#i’m so full of love i feel like i could fall over and die happily

[killsaki]

honestly there’s nothing more encouraging to me than when people enjoy my original creations. YES ! i love that i am able to enjoy anime fandom + sexy fics with you guys. i love writing them (obviously. i’ve been doing it three years now) but i just. am so happy people like fuzen. and kiyoshi. and (begrudgingly) katsumi.

[healmydesires]

nasty (j.m)

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

summary: On a hot summer morning, you wake up with Joel’s mouth between your thighs.

genre: smut with a bit of fluff. kinda pure filth… sorry (18+ mdni)

word count: 4,2k

tags/warnings: established relationship, age gap (reader is in her late 20’s, joel is in his early 50’s although it isn’t really mentioned), soft!joel, soft!dom joel, sub!reader, dom/sub dynamic, somnophilia (consented, but it isn’t mentioned), lots of pet names, reader is described as shorter than joel, unprotected sex, piv sex, vaginal fingering, oral (f!receiving), joel has high key an oral fixation, pleasure!dom joel, doggy, hairpulling, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, size kink, daddy kink, praise kink, creampie, heavy on the breeding kink, joel has a big dick.

a/n: the title is inspired by ariana grande’s song nasty. also in my brain this is in the same universe as “forever in your eyes”. this is truly… a huge fantasy of mine so, this is another super self indulgent piece. I hope you enjoy! <3

pls joel miller… one chance 🥺 [begs]

ao3

The sun is bright and warm on a summer morning, light slipping through the partially open blinds, warming up the bedroom. Your body slowly wakes up from its slumber, a moan falling from your lips as you register the feel of a wet tongue lapping at your slit.

Your cheeks heat up as you realise the position you’re in. You’re on your tummy, your hips are slightly tilted upwards as Joel’s tongue licks your pussy from behind like a man starved. You whimper loudly as your pussy clenches around nothing as you feel him circle the tip of his tongue around your tight wet hole. You still feel a bit sore from last night’s activities. As Joel was making you cum on his tongue for hours before he even made love to you.

“Ah, Joel!” You mewl pathetically.

“Good morning baby girl.” He groans against your heat.

You grip the bed sheets between your fingers as you slowly rut your hips against his mouth. Your core is beyond soaked, dripping underneath you onto his mouth and sheets. You were truly desperate and full of want, you needed some more relief.

“You’re dripping for me kitten,” Joel grunts as he slowly moves his fingers to your wetness, tracing your slit slowly with admiration as you try to buck your hips against his face and fingers, begging for more. “So needy for me.”

Your eyes slide shut and you whine, as he leans down to wrap his lips around your button at the same time he pushes two of his thick fingers inside your pussy.

A broken moan spills from your lips as he moves his fingers and tongue simultaneously.

This is heaven. You could literally die happily right now.

His tongue, moving slowly against your clit, as his fingers continue to fuck inside you. The wet squelching sounds makes Joel moan into your clit, causing vibrations that make your body tremble and shake. He curls his fingers against your most sensitive spot inside you, making you grind your hips against him once again.

Your walls hug every surface and ridge of his thick fingers, the sensation making your toes curl. Joel’s mouth lavishes your pussy with his tongue while he moans every now and then against you. Your hips continue to move against his face, picking up your pace gradually. Your head reels with pleasure once his tongue presses down on your needy aching clit.

“F-fuck, J-Joel, I’m so so so close. Pleeeaaaase.” You whimper begging for more.

Joel sucks at your clit while he curls his fingers into you. He eventually sucks harder on your clit, still occasionally swirling his tongue around your little button while moving his fingers inside you faster.

You’re a mess of his name, you chant Joel’s name over and over again. Eyes are squeezing shut to the point of tears, overwhelmed as he continues to pleasure you in one of the best ways he can.

You let out a moan more akin to a scream as he scissors his fingers inside your pussy at the same time he sucks your clit into his mouth. With the second hard suck on your throbbing clit, you cum with a loud moan. You feel your vision turning white as your whole body writhes beneath him.

He laps at your release happily, licking your pussy lips slowly until you’re whining from the overstimulation.

“I’ll never get tired of how sweet you taste baby,” he groans against you. “I could eat this little pussy for days.” You feel him press soft kisses to your trembling thighs, his beard tickling your skin.

“Please Joel… I need you.” You whine desperately.

“What do you need sweetheart?” He says as he presses another kiss to your skin.

“Fuck me, please. I need you to fuck me.” You wiggle your hips impatiently.

“Anythin’ for you princess.” He chuckles as he grips your hips to flip you over but you quickly swat his hands away with a whine. “Sweetheart?”

“I wanna try something else this morning…”

Every damn day, you’ve been begging for him to fuck you from behind. And every time he would find excuses not to do so. He keeps telling you that he doesn’t want to hurt you. You know how big his cock is, you’re more than aware of that. But you simply don’t care, you want him to fuck you in the most filthy way possible. To stretch your tiny hole, filling you up so deliciously. You’ve been dreaming of him fucking you from behind for so long, you need it so much.

“Baby, we talked about this. You need to be patient.” Joel whispers as he caresses your hips in a soothing manner.

“Joel… I’ve been patient.”

“Sweetheart—”

“I need you. Just, pleaseeee. Please, I need it so bad. I need to be filled with your thick cock. Need you to fuck me from behind so bad. I just crave it so much. I want you to breed this little hole you love so much… Please your kitten needs it so ba—” your begging gets cut off by a high pitched whimper leaving your lips as Joel’s mouth dives back between your thighs.

Licking a long stripe along your slit, coaxing a loud, broken moan out of you. Joel’s hands grip your hips, keeping you in place as he laps at you furiously. You writhe against his lips, whining and pleading for more.

He encircles your clit and sucks, pulling whimpering pleas from your mouth. It’s heavenly addicting, the way Joel’s tongue slips between your folds and dips into you, working you closer and closer to your release within each passing second.

His hands move to your ass, kneading the two cheeks as he lets you grind your hips back against his face. Sweet little noises of ecstasy leave your lips as he continues to lick and suck at your pussy.

You shudder as his lips wrap around your throbbing clit again, sucking lightly. You cry out as you feel yourself get closer to your second high of the morning. You squeeze your eyes shut as you pick up your pace, unable to handle the unbearable pleasure you’re experiencing as the coil in your stomach is about to snap.

You mewl loudly as Joel plunges his tongue inside your pussy. Massaging your inner walls, driving you insane. He sucks and licks with fervour.

“Joel, please, I’m close, fuck fuck fuck,” You stutter out a loud cry.

He increases his pace, tongue thrusting inside your pulsing hole rapidly. Your body’s temperature is rising as you move your hips, fucking his tongue.

“P-please.” You moan, your voice sounding so broken.

“Come for me kitten.” He groans against your pussy before plunging back his tongue inside you, bringing his thumb to your clit applying pressure. You come with a loud whine, your vision turning white and your ears ringing as your whole body racks with such intense pleasure, you almost thought it might make you pass out.

Gasping out his name, you grasp the sheets in your hands at the intense pleasure. Your pussy keeps clenching around his tongue as he continues to pleasure you. Your hips are stuttering until the final waves of aftershock have passed. Gently, he laps at your release until the overstimulation is getting too much.

His hands caress your ass fondly as he pulls his mouth away from your throbbing heat.

“You did so well angel, you’re always so good to me. Such a good girl. I can never get enough of how good you taste.” He murmurs.

You whimper at both the oversensitivity and his words. As you’re trembling and coming down from your high he moves to press wet kisses all the way up towards your neck. Your whimpers, whines and moans don’t stop as he spoils your body with his touch and his affection.

“I love you so much sweet girl.” Joel whispers as he nuzzles his head between your neck and your shoulder.

You feel yourself melting underneath him at his words, touch and kisses, “I love you too.” Joel presses open mouthed kisses against your neck, shoulders and jaw. Leaving you a whimpering mess. You’re wiggling your hips against him, situating his hard length between your ass cheeks. Joel’s hands come to grab your hips with a loud groan.

As you continue to squirm under him, his cock slides against your pussy. The action makes both of you moan and your body trembles with anticipation, hoping he would finally enter you from behind. You feel your inner walls clenching around nothing as you move your hips against his, grinding your wetness against his massive cock, the tip nudging your clit or entrance every now and then.

It turns slick as you keep grinding yourself against him, and he has no trouble gliding his hips against you and rutting his cock against your entrance. He groans as he moves his body against yours, leaving you breathless. You feel your pussy pulse and continue to squeeze around nothing, practically begging for his cock.

His body is covering your whole body with his own. Joel nuzzles your neck as he continues to litter your skin with his kisses. You writhe against him, wishing he was just pushing his cock in you already and filling you up in the best way.

Joel reaches down and grasps himself to line up between your lips and slide. He is rubbing the tip firmly over your swollen clit and your mind is all over the place.

“F-fuck, Joel please. I can’t do this anymore, I just need you so bad. My pussy needs you. It needs to be filled with your cock and cum. Please d-daddy. Fill this little hole up, breed this pussy. Daddy please—”

At your words Joel growls, grasps your hips and tilts them more and pushes your legs further apart. He moves to circle his tip around your entrance, pulling more desperate whines from your lips. You’re squirming, wiggling your hips, trying to push back against him but he has such a strong hold on you, making it hard for you to move too much.

“Be a good girl and be patient.” He groans against your ear.

“P-please Daddy—”

A broken gasp leaves your lips as he finally slides the tip inside you. You feel his body moving behind you, sitting up against you, and you know his eyes are on your pussy. He’s watching as your walls spread to begin to wrap around him. You whimper at the new angle as you try to accommodate his girth. He can barely get more of it in your tight walls at first, eventually using more force to open you up for him. It feels like you are being torn open, split in half.

“D-d-daddy…” you stutter and mewl.

“I know baby girl, I know.” Joel moans as he gradually slides more of his thickness inside you and you tremble more underneath him. Your pulsing walls are wrapped tightly around his cock, as your pussy pulls him in more. The pressure of his massive dick deep within your walls overwhelms you while you clutch the sheets below you in tight fists.

“Ah, daddy… you’re so big.” You whimper.

“You take me so well kitten. Doing so good for daddy.” He moans as he leans down to press a soft kiss against your cheek, as he keeps pushing more of his girth in you slowly. You feel so full already and you know he’s barely halfway in.

“So full…”

“I know my sweet girl, I know. You’re doing so well, soon you’ll be filled with all of daddy’s cock.”

The whines and whimpers and moans keep spilling from your lips as Joel continues to push deeper and deeper. Your hands continue to grip the sheets between your fingers as he penetrates your tight walls.

“Please daddy… more. I can take it.” You whine as you squirm underneath him.

He groans at your desperate whines, losing his composure momentarily as he thrusts the rest of his length all the way inside your heat. The head of his cock touching your cervix once he bottoms out. A scream leaves your mouth as you’re trembling underneath him, you try to adjust to his size while your pussy keeps clenching around his cock. You push your head into the pillows as pathetic whimpers keep falling from your lips.

“Fuck, so fuckin’ tight.” Joel hisses.

You moan and squeeze around his cock at his words, leaving him panting above you. Both of his hands move to grab at your ass cheeks, kneading them slowly and gently.

“Please d-daddy. I need more.”

“Fuck, baby girl, you look so beautiful like this, taking me all the way… like the good girl you are.” He can’t control the words that leave his lips as his hips move, quickly pulling himself almost all the way out of your pussy, making you whine at the empty feeling. “Such a needy pussy.” Joel groans before he thrusts himself all the way inside your cunt again.

“Ah ah fuck, daddy… oh my god—” you hiccup as he moves his hips slowly but hard against you. You cry out as he thrusts so deep inside you that it has your body slumping against the bed. Your pussy continues to pulse and squeeze around his thick cock, as it tries to adjust to its girth still.

You moan loudly, arching your back and pressing your ass up against him, and he grabs your asscheeks, keeping the angle perfect as he starts rolling his hips deeply into you. You feel his cock throbbing inside you as you tighten around him. He’s so deep, hitting your cervix repeatedly making your eyes roll back in your head.

“F-fuck baby, you’re so hot like this.” Joel slowly picks up his pace at the sight of you throwing your head back. “You’re all mine, isn’t that right baby girl?”

“Ah, y-yes yes yes, I’m all yours. P-Pleeaaase f-fuuuck, I need m-mo—” you’re begging and you’re unable to finish your sentence as he gives you a particular hard thrust.

You almost feel your arms giving out on you because of the force of his thrusts. Joel’s hands are clawing at the sides of your hips, guiding you with him, and he leans down again to place kisses on your upper back, his kisses travel down your spine, until he leans back up and just looks at you from behind.

Your mind goes blank as all you can do is focus on the feel of him stretching you, filling you up, so overwhelmed with bliss already. He thrusts deeper inside you, earning whines and moans as you continue to cry out his name. You try to tell him, breathlessly, about how good he is making you feel.

The sound of your pleasure fuels his desire to fuck you better, urging him to do more.

Joel picks up his pace, thrusting into you quicker, harder, hitting the spot that has your body going numb.

You claw at the sheets, burying your face into the pillow to muffle your screams. The air is all stuffy around you as his hips move faster, moaning you try to push back your hips against his to take more of his big cock. Your tiny pussy is so full of him, still trying to accommodate his thickness as it pulses and tightens around him. Joel moans at the sight, kneading your ass as he tries to bury himself more inside you, his tip hitting your cervix instantly. Your eyes roll back inside your head once again as you dig your fingers more into the bed, you mewl against the sheets at the overwhelming pleasure he’s giving you.

Hair is sticking at the nape of your neck and back, and Joel leans closer to brush it away but instead he grabs and tugs slightly on it, at the same time he thrusts harder and faster. You whine loudly as the angle makes him hit your sensitive spot inside you. You’re literally going insane, it feels so overwhelming and good.

Your noises become louder and higher pitched as he continues his assault on your pussy, indicating that you’re getting closer as well as the sounds of your pussy that keep meeting his cock over and over again. The sounds mix along with your desperate cries. “Your pussy is so tight and wet around me, begging me to fill you up in other ways… begging for my cum.” He groans as he thrusts harder.

“God, daddy-daddy please. Fuck I—”

You whine as your eyes roll back inside your head.

“What do you want, kitten?” He groans while one of his hands reach around you to slip against your clit making you writhe against him as he applies pressure. The pleasure has the tension tightening in the pit of your stomach, dying for your release.

“Oh, m-my goood… please J-j-d-daddy, h-harder, faster p-p-pleaaseee.” You squeak out in between moans. The wet noises of him easing into you over and over has your cheeks burning, realising just how wet and needy you are for him.

Joel buries his face in the crook of your neck, picking up his pace again, fucking you so fast and hard that you swore you never moaned so loud in your life. Suddenly, everything was becoming too much: the pressure against your clit, his grunts, the sticky, sweaty feeling, his scent, his warmth, the drilling of his cock inside you. Just everything. You try to catch your breath but from how Joel is thrusting inside you and the rubbing against your clit it feels almost impossible to do so.

“I-it feels s-soo— F-fuck, I-I, daddyyyy—”

“Does that feel good, sweet girl?” He asks as he leans down his body closer to yours making him hit your cervix repeatedly. You whimper and tremble underneath him as you nod, he moans against your ear as he whispers close to you. “Does it feel good? That I’m fucking you like this? Just the way you wanted it.”

“Yes! I-it feels sooooo gooood, Joeeel—” you whine as he continues to hit your sensitive spots inside you. Joel’s fingers continue to press down on your little nub making you squirm. The tension continues to build up as the pleasure is becoming too overwhelming.

Joel snaps his hips into you again and again, thrusting deep, causing you to see stars from knowing just how to pleasure you. Feeling like your head is swimming once again, you whine. “I’m sooo so close, p-please…” you beg desperately. You only need one more little push, a little bit more attention to reach your peak.

You are crying out for him, your moans almost sounding like his name, and he moves his head down again and presses kisses down your neck.

“Come for me kitten…” he whispers against your ear.

“Ah—”

His hips never slow down as he massages your clit. And then the coil in your lower tummy snaps, your eyes rolling back into your head while you arch your back as your world dissolves into pure ecstasy. You can’t stop yourself from shaking as you come against him. You almost black out because of the intensity of your orgasm, trembling like crazy. You whimper as the overstimulation is getting to you.

“Daddy wants to fill you up, baby girl.” He groans as his pace is becoming erratic, with less finesse as he charges towards his own finish line. “Going to fuck a my cum into you, kitten. Get you nice and full…”

Your walls pulse and become tighter around him as he continues to hit your cervix. He groans as his movements become more sloppy. Loud mewls leave your lips as he finally spills his seed inside you, coating each inch of you with a warmth that pools deep inside you.

“Ah...” you whimper underneath him as your body continues to shake.

Joel exhales deeply as he feels himself come down from his high. He gently pulls out of your tiny spent hole, making you whimper at the loss and you feel his eyes on you, knowing that he’s watching his seed drool out of you. Your pussy continues to clench repeatedly around nothing and he feels himself harden again at the sight.

You’re still trying to catch your breath as you whine every now and then. He moves off the bed, making his way to the bathroom to get a warm, wet cloth and returns to your legs to clean you carefully. Once he’s done he comes back into bed, wrapping his arms around you instantly.

You feel his face nuzzling in the crook of your neck. You tighten the hold you have around him, holding him close, pressing a soft kiss on the top of his head.

“That was truly amazing Joel… thank you.” You whisper against his hair before you hear him chuckle, his body shaking as he laughs softly.

“Any time baby. You know I’d do anythin’ for ya.” He says before bringing his head towards yours, leaning down once again to capture your lips in a soft kiss.

“I love you.” You whisper as you pull away to look at him tenderly while your fingers trace his face, his beard fondly.

“I love you too, sweetheart. So much.” He whispers back as he leans down to kiss your lips. The kiss is like velvet against yours, and there’s no hurry when he tilts his head a millimetre to fit against you better. His lips are so soft, swollen from all the kisses you’ve shared. His mouth moves, delicate and slow. He kisses you like he has all the time in the world.

His mouth moves slowly from your lips to the rest of your face, littering your skin full with them. “You did so well for me, such a good girl for me,” he whispers as he places soft kisses against your temples. Your cheeks burn at his sweet words. He leans down to capture your lips in another kiss. Kissing each other languidly for a while before you feel him trace your thighs with his fingers. You pull away and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“What?” He chuckles, playing coy and tries not to laugh as you shake your head with mock annoyance.

“I know what you are thinking.” You squint your eyes at him suspiciously.

“And what am I thinking?” He asks playfully, staring you down as he tries to stifle a grin.

“Well, I don’t even have to say what you’re thinking, I already feel you getting hard again mister.” You say with a playful smile as you poke his chest. He quickly grabs your hand, bringing it up to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly. Butterflies erupt in your stomach at the action.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He whispers against your hand, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“Right… of course you don’t.” You roll your eyes at him playfully.

You yelp as you feel him pinch your ass. “Don’t be a brat.” He grabs your ass in his hands, bringing you closer against him as you whimper, making him chuckle at your reaction. “You know that I’ll always want you.”

Heat rises to your cheeks at his words. “Me too.” You whisper as you bite your lips with a smile.

His eyes twinkle deviously as he squeezes your cheeks in his hands. “I could wear you out even more than I did last night.” Joel says cheekily, winking as a smirk plays on his lips.

“Joel!” You give him a playful push as your cheeks heat up at his words. Joel laughs before wrapping his arms around you, puckering his lips while making kissy noises and littering your face with kisses which makes you giggle and squirm against him. Joel’s grip tightens around you as he continues to kiss you all over your face playfully.

“I know you love it baby girl, don’t try to deny it.” He whispers before leaning his head down to kiss your neck, you squeak and continue to squirm against him.

“What if I say I don’t?” You taunt teasingly, cocking your head to the side.

“Then you’re a terrible liar.” He says looking all smug before his lips nip at your jawline.

Your giggles turn to breathy whimpers the more he kisses and licks your neck. You feel yourself lose easily in his kisses and touches, your body turning to mush instantly.

“I’ve been very nice, very good to you… Maybe you’d love to cum around me again?” He smiles as he looks down at you deviously as you gasp, giving him a playful push again.

“Joel!!” You squeal before he holds your body close to his, swallowing your noises as he kisses you deeply. Both of your laughs turn into breathy moans as you both continue to touch each other.

The morning continues like this, your fingers wandering all over each other, giving each other kisses all over as the pleasure between you two doesn’t stop. The day is filled with love and desire for one another, you will never get tired of loving that man.

He’s your heaven.

[mooooonnnzz]

The Lamp Is Low // Neteyam x gn!reader

💙 You and Neteyam’s relationship headcannons 

the title has no correlation to the story 

had nothing else to call it so i named it after a song i was listening to while making this LMFAO

reader is gender neutral AS ALWAYYSS

neteyam is addicted to readers kisses fr

did not proofread I APOLOGIZE FOR MISTAKES

1k words

ALSO MY REQUESTS R OPEN RN SEND REQUEST (would love to see sum neteyam requests and some for lo’ak AND KIRI TOO NEED MORE KIRI CONTENT)

you kiss neteyam way too much

at least thats what lo’ak says, but how could you not?? 

neteyam had such a kissable face, how could you resist?

neteyam loves it though. 

the feeling of your feathery kisses littering his face made his heart full. he literally begs u for more kisses, like he can’t get enough 

♡ Your soft lips pressed against his forehead then his cheeks. “Be safe, Neteyam.” You placed one last kiss on his lips, a parting gift to take with him as he trains with his father. Neteyam’s tail wagged happily behind him, smiling brightly at you. “One more?” He asked. You shook your head affectionately and kissed his lips once more. “One more and I’ll go.” Neteyam said, closing his eyes and leaning closer to your face. “Neteyam.” You scolded playfully. You couldn’t ignore his request so you did as told, you gave Neteyam the kiss he was practically begging for. You patted his chest with your hand, pushing him away from you. “Okay, now go!” Neteyam stayed rooted in his place, a bashful smile on his face. “One more kiss?” 

my man is always deprived of your kisses he needs ur lips constantly on his face or he dies 

he has told u this once, like he was so fr he was like

♡ “You have to give me another kiss or I die.” He said randomly after you gave him a kiss on his lips. You furrowed your brows in confusion. “You are going to die?” You repeat slowly, watching how Neteyam nods his head vigorously, like if he nodded any slower he was going to be knocked out dead. You weren’t going to give in and give him that kiss. He’s had enough of them, any more you’re sure your lips would fall off. “You don’t have enough time Neteyam, you must go.” You say. Neteyam looks at you then suddenly gasps dramatically, his hand slapping against his chest. “I think I’m dying!” He rasped out, flopping his body against yours. You just stared at him, looking at him unamused. He opened one eye and then the other, huffing out, he whispered. “You are supposed to kiss me to bring me back to life.” You puckered out your lips, eyes narrowing as you pretended to think about what Neteyam just said. “I don’t think I will.” You said. Now this time, Neteyam’s gasp was real. He shot up and he genuinely looked so hurt.  “What? How could y–” You shut him with a kiss. You separated and you pushed him away. “You better not come back!” You say. “I make no promises!” 

you patch neteyam up whenever he comes back injured from whatever he was doing 

he sometimes gets hurt on purpose so he could feel your fingers graze his skin 

lo’ak had witnessed neteyam “accidently trip” on the roots of the trees just so he could have a scraped knee

its actually so embarrassing 

♡ “Bro, you are not fooling anyone.” Lo’ak said, crossing his arms over his chest. Neteyam got up from the floor, brushing the dirt and grime that stuck to his legs. “I’m fooling y/n, though.” 

is he though?? 

