#my aunt had to stare her down through the window to get her to stop

[abluehappyface]

WHAT IS WITH PEOPLE AND FUCKING STARING AT ME FOR EXISTING!?

[lokisgoodgirl]

Measurement : The Rite (III)

A Masterlist for The Rite is HERE A Link to my Regular Masterlist is HERE Summary: (3) Loki gives you a taste of luxury, a visit to the Asgardian Weaving Crones - and his inseam isn't the only thing measured up. (w/c 3.9k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smuttish. Language. Loki being a tease. Ridiculous Asgardian lore.

‘I’ve never wanted anything so badly,’ Loki drips in your ear: warm, hot, desperate. With every impossibly calculated push of his hips, your spine arches off the bed: inch, by inch, by inch.

His lips meet the hollow of your collarbone with a hungry growl, like he'll eat you alive. ‘I’ve never wanted anyone so—’ You wake with a violent shudder, wide-eyed and staring at the ceiling. An oil of sweat covers your naked body, tangled in the sheets. The air is sticky, mind racing as you squint towards the window. It’s barely daybreak.

Noon, Loki said. The boy will come at noon.

Loki’s stone-faced apprentice seems unimpressed when you open the door before the second of his tiny knocks. It’s exactly midday. Not desperate at all, you think, as his lips form a thin line. He’s judging the neckline, you can tell.

“After you,” you say, forcing a smile. You don’t like him, and the feeling is clearly mutual. You catch the start of his eye-roll as he turns away and his silly little boots clack across the stone.

Shameless stares fall on the two of you walking the bustling corridors of Asgard’s court. Looks are followed by whispers. It feels…naughty - a tingling feeling that starts in the seat of your belly and seems to plump the ends of your hair, giving it a bounce as you walk.

You wonder what they’re thinking, seeing you led by the boy with Loki’s symbol emblazoned on his chest. You hope they think it’s something scandalous. And, maybe it is.

At every turn, you expect to see Loki standing in the middle of the corridor with his hands clasped behind his back; a smirk curling at his lip and the start of a hard-on in his ridiculously tight trousers at the mere whiff of your approach. But alas, it’s not to be. Just more stares, more whispers. They’re starting to get annoying.

“How much longer?” you hiss. He glances over his shoulder. “Not long, pipe down,” he says with all the enthusiasm of a bag of sand.

You stick your tongue out at the back of his head and suddenly his fist rises, a burst of blue smoke curling between his fingers. It undulates in the air, a ball gaining the shape of a small fist identical to his own. Slowly, one finger unfurls in your direction: the middle one.

Little shit, you think. But honestly, it’s pretty impressive. Loki's clearly teaching him well. Sort of.

Eventually, after passing through the courtyard and out the palace gates, he stops under a lemon tree. There’s a massive, bronze door cut into the stone walls with one large turret protruding from the top. Your eyes dart over the door, and then to him, and then the door.

“Well?” you ask, trying to be polite but the impatience bleeding through. This dress is pretty tight; your breasts look incredible but fucking Norns, it’s hot today. He gestures to the tree. “You have to bite into a lemon to open the doors.”

Your arms fold, eyebrows rising. “Be serious. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

His beady gaze drops down to the hem of your dress and back to your face. “Clearly,” he says. Your eyebrows rise further and you chew the inside of your mouth, reminding yourself he’s a literal child. He shrugs with a sudden burst of youthful innocence. “I don’t make the rules. It's some kind of test so they get no time wasters.”

“Who?” “The Crones.” No...way.

The Asgardian Weaving Crones are second only to the royal family in their legendary status. How many times had you pranced around in your aunt’s scrap fabrics from her sewing table, playing 'Ceremony' – inventing all the spells you’d have woven into the fabrics the Crones create with their famously nobbled fingers. The more nobbled, the more revered.

It's said the robes can make you more beautiful, more lucky, more fertile. Whatever you desired. Every piece is a work of art, cost more than a summer-palace in the hills, reserved only for the highest…highest…members of the court. I guess Prince Loki wasn’t kidding about the luxury, you think, eyes sliding to the plump lemons hanging over your head. “Just a bite?” The boy nods, and you reach up – pulling down the nearest one. He gives an unnerving smile of encouragement just before you bite into the peel, and stinging juice floods your tongue. A rogue spurt splashes into your eye and you yelp, dropping it on the ground. Through the burn, doubled-over, you see a fading wisp of blue smoke. Little shit, you think again, more violently this time. “What’s going on?” Loki’s voice is somehow everywhere all at once, smooth and heavy in the stifling air, falling like rain.

You squint up towards it. He’s hanging out a window in the turret, propped on his elbow with that smirk on his face. But no hard-on, you think. At least, not that you can see. Rumour is he’s always sporting at least a semi. Side-effect of all the mirrors in the palace, you figure. From this angle, his taut jawline cuts like an anvil, and his hair hangs apart from his shoulders as he cranes to get a better view. He's not wearing a shirt, and the temperature rises another few degrees. “Are you tormenting her?” he chides casually, and through the half-blind haze, you can tell the boy is squirming. The bronze door swings open from invisible hands, and you shoot the kid a withering glare with your one good eye before disappearing inside. The first, fresh waft of marble-chilled air hits like an orgasm and you let out a sigh of relief. “Come upstairs,” Loki’s velvet voice commands from above. You follow the spiral staircase in the direction of his soft laughter, skirts bunched in one hand, hoping your face isn’t as sweaty as it feels by the time you reach the top.

Ignoring the burn in your lungs, and your eye, you set your face in a mask of cool indifference totally at odds with the rabid excitement clawing in your veins. Long curtains of chiffon which ripple in impossible colours with each waft of breeze surround the turret walls.

Loki lounges in a chaise in the corner, loose green silk trousers slung low on his hips. One leg dangles off the end of the short seat, the other slung to the side as his laugh tapers and his eyes fix on you.

You swallow, unable to stop the rolls of your gaze up his exposed torso above the silk stretched across the bulge in his pants: pale, deep lines of muscle highlighted in painfully arousing definition as he brings a hand behind his head, raking those black waves back as he does it.

“Did he ask you to bite into the lemons?” Loki asks innocently. A solitary dimple crushes into his cheek as one side of his lip curls. You nod, mouth dry and knees weak. Loki sighs with a short tut. “He did the same to my brother. And what’s worse, my brother has been here before many times: he’s just an idiot.” You’re not sure if you should agree. It might be treason; you can never tell. Thankfully – that’s the moment you notice someone in a black robe hunched over at a wide table in the corner, laying out a selection of colourful fabrics so fine they seem to breathe. “Like what you see?” she croaks, wearing a matching smirk to the one Loki sports, just visible beneath a dark hood. You swallow, glancing between them. The two of them burst into laughter; the old woman’s hoarse cackle somehow twists perfectly with Loki’s deep, melodic mirth. Heat crawls up your cheeks. She waves a hand, brushing the hood down to reveal a shock of white hair plaited in a low bun, folds of tanned wrinkles creased in mischief. “Sorry dear, where are my manners? This one brings out the worst in me.” Loki scoffs, bounding from the chaise and crossing the floor in two long strides. He falls to his knees, gathering her hands in his own and places a gentle kiss on the crepey skin. The way he’s looking at her, the wide-eyed sincerity...it makes an unexpected lance of jealousy spear through your chest.

“And you bring out the best in me, my dearest Lagertha,” he says in earnest. “Still beautiful: inside and out.” She pulls the hands from his with a quicksilver grin, curling thick chunk of black hair behind his ear. “Mmm,” she hums, flashing you a wink. “At least where garments are concerned, I do my best. What you do in them, is your concern. Now, onto your usual perch.”

Loki raises a eyebrow and she watches him stand. The two of you follow the methodical shift of his muscular ass in those silky pants all the way to a small, raised block in the centre of the room. “You’re next, dear,” she says and you startle, realising she’s hovering at your shoulder. She turns her head fractionally, hiding the movement of her lips from view. “For now, take a seat, enjoy the show. Hmm?”

You shift to the same seat Loki occupied, still warm from his body. Spreading your skirts, it’s difficult not to feel the weight of the prince’s stare as Lagertha fusses around him.

And suddenly, the questions start. Loki’s eyes narrow and widen in perfect time to the cadence of your answers: hobbies, studies, the time you saw Thor fall into a well on his way back from a tavern. His laugh is music, as sweet and filthy as the best of your dreams – and you find yourself reclining on the chaise just like he was, a fist resting beneath your temple as you talk. It’s nice, it’s…easy. He's interested. And all the while, Lagertha works silently; the only indicator she’s listening at all is the covert smile that occasionally pushes her cheeks up.

“You have to stop making him laugh so much, the hemline will be askew if I get the lengths wrong.” “Nonsense,” Loki smiles down at her, before meeting your eyes again. “Lagertha has never put a stitch out of place. I have every faith in her.” “You’ve never had someone entertain you so much before…”

“I thought you’d have his measurements written down somewhere,” you say like the three of you are old friends. She pushes the silken tape into the hollow of his ankle, stretching up the length of his thigh to the bulge of his crotch. Loki shifts, spine straightening, and he shoots you a wicked smile that makes the pulse in your throat race.

You trace the angle of his chin, the sharp lines of his jaw, imagining how perfectly they’ll fit between your legs; only his strong brow and devastating eyes drunk with pleasure visible as he laps at your clit. A shudder wrenches down your spine.

“I don’t need to take Prince Loki’s measurements, dear,” Lagertha says brightly. ‘I’ve been fashioning garments that make his public weak for many centuries, I think I can remember an inseam.” “So why are…?” “Lagertha and I have an understanding, don’t we darling?” Loki tips her chin up with his finger and even beneath the heavy folds of wrinkles, she blushes. “Lagertha turns a blind eye to my family’s archaic demands of style, and we pretend that she forgets my measurements.” Lagertha meets your stunned expression, offering a self-assured shrug. “I may be old, but my eyes are just fine,” she says, winking. Suddenly, you wonder where Lagertha’s been all your life.

“What…demands of style, do they have?” You sit up, crossing your legs. Loki tilts his head, and you note his gaze drop to your lips. You wonder if he’s been thinking about last night’s kiss-come-dry-hump as much as you have, and as Lagertha loops her hands around his bare abdomen, pulling the measuring silk tight, he lets out a sensual, silent ooof that makes your pussy clench.

“My father and his ilk have very set notions of what ceremonial robes should be; you’ll be shocked to learn I don’t agree. In their eyes, we should parade ourselves in sack cloth and ashes—" “—Sack cloth? How dare you!” Lagertha screeches, mortally wounded. She slaps his thigh again, shooting you a look. “This one has a very specific set of requirements for his ceremonial garbs, ones that tend to highlight his…assets. Things which don’t concern the other family members quite so much – not even when Odin was a strapping one too." She sighs wistfully. "Loki likes the spells woven in to be just so: make it smell like orange blossom when the folds move, cape fluttering to a particular rhythm…that sort of thing.” I fucking knew it; you think with silent vindication. Loki looks down on her with adoration. “And you never disappoint.” “You should be more worried about disappointing her,” she jabs, nodding towards you. A sudden clarity settles in your stomach like a stone. “Wait, is this for our…the…Rite?” Loki looks up, impossibly beautiful; a slat of sunlight splitting the symmetry of his face. “You agree, then?” “If you don’t, I will…” Lagertha mutters loud enough for you to hear, and Loki snorts. “You know the stipulations, Lagertha. You don’t qualify, much as it pains me.” He presses a hand to his chest. “Otherwise, I’d have been at your door on my hands and knees centuries ago.” She slaps his thigh again, and then, they both look at you in perfect sync.

“I agree. I’ll be your partner,” you blurt without an ounce of doubt. As if it could have been any other way. Because now, as his eyes fall to your lips again and his tongue nips over his own; pulling the bottom one between his teeth like he doesn’t know he’s done it, you know he wants it as much as you do. Loki says nothing: a close-lipped smile skating across his lips and a regal bow of his head that his father would be proud of.

The next fifteen minutes passes in pleasantries and then, it’s your turn. You stand on the podium. Even in the strangely cool air in this secret place feels like hot needles; breaths growing short and heart hammering. The fucking…bodice, you curse as Loki’s expression hardens at your distress. He raises his hand, long fingers poised and his eyebrows raise like he’s asking for permission. You give him a small nod. He clicks them. The dress melts into a light cotton shift that blows around your ankles, and the relief is immediate. “Oh my…gods, Loki…that feels amazing,” you moan, head falling back. Lagertha shuffles at your feet. “Getting some practice in, good idea, dear.” Your neck snaps up, catching the back end of her sly smirk, before glancing to Loki reclined on the chair. He shrugs, picking at a bowl of nuts – his eyes are alight with amusement, and you wonder if he's always like this or you’re…special. Don’t think that, you chide. Don’t start being an idiot and actually falling for him. He needs you, that’s all. Just enjoy whatever this is.

Somehow, your measurements don’t take as long as Loki’s did. You’ve got a feeling that has something to do with the agreement they have. She creaks to her feet, shuffling to the wide table and notes something down on a scroll of parchment which reaches the floor. “Oh,” she says suddenly, patting the long folds of her black garb. One extra-nobbled finger rises. “I left something in the other room. Stay here,” she says, hobbling to the stairs. She glances over a hunched shoulder. “Behave yourselves, won’t you?” You figure it would be rude to follow her down the stairs to make sure she doesn’t fall to her death. Looking at Loki, you’re surprised to see the mirth dancing beneath his skin has somehow grown. “What?” you ask, skin prickling under his stare. The god’s dark hair spreads over his bare shoulders, the point of his chin lowered as he observes you beneath his lashes. Something occurs to you. “There’s only one room in this place, isn’t there?”

Without breaking eye-contact, without a falter in that low smirk, Loki nods. Just once. You step off the podium, wobbling a little. Forgot he took my shoes, but somehow you manage to maintain a sultry approach. Loki straightens against the chair’s back, a sudden nervousness flashing in his eyes. A silent conversation seems to pass between you. ‘What are you doing, little owl?’ his raised eyebrow says. ‘What are you doing?’ His legs widen, as if of their own accord. The forest green silk at his crotch stretches tight, an unmistakable bump rising on the right-hand side. You stop in front of him, and his eyes move from their level place on your torso to your face. ‘What are you waiting for?’ the flicker of his lips says.

Hands slide past his temples as you fasten one knee beside the thick line of his thigh – and then the second. You press tight to the crease of his hips, staring down at him. Loki of Asgard gazes up like the prettiest sub you’ve ever seen; but there’s nothing submissive about the slide of his large hands over the curve of your ass. The cotton of the robe he manifested for you is as thin as a spider web – but somehow opaque. You feel his touch like it’s bare skin; the lazy circles he’s making on the small of your back sending sharp shivers tingle across your limbs. “We must be very, very careful…” he murmurs, that famously stoic brow rippling in front of your eyes. You draw a finger down his cheek, cupping the angle of his jaw; brushing your lips against his. He sighs into your throat: shuddering, warm, desperate. Loki’s tongue feels like heaven in your mouth. Growls rumble in his chest as he pushes forward and pulls back in time with your body, completely in sync. Your hand creeps to his cock, fingers grazing the impossibly hard length of him. He must be eight…surely not nine, inches. Gods, what if he doesn’t fit. And then you remember, that isn’t part of the deal. He pulls away as your squeeze at the root, stark fear in his eyes.

“I know…I’ll stay away from the tip, I promise,” you whisper, catching his lips again. Loki melts into it.

His cock was made to fit in your hand – even the outline of it through the silk is like a legendary sword made for your grip. He palms ravenously at your breast with every work of his mouth, lips travelling to the curve of your neck and drawing his teeth over the supple skin they find.

The fact you can’t touch him…really touch him, somehow makes it even hotter; like you’re terrified virgins around the back of the stables. The other hand rocks you dangerously on his lap, and the sudden fear the thin fabric separating you both won’t be enough is very real. Loki’s thumb grazes against your nipple, pinching gently, rubbing in a way that shoots a lance of primal fuck-me energy straight to your cunt. Arousal tides between your thighs: tacky and warm and screaming for you to have him right here. You’ve never been more turned on in your entire life. You didn’t even know it could be like this.

“Gods, I want to taste you,” he husks through gritted teeth. Saliva rings his lips, and Loki’s head falls back against the sofa, back arching under the ghost of your fingertips trailing up the ridges of his manhood like it’s made of spun sugar. “Slower…Norns…I—"

His eyes fly open, pupils as wide and deep as fresh tar and his jaw slack. Loki’s hand flies to your wrist, wrapping it tight and pulling it away. His abdomen clenches as he breathes: slow, heavy, restrained.

“Did you almost…?”

The look in his eyes gives you the answer, and you can barely stifle the look of pride. You lean forwards, noting the shiver that tightens his thighs as your lips fasten around his earlobe. “Four moons, my prince," you whisper, bold as sin. He releases a low, ragged exhale that vibrates through his chest.

“I need to see you,” he says slowly, searching your face, “every day, from now until then.” You roll your lips together. “You said there was a feast?” Loki nods. “The night before – for the next two days, we can do whatever we want.” That smirk lights from its embers. “Almost.”

Your heart drops somewhere around your knees and you shuffle off his lap, shifting to the small edge of the cushion beside him. Suddenly, somehow, time is moving too fast; slipping through your fingers like sand. “Not that I’m…” -desperate- “…but, are you free tonight? Maybe we could go for a walk, or, something.”

Loki’s brows peak. It’s something he isn’t expecting, and suddenly you wonder how much of this charming afternoon has been staged. “I can’t, I’m afraid,” he says, lingering over each word like its passing quality control. “My brother-“ “-It’s fine,” you cut, forcing a smile. He’s a prince. Of course he’s not free, idiot. “Maybe tomorrow.”

At that moment, Lagertha heaves herself into view at the top of the staircase. Her face contorts in a staggeringly fake caricature of innocence. “Oh, I almost forgot you were here.” Out of the corner of your eye, you see Loki pluck a cushion from his side and place it on his lap. But Lagertha misses nothing, and her eyes slide to yours with a sparkle of approval.

“I’ll take my leave,” you say, standing and giving a quick curtsey. Loki calls your name as you cross the floor, but you need to go. You need to think – shake away these ridiculous, girlish thoughts in your brain before you embarrass yourself any further.

A faint glow of green colours your vision and you realise Loki’s magic has restored the dress you came in, and like before…it’s far too tight. At the bottom of the stairs, you press a hand against the marble; steading your breaths. The bronze door swings open.

“Ah, the jester,” a sneering voice craws. “Are you lost?”

You look up, locking eyes with Fandral. A cape slings jauntily over his shoulder: pale blue, rippling silk the same colour as the cloudless sky. His hair is particularly resplendent today, and as much as you’d like to kick him in the balls and run – he does hold clout. People like him, for some reason.

Fandral chuckles, and it makes your stomach turn. He paces forward, the tap of his heels on marble echoing until they stop in front of you. “May I offer a little advice?” he asks, in a way that says you’re hearing it whether you like it or not.

“Prince Loki likes shiny things, pretty things.” His eyes narrow. “He likes playing with new toys; the novelty, you know? I’m sure rumours of his appetites have even spread to whichever hovel you crawled out of.”

You open your mouth to call him a cunt but he raises a finger to his lips, eyes closed like you’ve interrupted the sweetest melody in the nine realms. They open slowly. “I will perform the Rite with Prince Loki, little jester. It will be my thighs shaking under the work of his regal, royal mouth. And do you know why?”

Anger, white hot and thick, curdles beneath your skin.

“Because,” he says with black delight, eyes dropping down to your feet and back to your face, “the pleasure of the subject is only one part of the ritual. You cannot possibly fulfil the second.”

He leans forward, and the scent of his cologne chokes up your nostrils. “But I can.” Fandral twirls the golden lock hanging over his forehead and stalks towards the spiral staircase. The periwinkle cape shimmers as he spins.

“I expect he didn’t tell you about that,” he says with feigned regret, pouting. It crawls into a shit-eating smile, and he offers a wink that makes your blood freeze.

“For him, you’re just a bit of mischief - best you know sooner, rather than later. You'll thank me...sometime. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a certain ceremonial robe to be measured for.”

The click of his heels ascending to the turret room fades as you tear gasping into the open air; heart hammering as you run; his words beating in your ears with every breath.

Chapter Four: Daylight Orgy The Masterlist for The Rite is HERE ❤️🕯️❤️ Tags in comments x

[webslingingslasher]

https://www.tumblr.com/webslingingslasher/721605644038389760/pregnancy-scare-with-fratpeter-what-would-he-do?source=share

Is there ever a pregnancy scare after they're in the girlfriend phase?

*cleaning out my drafts. mentions of pregnancy and a slight suggestion of abortion.*

you groan at the gentle shake you're receiving and you shrug it off while half awake. you're unbelievably tired and the small window of rest you got wasn't enough.

'trouble? c'mon, get up.' peter's hand comes down rough on your backside, you whine and roll over. 'but i'm sleepy-eepy.' the warmth of peter's bed is ripped away from you, he's holding the blanket in his hands.

'now i'm cold.' and while it's not peter's fault and he's only doing what you asked, you feel a little frustrated at the knowledge of not being able to go back to sleep.

'if you get up now, i'll shower with you. ten, nine, eight, seven... that's my girl, super proud of you.'

you might've woken up grouchy, but peter set your mood right in the shower and now you keep giving his arm little kisses. 'my handsome man.' peter speaks into your hairline, 'it's just a white shirt, you heathen.'

you softly dig your teeth into the thick of his bicep while his aunt has her back turned mixing up a side salad. you pull back without a trace and talk into his skin. 'and my man looks so yummy in it.'

'see? that nap energized you more than you thought.'

'that or your precious mouth and nice way you use it on me.' peter gives you a charming smile. 'you're on a roll tonight, trouble.' you wrap your arms around his and give a final mark, it's time to be a smidge respectful in his childhood home.

peter breaks away to refill your wine glass and top may's off. you thank him with a small kiss, may thanks him by asking him to grab rolls from the oven.

---

there's a positive pregnancy test in your shaking hands. each time you blink it becomes more and more clear, you clutch your stomach as if you already had a month nine belly.

'fuck.'

what are you supposed to do?

tears fall fast, they hit your palms and positive test before you look around the bathroom. why are you alone? where's peter? you think of your boyfriend, you think of how royally fucked this makes things.

call it selfish but you wanted peter all to yourself for a few years and now you're jumping forward a hundred steps. 'fuck.' this isn't fair to either of you, you don't have it figured out yet.

you stare at the test one more time, you need to be sure. you close your eyes and count to ten, no matter how many times you try, the answer doesn't change.

'holy fucking shit, i'm-'

about to piss your pants. you fly up from the bed lightning fast, hightailing it to peter's bathroom before holding your head in your hands. you're drowsy and reminding yourself it was just a dream, but it felt so real.

but, no, just a dream. it's a dream because you're not pregnant. you just had your period... you just had it... it's only been... your stomach drops, why can't you remember? in four seconds you are wide, wide awake and you're going for your phone on peter's nightstand.

it's three in the morning and you haven't had a period in at least five weeks.

