#how many candles can he take from a room before someone notices?

[damn-stark]

Chapter 30 No woman no cry

Chapter 30 of Moonlight

A/N- Sweaty eyes that’s all it is :)

Warning- talks of pregnancy and labor, ANGST!!, swearing, violence, fire, blood, and DEATH. SPOILERS!! FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD, USING FIRE AND BLOOD, long chapter.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode/Pages- 520-534

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

There exists a serene silence where only your soft breaths, and the sound of waves rolling over the sand fill whatever room you are in.

A much crueler chill seems to be your companion, but a light feathered touch of warmth does seem to exist dancing over your face and it makes you squint as your eyes flutter open.

Yet as gentle as that touch is on your face, when you open your eyes a stinging pain hits you as the sun burns your eyes before you give them relief as you shield them from the beaming sunlight.

“Cregan?” You call out softly and then groan as a sharp wave of pain hits your head and your chest, reminding you at that moment of the injuries you sustained and put you in a state of limbo, and now on this bed and in this…stone chamber?

Did they take the keep at Tumbleton? Is this where you are?

“Ser Cane?” You call out next since Cregan is probably attending to other matters.

However, your sworn protector doesn’t respond by walking in or speaking. There’s a continued silence where only the sound of distant waves lingers in your chambers. Which is why you sit up and only get welcomed with a pounding headache.

“Damn,” you hiss and lift your hand to hover your palm over where it hurts, feeling at that moment bandages wrapped around your head before you finally feel the bandages around your chest.

“Ser Cane?” You call out and glance at the end table to search for water, but alas there’s not even a candle. “Ser Cane?”

You drag yourself to the edge of the bed and notice your gown before you notice that someone took the time to clean all the blood off your hands.

It must’ve been Cregan. He must be so worried.

“Ser Cane?” You call out one more time and drop your hand on your belly which seems to be lower than usual, which means the twins should be coming soon.

“Add—” you cut yourself off as you remember that Addam won’t be able to respond to your calls anymore because he’s…dead…

You sigh and rub your eyes before you lift your head and avoid crying, but also finally come to recognize where you are. You try to deny it. You must be dreaming—You can’t be in your chambers at Dragonstone.

How could you be at them?

This must be a dream! You still must be in limbo, you can’t be here—unless your mother is here? How many days have passed since the second battle at Tumbleton?

Were you really unconscious for so long that you arrived at Dragonstone without knowing?

“Ser Cane?” You call out with panic and desperation replacing your patience and grogginess, and proceed to slip on some slippers before you push yourself off the bed and rush to the door.

Albeit when you try to open the door, you can’t, it seems to be locked.

“Ser Cane?” You call out. “Hello? Who is out there? Please open the door.”

You press your ear against the door and drift your eyes to the floor, catching shadows move, and hearing feet shuffle before you start to hear them recede.

“Hello?” You call out louder and with desperation rising. “Can you open the door and tell Cregan or The Queen to come? Please.”

You try to open the door, but again you’re met by the fact that it’s locked, so you have the urge to turn to the balcony to find a way out through there, but then the thought of why sets in.

Why should you find a way out? This is your home and your mother must be here. You don’t have to worry. You’ll be fine, the door is just locked for precaution. After all, your mother is being paranoid about not knowing who to trust, so the door is locked for your own safety.

“Okay,” you sigh and turn away with your hands clasped before you go to your wardrobe and change out of the gown, finding comfort in a purple and gold gown that has the skirts layers shaped like fins on a seahorse, and a golden corset decorated with beautiful designs made of sheets of gold.

It’s truly an impressive gown, and one you know Cregan will drool over, so you feel even more giddy wearing it—which reminds you of the wolf brooch Cregan gave you.

However, when you search for it you can’t find it amongst your things or on any surface. Maybe it fell off during battle or some moment thereafter?

You’ll have to ask, and if you did lose it then you’ll ask Cregan to give you a ring with the sigil on it, or a nice pendant. It’ll be easier to wear it then.

Nonetheless, you sit on the edge of the bed and look out of the window to bask in the sun's warmth, finding comfort in the sound of waves.

Besides, all the bad that’s happened as of late, you still find comfort in the sound of the sea, and it brings you joy to know you’re close. Being in those Wetlands for as long as you were was starting to make you feel as gloomy as a rainy day.

If only it was summer, you would be out lying on the sand or in the water. Alas, it’s winter and the water would surely make you freeze to death.

Shame.

Nevertheless, while you’re soaking in the sunbeams, keys finally jingle outside of your door before you hear the lock click and a knock proceed to a rap on your door.

“Come in,” you greet the visitor and stand from the bed to walk toward the door.

However, as the door opens and you get close, you come to an immediate stop when your eyes fall on a man you thought was long gone—Lord Larys Strong.

“Wh-“ you gasp and step back as you quickly scan the room in search of your sword. When you don’t find it you take a step back and tilt your head down to glower at him.

“Princess,” Lord Larys greets and bows his head, making your pinched eyebrows twitch as they crease deeper in your silence.

“I am so very glad you have awoken and seem to take well to your current injuries. The servants weren’t sure if you would wake.”

Servants?

“Where’s my mother?” You deadpan and start to also think about your dragon and whether she brought you here out of instinct, or they found you—Then again Cregan was so close when you last saw him on that battlefield, how did you end up here?

“Oh,” Lord Larys mouths before he gently shakes his head. “I am not sure. I heard she escaped Kings Landing after a riot. What a shame, she lost the most special gem just as she had it in her possession.”

If he doesn’t know then—

No, it can’t be!

“Where’s my dragon? How did you find me?”

Is Cregan here?

“Your dragon,” Larys says and glances outside and watches a bird fly past the balcony window. “She dropped you off in the sand. One of the guards saw you and went to your rescue. They tried to capture your dragon, but she eluded capture and flew back where she had come from.”

You blink with surprise yet find yourself letting out a relieved sigh because she’s not in the clutches of the enemy.

“Dragons truly are marvelous beasts,” he rambles and meets your gaze. “She must have thought you would be safe here, but, alas,” he sighs and flashes you a smirk. A smirk! Out of all things he smirks at you because he knows you don’t have the upper hand now.

What a little cunt.

“…it was too late when she tried to take you back,” he whispers before he digs in his pocket and pulls something out—“His Grace is ready for his audience with you,” he reveals what you had been trying to deny. Aegon is here. Aegon is still alive. He didn’t die in some ditch like you had hoped. The little bastard is still alive! And your mother…she must not know or else she would have not left Kings Landing. Damn it! Damn it!

“You had this with you when we found you,” Larys says and opens his hand to show you the wolf brooch Cregan had given you.

“I thought you would want it back.”

You continue to pierce your glare into him for a moment longer before you look at the brooch and slowly walk toward him to snatch it from his grasp.

“Are you ready?” He makes sure to ask, making you scoff.

“Do I even have an option?” You quip and he doesn’t answer you, instead, he turns and leads the way out. With no other choice you drag your feet after him and follow him all the way to the main hall where whether you like it or not, your breath catches when you see Aegon.

He sits at the other end of the hall on a wooden chair with wheels, a blanket over his legs, and a dull yet narrowed look that does reflect a glimmer when he sees you walk past the doors and stop just under the beam of sun that shines in the hall.

“You stand in the presence of King Aegon of House Targaryen, the Second of His Name, Rightful King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. And Rightful Protector of the Seven Kingdoms.” A guard announces loudly near your ear, making your glower even more fierce.

“You’ve awoken!” Aegon interjects loudly so his voice travels down the hall. “I’m glad.”

You draw out a deep breath and continue to trudge forward, but never with your head down. You keep your head high and your nose pointed to the air. When you get close that’s all you do, get close, you never close the gap to the point you can hear each other's whispers. You stay under the sunbeam that reflects through the windows on the high ceilings and scowl.

“You,” you mutter and look at him up and down (which doesn’t take long as he’s seated on that wooden chair), and notice that he seems to sport more burn scars than before, and his legs that he keeps under a blanket are bent in a pretty uncomfortable manner. “…look more awful than before,” you say bluntly and catch his lips twitching to a frown.

However, a sinister look then makes his dull eyes glimmer.

“I recently got into a dragon battle with your cousin…Rhaena—no,” he chuckles and his malice then shows on his lips that slowly curl to a smirk as he sees your eyes lose the sun’s twinkling glow as your head slowly falls with your demeanor. “Baela,” he huffs. “Her dragon is dead and she is in a dungeon knowing what it feels like to burn.”

You blink repeatedly in disbelief and feel your breath catch as your heart skips a beat in your worry. Only making Aegon that more cocky.

“And you,” you mutter and slowly drag your eyes up with a fire slowly burning within them. “Did you burn again? It looks like it. You look even more horrifying to look at. At least Baela will have a menacing charm to her, but you,” you click your tongue and force a snicker before you suck in your cheeks to gather a ball of spit and hurl it at his feet.

Aegon’s eyes quickly fall on your ball of spit and his lips curl while his nose scrunches in disgust as well as frustration.

A guard standing nearby lunges forward and from the corner of your eyes you see him lift his hand in reaction to your “disrespect”.

Albeit Aegon then lifts his hand to motion the guard to stop, and he immediately does so before he can swing his hand over your face.

“As traitorous and disrespectful as she may be, she is still your Princess, and carrying my brother's children,” Aegon says and catches you by surprise, but still not enough to warrant a thanks or any kind of reaction.

“What do you want, Aegon?” You press impatiently.

Said man scoffs as he looks away from the guard and then sighs deeply before he gives you a response. “I wanted to see you and make sure you were okay. It seems you sustained quite a few concerning injuries, so I was just making sure you were okay.”

You huff and he slowly lolls his head to the side.

“I also do have a proposal,” he adds and piques your interest. “After the twins are born you are of no use to me, so I will kill you alongside your mother and your brother, and keep my brother's children so my mother can raise them, and Aerion can be my heir. But you,” he pauses and clicks his tongue to mock you.

“However, you may keep your life if and only if you marry me,” he throws out a rather daring offer. One that shouldn’t have surprised you as much as it did, but it did because it’s quite ballsy.

“You will be Queen, and we will show the realm that we are a united front. There will be peace—or so Larys says,” he mutters and glances at the man before looking back at you with a mischievous look in his eyes.

“No,” you deadpan before you flash him a mischievous smirk. “I am betrothed to Lord Cregan Stark,” you announce, making Lord Larys shift where he stands, and causing Aegon to lose that stupid mischievous look and instead make his face harden.

“Very well,” he grumbles and sits up straight. “So you chose death. I did not want to marry you anyway.”

“Your Grace,” Lord Larys interjects. “With the Princess betrothed to Lord Stark it will not be wise killing her, nor marrying her now. Whichever choice you go with would lead Lord Stark and his army to retaliate and possibly add more fuel to a war you want to end.”

Your smirk deepens as your invincibility is now revealed, leaving him with you as a hostage, but still unable to kill you or touch you in any way.

“So I hold you, hostage, have him bend the knee, swear his loyalty, and give his army to me,” Aegon is quick to come up with an alternative you had already started to think about before he could even form the first thought. “Thank you. You have now turned your mother's greatest ally against her.”

You don’t falter or show weakness because you know Cregan. He won’t fall under pressure, he will keep fighting because no matter what, you will be protected because of him.

Aegon doesn’t realize all of that, but he sees your smirk and his face only twists with more frustration.

“Take her and bring her back when her mother arrives to shore. She can watch her die instead.”

This time your face falls. He hits you right in your weak spot and he knows it because he counters the fear that paints your face with cockiness that he displays on his face the moment you’re walked out of the room as if showing you he had the last laugh.

——

*SOMETIME LATER*

How? How?

Without Astraea how can you leave this damned place to save your mother?

There’s no candle lit to burn the door down. There’s not even a fire in your fireplace and that’s probably due to the fact that Aegon doesn’t want you to use fire against him. And without any weapons how can you get out?

You pace in your chambers watching the moon rise and slowly spin around the earth as time passes bit by bit without any kind of nudge on what to do.

Escaping out the window is impossible, there's nothing to grab onto and it’s too high off the ground to jump…

Then again even if you find a way out how do you find her? You know she’s heading to Dragonstone, but from which way?

Then again why should that truly matter in the grand scheme of things? You need to save her one way or another and you’ll scour the earth to find her to keep her away from here. Even if it means…having to give your own life.

Yet what do you do?

You let out a frustrated breath and throw yourself on your bed, feeling at that moment the twins starting to move inside you.

“Yes I should sleep, but I need to…” you trail off and sit up whilst you press your hand on your belly. “Thank you,” you whisper down toward your belly before you run over to grab your goblet of water, and return to the side of the bed to spill the water on the ground. After that, you hide the goblet under the bed and sit back down to press your hands on your legs, and lean down to start crying out in pain.

“Help…” you feign pain to grab the attention of the guards outside. “I need help!” You yell out and moan as if you were in labor. “Please!” You bellow and let out another sharp cry.

When you go quiet for a second you strain your ear and hear the guards shuffling behind your door, so you yell again. “Please! I need help!”

The lock clicks before the door flies open and two guards rush in with panicked wide-eyed looks on their faces.

“Princess?” They call out cautiously as if you were something they were frightened of.

“The twins,” you say between pants as you clutch onto your belly. “I think they’re coming,” you lie and glance up, catching them looking at each other helplessly, which only excites you more.

“Get the maester or anyone who can help me!” You sneer before you cry out again to stress them out further.

“Okay—okay,” one guard breathes out as if he’s the one going to give birth. “We’ll be right back!”

Your eyes widen out of panic and before they can leave you throw your head up and blurt. “Can one of you stay? I don’t want to be alone.”

You bat your eyelashes and take quick and heavy breaths to feign being in distress and get them to pity you, because if they both leave then they’ll lock the door again, and you can’t let them bring the help you say you need or else you won’t be able to get out. Thus you feign innocence.

And luckily they believe you. One guard stays while the other one leaves, but you don’t stop pretending. You keep letting out fake sounds of pain to let the guard that left your chambers put some good distance between here and there, whilst also mentally laughing at the guard who stayed as he seems extremely uncomfortable by staying with you while you’re “in labor”.

“Could,” you pause and pant. “Could you please bring me some water?”

The guard avoids eye contact and nods stiffly before he turns and starts to walk away toward your pitcher of water. And it’s when he’s giving you his back that you swipe one of your shoes with a pointed heel off the ground, and push yourself to your feet without any struggle whatsoever.

You then stretch your neck from side to side after having it hanging for so long before you proceed to quietly stalk after him with an almost predatory glare burning through the back of his neck, and a wicked smirk curling on your lip. And luckily the guard is so caught up in his own discomfort and disgust that he keeps his attention locked on the pitcher across the room—he doesn’t even notice that you stopped complaining.

He doesn’t hear you walking toward him, nor does he feel any kind of burning on the back of his neck. He keeps his back facing you so when you finally catch up to him you raise the heel in your hand and swing down hard to dig the tip of the heel in his neck.

The man tries to yell out, but with the heel impaled on the side of his neck, all he does is gurgle and slowly turn around to face you.

“<Idiot.>” You remark in Valyrian before you mock his choking noises and snicker before you take his sword and give him the mercy of death by impaling his throat.

When he hits the ground you take your shoe out of his neck and then walk back to the side of the bed to grab the other shoe and quickly slide them on before you walk to the door.

Once you see that the ghost is clear you turn down the opposite hall the other guard took and instead try to escape through the side of the castle that leads to the hills that sit beside your home.

You don’t try to be too fast so as to be careful and stay discreet, but you also try not to be too slow and risk getting caught by someone. This was once your home, this castle was run by your mother, and the servants and guards were all loyal to your mother and your family, but since Aegon is here and spreading fear you don’t know if they can be trusted, so you stay in the shadows while also listening out for any potential danger.

You’re so focused on not being caught in fact that when you hear the echoes of the heels of someone’s shoes hitting the ground you fail to locate exactly where it’s coming from. You just quickly try to slip around a corner to hide, but that’s when you bump into a servant.

“Princess,” the servant woman gasps at the same time you let out a startled breath of air. She then looks down at your bloody hands for a second before bouncing her gaze to the bloody sword in your hand, and then lastly to your face, catching your surprise slowly starting to slip away and be replaced by something cold and threatening.

“You—”

“Not that way,” the servant cuts you off just as you were going to threaten her so you didn’t have to kill her. “Follow me you can take the servant corridors,” she reveals and then snatches your hand from your side to pull you with her down the corridor.

“You will take the stairs all the way down until you reach the caves. After that follow the lights all the way out to the loading docks. You will find a small ship there. You use it and leave.” She presses as she digs her fingers on the back of your hand.

“Okay, okay,” you say breathlessly as you follow her at her pace to not slip from her grasp and fall behind. “But…why risk your life? Aegon will have you killed when he finds out you helped me.”

The servant woman peers back and with a twinkle in her eyes, she shakes her head. “I would die for my Queen. I serve only her. Therefore I serve you.”

You blink repeatedly in disbelief and when you see that she’s not being deceitful you offer her a small but proud smile. “Thank you then,” you offer and wish you could do more but that’s all you can give her. Your gratitude. “My friend.”

The lady offers you a small nod before she looks ahead and quickens her pace to drag you with her down corridor after corridor until you reach a secret door that she opens for you.

“Through there, my Princess,” the servant lets you know as she points to the corridor that leads to a spiral staircase. “That will take you down.”

You glance at your escape and then look back at her with a worried look peeking through. “Okay,” you breathe out. “Thank you once again and be safe,” you offer her one more time whilst she hands you a torch from the wall.

“I would do it again,” she says softly, making your breath hitch and a soft smile flash on your lips that you offer her before you turn around swiftly and walk in the passageway.

Once the servant closes the door behind you, you then turn to look down and try to locate your exit, but as you look down the long spiral staircase you gulp as all you see is a dark abyss that only grows deeper the longer you stare at it.

“Okay,” you say as you draw out a deep breath. “Here we go.”

You glance back at the door one more time and draw in another deep breath. This time though you gain confidence and a drive that makes your heart skip a beat. All because of the servant woman who risked her life to give you a chance to escape.

There was no question or bargaining. She risked her life for you, and you won’t waste it. You will reach that boat and find your mother to prevent her from reaching Dragonstone to save her and the rest of your family that she’s clinging onto.

You won’t fail her. Not today.

Thus with those thoughts running through your head, a spike of energy travels through your blood and hits your heart, making it jolt before it starts to race as you grow eager and determined beyond measure.

Now you know you shouldn’t go past any pace beyond a walk down the wooden staircase, but you don’t care. You could break through a wooden step, skip one in particular, or almost trip and you wouldn't care. All that occupies your mind is saving your mother, so you run and run as fast as you can down the stairs.

It’s true you run out of breath fast, so you’re heaving and panting before you can even get halfway, but you don’t care. You keep pressing as all you see is her. Her eyes. Her soft golden-silver hair. Her pain, grief, and tears. Her joy and her smile. And every single memory you have stored inside your head.

You see her. The one you cherish above all else, even life itself, and all you can do is run.

When you reach the cave, there’s no light; not even on the walls. There’s darkness and the sound of rain—which by the way, when did it start raining? Has it been raining all night? You’ve been so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t notice.

Regardless, you hear the sound of the rain as it falls outside and brings darkness, but not discouragement because with your torch you can make out the path that leads outside and that’s enough to know that you’re closer to your destination now. You won’t reach the end until you reach your mother, but you’re close and that thought makes you take a deep breath and start moving your legs again.

