#i just. wish it was. more often than not.

[xiaowhore]

happily ever after.

premise. perhaps in your last life, you wished for an extraordinary romance; a once-in-a-lifetime encounter, a dashing prince to kiss your hand, and an eternal love that could only be found in fairy tales. now, as you acknowledge that this story is not yours, your greatest desire is to remain out of the limelight while you watch your dearest protagonist twirl in the ballroom with the man of her dreams.

and just like every other time, fate has other plans.

word count. 7.8k

note. i honestly thought i wouldn't be able to finish this, but here we are. i hope you enjoy!

“The duke of Marechaussee is looking for a bride!”

The news spread far and wide, each new piece of gossip shared through word of mouth more convoluted than the last. But the gist of it essentially remains true—the reputable head of the most prestigious duchy in Fontaine, Neuvillette, whose abstinence from marriage had nobles speculating his intentions to practice celibacy, has now unfounded those rumors.

For others, this is an opportunity. For you, this is a cause for a headache.

Let's have a brief recount of your second life thus far. Ten years ago, you found yourself in a body that was not yours, one that was far too dainty and sickly for your liking. You were born to a powerful aristocratic family, your father bearing the title of Marquess. It was your greatest joy to find this new family of yours was loving and affectionate, bursting into tears of relief upon your return to consciousness the very first time you opened your eyes in this world. You were told you had nearly fallen to disease, and your parents spared no effort in finding the most knowledgeable doctors across the continent. Their embrace was incredibly warm, hands clutching your small body so tightly as if once they let go, you would be lost to the winds.

And, well. As far as you’re concerned, it isn't the worst life to live in. Your eldest brother is almost overbearingly protective, but he’s beyond considerate and cared for you greatly. Your second brother isn't honest to a fault, and you heard he often played tricks on you before, but ever since your worst fit of sickness, he's been incredibly careful in his treatment around you.

Life passed peacefully like this, adored and doted on by your beloved family. To repay their kindness, you wish to aid your eldest brother in the future and pursue your studies, but your parents assure you you don't have to do anything you don't want—including being bound by marriage.

For any other aristocratic family, it is a daughter's duty to secure a beneficial relationship with other houses of similar prestige. But your family spoils you rotten, and they hold no greed; why would they wish for more power when they already have everything they could possibly want in the kingdom as a Marquess family?

It is for that reason you are able to avoid the biggest red flag that could potentially lead to your demise: the engagement with the House of Marechaussee.

With how much you used to read webtoons and played otome games with the “I died and woke up in the romance novel I used to read” premise, you aren't all that surprised to realize you found yourself in that very situation. What did surprise you is the lack of daddy issues, and how easy you have it as a villainess.

You woke up in the world of “My Royal Darling,” an otome game with a plot as creative as its title. Cliche as it is, you ate that shit up back in your previous life and knew the story like the back of your hand. Your character [Name] Silva mainly appeared in the duke's route, a villainess who loved him deeply for his kindness and gentleness beneath his cold facade. As far as villainesses went in this game, you are certainly not the worst; the girl in the prince's route actively schemed against the protagonist and received a befitting punishment as a result. The worst [Name] Silva did was beg her doting parents for an engagement with the duke and use her sick sob story to garner pity.

All you have to do is avoid the duke at all costs, and you won't be part of the drama at all.

...That was what you thought before you went ahead and befriended the protagonist. Goddamn it.

“The duke is searching for a bride-to-be. Can you believe it?” Lumine giggles in all her protagonist glory, twinkling laughter as pleasant as the song of birds. Her etiquette is impeccable as ever, starting from her straight posture down to the elegant curve of her fingers as she raises her cup to sip tea. Her dress is not nearly as intricate as yours, the difference between your status glaringly apparent, but it's easy to envision her as a perfect princess. It would soon come to reality, you realize.

“And because of that, just about every girl I know is flocking to tailor shops to prepare for the social season.” You grimace, picking up a chocolate cake from the cake tower laid before you. You are currently having tea with Lumine in your rose garden, a bi-monthly arrangement where you shared gossip and traded information. “I fear I will be ridiculed for not following the latest trends soon. All of the shops are probably too busy to accommodate my order.”

“You must be joking. Who would dare refuse you?” Lumine shakes her head. “And even if they dressed up to the nines for the duke, they couldn't possibly compare to you.”

“I'm not trying to gain his favor,” you counter, poking at a strawberry on your plate. “I simply want new additions to my wardrobe, and the banquet hosted by the imperial family is coming up soon. My parents indulge me, but even I can't skip out on it.”

To avoid the love interests as much as possible, you minimize the frequency you go out to parties. Using your weak constitution is enough of an excuse to decline the invitations that pour out in the mail each day. But refusing an invitation from the imperial family is equivalent to a death sentence to your social standing, and even the protectiveness of your older brothers couldn't spare you from that.

If you have it your way, you absolutely would not go. The royal ball is where the official story starts, the prologue to a fairytale romance. All the love interests will be present, and the routes will branch out according to who Lumine will choose to talk to. Though you have no idea who Lumine will pick and you’re certain you were already ruled out as a villainess character ever since you made yourself her close confidant, you don't want to take on any risks. Alas, reality is unkind. You suppose you'll just see it as an opportunity to see the drama up close.

“Forget me, do you already have something to wear?”

“That is...” Lumine appears to be forlorn. “I plan to wear a dress I've worn before. We deemed it more favorable than purchasing a new dress I'll only wear once in my life. Besides, I doubt anyone would remember me wearing it already.”

She places too much faith in people. Nobles thrive on gossip—they find every possible flaw in everyone to gain leverage over them, and you've seen them ridicule Lumine in the game enough times to know. As the daughter of a humble Baron, she's already being picked on by the upper ranking ladies. If she goes to the banquet hosted by the imperial family wearing a gown that's already fallen out of trend, you have no doubt she will be regarded with derision.

But you won't allow that to happen.

“Do you have time this afternoon?” You smile. Lumine tilts her head in confusion yet nods nonetheless. “Let's find you a dress in the commerce street. We'll test out that theory of yours that they won't refuse me.”

Immediately, her eyes widen. She knows what you're planning. This is far from the first time you would be treating her. “No, it's fine! We don't have to go there!”

“Oh, c'mon, Lumine. Your birthday is coming up. Just think of it as me giving you your birthday present a few weeks in advance.”

At that, her shoulders slump. This is not the first time, and so she knows well there's no arguing with you once you put your mind into something. “If you insist so much…” She tries for a grateful smile, but it looks more guilty. When will she accept that she deserves nice things like this and so much more?

Just like Lumine said, you shot up the priority list of the tailor shop without much of a fuss. You make her try on numerous dresses, forbidding the tailors from telling her how much they cost if she ever asks. You end up choosing a pale blue dress that accentuates her good figure and complements her skin, and you manage to grab a couple of matching jewelry when she isn't looking.

Hopefully soon, you think as you begin to scarf down what remains of the cake tower, eager to go shopping. If she goes with the prince route, he’ll give her an entire castle. I should probably tell her about that cage in the basement from the yandere bad ending, though.

Lumine looks good in everything anyway, so it isn't a very time-consuming affair. You even have some time left to check out the merchant stalls before curfew arrives and you have to send her to a carriage back home.

“I don't know about you, but I'm craving some donuts.” You're raring to go to the best bakery in town, and Lumine laughs at your eagerness. Your family never looked upon fried food kindly, and you only have a chance of eating them when you're not within their supervision.

“Aren't you full from the pastries we ate earlier?”

“Hardly.” You grab onto your inconveniently long dress, prepared to race. “Come on, Lumine, we better hurry up before they run out!”

In your haste however, you fail to notice a child walking towards the opposite direction as you. She crashes to your leg, the impact sending her to the ground. You gasp, wasting no time in crouching down to her eye level and helping her up, uncaring of how the hem of your dress slides against the dirty floor. “I'm terribly sorry! Are you hurt anywhere?”

You pat away the dirt on her skirt, searching for any sign of blood. “No, I'm okay! I'm sorry too, miss!” The girl does a little cute bow, one that would normally make you coo if only you didn't feel so guilty. When she gives you a reassuring toothy grin, eyes shining bright with innocence, you can't help but pat her on the head with your clean hand.

“Did you get lost? Where are your parents?” You bring out an embroidered handkerchief from your pocket, wiping her hands free of grime. Lumine scans the nearby area and notices a man running over.

“Mister!” The child exclaims happily, pointing at him. You look up at his direction, momentarily at ease, until you actually see who she's pointing to.

Apprehension pools at the pit of your stomach. The man is the very picture of someone that children should be taught to avoid. Draped in a dark cloak that conceals half of his face, his attire is practically the standard getup for kidnappers in an abduction scene, the type that says cheesy lines like “hand over the gold or I'll kill your girl right now” and ends up getting decked in the face by the prince that saves the heroine.

Before you can say anything, the little girl runs toward him, her arms outstretched for an embrace. The man is quick to lean down and cradle her in his arms, reprimanding the girl for his carelessness. The severity of his words is utterly lost when he's too busy scanning the child's body up and down in search of any injuries to be intimidating.

“Didn't I tell you not to run? You could get into an accident,” the man admonishes gently as he uses the napkin in the girl's hands to wipe away the remaining dirt on her palms. “Not everyone is as forgiving as this kind lady. Did you apologize to her?”

“No, it's fine, it was my fault,” you interject, doing a quick curtsy reflexively. “I got too excited about buying donuts that I wasn't paying enough attention to my surroundings.”

The man pauses when he gets a good look at you, making you shrink to yourself. You put on commoner clothes to blend with the crowd better, but you wonder if you have something incriminating of your status on you.

“Did you get hurt?”

You blink at the unexpected question. How could bumping into a tiny child cause you any injury? “...Not at all.”

His lips curl into a smile, still visible under the shadows of his robe. “Then that's a relief. We apologize for this incident. I'm sorry to cut this conversation short, but I'm afraid we have somewhere to be.”

“Oh, of course!” You laugh awkwardly, raising a hand to wave at the child. “Be safe on the way there.”

The older man bows his head and the little girl yells an endearing “farewell!” as she's carried away by her guardian, spinning on his heel to turn to their destination.

In doing so, you catch a glimpse of the ornate sword strapped to his waist. A silver dragon wraps around the hilt, its scales gleaming under the sun. The sapphires in its eyes are a deep blue, the color as vibrant as the sea, a contrast to the dull shade of its scabbard.

You swear you've seen that sword before.

“[Name], we should hurry. The sun will set soon.” Lumine snaps you out of your thoughts, reminding you of the direness of the situation.

“The lady was really pretty!” The little girl—Mamere—begins to ramble as she fiddles with the handkerchief you left her. She's walking on her own now, but the man makes sure to match her slower pace. “I thought she would get mad when I bumped into her, but her voice was so nice and soft. And she patted my head!”

“My donuts!”

“She was very kind,” the man agrees, remembering the genuine worry on your face when Mamere fell to the ground.

“But what do I do?” Mamere pouts, staring at the intricate embroidery on the napkin. “I don't know how to return this to her.”

Her companion hums. “I don't think she's expecting you to return it. Didn’t she give it to you?”

“But I feel bad…” Mamere admires the careful stitching, her fingers lightly tracing its shape. “It looks so beautiful… she must've worked hard in embroidering it, didn't she?” Suddenly, her eyes sparkle with realization, an idea popping into her mind. “Mister, if it's you, you can return it to her, right?”

The older man blinks. “I suppose so. However-”

The girl offers the handkerchief to him. “Please give this to her when you see her, Mister!”

Conflicted, he stares down at Mamere, but he eventually folds when she puts on her best puppy dog eyes. He takes the handkerchief from her hands, his thumb brushing over the meticulous embroidery.

Only a fool wouldn’t recognize the insignia of the Silva House.

A strong gust of wind pulls down the hood of his cloak, revealing long hair the color of moonlight. The golden hue of the sunset basks his pale skin in a bright glow, his eyes soft as he gazes upon the handkerchief.

“I have a good idea when I may see her next,” Neuvillette assures Mamere, causing her smile to brighten even more.

All too soon, the day of the imperial banquet arrives.

Though whether she wants to see me or not is a different matter.

Natully, your escort to the event is none other than your protective second brother, but you'd argue he's a better choice over the eldest who'd probably glare daggers at anyone who comes within five meters of your vicinity. It's not even like you have other men in your life aside from your family and the knights at your service.

You intend to appear as inconspicuous as possible, but the nobles' curious gazes still follow after your shadow. Consequences of your actions, you suppose. You managed to dodge that eventful first meeting with Duke Neuvillette since you knew you would bump into him at a social gathering, but you had to go through the extra mile to avoid attending every party you could skip because the game was so goddamn vague and only described the scene as “The lady of House Silva fell in love with the duke the moment her eyes landed upon him at a banquet.”

Thanks to that, you’re rarely seen by nobility and thus attained a ridiculous nickname along the lines of “the precious flower of Silva” for being thoroughly pampered by your family, hidden from the rest of the world. Embellished tales of your beauty spread across society, and you can only hope they weren't disappointed to see the real thing in the flesh.

Damn it, you think grimly, the downturn of your lips hidden beneath the intricate fan you've taken to using in order to hide your expression. It's hard to approach the buffet table when they're all staring at me like this.

Truthfully, you’re grateful all they're doing is staring. If not for your eldest brother’s protectiveness, you’re sure more than a crowd of men would be vying for your hand in marriage, flooding your house with mail and wedding offers. Your second brother is not so fortunate, pinned by pointed stares from all sides by unwed women waiting for the right moment to pounce on him.

He pinches the edge of your sleeve before you can attempt to sneak your way towards the buffet table. “And where exactly are you going?” Amazingly enough, his pleasing smile doesn't falter even as he grumbles out his admonishment, still as flawless as ever.

“To eat. The catering is wasted on you socialites, no one bothers to take a bite just to talk to other people.” You’ve learned a thing or two from your brothers, and so your own polite smile doesn't twist into something more fitting for the tone of your voice.

His mouth opens again, definitely some spiel about how you should try making other connections because as much as Lumine is pleasant company, she will not be of any help to your trading endeavors, but a girl adorned in frilly lace tries her luck in hitting on him and you slip away when he's not looking.

As expected, the feast on the buffet table is untouched. You help yourself to a few plates, searching for Lumine all the while. As per true protagonist fashion, she’ll arrive fashionably late at the banquet and bring attention to herself when the grand doors reveal her in a stunning dress. Had you not intervened, she would've gotten a pretty dress some way or another anyway—it’s bound by the law of the universe. In the original game, she helped an old lady cross the street and she turned out to be the owner of a high-end boutique.

But time goes by with no sight of familiar blond locks, and you’re getting pretty full from the steak served. You’re thinking about going to your brother to spare him from the women when someone approaches you, a series of footsteps gradually becoming more audible—from a respectable distance, of course, but near enough to know they came with a purpose. You stop yourself from sighing, taking a moment to collect yourself and school your expression into something more elegant.

Your efforts are rendered useless when your jaw immediately drops upon seeing the figure of the very person you were trying to avoid.

Are you fucking kidding me?!

Standing before you is Neuvillette himself, the crowd behind him parted like the Red Sea. He’s finely dressed, crisp suit accented with his House’s signature colors blue and gold, and his long hair is fashioned into a low ponytail that rests on the side of his chest. His intimidating air rivals that of the royal family, a commanding presence that drives people to bow to him at once. Yet this time, the crowd instead unashamedly stares at the spectacle the pair of you must make, both parties that are often absent in galas now crossing paths.

The etiquette lessons hammered into your body makes you curtsy in a show of respect, starkly contrasting the crude expletives roaring in your head as your eyes lock onto a vague figure behind him. It’s hard to meet his eyes. “Good evening, Your Grace. I believe this is our first encounter.” But I worked really hard to make it never happen, you know?!

In turn, Neuvillette bows his head in greeting. “Indeed. I’ve heard much about my lady, so I am glad I have the opportunity to meet you at last.”

The smile on your face twitches, the fabric between your fingers wrinkling under your tightening grip. “Pardon?”

“Your older brother is quite fond of you. He’s been telling me stories of your family whenever we have tea.”

Which brother is he talking about???

If it was your eldest brother, he would at least take care not to harm your clean reputation, but his gushing about his cute younger sister could be embarrassing. However, if it was your much more tactless, stupid brother who still holds a grudge over you eating the last tea cake given by foreign ambassadors from a neighboring country, he’d probably tell Neuvillette everything that would make your “precious flower of Silva” title entirely undeserving.

“A… haha… is that so…” you begin fanning yourself harder, trying to keep your nervous sweating at bay. Neuvillette turns his head, looking around your surroundings.

“I believe you were escorted by your brother. Is he preoccupied?”

The corner of your mouth curls into a slight smirk. “Certainly. Women have been trying to pique his interest since the banquet began.”

At that, Neuvillette’s smile turns wry. You’re sure he relates to that a little too much, the poor guy. Even at this very moment, there are countless women observing the situation, attempting to find the right chance to jump in the conversation and steal him away. Though you do feel bad for him, you’re also wishing to find a good opportunity to leave without looking rude. After all, in the possibility that Lumine happens to like him, you’d soon be acquainted with him as his significant other’s closest friend.

Just as you’re cheering on a lady that’s beginning to approach the duke, he starts speaking. “If that’s the case…” Bowing once more, he outstretches his arm gracefully, offering his hand. The sight looks like a sparkling CG, and you’re not sure if the flowers surrounding him are really there or if you're starting to hallucinate. “Would my lady mind if I escorted you for the time being?”

Your fanning hand comes to a sharp halt. “Pardon?” you say for a second time, sounding more disbelieved than the last.

“I happen to be in a similar predicament as your brother,” his voice lowers to a hushed tone. “Though we haven’t known each other for long, I hope you can lend me a hand.”

Why is this happening to me…

And as if his pleading tone isn’t enough, he tops it off with a charming smile truly befitting a love interest in a dating simulator. “I’d also like to take this opportunity to be closer to you, my lady.”

--

You bite back the urge to sigh, lest Neuvillette think you thought he was an utter bore as a dance partner. Really, he’s nothing like that–there’s no way getting to see that handsome face up close could ever be boring. He’s a nice partner, actually; he leads the dance in a way that makes you comfortable, and you’re no dance prodigy, but you feel like you can close your eyes and dance just as well as long as you follow his lead.

Another point of thrill is the incessant glares you can feel on your back. Truly, Neuvillette’s more ambitious fans are terrifying. As the one in charge of the territory covering the boundary between the kingdom and the land of monsters, Neuvillette must be used to frightening creatures, but lovesick women must be a whole ‘nother terror for him altogether for him to ask for your help to avoid them.

Still…

He’s the only person I’m trying to avoid at this place, and now I’m dancing with him. Haha. What am I even doing here?

You feel him squeeze your hand softly. “Is something on your mind?” Neuvillette’s voice breaks you out of your trance. You look up at him, noticing he looks worried.

“I apologize. I wasn’t paying attention.” You shake your head, giving him a small grin.

He frowns. “It’s not that. If you feel tired or unwell, please tell me.”

“I’m fine! Very much so!” You suddenly feel bad for cursing him, albeit indirectly, in your head. You understand why the original villainess liked him so much, but you should avoid interacting with him unless strictly necessary… once this dance ends. “I must say, Your Grace has quite the number of admirers. This is the first time I’ve been stared at so intensely by a crowd of women.”

He hums thoughtfully as you twirl away from him as part of the step sequence, and he catches your waist with ease when you return. “I could say the same for you. Gentlemen we pass by have been eyeing me with hostility ever since we started dancing.”

“What?” You look around the ballroom, making a sound of surprise when you see multiple nobles eyeing Neuvillette with some amount of envy and detestation. You’ve been so caught up with the attention Neuvillette’s been getting that you overlooked your share of trouble.

“The son of the viscount in particular seems to be the most eager to ask for a dance.” He averts his gaze to the man standing by the buffet table who’s been glaring at the pair of you pretty hard. Farthest thing from your type.

