#bath safety solutions

[lilamala]

my gay son

[spookyboywhump]

ok i looked it up they are bathtub stickers

Don’t look at me I’m just *fumbling for my wallet*

[fivestarbathsolutionssuncity]

Five Star Bath Solutions of Sun City

Five Star Bathroom Remodeling Without The Five Star Price

⋆ Five Star Expert Craftsmanship

⋆ Five Star Quality Modern Materials

⋆ Five Star Easy Clean Materials

⋆ Five Star Lifetime Warranty

⋆ Five Star Satisfaction Guarantee

⋆ Thousands Less Than Traditional Remodeling

Get Five Star Services, Without the Cost

Have you ever signed a contract with someone, only to find out that the job wasn’t done to your satisfaction: shoddy workmanship, unfinished job, couldn’t contact them, cost you more than expected, etc.? 

At Five Star Bath Solutions, we’ve made it our mission to make sure this doesn’t happen to you. Our number one priority is customer service and satisfaction:

We use only the highest quality products

We train and certify all of our technicians

We work exclusively on bathroom remodels

All of this is done to make sure you are happy with the end results.

Specialty Work

At Five Star Bath Solutions, we focus solely on the bathroom so you can get the best experience possible.  Specializing our work means that we have more time to focus on each project and much more experience in doing that type of remodeling. We are experts in

Shower and Tub Conversions

Bath Remodel

Bath & Shower Combo

New Shower

Safety & Accessibility

Walk-In Bath

Designs, Colors, and Plans

Because we partner with so many manufacturing companies, we have a lot of designs, colors, and plans to choose from. 

When our technicians come out for the initial estimation, they will bring all color options, designs, and styles we offer.

We understand that not everybody knows what they want, they just need change. 

Never fear. Our 3-D technology will show you exactly what your bathroom could look like according to the designs and colors you’ve chosen.

Ultimately, you will be the one who designs this bathroom. 

Often, with other companies, people don’t know what’s being put into their bathroom until it is done. At Five Star Bath Solutions, you will be picking out the products yourself with guidance from experienced professionals. The process will be outlined and detailed from the very beginning.

Your satisfaction is our end goal. Laying out all the options and keeping you informed is one of our ways of showing that.

High Quality Products

Our products are designed to look exactly like the stone or material you wish to imitate. 

Our solutions offer the same strength and durability but come with advanced protection against mold and mildew. They are all waterproof from floor to ceiling. 

You get the luxuries of having fine stone, without any deep cleaning or other burdens that come with it.

1-2 Day Installation

Time is money. This is why we focus on just bathrooms. We can devote the manpower necessary to get your job finished. Between the highly skilled technicians and the cutting-edge technology we use, most projects are wrapped-up within a day.

Hidden Problems

As part of our installation process, we inspect what’s already in your bathroom. After demolition, there’s an investigatory aspect to make sure nothing harmful was hidden behind your walls or in your plumbing such as:

Mold

Mildew

Water Damage

Bad Pipes

We like our products to last, and fixing hidden problems goes a long way in doing that. 

Many other companies will cover it up and hope it doesn’t resurface. 

We’re not like that. 

You want the best bathroom for your money and we’re here to give it to you.

Another benefit to working on just bathrooms is availability. 

Our schedule is never too far out to turn away customers. Because we focus solely on bathrooms, it increases our availability.

 Not only can we finish most jobs in a day, but we can start months before anyone else.

Expert Craftsmanship

How you install a bathroom is just as important as what products used to do so. That’s why we take the time to certify and license each of our installation technicians. 

They go through extensive training, from the manufacturing companies themselves, to learn how to install these specialty products. If they can’t get certified, we don’t send them out.

Rest assured, those we take on have 100’s of hours of combined experience in bathroom remodeling. You’re in good hands. 

100% Satisfaction Guarantee

We believe that after investing in a remodeled bathroom, you deserve to be 100% satisfied with the work done. 

That’s why we implemented a practice in our business called “post inspection.” 

We come in, after the job is done, to inspect everything that was remodeled. If something isn’t perfect, we will redo it. If you have complaints, we can fix it. 

We won’t leave the project until you tell us you’re 100% satisfied with the work.

What We Do

Most homeowners are skeptical about choosing a bathroom remodeling company and want to be absolutely sure that they’re making the right decision. This is because of two reasons; there’s a lot of money involved, and the bathroom remodeling project disrupts the normal routine significantly, which is why homeowners just don’t want to take any risks.

However, with Five Star Bath Solutions of Sun City at your service, you can rest assured that everything will be done to perfection and within the committed timeline.

The transition from an old bathroom to a modern one will be swift, and the final results will be what you had in mind – or maybe, even better!

Here are other reasons why you should choose us for your bathroom remodel.

Increased Value

A remodeled bathroom is sure to boost the value of your property when you plan to sell it. When someone buys a house, the first thing they usually do is get the bathrooms renovated. But if they’re getting a house with modern bathrooms, they’ll rush in to close the deal, even if they have to pay a higher price for it. A modern bathroom combined with top-quality, professional installations by our expert team of installers is sure to serve as the cherry on top.

Waterproof

All our products, from the tubs to shower wall systems, are fully waterproof. They’ve got an extra seal coating on their surface that protects them from water damage. The seal coat prevents the water from making its way through, hence, you won’t face the usual problems of grime and mold with our bathroom installations. Being waterproof, the bathroom installations from Five Star Bath Solutions retain their attractive appearance for many years to come.

Surfaces Resistant to Mold, Mildew, and Bacteria

One of the most common complaints that homeowners have regarding their bathrooms is the stubborn grime and mold that just won’t go away, no matter how hard they try. Bathrooms are moist and humid most of the time, making them an ideal place for the growth of mold and bacteria. BUT that’s not the case with the bathrooms that Five Star Bath Solutions makes.

Since all our products are waterproof, their surfaces are protected from water and hence, are protected from the growth of mold and bacteria. Our products have a waterproof seal coat that makes them easier to clean and makes sure the water doesn’t seep through. With Five Star Bath Solutions, your bathrooms aren’t just easy to clean but are an absolutely safe place to be.

A Variety of Options to Choose From

At Five Star Bath Solutions of Sun City, we give you an open canvas to be as creative as you want to be. We don’t believe in restricting our valued customers to just a few options. We understand how important a bathroom is for everyone, and we try to make sure that our customers get just what they’ve got in mind. We make dream bathrooms a reality.

We offer a plethora of choices in designs, colors, patterns, shower wall systems, tubs, and fixtures. You get to choose everything, from the materials you want us to use to the color palette to the type of tubs and shower surrounds.

However, if you find yourself confused with so many options, we’re here to help you decide what’s best for you and your bathroom. You can trust us with your bathroom dreams.

Innovation and Creativity at its Best

We don’t just say we build modern bathrooms, but we stick to our word. Five Star Bath Solutions of Sun City has an extensive collection of highly innovative and creative products. Our shower wall surrounds are unlike any other. They’re classy, stylish, modern, and highly functional. Creativity and innovation go hand-in-hand with Five Star Bath Solutions.

Trusted and Trained Technicians

One of the biggest nightmares for homeowners when they’re getting their bathrooms remodeled is the incorrect installation that they’ll have to get fixed for double the amount. Well, Five Star Bath Solutions can assure you that we deliver the best. Our technicians are highly trained, and they know their job quite well.

Even if there’s an unanticipated challenge during the bathroom remodeling, our technicians can handle it all well without panicking.

Having said that, our technicians not just do their job verywell, they also do it well in time – something that most bathroom remodelers fail to deliver.

Ultimate Bathroom Safety

It’s not uncommon for people to face trip and slip accidents in the bathroom. It’s a major concern for homeowners, especially if they’ve got elderly and children living with them. Five Star Bath Solutions doesn’t just make beautiful and highly innovative bathrooms, but we make sure they’re safe too.

We install anti-slip floors and keep in consideration all the aspects of safety while working on your bathroom remodel project to make sure the new bathroom is not just functional but safe and secure as well.

Low Maintenance

Keeping the bathroom looking neat and clean at all times is a major challenge. The grime on the bathtubs and the grout between the tiles look disgusting and ugly. People spend hours scrubbing the floors, walls, and bathtubs to restore their actual appearance – all of this to no avail.

Five Star Bath Solutions of Sun City builds low-maintenance bathrooms. All the products that we use in your bathroom are waterproof, so the development of grime is out of the question. Our products are also resistant to dirt, so you don’t have to spend hours cleaning them. There’s also no need for you to use strong chemicals to make your bathroom look sparkling clean.

With Five Star Bath Solutions of Vancouver, you can enjoy low-maintenance, gorgeous bathrooms!

Highly Trained and Certified Installers

Five Star Bath Solutions of Sun City only hires certified installers with years of experience and unparalleled skills in the field. They also undergo rigorous training to learn the latest installation techniques to ensure that each product goes correctly into your bathroom. We aim to give you a bathroom you've always wanted, so the last thing we would want is for you to experience any problems in the future.

Our expert installers excel at exceeding expectations. They not only install everything properly and give your bathroom the best finishing, but they also make sure to complete the remodel as quickly as possible without compromising the quality of our products or service.

Five Star Bath Solutions of Sun City only hires certified installers with years of experience and unparalleled skills in the field. They also undergo rigorous training to learn the latest installation techniques to ensure that each product goes correctly into your bathroom. We aim to give you a bathroom you've always wanted, so the last thing we would want is for you to experience any problems in the future.

Get in Touch with Us for a Free Consultation

Five Star Bath Solutions is the best bathroom remodeling company in Vancouver, and we continue to hold the top position by providing our clients with quality service at affordable rates. Our priority is to create happy and satisfied clients who fall in love with their new bathrooms as soon as they see them.

To set up a free in-home consultation, please call us today by dialing (623) 300-2183 .

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[youcancallmeelle]

Are we on the same side?

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI!!!)

Word count: 8K

Pairing: Separated husband!Joel Miller x wife!reader

Summary: Joel and you are trialling temporary separation due to repeated arguments with one another after nearly twenty years of marriage.

He returns to the marital home to do you a favour, flirting ensues and the sexual tension gets out of hand because of course it does.

You may need some clarification on what you are…

AO3

You put up the hearts, and I'll put up both my aces Not very far apart Still on different pages

Before having kids, you used to take every moment of your life for granted. 

You were just a kid yourself back then, when you had two babies with a boy who shared your class and you were so in love you couldn’t fathom a life without him. For years you were Mama, the person who fed them and changed them, bathed them and rocked them to sleep. You worked night shifts while the love of your life worked in the day, all so food could be put on the table and an apartment could be kept to keep you all warm and safe. It wasn’t until a few years ago when your kids gained their own independence that you slowly started to regain your own life back, now you were nearly forty and working a job that gave you more freedom even if the stress levels have gotten to you more than once and your marriage… well that’s a separate issue on its own. 

You’d spent the morning doing things you wanted to, thanking whoever that your kids were teenagers who could do their own breakfast and helped with chores without coaxing. You’ve been to pilates and the salon and had your infills done, your nails a glossy shade of pillar box red in an almond shape and your toes the same colour. You’d even managed to grab a Starbucks and sipped it languidly as you people watched from the safety of your car, enjoying your chosen playlist on Spotify without the bluetooth getting hijacked. The icing on the cake though? The fact you got to shower at home without someone barging in to ask for foundation or to borrow your strapless bra or your new Adidas Superstars. 

It’s mid way through Saturday afternoon that your relaxation comes skidding to a halt in the form of your jaded lover knocking heavily against the pane of glass on your front door, the irritating noise makes you scowl and you drag your feet to answer it. 

You crack it open, familiar brown eyes stare at you and yours narrow back. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask flatly, the male on the other side picks up on your terse mood and his shoulders rise defensively. If it wasn’t for the little disagreement you’d had a few days prior on the phone over something as mundane as renewing car insurance, you’d have probably been more excited to see him but the way he can sometimes undermine you really grates on your nerves, you hate that he gets so swept up in work that he comes home and talks to you like he’s your foreman. 

The minute he’d started questioning your choice like a fucking know it all, you’d merely hung up in irritation, refusing to answer when he’d called you back twice to apparently try and patch it over. You’d read the I’m sorry and I love you more than you’ll ever know text he sent after over and over, trying to figure out how things had come to this. 

Nearly two decades together, married, with children and a house. You and Joel Miller have been torn apart by too many petty arguments that end with you sobbing and him walking away, you’d had to call it and come up with a possible solution with the marriage counsellor before it was too late. 

He huffs and lifts his hand, showing you the toolbox you’ve seen many times with its contents strewn about somewhere in your house. 

“A little birdie told me that you’re in need of a repair.” Joel’s lip twists at the side when your mood seems to perk just a fraction, there’s multiple things that need a little TLC right now but he can certainly worm his way back into your good books with a good old fashioned repair. You can only assume the little birdie was Sarah or Ellie. 

You open the door fully and step backwards so all six foot something of him can meander through your front door, he wipes his feet on the welcome mat and toes his sneakers off, nudging them into the neat space where a tattered pair of Vans have been kicked off hard enough to scuff the wall and a pair of spotless ankle boots have been nicely placed beside your shoes. 

“Where’s the babies?” He frowns, looking around and noticing the lack of noise. 

You smile as you shut the door behind him as he refers to the girls as his babies, despite Sarah being eighteen and Ellie just turned fourteen. 

With them both being girls, he’s soft anyway but Sarah is his first born who made him a father and Ellie’s still his tiny baby who he’s soaked up every second of when she was a newborn because you both knew you weren’t having any more children.

“At the movies together watching Twisters, Garret backed out on Sarah so Ellie went instead.” You inform him, sneaking an appreciative glance from the corner of your eye. 

Joel makes a noise at the mention of Sarah’s boyfriend, never having liked him for whatever reason, you think it’s because they’re eerily alike so therefore clash. 

“Little prick will be back hangin’ around here next week.” He grumbles, placing his toolbox on the bottom step.  

“She’s just going through the universal thing of falling for a country boy.” You tease. 

“Well as long as he don’t get her pregnant before graduation then we won’t have a problem.”

“She’s smarter than us.” You say. 

“I know.” Joel agrees, you sneak one more glance at the country boy who got you pregnant before graduation. 

He’s wearing slim fitting black sweatpants with a worn grey t-shirt with a faded motif on, the chain of his St Christopher barely noticeable beneath it and his thick rimmed glasses are perched on his nose. 

You miss the hungry look he shoots you when you turn away, chestnut coloured eyes drifting low to the denim shorts you wear that he’s sure you’ve had since you were in your twenties. They fit snug and are contoured perfectly to the shape of your ass, your cheeks barely peeking out. What really makes his dick hard is the fact you’re wearing one of his sweatshirts, an old Dallas Cowboys one that you’ve always been particularly fond of. 

“Nice flowers. Who got ya those?” He nods with a smirk towards the vase on the side table that’s filled with blooming peonies and baby’s breath. 

The beautiful arrangement of flowers had arrived the morning after your petty argument with Joel, a gift from the universe if you will when you needed something bright and blooming to drag you out of the despair you were frantically becoming encased in. 

“Oh.” You hum and feign ignorance, reaching out to gently touch the edge of a baby pink peony. “Just a friend.” You smile vaguely, Joel rolls his eyes. “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

“A guy sent them?” He presses, shifting his weight, your grin turns devious. 

“Mmm.” You coo, feeling thrilled when that lick of annoyance flickers across your husband’s face at your flippant tone. 

“Who?” He grins back.

“I’m not telling you.” 

“Come on, I just wanna talk to him, I wanna know why he thinks it’s okay to send my wife flowers.” 

“Ex wife.” You snort, Joel glares at you. 

“We’re separated, not divorced. Y’know what, we’re barely even separated.” He disagrees, you bite the inside of your cheek in amusement. 

“Apparently you’re here to fix my shelves and you’re doing a whole lot of yapping, very unprofessional of you.” You goad, stepping backwards when he begins to saunter towards you with a certain look in his eyes. 

“I’ll fix your shelves, I’ll fix anythin’ you want.” Joel mumbles, stalking you. 

“Big promises.” You taunt, lifting your chin defiantly. His hands grasp your waist, pulling you to him and you let him, leaning up to wrap your arms around his neck. 

You love this, the playful behaviour and flirting since you decided to live apart for a while. It feels new and exciting, a rush that you felt when you first got together as youngsters just before your world flipped and you were pregnant before your frontal lobe had developed. 

He smells delectable, you can’t stop yourself from nosing at his bearded jaw where his cologne is the strongest. Joel’s throat bobs, his fingers drift upwards under your borrowed sweatshirt to feel the bare skin between your shorts and bra. 

As his structured jaw slides across yours and his nose just barely brushes your own, you feel his breath hit your lips and you know he really wants to kiss you but is waiting for you to make the first move. 

You want to, you really do but you’re scared of falling into a false sense of security when you haven’t even scratched the surface of your underlying problems that the marriage counsellor suggested needed to be covered before you could get back on track. 

Joel enjoys the way your head fits against his collarbone, loves the sweet smell of your hair and skin. 

“Fix my shelf.” You huff into his skin as you retreat, he sighs deeply but picks up his toolbox and begins to follow you up the stairs with his eyes glued to your backside. 

It almost feels strange for Joel to be back in your shared bedroom after three weeks away, he hasn’t been back for any extra clothes or personal items. If he’s come over to see the kids, then he’s stayed downstairs or in the garden with them. 

Everything looks the same which is a strange observation given that really you’ve barely been apart for any time at all but it’s comforting to be back. 

The bed is made in its usual dress up of plain white sheets with useless throw pillows stacked neatly, there’s a pile of clean laundry resting on your vanity chair but also clothes tossed on the floor where you’ve been indecisive. 

Joel whistles when he sees the closet door open and the fallen shelf leaning against the door, there’s a scrape on the inside wall where it’s collided and taken the paint off. It looks like a fairly simple job, the wall plugs have probably come loose over time and needed replacing, it’s not as if IKEA is known for making indestructible furniture. 

“You want the step ladder?” You question as he surveys the situation, rubbing the wall with his fingertips to see if the scrape will alleviate some. 

“I think so.” He replies. “They in the garage?” 

“No, Ellie’s room, she was trying to hang some fairy lights earlier but only got halfway before she threw a fit about the command hooks.” You chuckle, wandering off to go retrieve them for him, already certain he’s made a note to finish the job for her before he leaves. 

When you get back, he’s got some tools ready, his drill in hand already. He steps onto the bottom rung of the step ladder, groaning as he stretches. 

You observe for a moment, knowing it irks him, he hates being watched on a job.

“Jesus, it’s fuckin’ dusty up here. You’re a terrible housewife, neglectin’ your duties.” Joel pokes, knowing you won’t take a blind bit of notice. 

“You wanna know why we really separated? Because you neglected your duties as a husband to satisfy your wife.” You reply easily, Joel chuckles and looks down at you. 

“Oh spare me the dramatics, you’ve never been unsatisfied by me in your whole entire life.” He sings, infuriatingly he isn’t wrong. 

“I’m telling the kids you were being sexist to me.” You threaten, chewing on a sinister smile. “Ellie will beat you up.” 

“She won’t.” Joel grins, you mumble out a complaint. “She’s a daddy’s girl, maybe try your luck with Sarah, I’m sure she’d give me a lecture.” Not that you think he needs one, he’s the biggest supporter of you and his girls. 

“They’re both Daddy’s girls, the little traitors. Nine whole months carrying them and giving birth after what felt like days and days with no fucking pain relief and this is the thanks I get? Not to mention my nipples being sucked raw.” You grumble to yourself, kicking some laundry into a pile at the side of the wall, Joel makes you jump when he groans suddenly.

“Just sayin’ but your tits were amazin’ when you were breastfeedin’ - shit, they’re still fucking phenomenal.” He sighs dreamily, closing his eyes. “Fuck, you were so hot carryin’ my babies, I’d have kept you pregnant if I had my way.” 

You bite your cheeks to hide the satisfaction that your husband still wants you. 

