#lean-to conservatories

[kglazing]

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[quirkle2]

Just thinking about the Slime Rancher AU. Just thinking about Ledge taking care of Wars while he's recovering because he's super worried about him. Maybe there's some guilt for not being with Wars the entire time?

oh 100%. the entire family is constantly there for wars and taking care of him while he's bedridden, but legend almost never leaves his side. even when wars is in and out from illness at first and only able to form basic syllables, legend is There and playing with his hair and shushing him and telling him everything will be alright

in the quiet hours of the night when everybody else is asleep and legend is left to listen to wars' shallow breaths and the hum of electronics inside the walls, he ends up spiraling a lot. going over the incident again and again, regretting straying from wars for even a second, thinking about how wars was nearly killed and could Still die in his sleep just because legend saw some moondew nectar in the distance that hadn't rotted yet. at some point when wars is awake legend apologizes to him, but wars just stares at him through the haze of fever and doesn't understand a fucking word and legend has to leave the room for a minute to keep from crying

they all lose sleep over the incident, but legend and fig are the ones who lose the most. fig gets up in the middle of the night a lot to see legend still awake, watching wars' chest rise n fall and massaging the unscarred skin around his hands. fig Knows it's not gonna convince ledge to go to sleep anytime soon, so he usually sits with him and lets him cry if he needs to. fig can See the guilt in his eyes and he's told him time and time again it was not his fault, but legend doesn't seem to believe him

i think legend prolly formally apologizes to wars again, when he's no longer bedridden and instead able to at least walk outside a bit. wars looks at him like he's got two heads when he says it, like it's crazy, like it's nuts, and wars tells him he has never once even thought of pinning the blame on legend. because it wasn't his fault. wars is just grateful that legend came to save him so quickly, he says, and he says it with a big smile that shoves that big rainbow scar to the side

and then legend cries GVYEIAV

[conservatoryvillage]

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[securestyle]

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[outsideinterests123]

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[ahqkas]

Hii! I love ur writing sm could I get blurbs of the batboys on their wedding day with a gn reader? Tysm if you choose to write this 🙏🙏

♯YOU’RE THE ONLY GOOD THING IN MY LIFE

— gn!reader, mention of reader’s hair in dick’s blurb, i recommend listening to HIM ( for example )

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

BRUCE WAYNE

THE GRAND BUILDING of wayne manor seemed even more striking today, bathed in the golden light of an early morning sun. the sprawling estate had been prepared for the occasion, elegant floral arrangements lining the grounds, their soft fragrance mingling with the crisp air. despite the planning, the day felt intimate, almost sacred—a rare glimpse into the man behind gotham’s most famous name.

bruce wayne stood in front of the floor-length mirror in his suite, adjusting the cuffs of his perfectly tailored black suit. the tie was already straight, the jacket fitted to perfection, but his hands lingered. a rare sign of nerves. alfred, standing a few paces away, gave him a knowing look, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips.

“you’re fidgeting, master wayne,” alfred pointed out gently, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. “i don’t believe i’ve ever seen you this unsettled.”

bruce paused, exhaling slowly as he dropped his hands to his sides. “it’s not nerves,” he said, though the slight quirk of his brow betrayed him. “it’s . . . anticipation.”

“ah, of course,” the butler replied, stepping forward to adjust bruce’s pocket square with practiced precision. “a monumental day, indeed. though, if i may say so, [name] already endured countless dinners with the board of wayne enterprises and spent more time in the batcave than i ever expected of anyone not wearing a cape. i daresay they’re ready for this.”

the bat man chuckled softly, shaking his head. “i know they are. it’s me i’m worried about. for once, it feels like i can’t afford to get it wrong, alfred.”

alfred’s gaze softened, and he rested a reassuring hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “if there’s one thing you’ve gotten right, master wayne, it’s them.”

bruce’s lips pressed into a small, grateful smile, but before he could respond, the door creaked open, and dick peeked his head in. “hey, it’s almost time,” he said, grinning as he took in bruce’s uncharacteristically pensive demeanor. “you ready?”

the main man of the day glanced at the mirror one last time before nodding, his confidence returning with each step toward the life he was about to solidify.

DICK GRAYSON

THE SUN WAS beginning to set over the city, casting golden hues across the skyline as the ceremony transitioned into the reception. the rooftop of the gotham conservatory had been transformed into a romantic haven, strings of fairy lights crisscrossing above, glowing softly like fireflies. the gentle hum of conversation and clinking glasses mixed with the distant sounds of the city below, but dick’s focus was entirely on you.

you stood a few feet away, talking animatedly with barbara gordon, your laughter ringing out like music to his ears. dick found himself frozen, his heart stumbling in his chest upon the sight of you. you looked stunning, of course, but it wasn’t just that. it was the way you smiled, the way you held yourself, the way you seemed to brighten the space around you.

you were glowing.

this was it. this was his life now—your life now. together ( forever ) .

he shook himself out of his reverie as barbara caught his eye and shot him a knowing look before excusing herself politely from your conversation. you turned toward him, your smile softening into something more intimate as your eyes met.

“hi, husband,” you teased as he crossed the space to you, your voice low enough that only he could hear.

dick grinned, slipping his arms around your waist as he pulled you closer. “hi, my love.” he leaned in, his lips brushing against your temple in a soft kiss. “you having fun?”

you gave him a nod, resting your hands on his chest as you looked up at him. “i think so. everyone seems happy, and the food’s amazing. but what about you? you’ve been running around all day. when are you going to take a break and actually enjoy your own wedding?”

a chuckle escaped his lips while his long fingers traced absent patterns against the small of your back. “i’m enjoying it right now. you’re here. that’s all i need.”

your cheeks flushed slightly, but you rolled your eyes, playfully swatting his arm. “you’re such a sap.”

“and you married me anyway,” he shot back, leaning down until his forehead rested lightly against yours. he could feel your every breath, could inhale the very smell of your perfume. some might say a core memory formed at that moment, one he’d replay every time before he went to bed.

“questionable decision,” you teased, though the warmth in your eyes betrayed your words.

dick laughed, his smile as bright and effortless as the first time you met. he reached up, brushing a strand of hair from your face before cradling your cheek in his palm. “you’re incredible, you know that? this whole day—it’s perfect because of you. i don’t know how i got so lucky, but i promise, i’m not taking a second of it for granted.”

the sincerity in his voice made your heart ache in the best way, and you leaned into his touch, your hand covering his. “you’re pretty incredible yourself, grayson. and if anyone’s lucky, it’s me.”

he shook his head, his grin turning almost boyish. “nope. i’m definitely winning here. but we can call it even if you let me have this dance.”

you raised a brow, glancing at the small dance floor where a few couples swayed to the soft music drifting from the live quartet. “we’ve already danced, like, three times.”

“yeah, well, it’s our wedding. i’m legally obligated to monopolize you tonight.”

as the music swelled around you, the city lights twinkling in the distance, you knew without a doubt that this was exactly where you were meant to be.

JASON TODD

THE RECEPTION WAS in full swing, the wayne manor gardens glowing under a canopy of twinkling fairy lights strung between towering oak trees. lanterns dotted the grounds, casting soft golden hues over the tables draped in white linens. the sound of music carried through the crisp evening air, blending with laughter and the hum of conversation as friends and family celebrated the night away.

jason stood near the bar, his tie loosened, one hand wrapped around a glass of champagne he hadn’t really touched. his gaze was locked on you across the dance floor, where you were laughing at something alfred had just said. the old butler had a warm smile as he handed you another slice of cake, and you accepted it with the kind of grin that made jason’s chest ache.

your outfit was making you look like something out of a dream. his dream. jason had always thought weddings were too much—too over-the-top, too showy. but now, seeing you like this, he got it.

you spotted him before he reached you, your laughter softening into a warm smile as your eyes met. he held out a hand towards you, his touch gentle but firm, like he was grounding himself in the moment. “dance with me?” he asked, his voice low enough that only you could hear, a rare softness coloring his tone.

you didn’t even hesitate, setting your plate down and slipping your hand into his. “i thought you’d never ask.”

jason led you to the center of the dance floor, the noise around you fading as he pulled you close. one hand rested on your waist, the other clasping yours, his movements steady despite the usual roughness of his demeanor. the music slowed, and the two of you swayed together, your head resting against his shoulder as the world narrowed to just the two of you.

“i still can’t believe this is real,” he murmured after a while, his voice a little rough, like he was holding back more than he was saying.

you lifted your head to look at him, your smile soft and teasing. “what? that you’re married? or that you survived a wedding without causing a scene?”

he huffed a quiet laugh, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “both, probably. but mostly you. us. i never thought i’d get something like this. someone like you.”

your heart clenched at the vulnerability in his voice, the way he looked at you like you were something precious. “jason,” you breathed out his name softly, reaching up to cup his cheek. “you deserve this. you deserve every bit of happiness in the world. even if you don’t think so.”

“i don’t know what i did to deserve you, but i’m not letting go. not ever.”

“you better not,” you teased, though your voice wavered slightly, emotion thick in your throat.

jason leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead that lingered, as if he was memorizing the feel of you in his arms. when he pulled back, his eyes searched yours, his lips curling into the kind of smile he only ever gave you—soft, private, unguarded. a smile that was yours and yours only.

TIM DRAKE

THE RECEPTION WAS winding down, the soft glow of lanterns illuminating the gardens of wayne manor. the gentle hum of conversation and laughter mingled with the distant chirp of crickets, but tim was oblivious to it all. he stood under the sprawling oak tree where the two of you had first shared a quiet moment earlier in the evening. now, it was just the two of you, the chaos of the day finally giving way to a well deserved moment of peace.

tim looked at you, his suit jacket draped over his arm, his tie slightly loosened, and his dark hair still perfectly messy despite the long day. you were sitting on the edge of the stone bench beneath the tree. the faintest blush of moonlight kissed your features, making you look like something out of a dream.

he hesitated for a moment, as if trying to commit the image of you to memory, before finally stepping forward and offering you his hand. “dance with me?” he asked softly, his voice tinged with that quiet confidence you’d always found so endearing.

you looked up, a small smile playing on your lips. “there’s no music.”

tim shrugged, his hand still outstretched. “doesn’t mean we can’t dance.”

you let out a quiet laugh but slipped your hand into his, letting him pull you to your feet. he guided you to the soft patch of grass beneath the tree, his other hand resting lightly on your waist. his movements were a little stiff at first, the awkwardness that always crept in when he wasn’t behind a computer screen or a mission plan. but as you rested your head against his shoulder, he relaxed, his fingers curling slightly against your back.

the world seemed to shrink around you, the distant sounds of the reception fading away until it was just the rustle of the wind in the trees and the soft rhythm of your breathing. tim’s heart thudded against your cheek, steady and grounding, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“you know,” you murmured after a moment, your voice breaking the silence, “i think this is my favorite part of the day.”

your husband pulled back slightly, just enough to look down at you. “really? not the ceremony? or the cake? or bruce’s awkward toast?”

you laughed at the memory of bruce’s overly formal speech, but shook your head. “those were great. But this . . . this feels like us. quiet, simple, just real.”

“i like that. us.”

you tilted your head, your gaze searching his. “yeah?”

“yeah,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “because no matter what happens, no matter how crazy things get, this is what i’ll always come back to. you and me.”

the two of you swayed there for a while longer, the rest of the world forgotten as the stars glittered above. and in that moment, beneath the old oak tree and the soft glow of the lanterns, you knew you’d found your forever.

[drunk-person]

Please please please (Modern Au) P.4

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x cousin!reader

Summary: One of the most talked about gossips among the lower class servants in Kings Landing is the fact (or not) that Aemond Targaryen got involved with his cousin Y/n Targaryen when they were both teenagers. Mainly due to the fact that at the age of 17 she was sent to Old Town overnight. Some employees claim that Aemond was caught between her legs. Some say that, like her father, she had had a horrible fight with her uncle and aunt and was sent away. And other than that none of this happened, she just became interested in the course offered at the Old Town conservatory. But now five years later, Y/n Targaryen is back, and rumors haunt those who favor them.

This chapter is a part of a main story The gossip, you can find the previous chapter, summary and general tags by accessing the link.

Summary of the chapter: Rumors slowly grow out of control, a pair of silver heels can make more of an impact than you think.

Warnings of the chapter: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, slight codependency, no description for reader.

Word count: 12.800 k 🤯

A/N: I hope you like the new chapter, I'm very happy and grateful for all the dear people who commented on the previous chapter, thank you very much, your comments inspire me! Comments and suggestions are welcome 💕

A/N²: If Aemond had a song in this story, it would certainly be Apocalyptica - "Not Strong Enough". Y/n is a fashion expert, not me. So if you understand fashion and I happen to commit some crime against it, forgive me. If we analyze the title of the chapter and the chapter itself we will discover one of the reasons why Alicent doesn't want Y/n near Aemond. (Apart from the fact that they are both cousins).

❦❦❦

"Good morning Kings landing, it seems that Floris Baratheon is not in a very good mood, as yesterday she got involved in an argument with a clothing store attendant and almost got the young woman fired. The details of what was said were not disclosed , but one would expect more patience and joy from someone who is engaged to the son of one of, if not the greatest, tycoon in Westeros."

❦❦❦

The morning of the next day wasn't much different from the day before for Y/n and Aemond, with the two waking up naked and entangled, exchanging kisses and soft caresses.

-Let's take a bath? - Y/n whispered against Aemond's lips, who laughed and sighed at her at the same time while denying it.

-No bathing together today. - He kissed her lips as he said that. - Or I'll be even more late arriving at the company.

-It's going to be really quick, and you know I also need to go there today. -She sighed, looking at him and biting her lip, slightly apprehensive as she remembered that she needed to talk to her uncle.

Upon seeing Y/n fearful, Aemond lowered his guard and pulled her closer to him, needing to make her feel protected.

-Everything's going to be okay. - He kissed her lips again and suddenly her gaze returned to normal as she tried to convince him.

-C'mon. - She begged, climbing into his lap and kissing him deeper. - It doesn't need to be in the bathtub. - She brushed her lips with his. - Just in the shower is fine.

Aemond then put his hands on her hips and got up from the bed, making her laugh and scream as she clung to his neck.

-What do I do with you? - He arched his eyebrows as he quickly kissed her lips.

-I have many ideas of what you can do. - She smiled mischievously as she returned the peck on his lips, making him smile and roll his eyes.

As Aemond walked towards the bathroom Y/n kissed his neck and chin while rubbing herself against him and practically purring like a sly cat. Aemond could already feel himself harden, and from the angle she was in his arms he could feel her wetness against his own skin.

And when he leaned her against the bathroom wall already involved in a hungry kiss, Aemond accidentally turned on the cold water on both of them, making Y/n let out a cry of fright and cling even tighter to him.

-Aemond! - She shouted while he turned on the hot water too.

-Sorry. - He murmured laughing against her neck. - It wouldn't be so cold here if someone had remembered to readjust the thermostat last night.

-I was busy with other things. -Now it was Y/n who rolled her eyes as she lowered her lips to Aemond's neck again as she fluttered against him.

So needy. And Aemond could never deny it.

And with that thought he guided his cock to her wet entrance and fucked her against the bathroom wall while she moaned against his neck and kissed him contentedly. After they both reached climax he lowered her to the floor and watched as Y/n soaped her own body with an even bigger smile on her face now that he had gotten what he wanted.

-Can I take my shower now, Your Highness? - He asked ironically as he took the soap from her hand.

-Certainly my lord. - She curtsied and then kissed him on the chin before taking one of the towels and wrapping herself up to leave the bathroom while Aemond just smiled.

He took a little longer in the bathroom because he hadn't combed his hair the day before, and now the consequences of leaving it so long had arrived in the form of removing the knots that had formed naturally and by Y/n's wandering hands who loved him. stroll there.

A few minutes later, when he returned to the room with his hair combed and a towel around his waist, Aemond raised his eyebrows when he saw Y/n already dressed for the day.

-Where did you get those clothes? - His voice was confusing as she was wearing loose denim shorts just above the thigh and a black button-down shirt that had some buttons open, leaving a slight cleavage and exposing the sapphire necklace and with the hem inside the shorts, tucked in up to your elbows.

-They're yours. - She replied simply while looking in the mirror and adjusting her clothes to her body.

-I'm pretty sure I don't have any jeans that length. - Aemond said, curving his eyebrow at her, but noticing that the black button-down shirt she was wearing inside her shorts was actually his, but she had placed it in a way that didn't look so big on her.

-Not really, I cut one of your pants. - Y/n shrugged while unpretentiously going through Aemond's things looking for something.

-Did you cut my pants? - He asked with his eyebrows still curved as he looked at her beautiful legs in the shorts.

-Yeah, but don’t worry, I’m sure you didn’t like these. They were a rather strange light color. Who gave you this? - She asked as she walked around so he could admire the clothes better.

Aemond smiled, Y/n was right it had been a gift, he would never have bought those pants with that ugly color, but they strangely looked good on Y/n. He could never understand how she could look beautiful wearing literally anything, or literally nothing. Gods he loved so much when she wore nothing. And then he shook his head, pushing those thoughts away and giving she the answer.

-Aegon gave it to me for my birthday.

-Typical of him, but you were actually lucky. -Y/n rolled her eyes as she grabbed a black belt from one of the drawers and threaded it through the fasteners of her shorts and secured them in place. - Remember when he arrived drunk on my birthday, gave me a French fry as a gift and shouted "get it, little cousin". - Y/n spoke in disbelief while imitating Aegon's voice. - Afterwards he told me that he had found that potato in the trash.

Aemond stared at her, barely listening to what Y/n said, she looked so beautiful wearing his clothes. The feeling of possession that he already naturally had towards her was even stronger at that moment.

-Damn. - Y/n said, looking at her feet with a frown and forgetting the previous topic.

-What's it? - Aemond pulled her towards him by the belt loops, gluing her body to his and feeling even more satisfied when he smelled his own shampoo exuding from her hair.

-My heels won't match this outfit! - Y/n looked at him with a mixture of irritation and upset at the same time.

-Why not? - His hands went up to her waist, squeezing them gently while Aemond looked at her without understanding, the heels were perfectly good and made her legs look beautiful. And he would definitely fuck her wearing just those heels after thinking about it.

Y/n just rolled her eyes at Aemond's question as if he wasn't making sense.

-They are extravagant, and these clothes are obviously over size since they are yours, it won't work.

-Take one of my shoes. - Aemond said simply, kissing her neck slightly wetly.

-Aem.. - Y/n snorted rolling her eyes again. - Your feet are huge, we haven't worn the same size since I was 13.

-I need to buy shoes that match. - She said, already looking at him with those needy eyes and he looked away, not wanting to give in.

-I can't be late at the company today, I didn't go yesterday and I left early the day before. - Aemond mumbled with his head buried in her neck.

-Please Aem. -She said pulling out the last letter as she looked him in the eyes again, as he had lifted his head from her neck.

-Y/n.. - Before he could continue she reached out and kissed him on the lips, wrapping her hands around his neck.

-Please Aem…-Her voice was low and melodious as she trailed tender kisses down his jaw and chin as she rubbed herself lightly against him. - I won't delay you, it will only take five minutes. I swear.

-mhnm. We can stop by a shoe store on the way. - He agreed with a sigh, not being able to resist and Y/n jumped on his neck, kissing his face.

-I'm going to fix my hair. - She gave Aemond one last kiss on his jaw before walking towards the bathroom again while he just smiled and watched her.

Aemond went into his own closet and chose the same formal work clothes that he usually wore. And as he reached for a pair of boxers he heard Y/n's shrill, terrified scream coming from the other room. He didn't even bother getting dressed or wrapping himself in a towel, he just ran as he was towards the bathroom where Y/n was coming from, her eyes full of tears, and when she saw him, she threw herself into his arms.

-Hey Hey. - Aemond hugged her trying to calm her down. - What there was?

