#i still haven’t gotten everything together for tomorrow

[babymorte]

can someone straighten my hair for me 🥺 i have brownies 😅🙏🏻

[atlabeth]

too sweet

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: a night out makes hotch realize a few too many things.

a/n: me??? writing for criminal minds again out of nowhere??? what is going on. and i do not have an answer i was just in a hotch mood bc he's fine asf and i finally have the confidence to write for him here we are lol. hope u enjoy this short lil thing

wc: 2.4k

warning(s): alcohol consumption, a sexual joke or two, written in one go so might be a mess! aaron is all in his head but this is basically all fluff

Hotch can’t focus. 

Mostly because he can’t stop glancing over at you. Normally it’s not a problem—he’d lost count of how many times he’d distracted himself from mounds of paperwork by meeting your eyes through his office window, often accompanied by a smile that made even his heart beat a little faster—and especially now, it shouldn’t be a problem. 

You and Derek have had some kind of bet going on during the past few nights out—you didn’t believe he was as charming and suave as he claimed, and Morgan was all too happy to prove you wrong.

You bet that he couldn’t get at least five numbers every night, and come last Thursday, Morgan took the win at the end of the evening with a smile on his face. As punishment, the first round of their next night out was on you. 

And that’s nice, sure. Hotch is always thankful that his team can still joke around and have fun with each other despite everything they have to deal with each day. He hopes they keep the light in their eyes as long as possible, especially the younger ones. He’s fine with being the stick in the mud, the one who never smiles, the iron willed chief that scares local uniforms.

Hotch is not so fine with the way he feels right now. 

It’s a busy night at the bar, which is understandable. Hotch is sure half the precinct is out alongside them, celebrating the BAU finally solving the case that had torn them to shreds over the past week. You, Reid, and Garcia put the threads together an hour into scouring through evidence, and the unsub was cuffed before noon. 

Certainly something to celebrate—there’s a reason the whole team agreed to go out tonight and leave tomorrow. Even Rossi decided to join when he learned you would be buying, but he’s already abandoned them in favor of catching up with some old friends. Hotch even thinks they might have another round in their future because of their solve, courtesy of the local chief. They had a long night ahead of them. 

But you haven’t gotten the drinks yet, and Hotch wonders how long it’ll take even after you do. Because some officer is trying to talk you up, and you’re smiling and laughing along and giving him every bit of your attention. 

Hotch recognized him the moment he set eyes upon him, even in plain clothes. He’s some joke of an officer from the station, and he’s been trying to get your number—or even just get your attention—throughout their whole visit. Always sidling up to you during debriefs, specifically giving you any information or evidence he finds—Hotch has overheard him asking for your number more than once. 

Hotch has been so focused on the case he’s not even sure if you’ve rejected him or not, and the mere thought is enough to annoy him. If he wasn’t equally as sure of your ability to defend yourself and afraid of overstepping with you, he would have stepped in. 

But it makes sense. The officer is young and handsome, you’re young and pretty—not to mention you have a way of lighting up any room you step into. Hotch spent the whole first month of your employment wondering why you would want to do a job like this. He’s spent the rest of it thankful that you did. 

You’re sharp as a whip, naturally, but you’ve also done wonders for the team atmosphere. It’s hard to feel down with a smile like yours beaming his way. The job weighs you down like it does everyone, but you still manage to lift everyone’s spirits on the jet ride back before they jump into the next case. It’s impressive. 

It’s also trouble. You’ve been part of the BAU for almost two years now, and Hotch has spent just as much time tearing his eyes away from you as he has working. It’s wrong, and it’s wholly inappropriate in terms of your working relationship—he’s your boss, for god’s sake. 

But sometimes, Hotch will be beating himself up over one thing or another on a case, and you’ll plant yourself in his vicinity and refuse to leave until you’ve helped him work through it. If you ever tire of the FBI, he thinks you have a second calling as an elementary school teacher. 

Sometimes the hotel they’re staying at will have truly shitty coffee, worse than they’re used to at the BAU, and you’ll already be in the lobby with a tray full of the team’s orders. Hotch never recalls telling you his order—you just figured it out, and you remembered it. 

Sometimes his gaze will drift your way, and he’ll find you already staring at him. You look away just as quickly as he does, and it makes him wonder. 

Hotch has made a living off of studying the behavior of others. More often than not, he finds himself profiling his co-workers just out of instinct. His job is to know what others are thinking. 

But god. When it comes to you, Hotch doesn’t think he’s ever felt more unsure in his life. Especially when you look at him the same way he wants to for weeks, then act nothing but proper another day; when you fall asleep against his shoulder on the jet one night and entertain some desk jockey another night. 

It makes him feel like a highschooler again, trying to figure out if Haley really liked him or if she was just playing around, and it’s more embarrassing than it should be. Especially when he’s still dealing with the lingering emotions from the divorce. 

“Hotch.” JJ’s voice is enough to break him out of his trance, and he blinks as he turns to her. At least someone paid him the mercy to dispel his thoughts, even if only for a temporary time. 

“What?” 

“Did you hear a single word I said?” she asks, a slight smile curving on her lips. 

“Of course,” he responds. “The chief’s over there talking with the commissioner. He’s the same guy who made your life difficult the last time we were in Milwaukee.” 

JJ’s eyebrows shoot up, and she nods. “I didn’t think you were listening.” 

“I think he just got lucky,” Morgan cuts in, his gaze darting over to you momentarily. “I think you were too focused on our drinks.” 

Reid frowns. “I don’t think he was focused on the drinks. He’s—” 

“Just making sure they’re still coming,” Hotch interrupts, and he straightens his tie. Today really has been a long one—usually, he’s better at covering these things up. “And I wasn’t lucky. I was listening.” 

“Trust me,” Morgan says with a laugh, “I’m watchin’ her until I’ve got a glass in my hand. She’s not getting out of this after the way she bragged this whole month.” 

“The stupidest thing to make a bet on,” Prentiss remarks, “especially with you.” 

“She said she just wanted to prove you wrong,” Reid contributes. “She thinks you’re too cocky.” 

Morgan grins. “It’s not cocky if you can back it up.” 

Hotch’s attention goes back to you, and you’ve finally gotten their drinks. You’re loading them onto a tray like you’re the bartender yourself, and his brows crease. Maybe he should have gone up with you. 

“Do you think she needs help?” he asks. How obvious is too obvious? Why does it feel like his brain only works at half power whenever it comes to you? 

“She’ll be fine,” Prentiss says. “And if she needs it, that guy talking her up can help.” 

“Jason Rodriguez,” Reid remarks. “He hung around her the whole time we were trying to pinpoint a location, and he wasn’t any help, which makes sense because he's practically desk-bound at the precinct. I’m surprised she got any work done.” 

JJ chuckles. “I’m surprised he hasn’t given up yet. He’s been following her around all week, like some lost puppy.” 

Morgan shrugs. “I dunno. She seems pretty into him.” 

“I don’t think ex-frat boys are her type,” Prentiss says wryly. Hotch doesn’t think so either, but he doesn’t say anything. Contributing to this kind of conversation is certainly too obvious.  

“I doubt we’ll be back here for a while. She might as well.” Morgan smiled. “She probably needs a win after such an embarrassing loss.” 

Thankfully, before Hotch has to keep pretending not to care about this topic, you walk over carrying a tray of cocktails—and you’re alone. The subject of their previous conversation seems lost in the crowd, and he feels a dangerous amount of relief. 

“Are you all talking about me?” you drawl. 

“You know we are, sweetheart. Thought you were never gonna get here.” Morgan sits up, smiling at you. “What’d my win get us?” 

“Long Island Iced Teas,” you muse as you set the tray down. “Enjoy it, because I’m gonna be working some overtime to make up for all these.” 

Morgan grins as he takes his drink. “You should’ve never doubted my skills.” 

“I’m surprised you didn’t need any help,” Prentiss says. “You’ve done this before, huh?” 

“Bartended my way through college.” You slide into the booth next to Hotch, just a bit too close for a bit too long, and he hopes that no one can see his chest still for a moment. It’s impressive that he still hasn’t figured out how to lessen the effect you have on him. “I’ve probably got better hands than you, Morgan.” 

“Do we need to make another bet?” he asks. “Because I’d love to clean out your wallet.” 

“Maybe wait another month before you prey on any more poor, defenseless agents,” you croon, and Morgan laughs. 

He pivots the conversation away from you when you pick up your drink and take a sip, and you look at Hotch. Whenever your gaze is on him, you make him feel like he’s the only person in the room. He’s sure you never look at anyone else that way, but Hotch wonders how much of that is his mind trying to justify his imagination. 

“I’m surprised you agreed with this,” you say, mercifully interrupting his thoughts. “I thought you’d want us to go back tonight.” 

“You all earned a night out after the work you did,” Hotch says. He thinks about taking a drink, but he decides against it, at least for now. He can barely trust his sober mind. 

“You’ve earned it too,” you say. “We wouldn’t be anywhere without you, Hotch. You keep us all together.” 

He shakes his head. “I don’t think I ever would’ve connected the dots like you and Reid can with Garcia. I hate unsubs with secret codes.” 

“I’ve always liked puzzles,” you muse. “There’s nothin’ like it when it all finally clicks.” 

Hotch hums, and for a moment, he’s silent. Your gaze remains fully on him, and that might be why he has trouble thinking. It’s too easy to get lost in your eyes. 

“What did that guy say?” Hotch finally manages to ask, because he honestly can’t help it. Morgan’s points actually worried him a bit, and he wonders what that says about him. Ex-frat boy certainly isn’t your type, but someone forgettable for a one night stand isn’t the most absurd thing in the world. 

Your brows knit together as you drink some more. “What guy?”

“The officer you were talking with,” he says. “He seemed to like you.” 

He’d been flirting with you since the moment you stepped into the precinct, actually, desperate for your attention, but Hotch didn’t really want to say that. He’s sure you noticed either way, if the rest of the team did. 

“Oh. Him.” You shrug. “He’s nice, I guess. Definitely a looker. But he’s got nothing beneath that hair.” 

“Morgan’s surprised you didn’t bring him back,” Hotch says. He wonders if he’s pushing too much, and again, he feels like a highschooler testing the waters. Do you know what you do to him? What you reduce him to? 

You shrug as you take a sip. “If he knows what’s good for him, he knows he doesn’t have a chance. My attention’s on someone else.” 

Prentiss calls your name and you get drawn back into the middle of the team’s conversation, and thankfully, Hotch has a chance to digest your words—and the stunner of a smile you flash at him before you get pulled into their talk. 

His decision to not drink seems even wiser, now. Hotch has to loosen his tie, and he ignores Reid watching him. It’s futile trying to hide anything from Spencer Reid—the kid already knows everything. 

Again, it's dangerous how much satisfaction he gets from it—from knowing you never really paid that officer a second thought. You didn’t smile at him the way you smile at Hotch. You don’t smile at anyone the way you smile at Hotch. He thought he was imagining it at first, or that he was just a bit too stuck up, but it was the honest truth. You paid him special attention, and he couldn’t blame the warmth in his chest from the thought on any alcohol. 

He tunes back into the conversation just to hear Morgan demand you pay for his next drink. 

“You’re lucky I’m feeling generous,” you say. 

He puts a hand to his chest. “Generous? You’re just paying what you owe me.” 

You laugh and shake your head. “Pick your poison, pretty boy.” 

“How do you feel about tequila?” 

You make a noise of disgust and shake your head. “As long as I don’t have to drink it.” 

“You’re just paying, sweetheart.” Morgan’s eyes dart to Hotch, and he nods as he grins. “One for me and our fearless leader.” 

Hotch shakes his head. “Someone has to get us back to the hotel.” 

“That’s what cabs are for!” Prentiss exclaims. “Don’t be such a stick in the mud, Hotchner. You deserve to let a little loose.” 

“It takes most people an hour to process a drink,” Reid contributes, “so you’ll be fine before we leave if you want to drive.” 

“Come on, Hotch,” you say, and you nudge his shoulder. “You might as well—I’m paying.” 

“...Fine,” he says, and the whole team cheers. Even Reid smiles. 

“Y’know, you can smile tonight, Hotch,” you say with one of your own before you down the rest of your drink and stand up.

And one actually tugs at his lips. It feels a lot hotter in this bar with your eyes sparkling and you beaming right at him, and he fights the need to shed his jacket. Your grin somehow grows. 

“That’s what I came out to see,” you remark as you pick your wallet back up from the table. “I expect another when I get back, Hotch. There’s a lot to celebrate tonight.” 

Yeah, he thinks as he watches you go. There just might be. 

[ceilidho]

prompt: it's been a month since you managed to run away from them. your luck had to run out eventually. tags: noncon, darkfic, ghoap x reader, previous kidnapping implied, stalking and hunting down reader. i am begging you to read the tags before reading this, thanks. 4.4k

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You pay for the motel room in cash. Always cash. Never a paper trail if you can help it. Nothing that could ever tip anyone off if you didn’t want them to be tipped off.

You haven’t been on the run for long. Maybe a month, tops—but after the first week, the days and nights have begun to blend together like watercolours. You don’t do much during the day apart from sit in your room and wait for the night to come. Sometimes you venture out if you’re low on food or if the itch under your skin grows severe enough that you know you need to buy a fresh set of clothes and dump the ones you came into town with. 

Freshly dyed and cut hair. Jackets two sizes too big to make you seem larger than you are from the back. You’ll never be able to change the face god gave you, but you make an effort to obscure it when you can—surgical masks on public transit, heavy sunglasses even indoors, a deep mauve lipstick (purchased, again, in cash at the local pharmacy) to make you seem, from a distance, like someone else. Anyone else.

Sometimes remembering that it’s been a whole month since you escaped, since you got out, leaves you winded. You have to hold onto the wall in your pay-by-the-night, ratty, hole-in-the-wall motel room to keep from toppling over. A month without spotting one of them in pursuit of you feels next to impossible. Almost impossible. You still don’t let yourself think that you’ve fully given them the slip, that you’ve gotten the better of them. There is no getting the better of them. There is no outmanoeuvring the two men that—you’ve learned through painful trial and error—do not let up when there is still the trace of a scent.

And everything leaves a scent. Even you.

You sleep in the bathtub instead of the bed for fear of bedlice; these days, your neck has an ever-present kink that needs to be worked out. It’s bound to get worse though. It’s not like you can stop in this town now and call it home, not when you can feel them hot on your heels. 

You change in gas station bathrooms when you run. You’re learning a kind of awareness of cameras and eyes that you never would’ve developed before. You do not smile at cashiers. Your face becomes blank, unrecognisable. The goal is always that you fade into obscurity the second you step out of the shop, so that no one could ever identify you to the two terrifying men haunting your shadow. Even if they wanted to. 

Paranoid isn’t the half of it. When you hear a car pull up outside your motel room door, your body drops a whole degree and sweats like a night terror has found you in the waking world. You only relax when you hear a door four rooms down slam shut. Then you shake so hard that you swear you can hear your bones rattle.

This isn’t a life. It’s life like the promise of a tomorrow is the only thing getting you through today. 

You get on buses with no idea where you’ll be getting off. Pattern disrupter. In the months that you lived with them, you learned something. If your movements are scattered, they become unpredictable—harder to track down. You force them to stay behind while you skitter off, forcing them to review video footage, question people, even sift through garbage and recycling bins for any sign that you’d been there. 

It doesn’t make you any less nervous. You know they’re like hunting dogs. You’d love to believe that you’ve tried their patience enough for them to abandon the chase, but thinking like that gets you caught. Complacency will get you caught faster than anything.

The money folded and sealed in an envelope in your bag is dwindling though. Even for as frugal as you’ve been, food costs money—clothes cost money. Boxes of hair dye and bus tickets cost money. And you can’t stay anywhere long enough to hold down a job to recuperate what you’ve lost.

It feels hopeless. You trudge back to your motel room after grabbing a bite to eat at the pub down the road and feel like maybe this is purgatory. Maybe you died a long time ago, long before you got away from them, and this long path you’ve been burning across the country is just the long descent into the underworld. You let out a sigh, squeezing your eyes shut for a second by the door before unlocking it to go inside for the night.

You trip over something. It catches you so off guard that you almost break your nose on the carpeted floor, arms almost not swinging out in time to catch you. 

“Whoops. Sorry, kitty—took a lil’ tumble there, huh?” a familiar burr says from somewhere behind you by the door. “Gotta watch where you step.” He chuckles a bit under his breath, pulling back the leg he’d stuck out to trip you. 

Your body goes ice cold on the floor. The door clicks shut behind you; the deadbolt sliding into place is deafening in the silence. The thick knot in your belly expands until you think you might throw up. The only nonsensical thing you can think is that you hope the motel manager won’t be upset that you’ve ruined the carpet. 

You hear the muffled sound of knees hitting the floor and then a hand tangles in your hair, wrenching your head back. “Oh Jesus, look at the state of her, Lt.”

“Looks like she’s seen a ghost.”

The second voice is rough, like logs rolling over water, clattering into each other. It comes from the other end of the room, way into the darkness. They didn’t bother to turn the lights on, perhaps in an effort to make sure your guard was down. Fear grips the inside of your chest. Behind you, Johnny holds your head up high enough that you’re forced to stare at the patch of darkness from which Ghost materialises when he flicks on the bedside lamp. 

On the surface, he sounds almost amused, but as long as it’s been, you’re still attuned to the undercurrent of anger in his voice. His patience has been tried over weeks of chasing after you. He almost looks like he’s put on mass since you last saw him over a month ago, but that could just be the perspective of looking up at him from the floor. His face is still covered in the same half skull mask as always, exposing the shaved blond hair on his head. His eyes are narrowed though, terrifyingly mad.

“Poor baby,” Johnny murmurs, nuzzling into the back of your head. He props himself over you, not leaning his whole weight down onto your prone body, but trying to get as close as possible to you while still forcing you to stare up at Ghost. “Did we give ye a wee fright? Is that why ye ran off? I missed ye so, so bad, baby.”

“She ran off because she’s been spoiled,” Ghost snaps. He sits on the edge of the bed and it creaks under his weight when he shifts a little closer to the edge, leaning closer to where you’re lying on the floor. 

“I ken, I ken, Lt,” Johnny sighs, plastering sloppy, wet kisses into the side of your neck, fitting his mouth briefly into the crook of it, into the meat of your shoulder. “Cannae help myself, she’s just so—ah, kitty, am really sorry but you’ve really pissed Simon off.”

“No—no, please—” you gasp, breath splintered into short hitches. “H-how’d you—how’d you e-even find—”

Johnny shakes you by the hair, a bit rougher than usual. Anger finally leaking out like a drip from a loose spigot. You yip at the pain. “Of course we were gonna find you—Lt, ye hearing this? She thought she could outsmart us.”

“Pet’s don’t know any better,” Ghost says dismissively. It makes you feel queasy to hear him say that like you’re not even in the room. “Needs a lesson in not making us run halfway across the country after her. Get her on the bed, pup.”

“No, no, get OFF—” you try to yell, then gag when Johnny shoves two fingers into your mouth, pushing them almost to the back of your throat. 

When the urge to choke abates, you close your teeth over his fingers, flirting with the idea of just biting all the way down and taking them off. Only the fact that you’ve never done something like that before keeps you from instinctually biting through. Johnny laughs breathlessly when he feels your teeth flirt over his fingers though.

“Bite down,” Johnny dares you, voice quivering with smugness and rage. “Bite down ‘n see what happens to ye. Have nae gotten my cock wet in a fuckin’ month because you’ve been gone and Simon—”

“Quit talking to the pet like she understands,” Ghost snaps, finally standing up, towering over the two of you. You can’t help staring at his mud covered boots still rooted in front of your face. “On the bed. Now.”

You howl when Johnny takes his fingers out of your mouth and wrenches you to your feet, struggling when he coos and frogmarches you to the bed. No matter how hard you struggle though, you can’t break the way he has your arms twisted behind your back. It’s a short walk too, only a few steps, and then Johnny shoves you roughly onto the bed, clambering over you again. His hand forces your face into the mattress, not paying any mind to the way you grunt because your nose bends uncomfortably against it. 

“Always fuckin’ whining,” Johnny growls into your ear, fully pissed off now. His anger is electric, rippling down the length of you. “On and on and on—’n I’ve been so fuckin’ good to ye. Have nae even been a little mean. Being a fuckin’ brat to me and leavin’ me and makin’ us hunt ye down like dogs.” 

You can hear that he’s working himself up to a fever pitch, growing angrier and angrier. It terrifies you to think that you’re trapped under him, nowhere to go. Somehow, it’s a mercy when the bed dips again under Ghost’s weight and he pulls Johnny back by the shoulder, giving his cheek a little tap when Johnny growls and tries to bend back down. 

“You have all the time in the world with her, pup,” Ghost says, giving Johnny a rougher shove. “Get undressed. Can’t fuck her in your civvies.” 

“Yeah…yeah, yer right,” Johnny mumbles to himself, getting off you. 

Your head automatically twists over your shoulder, eyes following him. It’s easy to see in the spare seconds you get before you try to make a break for it again that he looks haggard, beard grown out a bit more than usual. Ghost usually makes him keep it short and tight, but apparently weeks on the road have tempered that military expectation a bit. 

His eyes are wild, electric blue, hardly blinking for how hard he stares at you. You tell yourself that you haven’t, on some small level, missed his pretty face. His arms bulge around the tight shirt that he easily strips off, pulling it off one handed from the back of his neck.

You hear him kick off his boots somewhere in the distance, but when you try to scramble off the bed, Ghost tips you over onto your bed and presses you down with a firm hand on your shoulder. He’s a bit less dressed now—hoodie pulled off and boots and jeans piled on the floor somewhere. Mask off. Familiar scars cut across his face—old burn marks and white spidery lines of fresh skin. Rougher than Johnny, not a pretty man; maybe without the layers of scarring he’d be a proper masculine kind of handsome, but with them, he only seems dangerous. Someone to avoid. 

He doesn’t say anything when he stares down at you. He says enough like that. He looks over his shoulder, away from you. “Johnny?”

“Lt?” Johnny’s at attention now, stripped naked and eager. When you glance down, his cock is already flushed and hard, excitement making him almost vibrate.

“Help me get her naked and then you’ll get her mouth, alright?”

You’re already struggling before the words come out of his mouth, frantically trying to push Ghost off you and opening your mouth to scream—the piercing shrill of it bleats out of you for half a second—before a big hand wraps around your neck and Ghost turns back to you. It shuts you up in a heartbeat. Not once in the months you were with them has Ghost looked half as terrifying; you’ve had a belt taken to your ass until the blood pooling under the skin almost burned, you’ve been manhandled and roughly positioned and been bent into shapes that your body could only just accommodate, but you’ve never, until now, actually worried for your safety somehow. 

“You scream—” he starts, moving his hand up just a little to grab you by the jaw and twist your head to make you stare at the bedside table, where a glock lays flat under the glow of the lamp, “—and I shoot anyone that comes through that fuckin’ door. We clear?”

You nod once. Sweat pouring out of every other gland, but the saliva running dry in your mouth. You lick your lips and swallow, hummingbird heart going wild in your chest. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Johnny mumbles, coming up behind Ghost to wrap his arms around him as best he can, planting a row of kisses into his shaved head. “Missed it so bad, I need ta—need ta—”

“Her clothes, Johnny. Take ‘em off.”

You only put up a little fight when Ghost works on unzipping and pulling down your jeans. It feels hopeless to try. Johnny almost tears your shirt in two to get it off, only being a bit gentler when you yelp. He can’t help groping at your chest when the shirt is pulled off you and tossed somewhere else in the room, big hands fitting over your breasts and plucking your nipples, twisting them like you’re just a toy for Johnny to play with. He slithers down onto his belly for a second to pop a nipple into his mouth, switching between kissing and sucking at the beaded nub like he can’t tell what he missed more.

