#perhaps even an interactive fic of some sort

[cquackity]

okay last thing I will say before I Stop beating a dead horse is that getting Into dsmp I remember thinking before casinoroyale that I always wanted to write a long tntduo centric slow burn that was my DREAM for content creating for this fandom. and I'm really happy i got to do that :") and that I got to do it with one of my best friends

[desireangel]

Dark Cherry [3] | Aemond Targaryen

Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Summary: after months of a marriage that hardly harbours the passion that you'd dreamed about, you stumble across the reason for your husband's indifference and decide enough is enough. Aemond will learn just exactly what he's been missing out on.

Word Count: 6.9k

Warnings: MDNI 18+!! smut, angst!!!!!!, unedited, infidelity, revenge cheating, oral (m receiving), kinda slightttt dub con if you squint w/ Aegon x reader, Aemond is frustrating, so is reader tbh, slight deviation from canon? again, if you squint, soft!aemond if you also squint. But also---angry Aemond (rahhhhhh), tell me if I've missed any warnings!

Author's note: my APOLOGIES on the wait, y'all. Hopefully this scratches an itch!! it's 11PM here, which is the earliest I've ever posted a fic funnily enough. I also reallyyyyy appreciate the love on this series so far!!! Love you all. As always, please don't hesitate to comment or to interact or hmu in my inbox w/ me bc I LOVE yapping with you guys. Send in feedback or criticism (but like I'll cry if it's super mean) or some headcannons!! or even your best dad joke. Anyways, xoxo kisses!!! <3

Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen was an intelligent man. Yet for some reason, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had been acting as the realm’s largest imbecile. 

Time and time again, Aemond had let his ego and his pride run ahead of his brain, and had failed to think of the effect that his actions had on people other than himself. Sure, he cared for those who were important to him. His sister, his mother, his grandfather, Ser Cole, Aegon (although Aemond may not have realised it) and even to some extent his wife. 

He realised, perhaps too late, that you may as well be a stranger to him. And at one point, Aemond had truly believed that keeping whatever unlucky woman he was to wed at arms length would be for the best. 

The first time he met you was insignificant. It was as per tradition and formality. Aemond’s interactions up until the wedding was mainly with your family, despite the efforts you made to acquaint yourself with him properly. You were much more timid then, shyer than Aemond had expected from the to-be wife of a weaponised prince. But then again, he had only assumed that a Lady like his mother would have been chosen for him; confident, cunning and strong-headed. 

At the time he had begun to understand you better, Aemond had lost track of himself. A sort of descent into darkness where he went from a young prince to a man, eager to prove himself at whatever cost. Satisfied by the control he gained through fear, strength and reputation. Now that he had stopped to think about his marriage, after you had left him hard and desperate in his own bed, Aemond came to realise a few things. 

You were a purity among the wickedness and politics of the Red Keep. An inherently good person and a woman of grace, kindness and compassion. He had already noticed the dwindling of those traits brought on by your new life, confined to the walls of a fortress that was littered with deceit, distrust and gore. Aemond was a far darker entity than you–he had accepted this fact after the first true conversation you shared. 

Corrupting you was both tempting and terrifying. Aemond had always been loveless–deprived of the affection he craved and deserved but also clueless about how to give that affection. And while he wished he could learn how to right himself and how to quell the carelessness of his temperament and the destruction that was left in its wake, Aemond didn’t know how to. 

Perhaps it would come naturally. He was a lot more open to that notion now, despite the fact that most of him was convinced he was incapable of such change. 

Aemond regretted–something he didn’t feel often–how he had pushed you away. Even if he had not intended to. 

Because now, he was starting to see you as you were. A woman who had far more of an influence over his emotions than he realised–a woman who he had begun to crave the affections of in such an intensity that it only served to scare him away from you. At one stage, you had been another stranger among the walls of his home bound to him in nothing but title but, at some point throughout this ridiculous game that he had stupidly encouraged, Aemond had started to see you as his wife. 

The whore that he had let into his bed was not actually a whore. It was a woman Aemond had known–a witch whom he had shared the pleasures of his body with before the two of you had wed. Alys was always eager for him and once, he would have returned it with his own enthusiasm. Not anymore. She was simply an easier option. A whore would never sully the sanctity of his chambers. It wouldn’t have made a difference if he had been honest and told you that Alys was not from the Street of Silk. 

To anyone who came asking, including you, Aemond would first admit to taking a whore into his bed than a lowly witch.

He cursed himself for letting his honour fall so short that this is what it took for him to wake up. For him to have tainted his loyalty to you, to have let a woman whom he could barely get it up for shatter the confines of his marriage, for him to have been left unwound with a hard cock, his hand and only the scent of you on his thigh to release the tension that was driving him mad. 

Aemond wished he hadn’t been so short sighted. He would subject himself to whatever punishment he deserved should it be the burn of a whip against his back or the sickening ache of starvation if you were to demand it. 

All of a sudden, in the days that had passed since your encounter on his bed, Aemond found himself looking for you throughout his day. He hoped you’d cross each other in the halls, cursed the world for keeping him too busy to spend an afternoon with you in the gardens, sworn at the war that was raging for binding him to his duties and keeping you apart. 

So at the first opportunity he had to take time for himself and for the first time in your short marriage, Aemond had called upon you to join him for afternoon tea.You stared at the young servant who had been sent to retrieve you, half wondering if you had heard the boy incorrectly. Had he called you simply one moon ago, you would have dropped everything you were doing to meet your husband for tea with a grin and a skip in your step at the prospect of finally spending time with him on his own accord. 

But now? It both excited you and infuriated you. 

You gave the boy a soft smile, holding your reserve together when his face dropped at your refusal. “You may tell my husband that I am otherwise attended to for my tea.”

It wasn’t a lie. You had important plans for the afternoon with the other Targaryen son. 

The servant stood still for a moment. “Yes, my Lady.”

“The rest of my afternoon is already engaged with the King,” you purposefully added, a mixture of adrenaline and excitement beginning to simmer in your belly. “Tell him I will take tea with him another time.”

You were walking away from your chambers before the servant had turned to leave. A part of you felt bad for him. Anyone would be wary of delivering rejection to a prince. It felt as if you were sending him to his death in a way, knowing that the seemingly innocent excuse was balancing on a wire that was already frayed. If the young servant had known of your sly plan for revenge, he would have spoiled his breeches. 

There was a chance Aemond would catch on straight away. There was a chance that he would take a little longer. 

Either way, so long as he caught on, everything would unfold in your favor.

Aegon had been waiting for you, a mischievous smile on his lips at the sight of you eagerly rushing towards him. He was an immature and distracted King, and he was definitely not without his flaws, but he had never been bad to you. Sometimes, you even appreciated Aegon’s efforts to involve you in conversation or to pull a smile out of you when you had clearly been distressed. Nonetheless, he was still an infuriating cad and you had often considered giving in to violent urges at the way he treated Helaena. 

Helaena. 

A stab of guilt in your gut at the thought of her. Sure, she had confided in you on numerous occasions and you knew she felt little care for Aegon’s outwards ventures with women but you knew she was saddened by the state of her marriage. And here you were, as wretched as the whore that Aemond had bedded. It was no different; you were doing the same thing as her. Only it wasn’t your job; you weren’t doing it for the money. 

The satisfaction of bringing Aemond down to the same level he had brought you to was all the motivation you needed. It would be treading a thin line but it would be worth it. 

“I had wondered how long it would take you to find yourself in my chambers, Princess,” Aegon’s voice held that boyish shrill he had never grown out of. The way he had stepped aside to let you pass, eyes holding yours through his lashes as he dipped his head with a grin. “For a cup of tea, of course.”

Comparing Aegon’s chambers to Aemond’s was instinctual. It was brighter here, messier and there was an unkempt feel to the furniture despite the servant’s having kept things relatively put together. A King’s chambers, it was; grand and large and adorned with all sorts of artistry. Aemond’s chambers had held a darker tone; presumably because Aemond was sensitive to light on his blind eye and somehow even the glow of light from the lamps were deeper and warmer. 

You liked Aemond’s chambers better. 

“It has been overdue, Your Grace,” you weren’t sure of that. “Thank you for indulging me this afternoon. I wager a King such as yourself is no short of duties to tend to.” 

Aegon scoffed, pouring himself a cup of wine as he watched you take a seat at the small settee from the corner of his eye. “My family seems to be taking care of my duties on my behalf. I am a king in nought but title, you see.”

There was nothing you could say at his unbridled honesty. Aegon was different to most of the people who presided here in that way. He cared little to hide behind a facade of false indifference and stoicism. 

He fell to the cushion beside you, close enough so you could smell the drink he balanced in his hand. Aegon laid back lazily, resting on his elbows and watching you as you sat pin-straight and brought the piping tea to your lips. “‘Tis not a concern. I would much prefer to have more comely company than those clueless cunts who sit on my counsel.”

“I do not doubt that, Your Grace,” you coughed lightly, growing alarmingly aware of the fact that you hadn’t thought about how this was going to play out. There was absolutely nothing that you knew about seducing a king. No less, a king with Aegon’s track record. “I beli-”

“You have been different,” He cut you off. Swiftly pushing himself up so that his face was beside yours, breath tickling the strands of your hair that had fallen loose across your cheek. Aegon’s lips were gently turned up as his eyes traced every curve of your face. 

Swallowing thickly, you will yourself to meet his eye with confidence. The curiosity in his familiar violet eyes was paired with an immature lust and you wondered if he had any idea how easy it could be to use his forward thinking cock against him were you a woman of cunning ambitions. You didn’t miss how his gaze flickered across your throat and towards the curve of your chest. 

But something in the way that Aegon looked at you in that moment, like you were a woman of such beauty that he would risk whatever consequences were sent his way just to feel your touch sent a slither of saddened longing across your chest. Not even your husband had made you feel as if you were so captivating. 

It made the knowledge of how ever long you’d be alone with him far easier to stomach.

“I do not know of what you mean, Your Grace.”

Aegon laughed, bringing his face so close to yours that the point of his nose touched against your cheek. His hand fell to rest flat just above your belly, brazenly close to where your dress tucked underneath the curve of your breasts. 

“I know well when a Lady is not…” he dragged his nose across your soft skin, eyes carefully watching your reaction. “Sufficiently satisfied by her husband.”

Your breath hitched at how quickly Aegon had set his target. “If you mean to-”

“Does my dear brother forego his duties for the comfort of whores, perhaps?”

Pursing your lips, you gently turned your face so that your lips were centimetres away from his, Aegon’s fringe brushing across your forehead. There was a ringing in your ears, a nervousness about how you were so close to betraying your husband and how you were unsure that you could handle the fallout of what was definitely about to happen. Things are much different for women; infidelity and adultery would be grounds for far worse than simply an annulment. This world was not so kind to a lady who partakes in the same treachery as a lord.

Above all, you were conflicted.

“It seems my husband is no different to any other man who does not hunger for his wife.”

“I hunger for his wife,” Aegon all but moaned at the way your lips nudged closer to his. He cocked his head to the side and pressed his fingers into your flesh. “But I am no fool, my Lady. Aemond has always been the sole object of your gaze. You are here for more sinister reasons, I suspect.”

You blinked. Why did these Targaryen princes so often seem to be one step ahead?

It was a relief that he had not moved away from your closeness. In fact, Aegon leaned further into it. His smile never faltered and he waited patiently for you, watching as you thought of your next moves. There was a flush of embarrassment that prettied your skin and it was clear that your facade was close to crumbling. Aegon was not a man you desired in such a way. Merely a means to an end. 

So you sighed, resigning to the fact that being honest with Aegon would be best. 

“You are right,” you muttered. He shook with a silent laugh at your bravery and the way your chin remained turned up. “I-I believe you are aware of my intentions, Your Grace. Will you have me dragged back to Prince Aemond’s feet or will you allow my scheme?”

Aegon was in front of you in a matter of seconds, bending down so that he met your height as you stayed seated. “I would risk meeting the wrath of a man whose temperament and pride are unchained.”

“Teach me how to make it worth it then, my King,” you held strong in forcing the tremble out of your voice. You didn’t want to bed him entirely–absolutely not. Just what you had seen through the gap in Aemond’s door would be more than enough and there was a bubbling gratification in your stomach knowing that Aemond would not be able handle what he had so easily served out. 

His hand held the back of your neck and he jerked forward to catch your lips, grunting when you turned your head from him. You couldn’t kiss him. You weren’t interested in kissing him–only fulfilling the steady thrum of excitement at the need to both experience what you had been teased with and show your husband that he should be sorry. 

In fact, and you were loathsome to even rationalise it, you felt sick at the thought of kissing him. And you felt a little drop in your gut at the thought of taking him in any kind of way but it was different. Less frightening than kissing a man you were trying so hard to convince yourself was sexy enough.

There was no man for your body’s desires aside from Aemond Targaryen-–

A deep breath and you looked at Aegon through your lashes, bringing your fingers to feel the softness of his lips. “I do not want you to fuck me, Your Grace. But show me how I may give you pleasure with my mouth. And how a man can satisfy me with his.”

Aegon became excited at your use of such foul language, his hand remaining behind your neck as he straightened and guided you roughly to his hips, groaning as your hands instinctively found his thighs and moved upwards. He was painfully hard in his breeches–he had been since the first moment you looked at him with that stubborn intent and purpose. 

There was a strong urge to push him away but you fought through it. 

“I am sure your husband is already searching for his brazen little vixen,” Aegon watched as you breathed heavily, your chest heaving and your soft breasts pressing against the tightly laced corset of your dress. “And I am sure you wish for him to find us. Very cunning of you, I must say.” 

His touch didn’t pull that feeling from you. The feeling of Aemond’s touch that had made you feel as if you were floating in lava and drowning in a molten heat that could only be quelled by him. But it made your blood rush down, growing sensitive between your thighs at the prospect of pleasuring a man who openly lusted for you and had no care for hiding it. 

Aegon didn’t care for games that shattered your self-worth. He didn’t care to make you feel lesser than a whore for your curiosity of how it felt to have a man tremble from your mouth. All he wanted was to feed his appetite for you–the beautiful Lady who he had envied his brother for having to himself.

“I want to learn how to do it,” you whispered, melting into Aegon’s guidance as he hastily fiddled with the embellishments on his tunic to undo half of it and push the velvet fabric out of the way. The laced belt at his waist was discarded in seconds and you took little time to pull him out of the confines of his breeches. “So I can–so I can show him.”

There was a certain light headed nervousness that you felt when you realised that you don’t actually know how to do what you wished to. It seemed easy enough when you watched how that woman had given Aemond her mouth but now that you were faced with trying it out yourself, you worried how you would fare. Aegon triggered a natural response from you, one that you had learned was instinctual of human bodies, but you just could not find him desirable. 

Momentarily, you doubted you could find it in you to disregard your aversion to the King. An aversion that suddenly became more pressing an issue than it was merely seconds ago.

Aegon must have noticed your apprehension because he guided you forward, the hardened length of his cock brushing against your face. He was breathing heavily when he spoke. “Lick it. Use your tongue first and then-fuck, that’s right-” you hesitantly followed his instructions, dragging the tip of your tongue across the sides of him, gentle flicks down to the base and then a long stripe up to the top. It was an invigorating thrill when you felt him throb against your mouth. His hips jerked when you hesitantly wrapped your lips around him. 

It was slightly uncomfortable but it was not a bad feeling. Aegon tasted musky and salty, and a little bit sweaty. You took a moment to find the best way to stop your teeth from grazing against him and started to move along him, watching as he threw his head back, eyes shut tightly. 

The image of your husband stayed ingrained in your head. Would Aemond taste the same? Would he feel the same on your tongue? Would his cock react to you in such a way? Would you enjoy taking him in your mouth more than whatever this was?

Shamefully or not, you let yourself pretend that Aegon was not the man standing above you. That it was Aemond instead, enjoying what you were keen to give him and praising you for being so eager to taste him. 

You wished so hard that it was Aemond instead, that for a moment, when you gazed upwards it was him looking down at you with his hair falling perfectly and his eyepatch discarded. Alas, it was King Aegon, who revelled in staring at you with an amusement coupled with bliss that only felt belittling. 

It did set your body into a light rush of arousal but you couldn’t stop the doubts that flooded your mind. Were you dishonouring the sanctity of your body out of spite? Were you betraying the man you almost loved just to have a jab at him? Guilty tickles grew in your ribcage but you distracted yourself from it, focusing on the way that Aegon steered your movements. 

“Shit,” he hissed. Aegon’s hand found the back of your head and he adjusted your pace how he preferred. “Use your hand. What doesn’t fit–hold it.”

It became slightly easier once you found your rhythm, following each instruction that Aegon gave, drinking in the way his thigh trembled under your hand that rested against it, holding yourself stable as you hollowed your cheeks. Whatever you did, it almost came naturally and Aegon seemed to be enjoying it far more than you had expected. 

But it quickly became too much–Aegon started thrusting in a way that didn’t match your movements and you gagged, eyes burning at the ache of him hitting the top of your throat. You made a noise, pulling off and gasping for air, whining as he tugged your mouth back to him and chuckling. Lungs burning, you tried to meet whatever pace Aegon was moving at in an attempt to make things more comfortable. 

You reminded yourself of why you were here. The image of Aemond, head thrown back and groans slipping past his lips as he let that woman take him in his mouth. The image of Aemond, head buried between her legs, the skin on his chin glistening as he smirked at you while pleasure another woman. 

The feeling when your courtly acquaintances who you once thought of as friends would slyly belittle you for failing to give your husband an heir, belittling you because word of his infidelity had reached their gossiping mouths, belittling you because the Prince who they loathed you for having was hardly yours after all. The looks that they had given you, the way that they snickered and sneered at your failures as his wife. Whispers you had overheard from Lords alike; that for such a pretty thing, you must have been dreadfully dull in the ways of pleasure if Prince Aemond of all men had resorted to whores. 

That was how they all saw you; a failure. Because it was never a man’s fault but always his wife’s. 

You loathe to think that Aemond harboured the same thoughts. But you would show him how mistaken he was and make him feel what you had felt so that he would regret it all. 

“Fuck-” Aegon let out a drawn out groan as he pushed your head down, pushing himself as far down your throat as he could. You struggled to breath and you gagged twice but let him move you as he pleased, a satisfactory moan vibrating against his sensitive skin when he threw his head back and grumbled about spilling himself down your throat. 

It was a chaotic moment. 

The protest of the kingsguard through the wall and the bang of the door slamming open and you didn’t even need to turn and look. Aemond was seething, barely given the chance to put the pieces together before Aegon simultaneously groaned and laughed, the salty taste of his seed gliding past a sensitive part of your throat and pulling another gag from you as you yanked yourself away from Aegon. 

Everything seemed to pause for a moment. And despite the obnoxious laughter coming from the King as he tucked himself back into his breeches, the heavy breathing of your husband and your gasps for air, everything felt silent. 

Your blood ran hot at the way Aemond looked between you and Aegon. Nonetheless you met his eye, holding your chin up and wiping a bead of Aegon’s peak from your lip. 

It felt good. Watching as Aemond forced himself back into his stoic resolve; only bothering to subdue the way his eye filled with the same betrayal you still felt in your gut at the thought of the whore who had been on her knees for him in an almost identical way. 

Stoicism and slow, simmering, silent rage. 

The air around you turned hot enough to light a candle. Aemond’s presence alone had proven to be enough to send you spiralling from the heat he encased you in whenever he was in the same room but this? You were choking, sick to your stomach and doing your best to keep your knees from buckling at his intensity. 

Aemond heard Aegon ramble out some hideous insult, watched how you frowned at him and heard the echoes of his cackle. But the ringing in his ears overwhelmed it all and he had no clue what his brother had taunted him with before his fist met Aegon’s cheek with a loud crack.

He didn’t bother sparing his brother a second glance. Aemond was stood in front of you and despite his obvious anger, he pulled you up from where you were seated with a gentleness which had your mind reeling. 

There was a threat hidden in his voice. “Come with me. Now.”

Perhaps you had made a mistake. The gentle fury in Aemond was terrifying and even though you knew he would never raise a hand at you the way he thoughtlessly did at Aegon, there were so many ways that a Prince could ruin you. 

You felt a pit of regret now that it was over and the curtain of lust had lifted. It was easy to see how simple it is to get lost in the touch of another but it was easier to see how simple it is to avoid it. 

There was satisfaction. And you felt it simultaneously with the adrenaline of being caught and the doubts of your actions. Princes and Princesses and Kings and Queens were so unaware of their hypocrisy until it was spat back into their faces. 

Aemond would never in a million years have understood what he was doing to you if you had just been a submissive little wife and forgiven him. But now? Now he would know. And now things would be balanced and your desire to hurt him as he had done you has been fulfilled. And now you could see how this marriage would really stand against such tests.

And now, you may finally know whether Aemond truly did not care for you. Because if Aemond did not care for you–or even in part; love you–then he would not be hurt and he would not be feeling such betrayal.