At the very first second, you don’t start off fast. You take some time to pick up speed considering what’s weighing you down and the exhaustion that brings you, but you push through it. Even if the flames on the torch die out you keep going. Even if your lungs hurt. Even if your legs and every muscle in your body scream to stop, you continue pushing forward. You speed walk before you jog, and jog before you run and run and run down that cave until the weight of heavy rain falls over you and a dim natural light bombards your eyes.

“Okay, okay,” you say between pants and squint your eyes to strain your vision so you can look through the cover of night and the shadows that the rain clouds bring.

At first, as you panic through your exhaustion, you can’t make out any boat. It terrifies you because that would bring a setback, but alas, you see the boat the servant told you about and you don’t linger back any longer. You quickly make your way to the boat and carefully climb onboard.

The waves are calmer thanks to the rain, but that does mean you have to fucking row the boat to move. And you’re already under so much strain! But you…push through and manage to get away from the dock and direct yourself to the mainland.

You can figure out where to go from there. As for now maybe you can catch your breath…

Breathe…as you row.

Breathe.

Breathe.

You close your eyes and relax your body.

Breathe.

Alas, when you’ve put some distance between you and the dock, you come across the harbor just below the Dragonmont and notice a strange Braavosi ship called the “Violande”.

Is it Aegon’s ship, you wonder at first before it hits you that it's your mother's ship when you see a Queensguard disembarking the ship—That’s where your mother came on.

That’s her!

“No, no,” you whisper and hastily stand at your feet.

If you row to the harbor you’ll take forever to get there. Without the help of the wind, you have no support.

You have to swim. No thought about it!

With that, in the front of your mind, you drop the sword on the boat and then dive into the cold water, and gasp loudly when you resurface like a bobbing apple as the cold water feels like falling in cold and wet piles of snow.

The cold embrace makes you want to find a way back on the boat, but you have to swim and keep pushing forward.

So you do. With that same adrenaline picking up in your veins you push forward. You don’t think about the possibility of your mother already reaching the gates. You can’t or else you’ll panic and be discouraged, so once again you think about reaching her, and that’s like a triple shot of adrenaline that helps you swim as fast as your body can muster.

Once you finally get out of the cold icy water you draw in a deep shaky breath and feel the bitterness nip at your skin, threatening to drive you someplace warm, but you turn toward Dragonstone, the place you had managed to escape, and run.

The breeze that runs past you drives some water drops off your body, but then sheets of rain just pile on, making you feel like you’re getting slapped in the face again and again. And it hurts. It hurts so much, and the clothes on your back are so heavy now that it makes everything worse. You even start to cry, but you keep running.

You keep pressing forward. For your mother! For your brother, Aegon! For your son, Aerion! And everyone you lost so your mother could win this war! You run and run!

Until finally like a glorious light you see her in between the group she came with and the large host that greeted her. A host loyal to Aegon…

“Mother!” You bellow through the rain, making the party stop in their tracks, and making the woman you called out to turn and find your eyes.

Even though it’s pouring and that obscures your vision you find each other, and you reflect the panic on your face before you yell again. “Mother! Flee!”

You don’t stop there, you can’t. Words are not enough, so you start running again. You break through barriers of space to reach her and try to get her out of there. You’re so close. With every step you take on that wet ground, you get closer to her, whilst she steps away from her spot and starts to part the crowd as she attempts to meet up with you halfway out of concern.

Alas before you can reach her, before you get close to getting her out, a body slams into you, and arms hurl around you to bring you to a sudden stop.

As you look over you notice that it was one of the many guards that were probably sent to welcome your mother.

The man is a traitor and loyal to Aegon, but you don’t need to share that with your mother because the moment you were caught and your eyes fell on the guard, chaos was unleashed.

Some men from the host that were meant to greet your mother, turn around and swing their swords at the Queensguard.

You don’t watch the battle though, you know that three Queensguards cannot compete against a host of forty men strong; no matter how skilled they are. That’s why you slap your hand on the man who has you captive and dig your nails into his face to drag them down, causing him to yelp out and let go of you to hold his face and stumble away.

“Mother!” You call out and move your legs toward her with one goal in mind; getting her away.

Luckily she sees that goal clearly painted in your eyes because she shares that same dire goal, so she yells out your name and while her men are fighting and falling, she motions her handmaidens and Vanessa to follow her to try and reach you. After all, Ser Jason is with her. He could help her strike down anyone trying to stop her. He could be the very person who could help you escape Dragonstone and live another day.

However, while your mother and you are focused on reaching one another, you fail to see his conflict brewing within him.

It’s true there should be no doubt running in his mind. Ser Cane Clegane would have not thought twice about trying to help the Queen, your son, Aegon, and you escape. He would given his life for you, but no matter how hard Ser Jason is trying to be that way. No matter how hard he’s tried to change his cowardly ways; seeing two men take out two Queensguard, and seeing the only Queensgaurd knight left kill two men before dying suit gives Ser Jason no motive.

The Bastard Knight sees that there’s no possible way to find an escape. He sees men coming after him too after having killed the Queensguard, and he can’t be everything his father was. He was not even half the man Prince Daemon Targaryen was, so Ser Jason raises his sword and steps forward to get in between you and your mother, leading you to believe that he is finally stepping up to aid in your escape. Yet The Bastard Knight then turns on his heels and points the sword to your belly, causing you to come to a skidding stop, and forcing your mother to stop out of fear he’d hurt you and her unborn grandchildren.

“What?” You ask breathlessly as you’re hit with disbelief and look at him with your lips parted, and your eyes slowly widening in shock and filling to the brim with tears of betrayal.

“Take another step and I will impale her,” Ser Jason threatens as he averts your gaze and looks over at your mother slowly contorting her face to show her anger and nothing else.

“Traitorous cunt,” she sneers and glares at him with a pointed glare whilst the host of guards start to surround you, closing the last gap to escape and returning you to Aegon’s grasp once again.

“Mother,” you call out in a broken voice, and immediately gain her attention and look that breaks away from her anger to display a softness—“Forgive me. I—”

Before you can finish, men grab your mother's arms and forcefully turn her away, forcing your next words to go unspoken and unheard.

“Walk, Your Grace,” the men spat at her mockingly.

“You picked the right choice, son,” Ser Alfred Broome praises Ser Jason. “Nevertheless, you understand why we have to take your sword? Just for now of course.”

Ser Jason glances at you with a hint of panic in his eyes, but you refuse to look at him anymore. You rip your eyes away and instead let your eyes fall on your greatest friend and handmaiden, Vanessa.

She also finds you amid the chaos and pushes your son, Aerion, in the air so you can see him and see that he’s bigger, but okay and unaware of what’s transcending—perhaps that’s the best gift an infant has, being able to be unaware of the chaos that brings adults and older children so much painful distress.

When he’s older and you ask him what he remembers he will most likely say nothing. He probably won’t remember his father or how much he loved him, he’ll only know him by the words that come out of your mouth, and that’s all. He probably won’t remember a thing of his life past a certain age and you’re thankful for that. Can you say the same for your brother Aegon?

It’s hard to say. He’s young but is he old enough to cling onto some of the worst memories of his life?

It’s hard to tell. If he lives, only time will tell.

Until then what other option do you have now but to let yourself be dragged back to the castle and past the rotting bodies of Maester Gerardys, and Ser Robert Quince hanging from the battlements of the gatehouse?

Seeing their dead bodies only worked to clarify that this was not some nightmare your mother could wake from. This is real, she got betrayed at her own ancestral home and now you, her son Aegon, her grandchild Aerion, and her are getting dragged toward the castle by traitors all loyal to none other than the slippery cockroach that is her half-brother Aegon. There’s no doubt about it because all the family that was against her is already dead except for him.

And that assumption only gets proven true when you reach the castle ward and come face to face with Aegon on a balcony unable to stand up or move. He’s bound to the same wooden chair as before and he carries the same dull look in his eyes that do welcome a sinister gleam once he sets his eyes on none other than his greatest foe and eldest sister, your mother, Rhaenyra, for the first time in a long time.

“Sister,” Aegon calls coldly, but with a hint of cockiness as he now has all the control and all the power over her that he didn’t have before.

Nevertheless, when your mother looks away from Sunfyre lying on the ground of the courtyard, she never shows defeat. She raises her head and points her nose in the air just like you tend to do before responding coldly and spitefully.

“Dear Brother, I had hoped that you were dead.”

Aegon scoffs. “After you,” he says with a twitch on the corner of his lips. “You are the elder.”

Your mother huffs, feigning some humor before she rebuttals. “I am pleased to know that you remember that.”

Aegon answers with silence and then turns his attention to you and his eyes glimmer, but not with a hint of malice, but smugness. “Back again? Here I thought you were smart. That’s all people say,” he mutters and rolls his eyes. “What an incredible hero The Blood Dragon is.” He scoffs. “If they could see their Blood Dragon now.”

He shoots you a smirk and you just raise your chin and glance over at his dragon Sunfyre to note that he is not even half the dragon he used to be. He now sports new raw scars that accompany the old ones, and one of his wings sticks out at a weird angle. He only has his beauty intact, but what is that worth?

Nothing, you know that and Aegon knows that too, so you look at his dragon with a teasing smirk and then look back at Aegon so he knows that you think less of him and his broken dragon.

And when he sees your reaction his smirk falls, letting your mother slip in to interject loudly and with a ferocity that cannot be diminished. “It would seem we are your prisoners…but do not think that you will hold us long. My leal lords will find us.”

“If they search the seven hells, mayhaps,” Aegon mutters before he drags his eyes away and offers a small nod that sends men after you to keep you where you are, but makes men pull your mother, her handmaidens, and your brother to the side, while Vanessa and Aerion are dragged toward him.

“Aegon,” you now call with a shift in your tone. Rather than trying to sound unaffected, you sound desperate. “Aegon, please,” you beg even though you know his plans for your children.

“Shut up,” he throws out. “You know what will happen to him. He’s now my heir so I will keep him by my side until I return to King’s Landing, while you…” he trails off and leans forward in his seat as best as his broken body can let him.

“I thought about it,” he continues and slowly drifts his eyes to your mother. “I do not care that you are betrothed to Cregan Stark. How will he know that you did not die due to your wounds from battle, hm?”

You blink in disbelief while a horrified breath escapes you. All while your mother's face loses all its color. The defiance she proudly held falls without a fight, and she shows an agonizing fear only a mother about to lose their child knows.

“Ser Alfred,” Aegon calls out, and the man that was called stomps toward you, causing the man holding you in place to force you to your knees.

“Move boy,” Ser Alfred tells Ser Jason, but you don’t see his hesitation as he starts to realize what’s about to happen because you realize the cold truth; you’re about to die, and you don’t want to die. Not like this, not yet. You want to meet your twins, you want to raise your children. You want to live…

You don’t want to die…

“Mama,” your voice quivers as you call out to her helplessly.

And even though she was hurt and angry that you had left her again to chase after Aemond, that grudge is long forgotten. It was long forgotten the moment she saw you try and come to her rescue like a warrior only heard about in stories of past heroes. Besides, how can she be angry while you look at her like a helpless little girl searching for her mother's consolation and help?

“Aegon,” she cries out desperately before Ser Alfred can get his sword out of his sheath, and tries to press forward, but she’s yanked back by the guards. “Please…please, don’t hurt her. Please,” she begs on behalf of not just her child, but her firstborn. The child she let sleep on her bed even against the wetnurses and handmaidens’ wishes because you were such a sick child, and the only way Rhaenyra could sleep at night was to have you next to her to hear you breathe and help the moment you needed it.

“She’s my daughter. My only daughter,” she tries to argue in her defense while also trying to touch any inkling of his heart. “She’s my firstborn, she’s mine,” her voice cracks as what’s left of her withered heart aches for you, for the life of the only companion she had while her father was getting sick, Laenor was mourning his lost love, and Alicent relentlessly bullied her and alienated her in her own home.

“Please,” Rhaenyra begs with tears slipping past her eyes. “Let her go. Let her live, and if you do, we will leave. I swear. We will run and never come back. We won’t raise any swords against you and we will never turn Astraea on you. You will rule for the rest of your life without any resistance from me. Just please let my girl live, please,” she cries for the only daughter she ever had. Her pride and joy, and the child that turned her into a mother only a year after her wedding to Laenor.

She begs with all her heart. She begs desperately and like never before because she needs you to live.

“Ser Alfred,” Aegon presses as he holds his sister's pleading gaze, causing her to snap her eyes to you whilst you start to weep, but also keep your head held high.

“<I love you,>,” you tell her in Valyrian and offer her a wobbly smile that makes her cry out.

“Aegon!”

The sword that was getting brought to your throat stops, but you still wait for the sharp blade.

Alas, it doesn’t come, so you look over at Aegon and he has his hand in the air to motion Ser Alfred to stop and let the guards let you go and fall on your hands.

Ser Jason immediately comes to your aide, but you refuse his help by pushing him away.

“Take her,” Aegon orders, and once again the guards grab your arms to pull you to your feet and drag you to where your mother is.

“Mother,” you whisper out weakly and she examines you but only for a brief moment because guards then drag her away.

“Mother!” You call out as if that would stop them.

“I just wanted to see the great Rhaenyra look defeated first,” Aegon muses. “You will die now because there's no way I would let you go. Do you think I believe you and your promises? No. Fuck that,” he spats. “We can’t both live, sister. It has to be you.”

Your tears dry from your eyes as they almost bulge out with your utter disbelief.

“No,” you whisper a broken whisper and watch in horror as they drag your mother toward the broken Sunfyre. The dragon you had only moments ago looked down upon.

“No,” you whisper again and examine the scene, realizing that Aegon is going to use Sunfyre to kill your mother. Not a sword, a dragon. Fire you can save her from…

Thus with a spike of adrenaline, you yank yourself away from the clutches of the guards holding you captive and run with the purpose of saving your mother. The one you cherish the most. The only reminder you have left of your old life, your brothers, your father, and everything good; all the light in this world, all the warmth, and all the love and mercy.

“Mother!” You call for attention so she knows you’re coming to her rescue and throw your hand out even though there’s still some distance between her and you.

Nevertheless, reaching her and saving her could only be left as a beautiful dream because before you can reach her and as you reach the middle of that courtyard, Ser Jason tackles you to stop you, letting the guards catch up and pull you from his grasp to forcefully shove you to ground so you wouldn’t try to run again and make them look bad in front of the King.

In doing so though they slam your belly and hit your head on the ground—Not hard, but they did hit the spot where that arrow scraped you, so the wound opens and warm blood begins to ooze out.

“Let me go!” You bellow without caring about the fact that you were just hurt. “LET ME GO!” You growl and squirm. “Aegon! Mother! Mother!”

Said woman is left there before the broken dragon, and Aegon utters the word. “Dracarys.”

You squirm harder, but the guards keep you pressed against the ground.

“NO! PLEASE! MAMA!” You cry out desperately and sharply, feeling tears run down your face as they leave your eyes. “AEGON!”

Albeit even if Sunfyre gets closer to your mother, he doesn’t seem to find interest in burning her to eat her. He sniffs her but doesn’t open his jaws, giving you a false sense of hope.

But you should have known better because as you held your breath and thought your mother would be spared because of the dragon's defiance, Ser Alfred stomps to your mother and nicks her breast with the tip of his sword.

This time Sunfyre begins to sniff your mother as his eyes go dark, making you realize what’s going to happen.

“AEGON PLEASE!” You plead with all your will and all your strength for some sliver of hope that you could gain his mercy. “Please don’t do this! Please!” You cry and beg at the same time as you thrash around like helpless prey caught under a trap. “Please!” You bellow out your plea for the first person you ever loved. For the person keeping your hope and will alive.

“The time for pleading is over,” Aegon mutters and then continues to repeat the same command. “Dracarys.”

This time Sunfyre starts to open his mouth as he builds up fire in the back of his mouth.

“Mother! Mama!”

Said woman turns her head and looks you in the eyes with tears welled in her eyes and a small smile only meant for you and you alone. “<I love you,>” she redirects those last words you had given her when you thought you would die.

“Mama!” You mewl out and throw your head back to try and hit the guard pinning you down. “Please!”

Alas, Sunfyre spits out a ball of fire as your mother points her head to the sky and shrieks one last curse before she’s bathed in fire, and then torn apart by Sunfyre’s jaw, robbing her of her life in an instant, and leaving you stunned on the ground in your numbing disbelief that leaves you speechless and robbed of breath.

Your brother Aegon begins to cry, but he sounds so distant that it almost sounds like some illusion coming from your mind.

The flames still dancing on the ground slowly lose their bright color way before it completely dies out, and the coldness nipping at your skin is forgotten; not because the first sunbeams of the new day break out of the horizon and reflect through the window behind you, embracing your back with its gentle touch and almost making it look like a glorious crown around your head. No, it wasn’t that. It isn't even the warm trickles of blood that leak from your head wound and roll down your cheek, no. The coldness didn’t hurt because you were numb to it.

As your eyes stay on the blood that spills from your mother's corpse you are numb. As you watch Sunfyre open his jaw to go for another bite you are numb, but you don’t stay paralyzed, you finally snap from your stupor.

“LEAVE HER ALONE!” You bellow and push yourself off the ground, slipping from the guard's gentle grasp to try and run over and pull your mother's corpse from Sunfyre’s jaw, but Ser Jason sees clearly that there’s nothing of your mother left to save. All you’ll do is piss Sunfyre off by interrupting his breakfast, so he captures your arm and yanks you back against him.

“Stop, stop,” he whispers sharply. “She’s gone. She’s gone.”

Even though a part of you knew what he was telling you, another part of you throws your hand out to try and push him off you whilst you thrash your body in an attempt to slip away, but his grip is harsh and he manages to keep you against him.

“Mama! Mama!” You cry out as if her burnt corpse getting torn apart could hear you. “Please! Someone help her! Mama!”

Sunfyre takes his third bite, and then forth, and with each bite that part of you that was in denial starts to accept the truth, making you slowly lose the last fragment of who you were and the person you became to a fire burning inside. All while your heart; that withered thing Cregan had brought back to life loses its rhythm as you lose yourself.

“Cregan,” you mutter helplessly. “Someone get me, Cregan!”

Sunfyre takes his fifth bite and your legs start to shake as your weight starts to become too much for them to hold.

“STOP IT! PLEASE!” You cry out and slowly start falling to your knees. Ser Jason can’t hold you up as you continue to squirm so he falls to the ground with you.

“Mama…” you trail off as you lose your breath the moment Sunfyre takes his sixth and last bite before leaving just her leg and nothing else.

There’s nothing left of her but that single piece of limb. She’s gone…every fragment of your old life is gone with her. Your happiness, your heart, and who you were and who you grew to be dies out with her, leaving nothing but a frail soul that finally found her breath, but only to wail out all the agony and grief that slams into you like waves angered by a terrible storm.

You hadn’t cried when Addam died, and when Aemond died you wept, but right now you scream as you know the one you loved the most is gone forever. Along with everyone else you loved.

There’s nothing left…

Even your voice is lost due to the strain not so much later, leaving you weeping silently on the ground. Ser Jason tries to console you, but you shove him away and stay put without even trying to fight back.

You stay there with your body bent over and your head hanging even if your body is still pampered with rain and ocean water, and you’re shivering.

