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jakei95 · 1 year ago

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[Post in English] Something Nyx and I want to publicly address, regarding the recent allegations in the Glitchtale Crew's Discord Server and it's moderators. I really apologize for the upcoming wall of text. These are our Twitter threads I have pasted them here, in case you don't have access to said platform. I have also added some additional notes to provide more context. All details under the line:

NyxTheShield: (Transcription from his official twitter thread) I read some mean comments lately and I just wanna be super clear: I havent been related to Glitchtale since at least 2022. I never considered myself part of the community and went through some much shit while doing stuff for it that my mental health was completely destroyed.

For people who thought I was an admin of the server, that was just in paper. I was constantly de-admin'd, demodded and kicked from the server through the years for simple stuff like asking the rest of the mod team to not say slurs or standing up against the Midnight Crew. I personally left the server for a long while because I really did not want to be around some of the people there. All of this happened years ago (from 2016~ to around 2020). On the early years, my full income came from Youtube/Glitchtale. I was a broke college student and my economic stability depended on it. Despite this, and making literally hundred of tracks and hours of music for the series, most of the income came from my own ad revenue. I was paid less than 2000 USD for all of the work. Essentially, I was paid in exposure.

This wouldn't have been an issue for me if at least I got to keep my artistic vision with the series. That didn't hold true for long.

From the second season and onwards, and in multiple instances, I would score the entire OST for the episode, watch the episode when it released, and then find out a completely new section of the episode (usually a battle scene) with music from somebody else This was completely demotivating to me because I wasn't being paid, the tracks would not fit the rest of the OST at all, and most of the income I made from the battle scenes. I had to work for weeks trying to compose music for glorified powerpoint presentations (Basically everything that's not a battle scene on the series was just still frames of characters barely moving) and do all the heavy lifting and I wasn't even let known about the guest tracks.

This added to the feeling of having absolutely no power within the community. I don't know if this was intentional or not (I don't wanna presume malice), but all of these things together contributed to me distancing myself from the community.

Honestly, there is A LOT more shit that went down these early years that are extremely traumatic to me that I would prefer to not talk about unless completely necessary, but I feel this is a good amount of context for what I wanna talk about next.

As you might be aware, extremely serious (and true) allegations were made against Camila and his partner, Veir, which was accused of grooming minors from 2015 to 2021 There are really good videos out there explaining the entire timeline of what transpired, but I specifically wanna talk about 2020.

(Jakei's note: Links to said videos are here: [1] [2] [3])

In that year, a public document was made by my head mod CrystalFlame alongside 2 other mods in the GT server, that exposed Veir and their actions. This document went mostly unnoticed. Even more, Crystal went through a lot of abuse for coming forward about their abuse and was almost ostracized from the UT AU community because of this.

Because of this, I was asked directly by one of the victims (and also representing the other victims) to please not speak up (Citing that they just wanted to move on and didn't want to involve themselves with more problems and expose themselves)

All the info was kept very vague from me, including the people who were involved, the extent of the stuff that went down, etc But I knew enough to know it was serious. I followed their request and didn't speak up publicly about this, but I banned Veir from my server, warned all of my mods and people close to me in those circles about Veir, and constantly tried to get Camila to please adress the situation. Despite this, she did not listen and we all know how stuff went down later in 2022, where the allegations came back again with full force. This time around I wasnt asked to stay silent so I spread the word around and confronted the entire mod team. I was shortly banned after that.

I needed to address this because this thing has been eating me alive for years. I was intentionally kept in the dark about a lot of context and nuance that would have completely changed my mind about speaking up or not about what happened in 2020.

Everything is easier in retrospective, and with the knowledge I now have about the situation I know for a fact that I would have spoken up about all that happened. But being asked directly to not speak up by the victims was something that goes against what I am Sorry for the long rant, but I really needed to get this off my chest. I am tired of having to deal with this kind of stuff. As a content creator/public figure I am trying my hardest to keep the communities I am active in as safe as possible.

I feel I could have done more for the Glitchtale community regarding the grooming situation, but all of the years of abuse that I endured really fucked up my judgement. I am not very good at dealing with people and I always trust the people close to help me for this kind of stuff

Sadly, in this case, those same people who were close to me were also the victims, so they couldnt have known or had a way to help me out, I should have helped them instead. Most if not all of what was described in this thread is backed up by screenshots, chat logs, and direct testimony from the people who were involved during this time.

I don't want to direct hate to anyone or start a witchhunt, I am doing this purely to decompress a bit and try to vent some of the trauma I experienced all these years.

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Jakei: (Transcription from my official twitter thread) I would also like to share my experiences about my relationship with the Glitchtale Creator, Camila Cuevas. Publicly, we appeared as close friends, but in reality, that friendship was based on bullying and mistreatment, and this affected my mental health deeply.

Years have passed, and the memories still cause me pain. I decided to remain silent, but after the revelations of grooming cases in her community, I realized I wasn’t being too sensitive. The time has come to speak up about my experiences.

During the early years of Underverse, I was dealing with a serious depressive episode. Simultaneous internal and external pressures as an independent artist amplified my mental strain. Meeting Camila felt like finding a genuine friend who shared my passion for the fandom and understood the struggles of being a content creator amidst toxicity. At my lowest, I became compliant to doing things that I didn’t want to, just to keep people around me happy. For Camila, this meant allowing her to belittle my work and make me the butt of her jokes.

Only our veteran followers may remember the 'roasting games' between us on Tumblr (consisting of mutual insults), a spectacle where she'd always win. However, it was a game she privately forced me to "play" and I ended up accepting, despite the discomfort it caused me. These 'games' would give her a cool and strong image in the fandom while painting me as the dumb, 'cringe-worthy' friend. In essence, I became her personal punching bag, unknowingly reinforcing his reputation.

Camila's favorite term to demean my series 'Underverse' was “Cancerverse”. It felt like a constant contest where she'd always position herself as the superior writer and animator simply because my story and animation techniques didn't fit her standards. Years of being subjected to her ridicule left my self-esteem in ruins. I was okay with the negative feedback by some fans, but when my 'friend' publicly disrespected my art, it made me question my abilities as an artist.

I can't deny there were times when she gave me advice to deal with hate or hurtful comments. However, her damaging comments and treatment outweighed those moments of support.

My depressive state worsened around July 2017, where I had accepted people pushing me to do things I wasn’t comfortable with, while being part of Camila's demeaning games, just to appease her ego. I was introduced to Nyx during this time, he offered his music for my series, and eventually we started dating. We met in person in Chile, where I also met Camila. I hoped our friendship would strengthen but everything felt the same. Before I moved to Chile with Nyx, Camila reached out to me in dms, attempting to turn me against him because he opposed the use of slurs in the GT server. She claimed Nyx was being 'brainwashed' by his American friends belonging to the black and LGBTQ+ communities. She made fun of my dating choices, suggesting I was entering a toxic relationship, while showing off her relationship with her then-boyfriend (later exposed as a pedophile). She even quoted her own mother assuring me that Nyx would 'get back to normal', and if it didn’t happen, she would let me live in her house, almost like if she was telling me that Nyx would hurt me or make me feel miserable.

It only took Nyx 3 months to realize that the GT server was going in the wrong way. I initially felt compelled to defend Camila due to my inferiority complex, but soon realized Nyx was right. (Jakei's note: Not only Nyx was right, a lot of people that called her out over the years were right, yet they were not listened to at the time)

Even then, I found it difficult to distance myself from Camila due to the false sense of obligation I felt towards her. My fear of her making fun of my work kept me from interacting with others in the short period of time I stayed in her Discord server. I was afraid that she and her echo chamber would talk behind my back, something that I found out was happening in private chats until recent years.

Rebuilding my self-esteem wasn't an easy task. I began noticing the red flags – Camila's lack of respect not only for me but Nyx also, the emotional manipulation Nyx was suffering from Veir (something he used to do all the time with his other victims), her attempts to 'roast' me in front of her family and fans in the Underverse/Glitchtale meetings, and her constant criticism of my artstyle not being compatible to hers in the few collabs we made.

All these 'small' instances, dismissed as insignificant by many, caused me immense pain while treating my depression. I felt it was too late to express how I felt, as I feared being labeled as attention-seeking or oversensitive by her and her fanbase. Ironically, the moment she talked about her traumas after being bullied in the past, her feelings were the only ones that mattered any time she was involved in a problematic situation in the fandom and deserved to be the only to get pats in the back.

I never expected a sincere apology, as I was convinced she didn't remember or didn't care about the hurt she caused. I tried to maintain a facade of good terms with her, both publicly and privately. Eventually, I distanced myself from her, unfriending her and banning her from my own server even if she didn't interact there. I started focusing on my own work and the people who appreciated it. Despite this, the aftermath of the bullying continued to affect me.

Everything fell into place when the grooming accusations against her former boyfriend and server mods came to light. It was a shocking revelation, but it validated all my doubts and fears about her. The purpose of sharing my experiences is not to stir up drama, but to address the concerns of those worried about my association with Camila. I want to make it clear that I will never tolerate such behavior. Although the things I did for her in the past cannot be erased, I hope Camila at least deletes the animation remake I did for her and all the collabs that boosted her views for free, though I'm not optimistic about it happening.

As I've matured, my hope is that she and her crew learn from their mistakes, start behaving like adults, and take responsibility for their actions in their future projects and with their new followers. But I'm skeptical about any real change, especially if their server continues to exist. The best course of action for me was to cut all ties with Camila and Glitchtale.

NyxTheShield (now my husband) and I have endured too much from our treatment by Camila. We no longer want to be associated with her or Glitchtale. It's a chapter of our lives that we wish to close. It's time for us to focus on recovering our mental health, as remaining silent is only prolonging our pain. We have been working to improve our mental and physical health over the past few years and this is a crucial part of our healing process.

#jakei says something #english

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reflections-in-a-critical-eye · 2 months ago

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Are You Sure?! Episode 6 Observations

10/10 ☆

A few weeks ago, when once again Jimin and Jungkook were pretending to be strangers in another roleplay session, I had this idea of what it might mean. A response that I categorize as ridiculous speculation on my part, but one which can be used as a starting point of one interpretation. The roleplay might just be part of their flirting (it is the main reason), but the type of narrative they always engaged with made me wonder.

Their stories always follow the theme of strangers meeting in a bar/cafe/forest/out on a lake, etc. Not a day went by in which they didn't do it. It almost feel like a reflex. Both Jimin and Jungkook fall into their parts instantly and they bounce of each other. Never an awkward pause. Never a line that falls flat. They always enjoy it and it comes naturally to them. It's a habit. But one that allows them to imagine themselves perhaps as just two regular guys where one uses a pick up line and the other one accepts that glass of whiskey. Because why not? Perhaps these are all fictional worlds in which they are not famous and they can be whoever they want.

Are You Sure?! might be in a way one of those fantasies. An attempt at "doing life" from people who are living unconventional lives and who are trying to do anything two friends or two lovers might do when they need a weekend away. Yes, we're aware of the convention. It is a show with a specific format. It is made for an audience. But it's a show where "nothing" happens. There's no actual dramatic points being pushed. It's a vlog with slightly higher productions costs in which shots from the subjects' hand held cameras are edited together with ones filmed from another pov. But the essence of it might be reduced to the "fantasy of the mundane".

That tone and perspective was perhaps most visible in episode 6 of AYS?! so far, despite the fact that the staff presence was felt a lot more.

Jimin and Jungkook play at life. One that gets to be highly romanticized in Sapporo by the subjects themselves. There's a constant feeling of living in a fantasy. In some cases, the roleplay and acting attempts made it obvious. The pick up line in a jazz bar and offering a glass of whiskey. Pretending they're in anime while gazing at the ocean from their train window. Such dreamers. And why not? Why not forget for 3 days that the world knows them, that they are working non-stop for their music or that they have to leave all their fantasies behind in two weeks?

Sometimes pretending helps. A "what if". They can live in this bubble where they don't have to sweep the snow and instead they can just run through it like puppies. They can go grab coffee on a weekday morning from that cafe on the corner where students gather everyday to study. They can squeeze a shoulder and gulp and freeze for a second when one of them gets baby fever in a train station. They can imagine a life in which they were same age friends, even though their hierarchy now is all backwards.

It's only for three days before they have to return to reality. For now, they stay in their Sapporo dream.

#m thoughts #jikook #jikook travel show #jikook are you sure

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chaoticbardlady99 · 11 months ago

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I Wondered If I Could Come Home? (Astarion x F! Reader)

Synopsis- It’s been 4 months since you last saw Astarion and 3 months since you killed the Netherbrain with your other companions. Shortly after, you settled down in Silverymoon to begin a life out there and try to push Astarion out of your mind- except it can never be that easy. You shortly discover you are pregnant with his child- a child that could kill you during childbirth. Scared and alone- Shadowheart stays with you to help you deliver the baby and keep you alive.

While out at the local market, Shadowheart runs into Gale and invites him over for dinner. Gale has unexpected company.

CW: Pregnancy, mentions of potential death during birth, mentions of nudity, mentions of NSFW smut

To my fellow DND fans- no this is probably not canon compliant, yes I’m upset about that, but look I really needed to write this so sue me I guess

Author note- Self indulgent, I have baby fever, but don’t want a baby fic. I’m unsure of how long this will be or if it will have more parts-it depends on how angsty I feel, but I need to have like six different ideas to think about at a time soooo 😂

*This hasn’t been edited ✨well✨so please forgive me

*again, no fucking clue who’s picture it is, but it sure as shit isn’t mine so if it’s yours- reach out so I can give credit!

You keep yourself propped up against the sink in the kitchen as Shadowheart holds your hair out of your face and dabbing away the cold sweat that drips down your neck.

You are really sick of being morning sick. It’s absolutely the worst thing in the world- well besides your potential death from carrying your little girl inside of you. You sometimes think Astarion may get his wish- you may just die screaming.

You dry heave one last time- not a single thing comes up because you haven’t kept a single thing down since two mornings ago. Your morning sickness is inconsistent and comes on with little to no warning.

It’s been five months since you conceived this fricken kid, but it was like all the symptoms hit after you killed the Netherbrain.

A part of you really wishes you had somehow known before then- maybe it would have changed the cruel fate that ended your relationship with Astarion. You were literally pregnant in the middle of fighting Cazador. You think about what he last said to you all the time and just sob hysterically- like it happened yesterday.

A deeper part of you feels abandoned, but you blame yourself for him leaving. You should have been more convincing or maybe you shouldn’t have flat out told him no and explained why in the hells you didn’t want him to ascend.

For example- you didn’t want to lose him to some evil version of himself.

Ironically, you lost him anyway and are pregnant with his fucking child who insists on occasionally making you miserable.

Despite your inherent sadness, anger, and sickness, you find you are actually quite excited to meet her. You haven’t settled on a name yet and Shadowheart has been very helpful in regards to making sure you are healthy and strong for delivery. She’s your best friend and you could not be more grateful for her.

“I’ll go back to the market today and get you more of those herbs,” Shadowheart says quietly when she talks to you, “they seemed to help last time?”

You nod- exhausted and your head is pounding. You and this kid are going to need to have a serious conversation. You will not be letting a second Acunin make you miserable before she is ever born.

Shadowheart guides you to your bed upstairs, standing behind you in case you get hit with a wave of vertigo- which usually happens post vomit episode.

You pull your curtains closed- thankful that the desperate hope in your heart led you to buying black out curtains. You close your door and lay down on your bed- tears spilling down your cheeks freely.

You miss him terribly. You shouldn’t. You should positively hate him, but everyday of this pregnancy makes you ache for him. You should be doing this together.

You know it’s hormones- the weepiness, the intense longing, and the Gods awful horniness. Dreams are the worst. You wake up a squirming disaster at least three times a week with your skin burning hot with memories of Astarion touching you.

You are happy that isn’t the case currently, but the weepiness sucks too. Remembering how he used to curl around you, the way it felt to have him kiss you on the forehead, and all those late night conversations with (now empty) promises. You curl yourself around your pillows, willing your imagination to pretend it’s him, and you sob until you fall asleep.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Astarion tries to contain his excitement and fear as he follows Gale and Shadowheart to your home. Finally, after searching for literal months, he was going to see you again.

Astarion has been haunted by the last words he had said to you for what feels like eons now. He hadn’t meant it at the time and he certainly doesn’t mean it now.

He had been too afraid to come back to you after everything he had said. Astarion decided you probably hate him anyway so he tried to move on.

He tried being with other people (it always failed miserably because they weren’t you), he drank until he couldn’t remember a damn thing, and when all else failed, he began his search for the Ring of the Sunwalker.

After the nightlife of Baldur’s Gate lost it’s appeal and he finally found a ring location, Astarion found himself in front of Gale’s door in Waterdeep- begging him of all people to help him.

The wizard had been puzzled and melancholy when he realized Astarion was at his door. Astarion told him every little piece of how he feels about you, how much he misses you, and how he wants to be able to give you the life that you deserve. Astarion was practically on the verge of hysteria while trying to make his case.

Thus began the search for the Ring of the Sunwalker.

They were able to locate and obtain one after a grueling three month long journey and some help from one of Gale’s old friends. Then, they headed straight to Silverymoon- your last known whereabouts.

Running into Shadowheart had felt like a miracle, but to also have her living with you had made the trip even easier. Except Shadowheart was being really really weird towards him.

When Gale first asked if Astarion could come along too, Shadowheart had asked Astarion why he wanted to come and see the person he “hoped died screaming?”

Astarion had flinched at the anger and venom in Shadowheart’s voice. He figured the others would be mad, but he was hoping maybe Shadowheart would give him a little easier time like Gale had. Astarion was genuinely surprised by how quick she was to be defensive of you and your whereabouts. When Gale confirmed that Astarion was telling the truth, Shadowheart reluctantly said he could come.

The three arrive at the front of your shared townhome- it faces the beach and has the perfect amount of windows for the sun to light up the house, but one of the rooms is hidden from sight with heavy, black out curtains.

Shadowheart turns to both of them, “Tav might not be able to join us… she’s been sick for a bit now and is… recuperating.”

Astarion feels his heart drop to his stomach.

“Sick? For how long?”

Shadowheart shifts on her feet uncomfortably, “5 months, but it got worse around 3 months.”

