#avoid her or any celebrity like the plague

[pathologicalreid]

little duck | s.r.

in which Spencer is too excited about his first Halloween as a dad to remember he's supposed to be celebrating his birthday

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: jareau!reader, birthday party, halloween, dias des los muertos, roslyn talk, this IS my ffofa family but you don't need to read it to read this (just know that reader and jj have beef), mostly wholesome content, babies and having babies, the spencer reid dilf agenda! word count: 1.53k a/n: is this any good? not sure. it's definitely cute though.

Your eyes flickered around the kitchen, trying to spot a familiar mess of brown curls that you’d lost track of about an hour ago. “Hey,” You said to Penelope, putting an arm around her shoulders, “Have you seen my husband anywhere?”

The blonde shook her head, taking the opportunity to glance around the house to see if he was hiding in plain sight, “Haven’t seen him,” she shared a look with Emily, who shrugged, “Did you check outside?”

Shaking your head, you sighed while picking up some trash from the counter and setting it in the trash. “No, thanks though,” you flashed them a small smile before continuing your way around the house, he wasn’t in the office or the library either.

The house was decorated in a hybrid celebration of Spencer’s birthday and Halloween. Décor for the latter had started going up in September, but the fake spider that Spencer put in the guest bathroom still made your heart race. Balloons fluttered in the air while you strode past them, “Hey, there’s the lady of the house,” your head snapped up.

“Hi Dave,” you greeted Rossi with a hug, “How are you enjoying the party?”

He lifted his glass of punch up, “Other than the fact that I’m not sure how you got the punch to turn green, it’s a beautiful party. You’ve outdone yourself.”

Thanking him, you promised to come back and chat once you found Spencer, who was still missing. As for the punch, you were under strict orders not to tell anyone how the punch had turned green, but you knew that Spencer had used spinach as a natural food dye. Personally, you were avoiding the liquid like the plague.

Finally checking outside, the only thing you found was Matt’s older four chasing each other with glow sticks while their father watched on. Kristy was inside with Rosemary, who wasn’t quite old enough to chase her older siblings yet. You smiled at the thought that maybe next year she’d be able to join the big kids.

Henry and Michael were on the playset, the older of the two trying to impress his younger brother by crossing the monkey bars. You waved at Michael on the swing before closing the door behind you, turning around to continue your search in the house, jumping when you found someone behind you. “Oh,” you hung your head in shock, “You scared me.”

Your sister smiled at you, “Sorry, I saw you looked like you were searching for something, I wanted to see if you needed anything.”

JJ made your chest ache. Every time she offered to do something for you or surprised you with a gift, she continued to get into your good graces, but it just reminded you of your broken bond. Shaking your head, you looked around the living room, “I’m just looking for Spencer.”

Recognition flickered in her eyes, “He went upstairs with Amelia about ten minutes ago. I didn’t see him come down.”

You sighed in relief once you knew where your husband and baby were, “Thank you.” Making your way to the stairs, you turned and spoke up again, “And J, take some leftovers home! I really don’t need all of it.”

Hopefully, you could convince everyone to take at least something home. Throwing parties was a curse, there was always too much food. You made your way upstairs, checking the master bedroom before peeking your head into the nursery, finally finding Spencer.

He was sitting cross-legged on the floor with Mila propped up in front of him, still learning how to stand unassisted. You leaned against the door frame, watching Spencer adjust her Halloween costume as she stared at him in wonder.

It was a tradition in your family for your mom to make the costume for Halloween, at least the first one, and Spencer was more than willing to adopt any tradition available to him, especially if it involved Halloween. You gave your mom free rein of the costume idea, so you shouldn’t have been surprised when she showed up before the party today with a baby duck costume in tow.

She was blowing raspberries at him while he brushed some feathers out of her face, “We’ll have to trim some of those, honey,” he spoke to her gently. He had refrained from putting the hood over her head, either because he didn’t want to ruin the tiny ponytail she had sticking up from her head or because he didn’t want her to get too warm, but she seemed more than content to be dressed in the bright yellow outfit.

You were thankful that she’d be comfortable in the costume because the rest of the week would be jam-packed. Tomorrow night was the FBI trunk or treat, then a Halloween party at Rossi’s, then actual Halloween, and then a Dia De Los Muertos party at Penelope’s to round off the week.

Honestly, you weren’t sure who was going to be more exhausted by the end of the week, you or Mila.

Eventually, you caught the gaze of your eight-month-old, who reached out and made grabby hands at you, exposing your location to Spencer, who turned his head to look at you, “Hey,” he said, still holding her upright even though his eyes weren’t on her.

“Hi,” you greeted back, unable to take your eyes off of the baby. More specifically, you were unable to take your eyes off of her costume.

You took a seat on the floor across from Spencer, who helped Mila off of her feet so that she could crawl to you, “Go see mama,” he urged her gently, watching as her tiny arms and legs carried her across the floor.

Once she reached you, she pushed herself up on your leg until you scooped her up, settling her in your lap and raising your eyebrows at him, “You know there’s a party going on downstairs.”

“I had noticed that, yes,” he answered, neatly folding the hood of Amelia’s costume and setting it in a pile.

Adjusting the bow on top of her head, you craned your head down and kissed the side of her head—she gurgled in response. “Did you know that they’re all here for you?”

Spencer smiled slightly, “I knew that too.”

Mila continued to babble while you looked at your husband curiously, “And yet,” you started, “You’re up here, putting her Halloween costume on while you should be at your birthday party.”

“I just wanted to see her in it,” he confessed, eyes flickering down at his daughter in her baby duck costume.

You had to admit, she was heart-achingly cute in the handmade costume. You were so happy when your mom brought up making the costume, not wanting to ask right out for it.

From the day she was born, Amelia was surrounded by family, you and Spencer made sure of it. She was cuddled up in the hospital with a blanket that Penelope crocheted. Even her nickname—Mila—had been granted to her by Derek’s daughter, who couldn’t quite swing the three-syllable name at the time.

There was a pit in your chest that was brought upon you by the symbolism of the costume, you often wondered what life would be like if your eldest sister was still around. You wondered what she’d think of your baby’s middle name—Rose—and if she’d think it was cool. “Hey, Spence?” You whispered, carefully standing up with Amelia in tow.

“Yes, my love?” He responded, following your lead and getting up off the floor, taking the baby from you, and changing her into pajamas.

You hummed behind him, taking the discarded costume and folding it up, placing it on top of the dresser until you needed it tomorrow. “Happy birthday,” you told him for the nth time today.

He smiled at you, resting Mila on his hip before he turned back to you, “Thank you.” Spencer leaned over and kissed you, the action receiving a coo from your daughter.

Laughing softly, you cupped her head tenderly, “It was a pretty good year, huh?”

Spencer pulled you into his side, you being held in one arm, and Mila in the other. “Yeah,” he murmured, “This one was definitely a favorite.”

Becoming a parent with Spencer was a dream come true, there was nothing you could think of that would top this year. Tilting your head back, you looked up at him, “So, what are you going to wish for this year?”

His gaze flittered down to the baby on his hip.

You shook your head immediately, “Pick something else,” you said, giggling at his silent suggestion. To you, it felt much too soon to think about another baby, and you knew Spencer was mostly joking. The two of you had previously decided on waiting.

Spencer sighed in response, looking between you and Mila, “More of this,” he answered, “The three of us, together.”

Raising your eyebrows, “Avoiding a party together.”

“As a family should,” he affirmed, beaming at you.

You were smiling so much that your cheeks ached, and you nodded your head in the direction of the door, “C’mon, there’s a cake downstairs with your name on it. Literally.”  

[leahsgirl]

casual | alessia russo x female reader

was it casual when it turned into more than a one time thing?

this has been in my drafts since july and i’ve only just got round to finishing it. if youse have any requests let me know!

_

you’re trying (and failing) to listen to leah’s tactical breakdowns in the locker room when alessia scurries in, late again. that was her thing these days, along with avoiding you like the plague while at training.

no matter what you did to try and interact with the blonde she’d always have an excuse to get out of the situation. you tried to not let it get to you, but when you go from not speaking to her laying in your bed every week - it’s bound to have its effect.

you look at the striker whose now sat on the opposite end of the room next to lotte and you scoff, annoyed at how a single night two months ago can cause such a rift between you both.

you was at a club, a local one you and your teammates regularly visited when there was something to celebrate - the occasion this time being arsenal winning the conti-cup.

katie and kyra had gone up to the bar to get some drinks while you and the rest of the group found somewhere to sit.

you remember wedging yourself next to beth at the end of the booth, leaning back against the leather as you listened in on the girls conversations. it wasn’t long before the irish and aussie duo came back with a handful of drinks and everyone raised their glasses “to arsenal, and stina for the winning goal!”

the alcohol kept coming and the music was only getting louder, you were sipping at your cocktail that you didn’t bother finding out what it consisted of when there was a dip in the seat. you looked to your side to see alessia, her hair was messy and her cheeks were a dark shade of pink - something that always happened when she got a little tipsy.

“come dance me with meee.” she leant forward so her face was practically inches from yours. you just laughed, “mccabe not a good dancing partner?”

alessia shook her head “i’m third wheeling her and caitlin.” she pointed to the pair on the dance floor who seemed to be in their own world.

you sighed “lead the way russo.” you wasn’t the biggest fan of dancing but you weren’t particularly bad at it either. either way, seeing alessia’s smile when you agree is always worth it.

the dance floor was packed and it was hard to move without accidentally catching someone’s arm or torso. alessia moved with ease next to you, singing along to the music. “show me your moves y/n” she leant in and spoke down your ear. her breath was hot and was enough to send your stomach flipping.

the pair of you danced to the beat, lessi’s arms wrapping around your waist. it wasn’t unusual for youse to be touchy-feely like this - it was a normal occurrence in your relationship, hence why you don’t take much notice when she moves her hands lower, stopping at the small of your back.

“i need some air.” the blonde pointed to the door and grabbed your arm, leading you through the sea of people and out into the cold london weather.

“you okay less?” you ask concerned to the girl who is now leaning against the brick wall. she nods her head and it’s silent for a moment.

you’re about to say something when she speaks up first. “your ex girlfriend,” she says, her voice low. “i never liked her y’know.”

you raise an eyebrow, clearly amused and a little caught off guard. “i know you didn’t,” you reply softly, a smirk playing at your lips. “you weren’t exactly discreet about it.”

alessia looks at you then, her gaze more intense than usual “i’m better than her.” she says suddenly and you’re now confused.

before you can even respond, her hand reaches out and gently cups the back of your neck, she pulls you in and suddenly her lips are on yours.

you’re momentarily stunned, because what the fuck. alessia is kissing you, your best friend, your straight best friend for that matter. it’s enough to make your head spin.

almost instinctively you kiss back, your hand finding her waist as she kisses with more urgency. she’s the one to pull back and you take the opportunity to catch your breath. “your place?” she whispers so only you can hear, aware more people have come outside for a cigarette.

the rational part of you is screaming no, not to give in to her, it’s only going to bite you in the ass. but there’s also that one voice, the one that reminds you that you’ve been hopelessly crushing on the striker since being on the england youth team, the one that tells you she must want you too if she’s asking such thing.

you’re too intoxicated to listen to your moral conscience and so you nod your head and soon enough your in the back of a taxi going back to your apartment.

and that’s how the cycle started. she’d come knocking at your door, most of the times the scent of liquor clinging to her, you’d go to the bedroom and discard clothes, she’d whisper sweet nothings into your ear and kiss down your body like you’re fragile, as if each touch may break you, but much enough tenderness to make you ache for more.

then by morning she’d be gone.

no explanation, no trace that she was physically there a few hours before. almost like she couldn’t wait to get out.

it’s even worse when your at home aimlessly scrolling through your socials and you see clips of her being posted with her holding a drink in hand while sitting on a random guy’s lap whispering down his ear, or when she’s getting too close for comfort with a stranger in the dance floor. you’d always end up throwing your phone down next to you out of frustration, willing at the knots that formed in your stomach to just go away.

it wasn’t until around the fourth time you tried to talk to her about it but it didn’t work. she’d have an excuse or say ‘can we talk about it later?’ when in fact ‘later’ never came.

you’d be lying if you said you wasn’t hurting from the whole thing, alessia was your closest friend, clinging to each other like you was fused at the hip and now you hardly get a nod off the girl.

leah concluded her speech and you got up off the bench, starting to make your way to the pitch for warm up drills.

you’re split into two groups and you’re running with the ball. everything feels normal until you catch a glimpse of blonde hair charging towards you, and before you can react alessia slides in hard. her boot colliding with your leg instead of the ball and pain shoots through your ankle, sending you sprawling on the ground.

“what the hell, less?!” you snap, taking laia’s hand to help you up, the anger bubbling to the surface.

for a moment you catch a slip in emotion from her, a slight furrow in her eyebrow before she’s back to hardly giving you the time of day “it was a clean tackle” she shrugged and ran back to her original position.

“russo, what was that about?!” jonas called from his position on the sideline not looking too pleased. alessia held her hands up in defence “went in too early my mistake.”

the swede shook his head, “be more careful, we don’t want more injuries.”

“what’s goin’ on with you two?” katie asked, appearing out of no where. you waved your hand in dismissal “god knows.”

the older woman looked between you both and hummed, not looking convinced. you can’t even blame her.

it wasn’t until everyone was getting into their retrospective cars about to head home that you was able to take your opportunity.

“alessia.” you hold up your hand for her to wait “can we talk?”

seeing that she didn’t really have any escape route other than to run you over (you’re glad she hadn’t gone that crazy yet) she sighed and leant an arm over her car door as she waited for you to get closer. “what’s up?”

“what’s up?” you mocked in disbelief. “what’s up is that you kiss me, come back to mine for sex” her eyes widened as you ranted, nervously turning her head in all directions to make sure no one was listening. “-make it into more than a one time thing, then ignore me like i don’t exist as well as nearly taking out my ankle.” you point to your foot where there is evident bruising and a small scrape. “it’s confusing.” you confess.

“it was a drunken mistake, i don’t get what’s confusing.”

you’re contemplating if she’s being for real right now because there’s no way she’s believing the words coming out her own mouth. “drunken mistake to the point it’s happened over ten times now?” you scoff at her comment. “listen alessia, i can’t keep doing this. it’s messing with my head, while it may be a drunken mistake to you each time, it actually means something to me and it’s clearly impacting us at work as well.” you feel a crack in the back of your throat and you’re annoyed at yourself for getting this emotional right now. “just figure out what you want before we both get hurt.”

you didn’t bother saying bye, you just turned back around and got into your own vehicle hoping she’d actually listen to you and take your advice.

_

it had been two weeks. well, two weeks and four days to be exact since yours and alessia’s carpark talk, and there had been absolutely no effort off the blonde to communicate with you. you stopped sort of hoping after a week, seeing how she was still giving you the cold shoulder.

one thing that did change though; she no longer rocked up to your place for a late night booty call.

you was at home, letting the warm water cascade over your body and giving you a temporary moment of relaxation. you was just so annoyed with yourself, if you never gave into her a couple of months ago all of this could of been avoided.

tilting your head back, you lathered the shampoo into your hair working through the knots and tangles. it’s fine you told yourself, if alessia’s decided she doesn’t want anything to do with you - you should move on too.

you hear a knock, only a quiet one but enough to kind of freak you out. this is why you hated showering when living alone - always a crippling fear someone’s out to murder you while you’re butt-naked.

maybe it’s just you hearing things, the insane heat and steam in the bathroom making you a little lightheaded. either way, you reasoned with yourself you should probably check it out and wrapped a towel around your body.

there was another knock so you know you’re not going crazy this time as you make it to the hallway. after a few twist and turns of your keys you opened the door ajar slightly.

“alessia?” the blonde was stood on the opposite side of the door sporting mismatched sweats, sunglasses and her hair that looked like its not been brushed in days.

“can i come in?” she sounded weak and your shoulders slumped involuntarily.

you opened the door just enough so she could squeeze in then closed it behind her. you saw how her eyes trailed down your body, a tiny smirk emerging. “nice outfit.”

for a second you forgot you was only in a towel and felt the blood rush up to your cheeks. “i was in the middle of showering.” you subconsciously crossed your arms across your chest. “what is it you want alessia? why are you here?”

the striker shifted her focus to her hands, fiddling with the rings and walked ahead of you so she was standing between your bedroom and living room.

“i’ve been thinking about what you said.” she turned around so she was facing you and moved the sunglasses so they was resting on her head instead. wait, had she been crying? “i’m sorry for being so awful to you.”

you let her continue, “i just- i’ve got all these feelings, feeling about you. and it’s scary y/n. i don’t know what to do with them, like i thought i was straight a few months back!” she said incredulously.

“and now?” you asked gently. you could see this was working her up.

“i don’t know.” she ran her hands through her hair. “i just like you and it terrifies me because i’ve already hurt you enough and most likely ruined our friendship.”

you placed your hand on her arm for comfort “you’ve not ruined our friendship less.” consoling the girl who now had tears welling.

“y/n i’ve been a dick to you.” she deadpanned and you couldn’t exactly disagree because she had been pretty rude.

“at least i know why now though. you’re confused i get it.”

alessia still couldn’t meet your gaze “i care about you, y/n. so much. but i don’t think i can keep pretending im ready for something i don’t understand. i thought maybe i could figure it out, but i don’t think im there yet.”

you stood there in silence for a moment, the reality of the situation sinking in. she wasn’t going to stay. she wasn’t going to fight for whatever it was youse had going on. and no matter how much you wanted her to, she wasn’t going to.

“okay.” you finally said, “if that’s what you believe.”

alessia let out a shaky breath, looking up at you “i’m sorry.”

without another word, alessia stepped forward, her hands gently cupping your face as she kissed you. her lips lingered on yours, soft and hesitant, like she didn’t want to let go but knew she had to.

you kissed her back, your hands resting lightly on her waist, feeling the weight of everything unsaid between you. when she finally pulled away, her forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing heavily.

“i’m sorry,” alessia whispered, her voice trembling. “i wish i could be what you need right now.”

you closed your eyes, ignoring the aching your chest was doing right now as you whispered back, "me too."

she pulled away completely then, taking a step back, her hands falling to her sides. for a brief moment, she hesitated, looking at you one last time before turning and walking toward the door.

as the door closed softly behind her, you stood there, feeling the sting of her absence, knowing that waiting for her wasn’t something you could do—not anymore.

the kiss had been a goodbye, even if neither of you had the heart to say the words out loud.

[space-blue]

Feyd thoughts from Fenring scene

I was sharing thoughts to a friend while rewatching the Feyd and Fenring scene and figured I'd share it here too, it's my blog innit.

He's walking on his own in a completely empty corridor. Upon being followed he ambushes and pulls a knife, meaning he immediately assumes he's in danger. Calm and collected attitude at this prospect, clearly not his first time.

But he also doesn't toy with her, doesn't threaten her beyond asking about her presence, he's not showing any sadistic traits.

He openly asks if they've met because he recognises her, isn't being coy.

Instead of being violent, he tells her the rules: 'You're not allowed in this section', meaning at least he knows not to be openly hostile to guests.

He's suspicious she got past the guards. He asks about that in a higher pitch, but extremely bland face. He doesn't sound upset or happy or angry. More like low key worried.

From there Margot uses the voice.

She reveals he's shunning his own celebrations, AND he refuses to say why despite being asked with suggestive voice.

He immediately recognises the use of the voice on him and calls her a Bene Gesserit. How? He doesn't answer when she asks what makes him say that. We have to keep in mind that his mother (who he killed) was BG, and since we don't know when she died, it's possible he received some training from her.

He instead says he dreamt about Margot, harkening back to Chani dreams from Paul. Meaning we can safely assume he's just as plagued with semi-visions as Paul was in Dune 1 before going to Arrakis, and we can safely assume that's not common knowledge.

Immediately goes 'Don't mock me woman' when she teases him. BUT crucially, she says "a pleasant dream I hope?" which is not mockery but closer to flirting? It's like he genuinely takes that as a literal tease, when the actual teasing is when she says "I wouldn't dare!" which he doesn't comment on, maybe because he's used to many forms of grovelling.

He also reacts as if the voice is a physical pressure, like when you come down on a plane and your ears get blocked, and tries to shake it off:

Again with 'I know your BG tricks'

Margot asks, again, and gets no reply, again. She even says "tell me" in a normal voice. There is no cut or weird editing afterwards, so we can assume that Feyd didn't answer either time he was asked.

Instead he takes his bearing and looks around. He is not aggressive or panicked when he admits to not recognising the place.

Dude is designed to blend into his surroundings. Bonkers he doesn't wear gloves at this stage.

Risk taking : he steps unprompted in the door entrance, and she then says "come to me, kneel," etc. BUT we know he KNOWS about the BG tricks, so we can suppose that he's actually making the decision to go in despite knowing full well she can and will control him.

There's plenty of hints that he may still be heavily under her charm, but there's also evidence he can resist the voice she uses on him (he never answers her repeated questions, tries to fight it off).

He never reacts agressively. He says "where are you going?" with some heat when she leaves though, which to me hints at loneliness. He was all alone avoiding every harkonnen under the moon on his birthday despite being the king of the night, meets a random chick he dreamt about, and now she leaves? Spiced suggested though he may ask because he's not used to people leaving without being dismissed. But imo these can blend.

I lean towards Feyd being quite resistant to the voice because they sent Margot in the first place. Yes, Mohiam wants a child made, but in her excuses, she does't say "I want him bred". Instead she says she's a motherly figure and he might have killed her because he killed his mom. If the voice was such a perfect tool of control, that wouldn't really be an issue, especially once you have him under the Gom Jabar.

There may be an element of "These men [Paul and Feyd] are one generation away from the KH and can't be toyed with carelessly".

He also killed his BG mother, which means he's capable of killing a sister and not any small fry.

So they send a sexy woman to woo him and yet she still has to ask multiple times about what he knows of the BG.

Regarding his dreams, it's also possible Feyd is so compliant and keen to follow Margot because he might have foreseen a freaky good time with her.

One is left to wonder if he looks at Mwaddib walking into the throne room with such intensity not because he's hot for him (he doesn't yet know it's Paul), but because he may have SEEN this scene in dreams. We know Paul was very affected by the spice in the air and food on Arrakis. We also know he made frequent false visions (Jamis helps but it ends up being Chani. Chani and him cut ambiguously in the killing scene. Seeing himself in Chani's place in the final combat scene...) So we can also imagine Feyd may be overconfident in taking in the Emperor's challenge because he's dreamt of this too. Just spitballing.

The BG call him a sociopath with a side of hollywood competency. He has a bit of the BBC Sherlock and Hannibal Lecter disease. He should not be as tame or as competent as he's described and shown if he had the full disorder.

It's very interesting to look at the Fenring scene with sociopathic traits in mind and see how they apply or don't.

He's not getting his need for validation avoiding the party, but he just survived an attempt on his life by his Dear Uncle before getting his freedom dangled in front of him. Lots on his mind.

He's not prone to anger outburst in general. His behaviour isn't very erratic either. Both of these classic traits were probably curb-stomped by the need to fit the mold imposed by the Na-Baron position.

But he definitely has a high sense of his superiority and is opinionated. He speaks up unprompted during the Baron's interview, and again behind the Emperor with 'he's bluffing'

High propensity for violence: check. Whole film, basically. He can be prompted by anger (against Rabban), perceived threat (arena), reactive/defensive (against Margot trailing him). Violence in reaction to fear isn't shown.

Difficulty maintaining relationships : the only people he seems fond of are his once shown, once mentioned pets he brings with him. His family relationships are what they are, and he has no friend to go to on his Birthday.

Generally fearful, vulnerable to anxiety and rejection, easy to humiliate : what a cincher. This is him reacting defensively to Margot's flirting. The BG say fear of humiliation is one of his levers, and if you give him a strong attachment to an honour code, it's very easy to manipulate.

IMO this feeds into his displays of vanity (black teeth, tailor made pretty pets). Also since black is seen as a rich and beautiful colour on their world, his all black outfits with clean cuts may not be as muted as we think they are.

the end... for now.

[iamnotoriginalphil]

She Said What (Melissa Schemmenti x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Seeing Gary get down on one knee shattered you. Tasting Melissa on your lips put you back together again.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: none

It was like taking a knife to the gut, twisting in your intestines, leaving you gasping for breath. You weren’t meant to be there. Eyes darting around the room, you were desperate for escape. You couldn’t breathe. One step back, then another, you fled down the hall before you could hear the answer.

Gary had asked Melissa to marry him. And you, like an idiot, had fallen completely in love with her.

When it had been nothing but a relationship, kept on the outskirts, it was easier. Avoiding the break room on Tuesdays, not asking about weekend plans or prying to much into her relationship, you could keep your friendship with her devoid of any details. It was easier that way. You couldn’t be plagued of thoughts of the two of them together. If you didn’t think about it, your jealousy couldn’t run rampant, ruining your friendship with her.

Now though…

You’d be seeing the ring on her finger. You might be invited to the wedding. She might change her last name. It would be everywhere, in your face, reminding you how the woman you love was not yours to love. That your chance with her had slipped away.

Career day was a bust and you needed escape and yet you were trapped in your classroom with the kids, praying the clock would speed up and you would have your freedom. Right now, Melissa was somewhere in the building, a new sparkly ring on her finger, joy in her heart, desperate to go home and celebrate with her new fiancé.

You felt sick at the thought.

The bell rung and you thanked the mechanic who had come to speak to your class, shaking his oil stained hand. Sinking down onto your chair, you buried your head in your hands, letting out a long breath. You would have groaned if not for being in a place anyone walking past could hear. All you wanted was to pack up your stuff and go home, curling up in your bed and letting yourself give in to the pressure building behind your eyes.