That is until a sharp pain shoots through your lower body and you can’t help but grunt out and shoot straight up to cry out to the sky.

“Princess?” Vanessa whispers out as she notices your hand fly to your belly before you cry out again.

“Princess!” Vanessa yells out and turns to try and run to you, but the guards keeping her in place stop her—“She’s going into labor!” Vanessa says as she recognizes the signs without having to wait for more signs to show.

“She needs help!” She throws out and snaps her head to Aegon. “She can’t do it on her own. Not in the state she’s in.”

“Princess, you’re going to labor, try and keep calm,” one of your mother's handmaidens offers her help behind her captors keeping them from reaching you.

“No, no,” you mutter as you shake your head. “Not now. Not now!” You bellow before you let out another strained cry.

“Your Grace!” Vanessa yells out as she looks at you.

“Very well,” Aegon waves her off. “Let those women help the princess deliver my brother's twins,” he says and looks over his shoulder to let the guards know he’s had enough of being on that balcony.

After that the guards holding Vanessa and the other handmaidens' back, let them go, and they all scurry to you, forcing Ser Jason to carry Aerion and your brother Aegon.

“Get them out!” You shriek as another wave of pain hits you and lasts longer than the others.

Then again as paralyzing and agonizing as the pain of labor is, none of it truly compares to the pain of grief that riddles you.

Your mother's death plays over and over again as if someone was trying to torture you. It heightens the intensity of your distress, while also making the entire process of labor a blur.

One moment you’re in that courtyard, the next you’re in your quarters again, pushing and crying while also trying to fight against giving birth—not like it stops the twins from coming. The pain only worsens and your distress keeps growing until…it’s all gone the moment your twins, Daenys and Daenerys, come out crying and kicking into their new world.

Albeit you couldn’t find joy in your newborns. When you look at them it's with a distant look and no exhausted smile.

Your lips didn’t even twitch. Your eyes are cold, but in your icy demeanor, deep inside, a fire burns and turns your sadness to ash, letting a fierce rage rise from its remains.

.

.

.

.

.

A/N- FINALLY NOT PREGNANT!!!

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me @wallacewillow0773638 @icefrye19 @thescottpack @fiction-fanfic-reader @crazymusicgirl104 @r-3dlips @strangersunghoon @just-pure-trash @ethereal-athalia @missyviolet123 @callsignwidow @xunquish-blog @tabathastan @weepingfashionwritingplaid @answer-the-sirens @silverlightsaber @rosey1981 @amortentiaaaa

[arsenicflame]

thinking about Izzy walking around the whole ship pulling out every other candle from the hallways, from the rooms, especially from stede's fancy candle stashes, just for his dramatic 'relearning the basics' moment

[irndad]

Oh my gosh!!! Don’t date coworkers was so cute!!! Would you be willing to do one similar with Hotch? <3

It shouldn’t bother him.

Aaron thinks of himself as someone who adores professional candor, and wishes that his team possessed it in spades. It’s not as though she is professional in almost any other aspect. She excels in personality, and if he had any shame, it would be harder for Aaron to admit what an actual delight she is to his daily life. 

She’s kind, in a way that he’s found is rare in this world. Asks about Jack, remembers what coursework he’s struggling in and remembers to ask. She knows his coffee order, which she ascertained from reading the cup. He’s quite fond of her. David is always telling him that life is short and that any girl would be lucky to date him. In less polite terms. 

She’s beautiful. 

She’s all soft smiles and warm disposition, and she’s easy to like. She’s always the first to anticipate your needs, and Aaron can picture how he’d slot into her life, a part of him can see what it would be like to pick her up in his lavish car and drive her to the office, spend the weekends basking in her company. He’d be a good partner- he’d known how, once, and he’d try for her. 

She doesn’t date people she works with. 

The fantasy has gone too far in many ways- a version of life in his mind that lingers. She has morning ritual, and he knows it’s a little creepy he watches it from the perch of his office. She pins her hair up and puts on a coat of her lipstick, before she inevitably forgets she’s wearing it, and leaves a lip-print on her cup. It’s hard not to imagine it with her sat on his kitchen counter. 

But he knows this is a boundary of hers- and even though it’s just in his fantasies, it feels…well, wrong to fantasize about her like that. He’d heard her loud and clear, telling officer Berbrook that she makes a point not to date anyone in the Bureau. It’s arrogant to think he’d be an exception. 

This morning, she’s earlier than he’s ever seen her in the office. She’s got big, wraparound headphones and a skirt on, and two cups. She’d gotten him coffee. He might burst. He speaks out her last name when she realizes he’s in the room, and internally, a warmth blooms in his chest at the wide open smile she grants him. 

“Hi, you!”

“You’re in early.”

“Mm,” she says, her mouth still full of coffee, endearingly eager, “I know, but that coffee shop you love had fritters, and I thought you’d like one.”

Off limits. He feels his eyebrows scrunch into a frown before he speaks. 

“You didn’t have to do that. 

“No one has to do anything. I wanted to. There’s two in there, one for Jack. They keep well.”

A completely ridiculously short amount of time passes before he’s able to speak again, or more accurately as Garcia would put it, word-vomit. 

“I heard officer Berbrook asked you out. That is absolutely inappropriate- would you like me to handle it?”

“Nah,” she says back, “It’s all good.”

“Morgan told me that you have a policy of never dating anyone you work with-“

“I said that about Berbrook, Hotch. It’s not like, an off-limits thing.” She looks down at her feet. Her shoes are green, Aaron notices, helplessly endeared, “y’know, with the right person…I wouldn’t want to close that door, do you know what I mean?”

Her doe eyes peer up at him, and he knows that she’s hear 30 minutes before anyone else is just to be able to get him food, telling him that she’s open to dating coworkers, and once upon a time he could’ve taken a fucking hint. 

In his younger years, when he was bolder and better able to ask for the things he wants, he might’ve asked her out right then. Might have run him and made a dinner reservation, somewhere with candle-light for an evening that would end with her being kissed against a wall or a car. 

But for now, he takes a bite of his fritter and makes some plans. If he’s got a shot with her, that’s a revelation that’s going to need some intense planning and preparing for. He’d like to woo her, if that’s something he could ever get to do. 

“Good fritter.”

“I know, right?” 

[aishangotome]

Gilbert von Obsidian: Even If You Were To Hate Me

From A Hidden Oath: King of the BEAST (2024 Election) - Collection Event

Thank you @dark-frosted-heart for providing the SE video!

—

On a quiet night, even the candle flames hesitated to flicker.

Upon returning to my room, Emma's face bloomed into a smile.

Emma: Gil...!

Gilbert: Heh, you look very happy. Did you miss me?

Emma: Yes, I always long for you–

Suddenly, Emma's face clouded over.

(Did she notice? I thought I had washed it all away.)

Gilbert: Little rabbit, what's wrong?

Emma: No... I always long for you, Gil.

She tried to hide her emotions with a smile as she prepared tea, but her trembling fingertips betrayed her.

(You're good at noticing things, but bad at hiding them, aren't you, little rabbit?)

(You were just told something like that, so you might catch a cold from the temperature difference.)

(... If I said that, Emma would worry even more.)

As Emma suspected, I had just executed a man.

The man seemed to have harbored a considerable grudge, glaring at me until the very end and declaring, "Don't think this is over. I'll tear you to pieces in hell."

(I've been hated many times before, but it's been a while since I've felt such sharp hatred.)

(He must have lived only to hate and kill me.)

(In that sense, he's the complete opposite of Emma.)

Emma: Gil? Is something wrong?

Gilbert: It's nothing. Could you wait a moment?

-

After changing out of my blood-soaked clothes and taking a seat, Emma gently offered me a cup of tea.

Her expression was still worried, but it seemed to have softened somewhat compared to before.

Gilbert: ...Little rabbit, you love me, don't you?

Emma: Of course.

Gilbert: How much?

Emma: I can't put it into words, but my love is enormous.

Emma: Much more than you can imagine, Gil.

Gilbert: Then what would happen if that love were to turn upside down?

Emma: Turn upside down?

Gilbert: Yes. If your incredibly large love were to completely reverse itself.

Gilbert: In other words, if you came to hate me... what would happen to you, little rabbit?

I grabbed her outstretched hand and pulled her closer.

Emma's face drew near as well, and I could clearly see her eyes filled with confusion.

Gilbert: Imagine it. What if I were to take away everyone around you, Emma?

Emma: You are a jealous demon, but... you respect me.

Gilbert: What if I destroyed everything you hold dear?

Emma: I would be angry, but you wouldn't do such a thing without reason.

(She's tough.)

I pulled her hand closer and placed it on my heart.

Gilbert: Then... what if I killed someone you loved?

Emma: ...!

Emma's hand on his chest trembled for a moment.

Emma: I will never forgive you. That much... I will never forgive you, no matter what.

Her gaze pierced me with clear anger.

(What a scary face. But, the depths of your eyes still hold love, don't they?)

(I'm used to being hated and it doesn't bother me anymore.)

(But it's strange how much better it feels when it's just love.)

(No... it's not the difference between hate and love, it's probably because of your feelings.)

Gilbert: ... Heh, I made you angry.

I let go of her wrist.

Gilbert: As an apology, you can do whatever you want with me.

I spread my arms out as if offering my body, and Emma, blushing, snuggled up to me.

Emma: Then...

She gave me a quick kiss on the lips and pulled away.

Gilbert: That's all? You can be greedier, since it's a rare opportunity.

Emma: If you say that, I'll want to do something I shouldn't.

Gilbert: Go ahead.

This time, Emma pulled my hand towards her and lightly bit my finger.

Lightly, but with more force than usual.

(Huh...?)

(I thought she was angry because I said, 'What if I killed someone you loved.')

(Could it be that there's also this reason?)

Gilbert: Little rabbit, are you jealous?

Emma: Why do you think that?

Gilbert: Because you have the same look in your eyes as I do.

Emma looked down, as if accepting the truth.

Emma: If love and hate are two sides of the same coin, then the people who hate Gil must also have strong feelings.

Emma: I love Gil more than anyone else in the world.

Emma: My love is much, much bigger than all the hate directed at you.

Emma: So please, look only at me.

Gilbert: ...

Gilbert: Ahaha. More than all the hate, huh? That's really big. It might be bigger than a continent.

(If such a great love were to reverse, it would surely be a terrible thing.)

(Even if you were to hate me, I swear I would continue to love you.)

(So keep directing those feelings at me, so much that I might drown in them.)

Gilbert: My turn.

Emma: Nn...

I bit her neck, and a sound mixed with pain and sweetness escaped Emma's lips.

Emma: You said I could be greedy, right?

Gilbert: Yes.

Emma: Can I... bite you too?

Gilbert: Hehe, yes. For every mark you leave on me, I'll leave one on you too. As proof that you're mine forever.

And so, while carefully carving our love into each other, we drowned together in the deep darkness of the night, enveloped by each other's warmth.

FIN

[moremaybank]

SOMETHING STUPID — s.h

pairing steve harrington x fem!reader

summary steve's overwhelmed by the love he feels for you and blurts out a question he can't take back. he's sure you'll think he's crazy, but do you?

warnings language, but it's basically just a whole lotta fluff and steve being the cute cutie he is

author's note did i pull inspo from haley’s dad’s speech in oth?? hell yes. also, i'm really happy with how this turned out, not gonna lie. please read if you have the chance, it'll make my day ♡︎

steve masterlist

When Steve steps through the door after work with an exhausted sigh, he’s pleasantly surprised. He’s spent his entire life coming home to an empty house, always filled with a blaring silence that acted as a daunting reminder of how lonely he felt deep down inside. There was never anyone around to ask him how his day was. What was going on in his life, or if he was happy — and not the phoney kind. 

He’s so used to weathering the storm on his own, day in and day out, that he’s completely forgotten someone will be there for him this time. The previously empty home is now occupied by you and your bright, loving energy. The quiet was replaced with your music bouncing off the walls. You’re active in the mostly untouched kitchen, baking to your heart’s content and constantly stuffing your Stevie’s face full of sweets. 

Steve finally feels as if he truly has a home, and not just a place where he stores his belongings and rests his head at night. 

He makes his way through the halls, finally reaching the entryway to the kitchen and leaning against the doorframe. The dimmed lights glow throughout the room, and the artfully scattered candles burn brightly in the darkened space. Further adding to the already homey atmosphere, the sweet aroma of fresh baked goods fills the air, thanks to the chocolate chip cookies you have baking in the oven. Even with all of this going on, though, Steve can only seem to focus on one thing. 

You. 

Your frilled socks glide against the kitchen floor as you jump and twirl around on the tiles. The sound of Say You Love Me by Fleetwood Mac quells the silence, your record player turned up the highest it can go (because, in your professional opinion, there was no other way to listen to music). You pull out your signature dance moves, screwing your eyes shut and kicking your legs in the air so many times that Steve fears you’re in an imaginary fight with someone — and losing. Terribly. He also takes notice of the spatula in your hand, acting as a stand-in microphone while you lip-sync along to the lyrics. 

You’re a goofball, through and through. Still, though, Steve is utterly smitten.

“Sweet moves, baby,” he says, loud enough to be heard over the music. 

Your eyes go wide as your body stills, completely mortified that Steve has caught you in your own little world. You turn the music down, swiping the stray hairs away from your slightly sticky forehead and clearing your throat. 

“Steve! H-hey. I was just, uh…cleaning the floors. You know, makin’ them all nice and shiny for you,” you laugh uneasily. It’s complete crap and you both know it, but you’re desperate. Frankly, you’ll say anything if it means distracting Steve from this whole performing your own world tour in the middle of the kitchen thing. 

Steve cocks a brow, tongue poking his cheek as he tries to hide the grin that threatens to come into view. “Hm,” he hums, “cleaning the floors, huh?”

“Yup.”

“…With your socks?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, still slightly breathless, “It’s a…great way to incorporate exercise into daily household chores.”

Steve tries to stop it, but he can’t help but let a laugh escape from his lips. He walks over to you, arms wide open and ready to encircle around you. “C’mere, you goof. Gimme some sugar.”

You break out into a grin, happily stepping into your boyfriend’s embrace and giving him a tight hug. You feel his hands smooth down your back before wrapping around your waist and holding you tighter to him. After a moment, you pull away, and your hands come up to his face so you can press your lips to his. He hums into the kiss contently, melting into the touch he’s been longing all day for. 

“Missed you so much,” Steve pouts, his bottom lip jutting out adorably. 

“I missed you too,” you reply, granting him another kiss. “How was your day?”

Before Steve can answer, Say You Love Me comes to a stop, and the soft sounds of Landslide begin to bleed into the silence. Choosing to let you enjoy your favourite song, Steve shrugs it off, “We can talk about that later, wanna dance with you.”

Steve extends his hand toward you, silently asking for you to join your hand in his. You smile, sliding your palm into his and letting him pull you to his chest. He keeps his other hand on the small of your back, and your free arm curls around his shoulder as the two of you begin to sway together in time with the music. Steve feels you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck and relax further into his hold, and he lets the voice of Stevie Nicks wrap around you both like a warm blanket as he holds you. 

The two of you sway back and forth, taking a peaceful moment to feel your hearts beat against one another. Steve never wants to let go. This is the closest and most intimate he’s ever felt with anyone, and that should scare him, he thinks. But it doesn’t, because being with you feels like heaven on earth. He can’t believe that he’s found someone who makes his heart soar the way you do. Who makes him smile so hard his cheeks hurt, and gives him a love so deep and true that it’s become a vital part of him. Just thinking of you makes his knees weak.

He’s completely enamoured by you.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask, breaking him free from his thoughts as you pull away from his grasp slightly. 

Steve looks down at you, remaining silent, and his gaze flashes over your features. The kind eyes he feels he’s always known. The tiny scar near your temple from where you’d gotten stitches as a child. The curve of your lips and how he swears he can feel them gliding over his own every single time he thinks about them. He then moved onto the oversized t-shirt your body is clad in — one you’d obviously stolen out of his closet, and the pair of boxers hanging from your hips (also swiped from his wardrobe). Your aforementioned frilly socks pulled your signature at-home look together, one that brought an incredible amount of comfort to Steve. It shows him that you consider his home to be your home too. That you’ve found a home in him, just as he has with you.

He can see himself doing this whole life thing with you forever, and he can’t explain it, but he suddenly feels compelled to speak up, and the words tumble from his lips before he can stop them. 

“Do you wanna get married?” 

Your head shoots up, and you peer up at him with a look of shock. “I’m sorry, w-what?”

Steve’s eyes threaten to bulge out of their sockets, and his heart rate skyrockets as the panic waves through him. “Oh god, I- I said that out loud,” he says, slowly letting go of you and running a hand through his long chestnut locks. “Wow. Uh— Okay.”

“Did— Did you just ask me to marry you?” You stammer, quiet as a mouse. You don’t move. Steve doesn’t think you can. 

It’s obvious that you think he’s gone certifiably insane. His hands raise in defence, and he manages to start blurting out everything he can in an attempt to rectify the situation. “Listen, baby, we can totally act like that never happened—”

“Steve—”

“—In fact, it didn’t. I have no idea what you’re talking about, babe. No freakin’ idea—”

Finally, your hand cups over his mouth to stop him from rambling any further. His last few words sound muffled before they eventually come to a stop once he realizes what’s happening. His fingers curl around your wrist, moving your hand from his lips before giving you a small, sheepish smile. His cheeks flush profusely, “Sorry.” 

Oh, the things Steve would do if it meant he could take back the last few minutes of his life and go back to before he opened his big mouth and ruined everything. It’s not that he doesn’t want to marry you. That’s definitely not the case. But the regret he’s currently feeling after watching your horrified reaction play out…it’s enough to make him want to jump into his pool and never come back up for air. 

But then…when your eyes seem to light up and a small smile curves your lips upward, he thinks there just might be some hope left for him. 

“You wanna marry me?” You questioned, your hands finding solace on his lower arms. “Why?”

His brows pull together in confusion? Why? He can see the doubt eating away at you by how small you’ve become in the past few seconds. Are you truly doubting how much you mean to him? How much you’ve spun his world on its axis and changed him forever? 

“I— What?” 

“Why would you want me to marry you?”

“Yeah, I got that, I just…are you serious?” You nod, giving him the slightest shrug. Your shyness is peaking through far too much for you to offer him any more of a reaction. 

A soft and gentle laugh slips past his lips and his body relaxes. His warm palm smoothes up your arm and finds its resting place at the base of your jaw. His thumb swipes over your skin, and his warmth bleeds through your flesh. All the love he holds in his heart for you floats up to his eyes, and his chocolate orbs soften. He’s never felt so tender and full of affection as he does now. 

“You have no idea how special you are to me, do you?” 

He says it with such conviction that you know the words are true to his heart. Still, the way they hit you is all too much, and you can’t help but deflect them with a tiny joke. Your eyes fall away from his. “I mean, I figured you liked me a little.” 

“Stop,” he chides, albeit gently. He guides your gaze back onto his. “I’m serious.” 

It’s your turn to apologize as your cheeks heat up. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry. Just, hear me out.” 

“Okay,” you murmur. 

His left hand mirrors the hold his right one has on your face. The ring you gifted him for your first anniversary is cold against your skin. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and he takes a breath before speaking. “You— You’re staggering, honey. You’ve given my heart a home. You’ve had it since the moment I met you, and you’ve kept it safe. Cherished it and nurtured it. You’ve given me everything I’ve ever wanted. I— I look into your eyes and it's like I can see the rest of my life inside ‘em.” 