-S- Spider. - Y/n stuttered, still clinging to Aemond.

-It's not real. -Aemond spoke in a calm voice as he stroked her hair. - It’s made of crystal, it was a gift from Helaena.

-What is that thing doing in the bathroom cabinet? - She asked calmer but still with a shrill voice.

-I put it there because I didn't know where to put it. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. - His voice was very calm and he was still stroking her hair firmly while holding her very close to him. - I'll throw it away, okay?

-You can't throw Hel's gift away, she'll be upset. - Y/n immediately denied it, still hugging him and with her head buried in his strong chest. - Just… put it in a very hidden place that I will never find in my life.

Aemond nodded her head and then pressed a kiss against her hair.

-Will you bring the brush and other things so I can fix my hair here? -She asked with her voice still a little sensitive as she looked at Aemond with fearful eyes.

-I'll take whatever you want. - He said, drying the tears that had run down her cheeks with his fingertips.

-I don’t like seeing you cry, only in the right way. - He said trying to do her smiling and being happy when he saw that it worked.

-What would be the right way? -She laughed a little at that question as she arched her eyebrows.

-Under me for sure. - He then kissed her forehead before heading towards the bathroom.

Aemond collected everything Y/n needed and not knowing what to do with the black crystal spider that was almost the size of his own hand, he just threw it in the laundry basket to be sorted later. It was a bit tricky having a sister who was obsessed with bugs while he had Y/n with a bug phobia, which was considerably worse with spiders.

-Okay, everything is here. - Aemond placed the things on the bed and Y/n smiled in response.

-My hero.

-I do what I can. - He gave her a peck on the lips as he approached. - Are you calmer? -His voice was soft as she held Y/n's face in her hands and she just nodded at him.

-Good. -He gently kissed her forehead and went towards the closet again, only then noticing that he was completely naked while doing all this.

Aemond got dressed in a hurry while he heard Y/n grumble irritably outside about her hair being unmanageable after the previous day, and that she wouldn't be able to fix it in such a short time. He just smirked, for him it was perfect he loved her hair when it was all crazy and out of control. And he couldn't help but raise his eyebrows when he came out of the closet, finishing fixing the sleeve of his own shirt, and found her with her hair tied up in a slightly messy bun and with braids on the sides.

-Didn't you say it was impossible to make your hair presentable in such a short time? - It was more than presentable, it was perfect.

-We both know that I can be a little dramatic when I want to. - She squinted her eyes and shrugged her shoulders as she walked towards Aemond who just rolled his eyes and crossed his right arm behind Y/n's back as he guided her to the door.

There was no more time for breakfast at home, and Aemond decided to just stop on the way and grab something quick from a coffee maker while Y/n bought her shoes.

Y/n put on her high heels to go out, as they were the only pair of shoes available at the moment. And Aemond felt his mouth water when he saw her legs in those shorts and those heels, and he couldn't resist pressing Y/n against the door, standing on her back and bringing his lips closer to the shell of her ear.

-You have no idea how hot you look in those heels. - He murmured, brushing his lips gently against her ear, making Y/n catch her breath momentarily. - And if I didn't have so many things to do today I would bend you against that table and fuck you until you cry right now.

His voice saying that stole all of Y/n's breath, and she barely managed to sigh to be able to respond to Aemond.

-Do not make threats that you do not intend to fulfill Aemond Targaryen. - She finally responded with her eyes closed and stuttering a little at the feeling of him pressing her from behind.

-I never do. - He assured her with a mischievous smile as he left a kiss on the back of her head before the two walked out the door.

❦❦❦

Aemond took the usual route to the company while Y/n looked out the window looking for a decent shoe store, as the two agreed to avoid an even longer delay. It was when she saw the golden Tyrell sign that she went into an uproar asking Aemond to stop the car, and he couldn't help but smile softly when he saw her happy.

-Can you give me your card? - She spoke with a sweet and cheerful voice while blinking her eyes - Mine stayed at the hotel.

Aemond rolled his eyes and gave a small smile as he reached for his wallet in the car's gearbox and pulled out his credit card, handing it to Y/n, who gave him a quick kiss on the lips before getting out of the car and heading towards the shoe store.

❦❦❦

Y/n bit her lower lip when she saw Jimmy Tyrell's new summer collection and practically had to close her eyes to pass it by and not try on each pair. Going straight to the one that her thought would look best with the outfit she was wearing. It took all the strength she had inside her not to ask the saleswoman to bring a box of each pair in her size.

The store saleswoman took the black sandals out of the box and Y/n thanked her, saying that she put them on herself.

And when Y/n took off her silver heels, the saleswoman raised her eyebrows and then opened her eyes wide in shock, trying her best to hide her reaction.

Y/n looked in the mirror, appreciating the combination of her new sandals with the rest of her outfit and ended up not resisting choosing a pair of earrings that matched as well since the ones from the night before didn't go well with this outfit, then paying for everything and running back to the car before Aemond collapsed.

The store doors had barely closed after Y/n left and the saleswoman who served her had already run to the back door of the store behind one of her co-workers in an uproar.

-Mila, didn't your aunt say that she saw a pair of silver shoes at Aemond Targaryen's house yesterday morning? - She asked with a frown and biting her lip in curiosity.

-Yes, she told me Joy. - Mila confirmed while storing shoe boxes in the store's inventory. - He didn’t let her into the apartment and then his mother called all strange looking for him. - Mila whispered to her friend again and then looked around before continuing. - My aunt thinks he was cheating on his fiancee.

-Well you won't believe who came in here wearing a pair of beautiful silver high heels and with Aemond Targaryen's credit card. - Joy said, restraining herself from screaming with excitement as she spread the gossip.

-Who? - Mila's voice emanated curiosity and she had already abandoned her work to pay attention to the conversation with wide eyes.

-Y/n Targaryen in person. - Joy practically hummed the words, trying hard not to scream.

-No fucking way. - It was the only thing that Milla could answer with her jaw dropped.

❦❦❦

Y/n admired her new sandals, and adjusted the side buckle so it didn't squeeze her ankle so much, while Aemond took turns watching the traffic and looking out of the corner of his eye whenever he could. Until a happy melody in Shania Tyrell's voice sounded over the car radio and Aemond smiled, turning up the volume as he watched Y/n's smile grow along with the melody.

-Do you still love this song?

-Absolutely. - She laughed and then began to sing along while shaking her head from side to side, smiling.

Aemond, taking advantage of them being stopped at the traffic light, looked at her more directly, and shit, how he had missed the contagious joy that Y/n had. The laugh, the smile, that curve of her cheek every time she was really happy about something. He felt as if the day Y/n left all the happiness had been sucked out of his chest, but now, it was as if a ray of sunshine of pure joy had hit him with her return.

-Sing with me Aem. - She asked smiling and Aemond denied with a sideways smile.

-Please Aem. - She asked, biting his lip and looking at him from beneath his eyelashes.

-Don't do that. - He begged while biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling.

-Please Aemond. Just the chorus. - She begged. - I'll give you whatever you want later.

-You'll give me whatever I want anyway. - He couldn't help but smile dirtyly when he said that and Y/n rolled her eyes.

-Just the chorus. - She leaned over and kissed his neck. - For me.

-I hate you. - Aemond rolled his eyes before starting to sing the chorus along with Y/n who smiled even bigger while drumming his fingers against his own thighs.

-I think one of your biggest character inconstancies is that you like reach music. - Aemond mocked.

-Oh, shut up, Shania Tyrell is a music icon! - Y/n protested with a laugh as she continued singing, making him smile.

The rest of the way to the company was peaceful, with Aemond driving calmly while keeping one hand resting on Y/n's knee, who just admired the city's landscape with a small smile on her lips.

❦❦❦

The two attracted all eyes as soon as they left the main elevator, but Aemond didn't even notice, too lost to observe things around him, already heading towards the elevator that would take him to his own office floor.

-Good morning Mrs. Mayotte. - Aemond's mood was visibly better just by the tone of voice, and the secretary almost choked when she raised her head to answer him and found Y/n's figure next to him. - Any complications yesterday?

-N-No. - She replied nervously while shaking her head. - No complications.

-Good. - He nodded before entering his own office followed by Y/n who smiled and waved at Lizze and Sana.

As soon as the door closed, Lizze ran to Sana's desk, who was organizing some files on the computer.

-Sana… - Lizze's voice sounded more like a squeak as she crouched down near her co-worker's desk.

-What it was? - The other woman leaned forward out of curiosity, moving closer so she could hear.

-The shirt she's wearing is his! - Lizze whispered/shouted to her friend.

-What the fuck? - Sana almost screamed with wide eyes and Lizze signaled her to shut up. - How do you know that shirt is his? - She asked more quietly.

-Jaehaerys spilled juice on his suit a couple of weeks ago and he took it off and asked me to take it to the dry cleaners. - Lizze said in a fast-paced voice. - The embroidery on the collar is the same, and I'm sure that if you look under the collar there will be his initials there.

-Holy shit. - Sana's eyes looked like golf balls at that moment, as the two looked at the door in shock.

❦❦❦

-So this is your office? - Y/n said with her eyes shining as she looked around smiling. There wasn't a speck of dust out of place, just like everything that had to do with Aemond.

He just smiled and hummed as he went towards his own desk, already turning on his laptop and organizing some papers in his own folder. After looking around, Y/n sat on his lap, hanging around Aemond's neck while he organized some files on the main computer.

-I need to go talk to Uncle Viserys. - Y/n sighed, still sitting on Aemond's lap and he gently squeezed her thigh with strength.

-See you for lunch? - Aemond smiled sideways at Y/n who nodded positively while leaving a soft kiss on his chin and getting up heading towards the door.

Shortly after Y/n left, Aemond took a deep breath, still feeling his own body light. And after looking at some schedules on the computer, he got up heading towards Aegon's room, he smiled slightly when he opened the door and saw Jaehaerys' silver hair, who was playing with a cart on the carpet absently.

He didn't even have time to talk to his nephew like he always did, since as soon as Aegon saw him he got up and walked towards him.

-Where were you? I had to read a 30 page report yesterday. - The oldest asked irritated and Aemond rolled his eyes.

-I was busy. - He replied dryly.

Aegon's eyebrows arched slightly as he approached his brother, noticing a purple mark just below the collar of his shirt.

-I can see it. - He laughed mischievously, pointing at his younger brother's hickey, who adjusted the collar of his shirt at the same moment.

-But I thought you hadn't wet your cookie since Y/n left. - Aegon curved his eyebrows in confusion at the youngest. And when Aemond just looked away it was as if the realization of what was happening came upon Aegon all at once.

-Holy shit, she just set foot in the city again and you're already making out with our little cousin again? - Aegon practically shouted in shock, putting his hands to his face, but then he looked to the side and found his son's clear eyes watching them.

Jaehaerys looked at his father and uncle attentively and Aegon bit his tongue before continuing the inappropriate conversation for the innocent ears of his little boy.

-Jae, why don't you listen to some music on Daddy's cell phone? - Aegon asked smiling and crouching down next to Jaehaerys who gave him a wide smile as he agreed, extending his hands to take the cell phone and headphones from Aegon's hand.

-I want the baby shark one, daddy. - He practically screamed with excitement as he ran to the couch.

After Jaehaerys put the headphones in his ears and turned on the music, the older man turned to his excited brother again and returned to the topic.

-Did you two just clung to each other or was it really good? - Aegon rubbed his hands and shook his eyebrows as he spoke.

-That's none of your business, Aegon. - Aemond replied irritated with a cold voice.

-Did you fuck her? - Aegon asked with his mouth open, already realizing what had happened just by the younger man's expression.

-Shut up Aegon.

-Seven hells, she arrived a day ago and you two are already back to your old habits. Mom is going to be so crazy when she finds out.

-She's not going to find out. -Aemond replied instantly while he slightly squinted his eyes.

-Hell yeah, just like she didn't find out the first time? - Aegon asked, laughing as he threw himself into the chair and raised his feet on the table, but before Aemond could respond to his brother the door opened without warning, interrupting the conversation.

-Aegon. - A shrill and irritated voice came through the door, drawing the brothers' attention. -What the hell is this?

She was shaking the papers in her left hand, her face closed in anger.

-Data reporting? - He arched his eyebrow and spoke with an air of obviousness.

-No, these are drawings of a naked woman. - She said even more irritated and then her eyes widened, but she sighed in relief when she saw that Jaehaerys had headphones on and was distracted while humming.

Aemond raised his eyebrows and Aegon opened his eyes wide and went towards the woman, taking them from her hand.

-Fuck. - He said, trying to hide the drawings from Aemond who was looking at them over his older brother's shoulder.

-Seriously Aegon, I need the reports for about 10 minutes ago, where are they? - She begged, stamping her foot impatiently on the floor, her face slightly flushed.

-Sorry, sorry. - Aegon said, heading towards his own table and rummaging through all the drawers under the incredulous gaze of Aemond and the girl.

-On here. - He held out a pad of paper, which, unlike the drawings, which were in perfect condition, had slight ears on the edges.

-One day I'm going to kill myself inside this office, and it will be your fault, Aegon Targaryen. - She said, turning around and leaving without even saying a word to Aemond while she smoothed the papers hard, trying to remove the wrinkles.

-Good morning to you too, Miss Lanister. - Aegon shouted as she slammed the door loudly.

-I loved the drawings. - Aemond spoke unpretentiously while moving the anti-stress ball on Aegon's desk. - Mainly that mole on the right shoulder, which actually looks a lot like Ms. Lanister there.

-Shut up Aemond. - Aegon said, putting away the papers with drawings in a green folder and with golden elastic bands.

❦❦❦

Y/n held her breath for a few moments as she found herself at the door of Viserys's room on the top floor of the building. She couldn't run away, she needed to talk to her uncle, but the thought of facing him again after so long made her nervous, and memories of that horrible night five years ago came back to her instantly. With a sigh, Y/n shook her head, as if that would drive away the bad thoughts, and then knocked on the door and entered her uncle's room.

It was still the way she remembered it from the few times she had been there. Well lit, with models of buildings and other installations designed by the uncle spread throughout the room. According to him, only those that he was most proud of.

-Y/n? - Came that still, sweet voice from the other side of the room. - Are you my daughter?

And suddenly the fear and apprehension left Y/n's body as she turned and walked towards her uncle who was waiting for her with open arms ready for a warm hug.

-Ah, my dear, you are so grown up. - He smiled, still hugging her. - Yesterday she was still a little girl and now she's an adult.

Viserys stroked Y/n's hair and she wanted to cry with emotion. She expected screams. She expected him to ask her what she was doing there. Expected anything but to receive affection. And it took everything in her not to break down and let a few treacherous tears run down her cheeks.

-Come, sit here and let's talk. - The uncle said after letting go of the hug, guiding her to the table and sitting next to his niece. - Now that you're back home, what do you plan to do? - Viserys's gaze was curious. - Do you intend to work at the company?

Y/n made an involuntary grimace as she imagined herself working in the family company, the only good thing would be being close to Aemond. Which wasn't even such a good point since he would be working and wouldn't even have time to talk to her.

-No, no working at the company for me. You know I've never had a knack for Targaryen business, it's a lot of boring and not much creativity.

Viserys just laughed softly as he stared at his niece.

-Uncle, what I really want is to work in fashion. - Y/n continued with a confident voice. - I want to open my own brand, and you'll see, in a short time it will be as big as Jimmy Tyrell and Saint Tully! - Y/n's eyes sparkled when talking about this.

-It's good to know that you want to commit to something. - Viserys patted his niece's shoulder a few times, who smiled widely at her uncle's gesture of affection, and taking advantage of the moment of goodwill, Y/n took a deep breath and decided to ask.

-Uncle.. I have the money that my father sends me saved, in addition to what you always saved for me in the same account. - She started insecure. - But I'm still going to need a little bit more capital if I want to open my own brand.

Y/n's look at Viserys was identical to the look Daemon gave him when he had some wild idea, which Viserys usually didn't pay attention to. And thinking about this, and how perhaps with more attention on his part his brother would not have strayed so far, Viserys made the decision.

-Will you stay out of trouble? - He asked, curving his eyebrows a little.

-I will, uncle, I promise. - Y/n responded immediately while kissing her own fingers.

-So the answer is yes. - He confirmed smiling gently at his niece. - I will invest in your project.

Y/n almost screamed when she heard her uncle's yes and threw herself at him, hugging him tightly, making Viserys laugh softly.

-You won't regret the investment, uncle. - She said excitedly. - I guarantee you that in a short time Perzys & Anogar will be a reference fashion in Westeros.

-Perzys & Anogar? - The oldest asked, still laughing.

-Yes, fire and blood did you like it? It's our family motto in Old Valyrian, I took it from a history book. - She smiled even brighter.

-Very good. - Viserys nodded and then became a little more serious. -But what about your percentage in the company? What will you do when you gain control over her one day?

-Aemond can manage my part for me. - Before Y/n could think too much about it, she responded completely unconcerned while gently waving her hand, as if it had already been resolved a long time ago.

Viserys arched his eyebrow slightly when he heard that and Y/n curled her lips down and her eyes widened a little when she realized what he had said.

If Alicent were in that room, it would be the seven hells on earth.

-I mean, he's definitely going to manage Hel's part since she can't stand all of this either. - She waved her hands pretending not to care. - I might as well let him manage mine too.

-And how is your health, uncle? - She asked quickly changing the subject, which worked well since her uncle was easily distracted.

-From strength to strength, I will easily reach 100. - Viserys replied, now more smiling. - Your aunt put me on a diet where I can only eat green food, and the doctor cut out all sugar.

-Are you still using insulin? - Y/n asked genuinely worried.

-A pen a day. - Viserys sighed. - But he has kept his diabetes under control.

-You don't know how happy I am to see you healthy, uncle. - She smiled, shaking his hand firmly and smiling reassuringly.

-Ah my daughter, and I'm happy to see you home. - Viserys smiled back at his niece, even with all the circumstances, with everything he knew that could come from this return, he couldn't help but be happy to see a family member again. And at that moment Viserys thought about how good it would be to see his own brother face to face again.

❦❦❦

Not far from there, Aemond maid Mrs. Dancil went to his apartment again, and before going upstairs she took the keys that Aemond left for her at the entrance when he wasn't at home.

She generally never had much work to clean Aemond Targaryen's apartment. Unlike his older brother, Aemond didn't have many decorations at home that she had to clean, his furniture was simple and without gaps and his things were always in order.

But when she took into consideration the fact that Aegon lived with a huge dog and a child she could even understand the mess in his apartment. Today was one of the few times that she found the apartment slightly disorganized.

The bed hadn't been made, there were some glasses and cups in the sink, the couch and living room were disorganized, and there was more laundry to wash than usual. But the biggest surprise for the older maid was finding a black crystal spider in the laundry basket, next to a very short black dress.

Curiosity gnawed at the lady to know who was at her boss's house the day before so he hadn't let her in, and she looked everywhere, but couldn't find the heels she had seen on the shoe rack near the door.

There was only one question in her head: who was the woman in the black dress and silver heels who was in Aemond Targaryen's house?

❦❦❦

After leaving her uncle's office, Y/n returned to Aemond's office in an uproar, barely able to contain her own smile, not even noticing the panicked look on the faces of Aemond and Aegon's secretaries. She just closed the office door behind her and practically skipped over to Aemond's desk, and she couldn't help but smile when she saw her so excited.

-Based on your excitement, I can tell that the conversation with my father was good. - He hugged her around the waist while still sitting in the chair, and Y/n nodded in response.

-You won't believe it Aem. - Her voice was pure joy. - He didn't fight with me, he was actually very happy to see me. He said he's happy to have me back. - Y/n was beaming when she said that.

-Maybe Aunt Alicent will also be happy to see me. - She said hopefully, and Aemond refused to say otherwise because he didn't want to take away her joy.