'peter, get up.' you're not soft spoken or gentle, you're full of terror and he's about to be too. you push at his arm roughly, it stirs him just enough you could break through the sleep.

'peter, get up right now.' a slow whine, you're not playing and his stubbornness is about to have you wake up the entire apartment complex. 'get the fuck up, peter.'

you're mean but it's the only thing stopping you from going full blown psycho and curling into a screaming, crying ball on his floor.

'peter,' you rush out his name one more time, this time he responds.

'what’s go-‘

'i think i'm pregnant and i'm about to freak the fuck out and i really, really need you to keep me from doing that right now.' it hits all at once, you try to breathe but you can't. it's peter's turn to fly up from the bed, he only goes as far as he needs to wrap you in a tight hug.

'trouble,' the name makes you sob, you really are trouble. 'shh, you're okay, we're okay.' it's not fair of peter to hold you calmly as if he's not scared shitless himself. 'we're so fucked, peter. i ruined everything.'

your mind is spinning and your boyfriend is keeping you grounded. 'nothing is ruined, nothing is fucked. we're okay, i promise we're okay.' no, peter's not thinking how you are. he doesn't understand what you just did to you both.

'i did, i really, really did. we just graduated, we don't live together, you're still waiting for that research position to open and my boyfriend slash baby daddy is going to die because he's also spider-man.'

it's all ruined. you don't even know what you ruined and that's the worse part, you ended it before it started.

'hey, trouble. one thing at a time, okay? we have time to figure it out if we need to. do we need to go get a test?' you nod, the idea of your dream turning into reality makes you want to sob.

'speaking of dying, i killed the last three plants ethan gave me. so, how nice is that? a dead dad and a mom who kills.' peter hugs you tighter, he wants to push all your suffering into him right now. you go one further, this is the final nail in the coffin.

'what if i'm not ready to be a mom?'

'we have time to figure-' he doesn't understand. 'no, what if i'm not ready to be a mom?' a soft kiss on your forehead tells you he read between the lines, it also tells you he doesn't resent you for the idea.

'i'm here for you, okay? i'm here for whatever decision you make and we'll figure it out together. we're a team. and i promise you, trouble, i'm not dying. kid or no kid, i won't let spider-man be the thing that does me in.'

you want this with peter, you really do. just... not now. a baby this young was never in the cards, you feel like you shouldn't be in this position but you played stupid games and won an unexpected prize.

'fuck. peter, i really think i might be pregnant.'

peter's being a strong front because you need it but he's just as unprepared as you are. 'have you been feeling sick?' you shake your head, you've felt normal until this very moment.

'i had i dream i was staring at a positive test and it felt so real that it woke me up and then i couldn't remember the last time i had my period so i looked at my phone and we're charting into week five.'

peter almost lets a curse slip, he contains it for you. 'okay, we're okay. i promise we're okay, we just need to make sure if you're pregnant or not. can you wait until morning or do we need to go now?'

peter using 'you' and 'pregnant' in the same sentence makes you want to throw up and you can't blame it on potential morning sickness. you're disgusted in yourself. this wasn't the timeline.

you couldn't last another few hours in this state, you'd go mad in record timing. 'now. right now.' in under a minute peter is stuffing a hoodie over your head and a shirt over his. you feel yourself on the verge of a breakdown but peter's outstretched hand tells you he's here for it.

---

'what if you resent me in like...' peter's already shaking his head, you can't put a date on it, what if it's now? 'wait, is it already happening? do you hate me?'

peter stops with you outside of the bodega right up the road from his apartment, he had been listening to your spiral the entire time with a calm demeanor.

'stop. i know this wasn't the plan and i know this isn't what we wanted right now but i don't want you thinking i could ever hate you or blame you for this. i wish i could make you feel better about this, trouble. i love you, i love you more than i have ever loved anything. i love you more than i thought was possible. i love you more than any song or book or movie could ever describe. and guess what? i'd love our kid just the same. shit, maybe even more cause you gave me one.'

is it hormones or is it because that's the best thing he could've ever told you at this moment? you crush him in a hug, he's a little surprised but holds you just the same. 'thank you.' for the first time since you woke up, you're able to breathe.

peter doesn't say you're welcome because you don't have anything to thank him for. he's doing what he'd do if this was however many years in the future and when it was a bit more planned. 'i didn't bring my wallet.'

peter scoffs, 'you think i'd make you pay for this?'

'i already feel like a burden.'

'trouble.' you bite your tongue, if peter can be nice enough to hold a poker face, you can stop telling yourself he secretly hates you. you need an answer and it lies inside the shop in a little box.

peter's holding the test, you couldn't bring yourself to touch it. you're standing in front of the refrigerator section staring at the drink selection, more than half focused on your reflection instead. peter catches on and taps your hand, you blink awake and look at three different cans before your brain hurts.

'what should i get?'

'whatever you want, trouble.'

'i can't think.' you can't. it's either total silence and dissociation or racing thoughts, you don't know peace anymore. if you're carrying his child, peter can pick a drink for you.

'hm. are you in the mood for something flavored?'

sweet. sugary. something to coat your mouth with a lasting aftertaste even if the news you were about to receive was on the bitter side.

'yeah.' peter nixes the three shelfs of water. 'carbonated or not?' too much of a choice, you shrug half-heartedly. 'i don't know.' peter looks behind him, a different choice entirely.

when's the last time you had an icee?

you don't notice peter walk off, you slipped back into staring at yourself in a baggy hoodie. if you jumped forward six months, how tight would it be?

peter grabs a small cup, looks at the clear-blue box in his hand and grabs a large one instead. a mixture of cherry and coke, it's nearly freezing his hand. it's going to be enough to keep your mind in the land of the living.

you find peter, lean against his back and close your eyes, he makes small movements and allows you to rest your weight on him. you're tired. mentally and emotionally. 'trouble?' you perk up again, peter halfway turns to hand over a frozen drink big enough for four.

'a slushie?' you give it a taste, you sip it down until your throat burns. 'heck yeah. and look at that, you love it.' he's not wrong. you can't remember the last time you had one and this somehow just made things a little better.

'it's making me feel better.'

'see? everyone needs some sugar now and then.'

---

for someone who made peter get out of bed at three in the morning and force him down to the corner store for a pregnancy test, you sure can't stomach the idea of taking it.

if it's a no, it'll be the biggest breath of fresh air you've ever had. if it's a yes, you and peter's life is about to forever change and you don't think you're ready for that yet.

you might not get peter to yourself for a few years, but you have him tonight and that's comfort enough. 'ready?' you intertwine your fingers with peter as he asks and pulls you out the front door. it's a quiet walk back sharing your cup of sugar before you silently creep back inside his aunt's apartment.

'ready to pee?'

you shake your head, peter offers his laptop up. ten minutes into a show, you have to go. fifteen minutes, it's pressing. twenty and you're about to burst.

you're not ready for the answer.

you'd be a bad mom.

'i drank wine tonight, peter. that's so bad, i'm such a bad person.'

'you're not a bad person, trouble. guess what? no one knows they're pregnant until they know. it's not your fault you kept living life how you normally do.'

you might've fucked things up but you chose the best person to do it with.

'i have to pee.' for just a teeny, tiny second- peter's guard faults. he's just as scared of the results, it fills you with solace. you're not the only one here who doesn't want this, even if he won't tell you so.

'want me to come with?'

you shake your head and don't even look at the box when you swipe it from his desk. your hand shakes as you tear the blue plastic, it's dawned on you that this is the first time you've ever taken one. you never thought you’d be here.

you hold your eyes closed while you do it as if the results would show immediately. you snap the cap back into place and hide it behind you. starting a five minute timer, you wait on the answer to the future.

poking your head out from his bathroom you clear your throat. 'counting down.'

'how are you feeling? still doing okay?' you nod, you're really thankful he has your back tonight. it's nice to know that when you're truly falling apart, he's your backbone.

'i love you.'

'i love you too, sweetheart.'

you've been so good and so brave this whole time, you haven't cried once. but that just broke you and you can't place why. you try to will away the sting in your eyes, it doesn't work.

a broken whimper and you can't hold it in anymore.

you fall apart and before you could collapse to the floor, peter's tucking you into his chest and kissing your head. 'shh, you're okay. i promise you're okay, you have me. you'll always have me.'

'promise?'

'i promise, trouble. don't you remember? i couldn't let you go if i tried.'

'i know you said to stop but i'm really sorry and i need you to know that.' peter feels his heart break, he must've done something wrong at some point to make you think he could ever be upset at you for this.

but peter thinks you need him to accept it. 'it's okay. i know you're sorry and it's okay.' you relax and exhale into him, you stop your tears because crying is useless and it's only making you feel worse.

'i'm being so annoying, aren't i?'

'not in the slightest, do you see how long it took you to cry?'

you sniff and wipe away any stray tears before giving peter a pathetic pucker. 'kiss, please.' you're granted the slow and soft kind, the one that is just pure care and adoration.

'will you promise to keep having sex with me if i'm pregnant?'

peter can't hold in his laugh, you hear yourself and giggle with him. 'i promise, trouble. you can get it anytime. i mean, you already do, but with my baby in you- you'll get absolutely anything you want, whenever you want.'

'even if i want cheetos at two in the morning?' peter thinks that's light work, he graces your cheek with a kiss of the same kind. 'especially then.' it's not always rainbows and butterflies. 'what about when my belly pops, my hormones hit the ceiling, my feet are swollen, i'm hot all the time, and i just constantly scream at you?'

'you wouldn't do that.' well, you're not planning on it but you have no idea what effects this will have on you. 'but if you did, i'd take it in stride. if i was carrying around twenty pounds that made me constantly want to piss my pants, i'd be grumpy too.'

'we're gonna be so tired.'

'we already are.'

you chew on your bottom lip for a moment. 'what if i get stretch marks?'

'from growing my kid? couldn't think of anything sexier, trouble.'

it's not what was planned, but if this is how it'll be, you'll be okay. peter was right, you would figure it out. together.

'you have an answer for everything.'

'that's why you love me so much. you needed to find someone who could keep up with you.'

'and oh boy can you keep up and catch me.'

you match his smile, you feel good. you feel like things aren't so ruined now. 'it's my favorite thing to do.' you scrunch your nose up at him before giving a small jump to your alarm tone.

you end the timer. 'oh god.' that.

'don't undo what we just did. no more panic, we're okay with this, right? if it's a yes, we're doing this?'

it's terrifying to think you could be a parent in under a year but something tells you that you'll be just fine with peter by your side. 'yeah, we're doing this.'

peter nods towards his bathroom door, 'ready?'

for the first time tonight, you feel confident. 'yes.' you back up for the results, wrapping your palm around the middle until you're next to peter again.

you both take a deep breath and you finally get to see the answer.

peter exhales out, 'holy shit.'

your shoulders slump when you mutter out, 'thank god.'

'holy fuck, i thought my stomach was about to come out of my ass for a second. don't get me wrong if it was-'

'i was right there with you, petey. we could've figured it out but thank god we don't have to.' you hold a hand over your heart and feel calm wash over you. 'are we bad people for being happy about this?'

peter shakes his head. 'no, not at all. we're not ready for that yet, but now we know we could be.'

you think you're speaking for the both of you and you think it needs to be said. 'to be clear, we do want kids, just later down the road. and this was just a little scare but now that we know we don't want any right now, we should be a little more careful about how we do things, right?'

'a hundred percent, trouble. you said it before i could.'

'good.' you take another peek at the test, double confirmation. 'now can you please feed me? i'm famished.'

even if you weren't pregnant, peter would do anything for you.

'anything my baby wants, she gets.'

[ihavethedreamies]

In the Doghouse | Yeosang

Kang Yeosang - ATEEZ

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~4.8k

Pairing: Dog-Hybrid!Yeosang x Cat-Hybrid!AFAB!Reader

Genre: Hybrid AU!, Historical/Period, Reader-Insert, Fluff, Smut, Some Plot, Strangers-to-Friends-to-Lovers

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Pet Names (Kitten, Love), Swearing, Kissing, Biting/Marking, Bonding/Mating, Heat/Rut, Pheromones, Oral (F! Receiving), Unprotected Sex (This is pre-birth control so…), Breeding Kink (u3u)

Trigger Warning: There is some talk of abuse and/or neglect in this. It doesn't go into detail, but the reader in beginning is living with a cruel relative. It's not related to Yeosang or the relationship between the two. Also, Yeosang is a 'Police Dog', but there is very little talk of police and cops.

Author's Note: This is NOT Omegaverse, but they do both go into rut/heat. They have animals ears and tails and he's got a knotted doggy cock. Yeosang is supposed to be a Doberman, even though the breed wasn't in this time period. This is set in the late Victorian Era of London, and sorry if it's not completely accurate to the time.

I will be doing all the members and uploading them as I go. I normally like to upload a whole series at a time but I'm trying to pack to move.

-> Series Hub <-

🦁 Hongjoong's 🦁

🐻 Jongho's 🐻

🐯 San's 🐯

I am cross-posting this on Archive and Wattpad. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other sites. Happy reading!

"Geddat fuckin' cat!" You heard the storekeeper’s shout echo through the narrow street as you dashed in the opposite direction. You clutched the bag closer to you, hoping to hide it from prying eyes. You purposefully wrapped your tail around your leg, hoping to make it less obvious, ears flattening to your head to blend in with your hair. Turning a narrow corner into an alley, you heard some footsteps against the cobblestone behind you, but they ran past where you had entered. Leaving the alley into the opposite street, you turned the way you had come, back toward your house. Sliding into another back alley, you placed the strings of the bag in your mouth. Without stopping, you jumped up onto the ladder hanging down from your second-story window. Climbing up the rungs, you pulled the window open all the way and jumped into your bedroom. Unhooking the rope and wood ladder from the windowsill, you reeled it in and shut the window. Panting for breath, you rested against the wall, sliding down so you were sitting on the floor. Heaving for air, you glanced at the bag that you had brought it, laying in a heap on the floor under the window. Finally, when you could breathe easily enough, you got on your knees so you could reach and grab the sack, opening it. Inside, the two loaves of bread were still steaming and your stomach rumbled in desire.

"Man, I wanna fish…" You sniffed in displeasure, tail whipping angrily behind you. It was bad enough you had to steal food to eat, but all you could typically manage was some bread or maybe potatoes. As you stood to close your door so you could enjoy your haul, you heard banging from downstairs. Someone was pounding on the door. You heard your aunt call for the person to hold on and you stood still, staring at the open door of your bedroom. Did they really find you? They never had before…

"Hello, madam. I hate to bother you, but I was told that a thief might have made their way into your second story window." You heard from down the hall, at the base of the stairs. Your eyes widened in panic and you prayed that your aunt would cover for you. Fat chance.

"Second story? You've got to… (Y/N) get down here, right now!" She screeched and your ears flattened at the noise. Stepping forward as quietly as you could, you stuck your head out just enough to look past the door frame to see your aunt standing halfway up the stairs. Her own tail was swinging back and forth with ire and her arms were crossed. The nastiest look you had ever seen was on her face and you clicked your tongue.

"What did you steal this time, you lazy stray!" She hissed and you shuffled out of the room, bag hanging limply from your hand at your side. There was a man in a police uniform in the doorway, and next to him…A dog hybrid. He was…beautiful, honestly. Prettier than you for sure. His hair was longer, with a slight wave at the end of the black strands, two tall, pointed ears sticking out from the top of his head. You couldn't see a tail, so it was probably docked into a nub. The hairs at the back of your neck and base of your tail rose, shoulders tensing as you got to the top of the staircase. His sharp eyes met yours, and you knew that's how they found you. Fucking police dogs…

"Give me that!" Your aunt swiped the bag from you, her claw-like nails scratching your hands, making you pull them back. Holding your other hand over the red marks, you glared hard at her when she opened the sack.

"Bread?! You stole bread?!" She hissed, fierce eyes searing holes into your skull.

"Maybe if you didn't fuckin' starve me, I wudduna had ta'!" You hissed back and you flinched as you saw her raise her hand.

"Now, madam, it’s nothing to harm her over. We'll take her to the station." A smooth, deep voice prompted you to open your eyes, seeing the guard dog holding the wrist of your nasty aunt. His grip was loose, so as not to dig his thick claws into your aunt's skin. He should have though… Your aunt took her arm away from him when he let her go and you were more willing to go with him then stay there any longer. Honestly, jail would be a welcome change. You followed the dog down the stairs and your aunt went as well, handing the stolen loaves to the human officer. With a strong hand on your bicep, the police dog led you further down the street, his partner following.

"Did you really steal because she starves you?" The elder officer asked you, his tone gentler than you expected. Your aunt wasn't poor, by any means, but you lived in what was equivalent to a storage room.

"I get a potato every other day if I don't." Your tail flicked nervously, ear flicking when a drop of water hit it. Glancing up at the sky, you sneered at the gathering clouds, feeling another drop land on your face. You wiggled your nose, feeling the drop most likely wash a trail of dirt off your face.

"She doesn't feed you any meat?" The dog furrowed his brow, letting you go, eyes zigzagging over you. It was evident your clothes were somehow too big and too small at the same time, and your boots were old.

"Alley bastards don't deserve meat." You spat out the words you were so used to hearing. It wasn't your fault that your mother slept with a commoner, but your aunt and grandparents took it out on you. The only reason your mother's sister took you in was because she got a tax cut for listing you as living with her.

"How old are you, Miss (Y/N)?" The human officer asked.

"Twenty…somethin'…" You weren't for sure, never celebrated your birthday.

"I think the baker will be willing to forgive if we return the bread. Yeosang?" The officer looked at the dog and you did as well.

"The poverty shelter doesn't take cats, does it? Just dogs?"

"Yessir." The dog, Yeosang, sighed, glancing back to you. The rain seemed to be waiting as well, only a few drops falling as you looked nervously between the two men. What were they going to do with you?

"She could stay with me, if that is alright with her." Yeosang cast you a look, his gaze warm and you blinked in shock. Charity? Wow, you had heard of it before…

"Any where’s better than auntie's…" Your tail was still whipping and the elder officer nodded with a hum.

"Thank you, son. You may get off your shift early. Make sure she gets a good hot meal." The human smiled warmly himself and headed off toward the bakery, bread bag in hand.

"Are ya sure? I'm notta hassle?"

"No, kitten. Let's get you some meat." The hand that had been on your arm went to your upper back so he could pull you to walk next to him, then he led you presumably to his home. Right as you got under the awning over his front door, the rain started to pour.

~*~*~

"Slow down, love. There's plenty." The dog was way gentler with you than you expected. His home was nice and warm, cozy, and smelled good. He had presented you with bread that he had bought the day before, as well as some cured meats, cheese, even some fruit. Not sure where to start, you reached carefully for a slice of summer sausage and then your vision went red, your appetite raring to full force. Yeosang huffed in amusement, able to hear the rapid purr you let out as you ate. When he had removed his uniform coat, he just had on a thin white button up underneath. The shirt did very little to hide the obvious muscle underneath, the buttons struggling to hold still over his chest. As you had started to eat, he rolled the sleeves up to above his elbow, showing toned forearms. He ate more leisurely, and once you were no longer ravenous, you slowed your pace. You took each chance you got to look over him, he was absolutely stunning.

"Yer' from the far east, yah?" You asked around a mouthful of different things you had just shoved in. He hummed with a nod and your eyes flicked to the water ewer he had set on the table and he poured some into a stein. Eagerly taking the drink, you chugged it down, a little bit of the water dripping past your bottom lip. Letting you a groaning exhale after you had gotten everything down, you slumped in your chair. You hadn't felt so full in so long and you weren't expecting to get a nice meal when you stole the bread.

"Are ya' like…a saint or somethin?" You asked, not sure why he would help you.

"Pardon me?"

"You know, like those folks in the Bible that help…saints or whatever…" Your nail clicked against the glass cup you were holding. You weren't very educated, but you tried to retain what little bit of information you had learned.

"Oh, um, no. I think I would just qualify as generous." He smiled bashfully and you let out an 'ah' in realization.

"Thanks for the meal…I um, I don't want to go home but…"

"You don't have to go back there, kitten." The dog smiled, his own pointed ear drooping a bit along with his pitying gaze. Normally that look pissed you off, but you just felt bashful then.

"Do you have somewhere I can go, then?"

"I told you; you can stay here. I have a spare room anyway. It's hard for women to find work, harder yet for a cat hybrid…" He paused to think it seemed.

"I-I can clean! Or, uh…well, I'm good at physical stuff, I can run…places." You weren't sure what else specifically you could do, your only 'skill' was cleaning. Or stealing.

"If you want to help with housekeeping, that's up to you. I am more worried how people might see a man and woman living together outside of marriage." The dog grimaced a bit.

"Oh. Right." You hadn't thought about that… It was one thing for normal everyday people, but he was a public officer.

"What if ya’ hire me? As yer' official housekeep? That wouldn't look suspect, yeah?" You offered.

"That would probably work. For now. Here." He stood up, motioning for you to follow him. You did so, going toward the narrow front entryway and then up the steep stairs to his second floor. There was a room to the left, but he let you into the one on the right, the door right on the landing. It was pretty bare, and to most, small. However, it was way bigger than where you had been before and had a real bed.

"I-I can really stay here?" You felt your throat tighten, stepping further in.

"Of course, love. Tomorrow we can figure out the details, why don't you get some sleep?" You turned back to look at him, that warm and sincere smile still present. Overcome with emotion, you pounced forward, wrapping your arms around his toned middle, cheek to his chest.

"Thank you, Yeosang!" You sniffed, trying not to bawl. He rested his hand on your head, thumb rubbing the back of your ear.

"You're welcome, (Y/N)."

~*~*~

Over the next two months, you lived the best days of your life. Yeosang had commented that his house had never looked so clean, even though it wasn't messy before. After the third day there, and you had thrown up from overeating, you paced yourself more. Finally, you were used to being well fed, and you no longer looked like you were actually starving. The second week you were there, he had taken you to a tailor and bought you two new outfits, ones that actually fit. You preferred the simple shirt and pants, but he also got you a simple dress that was a soft blue. You cried. You had been crying a lot, so touched by how sweet he was being.

One day, you were in the market to buy a few things. No one that you had stolen from in the past knew it was you. Combined with being healthy and clean, you were also in a nice dress and your hair was done.

"(Y/N)!?" The voice made you stop cold, hand still reaching for a squash on the seller's stall table. Your aunt.

"You stupid twat!" She screeched and before you registered where she was, her hand was in your hair, claws scratching your scalp. You yowled, dropping your basket, potatoes and apples rolling away. People gasped, turning to watch the fight, but not stepping in to help.

"I've had to pay more than ever now that you left! I had to pay a bloody fine as well, endangering a ward or something! You little whore! I know you're living with a man not your husband! What would your mother think, you raising your tail for a dog?!" She was screaming, hissing and spitting. You tried to get her to let you go, but not wanting to fight and ruin your dress. You knew the words she was speaking weren't true, but the people around didn't, and you didn't want the negative gossip to get back to Yeosang. When a blowing whistle hit your ears, you mewled in relief, rapid footsteps nearing. The horrible woman was pulled away from you, and you slumped into a pile, holding your head.