Right now, as Aemond silently walked you towards his chambers, hands fisted, jaw clenched tightly and his gaze fixed ahead, you were fearful of how things would fare. As strong as you wished for your resolve to stay, Aemond’s disappointment was showing you a new weakness. And his words, you knew, if they were used as weapons then you would stand little chance against them. There was a heavy weight against your lower back where his hand sat, pushing you gently so that you glided through the halls faster. 

It wasn’t a long journey back to Aemond’s quarters. But it felt like hours to the Prince, the nausea in his gut silencing him the entire way. He felt like a child again, presented with a pig instead of a dragon, the shrill laughs of his cousins and his brother striking him with flashes of humiliation. 

Again and again and again, Aegon would do whatever he could to see Aemond crumble. Aegon would always take Aemond’s dignity, his honour, his crown. And now he just had to take his wife? 

Aemond shut the doors to his chambers roughly and you were quick to put some distance between the two of you. There was a hollow ball of guilt and fear that caught in your throat but you couldn’t deny the elation at the mixture of emotions in Aemond’s eye as he turned to face you. 

It was a reflection of how you had felt upon finding Aemond in bed with another. He would finally understand. 

Only Aemond was worlds away from the damned arousal you had felt and instead it was replaced with a youthful dread, a panic that you had never seen from him before now. 

There was hardly a moment for you to register the harshness of Aemond’s grip on your bicep as he pulled you toward the bowl that was kept by his bath, filled with clean water and accompanied by a tray of freshening oils. He lightly shoved you toward it as he let you go, unfazed by the sound of shock that you could not hold back. 

“Wash your mouth,” he spat. Although your back was to him, you could feel how he suppressed the extent of his rage as he was ever so good at doing. “And then we will talk.”

You bit your tongue and did as he said, wincing at the ice in his words and the angry strain of his voice. There was a lot that you wanted to say, to scream at him. He was angry–and to some extent he had every right to be–but how could Aemond have expected you to be okay with something that he clearly could not take on the chin?

But the way he had held you, the tone of his voice and the harshness in his glare had you wondering if revenge was worth whatever comes next. Because, amongst the whirlwind of fear and guilt and regret was gratification and fulfilment. 

The prickle of Aemond’s glare had disappeared before you were ready to dry your mouth with a towel. Quiet as ever, he had snuck away and by the time you had realised, the sound of the door shutting and the click of the lock had notified you of his absence. 

Aemond had locked you in. When you had swiftly tried to push the doors open, unaware of where you would go and truthfully not intending to leave in the first place, it didn’t budge. And when you called for the kingsguard who stood at the other side of the door, you went unanswered aside from a curt reply that he had been ordered not to let you leave. 

So you had resigned yourself to sitting atop Aemond’s bed rather than the seating arrangements scattered around the rest of the quarters. It smelled strongly of lavender, leather and Aemond’s very own scent–the one that always had you on the verge of drooling. But it only sent your nerves into overdrive, afraid that the consequences of your vengefulness, no matter how satisfying it was initially, may be too dire to recover from. 

The thought of whatever Aemond had planned for Aegon was not nice. You were correct in assuming that your tryst with Aegon would only cut your husband deeper because it was Aegon. The depth of whatever issues these brothers shared was far beyond you but you had only assumed that all second born princes would be affected in such a way. And Targaryen’s were full of complexities, each believing that they were better than everyone. Even their own siblings. 

Aegon had known that his younger brother would become nothing short of murderous. But he had never been a man to avoid even the slightest of temptations. Both the idea of indulging in you and inflaming the ever unresponsive Aemond were far more than slightly tempting. It would be worth the bloodied nose, the split lip and the sick that he’d spewed over his shoes when Aemond had returned to grace him with an inhumanly strong hit to his balls. Somehow, Aemond had made that act of violence seem like child’s play with the threats that he had rained down upon Aegon. 

King Aegon, who simply did not know when to keep his mouth shut and had all but asked for it with the way he taunted Aemond with a sentence he never had the chance to complete. “Seeing as you cannot satisfy even your own wife-”

He wasn’t there long. Aemond’s angry mind was racing and he couldn’t think past the red of his rage. But Aemond still knew better than to stay where he would surely commit a treason he would regret. 

Whatever fury Aemond had unleashed upon Aegon in the short time he was away had seemed to calm him down. He was still clearly angry when he stepped back into his quarters but there was a far less frightening storm brewing in his eye. 

At his return, you had stood from the bed. The air was sucked right out of the room when Aemond stood right in front of you, so close that you could count the creases in the leather of his eyepatch. There was a tense silence in which he stared at you, waiting for you to fold but you only held your head high and met his gaze stubbornly. 

Minutes had passed before Aemond spoke. His voice was far softer than you had expected and he seemed to have settled down a bit as he dragged his knuckles across your cheek, only to grip your chin so that you could not look away from him. Aemond held you tightly but not tight enough that it hurt.

“Enough of this,” It was an order, stern and unrelenting. “No more. This was a step too far-”

You scoffed in his face. “A step too far? Had you not done the same thing?”

Aemond had never in his life apologised for anything. He never felt sorry. And he never wished to admit to his mistakes. But here he was, face to face with the effects of one of the biggest mistakes he had made. If there were anything he could have done aside from apologise, he would have done it. But it was the only thing that would ease the mess of guilt that had arisen inside of him. For what he had done with the whore and for everything he hadn’t done for your marriage. 

“It was a mistake. If I could undo it, I would,” I’m sorry. “This was childish of you. Vengefulness is unbecoming.”

There was a beastly disgust that Aemond felt when he thought of another man even looking at you. The image of Aegon’s cock in your mouth, his seed leaking from your lips made him want to burn the entire realm to ashes. Aemond’s eye trailed along your jaw, to your neck and then down past your stomach. Did Aegon touch you where only he was to touch you?

Fuck treason. Aemond would feed Aegon to Vhagar if he had indulged in your body. 

“It is more than vengeance. You would not have understood what I felt. How I suffered because of you and your whore,” you tried your best to keep your voice stable. The lump in your throat and the tears that blurred your vision forced you to pull out of Aemond’s grip and turn your back to him. “You promised me you would never do that. You dishonoured me. You insulted me. You hurt me–Aemond, do you have any idea the things that they say about me?”

Aemond frowned and you could not see how he reached for you, only to drop his hand back to his side. “I–”

“That I am a failure. That I am-that I am so repulsive and so dull that you cannot even lay with me to produce an heir,” you couldn’t help the sob that escaped you. “And I saw what she was doing to you, what you were doing to her. I could never even have imagined the existence of such an act that had given you so much pleasure-”

“There was no true pleasure with her.” Aemond mumbled. Pathetically. 

Pathetic was exactly the word. Aemond may have been good with a sword, in a fight, with his dragon and when strategizing wars. But he was a pathetic husband–a pathetic partner, a pathetic lover. And he had the urge to take out his good eye for being so mindless and so ignorant. 

Hindsight was his worst enemy, it seemed. Because in hindsight, Aemond would have done everything differently, right from the moment you were introduced to him.

“Lie. It was clear, Aemond. They are all right, are they not?” You felt him step into you, his warm chest against your back. Leather and lavender and him. “I have failed. My womb is still empty. The last time you visited my bed was moons ago. I know you do not love me, my Prince, but I have love for you. Men are not the only ones who need intimacies of the body–I needed that and you have never given me anything. Yet you gave it to her. I wished to hurt you as you had hurt me.”

There were no words that Aemond could find. So he settled for shaking his head and watching you as you sat yourself down on the edge of his bed, staring down at your hands on your lap. You were so wrong in your perception of him but he couldn’t find the words to explain that. But Aemond decided in that moment that he would show you, one way or another. He hesitated before sitting beside you. 

You couldn’t meet his eye if you tried. It was as if your body was telling you to stop talking, that these thoughts were too painful to share, feelings too abstract and tender to put into words. 

“It is wretched, I know–to have turned to Aegon,” you felt him tense beside you and against your better judgement, you placed a hand on his thigh in an attempt to give him some comfort. “I wished to hurt you but I also wished to learn. I thought maybe if I knew how to-how to do things that would make you feel good so that maybe you would feel for me as I have for you. Aegon said he could show me. It is ridiculous, I understand that now.”

Aemond took your hand in his, the heat of your skin against his was fierce for such an insignificant action. He hated that it was easier for you to turn to Aegon than it was to turn to him. “I could have shown you. I can show you so much more. If only we had been honest with each other from the beginning.”

“I thought you do not want me.”

He sucked in a sharp breath. It would be less painful to drive his own dagger through his heart. “I crave for you, my love. I was just too stubborn to admit it and too afraid of what it means. And I did not know how to show you how badly I burn for you.”

The sight of tears had never fazed him until they were yours. Aemond was not particularly pious, he prayed simply because his mother had raised him to pray, but he would be on his knees every hour of every day if it meant that he could take these feelings away from you. If it meant that he could take it all back and start over. 

“I am sorry. No more of this,” you said. “No more seeking out the touch of anyone else in place of each other.”

“I will be a better husband,” Aemond stated, as if he were telling it to himself as much as he was to you. “I will try for our marriage and our duty. And for you.”

“Your promises haven’t proven to mean much to me. All is not forgiven just because we have talked,” You sighed, but gave him a weak smile, turning to look at him. 

He gazed down at you with determination, his jaw tight and his eye glistening with tears that wouldn’t fall. There was no attempt to push you away when you reached up to take off the leather that covered his bad eye. You wanted to see him as he was, even if only for a moment.

Gods, he was beautiful. 

As you stood you forced your smile to turn lighthearted as you teased him through your heavy hearts. “Jealousy motivates you well, my Prince. I shall remember that.”

Aemond hummed, mostly serious as his hands tightly grabbed your hips. “Do not jest like that. I will not be able to look at Aegon without dreaming of murdering him for defiling you how only I should. I cannot afford such treasonous fantasies.”

There was a silent threat in his words. Nonetheless, you leaned down to his ear, gasping gently at the harshness of his fingers squeezing the flesh of your hips. Just his hands on your body alone set you alight. 

“Perhaps my husband should leave the door to his bedchambers open tonight,” you let out a small laugh at the way that he pulled you to straddle his lap so suddenly, gently nipping the skin of his earlobe. You weren’t quite done messing with him. 

“Is that so?” He smiled and you thought that it made him all the more beautiful. 

“Yes,” you smirked, when he groaned frustratedly at your next words, softly throwing you onto the bed. “I may wish to show you exactly what I have learned.”

[heartsforhavik]

hi i was wondering if you would do headcannons of the yan!fanboy if reader actually noticed him coming to all their shows and events

obsessed (superfan! yandere boy x gn!popstar reader)

warnings: stalking, average yandere tendencies, nsfw, perverted yandere, gender neutral reader, mentions of naked reader but no genitalia addressed, dom reader, reader is compliant with the yandere and teases him a ton, lowercase intended. btw i do not condone yanderes irl.

a/n: i hope y'all know i read every single one of your asks, comments, and reblogs. i appreciate them all and they do brighten my day. i'm just saying this so y'all know that the stuff you send to other writers (not just me) matters a lot!! when you interact it gives them inspiration!!! and motivation!! me personally sometimes i see ONE kind reblog and i immediately get my ass up and start writing something just because of that one person. don't get me wrong, i still love all my lurkers that silently like a ton of my stuff, y'all are important too. anyways i'll shut up now onto the hcs. (btw this ended up being a fic instead of hcs i apologize. i went crazy over this i'm sorry anon LMAO)

"hey, you look pretty familiar. have you been to a few shows before?" you asked kindly, facing the short man in the front row of the audience.

bayani froze as the stadium's screens pointed to him. he opened his mouth in an attempt to say something, but nothing came out. his face went red and his throat went dry. did you actually notice him, or was he just dreaming?

after a few seconds of waiting for an answer, you shrugged. "sorry, maybe i mistook you for someone else. anyways..."

the yandere boy still didn't move, with his mouth agape, as you continued on with your show. the people around bayani didn't seem to care, assuming that he was just a starstruck fan. but it was more than that. much more than that.

out of the millions of fans that attend your shows and events, you recognized him among them. you noticed him. and he didn't know how to handle it. what was he supposed to say? what would you even talk about? sure, he's seen all of your interviews and heard your music and dissected your lyrics for hours every single day, but would you ever want to interact with him as much as he wanted to interact with you? he was just a lowlife. he had an average job, average amount of money, he lived in a shitty apartment, and he had no friends or major accomplishments. all of his free time outside of work was spent on you. spent on following your every move and investigating everything you've put your hands on. if you ever spoke to him, you'd probably think he was some sort of pathetic stalker.

that thought drove him mad. he couldn't even focus on the rest of your concert. he didn't hear the blaring music and screams from the crowd. he wasn't paying attention to your performance, either.

he could only stand there and imagine the punishments you'd inflict on him if you found out about his obsession. would you call your security to take him away? he'd hope not. if he's going to be kicked and pushed around, perhaps even handcuffed, he'd rather you do the job rather than some random guard. but maybe he'd accept the punishment, only because you were the one who deemed it necessary. he takes your word like gospel, so he'll take whatever punishment you want, even though he would prefer your hands on him while you do it.

his imagination ran wild as your concert finished and you walked off the stage with your dancers. the crowd of fans in the stadium dispersed around him, moving along with their day. but bayani couldn't just move on with his day knowing that you know he exists now. how is he supposed to simply move on from that? he spent a long time making sure you never noticed him. even though he attended every single one of your concerts and events, he did not want to be noticed. he knew he wouldn't be able to handle it. but it finally happened. he finally got a taste of what it's like to be seen by the love of his life. he couldn't just leave it at that. he had to do something about it.

being under your gaze, even if it was only a few seconds, made him feel like he went to heaven. it made all of the hundreds of dollars he spent on you worth it. all of the hours he spent listening to your music and watching videos of you was worth it. it was like he awoke from a slumber. a long, miserable slumber. he had to find a way to thank you. say something to you. he messed up when he simply froze after you saw him. who knows when he'll get another chance like that?

it took a few hours for the stadium to be empty, and the security started to shoo bayani away. but when he went outside, the parking lot was still full. your concert ended hours ago, but there was still loads of cars trying to leave. it would be frustrating, but bayani had to find a way out quickly.

he climbed on the back of a nearby truck and rested his legs there, waiting patiently for the vehicle to move out of the traffic. even though he knew the truck wouldn't go anywhere near your mansion, he knew how to get to your house on foot. he only needed to rest on the truck until the traffic was gone.

after a few hours on the road, he jumped out of the vehicle, and started to walk to your mansion on foot. he didn't need to look up the location online, because he already knew where it was. he visited your home many times in the past, he just never attempted to go inside before.

his veins were on fire and he started to sweat the closer he got. he was starting to have second thoughts about his idea. but there was no time to go back, because he already showed up to your house before he could change his plans.

to get inside, he had to climb up a tree, jump off of it, and land in your backyard. he used that trick often in the past, since it was not his first time going to your house. he often snuck on your property to watch or take pictures of you while you slept.

he tried opening your bedroom window, but it was locked. he had to try a different one.

he went over to a window beside your bedroom, and thankfully, it was unlocked. but the moment he opened the window, he heard the sound of water running and your familiar voice humming a song. were you in the shower?

bayani climbed inside as quietly as possible, and closed the window behind him. his suspicions were correct. he was in your bathroom, and you were taking a shower. your curtains covered up your figure, so he couldn't see you.

bayani looked to the side of the room and saw a pile of your dirty clothes on the floor. he ran up to it and immediately took a large whiff at the pile. it smelled divine to him. he couldn't get enough of it. he quickly spotted your used underwear in the pile and snatched it without thinking, then he stuffed it in his pocket. you wouldn't notice, right?

before he could take the rest of your clothes, the water suddenly stopped. bayani ran to hide, in a spot where you couldn't see him but he could see you. you opened the shower curtains and stepped out with a towel in your hands. you were completely naked, and still drenched in water. bayani felt like he died and went to heaven again that day. he couldn't believe what he was seeing. you were completely naked, right in front of his eyes. ignoring the puddle in his pants, he nervously fumbled around his pockets, trying to find his phone. there was no way he could pass up an opportunity like this. without hesitation, he snapped a photo of you.

but he didn't notice that the flash was on.

he froze, and you looked towards him. neither of you said a word, and bayani saw his future flash before his eyes. you would probably scream for security and he would get taken away to prison, never to see your face again. his life would be over.

"you're the guy i've been seeing everywhere, huh?" you whispered.

"...are you going to, uh... send me away?" bayani gulped.

you thought about it for a moment. this guy clearly cared a lot about you, because you saw him literally everywhere you went. no matter what country you visited, he was always there. even if you didn't tell a single soul where you were going, he was somehow always there. you even saw him on your property a few times, so you knew how crazy he was. but you still let him do it. and you never reported him, either. you knew exactly what he wanted. you could always hear him moaning outside your window, knowing he would have one hand down his pants and a camera on the other.

he was cute, so why not have some fun with him?

"come here." you commanded. he followed your order without thinking, immediately falling down to his knees in front of you.

you grabbed his chin, and made him look up at you. he felt hot tears well up in his eyes as you stared him down. he didn't say a word, but you knew exactly what he was thinking.

you pressed your knee against the wet stain on his pants, and he let out a pathetic whimper. he was getting off on it.

he didn't know what to do. his dreams were finally coming true. he got noticed by you, got into your house, saw you naked, and you finally touched him. he was overwhelmed, and started crying. he didn't mean to look so weak in front of you for a first impression, but he couldn't help it. besides, he'd make a fool out of himself any day for you.

"you're so pathetic.. you've been stalking me for so long, and now you break into my house to see me naked. i could call the police and have you arrested..." you whispered, as you started putting more pressure on his crotch, moving your knee up and down on it, and inching your face closer to his.

he sobbed, “please, don't! i promise, it'll never happen again. i'll stop, i'll do whatever you want, i'll-"

you cut him off by connecting your lips to his, setting his heart on fire. you pulled away after a few seconds, leaving him speechless. there's no way you just kissed him. he had to be dreaming.

and then you moved your knee away from his crotch right before he could cum, making him let out a whimper and crumble to the ground.

"thanks for letting me have some fun with you. we can do this again soon.. if you be a good boy and return my underwear." you winked, walking away and leaving bayani a hard, pathetic, leaking mess on your bathroom floor.

[honkytonk-hangman]

How It's Done – Oneshot Version

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Aviator!Reader

Originally posted by unicornships

Summary: “Like me? I didn’t even think you wanted me as a squadmate, let alone–” you stop speaking, but only because Hangman cuts his eyes sharply away from you to glare out at the ocean. “Well, I do.” He says kind of indignantly, all things considered, and eyes you almost sourly. “You can just say no if you don’t–” “–No, I do!” you quickly cut him off, because at the end of it all, you’re a little too much of a hopeless romantic to let this moment pass you by.

Warnings: erm maybe just some references to sex? jake being jake? language? minions. big warning for minions xD

Notes: Originally I intended this to be a two-parter series, but I wanted to change how it went, so I rewrote the parts I didn't like and made the entire thing into a oneshot instead!!! This fic will replace the 'part one' already on my blog, but I will keep this part up, linked at the very bottom of my masterlist! thank you everyone for being so patient! Thank you @hangmanssunnies, my love my biggest support <3

Words: 11.6k!

“Well, I’ll be damned…”

You pinch your eyes shut and steel yourself at the sound of the all too familiar Texan drawl, hanging on to the hope that perhaps he isn’t talking to you. You’re out of luck though, and moments later Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin slides into the open space next to you at the bar, already posed in a casual lean as he looks you up and down appraisingly.

It makes your teeth grind.

It makes your face hot.

“If it isn’t Mirage. Would have invited you to play with us if I’d known you were here earlier…” Hangman cocks his head, and his lips tip up in an infuriatingly perfect smile. “But one can never really be sure if you’re around or not… and that's before you get in a cockpit,” he grins, but when you meet his eye at last, he looks away from you, toward Penny who seems to approach in the nick of time, saving you from needing to respond.

You blink down at your drink, and finish it quickly, unnerved by what you think might have just been a compliment of sorts from Hangman. You’d been stationed together previously, though you weren’t friends, so you’d been expecting something a little more acidic in nature. You’d heard him interact with other aviators, knew he liked to push and poke them, usually got away with it too. For some reason though, he’d never really gone there with you and frankly you’ve always just chalked it up to not being worth his time. In fact, you’re pretty sure the only times you’d ever actually spoken had been in the sky. To be completely honest, you’re more than a little surprised that he remembers you at all.

You didn’t exactly go out of your way to stand out…

You were naturally quiet, which wasn’t helped by your social anxiety, resulting in most people describing you as extremely shy. They wouldn’t be wrong, you suppose, you did tend to keep to yourself, the idea of having too many eyes on you all but unbearable to you. But if you’d thought a roomful of people singing happy birthday to you was bad, somehow being under the unwavering stare of Hangman is approximately one thousand times worse.