♡ “For Ewya’s sake, do you fight with your eyes closed?!” You gently pat down one of Neteyam’s gashes on his back dry. “How do you manage to come home everyday with a new injury?” Dipping your two fingers in the healing paste you cultivated earlier while the boys were out, you delicately glided the ointment along Neteyam’s wounds. His ears flickered, a hiss left his lips. “That hurts!” He said through clenched teeth. “Oh, so now you are complaining about the pain?” 

okay at first, he did fool you but after a few times of him coming back with a bleeding leg or arm, you figured he was doing it on purpose 

whenever Neteyam has a rough day or has been chewed out by his dad, he always comes to you to be at peace

you tend to rebraid his hair while adding more beads to his collection

he has said that it helps calm him down 

you also message his head he absolutely LOVES IT

♡ Your fingers intricately worked with each strand of Neteyam’s hair. Crossing the strands over each other, you woven each strand into a braid. Digging your fingers into the bowl full of beads, you plucked a few out, ornamenting each braid with a bead of their own. “How have you been?” You ask, fingers gliding down his newly done braid. A satisfied smile was pulled onto your lips, fingers rolling the stray bead that you had found on the grassy floor. “The best I can be.” Neteyam vaguely responded. You knew he wasn’t telling you the truth, he wasn’t the best at lying. You dropped the bead back into the bowl with a sigh. Throughout the whole time you have been braiding his hair, Neteyam has been cold and quiet. Only uttering a few words to you when needed. A stark contrast from how he usually acts. You threaded your fingers through his hair. “How was the hunt with your father?” You watch as Neteyam’s body physically tenses at the mention of his hunt. “Nothing out of the ordinary.” He lies straight through his teeth, his fingers anxiously wrapping themselves around the grass. “Neteyam.” You sternly said. You got up and moved around him, sitting right in front of him. “I know when you lie.” You tell him, narrowing your eyes at him. He shrinks under your intimidating gaze, his tail flicking nervously behind him. Neteyam sighed out and finally allowed himself to open himself up. He began to explain how his father blew up on him during a hunt, how he yelled at him for not getting his aim right after various corrections from his father. After he ended his rant, you offered him a piece of your advice and what you thought about the situation. You helped him regulate his emotions and calm down. Neteyam had visibly relaxed and his mood perked up after you and him talked about it. He laid his head down on your lap. Wordlessly, you tangled your fingers in his hair and pressed the tips of them on his skull. You slowly messaged his head, fingers skillfully moving from the next point onto the next. Neteyam sighed, closing his eyes. With you by his side, he could overcome anything. 

if you wanna be in my taglist comment or dm me! <3 + my requests are open!

Taglist: @writingsbybirdie @tzurue @lokisblueskin @slaypussypop-21​

[madsnic1119]

Idk I’m having thots need them out (fem reader) I didn’t proof read this💀 aftercare at the end

He bent you over the counter, flipping you skirt up and pushing your panties to the side- too impatient to take them off. You hear him unzip his pants and undo his belt. He comes up behind you, slowly tracing your outer lips. He breaks the seal and slips his finger up to your clit

“OH-“ you say out of surprise not expecting him to press on your clit so suddenly

“I know baby- feels good huh?”

You nod not being able to form words with the pleasure he’s giving you. He presses and circles your clit a few more times. He pulls his fingers back a little to press them into you.

He slowly slips on finger in, all the way to his first knuckle. You clench around his finger- which is much larger than yours.

“Mmm”

“Can feel ya clenching around me love- fuck I can’t wait to fuck you” he grunts out

He pushes his one finger in and out a few times, slowly adding a second. Taking his time to stretch you out. No matter how many times you two have sex he makes sure to stretch you out as to not hurt you

“Please- please just fuck me” you pant “I need it so badly”

“I know bunny, but I need to stretch you out. Can’t hurt you- don’t want to hurt you my love” he says pressing a kiss to the back of your head after

He fingers you for a few more moments. Finally pulling his fingers out. You hear him hum and the sound of his fingers popping out of his mouth

“Fucking delicious love, could die happily eating you”

He pulls his cock from his pants. He presses the tip to your hole. You whimper wanting him to just push it in

“Shshshshhhh I know know baby- fuck” he says slowly pushing into you

You drop your head down to the counter, not having the strength to hold it up on your own

“Fuck bun you’re so tight, fuck will never get used to you pussy” he moans out

He finally bottoms out. Making sure he doesn’t hit your cervix (let’s be honest that probably hurts slamming into it). He pulls out slowly

He builds up a slow but mean full pace

“Mmmm harder- please faster. I need it so badly. Been waiting like a good girl. I promise I’m a good girl”

“I know baby- such a good girl for me” he says starting to go faster like you asked

He grabs your hips and pulls you up to his hips- making you level with him. As he does he starts hitting your G spot

You moan loudly

“Theeeeree it is- I found it” he chuckles out hitting your spot over and over again

“Such a good bunny for me” he groans after

He thrusts in and out of you as hard as he can while making sure to not hurt you. He keeps hitting that spot

His thrusts go sloppy, nearing his orgasm. He bands down- his head right next to yours. He circles your clit

“Ohhhh fuck- fuck fuck fuck fuck- I-nmmmmnahh” you moan out

“I know baby- cum for me. Cover me in your cum bunny please” he begs

He keeps thrusting into you- going faster. You drop your jaw in a silent scream, cumming all over his cock. Closing your eyes and dropping your head back next to his

He oants into your heart- groaning at how good you feel. Useless babbles into your ear. He thrusts two more times frowning loudly finally hitting his orgasm. He pulls out and watches his cum fall out of you, down your thighs

He swipes his fingers in it before it hits your new thigh highs- not wanting to upset you with staining them. He pushes his fingers in your mouth

“Good girl”

He pulls you up gently. Making sure you’re steady. You tuck your head under his chin/ into his chest while wrapping your arms around him. Both of you still panting

“I love you” you whisper

“I love you too” he says kissing the top of your head. He takes you to the bathroom and cleans you up. Helping you change into pjs- doing so for himself after. You both climb into bed, quickly falling asleep

The end. Idk what this is but I was having thoughts and needed them out lmfao. Imma tag this as multiple characters as I never said the name

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

The Naughty Nanny Chapter 5

Summary:  Bucky had a lovechild from a one night stand.  He barely even remembered it, and was surprised to find a baby on his doorstep 9 months later.  But one look at that little girl and he knew she was his and that he’d die for her.  The only problem was, he knew nothing about babies, and being an Avenger meant he couldn’t just drop everything and be a dad full time.  Then he found the perfect nanny…or so he thought.

**In this universe Steve never left, Tony never died.** **curvy reader** Warnings: talk of sexual harassment, unwanted/non-consensual touching/sexual assault, eventual smut

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The next few weeks were like clockwork.  Bucky felt well-rested and lighter than he had in years as Y/N helped with Winnie.  Y/N quickly became another part of the Avengers family, her calm and inviting demeanor making the others feel comfortable being open with her.  She was bright and outgoing, often spouting one-liners that had the entire group doubled over laughing.  Bucky could feel himself getting in dangerous territory with her as he naturally got closer to her as friends, building an emotional and at times physical connection with her.  He reveled in the moments he’d muster up the courage and give her a side hug that she happily reciprocated, a lingering touch between their hands, when she would fall asleep on his shoulder as they watched a movie with Winnie, or be close to her as they both played with Winnie.  If he didn’t know any better he would think that she copied his stare, catching her looking away from him hurriedly every once in a while.  He didn’t want to push it, but was finding it more difficult as time went on.

“Hey Buck?”  Y/N asked him one day.

“Yeah?” 

“Um…I’m sorry to do this but, I need next Saturday night off,” Y/N said hesitantly.

“Oh, okay.  That should be fine.  May I ask why?” he said, his eyes narrowing.

“I’m helping out a friend with something,” Y/N said, clearly not wanting to give him any details.

“Okay, yeah I can handle my kid for one night,” Bucky smirked at her.

“Psh, you sure?” Y/N teased him.

Bucky rolled his eyes.  Their playful banter had become second nature to them by now and he secretly loved it.  “Yes.  Jesus, how little faith you have in me.”

Y/N shoved his arm playfully.

***

“We go next Saturday,” Steve announced to the room.

“Next Saturday?” Bucky asked incredulously.  “I can’t, Y/N’s gonna be out that night.  Who will watch Winnie?”

“I can,” Pepper piped up.  

“Good,” Steve continued.  “We’ll go in as patrons.  Scott will take a look around while we observe the club and Kingpin’s guys.  He won’t be there, he’s scheduled to be out of the country until next Sunday,” Steve continued rattling off the mission plan.  Bucky’s unease didn’t let up.  Something about this seemed off, he just couldn’t put his finger on it.

The next Saturday Y/N had already left earlier in the day and Pepper was watching Winnie as Bucky got dressed.  They were going to a fancy burlesque club downtown and they needed to look like they belonged.  He wore a faux skin over his metal hand to make it look like regular flesh and an all-black outfit that was much tighter than the t-shirts and sweats he enjoyed.  Steve and Scott met him downstairs, Steve dressed in a similar sharp outfit and his beard growing in, making him slightly less recognizable, and Scott in his Antman outfit so he could get tiny and spy all over the club quickly.  They were looking for intel on weapons manufacturers that Kingpin was working with to deliver some previously-thought-lost alien weaponry into New York.

They arrived at the club at about 11:15 p.m. and were ushered into the VIP section, courtesy of Tony making a call ahead of time.  Scott was buzzing around somewhere as Steve and Bucky ordered drinks and observed the club around them.  Nothing seemed too out of the ordinary, the regular set up of Kingpin’s men there as bouncers and security.  

“Guys, he’s here,” Scott’s voice sounded panicked through the earpieces.

“What?” Steve said, his brow furrowing, but otherwise keeping a straight face.

“A whole caravan of cars just pulled up, it’s him with his entourage.  Looks like about 15 more men with him.”

“Why would he come back early?” Bucky asked, his eyes sweeping across the venue slowly.  Just then Kingpin and his group entered.  He was freakishly tall, bald, and burly, a mountain of a man compared to his bodyguards.  He was dressed in the most expensive materials, his pearly white veneers glowing eerily between his lips, large rings on his fingers.  “Typical,” Bucky sighed heavily as he watched him cross the club to his own VIP section that was front and center to the stage.  

“Tell me about it,” Steve scoffed.  Just then the announcer came overhead.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a special guest for you tonight.  Back for one night only, give a warm welcome to the one, the only, Big Booty Baby!”

Kingpin stood and clapped, his eyes trained on the stage territorially.  Bucky and Steve shared a knowing look before looking toward the stage, noting how much the crowd was clapping excitedly as well.  The curtain pulled back as the music started, a bright pink light outlining the body of the dancer who was posed with her back to the audience.  She was plus size, thus the name, but it wasn’t until the spotlight came on and she turned her head to her profile that Bucky’s mouth dropped open.  Steve looked at him strangely then took another look at the dancer and his eyes bulged.  It was Y/N.

“Did y’all miss me?” she asked in a sultry tone, her voice being picked up by the microphone hanging over her head.  The crowd cheered, whooping and hollering.  She giggled then turned and posed again, looking out over the audience.  The song picked up and she started to sway and move, dancing while lip syncing the lyrics to “Fever,” a song Bucky actually recognized.  He squirmed in his seat as he watched her slowly pull off her glove.

“Um…did you know she was going to be here?” Steve breathed.

“No,” Bucky seethed.  He was angry.  Not necessarily at her, or that she didn’t tell him she would be “helping a friend” at the burlesque club, but that she was here in a dangerous situation with the likes of Kingpin.  If he wasn’t already invested in this mission and ending this man, he definitely was now.  Especially as he saw Kingpin watch her hungrily, whispering to his men next to him who all chuckled darkly with him.  “We need to get her out of here, Steve.”

“I know,” Steve said, looking around for quick exit points and options.

“I found the jackpot,” Scott’s voice crackled through.  “I’m collecting it all now and I can meet you outside in 10 minutes.”

“Something came up, Scott.  Take what you have and go back to the compound.  We’ll meet you there,” Steve instructed lowly.  Scott agreed and disconnected.  “What’s the play, Buck?”

“I’ll buy a private dance.  You find an exit point and get the car ready and we’ll get out of here,” Bucky said, his metal hand creaking slightly as he made a fist when she stripped off another layer of clothing.  Steve gestured to one of the waiters, asking to buy a private dance with her for his friend.

“Oh, I’m sorry sir, but he’ll have to wait till after Mr. Fisk has his dance,” she said sweetly.  “But we can get another girl for you?”

“No, just her, uh…how long are the private dances?” Steve asked as Bucky sent a murderous glare Kingpin’s way.

“They’re scheduled anywhere from 5 minutes to 20 minutes.  Mr. Fisk always takes 20,” she rattled off.

“I’ll take a 20 after him for my friend,” Steve said and paid her the money.  She nodded and walked off as Steve turned back to Bucky.  “Buck, you need to stay calm.”

“I am calm,” Bucky grunted.  “Twenty minutes is a long time.”

“Right,” Steve said, sounding worried.

They both sputtered as Y/N took off her last layer of clothing, her nipples covered in heart shaped pasties and her nether regions barely covered by a small, glittery red bikini bottom, her full ass hanging out as she jiggled it to the audience, the fan in her hand shaking as she finished the song.  She did her last pose and then smiled wide at the cheers, blowing kisses to people and bowing, covering herself with the large fan.  Her eyes seemed to catch sight of Kingpin and she froze for a moment, her eyes widening and the smile dropping from her face before she quickly recovered, smiling politely as she grabbed her clothes and dollar bills and exited the stage.  Bucky could tell she was scared, and it made him even angrier, and nervous.

When it was over Bucky quickly stood and marched over with Steve to the private dance area.  Kingpin was right behind them.  Bucky decided to try his luck as he stepped up to the podium.  “Hi, I paid for a private dance with Big Booty Baby,” he said in an even, flirty tone to the woman.

“Ah, sorry, sir, our owner has first dibs,” she said, looking behind him.  

Kingpin stepped forward and stood next to Bucky.  He seemed to size him up, which made Bucky level him a cocked eyebrow.  Kingpin was a head taller than him and bulkier, probably weighing close to 400 or more pounds.  He could probably squash Bucky just by sitting on him, but Bucky didn’t let it get to him.  “It’s alright, Roxy, this gentleman can take his turn first,” Kingpin said, trying to play it off as a kindness, his blue eyes flashing dangerously.  “Oh and uh,” he leaned forward to Bucky, “she’s a spitfire.  Feisty.”  He winked at him.

Bucky wanted to deck him right there but just gave him a tight smile.  As he turned to enter the private area he glanced at Steve who was already nodding and turning to leave to find a back door to the area.  Bucky followed Roxy’s instructions and nodded to Kingpin before heading into the private room near the back, thankfully right next to the exit.  When he walked in the room Y/N was pressed into a corner, dressed in a robe and turned away from him.

“Stay away from me, Wilson,” Y/N said firmly, not looking at him.

“Y/N,” Bucky said quietly.  She turned, looking at Bucky in shock.

“Bucky?  What?”  She stared at him then held her robe tighter over her body.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here,” he held a hand out to her.

“I can’t,” she said, her eyes filling with tears.  “I’m covering for Tiffany.  He wasn’t supposed to be here,” she said, her chin trembling.

“It’s not safe, Y/N,” Bucky said, slowly approaching her.  “We need to leave.”

“There’s cameras everywhere,” Y/N said.  “It’s in the corner behind you.”  Bucky stiffened and sighed.  “They’re always watching.  I have to give you a dance or the manager or Fisk will come back and do something.”

“Okay fine,” Bucky said matter-of-factly.  He turned to the large, wide armchair behind him and sat in it stiffly.  “Give me a dance, then we’ll head towards the door like you’re sending me off, and slip out the exit.”  Y/N stared at him wide-eyed, her eyes flicking to the camera and back to him.  “Come on, Y/N, we only have 18 minutes left,” Bucky urged her.

Y/N watched him for another moment then nodded solemnly.  Her hands released her robe and slid it off her body, showing off her bright blue bustier top she had changed into.  She was wearing a matching thong and garter set with sheer blue stockings, her feet bare.  Bucky swallowed thickly as he looked at her.  She swayed her way over to him, matching the beat of the music bumping around them, putting on a show for the camera.

When she reached him she pulled a leg up and set her foot on his knee, moving her hand from her thigh down to her foot slowly, tipping her body forward to show off her heavy cleavage.  Her hand edged off her foot to his thigh, kneading the flesh there as she climbed onto the chair, straddling his legs, her hips slotting over his.  Bucky didn’t dare move.  The feelings he’d been tamping down were coming out full force, refusing to believe that it wasn’t real.  Her fingers scratched up his shirt, and when she reached the top buttons she undid three of them and leaned in.  She placed a kiss on his chest then dragged her mouth up to his neck and licked just under his jaw.

Bucky’s hands moved to her hips, gripping them firmly to help ground himself.  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Y/N whispered into his ear, giving his earlobe a nibble as her hands roamed along his chest and arms.

“It’s okay,” Bucky breathed, his hips trembling when she started to grind down on him.  “We’ll…mmh,” he moaned as she bit his neck lightly, her hands moving to his hair and scratching his scalp.  “We’ll talk about it at home.”

Y/N nodded against his neck.  She glanced at the timer behind him.  10 minutes.  “Forgive me,” she said quietly.  Bucky didn’t understand until she suddenly pulled away and got off the chair.  She turned around and slapped her ass, making it jiggle in his face, then took his hands and led them to her ass, encouraging him to touch her.  Bucky tried to act like he didn’t want to, but it was no use.  He sat up and kneaded her ass, his face close to her right cheek.  He wasn’t sure what came over him but he slapped that cheek, making her gasp, then leaned forward further and lightly kissed the welt that started forming.  Y/N moaned this time, her hands tightly wrapped around his wrists.  She pushed him back and sat back on his lap.  She started grinding her hips into his, her hands supporting herself on his knees.  Bucky helped guide her hips where he wanted them, the crack of her ass enveloping his covered cock so perfectly it had his eyes rolling.

“Buck?  I found the exit nearest you.  Where are you?”  Steve’s voice rang in his ear.

“Almost there,” Bucky said as evenly as he could.  Steve copied and Bucky silenced his earpiece.  Y/N leaned back so they were cheek to cheek, Bucky’s panted breaths huffing against her face.  She pulled his hands to her thighs, which he immediately started gripping roughly.  “Fuck, honey,” he groaned, watching her grind against him.

“Honey?” Y/N said, her voice airy and sultry like it was on stage.

Bucky nodded as she slid across his cock just right that his hips rutted up against her.  Y/N smiled and kept grinding on him that way.  Bucky’s hands slipped up her body until his covered metal hand cupped her left breast and his flesh hand wrapped around her throat.  He was losing all sense of self, just enjoying this pleasure while he still could, almost forgetting the danger they were in.  “Sweet and smooth,” he murmured, his metal hand rubbing her breast then down her stomach, “like honey.”

Y/N whimpered as his voice dropped.  She grabbed his metal hand, pausing when she saw it covered by the faux skin, but then brought it to her mouth. She stuck her tongue out and licked his pointer finger slowly, swirling around it then sucking his middle finger into her mouth with it, licking and sucking them together like it were his cock.  That combined with her gyrating hips had him growling into the crook of her neck as his hips jerked and he came in his pants.  Y/N gasped around his fingers but kept sucking them as he jerked a couple more times with how much he was cumming.  He’d never seen something so erotic, and he kissed her neck as his breathing evened out.

Y/N slightly turned her head and looked behind him.  2 minutes.

“We need to go now,” Y/N said.  She quickly stood up and put on her robe, grabbing a bag that was hiding under the couch across from them.  Bucky cleared his throat and tried to fix his ruined pants as he stood.  He looked at the timer and then turned his earpiece back on.  

“Steve, we’re coming out now,” he grunted.

“Ready when you are,” Steve replied. 

Bucky grabbed Y/N by the arm and led her to the door.  He opened it and looked out into the hallway.  Seeing no one coming he opened the exit door next to them and held it open for her.  Just as Y/N stepped out and was one foot out the exit, Kingpin rounded the corner.

“What the fuck?!” he shouted as he started running towards them.

Y/N gasped and looked panicked as Bucky pushed her out the door.  Steve was in a car right next to it and Bucky hurried her inside and slammed it behind himself.  “Go!” he yelled and Steve took off.

Kingpin burst through the exit door when they were already halfway down the alley.  “GET BACK HERE YOU BITCH!  I OWN YOU!!” he yelled.  Bucky looked back just as he saw Kingpin pull out a gun.

“Duck!” he yelled and pushed Y/N’s head down.  

A shot rang out and ricocheted off the bulletproof back window, making Y/N scream.  Steve peeled around the corner and they quickly drove away.  They circled around, taking different twists and turns.  When they were sure they weren’t being followed Steve headed back towards the compound.  

Bucky couldn’t relax, his head on a swivel as Steve continued home.  The car was quiet until a small sniffle came from Y/N.  Bucky’s head whipped toward her and his expression softened.  She was still hunched over, like she was afraid she could still get shot.  Tears poured down her cheeks as she clutched her robe tight around her.  She was shivering.  Bucky sighed and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer to him.  She flinched at first, looking at him with wide eyes, but then she melted against him, tucking her head against his chest as she cried.  He held her close, rubbing her arm and whispering comforting words into her hair.  

When they pulled up to the compound Steve quickly turned around in the car.  “Y/N, are you okay?”

Y/N sighed and sat up, wiping at her eyes.  “I’m fine, thanks Steve,” she whispered.

Steve gave her a long look then turned to Bucky.  “You good?”

“As much as I can be,” Bucky shrugged.

“Alright.  We’ll meet in the conference room tomorrow morning at 10 a.m.  All of us,” he looked at Y/N pointedly.  She hung her head and nodded.  “Go clean up and get some rest, the both of you.”  He exited the car and headed inside, leaving them behind.