“I suppose I’ll have to find my brother when this song is over, then.”

Silence ensues in the remaining duration of the song, but it’s a comforting one. You’re not much of a talker anyway, and it’s hard to think of things to talk about when practically everyone in the audience is looking for a chance to steal both of you away from each other. Eventually, the last notes of the violin are played, and you finish the dance with bows of courtesy.

“Thank you for complying with my request.”

“It was nothing. I’m glad I could lend a hand.” Your eyes roam over the area, securing the shortest route to get to your brother. “Our encounter was brief, but you were truly pleasant company, Your Grace.”

You plan to leave it at that, the heel of your foot already spinning to turn in the opposite direction. Okay, good. That’s just an irregularity. It’s too bad I couldn’t completely avoid him, but as long as we don’t get too involved with each other, it should still be safe-

But then you feel a gentle hand wrap around the tips of your fingers. You turn back, the initial confusion wearing off to shock. Neuvillette is holding your hand. Neuvillette is holding your hand. Slowly, he brings it closer to his face, and for a moment, you think, Oh, his eyelashes are pretty long, before you feel him press a soft kiss on your knuckles.

You hear a gasp. Numerous, you correct yourself, on varying levels of shock. You hope that god-awful dramatic one didn’t come from you, but you aren’t too sure because the only things on your mind are Neuvillette’s hand around yours, his irresistible smile, and the words that leave his lips.

“If my lady doesn’t find my company disagreeable, would you consider meeting me on another occasion?”

In your time living as a noble, you’ve somewhat gotten used to speaking in formal language. In nobility terms, that’s basically Neuvillette asking you out on a date.

“...Pardon???”

Word spread quickly throughout the social network. That’s within expectations, knowing how nosy nobles can get. By the time the imperial banquet ended, everyone in attendance already heard that Neuvillette had taken interest in a woman, and that woman happened to be the daughter from the Silva family.

Objectively speaking, it isn’t a bad match. Both families have something to gain from a marriage union, which is why the original duke from the game agreed to the engagement in the first place.

Subjectively, however…

“I’ve gathered you all here today to have an important discussion.”

Presently, you are situated at the family dining table. As usual, there’s a heavenly feast spread out on the table, but all the food remains uneaten because there’s apparently a more pressing matter at hand.

“...The duke has spoken his intentions to court our [Name],” your eldest brother says grimly, hands locked together and placed under his chin.

“You’re overreacting, he just asked me if I wanted to meet him another time.” You rolled your eyes, reaching for the garlic bread appetizer. He promptly swats it away. “Hey!”

“That’s basically the same thing,” your second brother argues. “Not that I don’t like His Grace, but it’s so sudden. Nobody has caught his eye until now, and I find it hard to believe you’re the first one ever.”

“Now you’re just dissing me.”

“I don’t see why you’re all unhappy about this,” your mother cuts in, smiling pleasantly. “The duke is an honorable man, one of the few I think are deserving of our [Name]. If he shows his loyalty and dedication to her throughout the courtship, we’ll see how well he’ll treat her.”

“That is if [Name] likes him. If she doesn’t and he continues to bother her, I’ll have to step in, status aside.” Your ever protective father frowns as he slices the steak on his plate. “Do tell us if he’s making you uncomfortable, honey.”

“Uh, no, I wouldn’t go that far…”

The only issue you have with the duke is that he’s a love interest. In the original game, him and your character would have nothing to do with each other if it weren’t for the original you insisting on being engaged to him. You don’t know what happened to her in the bad endings, but the situation probably wasn’t ideal. You thought as long as you avoided him, you could steer clear of trouble…

But if he’s the one running after you, what are you supposed to do…?!

“At the very least, you don’t dislike him, do you?” Your second brother cocks up an eyebrow.

“Not really, no.”

“Then hypothetically, if he invited you for a boat ride in the town today, would you go?”

“Hold on a second!” Your eldest brother interrupts. “We still haven’t discussed whether or not he’s worthy of [Name] yet, have we?”

“I thought we were past that.”

“We need to discuss it in detail.”

“Discuss what? The duke’s abundant treasury, contributions to the war against the dragon lord, or his reputation of being a gentleman towards all women?”

“...There has to be something he lacks.”

“What he lacks is a wonderful, caring wife,” your mother says. “And if [Name] is interested in the duke, we shouldn’t get in their way. I know you’re worried, dear. [Name] has always been stuck in the house because she’s sickly, but if a man wants to take her out to have a fun excursion, you should let her. His Grace is also very considerate of the people around him. Surely, if he notices her feeling unwell, he’ll take care of her.”

I haven’t said anything about wanting to go on a date with him though?!

“Fine. I don’t disapprove of him, but…” Your brother eyes you warily. “You best be home before sundown.”

A day passes. You hear three knocks on your door. When you allow the servant to enter your room, a maid rushes to you in a hurry, a letter sealed with the insignia of the Marechaussee House in her hands.

“Brother, I haven’t even received an invitation yet…”

--

The cake tower in front of you is magnificent. The fresh fruits topped on whipped cream are vibrant pops of color, and the frosting is piped beautifully in intricate swirls and shapes. The cakes pair well with the tea served, too, and you’re already planning to bring Lumine here the next time you’re both free to talk about the imperial knight she ended up talking to at the banquet. That route is definitely your favorite and you can’t wait to hear about the details.

Damn it.

There’s nothing wrong with the food. This pastry shop has been making its rounds in the newspapers for its delectable new additions on the menu, and they didn’t disappoint your tastebuds.

Though you have to say they’d be a lot more enjoyable if you weren’t surrounded by women eavesdropping on your little meeting with Neuvillette.

“This strawberry shortcake is delicious,” Neuvillette notes. “I’m not too fond of sweets, but they taste great. You should give it a try.”

“Oh, yes, when I finish this one…” The mango cheesecake is to die for, but it’s kind of hard to swallow with the death stares pinpointed at your direction. You hope the pastry shop allows takeout. “Thank you for inviting me to come here, Your Grace.”

“I noticed you mostly ate desserts at the imperial banquet, so I thought you would enjoy trying the food here.” He’s smiling, but when he glances over at your unwanted audience, his eyes gloss over and appear colder. “I didn’t anticipate there would be many people today. I’m sorry for that.”

Some of the women visibly twitch. They weren’t exactly caught red-handed, but it does prove that they’re guilty. Someone probably saw us here and told everyone else… Gossipmongers are scary.

“This situation is out of your control, you don’t have to apologize. And, uh, I wanted to talk to you about something, so your invitation came at a good time.” You fiddle with the edges of your sleeve, plucking at the lace.

Sensing the mood, the duke places down his fork to give you his full attention. “What did you want to talk about?”

Well. Here goes nothing. “Um… your invitation back at the imperial banquet… are you referring to a friendly chat or…” It’s sorta hard to say “Do you want to date me?” straight to his face. In the small chance you’ve gotten the wrong idea, you’d hate to appear presumptuous, so self-absorbed to think the highly-praised Neuvillette fell for you of all people. Lumine, you’d understand–the girl has a knack for melting the coldness of your heart and taking down people’s walls, and it’s why you became friends with her despite the odds. You, though… Nothing specific comes to mind.

Unexpectedly, a soft chuckle reaches your ears. You raise your head, surprised to see Neuvillette laughing. It’s possibly the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard in your life. When he catches you staring, he composes himself, but the dazzling smile remains on his face. “I was certain I made my intentions clear, but I suppose I’ll have to be more forward next time.”

A flush crawls up to your cheeks, burning hot. “No, I swear I know what you mean- just making sure, you know? I mean, I wouldn’t want to assume the duke is interested in me without knowing for certain-”

You stop yourself from rambling, feeling you’ve said too much. Fuck. Is it just you or is Neuvillette’s smile a bit wider now? You stuff your stupid mouth with the shortcake he placed on your plate. It’s good. Your acting is very much not.

He clears his throat, getting back to business. “I understand you don’t see me that way. I would like to court you, but if you tell me to stop now, I will.”

Isn’t he backing off too easily? I mean it’s great he respects my decision, but if I turn him down now, it’d probably be bad for his reputation…

“Before we… have that discussion, I still have more questions to ask.” You sip on your tea to wash down the sweet taste on your tongue. It’s silent once you put the cup on the table. Placing your hands on your lap, you look directly into Neuvillette’s eyes, searching for an answer. “May I ask Your Grace why you took an interest in me?”

The silence persists for a few seconds more. It doesn’t seem like he’s thinking of the perfect words to swoon you over; he’s thinking about how to verbalize what he truly thought of you.

He opens his mouth after careful consideration. “...It began as curiosity,” he starts, tapping rhythmically on the table. “I had my own reasons for turning down invitations to parties, so I wondered what were yours.”

You swallow. Officially, you turned those down using your health as an excuse. But your constitution has improved greatly compared to when you were young, and evidently, you’re almost just as healthy as any person. At the very least, you’re not at risk of passing out or losing breath in the middle of an event anymore. He must’ve picked up on that.

“I’ve heard about you from other people. According to their words, you were ‘the loveliest flower’ in the kingdom, with unparalleled gracefulness and beauty… but your elder brother’s stories suggested otherwise.”

I’m kicking his ass when I get back home.

“And yesterday, I met you myself. I thought you differed from how they described you.” He pauses, drinking his tea. “I’ve heard many say you were quite the stoic character, always hard to read. But you make a lot of interesting expressions behind your fan. You don’t hide your true thoughts when you speak, or perhaps you’re simply bad at hiding them. I previously found your brother’s stories unbelievable, but now I can see that the colorful personality he was talking about wasn’t very far off.”

??? “Colorful personality”?? Is that a good thing or a bad thing?

“...I understand.” You really don’t, but you won’t bother asking him for more details. Everything he said thus far lowkey sounds like a diss. “Let me rephrase my question, then.”

It’s okay. This isn’t unfamiliar territory, and you’re not stupid. Obviously, if you do different things from the original, the story will derail from its original course. That’s what always happens in transmigration manhwas, after all. You noticed that early before the plot could truly change. If so, perhaps you can control the amount of change that will happen.

You sit up a little straighter, eyes laser-focused on his reaction to what you’re about to say. “What are you after, trying to get closer to me?”

You know these tropes. If you give him what he needs, you can separate soon, no strings attached.

Neuvillette makes an expression of confusion, his brows knitted. “Your hand in marriage,” he says it like it’s the obvious answer.

“Not that! Is there anything you need help with?”

“I did say I was having trouble with the women at the banquet, but that was more of an excuse to talk to you.”

You sputter, “W-well, you need someone to fake-date or fake-marry then?” Fake-dating often leads to them actually dating, but if you’re careful, you can probably keep that from happening, right?

The furrow in his brow deepens. “I don’t want to use you to stop women from chasing me. I want to marry you.”

Goddamn it. Does this guy have his own set of dialogue choices and he keeps on picking the one that raises affection? “…Okay, I get it! You need something from my family! What is it? We don’t need to be married for me to help you.” You cross your arms triumphantly. That should do it.

Instead of agreeing, Neuvillette looks forlorn. “Lady [Name], is it really that hard to believe I want to marry you without something else in mind?”

Now Neuvillette looks like a kicked puppy and you’re solely to blame for it. Fuck!

You sigh, rubbing circles on your temple. “I just… fail to see why Your Grace is interested in me.” You’re not talking yourself down, nor do you have low self-esteem. You simply don’t recall doing anything that would make him fall for you at all. Logically speaking, there’s just no reason behind his actions.

Your eyes widen when you have a moment of eureka.  Maybe talking yourself down is actually the way to get him off your trail?

“I’m sure Your Grace is aware, but I have a weak constitution…” you begin your pitiful tale, coughing softly to prove your point. “I can’t work very long, and I require plenty of rest to function in daily life. In the case that we marry, I might not be able to keep up with the tasks the lady of the house is expected to handle. Rather than support you as your wife, I might merely become a burden to you. And most importantly…”

A lot of what you just said aren’t complete lies, but you did exaggerate them greatly. Even if he isn’t convinced with those, you still have a hidden card up your sleeve, one that’s sure to discourage him.

“...With my feeble body, it would be difficult to sire you an heir for the duchy,” you state firmly, placing emphasis on this one point. Successors are absolutely a requirement for each family, because who else will inherit the title and everything that comes with it when the current head comes to pass? For this, you’re not even sure if you’re exaggerating anymore. The future of the original [Name] Silva was left unclear, so who knows if your body will improve or deteriorate with time?

Neuvillette’s face becomes stoic. This much is expected. Any moment now, he’ll take back his words…

…As you’re thinking that, you feel him touch your hand once more, not unlike the time at the banquet. You don’t know when you started fidgeting with the napkin on the table out of anxiety, but he’s rubbing a thumb over your knuckles to soothe you now, gentle touches that verge on ticklish.

“I’m prepared for that,” he says softly. “I won’t spare any expense on your treatment, of course, and in the case your condition worsens, I won’t stop finding ways to make you feel better. But I would never make you do anything to push you beyond your limits. I’ll take on everything you can’t do. Eventually, we’ll need to talk about successors, but I need you to know that I won’t force you or put you in any risk. If needed, I’ll talk to my relatives and figure out something from there.”

???!?!?!?!?!!!?! He wants to pass on the title to someone who’s not a direct descendant?!?!?

Your mouth is agape. You’re sure your jaw-dropped face doesn’t look very pleasant, but the affection in his gaze doesn’t dwindle. Heavy. Everything he just said is so heavy. The future is scary to think about, but when he says it like that, why does it feel like you can lean on him freely?! This is no time to be getting swept off your feet, [Name]! Focus!

“Are you still not convinced?” He moves his face closer, concern in his eyes.

“No, I get it! I get it already!” You take your hand back, but his warmth still lingers. You hold your fingers like they’re scorched, yet pain is the furthest thing from what you’re feeling, and your heart flutters traitorously in your beating chest. “You’re being unfair. If you go that far, there’s no way anyone could turn you down.”

The smile returns to his face as he takes his hand back as well. “I take it that you’ve given me permission to court you, then?”

!!! Sly! That’s what this person is, sly! He knew what he was doing!

You make a face. “Ugh… maybe persistent guys are too dangerous for me…”

“Lady [Name], you’re speaking your thoughts out loud again. Not that I dislike it, though.”

The duke of Marechaussee has found a potential bride.

“I-! Nevermind…”

That’s putting it lightly because everyone that has heard of them is certain that they’ll marry in the near future. With the amount of flirting the two have done (leaked by the eavesdropping jealous-admirers-turned-shippers), it’s a mystery why they haven’t made the announcements yet.

Notably, the pair of them frequented restaurants the most, visiting the shops highly regarded for their sweets. Chatting in slow boat rides seem to also be one of their most favored dates, and at one particularly disastrous time when the boat tipped over by accident, the duke had fretted over the lady while she merely laughed in joy, insisting she was fine and her partner was being too much of a worrywart. Both started to attend more gatherings, almost never spotted to be straying from each other, and it was more or less their indirect way of telling the public eye they were exclusive.

Their romantic dates are all common knowledge to anyone nosy by now, but there’s one thing they absolutely cannot spread.

“Don’t tell this to anyone,” a woman whispered to her loyal companion. “And I truly mean that this time. Don’t do it.”

“What is it? Is it something really bad? ‘Some high-ranking noble has a secret love child’ bad?”

“No!” This time, the woman took care to whisper her words even quieter, “I heard the duke requested a jeweler to craft an engagement ring…!”

Things I couldn’t fit into the fic:

Neuvillette already met you when you were younger. In one of the first gatherings you attended, you talked to each other because you were near in age. However, you collapsed due to your constitution and he was the one to alert the adults and carry you to a sick room. He used a handkerchief embroidered with his initials to wipe away the blood you threw up, and you hid it away in your bedside table after cleaning it in hopes of returning it (if he still wanted it back, soiled once and all) when you saw him again. Unfortunately, your family members were worried and didn’t let you outside for a long time to avoid having you perform strenuous activities, and you didn’t recognize him at a later gathering when he tried striking a conversation with you. He noted you were slowly getting better, but wondered why you weren’t attending parties if you were relatively well now.

You probably interacted with him when he was pretending to be a normal commoner several times already before your “first meeting.”

You didn’t fall for him immediately, but it was a slow progression until you forgot about the whole ‘I’m in an otome game world’ thing completely.

[g4rvez-r3id]

Nice Car

S4! Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU Reader

Synopsis: You’d always had a crush on Dr. Spencer Reid but you’re sure he’s never had eyes on you. But he takes you home after a night out with the team and you’re definitely proven wrong about him not having eyes on you.

Category: Smut

Warnings: reader has a crush on spencer and vice versa, mentions of a family annihilator case, mutual pining, drinking, reader is described as “bigger than most girls” *lowkey projecting here again 😬*, the girls are wingwomen - in jj, garcia and emily we trust 🙏, reader is tipsy but sobers up before they even leave the bar, kissing, smut warnings: car sex, a lil vanilla, straddling, dry humping(?), praise kink, riding, unprotected sex, creampie. (that should cover it)

Author’s Note: hey lovelies! i was watching “yellowjackets” and got inspired oops 🫢 i hope y’all like this one hehe it’s a quick one but oh well :)

You wanted to wind down after a big case you and the team had in Cincinnati. It was a family annihilator, who’d been murdering families of five. Their children age ranges from as young as three to as old as fourteen. It wasn’t easy, dealing with cases such as these ones.

At the end of the case, Rossi offered to pay for drinks tonight at O’Keefe’s. Once Emily and JJ said they were in, you nodded in agreement to come along and secretly hoping Spencer would come along tonight. And luckily, with some persuasion from Garcia and Morgan — he reluctantly agreed, to your wish.

It was no secret that you had a huge crush on Spencer. Everyone knew, except Spencer. But then again, he was oblivious to pretty much anything that had to do with the opposite sex.

So, on that note, you decided to dress for the night. Correction, Garcia decided you should dress for the night. She’d been the one encouraging this little crush you had on Spencer.

Often times, you thought she was saying stuff like ‘Oh, pretty boy was totally staring at you today’ or ‘He totally has a thing for you’ just to feed into your delusions. You weren’t sure dressing up was going to do anything.

Especially, since you didn’t really believed you fit into the “hot category”. And what you meant by that was that weren’t built like a supermodel. You were bigger than most girls you knew. Boys at school never looked at you, only really looking at friends of yours and only befriending you because of those friends. There were a lot of things you didn’t like about yourself. Your shoulders were too broad, your thighs too big, your boobs — more flabby than boob. You were your own biggest critic and to be honest, you weren’t sure if there was anyone out there who would love you for you. So, you figured that you’d be content fulfilling a life of loneliness if you were to never experience the love you believed you deserved.

But nonetheless, you dressed up. You were also dressing up for yourself, dressing for Spencer would’ve been a plus. But if you were going to look good tonight, you were doing it on your own terms and not at the expense of a boy. Or a man, since Spencer was definitely all man.

Garcia had helped you with your outfit. You wore a mini-velvet black dress with a bunched waist that fit your body and curves right and topped the outfit off with a leather jacket and converse — sorry, but you’d rather be comfortable than wearing six-inch heels that will break your ankles after taking one step.

JJ offered to drive you, Emily and Garcia to the O’Keefe’s tonight and you’d taken it with the intention of getting wasted and not wanting to drive back to your place while intoxicated.

The four of you met up with the men. Spencer had shown up, driving Morgan and Rossi and Hotch had hitched a ride with each other and Morgan whistled once he saw you. “Sheesh, Mama, you look hot.” He commented and your cheeks flush at the compliment. “Oh, this was just a little something I had in my closet but thank you, Morgan.”

Spencer had coughed a bit and Hotch pats his back to soothe him. “You okay, Reid?” He asks. Spencer nods, “Oh, yeah, wrong—” He clears his throat. “Wrong pipe.” He definitely wasn’t going to admit that he was staring at you in the dress and it made him choke on his water.

“Pretty boy’s just choked up because pretty girl here showed up in a little sexy dress, huh?” Morgan chuckles and you look down sheepishly, even pulling the ends of your dress down a bit.