“Penny, my dear… I’ll have,” he stops to glance pointedly down at your now finished beer, adjusts his stance to lean even more and unwittingly makes the muscles in his bicep bulge.

“Five more on the Old Timer,” Hangman says, nodding to the man who sits on the other side of the bar.

Internally you blanch, but externally, you say nothing and give even less away, feeling a little ping of satisfaction that apparently, you know something Hangman doesn’t. Before he’d come along, you’d been carefully watching the interaction between Penny and Captain Mitchell. You’d never met the man before, but you knew how to read military insignia, which at this point, was more than you could say for Hangman, who dismisses him quickly.

You wonder if Monday morning you’ll be able to work up the nerve to tease him about it.

You’re distracted from your thoughts when Penny returns with the requested drinks. You had no real intentions of going and hanging out with Hangman and the others, but before you can excuse yourself, your empty beer is smoothly plucked from your hands, replaced quickly with a brand new one.

“Help me carry these back?” Hangman asks then, jerking his head in the vague direction of the pool table. You frown when he immediately takes off walking, not actually letting you help him at all, all four beers still slotted between his fingers. You find yourself following him anyway, as if he’d placed some kind of spell over you.

Hangman stops ahead of you at the ancient jukebox, looking back over his shoulder at you, nodding in a pleased manner when he sees you trailing behind. He waits for you, gaze never leaving your form, even as he nods to the space next to him. You awkwardly step up to the spot opposite to him, and look past the glass and at the selection inside. Hangman, once more, takes up a lean, this time against the rickety machine.

“Would you be so kind as to select track number…” he trails off as he checks the list of songs, but quickly flicks his gaze back to you, and smiles bright, tauntingly, again. “Eighty-Six?” he asks, but it's barely a question. You nod, and swallow, shifting from holding your beer with two hands to holding it with just one. You carefully tap the chunky ‘eight’ and ‘six’ keys as he watches. The machine’s little analogue screen confirms that your song is next up, and nervously, you look back up at Hangman, horrified to find he’s just been staring at your face for the past however long.

“S’been a while, Mirage.” He drawls, making you blink rapidly and look away.

“Has it?” Is all you can manage meekly in reply, surprised when he lets out a genuine sounding laugh. He hums warmly, and you practically feel it in your chest.

“And yet,” he lifts hand, two beers held expertly between his fingers, but he extends it to tap your nose, almost making you almost flinch.

“You haven’t changed at all.” Hangman grins Cheshire-like down at you, before his eyes narrow ever so slightly, and he leans in even closer while flicking his eyes up and down your form again.

“I don’t bite you know,” he tells you, his voice sounding serious, but his somberness lasts mere seconds.

“Well, not unless you ask me to first, sweetheart,” he winks and his smile grows large as your eyes grow wide and you splutter, flustered.

Your face grows hot with slight embarrassment, a wave of inner resentment at his teasing washing through you.

Hangman laughs, seemingly bored with you now, and he turns to walk back toward the pool tables. Without even looking, he beckons you to follow with one finger on his still occupied hands. For a moment your pique prevents you from doing so, certain that if you were to dip into the crowd now, he’d not care enough to seek you out again, let alone notice you were missing.

You know he didn’t mean it, you know his flirting is just to get a rise, but you also know that he’d never do it to Phoenix, or Halo, and a little bit of you hates yourself for being such a marked pushover. You make the decision now that you won’t let him do it again, if you can help it.

Your eyes travel past Hangman then, towards the pool tables where you can now see another figure has joined the other gathered aviators, and for the first time all evening, you don’t feel nervous to go join them.

You follow after Hangman, but quickly diverge from his path, cutting around a gathered group of Navy personnel to get there faster. As you approach, you take a moment to shake off any lingering anxiety, before gently laying a hand on the faded Hawaiian shirt in front of you, doing your best to keep yourself from bouncing on your heels.

Rooster half looks ready to wave off whoever is trying to get his attention, but when his shaded eyes land on you, he spins his whole body to face you, grinning widely in unguarded excitement as he gathers you up in his arms.

“Miri!” he exclaims warmly, and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of you when he briefly lifts you off the ground.

“I was just about to ask Phoenix if she’d seen you yet.” Rooster informs you. 

“Seen who?” Phoenix steps around him, frowning as she quickly glances you over, though it disappears quickly.

“Yeah, that about tracks…” Rooster mutters mostly to himself.

“Nat, this is Mirage, you know her right?” Rooster introduces the two of you, and while neither of you make to shake hands, you only feel friendly energy radiate off the other woman, even as she openly looks you over now, nodding at Rooster’s words.

“Right, I have heard about you… I guess there's no real mystery behind your callsign… I didn’t even realise you were here… Sorry,” she tells you bluntly, but you appreciate her straightforwardness.

“They said ‘Wallflower’ was too long.” You joke lightly, and the other woman smiles. A moment passes between you, and you get the distinct feeling that Phoenix has become determined to never let you go unnoticed in her presence again.

You aren’t sure just yet if you appreciate that, but you are sure that you’ve just made a friend.

“Mirage?” Another voice joins then and you look to your left, smiling again when you see another familiar face.

“Bob!” you move to embrace him too, not seeing the look shared between Phoenix and Payback who watch you in surprise.

“Huh. Figures.”

-

Neither you or Hangman have moved since Rooster and Mav went down. The rest of Dagger had returned an hour ago, mission complete. There was no reason for either of you to be on standby.

And yet.

When the call came through that Dagger Two had been hit, both you and Hangman had separately requested to be launched, to help, but you’d been denied.

As a rule, you made yourself easy to work with, even if those around you were less compliant, and you’d experienced plenty of that, flying alongside Hangman the past few weeks. Whether it was him leaving you to get shot down in training, or refusing to fly as a team during simulations. And yet, despite his habit of ‘hanging you out to dry’ being the reason behind his callsign, deep down, you’ve never once doubted flying alongside him in the real thing like the others seemed to.

You’re glad for that lack of hesitation now, glad that it only takes a single moment of eye contact from across the tarmac for the two of you to understand one another perfectly. Glad that when you got word that somehow, Rooster was supersonic again, you already know his answer before you even ask.

“Hangman? Hondo’s cleared us for take off with the ground crew, against orders. You with me?” you ask quietly, looking over at your wingman, knowing that when you return you’ll most certainly be court marshalled, but unable to sit and do nothing any longer.

“To hell and back, Mirage,” comes his immediate reply.

You see him move in sync with you, both of your canopy’s lowering at the same time.

You ignore the panicked voices ordering you to stand down, long enough for Hondo and the others to get you on the catapult, and by then it’s too late.

In two seconds you’re propelled from zero to over a hundred and sixty, and in your ears you hear Hangman right behind you.

-

“Do you want to get a coffee with me?” The question makes you jump, your drink almost sloshing everywhere. The sudden voice, as well as the person it belonged to, takes you completely by surprise, but you’re thankful he doesn’t draw attention to your startling.

Up until moments ago, you’d been peacefully watching the ocean toss and turn, burying your feet in the damp sand and thinking about what you were going to do with your upcoming two weeks of post-mission leave.

Most of Dagger were a little further up the shore, a bonfire crackling away, although you weren’t the only one to have splintered off. Mav and Rooster were currently standing in the shallows talking, and you think Halo and Phoenix have moved to sit apart from the others as well. You had managed to sneak away easily enough, content to just sit on your own for a while, though your efforts appear to have been mostly in vain, if the man now plopped in the sand beside you is any indicator.

You blink at each other.

“What?!” you blurt out dumbly, not completely certain you really understood what he’d said. Hangman’s lips press into a thin line, and he looks away from you, linking his hands together around his knees, and staring out at the rolling waves.

“Coffee. Would you like to get one with me?” He repeats, sounding only a smidge impatient, but it still doesn't clear up much for you.

“I… No, I heard you the first time… I… I just don’t understand… why?”

Over the past three weeks you’ve been forced more out of your shell than you ever have before. It was torture. It was wonderful.

Part of you pats yourself on the back for being able to ask him so starightly, but another part of you slaps yourself in the face for questioning him.

Hangman turns to look at you apprehensively.

“Are you asking why coffee or why am I asking you?” He speaks slowly and carefully, his face blank and devoid of any hint he was teasing, though you think he might be anyway.

“Why… Why are you asking me?” You push, shuffling your feet in the sand, drawing his attention for a moment. He looks back at your face and frowns slightly, cocking his head.

“Because I like you? And that is usually what somebody does when they like someone. Ask them.” He answers, and this time you definitely get the impression he’s politely trying not to laugh, but for once, you don’t feel like you’re on the outside of the joke.

Still, you find yourself taken somewhat aback at his confession, admitted so easily and freely, as if it shouldn’t come as a surprise to you, which confuses you.

“Like me? I didn’t even think you wanted me as a squadmate, let alone–” you stop speaking, but only because Hangman cuts his eyes sharply away from you to glare out at the ocean.

“Well, I do.” He says kind of indignantly, all things considered, and eyes you almost sourly. “You can just say no if you don’t–”

“–No, I do!” you quickly cut him off, because at the end of it all, you’re a little too much of a hopeless romantic to let this moment pass you by. Especially when for the past three weeks you haven't been able to get rid of the odd heart skips you got whenever Hangman acknowledged your presence at all.

And besides, you weren’t blind.

Hangman was ridiculously pretty, and not anywhere near as much of an asshole as he wanted people to believe.

He looks at you blankly for a moment, processing your words, before his face breaks out in a smile. It isn’t one of his usual smirks or tauntingly pearly grins, though. It’s softer, sweeter, and you stare mesmerised as he looks away from you again quickly, and down at his linked hands, nodding.

Two days pass, and even when you’re sitting across from him in a small, niche little coffee shop you had no idea existed, you feel like you’re in a dream.

You’ve never seen Hangman out of uniform, you realise, and it’s a whole new experience you’re forced quickly to process when he stands to go get your drinks.

Dark jeans, white shirt, casual jacket. It’s a simple outfit, but goddamn does he make it look good. Nervously you have to wonder if your white and blue sundress, sneakers and bomber jacket were having the same effect on him, though you highly doubt it.

He returns quickly, attentively, placing both your coffees down, before folding himself into his chair once more. You both look at each other awkwardly before you distract yourself by taking a sip of your coffee. Hangman seems to do the same, but instead of drinking, he begins tearing into several little sugar packets, and emptying them into his coffee foam.

You huff out a tiny laugh before you can stop yourself, and his eyes quickly snap to you.

“What?” he asks defensively, but the corners of his mouth twitch.

“I just… I guess I never figured you for a sweet coffee kinda guy…”

“Oh, and why is that?” his twitching lips turn into a full smirk, but it isn’t his usual Hangman smirk. You chew on the inside of your lip, and sip your coffee once more before answering.

“I’m not sure. I guess you just don’t seem like the type of guy who…” you trail off, unsure of what exactly you’re trying to say and even more; how to say it.

“Listen, I may have rippling, glistening abdominals, but I have a sweet tooth,” he says, putting on the defensiveness now, leaning toward you and pointing at himself. You pinch your brows together and purse your lips, nodding vehemently.

“I know how to have fun,” he tells you, tipping a third sugar into his coffee.

“Of that I don’t really doubt, Hangman,” you say, but his gaze snaps back to you again, almost sharply this time.

“Jake.” he corrects you.

You pause.

Of course, you knew his first name, but you’re fairly certain you’ve never once used it. Hangman has just always been, well, Hangman. But you weren’t in a cockpit right now, he’d asked you out, this wasn’t the time and place for callsigns. He wasn’t Hangman, and you weren’t Mirage.

“Jake,” you say slowly, carefully, as if he’ll tell you any moment he’s just kidding around. But he doesn’t.

“Miri,” he replies, slow like you, but softer, and it’s silly, but it sounds so nice coming from him. You shake your head and swallow.

“Jake, if you don’t like coffee, why did you ask me out for one?” you ask him, watching as he blinks slowly at you, before his gaze slowly drops to the latte in front of him.

“If I asked you for a drink, you might’ve got the wrong idea,” he starts, speaking carefully. “If I asked you for dinner, it could be too formal, too awkward–”

“–It’s already awkward,” you point out, making him grimace slightly, so you shrug.

“Coffee just seemed like– I just wanted to–” he cuts himself off and drops both hands to the table.

“Look– I just didn’t want there to be any misunderstanding about what this was. I like you. I know you like coffee.” Jake admits all in a flurry, his voice quiet, and his eyes flickering around as he speaks.

For as long as you’ve known him, you’ve never seen Jake unable to maintain eye contact, actually it seemed to be something he took immense pride in, and it always made you slightly uncomfortable, but right now he appears completely incapable, and it's not a side of Hangman you’ve ever seen before. You realise you might be meeting Jake properly for the first time.

You decide to let him off easy, with all the newfound courage Dagger had been feeding into you the past few weeks, and you change the subject.

“You know, when you came up to me at the Hard Deck that first night, I was kinda surprised you remembered me at all,” you say slowly, sipping your coffee and eying him evenly. Jake frowns then, but it smooths out into a cool grin, and he leans back in his chair, cocking his head.

“Are you kidding? I’m always clocking possible threats.” he tells you, making you cough lightly.

“How am I a threat to you?!” you ask in disbelief.

“Oh, I could name a few,” Jake teases, nodding at you, but flicking his eyes away, almost making a show of clocking an incoming group of customers behind you.

You weren’t clueless, you knew you were a part of Dagger for a reason. You were damn good at your job, but still, Jake was Hangman, not only was he an aviator you respected, he was an aviator with very high personal standards, and for him to see you as comparable to him… well truthfully, you find yourself rather humbled.

And then flustered, at his clear unabashed flirting.

“I always thought you flirting was just you messing with me,” you admit, and he grins wider.

“Can’t it be both?” he asks, leaning forward again, and clasping his hands together. He seems to have no problem maintaining eye contact now, you note. When you cold-stare him, he simply shrugs.

“You’re cute when you get all flustered and nervous, what can I say?”

“Literally anything else.” You grumble back.

You finish your coffee and push the cup to the side, crossing your arms on the table and leaning forward like he was. Jake mimics you, pushing his own coffee away, clearly with no intention to start, let alone finish it. You aren’t as good as him with eye contact though, no matter how much you’d come out of your shell, so you take the opportunity to glance sideways out the window, only for your gaze to catch on something.

Your heart thumps loudly for a moment in your ears, and you wonder briefly if you should act on the thoughts popping around your brain right now, or if you should just stay put.

You lean forward even more, and flick your eyes back to Jake who is staring at you curiously.

“Hey, I have an idea…” you start, chewing on the inside of your lip, before standing up. You only hesitate a little before offering your hand.

“You with me?” you ask without thinking, the words the same as the ones you ask time and again to your wingmen while in flight manoeuvres. Jake stares up at you for a moment, before he too stands, your heart skipping when he takes your hand. With a tiny squeeze you almost don’t notice, Jake grins, and nods.

-

“Oh, hey! Stop! That’s not fair!” You elbow Jake in the side, but it’s already too late. The hand he’d shot out to block your light gun had done its job, and where you’d previously been neck in neck for score on the dual Time Crisis cabinet, Jake’s character was now cheering in victory, while your screen was asking you to insert more coins and try again.

Jake chortles and you both slot your plastic guns back into their plastic holsters at the front of the machine.

“We never agreed to no interference,” he says proudly, and you sock him in the arm only half as hard as you can.

“I didn’t think it needed to be said!” you exclaim pointedly. Jake grins down at you, and collects his tickets.

“Quit complaining, all these are gonna go towards whatever stuffed bear or whatever the hell you want anyway.” He rolls his eyes, and gestures to the shoddy ‘rewards’ counter of the arcade you’d spotted from the coffee shop.

“I want the Minion.” You state firmly after glancing at the redemption counter for three seconds, and spotting the big ugly yellow creature on the top shelf. Jake sighs in a put-upon manner and shakes his head.

“See, this is how you know I really like you. I’m willing to ignore that,” he says, and you actually think he might be serious this time. You grin up at him as he takes your elbow, and begins leading you toward the back of the room.

“What are you going to cheat me out of kicking your ass at this time?” you glance around you, goosebumps trailing up and down your arm as Jake lets his hand slide from around your elbow, down your forearm and into your hand, which he squeezes as if in warning.

“I didn’t cheat, I simply used black ops tactics,” he says, narrowing his eyes at you. You purse your lips at him and narrow your own eyes back.

“Cheat.” you say again, pronouncing each syllable deliberately.

You come to a stop then, and you look up at the old photo booth machine. Jake pulls out a fistfull of tickets, squinting his eyes at the label with instructions, before looking back over at the redemption counter. He seems to run some numbers before he looks back down at you with a grin, and waves the strings of crumpled tickets.

“My cheating means we can use the booth, and still have enough for a Kevin plush, so I don’t wanna hear no more complaining outta you,” he waggles a finger in front of your nose, and you blink up at him sheepishly.

“Jake– I don’t really want the Minion…” you say, before your voice turns suspicious. “Anyway, how do you know which one is Kevin?!” you lift an eyebrow, only for Jake to roll his eyes and push you into the curtained booth.

You orient yourself in the tiny enclosed space, looking around you as Jake takes a moment to feed several lines of win-tickets into the machine before he follows you. He’s forced to duck down real low, making the space even smaller, and you both stare for a moment at the small seat barely big enough for one person, let alone two.

“Well, either you can sit on my lap, or I can sit on yours, darlin’, but I know which one I’d prefer.” Jake intones lowly, and for the first time in an hour or so, you feel yourself get all flustered again. Honestly, you’d kind of forgotten about the explicitly romantic tone of this meeting until now, and more than that, your stomach begins to flip and flop like the first time you’d gotten in a jet when he eases past you and drops himself onto the bench before patting his thighs.

“Jake, maybe if you just move over a litt–”

“No can do, honey,” and he’s not even trying to tease you, he demonstrates the spread of his legs, and the tight fit into the booth, before looking back up at you expectantly again.

“Okay… Okay…” you say more for your own sanity than anything else, and turn, quickly perching yourself on his leg before you can really think too hard about what you're doing.

Your efforts are for naught though, because the moment you’re sat down, Jake’s hands are tugging you against him further, sitting you more comfortably on the thick expanse of his thigh, and you barely repress the noise that nearly escapes you at the feeling of his fingers digging into your hips.

“There we go, sweetheart,” he says softly, almost to himself, and moves his hands to wrap around you completely. If he notices your little noise, which by his self satisfied smirk he definitely has, he thankfully chooses not to say anything. Your face grows warm, not only at the hold he has on you but at the pet name too.

“Did you just call me ‘sweetheart’?” you ask, sounding half bewildered, half incredulous, forgetting for a moment where exactly you were and why. As you look over your shoulder at the man behind you, Jake stares back, his smirk still in place even as his eyes seem to search your face, his own expression mostly unreadable.

“Would you prefer ‘honey’?” he almost purrs, his voice distinctly amused, but you notice that he doesn’t back down, doesn’t apologise or step back.

It makes your stomach twist up in knots. It makes your heartbeat skip like a record.

You turn away from him, shake your head.

“It’s fine,” you tell him bashfully, wanting to grumble slightly when against your back you sense what you think is him puffing his chest a little. Quickly, you add: “Not at work, though…”

Jake chortles, but as you peek over your shoulder to look at him again, he’s relenting, his smirk gone and replaced with a far softer smile as he nods.

“Not at work, though.” he repeats lowly in confirmation, almost making you jump when he shifts one hand to steady you around the waist, his other reaching out to begin fiddling with the controls on the lit up screen in front of you.

“Alright, let's get this show on the road shall we?”

By the time you’re exiting the tiny cubicle, Jake’s hands still attached to your hips as he follows you out, you’re both laughing quietly to yourselves. You’re amazed to find just how much Jake can affect you, either setting you at complete ease or sending you into a tizzy, depending on what he’s said or done. Usually you wouldn’t be surprised by other people’s effects on you, you were jumpy and anxious by nature, but it was rare that somebody who put you on edge as much as Jake did, could also give you such comfort.

When he detaches his hands from your sides at last to survey the sheets of photos spat out by the booth, you marvel at how much you start to miss the contact. With all the subtlety you can muster, you inch closer to him, under the guise of getting a look at the photos as well, though really, you’re only hoping that you might prompt him into reaching out for you again.

Jake chortles and points at a set of two pictures. In one, you’re both grinning madly, pulling silly faces, and in the other, you’re wearing softer smiles, and you notice now, that Jake had pushed his face a little closer to yours. It makes heat rise in your cheeks, not just at the seeming intimacy of the photo, but truthfully, of how much you like seeing the two of you like that.

“You won’t mind if I keep these, will ya?” Jake asks, looking over at you. You simply shake your head, and he grins a little wider, carefully tearing off the two pictures before pulling out his wallet and tucking them inside, for sake keeping, you assume.

Jake lets you keep the rest, and absently, you fold them into the zipper in your purse, too distracted by the fact that he does indeed take your hand again, before quickly releasing it to instead wrap his arm over your shoulder. You can’t stop yourself from smiling a little as you blink dumbly up at him, and he grins down at you, ducking his face even closer to yours.