“You can’t say stuff like that to me anymore.” 

“Why? We separated or somethin’?” Your husband frowns comically. “Show me your tits.” 

“No.” 

“Come on, just one.” He grins boyishly. “The right one is my favourite.” You stick your middle finger up at him.

“Asshole.” You sniff, walking back to lay on the end of your bed. 

You pick up your phone, mindlessly scrolling through Facebook posts made by the PTA at the girls school while Joel complains about wall fixings or something equally as dull. 

In the end, you get bored and toss it away, instead opting to enjoy the eye candy in the form of a senior (essentially) gentleman on a stepladder cussing about how IKEA can suck his balls. 

“Piece of fuckin’ shit!” He complains when the shelf slips again in your closet, he takes a calming breath and contains his frustration, you snicker at him. “How did this even break, sweetheart?” Joel huffs, changing out for a larger wall plug. 

“Dunno, it just did.” You answer vaguely, looking at your ceiling.

“Bullshit.” He quips. “Did you put too much shit on it?” 

“No.” You hum, shaking your head. 

“You’re a liar.” He states plainly, equally unamused. “What did you put on here that was so heavy it collapsed?” 

“Nothing, maybe it was just your shoddy workmanship to begin with.” You quip, not looking at him though you desperately want to because you can imagine the outrage on his face but you won’t be able to not laugh. 

“It wasn’t me that put it up.” He glares. 

“Sure, whatever you say.” You smile sweetly at him. It’s quiet for a minute, then Joel speaks again. 

“You put filled shoeboxes up here, didn’t you? After I told you nothin’ heavier than a few sweaters? ” He asks knowingly. 

Silence and then… 

“Yeah.” You nod, he sighs loudly and turns back to drill in a screw now that he seems happy with the stability. 

You watch him as he works, angling himself to see better and be able to use his drill at the correct angle. 

The muscles in his back move and his shoulders look unbelievably broad beneath his t-shirt, it hugs his biceps and rides up when he shifts to show a slither of his boxers and bare back. 

Your mouth almost waters and you press your thighs together but it obscures your view so you part them again to peek at him through the gap in your knees. 

It’s well known that your husband is an attractive man, he always has been. You’ve watched him grow from the gangly teenager with a backwards baseball cap practically glued to his head you were first besotted with to the almost middle aged and greying man that now works before you. 

Most nights when it’s dark, quiet and the house is still, you pleasure yourself beneath the duvet thinking of him, hips moving frantically against the whir of your vibrator. It can be any scenario of the long time you’ve been together, two decades holds enough memories to fill books upon books with pictures and anecdotes, some that you keep stored away just for you. 

Sometimes you dream about the three day honeymoon in Nashville you had when your parents forced you to get married before Sarah was born, back when you first lived in Arlington in a shitty apartment you could barely afford with you both working instead of attending college. Then there was that night just under four years later with sex so explosive that you’d had the fleeting thought you’d immediately gotten pregnant again, only to actually find out you’d been right two weeks later when you’d presented Joel with yet another positive pregnancy test before twenty five. 

You chew your lip, lashes fluttering and you’re sure he notices you ogling him in the mirror that puts your reflection in his eye line by the smirk you see. 

God, he pisses you off so much sometimes. He makes your cunt wet and your teeth grind all at once, you never knew that was possible. 

Rolling off the bed and onto your feet, you casually turn so that your back is to him on the ladder but you’re in the perfect position in the reflection of the mirror in front of him. He doesn’t notice at first over the sound of the drilling but when it stops and he goes to test the stability of the shelf, he freezes and the arm holding his drill drops limply to his side. 

He sees you begin to strip down in the mirror, shimmying your shorts down and then yanking off your oversized sweater. Joel freezes, gulping when you turn away to unclip your bra, the expanse of your back is smooth and if he thought your backside looked good in those shorts, the high cut panties you’re wearing hit on a whole other level. 

“What are you doin’?” He asks when your fingers hook into the sides of your panties, they flex within the material and you peer over your shoulder at him, big doe eyes the opposite of fucking innocence. 

“Just taking a shower, I’m filthy.” You titter, holding his piercing gaze through the mirror. 

“Funny, you’ve done nothin’ but sit on your pretty little ass and watch me inhale dust that’s been here for the last fifteen years.” 

“Well, you could always join me.” You shrug, finally slipping your underwear down your thighs, Joel’s mouth goes dry. “Only if you want to, of course.” You beam at him and then sashay away into the en suite, Joel’s resolve breaks very quickly (immediately actually) and he’s yanking off his glasses and tossing them onto the dresser and plucking his t-shirt over his head in an instant. 

Maybe the solution is to fuck it out and he’ll gladly go as many times as needed, you always did need to be fucked hard when your attitude started to test him. 

The shower has been switched on and you’re naked under the stream as he finishes yanking both his socks, sweatpants and boxers off. He admires you through the glass, kicking his clothes into a messy pile before climbing in there with you, the air tight and hot. 

His big hands enrobe you from behind, long dexterous fingers gripping at your waist and pawing at all the exposed skin it’s been weeks since he’s seen. 

You tilt your head back from the water, resting it against his shoulder and pushing back into him, holding onto his forearms and digging your nails into his flesh. 

“Look who couldn’t resist, you bad boy. Whatever will the therapist say?” You mock, pouting those pretty lips. 

“You’re a goddamn tease, you know that?” He growls, nipping at your jaw and earlobe, holding the weight of your breasts in his hands. 

“If you say so.” You breathe sexily, dragging him by the back of his neck to meet your lips in a hungry kiss. 

His cock is trapped between his soft stomach and your lower back, smearing a pearlescent gleam as he anchors himself to you.

You moan into his mouth when he teases your nipples into tight peaks, plucking them and roughly cupping your tits. 

“I want to lick your pretty little pussy until you cum on my face.” He admits into your mouth, barely letting you breathe past the fierce kisses. Your clit throbs at his confession and you grab hold of his hand, guiding it down your body to between your legs where he teases your lips.

Your back arches prettily into him, the free hand holding your breast now grips your throat, forcing you to tilt your head back. 

“Ah.” You whine when the roughened pads of his fingers stroke your clit. “Mmm, there.” You hum, pushing into his fingers. He entertains you, dipping his fingertips to your honey slick hole and back up again, dragging the gooey wetness to smother on your clit until it’s hardened and desperate to be sucked on like candy. 

“Bet you could cum like this.” He says gruffly, beard scratching at your shoulders and neck, wherever he greedily kisses your dewy wet skin. 

“Wanna cum on you, Joel.” You whine, reaching behind you to grasp his thickness. He ruts into your hand, smearing more stickiness that you want to lick away from his tip. 

You absorb him similarly to a plant and the sun, the bulk of his form plastered against your back so big and strong, skin sun kissed and warm. He’s safety to you, every single thing about him, everything familiar that you know. 

“Needy little slut.” He whispers, your core becomes aflame at the debauchery, you nod in confirmation. “Oh, you agree? You just need a cock to sit on and your shitty attitude will be right as rain?” 

“Only your cock.” You whine, flicking your thumb against the underside of him, tracing out a vein you’re very familiar with. 

“Yeah, baby. Only mine, I know, I know.” His sweet breath is hot against your cheek as he pants, fingers strumming your clit faster. “You wanna cum for me, baby? Show me how good you can be?” You hum and nod, knees almost buckling, this is the fastest you’ve approached orgasm since being separated. 

“Gonna cum, Joel.” You say huskily, hips bucking into his hand until it’s only been two seconds since your revelation and you’re cumming - wet and sticky - into the palm of his hand. His mouth is on yours, you’re moaning and moving erratically, Joel’s cock is dribbling a steady stream of pre cum into your hand where you’re gripping his shaft. 

“Sexy little thing.” Joel husks into your ear, biting the lob as you heave for air, slowly undulating your hips as you ride the last wave of your peak against his hand. “Good girl.” He praises, taking his hand away when you weakly push at his wrist. He lifts it in front of you, fingers webbed with your cum, runny and clear. You catch his hand, slipping his index and middle finger into your mouth, sucking them clean as he groans and ruts into the hand still around him, the cool palladium of his wedding ring bumps against your cupids bow as you suckle. 

You slip his fingers out of your mouth, letting them drag down your chin and back to your tits. “Fuck me.” You demand haughtily, eyeing him. 

“I’ll fuck you, baby.” He confirms, softer than you were expecting, he meets you for a kiss and you suck on the plumpness of his bottom lip before turning away. Joel slicks his hair back under the spray and then begins to trace out the curve of your waist and the fullness of your ass, you feel his hand bump you knuckle first where he fists himself to complete mast and then he runs the length of himself through your pussy, hissing at the wet heat that awaits him but he pauses, retracting back unsure. 

“You want me to wear a condom?” And you freeze, looking over your shoulder in distress. 

“Have you been with other people?” You frown, your heart suddenly sinking into your stomach, making your guts twist with nausea. Joel frowns down at you, blinking away the water clinging to his lashes. 

“Course not.” He answers, you relax. “…Have you?” Joel presses.

“Absolutely not.” You state firmly. “So get inside me.” You demand, turning away to place your hands on the tiles. You feel him press kisses to your shoulders as the tip of his cock brushes your ass again, you sigh and push back into him. “Please, baby.” You beg, feeling him smile into your skin. 

“I think you’re tryin’ to baby trap me.” Joel says playfully, pulling your hips against him so that your back arches just so. 

“You had a vasectomy after Ellie, idiot.” Your hips press insistently against him and you reach back to tug at his length, your fingers barely wrapping around the girth. “Now get your dick inside me, Joel.” You demand. 

“Yes, ma’am.” He leans down a fraction and slicks himself up, the entire length of him slipping against your pussy lips once more and nudging your clit. “Fuuuuck.” Joel groans when he does it again and the head of him catches on your hole, slipping inside just a fraction. 

“Oh my god.” You pant, your forehead dropping to rest against the cool tiled as he fills you completely. It’s a tight fit, after over three weeks of no sex with him your body is near to combustion.

You wonder if the lack of sex has attributed to the arguments, both working long hours at your respective jobs and not having the time for the normal intimacy you usually share. 

This is exactly what you’ve been wanting in the weeks you’ve been apart; a carnal desire to have your husband close. 

His grunt in your ear sets something off in you, the relief he feels directly felt by you. 

You whimper at the first thrust after he’s settled within your velvet lined canal, body pressed between him and the wall. 

It won’t ever be like this with anyone else, you think to yourself - the way Joel fits within you, around you and alongside you. 

“Like that.” You pant, pressing back. He grunts into your ear in such a manly way that you reach back to yank on his hair, he growls into your neck and fucks into you harder. 

He’s so strong it makes your head spin, this gorgeous man with a heart of gold that loved you when you were young, married you and gave you two babies, helped you create a comfortable life for your family. 

It’s overwhelming; that sensation of being full and enveloped within the heat of his radius. 

You’ve missed everything about him; his smell, his voice, the way he tastes. You’ve ached for the things you’ve harmlessly bickered about before, such as underwear outside of the hamper, smudges of toothpaste on the bathroom mirror after a deep clean, crumbs on the island. 

You don’t mean to let your emotions get the best of you but your eyes well and your throat tightens, your chest constricts something fierce. 

The sob that erupts out of your chest can’t be disguised by the noise of the water hitting the floor at your feet or the soft groans of Joel, not the breathless whines from yourself either. 

It’s a raw noise, jagged at the edges so much that it hurts leaving your throat. 

“Honey?” Immediately Joel has stopped moving and withdrawn, spinning you around to cup your cheeks. “Why are you cryin’?” He presses insistently, thumbs trying to swipe away your tears. Your cheeks are aflame, embarrassed to have spoilt such an intimate moment after so long. 

“I just - I just missed you.” You whimper, tucking your nose into his bicep. He cradles you to him softly beneath the spray, hushing you gently. This makes you cry more, thinking about how he’s held your babies like this; tenderly like they’re the most fragile  beings made entirely of glass. “Everything feels wrong! And… and…” You sniffle wetly. “And I can’t sleep properly without you and your dumb old man snoring!” 

“Oh, baby.” He chuckles into your hair. 

“I don’t like the whole limited contact stuff either.” You mumble. 

“Neither do I but it’s what was suggested and I think we need to try it, if we don’t like it then that’s a good sign.” He tries to pick your mood up, you pout and nod, leaning into his touch. 

“I’m scared we won’t fix this and I’ll have to watch you start dating someone else.” 

“I’m not gonna date anyone else, lady. I only want you, I’ve only ever wanted you.” He tells you. 

“That’s not true.” You hiccup. “Brandi Neil wanted you and you were going to go to Homecoming with her.” 

“Fuckin’ - that was literally over twenty somethin’ years ago and I went with you in the end!” He huffs indignantly. “Come on, let’s get dry and we can talk some more.” Joel guides you out of the shower with a gentle hand, turning off the water and handing you a towel. He leans over on more than one occasion to peck your lips, he smooths his thumbs beneath your eyes to wipe away the mascara that’s ran in the shower from the steam. 

Once you’re both relatively dry, there’s an awkward shift in the air as you’re both naked still and Joel looks very much aroused, half hard cock swaying as he moves. 

You saunter back to the bed, peering over your shoulder to see that you’ve captured his attention intently and he gulps as you climb onto the mattress, briefly resting on all fours for a split second, wet pussy drooling and exposed before turning onto your back. 

You stretch out against the sheets not dissimilar to a renaissance painting, skin dewy with a look on your face that Joel wants to savour. 

He climbs atop the mattress with you, pushing your thighs apart to settle between them. His warm mouth finds your nipples, sucking them and biting gently, you stretch and arch into him like a puppet on strings, the weight of your breasts fitting in each of his roughened palms. You feel the brush of his cock sway against your inner thigh and you buck against it, trying to encourage him closer, you huff when he ignores you in favour of worshiping your breasts. 

“Calm down.” He murmurs. “We’ll get there.” He promises in that deep baritone which makes your purr. Joel shimmies down your body, palm dragging along your sternum and settling on your stomach where your fingers find his in a desperate squeeze. 

The broadness of him fits between your thighs, one tossed over his shoulder to open you up. It’s erotic how he looks with his mouth on you, silver streaked hair visible and it’s not long before you’re clutching at it, writhing and moaning something pretty. 

He parts your labia and licks slowly, using only the tip of his tongue, flicking over your clit and coaxing it from beneath the hood, sucking it between his lips and running his tongue repeatedly over it as you gasp and pull his hair, he suckles and there’s a lewd slurp thrown in there. 

You purr like a kitten when his fingers enter you, moving steadily and brushing your G spot with such expertise that your eyes water. He knows what you like, having learnt your body and its responses for the better part of twenty years. A gush of slick aids the smooth movement of his ring and middle finger, stroking you from the inside until it proves too much to feel so far from him. 

“Up, Joel.” You whine, tugging his tresses with more force than necessary which causes him to bite your inner thigh in retaliation but he allows himself to be malleable at the hands of you, kneeling between your legs and wiping the slick of you from his moustache and beard. 

Rocking back onto his haunches, he fists his cock at the sight of you looking wrecked, that deep possessive part of him that’s smug because it’s him that makes you look like that; flushed and desperate. 

“I won’t last long, honey.” He warns as he gets into position, wrapping both legs around his waist. 

“Don’t care.” You state, reaching down to grab hold of him and guiding the blunt head of him through your lips, teasing yourself before you notch him just right. He eases himself in gentler than before in the shower, savouring that slow stretch as he feeds you himself until the wiry coarse hairs at the base are dampened by your wetness. 

He drops onto his forearms beside your head, caging you in as he begins to move, the pendant from his St Christopher bumps your chin. You make pretty noises, clawing at his back in a way that leaves diagonal lines in various shades of pink and red. Chests pressed together, heart to heart, a rhythmic beat perfectly in sync. 

“Tell me you love me.” You gasp.

Sitting up, Joel guides your leg over his shoulder, kissing your ankle bone, toying with the dainty gold anklet there that was an anniversary present some years ago. Your back arches against the sheets and you whimper sweetly at the new sensation of his hips fitting snuggly between your thighs and the weeping head of him nudging against the sponged wall of your cervix. 

“I love you.” He groans, hands grappling your hip bones, forcing you closer like he can’t get enough, he looms over you. “I love you so fuckin’ much.” 

“I love you.” You pant back. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” His nose nudges yours, lips hungrily searching to slot against yours, puffy and wet. “You remember night one of our honeymoon?” You press, exhaling hot and tone wanting. 

“Fuck yeah I do, fuck - “ His hips snap harder and you keen. “Pretty as a fuckin picture, still in your weddin’ dress on the floor.” 

“Fuck.” You sigh, fisting at his biceps with slippery fingers. “Barely made it through the motel door.” 

“You looked so fuckin good, honey. Havin’ my baby and ridin’ me on the floor.” His mouth slackens and his eyes slip closed, clearly deep in thought. 

“I wanna do it again, Joel.” You gasp, fingers shakily circling your clit, hard and slippery. 

“Yeah, baby. We’ll have another honeymoon, renew our vows first and everythin’.” He grunts. 

“Baby.” You whimper in his ear. “I’m cumming, fuck me harder.” You say it breathlessly and all his carnal instincts take over, he fucks you that hard the headboard slams into the wall and takes a layer of sage green paint off. You’re loud through your climax, hips jumping and blood rushing through every vein like accelerant and fire. 

“Jesus, I’m gonna cum. Fuck!” He groans, fingers moulding into the mattress, orgasm hitting so hard it makes the edges of his vision blacken. “Fuckin’ Christ.” You kiss his throat from your place beneath him, licking his jugular like the fucking minx you are, biting a tendon. 

The white of his teeth is blinding as his lip curls into a near snarl, the pulse of warmth as he orgasms spreads within you and you pant, flushed from head to toe. 

You kiss him as he grunts to completion, teeth clashing. 

“You’re so good - so good.” You murmur into his mouth, frantically pushing his hair from his damp forehead. “You’re perfect.” You hum, enraptured. 

“That’s you.” He smiles, lip curving against yours. “My pretty little wife.” 

He strokes your hair and traces your features, eyes searching yours for something; hope maybe and you smile gently at him, pulling him down beside you once he’s withdrawn from the warmth of your body. 

You rest against him, cheek to his chest to listen to the thrum below. You count his freckles and you trace his knuckles, you kiss his exposed skin over and over, you absorb as much of him as you can, feeling fulfilled for the first time in weeks. 

Joel quietly observes you, you lean up on your elbow, dragging your manicured nails down the centre of his chest, he watches you with his arm behind his head. You pause and lean down to rest your chin on his sternum, blinking with those fluttery lashes that cast a shadow high on your cheekbones. 

“Thank you for my flowers.” You say, he smiles softly and reaches down to stroke your cheek with his thumb. 

“You’re welcome.” He whispers. “Wanted to do somethin’ nice for you, Ellie messaged me and said you’d had a tough week at work before that dumb fucking argument we had.” His long fingers comb through your hair, you rest easily on his stomach now, letting your eyes slip shut. “Wanna talk about it, baby?” 

“Not really.” You huff. “I don’t want to unload my problems on you.” Joel sighs in exasperation at your vague answer. 

“You can tell me anythin’, you know that.” 

“We’re supposed to be taking time apart to stop the fighting, me unloading everything onto you isn’t going to help that.” You tell him. 

“I think communication is exactly what we need.” He disagrees. 

“You’re starting an argument now.” You chuckle with an eye roll, resting your cheek against his warm skin. He rolls his eyes back but doesn’t reply, continuing to stroke your hair, twirling some around his finger. “Joel?” You ask quietly. 

“Hmm?” 

“What if we can’t fix this?” 

“We can.” He replies determinedly. “Nearly twenty years together and two kids later, I’m still so in love with you, whether we’re fighting or not.” 

“I love you.” You murmur. 

“I love you more.” He replies. “And I love our girls.” Joel adds. 

“Me too.” You shift and snuggle into him, resting your head beneath his chin. 