Your heart melts, and you feel the tears start to pool in the brims of your eyes. “Steve,” you whisper. 

“I have no idea what’s going to happen in the future. Not a freakin’ clue, especially with all the supernatural shit that goes on in this town. But I do know that you’re supposed to be in it. You are my future, baby. I might not know a lot, but I do know this. You are the girl I’m going to spend my life loving. And I’m gonna give you everything if you’ll let me.”

His heartfelt words are almost enough to make you forget about your doubts. You want them to. But you can’t seem to quiet the worries circling inside your head. 

“Steve, I love you. You know I do. But, aren’t we too young? I don’t want to risk losing you. I don’t think I could take it if I did.” 

His hands slide down your neck and land on your shoulders. His warmth spreads through you again, and already, you feel better. It’s almost as if all he has to do is exist to wash your fears away. 

“I know. I know we’re young. But, so what if we are? To me, that just means I get to be with you even longer.” One hand abandons your shoulder, and he hooks his index finger under your chin. The pad of his thumb strokes over the tip of your chin. Eyes boring into your soul, he holds them captive. “You can drive at sixteen, drink at twenty-one, retire in your sixties. How old do you have to be to know that your love will last? ‘Cause I know my answer, down to the second.” 

You can’t seem to hide the smile that forces its way onto your lips. The sincerity in his gaze, the vulnerability he’s shown you since day one, it’s all too much. You can’t imagine ever walking away from him, can’t imagine what your life would be like if he wasn’t in it. Mornings you shared where he’d pout as soon as you mentioned getting out of bed. Picnics on warm summer days. Hearing him sing along to the radio in the car. You want those memories and every single one that would come to you in the future — your future with him. 

“Ask me again.” 

“Yeah?” He smiled. 

“Yeah,” you confirmed. But just as he’s about to do as you asked, half of the words leaving his mouth, you can’t contain the excitement. Your lips slam onto his as you pull him closer. You murmur a few yesses against his lips and feel them spread into a grin. Soon, his arms are wrapped around your waist and he’s lifting you up and into the air, spinning you around with joy. The kitchen is soon filled with giggles, and Steve is exclaiming your news loudly, even though you’re both alone.

“We’re getting married, sweetheart!”

STEVE TAG LIST (JOIN HERE): @oncasette @taintedxkisses @findapenny @bmo-bri @hemogloban @slytherhoes @shawnspoems @vigilanteshitposting @poppet05 @earth2starkey @aerangi @cantstoptherecs @sarah5462 @slut4drudy @cilliansangel @darleneslane @sya-skies @gillybear17 @lovelyxtom @rcbuttercup @redhead1180 @runningfrom2am @thejuleshypothesis @scarlettocean @subconsciouscollapse @violetmacher @iluvteyqmm @buckyisveryhot

[ozzgin]

I was pondering on what horrors to write for Halloween and when I remembered how many times I’d hoped for Valak content…I ran and whipped out my Grimoire and started typing in delirious inspiration.

Yandere! Valak x Reader

Featuring the Infernal President and a blissfully unaware reader backpacking through Romania. Warning: NSFW, blasphemy, non-consent

[Horror Masterlist]

“Mommy told me something

A little kid should know

It’s all about the Devil

And I’ve learned to hate him so

She said he causes trouble

When you let him in the room

He will never ever leave you

If your heart is filled with gloom”

"Now, you can't really say you've visited Romania until you see at least one monastery! Most Romanians are very religious, so churches and monasteries are popular attractions for tourists and locals alike." The tour guide is awfully enthusiastic for a cloudy Sunday morning. You nod politely and follow the group, although you can already feel yourself become distracted.

You're mostly interested in the old castles and bucolic hiking trails that Transylvania has to offer. Religious places...not so much. Alas, it's part of the experience. You check the flyer containing today's travel plans and google the location mentioned by the guide. Cârța Monastery. Seems to have some ruins included, and you'll be right on time for the Sunday chorus service, huh. Maybe that's why they picked today for a visit. 

You hurry along the cobblestone path until the first traces of a building come into view. Somehow you can't shake the feeling that something is off. You scan over the visible windows, wondering if someone is watching from above. Nothing. Once you lower your gaze again, you notice the tour guide vigorously waving his arm and encouraging you to enter the church with everyone else. You were at the very front of the group, so how long did you stare at walls? You flash an apologetic smile and rush inside. The wooden door closes with a grating creak and you fumble to the first available seat. There's a few coughs and shuffles and eventually the Liturgy begins. Your eyes wander until they find a clear window, so you entertain yourself with the sights outside. It's not like you understand the words of whatever is currently happening, and you're not religious to begin with. 

"How long is this going to take?" you groan internally and switch your focus to your hands, intertwined and resting in your lap. The monotonous chants cause your eyelids to feel heavy and they gradually lower themselves until all you see is black. It's okay, you're not sleeping. It's just a short nap, until...huh...the voices of the singing men diffuse as if distorted by distance and now everything is quiet. 

"Took you long enough." 

You jolt awake. You turn your head to check if whoever is sitting next to you has just spoken, but the room is suddenly empty. You jump from your seat and the thud of your feet hitting the stone floor creates a cavernous echo that sends a shiver down your spine. Ah, could it be that you're dreaming? The candles of the chandelier flicker, as if startled by a breeze, and abruptly go out. 

"I don't like waiting. Especially for mere humans like you."

The same voice as before reverberates through the chamber. It's deep and jarring, sounding almost unnatural. You don't like it. You tilt your head, afraid to find the source of speech but too curious nonetheless. It's a person dressed like a nun. For a brief second you relax your shoulders, assuming it's one of the people living here. But after one step ahead the figure becomes vaguely illuminated, and you can discern the features bearing on this creature's face. Blood drains from your face and you can feel the bile pooling at the back of your throat. A blasphemous deformity, oozing with blight and evil. From within the hollow, dark sockets, two yellow orbs glisten with raw malice. You realize you've held your breath until now as your lungs contract in a pitiful attempt to pump more oxygen. The movement brings back your senses and your flight instincts kick in. You immediately sprint for the door and use your elbow to slam it open, nearly collapsing to the ground. Your eyes squint under the flash of bright light. 

As you pant for air you notice you're back outside. There's people taking photos and talking cheerfully, and inside the church your group seems to have gathered before the iconostasis, listening attentively to a hearty discourse from your guide. The liturgy ended. What on Earth did you just witness? Before you can ponder the event, you feel a tug at your sleeve. It's an old lady, short and comically hunched. She's dressed all in black, with a head covering that hides most of her face, though you can still see the deep wrinkles that cross her features. 

"Oh? Sorry, I don't speak-"

"L-am văzut și eu. Diavolul, maică. Aici nu mai e demult casa Domnului. Pleacă cât mai poți, am să mă rog pentru tine." 

Her voice is shaky and she seems in distress. She strokes your arm once before limping away hastily. You blink and spend a moment trying to collect your thoughts. There's no one else nearby to ask for a translation, so you can only hope she finds help somewhere else. You return to the group and hope you won't have to deal with any other adventures. 

"This is the annex. You can still see some details in the arches." Your guide points around the pillars and mossy brick patches. You take out your phone for some photos and your arms tremble slightly. 

"It's suddenly very cold here, don't you think so?" you remark to your neighbor. 

"Really? I'm quite literally sweating right now" they respond, baffled.

"It's a shaded area, that's probably why."

"Or you're just that excited to see me again."

Your eyes widen. It's the voice. You blink, and you find yourself in the empty church once more. No, no, no, this isn't happening. No. You're dreaming. This is an absurdity. Some hallucination of sorts. You try the door handle, except this time it's locked. 

"It's not often I become interested in a mortal. In fact, this is the only time."

The nun is sitting on a bench, hands together in a praying motion. There's a mocking grin on its face. 

"Maddening, truly. Deplorable, disgraceful, outrageous. Humiliation would await me if they suspected my intentions with a perishable being like you."

"Who the hell are you?" you interrupt the erratic monologue. The nun stands up and locks eyes with you, instantly making you nauseous. 

"The Sixty-second Spirit, President Mighty and Great. His Office is to give True Answers of Hidden Treasures, and to tell where Serpents may be seen. The which he will bring unto the Exorciser without any Force or Strength being by him employed. He governeth 38 Legions of Spirits."

"What?"

"Valac." the creature extends a hand, as if expecting a handshake. "At least that's how they introduce me in the Lesser Key of Solomon." The fingers spread out and you feel a gravitational force pull you closer. It chuckles.

The cold fingers sink into your back and feel like claws digging your flesh. You let out a scream of protest and try to push away without success. It hurts. The touch burns your skin and spreads out like a wicked plague. What would this fiend even want from you? You search your mind for potential meanings and explanations. Truth be told, however, you're not well-versed in theological fantasies. 

"You can't just possess someone's body. I won't accept it. You don't have my permission."

The creature erupts in hysterical laughter and you feel your knees weaken at the sharp, grotesque teeth that creep their way out. Everything about it is vile, scandalous. Unholy.

"If you want to call it like that...Then sure. But for this kind of possession I don't need your input, I'm afraid."

Your limp body is picked up and sloppily thrown over the altar table. The impact of the hard surface against your stomach causes you to gasp. You try to turn your head and look behind, but the large, clawed hand locks around your neck and keeps you in place. You can only glance ahead. You can sense your garments being ripped apart with one swift move and shudder at the unexpected contact with the cold air on your bare body. The creature's other hand slides over your forms before stopping on your bottom, adjusting it. The realization sinks in and you begin to panic. Is this the time to say a prayer? You don't know any. 

"Our Father..." you mumble, trying to remember the continuation. 

"Go on. I'm sure He'd love to hear from you while you're being fucked on His altar. Send Him my regards."

He forces your hips upwards, exposing your intimacy. Without any further delay he thrusts his member in, painfully stretching your entrance around it. Tears well up in your eyes at the sudden discomfort. The iconostasis in front of you blurs and sways with each violent plunge into your frail body. 

"Oh, God" you sob.

"God ends here."

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

For All The Birthdays You Missed, Andrew

Happy birthday Andrew Kreiss I want cover you in kisses sobs

Rated Explicit | Warnings: Vampire AU

Birthdays are rare to be celebrated in the manor, if ever. Many have either forgotten when they were born or lost track long ago of how old they are, so no point in baking a cake. It is rather depressing, but you respect the boundary (Luca loves birthdays though he makes up numbers guessing his age each time).

“Andrew,” Then you learned one of them never had a proper birthday, and you felt the need to, at least, give him this. A happy memory in this new life, silly as it may seem to others, but you hope he likes it. “Happy birthday.”

The cake is a simple yellow cake with vanilla frosting and purple flower designs. A ‘Happy Birthday, Andrew’ written on with a single candle in the middle. A private celebration between you both in a hotel in the city away from the others. He has you all to him all day.

“Andrew?” 

Andrew is quiet as the candle burns, you notice the build-up of tears at the corner of his eyes as he watches the candle burn. You smile gently as you wrap your arms from behind around his neck, rubbing your cheek against his. The table is clear of everything outside of the small cake and two plates and a knife to cut the cake. The fancy hotel room is a bit much for him but he will see why you set this up later on.

“Make a wish, birthday boy.”

He takes a deep breath and then blows out the candle.

“Thank you.” He says finally, “You didn't have to.”

“I want to and we can have as many more birthdays after.” Kissing his cheek, “Next time though, Luca would like to join.”

“S-sure.” Andrew is not sure if he is ready for that level of energy that man can bring.

“We can work up to inviting him.” Moving away to cut the small cake, “First cake then your gift.” Winking at him.

“Gift?”

You nod as you give him a plate serving him the biggest piece with the flower on it.

The gift is him naked and covered in red lipstick marks, he is hands bound to the bedpost keeping there but he can tug hard enough to break out. “Andrew, you are so beautiful.” Riding him as he feels like enduring your praise tenfold. You have adored him before but this is worse as you used a camera, one that prints out the pictures instantly, to show him your favorite parts of him. Those pictures were scattered all over the bed.

His albino skin is a bright pink from how much he is blushing as you moan out his name.

“Enough already!”

You squeal loudly and rather embarrassingly as breaks out of the loose binds to pin you down on the bed, breathing hard and his face completely exposed as you brushed back his hair previously.

“(Name).”

“Andrew.” Your hands are free to touch his face as he leans down, “You can move. This is your gift.”

When he first met you, he had accidentally killed you… Gruesomely. He felt like a monster. Burying you in some unmarked grave only for you to return to him partially healed on a stormy night terrified him.

He swore you were God's divine punishment upon him, you were a test and he failed! You were going to kill him. It took him weeks to be able to look you in the eyes, much less be in the same room. He did not immediately go to the manor either fearing it was a trap but came when he became desperate for blood.

Now, you are the most important person in his life, and value him more than anyone ever has both before he was a human and after he became a vampire.

His mother… Sometimes he wonders if she would have liked you. Someone strong enough to shoulder the world with him.

“I love you.” He says without thinking that he pulls back in fear but you grab him before he can panic.

“I love you too, Andrew.” Sometimes when you are serious it scares him, Naib Subedar is like this when Norton has his episodes, you return those feelings to him. “I love you, Andrew Kreiss.” Staying still for a few heartbeats, “Now fuck me like you love me.” Ordering him.

And he does with all of his love and then some.

[makotafi]

Late nights

----

----

It was late at night when you heard the familiar creak of the door to your shop. The soft rustle of footsteps followed, accompanied by a sigh. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

Julian let out another heavy breath as he stepped into the dimly lit room, his silhouette barely visible in the soft glow of the candles iluminating the shop . He froze when he noticed you standing by the counter, arms crossed.

"O... oh? Darling, whaaaaat are you doing up this late?" Julian stammered, his voice carrying a mix of surprise and guilt. He averted his gaze, clearly flustered.

"I should be the one asking that," you replied, arching an eyebrow. "You're late, Julian."

"Darling, dear, I'm always late," he chuckled, trying to play it off as he hung his coat on the nearest hook.

"Julian..." you sighed deeply, the disappointment evident in your tone.

"Okay, okay," Julian admitted, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Maybe I’m later than usual, but only because we had so many people at the clinic tonight. It’s been.... hectic ya know ?."

You softened slightly but kept your stern gaze. "Julian, we’ve talked about this. You’re working yourself too hard!"

He looked at you, his usual mischievous glint now replaced with guilt "I know, dear, but it’s hard to say no when people need help."

You sight stepping closer, gently taking his hand in yours. "I’m not mad, Julian. I’m just worried about you. You can’t ...haah...you can't keep running yourself into the ground like this."

Julian seemed to melt at your touch, his tension easing as he intertwined his golved fingers with yours. "I’m sorry, love. I don’t mean to worry you. I just... I guess I don’t know how to stop."

"How about this," you suggested, squeezing his hand gently. "Take a break tomorrow. We can make it a date, just the two of us.Please?"

A tired but genuine smile spread across Julian’s face. "I... haha, you know I can’t say no to you. But can we go to bed now? I am positively exhausted."

"Only after you take a shower," you teased, scrunching your nose. "You stink, Julian."

"Aww, but I thought you liked me in all my stinky, grimy glory," Julian protested, dramatically draping himself over you.

"Julian!" you laughed, struggling to keep the both of you from tumbling over. "Go take a shower, damn it!"

"Fiiiine," he groaned after a moment, dragging out the word as he stood up. "But you’re coming with me."

"Wha-" before you could protest, Julian swiftly scooped you up into his arms, carrying you towards the small washroom at the back of the shop.

"Julian!" you squealed, half-laughing, half-protesting as he carried you effortlessly. "Put me down! You’re going to hurt yourself silly !"

"Not a chance," he grinned, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten as he carried you through the door. "Besides, I need someone to scrub my back."

He finally set you down inside the washroom, the sound of the water beginning to run as he prepared the shower. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him, so disheveled yet still managing to look like the most beautiful person in the world ,the way way his hair draps perfectlyover his face ,the way his shirt draps perfectly over his paper white skin .

"You’re impossible," you muttered fondly, watching as he began to strip off his grimy clothes.

"And you love me for it," Julian shot back with a wink.

---------------‐-----------

Idk how to write a shower scene lol but if yall want I can make a part 2 [after I research how to write a shower scene cus tehe <:3]

ALSO THIS I MY FIRST TIME WRITING READER X CHARACTER sooo criticism is welcome! >:3 [be nice or I'll cry jk jk ]

Also !!! Smol thanks to @wxnderdream and @blueblobbing for encouraging me to post this tehe 👉👈 [sending yall virtual kisses]

Oki I've rambled enough lol ama go sob in the corner for being cringe

[scoobysnakz]

heyy girl i think if u haven’t what abt u write a dbf miguel x reader ik i see so many but theyre so gd to read they get me so invested every time🤷🏽‍♀️

summary: you’ve just come home from college for christmas but there’s a stranger in your bedroom

a/n: dbf as in dads best friend or dad boy friend? 😭 i’d do either but for this i’ll do dads best friend bc… yh. also tysm for the request it means sm 😚😚😚 also I guess this is a fic now? Bc I kinda hate one shots bci can never cut down on lore and stuff.

❤️

You hadn’t realised how easily college had managed to seep its way into every aspect of your life, pulling you away from both your family and social life, until you came home for Christmas.

Everyone looks so different, your mum is more colourful and chirpy, your father is healthier and your brother is surprisingly mature. But what takes you most by surprise is the lack of silence that has taken them by storm. When you had come home for the summer most of your stay had been filled with an uncomfortable but unfortunately familiar silence following you around but now, you can’t shut them up.

The entirety of the drive home from the train station is full of chatter, and for once they include you. They seem so genuinely invested about you that you don't even question the randomness of their questions, ranging from the journey home and the local shops that surround your campus.

“I heard that there's one of those pretentious, hipster coffee places nearby,” your dad claims from the driver's seat, not bothering to look around at you.

“Vegan?” you offer dryly, unsure of it he knows you work there or not.

“That's it!” he clicks proudly, resulting in both you and your brother sharing a sigh.

Part of you hopes that it’s because of you; that maybe they realised how much they loved you while you were gone and now feel overjoyed at your return. There’s a feeling of doubt floating around in your mind, telling you that this is just a random occurrence, but you push it to the side, wanting to focus on the positive and unrealistic.

***

Your brother helps you lug your suitcase into the house claiming, ‘It’s the least I can do’ which is surreal coming from someone who hasn’t written to you the entirety of your time away. You hand him your antler clifton all the same, glad you didn't have to carry it across the drive as well as up the stairs.

The warmth from the house welcomes you in, the softness of the heated air a stark difference from the harsh bitterness from outside. The sweet smell of cinnamon and gingerbread candles lures you in so soothingly that you don't even notice the extra pair of shoes neatly paired together with the rest by the front door.

“I'll leave it here,” your brother mutters before sliding across the floorboards towards the living room on the heels of his feet- not as mature as you presumed. You smile half-heartedly with a small nod, jealous of how easily he can dismiss himself.

And suddenly you’re alone again, left to your own devices as your parents go start dinner and your brother now yelling into his mic from the living room. It hurts slightly, moments ago they were all over you, so invested in you and your life that you forgot what they're truly like. It's the way it always been and you're a fool for thinking otherwise.

You scold yourself for being so naive as to believe that they'd changed, that they weren't as self-absorbed as they used to be, before pulling yourself away from your sea of negative thoughts.