-And what else did you talk about? - Aemond changed the focus of the conversation, squeezing her gently around the waist, and Y/n smiled even more.

-He asked me about my plans for the future, and I told him about my idea for the brand. - She bit her lip, looking at Aemond, waiting to speak.

-And then? - He asked, visibly apprehensive, pulling her even closer. - What did he say?

-He said he will invest in my idea! - Y/n practically jumped with joy and Aemond got up from the chair hugging her tightly while leaving a long kiss on her hair.

-Did he say how much he will invest in you? - Aemond asked with a smile looking into her eyes as he enjoyed that glow of joy that he loved so much, and Y/n shook her head.

-No, he just said he was going to invest. - Her joy was palpable, since she was 14 Y/n said she wanted to have her own brand. While Aemond was studying to be a businessman, she was designing clothes, reading about fashion and learning to sew. In the first two she was great, in the last one not so much. And he smiled as he remembered the shirt with one long sleeve and one short sleeve that she had made for him.

-That's incredible. - He murmured smiling against her hair while Y/n hugged him tight and smiled excitedly.

The sound of the door opening made them both break away from the hug and look in the direction of the sound in fear. But to both of their relief, it was just Aegon who smiled mischievously in their direction.

-Welcome back, little cousin. - He said, laughing and waving his eyebrows as he closed the door behind him and entered the room, making Aemond roll his eyes and Y/n smile.

Aegon then opened his arms as he approached and Y/n, rolling her eyes with a smile, hugged him.

-I'm glad you came back. - He smiled, releasing her from the hug. - I was getting tired of being the only troublemaker in the family.

-No one can compete with you in this regard, Aegon. - Y/n furrowed her eyebrows and shook her head.

-Based on the quality time you and my little brother enjoy spending together, I'm tempted to say that you two can. - He mocked and then took two steps back, raising his hands when he saw Aemond's deadly look.

-I just remembered that I forgot to leave some food for Sunfyre. - He said scratching his head.

-Aegon, the only two things you do responsibly are take care of Jaehaerys and Sunfyre. - Aemond rolled his eyes. - I know you're just running away from work.

-Well, now that we've established that, I'm going to take my son and go home and watch TV. Goodbye brother, bye-bye little cousin. Don't do anything I wouldn't do. - Aegon said, walking out the door and then opening it again and just putting his head in and blinking as he said. - Remembering that there are very few things that I wouldn't do.

Aemond rolled his eyes deeply at his older brother who just slammed the door again while laughing. And when Y/n and Aemond were about to return to the conversation, the door opened once again and Aegon quickly entered with wide eyes.

-What do you want now? - Aemond snorted at his brother.

-Miss Mayotte said our mother is coming up.- He spoke in a strangled voice and Y/n and Aemond's eyes widened too.

-Shit. - Aemond hissed, looking from one side to the other.

-What are we gonna do? - Y/n squeaked in panic looking at the door, it was one thing to imagine her aunt's reaction to seeing her in person again, another was the real thing. And considering the things she said last time, Y/n's blood ran cold in her veins as she imagined Alicent's reaction if she found her in Aemond's office.

-You hide in my office. - Aegon spoke at the same moment, gesturing towards the door. - And you don't do anything, just stay here and invent something for mom.

Y/n left a quick peck on Aemond's lips, looking at him worriedly, then ran with Aegon out the door and entered the older man's office under the watchful eyes of the secretaries.

The two had barely closed the door when the elevator opened and Alicent got out of it with a look of unfriendliness, stepping firmly towards Aemond's office.

-Good morning Mrs. Hightower. - Lizze greeted her without looking her in the eye, practically sweating coldly with nervousness.

-Is my son in his office? - Her voice wasn't cold, it wasn't cutting and it wasn't nearly as frightening as her son's, but Lizze didn't know why she was equally intimate.

-Yes ma'am. - She shook her head, still without facing Alicent.

-And he is… alone? - The eldest arched her eyebrows and lips as she spoke.

-He has just with Mr. Aegon, ma'am. - She held her breath as she lied.

-Very well. - Alicent didn't say anything more than that before turning and entering Aemond's office without even knocking on the door.

Lizze practically sank into her chair when she heard the door close.

-Do you think we did the right thing in warning that she was arriving? - Sana whispered fearfully while biting the inside of her cheek.

-But of course! Have you gone crazy? - Lizze hissed in a whisper. - I'd rather cut my own neck than piss off the Targaryens. Besides, she can't fire us, he can.

❦❦❦

Aemond was sitting behind his own desk analyzing, or at least pretending to analyze, a data report when the office door opened and Alicent walked in with a very stern face, looking at each part of the office as if someone was hiding somewhere. .

-Mom, it's good to see you at the company. - Aemond smiled, pretending to be surprised when he saw her there, and also pretending not to notice the way she looked at his office. - Is everything okay?

-I came to ask you the exact same thing, my son. - Her voice was careful. - I found out from your father that you didn't come to work yesterday. Have there been any problems?

Aemond could see his mother's eyes shining with suspicion, he could see her hands tightly gripping the strap of her bag as she stared at him as if he were in a police interrogation after committing a crime.

-No problem. - He shrugged his shoulders indifferently with a stoic look as he lied. - Did anyone make it seem like there was some kind of problem?

-No, but you don't have the habit of missing work, Aemond. - She narrowed her eyes looking at him. - Which led me to believe that there was some kind of problem… - Alicent then paused before concluding. - Or perhaps someone causing problems.

-Fortunately you are wrong mom. -Aemond smiled slightly cynically as he lied. - I just drank a little too much at Cercei Lanister's party, and as you know, I don't have a habit of drinking. - He shrugged his shoulders. - I just felt bad in the morning the other day and decided to stay at home, since it wouldn't be of much use in that way.

-So you just stayed alone in your apartment all day because you drank a little too much? - Alicent looked at him somewhat gullibly as she approached the table, and Aemond nodded.

-It was just that, mom. - His voice sounded firm, and anyone would think he was telling the truth, and he normally would, but Alicent knew he was lying because of all the facts that had already come to her attention the day before, and there was only one person that would make Aemond lie to her so shamelessly.

-I hope it's just that, Aemond, and that you're not so foolish as to repeat the same mistakes again. - Her voice was cutting. - Such a thing would be an abomination in the eyes of the seven.

-I learned from my mistakes, mother. I won't commit them again. - Aemond murmured, feeling his own chest compress when he heard his mother's harsh voice directed at him.

Alicent wanted to scream at Aemond. Saying that she knew very well just by looking into his eyes that he was walking with that little snake once again, but she couldn't make such a scandal in the company with so many curious ears listening.

And with that in mind she took a deep breath before saying goodbye to her son with an apology and leaving the company with a hard step. Coming to the conclusion that she would need her father's advice on how to act in this situation before Aemond lost himself for good.

❦❦❦

Y/n and Aegon walked back and forth around his office like two headless chickens. Looks of concern visible on their faces as Jaehaerys jumped on the couch and sang the same song over and over using his father's headphones once again.

-Fuck, fuck, fuck. - Aegon repeated with his hands on his face.

-She can't be that bad yet, can she? People get more malleable over time. - Y/n's voice was anxious as she faced Aegon in panic.

Aegon let out a muffled chuckle.

-Maybe with certain types of things, but this? - He shook his head while making a grimace. - Oh no, she's still totally mad about it.

-Thank you Aegon, it was really very reassuring of you to say that. - Y/n directed a fake smile at her cousin, who just shrugged, pouting.

And without warning, the door handle turned and the two screamed in fright, scaring even Jaehaerys who stopped singing and stared at the two with wide eyes.

-It's me. - Came Aemond's soft voice and Y/n ran towards the door, unlocking it at the same moment and jumping into Aemond's arms as soon as he stepped inside.

She feels so scared. Afraid that in those few moments Alicent had made him change his mind, that he would say again that this was all a mistake and that he didn't want her anymore. And when Aemond crossed his arms behind her back and hugged her back tightly, y/n sighed in pure relief.

-All good. - He stroked her back. -My mother has already gone, she has a meeting with a group of do-gooders from the General Hospital, she can't stay long.

Y/n just nodded and Aegon sighed in relief, but then he raised his eyebrows as if he had suddenly reached a terrible idealization while he brought his hands to his face, pulling his eyes down.

-Shit, now I'm your two accomplice and when mom finds out, and she will, because I've never been able to hide some of the shit I did from her in my life, she's going to kill me too. - He gestured with his hands and walked in circles while talking uncontrollably. -That's a tremendous lack of consideration of you to, getting me involved in this. I already have enough problems on my own!

-Is grandma going to kill you off, daddy? - Jaehaerys asked innocently, looking at the three still standing on the sofa, and Aegon had to hold back a curse when he noticed that his son had taken off his headphones and was listening to their conversation.

-It's just a way of speaking, little mouse. - Aegon smiled and stroked Jaehaerys' head gently. - Grandma loves me. - He spoke with a less confident voice than he should have when referring to his own mother's love.

-Well, since I saved your necks, you both owe me this one. - Aegon grumbled to Aemond as he took Jaehaerys in his arms, making the boy laugh.

-Hello, sweetheart. -Y/n gently tickled Jaehaerys now that she was lighter again, making him laugh a little and hide his face in Aegon's neck. - The last time I saw you you looked like a small grain of beans.

Y/n spoke sweetly to Jaehaerys who smiled embarrassedly at her, but then whispered something to Aegon and got off her father's lap heading towards the small table that was next to the sofa and he used to play. He reached for a drawing of a butterfly and handed him to Y/n with a shy smile before climbing into his father's lap again.

-To me? - Y/n asked smiling genuinely and he just nodded his head. - You really have talent, you know I love drawing too. - Her voice sounded so kind and so gentle when speaking to him, giving so much importance to the little boy when she would give it to an adult, making Jaehaerys smile feeling important.

Aemond felt as if his heart was beating in an unnatural way when he saw Y/n talking so sweetly to Jaehaerys. All the promises they had made to each other were playing in his mind like a symphony, and at that moment all he wanted was to start his own family with his Y/n.

❦❦❦

After all that confusion, Aegon said goodbye and took Jaehaerys home. The rest of the afternoon luckily went without any major problems, Aemond ordered lunch for both of them at the office, and Ms. Mayotte brought it to them shortly afterwards.

And after they both had lunch amidst simpler conversations, Aemond needed to go back to work and Y/n lay down on the couch and smiled when she saw some magazines on the table, but grimaced as soon as she saw the topics. Business, finance, scientific studies.

-There's nothing about… fashion? - She arched her eyebrows, making a slight frown at Aemond, who just laughed.

-I don't have any at the moment, but I can get some for you in the future. - He smiled. - You can try a different reading for now.

-Nah. - Y/n smiled and turned even more towards Aemond. - I'd rather just watch you.

And that's what she did, for the rest of the afternoon Aemond did his best to catch up on the late work again. He made calls, personally rescheduled an important lunch, read and reread reports, wrote reports, signed a multitude of papers, all under Y/n's watchful eyes, even if every now and then she got distracted and started going through Aemond's things with interest, even leafing through a magazine about market analysis.

And when Aemond was almost finishing an exhaustive reading of a contract that the company's legal department had already pre-approved, he lifted his head slightly and found Y/n sitting on the other side of the table looking at him with a look of enchantment, as if the most amazing person in the world was in front of her.

-What happened? - Aemond asked, slightly embarrassed by the intensity of Y/n's gaze, and she stood up and walked towards him, who moved his chair away from the table to face her.

-The way you dedicate yourself to everything you do always impresses me. - She placed her hands on the table and smiled at him. - I've been watching you all afternoon, and it's all so complex, but you make it seem simple.

Y/n smiled at him so sweetly when she said those words, and Aemond felt his heart warm at that. He pulled her to sit on his lap and she did so willingly, still smiling.

-You always do it. - He murmured against her soft neck.

-This what? - Y/n's voice sounded confused.

-Makes me feel like I'm important. - He smiled against her neck and left a butterfly kiss there, making Y/n sigh.

-You are important. - She stated with a firm voice as she snuggled even closer to him, and Aemond just murmured softly in a silent response.

-I just thought of something… - Y/n rambled with her head laying against Aemond's chest.

-What? - He stroked her back gently up and down.

-If I'm going to start my own brand, unfortunately I'm going to need to understand at least a little about all these market and finance things. - Y/n snorted and Aemond mocked her when he heard that.

-I can give you some lessons. - He arched his eyebrows and now the one who mocked was Y/n.

-Please Aemond, the last time you gave me private lessons I learned everything, except what you were supposed to teach me.

-I'm a great teacher. - He said falsely offended by staring at her. - It's not my fault that you're an easily distracted student.

-Yes, because it's very easy for me to concentrate with your hands running up and down my thighs under the skirt. - Y/n rolled her eyes.

-Your thighs always distracted me. - He shrugged his shoulders.

-I thought it was my boobs. - She whispered kissing his neck.

-Boobs too. - Aemond murmured, pouting while squeezing her hips. - In fact, you're all a distraction, for example, right now.

-Well, I could use a little attention now. - Y/n laughed, crossing her arms around his neck when she heard that.

-I'm almost done here and we can go home. - He smiled back at Y/n and with her still in his lap he opened a drawer looking for something, suddenly his features became slightly grumpy.

-I forgot a flash drive in the car. - He spoke grumpily. - I'm going to go there to get it over with. - Y/n quickly got up, and Aemond went towards the door.

-Be right back. - He muttered as he left.

As he passed through the hall he didn't ask for anything, not asked about the work in progress, or gave even more paperwork to the secretariat, which left Lizz and Sana even more intrigued and certain that something was wrong there.

When Aemond arrived at the parking lot, his cell phone rang in his jacket pocket, and he pulled it out, huffing slightly and feeling like vomiting when he saw the name on the display.

Floris.

This certainly was the seven hells on earth. Aemond wanted to answer, he knew he should answer, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't answer that call after having been hugging Y/n about two minutes ago. He could still smell her scent clinging to his, and after the conversation they had had the day before he could not in any way betray Y/n like that.

And then he promised himself that he would go to Floris's apartment for a personal talk and resolve all this, but at that moment he didn't answer his cell phone, he just blocked it and put it back in his pocket while he unlocked the car.

The flash drive was in an easy place, almost impossible to forget, unless you were so involved with a certain person that it took your mind out of orbit. And with a sideways smile he picked it up, but then he saw on the carpet of the car the Jimmy Tyrell bag with a faint glow inside as the parking lot lights hit its interior, and Aemond's mouth practically watered as he remembered the image of Y/n in those shorts and heels that morning.

And without thinking much, something he had already noticed was common when he was around her, Aemond took the bag and returned to the elevator with a mischievous smile.

Lizze and Sana were gossiping in whispers when the elevator door opened again and Aemond got out with Jimmy Tyrell's bag in hand. They both looked curiously, trying to see what was inside the bag without the boss noticing.

-Miss. Mayotte. Miss. Heyors. - Aemond began and both girls instantly froze. - They are both dismissed for today.

They both released the breath they had been holding after he spoke, as he continued walking to his own office, but before reaching the door Aemond stopped and turned around.

-One more thing, Miss. Mayotte… - They both tensed again upon hearing his voice, and Lizze almost began to hyperventilate at the mention of her own name, no matter how good-humored Aemond Targaryen seemed, it was never good to let her guard down. - It's good to know that I can trust someone who works so closely with me, I appreciate that, and as proof of this fact, you will receive a 10% raise.

Lizze's mouth dropped open. She had worked at that company for about three years and had never received a raise in her life, and now she got a 10% raise for gossiping. Aemond didn't wait for a response, he just went ahead and entered the office, leaving both secretaries with their jaws dropped.

-What the fuck? - Sana was in disbelief. - Did he just give you a raise?

-Apparently yes. – Lizze was still incredulous.

-And he released us from work almost an hour early? -Sana spoke robotically, looking at Lizze, who just nodded.

-I've never seen him in a good mood in my life. - Lizze murmured, still in shock.

-Did you see the bag in his hands? - Sana whispered. - I bet it's a gift for her.

-You were right, Sana. - Lizze said in shock, but slightly euphoric at knowing the truth. - The rumors are true.

❦❦❦

Viserys generally left the company early, he was much healthier but Rhaenyra insisted that he at least leave work early, and he had barely entered the mansion's door when Alicent angrily approached him, taking him towards the office already talking about Aemond and Y/n before even closing the door.

-This relationship between them is sick Viserys. - Alicent squealed exasperatedly. - Can't you see that this is not love? It's almost an obsession what one has for the other. Aemond didn't have any other girlfriend until Floris because in his mind he would be cheating on your niece if he did.

-But now he has, doesn't he? - Viserys asked impatiently. -Which means he's already gotten over this whole thing.

Alicent looked at the ground, quickly looking away from her husband when she heard that statement. But soon after, she regained her posture.

-What about your niece? Did she get over it?

-Alicent for seven. - Viserys put his hand on his forehead as he spoke. - I spoke to Y/n today and she assured me that she doesn't want to cause any problems, she's just going to work and continue taking care of her own life.

-And she can't do all this away from Kings Landing? - The woman asked, clapping her hands against her legs impatiently.

-Alicent… - Viserys sighed tiredly, as if the subject brought him physical pain.

-Viserys, you cannot be so foolish as to think it was a coincidence that Aemond disappeared shortly after she arrived in the city. - Alicent said, her eyes shining as she drummed her fingers on the table.

-He already told you that he didn't feel well, didn't he?

-It was a lie! Do you think I don't know when my children lie to me? - She hissed furiously.

Viserys preferred not to answer that specific question to avoid an even bigger argument with his wife.

-What do you want me to do Alicent? - Viserys asked his wife again, equally tired. - I told you, Y/n is of legal age and is no longer under my guardianship. I no longer control what she does or doesn't do.

-So Cancel her credit cards! - Alicent demanded irritably. - She depends on your money, she will obey you if you leave her without funds.

-Alicent, I can't leave her without money. - Viserys protested. - Besides, Daemon sends her money too, she wouldn't be so affected if I removed the credit cards.

Viserys also chose not to mention to his wife the fact that he had promised to invest directly in his niece's business idea.

-Listen, husband. - Alicent rested her hands on the table top. - I know that in your family certain things are considered normal. But not mine! I will not accept my son marrying a direct cousin, this will only happen over my corpse Viserys! - She stated vehemently before leaving her husband's office, slamming the door behind her.

❦❦❦

Y/n had her back to the door when Aemond returned, she was sitting once again in the armchair that faced his table, and without her noticing the bag he just placed it next to a pot with a plant that was close to the door already heading towards the table once more.

-What are you doing? -He raised his eyebrows when he saw her with some papers on the table, but as he got closer he could see that she was drawing and smiled.

-I had a sudden inspiration and I needed to draw so I wouldn't forget. - She said excitedly as she scribbled a dress on paper. - It's just a sketch, I'll improve it later.

She shrugged, biting her lower lip as she continued to place the details she had imagined in the sketch. Aemond nodded as she sat down once again, already connecting the flash drive to the computer.

-It's looking great for me.

Y/n smiled in the middle of the drawing when she heard the compliment, and just continued to scribble and Aemond couldn't help but be distracted by watching the way she drew lines with such ease, making the drawing better and better and more vivid, always enchanted him.

And with a sigh he finally looked from the computer and went back to work. Almost an hour later he managed to meet the goal he had set for that day, while Y/n made a list of things she would need to resolve in the coming weeks. Aemond stood up and put his laptop back in his briefcase once again, while Y/n handed him the papers she had used to take notes and draw her ideas, in a silent request for him to keep them.

She then walked towards Aemond with that cat-like smile that made his chest burn with heat.

-You know, I was marking out everything I'm going to need to do in the next few days and I realized that I'm going to be very busy. -She ran her fingers slowly over his chest as he approached. - And I know you're very busy too. -She spoke softly while looking at him with those bright eyes, while she clung more and more to him. - I'm thinking about taking this weekend just for the two of us.

