#im a proper lady i swear

[orcelito]

Gave into temptation and Yeeted my mostly empty water bottle across the largely empty parking lot. No warning, just on the fringe of the group of family and friends chatting after the ceremony. The space was so open. The weight so throwable.

Threw that shit a good 50 ft, and then it Rolled. Definitely went further than I was expecting. & as my family was like "what the Fuck???" I had to run after it hfkshdj bc I don't wanna LITTER...

It felt good tho. Sometimes you just need to throw things.

[orestesimp]

RED FLAGS ║ PART 12

CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Pairing: Steven Grant x female reader x Marc Spector (x hints of Jake Lockley)

Summary: You get more than you bargained for when you follow Marc out into the night. Or alternatively: 🎵 Fighting evil by moonlight. Winning love by daylight 🎵

Content: Cthulu horror, violence, blood and gore, angst, yikes overall.

Word Count: 6.2k words

Series Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | Thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

[PREVIOUS] - [NEXT]

You’re not thinking straight. 

Somehow you’re already at the end of the hallway, pushing the button for the lift and having a staring contest with the red floor indicator, and you don’t even know if you managed to lock up behind you.

The lift is stuck at the ground floor, apparently unwilling to do the one bloody thing a lift is supposed to do and lift itself. You can’t be bothered to wait. Before you even properly register making a decision, you’re already down the five flights of stairs, out the building's front door and onto the street, cheeks stinging from the bone-chilling cold.

Usually, the residual heat from the bustle of city life coupled with fumes from the busy traffic will keep London warm enough even in the dead of night. But now, as you make your way down the cramped street, it’s so cold that your breath is frosting in front of you. 

It’s eerily quiet for Central London. The only sound is the one made by your feet carelessly splashing through the puddles of rainwater filling the potholes in the cracked pavement, and it seems to echo off the tall concrete walls on either side of you. 

You don’t know what you’re doing.

It would be better, safer,  smarter for you to go back upstairs where you could stay comfortably warm under the covers while you wait for Steven to return to you in the morning. 

You know all of this, but you don’t turn around. Don’t even hesitate. One foot after the other, you stride determinedly down the narrowing passageway that’s lined with pungent beer bottles and deep fried chicken bones, until you reach a fork in the street. 

This is all so stupid.

You don’t know which direction Marc went—right or left—don’t know what his intended destination is or if he even came this way at all. But you do know one thing.  

Marc Spector loves you. 

His quiet voice still echoes between your ears. ‘I love you too’, he’d said, and it was real. 

You chance left into an even smaller alleyway. You don’t know why, other than that the dark tapered alley seems like a more likely place for Marc to have slunk off to in the middle of the night. 

There are no street lights here, and the walls on both sides seem to narrow in on you, until you feel like they're practically scraping against your shoulders. Somehow, even though you’ve been more or less living in this area as of late, you’ve not ever come across this path before. 

A foetid smell lingers in the air, like someone’s left rotten eggs out in the sun. London’s never exactly smelled good, but the sudden overwhelming odour stings your nostrils, invading your throat in a way that threatens to have you doubled over, dry-gagging.

The rain is coming in heavier now, but it does nothing to help with the smell. Just permeates every single layer of your clothing, until you’re soaked all the way down to your socks. 

You’re bloody freezing. 

Something doesn’t feel quite right, but you chalk it up to the fact that you've chosen to take a stroll down a dark alley in East London in the middle of the night by yourself. Not your brightest decision ever, but here you are.

A tingling at the back of your neck makes you throw a quick glance over your shoulder, checking to see if someone’s watching you, but there’s nothing there. All you see is the same depressing-looking alley that you just came down. Red-rusted brick walls above a concrete street covered in manky puddles and rubbish, just like every other dirty little alleyway in East London. 

Somehow, this does nothing to reassure you.

The skin between your shoulders itches, prickling with uncomfortable heat despite the cold, and it feels like a warning sign. 

Despite the fact that you’re wearing sturdy boots and covered from toes to chin, you still feel uncomfortably exposed. Like any minute now something might start nipping at your heels from behind. It’s the same illogical fear you feel when you’re alone in bed at night with your feet sticking out from under the covers. You’ve left yourself defenceless and vulnerable to the monsters under the bed. It’s only a matter of time before something from the darkness will reach out and grab you by the ankles, dragging you under. 

You continue forwards, hurrying your pace with every step. It’s irrational, but you can’t shake off the feeling that if you don’t, something will catch up to you.  

Some sort of.... clicking starts up behind you, and you slow to a stop. Some lost survival instinct is screaming at you, telling you to freeze. To hide so it won't see you.

The unsettling noise continues, rattling oddly in your ears and growing ever more distorted as it echoes off the walls around you. You’ve never heard anything like it, and you wish you weren’t hearing it now. It’s… strange. Not quite right. 

Other.

The noise stops, leaving just the sound of your breath rasping in and out of your too-tight chest. You force yourself to move; fighting the warning siren of your heart hammering painfully hard in your chest, you turn slowly to look over your shoulder at the alley behind you.

There’s nothing there. You're alone.

Slowly, slowly you turn the rest of the way, but there's still nothing. Aside from the usual smattering of rubbish, the only thing in the alleyway is the image of the moonlit sky mirrored on the rain-covered, empty pavement.

You let out a breath you didn't realise you were holding, and force yourself to keep breathing, fighting the stubborn tightness of your chest to take in deep, calming breaths that turn visible as you exhale against the crisp air.

So you heard an odd sound. And what of it? Probably just someone’s ancient radiator clicking up a storm. That’s all. Everything else is just your overactive imagination. Might even have been a bird. Someone’s escaped parakeet doing a strange mating call perhaps. What do you know? London wildlife has always been unpredictable and strange, after all. 

You’ve nearly managed to convince yourself, about to turn on your heel and continue on your way when you spot it. The gentle ripple pattern spreading out across the thin sheet of water covering the grey concrete. Not unusual in the least, given that it’s raining. Except it’s a large ripple. Too large to be from the rain.

Despite the freezing temperature, your spine prickles with cold sweat underneath your thick coat. 

The noise starts up again. It warbles and clicks-clicks-clicks. You can’t pin where it’s coming from. It’s disorientating. It comes from the ground, rattles off the walls and lingers in the air above. It’s everywhere. 

Water splashes on the ground some feet away from you, a small spray going up in your peripheral vision, like something stepped on it. Something heavy. Something large.

But there’s nothing there. And that maddening clicking noise won’t stop. 

You can’t see anything in the empty space over the water puddle in front of you. Nothing, not even the smattering droplets of the pouring rain. The water is eerily still which… can’t be right. 

You narrow your eyes at the puddle, dragging your gaze upwards, and…

There’s a hole in the rain.

A void of some sort, defined only by the absence of the falling water. Following the empty space upwards, you can see a clearly defined boundary where the droplet starts again. Like the rain is bouncing off a transparent surface.

There’s something there. Something solid. Something big.

A huge eerie shape. As you squint at it, you begin to recognize that the water is outlining crouching limbs and a torso. Your brain keeps trying to pin down what it looks like, but it’s not the shape of any animal you know of. There’s something not right about its form. It's disproportionate; all overly sharp edges and grotesque bulging curves that make your skin crawl. The angles are wrong somehow in a way that makes your brain itch to look at them.

It’s... 

It’s…

Not of this world. 

You hold your breath, standing motionless, feet rooted to the wet pavement as rain pelts your face so hard it stings. 

Click. C-Click. CCCCClick. 

The noise rattles closer. Louder now. It feels like it’s burrowing under your skin. Into your brain. But the warning sirens blaring inside your head are louder still. Deafening. Every instinct and nerve ending in you is screaming one thing. 

RUN. 

You turn and run, one leg leaping in front of the other. You run without looking behind you. Running even as you almost stumble, feet skidding against the slippery-wet concrete. Your lungs burn, but you don’t stop. Don’t dare look back. Eyes fixed on the dim, rain-fogged light at the end of the alley in front of you. You run. 

There’s a loud crash behind you. A percussive thunderclap of sound that hurts your ears. The crunch and clatter of concrete being torn apart. 

But you don’t stop. Don’t look behind you to investigate. You run. 

You run, ignoring the bile pushing its way up your throat. Run, ignoring the shrieks of sound erupting behind you. Running from the sound of a wounded creature, like no animal that you have ever heard in your life. A hellish scream that doesn’t sound of this world, tearing through the thin space. A pain that is born out of pierced flesh and broken bones. You run.

Stupid. You’re so fucking stupid. 

Why are you here? Why didn’t you just stay in the safety of your home, tucked up in bed under the covers? The stinging wetness in your eyes blurs your vision as you tear down the alleyway. Does it open out into another street or dead end? You can’t tell yet, but there’s nothing else to do. You run.

You collide with something solid and firm.The impact knocks the wind out of your lungs, and a strong pressure surrounds you from every angle, grabbing hold of your shoulders and constricting around your ribs. You can’t run. 

You can’t breathe. There’s something clamped over your mouth and nose. Coarse gauze pressed into your nostrils, suffocating you. 

You make a desperate attempt to free yourself, arms trying to push out against the tight hold, hands clawing at whatever you can reach, but your pathetic attempts are no use. The grip only tightens at your resistance. It’s too strong. You can’t get free. 

This is it. There’s nowhere left to go. You’re trapped. It’s over. 

Still, you can’t stop fighting, thrashing in every direction, trying to squirm yourself loose.

“Stop! Stop!”

You recognize that grumpy, impatient voice. You’d know it anywhere, even muted as it is by the blood thundering in your ears. You register that the solid weight holding you captive is a person. 

Marc. 

You go limp. Shoulders slumping into his hold. Legs no longer kicking as your feet settle onto the ground below.

“I’m gonna let go of you now. I need you to not fight me. Or scream.” 

You nod into his hand, and the pressure finally gives, as does his grip. Then you’re free. 

Turning around, the sight that greets you nearly has you screaming and running after all because it’s not Marc at all. It’s…

A mummy.

Layers upon layers of white gauze are wrapped like bandages over every inch of the body before you. Wound around limbs and woven over a broad torso, continuing up to shroud the face. 

And the eyes…

Where the eyes should be, the eye sockets are hollowed out. The gorgeous brown you expected is absent, replaced by a white glow that blinds you when you try to look directly at it.

You wobble on your feet, a sick nausea filling your throat. 

It spoke like Marc. Used his voice. 

Oh god! Is this some monstrous creature that mimics human voices to lure in its prey? 

Did it eat Marc!? 

Is it going to eat you!? 

The glowing eyes narrow into impatient triangular shapes, the shoulders pulling up and back while the feet shift in an almost nervous gesture. An odd sense of recognition fills you.

“M-Marc?” 

The eyes narrow further into a scolding glare. Even without a mouth, you can tell he’s scowling at you. The thing growls, but it’s a human sound. And a familiar one. 

Marc, definitely Marc.

Only he could manage to scowl behind a hoodie, three layers of mummy bandages and a glowing Halloween mask. 

As you watch, the hood and mask recede, evaporating into thin air. White bandages give way to golden-tanned skin, and you’re greeted by the face you know so well. Hard eyes staring down at you above steel-cut cheekbones and a jaw set with displeasure. 

“Marc!” Thank god! Relief floods your chest, but it’s short-lived. That thing could still be out there. “We need to go!”

“Why are you here? You can’t be here,” Marc grates out, resisting your attempts to pull him into motion. He’s clearly furious, but right now the two of you have got more important things to worry about.                                                                                  

“We need to go,” you repeat, pleading with him, hands grappling for his, trying to tug him in the direction you were running before, but he resists you effortlessly, like he’s anchored to the spot. You might as well be trying to tug a stone statue.

“Marc, please! There’s something out there! Like a– a–” you fumble, unsure of what to name it, because you don’t know what the hell that thing was. 

An invisible monster? A demon? A boogeyman? 

“I don’t know what it was! Some kind of… creature. Something big,” Your voice breaks. Your fingers tremble where they’re curled over his arm, and you grip harder. Digging them further into the bandages, trying to get them to stop. “You have to believe me Marc!”

He’s not going to believe you, is he? He’s going to think you’ve lost the plot and need to be sectioned. God, maybe you do.

But the vexation in his face fades as he watches you, his expression shifting into something softer, filled with worry. His hands reach for you, the bandages soft against your cheeks. 

“Hey. Hey, it’s okay.” He tips your chin up, eyes searching your face, and if he thinks you are mad or hysterical, there isn’t a trace of it in his gaze. There’s no disbelief. “I know.” 

His calm acceptance stuns you. 

“What do you mean you ‘know’?” 

“I know because I…,”—he hesitates, mouth set in a grim line—”I took care of it.” “You took care of… what? Marc, what–? What do you mean by that?” 

Marc falters at that, and runs one gloved hand over his hair. His eyes dart around like he’ll find the answer hidden somewhere behind the overflowing rubbish or carved into the worn brick of the alley wall. 

“I…,” He hesitates again, glancing at you and then away, like he can’t make himself hold your gaze. “This is what I do,” he finally spits out. “I tried to keep this shit away from you. It’s not something you were ever supposed to see. I need you safe.” 

The unhappy set of his mouth makes your aggravation falter, but you need to understand.

“What do you mean? Tried to keep what shit away from me?” 

“I–” He breaks off, eyes darting up and across the wall of the building across from you, high above your head. “Shit. We need to go.”

Oh sure! Now he wants to leave. (Though it’s not like you’re going to argue.)

Marc grabs your arm again, and you do your best to keep up as he hauls you along down the alley. 

You try to watch the alley walls and street as you run, searching for any sign of the grotesque invisible creature from before, but you can’t make out anything in the pouring rain this time. You try to listen instead, but you can’t hear anything over the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Marc stops suddenly, and you stumble to a halt as well, crashing into his back and nearly falling. 

“Mar—“

“Quiet,” he cuts you off with the low demand, and the quiet urgency of his voice has you freezing instantly. He stares at the mouth of the alleyway, then up where the moon is just barely visible in the gap between the buildings, eyes wide and alert, face rigid with something like fear. It makes your own fear balloon, your pulse screeching in your ears.

Suddenly there’s a scraping sound, and small bits of brick fall from above, skittering down from the wall on your left. You peer at the shadowy face of the building, but there’s nothing to be seen.

Another grinding sound, closer this time. Something large and heavy rubbing against brick. Another shower of gravel and debris, but you still can’t see where the bloody thing is.

Dread curls in the lining of your stomach.

Then it starts again, that otherworldly clicking that seems to burrow right  into your skull. You cover your ears reflexively. Would claw them right off if only it would make the noise stop. 

Marc reaches for you then. Moving slowly and deliberately, he wraps an arm around you, scooping you close against his chest and taking you with him as he backs away. 

You huddle against him, staring up at his determined profile. His eyes are trained on a spot on the building across from you, clearly seeing what you can’t. 

Without looking away, he leans in closer to you and whispers, “Get ready to run.” 

He’s barely finished speaking when the wall crumbles above you, and Marc’s arms untangle from you, leaving your side. 

You think you catch the sight of something moving in the rain, a slight distortion visible as the shape crosses in front of the moon, then you’re shoved to the side, voice echoing in your ears.

“Run!”

You weren’t ready. 

Shoes skidding backwards in the slippery rain, you lose your footing, and go down. You land hard on your bum, and can’t seem to get up again.

Everything is happening too fast. 

Your chest hurts. Breath stuttering in your lungs, too quick and shallow to let you take in any oxygen. Your heartbeat is pounding so rapidly against your ribs that you’re sure it’s going to rip a hole straight through your chest to the open air.

It’s too bright.

The light from the moon above seems to flood the alleyway, and your eyes throb.

Too loud. 

A solid thud reverberates through the air mere feet away from you. It’s the sound of knuckles meeting flesh. A blood curdling shriek rips through the space. 

Too much. 

Marc's forearm is held up, parallel to the wall, like he’s pinning something that isn’t there. Something large and thrashing. Your eyes are fixed on the bizarre scene before you. You don’t understand what you’re seeing. Don’t understand how the man who folds your clothes in neat squares and makes you lukewarm tea is the same man as the one who stands before you now. Poised and calm in the violence. Holding his own against an otherworldly monster, and winning. 

None of this feels real.  

His fist slams forward, landing some distance away from the brick. Punching into the invisible air. But there’s a horrifying squelching sound with each landing punch that lets you know something is there that you’re not seeing. 

You watch, so focused on Marc and the damage he’s meting out that you almost don’t notice when a damp gust of air grazes against the fine hairs on the back of your neck and sends the soft skin underneath prickling. You fail to take it as the warning sign it is. 

Fuck. There’s another one!

You don’t have time to react. No time for anything. Just the sound of glass crunching against asphalt, and something slamming into your back, so forcefully that the impact threatens to crush your ribs. 

You land face first this time, cheek kissing the concrete with a painful sting. There’s a heavy weight on your back, and mud in your mouth. Or maybe blood. Everything tastes like pennies. 

Marc shouts your name. His voice is raw, panicked. So full of fear it's almost unrecognisable.

You want to go to him.

Anchoring your elbows on the gravelly ground, you try to push up against the heavy weight pinning you to the ground. It hurts. Everything hurts. Your shins are stinging. Cheek too and your forearm where your sleeve must have ripped. Your ribs are one big throbbing blotch of burning pain. But you manage to lift your head up in time to see Marc leaping towards you.

He seems to be suspended in time, one hand pulled back, the other outstretched in mid-air as he reaches for you. Droplets of rain sparkle where they’re caught in his hair, and others seem to trickle leisurely down his forehead above his brown eyes that are wide in blind panic. 

You feel it before you see it. 

His fingers curl around your wrist, the solid weight of his hand clamping tight around your forearm. Time speeds up again at the touch. You hadn’t realised sound had gone missing too until it returns with a deafening fury. 

The suspended rain smatters down all around you. Marc’s other hand impacts the creature pinning you down with a sickening squelch, and a grotesque shriek tears through the space behind you, tapering off into a rheumy deathrattle. 

Marc’s face fills your vision, the terror in his expression just starting to shift into relief when some small distortion, barely seen out of the corner of your eye, breaks into your line of sight, and he’s ripped away from you again by some invisible force.

You don’t understand what you’re seeing. There’s some disconnect between what’s happening in front of you and your brain’s ability to process it. 

You know that can’t possibly be Marc hurtling through the air, white cape billowing behind him like a white flag of surrender. Surely there’s no need to worry because of course you aren’t seeing his body impact the side of the building with a horrifyingly meaty thud that reverberates in your bones, and then tumble to the ground in a shower of broken masonry

You stare at the pile of white fabric and brick pieces there on the ground for a moment, and your heart pounds so forcefully that you feel lightheaded.

It’s a horrible nightmare made reality, and your brain wants to fight it. To pretend it’s not happening. Tell you that it’s not Marc’s lifeless body lying facedown on the ground in front of you.

But… it is.

You can feel the bitter acrid taste of the truth carving itself into your throat. 

You scramble up, ignoring your bloody knees and the searing pain in your side, not stopping until you’re hunched over Marc’s body. He’s terrifyingly still. You grip his shoulder, tugging hard until you’ve managed to turn him onto his back, all the while begging to any deity or higher power who might be listening to please let him be all right; let him be awake; let him still be alive. 