“Tav has been sick for that long?” Gale exclaims, “why didn’t you write!? I could have helped.”

“This particular affliction is one you wouldn’t understand,” Shadowheart says with a finality that suggests the conversation is done as she leads them into the kitchen.

Shadowheart immediately gets fussing with the herbs while Gale looks around the house. Astarion is still unsure of what he should be doing. The house engulfs him in your scent and he feels positively intoxicated. You must be really sick though because your scent smells different- not bad at all, just different.

Does he talk to Shadowheart? Does he look around with Gale?

Or does he sneak off and find you? Astarion doesn’t want to waste anymore time than he already has. Slowly, he creeps towards the stairs.

“Don’t even think about it, Astarion,” Shadowheart warns.

Astarion looks at her and then back at the stairs. He does this a couple times until Shadowheart appears to be annoyed enough that she’s let her guard down a bit.

Astarion takes off up the steps and he hears Shadowheart and Gale coming up right behind him.

Astarion hears a dry heave from down the hallway and he goes racing for the door.

If you are as sick as Shadowheart has suggested (5 months is crazy long), Astarion may not have much time with you and Gods he needs to take advantage of the time he does have.

Shadowheart be damned.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You wake up feeling even worse than you did when you fell asleep. Your headache feels like it’s taken on a life on it’s own and Gods you are going to vomit all over the floor if you don’t move NOW!

You get up with an impossible amount of speed for how dizzy you are and you grab the pail on your nightstand and heave painfully.

You are rocking back and forth, groaning as more stomach acid comes up because again, not able to even keep anything down.

You hear a pair of footsteps and then Shadowheart screaming after-

“ASTARION! THEY ARE SICK! YOU NEED TO WAIT!”

“I have been looking for them for months now,” you hear him hiss, “if they are sick, I need to see them. If this has lasted five months- then who knows how much time I’ve wasted!”

“Will you stop being selfish for five minutes!? It’s not about you and who even says she wants to see you!?”

Shadowheart and Astarion are yelling in front of your door now. You feel tears prick your eyes- Astarion is here. Here here. A flurry of excited kicks from inside you catches your attention and a feeling of blissful happiness comes over you. Oh look, the nausea is gone. Of course it is.

“Traitor,” you whisper before laying down on your bed for a moment.

You are very happy that your unborn daughter appears to be pleased and feels good about her dad being on the other side of the door. You, on the other hand, are less than optimistic.

Wasted time doing what? And why did Shadowheart say I was sick!? In what world was that going to keep him from going upstairs!? Especially if he, your mind pauses, cares about me? Again?

Which you hope he does- you would hope Shadowheart wasn’t so sick of taking care of you that she brought him here to finish the job. Maybe this is all one big show.

Another, “I WILL DO WHAT I PLEASE” from Astarion, a “YOU SELFISH BASTARD” from Shadowheart, and a “Please can’t we all just be nice, catch up, and get along?” from Gale finally gives you the motivation to get up. The arguing feels far too much like being in camp again. You pinch the bridge of your nose, willing the growing headache to go away.

It doesn’t so you change into a pair of longer cotton pajama pants, a t-shirt that is unfortunately showing off your bump more than you’d like, and then you swing open the door in tired annoyance.

You are met with Astarion looking at you- his eyes scanning up and down your body- settling on your stomach. His expression is unreadable- it’s somewhere between lust, love, grief, and heartbreak. Embarrassed by Astarion’s intense gaze, you look over at Gale who is all smiles for you.

“Congratulations Tav!!!” Gale practically yells, making you wince, “the father is a lucky man.”

“I don’t think he considers himself a lucky man,” you say pointedly before turning to Astarion, “or do you?”

Astarion’s face changes entirely with your words. His eyes look at you, round and soft. His eyes are full of adoration and need- a look you never thought he would give you again. You have to fight the urge to grab him and drag him into your bedroom. You will not let the hormones win- you will be strong.

“I- it’s- I mean,” Astarion is fumbling over his words, “you are carrying my child?”

“Yes,” you say grumpily, crossing your arms,” and she’s been giving me nothing but trouble. Thanks to your genetics, I’m sure. This is day two of not being able to keep a damn thing down and this fucking headache is UNBEARABLE so please for the love of every God keep the arguing down.”

Astarion is still looking at you with a mystified expression- taking you in as if for the first time in his entire life. You look back towards Gale and Shadowheart- you are entirely too self-conscious and way too excited to see him for him to be looking at you like that. You are trying to be mad dammit!

Shadowheart gazes at you and your surely red tipped ears with amusement before she says, “I’ll go and get the potion ready for you- that should hopefully help.”

“I will- uh,” Gale says awkwardly, looking between you and Astarion, “join you! I might need to know which herbs to use… in the future?”

“Planning on getting pregnant Gale?” You say with a smirk.

Gale snorts at you, “Dear friend, as wonderful as you look right now- none of the side effects sound appealing.”

“Oh they most certainly aren’t,” you say,” but thanks for thinking I look ‘wonderful’. I feel, well, disgusting.”

“Gods, how could you even think that?” Astarion blurts out, appearing shocked that he even said it, “you look like…. A vision. A wonderful, stunning vision, Darling.”

Shadowheart and Gale excuse themselves as you struggle to find the words for Astarion’s comment. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire and you feel yourself begin to melt a little bit. You feel your emotions bloom into something resembling spring as he steps closer to you- looking at you with pleading eyes.

You clear your throat, “would you like to come into my room and talk?”

Astarion nods eagerly, following behind you so close that you once again have to remind yourself that ripping off the clothes of someone who literally told you they wanted you to die screaming was not healthy- at least not until you get a proper apology.

You sit against your headboard as Astarion walks around your room- running his fingers along the bassinet and rocking chair in the corner. You still can’t get a read on him.

“A girl?”

His question breaks the air.

“Yes,” you smile at him, “no name yet though.”

“I’m sure you’ll pick a nice one,” he says with a smile, but his tone is entirely too melancholic.

A painful thump in your heart fills your body with sadness. He doesn’t want to be involved. Of course he doesn’t want to be involved. You are his knocked up ex-girlfriend. What were you expecting? The lump forming in your throat is unbearable.

“You don’t want to be involved?”

Oh good Gods you are crying. Astarion rushes over to you the minute your tears begin to fall- sitting in front of you on the bed. He reaches out and gently wipes your tears away as he speaks.

“I want to be involved so badly it hurts,” his voice comes out scratchy and emotional, “but that is your decision, not mine. You have been on your own for months, my Love. Instead of trying to come back and make it better- I pushed it off until I thought I could give you what you deserved- a life in the sun.”

You almost whine in protest when his hands leave your face. He twists the ring around his index finger before continuing, avoiding your gaze, “But maybe I was wrong. Maybe what you deserve is a person that isn’t so damaged. Someone who can give you what you actually deserve which is a loving partner who hasn’t hurt you over and over again- a man worthy of being a father to ou- I mean your child.”

His confession and the tears that are streaming down his face are enough for you. Yes, you absolutely want to scream and yell at him, but you also ache for him. You can’t fault the man for being a slave for 200 years and then not taking it very well when you told him what to do. You always knew you would forgive him if he came back- you never thought he would, but here he is and like he said- there is no reason to keep wasting time.

“She is our child, Star,” you whisper and guide his eyes to look at you, “I want you to be involved. I don’t care what you think I deserve either. I have missed you so horribly since you left. It’s almost pathetic really. I’ve tried to blame it on the hormones, but… I don’t know. The picture has felt incomplete up until now.”

You absentmindedly put your hand on your stomach- receiving a kick. You glare at the place where your hand is resting.

“Will you stop kicking me for five minutes!?” You scream, “I WAS IN THIS BODY FIRST!”

Astarion looks at you bewildered and confused, but quickly realizes you aren’t talking about him. The smile that spreads across his face is wide and Astarion gingerly moves closer. You are still a little cautious- needing to protect not only yourself, but also your unborn child. He moves to the right of you and goes to move you just slightly so he can slip in behind you.

“Could I? I mean if it’s not crossing any boundaries!”

Astarion is on edge- you can tell that much, but he doesn’t look at you like he did that last time you saw him- Astarion is looking at you like you are the most precious individual who has ever walked this earth.

You nod shyly, and then Astarion slots himself behind you, your back against his chest, his face in the crook of your neck, and his legs on either side of yours. He cautiously puts his hands on your stomach and is immediately kicked.

Astarion laughs with joy, “she’s strong!”

“Strong willed and strong physically,” you shake your head and you are laughing a bit now too, “you may just get your wish yet.”

“What wish?”

It had slipped. You hadn’t meant to bring it up again- or maybe you did. You want to know for sure if he still feels that way, but the confusion in his voice says he doesn’t. You go rigid and go to dismiss it when you feel his posture change behind you, his grip loosening ever so slightly.

“Right… that.”

The silence is nerve-wracking. You’ve lost him again, you are sure of it. A stray tear begins to roll down your cheek.

“Astarion-“

“No, let me think, Darling. I want to make sure I say everything I want to say correctly.”

You continue to sit there in silence, he places soft kisses on your neck. You feel him smile against your skin at the needy moan that escapes your lips. You absentmindedly reach out for one of his hands and begin to play with his fingers while he thinks. Astarion used to let you do this all the time while you were traveling- it helps you feel grounded.

“I was so consumed by all that power in the moment,” he says slowly, “I wasn’t thinking. By the time I had realized what I had done, I felt like it was already too late- you most likely hated me and moved on.”

You have to bite your tongue- you want to scream. Hate him? Never. You had been miserable without him around for that last month of traveling. Your heart had felt like a dead weight in your chest and you had been moving around like a zombie.

“So I tried to move on… I even tried to be with others, but I just couldn’t do it. It’s selfish, but I want you. I never want anything bad to happen to you- I certainly don’t ever want you to die screaming. I don’t want you to ever carry a child that is not mine.”

You are surprised by the warmth in your core when he says his last sentence. There is something so primal there that you have to really focus on what he is saying next.

Astarion clears his throat before finishing speaking, “I don’t want to be without you anymore- four months is too long. I don’t want to miss out on anymore of your pregnancy and I want to be here for you- with you- doing this together like we should have been doing this whole time. I was a horrible fool- please give me another chance. Please, Darling. I love you- so so much more than I ever thought anyone could ever love someone.”

Astarion’s words hang in the air and you are trying not to begin crying for the 15th billion time. This is what you had wanted to hear all along. You can feel his tears on the collar of your shirt- the way he inhales as if to memorize your scent like this is the last time. Astarion is not expecting you to say yes- you know that because he’s starting to loosen up, pulling away from you so that he can respect your decision.

“I love you too,” you whisper, “I don’t want to be without you anymore either. I forgive you- please stay.”

“I won’t be going anywhere unless you want me too, my Love.”

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x you #bg3 spoilers #astarion romance #astarion x tav #karlach #bg3 #astarion x f! reader #astarion x f!tav #pregnancy #astarion acunin

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pastanest · 8 months ago

Text

Spencer Reid x gn!reader

A/N: been gone for a hot minute due to personal circumstances but just wanted to drop a lil something (that anyone who watches Doctor Who will be able to tell I started writing a BIT ago given the references here lol) to let you guys know I’m still kickin it <3

warnings: slight hint at an age gap but nothing specific

A Smile

You can imagine the rest of the team would be floored to hear that Spencer has actually exchanged texts with you on a multitude of occasions, outside of professional settings. Numbers were swapped on your first day, naturally, and to begin with you only dared text Spencer if you had absolutely no other choice (if another member of the team could text him, you’d busy yourself to ensure they would, rather than ask you, to save you the embarrassment). But, ever since the first occasion that you texted Spencer a random question out of hours - regarding trivia you definitely hadn’t spent a concerning amount of time deciding on before you sent it to him - you have formed a bond that’s unspoken beyond typed words.

You: so, are you looking forward to the 60th Anniversary? :P

As you hit send, you roll onto your bed, grinning giddily down at your phone. In no more than a few seconds, your screen tells you that your beloved genius is already typing back to you, and within a minute, you receive the paragraph you’d anticipated.

Spencer: Absolutely. The revival of Russel T. Davies’ era, coupled with the return of Murray Gold’s legendary scores, are sure to ignite the spark of nostalgia that the show has been missing for some time. In particular, I am looking forward to seeing how Russel will format this new regeneration of the Doctor, and how many references to his predecessors will decorate the anniversary episodes, especially. I take it you are excited for the anniversary episodes, too, hence the question?

His formality and enthusiasm being conveyed in a way that is so distinctly Spencer, even over text, is enough to have you giggling. You know by now that if you ask something about one of Spencer’s interests, whether it be facts, statistics, generalized trivia, questions, literature, Star Trek or, in this case, Doctor Who, there is no way he can downplay his excitement.

You: knew it! :D and yeah, I'm super excited!!

Mostly, you are thrilled by the thought of discussing the episodes at great length with Spencer for weeks after they’ve aired, but you keep that safely in the subtext of your conversation.

Spencer: Of course you knew. Perhaps we could share a live commentary on the anniversary episodes, if we’re not otherwise engaged with a case?

Only Spencer Reid can make your heart stop with a suggestion like that. Before you can consider any consequences, you are frantically typing back to him.

You: I’d love that! will the commentary be by text or call?

He is typing the moment your message reaches him, his ability to read at what you consider to be the speed of light making for a wonderfully speedy texting partner in every conversation you have.

Spencer: Either is fine, but if we aren’t away on a case, I must admit the idea of experiencing the episodes together in person would be most preferable. It eradicates the risk of our viewings not being synced up or our call connection potentially spoiling the immersion. What do you think?

And just like that, he’s stopped your heart again. In fact, you truly have to consider whether Spencer Reid has figured out a means of reaching through his phone to yours, to snatch your heart right out of your chest. As though he hadn’t already stolen it on the day you met.

You: I think you’re right, like always, Doctor Reid :P

That’s a rational reply, you think. Not too eager. Not the resounding ‘yes’ that every fiber of your being is screaming. In the chess game that is how-to-text-Spencer-Reid, you have marked yourself as the queen. He’d tell you that’s not how chess works, but he’d probably also agree.

Spencer: I’m far from right “always”, but I very much appreciate that you think so.

You’re about to reply, when another text appears on your screen.

Spencer: (:

Doctor Spencer Reid has double-texted you. And, not only that, he’s sent you a smiley face. This is unprecedented. Your jaw drops.

You: omg you did not just send that

Honestly, your life is flashing before your eyes as you lie on your bed. Is this the power of your influence? Could you truly indoctrinate older men into sending emojis? Could this really be you?

Spencer: I most certainly did. I’ll even do it again.

Spencer: (:

He had to send it as a separate text. He couldn’t just add the smiley face to the end of his original message. No, of course he couldn’t.

You: omg who are you!!

You’re laughing now. Actually, properly laughing at the ridiculousness of this situation. Wait until Penelope hears about this.

Spencer: I don’t think these suit me very much, but they are fun. What about this one - 🙂

This is going too far. You’ve played God. You’ve flown too close to the sun. You’ve created a monster in the form of Spencer Reid using emojis while still being so formal. Still, you can’t deny that this is perhaps the funniest conversation you have ever had, with anyone, specifically because it perfectly demonstrates the unique humor shared between the two of you.

You: woah! careful! don’t push it, genius!!

And, in response to that, Spencer Reid is left with a philosophical question he has never before pondered: how does one convey sincere laughter via text? This reply takes him the longest, because he has to consider it very carefully. He wants it to indicate how funny he did find your message, and does find you, in general. He wants it to be obvious in its intent and impossible to misunderstand. So, after four minutes, you receive a text that has you laughing so hard you very nearly fall off of your bed.

Spencer: Haha.

Sometimes, that’s simply how your text conversations with Spencer end. While he does, generally, prefer a more traditional ending in the form of a goodnight text (that he actually makes the effort to sign off with a “- Spencer x”, like it’s a handwritten letter), he enjoys the nuances of an open end, on the basis it means a conversation with you doesn’t have to end. Only has to pause, temporarily, until one of you picks it back up again. There is something poetic, Spencer thinks, to the notion of you being his constant both in metaphor and literally in a text conversation that isn’t formally closed. That door is left open to you, much like the door to his heart is.

And that night, he closes his eyes with a smile on his face at the thought of you, everything you are, everything you make him feel. Everything that makes you, you, and how that makes you everything to him.

A text could never truly convey the heaven that you bring to him by existing, but just like proposing plans to watch Doctor Who with you, it’s a good place to start.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #imagine #imagines #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #headcannon #headcannons #spencer reid headcannon #spencer reid imagines

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ineffable-suffering · 1 year ago

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Why Aziraphale is an unreliable narrator

Part 1: The Story of Job

I'm absolutely not the first one to talk about this on here and I probably shan't be the last either. Alas, here's my take on why all of the minisodes in Season 2 should be enjoyed with great care – and taken with a grain of angelic salt.

I'm gonna split this into 3 parts, aka the three minisodes we are shown, since I tend to get a bit waffley in my posts and want to still be able to include all the little details. Once I've written them, I'll link Part 2 & Part 3 here as well!

Alright, let's get into it under the cut of doom.

Episode 2 opens with the Story of Job. Right off the bat, I noticed that it sort of looks like an old film playing. At first I didn't read that much into it, but once we see the cut-away to Aziraphale at the bookshop, currently reading that part of the Bible (presumably), I immediately thought: "Oh! It's because it's his memory. He's remembering how it went down and therefore it plays like a figurative film in his head."

This, I then came to realize, is a very crucial difference to all the flashbacks of S1, which were exclusively told and narrated by God. May her intensions be as ineffable as they are: She did tell us all of these stories from an objective outsider's point of view. Now, however, it's Aziraphale who's re-telling those stories to us from memory.

And if there's one thing that's for certain, it's that a memory is something entirely different to an objective narration of a story. Just think about how you yourself remember things. Especially things that happened years, maybe even decades (or, in an angel's case, millenia) ago. What is it, that you really remember? Can you know for sure, that a conversation was held with those exact words? Are you 100% certain that the clothes someone wore weren't different? Had it really been snowing or would that make very little sense given what you're remembering happened in May? And did it even happen in May? Or does that just happen to be your favourite month, the current weather, your preferred style of clothing and what it was that you would imagine someone would have said to you?