You stare at your suitcase, bright white light shining on it from the lamp hanging above your head, and decide to leave it there, too tired to carry it upstairs to your room.

The steps creak under your weight as you slouch up the stairs, one hand idly dragging across the chipped bannister. You can't count how many times your dad’s tried to repaint it, how much money he's spent on overpriced glosses and varnishes, how many hours he's spent sanding the thing down.

As you cross the landing, thick carpet dampening the sound of your steps, you the bathroom door left ajar and the soft heat emanating from it. Which is… weird because both your parents and your brother are downstairs. But you shrug it off, too fed up to care, and drag yourself over to your bedroom, head drooping downwards with fatigue.

Casually, you push your door open, expecting the room to be empty and your bed freshly made as it often is when you come home for the holidays. Except it isn't.

Soft jazz music hums throughout the room, playing from a speaker you can't quite place, and the smell of an intoxicatingly strong aftershave clings to the air. Your walls are still decorated with the wallpaper you had when you left but it's covered in various posters. Some are boring and presumably scientific based on the array of symbols, whereas others are insanely niche but you don't really put too much effort into trying to understand them- you're too distracted by the man standing in the middle of your room, half naked and dripping with water.

He's tall, intimidatingly so, but the soft dimples that form in his cheeks as he smiles down at you soothe your nerves- slightly.

“Hey,” he grins down at you, head now cocked to the side and pats his ear causing water droplets to drip onto your carpeted floor.

You blink at him, completely dumbstruck and unsure of what to do. “What the fuck?” you breathe shakily, palms clamming up as your brain desperately flickers between arousal and fear.

The man’s brow furrows at your anxious tone and his smile falters slightly. “I think I should be the one cursing here,” he jests, tone annoyingly light, “you’ve just walked into my room without knocking or anything.”

“You're room?” you scoff, arms folding across your chest. “You're the stranger here, not me.”

He grins at your attitude, those dimples presenting themselves again. “I’m offended, has it been that long since you've last seen me?” he questions, large hand splayed across his chest feigning offence.

You pause for a moment and let your gaze scan him for a moment. He looks familiar, dark slicked back hair and mahogany eyes that are simultaneously scrutinizing and sympathetic.

“A la mierda, querida, have you really forgotten me?” he teases.

And then it clicks. You feel so embarrassed now, for not recognising him. Miguel, your dad’s best friend who you haven't seen for years, is finally visiting again.

He does look different now, though. He's still tall and his face is as chiselled as ever, though there are creases in his skin from when he's smiled too often or squinted too hard at the sun, but he's bulked up a considerable amount. His biceps look bigger than your thighs, tensing and relaxing with every slight movement and shining with the shower water in the yellow light of the evening sun. In fact, his entire body is covered in muscles, and what you can see of his lower half is toned, covered in dark tufts of hair, yes, but the curvature of each muscle is still visible.

He clears his throat and you realise that you’ve been staring longer than intended, shame burning hot on your neck.

“Sorry,” you mutter, “about not recognising you.”

He shrugs off your apology, which irks you slightly but you push past it, and smile once again. “I look different, old age is catching up on me.”

That's definitely what's different.

> next

[tubbypeddle]

Prosciutto x nurse!fem!reader (sfw, nsfw)

headcanons are like,,so fun. I'll actually be at work writing these bc i love doing them 🤧

(also, very loosely based off of the matchup trade i did with endless lady (and by very loosely i mean not that loosely))

(authors note: i have not been to a doctors office in literal years, and the last time i spoke to any sort of nurse was when a hospice nurse came to help my grandmother pass, so i apologize for any inaccuracies)

(sfw)

-you met him when he was admitted to your hospital for a head injury. The grown boy accompanying him (Pesci) was wailing and generally causing a big scene out of worry, and he was just coherent enough to watch with awe as you managed to calm Pesci down enough that he could sit in the waiting room without him

-After that, when you came to his side to tend to his equipment, he mustered up the courage to ask you

-"You helped my overgrown manbaby brother...why?"

-You'd laugh and say "He definitely wasn't the worst patient I've ever had. Besides, he's only worried about you, it must be scary to see your big brother hooked up to all these intimidating machines."

-which, yknow...is understandable

-After he's been released from the hospital, he puts in a request to Risotto to have you as the squad's personal medic

-youd be paid handsomely, of course, with whatever the Boss decided you were worth. But Prosciutto knew your worth.

-if you're accepted to work for La Squadra, congratulations! You've got an arrogant man constantly in your infirmary!

-Even if the Boss denies Prosciutto's request, he'd still find his way to your hospital.

-Prosciutto's not even injured most of the time, he just wants to see you.

-his form of courting you is...weird. He critiques tiny things about you; how you've organized your equipment, how you've organized your files (how did he even get into those? those are confidential-), how you talk to your patients

-Honestly, at first, you actually don't even notice that he's romantically interested in you. he just seems so rude and mean and critical

-really though, he's just tryna keep you "up to his standards"

-he's got a bit of an ego, he believes that when he wants someone by his side, he wants them to be as presentable as he is, or even more than he is. (which is the case with you, he already thinks you're pretty perfect, but it's a habit he can't break)

-it really takes a long time before you notice he wants to date you

-when you finally do notice though, you're a little endeared by his odd habits. you learn to brush off his nitpicking, learn about his friends turned family.

-when he introduces you to them, his family, formaggio in particular is shocked. like, what? Prosciutto?? found this super hot nurse chick?? AND managed to impress her enough that she'd date his hot mess ass? like....why?

(nsfw below the cut)

(nsfw)

-he tends to switch between wanting something slow and sensual, real love-making, or something raw and fast and mean, depending on his mood.

-when he's feeling something slower, he'll bed you right, believe it

-candle lit dinner in his apartment, flowers, rose petals on the bed, the whole fucking show

-when he's feeling rough, though...pray for your legs and yo pussy, gurl, bc he's mean.

-he don't care where you two are, he'll fuck you in a bathroom stall, a greenhouse, his fucking car, even in your own fucking nurse's office. he does not care. he's taking you wherever he can

-BOOBS

-he loves BOOBS

-he's giving you specific outfits with very pretty boob windows just so he can stare at you in them. and then fuck you in the cafe restroom, because he just cannot help himself.

-and oral

-this man has an oral fixation, and he wants his mouth on you ALWAYS. giving you nASTY head, or sucking on your tits, or leaving so many hickeys on you that you need to wear concealer even WITH your scrubs.

-biter

[syrupfog]

When Penguin starts finding petals littered around the bunk room on the Tang, in the beginning he thinks nothing of it. People track in dirt and leaves all the time— or maybe Clione was trying to pretty up the place at some point. There was an incident a while ago with ornamental candles that stopped after Bepo took a bite of one.

He takes more notice when the flower petals keeps happening, though. 

They’ve been at sea for weeks with their only stop being a winter island to stock up. There’s no way someone’s tracking in bright, fire-red petals from a barren landscape like that.

He considers going to Law about it, but decides against it. It feels like overreacting. It’s overreacting, right? Just some flower petals from time to time, surely it’s nothing. 

Well, it’s nothing for about a week.

A week before he’s walking into the mess hall at dinner and spotting Shachi coughing into the collar of his boiler suit before surreptitiously drawing out a handful of crumpled red blossoms when he thinks no one is looking.

Well, fuck.

Penguin corners Shachi in his bunk later when everyone else is doing actual responsible things.

“Who is it?” Penguin asks, sliding over Shachi and sitting down heavy on his stomach.

Shachi groans from the weight. Rude. “Who is what?” 

“Whoever you can’t get over,” Penguin says.

He knows he’s right when Shachi shifts uncomfortably beneath him. “None of your fucking business,” Shachi says, and Penguin can tell even with the sunglasses that he’s avoiding his gaze.

“Fuck off, I told you the second I was crushing on Killer,” Penguin pouts.

“You tell me the second you find a stranger’s ass hot,” Shachi points out. “That’s not special.”

“Well it’s still important.” Penguin leans forward, arms bracketing Shachi’s head, brims of their hats almost touching. “Come on. Why aren’t you confessing? The flowers mean you’re not confessing.”

“Or that I got rejected,” Shachi points out peevishly.

Penguin blinks. “You got rejected?” he screeches. Impossible. Who would reject Shachi?

Unfortunately, his screeching alerts Hakugan, apparently passing by out in the corridor, who comes barging into the room.

“Hey! Penguin you were supposed to be on cleanup duty with me and I just had to swab the whole mess myself!”

Shachi manages to slip out from under Penguin’s hold while Penguin makes flimsy excuses that Hakugan doesn’t buy.

Damn it. 

Shachi avoids him after that, or at least avoids one-on-one situations. And that drives Penguin insane. When has Shachi ever kept secrets from him?

—

“He doesn’t do this!” Penguin moans, face planting into Killer’s thigh.

“Maybe he’s embarrassed,” Killer suggests, petting his hat.

“Shachi tells me every time he takes a shit and half the time he wants me to rate them,” Penguin grouses. “He can’t be embarrassed.”

He feels Killer’s hand pause for a moment before resuming petting. “Taking a shit might not be as personal as getting rejected,” he suggests. “If that’s what happened. Which we don’t know. But especially so since it’s someone he clearly has actual feelings for.”

Penguin, very briefly, considers the possibility that Shachi has a crush on him.

But then he dismisses it. They’ve made out (and more) many times over the years and Penguin knows he’s not Shachi’s type. Shachi likes them passionate. That’s the word he uses, at least. Penguin’s not exactly sure what he means.

“How long are you lot docking here?” he asks, shifting the conversation out of frustration.

“Log pose resets for us in three more days, so should be four for you guys.”

“Excellent. Lots of time to make out.”

Killer laughs. Penguin likes it when Killer laughs.

Law’s never been a fan of the Kid pirates but he’s made certain allowances since Penguin and Killer started dating. When they’re on the same island, they dock within room-ing distance so that Penguin can be deposited on the Punk’s deck like a child of divorced parents.

But usually it’s just Penguin. Which is why he’s so confused when he comes out of Killer’s room in his skivvies and hat for a midnight snack only to catch a brief glance of Shachi sneaking around the end of the corridor.

“Wha—?“ Penguin says before taking off running after him.

He doesn’t catch him. He turns around the bend and Shachi’s nowhere to be seen.

Returning to Killer’s room, where Killer is splayed out and snoring on the bed, Penguin sits on his stomach and says, “What’s Shachi doing here?”

“Hnnnm,” says Killer, throwing an arm over his face. “What happened to snack time?”

Penguin snaps his fingers at him. “Keep up,” he says. “Shachi’s on your ship. Why is Shachi on your ship?”

“Fuck should I know,” Killer mumbles, turning over onto his side, leading to Penguin tumbling off of him.

But a thought has occurred to Penguin. “Oh no,” he says. “Is it you?”

“Is what me?” Killer asks, pulling Penguin in and clearly trying to go back to sleep.

“Are you the reason he’s got Hanahaki? Does he like you?”

Killer snorts. “Shachi doesn’t like me, babe.”

“How do you know?” Penguin stops. He considers. “I guess you’re going to have to date us both.”

“Peng, I’m not the only person on this ship. You know that, right?”

“But you’re the only hot one!”

Killer opens his eyes and gives Penguin a flat look. “You’re biassed,” he says. “If Shachi liked me, he’d tell you. Your first instinct upon learning that he might light me is to try to share me with him. You know he’d tell you.”

He tugs Penguin back down vertical. “Also, I’m not good at sharing.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen the way you get with noodles,” Penguin mumbles. Trapped under Killer’s arm, he figures he’ll corner Shachi tomorrow. For now, he tries to rank the other Kid pirates in order of hotness, listing them off on his fingers as Killer ignores him. Heat? Wire? Mosh? Boogie? Obviously no one compares to Killer.

—

Of course, the next day he can’t find Shachi. 

He goes back to the Tang (two days until the Kids set off) but no one has seen him. Ikkaku thinks he might have gone into town. Jean Bart says he didn’t sleep there last night. Law rolls his eyes and says nothing, but that’s perfectly normal.

He snoops around the Victoria Punk but he doesn’t know the layout of the ship quite as well, and eventually resorts to asking around. Quincy says she saw him on the upper decks. UK says he was near steerage. Dive says she watched him steal the good pancakes. So he’s been here. Somewhere.

But why?

And then, down another corridor looking for clues, Penguin finds the petals.

It’s a handful of them, smushed and hidden under some equipment boxes in the hallway right outside the captain’s quarters, ironically just two doors down from Killer’s room.

Penguin abandons decorum and throws Kid’s door open.

Which, in hindsight, was not a smart move, but Penguin’s critical thinking is not what it could be right now.

And hey, he finds Shachi.

He finds Shachi leaning over Kid, the fucking captain, swapping spit.

A strangled sound comes out of Penguin’s mouth.

Shachi scrambles off of Kid in a hurry and Kid wipes his mouth, cursing in Penguin’s direction.

“What the fuck you can’t just barge in here,” he snaps, all the metal in the room shaking a little in response.

“Him?” Penguin yells, ignoring Kid entirely and looking at Shachi. “That’s who?”

“Shut up,” Shachi yells, which is very un-Shachi like. He does yell, but he doesn’t yell at Penguin. 

But his yelling immediately devolves into coughing into his fist and Penguin turns on Kid, who’s getting up off the floor.

“You,” Penguin shouts at him. “You rejected him?”

“What the fuck are you on about?” Kid yells back, and at the same time Shachi rushes forward, clamping his hand over Penguin’s mouth and trying to drag him out of the room.

That’s not going to fucking work though because Penguin’s mad and he’s going to be mad. 

He bites Shachi.

Shachi lets go. 

There’s crumpled flower petals on the floor around  him.

“You rejected him,” Penguin accuses. “What, so you’re just using him now, instead? He’s not good enough to date but he’s good enough to make out with!?”

Metal bits swirl through the air around them.

Shachi lets out a very quiet “oh shit” as the door slams behind them, trapping the both of them in the room with a now seething captain.

“What the fuck are you accusing me of,” Kid bellows. “I didn’t do shit. Your little crew member is the one who’s been coming onto me every time we see you! HE’S the one who initiated this, he’s the one who said no string a-fucking-tatched!” He points a metal finger at Shachi, who’s shifted to standing slightly behind Penguin, his fingers digging into Penguin’s upper arm. 

“You,” Kid shouts, pointing over Penguin’s shoulder at Shachi with an accusing finger.. “What’s your fucking problem, was this a joke to you?” 

Shachi stammers something incomprehensible but Kid continues. “What was your fucking plan, fuck the captain and then go brag to your fucking friends about it?”

“Hey,” Penguin shouts back.

He takes a step forward, held back by Shachi’s hands digging into his arm. “Don’t talk to him like that!”

Shachi, a little shakily, says, “I didn’t! I wouldn’t say shit!”

“I don’t fucking believe you,” Kid yells. “Get out and don’t fucking come back here!”

The door behind them is wrenched open, but before they can go, Shachi is collapsing onto the floor, hacking coughs wracking his frame as flame-red petals spew from his mouth and cover the wood. Penguin falls to his side but he can’t do anything to help, and this— this is so bad.

“What the fuck…” says Kid, but it’s quiet now, voice shifted to something between shock and concern. 

And then, suddenly, Killer is there. Scooping up Shachi’s shaking form and taking him out of the room. Penguin follows, not knowing what else to do. This feels like his fault.

— 

The infirmary on the Victoria Punk is colourful and crowded like the rest of the ship, but the cot Shachi rests on is clean and sparse.

UK has made him tea, something in it to help soothe his throat and keep the plant in his lungs at bay.

Killer and Kid are both there, sitting on mismatched chairs, silent and serious.

Despite feelings like he’s in deep shit, Penguin wasted no time in crawling onto the cot with Shachi as soon as he could, wrapping himself around him like he could protect him. Shachi didn’t protest (he rarely does) but he’s not making eye contact, staring down at the tea in his hands.

“I think your ship’s surgeon will be a better fit than I am to get that thing out of your lungs,” UK says after looking Shachi over. “Should be a simple enough operation. Only complication is that you’ll forget the, uh, target of the affections.” He looks sideways at Kid.

Kid continues to look fucking livid, but he’s stewing in silence, shoulder to shoulder with Killer, who’s donned his mask and is giving little away.

After UK takes his leave, Shachi downs his tea in silence, coughing only a few stray petals.

“We should leave,” he says.

Penguin’s about to agree but Kid interrupts them. “No you fucking should not,” he says, leaning forward and pushing Shachi’s chest back down with one hand. “I know you well enough to know that if you leave you’re never coming back here.”

Penguin lets out a low whistle. He’s not wrong.

“What was your plan?” Kid asks. “Just fuck around with me until I fall in love with you?”

“Fucking Christ,” Shachi mumbles, his voice raw. “Of course not!” Then, quieter. “Just planned on doing it as long as I could, then… getting the surgery when I couldn’t handle it anymore.”

Penguin frowns. “You weren’t ever going to tell him?” he asks.

“No!” Shachi shouts. “I’m not naive, Peng! I know this wouldn’t have had a fairy tale ending! I just wanted to— to indulge as long as I could.” He peters off, staring into his cup again.

Kid is back to looking furious but Killer leans forward before he can say anything. “For clarity’s sake,” he says, his voice shockingly even next to Kid’s. “Why wouldn’t this have had the ‘fairy tale ending’?”

Shachi looks at him confused. “Because?” he says, like it’s obvious.

When it seems like no one is on his page, he points to Kid. “He’s a captain? He’s not just a captain, he’s a Worst Generation captain! He— he owns this fucking ship! He’s one of the most powerful men in the world and he’s got a sickass devil fruit. And listen, I know I’m hot. But I’m not, like,” he gestures to Killer. “I’m not even first mate! I’m just some guy!”

“Hey—” Penguin starts to argue but Shachi shuts him down. 

“Peng it’s not about being hot or whatever. A captain, especially a Worst Generation captain, can’t just date a scrawny fucking nobody. It’ll fuck up his image! He’s gotta strike fear into the heart of the Marines!”

He coughs and a few stray petals come out. “That’s why Law can date Luffy but Kid can’t date me, even though I’m objectively much sexier than Luffy.”

“Ehhh,” Penguin says while Killer makes an uncertain hand motion.

“Anyway, this has been good,” Shachi says.“I’m going to go now before I can embarrass myself more. Gonna go get the dumb surgery and then make out with Hakugan or something until I feel better.”

He goes to stand up but is almost immediately pushed back down by a slightly crumpled metal bar levitating through the air and attaching itself over the bed.

“Shut up,” Kid says, pointing his finger accusingly at Shachi. “You talk too fucking much, you know that?”

Shachi gives him the middle finger. “Well you use too much tongue when you kiss.”

“Your teeth are too sharp to bite my neck, UK made me get a rabies shot,” Kid shoots back. “Shut up. Your reasoning is stupid.”

“My reasoning is not stupid,” Shachi argues back flippantly.

“I don’t give a flying fuck what the marines or anyone else thinks of who I date,” Kid says. “That’s a dumbass thought process and you’re dumb as fuck for thinking it.” His scowl deepens. “And you’re dumb as fuck for being such a coward that you weren’t even going to tell me! What kind of idiot lets himself almost die for the sake of a good fuck?”

“Many people,” Shachi says petulantly.

“Shut the fuck up. You’re an idiot. If you get that surgery, I’ll kill you.”

