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parkerslatte · 5 months ago

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Different

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: none

Summary: Ever since Feyre arrived at Velaris, they have only ever known Azriel a stoic and mostly serious. But once his wife comes home, she sees a different side to him.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

Feyre watched as Azriel stood by the window. His shadows moved over his shoulders and around his ear as if whispering something to him. The expression on Azriel’s face was his same neutral one that only ever seemed to change the smallest amount. And only ever in the presence of the Inner Circle and even then there would only be a small hint of a smile.

It was late at night and everyone was enjoying a relaxing night with a few bottles of Rhys’s expensive alcohol. So far, Azriel hadn’t moved from his place at the window, his back was rigid as if he was expecting something, though that was the only indicator that he was. His face was his usual stoicism, giving nothing away.

“Az, are you ever going to get away from that window anytime soon?” Cassian complained.

Azriel turned his attention to Cassian and scowled. “I’m busy.”

“Not busy enough to spend time with the people you love,” Cassian teased.

“Az, sit down, you won’t miss anything,” Rhys chimed in.

With a final look through the window, Azriel walked over to the rest of the Inner Circle and sat in the armchair. His back was tense and he was not fully relaxed. Ever since Feyre had known him he had always been somewhat alert to everything.

While everyone continues with the card game, Feyre couldn’t help but pay more attention to Azriel than to the game. Like Feyre, Azriel didn’t seem to be paying any attention to the game either. Instead he stared at the table in front of him completely lost in thought.

Elain, who was sitting on the floor beside Mor, looked up to Azriel. “It’s your turn,” she said.

“Oh,” Azriel said before picking a card out of his hand and placing it on top of the pile.

“That isn’t a card you can even put on top,” Cassian complained.

Azriel rolled his eyes. “Does it matter? You change the rules when you’re losing anyway.”

“I do not!” Cassian exclaimed. “I take this game seriously.”

“Until you are losing,” Nesta mumbled under her breath.

Cassian began to argue back, clearly becoming outnumbered in his argument. Feyre only watched on with amusement.

However everything was quickly interrupted by a new voice, one Feyre had never heated before, cut through the argument.

“I leave you all alone for a few years and everything goes to shit?”

Everything goes silent as everyone stares at the beautiful female who had just entered the room. Before Feyre could even process everything, Azriel threw his cards back down on the table and rushed up to the female.

The female giggled in delight as Azriel’s arms wrapped around her and swung her around. Feyre looked at her two sisters, each of them held the same expression she did. Confusion.

What shocked Feyre the most about the situation was the bright and wide smile stretching across Azriel’s face. She had only noticed now that he had dimples.

“I missed you so much,” Azriel mumbled.

“It has only been a few months for you,” the female replied.

“That is too long for me. I always wish for you to be next to me,” Azriel replied and pressed his lips against the females. His arms circled her waist, making sure there wasn’t a single gap between their bodies. The female threaded her fingers through his hair, causing Azriel to sigh in delight. Feyre couldn’t help but feel surprised by this display of affection from Azriel.

Feyre leaned back against Rhys. “Who is that?”

“Azriel’s mate and wife,” Rhys answered.

“What?” Feyre exclaimed. “None of you have ever mentioned her before.”

“That was Azriel’s decision,” Rhys replied, filling up his glass. “You see, Y/N works as a researcher all over the continent for me so she is rarely ever here so none of us can protect her. Azriel has made a lot of enemies over the years and if he were tied to her, she could be put in even more danger.”

“When was the last time they saw each other?” Elain interjected.

“For Azriel a few months ago,” Rhys answered. “Those two weeks just before Solstice when Azriel wasn’t here, he was on the continent with her.”

Feyre watched as Azriel buried his head into Y/N’s neck, holding her against him tightly. Feyre smiled at the sight.

“It has been at least two years since the rest of us have last seen Y/N,” Cassian chimed in. “It would be nice of her to greet the rest of us.”

Y/N pulled away from Azriel to smile at everyone else. “Give me a break, Cass. If you were to go without a hug from your mate in a few months, you wouldn't be jumping to greet everyone else first.”

“She knows about us?” Nesta asked.

Cassian nodded. “Whenever Azriel meets up with her, she always asks about you all. Apparently she has been excited to meet you all.”

Feyre watched as Azriel and Y/N walked over to join the group. Azriel’s gaze never left Y/N for a single second. Feyre’s gaze shifted down to their joined hands. She hid her smile behind her glass.

Y/N quickly greeted Rhys, Cassian and Mor with a hug and she gave a small nod to Amren.

Azriel sat down on the armchair first and as Y/N was about to sit in the arm of it, Azriel pulled her down so she sat in his lap instead. His arms locked around her waist as his chin rested on her shoulder. Feyre was sure she had never seen him look so happy before, so at ease. The smile on his face was one Feyre had never seen.

“It is great to finally meet you three,” Y/N said, her gaze flicking between Feyre, Nesta and Elain. “This one here,” she said, reaching to cup Azriel’s cheek, “has told me a lot about you.”

“It is great to meet you,” Feyre said with a smile.

“So now that introductions have finished,” Cassian begins, “can we get back to the game now? I was about to win.”

“Is that because you changed the rules halfway through the game?” Y/N teased.

Cassian rolled his eyes. “You know what, Y/N. I don’t think I missed you at all.”

Y/N chuckled. “We both know that’s a lie.”

Azriel laughed along with Y/N and placed a soft kiss to her shoulder. He looked completely different to the stoic and serious shadowsinger Feyre was used to. With Y/N, Azriel seemed like a completely different person. The tension had vanished from his body and his shadows, which were once sliding over his shoulders, were now caressing Y/N legs and arms. One of his hands caressed her thigh while the other threaded with hers. Feyre could see the goosebumps appear on Y/N’s skin wherever he caressed.

Azriel whispered something into Y/N’s ear which caused her to turn to him, smiling wide, her lips hovering just above his. The glimmer in Azriel’s eyes was prominent as he looked at her. It was as if she hung the stars. There was so much love and tenderness in his eyes that it could only be described as something out of a romance novel. She had never seen him look so at ease before. It was if everything else had melted away and the only thing left was Y/N.

Feyre couldn’t help but feel giddy at the sight.

“How long have they been mates for?” Feyre asked Rhys.

“Nearly three hundred years,” Rhys replied, wrapping an arm around Feyre. “They have been married for longer, the bond snapped nearly fifty years after they were married.”

“They seem happy,” Feyre said, her eyes not shifting from where Azriel and Y/N sat.

Rhys smiled at his two friends, friends he considered family. “They are. Azriel is always his happiest when Y/N is around. He always has been ever since they met.”

“Why does she go away for long periods of time?” Feyre questioned. “It feels like torture when I’m away from you for too long. I cannot imagine being mates to someone for three hundred years and only being able to see them every few months.”

“That is the way it has been through their whole relationship,” Rhys explains. “They both knew what each other did for a job and neither of them wanted the other to give it up.”

“How long is she back for this time?” Feyre asked.

“I hadn’t asked,” Rhys said. “But I have a small feeling she will be here for a while this time.”

Feyre frowned. “How so?”

“Because if I know anything about Y/N, it is that she would never decline a glass of my finest wine and so far she has declined every glass Mor has offered her,” Rhys observed.

Feyre looked at Rhys excitedly. “Does that mean—?”

Rhys smiled. “They haven’t said anything so I assume that they wish to keep the news between them for a little while longer.”

Feyre smiled over at Y/N and Azriel. She caught Y/N’s eye. The beautiful female only sent a wink Feyre’s way, a clear indication that she had overheard her and Rhys’s conversation.

“Az, it’s your turn,” Nesta said.

Azriel throws all of his cards onto the table. “I think I am done for the night.”

Cassian groaned . “Really?”

“Really,” Azriel said. “I want to spend time with my gorgeous mate and wife.”

Cassian chuckled. “That is only an excuse because you are losing,” the general teased.

Azriel rolled his eyes and swooped Y/N up in his arms. Her arms locked around his neck. “If you need us— actually don’t even try to contact us at all.”

Y/N threw her head back and laughed as Azriel carried her out of the room. Feyre could hear them laughing loudly even when the door was firmly closed behind them. Feyre leaned into Rhys and linked her fingers with his.

“I am happy for them,” Feyre said, her eyes staring at the door where Azriel and Y/N had left.

Rhys kissed the top of Feyre’s head. “Me too.”

#acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fluff

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hyperfixationcritter · 1 day ago

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#THANK YOU.#again the characters only hold value so much as they're useful to the white people around them#performing emotional physical and magical labour for them despite rarely getting the same themselves#it was especially egregious with mel this season and last bc we see her support jayce's raggedy ass CONSTANTLY#but he rarely if ever does the same for her#and the ONE time when it really would've counted this season even if they did break up in the end the show had him#try to beat her up and then talk shit to her face and she wasn't allowed to push back. gross gross gross.#but yay y'all got your white x spicy white yaoi so all is well with he world. fuck that tbqh.#as for ekko some of the writing was so bizarre with the 'what would you do without her' nonsense#like actually ekko was the boy saviour who started a resistance group of orphaned zaunite kids providing care#community and livelihood to those in need WITHOUT jinx/powder.#almost the entirety of ep7 was about ekko being there to further jinx's arc twice over.#all this to say jayviks now claiming they lurvee mel and have always lurved her bc they 'won' is grossly transparent to me#keep the same energy mfs#the weakness of the season was harmful to all the characters but it's doubly so with these two#bc of how they're positioned in the story and by fandom#and how the way ppl talk about them only lays bare the issues op pointed out#mel medarda#ekko#you both deserved a better show and more stories#hope we get to see you soon#arcane

EXACTLY, she's one of my favorite characters on the show and had the potential to have this kind of arc. And like, I like the secret magic stuff too but it was rushed (and I honestly preferred the theories of her being revived/blessed in the womb vs just being born with magic from a mystery magical parent). I definitely think dealing with racism in fandom made it harder to talk about Mel's actual flaws when everyone else was tryna make her evil incarnate for just existing while black and in the way of a white mlm ship (I know Jayce is latino coded but you can be white and latino like his voice actor and idk if the showrunners wanted him to be perceived as explicitly brown or not given the ways the west is about viewing lation as a race and the ways fandom treats him is a mix of both white when he's in a mlm ship and they wanna dunk on Mel and brown when they're mad at him, at least that's what i think)

(reblogging this again for all these good additions. I added my part at the end in the replies but felt like reblogging it too)

I don’t know how to say this exactly but like… fandom and show are kinda weird about Mel and Ekko and it is very much rooted in racism

#arcane spoilers #arcane #mel medarda #ekko

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fallingskiesandrisingseas · 2 months ago

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But what was most baffling to all that met the Pevensies after they came back was that they were kind.

Really. Not pretending, not because they were insecure. True, empathic. Far too understanding for children their age. They all have music in them.

Peter’s hands feel too small for him, but he shakes hands all the same. Gentle pressure. There is nobility behind those eyes. Eyes that always border on the supernatural sort of blue, especially in the dark.

He plays the guitar, gently coaxing otherworldly sounds out of an instrument that did not know it could be played like that. He helps his siblings with their homework, is taller much faster than his peers. Seems to take up more space, even though no one understands how a teenage boy manages that.

He doesn’t like doing nothing, ever. He instructs his classmates in grammar, gives away figures he cuts from wood with a knife that seems too sharp for a boy that small. He never hurts himself, though.

As the years pass, Peter grows strong. But he is gentle. He does not seem to be brash, even when many of his friends are. Peter keeps his emotions in check. Noble. Not undangerous, but not belligerent. Peter only ends fights, and only with people that deserve it.

He offers advice, a pat on the back. Teachers wanna dislike him, some do not like the look behind those eyes. Most find they cannot. Peter is popular with both adults and children, speaks sense and laughs often.

Peter is kind. Pious, devout. His faith is unmovable like rock. Did the kids meet God on the estate of their uncle?

Edmund plays the violin. A sad Edmund is a rare sight, but when he plays sad he can keep his whole floor awake. Somehow, Peter always finds h him quickly, effortlessly attuned to his brother’s moods. They play chess, then. Their chess master must have been a champion, Ed beats people with ease. He’s usually not smug about it.

Ed speaks politics and war in earnest, accepts critique graciously, is elegant in a way Peter never manages. Peter speaks frankly, but Edmund can wrap words up real nice. He doesn’t mince words, but his classmates grow into liking the sound of his voice. They appreciate that Edmund does not lie, even when speaking tactfully. Edmund can dial the temperature in a room, change it to suit himself.

He, too, laughs often, but Edmund is known to smirk. He likes being right and he often is. He’ll entertain anyone with a good story, always seems to have the right information to help you out. Remedies to illness, connections, job openings, how to sneak out of PE.

He’s a spider in a web. A bit reserved for a 11 year old, and oddly well-connected. A real ghost when he wants to be, but he never scares people with it.

Aslan would not approve of that. He believes in God as well, but much more intellectually. He’s got the intelligence to back it up and wit to match. A scholarly belief, but not lacking conviction.

Teachers like his enthousiasm, remember a moody nagging child when he left and see a secure young man come back.

Edmund will stand up for what is right. He gets into some trouble like that, but his verbal agility saves him always. Edmund has strong principles and will not bend them for anyone. No matter the trouble he gets in.

The bond with his brother is unbreakable. They even walk the same, chest out, left hand on their belt. They seem most at ease when fencing.

Susan was always warm and tenderhearted, but when she comes back there is a difference.