He holds you quietly, his touch a major comfort. You think back over the almost month it’s been since the marriage counsellor had suggested Joel move out of the martial house for awhile and stay with his brother, just so you could see if distance would be beneficial after the amalgamation of late working nights, the stress of parenting two teenage girls and life itself along with naturally getting older, you already dancing that line of perimenopause. 

The space had made you realise you didn’t want to be without him and you’d both seemed to realise that you didn’t want to split up, you just needed to figure out a way to make things work. 

“I think we should trial the time apart for another week and keep seeing the counsellor for a few more months.” You begin. “I’m gonna figure something out at work and reduce my hours, no more bringing it home with me.” 

“That sounds good.” Joel murmurs, twisting a piece of your hair. “I’m goin’ to cut my days down to four, I think the finances will be fine and I want to be around here more for you and the girls.” He tells you, you nod slowly and blink away the tears that have suddenly come at the softness of his voice. 

“I don’t care if we have to give up any extra luxuries, I just need you and our kids here happy.” You emphasise. 

“That’s what I want too, baby. No more arguments over stupid shit, I’m sorry for bein’ so fuckin’ horrible lately.” 

“I was horrible too, Joel.” You say. “We just need to keep working on things and if we feel an argument brewing then we should take a step back and reassess what’s caused it and find a solution just like the therapist says.” You advise. “Also we should make time for a date night every week.” 

“Sounds good to me, baby.” Joel agrees, tugging you forward. “Kiss me, you have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” He murmurs sweetly and you go easily, moulding yourself over him to meet him for a deep kiss that speaks a thousand words and apologies. 

“Hey.” You say suddenly, eyes flitting over to the vanity where multiple photo frames sit. “You remember that trip we took to Seattle when the kids were little?” Joel follows your line of sight where they’re focused on one of the smaller frames holding two polaroids, one of Sarah and Ellie when they were eight and four, then another you’d taken of Joel on the pier with the wheel behind him you’d taken. 

“Yeah.” He says fondly. “That was a great trip, the kids loved it.” 

“What was that girl called that Ellie made friends with at the aquarium?” You smile as you think of a rambunctious Ellie, stomping around holding her Daddy’s hand in her tiny overalls, pointing at every fish she saw swimming ahead in the glass tunnels. 

“Oh er… fuck. What was it? Little blonde girl with a braid.” He recites, thinking back almost a decade. “Abby!” He suddenly exclaims and you hum, nodding. 

“That was it, they were so cute together watching the sea lion show, remember how jealous Sarah was that she thought all Ellie’s love was being stolen away.” You giggle, nuzzling his shoulder. “We should go again now they’re grown up.” 

There’s a comfortable silence as you bask in the evening sun coming through the window behind the bed, coating you in warmth while you lazily make out with your husband like you used to as teenagers in his beat up truck. 

You moan into his mouth when a hand sneakily skims your back and moulds to the fleshiest part of your backside. Sitting back to take a breath, you begin to kiss at his stubbled jaw, focusing intently on the grey patches and working yourself down his throat, to his clavicle and down his chest where he has yours, Sarah’s and Ellie’s name tattooed over his heart. 

He props himself up in interest on his elbows when you make it to his sternum, nipping near his navel and dragging your nails through the smattering of hair below it until you reach his groin. 

“You think you can go again?” You smirk at him, nipping his hip, sucking a small bruise into the skin above his pubic area.

“Keep doin’ that and I’ll be rarin’ to go.” He huffs, cradling the back of your head when you lick above his pubic area.

You move lower and his cock begins to swell against his thigh, his thighs tense when your hot breath drifts over his length. 

Just as you’re about to drag your tongue over the flushed head of him, you hear a car skim across the gravel driveway and you both freeze. 

“Shit, that’s the kids.” You panic, sitting up and swinging your legs off the bed to gather up something to wear. “Quick!” You urge Joel who looks equally as panicked as he yanks up his boxers. You find a long floral dress to throw on from the corner and manage to yank up the panties you were wearing earlier, the crotch becomes sodden with the semen but you ignore the uncomfortable wet feeling and try to fan away the flush on your cheeks as you watch your husband get dressed. 

You’re both barrelling down the stairs just as the front door opens and you bump into Joel as you skid on foyer tiles, he steadies you as your kids stare back. 

You and Joel try to act casual despite the feral things you’ve just done.

“You’re back early.” You squeak, very aware of your damp hair and smudged makeup. 

It’s a mere second before your daughter’s come barrelling full force towards the apple of their eyes, pregnancy and labour be damned. 

“Dad!” The girls squeal in unison, rushing to hug him. He wraps an arm around each of them, eyes slipping shut with contentment. 

“Hi, my girls.” He sighs happily, nosing Ellie’s hairline and then Sarah’s. 

“Missed you.” You hear Ellie tell him. 

“Hi, mom.” You mock unseriously, crossing your arms. 

“Hey, mom.” Ellie mocks devilishly, tilting her head back with the same teasing look her father possesses more often than not. She’s her father’s daughter, a carbon copy of him whereas Sarah is more like you. 

“You have a good afternoon?” You ask when Sarah meanders her way into your orbit, wrapping her arms around your waist. She nods against you and you tuck some hair out of her face, she nuzzles into you. 

“The movie was packed so we got frozen yoghurt and walked around Target instead, we got you some candy.” She says sweetly, rubbing her cheek into your collar whilst Ellie is resting her chin against Joel’s chest with her arms wound around his waist, whispering something that makes him chuckle and sway her from side to side tenderly. 

She stares up at him like he’s hung the stars and the moon just for you, you’re certain she’d crawl into his rib cage and stay there if she could and you don’t blame her.

“Thank you, sweet girls.” You beam. “Hey, are you both in for dinner tonight?” You suddenly wonder. 

“Yes, sir.” Ellie replies. 

“I’ve got no plans.” Sarah shrugs. 

“How about we Doordash something? Could eat it on the patio?” You suggest and Ellie cheers, Joel chuckles into her hair. 

“Even Dad?” Sarah hesitates as she asks, looking at you hopefully. Your heart breaks, Joel staying away had some serious effects in the first week even though they knew you weren’t going through a divorce and trying to fix things. Ellie acted out at school and Sarah shut herself away, both missing their father’s presence at home even though they saw him most days after school and on weekends if they weren’t out with friends. 

You’d never stopped them seeing him and wouldn’t dare to even if things were irreparable between you. 

“Of course.” You answer Sarah, Ellie looks between you and Joel curiously, her eyes narrow when she sees him smiling softly at you and clocks you blushing. 

“Whatcha both been doing?” Ellie asks slyly. 

“Hanging out, your Dad fixed the shelf for me.” You tell her nonchalantly over Sarah’s head. “So uh.. which one of you ratted on me for breaking it?” 

“Dunno what you’re talking about, man.” Ellie sniffs, you tug the end of her ponytail.

“Mmm.” You murmur, unconvinced. “Go get changed into something comfy and have a think about what you fancy for dinner.” You order, nodding towards the stairs. 

“Race ya!” Ellie bellows suddenly, pushing Sarah into you to get a head start. 

“Hey!” Her older sister shouts, barrelling after her while you sigh and head towards the kitchen, the peace and quiet officially gone. 

Joel gives you a flirtatious look and your heart jumps, your chest warms as do your cheeks. 

“Stop looking at me like that.” You demand, pushing his face away in the opposite direction. He chuckles and grabs your wrist, using it as leverage to pull you to him.  

“What? Like I want to eat you?” He murmurs lowly, you hum affirmatively. “Maybe I do.” 

“That could be arranged.” You whisper, he takes you back into his arms, walking with you until you hit the edge of the kitchen island. You pull him into a kiss, dragging your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck. 

He growls lowly and hoists you up onto the surface, stepping between your legs, running his hands up and down your parted thighs. 

“The kids are listenin’ to us.” Joel whispers into your ear when he pulls away, nodding outside of the kitchen entryway where you realise you didn’t hear them run all the way to the top of the stairs. 

“No, we’re not!” Sarah has the audacity to yell with offence, you giggle into Joel’s t-shirt.

“Get changed before I make your Dad cook his famous spaghetti surprise dinner tonight instead of getting take out!” You holler back. 

“That was one time.” Joel complains under his breath. 

“Make us a sister.” Ellie shouts from halfway upstairs. 

“No chance! Dad got snipped after you anyway, he said you were more than enough trouble and you were barely out the womb!” You shout back, cackling when you hear both her and Sarah gag fiercely. 

“It’s true!” Joel adds. “I had frozen peas on my crotch for days!”

“Gross!” They both exclaim. 

That night, you sit on the patio furniture, with your husband and children, your feet cradled in his lap with glasses of wine and takeout with quiet music playing from Alexa, giggling and telling them stories of your teenage years and some of a time they’re too young to remember, planning a trip to Seattle they’re ecstatic over. 

You’re certain that everything will be okay. 

[starogeorgina]

𝐔𝐧𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧

Paring: Aemond Targaryen × Targaryen reader, minor Daemon Targaryen × Targaryen reader

Warnings: Smut, swearing, violence, blood, incest, major character death, cruel Daemon

1.04

Holding Daenys close, you breathe in the sweet smell from the back of her head, a thick mop of silver hair tickling your nose. She was freshly bathed, and I wouldn’t be long until she was asleep. Jacaerys holds up a toy that belongs to one of his brothers that makes a rattling sound, and Daenys takes it into her chubby hand and starts shaking it, causing you both to smile.

She was so pure and innocent, just as Jace and his brothers are.

“I don’t understand, so it was part of your plan?”

“Yes,” Jace whispers. “I’m letting Daemon believe the greens are going north so that he is distracted.”

For so long the two sides of your family were pitted against each other, mainly by your own mothers doing, but seeing Jacaerys eyes gloss over as she holds tightly onto a toy seahorse that you’d seen Lucerys play with years ago saddens you. All he wanted was his brother back. It wasn’t something you could do, but perhaps you could help protect his three other brothers.

“Tis a clever move.” With your free hand, you squeeze his arm. “Hopefully it will keep him occupied enough for my plan to work.”

In a low voice, Jace asks, “Do you think he will be kinder now that you are with child?”

“The noose around my neck may be loosened, but I'm not yet free of it.” You rest your palm against your stomach; the evidence of Daemon’s seed taking root was yet to show. “If something goes wrong, it will be my sweet girl who pays the price, not me. I need to keep her safe.”

You had thought long and hard about the best way to protect your daughter and unborn child, and you saw no other solution than to kill Daemon.

—

The castle had a stillness to it that you did not like; it makes you feel on edge. Dressed in nothing but a nightgown and thin robe, you walk the empty halls feeling nothing more than a little mouse being hunted by a lion, knowing at any moment Daemon would appear; he was like a creature from a storybook, always lurking and hiding within shadows and corners of the magnificent fortress.

Your location inside the castle was impregnable.

If Aemond flew in on his dragon with a hundred men in tow, it would take far too long for them to find you.

Humming you round a corner that leads back towards the royal chambers you have been placed in and head footsteps echoing in the distance.

You stop, it stops.

Taking a deep breath, you hold your position and remain standing in the same spot, trying to listen and guess how close he is, but even still, you are taken aback when you feel Daemon’s hot breath hitting the tip of your spine.

“You shouldn’t be wandering the halls alone at this time.”

You wait a beat before turning to face him. “I could not find sleep.”

“Why?” He frowns. “Do you feel unwell?”

“N…no, just a little warm.”

“Then sleep naked,” he snaps. He spins you so you face the door into your chambers and starts guiding you towards it. “I will not have you risk my child’s safety because of the weather.”

“I’m uncomfortable,” you pout. “You don’t understand the frustrations that come from being in my condition.”

“I don’t recall either of my wives ever being this dramatic.” He shoves you inside the room and slams the door shut, causing Daenys to stir. “If you continue behaving this way, I will have you thrown into the dungeon and chained to the wall until the babe is ripped from your arms or womb.”

Ignoring him, you meet the terrified handmaid's gaze and go over to her and take Daenys from her, cuddling her in an attempt to stop her from whining. Poor little girl. The loud noise frightened her. “Please, Daemon,” you say between kissing your crying daughter's cheek. “None of it needs to be this way. Let us go home. This is not what Rhaenyra would want.”

This was the moment; Daemon’s answer would be the final decider of what happens next.

Daemon grips your jaw between his fingers. His voice is laced with venom. “You’re nothing but a spoiled cunt.”

“Ella,” stepping back, you turn to the handmaiden. “Can you please take her to the nursery?”

It pains you to hand Daenys over, but she couldn’t be in the room for much longer. You knew Daemon too well and knew exactly how to rile him up and when to strike. The prince was taller, stronger, and dare you even think it, but he is probably smarter than you, so you’d need to make him vulnerable.

Soon as the door closes, you push against his chest, “You’re a twisted old man.”

“Yet you crave me.”

Without removing your hand from his chest, you scoff, “Excuse me?”

“You may hate me, but you are intrigued. Infatuated.”

Groaning, you lean into him, letting your nose brush against his neck. “I’m not infatuated; I just become... needy while pregnant.”

“You’re no better than a whore in a brothel craving my cock for a coin,” he pinches your nipple. “Perhaps once the babe is born, I’ll put you to work in a whorehouse; depraved men will pay a lot for a silver-haired bitch."

You flinch at his words.

“What are you waiting for, niece? Remove your clothes and go lay on the bed.”

—

God, you hated this man.

Daemon grunted beneath you as you moved your hips up and down, feeling disgusted as Daemon stretched you out. It had taken the prince some time before finally letting you go on top. You kept repeating that it was all a means to an end to yourself. Daemon was only weak and vulnerable after sex; he could go for hours before being overcome by tiredness.

You lean down so your breasts are swaying in his face, and as expected, he turns his attention to them. He takes a hardened nipple into his mouth while growling at your other breast.

Your arms are strained as you place your hands on either side of the pillow beside his head. Time was everything; you’d never win one-on-one combat, so you needed to play dirty to survive. A niggling doubt was lingering in the back of your head, but then you think of how much physical and emotional pain the prince had caused you, all the bruises left on your body. You needed to do this, no matter how big a sin it was.

The second Daemon closes his eyes, your fingers tighten around the blade hidden underneath the pillow, just Daemon’s head, and in a blink of an eye, you slash his throat.

His hands immediately go to his throat, attempting to stop the blood from pouring. His voice is gargled, “fucking cunt!”

Crying out, you jump from the bed and scramble to throw the nightgown back on, and at the same time, Daemon falls from the bed. Not wanting to find out if the cut was deep enough, you run away, leaving the man who tortured you to die alone.

—

“Jacaerys!”

It was of no surprise to you that your nephew was waiting in the nursery; he knew you had a plan, just not what it included. The second his dark eyes land on you, he looks as if he’s going to vomit. Daemons blood coating your body had soaked through to your nightgown.

“I don’t have long,” tears stream down your cheeks. “We need to go.”

“You cannot leave dressed like that.” He was trying to be brave, but his voice was cracking. He looks at the handmaid who was shaking and says, “Bring the princess a pair of my mother's shoes and cloak, quickly. Do not mention what you have heard or seen to anyone.”

She scurries off to do as the prince says. Your heart rattles in your chest; how long would it be until someone discovers what you have done?

—

Sand fills your shoes as you make your way along the beach towards King's landing. The sun was now starting to rise, and it wouldn’t be long until someone spotted a silver-haired princess covered in blood carrying a crying babe.

The closer you were, the louder you could hear Stardust’s cries. You presume she was currently in the dragonpit; otherwise, she would have flown straight to you. The bond between dragon and rider was strong, and you just knew Stardust would be able to sense you.

Jacaerys wanted to stay with you, but you begged him to fly home while it was still dark. The last thing you wanted was for Vhagar to appear. Vermax may be faster, but the dragon was still only young, and you feared they may suffer the same fate as Lucerys and Arrax since Aemond would act before thinking.

By the time you arrive at the gates leading into the courtyard, now escorted by the kingsguard who had spotted you, the word of your return has reached the keep, and you come face to face with your husband.

He looks older, more worn out, and broken.

Just like you.

—

Your skin is red and feels sensitive to touch; not only was your body now scrubbed raw to remove Daemon's blood, but so you could finally feel free of him. The lilac-coloured dress that once was the most flattering clothing you owned now looked different on you. Your breasts now larger from breastfeeding and pregnancy threaten to stretch the fabric covering your chest, and the material now clings over to your stomach, doing nothing to hide the changes your body has gone through.

You only had a short time to gather your thoughts and briefly speak to Aemond before being bombarded with questions.

All you wanted was to push the bad stuff to the back of your mind and just be a mother, cuddle, and play with Daenys without fearing someone would take her from you. But it wasn’t to be. The dowager queen, Aegon, Ser Criston, and your grandsire had burst through your chamber doors, distributing the little peace that you had.

Your eyes jump between Aegon, who was continuously ranting about sending men to kill your eldest sister despite your protest, and Aemond, who was suspiciously quiet. He had said very little.

“Aegon!” You snap, slamming your hands against the table. “My dragon is twice the size Sunfyre is, and I swear by the gods that if you harm Rhaenyra or her children, I will burn this fucking castle down with you inside. Do I make myself clear?”

“She is a threat—”

“No, Daemon was the threat, but he is dead.”

Ser Criston clears his throat, “Perhaps we should let things rest for a couple of days, my king. The princess has been through something unimaginable; we need to let her rest.”

It was beyond frustrating; Aegon only cares how things appeared to the smallfolk over what actually happened. Jacaerys helped you survive on Dragonstone; he ‘accidentally’ left the blade in the room you were kept in. Tears aping to your eyes, “Our nephew helped me. I will not allow him to be killed for it.”

“I’m glad you have returned home, granddaughter, but we do need a story to tell our council.”

You stare at Aemond, waiting to see if he has any input, but he remains silent. “Say that it was a joint effort to recuse me; this is a lie, but it’s not as if my brother ended up on the throne because you spoke the truth.”

“A joint effort?” Aegon scoffs.

“I had to kill our uncle so I could escape, because I knew nobody was coming for me! Did anyone even read the letters Jacaerys sent telling you where I was?”

Your grandsire sighs, “You need to understand our position; it could have been a trick.”

“Get out.” You step away from him. “I want everyone to leave me alone!”

“Nought will be done tonight,” Aemond suddenly storms towards the door. “This conversation is upsetting my wife and will resume in the morrow.”

—

Between wiping away tears, you finish writing a letter addressed to Jacaerys. You had caught a glimpse of Rhaenyra while traveling to the dragon mount, and she looked more like a ghost than a human. You weren’t entirely sure how, but you would find a way to protect them.

Hearing a knock at the door, you call out, “Come.”

Maester Orwyle enters; he avoids making eye contact as he places a foul-smelling tea in front of you.

“What is that?”

“Moon tea, princess.”

“Why is it in front of me?” You push the small plate in front of you further across the table, away from you. “I did not ask for it.”

A look of panic crosses his features. “Forgive me, princess; I was under the impression you did.”

Before anything else can be said, Aemond walks into your shared chamber; he had awoken and left before you awakened.

“Leave us.” More tears spill, but this time it’s caused by rage. “I told you I was with child in confidence, and yet you betrayed me by speaking with the maester and having this brought to me. What if I had drunk it without knowing what it was?”

Aemond stares at you, looking defeated. “He—Daemon did unthinkable things to you.”

“I am so sick and tired of men telling me what to do!” Frustrated, you toss the cup of tea at the wall. “I am not the same person I was, Aemond. I will not allow anyone to tell me what to do.”

“I’m not trying to tell you what to do,” he says, striding towards you until he’s close enough to cup your cheek. “I asked Orwyle what options you had; I did not think he'd brew the tea before we had a chance to talk.”

“My heart still aches for Anya and Rhaella.” You bring his hand to gently rest against your stomach. “It may be hard to understand, but this baby is mine, not his. I will care for this boy or girl as much as I do, Daenys. Can you?”