-Mmnn. - Aemond just murmured in response as he listened to her speak.

-We could go to Lys. For the private side of the island where photography is prohibited, no cell phones, no Internet, no one would see us. -She whispered close to his ear. - I want to have a little more of you just for me. Without anyone bothering you.

-I have a lot of work. -Aemond spoke in a hoarse voice as he firmly grabbed her waist.

-Come on Aem. - She whispered, hanging around his neck while distributing kisses and sucks. -It's weekend. - Y/n then stood on tiptoe and sucked his earlobe. - Please Aem. I swear I won't bother you again this week. - She practically begged, purring into his ear as he held her around her waist tighter and tighter.

-Please. - She asked, looking into his eyes after trailing sweet, wet kisses down his jaw to his lips. And Aemond lifted her off the floor without warning and sat her on the table, making her almost scream amidst her laughter. And Y/n instantly crossed her legs against his hips, pulling him even closer.

-Alright, but only the weekend. - He said, rubbing his nose against hers, which immediately opened the most beautiful smile Aemond had ever seen in his life.

-Really? - She asked, holding his face between her palms and when Aemond nodded, Y/n automatically covered him with kisses while laughing. - It's going to be the best weekend ever.

Aemond nodded as he trailed kisses down Y/n's neck with a slight smile on his lips, already moving his hands up from her hips to the hem of her shorts and pulling her shirt off. Aemond long fingers removed button by button from the buttonholes until the shirt was completely open in front, leaving Y/n's breasts exposed to him with the sapphire necklace hanging between them.

He stopped for a few moments to admire her and Y/n barely waited before pulling him towards her again, kissing his lips fervently.

-Wait just a second. - Aemond spoke almost breathlessly as he slowly walked away from Y/n who was looking at him confused. The older man then went towards the bag and pulled the heels from inside, taking them to Y/n who bit her lower lip when she saw Aemond's malicious smile and what he had in his hands.

Without saying anything he bent down in front of her, and unfastened the side buckle of her left sandal, slowly removing it and leaving a soft kiss on her calf before placing the heel on her foot, making her sigh. Soon after, he did the same thing with his right foot and she caught her breath, Y/n couldn't understand why any simple act by Aemond seemed so erotic.

-Ready. - He said, standing up again and kissing her again, Y/n made to let the black shirt slip off her shoulders, but Aemond stopped her, muttering in disapproval as he pulled the shirt back into place.

-Leave it like that for me. - He whispered against her ear. - You have no idea how hot you look wearing my clothes.

-Do you know how difficult it was to spend the day working and working while you were in front of me in those clothes? - He bit her ear while speaking. - The only thing I was thinking about was how I would like to rip those shorts off you and fuck you into oblivion.

-So do it! - She practically begged as she pulled Aemond closer to her by the sides of his jacket. - Please Aem, fuck me.

Y/n rubbed against him like a sly cat eager for touch, and Aemond unbuckled her belt and shorts, getting down from the table and pulling her shorts down, he then felt his mouth water when he realized that Y/n wasn't wearing anything underneath. of clothes.

-Weren't you wearing anything underneath all day? - His voice sounded practically like a growl, and Y/n just smiled mischievously as she slowly shook her head, biting her lower lip, making Aemond moan and pull her into a kiss.

-Whore. - He murmured softly against her lips and Y/n smiled proudly, biting Aemond's lower lip and pulling it slightly, making him moan with satisfaction, while lifting her up once again and laying her on the table with an absolutely malicious look on her face.

-Open those beautiful legs for me. -Aemond practically purred as he admired her lying half-naked on her office desk, and Y/n almost promptly opened her legs gently for him, not even blushing at the action as she stared at Aemond with eyes dark with desire.

Aemond held her by the thighs, carefully caressing the area, and then he took his hands to her intimacy, letting his fingers gently caress the lips of her pussy, Y/n was so wet that he could see the moisture even on the outside of her intimacy. . And then he opened her gently, letting out a sigh at the sight before him, her delicious wetness oozing out as her vaginal canal pressed against nothing making even more grooves flow out. Aemond brought his fingertips there and gently rubbed from the entrance to the clitoris, dragging the moisture there as he admired in wonder while Y/n shuddered.

-Fuck how I missed that cunt. - Aemond practically groaned before leaning forward and sucking her clitoris eagerly, making her moan and hold onto his hair tightly.

-I wanted you all day too. - She sighed as she rolled her eyes in pleasure and crossed her legs over Aemond's neck, making him pant against her pussy as he felt her heels against his back.

He ran his tongue even more eagerly inside Y/n with even more effort when he felt the sting caused by her shoes making her tremble uncontrollably on the table while she shamelessly rubbed herself against his face begging for more. His strong hands firmly held her thighs open for him, and Y/n whimpered and moaned, pulling Aemond's hair eagerly as she felt her entire body go out of control as the feeling of pleasure took over her body and Aemond ate her through the orgasm leaving her breathless, unable to say anything other than his name.

-I love your taste. - He sighed, leaving a kiss on Y/n's right thigh and moving away from her, who was still shaking uncontrollably after the wave of pleasure. - I love the sounds you make when I'm between your legs. - His eyes were dark as he stared at her hungrily.

- You know that, you know that if I could I would leave you like this. - He took his hands to her nipples and squeezed them, making her gasp. - Naked and with her legs spread on the table in my office, so I could have you whenever I wanted.

-I would stay. - She promised, standing up on her arms. - It would stay and it would be good for you. - Y/n nodded positively looking at Aemond with her eyes shining. - I would do everything you told me to do.

And losing what little patience he had left, he pulled her by the thighs, taking her off the table and turning her back towards him.

-Do you know what I want now? - He growled in her ear and Y/n felt her legs give out, having to lean on the table to stand up, and she just shook her head and lost her breath once again when Aemond turned her to face him with just an impulse.

-I want those beautiful lips wrapped around my cock. - He grunted with his face almost glued to hers and Y/n nodded positively, almost anxiously. - On your knees!

Aemond didn't need to say it twice, he had barely ordered it and Y/n was already falling on her knees in front of him ready to take him.

-Always so anxious. - He rolled his eyes, caressing her lower lip with his thumb and Y/n, who was looking at him from under her eyelashes with that look of false innocence that killed him, just stuck out her tongue and gently licked his finger.

-Whore. - He practically spat out the words as he grabbed her by the jaw and looked at her with eyes dark with desire, losing his mind even more when he saw a malicious smile take over Y/n's lips as she slowly brought her hands to his belt, removing it with Careful. She then released the button on his pants and pulled them just enough to release Aemond's dick to herself, Y/n then licked her palms and still facing him began to massage his dick from base to tip in the way she knew how. which he liked.

-By seven you drive me crazy! - Aemond grunted before sitting down on the chair and pulling Y/n next to him. The sight of her kneeling before him wearing only those damn silver heels, the sapphire necklace around her neck and his shirt hanging around her shoulders as she stared at him with eyes dark with desire almost killed him.

And without saying anything Y/n cradled him again in her hands and took him to her mouth after so long without tasting him, moaning with satisfaction when she felt the taste of Aemond again on the tip of her tongue. She guided her tongue along the long vein that ran beneath his length and then sucked on the tip making him moan in satisfaction under her touch.

Y/n felt satisfaction come over her as she took him in her mouth, she looked up and almost moaned when she saw the expression of pure satisfaction in Aemond's eyes as he had his head thrown back on the back of the chair as he enjoyed every touch of her. And when Y/n started to pick up speed, taking him almost entirely in her mouth while massaging the part that didn't fit, Aemond placed his hands on her head, guiding the rhythm while now looking into her eyes without wavering.

-So fucking good for me. - He caressed her face with his thumbs as he spoke. - Such a sweet little mouth.

With each moan she made against his cock, Aemond had to work harder not to cum. Every moment he looked into those eyes full of desire he almost lost control over his own body. And grunting a filthy swear word that made Y/n moan he pulled her off his dick leaving her confused.

-No. - Y/n protested, trying to take him in her mouth again. – I want to make you come.

-Not yet, Your Highness. - Aemond murmured, getting up from the chair and pulling her towards him. - You know things aren't always the way we want them to be.

Y/n gasped when he turned her back to him in one fell swoop, pinning her against the table and leaning her over it again.

-Now be good and be silent. - He whispered against Y/n's ear while pressing himself against her back, who just nodded, whimpering in anticipation.

Aemond then took his hand to the base of his own cock and guided it to Y/n's entrance, rubbing it gently through the folds in a silent tease before penetrating her. And Y/n, when she felt it, dug her fingers into the edge of the table hard as if she needed to keep herself anchored to something to avoid falling off a cliff.

-Always accepting me so well. - He panted heavily as he kissed the back of her neck, and when he lowered his eyes he could see his initials embroidered on the collar of his shirt, letting out a grunt of satisfaction as he pulled the shirt enough to bite Y/n's shoulder. - Letting me take you anywhere.

-Always Aem. - She whimpered at him, dragging him further into the frenzy.

-Such a good cunt. Just mine. -And amidst moans and dirty words Aemond began to fuck her pussy with fervor, the table creaked across the wooden floor and Y/n couldn't contain the sounds that came out of his mouth no matter how hard he tried. Her suppressed moans echoed through the room and Aemond smiled against her neck as he heard them, always proud of the sweet sounds she made for him.

-Being quiet has never been your strong suit, hasn't it, love? - He murmured to her. - Always making these delicious sounds for me. So perfect.

Y/n felt tears in her eyes, she felt her whole body heating up, she felt like her heart was going to come out of her mouth. Aemond's voice destroyed her on its own, combined with her touches there was no chance for her. Each thrust of his took her closer to the end, with each gentle movement of his fingers against her sensitive nipples and she saw more stars, with each kiss he left on her neck and she felt closer to falling.

-Please Aem. - She begged looking back. - Give me more.

Aemond felt crazy, with no control over his own body, the only thing on his mind was Y/n and how delicious her body felt against his. And going deeper and deeper inside her he felt an uncontrollable pressure in his lower abdomen and spilled himself inside her in thick ropes while panting close to Y/n's ear, squeezing her waist tightly and whispering softly how good she was and how she was the only one who made him feel this way. And with those words and that feeling, Y/n came undone against Aemond's dick, shaking and whimpering his name without control.

After Y/n came bent over Aemond's office desk, he still panting over her trembling body spoke softly against the shell of her ear with his voice slurred by pleasure as he left a soft kiss there.

-I warned you that I never make threats that I don't intend to carry out.

tag list: @afro-hispwriter @fan-goddess @strangersunghoon

Next chapter

[sixlane]

@croptopjames submission | 1.5k words | NSFW - dom/sub, praise, degradation, spanking, gagging

Dedicating this to euge @ecstarry for brainrotting with me and lune @sommerregenjuniluft because we talked about dancer james once. Love you guys <3

Regulus walks the length of the studio assessing the attire of his dancers. He has a strict policy of professionalism that he makes no exceptions for, and James has been pushing his luck recently. 

He had hired James as an apprentice only a few months ago, but he was already regretting the decision. Not because of James’ abilities, but because of his utter lack of respect. 

James is a brilliant dancer, don’t get him wrong. He came from the most prestigious modern dance conservatory in the country, and Regulus had managed to sign him right out of school. 

He’s inclined to say James wasn’t worth the work, but that wouldn’t be completely true. He may make Regulus’ life a living hell, but he’s fucking gorgeous on stage, all lean muscles and strong lines. It’s captivating to watch, even more so when he gets to see it up close. 

As Regulus makes his way across the room, he catches sight of James in the back sporting gray joggers and— he has to take a minute to register what he’s seeing. Is that a fucking crop top? 

James just flashes a knowing smirk, staring Regulus down. He’s been called out for wardrobe infractions at least three times this month, and it’s starting to get old. 

“Sirius,” Regulus calls out to his brother, but more importantly, his rehearsal director. “Can you start the warm up? I need to have a word with Potter.”

A few snickers sound throughout the studio because his employees can be fucking children sometimes, and Sirius nods, getting up from his spot on the floor. 

Regulus turns toward the door, knowing James will follow him, and makes his way to his office down the hall. 

He only has to stand behind his desk for a minute, arms crossed, before James waltzes in, closing the door behind him. 

“This is grossly unprofessional, you do realize that,” Regulus deadpans. 

“I do realize that,” James responds innocently, batting his lashes. 

Regulus runs his eyes over the man standing in front of him, something he didn’t want to do in front of everyone in the studio. 

The top hits a few inches above his navel and exposes the soft lines of his abs and a stripe of dark hair that trails beneath his joggers. 

“Eyes up here,” James says, bringing Regulus’ attention back to the matter at hand. 

He gives James a stern look and leans forward on his desk.

“How many times do I have to tell you this won’t be tolerated in my company?” he asks. 

James’ eyes darken and he leans forward to mirror Regulus. “Not sure. Will you tell me again?”

The audacity of this man… Well, Regulus thinks, maybe it’ll stick this time. 

He reaches across the table casually, stroking a hand across James’ face. The dancer leans into it, fluttering his eyes shut for a moment, before Regulus reaches around his head to grab a fistful of his hair.

James opens his eyes and a slanted smile pulls at his mouth.

“Keep your hands on the table,” Regulus says before pushing James’ head down onto his desk. “Don’t move.”

James goes willingly, bending in half over the desk like a dream.

Regulus walks around to stand behind him, admires the curve of his ass and the ridges of his spine where they’re exposed under his shirt. He runs his fingers over them, eliciting a small shiver from James.

Regulus dips his hands into the waistband of James’ joggers, sinking his nails into the soft skin, before roughly pushing his pants down around his ankles.

James’ breathing picks up, his anticipation getting the better of him. Regulus would love to draw this out, but he’s afraid he hasn’t got the time today.

He smacks James’ ass once, causing the other man to jolt and let out a soft whine.

“Stay quiet,” Regulus commands.

James nods in confirmation. A lie, most likely.

Regulus lets a finger wander through the cleft of James’ ass, circling his rim in slow and deliberate movements. He keeps his eyes on James’ face where it’s pressed against his desk. His eyes are shut, mouth open. 

“You’re so pretty like this,” Regulus says. “When you’re not talking back to me.”

James makes a needy noise pressing his hips back onto Regulus’ finger, searching for a fullness he knows is coming.

Regulus smacks him again across the same spot as before. “Don’t get greedy. You know how this works.”

James nods again looking at Regulus now. His pupils are absolutely blown and it’s all Regulus can think about. The desperate want in his eyes.

“Tell me,” Regulus instructs.

James rolls his eyes back as he starts to lightly circle his rim again.

“Words, James.”

“You’re in charge,” James breathes.

“And I can do whatever I want with you,” Regulus adds.

“Whatever you want.”

“Good boy.” Regulus pulls his hand away again, but James doesn’t get a chance to protest before it’s being pushed into his mouth. “Now suck.”

James moans around his fingers, hollowing his cheeks and making a show out of it. He knows this undoes Regulus every time, watching as he listens so well, follows every command. It’s a high he’ll be riding for the rest of rehearsal.

“That’s right baby, get them nice and wet for me,” Regulus praises, bringing his other hand up to grab at James’ hip, keep him from moving too much.

When spit starts to drip down his chin, Regulus pulls his fingers away, and the noise James makes is fucking filthy. A keen he’s sure the whole company just heard, and that just won’t fly. 

Regulus moves his hand from James’ hip up into his hair, yanking him back until he’s hovering above the desk.

“James, what did I fucking say,” Regulus hisses. “Do you need something in your mouth? Hm? Such a slut for it you can’t follow simple directions?”

James moans loudly, a please falling from his lips somewhere in there.

Regulus releases him and he falls back onto the desk with a whine. 

Going back around his desk, Regulus fishes through his bottom drawer with his clean hand, finding what he’s looking for. A dress code appropriate t-shirt he keeps for times like these, when James just can’t help himself. He shoves it in James’ mouth harshly then pats him on the cheek. 

“There you go baby. Now you can tell me just how much you like it.”

And James does without a second thought, immediately filling the room with muffled noises.

Regulus resumes his position behind the dancer, running his spit-slick fingers against James’ hole.

“Ready?” He asks.

James is a mess, barely there at this point even though Regulus hasn’t even done anything, but he nods anyway, and Regulus pushes a finger in slowly.

“Always so tight for me baby.”

“Mmph,” James moans around the shirt. He tries to fuck his hips forward into nothing, desperate for some friction against his neglected cock, but Regulus holds him still. He should know by now that he’ll stay untouched until Regulus allows it.

Once he feels James is ready, he adds another finger, leaning down to spit into the place where they slide into James. He increases the speed, crooking them to brush the spot that reduces James to a moaning mess. 

He sees James’ eyes roll back again as he makes a muffled sound, so debauched and fucked out already. 

For the first time, Regulus notices his own wetness pooling in his briefs, but he ignores it. This isn’t about him.

“Can you be a good boy and take another,” Regulus asks, and James nods enthusiastically. If he wasn't gagged, Regulus knows he’d be begging, has heard it enough times to memorize the sound.

Regulus pulls out completely, watching James’ hole flutter briefly around nothing, before pushing three fingers back in.

James balls his fists against the desk, barely moving his hips, trying so hard to be good. Regulus decides to cut him some slack.

“Fuck yourself on them baby, it’s okay.”

James obeys immediately, pushing his hips back wildly and making ungodly sounds that he wishes he could hear unobstructed. 

Caught up in the image of James losing control, Regulus reaches around to touch his neglected cock where it’s been leaking onto the floor. He collects the precome beading at the tip to soften the slide, and pumps James slowly in time with the movement of his hips.

“You close? Gonna come for me?” Regulus asks, sugar sweet.

James barely responds, but the crease between his eyebrows gives him away. Regulus knows it means he’s heading toward the edge of the cliff.

Quickly, before it’s too late, Regulus pulls his hand away, pulls his fingers out, leaving James empty and neglected once again.

He smacks James’s ass roughly, then digs his fingers into the flesh, punishing.

Leaning forward, he puts his mouth right up against James’ ear, “Only good boys get to come, James. I expect you back in rehearsal in five minutes wearing that shirt in your mouth.”

James sobs into the fabric, ruined and undoubtedly aching, and Regulus leaves him there to clean himself up.

Maybe this time he’ll finally learn his lesson.

[sunshinegirl29]

Petrichor

SO hi! This is the first smut I've written in 5 years. So I'm sorry if it's a little dodgy. Anyway, it was raining when I wrote this, hence the imagery!

Summary: A rainy day, coffee between friends leads to something more, but it's not always that simple with Spencer.

Pairings: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: swearing, smut, alcohol.

I'd love to hear some feedback xo

-------

You learned in Art History class, that hands were the hardest thing for an artist to master.  His were slender and gentle; caressing the words on the page, brow pinched in concentration. His nails, trimmed, cuticles soft and small. That was Spencer, most things about him were put together and careful to a point.  He rubs the heel of one into the hollow of his eye, squints and continues to absorb the words of his novel like patterns on a lover’s skin.

A simple cough catches your attention and you blink slowly, coming to from your reverie.

“Are you okay?”

Alex Blake’s tone is soft and low. She’s gentle and warm, chocolate brown eyes swimming with concern.  An answer doesn’t come at first; what words would you choose? You couldn’t look her in the eye and call it what it was.

“Tired, you know? Tough case.”

Your words wither like dry leaves under her gaze. Alex you’d learnt early on, held them in high regard – the way they stretch and curl and hold more weight than you realise.  But she doesn’t push and squeezes your shoulder, before resting back against her seat.  You glance back toward Spencer once more.  His eyes closed, soft brown rivulets curl behind his ears, messy against the small pillow he never leaves home without.