Bucky grabbed Y/N’s bag and exited the car, holding the door open for her.  She followed him out and trailed behind him as they walked inside.  Thankfully everyone was either away or had gone to bed already so they weren’t bothered as they headed to their suite.  The elevator ride was deafeningly silent, and the walk down the hallway was eerie with the thud of their footsteps echoing.  When Bucky opened the door he let Y/N enter first and they were greeted with Pepper sitting on the couch.

“Welcome back, how–” she stopped when she saw Y/N.  “Y/N?  What…?”  She walked over to her and reached out a hand, pushing back some of her hair.

“I’m fine,” Y/N waved off her concerned look.  “It was just…a lot.”

Pepper looked over her tear stained and makeup streaked face and then down her body at her outfit.  Y/N closed the robe again.  “I thought you said you were done with the burlesque club.”

It sounded accusatory and Bucky stepped forward.  “Pepper, don’t.”

“I was,” Y/N spoke up, giving Pepper a hard glare.  “My friend needed help.  I told her I’d cover this one shift so she could audition for a new place that’s not owned by the same person.  He’s dangerous.  I was…helping a friend,” she sniffed, her lip trembling.  “I will not apologize for that.  But I will apologize for not making everyone aware of what I was doing.”

Pepper nodded then turned to Bucky.  “Are you okay with this?”

“Yes,” Bucky said resolutely.

“Fine.  But no more,” Pepper said, looking back at Y/N.  Y/N nodded.  Pepper sighed then walked around her and headed for the door.  “Winnie’s been fine.  Fell asleep about two hours ago,” she said as she opened the door then shut it behind her.

Bucky and Y/N stood silently in the front room.  Bucky walked toward Y/N’s room with her bag.  She slowly followed him.  He entered the room and set the bag down on her bed before turning back to look at her.  She was looking anywhere but at him, her arms still wrapped around herself.  Bucky watched her for a moment then stepped toward her.  He lifted her chin with his finger and gazed deeply into her eyes.  “Are you okay?”

Y/N gazed back at him, her makeup smeared and her cheeks still flushed.  She gave him a sad lopsided smile and shrugged one shoulder.  “I’m fine.  Thank you, for helping me,” she whispered, her voice coming out hoarse.  Bucky waited to see any lie in her eyes, but after a moment pulled his hand away.  

“Okay,” he said simply.  “Get some rest.  We can talk about all this tomorrow.”

Y/N sighed again, closing her eyes and nodding.  Bucky was about to step around her but stopped himself.  He stepped closer to her again, lifting his hand to cup her cheek.  Her eyes flew open and she stared at him with wide eyes.  His eyes searched her face, flicking between her eyes to her lips and back.  He leaned forward slowly, waiting for her to react or pull away.  When she didn’t he took that as a good sign and closed the gap, kissing her cheek, so very close to the side of her mouth.  He pulled away and stared at her lips for a moment before looking back up at her eyes.  Her mouth slightly hung open, her own eyes focusing on his lips.  

“Thanks for the dance,” Bucky said, a small smirk lighting up his face.  He dropped his hand from her face and stepped around her as she gasped lightly.  When he turned to close her door she was staring at him with a stunned expression.  He winked and closed the door behind him.

@angelbabyyy99 @capswife @julvrs @bellabarnes1378 @mostlymarvelgirl @mega-kittyglitter-1 @buckitostan @drdbnkl2008 @wintrsoldrluvr @danzer8705

[babygirl-riley]

I’m sorry

Simon got shot and you don’t know if you can help

I saw this tik tok and now you all get to suffer 🧍🏻‍♀️

“Take me from the dark, from the dark. I ain’t gonna make it myself.”

Warnings: angst, violance, blood, mentions of death, swearing, mentions of smut

Pt. 2

simon x reader guide

simon x reader fluff/angst list

The groaning, the panting, the moans. Usually they would be good memories, memories that you would have with Simon pinning you against a wall or bed. Intertwining each other, his cock hitting your sponge spot. Those were the moans you loved hearing.

These ones however made your skin crawl. Hurt. Wanting to die. You don’t know what happened. One moment both you and Simon were overlooking a base full of Russians and next you were attacked. Surrounded as you called to Laswell that you were falling back then the deafening shot.

Simon fell, still, no movement. You screamed as you shot out and dragged him to a safe spot. After what felt like hours that you got him up and ran into the trees, he woke up. Gargling. Mumbling. Screaming. Blood spurt in different places. His leg, arm, side, it seem to be everywhere.

You thanked the gods that you found safety. Abandoned cabin, miles and miles away from the base. Hoping they don’t find you both. You broke into the house placing Simon on the old couch. “Stay with me baby.” You cried running around the home stealing rags, sheets, clothes, anything that could cover the blood.

“Y/n…” He couldn’t finish your name.

“Shut up Simon.” You yelled as you ripped open drawers trying to find anything to sew him back up.

ANYTHING! Duck tape, string, fuck GLUE just anything! You ran to him running with arms full of shit. You look up at his mask, his eyes blank. You ripped your helmet off and gloves, tearing the sheet first. You started his leg, tying the top of his thigh to stop the bleeding. He moaned moving his head over.

Your eyebrows kneaded together as you started his arm. You pulled out your knife looking at his vest. You had to, you had to rip his clothes. He would be cold you have to stop the bleeding. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” You cried ripping his top part off.

The blood seeping, you pressed on that first. His eyes gazed over towards you looking at you. You didn’t notice that he tried to reach for you. It wouldn’t stop you tried putting more and more on. “I don’t know what to do,” You cried placing a hand on his mouth having him face you. “Tell me what to do! Simon please!” You screamed watching his eyes roll and tears edging to come out.

Simon didn’t know what to do. Everything was on fire but at the same time no pain was there. He was dying he knew of it. Simon begged with his eyes to have you stop. To hold him. He was fucking terrified. He was terrified of leaving you here alone with his dead body. He was afraid of you crying and screaming in agony. He was afraid to have you left alone with their child at home. He was afraid of not growing old with you. He was afraid…

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I don’t know what to do! I…FUCK! Please Simon just stay awake!” He grabbed your hand trying to call you down as you sobbed. Wanting your hand to stay right there, he could feel you, he could feel that heat. Your touch. God he will miss it. He felt his face change about to cry. About to mourn for you. He didn’t want to leave you. You shook your head, slowly and gently ripping his hand off so you could work. He wanted to cry, the loss of your hand was something that just made him so upset.

Hold me y/n. Please just hold me. Need you to hold me. Simon wanted to yell at you to do it. He just wants to feel you one last time, just like how he did the first time he did. Simon wanted to feel your curves, you warmth. That would have him get closer to death happily. Not scared.

“Simon stay the fuck awake!” You yelled. It startled him, he never head you yell at him like that. Only to rookies. Did he try to close his eyes. Maybe. He just wants to be held. He needs you.

Stay awake. Stay awake. Stay awake. Stay awake. That is all he could think. Watching you work on him. Please stay awake Simon. Blood covered his mask and face from you holding it for a moment. Your hands stained with his blood. Covered that silver band. The band that bonded you both now stained in a horrible memory.

Sickness and in health. God he wanted to laugh. You are right here through this “sickness,” watching him die. Fuck there was a lot of blood not in him, he could feel it too. Simon wanted to help, wanted to speak. Ease the tension. But he couldn’t.

He felt himself slipping. “Why won’t it fucking stop! Come on Simon just stay awake!” You snapped your head over making sure he was awake. Alive.

Simon blinked making an indication he was breathing. You couldn’t stop crying yet you couldn’t stop putting pressure on his wound. You need it to stop. You need it to keep staying inside of him. You need him alive.

Your child needs to see him again. To hold him. To make more memories with. You looked back up at him, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. “Simon,” You yelled him jolting a bit. “Stay awake, please don’t.”

Simon looked down at you, sympathy behind them. God you wanted to slap it off cause it’s like he knew he was dying showing you that he loves you. Saying goodbye. “Hold…” He coughed, you could hear the blood in his mouth. “Hold me.”

You shook your head. “Stop that. Stop that right now,” You cried looking back at the wound. “You’ll be fine.”

Simon sighed, he knew he would be doing the same. Wanting to keep the blood down instead of holding you. To keep you alive. It’s just the feeling of his soul leaving. He wanted to feel you as he let himself go. You just were stubborn, refused for him to go. Refusing to come for terms with him dying.

Simon inhaled deeply, there it is. Is this what it felt when a reaper came to grab you? Is this how it felt when his soul was cutting the last strings. He was tired. God he was so tired. Simon watched as your face changed to hope but it could be too late. He can feel himself slipping.

“You’re going to be okay,” You said sobbing once more. “It’s going to be…”

That’s when your voice disappeared, he can see you as you got up running around to finally get your hands on duck tape. You smiled, seemed like you laughed. It’s too late baby. Was all he thought. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. He said to himself. I tried I really tired.

You wrapped the duck tape around him holding the sheet down. You worked on the other wounds, placing other pieces in them holding them down with duck tape. You wiped your arm from the sweat and tears. You laughed, you got them to stop. You looked at Simon smiling at him, hoping to celebrate with him. Soon it dropped. Everything.

“Simon,” You asked watching his eyes start to close, trying to stay open. “Baby please I got it to stop,” You placed your bloody hand on his cheek, this time he wasn’t grabbing it. Panic ran through your veins. “No nononononono! I got it to stop!”

You shook him a bit with no movement, his eyes rolling close. “I’m sorry no! Please! It’s not too late baby! Please please! Simon stay with me! I can’t loose you!”

You shook him once more looking around for more wounds. There were no other ones. Maybe you didn’t weren’t attentive to the other wounds? You sobbed as you looked around his body. “Please Simon,” You begged looking back at him, he was pale, lose of blood can do that. “Simon I’m sorry! Please. I am so sorry! I…Oh my god no.”

Your mind went blank as you leaned back on your legs. He can’t be gone. Not him please. He has to come home in no body bag. Warm not cold. Holding you. Holding him. Holding your child. You thought of ways of telling your child how daddy’s isn’t coming home. How it is just mommy and him. No daddy. You shook your head. This was the last assignment. Last loose end of their career.

You were suppose to grow old together. Have grandchildren. Have more children even. Grow old without the fucking SAS career. You gasped as you looked around you are alone. He isn’t here. He is gone. You cried and cried begging. Apologizing. This is your fault. It should have been you. Not him. Your veins went cold seeing his body still.

Just check. He could be alive, just slowly breathing. Barely alive. You sat up slowly, shakily placed your fingers against his pulse. “Please baby please.”

[bardy-boy]

Who Is Who Within The Mystery Gang and Bad Kids Mash Up?

Disclaimer: none of these mash ups are identical. These are just the closer comparisons that I believe to be correct. And yes, for an even number I had to include Scrappy. I love the person that I paired with Scrappy so there’s no hate to that character. Also, I realize that the intrepid hero’s have many characters. I chose the bad kids because they are the most like the mystery gang, not because I don’t like other seasons. I love other seasons. Now hear me out, gang.

Fred is Riz. This probably has to do with the autistic boy swag I get from both of them. They both are so passionate about mystery solving and charismatic, although not always great with people. Though neither of them are natural born leaders they manage to keep the group with a focus on mystery because these dudes really truly love mystery. They’re passionate and cute and terrible at reading social cues. While neither of them are necessarily prone to romance, they are filled with love. Their friends are one of the most important things in their life and they have a complete dedication to them.

Daphne is Fabian. Both of these two come from a rich and privileged life style. They’re not super accustomed to norms and can sometimes struggle with understanding their privilege. That being said, they are protective, caring, and willing to learn. Both of their love languages is gift giving which is great coming from someone with such amazing fashion sense. They can be easy to over look, but in reality they are so kick ass. Either of them could easily kill a man and look hot while doing it. They are more than just looks and money, they are fiercely loyal and insanely active!

Velma is Adaine. This is something we can all agree on. They’re the smarts, yes, but they’re also soft and nervous. Each have a need to be perfect, to strive for the best. And as nice as they are, you do not want to get on their bad side. There is a deep buried rage in there. They both love their friends, but also enjoy time to be alone and recuperate. With all the chaos of a big group it’s okay to need moments to calm yourself. This is very different from loneliness which (I think) both have a deep fear of. Without these group members, the rest of the group would fall way off track. Sometimes taking your time and slowly solving the puzzle is the best move. Velma and Adaine already know that.

Shaggy is Gorgug. This lanky loser can fit so much love inside of them. They are both very low key and chill on the outside. Neither of them are great at expressing their feelings (albeit in different ways) but they know just how to comfort someone when they are down. Maybe neither of them are the brightest in the bunch, probably because all that metal music they listen to at full volume blew out some brain cells. Also, each of these dudes are so awkward when it comes to romance, but that never stops them from trying. These dudes are a glue in the friendship. You just can’t find anyone who dislikes them.

Scooby is Kristen. I know this one is weird, but hear me out. This clumsy idiot would die (and in both cases (if you know where to look) has died) for their friends. Each one is always down for a joke and uses humor to cope with bad situation. And, out of the group, talks the most about food. Even though both of these characters don’t come from great situations (in the majority of Scooby media, Scooby was a misunderstood stray before the gang) they go through life happily and with love. They choose worship as a form of love (food vs a deity) and are both attracted to dogs. THE lovable goofball.

Scrappy is Fig. I know this is going to be controversial, especially since I hate Scrappy and love Fig, but when I’m right I’m right. The sheer amount of confidence and chaos displayed within these characters make no sense, but you love to see it. They get the rest of the gang in so much trouble. As naïveté as both of these guys are they do it to protect their friends (and show off a little bit). Although there has been a change of writing for the mystery gang, the original group loved and was dedicated to scrappy no matter what. Yes, they make mistakes but both of them look up too and honor their friends so much. They love a good joke and to encourage others to put themselves out there. Maybe they aren’t everyone’s cup of tea, but fuck everyone else. Those who like you are the only people you should care about. Also they both love the word fuck.

[sitp-recs]

Hi Liv! I know you're still on a fandom break, but your rec lists are the best and I really need some Harry pov fics—think Away Childish Things, Nice Things, and Here's the Pencil Make it Work all of which which I've already reread too many times in the past six months for me to describe accurately myself as "okay" so if you know of any other similar fics I'd much appreciate it!

Tysm and hope ur having a lovely evening 💜

Hello friend, happy to help! I haven’t read a lot recently so I apologize for not reccing any new fics here. I’m assuming you already know Turn by SG which has an iconic Harry POV, so I have listed other titles with a focus on pining!Harry. I hope you find some exciting new reads here!

Still Life, orphaned (M, 3k)

in a rambling way by @fw00shy (T, 7.5k)

Ron knocked Hermione up, and now Harry's got to figure out how to clone himself so that his friends don't split up fighting over him. Falling for Draco again was never part of the plan.

Clear As Mud by scoradh (M, 9k)

Set post-war and post-Harry's-conscience...

Poppiholla by @moonflower-rose (M, 12k)

Harry had accepted that he would pine silently for Malfoy forever, but one, humid summer might change that.

Take These Lies by @pennygalleon (E, 20k)

There’s a portrait of his godfather in Draco Malfoy’s potions shop and Harry needs to know why. But that’s not why he keeps coming back.

Faint Indirections by ignatiustrout (2019, T, 29k)

Draco Malfoy is the last person Harry expects to turn up in Boston, Massachussetts. But now he's here, and he won't stop requesting books from the library where Harry works.

On Your Shore by @xanthippe74 (M, 35k)

Clearing out a remote house full of cursed collectibles in the Outer Hebrides? Not a problem for an experienced curse breaker like Harry Potter. Spending a week with the straight, happily-married man that he’s starting to have feelings for? And sharing a bed with him at night? Surely Harry can handle that, too.

Rush (For A Gap That Exists) by @sleepstxtic-drarry (M, 42k) - F1 AU

A story of love and loss that grew amidst the most infamous rivalry in Formula One history: the story of Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter.

Modern Love by @tackytigerfic (E, 61k)

Harry Potter, of all people, knows that life isn’t always fair. And no one gets to be happy all of the time. But surely there’s something more—something better—than a rubbish Ministry job, and a lonely old house, and that feeling that everyone out there is doing a better job of living than Harry is.

The Beauty of Thestrals and Other Unseen Things by @writcraft (E, 63k)

Harry has terrific friends, an amazing girlfriend and his job as Head Auror enables him to work on challenging cases and Ministry reform. He just wishes he could work out why he’s been so out of sorts.

The Promise of Summer by Omi_Ohmy (M, 66k)

How was Harry supposed to know that coming back for eighth year would be so confusing? Everything is the same, and yet not the same. And nowhere is this more obvious than with Draco Malfoy. Harry finds himself once more watching and following Malfoy, trying to work him out.

Home Truths by @skeptiquewrites, art by @fantalfart (E, 67k)

In the off-season Harry decided to fix up Grimmauld Place and found that Draco Malfoy was the only person who could help him. A demanding career and unrelenting press scrutiny were enough to deal with before Harry added a house with a mind of its own, family history, and a tense, flirty, complicated relationship with his childhood nemesis to the mix.

Little Deaths and How to Avoid Them (or Draco Malfoy's Guide to Stop Dying and Start Living Instead) by nerakrose and dustmouth (T, 96k)

Malfoy is way too interested in coroner reports for somebody who's definitely not looking for ways to die, Harry wants to be friends with him, and Ginny wants to break up with Harry.

Grounds for Divorce by Tepre (E, 122k)

Malfoy finds a coin. Harry finds a letter.

By the Grace by lettered (T, 140k)

Harry is an Auror instructor. Malfoy wants to be an Auror.

[litlunacy]

So I’ve been contemplating Nilofynn’s fey patron again, still trying to get a feel for her. I’d wanted someone a little flighty, maybe a little silly, but also still a typical petty, possessive sorta fey creature. But I figured I’d do a little lore digging to see if there was a canon Archfey that I could use instead of making one up because I’m lazy like that. And uh…I got more than I bargained for. (Ramble-y thoughts ahead, including evil!AU thoughts. Yay!)

I never wanted his patron to be evil, so I was looking into the Seelie Court. And then I thought, wait, wouldn’t it be interesting if his patron was actually Titania, the Seelie Queen? Cuz like, you’d have to be either mad or super sure of yourself to go making a pact with a Bhaalspawn, right? An unpredictable murder machine? But then I thought, why the hell would she want one, especially with Bhaal’s Chosen, made from his own essence?

Well, obviously she offered up the contract while Bhaal was still dead. Duh. Tried to get in there while Bhaal had minimal influence, maybe turn Fynn to the light.

Like, she sees this young man full of so much life and with so much love to give and his affinity for nature and then wham the Urges take over and he murders his adoptive family. He’s broken. So she steps in and is like, ‘hey, it’s okay, it wasn’t your fault. I can help, you know. I have power. I can use that to help, to keep you calm, to keep you grounded, keep you you.’ Of course it doesn’t always work, and it never works when he falls in love, they always die, but he just can’t stop falling anyway, and Titania is there in the aftermath, giving comfort, consoling him and trying to figure out a way to help him. But she’s not as much of a match for the dead god of murder as she thought, and then Bhaal returns, and it’s worse, it’s so much worse, and Fynn gets darker and becomes the Chosen and she thinks she’s lost him. But then he falls in love with Gortash, and it’s a terrible decision, really, but it’s him, it’s that boy full of love she’s been trying to protect. She has hope.

And then he gets his brain whacked apart and tadpoled, and he forgets it all. Even her. But it’s an opportunity. He’s not the Chosen now, Bhall isn’t whispering directly in his ear, he doesn’t know the terrible things he’s done, the thing his father turned him into. She gets a do-over. She can save him this time. Which is why she refuses to answer any questions about his past. He thinks she’s stringing him along, but she’s really trying to steer him the right way, protect him from his past. And between her belief in him, and the rest of the gang’s belief in him, especially Astarion and Halsin, it works. He does resist his Urges, he does defy Bhaal, he does get his happily ever after with the men he loves and their gaggle of critters and orphans and vampire spawn horde. And it feels like the best pact she’s ever made.

But in my lore digging, I also read about the Raven Queen. Which, the raven has very much been Fynn’s symbol to me since the beginning. He’s mutliclassed into ranger and has a raven familiar. And the Raven Queen’s domain is in the Shadowfell, and she collects memories of loss and tragedy. What’s more tragic than a man forced to kill every person he’s ever loved? So what if she had gotten her claws on him first that day he murdered his family? What if she was constantly whispering even more darkness in his ear? Well, then he’d be a hexblade warlock for one thing, and also he’d end up getting the Slayer form and telling Shadowheart to kill the Nightsong. He’d return to his place as the Chosen of Bhaal. He’d let Astarion ascend. And Halsin would be stuck watching them both feed into the worst of each other, descending further and further into darkness while he can’t do a thing about it. But he can’t kill them either, because he loves them too much and once again blames himself for it all. A big old tragedy all around.

IDK if I’ll do this evil!AU playthrough, but boy am I feeling the vibes. I’d make myself feel terrible the whole while, but it might be fun? I don’t usually do full evil playthroughs in games, but something about this compels me. (Also knowing that it’d just be and AU and in canon they’re all together and happy and being their best selves)

[teaandcharchives]

Ask Skyrim Johnkat - Battlehorn Chapter 4

Fandom: Homestuck, skyrim, the elder scrolls.

Pairing: johnkat, DaveJade, and eventually we’ll be getting into some poly stuff that I hen’t figured out how to annotate yet.

Word Count:   13866

Rating: M, might go up to E later, or I might post those parts either. For now just sexual references.

Summary:   More in the realm of “after the happily ever after.” They may have managed to save the world, but can John and Karkat handle the actual homecoming? If that seems like a step down, it’s probably because early modern local government is a lot more complicated than it first appears. Especially because there’s a lot of moving pieces in the Egbert Family once everyone comes home…

Read on AO3 here, or under cut below

Series start

Notes: Let this be a lesson in why you leave comments on old fics - There was one very kind person who read all 260k words of this AU a couple months ago and really loved it, which inspired me to go back and reread it, learn it still holds up (though I did make a couple little tweaks), and realize I wanted to go back to playing in the space. So I did.

I'm not sure how this chapter got to be almost 14k, other than that the only logical splitting point was less than 1/3 in. Besides, if you're gonna come back after *checks watch* four years, might as well do a lot.Because this is just playing in the space, I'm not sure how much more I'm actually going to write, and it's definitely going to be a lot more episodic than the other pieces. But I do have outlines for 3 more chapters ready to go. So there's that lol.

Chapter 4 

It’s easier than you thought it’d be to slot yourself back into life at the castle. You were worried that after a full year of wandering around it’d be overwhelming to keep so many tasks balanced, to commit yourself to a schedule. Yet, after a few days it almost feels like you'd never left.