“I’m afraid that it will be a constant reminder of what was done to you.”

Your foreheads touch. “Then let it be a reminder of how hard I fought to get back to you, to save our daughter.”

A single tear falls from his eye. “I thought about you every day. I’ve done things I’m not proud of, but I will try my best to set things right.”

—

You return to your bedchamber after visiting your sister to say goodnight emotionally exhausted. You had remained cooped up inside your chamber to avoid dealing with the rest of your family, but you missed Helaena and needed to see her. You had refused any assistance from the handmaids on the assumption Aemond would already be asleep. Starting to untie the back of your gown, you reach the side of your bed, and your stomach drops. The cot at the foot of your bed was empty.

Just as you go to scream for the kingsguards standing on the opposite side of the door to enter, you hear a humming coming from the far side of your chambers. Sprinting over, you see Aemond standing by the fireplace, gently rocking your babe in his arms.

“She woke up fussing.”

“Tis not surprising; all this change has been a lot for our little princess.”

Aemond places Daenys into her crib, then sits in the chair beside it, his eyes glued to her the entire time. “Jacaerys, Rhaenyra, and the rest of her children will be spared.”

You fiddle with the loose ribbons hanging from your dress. “Aegon changed his mind?”

“With some persuasion.” Aemond takes hold of your hand and guides you to sit on his knee. “It does not please me to see him remain on the throne; our brother is a fool, but the matter is settled. He will allow Rhaenyra to remain queen of the rock she lives on.”

“Hmm,” you rest your head on his shoulder, letting Aemond hold you close. “I don’t ever want our daughter going through something like I did.”

“I cannot say what our futures will hold, but I swear to you now nobody will ever take you or Daenys again.” Aemond kisses your forehead. “I will keep the both of you safe by my side, always.”

[aggro-my-beloved]

Asher + Babe HC’s

＊ after their first meeting, asher volunteered himself to do any and all miscellaneous errands involving paperwork and notarization if it meant going back to baabe’s place of work so he could chance running into them again

＊ they even timed each other’s schedules in order to squeeze in tens of lunch dates through the week before making anything official. one thing that took baabe by surprise during these rendezvous, though, was the same request asher gave to each waiter/waitress.

＊ baabe supposed hot sauce wasn’t that odd of a condiment to put on his burger, but amidst their fourth date when he was loading it on top of his mashed potatoes, they had questions.

＊ asher has grave mouth. his tastebuds are basically useless from all the sour candy he consumed as a child/teen. he can drink lemon juice straight without puckering. this info shut baabe right up, but left them satisfied.

＊ to ensure his meals aren’t entirely bland, he puts hot sauce on almost everything he eats. this has led to some questionable, if not disgusting combinations he has sworn against—including, but not limited to sriracha-topped waffles and red hot chocolate

＊ the pack beta also likes to skateboard, baabe disovered. cmon, they live in california—it was between skating and surfing and this man burns too easy at the beach. his mate would be lying if they said they didn’t admire his freckled face from time to time, though.

＊ give him a shovel on malibu’s finest sand though? he’d dig a hole so big it’d be considered a safety hazard. and he did, the one time he and baabe went on their shared day off. the lifeguard had to come and stop him, urging baabe to glance up from their magazine and gape at the trench a dangerous proximity from their beach chair.

＊ once they did leave, asher was sulking about how he could’ve made the hole so much bigger and deeper (hehehe) had he been shifted and able to use his paws and let primal instinct kick in. baabe consoled him with ice cream and an aloe massage later on, promising they’d try for a private beach and a higher spf sunscreen the next time around

＊ long-haired babe’s go to hairstyle is space burns. asher adores the style on them so much he asked for them to do the same to his hair. it didn’t turn out similar in the slightest (more like two tiny pigtails sticking out lopsided atop his head) but he was happy with the results and that’s all that mattered.

＊ “hell yeah, baaabe! you can’t even tell us apart!”

＊ the only way baaabe can remember to practice self-care is when asher reminds them. sometimes he’ll point out a soothing face mask in the store’s cosmetic aisle or run them a hot bath, but the only way for baaabe to fully indulge is if they offer asher to join them in the activity. and he always says yes, otherwise the task will be long forgotten on his mate’s part. and asher would be caught in a lie to say he didn’t want to see how that one bath bomb in particular fizzled out into the water.

＊ when the weather starts cooling down in the fall, asher likes to take walks in his wolf form. so baaabe can join him in public, they modified his spiked choker to act as a dog collar that baaabe can add a leash to, so no unempowered humans get suspicious at the sight of him. that’s right. asher is babe’s scary dog privelage.

＊ he gets a little too eager and excited on these walks though, best believe he’s pulling his mate down the sidewalk 90263692634962692 mph to take in everything while baabe tries not to stagger or fall flat on their face

＊ after several failed attempts at this, they repurpose ash’s skateboard as a mode of transportation for baabe to safely ride on as asher pulls them down the sidewalk. a much better solution than their twelve-year old heelies shoes that were falling apart at the seams.

＊ asher and baaabe are the only couple in the pack that collectively like horror movies/games/media. the only exception for baabe is haunted houses, which both discovered one fateful october at Dahlia’s local amusement park. one of the scare actors frightened baabe so badly, they left with a broken nose, and baabe with a bruised set of knuckles on their right hand.

＊ asher was quick to comfort them during the embarrassing ordeal, but just as quick to laugh and tease them about it later on. he’d be saying shit about how “you should’ve dressed as rocky with an uppercut like that”

＊ once they did leave, baabe sulked, arguing that “zombies are a different type of scary than werewolves and vampires—it was all self defense!” asher consoled them with ice cream later, promising no more haunted houses in the future for the sake of baabe’s hands and innocent workers’ noses alike.

〈 TLDR: baaabe and asher are adorkably sweet together and both love ice cream 〉

[noxturnalnymph]

Devotion 🖤 I. Stronger Together (Ch 3)

CultLeader!Joel x OFC!Reader

Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?

Visit the Series Masterlist for series warnings, cult info, timeline info, and HCs on ages. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions - is an OFC from Reader POV.

*This series is 18+ MDNI. I will not be listing individual chapter warnings as I don't want to spoil the plot of each chapter. Please see the series masterlist for entire series warnings to decide if this is for you.*

LAYOUT OF JOEL'S HOUSE PREVIOUS

I. Stronger Together

CH 3 (5.3k) One afternoon you come back with Bianca from your baths and Tess informs you that you’ll now be accompanying Joel to one of his weekly community meetings. There are the three nights a week that you all leave the house, but Joel also goes out after dinner the other four nights of the week, interacting with different groups in The Valley. Tess has always accompanied him to his Thursday meeting and she lets you know that you’ll be taking her place.

At the meeting he introduces you to the group, which is comprised of farmers who live further down the Valley, outside the safety of the town. You learn that they come together every Thursday to bring in the animal products, take away food, trade supplies, discuss safety issues, and spend some time socializing. The evening meeting with Joel is the last thing they do before they head back to their land.

With each passing week, he watches you come out of your shell more and he’s impressed by your demeanor. You assist the older folks with getting a drink and a bite to eat. You make conversation with them, easily giving them your time and attention. You nod and listen when they speak with Joel about their concerns. Most importantly, you don’t overstep. You allow him to speak, giving them his practiced lines, finding solutions to their issues and pacifying their fears.

You however, feel like you’re struggling to find your place at the house. In your attempt to fix the holes in Joel’s socks you accidentally sewed the socks shut, leaving Tess to pull the stitches and mend them properly. Tess gives you some rags and asks that you clean all of the surfaces in the house. She stops you ten minutes later when you can’t stop sneezing from the dust. She assigns you to the laundry instead, but the cold, soapy water makes your hands break out in hives. She makes a joke about you being allergic to hard work, but she doesn’t laugh. You think she was joking.

Sometimes you work outside with Rosie in the mornings, but you hate getting all dirty and smelling like earthworms. You pull up too many weeds that aren’t weeds and she sends you inside, urging you to use your talents elsewhere. What talents? You tag along with Sasha sometimes, and listen as she tells you how to set a trap for small animals, but you feel completely useless at her side. She’s good at so many things and you feel like a clumsy oaf, even more so when you trip in the woods one afternoon and scare off the deer she’d been tracking for an hour. She doesn’t attempt to hide her irritation the way Rosie did.

Kerri and Bianca try to use your help in the kitchen, but you burn all of the chicken on the grill your first night cooking. They switch you to helping with preparing the meals, but you cut yourself so badly with the knife that Joel threatens to take you back to the clinic and give you more of his blood. You stand against the doorframe with your arm above your head for forty five minutes before it stops bleeding and he calms down. No more kitchen work for you, he mutters as he holds you on the couch later, letting you rest while everyone else cleans up the meal.

All of the women are too nice to give you the dirty looks that you think you deserve. They all earn their place here and what can you do? Nothing. You try not to be sad the day that your only friend at the house, Bianca, moves out. Is she actually your friend, or is she just too timid to tell you off? You go up to the attic to help her pack up her few belongings before Tess sends you downstairs to help Kerri pack up to leave the room she’s been sharing with Sasha. 

You’re nervous that with Bianca gone you’ll be expected to take over her chores, which are a little bit of everything. You seem to mess up every chore you’re assigned. What the fuck are you supposed to do with yourself? As you walk down the stairs you hear Tess tell Bianca that this is for the best, and that she’s just getting bigger. You’d noticed Bianca gaining weight but you didn’t know that was a problem. Did Joel say something about her weight gain? Why would he care? 

You let your thoughts spiral a bit, wondering if Joel cared about your weight, if he would ask you to leave if you put on more pounds. Fat and useless, what a combo that would be. You’re not exactly skinny as it is, and you’re not even as nice looking as Bianca, with her kind, warm, brown eyes and her long, chestnut hair. She’s very shy and nearly silent but she’s very pretty. You see men look at her. Most people don’t give you a second glance, but that’s the way you prefer it. There’s a reason you chopped all your hair off and wore tight bindings across your chest for months.

You don’t want men looking at you. When a man looks at you he’s only thinking about one thing. He’s thinking what he can get out of you, what he can take from you; except Joel, you tell yourself. Joel doesn’t look at you like that. Joel doesn’t take, he wouldn’t do that. He still looks at you with wonder. He still has so many questions in his eyes about you that you’ve been slowly trying to answer. Maybe if you let him in, show him you’re trying to trust, he won’t care that you aren’t as useful in the home as the other women. 

–

Joel’s schedule is packed, making up for meetings he missed while he visited with you all day, every day in the clinic for nearly two weeks. It means you have less reading time together during the week, so your time together dwindles to holding hands under the table at mealtimes, quick smooches as he pulls you into his office between meetings, and nuzzling into each other outside your bedroom door in the mornings. 

Your only real alone time now is walking to and from the meeting on Thursdays. Each week after the meeting ends the group members filter out, some staying back to help you put away the folding chairs. As a group, you all walk together to the town square before splitting up; them heading out of town while you and Joel head back to the house. Each of these evenings allows you two a few stolen moments alone on the porch of the house before returning inside.

First you just spend them with your foreheads touching, noses brushing, and shared giggles between your pressed together lips. The second week Joel drags you onto his lap on the front porch bench, kissing and licking at your neck while you card your fingers through his hair. You start to panic when you feel him getting aroused underneath you, but the terrified voice in the back of your mind is muted when the front door opens and Sasha comes out for firewood, interrupting and ending your time alone together.

The following week is Thanksgiving, one of the few holidays The Valley celebrates. Joel makes sure you’re sitting next to him at the head table. There is so much going on, almost every single person – save for a small patrol – is gathered together for this feast. Everyone joins hands above the table while someone makes a prayer, but Joel doesn’t let go of yours for a long time afterward.

Even though you haven’t been getting as much alone time together, Joel feels like you’re still growing ever-closer. He has you next to him for this holiday meal so he can show you off. He wants everyone in The Valley to see that you trust him, that you’re becoming his. He notices your wide eyes scan the room, overwhelmed by the very large crowd of people and the raucous event. He leans over and whispers in your ear.

“What are you thankful for, baby?”

He sees your eyes cast down, trying to hide a shy smile. You squeeze his hand and meet his eyes. He squeezes yours back to ground you, to reassure you, like he’s taming a feral little animal.

The following week as you and Joel put away the chairs after the meeting, you hear a man call out a goodnight and you look up just in time to see the last farmer heading out the door. You turn in a circle to confirm there is no one else in the room with you and Joel, and your eyes come back to the door just as it clicks shut. The silence that follows is deafening. You’re completely alone with Joel. Completely.

What strikes you is not the all-encompassing fear that grips you; what strikes you is how this is not the usual fear you have come to know from being alone with a man. For once, you’re not scared of what Joel might do – by now you trust him not to hurt you. You have been mostly alone with him so many times in the last two months and he has always been gentle and respectful, never crossing your still-unspoken boundaries.

After he told you about his daughter, something inside of you shifted. For the first time in your whole life you thought that perhaps you belonged somewhere. Being here with him feels right, it feels like your destiny. You’re not scared of him doing something, you’re scared of him doing nothing. What if he doesn’t want you as badly as you want him? What if he got tired of waiting for you? What if he rejects you?

Joel sees you staring at the door with that look in your eye, the look like you want to run right through it, leaving behind a cartoonish hole in the door in your wake. 

“PJ”, he says, and your eyes find his, “Let’s put away these chairs and we can go.” 

–

He doesn’t try to hold your hand on the way home, worried that you’re too skittish for him to touch, sure that you’d bolt if he tried. You’ve never done that, you’ve never run from him and yet it’s always in the back of his mind. He’s so worried about losing you. He thinks about it all the time. It terrifies him.

The hour is late when you return to the house and you find it dark, everyone already in bed. You both head upstairs but instead of heading into his room as he usually does, he turns with you and stands outside your door. You tilt your head back to look up at him. Your hair has been growing out, looking more like a pixie cut now. He can just see the wet of your eyes twinkle in the darkness.

“Do you wanna come in?” you ask, your voice faint even in the silent house. 

A deep rumble emanates from Joel’s chest. He can’t enter your room. It’s been one of Tess’ rules since the beginning and it’s very important to her. The position he holds in The Valley, the way that everyone looks up to him, she said they’ve put him on a pedestal. And once on a pedestal you have to be very careful because everyone can see you. 

Everyone knows he lives with all of these women, and everyone knows that he sleeps with most of them. Everyone but you. He’s kept this knowledge from you on purpose. They are consenting adults, they each have their own space and their own autonomy. If they want to initiate sex with him, they come to his room. He doesn’t go to them, keeping it entirely on their terms. 

But how does he reject your offer to come into your room without telling you the rest? Without revealing all of his half-truths and omissions. It’s taken so long for you to trust him, he can’t destroy that trust. But won’t saying no hurt you too? He wants to say yes but he can’t. How the fuck does he say no to you? Shit. He’s already waited too long to answer, his silence has gone on for too long.

“We could… close the door,” you offer. His eyes clench shut.

Jesus Christ you’re going to kill him. His dick is aching in his jeans right now. He’s been waiting for you to make an offer like this for so long. Waking up every morning hard, having to jerk off like a teenager before he can even start his day. None of the women have even tried to come to his room for sex since he brought you down off that mountain. He didn’t ask but he’s sure they see him preoccupied with you. Hell, he’s damn near drowning in you.

He’s never been like this with a woman he’s brought into the house. Never kissing them in the kitchen or touching their knees under the dinner table. He’s never made out with one of them in his office between meetings or woken up early just to smell their hair in the hallway. He’s gone off the fucking rails and it’s all because of you. But he can’t break the rule, he can’t accept your invitation into your room. He also can’t tell you about the rule.

Your heart is going to beat out of your chest, you’re sure of it. Joel reaches one hand forward to grab yours, finally touching you. His calloused fingertips trace the inside of your wrist, gently moving across the delicate skin. You can barely see in the dark but you know he’s moved closer because you can smell him, feel the heat of his body radiating off him. His clothes smell like sunshine, line-dried in the crisp autumn air. You smell the day wafting off his skin, a hint of sweat and leather hits your nostrils.

Your knees begin to knock together and you’re so afraid that they’re going to give out under you when he rejects you. You reach your free hand up to brace yourself, placing it on his chest, feeling his own heart thumping wildly underneath. You barely hear him say not tonight PJ over the pulsing beat in your ears, but before you can react to his refusal you feel his arms snake around your waist and he’s pressing his lips onto yours, hard. 

He pushes you up against the open door frame of your room, his feet planted securely in the hallway. You immediately grant his tongue access to your mouth and he begins to explore it, for the first time. You’ve never felt his hot wet tongue against yours, and you think it just might be the thing that kills you. You moan into his mouth as you throw your arms around his neck.

He continues to kiss you with moving lips and licking tongue, your hands moving to twist in his curls – curls that are a bit longer than when you first met him. His arms roam freely up and down your back, pulling you close to him and pressing your hard nipples against the broad planes of his chest. You’re lost in the heat of him, the taste of him, the feel of his body pressing to yours. You’ve waited so long for this. You don’t know how long it’s going to last but you never want it to end.

Driven by lust, madness, or both, you cup your hand over the zipper on his jeans, palming his erection. It feels so big in your hold. He exhales a moan into your mouth and clutches his hand overtop of yours, pressing you into him more firmly, curving your fingers around the heft of it. Fuck, it’s so hard. You feel wetness dripping out of you into your underwear. Holy fuck you’re getting dizzy. 

Unable to even think straight, you don’t notice he’s let go of your hand until you feel it cupping the front of your jeans, and the noise that leaves your mouth is sinful. He slams his mouth overtop of yours to muffle your wail but it still echoes down the silent hall. You know he must feel the heat radiating off your core, he must already feel how embarrassingly wet you are. He brings both hands to the front of your jeans and undoes the button, pausing to look you in the eyes and wait for you to nod him on further. You do.

As he takes down the zipper you close your eyes and think this is finally it, you’re finally going to feel him where you need him the most. But instead of feeling his fingers skirt along the waistband of your underwear, you feel them touching your lips. You open your eyes and his face is inches from yours. He nods his head and tells you to open, and lets his index and middle finger pass over your lips and touch your tongue.

He doesn’t have to tell you to close your mouth, you do it on your own, closing your eyes again and letting your pooling saliva coat his digits. You lick your tongue between them, along his knuckles and the pads of his fingers, then you gently suck, running your tongue flat along the underside as if it were another part of him in your mouth instead. You wish there was more light in the hallway because when you open your eyes to look at his face you’re pretty sure he looks the way you feel.

He takes his fingers out of your mouth slowly, a trail of saliva connecting them to your tongue briefly, before he dips them into your underwear and slides them right over your clit. He wouldn’t have known of course, but he didn’t need you to wet his fingers, you were already soaking wet from just his touch. The state he finds you in sends jolts of electricity surging down his cock. 

He gently rubs his finger alongside your bundle of nerves, dragging them down to collect even more of your ample wetness. You scramble your hands up the front of his shirt, longing for skin-to-skin contact with him. You shuffle your fingers through his sparse chest hair and drag your nails over his hardening nipples, causing him to crash his lips against yours to silence his own groan this time.

He pushes his middle finger towards your hole and feels you nodding as he does it. His finger slides inside you so easily; you’re so fucking wet. He’s never felt anyone this wet before. You reach around behind him and shove your hands down the back of his pants, grabbing handfuls of his ass, squealing against his mouth when you discover that he’s not wearing underwear.

He continues to work his middle finger in and out of your tight hole, spreading his index finger to run it up alongside your exposed clit. He knows you like it because you’re whimpering and clawing at him non-stop. It’s so loud in the otherwise dead-silent house but he can’t bring himself to give a single shit who else can hear you. Every sound you make goes straight to his leaking dick.

He pulls his mouth off yours and brings his face to your hair, inhaling deeply. Today was your bath day and your hair smells like soap and lavender. He likes it but he prefers when it smells slept-in, smells like you. He lowers his mouth and sucks a dark mark into your skin just below where your neck meets your shoulder, then he brings his lips to your ear, biting and kissing your earlobe. 

