#oops i spent way too long writing this

[aastarions]

(18+) it's probably so overdone but my head spins at zhongli worshipping you in a similar fashion his people continue to worship him

the way they bow at his statue mirrors the way he drops to his knees in front of you, his heady gaze never faltering from your own unless absolutely necessary

the compliments that spill past zhongli's lips – with hope that doubt shall never cast a shadow over his complete and utter loyalty to you – samples the praise his people still sing of him to this day

the ancient people of liyue once scrambled for just a taste of what they believed to be the sacred waters of rex lapis atop mt. hulao – what would they think if they were to witness their god savoring every drop of your release as you cum on his fervent tongue?

the only time he resonates with his most devout worshippers, those who dangerously blur the line between faith and obsession, is when he's buried inside the temple that is your body – that is when he feels most alive, most human

that is when he truly understands what it means to dedicate one's life to a higher being

[amorelray]

VORTEX - An Analysis

Season 1/Start of Season 2 Analysis: ❗Season 1 Spoilers Ahead❗

Disclaimer: All thoughts are my own personal interpretation and contain my own theories. Additionally, this post will be of a significant length.

Starting with the Opening Chorus:

Let it unfold Will howling tides give me something to hold? On to my life when I've sunken so low Over the end of the vortex we took every breath to follow Where do we go Where do we end up when we save the world Truth in the shadows so brightened in gold Place our fate into the ones aren't in control

Starting out the season, Cheng Xiaoshi's life has been completely flipped upside down. From Qiao Ling being possessed by the other power user to Lu Guang bleeding out on their living room sofa, CXS is utterly at a loss as his life has "sunken so low." In fact, it's almost assumed that CXS blames himself for much - if not all - of what's happened as he knows the mistakes he made in the past likely led to change what has unfolded in the present. At the beginning of the season, the line that seemed to stand out the most was, "Place our fate into the ones aren't in control." This is said and fades out as CXS is falling, falling, falling and being thrown around through the chaos and void of everything around him. It fades out before hearing the word "control" very clearly and almost sets this tune of "slipping away," as if what little control he did have previously is sliding right through his fingers.

Verse 1:

Stop A couple things undue Drop the fight and let it follow through Freeze just for a sec or two Breathe again in the world anew I guess that there was never such a thing Like everything's meant to be But I'mma win this silly game Until then I will never leave Take back all my regrets And camouflage it like your silhouette Time is like music Play it 'til the end and then reset Knowing it all am I destined to fall? Like once you did for me

This verse at the beginning of the season very much felt like a promise from CXS to LG. Especially with the lines, "Take back all my regrets," "But I'mma win this silly game," and "Knowing it all am I destined to fall? Like once you did for me." Each one of them seemed to double down time and time again on CXS's resolve to fix the problem he likely believes to have created. Throughout the verse, he's falling and the audience sees glimpses of him being tossed around once again and LG falling as well - like a mirror to CXS. It's like CXS is watching both of them plummet due to his own wrong doings. However, while these lyrics paint one picture, the actual animation seems to paint another. During this verse, it's shown that LG is the one falling alongside our antagonist and QL while she's possessed. By showing the audience this image alongside the lyrics it can be inferred that there's something else going on with LG regarding these characters. At the beginning of the season, it was likely heavily believed that it had to do with LG's life hanging in the balance. However, there always seemed to be a sinister undertone that the audience seemed to clue in on and want to understand.

Backwards Portion:

In the intro, everything goes forward and during this portion, it all goes backwards. As the song rolls into the distorted backward melody, the audience watches as CXS falls over and over again; back to the beginning. After the smallest touch from LG's hand, CXS is dropped back into the chaos the same way he might be when he enters a photo after a shared high-five. The audience watches as everything slips away from CXS, completely unable to grab or hold onto anything to stop him from falling all over again.

I'll go into more of the full song in the next section as I didn't actually listen to it until the end of Season 2.

Overall, I believed that we were about to see a season where CXS would desperately try anything and everything to save LG, but that it might all have slipped away from him at the last second. However, just as I discussed in my "Dive Back in Time - Analysis," I was severely mistaken by what was hidden underneath in both of these openers.

❗Season 2 Spoilers & More In-Depth Analysis Below❗

Season 2 Analysis: ❗Season 2 Spoilers❗

Once we received the knowledge that LG had dove back in time to save CXS, the way this opener was interpreted changed quite a bit as well. I don't believe it was as drastic as Season 1's "Dive Back in Time," but it certainly did change.

Verse 1:

Stop A couple things undue Drop the fight and let it follow through Freeze just for a sec or two Breathe again in the world anew I guess that there was never such a thing Like everything's meant to be But I'mma win this silly game Until then I will never leave Take back all my regrets And camouflage it like your silhouette Time is like music Play it 'til the end and then reset Knowing it all am I destined to fall? Like once you did for me

Where, in the beginning, this verse seemed like a promise from CXS to LG, its script is nearly flipped as the audience discovers LG's secret. Once assumed to be CXS's words, it's almost certain that these are likely LG's instead or as well as CXS's. The word that really seems to prominently stick out is "undue." Why use that word? When first listening to the song, it's almost assumed that it's "undo" as in undoing the present or the past, unraveling something that was once almost certain. However, with the change of word, it changes this intention entirely. The way the word is used could imply 2 different things: 1. "A couple things undue" - Maybe a couple things that are excessive, inappropriate, or extreme that they have to deal with. Or... 2. "A couple things undue" - as in "not paid" or "not yet paid." This would be a good nod to the fact that LG had gone back in time to save CXS and his "death" is currently "unpaid." Additionally, the lyrics following: "Freeze just for a sec or two, Breathe again in the world anew," really seem to double down on that idea of CXS coming back and LG asking him to pause, wait, stay in the new world he created by going back in order to save CXS. However, once all of this starts unraveling again, LG seems to start questioning the world he created. "I guess that there was never such a thing, Like everything's meant to be." Reading the rest of the verse, it becomes increasingly more clear that this is more likely from LG's perspective and reflecting back on what is currently happening in their lives along with the decision that he made to go back and try it all over again. "Like once you did for me," really seems to seal the idea and theory that LG wanted to sacrifice himself in place of CXS at the top of Season 2.

Verse 2:

Back to me I know that you can track it back to me No matter who and what and when intertwined dive back in time The truth will remember our legacy Wasn't it hard to follow? I'd do it again tomorrow It drag me down and drag me down Maybe we'll never leave Like trying to bend water Why would you even bother Time is like music Now you know I've got to kill it Wanting it all And the whole world will crumble and fall

"Back to me, I know that you can track it back to me," immediately tips off that this entire verse desperately has to be from LG's POV. As it might have been assumed early in the season that "I know that you can track it back to me," could point towards CXS's mistakes from the previous season, knowing what LG did, this has to be about that. At the end of the day, LG knows that the choice he made to save CXS is the main node in this current timeline; and therefore, all of this can be tracked back to him and that one decision he made to go back. The next two lines heavily imply that LG knows that despite what happens in this timeline, the truth remembers their legacy (assumed LG & CXS). It's almost as if he's recognizing that this timeline might not be the truth, but that outside of this one lived experience, the galaxy, stars, truth will always remember what he and CXS were always meant to be and the true lives they were meant to carry. By stating this, it leads the audience to believe that there is in fact a true or correct timeline and that it's possible LG knows what it is. The following four lines, starting with: "Wasn't it hard to follow?" and ending with "Maybe we'll never leave," really reiterates that LG does not, under any circumstance, regret the decision that he made to go back. He may have broken his rule, but there's no remorse in doing so. LG also recognizes that the choice he made is nearly fruitless. "Like trying to bed water, Why would you even bother?" LG knows that it makes no sense that he even tried, but he talks about "Wanting it all" even though he knows that it would make "...the whole world will crumble and fall." Overall, this whole verse feels like LG basically saying a huge "fuck you" to the universe and expressing that he will do anything to ensure that a timeline where CXS is alive and well will exist.

Chorus:

Let it unfold Will howling tides give me something to hold? On to my life when I've sunken so low Over the end of the vortex we took every breath to follow Where do we go Where do we end up when we save the world Truth in the shadows so brightened in gold Place our fate into the ones aren't in control

By the end of the season, this chorus could easily be seen from LG's POV as well. "Let it unfold," - is this about the timeline/future that he's trying to see play out? The howling tides could be a nod towards all of the hard times they're going through as it might not be the best, but at least it's something - a timeline where CXS is alive, at least giving LG something to hold. Then, noting that his life has "sunken so low," likely because of how LG's life has dwindled to a place that he's just so desperately trying to save CXS that nothing else matters anymore. There's questions he seems to have for when they manage to set everything right and are allowed to move on. Where do they go from there? Everything LG will have fought for will have petered out and he sounds as if he might feel a little lost. Is he worried that CXS won't need him when they've managed to make everything right? "Truth in the shadows so brightened in gold." This line really feels like it's about CXS. The audience knows that CXS's eyes change to "gold" when he jumps in a picture. So, this line could possibly be LG pointing out that all of the "truth" that can be found is hidden, but may be found via CXS. As if he might be the key to "setting the truth right." Which leads to the final line of the chorus: "Place our fate into the ones aren't in control." Hearing this and knowing what place LG is in during the entire season, it could be inferred that he's placing their fate in CXS's hands and while he appeared to be the one "in control" during the season, he truly wasn't. Thus, placing their fate into the hands of someone not in control.

Closing Stanza:

I've held promises unbroken Even when the night has fallen Shattered mirrors our reflection Should you keep the light on reason I've held promises unbroken Shattered mirrors our reflection

It would be hard to believe that this could be anyone's POV except LG's after the end of Season 2. He's held many, many promises, rules, ideals- unbroken even in the hardest of situations. LG is presented time and time again throughout both seasons as a stickler for the rules. By doing this, it created a narrative for something like this: "I've held promises unbroken, Even when the night has fallen." While simultaneously creating a human aspect about him and allowing him to make a "human" mistake and become a "hypocrite" by breaking his own ideals to go back and save CXS. Thus, potentially leading to the next 2 lines: "Shattered mirrors our reflection, Should you keep the light on reason" LG recognizes that the shift and changes in the timeline has, in fact, "shattered" their reflection. It's almost alluded to that he's aware of the changes and multiple timeline parallels; and its even hinted at that this timeline might not even be the second or third one that he's lived through to try and save CXS. Additionally, when first listening to the line, it's curious that it's not written/sang in such a way that it sounds like "Shattered mirrors. Our reflection," as if indicating shattered mirrors being their reflection, but that "shattered" is what mirrors their reflection. Thus, giving a slightly different idea/feel to the line. It really helps drive home the idea/theory that there are multiple timelines and LG has potentially gone back and experienced a handful of them in order to bring them to the current present time. It helps the audience gauge that there's likely more information that LG knows that has been unrevealed and that the time-traveling theories are much wilder and more vast than originally imagined from Season 1. After notating the shattered reflection, the next line could be a question LG asks himself. Is it worth it to hold onto the ideals and rules when everything has shattered beyond a point he might believe to be irreparable? Is it worth it when CXS's life is on the line? How much longer should he hold onto reason while he's actively committed and continues to commit hubris in regard to their fate?

Final Thoughts:

A couple of things to note before I officially close. 1. The final "Let it unfold" feels like a call LG is making to the void/timeline. Asking for it all to show itself. To be the way it should be/he wants it to be. He's desperate to see the final outcome to the onslaught of choices and hard decisions he made to get there. 2. The line, "Over the end of the vortex we took every step to follow," really intrigued me. Looking it up, "the end of a vortex" is an actual space that exists. It's: - The phenomenon when under some conditions the vortex core deviates from the axis of the cyclone separator and attaches to the wall, where it rotates at some level above the bottom of the separator. & A flow instability that plays a crucial role in cyclone design and operation. By reading this, it's incredibly interesting to think of the fact that LG potentially believes that they've been existing and following this "experimental" space within the vortex of time. They're following this phenomenon that's still being experimented on, studied, and understood in regards to water vortexes - let alone, time-travel. It's not something that is concrete or has sound science backing it, yet, LG seems to be experimenting on his own. I believe it's interesting that this phrase was chosen potentially for this very reason. LG has likely been "experimenting" with the timeline in order to come to the end of his intended conclusion regarding CXS's life in this [time] space that is entirely unknown and untested. He's been taking them down this route and keeping them in a space that is not only unstudied but also unknown and completely unstable. Overall, I think this song really doubles down on a lot of the theories going around regarding LG and CXS, but also gives us hints and insight into information that we might not know yet as the audience. There are certain words and keyphrases used in these lyrics that really seem to tip the audience off to deeper and more profound theories that I cannot wait to see unravel in later seasons!

For those of you who made it to the end, thank you for listening to my ramblings. I love this show so much and was really excited to do a deep dive analysis on both VORTEX and Dive Back in Time! I think this show is beautifully well done and I cannot wait to see more!📸💙

& if you haven't read the Dive Back in Time Analysis and liked this one, you should check it out!

That's all for now! Thanks again for reading!😊💙

[carbon8tion]

Garshield, Kageyama, and Kidou

I feel like Kidou (Yuuto's adoptive father, who I will be refering to as "Kidou" throughout this, and Yuuto as "Yuuto" to avoid confusion.) isn't exactly a good guy. That's obvious, given his status in society and connections to Kageyama, but I never really see anyone talk about how much influence he has, and still does, on Yuuto- or what his actual goal may be, and who he's working with.

He and Kageyama are close- and that's a probelm since Kageyama had been working with Garshield ever he sabotauged the bus to disqualify Raimon 40 years before the events of the OG season. I shouldn't have to elaborate on who Garshield is, i'm sure you all know. When did the two meet, I can't help but wonder- perhaps Kidou's a Teikoku alumni, but... I think it's a bit deeper than that. I think Garshield is a far bigger threat than we thought, and has influenced the events of the plot, and the life of one of our most beloved protags- FAR more than we could ever believe, and i'll be elaborating on it here.

Kidou's father trusts Kageyama enough to let him take his son on trips around the world to see how other cultures play soccer, (this was flavor text in IE3, I cannot find a screenshot of it.) In Everyday+ both Kidou and Kageyama state that the whole reason Kidou's with Kageyama is so he can learn leadership, learn to rise to the top.

That in itself is self-explanatory, as to why Kidou's left Yuuto in Kageyama's care. Kidou put's an awful lot of trust in Kageyama, enough to where, even when Kidou transfers to Raimon and Kageyama is arrested for his crimes- he CONTINUES to sponsor him and the school in Ares, because Kageyama's methods get results. Now, Ares is a seperate timeline, but alot of the lore of Kidou Zaibatsu established in it carried over to Everyday+, such as Hakamada, and Kidou Zaibatsu owning multiple companies, so it's safe to assume everything that Kidou does in Ares, he'd also do in the original timeline.

When Yuuto asks to transfer to Raimon, Kidou allows it, because he loves Yuuto, and is proud to see him grow into someone who can forge his own path. That's a great quality in a leader, to break past the influence of another and overcome them. Despsite Kidou not being a very good person in my personal opinion, he still loves his son, and that can't be ignored. Kageyama has taught Yuuto all he can, and now it's up to Yuuto to continue honing his abilities. (And Kidou himself, and Yuuto's personal tutors.)

Kidou shows upset at having left Yuuto in Kageyama's care, having not done much to raise him on his own. There's alot that Yuuto needs to learn to be a successfull heir, he brings Yuuto to enough company functions and has him focus on his studies, hire tutors for him, and encourages growth to where he can be without Kageyama's help- but... that's the problem here.

The company functions. The parties, they go to them often. In Ares it's revealed one of Kidou Zaibatsu's companies is Kidou Heavy Industries- lots of vehicles, lots of.... gas.

Lots of... oil.

And who's s aid to be the #1 supplier of oil in the world, who just so happens to be Kageyama's employer?

Garshield.

Garshield is very interested in soccer, and had Kageyama use his experimental program on Demonio- who he turned into a copy of Yuuto. Perhaps that was just Kageyama's own influences at play and not Garshield's, but... Kidou was likely employed under Garshield as well. He needs that oil, and he plays along with Kageyama, and shows interest in soccer. Kidou, like everyone else, wants to be on top, to succeed- so he'll work with those who will help him achieve that, which is why he adopted Yuuto, because of Garshield's weird plans to take over the world with soccer. Yuuto's skills in the sport were the main reason for his adoption, after being scouted by Kageyama- it wasnt based on IQ, or behavior, or personality, or even family- it was soccer.

He even gave Yuuto an insentive to play, taking him away from the only family he had left, Haruna. He and Kageyama knew that the only thing Yuuto had to connect with his family would be soccer, if they took him seperately, so they did- that way he'd have that much more motivation to play. By the looks of it, since Yuuto never tried to contact Haruna, he may have not been ALLOWED to contact her, so that he can become more and more invested in winning, in soccer, in developing those leadership and sports skills.

With how important Kidou Zaibatsu obviously is to Kidou, and how important it will end up being to Yuuto... In GO, he's letting Yuuto play soccer in the pro leagues. You'd think Kidou would have pushed him into the family bussiness by then, with how adamant he was about it in his teens- but he's not. Because that's not the only way torwards success in this world Akihiro Hino created. Soccer has become politics now, and Yuuto's not only a big name in the soccer world, with keychains of him canonically being sold in stores, he's got his foot in the bussiness, financial, and even political world too now, with the Resistance and Kidou Zaibatsu.

There's only one person I can think of who wanted to make soccer politics, and had the money, power, influence, and people to make it happen, to have the insane idea to try and take over the world using it....

Garshield.

Garshield sowed the seeds, and even though he's not the one reaping the glory, theres still people out there carrying out his mission, because that's where all the money is, and thats where the POWER is- in soccer. Laws get changed because of soccer, children are turning into mutants because of soccer, like Garshield predicted when he started experimenting on players, he knew the potential this stupid little ball game and it's players had and wanted to capitalize on it the best he could. He isn't completely out of the picture, either- his people took Kageyama's life.

The question of who gave Kageyama's life back, however, is lost on me, but I have a theory that it may have been the man who he worked with to create his "ultimate creation".

To sum it up: Kidou Yuuto is a direct product of Garshield's vision. He has the potential to be a very, very big threat to the world. Garshield's dream of taking over the world with soccer is very tangible, and the impact of soccer can be seen in Chrono Stone and soccer being the one thing deciding the fate of the galaxy in Galaxy. The UNIVERSE is literally based on soccer, Earth was just REALLY late to the party. (But truth be told, i'm not thinking that big, i'm more concerned about how the people on earth are being affected in our original trio's lifetime.)

With that said, I think our beloved protag Kidou Yuuto ends up having alot more to do with the politicalization of soccer in his lifetime than we think, he has the money, he has the power, and he has the influence of people who didn't have very good intentions with the sport.

....Thank god he has Endou to keep him on the right path.

Victory Road is a sequel to GO, it's considered canon, I believe. We don't know any of the story yet, but if Kidou Yuuto doesn't play a part in it, i'm going to be very dissapointed.

[rodismancave]

. wanting 2 write stuff for bad ending rodimus but it scares me soooo bad

[mooooonnnzz]

holy shit world/insure made me sob. would you consider doing a part two ? i’m imagining stan and ford telling dipper and mable childhood stories with the reader. they’re vague about it, saying stuff like “they aren’t here anymore” so the twins just think read died. then reading coming back through the portal and they connect the dots. omfg i’m obsessed with this concept.

Word/Insured Part 2

Stanford Pines x Sibling!Reader/Stanley Pines x Sibling!Reader

☆ GUESS WHO FINISSHHHEDDDD!!!

☆ this'll have 2 parts so it's easier to digest, since it's lawnngg so if it abruptly ends, that's just me splitting it

☆ 4,5k words

☆ gender-neutral reader

☆ possible tw: drinking to cope, mentions of suicide, gagging and descriptive chewing? and just angst

☆ srry this lowk kinda took long to write both keyboard and mouse just died on me when i was writing this so i had to find an old keyboard oops

☆ if this does well, i'm considering on making hcs of reader adjusting back to their home dimensions and diving deep into the twins n their trauma !!

☆ that's all. i hope you all enjoy! :3

✶ Stan and Ford hadn’t talked to each other since your disappearance. The anger and hatred that Stan held onto was enough to deter him from even granting a glance at Ford who tirelessly tried to get Stan to talk to him. He’d begin the conversation with ideas he’s thought through the night prior, ideas that most likely secured a chance on bringing you back. But Stan wanted nothing to do with him. His head was shrouded with your screams, the way you yelled out for Stan instilled such a soul-crushing guilt on Stan; he wasn’t sure he’d properly function as a normal human being after this. Not to mention, you and Stan were two peas in a pod, spending 10 years together after the collapse of their family truly brought the pair together, closer than they’d ever thought they would be. And now Stan is going through the same grief he felt when he was kicked out of the house, Ford doing nothing but sparing a sorrowful glance to him as he shouted for his brother, anticipating Ford to do something; to clean his name and everything would go back to normal. But instead, he turned his back on him. The situations were massively different but the pain was eerily still the same. 

✶ Stan would spend majority of his nights clutching your belongings close to his chest. He didn’t care if it looked weird, those were the only things that he had left of you at the moment. Nights were spent crying himself to sleep, envisioning different scenarios where he had caught onto your wrist and pulled you back to the ground, where it was safe, where he was there to protect you. He couldn’t let his mind linger on the idea of you being stranded in another dimension, helpless and lost, not knowing what to do or where to go. The mere thought of it sends his heart crumbling down to his palms, all shredded and shattered beyond repair. He was your big brother, he was supposed to protect you. To keep you safe from harm's way, he betrayed that very promise by leading you to the place where you were taken away from him too soon. And that alone gutted him. Ford would hear Stan sobbing into the night and all he did was lay there in his bed, submitting himself to the torture to hear his brother’s wretched cries. Because, this was his fault. Stan wasn’t shy to tell him that almost every waking moment of the day when he has the chance. The guilt haunts him.

✶ Verbal arguments were pretty common between the pair. Stan mainly started them when he was pulled out of the haze he was in and roughly back to reality. A reality where you weren’t around anymore and that irked him, because who else was at fault other than his idiotic brother? “Do you ever wonder how more lively this house would have been if ya hadn’t pushed [Name] inside the portal?” His tone was harsh. They carried thick venom to them, his words permanently burning their way into Ford’s brain. “Not this again,” Ford’s heart quivered. He had just recollected himself from yesterday's fight and now Stan wants to barrel through another one? Ford avoided Stan’s glaring eye contact. “Stanley, I told you many times before. I’m sorry! I’m sorry for screwing up, I’m sorry for being the reason why [Name] isn’t here anymore.” Ford’s head tilted back, his eyes staring longingly at the ceiling. “You don’t know how much this eats at me, Stanley.” He blinks away the tears threatening to escape, his head lowering back down to meet Stan’s fiery stare. “But I beg of you, please. Don’t hate me for it. I can’t lose you again, not after losing [Name].” The look in Ford’s eyes was something Stan would never be able to forget, no matter how hard he tried. He looked so broken, so shattered, the shell of someone who once was a prodigy at everything he touched was now crushed to bits; pieces of him scattered, lost to time. Stanley’s anger faded into a mellow irritation. Shifting his hands awkwardly on his chest, his face softened ever so slightly. “Fine,” He grumbled, rushing past Ford, their shoulders roughly rocking against each other. Ford sniffed, wiping the tears off his face. This was a new development. A spark of hope flickered in Ford. 

✶ Alcohol and cigars were Stan’s life vest. He’d rob a few packs of beer and down them within two days. It wasn’t healthy, but at least it distracted him from everything that was happening, right? Stan was pretty much drunk every day, and if he wasn’t, he was out on the porch smoking cigars, hoping that one day Ford would find him dead on the floor with beer cans surrounding him, his last moments spent thinking about how much he missed you. Stan wasn’t an angry drunk much to Ford’s surprise, considering how he spent his times where he was sober yelling at Ford, rather he’d rot away on the couch or floor, silently crying to himself in a puddle of his own tears. Many times Ford would have to pick up Stan, rest him on the couch and try to sober him up. And it wasn’t an easy task to do, picking up Stan with his weak arms was a workout for Ford. “Why couldn’t I save them?” Stank drunkenly babbled out, his head swaying side to side. “Don’t move too much, Stanley. You’ll give yourself a headache.” Ford warned, propping his head up with a pillow. “If I wasn’t so slow, [Name] would still be here.” Stan hiccups, his eyes glistening with tears. No matter how many times Ford hears Stan painfully talking about you, it still hurts the same and even more. “It’s not your fault, Stan.” Ford said, pulling a blanket up to his chest. “It’s not yours either.” Stan’s hand patted Ford on his face, thinking that it was his head. When Stan pulled his hands away, tears were streaking down Ford’s cheek. Hearing Stan tell him that it wasn’t his fault healed a piece of him and that quickly triggered the waterworks. “There, there, brother.” Stan patted Ford’s back as he sobbed into his hands. “It’s not my fault,” He repeated in loud sobs. “It’s not your fault.” Stan echoes. 

✶ Ford handled his grief and stress by huddling himself in the lab, isolating himself from Stan’s drunken state and researching his work. Trying to find loopholes that he can tie them close with a workaround, with a quick fix that would bring you back. Cans of beer were discarded around his lab, just the same as upstairs. But he wasn’t downing beers like Stan, he chugged one or two to dull out the ache in his heart, to keep it from distracting him. He knew when to stop and limit himself. He wasn’t dependent on alcohol. Sleep was something Ford considered useless. That would only distract him from his work, from his progress. Stan walked into the lab, puffing a gray smoke of air out onto the air. Your absence has bestowed so much despair onto the pair and he hadn’t realized until this very moment. Walking over to Ford, he placed a hand on his back. He was messily sleeping on top of his work, glasses hanging off his face, mouth open, drool dribbling down to his arms and paper. His dark circles were so dark and he was unshaven, chin stubbly with hair. Has he been getting any sleep? He wouldn’t know because he’s always drinking the day away. Stan internally groaned at himself. Not only has been neglecting himself, he’s been neglecting his brother. Burning out the cigar, he grabbed a blanket from upstairs and draped it over Ford. “Sleep tight, Stanford.” He said, gingerly squeezing his arm. Stan sat right next to him, wanting to keep him company and dozed off. When morning came, Ford awoke to Stan’s head colliding with his chair. For that one morning, Stan’s snores were music to his ears. 

✶ “S-Stanley!” Ford’s body lunges up from the couch when he sees Stan briskly pass by him and into the kitchen. “I-I’ve done some research and I-I think I found a way to get [Name] back!” He stumbles over his words, the lack of sleep weighing heavily on his foggy brain. The only thing that is keeping him up as of now is coffee he had been taking in shots for the past few days. The way he moves is fidgety and erratically and Stan takes notice of that. Pouring a cup of coffee for himself in a mug, he leans his back against the counter. “You need sleep, Stanford.” He brings the rim of the mug to his lips, his eyes never leaving Ford’s trembling figure as he takes a big gulp from his coffee. Ford couldn’t believe what he had just heard. Stan spoke to him! It was measly four words, but that’s more than he has ever said in the past five months, that wasn’t angry nonsensical words that were being thrown at him or depressing drunken babbling. “No, there’s so much to be done.” Ford runs a hand through his unkempt hair. “You need to hear me out. We need to find the other two–” Stan shushes him. “I won’t talk to you until ya sleep, Stanford. Don’t you bother trying to back out from this.” He looks at Ford with a stern expression, almost the same one Mom wore whenever he warned Ford to not do anything stupid in the backyard with Stan. “B-But!” Stan doesn’t hear his weak objections, he’s already out of the kitchen before Ford can conjure a good enough excuse. With a groan, Ford trips over his own feet while he makes his way back to the couch. Pushing all his research and books off the couch and onto the floor, he topples over the couch. When his head crashes on the soft plush of his sofa, his body automatically shuts off, revealing how dangerously tired he was. His eyes fluttered close and it didn’t take long for him to crash out on the couch. Stan came in to check on Ford and was pleasantly pleased to see his twin at last getting the rest he deserved. 

✶ Clinking his fork idly on the ceramic plate, Stan watched Ford make breakfast. Originally Stan was going to prepare breakfast, but Ford saw he was cooking and pushed him out of the kitchen, telling him that it was “his treat,” Stan couldn’t even utter a single word to him. He just wanted simple scrambled eggs and toast and now he’s left to fear for his life as Ford concocts a science experiment for his breakfast. “And for you breakfast, Stanley.” Ford swoops in, leaning forward as he shuffles the plate of food onto the table. “Scrambled eggs and buttered toast,” Ford smiles knowingly, placing his breakfast down. He had the same breakfast but the crust of his toast was cut off. “I don’t even know why I doubted you.” Stan scoops up the scrambled eggs with his fork and shoves it in his mouth with giddy excitement, a display of emotions Ford hadn’t seen in over 10 years. Who knew a simple breakfast would get him so happy? “Still being a baby about the crust?” He points to Ford’s crustless buttered toast with his fork, mouth muffled with food still being chewed in his mouth. Ford cringes at the sight of mashed up food in Stan’s mouth, suppressing a gag as he nods his head. “Chew your food before talking, Stanley! We’re not kids anymore.” He rasps out, his palm covering his mouth, his body shuddering with full body heaves. “Alright, alright!” With a loud gulp, he swallows his scrambled eggs. “Happy now?” Said Stan with a roll of his eyes. “Maybe not,” Using his other hand, Ford pushes the plate of eggs away. “Don’t want to eat anymore,” Stan shrugs, pouring the scrambled eggs on the plate. “More for me!” As Stan is chowing down on his eggs, Ford regains his composure. Though, he couldn’t watch Stan eat his eggs without the image of the yellow goopy food in his mouth so he averted his gaze to his hands. 

✶ “[Name] sure had grown up the last time I saw them.” This was Ford’s feeble attempt at sprouting a conversation with Stan, but he soon regretted what he said when he realized the fragility of the topic. Stan blinks, stunned. A beat passes and Ford’s ready to divert the conversation to another topic when Stan replies with a weird look on his face Ford can’t quite catch. “Well, yeah,” Stan looks off to the side. Ford lets out a breath of relief, Stan wasn’t upset at the mention of you. “They left with me when you and Dad kicked me out and we haven’t seen each other since then.” There’s a distant look in his eyes when he speaks, his words carrying a light anger to them ever so slightly. “How were th–” Stan shoots up, the chair skidding behind him. “Just because we’re all chummy now doesn’t mean you get to ask all about [Name].” The sudden shift in his emotions slapped Ford right in his face. “I’m sorry.” Ford whispers. Stan clicks his tongue, uttering to himself before shaking his head. “No, I’m sorry.” Stan rubs the sides of his head with his fingers. “Let’s not talk about them right now, okay? I don’t think I’m ready yet.” Stan pulls the chair to him and sits down. He rests his head on his fist, eyebrows pinched together with a long frown on his face. “I didn’t mean to blow up on ya like that.” Stan looks Ford in the eyes, and he could see the sincere sadness swimming in his eyes. “It’s okay, Stanley. Why don’t we talk about what you do for a living?” With that, they eased themselves into a comfortable conversation, with a few hiccups here and there, but in the end, the twins both had a soft smile adoring their faces.

✶ The repairing of the portal was a stepping stone that repaired Ford’s and Stan’s relationship. They weren’t going to lie and say that their relationship now was perfect, they still had their moments of anger and differences, but with a lot and a lot of patience, their bond was soon regaining its spark. “Whaddya think, poindexter?” Stan slapped a sloppily written plan on how to fix the portal in front of Ford. “What is this?” Ford looked at the piece of paper like it was garbage. “A plan to fix the portal, isn’t it obvious?” Stan snatched his paper back up, eyes speedily reading his work, doubting his work. “Stanley, that is unnecessary. I have the blueprints to fix the portal.” Discarding his plan, he slapped his hands enthusiastically, rubbing them together. “Alright! So where are they?” Ford sucks in a breath. “In the other journals.” Stan nodded his head slowly, as if that information was already obvious. “And where are the other journals?” Ford coughs into his fist, speedily saying; “I hid them.” Stan looks at him weirdly. “Can’t we just unhide them?” Ford rubs a hand up against his prickly cheek. “That’s the thing. I may or may not remember where I hid them.” Closing his eyes, he braced for the gust of angry yelling. “you WHAT?!” Stan’s hands flew to the side of his head. “How do you forget where you put them?!” Stan made a mental note to mark down how many times Ford screwed up, so far he has two. He has a long way to go before he could be anywhere near Stan’s record. “I was in a flurry of panic! I wasn’t thinking straight.” Stan groaned, smacking his face with his hand. “Was it at least in Gravity Falls?” Stan had his fingers crossed. “Yes, obviously.” A triumph “Yes!” leaves Stan. “Okay, let’s get digging then!” 