A small breath hitches as you eye his collar, the usually tight purple tie is broken and free from the confines of the material.  It reveals the innocent edges of bare skin, and your stomach feels like a knot in a chain. The tighter it gets, the harder it is to take apart.  You allow the thoughts to flow unfiltered for a moment longer, wondering how he’d react to your touch, both palms pressed to his chest, your lips mapping a path of devotion on his skin.

Then the jet rumbles its warning and you breathe again. Slippery hands grip the sides of the seat and the jet tips, shaking the dredges of cold coffee from your abandoned mug.

The next day, it rained. You wake to the sound of it, watery fingertips tapping a beat on the conservatory roof; you’d fallen asleep there, drowning in dreams of soft touches and stuttering breaths.  You wipe sweat from your chest and pad on bare feet into the small kitchen, working through neglected pots and pans to find your Sunday morning mug teetering on the edge of the kitchen island. 

“There you are.” You hum smiling around the imperfect rim, inhaling the rich black coffee that had become a tradition over the last few months. You spend the next few hours, cleaning the skeletons of the last week off the floor; being away from your cosy suburban home most of the week left little time for housework and it was about time.

The kitchen was pristine by the time the sky had given way to heavy biblical rain; the windows misty with condensation.  It didn’t take long for the house to fill with the familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee once more as you hum to the radio and sway in between sips.  The music trickles into something slower, sensual and you smooth your hands into your hair and remove the tie, letting it hang loose instead.  Hips sway in slick circles as you lean back into the counter, running your hand along its wood grain as if a broad back or the gentle slope of his neck.   The chain knot is back, low in your stomach, tightening with every move.  The island bites into your back as you slide across it, a hand ghosting the bare expanse of your leg and into the waist band of your shorts.  It’s slow at first, the image that comes; he’s sitting cross legged on the floor, books piled up around him and a discarded coffee in the wings.

 Spencer holds books like you imagine he’d hold a lover, careful but with meaning and unbridled need.  His soft fingers dance on the page, mirroring yours in short circles, short gasps as he finds a lead hidden within the letters.  He knocks a book with his foot, rearranging his position on the floor and the muscles in lean arms twist when he gets to his knees. Your own sock clad feet crush the rug beneath them as the feeling builds.  Spencer reaches for a new coffee, but jumps at the heat sending liquid down his chin. He wipes it from his lips with an index finger, dipping it into his mouth savouring its rich sweetness.  This image alone was enough to tip you over the edge, waves crash and ebb leaving you panting and spent on the kitchen floor.

It's then that the murderous cry of your cell phone shatters the post orgasm comfort, shocking you into rising from the floor on unsteady legs.  It’s screams for attention from the couch, buried in pillows and a neatly folded blanket that’s thrown to the floor in frustration.

“For god’s sake I—”

Hotch’s name lights up the screen and it’s like ice water down your back.

“Hello?” you cough, attempting to cover any signs of breathlessness but he doesn’t bother a greeting; “we have a case, local, bad – Spencer will pick you up on the way, be ready in an hour.”

In a world with boundaries, you could say no; that you spend sometimes fourteen-hour days, six days a week on cases and you were owed at least one day to rest. But the shining reward gives you pause at the entrance to your bedroom. Spencer will pick you up.  You dress and return to the bright and airy front room to pace in anticipation, the sweet delay.

 

Out the window you watch as rain rushes down the street, lifting leaves and litter from pregnant drains. They disappear as a black SUV pulls up, he’s early. You half expect him to blare the horn but he slips from the driver’s seat and runs up wet steps, sliding a little before coming to stop.  Greed urges you to answer the door, but you hold steady waiting patiently for him to knock – which he does, neat and direct.

The wind blows spatters of muddy water on the oak floors as you open the door. Spencer waits politely for invitation which you readily provide him, instinctually grabbing his bicep to shelter him from the pouring rain.

“Sorry—hi.” He stammers, gesturing at the puddle that follows him in like an obedient dog.

“It’s okay, it’s horrendous out there!” you huff a nervous laugh and twist back toward him, he’s closer than you’d anticipated and you have to look up to drink him in

His hair curls with rain, dripping onto the dark wool of his coat. His lips part and close slowly, as if wanting to confess a lie but nothing comes.  You swallow thickly, daring a look at his mouth for a needy second before coming back to his hazel eyes.  They hold a weight with an unknown name and dart away, the burgeoning anticipation ebbing slowly.

The growing silence lingers on for a few more seconds before he steps back, wiping both hands down his coat, looking anywhere but you.

“We have a case.” His voice ticks up and he coughs, wrapping those long fingers around his opposite wrist.

“Yeah, Hotch said.” You beckon him to the kitchen in an attempt to defuse the tension. “Know anything about it?” He crosses the room in two strides, the kitchen island a wedge between you.

The BAU had been your home for six months and after a few growing pains you fit in nicely, spending slow evenings in Penelope’s apartment and even began to get Aaron to smile now and again. Spencer though had been slow to trust, not that you blamed him but eventually he began to thaw. His shield of intelligence had melted into trickles of kindness that leaked into your life; he’d have your favourite mug filled with black coffee how you liked. After particularly hard cases he’d taken to sharing half his blanket and somehow a luxury pastry ended up on your breakfast plate before landing each time.

“Yeah, a home invasion homicide, mother and two children both dead. Did you know, the odds of being killed in your own home by a stranger are dependent on gender! With twenty one percent being men and only twelve percent being women.” Spencer smiles, in his element leaning into the counter. A heartbeat goes by before you note where he stands. Only an hour earlier you sat alone with fingers buried deep in your shorts, panting and writhing against the tile, all for him – its almost too much to bear.

 The carafe rattles imperceptibly against the mug, you fill it with sweet coffee for him without thinking;

“Are you alright?” it’s evident you can’t escape a profiler’s eye “if it’s what I said I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, the odds are—”

“It’s fine Spence, here you look like you need it.” You’re brutally aware that you’re rambling and he doesn’t miss a beat, but graciously doesn’t press any further. Instead, he takes a sip of the coffee, humming contentedly. The small noise starts a raging desire that burns through your blood.

“This is great coffee. You know, coffee is a language in itself...”

He walks around, coming to rest opposite you without the barrier of the island.  You’re drunk on the scent of damp clean hair and faint cologne, it’s a force you have no name for that fills your chest, fuelling the beat that matches the way panicked rain hits the windows behind your head.

“What’s it telling you?” You whisper, looking up into a blown-out gaze.

It was in your nature to burry intense feelings, but you wonder if he can see it all over your face, the pure naked wanting. 

Suddenly aware of his animal warmth much closer now. The knotted chain pulls tighter, burning low and you press your thighs together for any scrap of relief.  He doesn’t say anything and for a slow second you worry you’ve misread the situation. But any reservations die as Spencer reaches for the mug in your hands with the soft fingers you’d mused over so much in the last few days. He takes it from your hand, placing it on the sink behind you absentmindedly.

““Spence…” you plead, body trembling as his gaze covers your face, asking...

The first brush against you is chaste, a whisper of a kiss that barely touches the skin, it’s almost as if he breathes across your upper lip. He pulls back, barely, just enough to lay a question between you.

“Please.”

You step into him as the first rolls of thunder come in. Damp ropes of hair drag across your face and you can’t hold back from touching it, pushing it back like water. You anchor yourself to it when he kisses you again, just as brief but more firm, lingering against your mouth.  

“Is this okay?”

His question is lost on your lips as you grasp the damp collar of his coat and pull him down toward you, swallowing his yelp with a deep kiss; it feeds the hunger for him and you can’t help but moan into his mouth, savouring the sweetness.

You’re nothing but him, drowning in the press of his lips, so soft and strong as you lick into his mouth, surprised by the strength he uses to lift you up onto the biting edge of the counter.

His fingers arch around the side of your neck bringing you back to his mouth like a man starved; your free hand that isn’t wound in his curls sears a path along his neck, diving into his shirt.  He’s muttering something, you suspect a flustered fact about pathogens and almost laugh, but you can only feel the syllables of hot and wet before he jerks so violently your lips wrench away from his.

You both freeze. One hand in his hair, the other on his chest, his own still grasp the swell of your ass.

“I don’t normally do this.” He stammers again, taking a shaky step backwards and you mourn the loss of him. The heat that simmered low between your legs is doused in shame.

“Don’t, don’t do tha---” 

Your words die in your throat as his cell phone screams from his coat pocket, sending him away from you, a crease of concern between his brows.

“Okay, we’re leaving now. Thanks Morgan.”

Spencer glances at you, as if waiting for a scolding – it doesn’t come.  You just sigh, letting him sweat in silence; his mouth is swollen, both cheeks flushed in an uncharacteristic bloom of colour. You gaze at him despite yourself, a sad smile passing your lips.

“Spence..” you press, striding forward to meet him.

You reach for him, tugging on the sleeve of his damp coat like a child.  He shakes his head ever so slightly, but grasps your fingers gently in his own anyway.  

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles into your hair, releasing your hand with a small squeeze.

“Are you..” you sigh, not bothering to wait for an answer before heading out and into the rain.

>

 

 

By the time you arrive back at Quantico rage had made its home in your gut.  Rage at him, because how dare he kiss you out the blue, in your own home and run off like he’d been burned. JJ is the first to notice when you speed from the car, barely putting it in park before slamming the door and standing at her side.   

“Everything, okay?” She whispers, eyeing you and a jittery Spencer who’s pointedly staring anywhere else. 

“You know, working on a Sunday sucks,” You huff, glancing at her before turning toward him  “and the middle of the day too, it’s almost as if you thought you’d get one thing, but ended up being sorely disappointed.”

A beat of dead silence passes but no one gets to push the subject. Hotch appears from the SUV with a peaky looking Rossi at his side, the case had been brutal and a complete bust – two children and a mother dead with a missing top suspect and a suspicious Grandfather to boot.  No one liked going home empty handed and it showed.

“Thank you everyone, I’m sorry to call you in on your day off. Finish off your paperwork and take tomorrow to yourselves. You earned it.” you almost hugged him, the ever stoic Aaron Hotchner, but instead followed the rest of the team inside toward Penelope who waits with freshly baked goods and an award winning smile.

“Hello my heroes! I bare the sweetest of treats and that’s just on the plate--”  she laughs, cut off but Aaron who pats her gently before swiping a Danish and disappearing into his office. Penelope’s keen eyes miss nothing – not the way Spencer whips past the others, muttering about callings his mother, not the way your own eyes follow him until he disappears.

“Hey gorgeous, cinnamon roll?” Penny smiles and you look at her at last, gratefully taking the gift – a sweet cushion to the bitter blow of Spencer’s rejection.

“I know it’s none of my business” Penny starts, walking toward your office side by side. You shoot her a withering look, knowing that it wouldn’t matter if it was her business or not – Penelope needed to know things.  But in a painful reality, there was nothing to know and there never would be, not now, not after this.

“Working on a Sunday.. not what I had planned! Thanks for the treats, I’ll see you.” You smile, putting on the brightest facade of happiness before fleeing into the unpersecuted safety of your office.

_

On the last day of the month you take the train downtown. The sharp November air slices the bare skin of your legs as you head into the depths of the city; the Saturday evening buzz is strong and floods of intoxicated partygoers filter in and out of clubs on each side of the street.  The claustrophobia thins out as you approach the affluent section of the city; harsh neon lights fade into comforting warm candlelight, they reflect gently against the black gloss of Emily’s hair as she stands in the sheltered awning of the Gilded Lilly.  You linger under the guise of adjusting your shoes and observe her for a moment; a lighter sparks in the dark, long inhale, a long exhale – the first curl of smoke, grey against black.

“Over here!” She calls your name, waving a gentle hand to beckon you forward.

She looks different, her cheeks are pink and her dark hair falls softly around her face, flushed and girlish and completely alive,

“You’re wearing a dress?!” You grin at her not so typical outfit and squeeze at her hand, readily accepting the invitation inside.

The polarising temperature is gratefully welcomed and you can’t repress a comforting hum as feeling comes back to your toes and hands. Emily chatters absentmindedly, pulling you by the wrist toward the bar where an opulently dressed man prepares a drink with loving precision and for a moment panic sets in.  Emily, seemingly reading your mind, wraps her arm around your waist and huffs a laugh.

“These are on Rossi, this is his bar after all.”

 

A rich green path of marble leads you toward a large backroom where luscious velveteen couches surround solid oak tables and glistening chandeliers ricochet off art lined walls. You catch Rossi’s eye across the room and he smiles proudly.

“Kiddo! You made it!” he smells of faint cigars and expensive cologne when he envelopes you in a warm hug and tugs you down into the seat next to him. 

It takes you less than seconds to deduce they’d been drinking long before you arrived – Morgan’s laugh carried louder and farther than usual, thick and low with drink. JJ and Emily snuggled into the rounded corner, laughing with Garcia around elaborate cocktails. Rossi and Aaron, older and more demure than their younger counterparts are blurred slightly at the edges, both follow your eyes and catch them when you turn.

“Where’s Spencer?”

The anger had simmered comfortably under the surface for weeks since that day in your kitchen, your relationship never fitting back into the boundaries of friendship. Penelope tried her best to prod at the wound, egging for blood but nothing came, you couldn’t admit the rejection even to her.  The rest of the team sensed the mounting tension, but you waved away their concern with a decorative excuse and it seemed to placate them. 

“I’m not sure he’s coming kid..” Rossi sighs, patting your shoulder as if he knows something he shouldn’t.  “come on now, have some fun. Too much thinking isn’t good for anyone. Right Aaron?” Dave laughs, sliding a fresh cocktail to join the one Morgan and Emily bought you. 

Before long three more empty glasses join the others and it had started to get rowdy. The copious amounts of liquor had bounced straight from your head to your bladder, it forces you out of your seat and you climb awkwardly over a blushing Aaron who pointedly looks anywhere but the low neck and short skirt of your new dress. It’s then a sharp choking cough breaks the mounting tension;

“Spence..” you breathe, scrambling away from Aaron who’s face blanches like sour milk.

 He’s beautiful and still, spots of light rain litter his lambs wool coat like glass. 

“Spencer!” Garcia squeals, and at that moment you could have kissed her. Spencer's expression cracks open, a rare smile and even rarer hug.

You blink at that, still stunned slightly dumb at the sight of him.

“Good to see you kid! Let’s get you a drink!” Rossi cheers and then they’re gone, bundled off toward the distant bar.  

You stand silently for a minute, looking toward the hallway but turn at the sound of your name.

“So, are you going to tell us why pretty boy looks like he’s about to spontaneously combust every time you’re within fifty feet?” Morgan grins, smirking round a spectacular old fashioned.

You find yourself flinching at your own words, teeth clattering against the cold hard lie of;

“We had a disagreement that’s all. It’s nothing.”

 

It never really went away. You’d deliberately ignored the symptoms, but days and weeks went by and your craving for him never abated.  Despite the disappointment of his rejection you’re happy he’s here and begin to relax.

It’s smiles all around when you deposit drinks to each member of the team in turn, including Spencer who’s shed himself of his coat, revealing a grey herringbone cardigan and white shirt.   He doesn’t seem to notice you, he’s rambling about the origins of a Bloody Mary with unbridled passion and your heart melts like the ice in his glass.   Whether it’s the heightened buzz of multiple cocktails or not you decide it’s a question for tomorrow and a squeeze his arm;

It happens in slow motion, the way Spencer jumps.  The action sends the drink in your hands backwards and all over the front of your dress.

“What the hell?!” you gasp and stagger backward, taking a bunch of napkins from Emily who’s wide eyed along with the rest of the team who’ve lapped into uncomfortable silence.  

Spencer stammers, gawping like a fish out of water, flapping about the mess on the table which he wipes erratically without sparing your wet dress and thunderous expression a second glance.

Aaron and Rossi, no longer blurred by liquor mutter to each other in your peripheral.

“Care to tell me what the hell that was about?”  You’d had enough, weeks of icing each other out you thought he’d be receptive to your warmth but he says nothing instead.  You almost laugh;

“A man with an IQ of 187 and nothing to say. Typical.” You hiss, slamming down the glass, splashing the residual whisky onto his jumper.

Aaron stands, stepping toward you with a pleading expression and his jacket.  You ignore him, staring at Spencer who still doesn’t meet your eyes.

“Spence..” you plead and reach out but stop half way, thinking better of it. He seems to relax for a split second but visibly tenses when Aaron wraps his suit jacket around your shoulders.

You’re grateful for it’s warmth against your skin and step into it, pulling the inky black lapels around your exposed chest gratefully. 

“Come on. Let it go. I’ll call you a cab.” 

“Yeah.” Spencer snaps, his hazel eyes cutting, looks you and Aaron up and down “back to her place right?”

A collective intake of breath.  A sharp snap of heels against marble. You’re dragging him off the chair by his cardigan, nails dig into the lean flesh of his arm.  Rossi’s protests and Garcia’s high pitch yells are ignored and disappear as you shove a squirming Spencer out into street.

The sharp winter air ruffles Spencer’s hair, his back to you, pacing.  Your arms folded against the cold, stoic and thunderous.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” the echo of your breath comes out in plumes of white, hard and fast.  Spencer paces, large fingers curling into hard fists at his side.

“With me?” he squeaks, spinning to face you, honeyed eyes tear you in two . It’s almost a relief, a weight lifted as he finally sees you, holds your gaze for the first time in a month;

“You should look in the mirror.” He spits, the alcohol on his breath fanning your face; “throwing yourself over our boss because you can’t take rejection!”

It’s your turn to say nothing.  You do nothing but shake like a trapped bird, winged and frantic. Whatever your face conveys, Spencer’s is stiff, a stoic mask giving nothing away.  

“Yeah” you scoff, a wave of rage rising from your stomach hot and forceful “I see.”

How dare he make such a foul insinuation. You loved Aaron but wouldn’t cross that line, but Spencer didn’t need to know that.  It didn’t take a genius, clearly to realise what was really going on here and you almost laugh in his face.   

“See what exactly?” you’ve peaked his interest but hold steady.

He’s so close now, so close you don’t feel like one person anymore. Standing in place in the cold, gravitating toward his warmth.  Brown rivulets fall in pieces around his face like a shield. The heady smell of faint cologne and black coffee fill your nostrils when you close in on him, ignoring the blaring of sirens and faint chatter from across the street.

“It’s funny. Your tongue in my mouth didn’t seem like rejection to me. But who cares?” You breathe in shakily, emboldened by a heady cocktail of liquor and adrenaline grab his forearm. “I’m going home with Aaron, right Spence?”

“Right..” Spencer breathes and steps in close, the ice in his eyes seem to crack imperceptibly.

“He’s going to touch me. Is that okay with you?”  Spencer’s breath hitches as your voice purrs between you. He’s not running and the low throb between your legs begs for more.

“He’ll lay me down.” You continue, trailing numb fingers up his arms to come rest at his neck revelling in the way he trembles.  “he’ll taste me.”  Spencer moans; a breathy thing, barely heard, barely there. You sway, overtaken by the pleasure of such an innocent sound. 

  Spencer stutters your name more earnest, more desperate, and you aren’t even pretending to argue anymore. You lick your lips and almost catch his chin with your tongue and he moans again, breathy and begging. Begging for something, begging for you. 

“And you know what?” you giggle now, pressing flush against him and feel just how much this is effecting him too. “He might just make me cum..”

The remnants of your laugh drown in his kiss; it’s flooded with frustration, hungry and wanton and the confidence of it knocks you back. He tastes like whisky and something sweet and soft that echoes through your body like a hiss down your spine. Moaning into it you know he feels it in his tongue where it strokes against yours.  He snakes a long arm around your lower back and swings you closer, his other hand continues its path up your neck to grasp your jaw and it takes all your self control not to drop to your knees in public.   As if reading your mind, Spencer pulls away, flushed and panting and hails a cab;

“Where are we going?” You laugh, a breathy wisp like sound but don’t get answer until he rambles your address, shoving a bunch of tens to the cab driver and suddenly you’re back where it all started. 

