#did not help that i demanded far too much of her

[msookyspooky]

Fours a Franchise

Part 19

Wordcount: 6,978

A male cop sat by your bedside that afternoon.

Asking you as much as he could while Judy and him took turns writing things and asking things as well. “Those men, who were they?” 

“Hard to say.” You replied as calmly as you could. You were a horrible liar according to everyone but you tried your best to dance around the truth. Sweating bullets and being able to thankfully blame it on sepsis and medication.

“What about that night?” The cop asked as Judy wrote things down.

“They just showed up… Do we have to ask all this right now?” You coughed out sickly. You felt like absolute death.

“I'm afraid we do, Miss YN... Did you know them?...Witnesses  say you called someone.” 

“Jill is the only one alive. Just say Jill.” You mumbled in agitation. Oh you wanted so badly to unravel her lie that she was SUPPOSED to be hiding under a bed and you were on the roof on the other side of the house fighting Ghostface when you called Stu. She was a fucking liar but you had to bite your tongue. You both had a deal here.

“No, of course not. Who I called wasn't those guys if that's what you're implying...I was calling numbers on my phone for help and accidentally called a distant friend I barely ever see. I meant to call Dewey and accidentally called him. He probably thought I was pranking him or something. Ghostface attacked me after that I dropped my phone in the yard and fell off the roof.” You shrugged. Trying not to look at the cop and keeping a poker face with the truth with sprinkles of lies in it. 

The officer wrote things down, “Did those two men take you against your will from this hospital?” 

“Yes.” You firmly stated and looked back at him. Not a lie. They did drag you out. That was God's honest truth that you wish they wouldn't have done but also what choices did you all have left?

“Their description?” 

You tried to ponder, truthfully having to remember what Jill even said. She rushed it out while threatening you in a half delirious fever type of state. “I um…They uh didn't let me look at them too much…”

“Elaborate for us. Why wouldn't you look at your captors?” He sternly demanded

You softly raised your hand trying to find the words and swiped a hand motion over your eye. Getting nervous he might be unraveling you already. 

“You mean blindfolded? Threatened you?” 

“B-Blindfold. Yeah, they blindfolded me once in the car.” What a lie but a good one to save yourself. You didn't know if you could lie that well so try as you.might you gave a half truth. “I passed out most of the car ride, anyways. I didn't see where they took me like roads and everything. And um…And once at the house, I wasn't around them much and they didn't let me see them with being uh…Blindfolded and tied. I was way too weak to even try escaping…” You swallowed. 

“Too weak?” 

“Yeah. Too scared. Too sick. Too injured. I really was out of it and a sitting duck as a hostage.” You gave with a tight voice. God, you might puke again. 

You yelled internally, ‘Damn it, YN. Pull it together. Tell some damn useful fake info!’ Especially now that the cop eyed you, pausing in their writing to analyze you. 

You continued, “But um I did see them a few times and at Kirby's of course…One had red hair I think and far apart teeth and eyes. Tall… The other with dark hair had a hook nose and tan skin…Um…The tall one had a tattoo of something on his shoulder. Uh…Right. Yeah, his right shoulder. He… ” You debated but just went for it. “They reminded me of that Tim and James guy from Windsor years back. Just older and different.”

“So you think these men are the same ones from the 98 incident in Ohio??” Judy asked instead and looked intrigued at the revelation.

It was risky. It could link Billy and Stu to Tim and James like you tried 13 years ago…But it could also get them away from the Tim and James image and send police on a wild goose chase for a while.

You sighed, “The one's never found or proven? I can't say..Maybe? I was in too much shock. It all happened fast and I was on anesthesia once at the hospital and…” You sighed more begrudgingly this time. “This time; I was too focused on protecting Jill at the house than to get details on who those men were but they did remind me of them. I just know that the one definitely had a tattoo and the other had a hooked nose and gree- no, blue. Yeah, blue eyes.” You swallowed down the lies just spewing from you to save your ass while you felt your back sweating and soaking your hospital gown.

“What was it? The tattoo?” 

Oh shit…Shit! Damn, what did that little murdering cretin say it was? Oh no…Think think-

You gave a tight uncomfortable smile and shook your head, “A Phoenix or Dragon or something? I don't remember.” Well the not remembering part was true. 

“And if we reviewed cameras; would it match your story of being dragged out?” 

You ALMOST felt a coughing fit happen at how dry your mouth was…But ICU had no cameras in the room, you remembered that much. Only the hallway.

Judy wrote all this down and nodded to herself. Hopefully that was good…

“Yes…I was dragged out against my will.” 

———————————

Gale listened beside Dewey as they stayed out of the room but within ear shot as he was still technically on the case as Sheriff till he fully turned his badge in. Dewey seemed like he didn't want to see you, didn't want to be near you, didn't want anything to do with you, especially the more you spoke. 

After the officer left your hospital room with Judy in tow, Gale went in despite Dewey trying to get her not to. It seemed she wasn't even worrying about Judy, just enraged at your lies. Dewey was trying to grab her arm but she barged in anyways once you 3 were alone.

You laid there still sicker than a dog but feeling more aware with the right treatment each hour. You gazed over at the woman you once tried so hard to see as a friend even after everything she had done over a decade ago. Look where it got you?

“What are you doing?” Gale demanded with a stern hiss. “What are you playing at? We all saw them and you know who they were. Shit, you protected them! You protected them from Dewey!” 

You said nothing…Glancing over at Dewey in the doorway who wouldn't look at you. A frown and tense look on his face as he folded his arms.

“Listen, YN. I know now. Okay? I do. I should have listened; I believe you. I know Jill Roberts was one of the Ghostface's and she helped Charlie. If you help me; we can lock her up. Randy and all the other victims can get justice.” 

Your eyes widened with a tiny glimmer of hope in you but you shoved it down and knew better. Gale could just be baiting you. Getting you to admit just to lock you up too. And besides…It was too late for that. They shoved you aside, damned you, and protected Jill. There was no turn from that. They could have killed Jill when she showed how she was the potential killer or at least arrested her and kill or fight Billy and Stu afterwards…You didn't know if you would've fought for Billy and Stu as much had Jill been dead but you'd be damned if Jill lived and your only support in Billy and Stu died because of Dewey and Gale. That hope was dead.

Gale stared at you as you were silent. She urged you, “Please just give a correct goddamn statement. Even just to us. I swear, if you tell us the truth, we'll get her…Damn it, do it for Randy. Wasn't he your friend?” 

You stared at her long and hard. “...Because you're so trustworthy after everything you've done?” You mumbled then stayed silent. Anything you said could and would be used against you with cops or the media…Especially Dewey and Gale now. 

“Hmph. So that's how it is, huh? You're gonna betray everyone to hide those two and to keep your own ass safe? Using Selfish Bitch." Gale spat not even whispering now.

Apparently you were a bad liar and a using bitch to everyone lately.

You just looked away wishing she would just leave. “...I told you that night.” You croaked out. “I told you and look what you did. What both of you did…I told you 15 years ago and then 13 years ago…” You shook your head to yourself. “And from a decade onward I've had to rely on myself…You both did this decades ago and now you're trying to blame me?”

Gale perked up and Dewey spared a glance.

You continued in a low mumble, “...I never helped Billy and Stu in 1996. I meant every bit of that. I swear on my life, I never helped them kill my friend's and tried to get them caught for it.” You told the whole truth but carefully in case Gale had a wire. “And you tried taking me to court to be tried as an accomplice for murder over a delay and possibly altered tape. A serious crime with decades of prison time had it worked and you expect me to trust telling you anything? Fuck you.” 

Dewey subtly eyed you. Frowning deeply at ‘friend's’ knowing that meant Tatum too. Yet he seemed like he couldn't even bring himself to truly look at you let alone talk to you. Gale's eye twitched at you dishing the fact of what she tried to pull years ago.

“...Fine.” Gale shrugged mockingly. “Fine, you weren't involved then but you know they're alive. You knew all this time and you hid it…Why? Why did you hide it? Why did you buck me so much at Windsor? Whether we had bad blood or not; we both agreed. We both know who Tim and James are and the first description is accurate. Not this shit you're selling. We both saw them at Windsor, we both saw them a few nights ago in ICU and they do not have a hooked nose and blue eyes and red hair and a fucking tattoo. Why did you hide them in Hollywood? Why are you hiding them now? WHY?” She pleaded urgently with a frown.

You blinked at that but kept your lips sealed.

“Dewey has the pictures of you with them in a motel. Twice.” She threatened through gritted teeth. “I didn't see a fucking hooked nose. I didn't see red hair. I see a damn liar meeting up with two murderers…And they look like grown up Billy Loomis and Stu Macher.” 

Ah…That's right. Randy seemed to mention something or maybe it was Dewey? It was hard to tell in the chaos. Regardless, you didn't care if it was clear as day…You were gonna deny it. You had nothing left to lose but your life and freedom and you weren't talking.

Gale seemed to be losing her patience with your tight lip routine. “Aren't you gonna talk? Why are you lying? Why are you giving false descriptions of them when those aren't the pictures you described at college? Andrews and Richard's description matched too…What happened to that scar on James aka Billy's cheek, hm? The one you insisted on at Windsor. Same side you cut Billy with shears the night before he supposedly roped you in against your will. He had gauze on his cheek at the party from you and he still has that scar. In fact, I saw it here at this hospital.  Why leave out that important identifier?...If we found this guy you had relations with or whoever else is on your phone; would he have a scar, YN?” She growled out through her teeth.

“13 years ago…I was under stress and projecting my trauma. I saw what I wanted to see and I think Randy did too. I was in a bad place mentally. But now that I'm more aware and better?” You stared at her long and hard. Lying but this was an easy lie to retell because it was a lie people already labeled you with. “...I just don't remember a scar now-”

“Stop lying!” Gale scoffed loudly, “How can you live with yourself knowing two murderers are free all because of you!? How can you lie to us all these years? In fact, if I was more shocked I'd return the favor and hit you like you did me back in the day; but I'm not that shocked. I always knew you were a liar, I just couldn't prove it. You probably did work with them in 96, right? You're just trying to make it look good, right?...Huh? Are you secretly happy that everyone is dead?” 

You just took it. Numbly gazing at her. Anything you said would be against you. Gale was baiting you to talk and you weren't falling for it. They could claim they had evidence and you still wouldn't speak. 

“You aren't even gonna defend yourself?” Gale demanded. “We could go through your phone, you know. We can see who called. Who you texted. Pictures. I can dig deep. I can find evidence at your house. I can ask around.”

You sighed and just shrugged. All while holding her gaze as you laid in that hospital bed. You felt like you had done this too many times and honestly? You were damn tired. If you did go to prison…So what? This shit was getting way too old for you. Might as well try lying and playing stupid and see if it's as easy as these Ghostface's act like it is.

She grumbled out, “You fucking -” 

“Gale.” Dewey's voice rang out in a low tone. “Leave her alone…She clearly won't talk. We're wasting our time.” 

You frowned deeply wanting desperately to talk to him, more than Gale, to explain…But you knew that was a wasted effort. He wouldn't listen. Hell, he could be bugged; not the same Dewey you knew. So you kept quiet as Gale stormed out before turning back to you and marching back to your bedside to get her final say. 

She returned to get the final word. “You know, I'm a tough cookie. I can handle my maid of honor at my wedding betraying me. I can handle you being a fucking liar…But I can't handle you hurting my husband. He's done nothing but be heartbroken and who can blame him? A woman he looked at like a little sister knew the guys that killed his actual sister; that they were both alive! All while she lied to his face for 15 years!” She spat out, looking almost ready to hit you.

“Gale!” Dewey ordered in a shaky way that just didn't even sound like him. “That's enough. Let's go.” 

You knew your face was failing you. The one ‘Woodsboro Family’ you had left thought you killed Tatum or at least Randy. And at best; he thought, no, he knew you hid his sisters' murderers from him for years.

You swallowed to get the lump down in your throat. Your chest ached as you looked at Dewey and you both locked eyes for a moment and you saw a cold look. Hurt and hate in his eyes you never thought would ever be directed at you as he and Gale left you alone in that hospital room.

“Dewey.” You mumbled to Dewey. “…Where's the Dewey I knew in Hollywood that nabbed my files for me to help me?…Or who read all my book just because I wrote it and found it inspiring?…And now you won't even talk to me alone and hear me out?” You tearly gave in to his revenge and anger and bitterness making him a totally different man. Like seeing Billy and Stu made him spiral and you know it was the cherry on top. “I'm still sorry, Dewey.” 

Leaving you feeling more alone than ever before. Such a stark contrast from him 15 years ago hugging you and crying in your arms at the hospital and defending you…To being the one accusing you and staying away.

Dewey stared at you. His mouth twitched in a tight frown before he left you alone.

———————————

Gale listened as the officer interviewed Jill and her mouth hung open as Jill gave the exact description of the two that you did…It was a lie! It was impossible!

As Judy wrapped it up, Gale all but grabbed her. “This isn't right! Damn it, aren't you trained in observation? Didn't you see the guy that shot you!?” 

“Get your hands off of an Officer, Gale.” Judy ripped her arm away defensively, “I didn't get a good look at him because he shot me after he hit me in the head but he was tall with far apart eyes-” 

“And the hair? Was it dark blonde or red?” 

Judy pondered, “Blondish?…No, Red. Strawberry Blonde-” 

“No!” Gale grumbled at her memory being tainted by Jill and you. “Look at the cameras! Me and Dewey can give an exact description.” 

Judy sighed, “And I believe that of Dewey.” Gale's eyes narrowed at the favoritism as Judy continued, “But we have two witnesses that claim differently and they match up even when interviewing them separately and being away from each other for days. And the cameras only show certain angles that match! We didn't see faces up close and the footage isn't in color.” 

“Why the hell not!?” 

“It's a small old hospital!” Judy exclaimed and shrugged dramatically. “And I'd rather discuss this with Sheriff Riley alone, Gale.” 

Dewey's shoulders were tense as Gale rubbed her face and ignored the blonde's last statement.

Gale mumbled to herself, “I don't understand... How does Jill go from wanting YN dead and claiming she's involved to claiming she was… What? Just scared and misunderstood the situation? And how did they both lie correctly? They had to have communicated together recently under our fucking noses. They had to!” Gale ranted as none of this went how she expected. 

Judy got out her notepad, “Do you want to give another statement? These guys…Sheriff Riley said Billy and Stu…He said in a past statement Jill told him that YN-” 

‘Oh Dewey…’ She thought to herself as she watched him walk away and gave him space. The man looked defeated. Like everything he knew turned out to be a lie.

Gale and Judy blinked hearing something be thrown in the bin nearby. Gale faltered seeing Dewey stalk off. “Sheriff?” Judy worriedly called out to him as Gale went to the trash bin. Picking up his hat with a tight frown. For her husband to do that? To something he was so proud of and his job? 

————————————

You took a stressful 2 days to ‘recover’. Everyday was you on edge and sicker than a dog, you swore your blood pressure was probably up and heart rate a permanent over 100 bpm. The police bothered you one more time for a description and you tried your best to lie about their appearance and you knew you were suspicious. Probably a shitty liar. Stressed and tense and nervous as Hell. But lucky for you, one thing was truthful; you did not know where they were or directions of where they took you. During the day, you were passed out. At night, you were feverish and it was dark. 

You were waiting for them to catch you in a lie. To search your phone. You hated that Billy and Stu stupidly sent you here with your phone on you. Probably not even thinking with you close to death. 

However, it didn't happen. Gale came to pressure you one more time with the photos Dewey had. And to your relief, yeah you COULD say they looked like Billy and Stu especially a decade ago but the most recent ones had them both pretty obscure while inside the motel on the outskirts of Woodsboro. In fact, you couldn't see them. Judy just took shitty pictures to report to Dewey. They had nothing. 

Of course, when she pressed the cops once she realized you wouldn't talk…They questioned.

“Who are those men and why were you meeting them?” 

You paled at Judy's urgent questioning on day 2 in a half of you in that hospital. You sighed…Damn Gale. Damn her.

"You mean the ones you followed me and took pictures of in secret? Stalking me?" I grumbled.

Judy remained aloof, "It was Sheriff Riley's orders to keep an eye on you at all times. Who were they?"

“...One is my mechanic and the other I met in Hollywood years ago…I met them for…” You groaned and was unable to make up something better. “We have…We needed each other.” You nervously coughed out.

Judy looked oblivious. “And what for?” 

Despite yourself you felt flustered because even as a lie; you didn't feel like claiming a booty call. “Um…Relations.” 

She blinked. 

You narrowed your eyes; dear lord how did she have a kid? 

“Sex.” 

Judy's eyes widened even buggier than usual. “Oh…OH!” She wrote something down. “You with…Both??” 

“Yes.” You forced out cheeks heating and a glare at the wall. “I have a well known name and I know how unconventional it is so they're a secret.” 

Judy cleared her throat and uncomfortably adjusted herself. “Well…Ms. YN. There's no room for secrets with a string of murders. Where are they?” 

“Don't know, we called it off.” 

“Oh really? And what were their names?” 

You shrugged, “Vincent and Den..Nis. Dennis.” 

Judy raised a brow. “Last names?” 

“Vincent never told me his last name.” 

“And you never asked??” Judy looked bewildered.

You blew air through clenched teeth, “Look it was never serious enough. Not everything is a Disney Romance, you know... Vincent is just a guy that works at some mechanic shop that I think is closed now and we have…Look we just have quick relations, okay?” You grumbled wanting to be anywhere but here. 

“And Dennis? You met him in Hollywood? During Stab? Could it be-” She gasped. “...The actor?! Rafkin?” 

You winced, “...Um…Maybe...Yes. He keeps a low profile probably out of the Country on Holiday.” Unable to get out of this one. 

“Do you have their numbers?” 

“Yes but I doubt they'd answer. We called it off.” You gazed over at her. “And they weren't involved. I promise I know my…-” You grimaced. “Guys and they were not the two guys involved in this.” 

Judy wrote things down. “You know we can get a warrant to look through your phone-” 

“You can now.” You swallowed hoping doing this might make you look more innocent.

You felt your palms sweating as she looked. Then raised a brow seeing ‘Vincent’ texts. “What's this?” 

“We spoke secretly because I did not want Randy and them to look down on me for my private life…We called in secret. I heard a noise and thought it was the killer and it wasn't. So he texted me frantically thinking something happened.” 

And that was the honest truth, actually…Hm. Maybe this lying thing wasn't too hard. Just tell what truth you could throughout the lies.

Judy nodded looking through your phone seeing you had called an ‘unknown’ number the night at Kirby's.

“That was Dennis. I meant to press Dewey's contact. I always kept his unknown because he was so…Embarrassed over being with someone like me.” You forced yourself to give as if a woman scorned.

She eyed you and you prayed she bought it. To your immense relief, she handed you the phone. “You deserve better. Especially if he's the same guy I heard you arguing with at Mr's Meeks' house in the backyard. I know how tough a situationship can be, believe it or not.” 

“Can't argue with that.” You sighed out in relief. 

“Well, for now, they're not suspects or witnesses. We aren't resting till we capture these guys that kidnapped you though. Murderers, kidnappers, one shot an officer and could've killed me…I swear, I'll never forget his face…I swear he looked familiar.” 

You forced a head nod but felt tension at that. That tension didn't leave even as she finally left. All it would take is watching a movie with Dennis and boom.

You heard Gale arguing with her down the hall and you rolled your eyes. You saw Judy warn Gale to back off of police business. Showing her badge for emphasis through the window.

Gale wasn't gonna stop. She just wasn't. And if she did? It would be a while. Years of watching your back, who you talked to, who you called, what you said.

You sighed and leaned back, closing your eyes in your elevated hospital bed. You couldn't go home fast enough. No more hustle and bustle, no more interviews, no more book signings, no more. You didn't care if you had to work remotely or a shitty normal job  if it meant peace. A nice domestically slow leisurely life. You were so damn eager after all this time and all this stress; so much grief fueling you to shut yourself away like you did a decade ago. Only this time no Randy or Dewey by your side. 

It was a little bit later that you turned on your tv while trying to stomach food of some sort…Every news station was you and Woodsboro and…Jill Roberts.

You declined every single interview not only to appease that little monster but because you just wanted to be done with the limelight. If Jill wanted all eyes on her like a spoiled brat? So be it! 

Your eyes narrowed and a sickening feeling came up as Jill played the victim in her hospital room still down the hall from you. Most likely an interview from earlier today. 

“It was terrifying…I'm just so glad me and YN made it. YN really fought hard but after she went down I did what I had to survive and finish off Charlie and the other two thankfully stayed down…It was traumatic.” She dabbed her eyes.

That lying little bitch. 

You felt anger well up in you. There was no answer. Either go to prison for god knows how long and have your name tainted to HOPEFULLY get her to go to prison too…Or suck it up that the person that murdered her friends and yours; got away with it. Clearly the police after interviewing you both separately again and again were positive despite Dewey or Gale's rambling and a stray nurse or doctor that didn't line up. The police and media seemed to think that you weren't involved and sadly neither was that piece of teenage shit.

Two crudely drawn pictures of ‘suspects’ were up. They somewhat resemble Billy and Stu but not quite. Not enough to pick them out of a crowd right away. Thankfully after you ‘admitted’ to Windsor pictures of Billy and Stu as Tim and James not being accurate and Randy unable to buck you or those two Detectives; they weren't reliable now. Just a traumatized teen girl that needed on meds back in ‘98 that poorly convinced, but convinced nonetheless, the authorities that the current sketch was more accurate of ‘Tim and James’ aka the guys ‘Most likely’ involved. Vincent and Dennis may need to change their look and lay low for a year or two. Maybe even change identities…But they might get away too, and despite how wrong it was, you were kinda…Relieved. 

You groaned and turned your tv off. Unable to listen to Jill's fucking lies. She lied much better than you did but thankfully since both your stories matched and they had no idea the cunning weasel Jill was. No clue she called you in secret on someone's phone or even the hospital staff for all you knew with how devious she was…Who would contradict your statements? Your ‘description’ matched up and you two were the only ones at the house to say so and the hospital had a few camera shots of them but too many contradictions. Judy barely got a glimpse of them and could clearly easily be swayed. Dewey was ranting like a lunatic that it was Billy and Stu and was obviously discredited for it and Gale was 50/50 if people would believe her. 

Dewey and Gale's descriptions were accurate and looked like Billy and Stu who were supposed to be dead. You and Jill's description match for the most part and you both were the victims at the house and both of you feigned innocence that ‘How could they possibly be Billy and Stu? There's no way.’ 

Who would the cops and the media believe? Exactly.

You closed your eyes. Back to square one. Being the innocent sweetheart was good while it lasted but you knew it wouldn't last forever. Just like you knew it wouldn't last for Jill either…She'll find out the hard way attention isn't always good. 

You knew conspiracy theorists would side with Gale and Dewey just like they did in the 90's when Gale made her claims you were involved. Some believer had attacked you at your damn house. And truthfully, this time around they'd be half correct. But thankfully, no one but tinfoil hats and naysayers would trust Gale's word over you, Jill and the media.

————————————

Gale paced their house. “This is bullshit…” She shoved a newspaper onto the table. “Utter bullshit, Dewey!” 

Dewey clutched his head. Yesterday still on his mind and today. He had to identify Randy Meeks body for Karla before they planned any final arrangements yesterday. He didn't want Karla to have that on her…Seeing his lifeless face.

The legal battle of Randy being Jewish and the state versus his religion on keeping his body for examination way past 24 hours for any evidence. He looked like a Halloween prop to Dewey. Skin unnatural from being kept on ice so to speak. They made sure he was not embalmed, at least only kept on ice and a Rabbi performed the right ceremonies for him. The Jewish Community the Meeks were a part of, including his sister Martha, fought the authorities wanting his body buried immediately while coroner's had to gather as much evidence as possible. Fibers, prints, how he was killed, if the knife matched a suspect.

It was only after determining the killer was most likely Charlie after finding knife patterns matching his Dad's hunting knife and shoe prints matching his in the mud and a hair found almost days later on Randy's jeans matching Charlie that they could put him to rest…Even though there was plenty of other contaminated evidence from the party on him and even if arguably some evidence was overlooked. Dewey just had to confirm the body one more time before putting him to rest. The coroner wanted more time but was legally advised along with the police department not to. That they had already pushed Jewish law enough as it was for the examination and Randy's family would win in court if they were taken there, something they threatened if even one more day went by. After all, his body had been kept for over a few days.

Bruises on the neck from the rope, lifeless features, skin so cold it was blue with veins showing. He couldn't imagine how much sewing they had to do to his body under that sheet despite his religion; or else his innards would be spilling out everywhere while on the examination table. When they opened his eyes slightly, lifting the lids, they were gray and dead…He looked nothing like fun jovial smart alec Randy and yet it was him. 

“Are you listening!?” Gale snapped.

“No.” Dewey mumbled in a strained voice, nursing whiskey. It has become a crutch to sleep and to loosen up right now. “No, I'm not. I had a pretty bad few days, Gale.” 

Gale went to snap a snarky remark but faltered. Then with a heavy sigh she leaned over the table. “...I know this was a shitty week. But if anything, it's more of a reason to not stop fighting.” She pointed at the table. “Do. Not. Give. Up.” 

Dewey leaned back looking at her. A lot of hope drained from him the last few days. “...And what? It's an open investigation now turning into a cold case.” He groaned and lightly smacked the table. “There are multiple fingerprints, one might match Billy Loomis from ‘96 but what will that do if they're nowhere to be found and no evidence they're alive? You said it yourself! We'll be laughed out of the courtroom. They'll claim the fingerprints were unreliable smudges or someone else. Same with the blood. If they aren't in the system paying taxes or buying things from reputable places or have credit scores then what good does it do? They might not even be in the Country now.” He shook his head.

“So what?” Gale urged. “And we don't know that. If they're stupid enough to stick around to help YN-” 

Dewey winced at that, “Can we just stop talking about it?” 

Gale looked dumbfounded but sat down. “...Don't you want this solved?” 

He scoffed, “Of course I do! But if Billy and Stu are never found then what good does it do?” 

“Um, incriminating Jill? The actual killer.” She grumbled. “If you won't search Jill's phone records then I will go to the Attorney General and get a subpoena.” 

Dewey glared at his wife, “No you won't.” 

“And what's stopping me? Why not!?” She demanded at her wits end with her husband  going in circles. “Still think Jill's innocent?” 

Dewey's mouth twitched and he rested his chin on his forearm on the table, “I don't know what to think anymore…But you are not going to rock this case until we find Billy Loomis and Stu Macher.” 

“Why?” Gale demanded harsher this time. “What's stopping me from just pointing it out online to some crime junkie then?! That video was shot in Jill's room Dewey and it's obvious and I can't believe you and your department are glossing over it!” 

“Because you're not throwing YN in prison, alright!?” He finally snapped before his voice and face wavered. “If you search Jill's phone and we find that evidence or we overanalyze the video and prove it was there then a case will go to court and…I don't know how much YN is involved. But I just…I just can't send her to prison until those bastards go first!...Besides, a video isn't enough without DNA and eyewitness testimony…Kirby said nothing about Jill or YN, only Charlie, and both their stories match up suddenly. We're the odd ones out here and Judy was knocked out before she could truly see them…All you'll do is send YN to prison, possibly Jill and those two jerks walk free like they have for 15 years.” He firmly declared.

Gale looked bewildered, “I can't believe this.” She huffed with a shake of her head. “You told her to get out and never come back. You were hunting her down. You wanted to arrest her if it meant getting answers-” 

“I wasn't thinking, Gale.” He grumbled and sipped his glass. “Maybe…Maybe I do think Jill could be what you claim?” Gale looked pleasantly surprised but he continued, “Maybe I realize this is bigger than I thought? Maybe, just maybe, I still have a bit of faith in YN that she wouldn't do any of this unless blackmail or forced or something…Why else would she come back? Why else would they send her here? You saw her! She was fighting them down the hall! She didn't want to go-” 

Gale scoffed and got up from her chair, “You're being an idiot!” 

“And you're being an opportunist.” He bitterly told her. “You're being the Gale I broke up with years ago. It always comes full circle for you, doesn't it?” Gale stiffened at his tipsy words and looser tongue as he buried his weary head in his arms on the table. 

“Hey, it does not! I have a career!” She argued seeing Dewey get more tipsy it seemed by the hour. Minute even. 

“Randy's dead. YN's a Traitor whether by force or her own will. Jill could be the victim or the killer. Billy and Stu lived and are out free. Hell, maybe I'm the killer at this point? Or you!” He slurred with a pitiful groan.

She huffed, rolling her eyes and taking the bottle from him. Gale gazed down at him and her usual stoic smugness softened. “...I know this is probably harder on you than it is me and we're being assholes to each other.” She sat the bottle aside and cupped his cheek as he damn near pouted at her. She sighed and softly ordered. “I think you need to take care of yourself with sleep and food that isn't liquid.” 

He grumbled, “No…I gotta keep looking, you said it yourself we can't give up. But for them, not YN and Jill. I want them to suffer, I want them to face justice damn it.” 

She sighed again and combed his short hair back a bit with her fingers. “Yeah, I know. But the biggest evidence to incriminate Jill Roberts and put the murderer away is on her phone, Dewey. It's right there.” 

“And the biggest evidence of all is Billy Loomis and Stu Macher.” He enunciated their names. 

“Look. Two things can be right, ya know.” 

“Not until we get them. I know YN, Gale…They got something on her…She's scared and won't talk cause she's worried.” 

“Yeah, worried about her own ass.” Gale grumbled under her breath as she pulled away.

“What?” 

“Nothing.” She straightened herself. “Dewey, c'mon. You cannot just let the case go cold until we find Billy and Stu; if we find them. What? Are you just giving up because we may never find them?” 