Shachi gapes at him. “What the hell?” he says. “You just want me to die, then? Gonna choke on some flower petals, is that metal enough for you?”

“No you fuckskull, I want you to stop being a fucking coward and ask me out!”

Killer has his head in his hands.

Shachi fishmouths at him. “Well maybe I don’t want to do it right now!”

“Yes you do,” Penguin says soothingly, well aware of how much of an idiot Shachi can become when he gets mad. He’s also been sort of uncomfortably trapped on his side by the bar Kid has stuck over the bed. “Please be sensible and just ask out the pirate captain known for murder.”

Shachi scoffs, throwing his hands up. “Fine,” he says. “Even though it’s a dumb decision on your part if you say yes, will you go out with me, Captain Kid?”

“Yeah,” Kid shouts. “For some reason I like your scrawny ass, so i will!”

Killer’s head is somehow more in his hands.

“Fine.” shouts Shachi. “Move this bar so I can make out with your dumb face, then!”

The bar moves very quickly.

Shachi is on Kid’s lap almost as fast.

Penguin makes eye contact (probably) with Killer through the mask. “Can we be… somewhere else?” He asks.

Killer nods. “Please,” he says.

They evacuate the infirmary and close the door firmly behind them.

“They’re going to have sex in there,” Penguin says.

Killer nods in agreement. “They’re going to have sex everywhere.”

A thought occurs to Penguin as they make their way to the upper deck. “Oh, Law is not going to be happy about this.”

Killer snorts. “Your captain isn’t happy about anything.”

Well that’s true.

The rest of the day is spent dodging bits of metal debris that levitate and shoot off at the most alarming of moments. Penguin learns that this means Kid is “extremely happy”. 

He hates having this knowledge. 

Shachi will love it.

[brittlecakes92]

The choke hold, and I truly mean the fucking choke hold this man has me in... it should be crime. Truly. Just.... mmmm... mmm...mm...mmm

It seemed like there was a celebration every night at the palace, nobles coming to trying to gain influence from the Royal family. The General and his army weren't left out in this, everyone knew of the prowess of General Shao, and his second in command, Reiko. You had watched countless attempts of women throwing themselves at his feet, trying to gain favor in anyway they could. Not that you could blame them, it still didn't stop you from feeling frustrated and heated at the display. 

Reiko sat next to you a scowl on his face as he ate his food. He could name a list of things that he would much rather being doing then this. Training, preparing, making sure the soldiers were ready, anything but being here. You excused yourself to grab a pitcher of wine to bring back to refill your cups, missing how his crystal blue eyes followed your every move. 

What you didn't expect when you reached the table was for a noble to drunkenly make advances towards you. Whispering, or shouting honeyed words to you. You played it off with a laugh and a reminder that he was drunk, he came back with promises that he was fine and not drunk in the slightest. 

"How a beautiful flower like you is here unattended is a shame, I would never - A hiccup leaving his mouth as soon as he got it out- let you out of my sight." You raised a brow at him, and his slurred words before shaking your head.

Reiko clenched his teeth hard as he watched the scene play out in front of him, his nostril flaring in a sneer . You were his and the fact that someone felt the need to be that close to you, and trying to sweet talk you was putting him on high alert. Shao watched him from the corner of his eye quietly before turning back to his food taking note of how his hand would clench around his glass before he would relax it and squeeze it again.

"I promise I can give you a night that you will remember for the rest of your life." You rolled your eyes this time, taking a deep, calming breath before speaking. Being nice and avoiding his advances wasn't cutting it.

"A tempting offer, but one I will have to decline. If you will excuse me." Giving him a charming smile your tried to side step him, you almost dropped the pitcher in your hands when you were being jerked to a halt when he grabbed your arm and pulled you back. You were about to say something else, when the sound of glass breaking caught the attention of many. 

Reiko's breaths came out sharp from his nose. He hadn't noticed the sharp slice of glass cutting into the palm of his hand. He watched you jerk out of the nobles hold and make your way to him, his eye's never leaving that of the nobles. 

"Reiko.. What happened?" You reached forward to carefully take his larger hand into the palm of yours before turning it over and inspecting the damage. Clicking your tongue you started pulling him up from his seat telling him you needed to clean his wound. 

Reiko tried to protest, moving to jerk his hand from your hold but you weren't having it, insistently pulling on his hand for him to stand up, when he finally complied you lead him out of the dinning hall and down to the closest bathroom. 

When you reached the candle lit bathroom you guided Reiko to sit on the edge of the bathtub, his stare boring holes into the wall in front of him, you took note of how his breaths were coming out in sharp bursts. When you had found all that you needed you made your way to where he was seated, tapping his leg for him to spread it to give you room to stand between them. You took his hand once more, and Reiko's eyes were transfixed on your every move. The warmth of your hands on his calming him down slightly.

"You want to tell me what that was about?" You stared removing any shards of glass that remained in his cut or on his hand carefully as you waited for his reply. Reiko rested his forearm on his thigh before slouching forward slightly; "I wasn't pleased with how that noble put his filthy hands on you. He was making a fool of himself already but as soon as he did that.." You raised a brow as you looked at him, not overlooking the pause he had to take. A cloth with disinfectant on it was now being rubbed carefully over his cut, you couldn't help the small smile that started to form on your face. Reiko took note of it too, his pale blue eyes studying your face. 

"What is that look for?" He didn't like it. You gave him a quick glance before licking your lips and reaching for a clean gauze and some wrappings. Your face adorning a puzzled expression. 

"Wait a minuet.. are you jealous? Over something like that?" Reiko gave you a scowl and you tried to stifle your laughter as you finished wrapping his hand, bringing it up to your lips to place a kiss on the palm, you carefully placed it on your hip before grabbing his other hand and doing the same, causing him to straighten up as you leaned further into him, your fingers running through the buzzcut portion of his hair felt like velvet against your finger tips.

"Reiko- your voice was sweet, at the call of his name his grasp tightened on you- Who's chambers is it that I sleep in at night? -you began to lean further into him after each question- Who's arms do I fall asleep in? And who's cock will be buried so deeply between my thighs tonight that I won't even be able to think straight?" You moved your hands down to rest on his cheeks before tilting his head back a little further, leaning down until your nose brushed against his, your lips teasing against his as you spoke. 

"You are the one that I want.. so there is no need to be jealous. There is nothing a noble, or anyone for that matter can offer that would take my affections from you." You didn't give him a chance to respond as you slotted your lips with his, Reiko pulling your tighter against him as he met your heated kiss. Pulling back you rested your forehead against his as a content sigh passed your swollen lips. 

[suchalonelysunflower]

Den of Vipers

Sinners and Saints: Chapter 1

Pairing: Mafia! Ashton Irwin x Fem! Hemmings! Reader

Word count: 5.8 k

Summary: Devastating news forces you to knock on the door of the last person you’d ever want to see.

Warnings: Death, murder, blood, guns, mentions of drugs, abuse, torture, kidnapping, language. Some gramatical errors (English is not my first language, I’m sorry)

Author’s Note: Hiya! Welcome to my new series. I won’t have a taglist anymore, so any way you can support this, whether it is a reblog, comment or like, would be very much appreciated ❤️ Hope you like it and Happy reading 🌻✨❤️

Series Masterlist

The roaring sound of the engine could be heard from your room, distracting you from the book you were so comfortably reading. A smile crossed your features as you jumped out of bed and made your way outside.

The sun was starting to set with the golden hour on the horizon. The image of your brother’s back walking out the door welcomed you for just a moment before you decided to jump on him, immediately making him drop the small amount of luggage he was carrying.

“Since when do you leave without saying goodbye?” You laughed, perfectly koaling your way along his broad back.

The perks of being a little sister: you’re never too old or too heavy for piggyback rides from your siblings.

Luke groaned a laugh “Since I figured I could be free from your ass a few minutes longer”

You jumped off him “You don’t mean that”

“Of course not,” He smiled, pulling you into a hug. “I was going to go up to your room in a few minutes”

It was always like this when he had to leave. Ever since he started helping your father at work, he’s been gone most of the time, barely having any time for you. It was no secret that Luke was your favorite amongst your brothers, nor did he hide the fact that you were his favorite as well. It was just the way it is, having just two years distancing you of age he became your best friend from the beginning. And it was not like you were allowed many friends either - or rather, no one wanted to be your friend because of your last name.

Luke got that, everyone in the family did. But growing up made it harder for you than your brothers. Being the only girl in the family does that.

“How long are you leaving this time?”

Luke sighed “Dad said it’s only for a week, but you know him”

“So I should expect you by the end of the month” You answered him, trying to hide the hurt in your smile “Can’t you come back early? At least for a few days?”

“Why?” He asked with a puzzled expression “Is there something important happening or…?” You punched him, he laughed “Of course I’ll try to be here for your birthday, little thunder”

And if Luke said he would try, he meant it.

He kissed your forehead before a loud honk could echo throughout the house.

“Someone’s impatient” You rolled your eyes.

“We gotta love him” Luke shrugged, grabbing his luggage and giving you one last look “Take care, Y/N”

“You, too! I’ll see you when you get back”

“I’ll bring you a present!”

You stayed at the door until you watched the car disappear through the gates. Little did you know what would happen next.

*

The brain works in funny ways. Always reminding you of things you would rather forget.

It’s been a week since “it” happened, but there wasn’t a day where you didn’t relieve it at least once.

The rain against the window; the loud knocks on the door. You were sitting in the kitchen, putting the last candles on your birthday cake, anxious about the promise Luke made you as you looked at the clock. How did they let the police just pass through the gate like that? Maybe the guards knew it was urgent. How you walked down the hall, careful just to eavesdrop without being noticed, just in time to watch your mother fall to her knees, her beautiful party dress ruined as the most horrifying sound left her mouth.

Then, it was all a blur.

People dressed in black. Your father having meetings after meetings behind closed doors, always catching your eye before the familiar click of the lock filled the silence. How the rain felt against your skin as the casket containing your brother's body was lowered down to the ground, never to be seen again. Your mother’s tears. The fake “I’m sorry for your loss” speeches. Your father's stone-cold expression as his hand covered your shoulder with some sort of affection. The silence that came afterward.

But it couldn’t end like that. It wasn’t right.

“We need to find him,” You told your father after the funeral.

He was sitting behind his desk, looking the oldest you’ve ever seen him. His eyes weren’t even focusing on you, almost as if he were also lost.

The first time he lost a son, Ben, your oldest brother, it made him cold as ice. It helped him build the empire he had now, grown on the blood of the enemies he took down along the way. You were just a child then, not older than thirteen, but you remember how fast things started to change. How friends stopped being friends, how business never meant the same thing again, how your mother stopped smiling as the jewels in her chest started growing.

But this is different.

“Dad,” You begged, hating how you sounded like a little kid again.

“There is nothing we can do, Y/N,” He said, coldly.

That’s who Robert Hemmings was, never sugarcoating anything. He tried, albeit your mother’s begging, to keep you out of the know of the family business. You were their only daughter, their little Angel, what good would it do to drag you into this world of madness and blood? It seemed like she didn’t know you at all.

“So you’re just going to sit there and do nothing?!” Your voice rose with every word.

Your father didn’t dignify you with a response, instead, he chose to sit back and close his eyes. For the first time in years, you realized just how old your father was getting. The creases upon his face were as deep as the dark circles under his eyes. His white hair was getting thinner by the hour, and the spots on his skin seemed to be growing.

For a second you wondered just how much time it had passed since you saw him smile, since you spent time with him like you used to when you were a little kid. But you were not a kid anymore, and the man in front of you did not seem like your father at all.

He seemed tired, he probably was after all of this. But you were tired as well, tired of so, so many things that you were done keeping quiet for.

“He is still out there,” You said, more quietly this time “I know he is”

“Y/N…” He sighed, rubbing the pads of his fingers on his temple, trying hard to come up with the right words before he exploded in a fit of anger as he usually does with his subordinates “You heard what the police said. You read the reports even though we told you not to-”

“The reports said they only found one body, dad. One!” You wanted to scream, to shake some sense back into him but for what? You could already see the lost battle before it even began “Maybe Luke wasn’t in the car, maybe-”

“The car was completely burned out! They found his jewelry, some bones- Y/N I don’t know how else to tell you! They’re dead!”

“Jack is dead,” You said somberly “Jack’s body is the only one that they found. Jack’s the one six feet below. Not Luke”

Robert sat back in his chair, shaking his head as you continued with your ranting.

“The bones couldn’t be identified, so it could be one poor soul that got the short end of the stick. It could be one of the collateral damage, as you call them, right dad? Could be fucking anyone! Luke could still be out there, he could be in trouble and we’re sitting here doing nothing-!”

A loud bang interrupted you. Your father’s fist was tense over his desk after he banged on it, not caring about the glass of water that tipped over and was now spilling over the edge of the mahogany. The vein on his neck was trembling as well as his jaw, but his eyes weren’t focused on you. Instead, he looked down, eyes wide and unreadable with every emotion hidden and swallowed by his pride.

Still, that didn’t scare you.

“Jack would’ve wanted for us to find him”

“Don’t you fucking talk about your brother” Robert spat.

“Someone has to!” You stood up, letting the foot of the chair drag against the floor. You have never stood up to your father before, but it was time to change some things around the Hemmings' household “You know I’m right”

“Y/N, Luke is dead,” He said, finally looking straight at you. The helplessness in his eyes took you by surprise “The sooner you accept it, the better. The ceremony for his remains will be-”

“No! That’s not him!” You nearly cried, but you promised yourself not to. Not in front of him. Not ever “I’m not going to mourn a stranger standing in his place”

Your father just shook his head, letting his hands distract him as he sorted out the papers on his desk.

“Dad,” You demanded his attention, leaning over his desk “Dad!”

No response, no reaction.

“Fine,” You said, voice laced with anger “I’ll go find someone who will pay attention to me”

You started to walk away, not looking back as your nails dug into the flesh of your palm, cutting the skin to distract you from crying out of rage and disappointment. This was not how you expected he would react. You didn’t expect him to give up just like that.

The merciless boss of one of the biggest mafia rings in the country… giving up for his son.

“Y/N,” He called out before you closed the door behind you, making you stop in your tracks but you refused to look at him “I’m thinking of selling the business”

Those words left you frozen in place, a drop of cold sweat dripping down your back as you turned to him, clear fear in your eyes.

“What?”

Robert, stoic as usual, didn’t look up as he signed over something.

“The Luccas made an offer” He explained in so little detail “I believe it’ll be for the best”

“For the best?!” You scoffed, feeling completely betrayed. A new low you believed your father could never be able to reach “For the best of whom? Your conscience? Breaking news, dad. You don’t have one. Cause if you did, you would never-”

You pressed your lips together, shushing the lump in your throat that threatened to escape in a sob. You took a deep breath and turned to your father.

“I hope you know this is the last time I’ll ever talk to you again if you dare to sell it to them. To him”

“That’s not your decision to make”

“Then consider me dead along with the rest of your children. You’re good at that”

The banging on the door was heard all over the house along with your shoes stomping on the floor.

*

He could laugh. Was it possible that they were that stupid?

It wasn’t a rare occurrence for Calum Hood and Michael Clifford to come at him for help, but really? Drugs?

“This has to be the stupidest thing you’ve ever asked me,” He said, both Calum and Michael shifted a little in their seats.

There they were, sitting in comfortable velvety cushion seats with leather handles; drinking a whiskey that was probably older than them; hands adorned with expensive jewelry and dressed in the finest suits they could afford. And they were afraid.

It was normal, of course, to feel intimidated by him. After all, his reputation preceded him as one of the deadliest men in the country. His successful deals gave him millions, and the ones that weren’t as successful still made him a threat. Men feared him or wanted to be him. Women fell at his feet on their knees and not just to beg for mercy.

There was no wonder why he was nicknamed “Lucifer” given that his eyes resembled the evil and cruelty of Alexander Cabanel’s painting. There was no good left in him, not that anyone knew. Not that he would show proof of that.

Ashton Irwin was a proud man, a respectable man. And the two men in front of him knew it, so why waste their time?

Both Calum and Michael were famous around town as well. The prodigal son, Calum Hood, became a household name after he took on the family business after holding his father at gunpoint to sign the papers for him. Soon, he enlisted Michael Clifford, a wizard in technology and heir to his own fortune - albeit a bit small - as his right-hand man. They made themselves known in the business, and even Ashton had to admit that it was surprising how quickly they went up the ladder amongst the other families he knew. But, as any rookies, they made a few mistakes and asked a lot of favors that they were now trying to amend.

“Calum, how’s your girl?” Ashton asked, leaning back on his chair, pretending that their request was never asked in the first place “Still running that bookshop back on Seventh Street?”

The smirk on Ashton’s face might not have meant anything else but a taunt to Calum. But the latter didn’t like the way he said it, almost as if he knew that his girl was his only weakness.

“She’s good” He answered, trying not to give him the satisfaction of seeing him affected.

Ashton hummed, looking at the third guy who was standing near the mirror on the wall.

“It’s not nice to bring security and bodyguards for a talk with friends,” He said.

“Is that what we are?” Michael asked, “Is that what we’re doing?”

“You tell me, Clifford. Cause I know for sure that if you came to me as partners then we wouldn’t even have this conversation” Calum opened his mouth to speak but Ashton silenced him “Because as you know, I don’t make deals with lost causes, and right now I’m seeing two in front of me”

“Ashton-”

“There’s a thing called “unsaid agreements” in this business, Calum, I know you’re familiar with that. And that is we don’t shit where we eat. We don’t sell drugs in this city, we don’t make deals with the locals, and for fuck’s sake we don’t owe favors to the ones that don’t comply with this agreement” He pointed his finger at the two men in front of him “And you two fuckers did the three things together”

“Well, what choice did we have?!” Calum asked “The Luccas were threatening to take over our territory and-”

“And I don’t give a fuck about the Lucass’” Ashton spat “In fact…”

In one swift move, he took a gun under his desk and shot the security guard right in the head.

“WHAT THE-”

“FUCKING CHRIST”

The two men yelled and jumped as the gun went off. Splatters of blood could be found in their clothing and faces, but nothing compared to the smear of blood and brains that now dropped from the mirror. Ashton, as usual, sat back in his chair with a smirk and hid the gun. Not a single drop of blood hit him or his desk.

“WHY THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT FOR?!” Calum yelled, trying to wipe the blood from his clothes, showcasing his lack of knowledge of the business.

“Cause he was wearing a microphone you jackass!” Ashton spat “Hidden on the belt, look it up”

Michael leaned down and he in fact found a small microphone hidden behind the buckle. He sighed as he showed it to Calum. The two men looked back at Ashton with tired looks filled with anger and embarrassment.

“Another advice,” He said “Don’t fucking invite newbies to “important” meetings”

“You think you’re so smart…”

“I know I’m smart, Hood, and I’m the best there is in this business so don’t you fucking forget it. There’s a reason you came to me and not to the bloody Bermans” He got up and walked up to Calum, grabbing his chin and pulling his closer “I’m the only chance you have but I don’t even know if you two idiots deserve it. So, admit it, Hood”

Calum rolled his eyes, but Ashton tightened his grip.

“Say it” He nearly whispered, looking straight into his eyes.

“Jesus fuck, fine. We need you, okay?”

Ashton smiled, letting go of Calm and patting him on the cheek “Atta boy”

Just in time, someone knocked on the door before opening it. A young blond girl dressed in a white crop top and leather pants peaked inside, only showing half of her body but her whole face.

