#and then feeling will's hand dissolve in hers. and not knowing where he went or how to help him

[givehimthemedicine]

never forget El isn't just touchy feely as a random personality trait, she's spent most of her developmentally critical years horribly starved of touch and warmth and love :)

and every moment of physical comfort she receives is precious to her as an antidote to some specific moment in her past when she suffered the lack of it :) and you can also see the shadow of her traumas in the ways she thinks to give physical comfort :)

and also don't forget that her trauma didn't end with the lab :) when we first meet her her traumas are drawn from lab days but by later seasons it's clear some of the traumas guiding her behavior are just... the show :) such as the crushing pressure of everyone counting on her to find Will :)

and if I spend more than 2 seconds thinking about what any simple little moment of closeness/physical affection/comfort must mean to El I will start sobbing and never stop :)

[scarlet-star-witch]

You were my man and I your girl

Aemond Taragryen x female reader

Summary: Facing the news of her impending betrothal, she makes a final, desperate act of rebellion. Though when she discovers she is to marry her dear uncle, the man she has longed for since childhood, she realizes she may have ruined their marriage before it even began

Word count: 17.5 K (I need help)

Warnings: angst, smut, fluff, Aegon being kind of a good brother, men having the audacity, jealous Aemond, reader is Rhaenyra's daughter, but no mention of who her father is

~~

“What?”

Rhaenerya winced and bowed her head at the sharp tone. She knew her daughter would not take the news lightly, but she had hoped she could understand the delicate nature of their situation. 

“Darling, I know I told you-”

“Are you alright with this?” She interrupted, turning to Daemon who was sitting stone-faced, hating the news as much as she was. 

He opened his mouth, most likely to spew insults about her soon to be betrothed, but Rhaenrya’s sharp glare quickly quieted him and she turned desperately to her raging daughter. 

“My love, please understand-”

“What is there to understand?” Her daughter continued, her eyes wide, searing with betrayal. “You told me I would have a choice, that I would never be used as some political pawn for power.”

“We are on the verge of a succession war. We all have a duty to perform and as my heir you have your own to fulfill.”

The mention of the fight for succession, the hint as to who exactly she would be marrying did not register in her mind or it would have calmed the burning fire inside her. All she could make out in the maelstrom in her mind was that she was to be married and it was not her choice. 

She remembered, just moons ago, when Jason Lannister had offered his hand. The thought of being forced into the bed of a man decades older than her, power hungry and desperate to take the titles she could give him, made her feel sick to her stomach. 

“I can’t believe you would do this to me.” She told her mother, her voice sounding weaker, knowing she was facing a losing battle. 

Rhaenerya’s face fell, her daughter’s words cutting her deeply, causing an aching pain to bloom in her chest. 

“Please, if you would just listen, you might change-”

“I might change my mind and accept the fact that I’m to be sold like a mare?” She argued and quickly turned on her heel, storming out of the room. 

Rhaenerya pinched the bridge of her nose as she exhaled loudly, her frustration clear. Daemon tapped his fingers against his thigh, his gaze remaining on the empty doorway.

“That went as well as I expected.” He spoke dryly, his expression softening slightly when he saw the tiredness in his wife’s eyes. “She’ll get over it. She’ll eventually stop arguing long enough for you to explain.”

“She’s always been stubborn, but she has never raged like this before. She’s been spending too much time with you.” 

Daemon scoffed, though he couldn’t exactly deny the claim. 

“If she had only let me finish, she would have been happy with the news. She used to be so close to Aemond, I know she’s always cared for him. She barely spoke to me when we left King’s Landing, she was so mad that I had separated them.”

“I still say she can do better than that one-eyed cunt.” 

“Daemon.” Rhaenerya hissed, fighting the urge to smack him upside the head. “It is already done. The King has accepted the betrothal and their union will finally mend the divide between our families.”

~~

Her breathing was labored as she raced through the halls, unsure of where she was heading. Outside, she heard Vermithor’s loud roar, her dragon sensing his bonded rider’s discomfort and anger. She had a fleeting thought of racing to her beloved dragon and flying across the sea, hiding away from her duties for the rest of her days.

The thought was quick to dissolve. She knew Daemon would catch her before she could get Vermithor off the grounds of Dragonstone. 

So that left her to stew in her anger at being forced to marry a man she didn’t love and probably would never love and her hurt that her mother had broken the promise she had told her years ago as a child, that she would never be used a political pawn, that her hand in marriage would never be forced.

She briefly thought of a young boy with silver hair and quickly pushed the thought away when the ache of longing overtook her. 

The thought of the old, greedy, disrespectful lord she was soon to marry made her want to throw up. This was never what she pictured for herself. 

Defeated, she trudged back to her room, her head down, a picture of broken girlhood too many women in this realm knew all too well. 

“Princess, are you alright?” 

She perked up, her eyes meeting the caring gaze of her guard, Ser Darick, standing vigil at her door. 

A twisted idea unfurled inside her, a half-hearted plan of rebellion sparked by the flames of anger that burned brightly. 

She smiled, the gesture bringing one to his own lips. She had always found him handsome, many late nights had been spent with Baela and Rhaena giggling amongst each other about his broad shoulders and silken hair. 

She had no deeper desires for him, that place in her heart was firmly held by the sweet boy she left behind years ago, but it didn’t stop her from noticing the way her guard looked at her. She knew he desired her and the anger inside of her left her wanting for one thing she could control, one thing the man who would soon own her would never have. 

“I’m afraid I need your help with something in my chambers.” She spoke sweetly. Ser Darick nodded eagerly and he followed her inside. 

She closed the door behind them, causing him to turn back to look at her, his brows furrowed in confusion as he noticed the pristine state of her chambers. 

“Princess-?”

“I see how you look at me, Ser Darick.” She stated bluntly, vindicated from the way his eyes widened and averted from her gaze. “There’s not many things in my life that I get to choose and I’d like you to help me make one last choice before my freedom is taken from me.”

“I don’t understand.” 

She untied the laces of her dress, allowing it to fall from her shoulders, leaving her in a sheer slip. The man before her choked on his breath, the hunger in his eyes making her heart race, she knew he wanted her. She stepped towards him, her hands running over the expanse of his chest. 

“We shouldn’t. I swore an oath-”

“To protect me.” She finished his sentence. “I think this is exactly the protection I need.” She smiled cheekily. 

She pulled the shift over her head, leaving her body bare to him and she knew the second he gave in as his eyes took in every inch of her body. He dropped his hand from the hilt of the sword on his hip and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him as he crashed his lips to hers. 

She smiled in between kisses, feeling like she had her power back as she undid the pieces of armor from his body. 

She steadily ignored the guilt that crept through her mind, guilt for defying her mother and her duty. Moans fell from her lips as her guard took her hard and fast, his hunger for her clear in the way he held her tightly, in the way he refused to part his lips from any inch of her body. 

She squeezed her eyes shut, letting the image before her melt into one of the silver haired, one-eyed man she longed for. A shiver wracked her body, her toes curling at the images she conjured in her mind.

She bit her lip, stopping herself from letting the wrong name fall from her lips as she reached her peak. As the man above her shuddered to his end, her name bellowed in the quiet room, she thought of how Aemond would sound saying her name in rapture. 

As Ser Darick panted against her lips, his body collapsing against hers, she let herself indulge in the passionate touch of another and mourned for what she believed her future would hold. 

~~

Aemond was sitting stiffly in the same spot he had been for the last ten minutes, since his mother had told him the news. 

He couldn’t make sense of the emotions whirling within him. Relief was the first one he could pinpoint, but it quickly turned to guilt, soon to remorse, and then to the sham of disdain he had tried so hard to feel for her since the night he had lost his eye. 

Though no matter how hard he had tried to hate her like he hated the rest of her family, he found he could never conjure any for her. She never ridiculed him the way Aegon and her bastard brothers had, she was never a part of the cruel jokes and pranks they pulled on him. They were both young Targaryen’s without dragons and had found solace in their shared longing. Despite her own perceived shortcoming, she never wavered in the comfort she bestowed upon him. 

She spent many nights holding his hand, reassuring him he was worthy of a dragon when the teasing became too much for him to handle. She stuck up for him like no one else ever had. She even looked down upon her own brothers, scolding them for their immature teasing and jokes at his expense. 

 He remembered the worst night of his life, as his family splintered with the loss of his eye and the insults he had hurled at the Strong bastards.

But he always remembered how she had tearfully screamed at her own brother for what was done to him. He remembered when hours later, she snuck into his room, hugged him tightly and told him how proud she was that he had claimed Vhagar. 

He remembered how just a year later he had heard the news she had laid claim to the wild dragon, Vermithor. He wanted so badly to saddle his own dragon and make his way to her, to tell her how proud he was of her the same way she had praised him. 

But his mother had never had allowed it 

He could never hate her. She was never just another one of Rhaenyra’s bastard children and as much as he tried to tell himself to remain neutral, he couldn’t help but feel relieved at the news of his mother’s reluctant acceptance of their betrothal, one he had longed for but never had hope of ever coming to fruition. 

“Aemond?”

His mother’s voice broke him from his thoughts and he turned his attention towards her, attempting to remain stoic so he would not reveal his true feelings about the news. 

“Tell me if this is truly what you want. If not, I will tell Rhaenyra the betrothal is off.” 

Panic grew at the thought of his mother, or even his scheming grandfather, taking this away from him before he even got the chance to revel in it. He cleared his throat and sat up straighter in his chair.

“It’s alright, Mother. I will perform my duty.” 

Alicent smiled and reached over to place her hand over his. She adored her son and his strong sense of duty that was certainly lost to his older brother. Despite his attempts to remain stone-faced, Alicent knew her son too well, she knew what he truly longed for. 

She remembered how close he had been with Rhaenyra’s eldest child and she knew how devastated he had been when she had left for Dragonstone. Aemond had refused even meeting possible suitors for years and she could see his desire to shut her down as she mentioned the betrothal.

Until she had mentioned the Princess’ name.

It had shut him up quickly and he had stayed quiet, taking in the news with a contemplative expression that was all too familiar on her stoic boy’s face. 

But it was the slightest twitch of his lips upwards and the way he seemed to exhale in relief, every inch of his body losing its rigidity that told Alicent this was the right decision. Despite her ire for Rhaenerya and her children, the thought of an impending war was not something she wanted and it would clearly make her son happy, an emotion she did not often see him indulge in. 

She smiled and squeezed his hand. 

“They will arrive in a few day’s time. We will start preparations for the wedding as soon as possible.” 

With her parting words, Aemond was left to remain sitting, leaning on his elbow as his hand covered his mouth, trying to make sense of the emotions he was feeling that were so foreign to him. He wasn’t used to getting what he wanted. 

It didn’t seem real. 

~~

By the next morning, with an awkward passing smile to Ser Darick, she was headed towards the dining hall, her pace slow, as if she could delay greeting her family. She felt as though there was now an enormous target on her back, letting everyone she passed know what she had done the previous night. 

“Darling,”

She startled, placing a hand over her chest and plastering on a smile as she greeted her mother stiffly.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Mother. I just… didn’t sleep well last night.”

Rhaenyra frowned and linked her arm through her daughter’s. “I know last night was difficult, but I think you’ll come around to it.”

She tensed, picturing the cruel, power hungry lord she’d be chained to for the rest of her life.

“Mother-”

“If you had let me finish, you would have heard that I have betrothed you to Aemond.”

She abruptly stopped in her tracks, almost causing her mother to trip over her own feet. Rhaenyra looked back at her daughter, expecting to see pure joy cross her features but she was confused to see the anguish in her expression.

She stepped towards her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, her hand caressing down the length of her hair.

“Darling, what’s wrong? I thought you’d be happy with the news, I know how much you care for him.”

The lump in her throat grew so tight, she worried she’d choke to death before she could voice her mistake. The guilt that had already been lingering beneath her skin grew tenfold, threatening to knock her right off her feet.

“But… the Queen… she’d never agree.”

“She did.” Rhaenyra confirmed, still perplexed by her daughter’s reaction. “The King made his decree, something even she cannot dictate. With you as my heir, Aemond will be King Consort. I guess she realizes that was as good a consolation as she would get.”

It was real. She was to marry Aemond, the man she had longed for for years. She hadn’t even been reunited with him and she had already betrayed him. 

“Mother-” She paused, taking in a ragged breath, her hand holding tightly to her mother’s arm for stability. “I… I did something stupid.”

Rhaenrya’s face twisted into an expression of concern and she quickly ushered her daughter through the halls into the privacy of her chambers. She sat on her bed, her hand held tightly to her daughter’s as she tearfully explained what she had done the night before.

The first emotion to rise was a dangerous protective anger. 

Rhaenyra sprang to her feet, her hands clenched into fists and she grinded her teeth. 

“If that man did anything to pressure you-”

“Mother, stop. He didn’t do anything I didn’t ask him to do.” Her daughter assured her, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment at having to explain her indiscretion. 

Her words caused her mother to sigh and begin to pace. 

“Aemond can never- Alicent can never know about this.” 

“What?”

“This betrothal is tenuous, it took months for Alicent to give in, it took months for the decree to even make it to my father. The first sign of a crack, she’ll tear it apart, her and that lecherous father of hers.” Rhaenrya ranted.

Guilt burned through her veins, the thought that her stupid decision could ruin her family made her feel sick. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t… I wasn’t thinking. I just… the thought of being married to some old man-”

“Oh my love.” Rhaenyra took a seat next to her daughter, taking her hands in her, pressing a kiss to her shaking knuckles. “Do not blame yourself.”

“This was the path to peace and I ruined it.”

“You didn’t ruin anything.” Rhaenyra spoke sternly, as if speaking it into existence with her mere words. She gave her daughter a weak smile, her actions all too familiar to her.  “You know I was about your age when I had the same idea of a rebellion against duty.”

Her daughter looked at her curiously, but Rhaenyra’s heavy sigh was indicative that she didn’t want to spare too many details of that fateful night when Daemon had taken her to a brothel that led her to bring Ser Criston to her bed. 

She shouldn’t have been surprised that her dragon of a daughter had rebelled just as similarly as she had all those years ago.  

A half-hearted plan began to form, one based on tenuous lies, but it was all she had. 

“We’ll switch rotations, you’ll never have to see Ser Darick again. We’ll go to King’s Landing, you will marry Aemond and they will all be none the wiser about what happened last night.”

“Will you tell Daemon?” She asked fearfully.

Rhaenyra let out an amused huff of laughter. “Not unless you want your guard tortured and torn limb from limb.”

Sensing her daughter’s lingering anxiety, she placed a kiss on her forehead. 

“No one will ever know.”

A shuddering breath escaped her. She prayed to the Seven her mother’s words were true. 

~~

Aemond stood tensely in the courtyard with his family, his hands firmly planted behind his back, the picture of royal stoicism. He just hoped no one could see how his fingers fidgeted behind his back, his nerves getting the better of him.

It had been six long years since he had seen her, since that last visit she had paid him where she had mourned his injury with him and kissed his cheek, a moment that left him wondering if he would live with a blush on his cheeks for the rest of his life.

An elbow to his side forced him out of his daze and he turned to see Aegon’s smug smirk as he gestured with his head at the oncoming carriage. 

“Creaming your pants yet?”

Aemond sneered at his brother, his jaw clenching as he turned himself to face straight ahead, steadily ignoring the amused smirk sent his way at his expense. 

His heart began to race as the carriage door opened, anticipation heavy on his shoulders. With every face he saw that wasn’t hers his impatience began to rise, holding back a glare to her brothers who exited first. 

He didn’t pay attention as his mother and Rhaenyra greeted each other awkwardly. He didn’t spare his nephews a second look. All he saw was her. He perked up the moment his gaze found her, his lips parting unknowingly, no longer holding strongly to the passive facade he had forced all day.

She had grown into a beautiful woman in the past six years. He had pictured this moment for so long and none of his late night fantasies could ever compare to the woman before him. 

He cleared his throat, straightening his posture as she stepped towards him. For years he had tried so hard to push down the feelings of longing that arose at the thought of her. For so long he had forced himself to believe she was nothing more than an enemy, a bastard girl that deserved nothing. 

But as she stood in front of him now, grown and more beautiful than he could have ever conceived, he realized it was all a farce. Every hateful thought he had forced into his head about her was nothing more than a lie. 

“Prince Aemond.” She greeted with a small curtsey, the small smile curling on her lips capturing his eye effortlessly. 

After a few seconds, he suddenly realized he hadn’t spoken a word, a brief flash of panic racing through him at the embarrassment that he had been merely staring at her like a fool.

“Princess.” He responded slightly bashfully as he bowed his head. 

The air surrounding them was awkward, both with so many things to say that had been left unsaid for years, complicated feelings that went unresolved for so long. 

But they were to be married in a mere week's time. The family drama that cut through their childhood bond did not need to be addressed, they had no choice but to accept the inevitable. 

He would be her husband no matter if he came to terms with the delusion he had forced for years. He would be her husband no matter if he had unlearned everything his mother and grandsire had instilled in him for years. 

~~

A welcome feast had been thrown in their honor. The table of royals had been a sight of strain as the ailing King gave his remarks to the room, welcoming his dear eldest daughter back to King’s Landing, lamenting the union of their divided family through the marriage of his first granddaughter and his second son. 

The stifling tension among their family remained throughout the celebration. With the secret weighing heavily on her, she felt as though she couldn’t even spare a glance at her betrothed without choking on the intense guilt she couldn’t shake. 

As the heir of the heir and a coveted Targaryen Princess, her mother’s only daughter, she was practically forced to remain on the dancefloor all night, indulging in the many noble Lords and their sons that offered their hand. 

“Mind if I cut in?”

She almost audibly sighed in relief at the sound of her brother’s voice, taking the place of the obnoxious boy who had accosted her for three dances. Since the feast began, she’d been approached by more Lords than she could count. 

“Are you alright?” He asked quietly as he began to dance with her.

“I’m fine.”

“You say the word and I’ll take you back to Dragonstone.”

“Jace.” She scolded, giving him a pointed look. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just trying to look out for you, Sister.” He defended. “You’re about to marry the man that tormented us as children.”

She frowned, her eyes drifting to Aemond who sat at the head table, eyeing the dancing couples with disinterest. The sight of his eye patch was like a punch to the gut, the memory of what had happened that night was enough to bring tears to her eyes. 

“If I remember correctly, it was you, Lucerys and Aegon that tormented him as children.”

“He called us bastards.”

“And he lost an eye.” She reminded him tersely. “I’d say that more than evens the odds.”

Jace sighed heavily, the conversation weighing heavily on him. He wasn’t proud of his actions that night or how he had treated his uncle as children, but the guilt wasn’t enough to allow him to feel happy for this union. 

“He’s different now.” Her brother mumbled. “He seems… angry.”

“Can you blame him?” 

Jace sighed again to which she sent him a pointed look. It was as if it pained him to admit his guilt, to admit that their uncle wasn’t the villainous enemy he had built up in his head. He looked at his sister thoughtfully, worrying his lip between his teeth.

“Is this truly what you want?”

“What I want doesn't matter, Jace.”

“It does. Especially if you are to be married to a man that would make you miserable.” 

She remained quiet, contemplating his words with confliction. Misery was never a feeling that followed the thought of her uncle. She knew their marriage could be great, that they could foster a beautiful love, but only if he let it and only if he never discovered her betrayal. 

As the song ended and Jace moved from her side to spare a dance with an impatient Baela, she floundered for a moment, eyeing her brother and his betrothed for a moment, their delighted smiles, the clear fondness they held for each other stirring envy within her. 

She wondered if her own marriage would bear the same smiles. 

She looked around, dread settling inside her as her gaze passed over the many other noble sons that wanted their chance to dance with her. It was the last thing she wanted. 

With a heavy breath, she pushed her way through the throng of dancing couples and slunk out onto the balcony, hoping no one had noticed her swift exit and moved to follow. It had been years since she’d been in King’s Landing, it seemed the novelty of her family had not waned. 

It was as if everyone wanted a piece of her. She loathed it. 

Only a minute later, she heard footsteps approaching and she grit her teeth, her peace seeming to be taken from her as quickly as she had gained it. She turned her head and her eyes widened at the sight of Aemond stepping out onto the balcony. 

He startled slightly when he noticed her and smiled, a gesture that was weak and awkward, though it managed to bring an equally weak smile to her own lips.

“I didn’t mean to impose.” He began, sounding slightly stilted. 

“You aren’t.” She assured him. “I can leave if you wish to be alone.”

He eyed her for a long moment, as if surprised by her request, but he just shook his head and approached her slowly so he was standing at her side. 

“This is where I seem to find myself during these events, when I need to get away. I presume you are out here for the same reason.”

“Yes, I fear my feet have grown too tired to indulge in another dance.” She replied, hoping her words didn’t sound as dour to him as they did to her own ears.

Aemond seemed to grimace, the reminder of the many lords who had taken her hand for a dance stirring something within him he didn’t quite recognize. He didn’t care for it. 

“I probably shouldn’t have left, I just…”

“Needed a minute.” Aemond supplied as she trailed off. She nodded bashfully, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, suddenly hyper aware of her appearance as she realized this was the first time she had been alone with Aemond in years.

They were no longer childhood friends, they were betrothed. It was enough to drive her nerves to a boiling point where she could no longer meet his eye.

He stepped closer to her so he was leaning against the railing next to her, mirroring her position, an act that signaled ease.

“I had an interesting conversation with your brother.”

Her eyes widened. That was the last thing she had been expecting him to say. She was surprised Lucerys even listened to her request, that he had even attempted to approach the man he had scarred.

“I have a feeling that was your doing.”

She turned her head to meet his gaze and every fear she had that she had crossed the line faded in an instant as she saw the gratitude in his expression. 

“You have no obligation to forgive him.”

Aemond huffed out a laugh and bowed his head slightly. “Those were the exact words your brother said as well.”

She inwardly cursed her brother. He wasn’t supposed to say word for word what she had asked of him. 

“I just wished to solve the rift in our family. We can’t very well expect a happy marriage if we spend our time hating each other.”

“I never hated you.” Aemond responded quickly, his brows now furrowed as he moved in closer to her. “I may have.. complicated feelings for your brothers, but I… I never felt any of that towards you.”

She felt her breath hitch, her throat feeling tighter, as if she suddenly forgot to breathe with him so close to her. 

“Are you truly content with marrying a bastard?” 

Aemond flinched, her words so unexpected, he involuntarily took a step back, asif his instincts were telling him to run far from this conversation and never look back. He spoke her name softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You’ve whispered about our parentage our entire childhood. Am I to believe the sentiment now means nothing to you?” Her voice was cutting, but not with anger. She just sounded disappointed and somehow, Aemound found it so much worse.

“I never called you- it was never…” He stammered for a moment before sighing heavily, his teeth gritting as he looked out onto the horizon, desperately trying to find the words he needed to tell her she was never a part of the ire he held for her brothers. 

She watched him, a deep part of her feeling satisfaction to see him flounder as he was. She held much affection for Aemond, especially in their childhood, but his affliction for calling her brothers ‘Strong’ was always a source of hurt and caused many petty arguments between them before they had been separated.

“It was never about you.” He admitted quietly.

“They are my brothers, Aemond. I am not absolved from what you say about them.”

“But you are.” 

Her breath was stolen from her at the gravity of his words, at the sincerity she heard from him. She eyed him cautiously for a long moment, trying to gauge just what she felt for the man before her now, no longer the shy and sweet boy she had once known. 

She longed for him, but she wasn’t sure if the person she desperately desired even existed any more. 

But with how he looked at her, how hard he seemed to be trying to appease her, left her feeling defenseless against her own fears. 

“Why did you never write to me?” She asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, as though she regretted even posing the question. 

An expression crossed his face that she couldn’t recognize. He looked tortured, as if the mention of the part he played in their loss of friendship all those years ago brought him pain. The letters he received from her that were left unanswered had grated on him for years. 

Years ago, he had even written a letter to her to apologize for his silence, but his mother had caught him, tore the letter to shreds and warned him not to reach out to Rhaenyra’s bastard daughter, that he would only get hurt again if he dared to reconnect with them. 

“I never wished to ignore you.” He spoke softly. “It was just, after what had happened on Driftmark, my mother-”

“I understand.” She interrupted. The state of their family wasn’t the fault of themselves alone, their mothers had a complicated relationship they could barely comprehend. It was no fault of their own that they listened to the vitriol their mothers spoke in their years of hurt. 

“I never wanted to ignore you.” He repeated, as if he was desperate for her to believe him. 

The years of hurt that had cut her heart deeper and deeper with every unanswered letter she had sent slowly began to heal as she looked into his eye and saw the reverence with which he gazed at her. 

“I am willing to put the years behind me. If we are to be married, I don’t want there to be animosity between us.”

“There isn’t, at least on my part.” He assured her, looking to her hopefully, almost holding his breath for her next words.

“There is none on mine either.”

He nodded, the relief coursing through him feeling like the antidote to the years of guilt and sadness that surrounded his thoughts of her. His gaze met hers and the small smile, more genuine than the one she had greeted him with, caused his own to grow, a gesture that was no longer forced, but now one of hopeful excitement. 

The prospect of marriage no longer seemed so daunting.

~~

In the days leading up to the wedding, they didn’t see much of each other. 

She felt more lonely in the place she used to call home than she had expected. While she had her family, it was clear they were all on edge about the upcoming wedding and hadn’t exactly settled being in the Keep where the Hightower influence reigned supreme. 

She found herself taking Vermithor out daily to escape the tension among her family. 

The only peace she found was amongst the clouds, where the air was thinner, stealing the breath from her lungs. It was as if the reminder that there were things more dangerous than her own family was a comfort to her situation.

Suddenly, the earth shattering roar of a great beast sounded behind her, startling her. She turned quickly, her eyes widening as she saw the enormous figure of Vhagar taking to the skies, her gargantuan form heading towards her.

She watched the creature in awe, the great war dragon, centuries older than her, gliding through the skies like a beautiful relic. 

“It’s alright.” She soothed the dragon below her who grumbled at the unexpected presence of another. 

She kept her head turned, her eyes trailing the hulking figure that grew closer. A small smile curled on her lips as she spotted the silver hair of her betrothed atop his mighty dragon. 

As Vhagar approached, their eyes met, shared smiles passing between them. She gripped onto the reins in her hands and directed Vermithor forward, her large dragon diving towards the water below them. 

A trilled call from behind made her smile, knowing Vhagar was following suit. She looked over her shoulder, a warmth building within her as she saw Aemond guiding his dragon to follow her every move. 

The two of them didn’t share any words as they flew together in solidarity. She laughed as Vermithor let out a grumble of content. Her dragon suddenly titled, moving in closer to the dragon at his side, almost bumping the dragon beside them. 

She froze momentarily, gripping onto the reins tighter, preparing for an adverse reaction from the surly war dragon, but she could only watch in disbelief, her lips parting in awe as Vhagar crooned, a sound she had never heard from a dragon before, and bumped her head against Vermithor’s, a gesture that seemed almost affectionate.

She laughed, the warmth within her chest that had been stirring, now in full bloom. She turned to Aemond who watched the dragons with a small, amused smile. His head turned, their eyes meeting and as though a force greater than anything they had ever felt before, they couldn’t look away. 

As he looked at her, that lone blue eye encroached by a softness that was so familiar to her, she felt as though she was once again face to face with that boy she had loved all those years ago.

~~

Their wedding was a beautiful affair. 

No one would know it was a union between a fractured family. Though, it seemed as though their wedding was already stitching their broken family back together. Or it may have something to do with the amount of wine consumed. She noticed Helaena smiling happily as she danced with Jace. Aegon was drunkenly laughing with Luke who was smiling awkwardly, looking as if he wanted to be anywhere else as Rhaena laughed on in his playful torment. 

Daemon sat next to his brother King, his smile soft as they spoke together intently. Her mother sat with Queen Alicent, the two of them deep in conversation, their hands finding each other as they descended into bouts of laughter like they were nothing more than two young girls again.

The sight made her happy. She knew her mother missed her old friend dearly and it looked as though Alicent had missed their friendship just as deeply. 

“Are you ready?” 

She turned on her heel to find Aemond, her husband, standing before her anxiously, his face a mask of anxious anticipation as he held his hand out to her. 

She swallowed and nodded stiffly, taking his hand as nerves as heavy as lead built within her. It was time for the bedding. Every happy thought in her head was gone in an instant as she suddenly could focus on nothing but the secret she kept from him. 

As he guided her out of the hall, her eyes met her mother, her face now serious, giving her a slow, knowing nod, reminding her to stay silent, to perform her duty and act as an untouched maiden. 

They walked in silence, the tension between them growing. 

They had been in a daze practically the entire day, their smiles shy yet glowing as they spoke their vows in the Sept, as they shared their first kiss as husband and wife. 

Their true first kiss had been years ago when they were merely eight years old. She had kissed him after he had yet another unsuccessful bout in the dragon pit and had stolen a chaste kiss as she brushed the dirt from his cheeks. 

She had never seen him turn so red before. 

They were a long way from those innocent children they had been.

“Are you alright?” He asked, startling her out of her long lost thoughts. She looked at him and was surprisingly relieved to see he looked just as nervous as she was sure she looked. 

“I am.” She assured him with an awkward smile. “Are you?”

“Yes.” He answered quickly, too quickly to portray any calmness about their current predicament. 

Their hearts were racing as they stepped inside their new marital chambers. She immediately moved to the vanity, working on removing the many pins from her hair that had been pinching her all night.

She sighed dramatically as the pressure on her skull was relieved and the sound of an amused hum, an almost sounding laugh, caught her attention. She looked over her shoulder to see Aemond watching her thoughtfully. 

The sight of him, the small upturn of his lips, the desire in his eye, should have stirred her own, but all she could feel was all consuming nerves. 

Tonight she’d have to lie to him. 

“You look beautiful.” 

His words startled her, her eyes widening slightly, not having expected the compliment. She smiled bashfully, trucking a strand of hair behind her ear nervously as her gaze fell to the floor between them.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t told you that yet tonight. I haven’t told you since you’ve been back.” 

She was surprised by how forward he was, his words so sincere yet so different from the man she knew stood before her. 

It seemed she wasn’t the only one who longed for this marriage to be one of peace, to heal the wounds that had been so deeply ingrained in their family for so long. 

He approached her slowly, the look in his eye one she had never seen before. Desire. He reached out, his hand moving to her jaw, his touch light as he held her as if he were afraid she would flee. 

Her hands almost shook as she laid them across his strong chest, beginning to slowly undo the intricate buckles that covered him. 

He let her undo each one, the sound of his own heavy breath betraying his nerves. Once his chest laid bare before her did he finally pull her in close to him, his gaze locked on hers as he leaned in close before finally kissing her. 

He was soft, though as she responded to his kiss, he met her with fervor, portraying every ounce of pent up desire he’d unknowingly held for her for so long. He kissed her as if she were the very air he breathed. 

Her mind was a mess of thoughts, swirling with desire and agony as she desperately wished his lips had been the first she kissed so passionately, that his touch that tightened on her waist as he undid the laces on her gown, were the first hands to touch her so intimately. 

She couldn’t break herself from the thoughts as they moved to the bed. She couldn’t stop the heavy feeling of regret that tainted every one of his touches and fervent kisses. 

Her chest heaved, her guilt portraying as nerves for a perceived first bedding. Aemond ran his hands up the length of her thighs, his touch, which should have caused butterflies to fly rampant within her, only reminded her of the man who had touched her previously. 

He kissed her softly as he settled himself atop her. 

“I’m sorry… this- it might hurt you.”

The claw of guilt inside her turned into a fist that clenched tightly and she squeezed her eyes shut. 

“It’s alright.” She breathed out.

He kissed her again though the gesture, filled with so much affection, did little to soothe her as he intended to. 

She kept her eyes on the ceiling, the guilt keeping her from looking at her husband, from seeing the eagerness in his gaze as he took her for the first time.

He eased inside of her slowly, the sound of his breath stuttering catching her attention, almost enough to incite her own arousal if her mind wasn’t tainted with worry, of suddenly being found out and ruined before she even got to enjoy her marriage.

With hatred for herself burning hotly within her she mimicked a sound of discomfort as he settled inside her. 

“Are you alright?” He asked slightly breathlessly, his gaze looking down at her in concern. 

She nodded stiffly, her throat tight as she met his eye. She soon wondered if the guilt would stop her breathing before he could even finish. 

She tried her best to forget about the glaring guilt, she tried not to think about her night with Ser Darick, of the man who touched her before that shouldn’t have. She should’ve been in ecstasy to finally be laying with the man she had dreamed of for years, but as he moved inside her, she couldn’t help but wince, her lack of arousal keeping her from enjoying what she had desired for so long. 

It at least helped with her charade of the innocent maiden who feared the marriage bed. 

She watched her husband with barely contained emotion as his eye closed in pleasure, his lips parted with heavy breaths, the sound of his quiet moans had her wishing she could go back in time and never invite that Knight into her bed. 

As she watched him find his pleasure, as he stuttered out her name in delight, she knew she could never hurt him. She could never reveal her secret for she could never cause him pain. 

Above her, Aemond stiffened, his hips losing momentum, his grip on her hips tightening as he lost himself to his pleasure, a loud grunt falling from his lips as he reached his peak. 

She exhaled loudly, an empty feeling settling within her, the guilt and anger at herself melding into self-loathing despair. 

“I hurt you.” He breathed out, sounding pained as his hand cradled her cheek, his thumb wiping away the tear she hadn’t realized had fallen. 

“I’m ok.” She assured her, though with how stilted her voice sounded, she knew he didn’t believe her. 

He pulled out of her slowly and moved to lay next to her, his worried gaze never leaving hers. He moved his hand to rest at the back of her neck, gently urging her forward so his forehead could rest against hers. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered and she felt her eyes sting with more tears, his affection stirring the loathing that lashed her like a whip.

She shook her head and leaned into him, grasping onto his hand, holding tightly. 

“I wish we could have had this earlier.” She whispered, the only admittance she could allow herself. 

Aemond smiled softly and kissed her again, his touch gentle and careful, as if he worried about hurting her more. 

“So do I.” 

He held her as she struggled to sort out of her emotions, unaware of the torment within her. 

~~

By the next morning, she woke from a tumultuous sleep to find herself alone in bed. 

Her heart began to race as she propped herself up, dread coursing within her veins as she suddenly feared the worst. That, somehow in the night, Aemond had figured out the truth and left in a rage, leaving her behind before she could even enjoy what they could’ve had. 

“Good morning.”

The sound of his voice broke her out of her dark thoughts and she turned abruptly to see her new husband strolling in through the open balcony doors. He smiled lightly, looking slightly bashful to see her in such a vulnerable state, as if he hadn’t laid with her just hours before. 

“The maids brought breakfast.” 

She nodded and moved to peel the covers off her, hiding her wince at the flare of discomfort at the back of her thigh from where she had given herself a small cut after her husband had fallen asleep, using the small wound to stain the sheets with her blood that would not fall between her tainted legs. 

She stood from the bed, oblivious to how Aemond’s eye followed the length of her body with intrigue as she reached for her robe. They shared small smiles, the air of awkwardness lingering as they stepped out onto the balcony together. 

She immediately moved to pour herself a cup of tea, taking a much needed sip of the hot drink, praying it would soothe her frayed nerves. As Aemond took a seat next to her, she poured a second cup, adding a spoonful of honey before sliding it over to him. 

His gaze remained on her, as if in awe, as she took another sip. 

Feeling his eye on her, she turned, her brows raising in question at the beseeched expression on his face. 

“Is everything alright?” She asked slowly and he nodded, clearing his throat, leaning his elbow on his knee as his curled fist covered his lips, covering the smile that began to grow. 

“You remembered how I take my tea in the morning.” He spoke softly. 

She felt her stomach twist, this time for reasons completely different from the regret that had been staunchly drowning her since the night before. 

“Of course I did.” She said quietly with a shrug. “I wouldn’t forget anything about you.”

Her words, the knowledge that she had thought of him just as he had thought of her, had longed for him just as he had longed for her all those years they were separated, had a warmth spreading through him he had never felt before. 

Any trepidation he had about the marriage, any qualms he had about Rhaenyra taking her place on the throne, of his nephews back in King’s Landing, shattered in an instant. Everything else seemed so inconsequential to him now that he married her, now that he got to call her his wife. 

He reached out, slightly hesitantly, his heart racing as he placed his hand over hers. 

Their eyes met and it was as if an understanding passed between them, a final puzzle piece falling into place. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

She nodded quickly and smiled as he leaned in. Their lips met in a gentle, unhurried kiss that was filled with quiet affection, the meeting of a new husband and wife who had just come to an understanding, who had put away years of complicated feelings and settled to live as the pair of childhood companions that felt nothing but love for each other.

As he kissed her, she forced herself to move past the pain in the back of her thigh. Under his assured yet gentle touch, she forced her guilt and regret to the depths of her mind, desperate to find peace with him. 

~~

Over the next couple of months, their marriage flourished in ways neither one of them had expected. Their time spent together had seemed to heal every slight from their childhood, leaving the both of them feeling lighter, no longer shrouded in the guise of hatred. 

It would take time for Aemond to come around to her brothers, but he was finding it easier to let go of the fury that used to permeate every thought of them. They were by no means friends, but it was at least becoming easier to simply look at them, to exist among them. 

One morning, as Rhaenyra and Alicent took their morning tea together in the gardens, they caught sight of the newly married couple, arm in arm, barely an inch of space between them. 

“They are quite the match.” Alicent remarked with a smile as she looked at her son, the easy expression on his face a far cry from the scowl that had become all too familiar from her second son. 

“They are.” Rhaenyra agreed, relief flowing through her as she heard her daughter’s laugh from across the yard, watching as she leaned into her husband. 

She was more than thankful her dear daughter’s secret remained. 

“I am sorry I took so long to agree to their union.” Alicent admitted almost shyly. “To see my Aemond as he is now, so carefree, so… unburdened with her. I regret that my hesitation caused him to suffer for longer than he needed to.”

Rhaenyra frowned and reached out, taking her friend’s hand, curling her fingers around her own. 

“There is nothing to forgive. They are happy now… we are happy now. That is what matters.”