He shrugged tiredly, dark eyes dropping. “Maybe. The media is having a field day with Jill and we would need a LOT of evidence to make her guilty IF she is and you're right somehow.” 

Gale reluctantly agreed in a grunt of resignation. Jill was sweet as pie right now and the media was in her favor. 

“And YN was already made to look guilty from yyoouu-” He pointed at her, “She'll get blamed for something those two did!” 

She sighed and rolled her eyes, “Oh yeah? May I remind you she lied and shielded Billy Loomis from being shot. Twice. 1996 and now 2011” 

“Because she's a good person; you should try it.” He huffed out.

Gale sneered with a tsk, “Alright, you're eating something and sobering up.” She stalked to the kitchen as he sat at the small table and kept talking.

"She may be naive and stubborn but she's too soft hearted...I was wrong. She's gotta be protecting them from blackmail or maybe from being just too sweet of a person." He swallowed and shook his head. “She was dragged out…She didn't wanna go with them…You said it yourself, why was Jill in her room in the middle of the night? Why did Billy and Stu take her back here?...Why isn't she saying anything?...Why does her and Jill's description match when they're lliieesss?” He stretched out the last part. “How'd that happen, Gale? Huh? How did it happen?” He almost pleaded tiredly.

Gale was at a crossroads that she couldn't quite decide yet. She did NOT like the idea of it being a cold case forever looking for Billy and Stu…She hated someone else getting the glory for the inevitable of pointing out Jill's low survival rate and her superficial wounds plus Olivia's death recorded from her bedroom window as her neighbor…

Gale momentarily halted making him something. “...I don't know.” For once, was the answer. The only answer she had. Nothing made sense to her. You and Jill wouldn't talk and Dewey was gonna fight her on incriminating Jill and you. For hiding those two; Gale had no issue sending your ass to prison for tanking her career over lies you were still lying about but Dewey apparently did. 

But she also didn't want to make an enemy of her husband.

Fuck.

She sighed heavily while making him a grilled cheese. “....Fine.” She laid the plate down harsher than necessary in front of him. “We'll twiddle our thumbs waiting around to find Billy and Stu but mark my words, Dewey. If another murder happens? I am bringing that tape in play and that second murder is on you and Woodsboro PD. If YN goes to prison for whatever involvement she had then so be it. You can't protect her forever; especially if she's a damn murderer too.” 

With that, Gale left the room. Leaving a weary Dewey half drunk and tired and so emotionally drained he might as well be catatonic as he numbly nibbled on the grilled cheese his impatient wife burned.

[luifaro]

i mean... i can't really say i DO, flowey. i kinda wanna help ceroba find her daughter.

[sp0o0kylights]

“Dustin isn’t coming.”

“What?” Eddie says, all frantic and jovial movements freezing instantly.

His eyes narrow on Lucas--the bearer of bad news. “Why?” 

“Family emergency.” 

Mike makes a face. “I saw his mom yesterday and she was fine, so is this a…?” 

He makes a gesture that is entirely incomprehensible to anyone who isn’t Sinclair and his terrifying girlfriend.

(At least, Eddie thinks Max is Lucas’s girlfriend this week. It got a little hard to keep up after the third break-up-make-up marathon, and he frankly, stopped bothering to try.

It helped that she barely spoke--The only time notable being when Eddie had mockingly asked Sinclair if he needed a cheerleader when she’d first sat in, upon which she’d asked Eddie if he needed new kneecaps with a look in her eye that said she was serious.)

Wheeler Jr.’s gesture however, made her put her book down.

“You think he’s having migraines again?” She not so much asked as demanded, which had Mike shrugging. 

“Dunno." Lucas says. "Dustin didn’t say.” 

“Gotta be, if he called Dustin.” Mike mutters, Lucas shuffling his papers about as he begins to set up for Hellfire. He was the last in the room, practically late, which Eddie had planned on harassing him for had he not announced Henderson’s absence. 

(Fucking freshmen. They just weren’t terrified of Eddie like they used to be.) 

 “Robin must be sick or something, otherwise he’d call her.”  Lucas finishes as he finally sits down. 

“Didn’t the Marching Band go on some trip?” Mike turns to address the rest of the table, and gets nods from Jeff and Gareth both. 

“Yeah they’re marching in some parade in Indianapolis.” Jeff confirms. 

“So his last resort was Dustin?” Max is getting that tone in her voice, the one that makes everyone at Hellfire very uncomfortable. “Typical.” 

She pushes away from the table, making a show of gathering up her things before rising easily to her feet.

Eddie trades looks with the elder Hellfire members as she makes her exit--the kind that says they’re all going to be talking about this later. 

They knew their freshmen had some weird obsession with the former King, of course, but Mayfield too?

What the hell was up with that guy?

At least Eddie thinks, right before things are once again shot to shit, they can go back to playing the game.

He can make it work this early into things, and if Henderson isn't’ a fan of what he’s about to do to the kid’s character in his absence, well. 

Maybe he shouldn’t be fucking absent then. 

“So what, Max, you're gonna go over there and make it worse?” Mike snorts. 

Fatal mistake.

Eddie almost strangles him for it, if only because it prolongs this entire unnecessary conversation. 

Max performs a military perfect heel turn, coming straight back for Wheeler Jr., which makes him right about fall out of his seat in panic. 

“What was that, Wheeler?” 

“I’m just saying--!” 

“We don’t know Steve’s having migraines.” Lucas reiterates, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Maybe it’s something else.” 

“Does Steve get migraines a lot?” Grant asks, because despite all appearances he’s a terrible gossip and gets sucked in far too easily.

Eddie throws a pencil at him for it. 

“Hel-looo, we have a game!?” He thunders, but unfortunately for him, precious Stevie-Weavies headache now has everyone’s attention. 

“Yeah, though he’s really good at pretending he doesn’t.” Lucas answers with a put upon sigh. 

“There’s a whole pattern--he ignores it until it gets super bad, then he has to call Robin or Dustin to come get him when he inevitably gets stranded at work or the like, grocery store.” 

“Well who else do you think he’d call?” Mike scoffs again. He does a lot of that, when discussing Harrington. “It’s not like his parents are--Ow, Max!” 

“Close your mouth before I close it for you.” She hisses and Mike, shockingly, does just that. 

To Eddie, she says; 

“Your ass isn’t any better, or did you forget I live across from you?” 

Eddie--who had an insult primed and ready--promptly shuts his mouth.

(Fucking! Asshole! Freshmen!) 

“Maybe I should go too.” Lucas says, hedging a look between his girlfriend and his DM. 

“No.” She snaps, pointing a finger at him.

 “If you go, then this idiot,” she flicks her finger to  Mike, “will go and then we really will make it worse. Stay here before your bichon frise has a fit about all his sheep abandoning him.”

Then she’s turning on her heel again, storming out. 

“What the hell’s a bichon frisé?” Gareth asks in the aftermath, frowning. 

“It’s a type of ahhhh--” Jeff clearly thinks better of the explanation, eyes sliding to Eddie.

Who’s scowling.

“I know what a bichon frisé is, Jeff.” He snaps. 

“I don’t.” Grant loudly complains. 

Jeff attempts to both calm Eddie and explain while Mike and Lucas spend far too many minutes looking after Max. 

“Enough!” Eddie howls, temper finally getting the best of him. “Are we playing or do you also need to go sit by the King’s bedside?”  

“Thank you,” Mike says, like he wasn’t a third of the entire problem. “Let’s play!”

They make it about ten entire minutes before getting knocked off track again. 

In fairness, not that Eddie would ever admit it--the second meltdown is his own fault.

xXx

Hellfire is Eddie’s domain. 

It’s one of the few places where he could relax without getting harassed or hounded, and having his freshmen--his!--abandon him for King Fucking Steve had set him off. 

So he’d made a few comments about it.

Maybe introduced an NPC who sounded suspiciously similar to Harrington, only to instantly kill him off. 

Made another couple of nasty comments. 

Who cares? It worked him through his snit rather nicely, and his boys all knew to leave him be.

Except, apparently, for Lucas. 

“Dude, would you lay off?”  The kid finally snaps, pencil slamming down on the table. 

Which is the most backbone-like thing anyone has ever heard Sinclair say, and he gets far more whistles for it than he should.

Eddie pins him in place with a glare. 

“What was that Sinclair?” He snarls, voice as menacing as he can make it.

(It’s pretty terrifying, he’s practiced quite a bit with it.) 

Sinclair flinches, but doesn’t back down. 

“I said lay off. Steve has migraines because of--” He stops, before seeming to come to a decision. “Because of me. He took a hit for me, and I owe him a life debt for it.” 

To Eddie, he says; “You get what those are, right?” 

Mike rolls his eyes. “It wasn’t just for you--”

“That time with Billy was!” Lucas is quick to snarl. “But you know what Mike, you’re right. It wasn’t just for me. He T-boned a car for all of us!” 

Sinclaire is on his feet now, which is the unfortunate moment that Eddie realizes he has once again lost control of the room. 

A situation he firmly blames on Steve Harrington, because he’s petty. 

“Or did you forget that part? That’s you, me, Will, Nancy and Jonathan right there! Nevermind the tunnel. Or the junkyard! 

“We had the junkyard handled--”

Lucas scoffs. 

“We absolutely did not.” 

“I don’t get why you’re all making such a big deal out of this. He’s the fighter. That’s what he does. That’s why we brought him to the tunnel.”

“You recall what happened at Starcourt, right?” Lucas challenges, furious. “You did see him after, right?” 

This, finally, seems to shut Mike up. 

“Shouldn’t you be mad at him for that?” He says after a moment, and the rest of Hellfire has completely put aside all actual gaming to watch this play out with a morbid sort of fascination. 

Eddie allows it, only because he’s trying to breathe the way Wayne taught him to before he loses it entirely and throws both of the idiot kids out of the drama room. 

“He pulled your sister into it.”

“Have you met Erica!? You can’t pull her into shit!” Lucas spits furiously. “That wasn’t D&D, Mike. It was the Upsi--real life.” 

Lucas is quick to correct himself, even in the heat of the moment--as all the kids are, like the entire school hasn’t clocked that they have some weird ass secret they’re terrible at hiding.

“And if we’re playing those games, then who pulled him into the tunnels? Who made him come to the junkyard?”

“Dustin.” Mike says snidely. 

“You don’t get to blame Dustin when Steve was the only person around.” 

“There were people around! They just weren’t people who--weren’t--who couldn’t--”

“Finish that sentence.” Lucas demands 

“Be trusted.” Mike spits out, like it hurts him. 

“Exactly.” 

“El went through way more than Steve ever has! El--”

“El was using her po--doing mage things! And also, she shouldn’t have had to go through all this shit either! We can’t rely on her to save the day every single time, Mike--and look at how hurt she gets!”

“She--”

“She hides it from you, you know. How bad she hurts. Cause she wants to put your feelings first.” 

“I--”

“Will does too.”  Is Lucas’s parting shot. His backpack is in his hands in a blink, papers and character figure shoved wildly into it, before he’s storming out the door in a poor mimicry of Mayfield.

“Harrington T-Boned a car?” Grant says, in the resounding silence. 

“That BMW of his hasn’t had a scratch on it--” Jeff says, with an inquisitive tilt to his head. 

“He didn’t use the Beamer.” Mike interrupts, angry and sulking. “Are we playing or not?”

“I’m gonna say not, given we are down two players.’ Eddie tells him through clenched teeth. 

“I’m going to be so mad if Steve doesn’t have a migraine.” Mike grumbles, as he begins packing up his stuff. 

The rest of Hellfire follow his lead, after one look at Eddie’s face convince the lot of them that it’s best to flee now, before Eddie unleashes all his pent up rage. 

“Not as mad as I’ll be, Wheeler.” Eddie promises darkly.

And it is a promise--because now, he’s going to follow all his stupid (sans Mike, who isn’t in his good graces either but at least stayed) freshmen--and go visit one fallen King.

If Harrington doesn’t have a headache now, he will when Eddie’s done with him.

[abandonedandforgottentimes]

Many of the younger ccs speaking up about Wilbur's manipulation is INCREDIBLY concerning, and I don't think they'll be the last. I think it's also a big indication that it happened to Tommy too, and that he'll take a while to respond. People demanding an immediate response need to remember that he was likely a victim of it too, he just may not have been aware of it.

I mean, Wilbur's ADMITTED he relied on Tommy for his mental health when he was still a minor. That is NOT something adults should ever do and it has always been odd to me. It also makes it very hard for the minor involved to leave the friendship, since they see themselves as responsible for the older person. I don't think I need to really go into how unhealthy that sort of thing is, it isn't an uncommon occurrence and lot of people will have a better explanation than me. But it is something to keep in mind, that Tommy may feel responsible or have been groomed to excuse the behavior.

The library stream is another example of the manipulation, and I'm surprised no one is talking about it. Tommy literally talked about how uncomfortable he was at Wilbur's house. It was cold, he had no blanket, he didn't want to keep staying there, he would rather be out in public at night in a strange place. Then Wilbur just shows up out of nowhere and tells Tommy he's misremembering/being dramatic and pretty much shuts him up, gets him to stop talking shit about him. Everyone's exasperation with Tommy in the situation (being a minor alone and uncomfortable and uncertain of what to do, far from home with nowhere to go), helped Wilbur pull Tommy back in and convince him to go back to his house, especially since it was passed off as Wilbur being caring.

It was obvious to me during the stream that Tommy was telling the truth and Wilbur was the one lying, but I figured he was just being defensive because he didn't want all that online. Now we know that he had a LOT more to hide about his living situation that he didn't want being spilled, and manipulators/abusers don't tend to like it when someone goes and starts talking about the truth. They want to downplay it as much as possible, and Wilbur showing up in person to shut Tommy up and make fun of him for not wanting to stay with him, make it more lighthearted, is incredibly telling and I'm surprised I haven't seen anyone point that out.

There are so many other things I found odd throughout the years that finally have a proper explanation to them, but that's just a few examples. I'm not going to get too much further into it. Wilbur isn't who we should be focusing on, I just needed to get that out to move on from it.

I do think pointing out that Tommy has openly been manipulated is important because it may cause him to take a while to respond openly to all this while he processes. If Wilbur treated so many of his ex-friends badly it's safe to assume he did it to all of them, and we need to give everyone involved time to stop and think about the situation. A lot of people want Tommy to respond immediately, but he will need time to do that and it's only fair we give him the space to do that properly.

I also think it is so, so incredible that Shelby has given so many people the space and bravery to come forward. I believe there will be more people speaking up soon, they just need time. Support her and other victims!

[kenjakusbraincum]

can you pls write something about reader being sick and like not the cough and cold kind of sick- like really really sick, and sukuna realising how much he doesn't want to lose her to this sickness and how if she dies, he'll be alone again..🥺

You have NO idea how much I love this idea!!! I did go a bit overboard with it cause I love suffering though 👍 Still, this was SO much fun to write and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Vows

Sukuna x Reader

Word count: 4.5k

Tags/warnings: gn! reader, true form! sukuna, master/pet dynamic, fluff but most importantly ANGST, mentions of weight loss, mentions of violence, implied nsfw, reader dies in the end :( (sorry)

It's not the first time Sukuna has been made aware of your mortality. He recalls many instances when he's been reminded that you are human. Finite. The first time he wrapped his hand around your throat and squeezed with calculation while you were laying under him, and you looked up at him in fear for your life. Your little hand couldn't even wrap around his wrist, much less provide resistance. Or when he'd pull your hair a little too roughly, and hear a crack in your delicate spine. When you'd get sick, and humbly refuse his healing. So little as a tummy ache had you writhing on your bed.

You are so weak, so small, clinging to life like there was anything for you in it, beyond Sukuna. By all means he hates all of these things. So what witchery is this, and why does he care about you so much? Why does he keep you for years, and why does your company bring him comfort he hasn't ever known in his lifetime?

Still, as much as he cares, he doesn't notice when it starts. He's trained you to tolerate pain, after all. It's no wonder you hesitate to tell him. Little things like tummyaches and colds occur to you all the time anyways, and you never complain. Sure, you've grown closer to Sukuna, but he was still your master, and the rules he instilled in you from the start were always fresh in your mind, not to be crossed. Bothering him with everything that feels off always seemed inappropriate.

And Sukuna is just like that. If you're not screaming or crying, he won't know you're in pain. But he notices that you're acting off. And how he reacts really doesn't help your case, or encourage you to speak up about your condition. ''I don't have all day. What is wrong with you?'', he sneers when he catches you pacing too far behind him.

So you just sleep longer and preserve energy for when you are with him. You don't skip around as much anymore, or spend time doing your hobbies. Food doesn't taste so great anymore. You have a cough that gives you sleepless nights because it just won't calm down. And the time you owe Sukuna starts to feel like an obligation. You start to dread it. Dread slipping up, dread annoying him or failing to satisfy him. Dread being disposable.

When things start getting worse, it's hard to hide it even from him. He was taking you from behind one night, and you were grateful he couldn't see the look on your face. You thought you could do it. Sukuna was always demanding, but he would never force you to do anything. If only you told him before you felt yourself struggling for air, and your chest closing in on itself in tightness. You reached one hand back, frantically grabbing his wrist.

''Feathers, feathers!'', words came out as gasps, and you slumped forward when he let you go. You were panicked and crying by then, this kind of discomfort being foreign even to you, even after weeks of pain behind you. He hovered next to you with a puzzled look on his face. He wasn't even being that rough.

''What's wrong? Tell me.'', he said, and reached his hand to feel the warmth of your tears streaming down your face. He swiped your cheek gently. He didn't seem mad at all. Why didn't you say anything from the start?

''I just feel so sick.'', you muster up in between sobs, and shut your eyes. You were too embarrassed to even look at him.

''I see.''. His hand leaves your face, and he traces it from your neck down your spine. The pain subsided slowly, allowing you to relax and find comfort in his arms.

But the effects of his healing were short lived. Just a week later the feeling of fatigue creeps back into your life. Manageable, but lingering. And the cough persists. And it gets on Sukuna's nerves too. He's been quite patient with you, but his patience was reaching it's limit.

You're sitting by his throne as you often do, and as hard as you try to hold the cough in, you just can't help it. His hand finds the back of your neck and squeezes, turning you to him. And he looks at you with all four, terrifying eyes. ''Can you shut up?''

''I'm sorry, I'm trying -'', you stutter, but just end up coughing more. He doesn't wait for you to stop.

''Get out of here.'', and pushes you away. You stumble down the pile of bones and fall, landing on your hands and knees. You don't remember him being this cruel to you in a long time. You look back at him with teary eyes, and he looks back like the merciless monster he is. The villagers awaiting him moved to make space for your fall, taking note of the tense situation.

That day, Sukuna sends word that he doesn't want to see you until you get better. You're forbidden from going outside again, in fear that that is making your 'cold' worse. It's a lonely week in your room, until Sukuna starts to crave you again. It didn't take him a while, counting the couple days he spent convincing himself he doesn't miss you. He does. So when he sends word for you again, and the servants come back to him saying you're still not feeling well... he's worried. So worried he comes to see it for himself.

Sukuna rarely comes to your room. It's the only space you have for yourself, and he doesn't want to take that away from you. Your room is modest. You have a bed, a carpet, and a couple shelves to house the books he's gifted you. There's a desk where you can eat and read, and a doorway to the garden. There's an empty glass of water and a napkin next to your bed. You're still sleeping, but the door shutting behind him wakes you up, so he doesn't get to enjoy observing you in your natural habitat for long.

It's not the first time doors opening and closing woke you up. But you know this time is different. The servants are always quickly shuffling around the room, cleaning up and moving around. Uraume clanks with plates. There is no noise now, other than your strained breathing and a cough brewing in the back of your throat. Besides, the aura that Sukuna brings with him everywhere he goes is recognizable. Especially to you. Heavy.

You turn around, and meet the gaze of his four eyes. ''Master...'', you struggle to sit up, and even a little action like that has spots forming in your vision. Then a coughing fit hits you. You pick up the napkin and put it to your mouth.

Sukuna sees your whole body strain with the effort of coughing. And when you call him master, even your voice sounds different. He knows your morning voice. He missed hearing it, but this... this is not it. You sit with your head hung low, staring at the napkin between your hands. There's a fresh splatter of blood on it. But Sukuna scares you more than the progression of your illness.

''Are you mad at me?'', you ask timidly, meeting his gaze.

''I'm concerned.", he says and sits next to you. You curl up to make space for him. "Two weeks is a long time for a frail human like you to be sick.", he looks at you, scanning your form up and down.

"I rested and drank every tea Uraume told me to!", your defense mechanism kicks in, and you start babbling.

Sukuna dismisses you with a hand and a pained facial expression. "I know.", he says. His brows are furrowed now, and he's looking at the ground, lost in thought.

You feel guilty for annoying him again. You feel guilty for the whole thing, getting sick, draining the energy it takes him to heal you, robbing him of the time with you that he deserves. Owns. He is very generous with the way he treats you, having all that in mind.

You tug on his sleeve. "I'm sorry, Master... You deserve better.", and you're sobbing again. Sukuna gives you a pathetic look, but smiles as he pulls you into his embrace.

"Silly pet. I can survive a couple weeks without your assistance.", he says, rubbing your shoulder.

You run your fingers against the back of his hand mindlessly, not knowing how to respond. Caressing his knuckles, bones, veins... feeling his nails and their sharp tips against your sensitive skin. When you bring his palm up to your lips, your kiss stains it red with blood.

-

You still sleep with Sukuna sometimes. Less frequently, only on days when you feel well enough, and those are rare. You've lost weight by now, sickness making itself visible on your body. You're sitting on his lap and clinging to your robes, scared that he won't like you as much, that you won't live up to his standards. But Sukuna's demeanor about your illness has changed, as he seemed to sense something unusual about it. He flips you over so gently, like you're made of glass, and peppers kisses from your neck downwards, slowly undressing you as much as you allow him. When he takes you, he's so careful. Constantly checking you're comfortable and enjoying yourself. You feel so loved and relaxed, and pleasure comes so easy when you're in this state. It's not the first time Sukuna is this caring with you in bed, but this time is different. This time you can't help but feel like he's saying goodbye.

He holds you afterwards, tracing his fingers over the ridges of your spine and your shoulders. You were always little in his grasp, but now that he feels your protruding bones under his fingertips, you seem all the more vulnerable.

"Will you kill me?", you ask, breaking the silence.

Sukuna frowns. "Nonsense. Why would I do that?"

There's a gulp in your throat. "It won't be long before I can't even do this. I won't be of any use to you then...", you say.

"Stop.", he says sternly. "There's a lot more to you than what you provide me with in bed."

You smile to yourself, but there's still a hole in your chest. Your statement is still true, and you aren't comforted. But this is Sukuna, and you know that he's offered you quite a lot even with that little bit of reassurance. To your surprise, he speaks again.

"Don't upset yourself. It's been a long time since killing you crossed my mind.", he says. "Save the energy for something else."

You nod and thank him. Just moments later, you're asleep. Quicker than ever before, he notes. You usually love it when he lets you cuddle and talk to him. You would force your eyes open when you were sleepy, just to enjoy it longer.

He feels guilty. He's your master, he's responsible for your well being. Yet nothing he does seems to help you long term. Healing you is temporary and he knows that without accessing the source, it will never work. If he could, he would find what was making you sick and rip it out of you with his bare hands, crush it with the force of his palm. He would have to look deeper, open you, and for once, he thinks he can't open a human being. He thinks of you trashing, screaming, and worst of all, looking into his eyes. Just the thought of you like that makes his chest feel like a gaping cavity. Worst of all, he's sure you would let him. He's sure you would forgive him for spilling your blood, and find comfort in his arms again. If you survived, that is. What has he done to you? And to himself?

Now, your head rests on his chest, and you're snoring lightly. For once, a repetitive noise like that doesn't annoy him. For once, he wishes he could listen to it every night. One day, that noise will be the only thing audibly confirming you're still alive.

-

Months pass and you're only getting worse. You barely leave your room now, too weak to even do so. You eat little, and it's showing in your sunken cheeks and eyes. You feel yourself withering away, loosing color, drying like a dying flower. Sukuna is in grief. He struggles to look at you, and visiting you falls heavy on him every time. He always finds himself thinking afterwards. Regretting that he let himself get this attached, wishing that he could simply forget you. But it doesn't work that way.

He goes to see you, after avoiding you for a week. He's Sukuna, he doesn't have any shame. You're sleeping, like you usually are when he comes to visit you. Your snoring is laboured, and it sounds painful. This time, the doors and the silence don't wake you up. He watches you, curled up under a stack of blankets, rising and falling with your struggles to breathe. How foolish he was, to think forgetting you would be as easy as avoiding you for days. How evil he was, trying to forget you while you are still alive under his wing, still his responsibility. Still his.

He sits next to you and leans over you, fingertips ghosting over your face. The snoring stops and you flutter your eyes open, turning in bed and feeling his body next to yours. You smirk at him, eyes adjusting to the light, and smile when you recognize him. ''Master.'', your arms wrap around his neck as you welcome him, your voice dry, but lively as you beckon him closer. ''I missed you.''.

He comes down to plant a kiss to your forehead. ''I missed you too, darling.''. Oh, the things that escape his mouth when he's alone with you. He cups your face, enjoying how much healthier you look with a smile on your face. ''Feeling any better?'', he rubs your cheek, lingering closely above your face.

You nod, but both of you know you only feel better because you saw him. Still, the little surge of happiness that brings you gives you more energy than you've had the whole week. You wiggle to the edge of the bed, making space and inviting him to join you. Sukuna lies down, hooking one arm underneath your neck and pulling you flush against him.

You wrap your arm around him and lean your head against his shoulder. He's still as big as you remember him, unfaltering in the face of your illness. It's comforting. ''You didn't visit in a while. Were you busy?'', you ask, stroking his back. ''How were your days?''

''Monotone.'', he says. ''The villagers bring remedies for you every day, and wish for you to get well.'' It's no wonder. So many times, Sukuna found himself hesitating to kill just because you were sitting on his knee, dressed in something too pretty to be splattered with blood. In the local villages, word spread that you have ''domesticated'' Sukuna. As if such a thing was possible. Or was it?

''Oh?'', you smile. ''I didn't think they would notice my absence.''. You always were supposed to be Sukuna's accessory and nothing more. Remedies and good wishes make it sound like you're more important than just a pet. So it really is that obvious...

''They did.'', he says, and lowers his head, brushing his nose against your face. ''Some took that as an opportunity to gift me new pets.''

You blink at him, a bit taken aback by his honesty. You keep smiling anyways. ''Did you take any?'', you ask, and he sees nothing but genuine curiosity in your eyes. The truth is, you've had a lot of time to think about your place in Sukuna's mansion. You knew, especially in sickness, that you were never entitled to exclusivity with him. You knew that at some point you would have to be replaced, just by the virtue of being a mortal. A human, who would age and become ugly, wrinkled and useless. You were just unlucky enough to meet this fate sooner than you should've.

Sukuna sighs, the weight of the conversation shifting to him. ''Not to bed, no.'', he says.

You're quiet while you think of what to say. You still have a habit of picking words when you're with Sukuna, but the times when he would punish you for improper formulation are far behind you. "Why not?", you settle. You hope the implication is there, that you wouldn't be so mad even if he did.

Why not? Because he thinks it might break him. Because the image of someone else in your place, under him, feels unnatural and wrong. He thinks the guilt might eat him alive. For once in centuries, someone else's needs come before Sukuna's. He is gone, so far gone. You've raised his standards, and he's not sure anyone he takes now will be able to live up to them. Besides, training a new pet to fit your mold would take years, and even then... He couldn't train someone to love him. Not like you do.

''I wouldn't want you to hold back because of me.'', you say, and he realizes he's been quiet for too long. Years ago, if you dared to imply that Sukuna would do such a thing as hold back because of you, that he cared, you would've been minced meat ready for dinner. Now, he looks down at you tenderly when you say it. Well, a tender look from Sukuna is a docile one. You've gotten used to the way that Sukuna communicates love. Subtly, innocuously.

''Worry about getting well, pet.'', he shuts down the conversation, and moves away from you, sitting back on the bed. ''Any wishes? Food? Activities?'', he asks, and feels your forehead with the back of his hand.

Food? No, but... ''I'd like you to stay, please.'', you say, and take his hand with the two of yours, feeling it up with your thumbs.

Sukuna resists the urge to roll his eyes, knowing the thought of annoying him would upset you greatly. ''That's a given. Anything else?''

You pretend to think, then just babble your favorite food. Sukuna takes your order to Uraume. But when he comes back, you're already asleep again. He waits by your side, but you don't wake, so eventually he leaves. By the evening, the plate of your favorite food remains untouched.

-

You can't leave the bed on your own anymore. Sukuna carries you outside when you're feeling good enough. You barely have the strength to latch onto him securely. Still, it's hard to slip out of the grasp of his four arms. He says you've gotten pale. You lay in his lap and bask in the sun, while he tells you about his day or reads a book out loud for you to enjoy. You wish you could talk to him more, but your voice leaves you as days of endless coughing wreck your throat. No herbs and teas ease your condition anymore. You wait for your final day.

And Sukuna doesn't know when he's given up on the idea that you might get better. But he starts spending whole days with you, leaving your side only to sleep in his bed. He tends to almost all your needs personally. You think that if you asked him to get on his knees for you, he would. He is not familiar with this ache that brews in his chest when he looks to his side and doesn't see you there. It feels violating. To be as powerful as he is, and yet completely helpless in the face of the sickness that drains you in front of his very eyes.

He plays with your thinning hair one morning, and you look at him from his lap, as adoringly as always. ''Isn't it funny?.'', you say, and he snaps out of his thoughts to look at you. ''I always imagined dying by your hand.'', you kiss his hand again, planting your dry, blue lips against his knuckles. ''Who would have thought?''.