 

You fall together in the dark, grappling with his coat and your shoes that he bends chivalrously to undo; the simple act elicits a moan from your lips that stops Spencer in his tracks and you can’t help but clench your thighs together for any scrap of friction.  Spencer isn’t unaffected by the wanton noise but surprises you with a smug chuckle and the slow trail of his fingers against the pad of your foot as he divests you of the stiletto.  It’s downright perverse, the jolt of pleasure that runs through your body, an erogenous zone only he would remember – damn that eidetic memory.

“Tell me” Spencer breathes out finally, adjusting his slacks with a pained grimace

“God, Spence..” you reach down and card a hand through his hair, suddenly shy “taste me..please.”

Spencer’s hands swallow your thighs, pushing your dress to sit around your waist.  Your pulse pounds with anticipation and nerves, but you don’t miss his reassuring smile.  Your nod of permission is all but lost against the wall when he dips a finger into the silky fabric of your underwear, just grazing you to pull the scrap of material to pool at your feet. 

“Oh...my god.” You cry out and pull in a breath at the first wet press of his soft mouth, you’d spent more time than you’d admit out-loud staring at his lips – round coffee cups and pens, imagining this very moment.  What you didn’t imagine is him being so damn good, the flat swipes of his tongue just where you need, the desperate sounds that vibrate against your clit.  It doesn’t take much time to push you toward the edge, teetering – but his strokes turn languid, earning him a choking groan.

“Please, don’t..” you moan and grasp and the hair you can reach, desperate to put him back to work “don’t stop now..”  a small wave of dread follows the memory him a few weeks earlier.

“I—I’m not.” He begins, you know him enough to see the nerves bubbling up amongst his arousal and step forward, reaching for the top of his waistband. Spencer’s throat jiggles, swallowing a squeak as you slip a hand into the fabric and choke on a gasp at what you find;

“Jesus...” He’s rock hard and thicker than you expected. It seems to embolden him, your reaction and his awkwardness is stifled to a small laugh that morphs into a groan of pleasure when you wrap a hand around him.  He whines, bucking against your hand and it makes you weak, the whimpers coming from his perfect lips fuel to the fire.

“I’m, not going to last.”  Spencer shimmies out your grasp, haloed by the moonlight pouring in from the uncovered window, tall and beautifully undone.

The first time you’d touched each other it’d been desperate, the way you came together , grappling for each other.  You remember his face before he kissed you for the first time, much like the one he wears now, slinking forward, capturing your lips in a heady kiss that doesn’t stop until you hit the edge of your unmade bed.  In another world, you’d be embarrassed at the chaos that hints to your unravelling but he’s turning you round to straddle him, both hands working expertly at the material of your dress. He’s impossibly hard and groans deeper than you’ve ever heard him and it shoots a bolt of pleasure so deep you ground down against him, ripping at the material of his shirt to marvel him.  Spencer wasn’t like Derek, but god your imagination never put the pieces together quite like this.

“You’re so damn beautiful” you gasp, not giving him time to respond more than a muffled groan as you shove him into the bed. You don’t wait for him to respond, a slave to the throb between your legs, it takes seconds to strip him of all barriers.  Spencer says nothing, his mind seems blank for the first time, you watch his honeyed eyes commit you to memory forever, the swell of your breasts, the taste of your skin and the intoxicating wetness that drenches his lap.

“Please, I need you..”  you beg, as if he has control, as if you’re not just seconds away from sinking onto him.

Your gasp is strangled when he juts upwards, burying himself to the hilt. You almost don’t recognise yourself the way you cry in between dirty kisses that cover his neck, something that Morgan would definitely pick up on later – the thought of everyone witnessing your claim on him, the way you’ve made him your own sparks something like wildfire in your gut it drives your forward and you meet him in sloppy bobs of your hips.

The action sends Spencer reeling, his cock slipping easily out of you and before you grieve the loss of pleasure he’s looming above you,  messy and wild and so fucking gorgeous it takes tremendous self control not to cry right there. 

“Is this okay?” Spencer asks, nuzzling his question into your neck, smoothing the tip of his nose up and under your ear, to place a short kiss. 

“God, yes please.” You gasp at the bite of pleasure soaked pain when he stretches you open, tortuously slow. 

Spencer was a late bloomer, you knew that, but at this moment, when his expert fingers deftly catch the edge of your clit you’d never believe it.  The exquisite friction causes you to whimper into his ear, tugging a little too hard on his hair that fans your face as he thrusts.  You’re stuttering something akin to a plea, but he doesn’t give in that easily.

“Use your words.”  Your brain short circuits for a second, watching him draw back from your neck, pupils blown out with lust “ communicate, that’s a good girl.”

Any words you’d conjured up in your head die in the water, engulfed in moan that you’re sure three houses down could hear.  Spencer folds then,  swallowing your moans in a bruising kiss.

“Make me cum Spence”  you purr, rifling through his hair with one hand, pawing at his clenching stomach with the other.  He rewards you with rumbling growl, his fingers finding your clit without effort, tight rapid circles that have you bucking into his thrusts, pushing the both of you closer to the edge. 

You can’t stop it, you don’t even want to, for once in your life you let go. It crests like a sea, flooding through you and Spencer who growls and bites down on the gentle slope of your shoulder. 

Spencer collapses against you, sweating and gasping in what you think is pleasure but you quickly realise he’s laughing.

“What’s so funny Mr 187?”  you can only guess, but ever the educator, doesn’t leave you in the dark for long, rolling away he snuggles into your side. 

“I can’t believe it.” He sighs, lush with the heavy weight of post orgasm sleep “I wanted to do that for so long..” 

You can feel his nervousness in the beat of your silence and have to keep yourself from squealing in excitement like a love struck teen.  You turn slowly, eyes shining with unshed emotion that you know he can see laid bare.

“Me too..” you sigh, entangling his fingers into yours, rolling over to hook his arm across your stomach “you’re so damn good. For a late bloomer..” you snigger, erupting into giggles when he nips at the back of your neck.  You clench your thighs at the pleasure and can’t ignore the hard weight of his already hard cock at your back, but instead follow Spencer into sleep, cradling each other like sunken lovers on the ocean floor. 

When the sun drenches your bedroom in hazy light do you let yourself remember, grinning as the weight of Spencer Reid’s naked body wriggles against your own.  You catch yourself, just for a second, imagining a distant future of endless morning of this, but your dreaming is eventually interrupted by the rapid pulsing of a vibrating cell phone.  Lurching your heavy body awkwardly across the bed you pick through discarded clothes and answer the 8th missed call from Aaron Hotchner.

“Reid, where are you? We have a case.”

 A beat passes, a slow second of horrendous silence. You’d answered Spencer’s phone by mistake. Letting out a deep breath, resigned to the fact this is how they’d all find out if they hadn’t guessed already.

“Sorry Hotch. We’ll be there.”

With that, without saying another word you hang up and throw the phone into the corner of the room like it burnt. 

“I hope you’re prepared to answer so many questions about my sexual performance when Garcia gets hold of this!”  Spencer laughs, and you debate giving him blue balls for not coming to your rescue sooner.  But the near constant buzzing of your own phone on the other side of the bed tells you in no uncertain terms that Garcia had been privy to your very brief phone call with Hotch, who undoubtedly told them all to behave but you know better. 

Later, in the crisp afternoon air do you hook Spencer’s fingers in your own, a small gesture of solidarity and intimacy you can tell he greatly appreciated. From the end of the hallway, you spot the team who twist in a hilarious synchronicity. 

Spencer squeezes your hand and you bring them up between you kissing interlocked fingers.

Art history class taught you that hands were the hardest thing to master, but you’d hold his forever.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 19 - Thunder

@jegulus-microfic October 19, Word count 116

A storm was coming. James could feel it. His shoulder always ached right before a storm hit. He’d fallen off his broom during a bad tackle during a Quidditch match and even though Madam Pomfrey had done a wonderful job of healing him, the shoulder still ached. He rotated it absentmindedly.

“Shoulder giving you jip, darling?” Regulus asked, coming up behind him and gently massaging the sore area. James moaned as Regulus’s clever fingers found the spot straight away. 

“Yeah, storms coming.” He sighed, melting into Regulus’s touch. 

“I’ll get the hot chocolate then,” Regulus said, leaning up and kissing James’s neck.

Regulus got them steaming mugs of James’s favourite hot chocolate while James went to set up the pull-out bed in the conservatory. 

They snuggled up together under thick, cosy blankets and listened to the thunder breaking the silence of the night while they waited for the lighting to come over as they stared up at the swirling clouds through the glass ceiling above them.  

[orangeheliophile]

Plants and agua

A/n! This was my first ever fic that I wrote, and I'm too lazy to reread it for errors! Huzzah!

Warnings: Fem!reader, cursing, clingy annoying Katsuki, Latina!reader. Not proofread, lmao.

Contains: Fluff, crack, Katsuki is a simp for reader, established relationship.

It was a regular Saturday morning. Early morning, to be exact. Your boyfriend Katsuki wanted to go on a date today to the nearby conservatory, meaning he wanted to go early so nobody would bother you. Except he was the one bothering you and your extremely comfortable bed.

Waking up with a yawn, you stretch your arms and legs. Sleepiness engulfs you, yet the sound of Katsuki gently knocking on your door brings you back to reality. Groaning, you rub your face, glancing over to the alarm on your bedside to see that it's currently 6:34 am. Why did your boyfriend have to wake you up so early?

Getting up from the comfortable bedsheets of your soft bed, your feet start to walk towards the door. Your hand clumsily grabs the doorknob, turning it to the side as your eyes meet with Katsuki. The blonde chuckles, having a small smile on his face as he leans on the doorframe and reaches his hand up to cup your cheek. "Good morning, sunshine." He whispers, pressing kisses onto your pouty lips and adorable cheeks repeatedly.

You whine a bit, trying to act upset but failing as your boyfriends wet smooches tickle your face. "Kacchan, stop! Good morning to you, too..." You giggle, keeping your voice to a whisper in order not to wake your classmates. The blonde only grins in response, his cherry red eyes wandering down to your outfit as he raises his eyebrows in amusement. You're wearing a dino shirt with a spaceship and a cactus, with a pair of spiderman pajama pants. You blush in embarrassment, a tired smile on your face as you rub the back of your neck.

"Nice pajamas, princess. It makes you look..." Katsuki trails off, a few snickers slipping out as you whine and drag him by his collar inside your dorm. "Shhh... My fashion sense is amazing." You mumble, a smile growing on your lips as you giggle and stare at your feet. "Why do you have to wake me up so early? The conservatory opens at 10!" Your boyfriend shrugs, a smug look on his face as he leans down and bumps his forehead against yours and nuzzles your noses together, like a cat.

"Just wanted to see you, baby. I should be the first and last thing you see every day." He replies, his eyes closed as he hums and puts his hands in your back pockets. You blink, your heart melting a bit as you smile at him, feeling a bit amused by his slight childish thinking.

Nodding, you cup his face. Slightly smushing his cheeks together as you caress his face aggressively lovingly. He hums in response, pressing his lips to your right palm as he holds your left hand with his. He really does act like a puppy sometimes. A greedy, needy, protective, and aggressive puppy with boom boom powers-

Katsuki bites your hand affectionately, stopping your thoughts as you flinch at the sudden sensation. He kisses the skin right after, nudging his head against yours again as he nips your nose. You squeal, giggling a bit as you place your hands on his strong chest and push him away. He huffs in disapproval, pouting as he flops onto your bed dramatically and stays still like a rag doll.

You smile, finding his childishness funny as you giggle and crawl on top of him, matching his starfish position as you both lay face first on the bed. Except your laying on top of him and poking his nape with your nose. "Baby... Hello?... Anyone there?" You ask, your chin resting on his shoulder blade as you flutter your eyelashes.

He grunts, turning his head to the side while interlocking your fingers together with his right hand. You smile, pressing a big, sloppy smooch on the back of his neck as you chuckle. He sighs in satisfaction, mumbling under his breathe while scoffing. "You don't love me anymore." He grumbles.

You blink, processing his words as you frown in confusion, about to slip your fingers from his in order to fix your current position. Katsuki grabs your hand, tangling your fingers again as he turns his head to the side and pouts at you. "Wait-What? What do you mean?-" The blonde groans, giving you a glare with no actual hate in his gaze.

"You won't let me show you affection."

Your jaw drops slightly, puzzled by his words as the wires start working in your brain. Once you realize what he means, you laugh a bit, a relieved smile on your face as you giggle at your boyfriend's shocked and offended expression. Your boyfriend did everything intensely. So it makes sense that he would love you in the only way he knows how to. What you did not know, is that he was experiencing cute aggression.

Offended by your amusement at his completely reasonable thinking, Katsuki scowls, about to roll you off his back but he halts when you nudge your head against his, nuzzling your nose on his cheek as you bite his nose and giggle.

His expression immediately lights up, quickly fixing your position so that he's on his side while you lay on him like a blanket. He hums in satisfaction, holding your hand tightly while his other hand slides under your Spiderman pajama pants, hooking his fingers with the band of your underwear while pressing big, open mouth kisses onto your lips. Not in a sexual way, but in a lovingly aggressively way.

You squeal at his actions, giggling and smiling into the wet smooches as both of your lips make exaggerated kissing noises. You cup his cheeks, squishing them while pressing your face against his. And after about 7 minutes, you pull away. Katsuki groans, more like a whine of the way he pouts and tries to dive back into your lips. Pressing your palm on his mouth, you grunt, rolling away from him as he makes slight grabby hands.

He sighs dramatically, laying like a starfish as he watches you walk towards your drawers to change. Oh that's right, your going on a date. A smug smirk grows on his face, getting up as he walks towards you and hugs you from behind. Resting his ching on the crown of your head, he inhales your scent. "You should wear my shirt." He states.

Turning your head around, a shy smile shows on your lips. You chuckle, nodding your head as you pick out your clothes, letting him choose which ones you should wear as he clings onto you from behind.

After about 15 minutes of trying to choose what to wear, going out of the dorms early in the morning, taking the bus into the town, the both of you finally arrived at your destination.

You decided to wear one of Katsuki's sweaters, as it was black with the signature white skull in the middle. You also decided to wear dark blue wide legged jeans, paired with black boots with yellow and teal shoe laces. Katsuki, being the amazing boyfriend he is, helped you put your curly hair in a lovely braid, with loose strands that fit your liking.

Katsuki wore a black hoodie, having decided to wear dark blue jeans and black boots as well to match with you. And he let you put a black cap on his spiky hair styled with some pins on it.

Hopping out of the train hand in hand, a happy smile appears on your face as you see the conservatory in the short distance. Katsuki notices this, as he lightly tugs you and begins walking towards the entrance. Excitedly, you fidget in happiness, slightly skipping as your hand squeezes Katsuki's repeatedly. "C'mon, babe! I want to see the plants and flowers!"

He chuckles, a tiny, Itty bitty smile on his face as his chests fills with that oh, so sweet pain when he sees your adorableness. He walks a bit faster, already planning ahead on where you both should go next.

After checking in, the both of you walk into the Botanical Gardens, as your eyes widen in awe. A gasp escapes your lips, a smile growing as well as the fresh air fills your nose. Katsuki turns his head, eyes softening as he admires your face.

"I made up my mind. I'm living here." You say, a big smile on your face as your eyes sparkle with excitement. Katsuki raises his eyebrow in amusement, smirking as he watches you wander around the area.

"Looks like someone is happy. How come your not that happy with me?" He teases. You ignore him, waving him off as you gasp and squat down to a random plant. "I love you..." You whisper loudly to the plant. Your boyfriend's jaw drops a bit in shock, both amazed and annoyed how quick you were to forget him.

He huffs, rolling his eyes as he shakes his head and crosses his arms. "Should've fucking stayed home." He mumbles, feeling a twinge of jealousy as he watches to fawn and gush over the plants.

The room was ginormous, with trees everywhere, plants and flowers decorated in every corner, and even a koi fish pond! Not to mention how peaceful it looks with the view of the grey clouds from the glass windows.

The air is fresh, only a few people scattered around as they enjoy the Botanical Gardens as well.

You sigh in content, already have taken about 20 pictures of the plants, trees, and flowers even if you just got here. You happily sit on a bench, admiring the koi pond a few feet away. You sway your feet, fiddling with your hands as your eyes wander around the Botanical room. "Amor! Come sit with me!" You urge, giving the blonde a big smile as you pat the spot next to you on the bench.

Katsuki immediately walks over to you, resting his arm around your shoulders as he leans in to kiss your cheek. You chuckle, leaning into his touch as you both admire the view around you.

"Are you happy?" He mutters out, looking ahead as he seems slightly tense. You turn your head, smiling as you nod and lean onto his side. "I always am when I'm with you, Kacchan." He scoffs slightly, turning his head the opposite in order so you don't see his red face. Normally, he would kill anyone who calls him that nickname. But he lets you do it since you were childhood best friends. (He doesn't say anything when Izuku says it.)

He grumbles, feeling that flutter inside his body as he gently nudges his forehead to the side of your head. "Nuh uh." You huff, pouting a bit as you open your mouth to ramble how much you love him, admire him, like, him, and how he's so talented and strong and-

As if reading your thoughts, he covers your mouth with his palm, already blushing and grumbling as he knows how much you like to ramble about him. You huff, taking through his hand as your voice sounds muffled. You don't see the problem? Is it wrong to admire your handsome, strong, talented, tall, passionate, boyfriend?

Katsuki groans in annoyance, cupping your face with both hands as he smushes your lips together and kisses his pout, trying to shut you up but failing as you try to talk through the wet kisses. He pulls away, shaking his head as you smile cheekily and tap his forehead with your finger.

"You're so fucking adorable that it's annoying."

"But you love me."

"Damn right I fucking do."

He smashes your lips together, wrapping his arms around you as he dips you while sitting on the bench. You squeal dramatically, smiling against his lips as he makes kissing noises with his mouth. You giggle, feeling him take your breath away as he gives you sloppy smooches of love.

You tap his shoulder, needing oxygen as he pulls away. He grins at you, picking you up and carrying you bridal style in his arms. You laugh, shaking your head as he walks around the room filled with the plants and trees. "C'mon, princesa. I want to buy you a bunch of cool shit."

You grin, chuckling as you let him carry you out of the Botanical room and into the conservatory café and stores. "Thank you, baby! I love you." You say, kissing his cheek as he smirks and kisses your cheek back.

"Why didn't you let me pay for at least the food?!" You ask, raising your eyebrow at the blonde as he shrugs and chuckles. "Because I'm your boyfriend, and it's my job to spoil you as much as I can." Smirking at your expression, Katsuki grabs the bags, offering his arm as you immediately cling to it as you walk out of the store/café of the conservatory.

"But-" "No buts. Just let me love you, sunshine." You glance up at him, sighing in defeat as you nod and walk towards the small indoor lake in the conservatory. You glance at the see-through roof, seeing as it started raining a bit outside as Katsuki scowls in annoyance. You rub his back comfortingly, knowing his dislike towards the rain as you walk towards the edge and smile as you see the beautiful koi fish swimming around.

This room was larger than the others, as it was still filled with trees and plants, but had a giant pond in the center. The lighting was dim, as the koi fish swam around and sometimes knocked themselves into the water lilies. You smile again, finding peace in nature as your boyfriend mentally snaps a picture of your beautiful self admiring the scenery.

Katsuki smiles to himself, his cherry red eyes filled with love as his pupils dilate while looking at you. She's just like an angel... He swore he could almost see you glowing as you grin and excitedly fidget while looking around the place.

You gasp softly, seeing a tall lotus flower around the corner. Walking over to it, you take your phone from your back pocket, snapping a picture of the vibrant colored flower while smiling to yourself. Katsuki watches you, chuckling as he smiles genuinely at your happiness.