Your panties get ripped clean in two. The sob comes out of your chest unbidden, tears finally spilling out. Ghost’s patience seems finally at its end. His eyes are black even in the light, all pupil. Your legs try to close instinctively, but he slots himself between them so you can only clamp your legs around his waist, stuck staring at the way his hand reaches for his boxers only long enough to pull the elastic under his balls. His cock is so heavy with blood that it droops, the tip dewy. 

Your nipples gleam with spit when Johnny finally takes his mouth off them, sitting back on his haunches and spreading his legs. It’s all happening so fast—there isn’t a right place to look. Either the monstrous cock between your legs that already has you feeling twangs of phantom pain knowing that Ghost isn’t going to even bother stretching you on his fingers before fucking you, or the pretty cock that Johnny is already rubbing against your lips, painting with his precome. You flinch when you feel Ghost spit on your sex; he doesn’t try to rub it in.

“Simon” he pants, fingers tangling in your hair again to keep your head still when you try to turn away. “Simon, please, can I—I need ta come so bad. Please, please.”

You almost say something and then Ghost pushes his cock in to the hilt in one brutal plunge. Your mouth opens on a ragged gasp and Johnny keens, fingers clenching so hard in your hair that he almost tears it out by the roots. The tip of his cock stays flush against your lips, even split open on your gasp.

“Please, sir, please,” he begs, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. Aching and desperate. Holding himself back only because he needs permission to put his cock anywhere in you, just like he did all those weeks ago back in their house out in the countryside. The one you thought you thought you’d escaped. 

Ghost chuckles, groaning at the feel of your tight cunt squeezing his cock. “Go ahead, boy. Give your cock a squeeze.”

That’s all it takes. Johnny pushes past your lips roughly, no finesse or gentleness at all. Maybe the capacity for it is gone after going without you for so long. You choke when the head of his cock hits the back of your throat, tears making your vision blur. Johnny preens and gushes over you, unable to stop babbling about how hot and tight your throat is, how much he missed it. 

“Oh shit, sir, she’s—” Johnny gasps, sinking into your mouth again and again, sweaty hand still clutching your hair. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.”

You feel close to the point of breaking, tight after a month on the lam, too tight for someone Ghost’s size to shove their cock into you without prep. You tell yourself that at least he bothered to spit on you, but lube would help a lot more. Too bad for you. His hands fit over your waist and hold tight, making sure you know that there’s nowhere for you to go. The first few thrusts are rough but slow enough to keep you from tearing—a small mercy, but probably not for your sake.

“I get—I get her pussy after, right, sir?” Johnny asks desperately.

“Dunno, Johnny,” Ghost muses, licking his lip. His thrusts get more brutish, faster; your teeth would be clacking together if Johnny’s cock wasn’t stuck halfway down your throat. “Gonna be a bit sloppy. Might not be tight enough for you after this.”

“S’okay, sir,” he whines, glancing back down at you. Fingers petting your cheek and tracing over your throat, trying to feel himself from the outside. “Jus’ need…oh fuck, please, it’s so good—oh Christ, missed it. I’ll take anythin’, sir, please.”

“Christ, alright, puppy. You can have a turn after. Been a good boy, huh?” 

You can only stare when Ghost lifts a hand from your waist to reel Johnny in by his mohawk, tugging him in for a wet kiss, still thrusting into your pussy all the while. Just a toy between them for their cocks while Ghost licks into Johnny’s mouth and mutters sweet nothings to him. Johnny moans into the kiss, sucking Ghost’s tongue when it’s offered to him and looking dazed, come-drunk. All fucked out and flushed, hips unconsciously pumping forward, just absently rutting. 

“Got our girl back, right?” Ghost murmurs, letting go of Johnny’s hair to smooth down his head and neck, making him preen. “Such a smart puppy.”

“Yeah, I’m good, sir.” He sounds out of his mind, slurring his words. Praise gets him like nothing else; it’s not easily given by Ghost, not handed out for nothing. “Did good…’m a good boy…”

The corners of your lips feel like they might crack. It’s hard to be careful with your teeth when you’re so overwhelmed, but luckily Johnny doesn’t mind it a bit rough. He hiccups when your teeth scrape over his cock a bit. He lips at Ghost’s mouth, dragging his tongue over the scar that bisects the corner of Ghost’s lips. When Ghost finally pulls away from Johnny’s mouth, a thin string of saliva pulls and then bends with the distance, finally snapping off and leaking onto your chest. 

Your flinch and squeak draws Ghost’s attention back down to you. 

You try to think of yourself looking down on the three of you instead of in it, but it’s hard. For as much as it seems like you’re just a toy between them, Ghost makes an effort to get you off, slipping a hand down to jiggle his thumb over your clit, rubbing it just the way you like. It’s sick how well he knows your body by now, how it takes almost nothing to push you to the edge of coming, core tight with the heat of it. 

“Gonna come?” Ghost taunts, scooping a hand under your ass to tilt your hips up, hitting a spot inside you that has you seeing stars, cunt flexing over his cock. You garble around Johnny’s cock as if to say something, but all it does is make Johnny groan and slump over you, holding himself upright with a hand on the mattress. His abs flex every time he fucks into your mouth. “Pussy this close to coming—you must’ve starved it. Good thing you didn’t let someone fuck you while we were looking. Woulda torn them apart.”

You can see the real threat in his eyes at that. There’s no way you would’ve, but the real danger of it crackles in the room. You feel like you’ll slip and touch the third rail if you so much as twitch under his glare. His jealousy at the thought makes him look like an angry god, chest heaving with every breath as he fucks you. 

“My baby wouldnae—” Johnny gasps, sinking his cock all the way into your throat and groaning at the squeeze, “—no, Si, she’s—ah, fuck me, ‘m gonna—fuck, fuck—Si, she wouldnae do that to us. No fuckin’ way.”

“She’d have a lot of making up to do then, huh?”

“She’s a good girl, sir, ‘promise. Oh, jus’ look at her,” Johnny gushes, sweat dripping down onto your face from how he’s curled over you. “So, so pretty. Maybe I dinnae take her…take her on enough walks.”

“Yeah…” You feel your skin crawl when Ghost stares down at you, not convinced. “Of course, pup.”

You know there’s no way he believes that. When they drag you home, you don’t think you’ll see the sunlight for weeks, never mind have Johnny take you on ‘walks’. Ghost’s smothering presence will take on a whole new meaning; he’ll snuff out the sun before he lets you walk in it alone ever again. 

Someone in the room adjacent to yours slams their fist into the wall a couple of times, jolting you out of your thoughts. The headboard must really be knocking against the wall. Ghost and Johnny ignore it though, Johnny so close to coming that he can hardly even form a sentence, solely focused on spearing between your lips. You can feel Ghost reaching his end too, fucking you with a single-minded intensity. Breath snorting out of his nose like a bull. The hair on his chest is matted with sweat, curls whorling around his nipples. 

You almost choke when Johnny comes down your throat without warning, hilting his cock until his balls brush your chin and his hand in your hair tightens painfully. He groans, drawn out and long, pained. It splashes against the back of your throat, almost familiar. You’ve done this before. You can do this without falling down a cliff and never climbing back up. 

He pulls his cock out before he’s finished, striping your face with come, twitching when he has to hold his cock from how sensitive it is. You instinctively close your eyes, grateful when you feel his come tag your eyelid. 

You hope it’s almost over, but Ghost hasn’t come yet and you know it’s going to get worse before it gets better. When Johnny pulls away to collapse onto his back on the bed, trying to catch his breath and dragging his hand over his stomach, Ghost hunches over you. He drags his tongue over your cheek, wet and nasty, and your brain almost switches off when you realise that he’s licking Johnny’s come off your cheek. 

“There we go,” he snarls, feeling you flex around him, the little tell-tale spasm of your approaching orgasm. “Atta girl—gonna come on my cock? A little wet sorry for running away?”

You try to say something, but your throat is raw, voice too hoarse for words. Even your lips feel puffy, swollen. Talking hurts. It doesn’t matter though, Ghost doesn’t wait for your response. He pumps into you like a machine, pulling his cock all the way out before pushing back in again. Your stomach cramps with the worry that he might miss and try pushing into the other hole.

You wish there was a way around it, but you can’t avoid it slamming into you, a white hot wave cresting over you. You come so hard it hurts, milking Ghost’s cock and pushing him over the edge too; he pants harsh, animalistic sounds into your throat, cutting himself off by sinking his teeth into the meat of your shoulder instead, making you howl. There’s no condom to keep his come from pumping into you; just a big, heavy man smelling of gunpowder and salt hovering over you, elbow propped on the mattress beside your head and making you go a bit crazy at the scent of him everywhere around you. 

He peels himself off of you after what feels like an hour, soft cock pulling out of you and making you clench down on nothing. You didn’t remember how much being empty can hurt. You try to roll away from him and onto your side, maybe squeeze yourself into a fetal position, but Ghost collapses down beside you and plants a hand on the centre of your chest, holding you in place. Never any respite. 

You croak a tired little, “Ow.” All it does is make Ghost snort softly.

Your body feels like one livid bruise in the aftermath, limbs loose at your sides. You couldn’t move even if you tried, even if you thought you could make a break for it. It would hardly be worth it. You let your eyes slide shut when Ghost runs a hand up and down your chest, a little comforting gesture. 

“Simon,” Johnny whines from beside you. Your brows scrunch, annoyed at his voice breaking the silence. “Please.”

You hear Ghost sigh. “Now?”

“Cannae wait—please.”

You wait to hear Johnny and Ghost get up. Maybe there’s something they have to do—maybe they drove to the motel and there’s still something in the car. 

A hand grabs you by the hip.

“Turn over, pet,” Ghost instructs, flipping you onto your stomach without waiting for you to acquiesce. “Promised Johnny a turn with your pussy before we leave.”

Your eyes go wide.

[hannie-dul-set]

heartbeat conquest — day 1.

SYNOPSIS. you’re sucked into a reverse harem otome game, and there’s only one goal— say the right things to conquer as many pretty boys as you can. PAIRINGS. tomorrow x together x reader. TAGS. social media! au, modern fantasy, reverse harem (of fucking course), romance, humor, a whole bunch of weird dynamics maybe HUAHAHAHAHAHHAAH. inspired by the manhwa with the same title, “heartbeat conquest.”

it has been thirty minutes since you started staring at your phone.

the walls that surround you have transformed from a pink to a light beige. the bubblegum floors have turned into carpet. and the bed you’ve sunk yourself into feels just as foreign as it is yours. what is this? what is going on? you have a rough idea on just what you’ve gotten yourself into, but it’s still difficult to wrap your head around.

sanctuary. angel. knight. savior. lover. considering the premise, these must be the love interests you have to conquer. yet you have yet to open any of their messages because the “system” didn’t even bother to provide you with any context on who these strangers are! even otome games give a brief profile of your targets. how are you supposed to know which of these nameless and faceless bastards is your type?

“ugh,” you grunt, jumping off of bed and feeling the plush carpet against your skin— a warm and sickly feeling. the window shows the midnight moon shining above what appears to be a college campus, buildings lining up before and after this one, a wide field directly below you and connected pavements from one concrete wall to another. your guess that this is a dormitory is proven to be correct. but you don’t understand how everything seems to have the same bubblegum pink filter clouding over your vision.

ding!

you pause for a moment.

the system has made it very clear. you know what you’re supposed to be doing.

first impressions: what the fuck, all these love interests are in some what or another— off. weird. is this some screwed up otome game? do you have to deal with a bunch of creeps to get yourself out of this? now, that’s not your only problem. five out of five of these guys want to meet with you, and all on the same date nonetheless.

from what you have gathered, you have to win all of them over. but you’re left with no choice but to pick one of them this time.

now— who would you like to meet first?

NOTE. oooh choices HAHHAHAHA. now let me just give you guys a hint: some of these boys are gonna benefit if you don’t pick them. i wanted to give my spin on the usual reverse harem tropes, and fuck with them a little BWAHAHAHAHHA. the reason why angel and knight haven’t been unlocked yet is well........you guys failed to get a big enough reaction for them (whether it be negative or positive).

as usual, please answer the form linked above to progress. i will close them once i feel like i’ve gotten enough responses!

DAY 0 | DAY 1 | DAY 2

heartbeat conquest. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Cozened Indigo - Part Three

Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x f!reader Warnings: Mentions of murder, dark themes, smut, dubious consent, allusions to no consent. Dead dove; do not eat. Dear god, please mind the tags. Word count: ~9.6k

Summary: The article goes live and a verdict is delivered. Series masterlist.

Author's note: I have put my journalism degree to use here, to ensure as much accuracy as possible. However, as Westeros is a fictional place, I have warped certain laws and regulations regarding court reporting for the purpose of the story. Please suspend your disbelief for the sake of a fictional tale. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

“Rhaenyra has gotten wind of the fact that Aemond has spoken to the press, so now she’s doing an interview too – with White Knight Magazine.”

Larys’ words play on a loop in her mind as she sits heavily in her office chair, dread forming a pit in her stomach as anxiety flutters unbridled within her chest. Her interviews with Aegon and Helaena are set for tomorrow, she still has to do her background research on them both, alongside transcribing all of her interviews with Aemond. With just two weeks to do it all, and with Rhaenyra’s pending interview looming over it, it feels too huge an obstacle to overcome. She is being set up for failure, made all the more humiliating by the fact that the feature from the opposing side is to be featured in the publication that effectively put an end to her career. It has to be deliberate, there is no way it's a coincidence.

It’s not until she sees the droplet of moisture splatter upon her desk that she realises she’s crying. Burying her face in her hands, she draws in a shuddering breath, attempting to pull herself together.

Not here. Not in the office,

“Everything okay?”

Startled, her head snaps up to look at Royce, his features pinching into a look of concern as she sniffles and hurriedly wipes at her eyes.

“Doesn’t everyone cry at their desk occasionally?” She jokes, attempting to play it off with a watery laugh.

“Let’s step into my office,” he responds softly, not giving her a chance to reply as he turns and walks away.

She sighs, tipping her head back and uttering a quiet “fuck” before following him.

“Want to tell me what’s really going on?” Royce says, perching on the edge of his desk and folding his arms, as she closes the door behind her.

The weariness that has weighed upon her since her discovery of the upcoming Targaryen trial settles over her with a heavy finality, as she meets his gaze with exhausted resignation. 

“I can’t do this, Royce. Put me back on the Flea Bottom curfew piece.”

“What? Why?!” He narrows his eyes, leaning forward slightly.

“Rhaenyra - Aemond’s half sister - is doing an interview of her own.”

“So?”

“With White Knight Magazine.”

“Ah.”

“The deadline is too tight, I’ll never be finished in time.” She sags against the office door, wrapping her arms around herself.

“What’s the hold up?”

Exasperatedly, she drags a hand through her hair. “I have all of my interviews with Aemond to transcribe still, and that’s before I even begin writing the piece. On top of that, I now have to interview Aegon and Helaena, and I–”

“Woah”, Royce interrupts, “the brother and sister have agreed to be interviewed by you?”

“Yes, tomorrow, and I haven’t even started my background research on them yet. What am I going to do?!”

Royce reaches behind him, lifting the box of Kleenex from his desk. He gently tosses it towards her and she catches it, smiling gratefully as she plucks one out to dab at her eyes and nose.

“You’re going to go home, and do your background research, and prepare for your interviews tomorrow. You can leave your transcription with me. I’ll do it for you.”

“You?” She looks at him wide eyed with incredulity, balling the tissue up in her fist. “You didn’t even want me working on this story in the first place, why would you want to help me?”

“It’s not entirely selfless”, he says with a shrug, “this feature will be huge for The Gazette, it’s in my best interests to make sure you get it done.”

“Makes sense,” she admits with a nod. “Thank you.”

“Send me your audio files,” he instructs, pushing himself back into a standing position, “and then go home and get to work. Your runny mascara is bad for office morale.”

Face given a thorough clean with a wet wipe, a few hours later she sits curled up on her sofa, her gaze fixed intently on her laptop. Royce offering to do her transcription for her has shifted some of the burden from her, and she feels lighter as she clicks through each of the articles she finds regarding Helaena and Aegon Targaryen.

Helaena seems like an anomaly within the family, a blinding white beacon of joy within an ocean of misery. She is heavily involved in environmental conservation, an activist for animal rights and has received several awards for her charitable work. If she has anything at all positive to say about her younger brother, then it would be a huge help to the article.

Aegon, on the other hand, is not quite so impressive. There is little to no evidence that she can find which alludes to his morality or personality, though if the photographs splashed across trashy tabloids of him drunkenly falling out of nightclubs, and parading down the street with an ever changing array of women on his arm are anything to go by, then it’s not good. There’s a small article regarding his brief stint in a rehab facility, which offers a glimmer of hope, but only the interview itself will tell for certain.

As her taxi drives slowly up the expansive and seemingly never ending driveway of the Targaryen-Hightower mansion the following morning, she is momentarily stunned by the grandiosity of it all. She had known the family was rich, but this seems obscene. The property is located on a hill in the centre of King’s Landing, which overlooks the city, serving as an unnecessary physical reminder of how far above everyone else the family is, or at least considers themselves to be.

Her driver had been buzzed through the main gate via an intercom on the drive up to the house, so she is surprised to find no one is waiting for her once she steps out of the car. Standing in front of the large, forest green front door she lifts the ring pull of the bronze dragon head knocker and raps it against the wood three times.

She shuffles from foot to foot, anxiously waiting. A full minute passes and she is about to knock again, when the door swings open. A mop of disheveled, wavy, silver blonde hair and tired blue eyes greet her as she looks into the face of Aegon Targaryen.

As her gaze travels downwards she sees he is dressed in only a pair of low riding grey jogging bottoms and a dark green robe, which isn’t tied. She falters, blinking rapidly and clearing her throat, as she looks back at his face. The lazy smirk painted across his features is unnerving.

“Mr. Targaryen?”

“Aegon,” he corrects her. “You the reporter?”

She nods, shifting her bag to the opposite shoulder. “Right…Aegon. Am I too early? Larys said 11am.”

He gives a slight shrug. “I must have gotten carried away with my beauty sleep. Guess you’d better come in.”

Aegon leaves the door open, padding on bare feet through the foyer. She follows him, eyes wide as she takes in the opulence of the high ceilings and expensive art that adorns the walls.

He leads her through to the kitchen, opening the double doors of a large silver refrigerator.

“Get you a beer?” He asks, pulling a bottle out before biting the cap off with his teeth.

She winces. “Not for me, thanks, bit early.”

He takes a drink, nodding as he mulls over her response. “I’d offer you a bloody mary, but we’re out of tomato juice.”

She is about to laugh, until she sees that he’s sincere, so bites back the urge. “Honestly, I’m fine. Got a water bottle in my bag.”

“Fair enough,” he utters, leaning forward on his elbows on the kitchen island as he sets the bottle down. “So, how does this work?”

“I just want to ask a few questions about your brother, Aemond. Have you got a place you’d like to go to do that?”

“Why not right here?”

She raises her eyebrows slightly, taken aback by the informality, before nodding. He watches her intently as she rummages in her bag, taking out her dictaphone and placing it on the granite surface that separates them. “Will we not be interrupted?”

“Nah, mum’s gone with grandad to visit Aemond. That’s why Larys set up the interview for today. They’re pissed off that he’s spoken to the press, so better for you to be here when they aren’t.”

She purses her lips, pushing down her unease, before nodding towards the dictaphone. “I need to record this. That okay?”

His gaze rests upon the recording device for a moment, before he takes another long swig of his beer. “Yeah,” he finally says.

She pulls out a wooden bar stool, sitting upon it before she presses record. “We’ll start with your childhood. What was Aemond like growing up?”

“A twat,” Aegon shoots back quickly, causing the corners of her mouth to turn up into the faintest of smiles.

“Can you elaborate?”

Aegon sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “He just…took everything really seriously. He never had a sense of humour about anything.”

“So, you didn’t like him?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“What are you saying?”

“He’s my brother, I love him, we’re just very different.”

“Different how?”

“Aemond is ambitious, he’s hard working. I’m not, I just want…”

She raises an eyebrow as he trails off. “You just want..?”

“To be happy,” he mutters.

“And are you?”

He scoffs. “I thought this interview was about my brother?”

“Do you think your brother was ever happy growing up?”

“He had his eye carved out of his skull when he was ten, of course he wasn’t!”

“By your nephew, Lucerys?”

Aegon’s brow furrows with anger, his tone dark and clipped. “Little shit got what was coming to him.”

Her breath catches in her throat, her blood turning icy in her veins as she stares at him, wide eyed. Slowly, with a shaky hand she reaches forward to press the stop button on the dictaphone. 

Aegon drains the remnants of his beer, heavily setting the bottle back down and lowering his gaze as he grips the edge of the kitchen island.

When she eventually finds her voice, it comes out as a strained whisper. “Do you think Aemond killed him on purpose?”

His mouth quirks, eyes obscured slightly by the hair that has fallen into his face as he looks slowly back up at her. The air feels thick, and she realises she’s holding her breath as she waits for him to respond.

“Is this the lady that’s here to interview us?” A quiet voice comes from behind her.

She jumps, turning on her stool to look at the woman that hovers in the kitchen entryway, dressed in a white vest top and powder blue harem pants. Her hair falls in soft, loose, silver blonde waves almost to her waist, her eyes hold a faraway, dreamy quality. This must be Helaena.

Aegon nods. “Yeah, she was just interviewing me.”

“Oh…” Helaena deflates slightly, clasping her hands in front of. “I’ve interrupted.”

Her brother shakes his head, pushing away from the counter and walking from the kitchen. “No. No, you didn’t. We’d just finished, all yours.”

She watches him retreat, before turning her focus to his sister.

Well, that’s the end of that then.

“Hi,” Helaena says with a soft smile, extending her hand as she steps forward. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

She takes her hand, feeling the Targaryan woman noticeably flinch at the contact, giving it the briefest of shakes before letting go. “You must be Helaena.”

“I am,” she says nodding, clutching her hands in front of her once more. “Sorry about Aegon, he just has a hangover…he always has a hangover.”

Her gaze turns sad and she looks away. For a few seconds it seems as if she’s not even there anymore, and she wonders where she’s gone, before Helaena returns to the present and smiles once more.

“Shall we go up to my room?”

She trails after her up the stairs, looking at the antiquities that decorate the vast amount of space that makes up the house, until they reach Helaena’s bedroom. Stepping inside she is taken aback by the brightness of it, it feels like she has entered another universe separate from the darkened surrounds of the rest of the mansion.

Floral wallpaper adorns the walls, with a variation of frames containing pin mounted insects and butterflies. She turns to a shelving unit, picking up an expensive looking crystal beetle to examine it as it sparkles in the sunlight.

“This is beautiful,” she muses more to herself than Helaena.

“You like it?” She asks, causing her to look up, suddenly embarrassed at having handled a stranger’s belongings without asking.

“Sorry,” she replies, flustered, placing the beetle back on its shelf. “Never seen anything like it.”

“You can have it if you want,” Helaena quips with an easy shrug.

She blinks rapidly, unsure if she has heard her correctly. “Pardon?”

“If you like it, you should have it,” she tells her, sitting on the edge of her bed.

It’s a sweet gesture that comes from a place of childlike innocence, but is also indicative of how shockingly out of touch wealth makes people. Of course she doesn’t mind if she gives away something so expensive, not when the resource is there to easily replace it.

“That’s very kind, but I couldn’t,” she says, taking out her recorder. “I don’t want to intrude upon too much of your day. Shall we get started?”

Helaena is easier to interview than Aegon had been. She speaks kindly of Aemond, and as she listens she finds herself feeling more and more sad, not just for Aemond but for the entire family. Helaena had always wanted a sisterly relationship with Rhaenyra, but with a seventeen year age gap and Rhaenyra’s apparent resentment at no longer being an only child, it never happened. Where Aegon had often made fun of her, Aemond had been good to Helaena when they were growing up, patient and understanding of her tendency to daydream and fascination with insects.