You seated yourself next to Spencer and Emily for the night, drinking shot after shot with your colleagues, swapping stories and having a few laughs. You found yourself scooting impossibly closer to Spencer, even resting your head on his shoulders a couple of times as you talked about him endearingly to your other colleagues. You’d had about six shots before switching over to water to sober up a bit.

Eventually, you, Emily, JJ and Garcia had all gone to the bathroom, where the four of you did your own gossiping. “Oh, my God. Y/n, have you noticed how Spencer hasn’t taken his eyes off of you all night?” Garcia asked as you checked your reflection in the mirror.

“Oh, stop.” You retort, washing your hands. “No, Penelope is totally right. He’s been staring at you since we got here.” JJ confirmed and Emily adds on, “And he definitely checked out your ass when we were coming here.”

You shake your head, “You guys are insane.” JJ raises her brows with a suggestion, “Hey, how about he gives you ride home tonight?” Penelope gasps and chimes in, “Yes, yes, yes! It’d be a perfect opportunity for you two to be alone together!” Emily then nods along with this plan, “Yeah and then we’ll take Morgan home so he won’t be a cockblock.”

You laugh at their jokes, at least you think they’re joking for the rest of the night. That is until Rossi pays off the tabs and everyone begins to leave. “Hey, why don’t we take you home, Morgan? It’s on the way and Spencer can take Y/n home since it’s not that far from him?”

You don’t catch as Garcia winks at Morgan to go along with it and Morgan nods in agreement, “Sounds like a plan. You don’t mind, Reid, do you?” Morgan asks and Spencer shrugs and he smiles at you, “No, not at all. Is that okay with you, Y/n?” You swear, you get butterflies from anything this man does. You shrug, “Fine by me.”

You exchange your goodbyes as the four of your colleagues wriggle their eyebrows at you and you swear, you’re so gonna get them back for this one day. Or maybe thank them, who knows?

Spencer walks you back to his vehicle, a Volvo Amazon P130, an old school car that seemed right for a man such as Dr. Spencer Reid himself. Spencer wastes no time as he opens your car door for you and then makes his way to the driver’s seat to start the car.

“Sorry about the car, it’s pretty old school. Morgan says I should get a new car.” Spencer sheepishly smiles at you but you shake your head, “It’s a nice car, though.” Spencer furrows his brows, “Really, you don’t think it’s a hunk of junk?”

“Hunk of junk, sure. But you never see cars like these anymore. Any facts you can share with me about the design?” You ask and Spencer’s eyes light up as he begins to explain — “The production years were from 1961 to 1970. The engine programme was originally supposed to follow that of the 4-door model. However, as the 2-door was somewhat lighter, it was also regarded as somewhat more sporty and was therefore used in competitions, both rally driving and motor racing. They’d presented two models, however technically speaking, there was no difference between the two models. The doors were naturally longer on the new 2-door model to make it easier to get into the rear seat and the front seats could, of course, be folded forwards for the same reason—”

You listened intently as he talked about the car and the models. Honestly, you weren’t exactly understanding what he was saying but you watched as he spoke. If his hands hadn’t been on the wheel, he definitely would’ve spoken with his hands like he did often. You loved listening to him talk. Especially when no one on the team seemed to give him the time of day like you would. If you weren’t obvious about your crush before, you staring at him while he talked would do it. You wouldn’t lie if you said you didn’t find his knowledge sexy, you did. It was hard to concentrate when someone as amazing as him was sharing facts about anything everything and it turned you on, if you were being honest.

“Hey, Spence?” You ask. “Yup?” Spencer looks your way for a split second. And you don’t know what makes you say the next thing you say, but it confuses Spencer. “Pull over.”

Spencer looks at you, a little longer now with furrowed brows. “Uh… what?”

“Pull over.” You repeat.

Spencer is confused but nonetheless does as you request, turning towards a vacant street and puts the car in park. “Are you okay? Do you feel like you’re gonna get sick?” You look at Spencer and you smile a bit, warm at the fact that he seems to be concerned for you. Instead, you unbuckle your seatbelt and turn your body towards him and you hesitantly raise your hand towards his face and subconsciously, he leans into your touch.

He stares into your eyes, like he’s longed to do for so long. Spencer’s eyes take down and the poor man can’t help it, especially with the way you look in your dress tonight. The way it hugged your curves, filled out your breasts perfectly and the way it cupped your ass the way it was supposed to. He was no better than a twelve year-old boy.

And what could he say? Spencer had a crush. Since the day you walked into the BAU. He’d fallen deep and hard for you, how couldn’t he? You were an amazing person, with an incredible heart and a loving personality. And he’d always thought you were gorgeous. But the real issue was him. How could you love someone like him? He’d had so many issues of his own, not to mention he’d been told he looked like an earthworm and a pipe cleaner with eyes. His hair was getting long again, his ties were always perpetually crooked, he was weird. He wouldn’t blame you for not liking him. Hell, he wouldn’t like him.

But that couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

“Close your eyes.” You tell him and Spencer is hesitant on doing so but you encourage him to do so as you stare into his eyes and say — “Just trust me.”

Spencer gulps but nonetheless, he closes his eyes. He’d pretty much do anything for you. You lean closer to Spencer and you lick your lips, leaning your head forward and pray this goes well. You’d kissed a man before, it’s not like it was your first time, but this was Spencer. And this was different than the other boys you’d had crushes on in the past.

And you don’t know what’s persuading your newfound confidence, but what do next definitely confirms it for Spencer. Your lips latch onto his and you’re so focused on getting this kiss right, you don’t even realize that he seems to be kissing you back.

And you kiss him. You kiss him until breathing becomes a chore, you kiss him until you feel content with how you’ve kissed him, until he stops kissing you back.

You back up, looking him right in his eyes and you smile to yourself. You don’t really know what to say and you can see the shocked expression on his face and suddenly you’re regretting it. Oh, God, why did you just do that? You just totally ruined your friendship with Spencer and for what? For the expense of a kiss? A kiss he probably didn’t even want? You suddenly want to cower in a shell like a turtle.

“I— I’m sorry, I—” But before you can apologize properly, Spencer pulls you back in for another kiss, holding your face there he unbuckles his own seatbelt and you pull off your jacket in the process and climb on top of his lap in the car.

You don’t want to crush him with your weight so you hold yourself up on your knees on either side of his hips. “I take it you like me, too?” You ask him with a small smile. “Oh, I’m crazy about you.” Spencer admitted, making you blush a bit as he continues to kiss you.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Spencer stops and you put another kiss on pause and look him in the eyes. “Are you sure you’re sober… enough for this?” This man… At least he doesn’t want to take advantage of you, despite your primal need of wanting him to. “I am, Spencer. I swear. I was a little tipsy earlier, but my head is clear. I know what I’m doing.” You say with a serious tone. “But we can totally stop right here, if you want—”

Spencer denies your offer, pulling you in for another kiss. One kiss on your lips and he begins to kiss at your neck. You begin to rock forwards and Spencer holds your plush thighs on either side of him, pulling you into him so you ground down on him properly. He gasps as you whine at the friction and you stare into his eyes as you are quick to unbuckle his belt and pull out his cock.

“Wait, I don’t have a condom.” Spencer tells, almost pushing you away. “I’m on the pill.” You tell him. “But we can totally stop by a store and get one.” You suggest to him.

He considers this for a moment but he’s fantasized about this moment for a long time and every time he jerked off to the thought of you, he always imagined filling you. He actually imagined a lot of things that had to do with you.

“Would it be okay… if… we didn’t… use a condom?” Spencer asks shyly and you smirk, “That is definitely okay with me as long as it’s okay with you.” Spencer nods vehemently, “It’s definitely okay with me, too.”

So, you move your underwear to the side and straddle him. “I’ve… I’ve only done this one other time, so please bear with me.” You confess but Spencer doesn’t mind.

You settle yourself right down on his cock and gasp as he fills you, wrapping your arms around him and the seat behind him. “Oh, God!” He exclaims, calling you by your name.

You back up, looking down at him and his eyes are blown with lust and love. His hands rest on your thigh, running his hands over the smooth skin and one of his hands makes its’ way to your face and his thumb rubs underneath your eye, gazing into your eyes. “You’re so beautiful.” You shake your head at him, shyly but he doesn’t back down. “I mean it, Y/n. You’re beautiful. I’m not just saying this.”

You rock against him as you place your hands on his shoulders to brace yourself. “You’re beautiful too, doc.” You admit to him and lean close to his earlobe. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

“I feel like I should be saying that to you.” Spencer tells, wrapping his arms around your body. “And seeing you in this dress… Jesus. You’re gorgeous.”

“Stop saying that.” You tell him, wanting to spare the comments from your mind if this was nothing to him. “No, I won’t. Because you are, Y/n. I want… I want it all. I want everything with you. Will you let me give you that? Please.”

You have to admit, you like seeing this side of Spencer Reid. The side that’s begging to have everything with you. The sight of him beneath you. You hold him tightly as you bounce up and down on his cock.

“God, you feel so good.” You tell him and his hands are everywhere on you. “So do you.” He chokes out.

“Spencer…” You gasp, rolling your hips on him. “I-I love you.” He confesses. “Please let me love you.” You back up again, seeing that pleasing look on his face and you stare down at him. “I-I love you, too. I love you.” You say and you say it with such certainty. If there was anything you were certain of in this moment, it was this. It was him. It was always him.

“I’m—I’m getting close.” Spencer whines and his hands quickly make their way to under your dress and he begins to rub your bundle of nerves and you nearly shriek at the motion, wanting to close your thighs together but he keeps them apart, wanting to see you fall apart in front of him. “Jesus, oh, my God! Spencer!” You moan out and he stares into your eyes, “Cum on my cock, sweet girl. Please.”

You shudder against him as you feel his cock throb and he fills you with his cum and you collapse against him, not caring anymore if you were crushing him with your body. All that mattered was that you were with him, here and now. You both pant and you feel as he rubs your back with his hand and kisses your neck.

You run a hand through his hair and chuckle to yourself. “Spencer…” You sigh. “Yeah?”

“Never ever get a new car.” He keeps that promise.

[tasteracha]

a/n: hey @chvnnie remember when you asked me to write this like a year ago? i did it. inspired by that one skzcode clip of seungmin teasing felix and felix getting pissed off. warnings: seunglix x afab!reader, meanish dom felix, sub seungmin, smut - MINORS DNI.

you’re woken up by jarring voices, the tv that had been providing you background noise for your slumber having gone to sleep shortly after you did. it takes you a moment to identify the sounds, your brain coming online a few moments after your heart, beating rapidly in your chest from being kicked out of unconsciousness so abruptly. 

“you don’t have to be so fucking mean all the time,” you register felix’s voice first, a dangerousness hiding in his dark tone that doesn’t come out often. he’s usually so positive even when he’s in a bad mood, optimism cracking away at any negative emotions in a way you admire. 

“i wasn’t being mean,” seungmin scoffs in return, and you can hear him walking down the hallway towards the living room where you laid with bated breath. “you’re just being sensitive, lix.”

oh, he’s done it now. 

seungmin sees you first, a blinding smile taking over his face as he walks over to you to run a hand through your hair. you relax into his touch, relishing in the comfort while knowing that a fight was about to break out soon - you knew the difference between felix being sensitive and being genuinely angry. 

right now, even without seeing his face, you knew it was the latter. 

felix walks into the room and you swear he looks six feet tall, standing with his arms crossed and a look on his face. it makes you shiver though it isn’t directed at you, and it goes unnoticed by seungmin even though his hand is still buried in your hair - he was too occupied with smirking at felix, pouring gasoline into a fire that was already blazing towards the ceiling. 

you know what they say, play with fire and you’ll get burned. you hope that seungmin was prepared for what is about to occur. 

“you want me to take care of this, lix?” you ask, your role of Professional Seungmin Tamer coming increasingly more natural as the days went on. it is a last ditch effort to calm the flames. 

“no,” felix’s jaw is set in a hard line, and you can see his teeth grinding together. “i’ll take care of him myself.”

“take care of him myself,” seungmin mocks, snickering to himself for a moment before choking around it from the sudden feeling of felix’s hand around his jaw. felix has moved like a ghost, crossing the room in quick strides and covering seungmin’s body with his own in a silent motion. seungmin’s hand falls from your hair, reaching up to wrap around felix’s wrist - not moving it away, but rather bracing himself against the storm.

seungmin is usually taller than felix, but he’s left looking up at him because of how his knees buckle. despite his clear disadvantage, seungmin lets out a growl at felix’s touch.

“awh, you going to bark for me?” felix coos at him, not an ounce of warmth behind his words. “puppy.”

“you wish,” seungmin hisses out, the breath leaving him completely when felix tightens his grip on his jaw and uses the other one to brace the back of his neck, trapping seungmin completely against him. 

“how can you say that when i can tell you want me so bad already?” felix says, looking something wicked as he wedges a thigh between seungmin’s legs. from where you are you can’t see the younger man’s crotch but you’re certain that his jeans are tented with arousal; your own core was starting to pulse with heat just from watching them, despite you not being touched by either of them. 

“i don’t want you,” seungmin scoffs, trying to turn his face out of felix’s grip and failing. he was lying; seungmin always wanted felix, but nine times out of ten it was on his own terms. you can only imagine how fast seungmin’s head was spinning right now at the sudden change in dynamics. 

watching seungmin twitch his hips against felix’s thigh was maddening. this is the first time you’ve seen felix take control of seungmin like this. maybe felix would make seungmin ride his thigh - that was something you’d be delighted to see. 

“then why are you so hard?” felix’s mouth twists into a grin, wicked and sharp, as he presses his leg further forward, putting pressure on seungmin’s cock and making him moan. 

seungmin, for all his false bravado, submitted beautifully and easily when it was for you. it didn’t surprise you that he did it for felix too, but the sight of his muscles losing their tautness all at once was something to behold. he falls into felix’s arms, boneless and grinding his hips in little circles against the older’s thigh, the fight drained out of his body as quickly as it had arrived.  

“i hate you,” seungmin mutters weakly against felix’s chest as he chases a high he must know he won’t be allowed just yet. the fight left his body, not his mouth, evidently. 

“you’re just making this worse for yourself with every word,” felix chuckles, dry and mean, as he turns seungmin around and pushes him roughly forward. seungmin stumbles and throws a glare over his shoulder, but the effect is lost when he continues to let felix manhandle him. 

“baby,” felix calls out to you, his tone shifting to warmth instantly. you perk your head up and you can’t suppress the shiver that wracks through your body as he cocks his head towards the bedroom while leading seungmin there, a clear invitation to join them for whatever felix was planning to do. you’re on your feet before you can blink, anticipation burning through your veins. 

you have to pause and take a deep breath when you reach the door frame before going in; you knew that what was about to happen was like a fantasy pulled from the deepest depths of your mind. when you gather the nerve to peek inside, seungmin is already naked on the bed, his bottom lip hidden between his teeth as felix fastens his wrists to the headboard with the soft ropes that typically adorn his own. 

“open your mouth,” felix digs his fingers into seungmin’s lips, ignoring how the younger thrashes against the bonds keeping him in place. felix leans forward so that he’s kneeling over seungmin and slides his free hand into his dark hair, scratching softly at his scalp before curling his fingers into a fist and pulling.  “this is all the lube you’re getting, so unless you want me to fuck you dry you’d better do as i say.”

the words sound unpracticed as they spill out of felix’s lips, but seungmin’s lips part with a gasp nonetheless. he chokes on the digits as felix explores his mouth, reaching every crevice and swiping around his annoyingly white teeth. his fingers coming out glistening with saliva, wet and dripping as he lines them up with seungmin’s hole. 

felix opens seungmin up brutally, sliding two fingers in and cooking them up with a look of satisfaction on his face when seungmin jumps. it was a caricature of their usual dynamic, with felix typically melted into the sheets as seungmin uses him however he sees fit. felix finds seungmin’s spot with practiced ease, letting out a laugh when seungmin cries out at the intense pleasure. he avoids it after, scissoring his fingers almost clinically, teasing seungmin with the sensation that is so close but that he won’t be granted.

contrary to his claim, felix squirts a generous amount of lube on his cock once he undresses before he pushes in slowly, letting seungmin feel the drag of every inch. the younger’s breaths come out in violent shudders, and as you step closer to look his pupils are almost completely blown over his irises, barely a hint of chocolate brown to be seen. 

felix presses a kiss to seungmin’s forehead when he bottoms out, the gentlest touch he’s given him since he started. it shows how spaced out seungmin is that he leans up into the touch, craving felix’s touch like he would starve without it. seungmin’s eyes are glassy, a spaced out expression taking over his face that you’ve never seen before. he tends not to let his guard down, even during the most intimate moments that you share, and you hope that you get to witness this again. 

felix keeps a steady pace, dragging out slowly before pushing back in with a snap, driving seungmin further up the bed with every movement. 

“love?” felix calls out, and both you and seungmin make a noise. you know that felix was talking to you only when he ignores seungmin completely, continuing to snap his hips, pulling breathy whines from seungmin with every thrust. “will you come here?”

he says it like a question but your body thinks of it as a command as you float over to him, stopping just inches from the bed. felix unfastens seungmin’s wrists from the headboard, keeping them pinned together, and pulls him up. he turns him and wraps his arms around his chest until they are both kneeling upright, flush against one another. his cock remains buried inside of seungmin the whole time and you can’t help but give him a look of impressed approval. he looks pointedly at you and then the space he cleared out in front of seungmin in response, and you flush as you kick off your sweatpants and climb into the bed, laying on your back. 

when did felix learn how to tell you what to do with just a look? you didn’t know where this was coming from, but you loved it. 

felix places seungmin gently onto you with the carefulness that you expected from him on any other day. if it weren’t for him not wanting to crush you with seungmin’s weight, you were sure he would have thrown the younger onto the bed with little to no thought. seungmin settles against you like he belongs there, nuzzling his face into the juncture between your shoulder and your neck, and you can feel how hot his cheeks are against your skin. his cock settles between your thighs, hard and rigid, and you let out a sympathetic hum when felix stops him from rutting up against you. he reaches around seungmin and lines the younger man up against your hole, a little clumsy with his movements, and you can feel his leaking cock twitch against you. 

felix pushes seungmin into you with a snap of his own hips, driving himself deep into seungmin as he gets buried into you in one motion. the moans you and seungmin let out harmonize into the thick air, the scent of sex swirling with the noises in a colorful kaleidoscope. the colors burst into fireworks as felix sets a fast pace, pleasuring the both of you so naturally. 

felix leans past seungmin to kiss you over the younger’s head, and seungmin keens at the sight of it. he’s sandwiched between the two of you, chasing pleasure from every angle, and witnessing the two people he loves most in the world make out on top of him - you’re not sure that he can even think in coherent sentences right now. with his cock surrounded by your tight heat and felix’s own ramming into him, you’re surprised he can even keep his eyes open. you know that this is the moment where he surrenders himself to felix completely. 

you reach your limit faster than you ever have, your clit untouched and throbbing; just the obscene sight of seungmin being used between you and felix is enough to bring you to the brink of pleasure.  

“seung- lix, can’t,” you gasp out, every push of felix’s hips driving seungmin’s cock further into you, making you jolt - it’s too much. 

if it’s too much for you, you can’t imagine what it’s like for seungmin.

you thought that felix would take pity on you and let you finish, too focused on punishing seungmin, but instead he pulls out of the younger man and pulls him out of you with a harsh pull. 

seungmin all but wails at the loss, bucking his hips down onto the mattress. you hadn’t realized how close he was, too lost in your own high, but his brow was pinched and his lips were twisted just right to tell you that he was. 

“please, please,” he begs, flipping himself over to kneel in front of felix. “let me come, please.”

“you think you deserve to after what you did today?” felix looks down at him, eyes cold as ice. your own neglected orgasm was brushed away by the sight of seungmin begging. he was usually too proud to beg, too in control of situations to even need to, but in this moment he was completely helpless to felix’ whims. 