Please. 

He has to be. 

Cupping his cheeks in your palms, you have to swallow the raw sob in your throat at how cold his skin feels against yours. 

A pulse. You need to check for a pulse. 

You shove two fingers against the column of his throat up under his jaw, trying to find the right place, but the stupid bandages are too bloody thick. You can’t feel anything through them. You tug at them, trying to rip them free or wedge your fingertips underneath to get at bare skin, but they’re hard as steel. You don’t stop though, clawing at them now because you’ve got to– 

A heavy, thudding footfall lands on the ground a short distance away, and you jerk your head up.

The creature is there in the alley, right in front of you… 

All you can see is the malformed outline, silhouetted by the cascading rain refracting in the moonlight. It turns slowly towards you, feet grinding against the pavement.

Absolute terror swamps you. Every cell in your body is screaming. You need to escape!

RUN! 

You scramble to get ahold of Marc, barely managing to wedge yourself underneath him until you can wrap both your arms around his chest from behind and heave, straining to drag his uncooperative body away from danger. You don’t get very far.  

Marc is heavier than he looks, and your feet scrape and skid against the wet concrete as you desperately try to drag both of you backwards. You barely manage to budge him at all, gaining at most a few inches before the creature begins clicking again.

You can see the outline more clearly now. If you squint you can just make out mangled tentacles protruding from where its head must be and writhing grotesquely in a way that your eyes refuse to focus on. Your breath seizes in your chest and you have to look away, your body wracked with shivers.

You watch it come out of the corner of your eye, thick limbs advancing on you one torturously slow step at a time. You don’t understand why you’re still alive. The creature certainly seemed capable of ferocious speeds when it had attacked Marc before. You get the feeling it’s mocking you. A giant supernatural cat playing with its prey before it eats, and you’re the hapless dinner. 

The thought sickens you.

You tighten your grip on Marc, wrapping your arms around him with renewed determination. Clutching him as close as you can in a futile attempt to protect him from this thing. Unwilling to let it have him. 

There’s more loud clicking, closer still, scraping against your brain like nails on a chalkboard and making your spine curl. 

You’re out of time. Out of options. Your brain furiously scans through a lifetime of collected memories and information for any shred of useful knowledge. Anything to help get you out of this, but there’s… nothing. No secret escape route. No Hail Mary play. 

 It’s hopeless. 

You wish it hadn’t come to this. That you could somehow save Marc and Steven and yourself. That you had more time. 

You wish you had taken the time to eat the breakfast Steven’s made for you with him yesterday morning. That you could have had the chance to taste Marc’s pancakes again. That you had kissed Steven more often (should have done it every opportunity you had), gotten to see that sunshine smile of his light up the room one last time. That you could’ve told Marc you love him in person. 

But that’s the thing isn’t it? 

You don’t have all the time in the world. You never did. Everything has an end. 

You hug Marc closer to your chest. You’re just glad you got to face your end here with him, together.

Searing pain rips into your ankle as cold claws sink into your flesh. The breath you’ve been holding all this time is knocked out of you. Any small shred of peaceful resignation you’d been able to muster in the face of certain death is ripped away, and you react without thinking.

Your foot flies out in a swift kick. The heel of your boot connects with something soft and pulpy that yields with a sickening squelch. 

There’s an angry clicking shriek. It rattles your eardrums painfully and vibrates through your chest, like standing too close to a speaker at a club. The monster takes a step back, but the taloned grip around your heel doesn’t ease, dragging you with it. 

You kick again. Firm sponginess that makes you think of decomposing flesh. Unnaturally soft for something still moving. You think you might vomit. 

The thing screeches but doesn’t loosen its grip. Asphalt and shards of glass dig into your back as it drags you along. You try to cling to Marc, but you can’t. You might as well be a flea for all the hope you have of challenging its strength. 

You twist around onto your front. All you see is mute greyness of the alley. The increasing distance between you and Marc as the thing drags you along. You try to claw at the ground but there’s nothing to hold onto. Your watch, somehow miraculously still on your wrist after everything, pops free now, and you watch it disappearing from your sight, growing smaller and smaller as you’re dragged away, and somehow that’s the final staw. You squeeze your eyes shut on a ragged sob, draw in half. breath to scream, and…

Everything stops. 

It’s dark behind your closed eyelids. Your throat is raw, burning. Are you still screaming? You must be, but you can’t hear anything anymore. There’s no more clicking. The rain seems to have stopped. You can’t feel it falling onto your skin or the asphalt scraping against your torn clothes.

Are you… dead? 

If you are, why do your knees hurt so much? 

You crack your eyes open to find yourself staring up at the pitch-black sky lit by a perfectly circular moon. 

Something white flutters in the periphery of your vision. A white… flag? No, it’s a long flowing white cape that hovers over your body. 

Marc! 

Or… is it? 

Something’s different. 

Tracing the cape upwards, it takes your frazzled brain a second to register what’s changed. This mummy is missing bodyparts! Or… no. His costume is just a different colour. Solid black ink runs up his legs instead of the white bandages that were there before, masking his outline against the black sky above.. 

Is this someone else?

You crane your neck towards where you last saw Marc’s body lying on the pavement, but he’s not there any longer.

This must him, then. 

…Isn’t it?

He’s standing hunched over empty air, a vicious brutality emanating from his entire body that wasn’t there before as he delivers repeated bone-shattering punches to…. nothing. His fists sink into the space that you know isn’t really empty. You can hear the impacts now, even if you still can’t see the creature. The dull wet thud of knuckles connecting with flesh over and over and over again, with almost mechanical precision.

With each blow the same hellish scream you heard earlier rings in the air, but it’s growing weaker, soggier each time until finally it fades all together. And the stomach twisting crunch of bones breaking grows ever louder as his fists sink deeper and deeper into the invisible mass. 

Then, finally, silence falls.

Squinting your eyes open—when did you close them?—the first thing you see is his silhouette standing some feet away from you. Right where you last saw him, but he’s standing upright now, towering over you and what’s left of the creature, a now semi translucent mass that glints wetly.

There’s an unsettling calmness to him as he takes a step back, head tilted to the side as his eyes narrow, observing the thing with disdain. One leg lifts, rising above the ground, poised like an executioner’s axe… and then falls.

The creature isn't making any sounds anymore, not even a whimper when that foot comes down,  delivering an earth-shattering stomp that shakes the ground beneath you. 

There is only a stomach-churning, pulp-crunching sound, of something moist-yet-solid being torn through. You clamp your eyes shut, stomach roiling, trying not to think about what is there that you can’t see. Instead you imagine he’s stepping on a bag of rotten fruit. Repeatedly.

You don’t dare to open your eyes again until everything goes quiet. 

But the horror of the moment isn’t quite over yet. He stands still in the same spot, unmoving. His shoulders squared but loose as he stares at the place the creature had been with a disdainful sneer on his features, eyes flat and blank. He eyes it like he’s inspecting a squashed cockroach stuck to the bottom of his shoe. 

The hairs on the back of your neck are still standing on end. Your body is screaming out to you that the danger hasn’t passed. Something even more dangerous is standing before you. The scene plays out like some twisted nature documentary where a rabid bear was just ripped apart by a monstrous wolf. 

Marc tips his head to stare up at the night sky. Something changes. The whole of his body seizes, shoulders pulled taut, head thrown back like he’s being yanked up by invisible puppet strings. 

The linen covering his body slithers down his limbs like receding snakes. Every inch of the primordial gauze disintegrates into dust and smoke, giving way to the much more familiar tight jeans, form-fitting t-shirt, and loose jacket. 

As if finally satiated, whatever force had its hooks in him relinquishes control, and he slumps forward, feet still firmly grounded to the asphalt, and opens his eyes. 

And then Marc is back. You think… 

Marc seems disoriented at first, breathing erratically. His body language is a stark contrast to the one he held mere moments ago, as though the calm callousness has disintegrated with the mummified gauze. Now he’s hunched over, tense, and appears confused, eyes darting around the alleyway until they land on you, still flat on your ass on the concrete ground.

His eyes stay on you as he covers the distance between you in three great strides, his footfalls skidding along the rain-slick concrete before he falls to his knees beside you. You turn your head, trying to look behind you to observe all the damage, but Marc cups your face in his hand before you can see anything. 

“Hey. Hey, you look at me,” he says, voice rough but hands gentle as he smooths your hair back from your face. His eyes search your face frantically for a long moment. It must eventually penetrate that you’re all right because the panic in his eyes finally melts into relief, and seems to spread to the rest of him. The harsh line between his brows relaxes  slightly, and he lets out a long breath, the tight line of his shoulders softening. 

Then he’s cupping the back of your head in one hand, and hauling you into his chest, and holding you there, pressed tight against him.  It makes it hard to breathe, your face mashed up against his firm chest, nose and mouth partially buried in his shirt and jacket, but you only want to press closer, have him hold you tighter, for as long as he possibly can, even if it chokes the breath out of you.

“It’s okay,” he says after a long moment, “You’re okay. You’re alright. I’ve got you.”

You’re not sure if he’s trying to reassure you or himself. 

His voice is gentle and comforting as he rests a firm hand on the small of your back and keeps it there. His eyes are soft now, no longer cold and blank, even if they do look sad. 

“You’re safe,” he tells you.  

It’s not until he says it that it finally sinks in. The rigid muscles in you melt. Your heightened survival instincts dim, your body finally willing to accept that the danger has passed. 

His grip around you loosens, and the palm of his hand roams over the top of your shoulder, fingers resting on the pulse of your neck, before ghosting under the place that stings and smarts on your cheek. There’s a tremor to his touch, but he’s still meticulous as his hands run gently down your arms, across your back, stomach, and ribs, inspecting you for injuries, and cataloguing the location and gravity of each.   

A long time passes before Marc is satisfied and finished with his examination. Then he lets you go and leans back, shimmying off his jacket—the very one you’d been haunted by when he lent it to you once before—and settles it around your shoulders. Residual heat from his body still lingers in the fabric, instantly warming you and making you aware of just how cold you were before.

You stare up at him, through the rain as the pale moonlight shimmers off the droplets of water caught in his hair. The familiarity of it makes your heart squeeze tight in your chest. Once again the two of you find yourselves in the middle of the rain with Marc’s jacket wrapped around you. It’s a deja-vu you wish you can relive a thousand times over. 

“C’mon,” Marc says, holding out a hand and helping you to your feet, “Let’s get you home.” 

To be continued...

Dedicated to @thirstworldproblemss because I am just very happy I have a friend like her in my life and that I get to share this story together with her.

a/n: to be notified of new writing updates follow @astroboots-writes and turn on notifs 🤡💖🤡

[fushitoru]

chapter 4: the game a bridgerton!au

pairing ⸺ duke!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary⸺ dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, duke gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?

warnings ⸺ nsfw, enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, SUGGESTIVE, eventual smut, jealousy, misogyny, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly

chapter summary: satoru has some revelations about you. both you and satoru share some quite...happening days at the manor, including an eventful game of pall mall. (4.9k)

a/n WARNING this chapter is suggestive. like always minors dni. not edited at all bc im sick of this chapter lol (like always i fear). see u at the bottom ;)

prev. the manor | next. the fall

general masterlist | series masterlist

Dearest reader, 

It has come to the attention of This Author that Miss Itadori, the undeniable diamond of the season, has made her appearance at Gojo Manor a full week ahead of the rest of the ton. Such early arrival can only provoke speculation: might the tender buds of affection be blossoming in the Kentish countryside? Shall we soon witness Miss Itadori departing with more than just fond memories, perhaps even a ring upon her finger? These are the very questions now fluttering through the minds of young ladies and their ever-watchful mamas, who may find their carefully laid plans to ensnare Lord Gojo dashed before the house party has even begun.

⸻ LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS

Gojo leaned back in his chair, fingers absentmindedly drumming on the armrest as he watched you fumble with the library door. The soft fabric of your nightgown slipped off your shoulder, a glimpse of bare skin catching in the dim light⸺something not lost to Gojo’s eyes as he watched your figure disappear angrily. Your face was flushed, eyes wide and uncertain. Despite the flurry of emotions playing across your features, what struck him most was the way your hands trembled as you fought to maintain composure.

His lips pressed into a thin line as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. You had come here⸺of all places⸺into his sanctuary, and for what? A part of him couldn’t reconcile the image of you sneaking into the library in the dead of night with the proper, composed lady you portrayed during the day. The whole encounter felt surreal, leaving a knot of confusion coiled tightly in his chest.

His gaze lingered on the empty doorway after you vanished, a strange hollowness settling in his chest. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to shake off the feeling, but it clung to him like the shadows of the room. His fingers tightened around the armrest, knuckles whitening as if he could grasp onto something concrete⸺something that made sense. But all he was left with was the lingering echo of your footsteps in the hallway and the ghost of your flushed face in his mind.

He rubbed a hand over his face, exhaling slowly. His mind kept returning to the way your nightgown had slipped from your shoulder as you fumbled with the door. The pale fabric had slid down so effortlessly, exposing the curve of your bare skin. It wasn’t scandalous, not really⸺not enough to warrant the way his thoughts kept circling back to it. And yet, he couldn’t shake the image, the unexpected flash of vulnerability. The sight of it stirred something in him, a quiet confusion that unsettled his usual composure.

What was it that made him notice? Gojo’s brow furrowed as he considered it, his fingers absently drumming on the armrest of his chair. He had witnessed plenty of women in far less modest circumstances (most of them courtesy of his friends, who forced him to go to ridiculous events), and yet, this felt different. There was something about the way you had tried to maintain your dignity, the way you had fought to compose yourself even as your face flushed and your nightgown betrayed you. It was... distracting.

The memory of your fearful expression gnawed at him. He had expected haughty arrogance or calculated charm, not genuine fear. You weren’t like the people who usually surrounded him, playing their part in society's grand performance, all vying for his attention. There was an intelligence in your eyes, a spark that made him feel something unsettlingly close to admiration.

He couldn’t make sense of it. Why did it matter that you were different? Why did he find himself enjoying your company, despite the fact that you seemed entirely uninterested in his? He drummed his fingers against the armrest, contemplating the possibility of pursuing you for the rest of the season⸺though he quickly dismissed the thought. You were uncooperative, difficult. A chase after you would be nothing short of exhausting. 

And yet...

His attention shifted back to the desk, to the scattered papers you had left behind. Gojo reached for them, his fingers brushing lightly against the edge of the parchment as though handling something fragile. The numbers and diagrams were a mess of scribbled notes, and yet, they held a strange familiarity. His brow furrowed as he traced the lines with his eyes, piecing together the fragmented calculations. Then, like a puzzle falling into place, it clicked.

Venus. Of all things, you had been calculating the size of Venus.

Gojo’s hand froze midair, hovering over the papers. He blinked, his breath catching in his throat. He had assumed⸺no, expected⸺you to be reading some frivolous romance, a book about love and passion, something fitting for a young lady sneaking into a library. But instead, you were working on complex celestial calculations.

He had pegged you for a typical young lady of the ton⸺someone more interested in the latest gossip or the affections of suitors than in the stars. It annoyed him, more than he cared to admit, that he had been wrong.

Gojo set the paper down, his hand resting on the edge of the desk as he leaned back in his chair. The flicker of irritation that sparked in his chest was unfamiliar, unsettling even. It wasn’t just that you had surprised him⸺plenty of people had done that before. No, it was the fact that he had misjudged you so completely. He prided himself on being perceptive, on seeing through people’s masks with ease. Yet here you were, slipping past his assumptions with nothing more than a few scribbled notes and a fleeting presence.

His gaze dropped to the floor, and for the first time in a long while, he felt uncertain. Gojo wasn’t used to feeling this way⸺unsettled, annoyed, and a little too curious for his own good. He tapped the papers lightly, lost in thought. What did it mean that you had gotten under his skin like this? That he found himself wanting to unravel the mystery of you, to see what lay beneath the surface of your carefully constructed facade?

A sigh escaped his lips, low and quiet. His hand finally left the papers, and he leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling as if it held answers he couldn’t quite grasp. The world around him was filled with people who either fawned over his charms or remained blissfully unaware of his true nature. But you? You saw right through him. You challenged him, unsettled him, made him question things he had never thought to question before.

With a final glance at the empty doorway, Satoru leaned forward again, ready to dive back into his work. But this time, his thoughts weren’t solely on his family’s ledgers. They were on you⸺and the undeniable pull that had started to form between you.

And inevitably, because Satoru is distracted, he lets the lull of sleep sneak up on him, swathing him in its deep, heavy blanket.

No, Satoru hears himself think. You’re not supposed to be here.

You’re sitting on his bed, somehow made it up to his chambers. A part of Satoru comprehends⸺in all his sleep-deprived glory⸺that he is definitely dreaming, but there’s an overwhelmingly stubborn part of him that dominates his entire consciousness, refusing to accept the fact. 

You’re leaning on your elbow, resting on your side on the foot of his bed. Part of him wants to believe that you are really here, sheer nightgown that seems to get shorter and shorter⸺slipping up your thighs⸺every time his consciousness paints an image of you. The sheer material drapes over your figure, accentuating the gentle curve of your waist and the fullness of your hips, painting a picture that torments him.

“My lord,” you whisper. 

It’s just his title, but your voice carries a sweetness it never holds in reality, dripping with an unfamiliar softness that makes Satoru’s heart lurch. Panic takes root, and he scrambles back, trying to distance himself from the fantasy in front of him. His back slams against the headboard as he fights to resist⸺not just you, but the part of himself that aches to abandon all notions of honor. That part of him that craves to do things to you that are anything but honorable.

Then, he notices your smile. It’s not the polite, practiced smile you show at balls or to suitors vying for your attention. This one is sincere, warm⸺a smile that speaks of affection, the kind you’ve never shown him before.

Like you are in love. 

And you are not helping Satoru in his restraint because you position yourself, crawling like a predator, straddling his lap. Satoru is suddenly breathing too fast, his chest tightening with the weight of desire and disbelief.

Your lips are at his ear. Your lips are so soft. “Touch me,” you say, trailing your lips down feather light across his jaw. 

Right now, you are in love. With him. You are his, and Satoru desperately does not want to fight it. 

He does not want to. 

Your hands start trailing down his torso, and now he registers that he is simply wearing a linen shirt and underwear because you are tracing the edge of his underwear, touching his inner thighs, getting so, so impossibly close to⸺

“No,” he rasps, squeezing his eyes shut. “I am a man of honor.”

But that’s a lie. One that Satoru clings to, because admitting the truth would shatter everything he’s built. His identity, his values⸺they all rest on the lie he’s desperately trying to hold onto.

What he really wants is nothing between you and him.

He wants that flimsy nightgown gone, the one that barely covers your thighs and what lies between them. He wants to keep the candlelight burning so he can see every inch of you, learn every detail of your body. He wants to slip off your chemise and explore the softness of your skin, trace the swell of your breasts, the dip of your hips, and taste the sweetness of your lips.

Satoru can’t focus on anything except the fact you are utterly, scandalously close to him, sitting on his lap and staring at him as if you love him. 