Alicent smiled, her eyes filled with emotion she hadn’t let herself reveal for so long. She squeezed Rhaenyra’s hand in silent comfort. 

“I have heard the maids gossiping. It sounds as though it will not be long until there is a new babe to care for.” 

Rhaenyra’s jaw dropped, a scandalized laugh escaping her as she looked at her friend, usually so demure, in disbelief. 

“Oh gods, do not let them know they are being gossiped about.” 

Alicent giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. 

“I would never. I do not think my son would ever return to court if that were the case.”

“They are late to every dinner. Surely they know it is not much of a secret what they are doing.” Rhaenyra commented, descending them both into laughter once more.

While the both of them laughed as though they were young girls again, the two of them couldn’t help but feel as though an enormous weight had been lifted from their shoulders, allowing them to breathe easier. 

The union between their children gave them what they needed, what they were desperately hoping for. The fact that their children were just as happy with each other was everything they needed to heal themselves. 

They soon lost sight of their children and, judging by the gossip they heard from the maids, they thought they preferred not knowing exactly what they were getting up to.  

It was for the better because the second Aemond had enough of the desire raging through his body, he had dragged his wife back to their chambers, only a mere hour after they had left it for the morning. 

He couldn’t get enough of her. 

He could barely get through his day without succumbing to his fire that burned hotly for her. Their walk in the garden, their duties for the rest of the day were long forgotten as he took her roughly atop her vanity, the wooden legs shaking beneath their passionate affair.

“Aemond!” She called out, her hands tightening at the back of his head where she had fistfulls of his hair. He groaned and quickened his pace, thrusting into her with the ferocity of an animal. 

Over their time together, she had been able to relax around him, thinking less and less of that horrible night with her guard that could have ruined everything. She allowed herself to fall into him, to let herself think of nothing but him, and she couldn’t have been more thankful.

He took her daily, their union fiercely passionate, the two of them quickly becoming insatiable for each other. 

“Fuck, darling, you are perfect.” Aemond growled, his hips never faltering in their harsh rhythm as he took her roughly. 

The way he took her now and had been for weeks was a far cry from the tepid and shy man she had seen on their wedding night. 

Cries fell from her lips as she desperately held him, her only tether in the haze of pleasure he now could so easily spiral her to. 

“Don’t stop.” She begged breathlessly, her head falling back to her shoulders, her eyes shut tightly as he fucked her so hard it was all she could do to hold and enjoy the ride. 

“Never, my love, I'll never stop.” He promised her, the desperation in his voice clear. He panted heavily as his hips moved with precision, eager to reach that spot he knew ruined her completely. 

He longed to see her unravel, he longed to hear her scream for him. It had quickly become the greatest thing he had ever been fortunate enough to witness and his greatest accomplishment. 

His grip on her hips tightened, his awed gaze fluttering over her form, eager to take in every inch of her. 

Her toes curled, a high pitched moan sounding as her body tensed, as she felt herself creeping up on the crest of blinding pleasure. 

“That’s it love, cum for me. Do it for me, I need it.” He rambled, his voice rough, causing shivers to race down her spine. 

Her nails dug into his shoulders and his answering grunt of pleasure undid her completely. She screamed his name, her hips jolting against his as she reached her peak. Aemond held her tightly, his arms moving around her back to hold him to her as his hips stuttered, becoming frantic in his final moments.

“Fuck… fuck!” He yelled as he felt her tighten around him.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, planting sloppy kisses along the delicate slope before he felt the curling of hazy pleasure unfurl within him. 

His eye squeezed shut, his jaw fell slack as a breathless moan escaped him as he came. Small cries left him, his hips continuing to move, losing their intensity as he spilled inside her. 

Their shared heavy breaths echoed throughout the room as neither one of them moved an inch. He continued to hold her tightly, wrapped around her completely. He shivered against her as she began to caress the length of his back, her soft hands moving up and down gently, causing him to sigh in delight. 

After a few long moments, as they caught their breath, he pulled away, nudging his nose against hers, smirking lightly at the sight of her so thoroughly spent. He kissed her assuredly, his tongue tangling with hers, his touch still firm, as if he were still desperate for her. 

They parted with the need for air, soft smiles shared between the two, almost bashful, as if they hadn’t just fucked debauchedly as though they were in a brothel. He pulled out of her and began to clean the mess between her thighs, delighting in the way she’d twitch against his touches, thoroughly overstimulated from his hands. 

“Do you remember when you put jam in my hair?” He asked suddenly, causing her to look down at him with a raised brow in disbelief. 

“You are thinking about that now?”

The childhood memory was not forgotten but she certainly hadn’t been thinking of it after he had ravished her.

“With how you were just pulling on it, I’m beginning to think you have some kind of vendetta against my hair.” He remarked with a smirk as he pulled his breeches back up and grabbed his discarded doublet that she’d torn off him. 

She laughed and shook her head, her eyes trailing his every move, pouting almost reflexively as he dressed himself, covering up that beautiful body from her eager gaze. 

“It is beautiful. Perhaps I am trying to sabotage you out of jealousy.” She smiled coyly.

“Jealousy?” He echoed in disbelief. “Darling, you are the most stunning woman in the realm, you have little to be jealous of.”

She felt her cheeks heat as she half-heartedly rolled her eyes. Since they had become more comfortable with each other, his compliments had been never ending, never failing to make her swoon each and every time. 

“So, same time tomorrow?” She joked, to which he snorted and looked over at her, nothing but adoration in his eye. 

He stepped toward her again, pulling the fallen sleeve of her dress back in place.

“Oh, darling, I will have you again tonight, surely.” He drawled, reveling in the way she seemed to shiver against him, already eagerly anticipating the night and agonizing over the hours between. 

He kissed her again and leaned his forehead against hers, as if he needed a moment longer with her before parting from her side. 

“I will find you once I am finished.” He assured her. 

As he left her to continue with his duties for the day he had steadily been ignoring, she finished cleaning herself up and fixing her disheveled hair. 

Her smile remained as she righted her dress, her legs trembling slightly as she made slow steps across their chambers. She just knew Baela would be dragging their salacious actions out of her the second she saw her. 

The giddy feeling within her crumbled into dust the moment she opened the door and came face to face with the one person she was content to never see again.

Her face fell, a look of horror overtaking her features.

“Ser Darick.” 

Her voice shook as she greeted him, which seemed to only deepen his smug grin. 

“Princess.” He bowed dutifully. “It has been too long.”

The sarcasm that laced his words cut her deeply and she averted her gaze, her heart racing wildly. The memories of that fateful night, the guilt that she had been able to push into the depths of her mind resurfaced with the force of a punch, almost enough to knock her off her feet.

She didn’t spare the man another look as she took off down the hall, her face crumbling into a deep frown as frustrated tears filled her eyes.

He would ruin everything.

~~

Her hand was clutched to her mother’s, her retelling of the day striking a need for her motherly touch. 

“I will take care of it.”

“How?”

“I will find a way.”

She remained silent, her face twisted with fear and disgust.

“What if he knows?”

“He doesn’t.”

“You cannot know that. Why would he be reassigned to me? Surely this is some plot to ruin me.” She rambled, her worried mind not allowing her to think straight. 

“The guards are spread thin here. We needed more help so guards from Dragonstone were requested here, but I… I had no idea he would be assigned to you.”

She sighed heavily, her mother’s words doing little to reassure her.

“I can’t keep lying to him.”

“Darling-”

“I love him and I can’t stand the fact that our marriage is built on a lie.”

Rhaenyra clenched her jaw, her teeth pulling her bottom lip tightly. Before she could even attempt to soothe her daughter the door opened and Daemon stepped into their shared chambers. 

Both women tensed, sitting up straighter in their seats at his unexpected arrival. 

His eyes flitted between both women curiously, immediately sensing the tension in the room.

“Is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine, my love.”

His wife’s words did little to soothe the awkward energy in the room.

“What are you two discussing?”

“Guard rotations.” 

Daemon looked at his step-daughter with narrowed eyes, the topic one he had not expected. His instincts were telling him something was wrong, that he was being lied to. 

“Is someone not to your liking?”

“Ser Darick has been assigned as her guard and we hoped we could find someone else for her.”

“Why?”

“No specific reason-” Rhaenyra attempted to diffuse the situation, but he had seen right through it, he knew something was amiss.

“I don’t understand. Ser Darick was your guard for years, he was loyally by your side, he watched over you, he cared for-”

Daemon’s sentence stopped abruptly, as if he had suddenly realized the double meaning in his words. His eyes narrowed, the angry fire burning within him so hotly she had to turn away from his gaze. He looked to his wife, as if needing confirmation to the thought burning in his brain.

When Rhaenyra sighed disappointedly, her gaze moving away from his, he felt as though he had the answer to the horrible explanation he had conjured.

Within a second he unsheathed his sword, causing his daughter to flinch and Rhaenyra to get to her feet. 

“Daemon-”

“Where is he?”

“You need to calm down-”

“I will strike every limb from his body and string him-”

“Please stop!” She yelled, stopping her father’s detailed description of the torture he would inflict on the man he believed to have committed an egregious crime.

“You cannot seriously be protecting the man that took advantage of you. He touched you, he raped you! He should be fed to our dragons!”

“He didn’t rape me!” 

Daemon remained quiet, taking in her words slowly. His face twisted, an expression of confusion soon morphing into dread and she shifted in her seat under his intense glare.

“You didn’t.” He spat. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“Daemon, please.”

“You let that guard into your bed?”

She leaned her elbows on her knees, her head falling into her hands as she breathed heavily, embarrassment washing over her like a tidal wave that threatened to drown her. She would surely welcome it. 

“It was a mistake.” Rhaenyra chimed in, trying to ease the fury in her husband. 

“Of course it was a fucking mistake.” Daemon bellowed. “How could you be so simple minded?”

She raised her head, staring plainly at the man before her. She’d heard about his tales before he had married her mother, the Prince of Flea Bottom, the many times he had been banished by the King and he had the audacity to shame her about who she bedded.

“Your hypocrisy is astounding.” 

“Don’t be cute.” Daemon scolded. He tightened his grip on his sword, his anger still burning. “I’m still going to kill him.”

“You are going to do no such thing. Rumors will spread if a guard mysteriously winds up murdered. We will solve this quietly and reassign him so he will never lay his eyes on you again and you will never tell a soul about what happened that night.” Rhaenyra countered, her eyes locked onto her daughter sternly.

She could only nod, the guilt she’d steadily buried in the face of her happiness, in the bliss she’d found with Aemond, now clawing its way forward, threatening to tear her apart piece by piece.

~~

“There you are.” Aemond greeted her with a smile, bending down to press a kiss to the top of her head. Their chambers had been empty when he returned from training and he knew the first place to look for her was Helaena’s chambers. 

Her heart skipped as she saw him, her mind racing, screaming at her to blurt out her secret, to spill everything that was weighing heavily on her, darkening her soul, but she found no words could escape her. 

She smiled stiffly, forcefully pushing past the overwhelming regret and sadness that threatened to choke her. 

“Are you finished with your training?”

He nodded as he took a seat next to her, his soft smile directed to the children who played at his feet. 

“I am and I suddenly found myself in desperate need of my wife’s company.” 

“Well, I am sorry to disappoint you, but we were just about to leave.”

“Leave? Where are you going?”

“We are going to the markets in Flea Bottom.” Helaena answered happily, oblivious to the way her brother’s expression darkened at her words. 

Aemond looked to her desperately, as if pleading with her to tell him his sister was mistaken, that she wasn’t going to roam the dangerous streets of Flea Bottom. 

She sighed, taking his hand in hers.

“She wishes to find gifts for the twins’ name day.” She spoke softly so the children would not hear. 

“Send servants.”

“She wants to pick them out herself.”

Aemond exhaled loudly and pinched the bridge of his nose. He startled when his wife stood from the couch and he reached out for her hand, but she was already walking away. 

“Come with us brother.” Helaena offered, oblivious to the torment unfurling in her protective sibling. “We will be taking guards, but we will be more protected with you at our side.” 

She smiled widely and linked her arm through Helaena’s, looking to her faithful husband.

“Well, you heard her.”

Aemond let out a long sigh, the thought of his beloved and his dear sister venturing down the dangerous streets of King’s Landing loathsome, but with one look at his wife’s stare, he was powerless to refuse her wishes. 

“Just for a short visit.”

The wide smile she gave in return was all he needed to stop himself from refusing the offer. 

He followed behind the two women, their group of guards walking behind him faithfully as they made their way into the city. 

Aemond kept his eyes fleeting between his sweet sister and his beloved wife as they perused each vendor they passed. He admired his wife as her face lit up at the sight of a beautiful trinket that had caught her eye. He admired the way she smiled at each vendor, politely asking them questions, dignifying their compliments about her beauty and kindness. 

She was truly a marvel, the most beautiful sight to behold. 

“Aemond, look, isn’t this beautiful?” Helaena called out to him, breaking him from his trance as she held up a butterfly figurine. “I think Jaehaera will find this absolutely divine, she’s always admiring the butterflies in the garden.”

“She will love it.” He assured her with a small smile, following her as the ever protective brother he was as they ventured to the next vendor, caught up with another bout of glasswork she had found. 

He felt as though he had only taken his eyes off his wife for a minute when the yelling started. A fight had broken out between two vendors and the crowd around them had responded to the sudden surge of violence with equal measure.

His arm immediately went around Helaena who cowered and covered her ears as the crowd yelled and became insufferably loud. He briefly made eye contact with a man in the crowd, the lowborn recognizing the pair of royals before him and, as most disparities of power result, decided to direct his anger towards them. 

Aemond guided Helaena into the capable hands of her guard as he unsheathed his sword menacingly, warning the crowd not to try their luck with the famed one-eyed dragon prince. 

The crowd soon became raucous, screaming, shouting and pushing at anyone they could get their hands onto. 

Aemond quickly spotted his sister being scurried away from the action, though his stomach dropped when he could not spot his wife. 

He yelled her name, the sound lost in the chaos of the riotous crowd. He pushed people out of the way carelessly, elbowing his way back to where he had last seen her. His heart dropped at the sight of her absence. He became more desperate, his voice sounding weak as he stood atop a vendor’s booth, trying to catch a glimpse of her.

The longer he did not see her, the more fear encased every inch of him.

~~

A muffled scream left her as a sturdy hand latched over her mouth, a strong arm wrapped around her waist as she was carried away from the action of the riots ensuing in the streets of King’s Landing. 

She hadn’t seen Helaena or Aemond. As soon as the fighting started she had been dragged away, seemingly against her will. She had thought it was a member of the King’s Guard but as the hand stayed steadily over her mouth and the painful arm carrying her through the streets of Flea Bottom refused to recede, she became more and more fearful of who had latched onto her.

The grip on her slackened and she quickly pushed her way out of the grip, her expression a mask of derision as she faced who had manhandled her so roughly. Her face fell, an icy feeling of dread spreading through her veins as she met the gaze of Ser Darick. 

He sneered and gripped her arm again, pulling her into his side. 

“Stop struggling, Princess, we don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.” He warned, though it sounded more like a threat as he pulled her along with him back to the Red Keep.

She remained still, allowing him to drag her forward, her face passive as they made their way through the halls of the Keep. She felt equal parts relief and dread as he forced her into her chambers. 

He slammed the door shut behind them, his face dark with anger, his hand still sturdily gripping her arm.

“You have brought me back, now leave.” She ordered harshly as she wrenched her arm out of his grip.

“Not until we talk.”

“We have nothing to talk about.” 

“You invited me into your bed, let me fuck you and then ignored me. I deserve to know why.” He argued angrily. Her face twisted with derision, at the reminder of that night she had acted so carelessly.

“I am truly sorry for how I treated you, it was wrong of me to take such liberties. But the night we had was simply a night of desperation. I am married now. I love my husband and you need to move on.” 

He scoffed, looking at her with nothing but derision.

“I don’t believe you.” 

“What?”

“That night. It didn’t mean nothing to you. It couldn’t have.” 

He stepped towards her, forcing her to take frantic steps backwards, but he was quicker. He gripped onto her shoulders, his touch strong and harsh. 

“Let go of me.” She hissed through gritted teeth, her heart racing, the beginnings of dread seeping through her, chilling the blood that ran through her veins. 

“I know you felt something that night. No one could fake that passion. I know you feel something for me. I know you have for years.” 

Her eyes widened, staring back at the man completely dumbfounded as she squirmed under his hands.

“You have gone mad.”

“I gave you pleasure that night, Princess. I made you cum under me. I made you moan for me.” He spoke earnestly, making her wince and shake her head, desperately trying to pry his hands off her.

“It meant nothing.”

“Of course it did!” 

“Get off!” She yelled as she pushed at his chest, causing him to stumble a few paces back. 

The door suddenly slammed open, her breathless and worried husband storming into their chambers. He seemed to deflate in relief when he saw her, every ounce of fear dissipating in a second, though when he noticed the guard in their chambers, his expression twisted into confusion.

“Are you hurt?” He asked worriedly, stepping towards her hurriedly, assuming she had been injured in the fight and that was the reason the guard was in the room with her alone. 

“No, I’m fine.” She assured him, her voice quivering. 

He grabbed her trembling hands in his, looking over her in concern briefly before his untrusting eye turned towards the guard who couldn’t take his eyes off her. 

The anger in his gaze did not go unnoticed by Aemond who stiffened, his hand reaching for the sword at his hip instinctively. 

The guard smiled sardonically to his wife, the sight setting the blood in his veins on fire. 

“Princess.” He bowed and turned on his heel, leaving the room. The fact that he did not address Aemond only angered him further. 

“Who was that?” Aemond questioned the second the door closed behind him. 

“He was my guard at Dragonstone.” She answered monotonously, her chest aching in fear as her waking nightmare unfurled before her.

“Did he hurt you?” Aemond’s anger flared as he looked at her questioningly, his gaze searching her frantically for any indication that her guard had stepped out of place. 

“No, he didn’t hurt me.” She spoke quietly, omitting mentioning the bruises she was sure would be blooming on her arm from his harsh grip.

He stared at her quizzically, knowing deep within him that something was wrong. The look on her face, one of muted horror, was striking and the fact that she couldn’t meet his eye had worry stirring within him so strongly his hand twitched towards his sword once again, ready to strike down the mysterious guard at her command. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, I-”

“Yes, you’ve said that, but I do not believe you.” He interrupted, fighting between his confusion and his worry as she flinched at his harsh tone. He wanted to reach out to her, but something held him back, something he didn’t quite understand. 

She wrapped her arms around herself as she turned away from him. He called her name slowly, his critical eye never leaving her. 

“Who is he?”

“He is no one.”

His heart raced and he suddenly felt sick to his stomach as a multitude of answers swirled through his mind, none of them bringing any kind of peace.

“Do you love him?” He asked abruptly, jumping to the worst conclusion he could have possibly conjured.

“No, of course not!” She yelled, perturbed by the mere question. 

“Then why does he look at you as if you have a history?”

“I swear to you, Aemond, he is nothing to me.”

“So nothing has happened between you two?”

She remained quiet, her mind racing with a million different answers to the question, most lies, but only one truth, the one that spoke the loudest.

Her silence rang loud in the room and Aemond’s face shifted instantly, first to shock, then disbelief, then betrayal, and finally to fury. 

“You… you and him…” He startled slowly, trying to find the words to explain the blinding anger that overtook him so greatly it soon became hard to breathe.

The images that his mind created, visions of her tangled in the sheets with that man, her soft touch on his body, her sweet moans he relished given to him. 

“Aemond-”

“You fucked him?”

“Please-”

“Answer me. Did you fuck him?”

Her breath caught in her throat, her pulse pounding in her ears. Her world was crashing down around her and there was nothing she could do to stop it. 

“Yes.” She breathed out weakly.

A bitter laugh left him, a sound filled with so much anger it made her wince, tears beginning to burn in her eyes. 

“Aemond, please, I can explain-” She began as she approached him, reaching out for his hand, but he yanked his arm away from her, staring back at her with such vitriol it was as if a dagger had been lodged in her chest.

“Explain what? That you have been lying to me this entire time? That I married a whore?” 

Her eyes widened, his words striking her harshly. She had seen him angry before, she had seen him vindictive before, but it had never been directed at her, he had never spoken to her with such hatred, as if he were eager to hurt her. 

“It was before our marriage. I have never even looked at another man since I knew you were to be my husband.”

He shook his head, his chest heaving, an ache settling deep within him. Jealousy tore through him roughly, all he could think of was her tangled passionately with another man, and it made him see red. 

She reached for him again and he shut her down with a vicious scowl. 

“Don’t touch me.” 

She breathed heavily, her own anger beginning to rise at his stubborn refusal to listen to her. She knew if he ever found out it would cause a rift, but she had thought after the time they had spent together, that what they shared would be too special to let a mistake from the past rupture the beautiful love they had carved for themselves.

“Are you serious?” She snapped, her patience wearing thin the longer he directed his fury towards her. 

She thought of Daemon’s reaction, of Aemond’s disgusted scowl, and it made her seethe. If she had been a man no one would be batting an eye and she wanted to scream at how entirely unfair life was simply because of what lay between her legs.

“I had one night and I am penalized but you can do whatever you want with your body and I am just supposed to accept it. As if you haven’t followed Aegon to the brothels.”

“I am not my brother!” He yelled fiercely, his overt anger making her flinch. 

She stayed quiet, her anger receding as quick as it had come, leaving her with nothing but guilt. She knew she had crossed a line. 

Anybody could see how different the Targaryen brothers were, how much more accustomed to duty and honor Aemond was, how he refused to defile himself and shame his family as Aegon continued to do. 

It was deadly silent between them, neither one of them with anything productive or relatively polite to say to the other. 

With a clenched jaw, Aemond stormed out of the room without sparing her a look. 

His breath left him in uneven pants as he stormed down the hall, unaware of where he was headed. 

Images of her, his sweet wife, his beloved, wrapped up in another man’s arms replayed in his head torturously. He felt his eye sting with emotion he desperately attempted to hold at bay. 

He loved his wife, but this was agony. 

He loved her, but she had lied to him. 

He didn’t know what to make sense of the situation. He didn’t even know what to make sense of what he was feeling. 

He was at a loss as to what his marriage held. 

The only thing he could make out in the whirlwind of thoughts was pain. 

~~

He avoided her for the rest of the day and the next, choosing to sleep in his old chambers instead of returning to her. 

He couldn’t bear to face her, not after what he had yelled at her so callously, not after he had called her a whore, not after he had spent hours picturing her with that guard. 

It was agonizing to think of. 

He avoided dinner, giving flimsy excuses to the maids that dared to approach him. 

He sat out on the balcony of his old chambers, gazing out sightlessly into the night before him. The sound of his chamber doors opening had him rolling his eye, looking over his shoulder at the intruder with a scowl.

Aegon gave him an annoyed look. 

“You know you have mother worried sick? She sent me to find you, you twat.”

Aemond remained quiet as he turned to look back out onto the horizon. 

“What are you doing out here?” Aegon asked as he took a seat at his side, causing him to sigh loudly, not bothering to hide his disdain for his presence. “I figured you would be busy fucking your wife. You seem to do little else lately.”

Aemond’s jaw clenched as he steadily refused to meet his brother’s eyes.

“What? Has your paradise been ruined already?” Aegon joked, though when he received no reaction from Aemond, not even anger, he knew something was truly wrong. “What happened?” He asked, sounding more sincere than even he expected.

Aemond remained quiet for a long moment, dreading to say the words aloud, as if it made them more real than they already were. 

“She had a dalliance with a guard.”

“She has been unfaithful?”

“It was before she came back to King’s Landing, before the wedding.” He mumbled.

Aegon was quiet for a few seconds as he took in his brother’s words and eventually shrugged nonchalantly. 

“So?” 

Aemond glared coldly at his brother, the flippant response sparking his fury once more. 

“Finding out your wife let another man into her bed isn’t exactly comforting news.”

“It happened before she was your wife and, judging by how infatuated she seems with you, I’m willing to bet it happened before she knew you were the one she was to marry.” 

Aemond sighed loudly, no matter the circumstances, no matter whatever explanation he could think of, it did nothing to quell the green eyed beast that took over him. He had grown to deeply love his wife, the girl he had latched onto in childhood, the only one who seemed to root for him. 

The thought of her in the clutches of lust with anyone that wasn’t him was enough to incite his anger. 

He had never had a passionate, loving embrace. He certainly didn’t count what he endured on his thirteenth nameday, the moment that brought him nothing but shame. To think that she could so easily bring someone into her bed, have someone touch her lovingly, bring her pleasure, just as he could to her, stirred a fury in him he could barely comprehend.

“So, she betrayed you, what happens next?” Aegon asked, a smarmy smirk growing on his lips, striking Aemond’s anger before he could even speak of the depravities that mingled in his mind. “How about I take you down to the Silk Street and you can get back at her.”

In the blink of an eye, Aemond was on his feet, his face drawn tightly with fury, his angry glare locked onto his brother who laughed raucously at his reaction.

“Easy!” He yelled, shoving his brother’s hands off of him that gripped his shirt, ready to throttle him. “Gods, you have no sense of humor.”

“You know you don’t have to be here.” Aemond growled, sending his brother a final fierce scowl that silently threatened him of saying anything untoward about his marriage, before settling himself back in his seat. 

Aegon watched his brother carefully, noting the agony within him and he sighed.

“Look, you clearly care about her. She is your wife and you two have been able to build a bond which is more than many can say.”

Aemond looked at him, surprised by his honest words, surprised that he wasn’t slurring as he spoke. 

“Are you willing to give that up for a mistake she made before you loved each other?”

He looked taken aback at the question. The mere thought of letting her go was unfathomable. The thought was so horrible it turned his stomach more than his jealousy ever could. 

“I cannot stop picturing her with him.” He admitted quietly, almost shamefully. 

Aegon sighed, while he didn’t have anyone he loved as Aemond loved his wife, he had to admit, it didn't sound easy to picture the woman you loved in the arms of another man.

“So, let’s say you give up, what then? She marries someone else and warms their bed instead?” 

Aemond grit his teeth and sent a wicked glare to his brother who held his hands up in surrender. 

“Just think about it, brother. Get over it or let her go.” Aegon stated bluntly before parting from his side, leaving him to bury his head in his hands, a long slow breath falling past his lips. 

He didn’t want to let her go, he didn’t want to end what they had, he didn’t want to lose her. 

He breathed deeply again, forcing the green-eyed monster within him to retreat, to let him think clearly for once. 

He pictured her face, her teary eyes as she stared at him in disbelief as he threw horrible insults her way. He winced, his eye squeezing shut, as if the memory itself hurt him physically. 

He had to make this right. 

~~

He stepped into their shared chambers, his body rigid with nervous anticipation. He startled slightly as the sight of her was suddenly blocked, Baela having immediately got to her feet at the sight of him, standing in front of her half-sister protectively. 

“What do you think you’re doing here?” 

Aemond rolled his eye, sending a glare to the stubborn woman. 

“These are my chambers.” 

“Are they now? They haven’t seemed to be yours the past few days.” Baela responded sarcastically, forcing him to hold back a wince at the reminder of how he’d left his wife alone and worried for days on end in his fit of anger and jealousy.

He looked past Baela to find her looking back at him worriedly, wondering if this was the moment he left for good. The sight pained him deeply and he sighed heavily.

“I came here to talk.” He spoke softly, looking past her human shield, trying to appeal to his kind wife. 

“I think you’ve said plenty.” 

“Baela, it’s ok.” She said softly, hoping to stop her half-sister before she ended up in a physical fight with her husband. With how angry Baela had been on her behalf she knew it was certainly a possibility. 

Baela looked back at her questioningly, to which she nodded, silently assuring her she would be ok. 

With a sour expression, Baela left her side, her glare darkening as she passed the one eyed prince.

“If I see any more tears fall from her eyes, not even Vhagar will save you from me.” She threatened before stepping out of their chambers. 

Aemond let out a long breath. The sight of his wife upset cut him deeply, he knew he would let Baela inflict whatever pain she wanted on him if he hurt her any more. 

He looked at her, subtly wincing as he noticed she was looking away, refusing to meet his gaze. He moved forward slowly, never taking his eye off her as he approached. He sat on the opposite couch, making sure to leave space between them.

He didn’t think she’d be comfortable with anything else and he didn’t think he deserved to be so close to her, not after what he had said to her just days ago. 

“I’m sorry for what I said. I was angry and I took it out on you. You didn’t deserve my words.” He started quietly. 

She remained quiet, her gaze yet to meet his. The longer she didn’t look at him, the quicker his heart raced.

“I want to understand. I know you have no feelings for this man, but… it may kill me, but I want to know what happened between you two.”

“Why would that change things?” She asked stiffly.

“What?”

“You know I have no love for this man, you know I only care for you. So what more do you need to know?”

Aemond swallowed against the lump that grew in his throat. Aegon’s words came back to him, that her dalliance could have happened before she even knew they were to be married. 

“I need to know that I wasn’t the cause of this.”

She turned to him fully, her brows furrowed as she looked at him in bewilderment. She was sure a piece of her heart had shattered. He thought she had chosen to jump into bed with a guard because the news of her marriage to him was so horrible she was desperate to seek comfort. 

She let out a shaking breath and smoothed down the skirt of her dress. 

“Do you remember Lady Eleanor?”

Aemond looked confused for a moment at the sudden turn in conversation, but took a moment to think deeply before nodding. 

“She was your friend when we were children.” He answered softly. “I remember I could scarcely find any time with you without her presence.”

She smiled at the onslaught of memories that rushed through her mind, all hazed in the happiness of childhood innocence, though she was quick to be reminded of the grief that rose at the mere thought of her old friend. 

“She was married off to a Tully Lord. The man was older than her father. His past three wives all died mysteriously, no one dared to question why.” She explained stiffly. “I could tell from her letters that she wasn’t happy.”

Aemond watched her, frowning slightly at the dull tone of her voice, of the tortured look in her eyes, as if she was recounting something too painful to ever speak of again. He sat up straighter, longing to reach out to her, but he held back, suddenly reminding himself of the rift between them. 

“She birthed him a daughter, just as his previous wives had. The next day they found her body by the river.” She spoke quietly, her voice growing hoarse with emotion. “They could barely recognize her, she was black and blue, every bone broken by his hands.”

Aemond shifted in his seat, an unsettled feeling growing within him. He remembered the annoying little girl who followed his niece around and now felt nothing but horror at the memory of her. 

“Her husband faced no punishment. No one dared to question why yet another young girl was dead. I don’t even know what happened to the babe, if she-” She stopped abruptly, unable to finish the thought. 

Her vision blurred with tears which only began to steadily slip down her cheeks as she felt his hand take hers, their fingers intertwining. 

“His name was in consideration for my hand in marriage.” She admitted, finally bringing her gaze to reach her husband’s, immediately noticing the dread that shrouded him.

Despite the fact that they were married and had been for months, the mere prospect of her being forced into marriage with a man so barbaric left him feeling sick. 

She let out a shaking breath, pulling her hand from his as she wiped her tears furiously, forcing her expression into a mask of indifference, refusing to show him her weakness. 

“I’m sure that changes nothing for you, but I figured you should know.” She spoke hoarsely. “My night with Ser Darick meant nothing. I had no idea you were my betrothed. I thought I’d have one more night for myself before I was forced to be a silent, battered wife who would wind up dead in a matter of months.”

Aemond exhaled shakily, his gaze watching her curiously. Her sadness cut him deeply and while he could never understand the fear she felt, the fear almost every woman in the realm faced at the prospect of marriage, he couldn’t help but ache for her, for what she feared. 

The thought of her so scared, resigning herself to be abused, forced into a marriage with a man that would treat her horribly, had his hands clenching into fists, forcing back the desire to draw blood from men that weren’t even present.

“I’m sorry.” She choked out, her teary eyes finally meeting his, causing the lump in his throat to swell.

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“No, I do. I betrayed you. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, I acted as nothing more than a lowly street whore.” 

Aemond clenched his jaw, a flash of pain striking him deeply. His previous words he had thrown at her in anger caught up to him, hurting him as if they had been directed at himself. The guilt that overcame him was overpowering, enough to knock him off kilter, enough to haunt him for the rest of his life.

“I didn’t mean it.” He told her, his voice weak, portraying his pain.

“You said it.” 

His chest ached yet again at the sadness in her voice, her teary eyed gaze hurting him like a sword to the heart. 

“I was angry and I didn’t mean a word of what I said. I let my jealousy rule me.” He explained to her, reaching out to take her hand in his again. “But you mean more to me than my anger, you mean more to me than a single mistake.”

Her eyes narrowed, derision crossing her features, as if she didn’t believe him, as if his forgiveness was too good to be true. As she shook her head, he felt his heart crack yet again. 

“You’ve forced yourself to feel nothing but derision for me for years, I’m sure you can do it again.” She spoke tersely, her eyes betraying her hurt as they brimmed with tears. “I’ll tell my mother we wish for an annulment.”

“Stop.” He demanded angrily, looking at her with barely contained hurt.

“I’m sure your mother will be thrilled.”

“Love, please-”

“You can be married to a pure maiden within the next moon.”

“Stop!” He yelled, finally cutting off her frantic rambles. She looked at him with wide, tearful eyes, the sight causing his chest to hurt in ways he couldn’t even fathom. 

He breathed heavily for a moment, allowing his anger to fade. 

“I won’t let you end this. I care about you too much to let you go.” 

Her heart jumped at his words, her emotions beginning to stir once again. She let out a trembling breath, a glaringly bitter thought in her head she couldn’t move past from.

“Please, do not hate me for asking…” She started quietly, swallowing thickly as she looked to him hesitantly “Do you forgive me because you wish for power? Because you will one day be consort, because your heir will sit the throne?”

Aemond tensed, his gaze full of bewilderment. He had to admit, maybe in the beginning, the prospect of being consort enticed him, but now, it wasn’t even a thought in his head.

It hadn’t been since the moment she stepped out of that carriage and their eyes met for the first time in years. 

“I forgive you because I love you.” Aemond answered, as if it was the most simple explanation he could have given. 

Her breath caught in her throat, completely taken aback by his admission, one he gave freely, the genuine look in his eye making her crumble within. 

“You love me?” She choked out and he smiled sadly, the sight of her reluctance to believe it causing the ache in his chest to throb once more. He moved to sit closer to her, taking her hand in his.

“I have loved you for a long time. Much longer than I would like to admit.” He spoke with a soft laugh. “The things you did for me in our childhood…” He paused, taking in a deep breath. “Sometimes it felt like you were the only one who cared.”

She frowned, her hand holding his tightly, her heart aching to hear him so vulnerable.

“I could never turn my back on you. I could never let you walk away from our marriage, not for anything.” 

He was more than surprised when her lips descended on his with a fierce kiss, one that was filled with hunger, longing, and relief. He immediately wrapped his arms around her, responding to her kiss with equal fervor, moaning against her as her hands winded through his hair, the gesture so intimate, so familiar to their last months together. 

They pulled away, breathing heavily. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” She whispered, sounding pained, as if she would have to repent for his forgiveness for the rest of her life. 

He shook his head and held her tighter. He leaned his forehead against hers, swallowing thickly against the small ounce of doubt that creeped within him.

“He truly means nothing to you?”

She seemed pained by his question, her expression twisting as she placed her hand against his cheek as she looked at him with reverence. 

“He is nothing to me. I have not had a single thought of him since I’ve loved you.” 

He perked up, his wide eye searching hers, as if looking for any sign of dishonesty. But he found none. 

He wouldn’t, for she loved him just as he loved her. 

He crashed his lips to hers, his hands holding her tightly as he pulled her onto his lap, eager to place his touch upon her and equally as eager for her greedy hands to bestow their pleasure upon him. 

He preened under her gentle caresses, her hardened tugs at his hair, her eager hips that grinded against his. He longed for everything she was willing to give him. 

He could feel the jealousy that had blinded him, that green-eyed monster that threatened to ruin it all, fade to nothing while he was in her arms. 

He would not let a single mistake tear apart what they had, what had been growing since their childhood. 

He loved her and she loved him. 

It was all he needed.

~~

They mended back together with ease. With Ser Darick transferred, no longer a glaring reminder of her indiscretion, they were able to put the incident past them. 

Her brothers questioned what had happened, why there seemed to be a rift in her marriage then, as quickly as it had come, disappeared as she and her husband soon proved themselves as a united front, more infatuated with each other than ever. 

She didn’t give them any answers. She only assured them she was happy, that Aemond treated her well and that their marriage was a success. 

They were back to the blissful, wonderstruck and obsessed couple they had been before her secret had been revealed. 

Until the dinner for the King’s nameday. 

Her arm was locked with her husband’s as they stepped into the dining hall, their smiles mirroring each other as they spoke quietly. 

Aemond suddenly stopped in his tracks, his body becoming stiff as stone. She looked up at him, her smile falling at the sight of the murderous rage in his eye. 

She followed his gaze and paled instantly, her stomach twisting with fear as she found Ser Darick’s smirking face staring back at her. She swallowed against the lump that grew in her throat and held tighter to Aemond’s arm. 

“Let’s sit.” She spoke quietly, having to basically drag him along with her to take their seats at the table. 

Aemond’s glare remained on the man as he took his seat, his eye cold and unflinching. His wife had told him about that day the guard confronted her, explaining his strange possessiveness, the harsh way he held her. 

He wanted to kill the guard the second he saw the bruises on her arms, but she held onto him tightly, begging him not to leave her alone, begging him to drop the matter completely. 

She so desperately wanted to forget the entire thing and she knew if Aemond killed him, it would invite questions she dreaded to answer. 

The fury he felt at the sight of her bruises, at how scared she had been because of that guard, hadn’t left him. He had kissed every mark on her body, though it did little to soothe the storm inside of him, the desire to draw blood from the man that dared to hurt her. 

His fingers tapped erratically atop the table, his deadly scowl never wavering from the man who smugly smirked back at him, inciting his rage. 

Her hand covered his, startling him out of his haze of anger. He looked over at her and she gave him a weak smile, her eyes pleading with him to not act on his anger. There was a look of regret in her gaze, as her guilt returned tenfold, as if she were the one angering him. 

The sight tore his anger away in an instant and he intertwined their fingers, squeezing her hand comfortingly, silently assuring her, promising her he wasn’t upset with her, that her guilt was for naught. 