He whispers in your ear; you’re so fucking wet baby, you’re so tight, can feel how wet you are, can you feel it baby?, I’m gonna smell like you after this ya know, you’re all over me, can you hear it?, you’re gonna feel me for days baby, for days.

You yank on his arms, pulling him as close to you as possible and orgasm with a squeal, shuddering in his hold and panting his name over and over into the hollow of his neck. He takes his hands out of your pants, glistening with your release, and greedily shoves his fingers into his mouth above your head. Once clean he brings his face to the side of your neck, nuzzling you and nipping at your skin there and breathing in your heady scent.

Before either of you get a chance to give any due attention to his painful, raging erection, Tess’ door opens and she comes out of the room to head towards the bathroom. You yip in embarrassment and cross into your room, closing the door in Joel’s face. Joel shoots Tess a pissed off look and Tess shrugs her shoulders.

“Sorry, it sounded like you guys were done,” she says flippantly as she closes the bathroom door.

Joel knocks lightly at your door a few times and you open it a bit, mortified at being caught acting like a couple of horny teenagers. 

“Don’t be shy, baby,” he coos. “We didn’t do anythin’ wrong.” 

That’s true. He made sure to stay outside of your room so Tess has nothing to be upset about. He leans his face into the crack of your door and you give him several kisses on the lips but then you hear Tess coming back out of the bathroom and you shut the door in his face again, muttering a flustered goodnight from the other side of the wood.

He turns to Tess again, visibly angry and she suppresses a smile. She resists teasing him verbally and instead kisses him on the cheek and wishes him a goodnight also, closing her door behind her. Joel takes himself into his room and fucks his fist – again – to thoughts of you.

–

The week passes quickly, alone time together still nonexistent as Joel’s responsibilities increase. He always seems to be out of the house on patrols, having meetings, and visiting community members. He argues with Tess about his schedule being too full and she tells him winter is hard, and that people need extra reassurances to make it through. She also reminds him, in a whisper, that he has spent a lot of time focusing on one person and ignoring the rest, and he needs to make up for that. His only response is a growl before he leaves the room.

Joel finds you outside the bathroom door one morning and you blush, realizing you’re wearing one of his button-up shirts, ready to defend yourself for pilfering it off the laundry line. Instead of admonishing you, he wordlessly pulls the open collar over your one shoulder a bit, observing the fading mark he’d sucked into your skin. He kisses over it gently and you think he’s having regrets about marking you like that, but you say nothing, a little embarrassed by the fact that you stare at it every morning in the bathroom mirror.

When Thursday comes around again you find yourself alone once more after the meeting, entering a house that is dark and quiet. Instead of going upstairs you both go into the kitchen for a glass of water, slowly taking sips from your glass before you lose all control and launch yourself at him. This might be your first time instigating this kind of behavior but your need for him fuels your boldness.

You grab at him everywhere you can reach, pulling him tight to you, feeling the hardness of his shoulders under your hands and the softness of his belly against yours. You pull on fistfulls of his hair and shove your tongue into his mouth, eliciting groans from him. You don’t even care how desperate you appear as you writhe against him, whimpering. You are desperate for him. 

You need him to hold you tight, to kiss you hard, to make you feel like a woman. You need to belong to him, to matter to him, to make him happy. You need him to give you purpose, to bring you joy, to make you whole. You need him to make you forget every man that came before him, every hand that touched you with bad intentions. You need to feel his body enveloping you. You need him to consume you.

He pulls you into the dining room and lifts your legs up to place your butt on the table’s edge but instead you wrap both legs around his waist. He growls at your aggressive move and pushes your back down firmly on the dining table, keeping himself against you. He begins to grind himself against your core, unable and unwilling to hold himself back.

Feeling like feral animals, you lick and moan into each other’s mouths as the table creaks beneath you. You shove your hands up the back of his shirt, clawing marks down him. He moves his face along your neck, taking deep inhaling breaths and nipping at your skin, debating on whether to give you a fresh mark. Fisting your hands in his hair, you tug on his locks and interrupt his thoughts, earning groans that he muffles into the crook of your shoulder. 

Suddenly the lights in the kitchen flip on, and Tess is standing in the doorway.

“Please,” she says calmly, “Not on the table where we eat.”

You clap your hand over your mouth, silencing your loud yelp. Joel pushes himself off the table, also startled by her appearance. You take the opportunity to scramble away and run up the stairs. Hearing your door slam closed, Joel turns to Tess, snarling.

“What the fuck, Tess? What the fuck,” grabbing the edge of the table in a splintering grip. 

“Why don’t you two just fuck already?” she chuckles, trying to rile him up.

“That’s what I’m fuckin’ trying to do,” he growls, slamming his fists down several times. 

“Don’t break my fucking table,” she snaps at him. 

Joel grabs her by the hips and pushes her face down bent over the table, slamming his body into her ass. Tess just lays there, letting him rut into her for a moment. He grabs her by the hair, yanking her up, and takes a big inhale into the back of her head, continuing to grind his pelvis into her. He takes a few more breaths and stops moving his hips, calming down. Eventually he releases her, pushing her away from him harshly.

“Yeah, I don’t smell like her, do I?” Tess says. 

He mutters something she can’t quite make out, still pissed off. She can see his softening erection but a wild fucking look remains in his eyes. She watches him point to the table several times before he opens his mouth. 

“That’s my fuckin’ table. I’ll do whatever I fuckin’ want to it,” and with that he goes up to bed. 

He jerks off in his room alone. Again.

–

Once again the interim week is relatively tame, as you don’t have much chance to be alone together. You manage to sneak in kisses and touches when you can, but your stolen moments are no longer innocent. There’s no more playful giggles or gentle caresses. You exchange lustful glances over the table, your kisses are laden with tongue and your touches are now groping and needy. 

You wake up every morning having dreamt of him all night, and spend every day wet and wanting, full-body shudders running through you at the memory of his hands and lips on you. Everytime you pass him in the hallway you ache for him, fleeting touches never fulfilling the longing you feel. You can’t get to sleep at night without touching yourself, covering your face with your pillow to muffle your pleasure. 

You don’t remember being this wound up over anyone in your whole life, especially not since the world ended and every day became a fight to survive. Touching yourself never brought you such relief before, but imagining it’s Joel touching you ignites a spark deep inside and your desire is driving you mad. Joel makes you forget how miserable things are, how scared you’ve been. He makes you feel safe.

The next Thursday you come back from the meeting much later than expected, Tess is waiting up – drinking tea in the dining room, a bit concerned. She sees you both enter, him practically carrying you inside and up the stairs. When he comes back down she goes to make some commentary about you two “finally” doing the deed when she sees a fresh wet stain high inside the thigh of his pants. Did he come in his pants?

“What the fuck?” she can’t help it from slipping out. 

He doesn’t meet her eyes, just shrugs his shoulders and shuffles into the kitchen for a drink. He doesn’t seem agitated like he was when she interrupted him before so she thinks he must at least be satisfied with whatever happened tonight. He passes back through the room and mutters a goodnight, heading upstairs without elaborating on the state he’s in or what kept you two so late.

She’s known Joel for many years and has felt a lot of things for him, but at no point did she let herself believe that he felt anything close to love for her. She had actually convinced herself that he was incapable of feeling love, and is pretty sure he’s convinced himself of the same thing. But what is this if not true intimacy?

She wasn’t sure about you at first, especially given your penchant for fucking up your chores. But you are friendly to your housemates and giving in the community. You’re kind but reserved, and although it takes you a while to warm up to people, Tess firmly believes that you’re a genuinely good person, and – most importantly–- could be truly good for Joel. She sees that Joel lets his guard down around you, and that you like Joel for who he really is, which is something he doesn’t show to anyone.

She knows he’s kept things from you, and wonders how much he’s been manipulating you in-between letting his true self show. Maybe that’s not the right word for what Joel does, manipulate. It doesn’t feel like that’s what he’s doing when you’re the target of it. It feels good, amazing even, because when Joel makes you feel like you matter to him, it’s intoxicating. It’s the best fucking feeling in the world.

She wonders if things are going to change, and how they might change. She thinks that if Joel can admit his true feelings and commit, then his relationship with you could change the very trajectory of this community. She and Joel worked very hard to build this community up but she knows that it’s stable enough now that a change like this won’t topple it. She quietly hopes it will change significantly.

She doesn’t love how subserviently women are treated in this community and has always wondered if it would transform if Joel took a partner. For a while she hoped that partner would be her, but that thought died out long ago. If Joel is seen in public showing love and affection for an equal female partner, it could benefit women and the community as a whole going forward.

She lets herself envision that future, where Joel embraces his feelings and makes changes in his home and the community, and the positive effects are felt all across The Valley. But the biggest hurdle will be getting Joel to admit to himself – and everyone else – the softness and vulnerability that you bring out in him. Letting himself love someone means opening himself up to loss, and if there’s one thing that Joel Miller does not do, it’s lose.

🖤

NEXT

Thank you endlessly to @papipascalispunk for helping me with this series and listening to me rant about Cult Leader Joel. 🫂 I appreciate you SO much.

TAGLIST (lmk if you wanna be added or removed) @strang3lov3 @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @covetyou @iamasaddie @sr-lrn @clawdee @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @merz-8 @speckledemerald @alltheseperfectimperfections @survivingandenduring @afraidtofear @millennial-teenybopper @missladym1981 @xdaddysprincessxx @lumoverheaven @ghoulettesinspace @brittmb115 @wintersquirrel @obscurexsorrows @littlevenicebitch69 @lulawantmula @pedroswife69 @joeldjarin

[emelinstriker]

Macaque ♡ Bath Time

First of all, this is all still SFW, but would be leading into NSFW with the ending implication. So this still counts as Fluff. Also I personally would call him Mac-Mac, so that shall now be implemented into my fics.

That being said...

CW: slight suggestive vibe, nudity, mild gore(? had to hold back a lot from making it full on detailed descriptions), maybe faint yandere behavior if you squint

♡ ~ Fluff ~ ♡

"I've told you before. Hands off my territory... No one to blame but yourself."

The dark-furred simian dropped the demon's corpse onto the pavement with a dark grin. It's been a while since he really got to do this to another demon. He's been holding back his true strength ever since he met you, in hopes of not scaring you off... Well, at least he didn't usually attack demons with you around. That didn't mean he would kill them even when you weren't present.

However... this particular demon crossed the line. Not only did this demon return to the apartment complex, the Six-Eared Macaque's territory, despite having been warned... But this demon also threatened to kill him, as well as you and your neighbors right after.

Little did he know that your husband was a lot more capable than any other ordinary demon this guy had ever faced before, by far. Despite his size compared to the intruder, he could easily fold him.

And of course, Macaque didn't take this random demon's threats lightly. Killing off a threat to you and your home once in a while wouldn't be so bad, no? Surely a little bit of self-defense in the name of your safety should be fine.

So he did what he seemed most fit. Getting rid of the pest that spoke of those threats. After all, endangering you in any way, shape or form was off-limits. Anyone attempting to break this one simple rule had to deal with the consequences and would be punished by your loving husband...

Violence may not always be the answer, but life is multiple choice.

And death was just one of the options.

A quite merciful one at that.

Macaque glanced down at the blood that now stained not only his clothes, but his fur too. He rolled his eyes, grumbling about needing to take a bath. After all, he wouldn't want his beloved to be stained by another demon's blood when he hugged them. And thus, he disposed of the body by engulfing it in a shadow portal. He was torn between letting it fall into lava or the ocean, but he decided that lava would be the quickest solution. If the corpse somehow managed to not be gone by the time the Demon Bull Family saw something floating on the surface of one of their lava pits, then they could simply see it as a nice aesthetic gift to their home.

He used another shadow portal to return to your shared apartment's living room. Everything was quiet, so much so that he had no problems hearing all your neighbors without even trying, which the shadow monkey already anticipated. Usually it was him that would come home later than you, but not today since his plays were scheduled for only half of the week. And it was a good thing he had the day off. Who knows what would've happened if you came home first and encountered the demon he got rid of instead!

After making his way past your bedroom door, he let a shadow clone enter and pick some fresh clothes for him. Meanwhile, he prepared his bath. The dark-furred simian noticed the lack of a shampoo bottle near the bathtub, so he ended up picking the plum-scented shampoo from the cabinet beneath the sink. Macaque was considering using body wash as well, but decided against it as most of what the blood got on was pure fur anyway. His shadow clone then walked in with fresh clothes, placing them on the closed toilet seat before vanishing back into his shadow.

However, before he could undress, his ears caught the sound of keys clashing by the front door. He smiled to himself at the implication- Only you had keys to the apartment since he didn't need keys to enter. And his assumption was indeed correct.

"Mac-Mac, I'm home!" Your lovely voiced called out from down the hallway as you entered.

"Heya, sugarplum! I'll be right with you, just gonna take a bath first!" He called back through he closed door. It did take a while until the tub was actually filled with warm water, so in the meantime he inspected his nude, scarred form in the mirror. He sighed to himself as he tried getting some blood off manually with his fingers, but to no avail. It would be difficult to clean up some spots, for sure. Especially those splatters that ended up on his back...

Another thing he did while waiting for the bathtub to fill up was to listen in on what you were doing. From what he could still hear past the noises coming from the faucet and your neighbors, apparently you were eating dinner. Presumably leftovers from the fridge as he did not recall you cooking anything earlier that day.

Once the tub was full, he turned off the faucet, then climbed inside and began to clean himself up. Macaque started off by washing all his fur on and around his head, at least that was easy to do. There wasn't even all that much blood stuck in there in the first place... Well, except for maybe the front.

He was so busy rubbing the blood off his arms that he didn't hear you walking towards the bathroom. At least until you lightly knocked on the door, pulling him back into reality.

"May I come in? I need a dry towel for the kitchen", you asked. Your husband told you that you may enter, so you did.

It was far from the first time you saw him without clothes, so it wasn't exactly awkward when you came in and picked one of the thinner towels. After choosing a fitting one, your eyes glanced over at the dark-furred simian. Honestly, he was already handsome by default. Him without a shirt was even better. But his wet, shiny fur glistening in the light of the bathroom made him look a lot more appealing on top of it all.

Suddenly, his own gaze landed on you. He seemed a bit confused, but this little bit of confusion was quickly wiped away as his smug grin took over.

Shit. He probably heard your heartbeat increase... Curse his intense hearing!

"What's the matter, sugarplum? Like what you see~?"

You were about to respond in a flustered, passive aggressive manner... Until you noticed the amount of red that was still very much present on his fur. You paused for a second before becoming concerned. "What happened? Did you get into a fight? Is that your blood?!" You asked frantically.

Macaque's grin left just as quickly as it came. "No, no! Well... I mean yes, I did get into a fight. B- But this isn't my blood!" That statement only eased your concerns a bit.  You simply stood there in thought with the folded towel in hand... Until he seemed to try wash off some blood his back, but to no avail.

"Do you need help getting it off?" You asked as you slowly put the towel onto the sink.

He raised an eyebrow at you before waving his hand dismissively. "I wouldn't mind the company."

You hummed in amusement as you made your way over to the bathtub, getting onto your knees next to it. Macaque handed you the bottle of shampoo and you put a portion of it onto your hand, putting the bottle next to you on the ground. You then scooped up a bit of water with your other hand and mixed both liquids together. Afterwards your hands were free to roam around your husband's back, trying to get rid of the red colors and the faint stench...

Honestly, you couldn't tell if it was just the blood because his fur seemed to stink on its own.

Suddenly, the dark-furred simian started to purr as you started gently cleaning blood around his tail. You actually had a somewhat hard time cleaning it... Macaque's joy over you handling his tail so gently only made it move around more. That in of itself wouldn't have been much of a problem, but we have to take his extra strength into consideration. He may be holding back by a lot, but his tail was still able to casually pick you up if he wanted to. So trying to keep it still enough to properly get rid of stains was a challenge.

You grinned at his tail's excitement, "Do you want me to wash the rest of your body too or what?"

The shadow monkey halted before fake-thinking with a hum. "Only if you get in here with me."

You gave him a blank look for a few seconds. Macaque thought this suggestion was a bit too much for you today. You barely got off work after all. Thus he was about to apologize... until he heard you take off your own clothes.

He paused as his tail's tip flicked back above the water in anticipation. His head whipped to the side to see you put your clothes onto his own pile or dirty clothes. With your body now in the nude, you approached the bathtub before demanding him to scoot over so you could sit behind him. You then positioned yourself so he was sitting between your legs, practically having been captured so he could never escape. (He wouldn't have minded to be honest.)

And without another word, you proceeded to continue washing him. Mainly his back and sides due to his fur's locations, but you occasionally would brush over part of his chest. Most of his fur in the back wasn't even bloody, but it was still nice to help clean him. At one point his tail wrapped around your waist as he leaned back into your hold, purring while slightly rubbing himself against you. You cooed at him being adorable and tried countering him by pushing your body firmly against his, trying to reach at least part of his legs better.

However, the moment you got to his hips towards his abdomen, he chuckled. "Not low enough, sugarplum~"

You rolled your eyes at his words with a flustered smile, "Mac-Mac, you can clean that area yourself. I can barely even clean your legs from here." He pouted as his head turned to face you, just so you could see his disappointment. You grinned at him in return.

"Do I at least get a reward for cleaning up the rest myself?" He asked with a knowing smirk as his gaze lowered towards your body below the water. That cheeky little bastard... You raised an eyebrow at the monkey's suggestion. The fact that his tail seemed to slowly make its way towards your thigh didn't help the situation.

You sighed in defeat as you nuzzled into your husband's furry back. "Okay fine. But, only one round, got it? I still have work tomorrow, and you know how much our stamina differs."

Macaque chuckled, using his hands to position your arms around his torso, your hands against his chest. "I can't promise anything, sugarplum~" He swiftly turned around more until he was able to give you a quick kiss on the lips, his hands holding your head for better access. "I love you."

In return, you leaned in as well for a kiss that would last a little longer. "I love you too..."

"Well, guess I better get to cleaning now, just so we have more time for my reward~", he said in his low voice as he pulled away. It didn't take long for Macaque to completely clean himself, especially with this new motivation literally sitting behind him with a flushed, yet amused look.

Maybe you should offer him this type of reward for doing house chores, just to motivate him into actually doing those more often.

> Masterlist <

[cybrsan]

Three Hearts As One | C.S, J.WY

AO3 Link | Masterlist

Summary: It had been a good day. That should have been the first warning sign that something was about to go horribly wrong. After all, how much peace can you expect in an apocalypse?

Pairing: Choi San x F!Reader x Jung Wooyoung

Genre: Zombie apocalypse AU, angst

Word Count: 2k

Warning(s): Major character death (so sorry)

A/N: Despite being short and sad, this is one of my personal favorites! Based on a dream I had that was way too realistic and also Wooyoung saying that if a zombie apocalypse happened and San turned into a zombie, he would want San to bite him because that would be less upsetting than being on his own.

It had been a good day. The traps you had set the night before were filled with game, and you had full stomachs for the first time in forever. Wooyoung’s ankle was finally feeling better after he twisted it running from a horde a few weeks ago. San even found a creek that ran off into the most beautiful lake, and the three of you bathed and played around in it for hours. Things almost felt normal, as if you were just three people in love on a beautiful summer day, enjoying each other’s company.

That should have been the first warning sign that something was about to go horribly wrong. After all, how much peace can you expect in an apocalypse?

You stare at the bite with wide eyes, blood turning to ice in your veins. This can’t be happening—not to one of you, not after you have made it this far. You’re three days away from what is supposedly the safest compound in the nation, armed with soldiers and doctors working towards a cure. A cure! But that won’t help you now. Not when it only takes a few hours to turn. Despite the freshness of the wound, it’s obvious the infection has already begun to spread. San’s skin is marred with greenish-purple bruising, and black veins pulsate around the outside of the bite, pumping the toxin further into his bloodstream.