Everything about you was perfect. Your gorgeous eyes, brown skin, those wild curls of yours, and of course, that smile and laugh of yours that sounded like the best melody in his ears. He didn't care if it was raining outside, just your smile alone shone brighter than the sun.

Oh, he was definitely taking you on dates more often. How could he not?

[fayes-fics]

Canvas

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: An art lesson with a different kind of canvas

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, body painting, oral sex (m to f), cunnilingus, vaginal sex, edging.

Word Count: 5.0k

Authors note: Sequel to Inspiration, but not necessary to have read before this. Unbetaed. This is a double request fill for @oureternalbond HERE and anon HERE. I decided to combine these requests as they were so similar (in essence, Benedict uses his wife as his canvas then smut ensues). I hope you enjoy <3

You find him in his studio, a glass conservatory he has co-opted for his artistic endeavours. He is barefoot and dressed only in black trousers and a white shirt, his braces hanging loosely around his hips, looking handsomely casual as he paints by candlelight, dusk settling in. It's then you spy his subject, the lovely arrangement of flowers you received from his family for your birthday last week. You wondered where the bouquet had disappeared to just now as you had wandered through your home—they previously had pride of place in your hallway.

“Stealing my birthday presents, husband?” you jest airily, leaning on the doorframe with crossed arms.

Benedict twists around and shoots you an apologetic smile. “Only the artistically meritorious ones, my love,” he responds, amusement laced into his tone. “Join me?” he suggests, waving his brush towards the empty easel beside him.

“I'm not certain I have anything close to the requisite skills,” you hedge. You have only ever attended his painting sessions as his subject or simply as a companion, mostly reading quietly nearby as he works—one memorable time, sitting naked upon his cock to provide the requisite inspiration. Your blood runs a little warm just at the mere memory of it.

“Art does not always need to be about skill. Enjoyment of the process is just as important, perhaps more so. Besides, I can teach you,” he smiles, the corners of his eyes wrinkling beguilingly. He never fails to convince you with that look.

“Alright,” you sigh fondly, straightening up and uncrossing your arms, “but you are not allowed to ridicule my attempt,” you argue, waggling a finger as you walk over.

He laughs and leans in to drop a kiss on your cheek as you draw up next to him. “I would never!” he promises in a bemused tone. “Everything you need is right there,” he nods to the supplies, “you have watched me paint enough times to know how to set up.” 

His confidence in your ability seemed a little unwarranted, but you’ll give it a try.

___

“I cannot do this,” you lament about ten minutes later, looking forlornly between the canvas and the spray of flowers, disappointed in your less-than-accurate rendering. All you have managed is some stems and a vague version of the vase, which looks uneven.

“Nonsense,” he dismisses, “you are doing wonderfully for your first time, my love,” he adds patiently.

You twist around with a knitted brow to look at him. “Benedict, please… your flattery is obsequious. This is… not good,” you sigh, scratching your chin with the wooden end of your brush.

“Perhaps I can assist your efforts?” he offers, putting down his brush into a jar of water and placing his palette aside.

“Please…” you request gratefully.

A smile ghosts your lips as he rounds behind you, pushing you closer to the canvas, a hand landing on your hip under the arm you balance the palette upon, and the other curling around yours, holding the brush. His fingers are warm and soft.

“Now then,” his voice is rich and rumbles right next to your ear, “the first thing is to start with the colour there is the most of on the object, and then you can start to add in light and shade… are you quite alright?” he interrupts himself as you fidget slightly.

“All is well,” you reassure.

But it's a lie. The moment he stands close behind you, your traitorous body decides this is not an art lesson at all. No, it’s something quite different. Readying itself for him with quite remarkable speed and absolutely no effort on his part. Quite astonishing, really. You attempt to listen as he sonorously explains the method involved and makes your selection on the palette and brushstrokes over the canvas. But you are half-listening and half-participating at best.

His breath tickles the wisps of hair around your ears as he seems to lean in closer until he surrounds you with his long arms and body heat. He smells of his woodsy soap, and you have to tamp down the urge to twist your nose into his strong neck and inhale deeply. For a few minutes, he guides your hand, and you relax into the motion, enjoying the sensation of being so utterly engulfed by him much more than the act.

“Now, how about you try?” he voices, gently removing his hand from yours.

You stutter, realising you were not taking on board what he was saying, distracted by the striking mental image of him painting a glistening line across your collarbone, a bright golden streak over your bare flesh. You try to remember what he said and make a hesitant dab on the canvas, but there is a disapproving noise against your temple. 

“That is not what I told you to do, now, is it?” he teases lowly.

“I do not know how to do it…” you confess in a breathy whisper. “Please guide me for a little longer, Benedict,” you implore.

“Were you listening to a word I said?” he asks, but it's not a disapproving tone. Not remotely. It’s a liting rumble, his face turning into yours so the tip of his nose nuzzles your earlobe, his breath hot on your jaw.

You suspect your lack of attention to his instruction may have been found out. 

“People pay good money for me to teach them how to paint,” he breathes into your ear, both hands now on your hips, fingers circling over the diaphanous layers of your thin, silk gown. “And yet here is my wife, not even listening to her expert teacher.”

“I am… I…” you give up, knowing it's a pointless lie. You try a different tack. “I should hope you do not treat your other students in this manner?” you throw back, rocking onto your heels so the press of your bodies is greater.

“Indeed I do not,” he murmurs, and you inhale sharply as his teeth graze the shell of your ear. 

“So perhaps this is somewhat unfair to me,” you posit, pouting your lips, knowing his eyes are watching you side on.

He chuckles richly. “Perhaps,” and he gently slides the paintbrush from between your fingers. “There is another method by which I can teach you all about the pleasures of painting.” 

“Oh, and what is that?” you breathe, closing your eyes as warm lips land on your neck, that weak spot which makes you completely pliant.

“It requires a different canvas,” he whispers, his lips catching on your skin.

For a fleeting moment, you consider if he could read where your thoughts had skated only minutes earlier; again, you think of golden paint on your flesh. There is a faint ting as he drops the brush into a glass jar of water and eases the palette from where it is hooked around your thumb, and you do not fight it; just stand still and attempt to regulate your breathing, eagerly awaiting what he will do next.

Your heart rate spikes as deft fingers undo the buttons between your shoulder blades.

“You have such beautiful skin,” he sighs, his lips dropping warm onto the top of your shoulder as your dress relents and falls in a pool around you. “I want to paint you.”

Your breath hitches as he runs a knuckle down the notches of your spine; glad you didn’t bother with a chemise. Your eyes fall closed as he kisses your skin again and plucks open the laces of your stays. When the material slackens, he pulls the structured fabric away from your body and tosses it aside, his hands instantly cupping your breasts and pulling you back into him.

Your moan is wanton as you writhe, his fingers snagging your nipples as they pebble against his palm. One hand sweeps down to the little buttons on your silk underwear and deftly flicks them open as his other hand is busy, making your nipple into a stiff peak.

“Lay down, darling wife,” he murmurs, the tone laden, as your underwear slips around your ankles. 

He gestures to the oversized double chaise conveniently covered in a heavy canvas drop cloth. It’s almost as if he planned for this. You hold his hand delicately as he assists you into a reclined position.

“Will you not be getting naked too, husband?” you coo, watching as he returns for a palette and brush.

“It would certainly make clean-up easier,” he smirks and rips off his shirt, tossing it aside.

Then he walks back to you, a slight swagger in his gait, knowing he has your undivided, breathy attention as your eyes covetously drink in his torso.

“Gold…” escapes your lips unbidden and stops him in his tracks as he towers above you.

“Gold, what?” his query warm, but puzzled as he places the art supplies on the floor next to the chaise.

“When I dream of you painting me, my body,” you confess, “it’s always gold.”

He leans over, his face etched with desire. “You dream of me doing this?” 

“Yes,” you murmur, “Your cool, wet brush swirling over my heated skin….” you close your eyes and bite your lip, lost in the reverie of it.

“Tell me more,” he implores, his breath hot on your cheek, the chaise squeezing as he sits beside you. “Keep your eyes closed if it helps,” he adds, moving back; it sounds like he is fiddling with the supplies.

“You start at my neck….” you sigh, inhaling sharply when a wet ticklish brush lands right on the left side of your neck, then holds still.

“And then?” he prompts gently.

“Then… you do a swooping line over my chin to my other ear,” you breathe, gasping as he does exactly as you describe, the smell of fresh paint filling your nostrils, the feel of it wet and heavy.

“What is next?” his voice is dark and sweet now, goading you into more detail.

“Then you paint a line down the side of my neck, over here…” you gesture at your collarbone, “...then lower,” you end in a whisper, almost reluctant to admit how erotic your fantasies of him can be.

Nothing, however, can prepare you for those errant thoughts becoming a reality—the drag of cold buttery substance, each bristle a damp tickle as he smears a line to the swell of your breast, your eyes flying open to see his gaze heavy and intense on the task in hand. Your nipple pebbles almost painfully, even though he does not stray close to it, surrounding your breast with a golden loop, his pupils dilating, his breath hot on your skin, leaning close. 

“Does that feel good?” he practically purrs.

You nod, feeling the wetness blotting across your neck at your movement.

Without asking you what happens next in your dream, he takes the initiative and traces a line around your other breast, the brush dipping into the valley of your breastbone before continuing. When you tip your head to see his handiwork, the metallic hue shines bright in the candlelight.

“May I use other colours on you too, my love?” his question is almost reverential in tone.

“I am yours, Benedict,” you sigh honestly, “do with me as you wish.”

Those words light an artistic and sensual fire in his eyes; he pushes up to kiss you, plundering your mouth with a possessive kiss. When he pulls away, you feel dazed, desperate for more, but you watch patiently as he reaches for another clean brush on the floor by his feet and selects a new choice from the palette.

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs.

You do as he asks, aching to know what hue it is. You gasp as a broader brush runs across your skin, starting at your neck and sweeping down, shadowing the path of the other line already drying on your skin.

“What colour?” your curiosity getting the better of you.

“What is your favourite on me?” he teases gently, his strokes seeming to concentrate most on the sensitive skin under your breast, making your thoughts fuzzy, distracted—you know it's intentional.

“You look good in so many colours,” you offer; it's the truth. “I love your light gold cravat,” you add with a sigh, knowing he has already used that shade at your request.

“You are stalling, my love,” he points out with a bemused tone, teasingly flicking the ends of his brush in the spot closest to your underarm.

“Blue? You always look so handsome in every shade of blue, from navy to sky,” you guess.

“Oh, then that shall have to be next,” he lilts, telling you that you have guessed incorrectly.

You mentally flick through some of your favourite of his outfits, squirming slightly at the images you see, his brush still teasing. Then there is a lightbulb moment.

“Burgundy red!” you exclaim, remembering the waistcoat he wore on the day you met, the one that made you lose the power of speech, temporarily tongue-tied, never having seen a man wear such fine silks before.

“Well done, darling,” he compliments. 

You open your eyes to see he has interwoven the harmonious shades in an exquisite arching design, truly using your skin as a canvas. 

“Now lay still; there is much work still to do,” he instructs softly.

You settle into the chaise, your belly fluttering as he slips lower, daubing your diaphragm in intricate loops, trying to keep your breaths shallow for a still surface. He swaps brush again, back to gold, holding the other in his knuckle, the rich red loaded tip contrasting his pale skin. 

When he sinks below your ribs onto your belly, you bite your lip, the light touch tickling you to the point of giggling. You try your best not to move, but when he glides over a sensitive patch, it bubbles out of you on reflex. 

His gaze pings up to your face, a lopsided grin claiming his features. “Does that tickle?” he mocks gently. You can only giggle more in reply as he teases even lighter over that weak spot. 

“Stop it,” you whisper, knowing how much he enjoys the tease.

“Never,” he responds lightly, lowering his face; you jolt as he lightly bites your bare nipple, and you cry out. “I veritably exist to tease you; you are so beautiful like this,” he whispers, pausing in his artistry, pressing you into the chaise with his body weight.

“Look at you,” you giggle as he pulls away again, seeing smears of pain across his chest. 

“That is nothing. I expect both of our bodies will be a riot of colours by the time I am done with you, wife.” His tone is simultaneously light with mirth and dark with promise.

“Perhaps you should speed up,” you answer playfully; it may dry before you have the opportunity.” He laughs, teething your other nipple before refreshing the line.

“Not a chance.” 

Just as your stomach clenches at the idea he will move lower, he grabs your right arm and concentrates his efforts there as if to elongate the burn of anticipation you feel. It's less ticklish until he swipes the crook of your elbow over your veins, making you giggle again, meeting his hazy blue eyes with an intense stare. Wordlessly he kisses your hand before swapping to your left arm, creating free-hand a mirror image of the pattern on your right. It's striking, and somewhat ironically, you wish there was a portrait of you looking like this, covered in his design.

As you are lost in your reverie of that thought, he slips lower on the chaise, and you gasp as he restarts the line at your middle and swirls down all over your belly. He employs a heavier stroke so as not to tickle as much, alternating the two, holding both brushes with ease between his long artistic fingers. You have to bite back a moan when one swoop goes lower, skating along the top of your pubic hair. 

“Open your legs,” his voice low and decadent. Feeling a burning low in your gut, you draw up your knees a few inches and part your legs a fraction, keeping your feet together. “I said…” he grabs your ankle and plants it at the edge of the chaise, out wide, “...open your legs,” his voice dark, making you flush hot.

You meekly move your other foot to match the stance, now lewdly spread before him. 

“Much better,” his voice rough as his gaze is heavy on your core. “Do not move,” he commands.

You pant lightly as he resumes, leaning in so close you can feel his breath on your inner thighs. He paints a line from your belly down over your hip and up your thigh. It's the longest he has done, ending with a flourish at your kneecap. Then he swaps the brushes and traces along the same path in the dark red. 

“What of the navy blue husband?” you murmur, trying to keep your voice even, even though you feel a slight tremble in your body at the contrast of the cool liquid and the warm flush of arousal.

“All in good time. You should not rush an artist at work, darling,” he replies playfully.

“What if your canvas is in need?” you inquire quietly.

“Where does my darling canvas have a need, hmm?” he asks duskily, intentionally acting obtuse even as his breath puffs close to the place you want him the most.

He runs a line achingly slow down your inner thigh, looping under into the crease where your buttock meets your thigh, the odd feeling making goose bumps break out across your surrounding skin, the tilt of his face right above where you burn so hot. 

“Here, perhaps?” he whispers, and you cry out as his warm wet mouth opens wide on your folds.

One of your hands shoots down to grasp his hair as he unfurls his tongue, swiping deep into your folds, lapping the overflowing well of moisture there. You stare down the plane of your body, watching the colour on your inner thigh streak across his clavicle and shoulder as he drinks from your body, pulling your pearl between his lips and sucking so hard you see stars. His eyes fly open and hold yours; his gaze is fiery as he swipes under your clitoral hood. His tongue dabs the most sensitive spot, the one that makes your leg want to kick out and go rigid from the intense sensation. Just as you start to writhe and moan, he pulls back. You pout in disbelief as he calmly returns to painting.

“How can you tease me so?!” you lament, chest heaving, hand falling from its grip on his chestnut locks.

He laughs and continues with his art, your concentration barely registering it, your heartbeat throbbing in your abandoned, swollen clit.

“Please, Benedict,” you appeal, absentmindedly watching him switch to the other shade.

It seems he is ignoring you as his brow knits in concentration, glancing at your other leg to ensure, as with your arms, it is an exact mirror. It's undoubtedly stunning, but somehow your interest in it has waned, all of your thoughts of needing his mouth back where it was.

You plead again and almost want to cry in relief as he seems to huff sympathetically and move so his face is again a fraction from where you want him. After one long, indulgent swipe through your soaked folds that has you gasping loudly, he stops, rears up and quickly climbs over your body, his lips landing on yours, damp and tangy with your desire. Shaking with unsated need, you whimper against his musky tongue as he kisses you deeply. 

“Please,” your voice has a tremulant quality betraying your need, he has taken you to the edge, and the denial makes you prickle hot all over.

“Soon,” it’s a whispered promise, “your skin is too arresting of a sight flushed like this. I need to paint more upon this gorgeous canvas,” he sighs, leaning over to scoop up his brushes again.

“Benedict, please,” you writhe, letting your legs fall closed, hoping to rub against your clit, eager for stimulation.

“Open your legs,” he tuts as he returns his attention to you, parting your knees carefully with his hands, avoiding his handiwork. “If you keep misbehaving, darling, I shall not let you come,” he warns with an arched brow.

“Then I shall have to touch myself,” you sass, squaring your jaw in defiant playfulness. 

“We shall see about that,” he challenges. “Give me your fingers.” Hazy, you allow him to encircle your wrist, only startling when large beads of wetness daub your fingertips. “There we go, navy blue,” he smirks, grabbing your other hand and repeating the action. 

You stare at him dumbfounded, realising you cannot touch yourself now without a mess. That smug crooked smile is still there as you watch him crawl slowly between your legs before diving facefirst into you again, making you scream. You want to grip his hair, but with your fingers now dripping with navy, you feel you should refrain. However, when he loops his arms around your hips, you grab his wrists instead as they frame your thighs. Slathering streaks of dark blue on his pale forearms as he lashes you with his tongue, you calling his name.

He is ravenous, using his whole face to arouse your senses, the stubble of his chin abraiding your labia as he once again teases you, suckling your clit into his mouth, circling his tongue in firm strokes, undulating and spearing it just where you need, as if intuiting what you need at any moment, The tip of his nose is burrowed into your patch of hair, inhaling your scent as if he cannot get enough of your taste and smell, his primal behaviour just making your more wanton for him.

He moans, muffled encouragements into your cunt, the cadence vibrating up into your pubic bone. You stare transfixed at him, decadent, delicious, filthy, a debauched and erotic tableau, the skin pulling taunt over his high cheekbones as he consumes you. Just as your pussy starts to flutter, he pulls up and teases you, pursing his lips and blowing a slow puff of air over your overheated pearl. It's not enough and too much all at once, such a different sensation from his lathing tongue. He chuckles as you groan in frustration and grasp his wrists tightly, fingernails digging blue crescents into his flesh, hoping to incite him back into action.

Instead, he shakes off your grip and swiftly stands up and roughly tugs at the buttons on his trousers, smirking down at you as you turn breathless again with desire, holding your painted fingers on either side of your head as he drops the fabric. As ever, he is without underwear, and even though his straining cock is a familiar sight, every time, it steals your breath and makes you pulse deep inside, just for him.  

He prowls over your prone body, almost cat-like, admiring his handiwork. “You are my masterpiece,” the awed but somehow still achingly seductive tone he employs makes your hips cant up towards him, a reflex, your body seeking his.

Uncaring of the mess it will leave, you run your navy fingertips from his chest to his pelvis, curling a little to scrape your nails into the paint trails. It looks like animal claws—as if you are marking him, possessive. His response is a growl at you, hoisting your legs into the crook of his elbow and with a flash of something primal in his eyes, he surges into your weeping body with one swift thrust.

It makes you call his name. So loudly that you know the staff will hear it throughout the house. You don’t care—don’t care if they come running to check on your welfare and find you naked and decorated, pinned under your husband as he begins to fuck into you, so roughly the whole chaise squeaks and moves across the tiled floor. His body curled over yours, his large hand above your head gripping the raised chaise end for leverage. 

Lost in the carnality of how he is taking you, your walls clinging to his plunging cock, you band your arms around him, smearing long finger trails down the contours of his back until you reach his buttocks and squeeze them covetously, encouraging him to push deeper, go harder, and make it hurt. The glorious, intricate pattern on your skin still tacky, causing your flesh to cling to his and smudge together, the blue on him with the gold and burgundy from you. Blotches and smears that look so vibrant on his pale skin.

“Are you close again, my love?” his question, a touch breathless as he thrusts into you.