“You look like you’ve had a day about as good as mine.”

You startled, looking up from the hands your head was resting in. Melissa was walking into your classroom, hands thrust into the pockets of her leather jacket. You blinked, trying to rearrange your face into something celebratory, not the despair you’d been feeling all afternoon. Stretching your lips into a smile, you felt it stiffen as you looked at her.

“Hey,” you said, “congratulations. I saw the feed. It was a beautiful proposal.”

“It was,” she agreed, resting against the edge of one of the student’s desks, much as she had at the front of her classroom when Gary got down on one knee.

“You must be so happy,” you said.

“Not really,” she replied with a small shrug.

“Well, not when you’re here with me but I bet Gary is waiting at home for you to celebrate,” you said, offering her a sheepish smile.

“He better not be. I don’t need another restraining order,” she said.

“Ha, yeah,” you said, “wait, what?”

She quirked an eyebrow up at you. You had no ides what was going on, on the back foot of the conversation so quickly. When her lips quirked up, you lost any words to try and fix whatever situation you’d found yourself in.

“Hon, did you see my answer?” she asked.

“Of course I did,” you replied, laughing uncomfortably.

She sighed, shoulders relaxing, “I said no.”

“What?” That was not what you were expecting.

“I said no. You know I have no interest in being married again. He didn’t listen no matter how many times I told him. We want different things,” she said.

‘So you…?” You didn’t want to assume after your last assumption had gone so badly.

“We broke up,” she said.

“Oh, Mel, I’m so sorry.”

You made your way around your desk, perching beside her. You found her leaning against your shoulder, soft hair brushing against you as you curled an arm around her waist. Her head rested against you, shifting closer.

“It’s better we realised. No resentment, no cheating, no attempted murder. A clean break before anyone could get really hurt,” she said.

“Still, it sucks,” you said.

“Yeah, it does,” she sighed.

“I really am sorry,” you said.

“Really? I always got the impression you didn’t really like him,” she said.

You stiffened. She drew away from you, turning those beautiful green eyes onto you. You tried to stutter out an answer, to refute her claim, to lie right to her face. But there was nothing. No words came out and you were left staring at her, anxiety swooping in your stomach.

“You were never comfortable when I talked about him so I stopped but I always wondered what was wrong with him,” she said.

“Is that why you said no?” Guilt curled in your stomach.

“Of course not. I really don’t want to get married again. Once was enough. I guess I’m just curious what you saw in him,” she said.

“I didn’t really know him,” you said, offering her a non-committal shrug.

“But you didn’t like him,” she said, not bothering to phrase it as a question.

“It was nothing about him. I’m sure he was fine. Nice even. And you loved him. He wasn’t a bad guy as far as I could tell,” you said.

“He’s not. But I thought we were good enough friends that you’d be honest with me,” she said.

Guilt again, washing over you, wave after wave. She was still looking at you, a small lopsided smile both sad and hopeful. You sighed, leaning into her again, not wanting those eyes assessing you anymore.

“It wasn’t about him. I mean sure, I thought you could do better but it was more to do with me. I didn’t want that to get between us and ruin our friendship,” you said.

“Can’t you just tell me what the issue was?” she asked.

“I don’t think that will make you feel better,” you said.

She hopped off the desk, moving to stand in front of you. You swallowed past a lump in your throat, averting your eyes down to your hands clasped between your thighs. With a forefinger, she tilted your chin up until you were looking back in her eyes.

“I can handle it, hon,” she said.

“Mel,” you sighed, not sure how to finish the sentence.

“It can’t be that bad,” she said, “unless he was the man who mugged your nanna.”

“I don’t think he was,” you said, giving her a weak smile.

“So what is it?”

The finger on your chin was practically burning your skin. You took a deep breath, anxiety making your fingertips tingle and your stomach roil. She was still watching you and you couldn’t tell what emotion it was swimming in her eyes.

“I didn’t want to hear about your relationship because… because…” You squeezed your eyes shut, “because I was jealous.”

“Aw, hon, you’ll find your guy one day,” she said, gently nudging you in the shoulder.

That was not the answer you were expecting. You peeked over to her, her smile softened as she looked at you. You shook your head.

“Not of your relationship,” you said, shoulders slumping, not wanting to keep the secret after coming so close to telling her, “of him.”

“What?” she asked, her smile slipping for a moment.

“Mel,” you sighed, “I’ve been half in love with you for a while now. And I’m sorry that it didn’t work out with Gary because I don’t like you hurting. I don’t want you think this is me trying to swoop in the second you’re single. I’m not that unfeeling.”

The smile had completely left her face, eyes widening and the shock evident. You could only stare at her, waiting for some kind of reaction. Mostly you were waiting to be told to get the hell away from her and never speak to her again. Her hands landed on your knees, fingers digging in as she gripped you hard.

“Hon,” she said, voice catching and you squeezed your eyes closed again, waiting for the slap, “can you look at me?”

You opened your eyes again. She was peering into your face, eyes swimming with an emotion you couldn’t name. Her lips were quirked at the corners, just enough for your heart to begin beating double time. Hands slid further up your legs as she lent towards you. You didn’t know what was going on and you were scared to move. Frozen under her touch, all you could do was stare back at her.

“I wish I’d known. I wish you’d told me,” she said.

“Would it have made a difference?” you asked.

“Of course, hon. If I’d known…” She shook her head.

“It’s fine. I won’t make it weird. We can still be friends. It’ll be like you never knew,” you said, panic beginning to set in. You were desperate not to lose her in all of this. This was like your worst nightmare coming to life before your very eyes.

“I didn’t just break up with Gary because he wanted to get married,” she said, interrupting you before you could continue rambling your reassurances, “there was a part of me that knew I had feelings for you. He couldn’t be my miracle when there was someone else.”

“What?” You couldn’t comprehend what she was saying.

“I wish you’d said something earlier, hon. If I’d known then Gary and I would have never gotten to this point,” she said. Her hands were still moving further up your legs until they were holding your hips.

“I don’t understand,” you said.

“Hon, I’m saying I have feelings for you too,” she said, a smile breaking over her face, bright and heartbreaking and everything you’d wanted to see for so long, “I know this probably isn’t the right time to say it but you’re hot and I like you.”

“You just broke up with Gary,” you said.

“I did. Doesn’t change how I feel about you,” she said, shrugging.

“This is an emotional rollercoaster.” Your lips stretched into a smile, small and soft and the way she seemed to melt at the sight of it only had you reeling again, “isn’t this too soon?”

“Yeah, probably, so we’ll take it slow,” she said.

“Slow?”

“Look, I dunno how this is gonna go but I do know that I like you enough that I want to give this a go. I’ve been single for a few hours and I’m probably going to have to deal with stuff from ending my relationship with Gary so we’ll take it slow and figure it out together. Sound good?”

You thought about it, turning it over in your mind. You’d thought, in your wildest dreams, that if you were offered the chance to be with Melissa you’d grab it with both hands but coming right off the back of her break up it felt… tenuous. But giving it a chance might be the best thing you could do, if only to not have to think about the what if on your death bed.

“Slow sounds good,” you said.

She relaxed, as if she’d been bracing herself for rejection. The smile on her face grew more sure of itself, more playful as she lent in. You shivered when her breath hit your skin, and you looked up into sparkling green eyes. You felt your cheeks heat up under her gaze and blinked, trying to take in her beauty. Trapping your bottom lip between your teeth, you worried at it, breath frozen, watching her with wide eyes and racing heart.

“Must say, hon, you’re pretty cute when you’re nervous,” she said.

“Nervous?” you managed to squeak out, “I’m not nervous.”

“No?” she asked, drawing closer again, lips brushing the shell of your ear as she whispered, “are you sure?”

“Mel,” came out as a strangled noise, “this doesn’t feel slow.”

“Feels like I’m moving pretty slowly to me,” she replied, lips slow to press to your cheek.

A small noise came from your parted lips. She chuckled, drawing back far enough for you to see the way her eyes were smouldering as they focused in on your lips. You found yourself leaning toward her, drawn into her orbit, the gravity of her dragging you closer.

“I suppose one kiss isn’t so fast,” you murmured.

“I’m glad you agree,” she said.

Her lips pressed to yours, muffling a gasp. Arms wound around her neck, fingers burying themselves in red curls. Her fingers dug into your hips, hauling you closer until you were on the edge of the desk, her body caught between your thighs. Her tongue ran along your lower lip, teeth nipping when you moaned into her mouth.

If this was slow, you could get on board with it.

She drew back, making you whimper, fingers tightening on her hair. She placed one last chaste kiss to your lips before disentangling your fingers. The step she took back made you feel bereft before you reminded yourself that today wasn’t about you. You couldn’t imagine the emotional rollercoaster she’d been on that day. Your’s had been bad enough.

“Can we renegotiate this going slow thing?” she asked.

“No,” you laughed, no matter how much you wished you could, “we should go slow. I mean, what are your plans tonight?”

“Drinking wine until I don’t feel embarrassed that I turned down a proposal in front of Jalen Hurts,” she replied.

“Exactly,” you said, giving her an indulgent smile even as your heart raced.

She chuckled, shoving her hands into her jacket pockets, taking another step back from you. Your teeth sunk into your lip, swollen from her kisses, as you considered her.

“You might be onto something,” she said.

“But maybe, when the embarrassment has dimmed a bit, we can go out,” you said.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” she said.

“Great, well…” A smile was taking over your face, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I suppose you will,” she said.

Watching her back out of the room, all you wanted to do was reach out and pull her back to you. She paused in the doorway before she strode back to you, both hands cupping your cheeks and kissing you so thoroughly you lost any train of thought you might have been having. Nodding to herself, she turned her back on you, striding out. You watched her, dumbstruck, wondering how you’d somehow managed to get so lucky.

From the absolute travesty of seeing Gary propose to her to ending with the promise of a date and the taste of her still on your lips. You had no idea how you’d gotten so lucky.

[pearlzier]

⭒ㅤ𓈒ㅤׂ 🐾 ★

pairing : carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary : carm is fucking flabbergasted to hear you've never had a proper valentine's day, let alone a special meal. so he has to rectify it as soon as possible.

word count : 2.28k

tags: the bear, jeremy allen white, fluff, valentine's day, carmen berzatto, carmy berzatto, established relationship, awkward carm <3, BEST MAN EVER.

a/n: got this idea from @aliaugustaa, i thought it was so cute so i just had to do it :3 who needs an irl valentines when u have ur little chef man, making sure u know u deserve the best amiright.

it all started when carmen had overheard you, syd and tina talking. he'd been in his office, trying to get some work done with the door slightly ajar, considering the air conditioning in the room was shit, when the three of you had struck up a conversation. he hadn't paid much attention to it. he occasionally tuned into the sound of your voice, of course, but the details of the words you were saying remained mostly lost on him.

until he heard the mention of ‘valentine's day’ come from tina. fuck. if he had to be honest, it'd been years since he'd last.. celebrated? valentine's day? before you, he didn't actually have any reason to do anything for it. carmen avoided the day like the plague, actually, with the bare minimum being done in terms of heart themed menu times. but even he knew that you would've been expecting a valentine's gift from him, right? you two had been dating for what, nearly a year now, so he had to think of something.

that started his panic in terms of what he was going to get you. he had no fucking clue. but what took him out even more was your words, as you leant against the counter with your notepad: “valentine's day is so overrated,” okay.. “i haven't had a valentine since i was like, fifteen, and i'm perfectly fine.”

perfectly fine.

his blue eyes darted quickly to the calendar on his desk, fixing onto ‘february 14th’ almost instantly. he can't bite back a smile at the heart you'd drawn around the date, with ‘v-day’ scrawled messily on it. but all the cuteness aside, he had.. one week. he didn't need to do anything amazing for you, no, considering you did think the holiday was overrated, however he felt there was an unsworn duty for him to prove to you that you were special, and deserved the best.

he sorted the week that he had left into phases. there were four phases, all of them intricately, messily, planned to ensure you'd have a great day. and he'd managed to do all of it right under your nose.

of the four phases, first came the easiest one. slowly easing you into the idea of valentine's day. you weren't stupid, no, you were quiet observant and god knows you would've picked up on any new behaviours from your boyfriend, so he had to try to integrate the day of love into work first.

convincing everyone to mention valentine's day, not obsessively, but repetitively to try get it into your routine wasn't difficult. it was a restaurant, for god's sake, of course they'd have some sort of valentine's menu, right?

so he got marcus to start making some particularly love themed desserts — “uh, sure. don't mind it.” you hadn't seemed to pay much attention to the ginormous order of cupid stickers out back, which worked heavily in his favour.

“yo, cousin, don't worry. she'll be walkin’ ‘round with the whole ass arrow by the time i'm done,” — richie was just as eager to get you in a lovey-dovey mood, with his passing comments about how eva was a total bachelorette and that all the kids in her class were gonna be throwing presents onto her desk.

there was no way to tell whether that was true or not. no one really asked.

“hey, cool, i'm feeling it,” — tina was also happy to help, being overly lovey with you around the restaurant. it was quite unlike her, but still, you didn't mind the affection. little hugs, forehead kisses from dear aunt tina weren't that bad.

“she's gonna realise that we're going overboard,” — syd was the most reluctant. she'd have much rather told you about what they were doing, as opposed to keeping it a secret. however carm was good at convincing her, and it was for a good cause too. so, she let it slide, pushing the valentine's agenda with little doodles of cupids or hearts on her menu designs. you liked them.

so that was phase one done. pretty simple, if carmy says so himself. and you didn't mention anything about it. perfect. he felt a little weird keeping something from you, but, of course, it was a good cause, right?

with phase one completed, he had to move onto phase two. this one was probably his second favourite of all of them. bringing valentine's into the house. valentine's day was all about love. he loves you, of course. it was the reason why he was doing all of this in the first place. so he thought the best way to do this phase was to get you in the mood.

you were very clearly confused by the romcom that was playing on the tv screen when he ushered you into the living room, but you didn't ask many questions considering how tired you were. “carm,” you began, brow furrowing, before you shrugged, moving over to settle on the couch. tilting your head over to the direction of the kitchen, your eyes found carmy bringing over the chinese takeout. it'd been a while since you two had indulged in it, but he knew full well it was your favourite. “you're the best,” his smug little smile told you a lot, but not about his little scheme and its phases.

“i know, babe,” he hums, bringing over the tray and settling it onto the coffee table. carmen shuffled over, settling onto the couch beside you, gently lifting your box onto your lap before he took his own. it wasn't unlike him to take care of you like this, but there was something more tender in how he was helping you. sweet, yes, but it was making you a tad bit suspicious. “you okay?” he asked softly, voice gentle and low, as a small little smile played on his lips.

“mhm,” you nodded, just snuggling beside him with the takeout box in your grasp. you two usually didn't watch romcoms, usually finding a good drama or sitcom however you didn't mind it. this one in particular was quite good.

and besides, carmen having his arm slung around your waist as you two ate was a perfect feeling. so despite your suspicions, you let him have this moment without asking him.

that was phase two done. not too shabby, really. richie and, actually, literally everyone in the bear was a tad bit sick of carmen's rambling about how amazing you were. they literally all knew it, since you were their colleague, but god, could this man talk.

the third phase was one that carmy realised perhaps should've come earlier. it was just getting you things that you liked, without you realising. which was harder than it sounded, considering carmen was shit at keeping things from you, and you were usually the one who looked at orders to the apartment. so he needed the help of his sister, natalie. she was so eager to help that it was a little overwhelming. “so what do they like anyway?” natalie asked as she pushed the cart beside carmen, eyes flickering over to his in curiosity. “bear?”

he was uh, stressing. he loved you so much, and—well, “god, sugar, i love her—” he ran a hand through his curls, eyes widening as soon as he saw the giant valentine's day display in the store. a quiet groan slipped past his lips and he bit his knuckles for a moment, glancing desperately over at his sister. “peach deserves the fuckin’ world, y'know? just wan’ make it special for her,” the pity, and adoration, in natalie's gaze softened her eyes immediately and she gave him a quick pat on the back.

“right,” it was her personal mission now to ensure that you and her brother had a perfect day on valentine's. she was sure of it. a small little grin played on her lips as she ushered him over to the display, and she leant against the cart. “okay, what would she like? something lovey? sentimental?”

“don't fuckin’ know,” carmen muttered under his breath, rubbing his temple as he looked over the many valentine's themed things available. holy shit, this was harder than he thought. he knew you so well and yet, what you'd like evaded him.

“okay, well,” natalie picks up a random white teddy bear, brows raising in question as she offers it to her brother. he grabs at it, squeezes it perhaps a little too hard out of frustration but slowly relaxes his tight grip on it. “okay, that one's going in.”

the shopping trip continued like this, with natalie suggesting things that she thought you might like, with carmy giving his wordless responses. it was kind of therapeutic for nat, to be fair. and carmen was getting the stuff he needed for you. he'd have to thank natalie after, considering soon after he was done with phase three, he was into the final phase. the actual valentine's gift.

this was probably his favourite part. of course, carmen was a chef by nature. so he knew a valentine's dinner was in order. he was sort of sick of hearing anything related to the saint, however he could relax with this part. he'd made sure that syd would keep you out of the apartment for at least three hours. having even gone to the lengths of giving money for you guys to spend, he was clearly working hard. he knew your palette, so well in fact, that he didn't even think twice about what he was preparing.

from what you loved to eat, to what you despised, carmen knew it all. and he wanted to spoil you in terms of what he made, so he also gave sydney strict instructions that the two of you weren't allowed to get any food. hey, he wanted you to have enough room to eat.

he'd planned everything immaculately, of course, but when he heard you and syd at the door, he almost panicked. the table was laid out perfectly, all of your favourite foods available. a flush filled his cheeks at the thoughts of richie's previous words: “shit, cousin’, you a fuckin’ simp,” rang through his head and he scratched the back of his neck nervously, sitting at the table.

“thanks, syd,” your voice called from down the hall at the door, your smile evident in your voice. it made the butterflies in his stomach flutter, and he shifted where he sat. “m'back, carm!” you were making your way down the hall now, nearing the living room where you assumed he'd be. he was not. “carm—?”

your brow furrowed, since he'd have mentioned he'd be out if he was going to be. “carm,” you hummed as you wandered into the dining room area, not looking into the room until you did, and your lips parted into an expression of shock. “holy shit.”

you're surprised you didn't burst into literal tears seeing carmen sat at the table, wide blue eyes lifting to yours from the table cloth. his cheeks were rosey, a sheepish expression adorning his lips. “fuck, this is dumb,” he got up, scratching the back of his neck once more, “i know you don't—oh, shit, peach—”

his eyes widened as you barelled into him, wrapping your arms around his frame as his hands slid over your lower back. biting his bottom lip, he lifted a hand to your face, just to see your expression. “oh my god, carm,” tears threatened to spill from your eyes, bottom lip trembling. carmen's expression only softener, and grew a tad bit guilty.

“oh, no, baby, don't cry,” his thumb stroked over your jaw, brow furrowing. carmen soon pressed a peck to your forehead, his hand cupping your lower back and bringing you into his body. “can't eat ‘n’ cry at the same time,” he soothed with a soft chuckle whilst he cradled the back of your head.

“so this is what you were doin’?” your mumbly words come all soft, watery, glossy eyes lifting up to his as you frown. you may be about to cry, sure, but it's for a good reason. “all this time? oh my god, is it because of what i said to syd and tina?”

a sheepish nod followed, his hands brushing away your tears gently. he smiled, nuzzling your nose with his own as he brushed his lips with yours, squeezing you tight against his chest. “uh-huh,” he muttered, “didn't notice earlier?”

“nuh-uh,” god, you felt kinda dumb for not realising. but also glad you didn't, since you wouldn't be as overjoyed as you are right now. you squeeze tight around his waist once more before you drag him back into sitting down. hey, you were hungry considering his little scheme. “god, carm,” you bite your bottom lip, looking over all the food. not to mention the valentine's themes decorations.

“so everyone was in on it?” you lean against the table, watching as carmen dished out your plate for you, his blue eyes lingering on the food before they lifted to yours when he heard your question. he gives a little nod, pushing your plate towards you. then, he pours you a glass of wine, all smiles. “god, that's why—oh my god!”

giddy, absolutely giddy, would describe you right now. over the fucking moon.

“and when you and nat went out? you guys never go out, holy shit,” you grabbed your fork, leaning against the table with a little smile. that smile soon became the biggest grin he'd ever seen. “babe, this is too much,” you frowned, gaze all fond.

“wait till you see the gifts,” he mumbled around a spoonful of pasta, avoiding your gaze and focusing on his plate.

“carmen!”

[platinumshawnn]

Bound by Blood and Fire | Benjicot Blackwood - pt vii

Synopsis: On the morning of the much-anticipated wedding, the feud between the Brackens and Blackwoods comes to a head, leaving everyone on edge. Benjicot’s first day as a husband sees him as the acting Lord of Raventree, as Samwell heads to the Redfork to confront the Brackens despite Benjicot's eagerness to go on his houses' behalf. Nonetheless, Serra and Benjicot celebrate a successful wedding.

masterlist | playlist | backwards | forward

A/N: hi sorry this is late, I wanted to make sure ch 7 was done as well as I could physically manage it but will probably come back and edit more later. also, sorry again if it’s a mess, I’ve been busy getting ready to move back to uni which depletes me of any last will to live every time <33 also peep the special edition banner lol

Content Warning(s): MDNI — 18+, adult language, mentions of blood, violence, and war; era related sexism and gender based harassment/discrimination, sexual content (i.e. m/f smut), mild depictions of family based violence, implied suicide ideation -- basically drama and porn idk

Word count: 17.5k

She did not like to describe them as nightmares — vivid and coming at her too fast it left her dizzy, but sometimes she did not know any other word for the dreams that kept her awake at night, plagued by images of her mother. Sleep had been a fleeting thing the past two nights, Serra’s head pounded and she felt nauseous that morning when she woke after a dream of her soft face, sad as she had cupped her daughter’s young face, only to be torn away by the Stranger in death — they had previously only happened every other moon, giving her a break at least. But they had been relentless as of late, never allowing her more than an hour of rest, leaving her aching for her mother to soothe her like a child when she woke. She had sobbed the first night after her kiss with Benjicot, just as she normally did. By the third night, she was drained and had no more tears left in her body to shed. 

She wanted to speak to Kermit about it, just as she always had, but he seemed to be avoiding her since that day in the yards — his face still ingrained in her memory, angry and disgusted as she knelt by Benjicot, tending to the wounds he had inflicted. It seemed Benjicot was too, as she hadn’t seen much of him since. 

The few times she saw him were only when it was necessary and he had no choice but to sit across from her at the table during breakfast and dinner, but he avoided her eye. The most she had gotten was a subtle shake of his head when she had stopped, seeing him training alone with a wooden doll in his usual spot; Ser Alistair at her side and dragging her away too, his eyes darting towards something above her — she assumed by the defeated expression, it was her eldest brother by the clench of his jaw. 

The room smelled of lavender, thick with the scent from the several bunches that had been brought in and placed strategically around the chamber as she was dressed in the meantime. Her eyes were closed as her handmaidens continued to flit around her like a group of nervous birds; busy with the last touches to her dress fixing the red and blue maiden cloak around her shoulders and fixing her hair — she swore she had felt fingers on her neck, startled by their cool touch as her necklace was twisted, a soft hum of hushed voices around her. 

Her head turned, whipping towards the sound of where a distant voice had come from, her eyes finding Grace, who looked at her with a concerned gaze, “My lady?” She asked. 

Serra froze, delirious with exhaustion she presumed as she let out a sharp exhale, turning to look away, “Sorry, I…” she stammered. “I thought you said something.” 

“I asked if you slept well last night,” Grace replied, touching her shoulder. 

“No,” she admitted. “Sleep has not come easy these past nights.” 

Grace smiled, small and sweet as she stepped in front of her — it was a weird thing to no longer have Orpheus at her feet, mulling over her, “Wedding day nerves?” She softly asked. 

She let out a short laugh, tired and strained, “I suppose so.” 

Her handmaiden looked down, smiling as she fixed her cloak’s clasp one last time, “You’ve nought to worry about, my lady.” 

“And why is that?” She asked, looking down at her. 

The girl shook her head, smiling, “I’ve seen the way Lord Benjicot looks at you.” She simply replied as though it was the most obvious thing. The words confused her because as far as she remembered, it was not — her mouth opened to reply, but she was silenced by the soft knock against her door.

She turned as it slowly crept open to reveal her father, who scanned the room with his eyes as he entered, slower than usual and visibly uncertain of his presence there. 

Serra was nothing less than radiant in her wedding gown, the deep red silk contrasting beautifully against her skin. Her auburn hair, a trait she had inherited from him, had been painstakingly woven into an elaborate braid, adorned with small, delicate pearls. But it was her eyes, so full of uncertainty and quiet resolve, that held his gaze.

“Father,” Serra said, her voice soft but steady. She inclined her head slightly, a gesture that made Elmo’s heart swell with both pride and sorrow.

“Serra,” Elmo replied, his voice more gruff than he intended. He cleared his throat, stepping forward to take her hands in his. “You are… you look every bit the lady I always knew you would become.”

Serra’s lips curved into a small, wistful smile. “Thank you, Father.”

There was a pause, a brief moment of silence where neither spoke. Elmo searched for the right words, something to ease the tension he knew she must be feeling, but he found himself at a loss. What could he say that would comfort her when he felt the sting of the day so acutely?

“I know this is not easy,” he finally managed, his voice low. “But you are strong, Serra. Stronger than you think. And this marriage… it will bring much-needed peace to the Riverlands. That is something to be proud of.”