✶ Stan severely underestimated how truly difficult it would be finding one of the books in a forest that seemed like it stretched out for miles. Every turn looks the same and whenever he’d think he’s making progress, he’s right back where he started, at least he thinks he is. Frustrated, he bangs his head on a tree. The sound of metal clanging rang in his ears and shook through the tree. He groaned, holding his head with one hand as he curiously examined the possible metal tree. “Stanley!” Ford came running to Stan’s side, panting heavily. He wasn’t used to running for more than 5 seconds, and that was evidently proven with his flushed face and out of breath wheezes. “This tree is metal,” Stan notes, taking a few steps back, winding his leg back and hammering his shoe into the tree. The tree simply shook, the metal sound nowhere to be heard. “What?” Stan can feel his brain heating up, he couldn’t make any sense of this. The tree he kicked felt like a tree, not some metal contraption. It was only when he knocked his head—An idea springs to mind. Leaning his head back, he slammed his head on the tree. Shocked noises sputter out of Ford as he watches Stan rub the sore spot in his head. “There’s something here,” He gestures to the general area where he smashed his head in. “I can see that!” Ford walks up to the tree, knuckles gently knocking on the metal plate that was disguised as a tree. His hands move around the tree, searching for a way to open the plate. His fingers snag on an elevated piece of tree and with his fingertips, he swings it open, revealing a control panel. The memories of constructing this rush to his mind. “I remember now!” He flips a switch, his head turning over to where the large log rested. In front of it, a patch of grass was pulled back to unravel the hidden place where book three was. Ford eagerly snatched the book in his hands, showcasing it to Stan. “Great job, Stanford!” He claps Ford’s back. “So where’s the other one, you remember?” Unfortunately for the both of them, Ford doesn’t remember. He had seemed to bury most of his memories after meeting Bill Cipher, anything beyond that point was an empty mess for him.

✶ With the two books in hand, they managed to tinker and repair the damage to their best efforts. After each exhausting night in the lab, he’d attempt to pull the lever in hopes that whatever they did that day would work and to their utter disappointment, it never dislodge from its spot. “Man,” Stan wipes his forehead with his forearm, sweat glistening on his arm. “For a brainiac like you, I would’ve never imagined you being terrible at building this!” Stan barked with a laugh. Ford scoffed, his attention laser focused on fixing a part of the machine. “How did you manage to build the portal in the first place?” Stan wondered, the flashlight he was using to help Ford see what he was doing began to steer away. “Stanley,” Ford snapped. “The light!” Stan jolted up in surprise, the light quickly going back to Ford. “Sorry,” He sheepishly said. “But seriously, how did you build this?” He looked at Ford curiously. “I had an assistant.” Ford mumbled, a leak of oil dotting his clothes. He hissed, grabbing a tool off the ground to fix whatever started leaking. “Had? What happened?” Ford hummed happily. He had fixed the leak. Placing the tool back down to the floor, he directed his attention to Stan. “He quit.” Ford scratched his head, unintentionally smearing oil on his cheek with his hand. “Why?” Stan tossed him a piece of clean cloth, silently motioning to his cheek. Ford took it, wiping his cheek with the cloth. “He, uh,” If Ford told Stan that he went inside the portal momentarily and came out completely traumatized, Stan would go berserk on him knowing that you went inside the exact portal that mentally ruined Fiddleford. Ford did not want to go back to the arguing and suffocating silence so he lied. “He just thought what I was doing was unethical.” That wasn’t a complete and total lie, but it was far from the truth. Stan bought the lie fortunately for Ford. “Glad at least someone had the brain to call a quits!” 

✶ Before they knew it, they were tremendously low on money. Stan was the unfortunate one to discover this revelation. On a quick supply run, Stan had gone to the grocery store and stock up on some food. When the cashier rang up him, totaling his price to 30 dollars, Stan had pulled out a penny, paper clip and a wrapper. Mentally cursing Ford for spending all his money on unnecessary science stuff, he weakly smiled at the cashier. “Can you hold onto my groceries for a quick second?” The cashier nodded their, a big bright smile on their face. “Of course, stranger!” And right when Stan was going to snag the groceries bags in his hurried rush, a woman spoke from behind him. “Hey, that’s no stranger! That must be the mysterious science guy in the woods!” She points, gathering a crowd around Stan. “Ah, no. That’s my nerdy twin brother.” Stan says, causing the crowd to coo in interest. “There’s two of them?” Someone in the crowd asked. “He probably cloned himself just so he could do two things at once!” Someone else said. “That’s probably what happened. I’ve heard strange stories about that old shack.” Toby Determined spoke up. “Yeah! Mysterious lights and spooky experiments!” Daryl added. “Gosh, I’d pay anything to see what kind of shenanigans you get up in there!” Pa said. Susan perked up at that. “Oh, me too! Do you ever give tours?” 

✶ A sly smirked pulled to Stan’s face. He had the perfect idea. “Yes, I do give tours! Ten…no-no fifteen bucks a person!” The crowd erupts in cheers, waving their green bills around. “Is it possible we get to see the man of mystery himself?” Susan questions. “Hmm, I’m not sure.” Stan eluded them to think that there was no possible way to get to Ford to gauge their reactions. And what they gave him sent adrenaline rushing through his veins. “You know what?” The crowd lightens up with hope. “Fifty bucks if you all want to see the man of mystery himself!” Another boisterous cheer from the crowd. “And what did you say your name was, twin of mister mystery?” Stan smiled proudly. “Stanley, Stanley Pines.”

✶ The crowd bustles into the shack, ooo’s and aaa’a left their mouths in awe of the place. “Step right up folks to a world of,” he pauses for a moment thinking. “A world of enchantment!” He gestures to all the wild findings. Grabbing a dial box with two antennae, he showcases it to the crowd. “Behold! The um, nerdy science box.” Susan looked at it with interest. The device rumbled to life and zapped her in the eye, rendering it closed. “Ah, my eye!” She covers her closed eye, stumbling back. “Uh, I can assure you, that is no way permanent!” He offers an uneasy smile. “I paid sixty five dollars for this!?” With Susan’s comment, the whole crowd erupted in complaints. Quickly thinking, he grabs a skeleton and makes a half-assed joke where the last customers didn’t make it out alive. The crowd laughs at his horrible joke and Stan smiles. “What is with all this ruckus?” Ford walks in, irritation evident on his face. “Is that him?” Someone excitedly shrieks from the crowd. “Oh my god, it is! Take my money!” Wads of dollar bills get thrown at Stan who was making a great effort to make sure he caught all of them. “Stanley, what did you do!”

✶ After answering a few questions he was coaxed into, (they stroked his ego), he kicked them out, accidentally saying that they could return another time before closing the door, smacking himself in the head. “What was that?” Stan turned over to Ford,  buckets of money shoved inside into his shirt. “I got us money! And look how much we got!” He pulls a ten dollar bill from his stack in his shirt. “Stanford, this the best thing that’s ever happened to us so far.” Ford looks at him, unsure. “I’m not a fan of ripping people off,” Stan’s hands fall to his sides. “It’s their choice to throw money at me like a madman. Listen, if we get more money, we can stock up on good materials to fix the portal, like really good parts and we can finally bring [Name] back.” Ford stewed in his thoughts for a little more. He hated to admit, but Stan was right. With a little more money, they could be sailing straight to victory with a higher chance of your return. Ford let out a defeated sigh. “Fine, but I don’t want you to mess with my stuff, got it?” Stan beamed brightly. “I promise!” He broke that later on. 

✶ Gradually, the scary shed in the woods turned into a tourist spot people would frequent. Together, they advertised the shack by plastering various signs and posters all over the woods. They even went as far to tape advertisements onto people’s windows. Ford wanted to use actual beasts he had found in the woods to show to people, but in the end they all ran away, horrified for their lives. Ford was respectfully peeved because when he’d glance over to Stan, he had somehow had the crowd hanging on to every word that spilled out of his mouth. And when he’d show the crudely sewed animal he had made within five minutes before the tour started, they all gasped in delight, their money flying to him. “How do you do it?” Ford asks as Stan closes the door, reveling in the pool of money he had made. “I just say whatever comes to mind.” Stan shrugs. “But none of your stories make any sense logically! How did they believe in a half beaver half bat?” He gestures to the taxidermy animal. The beady eyes were slowly sliding off its face, leaving a trail of glue. “Hey, the people love to spend their money on things that are obviously fake, weirdly enough.” The door rattles with a knock. “Wanna take this next crowd? I gotta sort this money.” Against his will, not really, Ford opens the door and flashes an award winning smile he had learned from Stan. Cash was already being shoved in his face. At least he earns money for looking good. Ford attempted Stan’s whole shtick and to his very surprise it worked! It wasn’t as good as Stan’s performance, but it worked well enough that people were swarming him with cash. His bitterness from before was quickly washed over and he continued on his act. When the crowd dispersed, satisfied with their tour. Stan was there in the middle, clapping widely. “That was some good acting there, Ford!” Ford smiled, waving him off. “Yeah, yeah. I’m only doing this cause we need the money.” 

Taglist: @boredwithlifeatthispoint, @lovexsage, @teddycricketdream, @theilluminatidragonqueen, @raventeen @cedarmoonzz if you wanna be added to my taglist, dm me or comment! <3

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[fairysluna]

Hi! Could I please request another threesome with Cregan, reader and Jace. Maybe they get jealous when they see reader with another men and want to teach her a lesson? Thank you and love your blog!

i get drunk on jealousy.

Modern!AU — After they've ignored you for a week, you were desperate to have their attention back. Flirting with a random guy might not be the best idea.

MASTERLIST

PAIRING — Cregan Stark x Fem!Reader x Jacaerys Velaryon.

TAGS — polyrelationship/polyamorous, m/m/f, smut (p in v, clit play, handjob, oral sex, creampie, spitting, cum eating, male on male action), jace x cregan, use of alcohol and drugs, kind of drunk sex, dom!cregan, switch!jace, sub!reader, jealousy, cursing. If something is missing let me know!!

AUTHOR'S NOTE — Don't expect so much of this fic, I saw this picture, I saw a vision, and basically my horniness wrote this by itself. Not my best work, but fuck it, this is just for fun. Also, this made me realize that I'm unable to write dom!Jace if Cregan is there too, oops??? I guess??? NO BETA, WE DIE LIKE MEN.

I took this request as an excuse to write this fic so... thank you for sending it and hope you enjoy this!🤍

WORD COUNT — 3.1k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤenglish is not my first language.

Most people on Campus knew about your strange relationship with Cregan and Jacaerys. Some guys would often call you a whore behind your back, while some girls would prefer the term ‘lucky bitch’; it was no secret that the both of them were quite known for being handsome and gallant, almost acting like real life prince-charmings. Every girl would drool for them, acknowledging their chivalry and politeness. Of course, they already knew about the attention that they received from the opposite sex, they knew about how many girls would love to be in your position. Which is why they didn't understand why you were so eager to act like a brat.

Jace tapped Cregan's shoulder as he saw you chatting with some random guy that suddenly appeared next to you on the couch. Neither of them had seen him before, he was probably a freshman or someone that sneaked into the party without invitation. Both pairs of eyes were intently staring at you, watching every move you make. They knew you weren't oblivious enough to not see it; he was obviously flirting with you, and you were clearly enjoying every moment of it. Jacaerys, being the most jealous out of the three of you, tightened his grip around his bottle of beer, his fingertips turning white as Cregan turned to look at him.

“Don't do anything stupid,” he warned him. “She'll deal with us later.”

“But look at her!” Jace snapped, his breathing ragged.

“She's doing it to piss us off,” Cregan attempted to calm him down. “She won't do anything with that guy. Just wait until the party's over and we'll take care of it, okay?”

He looked at him, obediently nodding as he took a long sil out of his beer to calm down a bit. Jace forbade himself to turn your way, ignoring your desperate attempt to make them jealous. Cregan, being a lot less hotheaded than Jace, acted nonchalantly toward your attitude, pretending you were doing nothing wrong, even when he wanted to grab your arm and take you right in that couch just to clarify that you belong to them.

Cregan knew your purpose, you both had spoken about it earlier that day after one of your classes together. They both have been ignoring you, neglecting your needs and spending more time alone — without you. At first you didn't mind it, thinking that they were busy with the final exams and their final projects of the semester; however, when you knew they were using all that time to plan this stupid party you got pissed, almost screaming at him in the middle of the campus, frustrated. Now here you were, sitting with a freshman trying to get in your pants, all while they were still ignoring you.

Both guys spent the rest of the night drinking, playing some games with other members of the fraternity and having a blast while you were standing in a corner, alone and bored; your two lovers out of your sight. Perhaps that was why you couldn't see Jace searching for you everytime he could, unable to control the jealousy that had grown within him. He couldn't find you anywhere around, which made his mind overthink about where you were, and with whom. Cregan would try to calm him down, offering him his blunt which Jace would accept in order to relax.

Hours passed, it was 4am when the music stopped and everyone passed out in random parts of the fraternity house. Cregan and Jace were stumbling their way up to their dorm, the effects of the alcohol still lingering in their bodies as they struggled to reach for their room. They both were holding onto each other until they opened the door and saw you standing in front of the mirror, wiping off your make up and getting ready to sleep. They noticed you had moved their beds together, making a bigger one as you usually do whenever you stayed with them.

They entered the room in silence, and while Cregan was closing the door and turning the lock, Jace stood closer to you almost drooling once he saw you were wearing one of his shirts. He wrapped his arms around your waist and hid his face on the crock of your neck, leaving wet kisses all over your skin and completely forgetting about the fact that he was supposed to be ignoring you.

“You're so fucking weak, Jace,” Cregan scolded him, removing his shoes and shirt, getting ready to bed.

You turned to look at the eldest guy, who just ignored your intense gaze.

“You're mad?” you dared to ask.

“We both are, actually,” Jacaerys murmured against your skin.

“And why would you be mad? I should be the angry one!”

“Oh, really?” Cregan finally turned, stepping closer to you. “Why is that?”

“You know why! We talked about this and you decided to keep ignoring me!”

Stark laughed dryly, his gray eyes getting darker as he narrowed them. “Is that why you've been acting like a fucking whore tonight? Trying to get into a freshman's pants to get our attention. Fucking pathetic.” He took a step close enough to grab your jaw and force you to look at him. You tried to squirm away from him, but Jace's arms tightened their grip around your body, and you had no escape. “Jace couldn't even enjoy the fucking party because he thought you were sucking another guy's cock. You think that's fair? To make him feel like shit the entire night because you were just needy of attention?”

“I- I didn't-”

“You broke my heart tonight, sweetheart,” Jace whispered in your ear as his fingers reached the hem of your shirt. “You need to pay for what you've done…”

“I'm- I'm sorry, I never meant to-”

“It seems like you need a lesson,” Cregan interrupted you, tightening his grip on your face and making you whine. “Something to remind you that you belong to us.”

Jacaerys' hand cupping your core with one of his hands, burying his fingers between your folds and covering them with your growing slick. He giggled, “she's not wearing panties…” he informed, smiling up at Cregan who clenched his jaw.

“Get her on her knees,” he commanded, and the youngest obeyed immediately, letting you go from his firm grip.

You fell to your knees, scratching them with the raspy carpet beneath you. Jace removed his shirt as Cregan started to unbutton his pants until they pooled around his ankles along with his underwear. You whimpered once you saw his cock starting to get hard under your haze, your mouth watering as you leaned towards his side.

“Get on the bed,” he pointed at Jace. You tried to stand up and follow the instructions too, yet he stopped you by gripping the front of your head and pulling it back. “Not you,” he sternly said. “Open up.”

Obediently, you did as you were told, opening your mouth and letting him press his tip on your tongue. He gave it a few taps, teasing before ge finally decided to start fucking your mouth. Cregan grabbed the sides of your head to keep you still in your position, and his hips started to snap against your throat without further warning. You found stability when you placed your cold hands on his thighs, grasping onto them so you wouldn't lose balance as he had no mercy with you.

You looked up teary eyed, gagging and gulping loudly as you heard his moans slipping out of his plump lips. The small eye contact suddenly became too much for him, so he leaned his head back as he closed his eyes. “Such a delicious mouth,” he praised you, “taking my cock so fucking well.”

His grip around your head started to hurt a bit, his fingertips burying in you as he fastened his pace. It wasn't hard for you to become a mess; your own drool was falling down the corners of your lips as you cried out, your whines being muffled by him inside your mouth, and your slick already starting to leak out of you. Your arousal only grew once he buried himself completely in your mouth, grabbed the back of your head and forced you to stay there for a few seconds, with his length fully sheathed in your throat. Your nose brushed against his pelvis as the air started to escape from your lungs.

“Come on now, baby,” he murmured with a strained voice, feeling his cock pulsing inside your mouth. “Take it… take it all…”

He chuckled softly as you started to tap on his thigh, and he quickly let you go. You gasped once he pulled out of your mouth, gasping for the air your lungs desperately needed. He moaned softly once he saw you; tears on your face, drool falling down your swollen lips — you looked so pretty he even thought about letting you go unpunished and just please you, but then he turned to see Jace; his cock was achingly hard, his ruddy tip leaking as he desperately fucked his fist; he had been so good to you, and you made him feel so bad throughout the night; he deserved a reward, and you deserved a punishment.

Before you could react, Cregan grabbed your body with ease, lifting you up from the ground and carelessly carrying you towards the bed. You moaned with his touch, so needy of him that even his roughness made you squirm out of pleasure. He moved your body around as if you were a ragdoll, shifting your position in bed until you were sitting on top of Jace's pelvis, his cock right between your legs. For a second you thought it was finally the time for them to fuck you, but you were so wrong.

“Grab her hips,” he commanded, using that mandatory tone that drove you and Jace insane. “Don't let her move.”

He positioned himself between the boy's legs, leaving you more confused than before. “What- what are you-?”

“I'm teaching you a lesson,” he stopped you before you could finish your question. “You'll see what happens when you behave and when you don't.”

You saw him leaning down, his plump lips wrapping the tip of Jace's cock and making him squirm beneath your body. Your mouth dropped as you looked at Cregan taking him entirely, his haze fixed in you as the frustration in your body grew even more. The youngest had his nails buried in the flesh of your hips, you heard him moan so prettily that you could even feel the slick oozing out of you, even when you were untouched. It was such a sinful image to witness, especially when Cregan's eyes became teary once he gagged around Jace.

“Oh, fuck…” you mumbled, tears of despair gathering in your eyes as your breathing became ragged. “P-please touch me…”

Jace's hand attempted to reach for your throbbing clit, but the older grabbed his hand and pushed it away. “I'll stop if you touch her,” he warned him. All you could do was cry out.

Cregan's ragged breathing would reach your folds, causing shivers all over your spine. You would try to move your hips to at least rub yourself against Jace's skin, but he didn't allow it, holding you down so tightly that you were certain it would leave a bruise.

The moans turned into whines as Jace started to quickly feel the orgasm coming. His skin was burning as Cregan fervently sucked on his tip, using his tongue to clean up the precum spilling from his slit. Whenever you would cry out or move on top of him he would feel closer to the edge, his body burning inside. “I'm so fucking close, baby,” he whimpered, “keep sucking my cock, I'm- I'm gonna fucking cum… f-fuuck.”

You saw Cregan hollowing his cheeks, milking Jace dry as he came inside his mouth. Drops of the pearly seed escaped from his lips and you felt the need to lick them both clean. You needed a taste, anything that would make you feel some kind of relief.

He sat back up, and as soon as he laid his hazy eyes on you, he grabbed your neck pulling you closer towards him. As if it was a reflex, you opened your mouth while you stared at him through your glossy eyes. He let his spit fall onto your mouth, to then pull you close and fervently kiss you. The salty taste of Jace's release lingered in your mouths as you devoured each other, you would whine against his lips, still sobbing as your pussy was already aching for the lack of attention.

That's when the boy beneath you wrapped you between his arms, forcing you to lay on top of his chest. He didn't even let you catch a break before you felt his cock slowly making his way inside of you, and you gasped out of relief. He stretched you out, providing you with that sweet sting of pain that drove you insane. His hands grabbed your thighs, folding you in half as he started to thrust upwards.

“Don't ever forget who you belong to,” he grunted against your ear as you struggled to keep it quiet. Probably the whole house knew what you were doing, and maybe that was their purpose all along. “You're fucking ours, baby. This tight pussy belongs to us, do you hear me?”

Cregan's hand fell hard on your throbbing clit as you remained silent. A whine left your lips as Jace kept bullying your gummy, wet walls with his girth.

“Answer him,” he demanded, getting closer to you and placing his leaking cock on top of your swollen pearl. You felt the room spinning.

“Yes! Yes! I'm- fuck… I'm fucking yours,” you sobbed.

The whole situation became overwhelming, while one was burying himself in the deepest part of you, the other was rubbing himself on your sensitive flesh, searching for his own release as he wrapped his hand around your throat.

“Fuck, you're fucking squeezing me so tight, baby,” Jace moaned, breathlessly as he felt the mixture of your slick falling down his sack. The lewd sounds of your folds getting stretched by his thickness almost making him cum again. “So fuckin delicious…”

“We've just started and we already fucked her silly,” Cregan chuckled. “She's a fucking mess for us…”

A layer of sweat covered your body; you felt the blood burning inside your veins, the orgasm approaching you embarrassingly fast as they were stimulating your senses. Your eyes rolled back, the desperate pleads slipping out of your lips as you were begging them to make you cum. You were shaking, your face covered in tears as the moans were ripped out of your throat.

“So loud,” the older teased you, “gonna wake up the whole fucking house…”

“I- I need to… please, I need to cum!”

Cregan leaned towards you, and Jace instinctively fastened his pace, burying himself deeper and harder; you had a hard time thinking straight as the older’s hands tightened around your neck. “Ow, poor girl, wants to cum. I don't think you deserve it.”

“P-please, Cregan…”

“Work for it,” he demanded. “Make Jace cum and then you're free to do it too.”

Almost as if it was an instinct, you started to move your hips up and down Jace's cock, making the thrusts more intense and deeper. The younger moaned loudly, already feeling overstimulated by your movements and feeling his sack heavy with a new load of his release. He thought about how pretty you would look with your legs spreaded and his seed falling from your weeping hole; that image alone almost made him peak right in the spot.

“Jacey, please!” you whined, already growing tired. “Please, please, cum in me!”

“Want me to fill your pretty cunny, baby? Mhm? Want my cum inside of you?” he teased, and you rolled your eyes as your walls clenched with his filthy words.

“Yes… yes, please… give it to me, please…”

As a spectator, Cregan groaned loudly, quickly rubbing his hands around his shaft with his eyes fixed in the way Jace was filling you up, bewitched by that bulge in your belly that grew each time that he would bury himself deep inside of you, touching your sweet spot over and over until your head feel dizzy and all that left your mouth were incoherent mumbling.

“I can't… I can't hold it…” you sobbed.

“Come on, baby, I'm so fucking close, just wait for me,” Jace whimpered, his movements getting more desperate and sloppier.

“I can't! I can't! F-fuck…”

Everything came to a breaking point once your release gushed out of you, spurring all over them and making a complete mess. Neither of them could hold back after such an obscene view in front of them, and they were quick to follow. Jacaerys finally spilled himself in you, his seed painting your walls and filling you to the brim. Lastly, Cregan stained your shirt and flesh with his pearly drops, moaning so beautifully that it made you feel butterflies in your belly.

You hissed when Jace pulled out of you, feeling your legs shake while Cregan struggled to stand up from the bed and looking for something to clean you up while you laid against the younger’s body, who softly wiped the tears out of your face.

“Shh… it's okay, you did so good for us, my love,” he cooes, so gently. “So, so good.”

“I'm- I'm sorry,” you mumbled while Cregan returned to your side with a towel in his hand. With soft brushes he started to clean your thighs, your belly and the raw flesh between your legs. “I- I never meant to make you two feel bad… I was- I was being so selfish-”

“Hey,” Cregan stopped you, holding your face with gentleness; so different from his previous touch. “It's already behind us, okay?”

Once he finished cleaning you up, your body fell into Jace's embrace as he wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you closer to him and cuddling with you. He hid his face on the crook of your neck and softly hummed when the remains of your sweet perfume reached his nose.

“We love you so much,” he whispered, “please, don't ever do that to us again…”

You grabbed your face only to see his puppy, brown eyes. A gentle, soft kiss was shared as you felt Cregan laying down behind you and fondling your body, soon you three had your limbs tangled as you kissed and caressed each other without shame. Loving touches that relaxed all of you.

“I'm sorry,” you whispered again to the both of them. “I'll never do that again.”

“Do you promise?” Cregan asked.

“I promise,” you softly nodded.

The Northern boy leaned to leave a soft kiss on your cheek, you both shared a gentle smile which let you know that the anger that was once within him was now fully gone.

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[asumofwords]

Unsought Betrothal - Part 2 - Part One Here

Dark!Aemond x Reader Velaryon x Cregan Stark

Summary: After attempting to humilate your betrothed by laying with Lord Cregan Stark the night before your wedding in the hopes that Aemond would call the wedding off, you find that not only is he determined to still wed you, but also to punish you for your indiscretions. Part One Here

Pairings: Dark!Aemond x Reader, Cregan x Reader, Cregan x Aemond

Warnings: Arranged marriage, threats of violence, acts of violence, forced voyeurism, dubcon, elements of noncon, naked reader, clothed men, fingering, finger fucking, pussy slapping, p in v sex, creampie, pussy eating, cum eating, degradation, praise, voyeur.

Word Count: 13k oops... sorry

Notes: Wow, whelp, its been a while since I have posted some of my writing, and even longer since I wrote the first part of this abomination, but when you get the urge, you just gotta scratch it. Thank you all for all your beautiful messages of kindness as usual, I'm sorry I've been gone a while. I have had a bit of a rough time this year but hopes for a brighter future! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this, and I hope I can write again very soon for you, hehe ;) Enjoy! <3

The wedding came just as it was planned. Just as it was arranged. Sleep had evaded you, anger and confusion clouding your mind with memories of the night before, ache still throbbing between your thighs. Your little attempt at stopping the engagement had no affect on your betrothed. No affect on the uncle you had grown up with. On the man you would now call husband. 

You had thought that if you could humiliate Aemond in court by flirting with Lord Cregan Stark that he would call off the engagement. That the embarrassment would be too much for the pious prince. That the shame would turn him away from you, making him demand to his mother that they call off the engagement. 

You had thought that maybe if you lost your maidenhead to the Northerner, Aemond would be so disgusted, so filled with rage, that he would call the engagement off, what with him being a dedicated follower of the Seven. 

But you were wrong.

And so you spent an evening limping back into the Keep, escorted by none other than the One-eyed Prince himself and Ser Crispin. The front of your bodice had been ripped by Aemond's hands, but thankfully your hooded cloak covered up your sullied gown, the bottom of it dirtied with mud from where Aemond had bent you over in the alleyway and taken you roughly. With each step you took, you felt his seed slide down your legs, sticking to your inner thighs tackily. 

When you got to your chambers, you used the small basin at your dressing table filled with water to wipe and wash away the blood and seed from your body, pain and a lingering dull ache causing you to jerk with each swipe. 

You didn’t get much sleep that evening, staring blankly up at the ceiling. The urge to run was strong, to just leave out into the night through one of the secret passages and onto your dragons back, but the urge to stay was stronger. You hated him, truly hated him, but the way he had treated you that night, the fire in his eye, it lit something inside of you. It almost made you want him. 

Need him. 

Yet, there was another urge to stay, to make his life hell. To humiliate him at every turn, to ensure that he knew that forcing the engagement to continue would ensure him a life long marriage of discontent and disharmony. 

You were not going to bend to his will. You were not going to bend to his needs, to bow at the husband, and say ‘yes’, and ‘thank you’, and ‘please’. You were going to be who you have always been. 

A Valaryian. 

Your eyes stayed open, watching as the ceiling eventually became light with the sun, indicating the break of dawn, and soon enough your maids were entering your chambers to get you ready to be wed. You were thankful that none of them asked questions about the dirtied ripped gown, or the bloodied rag in the basin, though you knew they were likely already aware. 

The doors to your chambers opened as they pulled your hair back, pinning it atop your head in masses of braids with gold pins, tips glowing red with circular rubies. The colour of your mothers house dripping from you. Footsteps moved through your chambers, your head lifting to find Rhaenyra coming towards you, wearing a dress of black. Her silver hair half up, half down, small braids weaving around the back of her head beautifully. 

A soft smile pulled on her lips as she came towards you, causing you to turn in your seat to fully face her. She looked sad and also lovingly devoted all at once. And whilst you knew it was not her greatest wish to marry you off to her half-brother, you also both knew that it was the only way to prevent bloodshed.

“My sweet.” Rhaenyra cooed, a slender hand coming to brush against your cheek dotingly, the scar on her arm from Alicent peeking beneath the cuff of her dress.

Blood already shed.

“Muña.” You smiled back, pulling her hand down into your lap.

Your mother leant forward and placed a kiss atop your head, “You look so beautiful, my love.”

“Thank you, mother.”

“Are you ready?” Her tone was gentle, as though she didn’t wish to startle you. As though she didn’t want to break the bubble that was the safety of your chambers. 

The last time in your chambers as an unwed woman.

You gave her a reassuring smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes, and she could see it, “I must be.”

The small smile she had worn slid away, “This is not what I had intended for you. I did not wish to force you as I had been. I wish-“

“-I know.” You squeezed her hand, “I understand. It is my duty as your daughter to be wed to the Hightower’s to prevent bloodshed and war. To ensure your ascension to the throne. Let me perform my duty for you.”

“You know that we love you.” Rhaenyra squeezed your hand back, “Daemon has almost gone mad with rage. He does not wish to see you be wed to him. Luc feels that it is his fault.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from either of them.” You stood, still clutching her hand.

Her violet eyes roamed down your body. 

The dress you wore was similar to the one she had worn for her wedding to Laenor, white with gold and licks of red in the lining. The dress sat below your collarbones and drooped against your shoulders, pearlescent beads sewn onto the short sleeves like dragon scales with a red silk peaking underneath.

“I wish this could be different for you.” She came to your side, placing a white cloak atop your shoulders, the Velaryon House sigil embroidered on the back, readying you to leave your chambers.

You looped your arm in hers, steeling a breath before you gave her a confident smile, “I don’t.”

-

Your heart rattled in your chest as you tried to stop the anxiety that churned nauseatingly in your stomach. Your hand was clenched tightly against Daemons arm, who slowly walked you down the many tables filled with people towards the man who would soon be your husband. 

“Breathe.” Daemon cooed softly in your ear, his hand attempting to soothe you with soft brushes against yours. 

Your eyes had not once left Aemond, who watched you with a dark glare. 

The second son stood before the table, Viserys slumped behind him in his chair, the barest of smiles on his rotted face, half covered by a golden mask as you came towards them all. Your mother and Alicent sat on either sides of the King, followed by your brothers, your uncles, your cousins, and your aunt.

Aemond stood stiffly as he always did, the perfect posture with his shoulders back. He was higher on the stairs so that he looked down his nose at you, which wasn’t different to any other time he did. Each step towards him was nerve-wracking, the Lords and Ladies who had travelled far and wide watching you with keen eyes.

When finally you were standing before him, Daemon let go, coming to stand between you and Aemond momentarily, breaking your eye contact for the first time since you entered the room. Your uncle Daemon’s face was a kind one, and one you had grown to love as a step-father. He did not offer you a reassuring smile like your mother did, nor did he offer a consoling one. Instead, he leant forward to press a kiss to the side of your face before standing straight, towering over the both of you in both height and size before he moved back towards the table, sitting beside your mother. 

And so the ceremony began. 

In the light of the chambers Aemond looked sinister, shadows cast across his sharp face as he continued to look down his nose at you, chin still raised high. The Prince’s hair was styled in the way that it always was; straight and down his back, with two plain pieces pulled away from the sides of his face, tied neatly behind his head. He wore all black, the lining and undershirt the deepest of greens that was almost onyx. A symbol of his mother and her war that she had declared on a night such like this, many years ago. 

The room felt hot, the back of your neck sweating as you stared at each other, all eyes pinned on you as the Septon’s voice boomed throughout the room.

“Father, Mother, Warrior,” The old mans voice was so loud in your ear that you winced,  “Smith, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. Hear now their vows.”

You swallowed thickly, momentarily looking down at your hands before back into his sole lilac one, watching as his posture straightened further, surprised that he could even do so.

“I am yours, and you are mine.” Aemond’s voice dipped lower, “Whatever may come.”

Your throat felt dry, but your gut was filled with anticipation. You were frightened, but there was something else simmering beneath it all. A need for the danger he brought, a feeling of protection from him. Not from him and his anger, but from others.

A possessive desire.

The Septon looked at you impatiently to say your vows, and a small wave of quiet whispers spread across the room as you stood silently. The Prince shifted on his feet, muscles in his jaw clenching.

“I am yours,” You breathed softly, hands gripping each other tightly in front of your dress, “And you’re mine. Whatever may come.”

The purple of Aemond’s eye was half hidden by his lid, his gaze having softened at your short vow. You watched as the corner of his sharp lips twitched upwards lightly into a small smirk.

The Septon continued, “Here in the presence of Gods and Men, I proclaim Aemond of House Targaryen and Y/n of House Velaryon to be man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”

Man and Wife.

Wed to Aemond Targaryen. 

Your husband.

Now and forever.

An eruption of congratulatory joy spread throughout the room, the noise almost deafening as everyone celebrated what could be your demise. And though the noise around you was distracting, you could not look away from him, even as he shifted closer.