“i’m sorry,” seungmin loses control over the tears brimming in his eyes, fat tears dripping onto his cheeks. “‘m sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to-”

he falls forward into felix’s chest, entire body shaking with his shuddering breaths, and you see felix falter for the first time tonight. he looks at you with slight panic, the coldness melting away into affection towards the man crying into him, and you simply nod at him. you know what to do, you blink. you can do this, you smile. 

“puppy,” felix shushes him, running a hand down seungmin’s spine. “it’s okay. you’re being so good for me now, right? my good boy.”

“‘m good,” seungmin hiccups into felix’s chest, nodding his tears into felix’s skin. 

“you’re sorry, and you’ve been punished, right?” felix coos at him, trailing his blunt fingernails up and down seungmin’s back. “you’re alright.”

“i can come?” seungmin’s words come out nasally from his tears. 

“yes, puppy,” felix moves his thigh so that it’s between seungmin’s legs, trapping his weeping cock against the flexed muscle there. “take what you need.”

seungmin whines out a broken thank you and starts his hips at a rapid pace, chasing the high that he had been denied over and over. you lose count of the sniffles, whines, and moans he lets out, but you can tell exactly when he comes because his entire body seizes and his throat constricts around a high keen. 

felix strokes his back through it, shushing him and pressing gentle kisses to his cheeks and face. you can’t help but smile at the gestures, a little overwhelmed at how naturally felix fell into this rhythm.  your smile freezes when his own turns sharp, and he winks at you before flipping seungmin over and sliding back into him. he pushes seungmin down onto the bed and the push of hot breath he puffs out at the impact hits your forgotten cunt. felix pushes one hand down onto seungmin’s nape as he fucks back into him, chasing his own high and nurturing your own. 

you can feel seungmin’s lips trembling against your core with every thrust, his body pushing up against yours until he’s trapped between your legs. he licks at you un uncoordinated motions, but it’s enough. a few beats of time later, between the harsh slaps of felix’s thighs hitting seungmin’s ass and seungmin reaching up to squeeze his hands around your thighs, you come with a content sigh. your legs tighten around seungmin, keeping him close as your hips jerk against his mouth, and the sounds of felix coming are drowned out by the blood rushing through your ears. 

the next few moments pass by like snapshots, blurred images separated by shocks of camera flutter, and by the time your brain catches up with your body you’re laying down in a new position. your head is pillowed on felix’ chest, him sandwiched between you and seungmin, the latter’s fingers tangled between yours. 

“what the hell just happened,” you blink a few times, jaw almost dropping open when you see the utter contentment on felix’s face. 

“i think i discovered something new,” felix’ voice is languid, rumbling against your ear like a muted symphony. 

“if this is what it takes for you to learn things, we need to piss you off more often,” you tease, teasing a finger around felix’s nipple just to hear him hiss and see the soft glare he sends towards you. like a kitten. 

a puppy and a kitten; what were you going to do with these boys?

“speak for yourself,” seungmin mumbles from felix’s other side, coming back to himself slowly. he glances blearily at you, and his drying tear tracks and red rimmed eyes make him look so incredibly beautiful. “i can’t move a single one of my limbs.”

[mayakern]

In light of finding out that there's actually people out there being jerks to you in your inbox, I wanted to tell you how much joy you've brought into my life without even knowing about it! My girlfriend introduced me to your art and your clothing and I've been a huge fan ever since! Your art makes me feel more comfortable in my own skin and see beauty where I hadn't thought to look before, and watching you succeed puts a smile on my face. I wish you and your wife a long and happy life full of joyful memories and interesting stories!

aw thank you, this is so incredibly sweet 🥺🥺🥺

we did have a couple ppl being weirdly combative at the combo of me asking why ppl hadn't purchased from the canada store (this was a genuine question to see if there were issues we didn't know about, which there were) and then me talking about what a rough position the business is in currently, but largely people have been nothing other than extremely kind and supportive and wonderful.

i think it often comes down to the sad reality that when a small brand like us, which is more expensive than fast fashion in large part because we use certified ethical labor, talks about our financial/sales issues in a time when most people are struggling, people sometimes get defensive.

even if i am not being aggressive or mean or blaming our customers--i am also a non-wealthy person who lived through 2024, i have not at any point been unaware of just how difficult things have gotten and i don't blame anyone for their financial situation--because of the type of business i run, seeing me or the business fail can make people feel guilty. because even tho a lot of people try not to think about it, when you buy a fast fashion shirt for $5--or when you buy several, knowing that they'll fall apart after just a few wears--there are so many "invisible" costs. knowing that you can afford a shein clothing haul because someone was, at best, paid pennies to make the garments wears a person down. knowing, too, that that piece of clothing that was made by exploiting other humans is going to end up in the trash relatively quickly also takes its toll.

for a lot of people, fast fashion is all they can afford. and also for a lot of people, they have convinced themselves that buying a higher quantity of cheap garments that will fall apart quickly is more affordable or a better deal than saving up for one more expensive piece that will last them multiple years. after all, buying a single garment that you'll wear for years doesn't give you nearly as much of a dopamine hit as getting an entire clothing haul that costs the same amount up front.

and i think because of this--because a lot of people make this choice and do not feel proud of it--when they see me or my business struggle, they project their own feelings of guilt and assume that i must be blaming them personally. that i am figuratively breathing down their neck and haunting their closets.

the truth is, i know the path i have chosen is not the easy one. i could probably make a lot more money and live a lot more comfortably if i operated on a business model that more closely resembled fast fashion. but for as long as i can afford them, i would like to stick to my ideals. and i don't blame other people for not being able to do the same.

[bottledfool]

At the risk of making this too personal, this was the exact sort of thing I thought prior to even knowing someone could be trans, and once I learned, I'd thought of myself for so long as just a cis guy who thought about what it might be like to be a girl that it took a long time after that for me to even entertain the possibility that I might be trans.

I don't mean like "is twice a month recurring?" I mean I would think about it every single day and would justify it in my head that anyone would be curious like that. Any time I would see a pretty girl, my first thought would be "I wish I looked like that," and I'd been thinking that sort of think for almost my entire life by that point, so to me that just seemed normal. Even once I realized that not everyone thought that way all the time, I still just told myself there was probably some other reason why I was thinking about being a girl all the time.

What finally made me accept that I'm a girl - and I'm significantly happier for it - was telling multiple people, including my significant other, about how often I felt this way, and them having this exact reaction of "You've answered your own question." All this to say that, if you're questioning whether or not you may be trans, tell someone you know you can trust. Odds are someone else in your life can either help you work through your doubts or already knows things about you that you may bit be admitting to yourself. It took me over thirty years to finally accept myself for who I really am. If even one person can read this and take less time than I did, that would be more than I could hope for.

[sagstelliums]

18+ How are you viewed in bed (PAC) *follower request

Pile 1

Your partners think youre moody when you’re not sexually satisfied, they view you as someone who’s submissive and like dominate partners. They view you as someone they can have a relationship with, they view you as someone who’s good at dirty talking or they like dirty talking with you. Your partners view you as honest and they like how untamed you can be, they like when you tell them or show them want you want and how you want it. They think you’re good at pleasing your partners because you have an open mind, they think you’re good at kissing/they love your lips. Your partners love looking at your reactions when they’re inside you or on top of you, they think you have a nice face and you have nice facial expressions during sex. They view you as someone who’s kinky and into some taboo things sexually, they like when you where sexy clothes to bed. Your partners really like your chest, legs and feet. Signs- Sagittarius, Capricorn, Leo. Sagittarius in 2nd house, Gemini in 3rd house. Initials- R, U, B (Rob/Robert?)

Pile 2

Your partners view you as someone who cums hard/a lot or you make them cum hard or a lot, they think it takes a long time for you to cum or they know you need a lot of foreplay. They view you as someone they can be with for a long time because they think youre very compatible sexually, they view you as someone who’s has a lot of stamina. They think you like slow sex more than fast sex/quickies, they think you believe sex is better when it’s really intimate and you have feelings for the person. They think youre experienced in bed because youve had a lot of partner, you’re so good in bed that you can make them catch feelings for you. Your partners really enjoy having sex with you and they wish they could have a stronger relationship with you emotionally, they miss sex with you and they often reminisce. They really like when you have your hair down, they like your red/burgundy or your hair when it has highlights. They like when you have long and curly hair or just long hair in general. They regret not treating you right or taking advantage of you. Signs- libra/sagittarius. Aquarius in the 8th house, Virgo in the 9th house. Initials- M, I, N, H, L

Pile 3

They view you as someone who has strong masculine energy or dominant energy, they think you’re good at hiding your feelings and you like challenging them sexually. They think sometimes you can be intimidating or they’re scared to be judged and you make the anxious, your partners really like your scent or the lotion/perfume you wear. They think sex with you can be intense and you’re able to make them cum fast, they think even though you have dominate energy you still want your partner to lead. They think you have nice skin and they enjoy caressing/touching your body, they like your backside and shoulders. They think sometimes you’re a tease, partners think that you’re out their league sometimes. They think sometimes it’s hard to focus during sex and look at your face because of how attractive you are, they think you have strong facial features. They think you’re only interested in having sex with people who want to date you and be in a relationship, they think it’s a lot of pressure to please you sexually. They think you’re not that verbal in bed or you may be shy but you hide it well, they like how reserved you are and how make them work for it. For some of you they really like your small chest/big butt combo, they like how defined your body is and they like your legs/thighs especially if they’re muscular. They think you’re a heartbreaker and it takes a lot to get close to you or to make you happy. Signs- Scorpio/libra, Aries or Sagittarius in the 8th house . Initials- B, I, K, P

Personal readings always available

Divider by @anitalenia

[whatbigotspost]

Dear fellow hyperverbal hyper empathic hypersocial or extroverted autistics/AuDHDers ESPECIALLY those also with a healthy relationships and self-growth special interest…….

🛑YOUR OWN RELATIONSHIPS AUDIT MOMENT!!!!!

🚫Who have you accidentally become an unpaid therapist to lately?

🚫Where are you forgetting to build or reinforce boundaries with others YOU need to be happy?

🚫What boundaries with yourself have you transgressed lately that are draining you?

🚫Who in your life if they were to text you right now, would you feel a big sense of dread because you have been hearing from them too much lately?

🚫Who in your life if they were to text you right now, would you feel a big sense of dread because you have been hearing from them too much lately?

💚Who in your life generally fills your well in an emotionally joyful, glimmer kind of way?

💚 Who upholds your same relationship values and works hard to create a positive relationship with you that meets both of your needs?

💚 Are you accidentally neglecting anyone who you love and wish you wouldn’t be?

💚 Who tries to anticipate your emotional and sensory needs so that you can be your best self when you guys are hanging out?

💚 Who shows that they are just as interested in hearing about how your relationships with other people are going as you are with theirs?

💚 Who helps you out with your own struggles when you need a shoulder to cry on?

💚Who “gets you” so well but you haven’t reached out lately because you’ve spent more time on relationships that are somehow more intellectually stimulating, but might not be what you need on a heart and human level?

Because of delayed processing, we often have to really think about these things not when we’re hanging out with our friends or family, but after… So truly take a moment and try to reflect on how you feel with the others you’ve been spending your time around lately.

🚫Is that new friend genuinely someone who brings you joy, or are you excited about the novelty of the new relationship?

🚫Is that old friend someone who really still has your back? Or have you been giving so much more than you’ve been getting back lately?

I was listening to a podcast today and heard myself in it in an in a very similarly-styled autistic, lovely young woman and hearing her talk about what she is going through at 26 made me realize even here at 40, DAMN I’ve done it again.

gotta go create some space so I am not lost in some relationships 🥲

[lets-try-some-writing]

On the topic of Jack's dad leaving and the bots reaction to it, what do they feel for June? Because I can imagine the thought of being left to deal with a sparkling all on your own because your Conjunx and fellow caretaker just straight up abandoned you and the sparkling, does NOT leave happy thoughts in their head. Like, having a Conjunx seems pretty rare as it is, especially in the tfp universe. So to know what is essentially the human version of one abandoned June?

I'm new to this. Straight up never sent an ask on Tumblr before, uh, hope this is all right?... 😶

(I'm projecting because my own dad abandoned me, wait whaaaat, who said that??)

I wish I could hug you through the screen, anon. Sounds like you could use it. That said, I can see the bots both being unsurprised and confused all at once.

On Cybertron it was completely normal for a single bot to take on a newbuild or sparkling to mentor. At the same time, it was generally seen as a good idea to have two or more mentors involved in the rearing of a sparkling in order to diversify their education and ensure their health and wellbeing. With this in mind, the bots were not initially all that concerned when it came to June raising Jack alone. Orion Pax was brought up by Alpha Trion and the Archivists. Ratchet was raised by an entire colony of mechs of similar origin, communal style. Arcee was taught by a school for newbuilds who were not taken in by single or paired guardians. Bulkhead had a teacher who took him in when he was young and got him through school before they parted ways. Bumblebee was the collective ward of Autobot High Command and referred to all of them as his Sires, albeit with slightly different tones. Smokescreen was raised by the Elite Guard pretty much the moment he signed on. Ultra Magnus and his brother raised themselves and Wheeljack grew up in a pack of other wild newbuilds.

Simply put, there was no real standard for a family on Cybertron outside of the higher castes. Your family was what you made it. So June's situation wasn't all that jarring... until it was.

Conjunxing was rare in the extreme back on Cybertron. It was to be bound intimately and permanently in a way that even scientists had to admit had some level of supernatural effect involved. To choose to Conjunx was a lifelong commitment, a true contract for the functionally immortal Cybertronians. It was even rarer for Conjunxed partners to break way from each other, often because both parties failed to survive for long afterwards more often than not. To hear that June had been Conjunxed by human standards and then been abandoned after having a sparkling as well?

Completely and utterly unheard of.

That was not to say it didn't happen back on Cybertron, but to leave ones partner AND a sparkling? That was social execution.

To hear that June had endured that level of abandonment shook the team. According to Cybertronian custom, to try and preserve the lives of guardian and sparkling it was widely accepted that the community was to step up in the other partner's absence. And so the moment the team registered the situation and translated it culturally, there was an instant shift in disposition around June in particular. There wasn't much they could do for the human women, but they could step up in place of Jack's Sire, just as tradition dictated.

June found herself being talked to by Optimus about the loss of loved ones, earning her the story of how the Prime lost Elita-1 in an attempt to connect. Ratchet started leaving either cash that he picked up for June to use as needed, a small gesture to make up for his lack of available time. Arcee took it upon herself to step up and teach Jack the lessons a Sire would have taught, walking him through mature topics and offering the wisdom of her long life. Bulkhead did the same, trying to give what wisdom he could in the absence of Jack's other creator and even going so far as to share a few stories of his guardian back before the war to connect to the boy. Bumblebee, not having much experience in the field of parenting, instead chose to be more of a friend. He and Jack weren't particularly close, but he kept near to keep an optic on the boy in case he was having a rough day.

Neither Jack or June understood why the team adjusted their behavior and they didn't need to know. Custom would be upheld, even amidst war.

[sammyluvr]

✶ out of my head — spencer reid

cw : gn!bau!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, mental exhaustion, very little dialogue, unedited, 985 words. requested ! for my 900 followers event [ closed ] .

prompt : a motel bathroom + “i can’t get you out of my head.”

the town is small, the case is hard, and the nights aren’t restful. for this week, it’s two to a seedy motel room. spencer’s your roommate this time around, which helps nothing at all. you should be used to how beautiful he looks when he’s sleepy and just woken up in the morning, but it makes your chest tighten to the point where you nearly stop breathing. it’s not as if you haven’t shared a room with him for a case before, but there’s some weird intimacy about sharing this room.

he’s in the bathroom, washing his hands, as he’s been doing often this trip. the first time you walked into the room with him, go-bags heavy after a long flight, he sprouted off some statistic regarding the cleanliness of motel rooms, or rather the lack thereof. you think he was trying to cover up how nervous it made him, and you offered to take his sheets and blanket to the laundromat you passed. the signage had told you that it’s always open late. you certainly wouldn’t mind extra clean sheets either.

he refused, though, saying he’d do it himself if he really needed to, and that you shouldn’t have to do that for him. but you don’t really think about it in terms of should or shouldn’t, more so that it makes you glad to do anything for him at all. you stay quiet though, and let this one slide. as long as he sleeps alright, it’s fine with you. 

sleeping well is a relative term, of course. it’s two in the morning right now, and you’ve just gotten back from the station. hotch sent you all to bed after a break in the case. the night shift detectives will keep working until you all get at least a bit of rest.

you drift over to the bathroom, its warm light casting spencer’s form in soft shadow. he hears your sigh before your quiet footsteps, and turns his neck to look at you. he gives you a soft smile, drying his hands on the small towel. you try not to stare; he has very pretty hands.

“hey,” he murmurs, making no move to leave the bathroom. he can tell by the way you padded over that you don’t actually need the room for anything. that, and you used it and brushed your teeth first thing after getting back. you’ve already donned your sleep clothes, too. you move forward, and he steps back, leaving room for you at the sink. the heels of your hands meet the cool ceramic of the sink as you lean against it, facing him from less than a foot away. the bathroom most definitely is not a generous size.

“hey,” you echo, voice just as soft as his. to him, you sound even more tired than usual. resigned, even. he’s trying to decide if you’ll respond decently to him asking if you’re okay. you speak again before he can decide. “spence?”

“yeah?” he wants to call you honey, but he doesn’t. but the way you say his name is begging for him to respond with equal sweetness and intimacy. or maybe honey is doubly sweet and intimate, but to him, your voice saying his nickname like that is the same as if you called him baby. he’s shy, but he wishes you’d call him that.

you look at him with sad eyes and he wishes that look would go away. i can’t get you out of my head, you want to say. “i’m tired,” is what comes out, anticlimactic and falling flat on the tile floor.

but his eyes fill with sympathy regardless and he gives a little frown on your behalf. even if you were going to say something else, the words that leave your lips are just as true. you are tired, very much so. not just from the case or the lumpy bed, but from everything, you suppose. it’s a bone deep type of exhaustion, and somehow your growing love for him is the only thing you can think about these days. it’s pressing to get out and make itself known, and now it feels heavy and oppressive.

“it’s been a long day,” spencer agrees. he knows how you feel, at least in terms of the exhaustions, and that it’s really not about just today. but he also knows that you know that, and that there’s not much to say. not right now, at least. it’s not the time for that sort of conversation, he can tell.

you swallow, suddenly nervous. you’re asking yourself why the hell you walked into this damn bathroom, put yourself so close to him without the option to actually close the distance. but you sort of just want to hug him. you want to get it off your chest, because you think it’ll make some of the exhaustion go away. though things could certainly get worse.

“i can’t get you out of my head, you know.” this time, the words slip out before you can stop them. you’re not sure if it’s the right thing to say, the right way to tell him, but you suppose the meaning is implied and that you’ve gone out and said it, finally. that makes your shoulders drop, and a relieved huff of breath leaves your lips. even if he doesn’t feel the same, at least you’ve said it.

most other days, spencer would’ve kissed you, maybe after clumsily telling you that he can’t get you out of his head either. but today, you’re sagging and tired, so he pulls you into his arms with a certain sort of ease that tells you he doesn’t mind being close to you. he likes it, even. he presses a kiss to the bare skin of your forehead, and that’s your answer. he’ll stay stuck in your head, but it will be far more bearable because he loves you back.

[gabbytvclarke]

The dog and the postwoman PART TWO: The Sleepover

Part one here! ♥

• Summary: After meeting Arthur TV and filming her first pub golf, y/n heads back to the boys’ flat for a sleepover, where more sweetness with Arthur continues. • Pairing: Arthur TV x female!reader (Also friend!George Clarke, friend!ChrisMD and friend!Arthur Hill) • Slow burn fluff, newfound friends to something more? More of exchanged glances, light touches, etc. • Warnings: alcohol, swearing, innuendoes • Word count: 4,452 words Note: Arthur Hill will be either referred to by his full name or just ‘Hill’, Arthur TV will just be ‘Arthur’!

♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥

“Oh really?” Arthur questioned, his cheeks beginning to burn again as y/n turns to look at him. The closeness of their faces in the cramped taxi adding to the heat as they lock eyes and share giggle.

George clears his throat, feeling the rising tension. “Better than people shipping Arthur and Chris again!” He chuckles, turning to Chris, “The amount of edits of you biting Arthur is mental.” Y/n and Arthur laugh. George draws his attention to his phone, resting his head on his fist with his elbow leaning on the taxi door handle. Chris initiates more small talk with the driver.

Arthur looks out the window to try and calm his nerves, sobering up slightly and suddenly feeling a tad anxious after the boys mentioned them potentially being shipped. He wonders to himself whether the boys are teasing him because his crush is so one-sided, or whether they're teasing because y/n is into him too. Could she like him? Is she only nice out of pity because he's a bit of an oddball? He knows the only way to find that out is to speak to y/n directly, and because of that he begins to feel a weight on his shoulders. Y/n also watches the streets pass by through the window on Arthur’s side, every so often she glances to Arthur. She can see that Arthur's deep in thought, tapping his fingers on the car door and knotting his eyebrows together. She remembers seeing moments in videos where he gets into a daze, and doesn’t think too much about it. Just in case though, she breaks the silence in the back of the taxi.

“What film are we watching when we get in?” She asks.

“Hm, not sure. Chris will probably pick or else he’ll get in a strop.” George answers quietly with a smirk, waiting for Chris to retaliate but he’s still too busy talking to the driver.

“Probably something terrifying,” Arthur chimes in, louder on purpose so Chris can definitely hear, “Chris likes to make us watch films full of jump scares to ‘see our reactions’, though I really think it’s because he’s too scared to watch it alone.” he laughs at his own comment, feeling a bit more relaxed again.

“That’s so not true Arthur.” Chris states, his voice breaking halfway through. “God I need a drink when we get home.”

“I think you’ve had enough mate.” George quips.

“Of water, you dickhead.” Chris snaps back, throwing his head back against the headrest.

When they pull up to their flat, Chris pays the driver and wishes him a good evening as the other three make their way into the building. They all kick their shoes off and Arthur removes his dog onesie, which he was using as a coat after only wearing shorts and a T shirt underneath. George also whips off his pickle costume, wearing similar attire to Arthur the whole time too. They throw their costumes on the floor. “Oh hey guys… and girl.” Arthur Hill says, walking through to the entryway, not expect y/n’s presence. Everyone else greets him as Chris enters, throwing his pickle costume to the pile on the floor too, muttering something about binning them later. “You all look like you need big glasses of water” Hill chuckles, looking across each ex-player, his eyes ending on Chris and widening.

“Fuck the film, I’m going to bed,” Chris groans, heading to the kitchen to grab some water first, “I’ll grab you two some blankets and spare pillows. You okay taking one of the sofas too y/n?” Y/n looks to their huge comfy sofas and nods.

“I think I can handle a movie, if anyone's still interested?” George offers to the room. Y/n and the Arthurs accept. Y/n immediately plops on one of the sofas, patting and feeling it with her hands and smiles to herself at how they're as comfortable as they look.

“I’ll grab you guys some water and paracetamol… and some food too.” Hill says as he heads into the kitchen area, Arthur follows him but passes to go to the bathroom. George collapses onto the other sofa and gets Netflix up on their huge TV. Hill passes y/n a tablet and water, setting the other two on the shared coffee table. He sits himself next to y/n. “No, Hill. Come sit by me mate.” George calmly suggests. Hill looks to him confused, shrugs and obliges. Y/n is busy messaging Becky to even pay attention. George then whispers in Hill's ear and they look to y/n, who's still none the wiser, and Hill gives George a subtle thumbs up.

Arthur enters the lounge area holding a pile of fresh folded blankets and pillows balancing on top. “Chris says ‘good night’,” he grunts a half-arsed impression of a grumbly Chris. He wobbles his way to the sofas, dropping the pillows to the floor and the top two smaller blankets onto George and Hill, and taking the larger blanket to share on the sofa with y/n as he plops down next to her. "They're for us to use later." Arthur explains to y/n. She nods and drapes the blanket over them both.

“I’ve put a couple of frozen pizzas in the oven, you all should definitely eat something tonight.” Hill says.

“Thanks Hilly” y/n replies. George scrolls through the horror section on Netflix, waiting for everyone to agree. Y/n is open minded the whole time, whereas Arthur doesn’t want to watch one that he’s seen recently. Hill doesn’t fancy anything too gory and George just wants a film picked ASAP. The boys bicker a little as y/n watches on in amusement. Arthur makes himself comfortable, slouching with his arm resting by y/n. Y/n gets herself into a more relaxed position herself, but couldn’t deny feeling slightly chilly while she sits by the flat’s flimsy windows. She pulls her side of the blanket further up to her chin, sitting with her knees to her chest. “You cold?” Arthur whispers to her, while George and Hill are debating what makes a film 'too gory'.

“A bit, but I’ll be okay,” y/n replies. Arthur doesn’t have anything to chivalrously lend to her, not without being shirtless.

“Oh! Do you want to wear my dog onesie? I promise I didn’t spill anything on it.” He offers, throwing his half of the blanket off himself and standing to his feet, a little too fast and giving himself head rush. Y/n chuckles at his eagerness.

“Sure, thank you,” she answers, but by this time Arthur is already bringing the onesie over. She stands and puts it on over her postwoman costume. It was already big on Arthur, so it hangs even baggier on her, with her feet still tucked in the cuffed foot holes. She sits back down and pulls the blanket back over herself. “Much better,” she sighs contently.

“Don’t forget the hood!” Arthur grins, pulling the hood up from between her shoulders and over her head, giving her a couple of light pats. “There. Good girl.” He whispers as he leans in closer to her, a nod to her comment back in the last pub. Y/n scrunches her face up as she laughs, Arthur’s hand still on her head. He gently slides his hand down to her cheek, leaving it there for a second before setting it back on his lap. Y/n feels her face start to burn, thankful Arthur moved his hand away in time before he could feel it too, but also wishing he was cupping her cheek still. Finally, they all decide on a movie. Hill excuses himself to grab their dinner before it plays, then re-enters a few minutes later carrying two plates of pizza, which he had kindly cut into slices. George immediately grabs a slice. “Thanks mate,” he mumbles with his mouth full. As Hill gets himself comfy on his sofa again, George presses play on the movie. The four sit in silence while they watch and eat, ironically Hill eating more pizza than the others.

A particularly intense moment begins building in the movie, and y/n's body stiffens up. Arthur looks to her and can see her wide eyed and taking shallower breaths. "Ahh!" He suddenly screamed as he grabs her, the hand that was once resting behind her now grabbing her shoulder and his other hand reaching over and grasping her arm, making her jump out of her skin. She flinches so hard that the hood of the onesie flies back off. "Fucking hell mate!" George also calls out, pausing the film specifically to turn and shout at Arthur. Hill is sat in silence with his hand to his chest, panting slightly.

"Sorry guys, I won't do it again." Arthur chuckles, still holding y/n but he loosens his grip. The film continues. "Sorry," his whispers again but just to y/n, pulling her slightly closer to direct his apology gently into her ear.

"It's okay," she giggles back quietly, nestling herself more comfortably against Arthur. He smiles to himself as his attention turns back to the TV. After a while, y/n pulls the blanket up to her nose.

"Is it my breath?" Arthur jokes quietly.

"No no, my nose is cold," she muffles, which is true.

"Lemme see." Arthur replies, pulling the blanket off her face and pressing his nose against hers. "Oh yeah.' he whispers sweetly, his face lingering there for a moment as his warm breath fans her face. She pauses, even her pulse. He tilts his face to the side slightly and slowly leans in further, his lips not even an inch away from hers, before George chokes on his water. The sudden noise causing the pair to jump. They had almost forgotten that there are others present.

George sputters as Hill smacks him on the back. "Sorry. Wrong hole," he sheepishly croaks.

"Now we have to rewind because you forgot how to drink, a basic human task!" Hill whines.

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry," George murmurs, reaching for the remote and getting the film to where it was before it was interrupted. Y/n and Arthur share a look. Both sporting a shy smile, both wondering if the other could hear the other's heart pounding.

A jump scare happens and the whole room jumps, y/n is startled so much so that she grips Arthur's thigh in a panic. His eyes go wide. Her hand feels perfect on him, half over his shorts' leg and the other half on his bare skin - which feels like it's burning under her touch. His tongue swipes over his lower lip nervously. She realises what she's doing and slowly releases her grip, adjusting the blanket as an excuse to pull her hand away. She notes to herself how firm and hairy Arthur's thigh is, so rugged compared to his soft demeanour. "Scared?" He whispers teasingly in her ear.

"No..." She retorts, almost silently. He squeezes her closer to him sweetly and chuckles.

"Cute." Did he just say... Did she hear that right? She can't help the smile creep on her lips either way.

After the movie finishes, the group take a few moments to discuss what they think of the ending. Y/n is distracted by her phone pinging, so she leans over to check it, laying on her side but still curled up under the blanket. It’s a text from Chip, hardly making any sense.

‘I’m home and a live heehe was nice meetin you proper today. u should ask author out you wld be so leng leng together xxxx’

Y/n thanks him for the fun day and a good night message, returning her full attention back to the group conversation but staying laid on her side. “Y/n looks like a little cinnamon bun over there, you tired from the pub golfing?” Hill asks. Arthur turns his gaze back to her, his heart melting a little at how cozy she looks.

“A little tired, yeah,” y/n answers before yawning. The three golfers tell Hill about their day, each with their own little anecdotes. Arthur does a lot of the talking, keeping his voice lower for Chris’s sake. It sounds like liquid gold. Listening to the boys’ chatter, y/n feels her eyes getting heavy as her blinks get slower. And slower. And slower.

--------

Her eyes gradually open, thankfully only a tinge of a headache surrounding her, all thanks to Hill’s insistence of drinking water from the previous night. The morning rays cascade on her through the windows of the boys’ living room. She gently sits up and looks over her shoulder, confused to see a pillow behind her that she definitely hadn’t placed the night before. When she faces forward again, she can see Arthur laying on his back on the other couch, staring intensely at his phone. When she squints her eyes, she can just make out a chess game on his screen. “Morning,” she yawns, startling him out of his match.

“Oh! Morning y/n,” Arthur replied, casually locking his phone and rolling over to face her. Abandoning a game that just now, he was so focused on. “Did you sleep alright?”

“I did,” she replies and a groggy smile, “although I really need to brush my teeth.”

“Me too, I’ll see if the guys have any spare toothbrushes for us.” Arthur replies, before stretching and hopping to his feet. He shuffles out of sight before y/n leans over and grabs her phone. It’s almost dead, so she grabs the portable charger from her postbag and sits back on the sofa. Upon plugging it in, she notices a text from George from the early hours of the morning.

“Cuties 🥹”

With a photo attached. She clicks the message for a better look and her eyes nearly bug out of her head. The photo is of her laying asleep curled up on the sofa, phone in hand. However, Arthur was big-spooning her, in almost the fact same curled up position. She zooms in on the photo to see his arm is sandwiched between and his face is all squishy from his position - he was fast asleep too. She hearts the photo and saves it to her phone, feeling giddy. However, soon after she stops to think. ‘If he was lying with me here, why was he on the other sofa when I woke up?’ She starts to worry herself, scared she farted or snored or something and gave him the ick.

“Well that’s not the face of a morning person.” George stated, standing in the living room in just sweatpants and a baggy T shirt. His croaky voice startles y/n slightly before she chuckles.

“Just in deep thought,” she replies.

“About what, the photo?” George asks. Y/n shushes him and waves her hand at him aggressively. George rolls his eyes.

“Relax y/n, I walked past Chris’s room just now and they’re both gassing about Lord of the Rings stuff.” Which makes y/n grin. George takes a seat next to her on the sofa. “The photo’s pretty simple, he fell asleep next to you.”

“Yeah,” y/n nodded, “but what happened?”

“Not sure entirely, I was chatting to Hill and realised Television was suspiciously quiet, when we looked over we saw you two spooning.” George explains, “we figured we’d leave you both to your sleepy time and both headed to bed ourselves. We left spare toothbrushes out for you by the way.”

Y/n stands up and yawns. “Thanks Clarkey” she sends him a half smile before making her way to the bathroom.

“Wait,” he starts, “Looks like Arthur slept on this couch.” he gestures to the pillows and disarrayed blankets on the other sofa.

“Yeah I think he did, did you see him get up at all before you went to bed?” Y/n asks quietly, fully aware she’s closer to Chris’s room now.

“I didn’t, like I said, you were cozied up when we last saw you.” he replies. Y/n pauses to think, eyes serious. “If you’re worried, just ask him mate,” George suggests. Y/n nods and heads to Chris’s room. George shakes his head with a smirk and whispers “Young love” to himself.

When y/n gets to Chris’s doorway, she can tell the boys are in deep conversation. As soon as Chris locks eyes with her, he clears his throat.

“Oh, good morning y/n. You sleep well?” he asks, his voice higher than usual.

“I did thanks, sorry to interrupt the hobbit talk,” she starts, making the boys chuckle. Arthur struggles not to stare, but he can’t believe how good she looks first thing in the morning, although it doesn’t surprise him. “Arthur, there are toothbrushes awaiting us.”

They head to the bathroom and brush their teeth in a comfortable silence. When they're both finished and put their toothbrushes back in the spare glass, the brush heads happen to be pressed together. "Look," Arthur points, giggling, "our brushes are smooching!" Making y/n laugh. Arthur beams proudly, admiring how unreserved her smile is. Just before they head out, y/n psyches herself up and reaches for the hem of Arthur's shirt.

“Hey, before we go back out there, I have to ask you something.” His hand is already on the door handle, but he stops himself and turns to face her, feeling his chest tighten.

“Sure, what’s up?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I hate to be awkward, but George sent me a photo from last night.” She begins, unlocking her phone to pull the photo up.

“Is it the one of us asleep on the couch? George sent me the same one.” Arthur chuckles shyly, sliding his hands in his shorts pockets and finding it hard to look in y/n’s direction. His face quickly drops and a look of anxiety washes over him, thinking he's in trouble. “I am so, so sorry for that. I must’ve fallen asleep before I could even realise-”

“Oh that’s okay Arthur, really. I thought it was quite cute.” Y/n assures him. Colour starts to flood back to his face as he finally looks at her, a small smile tugs one corner of his mouth with relief.

“I was more curious to know what happened after you first fell asleep, I noticed you switched sofas during the night,” she explains, searching his face for an answer before he even speaks.

“I see,” Arthur nods slowly, and he begins to explain:

“I’m not sure when I fell asleep but when I woke up, I was still laying behind you, like in the photo. You were fast asleep and I kind of panicked. I didn’t want you to wake up and see I was laying up against you without any consent and think I was a weirdo or something. So I figured I should move to the other couch and hoped you’d not know about the accidental spooning. I very carefully got up from the couch. You looked comfy, but I could only imagine the neck ache you’d wake up with. So I grabbed a pillow from the floor and very carefully lifted your head and slipped it under. You looked so much comfier then. Then I got on my couch and I guess I fell asleep straight away, as I can't remember much else.”

Y/n sighs, she smiles and shakes her head. “You’re so sweet, you really are.” They look at each other for what feels like minutes. Arthur’s glances switch between her eyes and her lips. She steps towards him, her gaze never leaving his sweet smile. A knock on the bathroom door brings them both back down to earth. “Are you guys done? Sorry but I need a shit.” Chris’s voice is heard in the other side. The pair giggle before Arthur rolls his eyes and opens the door. He stands to the side to let y/n leave first but Chris barges in mumbling an apology. When the pair walk back out to the open living area, George is preparing breakfast. "Oh, there you two are," he smiles, "I'm just about to make some grub, would either of you like any?" Y/n politely shakes her head.

"I'm okay for now thank you, I should really head home and get out of this uniform before I stink the country up anymore!" She replies.

"I should go and shower too, do you want to share an Uber? I'll pay." Arthur offers.

"We can go halves." She grins back, then unzips the dog onesie places it on the sofa. As she does so, the smell of Arthur's aftershave mixed with a hint of beer breezes past her, a harsh reminder of just how much she fancies the man.

They head to where their shoes were discarded, preparing to leave. "Just so you know, you smell lovely." He whispers, his eyes then suddenly widening. "I mean- that sounded creepy- I just mean that you don't smell bad! You- you won't stink up the country!" He then blabbers, bringing his palm to his forehead with a disappointed grin.

"Thank you Arthur," she replies with a genuine tone and smile, letting him know that he's not a creep.

"Speaking of smell," Arthur starts, turning to face towards the bathroom, "Bye Chris, enjoy your shit!" A muffled 'fuck off' is heard retaliating from across the flat.

"Bye guys!" y/n adds on between laughs, she faces George "Please say bye to Hilly for me when he wakes up." George waves his spatula playfully, like a suburban wife waving out her husband.

"Good bye, loooove you!" He calls out in a soft, higher pitched voice.

The Uber doesn't take long at all to arrive outside the boys' building. Arthur rushes ahead of y/n, holding the door open for her. She bows her head as if to thank him and climbs in, Arthur following behind her. When y/n gives the driver her address, Arthur is shocked to realise that she only lives a 20 minute walk away from his place. With nothing but the hum of the car engine for a short while, Arthur breaks the silence. "You know, it's refreshing to meet someone who is just as nice in person as they seem in their videos."

Y/n is surprised by the sudden compliment. "Same goes to you," she replies, "and you really do go wild after only a couple of drinks." She then chuckles.

"You should give me your number, I'm sure Isaac, Italianbach, would love to have you as a guest on our Bach and Arthur podcast. We can set something up." Arthur cleverly tests the waters, still unsure if she likes him or is just super nice.

"Great idea!" Y/n chirps, holding her hand out for his phone. He passes it over and watches her type with a smirk. When she hands it back to him, he grins to himself we notices that she saved her name as:

'Y/n 🐶✉️'

"Very nice." He states, amused. Sending her a text immediately that makes her giggle:

'Woof woof 😉'

They talk amongst themselves about upcoming videos, y/n is excited to hear that Arthur plans on playing another Dress to Impress with the boys. Arthur notices that the driver is heading to his place first. "Do you want a coffee at mine, we can walk to yours after as it's basically just around the corner." He offers with a wholesome smile.

"I would love to, but I desperately want to have a shower before I see some of my friends this afternoon." She replies, a hint of disappointment in her tone. "Otherwise, coffee would be nice." Unfortunately for both of them, Arthur doesn't quite realise at the time that y/n is suggesting they go for coffee sometime, like a date.

Arthur only nods though, "That's fair enough. Well I'll text you about the podcast soon at least." He smiles, although if she were someone who knew him better, she'd notice the slight pensiveness behind his eyes. He wonders to himself whether she's actually busy or just rejecting him kindly. Though later that day when he follows her on Instagram, he'll see from her story that she was telling the truth.

As the Uber turns to Arthur's street and starts pulling over, Arthur gives y/n a tap on her leg. "Don't worry about paying me half by the way, it's my treat." He tells her, still wanting to be chivalrous as ever despite his self doubt.

"You don't have to, but thank you" y/n replies, feeling warmer than she did five seconds ago.

"I'm glad Chris invited you to pub golf, it was fantastic meeting you" Arthur states, words oozing in y/n's ears like warm honey, as he reaches out to shake her hand.

"You too Arthur, have a lovely day" She replies sweetly, taking his hand to shake it before boldly pulling him towards her and pecking his cheek, slightly catching the outer corner of his lips too. Arthur rushes to unbuckle his seatbelt and step out the car before y/n can notice his face turning scarlet. As the Uber pulls away, y/n turns to watch Arthur walk toward his building, noticing his hand is pressed to his cheek with a dopey smile on his face.