She seems to have gained authority. It’s real strange watching a 13-year old use her beauty like a grown woman, but Susan has learned to wield it, to stun people so she can creep under their skin. People LISTEN to her now.

Her wit is like a knife, but she avoids cutting deep. Susan is reasonable, and strong, and principled. The little drama others get involved in does not bother her, and she seems immune to petty insults. She has killed before, with her hands.

She will do it with kindness now. She is not very approachable ( that would be Lucy ), but she is kind. She used to mother over her brothers and sisters, but now that they have raised each other in a court full of magic she has gotten more relaxed. They listen to her on important issues, trust in her judgement. Her brothers does not deem himself more important, she is both well-spoken and well-respected by her siblings. Equal. It baffles the old men that teach her. Irritates them, too.

There is an air of mystery around her. Half a look is enough to get what she wants, Susan’s friends laud her security in herself, her Mona Lisa smile. She seems to temper moods easily, makes people feel at ease.

She most of everyone exudes royalty. It’s the grace. Susan plays the harp, her long fingers dancing across the strings like she’s had a lifetime of practice. She’s elegant, never caught off guard. Jamais faux pas.

She does not get angry. She knows who she will be. She is anxious to become an adult, yes, but she only wishes to look how she feels. Not to look differently. Yet the wish to be taken seriously, to have someone see you as an adult, it makes her surprisingly similar to her peers.

Her friends have not been old yet, is all. But Susan is calm and collected. People see her as someone you can tell a secret to. She never hurts someone, is usually a neutral party, speaks sense to adult and kids alike. She is not ignorant, however, will use every trick in the book to keep the peace. She knows when to go nuclear. Vis pacem para bellum.

Lucy is a sun in human form. She has a joie de vivre that is unmatched, is gay and golden-haired and never in a bad mood.

Lucy is kind by default, does not turn it off, does not turn it down. She’s witty and funny and quick on her feet. She has been grown before, yes, but enjoys being young for a few years more. She dances, sings old tunes. Her voice is her favorite instrument, you can usually hear Lucy coming.

Whistling a tune in the halls is known to improve the moods of everyone who hears it immensely. Young girls need to figure out who they are, but Lucy knows, knows what she’ll be and who she likes and what kind of people she wants to be around. She is not pretending, never moody. She can get sad, of course, but her older brothers and sisters are always nearby when that happens.

Lucy is genuine and fierce and convinced, immovable at times. Admired for her drive, but respected for her empathy. She speaks to everyone, often distributes flowers. There’s no naivite in her at all, she simply wishes to be like this so that the world may imitate her. She likes to see people prosper, is the first with praise.

She will go far, is the consensus. There’s steel beneath the soft exterior, Lucy has fire below the flowers. She’s well-liked and well-loved. She has love in spades, it seems, animals and stragglers and misfits and outcasts. She’s popular, her room is a good place to get a cup of tea and someone who will listen to you for some time. After a while she no longer bothers with the door.

That a heart that size fits in a girl that small is a mystery to many. Lucy does not think it is a mystery at all. It is the heart of a lion.

Her faith is as vocal as the rest of her, she sees it confirmed in all that is beautiful, all that is kind. She never tries to convert anyone but there are several people who have told her that version of God is someone they would like to know.

The Pevensies often see each other at parties, where they like to stand together. Edmund knows about everyone, everyone knows Peter, everyone likes Susan, but it is Lucy who knows everyone.

They are kind, but not weak. Peter gets his knuckles bloody sometimes, Edmund does not abide by the rules of unjust teachers. Susan and Lucy solve their problems differently but no less effective. Kindness is their usual way of operating, but they are still kings and queens. They will not allow cruelty, will not let bullies go unpunished.

They are sure of what they are and sure of what comes after death and this makes them kind. Kind , not harmless. Kind, not spineless. Kind, not ignorant. Kind, not naive.

Kind despite. Maybe kind because. The kings and queens of Narnia are proud of what they are, honour the teachings of their lion friend. Kind.

When the crash happens and three siblings die, everyone they know mourns deeply. Without them, the world is less kind.

#peter pevensie #edmund pevensie #lucy pevensie #susan pevensie #narnia #narnia meta #the lion the witch and the wardrobe #the chronicles of narnia #narnia fic

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luveline · 2 months ago

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jade!! I come on hands and knees begging for more rockstar!remus with shy!reader. I LOVE THEM. how are they doing?!

thank you for requesting! fem, 1k

You fit the part, tonight. Marlene has dressed you in her clothes —you wear a dark jacket covered in gothic, skeletal linework, a skirt barely long enough to show beneath it, with black tights and tall shoes.

Remus isn’t sure what it is about the slightly too big jacket that he likes so much. Maybe it’s your thighs on show, shadowed flanks of softness he knows too well. It could be your eyes, their ringing of dark kohl, your lengthened lashes. Perhaps it’s none of those things. After all, Remus has always loved to watch you laugh.

James thrusts his pint against yours, a splash of his cherry cider lapping the end of the cup to seep into your lemonade. Remus is unsure if there’s anything in it of substance, but you sip it through a breathless laugh and confirm that it hasn’t changed. No harm, no foul.

Remus taps his cigarette carton against the table out of habit. Sirius reaches for him before Remus has even split the seal, fingers pinching, pale hand expectant. Remus knocks into them with the carton and turns so Sirius can’t see him opening the box. “Thought you were off them?” Remus asks, quiet with the slower atmosphere at the table, so far from the bar.

“Can anyone ever really be off them?” Sirius asks.

He pressed himself into Remus’ arm, all the overfamiliarity of a best, best friend. Searching for comfort and selfish vices.

Remus hugs him suddenly, a rough arm around the back of his head in a hold that tugs curls as he uses the other hand to slide a cigarette between his lips. “Here, you baby.”

“Fuck off,” Sirius says around it.

Remus takes his own cigarette and shoves the box back in his pocket. Sirius lights his own, lights Remus’, and together they tip their heads back, getting a glance at the oranging ceiling and the upstairs drinking pit.

“She’s sweet, letting Marl dress her up a bit.”

“Makes Marlene feel better,” Remus says.

“Yeah, it does. Reckon she and Mary will mend it?”

Remus shrugs. The love triangle between Mary, Marlene and Dorcas is confusing. He loves them, though, so it’s a confusing he understands. “It won't be long before we find out.”

You, James and Emmeline begin to make your way back to the table. You have two drinks each, too many for the amount of people, though none of you seem to have noticed. You’re just giggling and meandering around low chairs until you get there.

James slams his drinks down and grabs you from the side. “My sweethearts, I return the sweethearts.”

“Can I have one?” Emmeline asks.

Remus passes her the cigarette carton dutifully.

“Can I–”

“No,” Remus says.

You squint at him. “Don’t be weird,” you say, embarrassed, taking the box when Emme passes it, sliding it between painted lips, “I’m not a baby.”

You talk around the cigarette with the ease of practice. If there’s one thing life on the road gives, it’s addiction. Remus is thankful that you and all of your friends chose nicotine.

“You’re trying to quit.” Remus feels the funny burn of smoke as he inhales again. “And I’m trying to help you.”

“Same help you gave Sirius, clearly,” James says.

“C’mere,” Remus says, opening his arm for you. “Come on.”

You grin and weave around Emme to his side of the table, propping a drink in front of him. “For you.”

“Thank you.” He blows smoke as far from your face as he can manage and tucks you under his arm.

The makeup on your lips is rubbing off, a darker outlining with light insides, but it’s enough to express Marl’s taste. Remus will be happy to kiss the rest of it away later on, when James and Sirius are drunk enough to become openly obsessed with one another and leave him alone, carving out some rare alone time.

You smoke as Remus taught you to. He remembers the day, your shaking, his chest pain, not wanting to corrupt you and yet enlivened by the way you looked trying to foster the flame at the end of it. Nicotine helps calm your nerves, which you’re often in need of, but Remus never meant for it to become a crux. He snuffs his cigarette in the ashtray and catches yours to do the same, barely two puffs in.

“Wha–”

“Let me have a look at you,” he says.

Your friends scoff and jeer but quickly move on. Remus catches your chin between his fingers.

He’s not like Sirius. He couldn’t do this to any girl, can’t seduce like that, but it’s not any girl he touches. Your eyes go to swimming pleasure as he pulls you forward, edging downward to kiss you. You both taste of smoke, of drink, and it would put him off if there wasn’t something sweeter to be chased in your mouth. He kisses you like there’s no one at the table but you.

He’s had more to drink than he thinks.

“You taste like jaeger,” you say, pulling away with cheeks he’d find hot if he were to cradle and a shy smile.

“Do I?”

“That’s a thousand times worse for you than those, you know.” You point at his quickly dwindling pack of cigarettes.

Remus curls an arm behind your neck and kisses you again. James cheers, says, “Fuck, I wish Moony kissed me like that,” and Remus tries his best to ignore him, but you’re laughing. The kiss breaks.

“Just ask him nicely like I do,” you advise.

“You know that doesn’t work!” James says, tipping his head back with a hand to the forehead. “I always ask him nicely, he just doesn’t want to kiss me. Must be something about you…” He gives a huge smile as he lifts his cider. “Something I don’t have?”

“Impossible,” Sirius says blithely, “you’ve everything, gorgeous boy.”

“Something about you,” Remus echoes.

You shake your head minutely, a silent warning. Don’t flirt with me, it says. Don’t torture me.

“How do you want the answer?” Remus asks, sliding his arm back behind your shoulders, pulling your burning face against his neck. “I can give it to you in an essay or a list, but it’s an extensive explanation.”

“Write it down for me.”

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #remus x reader #remus x you #marauders #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #marauders x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #the marauders

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abyssruler · 1 year ago

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roses are red, violets are blue, lynette is so done with the two of you

lyney x gn!reader

lynette thinks fontaine’s worst kept secret isn’t how neuvillette wears blue underwear or how the hydro archon loves a good drama, no, fontaine’s worst kept secret is lyney’s massive crush on you and how everyone and their grandmother know except you.

comedy, pining lyney, lynette being so done

Lyney’s frowning.

Most people would find it an odd expression on him, used to having him direct dazzling smiles and playful laughter their way. But Lynette isn’t just anyone, and the sight of Lyney frowning is hardly a rare phenomenon within the privacy of their household.

Freminet’s usually Lyney’s choice of victim for whatever nonsense he’s managed to build himself up in that head of his, but Freminet’s busy doing errands and Lynette is unfortunately the only person within vicinity that Lyney trusts with his secret—which isn’t even a secret by this point, people have been making bets on how long it would take you to realize that Lyney’s been pining over you since forever.

Case in point: Lyney frowning over two identical flowers. She doesn’t need to be a mind reader to know that her brother is having a midlife crisis over which flower to give you.

Lynette thinks he should just man up and confess. Preferably within the next week or so, otherwise she’d lose her bet.

“Lynette, which one is more eye-catching, the crimson one,” he holds up the flower in his right hand, then he raises the other one, “or the maroon one?”

Lynette gives him the deadest stare she can muster. “They’re the same color.”

“Oh, sister, have you no taste?” Lyney tuts, pouting at her for a moment before returning to that constipated look as he squinted at the ‘crimson’ and ‘maroon’ flowers. Talk about being delusional.

“(Y/N)’s not gonna care whether the rose is crimson or maroon or red,” she tells him. You’d probably accept a dead flower if it came from Lyney, with that starry-eyed look you always got whenever he so much as glances your way. Lynette’s not one to judge other people’s taste too harshly, but she does wonder what you see in her overdramatic and annoying brother.

Ah, well. They do say love makes people blind. Hopefully not literally though, Lynette’s not looking forward to performing shows alone because Lyney got blinded by his love for you—though if you asked Lynette, she’d tell you it wasn’t love so much as obsession. Only someone insane would spend hours picking out flowers and calling them ‘maroon’ and ‘crimson’. It’s just red.

Lynette squints at him. “And since when were you interested in the meaning of flowers?”

“Well, I suppose you could say I like to dabble in other pursuits.” Lyney gives her a cheeky grin.

“Right…” He’s clearly losing his mind.

“Red roses symbolize true love, though rainbow roses in particular pertain to passion, and…” He trails off, eyes blinking in astonishment. She can practically see the lightbulb appearing on top of his head.

With a flick of his wrists, the ‘crimson’ and ‘maroon’ roses disappear. Lynette watches him warily, wondering what kind of outlandish idea has formed in that head of his.

But he doesn’t elaborate more, only shoots a wink at her and says, “I’ve got a great idea.”

✧

His great idea, as it turns out, is to corner you in an alleyway and make it rain rainbow roses around you as he asked you out on a date, all while Lynette is crouched on the roof, dumping sacks of rainbow roses and vindictively hoping one of them stabs Lyney in the eye. No such luck.

You, as the ever-crazy romantic that you are, are awestruck and amazed by what he’s done instead of weirded out like how a normal person would be. With an eager smile and a twinkle in your eye, you accept the rose in Lyney’s hand and say yes when he asks you to meet him for dinner tomorrow. Lynette wants to barf, but settles for dumping another sack of flowers on top of the two of you.

And if she uses a little bit of anemo to direct a few petals to Lyney’s face? Well, you removing a petal sticking to his cheek and having your fingers linger there for a few moments wasn’t part of the plan (the plan being: embarrass her brother by having him choke on a petal while he’s speaking), but she can’t entirely begrudge the result. Not when Lyney looks like he’s about to have a meltdown with just one touch from you. Good blackmail material right there.