Aemond’s hand lifted and you flinched, the only people having noticed was your family seated behind you. His hand continued despite your shock to cup the side of your face and jaw, and as quickly as it happened, it ended. Aemond’s face grew closer as his eye slid shut, pressing his lips tenderly to yours in a brief moment before he pulled away, hand dropping back down to his side. The hand that had cupped your face grasped your hand for all to see, before he led you around to your seat at the table. 

-

The night of celebrations became a blur, too in shock to really enjoy yourself, but wine still flowing heavily. Most of your evening you spent ignoring your new husband, opting to speak mostly to your mother and brothers, as well as Daemon and his daughters, who threw you pitying smiles, yet words of encouragement. 

Aemond sat by your side, though he made no effort to join your conversations or create ones of his own. He had always been the quiet of his siblings, always sticking to the shadows and tomes of the library, never quite fitting in. 

Helaena leant forward towards you, Otto eyeing her warily whilst Alicent looked as though she was about to chastise her daughter. In your aunts hand was a beetle, all black, though when the light of the candles shone on his shell, it seemed to glow. Greens and blues, and purples and pinks, danced across the beetles wings as it crawled atop her hand. 

Your aunt had always loved insects, and had always been a sweet and kind person. You loved Helaena, and if there was anything that could help you endure living in the Red Keep alone without your family, it would be her. 

“He appears dark,” She breathed watching as it crawled through a gap in her fingers and back towards her palm, “But if you look closely, you’ll find that he’s not.”

You shuffled in your seat, your shoulder pressed to hers as you ducked your head to look closer at the beetle, “He’s quite beautiful.”

Healaena lifted her face towards you, as she smiled at you dreamily, “He is, if you let him.”

Frowning, you looked back to the beetle, “How do I let a beetle be a beetle?”

Helaena did not answer you, instead continuing to twist and turn her hand as the bug crawled around on it. 

Aegon watched from above the rim of his cup, drunk with red rimmed eyes. His hair was oily and wavy, unbrushed atop his round face. You could not help but feel a shiver crawl over you as he smiled.

“Our sweet niece and brother are finally married.” Aegon purred, Helaena barely giving him a second glance as though over the years she had attuned herself into pretending that he did not exist.

“A joyous occasion, uncle.” You smiled falsely back, picking up your own goblet of wine, ready to go back to talking with Helaena. Or the beetle.

Anything to escape Aegon.

“Do you know what happens tonight? After the celebrations of course.” Your uncles voice creeped along the surface of the table like a snake, so that only you and his siblings could hear. 

You swallowed thickly. 

Of course you did. 

You had done it last night.

Bar a bed. Or walls.

In fact, it wasn’t even in the Keep, and instead in a dirty alley in Flea Bottom, hidden amongst the shadows.

“I’m aware.” Your voice was clipped, which seemed to goad Aegon.

“And how does our sweet little niece know of such things?”

You swallowed thickly, head turning to look at Aemond, whose eye was trained on his brother.

“My Septa.” You tuned back to face him, “And your whoring.”

Aegon chuckled, filling up his goblet with wine once more, “I suppose then you know what to expect.”

“Yes.”

“Should you ever be in want of a demonstration-"

“-Leave her be.” Came Aemond’s voice, almost a growl. His hand was clutched tightly around his own goblet as he challenged his older brother to say something more. 

Aegon laughed loudly, eyes on his brothers clenched hand before looking up to watch him, “I only jest, brother! It is a night of celebrations!” He thrust his goblet towards the One-Eyed Prince, “It’s not everyday that my little brother is married off to such a beautiful princess. The daughter of the Realm’s Delight, no less. Do you think-“

Helaena shifted, turning her body towards you, “It isn’t so bad.” She spoke emotionlessly into your ear to distract you from Aegon, “It only hurts the first few times.” Your aunt paused in thought, lavender eyes still on the beetle as it moved, before looking at you, “Or when he’s angry. Or drunk.” She added as an afterthought, “But mostly when he’s drunk.”

Sorrow coursed through you for your aunt, your gaze immediately staring into Aegon’s angrily. How could he do this to her? How could he treat her like one of his whores? If not because she is his wife, but because she is his sister. Aegon seemed to sink into his chair after Helaena’s comment, soft anger simmering off of him in small waves.

But Aegon has never truly known when to stop.

“I am sure my brother here will barely draw blood.” 

“I am sure your interest in your brothers cock speaks loudly.”

Elbows sloppily placed on the table he leant towards you, “I tried to take him once you know, to a whorehouse.” His voice became more hushed, “He hated it. Made me think that maybe our dear Aemond was perhaps like your father, Laenor.”

Blinding rage shot through you, “Don’t speak about my father.” You hissed, “He was more man than you shall ever be.”

A cruel smirk pulled at Aegon’s lips, “I am sure he has had more men than I ever shall.”

Your hand shot forward to grasp your goblet, ready to hurl it across the table at him, peace be damned, but Aemond was quicker and snatched your wrist before the tips of your fingers could even reach the cup. 

A quiet fell over your table as all watched the interaction, your wrist in Aemond’s hand, Aegon smirking cruelly at you, and your face hot with anger.

“I pity you.” You quietly seethed, “Always so desperate to get a reaction out of the people around you, because if you didn’t you would simply cease to exist. Though you are the first son of Viserys, a peasant bastard from Flea Bottom would garner more respect.” 

Aegon’s gassed darkened, his mouth readying to fire back at you.

“Aemond.” Alicent called to her son, a questioning and yet chastising tone in her voice. 

Aemond looked at his mother, and then back to you, checking to see if you were going to continue on with your thought. But you had grown tired of the grip he had on you, his large hand squeezing your bones painfully as they shifted beneath the skin. 

“Don’t touch me.” You sneered at him, snatching your hand away as you stood, chair scraping loudly against the flagstones.

The throne room quietened, all stilling to watch as you stood at the table, seething down at your husband. The rest of your family all watched warily, except for the Rogue Prince who smirked broadly at you. Your chest heaved with anger as you looked down at Aemond, who stared up at you with similar rage. 

King Viserys sensing the tension smiled, though it looked more like a grimace, “Our young lovers wish to dance!” A distraction on his end, and a clever one at that. 

The room erupted into cheers and clapping, and the musicians in the corner began playing music loudly for all. Lords and Ladies stood from their seats and moved into the centre of the room to dance together.

Glaring down at your husband, your hands clenched into fists, waiting for him. Aemond slowly stood, towering over you, a large hand stretched out towards you, palm up. 

“Wife.”

“Husband.” You growled, taking his hand roughly, digging your nails into his skin as you led him down the stairs towards the people.

The court parted to the sides like a wave, creating a path for you straight to the centre as you lead Aemond down to it, almost like a dog. Each man and woman watched with excitement, either for the celebrations or the rising tension between the two of you. You’d be a fool to think that the court wouldn’t love a quarrel to arise so that they may whisper about it in corridors later to come. 

It could be a way to press the wound so to speak with Aemond later.

You stopped in the centre, finally letting go of your husband as you spun to face him. 

He stood as he always did, stiff, emotionless with a hint of arrogance, watching you with a cool glare. The court waited for you to begin, as the music continued to play, but even then you couldn’t push yourself to touch him. To feel his hands on you once more, alighting a fire within you that you did not know was possible, the embers still burning from the night before.

Would they be able to tell?

That he had already deflowered you in Flea Bottom?

In a dirty alley like one of Aegon’s whores?

In a way, you hoped they would. Let it bring him dishonour. Let it bring him humiliation from the court that his wife would take him in such a filthy, commoner way. You wished for his disdain, you wished for his anger, anything but the clear desire which seemed to move through him as he watched you from down his nose. 

“Well?” You snipped, waiting for him to make the first move.

Aemond came forward swiftly, much like he had in the alley, and you had to bite your cheeks to stop the gasp that would have escaped your mouth. 

It came to him so naturally to touch you, to hold you. One large hand immediately grasping yours by your side pulling it up, the other skating up your hip, over your collar bone, slowly down your shoulder, and down, down, down your arm. 

Goosebumps rose on your skin, a shiver running down your back as his other hand connected with yours, and slowly but surely, the dance began. Even with the noise of the room, the music playing, the talking, and laughter, and joy from the guests, you could still hear the small little gasps and breaths you let free as you danced with Aemond. 

It was likely one of the only times you hadn’t bickered after so long in his presence, let alone whilst touching him. The two of you stayed silent, moving this way and that, your gaze occasionally flitting to the table to your mother and Daemon, who watched with kind eyes. 

“Don’t let Aegon goad you.” Aemond finally spoke. 

His hand brushed against your shoulders, and round the back of your neck, a heat beginning to simmer in your gut from his touch. You turned to face him, watching as he observed you closely.

“He won’t stop if you show it bothers you.”

“He always bothers me.” You snipped, but this time with much less anger, “He is like a fly you wish to swat but can never reach."

Aemond’s lip twitched as he looked at you, turning around you slowly, “Mm.” 

“Mm.” You mimicked, turning away from him.

“Behave yourself, wife.” Aemond purred, irritation flitting through you momentarily.

“What? Like how behaved yourself last night?” 

“I could say much the same to you.”

“A shame then.” You sighed, moving to come chest to chest with him, your breath stilling in your lungs as you looked up at him. You would never get used to how tall he had grown over the years, “You bring much dishonour to your mother.”

“As do you. Whoring yourself to a Lord of the North-“

“-King of the North-“

“-In a dirty, whore riddled tavern.”

“A dirty, whore riddled tavern that you knew about.”

Aemond stilled, his head dipping towards you, “Did you think that I wouldn’t know of your movements in Kings Landing? Did you truly believe that I would be so foolish as to think that you would come to me willingly?”

You swallowed thickly.

“No.” He continued, sucking on his teeth, “You forget that I know you. You are much like your brothers. Getting into places where you don’t belong.”

“And what of yours?” You became defensive at the mention of your brothers, remembering how he and his would call you all bastards, “Loudly and brazenly whoring himself to any and all who would dare risk fucking him.”

“My brothers whoring does not concern me.”

“Then I suppose I am not a concern either.” You sniffed, “You needn’t worry, I am sure that he should find his way into our chambers one way or another.”

The hand on your arm tightened to the point of pain, your cheek twitching as you tried to hold in a wince, “I told you, he is not of concern.”

“I know Aegon. I have heard of what he does-“

“-And you know me. Know that he will not-“

“-He will not, what? Sully me? Taint our marital bed? It is already tainted. You made sure of that last night.” You stood closer to him, still as the others danced around you, your gaze peering up into his as your chest heaved, “But what if I want him to? What if I willingly invite him to take me? I’m sure you do not mind sharing after all, he is your brother.”

Aemond’s eye flashed with anger, before his head slowly ducked beside your ear, “If you think I am fool enough to stoop to your provocations then you must forget that we grew up together, side by side. I know your tricks.” The hand on your arm released its strong grip, coming to brush against the back of your neck, “I know that you despise him just as much as I. I know that you used to cry at the Godswood when he called you bastard.”

You bristled, purposely stepping back as you stared at him angrily. You hated that word. You hated what it meant for you and your siblings. You hated that he and his brother and his mother and the court whispered about all of your parentage. You hated that once, when you had been young, despite all of this, you had been friends.

Rage bubbled up inside of you, and before you could stop yourself you leant forward, hand coming to touch the side of Aemond’s face with his one seeing eye, the other covered by his leather patch.

You rubbed your thumb atop his cheek, “Imply that I am bastard once more, and I shall blind you with the purpose that Lucerys lacked.”

Aemond’s chest rose and fell jaggedly, inhaling breaths faster than yours, anger coursing through his veins. His sharp lips twitched as he watched you, “I wouldn’t dare. I know just how Strong you are, Princess.”

Your thumb moved fast, but Aemond was faster, anticipating your movements. His hand caught yours against his cheek, trapping your fingers between his hand so that they may not move further to pluck his remaining eye from its socket like intended. 

“People are watching, ābrazȳrys.” Wife, He purred, though there was a lick of danger behind it. 

A warning.

“Ivestragī zirȳ urnēbagon.” Let them watch, You sneered, “Nyke kessa laesdaor ao hae iā dīnilūks irudy.” I shall blind you as a wedding gift.

Aemond’s silver brow lifted, “Skoros iā sȳz irudy.” What a good gift, His eye turned dangerous, “Eman iā irudy syt ao, mēre nyke gōntan daor jaelagon naejot tepagon.” I have a gift for you, one I did not wish to give.

“Is it your death?” You countered cheerily, not wanting to show him that the way he spoke to you set your hair on end.

“No. I think it will be much better than that. We will both come to enjoy it.” The danger in his eye still flickered like a flame, “I was considering not giving it to you, but since you are behaving so wonderfully, I simply must insist.”

You turned away from him, moving to go back to your seat, “I want nothing from you.”

“And yet, you'll have everything.”

-

As the night grew long, your fears grew larger. And though he had taken you the night before in an alley, his subtle threat of what may come tonight lingered in the back of your mind. Each cup of wine was drained eagerly by your lips, hoping and wishing that you could somehow make yourself sick enough to not have the bedding ceremony. 

But it came all the same, just as the wedding had.

Aegon was the one who initiated the beginning of the end.

A large clap came from in front of you, the short haired Prince leaning towards you on the tables with his hands clasped together, silver and gold rings adorning them. A sinister smile pulled at his lips as he beamed at you and his brother. 

“The night is late!” He proclaimed loudly to the chambers, many Lords and Ladies turning their heads to watch, “I think we have held these two young lovers hostage for far too long!” Aegon smiled out to the room and then stood, lifting his goblet. 

His shirt was untucked, his gait unsteady and he swayed on his feet as he continued, “My brother is too polite to remove himself from festivities such as these! But brother,” He thrusted his cup towards you, “I can see that you wish to take your new wife to bed! The love these two share is a tale for story books, though they are too polite to say a thing.” He chuckled, and laughter followed from the Lords behind you, “Worry not! We will continue the festivities without you!”

Cheers were heard from about the room, though none came from your own table. Aegon sipped his wine greedily, eyes watching you from above the rim of his cup. The Prince took the goblet from his lips and clicked his fingers impatiently beside him, pointing at an uncomfortable Criston Cole who came to his side like a well trained mutt.

“Ser Criston, take these newly weds to my brothers chambers. It seems it is time for the bedding ceremony.”

Ceremony. 

Your blood ran cold. 

Aemond stood abruptly beside you, head on with his brother. 

“No need, Ser Cole.” His smooth voice icy, “I shall escort the Princess there myself.”

Aemond pushed his chair backwards as you continued to stare at Aegon, not quite ready to be alone with the Prince. 

Your husband.

You blinked, turning your head towards your family, who all gave you pained smiles. But it was your duty. And you had given your mother your word. Slowly you stood, letting your eyes scan the table, softly landing on your grandsire before meeting with a pair of large brown eyes. Alicent Hightower watched on with a nervous energy, her hands shifting on her lap as you assumed she picked at the skin around her fingers. The look in her eyes almost held empathy. 

Almost. 

You bowed your head to the King and Queen, ignoring Aegon’s shit eating grin. 

“Your Grace.”

Pushing your chair back you ignored the outstretched arm of Aemond and made your way down the stairs, Lords and Ladies watching as you made your slow exit from the room, taking false prideful steps through the court to delay the inevitable, giving all who watched smiles and nods of your head. 

The shifting of armour moved loudly behind you, before soon enough, Ser Criston Cole was overtaking your step to lead you out of the chambers and soon to Aemond’s. The white cape attached to his shoulders billowed behind him as he speedily kept on.

The skin on your elbow burned, a hand gripping it tightly as you were momentarily slowed as Aemond came to your side. You refused to meet his eye, feeling his gaze upon the side of your face as you exited the chambers, the sounds of cheering and laughter loud behind you. The chamber doors shut with a thump, the sound dampened and muffled, footsteps echoing down the darkened corridors of the Red Keep.

“Does Ser Criston not wish to watch you bed me?” You sneered, eyes flickering to the lit lamps on the walls as Aemond led you down a wing of the Keep you had scarcely been down. 

“I have instructed him to prepare my chambers for your arrival.” Aemond replied, his strides long and rigid as he almost hauled you with him. 

“Do not pull me.” You yanked your arm back, halting your steps, “I am not your dog.”

Aemond stilled, looking down his nose at you as he towered above, “Dogs are better behaved.”

The Prince’s head snapped to the side, pain spreading through your palm as you sneered at him. The side of his cheek bloomed an angry red, yet Aemond did not react to your slap, nor did he hit you back, instead, a slow smirk pulled at his lips. 

“I shall allow that, but only because I know you will regret it.”

Rising to your tiptoes you tried to make yourself come to eye level, “I regret nothing.”

“Mm.” He looked at you blankly, “I shall give you a choice.” Anger rose within your chest, heat creeping up your neck and into your cheeks, “Come with me to the Godswood.” Your brows furrowed, “Pray to the Gods for forgivingness for striking your husband, kneel and apologise. Swear obeisance to me-”

“-If you think-“

“-And I shall let you go to your own chambers alone. No need for a bedding ceremony after last night.”

You flushed, swallowing thickly, “I would never lower myself to apologising to a second son. And especially not to a Prince who is owed no inkling of respect.”

Aemond watched you for a beat, eye scanning your face as his held flat, “Then we continue to my chambers.” The hand that pulled you began again, and your feet struggled to keep up with his, bruises no doubt to be on the tender flesh of your arm in the morning. 

Your heart raced in your chest as you felt yourself get closer to his chambers, his strides not once slowing down, though you tried to dig your heels into the flagstones to slow him. 

“You care not to have a woman enthusiastic in your bed?” You tugged fruitlessly at your arm, “You wish to drag me to a night of suffering, like a savage. Like your brother, Aegon.” You sneered, fruitlessly tugging your arm to escape his grip.

“A savage would have had you atop the table before all to see when you first defied me. I gave you a chance to apologise, remember that you scorned it.”

“A chance? What chance was I given? A loveless marriage with a man who is not my equal? A burden I am forced to bear as I am forced to lay beneath him!”

Aemond’s steps halted once more, almost causing you to crash into him, his fingers tightening against your arm as he yanked you against his chest angrily, “You needlessly make this more difficult. I extended an offering to you of peace, and you burnt it.”

“Peace?” You screeched incredulously, “You have done naught but provoke me! Naught but push and prod and goad me into reaction so that you may justify your sick desires.”

“Provoke you? I seem to recall you sneaking into Flea Bottom to try and lay with a Lord to spite me.”

“I was trying to save us from a loveless and cruel union.”

“Us? Or yourself?”

You paused, mouth feeling dry. Anger and fear swirled within your gut viscously as you stared at him. The both of you panting heavily at one another. Aemond shifted, moving away from the wall beside you, revealing two large wooden doors. 

You were there.

And you had not even realised.

“Wife.” Aemond purred sarcastically before pushing open the door, the smell of his room engulfing you. 

It smelt of him, but far more intensely. Of leather and smoke, and spices which he dabbed his skin with, and still, behind all of this, the natural scent of him. The smell that was only his and his alone. A scent that had wrapped around you in that alleyway the night before. 

The fireplace raged wildly, the room filled with dark mahogany furniture. There was a chaise, arm chairs, a table seated for six, a large bed on the other end, a reading desk with piles of books and scrolls, and candles sitting on every surface, lighting the room. 

The second thing you observed as your eyes roamed the space was that you were not alone. 

Your heart skipped in your chest. 

There by the bed, was a man sat in a chair. Arms tied down to it as his feet were tightly bound to the legs. His long dark hair was knotted atop his head as he stared at you in shock, and beside him, Ser Criston Cole.

“Cregan?” You breathed in shock, running towards the Northerner as you dropped to your knees, hand reaching out to cup his face as he only looked at you with sorrow, “Are you hurt?”

“I did warn you,” Aemond growled from behind, “That you would regret it. I had a plan, you see. A moment of mercy to let you apologise at the Godswood, for you to go-“

“-Let him go!”

“-To your chambers untouched and unscathed. I had given you a choice, and this is the one you have chosen.”

You turned your head sharply to face Aemond, “What have you done?”

“This man was caught conspiring against the crown. He planned to take the Princess’ honour and humiliate her betrothed. A Prince.” His lilac eye held Cregan’s icy blue ones, “I have done my duty by capturing this traitor to the realm.”

Fear began to bubble inside of you, eyes looking back to Cregan. The left side of his face was bruised, small cuts littered across his cheek and brow. His soft lips were swollen and split, and dried blood had gathered in one corner.

“He is innocent.” Your knees ached as they dug into the stones below, your upper body turning to face Aemond again, “He knew naught of what I was doing. Punish me. Let him go.”

Aemond hummed and walked towards you, “Brave. Admirable if it wasn’t for nothing. No. I gave you a choice before, and you have made your choice. I gave you the option to apologise, to bend to me as your husband, to go to your chambers alone, but this is what you have chosen. This was your choice.”

“You gave me no choice!” You sneered, moving to stand, shielding Cregan’s body with your own, “All this talk of choices when all you have gave was an unknown ultimatum.”

“A choice nonetheless. Godswood or chambers. And so here we are. The consequences of your actions.” The Prince came closer, shadows cast across his face, “I told you that you would regret it.”

“You’re a savage! A foul beast.”

A smile pulled at Aemond’s lips, “Choose your words carefully, wife. I have no qualm with slitting his throat where he sits should you continue to defy me.”

Cregan pulled against his restraints, angrily sneering at Aemond, who simply hummed once more as he came to stand before you, looking down at you with false pity, “But, it is the night of our union, and the betrayal is still fresh and something I am willing to move past. I shall give you another choice. One that I feel may be far too lenient.”

Tears began to well in your eyes.

This was all your fault.

“The Lord of Winterfell shall sit where he is, and watch as I fuck you in ways that he never shall-“

“-You disgust me!”

“-Or he shall be tried and hung for treason.” Aemond came closer, his chest almost brushing against yours as he stared at you, “The choice is yours.”

You sneered upwards at your uncle, tears gathering in your eyes, “I would rather die than let you touch me again.”

“I recall you seeming to enjoy it, wetting my cock in that filthy alley as you begged for it.” He purred, hand lifting to brush hair from your face as he sighed, “I don’t mind what you choose, I could simply slit his throat myself right now? If you'd prefer it?”

A lone tear fell down your cheek as you turned and held Cregan’s gaze, his brows furrowing as he saw you come to your decision. 

“Y/n, don’t-“ Cregan’s head was jerked back roughly, Ser Coles hand in his hair as he stuck a blade beneath his chin. The edge of the blade nicked the skin lightly, a small bead of blood travelling down his neck. 

He would die.

He would die and it would be all your fault.

“Please, Aemond.” You begged, “Please do not do this. Let him go. Let him go and I swear to you I will obey your commands. Let him free and I am yours.”

The silver haired mans head tilted as he cooed you, “I am sorry, my love. But it is too late to beg for my mercy as I offered it to you before. What kind of man would I be if I excused such treason?”

You stepped forward swiftly, “A strong one. A merciful one. A man who can see the error of my way. That I am repentant.” You tried to cajole him, “I promise you I will be good. I will perform my duty and do what is expected of me.”

“You are sweet when you beg, but it is too late.”

“Uncle, please! I will do anything! Anything you ask of me. I swear to the Seven.”

Aemond smiled at you, “I know you will. And that is why you will do this.” Aemond swallowed, eye roaming down your wedding gown hungrily, defiantly. 

Angrily. 

“Strip.”

“Aemond-“

“-Strip, or he dies.”

Tears rolled down your cheek, your stomach rolling in disgust and fear. 

“Please do not make me do this.” You sobbed, arms limp by your side as you looked down at the flagstones, feeling defeated.

Your husband tutted you, long slender finger brushing the tears that fell from your eyes away, “Do not waste your tears on him, my love. I can be gentle, and soon you will come to love my touch. This, I promise you.”

Pain bloomed in your jaw as you ground your teeth together, wary to not trigger Criston’s excitable hand. Short breaths puffed from your nose as fury and sorrow rose within you like a tide, little by little building in a wave. In your periphery, Aemond stepped back, a pale hand presented in front of you, palm outstretched for you to take.

Slowly, you let your gaze meet his, heated glare ignoring his offering as you refused to move. One last act of defiance. And one Aemond did not take lightly. Pain bloomed in your shoulder as you were roughly yanked forwards, and thrown backwards against the bed. Cregan shouted from behind you, the chair creaking beneath him. 

“I said, strip.” Aemond growled.

Your eyes flicked to Cregan, and then up towards Ser Cole who watched with conflicted eyes.

“Please,” You begged softly again, keeping your eyes on Ser Criston, “Not him too. Not Ser Cole.”

A shifting of armour moved from behind Aemond, and a small ‘Your Grace’ fell from the knights lips. 

Aemond spun, momentarily ignoring you as he turned to the knight standing awkwardly beside Cregan Stark, “You may leave, Ser Cole.” Aemond sniffed, “I am certain our guest will behave accordingly.”

Ser Criston’s eyes flickered to yours and then to the Prince as you tried to plead to him with yours for help. 

To help the daughter of the woman he was once sworn to. 

But no help came. 

The Dornish knight bowed his head and left without another word. 

“Let her go-“

“-Ah.” Aemond turned slowly towards Cregan, slow steps coming forward until he stood towering over the northerner, “Speak again and I’ll cut out your tongue.”

“Kepus,” You stood from the bed, grasping Aemond’s elbow tightly, hoping, praying that if you asked once more that he could see reason, “Please, let him go. I am yours. I will always be yours.”

Aemond stared at you, his pupil dilated as he stared at you intently.

“Strip.”

You fought the sob that threaten to rise up your throat and slowly lifted your chin. 

You would not show weakness. 

You would be strong. 

With shaking hands, you let your fingers find the strings at the back of your dress, and slowly but surely you pulled the laces, keeping your eyes on your husband who watched with intent. 

The gown sagged against your frame, the soft material falling down your chest slowly as you held it for one last moment, hoping that it was all a test, that he would change his mind and stop this madness. 

But he didn’t. 

Breath held in your chest, you let the gown fall to the floor below you, leaving you in your thin shift before the two men. Cregan looked away, his eyes focusing on the stones of the wall in shame, his hands tucked into tight fists against the arm of the arm of the chair, knuckles turning white.

A shiver ran down your back as the cool of the chambers stiffened your nipples into peaks, brushing against the white of your chemise. Aemond took a slow step towards you and then another, hand lifting to brush under your chin, an attempt to direct your gaze to him. You turned your head defiantly; looking to the wall where Cregan’s gaze laid. 

“Y/n.” Aemond warned softly, thumb and forefinger pinching your chin as he turned your face towards him, “Look at me.” 

Reluctantly you let yourself, and all you saw was the black of his pupil as he devoured you with his darkened gaze, “You’re so beautiful.” He cooed, “My wife.”

You swallowed thickly, his hand slowly skimming down your neck raising goosebumps along your skin as his fingers came to rest against the edge of your chemise. The tips of his nails scraped softly against your skin as it slipped beneath, and with an even slower movement, he tugged the chemise down off of your shoulders, the thin material floating down to the floor below leaving you completely exposed to the two men in his chambers. 

“I will not harm you, though you would deserve it.” Aemond purred, his eye roaming your exposed body, your stomach and core clenching in anticipation, “I plan to make you beg for it.”

You opened your mouth to snap at him, but in the moment his long fingers came to brush under your breast, fingers teasing your nipple softly, your mouth clamped shut. You shyly glanced at Cregan, who’s eyes were scrunched tight. Aemond followed your line of sight, sighing.

“If you do not watch,” Aemond fully turned to Cregan, “I will take out your eyes.” 

Even at the One-Eyed Princes threat, Cregan did not lift his gaze from the wall. The Lord of Winterfell willing to risk his sight so that you may keep your dignity.

“Fine.” Aemond grunted, pulling the blade from his belt, “Then I shall take hers.”

Fear shot through you as you stared at Aemond tearfully, watching in your periphery as Cregan’s head turned towards you and yelled. 

“No!”

“Then,” Aemond sneered, “Watch.” 

With eyes filled with shame, Cregan looked up at you. You didn’t know what to do, what could make it better. What could make any of this not what it was, and so you tried to offer him a reassuring nod. A small promise that it was okay to look when all you knew was how very much it wasn’t.

“Good.” The Prince hummed. 

Aemond resumed his touch against you, hand coming to cup your breast fully as he rolled your nipple between his fingers. His touch sent sparks across your chest, shame washing over you in a wave. 

Aemond ducked his head towards your face, beckoning you to kiss him. Would he be gentle as he was when you were married? Would it soften his actions? Or would it only make him worse?

Deciding that you didn’t want to push what little patience he had, your eyes slid shut, breath stuck deep in your chest as you felt the heat of his body come closer, the hand on your breast skating around your ribs to pull you closer to him. 

When his lips pressed against yours it was light, gentle, almost cautious, your hands staying stiff by your sides. But that softness was short lived, and soon Aemond deepened the kiss, his teeth clashing against yours roughly. 

You gasped softly as his other hand wound into your hair, tugging you closer as he nipped your bottom lip roughly. Your hands instinctually came up to his chest, gripping onto his jacket tightly to steady yourself. Anger poured into the kiss, and from behind you could feel the reluctant glare of Cregan. 

Aemond pulled away, your eyes fluttering open to look at him. His lips were swollen, having turned a rosy pink as a blush settled across his cheeks. His chest heaved against yours, the stitching on his coat brushing roughly against your stiffened peaks. 

“Have you ever bed a woman, Stark?” Aemond asked smugly, brushing the back of your neck as you turned you to face the Northerner again, your back to Aemond’s chest.

Even as exposed as you were, Cregan’s eyes did not shift to look at your body, keeping his simmering glare on Aemond.

Clicking his tongue, Aemond continued, “I’m sure you’ve fucked wildlings and mudmen alike, being a man of the North.” An arm wrapped around the front of your chest, breasts squeezed beneath the toned arm of your uncle behind you, “Tell me, are Winterfells brothels full of sheep like the Vale? Or maybe they’re full of pigs since you’re both fond of the mud.”

The chair beneath Cregan creaked, his jaw tensing in anger as Aemond taunted him. His pale eyes narrowed, lips tensed together in a sneer as his nostrils flared, breathing heavily whilst his hands gripped the arms of the chair tightly.

“No? Hm.” Aemond’s other hand slid across the skin of your back, travelling around to the front of your stomach slowly, brushing his fingertips along your hip bone as he continued, “You see, Stark, mudmen of the North have no place with the blood of Valyria. The Blood of the Dragon would never sully itself by laying with a Northerner. Nor would a Princess.” His hand continued to dip down, fingers brushing into the hair atop your mound. 

Your back arched in instinct, trying to escape his hand, but it only pushed your backside into his clearly hardened member, “Targaryens don’t fuck like animals,” His voice dipped lower, “We bring pleasure to our lovers.”

Aemond’s hand continued down, parting your folds with a finger, seeking out the heat and slick that had gathered at your entrance. Once found, Aemond’s chest vibrated from behind with an appreciative hum, dragging a long slender finger from your entrance, back up to your pearl. You jerked in his hold as he pushed lightly against it, slowly and torturously swirling the digit against your bud, your arousal aiding his movements. 

You watched Cregan curiously, the urge to hide yourself strong. His eyes never once left Aemond as he continued to bring you soft pleasure. The Stark’s chest rose and fell shallowly as he glared at the man behind you, who watched back with impatience. 

“I won’t tell you again.” Aemond purred, fingers dipping down to your entrance as he suddenly shoved one long finger inside of you, causing you to gasp at the small sting, “Watch her, or I blind her.”

Cregan’s eyes shut as he took a shaky breath, Aemond’s finger crooking inside of you, pressing against your front wall roughly. A whine fell from your lips causing the icy blue eyes to catch yours finally. Cregan swallowed thickly as you stared at one another, your hands gripping the sleeve of Aemond’s arm across your chest, twisting the material between your fingers as you shifted your hips back, pressing against him as he sped up his fingers movement. 

Cregan’s stare was hard, his eyes apologetic, watching you shift against your husband behind you as he began to fuck his finger inside of you, the sound of your slick filling the room. Your face flushed with embarrassment. 

“She’s quite reactive,” Aemond purred, slipping his finger from within you to rub at your bud again, causing you to jerk in his hold, his arm tightening further around your chest, “Her body knows what it wants, even when she tries to fight it. Do you hear how she needs me?” 

Aemond’s finger moved back to your entrance, but instead of one, he forced in a second, the ache from the night before settling within you again.

“Gods.” You whispered softly, pain and pleasure mixing into a confusing blend. Your head fell back against Aemond’s shoulder as he sped up his hand, fucking his fingers inside of you roughly. All you could do was lean your weight back against him, his arm the only thing that held you upright as his arousal pressed into the small of your back.

A familiar warmth began to build within you quickly, a coil rapidly tightening within your gut as Aemond switched from fucking you with his hand, to rubbing slick circles against your pearl. You scrunched your eyes shut, mouth going slack as your breath hitched. You were so close, so close, to reaching your peak, but each time you would almost get there, Aemond would slow his hand down. 

You whined in his arms, shifting as you just wished it would end, wishing he would let you peak. It was torture. And with each time he did it, the frustration and desperation built, a light sheen of sweat covering your skin.