You, you little human. You made him feel like a fool, like a coward. You made him feel powerless. Who could ever get away unscathed with making Sukuna feel like this? The thought of killing you now, even out of mercy, fills him with horror. He thinks he couldn't live carrying the burden of your death on his back. It's already hard for him as is.

When he's not with you, he withers away in his room, waiting. And when the servants finally come, and tell him you're at your last strengths, he feels as tense as he feels relieved. The servants shake in fear of his reaction, and he simply dismisses them. In a thousand years of his existence, he doesn't remember having to prepare to enter a room. His hand trembles as he brings it up to push the door open. He dreads what awaits him inside.

He expected blood, hysteria, chaos, yet there's none of it when he walks in. Just the pained noises of your breathing. A servant, your favorite, sits by your side and wipes sweat off your forehead. She talks to you in a comforting tone and pats your head gently. When he walks in the room, she lowers her head and moves to leave. It's only a second, but he sees the sad look on your face. ''Stay.'', he orders, and the servant bows and thanks him.

You move your attention to him, raising your hand to greet him weakly. He picks it up and bends down to kiss it. There's tears in your eyes as he settles into a seat next to you, and you open your mouth in an attempt to say something.

''Easy now.'', he shushes you, and helps you into his lap. You lean back, looking at him through a blur. His features appear even more doubled through the tears, and you still find his beauty mesmerizing. Your master. Your own little god and protector. Although he regrets it, you've never claimed the title of his spouse. Yet, he still stuck by your side, until parted by death. In sickness and in health.

He wipes your tears, and the mouth he conjures onto his hand kisses your forehead. One set of his hands caresses your face, the other massages the tension out of your bony shoulders. Sukuna knows how important it is for you to pass in peace. He doesn't want to curse you, or have despair turn you into a curse. "Relax now.", his voice is so soothing, as if lulling you to sleep. "It won't be long". You weep. What did an ordinary human like you do to deserve this honor? To be comforted on their death bed by a god. To be guided to death by him.

"Master.", you sob. "I'm so scared..."

Delicate touch against your skin. Sharp nails grazing your cheek ever so slightly, just barely enough to make their presence known. "Have no fear.", Sukuna looms over you like a snowdrop. "Where you go now, pain won't follow.". You speak to him a little longer. Tell him all the things you always wanted to tell him, but were scared of the consequences. Dangerous words, ones that were rarely associated with Sukuna. Love. And Sukuna is attentive, so human. Your blinking slows and you find comfort in his voice, as he returns every loving word back to you. Your pained breathing follows, and your eyelids are so heavy. But the sight of him is so hypnotizing, you wish you never had to look away. "You are so brave, my little dove. Go now, be free.". You were too good for this wretched palace anyways. The sight of him is etched in your memory as you close your eyes. "It was a pleasure to have you by my side.", you listen, feeling control over your body slip through your fingers. When you can't move, or feel his touch, you still hear his calm voice. "When you're ready, come back to me. I'll be waiting for your return.". Then everything is quiet, for you and for him. The servants cries are muffled by the sheets, where she has her head pressed by your side.

The hallways, silent except for the busy tapping of feet. Outside, the wind blows petals off of blooming flowers, leaving them bare and stranded. Autumn is here to carry you away.

Servants hold their breath when Sukuna walks by. One wrong look at him and the walls would be painted red. Just like before. Before you. And it's not long before Sukuna looks like a monster again - red eyes and a permanent frown etched on his face. Villagers bring bouquets, and lay them to the right of his throne, where you used to sit. He stares them all down, and only for a moment thinks that maybe, humans are not the scum he thought they were. But then he remembers, they only mourn you because you held him back from his destructive tendencies. Scum.

And he kills again. The first is a villager from afar, where news of your passing hasn't reached. Ripped to shreds for mentioning you. The women who screamed, their blood soaks the carpets and seeps through the wooden floor, dripping down to the cellars. He feels like himself again, unhinged, unbeatable.

Until the day is over, and he goes back to his empty room. His cold, empty bed, and the old habit of reaching for you in his sleep, only to grab nothing instead. And the crocheted figures of the two of you on his nightstand, watching him as he struggles to sleep alone. He can't bear it. So he leaves, and doesn't come back for days, weeks, months.

Smoke clouds the skies on the horizon once again, after years and years of peace and clarity. As far as the eye stretches, the world will know of Sukuna's wrath. But as thrilling as it feels to conquer again, when the village is burned and ash covers the grass on the ground, the thought of you still lingers. Your devastated eyes the first time he's killed before you. The first time he's felt guilty about his monstrous nature. When he comes back, no one's warm embrace awaits him. No one's there to brighten up his day. No amount of blood shed and villages burned replace the emptiness you left behind in his heart.

The grief settles, and sits heavy in Sukuna's chest, as he assumes position in his lonely throne again, and gazes at the row of people waiting to beg, talk, offer... bore him. Another eternity of boredom. An eternity of picking through thousands of humans, in vain hopes of finding you again. In vain hopes of recognizing you, even if it's lifetimes from now, when the last memory of your face has already faded from his mind. When generations change, and the thought of a monster like Sukuna being capable of tenderness vanishes. When the fire in his chest, ignited by love, is already a memory so distant, that recalling it feels surreal.

Maybe he will forget you by then. Maybe times will harden him again, and the idea of a pet becoming his lover will make him laugh. But for now, the thought of finding you in a crowd, taking you in his arms and never letting go, is his comfort and safe place. For now, he will wait for you. As long as it takes, like a stone, unyielding against the passing of time.

[viennakarma]

Something you paid for

Fernando Alonso x Reader

Summary: Two years into the best relationship of your life, you find out that Fernando thinks you don't love him. But it get worse and you realize the whole world think of you as gold digger.

Word count: 5.7k

Tags: female!reader, established relationship, slut shaming, reader is confused, fernando is even more confused, miscommunication, cursing, a bit angsty, hurt/comfort, soft smut (almost not there), happy ending, not beta read

Relationship: Fernando Alonso x Reader

Note: I'm honestly not 100% sure about this story, a had another ending planned but I wanted it to be HEA. I don't know. :(

I'm sorry if it's rushed or full of mistakes. Feedback and opinions are appreciated xx

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It was supposed to be just a pause in your studies. Something quick since your brain was already mushy from studying and writing your research for too long.

So when you picked up your phone, to aimlessly scroll through social media, you didn’t expect to see a new, sudden rush of comments on your instagram page. There were thousands of comments in your last post, calling you a gold digger, and much, much worse. Ever since you started dating Fernando, you had been getting these comments, and in the beginning they were worse but slowed down with time. Now they were on a new high again. Confused more than anything, you went on to try and find out what happened for this to happen all of a sudden. You and Fernando hadn’t gone out together for more than two weeks and you hadn’t been to a race week for a month.

After digging you eventually found out what happened. Deuxmoi posted something that made everyone quickly think it was you.

A lady who’s 12 years younger than her famous Spanish Formula One driver boyfriend, is known for being with him for his money. Many tried to warn him, but it seems like he doesn’t believe or doesn’t care.

Confused, you stared at the post, scrolling through hundreds of nasty, poisonous comments. That wasn’t true. Fernando did give you lots of presents and spoiled you a lot but he did this out of his own want, not because you asked for or demanded it. He was constantly giving you things, especially clothes, shoes and bags, and loved seeing you wearing them. He also gave you an Aston Martin car on your last birthday. He even went as far as getting you a credit card attached to his, for whenever you needed to buy books or go on a shopping spree. You never minded it because you knew he liked it, instead of refusing you were just grateful for his generosity.

You wondered if you should talk about it with him, but deep down you knew Fernando was never one to care for gossip of any kind. And this probably wasn’t even true to begin with, just someone trying to stir the pot. So you just limited the comments in your posts and went on about your day.

A week later you went to the race, it was Silverstone, and the last before summer break. You decided to dress your best, wearing clothes that were pretty and elegant and had been given to you by Fernando.

He always treated you like a princess, he was kind and patient, and always found a way to align your schedules to spend time together. He liked taking you on trips during summer break and to ski trips during winter break. Fernando adored having you around in race weeks, you could see in his face that he was radiant with your presence. And you loved all the gifts and the trips but you especially loved staying home with him, lazing around, making love on the sofa and taking walks hand in hand in his hometown. You loved helping him cook, trying your best to follow his orders and not mess up his recipes. 

You walked into the paddock hand in hand, and you kept him company whenever you could. He would keep you around the most, only letting you go when he had meetings or media duties. During that time, you would go back to his room and do a little more of your research, writing your thesis.

You left his room so you could grab a snack and a coffee at the hospitality, but as you passed by a hallway, you heard someone saying your name in conversation. You stopped, leaning against the wall to hear, with a glance, you saw two mechanics talking.

“Seems like everyone tried to warn him, man. But it’s like he doesn’t mind dating a gold digger.”

“Is she a gold digger, really?”

“Man, she doesn’t do anything! She doesn't even work.”

“Has anyone warned Fernando?”

“Everyone.”

You went back inside his driver’s room, sitting down, completely shocked. So that’s what people thought of you? You knew people on the internet talked about it, but they were strangers so you wouldn’t allow yourself to mind because those people didn’t know you. But the people in the garage? They’ve known you for almost two years now, you were always kind and polite to them, even going as far as bringing them cookies and donuts as thank you for welcoming you so well.

You avoided crying, it would ruin your makeup, and Fernando would notice it very quickly. So you just sat there, numb. Thinking about how everyone believed you were with Fernando because of his money and nothing else.

When Fernando found you again, before he had to go get ready for the race, he noticed you were a little down.

“You should not study so hard on the weekends, princesa.” He muttered, hugging you from behind and leaving a gentle kiss to your neck. Of course, he would think you were just tired.

“You are absolutely right, mi amor,” you smiled a little, turning around so you could hug him properly, “do you have time for a little kiss?”

“Even two,” he joked.

You ended up sitting on his lap, making out like two teenagers, until someone knocked on the door, calling Fernando to go get ready.

“Hey, good luck, yeah?” You said, kissing him one more time then kissing the back of his hand, “I love you.”

You watched the race from the garage, feeling self conscious now that it seemed like everyone thought you were leeching off of Fernando.

In the end, Fernando got P3 which was a great result and you celebrated wildly, proudly watching him get on the podium.

After his post race meetings, you met him in his room.

“Let’s go out to celebrate! Dinner is on me!” You hugged him, mood better now than before.

You and him ended up going out for dinner, at a high end restaurant, dressed to the nines. It was fun, you listened to Fernando talking about the race, then he asked you what you thought about the race.

Before dessert, you went into the bathroom to retouch your makeup and freshen up. When you came back, your tiramisu was already there. You and Fernando shared the dessert, laughing to each other.

When the waitress came, you picked the opportunity.

“Dear, can we get the tab please?”

“It’s already taken care of, Madam.”

Your smile faltered, and you looked at Fernando as she left. He was smiling like he couldn’t hold it in.

“Fernando! I said dinner was on me!”

“Why would I let you pay, princesa?”

“Because you got a podium today! As a celebration!” You whined, upset. Fernando pulled your chair, until you were right beside him and he kissed your cheek.

“I like paying for you, Hermosa,” Fernando stood up, offering you a hand, “come on, you can treat me right in our hotel room, what about that?”

You smiled as he pulled you away, but something still nagged at your brain.

You and Fernando took the private plane back to Madrid after the date, because he had sponsor meetings over the week, and you honestly wanted to sleep in your bed. The trip was quick, and while Fernando took a nap, you tried studying, but your mind kept going back to being called a gold digger.

Deep down, you really wanted to talk to Fernando about it, but you were unsure if he could fix this in any way. What could he do? Make a post on instagram saying hey, my girlfriend isn’t leeching off of me as most you think!? You did live with Fernando, for six months now, and he paid all the bills and the house was his. But he also gave you many many gifts.

When you got home, putting your bags inside the closet, you two just changed into sleepwear, ready to doze off.

Then Fernando opened his bag and grabbed a small box.

“Oh, I had forgotten! Got you a present last week in Austria!”

He handed you the box, and with your heart beating fast, you opened it to a beautiful vintage watch. It was gold, delicate with a beautiful bracelet. There was a lump in your throat as you stared at the piece.

“You didn’t like it? It’s ok, princesa, I’ll get you another one,” he said, with a gentle smile.

“I don’t need another watch, Nando. You gave me this one not even a month ago,” you raised your wrist, showing him the brand new one he gave you.

“I want to give it to you. It doesn’t matter,” he shrugged.

“And I don’t want it,” god, you didn’t want to sound so ungrateful, but how could you tell him that his presents felt like something else now? “You have to stop giving me so many presents,” you said, trying to put into words what you were feeling.

“But that’s how I won you over, why would you refuse my presents now?”

Something about the nonchalance in his voice made you stop, stomach dropping. That’s how I won you over? That’s how he believed your relationship came to be? That’s why he thought you were together?

“What did you say?” You paused, suddenly turning to him, it felt like a punch to the throat, “You- you believe I’m a gold digger? You believe it?”

Fernando walked up to you, putting both hands on your waist, a soft smile gracing his face.

“Amor, you know I don’t mind spending my money on you. Quite the opposite, I love to spoil you.”

You stood there, speechless for a couple of seconds. Then you snapped out of it, pushing his hands off you.

“That’s not what I asked!” Your voice sounded louder, you tried to regain your composure, “people talk a lot, the press too, but you know the truth, right?!”

“I’m a rich man, I like providing you with the luxurious lifestyle you lead. I don’t care that you enjoy my money.”

His words made it so much worse. It made you nauseous, the idea that all this time, he’s been thinking of you as a gold digger, as someone who’s only with him for his money and for what he could provide for you.

“No, Fernando- no!” Your voice wavered, “that’s not true! I love you, you know that right?”

“Why are you so caught up in some silly rumor?

“You know right? You know I love you.” You pressed further waiting for an answer. Hoping against hope that he knew it deep down, that he could acknowledge that you harbored love for him.

“Amor, we have such a great dynamic like this. I don’t need your love, just your loyalty and for you to be my pretty girl.”

He was so calm and reassuring, like he had made peace with the fact that you didn’t love him. Like he wasn’t bothered at all by the fact that you were supposedly a gold digger. His dismissal broke something inside you.

“So you don’t- you don’t believe I love you?”

You felt pathetic and helpless, repeating the same words again and again, hoping and praying for a different answer from Fernando.

“Come on, I’m really tired, can we go to sleep?

“Fernando.”

“I’m going to wait for you in bed,” was all he said, dismissing you completely.

You walked out of the room at the same time he went into the bathroom, you held your head up until you softly closed the door behind you, then finally the tears spilled. You went to the bathroom downstairs, the farthest you could go away from him as the sobs broke from your throat violently.

Sliding down on the floor you wondered if everything was lie. You knew it wasn’t but the fact that he thought you were only there for the money was completely wrong. How long had he been thinking that? How many times had he heard you say “I love you” and thought it wasn’t true? You didn’t even know what to do or what to feel. How could you feel if this whole time while you were pouring your heart into this relationship he thought you were just leeching off of him? How can you love someone so deeply and still live with the fact they think of you as a freeloader? Did he joke with his friends like yeah, she’s a gold digger but at least she’s loyal and fucks me well? 

Your chest hurt and you felt repulsive, making your way to the living room, opening a bottle of his whiskey, not bothering with a glass, just sipping it straight from the bottle.

What could you do now? Talk to him? Tell him you’re not with him for his money? After two whole years accepting his every gift with open arms? After getting a fortune worth of presents? After letting him pay for your books, textbooks, new laptop? After letting him pay for dates, trips, clothes, accessories, shoes and jewelry?

You hated yourself for it now. For taking it just because you thought it was his love language, not because deep down he was trying to keep you, buying your affection.

After spending the whole night awake, nursing a bottle and with only your repulsive thoughts as company, you watched as the sun rose from the big living room window.

It was time to fix it.

Fernando was an early riser almost every morning, so after the sun fully rose in the sky, you went in the kitchen and prepared coffee, to cut the effect of the alcohol. You weren’t drunk, really.

“Morning, bebé! You woke up earlier than me today?” He said, passing you with a kiss to your cheek, then going to the cabinet for a mug. He was so unbothered by your argument last night it was pissing you off.

“I didn’t sleep.”

He paused, looking at your face.

“We should talk.” You readied yourself. Fernando stopped in front of you, attentive. “I’ve been hearing a lot this past week that I’m a gold digger, this has been making me feel some kind of way, and I wanted to address this with you. Last night you were tired and we probably misunderstood each other…”

“Where are you going with this, corazón?” He asked, confused.

“I’m not with you for your money, Fernando. Do you understand that?”

He stood silent, which only made you feel worse.

“I want you to stop giving me presents without a proper occasion. And I want you to stop paying stuff for me. And we’re going to share house bills.” You laid it all out, after thinking hard all throughout the night.

“What are you talking about? No, I don’t accept it.” He frowned, “that wasn’t the deal when we moved in together.”

“Because I didn’t know everything back then. I don’t want to feel like I’m taking advantage of you, and I don’t live at your cost like this.”

“No, Y/N.” He took a step back, shaking his head as if you had said the most stupid thing he had ever heard.

“I’m serious, Fernando.”

“No, I’m not negotiating this. I pay for everything. That’s how it’s been and that’s how it will be.”

“I just want to show you that I’m not with you for the money! I’m not what they’re calling me! No more presents, Fernando.”

“You took them.”

“Because I thought you wanted me to have them!”

“I wanted you to have them so you would want to stay with me!”

You gasped, hearing it from his mouth finally. The tears finally started flowing, and you swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady even with the tempest happening inside your chest, staining the beautiful story of your relationship. Well, what you thought was a beautiful relationship.

“You’re just like them, right?” You said, defeated, “you think of me as a gold digging whore. You probably never defended me when they called me that.”

“I gave you all this stuff because I didn’t want you to leave!”

“It was never about the fucking money! And guess what? You lost me anyway!” You marched to the bedroom, Fernando hot on your heels.

“Don’t. Don’t leave.” He said, following you. “I did everything for you to never leave!”

“Everything but loving me! I don’t fucking care!” You unlatched your necklace, putting it on the table, “I don’t care about your money and the jewelry and the clothes and the bags!” You put down your watch and earrings too. Everything he had given you not because he wanted you or loved you, but because he thought they were the price to pay to keep you around.

“Fuck, I love you!” You shouted, feeling desperate and lost, “And all you see me as is something you paid for. A toy you can parade around and look pretty in your arm! You don’t even love me, Fernando. I could write a list about everything I love about you, and none of it would be your stupid money!”

In the closet, you picked a bag, and started putting your clothes inside. Then you noticed how most of them were gifts from him. So you put it back, taking only what you had bought yourself. Fernando stood there, helpless as you packed, putting clothes and a few shoes in a couple of baggage. You also took your study material and laptop, which he had gifted you, but you knew you’d refund him.

“Stop, no,” Fernando tried to stop you as went into the garage, “I do, I love you.”

“You don’t, Fernando. You’re not even sure of that.” You shook your head, putting the bags inside the car. The Aston Martin he had given you, “you have to think. If you really love me as you say, then why do you love me? Because I’m eye candy you can take to galas? Because I’m a good fuck? Because I stand there and look pretty when you have to kiss those old men’s asses?”

You didn’t give him a second, getting in the car and starting the engine.

“This is so messed up, oh my god, how could I let myself believe this for two entire years?” You whispered to yourself, accelerating the car and driving off. 

Through the rear view, you could see Fernando standing there, doing nothing.

You drove and wiped the tears away, breathing in. When you moved in with Fernando, you hadn’t been able to get out of the lease of your flat because you still had a few months on your renting contract. Now it felt like luck that you had a place to stay. Despite getting your doctorate degree, you didn’t have any friends in the city, only a few acquaintances here and there.

You got to the apartament, not bothering to unpack your bags, only leaving it on the bedroom floor. You took your study material and with your phone in hand, you sent Fernando via transfer a total 4000 euros, for what you hoped covered the “laptop and books expenses” as you wrote in the little note.

Then you laid on the bed, crying yourself to sleep.

You woke up and it was getting dark, the sun setting outside. Checking your phone, there were fourteen missed calls from Fernando, and a notification, showing that he had returned the money to you, with additional 30000 euros and only “no” written on the little note. Huffing, you sent the whole amount back and blocked him, so he couldn’t transfer any more money to you.

He still had not realized what was wrong, he was still thinking money was your motivation.

The next few days felt like a haze, you were barely getting any sleep, only eating and writing your research, which ultimately reminded you of Fernando, since it was a study on aerodynamics. You couldn’t lie to yourself, thinking of how many times you stared at the door, waiting and hoping he would understand and come after you.

-

Fernando had work commitments in England, and going back to Madrid, he ended up giving George and his girlfriend a lift. Fernando was visibly not himself as soon as George saw him.

“How’s Y/N doing?” George asked, casually. But from the way Fernando’s face dropped, he could tell something was wrong, “trouble with the missus?” He joked, tried to lighten the mood.

“She- uh, she left.” Fernando muttered.

“What do you mean, she left?” Carmen joined the conversation, “She’s traveling?”

“No- no- I guess we broke up.”

“You guess?!” George’s voice went a little high pitched out of nervousness.

“Fernando, what happened?” Carmen tried to understand. 

Despite not being exactly best friends, you and her were pretty close, always spending time together whenever both of you were on race weekends. The fact that you’re both engaged academics was also a common topic between you.

“You know about the rumors, right?” Fernando started, hesitating.

“What rumors?” George paused.

“That she’s only with me for the money,” Fernando muttered.

“All girlfriends of drivers are accused of that at some point, what’s new?” George pushed.

“I might have implied that I agree with that.”

“Oh, my god,” Carmen covered her mouth, absolutely shocked, “What?”

“Fernando, respectfully- Are you fucking insane?!” George exclaimed, jaw slack, “she looks at you all lovey-dovey, like- like- you’re the only person in the entire earth and you think she’s with you for the money?”

“She would never be like that! She’s so smart and kind,” Carmen added.

“I know- I just- I don’t know! Maybe I let the rumors get to my head!” he ran both hands over his face, exasperated, “And she always lets me pay, and she always takes the presents, I don’t know!”

Then, Fernando explained about how you tried to pay for dinner, and you refused his gift, he told them about the argument and how you wanted to set boundaries about money and gifts.

“She was trying to prove to you that she’s not a freeloader. She was trying to show that the money didn’t matter, and what did you do? You pushed more money on her!” George practically spat the words in Fernando’s face.

“Eres muy estúpido, Fernando. Te lo digo como tu amiga.” Carmen muttered.

“I don’t know what she said but I heard the word stupid, and I agree.” George backed her up, “Go talk to her, apologize and fix it.”

“That is,” Carmen interrupted, face serious, “If you really love her. Otherwise, better let her go find someone who can really love her, it’s what she deserves. Love and happiness.”

Fernando swallowed, his chest constricting with the mere thought of you moving on, of someone else having you in their arms.

Getting back home without you there felt like a thick fog day, cold and empty and he missed you, he missed his sun. He missed you jumping into his arms as soon as he opened the door. He missed the smell of the candles you always lit while studying. He even missed the little mess of textbooks, colorful highlighters and notes scattered around.

Home didn’t feel like home without you.

In the middle of the living room, there were big cardboard boxes, as he opened, he noticed they were full of clothes, shoes and bags he had gifted you throughout your relationship. In a smaller box, all the jewelry he had given you, even anniversary gifts. Even the beauty products he had given you like perfumes, makeup products, and face creams.

You had returned every single thing.

And on the coffee table, your keys to the house and the keys of your Aston Martin DB12.

It seemed like you had returned everything that could tie you to him, everything that made him wrongly call you a gold digger. And it felt painfully like a goodbye.

-

While mixing your homemade coffee, your eyes flicked to the door, then to your phone on the table, facing up. Despite the searing pain in your chest, and the sorrowful hole in your heart, maybe it was time to start to move on. It had been more than a week, if he wanted to come back to you, he would’ve come by now.

You got ready to meet with your advisor, and she brought up a topic that had been common now, about you taking a position as a professor for a couple of Engineering subjects. She said it’d be good for you to work in your area while on the last few months before getting your doctorate degree. You had mostly denied the other times she offered the position, because you wanted more time with Fernando, because you wanted the freedom to fly around the world following him to his races.

Now- now you had more bills to pay and no boyfriend to follow. You also had more free time, a broken heart and a vacant mind. 

“I’m considering the position. I believe it could do me good right now.” You said to her, thoughtful, “can I confirm with you tomorrow?”

After going through the meeting and getting a review on your thesis, you went back to your flat, taking a long shower. You had just dressed in pajamas when the doorbell rang. With long strides, you were faced with Carmen, and not Fernando as you expected.

“From your face I take it he hasn’t spoken to you, yes?” Carmen muttered, seeing the visible disappointment in your face.

“I’m sorry, please come in,” you opened the door wider, forcing a smile. Carmen had a couple of bags that she set on a nearby table.

“He told us what happened, I’m so sorry,” Carmen hugged you and you immediately started crying, since you had no one to talk about the past few days, “I brought chocolates and wine, so we can talk.”

Over chocolates and a bottle of Merlot, you told her everything, starting at the deuxmoi rumor. She looked horrified when you said word for word what had transpired the last time you spoke with him.

“I just don’t understand why he didn’t come talk to you yet,” Carmen added, at some point.

“Because he won’t, at all.” You say with your voice shaky from crying so much the past hour.

“Don’t say that. He loves you.” Carmen said.

“I’m not entirely sure about that,” you shrugged, pretending it didn’t hurt as much as it did, “He’ll find another one, someone who can enjoy his money since it seems like it’s all that matters to him.”

Carmen didn’t say anything to that and you knew she couldn’t argue with the facts. Later, George dropped by to get her, going up to your flat so he could hug you quickly and mutter “I’m sorry”.

With a heavy heart, you slowly rebuild a healthy routine again, doing grocery shopping, cooking meals, going to the gym, studying and everything.

One day, you went back home after going on a shopping spree, and as you got into the hall, Fernando was there, standing in your hall, waiting by the door. You stopped, almost losing the timing to leave the elevator. When you walked closer, he noticed you. Meeting his eyes was different this time, uncertain and a little distant.

“What do you want?” You asked, you hoped your voice would come out harsh, but it only sounded defeated.

“Can we talk?” He asked, and you nodded, opening the door and letting him in.

There was a moment of awkward silence as you put the shopping bags down. After doing that, you crossed your arms and stood against a side table, waiting quietly.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, for not fully believing your love, I guess I was so focused in protecting myself, that I ended up hurting you, and it was never my intention,” Fernando stood just two steps away from you, his eyes holding such pain and fear, that it made you crumble, he didn’t look like he’d been sleeping well, “I love you, I really do. For who you are and nothing else.”

You wanted to give in so bad, you wanted to run into his arms and never let go, but you also didn’t want to suffer again.

“How do you know? You never knew that for two years, how would you know it now?” You shook your head, tears starting to fill your eyes again.

“Because it is hard being without you,” he said, like he was trying to find the right words, “I can’t sleep without you. My life is miserable without you around.”

You only nodded, covering your lips with a hand. You wanted to tell him that you had not gotten proper sleep without him, that your life feels empty, that not knowing about him everyday was painful. But you needed more. You needed something you could hold onto, and maybe, just maybe take another chance at the two of you.

“I- I made a list. Like you said,” his voice failed, and you noticed his hand was shaking a little as he held the paper, “I love you. I love coming home to you every time and feel our house so lived in. I love how you always hug me first thing after I’m back home. I love the silly texts you send me randomly throughout the day talking about your day. I love the selfies with your tongue out too,” that made you two chuckle, and the movement made your tears fall, so you wiped them, staring at him intently, “I love that you’re always the smartest person in any room we’re in. I love that you’re humble, never showing off or being a smartass. I love how cheeky and witty you are. I love that you talk in your sleep. I love that scar in your knee, because it shows you were always a little naughty, even as a kid. I love that there’s always fresh flowers at home. I love that you love kids. I love that you get along well with my family. I love that you-”

He didn’t finish, as you closed the distance and launched yourself at him, hugging him tight. Fernando held you close, pressing you into him, inhaling your perfume, feeling like he was at home again.

“I’m so sorry, princesa. So so sorry. I missed you so much,” he whispered against your cheek, kissing it softly.

“I missed you too, Nando” you said, eyes closed and allowing yourself to just feel him again, “I love you so much.”

You let go, holding his face with both hands, looking into his eyes before kissing him softly. He, on the other hand, held the back of your neck firmly, licking your mouth open, until he had tasted your mouth, leaving you breathless.

“Come back home with me, princesa.”

At that, you took a step back.

“I- I can’t, Nando. I got a new job at the university.”

“What?”

“I thought you weren’t coming back to me,” you muttered, and your words made him wince, “I needed something to hold on to.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” he ran a hand over his face, looking embarrassed for taking so long to come after you.

“I believe we should- we should take a step back, rethink a bit about our dynamic,” you told him, hesitant of his reaction.

“Are you unsure about us?” He asked, visibly worried.

“No, no- I love you- I do-” You started, taking his hand, holding it firmly against yours, “I just think we should rewind a bit. Have my own place and pay my own bills, I just don’t want to feel like that again, I need to regain my dignity in this.”

He kept quiet, because he knew deep down you were right. He felt awful about all the misunderstandings, but he knew you probably felt much, much worse. He should just get on his knees and be thankful you still loved him and still wanted him. He’d take all your conditions to get back with him.

And deep down both of you knew it was for the best. Moving out and living alone, working and seeing him occasionally as a boyfriend. 

Holding your face, he kissed you, leaving little pecks on your lips, your cheeks, your chin, your forehead. You closed your eyes, letting him kiss you, and he muttered how much loved you and how much he missed you, kissing down the side of your neck. He walked you inside and let him, feeling his hands quickly peeling your clothes off, leaving a trail of clothes from the living room to your bedroom.