You hiss your confirmation, eyes rolling as you grasp his cheeks again and force your legs wider, greedy for him, for more. For him to push so far into your body, it will feel like he’s always there, even when he’s not, like some internal tattoo of him carved into your being. 

“More Benedict… please,” urgent now. It feels like all you’ve done for hours is plead with him, needing to release so badly your mind feels akin to madness, an itch in your brain that needs to be scratched. 

But he slows, and you want to scream in frustration, his movements shallow, delicate, not the onslaught you need to take you over the precipice he has dangled you over what feels like countless times. 

“I love to see this,” his voice husky, breath puffing hot on your face, “when you are so unbridled with need, darling. I cannot resist taking you so close and denying you: the wild look, your untamed desire. All for me.”

You move your hands from his behind and grab his jaw, uncaring that you plaster his face with blue fingermarks. “It's always for you, just you, Benedict, my love, my life,” you affirm, hoping that is what he needs to hear to finally release you from this heightened state of near delirium.

His responding grin is breathtaking, and he begins to plough into you in earnest, his gaze never leaving yours, eyes burning to witness the moment you break for him. The chaise protests loudly, the wooden feet scraping hard on the floor under his unforgiving pace.

You bite your lip and plead with your eyes, wanting his expert touch to push you over.

“Your fingers, please,” you implore, and suddenly three are shoved between your lips, traces of the bitter taste of paint there, along with the tang of sweat and the flavour that is all him. 

“Get them nice and wet, darling,” he lectures, not slowing his pace. You greedily wrap your tongue around his invading digits and slather them in your saliva, drooling around him as his thrusts jolt your entire body. “Yes darling, that's it,” he encourages, and he snarls as you run an edge of teeth over his cuticles, goading him, loving to see him as lost in the potency of the moment as you.

Then with a look that always makes you breathless, he slides the fingers out of your mouth, and they snake between your bodies, finding your engorged clit with ease. You scream his name, and a few harsh flicks are all you need to tip over, clenching so hard around his cock that his hips stutter and he roars into your ear as you fracture around him. Waves of pleasure ripple across your body, almost violent, your muscles spasming, your limbs shaking uncontrollably after being denied.

Distantly, as if through cotton wool, you hear him cursing and growling your name, teeth pressing into the cord of your neck as he curls around you with one final jerk and a loud, guttural groan, he stills, his body stiff, a vein pulsing heavily in his neck and forehead as he empties into you, warmth blooming deep inside you as he spills. Shortly after, he collapses onto his forearms, bracketing your body, mindful not to squash you under his weight as he pants, heaving breaths, his chest bumping yours with each ragged inhale.

You don't say words; just trail the remaining blue paint on your fingers across the skin of his shoulders, connecting the collage of freckles there into a slanted star-like shape. Below a certain point, your bodies resemble a rainbow; the detail he built so carefully now merely a smudge of lively streaks.

“Did you enjoy your painting lesson, my love?” his tone whimsical as his breathing returns to normal.

You giggle and push up to plant a kiss on his smiling lips. “You know I did, Mr Bridgerton; you are a wonderful teacher,” you wink; his responding laugh makes your whole body jiggle under him.

“Now to get clean,” he hums drolly, his grin lopsided and winsome. “I believe we may need to share a bath.”

“Or swim in the lake,” you posit jokingly, rolling your head to look out of the large glass panes, down across the moonlit grass to the water beyond. When you tilt your head back, his look is priceless. His eyebrows shoot up, and that grin grows wider. 

“I love how you think,” he gusts, and you squeal as he scoops you in his arms bridal style, and before you know it, he has elbowed open the French doors and is carrying you to the water’s edge.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @Mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau

[3rachasdomesticbanana]

Road Not Taken | Bang Chan

Synopsis: When your parents tell you that you're to marry the mayors son, Seo Changbin, you're left with two choices. Do you take the easy and sure route with nothing but green grass or do you take the path that's a bit less predictable and rough?

Pairings: au Bang Chan x Female Reader

Content Includes: Fluff, Forbidden romance, Secret romance, Strict parents, A sexually suggestive moment, Runaway, Happy ending, The Notebook vibes, Rich girl x not so rich guy

•Short but sweet. wc 2k•

an: Inspired by the poem The road not taken by Robert Frost and Chan quoting the poem when he talked about yellow wood in the intro.

“Y/N are you listening? Your father is talking to you.” Your mom sighs and rolls her eyes. “Honestly, get your head out of the clouds. This is a great opportunity and Seo Changbin is a great catch. He's so handsome and strong. Not to mention he'll be mayor one day after his father. You'll be the mayor's wife y/n doesn't that sound wonderful?” She gushes, clasping her hands together happily looking lovingly at your dad, who was the governor.

What is this, some eighteenth century life you're living? Why do you have to marry some guy just because he's rich and smart? Yeah sure, Changbin is great, literally at everything but... You've known him since you were in preschool. Even went to the same prep school together too so you know just how amazing of a guy he is. He's just not your type. He's more of a big brother to you. The problem though, you've always done as you were told. Take up horseback riding even if you were terrified? Yep. Harp even if it made your fingers blister and bleed? Of course. So how could you possibly look your parents in the face and defy them? Your dad looks at you with such a proud expression that you feel like shit for even thinking about going against him.

“Yes.” Is all you can say because the false smile and enthusiasm you give, takes everything out of you.

“That's my princess. You make your mother and I so proud of you. Really, we're so lucky. Isn't that right Grace?” Your dad pats your mother's hand still looking at you and she nods in agreement.

“The luckiest.” She chimes in. “Now make sure not to be late for your piano lessons; your recital is next week.” waving a dismissing hand.

Her large wedding ring and perfectly manicured nails shine in the sunlight that spills through the multiple windows of the conservatory. Removing the white cloth from your lap and setting it onto the table next to your barely eaten lunch, you stand up and leave. The entire conversation replays repetitively in your mind that you don't see your little sister leaving her room and you bump into almost butting heads.

“Shit, I'm sorry sis. I didn't see you. You're not hurt are you?” You fuss over her and she slaps your hands away smiling.

“Jeez will you chill. I'm fine. Where's your head at though?” She questions you, crossing her petite arms over her chest. Her large eyes look up at you and you briefly think back to a few hours ago when you were that carefree. Hopefully she won't share your fate in a few years seeing as she's only four years younger than you.

“Mom and dad just dropped a bomb on me.” Sighing, you lean back against the perfectly decorated wall behind you. “I'm set to marry Seo Changbin.” You finish and your sister's eyes light up.

“Oh my god, no way?” She whispers and covers her mouth. “You're so lucky. I'd give my left ear to marry that man. Have you seen his arms?”

When she giggles you can't help but join in. Just like Changbin, her laugh is infectious. The two of you gossip about boys a little longer in the hallway before you reluctantly make your way to your room to quickly shower and change your clothes before your lessons. Piano lessons were not only important to your mom but even more important to you.

Chris Bang, your piano teacher and the love of your life, secretly for the past two years, makes the lessons worth every second of struggling over the piece you decided to play for your recital. River flows in you by Yiruma has been a favorite of yours since you were really little and because you've heard it so many times you thought it would be easy. It isn't, not even remotely. The increasing tempo is where you seem to struggle and Chris will often tell you “Don't fear a little accelerando baby.”

Seeing his face when you walk in erases all the stress from your body and mind. He's like a hard reset to your mental health. The way his eyes sparkle and even smile along with him, the two dimples perfectly placed on either side of his beautiful mouth and the enveloping scent of smokey vanilla that surrounds you when he pulls you in for a tight hug, it all chases away all the bad and heals you.

“There's my beautiful girl. Gosh, I missed you.” He greets you with open arms that go around your waist when you stroll into him. His lips leave feathery light kisses all over your face making you chuckle softly.

“I missed you too babe.” You happily reply and push his blonde hair back from his brow. In contrast to how heavy your heart felt earlier it feels lightweight now.

His lips find yours turning the sweet embrace into something more intimate. Inside the family library, it's the only space you two are never interrupted. No one, not even staff dare disturb your lessons, not after your mom fired the last person that did so. It was completely uncalled for, the poor guy only came in the room to dust while you were going through the notes and when you messed up your mother blamed him. Now it's a haven for you and Chris. The two of you have spent hours studying each other's body's more times than you've actually studied the music. Thank God that Chris is a good teacher, you're able to show off your progress if or whenever your mom decides to show interest. So when his hands move from your waist and grips your ass you don't stop him.

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“Well now that that part of the lesson is over, what do you say you show me what else your fingers can do?” Chris suggests playfully still breathing heavily above you with a cocky smirk.

“Oh my gosh,” you giggle and cover your face. “you're such a dork but I love you.”

The moment is blissful and if you could lay like this under him for eternity, you gladly would. Unfortunately though, the large black Steinway grand piano sits waiting for you because if your mom doesn't hear any playing she won't hesitate to barge in. So you two unreluctantly separate and get dressed, hands and lips refusing to stray away from each other for too long.

Sitting on the shiny black surface of the piano's bench, your fingers hover over the keys as you inhale deeply through your nose and then exhale slowly out your mouth. The pads of your fingertips lightly press down on the ivory keys in front of you and begin moving effortlessly. Your eyes close upon hearing the sad yet happy music you create. Due to how many times you've played this piece it's become second nature now but when the crescendo approaches you become more focused and tense up.

“Relax babes, you can do this.” Chris whispers in your ear and you breathe him in.

Your fingers move, gradually picking up speed feeling calm and at ease knowing Chris is behind you and believing in your abilities. The worst is over and the tempo slows, ending with a beautiful climax.

“See baby, I knew you could do it!” Chris cheers coming around from behind you to stand beside the instrument and look at you. “Woah woah what's the matter? What happened y/n, why are you crying?” He gently takes your face in his hands stroking your cheeks with his thumbs wiping away the tears that rapidly fall from your eyes.

With the day's news finally getting to you, you break down and tell him everything. About the arrangement and how you are terrified of disobeying your parents but most of all you tell him that the last thing you want to do is be with someone that isn't him. That thought alone fills you with dread and makes you sick to your stomach. Changbin is a good man but he isn't Chris and you could never love another man the way you love him. You're pulled into his strong arms as he consoles you, the soft singing coming from him soothes you until you're able to calm the sobs that wrack through you.

“It's okay baby girl. Don't be sad. I know that I may not have a lot...” He pauses and scoffs at himself, resting his chin on top of your head, still holding you tight. “Honestly the only thing I have a lot of, is the love that I have for you. So whatever path you decide to take I'll always love you.”

“After all this time I still get amazed at how perfect you are, Christopher.” You tell him, voice slightly muffled against his chest, followed by sniffling as you hold back fresh tears that threaten to spill by his words.

He chuckles and his body shakes lulling you like a newborn. Chris's actions and words only proves your point, how can you love someone other than him? There's no one that could possibly take his place, you know that. What you don't know is how you're going to let your family down and tell them that you won't be marrying Seo Changbin. How do you disappoint your parents in a way that won't entirely shatter their hearts to the point where they just cut you off or abandon you? They could never do that to you… could they? That night you replayed Chris's words in your head so much that you gave yourself a headache. Sitting up in bed, after having tossed and turned for a good three hours you ran through all possible scenarios.

If you chose the easy path and agreed to be with Changbin you were sure how your life would be. Exactly like your mother's life. As a rich wife with a simple, boring, predictable life full of other people who just care about money and social politics. You'd spend your days with other wives, expected to dress and act a certain way all while losing a part of yourself if not all. Choosing Chris however, things would be uncertain. You have no idea what the future could possibly hold for you both. There could be rough terrain along the way but you were certain that you would be happy. That you both would get through whatever life decided to throw at you. As long as love continued to bloom and grow like a well taken care of flower, you two would be okay.

Jumping out of bed you look at your phone and see it's just past 5am but it's now or never. Grabbing a backpack from the closet and emptying it of any forgotten items you shove some clothes and a few important items inside. Your heart races and mixed emotions flood through your chest. Fear, excitement, guilt, nervousness and sadness sit comfortably at the top of the iceberg that is you. You keep moving silently throughout your room though, making sure you've got everything that you need.

“Just in case.” You whisper outloud to yourself. ‘Just in case they don't let me come back.’ That thought sits heavy on your heart but it doesn't derail your plans. You've made up your mind.

You're not going to play it safe by marrying Changbin. You've been playing it safe all your life. The uncertainty of taking a path that not many would travel down is scary. All the ‘what ifs’. If you could take both paths some way you would but that's not possible. It's a risk but for love and for Chris, you'd gladly make this choice again. Glancing around the room one last time, a last minute thought springs to your mind and you walk over to your desk to write your parents and sister and note.

“Mom and Dad, please don't be too upset with me. I'm leaving with Chris. I love him and I just couldn't see myself doing as I'm told this time. I hope you can find it in your hearts to continue to love me just the same. If you allow me to, I'll be back someday soon. Sweet little sister go and get Changbin, yeah? He'd be lucky to have you as a wife instead of me anyway we both know that. I love you three. I won't be far but I also won't change my mind.”

With a satisfied sigh you fold the paper in half and set it on your pillow. Your palm lays flat on the surface and you silently say goodbye to the life you had always known for something grander. Love. As the sunrise casts a golden hue on the horizon, you run towards the woods with nothing but the clothes you're wearing and a backpack slung over your shoulder. The sounds of the wildlife waking up throughout the yellow wood around you sounds so beautiful and it keeps your feet moving. The small house fenced in just past the woods comes to view and you smile breathlessly.

Rapping your knuckles on the white painted wooden door you chew on your bottom lip and wait for Chris to open up. Curly, messy blond hair peeks through the crack in the door when he slowly opens it. Almost in unison when he realizes it's you visiting him this early, his sleepy eyes and the door widens.

“Y/n baby what are you doing here?” his eyes go from your face down to the backpack that you now clutched in your hand and he lets out a small gasp that lights you up. “You really chose me?” His voice sounds so small like he can't believe it.

“Yes, I did. How could I not?” you give him a lopsided grin and wink playfully.

He grabs you in his arms and kisses your lips over and over, pecking them with a huge grin on his face. Setting you down, looking down into your eyes with so much love and longing he tells you that he'll make it his life's mission to make you happy every day and to not only tell you but show you just how much he loves you. You could feel your heart swelling from his words and your emotions bubbling up inside. Didn't he know he made you happy everyday already?

Setting your hand into his and interlocking your fingers you look up at him and sweetly smile. “No matter what storms we encounter, I'll always be there holding my hand out to you. I'll never regret the path I've decided to take at your side. I made a choice for love and that will make all the difference.”

The End.

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Sidenote: I wanted to end this the same way the poem ended so there won't be a part 2. Just know they lived happily ever after.

Her sister married Binnie and her parents eventually got the stick out of their asses and were cool with her living her best life as Mrs. Y/N Bang lol ♡ if you've never read the poem or listened to the track Road Not Taken from skz's Yellow Wood album I definitely recommend both.

[wildxtreasures]

awakening

Perhaps he had forgotten what it looked like. There wasn't much time for it. He saw blood splattered on the ground. He saw the people he needed to protect but would never know. He saw the duty that now rested on his shoulders, never to be shirked until his dying breath.

Even the sound of it was now foreign to him. All he knew were the sounds of monsters and of comradery. The shouts of danger. The shouts of laughter. The way it echoes in a dark cave. The way it echoes in a a grand dining hall.

But beauty? Attraction? Love? Even if it was only burgeoning? That Davrin had entirely forgotten.

His hands moved swiftly, the knife powerful and delicate in his hands as the wood moulded to his desires. This normally set his head straight, his thoughts drifting away as the rhythm of the grain soothed him. But the thoughts of all that had befallen Thedas were too loud.

His feet took him to the lookout that faced the Lighthouse. He could see the conservatory where Harding grew her explosive garden, the ornate doors that lead to the eluvian.

And...Rook.

She was kneeling in front of Assan. Her hands were behind her back and she was speaking softly to the griffon. One hand appeared, scratching behind his ears. Once Assan chirped his satisfaction, Rook stood up. She waved her hand, a practiced movement and Assan responded. He spun around quickly, landing ungracefully into a sit that faced her.

Rook laughed, a grin wide on her face. That smile...

She produced a treat, allowing Assan to eat from her hand while she stroked the feathers on his neck.

Davrin found himself leaning on the railing of the outlook, entranced. He could watch her with Assan for hours, his mind at peace.

She spotted him, staring, and waved. Her smile was still present, only softer now. He waved back just as Assan turned to see him. The little griffon's body bounced and he took off toward him.

"I guess I'm only as good as my treats, eh?" Rook shouted after Assan.

Davrin side-stepped Assan's rocky crash landing into his room. "He's got good taste!"

"I can't argue with that!" She winked before heading across the way to Neve's little office. He couldn't help but watch her go and wish that she was heading up the stairs to talk with him.

He still did not know what love looked like. Or what it sounded like. But he might be beginning to know what it felt like.

[newtonsheffield]

They’d shared a two minute conversation during which she’d managed to call him stupid a number of different times in an exciting variety of ways. And still, he’d found himself sat behind the typewriter (...) as he wrote about anything. But kindly it wasn’t about anything. Mostly it was about her, in some way or another. Or rather, the feeling of her.

THIS. This is so in line with the canon. I immediately thought of the scene during the conservatory ball. Kate gives her monologue, tearing Anthony to pieces and he is completely smitten with her from the get-go.

I bet he still has the initial pages written way back then. Maybe they even made it to Snow Filled Paper? But the originals are surely hidden in his desk: yellowed, crumpled and tattered, since Anthony has been rereading them all over again.

A version of some of them are in Snow Filled Paper but most of them are tucked away in Anthony’s desk drawer, folded and unfolded and tearing at the edges.

Anthony takes them out and reads them from time to time and Kate has no idea they even exist until they’re nearly two months into their relationship and she’s looking for something else in his desk. She finds them in an old tin from the Jane Austen Museum and it makes her chuckle as she opens it. It’s such an Anthony thing to own, and she can’t resist knowing what’s inside.

There’s a lot of things in there from there uni days actually, there’s a coaster with the mark of a beer bottle from the pub they used to go to with their friends and there’s a daisy chain that’s been pressed into a notebook that has Anthony’s thoughts in. She chuckled as she read

Grow moustache? Might look cultured and distinguished? Set me apart from D.

Her brow furrowed as she looked at the D printed there, trying to remember who that might have been. She moved on, unfolding one of the sheets of paper at the back and her heart stuttered in her chest.

It was about her, she was sure it was. She remembered the day he’d written about, when they’d met in the library to work on their assignment and her breath caught at the way he described it.

“Are you snooping?”

She dropped the paper in surprise looking up to see Anthony leaking against the doorway, sipping a cup of tea.

“Maybe a little?”

She held up the pages, “Did you really feel this way about me?”

Anthony groaned, leaning against the edge of the desk, “please don’t read that. I was still finding my style.”

“I like it.” She said gently, pressing her lips to his. “It’s very sweet.”

“I… Please don’t read too far. I think in that one I used the phrase Aphrodite would be a poor muse compared with her.”

Kate bit back a laugh, “I’m obsessed with this.”

“Is there anything I can do to convince you not to read it?” Anthony wiggled his eyebrows, “I’d be willing to show you just how close you are to Aphrodite.”

Kate hummed, tapping her finisher on her chin. “Tell me who D is? I don’t remember you being friends with a D in uni. But you fucking hate him.”

Anthony raised his eyebrows, “You don’t know a D from first year?”

It dawned on her and her mouth fell open with a gasp, “Oh you wanted to grow a moustache to set you apart from Dan?!”

He flushed, “He had a motorbike and I was jealous! He was dating my dream girl.”

“That’s very sweet.”

Anthony hummed, leaning into her, “Would the moustache have worked?”

Kate grimaced, “It would have set this timeline back at least 5 years. Now I might be into it.”

“Interesting.”