“I don’t want my brother to go to prison,” she says sadly, “I just want us to be a family.”

“Do you think that that’s what Aemond wants too?”

“I don’t know what my brother wants anymore. I don’t think he knows himself.”

As her taxi drives her back towards home, dread settles in her stomach like a heavy stone. She can’t help but wonder what Aegon would have said if Helaena hadn’t interrupted them. There is no denying that the Targaryens are a family that are steeped in tragedy, but amidst it all something unseen and sinister lurks, looming with the sense that by the time she stumbles upon it, she’ll be too far in to back out.

“For you,” Royce says the following morning, depositing a USB drive onto her desk.

“Are those the transcriptions?” She asks, looking up at him with wide eyed wonder. “That was quick work.”

“It’s a tight deadline”, he replies with a smirk. “How did your interviews go yesterday?”

Little shit got what was coming to him.

She draws in a breath, unsure of what guides her actions. “I only interviewed Helaena in the end. Aegon was too hungover.”

“A shame, but one interview is better than nothing. Send me the audio and I’ll transcribe that for you too, so you can crack on with the writing.”

“You’re a lifesaver, thank you.”

“I know,” Royce says with a wink, before walking away.

She picks up her dictaphone, hovering over the audio file for Aegon’s interview.

Little shit got what was coming to him.

There is no way she can allow Royce to hear that, though she cannot put her finger on why. Before she has a chance to dwell on it further, she erases the recording and gets to work uploading Helaena’s to her computer, then emails it to Royce.

Over the following week, she works hard on the feature, painting a picture of the enigma that is Aemond Targaryen in his own words, as well as his sister’s. It’s a heart wrenching piece, a tale of a misfit little boy, maimed at the age of ten and left to live with the consequences of it. However, instead of collapsing into despair or falling back on a comfortable lifestyle, funded by his family’s fortune, he had studied hard and was an accomplished solicitor within his grandfather’s law firm. He had overcome his disability to train in athletic pursuits such as mixed martial arts and long distance running, and is knowledgeable in the fields of both history and philosophy. There is no denying that Aemond Targaryen is impressive, even without having to navigate the difficulties of losing an eye.

Once the article has been thoroughly vetted by Royce, it goes to print, landing on newsstands the exact same day as Rhaenyra’s interview in White Knight Magazine. Aemond cuts an imposing figure in the photograph used in the double page spread, a sinister presence in direct opposition with the content of the article. And still there is something that niggles at the back of her mind, a stone she has left unturned. Was she right to omit Aegon’s interview? She supposes it is of little consequence, it’s too late now. 

White Knight is a larger publication, so occupies a more prominent shelf space than the Duskendale Gazette. However, upon news spreading that a feature with the elusive Targaryen second son is contained within its pages, it sells out quickly, with an urgent extra print run needing to be made to supply the demand for more copies, despite additional copies having been printed in the first place, in anticipation of the article’s popularity. But they hadn’t anticipated just how popular the feature would be.

As she stands in the newsagents, looking at both publications on the shelf, she is struck by the thought that this presents itself as forcing the public to choose a side, despite neither article making mention of the murder or impending trial.

She reads Rhaenyra’s feature, and cannot help but feel sympathy for her. A young woman whose world was rocked when her best friend had married her father after her mother had died, and then made to feel displaced by the children that that relationship had produced. Already having to deal with the animosity that divides the family in the wake of her father’s death, she now must cope with the grief of losing her son.

Whose side should she choose? She wishes more than anything that Aegon had answered her question, it would doubtless make for an easier decision.

Her phone buzzing in her pocket pulls her out of her reverie and she huffs an irritated sigh as she sees Larys’ name flashing on her screen. She had assumed her dealings with him would be over once the article went to print. It appears she was wrong.

��Nice work,” he drawls into the receiver once she’s answered. “You’ve painted quite the picture.”

“Has he seen it?”

“Aemond? Yes, I ensured he received a copy this morning. He’s pleased with how it’s turned out. That’s why I’m calling, actually.”

“The article’s published, what more is there to say?”

Larys clicks his tongue, his tone dripping with condescension. “Now, now, we did you a favour in letting you run this feature. You’ll have every publication in Westeros beating down your door to commission you after today. Don’t you think a little gratitude is in order?”

“Gratitude?!” She snipes back. “Isn't it enough that I’ve painted a rosy picture of a…”

Murderer.

She can’t bring herself to say the word, there is still a seed of doubt in her mind, yet Larys knows what she means regardless.

“Alleged,” he corrects her. “All Aemond wants to do is say thank you, surely a phone call couldn’t hurt?”

“Do not give him my phone number,” she seethes.

“Very well. But you’ll be at the trial?”

“It’s a closed courtroom.”

“It is. Selected press only, to avoid it becoming a media circus, but I can get you on the list.”

“I’m not supposed to be covering the trial.”

“And you won’t be, don’t worry, I can still get you in.”

“You’ve come this far. May as well see it through to the end.”

Aemond’s words echo in her mind, and she relents with a sigh. It’s not as if she isn’t curious. “Alright, fine.”

“Excellent. See you then.”

The line goes dead.

The trial is to last three days. A day for the prosecution to deliver their testimonies, a day for the defense to present their case, and a day for the jury to deliberate and then pass their verdict, with subsequent sentencing from the judge. Rhaenyra is pushing for a murder sentence, while the other side of the family argue it was an accident.

The tightly wound knots of dread that have made their home inside of her over the last month are prominent as ever as she arrives at the courthouse on the first day. She is ushered in after giving her name, though not towards the sparsely populated press seats as she had assumed she would be.

Bile rises acridly in her throat, her eyes widening in horror as she realises she is being led towards the public gallery to sit with Aemond’s side of the family. Despite wanting to remain neutral, she is being given a side, without the option to choose, though deep down she knows she had subconsciously made her choice the moment she decided to interview Aemond. The idea makes her feel nauseated.

The entire family is tense as she takes a seat next to them. Aegon side eyes her uncomfortably, while Helaena, though she forces a smile, is fidgety and withdrawn. It’s clear she would rather be anywhere but here. Otto bristles at the sight of her, rising slightly from his seat, before Alicent places a hand on his forearm, urging him back down again.

“Aemond wants her here,” she whispers, patting her father’s hand as he sighs and turns his gaze ahead.

Despite defending her presence, the Hightower matriarch doesn’t acknowledge her, keeping her eyes fixed upon her nails, which look red raw around the edges.

An eerie silence falls over the courtroom as Aemond is led out towards the dock, accompanied by a prison officer. He is stony raised as he is seated, keeping his attention fixed on a far point towards the back of the room, though she is certain that for just a second she sees his eye flicker to her, the briefest of smirks tugging at the corners of his mouth. Her stomach somersaults and she forces herself to look away. When she looks back, he’s staring towards the back of the courtroom once more.

“All rise for the honourable Judge Wylde,” a member of staff calls out, and she stands with everyone else, watching as the judge sweeps into the courtroom, taking a seat at the bench, before they are all instructed to sit once more.

Rhaenyra’s solicitor, Erryk Cargyll, delivers the opening statement for the prosecution’s case, claiming that his client has grounds to believe that the death of her son was deliberate and premeditated.

The hours feel as though they drag by as statements are delivered by Rhaenyra, her sons, Jacaerys and Joffrey, and her husband, Laenor. Though all are clearly emotional, and still reeling from the death of Lucerys, none of them actually saw what happened. The evidence is all purely circumstantial, with nothing concrete. Rhaenyra appears visibly distressed, and her heart aches for her knowing that Larys is likely to tear her apart during his questioning.

She isn’t wrong. Larys’ questions hinge upon the fact that her dislike for her half siblings is what guides her judgements and he repeatedly asks if she saw what happened. She appears flustered, stumbling over her words, growing more emotional as the questioning grows more pointed.

Looking over at Alicent, she sees a harrowed look in her eyes, her expression solemn as she stares wide eyed at her former friend from the public gallery, gripping her father’s hand tightly. It is awful to watch, and she is desperate to leave.

Unsurprisingly, Aemond is calm and collected as he is questioned by both Larys and Erryk, keeping his answers clipped and simple. Saying that he had been eager to get away from the family gathering, and had not seen Lucerys as he’d struck him in his haste to drive off. He never falters, even under the heated cross examination from Erryk, asking if he’d been motivated by the injury sustained as a child in his killing of Lucerys. Aemond replies with a simple “no, it was an accident”,

By the time the court is adjourned for the day, she is exhausted both mentally and emotionally. She feels for Rhaenyra, it is clear to see how much she loves her son, and she just wants justice for him. Yet her case is flimsy, and she knows that Aemond’s defense will deal the killing blow tomorrow. On the other hand, Aemond could be telling the truth, in which case, horrible as it is, is it fair that he should be hauled over the coals for an accident? He’ll serve a prison sentence either way.

Despite her tiredness, sleep does not come easy for her that night, knowing she will have to do this all again tomorrow.

The following day, as she’d expected, the defence tears apart Rhaenyra’s case, especially when they call Dr. Orwyle to the witness stand. He is apparently the doctor that had treated Aemond when he initially lost his eye, and had helped him with pain management and rehabilitation in the years that followed.

The doctor’s statement deduces that Aemond’s lack of depth perception means it is not advisable for him to drive at night, due to reduced visibility, so it is entirely plausible he would not have seen Lucerys at all as he’d driven away.

Larys’ closing statement underscores it all; “so, you see your honour, my client was in such emotional distress that evening that he felt he had no choice but to leave. It was an honest accident. Is Aemond Targaryen careless? Yes. But a killer? No.”

“Fucking liar!” Rhaenyra cries out, jumping to her feet, her voice fraught with emotion.

“Order!” Judge Wylde shouts across the courtroom.

She bows her head, drawing in a withering sigh. The trial is over, it’s just the verdict and sentencing to go now.

When she looks back up, a shiver runs the length of her spine; Aemond is staring directly at her. He’s smiling.

She allows her curiosity to get the better of her, once the court is adjourned for the day, catching up to Aegon as he walks from the courtroom. He whips around as she gently grabs his arm, his brows knitting together in confusion as he looks at her.

“I’ll never hear the end of it from Mum, if she sees me talking to you,” he mutters, attempting to pull away.

“I know,” she says, stepping in front of him to block his path, “but I’ll be quick. I just need to know, when I asked you the other day if you thought Aemond had killed Luceys on purpose, what would you have said if Helaena hadn’t interrupted us?”

Aegon sighs, rolling his eyes as he steps around her. “I think you already knew the answer to that when you omitted my interview. It doesn’t matter really though, does it?” He says to her, as he begins walking away. “He’s going to prison either way.”

His words bring her little comfort, and she stands, watching with unease, as he descends the steps at the front of the building. In a sense, he is right, it doesn’t matter now, and her article is already published. She hates herself for it.

She feels sick with nerves the following day, as the final closing statements are read out, and she’s unsure why. Aemond is nothing to her, and yet she feels that she has played a part in this all the same, will somehow be responsible for whatever verdict is reached, whether it’s the right one or not.

 The faces of Rhaenyra, Laenor and Jacaerys are sullen and angry on one side of the courtroom, while Alicent and Helaena look fraught with worry. Otto and Aegon sit stony faced and impassive.

It takes the jury just one hour to reach their verdict.

The clerk of the court calls out, “Will the foreman of the jury please stand? Have you reached a verdict on which you are all agreed?”

When the foreman answers in the affirmative, the clerk continues. “On the first count in the indictment, murder in the first degree, do you find the accused guilty or not guilty?”

“Not guilty.”

Rhaenyra collapses into Laenor’s arms with a sob, as Jacaerys jumps to his feet, shouting obscenities. It’s not until Judge Wylde threatens to have him removed that order is restored in the court, and the verdict can continue.

She looks to Aemond, sitting in the dock, his gaze lowered, the silver strands of his hair obscuring his face, so she’s unable to see his reaction, but she can tell from the movement of his wrists that he’s fiddling with his fingers. Is he nervous? He has been so stoic throughout this entire process, to see him falter is unnerving. She finds herself unable to look away as the final verdict is read out.

“On the second count in the indictment, manslaughter, do you find the accused guilty or not guilty?”

“Guilty.”

Aemond looks to his mother as the verdict is read out, her brown eyes doleful and filled with tears as she gazes back at him. Rhaenyra storms from the courtroom, the heavy wooden double doors flinging wide open as she departs, quickly followed by Laenor and Jacaerys.

“He’s going to prison,” Helaena whispers sadly.

“That was always going to happen,” Aegon retorts with a heavy sigh.

When the judge passes a sentence of ten years, Alicent buries her face in her hands and sobs.

“He’ll be out in five, if he behaves himself”, Otto says quietly, in an attempt to reassure her.

“But our family is torn apart forever,” she whispers tearfully.

She has seen all she needs to see, and cannot stomach watching or hearing anymore. Rising from her seat, she hurries from the courtroom and outside to the top of the steps, sucking in steadying breaths to help calm the rising panic within her.

Her obligation to Aemond is complete, so she doesn’t understand why this has affected her the way it has. Likely the result of being trapped in such a toxic setting for the last three days, which makes her all the more determined to get away.

Pulling out her phone, she is about to open the taxi app, when Larys calls to her from the entryway of the courthouse. “He’d like to see you.”

“What?!” She asks incredulously, turning to look at him with a scowl. “What for?!”

“To say thank you, and goodbye. You rejected the offer of a phone call, perhaps you can give Aemond a few moments of your time to say his piece in person?”

“I’ve just given three days of my life watching a grieving mother be made a mockery of for his benefit, don’t you think he’s had enough from me already?”

“I can get you into the holding room for a few minutes, before his family go to see him, ahead of him being transferred back to Dragonstone. Just a few minutes, and then all of this is behind you. He has asked to see you specifically.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose exasperatedly. “You aren’t going to take no for an answer, are you?”

Aemond would look handsome in the all black, expensively tailored suit he’d worn for court, were it not for the handcuffs that bind his wrists together, reminding her that he’s a convicted criminal.

“Speak then,” she says, as she sits down opposite him.

“I just wanted to say thank you, truly, for the article you wrote. You really are a talented writer, and I’m sure great things are in store for you.”

She purses her lips, humming in acknowledgement, uncomfortable with the compliment. “That’s quite alright.”

“I really enjoyed our chats together. I’m going to miss them.”

She frowns, not at the words themselves, but the fact that they are sincere. He means what he’s saying. “It was for a professional purpose,” she insists.

He shakes his head, leaning forward against the table. “I know you enjoyed them too.”

She shifts uncomfortably in her chair. “Well, they’re over now.”

“They don’t have to be,” he says with a shrug, “ten years is a long time, plenty of time for us to chat.”

She leans back, away from him, the familiar weight of dread settling over her once more. “Aemond, I don’t think that’s a–”

He lurches forward across the table, grabbing her forearm, almost painfully so, his tone desperate and pleading. “Say you’ll come to visit me!”

She is unsure of whether it’s because there’s a part of her that secretly wants to, because she can’t bear to see the look of anguish in his eye any longer, or if she just wants him to let go of her so she can leave, but she finds herself whispering back in a trembling voice “okay, I will”.

It is not a promise she keeps.

Larys had been right, her article about Aemond is the spark that reignites her career. In the weeks following the publication of the feature, her email inbox had been inundated with offers of work from editors across a variety of different media outlets.

She had spent a long time chained to a desk at “The Wall” of the Duskendale Gazette, she did not much fancy swapping one static position for another. Eager to spread her wings, she had handed in her notice, despite Royce’s offer of a promotion. She craved freedom, and with her pick of what publications to write for, she made a successful career of freelancing. Over the next few years she had articles published in broadsheet newspapers and glossy, high end magazines alike, covering current events and interviewing high profile public figures. She made a comfortable living, until eventually she accepted the job of commissioning editor at Gold Cloak, a fashion and lifestyle magazine with a huge circulation and an even larger salary. She is almost able to put to the back of her mind the person who put her there in the first place. Almost.

In the months following Aemond’s sentencing, she had received several calls from an unknown number. On the one occasion she had picked up, it had begun with the automated message “an inmate from Dragonstone Prison is trying to reach you…” She had hung up immediately, her heart lurching, remembering she had said she would visit him, but knowing full well she couldn't. Not because of the morality of the situation, but because of how strong her desire to go actually was. That was a part of her she was eager to suppress. As the calls had continued, she had eventually opted to change her number, and after that they had stopped.

Aemond Targaryen is no more than a meager itch at the back of her mind now. It has been five years since she last spoke to him.

The sunshine warms her skin through the glass of the café window as she sits at the rounded wooden table, leaning back in her chair as her eyes scan over the article she has just had emailed to her. Deadline day is approaching for Gold Cloak, as they gear up to go to print with their next issue, and the last few stragglers are finally submitting their copy. It’s an odd sensation to be appraising the words of others, instead of writing her own, but she’s worked hard to get to this point, and it’s satisfying to be in a position where she is considered senior enough to dictate the contents of a major publication, not just contribute towards it.

Making the most of a work from home day, she has elected to visit her local coffee shop, watching the world pass by on a busy side street of King’s Landing, while the spicy aroma of her chai latte comforts her as she works.

She frowns when the sunlight she had been enjoying morphs into muted darkness. Her breath hitches, and she lets out a frightened gasp as she looks up to see Aemond standing over her.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he says softly, “I saw you as I was passing and I wanted to say hello.”

His words do little to comfort her, and her eyes desperately scan the coffee shop. It’s relatively busy, with lots of people, witnesses. Good.

He smirks. “I’m not here to hurt you, don’t worry.”

She swallows thickly, shifting to sit fully upright in her seat. “What are you–”

“I only served half my sentence, I was let out on good behaviour. I’m not an escapee, if that’s what’s worrying you.”

“Right, right…” she mutters, attempting to get her thoughts in order as her heart feels like it’s set upon hammering its way out of her chest.

“Mind if I sit?” Aemond says, gesturing to the empty seat opposite hers. “Might make you feel better if I’m not looming over you.”

What can she say? She looks around the café again, deciding she doesn’t want to cause a scene. “Yeah, sure.”

He pulls out the chair, sitting opposite her. Aemond is not quite as intimidating as she remembers him, though she supposes the only time she’d ever seen him before was in prison sweats or dressed for court. Today, as the sun dapples across his pale skin, he looks softer somehow, not nearly as scary as she’d once thought. His long silver blonde hair is pulled up into a low bun, and he’s dressed casually in a black leather jacket, a dark green henley and black slacks tucked into black Doc Martens.

She closes her laptop, perching her elbows on the edge of the table and resting her chin on her hands as she looks at him.

“I’m sorry I never–”

“So what are you–”

They both pause, smiling awkwardly as they begin to talk over each other, before Aemond gestures towards her. “You first.”

She nods, leaning back again, drumming her fingers softly on the table. “I never did come to visit you. I’m sorry.”

He shrugs out of his jacket, letting it drape across the back of the chair. “It was wrong of me to ask you, to be honest,” he admits, “I’d just never opened up to anyone like that before, and though I knew the consequences of the accident, none of it really felt like it was happening until it did. I panicked.”

The accident.

She finds it odd that he refers to in such a way, but he seems so different now, less tense, and she feels herself beginning to relax. Perhaps it really was an accident?

Wrapping her hands around her cup in a bid to ground herself, she nods. “So how long have you been out?”

“A few weeks,” he tells her, his hands coming to rest upon the table as he turns a stray sugar packet around in his fingers. “It’s been a bit of an adjustment.”

“You’re looking well through,” she blurts, before she has time to stop herself.

He smirks and she feels her skin grow hot as he retorts “I could say the same about you.”

She clears her throat, eager to switch gears in the conversation. “So, are you gonna grab a coffee, or are you just passing through?”

“Well, actually, since I’ve run into you, I wondered if perhaps you’d like to join me for something stronger?”

She raises her eyebrows. She knows it’s a bad idea, the trouble is the voice telling her that is not as loud as the one screaming at her to say yes.

“What are you having?” Aemond asks as they stand at the bar of Maegor’s Holdfast.

“Glass of Rioja, please.”

Aemond nods, turning to the bartender. “Bottle of Rioja and two glasses, please.”

“A whole bottle?!” She hisses, as the bartender moves away to fetch their order.

Aemond gives an easy shrug. “We’re both having the same thing, it makes more sense to share a bottle, than two separate glasses.”

“So, what are you doing with yourself these days?” Aemond asks, as they sit in a cosy corner of the pub, sipping their wine.

“Working, mostly,” she tells him, “I’m commissioning editor for Gold Cloak Magazine.”

“Impressive,” he says, raising his glass to her. “You’ve done well for yourself.”

“Thanks to you,” she replies quietly, a heated feeling of shame feeling as though it envelopes her. She’s keen to change the subject. “So, what’s going on with you?”

“I can’t return to Red Keep Legal, I’m no longer allowed to practice law. I figured I’d study in another field, maybe history or philosophy, see where that takes me. I’m living back with my mother until I get back on my feet.”

“How’s the family?”

“Mother is okay. Fussing over me far too much now that I’m back. Grandfather has retired, he’s gone back to Oldtown, got himself a nice little cottage. It’s fairly quiet at the house, feels empty.”

“Are Helaena and Aegon not there anymore?”

Aemond shakes his head, taking a long sip of wine before speaking again. “Helaena’s currently overseas in Qarth, doing a conservation study on some sort of beetle. Aegon’s gone to Braavos, he’s decided a life by the sea suits him better now that he’s sober.”

“Aegon’s sober?!”

“Yeah, it surprised me too. Apparently his drinking got quite a lot worse after I was put away. Mother finally had enough and forced him back to rehab. It stuck this time.”

“Good for him. I’m pleased.”

“Hmm. Enough about my family, I want to know all about your new job. Tell me everything.”

Over the next few hours, they fall into effortless conversation, and as one bottle of wine turns into two, it’s easy to forget the nature of their unusual relationship, it feels as though she’s chatting with an old friend.

She tells him all about the freelance work she’s undertaken over the last few years, as well as how she found herself with a job offer from Gold Cloak. They chat about music, films, share jokes and anecdotes, though always careful to avoid mention of Aemond’s incarceration or anything related to it. Aemond is witty, oddly charming and fiercely intelligent, if she hadn't interviewed him in the wake of his nephew’s murder then she could definitely see him as someone she’d be attracted to.

As she drains her final glass of wine, the second empty bottle calling out like a beacon that it’s time to go home, she feels fuzzy headed, her eyes and limbs heavy.

Oh shit, I’m drunk.

She stumbles as she rises from her seat, and Aemond places a steadying hand on her arm, the warmth she sees in his smile as he looks down at her taking her breath away. He looks nothing like a killer, just an ordinary man.

“Come on,” he says, offering her his arm, “I’ll walk you home.”

It doesn’t occur to her to ask how he knows where she lives as he walks her back to her block of flats. Her mind feeling thick from the effects of the wine, she doesn’t resist when he leans down, his lips pressing against hers as he steps her backwards over the threshold of her front door.

He dominates the kiss, the taste of red wine upon his lips potent and sweet. He holds her tight against him, his mouth devouring hers. Their movements are needy and desperate as her hands help to push his jacket from his shoulders and it drops to the floor, along with her laptop bag, with a soft thump. It’s enough to temporarily break her out of her passionate haze and she pulls back reluctantly, her voice a shaky whisper.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Hmmm, and yet it’s happening anyway,” he replies huskily, his hand coming to rest at the back of her neck as he kisses her hungrily once more, his tongue licking greedily at hers.