You parted so you could undress him, pulling at his jacket and the t-shirt.

“I love you, I love you so much,” he mumbled into a kiss, laying you down in bed.

You laid on the bed and he hugged him, making space for him between your legs. He held you, touching your nose with his gently.

“I missed you, princesa,” he kissed your cheek, “I promise I’ll do better from now on.”

“I know you will, baby.” You kissed him again, running your hand down his back, “make love to me now.”

He filled you up at once, and you groaned into his mouth, scratching your nails down his back as you cunt welcomed him. As he fucked into you, slowly at first then picking up pace, he muttered how much he loved you and how sorry he was, over and over.

As you cuddled after, quietly enjoying each other’s company. 

“What do we do about all your gifts?”

“Give them away,” you shrugged.

“Can I convince you to take it back?”

“Not if you still want me in your life,” you muttered. He nodded, placing a gentle kiss on your shoulder.

“You know how I know I love you?” Fernando asked, drawing invisible patterns on your back, “there’s an engagement ring in the third drawer of my bedside table.”

You hesitated for a second, but he knew you well. Better than anyone else.

“I know what you said, I just wanted to let you know. I bought it a week after you moved in with me. I know we’re rewinding a little bit for now, but you’ll be my wife one day.”

“And what if I refuse when you propose?” You smirked, and he pulled your leg over his waist.

“You won’t.”

Note: UGH IDK GUYS :(

[bluerosefox]

Courting Chaos (to Balance)

A KlarionxDanny brain worm that has spawned

Tim Drake, aka Red Robin gets kidnapped suddenly and very randomly by Klarion in the middle of a JL and others meeting.

Leaving with a

"I'LL RETURN HIM WHEN HES NO LONGER USEFUL JUSTICE LOSERS!"

And fire and chaos in his wake.

While the JL, and others scramble to figure out what Klarion has planned this time, Tim manages to break free of whatever Klarion had used to kidnap him only to find himself on a couch and Klarion nervously petting Teekl on his lap while also sitting in a chair across from him.

When Tim goes to demand to know why Klarion kidnapped him Klarion finally speaks.

"Okay, I wanna strike a deal. I won't bug you or your little Young Just US buddies if you help me ask someone out..."

"...What the fuck Klarion?" Was Tim's only response.

-x-x-

So it turns out, every so often the three main entities and actual factions of Order, Chaos, and Balance get together to well discuss things happening in certain Realms, worlds, and timelines. Basicly to touch base, see where everyone was at. Etc etc.

Order was Order. Chaos was Chaos.

Very simple.

Both could be bad. To much order caused restraint and could snuff out growth. To much Chaos could get out of hand and cause ruin.

Both could be good. Order help stabilizes worlds and builds their future. Chaos allowed creativity to roam and brought forth wonderful things.

And Balance.

Well Balance was the very scales that kept both sides in check. They were neutral grounds. The ones that normally oversaw the meetings as well. And despite their low numbers they held powerful entities that more than made up for it.

Balance did their best to keep things in check, sure they do have their own preference sometimes and allowed the scales to tip a tiny bit but always corrected it later if it tips to much.

It was at this meeting, a meeting even Klarion knew better than to do anything too chaotic, pranks were fine but nothing too much, and had been chatting with a newcomer to the side of Chaos (Danielle, call me Ellie, Phantom. She did some heroing on the side but liked causing chaos in her wake to do so, he liked her so far though.) When the bells for the side of Balance to appear announced them.

Ellie had smiled brightly and said her brother was coming with his mentor, turns out her brother was apart of the Balance group which meant that he was strong, strong enough to need a mentor.

He watched as the members of Balance walked, teleported, flew, and other means into the meeting halls. And then froze when his eyes caught sight of him.

Floating next to a blue skined being that was switching ages was a beautiful otherworldly person.

Snow white hair that wisped upwards oh so softly. Glowing green eyes that were cat-like with their piercing glance. A galaxy cloak hanged around his shoulders and seemed to shift with each movement. Star like freckles decorated his face and seemed to glow a soft bluish white. A crown made of ice and aurora lights floated above his head as well.

All in all Klarion couldn't keep his eyes off of the being at all. He nearly spat his water out when Ellie commented that was her brother Danny, or rather.

High King of the Infinite Realms, Daniel 'Danny' Phantom. The Great One. Defeater of the Tyrant King. The Halfa. The Peaceful End. The Balance of the Undead. (And his mentor was the Ghost of Time itself. THE very Keeper of Time, Kronos original form himself.)

Klarion honestly didn't know what to think or rather what emotions he was feeling when he spotted Danny, nor why his face felt so hot and red when the young man looked over at them and smiled. (He was smiling at Ellie but Klarion for some reason hoped it was for him as well)

It wasn't until halfway in the meeting when a rather ingenious prank that Klarion, Ellie, and a few others had set up went off... thing was it strong enough that it had hit Danny's side of the meeting and had hit him.

Now, again pranks were okay but only after the meetings. It was one of the few rules many, even those in Chaos, took seriously because once it was done and over they could go do their things. So for it to happen in the middle of a meeting means someone set their time on the prank wrong and add the fact it hit a person on the Balance side...

Yeah not good.

Only...

Only instead of getting angry, even Clockwork who was seated next to Danny was chuckling, Danny threw his head back and laughed about it. And his laugh... was very cute.

And before he knew it, Klarion had already fallen.

-x-x-

"So yeah.... Since you have a boyfriend and know how to date in this modern age, I need your advice."

".... Klarion just because I'm dating Bernard doesn't mean I know how I did it..."

"Bernard? I thought you were dating that one Supes?"

[lionwitch]

Ok, hear me out. An AU where Janet Drake is best friends with Lex Luthor, Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen.

They met in school, and she's a high society girl, not expected or allowed to be much more than a pretty face, but there's this trio of smart idiots (they did all sorts of stupid stuff at school, but they are overall very, very smart), and they're in all sorts of cool classes and extracurriculars, and she wants to learn

So, she snakes her way into the group with well-timed looks and blushes. They eventually include her in all their activities, and so she learns all sort of stuff that she usually wouldn't be allowed to learn, because they help her keep it in the down low. No, she's not taking classes with them, she's being a proper lady and cheering her smart friends on through the oh-so-hard classes.

At some point or another, they all develop a crush on her, fleeting as it may be (they're hormonal teens and they're required to flirt, it was bound to happen)

They flirt publicly, as it keeps the media from pressuring them into relationships— or so they thought. It backfires when they're adults, the media is demanding Janet settle down and stops leading all three of them on. But there would be a scandal if she picked any of them, so she picks Jack, someone who doesn't love her or she loves, but someone desperate enough to climb the social ladder to care if he loves his wife.

When he's not allowed to flirt anymore, that's where Bruce realizes that he actually liked her.

When Tim comes along, and Janet has to go on trips, she leaves him with her trusted friends. So, Tim learns a lot from his Uncle Lex, learns to shoot a bow from his Uncle Ollie, and loves staying with his Uncle Bruce and his children. He figures him out far too easily and does become Robin when Jason figures he's ready to pass on the mantle to his little brother (because they're brothers. Tim spends a lot of time in their house)

Bruce adores Tim, he really does. It just kinda hurts, that he's Janet's kid, but not his.

Eventually, Janet divorces Jack, and she gets to spend a lot more time in Gotham. But by now Tim is as much Bruce's as he is Janet's, so they co-parent the gremlin that is her son, which leads to a lot of time with Bruce.

Bruce treats her better than Jack ever did, and she trusts him far more. They have the memories of years together. Eventually, Bruce tells her the truth— that he never truly moved on from his best friend.

When they marry, sure it's a media circus, but also not a surprise.

She's also a good mom, to Tim as much as to Dick or Jason.

When Jason finds out Catherine is not his mom, sure he gets curious, but he has a mom already, he's happy. He does want to meet his bio mom, but he agrees to do so safely, not go alone. Fine, B, you can come with.

Joker never happens. Jason is disappointed when he finds his mom is not at all what he expected, and he has a much better one at home.

Eventually, when Damian comes into the picture, he's snappy with Janet. "you will never be my mother, you harlot!" but Janet simply puts a hand on his shoulder and speaks calmly, yet sharp as the blade he threatens her with

"You will not speak to me like that, boy. No, I am not your mother. But I am married to your father, and I hold the authority as such, so you will go up to your room, you will cool down, and you will never threaten or insult me again, or you will be grounded."

"You can't do that!"

"She can. She has my full permission to discipline my kids, Damian. In this house, she holds as much authority as I do." Bruce interjects

Damian, begrudgingly, learns to respect Janet, and eventually he does see her as a second mom

The amount of times Oliver or Lex visit the Wayne-Drake household is absurd, but sue them, they like their friends. This leads to a lot of chaos, because every time Oliver visits so does Roy, and Roy hangs out with Dick and Jason, while Damian sticks to glaring at everyone.

Meanwhile, they dote on Tim, because they sure as hell have a favourite nephew, and it's the one they watched grow inside the belly of one of their best friends, the one they all changed the diapers of, the one they've taught a lot of skills to, the one they helped raise in a way they never helped raise any of the other Wayne boys. They don't even try to hide their preference. Now, of course they like all their nephews, but it's always hilarious because when Tim is around his uncle Lex, he's ten times the evil mastermind he generally is, and Oliver encourages it, simply for the chaos, and so does Janet, while Bruce is downright terrified of the idea of Tim as a villain (everyone is)

[luveline]

Hi lovely!

I saw you’re looking for Hotch requests and I think I requested one before but I forgot what it is oops.

Could I please have one where Jack calls R mom for the first time and she feels super guilty about it but Hotch is super sweet.

Thanks!

ty for requesting 💞 fem (mom and stepmom!) reader, 1.4k

You’re obsessed with your little baby, but you’d loved Hotch’s son for a long time before you had your own, and you’ve continued to love Jack as your own regardless. If anything, having a baby only cemented that you love him. 

Though you’d never disrespect his mother or what she gave up for him, you’re a parent to Jack. When Hotch is home, Jack is home, and when he isn’t you have Jack four days out of the week anyways, splitting him lovingly with his Aunt Jess. You take care of him and you love to do it; being his stepmother is a gift. You love Jack. 

And he loves to cuddle. 

“Rub my hair,” he demands sleepily, crushed as far into your neck and chest as he can be without pushing his brother out of the way. 

“Say please,” you say, already bringing your hand up where it’s sandwiched behind him to stroke the hair from his eyes. “Like this?” 

“Thank you.” 

He’s pretty much always polite when he’s not tired. Which has little to do with you and everything to do with Haley and Hotch, you’re sure, he’d been a picture of a golden child the day you met him and besides the occasional tantrum or naughty spell, he’s a grateful child. He says thank you for things you want no thanks for, when you towel dry his hair at night for bed, or when you help him into his socks. He once said thank you for a kiss on the cheek, as if it wasn’t something you’d wanted to do. 

“You’re welcome,” you say softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from his brow. “Can I have a little kiss?” 

You kiss his brow when he smiles, letting your eyes flutter closed, nose still pressed to his skin. 

“I love you, mommy,” he says, wrapping his arm around your neck with a sleepy snuffle. 

You struggle to answer. The baby gurgles against your chest.

There has been a lot of mommy talk lately. Hotch is calling you mommy often now that the baby’s born, cutesy stuff like, There’s mommy! when you come back from a shower, or How’s your mom? when he’s home from work and he wants to hold the baby, but he wants to check on you at the same time.

He’s never called you Jack’s mom, but Jack’s six. He was bound to get confused, or to feel new feelings, though you weren’t expecting him to do it right now. 

Eventually, you figure you’ll do what’s best for Jack even if that best isn’t something you deserve. “I love you too, baby.” 

“Are you falling to sleep?” he asks. 

You have arms full of children and Hotch will be home any minute if what he said on the phone is true, so you won’t. “Maybe not yet, but you can sleep if you want to. I’m sure dad will wake you up when he gets home.” 

Jack settles in with the baby. Your promise gives him the solace he needs to sleep.

…What if Hotch is angry? 

You’ll tell him what happened, of course, because you don’t have secrets with each other, and even if you did this is something he’s owed, right? He’s been completely candid with you about everything, how he loved Haley, how he feels he failed her in more ways than her death, and how he loves her still. 

You don’t feel like you’re competing for his loyalty or affection, it’s simply clear that he respects Haley’s memory very strongly. What if you tell him what Jack said, and what you hadn’t said, and he’s furious? 

The door opens downstairs. Hotch calls hello, but with Jack and the baby both sleeping, you stay quiet in fear of waking them. You listen to him do a familiar dance, the click of the safe where he retires his firearms, the rushing water of the faucet as he makes himself a glass of water, and then a second you assume to be for you. 

You shuffle Jack from your chest gently, pulling the baby into the curve of your arm and depositing him with an overabundance of caution into the crib. 

You hurry to the door, finger on your lips, startling your husband on the last stair. 

“I need to talk to you about something,” you whisper. 

He gestures for you to walk back down with him. He’s unperturbed by your worry, two glasses in one hand so he can use the other to feel at your shoulder as you take the stairs in front of him. “What happened?” he whispers. 

“It’s–” You wince, descending the stairs with a distinct sense of nausea. “Can we sit down? I’ll make you something to eat.” 

“I’m fine,” he says, following you to the kitchen, where you sit in adjacent chairs at the dinner table. 

You brace your hands on a placemat. 

He laughs and takes them into his own. “Nothing you tell me is worth all this worrying.” 

“It’s about Jack.” 

His smile fades. “What about him, honey?” 

“We were upstairs… You know how he is, he climbed on top of me and we were cuddling because Noah finally fell asleep, and,” —it’s best to just tell, even if you feel clammy and guilty before you’ve admitted to it— “he called me mommy. I’d never tell him to, I promise.” 

Hotch brings his hands up slowly, yours raising with them where he’s holding your wrists. “What did he say?” 

“He said he loved me. ‘I love you, mommy.’” 

“What did you say?” 

Your grimace is apologetic, eyebrows pinched. “I said I loved him too.” 

“And you’re worried that’s not okay?” You nod. “It sounds to me that he was just telling you how he feels. When you wake him up in the mornings and you tuck him in at night, and you’re the person he goes to when he needs a bandaid, you must feel like his mother.” 

“But I’m not.” 

“No.” His dark eyes are relaxed, his brow only a shade of its usual downturn. “Haley is his mother, and she’d love how you treat him. He will always, always know who his mother is. But if he wants to call you mom, a woman who loves him and looks after him with the same tenderness as you do your own, then I think that’s okay, especially with Noah getting older… How do you feel about it?” 

“I love him.” 

He does that silly smile where he’s more happy than he’ll admit to, leaning forward, pressing your hands to his arm and then his lips. “He loves you,” he says. 

Hotch stands and offers a hug. When you take it, he sways you from side to side. “She really would’ve liked you, honey. It was me who let her down.” 

“But her baby calling me mom…”

“I know. It’s a conflicting feeling.” 

You let out a big sigh and slouch in his arms. You’re warm butter under his touch. He reacts accordingly, bending and cupping the back of your neck. 

“It felt awesome,” you confess. He might as well know. After the remorse, you were happy. Jack must really love you. 

“You’re very, very good to him. Just let him love you however he wants to, and I’ll make sure he doesn’t forget who his mother was, and how much she loved him.” 

You wouldn’t let Jack forget her either. 

Hotch leans away to dot a kiss to your cheek before he hugs you again. “How are they? The boys?” 

“Sleeping. Waiting for you to come home and wake them up. Maybe please don’t wake up Noah, he might sleep through the night tonight if we leave him alone.” 

“I won’t. I’ll see him in the morning.” His smile is audible. “I’m a little jealous, I think. Jack hardly ever says he loves me first.” 

“You clearly don’t cuddle enough.” 

“That,” he says, giving your hip a squeeze, “is a low blow. But I’ll allow it.” 

“You’ll allow it?” 

Another adoring sweep of his arms on your back. “You can say what you want,” he amends. “Thank you for taking care of things while I was gone.” 

He doesn’t need to say thank you, you’re a family, but you appreciate the gesture. “You’re welcome, handsome.” 

[hannieehaee]

SERENDIPITY

18+ / mdi

summary: jungkook, god of love and son of venus is given the task by his mother herself to rid the world of you, known as psyche, as your beauty begins to rival her own. unfortunately for all parties involved, jungkook becomes enamored by you upon accidentally pinching himself with his own arrow.

content: cupid!jungkook, psyche!reader, an extremely simplified and smutty version of the og story, afab reader, everyone here is a god/goddess of some sort, side character deaths, the dialogue is very much modern and not fitting of the times, angst(?), fluff, smut, they have sex where she doesnt know who he is multiple times but its consensual, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 8.6k

a/n: for immersion purposes, psyche will be a reader insert and wont be referred to as psyche throughout the story (but jk will be referred interchangeably as cupid). anyways i read this last week during one of the lit courses i decided to take to improve my writing and really enjoyed it!! i hope u guys enjoy it too<3

masterlist | kofi/patreon

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"Why did you call for me, again?"

"Jungkook, pay attention!", hissed his mother, holding her fingers to her temples in stress as one of her many servants walked in with the fruit she'd requested, "I need you to use your arrows on someone."

"What? Why? I thought you didn't like me meddling with people's love lives."

"This is different. This one needs a little help," Venus frowned in sheer annoyance, "She is known as Psyche by many, Y/N by her loved ones. She has become quite a figure among the Roman population. Some have begun to worship her beauty. They pray to her, they bring her offerings, they kiss at her feet, completely disregarding the true Goddess of Beauty."

"And where does this concern me?", Jungkook was beyond bored by his mother's ramblings. On a usual day, he would be out and entertaining himself with the many mortal maidens found around Rome, always guaranteeing himself a partner for the day.

Venus shot Cupid a look as her servants fed her by mouth, making him straighten his back and begin paying better attention. Even as the Goddess of Beauty, Venus was known as one of the most menacing Goddesses to exist, holding far too much power among all Gods and Goddesses. Jungkook couldn't help but feel intimidated by her, even as carefree as he was known to be.

"She has far too many admirers. Even Gods are beginning to show interest in her, yet she is lacking in suitors thus far. I need you to shoot your arrow and tie her off to the most hideous creature you can muster. She may seize from being a disturbance this way."

"Okay, so you want me to doom her to an eternity with a monster?", Jungkook tilted his head in curiosity.

Despite being considered the most beautiful entity, Jungkook knew Venus to be one of the least amicable creatures in all of the land. Mortals were blissfully unaware of her cruelty, thinking her to be the most perfect among all Goddesses. However, Cupid, as her son, knew of the misery that awaited anyone who crossed the Goddess of Beauty.

Venus halted her movements in frustration, scaring the servants nearby before turning to Jungkook in annoyance, "Cupid, my son, you will obey my order without question. I gave you those wings, I gave you that bow, and I gave you that arrow. I don't care how cruel you may think me to be, this is an order. You shall not utilize your powers for your own endeavors until you finish your task," she demanded, "Now, go rid me of that wench before I find someone else to do the job."

With a sigh, Jungkook nodded in defeat, fully aware of the type of punishments his mother could deliver should he disobey her orders. Walking over to the window through which he had originally entered, he pulled his bow and arrow from his back, beginning to fly off with his wings as he embarked on a journey to seek out the mighty Psyche that had his mother so worried.

"Y/N, there's another letter from one of your admirers," announced Psyche's mother, placing the letter on the huge pile of gifts provided by the many civilians who came visit their castle with the hope of getting a glimpse of the beautiful girl.

"Mother, what shall I do with all these? There's so many letters yet not a single suitor," you sighed, frustrated at the lack of prospects you'd had so far, "My sisters have both married, yet I am left alone with no one to seek my heart."

"Child, you should be grateful," said your mother, "You are admired through all the land, vied for as if you were a true Goddess. Someone will come for you one day, rest assured," affirmed your mother, petting your hair as she landed a soft kiss on your forehead and took her leave once more.

It was easy for your parents to grow used to the love and admiration you received. Endless people would come and dedicate themselves to their servitude if it meant as much as receiving your blessing – which was absolutely worthless as a mere princess in a land filled with mystical deities.

Your elder sisters had both been married off months back, finding old yet respectable husbands to take them away and care for them as any and all husbands should. You, however, remained alone with your parents, always hoping that a man would be brave enough to court you.

It was unfortunate, really; the way in which your beauty prevented you from receiving any suitors. You had not chosen to be blessed by Venus herself, nor did you ever hope to become her contender in the title of the most beautiful entity in all of creation. Unlike you, she had found a God to sweep her off her feet, gifting her with the fruit of love himself – her son Cupid. Oh, how you wished he'd shoot his arrow and allow you some rest from this endless search for a husband.

~

As weeks passed by, your parents became more and more worried with your state. You were unconsolable, finding misery in every letter your sisters would send in regard to their new lives with their new families. One of your sisters was already awaiting an heir. Despite your endless happiness for your loving sister, your misery at your own situation prevented you from feeling genuine excitement for a new heir in your family. You wanted your own. You needed your own.

Your constant distress caused your parents to seek out a esteemed Oracle in your city, hoping that she would be able to give some insight about your predicament. She would be able to answer the question as though who and when you would find a suitor.

Visiting her was easy enough, feeling intense excitement at the prospect of an insight into who your beloved would be. Your parents seemed indifferent, but simply hoped to ease your endless concerns.

The Oracle took the form of an old woman, one who was known to assert people's future entirely correctly. Thus far, she was yet to be erroneous in her readings. Such magic was impressive to you, leaving you worried for any bad outcome she could possibly see in your future. If she were to find something unfortunate, there would likely be no way to remedy it. However, your parents assured you that the preventive knowledge would allow you to act accordingly and fix your destiny should you need to.

"The great Psyche," smiled the old woman sitting across from you, "I have heard lots about you."

Bowing your head in respect, you introduced yourself despite her knowing you by the popular name of Psyche, "I have heard of you too. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Oracle. I hope to find a favorable end with you."

"I hope for the same."

Taking your hands, the Oracle felt them, closing her eyes in concentration as she went through every crease and contour of your hands, furrowing her eyebrows every so often. Her emotions translated onto you somehow, making your heartbeat speed up and your own eyebrows furrow in worry.

Suddenly her eyes opened, a clear distress showing through them.

"Your destiny is muddled," she began, "I cannot see too well, but your future is grand and ... it will lead to misfortune to those around you."

Your mother stepped in at such words, inquiring for more information, "What do you mean by this? What is it that you saw?"

"Your child may wed a powerful being. One among the strongest to ever be seen. She shall marry a being stronger than a God, one capable of immeasurable destruction should he choose to engage in such acts."

"A God?", asked your father.

"It is uncertain as per what I see," she responded, "All I can see is his aura radiating stronger than the sun. He shall take her and make her his own, not allowing anything to stand in his way," she reaffirmed.

"I-", you began, unable to finish your sentence as your parents quickly stood up and dragged you onto your feet.

"We shall take our leave," your mother said frantically, "We thank you for your service."

No more questions were asked as your parents dragged you by your hand, leading you out of the cursed place.

The Oracle's words had never been wrong, which meant that your future was sealed. You were to wed something that was not a man. Was he a God? There was just no way of knowing. It could've been a demon or monster seeking the most beautiful woman in the land. It could've been a God seeking a mortal to keep in his chambers as he wed a Goddess. Whatever it may have been, you were terrified.

~

"You shall leave," were your mother's first words upon arriving back to the castle.

"W-what?"

"We cannot keep you here. If a being is to come and rip you away, we cannot allow it to destroy our kingdom. Your fate is sealed, but ours remains," said your mother, your father nodding in agreement beside her.

"Where am I to go?" you whispered in disbelief.

"We will take you to the mountains. Maybe the monster shall not find you there."

"Monster? How can you be so certain?"

"Gods mustn't marry mortals, you foolish child. A God would never have to drag you away, as you would go willingly. It must be an evil creature attempting to attain your beauty."

"But-"

"No 'but's, child. It has been decided," your father gave the final verdict, thus sealing your fate even further.

To have hoped for protection from your parents had been foolish. These were the same royalty who had given away their two eldest daughters to the highest bidders, not caring for proper marriages as long as they meant protection for their kingdom. You were equally worthless to them. Should you pose any danger to their kingdom and you would simply be thrown aside, just as now.

The following days proved as a goodbye as your parents prepared your departure. They assured themselves they shall never see you again, so they made arrangements with that idea in mind. Without a care for your wellbeing, they assured themselves this was the best course of action. Your fate was sealed, after all. There was nothing they could do to protect you any longer.

It was only a few days after your visit to the Oracle that your parents made the long and extraneous walk to the lone mountains neighboring the kingdom. Climbing the highest and most lonesome peak, they bid their goodbyes to you, with your mother letting out a few worthless tears as she looked at you one last time.

Your first few days on the mountain had been miserable. You only had enough food to realistically survive a few days, but your parents had reassured you that your husband would come for you soon, likely aware that you were there for his taking. The constant fear of the most odious taking you away made you feel terror you had never experienced. Jumping into the peaks below you crossed your mind a few times, but you knew you'd survive the fall. Your fate did not predict a tragic death, which meant that any fall would not result in demise. Your metaphorical demise would only come in the form of your husband.

All you could do now was wait for him to come, hoping against all hope that he would not be as monstrous as you dared imagine.

Jungkook was beyond annoyed at his current task.

Despite being a God, he did not hold the same almighty powers many other Gods did. His skill was the intertwining of souls, shooting his arrow any time he knew two people were meant to be tied for life.

In all honesty, he did not care for such a task. The thought of tying Psyche's fate to that of a monstrous being did not bother him in the slightest. He felt quite indifferent about it, not knowing nor caring who Psyche was. He doubted Psyche's beauty could possibly be as menacing as his mother had described, but he still felt some sort of intrigue about her appearance.

Fortunately, his curiosity was soon satiated.

After days of looking for Psyche, he finally encountered her, watching from afar as he spotted a lone woman standing on the cliff of a mountain, completely bare as her clothes laid ripped on the small surface of the mountain. It appeared that she had been there for days, likely having ripped off her own clothes in frustration.

Had you been left here for his taking? Destiny worked in mysterious ways, after all.

As of now, Cupid had only been able to see your backside, as you were facing opposite of him. Even from afar, Jungkook could not deny the beauty of your body. Every curve and contour of it had been sculpted to perfection, making the God salivate at the sight. But Jungkook had come here with a task. He needed to take care of his mother's request. There was no time to thirst after the heavenly body before him.

Reaching behind him, Jungkook grabbed onto his bow and arrow, bringing both to the front as he began to aim at you, prepared to shoot when he got the angle just right. After shooting you, he would aim his arrow at the first creature he encountered, let it be a deer or an actual monster. It did not matter much at the moment.

But as Jungkook had said, destiny worked in mysterious ways.

Jungkook had been entirely unprepared for the moment you turned around, facing him yet not seeing him from his hiding spot in the distance.

Your beauty took his breath away instantly, making him falter in his movements as his focus shifted from his arrow and onto you. Your body was the image of perfection itself, shaped perfectly for his hands to drag themselves across every inch of skin. Your curves were begging to be marked by his lips, being just the perfect size for any God to lose himself in them. And your face? Gods, it was the prettiest sight in all of Rome.

Jungkook understood now why his mother had felt threatened by your mere existence. He understood why you had so many admirers, yet no suitors brave enough to make you theirs.

Without realizing, Jungkook's hand had slipped during his daydreaming, making him misplace his hand and causing his arrow to grace him across the chest, creating a gash right by his accelerated heart.

Oh.

Oh.

Fuck.

You ...

Gods, you beautiful thing. You gorgeous, beautiful thing.

The effects of the arrow were quick in turning Jungkook into a mess of himself. His breathing accelerated, his eyes became hooded, his skin rose in goosebumps, his cock stood tall and proud. His entire body betrayed him as he rapidly fell in love with you.

His mission had failed, but he could not care for such things in this moment. Not when he felt such strong emotions of love towards you.

This was rare. His arrows caused people to fall in love, but never had they produced such a strong effect. Never had he seen a man become so immensely enamored so quickly after a shot of his arrow. Perhaps your beauty had bewitched him before his arrow struck? The details didn't really matter much to him. At least not as much as his sheer need to have you did.

But it could not be done so easily.

Gods were not meant to fall in love with humans. Should his mother ever find out and you would both meet your ruin. No, he needed to think this through. He needed to get to you, but not allow you to know of him. If you were ever to see him, you'd fall in love with him instantly.

He did not want to force such a situation onto you, so despite the sheer effort it took, Jungkook took his leave, opting to plan for an appropriate way to rescue you and make you his.

It took a few days for your misery to come to an end.

After endless hours of agony stranded and alone on the peak of that mountain as you awaited your inevitable demise, you finally came to find some peace.

It was a voice, an unknown one, calling to you. It had been during one of the many instances in which you had found yourself wailing at your misery, completely defeated at your situation.

Suddenly a voice called out to you, reassuring words in their tongue.

"Do not fear, Psyche, nor be sorrowful beyond measure... I have come to aid you, for it is impossible that Love should go unrewarded."

Despite the words, there was no heavenly body attached to them. They had simply come from the wind.

"Who are you?", you asked.

"I am Zephyrus, the West Wind. You may never see me, but I am here to rescue you."

"Rescue me? Where shall you take me?"

"I shall take you to my master's castle. He shall care for you there."

"Your master?", was this meant to be the monster who would wed you?

"Yes. His immeasurable love for you shall be proved as he cares for you."

"Is he ... Is he a monster?"

"On the contrary. He is a heavenly body; the most heavenly of them all," reassured the West Wind.

A heavenly body? Could it really be a God?

You needed no time to consider it. You decided to you must go and meet the man who would save you from your misery.

"Take me, Zephyrus. Please."

"With pleasure."

~

You were unsure how you had arrived here, but that was the last of your concerns upon seeing your surroundings.