--------

Over the next few weeks, y/n and Arthur message each other animal facts and videos about dinosaurs and general science back and forth. They also plan her appearance on the podcast. One day, Arthur sends her a random Instagram post of a postman cuddling a puppy and adding 'it's us 🥹' to the message, making y/n go fuzzy inside.

When Chris uploads the pub golf video almost a whole month after filming it that fateful day. Y/n reads the comments with rosy cheeks, completely unaware that 'basically just around the corner', Arthur is sat on his computer chair doing the same.

Commenter 1: omg did you see the way Arthur looked at y/n????? ↳ Commenter 2: Fr fr he was smitten

Commenter 3: get y/n and Arthur in a team next time Chris

Commenter 4: y/nTV is going to happen I’m calling it now!!!!!!

Commenter 5: 23:37 chip says 'bros in love' DID ANYONE ELSE HEAR THAT ↳ Commenter 6: Right? That had to be about y/n!

Commenter 7: there's definitely some tension between y/n and arthur 😏😏 did you SEE that arm wrestle

Commenter 8: Y/N FREDERICK IS HAPPENING. feel free to come back to my comment in like 4 years time when they announce their wedding in a museum :)

--------

With both of them being too awkward to blatantly ask the other out or even admit their feelings, they continue their mix of friendship and flirtationship while their YouTube circle watches on in frustration. That's when Arthur Hill then decides to invite y/n to join him, Arthur TV, and George on a platform roulette video.

♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥

A/n: Here is part two! Thanks so much to everyone for their sweet reception of part one. I feel like this one wasn't as good, but please let me know still if you'd like a part 3! ♥ Tag: @ooostarwarsfandom501st - Gabby xo

[scuttlingcrab]

Regrets of the Living

Summary: Emmrich can barely keep himself together while Rook is trapped in the Fade. His routine is in shambles, his heart broken into a million pieces, as he tries to hold on to something, anything, to keep himself from drowning in despair.

Hello everyone! This is my first Emmrich and Dragon Age fic! Ahhhh!!! I really hope you guys like it, more to come... this damned necromancer has bewitched me, body and soul.

You can find it on AO3 too.

BTW! I'm open to receiving any/all prompts on Emmrich aka Bone Daddy, so please send away! xx

Emmrich Volkarin was a man of practice. It was something he prided himself in, an attribute he knew aided most of his accomplishments throughout his time in the Mourn Watch. In truth, he had his parents to thank for that. What memories he had left of them, he clung to like an anchor. 

Their professions were not as glamorous as his current station, no, but all the same, they had approached their routines with meticulous passion. As a butcher, Emmrich’s father trimmed each slab of meat as if he was a sculptor crafting a piece for the Maker himself. And his dear mother, once a cook, prepared ordinary dishes with the care and attention befit for Nevarran royalty. He was transfixed by how they moved in perfect harmony, performing the same silent choreography day by day. 

And so, just like his parents before him, Emmrich was always the first to wake. No matter the occasion, he kept this tradition, making sure to give himself enough time to complete his own tasks before dawn broke. 

He began his mornings with exercise, of course, after getting a sufficient amount of sleep required for a man of his years. His preferred method was stretching, deep movements for flexibility, to keep him limber, his posture pristine and core in check. This was a must, he thought, there was nothing more important than being attuned to one’s body, as that itself factored into the very art of spellcasting. It baffled him how some of his esteemed colleagues failed to undertake even the most basic forms of physical activity.  

Once satisfied, he would promptly bathe, shave, and pick his wardrobe, all of which was concluded before the sun even began to peak its rays over the horizon in the lands above the Necropolis. 

Emmrich found comfort in this routine, in his solitude most of all. The stillness helped him concentrate, kept him grounded in reality as he mentally set the stage for what each day had in store. 

In the past these thoughts occupied lectures, composing bespoke lessons for his budding pupils, or perhaps even lingering on one of the recent cases of corpse whispering he had been assigned. 

Since arriving at the Lighthouse however, those thoughts had been replaced with worries about eventually fighting the Evanuris, and often simply trying to wrap his head around the ever changing fabrics of this part of the Fade he temporarily called home. 

But now… now in the days since Tearstone Island, all he could do was languish over Rook. His darling Rook. The woman who entered his life like a tempest, filling the void in his soul he never knew existed. Or perhaps he always did, but was too afraid, too much of a coward, to admit it had been there in the first place. 

Rook who was… who was gone, vanished from his life as quickly as she had appeared. 

Emmrich’s heart trembled as he went over the words he so desperately wished he could tell her. What he should have professed weeks ago. These residual emotions weighed the heaviest on his conscience, the pressure nearly crippling him. The quietude he once held so dear was deafening, replaced by the never-ending nightmares of his current reality. Of the aching loss. Plagued by his memories, his insecurities, and how he impetuously wasted his last hours with Rook on a petty squabble.

You fool. You stupid, miserable fool.  

Wake. Stretch. Bathe. Shave. Dress. 

Emmrich kept this routine as best as he could, craving the familiarity, while time moved on around him. Each day he searched for Rook, for a tear in the Fade, for a sign of his beloved. The mere thought of her ripped through the cracks of his armour like a griffon. What he had spent years building and perfecting was so easily destroyed, his heart along with it. 

Wake. Stretch. Bathe. Shave. Dress.

Repeat. 

Wake. Stretch. Bathe. Shave. Dress.

Repeat.

Wake. Stretch. Bathe. Shave. Dress.

Re…

Emmrich couldn’t remember what day it was. He had not slept, that much was for certain. His eyes were heavy, longing for a moment's respite, his movements slow and sloppy. A dull pain radiated from his tailbone, travelling up his spine and he flinched. If only he sat down, rested his head on…

“No.” He said aloud, his own voice startling him. 

He paced his room like a caged animal, focusing his attention back to the Fade. To the wretched prison that still held Rook. Emmrich had missed something. That had to be it. If only Bellara was here, he could’ve… 

Emmrich destroyed that train of thought before it became another weapon against him. He only had so much room for grief and he needed it for Rook, he owed her that much. He would mourn Bellara’s absence at another time. Properly. 

Footsteps suddenly came from the hallway, approaching his quarters. Emmrich froze, and for a fleeting moment, hope coursed through his veins as he imagined Rook barging through the threshold, toppling him with one of her many heated embraces. 

“You missed breakfast. Again. ” A voice growled, as the door creaked open.

Emmrich's world turned back to ash when it was Lucanis who peeked his head inside. 

“Oh… yes, it seems I have. Don’t trouble yourself on my behalf, please.”

Lucanis entered the room regardless of Emmrich’s protests, trudging straight towards his desk. He held a silver tray, full of porridge, assorted fruits, and some tea. He replaced the tray that already occupied the surface, which still had yesterday’s untouched meal. Lucanis let out a pained sigh. 

“If you keep this up Manfred will no longer be the only skeleton in this Lighthouse.” 

“Spare your concern for someone who needs it, Lucanis. I will eat. Later.”

Lucanis twitched slightly, his eyes flickering purple as he allowed Spite to have the next words. Emmrich bit the side of his tongue, bracing himself for what complaint they might throw at him next. 

Spite vigorously sniffed the air, scowling at Emmrich. 

“He smells worse. Sorrow. I’m sick of it.”

Emmrich tensed, his temper bubbling to the surface like some form of blight. He took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself, to cease the corruption from growing within him any further. Of course Lucanis, the others, were only doing what they thought best. They were a team who had just lost their leader, their friend… but the longer he spent dawdling about in idle conversations, listening to their qualms on his appearance, was time lost. Time wasted. He needed to focus on the Fade. On Rook. 

Lucanis twitched again as Spite promptly retreated. 

“Spite. What did I tell you?” There was a pause as both Lucanis and Emmrich waited for another jab, but there was only silence in return. “Sorry. Spite is getting testier. We all are.”

Emmrich bowed his head in agreement, watching as Lucanis slithered back towards the doorway. 

“Neve and I are leaving soon, she’s heard new reports of Solas’ movements in Minrathous. We could use–”

“Thank you, but no. I’m afraid I still have some work to do. Taash or Davrin would be better suited to accompany you for the outing.”

Lucanis’ eyebrows furrowed at Emmrich’s words, his lips tightening as he reluctantly nodded. The door slammed upon his exit, once again leaving Emmrich alone. 

Emmrich dragged himself towards the desk and sagged into his red leather chair, finally succumbing to what felt like the force of the entire world on his shoulders. His eyes caught sight of the food in front of him. He lifted a spoon questionably, picking at the porridge, digging through it as if he might find some hidden answer to this madness at the bottom of the bowl. With an exasperated breath, he shoved the tray aside, burrowing his head in his hands. 

“Ugh…” A shrill sound came from behind him, “What has become of you, Volkarin?”

“Johanna, must you start?”

“I don’t know what’s worse,” Johanna began, “watching my life’s work tragically ripped from my fingertips, when I was on the cusp of greatness…” 

Emmrich’s ears were ringing, his head throbbing. The world began to spin around him, faster and faster, but he placed his hands on the desk, attempting to shake away the ailments. He reached for one of his notebooks, flipping through it as he pulled his thoughts together, refocusing on the Fade, on the task at…

“Or seeing you withering away, decaying… turning into a husk of your former self.”

Emmrich froze as he picked up a dip pen, fingers trembling as they hovered over an empty page. He could feel Johanna’s blistering stare on the back of his neck. 

“What do you hope to gain from these incessant protestations? Are you so desperate for attention that you would stoop so low, Johanna?” 

“Pah! I am only stating the obvious, as I’ve always done.” 

Emmrich squeezed the pen tighter, his fingers turning white. 

“Your feelings for that wretched woman will be your demise, Volkarin. I’m surprised it’s taken this long. Only an utter prat would allow themselves to—“

“Enough!” 

Emmrich’s voice reverberated through his chambers, slashing Johanna’s words like a knife. He had only raised his tone in front of her once in all the years they’ve known each other. He had regretted it then, but today he had no remorse. He paused, suddenly realising he was on his feet, breath ragged as if he just sprinted through the entirety of the Lighthouse and back. His vision blurred slightly and he blinked, focusing his gaze towards the fireplace to keep himself centred. 

A soft hiss came from the staircase and Emmrich turned towards it, eyes locking with Manfred. His ward stood there, watching him, mouth slightly ajar. He had not heard Manfred descend from the loft above as he carried a hefty stack of books, volumes Emmrich had requested a short time ago for more of his research. Manfred tilted his head cautiously the longer they stared at each other. 

“Hurt.” Manfred eventually blurted. 

“Manfred, I…” 

Emmrich’s right hand felt warm, sticky. How peculiar. He glanced down only to discover his fist clenched, blood dripping on the desk, all over his notes, his books... The pen was broken in two, one end still remained lodged in his palm. The food Lucanis had so thoughtfully prepared lay strewn on the floor beside him. 

“Ah,” Emmrich whispered, his cheeks burning in shame, “what a mess I’ve made…” He opened his hand, it stung at the small movement, but he held it up towards the firelight, examining it. A minor wound, albeit reckless, no underlying tissues exposed… but it was deep, and he would need to stop the bleeding. 

Emmrich removed a handkerchief from a pocket with his uninjured hand. He carefully extracted the pen, before pressing the handkerchief to the wound. He healed himself with what available mana he had, finding that action exhausting in and of itself.

Manfred blurted out a few more noises and concerned hisses, and Emmrich ceased his movements; taking a moment to listen to him, nodding along to each point. Manfred’s worries, his unease at Emmrich’s current state… And in an instant, Emmrich’s heart softened. Looking at Manfred, a sliver of light peaked through the darkness, at what he had accomplished, of how much Manfred had grown since first floating into his life, of what he would one day become. 

“Alright.” Emmrich responded, giving into his pleas, “I shall. Yes, yes, I know. Thank you, Manfred.”

Emmrich retreated towards the back of the room, standing underneath the staircase. He faced the far end of his bookshelf, reaching towards a small golden skeleton bust. He pulled it towards him and it clicked. The bookshelf slid open with a low rumble, showcasing a small hallway that led to his bedchamber. He took a step forward, but not without stopping to look over his shoulder. Manfred was already by his desk, rushing to clean up the disorder he left behind without an ounce of judgment. Emmrich smiled softly to himself and continued inside.

His bedchamber was spacious, and decorated just as lavishly as the main area of his quarters. The room had a few circular windows, looking out into the expanse of the Fade that surrounded the Lighthouse. A large canopy bed sat at one end of the room, with thick lilac coloured curtains draped around it. The other end contained his lavatory, complete with a clawfoot tub, sink, and freestanding mirrors. 

As Emmrich walked towards the sink to wash away the blood, he halted, unexpectedly catching sight of his reflection in one of the mirrors. He gasped at the unrecognisable man who stood gawking back at him, at the state of himself, convinced it was some sort of sick farce, an illusion. His eyes first went to his clothes, how wrinkled they had become, how dirty. He cared for this ensemble once, how… how did he let it get to such a state? His shirt, which used to be a tight fit around his lean shoulders, hung over his frame slightly. He moved to his face, his eyes were hollower, dark circles carved under them… he raised his hands to his cheeks, his jaw, now covered in patchy stubble, weeks of growth left unattended. And his hair… unbrushed, frantic, maddening… he wouldn’t be surprised if he had gone greyer in the weeks that have passed.

Emmrich went to reach for his razor out of instinct, but stopped himself. Sleep beckoned him, and he needed to rest. His fingers still quivered and he could barely keep his eyes open. He wouldn’t be much good to Rook if he let himself continue to wilt like an unloved flower. He washed his hands instead, changing into a fresh pair of clothes and collapsed into bed. 

---

Emmrich woke with a start, his shirt sticking to his damp skin, heart pounding against his chest. The same nightmare plagued him still. In his slumber he heard Rook sobbing, heard her pleading, to someone, something… he tried to reach her, convinced he could see her in front of him, standing alone against the bleakness of the Fade. But when Emmrich reached out to grab Rook, to pull her towards him… he was yanked back, forced to awaken.

As he lay there, taking a moment to recuperate, goosebumps sprouted on his arms, a chill running through his entire body. There was a shift in the air around him, a slight electricity buzzing, and that’s when he heard it. 

Rook’s voice. It continued to echo around him, as if she was slightly out of view. 

Emmrich pranced out of bed, nearly falling flat on his face as he quickly dressed, throwing on what available clothes were in front of him. He passed by Manfred as he ran out of his bedchamber. 

“Manfred! Assemble the others. Hurry! Tell them it’s Rook. I know how to find her.” 

Emmrich didn’t wait for Manfred’s response, he was already sprinting from his room, jumping down the steps as he approached the Lighthouse’s main library. 

He continued following Rook’s voice, so distant, as if an echo, eventually finding his way to the music room. He came to a halt when he saw the grand piano. The instrument pulsed dangerously, vibrant colours sprouting from an irregularity as it resonated with the Fade. 

Taash was the first to appear, entering the room with a weapon held high, on the off chance there might be a fight ahead of them. Davrin, Lucanis, and Neve quickly followed suit, stopping near the threshold as they gaped in unison at the piano. 

“Quickly, Neve! We need to start probing… it’s thinner there, by the piano.”

“You better be right,” interjected Taash. 

“I’m certain of it.” 

Rook’s crying continued, her inaudible words intertwined with the pulsing hum of the piano. 

Neve’s eyes widened when she heard it and approached Emmrich’s side, positioning herself as she prepared her mana.

It happened in a blur, the magic coursed through his fingertips as he poured his entire heart and soul towards the piano. A light formed in front of them, growing bigger, and bigger, eventually forming an opening wide enough for maybe one or two of them to enter. 

Without hesitation, Emmeric jumped towards the light, plunging both of his hands inside. There was a moment, when his hands were merely suspended, floating in nothingness, until he felt Rook grab hold of him. Lucanis soon appeared, grasping her arms. And together they pulled, and pulled… 

The light spit Emmrich and Lucanis out, causing them to land on their backs and Rook on her knees beside them.

The opening instantly collapsed upon itself, vanishing in nothing more than a fizzle. There was a pause as Emmrich sat up, staring at Rook with concern. She was a bloody mess, wounds from the fight with Ghilan'nain still very fresh. Her dark brown hair was matted against her forehead, long scratches lined her cheeks, and her left shoulder lay slumped at her side.

Rook in turn inspected the room, meeting the gazes of the other companions huddling around her, until she eventually landed on Emmrich. He held his breath as the world slowed around him, as they stared at each other, their glances worth a thousand words, another thousand apologies. Rook attempted to smile, but the expression only looked pained, forced, her eyes dark with grief. 

She immediately fell towards Emmrich, hiding her face in his chest. He could only hold her in return, careful not to hurt her, to cause her any more discomfort. She began to shake uncontrollably as Emmrich realised she was sobbing. 

“Oh, my darling…” He whispered. 

A knot formed in Emmrich’s throat listening to Rook weep, feeling her tremble against him with each surge of anguish. Emmrich believed his heart would've been restored at Rook’s return, but it was only broken again, shattered into a million pieces at his beloved’s suffering.

He looked up at the ceiling to keep his own tears at bay. 

He needed to be strong for Rook. 

He needed to be better. 

--

Emmrich watched over Rook as she dozed off, as her chest rose and fell, like the softest wave against the Nevarran Coast. After bathing and dressing her wounds, she slept soundlessly, at peace with whatever horrors she had faced alone in the Fade.  

Rook insisted Emmrich stay, until she fell asleep at least, and naturally he obliged, pulling up a seat next to the chaise lounge in her room. Not only would he remain at her side, but he’d be there all night if she needed him to.  

Emmrich told himself he remained to reassure Rook, that if she woke, he’d be there to support her, to ease her back from any nightmare she might've had, but… the reality was, Emmrich stayed to comfort himself, to make sure they would never be separated again. 

Later, when Emmrich was positive Rook would not stir, he finally allowed himself to weep, crying silently in his palms as a plethora of emotions unraveled all at once. Nearly a month's worth of pent up frustrations, anger, resentments, sadness, longing... 

But Rook was alive. That's all that mattered. She had returned. 

Tomorrow Emmrich’s routine would begin anew, and he would confess everything to her.

He had to be brave. 

For Rook.  

For them.

[abusivelittlebunny]

omg would u ever write a full fic of ur arranged marriage au?/do u have any other thoughts on it i loveddd the comic

The new Queen of Spain

I will!!! I already have it planned out actually and ranted about it in the manic manner I do to some mutuals, it will be DELICIOUS and definitely my style which may not suit for some people but I ain't here to win a popularity contest.

For more thoughts on the arranged marriage au I'll be continuing below the cut, just hiding it in case you don't want to get spoiled!

Charles is 19 here, he's the oldest omega princess of Monaco. (I wanted him to be about the age that Carlos first met him at irl where he called him innocent looking)

His older brother, Lorenzo (28) is an alpha and the heir to the throne but he must surrender it after the war in which Spain conquered Monaco and made it into a vassal country. He would have been executed but Charles begged for mercy and offered himself to save both of his brothers.

His younger brother, Arthur (16), is also an omega and both him and Lorenzo are currently in captivity and are used as bargaining chips

Carlos is the alpha crown Prince and is 30, his current age simply because I find him more handsome and intimidating as well as disillusioned at this age which will be a key part in the story

His disillusionment mainly comes from having been set to marry the omega boy Princess of Holland, Max since he presented and the two of them did actually want to marry and had a sweet romance but the engagement was broken off by their fathers, the two kings, who were bickering so much it nearly started a war

Max was then married off to Christian Horner, who came from British nobility but with not enough power to take the throne for himself from his young wife

Daniel is also a Knight in the service of the dutch Royal family and is Max's not so secret alpha lover. He is hoping to marry Max one day but Max also has other alpha lovers and is less jaded.

Carlos doesn't forgive his father for ruining a marriage that could have been based on love and mutual respect but he is promised a bride even better than Max in Charles.

However Charles is already betrothed to Jules Bianchi and his father insists on keeping to that marriage.