What I'm trying to say is: The further away it is that something happened, the more your brain has to fill in the gaps. This is why, for example, your parents will remember the family summer holiday entirely different when you ask them about it 20 years later.

"No, it was Sarah who puked on the car ride home!" "Nonsense, Sarah never puked as a child. Bobby had that gone-off pizza, he's the one that was sick the whole ride long!"

We've all been there. Bobby made it out alive. Don't buy gas station pizza.

Alright, back to the plot: Naturally, Aziraphale is not actually human, so it is a pure assumption on my part that the way his memory works is similar to ours. However, the whole topic of "memory" is actually quite a recurring one on Good Omens.

Crowley seems to have lost his in the Fall, yet somehow managed to get most of it back. Not all of it, though, he clearly has some major gaps ("You used to jump on me back, little monkey in the waistcoat!"). Beelzebub helps Gabriel store all his memories in their little fly container before they get wiped entirely too, by the Metatron and/or Saraqael. Crowley and Aziraphale (and possibly Jimbriel) perform a miracle together that makes everyone in Heaven and Hell forget who Garbiel is or what he looks like. And we know that the Book of Life apparently has the ability to completely erase someone from existence – ergo also erasing them from everyone's memory and making it is as though the person had never been in them at all.

So, clearly, angels and demons being able to remember, forget, reconstruct and, if you're the Metadork, wipe memories, is very much canon. Apart from that very last one, it does make them quite human-like in a way. We too can forget or (wrongfully and incompletely) reconstruct memories, due to things like trauma, illness or simply a lot of time having passed.

So, just like Crowley remembers going into battle but doesn't remember Furfur being there, or just like Jimbriel has entierly forgotten who he is but still remembers the tune and lyrics to Buddy Holly's song Everyday, and just like archangel Michael was miraculously made to forget Gabriel and yet says "Don't I know you?" when seeing him again – just like that, Aziraphale's memories of the story of Job, the story of wee Morag and the story of the magic show in 1941, might not actually be the whole truth.

So, time to look at where the furniture isn't.

Now, it could very well be that the costume designers of S2 thought: "Fuck it, let's go crazy" – but given that this show has a track record of meticulously making sure to stick to accurate and cohesive character design, doesn't it strike you as odd that Crowley would go from this look at the Flood in Mesopotamia, 3004 BC:

... to the (very iconic, don't get me wrong) Bildad the Shuhuite drip in 2500 BC:

... back to this at the crucifixion of Jesus Christ in 33 AD:

I mean ... I mean– come on, that seems like a bit of a far stretch, even for someone as enthusiastically experimental with fashion as Crowley.

And it's not just that: Where did the sunglasses come from, all of a sudden? And why do they look like some sort of obscure, ancient optometrist's device? It's a known historical fact that the Romans were the ones to have invented sunglasses, somewhere around 50-ish AD. Which actually matches perfectly with when Crowley and Aziraphale meet again in Rome 8 years after the crucifixion (51 AD).

So, where do the weird spectacles come from, over 2000 years too early? Maybe from Aziraphale's brain filling in some gaps? Hasn't Crowley always worn those ridiculous sunglasses? Was it Rome? Or Golgotha? Wessex? Oh, blimey, what does it matter!

And it's not just Crowley: Aziraphale's own clothes, as well as the other angels', seem to be very different from the rather plain linen we see him wear before and after the story of Job.

They're laced with golden embroidery along the neckline and sleeves. The remind almost of the clothes angels are depicted wearing in biblical and historical drawings. Ornate and decadent. Not at all like we see Aziraphale in the other flashbacks of S1.

Even Bildad the Shuhite's hair within the minisode keeps changing, going from all pouffy and voluminous to rather deflated and straight-looking:

The costume department either had to fix up two seperate wigs or manually straighten out the volume of the one again to give it a more sleek look. I'm not a professional in this field, but if there's anything I've learned from watching hours of behind-the-scenes material of movies and shows, it's that very little about costume, character, prop and set design is purely coincidental.

You know what it could be, though? An accurate representation of how memories aren't linear, historically correct and objective representations of a certain event, but rather an ever-changing, jumbled mess of impressions, emotions and exaggerations.

More specifically: Aziraphale's impression, emotions and exaggerations.

Like "remembering" Crowley with sunglasses because he's been wearing them for so long.

Like "remembering" himself wearing more luxurious, angelic clothes because that's how he thinks of the difference between Heaven and Hell.

Like "remembering" the permit as a ridiculously long scroll that folded out over an entire valley.

Like "remembering" Job's children to be weirdly sassy in an almost Aziraphale-esque way (Enon: "Don't be silly!") for the fact that Job would have probably taught them to be more humble and obedient in the presence of a literal angel.

Like "remembering" eating an entire fucking Ox after having just one bite of it while Crowley watched him lustfully, sipping on his wine.

Like "remembering" Crowley calling him 'angel', despite them having barely known each other back then.

There's a reason why the flashbacks in S2 seem so much more alive, quirky and, at many points, confusing and all over the place. Because they're not objective stories being told by a third party. They're Aziraphale's. So much of his own thoughts and feelings at the time get projected onto them because that's simply how memory works!

It's subjective. It's unrealiable.

It's not that I'm calling Aziraphale a liar. He's no more a liar than your parents are, mixing up Sarah and Bobby. Or you, remembering snow instead of sunshine. Memories aren't lies. They can simply be faulty, focus on things that you thought were more important and leaving out or changing things that weren't, to you.

The real challenge in all of this, is trying to filter through Aziraphale's stories to see what it actually is they're telling us. Where it is that the furniture isn't. And I think in this case, that's 6 main things (eff you, God, I know you like sevens, but I don't care):

God and Satan (still) talk to each other We see that Aziraphale is quite surprised when Muriel mentions that the whole Job thing is God's bet with Satan. But clearly, despite having made him and the rest fall, God still converses with Her number one traitor about whether or not the humans simply love Her because she gives them nice things or because they truly believe in Her.

God and Satan (and Heaven and Hell) can and do collaborate with each other when they feel like it So much for choosing sides, huh? Truthfully, this is not the first time this is shown to us, but still. It's another piece of evidence on the growing pile.

Aziraphale understands the World and humans way better than any of the other angels "Well, you see ... Citis is 58 ..."

Aziraphale, despite having troubles voicing it, absolutely disagrees and even condemns God's plan of destroying Job's children (and goats and camels and––)

Aziraphale is willing to lie and thwart the will of God Also not the first time we're being shown this but again, piiiile of evidence.

Angels don't automatically Fall simply by doing the above To me, this is one of the most important take aways. It's already hinted in S1 as well that 'Falling' seems to have been a one time even back when the first war broke out in Heaven. And I actually believe that ever since then, no other angels have Fallen again. Aziraphale is the best example for this. He has gone against God's plan numerous times and even lied to her very face (voice?) about it. And yet, nothing ever happened to him. Why exactly that is the case remains a topic for another meta (that I might or might not be working on already, teehee).

Alright, that concludes this first look at the Job minisode! If there's anything I missed, feel free to share it with me. I'll try and add Part 2 (the story of wee Morag) and Part 3 (the magic show of 1941) soon.

Update: Part 2 and Part 3 have officially been written, you can find it them right here:

Part 2: The Story of wee Morag

Part 3: The Story of the Magic Show in 1941

Hugs and kisses, (God)!

#good omens #good omens season 2 #gos2 #go2 #good omens 2 #good omens meta #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #story of job #job minisode #good omens analysis #aziraphale is a storyteller #but not a very accurate one #my own meta

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milliesfishes · 3 months ago

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౨ৎDon't Worry Darling (The Aftermath)౨ৎ꣑ৎ

[fem reader] contains: signs of trauma, mentions of kidnapping pairing: coriolanus snow x fem reader summary: you and coriolanus comfort your daughter in the wake of her kidnapping author’s note: thank you sm anon for requesting this! <3 Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

Nobody ever talks about the after of the unimaginable. The end of the story is supposed to be assurance that the ones who went through it are safe and sound. How you wished everything had been neatly tied with a bow in your case.

As you attempted to console your baby girl as she cried, the memory of her horrible ordeal fresh in her mind and causing her distress, you wished the burden of her pain was yours to take away. With every sob that wracked her little body, you felt a stab in your chest.

Penny had been in a state of nearly perpetual anxiety ever since the events of a month ago You were aware of very little of what had actually occurred, the details kept quiet by your husband. The only thing you knew was that Penny was suffering for it.

Nightmares disturbed her sleep, phantoms invisible to you playing out in front of her. It had become a regular thing for Coriolanus and you to be roused from your slumber by the piercing, heartbreaking sound of her crying.

While she was awake she clung to the two of you, primarily her father. You suspected her preference likely had to do with his hand in her rescue. It was a sweet sight- him holding his daughter and whispering to her that everything was okay, that she was safe with him. He was often the one who went to her when she had a nightmare, insisting you needed your sleep due to your ongoing pregnancy. To his credit, he was often able to calm her down within a few minutes, returning to you with assurances that she was okay.

But now, as you knelt on the floor of the nursery with Penny, attempting to soothe her, Coriolanus was nowhere to be found. He had phoned to say he'd be running late due to a meeting that ran overtime. Of course this was when Penny needed him this badly. It was sorely unusual for her to have an episode during the day, when she hadn't been asleep.

Sniffling, with crystal tears staining her cheeks, Penny clung to you, fitting into your arms around your belly, her face buried in your neck. Fingers roving over her light silken hair, the same color as her father's, you murmured, "It's okay, sweetheart. You're safe, my love. I'm right here with you."

"Mama," she sobbed into you, little hand clinging to your dress. "They're gonna come get me."

"Nobody's coming to get you," you promised, holding her a little tighter. "You're safe right here."

"I want Daddy!" Her words trailed off into a sob, and you rocked her back and forth, rubbing her back

"Daddy's gonna be home soon." You pressed a kiss to the top of her head, humming a lullaby you used to sing her to sleep with. The sound of the familiar melody seemed to calm her slightly, and she grasped at you, breaths slowing down.

You shifted in your spot so she was more comfortably positioned against you, and the baby within the safety of your stomach did too, tapping a kick against your side.

Penny lifted her head, staring up at you with wide eyes. "Mama?" She looked down at your belly in surprise. "What's that?"

Running a hand over your bump, you squeezed her against you, following her eyes. "It's the baby. Your brother or sister."

Her eyebrows lifted in shock, and she touched your stomach carefully, feeling the baby kick you again. She gasped slightly, looking back up at you. "Why's the baby kicking."

Smiling gently, you rubbed your hand over her back, relieved to have distracted her from her tears. "Baby's worried about you."

She blinked once, eyes falling to your stomach again. Leaning forward, she whispered, "Hi baby." The child inside you kicked the space under her hand, as if responding to her.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway, and you looked up just as Coriolanus appeared in the doorway, his sleeves already rolled up, tie discarded. His hair was messier than it had been this morning, and you could see his curls beginning to form through the gel. It was your favorite version of his hair, and you knew he'd let you run your fingers through it once you were in bed.

He smiled tiredly, taking in the sight before him and coming forward, kneeling at your side. Pressing a kiss to your cheek, Coriolanus held out his arms for his daughter, who ran promptly into them. "Daddy!"

"How's my shiny Penny?" Coriolanus kissed the top of her head, and she fisted his shirt. His cerulean eyes found yours, and the corners of your lips lifted sadly.

"We've been calming down," you explained, and he held out his arm to you, understanding instantly. It was no easy thing bringing your daughter down from her anguish. Leaning into him, your belly pressing against his thigh, you found your usual place under his arm. He rubbed your side, kissing your hair gently.

It was a lovely picture: you and your daughter nestled against him. You knew that nothing brought Coriolanus more joy than holding his girls. Indeed, to the both of you, his arms were a safe harbor that kept you warm. And he was the protector, the one who held you tight and assured you of the fact that everything was okay.

In your marriage, you had always been secure in his feelings for you. Not once had you ever questioned his utter devotion to your being, to your family. It was nearly illicit for a man of his stature and power to hold such tender love, but he did anyways. This was one of the things you loved the most about him. Your Coryo.

He insisted on putting Penny to bed, sending you off to prepare for sleep on your own. You removed the day's clothing, donning a lacy nightdress that your belly poked through. Behind the window you could see that it was beginning to rain, droplets of water sliding down the glass pane. The sound of water beating against the roof had always brought you comfort, and after your daughter's earlier distress you found you needed it.

You settled yourself under the covers, pulling a blanket over your lap. Coriolanus appeared much sooner than expected, stripping his clothes away and getting in bed with you, engulfing your tired form in his arms. The warmth of them was welcoming, and you snuggled close, body instantly sleepy. He had that effect on you- the one that instantly relaxed you and knocked down any walls you held up for your safety. There was no need to protect yourself here.

The night's gentle touch kissed your tired body as your husband whispered that he loved you, and you felt the call of sleep beckoning. Like a nightingale's song, you followed it down a path so familiar, drifting into your dreams.

In the quiet of the night, a scream that made your blood run cold wrenched you from the sleep you'd so desperately needed.

Sitting up suddenly out of Coriolanus' arms, you looked around wide-eyed, sure it had come from your bedroom. Thunder rumbled outside, tapping out a beat against the roof in rain's morse code. When you turned your head to the side, a flash of lightning like two fingers lit the distance.

Even now you could still hear it- the long wail that echoed from down the hallway like a ghost's call. Immediately you recognized it. Penny.

Sitting up beside you, your husband looked alert, hardly any sleep lingering in his eyes. He was as light a sleeper as you were lately- hardly able to keep unconscious with your daughter's affliction in mind. You knew his own dreams tormented him- he'd never breathed a word of what he'd seen or done when Penny had been taken. But it haunted his being. Anyone could see it.

You moved to throw aside the covers and run to your crying baby, but he put a hand on your knee, quelling your motions. "I'll get her. Go back to sleep." The both of you knew you wouldn't.

Combing fingers through your hair, you pulled the blanket securely around you, turning your head to the window. Another shock of thunder boomed like a church bell, and it hit you then that the storm must have been what scared Penny. The notion broke your heart as it was wont to do lately. Bringing a hand to your belly, you rubbed it absentmindedly, hoping and praying this baby wouldn't have to go through anything near as earth shattering.

The door opened and shut, and the sight of Coriolanus carrying a sniffling Penny met your vision. In your mind's eye you could see what must have happened- him walking in on her crying and reaching for him, scooping her up into his arms and muttering words of comfort. Despite everything, you smiled lightly, endeared as you always were by what a good father he continually proved himself to be.

Once Penny was on the bed, you reached out for her, gathering her close and hugging her tight. "Oh my sweet girl..." You cradled her close, rocking your body back and forth. "Everything's okay. It's all okay."

Lifting your eyes to Coriolanus, your chest heaved with a tired sigh. His eyes held a similar contempt. You knew what he was thinking because it was on your mind too.

Burying your nose in your baby girl's hair, you rubbed your hand up her arm. The mattress dipped, and then his arms were around you, holding the two of you just as he had earlier. Penny murmured for her daddy in a sweet little voice, and you shifted closer to Coriolanus, guiding her to turn around and snuggle up to him.

"Make the loud stop," Penny mumbled into his chest. You took in a breath, reaching over and rubbing her back, trying to comfort her the best you could. Coriolanus kissed the top of her head, holding her steadfastly.

"It's almost over, sweetheart," he promised, sliding his arm under you to pull you into him as well. "Just close your eyes."

Settled between you, Penny's little hands found your belly, where the baby had begun to kick once more. She whispered. "Baby isn't sleeping."

"Baby wants you to feel better," you murmured, stroking her hair.

Penny held a fistful of your nightdress as she felt the baby kicking again. She mumbled sleepily, "It's okay baby."

Touching your belly seemed to soothe her, and you watched in awe as her eyes drifted shut, her breathing quickly lulling with sleep. Looking up at Coriolanus with wide eyes, you felt a slight smile of pure relief come over you. She was calm. She was sleeping.

Coriolanus settled in closer, pressing his lips to the top of your head for a long moment. The way he looked at the two of you expressed nothing less than absolute devotion. You hadn't known how visible an emotion could be in someone before now.

His love knew no bounds. In a swoop of everything good in the world, the way he held you promised a future of light though the present was unclear. You knew he would stop at nothing until Penny was better.

The universe was at his fingertips, and he gave it all to you, every last speck of stardust. You and Penny were his treasures, and he treated you as such. As the storm raged outside, you felt it bloom within you. The only worthy thing in this world, the feeling every person desired.

He would take the Fates' pen and write the happy ending himself if that was what it took. Your life, your love, your heart. You put it in his hands as he rocked you and your daughter back into the deep throes of sleep.

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catboyieejeno · 1 year ago

Text

don't kiss and tell: part 3 ♡⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝

other parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

pairings: best friend! mark + best friend! jeno + best friend! hyuck x female! reader summary: maybe you indulged yourself too much. you always knew that if any of you caught feelings, things would get complicated. if you knew, then why did you let it get this far? content: non-idol au, explicit smut, cursing, pet names, angst, foursome with switch! reader, switch! mark, switch but sorta sub! haechan, sorta dom! jeno, unprotected sex (pls be safe), hair pulling, fingering, oral sex (male recieving), creampie, there is plot (please read parts 1 and 2 to fully understand!) wc: 10.2k

masterlist

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

18+ minors do not interact !

!¡

“no.”

“but mark-”

“absolutely not.”

“mark, please.”

“we end up doing this every time.”

“this is the last time, i promise!" you plea, one hand resting on his tense arm, "and if i remember correctly, the last two times we did this, it was your idea!”

with the heaviest and most dramatic of sighs, mark’s shoulders sink down in defeat, head rolling back. the last syllable is dragged out as he complains again, "but we've seen this episode before!"

"yes, but it was so long ago that i don’t even remember what happened, please!" you insist, black remote clutched stubbornly in your hand. when he takes longer than two seconds to conjure a convincing argument, your finger presses the middle play button without missing a beat, just in case the boy next to you decides to protest again.

as revenge, the bowl of buttered popcorn, still warm from being recently made, is snatched off of your lap and clutched between mark's palms as he settles under the blanket.