"(Y/N), are you okay, love?" Yeosang was quick to your side, looking over your head. A growl was rumbling in his chest as he shot a searing glare at the other woman. You didn't look up to see who the other officers were subduing her, burying your head in Yeosang's chest to hide.

"Oh, kitten." He whined, holding you to him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he easily lifted you, carrying you toward home, ignoring the stares and whispers.

As you sat on the table, he dabbed at the scratches with a cloth dipped in alcohol, the disinfectant stinging. You winced again and he apologized, trying to be gentle.

"Did you hear what she said?" you whispered. Your eyes were glossing over the bottle next to you, brain trying to process the letters you saw. Yeosang had been teaching you, but you could only read the big word, 'VODKA'.

"It's not true, so it doesn't matter." he whispered back.

"Maybe…I should leave?" Your voice cracked, really not wanting to follow through with the suggestion. The cloth on your head left and he stepped back, hand on your chin to tilt your head back. He looked over your face, noticing your red blotchy cheeks and glossy eyes.

"Why?"

"Because…what if it comes back and hurts you…?" You sniffed, trying to avoid his eyes. His hand left your chin, but then both went to cup your cheeks.

"(Y/N), kitten, I would be heartbroken if you left." The dog's deep voice was so warm, soft, like his hugs.

"Yeah?" He wiped a tear away from your eye and smiled, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to yours.

"Yes. If you're so worried…" He drifted off, one hand leaving your jaw to take yours.

"What if we get married?" He finished and it was like time stopped. Your ears started to ring and you slowly lifted your head back up to look him in the eye again.

"What?" Your voice was so soft that if he wasn't a dog or another hybrid, he probably wouldn't have heard.

"(Y/N), I know it's only been a couple months, but I've fallen in love with you. I want you to stay with me." He brought your hand to his mouth, kissing your knuckles. You burst into tears then, crying hard, harder than you had before, babbling nonsense.

"I-I-I want to stay too!" You cried and he pulled you into his chest, thumb rubbing the back of your ear.

"Then?"

"I wanna be your wife." You mumbled, sniffing hard so you didn't drip snot on his uniform shirt.

The next few minutes were nearly a blur, your mind finally caught up as your back hit his bed, his lips fervently pressing to yours. His breath was heaving, chest rumbling and his sandalwood and rosewater scent was growing stronger. You felt like he was going to swallow you whole, and you wondered why it was said cats and dogs didn't get along. You had never felt so loved unconditionally and wholly but by Yeosang, a dog, despite that you were a cat. An alley cat at that. In that moment though, you truly saw him as a big, strong working dog, easily surrounding the little stray cat that had been taken into his home. But instead of growling and scaring the little kitty, the big pup had laid down and wrapped around the small cat, protecting and loving her.

"Your tongue's rough." He huffed in amusement, only pulling back a second before his mouth sealed back to yours, tongue wrapping around your smaller one. You whimpered and mewled, head growing hazy from his kisses. Your back arched as his mouth left yours, trailing to your jaw and down to your neck. As he unbuttoned your dress, he licked and sucked over the skin revealed, tugging at the fabric to get it over your breasts so he could shuck it off. The dress floated down to the floor behind him, settling on the floor with a flutter. Once you were down to your undergarments, nothing more than a thin chemise and light set of stays, he sat up to kneel over you. He had luckily taken his uniform jacket off earlier, because in his haste to remove his shirt, two of the buttons flew off, clattering against the wood floor. You had seen him shirtless before, but never had the chance to touch, so you had to take the chance. Yeosang chuckled, his ears drooping a bit in pleasure as your small, warm hands ran over the smooth skin of his chest and stomach. He really was physical perfection. Biting your lip, your hands went to work on his belt and he took the chance to untie your stays. You felt a little more air flow easier threw your lungs as he pulled the garment off and you squeaked as he moved. Quickly, so quickly, he pulled your chemise off as well, leaving you bare, and essentially picked you up and tossed you back up the bed. As you tried to get your bearings, you didn’t notice him resting his stomach on the bed.

“Y-Yeosang!” Your nails dug fast into the sheets as his long tongue lapped a path through your slit. A growl rumbled from him and his hands held your thighs apart so he could slide his tongue into your cunt, the feeling made you twitch and shiver. He was breathing so hard through his nose you felt the puffs of air against your clit, tail flicking against the bed. Something was rising fast in your tummy, and he could feel your gummy walls clench unevenly around his tongue. The dog’s nose bumped your clit once more and you nearly squealed as your orgasm hit. He eagerly drank up the slick that flowed from you, licking his chops as he pulled away once you were done. He smiled down at you, softly, admiring your red face and heaving chest. Before you could really come to reality, he had flipped you onto your stomach. There was some rustling, and you had been too busy trying to register what had just happened, the next thing you knew, his bare body was laying over yours. He didn't rest down too hard, he was bigger and heavier, but you shivered at his skin on yours, hard chest to your back. You shivered as his hard cock nestled in the crook your ass.

"Big as my fuckin' arm…" You huffed to yourself and he chuckled, biting his lip, chest rumbling.

"Think your sweet cunt can take it?" His deep voice right in your ear was in itself orgasmic and your core was rapidly heating. You were pretty sure you hadn't had a heat in so long from being in poor health, and so it seemed your system needed to compensate. Your whole body was rapidly rising in temperature, he could tell from where his skin pressed to yours. The delightful scent of vanilla and lavender you normally exuded was growing stronger, the aroma filling his lungs. You whimpered when his strong arm wrapped under your stomach, lifting your hips into the air as he grinded his cock against your weeping folds. He wasn't normally one for crass language like you, but he was spewing sweet filth as you tried to formulate a thought to respond. The heat was nearly growing painful, and even though he was huge and you inexperienced, you needed him inside.

"Such a pretty pussy, kitten. Bet it's leaking so much to let me in. Take my cock and my knot." He groaned when he ran his thumb up your slit, gathering your slick that was nearly dripping from your core.

"Want me to ruin your cunt, love? Split you open, fuck you silly, then pump you full. I wonder if a kitty can even get pregnant by a dog. Guess we'll find out…" It seemed your heat was sending him into a semi-rut, his mind was full of nothing but sinking into you and fucking you into the mattress. He had honestly wanted to for weeks but had tried to keep the thoughts away.

"Y-Yeosang! Please!" You mewled, nails digging into his pillow, tail flailing back and forth. You yowled when his strong hand grabbed your tail at the base, wrapping some of the length around his fist, tugging on it. He smirked as your cunt let out another glob of slick from the sensation, your rapid purr growing in strength.

"Not just my wife, but my mate. Want your womb to hold my pups." The male chuckled, adjusting to press the fat head of his leaking cock against your core. You shivered, a bit worried he was too big, but you needed him. And his knot.

"Hold on, kitten." He licked his lips to prevent the saliva that had gathered from leaking, holding the base of your tail and hip for leverage. Your breath hitched, cunt spasming as he started to press in. He watched in delight as your folds eagerly stretched and sucked his cock in, even more slick spilling out, leaving a puddle on his bed. The base of his cock had already started to swell a bit, but he wasn't going to knot you so soon. No, he was going to have his way with you for a good long while first.

"Fuck!" You squealed, claws puncturing his bedding, teeth digging into the pillow. His hot cock was searing through you, the burn of the stretch just fueling the fire in your womb further. Tears sprung to your eyes and you gasped for air, intense waves of pleasure crashing over you, sending you to climax before he was even halfway in. Yeosang felt your gummy walls clench and pulse around him, and he threw his head back, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he groaned. The grip on your tail tightened just a bit and you keened at his slow ease, but his restraint was wavering.

"J-just do it, 'Sang~" You mewled, sparks of arousal shooting up your spine from your tail. He didn't hesitate with your consent, and he snapped his hips to bury the last few inches into your hot vice. Your vision spotted as the head of his dick pressed at your womb, hips pressed to your backside. He sat there for a bit, letting you get used to the searing pleasure, grinding down into you every so often. As he heard your breathing even out a bit more, you let out a big shudder and he released your tail, falling forward so his hands caught him on the bed. The dog let out a small whimper, furrowing his brow. A clawed hand went to your sternum and he helped you hold yourself up on your arms so your back was parallel to his chest. His nose ran over your shoulder, right new to your neck and your body tensed in preparation, your cunt tightening even further. With a little lick, his teeth dug into your skin, and he sucked and licked as he bit, sealing you as his mate. Your eyes rolled back into your head, most of your strength leaving you as you came again, spurts of slick drenching his groin and balls. Pulling back from the mark, he licked the blood away and you fell onto your chest, using what little strength you had left to grip the already torn sheets.

"Ready?" He didn't wait for your response, slowly puling his hips back, cock halfway in, then fucked back into you. You yelped, his rapid and hard pace was immediate, no build up, and your brain ended up as fucked as your cunt. You were babbling and mewling, tail thrashing before he gripped it once more, holding your hips still as his battered against your ass. His free hand snaked down to your stomach, and he groaned at the shallow bulge that would form each time he buried to the hilt, your tiny body straining to take him. You bit the pillow again, using it to muffle your scream as he plowed through another one of your orgasms. His thrusts grew shallower, burying deep each time and fucking back in just by an inch, hard and grinding. Your eyes crossed when the base of your core started to burn once more, pussy searing as his knot started to swell. He whimpered between grunts and growls, head thrown back, sweat slick black strands tickling his upper back.

"I'm going to breed you, kitten. Fill you with my seed till you have my pups. Even if it takes all night." He groaned as your cunt fluttered once more and he gave one more hard thrust, letting his knot swell. You gasped and heaved at the feeling; he hadn't even begun to cum yet. When the hot spurts started to fill you, flooding your weeping womb, you nearly passed out. The sticky fluid dowsed the fire that your body had set and his hips jolted with each squirt, pressing as deep as he could. As the waves of his orgasm faded, he let your tail go, falling forward once more, heaving for breath himself. You were breathing heavily, but otherwise quiet and he glanced down to look at your face. You were still conscious, barely, eyes staring blankly at the wall, tears drying on your cheek and drool had left a dark spot under your mouth. Gently, so much so compared to his rough fucking, he pet your hair, pulling a few strands away from your sweaty brow.

"I love you, (Y/N)." He whispered and he noticed your lips quirk gently into a small smile.

"Love you too~"

-> Series Hub <-

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[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

We will protect you. Part IV

Self-Aware! BSD Characters x GN! Reader

Description: ADA and you discuss, what you manage to uncover, with the rest of the Gang. But, you never expected to see three particular names in the list.

Warning: OOC. English is my second language.

Part III

Part V

_______

You were sitting one of the couches in the living room, between Yosano and Kouyou. You and ADA returned home fifteen minutes ago and were telling others, what happened today.

ADA members were the ones, who did most of the talking. They explained in details, what they do to Stalker. And it was impressive in their own way. Yes, today, they mostly used physical power, but, some people only learn, that dog us angry, only when said dog bite them. And, while it was strange to have Dazai of all people using raw power, you feel so grateful towards him for protecting you today. You were grateful towards all Armed Detective Agency members, Katai and Natsume for today's protection.

Ranpo finally stopped talking and took a list of Stalker's accomplices from the table.

"With Stalker's phone we had some evidence, that will help us punish them severely. But, we need to punish a few more people. Stalker's accomplices..."

Everyone's gazes became darker. Ranpo start reading out loud. Poe took Stalker's phone and Katai turn on his laptop.

"First names, Emily Glover and Eugene Porcher..." You sighed, hearing these names.

"My university professors. They are responsible for job assignment during Charity Fair."

Poe start scrolling through Stalker's phone, trying to find Stalker's chat with anyone from this two.

"No... No... Found it! It seems, that Stalker posed as poor shy crushing student, who just want to see you from afar. And the café were the best option for them, because of all this windows," Poe's hands were shaking because of anger. "Your two professors didn't even question them, after you started to tell everyone about the Stalker."

You rub your forehead and lean your back on Yosano. She immediately put her hand on your head and start playing with your hair.

"Okay... Next?"

Ranpo cleared his throat.

"Johnathan Burke, manager of the café..."

This time, Katai clarify his reasons.

"Stalker pay them for keeping you on Closing Shift."

Ranpo named the third accomplice.

"Samson Beck, police officer, it seems, he and Stalker knew each other. Ollie Foster and Lennie Finch, two students. They..."

You finished.

"Don't like me. Especially after I moved in with you."

Ranpo nodded.

"Yes, unfortunately. And, there are three more names. I have never heard them before. Justin Blackwood, Angela Blackwood and Tory Swanson."

You perked up, hearing these names. You jumped from the couch and snatched the list from the Ranpo.

"And here I hoped that it was a hallucination and I didn't see these three names."

Everyone stared at you. You quickly explained.

"Justin and Angela are my uncle and aunt. [C/N]'s parents."

Kunikida adjusted his glasses.

"I assume, they also liked to call in the middle of the night?"

You mumble something and shrug. You took a pen from the table and start spinning it, trying to calm down.

"Maybe? At least, they never called me in the middle of the night. As for Tory, she is my cousin, I guess. We are not blood related, she is Justin's niece."

Atsushi looked puzzled.

"Okay... What do they get from helping Stalker?"

Poe, who was checking chats, spoke.

"Well, they mentioned something about... inheritance and old hotel. And, being ready to help Stalker get you."

You snatched the phone from Poe and stare at the screen.

It was true. You recognize your aunt's number.

SNAP

Blue ink from broken pen coated your hand. The plastic remains of the pen fall down on the floor. You were breathing hard. You gave the phone back to Poe.

"Because of inheritance... They are ready to destroy my life... Sold me to a creep. And here I thought, they wanted..."

You breathe in and out.

You glance at your dirty hand.

"I need to clean myself up."

You turned away and left the living room.

_______

You frantically soaped your palms. Hot water were burning your hands, but you didn't care. A million thoughts fly in your mind and none of them were pleasant.

You were crying.

One week ago you got a message from Aunt Angela. She said, that she and Justin wanted to visit you the following week. You were happy to see someone from your family again.

But, with that family you don't need enemies.

You heard, how someone open the door. You catch Kouyou's reflection in a mirror.

Then you were embraced by her. Kouyou whispered.

"You can cry as much, as you want, Dear Flower. I will be there."

You sobbed, hiding your face in her chest.

"They were thinking about inheritance... They didn't care about me!"

Kouyou lightly pet your head.

"Don't worry, everything is going to be alright. We won't let them hurt you. I won't let them hurt you."

Kouyou cupped your face. You looked directly in her cherry-red-eyes. She kissed away two stray teardrops from your cheeks.

"I promise."

You hugged her again.

"It's just... I thought, that they are my family. That, they, at least, shouldn't be against me."

Kouyou kissed your temple.

"Not all families are supportive. But we will support you. Always."

You sighed.

"True... Can we stay like this for a moment? Then we will return to a living room?"

Kouyou nodded, placing her hand on your head.

____

When Kouyou and you return to the living room, others looked troubled. You were standing with your back turned to her while Kouyou hugged you from behind. You explained everyone about your aunt's messages. And about wanting to meet you.

Right in the middle of explanation, you got another message from her. You read it out loud.

"Hey, [Y/N]! Let's meet tomorrow and have dinner together! Your uncle and I will wait for you at the "Sakura" restaurant."

You raise an eyebrow. "Sakura" was a wanna be Japanese restaurant. Cheap, with bad food. Because of that, during Charity Fair, they almost had no clients.

Good place for a kidnapping. You rub your forehead. You are getting a headache.

Mori stand up. He came closer to you, stand near Kouyou and put his hands on your shoulders.

"Don't worry, My Darling Guiding Light, tommorow, you will be under protection of Port Mafia. And we will show them, what will happened to people, who cross you."

You looked at Mori with gratitude.

"Thank you, Ougai. So..." you looked at others, fixing your gaze on Port Mafia members. "Who want to meet my family tommorow?"

________

That night you spent in your room.

But you weren't alone.

Once again, you were in a middle of cuddle sandwich.

You were laying face to face with Kouyou. You ran your fingers through her hair, that she let down. Koyouu's fingers were massaging your temples. From time to time, she ran her fingertips up and down your face.

Mori was spooning you. He put his chin on the top of your head. Your legs were intertwined. His hands were wrapped around your midsection. From time to time, he gave you an affectionate squeeze.

And, once again, you felt safe.

[florencetypemaniacs]

I had no idea this was a Tumblr classic but I'll give it my best shot.

💙 ROSEMARY

Rosemary's eyes caught the mark right as you walked through the door, and she felt all the air leave her lungs. 

What did I suspect? MC is amazing; of course, they found someone. 

Rosemary bit her lip and turned away from the room. She walked out the door, the sound of her steps grounding her. 

She swallowed her disappointment and sadness. Rosemary felt her heart clench as her thoughts ran to someone touching you. feeling your warmth and how she longed for that to be her, but it was too late. She would just have to accept that. 

I shouldn't even be upset. We aren't together, even if I thought maybe—never mind all that. It was a stupid dream. MC deserves someone good and whole. Someone alive. Not broken and dead. 

Rosemary let out a shaky breath, trying to keep his voice out of her head. 

Who could truly ever love someone as useless as you? 

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Rosemary!" 

Your voice rang out in the room like a bell, and Rosemary froze before putting on a fake smile that she was used to wearing. 

"What can I do for you, dollface/angelface/handsome?" 

Your hand reached to your neck, rubbing it, and Rosemary spotted another hickey. 

Her heart clenched as she stared out the window that you were both looking through, wishing to the stairs for this painful feeling to go away. 

"How are you not covered in these things?" You asked, and Rosemary snapped her head towards to look to see you pointing a finger at your love bite. 

Rosemary stayed very still, keeping her composure; however, inside, she was having a mental battle. 

Is MC asking me why I'm not covered in love bites? 

Rosemary gripped the side of her dress; it was all so cruel. Were you gloating or just asking an innocent question? 

With pursued lips, Rosemary spoke. "I suppose I am not that lucky; a lady gets tired of bothersome affection." She did not mean for the words to come out with so much acid, but they did, and there was no taking it back now. 

You look a little befuddled. "What does being a lady have to do with bug bites?" 

Rosemary's mind comes to a stop at the mention of bug bites. "Excuse me?" 

You point your finger at your mark again. "What does having to be a lady have to do with bug bites?" 

Is it a bug bite? 

Rosemary felt her heart leap and reached towards you to... Hug you? Confess? Kiss you? 

She didn't have a chance to do any of that, as your aunt Zinnia called for you, making you turn away from her. 

"Coming!" You yelled down the stairs and then turned towards Rosemary. "I'll talk to you later, Rosemary!"

Rosemary was left fanning her face with her hand and thanking the stars. 

🩵 TAI

You were in his clinic, giving him a delivery, when he saw it. Tai would have been able to do his witty banter, but with his attention on your mark, he was quite lacking.

Is that a hickey? 

Tai blinked back out of his thoughts when you reached out for him, questioning if everything was alright. 

"Tai? Are you okay? You just kind of zoned out."

Tai snatched his arm back from your touch as if he were burned, earning him a concerned look from you. 

I'm so damn foolish. 

Tai knows it was illogical, but he felt anger build inside him, and even in that moment, he knew it wasn't directed at you but at himself for letting his infatuation for you get out of hand. 

Although he had to let that anger out, you were right there, parading your lover's mark right in front of him. 

"Oh, in a rush? Sorry that this is such a hassle for you; maybe it would be best for you to leave." 

Before you could even utter a sentence, he had already shut the door in your face, not listening to your shouts from the other side, and soon they seemed to disappear. 

I am a complete fool. 

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Tai avoided you like the plague, but even though you were miles away from him, he still couldn't get you out of his head, no matter what he tried. 

Tai grimaced as you walked into the door of his clinic, his eyes trying to scan you, when he noticed another love bite on your neck. 

"What do you want, Oleander?" Tai said in a dead tone, which you seemed not to notice as you touched your neck, seemingly distracted. 

Another hickey? Oh, I'm sure MC has a lot on their mind. 

"Uh, I don't know if you can even help me, but..." You began to feel a little embarrassed, and Tai just gave you an unblinking look, his face as blank as always. "Can you give me a prescription for some kind of itching medication? This bug bite is killing me." 

Tai doesn't blink; his eyes trained on the "hickey," and he narrowed his eyes. "Bug bite?" Tai crossed his arms, not ready to believe this excuse that you were making up. "You were bitten by a mosquito on your neck?" 

Completely missing Tai's skeptical tone, you nodded your head, leaning against the counter and absently scratching an itch. "I know, right? Our bugzapper broke, and the one Aunt Zinnia bought online isn't here yet." 

Now that Tai was getting a better look at it, it did look a lot like a bug bite. He uncrossed his arm and said it in a softer tone. "Peppermint. Mosquitos hate peppermint." 

You perked up. "Really? I think Aunt Zinnia has some peppermint oil! Thanks, doc!" You start to hurry out the door a little pep in your step. 

Tai just stood there processing what happened, and his chest filled up with relief.

💛 MARCEL

The moment Marcel saw the mark, he felt a pit in his stomach start to form, although a smile was still on his face, and you were none the wiser as you talked.

I'm jumping to conclusions. MC wouldn't: But the more he stared at the mark on your neck, the more the smile would start to slip, making you question it.

"Marcel, are you okay?"

Marcel's head snapped up, and the smile was back in place. "I'm just feeling a little under the weather."

Before you could say anything, Marcel was walking briskly out the door, his thoughts racing as he closed the door to a private area behind him, falling to the floor.

Stop. MC already has someone. No use getting upset over it; they are happy, so I should be happy for them. I could make myself happy for MC. 

Marcel bit his lip, got off the floor, and went over to the mirror, making himself smile as he said it in a cracked, fake, happy voice.

"Hey MC!"

Needs work, but I can pretend to be happy until I am.

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"Hey, Marcel!" You called from your bedroom. and Marcel cringed a little as he slowly made his way towards your bedroom, putting a smile on his face as he walked to the door.

Be happy. Be happy. Be happy.

''Yes, MC? Is there something I can do for you?"

Marcel asked, praising himself when his voice didn't come out in a desperate sob but rather in a charming tone.

You tried to hit one of the mosquitoes on the desk with your hand, and even though it was quite gross, the anger you felt for those little bastards was greater. 

"Can you go get me a fly swatter?

''Ah, do you have pesky bugs that need attending to?" Marcel asked, his eyes gleaming as he watched you try to kill another bug on your lap. The action looked more like an intrepid dance than killing a bug.

You gave him a look. A look only you could give him, and he cursed himself for those eyes, still making his knees weak.

MC is with someone. MC is with someone. Someone who isn't you.

"You have no idea! They made me a buffet last night." You pointed to your neck where the "hickey" was, and Marcel's eyebrows raised in confusion.

"Those are bug bites?" Marcel asked slowly, hope bubbling in his chest.

You gave him a weird look. "Uh, yeah, what did you think they were?"