And his treacherous heart wants to abandon duty, honor, the dukedom, the royal family⸺everything⸺and simply take you. To feel the weight of you pressed against him, wrapped around him.

But just as his hands move to cup your face, you start giggling. “No, you are not.”

Satoru blinks, confused.

You laugh again, light and teasing. “You are no man of honor.”

And suddenly, your laughter echoes in his mind, filling the room with its taunting melody. It etches itself into his thoughts, leaving an indelible mark.

“You are a coward.”

You entered the drawing room to break your fast, Choso by your side, and immediately locked eyes with Gojo, who was already seated at the table with his mother. He quickly looked away, focusing on the toast he was slathering with an ungodly amount of jam.

As you moved to sit at the table with Choso, you couldn't help but study him. Gojo appeared more disheveled than usual, perhaps a bit fatigued, though any sign of vulnerability quickly vanished when your mother spoke.

“Lord Gojo, it is a fine morning, is it not?” she inquired with her usual warmth.

Gojo smiled, leaning back in his chair with his characteristic nonchalance. “Indeed, Lady Itadori, especially as I am blessed with such lovely company as yourself and your daughter.” His eyes flickered toward you, an arrogant glint in them before they shifted back to your mother.

You and Choso exchanged exasperated glances. 

Your mother chuckled, clearly charmed. “Oh, my lord, you flatter me. Tell me, what do you favor for breakfast? I am always curious to hear of others' preferences.”

“Clearly, it is toast drowned in enough jam to satisfy an army,” you muttered under your breath, delicately spreading butter onto your own toast.

Gojo’s eyes flashed, and he couldn’t resist a retort. “At least I do not indulge in something as dull as butter.”

You stiffened. “Butter is far superior to such overwhelming sweetness. Jam annihilates the taste of the toast itself, rendering it pointless.”

“And butter,” he shot back, “adds nothing but blandness. It is unremarkable, simple, and tasteless.”

A surge of heat rose to your face, ready to deliver another sharp remark, but before you could respond, Duchess Gojo’s lilting laughter filled the room. “Oh, my dears, what a lively couple you make!” Her tone was teasing, her eyes alight with amusement. “Such spirited conversation at breakfast⸺how delightful!”

Both you and Gojo stiffened, your faces flushing, though whether it was from irritation or something else entirely, you couldn’t say. You hastily turned your attention back to your toast, while Gojo busied himself with his tea.

Duchess Gojo clapped her hands together lightly, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Since we are all in such a lively mood this morning, I do believe a game of pall-mall is in order once breakfast is through. The garden is in full bloom, and the weather is perfect for it.”

Your mother smiled graciously. “A wonderful idea, Duchess. It has been some time since we last enjoyed a game.”

“Indeed,” the Duchess agreed. “And I daresay a little friendly competition will do us all good. What do you say, Lord Gojo?” She turned to her son with a knowing look. “I trust you are up for the challenge?”

Gojo leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. “I never shy away from a challenge, Mother. But do be warned, I have no intention of losing.”

“Confidence is a virtue,” you remarked dryly, reaching for your teacup, “but do not let it cloud your judgment. Pall-mall requires more than mere bravado.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow, his smile widening. “Ah, a challenge from you as well. This shall be an interesting morning indeed.”

“Let us hope your skills in the garden match your flair for words, my lord,” you retorted, your tone light (for the sake of preventing your mother a heart attack) but your gaze to Gojo sharp. 

Duchess Gojo’s laughter rang out once more, her eyes gleaming with delight. “Oh, this will be most entertaining! Come now, let us finish our breakfast, and then we shall see who emerges victorious on the field.”

You took a sip of your tea, pointedly ignoring the way Gojo’s gaze lingered on you as you did so. The day had barely begun, and already, you felt the familiar tension of being in his presence. But if there was one thing you knew, it was that you wouldn’t back down from a challenge⸺whether at the breakfast table or in the garden.

Duchess Gojo clapped her hands together, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Now, we must let our diamond choose first. After all, she is the only lady participating today.”

You smiled warmly at her, a polite nod of appreciation. Gojo, however, frowned, his eyes narrowing slightly as he glanced between you and the bag of mallets. “Are we not simply setting her up for victory?”

Turning to him with an innocent smile, you crossed your arms. “What’s that, my lord? Are you unable, as a man, to deal with the loss of your chosen mallet? I know some men depend heavily on certain familiars to win.”

Gojo held your gaze for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a dismissive shrug, he looked away. “Choose whatever you want. I will be sure to defeat you regardless.”

Duchess Gojo placed a warm hand on your back, encouraging you forward. “That’s the spirit, my son. Now, Miss Itadori, do choose which one you fancy.”

You approached the bag of mallets, your eyes scanning over the selection. They varied in subtle shapes and sizes, each one seemingly tailored for a different style of play. Your gaze settled on a mallet slightly larger than the others, painted a light blue shade. Its weight and shape seemed particularly advantageous for aim and control—perfect for directing the ball with precision.

As you picked it up, Gojo’s expression darkened, a hint of irritation flickering in his eyes. “Of course, she chooses the best one,” he muttered under his breath.

“Well,” Duchess Gojo crossed her arms. “I suppose it’s only fair that you all let the lady go first.” She turned to you, nodding. “I will go join your mother for tea inside, my dear.” Winking, she adds, “Show these boys how real ladies do it.”

As the duchess took her leave, Choso, always the supportive brother, leaned over to you with a small smile. “Excellent choice, sister. Show them how it’s done.”

You gave him a grateful nod and positioned yourself for your turn. With a graceful swing, you sent the ball rolling smoothly across the lawn. Choso clapped in approval, but when you looked up, Gojo and Yuji were both glowering at you from the sidelines.

Gojo’s lips curled into a smirk, clearly not amused by your success. “Beginner’s luck,” he commented dryly. Yuji could only nod in mindless agreement to Gojo, and you graced him with a glower. Traitor.

Now it was Gojo’s turn. He stepped forward with confident ease, positioning himself with the mallet as though he had been doing this his entire life. With a swift, practiced swing, his ball shot forward and struck a target dead center. Yuji’s eyes sparkled with admiration, practically beaming at Gojo’s skill.

Choso and you exchanged petulant glances, unimpressed by Gojo’s display. But Yuji’s excitement only grew, and he couldn’t resist praising his mentor. “Incredible, my lord! You never miss!”

Choso’s turn came next. With a focused look, he lined up his shot and knocked Gojo’s ball right out of position, sending it tumbling off course into a forested area. Gojo let out a forced laugh, masking his irritation as best as he could, and you clapped and let out a small, petty giggle. “Good shot, brother! I fear Lord Gojo will have to travel much distance to retrieve and get it on course.”

You would come to bite your words.

When it was Yuji’s turn, he aimed with all his might and sent your ball flying out of position. You gasped in outrage, turning to him with narrowed eyes. “Oh, you will pay for this.”. 

Gojo, on the other hand, gave Yuji a hearty pat on the back, beaming with pride. “Well done, Yuji. Well done.”

It was now your turn, and you stomped your way towards the forested area where you and Gojo’s balls had traveled towards. Soon enough, Gojo was following after you.

The path was shaded by trees, and the coolness of the forest was a welcome relief from the heat of the sun. You could help but give each other glares until you finally broke the silence.

 “How dare you bewitch my brother into turning against me?” you accused him, stepping over a stray root.

Gojo rolled his eyes, a playful smirk on his lips. “It appears that Yuji’s blood is indeed not thicker than water,” 

 “Or maybe⸺just maybe⸺your charm isn’t as infallible as you think.”

Keeping pace beside you, Gojo scoffed. “And yet, here you are, still engaged in conversation with me. I must be doing something right.”

You shoot him an angry sideways glance. “I’m only here because my ball is, unfortunately, in the same direction as yours. Nothing more.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Ah, so it’s mere coincidence that fate keeps pulling us together.”

“More like unfortunate circumstance.”

The two of you continued bickering as you searched for your wayward balls. The back-and-forth banter echoed through the forest, neither of you willing to back down.

Finally, you spotted them⸺your ball and Gojo’s⸺resting precariously on top of a narrow stream of water. You both halted, glancing at each other, and then, without a word, you raced forward.

Gojo reached the water’s edge first, but you weren’t far behind. Neither of you hesitated as you waded into the shallow stream, your focus entirely on retrieving your respective balls. The bottoms of your clothes became soaked in the cool water, but neither of you paid it any mind, too busy grappling to reach your goals first.

Just as you managed to scoop up your ball, your dress snagged on something in the water. You stumbled forward, colliding directly into Gojo, who had just retrieved his own. The sudden impact sent both of you toppling into the water.

You landed squarely on top of him, the shock of the fall leaving you momentarily dazed. Gojo blinked up at you, his breath catching as his gaze dropped to your now-dampened bodice, honing in on your bosom. For a moment, his usually sharp and calculating eyes softened, confusion flickering across his face as if he didn’t quite understand the effect you were having on him.

You scrambled to find your words, unsure of what to say. “I didn’t mean to⸺”

Before you could finish, Gojo gently grasped your shoulders and helped you off of him. He stood up first, his expression uncharacteristically serious as he brushed off his wet clothing and offered you a hand. You took it, steadying yourself as you rose to your feet.

Gojo swallowed hard, clearly at a loss for words. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then quickly closed it, shaking his head. “I must go,” he muttered,.

Without another word, he turned and left, leaving you standing there in the stream, confused and flustered as you watched him disappear into the trees.

“I am not impressed.” Nobara impassively stares you down with a glower.

You fluttered your fan, maintaining a delicate air of mock innocence. “Whatever do you mean, my dear friend?”

The two of you sat at a small table on the terrace, its stone surface warm from the midday sun. Before you, the expansive field served as Gojo’s personal training ground, scattered with targets and archery equipment. Gojo and his protégé, Yuji, had clearly been at it for hours, their bare skin glistening with sweat under the relentless sun. They moved with a practiced ease, their focus entirely on the task at hand.

Gojo was currently demonstrating a particular stance to Yuji, his voice carrying faintly over the terrace as he corrected the younger man’s posture and grip. Yuji, ever the diligent student, watched him with an intensity that bordered on awe. You couldn’t help but reflect that his expression now⸺determined and assured⸺contrasted much with his encounter with you at the game. 

Nobara’s eyes narrowed as she regarded the scene. “Why are we here?” she asked flatly, her gaze lingering on the two men.

You turned to her with a smile, fluttering your fan with exaggerated elegance. “Why, to record in my journal, of course. One must capture the beauty of Mother Nature when it presents itself so generously from this terrace.”

Her expression remained unimpressed. “Is it truly Mother Nature that has captivated you, or Lord Gojo’s bare skin?” She glanced down at your unopened journal, its quill resting untouched beside it. “And how much progress have you made in this recording of yours?”

You couldn’t suppress a laugh, caught in your own half-hearted excuse. “Well, even you cannot deny that he presents a rather fine figure, can you? And I will get to my writing in due time. Inspiration must first strike, after all.”

Nobara sighed, folding her arms across her chest. “I cannot fathom how you find pleasure in looking upon a man who has caused you so much distress. Many times, in fact.”

You glanced back toward the field, watching as Gojo effortlessly pulled back his bowstring, the muscles in his back rippling with the movement. His form was impeccable, each action a demonstration of his skill and strength. Yuji, in contrast, struggled to replicate the motion with as much ease and accuracy, though his determination was evident.

"He’s clearly enjoying himself," you commented dryly, turning your attention back to Nobara. "Torturing me, that is. I might as well make due of my harrowing and demeaning stay here and enjoy some aspects of Gojo. I swear, he delights in the fact that I’m stuck here."

Nobara’s eyes narrowed, and she snorted. "Oh, absolutely. Men like him don’t get much amusement in life unless it involves making someone else miserable."

You shook your head, remembering the library encounter all too vividly. Gojo had seemed genuinely surprised to find you there, and yet he had taken to taunting you with his usual smugness. That infernal smirk of his had been etched into your memory.

"I almost wonder," you mused, "if he was actually shocked to find me in the library. Perhaps I caught him off guard for once."

Nobara raised an eyebrow. "What were you doing? Looking for a book on how to survive insufferable dukes?"

You chuckled softly. "No, I was reading about Venus, actually. But Gojo⸺he assumed I was indulging in some silly romance. Imagine his surprise when he realized I was working on calculations instead."

Nobara’s lips twitched upward in amusement, but before she could respond, a loud thud! echoed across the terrace. Both of you looked down just in time to see Gojo's arrow hit the target dead center.

You rolled your eyes. Of course, he would show off. That insufferable man never missed an opportunity to flaunt his skills. Yuji, predictably, looked like he was about to faint from admiration.

Gojo notched another arrow, his back muscles rippling as he drew it back with practiced ease. His abs tightened with the effort, and though you told yourself you were merely observing his technique, your gaze lingered a moment longer than necessary. The tautness of his form was, undeniably, impressive.

“It is a shame,” Nobara remarked, her voice breaking through your thoughts. “He does present a rather fine figure. If only his character matched his appearance.”

You blinked, realizing that your gaze had lingered on him for far too long. “What?”

Nobara glanced at you, her expression half-amused, half-pitying. “I merely observe that if his manners were as well-formed as his physique, he might be a most agreeable companion.”

You opened your fan again, waving it lightly in front of your face. “Perhaps. But we both know that appearances can be deceiving.”

Nobara’s expression turned serious as she looked at you. “You must find yourself a husband who is both well-formed and well-mannered, my dear. Else I shall be forced to gouge out my eyes every time I am called to attend on you.”

You sighed dramatically, closing your fan with a soft snap. “Whatever you say, Nobara.”

Yet, even as you dismissed her words, your gaze drifted back to the field. Gojo was a puzzle, indeed. And whether you liked it or not, he had captured more of your attention than you were willing to admit.

Satoru is sweaty and hot, and therefore he must rush back to take a cold bath. 

The weather is quite warm, he must admit to himself. Teaching Yuji had been nothing sort of pleasurable; the boy’s physical prowess was quite impressive, and he learned things very, very fast. If Yuji were to keep learning and working on his skill, he would easily be up to Gojo’s level or even surpass him. 

As he climbs up the stairs to the terrace, he wipes his brow, which has budded with sweat. When he crosses a table that overlooks the field, he notices a book. His mother and him wouldn’t expose any books like this⸺a fine and intricate design covering the top⸺to the harsh, humid weather, so he picks up the book, frowning.

Frowning, he picked it up, curiosity getting the better of him. The book felt unfamiliar in his hands, and as he opened it, the words within seemed to swim before his eyes. Annoyed, he rubbed the sweat from his forehead and squinted, finally making out the fine, neat handwriting on the page.

I confess, there is something intoxicating about the notion that women might be more than what society has so neatly confined us to be. Is it truly so outlandish to consider that we, too, possess minds capable of great thought and spirits yearning for freedom?

Satoru's eyes widened, and a flicker of intrigue sparked within him. He flipped to the next page, where the writing grew messier, more hurried.

Indeed, God truly blesses the wrong soldiers with features such as his. However, I take pride in being one of His strongest for I possess the fortitude to resist the temptation of ending Gojo’s miserable existence myself.

His eyes widened. If he had been intrigued before, now he was thoroughly captivated. This had to be you. His heart began to beat faster as he quickly turned to another page, where the ink was still fresh, and a pressed leaf lay nestled between the pages.

If I were to base my choice of husband solely on physical appearance, I must confess that Lord Gojo would be a most compelling candidate. However, to consider him without regard to his character would be a grave disservice to myself and to dear Nobara, who would bear the consequences of such a choice daily.

I hold out hope for a suitor with a similar strength of physique, one whose form displays power and grace, much like Gojo. His muscles, so clearly defined, speak of formidable strength and control—his back rippling with every pull of the bowstring, his breath labored as he steadies himself.

Alas, such attributes, though appealing, are not enough…

His fingers hovered over the delicate page, the words sinking in. A part of him wanted to laugh at your sharpness, your refusal to fall prey to his charms, but another part⸺one that kept resurfacing and resurfacing against his will, showing up even in his slumber⸺felt something else entirely.

…What a pity, indeed.

prev. the manor | next. the fall

general masterlist | series masterlist

a/n i feel like the only important plot point in this chapter is that gojo is a boobs guy

sorry if this chapter was a little icky :( i prefered publishing this than having to subject my dear beta reader to having to edit this mess or even me having to think about it further. i will rest so that the next chapter is better <3 (lots of fluffy moments to come in the next one)

gojo when you spawned in his bedroom

will finally treat myself to answering asks after I wake up since i'm done with this dreadfull chapter <333 jesus it's 3am

comment, reblog, and send in an ask to let me know ur thots :3 memes are also appreciated <3

TAGLIST

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@byhuenii @geniejunn @a-girl-with-thoughts @dazedin2d @chuuqxs

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@undercooked-chaos-noodle @jaegersity @camzzn @bluelai @1sweetheart1

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@soobssedwithyourex @manyno @samkysnks @stefnarda @bbqsauceonmytitties2

[enchantedflameandflower]

billy teaching his girl how to smoke a cig would be so attractive

I feel like maybe they would go out to a bar or something and in like a tipsy confession she says “i’ve never smoked” or something like that ”idk how to smoke properly im always coughing its so embarrassing blah blah blah”

Need my man to guide me through it

Billy x you! Nsfw 18+ only for smoking, smut, piv, creampie, hint of exhibitionism

Thank you SO MUCH for this ask anon! Once I got the idea for the vibe it just took off. Hope you all enjoy!

~

It’s late, almost midnight, and you’re sitting up on the roof of your apartment building with Butcher and a cold bottle of beer each. The air is a little chilly but not bad and no one else seems to ever come up here so it’s nice. You’d met Butcher at the bar but it had been crowded and annoying so you’d invited him back to your place. 

The building seems to be mostly made up of elderly people but you love it. They’re kind and quiet and you love being able to help them when they need. The random baked goods you receive from time to time don’t hurt either. There’s one old lady specifically that Billy has charmed completely. He’s definitely got her wrapped around his little finger, that one. 

And you enjoy the quiet at night. You’re sitting cross-legged on a sort of concrete platform on top of the roof that’s at the perfect height. Billy is sitting next to you, his big booted feet planted on the ground of the roof.

You can’t help glancing over at him, and you know affection is shining in your eyes but you can’t help it and you don’t care. You’d started this sort of friends with benefits casual thing a couple months ago but you were falling for him hard and you knew it. Yeah, he was rough around the edges, really rough, but there was so much more to him and you had never cared what anyone else thought. 

And damn if he wasn’t the sexiest thing you’d ever seen. Tall, dark and brooding as fuck. 

“I thought you quit,” you murmur, nodding toward the cigarette he’s puffing lazily next to you. 

He smirks. “I did. Don’t know what ‘cher talkin’ ‘bout.” He takes another drag then holds it out toward you.

You pause for a second but then you take it between your fingers. “I always feel like I’m not doing it right…” you half joke. “And then I just cough.”

Billy looks at you. “All this time on planet ‘earf and ya don’t know how to smoke proper? It ain’t that hard, love…” He grins mischievously. “Just wrap those pretty lips ‘round and suck. But slowly, not too much. An’ let it out slow like, too.”