"alright, fine. but pay attention this time so that you don't start asking questions," he's only half-joking, even when he tilts the bowl away and out of your reach playfully. incapable of really denying you anything, mark notices your puffed out cheeks and snorts, compliantly setting the bowl between your bodies. you're busy rolling your eyes, muttering something under your breath close to the effect of "i don't ask that many questions."

while your right hand reaches in to grab a few pieces and pop them into your mouth, you train your eyes on the tv in mark's room. it's the only source of light in the otherwise dark space, illuminating the sharpest points of your faces in cool-toned hues of blue and purple.

maybe it's because he has already seen this episode and is only re-watching it to appease you—and reinforce your lacking memory of the plot—but mark's dark orbs find themselves troubled with the task of concentrating on the screen. instead, they're fixed on you, swimming over the curves of your features.

he's caught himself thinking about you more often these days: jumping for his phone in hopes that it's your name that appears when he gets a text, or staring at you with no intention of looking away unless there's a chance you may catch his eye. at first, he considered knocking some sense into himself and snapping out of this risky habit he's developed, but how could he do that when the very mention of your name provokes a whirlwind of thoughts?

without tilting his head too much in your direction and giving himself away, mark watches the slow rise and fall of your chest. much like his gaze, his mind is preoccupied with all that is you, disregarding the content on the screen.

he finds his mouth salivating as a quick flash of you hovering above him crosses his mind, suddenly reminding him of the way your weight felt on his face, shaking thighs on either side of his head as his tongue swirled around your folds to savor your taste… thank god, he's under the blankets.

and the sounds you made for him? the sweet sounds you made might very well be responsible for his newfound infatuation. mark catches his bottom lip between his teeth as he tries to remember the way his name slipped off your tongue like velvet-

"mark?"

just like that.

"mark!"

ripped from his daydream and forced to return to reality, mark quickly blinks, eyes snapping to you and widening slightly as he orients himself, "what? sorry i-"

"i asked if this is the guy who was caught with the killer last episode?"

mark gawks at you, a certain amusement or perhaps endearment behind his eyes, be it intentional or not.

it takes him a moment to register your ask because, well, he fully expected you to ask questions because you always ask questions, regardless of what's playing—but for reasons unknown, your little quirk felt particularly familiar today, wholesome even. it's enough to make his heart slightly swell.

"or wait, no! isn't he the one who- why are you looking at me like that?"

he shakes his head softly, unaware of how beguiled he looks, and mutters out "no reason." as his lips press together again, they curve into a little grin.

you raise a brow in confusion, "i know you said not to ask questions, it's just that i wasn't sure if-"

"oh, i don't mind."

as you inspect his face, trying to pick apart what's going on with him, mark's attention starts dwindling once more. why had he never noticed how pretty you are? i mean, he's always thought you were pretty, but something feels so distinctly different now. so, what changed?

for starters, the kiss—no. it wasn't the kiss. he had already doubled back to check if that was the moment that you decided to take a piece of his heart for yourself, and it wasn't. that day, nothing that you did or said solidly implied you might have wanted to be more than friends.

then, there was the time you sat on his face. as exceptional and undeniably revolutionary as that moment was, he wasn't the only one who ate you out, and mark is almost positively sure that he started feeling like this after you deliberately singled him out; something you had done had distinguished him among the other boys and made him feel as though there was a connection between you, more than just the sexual aspects of the bet.

Or, perhaps he's just deluded, searching for any minimal interaction between you that justifies how his ever-waking thought is you. he considered that possibility, also, but it doesn't feel as likely, or at least he sincerely hopes it isn't the case.

so when? when did you make mark lee feel so special that his heart decided to beat wholly for you? it's on the tip of his tongue.

he hasn't uttered a single word in two minutes, despite your burning gaze. "okay, seriously," you sit up, ceasing the playback at once, "what? do i have popcorn in my teeth?"

"no."

"then, what is it?"

baby. that's what it is.

when you called him baby, that's when he started feeling this way.

he's never been keen on pet names, they sounded foreign or misdirected when others would use them on him. but when it came from you? it was heavenly.

ever since you called him that, voice airy and thin as you drowned in the pleasure he gave you, mark had never been the same. moreover, he could not seem to forget a single, minute detail: all three of the boys ate you out, but the only person who you called baby was him.

"why did you call me baby?" he surprises you and himself, the question leaving the safe space of his mind before any consultation is made with his better judgement.

your eyes flicker between his, "what?"

"you called me baby."

quick to object, you lean back, "no i didn't. when?"

"not right now," he shakes his head, "but that day... the day you, uhm- sat on my-"

"oh." in the wake of your realization, your heart begins to wildly leap in your chest.

it's impossible to forget the events of the game night; in fact, any time you're in the same room as any of the boys, you can't help but think of it and wonder if they do, too. often times, the memories follow you even in their absence, at moments where you're alone and randomly dwelling over your exchange with mark.

the two of you cuddling while you were fully naked and in still your post-orgasmic bliss, right before he left to grab you some clothes for the night and offer you his bed, tugging a long a blanket so he could crash on couch for the remainder of the evening...

yes, that exchange. you proceeded to not sleep a wink that night, despite the lingering smell of him on his sweats and sheets that lulled you to comfort.

however, not once since that day had any of you dared to bring it up in conversation, especially as bluntly as mark just had. so, naturally, your cheeks are blossoming, sporting a bright shade of red that is evident even under the tinted blue glow of the tv.

in your shock, you can't tear your eyes away from mark's. you're frozen in place, blinking at him as your brain urges you to spit out any moderately coherent response.

when you finally find your voice, you're a stuttering mess, "well, it's just that, uh- it just felt right, i guess. i mean, why are you asking?"

"because," he pauses, the nerves finally catching up to him, "from the moment that word left your lips, i haven't been able to stop thinking about you."

"mark..."

"please tell me i'm not crazy." he interjects, fearing there's a rejection coming. if he doesn't speak out now, he might never get the chance to, so he continues, using every last bit of courage he has, "i really, really like you," his voice cracks slightly, "but, if you can look at me and tell me that you don't think about me the way i think about you, i'll never bring it up again. we can forget this all happened,"

you've been staring at him the entire time but somehow, you failed to notice the way he had inched closer at some point during his confession. when you don't pull away or immediately refuse his feelings, he starts to lean in, letting his eyes freely travel down to your lips. very carefully, he reaches up to hold your face, wary that a single wrong move could rob him of the virtue that is tasting your lips again.

little does he know that not one single fiber of your being intends to interject or stop him. when your eyes flutter closed, giving him silent permission, he presses his mouth to yours gently.

god, if you thought the first kiss you shared with him was slow and torturous, nothing could have prepared you for this one.

tenderly and gingerly, mark moves his mouth against yours, finally free of any distractions or time constraints. his fingers disappear into your hairline as he rotates his head to revel in the feeling of your warm, plump lips finally grazing his.

with no hesitation, you reciprocate his affection, sinking into the warmth of his touch. it's as exhilarating as ever to kiss him, even with the slight awkwardness that radiates off of both of you.

at first, he's modest about using his tongue, but it soon swipes against you a few too many times, pleading for entry. his eagerness becomes increasingly evident when he delivers a slight but sharp tug at your hair that causes your lips to part and his tongue to freely swipe at yours.

fuck, everything he does is so hot, and you're suddenly bursting with the need to get closer to him in any way possible.

without breaking the kiss, you reach to move the popcorn to the bedside table behind you, hoping it doesn't fall although you can't be bothered to care if it does. slowly, you move to straddle him, the skin at your waist heating up under the contact of his guiding hands that place you right over his lap.

by now, there's a growing arousal between your legs, made so much more apparent when his hardened cock brushes against your cunt and you feel how cold your wetness is, pressed flush against you. it doesn't help that he's feeding breathy whimpers into your mouth.

unintentionally, you whine out the pet name in return, and he pulls away for the first time, checking if he heard you correctly. baby: four letters and he instantly feels his heart rattle against his ribs.

"holy shit, say it again."

"fuck, baby, please."

"please what?" his eyes stare into yours—deeply, attentively, like an unbreakable trance—he's hanging on your every word, disposable to fill any demand.

with a soft batting of your eyes, you mutter, “kiss me,”

he doesn't need you to ask twice; a guttural growl leaves his throat and mark dives back in to capture your lips, bucking up to rub his erection into you. with a seemingly insatiable hunger, your hands start busily exploring his chest and shoulders, clawing at his shirt running through his hair, grabbing everything you can reach. your fingers slide up from the expanse of his shoulders to his locks, where they settle, allowing you to pull him even closer.

in this moment, mark is thinking about absolutely nothing and everything all at once. turns out, he didn’t imagine your affection, it was really there the entire time. his mind is racing; he thinks about how the swell of your breasts feel against pressed against his chest, how your tongue licks his teeth and wets his lips, meanwhile you're grinding yourself down to feel more of him— sure, you two were already on the same page about one thing, but there’s still an issue at hand, an issue that won't leave his mind even with all the wonderful things distracting it.

when the air is beginning to run short in his lungs, he pulls away again, chest heaving. leaving his forehead pressed to yours, he mumbles out a question that makes you instantly dizzy.

"do you wanna do this?"

you quickly nod, but the weight of his question isn’t clear.

"no, like, do you want to do this,” he emphasizes what he means with an index finger that points between you and his implication clicks. the sigh the breezes past your lips makes his shoulder’s immediately tense up. mark fears he may have completely ruined the moment. that is, until you answer.

"i think so," you nod slowly, taking him by surprise. a small smile sits on your lips, thumb coming up to swipe his cheekbone affectionately. he leans into your touch as you continue, "we can talk about-"

"-no, because there's no way that you actually think the earth is flat." distantly, a set of voices are heard, along with the sound of the apartment door closing. the first belongs to jeno, obvious despite the way it's muffled.

"i'm just saying, bro, there's a possibility."

"you're actually an idiot, donghyuck, oh my god," their footsteps are rapidly approaching, heading straight towards you.

"watch, i bet you mark agrees that-"

you and mark don't have time to scramble off of each other before his bedroom door swings opens with a thud. simultaneously, you both turn to face the boys who skid their heels to a stop, taking in the scene before them.

hyuck's eyes widen, but he masks his shock by simply striding inside and letting his hands sit at his hips, "woah, what did we just interrupt?" his tone is mocking and accusatory, and jeno rolls his eyes.

"oh, we were just-" you finish climbing off of mark, nervously brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

the boy looks between the two of you and the tv, nodding in understanding, "netflix and chilling?'"

jeno shakes his head, "i don't think they got to the chilling part, hyuck."

"then it looks like we got here just in time. got room for two more?" he scoffs playfully, wiggling his eyebrows at his own lewd comment that more than likely, isn't a joke. at your silence, the youngest boy sits at the edge of the bed, ready to state his case.

"i know how that sounds," he sputters quickly before you or mark can object, "but seriously, think about it: it’ll be full circle! we started with the kiss, then i proved i'm the best at head, and now we can- ow!"

you've lost count of the amount of times jeno has had to smack him over the head recently. "what hyuck is trying to say," he explains, "is that he's a horny fuck who can't keep it in his pants. come on, bro,"

mark snorts, slightly amused at the situation. he can tell you're a little flustered from being caught, even more from being proposed such an offer. he knows hyuck can be quite relentless.

the boy in question shrugs off the hand that jeno placed on his shoulder to pull him away, stubbornly whining out, "you're telling me you're not even a little bit curious about what it's like to fuck all of us at once? think about it, princess. we'll be at your disposal, again."

no because when you put it like that...

fuck, fuck, fuck.

how do you always find yourself back in the same situation? in fact, why are you even considering this?

your first instinct is to turn around and look at mark, since you're not entirely convinced that after tonight's confession he'll be jumping at the chance to share you. the two of you are stuck between friends and something more, as a result of the boys interrupting before you could continue your conversation. still, there's no denying what you feel for him.

it's not any less true that your panties are soaked and ruined at the mere idea of having all of them in palm of your hand, competing to pleasure you for the third time. even so, your decision remains an easy one: if mark isn't okay with this, then you aren't either.

you want to prove to him that you're serious about him, not blatantly disregard him and agree to hook up with his friends right after he told you about his feelings.

when your eyes land on him, however, whatever resistance you're expecting to see is nowhere to be found. mark's slumped posture implies he's completely relaxed, and he's looking back at you through a low-lidded gaze.

“what do you think?” you ask him timidly.

“is this something you wanna do?” he no longer refrains from touching you in front of the boys, letting his hand reassuringly slide under your shirt and the tips of his fingers rub circles on your lower back.

shuddering under his touch, you blink, “is it alright with you?”

the fact that you’re even checking with him reinforces that you really do like him. it boosts his ego, gives him a certain sense of ownership over you. now, he knows that if he told you he wanted you all for himself, you'd be his without a second thought.

surprisingly, there's a lack of jealousy bubbling in his chest; the idea of you bouncing on his best friends' dicks doesn't bother him. if anything, it pushes him to fuck you even better.

if they can make you moan, he'll make you scream.

"if you want to, i don't mind doing this one more time," his lips curl up to small smile, "but it's the last time."

when you turn back around, hyuck can't seem to contain his bubbling excitement. laughter rumbles in his chest, a devious expression taking over his features.

even jeno, who originally wasn't as persistent with the idea, is taking long steps over so that he can quickly come up to stand beside where you sit. it's not in his nature to overstep boundaries or even push them, and you've noticed he always seems more apprehensive when things escalated to this point. weirdly though, despite his initial shyness, he always seems to surprise you.

unlike mark and hyuck, he wears a bit of a nervous smile, but you can still see the outline of him in his pants where he grows harder and harder.

you shake your head, laughing breathlessly, "you're all crazy."

"maybe. but if that pussy feels half as good as it tastes..." hyuck trails off, licking his lips, "what do you say, princess?" he leans closer until he's slightly hovering above you, propping himself up on his hands. he's not shy about the way he gawks at your lips with unfaltering focus, waiting for them to mold and utter a yes.

so you give him exactly what he wants.

between your legs, your clit throbs, and you don't know it, but the innocent, doe-like look in your eyes makes the precum leak angrily from his tip.

the word has barely left your lips before hyuck leans in, pressing his lips to yours roughly. the first thing you notice is that it's so different from your recent kiss with mark. hyuck has always been greedy with his affection, that much you know, but it's made painfully obvious in the way he kisses you now—it's like he's in a frenzy, edged on by how hard you make him, furiously turned on and desperate to sink himself in your folds.

you were so busy molding your mouth into his that you almost missed the sensation of all their hands on your body, each with a different placement and intention. one of hyuck's hands made its way between your legs, palm pressing into your clit while the other grabbed his own erection to grope it over his jeans.

on your left, jeno comes in, rolling your shirt up so that your boobs are exposed, nipples boldening when the cool breeze hits them. his thumbs flick the buds distractedly.

mark groans quietly from behind you, squeezing the skin on your ass and thighs between his fingers before running his hands up and down your spine. he sits up to remove your shirt.

you and hyuck break the kiss for a moment as the material comes up and over your head, and he takes the opportunity to remove his own shirt, but before he can dive back into the sanction of your lips, jeno's grip on your throat turns you to him.

he lets his mouth brush over yours, a thumb tugging your jaw down. you're practically panting in his face, and you may have otherwise been embarrassed if he didn't look to be so absorbed.

"i'll try to be gentle, but every time we end up back here," his breath is hot, "i get the urge to ruin you."

indeed it seems that he plans to surprise you this time around, too.

there is such intense fervor and impatience burning though your veins right now, and his provocative words aren't helping. you want to be devoured right now, to have your clothes ripped off so that you can be used.

he casts his gaze all over your features, "speak up. what's running through that pretty little head of yours?"

you speak with the absence of shame, letting the need drip off your lips, "i want you to make me feel good,"

"you're so fucking hot, fuck," he praises, voice resembling a growl. an involuntary whine escapes your throat, perhaps out of frustration because he's still teasing you with a kiss, or maybe pleasure, since hyuck's hand is still rubbing into your core, setting you aflame with want.

or, it's could very well be because behind you, mark's hot tongue has started sliding across your skin, over your shoulder and into that sweet spot where your collarbone meets your neck.

"alright," mark breathes the words into your skin, pulling you slightly toward him, "i go first."

hyuck is quick to object, getting up on his knees, "why should you get to go first?"

"i don't know if you recall," the clanking of his belt being unbuckled makes you drool, "but you two interrupted us,"

"wait," you insist. mark looks at you expectantly, pausing his movements, "let me,"

something about the way his eyes flutter, softening as he watches your fingers inch closer to the waist band of his pants, drives you absolutely mad. it tugs at your heartstrings to see his cheeks so flushed, his features suggesting that he's both taken aback and contented by your sudden initiative.

you're basically crawling over to him now, lowering your face so that you're eye-level with his crotch and your ass is up in the air—don't worry, this new position doesn't go unnoticed by the other boys.

while you busy yourself tugging down his jeans so that they're looped around his upper thighs, jeno mirrors your actions. in less than two seconds, your shorts are slipped down and pooling where your knees meet the mattress, leaving you in only your panties.

when haechan reaches to slide it off, jeno's blocks him, "not yet. look at this," a single finger prods you, swiping down the tiny piece of fabric that covers your folds. he's pointing out the blotch of wetness to the other boy, a darker shade than the rest of the material around it.

mark's eyes are set on you, unmoving, watching the way your comparatively small hand wraps around the shape of him. he had made you feel so good last time, and because you were unable to return the favor then, you felt the need to impress him now—you wanted to see his eyes roll back as he came down your throat.

in an effort to tease him just a bit, your tongue darts out, licking a stripe across the outline of him over the black boxers he's wearing. his pouty lips form an 'o', right hand brushing your hair from your eyes.

"quit teasing and take this off for me, baby."

obediently, the tips of your fingers hook his waistband and pull it down, letting his hardened length spring free. your eyes widen slightly, meeting his, and the first thing you notice is that all of him is pretty. tussled hair, soft eyes, hollowed cheeks that suck in a breath, pink tip that glistens with silky pre-cum.

you waste no time, letting your lips slide against him, tongue collecting every drop of his arousal. as soon as your hand wraps around his base, he lets out a hiss through his teeth.

as much as you'd like to keep your focus, it proves to be slightly difficult, considering the way jeno's fingers are rubbing you, still refusing to discard the last piece of clothing that remains covering you. he's simply spreading your wetness, getting off on the fact that you're so aroused and barely anything has happened yet.