“What is the matter?” Aemond cooed into your ear, his fingers slowing to almost a halt, “Did you need something?”

You huffed a breath through your nose, eyes scrunching shut as you tried to thrust your hips into his hand, anything to alleviate the pressure that was strung to snap at any moment. You didn’t care anymore, you just needed it to end. Aemond’s fingers stopped, hovering over your pearl.

You didn’t even want to think of what you must have looked like, bare, hair likely a mess, and body aching for release.

All while Cregan Stark watched.

“If you want something,” Aemond’s lips came to the side of your ear, pressing a ghostly kiss to them, “You need only ask.”

You bit on your bottom lip, willing yourself to not give in, to not give him what he wanted, but all you could think about was reaching your peak. Logically, you told yourself it was for Cregan’s sake so that it could all end quickly, but in reality, it was so that the throbbing in your core would cease, and the sweet feeling of relief could wash over you like it had the night before. 

“Come now, you’re not one to hold your tongue. Ask.”

You wet your lips timidly, keeping your eyes shut in shame, not wanting to see Cregan’s face as you begged for the man behind you to touch you again as he watched. 

A sharp sting shot through your centre, your eyes springing open as you gasped, you gaze immediately meeting the cold icy glare of Cregan, who’s fists tightened around the arms of the chair.

“Speak.” Aemond commanded, voice sharper in your ear as he watched Cregan tensing to the chair he was tied to.

Your mouth felt dry, and you licked at your lips once more before you softly whispered, “Please.”

“Please what?”

Cregan’s gaze looked back to yours, his eyes softened.

“Please,” You begged softly, “Touch me.”

You heard Aemond hummed from behind you, his finger slowly pressing into your cunt as he gathered slick from your entrance to drag back up to your bud.

“Like this?” He purred, slowly making circles against you, the coil within tightening again.

All you could do was nod, but that was not the answer that Aemond demanded. His fingers left your pearl as he waited, and you huffed in frustration.

“Touch me. Please, Aemond.” You weakly begged, eyes darting to the floor in embarrassment, not wanting to see Cregan’s face. 

His touched resumed once more, but the arm wrapped around your chest shifted, his hand coming to grasp your chin as he lifted your head to look squarely at Cregan, a soft blush spreading across his cheeks.

“All you needed to do was ask, sweet wife.” Aemond purred, the movement speeding up, bringing you closer and closer to your peak, “I want you to wet my hand, and watch him whilst you do it. If you do not,” His voice dipped low, fingers pressing almost painfully against you, “I will know.”

You swallowed dryly and nodded your head in his grasp, feeling your peak begin to barrel towards you. Cregan watched your face, his own a soft pink and ice blue eyes half lidded. 

“Does this feel good? Am I making you nice and wet?” Aemond cooed, hand plucking pleasure from you in ways you didn’t know was possible.

You nodded weakly, “Yes.”

“You can do better than that. Tell him what it feels like.”

Your eyes widened, embarrassment flaring inside of you.

“Tell him or I’ll stop.”

“It-“ You paused, swallowing the last of your pride, “It feels good.”

“What feels good?”

“When you touch me.”

“How so?”

You exhaled shakily, shifting in his arm as his fingers softened their movements, “It feels good when you touch my cunt.”

“Sȳz riña.” Good girl, Aemond praised you, causing arousal to spark inside, “That wasn’t so hard, now was it? Does it feel good when I fuck you with my hand?”

“Yes, uncle.” You whined weakly.

“Tell Cregan that it feels good when I fuck you with my hand.”

Blinking at the man tied in the chair, you grit your teeth, “It feels good when he fucks me with his hand.”

Cregans nostrils flared as he shifted in his seat, and your head fell back against Aemond once more, “I’m close.” You panted.

You were so close, so, so close to just tipping over the edge, the smell of Aemond behind you suffocating you as heat began to rise through your body. The gaze of the man before you wavered, his eyes momentarily dipping to where Aemond’s hand was rubbing swift and slick circles. That was all it took for you to feel yourself fall undone.

You writhed against Aemond as your peak washed over you, the Northerner watching on as Aemond’s fingers became wet with your release, his gaze darting up to watch your face, jaw slack as he breathed shallowly.

“Shh, shh, shh. Good girl.” Aemond praised you, his hand finally stopping as he smoothed up and down your sides. 

A warm glow settled over your body and your eyes slid shut, head lolling to Aemond’s chest behind you as you breathed deeply, the pulsing of your cunt halting any and all thoughts that you had. 

But as quick as the calm had come, the quicker it left, your world tilting as you were spun and pushed back onto the bed. Your eyes shot open as you watched Aemond step towards you, Cregan observing with slight concern before you were yanked back down the bed towards the Prince by your ankles, legs splayed open. 

On instinct they tried to close, too exposed to the room, but your husband wouldn’t allow it, standing between them as he held them open with his hand, his lone eye commanding you to stay still from above. 

Would it be painful like the night before? Would he bring you pleasure as well? Or would it be something entirely different now that you lay down on a bed, the way that your Septa’s had told you it would happen, and certainly not inside a dirty alley in Flea Bottom?

But what your Septa’s had not informed you of was that your husband, who seemed to be more concerned with punishing you than bringing you any reward, began to kneel before the bed, his back to his prisoner.

“I need to taste how sweet you are, and then I shall fuck you.” 

With a broad swipe of his tongue, Aemond parted your folds from your entrance to your bud, collecting your release on it as he went. His eye closed as he hummed, coming to lap at your folds once more, pleasure sparking up through you. 

You gasped softly, the feeling foreign but not unwelcome. It was more intense than you had thought it could be, but perhaps you were over sensitive from the release you just had. You watched Aemond, his lilac eye opening to look up at you with a smirk.

He pulled away from your centre, lips wet with your slick, “You are as sweet as I thought you would be.”

Aemond stood, towering over you as he began to pull at his belt and breeches, wherein he began untying them, lace after lace ripped from its eyelet until they sagged. His shirt was pulled away, revealing the pale skin of his lower stomach, and the dusting of hair that trailed down from navel to pubis.

The Prince’s length strained against his breeches, the base of it just showing, a purple vein standing out against his starkly pale skin. You hadn’t gotten to see it properly the night before, and the sight of it made your core clench around nothing. 

Before he pulled himself from the confines of his pants, Aemond grabbed you once more and shifted you to lay sideways atop his bed, the plush green sheets soft beneath your skin. Your eyes rose to the ceiling, looking at the soft canopy that lay atop before the screeching of a chair on stone caught your attention.

You snapped your head to the side, watching as Aemond effortlessly dragged Cregan by the chair closer to the bed, only an arms length away. He towered over the man from Winterfell who looked up at him with nothing but contempt.

“You’ll watch me fuck her,” Aemond began smugly, “And know that it could never be you. Know that it will never be you.” Cregan attempted to sit up higher in the seat, chest pulling at the ropes that held him back, “You’ll watch me bring peak after peak from her as she wets my cock and likes it, and you’ll remember that it was me doing it.”

“Aemond.” You tried to distract him, try to take the attention away from Cregan, who watched with burning eyes, “Please.”

The silver haired Prince turned his head towards you and smirked before looking back at Cregan, “You see? She already begs for more.” Aemond walked back towards you, only two short steps from the bed as his eye roamed your naked body, gaze settling into the crux of your thighs, “She only had me last night, and already she begs so nicely.”

With jerky movements, Aemond pulled his length from his breeches, the length and girth large and intimidating. The tip was a rosy pink, and long veins travelled up its length. A bead of arousal had begun to form on top, slowly leaking down the base as he knelt on the bed, pulling you down to meet his hips, and had you not already experienced it, you would have been filled with fear. 

Aemond thrust into you quickly and sharply, pain filling you before a feeling of fullness, his tip pressing at the end of your walls. You hissed softly, hands having raised to grasp his arms, nails biting into his skin beneath his shirts.

Your husband leant down, lips brushing against your cheek as it moved to your ear, “Do you like when I spear you on my cock?” He purred, his breath tickling your neck. 

With clenched teeth you nodded, willing your body to adjust to his size quickly.

“Use your words, you’re not a mute.”

“Yes.” You grit out, turning your head away from him as he loomed above you, arms on either side of your head as he lay between your parted thighs.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Aemond.”

“Close.

You swallowed, “Yes, Husband.”

“Good.” Aemond pulled out of you swiftly before he thrust back in, “Girl.”

You exhaled sharply, the angle so far different from the night before. He felt deeper, more intense, everywhere all at once. 

It was overwhelming. 

You scrunched your eyes shut as Aemond began to rut into you, your hands not once leaving his arms as you clutched onto him, shifting your hips to alleviate the way his tip pressed harshly against your cervix with each thrust. 

His hips clapped against yours brutally, speeding up, the movement shifting you up the bed as you squeaked with each impact, a warmth beginning to pool in your gut once more. The hair at the base of his cock brushed against your pearl roughly as his pelvis slid against yours, the stimulation winding that all too familiar coil again.

A moan broke free from your lips as Aemond shook a hand free, hoisting up one of your legs atop his hip, shifting the angle entirely so that his cock brushed against the small spongey patch within you deliciously, pleasure sending sparks through your limbs. Your eyes were shut so tightly, you could see stars behind them, your bottom lip gnawed between teeth. 

“Open your eyes.” Aemond breathed from above, his pace not once faltering. 

Your head tipped to the side, away from where Cregan sat, eyes still scrunched shut as you whined beneath him. 

“I said,” Aemond grunted, hand roughly coming to grasp your chin as he turned your head back towards Cregan, “Open.”His fingers squeezed painfully against your jaw, bruises likely to show in the morning, your eyes finally opening to find Cregan watching you already.

“Lord Stark knows how to follow orders. He’s not once taken his eyes off you.” Aemond purred, thrusting particularly sharply into you causing you to wince, “Do you think he wishes he were I?”

Your mouth felt dry again, and all you could do was watch as the blush on Cregan’s cheeks depend and his eyes momentarily flashed away form you before returning, remembering Aemond’s threat. 

“I think he does, sweet wife. I think he wishes that he was in your tight, wet, cunt as I am now. Don’t you agree?” 

Your breasts moved with each thrust, the sound of your slick sliding against his length loud as it was before as you huffed beneath your husband.

Aemond’s fingers tightened against your jaw, “I asked you a question.”

“Yes.”

Another squeeze.

“I do.” You breathed, your face suddenly feeling flushed. 

The man on top of you pulled out suddenly, hands moving under your sides to flip you over onto your stomach.

“Do not-“ You began angrily.

“-Quiet.” Aemond snapped, grabbing your hips as he pulled you up onto your knees, your hands fisting the sheets as you looked ahead, uncertainty filling your features before you felt the head of Aemond cock slide through your folds, and push straight back inside. 

“Fuck you.” You hissed as he began to fuck into you, “Gods.” The angle made you feel even fuller than before, but shallower too, his length constantly batting against your walls as his hips clapped against your ass.

You struggled to stay upright as he continued, his grip on your hips painful as he pulled you back onto him, the air being punched from your lungs each time, making you gasp out small little high pitched huffs. A hand in your hair wrenched your head back and then to the side, directing your face to meet the Stark’s who’s eyes were not on your own, but instead upon your body.

The heat of his gaze caused you to clamp down on Aemond’s length, the Lord’s roaming eyes watching as the Princes cock buried itself over and over inside of you, before slowly roaming back up your body, catching sight of your breasts below you as they moved, and then finally to your face. 

Seeing that he was caught, Cregan flushed, eyes casting down briefly before looking back up at you. He shifted against the chair, hands still tightly clenched against the arm, chest heaving, his thick muscled thighs clenching against the seat, and to-

Oh.

Cregan shifted again, knowing where your gaze had fallen, his hips trying to shift back against the wooden chair, but there was nothing to hide the hardening length within his dark leathered breeches, which pressed painfully to the front of his pants.

Your core clenched again, and from behind you heard Aemond grunt. 

You should have been upset, you should have been horrified, but all it did was set the heat that was already simmering in your gut ablaze, your nipples stiffening to peaks. Instinctually you arched your back, hoping to better the view, which got another grunt of appreciation from your husband, who’s pace was yet to falter, his stamina owed to years of hard work in the training yard with Ser Criston Cole. 

Cregan’s lips parted as he watched you, the pink of his tongue coming out to wet his lips, and that was all it took for you to come undone. You cried out loudly, keeping your eyes on Cregan as Aemond fucked you through your release, triggering his own. He came with a growl, his hips slowing to a halt as you felt his seed pulse inside of you. 

You collapsed against the bed, eyes half lidded as you watched Cregan shift again against his chair as Aemond slowly pulled out of you with a hiss. Warmth dripped from your folds and down your thighs as you felt the soft press of kiss against your shoulder blades. 

Your uncle manoeuvred you on the bed again, your body pliant in his hands as he pulled you to the edge of the bed, legs spread wide for Cregan to see. The man’s pale eyes drifted down to between your thighs, watching hungrily as Aemond’s spend dripped out from within you. 

“Tell me Cregan,” Aemond stood by the bed panting, tucking his length back into his breeches whilst he brushed a loose hair over your shoulder, “Did you enjoy watching me fuck my wife?”

The taunt earnt him a sneer. 

“An honest question deserving of an honest answer. I thought Stark’s were known for the honesty and oaths?” Aemond pressed.

You breathed heavily as you watched Cregan’s gaze fell to you and only you in that moment as his answer was given. 

“Yes.”

There was no denying the edge of arousal that roughened the edge of his answer. 

“Hm.” A beat, “Would you like a taste?”

You brows furrowed as you looked up to your husband, who kept his eye on Cregan, his hand atop your shoulder brushing gently in thought. 

A taste?

Did he mean to-

Your heart leapt into your throat, watching as Aemond took his blade from his side and moved towards the Stark man. 

“Stop!” You yelled, watching as Cregan did not flinch when Aemond approached him. 

“Worry not, I mean no harm. I am feeling generous.” Aemond purred, lifting the blade towards Cregan, “He watched dutifully as I put my seed inside of you.” His lilac eye dropped to Cregan’s hardened member, “And it seems that he has enjoyed it.” The Prince turned to face you, “I only wish to give him a parting gift. Something to remember… to agonise over for years to come.”

With a swift hand, Aemond sliced the ropes that bound Cregan's chest to the back of the chair, the Northerner staying still in his seat. The tall Targaryen bent down and cut the ropes on the mans legs loose, one by one.

“Now,” Aemond stood to his full height again, pointing his blade towards Cregan’s wrists, still tied to the chair, “Know that I have your men in a holding cell, and should you try anything, I shall have them all cut into seven pieces and strung about the gates.” Aemond paused, his gaze hardening, “And then I will stay true to my word.”

Cregan’s chest heaved with anger as he watched the prince, still not speaking a word.

“Do we understand each other?” Aemond questioned him, one silver brow lifted in challenge. 

Cregan’s jaw clenched, a click audible to the chambers, “Yes.” He growled.

Aemond hummed in acknowledgement and released his hands, taking a step back as Cregan stood slowly, rubbing at his raw wrists as he looked at you on the bed. His head turned back towards your husband, uncertain of what he meant. 

Impatiently Aemond thrust his arm towards you, blade still in hand, “Go to her. Taste how sweet she is, and know that you will never taste her again.”

Cregan shifted on his feet uncomfortably, looking to you for permission, for denial. 

You didn’t know what to do, or what to say, so instead, you widened your legs in invitation, feeling desire begin to stir in you once more. 

It was wrong. 

But Gods did you need it. 

“Clean her up.” Aemond commanded, and with slow and cautious steps, Cregan walked towards you.

The scent of Aemond was overpowered by that of Cregan’s. He smelt of cedar wood and fur, and the soft smell of musk beneath it all that just felt right for a Northerner. 

It felt as if each stepped dragged on for days. You shifted against the bed nervously, casting your eyes to Aemond, who watched with a desire of his own.

Cregan dropped to his knees, his hands twitching by the side of your hips on the bed, cautious to even touch you, a stark difference to the way Aemond simply took. The dark haired man looked up at you breathlessly as you gave him a nod, shifting your hips towards him again, likings the way his eyes dropped down to your centre and then back up. 

His large calloused hands grasped the soft meat of your hips, his eyes keeping on yours as he leant froward slowly, the heat of his breath fanning across your sensitive folds. Your mouth parted as you panted above him, watching as he wet his lips before finally pressing a chaste kiss to your core. 

A soft moan escaped your mouth, head dropping back momentarily, giving him a strike of confidence before burying his tongue between your folds. You dropped back onto the bed, hands coming to grasp his hair as he licked and suckled at your folds, lapping at both your and Aemond’s release which only served to spark your desire further, that same familiar coil winding rapidly.

You tilted your head to watch him, his eyes still on you as you began to come undone on his tongue. Your name pulled you away from his stare, and you turned your head to face Aemond who watched hungrily from beside, his jaw tensed. 

Already sensitive from such an intense night already, you writhed against Cregan’s mouth with a moan, his ministrations bringing you to your peak swiftly, your slick gushing into his mouth. You kept your eyes on Aemond this time, watching as he breathed deeply, his cock already beginning to swell in his breeches.

You panted and whined as the pleasure became too much, and only then did Cregan remove his face from between your thighs, roughly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

The chambers became still as you all breathed deeply, warmth spreading through your limbs as you couldn’t decide who to look at for longest. 

Your husband.

Or the Northerner.

All you could think about was what you had done. 

What had just transpired.

Your husband had trapped a Lord of the North in his chambers and forced him to watch you be fucked by him, and not only that, commanded that he cleaned you after. But what was the most confusing part of all, was that all in the chambers seemed to have liked it.

“Cole.” Aemond’s voice broke the stillness of the room, the door to the chambers opening swiftly. 

Cregan stepped in front of you to shield your body from Ser Cole at the same time Aemond did, his back turning to his knight as he grabbed the sheet of the bed to drape over your exposed body.

The knight entered, flagged by two guards.

Confusion flashed across Cregan’s face as he stiffened, body gearing itself up for a fight.

“Relax, Stark.” Aemond mused, not even bothering to look at the man as he observed the guards, eye landing on Ser Cole again, “Take Cregan and his men to the travel roads. Ensure they have food for travel and water for the ride. They are to leave Kings Landing immediately to return back to Winterfell.” 

Ser Cole nodded, as did the guards who swiftly approached Cregan, grabbing each arm as they began to remove him from Aemond’s chambers. The dark haired man looked back at you in confusion as you clutched the sheet your chest, unsure of what to do.

“Stark.” Aemond called out before the dark haired mans foot could cross the threshold. The Northerner stilled, eyes suspicious, “Expect a raven.”

Without another word, the guards pulled Cregan out of the room, Criston shutting the door behind them. The silence in the chambers was nerve-racking, and you turned to look at your uncle, who was already making his way to fill two goblets of wine. 

Your mouth opened, a myriad of questions ready to pour out your mouth, but as usual, Aemond seemed to be one step ahead.

“You’re my wife.” He began, the sound of wine filling goblets. He turned with them in hand, coming to stand beside the bed as he handed you one. 

You kept one hand with the sheets against your breast, the other shakily grasping the goblet, fatigue weighing your body down. Aemond spun to sit in the very chair that Cregan had been tied to, the ropes still on the floor in a heap.

“Our marriage is one of a prospect of peace, not love.” His words stung you in a way you didn’t realise they could, “Though, I do hope to change that one day. I wish to make you happy,” He paused, taking a sip from his goblet as he thought carefully, “And it would be remiss of me to say that what just happened didn’t spark something within me.”

You frowned, “I do not understand.”

“You looked like a Queen having him kneel before you.”

A beat.

“My Queen."

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[captn-trex]

read between the lines

Fox x F!Reader

word count: 8.1k

description: the library is your favourite place to escape to when the galaxy gets too loud, and it just so happens to be the same for a certain marshal commander

warnings: sfw, fox being anxious & being frustrated about it, nervous (kinda non-sensical) ramblings from fox's pov incl. self-deprecating comments (basically projecting my anxiety onto him oops), but it ends cute and nerdy :)

a/n: really wanted to write a fox fic after seeing this post by @welcometo79s about fox being an introvert - I thought the idea was super interesting so here we have an anxious lil fox :) I could yap so much more but my notes are always too long so I'm gonna shut up

Going to the library was one of your favourite pastimes. Especially on a planet like Coruscant, which never seemed to slow down.

You had discovered this little corner of the planet years ago, and you spent more time here than you cared to admit. There were a number of libraries of Coruscant, but none of them as quiet and authentic as this one. You had truly struck gold in finding it, entirely by accident.

The feel of a real book, the feel of flimsi between your fingers, was an experience you relished in this technological day and age. You didn't have anything against technology, it was an integral part of your life and job after all, but holding something so precious and unique in your hands was something else entirely.

This particular library was not very large, though boasted an impressive catalogue of titles nonetheless. You loved curling up by the heater on cold evenings, in one specific cosy red armchair. It was a little more hidden, a reading nook of sorts, and it made the experience feel all the more special. Just you and a book, the outside world, the war, slipping from your mind easily.

In the last few weeks, there was a new regular that had started coming. At first, you were alarmed, his bright red armour alerting you to the fact that he belonged to the Coruscant Guard, but when he picked up a book and settled himself in a window seat, you had relaxed.

You had to admit, you found yourself watching him quite a lot. After a number of times seeing him, you had figured out exactly who he was. It was entirely surprising to you that the Commander of the Coruscant Guard frequented such a place, though he always walked in as if it was exactly where he should be, so you came to respect that.

Going to the library had become part of your daily routine, spending your evenings there as it was much quieter than spending them in your apartment. The people you lived with were particularly loud, not to mention the noise of the city outside the window. However, in the weeks that Commander Fox had begun to do the same thing, you found your reason for going shifting.

You couldn't help but be intrigued by him. You were always too far away to see what he was reading, and he never took his helmet off. You wondered how he could read through it, but you presumed that if it had been made for battle then a book probably wouldn't be a problem.

One day, as he was leaving, you noticed him acting a little odd. He peered around to see if anyone was looking his way, not noticing you at all, and then he pocketed a stylus that the person who sat there before him had left. You smirked, watching him leave the library with a little extra hurriedness to his steps. After that, you decided that you needed to know what it was he was reading all this time, your intrigue finally becoming strong enough.

When you entered the library the next day, he was already sat in his regular seat, one leg stretched out on the seat and the other foot planted on the ground. He held the book in one hand, the other absentmindedly playing with the stylus that he had stolen the previous day. You found the book you had been reading, and made your way towards his position, your stomach turning just a little.

The window bay that he sat in was reasonably large, with a wooden frame and covered with pillows. You made your way to the opposite side from him and took your seat. His head raised from his book quickly in surprise, and you offered him a smile, before opening up your book and finding where you had left it.

Unbeknownst to you, and contrary to your own thoughts, Fox had noticed you. It was hard not to; you were here everyday, and he found you to be distracting, to say the least. He had often watched you sneaking glances at him, the secrecy afforded by his helmet allowing his cheeks to heat up without detection. It was the reason he rarely took his helmet off really, he didn't want anybody to he able to read him, he had a hard enough time conveying his thoughts through words without people watching him try to do it.

Fox had always been somewhat of an introvert, a stark contrast to his brothers. He didn't know how he had ended up not sharing in his brothers’ natural outgoing demeanour, but it was something that affected him constantly. He managed to have a commanding presence and confidence in his work through his rigorous training on Kamino, and he now had enough experience in his role that it felt safe, natural. Though at the end of a long day, when his brothers went out to 79s, he much preferred to be by himself. He craved so deeply to have his own space, and finding this library recently had afforded him some semblance of that.

Fox drew his knee up towards his chest so that he wasn't invading any of your personal space, despite the feeling that that was exactly what you had just done to him. He watched you from behind his visor, intrigued and confused. You didn't look up from your book once, leafing through the pages gradually as you took in the information on them. You were reading something non-fiction, something to do with theories about wild space and beyond. Somehow that surprised Fox - he didn't know what he expected you to be reading but it wasn't that. After his heart had stopped racing at the thought of having to talk to someone, he let his eyes drift back to his own book.

For the entirety of the evening, you didn't talk to Fox, nor did you so much as look at him. He found it to be equally relieving and maddening. He was glad that you both seemed to just be enjoying each other's presence without the need for conversation, but he couldn't understand why you had joined him.

He knew his armour made him stand out among the civilians, and usually people seemed to be scared of him because of it, as if he would arrest them for looking at him the wrong way. It was a blessing and a curse. People left him alone, but he stood out nonetheless. He got what he wanted, but was constantly being perceived in ways he didn't know as he did.

He wondered what your angle was.

When he had seen you watching him, he had initially thought it was for the same reason: that you were scared of him. However, he soon realised that you looked at him with no contempt, no ill-will, and now that you had come and sat yourself within his presence, he was even more interested to know what was going on in your head.

After a number of hours - he had lost count how many - he noticed you rising from your seat. You placed down the cushion that you had set in your lap as you read, and cast a glance over to him. With how he had rested his book in his lap and looked up, it was obvious he was looking at you, and you gave him another sweet smile.

He was overtaken by the need to speak with you. Your kind gestures seemed to be an obvious response to the way he was acting, and that you were respecting the fact that he didn't want to talk. Unfortunately, before he could work up the courage, you had gone back over to the bookshelf and put the book back in its place, leaving shortly thereafter.

Fox sighed audibly, and it came out as a small hiss through the filter of his helmet. Despite liking his own space, he had enjoyed having someone else with him, just sitting in silence while you both focused on your own things. He didn't have that kind of interaction with any of his brothers, they were often far too excitable for him.

He loved his brothers dearly, they meant a lot to him, but being around them all of the time tired him out, and sometimes it was nice to get away from them. He found himself thinking that perhaps he didn't always have to do it by himself. Perhaps it was possible to spend time with someone who didn't drain his energy. Someone like you.

When Fox arrived at the library the next day, you were already there, sat in your regular seat. He watched you for a moment, the corners of your lips lifting as you read something from your book. You looked so kind, so approachable. He didn’t feel as though you were trying to draw him in in any particular way, at least not in a way that would ordinarily have him feeling flustered. It didn't seem that you sought anything that would draw him out of his comfort zone at all. With that in mind, he just truly felt like indulging in your simple company once more, and so he did.

He approached the corner of the library where you were slightly hidden away, and he settled himself in the armchair opposite you. You looked up to watch him do so, and smiled warmly when his visor turned towards you. The crinkles at the edges of your eyes gave away how pleased you were that he had decided to join you, and he relaxed a little, his body moulding into the chair as he opened up his book.

As you had the previous day, you both engrossed yourselves in your books. The worries of today and tomorrow washed away and you just soaked up the words on the page. You were curled up in your chair, a cushion held to your stomach as you often did, whereas Fox had his legs outstretched, one over the other, his hand tucked under his arm as the other held his book. You were both just comfortable.

As the day wound to a close, you flicked your eyes to the clock, and thought that you best be getting home.

Fox watched you raise from your seat, placing the cushion back onto it neatly. His stomach lurched a little, once again feeling the urge to speak to you. He felt exceedingly stupid as he couldn't bring himself to do it, and he was floundering for something, anything to say.

“Wait!” He heard himself say, a little louder than he would've liked, especially for in a library. You turned back to him, your eyes finding his visor as you waited for him to continue.

Fox's brain drew a blank. He couldn't think let alone speak right now. However, you just gave him a patient smile, not expecting anything. It calmed his mind enough to ask a simple question.

“What's your name?”

Your smile grew a little before you replied, you voice even more kindly than he could have imagined - soft, yet assured. He couldn't help but let the corner of his mouth raise a little under his helmet. After a moment, he realised that you weren't asking his name, and his smile dropped, slightly panicking for something to say again. He would've given anything to be as outgoing as his brothers at this very moment, or any subsequent one.

“Well” You cleared your throat as he just looked up at you, and a small smirk wound its way onto your face. “I suppose I'll see you around, Commander Fox” You gave him a little mock salute as you turned away.

Fox could feel his cheeks burning, his mind now in overdrive. You knew who he was the whole time? Somehow he felt especially embarrassed more than anything, and slumped back into his chair with a huff. What was he supposed to say to you now? How much did you know about him? If you knew who he was, why did you sit with him? And why didn't you say anything?

Endless questions swirled around in his head, stopping him from enjoying his book for the rest of the evening. Even as he tried to sleep in his bunk, all he could do was stare up at the ceiling, his cheeks still burning as he thought of how stupid he must've sounded asking your name and sitting by you, when you knew exactly who he was.

He desperately wanted to know what you thought of him. Surely if you knew his name then you'd know other things about him? But what did you know? Had you heard that he was somewhat removed or lonely and thought he could use a friend? Because that would be positively mortifying.

Fox ran a hand over his face. He shouldn't be thinking like this. For all that he avoided them, he cared far too much what people thought of him. He wished he could stop doing that.

Fox had thought about not going to the library the next day, but after a long talk with himself in the mirror, he decided that it didn't matter what you thought of him, and he wasn't going to let it ruin what he had come to know as his little corner of the galaxy.

He was already there when you arrived, as you had come a bit later than usual. That had only struck Fox with an unpleasant feeling in his gut, but he wasn't going to let on.

You slowly approached his window seat with your book tucked in your hands. His head didn’t raise until you spoke.

“Is it alright if I sit with you?”

Fox's head snapped up at the sound of your voice, his eyes a little wide behind his visor. He elected not to speak, and instead nodded his head and gestured vaguely to the other side of the window.

Unlike the last couple of days, Fox was positively unfocused on his book. It was maddening, all he wanted to do was relax, especially after his sleepless night and the stack of flimsiwork that had awaited him on his desk this morning. He couldn't be so lucky, you had to go and distract him. Of course it wasn't your fault, and Fox knew that, he was just annoyed that he couldn't shut his mind off for once second. Ever.

After around 45 minutes had passed, and Fox had finally settled into reading his book, he noticed you watching him, and he internally groaned. He had just started relaxing.

He raised his head to let you know he saw you looking at him, and you smiled warmly before speaking.

“Can I ask you a question?”

That made him nervous, the slight anticipation making his head nod quickly to release it.

“Is your helmet comfortable?” You asked, resting your book in your lap.

Whatever he thought you were going to ask, it wasn't that.

“Uh… yeah, it's fine” He replied awkwardly.

“Cool” You nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer, and opened your book back up.

Fox just stared at you. Was there not any other reason for you asking that? Did you actually just want to know if his helmet was comfortable or not? Why couldn't he stop questioning your motivation for doing anything?

“How do you know my name?” He asked, getting straight to the point.

Your expression was sheepish when you looked back up at him again, and you fumbled slightly with your book, losing your page. You let out a small huff at that, “I don't know, I think everyone kind of knows who you are”

That was probably the worst reason you could have given. Fox cringed, his body folding in on itself fractionally even though he tried to stay rigid and strong.

He looked back down to his book and tried to read, but now it just felt like the awkward silence was swallowing him whole. He couldn't focus on the page, his mind swirling with various words that he tried to string together to reply to what you had said.

After a few minutes of that, Fox was fed up. He practically slammed his book closed and strutted over to the desk to return it, not looking back as he left.

The next night, you were still put out by the Commanders actions. You went to the library anyway, convinced that he probably wouldn't be going, that you had well and truly scared him off. You didn't know exactly why, or rather how, you had done it, but you could tell he'd been frustrated by it. You hadn't hardly said anything to him, but you supposed that you had managed to offend him in those few short words.

Thankfully, it soon slipped from your mind as you curled your legs into your chest and dove into the new book you had picked up today.

If Fox had been embarrassed by you knowing who he was, he was positively beside himself with mortification now. He had blocked it out the entire day, holing up in his ‘office’ and burying himself in his flimsiwork so he couldn't possibly let another thought into his head.

As it got to the end of the day, Fox couldn't stop watching the clock. Time was creeping along at a painfully slow pace, and that was as he was already staying late. It felt like torture, working late just to stop himself thinking. His brain was at maximum capacity, and all he wanted to do was rest.

“Commander” A voice called out, and Fox's head lifted slowly to see Thorn standing in front of his desk, “Maker, you look rough”

Fox scowled, “I thought I told you to knock”

“I vaguely remember you saying that…” Thorn said, a mocking grin growing with each word. “You do know this isn’t a door right?” He said, knocking on the wall that only vaguely separated Fox’s desk from the others.

Fox just rolled his eyes, “What do you want?”

“We're clocking out now, you fancy coming to 79s?” Thorn asked hopefully.

“You already know the answer” Fox looked down at his flimsiwork again.

Thorn huffed, “Come on vod, just this once?”

“I've got work to do” Fox replied.

“That's what you always say”

Fox gave Thorn a tired look, “Another time”

“You always say that as well” Thorn remarked.

Fox sighed aggressively, “Look, I'm really not in the mood for this tonight”

“Alright, alright” Thorn put his hands up in surrender, “I'll get you next time”

“I doubt it” Fox mumbled under his breath as his brother left.

He picked up his stylus. It was the one he had stolen from the library, or more accurately, whoever had left it at the library. He let a sigh escape him. It was filled with mixed emotions, positive memories of the library tinged by his own stupidity.

He twirled the stylus in his hand, manoeuvring it through his fingers. Maybe it wouldn't be the end of the world to go to the library, to seek the respite he so desperately desired. If you were there, he could just ignore you, it couldn't be that hard.