You nod, pursing your lips around the cigarette but Billy scoots closer immediately. 

“Not so tight, love, relax. Little more slack…ya know, like how ya move your lips when me cock’s slidin’ in.”

You’re immediately pulling the cigarette out of your mouth as your cheeks flush. “Butcher!” 

He just grins and inches back on the platform before he tugs on your wrist, pulling you to sit in his lap and guiding your hand back up. “Try again.”

You try not to think about how good his hard thighs feel beneath you and put the end of the cigarette up to your lips but let it rest there between the two instead of gripping it. You take a slow inhale in, and then slowly blow it out again, watching as the swirl of white smoke drifts gently away. 

Butcher squeezes your hip. “There ya are, doll, see?” he grins, his dimple showing and you know he’s thinking his metaphor is what made all the difference.

“You’re a menace,” you murmur, handing the cigarette back to him. 

Butcher takes a long drag, then after a moment lets go. The thick smoke curls out from his full lips and between the both of you as he exhales. There’s something so fucking sexy about the way he does it and the glimmer in his eyes as he catches you looking at him. He continues to exhale, the smoke kissing your mouth. You breathe it in, swearing you can taste him on it. 

Holding the cigarette up to your mouth again, Butcher watches as you pull lightly and his dark hazel eyes go even darker with heat.

The look makes you squirm in his lap and his big hand clenches your waist. “Ya keep that up and I’m gonna end up takin’ ya right here on this concrete,” he threatens - promises? - a low husk to his voice now. 

Yeah…the thought of that and his gruff tone make you wet for him immediately. It’s been a couple weeks since the last time you slept together and suddenly now you need him so much it hurts. 

He must be able to tell by the look on your face because the corner of his mouth lifts in a wicked smirk. “Ya like that idea, dontcha doll?” 

“Maybe…” you murmur and he tsks at you. He gives you the cigarette and you hold it up to your mouth again as his hand slips down between your thighs. Your leggings and your thin underwear do next to nothing to shield your already throbbing clit from his rough fingers.

He presses in firmly, rubbing his fingertips in a little circle, and his smile widens. “I can already tell, hot and slick for me, aren’t ya.”

Two can play this game, you think. Leaning forward, you bite his full lower lip and he growls, sliding his hand in your hair and tugging you close to capture your mouth fully with his. He tastes like cigarettes and beer and something uniquely him, masculine and rich.  

His tongue slides over yours, hot and possessive and it turns your insides to jelly, somehow making you want him even more when you thought you were already at the max. You moan into his kiss as his tongue strokes into your mouth. The sensation makes you shiver, your center throbbing for him, clenching around nothing. How you wish he was already buried inside you. Butcher holds you closer against him and only breaks the kiss when you push at his chest, gasping softly for air. 

His eyes are dark with need and his gaze is intense. His eyes flick to your lips and you know they must be swollen and pink from his kiss. Your breath is still coming in little pants but you panic a little under his steady stare.

“What?” you ask, a little scared of the answer, but the look in his eyes is making you think crazy stupid things that couldn’t possibly be real, you had to be dreaming…

“Ya don’t even know how bloody gorgeous you are, do ya?” he husks. 

“I - ” you swallow, your muddled brain trying to make sense of what he was saying. Fuck. His hand is still pressed between your thighs and you groan as he shifts you closer. The motion presses his thick knuckle right against your cunt.

“Fuck Billy…need you, please…” you gasp, wriggling against his hand, your eyes fluttering closed.

You don’t want to wait to go back downstairs, you don’t want to wait another second, you want him right here, right now out in the open air, all of his teasing way too much to bear. You’ll beg for it if you have to.

But you don’t. 

Billy is moving the instant you stop speaking. He lets go of you to strip his battered old coat off and you squeak, throwing your arms around his neck, the cigarette still between your fingers, to keep from getting dumped right off his lap.

He tosses his coat on the cement next to you then reaches down to pull your shoes off, before standing and flipping you over to lay you down across his coat. 

“Such a gentleman,” you tease, smiling up at him from your prone position. The cement is still cold and hard beneath you and his coat, but you don’t care and you know you’ll appreciate the lack of cement burn in the morning. 

“Oi, when am I not?” he grins devilishly  and before you can answer he’s pulling your leggings down your long legs, and everything else with them, stripping you bare from the waist down.

He catches your gaze, then his big hand slides from your hip to your side, pushing your shirt up. He bends down to nip and bite at your stomach then drags his mouth over your skin, beard tickling and rubbing, until he reaches your breasts. You wiggle and arch to help him push your shirt and bra up the rest of the way under your arms until you’re naked from your tits down, spread out for him on the cement platform in the night air.

“You’re a fuckin’ sight, ain’t ya,” he rumbles, his eyes taking their fill of you as his rough hands smooth over your body and the chilled air licks at all your naked skin. “Think anyone can see?” He glances up to the right of you, at a taller building next to this one that clearly has lights in some of the windows. 

You whimper, squirming and closing your eyes. “Oh god…” you breathe. 

“Splayed out naked, out in the open here and practically beggin’ for me,” he hums.

“Billy,” you gasp. You aren’t sure if you want to just hurry up and get it over with or if you’re actually going to explode with pent up lust but either way you need him to fuck you now.

Billy seems to acquiesce and he palms your breast, tugging at your tight nipple with one hand while the other undoes his buckle and the button of his jeans. 

He takes the cigarette out of your hand and puts it back in his mouth, holding it with his teeth and taking another long puff as he unzips his jeans, pushing them just low enough on his hips so his thick cock can spring free. He flicks the cigarette aside on the cement then uses both hands to tug on your hips, pulling you to the edge. 

“Fuck…Billy,” you groan as he slots his swollen length against your slick cunt and presses your thighs further part then starts to push in. 

“Don’t need to tell me twice…” he rumbles. 

You stretch for him as he slides inside you, but he’s so big and you have to take a breath to relax enough to take him all the way. 

“So fuckin’ tight,” he groans in a gruff voice, and he shifts to slip his thumb over your clit to help ease his way inside. 

The moment the tip of his thumb circles the slick, tight bud, pleasure bursts inside of you and he thrusts all the way in, filling you up. 

It’s so good. You cry out loud, then quickly lift your hand to cover your mouth and muffle the sound but Billy grabs your wrist, pulling your arm away. “N‘uh…need to hear ya, love. Need to know how much you need my cock…”

“Everyone will…hear…” you whimper as he thrusts inside you again. 

“Won’t know it’s you, doll. Let them listen. Let them hear how good my cock makes you feel…”

All you can do is moan as he thrusts again and then again, his fingers teasing at your stiff nipple and then your clit again, driving you mad, always knowing where to go next. But you need more, you need all of him. 

“Harder…please…Billy…” you moan, clenching around his cock as he buries it deep, gripping the edges of his coat with your fingers. 

“Tha’s my good girl,” Butcher growls, thrusting harder and picking up his speed, hitting that perfect spot inside of you over and over.

You’re crying out with each deep thrust now and you don’t care who hears. When you wrap your legs around his hips, he leans down and presses against you, catching your shoulders and holding on as he groans against the curve of your neck. You can feel the vibration from his chest just as he thrusts, hitting every nerve ending on the way. It makes you cry out loud again, desperate and wanton. The sound echoes off the brick walls, making you blush harder as the pleasure of it zings straight to your clit. Fuck why does it turn you on even more…and it’s so annoying how quiet he can be even when he’s making you crazy. 

After another moment though, all thought leaves your mind and all you know is how fucking good Billy feels as you balance on the knife edge of bliss. The base of his cock pushes right against your clit as he gives one last hard thrust and then starts to pulse deep inside of you. It’s more than enough to make you come too. You’re crying out his name before you can stop yourself in choked moans and gasps that can definitely be heard in the next building as your body shudders in overwhelming pleasure.

Butcher slumps against you as he finishes emptying himself in your body and you curl your arms around his neck, your cunt still fluttering around him as the waves of pleasure from your climax only slowly start to abate.

The cigarette lays forgotten going cold beside you as he finally pushes himself up and tucks his cock away. You can still feel his come leaking out of you, mixed with yours, warm and sticky on your thighs but you can’t even find the energy to cover yourself.

When he starts to slide your clothes back on for you, you make a little noise, tiredly protesting at the mess still between your legs, but he hums and shakes his head, the corner of his mouth lifting in that smirk he has with a glint in his hazel eyes. “Have to wait ‘til we get back down to your flat, love. You like it, dontcha? Feelin’ what ya made me do?” he adds, his voice still gruff and low with sex. 

You make a sound of resignation but it is kind of hot, his small possessive way of marking and claiming you. You’re his.

When he has your bottom half dressed again, he grabs your hand and tugs you up, helping you pull your bra and shirt back in to place. You feel completely boneless and blissed out, and you quirk your lips in a half smile as you look up at him. “Fuck Billy…” you whisper. 

He chuckles softly and pulls you close against his broad chest in a hug, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Let’s get ya back inside and practice some more with that pretty mouth o’ yours, love, eh? Need ya too much.”

~*~*~ Thanks again anon, hope you like! Also thanks to @butchersdarkbird for letting me chat about it, @shirley-girly for giving me the perfect idea for a line for Billy on her reblog of a previous post and @dwinchesterspie1967 for the idea of including extra of his devilish smirk ❤️

@jynx15 @kus-babygirl @weallhaveadestiny @karlurbanism

@dustie-faerie @violent-darkness @bohemianblasphemy

karl urban masterlist

[fanaticsnail]

Pretty Red Ribbon

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 2,700+

Synopsis: After your birthday was ruined last year at the hands of a certain pink-feather-donning, glasses-wearing gentleman who you love to hate, your fellow warlord, Sir Crocodile, gives you a little gift you did not expect to darken your doorstep.

Themes: Doflamingo x f!reader, birthday, enemies to lovers, nsfw themes, suggestive content, not explicit - but mdni just in case, warlord!reader, platonic crocodile x reader, dom!reader x sub!doflamingo, gendered terms used

Notes: I had been wanting to write for Doflamingo for a while, and the art by @wesaier gave me the final shove that I needed to get it done. (Their Rosinante also has me in a chokehold. I adore their work. Also, happy birthday!) First time writing a proper fic-length for Doffy before his series.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @carrotsunshine @vespidphoenix @mfreedomstuff

The soft growl of the den-den-mushi atop your kitchen bench began rattling and humming in an awakened dance. The steam from the scorching water in the kettle whistled in unison to the rumbling call, the rattle of teacups on trays causing your attention to pull in a variety of directions in your large kitchen.

“I’ll get it, Miss,” your employee called from the corner of the room, his body carrying his vast height towards the den-den in three lengthy strides. He picked up the transponder end of the snail, elevating the mouth and earpiece to his face. Thanking him with a smile, you returned to continue readying yourself a cup of your desired tea. 

“You really shouldn’t be making this for yourself, Miss,” your lady’s maid addressed you over your shoulder, “You employ us to take care of you and your needs. You should let us do our jobs and spoil you, especially on a day like today-.”

“-And that will be the last I hear about anything regarding ‘today’, Dinah,” you scolded her with a playful wink, “It’s just another day, and I would like to have it remain as such,” you moved the loose-leaf strainer in your teapot, collecting the remnants of the scorched leaves and discarded them, “Besides, I always love being in the kitchen with you all after another stupid meeting at the world-government headquarters. They always seem to gather any excuse to call us all in: exercising their rights as masters and holders of the tight leash. Absolute bastards, the lot of them.”

“And we adore you down here, Miss,” Dinah lulled her head on your shoulder and laced her hands around your midsection, “We love the gossip about the other warlords, and we always enjoy hearing about your day. You take such good care of all of us, but I think we all just wish you’d let us celebrate your birthday-.”

“-Absolutely not, Dinah,” you giggled at the younger woman embracing you, unlacing her hands from your waist and collecting your teacup and saucer from the tray you had prepared, “Last time I attempted to celebrate this day, I was held up for a multitude of times because that stupid Donquixote continued to ask stupid questions that had the meeting at the marine base go overtime. Missed reservations, didn’t make it to check in time at the homestead - and didn’t even get to enjoy that bottle of wine I ordered for myself. I swore that would be the last time I attempted to celebrate, and that’s that.”

“Just because your last birthday was ruined last year doesn’t mean you should swear them all off, Miss,” your handmaid smiled at you, “We’d adore making you feel special if you’d let us. Today is free of Donquixote Doflamingo, after all.” You growled at just the mention of his name, feeling your disdain elevating in your throat as a sour bile. 

“I despise that tall pelican man. I loathe him, hate him even,” you confessed, prompting Dinah to huff a small laugh in response. You groaned out more frustrated admissions to your lady’s maid, “I would have him drawn and quartered, hung and splayed, whipped and chained. I could wring his neck and spit in his face if I knew the sick bastard wouldn’t like it.” 

“I’m sure he would appreciate any scrap of your attention,” Dinah teased you with a sly tone, her eyes twinkling with mischief, “He seems to vie for your head to turn, by any means necessary.”

“He vexes me, torments me,” you continued, much to your handmaid's delight, “He needs to be knocked down a couple of pegs. Be made to crawl on all fours and beg like a dog-.”

“-Apologies for the interruption, Miss. I’m sorry to disturb your polite conversation,” the larger man holding the den-den-mushi to his ear held out the earpiece and transceiver to you, “Sir Crocodile is on the other end of the call. Says he has something for you.” You groaned out an exasperated breath before taking the shell into your hand.

“Thank you, Arturo. I’m sorry you had to hear that. I got a little fiery for a moment there,” you nodded to the man, who straightened his back before taking your saucer from your hands. He smiled down at you, moving to his place next to Dinah, anchoring his hips and leaning back against the sink with a smirk.

“What’s the call about?” Dinah whispered in a hushed rush to Arturo beside her.

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” Arturo hushed back his own scratchy whisper, attempting to hold back his laughter. You shot them both a sharp look, your smirk still drawn up on your pursed lips. 

You raised the end to your ear and huffed out a sigh, calling into the piece, “Sir Crocodile? To what do I owe the pleasure of your voice gracing me today?” A rumble of silence purred through the receiver against your ear, a lengthy puff of smoke coursing through the grimace of the crocodilian man.

“I heard it was somebody’s birthday,” the rattle of his drawl taunted you through the crackled speaker. You shot your employees a dark look, prompting them to immediately spin on their heels and return to their duties. You groaned as you turned to face away from them, still holding the shell to your ear. 

“Not a cause for celebration, Sir,” you purse your lips, examining your fingernails and cuticles, “But I appreciate your call regardless.” Your tone depicted your smile, truth spilling from your lips as you truly meant every word. 

Sir Crocodile was your closest and oldest ally of all the warlords presented to you. You enjoyed sitting by him, both basking in the aura of one another. You held each other in the highest regard, you could even call each other ‘friend’ without it stretching too far out of the ordinary. What solidified your bond the most with one another was your complete and utter dislike for Donquixote Doflamingo. 

“The appreciation is reciprocated, Highness,” Crocodile’s smirk purred through the receiver, “Which is why I decided to send you a little gift. Should be darkening your doorstep right about now.” 

“Sir Crocodile, while I appreciate the sentiment,” you acknowledge his gesture with a kind and even tone, shaking your head as you take your den-den to the front door of your manor, “The only thing I really want is that feather-wearing asshole: stripped down, bound and gagged, on his lanky knees and looking up with his eyes all watery and pleading,” you reached the door, opening it and shrieking in shock as your eyes met with the gift presented before you.

His body was bound in a thick length of red ribbon, chest bare and hands bound behind his back in seastone cuffs. Pointed glasses lay askew on his face with his lips gagged by a ball strapped to his face. Drool gathered at the base of his chin, his glassy eyes looking up at your face with bewilderment. His bare chest was strangled beneath the red ribbon, his pants hanging limply over his hips as the top button and zipper exposed his slender adonis belt. 

Lips falling slack, you almost dropped the shell from your ear as shock wrote itself over your features. Donquixote Doflamingo was bound, gagged and on his knees on your front doorstep: entirely at your mercy. 

“I thought topping it with a pretty red bow would be too on the nose,” Sir Crocodile called over the mushi, “But he is apprehensively allowing himself to be on the receiving end of your retribution, given his disruption of your last birthday celebration.”

No words gathered in your mind, all thoughts racing as the wealthy Donquixote continued to hold his gaze against your own. His lips trembled around the gag, his brow triangulating in an upward peak as he darted his eyes between yours to gauge your intent. 

He had no idea what possessed him to accept this little adventure, and he did not remember agreeing to be cuffed, gagged and without his entourage. As he witnessed the wicked streak spark within your eyes, he truly had no idea what you were going to do with him like this. Without a whisper of admission to it, he truly did everything in his power to gain your attention and hold it for as long as he could. He’d go through great lengths to be subject to your steely gaze.

Ruining your birthday last year was when he felt he truly went too far. You kept your private life quiet for the most part, only a select few were privy to the knowledge of your innermost thoughts. When he was made aware by Sir Crocodile how far he managed to spoil the occasion, he was given a choice by the cigar-smoking gentleman: “Your left hand, or to be subject to her mercy?” 

He thought he made the appropriate choice. 

Evidently, he did not know the extent Sir Crocodile was going to take his punishment. 

“Do you like your gift, Highness?” the voice cracked through the receiver after several moments pause, “Or would you like to return it? Got one in a similar shade and style?” You giggled into the mouthpiece, prompting Sir Crocodile to chuckle his own sinister laughter. 

“I think I’ll keep it,” you purred, holding your eyes half-hooded as you reached your index finger down to swipe the collected drool from his chin. Doflamingo whimpered as you hooked your finger beneath his jaw, prompting him to fall forward and lean into your touch, “How long do I have it for?” you hovered your face above his, uttering a final question, “And in what condition should I intend to keep it in?”

“Your prerogative, Highness,” Sir Crocodile confessed, drawing up a large breath of smoke in his mouth and exhaling, “Use him, abuse him, torment him, torture him: he is yours to play with for the next fourty-eight hours. Happy birthday, Dear.” At the final utterance, Sir Crocodile clicked the end of the receiver off: leaving your snail to crackle its muffled voice shut. 

You hummed in deep thought, gazing down your nose at the tall man who, even on his knees, is nearly at eye height. Moving his face in your hands, you clicked your tongue as one would when examining an object intended for purchase. He whimpered further when your hands began exploring his torso as you circled his body. Your fingertips felt like lightning on his skin, igniting his expectations and triggering his wanton intrigue. 

“If I remove the gag and seastone cuffs,” you whisper into his ear, trailing your fingertips down his spine, “Will you behave yourself, pelican?” He nodded frantically, lulling his head back on his shoulders to bring himself closer to you. You hummed in thought, hooking your fingers over the material tugging the gag over his lips. 

“Feel better?” you asked him, maneuvering around his body to face him once again, “Less restricted and more of your repulsive self?” 

Taking a moment to roll his tongue in his mouth to regain the sensation, he felt himself relax into your touch as you loosened the cuffs. He moaned as your hands caressed his wrists to reignite the blood flow swelling down into his fingertips. 