You’ve got Karkat now, of course, but you barely see him, especially compared to when you traveled together. He spends all day with his nose in books, but it’s not like when you were at Winterhold. You were separated all day, sure, but then in the evenings he’d be so animated in telling you about whatever he’d read. Now he just seems drained. You suppose that’s the difference between law or etiquette and shit he actually cares about. You can talk a little bit in the baths and you hold each other once you get back to your rooms, but you don't get much time before exhaustion takes one or the other of you. On Temple days you sit beside him, sure, but it’s hardly a social experience. You just share space as the priest and congregation offer prayers to the divines, and then as soon as services are over you have to hustle back to the castle to listen to grievances with your dad. You admit it was kind of nice to have a bit of space at first. It gave you something new to talk about in your time alone, but now you kind of miss him.

Then, one day in early Frost Fall, your father calls for a house meeting in his study. By the time you arrive, everyone else is there already. Your uncle sits at the desk and your dad stands behind him. You were expecting Karkat and Jake, but are somewhat surprised to see Provenco and Marcellia, the steward and head cook. That means it’s probably not strictly a family problem, but there are still plenty of things it could be. Your mind is racing. Did someone die? Is someone going to die? Are you losing funding? Are the borders changing? Which ones? When you take your place next to Karkat, he quickly grips your hand tightly. 

Two pieces of paper on the desk catch your eye. You see broken seals on the top and bottom. They’re clearly letters, but you can’t see enough to tell from whom, just that one was sealed with white wax and the other blue. 

A smile tweaks at the corner of your father’s mouth. “Don’t look so stressed. This is good news.” 

There’s a collective breath outward. Not a full sigh from anyone, but enough of a release of tension to be palpable. 

“Could have led with that,” you hear Karkat grumble. You gently elbow him. 

“First,” Your father continues. You’re not sure if he didn’t hear Karkat or is just choosing to ignore him. “Jade is returning sometime next week. And much like John, she's bringing someone home.”

“So she and Dave did get betrothed?” Jake asks. 

“According to this letter, yes.” 

In some ways that’s even more of a relief. You and Jake look at each other and smile. You wanted to believe Karkat when he said Dave would come home with Jade, but with how little you knew about the guy you couldn’t be sure. But she’s coming! She’ll be home soon! And then if she starts training apprentices too, maybe you’ll be able to have a little more time to spend with Karkat. 

“And the timing is perfect, because Countess Olivia Valga will be joining us for the Witches Festival as well.” 

“This isn’t a prank, is it, my lord?” Asks Provenco. His voice is firm, and his broad, serious features are set in a neutral expression, but you can see hints of concern in his eyes. “The last time a Count or Countess came for a banquet was your wedding. My staff would only have a week and a half to prepare!” 

“You may read her letter, if you wish,” Dad says, lifting the piece of parchment with the blue seal. “I am sorry for the short notice, Provenco. Especially since I know your father handled the preparations last time. However, you have managed this estate for many years now, and you are as skilled a steward as he was, and I have every faith in you, as well as Marcellia,” he adds, nodding to her. “You will have the apprentices fully at your disposal until then. It’ll do some of the younger ones good. John, Jake, I expect you to coordinate with the Pontillas, make sure they have all the help they need.”

You and your cousin nod.  

“When is she coming and how long will she be here?” Marcellia asks. “I need to know for menu planning.” 

“She plans to arrive the thirteenth and leave the fourteenth. She’ll be bringing one handmaid, but is leaving her husband to manage the city.” 

“Did she say why she’s coming now?” You ask. 

“She did not, but I imagine it has to do with you. The way most people tell it, you - with or without Karkat’s help depending on the teller - effectively ended the war and dragon crisis by yourself. And furthermore,” Your dad’s gaze turns to Karkat. “She’ll want to meet her future vassal.”

Your fiance inhales sharply, and you gently rub his knuckles with your thumb in reassurance. 

“We’ll be switching to a focus on etiquette,” Uncle Joel says, “So you don’t have to worry so much about logistics until after Olivia leaves. The goal, remember, is for you to succeed.” 

“Right,” Karkat says. It’s subtle (for him), but you can tell he doesn’t believe it. 

“Any questions?” Dad asks. 

Everyone looks at each other awkwardly. 

“Well, then, let’s get to it. Karkat, John, you stay.” 

You and Karkat both tense. 

“You’re not in trouble,” your dad and uncle say at the same time. 

Jake and the Pontillas leave. Jake gives you a reassuring pat on the shoulder on the way out. 

“So…” You say. 

“We need to figure out the best way to get Karkat up to speed as quickly as possible.” Joel says. “And we’ll need to work together on that.”

Karkat looks down. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s not your fault!” you insist. “You’re doing great!” 

“I can’t complain about your progress thus far,” Uncle Joel amits, “But we weren’t expecting you to encounter other Cyrodilic nobles yet.” 

“Yeah,” you say, “I mean, sure, we technically invite Liv to every festival, and she always invites us, but that’s just a formality. More of a ‘you’re welcome if you want to show up, but we know you’re not gonna.’ kinda deal.” 

“Indeed,” Dad says. “John, I need your honest opinion. I know you interacted with several Jarls in Skyrim. How did he do with them?” 

“I mean…” you shift your weight uncomfortably, thinking of how to word it. “It seems like things are less formal in Skyrim. He didn’t treat them much differently than anyone else, but it seemed like that was fine.”

“‘Fine’ may not be good enough.”  

Karkat takes a deep breath, straightens his posture, and makes a valiant attempt to put on a proper accent. “Once I realized that John was more proficient in dealing with those of standing, I allowed him to take the lead in those conversations. I… do admit that at times my temper gets the better of me, however.” 

“Hey, good more formal word choice!” You say. 

He smirks at you. “I’m rather well read, as you recall. My vocabulary has never been lacking.” He drops the accent. “It’s just a lot of times the best word for the situation is ‘fuck.’”

You can’t help but laugh at that. You catch a smile on Dad’s face, but Uncle Joel is a bit more serious. 

“True as all that might be,” your uncle says, “I think your accent is unlikely to be solid enough by her arrival next Morndas. It may be better to embrace sounding a bit foreign and focus on learning some of the quirks of Cyrodilic etiquette. It's not uncommon for people of other provinces to take up positions in various courts, and while many never pick up the accent, the manners are indispensable." 

Karkat purses his lips for a moment before speaking again, this time with a much harsher accent, identical to his father’s. “If… If you think it would help, I can do this one much more reliably.” 

“Yes, that may be for the best. I don’t…” Uncle Joel pauses for a moment. “This is your home, and I don’t want you to feel exoticized, but we cannot risk you making an enemy of the countess. And, though we should not lean into it too much, playing the foreign card may serve to have her accept some things that aren’t at a fully noble level.” 

“No, I get it.” Karkat runs his fingers through his hair and goes back to his normal accent. “So what do we do now?” 

“Study, same as before, just a slightly different topic.” Dad turns to you. “John, walk him through as much of what he has to know as possible. Show him the actions, and tell him what you know about the Countess and her family. Tomorrow we’ll meet to go over everything. Hopefully by then we’ll have come up with a plan.” 

“Got it,” You say. 

“We won’t let you down,” Karkat adds, looking directly at your uncle. 

He smiles. “I’ll hold you to it.” 

Karkat nods sharply. Then, with an air of determination, he turns on his heel and leaves. 

—

“Okay,” John says, putting a closed book over the piece of paper you’ve been staring at. “So to review…” 

You sigh and lean back in your chair. “Yes?” 

“How long has Liv’s family been running Chorrol?”

“Six hundred years. Ish.”

“But?” 

“But not always in a direct line. Just before the Oblivion Crisis the count died and his only living child was married to the Count of Leyawiin. After the Crisis, that daughter tried to claim the County, but her… cousin? I can just say cousin right? Or do you always have to specify with you people?” 

“In this case cousin is fine. Keep going.”

“Okay, her cousin sued, saying that there was no way for the Countess of Leyawiin to manage counties on opposite side of Cyrodiil, but because the Imperial line just ended everyone was way too busy to deal with it, so the Countess’ mom stayed in charge until she died, then the cousin just kinda walked in and took over. Uh… no one stopped him because…  the Count and Countess couldn’t leave the city of Leyawiin because they were fighting Bravil and basically independent at the time. By the time the case actually made it to court, it had been like 20 years or something and everyone was just like, ‘yeah, just let the Valgas keep it.’ The Carros are still bitter about this but have way bigger problems now. Um…” You rack your brain, trying to think of any other details but you’re coming up blank.

“Remember any of the names?” 

“...No.” you admit. 

“Arriana Valga was the married countess, Alessia and Marius Carro, and the cousin was Horatio Valga.”

“Right, fuck, I kept getting Arriana and Alessia backwards.” 

John shrugs. “I mean, the good news is that you can almost always get away with referring to someone using either title-holding or title-family. That reminds me, what do you do when the Countess gets here?” 

“Cry.” 

He laughs. “No, but really.” 

This one you’ve got. It was the first thing he drilled into you. “She’s going to be introduced by a page. When she enters, your dad and uncle say hi first, then you, and then it’s my turn.” You stand and bow. Then in your best Imperial accent you say, “‘It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Countess Valga.’ Then if she offers me a hand I have to kiss it, because humans are gross like that.” John snorts. “If she has more shit she wants to say, I respond politely, then we get out of the way and let Jake go.”

“Good! And knowing her, she’ll probably ask you to call her Liv. And after that, remember-” 

“'I'll be there all night running interference.'” You say at the same time as he does. “I know. You’ve told me constantly the entire fucking time we’ve been cooped up here doing this!” 

“Right,” He says, running his hand through his hair. “Sorry. I’m just worried.”

“Why the fuck are you worried?" You snap, "I’m the only one who’s really liable to make a skeever out of himself.”

John frowns. “I know I’ve told you this too. Even ignoring the fact that whatever you do is going to reflect on the whole family, Liv needs to know you can behave.” 

“Why does everyone here talk about me like that?” You demand. “I’m not a dog or a child!” 

“I know that! Dogs and kids have way more time to learn this shit!” He puts his head in his hands. “I’m sorry, Karkat.” He says, after a moment. “I just wish I knew why she was doing this.” 

“I just assume she wants me to fail.” 

“That’s not like her. Not like the Liv I knew, anyway.” 

“People change.” 

“I know.” 

The two of you sit in silence for a moment. Crows caw in the courtyard and bits of dust dance in the slits of late-afternoon light coming through the narrow windows. You reach through the sunbeam bisecting your little table to cup John’s hand in yours. He looks up at you, sad and confused and it hurts. 

“Thank you,” You say. “For everything you’re doing for me.” 

He blinks at you and you pull your hand away. 

“So the cousin thing,” You say, changing the subject, “I’m still pretty sure you Cyrodilic nobles invented the concept of ‘third cousins’ and being ‘removed’ to either obfuscate or put checks on the ridiculous amounts of inbreeding the counts and emperors are wont to do, especially since arranging marriages is one of the only times it comes up. That and inheritance laws. But since inheritance is one of those reasons, why didn’t it matter with the Valgas?” 

“Oh, because it was an illegal seizure anyway. Chorrol should have gone to Alessia and her children by law. But I think they were first cousins anyway, which makes the claim stronger.”

“Is he the cousin that would have gotten it if Alessia died?” 

“I think so? I’d have to double check. The rest of the extended family wasn’t that important and it’s been 200 years.” 

You laugh. “See, you say that, but Dunmer politics you can see single family heads last that long.” 

John pauses for a moment and looks thoughtful. “Huh, you know, I wonder if that’s why you guys don’t need to track extended cousins. Because it’s just like you can’t marry anyone under the same family head, or under the same head as anyone who married into your branch of the family, right? But if that covers like ten generations-”

“Nords also don’t have second cousins.” you point out, “They just have kin, which is just ‘as far back as people can remember.’” 

“Yeah, but they settle inheritance disputes by duels,” he counters.

“Keep telling yourself that and just be glad you got born into the ‘let’s get fresh blood in here’ noble family.” 

“And yet we’re pretty sure everything wrong with me comes from Dad’s side and not the Skingrad side.” 

“Psh, Skingrad’s also new money. The last Hassildor only died 150 years ago. The Lafirias were wine merchants before then. Even with your scandalously short generations, a century isn’t enough time to get well and truly inbred unless you’re really working at it.” 

“Oh, so remembering details is easy if it’s to talk shit about my mom,” John teases, sticking his tongue out at you. 

“Not your mom in particular, humans in general and specifically Imperials as a whole. Besides, I never said that being from a merchant family was bad. If you are, then you are talking shit about both of our moms, and, while mine does kind of deserve it, I thought we’d agreed after meeting her that she could have been a lot worse.”

“Divines and Daedra, I love you,” John says with a laugh. 

There’s a knock at the door. 

“Come in,” John calls out. 

The younger page, Quinn you think his name is, opens the door. “I was sent to tell you Lady Jade and Sir Dave have arrived.” 

“‘Sir?’ Who’d he get to knight him?” You mutter.

John ignores you. “Thanks for letting us know, Quinn, we’ll be right down.” 

Quinn bows and leaves. 

“You’re not gonna make me dress up in the name of practice, are you?” You ask. 

“I won’t encourage Dave and Jade to give you more shit than is necessary.” 

You put the proper affectation back on. “You are too kind, my lord.” 

“Pfft, never speak to me that way again.” 

“You got it, dickwad,” you say, standing up.

“That’s my Karkat.” He gives you a quick kiss before leaving your chambers.

You follow him down the stairs. He pauses for just a moment, clearly trying to figure out where everyone is, then takes off towards the east wing. You hustle just to keep up. Thankfully he keeps it below a run.  

Dave and Jade are in the study, talking to John’s father and uncle. John runs right up and embraces his cousin the same way he did in Whiterun. Jade looks exactly like you remember her, but there’s something different about Dave. Part of it is probably clothing. He’s ditched the heavy cloak and thick Nord-style shirt and pants. He still wears a red laced-up vest, but even that looks to be lighter in terms of both material type and color. He’s switched to a white linen shirt and gray pants, rather than the black he wore before. It’s a nice change, you think. It makes him look less washed out. …Or is that it? You remember with a start that his eyes used to glow. Then you realize he’s breathing. 

“You’re alive.” You say.

Dave smirks, just barely showing off normal-sized canines. “You’re damn right.” 

John stiffens and looks with concern at his dad. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I told them ages ago,” Jade says. 

“Okay good.” John returns to your side. 

“Yeah, and I already got read the riot act from Jade’s folks in the capital.” Dave adds. “Her dad did not appreciate my observation that while the age gap is pretty significant it’s now literally impossible for me to meet girls my age without necromancy.” 

“I think he mostly didn’t like the one-two punch of you being biologically eighteen,” Jade says with a giggle. 

He shrugs. “Sorry, I can’t help being too old and too young for anyone I’ve been interested in for the last few millennia.” 

“Anyway,” John’s father says. “I was just telling them about the Countess’ upcoming visit.”

“It will not be a problem,” Dave says, his accent flawless. “It’s been quite a while, but from what Jade tells me, the rules have not changed too much in the last few centuries.” 

“...That’s not fucking fair.” You grumble. 

John takes your hand gently. 

“I’d been meaning to ask, though,” Dave continues. “Is the dancing still mandatory?” 

“More or less, unless you’d like to play the part of an old man like me,” 

“Yeah, no, I’d rather keep the ex-vampire thing within the family.” 

“Reasonable. Now,” Lord Egbert fixes his eyes on you and John. “How is Karkat’s progress?” 

John’s face lights up. “Great! I think he’s just about got the trivia and manners all down. Right?” 

“Oh… Yeah.” You say. 

John’s father and uncle give you identical skeptical looks. 

“I know enough that she’ll know I did the research, even if I don’t have all the details.” Their expressions do not change. “I’ve only had four days!”

“Fair enough.” John’s dad says. “I’m certain she’ll take it into account. We just also want to wow her as much as possible.” 

“Right.” Good enough isn’t good enough. You get it. Fuck. 

“Do you think there will be time to practice dancing soon?” John asks. “I know everyone else is also busy preparing for the feast, but I am so rusty and haven’t been able to teach Karkat at all.” 

“Why don’t we work together?” Jade suggests. “If you still remember how to play the harpsichord we can trade off playing and teaching! Dave is about 400 years behind on dance moves.”

Dave shrugs.  

“It’s more I don’t think I know enough to teach,” John admits sheepishly. "I haven't been to a real feast since Liv's wedding." 

“Speak to Jake,” Joel says. “The other day he told me that most of our apprentices, even some of those that come from noble families, need a dance lesson. Besides, I’m sure he’d like the excuse to spend some time with the rest of the family. With the three of you working together, I’m sure you’ll get it.” 

—

The next week goes by in a blur. Whether it's dancing or studying, you’re exhausted by the end of the day. None of this comes naturally to you; not the endless parade of names and dates, not the imperial dancing with its fancy footwork and next to no movement in the arms or hips, and certainly not holding your tongue and following the strict, hierarchical code of manners. John tells you you’re doing good, but you understood his uncle loud and clear. Good enough isn’t going to be good enough. And, fuck, it feels like the literal children are doing better than you, much less Dave. He almost makes the imperial dancing look good. Almost. 

You’re just… you’re tired. You don’t know how much more you have to give. You just want to spend time with John. Preferably doing something other than memorizing a bunch of dead humans’ names or looking like some sort of mentally deficient ground bird as you attempt to dance. You try not to fall asleep too quickly every night so that you can have some time with him, but inevitably you fail, drifting off what feels like mere moments after you lay down. Then, the next thing you know it's the day of the Countess' arrival. 

You frantically leaf through books, trying to pick up on something, anything, you've missed. But as soon as you look away from the pages, the facts slip from your mind like fish from a cracked basket.

John comes back from the kitchen with your normal breakfast. As fall has set in, the fruits you enjoyed earlier  He smiles at you softly, if a bit sadly. 

"Here." He says.

You ignore the food and look back down at the book.

"You should eat." 

You give a noncommittal grunt. 

He puts one of the scones on a small plate and shoves it in front of you. You give him an annoyed look, and he responds by raising his eyebrows and tipping his head down in a clear, “you’re going to do it, though.” You sigh, roll your eyes, and begin picking at the scone. It’s just not worth fighting over. 

"So,” he says, grabbing an apple, “Today, Dad is entrusting me with doing some rounds through the domain, making sure everything is ready for Liv's arrival."

"Good for you,” you reply flatly. 

"You should come with me."

"I can't. I'm studying." 

He sighs. "Karkat."

"What?"

"Are you even absorbing anything? This is like the tenth time you've read that book." 

You freeze and look back up at him, feeling the guilt on your face. "But the banquet…" 

He grins. "Come on, I'll be sure to get us back in plenty of time to make you all pretty."

You scoff. "There's not enough time in the world for that." 

"Shut up. You haven't seen you in the good clothes. Besides, what if she asks what you think of the barony?" 

"That's… not a bad point…" you concede.

"Come on, Karkat. Let's go out, ride around the countryside. I know it's not as pretty now that the wheat has all been harvested but it's a lot cooler out now. We can talk, ride together. Just like before."

Your hand reflexively goes to where your ring hangs under your shirt. You smile in spite of yourself as you finally meet his gaze.

"Let's do it." 

You put on your vest, grab a light cloak and one of the apples, and then the two of you are off. 

As you descend the castle, you see the Witches Festival fair beginning to take shape in the town square. A couple dozen people are hard at work assembling stalls and hanging banners from the buildings. In a manner of hours, practically everyone in the barony will be down there singing and dancing, trying the sweets and rich pumpkin and sweet potato dishes, with no expectation of decorum or stratification. 

From what John said, in a normal year, everyone from the castle would be right there with the common folk. Before the Countess' letter came he'd excitedly told you about everything he wanted you to try: the sweets, the breads, the games and folk dances. After the letter he promised you next year. You just hope you can give him the chance to make good on that. 

By the time you reach the stables, Shadowmere and Mouse are already ready to go. Demeem, the stablehand, is mucking out the adjacent stall. He’s a solid man, almost as tall as John and even broader with a wide flat nose and the longest dreadlocks you’ve ever seen, which he keeps tied back with a silk ribbon. His size makes him imposing, but he might be the gentlest man you’ve ever met and the horses love him for it. 

He pauses for a moment, tucking a loc that had come loose from his ponytail behind his ear and smiles at the two of you. 

"Mornin'" he says. "Got your horses ready. This is where we'll be putting Countess Chorrol's when she gets here. And we got plenty of space for her carriage on the end. Should be able to pull it in straight. Couple of septims and a handful of the village lads were more than happy to help." 

"Perfect," John says. 

He takes both horses’ reins and leads them outside. It takes a mere moment for the two of you to get into your respective saddles, and then you’re off at a reasonable trot. Though it’s been nearly a month since you’ve ridden, keeping up with John is nearly effortless. Gods, when did that happen? It wasn’t long ago that even being near a horse scared you. 

John notices and gets a wicked gleam in his eye. “Well,” he says, “First we gotta make sure that the road’s in good shape between here and the border.” 

“That’s, what, a little over two miles?” 

He nods. “Just about. So it’ll take about fifteen minutes at a trot.” 

You narrow your eyes at him, not sure where this is going. “Right.” 

“See you when you catch up!” He kicks Shadowmere into a full gallop and tears off down the dusty road. 

You curse after him and urge Mouse forward. She’s startled and confused, but that makes it easier to urge her into a sprint. From there it’s a race. You haven’t gone further than the little lake at the end of the village since you got here, and John probably knows the way in his sleep. Fortunately, most of the time the local masons have nothing else to do but maintain this stretch of road, and the horses naturally follow the easier path, rather than attempt to cross the fields. Shadowmere is bigger, with a longer stride and the power of Sithis, and he had a head start. But Mouse is slight for a Skyrim horse, and John is a lot heavier than you are. As the fields get rougher and more overgrown, the gap between you and John starts to shrink as Shadowmere starts to tire. 

But John knows you’re coming, and the road isn’t that wide. He keeps glancing over his shoulder, nudging Shadowmere left or right so you can’t get around. 

“That’s a dirty fucking trick, Egbert!” 

He flips you off over his shoulder. 

You growl at him, trying to figure out what to do. Fuck, you wish you knew some kind of magic that didn’t involve setting shit on fire. You should have Jake teach you a calm spell. But then you see your chance: the road curves slightly just up ahead. You grin and hold tight to Mouse’s reins, directing her up over the edge and straight across the scraggly grass. 

“Eat shit, asshole!” You shout at your fiance as you pass him. 

By the time you finish cutting the curve, he has to pull back or he’d plow right into Mouse’s ass. But unlike John, you’re a decent person and keep Mouse galloping at top speed. Or as close to it as she can do uphill after two miles. You’re approaching the border marker rapidly, and a quick glance over your shoulder proves you’re leaving John in the dust. 

You crest the top of the hill and cross the border with several lengths between you and John. The horses startle a murder of crows, which fly off a hundred feet or so before settling back down into a freshly-cleared field. 

“Who’s the better rider now?” You demand as John catches up. 

“Heh, I’ll remember that the next time you ask me to top,” John teases as he slides off of Shadowmere. 