Currently, you found yourself in the most beautiful of palaces. Everything was made of expensive marble and tailored just to your tastes. As you explored the gorgeous abode, Zephyrus explained your current situation to you.

"You shall be cared for here, by the most competent of servants," the West Wind began, "They will rid you of all the misery you suffered on that mountain. Every bit of suffering your family brought to you shall be undone within this palace.

"Oh, thank you, Zephyrus! You don't understand how grateful I am."

"You shall not thank me. This is all your beloved's doing."

"When shall I meet him?"

"You will meet him tonight, as you lay to sleep," he began, "However, you shall not see him."

That confused you.

"What do you mean?"

"He wishes not to be seen. He will come to you in your barest of forms to reveal his undying affections, but you shall respect his wishes of not being seen. He will show up in the dark as your back faces him. This is his one and only condition," revealed Zephyrus.

"Oh."

It was disheartening, to say the least. But you owed your eternal gratitude to your future husband, so if he requested not to be seen, you would obey such order.

"I understand. Anything for my savior."

~

The next few hours were spent in luxury you had yet to familiarize yourself with.

You were bathed and fed, healed from all trace of injury during your time stranded. You were treated as a Goddess, served by invisible, voiceless servants as the wind aided you in all your needs.

It proved quite lonely, but you were still content at the knowledge that your beloved would come to you tonight.

They dressed you up as beautiful as you could imagine. Your beauty shone through the care you were given, making you appear entirely irresistible to any man who should come your way.

Oh, you were beyond excited to see your future husband. Would he allow passion to take over him when he saw you?

You had not met him yet, but you were already in love. All things Zephyrus had told you about him only made you more excited.

He detailed his feelings for you, telling you the mountains he'd move just for a single glance at you. He told you of the creation of this palace, rushed to be made to your liking just so he could care for you away from all harm.

Oh, your husband just sounded so lovely. Yet you wanted to cause his ruin upon meeting him.

You laid in bed, your natural beauty shining through the care your invisible servants had given you. Your sleeping gown allowed any to see the perfect contour of your curves as you laid in bed awaiting your beloved's arrival, back facing the window as Zephyrus had instructed.

You were not to face towards the window, allowing the dark atmosphere of the room to hide your beloved's identity. However, according to Zephyrus, your beloved would be able to see you through his magic, allowing him to get his fill of your beauty.

It only took a few hours for a voice to emerge through the window.

"Oh, my beloved," sighed the voice, approaching.

"Husband?", you asked, still lying on your side, facing away from him.

"Yes, it's me. I have not wed you yet, but you are correct. You are my wife from now on, beautiful," his steps got closer, stopping at the edge of the bed opposite your own.

"Oh, husband, how long I've waited for you!", you wailed.

He took a shaky breath, climbing the bed as his hands laid softly on your hip. Your hip had been sticking out due to your sideways position, ready for him to grab at it however he desired.

"My beautiful Psyche ... You cannot understand how badly I want you ..." he breathed, hands hesitant as they caressed the curves presented to him, "I've had to hold back from ravaging you for days. Your touch is the only cure to this madness I feel."

Never in your life had you felt such an immediate fire within you. Oh, how badly you wanted to see him and express the same sentiment.

"You shall touch me however you wish, my dear husband. Please touch me ... I am yours," you pleaded.

"Yes? You are mine? Even if you shall never see me, you wish to be mine?"

You winced at such words, sad at the implications behind never facing your husband. But his voice and touch were enough to render you powerless against him, wanting him more than you thought possible.

You whimpered when his hands went to lift up your gown, revealing your nude bottom as he continued to caress at you.

"Yes! I am yours in every way. Please ... please take me. I need your touch more than anything," you pleaded.

With a groan, he positioned you so he could kneel behind you, placing you on all fours for him. It truly did not matter if you faced him or not, as the room was far too dark for you to ever make out his mere silhouette.

His hands were greedy as he felt you up, throwing off the useless gown so he could have his fill of your body. With endless groans and puffs of breath, he touched every inch, kissing his favorite parts as he explored your body.

"You beautiful thing ... No one shall ever have this body ever again. It is mine forever. Do you understand?"

You sighed in pleasure due to his mere touch, "Yes, husband. My body is for you only."

"I am going to officially wed you as I find my rightful place inside you. This will serve as our wedding night. Okay, gorgeous?"

You nodded wordlessly, pushing up against him to encourage his touch further.

It seemed as if he was already nude, as you felt his hardness behind you when he pushed up against you in retaliation.

Oh, it was so big and warm. He would surely be your ruin.

With a groan, he entered you, making your back arch deliciously at such stretch.

"Oh ... My angel ... My beautiful Psyche. You are everything a man could want, fuck. Feel so perfect around me," the God groaned upon entering you, hands digging into your hips as he began canting his hips against yours.

He caressed you like a man in love, whimpering any time you'd get just a little too tight for him. For the first time in your life, you felt like a true Goddess, experiencing worship from a God himself.

"It's so warm and perfect ...", he sighed, "Made for me, yeah? Just for me ... My Psyche, my ruin, my perfect ruin," he murmured as he pressed kisses against your back, a new confession of love behind each one.

Meanwhile, you were rendered wordless. Nothing made sense when you felt such otherworldly pleasure. Were mere mortals meant to experience such bliss? How could you ever outlive such an experience when your beloved was giving you everything and more than you ever hoped from a husband?

Your whines filled up the room, making your husband speed up out of sheer desire for more. He encouraged your sounds, dipping a hand between your legs to play with you with his skilled fingers, drawing cry after cry out of you as his hips refused to slow down.

"You are so beautiful, fuck ..." he groaned, "Men should worship the ground you walk on. I will worship you ... Every day for the rest of our lives I will worship this beautiful body."

Nothing but love flowed between you. Your new husband's obsession with you was more than clear. The God worshiped your body with low cries of your name, hips becoming less and less coordinated by the minute. His godly stamina was no match for the feelings flowing through his body, rendering him weaker than a human man at the sight of his beloved losing herself under his touch.

Your high triggered his own, making him slump against your back as his hips attempted to hump against you throughout the entirety of his orgasm. He whimpered pathetically at the tightening of your walls, crying expletives far too explicit for a God to recite.

You did not fare any better. From the moment your husband laid his hands on you, you became a shell of your former self, your body now a vessel dedicated to pleasure. You had yet to even ask his name, too immersed in the love between you to even remember.

"My beautiful girl," he whispered as he recovered his breath, kissing along the length your back, "I will protect you for the rest of eternity," his lips went down your back, reaching your ass, "going to take care of you in any and every way," his lips eventually reached your cunt, still swollen and leaking out his own essence. He remained quiet for a few moments, likely hypnotized by the sight.

"Oh ...," he groaned upon a tentative lick against your sensitive cunt, "Need you again ... Need this cunt again," he cried, losing himself between your folds.

Losing his train of thought entirely, he held you up on your hands and knees, feasting on your cunt shamelessly. He kissed and licked at you, groaning any time your ass would push back against him, silently begging for more.

"F-feels so good ... Need y-you. Please ...", you whimpered, begging for nothing in particular. Such pleasure had you lacking any critical thought. You were likely the most mindless creature in all of the land as your husband took away all your ability to reason.

"Gonna get you there, gorgeous. Gonna make you cum and make you mine over and over again," he growled against your cunt.

With just a few more moments, you came undone once more, this time falling against the bed in sheer exhaustion. You wished to turn around and seek solace in your husband, but you knew better and opted to allow him to initiate the next contact.

Once more, he spent a few moments worshiping your limp body, kissing and sucking at every corner he enjoyed. Every so often he would mutter low praises to your person, claiming worship towards you. Unfortunately, this ended far too soon, quickly leaving you cold and alone on the bed as be suddenly got up.

"I apologize if that was too much," he chuckled, now from a small distance. You wanted to turn to confirm, but you did not dare disobey his prior order, "I, uh, I must take my leave now, my love."

That was when you truly wished to break his rule and turn to him, pleading at him to stay with you through the night. One night and you were already infatuated with him.

"You're leaving?"

The disappointment must've been clear in your voice, as he instructed you to close your eyes before he turned you around to face him, caressing your cheeks in a loving manner before landing a soft peck on your lips.

"I cannot stay the night with you, beautiful. If you wake up and find out my identity ... I don't know how I shall protect you from that."

"But-"

"It's okay, angel. I will be back night after night, giving you all the love a God can muster. Now I bid you goodnight, my love. I love you," he kissed the back of your palm, quickly disappearing from your vicinity before you could say goodbye.

When you opened your eyes he was gone, window still open and marking his sudden exit. As deflated as you felt at his departure, you also felt immense excitement for the next morning in which you'd see him, promising yourself to be prepared for him every single night to deliver your love to him.

After weeks of becoming your husband's wife, you continued to live a life of pure bliss every night as he made love to you. It was still incomprehensible to you how he would deliver his sentiments in such a carnal way, but you were yet to have any complaints. The two of you would create the embodiment of love together every night, and you looked forward to it day after day.

But it was only the nighttime that brought you such happiness. You'd spend your days waiting for your husband to arrive, hoping for the moment in which he'd be with you and love you. He'd make conversation with you every night after making love to you, making you feel less lonely in those moments. However, you'd remain completely alone the rest of your days.

It wasn't after many pleas that your husband finally agreed to allow you some company in your new palace. Being accessible only through the flowing of Zephyrus' wind, you were completely alone at all times. It had taken vast begging from your part, but your husband eventually agreed to command Zephyrus to fly your sisters out to you, somehow managing to get into contact with them.

The last time you had seen them had been before finding out about your wretched fate through that Oracle. They remained unaware that you had been left stranded at the mountain, likely entering a panic when the news were delivered to them.

Before allowing your sisters access to his palace, your husband had warned you to stray away from their persuasion. Confused, you asked him to elaborate. He then informed you of the way in which they'd likely envy your newfound fortune and somehow wish to cause a rift between you and your husband. As one last warning, he told you to not listen to them should they tell you to unmask his identity. He loved you far too much to be ripped away from you in such a way, he had said.

You did not believe your sisters capable of attempting to sabotage the immense love you had found in the arms of your husband, but you had unfortunately been wrong.

Upon their arrival, they had showed little concern for your sudden disappearance, simply making quips about how much less their husbands provided for them, claiming they deserved more than yourself. They, of course, did not say such things to your face but rather to each other. But the winds of Zephyrus informed you of it all upon their departure. Even during their stay, they demanded you unmask your husband, claiming he must be a hideous creature if he was so insistent in hiding himself from his beloved wife.

You, unfortunately, fell for their trap. The seed of doubt had been instilled within you, making your curiosity for your husband grow more rapidly than ever. As soon as they left, you began pondering on ways to see your husband in a way that would not reveal your betrayal.

The outcome did not matter in the end. Regardless of your husband's appearance, you would fall for him time and time again just from his mere presence. Should he be the most wretched of monsters and you would still love him. His love and tenderness for you had rendered you a woman in love, and nothing would take that away.

But you needed to know. You needed to see him. You had gone far too long without seeing your soul's other half.

~

It occurred just a few nights later. The fated night in which you would finally see your husband.

By an act of the Gods above, your husband had fallen asleep right after a night of rigorous love making, holding you in his arms with the most love a man could hold for his woman.

In the sheer darkness, you managed to make your way out of your husband's hold, sneaking your way to the other side of the room with difficulty due to the complete lack of illumination in the room. After some struggle in the dark, you found a lamp, which you managed to light up with some oil.

Due to the small size of the lamp, you had to come close to your husband in order to properly see him. With hesitation, you walked over to him, holding the lamp right above his sleeping form to get the perfect view of him.

He was ...

He was the embodiment of love itself.

Before you laid Cupid, the most beautiful of all Gods.

Jungkook, as some knew him, slept under the light of your lamp, beautiful wings nowhere to be seen as he retracted them in his sleep.

You became instantly hypnotized by the sight of your beautiful husband. Your heart sped up and your eyes became heavy. His nude form was nothing short of art, and his gorgeous features were some that could never be replicated by neither man nor God.

If you hadn't already been insanely head over heels over your husband, you would've fallen for Jungkook upon a single sight. It had been the most beautiful God who had been making love to you night after night, praying to you as if you had been the deity.

Unconsciously, you grew too distracted by the sight of your beloved, not realizing you had tilted your lamp enough for some of the scorching oil to slip and trickle onto Jungkook's chest, immediately rendering him awake.

With shock in his eyes, he got up in a frantic hurry, clearly not having realized he had fallen asleep next time you. His hands went straight to soothing the burnt skin right by his chest. It didn't take long for betrayal to appear in his eyes, realizing that you had deliberately sought out a way in which to see him while he was fully unaware of your intentions.

"Psyche ...", he muttered, eyebrows furrowed as he avoided your eyes in disdain. You caught sight of tears growing in his eyes, causing pain to gnaw at your chest.

"Jungkook, I-"

He chuckled bitterly at the situation, "I warned you against this time and time again, but you became poisoned by the words of mere mortals who do not hold the love for you I so highly esteem," he took a breath, "I foolishly wounded myself with my own arrow and took the role of your lover. I feared that you'd want to cut off the head that carries these eyes that love you, so I remained a mystery to you. Yet your own love for me did not respect me enough to halt this betrayal. I- I shall take my leave. Goodbye, Y/N," he said before retracting his wings and making his way out through the window once more, hands rubbing at the growing wound on his chest due to the oil that had burnt him.

You stood there wordless, tears in your eyes as you watched your husband fly away.

Your cursed endlessly throughout the rest of your sleepless night, hoping that maybe he would come back tomorrow so you could make amends.

Tomorrow never came, and neither did the next day. From your perspective, time stood still as Jungkook continued not to show up day after day for a week. On the seventh day, your heart grew too sore to continue waiting for him without taking action.

Although you blamed your own greed for him for your betrayal to him, you also blamed the instigators – your sisters.

But they were your sisters no more. They were simply obstacles to overcome in the journey to gain Jungkook's trust back. And nothing would stop you.

A new sense of vengeance took over you astonishingly fast. Without a second thought, you managed to contact each of your sisters individually, making claims of your husband, Cupid himself, becoming unforgiving of your betrayal and demanding your departure, announcing that he would wed your sister instead. Each of your greedy sisters fell for the lie and one by one fell to their death as they attempted to make their way to Cupid's castle.

As for you, you managed to convince the West Wind to fly you off the mountains so you could begin your journey to your beloved. Hurt and disheartened, you spent weeks in search of him, not mindful at all of how battered you became with the passing of time. Any pain would be worth Jungkook's forgiveness.

However, your state of mind and exhaustion led you to multiple attempts at ending your own life, attempting to drown yourself or jump off cliffs, always surviving almost unscathed by some cruel act of the Gods. Without Jungkook's forgiveness life was simply not worth living.

In the meantime, Jungkook found himself in his mother's chambers, healing from the wound you had caused as his mother let out her fury at the discovery of her son's new lover.

"So you decided to wed your mother's nemesis? You decided that you shall bring this wench upon me and tie her to me for eternity?", she seethed as Jungkook disregarded her, too exhausted to respond.

"I shall find that hideous wench and rid the world of her myself," she decided, calling over a few servants to direct them to deliver you to them, "And you," she turned to Cupid once more, "You useless child. I shall birth another one just to spite you for your disrespect."

Those were her last words as she exit the chambers, leaving Jungkook to his rest once more. He wanted to worry for you, but his wound of the heart needed more healing before he could allow himself to go find you for himself. Within him, he thought of you fondly, hoping you'd survive his mother's wrath.

~

It did not take long for Venus to find you and bring you to your knees before her, expressing every foul thought she had of you with no shame.

"You believe to be worthy of Cupid, the prettiest God to lay foot on this world? Fine. Should you complete my tasks and I shall stay out of your way. Should you fail, I will do with you as I please."

Having spent weeks alone in the wilderness, injured in every way imaginable, you could not see a better outcome to such a situation. You agreed without thinking twice, knowing that no fate was worse than your current one.

You were assigned impossible tasks, one by one, as Venus sat back and awaited for your inevitable demise.

Much to her surprise, the divine forces had helped you in the completion of each one.

The first task had been to sort an immense amount of grains before morning. The grains amounted to an innumerable quantity, which proved the task to be impossible. Upon your defeat, you fell asleep halfway through the task, somehow waking up to find ants assisting you in its completion. By the time Venus arrived, she had a frown on her face at the sight of the achievement.

Her anger did not last, as she assigned you the next impossible task with ease.

Upon being ordered to gather golden fleece from magic sheep, you knew that this time you'd truly meet your demise. The sheep were extremely aggressive and known to kill a man in mere seconds. However, by another act of the Gods above, the reeds by the riverbank suddenly advised you to await til morning in order to freely gather the fleece that the sheep had shed.

The completion of this task also brought anger to Venus' demeanor, causing her to provide you with yet another impossible task. The completion of the final task finally led to the hardest of them all; one that would finally render you no longer.

Your final task had been to travel to the underworld and bring Venus a box of beauty. There were far too many intricate steps to be followed, but your love for Jungkook was enough to lead your journey.

Finally, upon your arrival, you held the box of beauty in your hands, ready to deliver it to Venus and finally receive her blessing in wedding her son. But once more, your curiosity grew too big.

Before arriving to the mighty Goddess, your hands took a mind of their own, forcing you to take a peak at the box. If you were to officially wed your beloved Cupid, a little extra beauty would surely be helpful.

Your naïveté finally led you to your final moments, causing you to enter eternal sleep upon a small peek of the box's contents. Still slightly conscious, you laid in your lonesome, unable to move nor think.

In your final moments, all you could think of was your beautiful Cupid and how badly you had hoped to live for him. To live to love him once more.

It took Jungkook a few days after his mother's final warning to him to fully recover from his injury.

Being aware of his mother's anger towards you, his immediate thought upon gaining his energy back was to seek you out and rescue you from whatever threat his mother must've been holding over you. He was unsure if she had managed to find you, but he could not take the risk of waiting to find out, knowing your life was likely in danger.

It took interrogating a few servants in order to track you down, now making it his mission to save you from his mother's disdain.

When he had been informed of the endless grueling tasks you had taken on just for a chance to see him again, Jungkook's heart melted. His love for you had never gone away, but his hurt had blinded him as his wound debilitated him. Now fully recovered, he was able to realize that his endless adoration for you was mutual. Your stubborn desire to see him had not been born out of malice, but out of love for him. He understood now. Had he been denied of your beauty for a single day, he would've lost all sense of sanity.

You were currently on your final task, Jungkook had been informed. Worried about your safety, he set out to take the same journey, traveling to retrieve the box himself in case you had somehow not made it on your own. He grew impressed when he reached the end of the journey and found that you had already retrieved it and were currently on your way back.

Jungkook continued to travel in search of you, growing more worried by the second as he did not find you. The moment he finally encountered you, his wings gave out in him, causing him to fall due to the sudden worry the sight caused him.

You were lying on the ground, vulnerable and alone as you held the box against your chest. You must've opened it, he assumed, knowing your curiosity could easily get the best of you.

Running to you, he held you to his arms, throwing the box aside as he caressed your limp body in his arms.

"Oh, Psyche ... My beautiful, curious girl," he tsk'd, "Your curiosity became your undoing once more," he scolded lightheartedly, tears in his eyes at being able to hold you again.

Leaning down, he pressed a lone kiss to your lips, whispering against them as he did so, "Come back to me, my love. Let me make you mine again."

Within seconds your body regained its consciousness, leaving you disoriented for a few moments. Upon realizing Jungkook was holding you, a look of awe in his eyes, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him as close as humanly possible to you as you cried into his chest.

"Oh, my beautiful girl," he wrapped himself around you, retracting his wings so they'd shield you both from the outside world, "Don't cry for me, my love. I'm here. I adore you more than I can possibly describe."

You wailed apologies into his chest, weaved with many confessions of your love for him. He took them all in with a smile on his face, refusing to let go of you as he memorized the shape of your body against his own.

"Love you so much, my sweet ruin. No one can ever harm you again," he assured, leaving endless kissed against your hair. He finally pulled away, wiping your tears with his thumbs as he looked into your eyes, "Let me take you home, my love."

~

"My beautiful girl ... How I missed you, fuck," groaned the pretty angel as he laid kisses down your neck.

He pushed you up against the wall the moment he flew you back to his recluse palace, rendering you speechless with just a few kisses. Jungkook wasted no time in showing you his love through words and touches, finally able to face you while he loved on you.

Sighing as he kissed down your neck, you molded yourself to his liking, willing to let him do whatever he wanted to you. You were far too enamored by the God, feeling nothing but inhuman addiction to his touch.

"I adore you more than you could ever understand," he breathed out as his hand ripped apart your worn out gown, wanting to finally see you bare face to face. With a shuddering breath, he got his fill of your body, caressing at every inch his eyes went over, feeling the carnal need to memorize every curve.

Turning you around, he pressed you up to his front, grinding against you as he felt you up, groaning breathily into your ear.

"I have wanted your body since I first laid eyes on you," he whispered, hips slow and sensual in their grinding, "I can finally have you however I want. Oh, my angel, I'm going to render you useless by the time I'm done with you."

Your Cupid then grabbed you and led you to the bed, where you positioned yourself on your hands as knees as you usually did. Shaking his head, Jungkook stops you before you settle on the bed, instructing you to turn around and lay face up for him.

"No, beautiful. Turn to me. Want to see you. Want to make love to you while you look at me with those pretty eyes," Jungkook moaned against your lips.

There was not much warning before Jungkook slipped inside you. But it did not matter. Your body welcomed him with no struggle, having become far too thirsty for his touch in the weeks of your separation.

Out of all the times you'd made love, this was by far the most intimate. Jungkook love and caressed you with an inhuman infatuation in his eye, groaning any time you'd so much as look into his eyes as he pounded into you.

"Oh, my Psyche ... Love you so much ... Always loved you. Always needed y-you, oh fuck ..." his eyes closed in pleasure, pressing his face into your neck to breathe you in. His hips were incorrigible, with Jungkook being far too drunk with lust to have any finesse in his movements.

"My Jungkook ... My Cupid ... You pretty angel, I missed you so much, so- oh, so much!", you cried, your eyes becoming clouded with tears all while your nails dug into his back. You could feel the scars from which his wings would retract, caressing them softly.

"Oh ... Oh, angel, d-don't do that- My wings are too sensitive, my Psyche, d-don't ..."

This only encouraged you to do it more, caressing his erogenous zone softly and sensually, causing him to cry against your ear, whimpering in an ungodly way that had your eyes rolling back at just the sound.

Your pretty angel babbled against you, letting out nonsensical rambles about how much he loved you and how he could never let you go again. How he would breed you and give you an heir and bring you both to the land of the Gods with him.

Practically sobbing against each other, still grinding like mindless animals, the two of you found your highs together, continuing to stimulate each other throughout the entirety of your orgasms. Your mutual whimpers filled up the room, making the experience all the more erotic.

Finally, you two laid against each other, breathing heavily as you refused to let go of one another.

You were still beat and battered from your weeks in search of your Cupid, but that was the last thing on your mind. All you cared about was holding onto Jungkook and never letting go.

Holding you even closer against him, Jungkook wrapped himself around you, pulling out with a groan as he spooned you in his arms, breathing in your hair and humming against you. He reassured you about any worry you may have had in regards to your future together, assuring you that your injury to him had fully head and that he could never hold any type of negative feeling towards you for long.

You no longer would have to worry about his mother's schemes, Jungkook assured, as he would go to Zeus himself to grant you immunity amongst all Gods. He'd convert you into a Goddess yourself, he promised, so that he could give you a heavenly heir and grow old with you until eternity. Nothing in this world could ever separate Cupid from his beloved Psyche. Jungkook would never let anything keep him away from his one and only beloved.

"I adore you, my Psyche, my beautiful ruin. I will always protect you," he sighed one last time, eyes growing heavy as you turned around in his arms and cuddled against his warm chest.

"I love you my Cupid," you kissed at the small burn mark the oil of your lamp had left, humming against his chest.

You fell asleep calmly in each other's arms, knowing you'd wake up to an eternity of love between one another.

a/n: im sorry if the pacing seems all over the place but i promise this is how the original story goes 😭

to read short 3.3k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my jk monthly tier on kofi or patreon!

content: afab reader, continuation and conclusion of the cupid and psyche lore/story (this is kinda like a pt. 2 honestly oops), impregnation, mentions of oral, jungkook is obsessed with reader its insane, pregnancy sex implied (but not really bc its after one day of the insemination lol), jungkook is a god so yk endless sex, smut, penetrative sex (like three times lol), etc.

wc: 639 (teaser); 3313 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Hmm, my beautiful Psyche," hummed Jungkook against you, stretching his body before cuddling further into you, absolute bliss in his voice.

After a night of extraneous love-making, Jungkook finally awoke in your arms, a smile instantly making its way onto his face at the remembrance of the previous night.

After having brought you back to the palace he built for you, he made love to you, finally able to look into your eyes as you both lost yourselves to the pleasure found in each other's touch. The thought of your gorgeous whines for him still made him shudder, having to will his boner away at the memory.

Then he thought about everything else that had happened since your separation.

He recalled all the trials you had gone through this past week, all to gain access to his heart, a heart that had belonged to you from the moment he laid eyes on you. It was hard not to feel immense guilt at knowing how badly you had struggled from the moment he left you alone in that palace, too hurt and stubborn to realize that your love for him would have you risking your life just for one more chance. In hindsight, he should've understood, specially considering that his own heart burned for you harshly enough for him to want to give up his Godly powers for you if he so had to.

Then he remembered the worst part of it all.

His mother was still seething with vengeance for you, not having found satisfaction in your death while completing her useless tasks. Jungkook knew that she never meant to even consider giving her blessing for the two of you to be together. It had all been a ruse to make you find your demise under the false pretense that you would somehow earn Jungkook's forgiveness by the end of it all.

What you didn't know was that Jungkook didn't need to forgive you. His love for you overpowered every other fleeting thought in his brain. One look from your remorseful eyes and he would be on his knees, begging you for forgiveness.

He pondered as he watched you sleep in his arms, blissful yet still wounded by your weeks of pain.

How shall he make up for all the suffering you endured while he recovered from his wound? How could he make amends for making you think for even one second that he'd dare try and live without you by his side?

His experience as a carnal lover had not prepared him for such feelings. There had been no training or preparation for him to understand the way you made his heart rush, the way you altered every aspect of his being.

All he could think about was how you were his beautiful Psyche and how ... how badly he wanted to put an heir in you.

The thought had seemed been sudden, but he had actually thought of it from the moment he found you waiting for him in bed that first night. You, full for him, manifesting the greatest form of love as you grew his seed inside you.

An heir would be the solution to all problems.

An heir would bring you an instant pass to the land of the Gods, forcing Zeus to turn you into a Goddess in order for you to birth a Godly child. It would also make his mother accept the gift he'd bring upon her, unable to deny a child created by the God of love himself. Lastly, this heir would also be his own gift to you – a showcase of his endless love for you and the future he was to create with you.

But most of all, it would quench the thirst Jungkook was currently feeling at the mere thought of marking you as his as humanly possible.

...

find the 18+ continuation on kofi or patreon!

if you have trouble finding it on there, just let me know!!<3

[cupidkenji]

killshot, baby

Pairing: Aaron Hotch x Doctor!Fem!reader Cw: Fluff (for real this time), LONGING (this is literally 9k words of pure yearning idek how I did that), mentions of blood, Hotch gets shot, Jack being adorable, Jack gets injured too :(, no explicit age gap, this is just rlly cute idk it's sweet I love Hotch so much I need him Summary: When you get hired as the BAU's stand-by medic, the team leader ends up being the hardest part of your job. Disclaimer: Reader is chubby! She's always fat coded, but like usual she's not described here. Just know a chubby person was imagined when writing this <3 WC: 9k (Hotch is the love of my life I could go on about him forever) This is definitely not medically accurate, please just enjoy for the sake of the story. I LOVE HOTCH I WANNA SMOOCH HIM

As weird as it was, band aids were the thing you remembered most from your childhood. You grew up as a canvas for any sort of scrape, cut, or bruise. Any wound that made your parents feel mildly worried to utterly terrified were ones that decorated your body frequently. You never tried to assign any meaning to why you became a doctor, simply crediting it as your call to the profession - to people. If you had to, though, your consistently bruised adolescent body is the best root cause you could think of. It seemed only right that the kid who couldn’t keep her skin in tact would grow to love helping others. You liked to think that’s how you kept your head an average size. Your bosses and co-workers had raved about your abilities no matter the job you took, and after a while you had to start prioritizing keeping your humility. You had started as just a kid with bruises. 

You tended to ground yourself with those same memories in times like this. For as long as you’d worked in the hospital, you held some disdain for agents. You saw many federal ones, being so close to the HQ for divisions like Behavioral Analysis, but some locals swung by too. You’d had far too many experiences of them being snappy, demanding, and usually inconsiderate to the team of people trying to save someone. You understood the individuals you were committed to helping often got there by doing monstrous things, but demanding to talk to someone when they were bleeding out and half-conscious always forced your tongue between your teeth in an effort to stay respectful. Especially now, pushing a stretcher with 3 other workers while trying to shake off the feds trailing after him. You recognized them, Agents Rossi and Hotchner, if you remembered correctly. 

“We’ll need to talk to him immediately.” The man - Rossi, you assumed, seeing as he was going gray and had less of a charge fueling his steps - spoke quickly as the two men followed your team.

“Be here when he’s out of surgery.” You didn’t bother to look back, trying to convey your annoyance and praying they got the hint. 

“He’s killed three women and has another one hostage. We don’t have time.” The other one piped up, easily keeping pace with you.