Serra nodded, her eyes downcast for a moment before meeting his again. “I know, Father. I understand what this marriage means for our house, for all the houses of the Riverlands.”

Elmo squeezed her hands, then released them, stepping back slightly. “Are you ready?”

Serra hesitated, glancing toward the window where the ancient trees of the godswood could be seen in the distance, their black leaves whispering in the wind. She took a deep breath, then turned back to him with a more confident expression.

“Yes, I’m ready.”

Elmo smiled, a fleeting expression that quickly gave way to something more sombre. He extended his arm, and Serra took it, her grip firm and steady. The hallways were quiet, the only sound was the soft rustle of Serra’s gown against the stone floor as they descended the stairs and approached the entrance to the godswood, Elmo could feel the change in the air. The cool breeze carried with it the scent of earth and leaves, a reminder of the ancient roots that held Raventree Hall in its grasp.

When they reached the edge of the godswood where the two sons of Elmo Tully and Samwell waited along with Maester Edric, their eyes turned to watch as Lord Elmo Tully led his daughter forward. At the centre of it all stood Benjicot Blackwood, dressed in the dark colours of his house, his young face set in a mask of calm reserve.

Elmo felt Serra’s grip on his arm tighten as they approached Benjicot, and he gave her a reassuring pat. When they reached the heart tree, the weirwood’s blood-red leaves rustling above them, Elmo turned to face his daughter one last time.

“Who gives this bride?” Lord Samwell asked. 

“I, Lord Elmo Tully, of House Tully, give Serra Tully, my one and true daughter, to Benjicot Blackwood of House Blackwood in marriage.” 

Her hand shook as his arm slowly slid away from hers, fighting the urge to reach out for her father and drag him back to her side as he stepped back. She looked back at him, eyes wide and scared as he gave her an encouraging nod -- she looked straight ahead, facing the large weirwood tree that hung dead over them, Benjicot’s back still to her. She sucked in a deep breath and exhaled -- once, two, thrice before she slowly approached him, her feet sinking into the earth with each step. It was then that she noticed Benjicot’s head was lowered, bowed to the tree with his eyes closed as his hands remained clasped behind him -- she looked up at the Weirwood, its face staring back at her, horrifying and sobbing. 

“Do you, Serra Tully, take this man?” 

She hadn’t realised she had been standing there, in a daze and lost in thought until Lord Blackwood’s voice drew her back to reality. She looked down from the tree, looking at him and finding those familiar dark eyes that held such intensity, she had to force a breath inwards -- Benjicot’s head lifted, turning to look at her, “I take this man.” She echoed. 

There was a moment of silence, Benjicot’s hand emerging from underneath his cloak to extend to her and waiting expectantly for hers; steady and confident as she looked at it. She finally lifted hers, her right in his left, palms pressed together and fingers laced -- his touch felt searingly hot against hers as she was guided to a kneeled position, moving her cloak back with her free hand to prevent herself from getting tangled in it as she sunk to the ground. The ground beneath her was damp from the rain, soaking through the white dress that had been meticulously chosen for her. 

Benjicot’s head bowed again, lowered and looking towards the ground as he took a deep breath, closing them again. She watched him from the corner of her eye, swallowing thickly before she mirrored his actions and lowered her head, her eyes however open and fixed on her lap. She could hear Samwell’s voice from the day prior still, explaining the ceremony to her step-by-step so she didn’t make a fool of herself, the breeze the only noise that passed through them. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling as Samwell gently laid a hand against the crown of her head for a moment, along with that of Benjicot’s, withdrawing after a moment. She did not know what prayer to offer at that moment, her thoughts still racing as she tried to slow her breathing -- she could only imagine what Benjicot’s only silent plea was as she fought for a word of prayer to come to her. 

Mother above, guide my heart and his in this union. Bless us with love, patience, and understanding, that we may grow together in harmony and strength. Grant me the wisdom to be a worthy partner to him, and the courage to face whatever trials may come. May our bond be as unbreakable as the vows we speak today, and may we find joy in each other’s company, now and always. I ask this humbly, with hope and faith in the path before us.

The silence lasted too long for her comfort as she finished her prayer, peering towards Benjicot again in her peripheral vision. His head rose after a moment, not daring to look at her yet as he opened his eyes, looking up at the tree -- he seemed to feel her stare on him as his head turned slightly, just enough to catch her eye and subtly raise an eyebrow at her. His eyes darted up as a way to gesture to her to stand before he slowly pushed up from his knees, Serra fumbling to follow him to her feet — his hand steadied her, still holding hers as she clutched her dress with her free hand. 

He released her hand as they stood, turning to face one another. Benjicot’s hands lifted to her chest, his knuckles brushing her skin as he unfastened the clasp of her cloak; her eyes fixed on his face and watching the look of concentration that etched itself into his features -- his movements were cautious, careful not to damage it as he unclipped it and slowly slid the cloak from her shoulders, finding her eyes as he pulled it towards him. He looked away, holding the cloak out to her father who stepped forward to gather it, turning to look at her again. Samwell held out a cloak that resembled Benjicot’s, large and of their house colours — it was daunting to look at, unsure if it would fit her or leave her swimming in its fabric as Benjicot lifted it, holding it in front of her and shaking out the fabric — he swung the fabric up and around her, letting the cloak rest against her spine and enveloping her shoulders. The cloak was heavier than her own, a thick wool that would keep her warm amidst the rainy weather, rough against her fingers as she fisted it; her head lowered. She avoided his eyes as he fastened the cloak around her shoulders — his hand nudged her chin as he withdrew, encouraging her to look up at him again. 

A gentle breeze blew through the Godswood, the silence filled by the distant sounds of ravens that seemed to constantly hover over the estate, his hands moving to cup her face — his hands were hot against her cheeks, gentle in handling her and holding her gaze. Her attention was drawn to the freckle on his forehead, down to the scar on his nose, his mouth that lingered close to hers but not yet touching, igniting reminders of the memory of his kiss in her room days earlier; though there was a restraint that was not there the time before, hesitating. 

Benjicot leaned forward finally to close the gap, her eyes fluttering shut as his mouth found hers in a kiss that was slow and sweet; tame in comparison to the ones she had the memory of, exploratory and shy as his lips melded into hers. A warmth spread throughout her chest and limbs until it radiated to her fingertips, her heart rate increasing with nervous excitement as she instinctively reached up to touch his cheek. 

Serra withdrew when she felt a trickle of rain land against her brow, her head tilting to look upwards towards the grey skies, covered in thick, full clouds that threatened to downpour -- Benjicot’s eyes followed hers for a moment, scanning the sky before he looked down at her again. When she looked back at him, she was met by a shocking tenderness that she didn’t recognise in him, his mouth pressing into a small, lopsided smile. 

His eyes briefly darted towards where his father stood in front of them, looking to his wife then. She let out a startled yelp as he moved forward, sweeping her off her feet by hoisting her over his shoulder; her hips pressed against him, knocking the wind from her lungs for a moment as her right hand flung out towards his back -- she felt him sway as he adjusted his stance, bouncing her slightly over him so he could adjust her positioning as well, her eyes stuck on his heels. 

She heard a low snort, quiet and unable to source who it belonged to as the ground beneath them moved; swaying with each step he took towards the house. Her father reached out to touch her shoulder as they passed, Benjicot’s body shaking with a laugh as her father uttered a soft, “Don’t drop her please.” 

Serra was terrified to move or squirm as he walked, his cloak clutched tight in her hands as if somehow that would help break her fall if she slipped off; struggling to breathe with his shoulder pressed into her stomach. She watched as his feet led them inside, the dirt path covered in a layer of leaves that crunched under every step, the rain beginning to pick up -- the men who had joined them in the Godswood followed in silence behind them, her head briefly lifting to find her brothers, her father, and Samwell in tow. The doors were opened for them as they returned inside the grand halls of Raventree, the halls lit and lined with guards and staff who waited for their arrival -- she counted the pairs of feet as they passed, her eyes lifting every so often to catch the odd look of subtle amusement from a young guard or the giddy smile of a handmaiden as he carried her towards the hall. 

They arrived to open doors, the room already lined and filled with several men and women from the Riverlands; other highborn noble couples, lords, and their children. It was only then did she feel him crouch and let her down, her feet making contact with the floor as he slowly placed her down. She stumbled back a step, red-faced and flustered as she quickly fixed her dress, steadied by a hand of his around her elbow and looking ever so proud of himself as he grinned at her -- she let out a breathy laugh, wide-eyed. A sudden chorus of applause erupted within the room, her head whipping around to face the room that welcomed them, lit and basking in the warm glow of the lighting of the ornate chandelier that hung over the rows of tables; Benjicot’s hand finding her back and sliding up her spine as he moved to stand beside her. 

Serra could not remember what it was like to attend a wedding under the old gods -- the few she had attended had been in her childhood, whilst most of the ones she attended in her life were of cousins and relatives who followed the Seven -- but it stunned her how extravagant and beautiful the tradition was, the familiar house colours of burgundy, silver and grey lining the walls; the streamers and banners of their sigil reaching every corner of the space. The tables were lined by gold silverware and utensils, the smell of wine and food wafting towards her and overwhelming her senses as she blindly found his free hand and held it. 

“I hope it is all to your liking,” He quietly said, leaning into her side. 

She admired the candlelit room, the faintest hint of the dwindling sunset casting in through the window that overlooked the hall; the familiar symbol of House Blackwood over the head table at the front of the room, “And more.” She replied, eyes sweeping over the crowd once more. She looked up at him with big, doe-like eyes and smiled wide, his expression softening with a look of adoration. 

“Good.” 

Serra was startled by the sudden announcement as Samwell joined them, his voice loud and carrying to every corner as Benjicot guided her forward and in the direction of the head table that awaited them;

“Presenting Benjicot Blackwood, heir to Raventree Hall and scion of House Blackwood, and his bride, the Lady Serra Blackwood, daughter of House Tully. Let all bear witness to this union, a bond forged in honour and sealed in love, uniting the ancient houses of Blackwood and Tully!” 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Benjicot was never much of a dancer. 

He did not particularly enjoy it, although he knew a few basic dances as had been expected of him; it was not something he ever found himself eager to do so willingly. In fact, in his twenty years and as a man, he had only found himself on the dancefloor if it was by his father’s order and he had no other choice — he lacked the grace for it, all long limbs and clumsy as he had to think hard about every step. 

It was an embarrassment, he assumed, for a highborn man to not know much beyond basic steps — but even as a boy, he had gotten strange looks, watching as he struggled through each dance and having to consciously count himself through the steps without tripping over himself. He knew he looked ridiculous doing it, and despite that he was not keen to admit it, he was a prideful man who did not enjoy putting himself in a position to make a fool of himself if he could help it. 

He relented though for Serra’s sake, unable to find it within himself to deny herself the little pleasure of three dances when they had first arrived; despite cringing at the thought while she looked at him with big eyes, pleading and childishly excited — she had tried to conceal it, but there was no denying the giddiness when he had reluctantly agreed and been pulled immediately towards the dance floor. He had hurried back to his seat as soon as he could as he had met his part of their deal, leaving her to Emrys, who had swept in immediately and asked for a dance himself; Benjicot didn’t have the heart to object, because he trusted her, and he trusted his cousin to know his limits. He quietly sat at the head table, nursing a chalice of wine that he slowly sipped, his eyes fixed on the dance floor and watching slowly as the drunken stupor of wine took hold of the guests as the band continued, the sound of joyous laughter and discussion present over the soft lull of music as Lord Elmo and his father conversed among themselves with Benjicot sat between the two men  — even his father who did not care for the taste of wine had taken to indulging himself to a couple of cups. 

“I do not mean to interrupt, my Lords,” Maester Thaddeus said as he approached the men from behind, appearing between Benjicot’s chair and his father’s on his right as the conversation ceased. 

“Then do not,” Samwell said, visibly already annoyed by his presence as he waved him away and looked back to Elmo who raised an eyebrow.  

“It is urgent.” 

Samwell froze, sighing and looking up at him again, “Very well,” he replied. “What is it?” 

He stuttered a moment, “I’d first like to offer my congratulations to the young Lord Benjicot on his union of course,” he said, earning a tight smile from Benjicot. 

“Thank you, Thaddeus,” He replied. 

The elderly man nodded, a forced smile on his face — however, he sensed there was more to the conversation as he glanced between him and his father, “I have also come as there has been news from the borders— there have been more men spotted near the boundaries again…”

Benjicot frowned, looking at his father. 

“—This is hardly the time for this conversation, Thaddeus,” Samwell muttered, his voice sharp with irritation as he lifted his drink to his mouth.

“—Amos Bracken among them.” He added. 

His father stilled, the chalice at his mouth frozen in time as he then lowered it to the table and turned his head again, “Amos has joined them?” 

“It seems so, my Lord,” Thaddeus admitted, 

His father let out a gruff hum, the news hanging over them as he brought his wine to his lips and downed its content in silence; eyes turning to look over the crowd of guests and friends who were blissfully oblivious to the news, “Let me go.” Benjicot pleaded, leaning towards his father, “I can be there within less than an hour on horseback. I can take Emrys and Henry, we can provide support to Davos and his men—”

“And repeat the mess you made last time?” Samwell snapped, looking at him then. 

Benjicot hesitated, “No.” 

His father contemplated his answer, staring at him and setting his empty chalice down, “No, Benjicot.” He finally said, looking away. 

“Why not?” 

“Because I said so,” He answered quickly. “You are hardly married yet, your marital bed still cold and untouched, and you would sacrifice yourself to Amos Bracken before your wedding night is over?” He asked, dumbfounded by the suggestion and turning his head to look at him with a frown. 

He swallowed, glancing towards the room as it dawned on him that there was more to consider than just throwing himself to the wolves of battle — he had grown so used to carelessly throwing himself into these waters, that he had forgotten to consider his new wife, “I can come right back— go there and confront him, I can be back before midnight—”

“Benjicot, you have duties here,” Elmo said. “I admire your enthusiasm, I do, but your duty is here with Serra.”

“—and I will perform my duty, I assure you,” He insisted, “but this was my doing, let me go and put things right back as they were. Let me fix the mess I have made.” 

“Your father and Lord Elmo are right, Benjicot,” Thaddeus said, interrupting him before he could utter another word. His eyes darted between the three men, blindingly rapidly, “that brings me to the second matter at hand.” 

“But…” 

Samwell reached over quickly and grabbed his wrist on the table, silencing him and only shaking his head, “What is it, Thaddeus?” 

“There is the matter of the bedding ceremony,” He suddenly said. 

Lord Elmo choked on his drink, practically throwing his cup down and eyes bulging as he coughed — Kermit, from his left, grabbed his shoulder and grabbed the napkin in front of him. It had been the first time Benjicot had even noticed the eldest Tully son, making eye contact briefly as Benjicot shoved his chair back to avoid the spill of wine, his hands flinging up, “Shit,” Benjicot exclaimed. 

“Sorry,” Elmo coughed, “I apologise— pardon me. There will be no bedding ceremony.” 

Samwell let out a sudden snort of laughter, earning a series of shocked expressions as he wiped a dribble of wine from his chin that he had accidentally spit out while laughing at Elmo’s horrified expression — the conversation had never risen before this moment, a tradition that Samwell himself had participated in as a young man on his wedding night. He had neither had this conversation with Benjicot, as it had slipped his mind in the days leading up to the wedding but he had expected a better reaction from Lord Tully. Benjicot looked at his father, a frown etched deep into his features as he set his chalice down. 

“I will not have a dozen overweight, elderly men in the room with my daughter to watch her…” Elmo muttered, disgusted by the idea as he stammered, “engage in the marital act.”

Samwell laughed again, bringing his cup to his mouth for another sip, “I do not see what is so funny about this, Samwell.” Elmo said, turning to look at him. “I find the whole bedding ceremony utterly repulsive.” 

Lord Blackwood shook his head and held up a hand, still chuckling as he swallowed his drink and set the cup down again, “Forgive me, Elmo, I…I do not mean to offend you.” He sincerely said, his voice low and quiet. “I just assumed you were a man of tradition, given your house’s reputation.” 

“Not that one.” He readily snapped. “Do you not recall how mortified Alannys was? Serra is too fragile for that, I could not subject her to that.” 

“Oh, I have never forgotten.” Samwell smiled, leaning into the table with his elbows and clasping his hands together as though he was praying; his knuckles pressing to his mouth as he eyed the Lord Tully, “It is only a mere suggestion, right, Thaddeus?” He asked, his eyes lit up with amusement as he looked to the maester who stood over them. Thaddeus hesitated, glancing between the two men before he offered a reluctant nod. 

“It is…optional I suppose,” He slowly said. “It is just a precaution as a means to ensure the marriage is properly consummated.” 

He reached across towards where Benjicot sat, grateful that his sister had whisked the young bride away, as his hand clasped his son’s broad shoulder with a firm squeeze, “I do not doubt that my boy here will be able to fulfil his duty, isn’t that right, Benjicot?” 

The young man avoided his gaze as he stared at the table, sighing deeply and squeezing his eyes shut for a moment; humiliated enough as was, he heard Kermit let out a quiet snort while he too looked away. His eyes briefly glanced across the table, looking up through his lashes towards where Elmo grimaced and rolled his eyes — his father let out a final chortle, “There is no need to make more of a spectacle of the young bride and groom, no need to further embarrass them.” Samwell said, waving his hand dismissively and standing up from his chair. The maester nodded, still wary as he stepped back. 

Benjicot watched as he scanned the room in search of Serra, soon finding her all flushed cheeks and smiles as she laughed, the pair at an appropriate distance as they danced — the sight could have bothered Benjicot, but he was comforted by her smile, relaxing in his seat. She appeared at ease — he assumed the blush on her face was in part from the wine as her head tipped back in laughter. His father waved towards Alysanne who stood in a nearby corner of the dance floor, her dark eyes lifting to catch the movement and standing up and away from the wall to gently push her way towards his wife. 

After a whisper in her ear, Serra nodded, still breathless and smiling wide as she politely thanked his cousin for their dance before retreating with Alysanne from the floor. The two women quietly spoke as they walked towards the doors that exited the great hall, his wife’s head twisting to look back over her shoulder and finding him with her eyes before she exited — her smile softened, nodding her head in his direction as Benjicot pressed a hand over his mouth to conceal the small smile the sight of her brought to his face. At last, she turned and left the room, Samwell’s voice loud and clear as he spoke over the room, the music ceasing, “Honoured guests, the hour grows late, and it is time for our young lord and his bride to fulfil the ancient duties of marriage. Let us raise our cups and bid them a fond farewell for the night, wishing them a fruitful union and a blessed future."

His father raised his chalice, the room mirroring his actions for a moment before there was applause — the sound caused Ben to internally cringe as he took one last drink from his cup with clammy hands, forcing down whatever contents remained. He tuned out the sound of cheers of his name, wishing him well and blessing him as he stood slowly. His chair dragged across the ground, his father looking at him and offering a tight smile — for the first time in years, he found a look of pride and adoration in his eyes. His father moved to meet him as he circled the table, a hand touching coming to the back of his head and bringing his forehead to rest against his own. 

A moment of silence passed between them, the music resuming as they stood together. 

His father released him, stepping back and nodding, “You’re going to make a fine husband and father, my boy.” He said, blinking rapidly. 

Benjicot sucked in a deep breath through his nose, nodding as he forced a smile that was small and timid, “You will be a great Lord of Raventree.” Samwell added, his voice quieter this time as he spoke. 

He couldn’t put a finger on it, but his tone was off and held an edge of emotion that caused a shiver to run down his spine; the hairs on the back of his neck standing on edge. His brows furrowed, head tilting slightly as he opened his mouth to question the sudden need for vulnerability but he was interrupted again, “Your bride is waiting for you. Go on.” Samwell said, his tone stern again. His father’s smile was something melancholic as Benjicot nodded and slowly parted ways, heading towards the doors; feeling the room’s eyes on him as he walked. The doors closed behind him as Ser Eryn followed close behind. 

“Is he aware of your intention to go to Redfork tonight?” Elmo asked, the two men staring after the young Lord who had taken his leave. 

Samwell shook his head, “Not yet.” 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Alysanne and Serra walked in silence a majority of the journey back to her newly shared rooms — the only noise that passed between them was the sound of fabric and heels with each step, the music from the great hall growing quieter the further they walked from it, her head down and watching her feet. Every so often, Serra could hear Ser Alistair’s armour from behind them clank, his footsteps heavier than both of theirs. 

It was only once they reached the door did Alysannespoke, touching her elbow in a comforting gesture, offering a small smile that resembled her brothers as it did not quite reach her eyes, “This is where I leave you, my lady.” She softly said. 

Serra reached to take her hand, pulling it from her elbow and holding it with her own as she let out a breath, “Thank you.” She replied. 

The elder of the two women nodded, squeezing her hand, “I pray that my nephew is at least respectful.” 

Serra let out a choked laugh, nodding again. She did not know how to approach the question, her gaze dropping briefly and refusing to release her hand just yet, “Something troubles you.” 

She swallowed, “What is it like?” She asked, her voice small and shy.

Alysanne’s eyebrows shot up, eyes widening as she processed the question with parted lips that formed an ‘o’ as she glanced towards the guard who stood only feet away. She pondered her next words carefully, shifting uncomfortably as she glanced towards the guard who tried to keep as much distance as he safely could manage, “I’m not sure I am the best person to talk to you about this.” She quietly said, “Did your mother never teach you about such things?” 

Serra shook her head, looking up at her. 

“Oh, my dear.” She said, letting out a breathy laugh that hinted at her uncertainty, “You will be okay. It can be uncomfortable at first, but it becomes…tolerable. That is as much as I can tell you. The rest will come naturally.” Alysanne said, using her free hand to gently cup her cheek and brush her thumb over the skin there in a soothing manner, giving her a tight-lipped smile. 

The door opened beside them, a handmaiden stepping out and curtsying to the pair, “We are ready for you, my lady.” She quietly said.  

Alysanne withdrew from her, gently guiding her by her shoulder toward the room as Serra took one final, deep breath and shakily exhaled with one last look to the older Blackwood woman before she walked in behind the young woman who had come to retrieve her. 

The servant girls had helped her in stripping down to the simple, cotton chemise that fell to her ankles, her dress being neatly folded away for her while they made work of the pins that held her hair in place; allowing it to fall freely down her back while another pulled back the blankets for her. She was grateful once for the help for once as her hands shook the moment she entered her chambers, frozen and unsure what to do as they got to work. Her eyes had just watched, silent as they brushed out her hair with nimble fingers, pulling down the blankets, quick and quiet -- they were gone just as quickly, one young girl mumbling a soft comment of, “Good luck, m’lady” as she left. Serra wasn’t fully sure what she was to expect — her mother was gone before she’d even had a chance to ask these questions, and her brothers and father did not believe in entertaining such improper conversations. She did not even know how to ask about the events of one’s wedding night — she was the first to be married, but surely, her brothers would soon follow with their betrothals and she supposed she was the one to have those answers. 

Her gaze was fixed out the window, picking at her nails as the moments seemed to drag on, alone in silence as she awaited for…well, she wasn’t sure. It felt like hours before the sound of the door opening again startled her, turning to find Benjicot entering the room, his gaze timid and to the ground as he entered; briefly raising to look at her from across the room as he closed the door behind him. She could faintly hear the distant shout from the celebration hall on the other side of the house, her shoulders rising and falling with a deep breath as she turned to face him, her lips parting. Benjicot’s movements were wary as he slowly walked further into the room, yet to say anything to his new wife as he approached the settee; his left hand rising to reach across his chest to his right shoulder and making fluid, easy work to undo the pin that secured his cloak, allowing the fabric to come apart. He pulled the cloak from his shoulders and draped it over the seat, the pin reflecting the light of the fireplace that had been lit before her arrival before bending to unlace his boots. She watched his actions closely, unsure if she should approach him or let him come to her; twirling her fingers anxiously as she took a couple of shy steps towards him just as he stood upright. Benjicot’s gaze rose from the task, looking at her and watching as she moved toward him and straightened up — the light of the fire cast light across half his face, enough to make out his features as his eyes scanned down the length of her body. 

His hands reached next for the belt that hung around his hips, undoing it and placing it with his cloak, the metal of it clinking with the move. His head dropped to look down as he moved to lift towards the strings of his leather vest, beginning to fumble them undone just as she closed the gap to approach him until she was stood directly in front of him and reached out towards the strings his hands were preoccupied with, “Here…let me.” She quietly mumbled, his gaze going to her face, allowing his hands to drop to his sides after a moment and nodding once. She sheepishly glanced up at him, her fingers trembling as she undid the laces until the vest could be discarded amongst the growing pile of his clothing. 

There was a break in the discard of his clothing, Benjicot instead distracted by her features, a hand reaching up to take the ends of her hair between his fingers and playing with it, fiddling with the strands before his hand rose to brush some behind her ear. His thumb brushed along the shape of her cheekbone as it came to drop down, slow and curious, as if he was trying to map out every curve and dip of her body head-to-toe; the hand ceasing at her jaw and taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger. She swallowed, her attention fascinated by his features up close in this light -- even in this light, if not even more, he was strikingly handsome. Her right hand lifted, palm and fingers placed to his chest, splayed out as her hand pressed flat against his sternum to feel that familiar thrum of his heart just beneath his ribs; feeling the rise and fall of his chest with each breath. Her gesture prompted a smile from him, mouth curving upwards and a dimple appearing on his left cheek as she felt his heartbeat quicken under her palm. 