“Hardy fucking har,” you say sarcastically, hopping down. “I won and you know it.”

“Still fun, though,” John replies, grinning. He pats Shadowmere’s heaving flank. “We should probably let these guys have a little rest now, though. Thanks for being a good sport, buddy!” 

Shadowmere shakes his head, you assume because horses are physiologically incapable of rolling their eyes. You take an apple from your pouch and slice off a large chunk to give Mouse as a treat. After what John put you both through, she deserves something for her trouble. That gets Shadowmere’s attention and so you have to give him the rest. You wonder briefly if he misses being your only horse before you decide that’s stupid. Demonic or not, he’s still a horse. 

John sits on a nearby stone fence and looks down into the valley below. You walk over to him and follow his gaze. From here, you can see what you know to be Chorrol’s walls rising in the distance and the Great Forest beyond. The city is scarcely more than a little gray lump sitting atop a golden and brown quilt of fields, woods, and farms, stitched together with stone or wood fences and embellished with cottages and hamlets. The Black Road gently curves down towards the city, disappearing every now and then below the cover of gold and burgundy trees. You know there are guard patrols and carts down there. The Countess is on her way in the carriage right now. But all of those people and horses are nothing more than specks against the gray stone. You’re alone in the middle of the countryside with John, and it gives you more of a pang of nostalgia than you thought it would. You take a seat on the three-foot wall next to him. 

“Someday,” He murmurs softly. 

“Huh?” 

He clears his throat. “Dad says that when he was growing up, our lands looked like that too. I mean, not so much in the west. That was still mostly shepherds. But this side was all farms. Did Uncle Joel tell you that?” 

“Right, but then the war happened.” 

“Yeah, and the damage and Imperial relocations cost us two-thirds of our people.” He sighs and looks down at his lap. “I know Dad regrets not fighting harder, but what could he do? He’d already lost most of the family.” He pauses, then looks out at the valley with renewed determination on his face. “But we’ll get there. I know we will.” 

You take his hand. “We will,” you affirm. “You’ve got a solid start. The population’s gone back up about 50% in thirty years, right? So don’t do anything stupid and even with your evanescent human lifespan you might live to see it.” 

He nudges you with his elbow. “See? I told you, stuff is sticking. You just need to get out of your head.” 

You scowl, “I need to work on my insults. They aren’t doing a damn thing anymore.” 

“When have they ever bugged me?” He laughs. “As soon as I realized you don’t really mean them-” 

“I’ll show you meaning it!” You growl, shoving him backwards. 

He wraps his arms around you, bringing you down with him. The two of you land on your shoulders, laughing and holding each other. John leans in to kiss you, and in that moment you remember what it is to be young and in love. 

When you return to the castle you’re in much higher spirits. John cheerfully reports to his father that their holdings are in the best shape they can be at this time of year. The two of you do a little work helping get the festival ready, and the innkeeper (Mrs. Dralentius, John helpfully supplied) gave you each a couple of candies in thanks. 

By that point it’s up to get ready. You and John wash and shave, then John does your hair. He just starts with water and a comb, but then he starts to work in a tiny bit of this thick cream called Uhigris. You didn’t quite believe him when he said it’d make your hair manageable but it does. Your hair isn’t flat, not really, but it weighs the curls down and defines them better, makes them look intentional. For the first time, you briefly consider growing your hair out. There were so many lice problems in the Gray Quarter you’d never dreamed of it as a child, and then when you’d moved out you’d assumed your hair was too unruly but maybe… 

Then you have to move out of the way so John can have the mirror to plaster down his perennial cowlick. Instead, you go to the wardrobe and pull out the small cedar chest John gave you. You pull out the clothes and check them over carefully, expecting some horrible stain or tear to have appeared somehow. But no, they’re as perfect as ever, which is probably why it feels so wrong to pull them on. You’ve been sleeping on silk for almost two months now, but somehow having it as a shirt feels different. The way the outfit is cut to be looser around the shoulders and thighs and tighter around the forearms and calves makes it feel like it’s designed for someone else, in spite of the fact that it’s bespoke and that every transition hits the exact right spot on your body. You look down at yourself. This outfit is a costume, and an utterly unconvincing one. You might as well be down with the peasants dressed as a lich or something. At least boots are just boots. 

John laces his doublet shut as quickly and easily as breathing and goes to grab his sword and its formal sheath. After he places the weapon on his belt, he looks up at the mirror and smiles. 

“Gods,” he breathes, “Look at us.” 

You do and… he’s right. John is, of course, radiant. The deep blue doublet brings out his eyes and the gold of the embroidery pops. The paler blue silk of his shirt contrasts perfectly with his dark skin, making him look as warm as his personality and his embrace. Though his body will always be more enticing with less on it, the doublet helps emphasize his shape; the breadth of his chest, the strength of his core. The contrast of looseness and tightness in the shirt and pants gives you just a taste of the muscles hiding below. 

But it’s not just John. You… you look like you belong. Your red doublet and black shirt complement your natural colors the same way John’s outfit does for him, and play perfectly with the silver accents. You don’t understand how the same cut of clothing can make you look as lithe and ephemeral as it makes John robust, but it doesn’t matter. It works. 

He offers you his hand and you take it in the graceful, dainty way you’d been taught over the last few days, barely cupping it. 

“What’d I tell you? You hadn’t seen you in the good clothes.” 

You pull the fancy accent on and dressed like this, looking like this, it somehow feels right. “I do not recall that conversation, my darling. But if I did, I’d probably point out that neither of us had seen me with my hair under control.” 

He laughs and then puts on his proper accent, “Well then, what say you we bring you to your first official event as a member of House Egbert?” 

“I say that sounds splendid.” 

Hand in hand, the two of you descend down the stairs without a single misstep. 

The rest of the family waits for you in the main hall. The tables have been moved, arranged into a large U shape with the opening facing towards the entrance. A couple of musicians who you think normally play in the tavern glance up for a moment when you enter before turning back to each other and speaking softly. 

The men in John’s family wear similar styles of outfits to yours, but none of them match quite the way you and John do. Jake’s is the most similar, but rather than flare out at the hip, his green doublet ends and he wears separate pantaloons. On the other end of the spectrum, John’s father and Uncle have much looser, almost robe-like vests that stop at the mid-thigh. You don’t know enough to say whether that’s an older style, or just viewed as more appropriate for men their age. For the first time, you see John’s father wearing his badge of office, a golden circlet with a large black gem in the center, and carvings reminiscent of Daedric script around it. 

Jade’s dress has a similar silhouette to her daily dresses, except she also has the puffed sleeves, but has several different shades of green silk woven into a plant-like pattern. It’s also cut much lower than her other dresses, and you think her purplish-brown bodice might be laced tighter than usual. You make a valiant effort to stop noticing that and the low gold and emerald necklace she wears. She claps and grins when she sees the two of you. 

“Aw! You guys look so cute together!” 

You feel yourself begin to blush. 

And John, seeming to feel every bit as awkward says, “Thanks, um, you too.” 

She laughs and loops her arm around Dave’s. If anyone looks out of place here, it’s him. His clothes are closer to a Nordic style, with most of his body covered in a long quilted coat made of burgundy velvet. 

“Aren’t you hot in that?” You ask. 

He winks, “You’re damn right I am.” Jade elbows him. “For real though, I’m fine.” He reaches down the neck of his shirt and fishes out a silver pendant pulsing with a faint blue light. “Amulet of ice.” 

“I need one of those for next summer,” you say. 

“400 septims.” 

“He’ll do it for free,” Jade says, elbowing him again. 

“Listen, if I do one for him, I’ll have to do one for everyone.” 

“Make it a wedding present.” 

“Anyway, what’s the word on Liv?” John asks. 

“She arrived very shortly after you returned.” John’s father says. “I showed her to the room she’ll be staying in. I believe she is preparing as we speak. She knows supper will be ready in about an hour and a half, but I do not know exactly when she’ll choose to join us.” 

“So, what?” You ask, dropping John’s hand. “We just wait here?” 

“Yep!” John says. “I mean, Dad’s the host, but none of us can really tell her what to do. The food’s gonna be ready when it’s ready, but other than that we’re on her time table.” 

“Right.” 

“Please do try to hide your disgust with the hierarchy while our liege is present,” Joel says. 

“Huh?” 

“Has anyone ever told you that you have an incredibly emotive face, Karkat?” 

“Shit. Uh, sorry.” You try to put a blank expression on your face. 

John chuckles. “Now you look like you have gas.” 

“...Man we’re so fucked.” You murmur in Dunmeri. 

“Hey, don’t worry. It’s gonna be fine. Remember, just stay next to me, follow my lead, and now… I don’t know, think about puppies or something?” 

“I’m not a dog person,” you remind him. 

“Yeah, that’s Jade.” 

“Hey!” she calls out, but then she grins. You can practically see the wolf tail wagging. 

At that point the door opens. Truss, the older page, enters and clears his throat. “Introducing her Excellency, Olivia Valga, Countess of Chorrol.” 

John takes your hand less delicately than before as the whole family, with the exception of Joel, rushes into position in a receiving line. The bards quickly begin playing softly. Once you’re all ready to go, Truss opens the door. An Imperial woman glides in. She wears a dark blue velvet dress with silver details. White lace rims every hem, and her arms are heavy with bracelets and rings. Her long black hair is intricately woven into a single massive braid with several baubles inserted. Atop her head she wears a large silver circlet with a sapphire half the size of your fist embedded in it. Behind her walks an Argonian wearing a nice cream gown and veils over her fins. She almost looks familiar. You wonder if any of her relatives work at the Assemblage. Not that you’re likely to get a chance to ask. While the Countess is around, she’s invisible. 

“Welcome, my Countess,” John’s dad says. He takes her hand and kisses it. 

“Oh Jack, there’s no need for such formalities with me. You’ve always been like an uncle to me. I’m glad to finally sample your hospitality.” 

“We’re delighted to have you. I hope you can forgive my brother for not standing to greet you. At seventy, getting around with one leg is enough of a challenge for him.” 

“Of course, I understand we all have our limitations” She nods in his direction. 

“Naturally, you remember my son…” 

“How could I ever forget? It’s wonderful to see you again, John.” 

“The feeling is mutual, Liv.” John also takes her hand and kisses it. 

“You’ll need to tell me all about your trip to Skyrim! I understand it was quite exciting! And certainly rather rewarding.” She turns her gaze to you. “After all, what Egbertian adventure is complete without bringing home a spouse?” 

He chuckles. It’s not the carefree laugh you’ve learned to love, but a lot more restrained, measured. “What adventure indeed? This is my betrothed, Karkat Vantas. I asked for his hand this spring. As is tradition for us, he’s not a noble, but he and his family are well-connected with the Dunmer of Skyrim, and I’ve been teaching him our ways.” 

“It’s delightful to meet you, Karkat.” 

“Likewise,” Your voice comes out in your attempt at a proper accent, rather than your father’s. Shit. Fuck. Well, we’re rolling with it now. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Countess Valga. John has told me so much about you.” 

“All good things, I hope.” 

“Of course.” 

She offers you her hand and you kiss it as you were taught. “And please,” she says, “anyone so close to my favorite page can call me Liv.” 

“Liv, please, it’s been eleven years since I left,” John says. 

“I know, but you were so darling! I think it may be because you were the right age to really look up to me.”

You don’t know what to do now. Everyone’s been introducing the next person down the line but… 

“Jake,” she says, turning her attention to him. Thank Stendarr. “It’s nice to see you again. How are this year’s new apprentices?” 

“Oh, every class has its quirks. But we’ll get them in tip-top shape in no time!” 

“I have every faith in you and your family. You know, my youngest brother turns fourteen next year. I understand you must be objective in selecting apprentices, but perhaps we can speak about his prospects.” 

“I’d be happy to. Though I’d prefer to talk to the lad too, find out his ambitions and see how he handles himself.” 

“Lovely, we’ll set up a meeting. I’m sure my mother will have an opinion as well.” 

“And your sister?” She asks, looking at Jade.

“Oh, I’m still getting my feet back under me. I only arrived home last week.” 

“Now, I haven’t heard as much about your escapades, Jade.” 

“Well, my adventure didn’t involve dragons.” 

“I see it also involved finding a man, though.” 

“It did! This is Dave, he was instrumental in helping me avoid a proxy civil war in High Rock.” 

“Pleased to meet you,” Dave says with his stupid flawless fancy accent. He bows deeply.

“High Rock? Are you a Breton?” She asks. 

“No,” he says, “I’m a Nord.” 

“Indeed?” 

“It’s a long, sad story.” 

“I’d love to hear it.” 

“Well,” He shifts uncomfortably. “Perhaps suffice it to say my father was a high elf, and my mother was… less than thrilled.” 

“Ah. Yes, say no more. I should have realized, such things often happen in the wake of wars and occupations.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Well,” John’s father says, clapping his hands together, “The Apprentices will be joining us for supper, but we still have a bit of time before that. Now, let’s have some wine, enjoy each other’s company, or perhaps the gardens? They’re starting to be a bit sad, but fall has its own beauty, don’t you think?”

One of the servants, a teenager named Theocus, comes out with a tray laden with pewter wine goblets. John’s father takes the lead, talking about the vintage and this year’s grape harvest and the status of the vineyards here and blah, blah, blah. But still, you’re grateful. If he’s talking, you have less of a chance to say the wrong thing. You need to write to your father. He’ll want to know you’ve overcome your medical inability to shut the fuck up. 

Unfortunately, it gives you time to analyze and over analyze everything you do: your stance, your facial expressions, if you’re drinking enough, if you’re drinking too much. You keep looking to John, and every now and then he gives you a little reassurance: a touch of the arm or a little smile. Maybe being his arm candy isn’t as bad as you thought it would be. At least you can feel confident you look the part. 

You successfully manage to answer a couple of questions when they’re directed at you, mostly about your opinions of the barony, adjusting to Cyrodiil, that type of stuff. You have your canned responses ready, try to make them sound as good as possible. But, good to his word, John takes the lead and directs the conversation whenever it turns to the two of you. Sometimes he’ll prompt you for your input, give you the chance to respond, and then take back over. 

Fortunately (and you’re still not entirely sure how rigid the seating rules are, other than “most important people near the middle”), once you’re seated you have John, his uncle, and his father between yourself and the countess. Even with the music and multiple conversations reverberating through the high-ceilinged stone hall, you’re positive you could make yourself heard, but you have no desire to do so. Instead, you and John mostly wind up talking to Gitmel (who’s technically at the next table, but whatever) about her ongoing research with Ayleid stones. Most of the stuff she talks about with resonances goes over your head, but it’s at least mildly interesting to compare the Aylied with the Dwemer. 

It’s almost… pleasant? Maybe the wine is starting to get to you. It’ll be hard to tell until you stand. The food certainly helps. Marcellia prepares a veritable banquet for everyone on a normal day, and tonight she’s gone all out. You understand now why she called so many of hte apprentices in to help her in the kitchens. She’s made an entire young pig, a capon, several pigeons or some other small birds, and at least three kinds of mutton, on top of intricately woven breads, miscellaneous pies, and more local vegetables than you can hope to identify. She’s even put together a multi-tiered aspic. (You try a little bit and though you’re not a fan you at least appreciate it’s a fancy thing that took a lot of work.) 

But all too soon, dinner is finished. The moment the last of the dishes are brought back to the kitchen, the bards start playing just a little bit louder and a little bit more intensely. A couple of the teenage apprentices are the first to get up and start dancing, then Jade drags Dave out onto the floor. Jake, who had been sitting beside the countess, says something to her and then the two of them are off. You look at John nervously. 

“It’s okay,” he says. “Yanno, if you were actually any good I’d just be dragging you down.” 

You can’t help but laugh at that, as does John’s uncle. Fuck, though, some of the kids are good. Their steps are precise, so fast, and they complement each other perfectly. You sincerely hope these are younger noble children, ones who served as pages or maids only to learn that their real choices in life were legion officer or priest. Honestly, you’ve spent such little time with the apprentices you’re not sure. 

John stands and offers you his hand the way he did in your chambers a few short hours ago. With a deep breath you take it and rise to your feet. Glancing about the hall, you see that no one is really looking at you very closely. Maybe John’s dad and uncle, but everyone dancing is far more interested in their partners. 

It still doesn’t quite feel right, but you have to admit it makes a little more sense in the doublet. Helps you keep your spine straight, anyway. And the softer soles of the fine boots make it easier to keep your steps light and dainty. You hold your own for the first few songs, the old-fashioned processionals and traditional Cyrodilic banquet dances. You’re not great, but neither is John. You’re not the best judge, but either Jake and the countess or those two apprentices who won’t admit they’re dating are probably winning. But you haven’t been told you’re offensively bad, anyway. 

Then the countess breaks away from Jake for a moment and approaches the bards. From where you are you can’t hear what she says, but the music pauses for a moment. The bard playing the harpsichord changes the tempo from a 4/4 to a 3/4. As the flute and lyre rejoin, you realize you recognize the style, light and bouncy and elven. This is an Altmer dance, the one you could never quite get right. You take a step away from John.

“Are you thirsty?” You ask. “I’m thirsty. I’m going to get some wine.” 

“I’m good,” he says.

You give him a sharp look. 

“I’ll come with you, though. Not a bad idea to take a breather.” 

Before you’re even back to your seat, Theocus is there with a pitcher of wine. 

“Take your time,” you murmur to him. 

You’re not the only one who’s bowed out. Most of the apprentices are taking the opportunity to have more water, and many of them are chatting amongst themselves. But that gives the remaining four couples more space. There’s two pairs of apprentices, including the two that started the night, Dave and Jade, and Jake and the countess. 

You hate to admit it, but when done correctly the dance is beautiful. The expressive arm movements almost remind you of Dunmeri folk dances, but combined with the same light stepping of Cyrodilic dances. The couples are arranged in a square, and they begin to switch partners, the leads breaking away to circle one another, then the followers. But they eventually always return to the same base corner, walking in a circle with their palms gently touching. 

When the first song ends, the pair of apprentices that are totally dating go down and join in, apparently gathering up their nerve. There’s a bit of a shakeup in partners, as Dave steps away. You watch him tap his chest, where you know his amulet is hidden, and walk out of the hall. Jade approaches her brother to take his place, and the countess gracefully nods her head and comes back to the table. She takes a few sips of her wine, and then locks her eyes on you. 

She approaches smiling. “John, my dear, you look a bit sad.” 

“Oh, not at all. Just watching.” 

“Do you remember the choreography my father had everyone learn ahead of my wedding?” 

“I think so. It’s been a while, though.” 

“Want to give it a try?” 

He gives you a worried glance. 

You plaster a fake smile on your face. “Go have fun. I’ll be here.” 

“Alright.” He gives your shoulder a little squeeze and then takes her hand the way he took yours. 

The two walk away, speaking too softly for you to hear. She leads him to the center of the room and everyone else seems to give them a little more space. It seems like everyone is watching them. John notices and looks around nervously.

You can almost hear her words when she looks at him gently. “Don’t pay attention to them. Eyes on me.” 

Your stomach clenches and you down your wine. Theocus kind of gives you a look. You glance over to John and the countess. Their eyes are locked, hands lightly touching as they start their dance. Theocus looks at them, back to you, and then shrugs as if to say “fair enough” and refills your goblet. 

The apprentices have all gone to the benches along the edge of the hall, just leavine Jake and Jade and John and the Countess. The choreography is a lot more complicated, and requires all four to coordinate. Each of them stumbles at least once, but it doesn’t seem to matter. They’re smiling and laughing and it ties your stomach in knots. 

When the first song ends. 

The countess laughs and says “Let’s try that again.”

The other three agree. The music starts back up and they try again, this time more assured. Jade is doing this with her brother. It doesn’t mean anything. You know it doesn’t mean anything. And yet… Watching John and the countess look at each other like that. 

It’s around then that Dave comes back. He watches the four of them for a moment, then looks up at you. He walks up along the edge of the hall, staying out of the dancers’ way. 

He plops down in John’s chair. “You know,” he says. “During dinner Liv spent a lot of time asking about the local flavor in Skyrim.” 

“So what? You think they’re just doing that to talk about our trip?” 

“Nah, they’re not talking. I’m thinking that this is 3/4 time. So,” he bows and puts the accent back on, “May I have this dance, Mr. Vantas?” 

You give him a wicked grin. “Oh, Sir Strider, I’d be delighted.” 

He takes you by the hand for real and says, “You can lead since you’re taller.”

Having watched the dance once, you know about how far they go, and that most of the U between the tables is safe. You put your hand on Dave’s hip, he puts his on your shoulder and gives you a twitch of a smile. As you begin to dance with Dave, it’s the most comfortable you’ve felt all night. The upper arms of your shirt are a little tight for this, especially when you help Dave do a spin or two, but you actually feel like you know what you’re fucking doing. 

Before you know it, the song ends. You and Dave stand there, together for a moment, and then over his shoulder you notice everyone looking at the two of you. You turn to look at John and the Countess, and they’re both staring at you utterly gobsmacked. 

You saunter up to the two of them and clear your throat. “Dave told me you were interested in knowing more about Skyrim culture, and thought you might want a demonstration.” 

The countess collects herself quickly. “That was… certainly something. I suppose that’s a folk dance?” 

“As I understand the Jarls do it as well,” John says, “Not that there was much time to attend proper banquets during a war.” 

“Fascinating. Perhaps I should arrange a visit someday,” The countess says. “It is a rather charming dance.” She looks up at John. “So that I’m prepared for such an event, do you think you could teach me?” 

You feel your face fall. 

John shakes his head. “I… Probably wouldn’t be the best teacher. Karkat taught me actually. Him and his friends.”

“Oh, nonsense.” 

“Well, for now, I think I might have been neglecting my fiance a bit too long.” 

“John…” She says, a bit of sharpness in her voice that hadn’t been present before. 

Dave swoops in Jade and Jake in tow. “Hey,” he says, “These two were interested in learning too. Let me show you all at once, let them have their fun.” 

“That’s very kind of you, Sir Strider,” she says. “I’d appreciate your tutelage.” 

You smirk and take John back out onto the floor. 

“Karkat,” He says, voice low and serious. “What are you doing with all this?” 

“Dancing. Showing her I know what I’m doing.” 

“You know most Imperials… think this is too close for dancing.” 

“Most imperials can suck my dick. You brought home a foreign elf, you told me she wants to know about adventures in Skyrim, let’s show her.” 

He sighs. “Karkat, keep it together.” 

“I have it together,” you hiss. 

You see the countess start dancing with Dave. She’s a little uncertain, and it’s always going to be a little awkward because Dave is leading and he’s half a head shorter than her. But she’s catching on quickly. Too quickly for your taste. 

When the song ends, she approaches you. 

“Alright, then,” she says. “Mind if I cut in? I’d love to continue our conversation.”

“Come on,” you growl, your accent slipping. “Can’t you just leave him alone?” 