“Now sweetheart, I believe I was instructed to win you a minion plush.”

-

You try to avoid Phoenix’s hard stare, and focus on wiping down your helmet.

“You’re acting weird,” she finally announces, still managing to make you jump despite your anticipation. You then immediately proceed to do yourself exactly zero favours, proving her point by refusing to look up at her, choosing to instead hurriedly continue with your current task.

“What? No I’m not. I’m fine. You’re being weird,” you argue, wincing at your clearly abysmal attempts at behaving like a normal adult human. You start re-cleaning the pristine surface of your helmet, your nerves conjuring imperfections you logically know don’t exit.

Just before you completely lose yourself down the spiral of unhealthy compulsive behaviours, A hand, Nat’s hand, stops your own. Tugging the cloth out of your hands and taking your helmet away from you, she places it down on the workbench you stand on opposite sides of. Chewing your lip, you at last meet her eye.

“Miri, it’s okay to have a crush–”

“–I don’t have a crush!” You blurt out both far too quickly to be believable, as well as in sheer panic. Your face grows immediately hot, and you can tell Phoenix is trying not to laugh at the show you’re putting on so poorly. Her lips twitch, but her expression softens from amusement into something softer, mixed with traces of pity. Just when you’re starting to debate the pros and cons of sprinting out of the room, getting in your jet, and then flying away never to be seen again, she relents, releasing you from her eye contact and making herself busy as she tidies up bits and bobs littering the workbench.

You swallow thickly, and stay watching her, your heart rate only spiking higher as your anxiety builds once more at her sudden apparent indifference. You follow her movements without moving an inch, sharply aware that not only was she still very much focused solely on scrutinising you, but even more mortifyingly, that this conversation was far from being over.

“Nat,” you say with surprisingly more strudiness than you believed possible, pausing to swallow the dryness in your mouth. “I don’t have a crush, okay?” You wait for her to look back over at you, nothing but disbelief rolling off of her faux-casualty, giving you a bullshit shrug and a smile.

“Okay.” she says. You had hoped that would be enough, but you should have known better. You clear your throat again.

“Nat,” you say, only making yourself louder, as if that was a sign of nothing going on. She looks up at you somewhat blankly. You know you’re totally screwed already as her eyes dip to watch your finger begin quickly tapping on the bench before you with barely any acknowledgement from yourself. “There’s nothing weird going on,” you say, pleading with your voice and face and every atom of your being that she drops it.

She drops something, unfortunately it’s not the subject though, but you still feel some semblance of stress leaving your body as her fake lack of care dissolves, and she leans back to rest against the cabinet behind her. She crosses her arms and shrugs again while letting out a soft, pitying sigh, which this time doesn’t raise your non-existent heckles as much as it had when it first showed its face.

You stare at one another, at what you think is an impasse and wordless agreement to now never talk of this episode in your friendship ever again, but once again, you should have known better.

“If it’s any consolation, I think he has a crush on you too, so it's not like it’s a total waste of energy… despite all evidence to the contrary,” She says conversationally at first, before muttering out the last part under her breath.

“He doesn’t,” you state with so much certainty you almost forget for a moment that it’s not even a little bit true. Instead, crossing your arms too, you feel like a middle schooler having a much too serious fight with her friend at lunch. “We’ve just become closer, like all of the squad have. You’re just noticing it cause you want to!” you’re a little taken aback by the sound logic of your own reasoning, all points earned to your side then immediately becoming forfeit when you can’t help yourself from stupidly continuing to speak. “Why? Has he said something?!”

Your outburst of near-giddy excitement destroys all chances of you walking this back, and you find yourself with only one option left available. But your prior readiness to exit out of this failed interaction at roughly 300 kts/min becomes soberingly not so fun to fantasise about when you sheepishly remember the current charges against you, for the theft of the $70 million dollar military aircraft you’d technically stolen when you and Jake had taken a joy ride to pick up Mav and Rooster.

You're snapped back into the present as Natasha Trace regards you unreadably and slowly lifts one perfect eyebrow at you. You cover your face and hang your head, you reason with your now permanently mortified brain that if you just admitted to the thing she already believed to be true, she’d stop looking any closer, possibly finding out something actually secret.

It helps that your embarrassment for the flurry of extremely obvious questions is very real, and you groan into your palms. You hear before you see Phoenix laugh, listening to her chortle at your outing yourself, but you notice that he demeanour is warmer now, and she pushes herself up to sit on the top of the bench between you, crossing her legs.

“He’s not said a thing, but he doesn’t need to,” she tells you, seemingly glad to just be able to share her findings and observations, which you uncomfortably realise have been going on for a lot longer than you realised.

“It's what he’s not saying,” she explains, and you blink up at her in genuine curiosity.

“Huh?”

Phoenix turns her gaze upward as she thinks.

“He doesn’t make fun of you… or snipe at you, not really,” she begins, resting her head in her hand. “To be honest when we first met, I was expecting to defend you. You’re a good pilot, a great one, but Hangman isn’t exactly known for recognising that in others…”

You frown up at her, unsure of anything to say to abate her suspicions.

She’s not exactly wrong, even when the two of you were first stationed together, he’d never poked fun at you, never really called you out. To be fair, he hadn’t really acknowledged your presence at all, but these days you knew that was more to do with the fact that all this time, Hangman had liked you, had seen you were shy, and didn’t like crowds, and as you’d found out recently, often made more of a spectacle of himself to draw attention away from you.

You have to stop yourself from smiling dreamily at the thought of him.

“And I mean, he disobeyed direct orders for you, he knew what you were doing, and he went with you anyway… I’m just saying Miri, I don’t think you’d be disappointed if you were to say something–”

You quickly cut her off.

“I’m not saying anything to him!”

At last, given your already clear admittance of your supposed ‘crush’, Phoenix relents, holding up her hands and shrugging.

“Just think about it alright? It’s even sort of… cute, in a weird, Hangman-y way.”

You grumble at her, but thankfully she doesn’t bring it up again for the rest of the afternoon. Still, you leave the workshop with a sparkling helmet, cleaner than you think it ever has been, and with a pressing matter to relay to your boyfriend, most of which involves playing it much, much cooler in front of Phoenix the next time you all hang out.

-

You know you’ve made some personal growth when you answer the door in your matching Star Wars X-Wing PJ’s and slippers, and aren’t immediately mortified.

Jake stands there, already grinning back at you, and looking like a greek god sent to earth in his dark jeans and plain white shirt.

“Red Leader Mirage, your rescuer has arrived!” he announces, doing what you judge to be a surprising spot-on impression of Lt. Porkins from Star Wars, shooting a lazily salute down at slippers

Unfortunately, you aren’t given the chance to ask him more about his perfect Red Six however, as he’s almost immediately pushing away from where he’d been leaning against the side of your door, posing for your perusal you assume, and holds out a brown paper bag for you to take. You swipe it, and shoot him a thankful smile.

“Thank you, Jake, really…” you side-step his self-congratulatory jokes, but he doesn’t seem phased, simply shrugging, and taking a step closer to you, letting one hand rest gently on your shoulder, before he hooks it and tugs you into him.

You’d started getting all-too familiar with just how physically attentive Jake seemed to be, something you would never have guessed about him several weeks ago, but had come to terms with now. Clingy was never a word you would have used to describe him before. He hugs you briefly, then pulls back to look down at you, his brow furrowed and his expression filled with genuine concern, another thing you’d been getting more familiar with.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks, inviting himself in by walking you backwards and kicking your door closed lightly behind him. You’d come not to mind this sort of thing either, but mostly because you know if you asked him to leave again, he would, no questions asked. That was another new thing you’d been learning about Jake Seresin.

In comparison to how Hangman could be up in the sky, Jake was entirely understanding, one hundred percent supportive, and almost a little too observant when it came to your particular anxieties. It meant he often knew without you saying when to push you, and when to not, and on the occasion that you did need to say, he always respected those boundaries.

It was starting to make you nervous, how much you were growing to like him.

“Cramps are kicking my ass, but other than that, mostly fine. Thank you for these,” you try again, hoping that he really understands just how much you appreciate him coming over for you tonight. Never in your life would you have imagined feeling comfortable enough to ask Hangman to stop by the pharmacy and pick you up sanitary products, and never would you have imagined he’d make no issue of it.

“Sure,” he says, again with a shrug. “You want me to head out?” he asks then, tipping his head back at your door, even as he inches his face closer to yours, brushing his nose tip against yours. Your lips quirk, then break out into a full smile when he grins before dipping low enough to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your stomach somersaults and pulls at least ten G’s for sure as he continues to brush his lips against yours teasingly.

This hadn’t taken much getting used to at all. Jake was a good kisser, and had proved it after your second date, almost in the exact place you were now, both his hands cupping your cheeks and his lips full on yours, hungry and insistent. That had been almost four weeks ago now, but after his hands had tugged your hips flush to his, you’d quickly put the breaks on.

You were still slightly uncertain about going further with Jake so soon. The fact was, you worked together in a high impact, high stress job, and if anything should happen between you, it would be easier to keep things professional if you took it slow

Jake had, to your slight surprise, though you aren't sure exactly what you were expecting, nodded slowly and taken a step back. He’d told you that the only thing he wanted more than you, was for you to want him too. You’d had to explain that your position wasn’t because you didn’t want him, which had led to more making out, but he hadn’t pushed to go further and he’d left that night with the affirmation that however long you wanted to wait was alright by him.

“No, you can stay,” you tell him, wrapping your arms around his neck to stop him from pulling away too much as you try not to full-on pout. Jake smiles against your lips and presses into you further, moving to push you against the wall, where he crowds your space entirely and stops teasing you, capturing your lips with his at last.

You’re about to experimentally slide your hand up his shirt, a thought that had been lingering in your mind more and more these past few days, but your kiss is over too soon, and he pulls back, leaving you breathless.

“Weren’t you waiting for me, so you could do chores?” he prompts, nearly making you grumble. Instead you nod, and gently push back against him, heading towards your bedroom just down the main hall.

“You can wait in here if you like,” you suggest, feeling a little nervous about the idea, but it was something you’d been thinking about for a while now. Even if you and Jake weren’t sleeping together, that didn’t mean the two of you couldn’t sleep together, did it? It was something you’d wanted, specifically with him, but not really something you’d ever experienced before. You were ready to move out of these early stages of your relationship, eager to push yourself and your limits just a little, so you could settle into something more comfortable with Jake, something where you weren’t always a little surprised when he touched you, or called you by one of his innumerable pet names.

Jake shoves his hands in his pockets and nods, clearly thinking through what this invitation could mean as he follows you quietly.

“Um, I feel like I should say ‘excuse the mess’, but you know–” you cut yourself off and gesture around your bedroom when you both have entered. Jake snorts.

“Well that’s what being in the Navy gets you. I won’t judge if you say it anyway,” he tells you lightly, and you scoff.

“Yes you will!” you insist, and are met with a confident, familiar cheshire-grin.

“Mhm, but only a little. Have you changed your mind, honey?” he steps toward you again then, almost closing the distance in one stride, his hands still shoved in his pockets, but his gaze locked intently on you in a way you haven’t felt since that second date. Your heart beats so loudly you’re sure he must be able to hear, but he doesn’t mention it, just waits for you, crowding your space again.

“Oh, I– No… not… I didn’t… I’m sorry…”

The moment you speak Jake is stepping back, pulling his hands from his pockets to hold them up, his expression losing the intensity again.

“No need to apologise, my mistake.” Jake’s words are sincere, but he looks away from you.

You let out a little sigh.

“It’s just so soon, and with the trial–”

“–You don’t have to explain yourself, honey,” Jake pulls his hands from his pockets at last and places them at your waist, drawing you in. You fall quiet as he lowers his face to yours, though he teases you again by not kissing you, simply looking you over, and then smirking when you pout. “You want it when you want it, and that’s when I want it, okay?”

He makes you nod, before he at last lowers his lips to meet yours and kisses you, slow and sweet. You finally get the chance to test the waters a little, easing your hand carefully underneath the back of his shirt, making you giggle against his mouth when he jumps slightly at the feel of your skin on his. Jake doesn’t say or do anything about it though, thankfully just letting you explore a little as he tips your head back further to deepen your kiss, and you brush your fingers up his spine.

After a short while of this, he must feel the urge to tease you again, because with little to no hesitation at all, unlike you, he slips his hands beneath your shirt, his warm palms gripping onto the bare skin just above your PJ shorts, almost making you moan. You’re glad you’re able to hold back the sound, mostly, but your own surprise doesn’t go unnoticed by the blond currently kissing you.

He only continues doing so for a short minute longer, before he’s eventually pulling back, lips pink and kiss swollen. You can’t help but frown at the parting. He squeezes your waist, and nudges your nose with his own.

“What do you want to do, honey?”

You groan at the apparent lack of making out in your future, not because you don’t think he’d agree, but mostly because you’re not quite ready to ask him for more, though a part of you senses he’s not willing to let you off the hook for those chores you’d told him about earlier.

“I need to fold this laundry,” you point past him, to your walk-in wardrobe and the basket that lies within. Jake looks over at it and lifts an eyebrow, which you choose to ignore. He nods then, and takes a step away from you, making you frown even more when his hands fall from your body.

“I’ll help,” he says, making your eyes widen, and you quickly step around him to block his path, where he is clearly about to make for your basket.

“No! Um… It’s okay, It’ll be easier if I just do it…” you trail off, wondering if you sound insane and neurotic, but Jake simply raises his hands again and nods.

“Well, what do you want me to do?” he prods, and you realise, he’s come inside thinking you want him to help with your chores.

“I was thinking… I was thinking it might just be nice for you to just… be here?” You cringe, and narrowly avoid making a face at yourself. Jake blinks at you as if he doesn’t understand.

“You want me to… sit around while you do laundry?” he asks, tone confused, but equally unimpressed. You nod. Jake shifts, then clicks his tongue. “I was not raised to let somebody work while I sit and watch, especially not my girl. My mother would tan my hide.”

You’re a little surprised by the seriousness on his face, despite the humorous inflection in his voice. You suck in a breath, mulling over how to explain to him what you had been thinking when he came inside. Jake’s eyes flicker over you for a moment before he shifts again, crossing his arms and lifting his chin at you.

“Alright sweetheart, just say what you gotta say, I can hear those cogs turning from here…”

“I… I like that you want to help me, I think that’s really sweet…”

“But…?” Jake prompts.

“I find this kinda thing hard, and I was hoping we could just try and do something… domestic…? Together?” your face goes hot at your admission, and when Jake doesn’t immediately respond you wonder if using the word ‘domestic’ was too much, too soon.

“What is ‘this kind of thing’? I get the other part honey,” again, his voice is playful, but you see the seriousness behind his eyes and it lends you even more comfort. How is he so good at this? It’s almost like he’d read your teenage diary entry all about your perfect guy… it's the sort of attention, care, and behaviour that you’ve never actually gotten from a guy you were seeing before, so you aren’t really sure how to compose yourself.

“This kind of thing,” you gesture between you and him, before clearing your throat. “I don't know what to call it– us, but–”

“–a relationship.” Jake cuts in firmly, and you pause, heart thumping. You hadn't actually had this discussion yet, but you guess you’re having it now.

“Right. I mean, I’ve been in relationships before, but they’ve never really worked out and I feel like I never get to the point with boyfriends where I feel fully comfortable, so I–” you clamp your mouth shut, both at the use of ‘boyfriend’, and at the fact you were rambling, and you’re pretty sure it's too early to start telling him about how all your prior relationships failed.

“Right. So, let me get this straight; you were going to come back in here and put your laundry away, regardless of me being here?” Jake holds up a hand as he repeats back the information.

“Yeah…”

“And you just want me to keep you company?”

You nod, and clear your throat.

“Yeah.”

Jake stares at you, a level of understanding crossing his face, before his eyes flick to your laundry behind you, then back to your face.

“... And you’re sure I can’t help you?” His resolve sounds weak, and you think he’s already made up his mind to do as you asked, but his upbringing requires him to triple check. You smile, and this time step toward him, gingerly resting your hand on his arm, which he immediately raises, and flips, sliding it so now you’re holding his hand.

Again, you can’t fathom how he got so good at this sort of thing. Your knees go wobbly.

“I have a bunch of lacy unmentionables in there, so…” you try to lighten things, but it's not a lie. Jake picks up what you’re putting down, and gives your hand a squeeze. He tips his chin at you and lifts an eyebrow.

“Now why’d you have to go and say that honey? You sure you’re certain I can’t help?” his hands slip from yours to rest at your hips again, completely bypassing your top this time and your heart stutters.

You bite your lip, and nod your head, trying not to laugh him off fully, because while that may be your instinctual nervous reaction, you didn’t want to discourage him entirely. You liked that Jake acted as if you were a pretty girl, like you were desirable, and not like the awkward dork you actually were. You didn't want him to stop doing that.

His expression turns a little softer, and he leans down, moving slowly as to give you time to process, and he presses his lips to your cheek, lingering for just a moment before he taps your sides with his fingers, then steps away.

You’re still catching your breath when he looks back at you, pointing at what looks like one corner of your bed.

“Can I?”

You nod, and gesture at the whole mattress.

“Make yourself comfortable!”

–

You can feel the pounding music of the club in your whole body. The lights flashing and dancing in different colourways in time with the music give everything around you an ever changing aura, and maybe it’s all the drinks you’ve had tonight, but in front of you, Natasha seems to glow.

Her hands grasp your forearm firmly and you giggle, uncharacteristically carefree as you almost slip again.

“Alright! Okay, let's get you seated!” she says. She’s had a few too, but not nearly as many as you, and you’re glad for it now as she steers you toward the bar and grabs a paper cup to fill with water from the nearby water station toward the end. You find yourself drinking it without prompting, but miss the taste of the fruity cocktails you’d been downing all night. “I’ll call us a cab,” she says, beginning to pull out her phone, but you hastily stop her, placing a hand on her arm and shaking your head rapidly, making the colours spin even more.

“No! My boyfriend said he’d pick us up!” you insist, ignoring the way her eyebrows shoot up, then stitch together.

“You boyfriend?” she asks, but you miss the real question behind her words, instead you simply nod, and begin to fumble around in your own purse until you find your phone. Nat watches you expectantly as you open your messages, quickly tapping ‘call' on the top icon, and pressing the phone to one ear, and your finger to the other.

It rings less than once before it connects.

“Heeyy!” you sigh in relief down the line, happy to even just hear his voice after all night going without. “Yeah, no, everything’s alright, you just said to call you when we were done!” you say in reply to his amused questioning. You look up at Nat briefly, and if you were more sober, you might’ve been able to tell that she was leaning in slightly to try and hear the voice on the other end, but you aren’t, so you don’t.

“Okay, I’ll meet you out front!” you tell him excitedly, before adding on; “Is it okay if we give Nat a ride home too?” there's a short reply, and at last you’re smiling wide and nodding, even though he can’t see you. “Okay, we’ll see you soooon!”

You hang up and stare back up at Natasha, who's giving you a funny look that you ignore. “He said he’ll be here in ten, he’s been at the sports bar in town waiting!” you tell her dreamily, like she might understand what it means to you that Jake would choose to remain only a short distance away in case you needed anything, in the knowledge that you didn’t always enjoy nights out like this.

Nat simply nods and after making you drink one more glass of water, you begin making your way through the crowds and out of the club.

The air outside is warm, but refreshing and you take in as much of it as you can, not realising how stuffy the air inside the club had been until now. It was getting late, and bars and restaurants around the club are lit up and busy, the streets all around full of people either on their way to their destination, or lingering as they talk.

It doesn’t take long for you to spot Jake’s car and he pulls up close to the curb, allowing you to beeline for the passengers side door, not realising that Natasha follows with more confusion and trepidation. Jake jumps out of the car to greet you, rounding it to quickly steady your wobbly walk with a hand on your hip, and with the other, he pulls open the car door and helps you inside, leaning in to help you buckle in, grinning even as he murmurs quietly.

“You had a good night, sweetheart?” he asks, clicking your seatbelt into place for you, making you giggle at him. You lean forward for a kiss, but he dodges you, somewhat more aware than you are of your present company, and instead rests his hand so he can squeeze your knee. Your good mood isn’t spoiled and you barely notice the dodged kiss, so you simply nod your assent to his question vehemently.

“I had a lot to drink!” you tell him, before bursting out into giggles again, the soft, sweet smile Jake gives you going unnoticed as he squeezes your leg again.

“Yes you did,” he says with clear, fond amusement, and at last moves back so he can shut your door.

Unlike you, on the other hand, Natasha may as well be sober as a judge, and she eyes Jake somewhat distrustfully as she steps closer, lifting her chin up at him as she talks.

“What’re you doing here?” she asks accusingly, making Jake cock his head at her, only half as annoyingly as he can. He gestures back at you in the front seat of his car.

“Miri called, sounded pretty hammered,” he tells her as if that explained it. Natasha narrows her eyes and crosses her arms.