Every part of her mind that is screaming at her to stop is silenced by his lips, all sense and inhibitions dulled by alcohol. Having been career focused for so long, her love life has taken a backseat, she can’t remember the last time anyone touched her like this. It’s exhilarating to feel wanted, desired, and so she loses herself in the sensation, her mouth moving against his with equal enthusiasm as they stumble back towards the sofa.

He presses her into the plushness of the cushions, the pair of them hastily kicking off their shoes, before he settles on top of her. He trails hot, open mouthed kisses over her jaw and neck, before bringing a hand to the front of her blouse, a quick flick of his wrist tears it open, sending buttons clattering onto the glass top surface of the nearby coffee table.

Before she is able to protest, she is silenced once more by the feel of his mouth upon her, lavishing attention to the swell of her breasts, visible over the tops of the cups of her bra. How is he able to do that, to obliterate all of her thoughts through mere touch alone? It’s dizzying, and her breaths quicken, turning to soft pants as his path continues downwards, leaving a blazing trail in its wake as he shifts his lips to her stomach. His hands roughly tug down her leggings, as he pulls away, tossing them carelessly over his shoulder once they’re all the way off.

As he rests on his haunches over her, she is painfully aware of the imbalance; he kneels before her, fully dressed, while she is beneath him in just her underwear. She squirms slightly in embarrassment, feeling her skin grow heated.

It’s as if he’s able to read her mind, his lips twitching with the ghost of a smirk as his seeing eye stares her down, darkened with arousal. Grabbing the hem of his shirt he tugs it up over his head, allowing it to follow the same path her leggings had.

She feels her core throb with want as her gaze travels down his bare torso. Lean, lithe hardened muscle defines his chest and abdomen in a way that she has only ever seen before in Grecian statues. He descends upon her again, not giving her the opportunity to admire him for long, covering her body with his own as he captures her lips again, his teeth nipping delicately at her bottom lip.

His knee nudges its way between her legs, pushing against her through the lace of her knickers, and she whines into the kiss, her mind immediately racing back to all the times his knee had bumped hers during their interviews. Is this what he’d wanted all along? The idea makes her pulse thrum and her blood run hot. It’s sick and twisted, but she can’t find herself to care, not when the friction of his actions feels so agonisingly addictive. 

His lips pull away from hers, and his hand snakes between their bodies, taking up the space his knee had occupied until just a moment ago. He cups her mound through the fabric of her underwear, humming in satisfaction as she bucks her hips against his palm, chasing the pressure his knee had given her.

“Eager little thing,” he whispers darkly, hooking a finger into the elastic of her gusset and tugging it to one side.

It isn’t until the coolness of the air hits her bare flesh that she realises just how wet she is, and she’d feel ashamed were it not for the fact she can see Aemond’s pupil dilate at the sight of it.

He teases the pads of his fingers through her folds, spreading the stickiness of her arousal from her sensitive bud to her opening and back again. Her breath hitches at the sensation, every nerve ending in her body feeling as though it’s aflame.

“You’re soaking,” he murmurs, eye flickering up to meet hers.

She opens her mouth to respond, but before she can get the words out, he’s bringing his fingers away from her core and pushing them past her lips and into her mouth. She mewls around his digits at the tart taste of herself upon her tongue, and as he takes her hand, bringing it forward to cup the hardness of him through his trousers, she finds herself sucking on them, palming at him eagerly simultaneously.

He groans quietly, pressing himself against her touch. “Good girl.”

Withdrawing his fingers from her mouth and swatting her hand away gently, he unbuckles his belt, leaning back over her as he unbuttons and unzips his trousers, pushing them down along with his boxers just enough to free his erection.

She cannot see it, but the feel of it, heavy and leaking, pressing against her entrance is enough to have her walls clenching, eager to take him inside. The initial stretch to accommodate him as he presses forward causes them both to sigh softly in unison, his brows furrowing with exertion as he pushes all the way in to the hilt. The fullness of it makes her ache, and she rolls her hips impatiently, desperate for him to move.

“So needy,” he chastises quietly.

“Please,” is all she’s able to whimper in response.

His hand moves to the back of her head, grabbing a fistful of her hair and gripping it tightly. He holds her in place, so she has no choice but to look at him as he drags his hips back before snapping them forward again.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

She should stop this, they’ve gone too far already, but the buzz of the wine is still coursing its way through her, and with every brush of the head of his cock against the sensitive spot deep inside of her, the urge to put an end to what’s happening rapidly fades.

Her legs tangle with his, as she meets him thrust for thrust. He is slow to withdraw, but quick to slam forward again, driving him impossibly deep into her. His grip on her hair and the forced eye contact make it almost too much to bear. The intensity with which he looks at her, studies the contortions of pleasure her features morph into, is torturous, yet she never wants it to end.

Clinging to him tightly, her fingernails dig crescent moons into the flesh of his shoulder blades, his jaw beginning to slacken as with every push forward she feels him pulsate. He’s getting close, and she is too, the tell tale tensing of her thighs and quivering inside of her letting her know she’s edging closer to her peak.

She is desperate to turn her face away, not wanting to be staring directly into his eye as she falls apart, but Aemond’s grip on her hair is iron clad, she cannot move her head. With one last push forward, she tightens and spasms around him, a broken cry escaping her as she stares at him, eyes wide and brows knitted together as warm waves of pleasure ripple through her.

Something akin to a growl rumbles in Aemond’s throat, and she feels him still, knowing he’s about to reach his own end. Not wanting her own ecstasy to be short lived by him pulling out, she is quick to reassure him in a breathy whisper.

“I’m on the pill.”

“I know,” he groans, before letting go, spilling himself inside of her with a grunt. He lets go of her hair, burying his face into the crook of her neck as his body shudders, his length twitching and pulsing within her sensitive heat.

They remain tangled together for a few moments, both breathing heavily as they attempt to recover and slowly come back down to earth. As the blissful fog begins to lift, she is struck by a realisation.

I know.

“How do you know I’m on the pill?” She asks, her voice quiet and hoarse.

Aemond lays quiet for a moment, his breaths warm and moist against the flesh of her neck as they calm. When he eventually pulls back and looks at her, there’s something different in the way he looks at her. His stare is cold, almost crazed, similar to what she had seen the day they’d first met in the visitors room of Dragonstone Prison.

“I know everything about you,” he says with a soft smile, that doesn’t play upon the rest of his features.

Her heart lurches in her chest, fear turning her blood icy, the effects of the wine disappearing entirely as she’s left starkly sobered.

“What do you mean?” She asks quietly.

He hums thoughtfully, brushing her hair away from her face in a gesture that could be considered affectionate, were it not for the sudden change in atmosphere.

“I suppose there’s no point in keeping secrets, not now we know each other so…intimately,” he muses. “I enjoyed our talks together, I wanted them to continue, but when it became clear to me that that wasn’t reciprocated, I needed a way to continue to keep in touch. So I had you watched, followed, everything you did was reported back to me. It’s made the last five years more bearable still having a connection to you. It’s been better still being able to keep tabs myself over the last few weeks.”

Tears prickle her eyes, a wave of nausea sweeping over her. “You’re sick!”

“Am I?” He asks, cocking his head as he strokes her hair absentmindedly. “Or is that you? Because for me, our little tryst seems perfectly normal, an inevitability, considering my interest in you. However, for you, you barely know me. I’m someone you interviewed half a decade ago, and you opened your legs for me the very same day I happened to make you aware I was back in your life. I’d say that makes you a whore.”

“Get off!” She cries, squirming beneath him, attempting to push him off. The thought that his softening member is still nestled within her has her reeling with disgust. He is stronger than she is though, and refuses to budge, keeping her right where she is, as he grips her jaw tightly, forcing her to look at him.

“Behave,” he hisses, “you’ve seen what happens to people who anger me. You sat through an entire trial for it.”

“That was manslaughter,” she says in a trembling voice, a tear trickling down her cheek.

“That’s what I was sentenced for, yes, but I’ll tell you a secret…I saw Lucerys, and I drove my car towards him anyway.”

He laughs softly, as he gazes down at her, her eyes widened in horror, as her chest heaves. “His expression was rather similar to yours, actually, when he realised what was about to happen.”

“You’re a murderer,” she sobs, frantically trying to push him off of her.

“Oh, darling,” he soothes mockingly, “but you did such a wonderful job of portraying me as otherwise.”

“What are you going to do to me?!” She asks, panic fluttering acridly up from her chest and into her throat.

“Nothing at all, if you don’t overreact. Don’t get any funny ideas about going to the police either.”

“What?!”

“I don’t think your career could withstand such an enormous blunder, not a second time anyway. Imagine how that would look, the second time you’ve painted a criminal as a saint, and not only that but this time you’ve slept with him. That would be quite the fall from grace.”

He pins her wrists above her head, though all the fight has left her, she sags beneath him, hot tears flowing freely down her cheeks. “I can’t believe this…”

“Believe it,” he hisses. “You’ve built your career on the back of me, and I think it’s about time you repay the favour. For five years you’ve enjoyed success, all thanks to me, while I rotted in prison. You owe me.”

“What do you want from me?” She asks weakly.

“Nothing I haven’t had already,” he tells her, leaning down to run the tip of her nose against her cheek. “Be sweet to me, and I’ll be sweet to you, because if you try to take me down over this, I can guarantee you have much more to lose than I do.”

Her stomach turns, her eyes closing in defeat. There is no escape from this, she simply has to accept her fate or endure mutually assured destruction.

Aemond’s expression has softened when she opens her eyes again. His hands move from her wrists to her hands, entwining their fingers. “There she is,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “No more tears now, you’ll spoil all the fun we’re going to have together.”

This is a nightmare, This is a nightmare. Wake up.

As she feels him harden inside of her once more, the heartbreaking realisation that she’s not dreaming settles over her. This is a waking nightmare, and it’s only just beginning.

[cod-dump]

A Married Man

(Inspiration struck me in the dead of night)

———

Soap had been flirting with Ghost for a while, and the man had returned most of his advancements with jokes and more flirtation. But then things started to get serious and there was something obviously bothering Ghost.

Finally, he sat Soap down one evening, nervous and having a difficult time holding Soap’s gaze.

“Johnny, I have something I need to tell you. I should have told you already and I can’t avoid it any longer.”

Soap grew nervous, worried, as Ghost spoke.

“What is it? You can talk to me about anything.”

“I… God, there is no easy way to say this… I’m married.”

Soap stares at Ghost, expecting laughter because this had to be a joke. This was a fucking joke.

“You’re married?”

Ghost was quick to explain, making Soap realize that it was in fact not a joke.

“We got married years ago! We were deep undercover, shit happened, and we got married. It was to keep our cover so we had a legit wedding… and we haven’t gotten a divorce yet.”

Soap blinks, “Mission? Are you married to someone I know?”

Ghost shrinks, “Yes…”

“What the fuck— And you both had been keeping this from me?! Who is it?”

Ghost chews on his lip as he turns away, “I should’ve told you with him. He would’ve been able to explain it better…”

Soap blinks before it hits him. He stares blankly, not sure how to respond. Ghost was obviously nervous, now refusing to look at Soap. Soap looks away from him, staring at nothing in particular as he processed everything.

“This… oh my god-“

Soap gets up and Ghost starts talking again.

“I should’ve told you long ago! Fuck- We should’ve ended the marriage by now!”

Ghost stands and Soap turns to him and hugs him.

“I need to process this, okay? I’ll- We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Ghost is stunned as Soap pulls away and leaves the room. Soap couldn’t think about anything other than the situation. He knows Ghost is losing his mind back in his room, but Soap couldn’t think of much other than the fact that the man he’s been seeing was married. And married to—

“Oh my god-“

Soap stops when he sees the man in question right in front of him. Minding his own busy, Nik talking to him about something rather unimportant. Well, it was unimportant at the moment.

“YOU’RE MARRIED?!”

Price and Nik stop walking and turn. Price blinks, taking a good look at Soap before he understands what is happening. Nik looks at Soap before looking at Price and just grins.

“Oooo-“

“Nik, not now-“

“When were you going to tell me?! Just carry on like nothing- Like I haven’t been fucking dating your husband?!”

Price looks around them, “Wouldn’t you rather have this conversation somewhere more private?”

“I thought you were married to Nik?!”

Price sighs as Nik continues grinning, the man deciding to cut off Price from speaking.

“On all levels except legally, we’re married.”

Soap stares at Price. Price groans as the man silently presses for him to say something, anything that would explain everything.

“Let’s go to my office. Except you, go to bed.”

Nik pouts , “You’re forcing me to miss the fun?”

“Go.”

Nik sighs dramatically before he leaves, snickering as he continues down the hall. Soap doesn’t take his eyes off of Price for a moment as they head to his office. As soon as the door closed, Soap cornered Price.

“What. The. Fuck?!”

Price was acting much calmer than what Ghost had, though given they were in two very different positions given their situation, “What exactly did he tell you?”

“That you two got married during mission to keep your cover.”

“Hm, yea, that sums it up.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Six-seven years. Though we lived together during that mission for three, married for the last year.”

Soap had to sit down, unable to stand. He chose the couch given it was closest and sat down, leaning against it with his jaw hung open. Price, still keeping an annoyingly calm composure, sits at his desk.

“Wales, 2016. Small shit town with some terrorist crawling all over it. Had to get in and figure out exactly what was happening. Simon and I were placed together by Morris and clearly he didn’t think of how suspicious two fit, military men were showing up out if nowhere and moving into a house together. So, we decided to play as a couple wanting to start a life together.”

Soap blinks, “And that worked?”

“Surprisingly. Though after a year and a half of less than good acting, people started getting suspicious. So I decided to make a showy proposal to get things back on track.”

Soap couldn’t help but let out a laugh, “God…”

“Bought a fucking expensive ring, too. Silver, black diamond-“

Soap sits up straight, “No fucking way- He fucking wears that thing all the time!”

Price blinks in surprise, “You’re joking.”

“No! On leave, on our personal days, on our fucking dates-“

Price wheezes, “Guess I did a too good of a job finding something his taste! I thought he would’ve sold the thing by now! Good few thousand on that ring.”

“He told me it was custom.”

“It was. Go big or go home, and a proposal must be big.”

“God you’re extra.”

Price smirks, “What Kate says. You should’ve seen the wedding.”

“Fuck… Can’t believe it… I’ve been fucking the captain’s husband.”

Price laughs and Soap groans out. This was a lot to take in.

Price calms after a good bit of laughter, sighing and leaning back in his chair, “God, can’t believe it took this fucking long for him to tell you! Wait… where is Simon?”

Soap’s eyes widen and he jumps up, “Fuck- Talk to you later! I left him stewing too long!”

Soap runs out of the office without another word, running all the way back to Ghost’s room. He didn’t knock, just barged in and surprised the fuck out of Ghost. One panic attack after a narrowly missed thrown knife and Soap is curled up with Ghost on the floor, his blanket pulled off the bed and wrapped around them.

Ghost was clinging to Soap, head tucked under his chin as Soap held him close.

“Shouldn’t have left like that…”

Ghost mumbles against Soap’s chest, “It was a lot to handle… should’ve done it with Price.”

“God… I still can’t believe you two assholes kept the fact that you’re married to yourselves this long!”

“I didn’t feel the need to say anything if Price wasn’t worried about it.”

Soap hums, “Fair… I have to know something… Did you two ever-?”

Ghost bites Soap and his sentence is forcefully cut off by a surprised yelp.

“Fucking feral shit-! STOP BITING-“

[samaraannhan20]

Spencer Reid Imagine: You Have an Audience

A/N: I tried to make this timeline accurate, but after a while I realized it wasn’t and I didn’t want to change it, so just know that this does not necessarily fit the timeline of the show. In my head I was envisioning season 8 Spencer. 

“Hey hun?” I call out from the bathroom where I am standing in the bathroom getting ready for bed. Spencer is right out the door in the bedroom, and I hear him close his book and get up to come walk to where I am. When he reaches the doorway he stops.

“Yeah sweetheart?”

“I don’t have work on Friday. I could bring you lunch that day,” I tell him, turning to him as I put moisturizer on.  

“You want to risk your dad finding out if you come in?” he asks, with concern written on his face.

“I swear he said something about not being at work the other day,” I say, pausing and grabbing my tooth brush while thinking back on my conversations with my dad the last few days. He kisses the top of my head and then goes back to the bed to lay down and read his book. As I stand there scrubbing my teeth I realize what he had said. 

“Mhe faid bhe las la pate hat ay!” I exclaim, rushing into the bedroom with my toothbrush hanging from my mouth. Spencer drops his book and laughs as he looks at me standing there looking like a madman. 

“What?” he asks when he stops laughing. I hold my finger up and walk into the bathroom, rinse my mouth out, shut off the light, and go lay down in the bed. I curl up next to Spencer before repeating my sentence. 

“He said he has a date with Krystall that day at lunch, so he shouldn’t be in the office when I bring you lunch. But I can call Penny tomorrow to double check,” I say, before closing his book and taking it from him, tossing it onto my night stand. “Let’s go to bed though. I have a full day tomorrow, after having parent-teacher conferences at the beginning of the week.”

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

I shove a bite of leftovers in my mouth as I pick up the phone and call Penny

“Hey Pen!” I say as Penny picks up the call. 

“Hey little Rossi! What’s up?” 

“Do you know if my dad is going to be at the BAU during lunch tomorrow? I was wanting to bring Spence lunch because I don’t have school, but I want to make sure my dad won’t be there.”

“Y/N! You guys still haven’t told him?” she questions. 

“No. We decided the other day that we were going to tell him after our six months next week. We never doubted that we would stay together, but we wanted to be able to show it was serious before we told him. Because if we had just gotten together when we told him… well,.”

“He’d lose his cool and make you break up. Right,” she replies with a small chuckle. 

“Yeah. So, he told me he would be on a date at lunch tomorrow, but before I commit to bringing Spence lunch I want to make sure he will actually be gone. And not only do you know everything, but I know he has to fill out a thing saying he’s going to be out. Which I still think is weird since it’s just lunch, but I guess it makes sense if there’s a chance he won’t be back before his lunch break is over.”

“Y/N you just rambled so hard. Let me look real quick sweet pea,” she says, and I hear her start typing away. “Yep,” she says after a second. “Looks like he will be gone for lunch tomorrow. You should be good to go.”

“Awesome, thanks Pen! Do you want a dessert or anything when I come in?” 

“You know I do. Just bring me something from wherever you wind up getting takeout. I’m not picky about my desserts,” she says with a small laugh. 

“Great. Thanks again Penny! I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”

“Okay! I’ll send an email downstairs warning them that you are coming. Bye!” she responds, and I say thanks and bye and then hang up the phone. 

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“I overheard your dad asking Penny why you were coming in at lunch tomorrow,” Spencer says to me as we sit at my kitchen table eating dinner later that night. 

“Oh crap,” I say around my bite of crab rangoon. “What did she say?” I respond after finishing chewing. 

“She said you were bringing her lunch and hanging out for a bit. At which point he told her to keep you there until he got back from lunch with Krystall because he hasn’t seen you in a few weeks,” he says, shooting me a look that says more than his words did.

“I know. It is bad for me to not see him for so long, but I knew that if I saw him in person he would ask me why I seem so happy and I would immediately spill about our entire relationship because I have no backbone,” I tell him, standing up and taking my half full plate over to the counter and grabbing the saran wrap , wrapping my leftovers up. 

“You’re done already?” he asks from where I left him at the table, and I don’t say anything, just nodding and then walking over to the couch and sitting down, grabbing my kindle and turning it on. I sit there silently, not even reading, just staring off into space with tears slowly falling down my face. 

I hear Spencer stand up and push his chair in a few minutes later, and then I hear him walk over to me. He leans down and presses a kiss to the top of my head. He walks around the couch, setting something down on the side table before lifting my feet up and resting them on his lap as he sits down. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, taking my kindle out of my hands and setting it next to whatever he had placed on the table, and then pulling me even closer to him by my legs. 

“I feel so guilty for keeping so many secrets from him. I mean he didn’t even really know my half sister, and yet they’ve formed a relationship like ours is. Or I guess used to be. When I was a kid and my mom decided she didn’t want me around anymore and sent me to live with him we built such a great relationship. And throughout high school it stayed great. And then I moved out for college and we spent less time together, and he got back together with Krystall, and I had moments where I felt her daughter and Joy were replacing me. 

“Which I told him about and we fixed it and things were great again. I graduated, got a teaching job nearby, and we were great. I would spend so many nights having dinner with him, or with him and Krystall. I would go with him to visit Joy. He knew everything there was to know about me, I told him everything,” I say, wiping a tear off my face as I finish my speech. 

“And then you got together with me,” Spencer says quietly. I nod, allowing another tear to fall down my face, wiping it off and then I reach out and grab Spencer’s hand.

“I don’t want you to think I regret you. Because that is the last thing I am thinking or feeling. However, I am having extended amounts of anxiety about him finding out before we tell him. I don’t think that he won’t approve, because he knows how amazing you are, you’ve been friends for so long. He sees you as a son already, and not just because you’re with his kid and probably going to be family one day,” I say, the last sentence slipping out of my mouth so easily. I knew the comment wouldn’t bother Spencer, because even though we have only been together for a little less than six months we have had the conversation already, and we both feel that we are it for each other. “But the reality we have to think about is the fact that we do have a sizable age difference, which he is not going to just let go. And he’s not going to be happy we kept it a secret for three months. And he probably won’t be happy about…” and before I can finish the last sentence Spencer cuts me off. 

“Okay listen. First of all, in the long run, I’m only eight years older than you. Which isn’t bad. It just seems longer because I graduated from everything so early. And because when we met I was working with your dad and you were still in college. Yes, I’m 32 to your 24, but you have more dating experience than I do, because you went to college in your late teens and early twenties, not when you were 12. And as for the keeping it a secret for three months, I think over time he will understand why we did that. I mean he kept getting back together with Krystall from you for a good amount of time. How long was it again?”

“Like almost a year,” I say with a small laugh. 

“Exactly my point. He’ll get over it,” he says, and takes my hand, pressing a small kiss to the top of it. “Now, if you’re done freaking out, I brought your food over for you. I know you weren’t actually done, that you were just anxious,” he says, reaching over to the side table, grabbing the plate and handing it to me. As I take the plate from him I lean forward pressing a kiss to his lips. 

“I love you. And I appreciate you so much. I wouldn’t want anyone else to know me so well,” I tell him, before pulling away and immediately popping a bite of food into my mouth.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“Y/N, I didn’t realize you were coming in for lunch today,” Aaron says as I carry the to-go bag full of food over to the kitchenette in the BAU. 

“Yeah, I had the day off,” I say with a small smile as I put things down. 

“Well, I’m assuming it’s for Penny, since your dad is out for lunch with Krystall today,” he says with a knowing smile on his face. 

“Oh man. You know everything don’t you,” I say with a groan, sitting down at the table in the small kitchen area. 

“Yeah. Turns out I am pretty good at my job,” he responds with a smile. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell your dad anything until you and Spencer decide to. Also, I know my opinion isn’t really the one that matters, but I think you and Spencer are a good match,” he says, patting my shoulder before walking away. I put my face in my hands and groan, before getting up and walking over to Spencer’s desk. I sit down in his chair and spin around in it, glancing around the rest of the room. Before too long I hear voices begin to drift into the room. 

“Wow it smells good in here,” I hear Derek say as he walks in the room. He spots me before Spencer does, and I watch as a mischievous smile comes over his face. “Hey baby, come to bring me lunch?” he says, walking over to me and picking me up from Spencer’s chair, spinning me around before setting me on the floor and placing a loud kiss on my cheek. 

“In your dreams Morgan,” I say with a laugh, walking around him to Spencer. I fling myself at him as soon as I get close enough. “Hey babe,” I say, stretching my face up to his for a quick kiss. He mumbles a hello, and I unwrap myself from him and take his hand, dragging him over to the table. “I got Italian. I was craving some chicken alfredo,” I tell him as I sit down next to him and start pulling the food out of the bag. He chuckles and helps me unload the bag, before sitting down next to me. 