As Carlos' father once again fails political negotiations which lead to another war where Monaco becomes a vassal country to Spain, the King of Monaco as well as Jules fall in battle.

Jules married Charles right before heading off to the war so their marriage, while based mainly on mutual love, was left unconsummated and Charles is now a young virgin widow who at first accepts his fate to become a nun in a monastery but upon Carlos Sr seeing the young princess, his fate is set to change

Sr lies to Carlos and says Charles has already been deflowered therefore unfit to be the wife of the future king and produce the next heirs to the throne. He instead deems it a better choice to marry Charles himself as a diplomatic way of asserting that he no longer wishes the war to potentially continue and establish alliance

Carlos is of course absolutely furious as he has been denied a bride he was set for for the second time. He has omega maids set to keep him company in secret in Lando and Oscar, but he would never be granted marriage to a simple servant despite his white lies to Lando keeping him hoping that one day they'd marry.

Lando is fully delulu, in love with Carlos since the first day they met, while Oscar sees things for what they are and he's the sort of sassy maid who has little patience for Carlos' promiscuous ways but he still feels a pull towards him. He's often the voice of reason Carlos needs to shut down to keep his pride

Fernando was a Spanish Knight and a close friend to Carlos Sr and through that connection he could arrange himself a very beneficial marriage to the omega son of the governor of Canada, Lance. Fernando is the one trying to reason with Carlos over the benefits of being spoiled on the options of political marriage with other gorgeous brides.

These brides include omega Princesses like George of Britain or Franco of Argentina, the omega son of the president of the US, Logan Sargent, or that of the governor of New Zealand, Liam Lawson, and let's not forget Charles' younger brother as well, Princess Arthur himself.

George is in love with the head of the British army, sir Lewis Hamilton but he is a divorced man with a still living ex wife in Nico, therefore his family won't allow him to request his marriage to the man. He also proves to be a prime bestie to Charles in these trying times, mainly because he despises princess Max and the enemy of my enemy logic stands. But that friendship may fracture once George starts to realise Carlos may be actually a good marital prospect...

Max is however a very chill rival to Charles in terms of their relationship to Carlos; Charles is at first scared of Carlos, he is a captive princess after all, he has no reason to fall for Carlos even if he is the most handsome alpha he has ever seen in his life. It is Max who reassures him that if he feels unsafe, he should go to Carlos because his heart is made of gold and he's the most trustworthy and kindhearted alpha he knows.

Charles both appreciates the advice but is also wary of the flame that clearly did not die out between Carlos and Max and his jealousy will only grow later down the line.

Talking of jealousy, Lando will be stirring shit with a wooden spoon because of the hatred he feels for Charles for stealing Carlos' attention away from him and it will be juicy.

The only non toxic couple here is once again Pierre and Yuki who are respectively a French alpha Duke and Charles' ally and a Japanese omega princess who is Max's ally. This doesn't mean they won't take part in the drama though.

Now, the fic will begin on the shitshow that is the wedding reception itself and rather than one mega fic I will be making multiple smaller ones set in this universe.

[tam--lin]

Books For People Who Liked Leverage and White Collar

I've always been a big non-fiction reader, and I'm particularly fond of frauds, scams, and white collar crime. Ever since I finished White Collar last year, I've been meaning to pull together a collection of related books. As you'll quickly learn if you dive into this list, the truth is often wilder than fiction. (A lot more FBI agents yelling FUCK YOU!! at each other across board room tables, for one thing.)

IMPORTANT! Please don't pirate! It hurts authors. Most of these books are available through your local library, including as e-books. You can help local bookstores by purchasing through bookshop dot org, or as audiobooks through libro dot fm.

Category #1: Stand Outs and All-Time Favorites

Bad Blood reads like a thriller, and I genuinely mean that. It's gripping, it's incredible reporting, it's just a jaw-dropping story. Theranos was one of the biggest corporate frauds in history, and Carreyrou masterfully details its rise and fall. Not to spoil what could be considered the book's big twist, but there's no one better to write it, either.

Empire of Pain is also masterful reporting by a well-regarded journalist, but it leans more family drama than thriller. This details the personal machinations that helped create the opioid crisis in America. [Leverage: Redemption 1x1, which IIRC was actually written before the Met removed the Sackler name from their exhibits. Also goes well paired with The Fall Of The House Of Usher.]

Rogues: True Stories of Grifters, Killers, Rebels and Crooks is a collection of Radden Keefe's writing for The New Yorker. It explores wine crime (Leverage 5x13 and White Collar 1x12 directly draw from this), a passionate defense attorney, whistle blowers, hit men, and international organized crime. While I recommend the book, much of this content is available for free at newyorker dot com / contributors / patrick-radden-keefe (you can use paywallreader dot com to legally get around the paywall).

Number Go Up moves quickly and is full of fascinating characters and unexpected celebrity cameos. You've got your cringe rappers, your coke-on-a-yacht billionaires, your Harry Potter rationalist poly cult. Seriously, I wish I could read this again for the first time.

Category #2: Odd, "Cozy", Strange

The Feather Thief covers a unique crime by a 20-year-old obsessed with fly fishing.

The Art Thief tells the story of Stéphane Bréitwieser, the most prolific art thief of all time. He stole during the day, from museums full of people, again and again - over 200 times, in fact. He kept his treasures in his bedroom. A fascinating portrait of a strange criminal.

Category #3: Grab Bag

Including stuff that's more adjacent to the topic but still of interest, books I got part way through, and books that are still on my TBR.

Chickenshit Club I'm part way through and enjoying, Never Split the Difference is GREAT and includes lots of true hostage negotiating stories, Fancy Bear Goes Phishing I couldn't get into but that could be because I don't need two pages of text explaining what a string is. (I'm planning on giving it another go.)

Anansi's Gold and The Corporation are both on my TBR; Con Queen of Hollywood is a riveting con story for the first half but gets a little bogged down in biography in the second half.

The Confidence Game is on my TBR and is a classic of the genre, Molly's Game is one of my partner's favorite books, and The Gospel Of Wellness does a great job at exposing how scammy the entire wellness industry is.

Genuinely there are SO many more books I could have included, and I might do another post at some point. Some books were left off intentionally, because I didn't care for them or because another book did it better. Some books were left off simply because my white collar/fraud/cons TBR is extensive and I can't include everything! And some were left off simply because I don't know about them. I'm always looking for quality non-fiction - please do share any related recommendations in the notes.

[handlemehyuck]

LEAVE A MESSAGE AFTER THE BEEP for boyfriend dreamies

♡a voicemail for mark˚ ⋆。

“i keep listening to songs i haven’t heard in forever, not since i was a kid or teenager, and they transport me back to that time. suddenly, i’m wearing pink converse and jean shorts and the t-shirt from my summer play. it’s saturday, and i’m sitting on the stairs waiting for my friend to arrive, sunlight all over the walls. we wanted to have a sleepover, but there’s church in the morning, so she’ll stay as late as she can, probably until we’re dozing off on the couch watching one of the dvds she brought. naturally, i have to think about you because music wraps around your life in a way it never will for me. we’ve probably talked about this. maybe the conversation took a different shape before, but what’s a song that takes you back? what’s a time you miss and revisit through music? do you have time to think about those things? your life is go go go, and i’ve made silly wishes on eyelashes about peering into your head. i’m a reminiscer, and i know not everyone is, but you’re a creative. you’re a writer—music wraps around your life in a special way, so the idea of nostalgia visiting rarely seems unrealistic? but i guess i can’t know until you tell me. i see it often. i see it when i’m out without my glasses. the distant view is blurry, and suddenly, there i am, riding a bike, pink converse on. what shows up in your blurry nostalgia view?”

♡a voicemail for renjun˚ ⋆。

“babyyyy, i had the best time tonight. i feel like i’m covered in stars. areum’s parents have this sprawling backyard, so we collected a bunch of blankets, packed a picnic basket, and stayed out for hours beneath the most beautiful willow tree i’ve ever seen. i wore linen pants and a bikini top—your favorite one. i had a cardigan too, just in case, but the weather was perfect. i really needed to get out of the city. i know you know that, and i wanted to call you because… hmm sometimes i feel like my life is strung together by reminders. reminders of you and other people and things i love. reminders of our beginnings and all the sweet milestones along the way. i think my love could light up all the stars, more stars than i could ever see with my own eyes, enough stars to make a path between your hometown and my own. i’ll bring you back a jar of stardust. it’ll be empty… you’ll think it’s empty. sometimes magical things are invisible, or they just glow in the dark. anyway, it’s late, like 3 am, and i’m honestly glad you didn’t answer. as badly as i want to hear your voice, you should be asleep. i hope this voicemail makes you smile in the morning. i’ll send you some pictures too. see you on sunday. MWAH kisses *giggles*.”

♡a voicemail for jeno˚ ⋆。

“i’m going to my mom’s tomorrow, and i keep thinking about the drive. i rented a car… you know all of this already, but i guess it’s just present in my mind again. i’m staring at my luggage right now, and the entire thing feels wrong. i’m sorry if this sounds horrible, but i’m so used to you leaving. i’ve gotten really good at that. i’m good at being alone. i made sure i love my apartment and feel at home in it when you’re away because i’d fully unravel or find myself at your place more often than i already am if didn’t love it… stopping by to water all of those plants you don’t actually have. anyway, yeah… it just feels weird. i feel like you should be coming. i keep thinking about driving together: which one of us would pump the gas? who would run inside for snacks? what would we talk about in the car? would you drive halfway or drive all the way because you know i’d rather not if the option’s available to me? i know i’ll be fine. i’ve driven long ways on my own before, but it’ll be weird. i’ll be in a guest room. i don’t know what color the comforter is. i don’t know if i’ll like the sheets. my mom knows i’m weird and particular, but will she remember that when she’s fluffing up the pillows? what will i do when i can’t sleep? i love my mom. i haven’t seen her in months, but i close my eyes and daydream about being with you. i yearn for you in the stickiest of ways. it probably falls off of me too and hangs thickly in the air, gets stuck to the bottom of people’s shoes. i’d apologize if i knew, but i’m all caught up on you you you... i’m saying all of this, but i know this trip will be good for me. i know i’m not dependent on you, but last year was one of your busiest yet. and pride isn’t a question—i’ll spend my entire life being proud of you, but i can’t pretend there weren’t nights when the missing was so palpable i couldn’t sleep, so i read or baked bread or watched my toes wrinkle in the bath. it would be good for me to sleep at my mom’s, wake up to a new view, share breakfast, and simple conversation. i know i need the rest. i know everything will be fine.”

♡a voicemail for haechan˚ ⋆。

“if you told me the grass and the trees and the streets are all white, i would believe you. it’s like a blizzard out there. i’ve never seen so much white in my entire life. honestly, it’s kind of freaking me out, making me feel claustrophobic. i look up at the sky, back down again, and nothing changes, apart from the shapes and the saving grace of traffic lights—at least their colors are still clear. could we get by with just green, red and yellow for the rest of our lives?… some food for thought. anyway, it’s snowing *laughs*. i’m on my… third? tea after a few hot chocolates as well. no food so far today, just warm drinks. last time it snowed, you made kimchi jjigae and we ate in front of the window. do you remember that? we brought over my coffee table and the pot, bowls, and rice… i stopped listening to your story, all zeroed in on a snowflake. i didn’t look away until you kissed my neck. that’s quite a dangerous superpower: you have me at will with kisses, but i trust you with my weakest point... it wouldn’t be the same if i make kimchi jjigae and eat in front of the window without you. i should sit at the dining room table or maybe even the kitchen island—give myself a break from all the white. hopefully, i can still see you tomorrow. maybe you can kiss my neck again and tend to a few of my other weaker points… i love you.”

♡a voicemail for jaemin˚ ⋆。

“i want you to come over right now, and i know that you can’t. i also know that i might not see you for a couple of days, but i want to do nothing with you. i wish it didn’t feel silly… or embarrassing to want. i don’t know why wanting is so uncomfortable for me to share, especially because i’ve wanted loudly with you already, over and over again… but i guess i just wanted you to know. i painted my nails and went to the grocery store and chopped bell peppers because if they’re already prepped i know i’ll be more likely to eat them. i hung up some pictures in my room, and i kept thinking about you when i’d step back to make sure each one was straight. you would’ve done that part for me. i want to do everything together, and i don’t want you to feel bad because we can’t. that’s not why i’m leaving you this. i just know how happy it makes me feel when you express your want for me, in small ways, in spontaneous ways, in sexy ways… in uncomfortable ways, when you just want to be held, when you just need me to listen… it never ends with you. it never ends with me. we’re these entities that constantly move together and around each other, and i know i can get where i need to go without you, but it’s so much more fun when you’re here, and we’re in motion together. i’m making tea, and i think i’m going to drink it on the balcony. i’ll have to put socks on and a coat, but i want to hear the traffic noise and look down at people by themselves or in groups walking around and existing. i was existing for a long time. i felt really disconnected from living, but i knew i wanted to—to feel like i was living again. i just wasn’t quite sure how to get back to that place, but i was starting to figure it out when we met. on our first date, i felt like i struck gold. it was in your smile and your laughter, and this feeling that embraced me because all of a sudden i wasn’t nervous. i had only said your name out loud three times, but it felt so comfortable in my mouth. i remember leaving and whispering it to myself over and over again, and i couldn’t help but hope it would become a name i’d say for the rest of my life. so i’m going to drink my tea and enjoy this beautiful city we live in. i’m going to fold laundry and plan dinner. i’m going to think of you and get excited about the next night we fall asleep together.”

♡a voicemail for chenle˚ ⋆。

“i made it through the list of movies you left me. that sticky note is cute by the way. i like the border of little bears wearing scarves. where’d you get it? i almost threw it out on accident yesterday when i was cleaning my kitchen. now it’s living on my fridge. i taped it down on every side so my cleaning, autopilot fingers can’t attempt a second disposal… when you get this, i’d love some more movies. i’d ask for a horror film, but the idea of watching anything scary without you sounds worse than unclogging the shower drain or some other unpleasant household chore. oh! i went out this morning with chaewon, and she’s dating someone new. i started talking about hosting a dinner before i could really think it through. would you host another one with me? no pressure. chaewon told me not to even mention it to you, something about bad luck… she needs to wait a couple months before bringing them around all of our friends—has to pass 60 days of dating. there’s something romantic about a dinner party to me, though. maybe it’s just the wholesome quality time with my favorite people and knowing you’re only a look away. i don’t know if you remember, but you would always trail your fingertip up and down the back of my arm and kiss my cheek every time you got up, never wanting to interrupt the conversation but noticing the glasses in need of more wine. *groan* everything you do turns me on… ridiculous. do you even have a clue? no, i know you do. *sigh* g’night sunshine.”

♡a voicemail for jisung˚ ⋆。

“that fight was gross. i had to shower as soon as i got home, and the clothes i was wearing are already in the washing machine. are you ok? i know we tried to make it pretty again, but it felt ugly even at the end, and your eyes were so red. i hate seeing you cry. i love it actually… seeing your emotions, but never when it’s like that. i was so close to going to your favorite restaurant and picking us up something, but i know you need some time. but, if you listen to this, you can text me if you’re hungry, and i will go to your favorite restaurant. i can leave the food outside or just in the entryway, unless you’re crying again when i get there. then, i will take off my shoes and hug you, and i won’t stop until you at least hug me back. i’m so sorry. i don’t… most of the time i don’t feel insecure, but sometimes it comes out, and it takes this ugly shape that looks alien to me. i hope it looks alien to you too. i don’t want to be that way often enough for it to become familiar. tell me if it ever does. the idea alone makes me feel sick to my stomach. please text me at least. ok. dammit, i don’t want to hang up. i keep thinking you’ll pick up—”

[what-even-is-thiss]

this is coming from someone who has read all six Dune books. Listen. Dune never picks up. Ever. It keeps the exact same pacing up until the final chapter of Chapterhouse and never once stops its bullshit speeches. HOWEVER. and this is the important bit. If you manage to stick with it you get to bear witness to the most insane forms of sci-fi/fantasy bullshit imaginable. I can’t be any more specific because it truly covers every single part of that spectrum. A guy turns into a worm at some point it’s great

I think I get why people like it but at the same time I personally don’t think it’s worth it to slog through all of that just to see a guy turn into a worm. Some people like some utilitarian prose that’s 98% exposition but I’m not one of those people.

Also Dune is notorious for being complicated. Once you get used to it though it’s not any more complicated than any other fantasy or sci-fi world and the prose is fairly simple. The thing that makes it difficult to keep track of is that it’s boring. Frank’s prose style is just not it for me. It’s overly obvious what’s going on, there’s very little attempt to be artful or human with the language, the characters’ inner lives lack a true internal conflict or ambiguity. It holds the reader’s hand so much. I feel like I’m being encouraged to turn my brain off but it’s not even fun enough for me to do that.

I do like the encyclopedia entries though. I think it’s sort of fun that all the different fake books referenced are all written by the same person.

If you like Dune, good for you. It’s popular for a reason. There’s a group of people out there who like long-winded exposition and ham fisted metaphors about the nature of humanity and nobody in the universe having a sense of humor and I won’t blame you if you do like that sort of thing but I very much don’t.

Like I’ve said before on this blog, I read ancient and medieval literature for fun. I read history textbooks for fun. I write surrealism. I’m not gonna tell anybody they’re wrong for liking what they like. The stuff I like is also often considered to be quite dense and boring and hard to understand, but that won’t stop me from criticizing things and I very much do not like Dune. I don’t like its prose, I don’t like its portrayal of local tribal peoples, I don’t like how it views women, I don’t enjoy its lack of warmth, and I don’t personally enjoy watching children being tortured. And like any one of those things by itself wouldn’t make me put a book down but it’s got all of those problems and it’s also boring.

Some interesting worldbuilding I suppose. I just wish the book was better at making me care about that worldbuilding.

[aemondapologistfrfr]

I See You As You Are - Pt2

aemond x f!reader 

Series Masterlist

Summary: You continue to write letters to Aemond in hopes that it’ll help you both continue to open up. You both begin to spend more time together and start to have a deeper understanding of one another. 

Warnings: mention of wine besides that nothing

Authors Note: i’m so fkn soft for this story idek what to say im just like *clenches fist* like cute/love/adoration aggression

Word Count: 5.1k

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

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You sit in your chambers looking at the blank parchment before you and the ink slowly dripping from your quill. You don’t know how to talk to Aemond but you want to desperately. The past couple of days have felt as if you both are on the tipping point of an actual betrothal and you want for it so badly. You shake your head and begin to press the ink to the paper. 

~

Aemond, 

I wish to spend more time with you. I have no care for what we do. I’ll come watch you train. Anything. I would like to get to speak with you more often, if you’ll allow. 

I asked the maesters for your favorite book. I’m half way through the accounts of the conquest. I think I would quite like to see Vhagar in all her glory. 

Please write back. 

Or come to me. 

Or if I’m truly just desperate and out of line, disregard this. 

~

You roll the parchment to get the words out of your sight before you lose your nerve. After the wax dries you open your door and with a couple hushed words you send your guard to deliver it to Aemond. You click the door shut and run over to your bed to bury your head in the pillows trying to think of anything else than your letter. 

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

Aemond marks his page before gently closing the old book. He walks over to his door and squints his eye when he sees your guard. He offers him a roll saying it’s from you before disappearing back down the hall. Why would you send him a letter if you’re staying a couple halls away? He sighs, sitting back at his table and uncurling the parchment. 

His heart beats rapidly as he reads over your words. He reads it over another time before setting it on the table and staring at the wall. He picks it up once more to memorize each word. Desperate? For his company? You’ve read a history book to have a conversation with him? He shakes his head and rises from the chair. He takes your parchment and places it in the side table with the others and stalks out his door. Within a minute he’s knocking at your door and you’re opening it looking up at him as if you got caught. 

“You want to spend time with me?” his tone more accusatory, trying to confirm you truly wrote this parchment. “Talk with me?” you blink up at him already at a loss for words when him showing up was the best scenario for you. 