“Yeah, but she said she was calling her boyfriend, what’re you doing here?” She dares him to reply with anything but the truth, however luckily for Jake, unlike most men caught in her crossfire, he’s able to brush her off with an infuriating grin.

“I guess she dialled the wrong number, do you want a lift home or not?”

At his ultimatum (however hollow it really is, he wouldn’t leave her on her own in the middle of the night), Natasha frowns darker at him, but accepts the door he opens, waiting for her to get settled before he closes it behind her and returns to the driver's side.

When Jake checks his rearview he notes in amusement that Nat has situated herself in the middle seat, giving herself a perfect view of the two of you in the front. You don’t, nor do you seem to have any weariness in the bloodhound you’ve just set upon the both of you, but if he’s honest, Jake had known from day one that the second Natasha Trace suspected anything, your little secret was over.

He drives back as normally as he can, but it's strange to him now to have you sitting right there in his passenger's seat, and not have his hand in yours, or on your thigh. It’s strange to him to be in this space where the two of you are usually so open with your affection, and have to suppress it. Jake does not like it.

The car ride home is quiet, you seem content to look out the window, the tiredness hitting you now, but every so often he and Nat make small talk about whatever football scores interested them in the past week or two, and before too long, he’s pulling up outside her home.

Looking over at you to find that you’re slumped over asleep on his window, Jake follows Natasha out of the car with a simple offer of making sure she gets in alright. The congeniality doesn’t last very long, and once they’re standing on her porch she turns to him with a frown.

“You don’t really think I’m that stupid, do you?” she asks, for once not sounding angry or scolding, but seemingly subdued, maybe even a little upset. Jake sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Looking back to his car to make sure you’re still alright, he levels his squadmate with a serious expression.

“No, I do not,” he tells her sincerely. “But it’s Miri’s choice to not want to be public yet, all I’m asking is that you respect that,” he goes on after a moment. He doesn’t really believe she would say anything, but he feels the need to get her agreement, if only for your peace of mind in the morning.

Nat hums to herself and briefly looks away to fish out her keys. Once she has them in hand, she looks up at him again, a little grin on her face this time.

“How long?” she asks. Jake rolls his eyes and can’t resist the urge to mess with her just a little.

“Few years,” he states matter of factly, waiting for her eyes to pop wide before he lets out a victorious laugh and shakes his head. “A month or two,” he admits truthfully, accepting the hard sock in the arm as Nat scoffs at him and moves to unlock her front door.

“Something, something, I’ll kick your ass if you hurt her,” she grumbles as she steps inside, immediately kicking off her shoes. Jake straightens up and gives her a mock salute.

“Yes Ma’am,” he says, chortling to himself as he receives a middle finger for his efforts and the door is closed and locked again.

Jake feels a little lighter on his walk back to his car, and when he climbs in, he leans over to carefully adjust your crooked neck and make sure your belt is still strapped properly. You wake a little, confused at first, and blink up at him in happy wonderment.

“Hey!” you mumble, like it's the first time you’ve seen him tonight. Jake chuckles and leans closer to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Let’s get you home baby.”

–

You awake the next morning with nowhere near the headache you’re expecting, but with an array of distinct memories that cause a pit to open up in your stomach. The pit then begins to growl as you register the warm, homey smell of food, and with little effort, you force yourself up and into the kitchen, where you immediately attach yourself to Jake’s bare back.

His skin is warm and feels so comfy against your cheek, and the soft little laugh he gives makes your belly flop around. He lets you stay like that for a few moments more, moving slowly but smoothly so you can move with him, and at last when whatever he’s doing with his hands is finished, he reaches around for you and rests his hands where he can.

“Did I really call you last night? While with Nat?” you squeeze your eyes shut, hoping you’d just imagined it all, but another soft chuckle lets you know you hadn’t.

“Never thought you’d be the one to let our little secret slip first. I underestimated you baby.”

You groan into his back, and try to hide your face, but before you can complain or dodge him, Jake has turned himself around, letting you instead smoosh your face in between his gloriously golden pecs, and you think things may not be so bad.

He wraps his arms around you properly, and for a moment you just stay like that. You wonder if you can convince him to come around shirtless more often, the warmth radiating off his skin feeling heavenly, not to mention he looked almost as delicious as the food he’d made. You wonder if he’d already worked out this morning, or if you can join him after breakfast.

One of Jake’s hands moves away from your back and cups the back of your head tenderly, making you mewl slightly, and you look up at him to give the attention you know he’s asking for. Jake stares down at you with a soft little grin, and readjusts himself slightly, so he’s able to drop his lips to meet yours briefly.

One kiss becomes two kisses, becoming three kisses and after that any semblance of chastity is given up on and he kisses you full and sweet, deliberately slow like he’s teasing you to ask for more, but for now you’re simply content to wash away all of last nights worries like this.

Coming up for air, Jake barely breaks apart from you, his lips still brushing yours when he speaks.

“I asked Nat not to say anything, she respects you enough to do that I think,” he says, dropping a few more soft kisses to your mouth when you crane your neck up for more. He goes no further this time, though, and leans back from you to gauge your reaction after several moments, and you force yourself to open your eyes and pout.

“It’s not that I think she’ll tell anyone…” you say to him, scrunching up your features as you recall your lack of playing it cool the first time she had brought Jake up to you. The memory makes you grumble to yourself, and you once more attempt to hide your face in his chest. Jake laughs, and makes you jump when he pokes your side.

“What is it?” he asks, like he already knows. You tell him, voice muffled in his skin, but clear enough for the details of your embarrassing inability to throw the scent off to be heard. Jake’s body shakes with more laughter as you relay the information, but instead of trying to make you stop hiding away, he simply cups the back of your head again, and holds it nearer, allowing you to wither your embarrassment away in the safety of him.

“I think we both know that the minute that woman suspected anything, it was game over,” he tells you once you’re done, still holding you close, but you feel his lips press to the top of your head sweetly, and you do your best to snuggle yourself closer.

After the bulk of your mortification has eased away, Jake makes you detach from him, but only so the two of you can eat your breakfast while it’s still hot.

“You know I don’t want to keep it quiet, like, forever, right?” you ask out of nowhere, your memories of last night replaying over in your head while you ate. Jake looks up at you and cocks his head.

“I’m happy to do whatever you’d like to do, for as long as you’d like to do it,” he says matter of factly, but despite the sweetness of his words, you can’t help but frown at him.

“No you’re not, and we both know it,” you push back, grateful for his always tender manner of going at your pace, but you’d likely never have been with him in the first place if he hadn’t thrown you out of your comfort zone that first time.

The only difference is, now you are with Jake, and you understood these things about yourself, and how they weren’t always as scary as your mind might make them seem. Jake frowns back at you, clearly ready to protest.

“I know you pretty well too, you know,” you cut him off. “I know you like PDA, and that you wish you were able to be more open when we’re out with people. I know you like to show off, and part of that includes me,” you tell him adamantly, because you know you’re right.

Jake huffs out a sigh and leans back in his chair, looking at you dead on, you know him well enough to know he’s a little annoyed at you calling him out, but you aren’t doing it to annoy him or just for the sake of starting an argument.

“Okay, so what if I do? That doesn’t change the fact that until you want something, I’m not gonna go for it,” he says, still frowning at you like he doesn’t understand what the point of talking this through is even about.

You change tack and, with your heart beat thumping a little wildly, get up from your seat and move toward him. Even in his annoyance, Jake makes room for you, pushes out his chair and wraps his arms around your waist when you seat yourself on his thigh, your own arms linking around his neck.

“Well maybe I’m giving you permission to go for it,” you say softly, quietly, because the idea still does make you incredibly nervous. But you like Jake, no scratch that, you think you’re in love with Jake, and you think he’s in love with you too, and something about that feeling for once in your life makes you want the same things he does too, including the PDA. You want him to sling his arm around your neck, you want to be able to kiss his cheek or hold his hand or whatever it is you two want to do, not just in the comfort of your own homes, but out at the Hard Deck with your friends, too.

Jake blinks up at you, like at first your words don’t even register, but then he’s tightening his hold around your waist, and grinning wolfishly up at you, all cocky and infuriating if you didn’t find it utterly charming. If you didn’t completely adore him, even this part.

“Permission granted, Lieutenant?” he asks mischievously, and you can’t stop yourself from giggling, like you’re drunk all over again.

“Permission granted, Lieutenant!”

[comfortless]

All That You Don’t Want

PAIRING: witch!fem!reader x apprentice!König

CONTENT: 18+! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. oneshot. obvious au— so not canon-compliant!, questionable morality, mutual pining, animal death (it’s still alive! but not!), minor character death, power imbalance? technically teacher/student, forced proximity, smut; unprotected piv, creampie, cunnilingus, cockwarming.

NOTES: title from this song! (i will never stop titling my König fics after The Twilight Sad lyrics sorry) i have never written smut in my life i apologize if this is rough!! cover: Robert Bresson, 1951 wc: 7.7k

You never wanted an apprentice, never had the need for some bright-eyed whelp shadowing you for their own benefit. The kingdom had enough competition as far as your craft went— green magic, potion brewing and enchantments, why in the world would you risk teaching someone your secrets only for them to outdo you at every turn? Those with the propensity for magic weren’t treated human, anyway. You saw the looks, uneasy and disgusted, unless of course they had need of you.

The Guild keeps your protected, scrawl your praises in every fresh sheet of parchment passed about, brings in new clients for you to keep yourself afloat without you ever having to leave your little cottage in the forest just beyond the towering walls of the kingdom. So, when you receive the damned letter, how can you refuse?

Green magic couldn’t protect you from the King’s headsman, nor could it keep you hidden away from the constant threat of bandits and other malevolent forces, but the lines in the small letter detailing your new apprentice’s abilities are enough to make you swallow back some of that displeasure.

“… proficient in offensive magics…” and “… formerly in service to the King as a worthy candidate for knighting…” even “… a skilled huntsman…” all tell you that whoever this enigmatic pup is, he would have no qualms hissing at and chasing off a few rogues if they dared step too close to your territory. You picture some ruggedly handsome and charming gentleman arriving at your door with a sword of the finest steel hanging from his side and you loathe the way that your heart seems to flutter with excitement at the prospect.

A fortnight after the letter arrived at your doorstep, you realize that fantasy is often far sweeter than the reality.

You’re busying yourself sorting out a towering shelf with haphazardly placed vials, some labeled and others… well, if you had to guess based on the color of the fluid inside, you should probably toss lest you accidentally poison the next poor woman that comes by simply wanting something to charm the cute farmhand while her piece of shit husband, far too old for her, is off on another brothel visit. You may not be equipped to defend yourself in battle, but you know very well how to make nightshade and wolf’s bane taste like milk and honey.

It’s when you turn with your arms burdened by a heap of unlabeled, possibly poisonous concoctions that you see a figure just outside your window— tall, face shrouded with a blackened veil with only two holes cut out for his moonstone eyes. You curse the way the sight makes you nearly jump out of your skin, dropping everything you were holding onto the wooden floor, brightly colored fluid and glass shards staining a nearby rug you had spent an entire month painstakingly hooking yourself. The specter just tilts his head at you before inviting himself inside. Why bother pretending to be civilized when you look like that, anyhow?

You crouch to collect the shards of glass and wipe away the mixture of maybe-poisons as he enters, not sparing him a glance even as his footfalls lead him to stand uncomfortably close. Perhaps if the entire ordeal hadn’t pissed you off you would have the sense to be afraid, consider the fact that this titan of a man could have been a thief, but something tells you that this is the bright-eyed whelp you had anticipated. The man doesn’t even bother to greet you, let alone kick his muddy boots off at the door, he just hovers over you with his face tilted downward as you scrub up the mess you tell yourself he had caused.

“Leave it to The Guild to send me a dolt,” you mutter below your breath, barely audible as you move to deposit bits of broken glass into a wastebasket at the corner of the room.

“Ja?” The man huffs amusedly.

“Ja?” You question.

“Yes.”

You give him a look, one that suggests you’re in no mood for whatever this is and he seems to stiffen. Any mirth in those haunted eyes of his is quickly snuffed out, replaced with his gaze darting from perusing your backside to the corner of the room, then back up to your face.

He introduces himself as ‘König’. No surname, no title. Though, you supposed in his language, his name was a title in itself. Perhaps your disappointment is more notable than you realize, because the man seems almost nervous around you as you introduce yourself in turn. His fingers curl into his palms in repetition at his sides, and it’s impossible to tell by the small glimpse of his face whether or not he wants to strangle you or bury himself instead.

You rise to your feet, feeling acutely defeated as you lead him around the home, showing him to each room before stopping at the door to his own and crossing your arms over your chest.

“You’ll stay here,” you say quietly, avoiding his eyes as he lowers himself to look at you, thanking you graciously as his hand lingers a bit too long on your shoulder. You gently reach to pry it off, only to feel him grip at your fingers running his thumb over each knuckle before finally drawing away.

You watch from the doorway as he inspects the room. A bed a size two small for a man such as himself sits in the middle, a desk cluttered with spare vials of ink and a few quills made of swan feather, and a towering bookshelf filled with books on simple magic that you haven’t bothered to touch since you were a girl. He seems pleased, despite how very little effort was made for him. As much as you wish otherwise, you almost feel the sting of guilt when you watch him seat himself on the small bed and his eyes light up as he looks to you.

It didn’t take much perception to see the world hadn’t treated this brute too kindly.

He hunts your dinner, bringing home several rabbits that he took his time to skin and prepare for cooking in the yard. Even more, he roasts them over a fire he stoked up for you in a display of gratitude. You watch him from the fogged window as he seats himself by the fluttering flames, watching the meat with a focus that speaks volumes about his own discipline.

“Have you lived on the land for long, König?,” you ask him when the two of you are seated at the table, wiping away the remnants of your meal from your lips with a small handkerchief.

He’s only rucked up his hood enough to eat, the scars lining his jaw run deep, the skin pasty there. He looked far too pale to even be a living thing at all, but his thin lips pull into a grin at your question. “You can tell?” He asks with a slight tilt of his head, the tone of his voice suggesting sarcasm. “Perceptive little witch.”

You furrow your brow at him, surprised by his sudden arrogance. You would have sooner expected the man to tear a hole through you than meet your little question with a cocky response if his twitchy behavior was anything to go by. But… his voice sends a shiver down your spine, the amused lilt mixed with his accent, some natural charm that makes areas of you ache that haven’t been touched in years.

“A man must know to feed himself, ja?”

“Well, I don’t hunt.”

He huffs out a laugh at that, raising a hand to readjust his hood, pulling it back down over his face. König is not pretty, far from it from what you could see, but you almost find yourself downtrodden that he’s hiding himself again when you were only just starting to find yourself curious.

“I will teach you,” he suggests as he clears your table, depositing both your dishes and his own into the washbasin at the far corner of the kitchen. He’s helping, and your eyes merely track him dumbfounded.

“You don’t have to, König— I, um. I’m supposed to be teaching you, remember?” You’re trying to sound authoritative, like a proper mentor but it’s fruitless, really. How long had it been since a man was this close to you, living out in the forest? You had clients, sure, but in your craft you came to know about their proclivities, their ailments, and any interest you may have had died with their innumerable requests.

The Guild had set you up, surely, you decide as your eyes wander over to the man washing your dishes, the man who had prepared your dinner, who had stared openly at your ass. The man who smelled of dew and timber and fire smoke. The man with the most beautiful, tired eyes you had ever met.

You can see the muscles of his back through his tunic, tightly bundled up from where he’s drawn his sleeves to his bicep to wash up the remnants of dinner, mind almost numbing from the sight alone. It felt like some divine torture, to be sent something you adamantly did not want only for that very same thing to make your pulse quicken and throat dry.

“I want to teach you,” he tries again.

You feel sinful for the place your mind goes then. Do the ladies in the kingdom often allow monsters to bed them? Is his size comparable to the stature?

“Okay.” Your voice was tight, barely a whisper.

He finishes up his cleaning and turns to look at you as he wrings his hands over the washbasin, his eyes narrowed and crinkled at the corners. Grinning again like a wolf knowing he’s got his claws in you.

— — —

You go over the standard protocol when dealing with customers seeking remedies with König as you hear the approaching horse whinnying out in the yard. Simple, standard. Most people had a wariness for those who were touched by magic, understandably so. It’s human nature to fear what isn’t fully understood. With König’s imposing height and the veil over his face, you needed him to be extra careful in these situations. He doesn’t seem to take offense at your fretting, merely smiles beneath the veil as you speak and all is settled and well by the time your client wraps lightly at the door.

You swing the door open with a polite smile, hands clasped at the lap of your dress. The smile is maintained even as you catch sight of his face, scars from a horrific burn covering over half of it, his right eye filmed over and sightless in its socket. He wasn’t here to charm a lady or conceal his face with glamours, only for a balm to alleviate the lingering, phantom pains that stretched from his scalp down to his neck. A decent man, and a damned good blacksmith from what you had heard. He was one of your favorites.

König observes from the corner of the room, leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest without a word as you fetch the jar of balm for the client, accept his coin and send him back on his way.

“Oh.. I don’t know how he got that nasty burn but it’s hard to look at isn’t it?”

König gives you a look, something unsaid hinted at just beyond the surface of his icy eyes, and you realize it’s a little too late to pull your words back.

— — —

Days seem to pass by with an awkward tension in the air. It’s not because of his tutelage under you, either, because he’s doing surprisingly well with his studies. Potion crafting is a tricky, fickle sort of thing. One mistake and an entire batch is ruined and the gods only knew when you would stumble upon what was required whilst foraging again. König is careful, attentive as he follows your instruction. He studies diligently, spending his free time reading through his books, often out in the foyer and if not for how skilled he was, you would assume it was all for show. Wishful thinking, a vicious yearning settling in between your breasts that wants for him to try and impress you, to court you.

It’s tense because you’ve found you can’t keep the man out of your head. In the late hour when the house has fallen silent, you could often hear his desperate grunts through the thin slats of wood separating your own room from his. You’ve imagined the sight of him fisting his cock, biting down onto his scarred lip as he whines through his release more times than you would ever confess. The gods themselves couldn’t pry the admittance from your lips that you wait up sometimes to hear him with your own hand between your thighs.

And König had this look about him now, more confident as he walks about. His hands don’t twitch as much when the two of you speak.

It’s the seventh morning as you’re preparing tea for the both of you that he enters the cottage entirely nude (apart from the hood; he seems insistent about keeping it almost entirely on in your presence). His body drips with river water, looking more like the skillfully carved statues that took residence in the castle courtyard than any man at all. You can’t help your staring, and he seems unperturbed by it as he slips behind you to set some freshly plucked milkweed on the wooden countertop. So focused on the cords of tight muscle layering his body, the obscene thing swaying between his legs, you hadn’t even noticed he had bothered to collect an ingredient you so desperately needed.

A man such as he should be seated on a throne, worshipped by a harem of pretty ladies, all pawing at his lap. Yet— he merely had you, ogling him as openly as he seemed to do to you.

“For the elixir,” he hums, sounding amused as he tilts his head to look you over as he had a striking amount of times already.

“Yeah.” You try to subtly clear your throat, cursing yourself for the way your reaction prompts his eyes to dart to the swell of your breasts beneath your dress. “Thanks.”

“You look pretty today.” He’s making everything worse. Turning your quiet life around and filling you with some horrid feeling you’ve avoided for years out here in near-isolation. “You look pretty everyday,” he corrects himself before you can speak. The obscene pillar between his legs seems to grow at the sight of you, and if you were not certain before, you know assuredly now that something has cursed you.

A good, knowing witch would tell him that his compliments were inappropriate, unwarranted. She would tell him to not walk around with his cock on full display and send him off to practice mundane spells as punishment. You are not a good, knowing witch at all if the warmth on your face is anything to go by.

“How was the river?” You ask instead, graciously retrieving a towel from the cupboard to hand to him. Despite how orderly you tried to keep things here, it’s not the water he’s dripping all over the hardwood that has your mind spinning.

“Gut.” He says words in his native tongue, often, and you’ve already grown accustomed to deciphering them. They sound prettier on his tongue than your own. He accepts the towel and merely draping it over his broad shoulders. “Come with me next time,” he offers, all but innocently.

God damnit.

“I made tea.” You’re trying to avoid his undressing stare, busying yourself with the tea kettle. The scent of mint seems to calm you as you pour the tea into your own mug, careful not to spill it out onto the counter with your trembling hands.

“I like you.” Blunt as always, you wonder if he even has any sort of control on the things he says.

God damnit all.

“I like you too, König. You’re a good apprentice,” you respond, your nerves alight with something that you can’t quite place; a twig on the verge of snapping under its weight.

He laughs soft, and graciously gives you a reprieve from well… that as he steps out of the room to finally dress himself.