Marcel started to laugh, the hope just spilling out of him in a gasp of breath that left you asking questions that Marcel couldn't answer at the moment.

I guess I was jumping to conclusions.

❤️ OWEN

Owen was so sure you were serious that it wasn't a game, but...maybe he just let the feeling clouded his judgment.

Owen tried to look anywhere but the new asseroery on your neck but it was hard as he bit his tongue. He just wanted to know why you changed your mind, if it was all a game, or maybe you just met someone better. It was a high possibility and with the mark on your neck.

Oh God, Agate was going to have a field day with this.

You looked at Owen across the table, In concern a teacup in your hand. "You alright Owen? You grip that tea cup any harder and it might break."

Just leave it alone. Just leave it alone.

"So ye found someone to keep your bed warm at night?" Owen asked, his tone usually softer.

You raised an eyebrow in confusion to ask him who or what he was referring to before he cut you off.

"I'm just guessing from that-" Owen said, pointing towards your "hickey."

Just leave it alone. They are probably happier. Hell, if the mark is any indication, they are fine, but....if I just had another chance to prove...

"I just want you to know there is someone else out there too.....if you would have them."

Owen's gaze remained fixed on yours, and he was aware that he wasn't being particularly passive, but that wasn't his style to begin with. But even he understood it was too perilous to give out a full confession, so he opted for the word "someone" rather than himself.

Please let me be that someone.

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"Owen?" 

"Yes?" Owen asked, his voice barely audible. 

Your eyes flashed with hesitation. "What are you talking about?"

Owen gulped through his dry mouth. "Listen, lass/duck/lad, all I'm saying is that I'm here for whatever you need as a brother, mate, or something more." 

Owen gave your hand a gentle squeeze, so you could pull away at any moment, but you just held on tighter. Owen looked down at your hands, and his breathing seemed to become more even. 

"....something more." You said the words slowly like they were foreign. Your heart beat in your chest and the prospect, you leaned over closed, and Owen held his breath. However, there was a question on the edge of your tongue that you couldn't ignore. "What brought this on? What do you mean about someone in my bed?" 

Owen ran a hand through his hair. "You don't have to lie to me. I saw your love bite." 

Your eyes widen, and your hand reaches instinctively toward your neck. "What?" You remembered the mosquito bite as a familiar itch. "Oh Owen, this isn't a hickey; it's a mosquito bite." 

Owen blinked in surprise; his eyes widened, and a pink tint rose to his cheeks as he looked closer. "Ah. I see that it is." He was so caught off guard that you felt the genuine relief come off him in waves. 

The redhead got up and leaned over you, cornering you like you were prey, but you weren't scared. On the contrary, you felt quite secure when he looked at you with sincere eyes. 

"So...can I be that someone?" 

💚 ZANE

Zane's eyes always seemed to roam your body from head to toe whenever you walked into a room. 

Lips. Legs. Torso. 

He always seemed to try and figure out if anything was different, but when your hand kept going to your neck, that was what his eyes went to in a flash. 

Then, his whole world came crumbling down. 

Something bubbled up inside him—a familiar feeling he knew all too well, boiling rage. He wanted to laugh hysterically, cry, and shout all at the same time. 

Because it was all so stupid. It really was. You weren't even important. but you were. Hell, you were the most important thing to him, and you weren't even his to begin with. 

Before you knew it, you were being pulled into the other room, the door slamming behind you, making you jump. "What the hell, Zane?" 

"Who?" 

You crossed your arms; Zane's back was to you, but there was a coldness in the room that you couldn't quite comprehend. 

"Zane, you better start making sense." 

Zane whirled around, and your eyes widened at Zane's expression of hurt and hunger combined. You had to take a step back. 

Shadows are wiped out of the corners of the room, and before you know it, you're pressed against the wall, the tentacles trailing your body, leaving you with a feeling of hot pleasure. 

A tentacle grabbed your chin, tilting it to the side surprisingly gently. "Who did that to you?" 

You struggled against the shadows. "Did what, Zane?!" You asked, and you knew he wouldn't hurt you. Not this, Zane. Not you, Zane. 

"Who did you let suck on your damn neck?" Zane looked straight into your eyes, and all you saw was raw sadness staring back at you. 

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You shook your head when the realization hit you. "Zane, this isn't a hickey; it's a mosquito bite." 

Zane stopped and looked into your eyes, narrowing his own, and he must have seen the truth behind your statement because the shadows relaxed around you. 

"A mosquito bite," Zane said each word carefully, and relief hit him like a ton of bricks. 

An urge hit Zane like an animal instinct to mark you with whatever he could, although he settled on his lips. 

You nodded. "I would never. I mean, that is to say that I-" Your words died in your mouth when the shadows wrapped around you in just the right way, and Zane's mouth was on your neck. 

"Zane?" Your voice came out hoarse, and Zane chuckled. 

"I need to mark you to make sure everyone knows you're mine." 

🧡 MARGARET

Margaret felt her heart break when she saw the mark, her hands in fist as she tried not to cry. 

She thought that you—well,  she guessed it didn't matter what she thought because you already had a lover. 

It's okay. It's okay. 

Margaret repeated In her head as you spoke, clearly concerned. 

"Margaret, is everything alright?" You asked, coming closer to put a hand on her shoulder to try and comfort her. 

"You have a mark." She said, her voice barely above a whisper as she pointed to your neck.

"Oh yeah." You said it in a sheepish tone. "It's a-" 

"I think I have some kind of ointment I can give you," Margaret said, turning away from you to go get the ointment her voice tighter than normal.

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Margaret waited; she waited for you to bring up this new lover. For at least Camila to spill something but nothing. 

Did you not trust her? Did you think she would get upset? Did you know about her crush on you?

It hurt like nothing before that you were already taken, but the more she thought about it, the more she just wished for your happiness. It was selfish not to trust her as a friend, and now that rooted self-doubt right into her heart. 

When you came in with another mark, she turned away. 

"Hey, Margaret, can I have some more of that ointment for this bug bite?" 

Margaret's whole world stopped as she slowly turned around to face you, her mouth finally working after what felt like a minute. 

"Your....what?" 

"My bug bite." You said, while absently scratching it, and Margaret couldn't help the smile that etched itself across her face. 

Hope filled her to the brim as she vibrated with happiness. Now, really looking at the "love bite," it did look like a bug bite. 

"I will get right on that!" Margaret said with a smile. 

[dreamwritesimagines]

Garden of Secrets [12] - Hydrangeas

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support my loves, it made my whole week, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Thanks so much to @theskytraveler​ for helping me with the chapter!

Summary: Planning a wedding can cause tension.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, mentions of sex.

Word Count: 5400

Series Masterlist

You didn’t even know preparing a wedding could be this troublesome, but for the last couple of days, you’d barely had any time to sit down. There were so many things to do, and for the most part you felt as if you were doing nothing but saying “Yes” to things you weren’t even paying attention to.

But this?

This you paid quite the attention to.

Your uncle had decided to buy you and Benedict a house as a wedding gift. You hadn’t gotten to see it before because it was being made ready but your aunt had assured you that it was to your liking, and to Benedict’s no doubt. Apparently Benedict had a house in the countryside already and he was planning on buying one here as well before the wedding but your uncle had stopped him, stating it would be a present from him for a new beginning.

The carriage stopped and the coachman opened the door for you and helped you out, Teddy, your aunt and your maid following you. After thanking him, you raised your head to look at the house in front of you, an exhale leaving your lips.

It was so beautiful that for a moment you could do nothing but stare at the impressive building, frozen in your spot. It was large, larger than most of the houses in London but knowing your uncle that shouldn’t have been surprising. The huge windows meant inside the house would be well lit all over and the gate opening to the stone road that led to the house looked like it was polished to perfection. A footman rushed to open the gate and your aunt linked her arm through yours while Teddy ran ahead.

“Teddy, not so fast!” you called out but he didn’t even stop.

“I want to see the house!”

“I’ll keep an eye on him my lady,” Paula said and rushed after him to the house while your aunt took an excited breath.

“You will especially like what I’m about to show you,” she said as she pulled you to the step inside the gate but instead of going inside the house, she led you to right past it.

“Auntie, where are we going?”

“You will see!”

“But the entrance is—” you started but stopped talking as soon as you both reached the backyard.

The huge extravagant garden lying in front of you was absolutely breathtaking. The flowerbeds were full of colorful flowers, no doubt kept in pristine condition by the previous owner’s gardener and you turned your gaze to the beautiful greenhouse by the far end of the garden, across from the fountain by the gazebo.

It looked like something out of a fairytale.

“We chose this one not only for the house but for the garden as well!” she said, turning to look at you better. “A garden of your own and a greenhouse! Do you like it?”

You could feel the burning behind your eyes as well as the slight pinch on the bridge of your nose, a sure sign of the tears. In truth, this was beyond everything you had dreamt or hoped for when you imagined your future, that was why it was nearly a torment to see such a beautiful vision and knowing you wouldn’t get to make it yours no matter how much you wanted to.

You couldn’t keep a garden and live in fear that Benedict could take it away from you whenever he saw it fit.

“It’s so beautiful,” you managed to say before you wrapped your arms around her and pulled her into a hug to hide your face. She patted your back gently, holding you tight before pulling back to cup your face.

“I hope your marriage will be filled with nothing but bliss,” she said. “And that you and your husband will be incredibly happy here.”

Your husband.

Right.

You blinked back the tears and smiled at her.

“I’m certain we will,” you lied and she let out a happy laugh.

“Wonderful!” she said and pulled you by the hand. “Let me show you the house!”

                                                  *

The house itself was as gorgeous as the outside. With its high ceilings, spacious hallways and well-lit rooms, it was as if someone wanted to make sure anyone who stepped inside would never feel smothered by the walls, instead would feel as free as one would outside. You could already hear Teddy running wild in the hallway and your aunt talking to Paula while you leaned sideways to the window frame, keeping your eyes on the garden.

It looked like a painting, almost.

The knock on the doorframe made you snap out of your thoughts and you looked over your shoulder.

“Benedict?”

“Good afternoon,” he said, his soft smile making your heart skip a beat. “I hope you do not mind, your aunt invited me.”

“Of course she did,” you said, that familiar tension making its way through your veins again but you managed to ignore it. “Have you had the chance to look around?”

He nodded his head. 

“I have,” he said. “Is it to your liking?”

You opened your mouth to say yes, then stopped yourself and shrugged your shoulders, crossing your arms. 

“To yours?”

“It is actually,” he said. “Did you see the garden yet?”

Your eyes flickered over his handsome face and you shrugged your shoulders again.

“I did,” you said. “Which side do you want by the way?”

He seemed confused at your question. “What?”

You motioned around. “The house,” you said. “Which side would you prefer? I think the east side has better light for your work, but it doesn’t matter to me really.”

A frown pulled at his brows. “We’re—we’re dividing the house?”

“Well not dividing,” you said. “At least not literally but I figured it would be easier for…us both.”

“Easier?” he asked but before you could come up with an answer, you heard Teddy’s footsteps coming closer.

“Y/N I saw a butterfly—” he stopped talking when he saw Benedict, his face pinching in a frown. He made his way to you, shy all of a sudden now that you weren’t surrounded by people like you had been back at dinner. You knew he would be distant with Benedict after learning you would be marrying him, and you squeezed at his shoulder in an assuring way while he half hid behind your skirts.

“Hello Teddy,” Benedict said, kneeling down to get to his level. “You saw a butterfly?”

Teddy nodded quietly, biting on his nail.

“What was it like?”

Teddy paused, then shrugged his shoulders in silence. Benedict looked around the room, then tilted his head.

“What do you think about the house?”

“’s nice.” Teddy mumbled inaudibly, still hesitant to answer and Benedict hummed.

“Have you picked your room yet?”

That managed to get a reaction from Teddy as he gasped, looking up at you. “My room?”

You stared at Benedict, then cleared your throat. “Teddy…”

“I get a room?!” he asked, excitement laced in his voice and he darted before you could even say anything. “Auntie! Auntie I’ll have a room here, did you know that?!”

You dragged the tip of your tongue over your lip and turned to Benedict. “You shouldn’t have said that.”

“Why? Surely he will need a room especially if he’s staying with—”

“He’s not staying with us,” you cut him off, making him frown.

“Why not?”

Because you didn’t want to risk it. You had grown up watching your mother and father and you had seen what happened numerous times when there was a fight. Teddy staying with your uncle and aunt was going to be better for him, at least you trusted them.

Not to mention it would be safer for him. If Benedict got angry and wanted to take it out on the nearest person like your father used to—

You couldn’t let that happen, not to Teddy.

“Mr. Bridgerton, welcome!” your aunt’s voice reached you both, making you turn to her and Benedict bowed his head.

“Lady Thorne.”

“Now that both of you are here, I can finally show you the bedchambers!”

You gawked at her. “Pardon?”

“Come come!” she said and you both followed her down the hallway until she turned a corner and opened a door.

“Here are your bedchambers,” she said with a smile while you stared at the huge four-poster bed. “And Y/N, the cojoined lady’s room we can turn into a close for you! Or a studio for Mr. Bridgerton.”

Oh.

Oh you were to—

Right. Of course you were expected to sleep together, or at least spend some nights in the same bed for the… nightly activities of marriage.

You could feel the fear crashing down on you but you managed to swallow the lump growing bigger in your throat, biting on your tongue to focus. If it were any other time you would’ve thought the room looked even lovelier than your current room, but now all it looked like was a threat of the days to come. Benedict’s gaze stopped on you while you clenched and unclenched your hand, twisting your wrist subtly.

“Or a nursery if you wish but the actual nursery is the room over there—”

“I’ll go and check the kitchen,” you cut her off, the panic roaring through your veins like wildfire as you walked past Benedict, and rushed downstairs.

It didn’t take you that long to find it, probably because the layout was a bit similar to your uncle’s house, at least when it came to floor plan. You entered the empty kitchen and went to the table to pull yourself a seat, then slumped down on it, your heart still beating in your ears.

It was going to be unpleasant yes, but it wasn’t as if you didn’t know it before. You knew what was to take place on your wedding night and throughout your marriage but at least Benedict already had mistresses so perhaps it wouldn’t take place very often.

You rubbed at your wrist, thoughts swirling in your mind but then raised your head when you heard Benedict entering the kitchen.

“May I?” he motioned at the chair across from you and scoffed a laugh.

“By all means. It’s your house.”

“Our house.”

You clicked your tongue. “My name isn’t on it,” you stated as he sat down.

“Listen—”

“I was thinking—” you both said at the same time and Benedict motioned at you.

“You first.”

You could feel your heart leaping to your throat in nervousness but you swallowed thickly, then ran your nail over the wooden table.

“I would like to have my own room,” you said after a beat and he nodded.

“Of course,” he said. “However you like.”

“And I want to go back to it or for you to go back to yours if it takes place in my room, after we’re done.”

He frowned slightly like he didn’t understand. “After we’re done?”

You nibbled on your lip, still dragging your nail over the wood.

“I know what’s expected of me,” you managed to say, your voice very clear and not shaky by some miracle. “At night. And I will comply with those expectations but I’d—”

“Y/N,” he stopped you and let out a breath of disbelief, shaking his head. “Nothing is expected of you."

You rolled your eyes and looked up at him. “We’re having a serious conversation here.”

“Do I look to be jesting?” he asked and you paused for a moment, then sat up straighter.

“Assuming you’re going to keep your mistresses after the wedding…”

“I don’t have any mistresses and I will not keep one,” he said. “Do you really think—”

“You can though,” you stated, making him pull back slightly. For some reason, a pang of pain spread through your chest but you paid no mind to it. “Whatever your prior arrangements were, as long as they’re discreet for the sake of appearances I will not mind. Besides I’d—”

You paused for a moment, nervousness getting the words stuck in your throat but you took a deep breath.

“With you and me, I’d like it if it wasn’t very…often. Aside from our duty of course.”

A silence fell upon the kitchen while he stared at you and you waited with bated breath, your face growing hotter every second. The panic was slowly climbing up your chest and before you knew it, you found yourself unnecessarily explaining the situation.

“Because I know it’s usually unpleasant for—you know, I’m aware that it’s just usually unpleasant for women even in the instances both sides try to make it so. No need for us to try when you already have a working arrangement with others.”

A look of realization dawned on his face, making you pull your brows together and he cleared his throat before clasping his hands over the table, the perfect picture of decorum. His hands were so close to yours that if you moved your fingers just a little you would be able to touch his hand and feel if they were as warm as you remembered. The sudden desire twitched your fingers but you curled them and dug your fingernails into your palm, forcing yourself to focus.

“I will not touch you unless you want me to,” he said, his calm voice snapping you out of your thoughts. “I swear on my honor, nothing is expected of you and you have no duty to fulfill.”

Your frown deepened as you tried to wrap your mind around it.

“And,” he said, a cocky smile curling his lips slightly. “If the time ever comes and you decide you do want me to touch you, I can assure you I will do a better job at it than some incompetent prick who convinced you it was supposed to be unpleasant for you.”

That simple promise wasn’t supposed to send tingles right between your legs and your eyes snapped up at his before confusion hit you, making you tilt your head.

“Wait, what?”

“Whoever that clumsy idiot was,” he said. “He clearly lied to you.”

You blinked a couple of times. “You think I’ve been with someone before?”

He shot you a knowing look. “You really don’t need to do that, I would never think any less of you. I’m guessing it was before you came to London? Was he a friend or something?”

You would have laughed if you weren’t so tense.

“He was nonexistent?” you said after a beat. “I’ve never been with anyone.”

That seemed to take him by surprise, and he pulled back a little, his mouth slightly agape.

“You’re…” he trailed off, still staring at you. “Oh.”

You frowned. “Why are you so surprised by that?”

“I’m not!” he said defensively and your jaw dropped.

“Yes you are!”

“No I just thought—” he motioned at you. “You make a lot of jokes about it.”

“So?”

“So I assumed,” he paused. “Well, Charlie doesn’t even know it exists.”

A scoff left your lips. “And whose fault is that?”

“Not mine, clearly!” he insisted. “I just assumed since you kept making innuendos and you obviously know what it is…”

“I also know a lot about cacti Benedict,” you whispered through your teeth, your voice heated. “It doesn’t make me a goddamn cactus!”

“It’s different—”

“Wait a second,” you cut him off and he ran a hand through his hair, making it fluffier.

“Hm?”

“You were going to marry me even if you thought I…” you tried to find the words but failed miserably. “Even if you thought I haven’t remained chaste?”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“I haven’t remained chaste,” he pointed out with a small grin. “In case it has escaped your notice.”

“It hasn’t escaped anyone’s notice,” you deadpanned, trying to hold back the sudden laughter bubbling in your chest and his grin widened.

“So why would it change anything?”

You could feel the warmth filling your chest and you nibbled on your lip, but before you could say anything, you heard footsteps coming closer and your aunt leaned on the doorframe.

“What is it with you two and this unstoppable insistence on being unchaperoned?” she asked as Benedict winked at you, making you roll your eyes while a small smile pulled at your lips. “Come on. We still have much to do.”

                                                   *

As it turned out, your aunt had another surprise for you. After you and Benedict got in the separate carriages to go to your separate ways, you realized it wasn’t the way to your home but your aunt refused to tell you where you were going.

It was only when the carriage stopped in front of a very familiar shop that you realized what it was and your heart dropped to your stomach.

“What on earth?”

“Surprise!” your aunt said and turned to Teddy. “My dear, Paula will take you to that pastry shop over there while you wait for us, alright?”

“Yes!” Teddy grinned while you turned to your aunt.

“Auntie…”

“We’re going to choose designs for your wedding gown, and who is better than Madame Delacroix to give you the perfect wedding gown?”

Anyone.

Anyone at all, you were half tempted to stop a random person on the street if it meant it wouldn’t be Madame Delacroix who would make your wedding gown. She and Benedict had been together up until your very sudden betrothal, and you weren’t even sure if that was still happening.

Even the thought of it made your throat burn for some reason.

It wasn’t within your plans to have your wedding gown made by your future husband’s former -and perhaps current- mistress, but it wasn’t as if you could tell your aunt about it.

“Lady Bridgerton is already there!”

Oh dear God.

You wondered if you could just trip on your way down from carriage to fake a sprained ankle just so that you could avoid this very moment, but before you could even do that, Paula and Teddy had already left the carriage to go to the pastry shop and your aunt pulled you out of the carriage and essentially pushed you into the store before you could protest.

“Y/N!” Lady Bridgerton said, standing up from the sofa to come and hug you. “Ah how beautiful you look!”

“Lady Bridgerton,” you managed to say. “What a lovely surprise. Good afternoon.”

She pulled back to smile at you, clasping your hands in hers.

“I hope you do not mind the intrusion, but your aunt says you were quite hesitant about your wedding gown,” she said. “So she and I will help you.”

“…Wonderful,” you said after a beat and Madame Delacroix came closer to you.

“Miss Y/N,” she said silkily, “Welcome. Congratulations on your engagement.”

You forced yourself to smile and gulped down. “Thank you, Madame Delacroix,” you said. “You’re most kind.”

“Caroline have you seen this silk?” Lady Bridgerton asked, pointing at a fabric before walking to the other side of the shop with your aunt following her, and you shifted your weight from one foot to other.

“If you could come with me,” Madame Delacroix said and led you to the counter where the sketchbook was open, full of different sketches of many wedding gowns. “We can make some arrangements if you’d like, these are just so that you can have some idea.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled, looking down at the sketches, silence falling upon you. You could still hear your aunt and Lady Bridgerton chatting happily and you absentmindedly turned a page, trailing your fingertips in a lazy manner until—

Until you saw it.

The gown itself looked like it was ethereal, with light tulle and white silk that almost looked liquid. Even though the design itself didn’t have any flowers, you could almost see how it would look if the skirts were embroidered with tiny blossoms along with small leaves over the bodice.

“That one?”

Madame Delacroix’s soft accent made you snap out of it and you scolded yourself in your head before you nodded, keeping your finger on it so that you wouldn’t miss it.

“Let me show you some options,” she said and walked behind the shop before she came out with three different shades of white silk, then laid them over the counter. You bit inside your cheek, guilt washing over you as you took one of the silks into your hand, then stole a look at her.

“I would like to offer you my apologies, Madame Delacroix.”

She raised her brows. “For what, ma chérie?”

“I think you know.”

A look of realization crossed her face but she managed to cover it quite fast.

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

“We have a common friend whom you know better than I do,” you said, then shook your head when you saw her expression. “I didn’t tell anyone. I would never, I assure you. I’m quite good with secrets.”

She cleared her throat. “Whatever you may have heard…”

“He didn’t tell me,” you added in a haste. “No one did, don’t worry. It doesn’t matter how I know, I just—”

She watched you in a silence and you cleared your throat, then motioned around.

“This wasn’t my idea,” you said. “I recognize this visit may come off as rubbing salt in the wound or tantalizing but I honestly wasn’t aware my aunt and his mother were planning on it until just now.”

She pursed her lips, but stayed quiet.