“Sir?”

“Lauren, not now”

“There’s someone here to see you”

Ashton rolled his eyes “I don’t have time for it right now. Whatever or whoever it is, it can wait till at least for the cleaning to come up”

“I don’t think it can wait, sir. She’s very insistent. I’ve been trying to hold her back for twenty minutes now” Ashton gave her a look that made her roll her eyes “She says her name is angel and that it’s urgent”

Ashton perked up at the name. Slowly biting the inside of his cheek, he nodded and turned back toward his desk.

He clicked his tongue before looking toward Michael and Calum, and then back to his assistant.

“Bring her in and send the cleaning team to at least remove that idiot, please” Lauren nodded and closed the door. He looked at his desk, putting away some papers as he nonchalantly said “You two, out”

“What?!”

“This isn’t over, Irwin-”

“Yes, Clifford it is” He stared at them but barely raised his head “Now get the fuck out before I make you”

Ashton could only hear a string of murmured curses and then the door closing with a bang. He smirked, “Angel,” He whispered to himself in a singing, mocking tone “What have you gotten into”

*

The blonde girl looked familiar. Her smile showed some kindness that you weren’t used to seeing around these places, even when you first encountered her behind the bar. She didn’t ask questions other than your name and the reason for your sudden visit.

“He doesn’t see people without a previous appointment,” She said, handing one more beer to the drunken men who slurred their thank you’s to her.

“What, is he a doctor?” You chuckled humorlessly, but the girl didn’t laugh along with you. her bright blue eyes just showed pity and understanding. You sighed “Look, tell him is angel, he’ll see me”

The girl shrugged “I can’t promise you anything, doll. Just wait here”

Once she was out of sight through a backdoor, you took your time to scan the place. Ashton did outsell himself with this one.

“The Den of Vipers” was the most popular club in the city, having opened ten years ago when Ashton took over the family business, it was still filled with clients who wanted to get lost for a while. Ashton was good at making people disappear, and it showed. This place screamed his name wherever you would look.

The floor was a dark marble with white gold lines separating the tiles. There were booths against the walls, all made of velvet cushions and leather. The lights were low, and changing from blue to purple, to green and then white again as the music played, it was impossible to keep track of the people there thanks to it. The bar itself was made of bulletproof glass, standing proudly and mockingly in the middle of the dancefloor, surrounded by different bodies lost in the mindless music the DJ of the night put on, almost in trance and unaware of the things that happened behind the scenes.

Of course, this whole charade of a humble business owner was just Ashton’s front to the authorities - even though they always seemed to be on his side, many times you heard your father complain about it - but you knew the reality. In fact, you were sure that when the girl came back, you’d be led through the backdoor and into the real building. You’d walk through careful hallways that will eventually lead you to the owner’s real office.

And that is exactly what happened once she came back and guided you through cushioned, sound-proofed walls covered in dark green velvet. The lights of the halls were dimmed, giving the feeling of being watched at all times like a haunted house. And you wouldn’t have been surprised if that was the case, after all, Ashton could be anything but careless when it came to a negotiation.

Which is exactly why you’re here.

When you got to the door of his office, you didn’t need to knock as the door opened immediately. Two guys dressed in black came out carrying a bodybag, leaving the door open. You rolled your eyes because, of course, Ashton would make a big show.

“I’ll take it from here,” You said to the girl, giving her a small smile that she mirrored.

The first thing you saw when you came into the office was the desk. It had nothing but some papers and a lamp, no sign of family pictures or hobbies. It was common for the “big bosses” to keep their workplaces clean of any personal relationships, but coming from Ashton it seemed pretentious - at least for you.

The mirror still had blood stains on it and you could tell they were still fresh, even so you didn’t look twice. Blood and guts are not something that shocks you anymore, and that realization came with a whole can of worms you weren’t ready to open up yet. There were some stains on the floor and what you could assume was gunpowder residue, so you were careful not to step on those.

“I’d apologize for the mess, princess. But you and I both know it doesn’t matter”

You turned to find Ashton with his back facing you as he fixed a drink on his personal mini-bar. His broad shoulders and back were covered with the finest of suits - from Milan, everyone and their mothers wore clothes from Milan - his hair was longer than the last time you saw him.

When he turned around, however, it seemed like nothing had changed.

He looked mature, of course, twelve years can do that to someone. But his eyes were still the same shade of hazel you remember, only a bit more sadist. He looked good, and somehow you hated that. It was time to put the past in the past where it belonged and stop the memories before they cloud your mind. Still, something inside you kept telling you, urging you to let yourself go. What did it matter how he looked? But that thought came late for the half smile he wore as he walked up to you, made you realize that he caught you staring.

“Here,” He said, handing you a glass of whiskey and coke. How’d he know your favorite drink? that was a question for another time “I assume you’re a big girl now, princess”

You glared at him as you swallowed the whole glass in one go, never taking your eyes off him and his unimpressed look.

“‘m not a princess” You said, dryly “And I can make my own drink, thank you”

You pushed past him and walked toward the mini bar, fixing yourself another drink. It was clear that you didn’t need it, your mind was screaming and begging for you to keep a clear head while you were ahead and in front of Lucifer himself. But something in his smile… the way his eyes still treated you like a child, so condescending, brought something in you. A chance to prove yourself in front of him.

All your life you had to prove yourself in front of men like him. In front of women who think they were better than you because their hands didn’t get dirty as yours did. In front of your parents. Of Luke… How long until they realize that you are where you belong?

Once you finished making your drink you turned back to Ashton. His eyes roamed your body, shamelessly, he licked his lips briefly before a smug grin adorned his face, eyes looking straight at you.

“I can see that,” He said, leaning against his desk “So, angel, haven’t heard from you in a while”

You rolled your eyes “Don’t call me that”

“You’ve never seemed to mind it before”

“I’m not here to reminisce about the olden days, Irwin” You spat.

Ashton whistled “So the bitch can bark! Impressive. Who would’ve thought that the balls of the Hemmings family were hiding behind their youngest?” Your face turned red in anger as your fingers tensed around the glass. Ashton noticed and tauntingly walked toward you with a smirk and leaning to whisper in your ear “But guess what? Y/N, you still can’t bite”

Your body became hot at his proximity. The smell of his cologne filled your surroundings as the rage - or something else, something new - inside your stomach kept boiling. But before you could push him away, he was already pulling apart and going back to sit at his desk.

“Tell me, Y/N, what is a Hemmings doing here all by herself? Has daddy finally kicked you out?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, looking down unable to meet his eyes. You can’t believe you’re doing this, not with him. But there wasn’t any other choice.

“I need help,” You said, hating how those words sounded coming from you.

“Everybody does” He shrugged “Doesn’t mean they’re going to get it-”

“Ashton,” You finally looked back at him. The urgency of your voice and the fact that you called him by his name for the first time since you came here, took him by surprise as he listened “Jack’s dead”

Ashton’s eyes remained unchanged at your words, looking straight at you while his fingers played with his rings on the opposite hand. From his reaction, it was hard to guess that once upon a time he and the Hemmings’ siblings were inseparable, Jack being the closest of age to him and one of his first friends. Your eyes begged for him to do something, say something. To show you any indication that he might help.

The bond between your family and his broke a long time ago. You were barely a child, but you knew there was no going back to the summers filled with laughter and joy you all shared. In the blink of an eye - or at least that’s what it felt like as a child - The Irwins and the Hemmings were sworn enemies. And the friendship you had with Ashton vanished in thin air.

You and Luke took it the hardest, begging your mother to help you call the Irwin household so you could talk to Ash. Never understanding why suddenly her eyes filled with tears as she shook her head no and told you to play something else.

“He hates us,” Luke said to you once. It was another boring afternoon after you suggested calling him again. But Luke’s eyes were cold as ice, scaring you as he said “And we hate him”

And for a while that was it. You weren’t going to go against your brother, so the subject was finally dropped and you haven’t seen Ashton since. Or at least that’s what everyone thought.

But now, years after the fallout, you were hoping somehow that those words were a lie. Maybe Ashton could still hold some kind of fond memory of your families together. Anything to make you believe he might help you.

“My condolences,” He said after a while, no emotion hidden in his voice.

His comment made you angry, “Is that it?”

“What else do you want me to say?” He shrugged “People die every day, Y/N, it just the way it is”

“He was murdered”

“Shocker” Ashton scoffed with sarcasm “He was never the brightest of lads.”

“It was an ambush,” You said, unable to stop. “They were driving back home in the middle of the night when a string of bullets came raining down on the vehicle. Jack could barely escape before they found him and slit his throat. They burned the car afterward. And Luke-... Luke’s missing, Ashton”

Ashton nodded, pressing his lips in a thin line “He’s probably dead”

“No, he’s not”

And maybe it was because of your determination, or the look in your eyes when you said it, almost as if you believed it. But Ashton grinned at your statement.

“No,” He said, “He’s not”

A small breath of relief escaped your lips. Finally, somebody believed you.

“Would you help me?”

“No”

“What?!”

Ashton shrugged “Why would I help you, little Hemmings? What makes you so entitled to come here and ask for my help after what your family did?”

“My family?” It caught you off guard, what did he know that you didn’t?

“And why aren’t they helping to find their beloved golden child?” Ashton mocked, standing up and circling his desk until he was once again in front of you “All the stories we hear about the young, promising Hemmings… I’m sure they were not talking about you”

You felt your cheeks heat up at the comment, grip tightening around the glass, nearly breaking it.

“I am shocked that they didn’t start a search party already. Has daddy Hemmings opened his eyes to his karma yet? Why should I care? Matter of fact, why should you?”

“He’s my brother,”

“Cute. Not enough, but thanks for trying” He nodded toward the door “See yourself out, angel. This isn’t your castle”

Ashton turned around, not even giving you a second glance. Your hand reached out to him, grabbing him by the arm and making him stop. There were probably a few people who could do that to him, even fewer the ones who were still alive to tell the story. He turned his eyes toward you, curiosity and anger hidden in those hazel marbles staring back at you and then at your hand on his arm.

The tension was clear, but it was a little too late to rethink that mistake. If this was your only shot, then you had to take it. You owe that much to Luke.

“I- I have no one, Ash,” You said, looking down, ashamed of your statement and how weak you sounded.

Ashton didn’t say a word, he didn’t move away either. He stood there, waiting for you to continue. And for the first time in a long time, you felt relieved that someone was at least willing to listen.

“I left them,” You told him, looking straight into his eyes “I left my family because they did not believe me. They can’t find Luke, they won’t even try. He’s the only person I have left and I won’t rest until I find him, with or without your help”

Ashton grinned maniacally, a shadow appearing in his eyes as he looked down at you. Now you understand why they called him Lucifer. For he once was one of God's most beautiful angels, but temptation and his own ego were his doom. And, as he leaned down, you couldn’t help but be entranced by that wicked smile as he said, nearly whispering.

“And what are you willing to do, angel?”

It was a challenge, you could see it in his eyes. A bait to lure you into a trap. And you took it.

“Anything”

Ashton’s smile widened as he freed himself from your grasp and walked over to his desk to grab a set of keys, pressing a little button on it.

“If I’m going to help you, little Hemmings - and I’m not saying I will just yet - you’ll have to resign your name and what comes with it. I’ll be dead before I help a Hemmings out of the sheer kindness of my heart”

You rolled your eyes “You don’t have a heart, Irwin. Is that all you want? I told you I left my father”

“I don’t need a rogue princess fumbling with my business” Ashton scoffed, “So whatever I say goes. You’re working for me, Hemmings, not the other way around” He walked closer to you again, his chest nearly hitting yours “If I say go, you go. If I say we stop, you stop. If I say get out of my sight, you better pray your little feet move fast. I don’t care who you are, what you are, or what you represent. If you fuck with me, I’ll fuck right back. And I go hard, angel. No intentions of having any kind of mercy. Understood?”

You challenged him with a look, trying to figure him out. But time was running out, and you didn’t have any other option.

“Yes.” You said, dryly.

Ashton clicked his tongue “Yes, what?”

“Don’t push it, Irwin” You took a step back “So, we have a deal?”

The doors to the office opened and two large, muscly men dressed in suits came in and stood quietly but threatening at the door. You crooked an eyebrow and looked back at Ashton.

“Friends of yours?”

“Acquaintances,” He said, walking over to them and getting out the door, only stopping for a second “You comin’?”

The two men walked behind you as you followed Ashton through the halls that first brought you there. The image of his broad shoulders walking under the low lights and out toward the club shielded you from any distractions. He would sometimes glance over his shoulder, a teasing smile pulling at the corner of his lips when he noticed you were still walking a few steps behind him.

People at the club were sweaty and unashamed. Bodies grinding against one another and along the beat of a dark EDM song. Some women and boys would walk up to Ashton, letting their hands grace the skin of his face and neck or arms as they each seductively said hello to him. It seemed as if they were enchanted by him, moved by a spell of lust as their eyes would meet his. They wanted him, they all wanted him. Ashton would smile, say their names, and acknowledge them with a hello before moving to another person, another step toward the exit.

Ashton led you through a door that led to another dark hallway. The music sounded muffled through the walls, blocking your ears at the sudden change of environment. Ashton walked a few steps ahead before he stopped and turned around toward you, hands in his pockets as he looked at you and grinned.

“Now what?” You asked, annoyed “Any other fan of yours that we need to greet?”

Ashton chuckled and shook his head.

“No, just precautions”

“Precautions? Why would you-”

“Sorry, angel”

And with a snap of his fingers, the world went black.

*

[montrealmadison]

Congratulations on 400 followers! I’m newish to the fandom and your blog was one of the first I followed!

Pair: Nursey/Dex

Song: 28

Vibes: first date (can include smut if it fits in)

Congratulations again!!!!

thank you so much and welcome to the fandom!! this is only the second time i've written nurseydex and it's an honor to do so for you ❤️ i did not manage to squeeze the smut in but i did provide the lead-up so i hope that's acceptable. please enjoy these banana nut muffins being dorky and awkward on their two first dates

28. nurseydex + first date + I Love You More Than You Think by Rizzie Kicks for @hrtstppr95

I think that we know that we know each other really well I know I wanna know you for the rest of my life Because no matter the length of time that’s gone by When I see you, it’s fine It’s like I just saw you last night 

Dex is thinking about why fancy restaurants invest in stupid shit when Nursey says, “Poindexter, I don’t think this is working.”

Their table is a good one, tucked into a private corner and partially hidden by a big potted plant. The downside to this is that apparently nobody thought to install overhead lighting in this swanky Boston seafood bar, and the candle holder—which, for some reason, is shaped like a miniature lobster wearing a chef’s coat—is doing a terrible job at casting light on the worried expression that Nursey is wearing. Dex looks down at his clenched hands in his lap and can’t help but mirror what he can see of the frown.

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God, he knew he was going to fuck this up. Dex doesn’t do a lot of standing on ceremony, but even he can admit that first dates are a big deal, that they deserve care. When Nursey had come to him with this grand plan for a fancy, candlelit dinner, his treat, he’d known it might be uncomfortable, that he might have to pretend to get it. This kind of thing isn’t him, not at all.

But it is Nursey. He looks right here, casually elegant in a blazer he doesn’t wear to games, half-empty glass in his hand with the ice clinking soft at the bottom. He’s been so excited for this, talking it up all week to anyone who’d listen. Of course it’s Dex who doesn’t fit in. Four years in this weird parallel world to the one he’s used to and he still can’t make himself take the shape of someone who belongs in both.

“No,” he agrees, eyes dropping back to his hands. There’s a long fresh scar along the base of his thumb, the brightest thing in the room. “Sorry.”

“Shit—Dex, no.”

Nursey’s hand appears in his field of view, warm and brown and stark against the tablecloth. Dex looks up, surprised, and finds Nursey’s face much better lit and clearly concerned.

“I just meant, like—you look uncomfy, dude.” He bounces the outstretched hand lightly on the table until Dex reaches up to still it with his own. “Are you having a good time?”

“Oh.” He feels wrongfooted by how much Nursey notices. “Uh, yeah, I guess… not really.” 

The thought’s only out there for half a second before he scrambles after how wrong it sounds in the air between them. “I mean, with you, yeah. But it’s, um, fancy here. Didn’t wanna… ugh, it’s stupid.”

“It’s not.” Nursey considers the watery Coke in the bottom of his glass, then drains it in one. “That’s not on you, ‘kay? I should have thought of that.”

The ensuing silent discussion, born of many years of finely honed skill at arguing silently on the ice, leads to an agreement that they need to get the hell out of here as soon as possible. Nursey flags down the server for the check; Dex lets go of Nursey’s hand on the table and spends the next ten minutes cussing out the stupid lobster, who, thankfully, does not respond.

They don’t speak again until they’re back in Nursey’s (asshole) Jeep. The parking lot is packed; the only space they’d been able to find is out in the farthest row from the restaurant, looking down the hill that faces Route 9. The air is freezing in the way that precedes a blizzard. Every leaf is crackling with frost, and even with the doors closed and the engine shuddering to life, Dex can see his breath.

He can see Nursey’s, too, when he says, “Dude, I’m really sorry.”

“S’okay.” Dex shivers. “Really. Not your fault I can’t hang.”

“Poindexter, come on.” The collar of Nursey’s sweater is folded funny over the top of his coat. Dex’s eyes stick on it. “That’s not it. I should have picked somewhere we would both have fun.”

Asshole Dex says in his head, Oh, you think? 

Civilized Human Dex, perched on his other mental shoulder, says, Hey, you agreed to this. Be an adult. 

Dex the Walking Basket Case tips his head back into the seat and wonders how long the chirps would last if he fessed up to talking to himself like this. Out loud he says, “It’s really okay, Nurse. ‘Sides, night’s young.”

Nursey turns the heat up as high as it’ll go, makes that noise that means okay, I’ll bite. He reaches over and folds Dex's fingers into the warmth of his palm, a conciliatory gesture that Dex can never admit makes him feel all soft in the middle like a homemade Bittle pie. “That’s true,” he says. “Any ideas?”

Dex leans on the cold window, lets it chill his overheated skin. Without really thinking about it, he says, “We could go skate.” 

It’s more to break the silence that’s fallen than anything else. When he turns back around, though, it’s to find Nursey looking at him with interest.

“What, at Faber?”

“Yeah.”

“Isn’t it locked?”

Against all odds, Dex finds himself smirking. “Come on, Nurse, I’m the captain. You think I don’t have keys to our own rink?”

Nursey’s grinning too, now. This is what Dex loves and hates about him, the way it comes so easily. He never wants that to change, no matter how much he used to tell himself otherwise. Despite this failure of a night, he thinks, he’s happy.

“Well,” Nursey drawls. “‘Swawesome.”

He pulls their hands apart and squeezes Dex’s thigh twice. Dex bats him away, smile stretching despite himself, and says, “Just drive.”

---

Faber is cold and quiet, no signs of life but the hum of the heating vents far above. Dex hits the ice first, sketches a long, curving line towards the box and then back toward the bench. He can’t really see Nursey, but hears him follow through the dark just the same.

The air between them is suddenly charged, heavy. They don’t speak. They don’t even really skate together, each carving their own loops at opposite ends of the ice, watching each other out of the corners of their eyes. Dex feels oddly naked. It’s a weird combination of silk tie and suit pants and his grimy skates, marked up by the years.