Later that evening as the elixir is fully prepared and the client arrives to pick it up, you realize that König is no where in sight. It’s not uncommon; the man certainly lacked his social graces, but he hadn’t seemed to mind the shopfront side of what you do before until you had spoken so carelessly. The client is a nervous little thing, a girl not yet a woman, anxious and shaky as she takes the vial from you with an abundance of thanks. It’s no wonder why she had requested such a thing meant to put a patch over her anxieties and communicate better now. You steal only a spoonful from the cauldron as you empty it, praying that it silences the buzzing of nerves and the fluttering in your heart as you bed down for the night.

— — —

You wake to a door slamming shut in the dead of night, followed by the quieted hiss of what you believe to be a curse in a language that is not your own. It immediately sends you on high alert, thinking back to the threat of bandits and enchanted wildlife or whatever else. Jolted from your bed by the kick of adrenaline, you tiptoe down the stairs to see that… nothing is out of place. The den is as homey as always, every vial and potion bottle in its place on the shelves. The only thing that appeared to be missing at all was a book on your shelf. You knew that book, too. It was a favorite of many of your customers, the ones with weathered skin or features that were not the golden standard of delicate, royal beauty. A book on glamours was not something that would be stolen away by any thief in the night, seeing as it wouldn’t be of much help at all without a dedicated practitioner.

It only really settles in for you that your apprentice snatched it away when you take a peek out of the window and your eyes settle on a darkened corner of the garden. Tall sprigs of lavender sprung up from the earth there, and an even taller man sat, legs crossed with your book in his lap beneath the milky glow of the moon.

König looks… agitated. Even from this distance, the glass and wall and several meters of organized plant life separating you, you can see his hands shaking as he ghosts his calloused fingertips over the pages. His shoulders tense and a fiery look in his eye. He reads the incantations aloud with proper annunciation, forced through his thick accent. Repeats them, several times over. Not a thing changes.

But you leave him be, return to bed, because despite him being your responsibility, his private matters are still his own. As much as you would like to snatch the book from his hands and confess through tears that he haunts your dreaming just as he is now, you can’t bring yourself to do so.

When the book is in its place the following morning with König still in his bed, you read over the pages heavily scented by lavender. The ones that tell you how he sees himself in truth without a single word from his own being. Too tall, too ugly, too ruined.

It’s not enough to say your heart breaks. You feel it shatter somewhere in your chest, little pieces crumbling down into the darkest pit of your middle. Perhaps he’s only doing this due to your careless words about your client the other day, perhaps he wants to be seen as something beautiful for once.

The day is spent with a heavy weariness in your eyes. König picks up some slack for you as you fester in a sadness that should not even be your own; prepares something meaty for you both to eat, incorrectly sweeps some dust from the wooden floors that you know you’ll have to properly clean later on, and even tends to the garden. He’s good with the plants, gentle as he plucks berries from their stems and cuts away only what was required with a sharp dagger.

While you’ve thrown yourself over a cushioned chair, König kneels before you to speak. He’s just finished telling you some gory tale about when he squired for Ser… something, a name you don’t even care to remember. It was a rare occurrence for him to open up, you’ve come to realize that. Maybe it was simply too soon for him, but then again, he seemed to have no qualms allowing you to hear his desperate howling at night or walk about after a bath with his cock fully erect in your line of sight. If words were too much then what the hell was all of that?

“How come you didn’t become a knight, König?” you ask him, your tone sounding a bit more dead than intended. It wasn’t that you weren’t interested in his stories, you were simply still coming to terms with one of his likely innumerable secrets. “The Guild said you were a good candidate, so why?”

You ask your questions, his eyes light up. He’s not used to this, it seems, and the fact that you want to know him at all makes him giddy. His fingers drum against his thighs, eyes creasing at the corners as he smiles beneath that veil and you wonder… wonder how the world could be cruel to someone like this at all when all that you want to do is bundle up with him beneath your thick quilts and kiss him in places only lovers would.

He doesn’t respond to your question, though. Another secret for some other time, you supposed. Instead, he asks his own, “Why are you so alone?”

König speaks freely, you knew that well enough but the words that escape his lips cause you to freeze all the same. His tone is neutral, not accusatory or mocking, but there’s something— something there you can’t properly uproot.

“I’m not lonely.” A little white lie couldn’t be too terrible, yet the thought of betraying your companion in even such a small way, hurting him like you assumed so many others had before is just unthinkable. “I am sometimes, but I like living here,” you correct.

“But you are alone,” he insists.

“I am not. You’re here.”

Your words are like a charm, really, and any rationale König may have had immediately dissipates when you speak them. He climbs over you, the chair creaking under your combined weight as he looks down at you with this hope-filled expression that tugs every one of your heartstrings at once. “Let me kiss you.”

His shallow breathing flutters his veil, the hunger in his eyes more than apparent, and you’ve the sense that a mere kiss would not suffice, turning into a long night with an impossible soreness between your thighs come morning.

You shake your head and he backs off immediately, returning to sit on the floor before you instead with a simple, “Okay.”

The room falls silent for a moment. You wanted to. You’ve been longing to. And yet the opportunity had gone and went; for any normal, sane person your rejection would have been enough. Weeks spent in his company should have taught you that König was a far cry from normal. The man treats you like you’re a doll, not a seasoned witch. Takes to hiding away from any company you may have and spends his nights outside in the dark wishing and failing to change what he was.

“If I tell you why I am not a knight will you kiss me?,” he tries again as you shift to sit upright in your seat.

“What? König, no… that’s not how—”

“I will court you,” he interjects quickly, rising to his feet to stare down at you. The man was practically buzzing with excitement, and you wonder if he intends to bolt out of the house right then to bring back ample gifts of flowers and fine silks just for a chance to mash his mouth against your own.

“You’re not here to court me,” you huff with a pinched brow. Stop making this harder! Why must you always make this harder?!

“I think about you at night.”

The giant professes his affections by telling you that he’s fucking his fist to the thought of you with all the simplicity of idle talk. Somehow, that seemed less alarming than the fact that you don’t even seem horrified. Words fail you when you desperately need them most, merely gaping up at him so dumbly you must have actually belayed interest, because he continues.

“In the river too.”

“König… that’s inappropriate,” you manage to find your voice then. You know that you’re a plaster saint, too, because the thought of bathing where he spreads his seed sends a swell of warmth from your tummy to the aching blossom between your legs.

“Ja, it is… why do you tease me? The way you look…” He trails off with a shake of his head, his blue eyes narrowing in confusion. He was trembling as though afraid, so violently you almost fear he’ll come crashing over you like an ocean wave. You would catch him, drown in salt water and foam, a curtain of sharp teeth and darkness.

He fidgets as he waits for an answer that never comes. What could you say? Admit that the way he feels is a mirror of yourself, that the two of you are only seconds from diving into a pool that you could never resurface from.

But just like before, König retreats up the shadowy staircase, up to his room. Another reprieve, another stone weighing heavy in the recesses of your mind.

— — —

Secrets are stupid, evil things you decide.

You’re staring into the glazed eyes of a dead buck as it stands before you on it’s hind legs. It’s head hangs limply from its broken neck, mouth gaping with each fragile intake of breath. It’s bloated belly leaks it’s own entrails as it takes a shaky step towards you, trying desperately to kick at you with the stiff limbs tucked against its chest.

“I don’t know how to make it go away,” König pants at your side, and despite his shallow, rapid breathing there’s this calm look in his eyes. This has happened before. This has happened before and to a far worse extent than a deer.

It makes sense, now, why something as trivial as casting a glamour simply didn’t work for König. The man was touched by something darker, something the King’s men would happily cut his head from his shoulders for. Necromancy was immoral and frankly, horrifying. Seeing it now, it was really no wonder why this sort of magic would send one directly to the headsman.

The deer huffs a breath, too long and ragged. It’s not used to breathing any more, after all. König steps between you two, his dagger raised. “Just… close your eyes.”

It’s over as quickly as it’s manifested and König does well at shielding you from the aftermath, your face pressed to his chest as he pulls you into his arms and walks you back home. What was meant to be a simple practicing session, resulted in chaos, and you’ve no words to give to fill the silence hanging over the two of you as he finally deposits you by the door.

You stand on shaking legs, a million questions swimming through your mind, but even as you part your lips to speak not a single sound comes out.

He looks exasperated when he finally remedies the quiet. “You’re afraid of me.” It’s not a question, only a resounding fact.

“No,” you lie immediately with a firm shake of your head.

“I will go.” König’s eyes are tired, always tired. He’s already slinking back towards the door when you reach for him, almost clawing at the length of his sleeve in your own desperation. If you were cursed this man was, tenfold, and you couldn’t bear the thought of sending him back out into a world that had hurt him so. One that would assuredly end his torment should this ever happen again. You don’t know whether you’re being merciful or selfish anymore; the definitions all a blur. You only know that the thought of König leaving your side feels like the ache of a thorn embedded in your heart.

“König, please— We can figure something out, we’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again,” you huff as you bury your face against his shoulder. He’s both tense and trembling beneath your warmth. “I just need time to think.”

He cocks his head, a resounding twinkle of mirth breaking through the listlessness in his eyes. “Why?”

König isn’t dull-witted. He knows the words you never have a chance to speak. No one’s ever held fast to his side like this; no one has ever truly wanted him.

You know that the second he pushes his veil up and presses his mouth to yours. It’s clumsy, the force he uses, as if he’s trying to headbutt you instead of give you his affection, but you reciprocate in turn. You breathe shakily against him when you finally bring yourself to part your lips and he immediately begins to languidly lap into your mouth, drawing his arms around you; one finding the base of your neck as the other settles on your lower back, his fingers digging into your velvet dress, bunching up the fabric enough to reveal the meat of your ass.

You both moan as though you’re already having sex, caught up in a tangle of limbs he tastes your mouth as though it were sweet wine; his tongue flicks against your own before pulling back, lapping at your lip, pushing back in in some steady repetition that makes your knees weaker. Your hands find the hem of his tunic, slipping beneath it to feel a wall of muscle layered over his abdomen and he groans into the kiss with such fervor you would think he’s already come. He tears the cloth off the second you thumb over his nipple and drops to his knees clutching at your thighs.

“I need to taste you.” He sounds so desperate, looks so pitiful as though he’ll cry if you don’t allow him to fuck you with his tongue. You’re too far gone to give him anything more than a nod, and he all-too-readily lifts the skirt of your dress, hooks his finger around the seat of your panties and buries his face between your thighs. The first sweeps of his tongue are almost punishing; he wastes no time plowing the muscle into your cunt, writhing and grinding it against your velvety walls. The sound is already obscene, but then he begins to moan.

He sounds even more desperate than those nights in his lonely room, somehow, as he paws at his own erection straining against his trousers and drives into your pussy at a feverish pace. When he finally moves to take your clit between his lips, you grasp at the top of his head to keep yourself upright, moaning so loudly you’re certain that the entire kingdom could hear. He hums, amused at this, places his hands on your ass and pushes your hips for you to grind against his tongue.

When he jerks your panties aside again to rub circles against your asshole, the tautly pulled coil inside of you finally snaps. You curl over him as you mewl, cradling his head as his tongue pushes against your labia and your slit to lap up every bit of your essence. He releases his grip on your ass as you tremble, strokes himself freely below you as he pants against your pulsing cunt. Graciously, he gives you a moment to recover before he’s rising to his feet, tearing off your ruined panties and lifting you in his arms just enough to rub his leaking tip against you, you give him a strangled cry of his name when his length brushes against your swollen clit.

“Let me fuck you,” he rasps, his eyes wide and pupils blown as you squirm in his arms. “Bitte. Please. Let me fuck you.”

“Yes— Please, please fuck me König,” you whine as your arms curl over his shoulders. He doesn’t hesitate when he lies you back against your rug and pushes your knees up to your chest. His fingers flex against your flesh at the sight of your pussy still twitching from aftershocks, soaked down to your ass and pleading to be filled by him. He drops a hand to spread your lips, groaning deeply from his chest as he watches in awe as the tip of his thick cock sinks into you.

You hadn’t realized just how dirty König was until you see that look in his eye, pulling his head out only to repeatedly push into you with a choked whine of sheer bliss. You hadn’t realized how filthy you were until you find yourself tucking your arms beneath your knees to keep yourself in position so he can grope at the flesh of your ass as he does it.

“So— fuck— so schön,” he mutters as he continues to tease you like this. It’s almost hell the way he still hadn’t filled you entirely when you ache to have that long, ugly pillar buried so far it’s bruising your very womb, and it’s almost heaven the way you squeeze against him with each shallow thrust, your pussy desperate to devour his weapon of flesh.

“König…” You’re breathing his name as though it were a prayer, and as though a gift from the heavens his calloused thumb begins to rub over your clit the moment he finally sinks himself into you. There’s resistance, your cunt wasn’t meant to take a cock so large, you’re certain, but he bottoms out after what feels like an eternity, parts your knees with one hand to see your face as he gasps. You take him all, enveloping him in a vise grip and he hissed something in his native tongue, a string of words you can only imagine are praise because the way he’s looking at you now is as if he’s found a goddess all for himself.

“I’m going to fill you,” he declares as he lowers himself atop you, his weight almost crushing. “I’m going to… feels so…” His words fall short as he begins to move, groping at one of your tits as his other hand remains over your mound, flicking your clit. König’s fingers trace against your nipple before pinching it just hard enough to draw a choked mewl from you as your back arches. “Ja, liebling… you need it..”

His pace picks up, thumb deftly rolling over your clit until you spasm around his cock. It’s savage, the fervor he puts into fucking into you, grinding the tip of his cock against your cervix until you cry out, only to draw back enough to bully against your g-spot until you shiver. Your orgasm hits you so unexpectedly and so hard your bite down on your lip enough to draw blood. König licks at your mouth as your sex pulses around him, groaning in tandem with your pretty cries.

He trails small kisses along your throat before biting down as his own climax hits. He alternates between spitting out words that sound like pure venom and moans that make him sound weak as he gives you one more thrust. His cock twitches so violently inside of you as he presses against your cervix your mind entirely blanks. You can’t tell if it’s his semen or your own slick spilling past his cock, painting your thighs when it all ends. You hang limply against him as he carries you over to the chair, keeping you plugged as he pulls you into his lap.

He fully unclothes you as he peppers your face and neck in sweet, open-mouthed kisses, pets you from the crown of your skull down to your back, brings a hand around your waist to pull you close as his other squeezes and squishes at your breasts. König’s gaze is adoring as your eyes meet his, he’s looking at you with a love you’ve never even known, the warmth of summer somehow still present in those eyes like glaciers.

“Will you stay?,” you force yourself to ask as if the answer isn’t already clear, his cock’s still buried in you and the man seemed utterly in love after merely having a sweaty, adrenaline addled session.

König presses his face into your hair, nuzzling at you as he kisses your temple. “You want me to stay?” He sounds bewildered, so fucking broken that he’s confused by the prospect anyone would even want him around, even if he just gave her the best fuck she’s ever had, even if she’s been staring at him adoringly since he found his way to her door.

“Of course I want you to stay!”

“Then… Ja, I will.”

It’s a declaration of love, in a sense.

König drops his hands to your hips as he kisses you again. The desperation has been strangled, buried someplace in your core. It’s sweet now when his kisses become sloppy and overwhelming. He shifts below you as he maneuvers your hips to grind against him, his length already hardening within you again. He noses at your jaw and pressed kisses to your cheeks when you take a moment to breathe. You curl your arms around him and bury your face into the crook of his neck as your ride him, the both of you moaning soft and panting against sweaty flesh. He finishes inside of you once more just as you lift his veil and kiss along his scars.

He bathed you in the river, carrying you down to the rocky shore as though you were a treasure, his hand stroking through your hair as the water laps over your bodies. It’s not enough to simply hold you, either, because one bath becomes two after he’s bent you over a stump and licked you to completion again before rutting into you like an animal.

Nights are no longer spent with a wall between, he takes to your bed without question, ensures you’re comfortable and warm as he holds you through the night. There’s a sort of desperation in you both, two outsiders that have finally found sanctuary in one another.

“I love you.” Followed by: “I love you.”

You’re not entirely sure who says it first.

— — —

“A deer?”

There’s a man in your home that you don’t recognize, looking you over as though you were well-bred cattle rather than a human being at all. Says he’s concerned about a potential necromancer after something foul slipped its way past the castle walls and paraded itself through an annual ball, sullying a few too-expensive and uncomfortably layered dresses and goring a man with its antlers.

König was seated in front of him, rigid with a forced calm you had never seen on him before, hands clasped and unmoving. You know he’s nervous anyway, his shallow breathing speaks volumes for what the veil keeps from you. You round the table to bring them both tea, trying your best to play the part of indifference as the two men speak.

König had said he didn’t know how to make it go away, and of course he didn’t, because how do you kill something that’s already died? Neither of you would have anticipated it finding its way there of all places, and in retrospect, you’re not even certain that the thought came to mind at all, you had lost yourselves in one another the moment you arrived home. Seeing as you both were the only magic-touched folks roving these woods, it was obvious why The Guild had sent this creep to question you.

“Yes. A large buck, it was,” the man continues, winking at you as he takes a sip of the warm liquid in the mug. You wished you had poisoned it, ridding the world of a man that made your skin crawl like this surely wouldn’t be too sinful. Looking to König, you realize that there’s no need for poisons, because the look in his eyes suggests that before this interrogation is over your rug will have a more stubborn stain than spilled potions and come.

“We use green magic,” you chime in flatly, giving König a moment to quiet his fury as the man turns his attention back to you. “Maybe a traveler slipped into the kingdom, it has nothing to do with König and myself. Why are you here?”

If he hadn’t already told you a thousand times earlier that morning when he took you in the garden, laid you down in a bed of blue and purple wildflowers, König would have told you he loved you right then. You were true, protecting him and risking your own head as well.

“That’s the thing,” the man begins with a laugh entirely devoid of amusement. “Your apprentice here was under similar scrutiny while he was in service to the king. A dead man brought back to life…” he waves his hand as he speaks, staring up at the ceiling as though he’s recounting poetry instead of listing the reasoning why he wanted to have your lover decapitated. “… killed ten good knights. We never suspected him at the time, but all of this…” He shrugs his shoulders and raises his brow, looking somehow even more insufferable than before.

You cross the room to gather the letter signed off by The Guild, detailing your apprentice’s arrival and thrust it into the man’s face. “He would have never passed any sort of eligibility exam if that were the case, and you sent him here.”

The man takes the letter with a click of his tongue before he laughs again. “We didn’t,” he says as he taps the signature at the bottom, hardly a signature at all, only a messy scrawl, the guild master’s name even spelled incorrectly.

König didn’t meet your gaze when you looked to him then.

You made a promise to him you would figure this all out, and you would. You just needed to buy some time, slip some wolfsbane into his tea—

“On behalf of The Guild, I do apologize for the trouble this monster has caused…”

There is no time.

“I’ll be sure that he and his rotting pets are disposed of prop—“

You’re clutching at the dagger König had left on the side table without even thinking it over, fingers curled so tightly around the grip, your knuckles felt alight. The man’s voice is silenced the moment he notices as he takes a wary step away from you. It’s not, really, that you could ever even see yourself taking a life, you never have, but the thought of losing König over a horrible chance in the stars that some uncaring god cursed him with makes bile crawl up the back of your throat and white hot fury course through your veins with all the subtlety of a stampede.

It wasn’t his fault.

König places himself between the two of you and curls his arm around you protectively. If lying for him hadn’t already resigned you to the same fate, drawing the dagger assuredly had. He gently pries the dagger from your hand and tucks your face against his chest, just as he had before when he tried to correct the accidental gift of life he had bestowed to the deer, only this time… you feel the pull of his muscles, you hear sounds of the dagger meeting it’s mark as he cuts through the interrogator’s tender flesh. It takes mere seconds for you to know his blade has struck true, the dying man eliciting a weak gurgling cry from his torn throat as König drops the dagger to the floor with a clatter and strokes your hair.

He makes you stand outside while he cleans up his mess.

A sane woman would run, she would count her losses and look back on her time spent with this unhinged man with criticism. You find that you are not a sane woman when you realize the tears falling freely down your cheeks are not of fear or anger at your own situation, but at the knowledge that he’s suffered being shunned on his own for so long; that he’s killed without remorse because this is what it takes for someone like him to survive at all.

When he finally returns from burying the body and scrubbing the blood from your floor, you readily embrace him and he nuzzles into your hair.

“Es tut mir leid,” he huffs out against you, pulling you so close to him you think, pray, he’ll never let go. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” It’s not and you both know it, but you reassure him with your words and soft kisses to his cheeks as he wipes away your tears. “We can not stay here.”

We. Us. Together.

Something breaks in him at your words, and he shuts his eyes tightly to fight back the tears like claws at his eyes.

“So, tell me where we’ll go.”

He tells you of a place he read about in a book, somewhere across the sea and past a stretch of hills where the accidents he may cause won’t have him looked upon like a monster, where you can love one another in comfort, a place he’s dreamed about since he was a boy and found out just what he was when he reanimated his mother’s beloved cat. He tells you of his father’s cruelty, that a cat’s claws aren’t the only thing that’s left him riddled with scar tissue.