“I love you.” She mouthed to him, wanting to remind him in the face of her dreaded mistake and he smiled, mouthing the words back to her. 

The days they had spent together over the past weeks were enough to heal him of the fierce jealousy that had wracked him at the news of her night with her guard. She had spent night after night worshiping him, bestowing pleasure upon him that left his mind spinning, proving to him over and over again that he was the only one she wanted, he was the only one she had eyes for, and he was the only one she would pleasure so intently. 

Their thoughts of that damned guard were gone swiftly as the King was carried into the room, the sight of his decaying and weak body stealing their attention completely. 

King Viserys smiled, a sad yet relieved looking gesture as he looked at the table full of his family, smiling faces around him, easy conversation flowing, no sight of derision or hatred he had seen just months ago that had broken his heart. 

He raised his cup of wine with a shaking hand. 

“A toast to my family.” He began with a hoarse voice. “To my daughter, Rhaenyra, who will make a fine Queen. And to my dear grandchild.”

She perked up at the sound of her name, seemingly growing bashful under the King’s eye. 

“My beautiful darling and my dear son. May your union be fruitful and prosper with a love the realm has not yet seen.” Viserys toasted them with a warm smile. “My dear you will make a wonderful Queen after your mother. You will be a fair, peaceful ruler and a wonderful mother when the time comes.”

A bitter scoff echoed through the room, causing everyone to tense, their gazes searching over the faces of those present to find the culprit. 

Her throat went dry, embarrassment washing over her as she noticed Ser Darick rolling his eyes. Beside her, Aemond stiffened, the murderous glare glinting in his eye once again. He gripped the arms of the chair he sat on, mere seconds away from getting to his feet to beat the guard into oblivion. 

“Is there a problem, Ser?” The King questioned, looking at the guard incredulously. 

Ser Darick didn’t even seem intimidated to have the attention of the most powerful man in Westeros. He seemed to preen under all their gazes, straightening his shoulders as if he were of importance. 

“Apologies for my interruption, Your Grace.” The guard began, his sickly sweet smile never wavering as his eyes landed back on the culprit of his anger, the shaken girl who seemed to shrink under his harsh gaze. 

Aemond clenched his jaw, his hand twitching, desperate to reach for the dagger at his hip.

“You are kind to dole out praises to a whore.” 

Chaos erupted in a matter of seconds. Viserys’ face darkened and he struggled to get to his feet, his voice hoarse as he called for his guards to seize Ser Darick. 

Daemon sprung to his feet, kicking his chair out of the way, his expression dark and full of hatred as he approached the dead man walking, swiftly pulling the sword from his hip. 

But it was Aemond that acted quickest. 

He ignored his wife’s warning as he got to his feet with agile precision, his steps heavy as he marched his way toward the guard. He pulled the dagger from his belt, his teeth grit as he stared the man down with nothing but pure hatred. 

With a swift kick to Ser Darick's hand, Aemond disarmed him before he could pull his sword. Aemond gripped the front of his armor, dragging him forward harshly and swiftly plunged his dagger into the man’s neck without hesitation. 

Gasps and screams sounded behind him at the violent display, but he paid no mind to it. 

He watched with satisfaction as the man’s eyes went dull, the life leaving him slowly as he bled out, finally erasing the smug smile from his face. 

He eased his grip, letting him drop to the floor. 

He turned, coming face to face with Daemon, who had his sword drawn and at the ready. His uncle eyed the dead guard at their feet, with slight disdain for the mere fact that he hadn’t been the one to end his life, before slowly raising his gaze to him, staring at him for a long moment before nodding, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. 

Aemond nodded back, a dark and twisted respect blooming between them in that moment. 

He turned, ignoring the chaos that continued as his family watched on in horror and confusion, a mix of questions, admonishments him for his brashness, praises for his actions, but he heard none of it.

He stepped towards his trembling wife and quickly guided her into his arms, holding her tightly. 

Her eyes were wide, shocked by the violent display, though she couldn’t deny the immediate relief that coursed through her. 

“Thank you.” She whispered shakily.

Aemond pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his arms tightening around her, his silent promise to always protect her. 

~~

Hope you enjoy and sorry it's so long, I can't stop myself xx

[eggonthemoon]

Alien Stage Round 6 Character Analysis and Lyrics Breakdown

Okay so obviously spoilers, don't click Keep Reading if you haven't watched Round 6.

God fuck it's so fucking beautiful, where do I start?

I don't even know what is going on with those rapid shots of what I assume is some form of experiment that Till was involved in. I have no clue what the goal was or if it succeeded but somehow (for no real reason other than that one image of Luka standing behind Till ominously) I feel that Luka is involved with it.

Was this an attempt by Heperu's (Luka's guardian) rival to make a human capable of going up against Luka? Till being the youngest and Luka being the oldest also means that Till's guardian could have caught on to what Heperu was planning to do with Luka and then start experimenting on humans shortly after and it would still somewhat line up with the timeline.

But I'm getting into conspiracy territory, back to suffering!!

Allow me, to the tips of your fingers

Allow me, to the ends of your feet

Dissolve me in your gaze

I don't want to let you go

Oh this hurts. Seeing him look so defeated and exhausted, you can tell that even though to the public it's not certain whether Mizi died or not it doesn't matter to him. Because she's still gone away from his world, where he is unable to reach her. He wants to dissolve and die but he also doesn't want to let her go if there is even a sliver of hope that she lives.

Please, leave me scars

Please, hurt me so that

Not a single drop of me remains

Let me drown in you

The footage that plays to these lyrics really show how defeated he is. He refuses to sing, his passion for the art completely dead and buried. And (his guardian I assume) when someone shoves the fact that Mizi is gone in his face he lashes out and punches one of the aliens near him.

Until these falling stars

Are buried in the blur of time

However his heart isn't entirely in it and is quickly apprehended.

He is beyond exhausted and doesn't even protest or put up a fight while (the same alien he punched btw) another alien runs their fingers through his hair.

On your icy lips

Read my soul

Yes, my soul

He hopes that even if Mizi is dead that her spirit watches over him, seeing his soul and by extension, Him, for all that he is. Every thought and breath until he falls asleep is for Mizi.

But didn't we already know this is how he'd be like? Time for something juicier~

Even if your cold words

Carve scars beneath my eyes

May they linger on your tongue

You can break me apart

God this is heart shattering. Even if Till doesn't care for him, even if Till throws hurtful words his way, Ivan will still lie awake at night, cherishing what sliver of attention he is given. It doesn't matter if Till hates him, because as long as he is on Till's mind Ivan is happy. He is entirely in Till's hands, capable of being build up or torn down depending on how much (or how little) he is perceived by him.

Notice my pain

And mend me right now

To quiet my fears

I'll drown in you

He wants so deeply to be seen by Till, noticed. Till who doesn't let anything hold him down and always picks himself back up became a pillar of hope and strength to Ivan. It didn't matter how or in what context he gets to be seen, so he went out of his way to provoke him just to get Till to look at him even for a moment.

This was mentioned a while back on VIVINOS Patreon but the entire incident where Mizi and Till got attacked by that hound monster was orchestrated by him. I feel like there is two possible reasons for this depending on when in the timeline this takes place.

Either he wanted to test Till's resolve in hopes of being proven wrong about his courage (after all your hopes can't be dashed on the rocks, if you never had hopes to begin with) only for his obsession to end up growing even stronger than before.

Or he tried to let Till get roughed up enough that he'd be transferred (solitary confinement? emergency room?) somewhere else away from the others at Anakt, so they could escape together.

But we all know how that turned out.

Either way what Ivan wants isn't freedom, he's long since given up on that. There's no point in his freedom if the person that inspired him to yearn for it isn't by his side. He needs Till there, his very presence to reassure him that no matter what Till won't falter. But he failed to take account of the one thing that weakens Till's resolve.

Mizi.

Mizi is to Till what Till is to Ivan. And so without Mizi in his world Till crumbles. Since Till will only go where Mizi is and Mizi already gave away her heart to someone else, it's impossible for Ivan to be free while keeping Till in his world.

And so he follows him, resigning himself to a life without freedom.

Sick of these nights to come

To be engulfed in silence

But the distance between them is killing him, and each and every day they come closer to their inevitable doom.

It doesn't matter if they believe the lie the aliens told them, that if they die singing they will be blessed. Because what is the point in that? How can going somewhere far away from the people they love be a blessing?

In your gaze where I am seen

Consume me

Yes, me

His desires mirror Till's. He wants his soul to be seen by him, recognized for his undying love for him. He wants Till to see that he can give him all that Till yearns for in Mizi and more.

To this everlasting melody

Face to face we dance

And yet Till still refuses to look Ivan in the eyes.

Things get a little unclear but since they aren't shown singing here and there's no flashback to accompany the lyrics, we can assume that at this moment Till most likely gave up on singing.

With our story

Lost in forever's embrace

I'm not sure if Ivan intended this from the start or if it's a decision he made then and there but one thing is certain. If Till stops singing then that would mean he forfeits, he'll lose. Till has never once given up. Even when he went back for Mizi that night, he never intended to leave her in the first place. But now without her he crumbles.

And Ivan can't let that happen, not like this.

Moral grey area aside, this scene is so deeply moving to me

And I don't say that in a romantic context, absolutely not. This is something much deeper than just love. This is the culmination of everything they've been through, all those moments lead up to this.

Because this isn't a kiss.

This is Ivan throwing his life away for Till.

Till was going to loose, the only thing that could overturn that is if his opponent attacks him. The kiss was to distract Till and keep him from catching up to what Ivan was planning.

Just look at the contrast between their first and second kiss. As soon as the score board shows Till is in the lead, he gives him a gentle peck on the lips. The contrast is stark and full of meaning. This was the genuine kiss, hidden behind a smokescreen of aggressive bravado created from the previous one.

And it worked. Till was completely convinced that Ivan's intentions was to kill him, and he was fully intent on letting him.

I know a lot of people doubted his intentions. Because he didn't let go of Till's neck the minute he saw their scores, a lot of people assume that this was Ivan trying to drag Till down with him.

But the minute he coughed up blood what does he do?

He smiles.

and let's Till go.

He's only human. He might know logically that Till has won the match. But emotionally he refuses to let go until he is certain.

Until he knows for a fact that he is the one bleeding and dying he'll keep up his charade.

And then.

And only then.

Till truly sees Ivan.

As he dissolves in his gaze.

[hgfictionwriter]

D.D.

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: You and your friends need a ride home after a rowdy brunch together. Thankfully, ever patient, dutiful Jessie is there to drive you all - if she can endure the teasing and attention you and your friends shower her with.

Warning: Inebriation. Mild language.

A/N: Long suffering, Golden Retriever-esque girlfriend Jessie. I felt compelled to write a silly fluff piece after the recent angst.

Jessie frowned as she scanned the groups of people along the sidewalk while she slowly drove past several storefronts and restaurants. Then, even through the closed car windows, she could hear riotous hollering and laughing.

She shook her head and bit back a laugh as she spotted you and your friends standing out front of a restaurant clearly cracking yourselves up over God knows what.

She checked her mirror and pulled over, slowing to a stop. You spotted her and started jumping up and down waving excitedly, causing your friends to turn and do the same.

"Jessie!!" Your friends yelled and cheered as you all clamoured towards the car.

"Jesus Christ," she muttered under her breath as she sunk in her seat slightly and watched you all laughing and jostling against one another as you approached. You didn’t do this kind of thing too often, so it was amusing and she had to smile.

You reached the passenger door and bent down to smile and wave again before opening it. She'd just seen you this morning, but she found herself beaming upon seeing you again.

"Hi baby," you greeted as you climbed into the passenger seat, albeit, a bit clumsily. You immediately leaned over the middle console for a kiss and she fought through a laugh to give you one.

"How was your morning, baby," you went on as you went to put on your seatbelt, nearly knocking her water bottle out of the cupholder as you did so. She reached out to stabilize it while you didn't even notice.

"It was fine," she answered plainly, knowing you weren't even really listening. "How was-"

Your friends finally settled who was sitting where and opened the back doors to pile in, chaos ensuing, the car rocking back and forth as they all shuffled and pushed into place.

"Hi Jessie," they all said in unison in a singsong voice before they all doubled over into laughter. You joined them though you spun in your seat to playfully swat at them.

"Good afternoon, ladies," Jessie deadpanned, though she smirked at them in the rearview mirror. She placed an elbow on the arm rest and turned to face them. "How was brunch?"

Clearly, the drinks had been flowing.

"It was so good. You have to come next time," one of your friends said as she reached out and squeezed Jessie's arm. She rolled her eyes and sat forward in her seat again.

"And interrupt mimosa hours? Interrupt girl talk? No way. I couldn't," she said dramatically.

"You're allowed!" Your other friend said.

"And take away Y/N's chance to vent about me? No," Jessie went on with a teasing look your way. You laughed, swatting at her arm.

"Yeah right," your friend dismissed readily. "The worst thing she has to say about you is that you try to make her eat kale chips instead of regular chips."

"I'm a monster," Jessie said dryly.

"Yeah, that's why you're the only one brave enough to pick us up," your other friend said, all of you dissolving into laughter again. "Lord knows [their bf] is ‘too busy’."

"He's such an asshole," you blurted out. "You just need to dump his ass already."

"Well, when you find me someone as lovely as this angel over here," your friend said in exaggeration as she gestured in Jessie's direction, "I will." She leaned forward, almost falling off her seat as she tried to get Jessie's attention. "Y/N said you have a brother. Is he like you? Is he single?"

"Nope," Jessie cut-off, holding up a hand and shaking her head. "We're not going there." Despite herself, she could feel her face heating up under the attention of your friends. It was like this every time, drinks or not. She turned around and pointed to each of your friends. "Seatbelts."

"Yes, Jessie," they answered in that silly singsong response again and Jessie flushed further. She sighed exaggeratedly before turning on her blinker and pulling out into traffic.

"You guys," you said sarcastically as you turned around again to face your friends. "Stop fawning over her like that. You know she hates the attention," you finished with an eyeroll before cocking your head at her, a lilt in your voice. "She can't help it if she's the sweetest, most beautiful, nerdiest, yet incredibly athletic, woman alive."

The car erupted in giggles.

"Oh my God," Jessie said over the noise. "You can all rideshare next time."

"You say that, but you love us," your friend said as she leaned forward, hands on the back of Jessie's seat. She let herself fall back into her own seat and snickered. "And lord knows you wouldn't want your Y/N risking a rideshare with some stranger."

"I'd be more concerned for the stranger than for you, lot," she retorted, cracking a smirk.

The quips and teasing continued throughout the ride.

"I'm hungry," you complained as she was a few blocks away from her first drop-off. A half hearted glower crossed her face as she shot you a look.

"Yeah, me too!" Came a chime of replies.

She shook her head. "Seriously? I thought you all just ate."

"Don't judge us," you chided teasingly, knowing she was just giving you all a hard time. "Where are you going to take us for food?" You asked lightly as you looked out the window. Jessie sighed and updated her navigation.

She sighed once more as she went through the impossible feat of trying to round up your orders as she pulled up to a nearby drive thru. One of your friends changed her order as Jessie was finishing relaying things and she called back, "No, I already ordered."

"Jess," you pleaded, drawing out her name. "Be nice."

She whipped her head around to look at you. She mouthed. "Be nice?" She laughed. "I'm driving your tipsy asses all around town and getting you lunch! Be nice," she finished with a scoff. Though she, of course, did update the order. Begrudgingly? Exasperated? Perhaps. But she couldn’t say ‘no’ to you.

You gave her an apologetic look and rubbed her arm in consolation before kissing her hand. She shook her head at herself. Who was she kidding - if you asked her this second to drive a town over ‘just because’, she would’ve if it would make you happy.

The car was refreshingly quiet as you all sipped on your drinks and ate your food, but it only lasted so long. The sustenance seemed to top up all of your energy levels and now you were all singing along to some ridiculous pop song you'd put on.

Finally, she reached your one friend's house, pulling into her driveway.

"Thank you, Jessie," your friend said sweetly as she pulled herself forward in her seat to give Jessie a peck on the cheek. The brunette grimaced and she brought her shoulders up around her ears as her face began to burn hot.

Each drop off went the same. They tortured her with a kiss on the cheek and one, your best friend, pinching her cheek lightly before ducking out with a laugh.

“Love you two!” Your friend called as she half stumbled up the walk to her door with a wave.

Jessie waited dutifully until your friend was safely in the house before she put the car in reverse and pulled out.

“Thank God,” she groaned facetiously as she let her head fall back heavily against the headrest. She glanced purposefully at you to find you smiling adoringly at her. She feigned a frown anyway. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“You’re a good sport,” you smiled.

“Don’t you forget it,” Jessie laughed and drove you both home.

“Thank you, baby,” you said as you leaned in and gave her a kiss once you were inside the apartment. She could still taste a faint hint of booze on your lips and she gave you an amused look. You just smiled in a mild daze. “You’re the best.”

You spun on your heel and clasped your hands together. “Oo can we watch [y/favourite movie]?”

Jessie chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Can I read my book at the same time?”

You rested your palms on her shoulders and leaned heavily in, lips stopping an inch from hers. “Of course, baby.”

Jessie rolled her eyes again and gave you a smirk as she turned you around and ushered you towards the couch. “Let’s get you settled.”

You started the movie and she laid out a blanket over you. She gave you a kiss on the top of your head.

“I’m gonna grab my book and I’ll bring you some water,” she told you as she turned to leave.

“Want me to take something out of the freezer for dinner?” She called as she came back down the hall and ducked into the kitchen. She opened the freezer and peeked over her shoulder when she heard no response. “Babe?”

She closed the drawer and returned to the living room. She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped when she saw you sprawled out on the couch fast asleep.

A goofy grin crossed her face as she quietly crossed the room over to you. The blanket had fallen partially off of you and she gingerly pulled it back up over you. She pushed a stray lock of hair out of your face and paused the movie.

She snickered quietly as she gently sat down next to you and opened her book. She whispered. “Wild brunch, hey babe?”

[mcuamerica]

Loving Flames | Part Two

Pairing: Eris x Reader

Summary: You leave Under the Mountain, going back to the Night Court... but there's a certain red head that still plagues your mind Requested by anon here.

Warnings: 18+ only, canon level violence, alludes to SA, Rhys is an asshole in this, a bit of angsty fluff and a lot of angst, slight claustrophobia, PTSD, (not proofread), let me know if anything was forgotten...

Word Count: 4k

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

Dividers from @saradika

Part One

You were in that room for the next 8 years, only going out when Amarantha commanded you to watch the tortures she knew you’d be tormented by the most. The faeries that had wings. Children. Families. You stood by Eris’s side, forced to watch as you clung to his arm. Your nails dug into his biceps so often when she was the most brutal that he had small scars there.

And his back, now. When he came back to the room from the healer that night, his entire back and chest was bandaged.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” He said to you when he found you with tears in your eyes, sitting on the bed.

“I couldn’t let her hurt you anymore. Not when it wasn’t your fault.” You said.

“She could still hurt you. She could command you out and force you to be whipped.” He said.

“I’d rather me than you.” You whispered, your knees tight to your chest.

“I wouldn’t.” He whispered. “I won’t be able to stand back and watch if she hurts you.” He said.

“Then kill her.” You simply stated, your eyes unfocused on the rug beneath the bed. “She can’t hurt you. Can’t have anyone else hurt you. Kill her and the threat ends.” You said.

Eris swore, ensuring the door was shut. He walked over to you, kneeling at your side. You felt him take your cheeks in his hands, forcing you to look at him. “You can’t say things like that out loud… you have to be careful.” He said. “I won’t let her hurt you… and I promise to get you out of this room one day.”

Eris wasn’t able to keep that promise. Not until Feyre came along. But, with the tensions between the Autumn and the Spring Court, he didn’t help her at all. And you were confined to your room for all of it other than Feyre’s trials.

When Amarantha finally died, thanks to Tamlin, you felt your tattoo dissolve against your skin. You nearly collapsed on the ground at the thought of leaving this gods-forsaken mountain. Of never seeing it again. Of never being trapped in a bedroom again, or any room. Of feeling the wind against your skin.

But that meant leaving Eris. Once Rhys told you when you would leave, you went to the room. Your prison and sanctuary for so long. “Eris.” You whispered.

He turned around from where he stood before the dresser, contemplating if he wanted to burn the clothing. “I thought you’d be gone by now.” He said.

“I can’t leave without saying goodbye.” You said, nervously playing with your fingers. “I’m going to miss you…” you whispered, silver lining your eyes.

Eris looked at you again, immediately before you. He took your cheeks in his hands. “Don’t do that.” He whispered. “Don’t lie.”

“I’m not lying. I don’t want to go to the Night Court if it means I can’t be with you.” You whispered. “You were the best thing about this Mountain. The only thing that kept me sane.” You said, tears falling from your eyes.

Eris, tears welled in his own eyes, shook his head. “You will go to the Night Court. And if the Autumn Court ever needs an emissary, you will always be welcome.” He whispered. “You will live a good, happy life. One you don’t want me in.” He said.

“But I do.” You whispered. “I need you in my life, Er.” You said louder.

“Then come find me once you’re settled. You’ll be welcomed. But if for one moment you resent what you went through down here, if you resent me for what I did, please… spend your time with your family. In your home.” Away from his family. Away from the cruelty you would endure under his father. Especially if he knew you were mates.

You sniffed, wrapping your arms around his neck as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. "Thank you. For everything." You whispered, holding onto him tight. He held onto you like his life depended on it. This may very be the last time Rhys lets him see you. And he would remember the moment for the rest of his life.

You finally pulled away, wiping at the tears in your eyes. "I'll come back for you, Eris Vanserra." You said to him, cupping his cheek.

"And I'll never forget you, Princess." He said.

You let out a watery laugh before letting go over him, taking a few steps back before you turned around and left to the upper levels of the mountain. Where you would go home with Rhys. You knew in your heart, in your soul, that you would see Eris again. And not just for courtly activities, but as friends. And maybe... if you found the strength.. more.

You stayed in the Night Court, in Velaris, for four years. Meeting with Eris only for court purposes. And even then, Azriel, Cassian, or Rhys would be by your side, leading you away from them. No matter how much you tried to convince Rhys, and the others, that Eris never harmed you Under the Mountain, no one believed you. Expect for Mor, surprisingly. She was pretty easy to convince he did nothing to you, never laid a hand on you to harm you.

You were serving as the ever dotting Princess of the Night Court when the events with Feyre and her sisters happened. While each one of them tackled a challenge of her own, and ended up with their mates. Everyone was happy... You had a nephew and a family that adored you. And yet something was still missing.

You secretly wrote to Eris every week, it becoming your favorite time when one of his letter's would appear next on your nightstand. They became increasingly intimate, but never crossed the line of love.

One day, just a few months after Elain and Lucien's wedding/mating ceremony, Rhys said the Court would be meeting with Eris at the House of Wind. And while you were to stay in your old bedroom up there, you were not allowed to see him.

"Rhys, I'm not a child." You said, crossing your arms. "I'm the Princess of the Night Court. I should be there when you plot with our allies."

"Eris is not our ally... we have a tentative agreement with him." Rhys countered.

"That's the definition of an ally." You retorted. "And besides, I know him better than you all."

"You know him from the time he held you captive-"

"The time Amarantha held me captive," You corrected.

Rhys ignored you, continuing on, "You are biased."

You took a deep breath. "I will not be kept from this courts happenings because you believe me to be fragile. And I am certain Feyre will not agree with you locking me up in my room while you talk with the Heir to the Autumn Court." You said.

Rhys narrowed his eyes, but caved and said he would allow you to be present. Only if Azriel stayed by your side the entire night. You agreed, as Azriel was one of your closest friends and hadn't been as protective as the rest of them when it came to Eris. Maybe it's because his shadows detected you were telling the truth. Maybe they were keeping an eye on you all Under the Mountain for all those years. But either way, you didn't argue with having Azriel by your side.

Taking a deep breath, you smoothed down the loose pants and tight fitting shirt you had on. Your flats matched the attire perfectly, incorporating Night Court black with Autumn Court red. You even did your makeup and hair a little bit more like the Autumn Court style. You hadn't seen Eris since the war with Hybern two years ago. While you kept contact with him, you were excited to see him.

You walked out to the main sitting area where the meeting would be held. Eris was standing there, in an Autumn green tunic and tight fitting pants. His red hair was tousled slightly, and shorter than the last time you saw it. Lucien was next to him, and the rest of your family was scattered around the room.

As Eris turned to you and gave you that smile you missed so much, a string snapped on your gut. Your eyes widened slightly as you felt the bond become even stronger than before. He must have noticed, because you saw his breath hitch.

“Eris,” you whispered, tears brimming your eyes. “It’s good to see you.” You blinked a few times, taking a deep breath to keep your composure. If you and Eris showed any affection here, Rhys would probably throw Eris off the balcony.

“You too, princess.” He said it just above a whisper.

The rest of the room looked between the two of you, all of the tension in the room because of you.

“Come on,” Azriel said, causing you to flinch at his un expected touch. “Let’s sit down.” He whispered and then walked you over to the couch. You kept your eyes on Eris, heart beating out of your chest. To the rest of them, they probably thought you were terrified to see him. Even if you had been completely fine with seeing him in the past.

Rhys walked in with Feyre, narrowing his eyes as he saw Eris staring at you. And you staring back. But you were sat next to Azriel, Eris on the other side of the room, so he let it go. “Okay, let’s talk about how you’re planning to kill your father.” He said.

“Thank you for your warm welcome into your home.” Eris said, voice dripping with sarcasm as he finally tore his eyes from you and looked to your brother.

“My home.” Nesta corrected. The House of Wind was her and Cassian’s now. Azriel was in the Town Home with Gywn and you stayed with Feyre and Rhys in the River House.

“You truly have a plan to kill your father?” Lucien said. Your father. As he recently learned Helion was his dad and not Beron.

“Yes, it’s been in the works for sometime. And Autumn is in a good position right now for a take over.” He said, leaning back in the single chair he was in.

Cauldron, he looked magnificent. He had bulked up more, his biceps threatening to tear the undershirt he wore. You wouldn’t put it past him to wear a tighter shirt to show off. Or was it to impress you? Either way, you couldn’t help but admire him. The way his hair fell onto his forehead, even though it should’ve been slicked back. How the pants fit his thighs just right. And gods, the way that smirk played on his tips as he talked about his plans. He was happy to kill his father. He was doing it for you, though you didn’t know it.

You barely heard a word of what they said as you watched Eris. Your eyes never left him. To the others, again, it looked as if you were scared. But as Azriel glanced between the two of you, and caught some stolen looks from Eris to you, he knew it wasn’t fear that was keeping you quiet. It was affection. You couldn’t think of what to say, so you sat quietly and listened. Or, Azriel thought you were listening. You were just admiring your mate.

Eris was your mate. And you couldn’t wrap your head around it. He must have known… and not told you because of the tensions between Autumn and a Night. But still, how long had he known? Did he know when you were Under the Mountain? Before? Is that the only reason he was kind to you?

Thoughts raked your brain as you spiraled down into your mind, and Azriel was the first to notice your short breathing. “(Y/N)?” Azriel whispered.

You looked up to him, finally breaking your stare from your mate. “Do you want to leave?” He asked.

You shook your head, leaning back in the love seat as you finally started to listen to what they had to say.

Eris would kill his father within the week. And he was requesting help from the Night Court to help him do it. It would be by poison, at an Autumn ball in three days. That each Night Court member would be at. And everyone would play their part.

So, as you listened to the plan, you couldn’t help but wonder what this would mean for you. Would Eris want you to be his mate if he was High Lord? He certainly didn’t say anything to you… maybe he was just being nice because mates shouldn’t hurt each other. Maybe he doesn’t want anything to do with you.

You blinked as everyone stood up, and Rhys shook Eris’s hand tentatively. He whispered a ‘if you betray us, you die’ that wasn’t even a whisper, everyone heard it. And then Rhys walked out. You glanced to Azriel as everyone else walked out besides Eris.

“Az… can you give us a moment?” You asked quietly. Azriel looked between you and Eris skeptically. You noticed as his ears perked and his eyes widened slightly as his shadows told him something.

He gave a slight nod. “I’ll be right outside.” He said before turning around to leave. Once he was out of the room, you ran over to Eris. You slung your arms around his neck as he pulled you close to his chest, his arms around your waist in an instant.

“I’ve missed you.” You whispered against his neck.

You felt him smile against the top of your head, pressing a soft kiss there. “Me too, princess.” He whispered.

“How long have you known?” You asked as you pulled away. “About the bond?” Your voice was shaking, your eyes hoping for a good explanation.

“Since before your mother died… your first introduction to the Courts with your father. It snapped for me the moment I saw you.” He said and cupped your cheek when you pulled away. “I didn’t want to tell you because I knew we couldn’t be together. Your father would never allow it. Your brother certainly wouldn’t.” He said.

“You didn’t think to tell me Under the Mountain?” You asked. You weren’t hurt about his secrecy, surprisingly. He had been protecting you for years. How could you be mad at him?

“I did… I wanted to so many times. But I didn’t want to force it on you down there. Or make it seem like I was trying to win you over. I just wanted you safe. And if Amarantha knew you were my mate, she might have done something to hurt you…” He said.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see it until now.” You said, leaning your forehead against his.

“I don’t want anyone to know. Not until my father is dead and he has no chance of using you against me.” Eris whispered.

“I want to accept it.” You whispered. “As soon as we’re both safe.” You told him, searching his eyes.

Neither of you had been remotely intimate. Hugging and sharing a bed was the extent to how you interacted Under the Mountain and after too. But now, you wanted to do everything with him. Wanted to kiss him, feel his warm lips on yours. You wanted him inside you, his flaming body against yours as you connected in a way no one else could. You wanted him to be your mate, officially. You wanted everything with him. Including children. A kingdom to rule, if he’d have you as his Lady.

Eris’s face at your words softened even more, tears lining his eyes. “Soon, I promise. But we will wait until after my father dies.” He said. “And when I am High Lord, we will accept it in whatever way you want. A large ceremony. A small one. You could give me a tree nut and I would be happy.” He said. “As long as I can be with you.”

“I don’t care. I just want to be your mate.” You told him.

“I’m glad we agree.”

After that week, and after the ball where Eris's father "unexpectedly" died from a heart problem, Beron's powers were passed to Eris. And now, the heir of the Autumn Court was no more, instead, he was the High Lord of Autumn. Your mate.

While you wanted to immediately mate him, Eris wanted to establish his court before announcing his Lady of Autumn. So, you needed to distract yourself. And it happened that Tarquin invited you to the Summer Court to help strategize their rebuilding of the city. In reality, you were going for a vacation to relax. And distract yourself.

So, as you were packing your bag, Rhys knocked on the door.

You turned, giving your brother a small smile.

"You sure you want to leave?" He asked you.

"Yes, I can't wait to lay on the beach and relax for two weeks." You said happily.

"I'm sure it's been hard for you this past week," he said.

“Why?” You asked, zipping up your bag before turning towards him.

“Because… of having to be around Eris.” Rhys said, as if it were obvious. Though, while it was hard being around Eris, he thought it was because of how Eris hurt you. For you, it was hard because you wanted to tell the world about your mate. And you couldn’t.

“It wasn’t, not for the reason you’re implying.” You said. “I like spending time with Eris. And I’ve told you countless times before, he never hurt me.” You said.

“He locked you away in a room.” He said.

“Amarantha locked me away in a room.” You said.

“Because of Eris. Because he was trying to get you outside.”

“Because of her. Not Eris. He was being whipped and I made a decision to not let him suffer.”

“Why?” Rhys demanded. “Why make yourself a prisoner for him? Why not let him bleed? He’s not a good male.”

“He is!” You said. “You see what you want to, Rhys. You can assume all you want to but I spent 50 years with him. He never once touched me without asking. Never once crossed a line. And he didn’t even do it because he was scared of you. He did it because he respects me. And he cares for me.” You said.

“Why would he? When you’re the sister of his enemy? He wouldn’t do anything if it wasn’t for his benefit?” He asked.

You took a deep breath. “He’s not as selfish as he seems, Rhys.” You said, crossing your arms. “Why did you help Feyre when she was the betrothed to your enemy?” You asked.

“That’s different. Feyre is my mate.”

You paused for a moment, trying to choose your words carefully. “But no matter how cruel of a male you seemed to the outside, you were always kind to her… other than making her drink on faerie wine and parading her around at night.” You said. “Eris never did that to me…”

“He still kept you with him all those years. He could’ve given you away, let you stay with me. He could’ve-“

“He was protecting me.” You simply stated.

“Why?”

“Because I’m his mate!” You yelled. You knew you were screwed the moment the words left your mouth. Why did you just say that?

Rhys blinked. The only way he showed his shocked. “No, he isn’t.” He said.

“Yes he is. The bond snapped for me last week.” You said. “Before he was High Lord.”

“He’s tricked you. You can’t be his mate.” He said.

“My walls are stronger than yours, Rhysand. He couldn’t trick me if he wanted to. I am his mate. And he is mine. And he took care of me when no one else did.” You said, holding your head high. “As soon as I get back from Summer, I am going to Autumn and offering him food.” You said.

“And what? Leave your home? For that family? For him?” Rhys growled.

“For my mate. For the male that protected me and helped me and kept me sane for 50 years. For him, the male I love.” You said.

“No,” Rhys said, shaking his head. “He isn’t your mate. He must have tricked you… you won’t be going to Autumn.” He said.

You rose your eyebrows. “And how are you going to stop me?” You asked.

“I won’t let you leave.” He said.

“What are you going to do? Restrict me to the Night Court?” You asked. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

“Why?”

“To protect you.”

“That’s not protection, Rhys. That’s imprisonment.” You said, searching his eyes. It occurred to you then that he might not be kidding. Rhys was notoriously protective of you. And he would go to far lengths to keep you from harm in his mind.

“You won’t leave this room, (Y/N), unless you promise you won’t go to Autumn.” He said.

“I won’t promise that. I’m not going to stay away from my mate.” You said. “And you can’t keep me here.”

“I will.” He said, taking a step out of your room.

“And what are you going to do? Block my path all night?” You asked, seething.

“No. There are wards around your room now. If you try to leave, you’ll see what happens.” He said.

Your eyes widened at the thought of being trapped in a room. “What?” You asked, your voice cracking.

“Unless you agree to never accept the bond with Eris, you’ll be in this room. And the wards won’t let anyone else but me in and out.” He said.

Your breathing started to quicken, walking towards the door but stopping right in front of it. “Rhys, do not lock me in this room.” You said, tears brimming your version.

“Do you promise to not go to Autumn? To not mate with Eris?” He asked.

“No.” You said quietly.

“You’re meant to be gone for two weeks. I’ll come back then to see if you’ve changed your mind.” He said.

“Rhys, please.” You begged, stepping forward again. You watched as he walked away, your breath catching in your throat.

“Rhys!” You yelled, taking a step to leave the room but coming in contact with a clear hard wall. “Rhys!” You sobbed, backing on the invisible door. You took a step back, trying to find your breath. “Rhysand!” You yelled again, only for your door to slam shut in front of you.

You fell to the floor, banging on the door. “Rhys!” You begged again, leaning your forehead against the. Your vision blurred, the walls closing in on you. Suddenly, you were back Under the Mountain. Trapped in that room with no wind or no windows. Eris healing from his wounds.

Your sobbed shook your body as you tried to breath. You closed your eyes as you sunk to the floor, pulling your knees to your chest.

"Rhysand!" You let out a scream, so primal and raw that your throat strained.

You continued shaking, sobbing, hyperventilating as you rock yourself back and forth. You tried to convince yourself you were safe. You weren't hurt. But you couldn't leave. Couldn't get out of this room if you tried. You couldn't see your mate.

Your sobs overtook your breaths as you lost focus, shaking at the feeling of desperation. You were trapped in this room. You couldn't get out. Wouldn't get out unless you promised something terrible to your brother. Your brother who you thought loved you. But someone who loved you wouldn't do this. They wouldn't trap you in a room after what happened Under the Mountain. What would Feyre do when she found out about this? Would Rhys keep you here longer than 2 weeks? Would you be trapped here forever.

The walls continued closing in on you as your mind spiraled deeper and deeper. When you had the strength to open your eyes, the room was dark. Your powers couldn't get you out, but they consumed you. The darkness wasn't welcomed though. It only made your breath quicken more. No light. No windows. No Eris.

How would you live like this?

Part Three

A/N: GODS this was a good one to write... can you imagine what Eris is going to do when he finds out what Rhys did????

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[ichorai]

weave ; coriolanus snow.

pairing ; young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; there was a rose in his hand, you realized. white, just like the one he gave to you when he first met your parents. but it wasn’t for you, since he had yet to hand it over— you figured it was for lucy gray. you would’ve thought it was sweet of him, if only you hadn’t been aware of his motivations to gain her trust. still, you’d be a hypocrite if you criticized him for it. you’d also brought something for your tribute.

words ; 6.8k

themes ; mild fluff/angst, action

warnings / includes ; themes of classism, violence/injury, lucky flickerman is a close family friend of reader's, coryo's paranoia, he's not exactly toxic yet but the seeds are very much planted, i tried to keep him in character as best i could </3

a/n ; there will be a fourth part loosely following the events of the movie (obv tweaked for the fic!)

series masterlist. main masterlist.

It was humiliating, how nervous he was. Reaping day. The Plinth prize was just a whisper away—he could nearly taste it: phantom traces of rich chocolate and edible gold on his dry tongue.

The day before the exams, you’d pulled him into the library for one last study session. You whispered that you would botch one of your papers for him—he certainly needed the Plinth prize more than you. And though he knew that you’d be far more deserving of it (your grades were near impeccable, and impossible for him to try and compete with), he also knew that his pride wouldn’t ever recover from such a blow.

Because how could he face you after that? Knowing that he was… inferior?

And so he told you not to squander your own achievements for him—that he’d figure something out. You spared him a hesitant look, before turning back to your books. 

Now that the exams were over and done with, Coriolanus briefly wondered if you went ahead and botched it anyway. An irrational sort of anger flared within his chest. Did you think you were better than him? That he was your charity case?