The swarm came out of nowhere, ambushing the three of you in a pharmacy where you were looking for supplies. One of you—you can’t even remember who at this point, it doesn’t matter—opened a door that set off an alarm. It didn’t take more than a minute for your good day to become hell on earth. You tried to get out the same way you got in, but the runners had already blocked it off. You had no choice but to try to climb up one of the pharmacy shelves and squeeze out through a window. San made sure that you and Wooyoung went first, taking care of you the way he always does, and that’s when it happened.

He didn’t even notice at first, too focused on trying to get everyone to safety, too much adrenaline pumping in his veins. The bite shouldn’t have been able to reach his skin, but the duct tape he had wrapped around his forearms was too old and worn; you had been looking for a new roll for weeks and couldn’t find one. You’re not sure how long it took, but eventually, you made it to a house that was strongly barricaded, and the horde lost track of you. After checking the house for threats—whether that be other zombies or hostile survivors—you finally had a chance to catch your breaths.

Now, San stands frozen, cradling his arm to his chest. He hasn’t taken his eyes away from the bite since he noticed it, not even blinking, pupils blown wide. Wooyoung whimpers, looking between the two of you frantically as if hoping that one of you might magically have a solution that doesn’t involve a bullet to the brain.

You instinctively reach for your gun, and Wooyoung grabs your hand.

“No! No, you can’t.”

“Woo…”

“No! Stop it, please. He’s going to be fine.” He gives you one last stern look before moving away from you and towards San. He moves slowly, with a gentleness he only ever exudes in the most serious of situations.

Lightly stroking the side of San’s face to wake him from his daze, Wooyoung murmurs, “Darling…”

San snaps to attention, backing away from Wooyoung and pressing himself against the wall. He curls into himself, trying to make himself as small as possible. You feel as if your heart is being torn out of your chest, watching him physically try to distance himself from the both of you.

“Don’t… don’t come near me. You should both stay away from me.”

“Sannie, please, don’t be like this. You should let Y/N clean the wound, at least.”

He shakes his head. “No, don’t waste the supplies.”

“Waste…? No, stop it. You’re going to be fine; we just need to—”

“Wooyoung.” You hug him from behind, partly for his comfort but mostly for yours. You can feel his body shaking, the way he’s barely holding himself together.

“Please,” his voice trembles. “Please, I need one of you to tell me that it will all be okay. Please, please.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, wishing it was enough to block out the reality unfolding before you. San has been the glue keeping Wooyoung together since everything first started. How are you supposed to make him accept what has to happen without breaking him completely?

Despite the situation, San still manages to smile, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Baby, it’s okay.”

“What? No, it’s not. Nothing is okay! We are so close! Let’s just get to the compound and they can fix you—”

Your voice is muffled against Wooyoung’s back. “We’re too far away, and we don’t even know if the cure is ready ye—“

Wooyoung jerks himself out of your hold, stepping closer to San who flinches away from him and slides further down the wall, burying his face in his knees. “Stop! Stop combatting everything I say! Do you want him to die?!”

You know he’s speaking from a place of desperation, of fear, but the words hurt you just the same. “Wooyoung, how could you even say that? Of course I don’t, I love him! I’m just—“

“Please stop fighting. Please.” San’s voice is weak, yet he still manages to stop the both of you in your tracks. “I don’t want my last memory of you to be… to be something so angry.”

Wooyoung looks at San and his gaze immediately softens. “This will not be your last memory. There has to be another option, we are not killing you!”

“I’m already dead, baby.”

Both you and Wooyoung freeze, the fight completely draining out of you. Those four words break whatever resolve Wooyoung had left, and he lets out a heart-wrenching sob. He stumbles over to San, and this time San lets him approach, looking at him with sad eyes. He doesn’t resist as Wooyoung forces himself half onto his lap—all he does is make sure his injured arm is hidden safely behind his back so that there is no risk of contamination.

Through tears, Wooyoung asks, “What if… what if we just let it happen? We just let him turn, and he can turn us, and we can all stay together—“

San stops him short. “Wooyoung, no. I won’t become one of those things. I won’t lose my humanity, and I won’t hurt you. Either of you.” He meets your gaze over Wooyoung’s head, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I need the both of you to survive. You deserve to make it. To finally live safely, happy, and free of worry.”

You let out a shuddering breath. “You deserve that too, Sannie, as much as either of us. It’s the three of us against the world, remember?”

“Three hearts as one,” Wooyoung whispers.

“My heart will always be yours. That won’t change, even when I’m gone.”

Wooyoung grabs the hem of San’s shirt, crumpling the fabric in his fist. He holds onto it so tightly his knuckles turn white, as if he’s lost at sea and it’s his only lifeline. He opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out except choked sobs, his chest heaving with panicked breaths. San pulls him close, burying his head into his chest and placing a kiss on his temple.

You finally break down and move to join them, slotting yourself against San’s opposite side and throwing one of your arms around Wooyoung. San looks at you with adoring eyes, a tear finally escaping. You reach up and brush it away with your free hand before leaning forward to kiss him for what may very well be the last time. However, he turns his head, so your lips hit his cheek instead. For a moment, you’re heartbroken, but San quickly notices the hurt clouding your expression and explains.

“You can get infected through bodily fluids. There’s no way of knowing if—” his voice cracks, and he clears his throat, but he can no longer stop himself from crying. “We can’t risk it, as much as I want to. God, do I want to.”

A few moments pass in silence as the three of you cry together in a heap on the floor, your bodies touching wherever they can. It is so hard to accept that this is the last time you will feel each other like this, the last time you will feel the warmth of San’s body and the steady beating of his heart. You’ve been together since the start, falling more deeply in love with every passing day. Luckily, you and Wooyoung will still have one another, but neither of you will ever be whole again.

Wooyoung finally speaks again, words muffled against San’s chest. “You can’t leave, please… you always take care of us.”

San laughs through his tears. “You have taken care of me too, you know. You will be okay without me. Both of you will.”

San’s laughter turns into coughing, and he pushes the both of you away, covering his mouth with his elbow. You quickly stand, pulling Wooyoung up with you and farther away. Surprisingly, he doesn’t resist. When San moves his arm, his sleeve is dotted with blood. He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath before pulling out his gun. He empties the barrel, except for one singular bullet, and rolls the rest towards you.

“Take them; they’re the same ones that you use.”

You reach down to pick them up, but your hands shake so much that it takes you a couple of tries. Wooyoung begins to pace behind you, repeatedly muttering, “no, no, no,” under his breath.

“I want you both to leave me here, okay? Neither of you has to see this.”

“No, absolutely not.” You speak firmly, with no room for argument. “You will not die alone. I won’t let that happen. I’ll take Woo to another room and—”

“No!” Wooyoung yells. You and San shoot him a look, the both of you still worried about potential lurkers outside despite the situation. Wooyoung quiets his voice and continues, “I will not leave. We are in this together, just like everything else so far. And I’m not… I won’t let you do it yourself, are you kidding me?”

San’s eyes widen. “No, I can’t ask you to do that.”

You crouch in front of him, caress his face, and tell him, “You don’t always have to be strong, you know?” He instinctively nuzzles into your hand, just like he always does, before backing away from you and your touch.

“I…” He looks at both of you and, for the first time, he lets the fear show itself on his face. “Okay. Please stay. Please don’t leave me alone.”

“Never, my love. Never.” You kiss his forehead before taking the gun from his hand and backing away.

Wooyoung mimics you and places a lingering kiss on San’s forehead, murmuring a soft, “I love you,” and joining you at your side.

“I love you too, baby. I love you both with everything I have, until the end of time.” He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and then nods. “I’m ready.”

You raise the gun, shaking so badly you can barely hold it steady. Wooyoung comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you, giving you the support you need to straighten your aim. He buries his head into your neck and you can feel tears against your skin. You make eye contact with San over the barrel and he is looking at you with nothing but adoration and love, just like always.

“I love you so much.”

He smiles and mouths, “I love you more.”

And then you pull the trigger.

[thenightfolknetwork]

My house is haunted.

That's not the problem, I don't mind the occasional ghost in the window and I've never liked the idea of spending so much time alone at home, so there's always the company of knowing that something is sleeping in the attic, right above me every night.

It's comforting, really, but I have a problem.

Of the many people who died here, there is one in particular. She drowned in the bathtub and, despite being able to move around the house, she always manifests herself when I decide to have a relaxing bath.

Which is embarrassing, to say the least and I find very disrespectful to my privacy. I tried to explain the situation to her, but she didn't seem to understand why it bothered me so much for her to appear while I'm naked, in the middle of soaping.

Suggestions?

(I don't intend to consider exorcism. It's against my religion.)

I'm very pleased to hear you aren't considering an exorcism, reader. Even setting aside the various religious prohibitions against the practice, non-consensual phasmic relocation is never an acceptable solution, and it is a damning indictment of the state of liminal liberation in this part of the world that it remains legal in England and Wales.

To your specific concern, I'm afraid you are fighting a losing battle if you hope to get your ethereal housemate to really understand why her presence during your baths unnerves you.

It is often difficult for non-corporeal people to apprecaite the particular concerns of embodied people, especially if those concerns are not directly related to immediate physical safety.

The longer a person is incorporeal, the less pressing these matters feel - and this is without even touching upon how varied cultural expecations are around nudity and privacy, even among the embodied.

Rather than trying to convince your housemate of why her presence is upsetting, concentrate on the simple fact that it is, and that you have the right not to be routinely and unnecessarily upset in your own home. She need not understand your boundaries to respect them, after all.

You might also explore why she feels drawn to manifest during your baths, and whether there is some other way you could help her to meet those needs.

She might be content with you running the bath for her once a week without actually getting in, for example. Or you might set time aside to listen to her discuss what happened to her, bearing witness to what happened to her in a rather less literal manner.

There is a chance she will be either unable or unwilling to respect these boundaries, however. The impulses and compulsions experienced by the vitally challenged can be profoundly powerful, and the gratification of these impulses altogether too satisfying to resist.

If negotiation and compromise are not sufficient, there is nothing wrong with taking more practical measures to protect your privacy. Natural rosemary bath oil or a sage candle will create a temporary, localised barrier against any unwanted phasmic guests, and are no more harmful or offensive than placing a sturdy lock on the bathroom door.

[For more creaturely advice, check out Monstrous Agonies on your podcast platform of choice, or visit monstrousproductions.org for more info]

[smutlord-supreme]

What would the COD MWII men do if they found out you had a stalker

[A little self indulgent peice since I had a scare last night. Getting stalked in like my specialty so let me know if you want a full length peice 🤪]

SFW short peice, COD men x GN! Reader, mostly platonic but can be read as romantic too.

Cw: Stalking

Price

-Price would be on top of it. Replacing locks, installing cameras anything to make you feel safe.

-He would make an effort to spend time with you more often, pick you up from work, drop you off ect. And when he couldn't he would try to get freinds to stay with you so you didn't have to be alone

-He would want you to call the cops and report it but he wouldn't be pushy if it makes you uncomfortable.

-If he actually met your stalker he'd let them know, in no uncertain terms, that if they continued they would never walk again.

Graves

-Graves would probably get violent the fastest of anyone on this list. He seems possessive so anyone threatening 'his girl/boy/partner' would be a no go.

-He would push you to report it to the cops and I don't think he'd take no as an answer.

-He'd also want you to call off of work while he did some 'investigation' of his own.

-He might even come home with a German Shepard puppy so that you can have a 'guard dog' which would end up being spoiled

Ghost

-I thinking Ghost would be the most analytical of the group. Which may make you think he's just brushing it off at first, when he's really just thinking up solutions.

-You already have a guard dog so he sets out and buys motion activated flood lights and trail cameras.

-He'd make sure you didn't have to do anything, he'd call your boss, change your number, call the cops if you wanted. All so you don't have to worry.

-The day after telling him you'd wake up to a pantry stocked with your favorite treats (which Gaz delivered so that Ghost wouldn't have to leave you).

Soap

-Soap would freak out at first, he'd ask you a million questions and probably make you panic before apologizing.

-He'd run you and bath and call either Ghost or Price to ask for advice.

-After you're done the both of you would go to the hardware store and booby trap the house, Home Alone style. Which would make you laugh.

-He would also set real safety measures in place, Window locks, Cameras, Alert system you name it.

-He would spend every moment distracting you while the problem got fixed.

Gaz

-Normally silly Gaz would become very silent when you told him. Quietly anger radiating off of him.

-I headcannon Gaz as having had bad anger issues as a kid which he got under control as he got older.

-Gaz would get up and put you in the shower while he made phone calls. Putting on your comfort show when you got out and sitting on the couch with you, rubbing your shoulder absent-mindedly.

-There would be a knock at the door and it would be one of his old police buddies. Gaz would apologize because he knew it would be hard to tell what happened, but it was important to get this guy caught.

-He'd stay home with you when he could and using his connections he would do whatever he could to get you an escort when he wasn't.

-When whoever was stalking you got caught he would roast the shit out of what they looked like (petty I know) making you laugh.

Alejandro

-Alejandro would be very vocal almost immediately, comforting and coddling you before setting off to fix the problem.

-He would round up Rudy and go find the person himself. Verbally (and maybe just a little physically) threatening them.

-He'd get back to comforting you as fast as possible though. Assuring you that you're safe and no one could harm you.

-He'd be more protective, almost overbearing for a week or two. He doesn't want this to ever happen again

-Depending on how bad it was he might adopt a little yappy dog (chihuahua, rat terrier, Yorkie, you know the type) to act as a first warning system and companion.

Rudy

-Rudy would start comforting you immediately, before making calls to freinds.

-Both Rudy and Alejandro don't trust the local police and army so it narrows down the number of people that can help. He'd probably go straight to Los Vaqueros.

-He would make you some comforting food while he waits for Intel. Sitting on the couch to eat instead of the dining table like normal.

-When the call finally came that your stalker had been captured he would go down to the base to confront them himself. Causing a nasty black eye before Alejandro pulled him off.

-Afterwards he'd teach you how to shoot. He wants you to be innocent and pure, but not at the cost of your life

[supernovafeather]

A Loving Couple

Leto Atreides x F!Reader

Summary : Leto and his wife enjoy some alone time in their quarters.

Content : fluff, slight angst (nightmare), fluff fluff fluff, sexual innuendo.

Please comment and reblog if you like it !

The moon seemed to levitate high in the skies, left unbothered by the noise of thehundreds of powerful waves that attempted to dig their way up the cliffs. Behind your chambers window, you suddenly felt tiny and insignificant as you remembered the solar system simulations you got to study years before. From there you couldn't feel the powerful wind exploding with rage and affected anything that could get stuck in its grasp from leaves to flags that were too loose in the first place, the Atreides coat of arms flying away into darkness. You narrowed your eyes, a sudden anxiety gnawing you from the inside as your wet palms played with your nightgown. One day this House would disappear, like any other one. Nothing was eternal, no ideology, no name, no civilization. Even the ones you cherished the most, as well as your memories.

"Afraid of the storm," inquired a voice behind you.

Leto had been mostly silent tonight, too tired to even try to start any meaningful conversation. This could have passed for negligence for his spouse but you knew better as you let him embrace you from behind, your gaze still glued to the sudden rain now whipping the land. The way he hold you was firm, reassuring. That was what he did best. A safe and protective soul by your side that appreciated your own safety and protective nature.

"No," you replied with a frown, "it's merely an inconvenience tonight. But I found it quite beautiful when the moonlight bathed the scenery. Now it only looks more sinister. Depressing. This time it feels as if the sun is never to be seen again."

Without much reaction to the butterfly kisses finding their favorite spot on your neck, you stared at the moon. It was magnificent. Sometimes you wished you had nothing to do with all those political affairs. Maybe being a rock floating across the solar system would make more sense but alas you got doomed by mankind's greatest and most horrifying gift : consciousness.

"I know how to distract a Lady upset by those negative thoughts," he mumbled before nibbling your ear. "Of course you do," you chuckled, "you always know. You always have a solution to everything." "I try my best. So please my Lady, how may I put an end to this melancholy of yours? If I may add… do you have any detail coming to your mind? Something we could explore together."

After a long list full of previous marital experiments as well as quite a long time spent at testing them again just to make sure you got it right, slumber found you. Then dawn found you as well and for once you were the one being awake first, in a good mood at the sight of your husband completely lost in his deep sleep. The comical view of his open mouth soon let place to a sour feeling as he closed it, his jaws clenching and his thick beard rubbing against the pillow. You knew that face too well and soon the nervous gestures of his arms muscles showed you how right you were. In silence, you extended your hand to Leto, grazing his temple gently with a sympathetic look. He exhaled sharply before jolting but still asleep he then turned his head the other way, clenched his jaws. Another jolts.

"I love you Leto. I'm here," you whispered.

Your husband calmed down and muttered something under his breath as you wiped the thin layer of sweat now forming on his forehead.

"Not fire not again," he mumbled between undecipherable words. "No there is no fire Leto, I'm here right next to you." "They said you weren't."

Some pride remained in him. He would refuse to acknowledge how damaging it had been for him to hear all the remarks about your marriage. All those insults, rumours, jokes. The sincere worries about their respected Duke about to share his life with a widow accused of being a serial widower. Leto was the love of your life and no question mark would ever appear next to those words. You fell hard for a man that chose you for an arranged marriage after thinking that life had nothing to give you anymore. Life gave you the greatest present it had to offer. And this gift needed reassurance.

"I'm here Leto I love you. I'm listening to you and answering. Everything's fine my beloved Duke." "But the fire…" he argued faintly. "There is no fire. I'm not in there. I'm here, healthy and right by your side." "They didn't burn you," he asked with a confused frown. "I'm safe "

A slight convulsion of his legs then he turned his head towards you as he could feel your hand playing with his beard. His lips looked dry so you stopped touching him to pour some fresh water in the glass waiting on the table right by your side of the bed.

"A river, love it" he mumbled.

You smiled, put the glass down the table before crawling up to Leto, a kiss placed on his forehead as you felt his mind calming down.

"A beautiful river, birds singing and your wife that loves you," you promised.

The sudden and powerful snore coming out of his mouth woke Leto up as violently as you jolted away from him and you watched the way he scratched his beard with closed eyes, his tired face translating the confusion reigning in his mind after this.

"Good morning my lovely liege, I got some water for you." "G'morning," he groaned in a cracked deep voice.

It took him a few seconds to stop looking around, a smile appearing as the nightmare left his mind slowly but for good. As your husband took long sips you kissed his cheek then his temple, grinning while doing so as you got closer to him, your hands wandering under the blanket to run down his warm thigh flesh. After he finished drinking he raised an eyebrow at you.

"How can you do it more than twice" he asked in disbelief. "I just wanted you to start a new great day with your great wife and her great care. So let's say that three might be good sometimes."

After a few seconds spent at rubbing his thigh you kissed the corner of his lips to push your corruption attempt even further.

"I love you Leto. I hope you know it. You are a wonderful husband. Not only in bed. In general." "I love you too and thank you, wonderful wife but I have the regret to inform you that sadly, this won't be possible right now," he replied with a tired face but mischievous eyes.

Not insisting anymore you still let a trail of kisses on his bare shoulder, appreciating the muscles rolling under his skin. Even when nonsexual the contact of his skin appeased you. This was his power.

"As you wish my Lord, my Duke, my liege," you whispered against his lips.

Leto kissed you deeply with a slight grin that vanished as he interrupted the kiss in an almost authoritative shift, a stern gaze examining your face.

"Why so much eagerness this morning ?" "I don't know. I want my husband to be all mine all the time these days. I love him very much after all." "I'm all yours every day, every second. After all I have other ways to show you, even when I'm tired."

The playful mood erupting on your face got replaced by one of surprise as you fell backwards. The laugh that erupted from your mouth echoed in your ears before getting silenced by a gentle kiss crowned with a smile.

- - - - -

Thank you for reading please comment and reblog if you like it !