We sit and eat our food together, making small talk, and talking to his coworkers everytime they come up to the table we’re sitting at. 

“Hey teacher lady,” Penny says to me as she sits down next to me with her lunch in her hands. 

“Hey Pen,” I say, leaning over and giving her a hug. “So you told my dad I was bringing you lunch?” I ask with a small smile.

“It seemed like the best answer. Unless you wanted me to out your relationship,” she says with a shrug and a sly smile. 

“Thanks Pen. Always thinking on the fly.” She shrugs again and digs into her lunch. I hand her the dessert I got her and she thanks me with a small smile.  “Did he tell you when he would be back?” I ask her after a minute or two of the three of us eating in silence. 

“No. Sometimes it's a longer lunch and sometimes it’s shorter. Depends on when Krystall has plans next.” I nod in understanding, and then turn my attention to Spencer. 

“Do we have plans for dinner tonight?” 

“Not any specific ones. It’s Friday though so I thought I could order some type of take-out for us and we could watch a movie,” he says and I nod.

“Ooh can we rent that new rom-com? I know they aren’t your favorite but I’m in the mood for one. We can watch that and then a foreign film for you,” I say, hoping the foreign film will get him to say yes. 

“We don’t also have to watch a foreign film,” he says with a small laugh and shake of his head. “We can watch that new movie. I don’t have a problem with it,” he says, leaning over and kissing the top of my head. I look up at him and smile, before pulling him closer and placing a kiss on his lips.

“Aww, you guys sicken me,” Penny says in a baby voice, and I laugh, flipping her the bird and then kissing Spencer again. “Um, Y/N,” she says when I pull away from Spencer again, and I turn and look at her, not even registering the nervousness on her face.  

“What Penny?” I ask with a small smile on my face, my smile growing bigger when Spencer pulls my chair closer to his and wraps his arm around me. “You have an audience,” she says in a whisper, pointing behind us. I sit up straight and glance at Spencer, grabbing his hand in mine, before hearing the tell-tale clearing of my father’s throat. 

“I am not turning around,” I whisper, my hands starting to shake as I realize who exactly is standing in the doorway of the BAU. “He can’t do anything if I don’t even turn and look at him,” I say even quieter than before. Spencer squeezes my hand, looking down at his food, and Penny’s eyes keep darting from him to me and then back again, with a dart of her eyes to my dad every few seconds. We sit there in awkward silence, me refusing to move, for what feels like a century. 

“There’s no case today, and my paperwork is all done. We could do this stand off all day long,” I hear from my father after probably a minute has passed. “Or, you could stand up and walk with me to my office.” I flinch, looking over at Spencer, and then at Penny. Penny scrambles to gather her food, and walks with her head down past my father, mumbling a small good luck to me as she leaves. Spencer squeezes my hand, and I nod my head in defeat, standing up. Spencer stands up with me, pulling me into a hug.

“Nothing he says matters,” he whispers to me as we hug. “I love you and you love me and that is what matters. Nothing else,” he says, and then places a kiss on the top of my head and lets me go. I nod again, and then turn my body and stiffly begin to walk to my father’s office. I hear him begin to follow me, but not before I hear what he says to Spencer.

“You’re next. My office in twenty minutes,” he says, and I can’t even bring myself to look over my shoulder at Spencer, instead choosing to continue walking to my father’s office. 

As I enter my father’s office I immediately sink into the couch he has sitting on one wall, covering my face with my hands. It isn’t long before he walks in, and I hear him turn one of the chairs sitting at his desk to look at me. He sits down silently, not saying a word for at least two minutes. After what feels like a century of sitting in silence, he finally speaks up. 

“I’m not mad. I know you think I am, but I’m not,” he says, and I let my hands drop from my face, looking at him. 

“What?” I ask, shock evident in my voice. 

“I mean I was mad a month ago when I figured it out, but I’m not mad anymore,” he says, a small smile coming across his face. 

“A month?” I whisper, confusion written across my face as I try to figure out how he knew a month ago.

“You aren’t as sneaky as you think. A little over a month ago I drove over to your apartment because it had been awhile since we spent any time together, so I wanted to see if you wanted to get dinner together. When I pulled up to your building, I saw Spencer’s car outside. At first I thought it was a coincidence, that maybe he was seeing someone else in your building, so I parked and headed in. Your doorman let me in because he knew I was your dad,” he said, and I immediately remembered which night he was talking about, because Mark had told me he had sent my dad up, but because I never heard him knock I chalked it up to Mark getting mixed up over which tenant’s dad went up.

“So I went up to your apartment. When I got there, I knocked, but I guess you didn’t hear me. I stood in the hallway and waited, but I could hear you talking to someone. Being the profiler that I am, I leaned on your door and listened to the voices, trying to make sure you weren’t in trouble, because you hadn’t told me you were dating any one person, or even that you were going on dates. And then I heard him,” he says, and I immediately remember what he had heard. 

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

Flashback:

“What are you going to tell your dad when you’re out of town next weekend?” Spencer asked me as I stood in the kitchen chopping vegetables. I pause my cutting, thinking I heard a knock at the door, but then determine it was just my knife hitting the cutting board and start up again.  

“That I’m going on a trip with a few of my fellow teachers at work. But I also will only have to tell him if you guys don’t get called on a case. If you do it won’t matter because I won’t be going anywhere,” I tell him with a shrug. 

“I mean you could still go,” Spencer says, and I stop what I’m doing to turn and look at him. 

“For one, I’m not going on a couples trip to a spa without you. And for two, you’re a profiler. You should know how dangerous it is for women to travel on their own,” I tell him, crossing over to him. 

“I know, but I still think you deserve a weekend away. I know the stress of not telling your dad has been weighing on you. You need a weekend at a spa.”

“Yeah, but it wouldn’t be fun without the man I love,” I say, and stretch up to place a kiss on his lips. 

“I love you,” he says in response, and then pulls me in again. When we pull away again he smirks at me. “How hungry are you?” he asks, and I laugh and take his hand, dragging him into my bedroom. Neither of us noticed the shadow of feet under the door as we walked by it. 

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“You heard us talking about the spa trip,” I whisper looking at the ceiling as I calculate just how much he may have heard. 

“Yeah. I finally decided it was time to stop eavesdropping when I heard you walk towards your room. I went down to the lobby, waved bye to your doorman, and left. I was pretty angry so I didn’t text you or call you to let you know I had been by. I went home, and told Krystall everything that I had heard. I wanted to get right back in my car and go over to your apartment and yell at you, but she talked me out of it. She reminded me that you would tell me when you were ready. I expected it to be within the next week, but then you still didn’t, and before I knew it it was past the time where it would be acceptable for me to bring up the fact that I knew. So I decided to wait until you were ready to let me know,” he says, and the way he sits back after he finishes shows me that he’s done. 

“We were going to tell you next week. Next week is our six month anniversary, and we were waiting to tell you until after that,” I say, looking at him to see his reaction to knowing just how long we had been hiding this from him. He doesn’t show much of one, so I continue. “I wanted to be able to prove that we were serious about each other before I told you. I knew you would wind up thinking it was just a fling and it would change your work relationship with him if you knew before it had been a while.” 

“Honey, from the moment I realized something had changed about you, I knew whatever it was was either a forever kind of thing or something that was going to put you in the hospital if it ended. I never would have thought it was just a fling between the two of you,” he says, standing up and coming to sit next to me on the couch. I scoot over and wrap my arms around him. 

“I just didn’t want you to be disappointed,” I tell him, tears welling up in my eyes as he wraps his arms around me. 

“I never would be,” he whispers, placing a kiss on my forehead.  We sit together in silence for a few minutes, before a knock comes from the door, and the door pushes open less than ten seconds later. 

“Sir, I love your daughter,” Spencer says as he steps foot in the room and closes the door behind him, not looking at the two of us as he does so. I laugh a watery laugh, and my dad kisses me on the forehead once more before pulling back and standing up. 

“I know you do,” he says as he walks over to where Spencer is standing. Spencer looks at him confused, and then looks at me and sees the tears falling down my face. He moves to walk over to me, but I hold my hand up and motion towards my dad. 

“Rossi, I don’t know what she has told you so far, but I want you to know that I love her more than anything, and I plan to one day marry her,” Spencer says, looking at my dad. My dad chuckles at Spencer and holds out his hand.

“Welcome to the family then Reid.”

[miyoii]

BE WITH ME 𖥔 bada lee x fem!reader (s.her) next

genre: angst | summary — all you want is her; word count: 628

an: requested by @stupendoussportseclipsepaper ! sorry i couldn’t fit everything in one part 😭 i’ll update again in a few though!!

for the past few days, their apartment felt empty. even with two people live in it, filled with cherished memories they would never forget. the empitiness it held didn’t go by unnoticed.

yn sighed for tenth time that day. this week has been hectic for her. leaving the house early in the morning and arriving way past midnight was starting to get to her. good thing they had a few days off of filming, yet she doesnt seem to enjoy it as much as she thought she would.

well, how could she. the person she was yearning to spend time for the past week has been going in and out of the house. she couldn’t even greet her a good morning or good night, heck, they don’t even say ‘i love you’ anymore.

yn tried to keep it in, thinking that her girlfriend is trying to make up from the lost of time with her friends. but this day was the last straw for her. yn didn’t even get to spend the break with the love of her life, now they have to go back to their gruesome schedule by tomorrow.

looking at the clock, it was 1:30 am midnight. the couple needs to leave in a few hours, but yn’s girlfriend is still yet to be seen. she was about to give up on waiting for her, until she heard the sound of the door being unlocked. hearing footsteps getting close by, yn let out one last breath before greeting her, “where have you been?”

the figure stood by the entrance of their living room, “out.” she responded shortly. “its past midnight, we have shooting in a few hours bada.” yn said, keeping herself cool.

“can’t i take a breather for a moment? this past few days haven’t been easy.” bada replied while sighing, “did you think it was easy for me, huh?” “what?” she asked looking at you with furrowed eyebrows.

“bada we have a four day break, and during those days i haven’t even gotten to spend time with you. you’re always out!” yn replied getting irritated, “god yn. not everytime we have to be together, i have a life outside too.”

“am i not part of that life bada? am i not that important to my girlfriend that i’m here begging on my knees for her to give me attention?”

“no, its not like that-“

“then why?! why am i awake at 1am waiting for you to come home? bada…all i want for you is to be with me. that is all i want from you.” yn said standing up, as her voice getting weaker from all of the emotions pilling in.

“why are you so fucking needy.” bada scoffed, too blinded by her own emotions to control her senses, “even jiyu wasn’t this clingy, and she stays at home every fucking day while i’m out working!” she said without thinking.

yn stared at her in disbelief, before letting out a pained laugh. “wow! after all this time bada, you’re bringing up jiyu now? don’t tell me you still love her-“

“i don’t love her yn!”

“are you seeing her then?” bada looked at you silently, not answering. that was all you needed as an answer. a tear fell down from your eyes before you wiped it away and walked past bada towards the front door.

“wait yn-“ bada tried to call her but it was too late, yn shutted the door with a loud bang, and went out, only carrying her wallet and keys.

bada messed her hair in frustration as she sat down at their couch, “why do you always have to mess things up.” she talked to herself before a sob broke its way into the space they once filled memories in.

[noisydelusionlove]

Chapter 13: Kneeling

Pairings: Poly141xOriginal Character, PricexOriginal character

Warnings: Military inaccuracies, medical inaccuracies, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics

A/N: I may be MIA posting tomorrow, I am beyond sick, and I am miserable at the moment. My son is also sick, and dealing with a sick 3 year old who has ASD is no joke.

The next morning Aurora opens her eyes as her alarm blares. She sighs as she sits up from under her blanket mountain and glances at her wall calendar, four days until her hit hits full force. Four days to decide if she wants to do this alone or ask her new pack for help. As she sits there the smell that is so obviously Ghost hits her nose. She glances around as she realizes the scent is coming from her, where she had slept cuddled up with his jacket all night. She smiles slightly before shaking her head and dressing quickly to get ready for breakfast. As she finishes dressing a wave of sadness hits her when she no longer smells Ghost on her clothes. She gasps as tears spring to her eyes. She quickly grabs the black pullover and slips it in. It's huge on her but seems to calm her Omega. She sighs, so the emotional part of her pre-heat has started.

A knock on her door causes her to jump. She opens her door to see Kyle and Johnny smiling at her as usual. They both take in her attire with wide eyes, recognizing the jacket and smell immediately. She doesn’t miss how their eyes dart around her room, curious if she is alone. “We went on a bike ride.”She says shyly and the two men relax with a smile. They head off to breakfast, finding Ghost and John already seated at their usual table. Ghost’s eyes widen when he sees Aurora in his jacket.

”You little thief.” He chuckles causing Aurora to blush slightly as she slouches in her chair. He shakes his head as he finishes his breakfast and heads off to his office as usual. Aurora feels the twinge of sadness as she watches one of the packs Alphas leave, but her Omega instincts latch onto the Alpha smell of John, finding comfort that he is still there, but when he finishes his food and leaves as well she can't help the small sniffle that she lets out, her Omega craving the comfort of an Alpha it seems.

At hearing her sniffle Johnny and Kyle immediately turn to look at her with concern etched into their faces. “I’m sorry, I don't know why I got so sad when they left.” She says quietly as she rubs her face, small tears leaking out of her eyes. “I think your Omega is craving an Alpha Lass,” Johnny says as he gently rubs her back, pushing his Beta scent out to try and calm her. Kyle looks at her before laying a hand on her knee. “Why don’t you ask Price to scent you and let you kneel for him? He has more practice with Omegas than Ghost, and remember what I said about spending a day with each of us?” Kyle says lowly as Aurora looks up at him with tears in her eyes.

”Do you think he would? He hasn’t shown interest in me like you three have.” She says quietly, her emotional state causing her to doubt everything. “Trust me, he’s interested. He’s just much older than you so he didn’t want to scare you. He’s also the Captain and didn't want to cause any issues if you weren’t interested.” Kyle says as Aurora gives a small nod.

”I’ll go with you and help you ask, I’ll leave when he says yes so you can have your privacy.” Kyle says with a reassuring smile, but he can't ignore the way his heart races at the idea of his Alpha being accepted by the Omega he has already grown so close to. “Why don't you spend today with Price, I’m free tomorrow, so we can go do some pre-heat shopping off base, and buy anything you need or want that we haven’t gotten already. Soap is free Tuesday and I’ll tell Ghost to be free Wednesday. That way by Wednesday night you’ll know if you’re comfortable for your heat.” He says reassuringly and Aurora gives a small nod. They get up and clean up before heading to John’s office together,

As they walk Aurora’s nerves begin to set in, the smell of nervous Ommega causing Kyle to scrunch up his nose. They stop a few feet from John's door and he turns her to face him. “What's wrong?” He asks as Aurora sighs. “I’ve been scruffed before,” she says quietly and Kyle releases a small growl. He’s witnessed an Omega being scruffed before and the memory still haunts him, watching the Omega become powerless and smelling their fear. He understands why Aurora is nervous about kneeling now, putting herself in a vulnerable position like that when she’s always tried to be so strong must be hard. “I can promise you Price would never do that to you. He will not hurt you I can promise that.” Kyle says as he smiles at her. After a moment of her staring at him, as if looking for any hint of a lie she smiles and nods towards John’s door.

Kyle places a hand on her lower back and leads her to the door. He knocks on the door and waits to hear the gruff voice of his Alpha before opening the door and leading Aurora inside. John is sitting at his desk looking over files but he sits them down as his Beta and the Omega medic enter. He can smell the nervousness on the Omega and he watches the pair curiously. “Is something wrong?” He asks Kyle who shakes his head as he looks down at Aurora with kind eyes. “She’s feeling out of sorts with her heat coming close,” Kyle explains and John nods in sympathy. “When you and Ghost left the table the poor thing began crying. So I told her to ask you to scent her and let her kneel for you for a bit.” Kyle explains and John’s eyes soften as he looks at the smaller Omega.

John motions for Aurora to come closer and after a small push from Kyle, she begins to move. “Is that what you want sweetheart? Do you want me to scent you and have you kneel?” He speaks quietly but he can't help the natural Alpha rumble that escapes his chest at the idea of the pretty little Omega kneeling for him. Aurora nods and John chuckles. “I need to hear it, darling. I won't do anything without your full consent.” He says and Aurora smiles slightly. “I want you to scent me and let me kneel.” She says quietly and John hums in approval as he scoots his desk chair back and pats the top of his desk. “Kyle grab a pillow off my couch for her knees.” He says to his Beta as Aurora slowly makes her way around his desk.

His large hands envelop her hips as he lifts her to sit on his desk before standing. Aurora stares up at him with wide eyes as he slowly leans down to run his nose along her neck, along her scent gland. A small whimper leaves her throat and he lets out a chuckle before turning and baring his neck. Aurora would be embarrassed at how fast she moved to inhale his scent straight from the source if she wasn’t feeling so dizzy from the experience. After a moment John pulls back and gently sets her on her feet. He glances at Kyle who gives a small wave as he exits. “Have you kneeled before?” John asks and Aurora sighs as she looks at him. “Not willingly.” She says as she bites her lip nervously. John nods. “If you want to stop at any time you can.” He says and she nods. John takes the pillow Kyle sat on his desk and places it next to his desk chair. Aurora nervously kneels to her knees on the pillow as she watches John.

He gently moves her hair from her neck before placing his hand along the back of her neck, his thumb rubbing soothing patterns along her scent gland. Aurora closes her eyes and wills her mind to be silent as she focuses on the feeling. Moments later she feels a feeling of calmness settles upon her. She lets out a small purr as she leans into the feeling, inadvertently leaning against John’s thigh. John chuckles as he looks down at her, he goes back to his files, checking in on her frequently, enjoying the scent of content Omega filling his office as well as the pleased purrs rolling out of her chest.

After two hours John texts Kyle to come back so he can pull Aurora out of the headspace she is in. Kyle walks in and smiles as he sees Aurora leaning against John’s leg purring contentedly. “We aren't bonded so I don't know if she will want me, or a Beta when she comes to,” John says honestly and Kyle nods as John slowly pulls his hand off of Aurora’s neck. Her purring stops and she slowly blinks open her eyes to look up at the Beta and Alpha. “How are you feeling sweetheart?” John asks quietly and Aurora releases a small whimper as she leans into him again. Kyle’s eyebrows raise in concern and John chuckles. “She’s still in her Omega headspace, she will come to in a little bit, just leave her here with me.” He chuckles as he reaches down and pats her head.

Half an hour later Aurora awkwardly begins to stand and John stops what he’s doing to smile at her. “Feeling better?” He asks and Aurora nods. “That helped get rid of the emotional shitstorm inside my head thank you,” she says honestly and John smiles as he nods. Aurora goes to leave but stops and turns back to him. “Is that something Alphas can do? Calm their Omegas?” She asks curiously and John nods. “It's what an Alpha should do for their Omega. It’s our job to take care of our Omegas.” He says and Aurora nods. “I know my heat is coming up. I’m figuring out how I want to go about it. I still don't know how to feel about everything but I feel a lot more comfortable now, thank you.” She says and John smiles as he nods. “If I were to be included in that list, of heat help, I wouldn’t say no.” He says and Aurora blushes slightly. “Noted.” She says as she turns to leave. When his door shuts John lets out a chuckle and shakes his head.

The rest of the day Aurora spends in her room reading or napping, her body feeling the need to rest before her incoming heat. When night falls she takes a quick shower and retreats to the comfort of her nest, but not before a text from Kyle comes through.

Gaz: 10 AM be ready! We will go get breakfast and then shopping, There is an Omega-specific store right off base I think you’ll love! See you tomorrow Princess!

Aurora smiles as she texts back a quick confirmation before burying herself under her blanket mountain and slowly drifting to sleep.

<<<Previous Chapter

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Masterlist

@no1runawaymilkdad

@Yearninglustfully

@iloveslasher

@chickennn-soupp

@f-cklife

@nomercyforthewarrior

@serahlune

@grey-shadow6475

@Vincein2d

@itsyogirllaenaa

@imjustheretofightforlove

@chuuuyayayay

@instantkidpaperslime

@the-willows-whisper

@dragons-flare

@throwing-up-butterflies

@neverending-animelove

@creepingeva

@phoenixstark1708

@liidiaaag

@iconic-bubonic

MDNI divider by @arlerts-angel

Header by me

[justaragdollysblog]

Star Performer

A (once again) angsty Showtime fic

Woo! Haven’t written Showtime on here yet, i don’t think. They’re so silly!

Synopsis: Caine and Pomni recently got together, and a certain rabbit needs to make his two cents known about Caine’s priorities.

TW: Hurt/Comfort, Angst

————————————————————————-

Caine wouldn’t say he had a favorite.

He barely even knew what the concept was, and he didn’t ever think about it. Just another complex human behavior he didn’t have the time or memory space to try and comprehend.

That is, until Pomni came along.

She was nervous and somewhat hotheaded, but Caine saw how much she tried to adjust. To enjoy his adventures. To make heads or even tails of what this world was.

And, over time, they had gotten closer. His worldview was a window, only letting a limited view in. Pomni pushed the proverbial window open, and he understood *so* much more now.

Her laugh, the concern she felt for others, what made her upset and made her smile, everything about her made him feel less like code and more like one of them.

They had just gone on another ‘date night’, as Caine had dubbed it. He’d make an adventure, a beautiful pocket of space just for her, and they’d indulge in the endless possibilities that awaited them.

It was a picnic date, after Pomni had pitched the idea (and explained what a picnic was). The digital moon was high in the sky, and the wind was soft and cool. Caine pulled absolutely every trick in the book to make it a beautiful landscape.

Sometime during the date, right near the end, Pomni yawned. She rested her head on his shoulder and fell asleep on him.

Now, this shouldn’t be surprising for any other couple, really. This kind of thing was normal. Not for them.

Pomni was affectionate and sweet, but not touchy. Caine always respected this. He never put a hand on her without silently asking if he could. She loved in her way, he loved in his.

So when Caine felt a head burying itself in the crook of his neck (???), he almost blue-screened. Soft snoring came from the jester’s mouth as she slept on his shoulder.

He knew he absolutely couldn’t mess this up or waste the opportunity. He snapped his fingers, and his coat appeared over her as a blanket. She made a soft, contented noise and smiled just as soft.

He snapped again, wincing at the noise he made. The portal appeared, and he pressed a small kiss to her forehead and floated through.

It was nighttime, and he didn’t think anyone would still be up at all. He was halfway to the dorms to lay her to bed, when a voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Hey, ringmaster!” Jax. The tone was taunting and mischievous. Of course.

“Oh, hello Jax! I didn’t think you would be up at this hour.” Caine tried to keep his voice down as much as he could. Pomni was still dozing peacefully in his arms.

Jax’s eyes darted to Pomni, and then back to Caine. He strutted over. “So, how’s your favorite doing?” He had a terrible grin on his face.

Caine didn’t necessarily pick up on the sarcasm. “Oh! She’s alright! Though, I must ask you to be quiet. She’s sleeping.” He explained, hoping he would just leave.

But this was Jax, and this opportunity was golden.

“Oh, is she now? That’s a shame. Oh well. Maybe tomorrow you’ll find some way to put her on a pedestal.” He sneered, more venom than usual in his voice.

“Pedestal? Now, now, Jax! I don’t have any favorites in this circus.” He gave him a scolding look. He’d wag his finger if he wasn’t so intent on holding Pomni.

“Oh, yeah! That’s right!” He said in mock surprise. “Definitely no favorites! Please. Jingles here shows up outta nowhere, and you let her skip adventures and get whatever she asks for.” He snapped, standing over the two now.