He tells you everything as you pack your things and begin a long walk to a shoddy harbor by the sea, his hand in your own as your board the ship to a new home, a new beginning.

[1800-fight-me]

Dark Devotion

Vampire!Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader

Rating: E (Explicit) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warnings: Once again, gothic horror romance vibes. The monster gets the girl. Fear, horror, and explicit PiV sex. Slightly non-con as Aemond compels reader, but reader definitely consents (you'll understand when you read it).

Word count: About 5.2k

Synopsis: Running from your old life somehow leads you directly into the arms of a monster, one that shows you pleasures you never could've dreamed of.

Author’s note: I know I have been completely MIA and inconsistent but tbh my life has been incredibly stresseful and I lost all motivation to write for a while. This is the first thing I've written in months that I am genuinely proud of. I even made a whole ass moodboard for it! I truly hope y'all enjoy. Happy Halloween! P.S. Comments will make my entire day and earn you a kiss on the forehead!

I am no longer using a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on!

Aemond Masterlist

There was a phrase you heard quite a few times in your village as a little girl, ‘the night is dark and full of terrors’. Your mum would always roll her eyes and mumble something about ‘religious fanatics’. You were always inclined to agree with her, that is until this night. 

This night truly was dark and full of terrors. 

Thunder cracked loud enough that your ears rang as rain poured something awful. The harsh droplets pelted at your skin and the sky split in half as a lightning bolt landed merely a stone’s throw before you. 

Your horse neighed in panic loud enough that you could hear him over the bellowing wind as he reared back on his hind legs, causing you to slip and fall off and land directly on your backside in the mud. 

You gasped in shock and did not even have time to call out before your horse bolted away, leaving you drenched and muddy on the forest floor. 

Instead of crying you merely turned your head up towards the sky, embraced the pain of the harsh rain against your cheeks, and screamed at the heavens in frustration. 

You managed to pull yourself up before the mud sucked you in below the surface of the world, adjusted the hood of your cloak once again over your head, and trudged forward. 

Your boots sloshed through the dampened forest floor and you thought that perhaps the naysayers in your village were right. Maybe the gods were punishing you for your promiscuity. 

When you laid with the soldier passing through your village and allowed him to take your maidenhood, you were convinced there would be no consequences. 

You were no one, nothing, and not having your maidenhood intact changed nothing other than the subject the gossipers in town clucked about. 

It seemed it also changed the gods’ vengeance towards you. 

This night was dark and full of terrors, that much you could sense as fear shot down your spine. 

You increased your pace, fearing the creatures that could be lurking in the woods, desperate for some sort of shelter. The feeling of eyes watching you from time to time during your journey became steady and unceasing. You felt uneasy, the hair on the back of your neck stood straight up, and you knew it had nothing to do with the cold in the air. 

Eventually you had no other choice but to ignore the feeling, having looked behind and around you dozens of times in search of your stalker to no avail.

You trudged along for what felt like hours, not once finding anything that could serve as a temporary shelter. That was, until you somehow stumbled upon a near debilitated castle. 

As it came into view, you shuddered at the feeling the crumbling building invoked in you, but any shelter was better than none at this point. 

Stone walls with vines nearly overtaking them towered over you as you rushed forward towards the large wooden doors. You looked up and thought you saw a pair of gemstone blue eyes glowing in the dark from a window at the top of the tower, but you blinked and they were gone. 

You shook your head, sure your tired eyes were playing tricks on you, and reached for the handle of the door. 

You took a shuddering breath and pulled the heavy door open. Shock filled your very being as you were overcome with warmth and light. 

While the outside of the building was shabby, the inside was magnificent. It was well kept and well lit. A home fit for a king, with a grand staircase was directly in front of you and an elderly man in a servant’s outfit was walking down it.

“Young lady! Who are you and how dare you come into this home uninvited?” the man chided as he descended the last of the steps and stood before you. 

“I-I’m so sorry, sir. I didn’t know anyone lived here, I was merely searching for shelter from the awful storm,” you said, eyes wide- portraying how stunned you felt. 

The man’s stern facade crumbled and he smiled warmly at you, you let go of your held breath and managed a small smile back at him. 

“Ah, yes, I tend to forget the master’s illusion on the outside of the building. He does it to keep the unwanted away,” he said. 

“Illusion? Like magic?” you asked. 

“Well, yes, of course. Come in, let’s get you out of the cold. You must be miserable,” the man said as he ushered you inside and closed the door behind you. 

“Alfred,” you heard the voice of a man call out from another room. His voice caused a shiver to go down your spine. 

“Yes, sire,” Alfred, the man before you replied, and the man with the shiver-inducing voice came into view as he rounded the corner and came into the entryway where you stood. 

Your breath caught once again as you saw the most striking and beautiful man you’d ever seen in your life. 

He was tall, nearly impossibly so, with long silver hair that fell nearly to his waist. He moved with the grace and control of a lethal killer. His facial features were sharp, as if he was cut from marble. His skin of pale white only emphasized his most distinct feature, an eye of sapphire that covered part of a scar that cut across his forehead and cheek. His remaining true eye was also a distinct blue color, nearly matching the sapphire one perfectly.  

Ethereal was the word that arose in your mind as he strode towards you, amusement twinkling in his eye as he took you in. 

“And who might you be, lovely?” he asked. 

After entirely too long of a pause, in which his amusement appeared to only grow as his beautiful lips curved into a smirk, you managed to stutter out your name. 

He repeated it back to you, leaning closer towards you, and your heartbeat sped into a gallop. He titled his head, almost as if he could hear it. You dismissed the thought, deeming it absurd. 

“My name is Aemond. Welcome to my home. Tell me, how exactly did you manage to find your way here?” he asked curiously. 

You leaned in closer with him, not realizing that your face was merely inches from his at this point, utterly drawn in and intoxicated by his presence. 

You were filled with a desire to please him and as a result you began rambling. “I was attempting to move away from my village. Take off and find a new life, but then there was a series of unfortunate events including running for my life, becoming irretrievably lost, and then becoming something I’m certain looks similar to a drowned rat after my horse was startled by the storm and I stumbled around for hours attempting to find shelter.” 

“Oh you poor sweet thing. Let us take care of you,” he purred and rather than set you at ease, something in the words made you feel as if your misadventures were far from over. And yet, you were entranced by his gaze and could not so much as force yourself to look away or take a step back. 

His smile grew wider as you nodded meekly. 

Finally, Aemond released you from his gaze as he turned to Alfred and asked him to fetch the maid Portia to assist you in cleaning yourself up. 

Before you knew it, you were being ushered up the stairs and into a room you could only assume was a guest room by an elderly woman with a sweet round face. 

She helped you to remove your muddy sodden clothes and you groaned in relief as you slid into a warm bath. You smiled warmly at her as you scrubbed your body and she cleaned your hair, all the while chattering to you about her love for her husband Alfred and their happiness working for Master Aemond. 

“Can you tell me about him?” you asked curiously as she helped you to dress. 

The dress she helped you into was of crushed velvet, sapphire blue like the gemstone in Aemond’s eye that had so caught your attention. The dress had a corset and plunging neckline that emphasized your curves. 

Portia hummed as she led you to sit down and began working on your hair. 

“He is a bit odd, yes. Intimidating and perhaps even scary to some, but he has a good heart. And is loyal and protective to those he cares for. He has treated my husband and I very kindly,” she said with a caring smile. 

Her words put your heart more at ease, still slightly worried about the new surprising circumstances you had found yourself in. 

“Does he typically extend that same kindness to visitors?” you asked, nervousness coloring your tone a bit. 

“It depends on the intentions of the visitor. A sweet thing like you? You’ll be well taken care of,” she said. 

“Does he often have ill-intentioned visitors?” you asked curiously. 

“It does happen from time to time, those in the nearest village hold hate for him in their hearts. Old prejudices I suppose, but no matter!” she said, changing the subject and her tone as she turned you around to view yourself in the floor length mirror. 

“Take a look at yourself, my dear. You look stunning, see? All the horror of the day washed completely away,” she said soothingly as she ran her hands up and down your upper arms. 

Your breath caught in your throat as you saw yourself. She was right, you’d never seen yourself look so beautiful before. You actually looked fit to reside in such a lovely home, unlike before, unlike any other time in your life. You’d never worn such a beautiful and expensive dress. You ran your hands across the soft fabric, up your torso and thought that it was the perfect inviting dress for someone else to touch you in. 

Images flashed in your head of the soldier you allowed to touch you, never while you wore something so pretty, but pleasurable nonetheless. Romps in the hay, literally as the two of you would often meet in your father’s barn and he taught you the art of a pleasure you’d never known before. 

You were not disillusioned about it, you knew there was no love between the two of you. You knew he would one day have to move on without you, but when he left town just as others found out about your affair, you were frustrated at being left alone with the consequences of a choice the both of you made. 

The townspeople, the people you grew up with, turned on you and called you a whore. Even your own father fell victim to their hateful whispers about you and kicked you out of his home. Only your mother helped you, sneaking you out in the dead of night and gifting you her horse to aid you on your journey into another life. 

You shook your head slightly in an attempt to clear those thoughts, the memories of both pleasure and pain, and smiled at your reflection. 

“Thank you, Portia, your efforts are greatly appreciated,” you said as you turned and embraced her in a warm hug. 

She squeezed you before releasing you and leading you out of the guest room and back down the grand staircase. 

You followed her into an elegant dining room, a fireplace lit - the fire crackling and warming the spacious room. The table was large enough to seat ten people, but only two place settings were set next to one another, somehow creating an intimate dinner even in such a large room. 

Aemond sat at the end of the table, and stood as he saw you. 

“Good evening, you look magnificent,” he said, voice as velvety as your dress. 

You did your best to hide how his words flustered you as you smiled softly and curtseyed. 

“Thank you, sire. But, this is too much. I did not mean to interrupt your your evening so and I-I’ll never be able to repay you-” 

He reached a hand out and you placed your hand in his. At the brush of your skin against his, your words fell off. 

His hands were cold, and yet- the mere brush of his fingers against yours filled your body with heat. 

“There is no repayment necessary, the pleasure of your company will be more than enough if you would please dine with me,” he said. 

“Of course,” you breathed out as you allowed him to guide you to your seat. 

Your nose was filled with the aroma of a hearty stew in a bowl before you and your stomach growled in anticipation. 

You gave Aemond a sheepish look even as he chuckled. 

“Eat, of course. You must be near ravenous. I’m familiar with the feeling,” he said, and his voice dipped lower. His eyes appeared to flash at his words, causing your heartbeat to jump, but you were far too hungry to think about it and played it off as a trick of the light, a reflection of the fire in his gemstone eye. 

You tucked in and struggled to hold in your groan of satisfaction at the taste of the soup. 

Aemond poured you both glasses of red wine and you thanked him as he handed you yours. 

“Are you not going to eat?” you asked him, suddenly feeling self conscious that you were shoveling mouthfuls of stew and bread into your mouth while he merely sipped on his wine and watched you. 

“Oh I intend to. Just not right now, I had what you might call a late afternoon snack,” he said and something about his words had a chill run up your spine, despite the warmth of both the room and the soup in your belly. 

“You told me of your journey here, but tell me about yourself. I find myself fascinated by the entirety of you,” he practically purred, and you immediately forgot your apprehension at his previous words. 

“I feel the same way about you,” you replied breathily. 

He smiled, a full glorious smile that made you feel as if the storm had ended and the sun had come out. But there was a glint, a sharpness, and with a start you realized his canine teeth were elongated. 

He must have seen the fear in your eyes as he reached over and grasped your hand gently. You felt that on fire feeling in your skin once again, but also felt all the fear wash out of your body. 

“Tell me about you,” he requested again, voice soft and low, a tone that caused you to wonder if that was how he spoke to his lovers late at night. 

You were filled with compliance, with a desire to please him, and so you did as you were asked, and told him everything about yourself. You told him of your childhood, your parents, your likes and interests, your dreams for a better life. 

He watched you with rapt attention, murmuring questions to prompt you to further share with him about yourself. And, oh gods, when he looked at you that way, his sapphire gaze so intense, you wanted to share yourself completely. 

“What had you so desperately searching for a new life?” he finally asked. 

So you explained, shamefully, how you laid with a man and became the village whore for merely choosing your own pleasure over mediocrity for once in your life. 

You looked down at your empty bowl, toying with the spoon, while you waited for his reaction, for his disgust and dismissal of you. 

Long cold fingers gently grasped your chin and lifted your head up to meet his gaze. 

You were enraptured by his undivided attention. 

“There’s no need to listen to the opinions of small minded individuals. Pleasure is nothing to feel guilty about. Especially when there are so, so many pleasures in life to discover,” he said and the soft lilt of his voice along with the dark tone made your toes curl. 

You wanted to experience unknown pleasures, you wanted him to teach you, to explore with you. 

You bit your lip, nodding slightly in agreement, and his hand slid up from your chin to curl around your jaw. His thumb stroked the apple of your cheek and you shivered. 

He pulled your bottom lip from between your teeth and you waited, nearly shaking with anticipation, for him to press his lips against your own, to replace the pressure with some of his own, and he smirked as if he knew what you were thinking, but pulled back. 

He sat back in his chair, far enough from you that you no longer felt intoxicated by his scent and presence, and you let out a soft breath of disappointment. 

Amusement and desire both seemed to dance in his gaze. You took a sip of wine, looking away from him to clear your head, and took a breath to steady yourself. 

“Will you tell me about yourself as well, sire?” you asked. 

“Aemond,” he corrected. “Please call me Aemond, sweet one.” 

“Aemond, I’d love to hear about you,” you requested once more. 

It seemed he had the same response to hearing his name drip from your lips as you had when he said yours, for his eyelid fluttered closed and his hand clenched into a fist, but the next breath he had composed himself once more and nodded. 

“My life… it feels as if it has been an eternity. A lonely one at that,” he said and this time you reached over and took his hand, holding it in support. 

“I was treated as if I were unwanted from the moment I was born, my eye taken hatefully when I was merely a boy, and then as a man I was deemed a monster. I was driven out of my home, my family did naught to protect me, and it took me far too long to find a place to call my own. Still, others that encounter me call me a monster and I find myself alone most of the time,” he explained and your heart hurt for him. 

“Why do others call you a monster? Your gemstone eye?” you asked as you leaned closer to him once again. 

This time you leaned in and placed your hand on his face, tracing the length of his scar with your thumb as you gently held his cheek. 

“Hmmm,” he hummed in a noncommittal sort of agreement. 

“I think it’s beautiful,” you said, your voice so soft it was practically a whisper. 

It was evident he heard you as he practically nuzzled his face into your hand. He gripped your wrist and ran his nose from the palm of your hand to the inside of your wrist, breathing in deeply. 

His actions, though gentle and loving, caused an inexplicable feeling of fear to drip down your spine, particularly when his lips pressed against your skin. You’d never realized what a vulnerable place in the body the wrist was, a bundle of veins, until Aemond pressed his perfectly curved lips against it. 

But as soon as it came, the fear was gone as Aemond looked up at you and you met his gaze once more. 

You reached out and pushed his silver hair out of his face where it had fallen and tucked it behind his ear. 

His long gorgeous hair was so soft you yearned to run your fingers through it and learn of his response, learn of the noises he would make when in pleasure. 

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured, appearing as entranced by you as you were by him. 

You could do nothing to hide the way his words flustered you, as the weight of his attention had you pinned down and unable to move. 

He caught your hand and held it in place against his hair. 

As he leaned closer to you, his movements were slow and deliberate, like a predator trying not to spook his prey. 

Your heart began to sprint and you were certain you would never be able to slow it again. 

His sharp nose brushed against yours, and the anticipation was so strong you forgot how to breathe. 

Aemond hummed softly before he finally, finally pressed his lips to yours. 

As his lips moved against yours you felt inherently changed, different. It felt as if a shadowed hand with sharp talons dripping with blood had reached through your chest and gripped your heart and claimed it. 

You were his, his, and you were prepared to swear to him your utter devotion, your life. You didn’t quite understand what you were experiencing, but you didn’t care as he deepened the kiss. As he claimed your mouth you gasped, letting out a small whimper. This gave him the in he needed to slide his tongue against yours. 

You shuddered, gripping his hair tighter as he lifted you with an ease that should not be possible and sat you atop his lap. 

Your dress prevented you from straddling him like you wished, but you could not complain as he gripped your waist tightly. You ran your hands from his face and his hair to his shoulders, down to his arms, gripping him tightly and kissing him deeply, with everything you had, with utter devotion. 

You let out a small yelp of surprise as your tongue explored his mouth and brushed against something entirely too sharp. 

He tore his lips from yours and met your gaze. Your chest brushed against his as it heaved while you attempted to catch your breath. 

Fangs, you recognized. Those were fangs in his mouth, made for sinking his teeth in. 

You could not discern how you felt, what you thought, for the utter fire for him burned through you. 

He traced your jaw, then the line of your neck down to your collarbone, slowly, achingly slowly as you wanted nothing more than for him to kiss you again. Then, his lips followed the same journey his fingers had just taken. You shivered, your head falling back as your eyes fluttered shut. 

“Tell me you are mine,” Aemond ordered, and his breath against the sensitive skin of your neck made you shiver. 

“I’m yours,” you replied breathily and you could feel his smile against your throat. 

“Tell me you want me,” he ordered. 

“I want you,” you whined, and his grip on you tightened nearly to the point of pain, but you could not focus on that. No, not when you felt those fangs graze against that most sensitive spot on your neck. 

The night is dark and full of terrors, the words rang through your head once more and your breath stopped as you realized you had fallen into this beautiful monster’s trap. Fear shot down your spine and made your body tense and freeze. 

“Hmm,” he hummed in reassurance as he pressed a kiss against your vulnerability. 

Your body responded immediately, you relaxed completely, becoming nearly ragdoll like in his arms. He lifted you, holding you as he stood, and walked into the next room, a sitting room of sorts, and laid you on a chaise. 

“Aemond,” you breathed out. 

He kneeled next to where you laid. 

“I care for you,” he said as he brushed a hand across your cheek, “I don’t wish to compel you.” 

He kissed you once more. At the feeling of his lips against yours, you were reborn. You had control over your body once again and you yanked him atop of you, deepening the kiss. 

He groaned into your mouth, and pulled back slightly, causing you to whine in protest. 

“You truly want me?” he asked, his tone sounding surprised. 

Your survival instinct had long since gone quiet as a result of you continuously ignoring its protests. 

“Yes,” you said and pulled his lips to yours again. 

“Perhaps we can make a deal then,” he said, trailing his lips down once more to his favorite spot on your neck, where your veins were most vulnerable.

“If you give me what I want, I will reward you with everything you desire and more,” he said and you again felt the sharpness of those fangs. 

You let out a shuddering breath. 

“Yes,” you agreed, all logic disappearing as desire overtook your very being. 

And you knew. You knew and he knew, that his compelling magic was gone, the desire you felt for him this entire time was real and true, not due to compelling whatsoever. There was something more, something deeper at play here, and your choice was your own as you chose him, completely. 

And with that, he groaned lowly and sank his fangs into your neck.  

Sharp indescribable pain is what you expected but instead it was like a dull buzz of pain nearly overwhelmed by pleasure. 

He ran his hands down your body, ensuring he paid special attention to your breasts and you gasped his name. 

Aemond’s hand slipped up your dress, inching up your burning hot skin, and finding the wetness between your legs that awaited him. 

You whimpered softly as he brushed your panties aside and finally touched you where you wanted him the most. 

His nimble fingers spread your slick and quickly found a rhythm circling your bundle of nerves as he continued to drink your blood. 

As the heat inside you built, he pulled his teeth from your neck and slowly dragged his tongue up your neck, licking up every last drop of blood from your skin. His fingers moved in perfect time with his tongue, and with no notice your release hit you, overwhelming you completely as you moaned loud enough to echo through the room. 

“Absolutely exquisite,” he said as he pulled back from your neck and looked deep into your eyes. 

He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, and you stared at him as your chest heaved, absolutely entranced. He then replaced his thumb with his bloodsoaked lips. 

He groaned as you kissed him eagerly, your blood in his mouth not causing any hesitation whatsoever. 

“I need you,” you gasped. 

“I have needed you for an eternity,” he replied as he began untying the corset of your dress. 

You moaned as the cool air hit your skin and he slowly and gently removed the beautiful dress from your body, leaving you completely bare. You turned and looked at the pile of sapphire velvet on the floor. 

He gripped your chin, turning your head to look at him once more. You helped him to remove his shirt, and then watched eagerly as he unbuckled his belt, beginning to make himself just as bare as you. 

“I must admit something to you,” he said and your mouth ran dry as the hard length of him sprung free. 

“Yes,” you asked breathlessly as you reached and wrapped your hand around him. 

He let out a sound low in his throat, something similar to a growl, as you began to move your hand up and down his length. 