“Always so kind,” Doflamingo commented with his signature smirk rising to his lips, “Do you ever grow tired of being so good all the time?” His eyes searched yours, still unsure of how you were going to respond to him on his knees. 

“Would you prefer if I were cruel to you?” you arched your brow up and lowered your tone, “Abused you for my own sick entertainment?”

“You could choke me, flog me, spit in my face - better yet, in my mouth,” Doflamingo listed, his pupils blown with lust beneath his pink glasses, “You could step on me, rake me over nails and hot coals, and all I would say is: ‘thank you for a scrap of your attention’. It is your day, after all.”

“Obsessive and excessive, Donquixote,” you scolded him, tugging at the red ribbon constricting his chest to have him rise to his feet and follow you into your manor, “Why must you always provoke me?” 

“Because I want you,” he whispered after you, a small whine in his voice as he followed closely behind you. His heavy feet trotted like a prized pony after you, allowing you to lead his body throughout the halls to your manor, “I want you so badly. I want all of your attention, all of your focus. I want to be at the very center of your universe, by any means necessary.”

Making eye contact with Arturo and Dinah, both of which shot you quizzical looks as Doflamingo pranced behind you attached to a line of red ribbon. You shot them both a look to forbid them from uttering a single phrase in questioning you, prompting them to hold up their hands in defense. 

“Should I bring you your tea, Miss?” Arturo called after you as you exited the frame of the door to the kitchen, “Perhaps a couple of glasses of wine?” 

“Perhaps later, Arturo. I’ll send for you if I need you,” you mentioned over your shoulder. 

As you looked behind you, there was a foreign expression painted over Donquixote Doflamingo’s face. His cheeks were tinted with a pink dust, his eyes glassy and eyelids half-closed and gazing at you through thick, blonde eyelashes. His signature smirk was replaced by a dumbstruck, goofy smile and his giddiness adamant in each of his pepped steps. 

Scoffing and rolling your eyes at him, you lead him into the master suite of your manor and force him to kneel in the center of the room. You took a seat on your plush armchair and gaze at him disinterestedly. He was all but vibrating in anticipation for your next movement. 

“Anything to say for yourself, Donquixote?” you purse your lips crossing your legs by hooking your right knee over your left and rocking your foot at him. He crawled forward on his knees, hypnotized beneath your cold stare. Eyes meeting with yours, his lips fell agape in a perfect circle as your foot met with his chest to halt his movement. 

Looking down at your heeled shoe, he bowed low enough to brush his forehead in a deep nuzzle against your shin, rocking his head to the side and attempting to become the very picture of innocence. You leant forwards, removing his glasses from his face and glaring into his expressive eyes with a wicked glint. 

“Go on, pet,” you spat down at him, “Unless you have nothing intelligible to offer me in conversation.” He pressed his lips against your shin, grazing his mouth up your legs and inadvertently slotting himself between your knees. 

“Happy Birthday,” he uttered against your skin, pressing a lengthy kiss against your right knee and integrating his entangled self between your legs further, “And I apologize for ruining the one prior.” Peppering kisses over your knee and up your thigh, his tongue flicked out over your flesh and swirled against you. 

Patience wearing thin, you redraw your right foot back over his chest and nudge him backwards to look into his eyes. Your lips curled into a snarl, eyes narrow and accusatory as you gnash your teeth at the tall blonde on his knees in front of you. 

“If you want my forgiveness, Donquixote Doflamingo,” you whisper in a warning tone, danger written over your features enough to cause the large man to shudder beneath your wicked stare, “Beg for it.”

Forty-Eight hours was more than enough time for Doflamingo to become a begging, pleading, whimpering mess beneath your skilled and expert hands. His mind fell blank, his body not experiencing the amount of sensory overload and sensory deprivation with a partner in encounters prior.

He was always the one in control, him only ever taking and taking to provide himself the pinnacle of pleasurable experiences. To be the one out of control, to simply have to take what he was given with his mind vacant of all thoughts aside from being subject to your desires.

The only things he continued to manage to befall from his lips were three phrases: “I’m sorry,” “thank you,” and “forgive me.” Just how you wanted him: complacent, dumbstruck, and all wrapped up in a pretty red ribbon.

[godofautism]

Im kinda rambling about things that bother me

Like why is that if I'm hurt, no trouble is dished out, yet when I retaliate then I'm the one properly getting punished?

I stand by the fact that the school system is rigged and is proper bullshit.

Teachers don't get paid enough, thus don't help. The principals are cowards who are too afraid to do their fucking jobs, and the staff are idiots.

I distinctly remember that the only people I ever liked there were the English teacher, the attendance lady, the librarian, and the janitor.

Everyone else? Awful to some degree and I stand by it.

They hired fucking anti-vaxxer teachers

There were peaceful protests and police officers there more than one time?? Like Jesus fuck dude

I swear on my entire life that school is hell and the staff should be payed less in trade for teachers being paid more. Teachers can do hell of a lot more than some dumbass who punishes you for standing up for yourself

[sonicspacebar]

ALRIGHT TIME FOR ANOTHER OC INTRO (crazyass plane lady part two)

everyone say hi to my favorite bonkers ass space pirate captain herself, Captain Ramdown YEAAAHHHH BABYYYY

Ram is... incredibly high energy and hot headed, and usually pretty quick to rile up. However, she's incredibly loyal to her crew, the *Deadringers". Especially Turbojet, because she inadvertently saved ram's life. She considers all of them family and would quite literally both kill and die for them. She's sorta just a morally questionable wine aunt with a gun. Way too many guns, actually

Coming from a background of straight up resorting to crime for survival, the whole spacefaring pirate crew thing kind of happened by pure accident, but she's by no means complaining. (that part of her bg is still not quite in writing bear with me i swear im working on it)

Even though her crew is known, and feared by many, she makes it a point to take in and protect any refugees trying to flee the war on cybertron and beyond. Whether they want to join or not, she makes sure they are welcome, because most everyone on board was in that same place once. Including herself.

Ram's altmode in present day is an F4u Corsair, painted a shining bright red and white with gold pinstriping. She's greatly interested in Earth aircraft and history in general, having hobbies in gunsmithing and even model collecting, but really couldn't be bothered to blend in. However, she loves sneaking into the occasional airshow, where she actually blends in quite well.

Weapons wise, even though she has equipped blasters and missiles, Ram's go-to is her shotgun, which she fashioned to transform into a cane when not in use. She does actually need to use it for mobility a good majority of the time due to a rapidly deteriorating leg injury she never got the proper care for. She will refuse it bothering her for the sake of her crew, even though it has become quite severe.

[djarinova]

i hateeee when strangers speak to me out of the blue and im too shocked and embarrassed to think of a proper response. wym a kind older lady said i had my hands full when i was walking my two dogs and all i could manage was a little laugh ???? im not rude i swear 😭😭

[toonie-selfships]

Random things im thinking about for Lucky Charms + Lucky64

Charms sometimes wonders if they should of gotten a job at a roller rink instead of an arcade

There have been a few nights were gwimbly and charms have just gotten in the car in the middle of the night to just drive around, they eventually fall asleep wherever they parked

If they ever went hiking gwimbly would probably get carried majority of the way back to the car

Anytime someone she/her's charms gwimbly gets really defensive. Charms minds but knows not everyone knows their preferences. Its really embarrassing trying to keep gwimbly from going ape shit on some poor old lady whos just being nice

Gwimbly will mix up his compliments to keep it fresh, it'll go from beautiful to handsome to gorgeous and it's just a never ending cycle

Charms gets colder a lot easier than gwimbly, he often feels bad for not having a jacket to give them and even if he did his clothing sizes are a tad too small for charms to comfortably wear. So he just uses himself as a warmth since he's like a game console that heats up way too much.

If charms ever gets too stressed they think about starting smoking again but gwimbly is often their reason they dont, even when hes not around.

Gwimbly once got stuck in one of those large claw machines at charms' work. They're still trying to figure out how he even got in there since the prize shute is an automatic mini roller door.

Lucky Charms' tourettes are in their neck and shoulder muscles mostly making their head jerk to the side uncomfortably. This often leads to headaches and neck pains. However it also affects their knees and hands/wrists on occasion too

Their tourettes flare up the most when stressed or whenever someone starts talking about them, or if charms thinks about them too much. Like any tourettes they have their waxing waning phases.

Both gwimbly and charms swear someday they're gonna take the game company to court to get their proper share of money. Charms is desperate for that music revenue

I think i might start a tag list cuz i like sharing things with my friends/mutuals

@gay-selfships , @wulfums , @sweettoothstomp

[nine-i]

xikers song lore analysis +

translation: doorbell ringing

this entire song is so fascinating to me from a lore perspective (and i love the energy from it) because it's a warning to everyone who might interfere with our 3 main characters: xikers, tricky, and the dokkaebi.

(italics are lyrics, bold + italics are translations)

yo, who wants to come in here? ill leave the barricade open

you have to be afraid, this is a danger zone

this section is in a deepened voice, possibly giving the impression of it being tricky? this is a sort of opening like you get on roller coasters in a way. anyone can come in, but make sure you know how dangerous it is and feel the proper emotions. i believe this is speaking to xikers.

relax, deep breath, im running laps oh you bet

yeah i directly swear, your final guest, we X

yechan is antagonising tricky a bit here maybe? final guest, a word which means direct / straightforward, we X. xikers taking over tricky house?

don't breath, watch out, this is silence

open it again, tricky, the house

not much to say here - this is how they're getting through the danger. perhaps they weren't the final guests, perhaps they've won, but i believe they've become a part of the tricky house.

ooh ladies and gentlemen,

this is an especially fun circus,

trouble i make uh,

feel the universe turn to focus

break the speaker as you lose your mind with surprise turned around 180 degrees tumbling

the purge will be thrilling like an electric shock, everything will match the rhythm of a trampoline

this to me indicates that the tricky house is no longer a threat to xikers because they are part of it, and now the danger is what happens next. [note that this was pretty difficult to translate and im not 100% sure on some - i have a new appreciation for minjae now lol]

free yourself, [this goes] deep deep

round and round, constantly round and round

keep out of this dazed feeling

once again i think this is a warning. the singing is continuously warning someone, whether that's towards xikers or towards the next entrants of the house.

(don't don't don't don't) don't kill my vibe, out of control,

that's what i like (what i like),

what about you? (how are you?)

all together (ooh ooh) i hope (let me know)

follow me, let me welcome you promptly to, tricky, the house (don't kill my vibe)

im honestly feeling like this is some sort of internal fight going on within xikers, possibly as the dokkaebi begin to inhabit them.

gotta go gotta go gotta go gotta go,

that door is open

going up going up going up going up,

the boundary is collapsing (dont kill my vibe)

immediate thunder and lightning

don't be surprised [by] tricky, the house

the don't kill my vibe might be the dokkaebi fighting, while xikers are warning and supporting each other through the house (?)

i don't know, where am i? (difficult)

i can hear in my ear rim it's noisy

sound in this house is freaky, ayy

spooky and creepy

this sumin verse is just him freaking out i guess? shows that this house is disorientating and they went in strongly but now they're struggling with it!

i feel dizzy and giddy

my soul leaves, returning my head with a loose screw, escape

the strangeness is leaving [becoming normal]

everywhere is full of screaming, spiritual state of perfect selflessness

have to admit im a bit lost here, its being normalised, perhaps this is the dokkaebi possession arc?

just in case, don't take off your seatbelt,

lose your mind and roll around, zig-zag

where is this place, what is hope,

you're already escaping this, you're falling down

im getting confused but it's using the same words as earlier but with a more hopeless tone - earlier xikers had faith they / we as guests would escape, but they're losing that piece by piece?

free yourself, [this goes] deep deep

round and round, constantly round and round

keep out of this dazed feeling

repetition !

don't don't don't don't) don't kill my vibe, out of control,

that's what i like (what i like),

what about you? (how are you?)

all together (ooh ooh) i hope (let me know)

follow me, let me welcome you promptly to, tricky, the house (don't kill my vibe)

the all together part seems like it's being cut off in both of these parts, i wonder if that's tricky? halting the actual necessary cry and allowing the rest for entertainment perhaps?

gotta go gotta go gotta go gotta go,

that door is open

going up going up going up going up,

the boundary is collapsing (dont kill my vibe)

immediate thunder and lightning

don't be surprised [by] tricky, the house

seems more panicked perhaps

are you, ready, for this, show?

welcome, to the, tricky house

our eyes open in front of

the world's confrontation

im just translating now i think ive lost the plot

(dont kill my vibe) everyone come in together,

(dont kill my vibe) the illusion of the universe

(dont kill my vibe) we are shocked together (dont kill my vibe)

(dont kill my vibe) let me welcome you promptly, tricky the house

xikers are so cool

(dont kill my vibe) woah-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh

(dont kill my vibe) woah-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh

(dont kill my vibe) woah-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh

(follow me) don't be surprised by tricky the house

[wvba-ringside-gossip]

"Greetings sirs and madam! I am William Dubois, humble servant by day and boxer by night. Us gentleman heard about your opinion of the ladies and were curious about what your thoughts were on us!

Thank you kindly and, please, if there is anything I may do for you, do not hesitate to ask! Farewell"

- William Jean Dubois

"Mr Dubois! Wonderful to see you! I remember you from our meeting at the house!" "Jazzy, the question, remember?" "Oh! Yes, apologies! AHEM!"

"So, Of course, I have to mention yourself! I love your attitude and your commitment! It's admirable my good lad! And Kitty, gosh I don't know what it is, but I love his devotion to his pets! Now THAT is a good friend. If I had to pick a least favourite...Oh jeez, I am sorry but I just do NOT like Claude, the way he acts just so...well anyways, yes, those are my picks." "Hooey! I didn't have to think about this one too much! My beautiful boy, Gear! I just love him so, so much! He's a sweetheart! A real charmer! And always knows how to cheer me up! Similarly, I love Peach for almost the same reasons! He's just such a goofball! Me and him love to gab about all the boys from time to time! It's always a hoot!"

"привет! Soda Popinsky here. I am here to translate for Sonya so there is no confusion! Sonya has told Popinsky that her favourite boxer is...wait really??...O-okay, okay. She like Grimm and Seo...she says that she likes Grimm's eerieness...I find that hard to believe...Oh! And apparently, she admires Seo's efforts to change outside of the ring...да After experience with Robin I imagine it set him on right path...or something. Mhm, I see. Apparently she doesn't like Honey, because his smell actually irritates her skin and she can't work on him like that...so that's why he doesn't come in...hm!" "Ours is obvious! Ey, El?" "Oh absolutely!"

"RAHI!!"

"We love him! He's a true bro that's for true! Great fun for Rugby! And he's just a really fun fella!" "Uh-huh! Super cool guy, who really knows how to make everyone feel like...uh what's the word? Whah-no?" "...." "Did I botch that?" "Yes, but it's okay! We can work on it! As for our least fave-" "That BIRDMAN, FUEGO! The way he flirts with all the ladies, no matter where 'e goes I swear he just gets me all angry all over, and for what!? HE'S A BIRD! I COULD KICK 'IS ARSE WELL AND PROPER!" "...Could you?" "...No, but that's beside the point" "I just think he's a little...too playful with the ladies...but hey, we have our fun, messing with the lights alongside Cody!" "He does well with 'em birds though...I guess? So I suppose 'at puts 'im in good taste...only jus' though, I'mma still mess with 'im when I can, Haha!"

[thebookoflcve]

      𝕘𝕚𝕣𝕝𝕤 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕞𝕖 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕔𝕣𝕪 - 𝕒 𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕝 𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕖

|| Breadwinner - Kasey Musgrave || 28 reasons - Selugi || Fearless - Le Sserafim || girls like me don’t cry - Thuy || As it was - Harry Styles || Cry for Me - Twice || Motive - Ariana Grande & Doja Cat || 

_____________________________________________________________

(—) ★ spotted!! SEO SI-EUN on the cover of this week’s most recent tabloid! many say that the 30 year old looks like IM JINAH, but i don’t really see it. while  the ACTRESS is known for being INDUSTRIOUS my inside sources say that they have a tendency to be MELODRAMATIC  i swear, every time i think of them, i hear the song 28 Reasons - Selugi

𝔽𝕦𝕝𝕝 𝔹𝕚𝕠𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕡𝕙𝕪: 

Seo Si-eun lived in Gangnam her entire life looking over the rolling waves of the Han River.. Born to two gluttonous politicians, she had learned from an early age just how important it was to be a proper lady and a snake in the weeds. She spent the majority of her time in some stuffy elitist boarding school, riding horses, tending to Na-ri and forgetting what her parents' face actually looked like; the ultimate cross to bear when you’re the oldest daughter. Despite the expense of her personal autonomy, she loved every second of it. With every accolade, she was showered with luxury gifts which had been the currency of love in her home.

Between all of the refinement and instruction, Si-eun comforted some of that loneliness that she felt with movies. There was something calming about the lovable protagonist, sultry antagonist, and all of the adoring onlookers in between. It was in those moments hidden beneath blankets watching fuzzy old tapes that her true passion crystalized before her.

On the eve of her nineteenth birthday, her very last year of secondary school, she skipped her English course to attend an open audition for the drama Dream High. She landed the role of Kim Pil-sook. From that moment on, her life changed drastically. Si-eun had become a household name and a main staple in Korea. 

Si-eun met her husband on set of one of her dramas and it was love at first sight. The two were fast in love and married quickly after meeting; a side effect of her love starved childhood. After five years and one compromising picture, Si-eun flew off the handle in a melodramatic rage and filed for divorce. 

Since filing, she had effectively used her sister’s decision to come to the United States as a reason to make a splash in the international media and a way to get away from her husband. 

ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤:

The One That Won’t Go Away-  Her ex-husband who is innocent of all insane allegations and really just wants to reunite with his wife. 

Ride or Die - Her second family filled with friends and allies who can handle her emotional outbursts

Golden Hour - A possible fling/friends with benefits situation where emotional attachment is unavoidable. 

Blood is Thicker Than Water - Seo Na-ri <3

Co-workers, scene partners, etc.

[redrydersrequiem]

Reunited ch 3

Previous chapter. Next chapter

Thank you for everyone who’s read this. I’m trying my best to write I’m still a baby writer. Bold is Navi

Updated 7/10/23

Miles pov

After checking in on Spider and seeing he got a clean bill of health I took him with me to get some proper clothes. Just looking at him was making me cold.

“Here kid” I say , throwing a bundle at him.

“What! I'm not wearing this.”

“Kid, I ain't asking, I need these people to see you as an asset and right now you smell horrible so you're going to go get cleaned up and changed while I try and find your momma.”

“Wait find her, what happened, is she ok? Did you do something to her for helping me?’ He says throwing the bundle to the ground and trying to advance on me. The kids ready to fight read to scour the ship to try to find the women he's met once really. I know it's wrong, this feeling of knowing what I said to the general would work. But I can’t help but feel proud of him. Proud he's willing to protect his mom. However the nagging feeling in the back of my mind to stay on track won't go away.

“Just give me a break kid ok, now go get cleaned up, i have other things to do.” I finish my sentence by taking the co mask and breathing out of it for a while. I almost miss being outside, being able to breathe normally.