But all those terrible thoughts—the nastiness sweltering in his chest for days after the exams—dissolved almost immediately after seeing you. 

You met him in front of the academy, your dress a lovely shade of crimson, angular at your shoulders but tapering down into flowing ripples below your waist. Like fire, almost. You were glowing, he was sure of it, with the way the sun illuminated only the best of your features—the slope of your nose, the curling of your lips, the glimmer in your eyes. 

“Coriolanus,” you greeted with faux formality, tilting your head to the side. He was wearing his dress shirt again—the very one you watched Tigris mend and sew and tinker many, many times. Pinned to his waistcoat was another red rose, matching the shade of your own attire. 

He mirrored you, sweeping into a low bow and brandishing another rose out of seemingly nowhere. “For you, darling. Grandma’am said she could spare it—special occasion and all.”

“Oh, don’t call me that,” you said, rolling your eyes at the ridiculous pet name. It was what your parents called each other when they thought nobody was around to hear it—it made you feel old. “And tell Grandma’am thank you. It’s beautiful.”

He smiled, stepping forward to slot the rose behind your ear. “Ready for your Plinth prize?” he asked, fingers lingering by your face, thumb stroking down your jaw.

You sucked in a breath. “I don’t think it’s going to be what either of us expect.” 

There was a brief pause. Coriolanus’ eyes narrowed. Had you botched your exams for him? 

With a pointed glance to the academy halls, you nudged him forward. “Come on. Everyone’s already inside. Clemmie keeps asking for you.”

The two of you made your way in, weaving between red-uniformed academy students (the ones who weren’t at the very top) and professors. Behind another set of double doors were where all the top-ranking students were mingling. Sipping on bubbling glasses of colorful drinks, picking off delicate foods from ceramic plates. 

While Snow was stolen away from you by a few other classmate acquaintances, Sejanus was the first to greet you, shaking your hand enthusiastically. His palms were sweating. You didn’t quite mind. “Congratulations on finishing exams, Y/N. I know how hard you’ve been studying.”

You flashed him a genuine smile. “Congrats to you, too. I’m surprised you’re here at all, actually. I know how you feel about the reaping.”

His expression faltered. “Ma made me come. Moral support for my friends, and all.”

Ma. The word sounded foreign and heavy on the tongue. Unfamiliar… but rather inviting. Homely, in a way. Despite your initial silence, you managed to recover just fine. In a lowered voice, you whispered to him, “Well, my mother thinks it’s a rather dreadful affair. A waste of potential talent, sending children to their deaths, she says. I can’t help but agree with her. Father thinks it’s necessary, though.”

Sejanus pursed his lips. No doubt questioning the necessity of watching the people he knew from his childhood in the district getting brutally murdered. It looked like he was going to say something else, but before he could, Arachne’s high-pitched voice cut through the two of you. You grimaced, catching Coriolanus’ eyes as he stood right behind her. Judging by his mildly annoyed countenance, he wasn’t having a very good time chatting to her, either.

“Spill it, Sejanus,” she demanded in a prissy tone. “Who won the prize?”

The dark curls on Sejanus’ head shook as he silently scoffed. “Oh, no, I’m not going to ruin my father’s big day. No one here actually likes him but they do love his money… you know what that’s like, don’t you, Arachne?”

Her nose wrinkled in part-contempt, part-disgust. “Funny,” she deadpanned. 

Coriolanus stepped around her so he could curl an arm over your waist. “We all know who’s going to win it, anyway.” His grip squeezed over the smooth fabric of your dress. 

Arachne rolled her eyes and marched away, off to find someone else to bother. 

Left with just the two of you, Sejanus dipped his head and muttered, “Look, I know you guys have had high hopes for this but… there’s no prize. Not anymore.”

There was a terse pause. Your head reared back incredulously, searching Sejanus’ expression for any signs of fibbing. Then you looked to Coriolanus, eyes wide. 

“What?” he asked, words sharp, looking almost offended.

“I’m so sorry—”

Before Sejanus could finish his sentence, loud trumpets echoed throughout the hall and all the students began making their way to the plush velvet seats laid out in front of the podium. Coriolanus’ hand slipped away from you, balling into a tight, pale fist. You sat down first, Sejanus going on your right, Coriolanus to your left. Clemensia was on his other side, flashing you an attractive smile. You couldn’t find it in you to smile back.

If there was no prize, what were they going to dole out instead? A free holiday, all expenses paid? A new television? A pair of fuzzy socks?

Your rather prickly thoughts were interrupted when a woman stepped up behind the podium. She was dressed in lavish plum robes, intricate beige patterns weaving through the threads. From afar, it looked like there was flesh stitched onto the fabric. Her hair was greyed and a calculated sort of haphazard. One of her eyes was beady and blue, the other dark and large, almost eclipsing any of the white bits. 

She tapped the microphone once, earning herself a buzz of feedback, and tittered with unnerving laughter. Volumnia Gaul was what she introduced herself as. Her voice was low and gravelly. When she went on to say that she was the head gamemaker, your and Coriolanus' heads both snapped to Sejanus, but his gaze was fixed onto the ground, face grim.

After a bit more faddering about the future, Dr. Gaul introduced the creator of the games and dean of the academy—Casca Highbottom. He sauntered forward from somewhere within the seats, mind very clearly addled with a drug of some sorts. Morphling, you’d wager.

“I can’t believe they still allow him to speak in public,” Clemensia said to Coriolanus amusedly. He didn’t spare her a response.

He dragged on his little speech, as if he took pleasure in dangling the golden carrot in front of the donkey. Your hands twitched in an antsy fashion, and you neatly folded them over your lap.

“My own twenty-four top prospects. All waiting to hear the results of your hard studying in this prestigious institution, eager to know who’s won that Plinth prize, no doubt. And a golden future, with it.” He catered forward with a slurred laugh. “However… I’m here to tell you all that there’s been a change this year.”

Murmurs rippled throughout the crowd. Coriolanus’ chin lifted higher, back straightening.

“One last assignment to prove your worth,” Highbottom continued on. He began to pace back and forth, reminiscent to that of a caged tiger. “The esteemed citizens of the Capitol simply aren’t watching anymore. And if the games are to continue at all, there must be an audience, no?”

More murmuring. Your eyes narrowed. Twenty-four top students… twenty-four tributes… 

Oh, no.

You sucked in a quiet, barely noticeable inhale with the realization. It was enough for Coriolanus’ eyes to land on you, but you were staring at Sejanus, as if trying to get him to hear your thoughts. 

Tell me it isn’t true. Tell me we won’t have to play a hand in such a barbaric game.

“Head gamemaker Dr. Gaul has stepped in to… incentivize patriotic values with her own unique flair, starting with you. The Plinth prize will no longer be determined by who has the best grades.” 

For a moment, Highbottom’s gaze drifted over to you. Somewhere behind you, you could hear Arachne’s affronted, “Excuse me?”

You weren’t quite sure why she was upset. It’s not like she had a chance with the prize if it were grade-based.

“Instead, it will be decided by who is the best mentor in the hunger games.”

Your jaw clenched. Clemensia appeared bewildered. Coriolanus looked shaken. Sejanus was visibly distraught.

“As the reaping begins, I will allocate each one of the top twenty-four Capitol students a district tribute. A figure behind the scenes—one who must persuade them to perform for the cameras.”

This was met by a barrage of questions and protests from the students. Highbottom waved most of them away.

“Your role is to turn these children into spectacles. Not survivors… victory in the games is only one of the considerations. Your entire future rests on this last project.”

It was a terrible thing to imagine. Two dozen district lives in exchange for a bit of cruel entertainment for the Capitol. You were never fond of it, but you kept quiet on the matter because you had the luxury of turning your head away. Turning the television off and straying away from such brutalities. 

But now that you were being forced to look—no, more than that—you were being forced to pull strings, it was altogether a nauseating thought.

“Oh, and I must warn you… anyone caught cheating to give their tributes an unfair advantage…” Highbottom’s spectacled eyes swept over the lot of students. “Well, they’d just have no future at all.”

More trumpets rang throughout the hall. 

The Dean clapped his hands together. “Here we go! Let the reaping ceremony begin!”

Two large screens hanging over the podium lit up for the first district—a tall boy on the left, a sallow-faced girl on the right. Dean Highbottom began to list off student names as mentors. 

To none of your surprise, Sejanus got the male tribute from district two. Coriolanus shot him a thinly-veiled, wry smile over your shoulder. “You got the pick of the litter.”

Sejanus refused to meet his gaze. “You forget… I’m part of the litter.”

On the names rattled—districts three, four, five, six, and seven all passing by in a blur. 

Juno Phipps was called out for district eight’s male tribute. She sat somewhere behind you, and you could hear her puff a sigh of disappointment.

Then your name came straight after. 

Your head snapped from Highbottom to the screen, eyes widening. 

Wovey, her name was. She was a small little thing—you could see her frail, skeletal figure even through a grainy screen from afar. The striped dress she wore was patchy and frayed, darkened with soot and dirt. How old was she? She was probably one of the youngest tributes yet—you’d guess that she was barely thirteen, maybe even twelve. Something in your stomach jolted. Momentarily, you’d forgotten that this little girl was meant to be your school project.

District eight. The textiles sector. You blinked at the screen and shifted uncomfortably in your expensive-tailored dress—a dress that very likely came from the very same district. 

Highbottom called out names for the next district. Clemensia was pleased with her large, burly tribute from the eleventh district. Coriolanus was yet to be mentioned. You glanced over at him, before reaching out to take his hand. He didn’t look at you, but squeezed your palm in what you read to be silent gratitude.

And finally—with only one tribute left, Highbottom coughed out what sounded to be a laugh. “The runt girl from district twelve… she belongs to Coriolanus Snow.”

The grip he had on your hand tightened until it was bordering on painful. You said nothing about it. Highbottom had always been a grouchy man, but he seemed to have a fixation on making Coriolanus’ life as tormentable as possible. 

Lucy Gray Baird.

You watched the screen in fascination when a woman sauntered out from the ranks. Her hair was dark and curly, unruly in a way that suited her perfectly. Upon further scrutiny, you noticed small wildflowers woven through the strands, limp with time. She wore makeup, which wasn’t something you often saw in tributes. A deep blue eyeshadow and slightly-smudged rouge on her cheeks and lips. But what really caught your attention, however, was the dress she was wearing. It was a startling contrast to her name—with its bright, colorful ruffles on her skirt, the front of her corset bearing lovely details of flowers and vines. 

She was beautiful.

“What is that dress?” sneered Arachne, in an obvious attempt to rile Coriolanus up. “Is she some sort of clown?”

But suddenly, Lucy Gray stepped out of her path towards the stage and grabbed a girl to her right. Or, more accurately, the girl’s collar. She promptly dropped something down her dress and hurried off. Screams erupted from the screen as the girl writhed with terror, screaming for someone to, “Get it out! Get it out!”

Coriolanus stood abruptly, letting your hand go. You hadn’t noticed just how much feeling you’d lost in your arm, and gingerly shook it back to life.

The grainy screen showed a small snake skitter out of the bottom of her dress. 

When Lucy Gray finally made it up on the stage, she was harshly struck across the face by district twelve’s mayor. The blow made her head crack to the side and she went tumbling down. You frowned, but couldn’t take your eyes away. 

It took two peacekeepers to haul the furious mayor away. You mutely realized that the girl was the mayor’s daughter. 

Lucy Gray laid there, face aching. 

And then—singing. A small voice from within the crowd. Five seconds later, another joined. And another, and another. Even through the screen, when Lucy Gray tilted her bruised face up and struggled back onto her feet, you could see the pain in her eyes. Was that her family singing for her?

The woman made her way to the microphone. She began to sing with a quivering lip. Her voice was soft and smooth, silken to your ears.

“She’s singing?” Arachne commented in a pinched tone. “Is she out of her mind?”

“Shut up, Arachne,” you turned to snap at her. She made a strangled noise in the back of her throat, but didn’t say anything else, to your relief.

Coriolanus watched the screen with unsettled eyes. A million thoughts rushed through his mind at once. Most unpleasant, many rageful, some curious. 

And to bring her singing to a sudden halt, Lucy Gray screamed into the microphone. 

“YOU CAN KISS MY ASS!” 

The students burst into laughter, incredulous gasps, and scandalized murmurs. Coriolanus glanced around. He met your eyes, and you gave him half an amused smile. His tribute knew how to put on a show, that was for sure. 

He smiled back, and turned to the screen once more.

Lucy Gray lowered herself into a deep bow for the audience. District and Capitol alike. 

What an intriguing girl, you thought.

“She’s mentally ill,” Arachne buzzed. 

It took every bit of your willpower not to turn around and strike her across the face. But you thought back to the furious mayor, and of the little girl you were supposed to mentor, and kept your hands folded neatly over your lap.

You found yourself at the Snow penthouse that night. There was nothing to study, not anymore, so you lounged on a rickety chair and watched Tigris sew together pieces of blue fabric. She wanted to make you a dress, and though you had more than enough of your own, you couldn’t ever say no to her. Being around her took your mind off of the games, even for just a few minutes.

Coriolanus, however, was pacing back and forth in front of the two of you. Muttering angrily under his breath, nose twitching with disdain.

“He’s sabotaging us. That girl’s never going to win the games,” he hissed, plucking the rose off of his waistcoat and tugging at its petals. They fluttered down to the floor. “You saw her, didn’t you? She’s underfed. Unstable.”

Pot, meet kettle. 

You pursed your lips. “Highbottom said you’re meant to make a performance out of them. It isn’t just about winning.”

“Everything is about winning!” he asserted, carding a frustrated hand through his flaxen tresses. “If not the games, then the crowd. And Lucy Gray won’t survive a minute inside that arena.”

You sighed. Little Wovey didn’t seem too likely to survive, either. She wasn’t a fighter by any means. Maybe she was a fast runner? 

“So that means we have to make every second before then count.” Coriolanus reached out to cup your face, and you leaned into his touch, kissing his palm. Tigris shot the two of you a side glance and smiled to herself.

“What’re you planning?” you asked. 

“I’ll make her sing again,” he said, sounding so sure of himself.

This made Tigris’ brows cinch together. “I wouldn’t sing a note for you if I was her. I wouldn’t do anything at all… not unless I knew I could trust you.”

Coriolanus regarded his cousin with a cynical stare. “She’s district, Tigris. She knows we hate her and she wants us dead. How am I supposed to get her to trust me?”

“We?” you echoed, shaking your head. “I don’t hate her. I don’t even know her. Do you?”

“I—”

You lifted up a hand, effectively cutting him off. “Do you know her, Coriolanus?”

His jaw set with a click. You had your answer.

“How can you hate someone you don’t know? Look, you don’t have to like her. Just convince her that you do.” You crossed your arms, thinking of the little girl you were meant to mentor. It was going to be hard to like her, anyway, knowing that she was going to die soon. You wouldn’t let yourself get attached.

Tigris nodded emphatically. She paused her needlework and looked up at her cousin. “Imagine it was your name they pulled, and you were ripped from your home. I’d just want to know if somebody still cared about me out here. Don’t discount her just because she’s district, Coryo. You might have more in common with her than you think.”

Coriolanus plucked the last rose petal from the stem. You watched him with soft eyes, before drawing yourself up to your feet. 

“I think it’s time I head home. My family’s got dinner with the Flickermans tomorrow.” You placed a limp hand on his jaw and kissed his cheek, then drifted down to kiss his shoulder. He smelled distinctly of roses—a fresh sort of musk.

Just as you were about to pull away, he rested his hands on your forearms, rooting you to the same spot. “We should greet them at the station. Show them that they can trust us.”

You searched his face for genuinity. It wasn’t an entirely terrible idea.

“You sure?” you asked. It wasn’t a secret just how uncomfortable Coriolanus was around district folk.

“Yeah. We can… get ahead of the other students. You’re way more approachable than me, anyway. Maybe they’ll like you more,” Snow offered. A part of you wondered what he’d do if you said no. 

The thought of meeting your assigned tribute made your stomach do somersaults. Finally, you nodded. “Okay. I’ll meet you at the station, then?” 

Snow smiled in a charming manner. He dipped forward to slant his lips over yours, and you melted into his touch, almost forgetting that Tigris was there—until she made a noise of disgust and told the two of you, “Eugh! Do that somewhere else, please!”

Coriolanus was there before you, sticking out like a sore thumb in his academy red against the cold, rusted metals of the train cars. You wore a dark coat over your uniform, trying to look a little more discreet. 

“Are they here yet?” you asked, steps quickening to him. He took your hand and squeezed.

“Anytime now.”

The two of you stood shoulder-to-shoulder as you waited, exchanging light conversation. There was a rose in his hand, you realized. White, just like the one he gave to you when he first met your parents. But it wasn’t for you, since he had yet to hand it over— you figured it was for Lucy Gray. You would’ve thought it was sweet of him, if only you hadn’t been aware of his motivations to gain her trust. Still, you’d be a hypocrite if you criticized him for it. You’d also brought something for your tribute. 

A juice box. Grape. Still cold, beading with condensation.

You wondered if they had juice boxes out in district eight.

Another train rolled to a grueling halt to the track on your left. The cars were due for a good scrubbing, you thought. They were absurdly filthy—you weren’t even sure what its original color was meant to be.

Peacekeepers stepped up, disregarding the two of you, and began yanking the doors open. There were disgruntled noises coming from inside, and a few minutes later, the grey soldiers were pulling out the tributes.

You searched through the small crowd frantically. The boy from 11th—Reaper, you recalled his name was—caught your eye and just about snarled. You tried your best to ignore him.

When you found the little girl, little Wovey, you slipped away from Coriolanus and stepped forward. In your peripheral vision, you spotted him moving towards Lucy Gray.

Wovey was staring at a particularly uninteresting spot on the ground. She had her skinny arms wound around her midriff as if she was cold, despite the warm temperature that morning. When your shadow fell over her, her large, tearful eyes slid up to meet yours. 

“Hello, Wovey,” you whispered in what you hoped was a welcoming, not-at-all-intimidating voice. You told her your name, making sure to enunciate the syllables slowly, so she’d have no problem repeating it back. She didn’t, but perhaps she would later. “I’m your mentor.”

“Mender?” Her voice quaked.

“Mentor. I’ll be helping you in the arena, during the game. Here, I have something for you.” You reached inside your coat, eyeing the peacekeepers warily. Either they didn’t notice, or they were just pretending not to. You wondered how many of them knew your father. “Do you guys have juice boxes back where you live?”

You held out the cold little box for her to take. She blinked at it warily.

“It’s grape,” you said.

She reached out and took it from you. You offered her a gentle smile, and she mirrored you with a shy grin. 

“Can I share it?” she croaked. Wovey looked back at the male tribute from the same district—Bobbin. Were they friends?

“Of course, sweetheart,” you said warmly. 

Sweetheart? Where’d that come from?

The peacekeepers began rounding up the tributes, shoving them in the direction of a truck. You dipped your head at one of the grey soldiers as he took Wovey’s arm.

“Be gentle with her,” you told the peacekeeper. He met you with a stoic expression, but nodded once, before urging Wovey onward.

It was hard to tear your eyes away from her, but you forced yourself to do so, bounding towards Coriolanus and—

“Lucy Gray,” you greeted, just before saying your own name as you moved to stand beside Snow. Her dress looked even brighter in person, even if it was caked in filth. “I hope Coriolanus hasn’t scared you off yet.”

“Who’s this?” she asked, her dark eyes flitting from Snow to you. “Another mentor?”

“Mmh. Not yours though. I’m dedicated to the little girl from district eight,” you replied. 

There was something in her eyes that softened. 

“You’ll take care of her?” she asked.

You exchanged an uncertain glance with Coriolanus. “I’ll try my best to. Just like my boyfriend here for you.”

“Boyfriend, huh? Y’all make an attractive couple, that’s for sure.” Lucy Gray smiled, wide and genuine. It faded instantaneously once she spotted a peacekeeper approaching. She plucked the rose from Coriolanus’ unsuspecting hands. “Well… good luck with that.”

The soldier grabbed her by the arm and shoved her into the direction of the car.

Coriolanus stepped forward. “Wait, no—I, hey, I’d like to escort my tribute—”

They all ignored him. You pursed your lips, before following behind two of the soldiers, peeking around the bend. The truck’s doors were wide open for you to slip into. Snow met your eyes when you beckoned him over.

“We can sneak in,” you whispered. “When they’re not looking.”

“Are you insane? We don’t know where they’re going!” he responded in a lowered voice, taking your arm, not unsimilar to how the peacekeepers grabbed the tributes. “I don’t want you getting hurt because of me.”

“They won’t hurt me,” you told him. It didn’t dawn on you that Coriolanus was referring to the district tributes, not the peacekeepers. Quick and chaste, you pressed a kiss to his lips. “You coming?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. He blew out a frustrated breath, before letting you go and giving you the green light by motioning for you to get a move on. Nerves peaking with adrenaline, you glanced around again, satisfied that no peacekeepers were looking, and rushed into the truck. You felt Coriolanus’ chest brush against your back as he hurried in after you.

You hid in the shadows of the trucks’ slants just as the peacekeepers slammed it shut. A victorious smile stretched your lips thin. You made it.

Oh, your father was going to murder you. Snow first, maybe, and then you. Your mother would probably find the situation all too funny. Though, as you found all the tributes’ eyes locked on you and Coriolanus, you realized that it probably wasn’t funny at all, not in the slightest.

“Hello,” you said in an awfully wavering voice. Coriolanus echoed your sentiment, looking as if he’d seen a ghost.

“What’s the matter, pretty boy?” Reaper asked him with a scowl. “You in the wrong cage?”

“No,” he responded with a minute shrug. “This cage is delightful.”

The truck practically swayed as Reaper stormed closer to him. You instinctively grabbed his forearm, pulling him back. But clearly not quick enough, seeing as Reaper grabbed the lapels of Snow’s academy uniform, shoving him up against the wall with a loud thud. Coriolanus let out an oomf with the impact, blinking sudden white stars out of his vision. 

“I’ll kill you right now!” Reaper hissed. 

“He’ll do it, too,” warned Dill. The girl from his same district. “Reaper killed a peacekeeper back in eleven.”

“I say we kill them both!” another tribute from somewhere behind sneered.

“I’m in. Nothing left to lose now.”

You stood frozen, afraid that one wrong move would send Reaper into a frenzy. Instead, you spoke calm and clear, “We’re here to help.” Your eyes found Lucy Gray’s, then traveled over to Wovey, squeezed in the corner. “We want to help you.”

Crossing her arms, Lucy Gray said, “Y’all got family back home? They’ll kill them if you hurt a hair on their pretty Capitol heads. Then you. ‘Sides… the blonde one’s my mentor. I might need him.”

One of the tributes from district four curled her lip in contempt. “How come you get one?”

“You all get one!” Snow told her, which earned him another enraged shove by Reaper.

She guffawed—Coral, yes, that was her name—with incredulity. “What, and we’re just supposed to believe you?”

“Why else would we get in here with you?” you said, exasperated. “We don’t even know where they’re taking you guys.”

Coral cocked a brow so high it nearly disappeared behind her choppy bangs. “Whose mentor are you?”

You limply waved your fingers at Wovey. “District eight’s girl.”

“So how come Skinny and Rainbow get special treatment? Why aren’t my mentors here?” Coral leaned down towards Lucy Gray in a taunting fashion, barely glancing over at Wovey.

Lucy Gray smiled, all toothy. “They just got inspired, I guess.”

A moment later, a loud rumbling came from outside the truck. Had they already arrived? There was a whir, and the whole truck began to tilt downward. The doors swung open and shocked gasps echoed throughout the metal cavern.

Reaper relinquished his grip on Snow to grab hold of Dill, and you launched yourself at Coriolanus, trying your best to grapple onto the grooves in the walls so you wouldn’t slip. Lucy Gray yelled as her foot slipped and she went toppling down—

You grabbed her hand, grunting with the combined weight of two people. Coriolanus’ grip on the wall slipped, and he bumped into you, causing your fingers to fumble.

The three of you went rolling down, out of the truck, back into the blinding sunlight. Your shoulder hit the ground hard, another sharp rock digging painfully into your back. That’d definitely bruise later. Disoriented, you dragged yourself up from the ground, frowning at the stinging sensation in your legs. Coriolanus was next to you the next second, grabbing at your face and arms, asking if you were alright. You nodded a few times, before pushing him away to see if the tributes were okay.

All of them were dizzy and aching, but other than that—seemed just fine. Or, as fine as they could be, given the circumstances.

Only then did you look around your surroundings. Metal fencing, dirt pen, discarded tires—Capitol citizens watching with wide, curious eyes. You caught sight of the Capitol Zoo’s insignia on an ice cream stand just past the fencing. 

“Ugh,” Coriolanus muttered, pale blonde hair properly tousled over his forehead. “What are all these people doing, staring at us? Don’t they have anything better to do? Don’t they have jobs? The children should be in school. It’s no wonder this country is in shambles.”

“The kids are on summer break, Coryo,” you deadpanned, shirking off your dark coat to give it a good dusting. 

Then, a familiar voice made your head snap towards the crowd.

Cameras. Mustache. Coin flip. 

“We’ll just give them a chance to stand up and catch their breath—I do have to admit I’m jealous of that big entrance! I’m Lucretius “Lucky” Flickerman, a man who needs no introduction.”

Oh, he certainly didn’t. He and your mother were tight-knit buddies when they went to school together, making the Flickermans good family friends. This was beyond embarrassing.

“Guess where I am today, folks! That’s right, the Capitol Zoo, where this year’s tributes will be held here, on display behind these bars for your viewing pleasure! That’s right, all twenty-four of them—” That was when he turned to point, and his eyes landed on you and Coriolanus. His words faltered. “What in Panem—is that academy rouge I see?”

You stiffly waved at the camera. Absent-mindedly, you passed a hand over your head to fix your hair. 

“Hey, Mr. Flickerman,” you called out with a grimace.

Lucky’s eyes bugged out of his head. He exclaimed your name in part-confusion, part-shock. “Hey, what’re you doing in there, kiddo? Who’s that dashing young man with you? We’re live!” He jutted a thumb back at the camera, its lens facing straight at you.

You spared him a stiff smile, eye twitching. Oh, your father was going to pop a blood vessel, you were sure.

“Uhm… well, uh—” The words caught in your throat and you lowered your voice so only Coriolanus could hear you. You had to ignore Lucky’s constant calls for your attention. “What do we do?”

His blue eyes, even paler in the bright sunlight, roamed over the onlookers. “We do what Highbottom told us to do,” he said, rolling his shoulders. He nudged you in the direction of Wovey, and began setting off for Lucy Gray. “We put on a show.”

You watched as the two, mentor and tribute, made their way to the fencing. As if there was a flip of a switch inside him, Coriolanus began to charm the onlookers and children, showing off his pearly whites, introducing himself and his rambunctious tribute. The children were enamoured with Lucy Gray, it seemed, judging by the way they bubbled over with questions about the snake, her colorful dress, her singing.

Lucky was having the time of his life interviewing them. If not for the current situation at hand—that being you trapped in a zoo enclosure—you would’ve laughed at his earnest excitement. Being a weatherman, a reporter, and an amateur-magician was apparently growing far too monotonous for someone with as large a personality as Lucretius Flickerman.

After much deliberation and cheek-biting, you turned and made your way toward Wovey, who was sitting down next to Bobbin on a tree stump. You noted the purple juice box, now crumpled and empty, discarded on the ground between them.

“Hey, guys,” you said, lowering down to one knee to speak to Wovey. “Do you want to go introduce yourself, sweetheart? Win over the Capitol citizens’ hearts?”

The young girl screwed up her face. Whether it was from shyness or distaste, you weren’t quite sure. Perhaps both. 

“I’ll be there with you. I promise,” you told her, holding your palm out for her to take.

Tentative, Wovey slipped off of the stump and clutched onto your hand. The two of you approached the barriers, with her nearly hiding behind you, clutching onto your coat.

Lucy Gray told the growing audience about her Covey family, a group of traveling musicians, and how she wasn’t actually from district twelve. Snow watched her with a somewhat proud, victorious expression. 

Lucky noticed you approaching, beckoning for the cameras to follow him as he made his way over to you. 

Quickly, he covered the top of the mic to lean forward and whisper, “Is the academy aware of what you’re doing?”

“No. Nobody told us not to, though.”

Lucky regarded you knowingly. “And does your father know about this little escapade of yours?”

“No,” you replied, frown-smiling. 

“Ooh. Good luck with that.” He spared you an amused wince. Then, he uncovered the microphone and gave the cameras another brilliant smile, introducing you with a flourish of his hands. “I’m here with a close personal friend of mine, Y/N L/N. And here we have their tribute, yes? Who might you be, young lady?”

You tried your best to encourage Wovey out of her shyness, going so far as to pat her shoulder and to gently push back the thin strands of hair falling in front of her face. She croaked out her name and her district, and Lucky asked her another myriad of overwhelming questions.

Whilst the crowd around the ever-charming Lucy Gray was watching her with curiosity and awe, the audience you were gathering looked upon Wovey with pity and something mildly akin to empathy.

There were perks to getting the youngest tribute, maybe. 

 She was telling them about how she liked to climb trees back in district eight. Yes, that’d be useful in the games. 

You looked over to see Coriolanus observing you with your tribute. He gave you a nod, perhaps a second too late. The man found himself wondering if he could somehow garner the crowd’s sympathy using Lucy Gray, too. How’d you manage to do that?

Before he could spare another thought on the matter, there was a dim buzzing coming from across the enclosure. A door opened, and four peacekeepers marched in.

“Looks like you’re going to get whisked away, kiddo,” Lucky told you, nodding behind. “Tell your mother I said hello. And make sure to take a nice, long shower before dinner tonight. Don’t want the smell of zoo hovering over my steak.”

You rolled your eyes as Lucky chuckled at his own quips, then looked down at Wovey with a far softer expression.

“I’ll be back. I’ll come back with more for you. Just hold on for me, okay?”

The frail girl nodded. She didn’t seem to want to let go of you, even when the peacekeepers began to semi-forcefully lead you away, out of the enclosure. Coriolanus wasn’t far behind, being manhandled far more aggressively than you were. 

The soldiers shoved you out the door and shut it with a heavy click of a lock, before marching off to the sides.

Coriolanus reached out for you, hands resting on your elbows. “How was it?”

“Could’ve gone worse.” You studied his features. There was a faint trace of dirt smudged across his jaw—no doubt acquired somewhere in the truck or when everyone came tumbling out. 

The two of you stared at each other for a moment longer, until you shook your head and broke into a smile, accompanied by a breathy laugh.

“Lucky called you a dashing young man.”

“He’s ridiculous,” he scoffed, and tugged you along to start walking. “Do you think either of us have a chance? At winning?”

The smile melted off your expression, and you grew somber once more. “Well… anything can happen in the arena. We just need to be smart about it. Neither of our tributes are fighters.”

Coriolanus stared off into the distance, brows cinched, heavy with thought. 

“They’ll need to be,” he said. “Surviving isn’t enough. Not in these games.”

Your lips parted, wondering what in Panem he could mean by that. Did he really expect Lucy Gray to become a killer overnight? Or was he planning for her to do something else? He didn’t seem to notice your perturbed disposition, and kissed the side of your head. 

Just as Coriolanus walked you to your doorstep, you gripped his hands, and your tone suddenly became very serious.

“I just wanted to tell you—before Highbottom announced the mentoring change, I was sure one of us would win the Plinth prize. And, well, I was going to give you the money if it came to me because I definitely wouldn’t need it. But now, since there’s a good chance neither of us are getting it…”

Snow’s features twisted with evident dismay. 

You squeezed his hands with yours. “I can get my parents to pay your university tuition, if neither of us get that Plinth prize. Please, Coryo, don’t take this as charity. Take it because I care about you. I don’t want you to get caught up in… winning these games. Whatever you’re planning for Lucy Gray… I can’t see it being anything she’d be willing to do.”

It might’ve been a trick of light, but you could’ve sworn you saw an irksome glint flash across his eyes. He bitterly came to the conclusion that you probably did botch one of your exams for him—not that that mattered now. Besides, it was you offering money, not him begging for it. The placating thought made it easier for his features to slip into a reassuring, easy softness. 

“I appreciate the offer, I really do,” Snow said, cradling your face as if you were a fragile piece of china. Yet his touch felt bruising all the same. “But you shouldn’t worry. I don’t think Lucy Gray is going to win. Not on her own, at least. So I’m going to help her—and Highbottom is going to regret ever trying to make an enemy of me.”

He dipped forward, brushed a whisper of a kiss along your cheek, and swiped his thumb over your bottom lip. 

And then he was gone.

[maudeeloise]

God i need a part two of Sworn Enemies

The reader tells the whole situation to rhaenyra who is very disappointed that her son denies his own child because of an absurd rumor.

The reader wants her to dissolve the marriage but rhaenyra tells her to make jace beg for the reader's forgiveness and jace does anything for the reader's forgiveness.

I want the reader to be a complete girlboss 💋☝️

Pleas of Pardon || j.v

Pairing : Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Warning : none

A/N : soooo… i changed some parts a bit, but the plot is still the same. this is the second part of this

You couldn’t remember the last time you had seen Jace — not that you were protesting, but a small part of you hoped for him to at least apologize before completely disappearing.

When your family first arranged you to marry Jace, you were left with no choice but to accept. The only hope left in you was for him to spare a chance for the marriage to work, even though you knew it was far too impossible to happen. That hope instantly vanished the same night he departed.

Not a single soul in the kingdom knew where he had gone. You were too ashamed to ask so the best you could do was to eavesdrop the whispers of the servants when you had your morning and evening walks around the castle. It wasn’t your fault, but you couldn’t help but to feel disappointed of yourself.

I failed, you thought to yourself as you pictured how your parents would perceive you once they heard about the rocky marriage you had with Jace.

“Where had the smile I used to know gone?” Rhaenyra asked as she came to sit next to you one afternoon at the staircase. Her eyes were filled with pity. Her smile was small. “I have missed the joyful lady who loved to retelling our people’s myths.”

You shook your head, looking down at your hands as you played with your fingers. “There’s nothing for you to be concerned about. I’m alright.”

“The whole kingdom has heared, don’t you think I haven’t?” Rhaenyra hinted a sad smile.

You shook your head, still avoiding any eye contact with your husband’s mother. “Am I a bad wife?”

Rhaenyra smile instantly fell at your words. “What do you mean? Have you done something?”

“Not that I could remember.” Your vision became blurry as the tears formed in your eyes. “I’ve tried to fix our relationship, but it’s difficult when we both know we loathed each other. I’m sure you’re familiar with that too.”

“The marriage has been done—“

“I figured that it’s best for the marriage to be dissolved.” You looked up to Rhaenyra. Your teary eyes met her surprised ones. “For the sake of ourselves. I’ll leave the land if it is needed, but I’m asking for you to let me raise the baby.”

Rhaenyra’s mouth was agape. She blinked a few times as she processed your request. “I-.” Her gaze moved elsewhere. “I’ll talk to Jace.”

“And the marriage?”

An answer you longed to hear never came as Rhaenyra stood up and left you sitting on the staircase perplexed.

Her name was stuck on the back of your throat. You wanted to call her and made her stop on her track. But instead you let out a sigh in defeat. Your body leaned against the wall weakly. Your hoping eyes stayed at Rhaenyra’s figure as she slowly disappeared behind the walls.

Lost. A word which best described your state. You were so used to having your sister by your side, supporting your needs and guaranteed you the happinnes you deserved. Then when you were on your own, you could only pray to the Gods, hoping for everything to go well, but instead it went the opposite.

Your arms hugged yourself tightly as your body balled against the wall beside you. A symbol of fear and loneliness.

Tears were threatening to fall as your breathing quickened. Your mind rushed with voices, mostly telling yourself how you couldn’t do a simple job and how you should’ve lower your ego.

You held your legs tighter to your chest as you silently sob. The sound of your soft cries echoed through the empty staircase and hallway. You couldn’t careless, you just needed someone.

The voice on your head kept screaming in your head until it hit you. You were on your own. You had no one, but yourself and your infant needed you.

Slowly, you unwrapped your arms from yourself. Your legs stretched out carefully before bringing yourself on your feet. Your fingers grazed across the stone surface of the wall as you walked towards your chambers.

You needed to leave. You needed to run away. You needed to safe yourself for the sake of you and the baby.

You jogged around the room as you collected all the little things that you felt like you needed. All the items were shoved inside her pocket bag.

“What am I missing?” You mumbled to yourself.

Your eyes scanned around the room to bring yourself the answer you needed. They landed on the wine bottle which was standing on your nightstand. A lazy smile danced on your lips before you brought yourself towards the object.

Just as you were about to get your hand on the bottle, the door to your chamber cracked open. Your head spun towards the source of the sound. Your eyes stared in horror at the thought of getting caught in the act. A long shadow of someone walking in to the room made your heart skipped a beat then it stopped when your eyes met his.

Your body froze on it’s place. A look of horror masked your future, but you slowly calmed once you studied his face. His sad eyes and almost pouted lips made you barely recognize the man standing on the other side of the room.

“Jace.” You breathed out.

“Y/N.” He called under his breath.

There was a long pause, each waited for the other to continue, but neither said anything.

Jace knew he was wrong, despite how much he hated you. A small part of him kept telling him to talk to you after that night, but he had to big of an ego, so he chose to avoid you instead of apologizing.

What he didn’t expect was for his mother who loved him dearly to side with her. At that point he knew he had to talk to you. He had to admit that he was wrong. He had to apologize and maybe more or anything else to get you to forgive him.

“I-“ Jace cleared his throat, slightly avoiding your eyes. “What are you doing?”

You furrowed your eyebrows. Anger slowly increased inside you as you feel your heart clenched. Is he bluffing?

“Nothing.” You kept your voice low, trying to control yourself from bursting out at him.

Jace awkwardly nodded before moving his gaze anywhere else but you. He suddenly found the chamber interesting whilst he studied the room.

Something didn’t feel right, he thought.

His eyes saw the small pocket bag on the couch, the cloak on the bed, and how your body kneeled too close to the bottle on the nightstand.

“Are you planning to leave?” Jace asked, his voice was laced with a hint of dejection.

You almost gave in. Almost. The way his face fell and his lips turned down into a frown. How his eyes showed longing and regret. You almost changed your mind.