Once that thought had entered his mind and he'd let it grow for just a second, he rose to his feet, grabbing his helmet from the edge of his desk. When he stepped out of his corner, the chattering voices he could hear stopped, and the two remaining clones in the office looked towards him.

“Ah, Commander, you decided to join us after all” Thorn grinned.

“Uh, no. I’m going out” Fox replied, continuing to walk towards the door.

“Where to?” Stone asked, pushing himself from his desk.

“Just- out” Fox replied, much more rigidly than he would've liked. It sounded extremely suspicious coming out.

“Out? Like on a date?” Thorn asked.

“No!” Fox barked back, almost stopping in his place.

“Oh my god, you are” Stone’s expression turned to a broad grin as he dashed towards the door, stopping his brother from leaving.

“I'm not” Fox insisted, a sharp glare directed at Stone.

“You're blushing” He pointed out, which only intensified Fox’s glare. Stone pushed his brother's shoulder lovingly, “Aw vod, I'm so happy for you”

Fox rolled his eyes, pushing past his brother and grumbling to himself as he could hear the two of them laughing at his expense. He loved his brothers, but they really got on his last nerve sometimes.

When he got to the library, it was much later than he usually arrived, which the librarian commented on as he checked out his book. He just gave her a polite nod, not really pleased at his patterns being recognised.

He had planned to just ignore you, but when he saw you sitting in your usual seat, curled up and peaceful, reading your book as if you were the only two things in the galaxy, he couldn't help but feel drawn to you once more. He walked over to you in a few long strides, and cleared his throat. Your head shot up, eyes a little wide.

“Commander” You said, a little unsurely as it wasn't entirely clear if he wasn't upset with you or not. You couldn't tell from under the helmet.

“Please don't call me that” He replied in a somewhat affronted tone, though he must have seen how taken aback you were because he instantly backtracked, “I mean- No, just- Fox is fine, please”

“Okay then” You smiled, “Hi Fox”

Fox returned the smile, even though you couldn’t see it, “May I join you?”

You nodded, gesturing to the armchair opposite you. Fox sat down, leaning forward and clearly not finished speaking.

“I am… sorry, for leaving abruptly yesterday”

You couldn't stop your face from twitching with amusement, “You don't have to be sorry”

“Right… yeah” His hand snaked to the back of his neck on instinct as he spoke awkwardly.

“I do hope I didn't offend you though” You added, drawing your eyebrows together.

“Offend me?” Fox seemed genuinely confused.

“About… knowing who you are” You jogged his memory.

“Oh, no” Fox shook his head lightly. It had sent him spiralling, but you didn't need to know that.

“Good” You smiled sweetly and flicked your eyes back down to your book.

Fox watched you for a moment longer then opened his book, finding his place and continuing on.

What he liked the most about you, not that he knew much else, was that you seemed content just being in each other's space, and not needing to talk to fill the time. Talking wasn't his strong suit, it stressed him out at the best of times, even when he pretended it didn't. Particularly then, in fact. Somehow, without even communicating with each other verbally, this was the most meaningful connection he had shared with someone new in a long time. He didn't know that you thought that way too, but somehow he felt that you did.

Not too long later, the librarian came to tell you both that the library would be closing soon. Fox nodded and stood from his seat, but paused in going to hand his book back in when he realised you weren't moving. You hadn't even looked up from your book.

“Aren't you coming?” He questioned, his voice clearly showing his confusion.

You looked up to him, your lips curling into a smile, “I'm not quite done here yet”

Fox frowned, then sat back down opposite you, his knees spread and elbows leant against them, a stance he often took when questioning someone.

“You'll be chucked out by the librarian” He stated.

You shook your head gently, “I can be sneaky”

“Then you'll be locked in” He tried to find reason in whatever idea you had up your sleeve.

“Eh” You shrugged, “I can pick the lock”

Fox tilted his head. Even though you couldn't see the confusion on his face, you still found the action a little cute.

“You realise I could have you arrested for that”

Fox could see your eyes flash with a small amount of alarm as you remembered exactly who was sitting in front of you, but it was gone as soon as it came, and instead you narrowed them a little.

“Well, that would be a little pointless” You said as if it were obvious.

Fox’s eyebrows raised instinctively, “And why is that?”

“Because you'd have to arrest yourself too” You stated, your eyes sparkling with mischief and a grin overtaking your face.

“Wha-”

Before he could even finish the word, you had jumped up and grabbed his arm, dragging him towards the rows of bookshelves and pulling him in between two of them.

He wanted to protest, but the words were stuck in his throat. He was once again thankful for the shield that was his helmet, because he knew that his cheeks must have been bright red with the way you were looking up at him. Your face bore the widest grin, your eyes crinkled at your own mischief, and he was hopeless to do anything about it now.

Fox’s head was telling him to leave, that breaking the law, something that he dedicated his life to upholding, was not a good idea. Though between your excitement and the secret thrill it was giving him, his heart was aching to stay. So he did.

He watched you as you glanced around and listened out for the librarian. Somehow the only thing in his mind was that if he rocked forwards onto the balls of his feet that he'd probably be touching you, or at least feel the heat of your body. The thought was disturbed when the lights cut out and the librarian could be heard walking nearby. You grabbed his arm again, tugging him down the shelves to hide against the other end.

You were grinning, resting your temple against the end of the shelves and looking up at him.

“Having fun?”

Fox just hummed in reply as he copied your posture, not giving much away. You rolled your eyes, but your smile remained, and you kept listening out for the librarian. Soon enough, the clunk of the outdated technology of lock and key slotting together rang out in the darkness of the library, and you stood up straight, walking back over to your regular spot.

By the time Fox caught up with you, you had turned on a nearby lamp and were already sat back in the chair with your book open. He just sat opposite you, watching you through his visor.

The library was usually quiet, but now it was dead silent, and Fox couldn't help but relish in that fact. Even the sounds of the city couldn't be heard in here. It was an entirely peaceful moment, something he rarely got the opportunity to indulge in.

Fox peered around the library, making sure nobody else was lingering after closing, and then hooked his thumbs under the base of his helmet, pulling it off with a quiet hiss. The noise made your head raise, seeming loud in the quiet environment.

It was hard not to stare. You knew more or less what he looked like, he was a clone after all, but nothing could have prepared you for actually seeing him. His dark curls, streaked by silver, his eyes a dark brown and his battle worn skin. He was gorgeous, so rugged yet so stately, and so unique in his appearance as compared to the brothers of his that you had met.

He noticed you examining his face and immediately went to put his helmet on.

“No!” You called out, a little more desperately than you hoped for. Fox gave you a weary and puzzled look, and you could have melted right there. It was strange to see the emotion on his face when he had always concealed it from you.

“Sorry” You coughed out, a little flustered, “I didn't mean to stare”

Despite your words, you continued to observe him, inspecting his face. Every mark, every scar, every feature drawing you in.

Fox tilted his head to the side a fraction, a small crease forming in his brow, “You're still staring”

“Right, sorry” You looked down to your book and scanned your eyes across the page, trying to find where you had been when you got distracted by the sheer beauty of the man before you. It certainly wasn't helpful to think of it in those terms when you were trying not to look at him.

Fox let one side of his mouth quirk up at your reaction to him. He hadn't really expected you to care all that much, but your darkened cheeks were telling him that perhaps you did. He spoke your name, and the sound of his voice unfiltered by his helmet sent a shiver running up your spine.

“Hm?” You replied, glancing up.

“How often do you stay after closing?”

“Oh, not that often” You shrugged a shoulder.

“Why tonight?” He pressed.

You hesitated, “Well, you didn't come until late, and… I feel like that was kinda my fault”

Fox couldn't help the way his stomach flipped, even if he didn't know exactly why it had. He placed his book down on the table next to him.

“It's not your fault” He asserted, “I had a lot of work to do”

It wasn't exactly a lie, but he wasn't going to tell you that he had been trying to banish you from his head all day.

“But thank you. It's not often that I get to-” He gestured his hand vaguely around the library, “Experience the quiet like this”

“No problem” You smiled, setting your book down as well. It seemed you both were now more interested in each other's company than that of the books you had chosen.

Fox bit the inside of his cheek, a little nervous under your undivided attention. The feeling in his stomach was akin to his usually anxiety around socialising, but it felt different, not entirely unpleasant.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure” You replied, “I'm an open book”

Fox let out a breathy chuckle, the amusement dancing in your eyes letting him know that your pun wasn't accidental.

“What do you do?”

“Like… for work?” You asked.

“Yeah, I guess” Fox shrugged. He didn’t really mind what you talked about, he just wanted to know more about you.

“Um” You looked away, flexing your hands nervously, “Nothing. I mean- you know, nothing interesting… or important”

Fox hummed, giving you a sceptical look, “Something tells me breaking into libraries in the middle of the night isn’t the only illegal thing you do”

“Okay, first of all - I don’t break in, I only break out-”

“Not much better really” Fox shrugged, trying to keep the smirk from his lips unsuccessfully.

”Sure, maybe not” You smirked, “But it’s hardly malicious. It’s nothing like, say… Stealing someone’s private property, such as a stylus or something like that…”

A blush dusted Fox’s cheeks immediately, now knowing you had indeed caught him doing exactly that. He cleared his throat, looking away and trying to find a way to explain himself.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone” You teased, resting your hand on his knee for a second to draw his attention back to you, “Besides, who would I tell? We’ve already established that you’re not going to arrest yourself”

Fox dragged his gaze back to you, the gentle touch only making his cheeks burn hotter. He gave you a weary sort of look, but the edge of his lips curled upwards nonetheless.

“Why did you steal it?” You then asked, devoid of any of the teasing tone you had previously employed.

“Uh” Fox ran a hand through his hair, “Well… I don’t really have anything that’s… Mine”

You gave him a puzzled look, “How do you mean?”

Fox cleared his throat, “I mean… I don’t really have possessions, I share all of my time and my space with my brothers. I don’t have a place that is mine, to put anything that might be mine”

He paused for a moment, conscious that he may be oversharing, but your even gaze, the way you were sitting forward and listening attentively told him that perhaps you didn’t mind. That you were interested in what he was saying.

“I have an office, sort of, but not really. It’s just a tiny area in the corner of the Guard’s office, so it’s a little closed off, and it barely even fits my desk, but- anyway. I just take what I can get I suppose” He wrapped up his rambling.

“I can understand that”

“You can?” He asked.

You nodded, “Yeah, I’ve… never had a space to myself either really”

“You don’t have an apartment or something?” He tilted his head to the side.

“Not to myself. I live with three other people, and they’re very… loud. That’s why I come here”

“Yeah, same here I suppose” Fox smiled, then his face fell a little, “Hold on- We didn’t get to the bottom of what you do for work”

You chuckled a little nervously, “I’m a mechanic”

Fox gave you a dubious look, “That doesn’t sound illegal”

“It’s not” You sighed, “It’s just… my boss is a little dodgy”

Fox took a moment to shift in his seat, trying to appear casual, “What kind of dodgy? Who… is it?”

You just smirked at him, “You’re not getting it out of me that easily I’m afraid, Commander”

Fox wanted to chuckle, but he was also suddenly struck by the fact that he had no reason to believe you had any moral integrity or that you actually were any sort of good person.

“You don’t think they should be brought to justice?” He spoke with trepidation.

You smiled a little, “Yeah, I guess I do, but then I would be out of a job”

“You could get another one” Fox reasoned.

“It’s not that simple” You stated, “I don’t live with three people for the fun of it after all”

Fox was confused, you could see that much woven into the frown he gave you.

“I can’t afford anything else” You completed the thought, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“Oh, right” Fox replied.

Fox didn’t really know what to say. He hadn’t faced that kind of issue before in his own life, so he couldn’t say he fully understood. He wasn't shy of people turning to crime because of money, their were often few other reasons, though it certainly gave a new perspective to the way he looked at his role of what had turned into a short jump from policeman.

“Anyway” You said more cheerily, “It isn't such a bad job, I do get to spend my evenings here”

Fox smiled at that, “How long have you been coming here?”

“A few years” You replied.

It wasn't long before you were talking animatedly, sharing little details of your life with Fox. He could feel himself coming out of his shell the more you talked, enamoured by the way you spoke and the things you had to say. He found himself agreeing with many of the observations you made, even if he didn't say so. It was also hard to ignore how drawn to you he now felt, in a way he hadn't experienced with many others, possibly anyone. He told you details about himself too, a little bit about his brothers, about a book that he had heard of but couldn’t find, about what he does in the Coruscant Guard.

You were explaining a passage of your favourite book, and the way the light was hitting you face was making it hard for Fox to concentrate on your words fully.

“Do you think that was the right thing for them to do?” He asked, a crease in his brow to show his engagement.

“Well, no. Probably not, but that's what the book is questioning” You explained, then noted Fox's slightly dazed expression, “Maybe they should take a page out of your book and just start stealing” You raised your eyebrows a little, and Fox laughed defeatedly, both as his own habits and your terrible library humour.

“I can't believe you saw me do that and still came and sat with me” He joked, the outright sarcasm feeling unfamiliar on his tongue.

“Oh no, that was what made me do it” You admitted a little theatrically.

“Really?” He cocked his head to the side, giving you a genuine disbelieving look.

“Yeah, it interested me. I wanted to know what the Commander of the Coruscant Guard was doing stealing from a library” You chuckled, “It was just… not what I expected, I guess”

“What did you expect?” He asked with a teasing edge, “The armour does tend to give a certain impression”

“Oh no, I would never judge a book by its cover” You put your hand to your chest in mock offense, a smile still pulling at your lips.

He rolled his eyes, “Do you always have such terrible humour?”

“I think it's funny” You shrugged, covering your mouth as a yawn escaped it. You blinked a few times, and it was only then that you realised it was most likely very late. Checking your watch, you saw that it was past midnight and you sat forward in your chair, “I should be getting home really”

Fox was tired as well, but he wasn't ready to say goodbye just yet. Though, he didn't want to keep you if you were tired, and he wasn't exactly fully awake himself.

“Can I escort you back?” He suggested.

You smiled as you stood up, “Sure, that'd be nice”

Fox followed suit, grabbing his helmet, and letting you lead the way to the door, both of you returning your books to the shelf on the way.

“My very own Coruscant Guard escort, lucky me” You muttered, eyelids heavy with sleep as you looked up at him with a smirk.

Fox’s lips formed a similar expression. He rolled his eyes, though it wasn’t as spiteful as when he had directed it at his brother earlier on in the night. He had completely forgotten about the aspect of having to pick the lock, so was a little surprised when you then produced a small tool from your pocket and knelt down, slotting it into the keyhole.

“Should I be worried that you carry around a lock pick?” He asked, placing his helmet over his head.

You let out a breathy chuckle, “I only use it for this. Besides, it's just a regular tool, not specifically a lock pick”

The door cracked open, and you pulled the tool out, placing it back in your pocket.

It was only a few blocks to your home, and on the way you explained to Fox how you had first found the library on an evening stroll shortly after moving into your current apartment, trying to get away from your loud roommates.

You could already hear them as you approached now, music turned up loud and some form of excited squealing spilling from the windows. You cracked open the door, and winced as the noise became ten times louder. You gave Fox a sheepish expression and he chuckled a little.

“I can see why you go to the library” He noted.

“Yeah” You sighed, rubbing your neck, “They’re not so bad really, just…”

Fox nodded in understanding.

You both just stayed watching each other for a moment, neither one of you wanting to be the first to say goodbye. You stared into Fox's visor, hoping to find his eyes behind it, and by some miracle, he understood that, and took it off in one smooth motion.

You smiled up at him as his eyes emerged from beneath the mask, and his heart instinctively skipped a beat. With you looking up at him like that, and nothing to hide his own emotions, he suddenly felt exposed. His stomach erupted into what felt like his usual anxiety-ridden state, but for once, it was more exhilarating than it was scary.

“I'm glad I made you stay behind tonight” You admitted, little care for how odd the words sounded.

Fox chuckled slightly, “Yeah, me too”

There was another moment of silence, and now Fox read it as awkwardness, so he immediately began backing away.

“I- Um, I'll see you around?” He offered.

Your smile faltered for half a second before you replied, “Yeah, see you around”

Fox watched you get inside safely, and then turned on his heel to head back to his quarters.

The whole way back, and well into the night, Fox couldn't get you out of his head. Though, this time he didn't mind.

The following morning, Fox was once again buried in flimsiwork, already on his third caf and ready to pull his hair out.

“Commander” Fox heard the unmistakable voice from the ‘door’ of his office, and he could have easily groaned in frustration.

“I thought I told you to knock” He grumbled, not bothering to look up from his flimsiwork.

“Perhaps you did” Thorn shrugged, a grin evident in his voice, “But you have a visitor”

Fox's head snapped up at that.

“A visitor?”

“Mhm” Thorn confirmed in a somewhat teasing manner, “No idea how she got past security downstairs but, there's a woman asking to see you”

Fox frowned a little, but stood from his desk, walking over to look around the corner. He saw you leaning on Thorn's desk, looking around the office and a book clutched between your hands. You were in a mechanic’s jumpsuit, folded down to the waist with leather gloves tucked into the belt, and seemingly not caring one bit how your appearance made you stand out in the office.

He called your name, and your head turned towards him, along with everyone else in the office that had already been staring at the you, the person who didn't belong. Your eyes lit up a little as you saw him, and you pushed yourself from the desk, striding over to him and Thorn.

“What are you doing here?” He asked softly, leading you into his corner of the office.

“I wanted to g-”

“Actually, hold on one moment” Fox interrupted you, then walked back out into the office to find Thorn and Stone waiting just outside with their ears turned to the wall. Fox rolled his eyes and cleared his throat, making them jump away.

“Could I maybe have some privacy?” He gave them a pointed look.

Both of them mumbled a ‘yes sir’ as they slunk away, brandishing matching smirks. Fox huffed, before returning to you.

“Sorry about that” He ran a hand through his hair, “Are you alright? What are you doing here?”

“I'm fine” You smiled, “I came to give you this”

You held up the book in your hands, offering it to him. Fox eyed it suspiciously, his gaze flicking between you and the book.

“Did you steal this from the library?”

You laughed gratuitously, “No. I thought we established that was your thing”

“But…” Fox frowned, “Did you buy it then? You really shouldn’t have spent your money-”

“I didn’t buy it, it’s mine” You cut him off, “Well, it was mine, it’s yours now”

You tried to hand it to him but Fox just pushed it back towards you, taking a step forward, “I couldn’t possibly take your property”

“I want you to have it” You grabbed his hand and forced him to take it, looking up into his eyes intently.

Fox’s heart stuttered at your intense gaze, aware of how your hand still rested over his as you awaited his reply. He looked down at the book, and turned it over to read the spine. His eyes quickly found yours again, and a grin had bloomed on your face.

“This is it” He breathed out, “The book I was looking for”

“It is” You nodded, finally taking your hand away from his.

“Wh- How- I didn’t even know what it was called, how did you…?”

“I guess I can read between the lines” You shrugged, your grin widening, and Fox laughed, the edges of his eyes crinkling. “I’ve read it a few times” You admitted, then flipped the book open, revealing annotations in the margins, “I went through and pointed out my favourite parts, wrote a bit about why and kinda analysed it a little”

“You wrote these notes for me?” He questioned, his voice sounding unusually small as his brows pinched together.

“Yeah” You gave him a warm smile, “That way, it’s like… personalised for you”

Fox was at a loss for words. You had really listened to him yesterday, and heard how his lack of personal effects weighed on his mind, and now you were giving him something of yours, and you had made it personal to him. His chest spread with warmth, his shoulders relaxing in a small contented sigh.

He let the book fall to his side, and he leaned forwards onto the balls of his feet, so his chest was almost against yours. He brought his hand up and gently brushed your hair away from your forehead, his hand lingering against your cheekbone. Your eyes shone up at him, and a genuine smile crossed his face.

“I'm glad I met you” Fox murmured, his voice low so that only you could hear.

“I know you are” You grinned.

Fox rolled his eyes, “Let me guess, because you can read me so well”

You chuckled, your head tipping to the side in thought, “I hadn’t thought of that one actually. Looks like you’re picking up my novel sense of humour though”

Fox scoffed a laugh, “You’re terrible”

“Maybe” You shrugged, “But I like to think that maybe you don't mind”

Fox hummed, “Perhaps not”

You grinned up at him for a moment, and then stepped back, “I should be getting back really, I'm not supposed to be here”

“You don't have to tell me that” Fox raised his eyebrows at you, “How did you manage get up here?”

“A fun story for another time” You smirked, disappearing around the corner.

Fox followed after you, watching you leave from where he leant in the doorway, when you stopped in your place and turned back to him. You seemed to be weighing something in your head, and then evidently decided to go through with it, jogging back over to him.

Fox raised an eyebrow as you came to stand in front of him, “What is it?”

“I forgot something”

“Forgot wha-?”

Fox was interrupted by you raising onto your tiptoes and placing a delicate kiss to his cheek, your hand finding his to steady yourself. The feel of your hand gently holding his, let alone your lips on his cheek, was enough to set his skin alight. His cheeks were already burning by the time you pulled away.

You gave him a sweet smile, squeezing his hand lightly and speaking in a whisper, “See you later”

Fox watched you go with wide eyes, his body unable to move from where it was firmly rooted to the ground. Your body finally disappeared out of the office, and he let out a breath he didn’t realise that he’d been holding, his body relaxing.

“So you did have a date” Stone nudged his brother, a grin almost splitting his face. Fox just gave him a withering look.

“What did I say about privacy?”

“Well I figured that since you made it everyone's business-”

“I suggest you get back to work, Stone”

“Yep. Got it”

Fox settled himself back at his desk, his fingers trailing along the spine of the book that was now in his possession. His cheeks were still burning, and they probably would be for the rest of the day. He was looking forward to going to the library that night, but it wasn’t for the books this time.

taglist: @darthnihila @cdblake1565

[lacunazai]

I get that tbh so let me give you this:

Drunk and clingy Chuuya who won't let anyone touch him besides his beloved <3

oh drunk clingy chuuya my roman empire ( while writing this I realised gradually that i was not at all prepared to write this evening. oops. ) (( it's fine the post won't get far I think ))

it's just a port mafia party, some celebratory banquet for completing a rather large tradeoff mission. of course chuuya is the one that cracks open the fanciest bottle. the one with a few too many digits and zeros for any normal person to glance twice at. but he's always been an extravagant guy, and the more expensive it tastes the better quality it is. that's what he thinks, anyway.

he doesn't particularly bother trying to limit the glasses he intakes, why should he? koyo was staying sober, so was hirotsu, enough people that he'd be perfectly fine if anything severe happened. might as well enjoy the night as it lasts.

It's when his vision starts to blur that the first problem arises. his movements are more staggered as he struggles to keep his balance - and he lets out an almost embarassingly high pitched whine of frustration to avoid when koyo reaches out a hand to try and help stabilise him.

chuuyas knees hit the ground, a few heads turn, but its nothing too interesting. the executive had been known for not bring able to handle his alcohol too well, after all. It's when koyo leans down to help him up, and her hand is slapped away - that more people have their eyes on the scene before them.

after all, nobody who'd responded to her with violence was treated kindly in the past.

but she knows different. chuuya wouldn't do that to her - the 15 year old she spent nights trying to teach basic table manners wouldn't hit her with aggression in mind. so it had to be something else.

she let's out a gentle sigh as she calls your cell. if anyone had noticed how chuuya has a painful softspot for you, it was her. if anyone could help with a situation like this, it'd be you.

the conversation doesn't last long. a simple polite request for you to come pick him up, to see if he'll let you pick him up. and when you arrive, he obviously sees you before you spot him, a slurred whiny call of your name cutting through the crowd. one that'd have a sober chuuya breaking brick walls with his skull to forget about it.

you move over to him, listening to his unintelligible blabbers as he clings to your leg. the gentle sobs as he nuzzles into the fabric of the trousers you'd lazily thrown on. the whimpers of "I missed you s'much.." "where were you?.." "my pretty thing.."

it takes a moment to get him onto his feet again, feeling his full weight lean into you as you do so. you call a thanks to koyo, hearing her gentle giggle as you lug your boyfriend out of the party. a response of "good luck with him!" rings past the music on the speakers.

getting him home was an effort. dragging him into bed with his entire damn weight on you should've got you an olympics medal. but seeing his hazy eyes search for you, a blubber of your name as he spots you. and those gloved hands reaching like you're the only thing he'll ever need in life. it's hard to stay mad.

you settle beside him in bed, letting him wrap around you like a koala. chosing to not comment on the smell of his breath as he whispers love to you for the simplest things. he's always been sweet to you like that.

you feel the way his hands still as he drifts to sleep. from idly fiddling with your clothes to completely stone on your side. listening to the way his breathing relaxes. he felt so safe around you. it'd always been you. that's how he liked it.

[desceros]

INT DISCORD - EVENING @thejudiciousneurotic: i'm drawing a comic where leo talks about how he accidentally sent someone his nudes me: oh. now i wanna write a fic where leo flirts with you by "accidentally" shooting you his nudes me: ...trade u for the comic thejudiciousneurotic: 🤝 me: 🤝 leonardo/reader, female reader, rated m

You’re having a very nice lunch with April and Casey when your phone vibrates where it rests next to your plate.

neon leon (12:41 p.m.) [image]

Oh boy. What does this goober want?

Normally, you aren’t one to check your phone while eating with others. It’s kind of rude, and you don’t get enough time with the three of you hanging out like this. But April’s busy trying to make Casey laugh so hard his drink comes out of his nose, and—and you’re curious, because it’s Leo, and he’s sent you a picture.

You open the message app, and blink. It's not a meme, or a dorky selfie, or something pretty like he sometimes finds while he's wandering about and shoots your way to share.

It’s… a picture of him. The kind that he’d usually put on his So-Shell, you note, wondering why he’d sent it to you specifically. A little bit of a suggestive pose: his arms curling in just a manner to accentuate the way his arms have been getting big lately, one leg crossed over the other to show off how long they are, fingers framing that smug smirk he gets sometimes when he—

—oh.

Oh, god.

Leo isn’t wearing his mask. Or—or anything, you suddenly realize. No wraps. No socks. 

…Are these… nudes?!

Quickly, feeling your face burn hot, you look up to check in with April and Casey. They’re both still fucking around on the other side of the table. She’s tickling him, he’s giggling. Normal. Normal. They haven’t noticed that you’re a few degrees shy of combustion. Cool, cool. No one’s noticed that your best friend—friend friend just a friend!—has sent you his smoldering-hot naked body.

Quickly, you stop yourself, inhaling deep before you go too deep into it. No, that’s silly. He’s a fucking turtle. So he’s not wearing socks. Or forearm wraps. Or—Or his mask, which you’ve never seen him without before. So it’s a sexy pose in front of a mirror. It’s—It’s not anything salacious, if you don’t make it such. 

You start typing, just the usual compliment that you usually give his pictures on So-Shell, maybe a fire emoji, and—

neon leon (12:41 p.m.) oops! didn’t mean to send that!

neon leon (12:41 p.m.) just uh. pretend i didn’t just accidentally send you a nude. haha :)

“Oh my god,” you quietly whimper. It is a nude. 

The proper thing would be, of course, to do as he asks. Spam a bunch of junk until it disappears to the void of the past conversation. Laugh it off with him. Tell him a joke to make him feel better when he’s probably fucking mortified. 

…A little like how you’re mortified the moment you tap on the picture, making it bigger. 

God damn it. It’s… It’s so unfair how good he looks, you think, biting on the inside of your cheek. He’s finally hit that growth spurt Casey has warned everyone was coming, and he’s just so—so big. Towering over you easily. Putting on muscle like it’s as easy as putting on a shirt. Moving like silk through the air. Comfortable in his skin and knowing he looks good.

A fresh memory comes to mind. How the other day, he’d picked you up in one hand to snag the blanket you’d been sitting on to hand to Donnie where he’d been whining about being chilly. You’d spent the rest of the afternoon uncomfortably wet and turned on, hoping to god his sensitive turtle nose couldn’t pick up on it as he draped an arm on your shoulder for the last half of the movie and pulled you to lean into his plastron.

(...Friends cuddle, right? Totally. Friends totally cuddle.)

Plus he’s just… pretty. The way his cheekbones curve, the markings on his face cutting beautiful lines around his eyes, eyes that you can see without his mask in the way. The breath catches in your lungs as you stare into where they’re half-lidded in the picture, turning the smirk into something sultry. The smirk, framed by fingers that are long and thick and—

“Oh fuck,” you choke, clenching your teeth so hard your jaw aches. 

(...Friends think about getting fingered by their friends, right?! Right?! Oh god, oh fuck—)

“You good?” April asks, finally looking away from Casey who is dabbing at his face and bellowing with agony. Oof, carbonation up the nose. Not fun.

“…I’m so good,” you tell her around the knot in your throat, fingers going tight on your phone. Gah. You have to leave now or else she’ll suss out what’s wrong and you’re pretty sure you’d rather die than admit you’re getting flustered off of Leonardo’s mess up. “Say, uh. I—I have to go to the bathroom. Right now. For a while. I’ll be back.”

You can feel her eyes between your shoulder blades as you flee her knowing eyes, quickly going into the stand-alone bathroom in the cute little café and snapping the door shut behind you. You slump back against it, whipping out your phone and looking at it a bit like it’s a ticking time bomb. 

Which it kind of is, you realize with a sudden terror. You haven’t responded to him yet. He would have seen the little dots where you’d given away you were typing. That you’d had his picture in your face. He knows you’ve seen it. You’ve seen it, and time is passing while he’s sitting there, knowing there’s a fucking nuke on your screen. Oh god. Oh fuck.

Stupid sexy turtle, you think, hands trembling as you compose a very normal, very chill response. You only delete three before you settle on the last and send it.

sent (12:45 p.m.) no worries! i didn’t see anything, haha :)

neon leon (12:45 p.m.) hm. you sure? you sure took a while to respond

Oh god. Embarrassment lights your blood on fire. He knows. He totally knows. Fuck, it feels like he knows how you zoomed the fuck in and had to press your goddamn thighs together beneath the table. Swallowing thickly, you try to do as much damage control as you can. 

sent (12:45 p.m.) i mean, of course i saw it. i was curious!

neon leon (12:45 p.m.) oh yeah? what were you so curious about?

sent (12:45 p.m.) i. you know. i’ve never seen you without your mask. 

neon leon (12:45 p.m.) you know you can ask, right? i’ll take it off for you whenever you want.

You fumble your phone. What the fuck. Is this happening. Quickly, you look up. Yep. You’re still here. A quick pinch reminds you that it isn’t a dream. It’s quarter til one on a Saturday, and your childhood friend has sent you a nude on accident and then said that. 

neon leon (12:45 p.m.) is that something you want? seeing me without my mask?

neon leon (12:45 p.m.) i’d do it. for you.

neon leon (12:45 p.m.) no wraps. no socks. no mask. 

“…Holy shit,” you mutter, feeling a little dizzy. You gape, unsure of how to respond, how to fucking breathe. Then, you nearly jump out of your skin when the phone of your screen fills with a selfie of you and Leo in a photobooth at Alberto Land, feather boas and silly matching heart-shaped glasses stupid on your face. 

Oh fuck. He’s calling you. 

“Where are you right now?” Leo asks as soon as you answer the call, not waiting for you to find your voice, his words velvet in your ears.

Defensive at how you’re reacting, protecting your friendship with him tooth and nail, you claw out of the fog that had settled and made you stupid. You narrow your eyes at the hand dryer next to you. “…Did you actually ‘accidentally’ send me that picture, Leonardo?”

His laugh fills your ears like wine; rich, decadent, intoxicating. Warmth blooms in your chest. “Where are you, beautiful?”

That’s about as close to an admission as you’re probably going to get, you think. The pet name, familiar in shape but foreign in tone, makes your stomach dip. Licking your lips, you try one more time. 

“…Why are you sending me your nudes?” you ask, air catching in your throat, voice quiet but feeling loud in the privacy of the bathroom. 

“Why are you looking at them?” he responds cheekily. You bite down on the snarky response that reflexively comes to the surface; am I not supposed to, goober? There’s something glittering in the air, an invitation for something, and it makes you hesitate. Makes you look at the boundary of the lines you’ve drawn around him. Wonder what they’d look like a little smudged. 

“I… wanted to see,” you admit, feeling a little breathless, wondering if you sound so. If he can tell you’re on the edge of a cliff, feeling a bit like maybe you’re ready to take a step and fall.

“See what?” he asks. Voice lower still. Umbrous. Hypnotic. Tantalizing.

“You. Without—Without your mask. Without… any of it.”

His phone ever so slightly picks up on a sensuous rumble that comes from deep inside his shell. The sound of it makes you shiver, goosebumps rising on your skin. Your eyes fall shut. It’s an easy fantasy, thinking of feeling it in your flesh.

Leo says your name. It’s not a way you’ve ever heard him do so, before. It pricks your attention, hooking into it, pulling it where he wants it. “Where are you?”

You tell him. A second later, your eyes flare with familiar blue light. Two seconds later, your back is against the bathroom door, the sound of the lock clicking loud in your ears as he reaches over and ensures no one will be interrupting.