Lynette’s happy that the two of you have finally gotten your heads off your asses and are actually going on a date. Though mostly she’s happy about the amount of mora heading her way soon.

She’ll have to thank Freminet for telling her about the bet about you and Lyney. Maybe she can start a new bet on when the two of you are getting married—probably soon, if the lovestruck look on Lyney’s face is anything to go by. She hopes he won’t be crazy enough to propose on the second date, because you’d certainly be crazy enough to accept if he did.

Oh, well. Lynette will put a bet on one month just in case.

#look i haven’t done the archon quest yet #so i don’t have a good feel yet of their characters #but i’m sticking with this characterization!!#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #lyney x reader #gn reader #lynette

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hoffmansgirl · 25 days ago

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ONE OF THE GIRLS — ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ nicholas a. chavez

a/n. not a request but i looooved the idea, this one's kinda short though!!... :((

warnings. +18 minors dni! ━ oral (m!receiving), fingering, dirty talk, cheating (nicholas does... this is just fiction!), unprotected piv, recording!!!! | wc. 1125 ♡

"holy fuck", he groaned, head falling back against the soft pillow. the room barely illuminated by red led lights, soft music playing in the background as y/n swirled her tongue around nicholas' thick, aching tip. she smiled, knowing exactly what drove him crazy. that's why he kept coming back for more.

she closed her eyes, humming at the salty taste of his pre cum in her mouth. she then lowered her head to leave wet kisses on his length, tongue darting out to trace the veins on the underside of his cock.

"no one like you", he praised, tangling his fingers in her hair softly, more for balance than a sign of control.

"do you tell her the same thing?" she asked, heart bleeding, yet a little smirk still lingering on her face, stroking his cock slowly, teasingly. "do you praise her the same way? does she make you feel this good?", she continued, voice dangerously quiet, thumb brushing against his red tip, his hips bucking.

nicholas' entire body shook at the words and the teasing movements of her hand, quiet groan leaving his mouth. he shook his head, knowing that she, in fact, didn't.

she took him in her mouth slowly, sucking on his tip, movements of her hand never flattering. nicholas' eyes opened, thumb brushing against her cheek softly as she worked her mouth on him. breathless moan left him when she took him deeper, tip brushing against her throat as she stared up at him, the innocence in her gaze making his breath hitch.

"fuck, baby", he wailed, muscles on his stomach tightening as she brought him closer and closer to his climax way too fast.

embarrassment bloomed in nicholas' chest; hips bucking into her mouth as she moved in rapid speed, no need to use her hand when her mouth took his cock in fully. she didn't gag, not even once, keeping his gaze proudly, clearly enjoying herself, tears blurring her vision as she devoured him.

nicholas tugged at her hair before he could stop himself, yanking her off his cock, string of saliva still connecting them.

his phone light up, but he didn't even spare it a glance as he flipped them over, hovering over her, tugging at the waistband of her thong greedily. y/n grinned, tugging at his hair to connect their lips, biting on nicholas' bottom lip, earning a groan for him.

"you're such a fucking tease", he hissed, hand getting in contact with her clit as he slapped her, sending a joilt of pleasure down her spine. "always sending me those dirty fucking pictures when you know i'm with her", he snarled and she whined as he slapped her again, holding her hips down with his other hand. his cock throbbed at the sound she made, tongue bullying it's way into her mouth and down her throat, devouring her greedily.

"you know you fucking love it", she sobbed as he plunged two thick fingers into her soaking cunt, the stretch of it deliciously painful.

"shut the fuck up", he groaned.

she didn't hear him, not when he split her in half with only his fingers, not when his hand landed on her breast sharply, squeezing it immediately after, tugging at her nipple just how he knew she liked it.

she cried, gushing on his fingers, not sure if her orgasm already came, and if it did, how long it lasted.

her ━ rarely seen ━ submissiveness making nicholas smirk as his hands left her body altogether, the one previously ruining her cunt already pumping on his girthy length, eyes threatening to close at the stimulation.

"beg for this cock. beg for me, like the slut you are", he demanded, smacking her thigh when her hips bucked up to meet his cock. "beg me to use you".

y/n whined at his words. she opened her eyes, the sight of him making her head spin yet again. his body as perfect as ever, glistening with sweat, hair sticking to his forehead, eyes darker than ever again in the dim light. his mouth curved upwards, wicked, open mouthed smirk lingering on his face.

before she could register, she was already begging, crying out pathetically.

"i fucking need your dick- use me, nicholas- nick, please, fuck", her eyes widened at the sight of him reaching for his phone in the nightstand. "w-what are you doing?".

"'m gonna record us", he replied casually, and she shivered at the thought.

he reached for his cock again, stroking himself a few times, before spreading her open and plunging into her with one, swift thrust.

he pointed his phone to the place where they connected, free hand gripping at her thigh roughly, pinning it into the mattress. nicholas bit his lip, moving teasingly slow as she cried out, fingers tangling into the satin sheets.

he moved his hand up her body, brushing over her stomach, fidgeting with her breast for a second, before wrapping around her throat.

"i can't", her voice barely a whisper, eyes rolling back, the pressure on her neck adding to the pleasure of his cock deep inside her.

"oh yes, you fucking can", he growled, pressing down into her pulse point, and her eyes snapped open. he captured her reaction with the camera before setting it on the nightstand, making sure they were still in a frame. nicholas gripped on her breast, played with her nipple greedily, and she could barely breathe, due to the pressure on her neck.

his hips snapped against hers swiftly, aggressively, as he leaned down to kiss her slowly. nicholas began to move in a inhumane speed, making her cry out into his mouth.

"gonna watch it every. single. night", he hissed, breathless, at the feeling of her clenching around him hard. "'m gonna watch it every time i can't have you spread out for me just like that", she wailed at the feeling of his fingers pressing into her clit, teasingly slow, a contrast of his rough and sharp thrusts.

"what if she- fuck-" she wasn't unable to finish, whole body contracting as her orgasm crashed over her.

"i don't fucking care anymore", he let out through gritted teeth, mouth opening in a moan as he felt her clench around him. "let her see how i ruin you. how perfect you are for me. fuck, i love you".

the words left his mouth before he could think them through. he stilled inside of her, grinding his hips against hers to hold off his own orgasm.

his hand slid from in between their bodies to hold himself up above her.

"i love you too, nick", she cried out, voice sincere, their foreheads pressing together as she came down. "but you are not mine".

━━━━━━━━━━

2024, hoffmansgirl ©

nicholas alexander chavez masterlist ✿ | about the author

#nicholas chavez #nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas chavez smut #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas alexander chavez smut #nicholas alexander chavez x reader

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english-history-trip · 2 years ago

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Ever see a depiction of St. George and the Dragon? It's pretty fair to say if you've seen one, you've seen them all: Georgie on a horse stabbing a flailing dragon creature, princess piously kneeling in the background, vague landscape alluding to the homeland of the artist's patron.

The most varied part is the dragons. No one had a real definition for the thing, it seemed. For your pleasure and entertainment, I have ranked some medieval depictions based on how impressive George's feat seems once you see the dragon.

Paolo Uccello, 1456

This is a terrifying beast. The hell is that. Uccello was one of the first experimenters with perspective, so the thing also looks surreal, like it's taking place on Mars, or a Windows 95 screensaver. I would not want to fight that, I would not want to be tied to that. (Sometimes the princess is tied to the dragon for some reason.) 10/10

Horse thoughts: Maybe if I look at the ground it will be gone when I look up

Unknown artist, c. 1505

This is a rare change of form for the dragon; it's the only one I've seen actually flying (or at least falling with style). It doesn't look particularly deterred by the spear through its throat, either. Also, George looks appropriately nervous. On the other hand, it hasn't got teeth, it seems to be fuzzy rather than having scaly armor, and George is bolstered by his army of Henry VII and his children, most of whom definitely didn't actually die in infancy. Still, wouldn't want to fight it, wouldn't want my pet sheep near it. (Sometimes the princess has a pet sheep for some reason.) 9/10

Horse thoughts: I am so glad I wore my mightiest feather helmet for this

Raphael, 1505

We are coming to Dragons With Problems. This guy looks about comparable in size to George, and does have wings, but doesn't seem to be using these things to his advantage (and has he only got one wing?) And how does he deal with the neck? He does have a comically small head, but holding it up with such a twisty neck seems complicated at best. But most egregiously, he is doing the shitty superheroine pose where he is somehow simultaneously showcasing his chest and his butt, with its unnecessarily defined butthole (more on this later) (regrettably). 8/10 bc it's Raphael

Horse thoughts: AM I THE BESTEST BOI? AM I DOING SUCH A GOOD JOB? WE R DRAGON SLAYING BUDDIEZ

The Beauchamp Hours, c. 1401

We had a spirited debate about this one at work. Again, the dragon has gotten smaller, and this one hasn't got even one wing. He's basically a crocodile. So the debate became: would you want to fight a crocodile if you had a horse and a pointy stick? Would the horse trample the animal, who can't get on its hind legs, or freak out and throw its rider? Would the pointy stick be enough to pierce the croc's thick hide? In this case, George seems to be controlling his horse and putting his pointy stick in the dragon's weak spot, so we can be impressed by his skill and strategy. However, his hat is dumb. 7/10

Horse thoughts: Dehhhh

Book of Hours, c. 1480

Here we have the same kind of croco-dragon, but George's focus on his strategy has gone out the window. He's flailing around, not even looking at his target, he's about to lose his pointy stick, he hasn't got a hand on the reins, and his sword seems to only be poking the invisible dragon over his shoulder. All he's got going for him is that his hat is slightly less dumb. 6/10

Horse thoughts: Yay, new friend! Come play with me, new fr- what is happening

Final dragons put behind this Read More for your safety:

Rogier van der Weyden, c. 1432

I'm thinking this guy is at least semi-aquatic. Webbed feet, wings that seem more like fins, bipedal but top-heavy, jaws that seem more for scooping than biting. Maybe she's crawled up here from the nearby body of water to lay her eggs, and this is all a big misunderstanding. Moreover, George's dagged sleeves seem entirely impractical for the situation. 5/10

Horse thoughts: i got my hed stuk in a jar and now it is this way forever

Unknown artist, c. 15th century

I hate this. I hate everything about it. Why has it got human eyes and teeth. Why is its nose melting. Why has it got a dick on its face and balls under its chin. The fin/wings are back but they look even more useless. Also, George is shifty as hell, schlumped over in his saddle with his bowler hat thing over his eyes. The baby dragon at the bottom eating some hapless would-be rescuer is kind of metal. 4/10 at least the thing is gonna die

Horse thoughts: I Have Smoked So Much Crack

Book of Hours, c. 1450

Remember what I said about the buttholes? First, sorry. Second, yeah, we're back to that. I'll admit this one is less about the danger from the dragon itself than the very specific choices the artist has made. They didn't need to do that. It's a lizard. They don't even have. And it's like they had an orifice budget and they skipped an exit wound for the spear to focus. Elsewhere. It's so detailed. And George had an even dumber hat. 2/10 take it away

Horse thoughts: I Have Smoked So Much Weed

Book of Hours, c. 1415

This is just bullying. There isn't even a princess. That is clearly an infant. Look at that smug look on George's face as he swings his sword that's bigger than the whole little guy. This is the equivalent of when DJT Jr. hunted those sleeping endangered sheep. 1/10

Horse thoughts: ....yikes

And this is the previous one, but now the baby dragon is cute. He's chubby. He's got toe beans. He's Puff the Magic Dragon. His eyes have already gone white, implying that George is just kicking its corpse around for funsies. What's the difference between the dragon and the lamb in the background? That the dragon is dead, like our innocence. This George is truly deserving of the dumbest hat of all. 0/10 plus one more butthole for the road

Horse thoughts: Perhaps it is we who are the buttholes.

#art history #nonsense #hot takes #I am doing a St. George painting and have been wading through reference material #manuscript #fuck me I didn't notice van der Weyden managed to sneak a butthole in his too #the definitive list #when knighthood was in flower #dragons georg

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 5 months ago

Note

How about Aegon or Aemond corrupting jace's twin? Maybe Aegon does the corrupting and Aemond is into her?

The list of morally wrong things in this one is astronomical, but it’s House of the Dragon so it’s okay. Also, this is part 1 (let me know what should happen in the next part!). I wanted to wait until it was fully finished to post, but this is 6k already so I'm splitting it

Warnings: 18+, smut, uncle/niece incest, corruption, fingering, oral (m receiving), non-consensual touch (not by Aegon or Aemond), protective!Aegon,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

It all began when a letter from your grandsire arrived at Dragonstone, inviting you to spend summer in King’s Landing. You hadn't seen your grandsire since his fiftieth namedays, which was about two years ago, so you were more than pleased to accept his invitation. The gardens were beautiful in the summer…and you hadn’t seen Haelena in a while.

It was absolutely not in the hopes to see your uncles again.

‘’Are you out of your mind? You’re going straight to the dragons’ den! Have you forgotten how they treated us all these tears we lived there?’’ Jacaerys said, walking into your bedchamber like it was his own.

The news of your summer plans must have reached his ears after his lesson with the Maester.

‘’They’re not horrible people, you just never got along with them,’’ you fired back at your twin brother as you continued packing your bags for tomorrow.

Growing up, your brothers had a few differences with Aegon and Aemond — many stupid fights and a lot of bullying on both ends —, but you never had the same treatment. Mayhaps it was because you were spending more time with Haelena than the boys. Or mayhaps they just took their teasing too seriously.