You inverted your gaze from him slightly and fixed your posture. As you turned to face him, you forced yourself to show no emotion. He needed to know he deserved it.

“And what if I am?” You challenged him.

“You’re taking our baby with you!?” The frequency of his voice hightened, making the sentence sounded more like an accusation than a question.

“That’s not fair.” You whispered. “You accused me of cheating and held to your beliefs that the baby isn’t yours! How dare you include yourself on deciding whether the baby should be with me or not?”

Jace opened and closed his mouth, stopping himself from taking the argument further. He took a deep breath to calm himself.

“My apologies.” You raised an eyebrow. “I shouldn’t have accused you despite how much I hated you. I was too blinded with my emotions and I forgot that you have feelings too. I deserve every second of your loath for the rest of my life, but I’m begging for you to stay. Please, don’t leave. Please don’t take the baby away from me. I’ll do anything, I promise!”

There was a long pause. You looked down at your hands as an excuse to dismiss him from your view. You didn’t say anything, as if you were waiting for him to say more.

“Please say something.” Jace took a step towards you hesitantly.

“I need a moment.” You said shortly without bothering to give him a glance. You stood up and walked past him, leaving your shared chambers.

———————————————————————————

@semisutopia @anehkael @kaiawolf @maddie-jayne @shadowmoonlight0604 @aemondwhoresworld @cedigz

[peavhyshy]

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ - MORE THAN FRIENDS

ᯓᡣ𐭩 pairing ─ ୨୧ ─ Sarah Cameron x Bestfriend!Reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 summary ─ ୨୧ ─ in which you and Sarah share a secret kiss while hanging out alone in your room, complicating both of your relationships with John B.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 warnings ─ ୨୧ ─ sarah cheats on john b with reader, explicit language, fluff, smut, secret relationship, friends to lovers, this is set after ward blew himself up, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, fingering, oral sex, grinding/tribbing, nipple play

ᯓᡣ𐭩 wc ─ ୨୧ ─ 2,617 

⋆˚✿˖° a/n ─ ୨୧ ─ guys is it bad to sleep with your best friend when your boyfriend is being a douche and didn't comfort you after you watched your dad die? but seriously there needs to be more sarah fics on here, y'all sleeping on her

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Outer Banks Masterlist ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Navigation ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The sun had just set over OBX, casting an orange glow across the sandy beaches. Inside the your families beach house, Sarah lay sprawled across your bed, half-watching some cheesy rom-com on the little TV in your room.

"Ugh, I can't watch this anymore," Sarah groaned, grabbing the remote and flicking through channels aimlessly. She was grateful for you trying to cheer her up after the traumatic events of the past few days, but she just wasn't in the mood for happy endings right now.

You glanced over from where you sat braiding friendship bracelets on the floor. "Yeah, I'm not really feeling it either," you said with a sympathetic smile. You tied off the bracelet and scooted up onto the bed next to Sarah.

Sarah clicked off the TV and flopped back onto the pile of pillows with a dramatic sigh. "I just keep replaying it all in my head, you know? Like maybe if I had done something differently…" Her voice trailed off as she stared up at the ceiling fan swirling above you guys.

You reached over and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "It's not your fault, Sarah. There's nothing you could have done."

Sarah turned her head to look at you, her brown eyes glistening. In the soft glow of the bedside lamp, You looked so beautiful and comforting that Sarah suddenly felt the urge to kiss you. Before she could talk herself out of it, she leaned in and pressed her lips to yours.

Your eyes went wide in surprise before slowly closing as you kissed Sarah back tentatively. After a few seconds, you broke apart, blushing wildly.

"Um, wow," you breathed, biting your lip. "So that just happened."

Sarah let out a nervous laugh. "Yeah, sorry, I guess I'm just feeling extra emotional and impulsive tonight. I've always thought you were really pretty though." She grinned sheepishly.

You laughed and playfully hit Sarah with a pillow. "Oh so that's how it is, huh? Taking advantage of me in my own bedroom?"

Sarah dramatically flipped her hair. "I mean, can you blame me? Have you seen this hair?"

You both dissolved into giggles, the tension instantly broken. No matter what else was going on in your lives, you always had each other. And maybe this was the beginning of something more.

“What about John B?” you asked, putting the bracelet on Sarah’s hand.

Sarah sighed, twisting the new bracelet around her wrist. "John B…I don't know. He's been so caught up in everything with his dad and the gold, it's like he doesn't even see me anymore. I miss how things used to be between us."

She looked up at you. "But then there's this…" she gestured between you guys. "This connection we have. I've never felt this way about another girl before."

You nodded, a worried crease forming between your brows. "I know what you mean. I care about John B, but I also care about you." you bit your lip. "Maybe we should keep this between us for now? At least until we figure things out.”

Sarah considered it for a moment then nodded slowly. “Yeah, you’re probably right. No need to complicate things even more.” She linked her pinky with yours. “This can be our little secret.”

You smiled, hooking your pinky with Sarah’s. “Our secret,” you repeated.

Sarah leaned in conspiratorially. “So should we pick up where we left off before we were so rudely interrupted by your question?” you teased.

You giggled and closed the distance once more, your lips meeting in a soft, tentative kiss.

Sarah lifts your shirt over your head, exposing your bare chest. She runs her hands up your sides, caressing your soft skin as she kisses down your neck. You let out a soft gasp, tangling your fingers in Sarah's blonde hair.

"Sarah…" you breathe out, your heart pounding as Sarah's hands continue to explore your body. You feel a growing heat between your legs, this new intimacy with Sarah awakening desires you never knew you had. Sarah kisses lower, trailing her lips down your collarbone, then takes a hard nipple into her mouth. You moan, arching your back off the bed at the sensation.

Sarah lifts her head to look into your eyes, her own darkened with lust. She reaches behind you to unclasp your bra, then tosses it aside. Sarah sits back on her knees to admire your naked form, a smirk playing on her kiss-swollen lips.

"You're so fucking beautiful," she says throatily before leaning down to capture your lips once more. As your tongues meet, Sarah reaches down to undo the button on your shorts, her hand slipping beneath the waistband. You gasp into Sarah's mouth at the intimate touch, your hips bucking involuntarily. You never felt more alive than in this moment with Sarah, every nerve-ending tingling with anticipation.

Sarah's fingers dip lower, finding slick heat that makes you cry out. She strokes slowly at first, learning what makes you whimper and moan.

As Sarah's fingers work between your legs, you feel pleasure building within your core. Your breathing comes faster, soft moans escaping with each circular stroke of Sarah's fingers over your slick, swollen clit. Your hips rock uncontrollably, pushing yourself against Sarah's hand as your arousal grows.

Sarah watches your face, taking in every flutter of your eyelids, every gasp and whimper. She slides two fingers lower, teasing your entrance before pushing them inside. You cry out at the penetration, panting Sarah's name over and over. Sarah thrusts her fingers slowly at first, then faster as your inner walls clench tight around them.

The coil of tension in your belly winds tighter and tighter until suddenly it snaps, your orgasm crashing over you in waves of euphoria. Your back arches off the bed, a string of curses and Sarah's name on your lips as you come undone.

Sarah pulls back slightly to look into your eyes, her own bright with exhilaration and desire. She runs her fingers through your tousled hair and grins, trailing her hand down your body. She slips her fingers beneath the waistband of your shorts again, raising an eyebrow in question.

You bit your lip and nodded, lifting your hips so Sarah can slide your shorts and underwear off. Sarah tosses them aside, then settles between your parted thighs, kissing a path up your inner leg. You shiver in anticipation, propping yourself up on your elbows to watch. When Sarah's mouth finally finds your pussy, you gasp, your head falling back against the pillows.

Sarah hums in satisfaction at your reaction, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure through you. She uses her tongue to explore your slick folds, quickly finding the sensitive bundle of nerves that makes you cry out and clutch at the sheets. Sarah focuses her attention there, alternating between broad laps of her tongue and tight circles around your clit.

Your soon panting and writhing beneath her. "Oh god, Sarah…feels so good…" you moan. The coil of tension winds tight once more until you shatter again with a sharp cry, your thighs clamping around Sarah's head as you come. Sarah works you through it with soft licks, not stopping until you go limp with satisfaction.

Your moans fill the room as straddles you and slips off her underwear, your bodies coming together in a tantalizing display of desire. The slickness of your wetness creates friction that sends shivers of pleasure through both of you. Sarah's core radiates heat, igniting a fire within you that can't be quenched.

Your hands greedily explore Sarah's sides, eager to feel every inch of her. You grab onto Sarah's ass, pulling her closer, urging her to grind harder against your throbbing clit. Sarah leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that leaves you both breathless. Your tongues dance and entwine, a passionate tango of desire. The taste of your shared arousal fill your mouths, fueling your hunger for each other.

Your hips move in perfect harmony, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge. Sarah's grinding against your clit, your clits rubbing together in a rhythm that drives you both wild. The wetness between your legs acts as a lubricant, allowing your movements to become even more intense, more intimate.

You arch your back, offering your breasts to Sarah's hungry mouth. Sarah eagerly takes the invitation, capturing a nipple between her lips, sucking and nipping at the sensitive flesh. The sensation shoots electric sparks of pleasure straight to your core.

With one final, powerful thrust, Sarah's body shudders with pleasure. She cries out, her climax washing over her in a wave of bliss that crashes through her entire being. Her walls clench around nothing but the air, her core pulsating with every release.

Your own release follows closely behind, your body convulsing in waves of pleasure. The intense sensations ripple through you, causing you to grip onto Sarah tightly, your bodies pressed together in an intimate embrace. You both ride out the waves of your orgasms together, matching each other's moans and gasps.

When you finally break apart your both are flushed and beaming. Sarah's fingers gently stroke your face as you kiss languidly, softly.

"Was that okay?" Sarah asks after a moment, suddenly shy.

You smile, pulling Sarah down for another lingering kiss. "More than okay," you assure her. Sarah grins, nuzzling into your neck.

Sarah smiles contentedly and lays her head on on your chest, listening to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat as it returns to normal. She feels a sense of peace and belonging that she hasn't felt in a long time. Here with you, away from the chaos and tragedy of the outside world, Sarah can simply be. No expectations, no pretending - just two souls connecting on the most intimate level.

Sarah traces lazy circles on your bare stomach as you lay entwined. She thinks about how rapidly her feelings have shifted - from seeing you only as a friend, to suddenly being unable to resist her. It feels natural though, not scary or confusing like her past crushes on boys. With you it just feels…right.

Eventually your lips find each other again, the kisses growing heated once more. You roll yourselves over so you're the one on top, straddling Sarah's hips. You look down at Sarah with hungry eyes as you slowly grind against her. Sarah gasps at the delicious friction, gripping your hips.

"Now it's my turn," you say in a low voice that sends a jolt of arousal straight between Sarah's legs. You reach down and tugs at the hem of Sarah's shirt. "Take this off."

Sarah complies, pulling her shirt up over her head and tossing it aside. You make quick work of her bra too until Sarah is laid bare before her. Your admiring gaze roams over Sarah's body, making her shiver with anticipation, you capture one of Sarah's nipples between your lips.

Sarah cries out, arching up into your warm mouth. As you lavishes attention on her breasts, Sarah is reduced to a writhing, moaning mess beneath your ministrations. This is even better than she imagined as she lets you take full control. 

You kiss your way down Sarah's trembling body until your mouth replaces your fingers between Sarah's legs. Sarah closes her eyes, crying out your name as a slick tongue explores her slick folds. She reaches down to tangle her fingers in your hair, urgent moans spilling from her lips.

"Y/N, I'm close…" she pants out. The coil of tension winding tighter and tighter within her finally snaps as she comes undone under your tongue.

You take Sarah into your arms. You exchange soft, languid kisses as Sarah catches her breath.

"Wow…" is all Sarah can say, still reeling.

You grin, kissing the tip of her nose. "I'd say we're pretty good at this secret relationship thing so far."

Sarah laughs. "I'd say so too. But we should probably keep practicing, just to be sure." She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

You smirk, pulling Sarah in for another deep kiss. "I like the way you think."

Your lips meet again, both of you giddy with the exciting newness of exploring each other. For now, you’re content to stay lost in your little bubble of bliss, putting your troubles aside for a stolen moment of passion and release.

Sarah sighs contentedly, her body still tingling from her intimacy with you. She strokes your hair softly as you lie tangled together on the bed.

After a few peaceful moments, Sarah props herself up on one elbow to look down at you. "Not that I want this to end, but won't your parents be back soon?" she asks.

You glance at the clock on your nightstand and grimaces. "Yeah, probably. As much as I'd love to keep going…" You trail a hand suggestively down Sarah's side.

Sarah shivers at your touch. "Later," she promises with a grin. She gives you one last lingering kiss before reluctantly climbing off the bed to gather her scattered clothes.

As Sarah gets dressed, you sit up and wrap the blanket around yourself. You watch Sarah wistfully, not quite ready to burst this intimate bubble you’ve created. But the approaching sound of a boat motor outside makes the decision for you.

"Coming?" Sarah asks from the bedroom doorway, now fully dressed. Her cheeks are still flushed, lips swollen from kisses.

You sigh. "Yeah, be right there." As Sarah disappears down the hall, you take a moment to collect yourself. You press her fingers to your lips, Sarah's taste still lingering. Your heart flutters thinking about what just transpired between you too.

With a giddy smile, you get up to get dressed. You rejoin Sarah in the living room just as the front door opens and your parents walk in, loaded down with gear from their fishing trip. If they notice your matching blushes and shy glances, they don't say anything.

"Are you staying for dinner, Sarah?" your mom asks as she heads for the kitchen. "I'll throw some fish on the grill."

Sarah catches your eye, an impish look on her face. "I'd love to," she says sweetly. Under the table, she squeezes your hand, your secret.

The you too sat close together on the worn couch in your living room after dinner, shoulders touching. Your parents had retreated outside to the back deck, giving you some privacy. Sarah turned to you, looking into your eyes. She still couldn't believe what had transpired between you too earlier that evening.

"So…that happened," Sarah said with a small smile, cheeks flushing pink.

You nodded, biting your lip. You reached over and gave Sarah's hand a gentle squeeze. "It did. And as crazy as it sounds, it felt…right."

Sarah let out a soft laugh, interlacing your fingers. "I know, I feel the same way! I mean, I never expected this, but being with you just feels so natural."

She glanced down bashfully. "I know things with John B are complicated right now. But he's been pulling away, and you've been there for me. You make me feel safe and happy even during the worst moments."

You lifted Sarah's hand to your lips, kissing it softly. "You deserve to feel safe and happy, Sarah. I'll always be here for you, no matter what happens with John B. And if this-" you gestured between you too "-is something you want to explore, I'm open to it."

Sarah's heart swelled with affection. She leaned in and captured your lips in a sweet, lingering kiss.

"Then let's explore," she murmured against your mouth. You smiled into the kiss, twining your arms around Sarah's neck to pull her closer. 

[fruitjoos]

emergency contact

day 1 — angstober !

patrick zweig x reader

note — this is based on that one scene from mr. & mrs. smith (the series) because the show is absolutely fucking amazing and i’m obsessed with it. i def recommend everyone watch if you read this and haven’t already.

angstober masterlist

The first time you said "I do," you were standing under a barely decorated arch in a courthouse you barely remember now, wearing a dress you bought on sale. Patrick was late. Of course, he was. But you waited, heart pounding, every second feeling like an hour. You’d already slipped the ring on your finger in the bathroom, just to see how it would feel. You knew he’d come. He always did. He never had much money in his pocket, and time slipped away from him like water through a sieve, but that was okay. You loved him. You loved the way he’d kiss your forehead in the mornings, his crooked grin when he’d finally show up after keeping you waiting, and how he’d hold you tight like he was afraid you might disappear.

Tashi had pulled you aside a few days before the wedding. You remember the way her voice had softened, the edge of concern in her eyes. “Love isn’t enough to marry someone, you know that, right?" she’d said. But you didn’t listen. You couldn’t. Your heart was already tangled up in Patrick, knotted so tight it was impossible to separate where you ended and he began. So, you said “I do,” and it didn’t matter that the judge looked bored or that Patrick had scrambled in at the last second, breathless and apologetic. It didn’t matter that Tashi was right. Love felt like enough.

The break room was bustling with the usual clatter of cups and chatter, the scent of fresh coffee lingering in the air. You were focused on preparing a few snacks for the afternoon meeting, absentmindedly wiping down the counter. In the chaos, you didn’t notice the spilled water pooling on the floor. One moment you were upright, and the next, your feet slipped out from under you. Your head struck the tile with a sickening thud, and everything went hazy. The edges of your vision blurred, the world around you dissolving like a faded memory. Distant voices echoed in your ears, warped and muffled, until a sharp cry of alarm pierced through.

When you woke up, the harsh fluorescent lights of the infirmary stung your eyes. The first thing you saw was Patrick, rushing over to your side, his face scrunched up in worry, like a kid trying to solve a puzzle too big for him.

“Your mom called me,” he said, his voice soft, hands cradling yours as if you might break. He cooed over you, kissed your forehead like always, and you let yourself sink into his touch, groggy and too tired to question anything. The scans came back clean; the impact had just knocked you out for a bit, but you'd be fine.

He drove you home in silence, the kind that wrapped around you like a blanket, comforting and warm. But it was also the kind of silence Patrick hated. You could feel it simmering beneath the surface, waiting to bubble up. His mind always spun too fast when things got quiet, overthinking everything until it unraveled.

The silence lingered, grew heavier, until it pressed down on the both of you. He was gripping the steering wheel a little too tight. It wasn’t until you were slurping up the soup he’d made. Watery, lacking flavor, but still better because he’d made it, that the clock struck nine like an invisible alarm. He couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Did you call and tell your mom you were in the hospital?” he blurted out, the words crashing into the silence like a wave, startling you.

You looked up, spoon halfway to your lips, confused. “No, what do you mean?”

He set his bowl down, leaned forward slightly, and his eyes searched yours like he was looking for something you were hiding from him. “Who’s your emergency contact?”

And there it was.

You could feel where this was heading, a slow, inevitable slide. You licked your lips, buying yourself a second, before carefully placing your spoon down. “My mom,” you said, voice steady, though your stomach twisted.

His eyebrow shot up, and he scoffed, a sharp, bitter sound that filled the room. The hurt on his face was undeniable. It was painted on every line, etched deep in his features. His jaw clenched, and he shook his head like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.

“So… I’m not?” His voice was low, almost daring, like he was trying to hold it together but cracks were already showing.

You exhaled, rubbing your temples, already exhausted. “Patrick, come on—”

“No, don’t ‘come on’ me,” he snapped, pushing his chair back so hard it scraped against the floor. “I’m your husband, right? We said ‘I do,’ we made promises. But I’m not the one you put down if something happens to you? Why? Because I’m not reliable enough? Not good enough?”

“That’s not it,” you said, trying to keep your voice calm, trying to soothe the storm before it got worse. But he wasn’t having it.

“Then what is it?” he shot back, eyes blazing. “What, am I just here for show? I’m the guy who’s late sometimes, who doesn’t always have money, but I’m still here, aren’t I? I show up for you. I’m the one who takes care of you when things go wrong. But your mom gets the call?”

His words struck you with an intensity that left you reeling, each one echoing painfully in your mind. You wanted to fight back, to defend yourself, but guilt had already wrapped its hands around your throat, squeezing tight. He was right, and you both knew it.

“I just—” you began, but he cut you off.

“No, what am I supposed to think, huh? That you don’t trust me? That I’m not enough?”

You looked at him, the frustration and pain in his eyes, and something broke inside you. “Patrick, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t even think about it like that. It’s just... my mom’s always been there. It’s habit. It’s—”

“Habit,” he repeated bitterly, his face contorting. “Great. I’m not even a choice. I’m just not even in the equation.”

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, and for a second, he seemed to deflate, the fight going out of him.

He ran a hand over his face, letting out a long breath, the room falling into a tense quiet.

“It’s just…” His voice cracked a little. His eyes locked onto yours. “I’m hurt because you’re my emergency contact. I didn’t even think twice about it. I just assumed you’d do the same for me.”

His words lingered in the silence, filled with a sadness that created a distance between you neither of you could bridge. The quiet was stiff and uncomfortable, as if a single wrong word could tear everything apart. You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, but it stayed lodged there, trapping any apology you might have offered. His face, lined with quiet devastation, was harder to look at than any anger he could have shown.

You loved him, always had. But in that moment, staring at the hurt written so clearly on his face, it hit you—love wasn’t enough. You’d clung to the idea that it could carry you both, but now you knew it never would.

“I love you,” you said, hoping to break through the tension.

“It doesn’t feel like it right now,” he responded, his voice laced with sorrow.

[kentoxo]

can we have a gojo fic where his best friend is a girl, with a gung-ho personality, and she challenges him and makes him feel alive.

They kept their feelings for each other hidden so well for 10 years of their friendship since highschool.

a year of them not speaking, their friendship dissolved into nothing after a petty argument.

So when Satoru sees her walking in the bubbly way she always did at their highschool reunion, he pounces at her.

smutty, angsty, a bit heartwarming. have fun

OOO I like this! 100% gojo's kind of woman and honestly inspiration for his crackhead energy. Thank you anon for this req!

pairing: reader (f) x bestfriend!Gojo

synopsis: Gojo never imagined he'd ever see you again. You were the catalyst of his refined, carefree spirit. He yearned for you. And little did he know that you did for him as well.

warning: rated m for making out, fingering, eating out

a/n: I've been beside myself regarding whether I want this in the normal jjk world or a slice of life au. i think normal for more writing freedom

The first time Satoru Gojo saw you, it was during class intermission. Your high school was very kind and gave you all the teenager-equivalent to recess. They gave you the option to either hang out in the library, hit the gym, or lounge outside the back of the school.

Satoru was a simple teen, always choosing to go outside just to enjoy fresh hour for the hour you all had. He would sit right under the large willow tree at the backyard of the school, finding peace in the dancing of its branches and the shade it provided. But, it was routinely disturbed by Suguru Geto.

"Did you hear?" Suguru's steps lightly crunched the grass as he joined Satoru under the tree. Satoru had his eyes closed with his hands folded on his lap, embracing the final warmth of the summer before autumn truly took over. "Satoru?"

"I heard you," the white-haired wonder murmurs, "hear 'bout what?"

"The new girl that just transferred in," Suguru informs. Satoru didn't care much for rumormongering, but it was nice to have Suguru as a consistent informant on what goes on in their class. "Todays the first day, and she went ahead and challenged the leader of the wrestling team."

That's different. "Is that so," Satoru replies nonchalantly, his eyes still completely shut. "What a strange girl."

"She's quirky, but very beautiful," Suguru adds. "But she must be out of her mind to challenge a guy like that."

Satoru adjusts himself, crossing his arms behind his head. "If that's what she likes," Satoru couldn't care less. Suguru doesn't respond, and the two stay silent for a moment. But the silence was quickly interrupted when a crowd of students came out of the school, cheering and chanting emanating from them. "Hm?"

"I believe they're here for the fight," Suguru assumes. He scratches the back of his head, his forearm throwing his long, black hair to the side. "I'm guessing they're gonna wrestle in the sand pit there."

Satoru allowed one eye open to see the commotion. A crowd surfed through the backyard, with two students leading the pack. The first was a particularly muscly student, which could be safely assumed is the wrestling leader. But the next student beside him was you.

Suguru wasn't lying when he said you were quirky. No girl in their right mind would want to wrestle a guy with that stature. But he definitely wasn't lying when he said you were beautiful, too. The uniform hugged your body a little too well, but it was truly your face that caused Satoru to open both of his eyes.

Your expression was fierce with a shit-eating smile that Satoru couldn't help but become entranced with.

You radiated a sort of confidence that Satoru's never seen before. It could be due in part of the fact that Satoru wasn't a very social person. Despite being popular among your classmates, Suguru was the only friend he cared to have around.

The two friends watched, with Satoru being surprised at how eager he suddenly was. He leaned forward, his eyes glued at the sand pit where you and the boy stood, preparing for your tussle.

With another student as a mediator/referee, you listened closely to the rules and nodded. You smirked at your challenger, your heart practically tightening in excitement. "A clean fight, okay?" The referee repeats. "We don't want a teacher coming out and suspend us all."

Everyone laughed at the joke. "Lets get on with it, yeah?" Your opponent spewed. He was not amused one bit, considering his serious expression. "I don't like hurting girls."

You waive his concern, "don't worry, you won't."

He locked eyes with you, a glimmer of skepticism in his own. The referee stood between the two of you in the pit, his hand in the air to begin his count down. "3...2...1... Fight!" He shot his hand down and quickly escaped the sand pit.

The whole fight was a blur, but Satoru's jaw was on the floor when he witnessed the leader of the wrestling team on the ground, struggling to escape under your body. You had a toothy grin, your uniform completely scuffed with sand scratches ornate on your arms and legs.

Since that day, Satoru wanted to be known by you. You remember the boy coming up to you, his cheeks peachy and hands clammy when he introduced himself to you. Unlike all the other boys who found you intimidating, Satoru found you alluring. So, you pulled him into your own world.

"y/n, are you fucking insane?" Satoru's voice was shaky, nervous, all while still stable. The two of you stood on top of one of the biggest buildings in Japan. You have a knack for trespassing, and Satoru reluctantly followed your every move. Up until now, of course.

"Just a bit!" You glowed. You climbed up the abandoned crane on top of the building, your rough hands finding path in the bars and random equivalents of grips. "What's wrong, Satoru? You scarwed?" You teased with a baby voice.

You could see a teenage Satoru try to keep his cool, but quietly huffing and puffing when he thought you weren't looking. "it's dangerous, y/n," Satoru sounded distant behind you, his face going pale from how high you were at this point.

"It is dangerous, that's right," you yell back, your hands now gray from the accumulated dirt and dust. "But you'll never find excitement like this anywhere."

"Excitement or intense fear?" Satoru replied, his voice becoming a little louder. "I don't want anything to happen to you, y/n! Seriously!"

"Then come up here and guarantee it!" You muse. You make it to a comfortable spot to sit, turning around to look down at him. You felt the adrenaline bring you to the high you were seeking. You hands were rough and dirty, but your body felt strong and your heart was eager. You look down at the dashing boy below, "come keep me safe!"

"y/n, are you serious?" Satoru yells in dread. You nod aggressively with a wide smile. The tall boy stands there, his eyes distant with thought. You were humored from his trivial expression, his uncertainty fighting with his desire to live like you.

But you watched the nervous boy begin his trek towards you, his eyes never daring leaving the sky. You bounced joyously at his newfound bravery, causing him to emit nervous chuckles. Veins protrude his inner forearms, his breathing heavy from the effort and caution of his body. Once he was close enough, you happily offer your hand. His blue orbs held reticence, but your smile reassured him. His clammy hand meets yours, as you pull him up to the space beside you.

He creates a strong grip onto the crane, his fingers digging into the rusted metal. "are you happy?" Satoru murmurs.

"Aren't you?" You gush, nudging his shoulder gently. "Look over there." You point over at the city, and the clouds ornate between the buildings. The sun was setting, so the shadows of the skyscrapers were defined.

With a nervous gulp, Satoru looked down at the city, his bottom lip hung in awe. You watched as his nerves fade, and his hidden adrenaline finally coming forward. There was a shine in his eyes, and the way his white wisps of hair danced in the wind. A small smile pulled at the edges of his lips, and you swore to never forget the day that Satoru Gojo started his life.

Anyone with eyes could tell you that the two of you were meant to be together. A friendship transcending high school, the two of you were practically inseparable. Satoru would go find you during your work lunches, always swearing that he always gets a BOGO when in reality, he would buy you a separate lunch, opposite of the things he prefers to eat.

He was your adventure buddy, always down to follow your lead. Hiking the craziest mountains, parkouring on rooftops that you two were not meant to be at. He always had your back during paintball battles, your body rough but never shot out due to his diligent protection.

But the both of you were blind to one another's affection. The way Satoru grabs your hand whenever you two entered large crowds so he'd never lose you. The way you would fix Satoru's hair after every adventure, taking out the knots that has accrued, despite his grunts and groans. There are moments were he would just rub your hands, feeling the callouses collected since your younger years.

And you watched him grow, his confidence uncontainable. The quiet boy from high school was now a man full of vigor and ambition. Satoru has taken to exercise, his body beyond prepared for your adventures together. You couldn't help but stare at his muscles, the way his calves pulsated whenever he was reaching something high in the cabinets of your kitchen. Or the way his biceps flexed when carrying your groceries for you to the car. You could stare at him forever if you could.

Of course, until the day you couldn't stand to look at him.

"You can't be serious," you spat quietly. "When has there ever been a time where I've asked someone else before you?"

"Don't start," Satoru hums, "I asked her because someone said they'd be going on a work trip that weekend." He was sat on your couch, book in hand as you were fixing up the kitchen a bit.

You hung your head forward slightly, "and? You could still ask, 'Toru."

"If I asked you, you'd refuse to go on your work trip and just come with me to this skiing trip." This would be the very first time that Satoru goes on a fun trip like this without you. And he knows better than to ask anyone else.

"I'm an adult Satoru, I can make my own decisions," you hiss, "but instead, you've taken it upon yourself to decide for me." You begin to angrily organize your kitchen counter.

"Because I know how you are, y/n," Satoru begins, his soft tone begin to ramp up. "You'll want to go regardless of your work obligations. I'm sorry, but I can't let you be so careless."

"So why go without me anyways?" You ask, a bit of hurt in your words. "We go on these trips together, always. Why can't we then just coordinate this trip another time?"

Satoru closed his book and looked over at you, "the northern lights can be seen from Mt. Fuji this year. As much as I'd love to see them with you, you need to be more responsible and work. In turn, I don't want to miss this chance because you don't want me to go without you. It's a bit selfish, no?"

"Selfish?" The word left your tongue in distaste. "Me? You wouldn't have even wanted to do this if it weren't for me!"

"Quite bold of you for taking all the credit," Satoru lashes, his sunglasses sliding down to the tip of his nose. "I was eventually going to break from my shell-- you just kickstarted it early."

You eyes widen, narrowing down in appall from Satoru's words. The man that you watched grow up, that you helped grow up, was reducing your influence to a 'kickstart.' All of the solace that emanated from Satoru Gojo began to evaporate. "Leave," you muttered painfully.

This caught his attention, and Satoru took off his glasses. Blue eyes analyze your hurt expression, his eyes uncertain and almost... in disbelief? "y/n, you're being so dramatic. Seriously, it's not a big deal."

"To you, sure," you look away from him. You could feel your cheeks warm from the coming of tears. "Just leave, Satoru."

Satoru didn't hesitate, and rose from your couch, "you're being serious?" You don't look his way at all. Rolling his eyes, Satoru begins to grab his book and phone. "Whatever. So sorry for trying to be a good friend."

"Fuck off, Satoru," you spat.

"Yeah yeah, I'm fucking off," Satoru doesn't even hug you goodbye before he slams the door behind him. Neither of you realize it then, but that would be the last time you two saw each other, and exchanged words. Both of your prides did enough damage to eviscerate a friendship that you have loved for a long time. You cried that whole night, and the many weeks that followed.

"Shoko, is my dress okay?" You shyly pull down at the incredibly short red-dress you decided to model. Although it hugged you kindly (a little too much), it stopped just right under your ass. "I feel like if I bend over, I'll show everyone Earth's second moon."

Shoko, in a navy blue tube dress, chuckles between her cigarette pulls, "you look extremely sexy, if that's what you're asking."

"It isn't too much for this reunion?" You ignored her compliment.

Shoko shakes her head, "it's perfect."

Unknowingly to you, Satoru was already inside. His toned body was enhanced by a skin-tight, black turtleneck and black dress pants. His hair grew just a bit, tying it up in a ponytail as it would only make his tangling situation worse. He had red shades on, and a smile that could light up the universe. With a martini in hand, he was sharing laughs with all of your classmates from ages ago.

As he goes to take another swig of his drink, he almost chokes from the sight of you entering the school gym.

You entered in, no hint of shyness anywhere, despite your skimpy outfit. Many of your classmates were in awe, as the whole gym turned their attention to you. With infectious energy, you rush over with open arms to see the people you used to study with. His eyes drowned at the sight of you, your bubbly cheeks, your warm embraces to everyone who met your gaze. Even your laugh came back to his head, repeating itself like a metronome.

Satoru downs his drink, and makes his way towards you. Alcohol, combined with adrenaline, made Satoru move faster than he ever has. So swiftly, you even felt the breeze before his presence was known to you. Your eyes widen at the tall man with the white, wispy hair. His shadow, along with his gaze, swallows you whole.

You two could only stare at one another, having been a year since you've shared the same space. His hair, you thought. He was a little taller, his jaw slightly sharper. He smelled of cinnamon and hinoki wood. But his eyes... they didn't look quite like you remembered. They were dark and hollow. They appeared, in a word, empty.

Before you could begin the conversation, Satoru pulls you into his arms. A calmness washes over you, your tense body letting go. He held you just a bit tight, feeling as though your soul could fuse with his at any moment. He's so warm, you swooned in thought. Leaning down to your ear, he pulls a strand of your hair back and whispers, "can we talk somewhere?"

You silently nod, allowing for Satoru to hold you by your hand and guide you from the gym. You knew all eyes were on the both of you, considering that you two hadn't spoken for a year since your fall out. You didn't know what to expect, but you followed him obediently into one of the classrooms, a little far from the gym. He ushers you in, turning on the lights before pulling down the blinds of the classroom door window. The official windows of the classrooms were already shut, leaving the both of you completely isolated.

You slowly walk over to your old desk, remembering it was yours from the distinct, scratched in lily that was clearly never fixed. You turn around and take a seat on top of the desk, looking up and waiting for Satoru. But Satoru could only stare at you from a distance, unable to accept that you were here in front of him.

"Um," your voice sounds quietly, "long time no see, Sato--" before you could even finish, Satoru aggressively pushes the desks you carefully walked around and found his way to you. He grabs your cheeks in his large, rough hands and brings your face to his own. Lips collided, your nails digging frantically into the under of your desk. "mm--!"

An eager tongue slides between your lips, the taste of dry alcohol and lime intoxicating your own. He kissed you feverishly, his lips delicately chapped in the center. He closed the gap between the two of you, his toned abs pressing against your breasts. You then abandon the desk, ands latching themselves to the back of his shirt.

"'toru,--" you try between kisses and breaths, but Satoru was hungry. The way his tongue lapped around yours, the gentle pulls of your bottom lip between his teeth. Your hands snake to his firm chest, gently pushing him away without seeming disinterested. You look at him, trying to read his expression.

He was panting, but for the first time in your life, he was blushing. The empty eyes that briefly scared you were now lit up, just the way you remembered. His lips shined with your saliva, slightly agape to catch increments of air. "y/n," Satoru whispers.

"Satoru," you say with a firmer tone. You bring a hand up, fingers lightly rubbing your recently conquered lips. But his eyes wouldn't leave your gaze, causing your heart to lead a stampede. You realized you weren't ready to talk just yet. You pulled his shirt and brought him back to you, his face following suit, with lips rejoicing.

Satoru's hand curiously dragged its fingertips down your dress, finding its way to your thigh. He pauses, eyes opening to meet yours. Silent consent. You give yourself a few moments before nodding, allowing him to continue.

Butterflies delightfully tormented your stomach, as long, lanky fingers separate your thighs. They were cold, but your skin warmed them up as he found his way to your flower. You could feel his moans against your lips, his fingers curiously making its way between your homely folds. You perk up when your precum primes his fingers towards your cunt. They delicately filled you, three fingers finding solace in your warm, wet walls.

His lips leave yours, allowing for your moans and curses to escape. "ah--ah, s-satoru...!" His eyes widen at your sensual sounds. His breath hitched at the sound of his name from your mouth, your voice. This fueled Satoru, as he begins to finger fuck you more aggressively. The sound of your cum pierced the room as his fingers filled you up, and pulled out every other second. Your hands grip desperately at the hem of his shirt while you buried your face between his pecs.

"say my name again," Satoru demands in a whisper. "i've missed your voice so much, y/n. please, please keep saying it."

You blush, your eyes focused on the ever-growing bulge in his hands. It was just inches away from you, your mouth salivating at the thought of him. "s-satoru, satoru, f-fuck...!" He curled his fingers inside you, teasing your g-spot while also keeping the quick, steady pace of fucking your cunt. Your ears were heating up, your hands tightening their grip. "i'm... i'm...!" you could barely get your words out.

But Satoru knew exactly what you meant, a sinister smile playing at his lips. "perfect," he murmurs, completely removing his hand from your spot. You let out a disappointing sigh, but it is quickly waived when he suddenly holds your thighs, pulls your forward, and has your back on the desk. You look down, only for your head to writhe back in pleasure.

Pulling your panties down to your ankles, Satoru's lips introduce themselves to your pussy, his tongue lapping your folds. You could feel him dragging his tongue up to your clit, the tip circling around the sensitive bud. Your body writhes, with your hands desperately clinging onto his white wisps. His relentless sucking, hot breaths, and sporadic tongue work your pussy into an orgasm, your entire body tense and twitching.

Heavy breathes decorate the room, as Satoru takes out a handkerchief from his pocket and offers it to you. Your cheeks were a plum hue, but Satoru's face was completely beet red. You could feel his gaze on you as you got on your feet (weakly) and fix yourself up. He quickly gets on his knees, and pulls up your panties for you.

"Thank you very much," you quietly croak between breaths. But you noticed him not rising, with his head hung low. "Satoru? You can stand up no--"

"Y/N, I was wrong." His sharp admittance made you bite your tongue. You look down at him, unsure what to do. "I should have asked you first if you wanted to come with me. I should have never decided for you."

"Ah, Satoru, please--"

"No, I was wrong, and I regret it so, so much," his voice was shaky. "You didn't just kickstart it-- you were the reason that I needed to come out of my shell. And really, you were the reason why coming out of my shell was worth it."

You bring your hand down to his head, which makes him lower his head a bit more. "Satoru, take it easy, please..."

"I didn't enjoy myself at all-- I couldn't!" He exclaimed. "You bring me to life, and I didn't realize it until I saw those lights and didn't feel what I thought I would feel. The feeling I expected, I now realize, was because it was you I wanted to share that experience with."