"you like that?" hyuck asks you.

you can only hum, lips wrapped around mark's slit. he hisses again, bucking up at how sensitive he is while your sounds vibrate against him.

"we should prep her," jeno thinks out loud. you clench around nothing at the thought, "how else is she gonna be able to take all three of us?"

"let me take her panties off,"

"no," he simply tugs them to the side, exposing your slit.

hyuck huffs with exasperation, "why?"

"don't you wanna watch her panties get ruined?"

from the silence, you can only assume that he's been convinced. before you know it, one of jeno's long digits is pushing into your entrance. you lift off of mark with a pop, letting out a soft moan.

it's been months since you've had sex, so you're grateful that they've decided to ease you in. you don't know how you would've handled the burning stretch otherwise, especially now that you've seen mark's impressive size.

jeno pumps in and out of you slowly, watching the way his finger becomes coated with your juices. you cry out as he adds another finger, then another.

returning to the task at hand, you replace the thumb rubbing mark's head with your mouth, sinking down as far as you can until he's disappeared past your lips.

"oh, yes, baby, just like that. your throat feels so good," he whimpers, slurring over his words. he didn't know if he was better off grabbing a fistful of the sheets or of your hair so he greedily settles for both. gathering all of your hair with his right hand, mark tugs you up.

when you gasp loudly, he gently coos at you, "breathe, baby. remember to breathe."

you nod, although you're not sure you properly processed the information. the feeling of jeno's three fingers curling in your core and hitting so deep inside of you have your mind a bit preoccupied. mindlessly, your eyes flutter closed.

"look at me, pretty baby."

with a hum, you oblige, blinking at him. your face is pinched in pleasure, your orgasm approaching quickly, but you're determined to pleasure him. you take his cock in your mouth again, cheeks hollowed as you bob up and down, taking care to swirl your tongue long the bottom of his shaft.

"ohh-aah."

you pop up for air once and mark thinks he might get a break, a second to admire the string of saliva that connects his tip and your lips, but you don't give him that liberty, quickly sucking him off again.

it's his turn to gasp now, a low groan rumbling in his throat. when his eyes close, you stop your movements, breathlessly retorting, "look at me, baby" just as he had said to you moments ago.

what were you doing to him...

mark smirks, tongue pressing into his cheek. he only manages to uphold this amused expression for a second, because when your nose bumps against his base again makes his teeth clamp down on his lip.

and when you swallow around him-

he quickly pulls you up by your hair, "don't do that again or i'm gonna come,"

"but baby, i want you to come-"

"no." mark pants, "i wanna be inside of you before i come."

your hand is still pumping him, subconsciously matching the pace jeno has sets with his fingers in your cunt. there's a wet squelching sound from between your legs, and your thighs beginning to shake.

jeno curses, landing a slap on your ass, "fuck, i feel you clenching around my fingers, you're so tight."

what sends you over the edge is a perfect combination of a few different things: jeno maintaining his speed, knuckle deep in you, hyuck taking his thumb to rub circles on your clit, and mark, even when dazed from the way you we're just pleasing with your mouth, holding your face in his hand, a string of encouragements and praises leaving his lips.

"come, baby, please. i wanna see your face as you come."

"oh, shit, shit, shit-i'm-" the pressure in your stomach snaps and cuts you off. your hips instinctively begin to roll back desperately until you're basically grinding yourself into the boys' fingers. for a moment, you cant make any sound, just letting out labored breaths in the midst of your blinding bliss.

but, as you start to come down, you realize the boys haven't let up, and you finally find your voice when the pleasure slips into overstimulation, leaving you a fidgeting, whining mess, clawing at mark's shirt for any way to ground yourself.

he takes your hands into his, admiring the sight of you overwhelmed so early into the night.

jeno draws his fingers back, instantly bringing them to his mouth where he sucks them clean.

"she's ready for you," hyuck smirks, "and you were right," he turns to jeno, gesturing at your underwear and the enlarged stain that keeps spreading as your juices continue slipping out. he uses both hands to spread your ass cheeks, "this was a sight worth waiting for."

mark slides off the edge of the bed, pulling his shirt off in the process. he doesn't bother fully taking off his pants or underwear.

"c'mere"

you scoot closer, bringing your legs together so he can slide your shorts up and toss them aside. then, with no hesitation, mark spreads your legs with both hands, hungrily taking in the sight of your wet and slick core.

there are so many nerves bubbling in your stomach right now. with the way he's staring at your figure, you swear you're about to burst into flames. the tiniest details of his being are absolutely the most mind-blowing. there's a single drop of sweat sliding tentatively down his long torso, lean and defined. his chest keeps rising and falling quickly, and you can tell from the way he looks you up and down that he, just like you, is trying to soak up every last detail of how you look.

he thrusts into his hand a few times before guiding his tip towards your folds where he slides himself between your lips, poking at your bundle of nerves time and time again. he rubs himself into you, teasing incessantly until your back arches and pleads are falling from your mouth.

"please, mark, please.."

he sucks his teeth, "please what?"

"i wanna feel you,"

and he complies, cause he's so lenient when it comes to you. he gives you a small nod that tells you he's satisfied with your response, then slips just the tip in. you had started to moan out but as soon as he pulled himself back, you end up whimpering instead.

"shh, baby, i know, i know," he bends down to kiss the corner of your mouth as your eyes close, pushing himself in again slowly, "i don't wanna hurt you."

after a few more patient thrusts, he bottoms out inside of you. your stomach tightens at the feeling of being full of him, deliciously stretched out and warm.

when you blink your eyes open, you notice that beside you, hyuck has pulled off his jeans and is kneeling in his underwear with his dick out, rubbing himself and spreading his leaked pre-cum over his swollen tip. he's clearly frustrated, cheeks red and bottom lip puffy from biting at it.

jeno hasn't taken his length out yet, but you can't imagine it would take him much longer. the tent in his pants, constrained by the black denim of his jeans, must be killing him.

you reach out to help hyuck and the boy shudders before you've even grasped him in your palm. he's sensitive, crying out quietly for you to give him more. for a second, you consider laughing, the peculiar sounds taking you aback.

hyuck who's normally a smart-mouthed menace is suddenly begging for you to please him?

irony aside, you happily adhere to his pleas, spitting in your hand so that it's easier to slide up and down his length. he’s a mess by the fourth or fifth stroke, leaning his weight back on his palms as he struggles to not blow his load yet, especially with the way jeno squishes and plays with your boobs.

he’s for sure a boob guy, constantly fondling them and tugging on your nipples until you wince. you suspected it since the last time, but it’s rather obvious now.

hyuck is intently watching everything, practically thrusting into you to increase the friction.

between your legs, mark rocks his hips a little harder, enough to graze a spot inside you already so sensitive from jeno’s fingers. you sigh out, reaching for him with your free hand to pull him closer.

when he fucks into your spot again, you clench, making his movements buffer momentarily. “oh, my god.” he sighs out, gripping your waist tightly.

“you’re so deep,” you're drinking up every last moan from him, hyuck, and jeno, the last to unbutton his pants. he releases his dick from the white boxers brief's and as the air hits it, his head falls back. you don’t refrain from marveling at the sight.

as mark moves to push down on your lower stomach, your eyes roll back.

"mark, baby, fuck," truthfully, mark doesn't know what he did in a past life to deserve this. you're sucking him in so tightly, your walls gripping him with no intention to let go. under his palm, he can feel where the head of his cock hits inside you. the layer of sweat on your face makes you look like you're glowing, and your soft hair is fanned out around your face, like that of a halo.

"yeah, you like that?"

you nod breathlessly, breasts bouncing up and down as he pounds into you. the hand that wraps around hyuck’s dick begins to lack consistency as you lose yourself in the feeling of mark in you. desperately, hyuck rushes to place his hand over yours and guide you up and down.

there's a coil about to break within you, your second orgasm hurling toward you with no plan to stop.

you're foggy, dizzy—the only thought in your mind is how intense the ecstasy is, how good you feel in this moment. your walls squeeze tighter and tighter until you announce:

“oh, i'm gonna come-"

"baby," he slows down, speaking softly "not yet."

"what?" you lean up, lids snapping open, "why?" your orgasm is ripped away from you as he pulls out, leaving you writhing and empty. you're left fluttering around nothing, yearning for release.

"i don't wanna tire you out before they have their turn," he looks to jeno and hyuck.

in disbelief, you pout, pulling him closer by his forearms, "but i wanted you to-"

"i will," he kisses you, momentarily calming your mangled cries, "believe me, baby, I wanna come with you. let's let them have a go, yeah?"

you shakily nod, still mourning the feeling of having him filling you up. nonetheless, in an effort to be good for him, you sit up and turn to hyuck, who's been edging himself for the last few minutes.

"fucking finally," he groans, realizing that your gaze trailing down to his cock, tells him it's his turn.

wasting no time, he scoots up to lay down on the bed and up you go to follow him, crawling over so that you're straddling his lap, only a few inches above his throbbing erection.

he urges you to come down and jeno tsks, shaking his head, "both of you are so impatient."

your entrance is already so wet that when your fingers direct his tip there, you’re able to sink right down, both of your heads rolling back at the relief.

"i want you to ride me," hyuck sighs out, gripping your hips to roll you against him. knowing that it would only heighten the experience, you reach for jeno's shoulder, bringing him closer. he's quick to reciprocate, pressing his lips to yours as his hand holds the back of your head. at first, he only rests it there, but as your hips roll faster and the moans start resonating in your throat, he pulls on the strands he grips.

"is this okay?" he murmurs, giving another test tug.

"yes," you breathe out quickly, nodding, "yes, jeno."

you hold yourself up on hyuck's bare chest, nails digging into his skin. he's especially deep inside of you because you're sitting on his lap and every sway of your hips provides your clit with friction as it rubs against his pelvis.

progressively, his and your moans get louder as both of you get sloppier. jeno busies himself by mercilessly fisting your hair, studying the way he can make you gasp out and wince.

mark is droopy-eyed, leaning in to kiss your shoulder blade.

“yes, ride me just like that. fuck, i think you’re close cause you’re-“

“i am close,” you confirm, jaw slack.

“use me, princess. keep using me until you come all over me,”

god, you want to, but the burn in your thighs is becoming unbearable. you slightly whimper “i can’t,” and hyuck starts with pleading with you, begging you to keep going.

“m’so tired, hyuck,”

you’re starting to sweat, legs weakening with every time you try to urge them to move.

hyuck realizes that you are indeed struggling, and he grips your hips tighter.

“it’s okay, i got you,” with an unsteady thrust up, hyuck manages to lift you enough to buck his hips up into you at an impossibly fast pace, chasing his own climax and prepared to deliver yours. within a few seconds, you’re coming again.

jeno tightens the grip on your hair and your high suddenly hits you that much harder—even as you come down, you’re floating, reaching back for mark who whispers sweet nothings into your ear as he drags his lips along your cheek, lazily kissing you.

“oh, shit—i’m gonna-“ hyuck slips out of you, using his hand to stroke himself until he spews his milky white liquid into his stomach, trembling below you.

“do you need a second?” mark wonders, looking over your body that glistens with perspiration. you shake your head, though it’s not very convincing.

“no, i can keep going.”

jeno lightly brushes your hair over your shoulder, his hold on it loosening when your orgasm came to a end. now, he settles for rubbing soothing circles onto your smooth skin.

"i'll be good to you, yeah? i'll take it easy." he assures you, helping you climb off of hyuck who's just barely beginning to regain his composure, dick still twitching where it lays on his stomach.

jeno practically carries you, placing you on the side of the bed that was unoccupied. as mark lightly blows cool air in your face, jeno takes his shirt off, kneeling on the bed so that he's right behind you, your back pressed to his chest. like this, you're sandwiched between both boys, your exhaustion quickly fleeting as you feel their skin against yours.

shaky fingers come up to hold mark's shoulders, and he sweetly kisses you. as you arch your back, you can feel how jeno's hard and potent tip brushes between your folds, teasing your entrance.

even though you're sensitive, you're still dripping with need. your essence is coating your thighs and mark's sheets, and now, jeno's dick, which he slowly seeps in.

you whine into your kiss with mark, breaking apart to lean your head back onto the broad chest against your backside. both pairs of hands are roaming your skin freely, and you're unable to distinguish whose is whose or predict where they'll go next. you settle for savoring every touch and grasp they leave in their wake.

you can tell jeno is reading your body language, interpreting each gasp and reaction you give so that he can speed up when you're ready to take all of him.

"you can go faster," your permission comes out mumbled, but you’re too restless to sit at this speed. he hisses at the way you wiggle around temptingly, walls massaging him. he never thought you’d be so warm and so, so wet. it takes him biting his cheek to not bust right then and there.

bringing a hand down to your ass, he gives you exactly what you want, grunting with each thrust, slamming into you at an angle that makes your breath get caught in your throat.

there are stars swimming on your eyelids from how hard you're squeezing them shut, your hips subconsciously pushing back to meet jeno's with shameless desperation, needing to feel him closer.

everything about the scene is so lewd: the sounds of your skin slapping against each others, the bed creaking rhythmically in accordance with jeno's thrusts, the drops of sweat that slide down his chest and side burns and make him glisten, even in the dim light...

mark begins lowering himself so he can take your nipple into his mouth, tongue swirling and teeth grazing the bud till it darkens and perks up, brings his fingers to your clit to rub you.

your mind is clouded with lust, vision is fuzzy and glazed; it's like something out of a dream. both of your forearms are held behind your back in one of jeno's large hands while the other one wraps around you, holding your neck and tilting your head back so that he can look at you. when he isn't watching your face, admiring the way it contorts in pleasure, he's kissing and sucking the skin on your neck.

and the sounds he makes as he fucks you? otherworldly.

the grunts he's delivering to your ear are delectable and you involuntarily clench around him, yelping out when he sinks his teeth into your shoulder at the way your walls squeeze his cock.

"shit, jeno!" you breathe out when mark lifts his fingers, dipping them into your mouth. when you lick them clean, he places them back where they were, leaving you a shuddering and fidgeting mess. jeno stills his movements, pushing himself as far into you as possible. "oh, god, you're so deep," you mewl.

with a smirk on his face, he slowly starts moving again, spreading your cheeks so he can watch the way his cock sinks into you time and time again, disappearing between your wet folds. just the sight makes him twitch.

"i'm close," he warns, twisting your hair around his wrist and pulling you close to kiss your cheek affectionately. you nod weakly in agreement, leaning into his touch. though you’re unable to utter a single intelligible word in response, a series of quiet whines leave your lips as you sit on the verge of your third orgasm.

"is he fucking you good?"

you nod at mark's question, reaching for his hands again.

"i wanna come on your ass,"

"p-please," your voice must sound no better than pathetic by now.

your stomach churns on cue as mark's speeds up his motion, teasing your throbbing and puffy clit until you find yourself gushing around jeno's dick, walls fluttering from overstimulation. it's well worth all the sensitivity, because you’re coming so hard.

god, and you still have another orgasm awaiting you.

you're suddenly being bent over as jeno puffs and huffs, sliding out of you and working himself until his hot cum covers your ass and back in stripes. he pants loudly, teasing himself until every last drop has been emptied and your covered in his release.

"yup. that was hot. i'll be back, i'm gonna go clean up," hyuck pipes up for the first time in a while, tapping his hand to his stomach to watch how his load sticks to his fingers in webs. he scoots off the bed and leaves, presumably to the bathroom.

"you gonna clean up, too?" mark asks.

jeno shakes his head, still heaving breaths, "nah, not yet." his eyes land on you but mark quickly shakes his head.

"we're gonna wrap it up here, i think," mark explains, holding you up by your waist, "i don't think she can take any more,"

"i can," you stubbornly argue, "mark, you haven't even finished, baby."

between your bodies, his dick is standing as tall as ever, red and inflamed and knocking against your lower stomach. he's undeniably rock hard, and you'll be damned if you don't get to watch the look on his face when he orgasms.

"it's okay. i can take care of it myself. you-"

you lean in to kiss his jaw, cutting his words short. when he stops talking, you bring your lips to his ear, you whisper, "i want you to come inside of me,"

his eyes widen, and you catch the way his cheeks get red when you lean back. his reaction makes your heart beat faster, and you reach to hold his face.

"are you sure?" the shock dwindles into concern again.

"if i was too tired," you peck his lips, "i would tell you. i'm sure that i want this." he grins softly, scooping you up by your thighs to lay you on the bed, diving on top of you and situating himself between your legs. he's still kneeling, and in order to kiss you, he has to lean over, lips landing on yours with so much delicacy that it takes your hand on the back of his head for him to sense that you want more.

your other hand reaches to grab his length, slowly pumping it. as you run it up and down, his breathing changes and he moves to kiss down your chest. effortlessly, mark picks you up again by your hips so that your head is the only part of you still resting on the bed.

you're so filled with desire that you moan even before he touches you. he doesn't make you wait long, though, wasting no time and guiding himself to your entrance, sopping wet and ready for him. as he directs your hips closer, you help tilt his tip down. finally, he's inside of you again with a shiver and the sexiest drawn out groan, stuffing you full.

his jaw tightens instantly at the pressure of you squeezing around him, and when he speaks, it's through gritted teeth, "you're so wet," he moves with caution since you're still hypersensitive, "and after how many times you've been fucked tonight, you're still so fucking tight. shit, i can feel you sucking me in."

slowly but surely, he starts picking up the pace, working you until sweat droplets are sliding down the side of his face.

he's fucking into you so mindfully, making sure that he pulls out enough to see most of his head, then pushing in so far that you're flush against the base of him, jolting up when he hits a spot that's particularly deep.

every time that you cry out his name, his eyes flash up to yours, taking in your fucked out expression. your hair is a mess, makeup running just a bit. all of your features are scrunched up, mouth open and panting, and currently. you're holding a hand over your mouth, the other placed over his where it meets your hip.

damn, he could come at the sight of you like this.

and he does.

he's filling you up in more ways than one now, spilling into your cunt, grip tightening enough to leave bruises along your waist. he realizes in this moment that after today, there's no way he's not pussy-whipped by you.

how could he not be, when you were taking him so well? when you asked him to come inside of you?

he also realizes that you still haven't finished and his thrusts are beginning to stutter. voice strained, mark chokes out, "aah, shit. are you-?"