He let go of her chin, stepping back just enough to be able to pull the burgundy doublet up over his head and remove it fully, leaving him half-undressed in just his underclothes. Serra fought the urge to reach out and once again touch him, feeling a jolt in the pit of her stomach as her eyes explored the skin, letting him come forward to her again as he stepped closer until he was chest-to-chest with her; hands coming to her waist as his fingers pressed into her sides. Even through her clothing, as little as it was, she could feel the heat of his touch radiate through the fabric as his face hovered so close over hers, his breath brushed over her lips; close but not quite touching as her eyelids fluttered, her breath quickening and instinctively finding hold of him by his shoulders. She felt as he drove her feet backwards and towards the bed until her knees met the frame, so close but not yet kissing her, leaving her in the balance of anticipation and desperation. She practically pushed herself forward into him as his hands slid up her sides at a tantalisingly slow pace before coming to a rest at her ribs, just below her chest and using one hand to cup her right cheek. 

The dam of anticipation in her broke as his lips finally and fully pressed to hers, relieved as he truly and completely kissed her without restraint. His lips and tongue still held the lingering taste of wine from dinner, sweet and warm as his tongue slipped between parted lips to lick at her tongue with his own. The combined sensation of his mouth on hers and his touch left her feeling hot and flustered, a warmth pooling in her belly as she sharply inhaled a breath through her nose; sharing a breath with her husband, whose hot breath tickled her nose and cheeks. It seemed as though any thoughts of battle were long gone and left at the door as Benjicot put his all into the kiss, leaving her dizzy and breathless. 

She was grateful for the moment of air, catching her breath as he parted from her to lean away just long enough to guide her into sitting back on the mattress. She scuttled backwards to give him room to follow between her knees, watching instead amidst the dim glow of the orange flames, as hands went to his waist to untie the lace of his breeches and push them down, leaving him completely and fully bared to her once the final layer of his undershirt was discarded. She sat up against the pillows, knees pulled to her chest as he crawled up to her, too anxious to look anywhere but his face as he approached her on the bed. Soon enough, he was face-to-face again with her, kneeling between her knees that were guided down and apart with one hand that then settled against the bed over her hip as he pressed a kiss to her mouth, simple and sweet in contrast to the kiss moments ago. She lifted a hand to his face, stroking his cheek. 

“How much do you know about…” He quietly asked, mouth parted from hers as he sought the words. She shook her head in reply. 

“Not..a lot.” She admitted. 

He inhaled, letting out a breath against her lips as he nodded too, hand closing around her hip, “Move down, lie back.” He instructed in a hushed tone. 

She shyly moved to shimmy herself down and onto her back underneath him, her hands withdrawing toward herself and resting over her abdomen, flat against her belly as she waited for his next move. Her wide, curious eyes watched his movements closely as he readjusted himself between her legs, his thighs brushing hers and running fingertips down from her collarbone; down her body, his touch leaving a trail of heat in their wake as they trailed down the thin fabric until he stopped at her thigh. He grasped her chemises’ skirt and gently tugged it up until it could be bunched at her waist, leaving her bare to the elements as the breeze from the room tickled the flesh of her thighs, raising gooseflesh along the skin as her thighs rested over his, leaving her hips angled towards him. 

“I have heard that it hurts.” She announced, his eyes going to her face. “The first time…I have heard from other ladies that it hurts.” She further explained, restating herself to clarify her point. She could see the small smile on his face as he leaned over her, mouth coming to hers in another sweet kiss, though she could feel that same heat simmering below the surface from earlier. 

“I cannot guarantee it won’t…it is different for men.” He said, pausing. “Though I can promise to do my best not to bring you too much discomfort. Try to relax.” 

Her breath quickened, her heart hammering beneath her ribs as her hands slid up from her belly to the neck of her gown as she nodded, her lips brushing his. She watched as he moved back further on the bed, one hand over one of her knees while the other rose to his lips, pressing the digits to them — she couldn’t help but watch, curious and fascinated by his actions, gathering saliva with his fingertips; ensuring they were coated to his liking before his hand lowered between her thighs. It was then, that his stare caught hers once again, her bottom lip being taken between her teeth and sucking in a deep breath through her nose; shy and burning with embarrassment as her gaze turned toward the roof of the canopy of her bed and fidgeting with her fingers as his hand finally made contact with her skin again. She felt the pressure of his touch, the pads of his fingertips gentle in sliding up along her folds, his saliva combining with her slick arousal to allow the movement to glide with ease as fingers pressed against the pearl above her entrance. She could hardly control the clench of her belly, the warmth pooling there spreading like wildfire and igniting every nerve in her body when his fingers slowly began to rub against it with circular motions, his eyes stuck on her face and watching her from his place between her legs, gauging her reaction. 

Her chest rose with a deep breath in, too engulfed by embarrassment to move under his watchful gaze and swallowing when she dared to meet his stare, startled by the soft expression on his face — for once, he just existed peacefully, no signs of frown lines around his brow or mouth. He was just the boy Lord of Raventree — youthful and handsome. His actions caused a charged jolt to shoot up her spine, the warmth once in her lower belly intensifying as her right knee moved to press against his side, with a soft mutter of ‘oh’, her hips shifting against his touch.

 “Does that feel okay?” He suddenly asked. 

She had to muster the courage to choke out a reply, afraid of her voice at that very moment, instead giving him a small nod. She could see the relief on his face as he leaned into his free hand that pressed flat against the mattress beside her waist, buried in the deep red blanket that covered the bed. She resisted the urge to reach out and touch him amidst the battle of figuring out where to place them — did she grab hold of the blankets? Of him? 

“You can touch me, you know.” He stated like he had read her mind. She could make out the smile on his face and the tone that teased her, leaning forward to kiss her, a small muffled gasp of air being drawn in; every inch of her body aflame as the heat that spread down her belly, her thighs, until the sensation rested in her toes, tingling. At his words, almost like she had no control over her body, her right hand reached out towards him, leaned over her and made contact with his abdomen; the lean muscles rippling with movement as he adjusted himself so the hand by her waist could move to plant beside her head, his face hovering over hers. Benjicot withdrew from her lips, leaving her mouth chasing after his for a moment, her chin lifting while her fingertips traced down his abdomen until they stopped just between the dip of his hips. The feeling of his skin and the lewdness of the entire situation was thrilling, inciting an involuntary whimper. 

He readjusted, his hips coming closer to hers, enough so that his pelvis brushed hers while his hand moved; taking her whimper as a cue to proceed. His hand dipped, using the slick her arousal created as a lubricant to gently ease a finger into her, slow movements, readily on the lookout for any sign of discomfort that would prompt him to stop — her eyes widened up at him, mouth falling agape and walls fluttering around the digit at the intrusion; he could see her brows furrow, audibly withdrawing a sharp intake of air through parted lips as she seemed to be trying to decide on whether it was a sensation she welcomed. Benjicot stilled, his thumb reaching to brush against her clit and resuming the slow and steady movements against her. 

The hand that had been awkwardly placed at her chest finally moved, gripping his bright bicep tightly — he watched as she dropped her head back against the pillows, a whine of approval leaving her mouth that eased any worry in the back of his head. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her throat, the dip between her collarbones and dragging his lips up along the length of it, before settling at her pulse point and gently using his teeth to nip at the skin there, earning a content sigh as her head turned to bury into the pillow. Once he felt her muscles loosen, he edged a second finger in, his eyes never leaving her face; her hand at his hips sliding to his back and dragging her nails down his spine. 

Benjicot had no desire to overwhelm her — as much as his primal desires wanted nothing more than to fuck her senseless into the mattress, quick and relentless, he bit back his impulsive urges. His face nuzzled against her chest, nose brushing along the curve of her breast, feeling as her hand rose to lace itself at the roots of his hair, fingernails scratching his scalp and earning a groan of approval at the sensation. His fingers curled upwards as they slowly thrust into her, his fingertips pressing up into her walls, a sensation that felt as though his fingers worked in behind the delicate bundle of nerves — her mouth opened with a sharp gasp, moaning as her hips shifted against his hand, lifting into his palm. Her hand in his hair tightened, tugging him upwards and back to her face, her mouth messily finding him in an open-mouth kiss that was more pants of air than anything; his mouth wandering to proper kisses to her chin and cheeks. 

“Oh.” She softly breathed, his thumb picking up pace against her bud. 

His chest pressed to hers as he laid his weight overtop her, hips between her thighs as the heel of her left foot pressed into the back of his thigh. In the move, Serra was reminded just how little separated them now; feeling the weight of his hardened cock brush against her pelvis -- relishing in the sacredness of the intimacy shared between husband and wife, in the privacy of their chambers. She was suddenly grateful that there had been no public spectacle made of their departure following the feast, no bedding ceremony that involved several ageing men standing in their room to witness it — she had heard the stories of others' bedding ceremonies at supper, mortified by the thought. 

Her thighs ached as a pressure built in her belly, warmth pooling there like the embers of fire, stoked only by the ministrations of his hand; his forehead resting to her collarbone as his gaze lowered between them. His nose brushed her chin as he moved to watch the movements of his hand as his fingers moved in and out of her, coaxing every gasp and choked moan from her he could — Serra felt blessed to have a husband who had been gifted with the generous gifts the gods have given him, her chest arching up into his and clinging to him as a cry left her. The coil wound tight within belly snapped finally, her thighs clamping tight around his waist as her head pressed as far back into the mattress it could, stuttering out a mantra of his name as pleasure wracked through her body; her walls spasming around his fingers, “Fuck!” She sobbed. 

His head snapped up towards her at the curse, his eyes on her face as her peak consumed her, body and soul — it seemed such a vulgar expression from a girl who usually presented as demure and calculatedly proper, cautious of ever behaving as anything less. It seemed harsh coming from her mouth but piqued his interest as he pushed himself back in line with her eyes as he eased her through the aftershocks that shook her to the core. His lips grazed hers, pressing a kiss to her mouth and swallowing the whine that left her, her eyes still squeezed shut — harsh as the sound was from her mouth, he ached to be the reason she cursed again, to push her over the precipice of pleasure until she could not find any other words. Pride swelled in his chest as her lips met his in a kiss that was eager and desperate, pulling her up with his free hand by the front of her nightgown. 

She slowly sat up with him, an arm hooking around his shoulders as she leaned up into his kiss — skin hot and heavily breathing as his hand withdrew from between her thighs, earning a shudder from his wife. He sat back on his knees, his mouth parting from hers briefly to reach for the hem of her chemise with eager hands, her eyes on his and chest heaving with each breath as he pulled the gown up and over her head. He sensed her hesitation as her arms lifted with the task, dropping back to her sides once the fabric was discarded off the edge of the bed and gripping the pillows with nervous hands as his face hovered over hers — his right hand rested against her ribs, sliding down her side to the hinge between her hip and thigh as she gripped his shoulders. His nose nudged hers in an affectionate gesture, her lips parting as she let out a content sigh, exhaust already clearly written on her face as she lifted a hand to cup his cheek. 

His hand at her ribs slowly trailed upwards, his thumb coming up underneath her breast and brushing over the hardened nipple there, “My lovely wife,” he breathed, his hand fully moving to envelop her breast in his palm and squeezing gently, “My Lady Blackwood…” 

Her head tilted backwards with a soft mewl of appreciation, leaning back into her other hand that was still buried among the pillows, her eyes fluttering shut. His mouth connected with her sternum, the bed dipping beneath his weight as he abruptly slid down the bed, utterly consumed by his lust as he laid on his stomach; her thighs being dragged up and over his shoulders with his face eagerly coming between her legs. Serra released a startled gasp as his mouth attached itself to her, tongue swiping up her folds and finding her bud once again with his lips this time — his tongue dipped into her, pressing open-mouthed kisses against her womanhood as she clutched tightly to the bedding. One of her hands found its way back to his hair, fisting it between clammy fingers as her chest heaved with heavy gasps for air, “Oh gods.” 

Benjicot released a guttural groan from below her, the grown-in facial hair scraping the delicate flesh of her thighs with each desperate lap and kiss, only heightening her senses as her thighs attempted to close around his head. He could feel her thighs tense, trembling underneath his touch as his mouth continued its ministrations, her body slumping back into the pillows with a cry, “Ben— Ben.” She breathed out, voice cracking with a weak cry of pleasure. 

He could have stayed there forever — between her thighs, listening to her cries if time would have allowed for it, drinking in the image of her as he glanced up; her chest pushed up and arched against him as she writhed against the mattress with whines tumbling from her mouth. 

She tugged him desperately away from her, her body ablaze as he eased off the mattress and was guided up until he was pressed against her; bare chest to hers, her soft skin slick with perspiration against his as he caught his breath. His hands planted against the mattress behind her, her thighs loosely around his waist as his pelvis brushed her own, “Do I satisfy you, wife?” He softly asked, ducking his head to briefly capture her lips with his. 

Serra whined against his mouth, his hips reflexively grinding against hers and brushing against her sensitive skin. Her arms moved around him, coming up underneath his arms and palms pressing to the planes of his back as she pulled him flush against her, “Yes.” She gasped against his mouth. 

It was a simple enough response, but it stirred something in him, causing him to release a moan of his own. His left hand moved to reach between them, his hand wrapping around his cock and bringing the head to her entrance; swiping up through her folds. He felt as she tensed, releasing a gasp that caused him to hesitate — the heels of her palms pushed against his back, pulling him into her again, the cue he needed to proceed; his hips aligned with hers as his hips angled into hers before slowly sinking into her. 

His mouth opened with a soft groan, her face pinched up in a wince as she let out a sharp gasp at the intrusion, “Fuck.” He muttered. 

Her hands adjusted against his spine, slipping down to his waist from his shoulders, her fingernails digging into the flesh of his hips. His gaze rose to her face, breathless as he withdrew his hand from between them to lift and cup her cheek as her head pressed back into the pillows with a strangled whimper, his thumb tilting her chin down and bringing her face back towards his, “Okay— you’re okay,” He soothed, her mouth agape as his hand held her chin in the crook between his thumb and forefinger with a delicate touch as he bottomed out; her walls tight and clenching around him. 

Her chest heaved, eyebrows furrowing as she squeezed her eyes shut; Benjicot’s hips slowly withdrew, his movements slow as he rocked into her, another whimper on her lips at the stretch and burn of him embedded into her. She felt his mouth over hers, lips brushing hers as he spoke, his forehead pressed to hers, “There you go…” He encouraged her. “Just breathe.” 

The hand at her jaw removed itself, reaching to find one of hers and lacing his fingers through hers as his palm pressed against her own; her hand being pinned against the mattress above her shoulder. His mouth captured hers in another heated kiss, a subtle distraction from how full of him she felt — his pelvis brushed hers with a slow roll of his hips, drawing a soft moan from her. It was a relief to earn some noise of approval finally that did not hint at pain, Benjicot leaned his weight into her and supported himself by his free arm as he leaned into his elbow, “Gods.” He breathed out, his hips rutting into hers. 

Just as Alysanne had warned, there was discomfort — tight and feeling as though she could have split right then and there, beneath the weight of him, but it stoked a flame within her; a flush of warmth spreading down her body as her hips lifted into his, Benjicot’s face burying into her neck and arching into him. Her chin lifted towards the ceiling, a sharp breath being inhaled as she then let out a high-pitched moan and moved a hand to grip the back of his hair; her thighs opening further to welcome him. She gasped, the sounds of them both echoing within the room as Benjicot held her in place; pinned beneath him as he mindlessly fucked himself into her, his pelvis brushing against hers in a way that could have brought even the kingdoms to their knees. She felt his mouth find the corner of hers in a kiss, her mouth agape and lazily responding to him as another soft meek of appreciation slipped from her mouth — her senses were still raw, the hair on the back of her neck standing at attention. 

A guttural moan left her husband, clamouring to come back to her face as his nose bumped hers, his mouth hovering over hers. The hand that previously pinned hers released, his hand coming to cup her cheek as she instinctively hooked a hip around his waist to pull him into her — her eyes found his, half-lidded and looking at her with nothing shy of awe and adoration; a warm glow in his eyes that elicited a flush of colour to spread across her face, mouth opening in another cry as she felt herself spiral, losing her grip on that last thread of reality that kept her grounded; tumbling through her peak as she clung to him, her nails digging into his flesh. 

His forehead pressed to hers, slick with sweat and hair clinging to his skin. His hips snapped against hers twice more before he let out a euphoric sigh against her mouth, spilling himself into her and screwing his eyes shut. His weight moved off his elbow, laying full into her after a moment; her arms still around him and holding him against her as the room was filled by the soft pants of the husband and wife catching their breath, warmed by the fire that still burned across from them. Benjicot did not move, with his belly pressed to hers and lying between her thighs, still buried inside her as his head soon found rest against her neck — even if Serra had the desire to move, she couldn’t with her thighs around his waist and buried into the mattress underneath him. She blindly found the hair at the nape of his neck, fingers carefully carding through the roots as she slowly came to her senses; her eyes scanning the canopy above her and processing what had just happened — was this marriage? Was this what she had to look forward to? 

In the fog of things, with the last traces of euphoria still coursing through her veins, marriage did not seem so daunting — it seemed pleasant and blissful. 

Benjicot stirred against her, moving just enough to press a kiss to the crook of her neck and then another to her collarbone; lips wet against her skin as he licked them. His left hand found her ribs, sliding up her body and stopping below her breast as his hot breath tickled her skin, moving finally to look at her face again and slowly scanning every little fine detail his eyes could find. Serra gave a breathless smile, letting out a soft laugh — in the dim lighting, she saw Benjicot’s mouth quirk upwards, “You’re alright?” He asked, voice barely a whisper. 

“I think so,” She answered. 

He pressed a kiss to her mouth in that same breathtaking way that she craved for an eternity of, before he withdrew his hips; his body pulling away from hers with the action as he shifted — she was painfully aware suddenly how empty she now felt, besides that warm sensation of him between her legs. His head lowered to press a kiss to her chest as he shuffled back on the mattress and rolled over beside her; sprawled out on his back and let out a tired sigh. Her head turned to look at him, watching the way his chest rose and fell with slow, deep breaths with his eyes closed with a hand over his chest — she wasn’t sure what came next exactly, staring at him, waiting. 

An eye opened, turning his head slightly to look at her, visibly exhausted as they shared a look -- his eyes averted from hers quickly, his mouth opening as though he wanted to say something but instead, she was met by silence; his hand moved to find hers, lacing his fingers through hers and gently squeezing it as they closed again, relaxing as her thumb brushed along the back of his hand. 

A sudden bang on the door was followed by a shout, “Plant the Blackwood seed deep, cousin! Make us all proud!” 

“Oh, I’m pretty sure he already has.”  

Benjicot leaned up on his elbows, his gaze fixed on the door and opened his mouth, his brows furrowing as a series of drunken cackles followed. He listened to the clamour of his cousins, stumbling over one another as a thud followed, presuming one of the boys had fallen; Serra shifted beside him, his head turning to look up at her with an incredulous look, eyes widening as he then rolled them; a shy smile on her face as she let out a quiet laugh. 

“Don’t take too long! The boys are missing you!” Emrys shouted. 

“Shut up— take your time!” Henry silenced his younger brother, the sound of their clamouring footsteps heard from under the door, “We’re entrusting you two to create the next legendary Blackwood heir!” 

“I could kill them, you know,” he suggested, voice quiet and looking back towards the door, “kill them, we flee to the woods and live in a modest little hut of our own. It’s sounding oddly appealing right about now.” He grumbled. 

“Not like this,” She replied, shifting to lean over and press her lips to his shoulder in a kiss. Benjicot looked at her, his nose brushing hers in close proximity, “We will have to return sooner than later, you know.” She mumbled. 

“We don’t have to,” he remarked. “We could just stay here the rest of the night— surely, I think the council and my father would understand if we were busy trying to secure the Blackwood line.” 

The suggestive tone in his words left her speechless, face warming as she could only muster a shy smile against his mouth as he leaned in, closing the gap to press another kiss to her mouth, “You’re the heir. We can’t.” She quietly managed to mutter against his mouth, feeling as he let out a hum into her lips. Her right hand lifted quickly and wrapped around his neck, fingers gentle as she nudged him back, “We can’t.” She repeated, her voice firmer. 

She watched the look cross his features, a grin on his face as his gaze dropped to her mouth for a moment, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, “If you say so,” He teased. 

Benjicot moved quickly, lunging to his feet and bending to sweep up his clothing; finding his pants rather quickly and pulling them back on, leaving them on his hips untied. Her eyes watched him, entranced as he found his undershirt and slid it on — while collecting his clothing, his fingers plucked up her shift that had been strewn on the floor in the moment. He looked proud of himself, smug as he sauntered towards her, a hand lifting to gesture her up and towards him with a summon of his fingers. 

Serra felt the urge to shy away under the heat of his gaze, a self-satisfied smile on his face as she slowly moved to slide off the bed and stand in front of him in all her entirely; bare beneath his gaze. One of his hands reached out to graze up her side, nudging her arm to cue her to lift them to which she complied, her arms raising to allow him to easily glide the fabric down her arms and over her head. Nimble fingers worked to tug the fabric down over her chest and belly, the fabric enveloping her thighs with touches that lingered, brushing along the expanse of her body as he gave the gown one last fix. 

Her hand reached out suddenly, his eyes darting towards it and back to her face — he relaxed, allowing her to proceed and reach out. She avoided his eyes as she moved to tuck his shirt into the pants, straightening out the straps over his shoulders; her hands then began to make swift work of lacing him up at his waist, fastening the article of clothing around his hips. She finally glanced up as her hands dropped once the task was completed, finding him still watching her with that same look; he chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment, dimple prominent with the action as he seemed to be lost in thought. 

“Do you need help with your dress?” He asked, voice hushed. 

“I can summon Grace,” she said, smoothing out the shirt over his chest. “I don’t imagine you have any experience with dresses, you need not worry.” 

Benjicot withdrew and walked backwards towards where her ladies had previously neatly folded her dress over a table to keep it from being wrinkled, a grin on his face, “You underestimate me, my dear wife.” 

Her eyebrows shot up, following his steps in moving forward towards him with slow, tentative steps, “And pray tell, why might you know such things…husband?” 

“I’m observant,” He nonchalantly replied. 

She stepped forward until she stood in front of him again, her husband reaching for a flagon of water that sat atop her writing table; searching for a cloth but coming short and instead settling on a handkerchief among her things. Benjicot tipped the flagon enough to wet the piece of fabric by pouring water into it, offering it to her with a look that flickered between her face before lowering south between her legs — she eyed it, sucking in a breath as she dawned on the realisation of his suggestion when he gently shook it. She reached out to accept it and retreated to a stool to clean herself near the fire; the sound of rustling fabric behind her as the once pristine handkerchief was stained by a light spotting of blood and the reminisce of their duty, wincing. 

She glanced briefly over her shoulder towards him, finding him delicately handling her dress and holding it over his arms, waiting expectantly. 

She huffed as she tossed the handkerchief to a nearby bin for soiled clothes, standing and straightening her shift. Benjicot offered her an arm as she stood, her thighs clamping together uncomfortably as she uttered a soft ‘thank you’ — he only let out a hum, seemingly focused on the task with a knitted brow as he helped the dress over her head; circling her to straighten out the back. Serra was used to the routine of others dressing her, feeling hands at her waist and neck, fixing her dress; but it dawned on her that Benjicot was too — it was a thought that she found discomforting, but unable to find it within herself to say anything as she felt the cloak of his house colours settle on her shoulders; his fingers sliding underneath the fabric to fix it against her skin. His hand closed around her shoulder to turn her, facing one another as he reached to fasten the cloak but was stopped by her hand, “I can do it.” She insisted. 

He looked up at her, nodding. She did not mean to become so irritable the more she thought about it, but the words had come out before she could even think to restrain herself — she leaned up and kissed him, to soothe the wound before she backed away. The thought lingered, however, her father’s words echoing in her memory; angry as he rambled on about ending their betrothal on the spot — she pondered the tone of his voice when he denied the claims of a child, running through that moment a thousand times since and analysing every little detail; the sincerity of his words. He had been exhausted from the beating and she had never thought to question it before. 

She couldn’t help but picture a child with his bright eyes and matching dark hair, chubby, rosy cheeks and all smiles — dawned in yellow and red to match their mother’s house, and the thought made her feel sick and dirty, feeling as though to some degree she could have been responsible for taking the father of a child away from them before they were even granted the chance to know him, true or not. The thought made her want to crawl out of her skin that she could have been responsible for such an idea — the anger and shame she held within her body could only be directed at the man in front of her, not towards a child who had no say in the matters of their conception; they were not responsible for bearing that burden of accountability for something beyond their control before they were even born. Serra swallowed. 

She learned that Benjicot seemed to have a way of making dressing look like an art form that he had mastered; in his own oblivious world and doing it with such ease, practised as he walked throughout the room whilst tying his shirt closed, and pulling the doublet over his head. He had hardly paused as he fixed his hair with his fingers, plucking up the leather vest and pulling it on; Serra watched as he easily tied it back together and snug against his body, barely giving any mind to her task at hand. His eyes briefly lifted as though he felt her watching him, and there it was again — that small knowing smile on his face, looking up through his lashes as he tugged the vest to straighten it against his chest; that smile that made her heart swell within her chest, a juxtaposition to her resentment towards him for betraying her before he had even allowed her to do right by him and prove herself, and bringing a child into the world that he had no intention to claim — the flurry of emotions that coursed through her veins and haunted her thoughts involved nothing but shame. 

She lowered his eyes from his, embarrassed at being caught staring as she collected her stockings from the table and sat once more to roll them up her legs underneath her dress, the fabric rising with the task. Her skirts were shoved back down and smoothed, turning to find her husband waiting with her shoes in his hand, having already pulled his boots and cloak back on — she hesitated, looking at them and his face before he slowly crouched to set them down in front of her. He helped her into them, offering her a shoulder for her to lean into as she stepped into them; her hand planted against his shoulder for stability as she swayed, legs ready to give out underneath her. Once she released him, he stood and stepped back, letting out a breath as he rolled his shoulders. 