You smile down at him, giggling to yourself a bit. "We were both wrong," you cooed. "Now please stand up. I don't want this to become a crying fest after you just ate me out."

Satoru looks up at you with watery eyes and a sheepish smile. His lips were still shining from your cum, and you couldn't help but get redder. As he got up and dusted his knees, he looked over at you with a smirk, "aren't you going to explain why you were also wrong?"

You looked up pensively before shaking your head, "nope!"

"Of course not," Satoru chuckles, his hands snaking around your waist, "now come here."

[gay-dorito-dust]

can I request jealous Wednesday x fem reader? Wednesday gets jealous of Xavier and the reader so she's more passive aggressive than usual and has the urge to pull pranks on Xavier. But when Wednesday sees reader and Xavier painting the reader chases after her

Summary: Wednesday is reluctant to accept that she’s jealous of your friendship with Xavier until it all comes ahead.

A/n: Also due to the fact of how fucking long I made this fic, I had to relegate pranks (plural) to a singular prank. I rambled a little bit ngl.

Wednesday hated the gut feeling she’d get whenever she saw you and Xavier within extreme close proximity of one another; As though you were trying to fuse into one being with how pressed against one another you were. It felt like she had a stone stuck in her stomach that refused to dissolve and was starting to cause external as well as internal issues the longer it went unresolved. Normally Wednesday viewed herself above expressing emotions should they not provide beneficial results to her in the long run for the remainder of her stay at Nevermore, or everyday life in general.

However it seemed to Wednesday that you were the peculiar exception to this golden rule she had lived by since the passing of her pet scorpion. She felt fluttery in her chest whenever you laughed, her clothed skin burned with the remnants of your accidental touches and she felt most anticipating when she made plans with you after classes. You’ve managed to brought fourth emotions Wednesday long thought she had killed in order of bettering herself whether you were aware of your effect or not.

She hated it, she hated not being in control of her emotions and by that logic, Wednesday should hate you for being the reason for her lack of self control but she didn’t. Instead she directed all her hatred towards Xavier to the point that castration was a considered punishment but knowing how Nevermore operates; Wednesday knew that short of thing would’ve be allowed to fly without repercussions. ‘A pity really,’ she thought to herself as she maintained eye contact with the back of Xavier’s head as he playfully nudged you with his shoulder, ‘a shame even.’

Enid wished she could see the inner workings of Wednesday’s head but with how brutally she was stabbing the lunch table with her blunt knife, she quickly changed her mind in fear of that knife being directed at her next. “Wednesday, remember what we talked about when we get urge to stab something.” Enid spoke hesitantly as she tried to safely remove the knife away from Wednesday’s hand. When it was brought down harder then the previous times, blade lodged deeply within the table that once Wednesday lets go of the handle, the knife however remained standing straight up. Her eyes never departing from you nor Xavier as they blazed with silent fury. “Keep stabbing until it stops moving.” She replied blankly before standing up.

“Hey! Wednesday! Where are you going-“ Enid tried calling out to her friend when her words got caught up in her throat when her eyes followed the direction she was heading; You and Xavier. “Oh no.” Enid whispered as she rushed after Wednesday in hope of preventing someone’s (read: Xavier’s) death. “I do not want to be caught in the midst of a murder today, I just got these clothes recently and blood would not go well with them.” She rambled under her breath as nervousness got the better of her when she finally managed to catch up with Wednesday who was looking straight at you.

“Y/n.”

“Oh shit.” you almost jumped out of your chair at the sudden voice beside you had Xavier not caught you by the shoulders to stabilise you. Giving the boy your thanks you looked to your side of the table to see Wednesday and Enid standing there. “Hey Wednesday! Hey Enid, what’s up? Me and Xavier here were just-“ “I need you to come over to my-“ “our” Enid interrupted, flashing a smile when Wednesday looked at her with almost murderous intent before bringing her attention back to you. “Our dorm,” she shot enid a glare, “to look over some studies that were assigned to us last period.”

“We did?” You questioned as you, Xavier and Enid share a look of confusion as all four of you had last period together and to your recollection, there was no tasked assignment. So either you had shit memory or something else was at hand here that you were oblivious towards. Xavier shrugged his shoulders, “beats me and I tend to pay attention in my classes.” You shoved him by the shoulder as you laughed, “you fucking liar, no you don’t you always end up copying my notes or worse!” Xavier chuckled, extending his hand to pat your sympathetically on the shoulder.

“I make it up to you don’t I?” He asked innocently, making you scoff as you swat away his hand. before bringing his attention to Wednesday who by now has her jaw so tightly clenched behind a deadpan face that she swore she felt some teeth crack under the pressure she was putting them under. “Are you sure we got an assessment Wednesday? Me and y/n here have made plans to go beyond and explore the realms of possibilities of which through art later tonight.” Xavier iterated the last part in a tone he knew would get to you, in the end you couldn’t help but snort as you smacked his shoulder. “Stop talking like that, I’ll think I’ll piss myself.” You croaked through your laughter as you leant against Xavier for support.

“Too much information y/n,” Xavier grimaced but he sucked at keeping it up as his lips cracked into a bigger smile, “just too much information.” Whilst you both were distracted with your laughter, Enid could see that Wednesday was gesturing for something lurking under your table with her head and when she went to angled herself better to see what it was and to her surprise; Thing could be seen unlacing Xavier’s shoelaces before tying them back together again in a fashion that would have him take a personal greeting with the floor before scampering off back to where he came.

Now Enid never pegged Wednesday as the prankster type, considering the fact that she had told her time and time again that she was above such childish shenanigans. Yet here she was, having Thing pull pranks on her behalf all because she was jealous. “You’re right,” Wednesday uncharacteristically admitted, “must’ve got my dates incorrect, how foolish of me.” She then shrugs but before she leaves your table; Wednesday looked back over her shoulder, “Xavier.” She said. “Yeah?” He replied, albeit confused. “Watch your step.” Was all she said before walking away, leaving Enid to hastily bid you both goodbye as she rushed to catching up to her before mouthing something neither of you could decipher.

“What did she meant by that?” Xavier asked as he looked at you, watching the back of Wednesday’s head as she faded from view. “No idea but hearing that come from her? It’s probably not a good thing.” You admitted, sensing that something was off with Wednesday but you knew better then to openly confront a hostile animal. She wouldn’t budge an inch. So you decided that it would be best to let her work through whatever it was that she was going through in her own time. “Well that’s real reassuring.” Xavier said glumly before slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“We better get going before we’re late to herbology class.” He adds as he goes to stand up but as he attempts to move out from his seat; Xavier notices a little too late that his shoes were mysteriously tied together, causing him to trip over himself and fall flat on the floor with a yelp. “Oh my god, Xavier are you alright!” You exclaimed as you scrambled to help him up off of the floor, dusting him down of any dirt that might’ve lingered. “I understood what she meant by that now.” Xavier grimaced in pain. You both ended up being late for class by a couple of minutes due to Xavier stopping to unlace his shoes and tying them back up properly before practically sprinting across Nevermore towards your next lesson.

The next time Wednesday walked in on you and Xavier bonding, it wasn’t until nightfall that she came across the sound of laughter filling the air, growing louder and louder the closer she got to the abandoned shed Xavier had tricked out into an art studio. Her blood still boiled with how at ease Xavier seemed whenever he got physical with you and how you never seem to bask in his affection. She despised her Achilles heel which was you and the illogical thoughts you brought up within her head, causing her to loose rational train of thought and sleep as she now wandered the school grounds late at night in hopes for sleep to greet her. However Wednesday found herself stood outside the shed where she could hear yours and Xavier’s conversation loud and clear.

“You messy pup! Your getting paint on everything except the canvas!” Xavier exclaimed though it was in good nature considering how quick he was to laugh. “We’ll maybe if I had more to go on then the bullshit excuse of ‘painting with my heart.’ Then I wouldn’t be such a messy pup then would I?” You replied, reduced to a laughing fit of your own. It was obvious to Wednesday that you were both having fun, so much fun in fact that she believed that she was the last thing on your mind. You rarely visited her and Enid in their dorm anymore, too busy having Xavier occupying your time. Seemingly possessed by the betrayal she was feeling in that moment, Wednesday forcefully opened the door in time to see Xavier stand a breaths width away from you, holding your face in his hands as his thumb rubs away at some remnants of paint.

His gaze seemed a little too intense for Wednesday’s liking as she took into account of the way he looked at you that same exact way she caught herself looking at you; as though you’ve painted the night sky of which you hung the stars from. Your eyes darted to hers as they widened at the realisation of how this looked to other people but before you could open your mouth to say anything. Wednesday had already slammed the door shut behind her as she left. Xavier knew there was something between you and Wednesday and he wanted to help you in expressing your feelings in a way that didn’t suffocate Wednesday. However it seemed that she might’ve misunderstood this as him making a move on you which couldn’t be further from the truth. “Go after her.” Xavier said, stepping away from you.

“She won’t believe me-“ “well then try to make her believe you.” Xavier stopped you before you could admit defeat. “You like this girl don’t you?” He asked, “of course I do Xavier, I like her very, very much.” You admitted, feeling the tears of frustration well up in the corner of your eyes. Xavier smiled softly as he cross the room to open the door, “Then go get her, tiger.” He urges as he gestured towards the silhouette of Wednesday that was slowly fading away from view the further and further away she got. You smiled at Xander, “thank you.” You said to him before bolting out of the art studio and after Wednesday as fast as your legs could carry you.

“You got this!” You heard Xavier exclaim from behind which only pushed you even further forward as you darted past trees, bushes, the archery range until you could vaguely make out Wednesday making her way to the front of the building that lead up to her dorm in Ophelia Hall. “Wednesday!” You called, uncaring of who you woke up in the process, the only thing that mattered to you was setting things straight. “Wednesday wait, I need to talk to you!” You saw Wednesday stop at the doors and you almost felt like collapsing when you finally caught up to her, leaving heavily on the door as you struggled to filling your lungs with the sufficient amount of oxygen.

“What do you want.” Wednesday snapped. She hadn’t meant to stop but something within her told her that she’d be better off hearing you out. “I’m going to cut the bullshit and get to the point,” you said through gasps, coughing briefly before taking a deep breath, “I like you Wednesday Addams. I like you a lot, I’ve been meaning to find ways of telling you how I feel that wouldn’t overwhelm you or make you uncomfortable. So I’ve taken to asking Xavier for advice because he’s and artist and shit as you know.” Wednesday felt a familiar fluttering in her chest as you continued to explain yourself when all she really cared enough to hear was that you liked her and only did what you did as to not force her out of her comfort zone for you.

So instead of letting you continue your long winded explanation, Wednesday merely grabbed ahold of your shirt, pulling you into her lips as she gave you a chaste kiss before shoving you away slightly. Your wide eyed expression had a smile creep up on Wednesday’s face as she quickly composed herself. “I like you too,” she headed you silently cheer to yourself, “however you can start repaying me for sacrificing our time together by joining me on the astrology tower tomorrow night.” Your eyes widened and your smile stretched across your face. “Like a date, a date date?” Wednesday couldn’t help but scoff at your choice of words before replying, “yes, like a date date.”

[wholoveseggs]

Hey lovely, today request from me🥰

I got struck on an idea where reader tried to dominate Elijah but always fail so, she get Klaus help with some magical witchy rope or something to subdue him, which was successful.

Tho here's the thing, reader is inexperienced in doing something like that and not prepped enough to take him, cuz y'know Elijah is big.. hehehe😌🤭so she started tear up, and ask for his help. Elijah being a smug he is punish her happily after...can you added a sprinkle of daddy kink and overstimulation, pretty puh-lease with the cherry on top🙏🥺

Oh btw your story always superb 🤩 😁

Bindings

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

You ask Davina for help with creating something to tie up Elijah... only for you to get in way over your head. Luckily, he is in a forgiving mood.

♡♡ Thanks for the request anon! I decided to change it from Klaus to Davina, because I just can't see Klaus being okay with you essentially making a weapon against his family... Even if the reason behind it is just for some kinky fun ♡♡

4.9k words - Warnings: smut, *magical* bondage, dom!elijah, daddy!kink, spanking, choking, sex toys and a whole lotta praise...

You sat in Davina's greenhouse, looking around at all the various plants and flowers the young witch had collected. You had asked Davina to meet up with you to help with a problem, one that was a bit awkward to even say out loud, but you knew that she of all people would understand.

You watched her browse through her books, trying to find the spell you had requested. After a few moments, Davina had found the page and started gathering the items needed.

"Davina?" you said.

She looked up from the table and gave you a curious look. "Yeah?"

"You don't think this is a little crazy? I mean, it's a bit of a long shot."

Davina smiled. "Not at all. I may have.... tried it myself... with Kol," she replied, looking away with a light blush.

Your eyes went wide. "Oh, my God. It worked?"

She shrugged trying to appear cool, but her mischievous grin gave away her answer. You smiled back and the two of you quickly dissolved into a fit of giggles.

After the laughter had calmed down, you looked at her questioningly. "So, how does it work?"

Davina took a seat on the couch next to you and showed you the spell she had found.

"The basic binding is actually quite simple, it's the ingredients that are tricky," she explained, "luckily I have white oak ash, and the rest should be easy to find."

You nodded and listened intently as Davina read through the list of ingredients and their uses. She began by grinding the herbs and mixing them in a bowl, followed by the white oak ash.

Once the mixture was complete, Davina took a long silk rope that you had provided and dipped it in the bowl. She held the rope above the bowl, letting the excess liquid drip off as she chanted the incantation.

"Done," Davina announced, handing you the now-dry rope. "It will keep him bound and unable to break free. You can use it any way you'd like." She grinned, giving you a knowing look.

You couldn't believe how easy it had been, that you were so close to fulfilling a long-held fantasy of yours. "Thank you, Davina. You're the best," you said, pulling her into a hug.

She hugged you back, giggling as she pulled away. "One more thing, if you need to break the spell, just say 'confractus' and it will untie itself,"

You nodded, thanking her again before making your way home, the rope clutched tightly in your hand.

It was the most expensive piece of clothing you had ever purchased. It wasn't even something you could wear outside your bedroom, but damn, did it make you feel sexy.

The lingerie was a red, sheer babydoll dress with black lace trim, and it was paired with a matching thong and stockings. You had never worn anything so revealing before, but you knew Elijah would like it, and that was all that mattered.

You wanted to get him all worked up, break down the gentleman facade, make him want you so badly that he would do whatever you asked. You had been waiting for the right moment to try the rope Davina had created, and you were certain that tonight was the night.

You pulled a robe over your outfit, concealing it until the right moment. Then you sat back on your bed and texted Elijah.

"Are you free tonight?"

A few moments later, your phone vibrated.

"For you, always."

You grinned and quickly replied, "Come over."

He sent a thumbs up, and you tossed your phone aside, your nerves kept you from sitting still, and you spent the next ten minutes pacing anxiously around the room. When you finally heard a knock on the door, you jumped, startled by the sound. You took a deep breath and walked to the front of your apartment.

When you opened the door, you were greeted by a sight that made your mouth water. Elijah was dressed casually, in just a t-shirt and jeans, it was a rare sight, and one that had you practically drooling.

You stood there in silence for a moment, taking in the sight of him, until he cleared his throat and asked, "Can I come in?"

"Yes, sorry. Come in." You stepped aside, gesturing for him to enter.

As soon as he crossed the threshold, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. You let yourself melt into him, enjoying the feeling of his arms wrapped around you.

"What's this for?" You asked, teasingly tugging on his t-shirt, your hands roaming across his broad chest. "Has your dry-cleaner gone and quit on you?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "I figured we would just have a quiet night in. No need for the formalities."

You nodded, your hands traveling down to his waist. You felt his body tense slightly when your fingers began to dance along the bare skin under the hem of his shirt.

"Well, I have a surprise for you," you said, looking up at him with a mischievous smile.

He raised an eyebrow and gave you a curious look. "A surprise? Well, now I'm intrigued."

You laughed and grabbed his hand, leading him to your bedroom. Once inside, you turned and faced him, taking a deep breath before you began to untie your robe. But then you stopped, looking at him with a naughty smirk.

"Take off your shirt," you ordered, your voice suddenly more confident.

He looked surprised by your words, but quickly obliged, pulling the t-shirt over his head and tossing it aside.

"Hmmm," you smiled as your eyes traveled down his body, appreciating his toned abs and muscular arms, lingering on where a trail of dark hair disappeared into his jeans. "Now the pants."

You watched as his hands moved to unbutton his jeans. He kept his gaze locked on you, his dark eyes filled with lust. Once the pants were undone, he slowly pushed them down, revealing his black boxer briefs and the outline of his half-hard cock.

Your mouth watered at the sight, but you knew this was just the beginning. As much as you wanted to rip his clothes off and fuck him senseless, you had a plan, and you were determined to stick to it.

"Get on the bed," you commanded, gesturing to the large mattress behind him.

He climbed onto the bed, sitting back against the pillows and watching you with curiosity. You untied the belt of your robe and let it fall open, revealing the sheer lingerie underneath.

Elijah's jaw dropped, his eyes widening as they traveled over your body.

"Do you like it?" You asked, teasingly running a finger along the edge of the lace trim.

He nodded, unable to speak, his cock already fully hard and straining against his underwear.

"Good, because I want you to do something for me," you said, your voice low and husky.

He nodded again, his gaze fixed on you.

"Take off your underwear and stroke your cock."

You watched him pull his boxer briefs down and wrap his large hand around his thick shaft, slowly stroking himself.

The sight of him pleasuring himself made your own arousal grow. You let your robe drop to the floor and climbed onto the bed, straddling his thighs.

He groaned, his eyes never leaving your body as he continued stroking his cock.

"Darling, you are a vision," he breathed, his voice deep and raspy with desire.

You felt heat pooling between your legs, your nipples hardening beneath the thin fabric of your lingerie.

You leaned in and kissed him, your tongues battling for dominance as you moaned into his mouth. His other hand came up to grab your ass, pulling you closer.

He was breathing heavily, his eyes dark with lust.

"Touch yourself," he growled, his lips brushing against yours.

"No," you smirked, "I have something else in mind."

You reached over and picked up the rope, which you had placed within reach on the nightstand. You watched his eyes widen, his hand stopping its movements as he stared at the rope.

"Do you want me to tie you up?" He grinned, his hand starting to stroke his cock again.

"I have something else in mind," you repeated.

Elijah raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued.

"Hands up," you commanded, leaning back slightly to give him space.

He paused for a moment before lifting his arms above his head, resting them on the pillow behind him.

You brought the rope over his wrists, looping it around and tying them together. He chuckled, his eyes darkening as he realized what you were doing.

"I never took you for a bondage girl, darling."

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me," you replied, your tone playful as you pulled the rope tighter.

"Unfortunately I don't think this silk rope will hold me," he said, smirking as he tugged at the restraints.

You ignored him, continuing to tie his wrists to the headboard. Once you were satisfied with the knots, you sat back and admired your work, enjoying the way he looked helpless and at your mercy.

"Oh yeah?" You questioned, trailing a finger down his chest and abs, watching him shiver.

You slowly shrugged off one of the straps of your babydoll, letting the top slide down, exposing one breast.

His eyes fixated on your bare chest, his tongue darting out to lick his lips.

"Mmmm," you hummed, rolling the hard bud between your fingers, teasing him. Then you did the same with the other strap, pushing the top down until your breasts were completely exposed.

Elijah let out a low moan, his cock twitching against his stomach.

"God, you're so fucking beautiful," he growled, his eyes burning with desire.

"Do you want to touch them daddy?" You cooed, running your hands up and down your breasts.

"Yes," he hissed, his hips bucking up involuntarily.

"Go ahead, tear the rope and touch me."

"Gladly."

He tugged at the rope, once, twice, three times. It didn't budge, much to his surprise.

"How the..." he started to say, looking up at the knotted rope.

"It's just a bit of magic," you smirked, your confidence growing as you watched him struggle.

You knew the ropes wouldn't hold him forever, but you planned on making the most of the time they did.

"Now, where were we?" You leaned forward, bringing your breasts close to his face.

He craned his neck up, trying to capture one of your nipples with his mouth, but you pulled away, denying him.

"Uh uh," you scolded, "You can look, but no touching."

You moved forward again, brushing your breast against his lips. He eagerly opened his mouth, trying to suck on the hardened peak, but you kept it just out of reach.

"I will be free soon enough, little one," he growled, his eyes locking onto yours, "and when I am, you're going to be punished for teasing me."

His words sent a thrill through you, but you remained calm, refusing to show him any signs of weakness.

"Oh yeah? What are you going to do, daddy?" You asked, taunting him as you rolled your hips, your wetness coating his skin.

He groaned at the sensation, his dark, lust-filled eyes watched as you began to touch his body, teasing and tormenting him.

You raked your nails down his chest and abs, earning a hiss of pleasure. You licked a hot stripe up his neck, biting his earlobe before moving to his lips. You kissed him roughly, your teeth grazing his lower lip, and he moaned, deepening the kiss.

Your hand went to his cock, stroking it slowly as he tried to buck his hips into your touch. You pulled back, smirking at him.

"You're not going to come until I say you can, understood?"

"Yes, my dear," he breathed, his eyes closing in pleasure as you tightened your grip on his shaft.

"Good boy."

You kissed him again, your tongues dancing together as you pumped his cock. He moaned into your mouth, his hips thrusting upwards, desperate for release.

You broke the kiss, looking down at him with a smirk. You couldn't wait any longer, you had to have him.

You positioned yourself over his throbbing member, lining him up with your entrance. You felt a flash of nervousness, not knowing how well you would be able to take him, but the excitement overrode the anxiety.

You lowered yourself down slowly, his thick cock stretching you open, filling you inch by inch.

"Fuck, Elijah," you moaned, burying your face into the crook of his neck, the feeling of him buried so deep, making your legs shake.

He hummed, his biceps straining against the rope as he struggled to break free. You placed your hands on his chest, using him as leverage as you began to ride him.

You knew right away that you were in trouble. Usually Elijah would take the lead, getting you all wet and worked up, he always took his time, and the pleasure he brought was slow and delicious.

But this, being on top and having all the control, was something you hadn't experienced before. It was intense, and you weren't sure if you could handle it.

Your thighs were burning as you lifted yourself up and down, but you were determined to keep going. Your eyes met his and the sight of his pupils blown wide with desire was enough encouragement for you to continue.

You rode him faster, your breath coming in short gasps. You were getting close, so close, but it was somehow all too much and not enough. You didn't think it would be this much work, and you could feel your energy waning.

It was a terrible feeling, finally getting what you wanted and being disappointed by it. You had been so confident, but now your thighs were burning and you were struggling to keep up a steady rhythm.

You looked at the ropes, seeing that they were still secure. There was no way you would be able to finish this yourself. You were going to need help.

"Eli," you whimpered, your nails digging into his chest.

"Yes, my dear," he groaned.

"I-I'm not sure... If I can keep going," you admitted, panting as you struggled to continue, a frustrated tear rolling down your cheek.

"Well, I'm still quite enjoying myself. You look absolutely exquisite like this," he teased, his eyes roaming your body.

"Elijah," you whined, "please. I-I can't."

He gave you a knowing smirk. "If you can't keep up, maybe I should be the one in charge."

"Please," you begged, your face flushing as the humiliation of being denied what you wanted so badly washed over you.

"You created this problem for yourself, little one," he reminded, "but luckily, I'm in a giving mood."

You nodded, grateful that he was willing to help you, even if he did enjoy teasing you about it. You reached up and undid the knots, releasing his hands from their restraints.

As soon as his hands were free, Elijah gripped your hips, flipping you over so he was on top. You yelped in surprise, the sudden change in position leaving you breathless.

"You are such a good girl," he praised, his voice husky with desire. "So eager to please."

He kissed you hungrily, his hands exploring your body, his fingers tugging at the hem of your lingerie.

"And this," he murmured against your lips, "is very pretty. But I'm afraid I'm going to have to tear it."

Before you could protest, he ripped the babydoll in half, exposing your entire body to him. He tossed the torn fabric aside, his dark eyes roaming your naked form.

"But it was expensive," you half-protested, even though you were throbbing at the gesture of dominance and disregard.

He growled and pinched your nipple, earning a sharp gasp, then he soothed it with a swirl of his tongue, a wicked glint in his eyes.

"How much did that little magical rope cost you?"

You shuddered, already realizing this was the price you had to pay. You knew he would punish you for this stunt and it turned you on more.

"N-nothing, it was a favor from a friend," you muttered.

He didn't like the vagueness of your answer and took the rope and tied it around your wrists as he started kissing you again, your tongue clashing with his, while his large hand roamed your body, tweaking your nipples, earning a soft moan, and then traveling down south, running his fingertips along your skin, teasing and tickling you softly.

"You are going to do exactly as I say now, understood?" he mumbled against your skin.

"Y-Yes, Daddy," you whined, already desperately bucking against his hand.

Elijah released you, flipping you onto your stomach and dragging you to the head of the bed, tying the rope to the headboard so your arms are stretched high over your head. You were on your knees, and completely under his power.

You heard him rummaging around in his dresser and your heart began beating quickly from nervousness and excitement.

He kissed the back of your neck, the heat of his body warming you, and causing goosebumps to cover your skin. The smell of his cologne wrapped around you and you instinctively arched into his embrace.

"My sweet pet, are you ready to be punished?" he asked as he held one of his ties in front of your face, "Do you have a safe word?"

Your mind raced as he put the tie over your eyes. You quickly selected a word, just in case you needed it, though you sincerely doubted that would happen. Even when he was dominant like this, he always put your pleasure first, but you wanted him to believe you were scared.

"Coffee."

"Excellent," he replied as the smooth fabric was tied tightly around your head.

You tried to lean forward but couldn't move an inch with the rope around your wrists. This rope has successfully restrained Elijah, there was no way you were getting free until he cut you loose.

"I must say… that magic rope is quite a dangerous weapon, a threat to my family." He whispered against your ear, a hint of danger in his voice, sending an excited tingle through you.

You suddenly felt his strong hand wrap tightly around your neck. He wasn't squeezing yet but he was definitely letting you know who's in charge.

"You and I both know how I handle threats to my family," he said, pressing a kiss against your neck.

A moan escaped your lips and you could hear him chuckle. You were so wound up, you weren't sure how long you could take this.

"Stay quiet," Elijah commanded.

As if in punishment, he withdrew his hand from your throat, and you almost immediately missed the feeling of his warm hand against you. A sudden slap to your ass made your body jolt.

It burned from the force of it, his large, powerful palm practically covering your entire cheek. Every sensation was heightened by the tie around your eyes and you felt your whole body heating up, your blood rushing in anticipation of what was to come.

He hit you again, on the same cheek, harder than the last time. The sound of his hand hitting your flesh seemed to fill the room. Tears pooled in your covered eyes, the burning sensation making your body hum in pleasure, mixed with a bit of pain.

You weren't sure if you could handle one more of his heavy-handed swats. Your arms hurt from being pulled high above your head, and your wrists were already chafing.

You heard him reach into your night stand, searching for something that would bring you a different kind of pain. He found what he was looking for, trailing it down your spine. It was cold and smooth, and it made your stomach drop when you realized what it was.

"Eli- wait," you protested, none of this night was going to plan, but this? You had fantasized about it, sure, but this was-

Your mind went blank when he pushed it inside you, and without mercy, he switched it on. It buzzed to life and the sudden onslaught of the vibrations made your legs shake uncontrollably, your wrists burning slightly as you pulled on them.

It was like you were filled with electricity. And the noises you were making? They were a mix of moans and pleas for release, your body already nearing its limit.

His hand was gone, no more spanking and yet- the buzzing didn't stop, you had no release in sight and that's when you realized your mistake. He wasn't going to let you finish, the intention to drive you near your peak only to take you back down.

It was torture.

And you were absolutely loving it.

The minutes seem to tick by, maybe hours. Who knows anymore. All you're aware of is your trembling thighs, sweat glistening your back and your voice, cracking slightly as you scream and moan, writhing at the touch of his hand, then the hard buzzing once again.

"Hmm, we've never tried this setting before," he mused.

"Please Eli-"

He increased the intensity, a loud buzz echoing the room, and a series of vulgar curses escaping your lips, making him laugh.

The vibrator inside you was now pulsing at a rapid pace, the pleasure blinding, building, and there's nothing you can do to prevent the inevitable.

"Don't you dare come," he ordered.

"I can't-" you began, already starting to crumble under his control.

He gave the end of the vibrator a small twist and it hit a new spot that was pure euphoria. You tried to hold on, but it was impossible, your vision went white as an orgasm rocked through you, stealing your breath away, and all of the pent up tension that was burning in the depths of your core.

You let out an ecstasy-laced scream, every fiber in you igniting, every nerve firing at once as an immense surge of pleasure washed through your trembling body, shaking you to the core.

In that moment there was only bliss. The kind of sweet bliss that washes over your exhausted form, turning your limbs to rubber and melting your insides.

Your wrists ached, and you expected Elijah to untie you, but he had gone perfectly still behind you. Your heart began to race, suddenly filled with worry about whether he had become angered by your release. You honestly couldn't undergo another round of his erotic torture and live through it.

The silence and inaction was far worse than any punishment and you felt fear creep up your neck. Suddenly the vibrator turned back on at the max setting and his hand came down hard on your ass once again, leaving it stinging and burning, and tears brimming your lids, even as your body reacted with arousal.

You weren't even sure if your wrists could survive another round and it didn't help that the orgasm had made you sensitive to the point of numbness, but you can already feel your legs shaking, threatening to buckle underneath your exhausted form.

"Daddy, please I can't. I'll pass-" you started, the warning cut off with another slap.

You couldn't do it anymore, your wrists hurt more than the spanking. You remembered Davina had said that the rope could be undone with one word from you. Just as another spank was about to rain down, you rasped out 'confractus' and the rope fell off your wrists. You didn't waste a second, the moment you felt your hands free, you were tugging the blindfold down and pulling the vibrator out of you, tossing it across the bed and collapsing.

Elijah looked a bit shocked by your sudden escape, but that didn't stop him. With you no longer held in the bindings, he took it as another reason to keep punishing you and he grabbed your hips and pulled you underneath him.

His eyes were hard and wild, almost black, and his lips were curled up in a delicious smirk as he locked eyes with yours. The blindfold was held tight against your neck with one hand, keeping the pressure just enough to cause slight discomfort.

But then his eyes flicked to your wrists and the damage that had been done. The burns were deep, almost red and his demeanor changed instantly. His expression went soft, filled with remorse, but his dark, lust-filled eyes didn't change, still heated and primal, and needing release.

"I sometimes forget how delicate you are," he said softly, taking one of your wrists into his hand and giving a gentle kiss.

You flinched a little from the sting of it, watching his apology fill his eyes. You knew his guilt and self loathing was about to start, but before he could pull away, you reached up and grabbed the back of his neck and smashed your lips against his.

"I love when you get like this Eli," you admitted as the kiss broke, "Punishing me, fucking me, owning me. So don't start beating yourself up."

His response was an immediate hot sigh against your lips, relieved that he didn't hurt you.

"You do like the attention, do you?" he teased lightly, nuzzling your nose.

You nod, giving another kiss to the tip of his nose. "Always, but can you make this punishment worth it? It better end in a long, hot shower together or I might pass out," you whispered with a cheeky smile.

His shoulders shook from a silent laugh and his arms moved to either side of your face, caging you in with his warm presence, and you couldn't help the blush that spread through your cheeks as the emotion on his face flickered between the self-hating Elijah to the sweet one that you were in love with.

He ran his hand down your leg, then he lifted your thigh and held it against his hip and slowly, gently eased himself inside you. His lips were inches from and you couldn't look away. His eyes had softened now, and your heart melted at the devotion in them, only meant for you.

He slid his hand to the back of your neck as you clung to his shoulder, meeting him thrust for thrust as the pace gradually quickened. Your toes curled as waves of pleasure washed over you, but you held on this time, waiting for his permission, wanting to find release together.

His lips caressed your neck, his breathing ragged, and his movements became more erratic as his own control began to slip. The low, animalistic sounds rumbling in his chest nearly set you off, but somehow you managed to hang on.

Your mind is a fog, filled with everything Elijah; his smell, his warmth, the feeling of his skin against yours, the sound of his heavy breath, his low voice in your ear, his hips moving in a perfect tempo. It was overwhelming, dizzying, and intoxicating. You weren't sure how much longer you could hold out, especially with the way he was whispering your name like a prayer.

Your legs began to tremble again, Elijah knew you were close, and you were being so good for him. He could see the effort your restraint required in the furrow of your brow and the desperation in your eyes, he saw it in the twitching of your fingers and he felt the small spams from the place the two of you are joined.

"You've been such a good girl, come for me sweetheart," he cooed, nipping at your ear.

You closed your eyes and threw your head back. It felt like the earth beneath you cracked open and molten pleasure coursed through your veins, pouring into every cell and nerve, bathing you in absolute bliss.

Elijah kept rocking, dragging out your orgasm and making his own release finally explode throughout every part of him. As the both of you shook from pleasure, he didn't stop kissing you, kissing your cheeks, neck, and nose as the both of you tried to calm down. You clung to his biceps, relishing his touch, trying to calm down your raging heartbeat.

He released you and flipped onto his back, tugging you along, and making sure that you stayed close. You cuddled into his side, giving his chest small, gentle kisses.

He took your wrist, seeing the faint redness where the rope had burned your skin and gave it another tender kiss.

"Don't tell Klaus about the rope, he would not be very pleased to know you and Davina are making weapons behind his back, love."

You snorted and placed a soft kiss on his cheek, "how did you know it was Davina?"

He chuckled and rested his chin on the top of your head.

"Call it an educated guess," he teased and his hand playfully smacked your butt.

You both gave out a little chuckle before falling back into a comfortable silence. Your body had officially given out on you and exhaustion had taken over your form.

Elijah lifted you up out of bed and brought you to the shower, making sure that you were clean of any sticky sweat or traces of what had gone down moments ago. He wrapped his strong arms around you once you were dressed and both cleaned, bringing the covers around both of your bodies before kissing your forehead, and drifting off to sleep, holding you possessively against him.

This night didn't go as you planned, but you did not regret a thing.

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

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Also! If you wish to be removed from the tag list just send me a dm, you won't hurt my feelings (it's okay if you got sick of me ~lol) I don't wish to hold you hostage ♡

I've gotten a few dm's about my tags not working (yay) so let me know if its still a problem, I just re-tagged all of you so hopefully that solved it ♡

(It may be the hearts causing the issue but I don't want that to be true, so I am in denial)

[liveontelevision]

I saw someone do headcanons on Lucifer and I know you'd write it perfectly. They basically said that if you were to ignore him, he'd practically BEG and WHINE like a bitch to have you talk to him. Even if it's telling him he's pathetic. As long as he hears your voice.

Ofc don't feel pressured to do this if you're busy or anything else, Ily🫶🏻🫶🏻 keep up the great work! :]

OKAY MORE SMUT (seriously, mdni 18+)

Sorry this one took forever but I'm prettyyy sure it's worth it. Let's just say this is Lucifer discovering some new things about himself :D

And ILY THANKS FOR THE REQUEST BBG

Throwing out a CW: Intersex Luci

Ignorance is Bliss | Lucifer x Reader

♡♡♡

Becoming comfortable with the King of Hell as his partner was easy. He made sure to cater to all your needs and give you everything you asked for. Overall, Lucifer was a sweetheart and a gentleman. And this was especially the case in bed. Considering his immense powers, he was giddy to fulfill any of your fantasies you'd have, no matter how bizarre. After being with him for long enough, fantasies dissolved into curiosities. Some nights became spicing things up in the bedroom in ways that you'd never consider, just to see how much you could handle. Now? you wanted to see how much he could handle.

Neither of you were comfortable with bringing intimacy to the public, not without proper care, at least. But what if you could work him up in a way only you knew about? Tease him throughout the day? How desperate could you make him without touching him? You couldn't recall where you picked up this idea, maybe somewhere online at some point. Knowing how deeply devoted he was to you, he was sure to hold a great reaction to this.

You were together when the hotel was renovated, so it was an easy transition for you. Everyone already aware of your relationship and loving you in turn made your afterlife seem like less of a punishment.

His top priority was your comfort when you both moved. He made sure to be close to you in group settings, keeping a hand on you at almost all times. Whether that be a hand on your thigh or the small of your back, or simply having his fingers intertwined in yours, it felt like a relief for both of you.

But with this little act you were pulling, you would lean away from his touch, and make excuses to disappear for the afternoon. Or in the halls, where he'd usually greet you with a quick kiss or I love you, you'd pull out your phone as you approached him, or simply smiled with your eyes barely looking his direction. He would swear, if anyone asked, that this wasn't bugging him one bit. Not. At. All. You were all his at the end of the day, you could treat him however you want and he'd submit. He's fine. He's acting fine.

When it came to the hotel, there weren't many demons jumping at the chance of redemption in the beginning, so some nights turned into drinks, games, and music. You felt so incredibly lucky to be a part of this family, your eyes scanning across the room and taking in just the pure enjoyment of everyone around you. The center of it all tonight was Lucifer. He was going on about some fantastical story that involved a circus in some other ring of Hell, that then evolved into sharing baby photos of Charlie. His eyes always sparkled when he would talk about his daughter. You loved her too, of course, but your heart always fluttered when his admiration would show.

Still, you had that little experiment to play with tonight. As Lucifer went on about his stories, either entertaining demons with their content or his ridiculous retellings, everyone was drawn in. Not to mention, he was drunk and was acting like a fool, so he was even entertaining Alastor. With one foot on the barstool and the other propped on the counter, he acted out some ridiculous story that you paid no mind to. In fact, you made it a point to not react to anything, despite how intense he was becoming. You'd look down at your phone as he spoke. Or you'd start some random conversation with Husk, who really could care less, but he at least responded to you.

Keeping your eyes off of him was a challenge, but you could tell he was trying to get your attention when he'd brag about something. With no response, he would stutter mid-sentence, then change the topic after not getting the reaction he wanted out of you. With each ignorant glance, he took a swig of his drink.