Spider picks the bundle back up and goes off to the bathroom after some time he comes back now clean of the paint and mud that was all over him now in some board shorts and a regular tshirt, no shoes though well whatever i'll count this as a win for now. Grabbing Spider , a new mask and pack we set off to find y/n. I have a pretty good feeling the others took her back to our area.

We cross the threshold and switch masks, Spider putting his on and me finally being able to take mine off. The doors open and I see my team. Lopes prager, brown and ja are all playing cards. Walker and Fike are arm wrestling while Warren and Zhang cheer them on.

Spider just looks around in awe at all the giant stuff around him. We continue on into thee training area where i see Lyle and z-dog standing watching something

“Wainfleet, Zdinarsk where’s y/n” Getting closer i see the answer to my question currently pummelling a poor punching bag

“Shit she's pissed.”

“Yeah it was everything we could do not to be on the receiving end of that”. Z states as she continues to watch your rage on

“Yeah colonel we left that for you to deal with.”

“Well thanks for that lady’s. Shit well, good thing I came bearing gifts. Stay here for a second kid don't need you getting in the middle of this.”

“Yeah, let's not let him see mommy and daddy fight.” Z says sarcastically to me

“It won't be much of a fight, more a show of the Colonel getting beat up” Lyle adds with a laugh as he fist bumps Z . I was definitely going to get back at those two insubordinates, I swear.

I keep walking over to y/n. She’s sweating and clearly riled up with how fast her tail is swinging behind her. I hear z and Lyle making bets on who's going to win with Spider chirping up that she'll win great, at least I know he's not scared.

“Y/n”.

At her name she stills , catching the bag with both arms so it stops swaying in front of her.

“Y/n?”

She turns quickly, leveling me with a hard gase. Her ears are twitching back and forth, her tail standing at aleart.

“Now darlin just hear me out” is all i get out before she starts taking swipes at me.

I dodge to the best of my ability not really wanting to fight her since i know im wrong this time. Not that i would admit it.

I go to bring my right arm up blocking her punches but she just grabs onto me kicking at my ankle to pull me off balance, now on the ground she straddles me all i can do is put up my arms to protect my face as she keeps raining punches

“You let them take our son.”

“Darlin, look over there the kids fine, he's safe and sound and he wont leave your side again, i swear.”

“He's our son Miles, our son, not just some kid.

Finally having enough of her punches I grab both her wrists tightly holding them to her side

“I know, I know darlin, it’ll be fine just ease up on me mamas you're gripping a little hard” All I can focus on is her toned legs around my waist bringing up fond memories. Of us being in this same position about 17 years prior

Y/n pov

I just shake my head at his stupid sly grin and ungrapple him, letting him up I walk over to Lyle, Z-dog and spider, the latter of the group exchanging candys, I'm guessing they bet on who would win.

Coming to a standstill in front of the boy. All i can get out is just “Hi”

It takes everything in me not to grab him and hold him to me. Wanting the reassurance he's actually Here, and I didn't just make it all up. I dropped to my knees so we’re somewhat the same height

“How do you feel, has everyone taken care of you? I unconsciously lifted my hand wanting to grab and look him over. He just grabbed my finger in his hand and smiled at me.

“Yeah um quartich got me looked at “

“He did?” I say turning back to level my gaze at the marine behind me. He just steps back raising his hands in defense, not wanting to get another lashing.

“Good. I see you got some fresh clothes too.

“Yeah.”

“Well is there anything else you need are you hungry or anything

“I'm fine,uhh thank you.”

I feel the tears welling up and everyone can see it

“I know this may be a lot but can I hug you…..please”

I can see the decisiveness pass through his eyes before he bounds up to me wrapping his small arms around my neck. I just breathe him in. Enjoying the feeling of my child finally back in my arms. He looks much cleaner than the last time I saw him but he definitely needs a haircut. I can still see stuff stuck in the dreads at the ends

“I do have to ask, sweetie, when was the last time you clean, cleaned your hair?”

“Uhhhhhhhh”

“It’s fine sweetie it's just I know the colonel got you to clean up a little but you still have some stuff stuck in here.” I take my hands to his hair and pull out a full twig. Spider blushes but I just smile and laugh holding him still by my side.”

“I guess i do need to get it cleaned.”

“Id be more than happy to help you if you’d like “

“Uh yeah that would be nice”

I smile at my baby taking in his face for the millionth time

“Ok well why don't you go with aunty z and uncle Lyle and hang out with the others while i go get cleaned up ok.”

“Ok “

I stand staring at the two recoms in front of me `Take care of him please”, is all I say but they can definitely hear the underlying threat that if anything happened to him they would get worse treatment than their colonel just did. So they both just vigorously shake their heads yes and take spider over towards the others. I walk away going towards the showers hearing miles heavy footsteps following behind. I don’t even bother looking his way or feeling shy as I take off all my gear to finally wash off. Running through a jungle and then finding my now grown son, the pounding headaches I’ve had since and the hatred im feeling for the rda right now are just the tip of the iceberg

“Darlin you gonna talk to me.” Miles asks from behind me. Sitting on one of the benches just staring at the wall beyond me

“I don’t really know what to say to you.”

“Darlin you understand why we're here right”

“Yes I do but that doesn’t mean I have to agree with it especially if it enrolled my son”

“Our son”

“No no you don’t get to say that after letting them take him you don’t get to…to.” I feel strong arms wrap around me holding me as I finally cry, finally let out the emotional frustration that has been building since waking up in this new body.

Miles held me close, the hot water pouring over both of us. I feel his remorse through his body. Even just him letting me beat on him earlier showed how guilty he felt. My tears have dried as I feel miles kissing my shoulder and neck. I just pull away from him. Staring up at his handsome blue face. His eyes say thousands. All his emotions are betrayed by his eyes. I don't have it in me to be upset with him anymore and smile back at him. His cute tail stands up as he pulls me close again, kissing my lips before continuing to kiss up and down my neck.

“Your all wet now.” is all i can get out as i feel my body start to heat up and it’s not from the water

“I don’t care”. He just continues to kiss me leaving marks as he goes. I just drag my hands to the front of his shirt, grasping the hem to drag it up and over his head.

(Insert smut here. I don't know how to write smut yet sooo yeah sorry use your imaginations if i learn how to write it i'll come back and change this)

Once we’re both clean and changed into new clothes that I had to go get since Miles didn’t bring any of his own.

We both make our way back over to the others; they're all now at the poker table. Everyone’s trying to keep on their poker faces but Spider's face makes me smile, the comically large cards in his hands and his concentrated face. I go up behind him and see that he actually has a good hand. But I can tell he has no idea as he just looks up at me with a huge smile on his face before going back to look serious. Patting the top of his head I just take some cards and show him how he should play his hand when it comes his turn.

Lyle smirks as he sets his cards down the others all groaning as they lose, as he goes to scoop up the pot towards him, i just smile and stop him. He playfully glares back in challenge as i nudge Spider to show his hand. Everyone cheers as Lyle falls over dramatically in defeat.

Miles pov

Everyone’s goofing off and laughing, and it warms my heart. I can feel the old colonel in my mind telling me to get back on task but the longer I stare at y/n and spider, the more I hear the others' joy the less prominent that voice becomes.

Spider now stands on the table as everyone fake bows to his card prowess. Y/n just stand behind them all laughing with a beautiful smile on her face. I wish i could capture the moment. This is what should’ve been, and ill be damned if it gets taken away from me again.

Your pov

Now that the game is over i pick spider off the table and set him back on the ground.

“Ok kid did you decide what you want to do with your hair.”

“Uhh yeah i guess cutting it would be the best option but not too short ok i don't want to look like Wainfleet.

Lyle just gaps at spider while everyone else laughs, poking fun at the bald soldier

“I can’t blame him, Corporal, I'd hate to look like you ugly blue ass to thank god the kids at least got taste,” Miles says poking fun at his oldest friend.

“Just so you know I can grow hair, this is just a choice ok.”

“Yeah sure whatever you say.”

“Hey, I'm better than you, old man.”

I just laugh as the two grown men go on to fight like kids. It’s nice to see them so playful but it also reminds me how old we are now, all of us back to being in our twenties. Spider just laughs at the two mens antics while i search the cupboards for a pair of clippers, finding some i walk back over to spider and decide it would be easier to go to room that spider can take his mask off in

“Anyone else need a touch up while I do Spiders hair?”. I ask the room. Everyone declines so it's just me, Spider and miles. We all moved to another room. There's no one really in the halls so it's a quick journey. Me and Miles make small talk with Spider occasionally taking sips from our masks. Ok this room should work. It’s an empty apartment so everything is spider-sized except the ceiling. Thank god they were tall. I found a chair for Spider and put it on top of the table so he could sit and I wouldn’t have to kneel the whole time. Miles goes over and takes up the entire couch with his lanky body. Both arms stretched out the length of the back of the couch. He looks damn comfortable, and damn sexy, its not until his eyes flicker back to me and that sly grin spreads across his face that I quickly turn my blushing face away. He just chuckles from his spot reaching over to turn the room's tv on.

“So Spider, do you mind telling me more about yourself.”

I can see Spider wants to say something but then goes to clam up as he now stares at his father.

“Hey hey it's ok You don't have to say anything you don't want.” Miles reassures the kid i can tell it's not really working

“Yeah it's fine sweety we don't have to talk about anyone in particular i just want to know how you’ve been raised, if you got enough love.”

“Um ok well i was mostly raised at the lab by Norm, Max and Abby. The others also helped raise me but its not really like they where my parents.”

Listening to spider talks as i pick through his hair carefully, it brings a sad smile to my face. I know that my baby was taken care of and i dont doubt that the others tried theirs best but he wasn’t loved like i would have. He wasn’t held close during the night just so I could hear him sleep. I never got to give him a birthday, or teach him how to tie his shoes (not that he wears them) . I never got to hold him and love on him if he got hurt running around. Just all the things i've missed brings me into a somber mood.

“You ok darlin” miles asks as he noticed my silence

“Hmmm oh yeah sorry. Sorry sweety I was listening, i just got lost in thinking how much i would have loved to watch you grow.”

“It’s ok. Umm it wasn’t bad. I mean Jake and Neytiri took care of me too and I'm really close with their kids.”

“Jake has kids?

“Yeah he has three kids, you actually saw some of them in the forest if you remember”

“I'm sorry I don't really i was, focused on other things, but Wow I did not think Jake would ever be a dad when I knew him, that's crazy.”

“What was jake like before.?

“Welllllll”

“He was a cheeky little bastard that liked to get into trouble.”Miles states from the couch.

“Hey now, he was a good soldier, he was fun. I liked him. He was definitely a flirt. I remember the first time he saw me he called me an angel sent to Pandora to bless the rest of us.

“Ewww that’s so cringy”

“Hahah I still remember the others shaking their heads at him from behind me to stop, while your father over there was just staring him down from behind. Oh god the look on his face when he turned and saw miles was hysterical.”

Miles chuckles from his spot remembering the scene as well.

“Can I ask if he's a boy dad or a girl dad?”

“Oh definitely a girl dad kiri and tuk have it made me, loak and neteyam are always in trouble.”

“Wait, that's five people. I thought Jake only had three.”

“Yeah ummmm.”

“Hey its ok you dont have to tell us,

“No its just…. It’s fine um yeah they have another daughter she's the same age as Lo’ak, her names kiri”

“Kiri?”

“Yeah she's graces daughter” Now that got me and miles attention

“Grace has a daughter, Grace got pregnant, oh my god who's the Lucky guy that would have.”

“Uhhh we don’t really know, grace could never tell anyone

“What do you mean?”

“Uh grace was hurt during the war and didn’t make the transfer with her avatar.

“Wait grace died but then how

“No one really knows Grace's avatar, just was pregnant one day is all I know.”

“Wow”…….. the news really sinks in and i know spider is somewhat distraught having told Miles and i this information.

“Ok well I have to say im glad you’ve had people to watch out for you. But right now why don't we come back to the issue at hand your very knotted hair” i say trying to easy the tension in the air

“Hey its not that bad”

“Honey please its that bad, im guessing you didn’t care what the others said”

“Welll”

“That’s a yes. Ok so really the only option would be to cut the hair so it grow nicely, would that be ok.”

I can see spider try and decided before he finally agrees

“You can cut it but please not to short and also you can cut this. Spider points to the line of beads and gems that are in his hair”

“What is it”

“It’s my song chord their really important to the Navi and i wanted to have my own so”

“Ok i won't come anywhere near it ok i'll just have to rebraid it later would that be ok “

“Uh yeah.”

“Ok sweety here look forward and ill start back here.. I go around Spiders head once, cutting off some length. I'm able to get the strand untangled so I don't have to cut it so short.”

“You know i've seen you before.”

“Really”

“Yeah it was a video kiri was watching of grace.

(Flashback)

Spider pov

“Hey kiri what you watching

“Video logs from my mom. I was actually about to come find you monkey boy

“Oh yeah why

“While watching the logs i think i found your mother

“What, really show me, show me

“Ok calm down let me find it…..ah here it is

The log starts playing and we see Grace greeting the camera and starting the date like always, she goes on to talk about some of the samples she's recently studied when they hear a knocking on the shed door. Grace moves the camera to check what was going on. We see her smile slightly at the entrance waiting for the seal to start and the air to switch over.

Opening the door grace greets a woman, she's (your skin tone) with (your hair color) and is very visibly pregnant.

“Y/n what are you doing back here Parker send you toy check up on all of us

Cause you just missed norm and jake they just linked up’

“No i'm not here to check on you, Parker's weasley ass can bite me, but i do have a favor to ask.”

“Ohh and what's that.”

“Wellllllllll……”

“Out with it”

“Do yall have any more of those blue fruits? Ever since tasting them, the baby’s been craving them.”

“Grace just laughs at the women in front of her causing y/n to slightly pout”

“You came all the way up here for some fruit.”

“Well yeah and to kind of get away, i know im pregnant but everyone keeps treating me like im glass, it gets suffocating sometimes”

“What, you don't like the big bad Quaritch being your little puppy dog.”

“Hey now, lets not start,i know yall dont see eye to eye but hes my baby’s father and my fiancé, i love him, and i don't let him or the rest of the squad talk bad about yall, so let's do the same ok.”

“Grace just waves her hand brushing y/n off as she looks briefly back into the microscope.

“Well fine since your here can you man the station for a little i want to go get another sample,”

“Yes I can, if you bring me some fruit.”

“Yeah yeah i'll get Norm to bring you a bag full.”

“Yaaaaa thank you grace” y/n says jumping up to hug grace much to her jargon judging by the look on her face

“Yeah yeah you sure you’ll be fine alone in here”

“Well technically I'm not alone and I do have to wait for Trudy and Wainfleet to come back anyway. But it's fine, just put your com and camera on and i'll be entertained. I love watching yall go through the forest anyway.”

“Ok well you know what to do in case of emergency”

“Ma’am, yes ma’am.” Y/n says false saluting to grace who just rolls her eyes in response. Grace comes back over to the camera and signs off and that's where it end

End flashback.

“I think I remember that, I was definitely craving those fruits god they were so good. I probably devoured my weight in them”

“Yeah you did cause i had to cut them up all day for you.” Miles say grumpily

“Oh dont be a baby, it wasn’t that bad,”

“Whatever you say mamas”

“Wow, that must’ve been the last time I saw grace.”

“Ok all done”

I can see out of the corner of my eye miles stiffened slightly but I choose to ignore him and go back to the task at hand. After rinsing him off and brushing through his now wavy golden locks. He's truly a handsome kid. It kills me to say it but he looks more like his father.

“What’s wrong?” Spider asks as i continue to stare at him i can tell he's starting to get self conscious

“It’s nothing baby i was just thinking how much like your father you look

“What.?” He says quickly, turning his head to look miles up and down.

“Yeah you do, which is not fair because I'm the one who carried you for nine and half months.”

Miles just laughs from the couch, full on belly laughing

“Oh you hush this is your fault.”

“How is it my fault darlin,”

“You and your stupid genetics”, I say walking over in front of him. He just grabs me and sets me in his laugh as he hugs me to him.

“I don’t remember you complaining about my genetics when we,,,,,

“Ewwww can you guys not, gross, Now i know how the others felt with their parents”

“Hey wait till you find someone, squirt, you’ll know.”

(Think something like this but i don't want him to be sad and the thing hes holding is his songcord it would still be in his hair like behind his ear or something.

I can see spider blushes at the thought, I'll have to quiz him on that later. I hop off miles lap and back towards spider

“Well it's getting late, why don't we get you some food and then figure out sleeping arrangements ok”.

“Ok mom”….. it's quick, Spider himself doesn’t even realize he's said it to me until he freezes looking up at me with worry and uncertainty. I just kneel and bring him into another hug, “oh my little baby…. You can call me whatever you would like spider, I know this whole situation is very confusing but I love you, and have loved you since I found out I was pregnant.”

I feel Spider wrap his arms around my neck and hug me tight. I don't comment on the feeling of wet drops on my shoulder. I just pull away and kiss the top of his head and motion him to the door, Miles comes up behind me and hangs his arms over me, both us watching our beautiful child walk away.

The next morning miles gathers us and the team. We all meet in the group room as Miles tells us we have to start our mission. He knows i don't agree with what's happening but until we can find a better and safer way for our family to exist we have to play the part. Miles had talked up the general that for the team to catch sully we had to think like him. Go full native in the jungles and Forests of Pandora, that's where Spider came in. He would be our teacher, this gave him a purpose and a shield, so now the scientist couldn't do anything to him again. After the gear is all packed and everyone is situated we make our way out to the helos the team will be using to get out into the forest.

Miles pov

Spider is at my side as we walk onto the tar mat. I hoist him up into the hull before turning to help y/n in as well

“Hey get off that.” I say grabbing Spider by the collar and dragging him away from the big gun.

“Listen up hotshot Just to let you know your mask here has a tracker in it, you think of running off. I'll have you back here in two minutes and give you an old school ass whooping you understand me.”

“Yeah yeah. Spider goes and sits next to y/n who thankfully was talking to z and didn’t hear our conversation.”

“I bang on the side to let the pilot know we're all ready as we embark into the Forrest.”

We all get set in a clearing, i wait for everyone attention before getting started

“Listen up, jake sully has gone underground so to catch him we’re going to have to think like him full tilt all the way,We eat Navi we ride Navi we speak Navi”

I hear spider let out is scoff

“You got something to say kid?”

“You call that Navi you sound like a three year old.”

Smart ass kid, i can make out some words hes saying but i know hes making fun of me

“Ok smart ass you just went from being our monkey mascot to our interpreter.

“Miles” i hear y/n scoldingly say my name but can’t find it in me to answer

“To start were going to need transportation we can’t be walking all over this damn jungle so your going to show us how to get those banshees “

“Banshees you mean the ikran

“Yeah whatever show us how.

Spider looks back over to y/n and i see her smile and give him a nod.

“Fine i hope all of you can climb.”