Jacaerys was not letting it go. ‘’They called you a bastard in your back, like they did Luke and I.’’

The first time you heard the word from Aegon’s mouth, it hurt you. Being a bastard was badly seen. Especially for the children of the heir of the Iron throne. His slur branded your mother as a whore.

Having heard, Jacaerys had come forward, the two pushing and shoving until Ser Criston and Ser Harwin separated them. When informed that a fight had occured in the courtyard between Aegon and Jace, your mother was mad at Jacaerys but also flattered that he had defended her honor.

‘’We both know the truth about our father, Jace,’’ you reminded him, refusing to be blind.

Although you and your brothers were conceived from an infidelity, you didn’t feel shame in being your father’s child. You remembered Ser Harwin being around in King’s Landing and making your mother happy. He was a kind and honorable man. Leanor was rarely ever present.

‘’If the court finds out about our father, I won’t be recognized as heir. They’ll never allow a bastard to sit on the Iron Throne.’’

‘’We’re Targaryens, and that’s all that matters, all you need to sit on the throne,’’ you insisted. ‘’Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to finish packing.’’

⁂

At your return from King’s Landing, you’ll be meeting suitors — which you dreaded. That meant that this summer was going to be the last summer before becoming a wife. The thought of getting married made your stomach churn. Marriage was not something that interested you — at all. Like your mother, you would much rather ride your dragon and travel than live in a Lord’s castle and start a family.

Your arrival was announced to the King, who summoned you in the throne room.

He stood from the throne as you approached, a smile spreading across his face. ‘’Ah, there you are,’’ Viserys said warmly, stepping down to meet you. ‘’It's good to see you back in King's Landing.’’

You returned the smile. ‘’Thank you for the invitation, Your Grace,’’ you replied respectfully.

‘’You’ve grown,’’ Viserys remarked, his gaze appraising you. ‘’And you inherited your grandmother's beauty.’’

Though you never had the chance to meet Queen Aemma, you knew it was a compliment. The King always spoke fondly of his late wife.

‘’I’ll be ten and eight soon,’’ you informed him.

‘’Already?’’ The King raised an eyebrow and you nodded. ‘’Time flies, doesn’t it? We’ll have a tourney in your and Jacaerys’ honor. My first grand-children turning ten and eight, it deserves to be celebrated.’’

⁂

You changed out of your traveling dress, then went looking for your aunt and uncles.

First, you spotted Aegon soaring overhead on Sunfyre, the golden dragon gleaming in the sunlight. He had gotten so large and beautiful. You’ll have to ask Aegon to ride together next time he goes.

Next, you made your way to the training yard, where you knew Aemond often spent his time. As expected, you found him there, sparring with Ser Criston, his movements swift and precise. He was much better than your brothers at sparring, you mentally noted.

You called his name excitedly as you stepped down the stairs, which you realized was a mistake when he almost got taken down by Ser Criston. You apologized, but Aemond shook his head.

‘’No harm done,’’ he assured you, putting away his sword and walking over to you.

The last time you were in this training yard, you kicked Aemond’s ass. You were only kids, but it was still one of your greatest victories. Sword-fighting was in your blood. With a little bit of training, you would be as great as the boys in this yard.

‘’Can you still hold a sword, Princess?’’

⁂

You and Aemond cleaned up just in time for dinner, where you greeted the Queen and Helaena. They had the same hairstyle, which reminded of you and your mother, Rhaenyra. Children look up to their parents.

After dinner, you, Helaena, Aemond and Aegon retired to the latter’s chamber and spent the evening talking, laughing and eating small cakes and other sweet treats that you had requested from the kitchens.

‘’These pastries are divine,’’ you said, loving the bitter raspberry mixed with the sweetness of the tart. ‘’We don’t have anything like this on Dragonstone.’’ You took another bite, humming at the taste.

Just as you finished your third tart, Aegon stood and excused himself. ‘’It's been wonderful having you here, dear niece, but duty calls.’’

You glanced out the window, noticing the silver glow of the moon and the twinkling stars against the dark sky. ‘’At late hour?’’

Aegon paused for a moment, a confident smirk spreading across his face. ‘’Some duties can only be fulfilled at night,’’ he declared cryptically, his gaze flickering mischievously towards Aemond, who could only shake his head in response.

‘’I wouldn't exactly call it duty,’’ Aemond remarked, trailing off as Aegon interjected with a mischievous grin.

‘’A treat, then,’’ the older prince continued, redirecting his attention to you with a knowing look. ‘’You enjoy pastries. I, however, have a preference for women.’’

Confusion clouded your expression. ‘’What do you mean?’’

‘’Sex,’’ Aegon declared boldly, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

Your gaze fell to your feet, color rising in your cheeks. ‘’Oh.’’

Aegon's lips twitched with amusement at your reaction. ‘’Ever had sex, dear niece?’’

‘’Aegon,’’ Aemond interjected, his voice a warning.

You shook your head.

It was a good thing that Helaena had fallen asleep or she would have covered her ears. Sex always made her uncomfortable.

‘’Not even with yourself?’’ Aegon continued.

Confusion struck your face. ‘’Eh, no.’’

‘’You’re missing out.’’

⁂

Every night, you watched from your window as Aegon sneaked out through the secret passageway of the Red Keep. You had discovered these passageways when you were playing hide and seek as kids. Aemond always complained that hiding there was cheating, but you and Aegon did it anyway.

You couldn't help but wonder what was so great about sex that made him go out every night.

One night, you decided to follow him. The curiosity was too much to resist.

You snuck early through the secret passageways and waited for any sign of Aegon's approach. The damp, narrow corridors brought back memories of your childhood games.

Finally, you heard his familiar footsteps echoing down the passage. As he rounded the corner, you stepped out of the shadows.

‘’What is my favorite niece doing here?’’ Aegon asked, raising an eyebrow. He had a dark cloak over his shoulders, covering any signs that could give his identity away in the city.

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. ‘’I want to come to the pleasure house with you.’’

Aegon stared at you for a moment, then laughed.

‘’I'm serious, Aegon. I…I want to know about sex.’’ You tried to make your voice confident, knowing Aegon would send you to your chamber if he sensed a sliver of uncertainness.

Taking your hand in his, Aegon led you through the maze of streets and alleys. It was bustling with people. Merchants and artisanal liquor sellers were pushing their beverages at you, almost forcing you to have a taste. Some people were drunk and stumbling about, while some were playing instruments with surprising skill, their melodies blending with the occasional fights breaking out nearby. You could hear obscene sounds from darkened alleys, adding to the chaotic symphony of the night.

It was your first time coming to the city, and the overwhelming sights and sounds made you clung to Aegon, not wishing to get lost.

He came to a stop when you reached a dark wooden door. Aegon pushed it open and pulled you inside.

The stuffy air hit you immediately, making you wrinkle your nose. Aegon took off his hood, but didn’t let go of you. You were under his responsibility tonight. Around you, people lounged around in various states of undress, some lost in laughter, others in more intimate activities that brought a pink tint to your cheeks.

Aegon made a stop to the bar, ordering two cups of wine. One for him, and one for you.

‘’Drink,’’ he said. ‘’It’s nothing like what we have at the Keep, but it'll help you relax.’’

You took the glass and sipped tentatively, the sour taste of the wine making you grimace. He was right about this wine being disgusting. You had to force it down your throat.

‘’What do you do when you come here?’’ you asked, looking around with a mix of curiosity and unease.

Aegon leaned against the bar as he downed the rest of his drink. ‘’I get my cock sucked. Or I fuck some whore. Depends how I’m feeling that night.’’

His bluntness caught you off guard, and you felt your cheeks flush. ‘’What of me? How do I…’’ You bit your lip, the words shy on your tongue. ‘’I don’t have a cock.’’

‘’You don’t need a cock for pleasure.’’ Aegon set his empty cup on the bar. ‘’Come with me.’’

You followed him through the mass of people, avoiding touching or being touched by anyone. Some of these people were very handsy and pushy, asking for things you didn’t quite understand.

One the way, a woman approached Aegon, her dress barely clinging to her body. She smiled seductively at him, her eyes flicking to you briefly before returning to him. ‘’Care for some company tonight, my prince?’’ she purred, hoping to make some good money tonight.

Aegon glanced at you, as if gauging your reaction, then back at the woman. ‘’Not tonight.’’

The whore looked at you behind Aegon, giving you a full stare down, and glared. Did she take you for another whore? In your silk dress and jewelry around your neck?

You followed your uncle to a room, gasping in shock when you saw a woman being penetrated by two men. One was standing at her head, her mouth wrapped around him. Spit was dribbling from her mouth, but she didn’t seem to care. And the other was thrusting into her from behind, loud moans leaving their mouths. To your right, a woman with saggy breasts was bouncing on a bearded man’s cock. She craned her head back to kiss her partner, sweat covering both their bodies.

It was not at all what you had expected. No one seemed shy or embarrassed of exposing themself in front of so many people. In fact, they didn’t seem to care at all. They were just there to take what they needed.

‘’Don’t listen to what your Septa told you. Sex is not just for baby-making, sex is for pleasure. For the woman as it is for the man,’’ Aegon purred into your ear as you watched the people around you. ‘’Men find pleasure from their cock.’’ He pointed to a man getting his male part sucked, his head thrown back and moaning. ‘’And women from their cunny.’’ He pointed to two women in a corner, one with her hand between her partner’s legs. She seemed to be feeling great pleasure, you noticed. ‘’Although most people here indulge in penetrative sex, penetration is not necessary for pleasure. You can find that same pleasure — at least similar to — by yourself.’’

‘’I want to try,’’ you stated, wanting to feel the same pleasure as her.

Aegon shook his head. ‘’We’re only here to watch. I’m not letting any of these men get their hands on you.’’

You frowned. ‘’How am I supposed to learn?’’

Aegon motioned for one of the unoccupied whores to come up to him. Her hair was brown and very long. He gave her body a few caresses, then pointed at you as he explained something to her. She nodded in understanding and took your hand, leading you to a corner where a ‘bed’ was not being used.

‘’Larissa is gonna teach you the ways to pleasure,’’ Aegon explained.

⁂

On your return from the brothel, you said a giggly ‘good night’ to Aegon and disappeared inside your chamber, excited to undress and try what Larissa had taught you. You had studied her movements, which had triggered tingly feelings between your legs.

You unlaced your dress and boots, then flopped down on your bed. You opened your legs, exposing your pussy, and took a short moment to look down at it. It was different from Larissa’s. Your hair density was different and you didn’t have the floppy skin she called ‘petals’, but you didn’t think too much of it. All bodies were different, she said.

The cool air of the room made the throbbing between your legs worse. Was this how it was supposed to feel?

Tentatively, you lowered one hand between your legs, right against your throbbing core, and breathlessly gasped when you made contact with your sensitive skin. You threw your head back against the wall and closed your eyes at the new found sensation.

Wetness stuck to your fingers and you pressed harder against your core, causing your eyelashes to flutter. ‘’Ahh.’’

Your fingers traced the seam of your slit, spreading the wetness around. Each touch sent waves of sensation through you, making you want more. Taking it to the next level, you swiped between your folds, causing you to moan as soon as you met your sensitive flesh.

You continued doing so, humming in delight and feeling yourself relax more into the sensations your fingers were bringing. Why had no one told you about this kind of pleasure before? It was much better than eating raspberry tarts.

Another moan slipped past your lips, the tingly feeling between your legs intensifying. You pushed your hips down onto your hand and sighed softly, arching your back from the bed. But it wasn't enough.

Something inside you was tingling.

Finding no better ways to relieve these tingles, you slid your middle finger inside of yourself. Immediately, your walls closed around your finger, warm and wet. It felt strange — and sinful. You began moving it in and out, your mouth opening to form an ‘O’ shape.

‘’Oh Gods…’’

You began pumping your finger in and out a bit faster, thinking it was what you needed, but it did not make the tingles go away. It did feel good, but after a moment, your hand was getting tired and the tingles were growing more intense.

‘’What am I doing wrong?’’ you asked aloud, feeling frustrated.

⁂

On the morrow, after your afternoon tea with Helaena, you knocked on Aegon’s door. He rarely left his chambers during the day — other than for dinner or to ride Sunfire —, so you knew he would be there.

Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the heavy wooden door. The sound echoed in the quiet hallway. Moments later, the door creaked open, revealing Aegon in his usual princely attire. His silver hair was tousled, and his eyes had a tired look.

‘’I need your help,’’ you said, not wasting time with formal greetings. ‘’Something seems wrong with my body, I’m afraid…’’

Aegon raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe. ‘’What do you mean?’’

You hesitated, second thinking if you should be going to him about your intimate problems. After all, Aegon had boy parts, how could he help you? ‘’What Larissa taught me last night, it is not working. I tried, but I cannot…make the tingles go away. My finger is not enough.’’

Aegon's expression shifted from curious to alarmed as he glanced on both sides of the halfway, making sure no one had heard you. If anyone knew of your little escapade into the city, Aegon would be in a lot of trouble.

Then, he stepped aside, gesturing for you to enter quickly. The room was somber despite the large window dorning over the city, and the bed was unmade. You couldn’t say you were surprised by the latter.

Aegon shut the door behind you, pulling you out of your observation, and turned to face you. ‘’You should be more careful of the matters you speak about outside closed doors. You would be surprised by the number of ill intentioned ears that are waiting for bad whispers in this castle.’’