“I recognize how difficult it might be,” you said. “And if you wish, I can just tell them I want to hire someone else for this.”

She tilted her head. “And why would you do that for me?”

You shrugged your shoulders, then heaved a sigh.

“It wasn’t my intention to—” you paused for a moment, then let out a bitter chuckle. “Despite what Lady Whistledown might suggest, it was never my intention to steal him or get in the way of a certain…arrangement, whatever it may be. So I would like to offer my apologies if I accidentally did such a thing.”

She looked almost taken aback by your words but before she could say anything, Lady Bridgerton came closer.

“Did you find anything you liked, dearest?”

You paused for a second, then cleared your throat. “Actually Lady Bridgerton, I’d rather hire—”

“Miss Y/N liked a very beautiful design,” Madame Delacroix cut you off, making you turn to her. “And I’d love to make it for her.”

You blinked a couple of times, then offered her a smile.

“…Thank you,” you said and she smiled back before you turned to Lady Bridgerton. “And yes. I found a design I love.”

                                                   *

Thankfully most of the ton was convinced of your sudden love story with Benedict, especially after the last ball. Even Lady Whistledown had claimed Benedict’s love must have melted your ice on her last piece and it was obvious while people would be watching you very closely, they believed your ruse.

It was probably more about Benedict and less about you though. He had been so convincing that multiple ladies had come to talk to you and tell you how lucky you were throughout the night.

So you had a feeling this ball wasn’t going to be so different but that did nothing to soothe that nervousness in you.

Benedict was just writing his name on Charlotte’s dance card for a dance when you got to the ballroom with your aunt, and Lottie waved at you before she said something to Lady Bridgerton and Lady Danbury who were with them.

“I was beginning to wonder where you were,” Benedict said as you reached them and pressed a kiss on your gloved hand, making you smile at him while Lady Danbury and Lady Bridgerton exchanged glances, grinning. Your aunt pressed a hand over her chest, obviously emotional.

“Last minute gown issue,” you said as you grabbed a lemonade from the tray a footman was carrying. “Good evening Lady Danbury. Lady Bridgerton.”

“Good evening dear.”

“What was wrong with your gown?” Lottie asked and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Oh, long story.”

“Speaking of gowns...” Lady Bridgerton said and your aunt chuckled.

“I’m so excited about that, you’d think it’s my wedding.”

Charlotte looked from you to your aunt and Lady Danbury snapped her fingers.

“Oh I forgot you were doing that today!” she said. “Violet told me. When do we get to see it?”

“See what?” Charlotte asked and you cleared your throat.

“I would’ve told you beforehand if I knew.”

“Knew what?” Benedict asked, making Lady Bridgerton turn to him.

“Well I kept it a secret from you as well Benedict, because I knew you would tell her,” she said with a smile, “We surprised your betrothed today.”

“With what?”

You looked down at your drink, discomfort hitting you all of a sudden but Lady Bridgerton didn’t notice.

“We took Y/N to the modiste so that she could choose her wedding gown.”

It was apparently a bad idea for Benedict to have been sipping his drink when he heard that, because he choked on his drink and started coughing, making Charlotte slap his back, completely oblivious.

“Oh I would love to come to the next fitting Y/N!”

“You did what?” Benedict asked when he could get enough air and you raised your brows, then nodded your head.

“It surely was a surprise when the carriage stopped there,” you managed to say and Benedict swallowed thickly.

“I can imagine.”

“Perhaps you can join the next time—”

“That’s not a good idea auntie,” you cut her off and Charlotte held her breath.

“Of course, he is not allowed to see it before the wedding!” she said and turned to Benedict. “It’s bad luck, everyone knows.”

You and Benedict exchanged glances and Lady Danbury smiled.

“But we can, right?”

“…Of course,” you said as the music started and Charlotte turned her head.

“It’s our turn, come on,” she said and put her hand on his arm, then pulled him to the dance floor.

“It’ll be so beautiful,” your aunt told Lady Danbury, “She’s having some changes made on the original sketch, I cannot wait to see the final product.”

“Flowers and leaves,” Lady Bridgerton said and you reminded yourself to smile.

“Excuse me for a moment please,” you said and made your way out of the ballroom into the hallway just so that you could get away from the chaos there. You ran your hand over the white hydrangeas in the vase on the small table as you approached the nearest painting, and tilted your head, staring at the brush strokes.

Benedict’s art was better.

You rubbed at your forehead, a sigh leaving your lips as you willed yourself to focus on anything but the storm of thoughts in your head. Today had been extremely tiring for you, and you couldn’t help but wonder if Benedict still had feelings for Madame Delacroix or if he and she ever—

“Miss Y/N,” a voice interrupted your thoughts, making you turn your head but as soon as you saw who it was, you rolled your eyes, a small groan leaving your lips.

Exactly what the situation needed.

A conversation with Kitty Morris.

“What?” you asked tersely and she scoffed.

“Oh dear, what they say about you is true. You must’ve been raised by wolves.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Yes it’s true. What do you want?”

She took a look at the painting before she stepped closer. “I just wanted to congratulate you on your engagement.”

“Right,” you muttered. “Much appreciated.”

“Quite a hasty engagement though,” she said. “People have all sorts of ideas about the reason.”

“Like what?”

“My friends say that you trapped him,” she said with her nose up in the air. “With what, I do not dare assume.”

You arched a brow. “Do you not?”

“I can assume the reason, not the act,” she said. “Some of us were raised as ladies.”

You clicked your tongue, anger starting to burn at the pit of your stomach.

“And what is the reason, pray tell?”

“You knew he would never think anything serious with you unless you forced him,” she said. “I mean, he didn’t even think anything serious with Charlotte while leading her on for two years let alone someone like you.”

Your eyes sharpened like a cat’s but you forced yourself not to take the bait. Fighting over a man was absolutely beneath you, you weren’t going to do it just because she was trying to start a verbal fight.

You had to draw the line somewhere.

“Go deal with whatever is bothering you on your own, I’m not going to hold your hand through it,” you said as you took a step, but stopped dead in your tracks when you heard her speak again.

“He was never going to marry you,” she called out. “Unless you trapped him. You grew up poor for God’s sake, if it weren’t for your uncle you would be on the streets where you belong. Everyone knows that, they say even your parents didn’t want you. Why would someone like Benedict Bridgerton want to be married to you?”

…Very well.

Fighting over a man was beneath you but you could kneel down a little if she wanted to go there.

You threw your shoulders back and turned around.

“And you think if it weren’t for me, he was going to marry you?”

“Obviously,” she said. “That’s why you sabotaged it the moment he started taking interest in me. It was clear he was going to propose to me, everyone knows that.”

You hummed and pointed at the ballroom with your thumb. “Why don’t you go ahead and ask him then?”

She pulled back slightly. “What?”

“Go ask him if he wants to marry you instead of me,” you said. “He’s in the ballroom, the dance is probably over. He’s not busy.”

She looked at a loss for words and you tilted your head.

“No?” you asked. “Fine, I can go ask him if you’d like.”

You took a couple of steps towards the ballroom but she rushed to get in front of you.

“You will do no such thing!” she demanded and you let out a small laugh.

“Why not?” you asked. “If he wants to marry you, I will not stand in your way. We can break the engagement tonight in front of the whole ton.”

“If you think that’s acceptable—”

“I did ask him about you by the way,” you cut her off “Once. Whether he would propose to you after you and your friends kept whispering about it right behind me. Do you want to hear what he said?”

She glared at you. “You’re lying.”

“Benedict is too polite to break people’s delusions,” you stated. “I don’t have that issue. So I’m not lying, I’ll tell you what he said if you want to hear it.”

A silence fell upon you and you raised your brows.

“I suppose not,” you pointed out. “Alright then. I will go back to my betrothed now if you don’t mind so if you could step aside?”

She raised her chin defiantly, crossing her arms as if she dared you to and you smirked slightly.

“Kitty,” you said. “You will not like it if I make you. Step aside.”

She gritted her teeth and looked you up and down.

“It doesn’t surprise me the whole ton is shocked by your engagement, not just me,” she spat, fury apparent in her tone. “Your less than favorable background is apparent all over you, regardless of what expensive gown they put you in. No wonder we’re all surprised.”

You shrugged your shoulders.

“Maybe,” you said airily. “Whether you find it surprising or not doesn’t really change the outcome though.”

“The outcome?”

You smiled, then nodded in the direction of the ballroom.

“That one is mine,” you said, barely aware of the pride laced in your voice. “And he’s in love with me. Go find your own.”

She took a step back, her eyes gleaming with frustrated tears and you sipped your drink.

“And show some composure, will you?” you asked. “People will think you were raised by wolves.”

She paused for only a moment before a sob escaped from her and she rushed past you to go outside, leaving you there. You scoffed a laugh and shook your head.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered to yourself and downed your lemonade, then made your way back to the ballroom.

Chapter 13

[rabesbabe]

Blondie

Gwen Stacy x Fem!Spiderman

Summary: being Spiderman isn’t easy when you have to hide your identity from everyone you love. Especially, your girlfriend Gwen who just wants to spend time with you. But you’re too preoccupied with being the city’s savior.

A/N: Hey guyss! This is my first marvel fic which is shocking lmao But I hope you guys enjoy. No warnings on this fic but it is a lottt of fluff! (Not proofread as usual lol)

_______________________________________________

You stand in front of your locker struggling to open the lock. Your hands were full of folders and your skateboard that you weren’t even supposed to have in the halls.

Just as your folder was about to fall from your arms someone swoops in and grabs it for you. You look up to see your girlfriends teasing eyes.

“Looks like you might want this?” She says pointing to the sticker on the folder that says Ap Bio knowing you have it with her next period.

You smile at her laughing. “Why thank you.” You say sarcastically. You put the rest of the stuff you had in your locker after opening it.

“Are we still on for tonight?” Gwen says. Looking doubtful that you’ll say yes.

“Of course we are.” You smile at her and give her a quick peck.

Gwen had planned for you both to go to her favorite record store and get some coffee to study for a test you both had.

You had missed so many of your dates due to your duties as New York City’s protecter. You were running out of excuses. You loved Gwen to death but how could you tell her who you really were?

You look down at your phone that reads “7:30” in big letters. “shit, shit, shit.” You were supposed to be at Gwen’s house by now to pick her up. There was no way you had missed another date.

You got so caught up with trying to track down this guys who’s stole some lady’s purse, that it hadn’t even occurred to you that your girlfriend was waiting for you. She had to have hated you by now.

You dial her number on your phone. “Gwen?” You say as the line clicks. You hear sniffles and you could tell she was crying. “Where the hell have you been y/n.”

“I know Gwen. I’m sorry.” You grab your face and sigh. “I’ll make it up to you I promise.”

You swing over to a corner store to get Gwen her favorite candy, flowers, and a card. Not exactly enough for the amount of times you had bailed on her but a girl could try.

You swing back home and sneak in through your window. You gently set the stuff you bought down on your bed and start taking off your suit.

“Oh my fucking god!”

Your eyes go wide. You spin around and see Gwen staring at you as if she had just seen a ghost. Out of reflex you shoot webs at her mouth thinking she was gonna scream.

“I know what this looks like but you gotta understand babe. It’s not what you think.”

She try’s to say something but her eyebrow quirks up at the fact she can’t even speak. “Oh! Sorry, Sorry.”

You take the web off her mouth. “Why are you in my house Gwen?”

She looks at you as if you just asked the dumbest question ever. “Why are you spiderman y/n?!”

She looks you up and down and you’re suddenly very aware of the fact that you’re half naked in a bra with your suit hanging at your waist.

“Wait, I can explain Gwen just let me change?” You sigh motioning to the fact you’re not dressed.

“Oh.” says Gwen, visibly blushing.

“And then I guess ever since then i’ve been spider-‘man’.” You say ending your explanation on how you became spiderman.

“Does Ms. May even know?” She asks. You giggle at her words. “She’s told you to stop calling her that a million times,” She rolls her eyes at you. “Come on she’s my girlfriend’s aunt i’m not gonna be disrespectful! Now answer my question.”

You laugh again. “No she doesn’t know. I wanna tell her but…it’s kinda of hard to tell your aunt her niece is the ‘dude’ in spandex fighting crime each day.” You say avoiding her eyes.

“But I’m sorry for everything. For all the missed dates.” You get up and grab the flowers and other gifts you got for her.

She smiles and grabs the gifts you got her. “Why thank you.” She says leaning her forehead against yours. She presses her lips against yours and you smile into the kiss.

You back away from her. “Wait Gwen,” “Hm?”

“How’d you get in my house anyway?” You look at her slightly confused.

“I’ll only tell you if you promise you’ll let me come with you one day when you swing around the city.” She says smirking.

“Deal.” You smile at her.

You get up and grab her hand. “Cmon let’s go see what Aunt Mays cooking for dinner.

“Whatever you say spider-girl.” She giggles.

[juiles]

I will love you for the rest of your life. ❤️

Summary: You are Scarlett’s eldest daughter and after an argument with your sister, you get yelled at. You get saved by your favourite aunt before going home. Angst then lots of fluff at the end.

Type: angst then lots of fluff, hurt/comfort

Triggers: hospital, siblings fighting, broken bone, slight panic attack, breakdown.

Masterlist!

————————————————————————

POV: you (first person)

I was sat on my bed staring at the wall. Mum had just yelled at me for pushing Rose into the wall but that isn’t what happened. Rose had been hitting me and shoved me down the stairs and tripped and hit the wall. She burst out into tears screaming as if i had hurt her.

Mum came storming up the stairs and without even asking what happened starting yelling at me about being “too rough” with her because she’s my little sister and I’m bigger than her. I heard a ding and looked down at my phone. I had texted Lizzie right after asking her to come get me.

Lizzie-Loo❤️

Hey. Could you come get me? I need away from mum for a bit💀

Yeah of course bug ❤️

I’m 10 minutes away.

Meet me outside?

Thank youuuuuuu 🙏🏼🙏🏼

I quickly shoved a few essential clothing into my backpack along with my laptop, phone charger, school binder, and anything i may need for school tomorrow. I pushed my door open, wincing when i used my right hand forgetting i had hurt it when i had fallen.

I ducked down as I passed Rose’s room hearing mum sing to her, biting my lip to avoid a sob escaping, mum hadn’t sang to me in ages. I grabbed my sneakers and after pulling them on, grabbed my coat and slowly opened the door sneaking through before closing it again.

I stood outside for about 4 minutes before i saw Lizzie’s black range rover pull up. I stole a glance at Rose’s window and frowned when i saw mum doing a little dance. I threw the front seat door open and climbed in. I threw my bag on the floor gently and went to put my seatbelt on but stopped gasping in pain when i twisted my right wrist.

“What’s wrong baby?” Lizzie asked turning to face me. “What happened to your wrist? It’s swollen and bruised!”

“Rose pushed me down the stairs and i landed on it weirdly.” I muttered blinking back the tears. “It really hurts…”

“Oh baby… i’m taking you to the hospital. It may be broken.” She said turning to put the car in drive and head out my driveway. I saw mum glance out the window as we pulled out. “Why didn’t you tell your mum?”

“She-she umm… she yelled at me because Rose tripped and hit the wall and sent me to my room…” I said now letting the tears fall freely. “She didn’t even give me a chance to explain…”

Liz sighed and rubbed her thumb over my left hands knuckles. “I’ll talk to her bug. She’s not usually like this…”

I nodded and closed my eyes leaning back against the seat.

—————————————————————

Scarlett’s POV

I finally got Rose to settle down and taking a nap when i glanced out the window when i saw Lizzie’s car pull out of my driveway. Weird. Why was she here? I took a deep breath and walked towards my room, passing Y/N’s door on the way and froze when i realized what i had done earlier.

I screamed at her and sent her to her room without asking her side. She was at the bottom of the stairs when i had run up. Did Rose push her?!

I knocked gently. “Y/N/N?” I asked softly. I frowned when i got no response and tried the door realizing it was unlocked i pushed the door open. “Baby i’m so-“ I stopped mid sentence when i noticed she wasn’t in her room. “Y/N/N?!”

My heart started racing and i turned on my heel praying she had gone into my room. I pushed the door open and my heart dropped when she wasn’t curled up in my bed. I quickly grabbed my phone and pulled her contact up before calling her. It rang a few times before i was sent to her voicemail. I remembered Lizzie’s car earlier and scrolled down to her contact and pressed call.

“Hello?” She picked up after a few rings and I could feel my heart spike again.

“Hey Liz. Have you seen Y/N/N?!” My voice was shaky as I paced my room biting my nails.

“Yeah actually.” Lizzie sounded snappy and cold. “I’m currently sitting in the ER with her.” My heart sunk into my stomach as i heard those words.

“Wh-why?!” I couldn’t stop the panic attack i felt coming on as my brain whizzed around with reasons she may be there with my child.

“Because i think she broke her wrist and it needed to be checked out.” My heart shattered knowing that she HAD been pushed down the stairs and she had gotten hurt and all i did was yell at her and send her to her room. I understood why Lizzie sounded the way she did. “They’re calling her name. I have to go Scarlett. I’ll talk to you later.”

The line went dead and i fell to the floor as sobs took over my body. What kind of mother was i?! My baby was in pain and all i could do was snap at her because her sister was barely hurt. I chose Rose over Y/N. No wonder she ignored my call and left. No wonder why Lizzie was so snappy with me.

She’s always had a soft spot for my eldest and was rightfully angry from what happened. Y/N was only a kid but she was tough. She’s been with me through 3 divorces, dealt with being in the spotlight her whole life. She’s dealt with bullies at school but I’m the one who may have just broken her.

Y/N POV

I sat in the waiting room when Lizzie’s phone went off. I saw a picture of my mum flash on her screen before she answered and stood up putting one finger up to show me she’ll be right back. I heard her tell my mum where i was before my name got called and i froze. I’ve always hated the hospital.

Lizzie came back over to me and held her hand out. I took it and stood up clinging to her hand. We followed a nurse to a little room before she did a bunch of stuff with me. She then showed us to the X-Ray room and i had to sit with a lead apron on while they took the photos before being sent back to the little room with Lizzie. I sat on the bed and made grabby hands with my good hand towards Lizzie who chuckled and sat down beside me.

I instantly curled up into her grabbing at her shirt. “I know bug. I know you hate this. Not much longer okay? Afterwards we can get all the snacks and cuddle and watch movies at my place or in your room at home okay?”

I just nodded with a small sniffle glancing up at her. She ran her fingers through my hair and for the next 30 minutes that’s how we sat. My head snapped up as the door pushed open.

“Hello. You must be Y/N Johansson?” The doctor asked glancing at my paper before looking back at me. I nodded shyly. “And you are…?” She asked pointing to Lizzie. We all knew she knew who she was but she needed to know the relation to me.

“Oh sorry. I’m Lizzie. I’m a close family friend.” The doctor nodded. “I can call her parents if anything needs to be signed. Her mum can be here pretty fast.”

“No i think it’ll be alright. So it looks like you have a small fracture in your hand which means a cast will be placed on. It’s nothing major so no surgery required luckily.” The doctor then explained what my fracture was and what was to happen next. I felt myself shrink more into Lizzie when a nurse came in with a tray full of stuff.

We spent the next 15 minutes getting my cast on before i was sent out with a new black cast on my right hand and a sling. They had had options for a kids sling, princess, mickey mouse, plain pink, blue and purple and a Black Widow one. I blushed when pointing to the black widow one making Lizzie chuckle.

Lizzie then took me to a grocery store. We got loads of junk and settled back into the car. “decision time babe. My house or your room?” I took a few minutes to think.

I loved Lizzie’s house but i knew with the cast i would more comfortable in my own room. I didn’t really want to see mum but the idea of my bed was pulling me in so i sighed. “My room… but if we bump into mum can you talk…?”

“Of course buggy.” She said pushing some hair behind my ear. “Let’s go.”

The car ride to my house was filled with music and laughter as we blasted our favourite musicals and belted horribly along. The minute we pulled into my driveway i fell silent and tensed. “It’ll be alright. I’ll be right by your side yeah?”

I nodded and pushed the door open grabbing my bag from my feet and slinging it over my shoulder. Lizzie grabbed the bag full of snacks from the back and walked up to me slipping her hand into my good hand. I took a deep breath and pushed the front door open to be met by silence. We closed the door softly behind us and made our way up the stairs and towards my room. I heard Rose’s soft snores coming from her room and soft sobs coming from… mums room?

I glanced at Lizzie who nodded towards the door of mums room and took my bag off my back before making her way into my room. I knocked on the door softly and instantly the sobs stopped and i heard a few sniffles before a mumbled “come in.”

I pushed the door open and my heart plummeted when i saw mum curled up on the floor beside her bed, her face bright read, tear tracks staining her face. “Mum…?”

Her head whipped up and her eyes widened when she saw me standing at her door. “Y/N/N?!” She asked softly and i made my way over to her and sunk to the floor beside her. “Oh baby…” She whined looking at my wrist covered in the cast and the sling. “I am so sorry… i should have checked with you and asked what happened before snapping at you… i should have made sure you were okay baby… that’s not fair on you… i am so sorry baby… i understand if you’re mad at me… it should have been me taking you to the hospital… not your aunt…”

Mum looked so broken as more tears streamed down her face. I stared at her a few moments before launching myself into her arms. “No i’m sorry mama… i shouldn’t have been arguing with rose-“ Mum stopped me by pulling away and placing her hands on my shoulders making me face her.

“No. You stop that right now. Rose explained what happened. She had no right to hit you or push you down the stairs baby. You have nothing to apologize for. I do. I’m sorry i yelled at you my love. I should have gotten the whole story.” She said cupping my chin with one hand, her thumb stroking down my cheek gently. All i could do was nod as tears fell and fall back into her arms sobbing.

We sat there for at least 15 minutes before i was able to sit up still leaning into her. “Aunt Lizzie and i are going to do a junk food and movie night…” I muttered making mum nod sadly and press a kiss into my hair. “Maybe… maybe you could join us…?” I asked hesitantly sneaking a glance up at her.

Her once saddened face immediately lit up and she pulled me into her arms showering my face with kisses. “Yes! Yes yes yes yes yes!” She squealed then stopped. “Lizzie hates me…”

“No i don’t.” We both looked up to see Lizzie standing at the door leaning against the frame. “I heard silence so i came to make sure nobody killed each other.” She chuckled and sat on mums other side. “I could never hate you Scar. Be annoyed? Hell yeah. You’re my best friend. But not hate.”

Mums grin widened again and pulled Lizzie into our cuddle before i pulled away with a whimper cradling my arm after it got stuck. “Oh baby. Are you okay? Do you need some pain killers? Why don’t you two go get the snacks and bubs change into some comfy clothes while i grab the drinks and some meds. Liz borrow whatever to be comfy. You’re spending the night in here. Bigger bed.” Mum wiggled her eyebrows making us both giggle before we ran off to do what we were told.

I opened my closet door and dug through the clothes before i found my favourite hoodie and bike shorts and slipped them on, leaving my casted arm out of the sleeve. I made my way back to mums room to see Lizzie sitting on mums bed in one of her favourite hoodies to steal and some joggers. I plopped down beside her, leaving mum enough space on the other side and grabbed a bag of candy.