Abandoning your previous strategy, you let your team push the man into the operating room, shutting the door behind them and whipping around to face the duo. “I understand that, sir, believe me.” You were more elevated than you would have liked, years of unease unfortunately slipping through your efforts to withhold them. “But whatever happened when you found him left him barely breathing. You can’t speak to a corpse. You’ll have your time when he’s stable. Go do your job and let me do mine.” You tensed your calves planning to turn around, but quickly felt the guilt catch up to you. “I’ll call you if he wakes up.”

“If?” 

You sighed. You hated profilers. “I’ll call you.” 

“Call the headquarters.” He was scribbling down a number on the back of a hospital business card. “Ask for Agent Hotch. We’ll be waiting.” You nodded your head once, taking the card from his hands. He started walking away as he thanked you. “We appreciate it.” Sure.

–

The surgery to save the man had been a trip and half. One of the bullets had internally ricocheted, and the other two were lodged next to crucial arteries. You praised your mother for giving you steady hands as you inched them out of him. It took you and your team six hours and fifteen minutes to get his heartbeat steady, you estimated he’d be knocked out all night. You should call, you thought. You had no idea how late these people worked but they were more than likely expecting to talk tonight and you didn’t know if that’d be possible. You fished the card out of your pocket, his handwriting was impressively neat for how fast he’d written the number. You heard the line ring twice before someone picked up. 

“This is Penelope Garcia with the Behavioral Analysis Unit, who am I speaking to?”

“Uh- I’m Dr. L/n down at Quantico Med. I’m looking for Agent Hotch?” Your words tilted up at the end of your sentence. The casual nature of his shortened name left a weird feeling in your mouth after you said it. “I have an update on a patient he was asking after.”

“Is this about an unsub?” 

“A what?” She lacked professionalism. You wondered briefly if he had just given you the phone number of an employee.

“I’m sorry-” she laughed slightly. “Is this about a suspect? Hotch told me someone might be calling.”

“Um - yeah it’s about a suspect. He was brought in earlier. Is Agent Hotch there? I’m sorry ma’am but I've been in an operating room for the past 6 hours and I want to go home.” You hoped she’d respect your honesty, you really didn’t have the patience to explain yourself to someone new. 

She chuckled. “I got you honey, I’ll page you over.” The line went dead for a second before the ringing resumed. Please be quick, you prayed, get me out of this fucking hospital.

“Hotchner.” His voice was rougher over the phone. You guessed the long hours started to weigh on him by this time of night. You always felt it the most around this time, too.

“Hi, sir. This is Dr. L/n from the hospital. We managed to stabilize your guy, but it’s unlikely he’ll be up before tomorrow. I know it was assumed he’d be awake tonight but it took longer to operate than expected.” Your guys put 3 bullets in him, so sorry for the inconvenience. “I’ll be here all day tomorrow. You can come by at any time and I’ll let you in.”

“Are you positive we can’t talk to him tonight? I understand the situation is difficult but this case is extremely time sensitive. I’m sure that’s not lost on you.” You cursed the man for not being more condescending in his delivery. Thinking of the poor person either trapped or dead right now due to the guy you just saved made you sick. 

“I know.” Fucking hell. “I can wake him up.” A quarter dose of adrenaline works wonders. “Be here in fifteen minutes. You won’t have much time to talk to him.”

“Thank you.” He hung up. You put your head in your hands. Just a little kid with bruises.

– 

The layout of the BAU made you envious of the workers here. You’re sure they’d dealt with atrocities beyond what the average person could stomach, but you also worked within the belly of the beast and man were those hospital hallways claustrophobic. The daylight shone beautifully through the large windows, and you asked yourself if you’d be able to cope with all the paperwork in exchange for a feel like this. There weren’t any front desks, nowhere to sign in, so you sat in one of the chairs by the door and waited to see if something would happen. You had been specifically requested to visit the building , a note signed ‘Strauss’ being left with the hospital secretary. You didn’t like being called on by a stranger, it made you nervous beyond belief. You’re sure anyone walking by assumed you were being charged with something. Sweating like a sinner in church.

“Dr. L/n?” A woman was standing near you, having completely avoided your eyesight until now. “I’m the board supervisor, Erin Strauss. Thank you for coming.” The woman was nice enough, but she seemed rigid, clearly confident in her authority. She led you to her office and gestured to the chair facing her desk.

“I’ll cut right to the chase.” She smoothed her pencil skirt as she sat down. “The BAU is seeking a stand-by medic and I’d like to offer you the position. You’re revered highly by your previous places of employment and your current boss has only good things to say. Along with a personal reference by an employee of mine, you’re certainly a person of interest. You’d be working interchangeably with three other individuals, however you would be the first one called when needed.”

That is definitely not what you were expecting. You were almost immediately ready to turn down the offer. You didn’t work well with cops. You worked well in a hospital, going into the field to patch the wounds of both good and evil was a less than appealing deal to you. 

“You’d be on call while you worked your current position at Quantico Medical, when you’re at home you can remain there, but you’ll be flying with the rest of the team when they leave. You will be entered into a federal database, and employed as a stand-in for hospitals near you when working abroad.” She went on to explain you’d be paid salary, and when you heard just how much you could add to your monthly income by doing this, you took it. You were doing fine, you definitely didn’t need the financial boost, but you had family that could use it. Your niece had been close to turning down college because of the cost, so some extra money could really set her up. 

“Excellent. You’ll start your field training next Monday.” She was shuffling papers into a hefty stack as she talked. “Come back when you’ve finished this and I’ll arrange a team meeting.” The stack was even heavier than you expected when you picked it up. It was far too early to be regretting your decision. 

–

The first day of training had been easy enough. You weren’t an agent, so you avoided having to learn weapons or combat. It generally consisted of learning efficiency, along with how to work properly with agents and the expected etiquette when dealing with an unsub. You had met the team only once by now. Everyone had been nice - Garcia especially - but aside from her nobody had been particularly welcoming. The conditions of your job were a bit strange, basically capitalizing on the what ifs that came with the FBI title, and that created a bit of distance between you and the rest of the team. They questioned the necessity of you, they’d survived this long without a stand-by medic with them, why did they need one now?

Above any disregard for those in law enforcement sat your stubbornness. You knew they were on the fence about you, the most logical thing for you to do now would be attend every session required of you and prove yourself through pure accomplishment. Easy in theory, much harder to execute when Aaron Hotch is the one you’re learning from. He was a good teacher - you’d give him that - he had a confidence to him that easily dominated a room, attracted eyes in a way other men couldn’t manage. You’d ignored the initial stir in your stomach when meeting him in favor of attempting to scold him and his partner. Now, it was much harder to quell the slight pound in your head or the sweat on your palms. He was just standing up front, lecturing on the importance of a team, but his attire was the only thing able to break through the haze in your mind. Every time he’d shown up at the hospital, he’d donned a suit, a slightly baggy blazer worked incredibly well as a shield to your curiosity. That had clearly changed, as he shed the overcoat when talking to the class, having just a white button up adorn his torso. You took notice of the rolled up sleeves, clearing your throat quietly to snap yourself back into focus. You had the intention of snuffing out this little thing of yours but were a living contradiction at this point, setting on the goal of avoidance while barely ignoring the sight of the veins on his arms. You pondered the thought of sleeping with some man at a bar just to get this out of your system, but remembered how little projecting attraction onto someone else helps a situation. In other words, you were probably fucked.

– 

The first mission you worked with the team had you flying to a tiny Georgia town to investigate a string of bodies being found in ransacked homes. It seemed to be a simple motive, robbery turned to murder, but the team was called down to help once the kill count hit five. You had been expecting a long commercial flight, figuring you’d need to invest in a good neck pillow and some aspirin. Nobody had bothered to inform you the Bureau utilized private air travel, or that you’d be flying in one with people you’d known for two weeks. You’re sure you looked a little out of place, looking around the plane without being obvious you were doing it and adjusting to the sight of couches on planes. The others, having had this privilege for years now, took their respective seats. You had been nervous about that, unfortunately. The unsure feeling of where to sit reminding you painfully of high school cafeterias and inferior reputations. The only open seat happened to be right next to the man you’d been ducking away from the past two weeks. Lovely. He took a moment to look at you when you sat. You were prepared to talk to him, but for now you busied yourself with rummaging through your bag looking for nothing and pretending not to see him in your peripherals.

“Do you get sick on planes?” He seemed to have a deeper motive when he asked, like you saying yes would solve a puzzle in his head.

“Not really.” You’d only been on a plane a handful of times. “Turbulence can make me nervous, but I think that’s fairly normal.” You thought momentarily that perhaps he would blame your obvious anxiety on that instead of his proximity to you. He was a profiler, you’re sure he picked up on tells for nerves you weren’t even aware you had, but maybe he’d write it off. “Why do you ask?”

“You seem…” He trailed off for a moment, looking over your face to try and categorize your expression. “I don’t know, lost?” He smiled, light and easy, and you realized he was trying to reach out to you. The comfortability in the gesture made your head spin. It was like a shot of morphine, enveloping your body in a dull elation - an escape. You wanted that comfortability, wanted him to feel weightless around you. There had been a certain tension between the two of you since you started. He was warmer than the rest, but also more awkward. Your first real interaction had been an outburst, and it left you hesitant to talk to him. 

You chuckled at his remark. “No I -” You shook your head as you spoke, as if shaking off his accusation. “Nobody told me about the jet. You’d think exclusive aircraft would be in the job predecessor.”

He nodded in agreement, holding a slight upturn on his lips. “Yes, you would.” He glances away to check the time, looking back to you quickly like you were his homebase. “Strauss has a habit of getting ahead of herself. Plus, we’re all pretty used to it by now. I have to remind her sometimes that normal provisions don’t have a TI.”

“I’m sure.” It was clear she’d worked with the unit for a while. “Even if they did, though, they’d never find another Garcia.” You thought of the woman, bright and sparkly and incredibly good at her job. “You guys are lucky to have her.”

He stared at you, losing a hint of the lightheartedness and letting a wave of genuinity intertwine with it. “You have her too, Y/n.” His eyes were like a trap, rich pools of honey just begging to tug you down in. “You’re a member of this team. Don’t think your newness makes you inferior to anyone else on it. We’re lucky to have you too.”

Fuck, you were whipped. “I really appreciate that, sir.”

He smiled, shaking his head and waving you off. “Don’t with the sir, please. It’s bad enough when Garcia does it. You can call me Aaron.” Not even the other team members called him that, a thought that seemed to strike you both simultaneously. “Or Hotch, whatever you prefer.”

You just looked at him, letting a smile rouse your lips and trying your hardest not to let the effect he had on you reach your face. “Ok.”

–

The first case had been good training wheels, simply tending to a vic who needed stitches and getting a feel for the life of a field agent. You’d been adjusting nicely to it, quickly getting used to working random hospitals and waiting to be needed on an active crime scene. The others had warmed up to you tremendously after getting back, opening their circle for one more, and you couldn’t be more grateful. A team like this was something you’d wanted for a while, growing more and more unsatisfied with the callous ER workspace by the day. Ironically, there was much more life in jobs dealing with murder. He had also been warming up to you. The two of you hit the status of work-place friends nearly instantly. The endearing encounter on the plane simmered inside you for a while. The memory of it prompting you to keep talking to him, always searching for a fix of the painkiller you’d felt that day. 

You weren’t a profiler, but you were unfathomably infatuated, leading you to never miss his tone getting softer with you, or any one of his touches that lingered for just a second too long. It just barely bypassed the line of friendship, but you never lost sight of that linear barrier, so it was incredibly prevalent to you when he breached it. You scoffed at the idea of any reciprocity, brushing off every remark made by a coworker or the one horrific time you heard JJ refer to the two of you as ‘mom and dad.’ This wasn’t a plausible thing. This was a stupid workplace crush that was more of a hindrance than anything. The growing closeness between you and him would have it’s effects properly restrained to the confines of your head, only permitted to express themselves once you were away from the man. It was an odd dynamic, but Aaron wasn’t an obvious guy, so trying to define the edges of you two would only draw attention to the fact you had been looking at all. No thank you.

“Shit.” The team was sitting around the table going over their files. You were mainly there for support, as you were never a part of the lead up to the catch, the chase. You heard Hotch mumble the exclamation under his breath and looked over to see the trouble. He was looking down at his phone, jaw resting between his thumb and pointer finger. You got up and moved to sit next to him, the motion virtually ignored by everyone else as they continued searching for connections.

“Everything ok?” You mumbled to him, trying not to disturb your friends who were nearly nose-deep in their files. 

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Jack’s sitter canceled. I wanted to stay here to go over the latest crime scene but I guess I’ll have to raincheck.” The killings of your latest unsub had been increasing. You knew the collective stress that was starting to boil within the team. Him going home would only slow them down, a horrible addition to a killer that was speeding up. 

You volunteered your night away before you even got a chance to think about it. 

“I can watch him.” 

Surprise was apparent in the raise of his eyebrows. “I appreciate it, but I couldn’t ask that of you.

You’re fairly certain you would do anything he asked of you, but the nobility of the man in this case almost made you roll your eyes. “No, please. I offered and I would love to. I’m not helping anyone just sitting here, and you leaving would slow them down. You know what to look for here, I don’t. I don’t want another girl going missing just cause your sitter flaked. I can do it.”

He seemed mildly speechless. “I -” He paused, trying to find the wording he wanted. “I suppose you’re right. I’ll send you the address, if you’re sure.” He looked at you with more adoration than you’d ever had directed at you, so intense your eyes instinctively ducked down. “Thank you, Y/n.” He was so touched by the action it made you slightly sad to think about. Had no one ever helped him? Maybe you were raised weird, this seemed hardly beyond common decency to you. 

“What are friends for?” He exhaled a slight laugh in gratuitous agreement, but you saw the glimmer of his eyes dull slightly. The notion surely reflected in your own eyes as the words burned your tongue. Friends.

–

Jack was a delight. A well mannered, clearly well raised kid. Parts of his dad shined so vibrantly in him that you’re sure you’d be able to pick him out of a crowd based on mannerisms alone. Hotch had called Jack’s daycare, verifying your identity and giving you the ok to go pick him up. He seemed quiet on the way home, but rushed to give you a tour of the house, and excitedly led you to his line up of toy trains once you’d entered the place. There was a shift between you and Hotch that happened when you gave the offer. A shift that was now only just settling in you. This was his house. His space, his stuff, his place of security. He’d invited you into it, gave you permission to enter it, to exist within it, and it was strangely intoxicating. He was intoxicating, and you realized quickly how much you ached for the permanence of it. You’d made Jack dinner, played for a bit, went out for ice cream per his pleading, and wished him a peaceful goodnight when his bedtime rolled around. He’d dubbed you his ‘best babysitter ever’ and you knew as soon as the words hit your ears that you’d be watching him again. You’re sure situations like today popped up frequently for Hotch, you could be a valuable asset to him when you had free time. He would be saving money too. No need to pay a sitter when you were being paid by the Bureau every second you were there. Aaron had gotten home a few minutes past one, utterly exhausted and uncharacteristically apologetic. He was sorry for being gone so long, making you stay so late, everything and anything the man could apologize for was pouring out of his mouth. He’d welcomed you to stay, but his hair was messy from messing with it all night, and he’d ditched the suit jacket for a gray long sleeve. You’d wanted to take the opportunity, wanted to bask in the safety of him for as long as he’d allow it, but those restrained thoughts were clawing the walls of your skull with a vigor unlike anything you’d felt before. It would be abhorrent to dream about the man while in the confines of his home. You couldn’t do that - you wouldn’t. You brushed off any apology he could conjure and let him escort you out the door. His hand was on your lower back, and his voice was low from the siphoning nature of the day. 

“Thank you, again.” He looked at you. “You’re a lifesaver.” You’d expected to hear some humor in his voice. The start of banter between friends, a casual appreciation for a job well done, but there wasn’t any. He sounded rough, slightly beat down, his eyes filled with a sincerity all aimed at you. A blend of pure adoration and a deeper level of dedication. Was this a commitment? What kind?

Heat bubbled in your stomach as you made eye contact. “Please.” You shook your head slightly. “Jack’s an angel. You’re clearly as good at this as you are profiling.” You nodded in the vague direction of Jack’s bedroom as you referenced the kid. “It was my pleasure. I’d love to do it again, if you’ll let me.” 

He sighed out a small laugh and broke your gaze for a moment, looking back to you as he spoke. “I’d like that.”

–

You’d seen Jack a multitude of times after that. Aaron was never particularly fond of asking you, claiming that he appreciated the gesture but it was mainly Jack’s begging that made him cave. That, and your persistence. You liked Jack a lot, and more selfishly, you liked being around Aaron’s stuff. It was a little creepy, yes, but you felt better acquainted with him after being around his things. An energetic type of understanding, the type that deepened a connection without words. He was needed late tonight, and as much as you hated denying an offer to see Jack, you had priorities at the hospital. The previous sitter wasn’t able to watch him, so she gave a personal recommendation, and Jack got stuck with a stranger. You thought about him while working, probing and patching people half-focused with the desire to be elsewhere. You’d felt mildly guilty about it, but it’s not like it altered your work, so you figured it was harmless. 

You wondered slightly if you manifested the event you were watching play out. You watched in pure disbelief as a sobbing Jack was being carried into the ER by a flustered blonde woman. There was blood staining the right sleeve of his shirt, pouring out of his skin in a surplus and completely soaking through the material. A jagged piece of glass was standing at attention in his wrist, having sliced through the fabric like butter. He was marked ‘urgent,’ who knows if the shard had hit an artery or where the glass had come from. 

Most other doctors were busy, either operating or tending to patients. You’d walked to the front desk, remaining as calm as your racing heart would let you, and told the secretary to assign the case to you. “I know this one. Let me take him.” She just nodded, marking your name down as the primary doctor and allowing you to take him back. 

Walking up to the blonde woman, you assumed this had been the new babysitter. She was a wreck, trying to explain what happened through her own hysteria while simultaneously having her words drowned out by the crying child. “It’s ok, ma’am.” You’d reassured her, obviously she hadn’t intended the injury. “Let me take him, I’m a friend of his father.” You saw the calmness dilate her eyes, making itself apparent in the relaxation of her tense shoulders. You removed the bleeding boy from her arms, holding him against you and cooing at him the way you would a baby. You took him to a stretcher a few feet away and laid him down, ensuring his wounded arm stayed flat in an attempt to slow the blood. He was on the brink of passing out, his body not having nearly enough energy for the sobbing on top of losing vital fluid. “Jack.” You addressed him directly, two more doctors aiding your transfer to an examination room. “I need you to stay with me, buddy. Just a little longer, I promise. You’re gonna be just fine.” You pushed with one hand, caressing his non-injured arm to emphasize your affection. “Just a little longer.” You looked at him in between looking forward to keep the stretcher straight, seeing that same adoration from his father’s eyes mirrored in his. You felt protective, realizing you cared for the Hotchners much more than you let yourself believe. Little kid with bruises, you skimmed through your origins in your mind in an attempt to center your focus. Just a little kid with bruises.

Two hours later, Jack was stitched up and sleeping soundly. You knew his sitter had called Hotch, probably as soon as something happened, and were not surprised to find him idle in a waiting room chair. He was leaned forward, head in his hands and knee bouncing violently. He heard footsteps getting closer, a feeling within him recognizing them as yours, and he looked up. His eyes were teary, tired. The look of a concerned father.

“How is he?” You’d never witnessed this type of worry in him, heard the amount of desperation in his voice.

You smiled lightly as a predecessor to Jack’s wellbeing. “He’s fine. Glass missed his arteries. We had him patched up in around an hour and a half. Gave him a lollipop and a light sedative to get him to rest. He should be all set to go in the morning.” 

He sighed, and the amount of stress that audibly left his body made you feel a little lighter from where you stood. “Thank God.”

“Hey man, give us a little credit.” You joked, relieved when you heard the slight laugh come from his downturned head. Pity laugh, probably, but it was a cherished sound nonetheless. 

“You have full credit, Y/n.” He shook his head, raising it to look at you. “Quite the hero.”

You almost physically recoiled from the term, rushing to correct him while maintaining the lighthearted nature. “Definitely not.” You rejected the praise. “Just doing my job. I’m glad I could help him.”

He leaned back in his chair, relaxing for a second before he planned to stand up. “Noble.” He chuckled. “But you helped my son. That’s about as heroic as it gets to me, doc.”

Blood rushed to your ears at your professional title being used so affectionately. “Go check on your kid, Hotch.” You waved back towards the direction of Jack, knowing that even though he was asleep, he’d want to see him anyway. You also hoped the slight distraction would draw his attention away from your increasingly flustered state. “You’ll have plenty of time to praise me.” You weren’t entirely sure you’d wanted the sentence to exit your mouth, but it was too late to bite your tongue.

He raised his eyebrows so slightly that you scolded yourself for having noticed. Such a minuscule action that seemed to move mountains within your brain. “Oh?”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes at your own remark. “I’m walking away. You know what I meant.”

“Mhm.” He smiled, nodding his head dramatically and rising from his seat. “Just name a time and place, doc. I’ll do good on that promise.”

You went momentarily braindead, hoping your eyes weren’t giving away the less than work appropriate feeling pumping through your veins. You stared baffled at him for what was definitely a millisecond too long before giving a half-shocked, half-flattered laugh and gesturing him away. “Say that when you’re not obviously sleep deprived and delirious and maybe we can arrange it.” The last thing you heard was him, laughing the way you do when you’re very serious but desperately trying to pass it off as a joke. You knew it well, having done it almost every time you were around him since you started. Comfortable, witty retorts between  friends. “Have a good night, Aaron.” 

Aaron, he thought. He’d remember that.

– 

That had been the second shift between the two of you. Felt immediately by both parties and tossing you both into the deep end of whatever you’d been building with him. He’d been much more touchy, seemingly subconscious on his part but noticed by every part of your body, mind, and soul. You thought about what it could mean, then sunk even further into your incoherent mind when realizing just how subconscious the actions really were. He was just drawn to you. You had viscerally fought that conclusion as it came to you but it genuinely could not be anything else. He was touching you more because - whether on the surface or deeper down - he just wanted to, and that fact was wrecking you. You were so fucking into him that it hurt. Hurt to look at him or be in his home watching Jack or have his knee pressed against yours in the back of car during a team outing. It all hurt because he wasn’t yours. He seemed into you, too. Of course, you didn’t know to what extent. You worried maybe he hadn’t said anything yet because he simply didn’t like you enough, and that hurt more than any other factor. It was a foolish notion - one you would have abandoned instantly had you peeked inside his head - but alas, no such luck.

He’d been more relaxed, too. The two of you reaching a point in your relationship you hadn’t ever let yourself dream about. He was funny, achieving that lightness around you that you’d wanted from the start. He’d gotten riskier, amping up the dial on his remarks a bit. Starting with those like the hospital, ending with ones that made you have to take a breather in the room where they kept the coffee. It hadn’t gone unnoticed, per say, but the others were certainly ignorant to the true depth of the change. You simply couldn’t measure it by witnessing, you had to feel it. And fuck were you feeling it. 

A week or so after Jack’s ER visit, you’d asked after him. You didn’t know if the regret was immediate, but it flooded through you quickly. Aaron got nervous, shifty, like you’d touched a live wire of his and he now had to patch it up before it blew. You got concerned, asking if something happened with his stitches or if Jack was now showing some sort of trauma response to the event. Was that even plausible? You weren’t sure, PTSD wasn’t exactly your strong suit. However, he quickly stated that wasn’t the case, noting that Jack was actually in perfect health and had been relentless about wanting you over for dinner.

“He’s grateful.” Hotch was smiling with paternal reluctance, proud of his son for having such good morals but also uncomfortable with the possibility of rejection he was facing. “He wants to see you, say thank you for “saving his life.” He emphasized the last bit in a sarcastic tone, both of you knowing his life hadn’t been in danger but also knowing that fact wouldn’t deter the boy from considering you some type of guardian angel. “Would you be up for it?” If you hadn’t been so focused on snuffing out the heat rushing to your face, you would have seen that same heat reflected in a slight pink across his cheeks. 

“Definitely.” You smiled at the thought of the boy bugging his dad about getting you to the house. “When were you thinking?”

“Saturday night?” Both of you were scheduled to be off that day, and you found yourself begging whatever merciful being would listen to not have some lead to chase that day. “He’ll want the day to prepare.” He chuckled.

“Oh no.” You joked. Prepare? You couldn’t even begin to imagine what that meant. “Well, I am extremely curious to find out what an eight year old boy has to prepare for. How about seven? Would that be good?”

Aaron felt his palms start to sweat. He’d never actually been around his house when you’d been there, only seeing you on your way out. “That’s perfect.”

“Great.” You smiled, checking the time and realizing you needed to get going to the hospital. “I’m looking forward to it.” You nodded slightly as one last confirmation and headed out, suppressing a giddy smile while trying to force yourself into a headspace you could work in. 

In the meantime, Aaron watched you walk off from where he’d been perched on your desk, entirely oblivious to the man watching the scene.

“As I live and breathe.” Rossi had crept up on him, not spooking him but rather suspending him in a state of immeasurable embarrassment. “Aaron Hotcher has a crush.” The man held his shoulder, patting him there like a father witnessing his son get his first girlfriend. “She’s a good one. Quite the eye you got, Aaron.” Then he was gone, walking away with Aaron’s dignity clasped in his hands. Closing his eyes in pure mortification, Hotch simply thanked God that nobody else was around for that and walked away with the intention of fusing to his office chair to avoid ever looking at Rossi again. At least you’d said yes, he thought. He didn’t know how he’d cope with his friend watching him swing and miss.

–

The daylight seemed to be anticipating this more than you were, hours passing by like minutes until eventually the sun woke you up on Saturday morning. It was blazing through the cracks in your blinds, settling in slim lines across your floor, as light and gentle as snow. You’d been rehearsing your poker face in preparation for tonight. Writing safety manuals for any ungodly situation that could happen, everything from a fire to Aaron gaining the ability to read your mind and unearthing what you really thought about him. You were so happy that Jack held you in such high esteem, but your hands were shaking at the thought of sitting down with him and his father and acting like it wasn’t the dynamic you fucking dreamt about. You knew it was a good sign of compatibility if someone’s cat liked you - did their child liking you mean the same thing? You hoped Jack’s seemingly innate approval of you gave you at least a couple brownie points. Aaron had called you a hero. Swiftly ignoring the memory of what he’d said after he called you a hero, you pulled out your phone. You and him didn’t really speak outside of work and babysitting schedules, but you were pacing around your room and needed something to give you a semblance of structure, a reassurance - even if it was just for the time. You texted, asking if you were still on for tonight, then went to go make breakfast and inevitably pace some more. He’d gotten back to you about twenty minutes later, confirming the time and giving details of how excited Jack was about it. You smiled at that, praying tonight would be as smooth as humanly possible and you could walk away with an ounce of emotional control. You set an intention, this wouldn’t deepen your feelings for Aaron. Was it a pointless goal? Yes. Was it also highly unlikely to prove true? Yes. But the loose plan you worked around the resolution almost completely extinguished the anxiety that had been blazing for hours now. It would be fine, you thought. Completely and utterly fine. 

The same words were looping through your thoughts when you got to his front door. Casual - but still minorly more dressed up than he’d seen you. You’d put a little extra effort into your appearance, mainly to pass the time if you were honest, and you walked in with mild confidence fueling your steps. You did your best not to ogle him, he was in an attire that was already threatening to unravel the safety net of the goal you set. You were used to the suits hidden beneath blazers you cursed the existence of, maybe a snippet of his forearms when he rolled up his sleeves late at night. Now, though, he sported a simple black tee, more comfortable than you’d ever seen him. Domesticity was practically oozing from the entire situation. You felt the pieces slip into place as Jack ran up behind him, and you almost cried with how badly you wanted this feeling to be your normal. 

“Hey, buddy.” You laughed as he hugged you, reciprocating the act as well as you could from the multiple feet you had on his height. “How’s the arm?”

He raised up his wrist, now gauze free and proudly showed off the scar there. You played up the genuine admiration you felt for him. “That’s a pretty gnarly scar.” He nodded in response, probably feeling cool for the evidence he handled such an injury. “I don’t want to see you back in my operating room, you hear me? Scared the life out of us.” The scolding was playful, and he giggled at your words.

Aaron huffed in agreement, cocking his head to the side slightly. “You can say that again.” Jack looked between you two, smiling and seemingly thinking something neither of you could decipher. To break the moment of silence, Aaron patted his shoulder. “Why don’t you tell her what’s on the menu, buddy?”

He told you, and you hummed along to his words, commenting that it sounded delicious and actually meaning it. He ran away a second later - presumably back to whatever he’d been doing before you got there - and left you and Aaron alone. Venturing into the kitchen, you saw multiple pans and pots sitting neatly on the stove, table set and ready to be utilized. Everything was being kept warm, and you finally gained an appetite after having wrestled with nerves all day. 

“Do you want a drink?” He asked it while entering the kitchen, pausing to look at you. 

“Please.” You were desperate to calm yourself, eager to subdue the shaking of your hands. “Do you have any wine?” You weren’t the biggest fan, but you couldn’t think of a drink more fitting for the evening.

He nodded slightly. “Red or white?”

“White.”

He chuckled. “Thought so.” It was quiet, more to himself than you as he was already walking away from you when he said it. He’d thought about what kind of wine you liked, you thought. He’d thought about you. He pulled two wine glasses down from the cupboard, then walked over to the fridge. He reached above it, barely having to stretch, and pulled an uncorked bottle from the storage up there. You felt your legs tense looking at how tall he was, how sure he was of his actions. Jesus. It’s been five minutes and you were crumbling. You watched his hands as he uncorked the bottle, reading the label and realizing the brand.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Seems a little fancy for a dinner.”

He laughed under his breath as he finished pouring the glasses, walking back over to sit next to you on the island stools. “You’re a guest of honor.” He placed yours in front of you. “I thought it was fitting.” 