Y/n pov

When the boy said we had to climb he meant it. Scaling the floating mountains always sounded amazing while i was human but now, its just tiring. Spider is jumping between rocks and yelling at us to keep up. Everyone to there credit does fairly well but I can tell all regret all the gear we have to carry with us. We finally make it to the top. I see z looking over the edge kicking a rock down, and whistling at the fall. I hear spider call after us again and disappear behind the corner. I quickly catch up not really wanting to let him out of my sight. The sun blinds me for a moment while I listen to all the shrinks and yells now echoing through the air from the dozens upon dozens of colorful banshees that occupy almost every surface of the clearing. Everyone is star struck as we stare at the animals that have only ever gotten close enough to kill them. We all group up on a rock a fallen tree really being our only cover if the animals decided to charge at us. I remember grace telling me about the ikrans about how sacred they where to the omaticaya clan and how this was a right of passage to be considered an adult really.

Spider give us a brief run down of the ikran and what they are used for

“Ikran will only have one rider their whole lives thats why it’s do important to chose the Right one”

Miles pov

I huff at the kids words and take the tranq gun from Lyle When i hear spider laugh at me. I turn my head and fix him with a stare

“Something amusing kid”

“Yeah Navi kids younger than me do this with their bare hands.” That’s an interesting thought hmmmm bare handed huh

I turn and look at y/n shes still just fascinated with the scenery around us,

“Sully do this with his bare hands”

“What do you think”

‘Hmmmm ok then”. I hand the gun back to Lyle and stand up. Crossing over the tree

“Miles what are you doing?” I Hear y/n ask me

“Doing this the Navi way sweetheart, just cheer me on ok.”

Your Pov

I see miles start advancing into the clearing,

“When you choose one you got to connect your ques together.” I hear spider yell at his father.

“And how will he know it chooses him” i ask

“It’ll try to kill him “

“SPIDER!” I just watch worriedly as miles continues to advance on the saphira blue ikran infornt of him

Im holding my breath as i hear the animal hisss and bite at miles. Bobbying its head towards him like it’ll bite which it probably would. I hear miles hiss back and the fight starts. Miles goes and punches the thing in the face before trying to jump on its back.

“Did I mention your supposed to tie their mouths shut first”

“Spider,!” i want to scold the child but im focused on miles, especially the fact that him and the ikran are getting closer and closer to the edge

“MIlLES WATCH OUT” I scream but its to late hes fallen over the side

“Nooo” i cry and rush to the side to see where miles has gone but the clouds hid everything. Kid why would you do that i hear Lyle yell at spider

“I didn’t know he would fall off the side like i said kids younger than me does this I didn’t think he would” The others all stare in shock as Lyle grabs me and pushes us all to start heading back towards the drop location. Before i could say anything else a whoosh sound fills my ears as the wind rushes up in front of me and victorious yell shouts out

Miles pov

“Woooh hooo thats right”

I feel a thousand miles tall. Everything is amazing, the air rushing around me as I spin on my new ikran flying over the others as they all cheer me on. I make they ikran land jumping off to reunite with my team before a body comes barreling into me. It’s y/n now hugging the life out of me

“You stupid stupid man,”

“He its ok darlin.”

“If it's not spider i have to worry about its you will you both stop trying to give me a heart attack”

“Yes mamas, I say soothing her and walking over to the others.”

“Now that we know you need to tie their mouths thank you very much kid, everyone go get yours”

Y/n pov

Everyone went all having different levels of success but all succeeding

So It was my turn now.

“Go on darlin i've got your back”. Miles whispers lovingly in my ear before pushing me into the clearing. I swing the rope around in my hand as I survey the clearing and all of the remaining ikrans jump away, I just walk around its not till i almost give up when an ikran comes out of the shadows. I didn’t see it at first but as it steps into the light the beauty of the creature strikes me. A mirage of colors almost like a rainbow has kissed it. Actually the more I stare its almost like the beast has been tie dyed.

The ikran hisses at me and lunges forward i quickly side step him trying is jaw closed. Well there one less thing to worry about.

I hear my team cheering me on as i did them. Side stepping the animals head i throw myself on top of him grabbing on to it like a rodeo bull, Locking my thighs waiting for the timer to start. The ikran starts bucking away moving this way and that to try and throw me off him but i stay locked tight, its not till the animal still for a moment to catch its breath that i make my move. I grab his antenna and my que and all but smash the two together.

Then there was peace. Breathes intertwined and hearts synchronized. I can hear the other in the background all cheering, climbing on board their ikrans as they encourage me to fly. I reach down tuggin the rope off the ikrans mouth as i command it to fly. Flying was amazing it, was exhilarating and, heart stooping and every emotion in between. I see miles and his ikran zoom in to the space on my left. Spider sits infornt of him as they both have cheeky smiles on. Yelling at me to catch them if i can. Those boys i swear. I just shake my heads at them and start the game of cat and mouse

We’ve decide to use the ikrans to go back towards the base. The sun is still shinying and i can brefiely make out spider teaching his father some Navi words like hello and the traditional greeting. I bet he wishes he would have learned with me when we where human but sucks to suck.

We finally make it back to bridgehead, landing the ikrans just outside of the area not wanting them to really be locked down on the tar Matt not knowing how they’ll act. We take the mesurments for the scentest to make armor for them then the majority of us let them go. Everyone’s gushing about the experience all comparing them and what they named them. I walk over to miles and spider.

“So how was bonding time boys”

“Oh we had a great time with cupcake here”

“Cupcake? Seriously you named you ikran cupcake. Why?”

“Cause she was sweet enough to try and kill me. I was going to name her darlin cause she reminded me of you but I didn’t want you to be jealous.”

I just stare at him and lightly shove him and his smart ass self.

“What did you name yours ma,?” spider ask as he makes his way over to mine.

“Hmmmmm well at first i thought rainbow or something cause of the color but then it reminded me of tie dye clothes so his name shall be ty.

“Ty?”

“Yeah look he likes it” I say as Ty purrs while I'm brushing my hand down his head’.

“You both are so weird”

“Hey this isn’t horrible you should watch how to train your dragons thosewehre some names”

“What’s that ?”

“It’s a movie, i can pull it up on my halo pad well watch it tonight sweety, i promise” I say ruffling spider's short hair.

“Ok ok “

Miles comes up behind us

“Come on yall its time to eat.”

The first day of Navi training was definetly a into the fire situation but as long as it keeps my family together ill keep it up.

Tag list : love yall

@myh3artt @ducks118 @dyingofcookies @navs-bhat

[lostacelonnie]

Thats a bit of a mood but the thing keepin me busy mostly is work. Mihoyo is so good at making cool characters like xinyan, yun jin, etc & then just. Neglecting them. Gotra adopt these neglected kids i swear. Noelle's hangout sure does have some uh. Hella gay endings if i say so myself. Im nothin if not a simp for pretty women. Especially ones deemed annoying or those who commit wrongs so ill take her and focalors. Ayato & hu tao are some of my favorites in terms of playstyle. But im also a big hu tao enjoyer so im biased there. Getting lost is part of the charm indeed but i am an explorer type in games and irl so. Oh? I would love to see some pictures if you go i love seeing new places. That is exactly what happened to me with genshin a friend got me to play it & now here i am. Im convinced artifacts just hate everyone by this point tbh. Your disco elysium posting is making me wanna download it again & give it a proper finish when i am playing so many games already. Ill probably do it anyways though because i have little self control

fair. and right?????? i collect them and put them in my pocket. underused character fan club. FRFR WHAT WAS UP WITH THAT???? happy not-yet-pride-month to noelle and noelle only. and same as the wise song once said i love women i love women ladies ladies gentle nonmen not men not men. fr the more problematic a fictional woman is the more likely i am to defend her online. the last time i played with hu tao was before my great genshin break so that was like, over 1 year ago? so to be completely honest i dont remember her playstyle very well. but from what i can remember i think i enjoyed it. im a bit of an explorer type in games [not so much irl since i dont have time or ppl do do it with, but id love to in the future] so the desert has been great!!! im defo gonna keep u updated on my travels. actually going to norway in about a week so i can show u some pics from there when i get back :DD and i actually had that with honkai, my best friend got me into it and now. yeah. fr like. its like the MOMENT i start grinding a new artifact set i get the stats i needed for the last one but are garbage rn. and akdgkjghjkk fair, ik the feeling of wanting to check out other stuff while balancing so many current interests. my elysium playing has actually made me temporarily forsake genshin bc of how caught up i get in it. and good luck with that 👍

[sameheart-sameblood]

For the Good of the Realm

pairing: prince aemond x f!reader

summary: aemond reassures you of his love after you find out about his betrothal

words: 3.3k

warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, piv, fingering, angst, swearing, aemond probably being way more soft than is canon but hey im depressed let me do what i want

a/n: i've had zero motivation to write the last month but thankfully this little war criminal came along and lit a fire under me. ugh i just wanna hold his hand and maybe take him to therapy lol. also i'm being a bit revisionist and making it so he didn't kill a little kid right before the events of this fic.........

read on ao3!

Word of the betrothal spreads through the Red Keep slowly at first, then accelerates like green wildfire. Soon enough, the news seeps out of the walls of the castle and is whispered from ear to ear all throughout Westeros. You wouldn’t be surprised if the Free Cities on the distant shores of the Narrow Sea had heard it before you. Of course, in actuality you had learned of it well before most people but you should have been the first. You were owed that much.

The narrow staircase proves difficult to dart up. You lose your footing several times but ignore the scrapes and bruises that surely will need attending to. None of that matters now as you try desperately to get away from the one person you thought you could trust. Tears blur your sight, not helping your ascent. Slipping once more, you hike your skirt up and make a mad dash for the top of the steps, all the while the memories of your time in King’s Landing swirling through your head. 

You had been fifteen years old when father had received a royal summons. He and your mother had gawped at the thick stationary signed with King Viserys’ emblem that fell at their feet, spirited to you by one of the Red Keep’s impressive ravens. The letter, it turned out, was not summons for one of your brothers to join court but for you instead. 

Your house was small but proud, having served the Targaryens loyally through bloody wars and blessed peace. While no Baratheons or Lannisters, your family had proved faithful and the king felt that should be rewarded. It had been agreed that you would serve as a lady-in-waiting to the Princess Helaena, who was also around your age. 

While an unexpected request, there was no question if you would go. Such an invitation was a great honor and as the daughter of an uncelebrated house, it was the best case scenario for you. If you stayed at your family’s lands there was little chance of marrying outside of your circle. However, with you being sent to court, you knew the silent hope on everyone’s mind was that you might catch the eye of some higher born lord. Over a decade had passed and indeed you had attracted the attention of someone of a much higher station than yours.  Much too high for the likes of you. 

He’s not far behind you, his pleads for you to stop and listen to him echoing off the stony steps. You daren’t turn and face him, knowing one glimpse of his face will only weaken your resolve. Nothing he can say will change things anyway. He’s engaged to a lady of proper status that would well suit a prince. Though it breaks your heart, you know there’s nothing to be done. You’ll pack your things and return home, tail between your legs. The thought of the disappointment from your family washes over you but you put your head down and trudge onwards. What is their disappointment when compared with your forever hardened heart.

Reaching the top of the stairs you run to your room, slamming the door behind you. Frantically, you pull out a traveling chest and begin stuffing all of your belongings into it. It’s haphazard and your mother will scold you to no end when she sees the state of your clothes but you just need to be on your way. The sooner you leave King’s Landing, the sooner you can purge yourself of all the memories that hold you there. 

Hurried footsteps approach your door and you’re not surprised when it opens without so much as a knock. Aemond stands there for a moment, catching his breath. You pay him little mind, continuing your packing. His eyebrows knit together with worry when he realizes what you’re doing. 

“Where are you going?” he asks tightly. 

Letting out a pained laugh you answer. “It seems as if I’m no longer of use here. Do not worry, my prince. Soon you shall be rid of me.”

Aemond looks as if you had just started speaking Dothraki to him. “What do you mean ‘your use here’?”

Your anger overtakes you and you throw down the dress you were carelessly folding. “I mean I was nothing more than a pawn. I was a convenient way for you to learn the ways of women and how to please them. Now that you’ve had your fun with me and gleaned all you can you’re free to move on to a proper lady.”

Aemond looks at you with such heartbroken confusion that you bow your head, lest he see the tears brimming in your eyes. You push past the urge to comfort him. It is you who deserve comforting, you remind yourself. 

“I have no desire to marry that Baratheon girl. When I went to speak with Lord Borros at Storm’s End yesterday the only term he would accept for pledging to House Targaryen was a marriage to unite the families. We’re already losing if we don’t have him on our side,” he says. 

“That means you had a whole day to tell me. I had to hear it from your brother. He was more than happy to let me know.” You scowl, remembering the almost skip in Aegon’s step as he had whispered the news to you during dinner. 

Your prince curses darkly under his breath. “Of course it was Aegon. That prick.”

Nodding you sit at your vanity and begin organizing your small collection of jewelry and trinkets. Aemond swallows down his anger at Aegon and kneels by your side. You refuse to look at him. He doesn’t touch you, worried that might spook you. 

“I spent all of yesterday trying to think of a way out of it. I went to the small council, my grandfather the Hand, even my mother…” he stalls, not finishing the thought. It’s evident what he doesn’t have the courage to say. 

Instead, you finish for him. “…but they told you that in order to ensure a Targaryen victory they need an alliance with Storm’s End. Which means you have no choice but to marry Lady Ellyn. For the good of the realm.” 

“For the good of the realm,” Aemond parrots back bitterly. 

There’s nothing to be done. Rationally, you know that. He is a prince with a duty to his kingdom. You were lucky to have him to yourself for as long as you did. In your heart, though, you know you will never love like this for a long time. Maybe never again for if this is what true heartbreak feels like then you would rather die than repeat it again. 

The last piece of jewelry you find is a brilliant, blue sapphire necklace that Aemond had gifted you three namedays ago. “As blue as the Sea of Dorne,” he’d murmured to you as you had admired it. The Aemond who had gifted it to you then had fewer worries and bigger promises. You had laughed that it was indeed beautiful but you would have to take his word for it, you’d never seen the Sea of Dorne. At that, your prince had grabbed you by the hand and spirited you away on Vhagar, determined to show it to you right away. The ride on the dragon had not been exceptionally long, but once the deep blue waters came into view, it felt like you and Aemond had entered a world all your own. 

Back in your chambers, though, reality has caught up with the both of you. Aemond watches you study the necklace, then rests his head against your arm. “Tell me that you want to run away with me and we’ll go right now, like we did all those years ago.”

You caress his hair for a moment, reveling in the realization that you could run away. With Vhagar to take you, no one would be able to follow. And if they did, Aemond and his dragon would make them understand that the two of you were free to do as you pleased. Real life once again makes your dreams crash down around you. Gently, you extricate yourself from Aemond’s embrace and put the last of your jewelry into the trunk. 

He watches you as you close the lock with a resounding and final clunk. You turn to him, trying to look strong. “I would not ask that of you, my prince. I would not separate you from your family and leave them to despair and failure. They need your strength. We must accept that.”

For a moment, you think you’ve convinced him that you should do the responsible thing. But you should know better than anyone that Aemond never accepts defeat. His once soft and broken expression morphs into one of impassioned determination. He rises, striding to you before you realize what’s happening. Standing before you, he seems a giant, intimidating and alluring all at once. 

“Tell me you no longer want me and I’ll marry that Baratheon bitch,” he says steadily. 

You know you can’t. “Aemond…”

He continues, emboldened by your clear devotion to him still. “Tell me you no longer need me and I’ll walk out of here right now.”

Tears begin to course down your cheeks as you try to find the words. It’s useless, though, and Aemond knows it. He lowers his voice to a hushed, honeyed whisper. 

“Tell me you no longer love me and you need never see my face again.” 

Any resolve remaining in you dissipates and you close the gap between you, whispering his name pitifully before you bring your lips to his. At first it’s sweet and tentative, two lovers reminding each other of their affection. But at your first whimper, Aemond deepens the kiss, holding you close to him, your bodies molding together. 

In an instant, he’s ripping you out of your dress. Aemond doesn’t wait for it to completely fall off, satisfied with your bodice no longer in the way of what he wants. He turns you around so suddenly, you gasp, trying not to lose your footing. You needn’t worry though, he catches you, pressing your back to his chest. Even through the skirt that still clings to your body and the leather of his pants, you can feel him hard as dragonscale. 

The both of you revel in the feeling for a minute, you pushing back into him and Aemond kneading your hips comfortingly. The spell is broken by another of your pitiful moans as you seek more friction. Aemond chuckles, “Impatient as ever, my love.”

Knowing exactly what you want after years of exploring your body, Aemond brings his hands up to cup your breasts. Your head lolls back onto his shoulders as he massages them gently. His hands are calloused from years of sword fighting and it makes you shiver. Without even seeing him, you just know he’s smirking. Aemond removes one of his hands, squeezing your nipple before he abandons it. The sound of more tearing fabric reaches your ears as he pulls off your skirt. 

You whine until you feel him slide his hand along your belly, giving you goose bumps. His hand cups your cunt, pulling you back into him again, his other hand still working at your breast. Aemond slips a finger through your folds, chuckling at how worked up you are. He takes pity on you and begins rubbing languid circles on your clit as he kisses softly down your neck. It’s definitely sacrilege to think but you’re sure this must surpass any of the seven heavens the septons preach about. 

There’s one thing that could make this heaven even better. You put your hands on Aemond’s to signal him to stop and he turns you around, worry in his eyes. “What’s wrong?” His breathing is heavy and you smirk when you realize he’s just as excited as you are. You lay a hand on his cheek and he smiles, closing his eyes as he leans into it. 

“I want to feel you, my dragon.” 

Aemond begins to undress himself. “Please,” you whisper, “let me do it.” His breathing quickens even more as he nods. Fingers trembling, you undo the buckles of his shirt. Usually, time together is limited and Aemond would do this task himself to speed things along. Instinctively, he reaches to help you but you playfully shoo his hands away. He watches you with a fond smile as you get the hang of it. Buckles undone, you shimmy the shirt off of him and toss it aside. His chest bare, you can’t help running your hands over it, mapping the expanse of the scars that run across it. Aemond shudders and groans. You could do this all day but he’s getting restless. “Please, my love.”

Chuckling, you begin undoing his trousers. “Who’s the impatient one now?”

You bend down to help him step out of them. Once free of all of his clothes, he tries to get you to stand but you stare up at him with a smirk. He’s right there, hard and ready begging to be touched. Your hand closes around his cock and he moans. You mean to take him in your mouth but Aemond has other plans. “Not now. I’ve other plans for you tonight.”

He pulls you up and you yelp in surprise. “Aemond, wait.”

Tonight, you want him truly naked. “I want to see all of you, Aemond.” He knows exactly what you mean and after a moment, he nods. You reach up carefully and undo the patch that covers his missing eye. You’re greeted with a dazzling sapphire that matches the necklace he gifted you. If Aemond had his way, he wouldn’t wear the covering at all but he knows that without it the people of court deem him more of a monster than they already do. Part of him is still a scared little boy who wonders if maybe they’re right. 

You hold his face as you reach up on tiptoes to tenderly kiss the scar across his eye that constantly reminds him of the loss. In return, Aemond kisses you hard and lustily. He pushes you back on the bed and you giggle as you bounce slightly. As you look up at him, he undoes the clasp holding his hair back and lets his silvery gold locks fall freely around his face. 