"just a little more, baby, please," your words are muffled by the hand on your mouth but he gets the message nonetheless, grimacing at the overstimulation of keeping up such a speed now that he's so sensitive. he keeps going, because he has to help his baby ride out her high.

your fingers dig into the sheets as your orgasm hits you, waves of pleasure flushing through your core. your face is red hot, vision blurred, cunt booming with a pleasure so intense, nothing like you've ever felt before. a mix of your wetness and mark's cum is coating his cock now, making a ring at the base of it and spreading all throughout his length. when he'[s sure you're done, he cautiously pulls out, watching as his seed leaks out of you.

"that was-," he pauses—inexplicable, heavenly, incredible, mind-blowing—"there's no word that even comes close."

when you look over, jeno had come a second time, the sticky white substance all over his hand and thighs. he resembled both of you, breathing heavily. you take in the sight of him through your lashes, shoulders are rising and falling, hair sticking to his forehead.

the bedroom door opens about half way, and hyuck pokes his head in, "i could hear all of you from the bathroom on the other side of the apartment. it was impressive, really. oh, and sincerely, i feel envious of your future boyfriend. that dude's gonna luck out." you can feel everyone's eyes on you, face getting red, "i'm gonna knock out. thank you for that, yeah?"

"yeah," you reply, offering a bit of an awkward laugh.

mark kisses your forehead and lips before getting up, pulling his underwear and pants up. he walks over to his drawer to grab a change of clothes for you as jeno gets up, too, dressing himself.

he gives you a nod, "stay here, okay? i'm gonna grab something to clean you up with."

it wasn’t like you really could move anyway, at least not yet. your thighs were burning, and if you tried to get up, your wobbly legs would give out.

as jeno leaves, mark brings over a folded shirt and a pair of boxers for you to wear, setting them on the night stand.

“i’m gonna shower,” you lean up on your elbows, flashing him a tired smile. mark brushes your hair behind your ear, nodding.

“you wanna stay over, pretty?"

"i'd love to."

"good. wait for me, i'll be right back."

when he clicks open the bedroom door to leave, jeno is on the other side. he was about to reach for the handle. as mark shimmies out, the boy walks in, a warm, moist towel clutched in his hand.

you laugh as he shields his eyes, coughing awkwardly. "sorry, uh-is it okay if i-"

"jen, you're acting as if you didn't just fuck me. you've seen me naked twice now."

he lets out a little snicker, casting his eyes over you softly. when you reach for the towel, he shakes his head, "here, let me. can you sit up for me?" you do as he asks and he gets closer, "you have some- let me get that for you," trailing off, jeno holds your face as he gently wipes away the black smudges from your under-eyes.

you're simply looking up at him, but for some reason, when he meets your gaze, his ears go red. he really hopes you don't notice.

in an effort to hide how flustered he is, jeno moves away, going around the bed. you let out a little squeak, shivering when he starts wiping away some of the stickiness from your thighs and ass where he relieved himself earlier. then, he moves to the front, wiping between your legs with hesitance.

"why are you so nervous?"

he instantly tenses up, stilling his eyes on the bed instead of on you, "huh?"

"you're all... shy. i don't know. it just seems like after we do..." you look around, trying to find the right word, "well, this—you're a completely different person."

"oh," he looks like he wants the earth to swallow him, and you slightly pout at his reaction. maybe you shouldn't have said anything.

"you know what, forget i brought it up." you sigh gently, "it's not a bad thing, i swear, it's just... i don't want this to affect our friendship."

"it already has." he mutters defeatedly. as he finishes wiping you off, you take mark's old shirt, throwing it over your head so that you're not completely nude. his statement doesn't slip your mind, though. not at all.

"what? what do you mean?"

"the reason i get nervous," he starts, but it takes him too long to continue and you're interrupting him again, kneeling up and tugging him to sit beside you on the edge of the bed.

"if you didn't wanna do this, you could've said something, jen. i'm sorry if this made you uncomfortable or-"

"no, no. it's not that. like, genuinely, it's so far from that." he laughs lightly, finally finding your eyes. you immediately relax at the sound that rumbles from his chest.

"so, tell me." you shrug.

for a few seconds, jeno tries to organize his thoughts, but his efforts are futile. he can't remember a single time he didn't wish he could tell you what’s been on his mind. in fact, for the last six months, it's been the first thing that's popped into his head when the two of you entered the same room.

fuck, man. no matter how many times he's rehearsed the same speech, it's not any easier—especially not now. you look as pretty as ever, and it doesn't help that he's made you come around his tongue, fingers and cock-

spit it out, jeno.

"i like you."

if you were expecting to feel any bit of relief, think again.

the burden that was meant to be lifted is now immediately heavy on your shoulders, and you're convinced your face has gone entirely pale.

"i've liked for as long as i can remember. and it was easy to ignore at first, until the day we kissed.” his eyes fall to the ground, “for a while, i was so mad at hyuck because i didn't want to put myself through that if i knew i wouldn't be able to have you. b-but even then, i thought ‘i might be able to forget. it was a ten second kiss that was for a bet, you know?’"

oh, god. your heart beats so loud that for a second, you think he'll hear it.

"but then, after the night we were drinking after today... after today, i don't think i’ll ever be able to forget." his hand is paced over yours as he gulps, "i was even gonna ask if you wanted to stay in my room, but i know you and mark are close and i chickened out. i think-" he takes a breath, "i think i'm in lo-"

the door creaks open and mark walks in. saved by the fucking bell. "okay, i've got you some water, a towel, and i brought the sheets so that-"

before you can even open your mouth, jeno gets up awkwardly, slightly disappointed, too. he coughs, cutting mark off. "we'll talk later, yeah?" he walks past him without sparing either of you a second glace, consumed by embarrassment and leaving you to call after him.

"yeah, o-okay." you shout, but he doesn't acknowledge it.

no, no, no. there's absolutely no way that just happened.

guilt bubbles thickly in your throat, burning bitterly as your breathing picks up.

"baby?"

you need to go home. you can’t stay here, that much is obvious. moving to get up, your heels hit the floor and you clumsily stumble, mark reaching with his free hand to hold you up.

"woah," he waits for you to stand steadily, then turns, putting down the things he brought in on the dresser before taking long strides to return over to you. his hands rest on the back of your arms. "you're probably sore, yeah? do you want to- hey, hey." he notices the puddles beginning to pool under your eyes, "what's wrong? does something hurt?"

"no, it's-" you let out a shaky breath, reluctantly meeting his eyes, "it just sucks to be right."

"what are you talking about, babe?"

"stop calling me that." you shake your head. at once, mark's face falls—it absolutely crumbles, and so does your heart.

he mutters your name lowly, leaning so that he's at eye-level with you. with a heavy heart, you brush away his hands, wiggling out of his embrace and moving to grab your clothes that scatter the floor. he doesn't move to stop you, yet.

beyond confused, mark just watches you gather your things; his breath is caught in his throat, meanwhile his brain racks to piece together a single reason or cause for your behavior. he’s drawing blanks, though. everything was going so well.

after a few seconds of standing in the same spot, he speaks up, a hand reaching for your shoulder.

"can we talk about what happened? you just-"

“mark, nothing can happen between us.”

dumbfounded, he reaches out to stop you dead in your tracks this time, "what? why?" his eyes are narrowed, eyebrows pinched.

"it's too complicated,"

"no it's not. i like you, you like me. what's complicated about that? is it because of what we all just did? because i don't care about that, i told you it was okay and i meant it-"

“no, mark you don’t get it—“

“then tell me so that i can understand why-“

"jeno just told me that he had feelings for me!” it didn’t matter that you were whisper-shouting. the words carried enough trouble on their own without needing any volume to make them any clearer or alert the man of the hour, whose room was right down the hall.

you decided to keep his much more serious confession to yourself, the one where he almost professed his love. mark didn't need to know about that. it didn't matter now, anyway.

at your statement, his persistent rambling ceases.

"what?"

"while you were gone, he told me. so nothing can happen between us, and that's that."

he shakes his head in disbelief, tightening his hold around you when you attempt to break away again, "i'll talk to him. i'll explain that you and i are already-"

"no, you won't, and no, we're not, mark. drop it." you escape his grasp which weakens at your harsh proclamation. without a second thought or any elaboration, you’re sliding your shorts up your legs. hurriedly, you begin to travel the room, collecting your phone from the night stand, slipping your shoes on, and putting in your bag your previously discarded clothes and undergarments.

"baby, you're giving up on us before we've even begun,"

fucking damn it.

you halt your packing, turning to glare at him, though there isn’t much anger. it’s hurt that reads instead, reflecting the one in his own stare. "how would you feel if i started going out with jeno?"

"what? so now you wanna go out with jen-"

you roll your eyes, rephrasing. "no. i'm asking: how would you feel if i started going out with jeno?"

begrudgingly, he grumbles, "terrible," under his breath.

"precisely."

maybe you indulged yourself too much. you always knew that if any of you caught feelings, things would get complicated.

jesus, you didn't think it would actually fucking happen.

if you even suspected this was a possibility, why did you let it get this far?

all of your belongings are gathered. your hair is tied back and your keys are in hand. your mind is racing, but there's not much you can do to help that now.

before mark can utter another word, you cast him one last, sad glance, and walk out the door.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

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crowdedimagines · 9 months ago

Text

Roadkill - Aaron Hotchner Imagine

Based around the season 4 episode 23 titled Roadkill! I am going through a rewatch right now and just watched this one!! Also I am trying to stick to the storyline of the episode, but obviously things will be a little different in how they play out 🤩 3.6K

"How do you feel about Oregon?" JJ asks immediately after I pick up on the third ring.

"I have a feeling I would like Oregon a lot more when it isn't 3:00a.m." I tease, sitting up in bed, already knowing whatever she's calling for is going to be bad enough to to call us in this early.

"Can you be in to the office to brief in an hour? Wheels are up around 4:30."

"I'll be there!"

We both get off the phone so we can pack our go bags and get the day started, although earlier for both of us then intended. I manage to take a fast shower by the time I get out my phone is ringing again, this time it's unit leader Aaron Hotchner.

"I assume you've been informed that we have a case and we're meeting shortly." Hotch has his stern, yet tired voice on.

"Yep, showered squeaky clean. I just need some coffee and I will be on my way!" I smile, wringing out the moisture that's still in my hair and put the phone on speaker to set it down on the bathroom counter.

"I actually just made too much, I'm on my way in now. I could bring you coffee." He offers.

I pause in my actions, surprised by the offer. Although I would've been a lot more shocked a couple weeks ago. When I started with the team Hotch was going through a divorce, but in recent weeks there's been a shift in our dynamic and I'm not sure I'm dreaming it up. It all started a couple weeks back when I dropped off some baked goods after a rare long weekend away from work for him and Jack since it was his weekend to have him. They invited me to stay and I spent the rest of the afternoon with the boys. By the end of the night I was calling him by his first name instead of 'Hotch' which was a new development. Ever since it's been small gestures and looks that tell me something is different.

I've been a part of the BAU for a couple years, growing in confidence and skill the more cases I get under my belt. I spent four years in the military as a designated marksman before continuing my training with the FBI, which lead me to the Counterterrorism Division, and then to the BAU.

"That sounds great actually." I grin. Bringing me coffee to work is another new thing. Aaron has been chattier, smiling more, but coffee is a new ball park.

"Alright, I will be in around twenty. Drive safe."

I mutter back a "you too" before we both hang up. As I make my way into the office I'm the first to reach the bullpen, I came a little early once I knew Aaron was going to be in. A traveling mug is sitting on my desk and I take a long sip. It's still hot, and it's exactly how I always make it. It's also the traveling mug he almost always can be seen with. I set my bag down by my desk before climbing up the stairs to Aaron's office.

"Good morning." I knock lightly on his open door, "Thank you for this. It's perfect."

He looks up from the folder in front of him and the frown leaves his face.

"I'm glad."

I take a seat in one of the chairs across from his desk. It'll be fifteen minutes before the rest of the team joins us. Hotch begins to fill me in on some of the details without going too much into it. We still have to brief as a team.

"I don't think I've ever heard of a vehicle being used as the weapon." I surmise.

"It's highly rare. I've never seen a case likely this first hand." Aaron admits and we discuss a few more aspects of the case.

Eventually the rest of the team trickles in and after some light conversation I go back to my desk. Garcia comes in stomping directly to my desk.

"What's up?" I ask.

"Kevin is looking into a working a secret job and I wont even know where he'll be!" She gushes.

"Slow down, he what?" I spin around in my chair. Garcia fills me in on the details of the job and exactly what he had said to her. The worry on her face is permanent.

"Don't worry yet. He hasn't gotten the job, and if he's offered, you don't even know if he'll take it! Lets just wait to worry once we have something to worry about."

Penelope nods agreeing with my words before moving onto Morgan's desk to do the same and I smile and shake my head. JJ pulls us all into the conference room.

"An unsub that kills with his car." Emily states, "I haven't seen that before."

"Neither have the police in Bend, Oregon." JJ replies, displaying pictures on the screen in front of us.

"Two victims in the last twelve days." Hotch adds, "First was hit on a morning jog and the second was a woman stranded after her car broke down."

"Both female victims, but completely different age groups." I speak up, "The first victim was 23 and the second was 43."

"Maybe they aren't connected." Morgan thinks out loud.

JJ pulls up more pictures and explains that both victims were backed over after they were hit. No chance of accident and the same tread marks at both scenes.

"With where these wounds are, the worst of the blow is high on the bodies." I comment looking through the file, "It has to be a truck or SUV to match these wound patterns."

"See if Garcia can follow that. Try tracking makes and models." Aaron directs.

"There should be significant front end damage to the vehicle." Spencer chimes in.

"Unless our unsub is smart enough and skilled enough to cover his tracks." I begin, "Somehow I don't think it'll be as easy as finding a damaged truck."

It's a five hour flight from DC all the way to Bend but thankfully it gives us all the opportunity to rest up again. By the time we land we can go straight to the police station.

"I think it's safe to say our unsub is male." I read over the case file, thinking out loud with Aaron. This is something new too, we often brainstorm together and work well to get the other thinking outside the box.

"I agree." Hotch nods, "Given what we know about aggressive driving and road rage."

"And the fact that men have an unnatural bond with their cars." Emily laughs. JJ chimes in to agree, which turns into Morgan disagreeing before Rossi is also adding to it.

"I think he has to be overcompensating. Why else have a need for a truck that big." I guess.

"Possibly." Spencer comments, "If the unsub is physically defective the car not only gives the power and control he otherwise lacks, but it also serves as a shield."

"A way for him to avoid physical contact?" Hotch asks.

"He wants power and control of his victims." Prentiss shutters, "Female victims. It almost reads like an assault profile."

"I wanna know why he isn't getting personal with it then. If this is how he assaults women, what if there's something that prevents him from going a more traditional route. It's possible he's disabled." I suggest.

Hotch tells Garcia to look into it to see if anything recent could be a trigger and to look at the people surrounding the victims. Morgan and Rossi head to the highway to get a feel for it and see what they can get from it from the second victim's scene. Hotch and I head to where the jogger was hit.

"Not a lot of people jog here. It's a physically demanding hike." The sheriff informs gesturing to the trail.

"Well, she was a triathlete." I remind.

"The assailant drove behind her and ran her down right here." The sheriff walks us in to where the red stained gravel remains.

"She was jogging alone? Any woman would know if a car was following her up the trail. Her intuition would've been driving her crazy. She would get off the trail or call for help."

"What if he was already here waiting." Hotch agrees, taking in the scene, "What if she was the reason he was here and it wasn't random. He was waiting for her specifically."

"That would mean we underestimated him. It wasn't a random attack, it was planned and vindictive.

The team meets back at the station to go over what we've discovered. The second victim's husband comes in and recalls seeing a large black truck parked by their house giving us something. This confirms that he's targeting and stalking specific individuals.

"Ready be done for the night?" Aaron asks, he peeks his head into the conference room that only I occupy at this point. The rest of the team has already gone to the hotel to call it a night, but Aaron was still talking with the husband and I was just pouring over people in the area that raised some of Garcia's flags based on what we know so far.

"I suppose." I close the file I had been reading and rub at my eyes.

"It'll still be there tomorrow." He reminds.

"I know, the sooner the better though." That's something I don't need to remind him on. We both know it all too well. With an unsub this aggressive we know he isn't stopping anytime soon.

The drive to the hotel is short and comfortably quiet. Neither Aaron or myself have the energy to discuss anything as we're going on a fifteen hour day.

"Goodnight, Y/n." Aaron carried my bag in from the car to the foot of my bed in my room, even with multiple reassurances that I could carry it just fine. I give him a soft knowing smile before he leaves for his own room.

The next morning it's discovered that the unsub sabotaged the second victims car in order to strand them. He's very focused and well planned.

"We need to figure out why he's picking these women." Hotch states, "What makes them a target and links them together."

"Road rage, maybe they cut him off at some point?" I question, "Also how does he have the time to stalking these women to know their routines, sabotage a car, park and wait."

"Roughly eight percent of the United States is unemployed." Reid rattles off.

"Including someone who could be disabled and lives off of a pension." I remind from my earlier guess."

"Have Garcia look into it." Hotch states before walking away and I smile.

"Pretty girl is on top of it this case." Morgan teases with a smirk.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I roll my eyes.

"Maybe it's something to do with her getting the case early and going over it with Hotch before our team briefing." Reid says with his nose already in a new file. I can feel my face turn a shade of red.

"Pretty girl is getting extra credit!" Prentiss joins in happy to tease, even adopting Morgan's typical nickname for me and Penelope.

"I don't know what you guys are talking about. I simply got in early and we were both at the office." I take a sip of my coffee, looking for any distraction, reaching out to grab a file for myself to ready through. I'm really glad that I didn't bring Hotch's travel mug in from the hotel, I still have it and I almost used it today. That definitely wouldn't go unnoticed with the people surrounding me.

Thankfully the team lets us move on and were able to brainstorm some more. Unfortunately it doesn't take long for JJ to interrupt to tell us there's been a third victim.

"Impact nearly cut him in two." The sheriff explains.

"Male victim?" I question as we arrive on the scene. The unsub hit him in a parking garage, pinning him between the truck and elevator doors. "He's getting more aggressive."