You searched, but couldn’t find the humor in his tone. You raised your eyebrows slightly. “Am I?” It was sarcastic, you needed to stop the heat in your stomach from spreading. “I didn’t know doing your job earned such a title.”

He was drinking as you spoke, finishing his sip before joking back. “You’re a doctor.” He said. “I thought you knew that better than anyone.”

You sucked air through your teeth as if wounded by his words. “Touche.” You took a sip of your drink, relishing the taste. Damn, he didn’t come to play. He laughed, and you set your glass back down. “Ok, I have to know.” He drew his attention to you. “What the hell did Jack need the day to prepare for?” The question had been on your mind since he asked you.

He took a drink, chuckling with a mouthful then swallowing so he could reply. “He actually helped cook most of this.” He nodded towards the stove full of different dishes. “That was what he needed the day for. Time for trial and error.”

You grinned at the thought of Jack and Aaron spending the day in aprons, making sure everything turned out perfect. “That is the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”

He looked back towards Jack, coloring in the living room, close enough to see but far enough to miss your discussions. “He gets nervous around you.”

That surprised you. “Why on Earth would he be nervous around me?” You took your turn looking at the boy, an idea hitting you and making you feel sick. “Wait, I didn’t do something did I?”

He looked back at you, smiling. “No, no. Nothing like that. He gets nervous because he likes you. He knows who you are to me, too, so he wants to make a good impression.”

Your mind latched onto that sentence and played it like a broken record, bouncing between your ears over and over. “Oh?” Your lips were curling up at the corners, eyebrows furrowing as you got ready to hold him to that statement. “And who might I be to you, Aaron?”

Fuck. He’d let that slip past his lips without even thinking about it. So used to being in the confidential company of his son. Good thing he used to be a lawyer and could lie his ass off. “Most of his sitters aren’t also my coworkers.” He delivered it the smoothest way he could, smiling and drinking to hopefully exude a false comfortability that he certainly wasn’t feeling.

“Mhm.” You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to look sarcastic but in truth downplaying the sting you felt. What if this had been one-sided all along? You hadn’t prepped a safety guide for that.

Luckily, Jack came sprinting into the kitchen a second later, pleading with his father to eat now. Clinging to his leg and declaring how hunger was killing him by the second, dramatically threatening to wither away before your very eyes. You both shared a look, agreeing silently to put the kid out of his misery. The instinctual nature of the act hit you like a bolt of lightning. Both of you so in tune it was comical. The dinner had been lovely, and you reminded yourself to encourage Jack to keep up his cooking hobby. Maybe you could foster a professional chef. You’d talked with them both, light and the happiest you’d felt in a while. There it was, you realized. That weightless feeling you wanted to give him. You felt it in yourself too, and you could only pray it was because he felt it first. When dinner concluded, you’d help clean up while Jack resumed his coloring. His bedtime was soon, and you didn’t want him to spend his last hour washing pans. He was nearly delirious by the time 9:00 graced the clock, tired from the preparation of the day and needing to get to sleep. He’d given you a hug goodnight, thanked you for coming like the gentleman he was, and that was the last you saw of him. The rest of your time there was spent on the couch with Aaron, you both held a second glass of wine, and you noticed it manifest in the blush on his face. He was gorgeous, and you were staring. You know your eyes went to his lips a couple times as he spoke, low and rougher as the time ushered more light out of the sky. You saw his eyes slip down a few times too, this sort of unspoken, agonizing rule of look don’t touch. He’d walked you to the door, thanked you for your attendance, and then you were leaving. Sitting in your car, warm on the inside from both his presence and the anger you felt at yourself for not just kissing him. You were so incredibly needy for this - for him, and that fact just sat with you, like a raincloud constantly in a state of downpour, never letting you forget the pure fucking craving you had for him.

–

You think the start of your blackout was Morgan’s panicked voice over the speaker. You’d been stationed in your typical hut, equipped with medical gear and waiting on someone to need you. It was almost never your team in need of service, typically you were tending to an injured hostage or sometimes the unsub themselves, but never your friends. Your breath had been baited since you’d heard the gun go off. You knew the case was dealing with an aggressive attacker, you’d been expecting a fight, but nothing is ever more excruciating than waiting to hear who the shot was meant for. Derek crying out your name followed by a “get in here. Hotch is down, we need you in here.” had you ready to run the soles of your shoes down to dust just to make it in time. In time. God, in time for what? You’d ran past Emily and Rossi hauling out the unsub, anger evident in their treatment of him. How bad was it? How bad had he got him to have them acting like that?

The scene was bloody. Your brain switching off and forcing you into autopilot as you registered the pool of Hotch’s blood that Morgan was kneeling in. He was putting pressure on the wound, an attempt to stop the bleeding but it was flowing like a river. He wouldn’t make it to the hospital like this, you realized. He wouldn’t make it to the fucking hospital. You were holding his life in between your hands right now, the slightest tremor could sever that chord and you were feeling the pressure hard. Aaron was leaned against the wall, slumping down slightly which was only making the bleeding increase under the internal pressure. 

You looked at Morgan, putting on the bravest face you could muster and effectively seizing control of the situation. “Morgan.” You got his attention quickly. “On three I need you to lift him away from the wall. I need to check for an exit wound.” He just nodded, doing exactly as you’d told him when you reached three. You checked the area, finding an exit wound in nearly the same spot. It’d been a straight line. You sighed in relief. Thank fucking God. “Ok, Morgan, I need you to put pressure on the wound on his back. I’m going to stitch the front to give us the time we need for the hospital drive but I need you to hold it. You got me?” 

He nodded once. “I got it.” He moved his hand from the front to the back, Aaron wincing at the switch.

You took out the numbing cream from your pack, knowing it wouldn’t do much for a gushing bullet wound but hoping it would at least quell the sting of a needle. You took out the needle, threading it with hands frighteningly stagnant as the adrenaline gave you tunnel vision. You had to save him. “Aaron.” You looked at him as you prepped his skin for the procedure. “I’m gonna need to double stitch this, and it’s gonna hurt like hell. I need you to stay with me.” 

The man just nodded, exhaling in exhaustion. “Do it.”

You worked as quickly as possible, gaining hope as you listened to the ambulance approach. “There you go.” You said under your breath, at this point you couldn’t tell if you were reassuring him or yourself.  You looked to Morgan, who was still sealing the other injury. “Help me get him up. Keep your hand on there. These stitches are gonna give us twenty minutes tops. Hold his shoulders straight and walk quickly.” You counted again, both of you rising when you hit three, taking the man with you. The walk to the ambulance was the longest of your life. Aaron was clinging to his consciousness but you knew he was losing grip. Finally getting him to the stretcher and slamming the doors was a relief like nothing else. There was no time to debate anyone else going, you rushed him in and sat right down beside him, taking off almost immediately after. The bleeding had slowed, and your hand took the place of Morgan’s on his back. Since he was laying down, his full weight was on it, and you felt the circulation lessen more and more as it remained there. You couldn’t care less, you’d let the blood drain from your entire arm if it meant Aaron’s survival. He hadn’t passed out, which you thought was miraculous, simply walked the line of decently delirious. Groaning under his breath at every slight bump in the road. 

“Why am I always having to save you Hotchner men?” You knew now wasn’t the time to be humorous, but you would have done anything to deviate from the tears in your eyes, the ball in your throat. You finally understood why it was frowned upon to date coworkers - it should be illegal to care this much. 

“I don’t know, honey.” The pet name was the kicker, allowing a tear to break the dam and roll down your cheek as he chuckled. “You seem to be pretty damn good at it, though.” You laughed too, fighting the devastation you felt at the sight of him with the fact that he was clearly well enough to still be joking. “I should have kissed you when you came for dinner.”

Fuck. “Aaron, now is not the time.” You chuckled slightly as more tears fell. This is absurd.

“I know but-” He flinched as the ambulance hit another bump. Almost there. “I might as well say it now.” You wondered if there was genuinely something wrong with him. “You’ve been all I can think about since the moment-'' He paused to breathe slightly in exertion, you giving a disapproving look as his confession took it’s toll. “since the moment you started, you know that?”

“You are dying! Please, for the love of God, Aaron. Use this energy to prevent that from happening.” Your scolding was dramatic, but your actual concern shone brightly through your ruse of sarcasm. 

“Exactly.” He was being equally as sarcastic. How on Earth did he manage this with a rapidly declining life force. “Give a dying man a chance. How unfortunate would it be if the last thing I hear before I go out is the woman of my dreams rejecting me?”

“Jesus Christ.” You shook your head in pure amazement. This was by far the most goal oriented man you’d ever met. “I’ll let you take me out if you shut the hell up and save your energy.” He smiled, letting his head hit the reclined back of the stretcher. “After you get better.” You added, reminding him that his recovery took priority. “Deal?”

“Deal.” This was probably the most insufferable man you’d ever met. “Such a good motivator.”

Scratch that. Most insufferable man ever.

[beloveds-embrace]

PLEASE,….,, im begging you give me a break from the duchy au angst PLEASE GIVE ME SOME FLUFF

We all need a break 🙂‍↕️ here you go, anon! 💗

Dukedom au masterlist (not yet fully updated)

The first snow of the season finally fell and blanketed the grounds of Price manor, transforming the estate into a true winter wonderland. You stood by the frosted window in the sitting room, wrapped in a warm shawl, watching the flurry outside with a soft smile. The warmth of the fire behind you offered a comforting contrast to the icy world beyond the glass panes, the crackle of burning wood a soothing ambience that eased the mind.

It was a rare moment of stillness in the manor, with no pressing duties or social engagements demanding your attention. Your fingers traced absent patterns on the windowpane, thoughts wandering here and there until the sound of a throat clearing drew your attention.

Johnny stood in the doorway, a handsome grin tugging at his lips. His cheeks were flushed from the cold, and a hint of snow dusted his dark hair. He stepped towards you, grin softening into something fond. “Lass, ye look far too peaceful. Fancy a bit of fun in the snow?”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Fun in the snow? Johnny, I hardly think-”

Before you could finish, Kyle appeared beside him, a resigned but equally amused expression on his face. “He’s already dragged the stablehands into a snowball fight. You’d best join, my lady, before he wreaks havoc on the entire household.”

Your laughter bubbled out before you could stop it. Kyle had snow all over his shoulders. “And you? Did he rope you into this as well, Kyle?”

Kyle’s lips twitched, his tone as dry as ever. “I’m merely here to ensure no one ends up with frostbite. Or worse, Johnny getting pelted by a snowball with rocks in it again.”

“That happened one time!”

It was then that Simon strolled in, adjusting his coat. He cast a critical look at Johnny, and then shook his head. “You’re dragging the Duchess outside in this cold? She’ll catch her death.”

“Not if she bundles up properly,” Johnny huffed, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the coat rack. “C’mon, love, live a little!”

Your protests were half-hearted as he helped you into your newest winter cloak, his enthusiasm infectious. Kyle and Simon waited, and even helped bundle you up further until the warmth on your cheeks were more from kisses than being fully covered.

Within moments, you were outside, your boots crunching against the fresh snow. The air was crisp, the sky a pale gray, and the laughter of the staff echoed from the gardens. They greeted you as you passed, smiles and excitement clear on them.

John stood on the veranda, his hands in his pockets, watching the chaos with an indulgent smile. His sharp eyes softened immediately as they landed on you, snow dusting over your cheek already, giggling as Johnny aimed a snowball at Simon and missed spectacularly.

And then Johnny and Simon both turned their focus on you.

“You’re enjoying this far too much,” John called as you ducked behind a hedge for cover, joining a maid who grinned and helped you begin preparing snowballs.

“Come join us, Your Grace!” you called back, cupping your hands around your mouth.

His smirk widened, but he shook his head. “I’m better as a referee, my love.”

Kyle, ever practical, soon found himself roped into the game despite his earlier protests. You shrieked as he launched a surprisingly, scarily accurate snowball your way, only for Johnny to step in and shield you with his body, dramatically flopping into the snow as if mortally wounded.

“Go on without me, lass,” he groaned, sprawled on the ground. You and the maid watched him, giggling. “Tell my story… tell my bairns not to forget me…”

Your laughter rang out, bright and unrestrained, and you offered him a hand. “You’re ridiculous, Johnny.”

“Aye, but ye love it.” He replied with a wink, and checking that everyone else was sufficiently distracted and the maid has left, tugging you down into the snow beside him just for a few moments.

Simon joined soon after, his usual composed demeanor giving way to competitiveness as he and Kyle teamed up against Johnny. Even John eventually relented by your insistence and a little pleading pout, stepping off the veranda to orchestrate a proper snow fort building contest.

Hours passed in a blur of laughter and play just like that, the biting cold forgotten in the warmth of shared joy. By the time everyone slowly returned indoors, cheeks ruddy and clothes damp, the sitting room felt like a haven. You beloved, ever-attentive Kyle was the first to fetch a warm blanket for you, draping it over your shoulders with a small smile.

Johnny disappeared into the kitchen, reappearing a while later with steaming mugs of cocoa for everyone. “Best remedy for cold fingers, bonnie.” he declared, pressing a mug into your hands and then a kiss over your temple.

Simon settled beside you, his arm draped casually along the back of the settee, along your back, and you lean into him with a soft sigh. “You’ve got snow in your hair, darling,” he murmured, gently brushing it away.

John watched the scene from his armchair, chest warm and content. The sight of you, nestled among the men he trusted and loved most, your laughter lingering in the air, was enough to make him feel like the luckiest man alive.

As the fire crackled and the snow continued to fall outside, you leaned back, your heart full. Your eyes fluttered shut, dozing in and out of the river of dreams, and though the conversations around you continued they made sure to lower their voices. You could feel a familiar hand, gentle and careful and wholly Kyle, caress your cheek.

And with joy still lingering in your veins, warmth curling your chest, you fell asleep safe and happy.

[pearlywritings]

Surprisingly

synopsis: for the public eye, the head of the Oak Family and his wife are a loving couple. In private they are astonishingly content with each other too.

pairing: Sunday x fem!reader

tw: fluff, arranged marriage, reader is halovian, established some time before the game quest on Penacony.

word count: 2.8k+ words

Nothing supports the man’s prestige and public image more than a proper marriage with a proper woman. So, I want you to meet this very woman, my child…

Two months, fifteen days and one hour. That’s exactly how long ago Sunday became a husband. A role he didn’t imagine himself playing, not with the role assigned to him from above. But, it was Gopher Wood - his adoptive parent basically, who brought you to him and announced his grand plan. And even if the head of the Oak Family had his doubts initially, a thorough conversation held with and without the Dreammaster, plus your immaculate background and some more specific matters proved to him that you were indeed chosen rightfully. He wasn’t sure if it was Mr Wood’s way of helping him, offering you as an aid at handling some of the work-related matters but with the seemingly perfect image of being wed - the elder gave no answers, however Sunday knew better than to question some of his schemes.

And so, your union was sealed. The ceremony wasn’t something exceptionally huge, none of you wanted that, but it was public enough for everyone and their mother to be talking about it. A couple of perfectly sterile interviews, some joint photos and three or four public appearances together, and people have been fooled enough to believe that.

That was enough.

Something as shocking as a wedding would avert the public eye and serve a great purpose in deceiving the people. After all, newlyweds are far too busy for one of them to be plotting something, right?

Right. So right, that Sunday himself was in a somewhat daze for the first week. But it’s understandable - on top of his regular responsibilities he had to prepare for the wedding and get to know the person he was about to spend life with better. Surprisingly, you turned out to be very understanding and supporting from day one, actively participating in whatever additional activity served on the man’s plate. It was weird, new and confusing, but above all he caught himself considering it not unwelcome.

You are astonishingly easy to work with. Well-versed in the matters of Family (but he shouldn't be all too surprised, given who brought you to him), soft, yet - when needed - firm spoken, not afraid to face the crowd in your husband's place for a public announcement and taking a portion of his responsibilities without any questions asked. If not for your interactions outside of all of that, Sunday would've thought you were his secretary and not a wife (but even a secretary wouldn't have known as much as you are aware of).

You are…comfortable. Sunday should really reproach himself for giving in so quickly, but it’s so hard not to. Maybe his vigilance is lulled with security of his patron’s choice or maybe it’s his own longing for normal civil interaction with someone close, but it didn’t take much time to start entertaining your sparks of curiosity.

Oh, how curious you are. Despite being trapped in a loveless marriage, you’ve been willing to learn about him from day one, trying to unfurl at least one tiny secret of his every day. He knows that because you are methodical, because you write it down (and you don’t hide the fact - when he, alarmed, asked or rather demanded you to show him that little notepad of yours, you just did so, with an explanation of your reasoning.)

Speaking of getting to know each other better… It’s still half an hour before your recently established tea time, but… But maybe he could summon you earlier? 

I hope, my child, this woman will become your reprieve. You are not obligated to love her, see her as just a companion, but feel free to treat her as a continuation of yourself. I educated her to match you specifically, after all.

As a continuation of himself… Isn’t it cruel to speak such things of a sentient being? Isn’t it putting one into the position of submission? 

Somehow it feels bitter on the tongue when he thinks of you.

His hand reaches for the bell, but promptly stops before the fingertips can touch the polished metal. Ah, of course, he asked to not be disturbed today. So, let him not violate his own order. He can find you on his own, not to mention, a small walk around the building might help clearing up his mind. Lately, he’s been thinking too much.

Spacious halls of the Dewlight Pavilion are empty, he knows as much, yet he hopes he won’t have to roam for too long, as the gloved hands push the doors of the meeting room. Today you two decided to work from the main Family residence in need of some materials here, and since no congregations were scheduled for the day, the building was all yours.

Each step of his is muffled by the carpet, lining the exactly 39 stairs, every next one lifting some of the weight from his shoulders and smoothing the deep frown of light gray brows. When his heels click on the small podium with the additional three steps, Sunday feels like his head is cleared. 

Stepping on the carpet again, he finally ends up in the big hall with the 5 Lineages symbols and a big City Sandpit in the middle. Quickly fishing his phone out of the pocket, he swiftly unlocks the screen and finds your name in the recent calls, dialing it.

When did it happen that conversations with you outnumbered ones with his sister?

You pick up the phone after just two seconds.

“Hello? What is it, Sunday?”

Ah, straight to the point, he admires that. And the calmness of your tone is surprisingly grounding.

“I was wondering if you’d join me earlier,” he speaks softly, barely holding off from calling you ‘dear’. It’s not wrong for the spouses, but how would you react? He asks strange questions lately. “Tell me where you are, I’ll come fetch you.”

“To answer your first question, I’d love to,” the young man might lie to himself, but he swears he heard your voice sweeten just a little. It makes the little wings behind his ears flutter, which he is quick to still. “As for your second one, however, you might want to look down.”

Sunday follows your instruction without much thought, looking right at the red carpet covering the marble floor.

“...I don’t believe I understand.”

He hears you chuckle, a tinkling sound, lacking any malice. His left wing slightly jerks as the favorable noise fills his left ear through the phone.

“The City Sandpit, beautiful. I am not far from the origami birds’ nest.”

As he moves to round the table, your husband’s heart skips a beat. You called him beautiful, you have done so on multiple occasions already. You praised his intellect, you gently clapped for the perfect choice of the clothes for the day he made, you agreed with him on the most mundane things incorporated into your daily lives. And not once it felt forced or fake. You were surprisingly sincere with him - he would’ve thought that with the Dreammaster’s upbringing you’d have been all mastered flashy smiles and sickly sweet polished words.

But here you’ve been, admiring him in your own quite blunt kind of way.

He immediately spots your tiny figure among the fake buildings on the city’s layout. You are waving at him with a smile.

“Found me,” he hears again in the speaker, but now also from you as well.

“Found you,” Sunday echoes, reaching his free hand to you. When he curls his fingers, you understand and, clutching the strap of the bag hanging from your shoulder, carefully climb onto his open palm.

Your husband is careful, finishing the call and putting the phone aside, before cupping the other hand under the one holding your sitting figure. Bringing you closer to his eyes he can see all the little details on the pretty pale blue dress you left home in this morning, with your second pair of clipped wings wrapped around the waist like another skirt. Then his gaze skims along your neck, adorned in one of the pendants he gifted you and then up to the first pair of wings, bigger than his when you are your normal size. 

He doesn’t have an opportunity to marvel over your intricate halo, because your eyes capture his in a vice, looking at him inquiringly.

“Didn’t expect you to take a break earlier. I thought you liked to stick to your routine.”

This was probably the first thing you learned about your back then betrothed.

“I do,” a tiny smile adorns his pale lips, “however, today I managed to wrap the most attention-requiring matters up earlier. Now only the mundane cases are left.”

“Good to hear that,” you hum, swinging your stocking-clad legs a little. His golden eyes look over your form once more, capturing the image of surprising comfortability in the hands of a bigger being, one that could crash your body so easily at the moment.

“I do wonder however about the reason behind your current predicament,” the male tilts his head in an inquiring way. “I believe I’ve never seen you enter the City Sandpit.”

Well, not to count the very first time he was giving you a tour.

“Oh, as I said, I know your routine, so I usually leave it before our meetings. I actually enter it quite often when we stay here,” is your answer that makes Sunday’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Pardon?”

“It’s easier to do paperwork this way,” motioning to the bag still on your shoulder, you then huff in annoyance. “If only you knew how eager your subordinates to bother me whenever you are unavailable. I am well-informed of my seeming position as the “lady-of-the-house”, but I’ve never signed up to be a link element between you and them, let alone a pawn in someone’s game of becoming first to seek your favor. Pardon me for my straightforwardness, but I much prefer interactions without actual feedback from the interlocutor if the situation doesn’t require otherwise. Except for you, of course.”

Except for him.

“You are my equal. You can always order them not to bother you,” drawing his hands closer to the chest, Sunday turns and starts walking closer to the table’s side where the gates are located.

“As if,” he glances down and catches just the end of your eye roll. “Mister Wood would have had my head if I ruined your picture as little as being distant from your inner circle. I’d much rather prefer just to hide away when needed and return to my secondary duties once I’m done with the primary.”

With the Dreammaker’s upbringing you would think a person can’t be as open-minded. Sunday is sure that it was no different from his - after all you have the clipped wings to match his. But, it seems, you found a way to temporarily escape from the suffocating clutches. Today he learnt a new thing about you, and, surprisingly it warms his soul instead of feeling repulsed.

He carefully puts you down just in front of the gates from the city’s side. Almost knocking off  a little ”DO NOT TOUCH” card near it, your husband moves to the right to let you step out. And in a couple of seconds of blinding light you stand before him in all your tall glory.

“Thank you for making the trip across the city so much shorter,” you grin, shaking the bag’s strap down your shoulder and rolling it, before unwrapping the wings from around your waist and spreading them in a stretch.

“It was my pleasure,” his tone is even, yet the gaze with which he watches you move gives him out. To this day and probably for a long while the levels of intimacy that used to be unknown to him yet which you display are going to surprise him. Sunday almost feels an annoying twinge of upsetness when you rewrap your wings around the dress’s skirt. Though it lets him see a couple of ruffled feathers and he has to suppress the urge of his hand to reach and fix them for you.

Yes, there is some intimacy between you lately, but not close enough.

“If you give me a moment to drop off my papers, I’ll be swift in joining you,” your voice breaks the man out of his self-restraining thoughts, and he lifts his eyes from your waist back to your face.

“Ah, it won’t be necessary. I’d like to have our tea time back at the meeting room, I have some things to discuss with you.”

“So official,” you smile, taking a step to join his side. “Alright then, let us be on our way up. Would you like to fill me in on the agenda of our ‘meeting’?”

“Sure,” Sunday chooses to ignore your teasing, but habitually offers you his elbow to hook your arm in it. “My sister is going to visit soon and she seems to be quite pissed at me.”

“Miss Robin?” Your question is laced with puzzlement. “I assumed from your stories of her that she is hardly in a sour mood.”

“It is true, yes,” your husband sighs, leading you up the first set of stairs. “But I would’ve been mad too if my sibling had gotten married and I did not know a thing.”

“She does not know about us?”

The man nearly halts in his ascending. If he didn’t know better and where your thoughts and loyalties stood in this marriage, he would’ve believed you are offended that he kept such an important fact a secret from his only family member. Nevertheless, he continues his walking.

“I sent her an invitation, you know that. But it seems the planet she’s been on is pretty far away and she’s gotten my message only recently, on her way back. I loathe to admit it, but now I feel very bad and the situation itself is iunjust. I am aware we were in a rush, all because of the- you know why,” he sees you nod from the corner of his eye and feels your fingers carefully dig into his arm, “but Robin has always wanted to be a maid of honor at my wedding. And I ripped this opportunity from her.”

And I am not going to get married the second time. This he did not voice out loud.

For a moment you both fall silent. You get lost in thought, Sunday does so too, analyzing his own words, wondering if this speech of his was too personal, if it was painting him as weak in your eyes.

And his own.

You speak only when he reaches for the knob and twists in to swing the door open and lead you two inside.

“So, how much time do we have before she gets here?”

“Maybe a couple of days,” he breaks the lock of your arms and gets a hold on the strap, sliding the bag down your shoulder and turning to put it aside for the time being. “Why asking?”

“You are a good brother, I can see that, “ ah, here you are, praising him again. “And it’s obvious you care for your sister and wish to give her the world. I suggest organizing a small party for her. This way she could experience what she missed and get familiar enough with me. I can negotiate with Mister Wood, I am sure I can convince him - he has some sort of a soft spot for you, Sunday.”

Surprisingly, it twists something uncomfortable in the halovian’s stomach.

“It sounds… delightful. However, are you certain you’d like to go to such lengths for Robin?”

“Well, she is your sister,” you chose the table farthest from the one your husband has been working at and grab the back of the chair to move it so you could sit, “and I am your wife. I’d love her to believe in us too. If I am not overstepping, of course.”

That’s actually not a bad idea. If almost four months ago someone - even you - suggested he let his sister and future wife meet, he’d be hesitant. He knows his little sister, he knows how perceptive she is - he is not so sure he wouldn’t have cracked under her inquisitive questions about whether he was happy with the arrangement or not. Plus leaving her sad and aching for brother if he let her know of the unjustness of the situation and still chose to proceed with the wedding is just too much for him.

Now he, at least, will not be lying that he is content if being asked.

“I accept your offer and thank you profusely for it,” Sunday slightly bows his head, to which you shake yours, reaching your hand out to beckon him to join you.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You’ll have time to thank me later, once we’ve already done something, alright?”

Surprisingly… It is indeed alright.

[formylovetodaryldixon]

"My everything." Daryl Dixon Imagine.

(Not my gif!)

A sleepless night after your and Daryl's baby was born.

A/N: Just a cheesy imagine hehe sometimes I like to imagine a soft dad!Daryl. I wrote this imagine for my Tom Holland page, so if you ever find it, you know why. Sorry if you see any grammatical errors. Hope you like it! Thank u.

Marley Rose Dixon was one month old now.

She was born in a warm room full of candles, in a blissful and foggy night in which the world of her mother and father was painted with beautiful colors again after walking in a grey world for so long, announcing her arrival with a loud cry that showed her freedom and her desire to live until the doctor (luckily, there was a few in Alexandria) placed her on your chest for the first time.

Marley was named after Daryl's older brother, and you didn't mind because despite everything, you knew how much he loved his brother. At first, the news wasn't easy for either of you two to take in (the option of abortion was considered at length), but the thought of a baby gave you both the hope that something better and more beautiful could come, too. And boy, it did.

Right there, the moment she was born, her blue eyes — identical to her father's — sparkled with the glow of two small diamonds, treasures hidden behind her long lashes from the first time she opened her eyes and gazed, serenely, at her parents, and the new world around her, a better world you two were trying to build for her.

But from that moment on, she cried, cried and cried from time to time.

At 2:54 am, Alexandria is submerged in a cozy dream far from the fear and death, unlike you, and it seems unreachable for you as you walk through your dark room taking soft steps and soft bounces, holding in your arms a small human being created from a great love and blah, blah, blah, other nonsense things you used to believe before being deprived of such a necessary resource, for your sanity and mental health (you didn't sleep much before her, and Daryl even less, but still), But you chuckle, numb from lack of sleep, tired, but at peace with yourself as her little head lies on your right arm and your left hand gently caresses her back, wrapped comfortably in a white blanket with pictures of little elephants, just like the pillow in the shape of the same animal that Uncle Rick found for her during a run.

You love her, you are crazy about her, even if days became difficult and nights were exhausting, (even with the monumental help Carol and the rest of the family gave you), but all the reward is in being able to hold her in your arms, warm and safe. Daryl calls her his angel, his princess, and at the time, it is an appropriate nickname for someone who cries to make her demands heard.

You chuckle, again.

"Is she tellin’ ya a good joke?" Daryl walks into the room, holding a bottle of warm milk in his hand.

You and Carol taught him how to do it, and now, he is an expert. His brown hair is tousled, but it usually is so no one could tell the difference, eyes tired from lack of sleep, shirtless and in gray loose sweatpants he refused to wear at first.

“15 minutes to make the milk? I was starting to get worried actually." You raise an eyebrow, speaking softly. "Why did you take so long? The milk is in the kitchen, not in another country."

"Sorry, sweetheart." Daryl apologizes as he hands you the bottle, sitting on the edge of the bed to watch his daughter stop crying the moment she feels the bottle against her pretty pink lips. "I closed ma eyes and jus' fell asleep for a minute."

You frown, continuing to stroke Marley's back.

"In a chair? On the counter?"

At the sound of your voice, Daryl's head falls until he almost hits his chest with his own chin, waking up from his light sleep before looking back at you. It's still funny to you how easy it was for him to go without sleep all those years, but after a month with Marley, Daryl considered killing walkers an easier task.

"What? No. Standin’. Didn't know that was even possible."

You shake your head gently, looking away to your baby who is enjoying a meal at 3 in the morning, resting peacefully, just like a princess, in your arms with eyes closed, body relaxed, arms outstretched to pretend to hold the bottle in your hand.