Now he’s ready to take you. 

Aemond lowers himself on the bed and crawls towards you. Intuitively, you open your legs for him and he rests between them, like a panther assessing his prey. He stares down at you, caressing your cheek. You’re sure you’ve never seen a more beautiful sight. You don’t have long to admire him though as he’s set in motion. Aemond kisses you fiercely, then grabs one of your knees, bending it up towards your chest to give him better access to your cunt. He presses a finger into you, stretching you as you whimper. 

As he works you open, he takes one of your nipples in his mouth and sucks lazily. When your whimpers turn to moans, he adds a second finger. He curls them inside you, searching for the place that makes you see stars. It doesn’t take him long to find it. It never does. Aemond sits back up to focus on his task. As he presses on the spot, you prop yourself on your elbows and watch him at his work. He feels your gaze and stares right back at you, grinning. Your mouth falls open as he presses harder and faster. The noises you’re making are animalistic and it’s a wonder you haven’t woken up the whole castle. 

Aemond brings his lips to your clit and sucks as he presses more insistently. The pleasure crashes over you and you come suddenly, wailing as you fall back down into the pillows. Normally, your lover would give you a moment to recover but deep down both of you know this might be your last night together. A second after your undoing, Aemond’s crawling over you and pressing his cock to your entrance. You grab his ass, trying to push him inside of you faster. He takes the hint and slips inside, both of you moaning in unison. 

The prince pauses for a moment, closing his eyes and reveling in the feeling of being enveloped in you. You let him stay there a moment then tease him by squeezing your walls around his cock, bringing him back to the present. The smirk is wiped off your face and replaced with a satisfied sigh as he pushes into you over and over again. The overstimulation gives way to pleasure again and you know you won’t last much longer. But you want to hold out and wait for Aemond to finish with you. 

Aemond’s lips come to yours as he continues to rut into you. Wrapping your legs around him, he speeds up and buries his face in your neck. You cradle him against you as you let the bliss you’re feeling push away all the thoughts of what’s to come tomorrow. Your prince hits a particularly sensitive spot in you and your nails scratch down his back as you come once more. Aemond follows after you shortly, groaning as he finishes inside of you. 

You lay there for a moment, both of you sweaty and satisfied. Aemond moans happily as you run your fingers through his soft hair. After a few minutes, he rolls off you and pulls you into his chest. Thoughts of what you’ve been avoiding creep back into your mind and based on how quiet Aemond is, you know he’s thinking it too. You’ll be damned though if you’re the first one to break the reverie you’re in. 

Aemond breaks the silence for you. “I want to marry you” 

You gaze up at him and smile sadly. “I want the same. Though I don’t think the gods will allow it, my prince.”

“Gods be damned. Let me take you away from here. We can marry before my mother even knows we’re gone. She’ll have no choice but accept once she sees the truth of it.”

You think back on your history lesson from Maester Gerardys. “We’ll be like King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne?” It’s a folly and you say it as such but Aemond is invigorated by the thought. 

“They married against the wishes of their mother. Why shouldn’t I? Everyone thought their union would throw the realm into chaos but it didn’t. Ours would be just as blessed.”

It pains you to be the one to bring the dream to an end but the kingdom hangs in the balance. “But what of Borros Baratheon?”

Aemond sneers, “That illiterate bastard can find another to marry his daughter. If he breaks his oath and runs back to Rhaenyra then Vhagar and I shall pay him a visit he shan’t soon forget.”

You want to argue more, beg Aemond to see reason. But the hour grows late and your body craves sleep. You snuggle up to him and close your eyes. Aemond takes your silence for an agreement. 

“We’ll fly away tomorrow. Wherever we land we’ll find a septon to wed us.”

You hum a sleepy “Of course, Aemond.” 

The prince looks down at you and smiles sadly. He’s not stupid. You’re only placating him but doesn’t matter. His plan is a dream but it’s something to hold on to until tomorrow brings about the stark reality of your situation. 

But those are troubles that sleep will wave away. Aemond blows out the candle and brings the blanket up to cover your shoulders. Soon sleep descends on him and his eyes get heavy. Before he’s completely overtaken he murmurs to you in High Valyrian. 

“Avy jorrāelan”

He doesn’t expect a response but breaks into a sluggish grin as you whisper back. 

“I love you too, Aemond.”

******

[star-girl69]

Aemond x reader

Aemond and reader are at a feast and courting to everyone’s knowledge another lady begins making brazen attempts and comments to Aemond about how much better she would be as a wife reader is jealous but is trying to be polite and not cause a scene Aemond is having none of it and publicly chastises/insults her for doing so especially in front of his love

If you could include the line “ im yours and your mine” between Aemond and reader that would be extra amazing

warnings: mentions of violence, swearing, fatphobia (maybe?), insults against reader, reader crying, tell me if i missed anything!

We Belong Together

—-

It had always fascinated you how easy it was to belong to someone. You belonged to your parents, yes, your siblings, in way, but to truly belong to someone- once you found that someone- was like a knife sliding through warm butter. Easy, natural.

To belong to Aemond, it was as if there was only him. You could not remember life before him, any man you had loved before, only him.

You had lusted after him for months, prolonging your stay at court to keep close to him. Then, by some chance, by some prayer, it happened.

—-

It was night when you came to the gardens. The moon was your only source of light- shining like a beacon in the sky. It illuminated his face, his hair- blowing around in the wind like an aura- and it hollowed out his cheekbones, making him look ethereal, something carved by the gods.

You gasped. “Prince Aemond- I’m sorry, I can leave,”

He shook his head, instead sitting next to you on the bench you occupied.

“What ails you?” He looked up towards the moon, and you found yourself tracing his jawline with your eyes.

“Nothing ails me, My Prince. I only came out for some air.”

He smirks, though it is not meant to insult.

“Everyone comes to gardens when something ail’s them.” You died answer, and he sighed. “My mother wishes to marry me to Lady Alys Rivers, that is why I have come out here.” Your heart dropped. He was to be married? But you pushed it away.

“That’s amusing. I’m out here because my parents wish me to marry as well.” He let out a dry laugh, eyes still fixed on the moon. “He is a nice man- a Baratheon lord- but, my heart belongs to someone else.” This peaked his attention, and he turned away from the moon.

“Really?” He drawled, but his voice was tight. “Who?”

“You wouldn’t know him,” You muttered, turning away embarrassed.

“Oh, don’t tell me it’s a commoner.”

“Gods, no. My family would disown me. It’s… the man I love is higher ranking than me. I do not know exactly, but I doubt it would be proper for us to marry.”

“Does he know?”

“I don’t think so.”

“My eye is trained on someone else, too.” You turned toward him, a questioning eyebrow raised. “But I doubt she even pays attention to me.”

You let a small laugh fell from your lips, and he looked at you with amusement. “What? It is true.”

You fixed your eyes on him. “Forgive me for being so informal, but you are the Prince. Handsome, brave. It’s impossible not to notice you. Whoever you have your eye on would be lucky to have you, My Prince.” He blushed slightly, muttering a quick thank-you.

You heart squeezed again, but you pushed it aside. If only to save yourself from the embarrassment of crying in front of him. The prospect of him being married threatened to tear you apart inside.

“I fear I will just always be the fool with a heart who betrays her.”

He turned back to you, some expression you couldn’t decipher on his face.

“You speak of me so sweetly, but it also applies to you. You are beautiful, Lady Y/N, and kind.” You blushed as he had done earlier, turning your head.

“Thank you, My Prince.” If only he wanted you like you wanted him.

“But you wish the man you love would say this about you, yes?”

“Don’t we all?”

“You’re right.” He stared at you, something like a war in his eyes. “The woman I love- she always seems to be just out of arms reach. Even now.”

“Is she to be married?”

“Mhm. I just learned of it.” You could see the sadness haunting his face, a ghost behind his eyes. You placed your hand on his thigh.

“I’m sure someone else will catch your eye.” He stared at your hand, something like disbelief on his face. You weren’t sure why, of course, but dismissed it.

“I don’t think anyone will. I don’t think anyone can.” You started to take your hand back, words on your lips. But he grabbed your hand, a frantic expression on his face. “Don’t.”

Maybe it was the expression in his eyes, the fear at your moving away. But you intwined your hand with his, blindly, not knowing what this meant.

He swallowed. “I have not been truthful with you.” Hope exploded in your chest, no matter how you tried to push it down.

“Yes?” Your voice came out eager, and you leaned in closer.

“The woman I love-” He stopped. “I should not, I’m sorry.” He did not move, did not pull his hand away.

“I won’t tell anyone. You can speak plainly, My Prince.” You were desperate to hear his answer, like you were starving and his words were sustenance. In a way, it was. He was. The only reason you lived, the only reason you breathed.

He stared into your eyes, speaking quickly, like he had to say it before the words burned him from the inside out.

“The woman I love is right in front of me, holding my hand, looking at me like she might love me too.”

Oh, and in that moment you swear you died.

“She does.”

With that confession, that confirmation, he connected your lips like a man starved, like he was drowning and you were air, like you were the sun, like you were his. Months and more of pining were exchanged through your lips, and you knew that he was your savior, all you would ever need.

In that moment, you truly started living.

—-

Since you came alive under Aemond’s touch, under his lips, he had treasured you like the most precious metal.

While your dowry and other things were still being negotiated between the crown and your father, you were thrust into the life of being Aemond’s. He was yours, and you were his.

Through you were not officially betrothed, and you both knew that things could change, he swore to you that he would not allow them to take you away.

Your father was more than happy to agree to the marriage, while Alicent took a little convincing. But you made a good first impression when Aemond introduced you, and Helaena seemed to like you as well. That softened her heart, and she eventually agreed to the marriage.

Now, you were one of the highest ranking ladies at court. Aemond acted as if you were already married, calling you pet names and kissing you unashamedly. You had separate chambers, but most nights you would be woken up by the feeling of someone sliding into the sheets beside you.

You knew that Aemond choosing you was unexpected, seeing as your house wasn’t very high-ranking. Many other ladies at court had wanted him for themselves, but they did not truly want him. They wanted power, money, and all you wanted was to belong to him. You needed him, selfishly, and knew that your relationship with him had made you a social pariah.

You were excluded from the activities you had done before, tea in the gardens with other ladies, gossiping in one of the parlors. You found yourself spending most of your time with either Aemond of Helaena. You enjoyed the company of Jaehera and Jaeherys, they were sweet children. Helaena was cryptic, and sometimes the way she acted confused you. But she was sweet, and you did truly like her.

Due to her personality and love of bugs, the other women at court excluded her as well. You became something like friends, and she told you often that she was happy you two were to be sisters.

Aemond loved to see you get along with his family, seeing as you were his family too.

Loving Aemond had made you lose everything, but gain something much more.

So when a Lady started glaring at you and Aemond during dinner, you were only slightly unnerved.

“Aemond, some lady is staring at us.” He leaned closer to you, looking out over the crowd.

“Who?” You wrapped your hand around his bicep, liking the feeling of his muscles.

“She’s in a green dress, over on the left.”

“Ah, I see. Lady Tyrell, I believe. Pay her no mind.” He pressed a kiss to your temple, and you leaned your head against his shoulder.

—-

It was much later when the Tyrell family approached to greet the royal family, and you paid it no mind. Simply digging into your mashed potatoes, Aemond’s hand on your thigh.

Lady Tyrell conveniently placed herself in front of Aemond, pushing her chest outward obnoxiously. He let out a huff only you could hear, keeping his cool for the sake of honor. You ignored her as well, while something like jealousy seeped into your veins.

“And we are most excited for the royal wedding!” Lord Tyrell proclaimed, turning towards the two of you. You caught Alicent’s eye, and she smiled.

Aemond gave a curt nod, cutting a slice of meat.

You smiled brightly, any talk of your wedding to Aemond always managing to cheer you up. “Thank you, Lord Tyrell. We are so excited to finally be married.” He gave a slight bow, before continuing a more business-like conversation with Alicent about Highgarden’s grain shipments to King’s Landing.

“Oh, Lady Y/N, I adore your dress!” Lady Tyrell reached across the table, adjusting the low collar, hands brushing across your chest. You could feel Aemond’s eyes on the spot she had touched, just on the top of your breast.

“Uh, thank you, Lady Tyrell. It’s one of my favorites.”

You let one of your hands fall to your lap, reaching over to grip Aemond’s hand on your thigh, squeezing.

He cleared his throat, noting your discomfort. “Yes, it’s quite beautiful, thank you, Lady Tyrell.” He turned back to his plate, and you hoped she would take the hint and at least take a few steps back.

“Of course, my dress is made of Meereenese silk, so…” She trailed off, playing with her own collar. Her chest was still pushed out, trying to draw attention.

You couldn’t resist. “Oh, Aemond just gave me one of those the other day. They’re most comfortable, aren’t they?” Aemond stifled a laugh as Lady Tyrell’s expression fell.

“Yes.. well,”

“Daughter, let’s enjoy the feast.” Her father placed a hand on her shoulder, and she put that confident smile back on her face.

“Of course, father. I hope I’ll see you two during the dance, hm?” She walked off, and you let out a breath.

“Well, she’s certainly something.” You played with your food, simply shifting it around your plate.

“If by ‘something’, you mean a jealous bitch, then yes.”

“Aemond!” You scolded, lightly hitting his hand. He smirked, looking quite proud of himself.

—-

The sun has started set, illuminating the hall in a soft golden glow. It was beautiful, and dresses and jewels sparkled in the light. You were entranced by it, and it drew you in like a bee to honey.

“Aemond, I wanna dance.” You shifted in your seat, turning to face him.

“Hm?” He turned towards you, placing a hand on your face. You were tempted to lean into it, but you wanted to dance, feel the glow of the sun on you.

“I wanna dance, Aemond. Please,” He smiled, thumb rubbing along your cheekbone.

“Of course, my love.” He stood up, offering you his arm.

Aemond could be cruel, cold-hearted, to anyone except you. He often told you that you were his sun the midst of the ocean. His beacon, who would always guide him back.

The tempo picked up as he led you to dance floor, placing his hands on your hips as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

You noticed as the sun hit the side of his face, illuminating him as the moon had that first night.

He noticed your staring, smiling slightly. “It is impolite to stare, my love.”

You just smiled.

—-

The tempo of the drums has long since shifted into a slower, more intimate pace. Strings joined, and you rested your head on Aemond’s shoulder as he danced you about. And like this, just like this, you felt higher than the sun and moon.

“Are you asleep?” His tone was lighthearted, amused. You opened your eyes, realizing he had steered you off to the side.

“No, Aemond. I am awake,” You couldn’t resist rolling your eyes. He squeezed his arms around you waist, and you smiled.

“She’s horrible!” You perked up at the shrill sound of Lady Tyrell’s voice. You twisted around in Aemon’s arms, so your back was pressed to his chest.

Lady Tyrell stood in front of you two, talking to another lady. Her back was turned, so perhaps that is why she thought it was safe to say what she said next.

“She’s an ugly cow, I swear. She does not deserve him, I do! I am more beautiful than her. Why did he not choose me, Serena?”

The other Lady shook her head, seeming to be at a loss for words.

“I would be a much better wife, wouldn’t I?”

Lady Serena nodded, mumbling words of agreement.

“I know I would.” She huffs, spinning around.

Her mouth opens when she sees the two of you standing there.

You are jealous, hurt, angry. Part of you wants to rip her hair out, but it was no use. You would just get in trouble, and possibly be bared from marrying Aemond. His arms are loose around you, perhaps shock, so it is easy to detangle yourself from him.

You grab his arm, trying to tug him with you. “Aemond, let’s just leave. Please.”

But he is a dragon, he is made of fire and blood, and his anger demands that same phrase. How dare this nobody of a woman speak about you this way?

“Lady Tyrell,” He starts, and you are whispering, pleading with him to just let it go. “Expect your permanent removal from court. I will hear no one speak about my love like this.”

She rushes forward, suddenly, grabbing his other arm.

“Do you not see? I am better than her. I will give you more children, true children, my great-grandmother was a Targaryen! We have the blood of the dragon in our veins, we are meant to be together!” She is pleading, but not desperately. She truly believes that she is in the right, that her and Aemond are meant to be together.

He rips his hand away from her like she is poison, mold spreading throughout the Keep.

“She is not worthy of you! See reason, My Prince, please.”

“You are a vile and disgusting woman. Get out of my sight and be gone from King’s Landing by the morning.” His voice drops to a whisper. “Or I will feed you to my dragon.”

She braces herself, sizing you up. Then, she turns and stalks through the crowd of dancers, disappearing.

You are inconsolable.

You turn and look at your beloved in his eye, while tears well in yours.

“You stupid man.” His expression drops.

“Y/N-” But you are almost running away from him now, tearing through the palace because you are a woman scorned.

You hear his footsteps behind you the entire way, feel his comforting presence. He stays far away enough that you do not feel the need to speed up, letting you calm down.

You do not know where you are going, trying to walk off your anger. You come to a dead end, look up and recognize that it is Aemond’s room. You look behind you, seeing his eye widen as he runs forward.

But you are already opening the door and slamming it into his face.

“Y/N!” He slams against the door, and the handle shakes as he tries desperately to open it. But you have locked it, and you are fried with anger and sadness. “Please, tell me what I have done wrong. I’ll amend.”

“You do not get it!” You slam your fist against the door, before falling against it. You let it take your weight, because it is like gravity does not exist anymore.

“Please, make me understand.” His voice is muffled, but you hear him. You would always hear him, through thousands of miles, through the heaviest storm. A door is no match for your love for him.

“I come from a minor house, Aemond. They could stop negotiating at any moment- end our courting.” Your tears are falling faster now, and your breaths come out faster. The prospect of losing him makes you break. “I- I- I c-cannot lose y-you, Aemond. You- you endangered us. Why-” Your breaths are too frantic now, tears too heavy to speak.

“Y/N, Y/N, my love. I’m sorry. It is my fault, I was angry- I- I did not think, but I will learn from this, I swear.” You retreat to his bed, enveloping yourself in his scent. He smells of smoke and some dark wood, he smells of home. “Will you let me in, now?”

You need him more than you need air, but you are mad at him.

Before you can answer, the door is opening and he is rushing in, a heavy set of keys dropping to the floor. His eyes scan around, before finding you on the bed. You sit up.

“Y-you are relentless.”

He smiles. “Only for you, my love.” He moves closer, and you let him. You cannot stay mad at him for long.

You know you are being irrational, but your love for him clouded your mind. You are just too scared to lose him. You should be thanking him for defending your honor, but you were foolish and overreacted, and now embarrassed.

“I’m sorry. I’m being stupid.”

He sits next to you, and you can tell that it is torture for him not to touch you, not to comfort you.

“I know where you are coming from. I understand.”

And then you look up at him, and he is kissing you like that first time. Like you were air and he was drowning, like you were the sun, like you were his. And now, you truly are.

He pulls away, pressing his forehead against yours. The kiss was salty, your tears still falling.

“You are mine, and I am yours.”

You nod feverishly. He has this way of making your beg for more with only a single kiss.

“I am yours, you are mine.”

—-