“Are you ready?” He suddenly asked. 

She silently nodded. 

A thought dawned on him, his eyes going to the bed and holding up a finger to her as if to signal one moment — he moved to brush past her, bent over the bed and observing it; she internally cringed at the sight of the blood stain where she had been moments prior, but Benjicot seemed unfazed as he quickly made work to strip the sheet from the bed. She watched him lazily fold it up, balling it and holding it against him as though that would do anything to conceal what it was he was carrying — his cloak half hid it as he returned to her side, taking her hand in his free one and sliding his fingers through hers.

The walk back towards the great hall was a long one, silent as she felt all the eyes of Raventree on her; servants and other house staff bowing their heads whilst uttering blessings to them as they passed — she hated to admit it, but the only thing that grounded her at that moment was Benjicot’s hand, his shoulder bumping hers as they walked, his pace slow to accommodate hers; and every so often, his gaze occasionally drifted to find hers, his eyebrows raising when she made eye contact as if he was checking that she was okay. Once they reached the bottom of the stairs, Benjicot summoned Ser Eryn towards them and muttered something to him. 

“Can you summon the council and maester?” His voice was low enough that she could hardly make out his words, her ears ringing as she briefly looked into the room that was still bustling with celebrations; the room still buzzing with men and women who were drunk, stumbling over themselves and dancing as music filled every corner. She could vaguely see her father had remained at his seat, joyfully laughing as he spoke to a Lord who she recognized from House Piper — Ser Eryn quietly replied with a question, “Yes, the Lord Tully as well— and my father.” 

“Your father is…preoccupied, my lord.” 

“Where is he?” 

“I’m not too sure, unfortunately. He stepped out shortly after you, but he should return soon.” Ser Eryn replied. 

Serra looked towards the two men finally, Benjicot’s expression one of confusion as he reluctantly nodded and dismissed his sworn protector. The guard bowed his head before he retreated into the room before she was pulled out of sight from the room, around the corner towards the wall. They were silent, hand-in-hand, the sound of laughter and shouting from the room; listening to the drunken lords and ladies who excitedly whispered as the council crossed the room, the Lord Elmo in tow as Ser Eryn had been instructed to do. Benjicot’s gaze fixed on the side of her face, her eyes up towards the ceiling as he trailed a thumb across her knuckles in a soothing gesture. She briefly turned to look up at him, a small smile on his face as she gave his hand a reluctant squeeze. 

“My dove,” Elmo sighed as he entered the hallway, shoving past the men of his council to get to her. 

Serra’s eyes tore from Benjicot’s, looking to her father as he immediately reached out to grab her by her shoulders with a gentle hold and looking her over — he cupped her cheek, “Are you alright, my dear?” 

She shyly nodded. 

Her gaze darted over his shoulder, watching as the maester was handed the bed linens by her husband — the exchange was quiet, Maester Edric unfolding the sheet and assessing them, as everyone seemed to wait in silence for his response. Serra felt the need to curl up and die, mortified by the display in front of her father, while her brothers were hidden amongst the councilmen. 

“The union has been successful— I can confirm the marriage has been consummated,” Maester Eric stated after a long pause, looking at Elmo. His old, wisened eyes looked then towards Serra, his voice softening, “You have both done well.” 

Elmo clapped his hands together, startling his daughter, a relieved mutter breaking out amongst the men who surrounded them; the enthusiastic congratulations being extended immediately to the young boy lord, “Oh, the Gods shine down on us today— Serra, my dear, you make our house proud.” He excitedly said, his attention turning to Benjicot as he approached her side, “Benjicot— you too.” He rambled, reaching to shake his hand. 

“I should make the announcement,” Her father suddenly announced, eyes widening as he brushed past them in a hurry. 

Serra’s mouth opened to protest, embarrassed enough by the bows of heads and congratulations that now surrounded her; feeling as though there was a hand at her arm or grabbing her hand every second — she found it overwhelming as she leaned into Benjicot, who steadied her against his chest. His hands rested on her shoulders, holding her against him as she let out a breath, forcing a smile in the direction of Robbard Mooton as he begrudgingly offered his congratulations with a mutter before shuffling away with a scowl.  She could hear her father clinking his chalice with a utensil, drawing all eyes to him as his drink was held high. 

“This sacred bond between our houses is now complete, sealed in the eyes of gods and men. The honour of House Tully and House Blackwood stands strong, and this marriage shall fortify the ties between our families for generations to come.

May this union bring prosperity and strength to our houses, and may the love between Benjicot and Serra grow as deep as the rivers that nourish our lands. Tonight, we celebrate not just a marriage, but the forging of an alliance that will endure through the ages."

“Congratulations on your union, sister,” Kermit spoke from behind him as Robbard excused himself quickly.  He stepped forward, hands clasped at the hilt of his sword and visibly tense as he spoke from behind gritted teeth. 

Serra could tell he was avoiding Benjicot’s eyes and had no desire to be there — she could see the tension in his shoulders, forcibly squared and trying to appear as large as he could, stiff as a board as he stood upright, looking down his nose at her, “Thank you, Kermit.” She softly replied. 

He hummed, not yet leaving as he stared at her, his expression tense with annoyance as though being there in that moment was a burden forced upon him. To see him so withdrawn from her, denying her of any genuine warmth and kindness that she had always known him for caused her heart to ache, fidgeting with her hands for a moment before she stepped forward to reach for one of his hands and took it between hers, “I should hope that soon enough you will be married too— happily and blessed by the Gods.” She nervously said, offering him a timid smile. 

Benjicot’s hands squeezed around her shoulders, as though he was trying to soothe her from the anxiety that washed over her in that moment, staring at her brother with intense focus. 

“I suppose I will be,” He replied, the answer cold and distant as he glanced at her husband behind her. She could faintly see the twitch of his eye as he found Benjicot, hardly suppressing the scowl of disgust that crept across his face, “Thank you, sister.” He said, pulling his hand from hers. 

Benjicot fought the urge to scoff aloud, his eyes rolling in response to his friend’s attitude and the comment -- it took everything in him not to lunge at him and violently shake him like his father had done to him several times as a boy, hoping to shake some sense into him. Kermit wasn’t stupid, Benjicot had grown fully aware of that after years of friendship, but his behaviour was childish and ridiculous in his eyes -- that despite the bond he had with his sister, he was willing and quick to resent her for a mistake that was not hers to bear the consequences of. His jaw clenched, withdrawing his hands to his sides and watching as his sister attempted to reach again for him. 

“Kermit, I—“ 

“I should let you get back to your celebrations,” Kermit snapped. “I’d hate to ruin your night.” He muttered, looking back down at his sister who let out a quiet ‘oh’, small like a child and blinking rapidly a couple of times whilst his gaze darted one last time towards Benjicot. The way he toyed with his wife enraged him, letting out a low growl of annoyance that came from deep within his throat -- how could he torture his sister over some petty feud that had nothing to do with her? 

His eyes turned back to his sister. Benjicot witnessed the way a look crossed his features -- a look he could only describe as a moment of remorse as she looked down, his features subtly softening like he wanted to take it all back -- Benjicot wanted him to. He wanted him to regret it and take back his attitude; for him to apologise and beg for her forgiveness, prove to them both that it was a mistake and insist he was happy for her.  Benjicot could bear the thought of him being angry with him -- he had grown used to it after several squabbles as boys that led to Kermit being angry with him for days and avoiding him like he was the human embodiment of illness; Benjicot was used to that silence and knew he would come crawling back with some subtle hint he had forgiven him with some excuse of training together, or whatever he could muster. But he knew his sweet wife could not. 

Kermit visibly hesitated, his shoulders slouching with a breath, reaching forward to gather one of her hands with one of his own and lifting it. He kissed her knuckles, his head bowing as he lowered her hand, her head whipping up to look at him as her hand fell back to her side. 

Serra timidly nodded, too worried she would worsen things if she pressed further — she longed to reach out, to bridge the widening chasm between them, but the words tangled on her tongue.  Her eyes followed him as he turned on the ball of his foot and descended back into the hall that still roared with festivities, disappearing among the crowd and straining her eyes to catch one last glimpse of him. She hardly noticed as Benjicot stepped closer, his head lowering until his lips brushed the shell of her ear, “It’s not you that he is angry with,” Benjicot assured with a whisper. 

She instinctively sought his hand as the familiar, soothing weight of it rested again on her shoulder, her hand lifting across her chest to entangle their fingers at her left shoulder, “It does not make this any easier,” She admitted. 

His lips pressed to her temple in a comforting kiss, “I know,” Benjicot hummed, her cheek leaning into their hands as he stood upright, “But he will come to see reason eventually— he could never stray too long from you. You are two halves of the same soul if I ever saw one.” 

Her head turned, looking up at him — he offered a small smile, his hand pulling from hers to brush some hair behind her ear and neatly tucking it away from her face, “Come now,” he instructed, finally pulling from her and finding her hand in his once more. “You only get one wedding night, we mustn’t squander it worrying about things we cannot control.” 

Benjicot waited, looking at her expectantly as he gently tugged on her hand, encouraging her to move — her eyes had turned to stare after where her brother had gone, hesitating still to join him, “Please,” He said, forcing her forward a step as she looked back at him, “Do not let your brother sour the mood tonight. I will make amends with him in time, he will forgive us both. He will always care for you, no matter how he feels now— this does not reflect his true feelings.” He reasoned. 

“I just want my brother,” she sighed, relenting and allowing him to lead her back into the hall as she found rest against his side; nestled under his arm that held her against him, seeking respite in his warmth and calm demeanour among the overwhelming chaos of the celebrations that were not yet close to dying down still. The room remained loud, the lights too bright for her eyes as she closed them, trusting him to lead them both through the crowd.  

His hand found her waist as they walked, the moment brief and intimate, “You do have him.” 

She was reminded of Oscar’s presence as he greeted them at the doors, his smile one of pride and warmth as he stood just inside the hall; her father was too distracted by a conversation with two men as he rambled excitedly to notice her arrival and acknowledge her further. 

She felt guilty that she seemingly had forgotten he too was there, in all the chaos of getting ready, exhausted from a sleepless night of tossing and turning in bed; when her youngest brother was present and participating in the celebration of her new union, unable to conceal his giddiness, his hands clenching around the hilt of his sword as though it would somehow hide in plain sight that he was itching to approach her. 

Oscar, in his wisdom and knowledge despite his youth, had always been skilled at reading a room and understanding the importance of timing -- he also knew Serra and knew that she would be overwhelmed amidst everything happening and had restrained himself from unintentionally contributing to things. 

She realised that he was correct — despite Kermit’s current tantrum, she still had a brother — boyishly smiling at her like she had hung every star in the sky, proud and eager for her arrival that he was borderline bouncing on his feet as she entered; she was relieved to see a face that did not overwhelm her with thoughts of duty and expectation, nor guilt for experiencing even the smallest amount of bliss on her wedding night. Her youngest brother, proper and pristine as ever, turned to face her and Serra could only feel relief. She relaxed against Benjicot’s side, pulling from him to hurry towards her brother, her hands extending for him before she had even reached him — Benjicot was right that she at least had Oscar at that moment. It had dawned on her that she had hardly seen him all day, even after the wedding ceremony, only having caught brief glimpses of his hair in the crowd. 

His hands found hers, bringing one to his mouth to place a kiss across her knuckles quickly, “You look radiant,” He commented as she stopped in front of him, “just like our mother, you know.” He commented, his compliment flowing with such ease she knew he was sincere. She could never doubt Oscar, because he was truthful and did not make it a habit to say anything that he did not mean. 

Embarrassed, Serra felt herself become choked up at his words, emotion crawling up the back of her throat and tearing up as she blinked to rid herself of the tears that threatened to spill. She could not pinpoint the exact root cause for the tears as she let out a sad, melancholic laugh that was strangled; but she was painfully aware that in the weeks since her arrival of loneliness and isolation that she had carried since she had stepped foot into Raventree, that childish need for her mother gnawing at the back of her mind, “Are you not happy?” Her brother asked, concerned by her tears. 

She shook her head quickly, “No, it’s not that,” she assured. “I am…I am happy.” 

“Then why do you cry?” 

She hesitated, “I just wish she could have been here.” Serra admitted, pulling a hand from his and cupping his cheek affectionately, “She would have been proud of the man you have grown to be.”

Her brother stilled as a look crossed his features, unreadable and unblinking as he stared at her the weight of her words rested heavy over them and visibly swallowed. He let out a small noise that resembled a forced laugh from his nose, “Is this what marriage does to one?” He quietly teased, touching her hand on his face. 

She laughed, leaning forward and pressing a tender kiss to his forehead and brushing over his head, smoothing out the stray curls that she knew to be unruly since he was a babe. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Benjicot did not feel the need to intrude on the tender moment between the two siblings, watching as his wife soon became distracted by a conversation with her younger brother -- he had stayed a majority of the interaction but felt it necessary to give them a moment of privacy. As a boy, he envied what it must have been like to have siblings that ran about the castle, filling its halls with noise as they laughed, played, and fought -- he had watched them a majority of their childhood; and witnessed the unconditional love and bond they shared, expressed through defending one another, loyal to one another even when the others were not present. 

He was fortunate enough to have his three first-cousins who grew up only down the hall from him, the sons his Uncle Willem’s pride and joy, and becoming something of his playmates -- but he yearned for what it would have been like to have had brothers and sisters of his own, who shared his blood entirely. 

He had tugged at his sleeves, fixing them and looking away as Serra leaned in to press a kiss to Oscar’s forehead, his gaze scanning the room and averting anywhere else they could. The room had begun to stink of wine and old food that had been left to go cold, their guests too distracted in dance and song to pay it any mind, too drunk to even stay on their feet as he witnessed several men stumble over their own feet and scarcely catch themselves. His thoughts were distracted by his disgust at the sight, never quite understanding the appeal for impairing the mind of its ability to think clearly and act in better judgement -- even at his wedding, he felt no desire to join in and follow their lead. Even as Emrys and Henry approached him, breathless from laughter and red-faced as Henry slung an arm around his younger cousin’s shoulders and pulled him into his armpit to ruffle his hair, “There’s the man of the hour,” Henry remarked, a laugh in his voice as Benjicot strained to pull himself from his grasp, “Way to do us all proud, Benji.” 

Benjicot fought the urge to wretch at the nickname, finally freeing himself from his grasp with an exasperated sigh, “How’s it feel to be a man now?” Emrys snickered, being shoved by the young heir who rolled his eyes, face reddening in embarrassment. 

“A husband no less, aye,” Henry added. 

Benjicot straightened his tunic, casting a wary glance around the room before turning back to his cousins with a strained smile. “Well, it feels like I’ve been handed a rather heavy set of responsibilities,” he said, trying to sound lighthearted. “And as for being a husband, I suppose I’ll have to adjust to this new role, just as you two seem to be adjusting to your wine-soaked festivities.”

He cast a sidelong glance at the revellers, his voice lowering slightly. “I’ll leave the grand display of ‘manhood’ to you, Emrys, and you too, Henry. For now, I’m more inclined to focus on not making a fool of myself.”

Emrys feigned an insulted pout as a hand pressed to his chest, mimicking a wound, whilst the eldest of the three laughed with his head thrown back, “So he’s too good for us now, you hear that?” Henry teased. 

“Always was,” Benjicot taunted, teasing him as he shoved his cousin back a step. He paused, allowing for the sound of the festivities to fill the silence as his two cousins snickered, looking around again -- he suddenly noticed his father’s absence, despite looking around twice before he settled on the realisation he was nowhere to be found. His brows furrowed, mouth ajar, “Henry, do you, uh…happen to know where my father went?” He asked, looking at his cousin who took a sip from his chalice. 

He appeared visibly confused, looking at Emrys who swayed absentmindedly, drunk as he seemed to be oblivious to the fact, “I don’t actually. Oi-- Emrys,” He called, drawing his brother’s attention back to the conversation, “Where did our uncle go?” Emrys snorted suddenly, “He went to the Redfork, you know this.” He said, his tone suggesting it was the most obvious thing. 

Both men snapped upright, tense and confused as Henry lowered his head, frowning, “What?” The two men asked in unison. 

Emrys let out a small laugh, grinning as he looked around, his eyes slowly returning to face them -- his smile dropped when he faced them again, “The Redfork…Davos and a few men went out to patrol this afternoon, there was some spat at the borders with some Bracken boys, Aeron Bracken among them,” He said, his tone again suggesting it was a widely known fact as he looked between his brother and Benjicot but instead met by silence, “It escalated into a full-blown battle, Samwell and Alysanne left a half hour ago with Robb and some of his men at the borders. More are to join them within the hour.”

“What the fuck do you mean they left?” Benjicot spluttered angrily. 

Emrys attempted to force a laugh to lighten the mood, but the sound was cut short as Benjicot’s eyes narrowed, shaking his head, “You…” He started to say but stopped himself, “You truly didn’t know?” 

He twitched, fist coming up quickly and ready to grab him by the shirt but stopping himself, and forcing out a frustrated sigh, “Obviously not, you dumb…” He growled, once again having to stop himself, his cousin’s eyebrows raising, “And what of your father?” 

Emrys glanced around again, slow to process and blinking in shock as he stuttered for a moment. He frowned, “He, uh…he has stayed behind by instruction of your father, I believe.” 

“Where is he?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Figure it out then,” He snapped, grabbing his tunic by the shoulder and forcing him to move a couple of stumbling steps as he began to seek his uncle. His head turned, scanning the room and trying to look through every face that his eyes could find, coming up empty. 

“Get your bloody hand off…” Emrys began to argue, trying to pull from him. Benjicot shoved him, his anger bubbling over, releasing his shirt to allow him to tumble forward. 

“Benjicot!” Serra exclaimed, catching his cousin as he merely missed falling into her and Oscar, wide-eyed and helping him up to his feet, “Are you alright, Emrys?” She asked hurriedly, her tone panicked as she looked at him, visibly concerned. 

The blonde straightened his clothing, scowling as he brushed off her hand from his shoulder, “Yeah, your husband is just being a moody cunt.” He replied. 

Benjicot’s head whipped towards him, pausing his search just long enough to scoff, “You fail to tell me my father has gone off to battle and I’m moody?” He spat. 

“I’m sorry,” Emrys sarcastically shot back, “what would you have had me do? Barge into your room while you were fucking your wife? Yeah, I bet you would have listened to me then.” 

Benjicot lunged forward, being caught by Henry as his arm wrapped around his shoulders to force himself between the two men; the youngest Blackwood being dragged back and out of the way of his grasp by Oscar and Serra. Her body acted as a barrier, forcing Emrys behind her as she flinched away from Benjicot’s hand. 

Benjicot’s gaze was forced upon her by the action, a look of hurt crossing his features as he looked at her, “What the hell is going on here?” 

His gaze tore from hers to the sound of Willem’s voice, stood behind Oscar with Kermit and Lord Elmo, who appeared visibly annoyed by the disruption -- the music had since ceased and all eyes were now on the group who was all heavy breathing and oblivious to the attention their argument had drawn to themselves. Serra quickly stepped away from Emrys, whose hand had instinctively found her elbow, her gaze down as Willem’s eyes focused on the simple gesture with a confused frown. 

“Did you have any intention of telling me my father had taken it upon himself to go off to battle?” Benjicot curtly questioned. 

His uncle hesitated, “Yes, we were going to tell you in the morning. Though I was not expecting you to return tonight, nephew,” He slowly explained. “You were expected to be busy with your… new wife.” 

He tensed, jaw clenching as he roughly shoved Henry’s arm off of him, “And yet here I am.” 

“It appears so,” Willem responded, his tone firmer now. 

“Why did you not join him, then?” He asked. 

“I was given strict instruction to remain here.” 

Benjicot let out a bitter laugh, “For what reason?” 

“To ensure you remain here, should you be stupid enough try to ride out and join your father.” 

Benjicot stared at him, stunned by the admittance as they stood in silence. He shifted his stance uncomfortably, looking around at the crowd that watched, looking down suddenly before he looked up after a long pause, “Why would he do that?” 

Willem sighed, “Because he knows you, Benjicot.” He said, slowly stepping past the young Tully’s and towards his nephew, “As do I. We cannot afford to possibly lose more than is already at stake, especially when that involves the heir, should he be slain in battle.”

He felt like a spoiled child throwing a tantrum over not getting whatever it was they wanted, swallowing thickly as his face burned with shame and clenching his fists at his sides, “We cannot guarantee Serra is with child yet, even if the marriage was successfully consummated-- you remain the apparent heir until that happens. You are where you need to be, Benjicot,” He quietly explained, stepping closer until he was nearly shoulder-to-shoulder with him, “Safe and alive, as we need you. So please…do not make any more of a scene than you already have. Enjoy your wedding. Behave.” 

Benjicot felt the need to look down to avoid his gaze that was pinned to his face, looking down at him and speaking to him with that familiar edge his father possessed whenever he did something that was out of line like a petulant child, his voice calm and low enough that only he could hear it. He hated it with his father, but he hated it more coming from his uncle. He nodded after a moment. 

Willem mirrored his actions by nodding and forcing a strained smile as he muttered, “Good,” he said, turning to face the crowd and clasping a hand on his shoulder, “My apologies, honoured guests. There was just a misunderstanding, but it has been resolved. Please! Continue, enjoy yourselves!” 

His hand dropped from his shoulder, stepping past him to return to wherever he had come from, leaving him frozen in place -- Benjicot felt nauseous again, his heart pounding as he stared at his feet, unwilling to face his family and that of his wife’s that he knew had yet to move on from him; even the room hesitated to move past the scene. His uncle clapped his hands loudly, barking an order at the orchestra, causing the slow resumption of music that could not alleviate the tension within the room. 

There was a slow shuffle of feet, the crowd dispersing around him, “Benjicot?” Serra called out to him, her voice soft and quiet among the whispers. 

He watched as her feet appeared in front of him, visibly pausing before she reached out to him and pressed a hand to his chest, “Benjicot.” She repeated, attempting to gain his attention. 

He could feel every violent thrum of his heart against his ribs, feeling as though his head was trapped underwater while his eyes fixated on the hem of her dress. Her other hand came up to his cheek, her head ducking to find his eyes, “Look at me, Benjicot.” His eyes finally snapped up to hers, teeth and jaw clenched tightly, “It’s okay.” She softly said, her thumb brushing his cheek as his expression softened, leaning into her as if his life depended on it as his body gave out from beneath him. She wrapped an arm around him, her hand moving from his cheek to his nape and bearing his weight against her own.

“It’s okay.” She repeated.

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[dreamerinthemoonlight]

Genshin Guys on Your Birthday (Zhongli, Kaeya, Neuvillette, Wriothesley)

Y'all are getting two posts today. This one now and one from my blog at it's usually scheduled time.

On another note, Happy Birthday to Me!

CW: None, fluff, slightly suggestive in Kaeya's

Zhongli x gn!reader, Kaeya x gn!reader, Neuvillette x gn!reader, Wriothesley x gn!reader

Zhongli

he goes all out on your birthday

Not in a tons of presents kind of way, but you know he spent quite a bit on your birthday present.

I mean, he's a stickler for quality in general, it's just worse on your birthday (don't worry, tartaglia heard it was your birthday and was happy to donate top the cause)

He makes you breakfast in bed (your favorites), schedules lunch at whatever restaurant you want, and cooks you your favorite meal himself for dinner

Depending on your personality he helps H Tao with the planned birthday party or helps you avoid it like the plague

After dinner the two of you curl up on the couch and cuddle until bed

Kaeya

Your birthday is a huge deal and nothing will ever convince him otherwise

For the most part, when he's around you he lets that charming face drop. Not today.

He goes all out. Makes sure you have a big birthday party.

He enlisted Klee's help, so there's a chance something got blown up in the process, cough cough the good hunter stove but the result was a very bright and lively venue

The picnic happens early. After all, there is a kid attending and he has plans for later

Said plans include a picnic (with your choice of drinks, alcoholic or otherwise) and fireworks

He basically begged Jean to let him order B-Day fireworks from Yoimiya, though it didn't actually take that much work. Any kind of collaboration with Inazuma is good in her eyes, and Jean is fond enough of you, it was no issue. (she's also very glad that Kaeya didn't enlist Klee in making the explosives. Yoimiya, she trusts. Klee, not so much.)

And of course, Kaeya does his very best to make sure your satisfied in other ways. If he has his way, you're not walking home. Not that he doesn't mind carrying you. After all, it would be his fault you're boneless and on cloud nine.

Neuvillette

Let's be honest, Sedene thought he was going to have a heart attack in the days weeks leading up to your birthday

Sure, he's dealt with Furina's birthday and his is a public holiday or sorts, but that's not the same as it being your birthday

This is the first time he's celebrated a birthday that isn't a holiday, so he's a bit at a loss as to how to celebrate it

After some research, he figures out that sweets is going to be part of it, but presents? Birthday party? What the heck?