“Karkat!” John hisses

“Excuse me?” the countess asks. Her tone is still fairly even but you can hear the threat. And you don’t like it.  

“You were on him at the first opportunity and haven’t let up since then! John is my fiance, not yours!” 

Her nostrils flare. “You insult my honor and forget your place.”

You scoff. “Yeah, I think we all fucking know my place. I’m not made for this kind of charade and had no time to learn to bullshit may way through properly, since you gave us less than a fucking week before dropping in! Then you needle me with comments about being cute and quaint and monopolize John’s time all night! I don’t know what your game was, if you were hoping to get a rise out of me to prove I’m not good enough, or if your head is so far up your own ass that you have no idea how to talk to people who don’t bow to your every whim, and at this point, I don’t care.” 

“That’s enough!” John’s father stands. You think this is the first time you’ve heard him raise his voice. It booms through the hall, and you feel an immense weight in your chest as you realize what you’ve done. 

“Fuck.” You whisper. You look back at the countess. Congratulations,” you say. “You win.” 

Before the words even leave your mouth you hate yourself for them. You storm out of the hall before you can make things worse. 

—

You’d say you can’t believe he did that, but you absolutely can. That might be why you’re the first person to stop gawking after Karkat’s outburst. 

“Gods, Liv, I’m so, so sorry. I’m not sure what’s gotten into him! He’s not usually like that!” 

In your mind Miraak scoffs. Sure, you also know it’s a lie, but it’s the one you need to tell. 

Liv just shakes her head. “My… my goodness. I’d always heard tell Dunmer have a fire in them, but that’s just-” She turns to Jake, “Did you hear the way he spoke to me?” 

“I did,” he says. “I, er, think we all did.” 

You think the whole county did. 

“He’s…” You choose your words carefully. “He is a work in progress. Dunmer, especially those in Windhelm, are a proud people, and Karkat is, if nothing else, fiercely loyal.” 

“Loyalty? You tell me about loyalty and he just-” she gestures to the door. 

You’re not sure what to say to that, but by then your father is there. 

“My apologies for his outburst,” he says, “It shall be dealt with.” 

“Wait, what do you mean by that?” You demand. 

He gives you a hard look. 

“Dad, you can’t just- after all we’ve been through!” 

“Well, it is not up to me whether Her Excellency feels it right to forgive him.” 

You turn back to Liv. She’s clearly still reeling from shock, but you’re beginning to see anger creep back in. 

We can stop them both, Miraak says. Make them do whatever you want.

Until the spell fades, then we’re in even deeper shit. 

I’m not proposing using the Shouts. I can perform a very subtle calm spell. 

It won’t work on Dad.

What about her?

We can’t risk it. 

At this point what else is there to risk? 

…You have a point. 

Speak, child, and trust me. 

“I’ll go talk to him,” you say. You can feel a prickling sensation on your tongue, almost like mint, as Miraak works magic into your words. Gods, you hope this works. 

Keep talking. This spell is delicate and precise. It takes time to sink in. Make sure your words would be soothing on their own so that no one suspects a thing. If she knows she’s being manipulated all will be lost. 

“He was wrong to confront you on all counts, but it is true that he has not had much time to learn to behave in high society. It is… a significant drawback to choosing our partners as we do, I’ll admit. But if I remember correctly, my father’s first wife also struggled with etiquette when she first arrived, having grown up in Valenwood, and your parents grew to love her, right?” 

“That is true…” your father admits. He gets a wistful look on his face, and part of you regrets bringing her up but… 

Keep talking! And don’t give them more openings! 

“Karkat is a good person,” You say quickly. Gods, you’re so nervous your accent is slipping a little. But you have to keep pushing. “He’s been working so hard every single day to catch up because he didn’t have the noble education we did. I know he’ll get there. He cares about everything more than anyone I’ve ever met. Sometimes too much, I know, but there are benefits to being that passionate.” You lower your voice, making it almost a whisper. “Gods, Liv, you should have seen the way the people in Windhelm listen to his father, the way his friends listen to him. And I know you’re skeptical about the loyalty right now because his anger was so clearly misplaced, but I know he did that because he cares deeply about me. He doesn’t know you well enough to give you his loyalty yet, but he’ll get there. I know he will.”

Just a little longer, Miraak says. 

“He lost control, and that’s bad. But, Liv, if you wrote off everyone who lost control in front of you, everyone knows I wouldn’t be here today. Please, let me talk to him, give him a chance to apologize and prove himself to you.”

As you speak the last few words, the tingling sensation leaves your tongue, and you think you see a bit of green flash in her eyes. 

It is done.  

Liv looks at your father for a moment. His features are expressionless as usual. 

“Very well,” Liv says. “Once he has calmed down I’ll hear his case.” She glances around, noticing how literally everyone is staring at you. “Perhaps somewhere a little more private? No need to drag this scene out any further than necessary. Go speak to him.” You jump to follow her instructions. “In the meantime, Jack, I’d like your opinion on his prospects.” 

He takes her hand and starts leading her back to the head table. “Karkat is absolutely still rough around the edges, but what John says is true…” 

You close the door before you can hear anything else. 

I can’t believe that worked, you think. 

Why not? Humans are such simple creatures. Noble or peasant, it makes no difference. Elves and the bestial races present a bit more of a challenge, but only a bit. The mind is such a fickle, fragile thing… 

And she won’t know we cast a spell on her?

No. No one will. That’s the beauty of targeted emotional manipulation. But it… takes a lot out of me. I’m going to have to teach you.

We’re not doing it again. 

Of course not… 

He sinks into the back of your mind. 

We did what we had to, you think. I did what I had to. 

You climb the stairs to your chambers. Karkat hasn’t lit any candles, so you cast magelight. You call out for him but get no response. Maybe he’s not up here? Then you open the door to your bedroom. There’s an elf-sized lump under the blankets and you hear sniffing and muffled sobs. It hurts to see him this upset, but you’re relieved he didn’t just run away into the dark somewhere. 

“Hey,” You say softly. 

“Fuck John, I’m sorry. I fucked everything up.”

“It’s gonna be okay. Dad's talking to Liv,” You say, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “He'll smooth it all over. But you’re gonna have to apologize.”

“She started it!” He snarls. “She provoked me, climbing all over you like that!”

“She was a little much tonight,” you admit, gently placing your hand on the lump of blanket containing your fiance. “I’m not sure if she was trying to test you and you took the bait, or if she was just playing around. I should have prepared you for it better, but that kind of flirting is all just a game. It doesn’t mean anything to anyone. Liv loves… okay, I don’t actually know how much she loves her husband, but she’s completely loyal to him, and I love you.” 

“Then why?” 

“I don’t know. That’s just how it’s done. I know you don’t know all the rules yet. If anyone was expecting you to have all of them it’d be a massive dick move. But at the same time, you did… kinda overreact. Like a lot. You can’t just shout at a countess like that. Especially not your countess.” 

“It’s fucking bullshit,” he says, poking his head out. “So she’s just allowed to say whatever the fuck she wants and I have to take it?” 

“I mean, kinda?” 

“It’s not right!”

“I know. But it's not about being right.” You smile sadly down at him. “It's about convincing more powerful people that you're not a threat.” 

“Why would I want to do that?!” Karkat snaps. “I was supposed to get her to take me seriously, not make her think we’re her playthings!” 

You sigh. “We can't fight every battle. At least not on this level. The cost is too high.”

“So we just let her push us around?”

“Only when it doesn't matter.”

Karkat looks at you incredulously. “How the fuck doesn’t this matter?” 

“Because this is just a social call. Who cares if you look stupid or she thinks of you as a toy or a pet or whatever as long as when push comes to shove she'll fight for us? If she wanted she could revoke our title, expose us as daedra worshipers, do anything she wanted. But she doesn't, because she likes us.” 

“For fuck's sake, though, can't she give us a fucking ounce of respect?” 

You stand. “I… I'm sorry.” 

“You’re sorry?” He asks. “For what?” 

You walk over to one of the tapestries and begin playing the the fringe. “I- I knew you were stressed. You hadn't been acting like yourself. You were barely swearing, forcing this fake smile all the time.” You glance back at him and he’s got his eyebrows lightly furrowed, a small pout on his lips. He’s listening. “I knew that, so I tried to help you relax earlier. And I knew it wasn’t enough the second dinner started, but I kept telling Liv whatever she wanted to hear anyway. I pushed you too far.” 

“John, you-” Then he cuts himself off and his face hardens. “Wait, fuck, you're doing it now, arent you!?” 

“This isn’t the same.” You say. 

“It absolutely is! I see you do this all the time: you pretend to be dumb and friendly to soothe the situation when people get pissed.” 

“I don't do it to everyone, Karkat.” You go back to the bed and try to take his hand but he pulls it away. “I don't do it to people I trust. You know me.” 

“I thought I did.”

He might as well have reached right through your ribs and crushed your heart. “I've shown you everything. You've been in my soul. I've been in yours. What more can you want?!”  

“I don’t know!” He shouts. Then he wraps his arms around his knees and looks down. “I don’t know.” He repeats. He sniffles and you see candle light reflect off of the tears in the corners of his eyes “I want to be good enough for you. But good enough isn’t good enough. I’m the half-breed son of a disgraced spy and an adultress. I’d have to be perfect, better than perfect just to make up for the crime of being me.”

“That’s not true.” 

“It is, though. Your uncle told me.” 

“He did what?!” you demand.  

“Well…” he shifts uncomfortably. “Not in as many words but… it felt pretty clear. I had to shape up, I had to have her accept me, or you’d have to find someone else. This was my only chance.” 

You feel your heart plunge into your stomach. 

“No.” You say, standing. 

“No?” He looks up at you in confusion. “But you said it yourself-” 

“It was going to be. But I talked her into giving you another shot.” 

“Really? How? After I-” 

“I… Can be persuasive. And I know the rules.” 

“What, did you bat your eyelashes at her some more?” he snaps. 

“It wasn’t flirty, actually. Just… said the right things the right way, I guess.”

He looks at you curiously. You have to press on. 

“We still need to impress her tonight, but the night isn’t over.  Let’s get you cleaned up. We’re going downstairs.” 

—

The countess waits for you in the trophy room. She stands with her arms crossed squarely behind her back, staring into the fire burning on the far side of the room. John’s ancestors look down at you from their portraits above her. You’re not sure if it’s your nerves or how thin the line between worlds is tonight, but you feel them judging you. You glance over to the first portrait, Colonel Sassacre… Sheogorath. You already have his blessing, but how much does that really help? 

“Liv,” John says firmly. He has his shoulders squared and is standing at his full height. “Thank you for waiting for us.”

She glances over at the two of you. John is head and shoulders taller than her, but she’s utterly unintimidated. “I find it prudent to hear my vassals out, at least. Whether or not I take their positions is another matter.” 

“I understand.” John replies. “But I was not thinking of this as a negotiation.” 

“What is it then?” She asks sharply. 

“I’ve come to apologize,” you say, putting on your best accent. 

“Indeed,” she replies. Her tone is flat, disbelieving. “Please take a seat.” She gestures to the two large armchairs facing the fireplace. 

You look at John. He silently nods and you sit before speaking. 

“I… allowed my anger to get the better of me and acted without thinking. In doing so I insulted you, and for that I’m deeply sorry. It was a poor first impression, to say the least.” 

John gives you an approving smile. 

“That it was,” the countess says. “And among higher nobility, first impressions are everything. What if I had been the emperor?” 

“I’m not asking for your approval,” you say. “Not yet, anyhow. I just… Please give me another chance.” 

She turns and appraises you, her pale blue eyes, which looked at you and John so kindly mere hours ago, tear into you like an ice wraith’s bite. You’ve combed your hair back down, straightened your clothes perfectly. You’d hold your own in a Tribunal delegation, and you know it. At least until you opened your mouth. 

“How long have you been here?” 

“Since Last Seed,” You reply. “Most of my training has been in local history and administration. The plan was to pivot to etiquette after Sir Joel evaluated my ability to serve as John’s right hand. We… were anticipating more time before I met you.” 

“Liv,” John says, dropping the formal accent. “You’ve known me since I was seven. You know that I know how to play the game. And I believe in Karkat. Out of everyone I met, there’s no one I’d rather work with. He’s who I want.” 

“Love is blind, John,” she says. 

“But I’m not. And I’m not a kid anymore either. At some point, you’re going to need to trust me to make major decisions. You weren’t in Skyrim. You didn’t see the way he brought people together. The way he fought tooth and nail to save everyone. He had a way out multiple times and he never took it.” 

She looks directly at you. “He could be playing a long game.” 

“I’m not!” You insist. 

“John’s already said his piece on your behalf. Twice now. As did his father and uncle. But I need you to prove the value in those words. Convince me.” 

You start to snap back, but kill the words before they leave your throat. 

“No,” she says. “Say it.” 

You take a deep breath. “If… If I was just in this for the money or status, why would I have called you out in front of everyone? If I didn’t care about John, it would have been easy to sit back and watch you two together. But I just- I couldn’t.” 

“John?” She says. 

“Yes?” 

“Leave.” 

“But I-” 

“Go. It is nearly midnight, and I believe you have a ritual to perform.” 

He looks at you with concern clear on his face, but you nod at him. 

“Alright,” he says. He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze and then leaves the office, closing the door behind him. 

“You understand that behaving like you did tonight is unacceptable, yes?” 

“I do. Which is why I came to apologize.”

“Then why do it? Why jeopardize your status?”

“I… I was jealous,” You admit.  

“Of what?” 

“John… when he was younger he used to like you. He told me a long time ago. And then seeing you tonight, without understanding the nuances and particularities of courtly interactions, I misunderstood both of your intents. I felt jealous and let it get the better of me. I am working on my temper.”

“Indeed. You, Karkat Vantas, are an unsophisticated brute without the first concept of deference or decorum.” You wince. “And I can work with that. The only thing I truly require from my vassals is loyalty. I need to know above all else that I can trust you. You’ve certainly won over the Egbert family. After you left, John spoke quite passionately in your favor, and Jack and Joel both spoke quite highly of your abilities and character.” 

“They did?” You ask. “Like, Joel specifically?” 

“This is a surprise to you?” She asks. 

“Er…” You snap back into formal mode. “He has very high standards. And I know I still have much to learn.”

“I see. But that does not answer the primary question.” She turns sharply and marches towards you, bending down so your eyes lock. “Can I trust you, Mr. Vantas?” 

“Yes.” 

“Good.” She sits in the chair beside you. “So, then, while the Egberts channel a dark god, tell me your story. Omit nothing of importance, no matter how it makes you look. After that, I will tell you how you can best be of use to my county. And keep trying with the accent. The practice can only help.” 

—

End notes:

So I spent like 2 days doing research on specifically 1400s-ish banquets and feasts to write like 2 paragraphs of details. I then spent a further 2 days researching what went into managing a barony in the later medieval and early modern periods. Like a lot of history, the answer is “idk, it depends *shrug emoji.*” A lot of the sources are about England and France, which the Empire is probably closer to politically, but the climate is all over the place and the names are certainly Latin/Italian inspired. Given its proximity to Hammerfell and being at the foot of the mountains, I’m giving Battlehorn a Near East adjacent climate, but historically that area has a very different culture and style to what appears in Cyrodiil so this is a case of having done a good chunk of research and then deciding to mostly throw it out the window. 

 A lot of the political background details I’m saving for if they become relevant later (like, for example, the 50-odd townspeople I have now named and given life stories), but some of the feast stuff was kind of interesting, so I thought I’d include some historical notes here. 

While I’m using banquet and feast interchangeably, there was usually some sort of difference with the former being fancier occasions. But regardless, the tables would be arranged in a U with everyone seated around the outside so that servants could bring things and take it away more easily (I was not able to confirm, but part of me wonders if this is why everyone is on the one side of the table in the Last Supper painting). In the earlier medieval era, food would be served on bread trenchers to sop up juice. However, by the early modern period, these had mostly been replaced by flat wooden trenchers, which is closer to what we see in the Elder Scrolls games. Music would be playing the whole time, and dancing was a must. 

It turns out that there’s actually a lot we know about formal dancing during the Renaissance, since a lot of kings and dukes and such employed dance masters to teach courtiers more complex choreography, and some of these masters wrote and sold dance books (Some of the more prosperous counts and countesses in Cyrodiil probably do this, but the Egberts certainly would not). There were some processionals (think like two lines approaching each other and walking back), but they were somewhat old fashioned by that point. To the modern eye, a lot of the popular dances look really goofy. Because of how stiff the clothing was in the upper body (think like Elizabethan ruffled collars), there wasn’t much movement in the upper body, but a lot of prancing and jumping. (Eventually, these would develop into ballet). By the mid 1600s, minuets had become dominant in England and France, and I like to think that maybe this is a Altmer dance that’s become more popular in Cyrodiil since the Aldmeri Dominion’s influence has grown and a lot of Cyrodiilic nobles try to suck up to them. People Jake’s age are probably the oldest to have learned it, but by the time John was growing up, they were standard. 

Waltzes are kind of a weird case. It seems they were invented near Vienna in the 13th century, but it took 600 years for them to make their way to England. In the 1800s when they first showed up, many of the upper crust thought it was scandalous, due to how close the man and woman were. I was purposefully vague on how Nordic dancing worked in the original Skyrim Johnkat, but I’m giving this to the Nords, somewhat arbitrarily but also because it worked and, like I said, we’re playing fast and loose with historical inspirations. Just about everyone who lives in Skyrim adapted the waltz fairly quickly because (just like in real life) any excuse to be good to your cute dance partner is a good excuse. (Also, Nords and Dunmer are somewhat used to sharing dances, as both traditionally practice forms of circle dance, and while the forms are distinct, they share centuries of cultural exchange and adaptation, dating back to before the eruption of Red Mountain). At this point, the Imperials consider the Waltzes to be a northern folk dance, much like Dunmeri and Nordic circle dancing. And while it is viewed as more graceful and refined than the circle dancing, it’s also more scandalous. 

But it could be worse, it could be Redguard dancing, which is normally done like a competition between two individuals or groups, and tends to feature stomps or otherwise firmer leg movements and very expressive and often quick movements in the upper torso. Because it is, in many ways, the opposite of the primary form of court dancing, most nobles consider it to be incredibly base. It is, however, the primary form of dancing enjoyed by the Battlehorn peasants, along with Colovian folk dancing, which is similar but does not involve as strong stances and often has slightly smaller hand movements. (Having spent most of his life in Battlehorn and taking part in folk celebrations, these are the forms of dancing John is more comfortable and skilled in. That and the wide, strong stances are closer to how he’s used to moving his body for combat training). 

[secretly-a-catamount]

Rowenas If I fall . . .?

Waysa: I’ll be there to catch you.

Serafina: *looks at Braeden* What if I fall?

Braeden: Then I’ll fall with you, never leaving your side.

Jess: *watches these two interactions*

Jess, to Essie: And if I fall . . .?

Essie: I’ll be the one who pushed you.

—————————————-

Serafina: Braeden is too tall for me to kiss them on the lips. What should I do?

Jess: Punch them in the stomach. Then, when he doubles over in pain, kiss him.

Rowena: Tackle him.

Essie: Dump him.

Waysa: Kick him in the shin!

Braeden: No to all of those! Just ask me to lean down!

—————————————

*The Squad's reaction to being told they're the chosen one*

Serafina: I will not let you down.

Braeden, mustering enthusiasm: Sounds fun.

Waysa: No, I'm not.

Jess: Please god, I am so tired.

Essie: Do I have to be?

Rowena: I’m the villain.

———————————————

*The Squad when asked about their earlier confession of love*

Jess: Yeah, you're lucky. I like you.

Essie: I'd understand if you didn't feel the same way . . .

Braeden: *has a panic attack* What confession?

Serafina: *winks* I know, babe. You like me too.

Waysa: So what? Are you going to date me or not?

Rowena: It was a dare.

——————————

Jess: Stressed.

Waysa: Depressed.

Rowena: Possessed.

Essie: Obsessed.

Braeden: Impressed.

Serafina: Chicken breast.

Everyone: ...What?

Serafina: I just wanted to join in.

————————————-

Jess: If you put 'violently' in front of anything to describe your action, it becomes funnier.

Jess: Violently practices.

Rowena: Violently studies.

Waysa: Violently sleeps.

Waysa: Violently shoots pictures.

Essie: Violently boxes.

Serafina: Violently murders people.

Braeden: Violently worries about the previous statement.

——————————-

*after the Squad has been separated for a few years*

Waysa: So what have you been up to recently? Braeden: Leading a revolution with Serafina.

Waysa: Good for you two! Me, I've joined the mob.

Braeden: *nods* Oh, how cool! That's awesome!

Waysa: I know! Anyway, have you heard from the others? Rowena?

Braeden: Happily living as a hermit in the woods. Essie?

Waysa: Wrongfully locked up in an asylum, which reminds me, we need to break them out later. Jess?

Braeden: Cult leader.

Waysa: Yeah, that sounds about right.

——————————-

Jess: Imagine if someone handed you a box full of all the things you lost throughout your life.

Serafina: It would be nice to have my sense of purpose back . . .

Braeden: Oh wow, my childhood innocence! Thank you for finding this.

Waysa: My will to live! I haven't seen this in years.

Essie: I knew I lost that potential somewhere.

Rowena: Mental stability, my old friend!

Jess: Goodness, could you guys lighten up a little?

——————————-

Serafina, to the Squad: I’d die for you.

Jess: Then perish.

Rowena: You will.

Waysa: Please don’t.

Essie: Cool.

Braeden: I’d die for you first, Serafina.

[strawberrychz]

heyy! can i request douma with the reader who's muzan's daughter pls? i can be fluff hahah like just douma being a simp for her or something like that... thank u!!

༄ 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀: 𝖽𝗈𝗎𝗆𝖺 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

༄ 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: ... 𝖽𝗈𝗎𝗆𝖺

༄ 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: 𝗂𝗆 𝖺 𝖻𝗂𝗀 𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝗌𝗂𝗆𝗉 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗇,, 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖺y.

- DOUMA

༄ douma has grown so used to being worshipped by others that the idea of idolizing someone else other than muzan was impossible.

༄ it was love at first sight truly. there was just something about you that intrigued him, piqued his curiosity— made him feel something that he’s never felt in his life. it’s been driving him to get your attention since the first second muzan introduced you to the upper and lower moons.

༄ he wasn’t so sure what caught his attention in the first place; was it because you were muzans daughter? maybe you were powerful? or perhaps, you were just pleasing to the eye. regardless, it only motivates him to get to know you more.

༄ however, a certain event truly makes him fall for you, hearts forming in his eyes as his heart beats for the first time in his life. while everyone refused to acknowledge his existence, already avoiding him like the plague once the meeting was over, you greeted him politely and sat by his side, initiating a conversation with him.

༄ no one’s ever done that with him before!! especially not willingly. he gets all emotional when you do stay back to accompany him for a few moments, attentively contributing to the conversation and keeping a kind smile throughout it all. once you excuse yourself, his eyes follow you, a huge part of himself already attached to the attention you’ve given him.