“Leo, you—!” you gasp, the barest amount of protest that he cuts through as easily as if he’d taken his katana to it. 

“I got tired of waiting. And you want to see,” he says, his fingers finding your chin and holding you in place, his mouth hovering over yours, his breath hot against where you can’t breathe. His other hand finds the curve of your hip, pulling it to meld to his own, his plastron pressing you to the door. “So look while you still can, pretty little thing. Because you’ve got about three minutes before I plan on getting my face between your legs for a long, long time.”

Later, much later, after you nearly bite through your palm trying to keep quiet through the several orgasms he easily eats out of you, after he portals you back to the lair and he pins you to that cursed mirror in his bedroom so you can see how good he looks while fucking you stupid, after he crawls over you in his sheets and slowly curls his fingers together with yours while rolling his hips to get slow and deep to drive you absolutely insane, your phone vibrates again.

This time, you ignore it, fully fucked out, completely disinterested in moving from beneath where Leo’s snoring into your shoulder, having everything you can possibly want within arm’s reach for the foreseeable future.

ayyy-pril (2:19 p.m.) lmao did you fall in?

ayyy-pril (2:19 p.m.) hellooooooo

ayyy-pril (2:21 p.m.) …since leo’s also not answering i’m guessing you’re with him. girl u Gotta let me know when you dip so i don’t worry >:T

ayyy-pril (2:21 p.m.) also. ugh. can you two just make out already? the pining is getting ridiculous. and don’t tell me i’m just imagining things again. i’m sooooo bored by your excuses

ayyy-pril (2:21 p.m.) grabbed your leftovers for you. love you ttyl byeeee

[storm-angel989]

Hi! Are you taking requests? If so, may I have a part 3 of Reader disobeying pls? I just finished part 2 and honestly, if I was her I’d still flinch when Valentino was around, and maybe find a way to sneak in some extra food or cash to any of his “workers”, maybe even working a little too hard as a way to distract herself from potential flashbacks. (I just want the Vees to feel regret over how they handled her behavior…😅😏)I’d really appreciate if you’d put those points in it too! God this is getting long I’m sorry! Either way, hope you’re doing well and I can’t get enough of your work!!!

I am always taking requests! And working on them. I actually had a plan to edit like six other requests I've written and instead I read your request this morning and well....the muses visit when then visit. So as with every single time I make a plan, I tossed everything I had wanted to write and edit today aside to write fourteen google doc pages to complete your request.

Oops! Hope you like it! =)

<3 Mandy

They say silence speaks volumes. 

As the third week of volleyball practice passed, I wondered if anyone in my family had gotten the message. 

Four weeks ago, desperate to try to independently earn my own money, I was inadvertently hired at one of my Uncle Valentino’s clubs. He found out, pulled me out, and I was grounded until further notice. As punishment for pretending to be at volleyball tryouts, they signed me up for eight weeks of the sport. Frustrated after the first practice, I spat out words I didn’t mean, and my family decided that it was time I learned exactly what a privileged life I led. 

It was eye opening and terrifying to see exactly what it was that my Uncle Valentino did. Although it was never outright discussed, from the morning I spent with him in his dingy hotel office, watching him process and contract souls both male and female, and the lineup I saw them go through afterwards, I came to the conclusion that sex work, drugs and Uncle Valentino went hand in hand. 

For the first time in my life, I saw the darker side of my family. The control my father, Vox had over the city in terms of technology and electricity. The hold my Aunt Velvette held over not only the fashion industry and social media- but on all goods imported and exported throughout the pride ring. And Uncle Valentino- every soul that passed through hell went through him first. In exchange for basic survival, he thrust souls into either his clubs, Velvette’s stage, or Vox’s office. He kept them hooked on the drugs he sold in exchange for their labor, for their bodies. 

After all, it took a thousand unpaid hands to run hell. 

The deeper I dug, the more afraid I became of the only people I knew as my family. I spent my study halls researching, reading blogs and articles about them. Known as the Vee’s, the three of them truly were the most powerful overlords in hell. They had their hands in and controlled everything that went on in the pride ring. Gone from my mind was the softness that I knew them for. In its place was this image of their true selves. 

Photos of Valentino with razor sharp teeth, a single one glinting gold, my father as electricity surrounded him and Velvette, surrounded by swirls of purple took the place of those memories. 

I began to dread going home, dread getting into the limo with Uncle Valentino after each practice. But there was no way out. No sneaking past him, or any of them. I was suddenly aware of just how many eyes I truly had on me every single moment of the day. It didn’t matter if my father did someday decide to inject a tracker into my skin. Not when he controlled every camera on every corner of the pride ring. 

I took to hustling from my last class of the day to the girls locker room to get ready. On the days I didn’t have practice, I found myself inadvertently taking his advice to get stronger by either working out in the school gym or swimming laps in the pool. My body was tired, but at least it gave me an excuse to be away from them. 

I took my sweet time getting dressed  and by the time the rest of the girls joined, we needed to be out on the gym floor. As always Valentino was perched up atop the bleachers, either talking on the phone or typing on his laptop. As soon as practice was done with, he met me at the locker room door to escort me out to the limo. 

“How was your day, bebita?” He would ask.

As if he actually cared. Besides, what did my day matter when he had thousands of other women's lives he was destroying? 

“Fine,” I would reply. 

Short one word responses. Answering questions as he asked, but giving no more than he demanded. I tried not to look at him, and instead kept my nose buried in whatever textbook I happened to have in my backpack that day. Three weeks. Three weeks of going through the same routine. 

Now, as I stood just around the corner from the dining room, I could hear them talking over breakfast.

“Vox, I’m worried about her,” Valentino said as he sipped his coffee. “She doesn’t speak. She goes to school, to practice or to the gym, comes home, eats dinner and goes to bed.”

“I mean, isn’t that sort of what we asked of her?” Velvette asked. “The whole point of this was to show her just how fortunate she is.”

“I’ve seen enough broken people in my life to know when something isn’t right,” Valentino retorted. “She’s quiet. She’s definitely losing weight. And she looks like she hasn’t had a good night's sleep since this whole thing began.” 

My father seemed unconcerned. “I’m sorry she had to learn the dark side of hell. I guess it’s a punch to the gut when you realize life isn’t all sunshine and butterflies. She had the privilege of living the first sixteen years of her life in blissful ignorance. Let her stew. Let her be mad. As for her body changes…” he shrugged. “She’s more active now. Hitting the gym. Playing volleyball. Losing weight is expected. She’s eating dinner with us, so I’m not worried. She’s just mad.”  

“I don’t think she’s mad, Vox,”  Valentino replied slowly. “I think she’s afraid. Of us.”

Velvette rolled her eyes. “Valentino, do you hear yourself? That’s ridiculous. She has no reason to fear us- we’re her family for christ sake we would never hurt her. She knows that.” 

“I’m just saying,” Valentino shrugged. “Maybe Vox should have a talk with her.” 

Vox sighed. “If it would make you feel better, send her up to my office when you two get home tonight, alright? We’ll have a little father daughter heart to heart.” 

Quietly, retreated to my bedroom. Discussion? No. I had read enough at this point to know that my father specialized in mind control. I didn’t want to be any part of any conversation that involved my father, or any of them for that matter. 

And worse? There was no way out of this cage they built. 

“Babydoll! Breakfast!” I heard my fathers voice call from down the hall. 

I could feel the bile rise up in the back of my throat. I swallowed it back and picked up my backpack. I had no desire to sit down and have breakfast with these…monsters. But he couldn’t know that I knew. 

“I’m not hungry,” I called back. “I’ll eat at school!” 

I heard his heavy footsteps fall as they made their way down my hallway. I shrugged my backpack over my shoulders and pushed my bedroom door open to where my father stood on the other side, arms crossed. 

Fear wrapped around my heart as my mind flashed back to the images of him I had seen. My father. A murderer. A control freak. 

“Hey, honey? Are you feeling okay? You look a little pale.” He said as he reached his hand out as if to touch my forehead. 

I jumped back and looked away. The article said to avoid his eyes, if at all possible. 

“Yeah, I- I’m fine. I’m just running late, I’ll see you later. Bye.”

I pushed past him and hurried out towards the elevator door. 

“Practice, after school!” He yelled behind me. “Uncle Val will pick you up.”

“Got it,” I said as I stepped into the elevator. 

The school day passed too quickly. Anxiety clenched my stomach with each passing hour, making concentrating or eating next to impossible. By the time I trudged my way to practice, my head ached and my ears were ringing. I tried to ignore it and sipped on my water as I jumped into the routine. Ten laps. Stretching. Mini games. 

Maybe it was from not eating. 

Maybe it was from dehydration or lack of sleep. 

Maybe it was the anxiety from the realization that the people I loved the most in this world were not good people. 

Whatever reason it may be, I jumped to spike a ball and when I landed, a loud snap echoed through the gym. Instantly, I was on my side as pain shot through my body. 

The game came to an immediate halt. Two of my teammates helped me over to the bleachers as the coach talked to me quietly and gingerly pulled off my sock and sneaker. Dark bruises wrapped like a handprint around my ankle. I could feel Valentino’s eyes on me. When I looked up, he stood behind the crowd, concern scrawled over his features. 

Or at least, what looked like concern. He was pretty good at faking it, after all. Just like he did in his office that day. With those girls. Around me, my teammates fawned. 

“I’m fine,” I said through gritted teeth.

“You’re not. Rosa, go grab her backpack,” the coach replied and waved towards one of my teammates. “You’re going to have to get this looked at,”  She turned to look at Valentino. “Do you want me to call an ambulance or…”

“We can take care of it privately,” he replied calmly as he slid his arm under mine. “Lean on me, Bebita…”

“No,” I said sharply.

He gave me a quizzical expression. 

“No..I, I just need my backpack. And maybe my teammates can help me. Uncle Val, can you just have the limo pull around the front?” I said quickly.

He eyed me but took the backpack from my teammates hands and walked ahead of us as two of the other girls slipped their arms under me. Together, we hobbled our way out the front door and Valentino waited as I carefully got into the limo.

“I’ll be okay, I promise,” I told them before Valentino got in. “I’ll text you tonight.”

The second the door closed, I scooted as far away from Valentino as I could. Now that I was out of everyone's sight, the pain radiated through my ankle at full force. 

“Put your leg up on the seat, let me take a look,” Valentino said gently. 

“No, keep your hands off me,” I snarled as I pressed further away from him. “I’m fine. Just give me an ice pack. I have the gym tomorrow and practice on Wednesday. I’m fine.” 

“Honey, that ankle looks broken,” he said softly. “This punishment isn’t…”

“You’ve made it very clear what you’re capable of, don’t fucking touch me,” I snapped. 

To my suprise, he pulled away. 

“At least put it up on the seat. Elevation, until we see the doctor,” he replied. “I’m calling your dad now.”

“Don’t bother, I’m fine.”

He didn’t answer. As soon as the limo stopped, he lifted up my backpack and offered his arm. 

“You can’t walk on that,” he said quietly. “Please let me help you.” 

“I’m fine,” I replied as I stepped out good foot first. 

Pain shot through me the second I tried to put weight on it and to my dismay, I felt Valentino’s arm under me. Without a choice, I leaned on him as we walked into the V tower. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said with a little more firmness. “We’re going upstairs to the nurses office and…”

“I’ll pass on going into your studio,” I snapped as the elevator door opened. “Just leave me alone.”

“Hey, what’s going on here?” My father asked as he stepped out of the elevator. “Val, why aren't you carrying her? If it's broken, she shouldn’t be walking on it.”

“She wouldn’t let me,” Valentino replied sharply. 

“Enough of this crap,” Vox hissed with a roll of his eyes. “Since when do you let your teenaged niece boss you around?” 

He walked to the other side of me and slid his arm under mine. 

“No, Dad. Don’t! Let me be, please!” I begged. 

“You’re hurt. Why are you acting like this? Why won’t you let us help you?” He demanded as he lifted me up into his arms. 

I closed my eyes tightly. I felt him move and heard the elevator door close. 

“Reader? What are you doing?” He asked. For the first time, I heard concern in his tone. “Why are your eyes shut like that?”

I didn’t answer. 

“I told you..” Valentino said softly with a sign. 

“I asked you a question,” Vox said as the elevator door pinged again. “Reader. Answer me. Your Uncle Val seems to think you’re afraid of him. Afraid of me. Is that true?”

I didn’t answer and instead kept my eyes tightly closed. The familiar scent of strawberries filled my nose, but instead of the usual comfort, all I could feel was fear. Each step he took brought me closer to where I was sure I would be drugged, sure I would be hypnotized, sure I would be forced into…

My thoughts were interrupted as I felt my father lay me down on one of the beds. I heard the curtain pull shut and footsteps walk away.  I opened my eyes ever so slightly. Sure enough, the familiar bright lights shone back at me. I was in the nurse's office in Valentino’s studio. 

And I was alone. 

I pushed myself upright and assessed myself. Every part of me ached and my ankle throbbed painfully. Tears welled up in my eyes, tears and I tried to bite them back. The sound of the curtain being pulled back and I shut my eyes tightly. 

“Would it make you feel better if you got a little honesty?” My Aunt Velvette’s voice floated across the room. “Don’t worry. Both your Dad and Uncle Valentino are talking to the doctor. It’s just us.”

“You guys are monsters, why should I trust any of you?” The words came out of my mouth before I could stop them. “You lied to me my entire life, you…”

“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” Velvette perched herself on the edge of the bed. “Sweetheart, we live in hell. The people who come through…”

“Don’t deserve to be sold as sex slaves,” I said angrily. “Or forced to work as models, or stuck under hypnosis by my Dad or…”

“Is that what you think we do? Where do you get your information from?” She asked with amusement. “Not for nothing, but there are a few things wrong with your theory.”

“Oh, so Uncle Valentino isn’t in the sex business? He doesn’t sell drugs? You don’t control the product distribution and my father doesn’t control every single bit of technology and electricity that exists in the pride ring?” I said as I pushed myself more upright. 

“No, those things are true. And what we do at its core is probably more wrong than right. But we’re not monsters. Valentino isn’t selling these women- his contract provides an out. A consent clause. I could choose to cut off production and supplies at any given point. But I don’t. And your father…well, your father wouldn’t use his powers on you unless the circumstances were extreme. And I do mean extreme,” Velvette said softly. “And none of us would intentionally hurt you.”

I felt my anger grow. “You decided that because I wanted to make my own money…”

“No,” she cut me off. “That wasn’t why you got in trouble to begin with. You got in trouble because you lied to us, took your tracker off and decided to go work in a sex club. And yes, we enrolled you in volleyball and yes, you made a snarky comment that scared the shit out of Valentino. I’m not saying how he and your father reacted was right, but I am telling you they love you dearly.” She leaned forward, “someday you too will be an overlord in hell. Someday you too will have the responsibility to these souls that we have. It’s not going to be perfect. And it’s not always going to be right- we live in hell, sweetheart. Handling the darkness is part of what we do.”

I was quiet as I considered her words. A few moments later, the doctor walked in, followed by Vox and Valentino. Velvette stood up and the doctor looked over my ankle. 

One x-ray later, a broken ankle was the diagnosis and an orthopedic specialist was on his way.

“Sweetheart, when was the last time you drank anything?” Vox asked as the nurse looked over my veins.

I stayed quiet as the nurse wiped the crook of my arm. Normally, Uncle Valentino would be the one to put an IV in. But now that I knew why he was so damn good at it, I didn’t want his hands anywhere near me. 

“I’m going to try to do this in one shot, but your veins are pretty small,” she told me. 

I winced as she stuck and restuck me. The third time she pulled the needle out, I burst into tears. 

“No more, I can do it without pain meds, I swear!” I sobbed. “Please, just stop.” 

Valentino handed me a tissue and gave the nurse a writhing look. 

“Leave it,” he growled. “You’re done. Either get someone competent or…”

“Uncle Val, stop. It isn’t her fault! I’m the idiot who didn’t drink all day!” I sobbed. “Just stop!” 

He reached forward as if to take my hand but seemed to think better of it. 

“Show me your arms, bebita. Please?” He asked quietly. 

Hesitantly, I showed him both my arms and he carefully studied the veins. 

“I can probably stick you, if will you let me?” He asked softly. “Please, conejito. You don’t want him to set it without some sort of relief. It isn’t good for your body to be under that much strain.” 

I closed my eyes. The pain was increasing with each passing moment. He was right- I couldn’t take much more of this. Ever so slightly, I nodded my consent. 

True to his word, a single pinch later and I could feel the cold saline seeping into my veins and the pain slowly eased up. Nausea washed over me and the bile from earlier crept back up my throat. I felt my father’s hands pull my hair back and Valentino shoved a bin onto my lap. I coughed as I emptied what little was in my stomach into the basin. 

“You’ve been pushing yourself too hard,” Vox said as he braided my hair back. “I knew you didn’t look good this morning.” 

“I just didn’t have time to eat today,” I whispered. “It’s fine, I’m fine.” 

Valentino visibly bristled. “You are very much not fine. You…” He let his voice trail off and instead brushed the hair out of my face. “I’ll get the nurse to give you something for the nausea. After that, if I get you saltines, will you eat them? Maybe drink some apple juice or ginger ale?”

I shook my head no. “I’d rather have an apple or fruit or something. And water.”

“Not on a sick tummy, crackers or dry cheerios,” Velvette interjected with a shake of her head. “You don’t do well with anything else.” 

Defeated, I closed my eyes as I listened to both their footsteps walk away. How was it that these three, that all I read about them, all that I knew…were tending to me so carefully? That the same man who sized demons up and down, sold drugs and made a deal for their soul would ever so carefully slip a needle into my arm? That my father, the overlord of technology, would hold my hair back as I got sick? I couldn’t wrap my head around it, around the stark difference between the demons I grew up with and what I saw in Valentino’s office. The demons who were in the hospital room with me now, and the ones I read about on the internet. 

“The nurse is coming by with zofran,” Valentino said as he pushed the curtain back. “It will help settle your tummy. Velvette went upstairs to grab you something to nibble on.” 

“I don’t get it,” I said softly. 

“What don’t you get?” Vox asked. 

I hesitated. At that moment, the nurse came in and Valentino plucked the vial from her hands. She set a cup of apple juice on the table and he shooed her away. 

“Just for the nausea,” he explained as he injected the line. As soon as it was in, he picked up the cup of juice and lifted the straw to my lips. “Sip, then talk to us. “We’ve always had an open discussion in this family. What’s bothering you so much?”

I took a sip of juice and swallowed. “You, and Dad and Auntie Velvette, what you do is just wrong,” I said finally. “You hurt people, you punish people, you…Dad, you use mind control to literally take over companies, Uncle Valentino you sell drugs and Auntie Velvette she…she literally ruins people’s lives on social media and decides when and where there will be supply shortages and it isn’t okay! And then you turn around and treat each other and me like…like this!” 

“Woah, woah woah,” Vox said softly. “Where did you learn all that?”

Valentino crossed his arms and gave Vox a ticked off look. “What did I tell you? She should have never gone with me. I told you, I fucking told you!”

“Damn it Valentino, calm down. She was bound to find out the truth sooner or later. Now it’s up to us to sort fact from fiction,” Velvette said as she pushed the curtain back. She pressed a bag of cheerios into my hand, “here. Nibble on these.” 

“I don’t want to,” I said as I rubbed my eyes. “I…”

“You need to get something in your tummy, otherwise you won’t feel better,” Vox said, “Just a little. And listen to what we have to say, okay? Can you agree to that?”

Without seeing any other option, I nodded and put a cheerio in my mouth. My father looked to Valentino and Velvette.

“We..shouldn’t have introduced you to our work lives that way. I shouldn’t have made you…I should have done things differently, I’m sorry.” Vox said quietly. “You didn’t need to see your Uncle Valentino in that role. I wish I could take it back.”

“You’re not going to hypnotize me, are you? Make me forget?” I asked fearfully. “Daddy, I…”

“No, no no…no. Absolutely not,” he replied quickly. “No. You're my daughter and I wouldn’t do that to you. Not now, not ever.”

“So it is true. You can do that. I mean, I always sort of knew what you three were. Sort of knew you were hot shot overlords, but I didn’t realize that…how bad you…” 

Vox held up his hand. “The things we do, we do them because that is our job. We do our best to balance the good and bad in hell. We’re not without compassion, but we have a job to do. A job that provides housing, food, clothing, basic necessities to both hellborn and fallen. There are downsides to things and maybe, maybe when you’re a little older you’ll have different ideas, ways to do things better. But for now, this is our job.” He swallowed. “My mistake was trying to teach you a lesson, and mixing the life we’ve built at home with the businesses we run each day. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I hate that I made you so afraid,” Valentino added quietly as he sat down on the bed next to me. “Princessa, you are my little girl. You always have been. I don’t want you to flinch away in fear. I’m sorry for what you saw. And I’m sorry I frightened you so, so badly. How can I show you I’m not…how can I show you you don’t need to fear me?” 

I swallowed. “Uncle Valentino, let me…I want to be more involved in this business. I want to learn the process myself, understand it for myself.” 

The three of them exchanged glances. Hesitantly, I saw my father nod. 

“Alright, fine. We…we can do that. But not just Uncle Valentino’s responsibilities. All of ours. And…” he sighed. “And I’m going to put you on the payroll. Checks deposited into a private account with just your name on it. That’s what started this entire thing anyway, isn’t it?” 

“Dad, why do you look so upset? Shouldn’t you be thrilled that…”

“Thrilled?” Emotions rushed across Vox’s face, a mix of pain and sadness.  “You think I’m happy knowing we made you so afraid, so terrified of us? I worked so hard- we worked so hard so that you could have a normal childhood- a life without care, without worry. I wanted you to not have to go through the struggles we went through when we were sixteen, I wanted you to enjoy…I wanted you to enjoy being sixteen.” 

For the first time in my life, I saw my father looked defeated. 

“You know, she doesn’t have to give up being sixteen,” Velvette said as she put her hand on Vox’s shoulder. “We can start to introduce her to the family business and let her enjoy school and let her do all the stuff we didn’t get the chance to do.”

“She’s still your ninita, and you’re still her Papito,” Valentino added. “Besides, we’ve always had an open door policy.” 

“Daddy, what was your childhood like? Auntie Vel, Uncle Val I…”

At that moment the next doctor walked into the room. I groaned inwardly as he introduced himself to the adults in the room. 

“You’re a lucky girl,” he told me as he hung my x-rays. “You missed requiring surgery, but setting it will be painful. I’m going to have the nurse give you a dose of something extra strong so you don’t feel anything.” 

“Just, just give the vials to my Uncle Valentino, he can do it,” I said hesitantly. 

“You sure, bebita?” Valentino asked as the nurse brought over the supplies. 

I nodded and watched him wash his hands and pull on gloves for the second time that day. “What..will you tell me what you’re giving me?”

I saw his expression soften. 

“Of course, bebita,this first one is for pain,” he said soothingly as he uncapped the vial and slowly pushed down on the plunger. “Now before I give you the next, tell your Dad what color you want your cast. You can have any two colors you choose.”

“Purple and red?” I asked hopefully as I looked at him.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” Vox assured me. He sat down on the bed next to me, took my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I love you.”

“I love you too Daddy.”

“This next one is going to make you not care about what the doctor is doing or anything else that happens for the next few hours,” Valentino continued. “Once this is in your bloodstream, you’re going to feel a little sleepy. Just relax, when the doctor is done we’ll bring you upstairs to your own bed, okay?” 

Velvette perched herself on the bed next to my father and patted my uninjured leg. “Don’t worry sweetheart, once we get you all patched up we’ll make a plan. No more secrets, okay?”

I nodded and let the drug Valentino pushed into my body start to work. True to his word, I wasn’t exactly sleeping, but I certainly didn’t care too much about what the doctor was doing. The next thing I knew, I was snuggled into my own bed with my father sitting next to me. 

“Sleep, babygirl,” he said softly. “We’ll talk more in the morning. I promise.”

I felt my eyelids grow heavy. Maybe I could trust them after all. 

[yelenasdog]

vibrant, saccharine, his ☼ (fwb!mat barzal x fwb!fem reader) 

genre: filthy smut, fluff, angst with happy ending

summary: pretending is getting harder, for both of them. and after a hard roadie, mat’s not sure if he wants to pretend anymore.

words: 8.7k (WOAH)

warnings: cursing, excessive use of parentheses, friends with benefits arrangement, smut, unprotected piv, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, blood (reader bit lip too hard oops!), pet names (baby, sweetheart, pretty boy), reader is described as having sisters and a dog, food mention, idiots to lovers, misunderstood situation, reader uses she/her pronouns, and i think that’s it.

a/n: when i started this, i originally was just writing a blurb and then it turned into a full ass fic with a plot?? and fwb??? idk man, im nervy to post this since ive never published for nhlers before but oh whale! and ty to @eminems-skittles for reading this for me and checking it over 🤍 love u

“You played so good, baby.” She breathed, welcoming him home with open arms.

“Not good enough, apparently.” He responded, letting her fingers card through his raven locks. Soft, freshly cut. She loved when he grew it out, but yet again it was him, so anything worked.

She sighed, letting her thumb fall to his cheekbone, knowing what he was referring to. It had been the last stop of the road trip, he’d had a hatty and despite making it to OT, it wasn’t enough in the shootout.

He’d had to wait an entire flight and car ride afterwards to see her, only giving her a brief text when he got off the ice (“We lost. Had a hatty. Fucking Toronto.”) (like she hadn’t stayed up to watch the game) and another when he landed.

And after so long of whatever the two of them had going on, she’d known better than to try to send him some long and winded attempt at a pick me up message. She settled for just responding “I’ll be here.” She didn’t need to say it though, he knew she’d be there.

She always was.

To anyone else it would’ve been sad, how she waited up for him, late nights spent lonely with just her and her dog, as he jetted around North America. In her mind, he was no doubt giving himself away to whatever random puck bunny threw herself his way.

Despite this, she was loyal, even though she had her suspicions about what he did when they were apart. And frankly, it wasn’t a part of the “deal” that they had to be exclusive, and it was none of her business. But truthfully, after so long, she couldn’t count on some washed up juniors player to give her even a fraction of the satisfaction he had.

So, she did this whole routine, whatever this was. She stayed up late watching his games, sitting on her couch in his sweatshirt he left. She wouldn’t admit it out loud, but whenever she wore it, she liked to pretend.

Pretend that she was an obedient girlfriend wearing her loving boyfriends sweater. That as she sat curled up waiting on the corner of the beat up black sofa, 3 coffees in at approximately 1:37 am, she would be rewarded for her efforts come morning time.

That her and said loving boyfriend would lounge around together in bed (after he woke her up in the best way he knew how, showing her how grateful he was. Like I said, she loved when his hair was long enough to tug on, and even though she endlessly made fun of his patchy stubble, she couldn’t deny how delicious it felt burning between her thighs. Especially after they’d spent so long apart.) Then they’d go and grab late brunch, holding hands under the table as they sipped mimosas, which were Mat’s guilty pleasure only her and the waiter knew about, before heading home.

Maybe then they’d FaceTime his mom back in Coquitlam, an early riser with the 3 hour time difference. Mat had felt bad interrupting her morning routine, but she’d never pass up an opportunity to talk to her boy and the girl who she hoped was her future daughter in law.

After they got off the phone, she’d tell him how much she loved his mom, how her cheeks hurt from smiling so much. He’d tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, watching as she leaned into his touch.

“Missed you, Mat.” She’d say, closing her eyes.

“I missed you more.” He’d respond, his voice nearly a whisper. Her eyes would flutter open, and he’d recognize the look in them immediately. He felt his blood rush, and suddenly their proximity, which he’d never get used to, was very obvious.

“Oh yeah?” She asked. “I doubt that.”

He swallowed, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. Her eyes hungrily swept over them, wanting nothing more than to lean forward and capture them with her own.

But patience is a virtue, she supposed.

“Want me to prove it, pretty boy?”

Words failed him, and all he could do was nod. He relaxed into the sofa, watching as she dropped to her knees in front of him. Her hands were on either thigh as he fought the urge to lay his tired head back onto the beat up pleather behind him. It had been too long, he thought. And he’d be damned if he was going to miss out on seeing her do what he’d only imagined in the shower, or over the phone for the past 16 days.

She reached her hands up from the muscle of his thigh up to his tummy, her cold hands shocking him as she reached under his sweatshirt- the same one she’d been wearing before.

Her hands drifted, down, down, down, to the waistband of those damn Lululemon shorts she’d got him for Christmas. He held his breath, watching as they danced around where he needed her most and then-

The doorknob turns, and she’s brought back to reality. Sleep had almost claimed her, iced coffee left abandoned on the coffee table, a ring of condensation already drying on the glass. She attempts to smooth out her hair, hoping that her brief almost-nap hadn’t left her too disheveled.

Not that he’d care.

She stood to greet him as he opened the door, hockey bag, and garment bag, and duffle bag, and backpack, and- God, did he really need all that- and suitcase, dropped unceremoniously as he entered the threshold. He kicked the huge bag to the side, and it landed right under where her keys and her leash for her old mutt, Warrior, hung from the wall.

Above the leash hung a picture of her and her sisters, with her running shoes on the floor beneath it for easy access. They were nearly squished by the gear, and if it had been anyone else’s shit crushing her 160 dollar sneakers, she’d be angry. But the sight of his bag near her shoes was so weirdly domestic, she could’ve cried.

She, yet again, was snapped out of her fantasy by the closing of the heavy door, watching as the man in front of her shuffled forward, immediately allowing himself to be held by her. His head fell to her shoulder, and rather than the usual clash of teeth and shoving to get to her room, (they never went to never his place after a roadie. He needed to be away from the constant reminders of it all for awhile, just to be surrounded by her) she simply dropped a chaste kiss to his temple, letting her arm drop from his hair to his broad shoulders, squeezing once, twice, three times, on either one.

He stood up, and she led him to her room, though he knew the way well enough. Her hand in his felt nice, comforting, even, and he wasn’t going to complain. In the beginning of the arrangement the two of them had, touches like that had been normal. But as time went on, the barely there brushes and gentle caresses stopped all together.

He wanted to say something, wanted to ask her what was wrong, if it was something he did. But when he was off the ice, Mathew Barzal was not a man who liked to push his luck. So he didn’t. He let the touches slip away, and took what he could get from her.

Which right now, was toeing off his shoes, and crawling onto the plush comforter of her bed. It smelled like that sparkly ”fairy dust” shit from Lush he saw sitting on her bathroom counter once, cotton candy and bubblegum infiltrating his senses. That, and her favorite floral perfume he was all too familiar with on her pillow. A combination of scents he usually would find too much, sickly-sweet. But it was her, and that alone made it the most soothing aroma he’d ever known.

Initially when he’d gotten off the ice, the adrenaline had been pumping, and his anger had been rampant. All he’d wanted was to get home to her, have his way with her. To have an outcome he could control.

He’d kept himself relatively calm in the locker room, not having any outbursts towards Ilya, or anyone for that matter. If any of the guys had noticed he was uncharacteristically quiet, they didn’t say anything.

That is, until the bus ride to the airport.

He had been typing out his text to her, (Hatty, lost in OT, Toronto, you know the one), when he had felt a pair of peering eyes. Sitting in the back of the bus, he’d thought he’d done well to avoid such glances, but apparently not.

“Y’know, you shouldn’t be sulking so much.” A certain French-Canadian spoke, the brunette man’s tired eyes lingering over Mat’s hunched over form.

If there was one thing he didn’t need right now, it was more pep talks from Tito. He’d had more than his fill in the locker room. And though he loved the guy, he didn’t need to be told again how he “did everything right” and had a ”killer game”.

Because he knows, and that’s partly why he’s so mad.

Partly. As the other part is the fact that he wants more than anything to come back to NY to her arms. He was exhausted at this point, and rather than having his way with her, he now just wanted to be welcomed home into those ridiculously cozy sheets. He wanted her to light up all those overpriced candles she loved so much from Bath and Bodyworks, and for Warrior to snuggle up by him, stinky dog breath be damned. He wanted her to turn on ”Miracle” in the back as white noise, and laugh as she repeated all the lines from memory. (He may be Canadian, but he can appreciate a heart warming story told by Kurt Russell when he sees one.)

More than anything, though, he wanted her. And not just for an hour or two before he inevitably dragged himself out of those silky sheets that felt heavenly on his back, leaving her sleeping beside him. She looked peaceful in those moments, and he often wondered what she dreamt of. If she was dreaming of him as he did of her.

Bottom line was, Mathew was the victim of a series of unfortunate events. And the man to his left could recognize that it wasn’t just the hockey that was bothering him. (Though, that whole situation did suck pretty bad, he’d admit.)

So when Anthony told him he shouldn’t be sulking, he flashed him a tight lipped smile and a nod, before looking out the window at the Toronto sunset. The oranges and pinks were stunning, and more than anything their vibrancy reminded him of her. The smile she’d give him in her post-orgasm glow, or of the orange blossom on the bottle of perfume on her vanity. Beauvillier’s gaze never faltered, though, recognizing the deep train of thought his close friend was experiencing.

The screen of his phone had begun to darken, the draft of his message just barely visible. Tito’s eyes quickly shifted from the screen and back up to Barzy, opening his mouth and pausing momentarily.