Cigarettes butts are discovered where the truck was parked in waiting. All of them stripped of the filter showing signs that he's military.

"Guys I think I know what ties the victims together." Reid interrupts, "All of the victims drove two door red coupes."

Garcia was able to look into car accidents that left someone injured enough to the point that he can't kill traditionally. He holds the person responsible for his accident for killing his loved one and his own disability. There's nearly twenty five people to still filter out off of the specifications we gave her.

"Wait you guys I think I found it." I sit up from the most recent file that had red flags, "Ian and Sheila Coakley crashed while driving home from Napa Valley on route 7 around midnight. It appeared their car was run off the road. His wife died at the scene."

"And Ian?" Rossi asks.

"He survived although he suffered a spinal cord injury."

Morgan and Prentiss go to his doctor to verify some information while we try to track down Ian. His house foreclosed after the accident.

"Track the parts for his specific truck. He's been doing his own repairs so they have to be sent somewhere." Rossi suggests to Garcia.

"Rossi gets a gold star!" Garcia sings, "He's having the parts drop shipped, I'm sending you guys the address."

"Hey, what do I get for knowing he would be disabled?" I jest, I called that from the plane.

"Nothing but my love, sugar." Garcia says before hanging up.

"I don't have a gold star, but well done Y/Ln." Aaron nods.

Arriving at the home Ian had been renting we find it empty but lots of surveillance photos of the victims and one other person who hasn't been harmed.

"Send this to Garcia now, we need to know who this is." Rossi hands me the picture. I send it to her and she's able to run his plate from the image.

It doesn't take her long to find him and contact his home, where she finds out that he's out biking with a group doing a thirty mile loop.

"Y/n, you're with me. We'll take the north side, Morgan and Rossi you start south and we'll meet in the middle." I quickly get in the passenger side of the SUV and Aaron takes off.

The biking club that target is in covers a lot of milage as Aaron speeds through the dirt road trying so hard to meet the group before the unsub does. Eventually we're closing in, but unfortunately the black truck is ahead of us and gaining on the bikers faster than we're gaining on him.

"Hold on." Aaron takes a risk by cutting Ian off before he can clip the mass of bicyclists. He does this by driving the front left corner of our car into the back right of his truck.

The airbags go off and were spun around from the impact.

"Y/n." Aaron calls. He says it a second time with more panic when I don't answer.

"I'm okay." I groan. The unsub is attempting to back his truck out of the ditch we're both stuck in to finish his mission. He took a much less impactful hit from our collision. I unclip my seatbelt and swing open my door, shattered glass falling from my lap as I stand up.

"Y/n, wait." Aaron instructs, he pulls hard on his seatbelt. It seems like he's stuck from the accident, but the worry on his face is only for me. I give him a look to say I've got this, while he continues to pull at his jammed seatbelt.

"Ian Coakley." I call out, and the man looks over to me briefly. It registers on his face that I am holding my gun and it's aimed for him, he has tears in his eyes.

"This is for Sheila." he floors it heading straight for the group that's waiting after witnessing the accident.

I plant my feet and aim for the back window of the truck, hoping to hit Ian's shoulder. Enough to stop him in his tracks before can harm anyone else without killing him. I've done enough killing myself over the years, and even with all he's done he's a man suffering with the grief of accidentally killing his wife.

The bullet leaves my gun with a loud crack, shattering the back window of the truck. He swerves but not enough to take him off the road. I let out a breath and fire again, this time sending a bullet into the back of his chair and sending his car off the road again to be stopped by a tree. I let out a huff of exhaustion from the impact leaning against the SUV.

Morgan and Rossi pull up and stop to get out and help Aaron and I after seeing our totaled SUV.

"Go" I wave them to keep driving to the unsub to see if he's ok and they do. Aaron manages to get out of the car finally, I hear Morgan call out to radio in an ambulance.

"He's still alive." Rossi shouts to us referring to Ian, they have him laying down now while applying pressure to his wound. The top of his shoulder which shouldn't be fatal, I sigh in relief.

"Are you okay?" Aaron asks finally rounding the back of the car to join me where I stand, he steadies himself. I nod, finally putting my gun away, feeling how stiff my body is.

Aaron fully ignores my nod, taking my head in his hands and pulling my eyelid open to check for signs of a brain bleed. He wipes at my forehead, pulling back his hand with blood on it. Maybe we were hit harder than I thought. Damn airbags.

"I think you have a concussion-" He states, "and you might need stitches."

The worry on his face is deep. I can feel the guilt radiating off of him, he was the one driving. He's the one that chose to hit the unsub's truck.

"I'm okay!" I reassure him, placing my hands on top of his that still rest on my head. This is crossing a new line. He's never touched my face, and I've never touched his hands like this.

"I shouldn't have done that. It was reckless."

"I'm glad you did." I disagree, "If we had waited any longer he would've been able to get his last victim. There's an entire biking club alive right now because of you."

This reminder seems to help slightly, he looks over my shoulder where the crowd remains. I pull him in for a hug, both of us shaking slightly from the adrenaline. After a while we pull apart, the rest of the team arrives as well as a couple ambulances. One takes Ian away immediately, escorted with two police officers as well.

"It took two shots? You're losing your touch." Morgan teases, thowing an arm around my shoulder that makes me wince a little. My phenomenal aim has always been a touchy subject with him, not liking being second.

"I'm concussed and he was driving fast." I defend, fully knowing how whiny I sound.

"Statically of our entire team Y/n would be the only one likely to have made that shot with the variable speed that Ian Croakley was traveling at." Spencer chimes in.

"I knew you were my favorite for a reason." I grin pulling Spence in for a hug effectively shaking off Morgan's arm.

"Yeah, whatever." Morgan shrugs, ruffling the hair in top of Spencer's head.

"Ma'am, you really need to get looked at." The emt reminds, interrupting our conversation. I leave the group and look over to see Aaron sitting on the back of one of the ambulances. We both finish getting evaluated, thankfully nothing too serious that we have to delay our flight home.

"You were right about the concussion." I grin walking up to Aaron as the sheriff walks off.

"And it would seem the stitches too." He reaches out again, thumb hovering over the threading sticking out of my forehead.

"Yeah, should make fore a pretty badass scar." I tease.

"I'm sure it will." He smiles, a real smile. The Aaron smile that I have seen so rarely, but more frequent lately. The plane ride back home is quiet, everyone drained, Aaron and I just flat out sore. By the time we get back to the BAU, Aaron sends everyone home saying the paperwork can wait for the following day. Everyone clears out and he goes back up to his office.

"Not following your own advice?"I question, walking into his office. I make my way round to his side of the desk and lean back on it. The edge of my thigh just barely meeting the outside of his arm from where he sits.

"Just wrapping up a few things before." He sets down his papers, his eyes raking all the way up me from toe to head, we both pretend I don't notice.

"You know, since I have a concussion they said I need to be under observation. No sleeping, crazy delusions, slipping into comas that sort of thing. You know anyone who wants to stay awake with me?"

"I can think of someone" He smirks, "I can put on a pot of coffee."

I pull out the to go mug he had brought my coffee in a few days ago out of my tote and hold it out to him.

"Take me home Aaron."

AHHHHHHHH i hope yall like this! i haven't written in forever to it was honestly just fun to do! :)

#criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n

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inkareds · 5 months ago

Text

To Someone from A Warm Climate

Rhaenyra Targaryen (F! Reader)

8/10 - Unreal Unearth Event

nav // event masterlist // hotd m.list // ko-fi

✧.* word count: 6.1k ✧.* genre: GAYYYY GAY GAY GAY ✧.* warnings: irrelevant ass warning, I wrote this when I was sick at 2am on a fuck ton of stomach medicine! It is unedited and I don't know how it looks! I refuse to re-read it! Also female reader and like it kinda ooc for the Stark family and stuff.

"A joy, hard learned in winter was the warming of your bed // In summer's heat, I learned to dread, the comin' of the night"

What's better than a comforting friend in the cold?

Also quick info just in case people don't know: Rickon Stark and Gilliane Glover are Cregan's parents, Rickon has a brother named Bennard Stark who had 3 sons, Benjen, Brandon, and Elric.

(ps I have not watched the new episodes so I don't know how they handled Cregan and Jacaerys there)

“You seem cold, princess.” Rhaenyra quickly turned her head around at the voice.

You politely bow when she meets your gaze.

“Alas, it seems the north’s climate is not for me.” She answers as you smile at her words.

“It rarely is for people from the south.” Walking closer to her you introduce yourself. “Lord Bennard’s youngest bastard.”

Rhaenyra’s face morphed into that of a confused wonder at your brazen statement.

“I did not see you when Lord Rickon introduced his house, Lady Snow-”

“I am neither a lady nor part of the great House Stark, addressing me by my first name is enough, princess.”

Rhaenyra chuckled as you moved closer towards her. Truth be told, you didn’t think you’d be received as warmly as you are now by Rhaenyra.

You had heard of the news that the princess would conduct her tour to find a suitor across Westeros a while ago. Of course, it would take ages before she arrived in Winterfell, but now that she was here it felt surreal.

Just a few hours ago you were able to sneak around The Great Keep within Winterfell Castle to be able to see the princess’ first introductions towards your family. Lord Rickon Stark, your uncle, introduced himself and his younger brother, your father, Bennard Stark, as well as his sons, your half-brothers, Benjen, Brandon, and Elric Stark. Being a bastard, you weren’t allowed to attend this formal event, though that didn’t mean you couldn’t spy on them.

The princess was radiant, despite her long travels, she was still able to keep her head held high and regality was clear in the way she spoke. Though the Lady Stark, Gilliane Glover warned you on approaching the princess, fearing what your father’s punishment to you would be, you couldn’t help yourself.

So now you find yourself here, side by side next to the princess, talking as carelessly as you usually would.

“Where are your knights, princess? I didn’t expect you to walk around unattended.” You looked around not seeing any guards around her, including the tall one who seemed to follow her around everywhere.

“I sent them away, for the time being, I’d like to enjoy the snow alone.”

She smiled at you as you understood what she meant, nodding and taking a few steps back you spoke, “Ah, I see, forgive me then. I shall leave you to your devices.”

That was when she laughed, a sound so melodic you now understood why they called her the Realm’s Delight.

“Apologies, I do not mean you, I mean alone away from men. After my long tour, I bore at the sight of many of them tripping over themselves trying to win my favour.” Hearing that you picked yourself back up and placed yourself back by her side.

“I do not blame them, if I were a Lord from a noble house, I would swear my land, blood, and soul for you.” From the corner of your eye, you see the young princess open her mouth ever so slightly to say something, before looking back out into the falling snow.

“Are you enjoying the summer snow, Your Highness?”

“Summer?” Rhaenyra sputtered, “I’m afraid it is far too cold for summer.”

She turned towards you with an expression of disbelief, but you only laughed and stepped out from the shade over you into the snow. Rhaenyra watched as the light snow trickled onto your many furs and hair, all the while you reached out to grab some on your naked hand.

“Would you mind taking off one of your gloves, Your Highness?”

Confused but intrigued, Rhaenyra took off her glove on her right hand, as you placed some of the snowflakes on her open palm. Holding her hand in both of yours so that she wouldn’t be too cold without the glove you began explaining.

“The North is cold, far too cold for any real summers that I’m sure you experience. But when winter comes, the snowflakes will be sharper and harder to the touch.” Rhaenyra lightly crushed the snowflakes in her hands, feeling them melt almost immediately. “Summer snow, on the other side, is softer and wetter. It melts the moment your body heat touches it. And it only happens in the morning such as now. By noon, all the snow will be gone and the farmers will start tending to their crops.”

Rhaenyra intently listened as you explained. She was far too young last she went to The North, all she remembered was the everlasting cold the entire time she was there with her father and late mother. How she used to pout as a mere toddler due to the chill.

Thinking back on it a shiver ran through her. You took notice of this and immediately wiped the melted snow from the princess’ hands and urged her to quickly use her glove again.

“I mustn't keep forgetting how cold Southerners get this far North. If you will allow me, princess, I know a place in The Great Keep where it should be warmer, while simultaneously allowing you to still enjoy the view.”

You had expected Rhaenyra to politely decline your invitation, you’d been acting far too forward with her and you wondered when you’d be reminded of the difference in your status. But, surprising you, and herself, Rhaenyra agreed, her want for warmth overpowering her duties. Knowing right now she should be returning to her chambers and readying herself for a feast with the Starks.

But she couldn’t help herself be led by the bastard girl with too few sugar-coated words. You led her through mazes of hallways you grew up in, looking to your side now and again to watch Rhaenyra wonder at the sheer size of Winterfell. The castle was big, you knew that much, and from what little Gilliane Glover was able to teach you behind your father’s back, you heard it was almost three times bigger than the Red Keep where the princess resided.

When you finally reached where you wanted the air was much warmer than it had been and it had stopped snowing.

“Touch the walls,” you instructed the princess as you gracefully leaned on one.

Rhaenyra reached to touch the cobblestone walls, it was surprisingly warm to the touch, almost hot in certain parts. Despite where they are, a simple hallway which opens to the outside. The view was breathtaking. A large tree was in sight and plants flourished on the ground. Colourful wildflowers of all shades of blue, purple, and pink decorated the landscape.

“How can the wildflowers grow here?” She asked.

“Do you see over there? The smoke?” you pointed out not so far out, and truth be told there was some billowing smoke. “Those are the springs which Winterfell is built around. I can’t take you there as a lot of servants and maids are there to care for it. But it is the warmest place in all of the north. The waters there are then distributed through pipes all within the walls to warm the castle.”

Seeing the way Rhaenyra kept listening, you continued, rather happy to have someone to talk to other than maids or servants twice your age.

“This area of the castle is where most of the main pipes converge, that’s why it’s the warmest. Aside from the solar and the Starks’ bed chambers.”

“It is still awfully cold.” Rhaenyra muses, though with the way she grinned you suspected she was just jesting. So, you chuckled.

“I guess, I wouldn’t know. The cold is all I ever known.” You spoke with a smile, staring out into the plants swaying lightly against the wind.

Hearing this, the young princess looked at you with her brows furrowed.

“Have you not left the North? Surely you must, as Lord Bennard’s daughter I assumed you are well traveled.”

You shook your head, biting the inside of your cheek, wondering how to explain your predicament to the princess without souring the mood.

“I assume you think this way because I’m living here rather than discarded like most bastards are?” Rhaenyra’s silence was telling, “Lady Gilliane Glover was the one who took me in after she found out of my existence. I assume she wanted another lady in the castle, considering she has no child of her own and my father has all sons.”

You fiddled with your fingers out of general nerves. You did not want to sadden the princess or make her uncomfortable with your sob story. You’ve accepted it, but it seems anyone you’ve told it to have been pitiful about it.

“Despite my father’s wishes, she took me in.” You told her honestly. “I have no titles nor duties, I’m simply here to accompany the lady.”

You finally lifted your head to smile at Rhaenyra. Truth be told, you wondered at times what would happen to you once the lady passes or once she has a child of her own. Alas, what happens in the future will stay a mystery until it comes.

Feeling the silence to be slowly stifling, you broke the sullen atmosphere.

“But I wouldn’t know where to go even if I had the chance to travel. What do you recommend princess? Where do you like to go? I’m sure you’ve been on a lot of adventures on your great dragon.”

At the mention of Syrax, a soft smile crept its way onto Rhaenyra’s expression. Causing your heart to skip a beat.

“Dragonstone.” she stated without much thought. “It overlooks the sea, you could hear the waves crash against stone as you slumber, it is comforting.”

Before you can ask further about Dragonstone, her ancestral seat, Lady Giliane Glover rushes into the area.

“Your Highness, I didn’t expect to find you here.” She quickly bowed before her gaze met towards you.

You bashfully avoid her questioning gaze, knowing you’re up for an earful once she gets you alone. Lady Gilliane had always reminded you to keep your head low, afraid that you may invoke your father’s anger and get banished from the castle walls. But oftentimes, you couldn’t help yourself. After all, it wasn’t your fault your half-brothers, though older, were dumber and much more susceptible to pranks.

“Excuse me, I was looking for my niece, it seems I should’ve known she was bothering you.” Gilliane spoke softly, giving an apologetic smile towards the princess.

To which Rhaenyra shook her head, looking between the two of you she realises the time. Despite her annoyance over having to be seated with three potential suitors, all sons of Bennard Stark, she must fulfil her duty.

“Nonsense, she was showing me around, the castle is far too large and I found myself at a lost on how to go to where I wanted.”

“Of course! I should have appointed one of ours to accompany you.”

Rhaenyra went silent for a little bit, briefly looking beside her at you, not that you noticed, your gaze sticking only at Gilliane’s.

“Right, I must return to my chambers now. I wish to rest before the feast.”

Gilliane nodded and motioned for one of her guards to lead the princess towards her room. When they were out of earshot that’s when she placed her attention on you.

“You just couldn’t help yourself can you?” Though her words were sharp, her tone was light and kind.

“Apologies, my lady. The princess looked lonely.”

She sighed as a response, bringing her fingers to the bridge of her nose, shaking her head ever so slightly.

“What will I do with you, dear child.” She chuckled as she grasped your hand in hers.

The older woman smiled at you. You’ve always known she had a soft spot for you, but every day you were still grateful for her kindness. As the two of you walked, Gilliane leaned in towards you.

“I hope you are as kind to my child as you are to the princess.”

Your eyes widened, “You are expecting, my lady?!”

Gilliane grinned widely and patted your head.

“I am, a son I feel, though we will only know for sure when the babe comes. But when they do, I hope you will care for them as I have cared for you. I have a feeling your half-brothers will not be as welcoming.”

Hearing the news you nodded to her. That day a silent oath was spoken in your mind. To repay all of Lady Gilliane Glover’s kindness, you’ll make sure to protect her child no matter what.

Unfortunately for you, despite your best efforts, you were not able to talk to Rhaenyra for the entirety of her visit to Winterfell. At Lord Rickon Stark’s insistence, Rhaenyra always had a maid, servant, or knight with her throughout the day to guide her and give her a tour of Winterfell as a whole.

Because of this, the princess hadn’t had a single moment alone except when she slept. Considering how Bennard Stark had warned you the day after he heard the news that you were speaking to the princess unattended, you didn’t want people to see you talking to the princess, afraid of the consequences to her reputation.