༄ after that fateful moment, he had dedicated a good portion of his time trying to win your attention and love in the most annoying yet adorable ways possible. it’d be a daily occurrence, really. with a low curse, muzan would regret introducing his daughter around the twelve kizukis in the first place, not considering the consequences of his actions.

༄ almost like a lost puppy, he’d follow you around as much as he could, skipping behind you happily with the biggest smile on his face. when you’re both together, he’d often bombard you with endless questions about your life or complain about futile matters regarding other people or events.

༄ most of the time, he’s extremely affectionate, shamelessly clinging onto you without ever considering the fact that your dad could literally kill him at any given moment. hugs over your shoulders, pats on the head, him laying on your lap, holding your hand as you both walk together, leaning on your shoulder, and so on.

༄ though the other upper moons respect you just as much as they do with the king of demons, often bowing whenever they see you and addressing you in the most formal way possible, douma has his own way of respecting you. he talks so casually with you, it often earns him a series of consequences from scoldings to full on injuries from muzan and the rest of the upper moons. he doesn’t mind too much though, knowing that your smiling face will make him feel much better.

༄ whenever he sees you during a meeting, he yells from the top of his lungs to get your attention, waving his hand in a comical manner; “hi (y/n)-chan!! you look stunning as usual!!” muzans eye twitches as he sends a venomous glare his way, though it leaves the second upper moon unfazed as he lets out a playful giggle. you wave at him secretly with a smile and he sighs lovingly, not caring if he was threatened moments before.

༄ super fucking annoying when you’re gone. he’s grown so attached to you that whenever you’re not around, he ends up whining to the other upper moons about anything and everything he can. “(y/n)-chan’s been gone for too lonnng! i’m gonna die if she doesn’t come back soon.”

༄ this earns him a strike from akaza, who yells at him in frustration as he sends an attack his way; “stop addressing muzan-sama’s daughter so casually! have some respect!” when he regenerates, he huffs childishly and folds his arms with a pout, only angering the upper moon three in ways he didn’t know was possible. “whatever, you’re just jealous she likes me more.”

༄ also has a hard time detaching himself from you when you both are together. he can spend days — hell, even eternity — with you without ever having a complaint but when you end your shared time together, he gets all fussy about it. “do you really have to go? you can stay here with me!” he’d try to convince you to stay back, and though sometimes you fall for it, most times you’re required to go. with that, he sighs in defeat and tears up, though it’s alligator tears half the time, looking up at you with puppy eyes; “promise me you’ll come back to visit!”

༄ though muzan often grows impatient and irate by doumas behavior, knowing he could just make his upper moon two vanish with just a single snap, he holds back. in the end, he has no bad intentions towards you and despite his very clingy and childish attitude, you seem to enjoy his company. at least he knows you’re with someone who serves as one of his most trusted demons. douma is also one full of strength, hence his position, so muzan is aware that he’ll be able to protect you.

[pellucid-constellations]

Hiiii!

I read your fic "Voicemails to an Unmanned Inbox" and I wanted to ask you if you could write an alternate ending where it doesn't end happily? Like something happens to the reader? Thank u;)💖

Voicemails to an Unmanned Inbox (alternative ending) 

Summary: This is an alternate ending to this fic, beginning at the voicemails Bucky leaves the reader after a fight. This can be read on its own. 

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: Heavy angst, death

a/n: Dang when you want angst, you want ANGST. This was painful to write, not gonna lie. 

Masterlist

He gave it about 5 minutes of staring blankly at his phone before he called again. And again. And again. Each voicemail he left was more desperate than the last, fear building in his chest with each one. 

“I know callin’ you again probably won’t do anything, but it's worth a shot, right? If you answer, I promise I won’t say anything. You can scream at me for however long you want and I’ll sit here and take it. Come on, sweetheart, you gonna pass up on a deal like that?” 

“Just give me anything to let me know you’re safe. Send me a text? Or whatever those things are called. I know I said not to text because I don’t understand it, but I’ll take anything you’ll give me. Please, baby, you got me beggin’ over here.” 

“Stevie said I should give you some space, and I’m more than willing. Just—I just need to know you’re safe. You can stay as far away from me as you want, sweetheart, but please at least call Nat. Tell her you’re okay. She hates me, so you can guarantee she won’t tell me where you are.”

“Shit, it’s raining. Call me back.” 

“Is this you leaving me? Please, don’t do this. I love you. I’d do anything to take back what I said, just please don’t do this.” 

Eventually, the phone stopped ringing, each call from Bucky immediately met by the answering machine. He found himself missing the shrill, monotone beeps; they meant there was a chance you would pick up. 

“Did your phone just die? God, I hope not. I got Tony tryna track your phone, but no luck. You pull the tracker out or somethin’?” 

“You’re tearin’ my heart out, sweetheart, I’m freaking out without you here. I know I messed up, but I need you. I need you to tell me when I’m wrong and when I’m bein’ stupid like how I was today. I need you to hold my hand and force me to take those meditation classes for my heart health or whatever you said it was for. I need—” he took a breath, tears falling down his face for the first time that night. “I need you here, loving me. Because that’s the only time I feel like Bucky. The only time I feel like me. Please, baby, let me—” 

“The mailbox is full and cannot accept any messages at this time, goodbye.” The call ended abruptly. Bucky called back, one last time, but was met with the same message. 

He stared down at his phone and contemplated chucking it at the wall. Was this really it? Had he screwed up so badly that you didn’t want him anymore? Or worse, were you hurt somewhere? Unable to pick up the phone because Bucky had forced you out of the safety of your bedroom. 

Bucky was pulled from his thoughts by a vibration in his hands. Looking down, he almost didn’t believe his phone is ringing, somehow drawn to the conclusion that the stupid thing didn’t work at this point. But the screen clearly read some number he’s never seen before, and the vibrations were strong in his hand. Expecting the worst, he lifted it to his ear.

“Hello?” His voice was hoarse from overuse. 

“Hello, is this James Barnes?” 

“Who’s askin’?'' Bucky responded, already irritated that it wasn’t you on the other end of the call. 

“My name is Doctor Stevenson. I’m calling from the Albany Medical Center Hospital.” It was as if all of the air had been sucked out of the room as Bucky waited for the man to continue. “I’m calling about Ms. Y/l/n?” Bucky stopped breathing. 

“Is she okay?” He was frantic now, running around the room to find his shoes. He didn’t waste time putting them on, opting to carry them as he ran down the hall. 

“Can you confirm that I am speaking to Mr. Barnes? This is sensitive information that I should only be sharing with an emergency contact,” the man probed. 

“Yes! Yes, this is Bucky! I mean this is Mr. Barnes. My birthday is March 10th, 1917.” Bucky was getting angry; his bare feet slammed into the ground of the compound as he rushed to get to you. 

“1917? Let me double check my records one more—” 

“I swear to god if you don’t tell me if my girl’s okay, you’re gonna wish you never told me what hospital you’re at,” Bucky seethed. The doctor stuttered over the phone. 

“I—well I’m afraid I have some bad news.” Bucky stopped then, leaving a dent in the wall by the elevator as his left arm made brutal contact, his momentum impossible to control. 

“What?” He sounded destroyed. 

“Do you need a moment, Mr. Barnes? It may be beneficial to sit down or—” 

“Just tell me. Tell me my girl’s okay,” he begged. There was a long pause on the other end. 

“I’m sorry to inform you that Ms. Y/l/n was in an accident. She was brought to our hospital, but she passed moments after arriving. I am so, terribly sorry Mr. Barnes.” The sound of Bucky’s shoes hitting the ground was lost to his ears, his heartbeat so incredibly loud in his head. 

It was as if his world was tilted. As if the axis that kept him spinning in place was just shot out from under him. You were his axis, and now you were gone, leaving him to spin out relentlessly into a cruel, unkind reality.  

“No,” he choked out, utter disbelief replacing any irritation at the doctor's previous hesitance. “You’re lying—youre—you’ve got the wrong girl, right? Not my y/n. She—she loves me. She chose me.”

His lips were dry and his throat hurt. He felt like he’d been screaming down a void. The pressure that had been building up in his chest the moment you left the room was mercilessly crushing him now. He reached out to pull at his shirt, desperate to relieve the ache. 

“I am very sorry for your loss, Mr. Barnes. Her identity was confirmed by the police upon her admittance. Would you like to come and say goodbye? We can keep her here on the unit if you’d like? Anything to make this easier on you.” Bucky couldn’t take the remorse in the doctor’s tone. 

“No. No, you’re wrong. Because if she’s gone then I can’t tell her—I have to tell her,” he slid down the broken wall, the front of his shirt ripping from how hard he was pulling at his chest. “I need to tell her I love her. I didn’t get to tell her.” 

Bucky didn’t get to hear the doctor’s response, the phone slipping from his hand with a violent sob. His metal fingers left indents in the hardwood floor as he pressed against it, heavy tears streaming down his upturned face. 

He wasn’t sure if he could handle this type of pain. When it was physical, Bucky could pinpoint its location like his body was a map. A broken leg was localized, manageable. But this? This pain consumed his entire being. It hurt so deep that it set into every one of his bones and pulled at his nerves. How could he do this without you? How could he live with the regret of his parting words? 

He couldn’t. He absolutely couldn’t come to terms that this was his reality now. A reality without your soothing words and kind touches. Without the one person who saw him fully and still accepted who he was. Who didn’t ask him to change but instead asked him to embrace every part of him, even the small, angry parts that he hid behind masks and agreeable words. 

Steve found Bucky some time later, huddled on the ground with pieces of drywall surrounding him. He was unresponsive, but Steve could gather what had happened by the look on his face. It took many long moments of coaxing before he could get his best friend standing. 

Bucky wouldn’t go back to therapy, not at first. He knew they would ask about you, and he found himself reluctant to speak your name out loud. After a month of no shows, a small box from his therapist landed in front of his door, your phone inside. Bucky had assumed it was with you when you crashed, lost on the road somewhere or crushed in a ditch. He picked it up and held it to his ear, a voicemail ringing through the speakers. 

“I know callin’ you again probably won’t do anything, but it's worth a shot, right?”

[lesbian-deadpool]

Meeting In Autumn

Modern AU

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Words: 1,626

Warnings: None. It’s so fucking fluffy.

Request: Nope.

Summary: You did not expect your day to go like this when you took your dog for a walk.

Ko-Fi

Commissions

(Not My GIF)

---

Yellow.

Red.

Brown.

And gold.

Various shades of those colours floated around on the frosty autumn day before landing in a crunchy heap on the floor.

And those were the lucky ones.

They had narrowly missed the beast snapping its drool-covered jowls at them. Hoping to ensnare them before their remains were inevitably flung to the ground beside their brethren.

An onlooker, watching on, in sick amusement.

That onlooker being you.

Breathy laughs poured from deep in your chest, eyes secure upon your playing dog, trying to catch the falling leaves. Jumping up high into the sky to reach them before they could get closer to her level, pants sounding through the air, light coughs coming from her as she shook the dead leaves from her jaws.

"Your dog's cute."

Looking over your shoulder at the new presence coming up beside you.

You inhaled deeply at the sight of her, the shade of her auburn hair rivalling the dark red tones of the falling leaves, it shining mutedly under the cold sun. Leather jacket drawn over her shoulders, the attached belt tied around her waist, with her hands in her pockets.

But you were absolutely captivated by her eyes.

The green reminding you of the trees, in this very same park, during the summer. Sparkling like the frost-covered blades of grass under the autumn sun.

"Thanks." You smiled at the beautiful stranger. "She's an idiot."

"Aren't all animals at heart?"

"Well, you got me there."

You then whistled for your dog to come back to you, which she did obediently. Stopping by your feet, butt wiggling with the power of her shaking tail, as she sat looking up at you lovingly.

"She adores you," You threw the woman another smile before looking back down at your pet, scratching behind her pointed ear. "Can I?" she then asked, gesturing to the dog.

"Of course."

You watched as the red-headed stranger crouched before your German Shepard, rubbing her cheeks lovingly while cooing cute little praises to the girl.

That may just have been the most adorable thing you have ever been seen.

"What's her name?"

"Lasher."

She looked up at you then, bare hands still deep within the animal's fur, brows furrowed and a curious look within her eyes.

"Lasher? What a unique name."

"She's adopted. I didn't name her," you explained as you clasped the lead onto her collar.

The woman raised to her feet within an, "Oh."

"Y/N," you told her, offering your hand for her to shake.

"Natasha."

"Well, Natasha," you began, "Would you like to grab a cup of coffee with Lasher and I?"

"I'd love to."

It was when you were walking side by side heading towards the nearest, family-run coffee shop when you offered her the lead. Natasha took it with a bright smile.

"What's this for?"

"I guess I'm just used to it." You shrugged but happily explained when you spotted her confused look. "Whenever I'm walking Lasher with my friends or family, I always let them walk her."

"That's so sweet."

You smiled brightly. "It always makes them happy, so."

And that only further solidified Natasha's point in her mind.

"She's so well behaved," the red-head said next, watching as Lasher obediently walked beside her.

"Well, she's an ex-military dog. She's perfectly trained. She got shot. Nobody expected her to live longer than a year when I adopted her. That was three years ago. She made a full recovery within months."

Natasha could feel her heart swelling from your acts of care and kindness. The fact that you would adopt a dog that everyone thought would die not long after, but still wanted to give her the best life you could, made her swoon, even if she had only met you just five minutes ago.

It wasn't long before you arrived at the coffee shop. Telling Natasha to take a seat under the canopy with Lasher, considering you couldn't take her in with you while you got your drinks.

She had been waiting for only a few minutes, with the dogs head lying upon her lap, looking up at her with adoring eyes, as the red-head brushed her fingers through Lasher's fur. When a woman at a nearby table called over to her.

"Your dog's beautiful."

"Oh, she's not-" Natasha began to wave her off when you walked over, pulling out the chair across from her.

"They're gonna bring our drinks out in a few minutes," you said, sliding a plate of gingerbread cookies between the two of you, waving your hand to them, letting her know she was free to take some if she liked.

"You two are a very cute couple," the same woman as before said.

"Uh, we're no-"

"Thank you," Natasha interrupted, reaching over to grab the hand you had resting on the table. Shooting you a quick wink that the stranger couldn't see, mutedly telling you to play along.

"Yeah," you looked over to her, "Thank you." She nodded, returning her attention to the friends she was sitting with.

You moved your free arm from the table, clearing the space for the teenage buy placing your steaming mugs in front of you and the red-head. And a metal bowl filled with milk on the ground in front of Lasher.

"Thank you," you and Natasha said at the same time, your dog showing her thanks by quickly lapping up the milk.

"I'm glad you didn't try to run off with my dog while I was in there."

Natasha giggled, sprinkling a pink sugar packet into her spiced drink before stirring it.

"Well, she s perfect, so I won't say the thought never crossed my mind."

You laughed this time. Catching the woman looking at you over the cup she held in her hands, blowing softly into her drink before taking a sip out of the corner of your eye. As you prepare your hot drink just the way you like it.

"Good to know I need to watch out for you." You beamed at her, staring into her green eyes. "So, Natasha. What do you do?"

You had spent the whole day with the woman.

Or so, that's what it felt like.

When in reality, it was only around five hours.

But with the November sun setting earlier than you were used to, making time feel almost warped.

The air growing colder, biting at your showing skin.

It was only when a small shiver ran through the red-head, one that she tried to hide, did you take pause in your place on the sidewalk. Quickly remove the scarf that sat around your neck, looping it around itself and tying it so that it would contain more heat. Swiftly removing it, then placing it over Natasha's head, surprising the girl slightly.

Natasha gave you a warm smile as you walked beside her once again, pushing your hand's into your tan borg-lined corduroy jacket.

"Won't you be cold?"

You hummed in question. "No, I'll be fine. I can handle the cold pretty well."

"Thank you," she almost whispered.

"You're very welcome."

Soon enough, you had reached your destination before. A, mostly lit up, suburban house.

"Thanks for walking me home," Natasha said, handing you the lead beak, before bending low to be face to face with your dog, speaking in a sweet voice, "And thank you too, sweet girl."

"It's no problem," you replied, watching as she raised to her full height and looked at you intently, "We wouldn't have done anything else."

Suddenly, the air was filled with small high-pitched whines, directing both of your attention's to the sad dog sitting by your side.

"She's gonna miss you."

Natasha cooed, her heartbreaking for the crying animal, as she reached down to pet her once more. Hoping to soothe her sadness.

"Here." you handed her a small card you had just pulled from your pocket, one with your number on.

"What's this?"

"My number. You can call me and see her anything you want."

"Only Lasher?" she asked a warm half-smile pulling at the corner of her lips, shoulder's dancing side to side.

"Well, maybe me, too."

Natasha smiled, about to rear back and step into her temporary home, when she remembered the garment around her neck.

"Oh!" she called, surprised, reaching to pull it over her head before you stopped her.

"Don't. You keep it for a while. That way we have more of a solid reason to see each other again."

She bit her lip for a moment, her voice coming out softly, taking on a slightly deeper tone, "Thank you for a lovely day."

"And thank you."

"I'll see you around, Y/N."

You gave her a single nod, expecting her to begin walking to the house behind her. But instead were surprised when she grabbed the collar of your warm jacket, pulling you down for a soft, care filled kiss. Pulling back with a small pop, Natasha looked you up and down as you stared at her with slightly parted lips, uttering a single husky "bye", then walked away.

You stayed there, watching her enter her house, then starting to make your own way home. But not before you leaned down, hooking your palm under Lasher's muzzle, rubbing your thumb into her soft fur, speaking to her in a praising tone, "Thank you for being such a good wingman."

Little did you know Natasha had her back pressed up against the metal, blissful smile pulling at her lips. Images of you and the day you had shared together along with your adorable dog, flashing through her mind.

However, she was interrupted soon enough.

By none other than her blonde-haired sister.

"What's up with you, beamy?"

The red-head sighed dreamily, meeting Yelena's eyes.

"I met someone."

---

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[kairakeiji]

die for you | hanma shuji

pairing: hanma shuji x reader

tags: established relationship, fluff...yeah you’re both running away

word count: 2.0k

for @sakusins - the plot feels like a cop out bc i know your whole love story with him is running away, but i still hope you like it lmaoo happy valentines darling i adore you <33

it’s two twenty two in the morning when hanma’s helping you sneak out of your bedroom window.

you check the clock in the spur of the moment, a bag in your hand full of all your essentials, stuff you deem absolutely necessary to survive. hanma’s got a bag of your stuff slung over his shoulders as his legs swing over the window, a smile on his face and adrenaline coursing through his veins.

despite living in this house all your life, despite sleeping and spending most of your days in this small room, it feels so easy to leave. you take one look back at your bedroom, the stack of books right next to your desk, the pictures of you and your friends hanging on your wall, you’ll come back for them, after all the lock on your window was broken. it had been broken since hanma snuck into your room for the first time, you smile as you recall the moment, scolding him before he peppered your face with kisses and fell asleep in your arms. you two went to extreme lengths just to see each other. with life circumstances, and strict parents you both found yourselves bending over backward just to spare a moment together.

but now it felt as you had all the time in the world.

it was two twenty two in the morning when you closed your bedroom window for the final time and climbed off the roof of your house to run away with hanma.

there wasn’t a single ounce of regret in your system.

“oh my god,” you laugh breathlessly as you both run to your boyfriend’s car hand in hand. “my parents are gonna kill me, they’re gonna kill you and then they’re gonna kill me.”

“i’d like to see them try,” he scoffs, stopping in his tracks and pulling you into his arms. “you’re all mine,” he smiles. “nothing can take you away from me now.” there’s a rush that comes when your lips meet his as you both stand on the driveway of your house, a kiss that reminds you that he loves you and that you love him, that this was the right decision, that this was the choice you wanted to make. you pull away with a smile before he’s crashing his lips into yours again. after months of sneaking in and out of your window, hanma didn’t need to rush, he didn’t need to hide from your parents who clearly despised him. he could love you fully, he could give you all of him.

and he didn’t want to wait another second.

hanma’s going twenty miles over the speed limit when your laughter rings through his car. the windows are down, your hair’s a mess, yet he thinks you look absolutely beautiful. there’s no set destination, neither of you know where you’re going to end up, yet he continues to drive, he’ll drive until you tell him to stop. even if the cops were on his tail, he’ll continue to drive until you tell him otherwise (which would probably happen sooner rather than later knowing you).

“i’m running away,” you laugh to him. “i’m running away.”

“hell yeah you are,” he smiles.

“i’m running away with the love of my life,” you say happily, and hanma’s heart skips a beat at your words.

“no doubts?” he questions, and he hopes you have none.

“not a single one.”

and he smiles. it was the first night you both had together, the start of your new life with him, leaving your old one behind just to be with him. it felt crazy, irrational almost but love made you do things like that. love made you fall for the delinquent everyone told you to stay away from, love made you break your surprisingly complex window lock just so he could stay with you whenever he wanted, love made you skip events just so you could meet up with him. you were young, yet you were so hopelessly in love.

“what do we do now?” you ask, voice soft.

and there’s a smile on his face as he replies.

“anything you want baby.”

“then drive,” you say. “drive as far as you can, let’s get out of here.”

and his grin grows wider when his foot pushes harder on the gas.

it’s three thirty three in the morning when hanma’s stopping in the parking lot of a hotel.

it’s not the nicest place, but it’ll do for tonight. after all, you didn’t have that much money on you, something your forgot to consider when you left home. yet the thought seems to slip your mind when you rest in his arms.

you’re more relaxed, hanma thinks to himself as he pulls you closer to him. his fingers card through your hair as he stares up at the hotel ceiling. this was all he could give you tonight, a small little room and a small bed that barely fit you both. he promised you the world and he was certain he would give it to you. after all, hanma’s always been like that with you. anything you wanted was instantly yours. if anyone was bothering you, he’d take care of it no problem. he’d set the world on fire if you wanted, watching it burn in your arms. he’s always believed that you deserved the world, that you deserved all the stars in the sky, but for now all he can give you is this small hotel room, a place you both can call home for the night.

soon, he thinks, he’ll be able to give you more soon.

it’s nine in the morning the following day when hanma wakes up the next morning.

he’s so used to alarms and waking up at the crack of dawn just so he can sneak out of your bedroom window. but today, he didn’t need to worry about that. today he could sleep for as long as he pleased. you were still asleep in his arms, cheek smooshed against the pillow and he can’t help but smile. you were beautiful, even in moments like this, he thought you were the most beautiful person he laid eyes on.

he recalls the moment when you first met when a guy was causing you trouble outside of your university campus, and hanma, even though he barely knew you, ended up beating him up. he still remembered the look of pure shock on your face. you were his classmate, at least when he decided to go to class, and you knew nothing about him other than the fact that he was often absent. he still remembered your scolding, even when you barely knew him you were still on his ass. yet at the time he did nothing but scoff saying that you should thank him for saving you despite the fact that you claimed you didn’t need saving. but you mumbled a thank you when you surprisingly saw him at school the next day. it was kind of odd how an unpredictable unprecedented chance meeting led to something like this, led to him letting down the walls to his heart just to let you in.

but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

his fingers gently card through your hair before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. there’s a small grin on his face, one he couldn’t wipe off even if he tried, and it only grows wider when a small whine leaves your lips.