He stops on the blue line, bracketed by a big white square of moonlight. The windows are gorgeous, especially without the fluorescents to compete, framing the sky and the spreading branches of the linden tree that Shitty always told the story about getting stuck in. In three or four months they’ll play their last game here, a thought that settles leaden and cold in Dex’s stomach. He watches a cloud pass over the moon. If there’s someone out there to hear him, he thinks, then let them hear him wish, desperately, for five more minutes.

Someone does hear, because there’s sudden warmth at his back. Nursey’s chin settles heavy on his shoulder, and his hands curl around Dex’s bare forearms. Dex leans back and lets Nursey hold him for no reason other than that he likes to, and Dex likes it when Nursey likes the things he does.

“Feel better?”

It’s a whisper. Dex’s whole body goes cold, then hot.

“Yes,” he says.

“Good,” says Nursey, nosing into the side of Dex’s neck. “Nice save.”

Dex shrugs and feels Nursey’s head move with him. He has the weirdest sense that the two of them have become the same being, moving in tandem, breathing as one. “I wouldn’t mind doing dinner again,” he says. “Don’t want you to think it wasn’t a good date.”

Nursey frees his thumbs from where they’re tucked under his fingers and runs his hands lightly up and down Dex’s arms. “Well, I’m flattered,” he says. “Still. We’re just two college idiots, man, no need for fine dining just yet. Sorry.”

Annoyance sparks in Dex’s gut. He was starting to enjoy this, feels like he doesn't need to be reminded every five minutes of how sorry they both are about the whole thing. “Will you stop apologizing,” he groans, and goes to turn around, but Nursey’s massive hands clamp down swiftly on his arms, and he freezes in place.

“No,” Nursey says.

Dex’s heart is suddenly slamming against his ribs, just like that. Huh. Mood officially un-killed.

“As a matter of fact,” he continues, “I was thinking about how to make it up to you.”

Oh—oh. 

Dex is not the poetry guy of the two of them, but Nursey makes him feel like that last long look before a kiss. Maybe they don’t make sense together. Maybe they’re only going to belong in each other’s lives for a little while. College relationships can be like that. But here, now, Dex is in the place where he and Nursey became a team twice, and that means something. Dex knows it does.

“Yes,” he says.

Nursey finally releases him and spins him around so they’re facing each other. He quirks an eyebrow, but he’s smiling, and the moon in his eyes is huge and bright.

“You didn’t even hear my proposition, Poindexter. I had this whole—”

Dex cuts him off with a kiss. The two of them together might not be logical or satisfying, but they’re a damn good twist ending, and besides. The night is young, and he knows what he wants.

When he says yes again, Nursey just shakes his head, laughs, and pulls him towards the tunnel to the locker room.

[garf-lover96]

alright so i wrote it, it's just kind of self indulgent because i use Rowan for basically self insert stuff. content warning for homoerotic wound stitching??....... and just blood (but it's not actually that bad).i've never posted something like this before anywhere so i kind of feel like i'm about to be burnt at the stake lol!!!! also the word count is like almost 2000 words. i kind of just freestyled this but also i watched a few wound stitching videos on youtube

and this was the idea btw, but i changed it a little after

———

He was reckless again. Of course he was. Being reckless is practically in his blood. But being reckless also comes easier when you know that getting hurt won't have lasting consequences. Ever since Julian's healing mark disappeared, he was just a—mostly—regular person again. He should've known better not to continue that little quarrel at the Red Market. Now he was walking back to the magic shop, the numerous slash wounds on his left arm hidden effectively under his coat. His thoughts raced. Making anyone worried about him was decidedly one of his worst nightmares. And now that he has someone waiting for him every evening... That obviously made it even worse. Rowan will be furious. Or devastated... He wasn't sure anymore, given how many mixed reactions he's already gotten after coming back home with any kind of injury.

He had no idea what he'd even say to him. His guilt was so overwhelming that his mind went blank every time he tried to come up with an explanation, an apology.

His breath gets a little heavier by the time the shop is in his eye's reach. Is it from the pain or the anxiety? It's so hard to tell now. He approaches the door slowly, stopping just in front of it. His hand hovers over the knob hesitantly. Come to think of it, maybe just sleeping outside would be a better idea...? No, that'd obviously make Rowan even more worried. Then his worry would turn to frustration and then... He'd have that dejected look on his face. At the very least, if he's lucky enough, maybe Rowan is already asleep and he will have the whole night to come up with something, anything. He remembers his partner complaining about a headache in the morning. It's rather reasonable that he'd want to rest sooner.

He snaps himself out of his momentary zone out session and shakes his head with a sigh. After he opens the door, he notices that there's no light inside. That would mean that Rowan is upstairs already. Maybe Julian can manage to be quiet enough just to reach the bathroom and quickly tend to his wounds? It seems like a better idea than having Rowan fuss over him. He slowly closes the door and then takes off his boots. He'll have to be completely silent. Years of experience in having to sneak around, unnoticed, definitely come in handy in situations like these. He makes an effort to take long, slow steps, leading by his heels. When he reaches the stairs, he makes sure to avoid any creaky spots on the steps. He takes another look around. He has to stop himself from sighing out of relief loudly when he notices the complete darkness around him.

He scurries over to the bathroom and shuts the door behind him, then hastily lights a nearby candle. He pulls off his eyepatch, his gloves, tosses them aside and starts peeling his overcoat off carefully. His arm is still bleeding which means that he has to grit his teeth tightly not to make even a single sound. Once he manages to get shirtless, he can assess the damages. A large, leaking gash on his upper arm and a few smaller ones on his forearm. Since he didn't have anything to stop the bleeding with previously, his whole arm has been painted red, down to his fingertips. This will be a nightmare to clean up... The longer he stares at the laceration, the more apparent it becomes that he's going to need stitches. He bites down on his lower lip while looking around the room. There has to be a needle and thread around here somewhere. After searching through some shelves and cupboards he finds what he was looking for, along with bandages for later. He pulls up a nearby stool to start on his task but the moment he sits down, it collapses right under him and he falls back on the floor. Stupid old chair... He can only manage to let out a soft, breathy whine before he hears Rowan from the bedroom.

"Julian? Are you alright?" Rowan calls, already being heard getting up from the bed and heading for the bathroom door.

Julian's voice gets stuck in his throat. His first instinct is to lie and to try and convince his partner to go back to bed, but he stops himself. This wasn't going to work from the start. Rowan would have always had to find out eventually.

A few soft knocks on the door are heard.

"Can I come in?" he asks, his tone already taking on a worried note.

Julian gets to his feet with a groan and opens the door, just peeking out of it at first.

"I'm sorry." he blurts out the second he makes eye contact with Rowan.

Rowan raises an eyebrow, then pushes the door open. Julian instinctively steps back, already raising his arms up defensively.

"This is not as bad as it looks, dear, I swear-" he starts, but gets cut off when Rowan sees all the blood.

"You told me you were going grocery shopping!" he scolds with a growing disturbed expression on his face.

"I know, I know, there was just... There was a detour and I... I remembered I'm out of leeches... The um, the Red Market..." Julian manages to stutter out in defense but Rowan's eyes are somewhere else now. Namely, they land on the needle and thread that got knocked to the floor when Julian fell.

"Darling, I just didn't want to worry you-"

"Just... Sit down."

"Where...? T-the stool is broken..."

"Then sit down on the floor!"

Julian obeys and sits cross legged on the floor with a deeply embarrassed expression. Rowan kneels down next to him.

"Er... I do need those stitches, Rowan."

"Your hands are shaking."

"W-well, you're not..." Julian exhales nervously "You're not that squeamish, are you?"

Rowan gets the implication and takes a moment to rub the bridge of his nose with a small sigh.

"I don't suppose magic can sterilize needles...?" Julian adds with an awkward chuckle.

"I could heat it up."

Julian nods, "That works."

It doesn't take much time for the equipment to be sterile again. Rowan moves to sit closer to the injury and gets the needle ready.

"You'll have to walk me through it." Rowan utters, still trying to put on a brave face.

Julian tilts his head a little "But you can sew."

"I've never had to sew up a wound!"

"I suppose that's fair..." he acknowledges "But I find it really similar to working with fabric, if that's any comfort."

"It's not."

"Nevermind that... You're familiar with the blanket stitch, right?"

"...Right."

"If you can manage that, the wound should get closed up properly."

Rowan nods and takes a deep breath to ground himself, then makes the first puncture. He can feel the warm blood on his fingers and the sickeningly metallic smell in his nose. The only sounds that can be heard are his and Julian's heavy breathing, and the soft, unnerving squelching sound of Julian's wound being sutured.

Rowan's hands are steady enough but he sniffles from time to time and wipes his eyes into his sleeves. Julian is staring at him all the while, more concerned about his mental state that his own injury. The guilt is already eating him from the inside by the time Rowan's eyes start getting glossy. The sheer embarrassment and remorse hurts infinitely more than the laceration. He starts getting a little teary-eyed himself as Rowan ties that final little knot.

Julian smiles softly as he looks down at the stitch work, hoping to lighten the mood a little already.

"Ha, you honestly missed your calling as a doctor."

He raises his eyes only to be met with Rowan's furious stare.

"...You're still mad" he notes quietly.

"You think?!" Rowan snaps and gets to his feet "You can't keep doing this!"

Julian follows suit but stumbles a little, "I didn't mean for this to happen, I just wasn't thinking."

"Of course you weren't!" Rowan agreed roughly "You know, I was worried from the start, when you started living here. I was hoping you'd make more effort to adjust properly and start actually taking care of yourself now that you finally have the chance. But it's like putting yourself in danger is the default brain function of yours and it won't disappear no matter how hard we both try! And I hate it, Julian, I hate it so much. It's my least favorite thing about you."

Julian can only listen as Rowan unloads all his frustrations. He can't help but agree with his arguments... He doesn't even attempt to get a word in.

"I don't even want to know the details. It'd just make things worse. I already almost lost you several times. I can't imagine what I would do if something serious happened. Not that this isn't serious! Whoever did this, whatever they cut you with, they could've just went for a major organ. And... And you'd just bleed out in some back alley. And I'd probably be the last to know."

Rowan pauses and looks down at the floor. His speech was like a gut punch to Julian, more painful that anything that happened yet. He hesitates before getting closer to Rowan and wrapping his arms around him. Rowan reciprocates immediately, squeezing him as tightly as he can.

"At this rate, you'll make me go gray before thirty..." Rowan weeps into his chest.

"I, for one, would think you look dashing." Julian sniffs awkwardly, holding onto Rowan's shirt "I'm so deeply sorry for making you worried again."

They stand there in silence for a few minutes, attempting to calm down after the endeavor.

If there's an upside to the frequency of those accidents, is that they manage to get a hold of their tears and frustrations quite quickly. After a moment, Julian pulls away a bit and looks into Rowan's eyes.

"You're right, of course... I know my recklessness takes a toll on you too... I promise that from now on there will be no spontaneous detours. If I get into a sticky situation, you'll know where to find me. I'll carry an additional knife with me as well." he adds with a soft chuckle "And I'm sorry for getting the blood on your shirt, just now... I'll buy it back for you."

"It's not completely ruined, I'll just need to soak it overnight... Though a compensation is definitely in order. For the tremendous emotional damages." Rowan sniffs.

"Then I shall take over making dinner for the whole month."

"Sure, that's fine..."

"And I'll buy you a new shirt anyway."

"Alright..."

"And I'll buy a new stool to replace the one I broke."

"Mhm."

"And you can stab me yourself if you'd like."

"...I think you're missing the point here. But if you scare me like that again, I will lightly choke you."

"We have a deal, darling."

———

i would appreciate opinions about this honestly..... and i had fun writing the descriptions the most i think

and this was the writing time + like 30 minutes the previous day

[moremaybank]

Hello! I love your jj posts!! Can you maybe write a jj x reader angst where they are together and haven’t seen each other for a few days (long working days and school stress etc.) and reader really misses him so they agree to meet later in the week at readers house, so she makes dinner and makes it all cozy but jj texts her last minute that he is a bit later because he's going to have end of the week drinks with colleagues and then he gets a bit drunk and forgets about the time coming home to reader late and she gets mad and sad because she missed him sm (maybe jj first tries to make up for it with his dick, bc you know boys are stupid) but later sees his mistake and notices how she made dinner etc, so he feels really bad and it ends with jj making up (fluff)! Hope this is okay and clear hahaha! ❤️ Have a nice day!

DINNER DATE — j.m

pairing jj maybank x gf!reader

summary jj comes home late when you two have a date night planned and he tries to make it up to you

warnings angst, mentions of alcohol use, jj being dumb and trying to fix things with sex

author's note started and restarted this way too many times for someone who is supposedly sane.

jj masterlist

your place looked amazing — like it was straight out of a rom-com. dimmed lighting with the golden glow of candles illuminating the space. rose petals scattered over the floor and table. the five-star meal you’d worked tirelessly on throughout the week trying to perfect. and let’s not forget about jj's favourite dessert from the restaurant he took you to on your first formal date. everything was perfect. jj deserved the best, and that’s all you wanted to give him. 

he had texted you as soon as he got off work, explaining that he would grab a quick drink with his colleagues before coming home to you for your highly anticipated and long overdue date night. 

but that was two hours ago, and now, you were over it. so. completely. over it. 

you were starting to blow out the candles littered around the room as jj stumbled through the door.

"hey, pretty girl. sh-shit. you look pretty. my pretty baby," he cooed, approaching you after removing his shoes and setting down his belongings.

you ignored him, continuing to clean up. you grabbed both of your plates and set them down next to the sink. you began to put the food in containers to store in the fridge when jj finally reached you.

"what are you doing? i thought we had dinner planned?" he questioned as he watched you pack the food away.

"we did. two hours ago," you retorted, refusing to even glance his way.

jj paused, dragging a hand over his face as he glanced at the clock.

9:03 pm. shit.

"baby...i—"

"don't, jj. i don't wanna hear it," you huffed, putting the food in the fridge and returning to the table where you blew out the remainder of the candles. "i hope you had a nice night."

jj's hands found yours from behind you, halting your movements. "i'm sorry. i didn't mean to. the guys and i were just blowing off some steam, and i-i lost track of time. we can take the food back out and eat it now," he pleaded, wrapping his broad arms around your waist as he rested his head on your shoulder. "let me make it up to you, please?"

"i'm not hungry anymore. you can eat by yourself if you want to."

for weeks, you and jj had been so busy, and you barely had time to see each other. the only time you got to spend with each other nowadays was when you two were in bed, asleep. so was it too much for the two of you to set aside time to enjoy each other's company while you ate a meal together and felt the love you shared? two hours ago, you would've said no. but after jj's forgetful behaviour, you weren't sure if your answer was the same.

"c'mon, pretty girl. i promise you'll feel better once i take care of you," jj whispered into your ear. his teeth grazed your earlobe before he pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses to the nape of your neck, trailing them across your shoulder as his fingers worked to remove the fabric of your sleeve. "mm, y-you smell good," he spoke, sniffing your skin.

"stop," you scold, shrugging him off and putting some distance between you two. "seriously? you think sex is just gonna make me forget that you completely blew me off? what's the matter with you?"

"wait, that's not what i meant. of course i know that's not gonna fix everything. but we were gonna end up there after dinner anyway, right?"

you scoffed in response, "wow. did you really just say that?"

"i—"

"you know what? it was one thing to have a drink with your work friends to relax after work. and i was fine with that, i really was. but i was able to prioritize time for my relationship. i just wish you could have too."

jj stayed quiet, mentally cursing himself for being as stupid as he was, trying to get you into bed without even letting you explain your side of things. he honestly didn't even consider how you felt about it all, and he was kicking himself. hard.

"i'm going to bed. you can clean up the remainder of what was supposed to be our date night, and when you're done, you can sleep on the couch. goodnight," you said before storming off, leaving jj alone with his thoughts.

how the hell was he supposed to fix this?

-

you woke up to your remorseful boyfriend rubbing your back soothingly to lull you out of your sleep. he smoothed your hair away from your face, landing a soft kiss on your forehead as your eyes fluttered open. "good morning, beautiful."

you grunted in acknowledgement, still not in the mood to speak to him.

he chuckled softly, thumb skimming over your cheekbone. "i know you're still mad at me, and that's okay because i deserve it. but i am planning on making it up to you."

"with sex?" you remarked, giving him a pointed look.

"no, not with sex. i learned my lesson. but i do have a surprise for you," he replied.

you raised a brow at him in confusion, "what is it?"

"you're gonna have to come with me to find out," he sing-songed with a cheeky grin. the one he knew you couldn't resist, even with all your power.

"fine."

you let jj pull you out of bed and lead you to the kitchen with his hands over your eyes. he reminded you not to peak because it's considered cheating, and you rolled your eyes behind your eyelids. he was already on thin ice, but you decided to swallow the snarky comment and save it for later in case you needed it.

you two finally came to a stop, and jj hesitated, debating if he had done enough to make things right, or at least start to. "you ready?"

"mhm."

"alright, open."

you opened your eyes, and your gaze landed on the beautifully decorated kitchen in front of you. jj had relit the candles littered around the room from the previous night. the rose petals were still artfully scattered across the floor and table. there were giant metallic balloons against the wall that spelled out, 'i love you.' lastly, on the table sat two plates with a gourmet breakfast that consisted of chocolate-chip pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, and home fries, alongside a mug of hot chocolate — the high-end one that you only splurged on a few times a year. your eyes began to water, but you blinked your tears away, not willing to give in to jj just yet.

"c'mon," he encouraged, pulling out a chair for you. you sat down, and he pushed you closer to the table before taking a seat himself.

"i know this won't fix everything, but i figured it could be a start," he smiled gently, his hand finding yours on the table. "so we can sit here and eat this delicious breakfast while you talk to me and let me know how you feel. we're gonna figure this out together."

you looked into the eyes of the boy you loved so much and saw the apologetic feelings behind them. your gaze softened, and you sighed.

"i'm sorry i got so angry with you, but i was hurt. i've missed you so much these past few weeks, and i've been so stressed out. i've just really needed you. so when we made the plan for our date night, i was so happy that we would finally get the chance to spend actual time together. but then you came home late, and it felt like you forgot about me. it felt like our plans weren't important to you...that i wasn't important to you, and it hurt," you explained. "i know our schedules can get super hectic. trust me, i understand that. but i need to know that we'll still make time for each other no matter what, because i want to build a life with you. i'm in this for the long haul, j. you need to show me that you are too."

he squeezed your hand in response, "i am. i'm in it for the long haul, baby, i promise. look...in hindsight, it probably wasn't the best idea for me to go drinking with the guys. i just had a really long day at work, and i wanted to loosen up before i came home to you so that i wouldn't sour the mood."

"you know, next time, you can just tell me that instead of making me feel like you want to ditch our plans," you teased, lightening up the mood between you two.

"i know. i'm sorry. and i'm also sorry for trying to initiate sex instead of talking things out with you. alcohol-influenced jj is a dumbass," he apologized. "but i don't ever want you to think that you don't matter to me. you aren't someone i'll ever just cast aside. you're my home and my heart. i love you, and i'm so lucky that you love me back," he spoke, bringing your hand to his lips so he could kiss your knuckles gently.

you smiled at him softly, and your free hand cupped his cheek. "i wouldn't mind hearing those things more often."

"i'll remind you how i feel about you hourly if it'll get you to see how important you are to me."

jj tag list (join here!): @maybankslover @skydisneylover @kittyqrt