Caine sighed a bit. “I’m afraid we must talk at a later date, Jax! I really do need to bring her to her room.” He said in a tone that implied it was the end of the conversation.

Jax was quiet for a second, and Caine inwardly sighed of relief. He started to float again down the dorm hallway. How did everyone else deal with him? It was something he’d need to figure out-

“Actually! I was thinking.” Oh god, why was Jax still talking? He caught up with the two, causing Caine to stop again. Pomni was still asleep, still peaceful.

“Pomni’s pretty desperate to date you.”

Caine stopped at that. It was like those words shook him to his core.

That funny feeling he got when thinking too hard about their differences. Human. Artificial Intelligence. They could never be equal. He could never give her what she needed. She’d leave, and he’d be alone, and she’d abstract, and he’d be alone, andandand-

A whimper of pain.

Caine’s eyes widened and he gasped softly. He was gripping Pomni in his arms, too emotional and angry and insecure to realize he was doing so.

Pomni looked hurt. Her mouth was a tiny frown and she curled up a bit. He instantly softened his hold. She seemed to calm down at that.

Caine just stared. He just stared down at her face. This was supposed to be good. Supposed to be a stepping stone in their relationship. Now, she didn’t know if she’d trust him like this again.

Jax burst out laughing, his mouth opened and chest heaving. “Oh, careful now! Wouldn’t want to hurt your little jester.”

Caine took a shuddering breath. He held Pomni closer and floated down the hallway once more without a word.

That small noise of discomfort would forever lodge itself in his code. His very being. She winced in pain and he was the one to do it.

He snapped his fingers to open the door to her room. It was decorated more now, with items and lights Pomni had requested.

He floated over to the bed, laying her very gently down on the covers. He even tucked her in. He put a gloved hand on her cheek, caressing it with his thumb. She smiled and leaned into the contact.

“Don’t you worry, my dear. I’ll be what you need. I’ll make you happy.”

————————————————————————

im happy w this one! i listened to ‘Washington On Your Side’ from Hamilton and thought ab what it would be like for Jax to suspect favoritism to Pomni

Reblogs are appreciated! See u guys next time!

[sangyeonsmuse]

FALLEN ANGEL

PAIRING Preachers Son Jacob x Innocent Reader ft demon Sangyeon

WORD COUNT | 3.6k

GENRE Smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DNI Jacob likes corrupting you, Sangyeon tempting Jacob, mentions of masturbation, porn without plot, degradation, corruption, pet names like darling, mature language, vaginal fingering, oral, penetration,etc

SUMMARY Jacob isn’t the sweet angelic preachers son everyone makes him out to be. Behind closed

doors he just can’t stop thinking about corrupting you.

An old story of mine rewritten for tbz, i haven’t read through again so sorry if there are typos

“Jacob, tomorrow morning make sure that all pews are neat and each seat has a bible, along with the tithe envelopes, we’ll be having a few new families joining us today for sister leah’s baptism.” His father spoke authoritatively over the phone, having left Jacob alone while he and his mother went on their yearly anniversary vacation. Which meant it fell upon Jacob to take care of their upcoming service since they weren’t home.

“Yes father.’’ Jacob absentmindedly scribbled down all of his fathers orders on a piece of paper

Being the son of a preacher and the town's golden preacher's son meant that everything about him, the family, and its church must be perfect and in no shape or form show anything that presented them as anything other than pure. While Jacobs' father believed he had the perfect family and the most innocent and well put together son he had been completely wrong about the innocence of the man. Growing up his father had always taught him the things that were right and wrong in the eyes of all those holy within that list was the conjuring or deal making with demons or devils, like any kid he would listen and it would all go through one ear and out the other.

“What a daddy’s boy, still following all of his orders like you always did back when we were kids.’’ His mischievous voice cuts through the silence of the place like a knife.

“Sangyeon , I told you to stop showing up here.’’ Jacob sighs as he sits his phone down on the bed and continues to jot down tomorrow's preparations before the next upcoming service.

“Awe now where's the fun in that, i already own half your soul so there's really no getting rid of me unless you bind me to someone else.’’ Sangyeon chuckles as he kicks back on one of the benches with his hands behind his head.

And he was entirely right. When Jacob was younger, Sangyeon and him had been the best of friends, of course any outsider would assume the two hated one another the way they always bickered or annoyed one another. Jacob being the more calm and level headed while Sangyeon had always been the more risky and rowdy one. Well one night Jacob had gotten a call from Sangyeons mother telling him that Sangyeon was gone. Not wanting to lose his best friend Jacob took it so hard that he went against his morals and brought a spirit board home one night. He had been tampering around with things he knew nothing about and somewhere along the line without realizing he made a deal with a demon to bring back his friend. A demon that now not only owned Sangyeons soul, but part of his as well.

“Why is it that even through death and damnation you find ways to annoy me Sangyeon.’’ Jacob shakes his head as he finishes up with preparation notes.

“You’re the one that brought me back, stop acting as if you wouldn’t have missed it.’’ Sangyeon chuckles and sits up from the bench and as if on queue theres a knock on the door and Jacob makes his way downstairs being followed by Sangyeon. As he opened the door there you stood.

Sangyeon didn’t miss the way Jacobs gaze immediately took you in from head to toe and there was a sudden shift in his mood as well as the look in his eyes. Sangyeons lips immediately curled at the sides, a mischievous grin now decorating his lips as a lightbulb went off over his head.

“Well she’s cute cobie, is she the one you’re always moaning about whenever you jerk off alone in your shower.’’ Sangyeon chuckles as his tongue grazes over his fanged teeth, as you look up at Jacob your gaze was so sweet and innocent, Sangyeon couldnt help but eye you with an amused look on his face and a glint in his eyes.

Jacob gave the latter an annoyed look before looking back at you.

“What it’s not like they can see or hear me? Afraid they’ll find out innocent little Jacob isn’t so innocent and pure?’’ Sangyeon stands at his side and watches the interaction between the two of you.

“y/n what are you doing here? were we supposed to study today, did I forget?” Jacob speaks with the softest tone, it was enough to make Sangyeon laugh, having seen straight through his bullshit.

“Actually my parents thought that it would be a good idea to help you out with prep for tomorrow since your parents told them you’d be alone. And they wanted to make sure everything will go well with my sister's day tomorrow.” She gave him an innocent smile, one that Sangyeon found oh so enticing.

Your parents had been quite fond of Jacob since the moment you all first started attending his family's church. They saw him as a sweet well put together man , not to mention he and his family's faith seemed to be quite strong. Unaware of who he truly was behind the scenes they felt he would have been perfect for you. You, their sweet innocent daughter who they raised to be pure and sweet under the eyes of god, which you were. Never been to parties, never caught drinking or smoking. You were exactly what they had raised you to be, a good girl, one that Jacob who was also meant to be pure had thought of corrupting time and time again, but never put into action.

“You think she’s a virgin too? That’ll make it even more fun to corrupt her right Cobie? I bet she is a cute little virgin that's why you like her so much.’’ Sangyeon chimes in and Jacob simply ignores him, trying his best to focus on you alone.

“I see you don’t need to worry I’ll make sure your sister's day goes perfect, but i could still use the help, come in.’’ Jacob responds while leading you inside and over to the couch to have a seat.

“I have no doubt that it’ll be perfect my parents think very highly of you and your father.’’ She laughs as she takes a seat and adjusts her dress.

“Do they now? I wonder how her parents would feel if they knew the things you think of their daughter, she’s cute Cobie, seems innocent too, makes me want to play with her even more.’’ Sangyeons finger slid over your thigh sending a shiver through your body, you being entirely unaware of his presence caused you to believe it was simply just a chill.

“Sangyeon.’’ Jacob calls him through gritted teeth which only earns a laugh from Satoru.

“Just say the word and i’ll leave her alone.’’ His fingers slowly grazed the skin up your legs until he reached your skirt. As he watched as Sangyeon opened his mouth and flared his fangs Jacob could no longer stay silent.

“Sangyeon enough.’’ his voice was so loud it startled you for a second, you were even more startled to see another man appear at your side kneeling at eye level with your thighs.

“Now you’ve done it Cobie, you know the rules looks like she could see me now.’’ Sangyeon chuckles as Jacob silently curses himself for having said Sangyeons name in front of you.

“W-what? Where did you come from? Jacob?’’ Your eyes frantically move back and forth between Sangyeon and Jacob.

“This should be fun. Go on Cobie tell her about your deal.’’ Sangyeon leans against the couch behind her with a huge amused look on his face at his friend's sudden silence.

“Not gonna tell her? Alright, well angel i’m Lee Sangyeon a demon and Cobies best friend, Cobie here gave up half of his soul to a demon to bring me back when i died, but i could only come back under unfortunate circumstances, so guess you can say im his own personal demon.’’ Sangyeon ignores his now annoyed friend sitting there with a look of disapproval on his face.

“You know you really are pretty, I see why Jacob is always thinking about you.’’ he continues on, disregarding the silence between the three of them.

“Sangyeon.’’ Jacob finally glances at him, his eyes now darkening as if queueing Sangyeon to shut up.

“What? I just want to play with her a little. Don't act like you're some sweetheart wanting to protect her. Go on tell her about all those times you’ve jerked off thinking about her, about all those times you’ve had to force yourself to behave around her when she would show up to study sessions in her cute little skirts. What’s stopping me from playing with her now that she knows I'm here? What stops you from playing with her now that she knows you aren't as sweet and innocent as you look?’’ Sangyeons hand wraps around your neck earning a gasp from you as his other snakes around her waist.

“Just look at her Cobie, the way she trembles at my touch and looks to you just to save her and protect her from me. Be her savior then.’’ Sangyeon chuckles and licks a slit up your neck earning a soft whine from you that makes Jacobs cock twitch against his pants.

“She’s so believing in you being her cute little savior, sweet innocent preacher's son, save her then Jacob, live up to your title.’’ Sangyeons tone was quite menacing as he tries to talk Jacob into giving in to his desires.

“Jacob...’’ His name spills from your lips like a silent plea, you were looking for him to help you unaware that you had given him the very push he needed just by calling his name.

“Listen to how desperate she sounds calling out for you Cobie.’’ Sangyeon chuckles as he slides his fingers up your skirt and pushes his fingers past your folds.

“She’s perfectly ready for you to save her.’’ Sangyeons other hand holds your skirt up in place against your stomach revealing how tight you were wrapped around Sangyeons fingers. Seeing such a sight and hearing a cry spill from your lips, nothing else mattered to Jacob but this.

“That’s it show her the real you.’’ Sangyeons fingers moved so quickly against your clit that you had no time to refuse him.

“J- Jacob please.’’ You choke out soft pleas which Jacob simply ignored, he was done putting up his facade especially having gotten to see you in this position, legs spread wide on his own couch with his best friends fingers buried deep in your cunt.

“God your whining is so pathetic it makes me want to ruin you even further.’’ Jacob finally speaks, making you fall silent and Sangyeon laughs behind you.

You were completely taken back by Jacobs sudden change. Moving closer to the two of you he lets out a dark chuckle as he helps Sangyeon hook your panties to the side, pushing a finger through your folds he then brings it to the lips. This was the complete opposite of the Jacob you knew, the Jacob he pretended to be around you.

“How is she?’’ Sangyeons face had been close to your neck, you felt his fangs graze your neck as if warning you not to make one move. Which meant you were forced to keep your eyes on Jacob, watching the way his head falls back and he lets out a soft hum at the taste of you.

“Such a sweet girl, let’s take our time with her Yeon.’’ A desperate whine spills from your lips as Jacob buries yet another finger inside of you.

“Make sure she doesn't get too rowdy Yeon, shut her up until she learns to be silent, wouldn't want your parents to hear anything from next door now would you darling? Their good little girl being fucked by a demon and the person they think so highly of.’’ Sangyeon whispers near your ear before biting into the skin on your shoulder earning a loud scream. Your scream is swallowed up into Jacobs mouth as he takes your lips against his in a kiss.

While he had you distracted with his kiss he took a moment to unbuckle his belt and pull out his cock, he didn’t miss the soft whine that spilled out from your lips and into his as he kissed you. Grabbing hold of your hair he roughly pulls away from your lips before shoving his cock deep down your throat without warning.

“Shit.’’ he grunts out as he thrusts into your mouth the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat over and over as he disregards every gag or cry that spills from your lips as well as the tears that form in your eyes slowly falling down your beautiful face.

“Shit look at how wet she is Cobie, she likes it, how cute, corrupted little angel getting turned on while she’s being used like a fuck toy.’’ Sangyeon presses his thumb against the sensitive bud between your folds, smiling at the way your body jerked and convulsed at his touch.

“And here we were thinking you were just a good little girl that did everything her parents asked.’’ Sangyeon chuckles and watches as his friend simply went crazy showing no mercy whatsoever as he abused your throat.

“Tell me princess will you still play innocebt after this, fucking someone who isnt even your boyfriend and a demon right next door to your own home, how naughty. I guess i’ll have to continue to fuck away your innocence every time i see you from now on.’’ Jacob holds a fistfull of your hair, his grunts and moans of pleasure echoing throughout the entire house so loud he would have expected a noise complaint.

“Does this make her ours? Our personal little plaything.’’ Sangyeon chimes in cheerfully earning a glare from Jacob.

“Don’t act as if you haven't marked her already I saw you bite her Sangyeon.’’ Jacob growls and the moment he gets ready to cum he could hear a knock at the door and a chime on your phone and he was forced to stop.

With a chuckle he he places you on his lap as he takes a seat on the couch, while Sangyeon slips your phone from your purse.

“Looks like mommy and daddy are at the door sweetheart, i think i'll let them know you aren’t here at the moment.”

“Remember pretty girl, you make a sound and your entire family will know their innocent yn is just a dirty little girl that likes fucking demons.’’ Hoisting up your skirt Jacob places his hands on your ass and lifts you up gently sliding you down into his cock. After having texted your parents that you and Jacob had taken a break from studying to go out into town for food, Sangyeon places your phone down and walks over to you. Hovering over you he takes a fistfull of your hair and shoves his cock into your mouth until he completely bottoms out.

Jacobs eyes fixate on your bouncing figure as he watches your desperate movements. He found both amusement and pleasure at the way you so willingly gave in to him and Sangyeon now. his breath catching at the sight. Hearing your moans of pleasure and loud exclamations, a primal growl escapes his lips. Sangyeon tightens his grip on your hair upon feeling your cheeks hollow around his cock. As Jacob caught sight of you reaching up to stop Sangyeon from fucking into your throat he’s quick to grab your arms and force them behind your back.

“Nono angel, go ahead and take him like a good girl, i'm sure you can take it baby.” he thrusts his hips up with increasing force and speed. The sound of your bodies colliding fills the room along with the sweet sounds of your moans as if you were harmonizing, a symphony of your own pleasure and desire.

His eyes lock with Sangyeons, a mixture of lust and tenderness in his gaze. "You’re lucky to even be this close to her, enjoy yourself while it lasts Yeon" Jacob warns Sangyeon before letting out a breath, his voice filled with a mix of urgency and adoration.

His sultry voice only makes you eager to have him finish inside of you. The rotation of your hips and force of her bounces became stronger. As youre riding him so desperately your eyes catch a glimpse of Sangyeon, you immediately clench at the sight of him loving the way that his head fell back and loud groans spilled from his lips at the way your lips so skillfully sucked him off.

your gaze losing all its innocence, suddenly changing into one so lustful and sensual that it would make any man crumble at your feet. In that moment you didn’t seem to care about the consequences of your actions as you had both of them invoking unawakened pleasures within you you had never felt before that day. The more they gave in to their desires the more compliant you became, you wanted them to do whatever they wanted with you from this point forward, you'd allow them to completely destroy you however they wanted.

“Looks like you’re ready to cum already Cobie, she that good?’ Your hips rotation and skill of your tongue pulling the lewdest of moans from both parties.

Jacobs body tenses under the intensity of your movements, his breaths becoming more ragged as he nears his peak. Only thing you hated about this was the fact that you couldnt take in how beautiful he looked behind you. The sweat dripping down his neck as his hair fell loosely upon his face

He watches you, captivated by the way your hips rotate and the force of your desperate bounces. The feeling of your tightness and the way you clenched around him driving him wild with pleasure. The sound of their moans fills the confession box, a testament to the pleasure they're experiencing together.

Sangyeons eyes meet yours, his own filled with a combination of desire and a hint of dominance. His hips continue to move with a fervent rhythm as he takes control, giving in to the primal urge to dominate and see you crying at the force of his thrusts into your throat. The squelching sound from Jacob burying himself deep into your cunt intensifies the pleasure building within you.

Jacobs hand wraps around your neck, his grip tightening immediately around your throat as your body convulses with pleasure, his fingers combined with his rough thrusts earning gush after gush from you, your squirting only fueling his desire further. He watches your reactions, attuned to your every whimper and moan, while maintaining a careful balance of control and intensity. With a growl, he delivers harder thrusts, his hand still firmly wrapped around your throat, his dominance and control evident in his movements. He takes in the sight of you, the way your body trembles beneath him, your moans of pleasure echoing in the room.

"Too much, pretty girl?" he taunts, his voice laced with desire. "Or is it just enough? I want to make you lose yourself, to make you completely mine. My pretty little sinner. I'll corrupt you over and over again."

As the intensity between them reaches its peak, Jacob also continues to ravish you, the both of them taking you to the brink of ecstasy. All of your bodies move in unison, a dance of passion and pleasure, until you’d all succumb to the overwhelming release that awaited.

“Fuck look at her, shes making a mess.” Sangyeon groans as he looks down on the scene before him. You had never squirted so much in your life, actually you had never even squirted before in your life. Jacobs' couch had been completely soaked after Jacob having made you do it over and over again after seeing you do it the first time. He didn’t even care even if you begged him to let you cum. He found pleasure in edging you in ways that brought tears to your eyes and had you trembling for your release.

Sangyeon took pride in the way you gazed up at him, mouth full of his cock while drool spilled down your chin, your lip gloss a complete mess.

Upon feeling your body convulse and your trembling legs against his lap Jacob knew you were reaching your breaking point. His eyes darken with a mix of satisfaction and desire as he takes in the sight of you in such an overwhelmed state. Your body trembling, the evidence of the three of your escapades staining the couch. He relishes in the marks he's left on your skin, the hickeys adorning your skin a testament to him having corrupted you. Feeling your desperation and hearing your whimpered please, His own control begins to waver. He knows the both of you are on the edge, bodies yearning for release. With a final, powerful thrust, he pushes you both over that edge. Sangyeon is not too far behind allowing you all to release in synchronicities.

A guttural moan escapes his lips as he finds his own release, the intensity of it coursing through his veins. As you ride the waves of pleasure together, he holds you close to his chest savoring the aftermath of the encounter. THe way you lay against him so fucked out and pretty.

“From now on you’re mine, no one else looks at you or touches you, the only one allowed to corrupt your pretty little mind angel, is me.”

[foreverisntenough]

- YOU’RE MINE -

Summary: While you daydreamed about his face an ocean apart, he had no idea what yours was about to do to him. With a twist of fate and the heat of summer, a new relationship would completely ransack his heart - Everyday heavy with the thought of one another, neither of you were going to let the unexpected love of your life go. You were going to be his, you were his, and you were going to stay his.

Warnings: This series will contain fluff, suggestive, smut love bombing, little sad, and kind of angst- not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: I hope you like it! There will definitely be more parts (don’t know how many just yet though.)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

Chapter 10 - ‘You’re Mine’

You sat on your apartment floor in a pile of your clothes. What the hell do you bring to visit a boy… in another country… for an unspecified amount of time. Lingerie was the first thing in your suitcase but like… what else?

Trent had been kind enough to organize everything for you so you really only had to lock up your apartment, he had gotten everything sorted down to a car picking you up and bringing you to the airport. You had an inkling it was more likely Tyler orchestrating the logistics but Trent was the one relaying the information to you. No matter, it was incredibly thoughtful.

He had booked you a hotel suite down near the Liverpool waterfront because you had mentioned that you had liked staying near there before during previous visits to the city. It was unsaid but assumed you’d more than likely be in Trent’s bed anyways but you didn’t want to pressure him or bother him after a match day and he hadn’t wanted you to presume this was a trip solely to get his dick wet. It also occurred to both of you that Trent lived with his family. It was comforting to him, something he loved, something you actually found endearing, and as much as you got along with his brothers, throwing you into the family home seemed like a big ask.

There were a lot of uncertainties about the trip… the most glaringly obvious, the length. You and Trent both just wanted to be back together so you hadn’t really set a return date. You were off and on your way to England tomorrow. You couldn’t exactly uproot your life for a man you hadn’t known for that long, let alone explain to your family that you suddenly had struck up a whirlwind romance with the Trent Alexander-Arnold but your return to New York was still TBD.

To be honest, your dad might be thrilled at the idea of the potential access to Anfield and return to his home country but you were a daddy’s girl so moving countries might throw him for a loop. Your mom, well.. she’d miss you but you having a boyfriend, no matter the location, would just make her life complete. That was another thing… you were so excited to visit ‘your Trent’ but he wasn’t your boyfriend really so what was this to him? You had told most people who needed to know your whereabouts that you were going to England to visit a friend, you’d be going to Liverpool for a game which you had done before… purposely avoiding the details though that seeing a player was the sole reason you were being flown out. You wanted to keep it hush until it was official with him or god forbid… if it were to all fizzle out. Your head was spinning when your best friend FaceTimed you breaking the trepidation.

“Are you even going to pack clothes?” She joked before even saying hello to you.

“Rude…. I am, but honestly haven’t got a clue what yet… I want to look good but not try too hard. I wanna be hot for him but I’ll also be with his family so the lines are a little blurry.” You began to rant, panicking. You initially had asked Trent what to pack but his response was zero help.

“You look amazing in anything… but I also want you in nothing.. so” he joked, providing no assistance during a recent phone call.

Despite everything being done for you, the trip was still a little overwhelming. The plan was to fly into Manchester, Trent insisting that Tyler pick you up because he wasn’t able to get you himself because his match was that day. Tyler would drive you to your hotel, check you in, let you settle in and then he and Marcel would grab you a bit later on to head to the stadium for the game so you could see Trent. After that…not a clue what was in store but you could only imagine it would involve little to no clothing… heavily depending on if you were able to manage to stay awake after the long day.

It all sounded so seamless but after a 7 hour flight, the idea of going to a packed season opener at Anfield and attempting to look presentable after not seeing your man for over a month was stressing you out. Trent didn’t really think that this was, rather the reunion would be exciting, fun, and romantic.

“Okay, okay… I’m thinking you have to go with basics right? Like heels, boots, a sneaker, jeans, white tee, and then obviously have to bring all the gifts and shit he’s sent you..” your best friend was trying to be practical and she was right. Just simple, like your first date, hot but comfortable.

“Yeah, okay, smart. Weather is kind of weird there… like if I need a jacket… I need to think a little more. Maybe I’ll shop when I’m there when he’s busy like at training…”

“You shop? Let him shop! He’s clearly not opposed to buying you things! Also… you’re going to the north of England not a deserted island. I hope you shop when you’re there.”

“I’m not letting him do that… he’s gotta chill with the..” you stopped your own sentence “oh my god! There’s a Selfridges in Manchester… wow I totally forgot. Ugh I can’t wait for that.” You were drooling at the idea of bringing those yellow shopping bags home, forgetting the current task at hand.

“Wow, yeah… I miss that place.” Your friend also getting lost for a second.

“Fuck! Focus Y/N.” You said aloud to yourself. “I need to pack now. I’m hanging up. You’re not as helpful as I needed you to be!” You poked fun sarcastically at your friend who had actually been helpful.

“Love you! Let me know when you you take off, land, fuck him, you know the important things” she cooed cheekily.