“I would.” you nod once. 

“Why are you reading my favorite book?” he questions and surprising to both of you, you keep his eye contact and don’t shrink. 

“What book a person favors is very telling.” he hums at your response. 

“And watching me train?” he watches a small smile form on your face. You wonder if he’s going to inquire about every single thing you said in the parchment. 

“Others tell me if you’re not in the library you’re training. I guess I’d like to see if you’re any good.” his eye widens at your teasing tone as you chew your cheek. 

“Did these others not tell you if I was any good?” he prompts. 

“I’d like to see for myself.” you start to lean against your doorframe. 

“Just as you would like to see Vhagar?” you nod quickly. 

“I think I would like to see her most.” he studies your face and only finds your relaxed features and soft smile. “Was there anything else you wanted to confirm that I wrote?” you tilt your head watching the smallest smile form on his lips. 

“In your first letter you said that you looked forward to meeting me.” you wait for him to continue but he looks down at you expectantly. 

“I did.” you nod. 

“But when you first saw me you looked away. We’ve barely shared a conversation.” he shakes his head. 

“That is hardly my fault alone.” you shift on your feet and move to lean on your door. “Might we go for a walk or sit in the gardens to talk? I tire of standing in the doorway.” he squints his eye at you and nods once. 

“Very well.” he watches you look over your skirts and smooth them before stepping out into the hall to close your door. “Would you like to hold onto my arm?” the smile that spreads across your face causes his chest to tighten. 

“Are you only going to ask me questions?” you link your arm with his and he reminds himself to breathe as he walks you down the hall. 

“Do my questions bother you?” he looks down at you. 

“Maybe I have questions of my own.” he hums at your response and guides you down the stairs. 

“Then ask.” he pushes the doors to the Keep open. 

“Can I see Vhagar?” he looks down at you with a raised brow. 

“We’ll see.” he purses his lips. “Maybe once you’re done with the book so you can truly appreciate her.” he nods his head. 

“I appreciate her now. She’s your dragon.” you bring your other hand up to pat his arm. “How did you come across her? How is it that you two bonded?” he studies your face. 

“It’s not that exciting of a story.” he turns his attention ahead as he leads you into the gardens. 

“Aemond.” he turns to you at the sound of his name. “Not that exciting of a story?” you scoff. “My Gods you claimed the oldest living dragon. She helped conquer the seven kingdoms.” you scrunch your brows up at him. 

“Would you like to sit?” he slows as you near a table. 

“I would.” you smile. “And to hear all about you and Vhagar.” he pulls out your chair for you and before taking the seat across from you. 

“I was ten and foolish.” he pauses as a servant approaches with pitchers of water and wine before disappearing. 

“Go on.” you prompt. 

“Her rider had recently fallen. I..” he takes a sip from his cup. “I will admit it was poor timing but I had wanted for a dragon so badly.” he clears his throat, shaking his head. “I had heard Vhagar and went after her. I had decided then I would have Vhagar or I would forfeit my life than go another day without a dragon. So I went up to her.” he nods his head. 

“All on your own?” you lean across the table with wide eyes. 

“I didn’t have anyone else to go with me. No matter,” he shakes his head. “I approached her and by some miracle she had accepted me.” he looks over your face spread with wonder. 

“You are so very brave. Only ten.” you shake your head looking over him. “Do you celebrate every year?” his eye snaps to yours. 

“No.” he’s quick to respond. 

“Why not?” you scrunch your brows. “That is a major accomplishment.” you notice his fingers start to tap against the table. 

“The way the night ended..” he clenches his jaw. “It’s nothing that causes for celebration. It’s just another day.” his hands slowly turn into fists and you tilt your head. 

“What happened?” you reach across the table for his hand and he watches as you grab onto him. 

“No.” he shakes his head. “We can talk about something else.” he swallows and meets your eyes once more. 

“I’ve been told you’re our best sword.” a small smile spreads across his face. “Is there any merit to that?” you hear the smallest chuckle come from him and the sound warms your chest. 

“Better than most.” he offers you a small nod. 

“Do you train often?” you let go of his hand and he almost reaches out to bring you back. 

“Daily.” he grabs his cup to occupy his hands. 

“I would like to see you train. I’ll come with tomorrow.” you smile and his heart starts to beat faster. 

“You might get bored.” you roll your eyes at him. 

“Then I’ll bring a book. Mm,” you hum smiling at him. “I’ll read about Vhagar while her new rider trains before me. You’re like living history.” you watch as his neck softly flushes and he leans back. 

“You’re that desperate to spend time with me?” your eyes widen at his words. 

“Was that a jest? Have I been hand blessed by the Gods today?” a smile splits across your face as you watch a small one form on his. “But yes, Aemond. Is it a crime that your betrothed would like to be with you?” you nibble your lip. 

“It’s before breakfast.” he offers you another out, still unbelieving how this conversation has gone. 

“I can wake whenever you need me to.” you nod. 

“Then I will see to it that they have a chair brought out for you.” his chest fills at the thought of you watching him. 

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

For the past week you have woken just before dawn to walk with Aemond in the gardens before watching him train. He enjoys how you curl into his side from the morning chill and how you rest your head on his arm as you both bask in the early morning silence. After your walk he leads you to the training yard and has a chair brought out for you. Once he confirms you have everything you could need he reluctantly leaves your side for his blade.

You watch him in silent awe at how smooth and determined each swipe of his blade is. The way his hair moves as he dodges puts you in a trance. Sometimes when you watch him train you can’t imagine how this deadly man in front of you is the same man who silently blushes when you ask him about his day. You open the history book on your lap and smile that you’re finally on the last two chapters. 

As you finish the accounts you look up and see Aemond raining his sword down upon his opponent. You close the book and lean back to watch him move around the man as a relentless storm. The tip of his blade waits at the man’s throat waiting for him to yield. The man toss’s his sword down and you see Aemond sneer at the man before he turns his attention to you. His face immediately softens as he leaves the man and walks over to you. 

“How is your book?” he comes to stand over you. 

“I’ve finished.” you smile up at him. “How was training? I think you did very well.” your eyes widen when his knuckles brush against your cheek. 

“Thank you.” you nod up at him with a blush. “Did you enjoy the book?” he hums and you nod again. “What would you like to do today?” he brushes your hair back before moving his hand away. 

“I wish to meet her. If I can. I’d like to know more about dragons but almost all of the books on them are in Valyrian.” he takes the book from your lap and offers you his arm. 

“I could read them for you.” your head snaps up to his. 

“Really?” you smile and he nods his head. 

“I’ll call for a carriage while we return this book.” you tilt your head. 

“Where are we going?” you scrunch your brows. 

“To see Vhagar.” he watches you smile before you lean against him once more. 

The silence that you two share when walking is now comfortable and relaxed. As you lean against him you smile thinking about him reading to you. When the two of you step into the library he hands the maester the book and requests another book be brought to his chambers while he’s out. Aemond begins to lead you back out to the main courtyard imagining your face when you finally get to see Vhagar. 

“I wish to hear you speak Valyrian.” he looks down at your sudden request. 

“Why?” he watches your cheeks flush. 

“Because I would like to.” you raise your chin and watch a smile form on his face. 

“Little do you know I would do anything you ask of me. Whatever you desire.” you’ve never so badly wanted to speak another language than you do right now. 

“You have such a beautiful voice.” you whisper. “What did you say?” he is thankful the carriage is here to conceal his flush that you always seem to bring forth. 

“My deepest secret.” you pout at his words as the carriage starts through the city. “And no I won’t be sharing it with you.” 

“Not even if I ask very nicely?” you push your bottom lip out. 

“Not even then.” he shakes his head with a small smile. 

The rest of the carriage ride consists of you asking questions about the city and trying to get him to tell you what he said but his mind is too sharp. He chuckles at your attempts and watches you with a relaxed smile. You lean forward in your seat when you reach the city gates as the carriage comes to a stop. Aemond helps you out and escorts you through the gates. You look around feeling as if you should be able to see Vhagar by now given how large she’s been described. 

“Come.” Aemond nods for you to follow him and you walk behind him with tentative steps. 

As you come to his side you feel the ground softly rumble as a pile of leaves begins to move. Your eyes widen as Vhagar’s head begins to lift and you have to crane your neck to take her in. You step closer to Aemond and grab onto his arm. He watches you look up at his dragon in awe and waits for you to speak. 

“She is absolutely spectacular. Better than I’ve ever imagined.” you shake your head still looking up at her. “And you were ten? Just a boy.” you turn your attention to him. “You were so brave. I believe it’s a day to celebrate, Aemond.” you nod. “I’m sure Vhagar would share my sentiment.” you turn back to the massive dragon with a grin. 

“I’m sure you both would torment me with celebrations every year if she could speak with you.” he chuckles at the thought. “Would you like to get closer?” you nod your head quickly. He leads you closer and as you walk near her stomach you lean closer into Aemond as you’re suddenly surrounded by a dragon. “You’re okay.” his soft words help your shoulders to relax. 

“Can you tell her I think she’s utterly amazing.” Aemond stops you both a couple feet away from her. 

“You’re stealing my betrotheds attention from me.” Vhagar lets out a small chuff before resting her head back on the earth. 

“I’m speechless, Aemond.” you shake your head, turning your head and trailing it along the length of Vhagar. “I just..” you turn to him. “You amaze me.” you bring your hand up to his chest. “I feel so very lucky to be betrothed to you.” you look up at him. 

“You don’t have to say those things.” he shakes his head. 

“I mean it. Truthfully.” you move your hand from his chest up to his cheek and his eye widens. “You are so smart and skilled. You are very hands-

“Stop.” he grabs your wrist and he curses himself as your face falls. 

“Why?” you whisper searching his face. 

“I’m not handsome. I don’t want you to lie to me.” he pulls your hand away. 

“I’m not lying to you.” you shake your head. “I think you are very handsome.” you watch his jaw clench. 

“That is because you haven’t seen me as I am.” he watches your brow furrow. 

“I see you as you are.” you shake your head. 

“But you don’t.” he steps back. “Not truly.” he watches confusion pass across your face. 

“Then show me. I will not leave your side.” you step closer. “Not because it’s my duty but because I quite like being at your side.” he doesn’t understand what he’s done to deserve you. He doesn’t deserve you or your soft words. “You asked why I couldn't look at you or talk to you when I first met you.” his eye snaps to yours. 

“I did.” he nods. 

“It’s because I was so intimidated by you. You’re like a Prince plucked from one of my books. But then you had looked so disappointed when you first saw me.” you chew your lip, shaking your head. “I didn’t feel good enough for you. I still don’t..” you shrug and he grabs your arm. “But I like that you’re intimidating because when we walk through the halls everyone leaves us alone. And to tell you one of my secrets.” you look up at his red face with a soft smile. “I like to lean against you so I can feel your muscles flexing.” he stares down at you at a loss for what to say. 

“You are more than I deserve.” his words hushed. 

“I feel the same way about you.” your soft tone matches his. 

“No.” he shakes his head. “You deserve so much better than me. I’m not..” he looks away from you and you frown seeing his expression. 

“I would like to hug you.” his head turns back to you quickly. 

“I will not have your pity.” he regrets his tone the instant the words come out. 

“It’s not pity I offer you but comfort, Aemond.” you step closer and he calculates your every move. 

“I do not require comfort.” his eye bores into yours. 

“Then might I just have a hug because I desire one.” you smile up at him softly watching his face flash with different emotions. He nods once and watches you take another small step. You wrap your arms around him and rest your head against his chest waiting for him to wrap his arms around you. “Do you wish for me to let go?” you keep your eyes shut as you hold him tighter. 

“Not until you are content.” he watches as you cling to him while he keeps his hands at his sides. 

“I would be even more content if you would hug me back.” you chew your lip hoping he doesn’t push you off. 

“Very well.” he slowly wraps his arms around you and stiffens when you hold him closer. “Do you feel,” he flares his nostrils unsure of what to say or do or even feel. “Content or comforted? Should I do something more?” he feels you start to lean back and he pulls you back against his chest not wanting you to see his flush.

“No, you’re hugging me very well, Aemond.” he hears you softly chuckle. “I feel very comforted.” you take a step closer and he moves one of his hands up to the back of your head. “Even more comforted now.” you inhale deeply. 

“As do I.” his words so soft you barely catch them. “Thank you.” he furrows his brows as he continues to hold you.

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

Aemond has barely had his eye open for ten minutes before there is a soft knock on his door. His guard places a small rolled parchment in his hand and he shuts the door quickly. Why had you sent him another parchment? He lights a candle and brings it over to his table before he unrolls your woods. 

~

Aemond,

I had hoped instead of our morning walk you could begin reading to me about the dragons. 

We could still go to the gardens. 

Or maybe you could finally show me around the libraries. I only know one section and I’d like to see your favorite sections. 

I look forward to seeing you soon.

~

He reads through your letter again and walks it over to his side table and places it in there with the others. He walks to his wardrobe and pulls his clothing out for the day. He tries not to think of the first time he showed you the library, if he could even call it that. He has no idea why you still want to spend so much time with him and he’s waiting for you to realize you find him no longer worth your time. 

He quickly dresses and grabs the book he had the maester pull for you both. He debates on leaving it not wanting to look too eager. His hand rests on it in silent question before scooping it up and walking with it to his door. He stops before the door and sets the book on the table and grabs the handle. He sighs and grabs the book again before leaving his chambers with the book and making his way to your chambers. When he turns into your hall you’re walking towards him with your guard behind you. 

“Where are you going?” he looks down at you and places the book behind him. 

“You’re later than normal. I was coming to make sure you weren’t ill.” you let your eyes look over him searching for anything out of place. 

“I’m well.” he nods. “I have a book for us.” he pulls the book out and you take it into your hands. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting.” you grab onto his arm and start to pull him down the hall. 

“No need to apologize.” you hum and he looks down at you holding onto him and the book tightly. 

“Where are you taking me this morning?” a small smile settles onto his face.

“I’ve decided I want you to show me the library.” you hum leading him down the stairs.

As the both of you make it to the bottom of the stairs he feels you step closer. You look up to him as he pulls you closer and whisper a small thanks. The halls are still mostly barren at this hour but he tells himself he wants to keep you close to keep the chill at bay. He pushes open the doors to the library and smiles as you pull him towards the stairs. 

“I wish to show you a section on this floor.” he hums softly and you turn to him. “These are mostly in Valyrian but this is my preferred place to be in here.” he leads you to an alcove behind the stairs. “You are of course welcome back here whenever you please.” he nods, watching you take a seat in his chair. 

“Is this where you would like to read today?” you pull the book onto your lap. 

“I would like to show you around first. If that’s alright. I..” he shakes his head. “I have thought a lot on the day we first met and I have many regrets.” he furrows his brows. 

“You’re not alone in that thought.” you reach for his hand. “But no matter. We’ve figured it out now.” he watches a smile form on your face as you start to rub your thumb against his hand. 

“May I show you the library?” you nod and move your hand to his arm as he begins to lead you around the different sections.You can’t believe how grand the libraries truly are, it houses more books than you have ever seen.

“It would take me at least ten lifetimes to read through all of this.” you shake your head, looking at all of the shelves surrounding the both of you. 

“We could share the burden and only make it five lifetimes.” he watches a flush rise up your neck. 

“Reading and reading with you is no burden to me.” you squeeze his arm. 

“Show me the section you’ve started in.” he nods at you and you lead him up the stairs. 

“I like to sit in this chair by the window.” you smile as you pull him over to the chair. “They bring me candles and tea. I stayed here for many of my first days here.” his hand slightly tugs on your arm and you turn to him. “Ye-

“I’m sorry for how I acted.” he looks down at you intensely. “I was foolish to ignore you. I regret it immensely.” he shakes his head at himself. 

“Regret it no longer.” you reach up and grab his face. “It is in the past. We are here now. Together.” you nod your head with a smile. 

He brings his hand to yours on his face and closes his eye. Your touch is so soft, he never imagined to find this type of gentleness in his life. He leans his head slightly into your warmth and you bring your other hand up to his other cheek and he knows he shouldn’t but he can’t bring himself to pull away from you. 

“I do not deserve you.” he sighs, bringing his hands to yours and pulling them away. 

“What does that mean?” you blink up at him. 

“I do not deserve you.” his words put a frown on your face. You step forwards and pull him into a fierce hug. He looks down at you when you squeeze him tighter. “I certainly don’t deserve this hug.” he mumbles, wrapping his arms around you.

“This hug is self indulgent.” you whisper into his jerkin. “I don’t like hearing you talk so lowly about yourself.” you look up at him.

“Then I will refrain from doing so in front of you.” he brushes your hair back. 

“That’s not what I meant. I wish for you to be open with me.” you nod your head. “I don't want you to feel undeserving of gentleness and love.” he looks down at you with such raw emotion and he pulls you back against him in a tight embrace before pulling back and offering you his arm once more.

“May I show you the rest of this floor?” you nod and grab onto his arm. He begins to lead you into another section. You steal glances at him as he shows you some of his favorite books and talks lowly before continuing your walk through the library. 

“We should start towards the training yard.” you hum looking out the window at the rising sun. “We will be late.” you turn and look up at him.

“I can go a morning without training to show you the library.” he nods. 

“I enjoy watching you train.” you chew your lip trying to hide your smile. 

“Is that so?” he smiles when he sees your cheeks flush. 

“It is.” you nod with a small smile.

“Have you decided if there is any merit to what the others have told you about me?” he raises his brows. 

“I think you are indeed our best sword. No question.” you nod again. “Maybe the best sword in the realm.” he rolls his eye at your words. “I mean it.” you purse your lips. 

“Is the best sword in the realm allowed to take the morning to spend with his betrothed?” you grin at his words. 

“I suppose you could miss one morning.” you chew on your lip. 

“What would you like to do?” he runs his fingers down your jaw and he hums as you tilt your head up. “Would you like me to start reading to you?” he chuckles watching you blink up at him. 

“Anything.” you whisper, enjoying Aemonds soft touch. 

“Would you like to sit in your section?” he watches your flush deepen. 

“I want to go to yours.” he nods and offers you his arm. You smile and grab onto his arm and he starts to lead you back down the stairs. 

“Pick any chair you want.” he scoots you into the open space and watches you claim his seat once more. “I’ll call for tea.” he nods and turns to find a servant. 

You rise and begin to light some of the candles and when he turns he finds you illuminated in a warm glow in his chair. He comes to sit in the chair next to yours and lifts the book off the table. He opens it and watches as a servant comes in and leaves tea for you both while you offer a soft thanks. Aemond looks at the book and then at you truly wondering if you want to hear these accounts. 

“We could read something else. Accounts can get exhausting.” he splays his hand across the page. 

“I know nothing of dragons and I’m very interested.” you look at him. “If you don’t wish to reread these books I would be grateful for any knowledge you’d wish to share.” he studies your face. “But I would still like it if we could read a book together. Any book you please.” you bring your hands together in your lap. 

“I’ll start with this one but you can change your mind whenever you want.” he turns to the first page. 

You pick your tea up and curl into the chair, listening to his soft words. You watch him unabashedly as his finger traces the page before he turns it to continue reading. When he finishes the first chapter he looks up at you and finds you already looking at him. He looks over your relaxed state with your knees curled under you and your cup of tea in your lap. 

“I think you are very beautiful.” he looks at you, unable to stop the words from leaving his lips. 

“Thank you.” you look away as your cheeks flush. 

“Do you want me to keep reading this book or shall I find us another?” you slowly bring your gaze back to him. 

“I enjoy this one. Truthfully.” you nod. “Do you want to keep reading this book?” you nibble your lip. 

“I do. I just don’t want to bore you.” he looks down at the book. 

“I’m very happy and content with what we’re doing.” you watch his eye snap up to you. “I enjoy my time with you no matter what we do.” you take a sip of your tea. 

He nods once and clears his throat before starting on the next chapter. You recline back and listen as he speaks to you of the great beings that command the skies and the riders atop them. 

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masterlist 🔌

ur honor i love him 

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