He was seated after that, being scolded for scuffing the tables with his heels. That's when the ridiculous jokes began. You loved his jokes! You could listen to them all day, even laughing when he told you the same joke over and over. But not tonight, you had to remind yourself. You bit your tongue and sucked in your lips to hide any smile or laughter that might pass through. Still avoiding looking in his direction entirely, Lucifer was suddenly silenced. You looked up at him through half lidded eyes, then back down to your screen, mindlessly scrolling through essentially nothing. Charlie was quick to distract him with a story, he was nodding along and smiling as best he could for her. The party dwindled, leaving you, Lucifer and Husk.

“I-uh.. think our royal highness has had enough. You should take him to bed, kid.” Husk finally draws your attention to Lucifer, who has laid his head on the countertop, incoherently mumbling. You sigh and nod, taking his drink from his hand and rising to your feet. Just barely touching his shoulder, he immediately straightens his posture.

“Good call, kitty!” He had a habit of calling Husk that when he wasn't entirely there, it made both of you cringe, “Bedtime, my love?” He takes a hold of your hand in both of his and you have to remind yourself this is just for fun. The endgame has to be worth it. You pull away, already walking through the portal he had created when he was talking. He looked at you as you stood in your shared room, still seated at the bar. Finally turning, you sigh and place your hands on your hips.

“C’mon, Lucifer.” You said absentmindedly, using a beckoning finger to draw him in. He eagerly jumped from his seat following you in, even with his chest aching. You didn't normally use his name. Usually it was darling, or my love, or good boy if he was acting accordingly. He takes a hold of your arm as the portal shuts, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, then running small pecks along the length of your arm, stopping at the start of your shoulder. You let out a small, almost nervous sounding chuckle, before reeling back.

“Didn't see you around the hotel today, darling. Did you do anything fun?” Lucifer sways as he speaks. Maybe small talk would help? He was trying his hardest to act casual and keep a clear conscience considering how much alcohol he’s had at this point. You shake your head, pulling your top off. You decide to sort through your clothes long enough to let Lucifer catch the sight of you bent at the hips, rummaging through a dresser drawer while topless. You could hear him gulp. He starts the same way, but struggles with the buttons on his vest.

“L-love, I might need-” his intoxication is clear in his voice at this point. After throwing on some sort of silky slip, you sigh and turn your attention to him. Looking down and fiddling with the buttons, he begins to lose his balance and finds himself leaning against a wall for stability. You approach him silently, and easily undo each of his buttons. You'd be lying if this alone wasn't making your stomach flutter. Even then, it was easy to keep your cool after seeing that he was clearly enjoying this too much. You notice his labored breathing as he braces his arms against the wall, allowing you to run your hands across his bare chest and slipping his shirt and vest to the ground with some maneuvering. You keep your hands at his hips for a moment, he lifted his pelvis away from the wall, maybe hoping for some kind of friction. You were lingering barely an inch away from his lips. Hearing the smallest whimper seemed to remind you of your mission, so you quickly pulled away.

“Good night, Lucifer~” just that sentence alone sent him spinning. Your lips so close to him and your voice so smooth, he was beginning to enjoy the sound of his name in your mouth.

More. He needs more.

As you crawled under the covers, you made it a point to hum and moan as you stretched and settled in. Pulling your phone back up to your face, you barely had time to look at anything before a clawed hand had slowly pushed your device down, revealing a very red-faced Lucifer.

“Is something wrong, love? Can I.. help you?” He was genuinely worried. You almost felt guilty at that moment. With a final sigh, you set your phone aside and cupped his hot to the touch cheek in your hand. He immediately let the weight of his head fall into your hands, humming contently at the long overdue contact. Still, you shake your head in response to him, keeping your lips sealed. His lip finally starts to quiver and he lets out a shaky breath.

“Please, I need your voice, love.. I miss it- I miss you.” He almost breaks you, so you decide to reward him for this display at least. You silently press a kiss against his eager lips. He's ready to pull you in and ravish you with that alone, he’d do anything to hear your voice. You pull away. He tries making connections in his foggy mind, tracing through the past few days to see if there was anything he might’ve done for you to be this cruel to him. He can't think of any wrong doings, but.. he'll do anything.

“P-please? darling?” He stammers out, continuing to crawl towards you and sitting prettily on your lap. The view itself drove you mad. You could keep your lips sealed, but you couldn't prevent the blush becoming apparent across your cheeks. He hums, satisfied with this reaction at least.

“I don't know what's going on with you, but.. I love you.” Oh, shit. “.. I love you~” He repeats.

You keep your eyes away from him. This one was a struggle.

“T-That’s fine, don't tell me about your day.. o-or laugh at my jokes, but, darling-” he turns your head to face him, a hand lightly bringing you forward by your chin, you notice his eyes glowing. “I love you.”

…

Fine.

“I love you, too.” You said it quietly, a hint of defeat in your tone. He immediately perks up, shifting his grasp on your chin to thumb at your jaw, nearly encompassing your throat with his hand. Closing the already very small gap between your lips, he eagerly explores your mouth with his forked tongue. You yelp into his lips in surprise, before pushing him away carefully, seeing how much of a mess you've made him from just that phrase.

“Lucifer, that wasn't very nice, was it? You have to ask.” You said sternly, sitting up to rest your back on the headboard and pulling him with you to keep him seated on your thighs.

“W-Wha.. Ask? To kiss you? Well that seems.. rather…” He questions with a nervous laughter, waiting for the punchline. You only nod your head in agreement.

“Well.. can I kiss you, then..?” He asks awkwardly. It was cute enough, But this wasn't your original vision.

“Mmmm- no.” Making a big show out of tapping your chin and letting your eyes wander around the room, you finally look back at him.

“What? Oh- um.. please?” He clarifies, a now nervous smile present on his face.

“Please, what?” You start running your hands across his abdomen, letting them interlock behind his back and pulling him just a bit closer.

“C-can I kiss you.. please..?” You thought he'd be agitated at this point, but his voice is dripping with desperation. He likes it. You see his hips shifting just above your thighs.

“Hm. Maybe.. I just don't think you want it enough, my love.” You say sweetly, pouting as if you felt any remorse. You ran your hands up his chest, then back down his sides, brushing your fingers just slightly below his belt. He huffs.

“Sweetheart! I-I do want it! please..? I want you, p-please..” He finally moans out, panting heavily only from your hands along his bare skin. You couldn't help but smile, and finally give him what he wants. With a gentle kiss onto his lips, it's clear that he's shaking with anticipation. He wasn't jumping you like before or taking the lead to suffice his own desires. It's as if he was waiting for permission. You weren't going to give in that easily, though.

You pulled away after that single kiss, looking at him like you had just asked a question and were waiting for a proper response. Finally catching his breath, he braces himself up by keeping his hands on your shoulders. He looks at you with the sweetest puppy eyes, shifting his weight on his knees to ease the growing discomfort pressed in his pants.

“More, my love.. I need more- I-I need you to-” He's still rambling. You hum, letting the hand that had been sitting on his hip palm at the bulge in his pants. You learn forward, pressing your lips against his skin and running your tongue up his neck. He shivers, the sudden sensations after being ignored for so long already forces a pathetic sound from him, music to your ears. Your kisses become sloppy, and your little nips will surely bruise and shine by the next morning.

“I-I want- ahh~” He’s keeping up with it? You thought for sure this little game of yours had ended. You won and you're giving him the attention he finally needs, yet he's still begging for you? “talk to me.. darling-” he chokes out, moving his hands that had been tightly gripping your shoulders to cup your cheeks. You were pulled back by his touch, a slightly shocked expression on your face. “Please.” His eyes were brimming with tears. A single line of golden blood and saliva dripped from his mouth from biting a little too hard on his lip, in an attempt to keep his noises at bay. You moved your hands away from his buldge, which had accumulated a wet spot onto his trousers, then went back to trailing your fingers across his skin again.

“Okay.” You respond. He perks up at your acceptance, the little sparkle in his eyes brings a smile to your face. “Since you asked so nicely.” you said sweetly, “So.. how badly did you miss me? Only a few days like this and you’re already a mess.. did you miss our little conversations? My voice?” You question softly, brushing your thumb across his cheek to wipe away some stressed tears that had fallen. He nods, holding onto your hand and burying his cheek into your palm.

“-My touch?” You massage his hip, letting your hand drift closer to the clasps on his pants. He nodded again, much more eagerly this time. “Hm. Good.” with one final kiss to his lips, you push him to the side, swapping your positions, to where you were hovering over him with your arms caging him in. He barely has time to process the quick switch, before feeling your hands tug his pants. He's moaning at the sensation alone, holding onto whatever he could find, gripping your wrist in one hand and balling up the sheets in his other.

You linger above him, your lips just above his. You could feel him panting heavily against you, even before touching him. You'd normally be passionately entangled at this point, But here, you got the chance to see his face. You were enjoying taking your time with this one.

“You're being such a good boy for me.. you're doing so well.” Your eyes flutter shut to capture him in another heavy kiss, and you reach unto his pants, planning to slowly relieve his stress. A sudden request leaves his mouth, stopping you for a moment.

“N-no..! Nono.. love, my name. Use my name- please..” He's shaking his head, finally mustering the courage to make his request. Another new development. God, he was perfect. You move to his jaw, pressing kisses up to his ear before breathing heavily against it.

“Lucifer-” you finally say. He lets out a pathetic whimper, clamping his grip down onto your wrist and bucking his hips into your sudden, yet tantalizingly slow, palming. “You're doing so good for me, Lucifer. My Lucifer. My sweet, Luci~” you mutter into his skin, beginning to pump your hand a bit faster. He is doing so good for you, afterall, he deserves it.

This wasn't the only game you wanted to play tonight. you wanted to fully take care of your poor neglected king after all you've put him through. After toying with him for long enough, edging him from release each time, you finally let him rest. You pull away, after bringing him to the brink and tearing him away each time, you were reveling in his pretty tears. All the senses you were enrapturing suddenly put to a halt, forced him to look at you desperately. You fully dismount him, leaving him nude under your gaze. Slightly embarrassed, he pulls his legs together. You rest your hands gently on the top of knees.

“I’ll need both tonight, Luci.” You say casually. This was something you've tried before, and it was definitely due for a second round. You felt he needed the extra love. He nodded, his face completely heating up. walking your fingers across his legs and helping him take his trousers completely off, you were treated with the pretty sight of his already soaked pussy, that sat quite nicely below his already overstimulated cock. The combination of his two sexes was enough to drive a whimper even from you. You quickly dip down, your own desperation meeting his. After bringing him to the brink beforehand but not letting him finish, it wasn't long before he was squirming and whimpering under your touch.

Even with all that, he was still begging you for more. Drunk off his juices already, you ran your tongue up from his folds, flicking at his clit, then sending a heated trail right up to the head of his cock. he arches his back into the full exposure, and you have to keep your hands on his thighs to keep his legs from shutting. The agonizing moans and gasps he was letting out only made you want to hear more. Hastily pushing three fingers into his entrance, his voice cracked out some resemblance of your name. He doesn't use his other sex often, so when you get the chance to eat your fill, he's almost always struggling to keep any composure. pumping his cock in one hand, you skillfully pump and curl your fingers into him with the other, all the while maneuvering your tongue and lips to suction onto his clit.

“Mm-! I-I can't- ahha- take… anymore- m-mmy love-” He's stammering. You pull away for a moment to let out a single phrase,

“What do you say, Lucifer?” Before continuing your brutal overstimulation. Only hearing more whimpers, you slowed your motions, waiting for a proper response. You only speed up your movements, after keeping your thumb lightly pressed against the top of his head.

“P-Please-” he shoots his head back into the pillows, his legs already shaking. “Please, can I-I-” You hum against him, sending a mild vibration that still made a big impact, before lifting your thumb just slightly.

“You may, Lucifer.” You run your tongue across his entirety again, enclosing his cock into your mouth and taking in his final thrusts.

Still whimpering and gasping, you continue to bob your head, moving slow circles across his clit, and causing his body to fully tremor beneath you.

You finally sit up, enjoying the view beneath you, while wiping away anything that you didn't manage to already swallow. Even with his eyes closed from the pure exhaustion, he's muttering your name under his breath. You still don't know how you managed to get this lucky, so you appreciate his drunken appearance for a moment longer before cleaning him up and eventually settling him under the covers. You hold him tight to your chest, your limbs intertwined. Even with immense angelic power, he returns your embrace weakly, with shaky arms.

“I love you, Lucifer.” You hum, pressing a kiss onto his forehead while brushing some hair from his face. He's still catching his breath, “Luci-” you say just as sweetly. He barely opens his eyes to meet your gaze, still silent. With a gentle grip on his chin, you pull him upwards to fully face you. “I love you~” You repeat.

“Mmn- love you.. dear…” He grumbles, still clearly dazed from the events of the night. Running your thumb along his lower lip, you muffle his tired moan with a kiss, before letting him rest his chin comfortably against your chest. You’d say your little experiment was a success. And you're sure Lucifer learned a lesson along the way; He has to ask for what he wants.

♡♡♡

Hope you like intersex lucifer bc I recently discovered I LOVE INTERSEX LUCIFER

More requests and the next part to Suffer is comin' up soon 🫶

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[silverstar70]

Fandom: Criminal minds Character: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Author's note: English isn't my first language, I apologize for any mistakes.

Summary: Y/N had a stressfull day at work and just wanna go back home to her husband.

Warnings: 🔞‼️estabilished relationship, smut, vaginal sex, consensual sex, praise kink, orgasm control, oral sex, cute moments, fluff

Words count: 6,999k Hope you like it and let me know what you think! Enjoy it!

Rough day

5:30pm. Her shift was coming to an end, and she couldn’t wait. The office buzzed with activity as Lieutenant Commander Y/N Y/L/N navigated her way through the crowded halls. The stress of the day clung to her like a second skin. She had just finished a particularly heated argument with her commanding officer and felt on the brink of exhaustion.

As she rounded the corner, she ran into her colleague and equal in rank, Sarah Hayes. Sarah took one look at Y/N's face and frowned.

"Y/N, you okay?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Y/N forced a weak smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Just one of those days, Sarah."

Sarah placed a comforting hand on Y/N's shoulder. "Do you want to grab a coffee and talk about it?"

Y/N shook her head, the weight of the day's events pressing down harder. "Thanks, but I just wanna go home to my husband."

Sarah nodded, understanding flashing in her eyes. "I get it. Go on, get out of here. You need a break."

Grateful for her friend's understanding, Y/N gave Sarah's hand a squeeze before heading towards the exit. The drive home was long, it took her more than an hour and her mind was solely focused on the thought of Aaron and coming back to him.

The sound of the engine purring beneath her was almost hypnotic, but the tension in her shoulders refused to dissipate. Y/N steered her car into the driveway, her heart heavy from a particularly grueling day. Her thoughts raced back to the string of meetings, the impossible deadlines, and the argument with her commanding officer that still left a bitter taste in her mouth.

As she turned off the ignition and rested her forehead against the steering wheel, a deep sigh escaped her lips. She felt the weight of the world on her shoulders, and the only solace she could think of was the man waiting inside.

Pushing open the door, she trudged up to the front door, her movements slow and deliberate. The moment she stepped inside, the familiar scent of home—fresh linen and a hint of Aaron's cologne—washed over her. She closed her eyes, taking it in.

"Y/N?" Aaron's voice called from the living room; a note of concern woven through it. He appeared in the hallway, his face softening the moment he saw her as he noticed the fatigue etched on her face. "Hey, honey."

She managed a weak smile. "Hi."

He crossed the distance between them in a few strides, pulling her into his arms. The warmth and strength of his embrace immediately began to melt her stress away. She buried her face in his chest, breathing in his comforting scent.

"Rough day?" he asked, his voice a soothing murmur.

"You have no idea," she mumbled against his shirt.

He kissed the top of her head. "You're home now. Let's get you out of that uniform and into something more comfortable."

With a nod, she let him guide her upstairs and Aaron's presence already working to dissolve the day's stress. In their bedroom, he helped her out of her stiff uniform, his hands gentle and caring. She changed into her favorite pair of sweats and one of Aaron's t-shirts, feeling a little lighter with each passing second.

When they went back downstairs, Aaron had already prepared a simple but delicious dinner. The table was set with candles, casting a warm glow over the room. Y/N's heart swelled with gratitude and love.

"Where's Jack?" she asked as they settled down at the table.

"He's at JJ's for a sleepover," Aaron said, pouring them both a glass of wine. "So, we have the whole night to ourselves."

She took a sip of her wine, the rich flavor spreading warmth through her chest. "Thank you, Aaron. This is exactly what I needed."

They ate slowly, savoring the meal and each other's company. Hotch listened intently as she recounted her day, offering understanding nods and comforting words. The tension continued to ebb away, replaced by the peace that only him could bring her.

After dinner, they settled into the couch, the warmth of his embrace began to soothe Y/N's frayed nerves. He picked a light-hearted romantic comedy, hoping to lift her spirits. As the movie started, Y/N found herself more interested in the feel of Hotch's heartbeat against her cheek than the dialogue on the screen.

"You want to talk about what happened today?" Hotch asked softly, running his fingers through her hair.

Y/N sighed, snuggling closer. "It was just one of those days where everything that could go wrong did. Meetings that went nowhere, deadlines pushed up, and a disagreement with my CO that left a bad taste in my mouth."

He kissed the top of her head. "I'm sorry. Anything I can do to help?"

She closed her eyes, savoring his touch. "Not really. But being here with you makes it better."

His hand continued its gentle strokes through her hair. "That's what I'm here for, sweetheart."

A comfortable silence enveloped them as the movie played on. Y/N's eyes grew heavy, the events of the day catching up to her, but she felt a sense of peace she hadn’t felt all day. The rhythmic sound of Hotch's breathing was a lullaby, and soon she dozed off, safe in his arms.

She woke sometime later, the room dark except for the flickering light from the TV. He was still beside her, his arms protectively around her.

"Hey," she murmured, looking up at him.

"Hey," he replied, his voice soft and soothing. "You fell asleep."

"Sorry," she said, though she wasn’t really. She could feel the knots in her muscles unwinding. "I must have been more tired than I thought."

"It's okay," Aaron reassured her. "You needed the rest."

As the movie ended and the credits rolled, Hotch glanced down at Y/N, who was barely keeping her eyes open. He gently brushed a kiss against her temple. "How about we do something extra relaxing before bed?" he suggested.

Y/N looked up at him, curiosity and fatigue mingling in her eyes. "What do you have in mind?"

"How about a nice, relaxing bath?" He proposed, a soft smile playing on his lips.

Y/N's eyes brightened a little at the idea. "That sounds perfect."

Aaron helped her up from the couch, and they made their way to the bathroom. The large tub was one of her favorite features of their home, and tonight, it seemed especially inviting. He turned on the tap, adjusting the temperature until it was just right. He added a generous amount of lavender-scented bubble bath, and soon the room was filled with the calming aroma.

As the tub filled, Aaron lit a few candles around the bathroom, their soft glow creating a romantic atmosphere. Y/N watched him, her heart swelling with love and appreciation for the care he always showed her.

Once the bath was ready, Hotch helped Y/N undress, his touch was gentle and tender. He discarded his own clothes and then, hand in hand, they stepped into the warm, fragrant water. Y/N sighed deeply as she sank into the tub, the tension in her muscles slowly melting away.

Aaron settled in behind her, and she leaned back against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as the warm water enveloped them.

"This is exactly what I needed," Y/N murmured, closing her eyes and letting the warmth and the lavender scent envelop her senses.

Aaron kissed her shoulder, his lips lingering on her skin. "I'm glad. You deserve to relax."

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds the gentle lapping of the water and their slow, synchronized breathing. Aaron's hands moved in slow, soothing circles over her shoulders and back, massaging away the last remnants of tension.

"Thank you for this," Y/N said softly, turning her head slightly to catch his gaze.

"Anything for you," Aaron replied, his eyes filled with love and tenderness.

They stayed in the bath until the water began to cool, the stress of the day long forgotten. Finally, Aaron helped her out of the tub, wrapping her in a soft, fluffy towel. He dried himself off quickly and then took her hand, leading her to the bedroom where they both slipped into their PJ’s.

Y/N reached into Aaron's drawer and pulled out one of his favorite t-shirts. It was soft and worn, the fabric infused with his comforting scent. She slipped it over her head, the hem falling to mid-thigh, and then put on some panties.

Aaron, meanwhile, pulled on a fresh t-shirt and a pair of boxers, glancing over at Y/N with a fond smile. "You look good in my shirt," he said, his eyes warm with affection.

Y/N grinned, walking over to him and wrapping her arms around his neck. "I like wearing your clothes. It makes me feel close to you."

Aaron hugged her back, his hands resting on her hips. "I like you wearing my clothes too."

They climbed into bed, the cool sheets a welcome contrast to the warmth of their bodies. Under the covers, they found each other again, tangling their limbs together as they settled in. Aaron wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. She rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

The room was dark and quiet, the only sounds were their soft breathing. Aaron's hand found its way to her back, tracing soothing patterns that lulled her into a deeper state of relaxation. The troubles of her day seemed distant, replaced by the warmth and love that filled their home. As she drifted off to sleep, she felt completely at ease for the first time that day.

The next morning, Y/N awoke to the gentle rays of the early morning sun filtering through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. She felt Aaron's warmth behind her, his arm draped over her waist, holding her close. As she slowly opened her eyes, she smiled at the feeling of his breathing against her neck.

Aaron stirred behind her, his eyes fluttering open. He smiled sleepily at her sight and left a soft kiss on her naked shoulder. "Good morning, beautiful." he murmured, his voice rough with sleep.

"Good morning," Y/N replied, her voice soft and tender as she turned to face him. She reached up to brush a lock of hair from his forehead before snuggling into him

He wrapped her in his arms, caressing her arm and kissed her forehead. "Did you sleep well?"

"Better than I have in a long time," Y/N said, snuggling closer. "Thanks to you."

“I’m glad.”

They lay there for a few moments, savoring the quiet intimacy of the early morning. The room was filled with a peaceful silence, the only sounds their breathing and the distant chirping of birds outside.

Y/N looked up to him as he leaned in to kiss her softly, his lips warm and gentle against hers. "I could stay like this forever," he whispered, his breath mingling with hers.

"Me too," Y/N replied, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest.

They snuggled closer, their bodies fitting perfectly together. Aaron's hand moved in slow, soothing circles on her back, and Y/N closed her eyes, savoring the feeling of being so close to him.

"I love you," Aaron said quietly, his voice filled with emotion.

"I love you too," Y/N replied, her voice barely more than a breath. After a few more minutes of blissful silence, Aaron's stomach growled, breaking it and made Y/N laugh. "Guess it's time for breakfast," she said, still chuckling.

“How about pancakes?" Aaron suggested, his eyes lighting up. "With all the fixings—blueberries, whipped cream, and maybe even some chocolate chips."

Y/N laughed softly, her heart light. "That sounds perfect."

With a shared sense of contentment, they reluctantly untangled themselves from each other and Aaron got out of bed. "I'll take care of it. You stay here and relax."

"No, let me help," Y/N protested, but Aaron was already out of bed, pulling on a t-shirt.

"I've got it," he insisted, leaning down to kiss her softly. "You stay put.”

Y/N watched him leave the room, feeling a rush of affection and gratitude for the man who always seemed to know exactly what she needed. She enjoyed a few more minutes in their comfortable bed, already missing the presence of her husband before wrapping herself in a robe and making her way to the bathroom to freshen up.

By the time she joined Aaron in the kitchen, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon filled the air, adding to the cozy atmosphere. Aaron was at the stove, flipping pancakes with a practiced ease. He looked up as she entered, his smile warm and welcoming.

"Take a seat," he said, nodding towards the table. "Breakfast will be ready in just a minute."

Y/N poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down, savoring the aroma. She took a sip, feeling the warmth spread through her, and watched Aaron work. He moved with a confidence and grace that never failed to impress her.

Soon, he was placing a plate in front of her, piled high with pancakes with whipped cream and chocolate chips, bacon, and fresh fruit. "Bon appétit," he said, sitting down across from her with his own plate.

"This looks amazing," Y/N said, her mouth watering. "Thank you, honey."

"Anything for you," he replied, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand.

They ate leisurely, talking and laughing about lighter topics, leaving the stress of yesterday behind. Y/N felt a profound sense of gratitude for these moments of normalcy and love, which Aaron always seemed to cultivate.

"I love mornings like this," Y/N said, smiling as she sprinkled chocolate chips into the batter Aaron was stirring. "Just us, at home, enjoying each other's company."

"Me too," Aaron agreed, his eyes warm as he looked at her.

After breakfast, they moved seamlessly into their routine of cleaning up. Hotch insisted on washing the dishes while Y/N dried them and put them away. It was a familiar and comforting rhythm, one that they had established early on in their relationship.

As he stood at the sink with his biceps perfectly hugged by the t-shirt and hands immersed in soapy water, Y/N watched him for a moment, feeling a surge of affection. She loved seeing him in these simple, everyday moments, where the stresses of their demanding jobs seemed far away.

Unable to resist, she walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against his back. Aaron paused, a smile spreading across his face as he felt her embrace.

"Hey there," he said softly, continuing to rinse a plate.

"Hey," Y/N replied, her voice muffled slightly by his shirt. "Just wanted to hug my husband."

Hotch chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his body and into hers. "I never mind that," he said, setting the plate in the dish rack. He turned slightly, careful not to splash her with water. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better," Y/N murmured, tightening her hold on him. "Thanks to you."

Aaron turned off the faucet and dried his hands on a nearby towel before turning around to face her. He placed his hands on her hips, looking down at her with a tender expression. "I'm glad to hear that. You know I'm always here for you."

Y/N smiled up at him, her eyes shining with gratitude and love. "I know. And I appreciate it more than I can say."

He leaned down, capturing her lips in a soft, lingering kiss. When they broke apart, Aaron rested his forehead against hers, his hands gently caressing her sides. "How about we take a walk after this? Get some fresh air?"

"I'd love that," Y/N agreed, feeling a sense of peace wash over her. "A walk sounds perfect."

They finished the dishes together, the simple chore made enjoyable by their shared laughter and easy conversation. Once the kitchen was clean, they grabbed their jackets, put some pants on and headed outside.

The morning air was crisp and refreshing, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves on the trees. They walked hand in hand, enjoying the tranquility of the neighborhood. The sun was just beginning to rise higher in the sky, casting a golden light over everything.

As they strolled, they talked about their plans for the week, their steps perfectly in sync. Aaron occasionally pointed out small details along the way—a blooming flower, a bird singing in a tree—that made Y/N appreciate the beauty of the world around them.

After a while, they found a quiet bench in a nearby park and sat down, still holding hands. Y/N leaned her head on Aaron's shoulder, feeling completely content.

"I love here." she said softly, her eyes closed as she savored the peace and quiet.

"Me too." Aaron replied, kissing the top of her head.

They sat there for a while, enjoying each other's company and the serene surroundings. The worries of their demanding jobs seemed far away, replaced by the warmth of their love and the simplicity of just being together.

Eventually, they stood and made their way back home where they slipped out of their jackets and settled onto the couch, enjoying the peaceful Sunday morning. The sun was streaming through the windows, casting a warm glow over them. Y/N found herself feeling more relaxed and connected to Hotch than she had in weeks. The tension and stress of her work seemed like a distant memory in the presence of her loving husband.

"You know," Aaron said, his voice dropping to a low murmur as he looked into her eyes, "we still have the whole day to ourselves."

"We do, don't we?" she replied looking up at him with a smirk, her voice taking on a sultry edge.

A spark of something more than just comfort and relaxation flickered in Y/N's eyes. His eyes meeting hers with a knowing smile, when a surge of affection and desire for him rushed through her body and soon she straddler him, anticipating his intentions. His hands instinctively went to her hips, steadying her as she settled herself.

"I think we could make the most of it," he whispered, his breath warm against her skin.

Y/N's heart quickened as she felt the familiar rush of desire. She leaned in, her lips brushing softly against his, and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Their lips met in a deep, passionate kiss. Aaron's hands roamed over her back, pulling her against him as the kiss intensified and their tongues danced together, exploring and teasing.

They broke apart just long enough to catch their breath, their foreheads resting together. "Here?" Y/N suggested, her voice barely more than a breathless whisper.

Aaron nodded, his eyes dark with desire. "Definitely."

Y/N shifted slightly, pressing herself against him, feeling the hardness of his arousal through the thin fabric of his boxers. Aaron groaned softly, his hands moving under the hem of his t-shirt she wore, his fingers brushing against her bare skin, sending shivers down her spine.

His hands finding their way to her waist. "You’re so beautiful," he murmured, his voice husky.

Y/N smiled, her hands slipping under his shirt, feeling the hard muscles of his abdomen. "And you, my love, are perfect."

Aaron gently brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear, his eyes filled with adoration and desire. "I love you, Y/N."

"I love you too." she replied, capturing his lips again in a kiss that spoke of her deep love and desire for him, while her fingers threading through his hair, tugging gently.

As their kisses grew more intense, Aaron's hands roomed through her body, caressing her back, sliding over her hips, and then moving to cup her breasts through the fabric of his t-shirt. Y/N moaned softly, arching her back to press herself more firmly against his touch.

Their movements became more urgent, their need for each other overwhelming. In a swift move he got rid of the t-shirt, exposing her chest to the warm air of the room and to him. Aaron looked at her amazed by her beauty.

"Beautiful." he breathed, his hands tracing the curves of her body.

Y/N responded by tugging at his shirt, pulling it over his head and revealing his toned chest. She pressed herself against him and moved her hips on him, drawing another low groan from his lips as his hands gripping her hips.

Aaron's hands slid down to her thighs, his touch both gentle and possessive. He guided her movements, their bodies moving in perfect sync. The friction between them was electric, each touch and caress stoking the fire that burned between them.

Y/N's breath hitched as she felt the heat building between them, her hands gripping Aaron's shoulders for support. She reached down between them as her fingers deftly slipping under the waistband of his's boxers. Feeling his arousal, hard and ready, she smirked, and her touch elicited a deep groan from him. She wrapped her hand around him, stroking him slowly, feeling the heat and the pulse of his need.

"God, Y/N." he murmured, his eyes locked onto hers, his gaze filled with an intensity that took her breath away. "I need you."

"Then take me," she whispered back, her voice husky with desire.

With a swift, practiced motion, Hotch lifted her just enough to slide her panties to the side, his fingers brushing against her most sensitive areas, eliciting a gasp from her lips. His boxers were the only barrier between them but quickly freeing himself, she positioned him at her entrance, and with a shared look of intense desire, he slowly guided her down onto him.

His hands gripped her hips tightly, his fingers digging into her skin as he fought to control himself. The feeling of being filled by him, of their bodies joining so intimately, was almost overwhelming. Y/N's head fell back, a moan escaping her lips as she sank fully onto him, taking a moment to adjust.

"Aaron," she breathed, her voice filled with a mix of love and longing.

Y/N begun to move, slowly at first, savoring the sensation of their bodies joined so intimately. Each movement, each thrust, was a testament to their deep love and desire for each other. Hotch’s eyes were locked on hers, his expression a mix of love, lust, and awe.

"You feel so good," she whispered, her voice trembling with the intensity of her emotions.

"So do you," Aaron replied, his voice strained with need. "So perfect."

Their pace quickened, the intensity growing with each thrust. Aaron’s hands traveled along her body, caressing her back, her breasts and her thighs. Y/N’s nails dug into his shoulders as she rode him, her movements growing more desperate.

The room was filled with the sounds of their lovemaking—their gasps, their moans, the slick, rhythmic sound of their bodies coming together. Y/N felt the pressure building inside her, a tight coil of pleasure that threatened to snap at any moment.

"Aaron," she gasped, her voice breaking. "I’m so close."

He groaned, his hands gripping her hips even tighter, guiding her movements. "Come for me, Y/N. Let go."

She cried out his name as the orgasm ripped through her, her body trembling with the force of it. Y/N rested her forehead against Aaron’s, her breath still coming in ragged gasps.

Aaron gently stroked Y/N’s back, his fingers tracing soothing patterns. “That was incredible,” he murmured, his voice filled with admiration and love.

Y/N lifted her head slightly to look into his eyes, her lips curving into a satisfied smile. “It really was,” she agreed, her fingers brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. “I don’t want this moment to end.”

Aaron’s eyes darkened, as he growled with a rough voice in need. “Oh, I’m not done with you yet.”

A mischievous smile appeared on her lips. “How about we move this to the bedroom?” she suggested.

Aaron smiled. “That sounds like a good idea.”

With a low growl, he lifted her effortlessly, carrying her towards their bedroom. Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist to hold onto him tightly as he quickened his way to the bedroom. Once inside, Aaron gently laid Y/N in the middle of the bed and climbed over her. his lips crashing against hers in a hungry, desperate kiss. The urgency in their movements spoke volumes, each touch, each caress igniting the flames of desire even further.

Aaron's hands roamed her body, finding all the places he knew so well, drawing soft moans from her lips. He took his time, exploring every inch of her, savoring the way she responded to his touch. He kissed his way down her neck, across her collarbone, and down to her breasts, his mouth and hands working in tandem to drive her wild. Sucking and licking her nipples, making her squirm under him.

"Please, Aaron," she gasped, her hands gripping his shoulders.

He didn't need any further encouragement. He moved lower, his kisses leaving a trail of fire down her abdomen. When he reached the edge of her panties, he looked up at her, his eyes dark with desire. With a slow, deliberate motion, he removed her panties, leaving her completely bare beneath him. He took a moment to admire her, as his gazed roamed over her hungrily and his own desire was clear on him.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "I can't get enough of you."

Then, with a growl of need, he covered her body with his, their skin touching everywhere. He leaned down and captured her lips in a deep kiss, his tongues tangling hers. Y/N moaned softly into the kiss, her hands tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer, desperate for more of him.

While kissing her like his life depended on it, his fingertips started tracing soft patterns along her right side. The sensation was electric, sending shivers down Y/N's spine. Y/N's breath hitched as his hands moved to her breasts, his touch sending bolts of pleasure shooting through her body. She arched into his touch, silently begging for more.

Getting the message, he leaned down, capturing one of her nipples in his mouth, his tongue flicking over it in slow, tantalizing circles. Y/N's back arched and a low moan escaping her lips as pleasure washed over her.

"God, Aaron," she gasped, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her. "That feels so good."

Aaron hummed against her skin, the vibrations sending shivers down her spine. He continued to lavish attention on her breasts. Hotch’s kisses moved lower, trailing down her neck, her chest, and her stomach, making her gasp with pleasure.

When he reached the apex of her thighs, he paused, looking up at her with a mischievous smile. “I want to taste you,” he said, his voice a husky whisper.

"Please." she whispered, her voice trembling with need.

With a hungry growl, he climbed out of the bed and slipped out of his boxers, making clear that he needed her as much as she needed him. Hotch positioning himself between her legs and Y/N spread herself open for him, her body aching with anticipation.

Without a word, he lowered himself between her legs, his mouth attached to her clit, making her gasped in surprise. Her fingers tangled in his hair as he was savoring her Y/N cried out as he teased her with his tongue, tracing slow circles around her throbbing clit.

“Oh God, Aaron!” she moaned loudly, as she rocked her hips against his mouth. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

Aaron grinned against her, the vibrations of his laughter sending waves of pleasure crashing over her. He continued to devour her with the only intent to drive her closer to the edge with his tongue.

Y/N felt the jolt of pleasure rush through her, her body on the brink of release. But just as she felt herself on the verge of exploding, Aaron pulled back, denying her the release she was desperately craving.

She whimpered in frustration, her hips bucking against his hand as she chased the elusive peak. "Please," she begged, her voice hoarse with need. "I need to cum, Aaron, please."

But Hotch only smiled, enjoying the view with a mischievous smile on his face. "Not yet, baby," he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. "I want to make you wait; make you beg for it."

Y/N moaned at his words, her body trembling with anticipation. She knew that Aaron was teasing her, edging her towards ecstasy with a torturous slowness that drove her wild with desire and made her beg for more. She loved how well he knew her body and how to make her feel good.

"Please, Hotch." she whimpered in a desperate plea. "I need to cum, please let me cum."

Hotch’s grin widened, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Not yet, baby," he said, his voice low and husky. "But soon. I promise."

With that, he returned to work on her, his tongue and fingers working in tandem to drive her to the brink of madness as her inner muscles clenched around him. Y/N writhed beneath him, her body aching with need as she teetered on the edge of release.

"Please," she begged, her voice raw with desperation. "I can't take it anymore, Aaron, please let me cum."

Aaron’s smile softened, his eyes filled with love and desire as he looked down at her. "Okay, baby," he said softly, his voice a tender caress. "Cum for me."

And with those words, Y/N finally let go, her body convulsing with pleasure as she shattered into a million pieces and left her breathless. Aaron held her through it, his hands gentle and soothing.

"That's it," Aaron said, his voice filled with satisfaction as he continued to taste her, drawing out every last bit of her release. "Good girl."

When she finally came down from her high, Aaron kissed his way back up her body, his eyes filled with love and satisfaction. He positioned himself over her, his arousal pressing against her entrance, ready and eager.

Y/N was still trembling when Aaron moved up her body, his mouth capturing hers in a deep, passionate kiss. She could taste herself on his lips, the intimate act only fueling her desire for him. With the little strength she had left, she grabbed his head between her hands and pushed him more down on her.

“Are you ready for me?” he asked softly, his eyes searching hers for any hesitation.

“Yes,” Y/N whispered against his lips, making him smile. "I need you inside me."

Hotch didn’t waste another moment and with a hand he positioned himself at her entrance, his eyes locked with hers and with a deep and slow push he was inside her. They moaned in unison at the sensation, lost in each other’s gaze, as jolts of pleasure rushed along their bodies. Pausing for a moment to enjoy the feeling of being joined so intimately.

“You feel so good,” Aaron murmured, his voice a mix of awe and need. He began to move slowly, each thrust deep and deliberate, his hands gripping her hips.

Y/N wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer, her own movements meeting his. “Oh, Aaron,” she moaned, her head falling back against the pillows. “Yes, just like that.”

Their rhythm was slow and tender, each movement a testament to their love and connection. Aaron’s hands traveled down her body, caressing her breasts, tickling her sides as his touch was sending shivers of pleasure through her.