@queen-of-elves @qrjung

[lackablazeical]

🩵🌙Usagi Miyamoto🌙🩵

Specific trigger warnings -

Abusive/toxic relationship, codependency, self harm, depression, suicidal thoughts/ideation, child abuse, disassociation, paranoia/delusional thoughts, major character death

Specific boundaries w/ this character -

Do not victim blame Usagi. (I.e, "I bet Usagi likes the attention", "why doesn't he just tell people", etc)

Do not ship Usagi with anyone.

General info -

Usagi's birthday is March 4th. He is a Pisces ♓️

Usagi's love language is Acts of Service.

Usagi is demisexual with exclusive attraction to non-women.

Usagi has PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder).

Usagi has MDD (Major Depressive Disorder).

Usagi has Agoraphobia.

Personality traits -

Usagi is quiet, withdrawn, shy, self-sacrificing, depressed, logical, responsible, pessimistic, and routine oriented.

Usagi is very quiet and withdrawn. Many of his co-workers assumed he was mute because of this. He never attends social gatherings and prefers to stay home.

Usagi is self-sacrificing, and will do anything for those he loves, even if it means sacrificing his own life or happiness.

Usagi has depression, and often feels completely empty or numb. He is not very 'active' in terms of his depression, and would rather just stay in dull routine.

Usagi is logical, able to critically think about problems and find solutions on the fly.

Usagi is incredibly responsible, wanting to fawn everyone around him and fix their problems and mistakes.

Usagi is pessimistic, never expecting the best. This can make him a bit of a pain to be around sometimes.

Important details -

His beliefs -

Usagi's element is water.

He feels connected to any type of water, but specifically rain, ponds, lakes, oceans, and puddles.

Usagi does not flavor his drinking water because of this. He also does not drink out of straws.

Usagi loves sitting in rain, and he loves being able to relax by bodies of water.

Usagi will prefer baths to showers, so he can soak in water.

Usagi prays over the first water he drinks of the day. He manages to stay well hydrated.

His dynamic with Leo -

Usagi is a victim of Leo's abuse.

Usagi hates Leo, but has been manipulated into being dependent on him. Usagi feels like he is nothing without Leo.

Usagi was originally extremely against ever being around Leo, but as time progressed, started feeling the opposite way. Usagi often doesn't know what to do with himself when Leo is not around.

Usagi often screams at, kicks, and punches Leo, often in an attempt to get him to stop what he is doing and leave Usagi alone.

Usagi needs Leo's permission for everything he does, and is terrified of somehow making Leo mad.

Usagi would never leave Leo, as he knows that would never work, and likely risk the safety of his family.

Usagi barters affection or makes up 'games' in order to get Leo to do what he wants. It's often in a desperate attempt to get Leo to actually listen to him. This only works about half the time.

When around Usagi's family, Usagi will put on a mask and fake interest (and even enjoyment) of Leo's actions as to not concern his family and risk them finding out about Leo's abuse.

Usagi will often just listen to what Leo tells him to do, as the fight is often worse. Sometimes, though, he may press back, and he gets swiftly reminded of why that is a bad idea.

His life in the Hidden City -

Usagi often worked many odd jobs at once, sometimes working up to 70-80 hour weeks. He would lie about his age to be hired, and often worked below or just barely at minimum wage.

Usagi ran into debt multiple times, because he wasn't aware of how loan sharks (or American currency) functioned. He was often tracked down because of this, but always managed to weasel out of it or evade then.

Usagi had no friends, and was known as very anti-social to anyone that even knew of his existence.

Usagi had lived in one cheap, dingy apartment the whole five years he lived there. He couldn't afford to move.

Fun facts -

Usagi's favorite food is any type of produce with salt, and his favorite drink is plain water.

Usagi self-harms.

Usagi prefers having long sleeves he can roll up, to having short sleeves.

Usagi hates being pinned on his stomach.

Usagi is a ritual cleaner, and deep cleans everything he owns fairly often.

Usagi is a good cook.

Usagi hates all sweet foods but mooncakes.

Usagi hates being touched.

Voice claim [Steven Yeun] -

Tags including Usagi -

#addams! Usagi, #addams! Leosagi, #addams! Miyamotos

[maxislvt]

will u please do a dark! or not wanda x spider reader who gets injured often and how she cares for the reader

warnings: injury, medical stuff

Being in love as an Avenger was difficult, even if your significant other wasn't one themselves. Missions were long and dangerous, some would even require no contact for weeks at a time. Training was tough and the paperwork could become overwhelming. That wasn't to say that it couldn't be done.

You and Wanda were proof that even the toughest conditions couldn't stop love from blooming. When the two of you first met, your identity was a secret. It was a complete accident that Wanda even found out who you were. She was scared for your safety at first. There wasn't a single fight you'd been in that hadn't been recorded and uploaded to the internet a thousand times. You were the Spider-Punk after all. Who wouldn't be dazzled by your super-sonic guitar and acrobatic abilities? For others, watching you fight was a spectacle.

For Wanda it was just plain scary. To her everything was a bruise, a cut, or a concussion and there was almost no comfort in your accelerated healing. Both of you had learned the difference between accelerated and right the hard way. The suggestion to have Bruce look into your crooked finger had been lighthearted, but the examination revealed just how harmful your methods of fighting were. One of your bones was so messed up you needed surgery. The cost financially was nothing to Wanda, it was the emotional part she couldn't handle.

She's become a bit overprotective of you ever sense. It was cute at first, but you couldn't stand coming home at 3am and seeing her wide awake just because she wanted to patch you and replace any bandages. Wanda had a job that was just as dangerous. You couldn't let her lose sleep because you were stupid and got whacked around a bit. That wasn't fair.

So tonight, you did it yourself.

You took a little detour to a pharmacy and bought some bandaids and tried your very best to tend to your wounds. You had definitely taken some hits that a bandaid couldn't fix, so your solution had been to just put on multiple in one area. The adhesive was stuck uncomfortably to your skin, but something was better than nothing. Just nothing wasn't good enough for Wanda.

"Oh, you're home early." Wanda gave you a gentle smile as she placed her book on the nightstand. "Come on, let me patch up. Dinner's already in the oven so we can eat after you take a bath." She reached for your shirt only for you to push her hand away.

You kissed her cheek. "I'm fine, we can just eat dinner." You tugged Wanda towards the dining room but she didn't budge. A frown appeared in your face. "I promise you I'm okay. I didn't even fight anyone today." That was a lie, but Wanda didn't like reading your mind so she wouldn't know. Well, everyone told you that you were a bad lair, but you never lied around Wanda so who would she know?

Wanda raised her eyebrows. You always cracked under the pressure of her states even if you didn't do anything wrong. Even if that didn't work, you always left behind footprints. "Alright. Just give me a hug, I really missed you." Just like that, you'd fallen for her trap. Technically it wasn't a trap because she did miss and wanted a hug. The offer just had some ulterior motives. She wrapped her arms around you tightly and kissed your forehead. "You mean the world to me, you know that?" She softened you up with honeyed words until her hands reached your back pocket. Wanda's hand pulled out a ball of paper. "Is this…are these bandaid wrappers," She asked incredulously. "Don't tell me you tried to patch yourself up with bandaids that had your little logo on it."

You sighed in defeat as you sat on the bed. Embarrassment burned bright red on your face. "Just…just get the medkit." Wanda left you to stew in your own pool of embarrassment while she got the needed tools to patch you up. You peeled off as many of the little bandages before giving up and waiting for Wanda to take them off. "Don't laugh at me…I was trying to not worry you," You grumbled.

Wanda giggled and kissed your shoulder. "Baby, I worry about you because I care about you. Spider-Punk or not." She sat behind you on the bed and started to remove the decorated bandages. Everytime she pulled one off, she kissed your cheek. Then it was followed up with a little 'I love you' or 'You're adorable'. By the time she'd wiped off the adhesive and replaced it with proper bandages, you were nothing but putty in her hands. "Is my little spider ready to shower and eat dinner?"

"That was a really bad way to convince me not to do that again, but yes."

[bellasmumblingsandmusings]

Chapter 6: On the hunt

Previously: Prologue Tumblr Link for Prologue, Chapter One; Chapter Two, Chapter 3, Interlude Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. NSFW, Ethical and non Ethical BDSM, noncon, some allusions to sexual violence, flashbacks to sexual violence, discussions of sexual violence, dubious boundaries, attempted sexual violence, dubcon, blood licking/blood kink, reference to cheating behavior, emotional trauma, group sex, sex, smutt, anxiety, negative thinking, sexual trauma, recovery, healing, angst,

Word count: 42K total

Status: Ongoing

Note: There is massive Artwork with this chapter (Manga pages) After the flashback and then later as well. Completed by the Studio of https://www.instagram.com/jonath_prac/

Song for this Chapter: RUNRUNRUN - Dutch Melrose Spotify Link

A03

Entire Story Link on AO3

Spotify Playlist

After the Jump!

Chapter 6: On the hunt

A month after the fall of the Nether Brain…

The night was tempestuous, with thunder rolling ominously across the sky. Rain descended in relentless sheets, as if the heavens themselves were intent on drowning the world below. Yet, within the sanctuary of the Palace, warmth and light prevailed. Candles flickered in every room, casting a gentle glow that warded off the storm's fury. In their bedroom, a soft, golden light bathed the space from a large skylight high above. The chittering and pitter-patter of wings jolted Sima awake, drawing her gaze to a white bat ensnared by the storm.

Startled, Sima sat up in bed, her heart aching at Astarion's absence beside her. The sight of the bat struggling against the storm stirred something within her. She glanced at the nearby window, opened it, and used a broom to try and guide the bat towards safety. It wasn't the most graceful solution, but she couldn't cast Speak with Animals while it remained out of reach. She left the window open, hoping the bat would escape the merciless downpour.

The little white bat chittered angrily, a tiny embodiment of frustration and misery. Cold, wet, and grumpy, he seemed to bristle at his predicament. Despite the open window offering freedom, he stayed put, his displeasure evident in every irate flutter.

In her short, black, lacy nightgown, Sima moved with an urgency fueled by concern. "Stubborn furball! Do you want to drown? Go to the window, you silly thing!" she exclaimed, her hair a disheveled halo around her head.

The bat responded with a rude noise, half-growl, half-squeak, its petulance almost comical. Reluctantly, it descended towards the window—not quite conceding to her, but close enough for a creature of such stubborn will. Grumbling, it crawled onto the sill.

Sima approached cautiously, her eyes softening at the sight of its drenched, matted fur. "You poor thing, you look absolutely miserable. If you promise not to bite, I'll warm you by the fire." She extended her hands tentatively.

The bat made a distressed sound of acceptance, nuzzling into her cupped palms. It refrained from biting, instead rubbing its chin and face against her hand in a gesture of unexpected affection.

Sima smiled, gently stroking its head. "Aren't you adorable? I wonder if Astarion will let me keep you. We don't have any pets yet..." She carried the bat to the fireplace, the thunder and lightning a dramatic backdrop to the tender moment. She began to unmat its fur with delicate fingers, warming it by the fire's glow.

Despite his initial annoyance, the bat seemed to relax under her touch, leaning into her grasp as the warmth seeped into his tiny body. It was a rare, comforting change after centuries of solitude.

As Sima dried him off, she marveled at his beauty—white fur and wings, piercing red eyes. She lifted him closer, her voice soft and soothing. "Scritches! Do you like scritches?" she cooed, scratching under his chin.

Stunned by the kindness, the bat found the sensation delightful, pushing his neck into her hand for more scritches and scratches. For the first time in a long while, he felt safe and happy.

Cradling him to her chest, Sima spoke softly. "Now, are you a fruit bat? No...you seem too big for one. We have plenty of blood in the palace. Are you hungry, little one? You’re so cute, even when you're hissing at me."

The bat's stomach growled in response, his hunger undeniable. He made an irritated sound, shifting in her arms, clearly wanting to be held but also needing sustenance.

"Oh, sweetheart, why are you fussing? You must be hungry. Let me cast Speak with Animals so we can chat. Would you like to be my pet?" Sima continued to pet him, her touch tender and reassuring.

The bat grunted indignantly, yet settled into her hand, a noise of acceptance escaping him. He nuzzled closer to her wrist, seeking the comfort of skin.

Sima laughed softly. "You're almost as bad as Astarion when he's hungry. Over-eager and impatient. Alright, let's see what's on your mind." She cast Speak with Animals, her voice taking on a magical resonance. "Well, little one, are you hungry? I can get you some blood from a jar. Would you be my pet?"

The bat chuckled internally at being called a pet, finding the idea amusing yet comforting. "I would be okay with this arrangement. Blood would be nice, yes. More than anything, I am hungry."

Sima's eyes widened in recognition. "Astarion?!"

The bat looked up, curiosity mingling with amusement. "I see I still possess the ability to surprise you. Yes, it's me, darling."

Sima picked him up carefully, studying his bat form with a mix of wonder and disbelief. "You never told me you could transform into a bat!"

Astarion chuckled, the sound a blend of squeaks. "No, I did not. I thought our game more interesting this way. And there is much more you do not know about me. We will enjoy discovering it together." He chittered softly, remembering her warmth. "Please, hold me to your chest again. I miss that feeling."

Sima cradled him closer, her heart swelling with a strange mix of emotions. "But you're so...cute. And small."

Astarion grumbled playfully, enjoying the closeness despite himself. "I prefer being a vampire lord, but this form has its charms."

Sima giggled, her fingers gently caressing his fur. "I think you're precious and I adore you even like this." She kissed his furry head, continuing to give him scritches.

Astarion squeaked contentedly, the purr-like sensation soothing his nerves. The warmth of her touch, the sound of her heartbeat, and the scent of her skin all worked to calm him.

Sima held him close, her lips brushing his fur as she offered her wrist, "I assume you can break the skin with your little fangs. Here, have a bite."

Astarion carefully broke the skin with his sharp teeth, latching onto her wrist like a hungry kitten. He drank deeply, though gently, his sharp teeth and suction surprisingly tender.

Sima giggled at the sensation, the bat fangs less painful than his usual ones. She patted and petted his head, her kisses a balm as he fed.

Astarion leaned into her hand, drinking thirstily but with care. Once sated, he pulled back, looking up at her almost shyly, a trace of blood around his mouth.

Sima laughed softly, casting a small healing spell on her wrist before kissing his furry head. "There, see? Less grumpy now?"

Astarion snuggled into her chest, a smile playing on his lips as she petted his fur. Her hands were soft and comforting, a sensation he cherished. He leaned in for another kiss, nuzzling her chest, the rhythm of her heartbeat a soothing lullaby.

Sima whispered into his fur, "I miss your usual form. Would you mind changing back and cuddling me?"

Astarion grumbled playfully, shifting to face her more fully, a smile lighting his eyes. Of course, he didn’t mind. What sort of High Vampire Lord would he be if he didn’t want to cuddle with his beloved sorceress?

He transformed back into his elf-like form, wrapping his arms around her. The familiar sensation of his skin against hers was a comfort, his contented noises a testament to his relaxation.

Sima kissed him deeply, her hands threading through his curls as she gazed into his crimson eyes. "Any other secrets you're keeping from me?"

Astarion smiled, his eyes twinkling with hidden knowledge. "Never anything that would harm you." His breath caught, his love for her palpable.

Sima laughed softly. "Don't be silly. You've only just Ascended; you're still learning. And I know...you would never hurt me, my love." She kissed him deeply, their embrace a sanctuary against the storm outside.

Astarion returned her kiss, soft and lingering. But a year from now, there would be no kisses, no tender embraces in the night. Only the cold, unyielding darkness.

(continued after the artwork)

***

Sima bolted through the Upper City, her leathers sticking to her sweat-slicked skin as she sprinted, her heart a relentless drum in her chest. Each step sent jolts of agony through her feet, as if she were running on shards of glass, her muscles aflame with exertion. She didn't dare look back; the terror of Astarion's pursuit coiled around her like a noose, squeezing the breath from her lungs. She had to escape. He could never claim her again.

Astarion's eyes narrowed to slits as he saw her silhouette darting through the Upper City. A cold, consuming fury churned within him, his jaw tightening until his teeth threatened to crack. His hands curled into claws of rage. He calculated his next move—vanishing into invisibility to stalk her or unleashing his network of spies. But she was swift, and he couldn't let her slip through his fingers again. Decision made, he surged forward, predatory intent gleaming in his eyes. She was his. He would not be denied.

He let out a guttural call, summoning his wolves. They slunk from the shadows of the surrounding forests like living nightmares, their eyes glowing with a ravenous hunger. The air thrummed with dark energy, a testament to his unyielding will. His lips twisted into a sinister smile as the beasts bounded forward, their howls reverberating through the night. She could run, but she couldn't hide. She was his.

Sima weaved through the manicured gardens and opulent streets of the Upper City. Rain-slicked cobblestones glistened under the lamplight, threatening to betray her footing. Her breath tore from her in ragged gasps, each one a desperate plea for survival. The sprawling vista of the Lower City and the distant harbor beckoned, a fragile promise of safety. Narrow alleys and side streets tempted her with false refuge, but she couldn't afford to get lost. Desperation fueled her frantic pace. She stole a glance back, her heart thundering against her ribs. Astarion was relentless; he would never stop.

I loved him, but now he’s a monster. How did it come to this? Each thought was a fresh wound, slicing through her mind as fast as her feet pounded the ground.

Astarion’s face contorted with cold rage as he pursued her. His movements were precise, predatory. Her frenzied escape might grant her a fleeting lead, but he knew he would catch her before she reached the Lower City. She was his, and he would claim her, no matter the cost.

The Upper City blurred around Sima, its grand facades and manicured gardens dissolving into a nightmare haze. The night air bit at her skin, mingling with the scent of rain and earth. Her breath hitched as she invoked her magic. She cast Fly, launching herself into the air, her body lifting away from the peril below. Astarion's pace did not falter. He couldn't match her magic, but his unnatural speed was terrifying. He leapt from rooftop to rooftop in pursuit, his eyes locked on her. She dared to hope for escape, but she was wrong.

He ground his teeth, his gaze tracking her retreating form. Every determined stride she took fueled his anger, yet a grudging admiration flickered within him for her fierce defiance.

As she neared the Lower City, he unleashed his wolves. The beasts erupted from their hiding places, eyes ablaze with predatory intent, their howls piercing the night air. She was his prey, and he would capture her.

I can't let him win. Not again, she vowed, the weight of past failures pressing down on her. Her hands trembled as she cast Mage Armor, the protective magic enveloping her like a second skin.

Sima hurtled forward, her feet barely skimming the rooftops. Below, the wolves' baying echoed ominously. She couldn't afford to slow down. Her heart raced as the city gates loomed ahead, tantalizingly close yet achingly distant.

Astarion directed the wolves with ruthless precision, attempting to corral her. The beasts, tireless and sharp-eyed, were closing in. He smiled, a dark, predatory grin. She was running out of options, and he was closing in.

With a snarl, Sima conjured a 7th level Fireball, hurling it at the wolves. The explosion tore through the night, scattering flaming bodies in all directions. Blood and charred fur splattered across the cobblestones, but she didn't stop. She was so close to the gate. She couldn't let him win.

She will pay for this defiance, Astarion seethed, his rage simmering just beneath the surface.

Astarion's expression twisted with dark anger as he watched his wolves burn. He summoned the bats next, a living tide of blackness that swarmed from the sky. Their screeches filled the air, their bodies blotting out the moonlight. Even as the fireball struck them, they kept coming. She would not escape.

Sima cursed as she saw the bats envelop the sky. She cast Fly once more, aiming for the rooftop of Sorcerous Sundries in the Lower City. She needed to reach the Selunite Enclave and Shadowheart. The bats' screeches grew louder, closing in around her. She had to make it. Shadowheart would protect her.

Astarion's irritation mounted with each passing second. He couldn't allow her to escape. He dissolved into mist, an ephemeral shadow in the night, and surged after her. The bats swirled around him, obedient to his will. He was within striking distance, the hunt nearing its end. She couldn't hide from him.