After all, she shouldn’t be seen talking carelessly to a thrown-away bastard such as yourself.

Nonetheless, you still came across her quite often. Having no real duties except accompanying Lady Gilliane who was now quite busy with dealing with the royal guest in her home. You roamed around the castle mindlessly more often than not. So you ran across the princess a lot as well.

Every time you did see her, she looked quite tired and lonely. At times you wondered if she was getting enough sleep, if her room was too cold for her.

“You know, I heard the princess was fond of lace,” Lady Gilliane suddenly spoke.

The two of you were currently in the library taking a well-deserved break, well, well-deserved on Lady Gilliane’s part. Your head quirked in confusion at her sudden statement. You had been so engrossed in your book about Dragonstone that you hadn’t been paying attention to the lady.

“Is that so, my lady?” You questioned.

You looked up from your book at her who was currently in her book. One about fairytales, you wondered if she was memorising them for when her babe would arrive.

“Yes, and I have also heard that you finished your lace handkerchief recently.”

Your eyes widened at the sight of Lady Gilliane’s knowing grin.

“That, I have, my lady.” You mused to yourself, standing up from where you were seated, “If you will excuse me, I remembered I promised Elric that I’d watch his archery practice.”

Even you rolled your rolled your eyes the moment the excuse came out of your mouth. Lady Gilliane stifled a chuckle at the obvious lie.

“Right, wouldn’t want to make your half-brother wait, I’m glad the two of you are getting along well.” Sarcasm was laced strongly in her statement.

That was how you found yourself currently inside Rhaenyra’s room, waiting for her to finish another feast with the Starks, fiddling with the lace handkerchief in your hands. Tonight would be the last night Rhaenyra Targaryen would be staying in the North. After days of conversing with your family and meeting other suitable suitors within the area, she will finally go back South to continue her tour tomorrow morning.

This would be the last time you’d be able to speak with the princess.

You quickly stood up from where you were sitting when the heavy doors opened. In came a weary-looking princess, whose whole demeanour froze up when she saw you. You froze for a moment as well, seeing her, heat filling your body at the realisation that she could easily have you banished from Winterfell if she thought you were overstepping.

But you swallowed the lump in your throat and decided to go for it. After all, what can a bastard lose?

“My princess, apologies, I knew I wouldn’t have been able to speak with you in the company of my uncle’s men or your own men. So I thought it would be best to wait in your chambers. I wanted to give you this,” you sputtered, wanting to make your point before Rhaenyra called for the guards to kick you out of her chambers.

Rhaenyra’s silence caused anxiety to bubble up within you, as you walked towards her to hand her the handkerchief. Truth be told, it wasn’t a functional handkerchief, as such was the properties of lace, sheer and delicate. But you had created it in the shape of one, so you called it one.

She picked up the delicate white lace from your hands, your fingers briefly brushing against one another causing sparks to flow from your fingertips into your heart. Was the princess always this beautiful?

Rhaenyra observed the design, letting her dainty hands caress the intricate patterns and craftsmanship. It was far from perfect and definitely far from the quality of lace professional lacemakers in King’s Landing would create for her dresses. Yet, she couldn’t help but feel a tightening feeling in her heart the more she caressed the fabric.

“I had only wanted to practice my craftsmanship, but when I finished it reminded me of you.”

The design was that of a flower, one that Rhaenyra did not recognise.

“What flower is this?”

“Snowdrop, my lady, it is a flower that grows in the cold. They look quite delicate and soft but are one of the hardiest and strongest flowers I know. They also symbolise hope.” You explained quickly, hands behind your back fidgeting against the stitching of your dress.

Rhaenyra looked closer at the lace.

“Hope,” she slowly looked up at you and smiled.

A dazzling one, one that would buckle your knees and make you melt to the ground as if you were hit with Dorne’s heat.

“I-” she started holding the lace, “I’ll treasure it, thank you.”

Hearing her heartfelt statement brought a bright smile to your face. Quickly followed by a rush of heat. The princess seems to have a flustering effect on you.

When silence followed suit, you nodded to yourself and were just about to walk past the princess to leave, feeling awkward now that you didn’t know what else to say. But mimicking the first time you met, Rhaenyra stopped you again.

“It’s cold.” She suddenly stated.

You quirked your head to the side slightly at the confusing sudden statement.

“I can ask the servants to bring more firewood to your fireplace if you’d like.”

Rhaenyra shook her head, taking a few steps closer to you.

“I don’t think that’ll be much help. I’m asking if you’d like to stay here for the night, I feel as though it is loneliness that’s causing a chill in my bones. It would bring me comfort to have a friend accompany my last night in this foreign land.”

Immediately you were thankful for the darkness, aside from the large fireplace which warmed the room, you were both in. Considering your expression at her question probably exposed your flustered interior. After a short pause to recollect yourself. You smiled warmly at the princess.

“My father did tell me to make sure the Targaryens are well cared for. I would be distraught if you slept cold on your last night here.”

With a giggle, Rhaenyra quickly grabbed your hand and headed straight to in front of the fireplace. That night the two of you spoke like old friends. Though at first, you baulked at the casualness of which you were speaking to someone of a much higher class than you were. You were quickly charmed by Rhaenyra’s friendly nature.

Though you did not know it, your company had brought more comfort to Rhaenyra than you could ever imagine. The bone-chilling loneliness she’d been experiencing due to the loss of her friend Alicent, had brought much grief to her. The ease with which your conversation flowed as you both joked and jested with one another reminded her of an easier time.

As the night went deeper, the two of you found yourselves in bed. It reminded you of the first few times you had been brought into the castle, confused and lost at how a common beggar such as yourself could suddenly be brought into the castle where you seldom sleep. That is until Lady Gilliane caught wind of it and slept in your bedchambers with you until you got used to the noble life.

Though, of course, the stakes were slightly different this time. Although the way your heart was hammering against your chest was quite similar, you guessed the reasoning for it was different. Back then, it was the nervousness of feeling unworthy of the attention of a noble. This time, it was nervousness from something else. Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on just yet.

But now as you stared into Rhaenyra’s eyes, both of you lay on her bed on your sides you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“You remind me of snow, princess.”

Rhaenyra’s brows quirked in a way you found positively adorable.

“Soft and beautiful but with the ability to be harsh and strong. The colour of your hair helps with the imagery as well.” You added the last bit to lighten the mood of your statement a little bit.

Something that seemed to work as the princess grinned.

“You remind me of a wolf.” She stated, “Strong and resilient, yet loyal and intelligent. Equally as beautiful as well.”

She whispered the last part.

A comforting silence then befalls between the two of you. You couldn’t help but get lost in the princess’ eyes. They were so full of life, that you wondered what it would look like in any other times. What did Princess Rhaenyra look like when she was elated? When she’s entertained? When she’s sad? Angry? Terrified? In love?

You guessed she must look beautiful no matter what. The image in your mind pushed your hand to move not according to your own volition. You brought one of your hands to the princess’ cheek, caressing her soft skin under your fingertips ever so slightly.

Rhaenyra’s lips parted in shock, though she did not pull back, quite the contrary. She leaned closer to your face. Without thinking twice, you closed the distance between you, your lips shyly touching her own. Rhaenyra reciprocated as shyly. A chaste kiss was shared before you jolted backwards.

Quickly sitting up, you covered your mouth in shock. What have you done?

“Princess! I’m sorry– I– I overstep. I forget myself. My deepest apologies–” You muttered nonsensically before fully standing up on the floor and rushing towards the doors.

Leaving Rhaenyra silent and shocked on the bed. Her fingers touch her lips ever so slightly at the soft touch of your lips. Remembering the short moment, a small smile crept onto her face, though you were now halfway on your way back to your room. Mortified and terrified for the morning.

When morning did end up coming, you did not expect to be woken up by some maids. Usually, both your father and the reigning Lord Rickon Stark left you on your own. Choosing to forget about your existence. This led to you dealing with your own empty schedule yourself, as Lady Gilliane was usually only free at noon or afternoons anyway. Which were the times she would want you to accompany her.

You’d usually make your way to the kitchens to have breakfast or an early lunch with the other maids, eating whatever food they provided for you.

But this time, maids quickly came into your room and went to wake you. Surprising you. They quickly drew a bath and fussed over your appearance. Before you could properly regain your thoughts and get a concise answer on why they were treating you as one of the Starks, you were already pushed out of your chambers and led outside.

When you saw the crowd from afar, that was when you realised something. You were going to be with your family to bid Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen farewell. How mortifying!

Finally being led to your side of the family, you stood beside your youngest half-brother Elric Stark who glared at you. In the corner of your vision, you see Lady Gilliane look over towards you, clueing you on who set up the entire thing.

Not too long after a myriad of armed guards left the building and behind them followed the princess.

She looked radiant, her hair in intricate braids which reminded you of the drawings of Visenya you’ve seen in books. Her dress was layered with coats upon coats of fur, clearly preferring to wear more outer layers than making sure her dress was thick enough, likely to make the changing climates as she leaves the north easier to deal with.

As customs dictate, she thanks Lord Rickon Stark and Lady Gilliane Glover for their hospitality. She then respectfully regarded your father and your half-brothers. You kept your head held high but avoided her gaze as she walked towards her carriage.

Right before she reached there, she stopped in front of you. With nowhere else to look you looked at the princess.

“I thank you for your company, it was a pleasure meeting you.” She grasped your hand in hers and you felt her discretely hand you something. “I wish to take you to Dragonstone if time allows it. I shall request you to be one of my ladies-in-waiting formally later on once I have reached King’s Landing.”

Your eyes widened at her statement. The offer wasn’t an offer given to bastards such as yourself. They were given to daughters of second-rated houses so that they may learn under a daughter of a higher house. Not someone like you who belongs to no house.

“I am honoured at your offer, princess, I pray for your safe travels.” You bowed your head as Rhaenyra nodded and made her way towards the carriage.

You brought your hand to your back, hiding the item she handed to you discretely.

You would later find out after the entire ordeal was over, that she had handed you a necklace of hers. It was a simple yet intricate necklace, one made of silver chain which held a trinket shaped like a three-headed dragon. You held the gesture close to your heart, thanking the old gods and the new that she did not push away your advancements.

Lady Gilliane could only chuckle as she heard you tell what happened in Rhaenyra’s chambers. Though you did omit the details about the kiss.

In the year that followed, Cregan Stark was born, two years after, your lady would give the realm another Stark heir. Though it was then the animosity between Lord Bennard as well as his sons, your half-brothers, and Cregan.

You had assumed they thought the Winterfell seat would fall onto them, considering Lord Rickon Stark was old and had not had an heir yet. That was until Cregan and his younger brother.

Seeing this, you did everything you could to protect the two of them from your father’s selfishness, knowing firsthand what his scheming was like. It got even worse at the birth of Sara Snow and Cregan’s insistence on keeping his little sister in his life.

It wouldn’t be long after that when Lord Rickon Stark would travel to King’s Landing to pledge loyalty to Rhaenyra as heir to the throne. A part of you wished you could come with him, you wanted to see what Rhaenyra was like now. But another part of you knew you needed to stay in Winterfell and protect Lord Rickon’s children in his absence.

When the time came and Lord Rickon passed, followed by Lady Gilliane and their youngest child, Cregan was far too young to rule. You could only watch in the background as your father took the seat until Cregan was of age. Though when he finally did, your father slowed to give the seat.

You could feel tensions rise between them, tensions which could easily bleed into bloodshed. Though you had no sympathy nor love for any of your half-brothers or your father. You did not wish for their deaths, after all, they were family, whether you liked it or not.

So, you came to Cregan with a proposition. Your help to get his seat back without unnecessary bloodshed which could tear Winterfell into two, in return for a seat in his council. It need not be official if he did not want Lords of different lands to wonder why a woman was counselling him. You just wanted him to make use of your mind and the ease that came with being a bastard who had no need to uphold a family name.

He was quick to accept your proposition, having no reason to distrust you after the years you’ve spent together. The events which followed came in quick succession afterwards. You betrayed your father and half-brother, imprisoned them, and were quick to name Cregan Stark the Lord of Winterfell. In return, he officially gave you a spot in his council.

Your life became quite different after that. With your new duties and responsibilities, you were quick to drown yourself in work and books. Filling your mind with knowledge and anything that may help your cousin in dealing with the tumultuous land that is the North.

You had barely any time to think about Rhaenyra or anything considering the politics of King’s Landing, leaving that to Cregan as he left the inner workings of Winterfell to you.

That is, until a dragon arrives in Winterfell.

“Who is it?” You quickly asked Cregan, who despite his much younger age than you, had grown taller and stronger than you.

“I assume either Aegon asking us to place our loyalty on him or one of Queen Rhaenyra’s sons.” You grinned.

“You called her queen,” you stated Cregan’s words, who rolled his eyes, “I only hope it is not Aegon, if it is, I think we’ll have quite the sour visit.”

Though your words were light, a part of you hoped it was one of Rhaenyra’s sons. At this point, you hadn’t seen her for too many years and a small hopeful part of you yearned to meet her once more. Or at the very least, see a semblance of her in the shape of her son.

As Cregan wanted to greet the guest alone you excused yourself and returned to your work. There was no point in hoping for something that may not be true. But as you grabbed a piece of paper detailing the current stocks of wheat, your eyes dragged onto an ornate box neatly kept beside your bed.

Where it has been for decades.

Gritting your teeth and wondering if you should, your heart went against your mind and you stood from your table to reach for it. Holding the black and red box in your hands you, once again, debated on opening it. In the beginning, you would open the box and observe its content almost every day after you woke up and just before you slept.

Now the box had stayed closed after Lord Rickon’s passing, considering you had to focus on Cregan and not your own silly fantasies.

But today, you couldn’t help yourself. Your fingers danced on the latch before opening the box, within it a single object lays flat. The necklace was as beautiful as the day you received it. The dragons looking at you with its menacing eyes. You caressed it with a smile, reminiscing about a simpler time.

You closed it back once you’ve wasted enough time and went back to your work.

It was late at night once you finished your calculations. As always you brought your findings to Cregan’s study, it was late at night, you assumed he must’ve already finished his talks with the guest and had ushered whoever it was to rest.

It brought you great surprise to open the doors of his study only to find him laughing with said guest. A bottle of expensive Dornish wine opened and drained of its contents on the table beside them. Seeing his dark curls, you assumed the young man in front of you now was Jacaerys Velaryon. Rhaenyra’s son. And not Aegon.

Hearing the door open, Cregan was quick to look at who would dare enter without announcing themselves. Only immediately relaxing when he saw that it was you. With a smile he stood from where he sat, Jacaerys quickly followed suit.

“This woman here is my advisor. She is my half-cousin, though I consider her almost like a sister.” He explained after introducing your name.

“My lords, apologies for interrupting, I had brought the crop stocks you had asked for early this morning.” You motioned towards the papers you were currently holding.

Cregan was quick to sober, he took the papers as you handed and placed them in a neat pile on his table.

“Thank you, I will look through them as soon as I can-”

“You are her.” Both you and Cregan snapped your head towards Jacaerys’ voice, confused at his coded statement. Realising his mistake, Jacaerys shook his head, “Apologies, I meant that I did not expect you to match exactly the descriptions my mother told to me.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, and so did Cregan’s.

“Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, my mother, had asked me to relay a message to you if I were to find you. You are the Lady Snow, yes?”

At the question, you stifled a chuckle, a sense of deja vu at your first meeting with Rhaenyra hitting you once again.

“I am not a lady but yes, I suppose I am, unless you are referencing to Sara.”

“No– My mother wanted to extend an invitation to you.” Cregan now stood straighter at Jacaerys words, brows furrowing.

You gently placed a hand on his arm, silently willing him to relax. Unfortunately for him, you had never told him about your quick friendship with Rhaenyra. So you assumed he thought Jacaerys’ statement sounded rather dangerous.

“She said she wanted to honour her promise that she made years ago about taking you to Dragonstone.”

Your eyes, along with Cregan’s, widened like plates.

“What?” Cregan was the first to break the sudden silence. Though you were quick to hold his arm, signing silently to him that it wasn’t anything threatening. Despite the odd way Jacaerys speaking.

“I’m–” you awkwardly chuckled, “I’ll be frank– I can’t believe she still remembered that. I– I have too much work here, summer is about to end and winter is coming. Perhaps,” you fiddled with your fingers your mind working in double time, “Perhaps, I’ll take up on your offer once this war is over. I trust my cousin followed the oath the late Lord Rickon made when swearing Princess Rhaenyra as heir?”

Jacaerys and Cregan looked at each other for a bit before nodding, “Indeed I have.”

You nodded and turned, “Then I shall take my leave.”

“I’ll accompany you back to your bedchambers, dear cousin.” Cregan, ever the protective person, was quick to state.

With a nod, you both turned to walk out the door, before you remembered something. Considering Cregan’s busy schedule and your own, you didn’t know when would be the last time you’d see Jacaerys. So you quickly went over towards him, taking off the necklace around your neck and handing it to him.

“When you leave, I’d like for you to give this to the Queen, as a token of my gratitude.” You smiled and returned to where Cregan was once Jacaerys nodded and pocketed the necklace.

Cregan watched with furrowed brows as the two of you walked away.

“Why would you give him that? You’ve worn that necklace for as long as I remembered.” He asked once the two of you were out of earshot.

“Do you recall ever seeing the pendant at the middle of the necklace?”

He scoffed.

“Never, you always wore it backwards.”

“Precisely, I only want the princess to see the engravings.”

Before Cregan could ask you to elaborate you had returned to your room.

Amid chaos and tragedy, Rhaenyra lay on her bed alone. After sending Daemon off to deal with an army north of Dragonstone on Caraxes, she could hardly sleep thinking about the atrocities both she and Aegon had done. Blood was spilt on both sides of the coin now that the war was deep in the works.

It felt like just yesterday that her dearest Lucerys had been killed by Aemond. When in reality it had been months pass now.

Her hand mindlessly grabbed at the necklace on her bedside table. The shivering cold silver grounded her to reality. It reminded her of the North and its cold. But when she turned the pendant around. A wry smile crept onto her features.

There engraved in the pendant was the carving of a wolf, surrounded with snowdrops.

Holding the pendant tight in the palm of her hands, she swore to win the war, take her rightful place as Queen, and finally fulfil her promise to you.

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