After some thought he enlists both the help of the Melusines (who would be very upset if they didn't get to help) and several humans. Navia in particular was a huge help. (And Wriothesley for making sure to remind Neuvie that Melusines should not be in control of dinner. Neuvie is very smart, but he has a weak spot for the Melusines and they certainly volunteered for the job)

Overall it was the most...interesting birthday party you've ever had. A combination of Melusine and Human decorations, fireworks, and every friend you have. And, of course, the best, most expensive water Teyvat has to offer

Neuvillette plans this for earlier in the day --he decided that taking the day off would be appropriate Wriothesley and Sedene's idea as well so he has time afterward for a more private

The two of you leave the city for the afternoon and walk around the countryside or go swimming. Simply content to spend the time in each other's company. It 100% rains, but that's not unusual

That evening he takes you to an expensive restaurant and gives you the gift he spent far too long picking. It was worth it to see your face though, lighting up like a child. You don't care if your in public when you give him a long, deep kiss in thanks, with a secret vow to make sure his next birthday is even better than he made yours

Wriothesley

Birthdays with Wrio are pretty chill affairs

He makes sure you have time to open the gifts sent from the over world, from the inmates, and from Sigewinne, but after that, no one should expect to see you for the rest of the day and most of the night

Whether it's running around the wilderness, going to the Opera (if the show of the day isn't a trial), or just walking around the city

He's also pretty unsubtle about trying to buy you a bunch of pretty stuff. You're his s/o, he thinks you deserve the world, and at least on your birthday you're willing to let him

But mostly, his gift to you is time and attention. On your birthday it's all about you

If you decide half way through that you want to go home and spend the day just hanging out there too, that's fine by him

And when you go back, only to stumble into the surprise party the inmates and Sigewinne spent the say putting together, well you don't believe it one bit when Wrio said he had nothing to do with it

[swayziiwriter]

Petty | Jude Bellingham

summary: when your best friend Jude decides to avert his attention to a desperate blonde you decide to turn the tables on him with none other then Jadon Sancho.

WARNING: 18+, sexual content

Amongst the blaring music in the club you can still hear his voice. I'm Jude, you're not bad yourself, I could use another drink. The obnoxious blonde who had found her way to Jude now had her hands on him, tracing the collar of his black dress shirt. The worst part about it was that he was letting her.

He didn't even taken a second glance at you, pathetic you thought to yourself. Tonight was supposed to be a night of celebrations, Englands EURO qualifications games were spectacular. Though, you wanted nothing more than to go home. Jude was your best friend, your best friend who you we're undeniably in love with. So coming here tonight was supposed to be your chance of telling him how you felt, but instead you were watching from afar as Jude got felt up by some bimbo.

 You were infuriated beyond extent, your emotions mixed with the alcohol that was coursing through your body was dangerous. All your feelings were heightened, including your sexual drive. You wanted to forget about this constant pain in your heart every time Jude turned up to end up spending the night with some girl. Tired of all the countless nights fixated on how to finally express your emotions you decided that it was time to give him a taste of his own medicine. Jude wasn't clueless about your feelings, a few drunken kisses made sure he knew. But still he never brought it up, instead he avoided it like the plague and you were tired of it.

"Stare any harder and you'll burn a hole in the back of his head" a voice quipped. "That's sort of the point" you seethed, not feeling in much of a positive mood anymore. You recognized the voice immediately, it belonged to Jadon Sancho teammate and friend of Jude. You were across from the bar the huge dance floor in front view. Hundreds of sweaty, drunk and horny people rubbing up against each other hoping to get laid. "Why'd you let him ruin your mood?" He questioned with a smirk. "You can be an asshole sometimes you know that" you replied taking down another shot, the burning sensation in your throat causing you to forget about Jude for just a second.

"Dance with me y/n" Jadon proposed, "oh Jadon I don't thi-" he cut you off with a small chuckle."This isn't for me y/n, this is too show Jude just what he's missing" he continued. Your brain was telling you to say no, yelling at you to take the high road and just ignore Jude for the night. But you couldn't.

Smiling at his genius antics hand in hand you two made your way down to the dance floor. "The hills" starting to echo through the large building as your warm bodies were flushed up against each other, your back to his front. Jude was watching, he had been watching from the second Jadon left his teammate's side to be with you.

Watching as you lightly grinded your body into Jadon's, Jude was livid. Watching as his hands rose up your body had him squirming, a deep feeling in his gut enough for him to want to throw up all the alcohol he had consumed earlier in the night. Dancing with Jadon was funner than expected, he would occasionally whisper subtle "he's looking, ah there he goes squirming again" leaving you to let out genuine laughs, laughs that Jude could hear all to well over the blaring music.

The blonde who had been around Jude for longer than his own liking was soon kicked to the curb as he soon realized you had been doing the same mechanism as him. Making the other one Jealous. Jude let Jadon bring his hands from behind as far as your stomach before he marched towards the dance floor, drink in one hand and nothing in the other. He had left this go on for to long, he couldn't stand the feeling of another man touching you, feeling your soft skin, your perfect lips.

"Oh shit, he's coming over here" Jadon yelled over the music, leaning into your body. "Y/n" Jude yelled over the music, "what Jude" you spat back, still pissed that he had let that blonde touch him. Jadon returned glances between both of you before making the decision to get out of there, sending you an apologetic look as he left you to fend alone against Jude. Jude continued to look at you with wide eyes, expecting an answer. "Can't you take a hint Bellingham I was in the middle of danc-" "dancing?" He interrupted. "You were all over him y/n, fucking hell are you trying to kill me?" He yelled. "Me!?" You replied, "you're the one who's had a bimbo on your ass all night. Sue me for wanting to have some actual fun" you spat.

The air was becoming thick, the tension and smell of sex in the air was becoming suffocating. Your mind felt as if it was running a thousand miles an hour. "If you're not man enough to tell me that you want me, then there's no reason why I shouldn't go fuck around with someone like Jadon" you continued to hurl insults at him before he finally snapped. Crashing his lips against yours in a heated passion.

Your hands were roaming over his chest as his lips worked in sync with yours. Jude gives you a firm but still tender kiss the tension between you and him was killing you both. He's hard about it and tells you he's wanted you for so long, but his touch is still gentle. He is letting you know that he has also always liked you.

The music at the club doesn't bother you. You basically let his tongue investigate your own, and let your bodies press together among all the intensity, strain, and horniness.

Finally, when you both leave the room to get some fresh air, the following events that come after are neglected. In the midst of the sexual tension, horniness, and outright neediness, it is forgotten. The backseat of the taxi you are both in is a blur of hasty movements, hasty kisses, and long groaning awaiting to arrive. When you get to Jude's condo his movements are fast, your back hits his bed the midst of a heavy make out. Clothes, his tie, shoes, and your heels were all left on the floor in the trail of your exasperated needs.

He was hovering over you, taking in every inch of your body as it curved into his, his hard cock hitting your thighs as your body shuddered with pleasure. Jude brought his hand down to your core, teasing your folds as he spoke dirty words into your ear. He slipped two fingers into your dripping pussy, collecting your wetness in between his fingers. 

Your hands gripped at the sheets as he worked on your pussy, fingering you fast to your release. His voice was thick with lust as he felt you clench around him and wrap your legs around his waist as he continued to press his fingers inside of you. "you look so pretty for me baby."

Your back arched from the bed as you watched his beautiful face, and it took all of your inner strength not to cum. "Gonna cum all over my fingers?" He questioned, "be a good girl and cum all over my fingers" you body shook with pleasure white noise talking over as the euphoric feeling took over your body.

You were moaning his name in an attempt to stop the overstimulation on your core. "Wanna feel you" you managed to gasp out between breathes. He pushed your body up the bed, spreading your legs just enough to settle himself in between them, "about to be so ruined for me" he tapped his cock against your wet folds, the action alone making you cry out in frustration. "I'm not going to stop until your dripping with my cum" he said pushing into your tight pussy. Because you didn't anticipate that movement, you let out a small cry of surprise mixed with a moan of pleasure.

To fully appreciate how his cock got inside of you and how your walls tightened around it, you had to close your eyes for a while. He moved inside of you briefly, using only one hand; He placed your leg and the other on his shoulder by lifting your leg; He gave your clit a rub. You had the impression that his thrusts were reaching deeper within you because of the angle your leg was at.

Jude stopped stroking your clit to wrap one of his hands around your neck. You were certain that your moans had already turned into tiny screams while he was deep within you. You arched your back with pleasure. Before you took that forearm and squeezed it, Jude gently stroked the skin on your neck. He probably accepted that as a sign since he applied a touch of tension.

You tried to complain, but all you got was a sound that sounded like you were gasping as his pace picked up. You tried to yell, or at least try to, because your lips were being caressed by his thumb as he continued to press on them. When you were already almost there, your pussy voluntarily tightened around his cock. You were in an orgasmic state when Jude let out a deep growl.

Your pussy continued to pulse around his cock as he followed you a few seconds later. Before rolling next to you, he took your hand out of the ring around his neck. Your lungs were asking for air, your mind was a finished wreck, and your vision obscured until you could slow down and rest. You could feel beads of Judes cum rolling down your sweaty thighs.

You and Jude had given into your needs and it never felt better. You wanted to feel him every where, all the time. He wanted it too, the way his eyes never left yours was evidence of it, the way his body connected with yours was beautiful. You and Jude were in sync, complete with each other.

[divinesolas]

Flowers | The Series | Chapter One | Introductions

Summary | As a lady from a very minor house you are very displeased to be journeying so far away from home for a boring trip. but your first morning tells you this trip is going to much more interesting than you thought.

Pairing | Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem!Reader

Warning’s | Avoiding the use of y/n like a plague, Aegon being an asshole (what's new), not proofread, basically a big set up chapter with more exciting things to happen later on

Word count | 2k

series masterlist

Any house is free to join House Targaryen for Jacaerys bridal choosing celebration starting on the first day of the next moon cycle these festivities will last- 

You can't be bothered to remember the rest of the dreaded letter your family had received along with the rest of the seven kingdoms. Yet another bump in the road brings yet another sigh to rise from your throat. “I don’t see the point in this mother.” Your mother scoffs as she continues to stare out the window, “we are a minor house with little funds, little land and nothing to offer. I must ask once again… why we are wasting our time with this.” The words you speak are true, House dunn a minor house from the reach had barely anything to offer anyone especially not the heir to the iron throne. Your mother turns to you with a glare, “Do not speak about our house like that.” the look on your face makes your mother sigh and soften her face, “look, sweetheart, maybe we can’t impress the prince but there will be numerous other lords there for you to impress, either way i have a feeling we will come out of this moon cycle with your betrothal set.” 

You throw your head back with a groan, “Why must i be betrothed now i am still young-” Your mothers face turned back into her hardened glare to which you turned to your father who sat next to her, staring out the window. “Father” he sighs, “you must make her see reason there is no point in this-” “there is no arguing with your mother you know this better than i.” with a sigh of defeat you lean back in your seat as your mother thanks her husband.  

Kings Landing is within sight now as you turn back to look out the window, the place you’ll sit and watch as all the young (and even old) women of the court throw themselves at the young prince ‘we’re not even there yet and i cannot wait to go home’

The carriage stops suddenly causing you to still up. Your father sticks his head out of the window, “what's happened?” “A tree is blocking the path lord… I do not believe I can move it.” Curious, you move to look out the other window and see a rather large tree blocking the path and the surrounding area. Your father groans before he answers, “Is there another path we can take?” “Of course sir but it would take much longer to see it-” you turn to your mother with a small grin who gives you a pointed look, “See mother this is a sign from the gods that we should not be here!” She glares and sticks her head out the window, “Take the other path and take it now before we miss the opening introduction.” Defeated you fall back as the carriage begins to move once more.

The throne is cold, colder than expected. With each fake smile and extravagant gift accepted, Jacaerys could feel the chair poking him as if to tell him his false actions and words are not appreciated. His lips are almost sore from the amount of hands he’s had to kiss, his cheeks hurt from the fake smile that has sat on his face, He could even argue that his eyes hurt from having to watch as these ladies try their best to impress him and the angry looks from their mothers or the pointed looks from their fathers that turned into large and proud smiles had the prince turned in their direction ‘when will this end? How did mother do something this humiliating for months?’ He remembers when his mother proposed (more like insisting) this event in Jacaerys honor. The council quickly approved as they felt Jace was old enough to marry and it would show the strength and unity of the realm if they all gathered for a ceremony like this. He remembers when the rest of the family was told, “So he’s going to be paraded around the keep like a prized pig.” Aegon giggles and receives a sharp look from his mother. His brothers weren't any better, Luke especially teased his brother as Joffrey laughed along. “The festivities should be fun, it’ll be nice to see them keep so lively.” Jacaerys gives Helaena an appreciative smile, she is able to tell he is beginning to feel upset. 

This morning in his room as the servants were finishing up with getting him ready for today his mother had come into the room and shooed away the servants who bowed as they left, “your grace.” “there's no need for that jacaerys im your mother.” She walks over to him as he looks in the mirror, she puts her hands on his shoulders. “I had to do something similar as a younger lady.” Rhaenyra starts, she moves her hands to the top of his head gently stroking it, “You’re lucky I had to leave home for a couple of months.” She says with a grin as she tries to joke with him but with his shoulders tensing up and his face hardening she can tell he did not take it that way. “I will not let you down your grace.” she sighs as she turns him towards her, puts her hands back on his shoulders. “Jace.” she says and his face softens, “Relax.” He sighs as he looks down, not being able to look at his mother, his queen, the women he is supposed to follow in the footsteps of, in the face. “I Just don’t want to let you down.” She grabs his face softly and makes him look at her in the eyes, “there’s nothing you could do to let me down my sweet, all you need to do is face the day my son.”

He closes his eyes and relaxes once more as his mothers words ring in his head, ‘relax’ “i believe that's everyone my prince.” a genuine smile finds its way onto his face as he stands to address the crowd. He scans the crowd as he thinks ‘no one was memorable, they have three daughter i only remember two, was she always wearing that dress i thought it was blue no maybe i'm mixing her up with someone else’ He stops his own thoughts with a clap of his hands and everyone turns to look at him, “I thank everyone who has come today with my greatest appreciation, i hope everyone enjoys these festivities-” his speech was interrupted with a band as the doors shot open.

“I cannot believe we’ve almost missed it!” your mother says as she pulls your arm through the halls quickly following the guard leading them there, “you’re hurting me-” “oh shush and hurry.”  “I am hurrying.” You grumble but shut up as your other arm is holding a heavy book knowing you're unable to stop her. With another tug at your arm from your mother as her feet quicken as you race through the large halls. Your father follows closely behind with a thoughtful look on his face and his arms full of a rather large bouquet of flowers, though you’re unable to ask as you arrive at the main hall, your mother turns to you and fixes your hair lightly and your father hands you the large bouquet and the door opens with a large bang. All the heads whip back towards you and you feel your skin burn from all the stares. “It seems we’re rather late.” your father mumbles and receives a quick slap to the arm from your mother as she smiles at the crowd. 

“House Dunn my prince there was an incident on the road.” Your father smiles at the guard as your mother pushes you forward, “you first.” she mumbles in your ear as you walk forward with your head down. The eye’s continue to follow as you make your way to the front of the room before the throne. “Your grace.” your father says as you all bow. “We are so sorry for the late arrival-” your father continues but you aren't listening to him you can't not when you can hear the people around you. “Is she really wearing that?” “house dunn? I've never heard of such a house” “why would you bring the crowned prince a book of all things? It looks old even how terrible " "I bet they can’t afford anything better.” “flowers? Why would anyone bring a boy flowers?” The skin on your body suddenly feels hot, your face burns and the dress you wear feels tight. You want to leave. You’re brought back by your mother taping you on the back, “My daughter,” Your father presents you. Dreadfully, you lift your head to face the prince. You give you a curious look as you bow down once more, “your grace.” 

He walks down the steps before the guard next to him can stop him and takes the book from your hands. “Might I ask you what this book is about, My lady?” Your face continues to burn as he inspects it. The words of the people in the room ring around in your head. “It's an old history book, your grace.” The whispers start once more as you continue but his eyes remain locked on you, “I got it during my time in Pentos, the shopkeeper said it contains history that remains unwritten in many of the texts of westeros. I've read it numerous times in a fascinating read-'' The words you say suddenly sound ridiculous to you and you stop, “Many apologies for your grace.” A larger smile graces his face if you were anyone else you would believe to be genuine. “There is nothing to apologize for I am sure I shall enjoy reading it as well.” you cannot meet his eyes as he passes off the book to one of the guards and eye’s the flowers in your hands. “I assume these are for me as well.” He sounds assumed and takes them from you before you could let out a quiet yes. 

“They are White Clovers, your grace.” You say before he can ask, “ These grow on the outskirts of our lands. Every flower has a meaning. I picked these myself specifically for today…” Before you can blurt out more your mother pinches you on the arm. You can hear the quiet gasps of the women around you. ‘She picked them herself, how barbaric.’ Your skin is starting to hurt from how much it is burning, resisting the urge to run out of the room you take a small step back. His look turns thoughtful as he continues to stare, “and what does this mean?” he fills in the gap you left with a small step forward of his own. “Remembrance, I hope you shall remember me, my prince.” Your voice is small as you watch him give off the flowers and lift your hand to grace it with a kiss. “I shall, my lady.” 

You finally meet his eyes in shock, you lose your voice for a second as you look into his mesmerizing eyes you feel as though you could get lost in them, the brown of his eyes captivates. You take in the rest of his face as well, he is much more handsome than you expected, the type of handsome you will never forget. The smile his face holds makes him look even better, he looks like a prince from the storybooks you read as a younger girl. You feel envious of the women who he will choose as she will get to wake up and stare at his face for as long as she shall wish.

 He smiles at you once more before he turns to your father, “Thank you for coming.” Your father smiles and says some more but you cannot wait. You rush a bow and move quickly to the back of the room; the eyes are still following you; it feels like an itch that you cannot scratch.  Jacaerys closes out the ceremony but you cannot be bothered to pay attention to his words as all you want to do is to leave once he closes out and he moves to leave you rush to leave but cannot help but take one more glance at the prince, out of the corner of your eye you swear you saw him take a look at you as well. 

------

a/n: I wanted to make this gn! Reader but i felt like fem reader made more sense sorry :( I chose house Dunn for the house as it has no prominent figures yet has a signet so you can feel free to insert whoever you want! still a little rusty from not having written in forever so sorry in advance. For some clarity I'm basically going off the fact that Otto doesn't succeed and Rhaenyra is named queen, everyone lives in the keep and are happy and alive . Also Baela is never betrothed to Jace but Rhaena and Luke are betrothed! Aemond and Helaena are married instead because Aegon doesn't deserve her. 

[therealcocoshady]

Recovery - Chapter 5

Eminem x Reader (Y/N) fanfiction

Summary : Y/N spends the evening with Marshall after avoiding him for weeks.

Tags : -

For the following weeks, you drowned yourself into your work in order to restrain from thinking about Simon or Marshall. The only people you saw were either at university, at home or at meetings. You were especially grateful for the latter, as you found yourself craving relief from either pills or alcohol. Thankfully, going to meetings and therapy kept you sane and you were able to fight the urge. You went to the studio once or twice, as Jamal invited you, but you sort of avoided Marshall. You saw him, but apart from greetings and small talk you didn’t go out of your way to have actual conversations and meaningful exchanges with him. 

Thursday night came and, for the first time ever, you had the house to yourself. Jamal and Talia were celebrating their fifth anniversary by going on a dinner date. Your best friend was so worried for you that she almost cancelled their plans, much to her boyfriend’s dismay. Thankfully, you had convinced her to leave you alone in the house. 

I’ll be fine, you said. You guys deserve a night out. 

Are you going to be ok ? I’ll have my phone with me and you can call me if you need ! She said. 

Babe, you’re worrying too much. She should be fine for a few hours, Jamal said rolling his eyes. 

Yes ! You said. And I promise the house will be intact when you come back. I won’t set it on fire or anything, you added jokingly. 

You sent them off to their date with a smile. Before closing the door, Jamal looked at you and pulled you in for a quick conversation. 

Look, I know you’ll be fine, we trust you and shit, but you know you can also call Marshall if you need, right ? Actually, it might be cool if you did. He asked about you the other day. I think he misses you at the studio, he said with a wink. 

Really ? You asked. 

Yeah. He seems to really like you. I don’t think I have seen him like this with anyone else. And I’m not dumb, you know. 

What do you mean ? 

I know you like him. 

What ? I don’t, you said with embarrassment.

Is there any other reason why you have avoided him like the plague these past three weeks ? Or any conversation about him ? Jamal asked with a grin. 

It’s… complicated. Can we leave it at that ? You pleaded. 

Look, it’s none of my business, but you like him and he cares a lot about you. It’s all I’m saying, he said before leaving. 

You were kind of intrigued by what Jamal had told you. Had Marshall really asked about you ? If so, why hadn’t he called you directly ? 

After giving it a lot of thought, you decided to text him. 

To : M 

Hey. How are you ? 

You felt your phone buzzing almost immediately. It was him calling you. 

Hey, he said. Are you alright ? 

Yes, you said. How are you ? 

I’m good. 

There was a moment of awkward silence. 

Am I bothering you ? You asked. 

I’m the one who called you, he said with a chuckle. 

Right, you said as you blushed in embarrassment. 

I’m not busy anyway. I’m at home just chilling. Do you want to come over and hang out ? He offered. 

Uh… sure. Text me the address and I’ll get a cab. 

Will do. 

He texted you his address and you quickly got ready. You kind of struggled to choose an outfit. You wanted it to send just the right message : “I made an effort because I want you to see what you missed the other night but I also don’t want you to think I am trying too hard”. After a careful examination of your entire closet, you put on a pair of skinny jeans that showed off your figure, a simple tee-shirt and your hoodie from Uni. You knew the jeans showcased your ass perfectly and, since he had already seen you topless, it was just the area to highlight. 

You called a cab and got to his place. You’d never been here before. You found yourself in front of a mansion that was easily five times as big as your childhood home. You rang the doorbell and were greeted by Marshall who just got out of the shower, all dressed but his hair still wet. You were scared it would be awkward, seeing him for the first time in three weeks, but he greeted you in his usual way, by giving you a hug. Only, it felt a little different this time, probably because it was just the two of you, and you could remember the feeling of his skin against yours. 

Thanks for coming, he said as he led you to the living room. 

I’m happy to see you, you confessed. 

Are you ? I’ll be honest, I kind of thought you were avoiding me, he said with a shrug. You were sort of… distant ? 

I wasn’t sure you wanted to see me either. You haven’t called or visited Talia and Jamal like you usually do. 

I was thinking you might need time to think. 

“About what ?”, you almost asked. But you didn’t. You didn’t want to make things awkward. 

I’m a bit better now, you told him. 

Good.  So… do you want to talk about last time or…? 

Do you think we should ? You asked anxiously. 

You weren’t sure there was a need to add anything. And you were sort of embarrassed at the memory that you jumped on him and he pushed you away. 

I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, he said. 

It’s fine, Marshall. We’re adults, you said. 

So you understand why I pushed you away ? He asked carefully. 

Look, you don’t like me like that, and that’s ok, you said. I acted on impulse. You were here, I was sad and hurt, I needed to change my mind, I was attracted to you and… well, you were here so you remember what came next… 

I think you’re amazing, he rectified. I didn’t want to take advantage of whatever it is that you felt that night. 

You looked at him, biting your lower lip. It’s true that, as horny as you were, you probably weren’t in your right mind. If anything further had happened between the two of you, it might have added to your confusion. You nodded. 

Also, I’ve had time to think about it some more, he admitted. And I know for sure it would have been a bad idea anyway. 

Yeah, maybe, you said, even though you felt a little disappointed. 

I mean, I’m almost twice your age and you’re recovering, so… 

Yeah, yeah, I know, you cut him. 

Even though you knew he was right, you didn’t really want to hear it.

I’m glad we’re on the same page then, he said with a smile. 

Again, I’m sorry. I didn’t want things to be weird. I just… you started. 

I know. We’re cool, he assured you.  

You stared at each other for a few seconds and chuckled. His smile helped you ease a little, although you couldn’t help but feel a tad disappointed. As right as his arguments were, you were having trouble getting the other night out of your head. 

I was about to watch a movie when you called. Want to do that ? He offered. 

Sure. What are we watching ? 

I’m in the mood for something scary. Why don’t you pick ? 

There’s one I haven’t been able to get through, you admitted. It’s « Us ». Have you seen it ?

Really ? You’re that much of a pussy ? He joked. 

Shut up ! It’s really scary, ok ? I had to stop midway. It gave me nightmares. 

I haven’t seen it, but now, you got me intrigued, he admitted. Come on. 

He got up and waited for you to follow him. You were already in the living room in front of a massive TV. You were confused. 

Aren’t we going to watch it here ? 

No. It’ll be better in the home theater, on the big screen, he explained. 

He led you to his movie room that had a big screen and huge couches. It could easily fit twenty people, with plenty of room to spare. The room was complete with a fridge and every couch had pillows and throws on it. Perks of having a lot of money, you guessed. 

Drinks ? He offered while opening the fridge, which seemed to contain all the sorts of alcohol-free beverages you could think of. 

Yeah, sure. I’ll have a Dr Pepper please. 

You sat next to each other and started the movie. The room was pitch black and the only light was coming from the screen. Every scene seemed to startle you, which never failed to make Marshall laugh. 

Come on !!! You can’t tell me that isn’t scary, you said. 

I don’t have time to be scared, you’re shitting your pants for the both of us, he chuckled. 

Shut up, you pouted. 

One very scary scene came up and you spilled your soda all over yourself and Marshall. 

Shit, I’m sorry 

Relax, he said. 

Your top was soaking wet and so were the tee-shirt underneath and your bra. Thankfully your jeans were intact. 

Marshall got up and brought tee-shirts for the two of you to change. 

Give me your clothes, I'll put them in the wash, he said.

You turned around and took your wet clothes off as he did the same. You put on the tee-shirt he gave you and turned back, only to see him shirtless, which made you blush. Thank god the room was still dark enough. He was staring at you intensely. 

Are you alright ? You asked. 