“Who’re you texting?”

Mat quickly turned off the device, the “click” sounding out in the quiet bus cabin, most of the Islanders players catching some shut eye or watching that new Game of Thrones spin off.

Personally, Mat didn’t get the appeal.

“Nobody, just… a friend I’m visiting tonight when we get back.”

Anthony’s eyebrows went up, making a face of understanding as he slowly nodded three times.

“A friend, huh?”

Mathew nods, taking his bottom lip between his teeth and letting it go. “Yup.” He adds softly for good measure, popping the p.

“You visiting a friend after a game like that, this late, hm?” Another pause. ”Must be an important friend.”

“Yeah.” His voice is soft again, compassion coming across his features and he thinks of her again.

“Well“, Anthony starts, popping in his earbuds and opening his phone to his Music app. “I’d say whatever’s going on with this friend seems worth talking to her about.”

Mat‘s head snaps up, and he scoffs, shaking his head.

“I didn’t say that it was a she-“

“You didn’t have to, buddy.” Tito winks in the most annoyingly-Tito way, and chuckles to himself. He then lays his head back onto the navy material behind him. Mat “hmph”s to himself, doing the same. He turns his phone back on again, going to the chat between the two of them. The still blinking cursor seems like it’s mocking him as he runs a hand over his face, hitting send.

If there’s gonna be any deep, emotional shit, it can wait until he’s not 2500 miles away.

7 hours later when he finally crashes through her front door, he swears the relief he feels mixed with the sense of dread it all might be over in an hour, gives him whiplash. But nonetheless, she welcomes him in, and she feels like home.

Warrior watches from the couch, his tail lazily wagging as he observes his owner greeting the man who occasionally slips him bacon from his Starbucks sandwich. His old man (old dog?) body doesn’t find the arrival of the hockey player worthy of leaving his nest on the sofa, as to him that’s all Mathew Barzal is. The bringer of bacon.

To Warrior’s owner, though, he was so much more.

The trek to the bedroom felt like it took an eternity, and as he laid on her bed, he couldn’t help but wonder if it would be a bad idea to push his luck for once. Risk ending it all to gain everything.

She laid down next to him, and he shifted, going from laying with his arms crossed under his head, to one next to her head, the other keeping him stable from his position on top of her.

Her hand crept up to push an unruly lock out of his eyes, and she leaned forward, and he met her halfway. They paused briefly, taking each other in after so long, before finally closing to distance.

He tasted warm, like cinnamon and something she couldn’t place, and she wondered if at the airport he’d gotten one of those pretzels she knew he liked so much. To compliment his psychopath reminiscent black coffee, of course.

His hand went from where it had been cradling her face down to rest on her hip. The soft touch elicited a whimper, and at that he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers.

She recognized that something was off, swimming around in that pretty little head of his. A small frown etched its way onto her face, and she lifted his chin up so he had no choice but to look at her.

“What’s wrong, Mat?”

He took in a shaky breath, looking over to his left, where the TV was on some random wallpaper, a sunset, he realizes. He scoffs, looking back at her.

“Can you just- can we- can I- fuck.” He mutters, slowly falling down so his body weight is nearly on top of her.

“Can you just… hold me?”

She swears she’s never heard him sound so broken.

“Yeah, baby, ’course. C’mere.” She replies softly, allowing him to fully rest on her. It was a miracle that he didn’t fully break down right there, at the feeling of her fingertips dancing over his skin, under his pushed up shirt. His nose was cold against her neck as he dragged it up against her to come to her cheek, pressing a kiss there. His eyes never opened, afraid that if they did, it would all just be another elaborate fantasy he’d created to pass the time.

“Is this a good idea?” Came her voice, cutting through the silence.

He sniffles. “What do you mean?”

“This. Us.” She says, not able to meet his gaze where he’s lifted his head.

“We’re going to get hurt. More than we already have.”

Oh. Oh, fuck this was happening right now. Mat sat up, feeling like a scared teenage boy. Damn you and the way you read people, Beauvillier. Maybe this would’ve been easier from 2500 miles away.

“We don’t have to.”

“What other option do we have?” She said, sounding defeated, like she already knows her answer and she doesn’t like it. “I-I can’t keep doing this no strings attached shit. Not when you do this. Not when you come here all beat up like some sad puppy.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. And he was.

“Don’t be. I should’ve known this would happen.” Her voice was soft, her eyes distant.

“That what would happen?” He questioned. She looked at him like he had two heads.

“That you’d leave, Mat. That this whole pretending bullshit wouldn’t be enough for me.”

He leaned forward again, catching her off guard.

“I’m not leaving you. I’d never leave you.”

She looked away briefly, mentally cursing herself for being so emotional as tears began to well up in her eyes. He fell to her side, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“Do you really want this?” She asked, the tears rolling down her face illuminated a hue of pink from the salt lamp on the bedside table. Mathew reached out a hand, dragging his thumb over the droplet. He hated that she was crying, but fuck, she sure looked pretty while doing it.

His answer came without thought, he’d done enough of that on his way over.

“Yes. I want you in every way, if you’ll have me.”

A small smile came onto the corners of her face, and she nodded, shortly at first, but more exaggerated as they started laughing, a small “yeah?” escaping from Mathew. She responded with the same, and he took that as his sign to reach forward, closing the distance between them.

And like all the times before, they fell into their routine, her hands going down to his hips, lifting the gray material of his shirt over his head. He returned the favor, the two of them moving in sync as she lifted her hips and he gently slid off her shorts. He ran his palms along her bare thighs and she shivered at the feeling, a reaction that didn’t go unnoticed by Mathew.

“I missed you, y/n.” He admitted, running a hand through his, now, unruly hair.

Another vibrant smile came across her face, easing whatever nerves Mat had left over from his confession.

“I missed you more, Mathew.”

He shook his head, dipping down to leave sloppy kisses on her neck. Taken aback, she let a shaky breath escape. He pulled back, satisfied with the response he’d pulled from her.

“Not possible.”

In a moment of boldness (and a slight hope to allow a fantasy to come to life) she challenged him.

“Prove it, then.”

His eyes darkened, then, and he surged forward. Her remaining clothes, which was just his sweatshirt and a flimsy cami, were gone in an instant. She was left in just a pair of black undies, Mat nearly cumming on the spot at the sight, like he’s some horny teenager. His apparel soon joined the growing pile on the floor, as she made a remark about how it wasn’t fair he was still so covered.

She shamelessly raked over his naked form, save for the black boxers, with his firm muscles, sore from the roadie, prominent as ever. She might’ve been drooling, she wasn’t sure. He smirked, the effect he had on her not lost to him.

The two began to kiss again, and there was no other way to describe it other than that it just felt right.

Mathew wasted no time, allowing his hand to trail down and cup her clothed heat, his thumb passing over her clit and past her entrance with a feather light touch. She shivered, her hips lifting up to chase the brief sensation. He pulled her panties to the side, teasing her entrance with his middle finger.

It was immediately covered in her slick, as was the black fabric he’d moved aside. It made him groan just from the sensation alone, making her chuckle at his behavior. Her laugh soon was cut off as he sunk the finger in, giving her no time to adjust, not that she needed it with how ready she was for it, before adding another.

His palm just barely grazed her begging clit as he pumped in and out slowly. And as she continued to lift her hips trying to feel him deeper, push his hand closer to her clit, she fully expected him to push her down and put her in her place.

But this whole thing was about showing him how much he missed her, how much he appreciated her. To show her that he was staying. And him staying meant that he’d have plenty of chances in the future to be an insufferable tease, but right now wasn’t one of those times.

“Matty, please-“ it was more of a breathy whine, not intelligible to an untrained ear. But thankfully for her, that wasn’t Mat.

“You want more, baby?” He questioned, knowing the answer. She nodded, hair splayed around her like a halo on the pillow. She was still illuminated from the TV screen and the salt lamp, making her look like an angel of sorts, not of this world.

“Look at me then, sweetheart. Wanna see that I’m makin’ you feel good.”

Her eyes that met his were glazed over and doe like, and it melted Mat’s insides at just one look. He did his best to push down the mushy feeling that arose, before realizing he didn’t have to anymore. He could feel as sickeningly in love as he wanted, no consequences.

“You’re so beautiful, baby. So needy, fuckin’ perfect girl.” He remarked, adding in a third finger. She let out a borderline pornographic cry, and Mat picked up his pace. His gaze only faltered from her face, contorting in pleasure, back to where he was pumping in and out of her, unable to resist the urge to watch in amazement.

Though her legs were flailing, going from propped up to sliding down and spread, rustling the comforter, she somehow had enough mind to reach a hand down. She attempted to run tight circles around her clit, but not before her hand was pinned to her side by the center above her,

“No, baby. Lemme.”

His range of motion was wider and his thrusts harder as he curled his fingers to perfectly hit that spot inside her that made her see stars, fully trailing his hand over her sex. He repeated the action again, and again, and again- and fuck, she didn’t know how long she’d go on like this but she never wanted the feeling to stop.

He felt her tighten around him, and he picked up his pace, knowing she was almost there.

“Mat!” she managed to get out between strangled moans and panting breaths. He leaned down, kissing below her ear on the one spot he knew drives her crazy. She was halfway thinking, well, less than halfway with her state at the moment, that he would cruelly pull his hand away as she reached her peak. So she clamped her thighs together in an attempt to trap him, subconsciously more than not.

It didn’t stop him from grinding his palm against her like he had been, leaning down to capture her lips with his in a searing kiss.

Everything at once was just so much, the obscene sounds coming from both their mouths and her wet heat, the feeling of Mathew’s bare skin on top of her, the feeling of warmth radiating from his body, and oh my God, after so long it’s fucking finally happening-

He felt as her chest seized and she pulled away from the kiss, her head slamming back before falling to the side. She cried out, her orgasm hitting her like nothing had before.

He found her lips in the chaos beneath him, his hand parting her thighs as she went lax, lazily pumping in and out as she rode out her high. Her slick coated the inside of her thighs, and Mat pulled away momentarily and she whined, like the little brat she was allowing herself to be.

He only smirked, leaning down to kiss on her collarbone, letting his tongue sweep over the seemingly shimmering expanse of skin before him. He moved further down, savoring the taste of her, how it felt to be so close to her. No guards up, no shields, no screening involved.

She moved her ring clad hands to run fingers through his locks, that fucking smile coming across her face. He looked up from where his hands were holding either side of her waist, his fingers digging into the soft flesh just enough to not make it hurt, but to say “I’m here. I’m not leaving.” His chin rested above her bellybutton, and he felt suddenly seen, bashful almost. He continued his trail down in a half assed attempt to hide his face, her breath hitching when he made it to her mound.

Her breath barely returned to her as he skipped over where she thought he was headed, instead opting to take her right leg over his shoulder, moving down the expanse of it to her ankle. He brought his eyes to meet hers, and a tender hand ran up and down the distance of it. He kissed the inside of her ankle, making his way up to the skin where her thigh met her already aching sex.

He lightly nudged his nose against the area, before attaching his lips. He started sucking on the skin there, licking her clean. Satisfied, he moved to the other side, beginning his good work.

“Mat,” she broke her silence, her voice splintered and low, “don’t tease. Please.”

He raised his eyebrows, seemingly in jest.

“I think we’re a little far gone from teasing, eh?” He asked, and truthfully, one mind blowing orgasm later, they were.

She chuckled, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever hotshot.”

“New nickname?” He questioned. “I like it.” He huffed, returning to his place between her legs. “But I fucking love this pussy, baby.”

And with that, he dove in. He immediately groaned at what he had found. (Which, obviously, caused her to tug at that perfect head of hair, eliciting another groan.)

If possible, she had become even wetter with the mix of his spit and her nectarine juices. It dripped down his chin, and he wanted to stay there forever. He’d found solace there, he thought. No Maple Leafs, no Tito, no hatty that meant jackshit in the end.

Just her and her consummate being. Vibrant, saccharine. His.

He wasn’t sure how long he spent drawing her closer and closer to the edge, but somewhere between repeated chants of praises and whatnot, he’d slipped.

“Fucking love this cunt, fucking love you-“

He hadn’t realized what he said, and if he had, he didn’t seem to care. But his words alone were enough to rip an unassuming orgasm from her. She didn’t allow herself long enough to think about if he meant to say it or not, or even to ride out the aftershocks rolling through her nerves. She grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing him away from her glistening cunt and up to where she connected their lips.

A small sound of surprise, not reluctance, escaped from where they were joined. Her hands came to cradle either side of his face, and Mat thinks that he might’ve cried from the tender action. He wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t going to ask. Hey, it’d been a long day.

“You mean it?”

He realized what he had said, then, eyes wide and somehow his face even more flushed than before. He considered lying, like when Tito had asked who he was texting and he’d said a friend.

But where would that leave him, he wondered?

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, I did.” He added after a beat of silence.

And in those few moments nothing had seemed scarier.

Not when he was 18, getting skipped over by teams in the draft, and that voice in the back of his head had told him that, somehow, everyone had collectively decided to skip Mathew Barzal. Not when he was 19 playing in his first game for the Isles, having to follow up Auston Matthews first NHL game where he had four goals. Four. Fuck.

No, all that was topped by this. By the same fear he’d had earlier when he’d been on the bus, or when he’d arrived at her apartment.

But all of that fear was dissolved in a second after her laugh sounded out in the small bedroom, her eyes crinkling at the edges. She pulled him down towards her, and the sound of her laughter pulled a radiant smile from the hockey player that he felt like hadn’t seen the light of day in a long time.

She rolled over on top of his chest, leaning forward and throwing her arms around his neck. His chain was glinting, now, in the light she had previously been bathed in, and it caught her eye as it rested against his milky complexion.

“You looooove me.” She regarded in a sing-song voice, and Mat rolled his eyes despite the smile growing on his face. She leaned down, and Mathew’s grip on her bare hips tightened, all too aware of the wet spot left on his stomach from her leaking sex.

She mirrored his previous movements down his chiseled body, a regular Adonis in his own right. She left open mouthed kisses, the wet patches from them adding to the thin sheen that covered his body. She made her way down to his boxers, the obvious tent making her stifle a laugh. He caught it though, of course, and rolled his eyes for what seemed like the millionth time.

“Laugh it up, babe. Laugh at my misery.” He commented, to which she only shook her head.

“Patience is a virtue, Mathew.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Well, he had a point there.

So rather than talk, she decided she’d put her mouth to good use. She pulled down his boxers at a painstakingly slow rate, watching as his cock slapped up against his stomach. Her mouth watered at the sight, the tip red and weeping, begging to be attended to. He kicked off the boxers, paying no mind to how they slipped onto the floor, forgotten. She didn’t either, as she was sure he had to have some extra in one of his gazillion bags sitting in her entry way.

Her nails scratched down his stomach, angry red lines puffing up and decorating around the expanse of his skin. They were accompanied by freckles and marks and scars that she could have mapped together with her eyes closed. She knew Mathew like the back of her hand. And with that, came knowing how to make him come undone in her hands.

She started leaving small kisses at the base of his shaft, before swiping the bead of precum from his head down to the rest of him. She pumped her hand a few times, and Mathew let out a strangled moan. She thought he couldn’t get any louder, feeling bad for her neighbors at whatever hour in the night it was, but she was quickly proven wrong.

She licked a long stripe from the bottom to his tip, before taking as much of him into her mouth as she could. She bobbed her head a few times, jacking off whatever she couldn’t fit with her hands. She hollowed her cheeks, and the rise and fall of Mathew’s chest quickened. The sound he let out was animalistic, and it sent another wave of arousal through her body. She moaned involuntarily, and the feeling caused Mathew to buck his hips.

“You’re doing so good, baby. ‘M not gonna last with you going at me- shit- like that.”

He brought a large hand down to the side of her face, lightly stroking her cheek. It was a moment of wholesomeness that reminded them what they were now, what he had said.

Mat could tell she was tired, her pace decreasing. The look in her eyes never changed, though. And as he went to speak to tell her it was okay, and she didn’t have to (and because since it had been so long, he was scared he’d bust his load if she wasn’t careful), she pulled off.

A string of saliva followed, and the sight looked like a thumbnail of a shitty porno. Her eyes were droopy and glazed over, and Mat’s hypothesis was proven correct.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to finish. Let me take care of you.” He repeated his sentiment from earlier. She only shook her head, continuing to jack him off with her hand. Oh. He thought. That’s not what I was expecting.

“S’okay, Matty. Wanna make you feel good.”

She ran her thumb over his tip again, her glassy and swollen bottom lip hanging ajar as she concentrated. The moans he was letting slip free could only be described as pathetic, the 190 pound hockey player putty in her hands.

“I’m gonna cum if you don’t, God, baby, shit! I-If you don’t stop.”

And then she pulled her hand off, and he let out a quick breath at the momentary relief, if that was even the right word. But it was short lived, and she managed to hoist herself up, dragging her folds along his cock, before stabilizing herself with hands on his chest. He slid inside of her, and the sounds they both let out echoed off her walls.

She started moving, and then it was “You’re fuckin’ amazing, you know that? So fuckin’ amazing. My girl, my perfect girl.” He rambled, the events of just that day alone scrambling his mind trying to keep up. Similarly to how she felt earlier, everything was just too much for the poor man. She felt like Heaven around him, and he watched in awe from below her as she moved, enamored by the woman he loves.

As she became more and more tired, her movement slowed, reduced to her grinding herself down on his cock. Mat was barely hanging on, trying to make it last as long as possible. He could tell she was close too, as she squeezed him like a vice, and put her energy into picking up her pace.

“Fuck, Matty. Feels s’good. Love you- shit! I love you so much, baby.” She told him, her eyes closed and her face screwed up as she chased her high. But something snapped in Mathew at her confession, and with a quick “fuck” under his breath, he flipped the two of them without ever leaving her.

He was relentless.

He slammed in and out, and at the sudden change in position and pace, she was blindsided. She thrashed around him, her hands everywhere at once. Her hair, his hair, grasping at his shoulders, scratching down his back. She settled for his biceps, as his hands were planted. One on the right side of her head, the other gripping her hip bone so hard, she was sure it’d bruise.

“It’s only ever been you, baby. I promise you.”

“Shit, Mat!” She cried, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She loosely draped her legs around his middle, allowing him to reach new depths within her. He was fucking her senseless, and they fucking loved it.

“It’ll only ever be you. I love you. Fuck, I love you so much, Y/n.” His hair hung in his eyes as he fought to keep them open. He shook it out of his eyes, wanting to see her as she came in all her glory.

“Love you, Mat. So much, baby. You have no idea.”

His pelvis snapped harder against her, just barely reaching up and grazing her clit in the most exquisite way. The rope in her stomach began to tighten for the third time that night, so close to breaking she could almost taste it.

Actually, she could taste it, she realized. She had been biting down so hard on her bottom lip she could taste the metallic tang on her tongue, and fuck, it was all the more delectable.

“Mat!” It was another exclamation, followed by more babbles. “‘S too much, Matty, can’t do it.” Her voice was small, and despite the nature of the statement, Mat felt his heart flutter.

He shook his head. “Yes, you can, baby. I know you’re tired, but you can do it, Y/n. You’ve got another one in you sweetheart, pull through for me. I’ve got you.”

And never one to disappoint, especially not her Mathew, she did.

She came, and she came hard. But it wasn’t dramatic the way you’d think it’d be, at least not outwardly. Her breathing stopped, her toes curled, and her nails dug into the skin on Barzy’s arms. It wasn’t accompanied by a loud scream, or a drawn out, high pitched moan. It was a breath of relief that left her when she came, her head falling to the side and her eyes closing. A quiet moan of Mat’s name, and she was clamping down on him.

The sweet way his name fell off her tongue, mixed with how she was so damn tight around him as she came, and he was done for. It triggered his own orgasm, and he felt the same feeling of peace wash over him that she had as he spilled into her. He fucked her through it, soft thrusts calming whatever aftershocks they both were experiencing. She had gone limp under him, her eyes opening as she gave him the sweetest smile he’d ever seen.

He stayed in her, lowering himself onto his side, then maneuvering them so she was laying on him. They were a cliché and they knew it, but they couldn’t seem to care. A few moments passed in comfortable silence, before it was broken by Mathew’s scratchy post-sex voice. Swoon.

“So,” he started. She raised a brow, wondering where he was going with this.

“You looooove me, too, then?” He mimicked her tone from earlier, and they broke out in a fit of laughter as she slapped his arm and rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. I guess you’re alright.” She feigned annoyance, propping herself up on her right arm as she faced the man she loved. Mat scoffed, blowing a strand of hair from his forehead. “Just alright? You’re crazy, lady.”

“But you love me.”

Not a beat passed before “I do.”

She smiled softly, lifting up a hand to run a finger along his jaw. He caught it with his own, never breaking eye contact as he kissed her palm. Again, swoon.

“I know.” She responded, wanting to stay in that moment forever. But, she knew that if she stayed where she was too long, she’d more than likely fall asleep in record time. So, she pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth, which he turned to catch before she could go, pulling her back for a “real” kiss at his protest.

A petulant child, that’s what he is.

She pressed one more to his lips for good measure, before pulling himself off of him. They both let out disgruntled sounds at the sudden losses, and it took all her energy to sit up on the edge of her bed. She felt a strong jaw on her shoulder, and she leaned into it.

“Where you goin’? Leaving me all alone isn’t very nice.” She could hear the frown in his voice, and even though she knew he was joking, it tugged on her heartstrings that little bit.

“Gotta pee.” She said, standing up and walking towards the connecting bathroom. “Sorry baby, no UTIs for me.”

The frown stayed cemented on his face.

“You should be grateful,” she threw over her shoulder, shutting the door. “No UTIs, more fucking, yeah?”

He chuckled at her bluntness, deciding to go and get her some water and maybe a snack. Shit, he didn’t know. What was he supposed to do? Usually when they fucked before, her or Mat would be out the door as soon as possible, still trying to ward off those pesky feelings. But now, he was allowed to feel said pesky feelings, and he’d be damned if he fucked it up.

So, snack. And water? Yeah, water, for sure. He was hungry and thirsty, why wouldn’t she be. He had no idea the way around her kitchen, nor how to, er, actually make anything, so this would be rough. But, first, a pit stop.

He would have walked butt-ass naked into her kitchen, really, but then he remembered Warrior was out there and he didn’t have a need to traumatize that dog any further than he already was.

(It was one time, okay? He didn’t know she had a dog, he’d been asleep on his bed by the TV when they’d gotten to her place. And at the time, Mat was too preoccupied to notice.)

He looked around on the floor for the offending clothing item, slightly grossed out when he did finally find them. It was only for a minute, tops, is what he told himself, as he pulled on the boxers from earlier in the night.

He tiptoed, for literally no apparent reason, through the dark apartment until he found the bag he was looking for. He grabbed what he needed from it, struggling with the zipper while trying to close it, before giving up. On his way back to her room, he gave Warrior a nod and smile, and he swore the mutt gave one back. Okay, actually, on second thought, he remembered the clock on her microwave saying it was 3:18 AM, so, maybe he didn’t.

It was late and he just had the best sex of his life with the woman he loves. Give him a break. So what if he’s delusional and thinks he can communicate with dogs? At least he’s pretty.

When he gets to her room, he pulls on the newer, clean, pair of boxers, setting the other pair he grabbed from his bag on the bed for her when she got out of the bathroom, along with an Islanders shirt that he’d secretly always wanted to see her in. Too soon? Maybe. But after so long yearning for everything domestic and wholesome and good that he was convinced he didn’t deserve with her, he was indulging a little bit. So sue him.

His next stop, snacks. And water, can’t forget the water.

The water was easy enough, he got lucky. He grabbed her “emotional support cup” as she’d called it before when she thought he wasn’t listening, and went over to the fridge. He got a few ice cubes and put them in, and then went over to her Brita. He stood there, pressing down on the little lever, watching the steady stream of water into the cup. It was almost laughable, how he stood there in the dead silence, concentrating so hard. He was determined not to somehow do something wrong, even though it was just pouring a cup of water. Cute.

He checked the pantry once the cup was full, with the lid safely screwed on top. The rustling about caught the attention of Warrior, who hopped down from where he’d been on the couch, moseying on over.

Mat, who still was slightly wary of Warrior, despite the fact the dog would cause him no harm, shook his head at the mutt.

“Sorry, buddy. I don’t have anything for you.”

He turned his head and gave him puppy dog eyes, pulling out all the stops. Mat sighed, looking back to the pantry. He saw a box of Milkbones, and looked back to Warrior, who was egging him on. (They’re telepathically connected, remember?)

He reached in the box, pulling one out, and tossing it down. Warrior gratefully accepted, taking his treat and waltzing off to his bed to chow down. Mat looked in the pantry, going to close the box, when he sees it, his saving grace.

White bread, hallelujah.

He can do toast. Mathew Barzal is a totally capable 25 year old man who can make toast. So, he takes the bag, going over to the toaster. And-

One look at all those fancy buttons, and he’s tapped out.

Okay, it’s okay, he can remember seeing a vending machine on his way into her apartment. Yeah, he remembers her telling him about having to sign off on some HOA form for it, even though she was just renting. Apparently, her landlord hadn’t signed, which made it her job. Whatever, that’s irrelevant.

He figured that there wouldn’t be anybody out in her hallway at 3:23 AM, so he grabbed his coat with his wallet, shrugging it on over his bare back. His slides were somewhere in his hockey bag and the last thing he wanted to do was stink up her whole place by opening that Pandora’s box. So, barefoot it is.

He does his best to sneak out the apartment, leaving the door ajar as he makes the short walk to the vending machine, grateful his search was over. He let out a long sigh as he stood, wondering what to get her.

For himself he decided on a bag of cool ranch Doritos, and a bag of those tiny cookies. For her, he racked every corner of his brain for potential options, before realizing how long he’s taking, and how long he’d been gone. So, not wanting to waste any more time, he elected for one of everything.

He punched in the numbers and paid, attempting to grab them from the machine. Trying to pick up the few that had fallen, he leaned down. His attention was called elsewhere by the ”click!” of a door a few units down. His head snapped to the source of the sound.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” He muttered under his breath upon what he saw.

A man probably not much older than himself, suitcase and backpack in tow, donned in, you guessed it, a New York Islanders hoodie a lá number 13.

The man had yet to notice the star player down the hall from him, and Mat was considering just making a run for Y/n’s place. But either way, he would have to go past the man, or the man would have to go past Mat to get to the elevator. Maybe he’d take the stairs? He hoped. Shit, who was he kidding, he’s not taking the stairs.

Starting his walk over, the unnamed Islanders fan lifted his head, stopping in his tracks. His jaw dropped, and if it wasn’t purely because of being in the presence of Mat Barzal, he had a hunch what it was.

Said hunch, was that it was due to the fact Mat Barzal was standing in front of him, in an apartment complex definitely not boujee enough for him to be living in, at 3:25 in the morning, naked, except for boxers and some fancy trench coat, holding several bags of snacks.

Mat would’ve laughed at the guys face, but he thought he wasn’t quite in the position to do so.

“Hey, man. How’s it going?” And a stupid bro nod, was all Mathew could manage.

-

While he was facing that debacle, Y/n was having one of her own.

After she’d gone to the bathroom, she decided to try to do her nighttime routine, too. She put on her robe from where it had been hanging in her bathroom, beginning her little routine.

When she emerged 10 minutes later, Mat was nowhere to be seen.

His bags were still by the door, albeit one of them hastily thrown open. Was he leaving and had gotten some clothes and an Uber? Did he have last minute regrets? The door to her place was left open, and an overwhelming sadness began to take over her system. As the tears began to well up, she looked over to Warrior, only to notice him chewing on… a milkbone? How the hell did he get a milkbone?

She sniffled, wiping her sleeve under her nose. She sat down on her couch, looking at where her iced coffee from earlier was still sitting, ¾ of the way empty. The tears started to flow freely again after that, and she stood up, deciding that she should at least shut the door. She didn’t need to deal with a robbery, too.

As she stood and turned, she was met with a very discombobulated and very underdressed Mat trying to shove his way through the door.

“Have a good flight, man. Enjoy Miami!” Mat called over his shoulder to what sounded like her neighbor Gian, based off of the “Thanks bro, good luck this season!” she heard back.

She slapped a hand over her mouth, trying to not bust out laughing at the sight in front of her. Hearing her snickering, he looked up gesturing to the bags in his arms.

“Hungry?” He asked, the smile on his face falling when he saw the red around her eyes. He dropped all the snacks on the couch to his right, making his way over to where she stood.

“Hey, hey, why’re you crying? What’s wrong sweetheart?” He questioned, and his sincerity made her smile widely.

“Nah, I’m all good, don’t worry about it. Just thought you’d left, that’s all…” A pause. “But I see now that you just had a case of munchies, apparently.”

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders pulling her towards his chest. His chin rested on her head, and she closed her eyes, inhaling his scent.

“No, baby. God, no, I’m not leaving. I just wanted to do this whole thing right, and I thought you might be hungry, and I tried to make toast- your toaster is really complex by the way,”

She pulled away from him as he rambled, her smile reaching her eyes.

“And I filled your water and set out clothes for you and I really did try, baby. I didn’t mean to fuck anything up, really.”

She giggled again, taking hold of the shoulders of his jacket, shrugging it off. She folded it over the back of a barstool, then turned back towards Mat.

“And Gian?”

“Oh yeah, he’s cool. Ran into him in the hallway and introduced myself. Going to visit some family in Miami.”

She raised an eyebrow, nodding her head in understanding. She stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his middle.

“So, am I gonna have to compete with him for your attention now whenever you come over?”

He reciprocated the action, one hand coming up to rest on her chin.

“I mean, he’s gonna be gone for two weeks, but after that…” he shrugged, trailing off. She hummed, and he smiled at her, leaning forward. He searched her eyes for any remaining upset, unable to find any, before he pressed his lips to hers. It was sweet and gentle, with not a hint of rush or fervor.

When they pulled apart, she was smiling again. Her hands found their way back to his neck.

“And baby, you’re amazing. You didn’t fuck up anything at all, I promise.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” She whispered, leaning in again to connect their lips. She let her tongue sweep over his bottom lip, biting down just barely before pulling away. She pushed down the sleeves of her robe just a bit, exposing her shoulders. Y/n took his hand, and started walking backwards, letting it slowly slip out of hers as she did.

“Come on, hotshot. Come to bed. Snacks will still be there in the morning.”

She smiled again briefly, before walking towards her room, the robe slipping down as she went. Mat stood watching her in total awe, glued in place, until he was knocked out of his trance.

“Hurry up! And lock the door, too, please!”

He had never obliged to anything quicker in his life.

(And as for the snacks, they were not still there in the morning, thanks to a certain mutt who managed to rip open all the packets on the couch. The next morning was spent at the vet, who had told them Warrior would be fine, just fat. The vet had only said this, though, after Mat had consoled a crying Y/n, who was under the impression he was going to be poisoned.

The rest of the day after that? Making up for lost time.)

FIN.

YO idk if that was good or not i kind of feel like i imagined writing the entire thing and it was a fever dream. but. anyway! if you liked it, be sure to reblog <3 thank u i love u! go eat some protein and drink some water. 

xx, hj

[twstfanblog]

Honestly, I just love to hear you rant!!! My request is any au you choose, with Crewel, Rook, and Vil, together or separate, your choice!!! I think your rants are super sweet and sound so much like my own to my friends!!! It kinda makes me think of when I spent 30 minutes trying to find out how much a pint of ale cost in 1843 England for one sentence in something I was writing! 😅 Too bad I'm already following you, because I would totally follow you again! Can't send the Tumblr gift thingies though, because screw American capitalism.

(That price of ale thing is literally how deep I get into world building if Im not careful XD Most days I just go, IT'S FINE YOU DON'T KNOW JUST KEEP WRITING)

Hmmmm... I've written about them all a lot in most of my AU's, honestly. I dont have anything really rant worthy left to say about...I literally had a whole hour to think about it, so instead, I'm just gonna drop another AU so I can get you something new about them. My Manhwa AU is pretty self-serving, but it's got plenty of Vil, Rook, and Crewel sprinkled in.

Basic idea of the AU is that 'Villainess' type story. Yuu was seen as a villain in the original timeline, only to die and come back in time to when she was a child with her full memories. She vows to change her ways and not die in such a way again.

Crewel and Crowley are Yuu's birth parents (Because my AU's are just the same universes in different settings-oop) Crewel married Crowley 100% for the money and power since Crowley was an arch duke. You couldn't call it a marriage of convenience hard enough. But of course, Crewel had to have a puppy to fufill his duty. Crewel will openingly treat Crowley like the bumbling man he pretends to be, but he is an adoring yet stern father to his precious puppy. So you can imagine when she wakes up one day and doesn't act like herself at all. He's so concerned about her...

Vil isn't nobility, but he and his father are both rich and popular enough to buy a title. Both actors, Vil leaves for the performance to the point he was called a succubus by one of his cast stars (teenagers acting so good one falls in love but the other is like 'dude we were acting, calm down'). Vil holds onto his issues with always being casted as a villain but he holds it in much better because hes just happy that he's well liked enough to always perform. As he gets older in this AU he starts to really show his support for the arts and all who create it. He's even started looking for investors to help him fund an acting school.