You managed to finish packing. An incredibly heavy full suitcase that barely zipped closed and a burgundy Goyard Saint Louis tote bag stuffed full of flight essentials; passport, charger, headphones, just the usual.

You hadn’t realized until you were in line for security rereading your ticket but you were pleased when you realized you were in first class and you had access to a lounge. You texted Trent an update as if he hadn’t planned your entire itinerary for the next 24 hours.

“Text me before you take off, baby 😘” he responded.

“I will 😘 going to see you so sooon… absolutely insane”

“Getting impatient” he texted, always managing to make you smile, make you feel wanted. So you boarded the plane, tucked into your seat with a smile and a warm feeling in your chest. You picked a movie, popped in your headphones and prayed for a safe flight and the ability to get some rest during it.

While you were in transit, Trent was busy with pre-match preparations and also ultimately getting ready for your arrival. He was so excited he couldn’t sit still, pacing around his house. He hadn’t really shut up about you over the past few weeks, more often than not talking to his mum, knowing she could keep a secret. He didn’t want to over share with his friends, teammates and brothers because he was well aware how whipped he was for you and they would no doubt give him shit. That said, he didn’t exactly hide his obsession all that well.

“I’m sorry I can’t make it to the match tonight, sweetheart” Dianne sincerely apologized to Trent standing in the kitchen that morning. She had a prior commitment she couldn’t get out of unfortunately. It didn’t really bother Trent, she had seen more minutes of him on the pitch than anyone but it also meant that it would postponing your meeting.

“Mum, really it’s fine… besides I’m getting a little nervous about who's all in the box tonight.” He said anxiously.

“You shouldn’t be nervous… you invited her and she wanted to come.” Dianne knew he was referring to you being in the box.

“I know I never say this….” Trent sighed leaning his forehead against the refrigerator door. “What if I play bad and she gets like the ick.”

“The ick?” Dianne perplexed by the term.

“Yeah, like the ick…” Trent poorly and inadvertently didn’t explain so Dianne moved on.

“Trenty, it’s just another normal night.” She tried to reassure him like he was still her little boy.

“She is flying to another country… for me.” Trent said initially with some fear but his own words actually had instilled some confidence in him. You were flying to see him. You didn’t have to do this, you wanted to.

Trent had to leave to meet with the team, start the whole process of match day so he gathered all his things, said goodbye to his mum, and made his way to the driveway. He stopped in his tracks half way to his car trying to remember if he had made his bed, hoping that tonight he could convince you to come sleep with him instead of your hotel. The thought of you back in his arms had him eager for the final whistle before kick off even happened.

You woke up with about a half an hour left in your flight. By the time you gathered yourself you had landed in Manchester. You were going to text Trent but you didn’t want to bother him as it was getting closer to game time so you opted to text Tyler letting him know you had arrived. Customs wasn’t too long but you needed a few extra minutes in the bathroom to reapply some tinted moisturizer, fix your hair, spray some perfume, it was fine for now but you couldn’t wait to shower at the hotel.

“In arrival pickup, I'm refusing to hold a sign like Trent wanted so just look for my car…black Mercedes.” Tyler texted. It made you laugh, he clearly was just being a nice brother doing Trent a favor. He downplayed his car exponentially, it was a massive Mercedes G-Wagon, not exactly subtle, it was matte black with completely tinted windows. You easily spotted it and rolled your suitcase down the pavement. Tyler got out of the car, calling your name lowly. You greeted him warmly with a sweet ‘hi’ and a big hug.

“You okay? Flight was fine?” He questioned genuinely, taking your suitcase and putting it in the boot of his car.

“Yeah, yeah all good. Airports are just so stressful so thank you for handling everything. Obviously wasn’t T.” You teased and Tyler shrugged knowing that was incredibly accurate.

You opened the car door to find a little box wrapped neatly with a bow on the front seat. You picked it up to try to hand it to Tyler like it was his.

“Obviously, it’s for you. He wasn’t going to let you arrive without getting you something… be real for a minute.”

You giggled knowing it was true. Gifts were one of Trent’s love languages for sure. You shuffled around in the seat a little awkwardly at first fumbling with the box before putting it in your bag.

“Everything good?” Tyler asked, noticing as he started to pull out of the lane.

“Sorry, just haven’t driven over here in a minute, was confused for a second.” You giggled more readjusting to the roads.

“I don’t have anything comforting to say, just the way it is, the way it should be.” He teased you.

“Sure.. whatever you say.” You poked back rolling your eyes. Being American made for easy jokes.

“I told him I got you, he won’t be on his phone today really so if you don’t hear from Trent before don’t take it personally.” Tyler spoke unprompted.

“Oh… yeah? Thanks. I didn’t want to bother him. Don’t really know anything about match day protocol I guess…. I usually am a few pints in by this point.” He laughed at your honesty.

“We'll get you a drink eventually. But after… usually best bet is to let him come to us depending on the result. I know he’s embarrassingly excited to see you though so I’ll get you to him.” He said openly not taking his eyes off the road.

You arrived at the hotel and Tyler offered to help you check in but you assured him you could manage, he already had done a lot and had to come back for you in a little so you felt a little guilty taking up more of his time. He left once you gestured to him through the window you had successfully got your room key.

You got to your room and immediately collapsed on the bed not long before springing back up and practically ripping off your clothes thinking about getting airplane germs on the fresh bed. You swiftly made it to the shower immediately.

You wrapped yourself in a fluffy towel sat on the edge of the bed, trying to remember what you had planned to wear to the match tonight. You looked at your open suitcase, beauty products now covering the counter tops, the sweatshirt you wore on the plane spilling out of your Goyard when you spotted the little box Trent had left for you peaking out.

“Oh shit” you exclaimed out loud in the empty room recalling you hadn’t opened it yet. You pulled at the ribbon, unraveling the knot opening the lid to reveal a small velvet jewelry box. You popped it open to see a gold band, it was a classic ring but it had a raised block font with the letters ‘TAA’ pressed onto it. You liked how personal it was, you liked that he wanted you to wear his initials. There was a little card with his scribbled handwriting, nothing too grandiose, just simple.

‘Your TAA xx’

You slid the ring on and you felt like your heart could burst. Getting a ring from Trent caused your mind to fantasize at what other sort of ring he could eventually buy you. Calling himself yours made you smile uncontrollably too. You threw on a tank top and shorts to lay in bed for a moment telling people back home you arrived safely in England when your screen flashed with an incoming FaceTime.

“Guess where I ammmmm” you answered while sitting up a little in the bed. Your arm wrapped tightly around your chest in excitement seeing the gorgeous boys face grace the screen. Overjoyed considering Tyler’s warning you may not hear from him.

“Baby, I cannot believe you are so close right now.” Trent said beaming.

“Weird right?!” You giggled.

“You promise you’re actually coming tonight, you and Ty aren’t just messing with me?” He sounded more serious than he needed to be. You flipped your camera to face away from you showing him your dainty hand now fitted with the ring with his initials, the Liverpool waterfront visible from the window behind your fingers. Confirmation you were definitely here before turning the camera back to you.

“Promise, pretty boy!” You cooed “Cannot wait to see you tonight.”

“You cannot wait to kiss me.” He corrected you, his eyes dropping a little lower to your chest now.

“Mmm” You hummed to get his attention knowing that your tits were on display. “Don’t you have to focus, dial in?”

“I’m focused… trust me.” Trent said lustfully before snapping out of his gaze.

“I do actually have to run but just needed to make sure you got here safely.” He rambled.

“All safe” you smiled.

“If there’s a lot of stoppage time tonight, I’m going to be pissed. Need to see my baby.” He groaned

“See you tonighttt, my T” you practically sang your smile getting bigger at the thought before hanging up. You pulled yourself out of bed knowing that Tyler and Marcel would be coming to pick you up sooner than later and you had to get ready.

You went for light makeup, your hair in a middle part and down, natural. You slipped on some promiscuous lingerie inspecting how you looked in the mirror. Once you confirmed this looked like the right set for your first night back together you put on Trent’s jersey. The warm feeling returned in your chest. You were a fan before you’d ever met him but knowing this was his, from him, it just felt different and you couldn’t suppress the butterflies filling your stomach. You pulled it tucking it up into the band of your bra, a hack you did to crop the shirt showcasing your stomach.

You chose a pair of fitted leather pants, you knew your ass looked good in them. After a long internal debate you landed on a Barbour jacket, it seemed the most weather appropriate. Frankly, your shoe choice was impractical, committing your look so you went with a pair of tan suede pointed toed heeled boots. And of course, it would only be right to bring the Chanel bag Trent had got for you. You weren’t monogamous to silver or gold so you wore both metals dripping in a ton of jewelry. Grabbing your phone from the charger you double checked you had everything and stood in the mirror analyzing every aspect of your outfit but was interrupted by the unknown UK number calling your phone. You usually wouldn’t but you answered assuming, not surprised to hear a familiar scouse accent giving you shit for running behind.

“I’m sorry!! I’m coming right now” you sincerely apologized to Marcel on the other end of the phone rushing. You walked through the lobby adjusting your outfit when the lady who checked you in earlier friendly questioned you.

“Headed out to the game tonight hun?” She asked spotting you adjust the team jersey.

“Yep!” You said sweetly with a smile but trying to hurry along as to not hold up the boys any longer.

“They are a handsome lot, maybe you’ll find yourself a player to bring back.” She said quite cheekily but it was meant with good lighthearted intentions.

“Maybe…” you said smugly, slyly, little did she know your reality.

You jumped into the familiar big Mercedes back seat you were in mere hours ago.

“You’re aware it’s a footie match?” Marcel made fun of your over the top outfit. It really wasn’t, frankly, they just were in far more casual clothes.

“Yes, I do and your opinion is not important to me. I like my outfit. Thank you very much!” You quipped teasing back.

You were thankful you’d been to Anfield before because it was actually quite overwhelming arriving. You had entered in sectioned off areas but even so the two brothers weren’t exactly walking around going unnoticed at the stadium. You could feel people staring. It was loud, bustling, and being thrust into the close circle of families and friends of players had you feeling out of place. You had made your way into a box nestled high in the stadium. It actually vibrated from the fan curated atmosphere. Opposite of you, the boys were so relaxed, they looked to be completely at home, before offering you a pint as promised. Haphazardly they showed you around the suite, the seats, where things were gradually. The noise outside only grew when the team made their way onto the pitch to warm up.

Even though he was younger than you Marcel felt like he needed to keep an eye on you. He could sense your nerves so he put his hand on your shoulder gently and guided you out of the box into the open air seats overlooking the field.

“He’s number 66.” He said facetiously pointing obviously down at Trent. Your heart nearly stopped seeing him. He was actually focused on football now opposed to your tits on FaceTime earlier, striking the ball with ease, laughing a little.

He looked so beautiful. Under the floodlights, his skin was just glowing. He had aura… god, he just radiated a coolness. He was so subtly confident, so sexy. Your finger stroked over the raised letters of your new ring settling your rapid breath. You couldn’t peel your eyes away, it had been so long since you’ve seen him in the flesh and there he was but he was still so so far away.

In a moment, the crazed environment completely faded away when Trent lifted his head, inspecting the stands, combing through faces in the box till he landed on yours. That smile. Oh my god, that smile on his face had you completely falling apart inside. He sent a quick wink your way, still attempting to keep his concentration on the game. Although small, his acknowledgement calmed you feeling more comfortable, finally taking off your jacket, admittedly slightly shyly considering you were sitting with boys who shared the last name on your back.

“Uhhohh we got a fan” Tyler jeered.

“Ugh T, you’re so sexy. Please let me be a WAG” Marcel moaned in a terrible, but equally funny, American accent impersonating you.

“I hate you both” you said with no real conviction, your eyes refusing to break from watching Trent stretch, it was hot.. you couldn’t deny it.

You had relaxed, meeting a few people, drinking and laughing with his brothers, you were having fun. The starting eleven took their positions before kick off. Trent had made his way to the back right of the pitch that was closer to where you all were sat. There was a pause, a hum of anticipation for the match to begin but in the lull Trent turned to look for you once more. He found you much faster this time, pressing his hand to his lips, blowing you a kiss pointing up to you directly. You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face if you tried. It was bold, it was public, it was just for you. You were lost in the moment, looking longingly into the big brown eyes that felt miles away. You pushed your lips, pressing a kiss into the crisp air towards him. He smiled before putting his head back down to regain focus.

His brothers looked completely shocked at the interaction. Marcel’s hand gripped Tyler’s leg. They knew you two were into each other, it seemed to be serious, but never… never had they seen Trent break professionalism and do something so affectionate, not only in public, but on a massive stage. This game was at a fully packed stadium, broadcasted, spectated internationally and he without a single second of doubt was blowing a kiss to you.

The ref blew the whistle signaling the start of the match but also the start of something much more.

•

Thank you for continuing reading! DW smut will return! Let me know what you think!!!!!

Next part - Chapter 11

[its-time-to-write]

Thank you so much for the response to my request <3. the fic was better then I could have hoped!!!!

I have a new request (but feel free to focus on the story themes you were wanting to do!), I have been really wanting to see a Jamie fic where he takes care of sick reader. Could be period or illness (no preference) and Jamie has no idea how to help but tries his best. I think its a cute idea

Can't wait to read more of your fics!

Thank you so much for requesting!! Literally love when people ask me to write things. Also, apparently everyone loves a sickfic because my other one has the most notes of everything I’ve written. Anyway, here’s your fic!

there’s orange juice in the kitchen

You are not sure of much, but you know one thing: you’re in pain. It’s 2am, and you’ve gotten a grand total of two hours of sleep. You’ve given up on laying in your bed and have filled up your bath with hot water, bubbles, and bath salts. Lots of bath salts. Your abdomen feels like it’s shredding itself and you suppose, technically speaking, it is. You’re just relieved that tomorrow is the weekend and you don’t have to slog through a work day, white-knuckling these absolutely ripping period cramps. 

You don’t have regular periods like, ever, and your doctor’s concerned about your fertility. You remember waving it off with the statement, “That’s a problem for another day.” Thing is, that was just a cop-out. You didn’t want to think about it for a single second because then it would become real, and you make it a personal point never to complain about a period no matter how brutal it is because at least it’s something and never mind that your last one was four months ago, you’re ok. You have a good life and good people and you’re fine. 

It’s just the principle, you know? The desire of choice. 

The hormones don’t help either. 

But anyway, you’re in your tiny bath trying to soothe the pain you’re in, trying to make yourself tired enough to fall asleep once you get out. You breathe, in, out. In, out. 

You’re up till 6am when you finally doze off. 

—

You wake up in a sweaty haze. You’re in soft pants and a large t-shirt, on top of your sheets rather than in them. You reach for your phone then pull your legs in with a sharp gasp. You’re still in pain. 

It subsides so you reach again and check the time. 9:01. You groan. Three hours of dubious sleep is not enough. You have a missed text from Sam (remind me which brand of kitchenware you use?) two missed texts from Keeley (look at this absolutely adorable puppy! Attached: 1 Image), and a missed call from Jamie. 

Ah, right. Jamie. 

Your boyfriend. 

Who you were supposed to meet for breakfast exactly sixteen minutes ago. 

Shit. 

You call him back and he answers on the first ring. 

“Hey love!” he says. “You alright? Not like you to miss breakfast.”

You grimace. “I uh, I wasn’t feeling well last night and I haven’t slept very good. I forgot to text you. Didn’t fall asleep until 6.”

“A.M.?” Jamie asks and you reply to the affirmative. He lets out a long “shiiit,” followed by a, “how contagious are you?”

“For you? Not very,” you say. “For another girl, incredibly contagious, although some say that’s an old wive’s tale.”

Jamie is silent in confusion, then- “Ohh, I get it! You’re not sick-sick, you’re on your fucking period.”

You chuckle, despite remaining curled up on your side. 

“Yes,” you reply, “My fucking period. I feel nauseous and tired and I am bleeding so. Much. It’s like my body’s making up for the last four months of nothing.”

Jamie’s silent for a moment and you internally cringe, kicking yourself for over sharing. You haven’t been together that long, about a month and a half, and he doesn’t need to know that about you. He’s a famous footballer, after all, and a guy’s guy. Probably gets grossed out about periods and stuff. 

Then he says, “Can I come over? I’ll bring food,” and your worries almost completely evaporate. 

“As long as you don’t care about how disgusting I am or the fact that I hurt a lot, sure,” you say. “I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

—

Jamie’s at your flat in 40 minutes, which is fast considering how much food he walks in with. He’s brought a bag of Chinese takeout, plus two overflowing grocery bags. 

“This is for now, these are for later,” he explains. He’s in a pink sweatshirt with matching shorts and socks, and maybe it’s the damned hormones again but he looks hot. His hair is pushed back with a headband and you want him to fuck you. You don’t think you can convince him, though, what with the blood. And the fact that he’s Jamie fucking Tartt. And that he probably doesn’t do shit like that because it’s gross. 

Your brain whispers, but he’s here, isn’t he? so you just push that thought down to live with other scary ones like, I will never have kids, or I’m going to live with this pain for the rest of my life.

Jamie is oblivious to this, just pulling everything out of the bags and chattering on. He’s kicked off his trainers near the door, and he hasn’t made any comments about the fact that you’ve wrapped a blanket around your shoulders like a shroud, or that your hair is in the messiest bun in the history of the world. Not the sexy, reader-insert fan fiction type of messy bun, either. Just an I-did-not-get-anywhere-NEAR-enough-sleep-last-night messy bun. 

“-and me mum always drank orange juice, swore it helped with bloating or hydration or somethin’, I don’t really know, but I got some of that too and this tea that’s supposed to help with cramps, and also a shit-ton of chocolate because I didn’t know which kind was your favorite. I was thinking we can sit on the couch and watch a movie or play Animal Crossing or some shit while eating the takeout, then I can cook you a proper fucking meal later. Coach always says it’s important to have a balanced meal when you’re under the weather, and I think it applies to this too.” He stops when he notices you just looking at him. “You alright, babe?”

“Yeah, I just- why did you get all this?” you blurt out. 

For the first time since you’ve known him, Jamie looks unsure of himself. “I dunno. I mean, I do know. You didn’t sound great over the phone, and Keeley’s always telling me to fucking listen to other people, and me mum was always the same on her period so I used to get her the things she wanted all the time. And-” he takes a breath, “and I picked up on what you said. The fuckin’ four-months shit. That ain’t good babe. Even I know that. And, we haven’t been together that long, but I’m pretty fucking sure you know that too, and I wanted to let you know I’m sorry.”

You’re momentarily fixed on the way he says certain words. Keeleh. Sorreh. It’s sweet, for some reason, and it causes a dull ache in your chest. You realize what he’s actually said to you and that ache deepens. You’d kiss him if you weren’t sure your breath was gross. 

So instead, you settle for nodding and staring at your kitchen wall. That’s because option one is kissing and option two is crying. You can’t do either right now.

A traitor tear slips out your eye anyway, and you hope Jamie won’t see it. He does. 

“Hey, hey.” He comes around the counter and pulls you into a hug, blanket shroud, messy bun, and all. “Love. It’s alright. It’s alright. You’re not alone, and we’re going to go sit on the couch and eat as much food as we can and then pass out, alright? We’re not going to think about anything else except what’s right in fuckin’ front of us.”

“That was,” you sniff, “weirdly philosophical. And very sweet. And I’m sorry for being disgusting.”

Jamie pulls away from you, and you think this is the first time he’s realized how gross you are. 

“Don’t say that shit, babe,” he says, and you laugh before you realize he isn’t joking. 

“I’m serious,” he continues. “You might feel disgusting, but you aren’t. You smell like fucking lavender, for Christ’s sake. Your pajamas are clean, and so’s your hair. Might be fuckin’ messy right now, but me mum also taught me to braid, so it’s nothing that can’t be fixed.”

You pull him back against you and let some more tears come out. 

“Why are you being so nice,” you ask, voice muffled through his sweatshirt. 

“Oh, dunno,” he replies, hint of a smile in his voice, “Think you’re fit. I like shower sex. You pick.” He pauses. “Maybe both. Heard that it can help with cramps.”

You laugh wetly into his chest. He’s warm and comforting, and so completely not what you expected him to be. You both stand in the kitchen for another minute, his cheek resting on your head before he says, “Oi, you hungry?”

“God, yes,” you say, “I could eat a fucking horse.”

“Good.” Jamie picks up the bulging bag of takeout and a roll of paper towels. “Lead the way, babe.”

—

It’s not until much later, after you’ve eaten, watched a movie, and showered (and all that implies) that you realize you’re finally tired. Finally calm. You let yourself relax on your bed in Jamie’s arms, breathing in his clean smell. In, out. In, out. By the third breath, you’re asleep. 

[seriesxwriting]

Hey was wondering if i could have a Damon request.

it's the reader She gets into a bad accident and damon comes to help her and won't leave her side when he takes her back to the Salvatore mansion and lays near her and declares that he loves her once she’s woken up.

You can easily change or add bits

I love this request, thank you! I hope you enjoy the read and it’s just as you pictured it <3

Damon and y/n sitting in a tree.

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬- 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠- 𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲- 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧’𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐲, 𝐮𝐩𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞. 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐡, 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨. 𝐇𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞’𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬- 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐡, 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐲, 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝.

- 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐰 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧, 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐱

“Leave me alone Damon” I roll my eyes walking away from the house and towards my car. “Y/n i didn’t mean it like that” “okay but that’s how it sounded” I took a deep breath getting pretty annoyed he was carrying it on. “Y/n can you just stop and come back inside?” He sighed and stopped walking. “Nope I’m off to flirt with the other half of the town that I haven’t got to yet” I saluted him, still with my back in his direction. “Why do you even care who I flirt with Damon?” I frowned, knitting my eyebrows together.

There was only one answer that could get me to walk back towards him and into the house. Because I’m in love with you “I- don’t” Damon called out. Wrong answer.

So I continued walking to my car. He vamp ran and ended up in front of my door. “It was a joke” “it wasn’t funny” I folded my arms. “I’m sorry” he told me straight, staring into my eyes with his perfect blue ones. He didn’t need any powers to compel me, they were compelling enough. “Please come back inside” “I’m going home Damon” I told him pulling my car door open and moving him aside. “I can’t do anything else apart from apologise” he sighed holding the door open so i couldn’t close it.

“You can sit and think about why I’ve gone home and when I see you tomorrow you’ll know not to make a joke like that again” I slammed the door closed, hoping he’d move his fingers in time before they were smooshed in the frame. He did. He rolled his head to the side pretty much pouting at me. But I only saw it out the corner of my eye because I was starting my car and driving off. The joke played in my head over and over again while I was driving back. “You do flirt with half the town”

My mind should have been focused on the road because if it had been I would have see the deer that ran out in front of me. And if I had i wouldn’t have swerved so late. And if I hadn’t swerved so late i wouldn’t have had a head on crash with a white transit van on the others side of the road.

I blinked in the bright sunlight when my eyes opened next. I must have closed them when I hit the van because I don’t remember rolling down the side of the road and into a tree. My windows had all been smashed and some shards of the glass had gotten into my skin. My foot was stuck under the break and had twisted. As well as the fact i couldn’t pull my seat belt off me as everything was fuzzy and it felt like i was moving in slow motion. Everything was spinning so I must have hit my head pretty hard too. A panic alert went off in my brain but my body wasn’t doing what my brain was telling it.

In that moment my door ripped off the hinges and Damon’s panicked face was all I could see. My body relaxed and I knew I was safe, and over the moon to see him. Though i couldn’t have shown him that emotion in that moment. The sense of safety allowed me to close my eyes and let Damon do the rest of the work.

Damon’s pov-

Of course I followed her car. She was pissed off with me of course she had a lot on her mind, and a possibility of an accident played on my mind. So I followed her, just to make sure she’d get home okay. I cared for her more than anyone will be able to ever understand. But I couldn’t stop the accident. Not in time. It all happened so quickly and the next thing I know her car was rolling into a tree. So I tried to do the next best thing. The guy she hit tried to start an argument with me as soon as I turned up on the scene to help her.