You nodded, having not thought of that. On Dragonstone, there weren't as many maids or servants. They mostly assisted your mother and the younger children, or busied themselves with cleaning tasks in the lower floors of the castle.

‘’Take a seat,’’ Aegon invited, sitting down in a large velvet chair at the center of the room and gesturing towards a loveseat right across for you. ‘’And tell exactly what you mean by ‘not enough’.’’

You pursed your lips, trying to find the right words. ‘’I do not know how to put it into words… All I know is that when I inserted my finger inside myself, it felt good. But the tingles intensified and my finger wasn’t enough anymore. A-am I broken, Aegon?’’

He laughed quietly at the last remark. ‘’Broken? No. You’re not broken, my darling. You’re simply not doing it quite right. You see, in order to truly satisfy yourself when you’re all alone…a finger simply isn’t enough.’’ Aegon leaned in his seat, speaking closer to you. ‘’Would you like me to show you how to truly do it, properly?’’

You were most certain that you should not be doing this, but going back to the brothel was not a possibility at the moment. It was likely closed during the daytime and, although Helaena was a woman, you doubted she could be of help.

Aegon stood and pulled you with him, guiding you to his bed. ‘’Lay down. Make yourself comfortable.’’

You scooted back until you hit the pillows, glaring at the sheet when your foot got stuck in it. If Aegon would make his bed in the mornings, it would not have happened.

Once you were settled, he pulled your dress up, letting the layers bunch at your hips and pushed your legs apart. You were completely exposed to him, and rather than feeling uncomfortable under your uncle’s gaze, you spread yourself wider, desperate to feel good.

‘’Gods,’’ Aegon growled under his breath. His hand gently rubbed your inner thigh, caressing your soft skin. ‘’You have one magnificent cunny, dear niece.’’ He moved his hand up the inside of your thigh, gently playing with your soft sparse hair there, almost teasingly. ‘’Makes me want to kiss it.’’

You whined, feeling a tinge of shyness at his compliment. ‘’Aegon…’’

‘’I mean it. I’ve seen a lot in my short life, but none ever compared.’’ He pressed his fingers firmly against you, making you mewl from the contact.

It felt different from your own fingers. More pleasurable.

Aegon kept up the circular motions, using a bit more pressure, as he watched your expression flicker with pleasure, your mouth open and eyebrows knitted as a moan slipped from your lips. He began swiping his thumb over your clit and it made you moan so loud anyone who was passing in the hallway must’ve heard.

Your reaction made Aegon chuckle, amused. He brought a finger over your lips, shushing you. ‘’If you do this again, you’re gonna alert one of the maids. We don't want that, do we?’’ He stroked a piece of your hair, looking at you like you were the most beautiful woman he laid his eyes on.

You shook your head. ‘’I-I’ll be quiet,’’ you promised.

‘’Now, I’m going to put my fingers inside of you,’’ he explained as two fingers slipped down and entered you, sinking between your folds.

You gasped and pushed your hips against Aegon’s hand, realizing this was exactly what you needed. ‘’Ahh, this feels so good.’’

Aegon’s smirk widened, his eyes darkening with desire as he felt your hips move against him. ‘’See, nothing is broken. You just needed uncle Aegon’s help.’’ He increased the pace a bit, his fingers moving rapidly as your breath came in short gasps and moans as your mind got lost in the sensations.

Your whole body was on fire, trembling by need as his thumb started rubbing your clit again. You felt the heat inside yourself intensify, you could feel the release you so desperately craved was building.

You whined, grabbing the sheets next to you. ‘’A-Aegon, something feels strange. I think— I think I’m going to pee.’’

You squeezed your eyes shut and focused on not wetting the bed. How embarrassing would that be?

‘’You’re not going to pee. Don’t worry.’’ Aegon continued his ministrations. ‘’This is good. This is exactly what you want.’’

‘’No. I’m going to pee, I’m going to—’’ You interrupted yourself as your back arched off the bed as your final release hit you, your hands fisting one of the pillows so hard you almost pierced a hole with your fingernails.

Aegon’s free hand covered your mouth just in time, muffling your cries while you rode out your pleasure on his hand.

⁂

You sat on your vanity chair while servants were cleaning up the aftermath of your bath. Your chamber smelled of lavender oil, which you poured into the water to help get a great night of sleep. The beds were luxurious in the Red Keep, but it lacked the comfort of home.

‘’Will it be all, Princess?’’ your handmaid asked after brushing your freshly washed hair.

You thanked her for her service. ‘’Yes. Thank you, Dyana.’’

‘’I will see you in the morning, Princess.’’

Dyana left your chambers, and you waited for the servants to do the same. You didn't want to press them, but you were impatient to watch them leave.

Once everyone was out, you laid on your bed and pulled up your nightgown.

At supper, you had sat across Aegon and your eyes had fallen on his hand holding his goblet of wine. Precisely his long, thick, and dexterous fingers. You knew it was sinful to have such thoughts during a family meal, but you had been unable to keep yourself from thinking about the intense pleasure Aegon's fingers brought you. You had to clamp your thighs under the table, feeling a needy ache in your cunny.

Your fingertips skimmed over your folds, and you let out a small moan. You've been waiting all evening to do that. Your index finger slipped down to the pearl Aegon touched this afternoon and you made small, soft circles around it. A jolt of pleasure went up your spine. That felt so good. You continued rubbing soft circles, causing arousal to leak down your cunny.

You ceased the attention to your clit and brought your middle finger down to your entrance, spreading your wetness before sinking your finger inside. A sweet moan echoed in the room, but you reminded yourself to be quiet. Always quiet.

Closing your eyes, you imagined Aegon slipping his long, thick fingers deep inside you. Your walls clenched down on your finger, and then you slipped in a second.

‘’Ah, Aegon.’’

Like the night prior, your fingers were too small to reach where you needed. Frowning in frustration, you searched around your chamber for something that resembled a finger. There was a forgotten spoon from when you had tea brought up — too small — and a wooden stick used to roll parchment paper — too big. Lastly, you saw your hairbrush on your vanity. Perfect. The handle of it was smooth, it shouldn’t hurt.

You wiped your fingers on the sheets and got up to grab it. You brought the hairbrush handle down to your cunny and paused. Although you were alone in your chamber, you couldn’t help but worry you would get in trouble if anyone found out about this. Shaking that thought, you cautiously pressed the handle to your hole, and steadily pushed it in. You felt your cunny squeezing and slighting bucking your hips at the brush.

The sensation was foreign, but not unpleasant. As you pressed the handle deeper, you let out a soft gasp, quickly covering your mouth with your free hand to stifle any more sounds. You moved the brush handle gently at first, allowing your body to adjust to the unfamiliar intrusion.

Your other hand moved back to your clit, resuming the soft circles that had felt so good before. The combined sensations were intense, sending waves of pleasure through you. Your breath was short and your eyes fluttered closed as you imagined Aegon with you, his fingers instead of the brush.

The handle moved in and out, your movements growing more urgent as tears formed at the corner of your eyes, overwhelmed by pleasure. Your hips rocked against it, whining needily as you felt the pressure building, your muscles tightening as you edged closer to climax. Your walls clenched around the handle, and with one final push, the pleasure overwhelmed you. Your body shook with the force of your orgasm, your back arching off the bed.

You stayed there for a moment, panting and trembling, the handle still inside you. That felt… You couldn’t find any words to describe it.

Slowly, you pulled the hairbrush out, and placed it on the bed. Its handle was coated with your slick but you didn’t bother to clean it, pulling the covers over your body and drifting to sleep.

⁂

‘’Good morrow, Uncle,’’ you greeted, crossing paths with Aemond in the halls of the Red Keep after breaking fast.

Aemond gave you a short nod. ‘’Good morrow, Princess.’’

‘’Are you heading to the dragonpit?’’ you asked, noting the faint scent of smoke clinging to his black leather riding doublet.

‘’No. Returning, actually.’’

A pout formed on your lips, disappointed. ‘’That's unfortunate. I was heading there and hoping we could go together. I would go with Aegon, but he is not a morning person, as you know.’’

‘’We could go in the morrow after breaking fast?’’ Aemond suggested, watching as a smile lit your face.

⁂

Just as you were about to seek servants and ask them to prepare you a bath, Aegon knocked on your door and asked if you wanted to join him for another night in the city. He didn’t have any friends to accompany him, and Aemond was too much of a prude to go to brothels. Although you were younger, you didn’t have a stick up your ass.

On the way, Aegon dropped a few gold coins and got you sweets from a street baker. He wiped the cherry glaze on your lips with his thumb, sucking it into his mouth.

You sat at a table and indulged in wine amongst the men. Around you, women were dancing in their smallest clothes, entertaining the customers inside the brothel. Beside you, Aegon watched the curious fascination on your face while sipping his wine, pleased to see you were having fun. He made sure to drink enough to relax, but not too much he wouldn’t be able to keep an eye out.

When you finished your cup, Aegon rose to his feet and took you to the back of the brothel. Excitement was bubbling in your stomach, hearing the sounds of pleasure coming from men and women behind each of the curtains.

As you entered one of the rooms, a woman came up to Aegon and begged to suck his cock for free, desperately wanting a taste of the prince. She was only wearing a piece of cloth tied into a skirt, her small breasts and pointy nipples bared to all.

‘’Watch and learn, little one. Your future husband will enjoy this,’’ Aegon said with a wink.

He shoved his breeches down, exposing his surprisingly large cock to everyone in the room. You stared at it with wide eyes. Were all the cocks big? You peaked around you, searching for comparisons, but nothing seemed to come close.

When you drew your eyes back to your uncle, the woman was kneeling before Aegon, his cock already in her mouth. The action surprised you, but you took notes and watched as she bobbed her head down his shaft, sucking and slurping as spit dribbled from her mouth. Your eyes flickered to Aegon, who was groaning, taking pleasure from the woman’s mouth.

‘’Agh, fuck,’’ he slurred, his head slightly back. ‘’That mouth is made to suck cocks!’’

On the ground, the woman looked satisfied to please him. She moaned as Aegon grabbed a fistful of her hair and forced himself deeper into her mouth, groaning obscenely until he released his semen down her throat. Some spilled from her lips, but Aegon didn’t wipe it off like he did with the cherry glaze. He pushed her off him and re-dressed himself.

‘’Do all men enjoy this?’’ you asked.

He chuckled softly before responding. His eyes met your wide, curious gaze. ‘’Oh yes, most men enjoy it very much. Now, would you like another cup of wine?’’

You smiled. ‘’Please.’’

You sat on a couch by yourself, waiting for Aegon’s return. Before you, a woman was getting her cunny pounded by a bearded man. She moaned loudly, grabbing at her nipples. The sight made you think of the hairbrush you had inserted in yourself last night. It had filled you up nicely, but you couldn’t help but wonder how delightful a cock must feel.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice the man who approached you until he grabbed your hand and placed it on his cock. You froze, a bewildered look on your face. He said something, but you couldn’t hear it, too focused on how clammy and hairy he felt. You tried to retract your hand, but he gripped it tightly, forcing you to rub him.

The Gods must have heard your prayers because Aegon returned with the wine and saw what was happening. His jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed in anger. He quickly stepped in, his presence commanding attention.

‘’Let go of her or I’ll cut your fucking cock,’’ he threatened through clenched teeth, his hand on the dagger tucked into his belt. His voice was low and deadly, leaving no doubt that he meant every word.

The man’s eyes widened in surprise when he heard Aegon, and his grip on your hand loosened enough for you to slip away. You wiped it on the skirt of your dress, trying to erase the feeling of the stranger’s cock. Washing them with soap and water would have been better, but there was no bassin to do so.

‘’I-I apologize, my prince. I did not know the whore was yours—’’ the man stuttered, making excuses, but Aegon didn’t want to hear them.

He grabbed his shoulder and pinned him against the wall, bringing the dagger to his throat. The man's eyes widened further as the dagger's blade pressed against his skin, fear flashing on his face. ‘’She’s not a fucking whore,’’ Aegon’s voice was low and dangerous, his eyes burning with rage.

The man swallowed hard. ‘’I-I apologize again, my prince. I meant no disrespect.’’

Aegon took a step closer, the dagger still at the man's throat. ‘’Don’t. Touch. Her. Again.’’ He looked down at his manly parts, then back at his face. ‘’Unless you want to lose your little cock.’’

⁂

The journey back to the Red Keep was silent. Aegon's grip on your hand was tight, his knuckles white from the tension. He was fuming, his eyes still narrowed in anger, his mind clearly still consumed by anger from the incident at the brothel. He kept you close, his gaze scanning the surroundings to ensure no one else tried to approach you.

When you finally reached the safety of the castle, he stopped in his tracks and turned to you. Guilt was consuming him. What happened was his fault. If he hadn’t left your side, this man would not have forced your delicate hand on his filthy cock.

Aegon opened his mouth to speak, then shook his head. He walked past you, abandoning you in the secret passages.