Mum came back in with a couple drinks for each of us, a bottle of pain meds and my favourite fuzzy blanket from downstairs. “Let’s start this girls night hmm?” She said sitting beside me. I wrapped us up with mums duvet then the blanket and snuggled up in between my two favourite people.

We spent the whole night watching movies, i even convinced them to watch Age of Ultron with me as it was my favourite Avengers movie. I fell asleep halfway through some rom-com lizzie had chosen, my head on mums chest, my casted arm resting gently on her stomach, Lizzie snuggled up behind me wrapping her body around mine as she fell asleep. I felt a kiss on my head and smiled softly in my sleep.

“I’ll love you for the rest of your life.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Once Upon a Time 9

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Andy Barber

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You pass the cafe with the fleeting mournful thought of a coffee. You don’t mind something warm to see you home but you won’t risk venturing inside. You’re determined to stick to a direct route but inconsistent route. You can’t afford to be predictable against someone quite the opposite.

You’re headed back to Aunt Jo’s. The thought of being alone is terrifying. The train comforts you as you find it crowded and cramped. Typically, you can’t stand the claustrophobic crush but today, it’s your shield.

You try not to think of him. It’s impossible. He lurks just over your shoulder, around every corner, and even in the back of your mind. You keep telling yourself that whatever he’s up to with Chelsea is the end of it but you just can’t believe that. It only makes you worry even more; not just for yourself but for her. She might not be the friendliest but he’s preying on her nonetheless.

You shudder and rub your hand together inside your mittens. You peer around the traincar again. The route piques your nostalgia. You used to come this way every day when you were still living in your aunt’s guest room. When you were still slogging your way through your post-secondary slump.

Your body goes on auto-pilot as the robotic voice proclaims your stop over the chatter. You get off and walk along the platform, climbing up to ground level. You pause at the top of the stairs, peeking up and down the street. You can’t do that, you can’t just sink back into what’s comfortable. You can’t let your guard down.

You gulp and tuck your chin down but keep your head back. You let the snow kiss your cheeks as you keep watch over your shoulder. It’s a long shot that he’d follow you on the train but you can’t be too safe. 

The more you think about the last few weeks, the more your ears burn with paranoia. He wasn’t subtle, you were just stupid. You put yourself in danger for your own denial. Of not wanting to deal with the what if.

You reach your aunt’s street and dip down around the park. There’s no trace of a stalker behind you but you take the redundant path in an attempt to shake your unseen shadow. He could be there. How many times had he been before and you didn’t notice?

You let yourself into your aunt’s house, the brass knocker bouncing loudly as you swing shut the door a little harsher than you mean to. You twist the long and blow out a shaky breath. It’s good to be there. 

You put your bag on the low bench beneath the mounted hooks. You kick your boots onto the mat and hang your coat above. You swipe up your purse and stop in the archway that looks into the front room. You back up and turn to stare at the leather boots beside your aunt’s bright red uggs.

The house is quiet. Eerily so. You don’t know how you didn’t notice earlier. Whenever you walk into your aunt’s, there’s something going on. The television, the radio, or her neighbours arguing over the backgammon board.

You tiptoe across the room. You don’t hear anything. You look into the kitchen and find the stove on, the scent of something cooking within roiling from the dark glass window. She must be here, the light’s are all on and there’s still chopping undone on the cutting board.

A sudden clang makes you jump. You hurry down the hall as your heart leaps into your throat. You turn down the basement stairs, following the bend down to the lower floor. You see your aunt’s spirally silver hair straggling to her plaid flannel shirt as he rests a hand on the furnace.

To your horror, she’s not alone. You could’ve predicted this twist yourself as if out of some twisted thriller. Andy is on one knee as he reaches behind the metal door that opens into the underbelly of the furnace. He leans back on his toe as he straightens his shoulders and shuts the door.

“That should fix the problem,” he grunts as he puts his hand on the painted brick and hauls himself to his feet, “if it doesn’t, I’ll pay for the professional.”

He chuckles as Aunt Jo shakes her head. You stand paralysed, your hand gripping the railing, as you gape at the scene. He claps your aunt’s shoulder and smirks, his eyes slowly skimming over to you.

“I’ll pay you back first,” Jo insists, “stay for dinner.”

“I can’t,” Andy turns back to her, “got a lot of work to do still. Maybe next time.”

“Next time,” she harrumphs, “I’ll hold you to that.”

She crosses her arms and swivels, smiling at you as her face brightens, “there she is. My niece,” she nods at you, “didn’t hear you come in, hon. This is the new neighbour.”

“New neighbour?” You mutter.

“Andy,” she supplies before she gives your name, “didn’t you see the sign on Bernice’s lawn? She’s moving closer to her grands.”

“Oh,” you blink, biting down to keep a scream from breaking through.

“Ah,” Andy winces and reaches into his jacket. He looks at his phone and sighs, “that’s the girlfriend, just in time,” his eyes flick up as his brows arch, “can’t keep her waiting.”

“Yeah, yeah, enough excuses,” your aunt chides, “I get it. Once you’re settled, you’re gonna try some of my famous lasagne.”

“Really, I’d love to,” he assures her, “I miss a home cooked meal.”

“Miss it? What about the girlfriend?” Your aunt asks.

“Eh, she’s not really the type,” he shrugs, “she wants to go out,” he wiggles his phone in his hand. “So, I’ll have to find somewhere with a table.”

“Alright, alright, let me see ya out,” he points him towards you, “Lucas likes to sneak out with visitors.”

You shift away from the stairs, speechless as you watch your aunt trail Andy. He glances over as he passes and his cheek dimples as he winks. Your lips part as you can only stand there dumbly.

First Chelsea, now your aunt, you understand exactly what he’s saying. He will be around whether you want him to be or not. These are not coincidences, these are very clear, very loud promises.

No, they are threats.

[flowerpotmage]

Tight Grip, Broken Dam (3)

<< Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter >>

You don’t question it anymore, when Miguel appears in your bed at night. He’s not there for sex, no, you’ve never even kissed—though you would be lying if you said you weren’t open to the idea of kissing him. He’s there for comfort. For rest. If only it could stay so simple.

Pair: Miguel O'Hara & GN!Reader

Notes: ambiguous relationship, slow burn, big sibling dynamic with gwen stacy

Word Count: 3,106

Read this chapter on Ao3 here. If you like my work, please consider leaving kudos there as well! You do not need an account to do so.

A/n: For the one full Spanish sentence I used spanishdict upon recommendation from more fluent speakers, as my own Spanish barely qualifies as basic (but I am actively studying! hooray). If you are interested in being a language beta/translator, let me know!

“I miss Miles sometimes,” Gwen admits, pushing around a few stray beans on her dish.

You look at her, softening in understanding. “Peter talks about him sometimes. He sounds like a good kid.”

Gwen sighs. “Yeah.”

“Hey,” you say after a moment, leaning across the table a bit. “I don’t blame you. If I had a friend like that, after what you’ve been through? I’d miss him too.” You shrug nonchalantly as images of you holding Miguel, of Miguel holding you, zip through your mind.

She lifts her eyes, looking into yours. “Yeah?”

You nod. “I think they’re too hard on you about it. It’s not like friendship falls into the laps of people like us.”

“Yeah,” she lets out a small puff of air that would barely even qualify as a chuckle if it weren’t for the lopsided, somewhat forced smile on her face.

You let the silence linger, and then; “That’s a lot of half-hearted ‘Yeahs,’ kid. You wanna go get a treat and web up some idiots?”

Gwen laughs. Success.

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

And so you do. The two of you suit up and leave for the afternoon to do your spidery duties, swinging and helping and stopping people where needed. You make good on your promise to get treats when the sun begins to set, the two of you walking into a charming ice-cream parlor in full Spider-Person get-up and leaving with milkshakes (“Your world uses printed ceramic for takeout containers?” “Yeah? What do you use?” “We mostly use plastic.” “Dude. That’s so bad for the environment.”) and fresh stamp cards.

You find a place to perch and drink them, somewhere up high where you can take your masks off and relax. Your legs dangle over the ledge and the city is spread out before you, the glass windows of the buildings glittering under the low angle of the sun like a mess of craft store glitter someone tried, and failed, to clean up.

“How do you do it?” Gwen asks, lifting the soft blanket of silence.

You finish your sip, turning to look at her. “Do what?”

“The two lives thing,” she says, looking down at the ceramic takeout cup she holds in her lap.

You look out over the city, blowing air through your lips. “Honestly? I was never great at multitasking.” You pause, watching a crow soar by. “I probably ruined a lot of relationships by prioritizing being the Spider.” She’s lifted her gaze now, staring at you with big round eyes. “And…” you shrug. “I think some things that happened, some choices I made, cost me some people in my life. And… not just socially.”

“Your aunt,” Gwen says softly.

You nod slowly. “I think if she had known, if I hadn’t been so afraid to tell her… I think there’s a chance things could have gone differently.”

Gwen looks at you for a long, long moment.

“But,” you say, voice lighter. “There’s no changing the past. We just gotta do our best with what we have in the present.” You nudge her shoulder. “Even if there’s some things we can’t change, we can still make the most of the rest. Y’know?”

She gives you a small, sad smile, before turning to look at the city. “Yeah. That’s probably a good way of looking at it.”

You swing your legs in the open air over the building’s edge, thumping softly against the brick in slow rhythm as you return to sucking down your shake. You put the cup back down, only dregs left, and look at her again.

She sighs, looking at you once more. “Stop that.”

“Wh-!” You do an exaggerated double take, throwing your hands in the air. “Stop what? I’m not doing anything!”

“The whole ‘sad, sympathetic older-sibling’ look you’re giving me,” she kicks her dangling foot towards your swinging ones, and the two of you get into a mini foot fight that dissolves into easy laughter.

“Okay, okay, jeez,” you raise your hands again, this time in surrender. “Teens, man, so touchy about normal human emotions and bonding,” you push her shoulder and stand, pulling on your mask. “C’mon then. Finish up your shake and we’ll go web up some more doofuses.” With that you web your empty drink into one hand, and with the other you shoot a web to swing off back into the depths of the city.

Gwen shakes her head with a little smile, takes one last sip, and follows on her own rope of web.

“Ready to go? Got all your stuff?”

“Yup!” Gwen replies, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.

You lift your wrist, tapping the golden-yellow screen, and your living room turns to molten gold as the portal opens up.

“Alright, get through quick. There’s no way this is good for the houseplants,” you usher Gwen past you into the portal, glancing around the room as she steps through, and then follow close behind.

The portal spits you out at the entrance to the lobby where numerous other Spider-People mingle and wave, greeting you as you make your way through, a chorus of hellos followed by Gwen’s name and your own.

“Spider-Teacher’s in today, yeah?” You ask one particularly young Peter Parker as the two of you cross paths.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” he nods rapidly. “I just left his office.” He throws a thumb over his shoulder.

“Great. Good to see ya,” you wave as you pass and continue further into HQ. When you and Gwen come to a crossroads, you stop. “I’ll leave you to it,” you say. “I'm gonna see if Peter’s around with Mayday.”

“He’s probably with Miguel,” Gwen says, ever so slightly emphasizing his name and dragging out the L.

“Uh-huh,” you say, pretending not to notice her pointed look and teasing smirk. “Maybe.”

Gwen gives a little wave and then she’s off, swinging through the walkway beams towards where Spider-Teacher’s office is.

You move to the side, out of the way of foot-traffic to stand on a wall, and call Peter B. on your watch.

His head and shoulders appear, floating above the screen.

“Garden Spider!” His enthusiastic voice greets you, and you chuckle at the nickname. “How are you? I sure hope this is a social call or I’ll be suuuper bummed out.”

His smile is contagious, so you laugh. “Yeah, yeah it's a social call. Are you at HQ? I have some time to kill and figured I could say hi to you and the baby.”

“Absolutely! You know, I was just showing Miguel some pictures, she had her first apricot last week, and–” Peter’s cut off by something, and he glances over his shoulder. “You’re doing fine, just a sec.” He looks back to you and lowers his voice. “I’m in Miguel’s lab, you wanna come by? He’s a little cranky today, though, so you might wanna bring a peace offering from the caf.”

“Sure, I can do that.”

“Great! See ya soon.”

“See ya.”

The holo call ends and you swing off to the cafeteria, figuring you might as well get lunch for all three of you, and maybe a snack for Gwen too for when she's done. So you order her a burrito, Miguel the usual empanadas and–

Your eye catches on a new menu item.

“No fucking way.”

“Yes way,” a random Spider-Man next to you in line replies, seeing what you’re looking at. “And they’re actually pretty good.”

You grin, turning to the cashier. “Two of the special, please.”

Peter greets you by name and wide open arms when you reach the lab. You return it with one arm, your other holding the food you’ve brought from the cafeteria.

“Hey Peter,” you pat his back companionably. “I didn't know if you were hungry or not so I brought some food for you too, just in case.”

“Excellent,” he releases you and rubs his hands together in a show of exaggerated excitement. When he glances over his shoulder into the main lab behind him like an unplugged bouncy castle.

“That bad, huh?”

“He’s been overworking the last few days. Probably not getting enough sleep again, too,” he says quietly as the two of you begin to walk down the hall.

Guilt wraps its hands around your ribs, pulling them tight to squeeze around your lungs.

“Oh,” you manage to say. “Well, maybe we can get him to take a break for long enough to eat with us.”

Peter pats your shoulder, and then the hallway gives way to Miguel’s lab. You’ve been here enough times in a professional capacity that you should be used to the dim light, and your eyes are at least, but it still strikes you as rather Draculaic.

You’re sure if you mentioned that, he’d go on another one of his ‘I don’t understand why everyone continues to compare me to a vampire, they all know the fangs are a spider mutation and I don’t drink blood-’ rants.

The first thing you note is that his working platform is already lowered, his back to the hallway as he works, a gloved hand moving through the air across the yellow holo screens. The second thing you notice is the sleeping, redheaded, chubby baby cradled in his arm and drooling on his suit.

Something new rattles against the inside of your ribcage, elbowing the guilt aside.

“Miguel!” Peter calls. “Garden Spider brought lunch, take a break and eat with us!”

Miguel turns, his eyes land on Peter and then immediately flick to you.

“You are overdue for lunch,” Lyla says by his shoulder.

“Hey,” you smile and lift the bag of food. “I brought you two of those empanadas that Jess always gives you grief about.”

His eyes flick to the bag, then back to your face. The ghost of a frown tugs the corners of his mouth down. “They’re good empanadas.”

“You don't gotta defend ‘em to us man,” Peter says. “Now are you gonna get down from there and eat with us, or what?”

Miguel jumps down from the platform, using his free hand to keep May secure against his chest. She sleeps through the drop, something you’d find surprising with any other kid, but with what she and Peter get up to…

As Miguel walks to Peter to hand May back to him, you move to perch on one of the clear level surfaces and set the food down, taking the containers out from the to-go bag. Peter and Miguel join you after May is securely back in the baby carrier perpetually strapped to her father’s chest.

“Empanadas for you,” you pass Miguel the first takeout box, offering a small smile. He accepts, pausing minutely when your eyes meet, before looking away and taking one of his gloves off with his teeth. “A burger for Peter,” you say when you manage to pull your eyes away, and hand him the next box. “Aaand one for me.”

“Oh, I can’t wait. You know I love burgers. You know, when I first met—Woah. Oh my god,” he bursts into laughter. “What is this?”

“What is what?” Miguel asks dryly, opening his food with his now ungloved hand.

“Dude, they made you into a burger!” Peter places a hand on Miguel’s shoulder, holding out his open food container of burger and fries.

Miguel turns his head to look. He wrinkles his nose, eyes snapping to Peter who doesn’t even flinch. “What the hell is that?”

“It’s the Spidey Special,” you say with as best of a straight face as you can muster, opening your own box.

Miguel looks at you, eyes flicking down to your own open container and back to your face before he looks up into the air exasperatedly. “Dios mío, me convirtieron en una hamburguesa… You’re killing me here.”

“I take it you had no idea?” A bit of your smile escapes your efforts to contain it.

Miguel rolls his head to look at you. “Do you really think I would have allowed it if I did?”

You smile fully. “Fair enough.” You look towards Peter, who’s already started to eat, and ask; “How is it?”

“‘S d’lish’ss.”

“Wonderful.” Miguel remarks, voice dripping with sarcasm. He takes a bite of his empanada.

“C’mon,” Peter says, holding the burger out towards Miguel. “Try yourself! You taste great.”

You nearly choke on your first bite of your own burger, Miguel turning his head to look at you with a slightly furrowed brow. You wave him off. “”M fine, ‘m fine,” you say, patting your chest.”

“C’mon,” Peter says again, waving the burger towards Miguel again, who can barely repress his wrinkled nose.

Knowing Peter won’t give up, you interrupt.

“You can always have a bite of mine if you don’t want Peter’s half-eaten mess,” you say, nerves suddenly dancing in your chest when Miguel looks you directly in the eye.

“Oy!” Peter says.

Miguel looks at the box you offer to him, your burger sitting neatly inside with only a single bite taken out. His eyes sweep back up to yours, and he sets his takeout box aside. When he accepts your food his fingers brush over your knuckles with all the gentleness and warmth of a sleepy cat’s tail.

The gaze is finally broken when he turns forward to take the burger out of the box, and something high in your chest jumps and heats like a firework smoke-bomb on a chilly summer night as his mouth closes over where your own single bite had been. His eyes return to yours, flicking down and back up so quickly that if you didn’t have your radioactive spider induced super-senses you’d think you were mistaken.

“‘S fine,” he says, swallows, and places the burger back into the box. He passes it back to you, lowering his gaze.

Peter scoffs and mumbles: “Uh-huh. No taste.”

Miguel eats, occasionally watching while you and Peter catch up. You show him pictures of your largest plant’s newest leaf and he shows you pictures of May, who wakes up part way through the meal and climbs into your arms.

“Hi sweet l’il Mayday,” you coo, bouncing her in your arms, sending her into a fit of giggles while Peter takes pictures.

“I should get back to work,” Miguel says, abruptly standing from his seat.

You, Peter, and even May both stop and look at him.

“Oh, um–”

“Thank you for the meal.” Miguel leaps back up to his platform.

Your stomach sinks.

“I… should probably get Mayday home,” Peter says, making meaningful eye contact with you and gently taking a once again giggling May from your arms and sliding her into the carrier. He nods his head towards Miguel, widening his eyes pointedly at you. “I’ll see ya later boss!”

Miguel doesn't reply as his platform starts to move back upwards, so Peter slips out, leaving the two of you alone.

“Miguel?” You ask from your seat by the empty food boxes.

He doesn't reply, the acknowledging tilt of his head is the only indication he’s heard you.

You pick under your nails and glance around the room before standing to brush off any crumbs that might have landed on your suit. You take a breath to beat back the hands once again grabbing and squeezing your ribs, and shoot a web that swings you up to his platform. His shoulders tense at the sounds of your feet landing on the metal.

“Hey,” you say softly. “Are you-?” you reach out a hand to touch his back, the muscles that cover his shoulder blade, too short to reach his shoulder-proper without encroaching much too close into his space.

Your watch beeps, Gwen’s holo appears out of the screen, and you pull your hand back before it reaches home.

“Shit,” you mumble, then at a normal volume; “Hey Gwen!”

“Hey,” she smiles. “I just finished up with teacher Spidey, where are you?”

“Oh, I just finished lunch with Peter and Miguel–”

Even in miniature holo form you can see the suppressed smirk and raised eyebrows.

“Cool, cool,” she says with pretended nonchalance. “Do you want to just meet me back at your place?”

“I, uh–” you glance at Miguel’s tense, slumped shoulders. “Yeah. Yeah I’ll see you in just a bit.”

“No rush!” She says with a cheeky grin.

You open your mouth to reply, but her holo is already gone.

“...Cheeky.”

Your eyes snap to Miguel, who's quirking an eyebrow over his shoulder at you. Your face warms. He turns back to his screens, and you cross your arms, wrapping them around your middle in an approximation of a hug. You rock back and forth a few times on the balls of your feet. “Sooo… Peter said you've been working a lot.”

Miguel’s hand pauses in its path through the air from one screen to the next before it continues. “I always work a lot. It's kind of my whole thing.”

You sigh through your nose. “Yeah.”

Silence sits like a fat cat uncomfortably kneading on one's kidneys until he speaks again.

“How is your work going? Your day job, I mean. At the paper.”

You blink. “Oh, uh it's fine. I'm ahead of schedule so I'm taking a day or two between stories.”

He nods. “Good. That’s uh, good.”

Silence, again.

“Do you… Do you want some company while you work?”

Miguel turns to look at you, something soft and vulnerable in his eyes. This Miguel you recognize all too well. So you offer a small smile, tilting your head to the side.

“Yeah. Alright.”

You perk up. “Can I help at all, then?”

He quirks an eyebrow, the corner of his eyes crinkling with his slight smile. “Leave it to me and Lyla for now.”

You chuckle slightly, leaning against one of the consoles carefully so as to not press any buttons. “Yeah… Probably better if I don’t.”

He frowns. “Don’t do that.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Do what?”

He gestures his hand vaguely, crossing his arms in a reflection of your own. “Say that all… self deprecatingly.”

“Oh, I didn’t–”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, okay,” you lift your hands in surrender, laughing lightly. “Point taken.”

“Good,” he smiles, turning back to his own console. “Lyla.”

“Hiii,” the virtual personal assistant pops into existence in the space by his right shoulder. “And hiiii to you too!” She says in a singsong voice, wiggling her fingers at you in greeting.

“Hi Lyla,” you give a little smile and wave back, and then settle in to observe while Miguel works.

This time the silence sits like it usually does with you two: gently, like a warm blanket.

<< Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter >>

[newtonsheffield]

Could we see Rugby Player Anthony and Pop Star Kate’s first date? Pretty please????

Anonymous asked: Loved the one shot. For science, can we see their first date?

Okay, let’s do it

“You’d tell me if you thought this was a bad idea right?”

Edwina sighed, “If I didn’t think this was a good idea, I wouldn’t have given him your phone number.”

“But like… I came down to London for this, and I don’t know where we’re going and what if he doesn’t actually like me?” Kate sighed, staring out the window, “What if he’s just… doing this for publicity or…?”

“Maybe, but there’s a reason you wanted to go out with him right? You must have seen something.”

Kate swallowed, remembering the earnestness in his eyes when he’d told her the story about his father, when he’d spoken about his little sister, “Yeah he was… kind of very sweet actually.”

“Okay, so, go out with him. If you don’t like him, don’t see him again.”

A knock sounded at the door and she heard Newton’s paws scrabbling in the hardwood. “I have to go, he’s here.”

“Have fun!”

Something nervous fluttered in her stomach as she made her way towards the door, Anthony’s outline visible through the glass. She took a deep breath before she opened it, and there he was.