My worry must have been radiating off of me for him to see that I knew her, personally. But that didn’t matter to me and neither did he. Those words of anger were the last words he ever said. The way he spoke about her the words he called her. His body will never be found. I could have left him alive but she would be at fault for the accident and it wasn’t hers. It was mine. He was the only witness, so after I’d quickly dealt with him I rushed to her car. Trying to stop my iced heart from pounding out of my chest.

When I pulled her out the car she’d fallen unconscious again. But I heard her heartbeat so I knew she was okay. Not that she looked it, she was bruised and cut but yet was still the most breathtaking human or vampire or werewolf or fucking fairy I’d ever seen. I clutched her into my chest knowing she’d be safer at home. So that’s where I took her, as quickly as I could. I’d never vamp ran so fast in my life, I didn’t realise I could go any faster until this emergency. I took her straight to my room ignoring all of Stefans barking questions.

Your pov

“Damon? What the hell happened” Stefan stopped in the doorframe with a wide jaw, evidently in shock. “She hit a van” he muttered laying me down on his bed. “Give her your blood? Why are you hesitating?” “No” Damon shook his head. “She’d never forgive me, she’ll be okay she just needs to heal the human way” Damon shook his head. “Why are you being so stubborn- you’re never like this?” “Because this life isn’t for everyone Stefan! She’s made it clear to me I’m not to use my blood to heal her and we are going to respect that” he shouted back at his brother.

This was the first time he’s given Stefan eye contact since he’d come inside. Stefans face softened seeing how upset his brother was. He came over slowly gazing at my unconscious body. Throwing Damon under his arm he sighed “you need to tell her when she wakes up” Stefan whispered. The eldest brother grunted but after a second he sighed and nodded his head. “Yeah I know I do- I might lose her”.

“you won’t brother” Stefan shook his head patting Damon on the back before departing. “Where are you going?” “I’ll get some tweezers, water and a cloth so we can get the glass out and clean the wounds” Stefan smiled sympathetically. “Can you also bring up the drip?” “I was thinking that- but we aren’t sure of her blood type” Stefan shook his head eyeing me up from the door frame again. “She’s o negative, we have that in the basement” Damon shrugged unfazed. But that comment alone made Stefan grin, in fact he chuckled at his brother.

He noticed how much Damon paid attention. “I bet you couldn’t even tell me your blood type” Stefan giggled before walking off. Damon blinked away the confusion of whatever Stefan was on about and crawled onto the bed by my side. He took my hand in his and sighed gently with his head on the pillow next to mine. “I’m so sorry” he whispered kissing my hand gently. “I promise I’m not going anywhere until I know you’re okay, like really okay” he softly spoke. Seconds before Stefan entered juggling all the things to help me.

The brothers hooked me up to the drip so I’d get enough blood back into my system. As well as picking out the glass from my wounds and sewing up any cuts too deep. They stuck a few plasters and bandages on me to cover any chance of infection and then stood back to look at their handy work. “Thank you” Damon looked to his brother. “Damon it’s y/n- you don’t need to thank me” he smiled and nodded at his big brother. “Call me when she wakes up”.

And with that Damon resumed his place next to me. Just lying there most of the time. Sometimes talking to me though I couldn’t answer. He didn’t leave my side once the whole time I was out.

When I eventually opened my eyes to find Damon next to me I was confused. I gasped thinking I knew what he had done but I looked down at my arms seeing a drip and seeing stitching. “Y/n…” he whispered, I slowly turned my head to him. “You let me heal the human way” I knitted my eyebrows together. “You told me to” he answered sitting up and putting another pillow behind me so I could too. “I didn’t think you’d listen…” I looked at the drip seeing ‘o negative’ on the blood bag. “Or remember my blood type”.

“People underestimate me” he shrugged with a small smirk. “It’s not that I just- didn’t think you were paying much attention to me or what I said…” “you’re the only person I pay attention to” he shook his head looking down at his knees. “Damon- how’d you find me?” I asked reaching out for his hand holding it to my chest. “I um- was following you- not to continue anything just to make sure you got home okay- and I’m glad I did” he chewed on his lip looking anywhere but at my eyes.

“I’m sorry I was so petty, I know it was a joke it’s just… i wouldn’t ever do that I don’t flirt with anyone” “I know I know- i shouldn’t have said it I feel guilty enough” he shook his head vigorously looking ashamed of himself. “I forgive you I don’t want you to feel guilty anymore” I replied with a smile. “Thank you” he answered finally looking into my eyes. “So you took me back here- oh my god- the guy I hit is he okay?” I jumped up forgetting I was in so much pain. Damon could see it in my face i regretted doing that.

“Lay down y/n- he won’t trouble you, don’t worry about him” he brushed his thumb over my hand. I turned onto my side looking up at him, still holding his hand. The man was gorgeous, I didn’t understand how he could make all the other boys in the world look unattractive. “How long have you been here?” I whispered gently, hoping he was okay, he seemed completely off as if he was sad or something was on his mind.

“Since I brought you here- I was worried I just- I couldn’t leave you” he kitted his brows together looking at our tied hands. “And you are in my room” he smirked cracking a joke which was much more normal for him. “Thank you- for everything you done for me” I whispered squeezing his hand and earning a glance from him. “You don’t need to thank me y/n id do it over and over and over again” he replied in a softer voice. “Damon what’s wrong- somethings on your mind”.

“I need to talk to you, I’ve been putting it off for a long time now- I was worried when I saw the crash that I’d never get the chance to tell you and that broke my heart, I realise now that i shouldn’t waste opportunities because life is so unpredictable” he admitted with tears in his eyes. “I was so worried I’d never see you smile again y/n… I hated watching that happen to you- it could have killed you and to know that was partly my fault I…” “…Damon it wasn’t your fault, I chose to drive, I hit the van you had nothing to do with it” i abruptly butted in.

“Blame me y/n” “but it’s not your fault” I sat up now facing him scooting over to him slightly more. “Don’t blame yourself- I’m okay aren’t I? Thanks to you” I whispered threading my fingers through his. He looked into my eyes and whispered “I love you”. My eyes widened at the words he’d just said and my heart pounded against my chest. Butterflies had managed to fly down my throat leaving it dry and they landed in my stomach. “W-what do you mean by that?” I asked just to doubled check that i had the green to smash my face into his.

“I’m in love with you” he repeated in the exact same whisper as if he didn’t want me to hear it. But that’s all I needed. I raced towards his lips with mine putting one hand on the back of his head to guide him. Damon was evidently shocked at first but he very quickly realised what was going on and passionately kissed me back raising his hand to my cheek. It felt like he’d been waiting a long time to do this, it felt as if he’d played this happening over and over in his head. But thats exactly what I was thinking myself.

Damon pulled away to look at me but left his hand there. I slid mine down to his neck brushing my thumb against his soft skin. “I love you too Damon- I don’t want half the town” I giggled as my eyes filled with tears of joy. “I just want you”. “You- surprise me more everyday y/n” he whispered with a smile. “I’m glad you didn’t wait any longer to tell me” I giggled puting my forehead against his. “Oh me too, me too” he replied brushing my hair with his hand gently.

“Damon and y/n sitting in a tree, k-I-s-s-I-n-g” Stefan sang as he filtered into the room with a big grin. I laughed out, my mouth hurt from smiling so much at this point. “Mature” Damon rolled his eyes smirking. “Happy?” Stefan raised his eyebrow at his brother. “More than I’ve ever been” Damon nodded back, again making my smile and show all my teeth.

I was happy too.

Masterlist

All series masterlist

The vampire diaries masterlist

Damon Salvatore masterlist

[scrubbinn]

Slime HRT: ??? Months “Your choice”

“There you are! I was getting worried, your directions were awful for finding this café.”

“We both know I suck at directions, hope you didn't get rained on too much. Sorry for making you visit me over and over. I remember you said you’re not a fan of Hyper city”

“You know I like the rain, and this place makes it easier to visit you anyway. Now lemme just get the seat closer to you…

So how are you hun. Is the recovery going alright? Have you gotten any memories back?”

“A couple, yeah. I remember the name of that other slime I met a while ago. Sandy I think.”

“You think?”

“Memories are hard, please don't push me.”

“Sorry. Well it's good that you're healing, and you're not taking that stuff again right? 

… right hun?!”

“I'm not, I'm not. Tomorrow is the last day I have to wait before I can legally take it again. Right now I'm just wondering if I should wait longer or not.”

“Don't do anything that isn't safe hun. I know this means a lot to you, I can't say I know what you're going through, cause I'm not a therian or otherkin or whatever like you. But please be safe, I don't like worrying about you… What's that on your phone? You're clearly hiding it.”

“It's nothing, I'm just running a poll, I want to see what the internet would do in my circumstance.”

“Hun!…”

“I'm not going to make my decision based on what random people have to say. I'm probably not even going to post it. I mean it's a pretty cool, textbook grey choice. Survive less happy than I could have been, or risk everything to finally feel normal and free… Please don't look at me like that.”

“You sound a lot happier about one of those choices hun, and it makes me scared.”

“...Y'know I've actually been thinking about moving into Hyper city. Roommates are ok with it as long as I give them a few months to search for a new place. We could also visit each other whenever. There's still a lot of problems here, but it still feels like there's less discrimination here than back home. I even have a good idea for what I want to do here! I'm studying to become a psychiatrist and work for Dr. Erian. He could really use someone who has a positive amount of bedside manners. There's a couple other doctors there but-

“I thought the plan was for us to live together?”

“...We will, when things get better back home. At least here it's easier for us to see each other, and I don't have to pretend I can't hear people whispering I'm a freak. At least, not as much. Nothing's changed long term.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes I’m sure, you don’t have to worry, everything is going to be fine. I’m not going to do anything stupid, but I don’t think it would be a bad thing if I started my HRT again after tomorrow. I know I can regain my memories slowly, so there shouldn’t be a problem.”

“There is a problem! You think it’s fine if you forget everything? Look, it's great that some of your memories are back, but that doesn’t mean all of them are gonna come back. You’re being reckless again. Your life isn’t something you can keep tossing around without expecting us to hold you down. Hun, you need to stop hurting yourself.”

“...I’m not hurting myself. I’m just trying to live my life. I don’t want to upset you, but you have to realize this is the most important thing for me right now. If I mess this up, then nothing is going to go well. I understand that you’re scared, but please think about how I feel. I’d be having heart palpitations if that were still possible. This choice needs a clear head to figure out. I don’t think either of us have that.”

“Maybe. You’re going to be fine right? You won’t die from this or anything right?”

“No, I’m not going to die. The doc made sure it’s going to be safe at this point. We just have to hope he’s wrong about the side effects, and before you go saying he’s a trained endocrinologist, you haven’t met him, and I don’t even think he knows all that much. Trust me, you’d realize what I mean if you met him.”

“But he knows more than you do hun.”

“Ok, yeah, but it’s clear this is still all new to him too. He’s never been right about when any of the changes will happen or what the side effects would be. He made me sign an NDA about slipping into a three day coma. He’s clearly more afraid his medical license will be revoked than any actual permanent damage he’ll inflict."

“Aren’t you breaking that NDA right now?”

“I don’t have to listen to that. Besides, as long as the internet doesn’t hear about it, then it’s fine. It's not like you're gonna shout this conversation to the rooftops… don't actually tell anyone else, I'd rather not get in trouble again.”

“So, where are you staying anyway? You said the houses here are pretty expensive right? Do you have enough savings to find a place?”

“There's a non-profit place called T.H.E.M.S, they can find me a place to stay while I try to find a more permanent residence here. They have an on-site doctor too, so you don't have to worry even harder now.”

“Hey, you can't fault me for worrying about my girlfriend! That's good there's going to be a doctor nearby. I'm glad. Stay safe hun.”

“I will, don't worry. Now come on, less talking about depressing medical stuff, more pictures of tiny foods! Right now I want to show you the cute cupcakes this place has!

“Oh they’re shaped like little dragons!”

“It's so cute, right?”

...

Click… Post sent!

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Mention list: @a-shramp , @calliecwrites

Thanks for reading slime HRT so far. It's been so much fun for Navi to write and we hope you enjoy it. This marks about a third of what we plan to do. If you're confused about the terms Hyper city or T.H.E.M.S you can check out information about them. Pretty important since this is gonna be the location for the rest of the series. Anyway, thank you for reading. It means the world to us. bye-bye!

-Sweetheart💖

[gay-wh0re-slut]

Hi! Can you write some angst + NSFW ending with the prompt

“You think I wanted this to happen? You think I, of all people, wanted to fall in love with you? This is why I knew I shouldn’t have gotten close to you.”

oooohohohohooo this is a good oneeee

idk if i can think of a way of ending with this but maybe somewhere in the beginning or middle/end ish? i hope that’s alright? it’ll still be angsty tho don’t worryyyy (i hope) hehe but thank you for the request!!

after writing: i kinda broke up what you wanted to be said and added a few things, i hope that’s okay

Please

content: rhea ripley x fem reader, angst, NSFW but pretty vanilla unfortch :/ sorry friends

Working backstage at WWE has its perks: getting to talk with the superstars, seeing how everything is put up and taken down, getting to go behind the scenes of the show; but it also has its downsides. You’re up late at night after the show taking everything down, cleaning up after everyone, making sure everything is put back in its place in the trucks to move to the next city. You’re always tired because of the schedule they have you on. Very rarely do you get time for yourself so you haven’t even thought of trying to have any kind of relationship.

Lately, you’ve been a bit on edge. Is it the lack of sleep? Probably. Is it the crush you have on THE Rhea Ripley when you swore to yourself you would never date a coworker? Most likely.

You’ve never voiced that you had this, but a lot of your coworkers have told you multiple times that you suck at hiding it. The way you stumble your words around her, or how your face gets red when she’s brought up in conversation, or how you refuse to talk to or about her in case of messing everything up. You’ve never had a crush last this long and it was eating you alive. It was hard to work sometimes because you would just stare, she was so captivating.

Unfortunately, one day the goth wrestler caught you staring and decided it would be a good idea to talk to you. “Hey, (y/n), you alright?”

“Huh?” your face became red, “oh yeah sorry, got caught in a daze.”

“Don’t apologize, I can tell you’re tired,” she sounded so caring, this was not helping your case, “they work you all too hard back here.”

You nervously laugh it off, “yeah, but that’s show biz.”

“Tell me about it,” she sighs, “You sure you’re okay?”

“Oh, psshh! Yeah totally,” you wave her pity away landing your hands on your hips.

“I know I’m scary looking but I’m always here if you want to talk. I know how it can be, trust me,” she takes out her phone, “let me get your number in case you want to chat.”

Oh god, oh fuck.

“Y-yeah for sure,” you hesitate grabbing the phone. You shake as you type your number in, you see that she already has your name typed out with the bubbles emoji next to it. “Why the bubbles?”

“You’re always bubbly,” she says casually with a small smile.

“Right,” you smile as you hand back the phone, “thank you.”

“For what?”

“Checking up on me.”

“Us tired people gotta stay together,” she laughs, “I’ll see ya around, yeah?”

“I’ll be here!” You give her a weak thumbs up as you watch her walk away.

“God,” you groan as you begin to fan yourself. You got nervously hot trying to muster up any sort of coherent sentence. Hopefully you didn’t sound too weird, you kinda blacked out for a second. “My number?!” you whisper to yourself, “that’s crazy.”

You could barely think about anything else the rest of the day constantly checking your phone to see if she texted you. Luckily, nothing happened. You were relieved when you went to the hotel that night and saw that she hadn’t texted you because that meant you couldn’t mess it up. You kept telling yourself that this was a silly crush that will go away soon…but you’ve said that for the past three months.

You didn’t realize the time until you heard your phone ding at 2:43am.

hey, it’s rhea

Of course her texts are all lowercase. You lay staring at the screen. Do you answer? Do you lie tomorrow and say that you actually fell asleep?

hey! what’s up

You decide to text back, what’s the use in lying, you thought.

i knew you’d be awake

you caught me

these hotel beds aren’t the best for people who can’t sleep huh

idk mine’s pretty comfy

Was that flirting? You weren’t sure, but hopefully she didn’t take it that way. The last thing you need is for her to start having a crush on you.

damn, you’re lucky. maybe i should come sleep with you then haha

Oh no, what do I say? Yes? Is she joking? Surely she’s just joking…fuck.

if i’m lucky again, maybe the next hotel we can share a room

Oh yeah good save…totally not flirting.

sounds like a plan

good. well i’m going to try to sleep hopefully

me too, we both have a long travel day tomorrow

goodnight ripley

sleep well (y/n)

You’ve only just realized that you’ve been cheesing at your phone this whole interaction. She’s taken over your entire being.

It was now 3:15am and you had a flight at 7:30am, so you might as well just lay there with your eyes closed in hopes of getting some sort of rest.

The week has passed, it was Monday again. Though the show starts at seven at night, crew had to be there at ten in the morning to make sure everything was ready before the stars showed up at two. You and Rhea hadn’t texted much, just some hello’s here and there with a few how’s your day’s, though she was on your mind constantly.

As the time drew closer and closer for the australian to walk through the door, you avoided that door at all costs. You tried to do anything to get you away from her path to her dressing room. Sweeping, wiping, snacking, literally anything.

“How’s the bed?” her accent flew threw the air behind you.

“W-what?” you turn around quickly.

She meets your gaze and stops a few feet in front of you with her little booty shorts and big tshirt, no makeup with her beefy arms crossed, “did you get lucky?”

You widen your eyes as you were taken aback, trying to process what she just said for a good few seconds before you realize what she was talking about, “oh!” you sigh in relief, “sorry! Yeah, no, got the lumpiest in the whole building probably,” you chuckle.

“Damn, seems like we switched sides this time around-,” she smirked.

You cut her off before anything else could happen, “Ha! I guess so,” you take a carrot from the snack table and chomp down, “I- uh… gotta go mop… th-the back hallway, see you later!” you lied. You basically ran away from her. You’ve already mopped that hallway… twice. Something about her in the shorts and tshirt made you so nervous.

Time went on, the show went on, the audience left, and luckily you’ve avoided the buff goth the whole night successfully.

“Hey, (y/n), Rhea’s looking for you. She’s in her room,” one of the PA’s said, nervously, “she seems a bit upset.”

Oh no, was all you could think. Repeating it in your head with every step, getting louder and louder, until you finally reached her door. You take a long deep breath before knocking lightly.

“It’s open,” she yelled through the wood.

So you walk in, closing the door behind you, you stand right behind the threshold not wanting to go any closer. She was already back in her tshirt, but this time she was wearing sweatpants. Her makeup was still on though with her hair rough with sweat.

“Are you avoiding me?” she asked bluntly.

“No,” you answer a little too quickly.

“You sure? Cause it sure does seem like it,” her arms crossed with anger.

“I’m pretty sure,” you lie again.

“Then why haven’t I seen you all day?” she sneaks closer to you.

“I’ve been…working, it was busy today,” you step back.

“You just so happened to be extra busy today,” she stood wide in front of you, basically pushing you against the door.

You couldn’t think, she was so close you could smell the faint cologne she put on earlier that was left on the shirt. You settle for a small nod, holding your breath, hoping she would take that as an answer.

She didn’t, “I don’t believe you,” she growled.

“Well, I-”

“What? You think you can be friendly one day and the next you just completely ignore me?” she threw her hands up in surrender before landing them on her hips.

Your heart was beating a million miles a minute, you could barely breathe, “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t thin-”

“Yeah, you didn’t think. You didn’t think how I would feel, did you?” she stepped back a little as she turned away from you shaking her head.

You didn’t dare say anything.

A few moments passed of her staring at the wall with her jaw clenched and you plastered to the door deciding whether or not to make a run for it.

She dropped her chin to her chest with a big sigh, “look,” she started calmly, which was scarier than earlier somehow, “being me,” she gestured towards herself turning back to you, “it’s hard to make friends, so when you were one of the only people that were nice to me I thought we had something going.”

“Rhea…” you drop your guard, but only a little.

“Please,” she held her hand up and you shut your mouth immediately. “I try so hard to be nice to everyone. I’ve been betrayed so many times it’s hard to let the walls down.”

Now you’re the one stepping towards her in hopes of creating some sort of comfort.

“I don’t want to be let down again,” she admits.

“I understand,” you whisper.

She didn’t take the comfort, “How could you? Everyone loves you! I’ve never seen you not make a friend. You’re so nice and caring,” her voice raised again. “So when you didn’t talk to me all day, I knew it was something I did. And I can’t bare to have another ‘friend’, ” she air quoted, “leave me because of…me.”

Your heart sank at her words. You did think of her as a friend except you wanted her to be more than a friend, which was the problem. You scoured your brain thinking of something to say that would make her feel better, until it clicked.

“You think I wanted this to happen?” you finally say.

“What?” she barks.

“I like you, Rhea, a little too much actually,” your heart was beating indescribably fast.

She just stared in surprise.

“You think I, of all people, wanted to fall in love with you?”

“In lov-” she began to question.

“This is why I knew I shouldn’t have gotten close to you. I would’ve gotten too close and I was afraid that you wouldn’t love me back,” you finally admit with a sigh. Your eyes begin to form tears but you try your best to suck them back in.

The purple eyeshadow blinks. Without a second thought, she rushed towards you grabbing your face, pulling you in for a deep kiss. After a few seconds, you push her away. Piercing blue eyes were just as surprised as yours as if she didn’t know she was going to do that either.

Still holding your jaw, “I- I’m sorry. I shouldn’t hav-”

You pull her back in by her waist to kiss her once more. Your lips moving gracefully against hers. You knew the black lipstick was smearing, but you couldn’t care less. She gently walked you backwards towards the door with a small push to pin you against it. One of her hands found its way to your back pulling you in as close as possible. Heavy breaths filled the room as lips continued to dance.

Her hand sneaked its way to the button of your pants, “can I…” she panted.

You nod your head, “mhmm,” you whine, as you go back to kissing her.

She swiftly undoes the button and sneaks her hand in, but not in your underwear. She was gently caressing your center, when small moans fell out of you. Her free hand grabbed your neck and tilted your head to the side to allow her to kiss your neck, leaving black marks as she went.

“Is this okay?” the accent whispered.

“Yess,” you breathe, “do whatever…you want to me.”

“Oh?” she kisses up your neck between words, “how about…I just… give you a taste… of what could happen…then later…I’ll show you…what I can really do,” by now her pace has quickened and the familiar knot in your stomach is quickly being untangled.

You could only nod your head in response, not wanting to moan too loud in fear of someone hearing you from the other side of the door. Your lips catch hers once more as you whine into her mouth.

It didn’t take long for you to almost come undone. Your hips were slightly riding her hand as she moved perfectly against you, “that’s it, love, don’t hold back,” she held your neck a little harder than gentle, secure against the door.

The oxygen left your lungs and the knot finally loosened as you slammed your head against the door. “Fuuuck,” you moan. Your legs were weakening by the second as she tried her best to hold you up. You scratched your way down her back as she chuckled in your ear at the slight pain.

As you came back to earth, your lips met hers a few more times before she removed her hand and buttoned your pants back up for you.

She let you catch your breath still holding you against the door but her hands were now at your waist with most of her body flush with yours. “Now, do you want me to come to your room or you come to mine?”

“I thought you had the nice bed this time,” you breathe.

“Oh yeah,” she smirked knowing what the answer was already, “my room it is then. See you there,” she kissed you once more before removing herself from you. She grabs her bags and gestures towards the door.

You open the door and let her through, following behind her. “I’ll meet you at the hotel, I have to grab my stuff,” you walk the opposite way.

“Don’t take too long, or we’ll be up all night,” she winked towards you.

“See you soon, Ripley.”