“shuji what time is it?”

“good morning baby,” he mumbles.

and your eyes slowly open, smiling when you realize he’s right where you left him last night. there was no text saying he left, no alarm snapping you out of your sleep.

he was still here.

“good morning,” you repeat. “what time is it?”

his eyes turn to the small clock in the corner of the hotel room, “it’s around nine,” he whispers before he pulls you in closer. “but that doesn’t matter, we have all the time in the world.”

“shuji.”

“yes baby?”

“isn’t our checkout time at ten?”

there’s a silence that follows before his eyes widen slightly, “yeah it is.”

“then we should prep to leave right?” you ask.

“we don’t have to,” he tries. “we could stay here forever if you’d like.”

“the owners would kick us out.”

“i’d like to see them try.”

“it’s like you’re asking for a fight shuji,” you mumble rolling your eyes.

“i wouldn’t mind it if you wanted to stay,” he reasons.

“okay then,” you mumble, pulling yourself out of bed. “i’m not letting you kill someone on our first day together. we’re not starting our life together with a homicide.”

hanma’s got his arms around your waist before you can even take two steps away from the bed about to counter your reasoning before your phone rings. there’s a split second of silence between you both before it rings again. your eyes meet his, “who is it?” he asks as you move to grab it.

“my parents,” you answer, declining the call only to see hundreds of texts and missed calls from your family. there’s a slight tremble in your hand as you read through the messages, all the open ended threats, the questions that seemed to not need answers. they knew exactly where they were.

they knew exactly who you were with.

“hey,” he calls out, pulling you away from your phone before you can feel your fears spiral. “i can take you home if you want, we can pretend none of this ever happened and you could go back.” he really hopes he doesn’t have to, but it would be selfish of him to say that out loud. you always came before him, his wants were always second to yours.

but you shake your head, “no, no it’s fine,” you mumble stepping closer to him. “they’ll stop texting in a bit,” you say, cupping his cheeks. “shuji i want to be here, i want to be with you.”

it would be a lie to say that he didn’t feel guilty. it would be a lie to say he didn’t feel any kind of shame from taking you away from your family, from your old life. you gave all of that up to be with him, and in that moment he makes a promise to make all of it worth it.

but he asks again, “are you sure?”

“i’m very sure.”

and with that, his lips meet yours. he’s never been able to love you like this, to love you the way he’s always wished he could. every obstacle seemed to come in his way. but now they’re all gone, and now nothing could come in the way between you and him.

“but baby,” you mumble as you pull away, resting his forehead against yours. “we have to get out of here before the owner kicks us out.”

“okay,” he smiles. “anything for you.”

because it’s true, he really would do anything for you.

who’d have thought that someone like you could have one of tokyo’s most feared men at their beck and call? if you asked any of hanma’s subordinates they would only mention his more sadistic, cruel side. but with you, he seemed the complete opposite.

“so,” he asks as you both get out of bed. “what do you want to do today?”

you shrug, “no clue,” you hum. “maybe find a place to live, so we don’t end up in hotel rooms every night.”

“alright,” he nods. “sounds good to me, i’ll find you the best place that money can buy.”

“shuji we barely have any money.”

“so what?” he counters. “if you want it, i promise it’ll be yours.”

he’ll give you everything, he’ll find the nicest place for you to call your own. he’ll give you the world the second he has the chance because it’s you, the first person who loved him, the first person to happily call him yours, the first person who promised to stay by his side. he’d give you everything because you were the person he loved with his entire being.

thanks for reading!! reblogs are incredibly appreciated <33

[mercy-burning]

Your Favorite — Part 3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: As the summer comes to a close, Spencer and Y/N start feeling a shift in their relationship. Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Adults w/ age gap, thigh riding, exhibitionism, oral sex (male receiving), penetrative/unprotected sex, breeding kink, one line of daddy kink,  Word Count: 4.3k exactly, love how that turned out lol

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLIST

NOTE: Thank you all for sticking with me through this long wait, I feel so bad for having to keep putting it off. But I’m very proud of where this ended up, and I’m so glad you’ve all been so excited about it! I had so much fun writing this story, so again, thank you very much for reading and indulging me in this weird fantasy lolol ❤ Love you guys! And, as always, thank you to the lovely Em ( @boldlyvoid ) for being my beta for this series! Your feedback and support has been a big help from the start, ILY

———

AUGUST 12th

"I don't wanna hear a single word, understand?"

Not like I have a choice; As soon as the harsh whisper leaves Spencer's mouth, his hand is covering my own and my back is being pressed up against the wall of the storage closet.

But that's all he does. I wait for him to make a move, but instead he insists on being a tease.

"What? You've been trying to get my attention all night, and now that you have it, you're not gonna do anything with it?"

"I want you to do it for me," I mumble into his hand.

He shoves me harder into the wall and slots his knee in between my legs, spreading them apart and making me sigh.

"You wanted it so bad... So take it..."

Watching the amusement dance through his features as I grind down on his leg and whine into his mouth only excites me more, right next to the knowledge that downstairs the house is congested with people visiting to celebrate my mom's new promotion at work.

Needless to say, it doesn't take me very long to start feeling my stomach tense. My hips are wild as they roll over his leg, whines spewing from my mouth and into his hand. I look up into his eyes, doing my best to show him how much I could never grow tired of this, and he returns the favor by lifting his leg higher and giving me more friction.

In no time at all, I'm shuddering against him, feeling his hand press harder into my mouth to muffle the high-pitched whines that I can't help but expel.

"Nice and quick... Good girl..." Spencer muses, slowly peeling himself away from me. "You're really looking forward to being spoiled later, aren't you..."

The grin that spreads over my face is unwavering. "Definitely. Knowing Mom, she'll be passed out cold in like an hour."

I know I'm the one who brought her up, but it still stings a little when Spencer smiles fondly. "Yeah, she's a lightweight alright... You sure you can handle all this time without me until then?"

Despite the butterflies I get when he says it, mischievous and downright delectable, his hands reach out to grab my waist and pull me closer to him, I roll my eyes. "You underestimate me."

He studies my face for a moment, a pretty smile flashing before me in the dim light before he kisses my cheek. "Sure."

And when he leaves, I wait.

Minutes later, my skin still burns from his touch.

———

The moment my eyes open the next morning, it all comes back in flashes.

His lips are on my skin, travelling lower and lower...

His hands trail all over my body, featherlight in a way that leaves me with goosebumps.

His tongue starts slow, taking its time to taste me and savor every precious second.

His voice is like the sweetest prayer, whispering praises that leave my head dizzy and my heart pounding.

His lips languidly open and close around the most sensitive parts of my body, in tandem with that sweet, magnificent tongue as each action pulls sighs from the very depths of my soul.

His hands reach up and tangle with mine as he makes me come on his tongue, over and over again until I'm practically numb and the lull of sleep drags me under.

His hands now ghost over my bare skin, along my sides and down to my waist. I hum happily and push back against him when I feel it.

He's hard.

"How long before you think she wakes up?" he whispers in my ear.

"Not long... Maybe we... shouldn't risk i—"

The words fall off a cliff, never to be seen again when he slowly enters me, gripping my leg and forcing it over his own. "I'll be quick."

I can tell, though, that he doesn't want to be. It's present in the way he enters me, over and over with motions that feel rather stunted and definitely too rushed.

"Baby, no," I whine, reaching behind me to hold his hips still with one hand. "Fuck me slow... Don't rush..."

"But... Your mom..."

"Please..."

Spencer sighs, though not from exasperation. No, his breath is long and teeming with relief, hands gently roaming over the entirety of my body as his hips move slower. He's taking his time, relishing every second and feeling me gradually get more slick at his undoing.

His lips are on my neck, not providing marks to match the ones hidden on the inside of my thighs and my chest, but merely resting there. He kisses me in between gentle thrusts, letting out small whimpers of his own when I clench tightly around him.

This...

This is different.

We've had slow morning sex before, but never like this. Somehow, I find myself drifting, like I'm being carried away by his current. There's nothing but me, Spencer, and our breathing... Our bodies, our air, our souls...

This is what I imagine making love feels like.

Which is why I barely notice when it slips from my mouth— Three words that should feel more daunting due to the weight they hold and the way they ultimately change everything. And yet, whispering “I love you,” in a nearly breathless string of syllables feels incredibly natural. It’s more sincere than anything I think I’ve ever told him, so much so that I don’t even think about what it will mean in the long-run. Instead I let it fall from my lips again and again without regret or consequence.

He doesn't stop, either. Spencer continues to fuck me softly, like it's all he knows how to do. In fact, my confession only seems to make him relax more.

And that's what finally pushes me over the edge.

His name escapes my mouth in a whisper that sounds more like a plea not to leave, and he holds me closer to him. Our bodies are flush together, my back resting perfectly against his chest as he takes a few final thrusts and empties himself inside of me.

If we stayed like that forever, I could die happy.

And actually, that wouldn't be far from the truth, given that if we did stay here forever, my mom would certainly find us and kill us.

The thought makes me sigh.

"You have to leave..."

"I know..."

Spencer pulls me closer, squeezing me tight and giving me a long, bold kiss on the jaw before he rips himself away and takes my heart with him.

AUGUST 18th

Things are significantly different now.

After the morning I let slip that I love him, Spencer and I had been intimate once. We found ourselves alone while Mom was at the grocery store and instinctually came together.

It was quick, and it was fast and rough, and while it obviously felt good, something was off. But I knew it wasn't a physical problem. Like I said, it felt as good as any other time we'd been together, but it just wasn't right.

I hate it.

It hasn't even been a week since then, and I miss him. I miss our dynamic, and I miss the way I used to feel when he touched me.

So I stalk into the office and lean against the doorframe, watching Spencer as he goes through a large pile of paperwork. His hands and his eyes are moving at near light-speed, and the way he concentrates almost makes me feel bad for my intrusion—Honestly, I could have looked at him all damn day.

But there's a bigger plan in mind.

"What'cha up to?"

He looks up and greets me with a smile. "School starts in a few weeks. I'm just trying to get my coursework prepared."

"Oh... You... mind if I keep you company?"

"Not at all."

It's an innocent enough exchange, though I'm hoping I can change that. Mom doesn't get off work for another few hours, so it gives me ample time to do what I have planned.

I walk over and nudge his leg with my knee, and he lets me in. I climb on his lap, and after giving me a brief kiss on the cheek he returns to going through his paperwork.

My face turns and I nestle it into his neck. He hums softly when I kiss the skin under his jaw, once, and then twice, and then over and over in quick succession.

I can feel him smile. "What are you up to, princess?"

Hearing the nickname return in earnest makes me smile. I nip softly at his neck and run my tongue along it. "Mmm, trouble."

"Sounds like you," he mutters through a sultry sigh once I start going lower, kissing the top of his shoulder.

I slide my hands up the front of his chest and gently undo the top button, giving me access to more skin. "You love it when I make trouble..."

"Hmm, I'm not sure about that."

I slide off his lap then, crouching between his legs and looking up at him with a smile. "Really?"

All he does is look down at me, his pupils growing bigger by the second. So I continue my venture, sliding my hands up the insides of his legs until I reach the belt. "So you don't love when I do this?"

Spencer sighs, helping me by lifting his hips a little and letting me slide down layers of fabric until his dick is right in front of me.

I don't waste any time, taking him in my hand and bringing him to my mouth. He's still not entirely hard yet, but I don't mind at all. In fact, I let out a happy sigh just before I press kiss after kiss along the entire length of him. From base to tip, I take my time kissing and licking along the salty skin and giving him my full attention. I pull back and admire him, I smile, I kiss and I lick and I squeeze him with my hand... And when he's finally nice and hard, I take the head of his cock in my mouth and suck gently.

"Y/N..."

I hum around him, sinking further down until he hits the back of my throat, and then I come back up and repeat. It's slow. Maybe torturous even, but really I don't mean it to be.

Thankfully Spencer seems to be happy with my speed and technique; His eyes are on the verge of closing and his chest is heaving slowly, fingers gently caressing the sides of my face as I go down on him.

It's this same slow, steadying pace we'd taken before, and it's exactly what we needed.

I can feel his touch on my face, burning into my skin and marking me for all eternity. Likewise, the thick, throbbing weight of his cock sliding over my tongue and down my throat feels just like home— Like it's right where we're meant to be.

Once again, we fit together perfectly.

This epiphany sets a fire deep in the pits of my stomach, and just like that our spark is back again.

I look up and catch his eye, and he lets me keep it, forcing himself to keep his eyelids open to watch me. My pace remains consistent and slow, and and he brings both of his hands under my chin. The way he holds my face is so gentle, so loving and sensual that I nearly burst with tears at the sentiment alone, and it doesn't take long for him to start letting go.

He stutters my name when he comes, still using the pads of his nimble fingers to caress my throat. I take in and swallow each rope of cum until it's gone, and even then I keep him in my mouth, gently bobbing my head up and down just for the sake of feeling him inside me somehow.

But then he lifts me off of him and his dick falls limp in his lap. I sigh and lean down, kissing it a few times before just resting my head in his lap as he strokes my hair.

"You're right," Spencer says after a few moments.

"About what?"

"I do love when you make trouble."

We laugh, and I lift my head to look up at him.

"I know... It's your favorite."

"That it is, princess."

AUGUST 26th

I wish more than anything that this orientation would just end. My left foot is anxiously tapping the cool white tile of the floor as I wait to be next in line to grab my paperwork and get on my way— To home for what I'm sure will be a long weekend trying to find free minutes to steal with Spencer.

In another life it might have gotten tedious and painful sneaking around for so long, but I found it excited me. Sure, my feelings for Spencer were growing at an exponential rate, but ever since I visited him in our home office, we seemed to be getting back our groove— With an added flair I might add...

Each time we were together was more intense than the last. His hands got more possessive, his kisses got deeper and more passionate, and the way he looked at me?

I could swear I felt him falling just as deep as I was.

The smile it all brought to my face in that moment fell a little short when they called me next in line, and I fell into a joyful step forward to collect my things.

When I get home, though, things aren't as joyful.

The first thing I notice is that Spencer's car isn't in the driveway or even on the street. He's usually here on weekends, so I wonder if he's out for something, or even out with my mom on a lunch date or something.

I try not to think about that thought too much and step inside, hoping to at least enjoy the silence for a little while, lest they really are out together.

I think I'm out of the woods when I hear the television, a laugh track of some kind, but then it turns into the Friends theme blaring through the speakers, and my heart nearly falls into the pit of my stomach.

There's only one reason Mom would be watching Friends. She swears up and down that she hates it, but it always ends up on TV when there's one specific thing she's going through, because "Hearing them complain about their stupid problems make me feel better about my own!"

Her own problem being a breakup.

For a moment I wonder if maybe Spencer had told her about us. Or maybe she found something somehow that would give us away. I make my way slowly through the space until I reach the living room, my brain making up every possible horrendous outcome— Not even to prepare for the blow, because I know that absolutely nothing could prepare me for the wrath of my mother in any situation... I simply can't help myself from feeling guilty and heartbroken as my stomach churns and my heart beats so loud I can barely hear the TV anymore.

When I come into her view, Mom freezes and lets out a large breath of shaky air. The small tub of ice cream in her hands shakes just as much, and I can tell she's trying her hardest not to burst into tears.

I've never seen her this upset before. Normally it's just anger and annoyance, but this time she looks utterly broken.

"M—Mom?" I stutter, even though she probably can't even hear what I'm saying over the TV. I still don't know if she knows about my involvement with Spencer, but I feel like she'd be more angry with me than sad, so I figure it's safe to come closer.

The moment I take a step forward, she sets the ice cream on the floor and opens her arms to me, a choked sob forcing its way out. It almost makes me cry, just seeing her this heartbroken, and in an instant I'm running to her and snuggling into her side as she hugs me.

"What happened?" I will myself to ask, even though I still have no idea what it means for me. Maybe that's selfish, but if he's taking himself out of Mom's life, surely that has to mean he's removing himself from mine as well, right? And if he's just leaving without saying anything... God, that would ruin me, too.

Still, I wait to hear what Mom will say.

"He broke up with me," is all she says, through a long and tired sigh. She mutes the TV and then holds me tighter. I can feel that there's pure sadness controlling her every movement, and it crushes me.

"Why?"

"I don't know, he just... He said he didn't love me, and he wasn't feeling it anymore."

"That's all?"

"Uh huh... It was so sudden, too, like... I thought we were really getting along, and I just... I don't understand how he couldn't feel it... I felt all of it, and he just... He felt nothing. How could he feel nothing?"

I really don't know what to say anymore... It seems to me like Spencer really told her the truth and ended their relationship because he didn't feel anything for her anymore, but... I always knew he had to have felt something... I guess I just didn't realize someone could fall out of it so quickly.

The guilt overwhelms me then, when it dawns on me that I made him fall out of it so fast. I was there, taking up small moments of his time until, eventually, I'd taken up so much of it that it wasn't just his time I was stealing, but also his love. His fire, and his passion... Month by month, day by day, I was draining the love he had for my mom and distilling it to meet my own desires.

And now, here I am, in my mothers arms as she weeps over a man she truly loved, all because he and I were selfish and treasonous.

If Spencer decides he still wants to be with me after this, I really don't know if I could do it. Even after all this time... After all this trouble and guilt and glorious treason...

He could never really be mine.

———

Y/N,

I knew this day would come from the moment I met you. Of course, I didn't know how far my feelings would take me, but in the end I knew I would one day have to leave you and your mother behind.

Day by day my feelings for you grew stronger, and it wasn't until you told me you loved me that August Thirteenth that I realized I loved you, too. What we had was always dangerous, but by then my heart was focused solely on you, and I could feel your mother slipping from my grasp.

I pretended for as long as I could, but now you've taken up so much space in my brain that when Eve pulled me near, I almost sighed out your name instead. I knew then that no longer could I "keep up appearances," as I often like to tell you.

Maybe one day you and I can find our way back to each other, but for now, I think it's for the very best that we go our separate ways.

In my wildest dreams I will think of you fondly, and I can only hope that you might do the same.

Always Yours, Spencer

JUNE 19th, SEVEN YEARS LATER

There are so many things I'm thinking about when I come home tonight.

One: I'm a little tipsy and completely fucked out, which reminds me of that night I came home in the exact same state, only to find my mom's old boyfriend, Spencer, unable to sleep and to stop staring at my bare legs. The memory brings a smile to my face.

Two: My feet fucking hurt and I want to get these goddamned shoes off.

Three: The ghost of Spencer's smile when he saw me for the first time in seven years burns in the back of my mind, right next to the ghost of his hands caressing my skin like it had been the first time.

Four: How am I going to spend the rest of the summer back in town knowing what it feels like to have fucked him at all without an ounce of guilt attached to it?

Five: Am I going to tell my mom that I slept with her ex-boyfriend tonight?

Six: Fuck, I'm hungry...

My heels come off as soon as I step through the door.

The light is on, and I can hear Mom laughing in the kitchen with Adam from far away, which brings a fond smile to my face. I'm glad that she's finally happy, with someone who doesn't make me want to fall to my knees, thank you very much.

And truthfully, if I hadn't ran into Spencer at all tonight, I'm not sure I ever would have thought about that whole situation again— It was fucked up, he ended up leaving both of us, and Mom was so deeply devastated after their breakup that I didn't have the heart to tell her I missed him too. I just buried it deep down and tried to move on right alongside her, eventually erasing his memory from my mind, body, and soul.

Well, almost.

There were days, obviously, where his letter hummed inside my pillowcase where he left it, whether I brought it to college or kept it at home, or it sat soundly in my new apartment. His words were always there, spilling into my dreams and dancing with me through our memories; tangled tongues and limbs, wild nights and passionate mornings...

I'd wake up feeling hot to the touch and missing him completely.

Thankfully those days were few and far in between, and for a while I'd stopped thinking of him altogether.

But of course, it turns out that Spencer Reid is in fact, pretty damn inevitable.

That bar downtown was packed, so it was a wonder I'd even ran into him of all people in the first place. What he was doing there I didn't know. And neither do I now, because from the moment we laid eyes on each other, it was this constant state of shell-shock and fire, nothing else. He asked briefly about Mom, I told him she'd been married for four years, and then he joked about how he was surprised I hadn't tried to steal him from her.

Naturally, with that ever so playful look in his eye practically taunting me, I played to his joke and responded with a sultry smile, "The only one I ever wanted to steal was you, Doctor..."

The rest wasn't exactly a blur, but all I'm going to say is that we spent the rest of our time together at his apartment, "catching up on lost time"... And as much as I'd grown out of the submissive role sexually over the years, I found myself crawling back, submitting to him like I'd done it a million times over. And, really, I might as well have.

It's like we'd never stopped.

That being said, I declined his offer to stay the night and told him to give me a call some time before I left to go back to Seattle. Though, not without giving him a thousand goodbye kisses that were rather counterproductive.

Thinking about it makes my cheeks burn hot, though thankfully it's summer, and Mom won't have to question it. Though, if she does, I suppose I could keep it short and sweet and tell her the truth at the very least: that I met up with an old friend who showed me a good time.

"Hey'a, Sweetpea," she greets with a bright wave. She and Adam are obviously a little tipsy, more than me by the looks of it, but I pay it no mind. "How was you're night?"

"Great! Went to a few bars downtown, met up with some friends..."

"Oh, good, well we're glad you got back safe."

I snag a bottle of water and an apple from the fridge, then turn back around to see Mom and Adam snuggled in, sharing a smile that would make even the happiest person on the planet sick to their stomach.

Oddly enough, it reminds me of back then, when she was with Spencer, happier than ever and completely oblivious to what was going on in her daughter's life.

The thought makes my stomach flutter, taking me back to earlier in the night when he had his hands tangled in my hair and his mouth attached to my skin, spewing filthy words and praises that had me begging for more...

"I missed you, princess," he whispers, holding himself deep inside me. His fingers brush the matted hair from my face, revealing more of my saccharine smile and eyes that swim with mischief.

"I missed you too," I whine, reaching out and grabbing handfuls of his ass, shoving him even farther inside me and wrapping my legs around him tighter. "...Daddy..."

Spencer loses all semblance of cool, pulling back and slamming into me with full force. I—

"Y/N?"

I blink away his memory, reminding myself of where I am and what I'm doing, finding Mom looking at me with a curious gleam in her eye.

"What are you thinking about?"

With a small smile, I nod in her direction. "Oh, uh... You'll never believe who I ran into tonight."

———

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