—

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#aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon the second #king aegon #house of the dragon #hotd #aegon targaryen #aegon the elder #house targaryen

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makoodles · 1 year ago

Note

I would give anything to know Ghost’s inner monologue during any part of the last fic you posted. Is he purposefully getting into her space at the beginning (because we all know Ghost is too aware of his body and his trauma to accidentally touch anyone, let along have his entire side against them)? When he walks in does he just blue-screen, is that why he doesn’t immediately leave? What is he thinking when he sees our wet cunt still stuffed? When he finds out no one has touched us that way, or made us cum? When we want him to fuck us so badly we beg him to do it raw? Does his heart break a little when he heard us say we thought he left us, while we were so vulnerable and still dirty? Is he also freaking out about the fraternization stuff, or has he decided that we are his in the same way that he is ours, and Price will just have to cover up another damn thing for his team?

yes to all of this

(a little drabble part 2 to this)

Ghost has a little habit, when you're concerned. He's usually hyper-aware of his body and his limbs and where he's touching, what's around and beside and behind him. His skin itches sometimes when he's touched without warning, though he always hides his reactions. But with you... he's not so careful. He lets his legs spread, his arms stretch, lets himself crowd into your space. There's something intoxicating about the way that you let him, the way you never lean away from him. You're just so soft, so warm, always letting him infringe on your space with a sweet little smile as though you're happy to see him. You're one of the rare people who are happy to see him, and it makes something uncomfortably warm wriggle in his belly.

So yeah, he leans into you when he sits next you in the rec room. It's mostly muscle memory, because you've never minded before. But today, you're a little tense. Ghost knows you, knows you well. He can see the way your spine is a little stiff, the way your eyes are a little glassy as you stare off into the distance. You look a little... ruffled. Ghost watches you carefully out of the corner of his eye, probes a little, but backs off when you dance around his question. He's knows boundaries well, and he won't push yours. Even if he thinks it's... strange that you leave so quickly, eyes averted.

Finding your phone wedged into the seat after you left was like an opportunity. Simon Riley has never had much, he's always made do, and yet he's admittedly greedy when it comes to you. He's not often a selfish man - he's never had enough to be selfish about - and yet he's hungry for your time, your smiles, your touch. And you're always so generous with yourself, so he doesn't second-guess his decision to follow you down the hall to your quarters. He's never been there before, and he wants to see your space, hungry for any shred of you he can get.

He should have knocked. It was rude not to. But he's so, so fucking glad he didn't.

He's a little rough when he opens your door, a little too eager to get into the room and see your pretty grateful smile when he gives you your phone back. But when he gets that door open, sees the sight of you on your back among your sheets, legs spread, head back, eyes fluttered closed, his mind goes fucking blank.

He watches you scramble, watches the mortification flash across your face as you attempt to shut your adorable little pink vibrator off as you shut your legs, depriving him of the prettiest view he's ever seen. Ghost is not a man with a weakness for pretty things, but it seems only natural that you're the exception, you and your pretty wet puffy pussy.

He hardly even knows what happens, his fingers and toes numb and his attention narrowed down to you, only you. Before he knows it, he's sitting on your bed, feeling enormous and ungainly next to you as you stare up at him. He reaches out, his big hands scarred and ugly against your pretty skin when he holds your vibrator, his blood buzzing at the thought that this had been inside you mere moments ago.

He never thought he'd be envious of a piece of fucking plastic, but here he is. A big man, a deadly soldier, reduced to a fool at your bedside. And yet, you don't even seem to notice. You're so good, so sweet, parting your legs when he asks you to and letting him look.

He asks you to finish. It's bold, and stupid, and greedy. He wants to see you come - he already knows it'll be the prettiest thing he's ever seen, that it'll be seared in his mind forever. In this moment, he thinks he'd do anything just to watch your eyes roll back, your face go slack, to hear the pretty little noises he knows you'll make.

It escalates faster than he could have imagined. Such a sweet thing, laying back and showing him how you use your vibrator. And he watches eagerly, his breath catching at the realisation that this is how you play with yourself when you're alone. You're clumsy about it, which is absolutely adorable.

But then you make a confession, and Ghost thinks he might be spiralling. You've never been touched, never been fucked, never come. It feels like an outrage. He thinks of how tense you'd been earlier, shifting beside him in your blue jeans, and he just thinks... what the fuck? Prettiest girl he's ever seen, and you don't even know how to touch your own cunt properly? He wants to show you, more than anything he's ever wanted before. Greedy. You make him so greedy.

"Let me try."

He's between your legs before he even knows how he got there, pulling your stupid little vibrator out so he can replace it with his fingers. And if he thought he was greedy, he soon finds that he's well-matched when it comes to you. You're just as eager, just as hungry. Spreading your legs and whimpering, all those sweet, sweet noises that spill out of your mouth, just like he knew they would.

You have the prettiest cunt he's ever seen. Pretty, slick, swollen, just as hungry as the rest of you. He alternates between his fingers and his mouth and your little dildo, a little drunk on your taste and your soft thighs when they squeeze around his head. He kisses you too, because he can't help himself. Greedy.

He's never been a chatty man, but his cock is so hard now and he knows his mouth is running. He can't help himself. Your salty-sweet slick on his tongue has loosened it; he barely even knows what he's saying, or what he's promising, but by god he's going to live up to it.

Then, your lovely sweet voice, all breathless and pitchy, asking “Can I try yours?”

Not only that, you beg. You plead with him to fuck you, to do it raw, as if he was ever going to say no. As if he'd ever be strong enough to say no. He can hardly handle hearing you beg like that; he feels as though he's going to blow before he even gets his cock inside you.

In his wildest dreams, he never imagined you so needy. You writhe, you're soaked, you make the most heart-stopping little noises deep in your throat when he presses inside. You're so hot and wet and tight that it feels as though you're about to squeeze his cock right off, and he tries so hard to feed it to you slow, to give you time to take him. You're so good, taking him even though you struggle a little. He's not a small man, certainly not an easy man to take inside of you for your very first time, but it's a testament to how slick and eager you are that he slides in with minimal effort.

After that, he loses himself. Hardly even knows what's he's doing, working based on pure instinct, filling and fucking you until he's losing his breath. God, you're beautiful, and he clenches his jaw hard to bite back his orgasm - he has to focus on you, only you while the tears are streaming down your pretty face as you gasp and cry for him.

He can see your orgasm creeping up on you before you recognise it yourself. When it hits you, it's a whole body event. Your back arches, legs spasm, stomach trembles, eyes roll back. Your cunt clenches down so fucking tight that it's a little bit painful. Simon doesn't dare blink - he's never going to fucking forget this. Your very first orgasm, and you're experiencing it on the end of his cock.

He loses it a little after that, his thoughts fizzing and slipping from his grasp as he loses his coordination. By the time he comes inside of you, cock throbbing and skin tightening, he's already decided that he's going to have to make you come again. Once isn't enough, not for someone as hungry as him. Or you.

He thinks he might have fucked you stupid. Your eyelids are fluttering and your lips are parted, but you're a little bit dead to the world. It's cute. He feels his pride swell, smug at the thought that he's fucked you so good that he's sent you reeling off into dreamworld.

He leaves, only for a moment, unable to be away from you for too long. He just wants to get a cloth, something to wipe you off with to make you all clean and fresh again. You're already awake when he comes back, though you're still hazy and clumsy and all teary-eyed.

He's happy to wipe you clean, despite your quiet mewling complaints, and then he hauls himself into your bed just so he can curve his big-ass body around your smaller one, relishing your sweet softness. God, he's wanted to hold you like this forever, but he's still a little nervous about hurting you. Killing and maiming and hurting have been the only things he's been really good at his whole life, and he's irrationally fearful of moving wrong and hurting you, even after the sex. Or maybe especially after the sex.

He can see your brow crease, the uncertainty in your eyes. He realises you're probably a little uncertain about where you stand with him, or what this is. That's fair. Simon has never been the most demonstrative man, but he's also been the type to cling on like a tick to the things he values, the things he wants to keep safe. He holds you, checking his strength, proud to be able to keep you safe in his arms.

He's going to make sure that you don't worry about it either. Your hair smells sweet, your skin is so warm, and your ass is so soft where it's pressed against his crotch. He's reaching for you before he can think about it, and his heart pulses hard when you spread your legs for him so easily. God, he's gonna ruin you. Just like he promised.

#asks #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod smut #drabble

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stuckinmymind22 · 13 days ago

Text

you say "i love you" first

ft: zoro, sanji, robin, ace, and shanks

gn!reader (minus zoro, sorry), mostly fluff, mostly sfw (shanks is a little bit explicit)

a/n: i just think this is cute idk

zoro

you say it first and he kisses you instead of saying it back, that leads somewhere and he’s more tender than usual and you know that is him saying “i love you too” finally says it back after several days when you’re alone and he mumbles it, you aren’t sure that you heard him so you ask him what and he comes and whispers in your ear “i said, i love you, woman” don't expect him to say it often though, the words from him are rare, no matter how many times you tell him that you love him. instead, zoro shows his love in his actions, one time he pulled out your chair for you at dinner and didn't say anything about it (was kinda awkward with it tbh), but the rest of the crew poked fun at him. he somehow always knows when there is something wrong with you, and although not the most emotionally aware he will listen to any of your problems as you talk through your emotions

sanji

he has definitely said it way too early in the relationship, said it a bunch then as you got serious he slowly stopped saying it bc now the words meant more/had more weight and he didn't want to scare you off when you do say it, immediate nose bleed, nearly cries, says it back right away. now that you said it this man is going to make declarations of love at least once a day, somehow he never repeats himself. would probably scream it from the mountain tops if he could tbfh

robin

she’s really confused, not that she doesn’t love you back but more in the “how could anyone love me” type of way. she remains speechless for far longer than you would like, when she does speak again it's to tell you that she isn't quite ready to say it back. naturally, you're devastated by this and you start to distance yourself a bit. that ends up being what she needed to admit her feelings. she probably tries her best to make some romantic gesture maybe just flowers or maybe she gets sanji (ever the simp) to make your favorite dinner. she's the type to be real quiet about her love, not to say that her love for you is unnoticed by outsiders, but she is not going out of her way to make it known like sanji

ace

you guys say it at the exact same time both of you are like awesome. he says it at the most random times, sometimes walking up to you while you are in a conversation to whisper "i love you" in your ear. he adores the way that those words always bring a massive smile to your face he's still a little insecure about himself, but each time you tell him you love him he starts to get more and more confident. he starts to become attached to your side (gets made fun of for it but he doesn't care), not that he wasn't before, but this was more

shanks

takes a while for feelings to develop beyond sexual (you both went in thinking it was just a hookup and that it was all it would ever be) it starts to become clearer that you both are in too deep. neither of you want to ruin what you have so you stay silent about it for far too long once, after you had sex, you bring yourself to admit it, completely out of breath. he’s lowkey stunned, doesn’t really know what to say, says “thank you doll” of course you get mad and he’s like “what i just said thank you, you know i love you too” and you’re like "i mean i figured but it would’ve been nice to hear 🙄" never being bothered by pda, he starts to become more brazen in his displays of affection, sometimes catching you as you walk by to pull you into his lap, regardless of who is around

here's the sequel (they say "i love you first")

#one piece x reader #one piece x you #gn reader #zoro x reader #sanji x reader #nico robin x reader #shanks x reader #ace x reader #portgas d ace #roronoa zoro #zoro #black leg sanji #sanji #shanks #one piece #one piece headcanons

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danveration · 10 months ago

Text

That no-good-first-man-on-earth

Parings: Alastor x reader

Summary: Alastor opens up to you (kinda). You confront him about his cane being gone, asking what happened after the early extermination attack.

Word count: (Around) 1154

Warnings: Mention of Adam dying, mention of death, mention of Al taking someone’s soul, ummm.. yes I think that’s about it!

A/N: YES I MADE IT !! the ending might be a bit rusty but I hope you enjoy it nevertheless! :’)

It was a week or two after the early extermination attack. The hotel has gotten a bit more residents and attention due to Charlie and the original residents protecting hell and successfully winning. The hotel has gotten an upgrade, that’s for sure. Lucifer now approves of its looks, so that says something.

During the attack you noticed how Alastor disappeared for a while and came back when it was all over. It made you question what happened when he went up against Adam. He was fine, physically. But you noticed something in his eyes that changed. Of course, he still smiles the same as before.. but it doesn’t always seem like he wants to. But the biggest, most obvious thing you noticed is that his staff/cane is gone. Nobody really seemed to question it but it set off an alarm in your brain because, well, he always has it on him.

You’re currently sitting in one of the lounge chairs in the lobby of the hotel, when you see Alastor confidently stroll in. He gives the lobby a quick look all around to see who’s all in there. In which, right now it’s just you.

“Hello, my dear!” He says, smiling and starts walking towards you.

“I must say, it’s rare that it’s empty in this area. Peace and quiet is often something I don’t have the luxury in experiencing, especially now that the hotel has gotten the attention that Charlie desperately craved.” He laughs.

He’s now standing beside you. You look up and smile back at him.

“Yeah, I’m happy for her though. She seems very overwhelmed, you know? But in a good way.” You say.

“Mm yes, she does, doesn’t she?”

You want to bring up how he doesn’t have his cane anymore, but you don’t know exactly how he’ll react. Though, he hasn’t ever snapped at you so you think it won’t be bad. Knowing him, he’ll probably just avoid the question by saying, “that’s for me to know.” As he does whenever someone brings up why he was absent for 7 years.

“Hey, Al?” You say, looking at him.

He raises his brow in question.

“Hm? What is it, dear?” He asks.

“I have a question.. you totally don’t need to tell me but I’ve just noticed that your um.. cane? You don’t have it anymore.”

You notice as you bring it up, Alastor tenses up and smiles more, darting his eyes away from you. You can feel that this was something he didn’t think you’d bring up.