Yeah, he said as he bit his lip while quickly putting on a clean tee-shirt.  

Had he been staring at your naked back ? You found yourself amused by the idea. You were also slightly aroused by the sight of him half naked, even though it was dark and you couldn’t see much. You knew you shouldn’t be thinking about him that way, but you couldn’t help it.  You sat back and resumed the movie. Once again, you jumped at every scene. 

Thank God you don’t have a drink anymore, my wardrobe wouldn’t be big enough to provide changes of clothes, he laughed. 

Shut up, you said. 

Quit the attitude, he playfully warned you. Or I’ll leave you alone to watch the movie. 

Please don’t, you pleaded.

The only reason you kept watching is because you were with him. You were so scared you wouldn’t be able to watch it on your own. Especially in such a big house. 

What is so scary anyway ? He asked. I mean, it’s kind of creepy but it’s not too bad. 

There’s just something about the atmosphere you know ? You explained. Also, I once got lost in a fun fair when I was four and it reminds me of that time. I thought I’d never find my dad back. My mom had died a couple of years before and I… I thought I would never have a family again.It was super scary. 

He nodded and put his arm around your shoulders. 

Better ? He asked. 

Mmmh, you nodded as you felt yourself blushing. 

You rested your head on his shoulder and watched the rest of the movie. 

God you move so much it’s impossible to focus, Marshall complained. I should tie you up or something. 

You stared at him with your mouth slightly opened as you waited for him to realize what he had just said. 

Not like that. Idiot, he rolled his eyes laughing.  

Perv, you said playfully. 

Don’t start, he warned you with a smile. 

You bit your lip, knowing full well you could be bratty enough to indeed start. However, you decided to be reasonable and not to do anything. 

We have about twenty minutes of movie left. You think you can sit still ? He asked with a grin. 

You rolled your eyes and watched the screen as your only answer. Only you weren’t really watching. Your mind wandered and you thought of Marshall’s touch as his hand grazed your arm. His words came to mind. You wouldn’t be against him tying you… you gnawed on your lip. You were a horny mess. You had been for about three weeks now. You took a look at him, focused on the screen.  It was hard not to stare at his face. His blue eyes, his nose, his perfect lips. You didn’t really believe in God, but if He did exist, Marshall was a fine specimen of His creation. You forced yourself to look at the screen but soon found yourself burying your face in Marshall’s neck as a screamer scene came on. He jumped a bit, probably more startled by you than the movie. 

Pussy, he whispered before laughing. 

You didn’t reply, your face still in his neck, but you still lifted your middle finger in his face. As a response, he firmly grabbed your wrist and put your hand down. He let out a sigh. 

I’m gonna have to teach you some manners, Y/N, he scolded you. 

You started it, you replied. 

Still, you should learn how to respect your elders, he joked. 

Ok grandpa, you whispered in his ear. 

Fuck you, you brat. 

You let out a laugh as the movie came to an end. You were still in Marshall’s arms and, even though you were glad the movie was over, you wanted the moment to last a bit longer. 

So ? You liked the movie ? You asked. 

I did enjoy the few parts I could focus on, he said with a smile. You know, when you weren’t ruining my clothes or jumping on me. 

It was scary ! You defended yourself. 

Some parts were kinda creepy, he admitted. But you’re worse than a kid with ADHD ! 

I’m not ! 

You are. And it’s the last time I’m ever watching a movie with you, he said with a laugh.

You pretended to pout as you crossed your arms to your chest. Marshall proceeded to ignore you as he got up to turn off the movie and turn on the lights. 

Pouting won’t work, he said with a grin. Three kids, remember ? 

You playfully rolled your eyes at his comment. 

Behave, Y/N, he said. 

Make me, old man.

Before you could move, he was pinning you to the couch, crushing you with his weight. 

Now, you better apologize to me, he said with a smirk. 

In your dreams, maybe, you replied. 

He proceeded to put even more weight on you, crushing you even more. You could hardly breathe. 

Marshall… you pleaded. 

Apologize, he said playfully yet firmly.  

You ignored his order as you tried to squirm from under him. He did his best to pin you down, grabbing your wrists in his hand and holding your arms over your head. It was not the desired effect but you found the situation extremely hot. To be fair, you didn’t need much. Without really meaning to, you let out a soft moan. 

Y/N… Marshall groaned. 

God, your name in his mouth sounded so hot. You looked at him with so much desire. He closed his eyes and maintained his firm grip on your wrists. 

You’re a brat, he whispered in your ears. 

That’s why you like me, you whispered back. 

Fuck it, he said as his eyes darkened and his face moved closer to yours.

[katelynnwrites]

i can do it with a broken heart | laura freigang

warnings: angst with no happy ending

word count: 831

summary: you're determined to fake it 'til you make it, even with a broken heart. also known as your the reader's perspective of down bad

a/n: the third installation of my 'the anthology' blurbs series

you can feel laura’s gaze on you, from across the locker room.

a few short weeks ago, you would have blushed and teasingly told her that it’s rude to stare.

now, it makes your heart clench so you plaster a large smile on your face and turn to look at tanja, starting an intentionally cheerful conversation.

it is impossibly hard for you to ignore the blonde, especially when her eyes are on you again, this time in the club as you and your teammates celebrate the club’s win.

in stilettos, you have a drink in hand, a pretty sequined dress on and your makeup is done to perfection.

she’s sitting alone, at a table by the side of the bar and you can practically read her mind. you know her well enough for that.

‘she’s having the time of her life.’

well you can show her lies.

you can show up to trainings on time. you can attend every team bonding with a bright expression. you can do it all. even if it’s killing you inside.

because you’re a real tough kid. you can handle your shit.

after all they say you gotta fake it ‘til you make it. and you will.

so the one thing on your mind, repeating over and over as you push through each and every day is ‘lights, camera, bitch smile.’

even when you wanna die, you will do it.

your ex said she would love you all her life.

you believed her. you still do because you see the dark circles she has. she’s clearly devastated and barely holding herself together.

and you know it is all your fault for breaking up with her.

but you had to. had to because you love her so much. you trust her excessively and before you fall any harder for her, you needed to stop yourself.

it would have hurt too much when you landed and you know that if you allowed laura to love you the way she wanted any longer, there would be no coming back from that kind of pain.

so for your own sake, you had to leave her. even though it gives you overwhelming guilt to break her heart.

but you can grin like you’re winning and you can hit all your marks.

you’re playing better than ever because you know you are good. you know you’re good because you can do it, even with a broken heart.

you cry a lot now that you have left the striker but you are still so productive that one could consider it an art.

really, it’s only through the extensive uses of subtle makeup, face masks, cooling eye packs and the odd frozen metal teaspoon that no one has noticed it yet.

most of your relationship with laura was spent staying over in her apartment but there were nights that were spent in yours.

more than a few if the way you keep finding her things in your drawers is anything to go by.

first it was a old penn state sweatshirt. the next, one of her retro frankfurt jerseys.

now it’s her favourite pair of jeans.

you choke on your tears when you find it among your own clothes.

she’d worn them to your first date.

laura might keep looking at you but she avoids you like the plague otherwise. she doesn’t want to walk near your cubby in the locker room or be in the same training group as you.

she must hate you and you can’t blame her.

it is part of the reason why you cannot bear to return any of her things to her. they are the last tangible memories you have left of her, crucial evidence that for a brief time, you had the love of your life.

you feel like you’re drowning in your grief now but you can hold your breath.

because you’re a real tough kid. you can handle your shit. there is no reason to drag the german woman back into it, if she would even deign to give you the time of day.

so breaking down, you’ll hit the floor. all the pieces of you shattering as the fans chant, ‘more!’.

you might be depressed and you might be struggling but you will be damned if you’re not doing your best.

you will show up at trainings and team bondings on time, with a happy grin fixed on your face. you will only post the most positive and staged content on your social medias and you will not let any of your teammates or most importantly laura herself, see just how not okay you are.

‘lights, camera, bitch smile.’ you think once again.

even when you wanna die, you’re doing good. you know you’re good because you’re miserable and nobody even knows.

you swore that you would fake it ‘til you make it and you’re doing it.

it’s your new job and you are not going to let anyone try to come for it.

[mvltisstuff]

Hey! Can you please do a enemies to lovers (both in 118) with eddie diaz? Thanks:)

chasing pavements - e.d

summary: request

eddie diaz x reader

gif from @agentoutofdiaz

a/n: THREE MORE FINALS GUYS I GOT THIS 🤌🤌 also i am absolutely not up to par with the quality of my enemies to lovers, but i hope you still enjoy 😉

y/n asked herself the same question every single day at the beginning of her shift. what had she done to make eddie hate her so much? it seemed like he physically was unable to smile when she was around. he avoided her like the plague when in reality, she just wanted to be professional about this.

it’s a natural human response to dislike someone back. people never want to be hated and often get frustrated with the other person involved. y/n always thought the word was too harsh, always regretting it when she said it, but there was no other word to describe their relationship.

eddie’s life has been nothing but uncertainty. having a life with nothing to expect led him to loneliness, craving any form of relationship he had. after the army, he struggled with trying to get back to reality. y/n brought him back too easily, and it irked him.

it didn’t help that she was eerily similar to him personality wise. he hates to admit it, but y/n reminds him of all the things he wishes he could change in himself and she is the constant reminder of that. he couldn’t pick something specific out that he didn’t like through all the time of being bugged by her.

as a prime example, y/n walked into work that morning and almost instantly, eddie’s laugh faded away. she wasn’t even going to say anything, she couldn’t deal with him with everything else going on. her family has been on her case the past few weeks and it doesn’t seem to be over. she’s completely burnt out, eddie being part of the ash. she still showed up at work at the 118, perfectly on time for everyone else is her escape.

there’s no denying that she is a wonderful addition to the 118. she’s wildly talented in her field and knows exactly where she’s needed. she’s looked up upon by her coworkers.

“hey, y/n!” buck says, excited to see his friend.

“hi, buck,” she replies, lightly smiling trying to shield any thoughts from eddie or what she’s dealing with. she looks around at everyone, picking around at the bowl of fruit someone had cut up. the team had noticed she’d been off, zoning out and not celebrating with them as much. the thought she was avoiding them after work, and she really was.

she figured anything eddie had to say to her would just add to the pile of stress that she had, so she let him go out with the team for drinks and other stuff. everyone loved eddie, and if she caused problems with him, she thought they’d take his side without hearing the story.

of course, the affect of athena has rub off on bobby and his investigation. he wanted to have a little fun, seeing how bad y/n and eddie were together. he knew working together and saving people would be fine, so he decided to put them on ambulance together. of course, both of them thought they’d been denied to get through the gates of heaven when bobby passed out the demand. the first call was simple, driving to the hospital silently other than vital checks and orders. the next was too, neither of them speaking to each other unless they were administering something. the last call was particularly difficult for y/n, being a close reminder of what she had to deal with at home.

it was just a little kid, being the scapegoat of all the families problems. all the fights, he sat and listened to something he couldn’t control. he was so little that he called 911 out of fear, the police and the ambulance showing up. y/n was relieved no one was actually hurt and no one needed to go to the hospital, but something about it really sent her over the edge.

she was driving the ambulance back to the station, eddie in the passengers seat. she said harmless words to him, “poor kid, it sucks having to deal with that.”

“well, there’s nothing we can do. cant intervene.”

“i know, i just wish i could’ve helped-“

“what could you have helped, y/n?” he interrupts abruptly, causing her to glance at him. “clearly, you have no clue what it’s like to go through that because you wouldn’t be so caught up on it. it’s not like you would’ve made a difference anyway.”

his words were like a sword in her chest. there’s no way he really things she’s no help. the impact she’s made in the community is noticeable, and she tries so hard everyday to make the own community of her last name come together. he was hitting way too close to home, and it was her last straw before the light tears formed on her waterline. she blinked them away, trying to clear her sight but the stinging in her eyes kept bringing them up. she was already embarrassed enough, and crying in front of her the person who hated her was even more humiliating.

“jesus, y/n,” eddie mocks. “you’re a damn adult, there’s no valid reason to be crying right now.”

as they get closer to the station, she pulls into the garage, parking carefully before she shakily shoves her door open. thank god her shift ended before his did, so she could get out of this hellhole. “screw you, diaz,” she says as one final press to his button. he leans back in his seat, not expecting her to retort back to him.

she rubs her red eyes, shuffling out of the car and abandoning the ambulance behind her. eddie couldn’t even bring himself to get out. he thought he might be having a heart attack because of the new feeling he has. did he feel bad for her? he didn’t think that was possible, she’d had enough pity come her way. when y/n walked past everyone and into the showers, hen, chim, and buck gave him a look that had, “are you serious?” written all over their faces. y/n scrubbed off every last word she had received from eddie, or she tried, at least. they stuck with her like a spider in a trap, along with the other baggage she’d been carrying.

the alarm had gone off while she was in the showers, telling her that eddie was gone on a call with the rest of the team. she went into the locker rooms to get the rest of her stuff and leave this exhausting day behind her. she was shoving her stuff into her duffel bag when eddie’s phone started going wild in his cabinet. he usually brings it on calls. she didn’t let the curiosity get the best of her, needing no more reminders of him in her mind. so, she climbed into her car and started the drive home, even though nothing would be different there.

she notices someone sitting on the sidewalk against the stairs of a building. she knew who it was instantly. eddie’s son, christopher, had been waiting outside which was very odd. school had ended a while ago. his red crutches were sitting next to him and he looked around desperately for anyone he knew. she knew she couldn’t leave him there, and eddie didn’t have his phone, so she pulled into the parking lot next to the building.

“christopher? what are you doing here?”

“tía was supposed to pick me up but she didn’t show up, so i was gonna walk home.”

“oh, buddy. i’d call your dad but he’s on a call.”

“i just want to go home,” chris says, making a frown form on y/n’s face.

“you have a key, right?” christopher nods. “here, i’ll bring you home and i can make you something to eat.”

she helps him get into the car and he tells her where to go, eventually pulling up the the house of eddie. he’d probably flip his shit if he knew she was here, but he’d want his son safe at home more. it’s not like she could’ve taken him to her apartment, eddie would be livid.

the 118 had arrived back at the station, putting away their gear and setting their stuff back where it should be. eddie had overheard someone say that there were repeated calls to someone in the locker room, so he decided he should probably check his phone. his heart skipped a beat when he saw his tías name flashing across the screen a million times. “tía! ¿que paso?”

“it’s christopher! i completely forgot he was getting out at a different time and i was picking him up,” eddie hears her say and he almost drops his phone to the ground. “i went to the school, and he wasn’t there, edmundo.”

“what?” he says. “ok, i’m leaving now, i’ll go look. maybe another parent dropped him off.”

eddie speeds over to his home, passing all the cars slower than him. he would never recover if something happened to chris. he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. he slams his car door shut, running to the door and frantically turning the doorknob. he rapidly moves inside, shouting christopher’s name, praying for a reply. he walks into the kitchen to see y/n standing over a boiling pot, and his face goes pale as a ghost when he sees her.

“he’s in the living room with headphones on. i found him trying to walk home,” y/n tells him.

“where was he?”

“the offices on north west,” she takes notices of his expression. “i’m sorry, eddie. i can leave in a minute. i would’ve called you, but-“

“no apologizing, don’t worry about it,” he says, calmly. “thank you. so much, y/n, thank you.”

she nods, smiling lightly because this might get her in the door a bit better. “it’s really not a problem. i was happy to do this for him, i just wanted him safe for you.”

she begins to gather her belongings like her phone and wallet, putting it back into her purse and picking up.

“y/n, wait,” eddie says, placing a hand on her arm. “i have to say i’m sorry. i was nothing but a complete dick for no reason and i had no clue you had so much going on. i got yelled at by hen and was told to lay off.”

y/n laughs a bit, “are you only saying this because hen told you to?”

“absolutely not. y/n, you just saved my son. god only knows what could’ve happened, i mean we live in a massive city. it means the world to me that you were there for him when i couldn’t be. i’ve treated you like shit and you’ve never even done a bad thing. you just… scared me.”

“i scared you? i think you can take the prize there, eddie.”

“ok, maybe not scared, but i was intimidated. because i see so much of myself in you and i couldn’t handle that.”

“it’s ok, really. i just need breather for a little. i am that little kid that we got called to today and you completely disregarded it. i would have never done that to you.”

“i never, ever want to make you feel like that again. i want to make this work, you and i. so, stay for dinner tonight. you already went through the hassle of cooking for him, why don’t you eat it?”

“i’m happy to make boxed mac and cheese for him anytime, eddie. and i’m here for you and your kid whenever you need it.” she and eddie sit down at the table, letting whatever was on their chest come out as christopher played video games in the other room.

[beanjang-draws]

Plague Ponies - Research

CONTENT WARNINGS: no gore

Previous | Next

Summary:

Twilight doesn’t want to admit it, but things in Equestrian haven’t been in tip-top shape recently. It looks like even Princess Celestia has judged that the news cycle has been too grim as of late, as she’s instructed Twilight not to make a public statement about the number of ponies who fell ill after the Everfree attack.

With the help of her number one assistant, Twilight tries to figure out how exactly to quietly prep for an epidemic when they both remember: Granny Smith is super old! She must know what to do? Wait, Pinkie? What are you doing here?!

Twilight and Pinkie end up going to Sweet Apple Acres together, where Twilight is given a book that just might contain the answers she needs. Now to decide her next course of action…should she go back to the orchard and head home now, or should she indulge for just a second in Apple Bloom’s request to check on her project?

Transcript below:

Twilight Sparkle: Thank you for understanding, Doctor. I’ll send word immediately if anything changes.

Greymare: Of course, Princess. We appreciate your generosity. Everything should be ready within the week.

Twilight: Of course. If you’re in need of any more funds, tell the distributors to contact me.

Doctor Greymare bids his farewells to Princess Twilight and takes his leave. Twilight heads back inside the library, where Spike is looking on with concern.

Spike: Twilight…are you sure we shouldn’t tell everypony now? If everypony in Ponyville really is infected, shouldn’t they all know?

Twilight Sparkle: I don’t like delaying things either, Spike, but you read Princess Celestia’s letter out yourself. Our priority is to avoid panic until we know we can answer their inevitable questions.

Spike: I guess that makes sense…hearing about another disaster after the last string of disasters would make everypony totally freak out!

Twilight Sparkle: Spike!

Spike: What? Im agreeing with you! It’s a bad idea to tell everypony about an epidemic after a discord came back, got better, accidentally caused the princesses’ kidnappings, delayed the Summer Sun Celebration—

Twilight Sparkle: SPIKE

Spike lets up after Twilight’s outburst, looking amused as she takes a breath to collect herself.

Twilight Sparkle: Maybe things haven’t been the most…stable, lately, but the princesses have everything under control. Plus, I’ve been reading up on epidemiology and it’s normal for new pathogens to crop up every few decades. We just have to be prepared for them!

Spike: Oh, perfect! You’re the most prepared pony I know!

Twilight loses her composure entirely.

Twilight Sparkle: BUT I’M NOT PREPARED! I’M THE ONE WHO’S SUPPOSED TO TAKE CARE OF PONYVILLE NOW, BUT I CAN’T EVEN KEEP IT SAFE. ALL I’VE DONE IS LEARN TO FLY AND MEMORIZE PRINCESS ETIQUETTE. THAT’S NOT GOING TO HELP ANYPONY!

Spike: Hey, you’ve been busy saving all of Equestria! You didn’t prepare for that either, but it went fine in the end because of your friends.

Twilight Sparkle: I guess so…

Spike: If these diseases pop up every now and then, Ponyville must have had some experience with this sort of thing before. You just finished talking to Doctor Greymare, right? Maybe he could help.

Twilight Sparkle: That’s just the thing, Spike. He said he hasn’t heard of anything like this before, at least not while he’s been running the hospital.

Spike: Is there anypony who might know what happened before him?

Twilight Sparkle: You would have to be ancient to remember anything further back than that. You’ve have to be…

The cogs in Twilight’s head begun to turn, and she and Spike come to the same conclusion simultaneously.

Twilight Sparkle and Spike: Somepony old like Granny Smith!

Twilight Sparkle: Spike, you’re a genius!

Spike: Bah, this is just a run of the mill performance from your number one assistant.

Twilight Sparkle: We should head to Sweet Apple Acres right now—

Suddenly, Pinkie Pie bursts in out of nowhere.

Pinkie Pie: TWILIGHT!!!! SOMETHING BIG IS COMING!!!!!!! THE FATE OF PONYVILLE DEPENDS ON IT

Spike: Pinkie, could you bring down the volume a little? My ears have been sensitive lately…

Pinkie Pie: Oh, sorry, Spike! The fate of Ponyville depends on it!

Spike: Thanks

Twilight Sparkle: Is it your Pinkie sense? Can you feel something bad coming?

Pinkie Pie: Yes! It’s big! Huge! Even bigger and huger than the time you believed in my Pinkie sense!

Spike: Wow, that IS big.

Twilight Sparkle: Well, if it’s so serious, we should tell everypony to stay indoors for the time being.

Pinkie Pie: Waaay ahead of you, Twilight! I already warned everypony not to take any unnecessary journeys on the way here.

Twilight Sparkle: Thank you Pinkie, you’ve saved us a lot of time. Now we can—

Pinkie Pie: —consult Granny Smith for her firsthoof account on Ponyville’s history of health and safety protocols?

Twilight Sparkle: …I won’t even ask. Yes, Pinkie, we’re doing just that.

Pinkie Pie: That’s a great idea, Twilight! Lead the way :3

Twilight Sparkle: Alright, let’s get to Sweet Apple Acres.

Pinkie Pie and Twilight Sparkle begin to clear out to head to the farm. Twilight notices Spike hasn’t made moves to join them, so she sticks her head back inside to check on him.

Twilight Sparkle: Spike, aren’t you coming?

Spike: You know, Twilight, if staying indoors is so important, I think I’d better stay here and…make sure Owlowicious doesn’t go wandering around while you’re gone.

Twilight Sparkle: Alright, number one assistant! I’m leaving the library under your watch. We shouldn’t be gone too long.

It looks like most Ponyville Residents have caught wind of Pinkie’s warnings! Twilight and Pinkie only see a few ponies out and about on their way to Sweet Apple Acres. this far out, the news hasn’t yet reached the Apples, who are occupied with a busy apple bucking season.

Applejack: Howdy y’all! What brings you down to the farm?

Pinkie Pie: My Pinkie sense has been going off all morning! Im not sure what this one means!

Twilight Sparkle: But I think I could figure it out. AJ, could I talk to Granny Smith?

Applejack: Sure thing! She shouldn’t have hunkered down for her afternoon nap just yet.

Twilight Sparkle: Alright, girls, I’ll be right back.

Pinkie Pie: I’ll stay with Applejack and lend a hoof with the apples!

Applejack: You know what, that’d be mighty helpful of you, Pinkie! Big Mac’s been sick, so I’ve been buckin’ these trees all on my own!

Twilight goes off to see Granny Smith on her own.

Twilight Sparkle: Hello, Granny Smith! Sorry to barge in on you like this..

Granny Smith: Not at all, dearie. In fact, you ought to visit more often! I hear so much about you from Apple Bloom, you really should stay for supper one of these days and tell us about your lessons yourself!

Twilight Sparkle: Thank you, Granny. I’ll make sure to visit more often. Unfortunately, I didn’t come by just to say hi today. I actually did have a few questions for you.

Granny Smith: Of course! Ask away, dear, I’m all ears.

Twilight Sparkle: Have there ever been any emergency health and safety protocols in Ponyville?

Granny Smith: Emergency what now?

Twilight Sparkle: Have there been any outbreaks of sickness in Ponyville in the past? Did the town have a way of dealing with them?

Granny Smith: Oh! You just mean the plague ponies. Hold on dear, I know I’ve got a book back here somewhere…it’s been sitting collecting dust! A sign of better times, I reckon…now if only I could find it…

Granny Smith begins rummaging around the house looking for the aforementioned book.

Twilight Sparkle: I think this might be just the thing I need! I haven’t heard of plague ponies before. None of my books mention them at all.

Granny Smith: Oh, your fancy city books wouldn’t have anything on this.

Granny Smith returns with a beat up looking book on hoof.

Granny Smith: I knew I still had one laying around!

Twilight Sparkle: Thank you, Granny. Um, what it is?

Granny Smith: It’s a home remedy book! Back when the town was first settling, we had all sorts of sicknesses popping up. Prob’ly from all the different ponies coming together. Without much of a way to reach Canterlot yet, we couldn’t get aid from the big city for any fancy doctor magic.

Twilight Sparkle: Oh…I had no idea that happened.

Granny Smith: Heh-heh…I’m not surprised they didn’t teach you this in your Canterlot history classes…What city pony aid we lacked, we made up for in home remedies. We each of us came together and pooled our knowledge in books like these. Here, you take this. This one’s got some of my own notes in it. Maybe you could add your own!

Twilight Sparkle: I couldn’t possibly take this from you! It’s a part of your history…

Granny Smith: It’s yours, too. And it’s doing nopony any good collecting dust with me. Just promise me to read every bit of it.

Twilight Sparkle: …Thank you, Granny. I will.

Granny Smith: Alright, now I’m off to hit the hay. Apple Bloom, you should show Twilight your plant project in the barn!

Granny Smith turns to go and take her afternoon nap. Apple Bloom appears, eager to get her turn talking to Twilight.

Twilight Sparkle: Ooh, have you figured out how to get your subjects to multiply?

Apple Bloom: I sure did!! I made the adjustments you told me to and added a little something of my own! You’ve gotta come and see it!!

POLL: Should Twilight go see Apple Bloom’s Project?