Rook is a noble man, lover of the odd and offbeat art, no one but his family really accepted his art. But he tried and he shared it with everyone he could. Vil saw it during an artshow and kinda tore it apart publicly by going on and on about how disturbed it made him feel. The current brownnoser tried to 'agree' saying it was bad art.

Vil:

Vil: There's no such thing as "bad art", you toad. I said it disturbed me, I find it grotesque is a very...eyecatching way. It's not bad because it made me feel something.

So Rook falls in love instantly and basically hunts this mean beauty.

They end up working well together because Vil has FINALLY found someone willing to write him in a hero role and PROPERLY CRITIQUE THINGS WITH. They discus art and what makes something 'moving' vs 'shock value'. They fall in love hard for each other to the point Vil accepted Rook's proposal and is already 60% planned through their wedding. Only to realize he never told anyone when his dad asked if he was open to seeing anyone because he's been told many a young man and lady would like to court him.

(SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG TO DO!!!)

[shadowdaddies]

I'm going to self project here, but can I request Fenrys beating the living sh*t out of reader's abuser? I need this... as self-care ngl

I'm not sure why I spent so long building the backstory for Reader but it was fun and I kind of want to write a series based on it now? Anywho, Fenrys does a little more than beat up the abuser👀 I got carried away oops

Hope Reborn

Fenrys Moonbeam x Reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, slavery, just very canon-typical trauma beware

During Adarlan’s conquest of Terrasen, you tried to escape to the Southern Continent with the man you had been in a relationship with, following his lead on a path he had charted for the both of you through the Perranth Mountains to head south.

It was outside the city of Perranth when Adarlan soldiers stopped you. Knowing that your attire immediately gave you away as Orynthian, you took your partner’s hand, ready to flee for your lives back into the forest. The pain of losing your home, your family, your culture, hadn’t broken you yet. But as the man you loved held out his hand for a couple coins, yanking you toward the soldiers’ waiting arms, you shattered. 

The one person you had left in this world, who you believed that you could trust, had sold you for a couple pieces of silver. He walked into the forest, never turning back. Never seeing the beatings, the unspeakable things the Adarlan soldiers did to you on the way to Endovier.

You became a slave in the salt mines, learning the language of Eyllwe from those imprisoned alongside you. One girl, a few years younger than you, was also from Terrasen. The two of you would talk and reminisce on the fields of pine trees and memories of Orynth. Her name was Celaena, and when she was taken from Endovier to the king’s castle, you weren’t sure that you could handle losing one more person in your life.

Months passed as you labored away in the salt mines, reflecting on the family and friends you’d lost, and the man who betrayed you. As you dared a look around the dirt yard, eyeing the guards as they taunted the other slaves with their whips, you became resolute in your plan for vengeance - against your former lover, against the guards, against the king.

So when you woke up that fateful morning to see the riots had begun, you grabbed your pick axe, cutting down any guard who dared to stand in your way as you ran for your freedom. You were one of the few who survived the riot, but at this point you were a shell of the human being you once were. You didn’t know light or love. You only knew survival. 

Learning your lesson from before, you stole drying clothing from a nearby village and began your journey southeast towards Rifthold. You found a life in the city as a barmaid in a tavern while you slept in an abandoned apartment, biding your time while you created a plan.

The perfect opportunity fell into your lap one rainy night, that you had no idea would change your life forever. You were leaving the tavern after a long shift, your cloak tugged over your head moreso to avoid any men approaching you than to keep your hair dry. 

A woman running down the street caught your eye, and you stopped to watch as she leapt into the arms of a man. Her own hood fell down, revealing reddish-blonde hair as the couple embraced for a long moment. You were about to turn away, eager to escape the rain when the woman turned, locking eyes with you.

A choked sob escaped you as you recognized her. Tanner, healthier, happy - but you would know those distinct golden-turquoise eyes anywhere. She must have recognized you too, for Celaena bolted towards you, pulling you in as you were hugged for the first time in years.

“How are you here?” she said through tears, glancing over her shoulder as three other people slowly approached behind her. 

You smiled, sniffling as you wiped happy tears from your eyes. “I got out during the uprising. How are you here?”

Celaena looked towards her friends, giving a slight nod to the two males in particular before turning back to you. “Will you come with me?”

That small piece of hope inside of you sparked at her offer, and you found yourself nodding, letting yourself be led into yet another unknown. You followed the group up to an apartment, where Celaena sat you down and explained who she really was.

Your world tilted on its axis as you were filled with more hope than you had since the conquest of Terrasen, immediately swearing allegiance to Aelin, your queen. You traveled with her group to Skull’s Bay, finding your purpose in preparing Terrasen for war against Erawan, and to reestablish your home.

It was in Skull’s Bay that you met Fenrys, the most beautiful male you had ever seen. You formed an instant connection, drawn to his jovial nature. He was incessantly kind and positive despite everything that he had been through, the perfect balance and glimmer of light that you had been searching for your entire life. 

And yet, all good things seem to be ripped from you. Fenrys and Aelin were taken from you, leaving a hole in your heart that could never be filled, never be rebuilt. If not for Rowan’s determination, his drive to find his wife, you might have been broken completely. But your new family gave you the strength you needed to find Aelin and Fenrys. 

As a human, you didn’t know if you were capable of having a bond, but what you felt for Fenrys - how you swore you could feel his pain, how he missed you while he was with Maeve - was as close to a bond as you could imagine. It wasn’t a spark of hope that flared in your chest when you reunited with Fenrys when he escaped Maeve, it was an eternal flame. You knew that you would marry this male one day.

When that day came, and you stood beside your husband as part of Queen Aelin’s Court in front of all of Terrasen, the last person you expected to see what the man you once loved. The man who sold you into slavery, standing to the side with the rest of the courtiers.

Rage filled you, at him, at Adarlan, at yourself, at the world for allowing a man so vile to not only survive, but seemingly thrive. You hadn’t realized how much your grip on Fenrys’s hand had tightened until your husband winced - but instead of pulling away, he lifted your hand to his lips. 

Pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your hand, Fenrys’s onyx eyes found yours, drawing you from those dark thoughts. “What is it, my love?” he asked, voice so soft you could melt into it.

You swallowed thickly, forbidding yourself from giving that spineless excuse for a man another look. Taking a deep breath, you pulled Fenrys in for a hug as you murmured your confession into his shirt. “You know my first love? Who sold me to Endovier? He’s here. In the blue jacket.”

Fenrys stiffened under your touch, fae instincts taking over as a low growl formed in his throat. You swore you felt the temperature in the room rise as your husband honed in on the man like a predator. 

“What do you want me to do?” he whispered, voice lethally quiet as he held you close.

Looking up, you couldn’t help the genuine smile that brightened your features as you savored the feeling of this male, who you knew would do anything for you. This male who gave you the love you never dreamed was possible. 

“I don’t want you to do anything. I have everything I need, and more,” you whispered back, standing up on your toes to pull him in for a kiss. 

Fenrys gave you a wolfish grin, seemingly satisfied with your answer before he dared to look back into the crowd. His gaze flicked to where Rowan stood on the dais, the two in silent communication, before Rowan declared court dismissed. 

“I have some matters to take care of with Rowan, and I will be back shortly. Alright, my love?” Fenrys questioned, a kiss to your temple before you nodded, heading back to the sitting room where Aelin and Lysandra shortly joined you.

Time passed as you relaxed, enjoying chocolates and discussing books with your friends when Rowan stumbled through the door, Fenrys behind him. The two males had blood staining their shirts, busted knuckles quickly healing as they noticed your concerned expression. 

Clearing his throat, Fenrys brushed his blonde hair from his face as he strode towards you in an attempt at acting nonchalant. 

“Fen, love, what did you do?” you drawled, arching an assessing brow as you sipped your tea. 

“Nothing. Rowan and I had some matters to attend to, as I said,” he shrugged, reaching for a chocolate from the table in front of you. Understanding dawned, and you gasped.

Reaching for his bloodied hand, you pulled it towards you as you examined the wounds. “Fenrys Moonbeam! You did not hit that man, did you? I don’t need to worry about him anymore, love.”

Rowan snorted from where he lounged on the arm of Aelin’s chair. “He didn’t just hit him,” Rowan paused, green eyes focusing on you with sincerity. “And trust me, you will not have to worry about him ever again.”

Alarmed, you glanced to Lysandra in disbelief, your friend shaking her head as she lifted a chocolate to her mouth. “I wouldn’t ask them to elaborate if I were you,” she muttered, popping the dessert with a satisfied moan.

Rubbing your temples, you stood, wrapping Fenrys’s arms around you as you buried your head against his warm, toned chest. 

“Are you mad?” he whispered.

With a deep sigh, you looked up, brushing back his blonde curls behind his ear as you admired his glittering black eyes, all anxiety leaving your body. “Officially speaking, I don’t condone your actions. But I love you, and whatever I did in some past life to deserve someone like you...” You trailed off, drawing the back of your hand down his cheek. “Thank you for giving me hope, Fenrys Moonbeam.”

[burn-before-reading]

Long Ways Away

Bucky Barnes x Reader

connection, reconnection, and a small miscommunication. Bucky will travel however far if it means making you smile

wordcount: 4k

a/n: This was originally written AGES ago (2021) for @wkemeup ‘s 9k writing prompts. I had a different blog and posted one or two fics then ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THE WHOLE BLOG. oops 🤷. remade this one and now im back into writing a bunch again so figured i might as well respost it. i had some other bucky fics i never finished writing so who knowsss i might go back and finish them :p

based on the prompt:

Character A calls Character B in the middle of the night crying - something they’ve never done before. They’re several states away. [B] gets in the car without hesitation and drives to wherever they are.

Bucky found himself on the balcony, looking out into the busy New York nightlife. Cars driving through the busy streets. He felt it matched the energy inside the Tower. If he looked behind he would have found Tony chatting away, creating a spectacle and being the center of attention as usual. Sam was playing pool against Scott. Accusing him of cheating by using ants to move the balls around when he wasn’t looking. Steve and Natasha were in the corner chatting away about the last mission. Steve was always a little too focused on work, even when these get-togethers were planned to distract the team from just that.

It was why Bucky needed a break, that's what he would say at least. The reason for this whole party, as much as he hated the whole spectacle. A break from the team. A break from missions. He just needed an out, for now.

It’s at least what he was telling himself.

“Hey Stranger. Found your hiding spot.” He glanced behind and saw you there. Relaxed and leaning against the doorway, a half empty drink in your hand. Smiling like there wasn’t a reason for you to be sad. He smiled back for a second, like he was still going to be here tomorrow.

He would miss you the most.

______

You hadn’t called yet.

He wasn’t too worried at first, the last he heard from you, you had said Steve was planning a mission and you probably would be gone for a while. You didn’t specify what kind of mission. You never did. He hated that.

In all honesty taking this break, full on Move-Into-a-subburb-in-Indiana kinda break, was killing him. It was one of those things he thought he would be fine with. The neighbors were nice. A sweet old lady who was always baking and bringing him cookies and pies. The other was your typical nuclear family. Maybe that was something Bucky would have wanted back in the 40s. Now he’s not so sure.

Bucky’s so called retirement wasn’t that exactly. He wasn’t off the team. It was a break. A long break. A break for some undetermined amount of time, but had currently lasted for almost six months. Time away from the hustle and bustle of city life. Of Avenger life. Steve had suggested it after Bucky had one too many sleepless nights. Giving him time to try and live a life not fighting for something. Somewhere peaceful. He would’ve considered it sooner, if it weren’t for you.

He didn’t know how it had started. The friendship between the two of you. He knows you were the one to first initiate the conversation. It had taken him a while to warm up to you. He’s almost mad at himself that he didn’t keep track of all your interactions. Everytime he heard you laugh. Everytime you sat next to him during a movie night. When Your friendship started bleeding into something else. He felt like the two of you skipped a step somewhere. A line between friends and… something else, something better, started to blur.

You would slip into his room at night right before the nightmares could start. Running your hands through his hair as you softly sung lullabies and old songs. You spent the night more often than not. Fast asleep with your arms wrapped around him. His head delicately tucked into the crook of your neck, arms wrapped around your waist. You both waking up in each other's arms, tangled together in a peaceful bliss.

He knows what ended it. It was his fault. He pushed away.

But Damnit, Bucky did miss you.

At least you called every once in a while. Giving him updates about everything going on at the tower. It was like clockwork, almost. A call springing up at the end of almost every week, updating him on every little detail of Steve's extremely long Disney Movie Marathon. Last update you gave was he just finished the Renaissance era. Swearing on your life that you managed to catch him singing along to The Little Mermaid.

Another time you called just to complain about how bad your sparring session with Nat was.

“I swear someone must’ve pissed her off before it because now I have a stupid bruise on my back and it just hurts all over” you groaned over the phone. he could imagine you lying on the floor in your room. Blankets thrown about and laptop angled so you could still watch Netflix. The thought made him laugh which caused you to respond “Don’t laugh at my misery!”

If it wasn’t a call, you would text, but that was rare. You had confessed early on that you hated texting, but you couldn’t help but send him pictures and videos of the group hanging out. You, Wanda, and Natasha in the lounge watching horror movies. Sneaky photos of Steve asleep in the common area. His favorite had to be when you send a video of Sam spacing out and crashing into a window while flying. He sent back laughing emojis and saved the video.

He never said much about his time away. He got a cat. A little white furball he named Alpine. He sent you a handful of pictures that you absolutely adored.

He would say that the time away has been helping. Less chaos, more calm. He always tried to make it sound like he was enjoying his time away. The neighbors were nice. The place was quiet. He was getting sleep. Enjoying his break.

He was starting to miss the chaos. He was missing you.

He always looked forward to your calls, even though they always seemed to interrupt him meditating, like today. It had been over a month since your last call.

You had changed your ringtone to some upbeat song he honestly couldn’t stand at first but grew on him over time. It couldn’t even finish its first verse before he picked up the phone and spoke with a smile on his face.

“Hey, Y/N. You back from your mission?” He only heard silence back at first, and it scared him. “Doll, are you there?” More silence before he could barely pick up the faint sniffling. “Y/N, are you okay?”

More silence. More sniffling. He was getting ready to call Steve or text him or Something before he heard your voice speak up. A fragile, tear-filled response. It broke his heart.

“I’m Sorry Bucky. I shouldn’t have called.”

Then the line goes dead.

______

“You should go back inside y/n. Go enjoy the party.”

“What's the point of it if the person it's for isn’t even there?” you walk over and lean against the railing so your back is to the view. You stared at the inside for a second before looking at him again. “Excited for retirement?” He rolled his eyes at your half assed joke.

“Its not retirement. Its just, a break.” That made you laugh a little. Your nose scrunched up the tiniest amount and is made Bucky smile. He would miss your laugh.

“It feels like retirement, you bought a house and everything. In Indiana right?”

“Yeah.”

“Kinda far from the tower, don’t you think?” you finished up what was left in your glass and set it on the small standing table to the side of you before focusing your attention back to him.

“That was kind of the point. Somewhere quiet, or well, quieter than here.” He gestured to the city, but part of you felt he meant the team.

______

He doesn’t care that the drive is eleven hours. He doesn’t care that he had to stick his now grumpy cat in a carrier and put her in the front seat. Be doesn’t care that he’s rushed out of his house at three in the afternoon with nothing but the desire to check on you.

He does care that you haven’t answered or returned any of his calls yet and Bucky swears on his life he is going to murder Steve if he doesn’t pick up either. He hears it ring three times before he answers.

“Hey, Buck. Whats up?” Steve says into the phone nonchalantly. It's starting to piss him off.

“What happened Steve.” His voice was cold and his grip on the steering wheel tightened with each second. What happened, what happened.

“Wait what do you mean.”

“Y/N Steve! What happened to her on her mission.” his voice cracked a bit as he tried to keep it together. Something was wrong and he didn’t know what.

“Y/n’s mission? It went fine she got back a while ago and… wait did she call you?” He seemed surprised.

“Yes! Y/N was crying and she just hung up suddenly and…what happened Steve.”

“Nothing. She’s been fine this whole time. It happened a while ago so I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Wait how long has she been back from her mission.”

“Two weeks.”

“Well how was I supposed to know that!” He was getting antsy, wishing this car of his would go any faster.

“I assumed she had already called you. She usually did after every mission but… I’ll go check up on her for you if you want. Let her know you called.”

“I’m already on my way over. Just let me know if she does anything else.”

______

He doesn’t remember how long he stayed out there talking to you. It was more you talking to him. How training went that day, A new movie that had come out that week, Peter coming to you for advice on asking someone out. A dream you had.

He couldn’t help but glance at your arm as you talked. Covered with long sleeves but he knew the scar was still there. Long and jagged, running from your forearm to your wrist. Slowly fading but still ever present. He felt your hand lift his chin up to meet your eyes again.

“Don’t even think of feeling guilty right now.” You teased, but your face showed nothing but sincerity. He gripped the railing tightly and it looked like he wanted to say something, but the words weren’t coming out.

He couldn’t. Not that.

“Do you remember the first time you stayed the night?” You took your hand away and watched him stare off into the distance. “ I felt trapped in my own head, in my memories. I wasn't leaving my room.”

“We share a wall. I could always hear when your nightmares got bad, but Steve was always there for you. But he was gone one day and I… I couldn’t just leave you to deal with that on your own.” Your voice turned to a whisper. Reminiscing on what you two once had. The quiet moments together. Why he stopped them, you only somewhat understood.

______

An hour felt like ten, and the full drive felt like an eternity later. When he reached the tower the sky was now dark, but he didn’t care. It had been far too long since he had been back.

He had Steve talk him through what could have happened.

“It must have been something that happened on her mission, but I can’t pick out anything weird, besides the fact that she insisted on taking this one alone.”

It was a stakeout. Suspicions of an arms deal going on. The plan was for you to just find out who was involved. Collect any information you can. You always sounded bored whenever you talked about it and gave Steve updates.

“Wait, why did she insist on going alone. Those take forever and I doubt she got a reasonable amount of sleep if she was by herself.” Bucky at this point was thinking the worst.

“Nothing happened Buck. She gave updates the whole time. I gave her permission to call you, but from the sound of it she never did.” A realization hit him then and there. The first mission he went on with you alone was a stakeout.

He doesn’t remember what the mission was about. All he remembers is two weeks alone with you. The two of you in a hotel room, spying on… he isn’t even sure anymore. All he took away from that time is he was absolutely in love with you. The way you would talk about Wanda’s crush on Vision at the time and how you kept bugging her to say something. Everytime you tried (and failed) to throw popcorn into your mouth.

By the time Bucky arrives at the tower it's almost three in the morning. Alpine sleeping soundly in the passenger seat. Steve is waiting for him in the parking garage. A concerned look on his face.

“She’s locked herself in her room. She won’t talk to me.” Bucky moves Alpine from the carrier to his jacket, and walks with Steve to the elevators to get to the living quarters.

“Is she even still awake? I got here pretty late.” He glanced at the pajama bottoms Steve was wearing.

“Last time I passed by I heard a show playing, she still might have fallen asleep though. Your room is empty if you wanna get some rest.”

“No.” the Elevator opens up to the all too familiar hallway that now you currently reside in. “I wanna see her now, if I can.” if she lets me. Steve simply pats him on the back.

“You planning on staying a while?”

“I guess we’ll see..” The doors close leaving Bucky alone in the dark hallway. He feels stuck in place. It has been so long since he’d seen the tower. He’d forgotten how much he’d miss this place.

He hesitated knocking on your door. The familiar notch in the wood from when you tried to fire one of Clint's bows. He could hear what sounded like a nature documentary softly playing from the other side of the door.

“Friday?” He whispered.

“Welcome back Sergeant Barnes.” The AI called out.

“Is she awake?”

“Agent Y/N is awake at the moment. Would you like me to let her know you’re here?”

“No, no its alright.” Bucky responded. “I can talk to her.”

He continued to just stare at the door, unsure how to start. He looked down to Alpine who simply meowed at him. Her way of saying to ‘get on with it, I’m tired!’

“Alright, alright.” He nervously chuckled before lifting his right hand up. Three delicate knocks rang through the door.

“I’m fine Steve.” He heard your voice for the first time in person again. Muffled and clearly annoyed, but still perfectly you.

“ Y/n? It's Bucky. Can you please open the door.” The documentary paused. He heard the slight squeaking of a bed and footsteps padding over to the door, till he heard your voice loud and clear.

“What are you doing here, shouldn’t you be in Indiana.” He was surprised by the coldness in your voice.

“What’s going on with you. You called and I got worried. Can you please open the door?” He pressed his forehead against the door, trying to get as close to you as possible.

“I never meant to bother you. Please, Bucky, just go home.” There was pain in your voice and your words. Calling somewhere that wasn’t here his home.

“I’m not leaving till you explain what’s going on. What happened that made you call.”

“...I needed to stop relying on you to fix my problems.” You sighed. Maybe you could tell he wouldn’t leave you alone with just that. “It was a nightmare, okay? That’s all. I can deal with those on my own now.”

“ Please let me in. You know I can help with those.” He whispered through the door. He didn’t know you even got nightmares. “How long have they been happening?”

“Why does it matter to you.” You spat. “I’m not letting you in so you can just… go home”

hesitation…. Bucky thought for a moment.

“I have Alpine. You said you wanted to meet her.”

A moment of silence, and then he hears the lock click open.

______

“I’ll miss you. You know that right?”

You stared at the night sky and he couldn’t help but notice how the lights danced in your eyes.

“You can always call.” he replied.

“Do you know… when you’ll come back?” the hesitation in your voice made him suspect you were going to say “if”. The fear he may never come back.

“I’ll be back, doll. If you ever need me just call and I’ll come running.” The idea got both of you to smile.

“I’d never have you do that for me, but I appreciate the thought.” You laughed before turning your head and staring straight into his eyes. “Just promise me. You’ll come back.”

“I promise.”

Both of your feet took control and suddenly you were now facing each other. In both of your eyes you could see a million words trying to escape. Each of you wanting to say something you didn’t think the other would want.

Stay here

Tell me to Stay

Let me spend one last night with you

Please don’t leave me alone

I love you

I love you

Just let me love you

It felt like you were inches apart. Miles away from the rest of the world. Your hand rose to rest softly on his cheek. He leaned into your touch and closed his eyes. The pad of your thumb gliding across his cheek, the scratchy stubble, till it rested right under his bottom lip. His hands resisted the urge to touch you, the fear of somehow hurting you again, but your touch he relished in. He savoured this moment between the two of you, almost too hesitant to take it any further. Those million words slowly bubbling up to the surface. Falling from his eyes to the tip of his tongue. They tasted like salt. You raised your hand up to swipe something from his face.

Tears. No words. Just tears.

You could taste your own words as well.

“Hey Ms. Y/N - oh Sorry!” The sheepish voice that belonged to Peter spoke out and caused the two of you to draw away from each other. The timeless moment broken. Words gone. Words buried once again. You could tell he felt bad for interrupting what seemed to be a private moment between the two of you.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No, it's fine. You didn’t interrupt anything. Did you need something kiddo?” You wiped your eyes and tried to look cheerful. Bucky never understood why you had such a soft spot for peter. He talked too much for his liking.

“Tony said you were out here and… He needed to talk to you about something I didn’t really ask uh.” Peter kept glancing at the now brooding man next to you. “happy retirement Mr. Bucky, Sergeant Barnes sir.”

“It's just Bucky,” He grumbled, “And it's not a retirement. It's just… Tony just started calling it that because i'm old.” You noticed the stiffness in his voice so you decided to break the tension.

“Tell Tony I’ll be inside in a second, okay Peter?” He nervously nodded and shuffled back inside. You turned back to face Bucky. He looked down and away from you now.

Miles apart.

“Gotta go back inside, I guess. Don’t stay out too long okay?”

In a brief second of courage you lifted your hand back to his face, and turned to place a quick kiss on his cheek before walking away and leaving him alone again on the balcony. The feeling of your lips lingered on his skin.

You didn’t see him when he left the next morning.

______

You looked just as beautiful as he remembered. Unbrushed hair and wrinkly t-shirt thrown together with an old pair of sweats. He wanted to wrap himself up in your touch, in your scent, but your eyes gave off a tired and standoffish look. Eyebrows scrunched together. This wasn’t the time, yet.

“Where is she.” You asked. Bucky unzipped his jacket slightly and peeled away one side to reveal a little puff of fur. The door opened wider and you stepped aside to let him in. He took a seat on your bed and let Alpine out to walk around. You sat down and alpine walked over and rubbed her face on your hand.

“Cute..”

“Yeah, she is. There's no cat food in the tower, right? I left in a rush and-”

“Bucky.” you raised a brow at him.

“Right, sorry.” He studied your expression, waiting for you to start.

“Can I ask you something, Bucky?”

“Anything.”

“Am I the reason you left?” Your question left him bewildered.

“Where’d you get that idea?”

“It's just,” you started, “we were so close, and I know I pushed your boundaries a little more than the others, but you seemed okay with it. You even pushed things further so I thought we were on the same page. But after-” you turn your arm to show what's now only a faint line running down your arm, “ -this I, I don’t know. You didn’t just step back, you pushed away. You didn’t even look at me for weeks and then suddenly you say that you're leaving and I-”

Tears spring from your eyes. The million words too much. Bucky grabs your hands and uses his thumbs to rub small circles into your wrists.

The night was one clearly neither of you had forgotten. You had just come back from a mission with Steve and went to Bucky’s room to surprise him, only to find he was having another nightmare. You attempted to wake him up, were met with a sharp pain in your arm. The both of you were too stunned by each other's actions to immediately notice the knife in Bucky’s hand and the stream of blood gushing down your arm and staining his sheets.

You never held it against him, but he clearly did.

“It was a rash decision.” He says, “ I care about you so much, you know that… or I hope you do, but after,” he felt his million words bubbling to the surface again, “After I hurt you, I got scared. I was afraid of making things worse and I didn’t even realize I already had. I left to try and figure myself out. After the first week I knew it wasn’t my thing. I was honestly gonna come right back, but you sounded so happy when you called and, I started to think you’d be better off without me.” His voice grew softer with every word.

“What about your neighbors, meditation. You said you were getting better sleep.”

“Mostly lies. The Nightmares just have become more manageable with time, and I don’t need to leave just to sit on the floor in silence. The only good thing to come from this is Alpine.” he admitted and you released a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“At the party, before you left. You said to ask and you’d come back. There were so many times I thought about it, but you’d talk about how much better you were doing-”

“All lies, doll. Sorry.”

“ - I thought you were better off without me.” he tugs you forward and you let yourself fall into his embrace. You feel each other relax in each other's touch. He rested his chin on the top of your head for a second before placing a kiss on your forehead.

“I’m so sorry I made you feel this way.” You feel his lips move against your skin. “But I’m not leaving you again. Not ever.” You pulled away just to see his face.

“You’re not going back?” He tucked his head into your hair to muffle his laugh.

“Indiana sucks, I’m here to stay, promise. Besides, you said you had nightmares, right. I’m not just gonna leave you to deal with that on your own.”

He leaned over to kiss your tears away causing you to laugh at the feeling. You lifted your head to meet his lips with your own, and for a second the two of you forget the rest of the world exists. You can taste salt from each other’s tears and he feels himself smiling into the kiss, hands going up to cradle your face when suddenly you both hear a Meow.

Pulling away the two of you watch Alpine nudge your thigh as if to say ‘It's my turn for attention!’ The two of you smiling and crying and holding in a fit of giggles as your stare at the little puff of fur meowing at you and clawing at the sheets.

As the laughter and meowing died down, so did your energy, and the two of you settled into bed. It was almost as it was before. His arms wrapped around you. your head delicately tucked into the crook of his neck, arms wrapped around his waist. A small fur ball settled at the foot of the bed. With the promise of a million more words, and a million more nights together.

[fadedin2u]

hihi, not sure if ur taking in requests but could u write a fic where ellie comforts reader?? or basically js a fluff fic/ one shot? theres not enough fluff on here and im sad i need something happy😭😭😭

yuppppp

content: you get sick, and ellie takes care of you.

warning: reader vomits (sick asf), reader is referred to as ellie’s “girlfriend”, but otherwise not specified afab or not

notes: i love a good hurt/comfort drabble and LOVE writing fluff so if anyone has any fluff requests i will write them!! also this is fairly short so oops

———

today has been hell.

you spent the day sick as hell, alone, in ellie’s little garage while ellie was on patrol. she left you in the wee hours of the morning, groaning as she pulled herself out of the warm cocoon of her bed with you, haphazardly throwing on whatever clothes (clean or not) that were in the nearby vicinity. when she got up and unknowingly woke you up as she stumbled around the room, you could feel that your stomach felt off, but you were too exhausted to do anything other than fall back asleep.

about an hour later, with sunlight streaming through the dusty window panes, you awoke again, this time due to the lurching of your stomach. you leapt out of ellie’s bed, running to her small bathroom, where you promptly emptied the minimal contents of your stomach into the toilet’s basin. you heaved a few more times until you were sure that you weren’t at risk of throwing anything else up and flushed the toilet. once you brushed your teeth with the toothbrush you keep at ellie’s, you crawled back into her bed.

even though you were no longer actively nauseous, your stomach wouldn’t settle, your body wracked with chills. you knew that you should probably go back to your own home, sleep in your own bed to not put ellie at risk of catching anything, but the thought of braving the winter snow in your state was enough to keep you where you were. you knew that you had stable duty that day, but you couldn’t even imagine getting out of bed to let your supervisor know that you weren’t fit to work today.

your eyes and body felt unimaginably heavy, and soon, you feel back into a restless sleep.

——

“babe? you feeling okay?”

you awoke to a cold hand on your forehead, and you slowly blinked your eyes open, slowly focusing on ellie’s freckled face frowning down at you.

when ellie had gotten back from a long, boring patrol, maria approached her, letting ellie know that her girlfriend had been a no-show for stable duty that morning. maria seemed more concerned than anything, knowing that you weren’t the type to skip out on work without at least a notice of some sort.

ellie’s stomach filled with anxiety and she quickly made her way to your small home, where she found an absence of you. dread coursed through her veins as she trudged quickly through the snow, back to her own garage, where she was met with relief when she saw you curled up in her sheets.

you weren’t normally the type to sleep in until 3pm, so as soon as she saw you still asleep, she knew something must be up, and when she felt the scalding heat of the skin on your forehead, she sighed.

“you’re burning up, sweetheart,” ellie murmurs, her brows furrowed as she sits on the bed next to you.

you wince, your voice rough with sleep, “yeah, that makes sense.”

“how are you feeling?”

“i feel like shit… i threw up in your toilet, but i promise i’ll clean it soon.”

ellie frowns more, “dude. don’t worry about cleaning my toilet right now. have you had anything to eat or drink?”

you shake your head and she sighs.

“i swear, i cant leave you alone for longer than two seconds or all hell breaks loose,” ellie teases, her thumb stroking your warm cheek before she stands up, “stay here.”

you huff a laugh, unable to entertain the idea of rolling over, let alone leaving. “sounds like a plan.”

ellie quickly goes to first get you a glass of water, watching you as you drink some of it, before jolting inside joel’s house, raiding his kitchen for some leftover soup stored in the fridge. she puts it on the stove to heat up, and within 15 minutes, she’s carrying a warm bowl of minestrone soup into her garage. she helps you sit up and places the soup on your lap.

you smile gratefully up at her after eating a spoonful, “thanks els, seriously. i didn’t want you to have to come back from patrol and baby me but-“

ellie cuts you off, sitting down on her bed against your side, “i’m happy to do it. i want you feeling good, and you’d do the same for me.”

you give her a look, “you wouldn’t let me do the same for you.”

ellie shrugs, “that’s because i’m an asshole. you’re not, so let me take care of you, okay?”

you roll your eyes, “oh my god… fine. thank you.”

you eat in silence while ellie leans against you, her arm wrapped around you and pulling her more into her side. when you’ve eaten as much as you can, ellie takes the bowl and places it on her bedside table.

“can i hold you for a bit?” ellie asks softly, her hand smoothing over your back.

“you’re gonna get sick, els…” you protest, but you’re already leaning into her more.

ellie scoffs, lying down with you and holding you close against her side, still rubbing your back. “my immune system is impenetrable, i swear. your weak ass flu germs can’t do shit.”

you laugh a little, your leg tossed over her body as you nuzzle into the crook of her neck. “so are you calling my immune system weak then?”

ellie gives you a cocky smile, “most definitely. puny, even.”

you punch her side softly, and she jolts, groaning, “ow! hey, i’m just stating facts!”

you roll you eyes again, giggling a little before closing your eyes and melting into the warmth of her body. “yeah, sure. we’ll see about that.”

ellie smiles to herself softly, content. “get some sleep, your body probably needs all the rest it can get.”

you hum in agreement and yawn, “yeah, definitely…”

ellie keeps tracing shapes and letters into your back as you fall back asleep, and eventually, lulled by your slightly feverish warmth, she falls asleep as well.

in the morning, when ellie is groaning about her own stomach hurting as she gets ready to tell maria she won’t be able to make it to patrol, you laugh to yourself and say nothing. this time, at least, she actually lets you help take care of her in return.