He doesn’t seem to be saying anything, so you continue. “I was just wondering.. why is that? You usually keep it on you at all times. And also I’ve noticed that you’ve been a bit different since-“ You are stopped suddenly by Alastor using his shadow magic to teleport the two of you to his room.

You are caught by surprise, looking around disoriented, but than you realize where you are.

“Uhm- Al?” You question.

You assume he took you two to his room because he didn’t want anyone to hear the conversation, so you don’t question it. Which makes sense, he doesn’t want anyone else questioning his motives.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He opens his eyes and looks at you. “That is for me to know.” He says in a neutral tone.

Wow such a surprising statement.

“I knew you’d say that. Listen, you know you can talk to me, right? I’m here for you.” You assure him.

He looks at you weirdly, as if he is waiting for the joke line to happen. But it doesn’t. You care for him. That’s definitely new. Sure, Alastor has friends. Or, acquaintances, as he calls it. But you seem to deeply care for him and what happened.

He isn’t sure exactly how to react. “How amusing! That’s very kind of you.” He says and chuckles. You notice something in his eyes that doesn’t align with the emotion he is trying to project.

“Alastor, I’m serious. You don’t need to put on a show for me.. I want to know the real you.” You say, looking at him.

He debates if he should continue with his charades, but knows you’ll just see past it. He never ever would be this laid-back with anyone else accusing him of “putting on a show” or accusing him of having alternative feelings. He would’ve surely taken their soul or.. well, killed them by now. But you and his relationship has always been good. You guys always chat about whatever nonsense comes to mind, he showed you around the place where he records his radio broadcasts, and even let you attended once. He always had a soft spot for you. You never had a fear of him and never liked it when Husk or other people badmouthed him. He once caught you ranting to Niffty about how much you adored him. It made him smile.

Alastor squints his eyes and thinks of what to say.

“Well, my dear. You know that no-good-first-man-on-earth? Adam, I believe his name was.” He emphasizes the word “was,” seemingly to be very happy and satisfied now that he’s dead. He laughs continues, “he used his no-good angelic waves to break in half!” He says.

You’re in shock. Not because you thought his cane was indestructible or anything. It was because he actually told you what happened. You guess he trusts you more than he lets on.

“Oh..” You look at him sympathetically. “I’m so sorry, Alastor.”

“Mm, yes. Me too. But no worries, dear. I can live without it.” He says trying to cover up the fact that he cares quite a lot.

Without thinking, you place a hand on his arm trying to give him comfort. He slowly moves his head to look at your hand. He doesn’t mind one bit, in fact, he feels the complete opposite of how he usual feels when people try to touch him.

You quickly remember he doesn’t like physical touch very much, so you move to pull away.

“No.” He says quickly.

You’re confused and question what he means.

“No, what?”

Your hand on his arm felt like a new sensation he hasn’t felt before. He quickly became embarrassed of his sudden outburst decline of you not taking his hand on his arm.

Something inside him snaps and his persona cracks, and he then does something that you’ve never expect.

He hugs you.

Your heart feels warm and you have butterflies in your stomach. THE Alastor, the radio demon is hugging you. You don’t see him as those labels though. You see him as HIM.

Despite your incredible shock in what is happening, you hug him back, wrapping your arms around his suit jacket.

“I do apologize.” He mumbles while hugging you.

“You don’t have to apologize, Alastor. This is what I wanted. For you to open up.” You say softly and smile.

He doesn’t pull away yet, and you don’t mind one bit.

A/N: IM THINKING OF MAKING A PART TWO WHERE THE READER MAKES HIM ANOTHER CANE AS A SURPRISE. LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!!!!

#:alastor #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #the radio demon x reader #alastor altruist #alastor imagine #alastor x reader hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x you #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor episode 8 #my works #alastor fluff

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pastanest · 5 months ago

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Spencer Reid x she/her!reader

A/N: me posting twice in the same month?? someone do a welfare check

warning: age gap mentioned (bc I’m a slut) but not extensively or in a weird way bc Spencer’s not a pervert lol

Moth To A Flame

Closing the bathroom door with your own back, you slide down it until you’re sitting on the floor, bringing your knees to your chest and taking a shaky breath. You shouldn’t call him while crying, you know better than that, but you know your own tells enough to hope you can mask them; a futile effort considering who you intend to call at 3am.

Lifting your phone to your ear, you hear it ring no more than twice before your prayers are answered, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

“Hey, Spencer.” You greet him quietly, smiling from just saying his name.

“Hi, sunshine. How are you?” Spencer’s voice is calm and collected, but it’s clear through the phone he’s delighted to hear from you.

There’s no question raised regarding the time at which you’re calling. But no matter how many times this happens, Spencer always enquires after your wellbeing.

“I’m okay, thank you. Just…you know. How are you?” The question is returned, though neither of you are a fan of small talk.

“Yes,” Spencer responds specifically to the insinuation he knows, because he does. Then, he continues, “-I’m well, too, thank you.”

His words, and what goes left unsaid, makes your smile grow.

“What’re you reading?” You ask, and the quiet chuckle you hear from Spencer is enough to prove you right in your assumption of his reason for being awake at this hour.

“Pride And Prejudice. How did you know I was reading?” He wonders aloud with a fondness in his voice that he reserves only for you.

“When aren’t you reading?” You roll your eyes playfully, and Spencer can practically hear it.

“When I’m sleeping.” He quips, his own smile evident in his voice.

It’s enough to have you laughing softly into the phone, which only serves to make Spencer’s smile grow.

“Read me some?” You request quietly.

Like you ever need to ask.

Spencer clears his throat into the phone.

“After a silence of several minutes, he came towards her in an agitated manner, and thus began, ‘In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.’ Elizabeth's astonishment was beyond expression. She stared, coloured, doubted, and was silent. This he considered sufficient encouragement, and the avowal of all that he felt and had long felt for her immediately followed. He spoke well, but there were feelings besides those of the heart to be detailed, and he was not more eloquent on the subject of tenderness…” Spencer reads aloud, and the smile on your face is almost as soft as his voice sounds through the phone.

By the end of the chapter, your eyes have drifted closed and your head is tipped back against the bathroom door behind you. Hearing how calm your breathing has become, Spencer pauses, and you hear him close the book.

“See you in the morning?” He always asks because on the rare chance you’ll say no, at least he has time to mentally prepare for your absence. Tonight is not the night for that.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow…Thank you.” You reply, already feeling close to sleep.

This stumps Spencer momentarily, and he falters before he replies, “For what?”

And there’s only one thing you can say to that.

“Being you.”

Spencer chuckles sheepishly, “I don’t know how to be anyone else.”

Of course he doesn’t. Perhaps, if he was anyone else, you’d stand a chance.

“Goodnight, Spencer.” You tell him gently.

“Goodnight, sunshine.” There’s a second of warm silence as you savor the sound of each other’s quiet breathing, and then you both hang up the call.

Standing up from where you’d been sitting on the bathroom floor, you take another deep breath before reaching for the door handle. Walking through a house that isn’t yours, into a living room where the sound of snoring from the couch makes you want to tear your hair out, past a kitchen where a cheap measly pile of four red roses lie limp on the counter with a post-it note in place of any kind of meaningful card, up the staircase where framed photographs filled with eyes that aren’t on your side stare down at you judgmentally, until you’re safely confined in the bedroom you feel doomed to. Crawling into your side of the bed, you adjust the pillows that occupy the other side, filling the space in a shape long enough to resemble the shape of someone under your bedcovers. And with Spencer’s voice still in your ears wishing you a good night, you close your eyes and drift off to sleep.

Meanwhile, Spencer adjusts his alarm clock to wake him an hour earlier than necessary, and awakens from a peaceful slumber with a determined mission in mind. Once his normal morning routine is complete, instead of driving to the office, he drives to his preferred florist, who greets him with a knowing smile when Spencer walks in.

“Another dozen?” The florist guesses.

“Please.” Spencer nods, smiling politely.

Retrieving his wallet from his back pocket, Spencer pays for the flowers and graciously thanks the florist, taking the flowers and then leaving the establishment to return to his car. He drives back home, placing the dozen flowers in a glass vase that he keeps pristine for this very purpose, with the perfect level of water for optimal growth for this specific species of flower. Very carefully, Spencer inspects them until he determines which has the prettiest bloom today, and that is the one he elects to remove from the vase, carefully securing its stem in seran wrap and placing it in the pocket of his suit jacket, then continuing on his normal journey into work.

Purposely, Spencer arrives earlier than the rest of the team, so that he can execute his plan without interruptions. From the staff kitchen, he chooses the most elegant looking glass he can find and again pours the perfect level of water - this time for just one flower, specifically - unwrapping the single bloom in his suit jacket and setting in the glass. He then walks to your desk and positions it in an aesthetically pleasing location, but already knows it is not enough. The picture is not complete. It must be perfect for you. Briefly visiting his own desk, Spencer opens the drawer to take a piece of his own parchment paper, from which he cuts a small section that he then folds in half. On what appears to be the front of the folded piece, he maps out a constellation in a dot-to-dot sketch, then inside the fold of paper, he writes the story behind it. After several attempts, Spencer finds the perfect angle at which to place the folded piece of paper next to the flower on the desk, and only then does he return to his usual morning routine of making himself a coffee in the staff kitchen. Counting down the minutes.

By the time you get to the office, you’ve pushed the thoughts of your home from your mind and have a bright smile on your face, looking forward to a day spent working with your friends and not thinking about-

“(Y/N)! I just saw! He got you roses! That’s SO cute! You have, like, the best boyfriend!” Penelope squeals as she runs up to you the very second you walk through the glass doors of the bullpen.

Your heart sinks and your eyebrows furrow.

“You saw?”

Penelope nods excitedly, gesturing to her phone, where she shows you the post your boyfriend had made on social media: a picture he had taken of the four red roses he’d bought you that he filtered to high heaven to make them look more grand than they were, with a caption that said ‘happy four and many more, babe x’. If it weren’t for the sake of keeping your business private - something he clearly cares for about as much as he does you - you’d scoff.

“Oh, yeah. Must’ve missed that he posted that.” You plaster a smile on your face that doesn’t reach your eyes, walking side by side with Penelope towards your desk.

“It was your four year anniversary, right? Did you do anything fancy?” She’s giddy on your behalf.

“No, just had a quiet night in.” You provide an excuse, the most generous blanket statement you could have given to the shambles that were your boyfriend’s anniversary plans.

Your dejectedness, however, is abruptly cut short when your gaze lands on your desk. A single bloom of your favorite flower, with a neatly folded handwritten note of a constellation placed next to it. In a microsecond, you’re turning to where Spencer sits at his desk, hiding his smirk behind his cup of coffee.

“You didn’t!” You feign chastisement, but your giddiness is obvious.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Spencer shrugs, his smile as obvious as yours is.

You’re practically bouncing on the spot when you bring the little glass and the delicate flower within to your face to breathe in the sweet scent.

“These aren’t even in season anymore, Spencer, how did you-“

The question is cut short by a magician who never reveals his secrets.

“I played no part in this, but perhaps someone happens to know somebody else who is equipped to grow them on request.” There’s a teasing lilt to his otherwise matter-of-fact tone, and you are shaking your head in absolute disbelief.

Setting the glass back down on your desk, you pick up the constellation, admiring it carefully before folding it and placing it in your desk drawer, in amongst another 30-something hand drawn constellations. The smile is still lingering on your face when you sit down at your desk, and from where Spencer sits at his, his chest feels warm. So much joy from you at the cost of only an hour’s less sleep and a few more dollars than the asking price of your favorite flowers. Perhaps, tonight you won’t call him trying to hide that you’d been crying again, he hopes. Whether that comes to fruition or not, he has another eleven blooms waiting in his apartment to gift you at random intervals to surprise you and keep your tears at bay for as long as he can, without you ever telling him there was a chance of them falling. He knows.

For the rest of the day, Spencer catches you glancing at the flower on your desk while you work through various reports and paperwork, an almost shy smile lighting up your face every time you see it there.

It’s only when the team begins packing up for the day that Spencer thinks to look into what Penelope had referenced that morning- a post of some kind? Easily enough, Spencer finds your boyfriend’s social media on his computer, and what he discovers makes him borderline violent. Four years together, encompassed by four measly roses and what you called a ‘quiet night in’ that was so beyond underwhelming you ended your evening by calling Spencer from your bathroom. A celebration of that scale warranted only four red roses, while the mere hint you’d been crying was enough for Spencer to visit the florist he pays specifically to keep growing your favorite flowers for you, to buy another dozen that he intends to deliver to you one by one at irregular intervals. Still, it isn’t Spencer’s job to compensate for what is clearly absent from your relationship; at least, not consciously.

“Babe!” A voice calls out that has Spencer using every ounce of strength he possesses to withhold from rolling his eyes. Shutting down his computer, he stands from his desk just in time to see your expression fall where you pack away your things at your own desk.

Turning to face your boyfriend, you give him a tight-lipped smile.

“Hey, what’re you doing here?” You ask shortly.

Excellent question, Spencer thinks.

“Just came to surprise you and drive you home!” Your boyfriend exclaims like it’s some kind of achievement, opening his arms in a big gesture as he approaches your desk.

How considerate, ambushing you at your workplace under the guise of it being a nice surprise, Spencer scoffs internally, deliberately slowing the pace at which he readies his satchel to leave the office.

“Oh. Thanks.” You don’t know what else to say. “I’ll be ready in a second.” You add, feeling like you’re defaulting to basic lines of dialogue to avoid awkward silences.