He was wearing a soft sweater and his hair was parted a little less severely, still back from his forehead and a smile lit his face when he saw her, a bouquet of flowers held in his hands. “Hey.”

“Hi,” She nodded, her heart still fluttering in her chest. “Look at that, your smile’s just as cute out of the tux.”

Anthony flushed, ducking his head, “You’re so beautiful. I got you these.”

She took the flowers from him and her fingertips brushed his and she felt something. “Thanks, they’re beautiful.”

Anthony cleared his throat, “And this must be Newton.” He bent and scratched Newton’s ear who was wagging his tail, happy to have met a new friend.

“This is Newton, he’s ready to come out with us.”

Anthony grinned, “Great, should we go?” He held out his hand and Kate took it, snatching up Newton’s leash.

“Yeah let’s go.”

“So…” Kate said as she sat in the passenger seat of his Range Rover, Newton in the backseat. “Where exactly are we going?”

Anthony shrugged, “You’ll see.”

“You’re very mysterious.”

“A man of many surprises , I agree.” Anthony grinned, “You should see me in my kit shorts.”

“Because…” Kate trailed off, “Your legs are very surprising?”

“No, I’m just… really hot in shorts.”

Kate laughed, and she realised how much she liked it, how easy it was to laugh with him, even when she knew nothing about him, “I… might have googled you: And I agree.”

The car rolled to a stop and Anthony smiled, clapping his hands, “We’re here!”

Kate stared at the fence in a concrete wall. “Where’s here?”

Anthony sighed, “Okay, so I know you kind if spend your whole life on display, I do too but I’ve literally never seen people react the way they do when they see you, that’s insane. So I thought let’s go somewhere where we don’t have to worry about being seen.”

He took out a key from his pocket and opened the boot while Kate helped Newton down. “And… what are we…? Doing?”

Anthony reappeared with a wicker basket and a picnic blanket. “We’re having a picnic. My aunt lives in one of these houses, they have a private garden and I… sweet talked her into giving me the key for today with my very romantic notion.”

Kate’s heart hammered in her chest and that lump in her throat was back as she stared at him, Newton straining for the Frisbee Anthony had in his hand.

Anthony’s face fell, “Sorry, is this…? Is this stupid? Do you want to just go to dinner instead?” He was panicking, Kate could tell, “I… my brother’s a chef, he could get us a table at his restaurant for lunch. I’m sorry, this was-”

Kate stepped forward and she let her hand wrap around the front of his sweater, tugging him forward until their lips met. It was chaste, maybe the most chaste kiss she’d ever shared with anyone but she felt it. From the flutter in her stomach right down to her toes.

Anthony looked a little dazed when she pulled back, his lips still puckered as he swayed, “I think you’re supposed to wait until after the date to do that.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah, I loiter on your porch and try not to make it obvious that I’ve wanted to kiss you from the moment we met.”

Kate clicked her tongue, “Sorry I ruined the moment.”

“We can do it again then.” Anthony bent handing the frisbee out to Newton. “Now, let’s go have this date.”

She knew he’d been joking, about her falling in love with him on their first date. She knew that. But it sure felt like falling in love sat on a picnic blanket in a private garden with Newton sprinting after a frisbee and his arm around her waist. And when she sat down at the piano that night the words came to her so easily.

With the sun in your hair and the dreams of a boy in your eyes

I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt so free

Sat on a picnic blanket with you, your hand holding mine

Anthony

Anthony is the first single off the album she releases the next year, it’s the only song she’s ever confirmed is written about anyone specifically and it’s Anthony’s favourite song.

[selfproclaimedunicorn]

Write me a fic: Per our convo yesterday. I must ask for Regency!Griffith and his meltdown over falling in love in the most reforming your local Rake type way 🧍‍♂️🫡

this 100000000% got away from me & it is now only tangentially what you asked for. I mean, what you asked for is in there, but I couldn't decide which idea I liked more so I had to string them together & now it's a 4.6k word monstrosity.

Griffith paced, mind addled so that he coursed with the nervous energy that apparently plagued most of the men from his mother’s side of the family. It was as unfair as his current situation. “If you keep that up, you’ll wear a rut into the floor.” Aegon mused as he lifted his glass of brandy, examining the amber liquid in the light streaming through the windows of Thorn Hall’s parlor. He’d made himself quite comfortable, sprawled out on one of the sofas to the point he’d made Griffith’s discarded coat slide off the arm and onto the floor. He stopped and stared at his cousin, gray eyes wide with indignation and the wild concern that so preoccupied him. Aegon giggled over the rim of his snifter before downing more than was even half appropriate for a single sip. Griffith clenched his fists, every muscle in his hands flexing. “Would it kill you to be serious for five minutes?!” He snapped. Annoyance with his best friend could at least be identified and be used as an easy target to let out the building steam of whatever issue had his stomach in knots.

“You’re well and truly in a hobble, aren’t you?” Aegon sat up properly now, “Tell me what the trouble is.”

“Mya Redfort is the trouble. At this point in seduction, I would have at least gotten my cock sucked, and yet she is resisting every attempt at anything further than flirtation–it isn’t like I have not charmed her, but I am getting nothing from it!”

Aegon set his snifter on a low table near the sofa and leaned forward, a contemplative look on his face as he rested his chin in his hand, a finger tapping at his cheek. He’d only been married for a year, a decision reached in the immediate aftermath of their friend-and-cousin’s marriage to his sister, and his own previously similar behavior and thought patterns still rang fresh in his mind. Griffith began pacing again, running a hand through his dark brown curls as he tried to puzzle out his problems with and about Mya Redfort.

“I feel sick. Why is nothing working? You will tell me plainly if I have lost my edge, won’t you?”

“You? Griff, you could never lose your edge! What you need to do, is you just need to shift focus. Mya isn’t receptive, so there is no reason to keep going back. Why not set your sights on that Linderly girl with the–”

Griffith stopped his pacing immediately, his stare hard when he looked at his friend again. “How dare you.”

It was silent in the room after that, Aegon blinking slowly as Griffith felt his stomach drop. Realization set in far too late, and he hated it. Or, no–vexed as he was, he could not hate anything that had to do with Mya.

“One Miss Redfort has tamed her local rake it would seem.” Aegon pressed his lips together to try and stifle it, but all he managed was making his grin look ridiculous and tight.

He pointed at his friend, eyes blown wide once more. “Egg–”

“Welcome to the brotherhood! Interesting one to be a part of, quite cozy though. Provides for a very reliable–”

“I am not going to make a fool of myself over Mya like you did with Abrogail.”

“I did not make a fool of myself!” He stood up, squaring his shoulders to try and make himself look more imposing. It did not do a terribly effective job when he was trying to stand toe to toe with Griffith. Aegon was a good five inches shorter and cut a far less dramatically proportioned figure.

“You could not eat, you could not sleep. You eloped with her weeks after Stannis married your sister because you knew whatever Aunt Alicent was trying to arrange to curb your appetites would not make you as happy as they looked. I sat in this very parlor and watched you carry on in calf-love like some kind of barely grown boy-man who'd never known a woman in his life!”

It was silent in the parlor again as all the bluster slowly left Aegon. He sucked his teeth, hands coming to his hips as he looked up at the ceiling.

“I did carry on, didn't I?”

“Yes.”

He paused again, his gaze leveling with Griffith’s once more. Aegon worked his jaw, just as contemplative as before, and then his lilac eyes lit up. Something had struck him, and all Griffith could do was hope that it was brilliant.

“I do not know how much longer I can hold out.” Mya moaned as she slid further down into the chair beside Rhea’s dressing table, her dress riding up to show her ankles and the pink, embroidered slippers she wore.

“It is taking so much longer to get Griffith to fall for you than it feels like it should be.” Abby mused, her elbow propping on her crossed arm so she could put her cheek in her hand. She furrowed her brows, her small mouth pursing into a thoughtful pout.

“My brother is not so easy to wrap around one's finger as Aegon was,” Adrienne rebutted, her tone harsh and clipped, “he is as pig-headed as our mother.”

“I’d be surprised if he was even capable of being aware of any feelings he developed for someone.” Aerea’s words were softer, more airy, than her twin sister’s. That was the only indication the older of them was even paying attention, she seemed more preoccupied with walking her fingers up one of the poster’s of Rhea’s bed.

“You talk as if Griffith has ever felt anything more complex for a woman than lust or brotherly protectiveness,” Rhea said.

Aerea shrugged and leaned against Rhea, her trail up the bedpost left abandoned. “I know him well enough to guess.”

“If the two of you only have negative things to say about your brother, why are you helping me to win his committed affection?”

“Because we like you, and you mean a good deal to our cousins.” Aerea was still leaning hard against her.

“And because it will be better for our brother in the long run if he settles down, and better for us if he stops tarnishing the reputation of our half of the family. I don’t want to be the sister of the man who has ruined every woman he comes in contact with.”

“I am sure it has nothing to do with how good and romantic a story Griffith’s taming would make, right Adrienne?” Rhea teased, bringing color to her cousin’s cheeks. She turned away quickly, trying to hide her flush from the room full of women.

“Friendship with Rhea and Helaena and Abby, and not sullying your debuts with his reputation, and good stories; right, good, motivations in order. Can someone please help me figure out how to make Griffith Tyrell fall in love with me so I can stop pining? I want to kiss him so badly that I am fit to burst, and you two said I should not even do that!”

“Because that is how he will ensnare you, and the next thing you know you are one more in his long string of abandoned lovers, and no one gets what they want except him.”

Mya sighed tiredly. She was resigned to something, although Rhea could not be sure if it was to “her fate” of eternally trying to win Griffith over, or to subjecting herself to whatever the twins told her to do. Whichever it was, both would be over soon. He was as stubborn as his sisters said, that much was true, but he was not completely without all good sense. If Abby had been able to win Aegon over and reform him from his rakish ways, then Mya could do the same for Griffith. He was no worse, he was just craftier and less aware of his own heart.

“What we need to do is plan one big, grand moment that will make him realize if he has fallen for you or not. If we can make this Griffith’s idea, and if he becomes aware of it all at once, he will have to do something about it. That is his way after all,” Rhea proposed.

“Rhea is right!” Aerea sat up all at once, making her wince as she shouted. She shoved her younger cousin's shoulder, grumbling how she hurt her ears.

“Oh, yes!” Abby perked back up at that, her pout turning into a grin that spread across her freckled face, “That is brilliant, Rhea. Between all of us, we will find a way to make Griffith jealous.”

“I did not say to make him jealous.” Rhea clarified, skeptical of Abby’s trail of thought.

“No, but what better way to go about your suggestion is there?” She rebutted, doubling down on her plan of playing to Griffith’s jealousy.

Rhea ran her tongue over her teeth. There wasn't a better way; her father, Aegon, Aemond, even Stannis; none of them were immune to such feelings, so neither was Griffith. Surely. So if there was a surefire way to know if all their long attempts at getting him to love Mya in a truer way than he told all the other young women had paid off while he simply stubbornly clung to the known of his old ways, it would be to see if he got possesively jealous towards her affections.

“Alright Abrogail, what do you propose?”

“Nothing yet, we need a place and time for me to really get a good plot that is likely to work.”

“The ball Lady Johanna is hosting to try and suss out good matches for her girls,” Mya offered, her tone so casual it could have been an off-handed remark, “because it is not like her husband is trying terribly hard to look.”

“Because Lord Jason Lannister is a man with very little going on in his mind beyond his own importance,” Adrienne quipped. Her opinion of her third cousin mirrored every other member of her grandmother’s family, and if it was not so funny to see him live up to those opinions by bumbling through social interactions, a trifle disguised and riding high off his own pomp, Rhea would have felt bad for the man.

“Oh, yes! That is perfect!” Abby took a few steps away from where Mya sat, her hands clasped in front of her chest as a dreamy look entered her eyes, “We will all make sure you are absolutely incomparable, and as soon as we have eyes on Griffith and know he is aware of your presence, you will dance with someone else. A big show must be made of it too, he must see you can easily replace his spot on your dance card. All of the spots, even! He shan’t even have a chance with you tonight unless he begs, because Mya Redfort is not so easily won over.”

“I like your plan, but what if whoever I dance with instead gets the wrong idea and thinks I do want to replace Griffith?”

“Dance with Stannis. The threat of you being willing to do something besides pining for Griffith the whole night is still there, but he is already married and is head-over-heels for Helaena.”

“Rhea, that is so brilliant I could kiss you!”

“Remember Baldric, subtlety is key.” Griffith whispered in his younger cousin's ear before gently pushing him in the direction of the Lannister girls. Whether Baldric was determined to follow in his and Aegon’s footsteps, or start off as seriously as his brother did not matter. Subtlety in his advances and flirtations had served Griffith well, and so it would serve his young protege as he was thrust onto society.

Griffith only made a brief glance towards his cousin as he greeted Lady Johanna's two oldest girls; he was interested in Baldric's progress, but he could hear about it later. He had plans for the night…or well, he had Aegon’s plans (their wording altered slightly so as to be about Mya Redfort instead of Abrogail). This night was for pulling out all the stops, for wooing his blonde beauty and finally winning a kiss “to spur him” into telling her how besotted he was–as if he were so overcome in the moment he had to tell her right then, and had not been fretting for two days over his sudden reform.

Griffith breezed through the crowd, gray eyes sweeping across every gathered face until he saw her. Her gown was red, it usually was at these sorts of functions, with puffed white sleeves and a bodice that seemed to act more as a shelf to push her breasts up than anything else. Tight, blonde curls framed her face, and a comb with red roses held her bun in place. He would have thought Mya looked beautiful at any given point on a Tuesday morning, flushed from laughter at some conspiratorial secret she shared and in one of the day dresses she always wore, her gloveless fingers stained from eating too many raspberries, but tonight she made Griffith nearly forget to breath. If it were not improper, he would be her partner for every dance so that no one else could.

He plucked two champagne flutes from the tray a servant held as he passed by on his way to where Mya stood with his cousins. Appearing effortlessly out of the crowd, her first drink of the night already on offer, was all part of the plan. It was not Griffith being a besotted fool like Aegon. 

“Miss Redfort.” 

Her green eyes, already large and expressive, were wide as she looked up at him. Mya was already flying her colors, her cheeks subtly red and undoubtedly warm. Her pretty, pink mouth opened with a false start, and she pressed her lips together for a thoughtful moment before properly saying anything.

“It is very good to see you this evening, Mister Tyrell,” her eyes flickered to the glass he held out towards her, “and it is thoughtful of you to already be seeing to my needs.”

“I am nothing but thoughtful. And in my thoughtfulness, I came to the idea that, once you were done of course, I could have the honor of your first dance of the evening.”

“My first dance has already been promised to Stannis.”

His head whipped towards his cousin, who looked a bit bewildered for a moment. Then, Stannis’s eyes met Griffith’s, and an easy smile (an expression that would have looked as at home on his younger brother) spread across his face. He had been told the plan, both he and Baldric had because it was the way of things, Stannis knew Griffith was to woo Mya as an excuse to tell her everything. Surely he would not dare be overcome by one of his rare moods of mischief now. His having no taste for “such games” could not mean he would throw a rub in the way, because that would be participating.

“Indeed it has. Sorry, Griff.”

Helaena slipped her hand from the crook of Stannis’s elbow, and he offered his hand to Mya. Griffith seethed as his lady placed her hand atop his cousin’s and let herself be led away. Rhea and Abby giggled as they leaned into each other, and his mouth turned down into a tight, visible frown. Neither of those two were getting the champagne, that was certain, and so Griffith shoved it towards Stannis’s wife. Helaena either did not know or did nor care about what was going on, and happily took the delicate flute of sparkling wine from him.

Rhea grinned, every bit as smug as any of Griffith’s company was capable of. “Why, Griffith–”

He did not wait for whatever Rhea was going to say, silently stalking further into the ballroom so as to continue watching Mya and Stannis. And heavens but Mya was graceful, even if she was dancing with another man. Griffith’s nose scrunched, that should be him she glided about with. What good was a dance with Stannis, anyhow? He was married already and not even half the catch Griffith was. Or, no, that was a disservice to both Helaena and, under circumstances where his head was clearer, his friend; Stannis was not half as good a catch for Mya. He was perfect for Aegon’s sister though, strange as she might be at times.

“You are upset.”

“Shit!” He startled so that champagne sloshed over the rim of his glass. Griffith would never know if it was not being able to hear Helaena’s approach over the music and the gossip, or if it was just her silent skulking that made her able to sneak up on him.

“You are not doing a good job at hiding it,” she continued, voice bland and matter-of-fact, “you never do. You should not be surprised I noticed.”

“I’m not surprised you–shouldn’t you be giggling with Rhea and Abrogail?”

“I do not think what they’re giggling about is funny.”

“Fair enough.”

“It does seem to have worked though.” Helaena said before taking a sip of the champagne that had been meant for Mya.

“What worked?”

“Abrogail’s plan to make you jealous for Mya’s attention; something about you not noticing feelings, and grand conspiracies they all came up with. It all seems silly to me, and I doubt Stannis would have danced with Mya if he knew.”

They could not have schemes, he had schemes! Throwing propriety to the wind in a move that would have probably made Aegon proud, Griffith downed the whole flute of champagne in one go, finishing it just in time to thrust the now empty glass into the hands of one of the Lannister’s butlers. If Mya was going to try and make him jealous in some gambit to–fiend seize it, who even knew what her gambit was! Either way, two could play at this game, and at the end of the night one of them would get whatever it was they wanted.

“Helaena, would you like to dance?”

“I shall pretend I could not hear you, and that way no one can be offended.”

“I’m offended.”

“At this moment, I don’t think you count.”

Griffith scoffed, even more offended now. What had he done to her?! It was not like he’d ever flirted with Helaena, Stannis had wanted her since they were boys and it would not have been right.

“I don’t want to join whatever games you and Mya are playing at, and I don’t think you should even be engaging in them in the first place. They do not make any sense” Helaena paused to take another sip, and then continued, “you are not dimwitted, although you are acting a bit like it right now, you know how Mya feels about you, Griffith. She feels how every woman you’ve charmed feels about you, and you know how you feel–”

“And how do I feel, Helaena?”

“More strongly than you would ever want to let on, if you actually rising to the bait means anything.” And it did, she knew it did, because Stannis’s wife was obnoxiously insightful. Griffith did not respond, he let her stew in how right she was in silence, and after a moment, Helaena continued.

“I don’t know why you cannot just tell her.”

“Because…because.”

She blinked slowly, her light purple eyes boring into him with all the intensity his sister Aerea’s eyes ever carried, or his Uncle Aemon’s. She was waiting for a justification that would not come, because Griffith wasn’t sure there was one.

“So there is no reason you cannot tell her how you feel towards her, just as I said. And you must know that you never telling her will get neither of you what you desire, and that should she move on because you never commit, that you will never be as happy in your rakish behavior as you were before all of this nonsense that has been going on all season ever since you failed to get Mya into your bed the first time.”

“How does Stannis tolerate you always being right?”

“He does not ‘tolerate’ anything, he likes it.”

Griffith and Helaena stood silently next to each other after that, the both of them watching the dancers sweep across the floor. He watched Stannis and Mya, still burning with jealousy because of his infuriating cousins. Helaena probably watched everyone, or if she was watching Stannis and Mya it was not because of jealousy, but because of how well she liked him.

He took his first steps when the final few notes of the dance began, he knew all of the music from these balls as well as he knew the back of his own hand, or as well as he knew how to elicit sweeter sounds from whatever woman he’d set his sights on. Mya Redfort in this case, and in all the cases for the rest of his life. Because apparently these sorts of things were inevitable for his family.

“Miss Redfort.”

“Oh! Mister Tyrell,” she smiled up at him, just as teasing as it always was these past three months, but more knowing than coy, “I presume you are here for that dance? I shall have to check my card, I believe it is already full, or nearly at least.”

“We must talk.” He cut in quickly before she could continue, his hand involuntarily coming to rest on her upper arm. Her cheeks went red again, brighter than before, and an increasingly familiar spark of hope shone in her green eyes.

“Must?”

“It is important, gravely so…please.”

“Alright.” Her voice was soft as a breath, and Griffith dropped his hand to offer Mya his arm. She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, and her smile betrayed her excitement. Mya had fully convinced herself she was getting exactly what she wanted how she had planned to get it, but she didn’t because it was Helaena that got him to speak to her plainly, not whatever she had plotted with Rhea and Abby. Griffith at least had the satisfaction of that.

“I'll make sure Lady Johanna does not see the two of you leaving and send out a chaperone.” Stannis whispered before side-stepping between two gathering groups of dancers and making his way back into the throng of guests in the ballroom. He was a good and reliable chap when nerves or a bout of humor that came at someone else's expense did not overtake him.

Mya clung to Griffith’s arm as they made their way through the ballroom and out the side door that led into the manor’s grounds. The gardens at Casterly weren't much in comparison to Thorn Hall, but they were nice enough, and it wasn't like the pair of them were there to take in the scenery. They remained silent when they stopped in front of the fountain, the only sound the quiet splash of water from the lion's mouth falling into the basin at its stone paws.

Coming up with what to say had felt easy when he schemed with Aegon, it was so much more intimidating to think of what to tell Mya when saying plainly how he felt loomed before him. Griffith had never been so true in any of the pretty words he so easily spun for the women who came before her, and now that he meant everything it felt like every word he’d ever known left him. Mya brought her hands to clasp in front of her chest and turned to face him, it was now or never.

“This evening has not gone at all how I planned it to, but it has still brought me to the ending I wanted…or at least something similar.”

“Us being alone together hardly constitutes you having your way.”

“I did not bring you here to–blast and damnation–Mya Redfort, I love you!”

“Truly?” Even though this was what she'd wanted, she sounded surprised and disbelieving. Mya, it would seem, had not planned this far either.

“Deeply, madly. For months I have thought about, have wanted, no one but you. It is as if you have bewitched me…and it frightens me. I do not know what to do with such sincerity, except to offer it to you and hope you will have it. And–and hope you will have me; mind, body, soul, whatever you desire of me, Mya, you shall have it. I would not want to give myself to anyone else.”

“Oh…oh, Griffith,” her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but she smiled all the same, “I love you too. I have loved you.” There was weight there. She’d been harboring such affections for him for months at least. Had it been years? He hoped not, Griffith did not like the thought of Mya silently pining as he flirted and fucked his way through dozens for three years; disappointing her as he carried on so. No, he would banish the thought. It didn't matter now. This moment was all that mattered.

He gently cupped her cheek, and she leaned into his touch. “Would you marry me, if I asked?”

“I would. And…and would you stay and still mean all of what you said if I let you kiss me?”

“Wild horses could not drag me away.” His gaze did not break from Mya’s as his hand slid from her soft cheek to her jaw, his thumb resting under her chin so he could tilt her head back. Her eyes were wide and wanting, and she parted her lips as Griffith leaned down to kiss her.

Mya kissed him back, firm and hungry, as her hands came to his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his coat as if that would hold him in place forever. As if she needed to go to that much effort.