Why must you run from me, Sima? His frustration gnawed at him, each moment of her defiance stoking his fury.

In desperation, Sima twisted the ring on her finger, releasing Radiance of the Dawn, a gift from Shadowheart. A sphere of radiant magic burst forth, searing the darkness with holy light. The bats shrieked in agony, their bodies incinerated by the divine brilliance. The light was blinding, transforming night into day.

Astarion snarled, pain ripping through him as the light seared his senses. Each pulse of radiance was a dagger of fire in his veins. His control over the beasts shattered, and he reformed from the mist, his rage now a living thing. She would pay for this. The pain was excruciating, a testament to her defiance.

You won't win, Astarion. I won't let you, she vowed, her determination blazing bright within her.

Sima's scream pierced the air as she crossed into the Selunite Enclave, her voice a desperate cry for shelter. "Sanctuary! Sanctuary! Shadowheart!!"

Astarion skidded to a halt at the boundary of the enclave, his eyes blazing with unquenched rage. The holy ground barred his entry, an invisible force that repelled his dark presence. His breath came in hissing growls, and his fists clenched so tightly that his nails drew blood. She had slipped through his grasp, but this was only a temporary setback. He glared at the sanctuary that now shielded her, his mind already plotting. Shadowheart's protection was a flimsy shield, and he knew Sima would have to emerge eventually. The hunt was far from over. She could run, she could hide, but he would find her. She couldn’t escape him forever.

Sima stumbled through the hallowed grounds of the Selunite graveyard, the consecrated earth offering a fleeting sense of security. The graves of devoted Selunites stood as silent guardians, their presence comforting yet solemn. She could feel Astarion’s predatory aura pressing behind her, a relentless force that threatened to pierce the sanctuary she sought. Her breath was labored from the harrowing escape, every step echoing her desperation.

How did everything go so wrong? Sima's mind raced, each memory a dagger twisting in her heart.

The Selunite Enclave stood as a beacon of sanctuary in Baldur's Gate, its sacred grounds just beyond the walls of the Lower City. Banners depicting Selûne, the Moonmaiden, adorned the outer walls, showing her serene figure watching over a tranquil lake. Inside, the scent of burning incense mingled with the softened light filtering through curtains and large, western-facing windows. Potted plants and soft-backed chairs invited peaceful reflection and worship.

The holy site exuded a calming aura, a haven from the relentless pursuit that felt like dark waves crashing against a solitary beacon. The temple was a sanctuary, its protective glow piercing through the storm of her fear. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, she felt a glimmer of safety. She knew it was fleeting, but the momentary peace was a balm to her frayed nerves. She pushed open the door to the temple, her movements heavy with exhaustion.

"Shadowheart!" Sima's scream echoed through the sanctum, a desperate plea that reverberated off the sacred walls like a prayer for salvation. Her strength spent, she collapsed to her knees by the door, her body trembling from the rapid spellcasting and the frantic chase. It felt as though the last of her reserves had been drained, leaving her a hollow vessel of fatigue and fear.

Shadowheart rushed over, her eyes wide with concern as she supported Sima. "Gods above, Sima! You ran all the way from Baldur's Gate? What in the Nine Hells happened?" she exclaimed, her voice thick with shock and worry.

The Enclave's sanctity wrapped around Sima like a protective cloak, shielding her from the encroaching darkness. The divine aura of Selûne's temple was a beacon of hope, offering a momentary refuge. Shadowheart, sensing the urgency and fear in Sima's voice, felt the divine protection of Selûne bolstering her resolve. Sima clung to her desperately, her voice a frantic whisper. "He lied! I agreed to stay by force! He wants to turn me! Please! I need sanctuary!" she pleaded, her voice quivering with desperation.

Shadowheart led her deeper into the temple, guiding her to one of the more private prayer chambers. "Relax, dear. You're safe within this space, under the divine protection of our fair goddess. No one can touch you while you remain here. I swear this on the name of Selûne herself," she assured, her tone firm and resolute.

The temple, simple yet pure, was constructed in an octagon shape, with smooth, white-tiled floors and altars adorned with icons of Selûne. Tapestries depicting the moon's phases lined the walls, their silvery threads catching the light like whispers of celestial promise. Shadowheart guided Sima to a padded bench and knelt beside her, noting the exhaustion etched into her face.

"Gods, Astarion wanted to turn me. Please, you have to believe me. This isn't a lovers' quarrel..." Sima's voice broke, her plea hanging in the air like a fragile thread. She felt the weight of the past days pressing down on her, a relentless tide that threatened to drown her.

Shadowheart's eyes softened with understanding, yet her voice retained its edge. "I believe you. That undead bastard has no shame. No one here will doubt you. And you're already safe here, in this holy sanctuary. Let me call some of the other clerics to examine you," she said, her words a blend of empathy and determination.

Shadowheart gestured for the clerics, who had gathered, alerted by the commotion. They entered, their expressions calm and reassuring, moving like phantoms of comfort in their white robes.

"After the Wish Spell failed, he took me... and kept me locked up. Gods, he's not in control of himself, barely in fact. Even after I told him... the horrible things done to me in Calimport... Gods, Shadowheart, what am I going to do?" Sima pleaded, her voice breaking under the weight of her despair.

"Shh, shh. It's all right," Shadowheart comforted her, a hand resting gently on Sima's shoulder. A cleric with a soft, kindly face leaned down, checking Sima's injuries with practiced hands. "He can't harm you now. The gods of the good-hearted guide you," she said softly, her tone a soothing balm.

"He hasn't bitten me, I swear it... he did throw me around though... broke my ribs... but tended to it afterwards... it's mostly the... leering and..." Sima's voice cracked, her body curling in on itself as she realized how fortunate she was to have escaped with only those injuries.

I can't believe I survived this, Sima thought, the pain in her ribs a constant reminder of her ordeal. Each breath was a struggle, but she was alive, and that meant there was still hope.

"Shh, now. It's all right, we believe you," Shadowheart assured her.

A second cleric with dark hair approached, examining her ribs and bruises. "Broken ribs, multiple bruises, cuts, and contusions. No bite wounds. This confirms what you said. The bruises appear to have been caused by blunt force rather than teeth or claws," he stated, his voice steady and calm.

The clerics exchanged hushed words, discussing Sima's injuries with professional calm. Shadowheart's gaze remained on Sima, her expression one of understanding and sympathy. The sanctuary of the Selunite Enclave enveloped them, a brief respite from the horrors outside.

"You can't cast a shadow without some light, Sima," Shadowheart said softly, her voice carrying a note of hope. "No one can touch you here. Rest now, and we'll figure this out together," she added, her tone gentle yet firm.

Sima nodded, feeling a small measure of comfort from Shadowheart's familiar words. The moonlight filtering through the temple's windows cast gentle shadows, a reminder that even in darkness, there was a glimmer of light. The warmth of the temple began to thaw the icy grip of fear that had held her captive, allowing her to breathe a little easier.

Shadowheart watched Sima’s examination, her eyes narrowing as she processed the situation. The room was filled with soft candlelight, casting gentle shadows on the walls adorned with tapestries depicting the phases of the moon. Potted plants added a touch of life to the serene environment, and the air carried the faint scent of incense, creating an atmosphere of calm and reflection. Other Selunite clerics moved quietly around the temple, their robes rustling softly as they attended to their duties, casting concerned glances towards Sima. This place, with its serenity and sanctity, was a beacon of hope in her darkness, and for the first time in days, she allowed herself to believe that she might be safe.

"So, this leering and implied violence... We've seen it before with those older vampire bastards," Shadowheart began, her tone cutting. "They became obsessed, fixated, thinking it's some twisted game of courtly love. They couldn't see the line between obsession and true romantic love—either because they were delusional or just plain cruel. Had you spoken with Astarion directly, or had he been more... subtle?"

"I told him... I was raped in Calimport. Six months ago. I hoped that would make him stop. He hadn't touched me, but Gods above, it was like he was always there, always watching. He was different once." Sima looked to Shadowheart, her voice trembling with the weight of her confession. She hadn't shared what happened in Calimport before, the shame too overwhelming. The soft murmurs of prayer and the rustle of robes from the other clerics provided a comforting backdrop, but the tension in the air was palpable.

Shadowheart’s eyes widened slightly, a storm of shock and anger flashing across her face. She placed a comforting hand on Sima's shoulder, squeezing gently. "Gods below, Sima, why didn't you tell me sooner? I knew something terrible had happened, but... not this," she said, her voice softening, yet edged with barely contained fury at the thought of what Sima had endured both before and after Astarion’s pursuit.

Sima took an unsteady breath, her mind swirling with the weight of her confession. She rallied in the moment to focus on the danger lurking outside the Enclave. "Astarion barely controlled himself. He watched me all hours of the day. I was held for two days. He gave me a brief moment of tenderness when I told him about my rape," she explained, her voice trembling.

"Curious, showing empathy yet willing to inflict pain himself. He likely saw his actions as different, in some misguided way. Did you think he was conflicted?" Shadowheart's voice carried a mix of curiosity and disdain, reflecting her complicated feelings towards Astarion.

"I think he was just as fucking lost as I was. I loved the man he was... Sometimes I saw him, but then I felt his leering, his desire to just take me. It was terrifying," Sima admitted, her eyes filling with tears.

Shadowheart's expression softened, her anger giving way to a rare hint of sympathy for the vampire. "Ah, the desire to take—that's the beast within. He probably hated that urge but couldn't control it. This conflict might have been tearing him apart. It doesn't excuse his actions, but there might have been more to this than met the eye," she said thoughtfully.

Sima's tears spilled over, her breath shuddering with the effort to keep her composure. She held Shadowheart's hands tightly, her voice desperate. "I just wanted to be safe. I'll find a ship to Amn and never come back. Could I stay here?" she pleaded, her eyes wide with hope and fear.

Shadowheart looked at Sima, seeing the raw vulnerability and fear etched into her features. She nodded firmly. "You may. I'll set you up in one of the bedrooms with some comforts," she replied, her voice resolute. She gestured to one of the private prayer chambers, its walls lined with soft cushions and icons of Selûne providing a serene space for reflection.

Sima looked around at the clerics and priestesses, her plea desperate. "Please, if he comes for me, you have to protect me," she implored, her voice cracking with desperation.

The clerics and priestesses nodded, some hesitantly. They knew of Astarion, aware he wasn't human, but they were sworn to protect anyone in distress. The atmosphere was heavy with the weight of their unspoken vows, their expressions a mix of concern and determination.

Sima turned her gaze to Shadowheart, her gratitude evident. "And you? If it wasn't for the Dawn ring you gave me a year ago, he would have had me just now... Would you help me?" she asked, her voice trembling with emotion.

Shadowheart nodded, determination hardening her features. "Of course I would. You're my friend, and I wouldn't let you be taken. But I need your help. If we face combat, I would need you to trust me and fight alongside me. Promise?" she asked, her voice steady and commanding.

"Yes! I didn't want to be forcibly turned! Despite everything, Astarion couldn't have my life. That was mine," Sima declared, her voice fierce with defiance.

"Good. You'd stay here until we could get you out. But if the time came, you wouldn't flee, right? You'd fight with me?" Shadowheart asked, her eyes searching Sima's for confirmation.

"Yes. But we need to figure out how to get me out of the city first. Smuggle me out—Astarion's spies are everywhere," Sima responded, her voice firm despite the fear gnawing at her heart.

Shadowheart nodded thoughtfully. "Getting you out won't be easy. The city is crawling with his spies. Any attempt to leave would draw his attention."

She paused, considering their options. "We could try to smuggle you out while his attention is elsewhere. But it's risky. Are you sure this is the path you want?"

"Yes, get me the Hells out of here. Sorry for the profanity," Sima replied, her voice resolute, but her hands shook slightly, betraying her fear.

Shadowheart smirked. "No harm done. The Hells wouldn't mind. Astarion has committed far worse sins than some light swearing. There are hidden exits we can use, and moving during a moonless night might help. But it's still dangerous. Perhaps a sea voyage? We could hide you on a ship to Waterdeep, then east to Amn. It’s risky, but it might be your best chance. What do you think?"

Sima felt a flicker of hope, gripping Shadowheart's hands tighter. "Let's do it. I'll do whatever it takes," she replied, her voice filled with determination.

Under the veil of nightfall, Sima and Shadowheart set their plans into motion, opting for secrecy as their greatest ally. With a cadre of Shadowheart's most formidable female clerics and fighters by their side, they moved with purpose and determination through the shadowed streets of Baldur's Gate.

Each step was calculated, each movement deliberate as they navigated the labyrinthine alleys and narrow passages, avoiding the prying eyes of those who might seek to thwart their escape. The darkness provided cover, shrouding their movements in a cloak of secrecy as they made their way towards the port where their vessel awaited.

Shadowheart's companions moved with silent efficiency, their presence a reassuring reminder of the strength and solidarity that bolstered their resolve. These were women of unwavering courage and faith, ready to stand against any threat that dared to challenge their mission.

As they neared the port, the air crackled with tension, the anticipation of their departure mingling with the palpable sense of danger that hung heavy in the night air. Yet, despite the risks that loomed ahead, there was a quiet determination in their hearts, a steadfast resolve to see their plan through to fruition.

***

Beyond the sanctified borders of the Selunite Enclave, Astarion seethed with rage, not only at his failure to capture Sima but also at his inability to control the radiant power that had assailed him. His heart burned with a vicious fire, a tempest swirling within his chest. Every beat of his undead heart echoed with relentless determination; he would not be denied. When he found her, he vowed to make her suffer for her defiance, showing her no mercy or forgiveness. She would pay dearly for daring to escape his grasp.

With a deep, menacing scowl etched upon his face, Astarion's crimson eyes glinted with dark hatred. It was a rare sensation for him, this feeling of being denied, particularly by a mere mortal. Yet, there was something about Sima that set her apart, something that made her elusive, agile, and unexpectedly resilient. The simmering rage within him threatened to erupt like a volcano as he weighed his options. Should he return to the palace and await her return? No, that would be far too predictable. He needed a more cunning approach, a method to ensnare her and wrench her from the safety of the herd.

A cruel, predatory grin crept across his lips as he turned his back on the enclave, his mind already teeming with schemes and stratagems. Sima would not slip through his fingers so easily; he would ensure she paid the price for her defiance. And then, once she was his and she paid her penance, he vowed to be better to her, to be a better lover and a better... vampire lord. Then, he would never let her slip away again.

Yet, as he walked through the grand halls of the Crimson Palace, a nagging thought gnawed at him like a persistent specter. The severity of his pursuit, the way he had hunted her with unrelenting fervor—it had been brutal, even for him. He could have hurt her, perhaps even killed her in his blind rage. The memory of her terrified face, her desperate flight, began to chip away at his resolve. She was strong, yes, but she was also fragile, and he had exploited that fragility with a cruelty that mirrored the very horrors he had endured under Cazador's reign.

The ornate mirrors lining the palace walls reflected not just his image, but fragments of his fractured soul. Each step felt like a journey through a labyrinth of his own making, where every turn presented a distorted reflection of the monster he had become. The man staring back at him was a grotesque mockery of the person he once was, his face a canvas of anger and desperation.

He barely recognized himself. His hands trembled as he relived the chase, the predatory thrill intermingled with a profound sense of guilt. What if he had gone too far? What if his need to punish had overshadowed his desire to covet, to possess her in a way that was more than just domination? Astarion's life had been a relentless cycle of punishment and reward, a twisted dichotomy that Cazador had ingrained in him. He knew no other way, but that did not absolve him of the consequences of his actions.

He halted, the cruel grin dissolving from his lips as a tempest of emotions roiled within him. He had promised himself to be different, to be better. But how could he reconcile this promise with the reality of what he had done? His need for control, for dominance, had driven him to extremes. In his pursuit of Sima, he had become the very monster he despised.

With a primal roar, he unleashed his fury upon the surroundings. Drawers were ripped from cabinets, their contents scattered like leaves in a hurricane. Plates and mirrors shattered against walls and floors, their shards glittering like jagged tears. Candelabras were torn from tables, their flames extinguished in a violent cascade of destruction. Each blow, each act of vandalism, was a futile attempt to exorcise the overwhelming fury and guilt that threatened to consume him whole.

As the last vestiges of his rage ebbed away, leaving him battered and bruised, a profound sense of emptiness settled over him. He collapsed to his knees amidst the wreckage, his breath ragged and labored, his body trembling with exhaustion. Tears welled in his eyes, mingling with the blood that stained his hands, as he grappled with the depths of his despair.

"I am a fool," he whispered, his voice hollow and broken. "What have I become?"

In the ensuing silence, as the echoes of his outburst faded into the darkness, Astarion's thoughts turned inward, grappling with the weight of his actions. Guilt and shame washed over him like a relentless tide, drowning him in remorse for his callous disregard of Sima's boundaries and feelings. If only he had been more patient, more understanding, perhaps things could have been different. But now, with renewed resolve burning within him, he vowed to make amends, to be a better companion to her.

He rose slowly, each movement deliberate, as if he were lifting himself from a grave. The remnants of his fury still simmered beneath the surface, but a grim determination overshadowed them. Summoning his spy network, Astarion issued explicit commands to locate Sima wherever she may be hiding. He would not rest until she was back within his clutches, back where she belonged.

Alone in the grand entryway of the palace, Astarion awaited word of his quarry's exact whereabouts, his mind already racing ahead to the future he envisioned with Sima by his side. Together, they would rule over Baldur's Gate, a power couple feared and revered by all who dared to cross them. And when his vampire spawn reported Sima's location near the city docks, Astarion's grin widened with predatory anticipation. She might try to flee, to escape the fate he had in store for her, but he would not let her slip through his fingers again. No, this time, he would ensure she remained firmly within his grasp. For when he had satisfied the craving in his heart, she would be with him, bound to him by blood and desire.

[breadvidence]

How do you feel about the Marius/Javert ship a few people have been pitching lately (Marivert). Is the symbolism of the relationship between the police and the bourgeoise enough to make the ship work????

First, a question for you: who's been pitching lately?? what have I not been paying attention to?

& a more serious answer than you probably bargained for: I am pro all ships and actually have read two very tonally different fics that play out this pairing effectively enough. Fandom doesn't really need more than "the characters exist" to make a pairing happen, but I'd argue these two could actually work given they have an existing relationship to build on (not in the sense of "work romantically, wedding bells" but "result in a compelling story"). There's the obvious comedy potential given—well, they are who they are. However. I think Marius is overdrawn as comedic in fandom to the same degree that Javert's comedy is undersold, and you could do some interesting very earnest stuff playing off Marius' desire to be masculine, violent, dignified, etc., and the ways Javert sneers at that—maybe some agegap queer mentorship shit complicated by the fact that, ultimately, Javert as the police serves/surveils Marius as the bourgeois.

May I propose an unrelated absurdly serious fic, also:

Javert's suicide is diverted, & he goes full 19th c style lunatic over it & is institutionalized (I would have to do a disagreeable amount of research about how very-barely-socially-respectable insane people were managed at the time). In searching for solutions to the mysteries surrounding the barricade, Marius finds him, and he feels obligated to recover him from the squalid hospital conditions. There's some very tender-gross assistance with bathing, maybe lice. I feel like this is a great premise in which to deploy questionably realistic selective mutism as Javert struggles with the question of whether it is morally correct to clarify his history with Valjean. When Valjean shows up, he gaslight girlboss gatekeeps the shit out of both of them, deadpanning through his interaction with Javert effectively enough that Javert isn't actually sure this bourgeois is Valjean after all. And whoops I'm diverting myself to Valvert. Anyway for some reason Javert and Marius fuck and it's very morally dubious given the unexpected power difference, Javert is dependent on him for housing and food and social safety, he's not articulating desires or thoughts well, and—hm, perhaps there's been some delay on Marius' marriage with Cosette, he's painfully hungry for intimacy and he never intended to become so close to this other man's body, but—