“Great!” Your boyfriend exclaims, looking around the bullpen like he’s never seen the place before - he has, twice, and Spencer wishes his eidetic memory would allow him to erase the memory of your discomfort during both instances - until his eyes land on a face he recognises, and he grins.

“Spencer! My man!” Your boyfriend yells, and your eyes widen as you watch him walk right over to Spencer and pull him into a bro-hug that immediately has Spencer rigidly uncomfortable.

“I’ve told you-“ You implore, shooting Spencer an apologetic and pleading look before your boyfriend starts talking over you.

“Oh yeah! Sorry, man, forgot you’re weird about touching people.” He laughs, throwing his hands up in mock surrender.

You scowl, parting your lips to bite his head off, but Spencer steps in to prevent you from saying something that’ll only cause more arguments for you when you go home.

“I have an acute awareness and disliking towards unfamiliar germs and contact.” Spencer corrects your boyfriend firmly, aware that only you and him realize what he means by a germ in this context.

“Yeah, man, no worries.” Your boyfriend laughs, like he’s the funniest man in the world to himself. “Ready to go, babe?” He asks you.

“Mhmm.” Another tight-lipped smile, and that’s apparently convincing enough for your boyfriend, who wraps an arm around your waist in a careless action rather than something that should be treasured, and would be treasured by the man you look over your shoulder to give one last apologetic expression to.

That is, until Emily steps out of her office and calls over to you, “Don’t forget about Rossi’s party!”

And you literally wince.

“A party?! Oh man! Can’t wait! Thanks, Emmers!” Your boyfriend answers for you, regarding a party you had deliberately neglected to mention to him, and then he’s all but dragging you out of the office.

Once out of earshot, Spencer actually does scoff.

“Emmers?” Emily asks him with a frown from where she stands on the raised walkway, leaning on the railing.

“A shocking breach of social etiquette to assume a nickname for someone he barely knows.” Spencer clarifies, to which Emily nods.

“You still not coming to Rossi’s tonight?” She elects to ask him, a smile curling at the corner of her mouth.

Spencer sighs heavily. He looks down at his desk, then lifts his head to look over at the elevator doors closing, snatching the view of you away. He knows what will happen tonight. He knows.

The mirror stares back at him. If someone told Spencer a year ago that he’d be attending a work related get together he’d initially rejected the invitation of but went back on himself solely in the hopes that his suit of choice would impress a coworker just over half his age who has a boyfriend, Spencer would have walked right out of prison and requested a psych eval. Still, the thought at the forefront of his mind is that 6 months and 8 days ago he had worn an all-black suit on a case that you had complimented. It is a foolish dream to think you would compliment him for it again, but for you, Doctor Spencer Reid is a proud fool.

Much to your own embarrassment, you and your boyfriend knock at Rossi’s door an hour late, and based on your expression it is not difficult for Spencer to deduce it’s not your fault. Or, it wouldn’t have been difficult if his brain hadn’t short-circuited at the sight of you wearing a thin strapped, floor length purple silk dress that hugged your every curve to the extent that when Spencer rose from his seat in a gentlemanly gesture at your entrance, his knees very nearly buckled beneath him to a position of worship. Your boyfriend’s arm is careless around your waist again, and he drops it not to pull your chair out for you at the table, but to bro-hug David Rossi, who looks at him like he spat in his bowl of pasta. In your disgruntled state, it takes you a second to acknowledge that Spencer is standing, and in between greeting the rest of the team, your eyes continually flit back to him, his heart skipping a beat each and every time in a way that only further convinces him he is in the midst of a medical emergency. Finally, your gaze lingers on him, and he doesn’t waste the opportunity.

“Can I get you a drink? Rossi’s minibar has some of your favorites.” Spencer gestures with the hand not holding his own drink, and without so much as looking to your plus one, you nod and walk around the table.

His large hand ghosts the small of your back, fingers flexing, but he doesn’t allow himself to make contact until he counts the microseconds to cross the distance that takes you both away from every other pair of eyes in this house. The heat of Spencer’s fingertips meet the purple silk of your dress, barely there, but oh, do you feel it.

Once safely standing at the minibar, Spencer only needs to watch your face to see which bottle your eyes light up at, and as soon as he notices, he pours you a glass without you having to ask. In a gesture that feels like a secret, the two of you clink your glasses together and lock eyes to take a simultaneous sip.

“Nice suit.” You nod at Spencer, a shy smile forming behind your glass.

“Thank you.” He tries not to choke on his drink, then nods back at you. “Pretty dress.”

You have to bite your lip to prevent your smile from growing any bigger.

“Thank you. The color reminded me of your scarf.” You remark quietly, and if you weren’t a profiler, you probably wouldn’t notice the almost imperceptible widening of Spencer’s eyes at your words.

“It is a similar shade.” He agrees, his heart in his throat.

Comfortable silence settles between you. Eyes locked, nursing your drinks, your free hands hanging idly at your sides. Standing just a little too close. Fingers almost touching.

“I’m sorry about earlier.” You say eventually.

Spencer shakes his head dismissively. “I appreciate it, but his oversights aren’t your responsibility.” Or your burden, he so badly wants to add.

You sigh. “If he overstepped the boundaries of a guy who was less of a man than you, he could’ve got his face caved in.”

And what a shame that would have been, Spencer muses in his own mind.

“I didn’t escalate the situation, but not because I’m a man- because it wasn’t a worthy cause.” He amends.

“So if there was a worthy cause, you’d have clocked him?” You giggle at the idea.

“Possibly.” Definitely, Spencer smirks.

“What constitutes a worthy cause in the mind of Doctor Spencer Reid?” You tease, tilting your head to look up at him with a curious twinkle in your eyes.

“If he made you cry.” Spencer chooses his words very carefully, and inspects every micro expression on your face in response.

Because your boyfriend has made you cry, you know that, and you know Spencer knows too, despite the fact you haven’t ever stated as such. He knows. All you’d have to do is say the word, and Spencer would walk right back into the dining room, grab your boyfriend by his collar in front of the entire team, drag him outside and beat him to a pulp in the street.

If Spencer wasn’t a profiler, he probably wouldn’t notice the almost imperceptible widening of your eyes at his words.

“Babe! There you are! Rossi’s served us up a couple plates of something with a name I can’t pronounce- Spencer! Hey, man!” Your boyfriend’s agitating, grating voice cuts into the peaceful bubble you and Spencer had been existing in.

Sharing an equally irritated glance, you both turn to face him.

“Linguine alla Puttanesca.” Spencer drawls.

“Yeah, something like that, for sure!” Your boyfriend laughs, loudly, and without you saying a word, his arm is thrown around your waist again, stealing you from Spencer - who trails behind with a scowl fixed on your boyfriend’s arm - and returning to the dining room.

At the table, you sit opposite Spencer, with your boyfriend sitting on your left. You’re grateful for the casual conversation in the room taking his attention away from you for the most part, allowing you the peace of eating without him saying something that makes you want to vomit.

“Been thinking of getting some sleeping pills myself, not been sleeping too good on the couch!”

Nevermind.

Your eyes close in a pained blink, and you lift your napkin with an unnecessarily firm grip to wipe at your mouth.

“Oh. You’ve not got…comfy cushions?” Penelope tries to save the conversation, but the awkward silence has already descended upon the table at your boyfriend’s blatant overshading at your expense.

“Nope, barely been sleeping a wink! I miss my own bed, I’ll tell you that!” Your boyfriend laughs.

Setting your napkin down, you keep your gaze fixed on your half empty plate. You can feel eyes on you. Everywhere.

“A dinner party with your partner’s friends is not the social setting for discussing your relationship.” Spencer quips, releasing enough tension in your chest to allow you a breath.

“Don’t worry, bro, she doesn’t mind!” Your boyfriend nudges you with his arm, and you are rigid.

“Nobody at this table requires a profiling skillset to determine that (Y/N) does mind.” Spencer’s protective nature is bristling.

“Oh yeah, bet you profilers can just look and tell exactly what her problem is, huh?!” Your boyfriend laughs. “Go on, guess!” He demands of the table, like he’s prepping a joke with the greatest punchline in human history.

The table is silent. You close your eyes in a pained blink, begging any god that may exist, please, please-

“She won’t sleep with me!” Your boyfriend roars with laughter, and time slows to an agonizing halt.

The only accompanying sounds are cutlery clattering against plates, then two chairs scraping against the floor.

“That’s enough. Get out.” Rossi points at the door.

“With pleasure.” Spencer’s tone is cool as ice. In a fraction of a second, he rounds the table, grabs your boyfriend by his collar and drags him out of Rossi’s dining room, to the front door.

While the rest of the team crowd around you to check you’re okay, you’re shaking your hand and scrambling to stand, running outside. Spencer’s fists grip your boyfriend’s collar, pinning him to the side of his car.

“-and if I ever find you within a five mile radius of her, I’ll ruin your life without breaking a single law.” He seethes.

“She’s barely even my girlfriend, man, she doesn’t even put out! You can have her!” Your ex boyfriend holds his hands up in surrender while signing his own death warrant.

Spencer’s right hook sends him hurtling against the sidewalk, and Spencer is on him in the blink of an eye. Trapping him under his legs, Spencer delivers punch after punch, hearing bones crack with the force but only seeing red, until Rossi and Luke physically pull him off, and even then he tries to fight past them to carry on.

“Kid, kid, take a breath- you got him!” Rossi gently pats Spencer’s back, and with wide eyes like a deer in headlights, you appear in front of him.

“Spencer.” You breathe his name with an unnamed emotion, reaching up to cup his face in your hands, and his glazed over eyes that hadn’t been able to look anywhere but the bloody mess on sidewalk, find you in an instant.

Emily is already calling in some favors with the local police department to get this resolved with minimal assault charges, if possible.

“C’mon, inside.” You tell Spencer gently, taking one of his trembling, bloody hands in yours and guiding him back into Rossi’s house.

Taking him past the dining room, you find the kitchen and lead Spencer to lean against the empty counter beside the sink. Very carefully, you hold both of his hands under the cold water to wash them free of blood. It doesn’t take you long to realize the blood doesn’t just come from your ex-boyfriend. He’s running on adrenaline, breathing heavily, half watching you and half watching the doorway, as if expecting someone else to walk in that he has to take out to protect you.

Once his hands are as clean as you can get them, you retrieve some ice packs from Rossi’s freezer and hold them to Spencer’s swollen, bloody knuckles. You can’t look away from them.

“Are you in any pain yet?” You ask in a small voice.

“None.” Spencer answers sharply, gaze fixed on the doorway now because he can keep you in his peripheral vision, mind locked in fight or flight mode with an obvious winner.

“This is all my fault, Spencer, I’m so sorry- if I’d have broken up with him…” Your forehead drops to Spencer’s chest, pressing against the fabric of his black tie.

Those words catch him so off guard that he falters, and then frowns.

“None of this is in any way your fault.” Spencer states bluntly.

“If I’d broken up with him already, he wouldn’t have been here, wouldn’t have said those things in front of y- Spencer!” You cut yourself off when your reminder of what your ex had said has Spencer trying to move past you to go back outside and start right where he left off, having no choice but to grab his arm in an effort to stop him.

Realistically, you are not strong enough to hold Spencer in place. If he wanted to, he could push past you easily, but your hand on him could disarm a nuclear bomb if he was its power source.

“Don’t. Please. Stay.” You plead.

Like you ever have to ask.

Spencer settles back against the counter, one of his cold, bloody hands lifting to cup the back of your head, tilting your forehead back to his chest hold you there.

“By the same token, I could have prevented this, had I said what’s been unsaid.” Spencer murmurs into your hair.

“That’s way less fair than the point I made.” You remark, which has him smirking against the top of your head.

“Don’t get smart with me when I’m running on adrenaline.” Spencer warns playfully.

“Don’t get flirty when you just beat a guy to a pulp for disrespecting me.” You counter, causing him to scoff quietly.

“That reminds me, I must amend a previous statement.” Spencer says, and you can’t resist tilting your head back to look up at him, his hands immediately shaking free of their icepacks to cup your cheeks.

“Mhmm?” You press.

“I said all it would take for me to clock him would be him making you cry, this has proven to be incorrect. Based on my actions tonight, I can safely say if he made you cry, I would kill him.” Spencer speaks with a tone so soft you’d think he was complimenting you, his thumbs caressing your cheeks so tenderly while he threatens your ex’s very life.

“Wow. Big words for a man who hasn’t even taken me out on a first date.” You smirk.

“Moving a little fast, aren’t we, sunshine?” Spencer quips teasingly, his own smirk forming.

“A year of tiptoeing around each other while I was in a relationship is only moving a little fast by the standards of the romance novels you read, Doc.” You joke.

“Touché.” Spencer laughs fondly down at you. “Does this mean I can finally attempt to court you, fair lady?”

Butterflies that he singlehandedly commands, fly free in your stomach.

“I’d say so.” You answer softly, and Spencer breathes the deepest sigh of relief.

He leans down to rest his forehead against yours, ever so gently bumping his nose to yours in the most tender gesture of affection.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Spencer whispers, his breath fanning your lips.

“Anything.” You murmur.

Spencer smiles at the breathlessness he can already hear in your voice, solely caused by his proximity. Time slows to the most beautiful halt as he leans in, leaving the softest kiss at the corner of your mouth, barely even touching your lips.

“It was me who left a flower on your desk.”

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