“Even dad can get a nap; you sleep whenever you feel like it… so, where is mom's nap? I mean, I've slept an hour every night since you were born, the room is a mess like us, and my breasts hurt too much."

Daryl chuckles.

"Can't help ya with that, darling. In fact, I think that's exactly what got us into this mess."

"What?"

"Yer boobs." Daryl babbles, smiling wearily, eyes closed as he falls against the edge of the bed, only to stop holding his own weight when he can no longer bear it. “Yer incredible, amazing boobs. They’re amazing and I love ‘em so much, but they were the temptation that brought us… this beautiful gift."

You shrug your shoulders, agreeing with him.

"They are amazing, and she is beautiful when she doesn't cry.”

"That's when I love ‘er the most." Daryl answers, and a second later, you both chuckle in unison.

“Although, it was kind of your fault for wanting to do it without a condom, you horny bastard.”

Daryl chuckles, and because he wasn't used to doing that before you, that tiny sound is endearing.

“Ya regret it?”

"Never." You say with confidence, because you know that he did not regret the decision either. You laugh quietly, after a while. “But… you know what I was thinking?”

“Um?”

“That this would be a good time to save money so she can go to a good college.” You joke. But Daryl wasn't used to making jokes, so with the help of the moonlight coming through the window, fighting the darkness of the room, he raises himself slightly to look you in the eyes, his brow slightly furrowed. “Jesus, I’m just kidding.”

Daryl chuckles, falling on the bed again, one arm over his eyes.

“Ya think is a good idea if we teach her how to kill walkers when she gets older? Marley could be the new little ass kicker.”

You smile to yourself, because for some reason, your daughter's name on his lips is like sweet honey. And, although you wanted to protect her from that world, the rules had changed, and in order to survive, she was going to have to learn to take care of herself too. Fortunately, it was still too early to think about that.

So, asleep again, you leave Marley in her crib near the bed before returning to it, laying down next to Daryl as he rolls over onto his left side, taking advantage of the time that you still have until the baby wakes up again, just to repeat the cycle you have been living in since Marley was born.

But life still feels good despite the fatigue and the occasional physical pain, because she was everything you never imagined you could have, not in that world, and she, more beautiful than you had ever dreamed of during the wait.

"Thanks, peach." Daryl whispers, so close to you that you can feel his nose against yours, his hand caressing your waist over your shirt, but you're so tired that it takes you a few seconds to gather your strength to respond.

"Why?"

"For our baby, for lovin’ me, for givin’ me a home. Ya two are ma everythin'."

You smiled, sighing.

"You're welcome, love. We are very, very lucky to have you." You say, taking a breath to answer as you look at him: eyes closed, body finally relaxed after having her on his chest most of the day. He is a good dad, the best. "But still, the next turn is yours alone."

Daryl, amused, looks blindly for the warmth of your body to pull you against him, tickling you slightly and that have you both smiling softly despite the absolute exhaustion, a few seconds before you both can fall into a deep sleep, finally.

[slaytheusurper]

⭑ In de middle of the night ⭑

Masterlist

A/N: I got a littleeee carried away with this one :)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x sister!reader

Summary: Being married to Aegon brought you no pleasure, especially when it comes to the bedroom and you were still without an heir. However your sweet brother Aemond is willing to help you out.

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, teeny tiny bit angst but really tiny, targcest, aegon being drunk asf, kissing, handjob, oral, facesitting, tongue fucking, finger riding, vaginal sex, breeding kink and squirting.

Word count: 4.7k

You stared up at the canopy above you, deep in thought while your husband Aegon sloppily rutted into you. His thrusts fast and eager, he had trouble keeping his cock actually inside you. It was another one of those nights where he came into your chambers or summoned you to his, stinking of wine, slurring words and ‘demanding an heir’. Everytime he did this, it would start by you taking your clothes off and laying on his bed for him. He would, less gracefully, take his off too and almost trip and fall to the ground trying to get over to you on the bed.

He could barely get his cock hard with a few tugs and would slip it inside, or rather force it, and you wondered, was this how he fucked his whores too? So you laid there waiting for him to slip out and pass out on top of you, before even actually finishing inside you. But of course it was your fault there was no heir after 6 months of marriage. You didn’t even know why your mother, queen Alicent, thought it was a good idea to make your life a living hell by marrying you off to your least favourite brother. Aegon's complaints during the betrothal didn’t go unnoticed by you, what also didn’t go unnoticed was Aemond’s reply to every nasty comment Aegon made about you. 

“She’s boring, always reading and never dancing or drinking like the rest of us.” Aegon would say, already tipsy of his precious vintage wine. “She’s unique and smart, you should appreciate her brother.” Aemond would fire back. They never realised that you would listen in and gods did you love Aemond for his protective nature. He always had your back. When you had nightmares as a child and even sometimes still, you would go to him, because you knew he would never judge you. 

Pulled out of your thoughts, Aegon once again slipped out and stupidly drunk passed out on top of you. “Aegon? Did you- finish already?” You asked hesitantly. No response. So as usual you pushed him off you, left his bed to get your nightgown. Got dressed and left his chambers, disappointed and hurt once more. You walked down the dark and cold halls of the Red Keep, dragging your feet back to your own chambers. When you got back, your handmaiden had already drawn a bath for you, for every time you got summoned to his chambers, she knew you would come back uncomfortable and disappointed. She felt bad and always showed it by trying to get you clean and comfortable again so you could finally go to bed. 

A week later you were taking a stroll through the gardens, looking for your favourite butterflies. The sun beaming down on you as your handmaiden trailed behind you, the tiny rocks crunching under your feet. The gardens were pretty much empty which was rare on beautiful days like this. After a while of observing your favourite butterflies, the eastern tailed butterfly, you decided to take a seat under the canopy at the far left side of the gardens. It was one of your favourite spots, secluded and only the royals were allowed here. 

Your handmaiden handed you your book and summoned some wine and cheese for you to enjoy, when you were comfortable you sent her away. In much need of some alone time. Sitting in the soft breeze of the wind and the cool shadows of the canopy you let out a sigh. “Enjoying the day sister?” Your heart skipped a beat at Aemonds voice, he almost appeared out of nowhere and pulled a chair to join you. “Brother you scared me.” You said with a breathy laugh. “I apologise, I just wanted to spend some time outside after training today.” He smiled slightly as he poured himself some wine. “How did it go? Did you embarrass Cole again?” You smiled at the memory, eyes fixated on your book still. “I always embarrass him, but it never stops amusing me. So...what are you reading today?” Aemond tried to read the title, slightly leaning forward to do so. 

“If I tell you you’ll laugh.” You replied, pressing the back of the book on your lap. “So romance I take it, you know I would never make fun of you for that.” He said, sipping his wine and peering over at you. Your cheeks flushed at his words, conversation was always easy and comforting with him. You wondered why it couldn’t be like that with your own husband. “I...heard you strolling back to your own chambers in the middle of the night again.” He seemed to observe his wine cup while he spoke, too embarrassed to look at you. Because you knew exactly what he was hinting at. Did Aegon finally manage to do it? Is it still uncomfortable and unpleasant?

No one knew you talked to Aemond about this, you would be disgraced if they did. But he was the only one you could trust. If you told your mother she would just insist to keep trying and that all would be well. “Yes. I was.” You replied curtly, you wanted him to do something about it. Maybe he could talk to Aegon? Clearly your dear husband ignored his mother’s pleas to stop drinking so much and to bed you properly, but to no avail. “Is he still not?” He didn’t even dare finish that sentence for he knew when your face tensed up and looked back at your book. “I’m sorry.” That was all he could muster up to say. He didn’t want to insult his brother but he was getting tired of seeing you like this. And of course the blame was always on the woman if she wasn’t soon with child after marriage. 

You almost threw your book on the table and stood up to walk towards the balcony that overlooked the sea. “I love Aegon but why is he like this? Why can’t he do his duty? Why does he have to scorn me like this, again and again.” Your eyes teared up at the thought of never being able to produce an heir for the realm. You heard the sound of a chair scraping against the tiny stones and felt Aemond’s presence suddenly behind you. Feeling his breath against your right ear almost made you shudder. “If you were wed to me, I would’ve performed my duty. You would’ve already been swollen with my child.” His whispers made your heart skip a beat and heat pool in your belly. You closed your eyes when you felt his hands on your hips, slowly moving toward your stomach as if to hold that said swollen belly. 

“Aemond…” It almost came out as a moan, the thought of him bedding you, fucking his seed deep inside you, it made you feel things you never felt with Aegon. You always thought he was brave and handsome, but after that night when Lucerys Velaryon took his eye, he changed. For the better you thought. As you got older he took to wearing an eye patch and why did he have to look so damn good with it. “I have an idea, but you must not tell anyone. It would solve this problem...but we can’t speak about it now and not here. Come to my chambers tonight, if Aegon calls on you, which I doubt since he talked about sneaking off to Flea Bottom, then tell him you’re too tired.” He embraced you from behind and left you with that. 

The rest of the day was spent anxiously in the gardens, even at supper you were too nervous to look at Aemond or even at Aegon who was already drowning in his cups. You were stabbing at your chicken, trying to get a piece of bone out when your mother spoke up. “Aegon, must you drink so much every night?” She looked at him with a piercing gaze. For some reason his eyes landed on you when he spoke. “Yes.” Was all he said. Your mouth almost fell open. Did he mean to suggest that he was only drinking so much because of you? His wife? His perfect and nothing but loyal and dutiful wife? When Aegon looked back at his plate you looked at your mother. She gave you a sympathetic look before leaving the table to check on her own husband, the king, who had been in a bad state the last couple of weeks. You quickly left the table after her, walking back to your own chambers, your handmaiden once again following quickly behind you.

“Dyana, I require a bath right now.” Once you were in your chambers, your handmaiden drew your bath and after a while you were relaxing in the hot water. When you were finished you got dressed and left your beautiful silver locks down for the night. You always had long hair that stopped right above your butt, soft big curls and shiny hair. It was something you were very proud of. And tonight you wanted to show it off for Aemond. You still weren’t entirely sure what he was up to but gods did you hope that it was what you were thinking of. 

You decided on a white, silk nightgown that had long sleeves and a small cute bow in the middle of the quite low neckline. The sleeves were wide and very princess-like, with the skirt of the gown itself long, airy and light. You made sure to smell of vanilla and sugar and when it was completely dark, and everyone must surely be asleep, you sent your handmaiden away to “go to bed” and snuck out not too long after to Aemonds chambers. 

You moved as quiet as a mouse through the dark halls of the Red Keep, nervousness and excitement in your chest. After a while you arrived at the door of Aemond’s chambers, his guards thankfully already sent away by him. You softly knocked on his door and seconds after, he opened it, quickly letting you inside. He was dressed in a soft cotton shirt, pants and his black boots. And he still looked as handsome as ever. “Why don’t we sit down, sweet sister.” He motioned over to the two settees in the middle of his chamber. You both opted to sit next to each other. 

“Now, I want you to listen to me carefully. I have an idea on how we can provide heirs and keep you satisfied as well. But no one must ever find out. Not even mother and especially not Aegon.” He started. “Since I am not married, I could- bed you. And give the realm the heirs it so desperately needs.” He looked at you, he was always calm and collected but now even you could see the gleam of nervousness and excitement in his eye. You could only nod, it was incredibly disgraceful, treacherous even. But it was the perfect solution. “I need you to say it out loud, say that you want me.” He muttered, inching closer to grab your face. “Please Aemond, I want you. I need you.” You whispered already looking at his lips.

That was all he needed to let go of any self restraint he had. He smiled and leaned in to kiss you. His lips felt so soft, which was in contrast to his rough and masculine demeanour. After a second you moved your lips against his. You wanted to hold his face as well but were a bit too nervous to do so. His right hand was still on your cheek and his left arm went around your back, to hold you closer to him. Aegon almost never kissed you, so this new exciting feeling left you heated and wanting for more. Aemond deepened the kiss, he let his tongue slightly swipe over your lower lip, asking for entrance. You eagerly granted this and let his tongue explore your mouth.

You couldn’t help the tiny moan slip past your lips. Aemond groaned, and just the mere sound of this had you clenching your thighs. Your arousal taking over your mind, you grabbed his shirt and let your tongue mingle with his. His hand that was on your back pulled you even closer and the hand that was resting on your face slithered lower to your bottom and he couldn’t help himself, he grabbed it hard making you moan into his mouth. His sanity was slipping at the sounds of your pleasure, he wanted this for so long. He wanted to show Aegon exactly how he should be fucking his wife. 

“Do that- again.” You whimpered against his lips, for some reason, his manhandling turned you on. It was another side of him you had never known, the rougher Aemond, the Aemond that took what he wanted. He did as you commanded, grabbing your ass and giving it a harsh squeeze, which earned him another moan. Fuck- if he knew that this is what you wanted all along he would’ve done this 6 month’s ago. Before the wedding, to make you his, just so he could do this whenever he wanted. The friction of his pants on the tip of his hard cock got him even more riled up. It just felt so fucking good. At this point he’d do anything you commanded. He gave you another smack on your ass and groaned in your mouth. 

“Fuck- you love this don’t you, getting thrown around by me. Tell me it’s me you’ve always wanted, not Aegon.” He almost grunted the words against your lips, still feverishly moving against you. “It’s always been you and only you- If Aegon fucked me better- I could’ve at least imagned it was you bedding me- but even that he won’t grant me.” You spoke breathlessly against his lips. He removed his lips from yours and gave you a look that could make you finish right there and then. “Let me remove your dress and show you what your husband should’ve done all along.” He spoke in such a low and husky tone, you could feel the slick between your legs. 

You once again were at loss for words and simply stood in front of the seated man. He grabbed your skirt and stood up to help you lift off the dress that now felt too heavy on your body. Once the dress was raised above your head he threw it on the other settee behind you. Then you saw the lust in his eyes as he took in your body. “How could my idiot of a brother not absolutely devour you every night. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes upon. Let me treat you like the goddess you are.” He didn’t even let you respond before he lurched forward to lick and suck at your breasts leaving them slick with his saliva. “Oh Aemond- please- I need you so so so bad.” You almost sobbed when he let his middle finger glide between your wet folds. He drank in your moans as he let his finger explore your soft cunt. Already imagining how it would feel around his cock. That thought alone alongside the feeling of your wet pussy sent beads of precum dripping out of his aching tip. Leaving a dark sticky patch in his pants. 

When he decided that your nipples were aching and sensitive enough he finally let his mouth off them, a tiny spit trail connecting you. Then he started kissing down your stomach, even further down until he was on his knees. You were in complete awe of the sight before you and gods help you when he finally reached your cunt. Leaving a tiny peck right above your puffy clit he started to absolutely devour you. Licking and sucking at your wet folds, you moaned his name, whimpering and begging for air as he went. Never in your life had you felt this good and you only just started. You had to hold on to something so you grabbed his hair. And right as he sucked on your clit you pulled at his roots earning a moan from Aemond right against your clit. The vibration of it felt like heaven, he then grabbed your right leg and put it over his shoulder so he had better access, holding your ass for support. 

Only mere seconds later the amount of build up of pleasure made you hold your breath, at last with Aemond lapping faster over your clit with the tip of his tongue, you saw stars as you gasped for air, chanting Aemonds name like a prayer, gripping his silver locks holding him in place as he continued licking and sucking your clit through your orgasm. “Fuck- fuck!” You almost screamed, still gasping for air when he finally released his head from between your thighs. “Good girl, if only I could make you cum on my tongue every night.” He spoke when he rose from his knees, after he gently placed your leg back on the floor. His sultry voice made you open your eyes again and the mere sight of him- His lips, nose and chin- covered in your slick. “However, I’m not done with you yet my love.” He smiled and led you over to his bed to this time remove his own shirt and boots. 

As you laid back on the pillows, mind still woolly from your orgasm, you watched as he raised his shirt over his head. He was more slender than Aegon but more defined. He had toned abs and a strong but soft chest. Almost angelic. He didn’t have any hair, unlike Aegon, but you actually loved that. His arms were long and veiny just like his hands. His v-line was defined and let your eyes wander to the hard bulge in his pants. Yet he removed his boots instead and joined you on the bed. He laid next to you and traced your legs. Then he patted his thighs, silently asking you to sit on them. 

You did as he asked and moved over to sit on him, his thighs weren’t too thick but muscular and strong. Probably from all the training he did. His hands grabbed at your breasts again and he couldn’t help but mutter, “Fucking beautiful.” His hands then moved down your stomach right back to where you wanted him most. Letting his thumb move in circles over your clit again, you moaned at his touch. “I want you to do something for me.” He spoke. “Anything- anything for you.” You replied, breathlessly as he still let his thumb rub over your sensitive slick clit. “I want you to ride my fingers. And when I make you come with that, you’ll ride my face. Good and hard, understood?” You almost moaned again at his words. How did you get so lucky? Were the gods finally rewarding you for these horrible past few months? “Fuck- yes. I’ll- I’ll do anything you want.” You panted. 

He didn’t remove his thumb but let his middle finger once again glide between your folds to find your tight hole. This proved to be an easy task, you were still so wet from your previous orgasm that he easily slipped inside. Once he had his finger inside he added a second. He waited a bit for you to get used to the stretch before he gave you a smack on the ass again with his other hand. “Move darling, ride my fingers like you would my cock.” You gasped and almost immediately started moving against his hand, he made sure to curl his fingers in a way that they would hit exactly the right spot inside you every time you moved. The sensation of his fingers inside you while you grinded on his hand already felt amazing but of course he had to add his thumb again, wanting to make sure your clit wasn’t deprived of pleasure. 

This made you clench around his fingers, earning a groan from him. As you rode his fingers faster, chasing your high, his other hand moved from your ass to your face, grabbing your chin and sticking his thumb inside your mouth, you sucked on it instinctively. Moving the flat of your tongue against it. “That’s a good fucking girl, already knowing exactly what I want don’t you? Riding my fingers like you need them to survive. Fuck I can’t wait to fill you with my seed. See your swollen belly and know that I did that. Shit you don’t even know what you’re doing to me hāedar*.” His filthy words alongside his thumb rubbing over your clit made you once again see heaven itself but this time the feeling of your orgasm approaching felt different like something was about to burst. You wanted to tell him but with his thumb still in your mouth this proved difficult. Before you could stop it you grabbed his arm for support as you squirted all over his fingers and chest. “Gods- yes. Fucking cum for me. Cum all over my fucking fingers.” Aemond groaned out, he never thought he would see such a heavenly sight. This certainly did not help his own condition. But he did discover a new kink.

You rode out the last bit of your orgasm, finally allowed more air when Aemond removed his thumb from your mouth, rubbing his hand soothingly on your leg instead. When you had caught your breath you looked at the mess you made underneath him. “I- I tried to warn you- I’m sorry- I didn’t-” Before you could mutter out any more apologies Aemond cut you off. “Don’t ever apologise, that was fucking amazing. Making you feel such pleasure is all I ever wanted in life. So next you’ll do it on my tongue.” He wasted no time in grabbing your hips and moving you over his face, pressing you down on his mouth and his nose. You sighed and hoped you could handle another orgasm. Because he was clearly not finished with you yet. 

He stuck his tongue inside you and grabbed your hips once again to hold you down. Your body almost moved automatically, as if you no longer had control. You knew you weren’t going to last long this time, the sensitivity making sure of that. But what you didn’t expect was his beautiful nose hitting your clit just right as he tongue fucked you. He grunted and groaned at the taste, holding your hips to grind you on his face. “Aemond- Aemond please I need you- please fuck me- please!” You sobbed, it felt so fucking good, never in your life had you dreamed of such pleasure. Grinding and moving harder and faster on his face, your orgasm was approaching once again. 

And this time you hoped you would release all over him again as he so desperately wanted. Luckily your wish was granted. You felt the same full bladder like build up once again and leaned back to hold on to his torso for support. His nose hitting your sensitive puffy clit, his tongue fucking you deep inside and his own sounds of pleasure sent you over the edge. Warm liquid gushing over his face, the vibrations of his own moans and bucking of his hips in desperation, if you were to die now you wouldn’t care for it, you would die a happy woman. After making sure you were fully fucked out he released his grip and let you catch your breath. 

Your knees buckled from underneath you and your body fell limp on the bed next to him. And he had yet to fuck you with his cock. “Please Aemond I need your cock, I need your seed inside me, please, it’s all I ever wanted.” You pleaded, eyes still watery from overstimulation. “Don’t worry my love I plan on doing so, let me breed you good and proper, like you deserve.” He whispered against your neck. You hadn’t even noticed him moving on top of you. You heard rustling and opened your eyes to see Aemond at last removing his pants, releasing his hard cock. He was big and long, veins all over his shaft, his tip red and angry leaking with pre cum. When he threw his pants to the side he moved back to you, making sure you were okay he kissed you, soft and tender. You smiled against his lips as a confirmation. 

He kissed you once more on your forehead before grabbing his cock by the base, letting his tip move through your slick folds. Smearing his pre cum and your own spend around. He moaned at the warm and soft feeling. Aemond really had to remind himself not to immediately ram inside you and fuck you senseless, as much as he really wanted you. The last thing in the world he wanted was to hurt you. “Ready my love?” He asked. “Yes please, I want you to fuck me dumb...until I can’t even speak anymore.” You whispered, a smile on your face at the thought of finally having his cock buried inside you. “Trust me, I will.” He said before sliding in, letting out a loud moan as he did, slowly burying his cock inside, all the way until he could feel your cervix with his tip. 

After a couple of seconds he made sure he could move. He couldn’t hold back any longer and started rutting inside you like a dog in heat, panting and moaning as he did. This time moaning your name over and over again. You gripped his shoulders and back for support as the entire bed shook and banged against the wall. You both couldn’t give less of a fuck if someone heard. A tiny part inside you wanted to be caught, maybe you could finally be his. He leaned down and captured your own moans in his mouth, licking a stripe up your lips, catching your upper lip with it for a moment. You whimpered in response. The things you would do for this man. The sounds of your unholy moans and groans, your skin hitting his, the sound of his balls filled with seed slamming against you filled the room and probably the hall. “So fucking good- so fucking tight for me.” He moaned. 

“Please Aemond- I’m going to come- please fuck me harder!” You begged against his neck holding on to him tight before your pussy clenched around him, your fourth orgasm making you shake and curl your toes. Accidently scratching up his back in response. “You want my fucking seed princess? Want it inside you hm? I’m going to fill you to the fucking brim.” His own words and the feeling of your nails scratching his back sent him over the edge himself, burying his face in your neck, biting down on you as he delivered a final pump before indeed filling you to the brim with his seed. With a final couple of slow trusts to pump his seed good and deep inside you he released his grip on you. After having caught his breath he kissed you, and removed his softening cock so he could lay by your side. The sheets were covered in sweat and both of your cum as you could feel some of his seed dripping out of you. Aemond noticed and used his finger to push it back inside. “There, however, most of the time women don’t get pregnant after only one bedding. We should do it more often to ensure you become with child.” He whispered near your ear. You smiled, pulled his head back and kissed him.  

“We should, and when I do become with child, I can rest easy knowing they’ll be yours. Just as handsome and devoted as you.” You mumbled against his lips. He smiled at that, moved you on your side so he could have your back snug against him. You cuddled for as long as was possible, before you sadly had to retreat to your own chambers. Only a month later it was announced you were with child.

*hāedar = sister

[adoregojo]

secret admirer.

hihihihihihihihi, i cannot believe i actually slept for two days in a row? wth? and also that i never did this kind of posts? im such a lazy bum mb yall, I promise I'll write a real fic soon. summary: bllk characters as your secret admirers: isagi, bachira, chigiri, reo. how they fell, what do they do, how did they confess.

isagi.y

him. just him.

you once held his shirt collar to stop him from planting flatly on the floor.

and when you walked away, you walked with his heart in your palms.

yea, just like that

but honestly, isagi himself didn't knew he was such a big sap inside

and the moment he realised you two shared a few classes was the second he almost kneeled and thanked the sky itself for this.

an absolute swoon from looking at your side profile.

he once was long gone within the abyss of daydreaming about you, he genuinely just couldn't look away.

then got called out by the teacher for being too distracted.

definitely prayed that you didn't see that.

writes your name unintentionally in his notebook.

gets so embarrassed about it later and rips the paper.

still dose it again the next day and almost ripped the whole book apart form cringing at himself.

he once was musing over you too much to the point that your name slipped out unwittingly on the dinner table.

his parents couldn't stop teasing him about it, wondering when they would see you walking down their house door.

leaves love notes in your locker almost everyday.

it's something short and simple like: "you look pretty today."

then when he goes home he'll realize how dumb that was because you literally look the prettiest everyday.

dumb, dumby.

takes time to make the first move though.

he just feels like you're way, farther away from his reach.

it's okay, he still considers himself lucky to be one of those who got admire you.

he just hoped you saw him behind all of them, even if it was a glance.

chigiri.h

omgg pretty boyyy

despite chigiri being a confident and self-reliant, the trigger words of his old injury was like a pulling a pin of a grenade to his still-raw sorrowness. something that'll always haunt him.

and what dose he dare to say when they were nothing but truthful? like a salt to his wounds, he tends to just take it and suck it up, or at least try to ignore it for his sake.

but everything flipped when you stood up for him.

from that moment on. chigiri knew that he was far a goner.

out of everyone here he's definitely the most romantic one.

reads all your favourite books and analysis it.

probably named a cat after you.

like isagi he writes love letters for you.

just a little too poetic..

it it's short then it's something like: "loving you is like breathing." or "i hope your days are filled with the same joy you give me with your existence only."

but mostly is: "my definition of love, i see the true meaning of living behind your hue of life. you shall lighten my soul with your existence alone, i was born to see you shin each day, witnessing you is a blessing from heaven itself. the day that i stop seeing you as the owner of the stars is the day my body shall vanish, yet my soul will know it way back to you. from your only and one your admirer."

what a lovesick clown.

he might be a smooth talker on the outside, but trust me the butterflies of sentimental keeps on swirling in his stomach on the sight of you.

told his mother and sister about you.

it was his biggest regrets.

because the next day his sister shouted your name in a demand for you to spend the night for the 'meeting of the future in law'.

he had to physically drag her back to the car, freaking embarrassing.

couldn't meet your eyes for a while after that.

wants to hold your hand.

like, really badly.

it's just that feeling your skin against his cold, pristine hands must've feel like the loveliest, cosiest thing.

the thoughts alone are making him go crazy.

he confessed first, just couldn't help himself.

he just hoped if you would go to the end of the world alongside with him.

bachira.m

the sunshine boy himself.

the definition of fell first AND fell harder.

it all started when the class was ordered to work as duo for a project, something he always despised.

you may say that because bachira was definitely not having the word 'smart' in his book, you'd be right actually.

but mainly since no one really wanted to group up with him.

it was embarrassing, to just sit there and wait to be picked was putting him under the lights that pointed him out as the most pitiful creature in the room.

then you pocked him on the shoulder, and asked him if he wanted to be your partner.

and when he didn't see the sarcasm reeking from you, he knew he tripped hard, and couldn't find it anywhere in his feet to back him up.

it was strange, bachira never had a company, let alone a crush.

but the signs were there, and were painfully vulnerable.

painted you in art class multiple times; you with a smile, you reading a book, you sniffing a sunflower.

maybe also you and him... holding hands or hugging...

stares at your face a way, way too long.

he tells himself it's to crave your features better and detailed.

even he doesn't believe that however.

he draws your eyes a lot.

his second favourite colour is your eyes hue.

he was never the best at writing romantic poems, and his hand writing is just........

so he insisted gets you a gift!

which is a rock.

yes you heard me, rock.

he would even paint a little face with a smile on it and leave it on your desk by the end of the day.

almost went bald from joy when you had it hanging as a small march on your bag.

and when you had a bad day, that goes unnoticed by him.

so imagine your surprise when you would find two pairs of rocks, one kissing the other who had a sad expression on it face.

that somehow that foster a blissful smile on your face. like that little action extinct any remains of the past negative you carried.

and bachira was more than happy to be the reason for your happiness.

definitely rambles about you to his mom.

and his monster.

he once ha a dream about you two smooching.

cried when he woke up because he wanted it to be real more than anything.

you two confessed first, at the same time.

and boy was he dancing on cloud nine at it.

he almost smooch you that moment and then.

reo.m

it's mister perfect everyone, cheer.

you fell first, he fell harder.

no, literally. you fell. tripped flat on the floor.

and somehow, that made the reo mikage heart move.

?????????

love at first (fall??) sight.

he definitely leaves a trail of gifts for you everywhere.

your chair, desk, locker, bag.

he switches between chocolate and flowers to letters and perfumes, necklaces, etc..

you say how he picked them?

easy, see something that reminds him of you, he buys.

and it's pretty foolish since he sees you in almost everything.

reo is convinced that you're within everything that shins beautifully.

he actually paid the teachers to let him be in the same classroom as you.

paid even more to get a seat next to you.

rip to whoever was sitting next to you.

he once heard that a guy was bothering you.

the next day the guy was the talking of school because he suddenly moved out of town due to his dad losing his job.

hm, must be karma then.

has a shrine of you.

but you didn't hear that from me.

talks about you none stop to nagi and ba-ya.

genuinely sobbed when he imagined you with someone else.

has a flight under your name.

made a makeshift doll of you so he can practice his confessions on.

had a mental breakdown of the idea of you rejecting him.

reo can the most horrible, miserable day to a human kind to live.

then he sees you smiling

BOOM

he's all happy and smiling again, also a little giddy.

you once greeted him good morning, the next day he was planing what ring would suit you the most.

had two planes to write on the sky: 'will you go out with me?' and your name next to it in a shade of a heart.

now, you definitely cannot reject that. (Please don't)

have a nice day everyone.