RESULT: Yes

End transcript

[jadedxhearts]

𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰

Monet seems to ignore the fact that Law is your husband, constantly flirting with him and insulting you. One evening, after she gets too bold, you and Law make a plan that will let her know he’s yours and only yours.

originally posted on Feb 27, 2023

Please note that this is an old work and isn't representative of my current writing skills!

When you’d joined Law on his trip to Punk Hazard to begin the execution of his plan, you really didn’t know what to expect.

You knew to expect cold weather, at the very least. Or even extreme hot temperatures. But you wouldn’t be heading over to that side of the island.

You also knew that there was some strange scientist guy who lived in the once abandoned laboratory. Law had mentioned him being rather annoying. 

But what you did not expect was for the scientist’s assistant to be such a bitch. The green haired woman seemed to have a vendetta against you from day one, constantly acting passive aggressive and treating you as though you were inferior to her.

One of the incidents, you couldn’t even remember what the conversation had been about; all you remembered from before the incident was that you’d been sitting with Law in the lounge room, waiting for dinner to be ready.

The bird-woman was reading a book, as was Law. You simply leaned against your husband, occasionally looking into his book and reading along. But truthfully, you weren’t very interested.

“Law,” Monet called, “this book is rather interesting, I think you should read it, as a fellow intellectual being. You’d understand it more…”

“More?” He questioned, not even looking in the woman’s direction.

“Hm,” she hummed as though she were giggling, “well, no offense, but I don’t think somebody is smart enough to truly know what this book’s deeper meaning is.”

You knew it was a dig at you. “Excuse me?” You piped up, glaring in her direction. 

“Oh, did I let that slip?” she laughed. “You’re just… you know…”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re implying, but you can fuck off, Monet,” you snapped before turning to your husband. “Law, can we please eat in our room tonight?”

“To think such an intelligent man would want to share a room, let alone his life, with a woman like her,” she muttered. “Odd.”

“Shut the fuck up!” You yelled, grabbing Law by his wrists and pulling him up from the couch and dragging him out of the lounge. 

That was a couple weeks ago now. You’d been avoiding the woman like the plague, seeing her maybe twice since that evening. 

Tonight though, you’d have to face her and her bullshit once again.

—

Caesar had demanded all the “important” people come have dinner together, with drinks and excellent food promised. Some sort of party, you supposed. For what reason though? It wasn’t like any of you had anything to celebrate.

Regardless, you followed your husband to the lounge room, which you found to be more decorated than usual when you entered the room. 

There was a table put out in the middle of the room, plates and wine glasses at each seat. Along with name tags. Apparently there was a seating chart. Great.

You went to check it out, only to look at the arrangement in horror. 

Of course, you’d been placed next to Law. But… directly next to him, on the opposite side from you, was a little card that read “Monet” in a fancy font.

“Absolutely not,” you protested, gaining Law’s attention.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, turning to look where you were.

Then he saw it. “Great. Bet that asshole did it on purpose, too.”

“This is so stupid,” you pouted. “Why can’t we just eat where we want?!”

But it seemed as if you had no choice, so you sat down.

—

Halfway through dinner, and you found yourself somehow not being verbally attacked every five minutes. In fact, Monet hadn’t said a word to you or Law. Really, you were shocked she was capable of keeping her mouth shut for more than five minutes. Maybe she’d finally learned to do so?

Until right as dessert was being brought out. You’d assumed wrongly.

“Oh my,” the green haired woman mused, picking at the pastry with her fork, “this looks delicious, doesn’t it Law?”

“No,” he deadpanned. 

“No?” She echoed, “Not a fan of sweets?”

Law didn’t respond. 

“That’s too bad, I was hoping to maybe take you out on a date, treat you real sweet. Much sweeter than that tramp over there could.”

You slammed your hands onto the table, accidentally gaining everybody’s attention. 

“What’s you’re fucking deal, bitch?!” You screamed at her, staring with an amount of hatred you didn’t even know you were capable of feeling. 

You were shaking, your throat feeling as though it were closing up. And why were you about to cry? Because some jealous woman called you a name?

Monet only laughed, though. “Oh goodness. It seems I’ve upset her.”

“I’m sick of your bullshit, Monet! Stay the fuck away from me and my husband,” you yelled, putting emphasis on the fact that Law was already yours; just to spite her.

Before she could react, Law stood up and pulled you away from the table, out of the room. 

“L-Law! What are you doing?! I need to tear that bitch’s hair out!” You protested.

“As much as I’d love to see that,” Law grumbled, “there’s something else I want to do.”

You had no clue what that could mean. Until you reached the room you shared with Law, and he promptly pushed you onto the bed, suddenly kissing you.

“What’s your deal, Law?! Why are you- oh,” you whined as he sucked on the skin around your collarbone. 

“I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t find that hot,” Law smirked into your skin, “my husband,” he repeated your words from before.

“H-huh? You what-“

“I like it when you’re jealous, y/n-ya. It’s cute.”

“J-jealous?! No, that’s not it-“ you denied his words.

“Don’t lie,” he nipped at your skin to make you shut up. “I see the way you glare at any girls who look my way, how you move to sit in my lap when we’re at taverns and random women approach. And now this…

“It’s hot,” he said, kissing you directly on the lips. “But now… I intend to let her know who’s mine. Whom the only person that can have my heart is.”

“What?” You questioned. His statement was rather sweet, but you were confused, “how? We’re locked away in here…”

“Don’t forget who our neighbor is,” Law reminded you.

That’s right… Monet did sleep in the room to the left of your’s and Law’s. If you were noisy enough, she’d hear, even through the thick metal walls. You knew this because one morning she’d insulted you for talking so loudly the previous night. Naturally, you’d been talking about your dislike of her after she’d made yet another comment about you earlier that day.

Law’s tattooed hand cupped your face and pulled it toward himself, deepening the kiss, and then he began sucking on your tongue. When his other hand brushed against your breasts only to land just above them, holding you down, you let out a soft whine.

“I’m gonna make you scream so loud that Caesar asshole will kick us off this damned island,” Law muttered, biting down on the already marked skin on your neck. 

“Law,” you whined, leaning into his touch. “Please…”

“Please what?”

“Please… fuck me,” you panted, feeling dizzy. 

You didn’t have to ask Law twice. He made quick work of pulling everything you wore off, stripping you down to only your panties before he threw the long fuzzy coat he wore off of himself. 

He began palming at your breasts, squeezing them and brushing his thumbs over your hardened nipples. All the while kissing you again, only this time he was fully making out with you, leaving your mixed saliva all around your lips, the loud wet noises filling the air every time your mouths reconnected.

One of his hands left your chest to begin rubbing your covered cunt, pressing his fingers into the fabric of your panties and pushing against them so hard they turned wet with your slick. 

“L-Law!” You gasped, grabbing his hair and turning your head to the side. 

Removing his other hand from your breast, he grabbed your face and pulled it back towards his, locking you in place. 

Deciding you were wet enough, Law pushed your panties aside, gathering your wetness around two of his fingers before inserting them into your tight cunt. 

You moaned into the kiss, bucking your hips into his hand. 

“So impatient,” Law sighed as though he were disappointed. 

He scissored his fingers within you, seeing if he could stretch you enough to insert a third so soon. 

Feeling the third tattooed digit enter, you cried out louder than before. 

Law fingered you at a quick pace, encouraging you to come on his fingers and cry for him. “Come on, cum, you little slut. Cum around my fingers so you’ll scream even louder when I shove my cock in your sore pussy.”

His words were enough to send you over the edge for the first time. You pulled on his hair and moaned into his mouth, lifting your hips up into his hand as you came. 

“Good girl,” he praised, pulling his fingers out of your soaked cunt and licking the juices off.

Once he was satisfied with the cleanliness of his hand, he pulled his jeans down and prepared himself for you, revealing his hardened cock as he freed it.

He moved to position himself between your legs, but you snapped them shut. “N-no, it’s too much,” you whined. “Too sensitive.”

“I don’t care,” Law spat, shoving your legs open with his free hand. “That’ll make it better, don’t you see? This way you’ll scream louder, and that stupid woman will hear you. She’ll finally know who owns me.”

You shuddered. You’d expect Law to say possessive things like “I own you”, but you owning him? That was new. But… you liked the way you’d felt when he’d said it.

“Beg for it,” Law demanded, rubbing his cock along your wet folds.

“Ah, fuck- I need you, Law-“ you moaned, “need you to fuck me, fill me up with your cum, please!”

“Fill you up? That wasn’t discussed before,” Law chuckled, the hand that wasn’t holding his cock moving to brush against your clit.

“Y-yes! I need to be bred like a bitch,” you shouted, surprised you could even speak like this. “Breed me so that brat knows who I belong to, please, Law.”

Without another word, Law lined himself up with your hole and began pushing in, stretching your velvety walls. You whined as he began filling out more, before purposely moaning as loud as you could;

“Oh, fuck, you’re so big, Law! I can’t take it-“ you threw your head back into the mattress, squeezing your legs around his hips.

“Yes you can, you’ll take it like the stupid little slut you are,” Law pulled your legs off of his hips and moved them to his shoulders, pushing further into you and deepening his cock so far that you were afraid he’d somehow break you.

As he began thrusting at a quick pace, he used the hand that wasn’t gripping your hip to wrap around your throat. 

“Cry for me, tell me how much it hurts.”

“L-Law! It’s- mmh!” You whined, feeling light headed from the pressure on your throat.

“What? Can’t breathe?” Law taunted you, fucking into your hips even harder now.

After another moment of slowly cutting off your air supply, Law released the hold on your throat and you gasped for air, choked moans sputtering passed your lips. 

“Law,” you moved your hands to grab his hair again. “I can’t do it anymore, I’m gonna-“

“Shh. It’s alright, cum for me, baby. Cum around my cock as I fill you up and stuff you full of my cum.”

“Please, Law- fuck… I-,” you choked out through moans that were nearly screams.

Law grunted loudly, growling in your ear as he bit down on your shoulder, shoving his cock as far into your cunt as possible before holding himself there and letting his hot seed spill into you, filling you to the womb.

You screamed his name, tugging on his hair as you sobbed from the overstimulating amount of pleasure. 

After holding you as close to his body as possible, Law finally let go of you, pulling himself out of your aching cunt. 

“Shit, look at the mess you made,” Law chuckled, turning to grab a cloth from the bed table and wiping the mixed juices away from your trembling body. “We’re gonna have to request new sheets.”

As you regain your composure, you lifted your head up to smirk at your husband. “I know somebody we can ask… they’re right next door, after all.”

“How convenient,” Law returned the smirk, before moving his head to kiss your lips once more.

[gingerbloof]

Glimpse of Us (An Ascended Astarion x Spawn Fem!Tav Ongoing Series)

summary: When Tav helps Astarion complete the Rite of Profane Ascension, she realizes that he is no longer the man she had fallen in love with. However, she does her best to make her true love happy. But will the cost of her self worth and identity prove too much to pay for the price of love?

word count: 2,180

chapter 2: The Proposal

They did it… They really did it. The Elder Brain was gone, and everyone was finally rid of their tadpoles. It was the biggest wave of relief Tav had ever felt in her life.

As Tav and her companions looked out on the rising sun, she watched Astarion carefully… They didn’t know whether or not the ritual would allow him to walk in the sun after the tadpole was gone, so just in case she made sure to bring an umbrella for him.

The golden rays rose over the horizon. Shadowheart and Gale grinned successfully at each other and turned to look at you as well, but you were focused on Astarion, looking for any sign of pain on his face. But there was none… The sun shone on his face and he closed his eyes, sighing contentedly. He bathed in the sun for a few more moments before pulling Tav into his side by her waist. Even though the sunrise was beautiful, Tav had her own star to gaze upon. She leaned up to plant a soft kiss on his cheek, earning her a soft squeeze from him.

It had been a hard couple weeks growing accustomed to Astarion’s newfound power. Tav still couldn’t quite figure out what drove him to say any of the things he said after he ascended, but she was reassured fairly quickly that it was just the adrenaline. He had grown even more protective of her, making sure she didn’t push herself too hard in any battles and always checked in on her. Even so, the way he remarked about their companions had changed. It seemed like the only person he ever saw was her. But she was okay with that. It made her happy to know that Astarion always had his eye on her. It made her feel safe and secure, nothing like how her past was.

Gale and Shadowheart turned to face the couple and smiled at them, although they had been avoiding Astarion like the plague since the ascension, they were happy that he still had the sun despite everything. “Well,” Gale chimed in, splitting the silence. “It’s over… It’s all truly over.” He smiled. Shadowheart was going around briefly to everyone to heal everyone as she replied. “It’s strange… I know we should all be celebrating right now, but I can’t help but feel a bit sad.” Gale raised an eyebrow. “Why’s that?” Tav quickly responded before Shadowheart could. “Because now we have to figure out what’s next for us.”

Astarion stayed silent, still bathing in the sunlight, but Tav noticed he peeked at her with one eye with a furrowed brow. She was sure they’d talk about this later… Because they needed to figure out what was next for their relationship. Gale waved a dismissive hand and started to walk slowly back to the tavern. “That’s a conversation for later, I presume. For now, we have lots to celebrate!” He exclaimed. Shadowheart chuckled softly and started to follow. Tav and Astarion didn’t move a muscle, still wrapped in each other’s arms. “We’ll be at the tavern when you two are ready. Don’t be too long,” She said, mostly talking to Tav.

Tav looked back at her and smiled warmly. “Of course. Go on, have fun. We’ll meet you there,” With that, Shadowheart smiled and placed a gentle touch on Tav’s shoulder before leaving to meet up with Gale. Once she was gone, Astarion finally spoke. “Little love… I want to thank you.” He said. He turned Tav around so she was facing him. He stared longingly into her eyes, gently cupping her cheek. Tav stared back into his eyes, trying her best to ignore the hungry gleam they had to them. She was certain it was, yet again, the adrenaline from the final battle still wearing off. She smiled up at him and leaned into his cool touch. “For what?” She asked softly, touching the hand that was on her cheek.

“For giving me… Everything. You’ve given me your trust, your love, and my freedom,” His eyes softened, any lingering trace of hunger quickly fading. “Thank you, truly. This is a gift, I’ll never forget it.” His eyes glossed over with tears for a moment, but he quickly blinked them away as he slowly leaned into Tav, softly brushing his lips against hers. Her breath hitched and she shut her eyes expecting the inevitable.

He pressed his lips against hers softly as the sun rose higher and higher into the sky illuminating them both. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him even closer, pressing their chests together. The kiss ended as soon as it started, and Astarion pulled back enough to look into her eyes again. He scoffed softly to himself as he spoke softly. “I can’t believe you let me do that. Killing all those people… A pleasant surprise.”

The guilt of damning all 7,000 souls at the palace faded the past couple days. After everything was said and done at Cazador’s palace, she thought about how happy she was for Astarion. Freedom was something she had been looking for all her life. Her past always caught up with her, especially late at night. Her life had been nothing but darkness and captivity, just like Astarion. The two had stayed up late many nights along their journey talking about their past and ultimately bonding over it. There were many nights where either Astarion or Tav would come to each other’s tents and just sob into the other’s chest. Meeting someone who went through the same thing as you is an eye opener. It makes you realize that you are never truly alone in what you are going through, and Tav and Astarion were no stranger to that. They shone a light they never had in each other’s lives, and because of this Tav felt free with him. Like the chains she bore her whole life had been fully erased by him.

“I wanted what was best for you. Besides, it was the least I could do, after you saved me,” She said, fighting back the tears that stung her eyes. He chuckled softly. “Oh, you sweet thing… I want what’s best for you, too, of course.” Tav smiled at this. She knew it was true, he had proven it so many times before, like when Haarlep threatened to claim her body. He was so protective, and made sure she didn’t give up her body to an incubus. It was so surreal, knowing that he loved her, though they haven’t said the words out loud yet. Even so, they didn’t need to say it, they just knew they loved each other unconditionally.

“Let’s head back to the tavern, my treasure. I want to give you something.” Astarion said, taking Tav’s hand. She took it and arched an eyebrow. “It better not be stolen, Mr. Acunin,” She giggled. Astarion chuckled softly as they started to walk to the tavern. “In a sense it’s stolen. Trust me, this gift is going to take your breath away.” He purred. Tav’s cheeks went red. She knew that tone anywhere…

The tavern was bustling with celebration. Drinks and a hearty feast greeted Astarion and Tav as they entered. Minsc was already drunk, despite it being early morning still, and everyone was laughing and cheering triumphantly. Volo even played a bardic tune about the party’s journey. Tav giggled as she watched everyone celebrate. Astarion swiftly cut through the crowded bar room like it was nothing, never letting go of her hand. Typical rogue behavior…

Soon enough, they reached their shared room. It was a cozy little room they had been sharing for the past couple weeks, nothing like anything they had ever slept in before. By the Hells there was even a bed! The early morning sun peaked in through the curtains lighting up the room in a beautiful golden hue that shone off of Astarion’s silver locks as he walked in. Tav looked at him dreamily. She had never felt so lucky in her whole life.

He turned to her and caught her staring. A smirk swept over his face and he chuckled softly. “Come here, my treasure.” He said gently, coaxing her over with his finger. She happily complied and practically skipped over to him, waves of joy and relief from saving Baldur’s Gate and her friends completely dulling any sense of reason in her.

As she approached he took her hand, sweeping his thumb over her knuckles and looking into her eyes. She stared back, not even noticing something cold and hard wrapping around her fourth finger. She looked down to see a gorgeous ring. The band was pure gold and lined with tiny rubies, the same shade as Astarion’s eyes. Her eyes widened as she examined it closer, and saw that on the back there was an engraving.

“Aeterna amantes”

Tav looked up at Astarion with glossy eyes, her lip quivering a bit. As if he could read her mind, he spoke gently. “Aeterna amantes means… Lovers forever,” He smiled and traced the ring gently with his thumb. “You’re the one I want, from now until the world falls down. I want you… To be my consort. To be my bride.”

Tav didn’t know what to say. She was so taken aback by this… Astarion wanted to marry her? She was the happiest she could ever be at such a proposal, but this still begged the thought…

“But… We don’t have forever…” She said through tears. “I’m human, and you’re, well…” She trailed off, but the silence was quickly split by Astarion. “Yes, little love, I know. Which is why I’m asking if you would like to join me in immortality. One more bite is all it would take…” He said, his other hand gently tracing along her neck, immediately creating goosebumps on her skin.

She pondered on this for a moment, recalling what he had said to her about becoming a vampire. He said it was very painful and, normally, a true vampire would not so easily turn their spawn into true vampires. Her eyebrows furrowed as this thought drifted across her mind.

“You wouldn’t just be some spawn, my love,” He said, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. “You’re far more to me than that… My dark consort, my bride… My most beloved spawn.” His words were thick with reassurance, but there was something hidden in his tone. Tav just didn’t know it yet.

“Spawn?... But I want to be a true vampire, like you.” She said, worry started to cover her face. Astarion chuckled softly. “My sweet, there are no vampires like me. There never will be again. Besides, we mustn’t rush these things, I want to make sure that you are well prepared before I offer you my blood and turn you into a true vampire. But, this is what you want, isn’t it? To be mine? Forever?” To some people, his smirk could have been read as misleading and malicious, but Tav only saw a warm smile on his face. Her sense of reason was completely diminished at the thought of being married to her true love and living life eternal with him, so there was only one right answer to his proposal.

“Yes… Yes! I want this!” She said happily, a grin appearing on her face. She hugged him tightly, joyous tears rolling down her face. He chucked happily and returned the hug, sighing softly in relief. “I love you. More than you could ever know, my treasure.” He said softly into her ear.

He pulled away and grabbed her hands, gripping them firmly and looking into her eyes. “Let’s run away together… Tonight! We can reclaim Cazador’s palace and make it our own,” He said, haste and excitement in his voice. “We don’t need any of these people, we have a whole world to make our own! Imagine the power we could have over the city. Over the entire world! Just you and me… Forever,” His words were maddening, but to Tav they were as sweet as a ballad. All she ever wanted in her life was to have something of her own, to lead a life of triumph and freedom, and that’s all she could see in this. She nodded happily, forgetting all about her friends downstairs and everything else that mattered.

“Well, what’re we waiting for?” She said, grinning. “Let’s go right now!” She turned away from him to start gathering their things. Astarion was slightly taken aback by this. He had a feeling that she wouldn’t be so keen to up and abandon everything she knew and loved for him, but to his surprise she did. Maybe that vampiric charm was working afterall…

He smirked and helped her quickly. Before they knew it, they were on their way back to the palace to start a new life together. This was everything Tav could have ever dreamt of; To spend a life eternal with the one she loved, and never having to fear anything ever again.

au: i am so sorry for the long wait… i have been severely burntout due to working a lot of overtime and work and just with life in general that it took me forever to get this written :( but i appreciate y’all being patient! i hope you enjoy this chapter ❤️

[aihaitahm]

curiosity killed the cat general

jing yuan and mean! cat!hybrid reader

where jing yuan has always been eyeing on you yet you seem uninterested and distant towards him however he stumbled across your photobook filled with his pictures when it fell out your pocket.

gn! reader, pining of some kind. reader is implied to wear lipstick. in celebration for jing yuan’s release ^_^

you are fu xuan’s assistant and you sometimes send out reports to general jing yuan when she is extremely busy. upon giving out reports to him, you couldnt help but feel his gaze. you feel yourself go red because how can somebody like him even stare at you. you cant deny he is extremely handsome and charming, just simply eye candy to look at. you couldnt help that your tail would slightly wag when you talk to him. he is so gentle with you and kind but you didnt want your slight admiration (little did you know you have a big ass crush on him you just deny it )for him to be obvious so you decide to be mean and avoid him like the plague. however it was hard to resist that when he constantly gives you food or any random thing every after report.

your crush for him certainly didn’t go unnoticed by a certain foxian lady and of course fu xuan. tingyun would notice how you look at the general and gently grabbed you aside to tell you she has pictures of him to give you for free. you were opposed to it at first but you took the pictures anyway. she giggled and said “hm. be thankful im not charging you like the others~ keep this a secret okay? afterall, the general does have keen eye on you. only you.”

one afternoon, you were confronted by your overworked madame about your little crush since she found out about your secret. well she knew about it all along, she just didnt confront you.

“your taste in men is absolutely terrible. you’re my best assistant yet… you choose to have a crush on the worst general EVER?” fu xuan sighed disappointingly.

“where is this coming from i-i dont like him that way and could you keep it down. i dont like him!” you denied, cat ears going back, tail going straight up. feeling a bit hissy.

“then why do you keep this then hm? how come i see lady tingyun provide you these pictures? did i mention the lipstick marks all over it. could my dear assistant, who so terribly denies their crush for the general, explain?” fu xuan sarcastically questioned. she showed the photobook and flips through it with her not so evil grin.

“stop! im not gonna do anything for you for a week.” you hissed. blood rushed to your face from the embarrassment and from blushing.

“okay then you fiesty kitten. i’ll give this to your little jing yuan and tell him its from you.” she blackmailed. woah… who knew the cat had its claws.

“i-i apologize lady fu xuan. but please i beg of you not to, please! i’ll do more than i have to. i’ll cook you all your meals. i promise. just dont give it to general jing yuan.” you pleaded. you were internally screaming, he cannot know.

fu xuan sighed and then chuckled. she has never seen her assistant so out of character. she gave the photobook to you as you sighed in relief. she then gave you a pieces of unwanted advice about how to confess yadayada. she also scolded you for overthinking. even though she does not like jing yuan, she wants to support her lovely assistant. you have helped her in a lot of things and it was just right for her to support you.

“thank you lady fu xuan.“ you smiled at her, parting ways as it was already late at night. what you didnt know was that your photobook fell. you were so tired from today’s work, running around to clear errands, all you care about was sleep.

early morning came and the general wanted to clear his mind by getting fresh air to get the morning started. strangely he saw something on the ground and he was curious about what it was. it was a photobook… with cute cat stickers on it. the only cat person he frequently saw was you. he noticed your items were cat themed which he found adorable.

he was even more intrigued when he saw pictures of himself with lipstick marks. his lips formed a smirk when he saw the ‘(name) x jing yuan <888’ engraved in one of the pictures. he always had his eye on you and would frequently ask fu xuan and tingyun about you. he thought you were attractive and loyal and most importantly a cat. he is the biggest cat person he knows. he spoils mimi so much why cant he spoil you? he does get hurt whenever youre so cold and distant. he would do anything to make you warm up to him. he did notice recently you were slowly opening up to him though you still shut him out.

thankfully he found your photobook and is now relieved that the feelings are mutual. with a devilish grin, he sent out a messenger to fu xuan and asked for only your assistance today. his heart is fluttering because all he could think of was you. all day everyday. he wonders what happens if he teases you? if he kissed your hands? if he touched your ears? so many questions spiraled.

afternoon finally came.

“good afternoon general jing yuan. you asked for me?” you politely said. aeons. you were anxious but you didnt know why. you couldnt stop staring at his figure so you looked down. he finally turned around with something familiar in his hands, you notice his majestic fingers flipping through the pages. wait is that your photobook… your photobook!

“hmmmm my dearest kitten, seems like you dropped your precious belonging. can you give me a full explanation for this photo album? i assume its yours since it said in one of the pages ‘(name) x jing yuan’ what? are just you going to deny it even though i have proof?“ he stood up walking towards you. going nearer and nearer.

you look down and closed your eyes. he then slowly grabbed your chin. you could feel the tantalizing electricity in his hand. you feel his presence tower you. you felt like a mouse.

“eyes up here.~” he cooed. oh how devilish.

you were speechless and exploding. you were flustered. tail twitching, ears cowering.

“hm what happened~ cat got your tongue?”

<8