They were breathless when the kiss broke, and Griffith put his forehead against hers as he gently ran his thumb over her lower lip. His other hand went to her waist, and he wanted desperately to pull her as close as he could, to guide Mya into grinding against him. 

“I love you, Mya.” No amount of times he could tell her would be enough to satisfy him.

“Enough to kiss me again?”

“For that and more.” He did as she bid, teasingly brief, as his hand dropped from her jaw and came to hold her waist like his other. Mya pressed her lips together into a tight frown, her brows furrowing over her pretty green eyes. She released his coat and held his face now, pulling Griffith’s mouth down into hers to kiss him how she had meant.

He smiled into the kiss, truly being in love only changed a handful of things really, and walked Mya backwards until her knees hit the basin of the fountain. She sat there, dragging Griffith with her so he loomed over her.

He leaned on one arm, his hand flat against the smooth stone of the fountain basin and placed close enough to Mya that his thumb was against her hip. His other hand came to her thigh, giving it a brief squeeze through the satiny fabric of her red gown. Griffith would not push her for more than this, he could make himself be satisfied if she wanted to wait for their engagement or even their marriage for anything more intimate, but he could still relish in touching her and silently pray for more. He was still getting what he wanted after all: turning Mya Redfort into Mya Tyrell.

[ranchracoon]

Ch. 25 Home

The music roared from behind the gate, if you looked closely enough you could see it shaking from the vibrations. The fall festival was in full swing, the smell of pumpkin pie, spices, and cider made your mouth water in anticipation. You looked up at Donna who smiled back down at you, she held your hand tightly and you squeezed hers in response. Donna took a deep breath and pushed open the gate to reveal everyone dressed up like different monsters and creatures; kids were running around with chocolate and other sugary delights coating their mouths. You clutched the envelope closer to your chest to keep it from blowing away in the cold breeze, Donna side stepped out of the way for some children to run through.

Since the wedding she's been more open to coming into the village, the villagers threw you and her a large celebration in honor of your marriage. Contrary to her belief, the villagers were accepting of Donna, many of them understandably skeptical at first but welcomed her nonetheless. You and her passed by a stall with freshly baked cinnamon rolls, Donna's eye widened to the size of the moon and stopped dead in her tracks. It seems the kids of the village wouldn't be the only ones with a sugar high this night. Donna looked over at you, silently asking to get one and you sighed defeatedly.

"Fine, but only one you hear me? Otherwise you're sleeping with Angie tonight." You warned.

Donna perked up and kissed your cheek before turning toward the vendor while reaching into her pocket for the lei. On your wedding night, instead of fucking your brains out, Donna spent all night puking out hers because she discovered the wonders of unadulterated access to sugar. You waited patiently until she returned with half the roll already eaten within the two steps it took from you to the stall, she offered you the other half and you acted shocked at the gesture. She shrugged and pulled it back to eat it but you swiped it from her hand and stuffed it into your mouth. Donna smirked and kissed you, licking the sugar from the corner of your lips while doing so.

With your face fully red all the way to your ears, Donna smirked triumphantly then took your hand again to lead you toward the village center. The music was getting louder to the point it hurt your ears from how close you were standing, but thankfully you didn't have to stand long because you saw who you were looking for. Cassandra was walking on the other side of the center with her sisters, their mother right behind them and all of them ducked into the blacksmith's shop. You ran over with Donna in tow and caught the door before it fully closed behind them and slipped on in, Daniela spotted you first of course and embraced you in a bone-crushing hug.

"Oh you guys came! I'm so happy to see you." Daniela squealed.

"You just saw us a few days ago when we visited you." You choked out.

"A few days is a few months in Daniela time." Bela joked.

Daniela released you and paused in front of Donna, she hesitated at first but then opened her arms and braced when Daniela lunged into her full force. Johanna came out from a door behind the counter and smiled brightly at Cassandra who leaned on her elbows on the counter. You glanced over at Alcina who was distracted by something hanging in the window then crept over to Cassandra and leaned next to her.

"I have something for you." You said quietly as you slid the envelope over.

Cassandra gasped and took it within a blink, "what is it?" she asked curiously.

"Well...remember that conversation we had where you said you wanted to leave the village? I'm giving you all the assets my aunt left me. You can do whatever you please with them, sell them, keep them, I don't have any use for any of it. There is one condition though, you have to mail me a souvenir from every place you travel to, even if it's just a postcard."

The two of them stared at you like you just spoke to them in a different language, you glanced between them and felt a familiar heat rush to your ears.

"Do-do you mean it?" Johanna asked quietly.

Cassandra looked up at you as you smiled at her and nodded your head, she set the envelope down carefully then took you into an even tighter hug than Daniela's. You choked a little but wrapped your arms around her and held her until she let go, backing away and then reaching over to take Johanna's hand.

"I guess we better break the news to everyone then."

Johanna nodded in agreement, "lets meet in the dining room with my parents."

Johanna called everyone's attention and invited the Dimitrescus, Donna, and you into the dining room. In there was a man and woman who looked about Angie's age, the man was shorter than you which made you feel better about being surrounded by extraordinarily tall women. He stood and offered his seat to Alcina who graciously took it and sat next to, whom you presumed was his wife. Cassandra and Johanna stood in front of the table with everyone looking at them, you and Donna stood in the back toward the door. You wanted to make a quick exit in case you needed to once Alcina heard the news.

"Um Johanna and I have something to tell you all." Cassandra took a deep breath, "we're going to get married this winter and leave the village in spring when the snow melts from the pass."

You could hear an ant fart with how quiet it was, the news settling thickly in the air until Alcina abruptly stood. The chair scrapped against the wooden flooring and made you flinch, even Daniela and Bela leaned away from her. Alcina took a deep breath and held her hands in front of her, her shoulders tense despite her calm facial expression. Johanna's mother sniffled at tears fell down her cheeks and she used a handkerchief to wipe them away.

"How do you plan on accomplishing this?" she asked calmly.

"With this." Cassandra held up the envelope, "Y/N gave us enough money to not only travel but live a comfortable life outside of this village. I promise we'll come back to visit in the spring and summer. Our compromise was having the wedding here. Please mother, this is all I've ever wanted."

Johanna's mother stood, "why do you want to leave me?" She sobbed.

"Momma I'm not leaving you but, you and I both know that there's only so much I can do here. All I do is fix farm equipment now and then. I want to explore, learn, and start a family."

Cassandra turned sharply in Johanna's direction, Johanna and everyone in the room tensed as Alcina walked around the table. She approached them like a predator stalking its prey, she stood in front of the two women, silently looking them over then her shoulders sagged.

"I did try to change your mind, and I am upset that you went behind my back to find an alternative way to leave but I suppose it's my fault for pushing you away rather than accepting your wishes. I didn't want to accept that my baby wants to spread her wings and start her own life. Please promise me that you will be safe, you will write, you will visit, and most importantly remember that you always have a home here." Alcina stated firmly.

"I promise mother." Cassandra responded.

Johanna and Cassandra looked up at Alcina then hugged her tightly, she hugged them back and held them close. She kissed both of their cheeks before standing upright, you looked over at Johanna's mother who still sobbed but her father stood behind her with his hands on the back of the chair. She stood up and walked out of the dining room, covering her face with her handkerchief as Johanna's father sighed.

"Johanna, I always knew you were too bright for this village. Your fire burned hotter than any hearth, and you know your mother and I only want the best for you. You can't get much better than blessings from three lords, I'll support you in any way possible."

"What about momma?" Johanna asked.

"She'll come around. She always does."

He held his hand out and Johanna walked over to shake it, then she jumped up and hugged him around his neck. Daniela groaned loudly and this time the attention was on her as she dramatically threw herself back against the wall with Bela smiling proudly.

"Thanks a lot Cas, now I owe Bela 500 lei." She sighed with feigned annoyance.

"We made a bet who would get married first; you or her. Congratulations Cassandra and Johanna." Bela clarified.

"We need to start planning!" Daniela exclaimed to change the subject.

Daniela dragged Johanna and Bela dragged Cassandra out of the home, Alcina reached over and took the envelope for safekeeping. Cassandra smiled at you as she passed by, you waited until they left the shop and looked up at Donna who raised an eyebrow back at you.

"He said three lords, there's you and Alcina. Who's the third?" You asked.

Donna smiled widely and giggled quietly, "you my love. When you became my wife, you also took on the title of lord. Would you prefer lady like Alcina?"

You shook your head and scrunched your nose, the thought of being a lord made your anxiety spike, "will I have to come to those meetings that you go to?"

"Only if you want."

You were about to say something back when Alcina approached you, she looked down at you and you shrugged down into yourself. She motioned with her head for you to follow her and that you did; she walked outside and around the corner where the music was dulled. She held the envelope tightly and looked off into the distance, Donna stood by you and leaned against the brick of the building.

"Alcina let me-" you started.

"Quiet." She ordered.

"Yep."

She turned to face you and you expected to see anger, resentment, something but her face remained neutral. Her green eyes almost shined from the street lamp above her and you could see them dart around your body. You rolled and unrolled the hem of your shirt, you wanted to beg for forgiveness and tell her you were sorry but another part of you wanted to stand your ground and tell her off. Instead you stood there frozen under her gaze, she blinked slowly and she looked up toward Donna.

"Would you mind giving us a moment?" Alcina asked.

You looked over your shoulder and saw Donna push herself off the wall and walked around the corner. Your throat felt dry and you tried to gulp but you produced nothing, leaving you to choke a little on the air.

"I knew this day would come and I couldn't be prouder of her. Johanna is a wonderful woman, and I knew that eventually I would give in. In fact, I was going to surprise her this upcoming winter solstice with the money and means to leave, but you beat me to it."

She held up the envelope, twisting it around in her hand, "so, you're giving everything away hm?"

"If there was anything you wanted of hers, you can look through the list of her things. I know you two were close."

"I absolutely loathed the woman, the only reason I humored her was because it's the proper thing to do. I do not want anything."

Your mouth dropped and you started to laugh, you weren't expecting that. Alcina dropped her hand and chuckled, covering her mouth with her other until she stopped laughing. She took a step toward you and rested her hand on your shoulder, she leaned down to your ear, close enough you could smell her perfume.

"If you ever go behind my back or pull something like this again, I will end you."

You shot a look at her and nodded your head in understanding, she tapped your shoulder and walked away. After you unclenched your jaw and could breath again you went back around the corner to find Donna waiting for you. She was standing by herself next to some other villagers who didn't have dance partners, when she saw you her face lit up and her eye crinkled from how big she smiled. She approached you and wrapped her arms around you, kissing the side of your head.

"Thanks for leaving me." You mumbled into her shoulder.

"Sorry mi amor but you're on your own when it comes to Alcina. She is one out of three women I will never cross. The other two being Mother Miranda and Angie."

"Understandable." You groan.

"Still love me?" She asked.

You look up at her and narrow your eyes, "yeah I guess."

She chuckles lowly and brushes her fingers through your hair while holding you tightly, you sigh and breath in her smell. You wrap your arms around her waist and you listen to her heartbeat beating, everything else fades away. When you came to this village you wanted nothing more than to leave, you never saw yourself finding a life out here let alone someone like Donna. For the first time in many years, since you could remember, you felt safe. You felt at home.

The end.

Master Post

[jaylienpotter]

Jegulus microfic | 1.8k

TW: implied sex, trauma, discussion about sexual abuse/assault, discussion about r*pe, incest

Obliviate

"Hey Reggie!" James placed a sweet and eager kiss on his boyfriend's lips. "Sorry, the boys wanted to do something and when I said I was ditching to see you, well, your brother stalled me even more..."

"Ugh. Typical Sirius. He's such a drama queen. One of the few things he takes after the family." He rolled his eyes, the icy blue nearly on the back of his head. It was almost scary, the things he could do with his eyes. Like stare you down, even if you're way taller.

"Well, what do you feel like doing? Where shall our date be?" He grinned at the word 'date', always a lovestruck puppy. He was so obviously in love. After they told people about their relationship, he'd use every moment he could to tell the world who he was dating.

Regulus pretended to be annoyed but he found it quite cute. James was a summer child in a teenager's body. "My dorm...? It's empty. Will be for some hours."

"Lead the way, my star."

Jamie had never been to the Slytherin common room, immeadiately pointing out the "depressing" lack of light. He wasn't expecting, however, a big window to the inside of the lake. He talked about the differences from the Gryffindor's (which Regulus had already been to). He had to be quite literally dragged away from the water's view, into the dormitory. The door had barely closed before Black kissed his boyfriend against the wall.

"You talk too much."

"Oh. Uh- okay." Poor boy looked like a deer in the headlights, somewhat disoriented from the unexpected deep kiss.

"You're cute when you're flustered."

"Oh, really?" Tanned hands wrapped around a smaller, much paler body, plump lips against the downturned smirk. The kiss was teasing yet silly, some chuckles or giggles escaping in between pecks. They progressively got more intense and deeper, the sneaky marauder placed his leg in between Reg's, pressing up. He got pulled away.

"Shit, sorry! I thought- Don't worry, we don't have to do anything if you're not ready." The sincerity could be seen through the panic in his dark, warm eyes.

"It's okay. Don't worry about it."

"I'm sorry, the way you said for us to come here because we'd be by ourselves... and pushed me against the wall... I got the wrong idea, I'm sorry. But I won't do anything you don't want me to, alright? I promise."

The shortest sighed, looking down. "It's not that, I just-" Words got stuck "-It doesn't matter."

"Of course it does... Reg, you can talk to me. What were you going to say? I won't get hurt or mad or any of that."

His gaze was avoided for a few seconds. "Do you promise you won't tell anyone? Not even Sirius?"

"Is he involved...?"

"No. I just don't want him to know."

"I respect that. I solemnly swear I'll keep it a secret." The other boy took a deep breath and sat on the bed, followed by his boyfriend.

"When... when I was 7, the family gathered for my aunt Druella's birthday party-" He paused for a few seconds. "My cousin Bella called me up to her room to play. I was happy because Sirius was talking to Dromeda so I went." James was silent, listening attentively. Which Regulus appreciated. "She uhm... we played a game - rather, she told me to play a game - in which I was supposed to have my eyes closed and guess what I was touching. First it was things like a quill, a family heirloom... Then she placed my hand on her boob. To me it was just a game so I guessed. When I got it right she praised me-" An exhale left abruptly, one he didn't know he was holding back. "And... Lastly she put my hand- like... in her, you know...? Like... Inside her vulva."

Beetle eyes widened, but before he could get an answer, Reg kept talking. If he stopped, he might not have the guts to ever finish.

"She used my hand to make herself feel good and I opened my eyes. I didn't understand what it meant back then. It was a tad weird, given the purpose of the 'game'. But I didn't know better, I mean I was a child."

"How old was she?"

"17. She's 10 years older than me."

"Fuck... Reggie I-"

He extended his white palm, faced towards the listener. "I'm not finished." He hoped it didn't sound rude. He just couldn't stop now. "She tried to obliviate me after she was done. But she didn't do the spell right and I looked so confused already that it seemed like it worked. She doesn't know I remember." He sighed, allowing for comments or questions. He needed a little break.

"I'm so sorry... That's- that's fucked up. Really fucked up... Can I hug you?"

"No, at least not yet." He was offered a hand, which he took in his. Thankfully Potter wasn't judging him. Nor making him feel guilty for it. It was comforting. "Bellatrix- she wasn't the only one. In the summer before my second year, my uncle Cygnus pulled me to the side. Locked the door, did an impertupable charm and took his pants off. Told me to suck him. I didn't want to. Already understood what it meant. But he said he'd use Imperio and I didn't have my wand. Screaming was useless. Plus, there's Dark Magic in the family, I don't doubt he'd use it. So I did it. Felt horrible. He tried to penetrate me afterwards but it didn't fit. He didn't want the family to find out from my crying face and decided to just finish in my mouth. I guess like father, like daughter." His deep breath was jagged, as if he had said all of it in one breath. His snuffle made him realise he had started crying at some point. He hated crying. Fucking hated it. Taught it was weak.

"You never told anyone...?" Blue eyes met brown for the first time since they sat down.

"No. You're the first." Not even Pandora. Reg loved her. She was his bestest friend. But he was too ashamed to admit what happened and saw no reason to expose himself. "My uncle told me no one would believe me, that I'd be ridiculed and get taken out of Hogwarts. Thanks for not making me feel bad about it..."

"Of course, love... I'm so sorry that happened to you... I'm here whenever you need to talk about it. About your feelings." Soft fingers cleaned the wetness from pink cheeks.

"Thanks, Jamie. But I'm not ready for that yet. I'll accept that hug, however..." His amazingly supportive and kind boyfriend opened his arms wide, wrapping them around the small body lovingly. He caressed jet black hairs, kissing that head right after.

"I'll always be here for you. And you don't have to worry about sex, alright? If we never do anything it's okay. I don't mind. Just want to be by your side." More tears fell. Although these ones were out of happiness, relief.

"I think I love you."

"I know I love you."

[emmis15]

Daryl's three favorite memories,

2-

Daryl was leaning against the corner of that small room as loud music played. The tears streaming down his face were inevitable, and he was trying everything he could to stop them and at least close his eyes. Lost in hopelessness and the desire to die, he couldn't shake the guilt of the situation, along with not knowing what was happening outside or how Kat was doing. He stared at a fixed point between the dim light coming in and the floor, reminiscing about an old memory from when they were at the prison.

—Judith, I promise if you stop crying for Aunt Kat, I'll let you play with my pens, okay? —I heard the whisper of my "girlfriend's" soft voice as she returned from guard duty; dawn was breaking through the cell windows.

—What are you doing?—I leaned against the bars of the open door, looking at her. She looked tired, her hair tied back haphazardly, and dark circles prominent under her eyes.

—I accidentally hit the metal plate with the candle and woke her up, so I'm trying to calm her down so the others can sleep a little longer.—Kat rocked the baby in her arms as she whispered to him, but the little troublemaker wouldn't stop crying.

I approached her and took the baby from her arms, resting the baby's head on my shoulder and moving around the small space just as I had seen Carol and Beth do many times before. Kat tied her hair back better, focusing on organizing the scattered papers on the desk quickly.

—Did you get any sleep? —I asked, running my hand over Judith's head.

—Sleeping these days is a waste of time. I have to make the most of it to organize the group my way while Rick is grieving and having schizophrenic episodes anyway—she replied brusquely. I raised an eyebrow at her tone, which made her relax, calm her shoulders, and lean against the table.

Her arms crossed over her chest as she sighed, looking at her worn-out sneakers and the dirty floor. I could see her biting her lip hard as she avoided my gaze.

—You should sleep— I said, looking at her.

—At the moment, that's a luxury I can't afford.

—I know we're all going through a tough time. Lori's death was unexpected, but believe me, even when we have to regroup without Rick, we all take some rest, even if it's just a little.

—I know, and all I care about is that everyone rests so we can work tomorrow. But I took Rick's place for a reason; I can handle these situations. I can multitask, but time waits for no one, and I can't waste minutes or hours closing my eyes only to realize tomorrow that no one is guarding the fence or that essential supplies are missing. — his hands moved to his hips as he spoke.

—I know, really, I do, dear, but you can't carry the entire group on your shoulders, okay? We're supposed to be a team, or isn't that what you always say? —I asked in a softer tone as the baby began to fall asleep.

—That's what I say, but every team has a leader. Rick was the leader, but now he's seeing things in the air or ignoring his son, and I can't let everything fall apart. We all contribute in some way, but there will always be someone who has to bear the brunt of it, and that's okay because I want to be that person. I have ideas and an organization that's self-sufficient and fair to everyone, better than what we had before—she grabbed her papers and showed them to me, proving her point.

I sighed heavily and approached her, picking up the scribbled sheets with indecipherable handwriting and putting them back where they were before embracing her tightly against my chest. I could feel her muscles relax under my touch as she wrapped her arms around my body.

—I'm pretty sure your plan for managing everything and ensuring equitable tasks will be a success, I know it. But I need you to rest because when you go to manage everything and control or do your tasks, it'll be very hard for you. You'll get tired, and somehow you'll end up ruining your perfectly planned work— I spoke against her hair, kissing her forehead gently.

We remained silent, enjoying the rays of sun beginning to enter through the small window, the light gradually warming our skin.

—¿You are going to sleep?

—No, I have to explain my plan and convince everyone that it's the best idea. Forget all of Rick's work to do what I want while he's grieving. Besides, I promised Lori to take care of her son, so I have to give everything I can to make his grieving process as bearable as possible and not force his sister onto him as an obligation— she pulled away from me as she spoke, running her hands over her face to wake herself up.

—Carl is a smart kid, ¿okay? He will realize when you are with him out of obligation and fatigue, and that will not help.

—But at least I'm doing something, okay? I'm not trying to shield him from pain or ignore him like Rick does. I promised Lori I'd take care of her son and daughter, and if I have to collapse from exhaustion to do it, I will, not just for him, but for everyone.

—You should be able to rest and enjoy the possible stability it gives you. Not carrying all the work or the burden of the group, trying to live a normal life that we will never have again. That's your problem too, Kat. You are trying to paint reality rosy so that we can feel good about the little normality we have in this new world.

¿The problem? When everything goes to hell, it is a much harder blow for everyone to face reality.

—I can't do it. Someone has to suffer for everyone else to be happy, and I offer myself as a tribute to the harsh reality, so everyone can have a plate of food, shelter, family, comics, and baby food—she was about to slam her hand on the table, but my tense look at Judith stopped her in time, letting her hand drop slowly onto the wood.

I sighed, she was as stubborn as a mule, but I wouldn't stop until she could close her eyes for at least five minutes.

—Let's make a deal, ¿okay? I need to sleep now. I'll give you three hours to do everything, and if you're not in my bed with me by 9, I'll come looking for you— I pointed at her sternly.

She gave me a dirty look, but she nodded anyway, just in time to hear the whole group starting to get up because the sun was already high in the sky.

I left Judith in Carol's arms before walking to my cell and collapsing onto the lousy bed to grab a couple of branches that weren't yet arrows to distract myself, waiting for her to come to my arms. Calculating the time with a tap of my foot against the wall and in my mind, counting the seconds and minutes like a clock.

I knew the three hours had passed because no one was in the dining area, and everyone was scattered with papers in their hands. It seemed like everyone had agreed to try Kat's idea, even if they didn't understand her handwriting or the concept, judging by the confusion on their faces, like Glenn's.

I was about to get up heavily and my eyes barely open, but I saw her walking tiredly to my cell.

—40 minutes, just that, Glenn's going to come wake me up because I know he won't have any compassion if I get mad at him for letting me sleep longer—she nestled into my chest as if it were her pillow and wrapped her arms around my neck.

—You and Maggie have the poor guy trapped between a rock and a hard place—I said with laughter in my voice, closing my eyes and enjoying her weight on my body.

I chuckled before feeling her lips on mine and then resting her head against my neck, my hands on her waist resting as if it were my home between the worn seams of her jeans and the little skin left exposed by the short shirt she was wearing.

Hello, I hope you like it and that you can give it a like or reblog to reach more people. English is not my native language, so if there is any mistake, please let me know respectfully <3