“I’m close,” Y/N gasped, her nails digging into his back, her body arching towards him. “Aaron, I’m so close.”

“Cum with me,” Aaron urged, his pace quickening as his own release was building. “Let go, Y/N. Cum with me.”

Their movements grew more frantic, their bodies desperate for release. With a final, deep thrust, they both found their climax, their cries of pleasure mingling in the air. Aaron held Y/N tightly as they rode out the waves of their shared orgasm, their bodies trembling with the force of it.

When they finally came down, spent and breathless, Hotch collapsed beside her, pulling her into his arms. They lay there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, their hearts pounding in sync and their bodies tangled together, basking in the afterglow. Aaron's fingers traced lazy patterns on her back, his touch gentle and loving.

"I needed that," Y/N said softly, her voice filled with contentment.

Aaron smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "So did I."

After a much needed nap, Aaron and Y/N awoke in each other's arms, feeling blissfully content. As the afternoon sun dipped lower in the sky and the soft light of the evening filtered through the curtains, Aaron and Y/N remained ensconced in the warmth of their bed, savoring the intimacy they had shared.

Aaron smiled down at Y/N, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "You okay?" he asked softly.

Y/N nodded, stretching languidly. "Better than okay," she replied, her voice filled with warmth and satisfaction. "I'm perfect."

They shared a tender kiss. Aaron shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at Y/N. "You know, we still have the whole evening ahead of us," he said, a playful glint in his eyes.

Y/N laughed softly, tracing a finger along his jawline. "What do you have in mind?"

"How about a quiet dinner at home?" Aaron suggested. "We can cook together, something simple and comforting. And then maybe we can open a bottle of wine."

"That sounds perfect," Y/N agreed, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. They reluctantly pulled themselves out of bed, the cool air a stark contrast to the warmth they'd shared under the covers.

They made their way to the kitchen, still wrapped in the comfortable intimacy of the day. Aaron started rummaging through the fridge, pulling out ingredients for a simple pasta dish.

"I'll manage the pasta if you chop the vegetables," he suggested, handing her a knife and a cutting board.

"Deal," Y/N agreed, taking her place beside him at the counter. As they worked, the comfortable rhythm of their companionship returned, filled with light-hearted banter and laughter.

They continued cooking, the kitchen filled with the delicious aromas of garlic and fresh herbs. At one point, Y/N reached up to grab a can of tomatoes from a high shelf, only to have Aaron sneak up behind her, his hands resting on her hips. "Need a hand?" he asked, his breath warm against her ear.

She smiled, leaning back into him for a moment. "I've got it," she replied, but she didn't move away, enjoying the feeling of his body pressed against hers.

Hotch pressed a kiss to the side of her neck before stepping back. As the food simmered, he retrieved the bottle of wine from the pantry and poured them each a glass, handing one to Y/N with a smile.

"To us," he said, raising his glass.

"To us," Y/N echoed, clinking her glass against his.

They sipped the wine, savoring the rich, velvety flavor. The pasta was done within five minutes, and soon they were sitting at the table, enjoying the fruits of their labor. They ate in a comfortable silence, exchanging loving and proud gazes.

After dinner, they moved to the living room, bringing the remaining wine with them. They settled on the couch, Y/N nestled against his side. The candles they had lit earlier cast a soft, flickering light, creating a warm and intimate atmosphere.

Hotch wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. "This has been a perfect day," he said softly, kissing her temple.

"It really has," Y/N agreed, turning her head to capture his lips in a gentle kiss. "Thank you for making me feel so loved and cared for."

"You do the same for me, every day," Aaron replied, his eyes filled with love.

They sat sipping their wine and enjoying each other's presence. As the evening wore on, the wine and the warmth of their love began to lull them into a state of peaceful contentment.

Eventually, Aaron shifted, placing his empty glass on the coffee table. "Ready for bed?" he asked, his voice soft and inviting.

Y/N nodded, setting her glass down as well. "Yes, let's go to bed."

They made their way back upstairs, hand in hand. In their bedroom, they changed into their pajamas, the familiar routine grounding them in the love and intimacy they had shared throughout the day.

Under the covers, they found each other again, their bodies fitting together perfectly. Hotch wrapped his arms around Y/N, pulling her close, letting her rest the head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

"Goodnight, honey." she murmured, her voice filled with love and contentment.

"Goodnight, baby." he replied, kissing her softly. "I love you."

"I love you too," she said, her voice barely more than a breath.

As they drifted off to sleep, the events of the day played through Y/N's mind, filling her with a deep sense of peace and happiness. She knew that she could always count on Hotch, no matter what. And with that comforting thought, she slipped into a peaceful sleep, content and secure in the arms of the man she loved.

The following morning, Y/N awoke to the soft light of dawn filtering through the curtains. She felt Aaron's warm presence beside her, his arm draped protectively over her waist. She turned slightly to face him, smiling at the peaceful expression on his face as he slept.

Feeling a surge of affection, she leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips. Aaron stirred, his eyes fluttering open and smiled sleepily at her. "Good morning, handsome." Y/N said, drawing soft patterns on his chest. "Did you sleep well?"

"G’morning, baby." he murmured, his voice husky with sleep, pulling her closer. "I slept very well."

They lay there for a few more moments, savoring the quiet intimacy of the early morning. Eventually, the responsibilities of the day began to creep in. Y/N sighed softly, knowing she had to get ready for work.

"I wish we could stay like this all day," she said, her voice tinged with longing.

"Me too," Aaron agreed. "But duty calls."

With a reluctant sigh, they got out of bed and began their morning routine. Once they made their way downstairs, they decided to make breakfast together. As they moved around the kitchen, their movements were a bit slower than usual, a lingering reminder of their previous night's activities.

Aaron couldn't help but tease Y/N. "You're walking a bit funny this morning, sweetheart." he said with a playful grin.

Y/N rolled her eyes, swatting him lightly with a dish towel. "And whose fault is that, Mr. Hotchner?" she retorted, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Aaron chuckled, his eyes dancing with amusement. "I plead guilty," he said, reaching out to pull her into a playful embrace. "But you can't deny it was worth it."

Y/N laughed, leaning into his embrace. "Last night was worth every sore muscle." she agreed, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

As they continued to cook, the kitchen filled with the delicious aroma of eggs and bacon. Hotch turned to Y/N, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Should I be prepared for the Navy to come after me for incapacitating one of their best lieutenants?”

Y/N snorted with laughter, shaking her head. “I think they’ll understand.”

His’s smile widened. “Good to know.”  He said, glancing over at her with a mischievous grin, "And if anyone asks why we're both moving a bit slower today, we can always say it's because we had a very intense workout."

Y/N snorted, her laughter ringing through the kitchen. "Yeah, right. An intense workout indeed."

Once breakfast was ready, they sat down at the table, their plates filled with eggs, fruit, and toast. They ate together, savoring the simple pleasure of a shared meal and the silence of the house.

As they finished eating, they cleaned up together, washing dishes and wiping down counters with practiced efficiency and went preparing for the day. After taking a quick shower together, Y/N slipped into her navy uniform while Hotch dressed in his suit, ready to face another day at the BAU.

They walked to the door and right before going out, Hotch wrapped his arms around Y/N, pulling her into a tight hug. He pressed a soft kiss on top of her head as she leaned into his embrace, resting her head against his chest.

"Remember, if you need anything today, just call me," he said, his voice filled with concern.

"I will," Y/N promised, leaning up to kiss him. " And same goes for you.”

"I know." Aaron replied, kissing her back. "I love you."

"I love you too," she said, giving him one last smile before heading out the door.

[i-hold-deaths-hand-in-mine]

rio collects a soul; an excerpt from my fanfic

The room was so dark when Rio opened her eyes hours later to a familiar and unwanted tug. Beside her, Agatha snored, and it brought a small smile to her lips as she leaned over to kiss her temple. 

“I’ll be back,” she whispered. Agatha murmured her acknowledgement, then promptly went back to snoring. 

Rio closed her eyes and gave herself to the shadows, dissolving into them, letting them bring her to where her soul was being called. 

It was a bedroom, quiet and lifeless. 

She was in her Death form, but her face was human, soft and gentle and warm. This, she realized with a cold fist around her heart, was her least favorite form. It was the one that did not belong, halfway between Death and human, and for one purpose only –

When a soul was scared, and needed gentleness. 

These moments were the ones that haunted her most, made her understand that she was not ever meant for much more than destruction and death. She took, and took, and took, and never left anything behind but a body. 

Just like with Nicky , she tried so hard not to think. 

The boy sat up in his bed, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. Rio stood in the doorway, smiling invitingly at him. She reached out a hand, beckoned him forth. 

He yawned. “I don’t want to get out of bed,” he told her. “It’s so warm and comfortable.”

Her heart was already breaking. How many times was it possible for a heart to break and mend and break and mend and break and mend before there was nothing left to put back together?

“I know a place that is warmer,” she told him, “and much more comfortable. I can take you there.” It was so hard for her to speak, even though for the first time that night, all of her words were true, true, true.

This enticed the boy to throw his blanket back and swing his legs over the side of the bed, but then he paused. “Will my mom and dad be there?” he asked. 

“Yes,” she answered without hesitation. 

He got up and walked across the room to stand just in front of her, his eyes big and wondrous as he looked up at her. “You’re so pretty,” he said. 

She let out a noise that was half a cry and half a laugh. “Thank you,” she managed. 

His eyebrows furrowed as he thought for a moment. “Do you promise that my mom and dad will be there?”

Rio knelt down to look him in the eyes. One hand went to her waist, to touch the blade of her knife, and the other she lifted for the boy to take. “I promise,” she said, and it was true. Any reservations he had dropped away. He reached out, placing his little hand into hers –

And then he was gone, if only in one way; because in the morning, he would still be there, in the other way, in that heartbreaking way his parents had to learn. 

Rio walked over to the side of his bed, gently tucking the blanket around his cold body. Her hand touched his forehead, and then she collapsed to her knees, and she sobbed. She sobbed, and sobbed, and sobbed. 

But the house remained quiet, silent –

None heard when Death wept.

Still she did, every time she was called upon. Quiet, and alone, like a horrible birthright, an imprint on her very soul she was never meant to escape. She thought back to the last time she spoke to Charonides, the words she had proclaimed: I am Death. 

Death, Death, Death. 

Not a birthright. A curse. This was a curse, perhaps the oldest, the very first.

Because where, in all the world, could Death possibly escape itself? Where could Death have hidden, when none could hide from Death?

(And why did Rio feel like she was being swallowed whole by the overwhelming desire to do either?)

Then, a very small, very quiet, and very pleading voice, way at the back of her mind, whispered urgently her answer: Home . 

Where could Death run to? Where could Death hide?

Well…where would any of us?

Home , of course – whether a person, or a place, or a feeling…we can always run home . 

And so she went home. 

She buried herself beneath the blankets in their bed, smothered Agatha in a tight hug that briefly woke her only so she could then wrap her own arms around Rio. She inhaled deeply the scent of Agatha’s hair, of their laundry detergent on the pillowcases. 

She nestled herself within the feelings of safety and calm and warmth, within the arms of the woman she loved, within all these things she called home.

This was where Death hid.

[taemcains]

your faith between my teeth — cainlane

a night, a dawn, and so a different night. ao3

🎧 julia shortreed - taste

The world doesn't die in Rotkov.

It lurches after them like a wounded beast, lugging the guts and gore of all that they've witnessed there. The pursuit is slow but ceaseless on a road laid in blood. It can’t let them go; it will not rest without gagging on their last cuts of sanity.

An abandoned railroad station mercifully swallows them first, housing them in its hushed ribcage, offering them a few swigs of safety, and a tattered blanket of quiet to settle over their shoulders.

Well, it was quiet, Lane thinks sourly, too exhausted to forbid herself this indulgence in petulance.

Night had been washed away like ink, fading without notice, leaving behind a blanched dawn stained by voices of every color. Even the most muted members of the squad argue their case along with the familiar, intense tones of Anna and Noah.

In the end, survival is an individual instinct, and each member had to ensure theirs. Lane's mouth lifts faintly. Does the General know it wouldn't take all that much for his leash to fray?

A tall, muscled woman speaks up, frustration further twisting the scar cleaving the deep brown of her face. ‘We have no way of powering the snowmobiles. Setting off with barely any charge left is suicide.’

A retaliation of ‘We have two injured people with us!’ flung, knocked away by Noah snapping ‘Do you think they give medals for dying ten miles closer to Adam?’

Anna looks up sharply, hand clenched by her side, and Lane sighs inaudibly, falling back into her mind as another bout of squabbling begins anew.

Roused minutes before dawn with a stiff neck and a dull, throbbing ache in her body, Lane has been quietly leaning against a table, haggling with her mind whenever the squad's deliberation went off course. To dissolve every touch stinging like salt on her skin, to send them rippling over her body when moonlight is the only voyeur, to not have them cresting over every moment, eroding the present.

But the material is precious, rarer than a memory untainted by its future, and just as unrelenting. It slithers between the muffled din of the squad, burning fingers tracing her collarbone, the cold of a cross sliding down her neck, so vivid and real she nervously glances at the corner of the room as if his intent eyes are watching her from the writhing shadows.

Her eyes snap back to the squad as Greg rises from where he's been crouched on the floor and squares his shoulders, adopting an unfaltering stance. Though it's a weak specter of the General's vulcanized presence, the squad quietens, their bickering dying to a whisper here and a jab there.

‘Getting stranded without shelter around is riskier. For the injured,’ he swallows, ‘and the rest. The safest option,’ for most, goes unsaid, ‘is sending the coordinates of this station and waiting for the base to get us.’

Calls of protest cut through a fog of relieved sighs, mollified when Greg turns an affable smile on them. ‘Why don't we check out the snowmobiles again if it'll satisfy you?’

The smile cracks when Anna stalks out of the room with a venomous look as goodbye. The tall woman who'd spoken earlier claps him lightly on the shoulder. ‘I'll come with you, let's go.’

Guilt adroitly plastered and painted over in hardly a few seconds, he meets her with a winning grin, draping an arm over her shoulder. ‘Why freeze out there? Imagine the kind of things you can find in these drawers.’

‘Of a station? Get out of here,’ she says, laughing as she pulls away.

Watching them, Lane recalls an old feeling; her first friend, the most loyal of them all, of being wrong. Born too cold, too aloof, too asleep to this world, she could do nothing but peer like a berated child from the back rooms as the rest of them tangoed through life, switching between partners, comfortable in the arms of pain, misery or happiness.

As she'd grown older, she'd managed to snatch a table for herself, watching with shark eyes as her peers stole away into the crowd, dancing and fighting and falling, and she convinced herself it need not matter to a person with ambition like hers.

But someone had come for her, come to her, graceless and inept that she is, holding out a hand with the promise of a turn around the sky itself as their ballroom. Who had seen her among a bevy of buoyant dancers, who had picked her out from a cast of white capes, who had sat by her side, looking ahead as their boots quietly kissed and kissed.

Lane sighs irritably as self-awareness oozes in like rancid oil, blistering under her skin. He can't allow her a single thought without tailing it like a comet.

She pushes herself off the table, intending to find a spot obscured to all but sunlight, when she pauses, eyes snapping up in unison with the squad, as an abrupt thud sounds from the floor above. Hands creep to their sides, relaxing as feathers sweep past rusty walls, an eerie shushing noise echoing with every step.

Wings large enough to brush the walls. Her heart misses a beat. Not Anhea.

She swallows, mortal eyes vainly trying to scatter the dark of the doorway as her heart skips impatiently, zero point eight seconds lavish when he’s not around. A new shadow bolsters the existing gloom. She inhales sharply, lungs taking in the last sips of air before his presence siphons them, only to deflate as the immortal steps inside.

Red is garishly bright in a room abandoned so carelessly.

Lane watches with distaste as Pileon saunters upto Greg, ignoring the squad who visibly shy away from his path. ‘Anhea and I are done with our shift. I hear you're choosing to stay?’

Greg nods. ‘We'll be sending the coordinates after checking on the snowmobiles. Tell Cain to take over patrolling.’

Pileon eyes him disdainfully. ‘Do I have any more duties after an entire night of flying?’

A short, obtrusively muscled man grumbles as he gets to his feet. ‘We spend half our time looking for that angel.’

Cain's deadened eyes, the labyrinth of his mind they invite her into locked and shut, and the exhausted set of his shoulders jostle their way to the front of her mind, and an odd sting of irritation shoots through her, shoving past reason or rationality.

She speaks before she could think. ‘I'll let him know.’

Greg turns to her with a confused smile, pleasantly surprised and vaguely suspicious of her volunteering for a cause that does not concern her. Pileon looks at her with mocking amusement, going as far as to gallantly sweep an arm out.

‘Go on. The prince needs his frog. Or is it the other way around?’

Ears burning in humiliation, Lane does something she wouldn't have dared to under the General's sovereignty, and dismisses herself, wrenching past them without a second look, chased into the shadowed passageway by the demon's knowing gaze.

The further she retreats, the more her shoulders slump, until she pauses, exhaling soundly as the squad's chatter dwindles to a faint buzzing. The relief doesn't last long; on her subsequent inhale, the dust motes from the air transmute into hundreds of moths inside her, fluttering in anxiety, scattering the words she had torn apart and thrown away.

Remember this. Look and don't forget.

She scoffs as she nudges a door open. She hadn't ever forgotten. How does one forget divinity, when it glints through gleaming white feathers and eyes laden with the weight of time? It had simply… faded into the background like the hushing of the sea to a coast dweller. What would be a staggering roaring to the others, terrifying in its unknowable depths, was a quotation hum to her.

But to get used to the sea is a fool's wisdom. His rage crested over them, and she was left blinking through the fear drenching her at the savage aftermath. But maybe the destruction wrought by three pairs of wings and incinerating eyes is not more than what he broke in her, for her to look at a seraph and see a metamorphosis instead: Beautiful. Petrifying. Beautiful.

She peers into yet another ransacked room, reliving last night. Gone. Here. Gone, she'd thought, still as a sacrifice, left at the altar of his hands. Humanity is scant in her, but his fingers were greedy on her skin, leaching what he wanted, and thoughtlessly, callously brimming her with need.

No, what she had forgotten is this: that for all his sins, he is still an angel, and for all of hers, she is only a mortal.

The last door in the hallway springs upon her as if in ambush, cracked open and leaking dark like the waiting maws of a wolf. She's allowed a fortifying breath before it swallows her, and spits her out onto a chessboard of shadows and struggling daylight, with archive boxes, overturned chairs, and her, she supposes, the pawns to the angel lucent and quiescent in the corner of the room.

She makes her move, cautiously stepping around office paraphernalia like a thief in the night, trying to think ahead, not to win, but to challenge, to put up a fight, only to slow and then stop entirely.

He's… sleeping.

A few ghostly steps and she's in front of him, close enough to coax out deception, close enough for her knee to brush his in a way that an excuse of ‘accidental’ would be met with pinched skepticism. She gets to work, casting her scrutiny on him.

The sun falls back in its rising, to linger and worship him in a pour of light like white wine. Unmoved by its adoration, he dreams in a bare office chair, legs crossed carelessly, wings arcing over the armrest and flowing to the floor like a heavy veil. Truly, assuredly asleep.

The verdict lays out the next course of action. Step back to a safe distance, rouse him, deliver the message, and leave. Clear, efficient, and rational, all of which would appeal to her in any situation, so why does she hesitate now?

She glances to the side, as if sharing a look of disbelief with a stranger over an act of public idiocy, except both the idiot and the onlooker in this scenario is her, before sighing softly, stirring the wisps of his hair as she leans down.

Just this once, she thinks in a heedless rush of curiosity-apprehension-longing, inflamed by an achingly familiar voice laughing in the back of her mind. I just need some ammunition, anything.

The first shot is fired at her, by her own useless observation that Cain is almost too beautiful to bear from this proximity, too beautiful to watch and not want.

Strands of silk-white hair fall over his eyes, fitting them with a frayed blindfold, shrouding the webbing of translucent blue veins on his eyelids. His temple rests on an uncurling fist, fingers skimming his cheek like slender branches. His lips part innocently for steady exhales, oblivious to the kind of thoughts they set off in her.

Despite his unearthly beauty, catching him in such a vulnerable position almost feels like evidence. For all his perilous power, he too requires rest, implicating him in the same weakness that plagues mortals. Almost human, she thinks blasphemously.

Her mouth twists wryly. What is she doing? Her hand rises of its own accord, fingertips hovering over the spill of moonlight over his ear. Trying to knit his veins to hers, to make them of the same blood? Her finger follows the orbit of a stray lock of hair, silk sliding against her skin. Trying to make him human? It slips and grazes the delicate shell of his ear, her touch so light she can only confirm its reality when her entire arm trembles.

So close, she thinks, suddenly hollow, empty. Close enough to feel you breathe, mind eons away.

His eyes slit open.

Her heart leaps and she almost follows its wake, too panicked to worry about tripping over his feet, before going boneless, meek as a rabbit sagging dead between the jaws of a fox, when Cain lifts his hand, lazily catching her wrist.

The seconds draw out as if slogging through honey, and it's twice as sweet when he leans his face into the palm of her hand, nuzzling into it like a sated stray cat with a soft sigh of reprieve.

She stays limp in his feather-light grip, mind and body in agreement for once, to be a mute witness to his tender spot, his soft underbelly, the way the faint heat of his skin leaches into her cold palm.

Miraculously, her mind tolerates the warmth budding through her veins and blossoming in her chest for all of five seconds, before hissing and clamoring over why, to stretch the moments of his weakness, or to memorize the feeling of his skin, her softness?

She can tell the exact moment his scheming mind catches up to his gentler body, and sweeps away the last vestiges of sleep, already spinning new webs. His lashes flutter like a baited bird, tickling the sensitive skin of her fingers, sweetening the parting as he draws his face away.

He releases her hand like an afterthought, so nonchalantly it could be nothing less than calculated. An insouciance mirrored in the slow routine of running a hand through his hair, and shaking off sleep, silver cross briefly catching fire in the sunrise.

‘What?’ He doesn't grace her with his gaze as he speaks, voice lower and rougher than usual, dredged from his throat where sleep was holding it in shackles.

‘The squad asked you to take over patrolling,’ she replies, mouth emptying words mechanically, even as her mind scrambles, grasping at the fire illuminating what she had assumed to be a shameful fantasy.

He sighs, dropping his head back. Distantly, she admires the strong, graceful line of his throat, a serene backdrop against her violently overspilling thoughts. When he straightens and his eyes finally catch hers, it's not by being garbed in one of his thousand disguises, but honestly, tiredly.

He lifts a brow when she stays rooted to the spot, still blindsided by her dream confessing to be a memory. ‘Planning to let me go?’

She shoves what would be a deeply satisfying retort into an armoire of other worse things she's held back around him, and wordlessly steps aside, her real gratification the brief, confused flit of his eyes as he rises, strolling to the center of the room.

His wings stretch out, curling and uncurling, a field of moonflowers blooming in front of her eyes with every motion, as their owner twists his shoulder with a hand, wrestling with the consequences of a night spent in discomfort.

Lane watches his back, the familiar loose, languid lines now distorted as in a nightmare, shoulder blades pressed high and tight together, tensed.

Did he realize that I remember? The mystery of why, or how, her flimsy, threadbare blanket had held her tightly till dawn, entrusted to her to solve with only the barest wisps of hints. A flash of white spiked through her lashes, a kiss of cold against her neck, a whisper of feathers in drift.

She'd thought it was a dream.

‘Better not linger.’ His voice steals into her memories. She looks up as his head turns slightly, offering her the slashes of his cheekbone and jaw blade first. ‘I might’ve heard squeaking.’

He doesn't look at her.

Lane has always felt curiosity like an itch, aggravating and intolerable until she could find an answer she deemed satisfactory. But this feels new. Different. Sharper, stronger, violent like the sea, more useless than the anger it cowers behind.

But no. She's only curious. Curious about why her mind follows him like he's North Star. Curious about why she needs to look for him in every room. Curious about why she's always the fool here, on her knees to a god deafened to all but his own solitude. And angry, angry that her heart won't beat for her own pain but twinges when he's discomforted, his unease echoing in her chest.

She just has to know–

Maybe that's what possesses her.

‘Cain-’

He swivels around in a sunburst of feathers and as her vision clears, her stomach plunges. Wings fanning out behind him like a crucifix, the sunrise lending a lethal blade of crimson to his eyes, his image is of deity, angel, and sinner in synchrony. If God still lived, he would’ve walked in his shadow. Her fingers snaked around his wrist almost feel like desecration, if only she had the power to touch him.

Reverence settles over her like the hush of first snow, smothering all her gasping worries, soothing all her lacerating feelings. Her insignificance isn't a burden, but a nave she walks to faith. Her fingers slacken, unable to bear the burning perfection of divinity, when he speaks.

‘Yes?’

His voice is low, wrong, disorienting as a note missed in a fervent oratorio. Her knee jerks and she takes an unconscious step back as he arches his hand, sending her fingers sliding over a swathe of bare skin evading his sleeve. His wrist bones strain to kiss her fingertips through ludicrously soft skin, and his eyes anchor to her face, twin wreaths of fire hardly quelled by the snow of his hair falling into them.

‘What is it?’

Her nail snags on a seam, and she watches with horrifying desire unfurling claws in her stomach as his sleeve inches back. A flash of tantalizingly smooth skin marbled with sculpted blue veins, hot to the touch. When it's swallowed by night-black fabric, it feels like punishment.

When her eyes rise back to his, she finds them still, still as the air before lightning. Dimly, she realizes she should be afraid. Killing her isn't the worst of what he can do to her. He could hone and hand over her own desire like a dagger, annihilation without a touch of blood on him.

‘You're not answering me.’

His tone remains carefully flat, a void coming up to meet her hands when she reaches for a clue to predict his next move. A drop of disquiet finally rolls down her spine and this time, she's overly conscious of the distance between them as she shuffles back, stretching like a fraying cord long past its limit, a sharper tug from either side enough to snap it irreparably.

He tests it.

Lane's eyes widen as he follows her lead, a slow, perfectly overestimated step barely grazing her knee with his, before drawing back to position, locking them in a strange dance. She doesn't know the steps, but she knows she's tithing her hand to a cunning partner. She knows her body will only glide to the melody his fingers play.

She jolts as he resumes their game, forearm gliding against the loop of her fingers, firm muscle and chiseled veins straining against the obscenely thin material. His rapt eyes track every twitch and exhale of hers, pulled by the allure of even a simulation of his skin and all of it just verges on the edge of too much.

Cain tilts his head in an uncanny imitation of genuine curiosity. ‘Should I take your silence as an invitation to guess?’

He doesn't wait for her reply, accurately assuming she would need far more than a few minutes, or the distance of more than a day, to pry out coherent words.

‘You want something from me.’ The hypothesis, spoken so plainly, spoken like the truth, is shockingly crude from the mouth that spins half-truths and full lies with the prosaic ease of a spider. He cocks his head, considering her without seeing her at all.

‘No, not want.’ He leans closer and she tenses, praying his teeth would be gentle on her neck, conned into faith by his intoxicating scent. ‘Something worse.’

The sun, now seething and glorious, bleeds all over him. Two memories twine in her head, backlit by flame; the two times he's alluded to his priesthood, but only now does she see. His eyes are enough to extricate your worst sins from the bars you trap yourself in, to lay them bare on your body and flay them with a single word.

He wouldn't need to do much, she thinks, lightheaded, flushed down to her throat. Anyone would willingly sink to their knees if condemnation sounded like this, voice dipping suggestively, almost rasping the words out. ‘Need, maybe?’

Hardly able to think past the dizzying fog of something both heady and subtly sweet emanating from his skin, she makes a miserable attempt at shaking her head, silenced by his hand arcing up to brush her cheek, fingertips sliding into her hair.

Silver ensnares her peripheral vision. Though her eyes flit back to him when he draws in a silent breath, uneven around his own abstinence, a thought won't let her go, provocatively dangling in her mind.

The crimson of his eyes deepens to sanguine. Lane swallows painfully, stomach folding it on itself, anticipating the climax, the crescendo, the cuts his cunningly bladed tongue would leave.

She'd expected words. She should've remembered his touch, its fatal softness.

She jerks minutely, stifling a gasp as his hand lightly trails over her hip. ‘Are you confused?’ Waist, ribs—her heart stops—the faintest brush over the side of her breast. ‘Hopelessly excited for nothing?’ Higher still, till his slender fingers collar the side of her neck. Eyelids slipping, he presses slowly, until her pulse is whimpering against his fingertips. ‘Is your godless body always starving?’

In dazed snatches, she wonders why. Why no blood wells up now. Why, if he meant it to hurt, it feels like a confession instead, given to be absolved by her own whispered sins.

The idea of Cain miscalculating a single word, look, or touch, much less a bacchanalia of all three is what gives her pause.

He wouldn't. He wasn't.

She slumps in his dreamlike hold, delirious and preening from the victory of finally, finally sneaking up to where he schemes, the second wave of intoxication sent by the thought of what he was insinuating exactly, submerging her inhibitions, suspending the consequences.

She twists in his grip. Lightly, just enough to turn her head and catch the drooping cross in her mouth, feeling it sink into her bottom lip and indent it.

He stills.

His wings shrink and flare, flare and shrink, but he remains frozen like a god amidst the myths that keep him alive. He exhales slowly, a sigh of soundless agony, rippling the air anticipating them.

Her teeth instinctively bite down on the metal clutched between her lips as his thumb brushes her jaw, turning her back to face him, interrupting her hazy fantasy of tasting the skin it kisses religiously.

Under half-lidded eyes, she watches as his eyes rove over her face, brow furrowing in a look of almost pain. She wonders if this is his one face that isn't painted on, naked as it can only be in a moment of undiluted agony or unrestrained ecstasy, and shivers.

His thumb slides over her bottom lip, hot against the warming metal, as his tongue snakes out to wet the corner of his mouth. Watching her eyes track the movement, lips parting unconsciously, he murmurs, gentle. ‘You might be.’

Tenderness was his mistake. She could reluctantly accept her body betraying her for the worship of an angel—understand it even, when she treats it like a tool at the best of times—but the quiet affection in his voice, real as blood, nothing like the cloying pity they'd glazed as love, sends something in her skittering.

Maybe it's fear. Scared of what lurks in his eyes, scared of what she would have to dredge up within herself and hold to light. Scared enough to stumble.

Lane flinches as a storage box home to obsolete equipment skids across the floor, clattering like her mind trying to process that it was her who was the catalyst for this turn of events. Even Cain starts, looking so much like a lover booted out mid argument that she lets out an entirely inappropriate breath of laughter. I’m definitely in shock, she thinks as his unblinking eyes fall on her.

He looks at her for a long moment over the rabid pounding of her heart, before stalking out of the room and taking the sun with him, wings shooting past her like neat rows of white-flamed arrows.

She moves to follow him, body and mind working on autopilot, but staggers, identifying, recognising his parting look.

Because he didn't look like the deity from last night filled with empty curiosity, or the angel from dawn reaching for her to rest, or even the priest from sunrise touching selfishly for once. The table catches her hip, steadying her. He looked like a common sinner, just as lost as her.

✟

The night is a courteous host to whoever knocks at its door. It welcomes her into an alcove of time where obligations cannot find her, taking her worry lined coat and hanging it onto the next sunrise's hooks. Lane sits on the edge of the roof, letting the wind titter and caper around her dangling legs, playful in her fragile, exquisite peace. Silence isn't the same as emptiness apparently.

So spellbound by the tranquility drifting through her like snow, she only notices her deification, the shadow-feathered wings resting on the ground, a second before he speaks. ‘What is it about this bleak view that inspires brooding?’

He sounds less far away than last night.

Her body straightens subtly, not moths, but fireflies flitting about her spine, tiny flash fires set where his fingers strayed.

‘I wasn't,’ she replies, eyes trained onto the star-pricked sky.

‘Already have your answers then?’ His voice is blank as glass, glued together from words like shards, warping the real meaning behind them.

She inhales slowly, siphoning courage from the unsuspecting stars, before raising her head, turning to look at him. Standing against the night, all of him in shadows. The god, the man. The angel, the sinner. She gives him the only truth she can afford.

‘I might.’

She does. She'd been so desperate to fill the singular blank in her mind, furiously circled and underlined in red, so as to shelve it and let it fade forgotten, that she overlooked what has always been right in front of her eyes: Cain exists in duality. Helping and hindering, savior and ruinous, the holiest thing her hands have held, and sometimes more human than she has ever been.

Not her perfect answer, not an answer that will allow itself to be shelved and forgotten, not an answer at all, but so right it could almost be called the truth.

Lane can't read his eyes through the veil of dark.

He's still for a heartbeat, two, before dropping down next to her, wings fanning out and sinking into the dirty snow, in a motion so smooth she wonders how she wound up in his distant embrace again. He leans back on his palms, tipping his head up to the sky, and heaves out a soft sigh, heavy as time. ‘Good for you.’

‘You sound bitter.’ She peers at what he offers of his face, a flash of an eyelid, the slope of his nose, soft pink lips, all caressed by moonlight's pearlescent sheen. ‘Are you still struggling?’

‘Not in the way you're thinking.’ His words float to the mirthfully twinkling stars, following the line of his stare. ‘More so with how I chose to be blind for such a long time. And of course, the consequences taste bitter now.’

She considers him thoughtfully, angling her body to his and tucking her knees to her chest. Rare that Cain pouring words like water into her hands is, she wants to savor it. Underneath that, a smaller, stupider reason. She just… liked listening to him.

‘Long, even to an immortal?’

‘Time doesn't always exist in a straight line.’ His head tilts, gaze sliding to her. Not empty, but haunted. He looks through her, at a past neither can touch anymore and when he speaks, she's not sure if it's to the her trapped in the present. ‘Some moments run in circles, for all of eternity.’

Lane thinks of her own life. She thinks of the glowing, heatless thing in her chest after an achievement that she named happiness. She thinks of the silence ringing in her childhood house, the gaze that seemed heavier when it was turned away. She thinks of the daze of awakening as something new and seeing him, not knowing a thread of blood and snow bound them. She thinks she understands.

‘I see,’ she says quietly.

His gaze sharpens, red splintering the opaque ice of his eyes, emotions finally whirling up in them. ‘Do you now?’ he bites out, almost accusatory, somehow brittle.

Her first contention is that she understands now, what he's really asking.

Her mind reminds her that one cannot understand someone without knowing them. And how can you know a person who disappears like a card trick between your fingers, there and then wholly new when you flip it?

But a smaller, startlingly insistent part of her tells her to wait, to look. And so she does, catching all that sloughs off of him like raindrops in her hands. When they flower open, in lies a mirror, reflecting what haunts her own nights.

Forsaken and forsaking their own kind, nowhere and never to call home, the humanity gouged out of her heaped onto him. Sometimes, in her weakest moments, she believes they'd fit like two halves of a pomegranate if they let each other.

Or perhaps—her eyes flick to him—it's only the strange logic Cain lives by, and therefore pulls her into.

Leaving her cold, and then burning. His fingers on her forehead, gently chilling the feverish skin, and the heat radiating off him in an inferno, hands reaching to crush her head. The closest anyone has come to the rotten thing inside her, and so far her hands would only brush air if she reached out.

So impossibly sweet and so inexorably dangerous.

She has him—her eyes flutter shut briefly—and she doesn't.

It's so quiet. It's only the two of them in the falling universe when she speaks. I want to. ‘I can.’ Better presumptuous than incriminating.

His eyes narrow. The only warning she's conceded before he's leaning in slowly, bracing a hand dangerously close to her thigh.

‘Anything?’ he asks, red eyes boring into hers, impenetrable to the moonlight hammering weakly against them. ‘Whatever it is?’

He's turning the same look on me, she realizes with a bolt of recognition. Rooting for the trick in her words. Absurdly, her next thought is I want to touch him.

Cowardice cannot be shed in a day. Lane only gazes back into his hollowed eyes steadily, hoping what she can give would be enough for now.

Adequately chastised, he sighs, lowering his head, and she counts his breathing silently. She blinks when the rhythm breaks, stopping with a faint shudder. Her eyes follow his line of vision and her own breath catches, an odd intermingling of shame and something hotter coiling in her stomach.

She'd needed to cut into something, cling onto someone, to draw out the restraint to hold still and not surrender a single gasp last night. The aftermath of which manifested on her palm, in a trail of half-moon red marks.

When he falls back, it's with the loot of her hand with him. Cradling it delicately in one hand, he traces the testament to his effect on her, written plainly on her skin. A barely there touch, half apology, half prayer.

He speaks when the motion has eased from stirring to soothing, still watching their hands.

‘Another promise? Besides my protection and kindness?’ Lane barely has the time for incredulity to rear its head before he continues, eyes shadowed when he glances at her. ‘Don't you know greed is a sin?’

Her eyes fall to the rosary guilelessly skimming her palm. Not my worst.

Cain smiles. While it's not his usual infernally soft one, there's a tremulous quality to its edges, a frailty in his eyes too light for her to recognize. ‘I'm joking.’ He squeezes her hand gently, yielding to her more than just his words. ‘You'll have to teach me this too.’

The idea of him entrusting her with teaching something she hasn't even crawled up the steps to makes her breathe out laughter, along with real honesty. ‘I'm not the right person for either.’

His reply comes soft as a breath held, swift as a hope dashed, both impossibly full of possibilities like raindrops suspended in time. ‘Then we'll learn together.’

Lane isn't quite as delusional to believe this isn't an aftereffect of needing her in his own esoteric pursuit; not his path, but only a detour. But leeched from that look he let slip like porcelain, shattering at her feet and dissipating the haze she was wandering in, she knows that if his words bloom like wisteria in her lungs, she'd at least be a thorn in his heel. He wouldn't be able to stagger away from this untouched either.

Even so. The thought that however briefly it, this, lasts, it wouldn't be Cain, or Lane, but CainandLane is tart and bright as biting into a berry, bursting sharp on the tip of her tongue.

Together.

She turns her hand in his wordlessly.

Not his perfect answer either, but his shoulders relax minutely, fingers tightening around hers, the rosary kept warm between their skin, and she wonders if summer will be sweet this year.