“It is not happenstance that you found yourself in my home. I must confess that I have been watching you for a while now. I needed you. I needed to taste you, to make you mine. I influenced your journey here, guided you, so I could finally show you my devotion,” he said. 

“Then make me yours, completely,” you pleaded and guided his length to line up with your wet heat. 

With a groan he nodded his head and pushed himself inside you. 

He filled you, inch by glorious inch, and you could do nothing but gasp for air as you felt fuller than you’d ever felt in your life. 

You reveled in the press of your naked chest against his, as you pulled him close enough that you couldn’t tell where your body ended and where his began.

You were one with the vampire atop you, and you’d never felt more intense pleasure in your life. 

When he was certain you were ready, he kissed you, surprisingly tenderly, before he pulled out nearly all the way, and pushed back inside you, sinking to the hilt. 

His tempo was slow and deep, as he gazed deep in your eyes and told you how beautiful he found you. 

“Perfect, so perfect,” he praised as you mewled for him when he tilted your hips up and hit a spot of pleasure inside you that had never been found before. 

Aemond continued his pace, holding you tight, as your nails dug into his back. 

“Come for me, darling, I can feel how close you are,” he purred in your ear. 

He slipped his hand between your bodies and found your bundle of nerves once more, stroking it and you nearly screamed as your release wracked through you. 

You felt you had reached heaven, somehow, in the arms of your ethereally beautiful monster lover and it took you several moments to come back down. 

So lost in your pleasure, you had not even felt a sting of pain as he sunk his teeth into your wrist. He gulped your blood, moaning in pleasure, as he continued to pump himself in and out of your tight wet heat, chasing his own release. 

You tangled your other hand in his hair, and gripped tighter around his cock, urging him on, encouraging both his release and for him to continue to drink from you. 

He groaned as his release found him, sinking deep inside you, bringing ecstasy to you both. 

You shuddered a breath as his movements slowed and stopped. He pulled his teeth from your wrist, and murmured your name, like a praise- like a prayer, with utter devotion. 

As he looked at you, you reached up and wiped your blood from where it had dripped down his chin. 

He brought your wrist to his lips once more, and before you could protest that you were beginning to feel lightheaded, he surprised you by licking the wound clean instead of sinking his teeth back in, just as he had with the wound on your neck. 

You watched in fascination, as his saliva magically closed your wound, leaving only a small scar. 

He looked up and grinned at you, your blood coating his teeth, and you whimpered and pulled him into another kiss. 

He kissed you languidly, tongue moving against yours, as if he had all of eternity with you. 

“I have never tasted anything so divine,” he purred against your lips. 

“I have never felt so wonderful in all my life,” you said back as you pulled back enough to look upon him once again. 

“I can feel it. Can you feel it? You are to be my eternity, my everlasting, my one true mate. I give you my utter devotion. You said you wanted to start a new life. Start it with me. Let me turn you and we can be together forever. Stay with me,” he pleaded. 

And so you did. 

Yes, this night was dark and full of terrors, but this terror had wrapped himself around you, sunk deep inside you, and devoted his entire being to you, offering you pleasure and love unlike any you’d ever experienced before. 

And so, later, when Aemond fed you his blood and turned you and you opened your eyes into this new life, becoming a terror yourself, you grinned and kissed your vampire mate, prepared to spend forever by his side. 

[kunikinnie]

a/n: the angst writer lives!! this has been in my wips for a long time and just decided to finish it (sorry that Kunikida's is much longer than the others lol)

warnings: some profanity

watching you marry someone else

featuring: Kunikida, Akutagawa, Fukuzawa, Fitzgerald x F!Reader

Kunikida Doppo

a/n: based on my aunt's story + this is sort of a sequel to this short fic

He didn't know why he came here. Was it because the entire Agency attended? Most likely, but he's not quite sure himself.

It might be wrong for him to be here in the first place. It was he who dumped you, after all. But he supposed that your working relationship after that wasn't too strained - if anything, it seemed you were still good friends. Perhaps your romantic history had been superseded by your more recent interactions, so there's nothing for him to be worried about.

The venue of your wedding was an excellent choice. Nothing flashy yet elegant, and the decorations were quite refined. It seemed well-planned as well. He mentally took notes for his own - if he were ever to have one, that is. At the back of his mind old drafts of the wedding you two could've had suddenly reappeared along with old memories that should've long been forgotten.

Fortunately the pain growing in his chest stopped momentarily when you finally appeared at the entrance. His eyes widened, shocked at how beautiful you looked. It was perfect. From the way your dress showed off your figure in all the right places to the way your hair fell lovingly on your shoulders to the way the sunlight emphasized the brightness of your eyes - it was truly perfect.

Somehow he imagined it was him you were walking to. It was as if his greatest dream was suddenly becoming a reality, and the ideal life he had been chasing for so long was finally within his grasp. The millisecond-long glance you showed him felt like you were intently gazing at him for hours.

But the harsh truth came crashing down as you continued to walk past him. The moment your eyes met the grooms', Kunikida saw the invisible link you two had. It was something to admire, really, but also something to be envious about.

The pain in his chest returned with ten times the force it had earlier. As the minutes passed so did his frustration rise, and every thought he had from the moment you two broke up - no, from the very first time you two met each other suddenly overwhelmed him.

Kunikida loved you so much. Nothing has changed and it never will. If he simply never became ambitious, if he simply never lied to himself, if he simply never trusted his stupid brain over his heart then maybe-

"Kunikida-san, there's an emergency at the office."

Tanizaki's whisper caught him off-guard. But within seconds he recomposed himself. Although the wedding was far from over, duty came first.

He discreetly said goodbye to his coworkers and silently left the venue with his junior. Of course, he stole one last glance at you before finally leaving.

Surprisingly Tanizaki took the wheel, but Kunikida paid it no mind as seconds could not be wasted when more urgent matters were at hand.

"What's the situation like? What happened?"

Strangely, the younger detective continued to drive off in silence.

"Oi, Tanizaki. Didn't you hear me?"

The more he hesitated, the more the older detective became suspicious. What the hell was he up to?

"A-actually," Tanizaki finally replied. "Nothing happened. It's just that Dazai-san said-"

"What?!"

"I-I mean we could all feel it, Kunikida-san. We thought you just needed some space to let it all out."

"There's no need." He sighed heavily. "Really, you're all worried for nothing. We should head back."

Still, he did not stir. "They'll be exchanging vows by the time we get back."

It was Kunikida's turn to be silent. Even if the car continued to travel further away from your wedding, it was almost as if he could hear those vows being recited right in front of him.

His eyes remained fixed on the road ahead, focusing on nothing in particular. A single tear fell down his cheek which he promptly wiped off with the back of his hand.

"It's okay, senpai. You can pretend I'm not here."

Kunikida wasn't sure why he broke at those words. It was quite unbecoming of a senior to show his emotions this openly to a coworker, let alone someone much younger than him.

Yet the tears won't stop coming. It was as if the frustration that built up across the years finally let itself free. When was he ever honest about his feelings on the matter? When has he ever shared the truth with anyone, even with himself? The bitterness at each sob was so great that he was sure his voice would be hoarse by the next day.

His ideals should've brought you happiness - that's the most fundamental rule he completely forgot. Yet maybe it was his failure in keeping that that ironically brought you to the one who will truly bring you everlasting joy. He'd have to learn to accept this fact, even if it meant forgetting the what-ifs, even if it meant letting you go, even if it meant sacrificing his own happiness.

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

The whole place was so... bright. Everything was white and fluffy, from the flowers on the aisle to the lights hanging on the trees. It was strange. It felt like he was in a children's book.

How unfitting for someone like him whose very being was, in essence, black. From his hair to his shoes, his coat, and perhaps even his soul.

But it's not like the guests noticed a shadow silently standing between other shadows. If anything, his whole outfit made him blend into the background perfectly as he intended. After all, Akutagawa wasn't in the strictest sense (or perhaps even loosest sense).

In fact, he could barely see what was happening. People in light colored formal garb, both male and female, the groom sporting something that stood out even more from the guests - he felt dizzy just looking at the scene.

But the moment you stepped in, all the color and light seemed to dim. Your white dress dazzled in the sunlight and your face shone brighter than he remembered. Has it really been so long since you last met?

All he could do was stare at you from the shadows. Your light was so blinding to his darkness, yet his eyes refused to shift their focus. How could he, when he knew that this would probably be the last time he'd ever see you?

You were better off without him. If you stayed with him, your smile would never be like the one you wore now. It's not like he could ever force himself upon you, either, even if it seemed that you cared for him more than anyone should have-

His chest began to throb painfully. The searing pain was much greater than most attacks he's had, rendering him almost completely helpless. Shit. If someone were to attack now, he'd be dead. Or if he were to give himself away and you spot him - ugh. He'd rather die.

Akutagawa struggled to walk away slowly, deciding to forget everything he saw there. It didn't do anything good for him. Why did he even decide to come here? Was he such a masochist to remember everything "good" you ever brought into his life? Wasn't it enough that he'd dream of you more often than he'd like, only to wake up in total darkness?

Each step he took triggered a memory for him. Each smile, each laugh, each embrace that you so cruelly bestowed upon him felt more real than the scene he just witnessed. Your... love had not yet disappeared, at least not in his mind, and how dearly he wished he could've relished in it a little bit more before it truly faded away.

Still, he was somewhat thankful he didn't. If it were granted, he would've craved your love more and left him with more pain in the end.

He still had that stupid sunflower keychain you gave him. It was a small crocheted piece, tattered but still quite vibrant in its colors. He never understood why you gave him that specifically in the first place. He only knew that you wanted it to make him happy.

Well, it still somewhat accomplishes that goal. It's the only physical remembrance of you he still has left, after all.

But like the sunflower that dies without the warmth of sunlight, he promised to let his feelings wither along with the memory of your smile.

Fukuzawa Yukichi

Unspoken words last longer. Deny it as much as he'd like, the truth is Fukuzawa's feelings for you had only grown deeper as the years passed by and only now did he wholeheartedly regret not telling you sooner.

He'd convinced himself that being friends - no, best friends was the best thing that could've happened between the two of you. No matter how much time was spent away from the other, each moment you two had together was only made more precious; it was as if you had never been separated in the first place.

All your dreams, all your hurts, all your pains - everything, he knew. And it was mostly true vice versa, except for that one very fact that stubbornly kept secret all this time.

He wasn't sure if he was truly glad to have been invited to your wedding. Sure, it was an intimate friends-and-family-only occasion that he was honored to be part of, yet the meant having to face the ultimate reality that he had for so long ignored.

He was present at your side of the wedding preparations. While others were scurrying along to bring you things you needed, he stood idly as clueless as ever. Maybe he should've just headed directly to the venue instead...

Suddenly, you requested him to enter your room. Well, if he could finally be useful then what was he to-

Astonished isn't even enough to describe his reaction. His hand froze on the doorknob the moment his eyes landed on you. Were you always this beautiful? Because it felt almost wrong to look at you, especially when his heart was holding things it shouldn't be.

"Hi Yu-kun," you spoke as usual. "I hope I'm not bothering you." Of course you're not a bother. You could never be a bother. "Just wanted a little chat to ease the anxiety, you know? My mind's been all over the place since last night."

You began spilling out of some of your true feelings - or perhaps intrusive thoughts is the better term. Worries about how you looked, how the guests were feeling, but most importantly worries about the future occupied your headspace.

He did his best to comfort you in his own way. Pre-marriage jitters are completely normal, and there was nothing he'd do to ease your nerves, wedding at hand or not.

"Actually... there's something I want to ask you. Before everything, you know, gets set in place..."

From that it was his turn to get nervous. He had an inkling as to what you were going to ask, and he wasn't sure if was ready to handle where this was going. He held his breath as each syllable escaped your lips.

"D-did you really... did you really never-"

"It seems they're looking for you, Y/N."

No, he was not ready. He couldn't be honest to you right now. How could you ask him now of all times? But at least he did not lie with his 'excuse' - you did have to leave soon and head to the wedding.

Without a hitch, everything went as planned. You walked down the aisle with all your loveliness, took the hand of the love of your life, and exchanged vows with him. Everything went so smoothly Fukuzawa nearly forgot about your earlier conversation.

It was during your dance with your now husband that he remembered everything. He silently watched the way your skirt flowed with every gentle step you took. Would he ever have been lucky to have danced with you like this had he been honest earlier?

Perhaps. But at this point, should he even think about that? He wished for nothing more than a peaceful married life for you, and disturbing that with a belated confession would do no good. That's why he dodged your question - not that he was worried your relationship with him would strain somehow.

Well, it's not like you actually asked him the question about that. He just assumed that's where it would go. And he's just assuming that you too had feelings for him that never went anywhere because of his own cowardice.

Agh. Maybe he should have waited for you to finish speaking. That way he'd never be left with unanswered questions and that he could have the closure he needed.

The night ended with neither of you bringing up what happened in the dressing room. You'd never bring it up in the future either, and in a way spared Fukuzawa half the pain. Seeing you happy, albeit with another man, was more than enough to satisfy his aching heart.

Francis Scott Fitzgerald

You two were quite young when he fell madly in love with you. But unlike youth, Francis was convinced his love for you would never go away. You didn't seem to agree, however.

Time can be cruel. He'd been working his ass off just to make a future with you possible - not just so that he could live another day, but also so that he could provide the future you wanted. So why? Why didn't you wait for him to come back?

In a way, he blames you for it. You could've been at least a little more patient. He never lied to you when he said he's been spending most of his waking time at work, or that not for a second did he forget why he was working so hard to begin with: to be with you and only you.

Yet for the most part, he blames himself. Had he been more efficient, he would've earned more and been able to return to your arms. Perhaps he could have gone down a different route that would've made him financially secure faster. Maybe you also felt unloved as he had little time for you - had he addressed your emotional needs better perhaps this story would have a different ending.

No. The story had yet to end. You loved him the way he loved you, right? You didn't lie to him, did you? So he still had a chance before you finally tied the knot - all he had to do was make it in time.

He'd raise an objection at the marriage. You'd suddenly snap your head to the source of the voice and meet his eyes, then you'd run into his arms and envelope him in your loving embrace, asking him why he only came back for you now. "I missed you so much," you'd say as he'd sweetly kiss your forehead like he did so many times in the past.

But he didn't make it in time. As he ran to the entrance the ceremony had already finished, and lavishly dressed guests were leaving to make it to the reception. That's alright, he said to himself, maybe he could still convince you if only he could meet you during the reception somehow.

The opportunity never came, however. He followed the trail of guests to the banquet your now husband without doubt had prepared for you. Francis recognized some of your favorite dishes among those being served, and it slowly broke his heart seeing how this new man of yours took good care of you.

He finally saw you seated beside your husband, dolled up perfectly to the role of a rich businessman's wife. He would've wanted to enter the hall and try to approach you, but the guards wouldn't let him take a single step inside.

There was still the end of the reception, right? Just one moment with you was all he needed. Good Lord, please just grant him this one opportunity to talk to you, even if there was no chance of getting back together with you. Francis just had to know - he just needed to talk to you one last time.

You finally left the venue, but there was no opening for him. You couldn't even spare him a glance. It was already hard for him to take one last proper look at you, so imagine how much harder would it be to talk to you again.

He couldn't sleep properly that night. The tears silently flowed down as he gently clutched a picture of yours, pretending that you were right beside him caressing his hand.

Why did everything go wrong? Why did nothing go his way? Was he truly a nobody, even to you, the love of his life?

From then on he vowed to make himself a man worthy enough to stand on your level. Someday he'd be able to speak to you once more, and the time will come when he'd provide you a better life than what even your filthy rich husband could. Someday, you'd learn to love him again.

taglist: @stygianoir, @requiem626k , @irethepotato, @kisara-16reblogs, @thatdazaikin, @dazaee, @menshusband, @celestair, @bloobewy, @renaxnnas, @kunikida-simp, @fyodorisbbg

[lolishdes]

❝Serendipity❞ || Diluc x Reader

✧A/N: Guys I wanted to write about older Reader and older Diluc, can you even blame me? Also, think of this as a palate cleanser after my previous work hehe

Sorry this took a while, the week has been busy and I had to put so much thought for this fic, wanted this to be great for you guys!

✧Warning/s: Smut

✧Synopsis: One night stands were supposed to only last for one night, that's why they're called that! But how is it you find yourself in a tricky situation as you find out that your one night stand happens to be your business partner too! 

✧Word Count: 5.4k words

Minors kindly don't interact!

Oh how you wish the ground would just swallow you whole at this very moment.

There are things you expected for this day to go, that your time in Mondstadt would be a fruitful one or perhaps it would be an utter disappointment. However none of those expectations included seeing the man who just had a one night stand right in front of you and is about to make a business partnership with you! 

“It's a pleasure to see you, Miss Y/N."

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For most of your life as an adult you've spent your time focusing on your business. It was something you were determined to succeed in. Especially being born in the desert, there was only so much opportunity for you out there. So you worked hard for it all,  but such passions have their own sacrifices and setbacks. You have secured yourself financially and you do uphold good relationships with friends and family. However such good relationships are unsuccessful when it comes to your dating life. 

Back then you were dead set in solidifying your business, long hours in the office and sleepless nights. And this not only affected you but also the person you were dating, they said that there seems to be no place for them in your life. So time and time again, lover after lover, they all eventually left. 

After some time you realized that romantic relationships are simply not for you. You suppose it's for the best, this way no one gets hurt but yourself as you sink into that lonely feeling. 

Now that you're in your 40s there have been less people trying to approach you with romantic intent. Maybe it's because society has labeled you as some sort of ‘old hag’, someone who has already reached their ‘expiration date’ or something offensive like that. But that doesn't bother you that much, as you mature you realize that it's best to just enjoy the moment, to have fun one night stands with attractive strangers– so that for at least one night you'll feel the arms of another. 

Currently you are celebrating in Lambad’s Tavern with a few friends as you have just recently successfully launched a new branch in Inazuma City. Quite proud that your spice business has been growing especially fast– and soon it would reach Mondstadt’s lands since you also bagged yourself a potential business partner!

“A toast to our amazing friend, Y/N!” The clinking of glass and loud ‘Cheers’ Can be heard all around the table. You felt shy by their enthusiasm, it was so sweet that they're doing this for you. Kaveh takes a sip of his wine before speaking to you. “Honestly Y/n you're on a roll right now.” You laugh at that. “What's that supposed to mean?” “Oh come on! It's not easy to pull off a place there in Inazuma. They are way too strict with their transactions! And here you are settling one of your branches in Inazuma City no less.”

You playfully rolled your eyes. “You're making it sound like it was easy for me, I can assure you it wasn't. It was kind of a nightmare actually.” you sigh just thinking back at the months you've spent there in Inazuma, getting papers approved and other transactions necessary before you were given the go sign to start building the branch. 

Dehya took a swing of her drink and had a teasing smile on her face. “As if it wasn't obvious already, I will never forget that day you returned to Sumeru with the most god awful eye bags and ran into a pole on your way haha!” Deyha laughed out loud and you could only groan at the memory.

As if the fatigue from work wasn't enough already, the ride home was so rocky with the most atrocious weather to boot that it had your head spinning. Dehya was the first one to meet you once you docked at Port Ormos, she waved a hand at you when she saw your board down the ship. As you waved back at her you excitedly ran to her, you seemed to miss the light pole right in front of you. Dehya will never let you forget that day. 

“Yeah yeah whatever! Gods are you annoying.” Dehya lets out another laugh. After Nilou took a bite of her Samosa she looked at you with slight concern. “But about your health, I hope you did get the proper sleep you needed once you got home” You gave her a reassuring smile. “Of course I did, and anyways It wasn't a total nightmare there in Inazuma. After getting the go sign we went straight to building. There weren't any big problems along the way. Maybe because of a certain architect and his genius consultations and design.” You wink towards Kaveh’s direction. He left out a ‘pfft’ in disbelief by the compliment.

“Uh excuse me, the conversation was not about me, why don't we go back to running into poles or whatever.” Kaveh waved his hand in a dismissive way while taking a sip of his wine. A series of laughs follows and you just sit their mouth open and a hand to your chest, as if wounded by his diversion back to the embarrassing memory. 

By the corner of the tavern a certain gentleman had his eyes on you, his eyes glued to your direction even as the blue haired man in front of him kept yapping about how exquisite the wine was. “ It seems that you've mellowed down, Diluc.” Kaeya teases his brother as Diluc shifts his gaze away from you. “And what is that supposed to mean exactly?”

Kaeya grins towards his brother. “Oh nothing, it's just that you've never openly expressed such interest towards other ladies before. Look at you now, enchanted by her like a moth to a flame~” Kaeya turns behind him and stares at you. You continue to laugh with your friends, never noticing the two gentlemen. 

“Why don't you speak to the lovely lady when you have the chance, yeah? After all, we will be off to Mondstadt by tomorrow evening.”

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By the end of the night you all had your fill of wine and food. As per usual Kaveh drank way past his limit, he even started mumbling gibberish while he walked as if he had two left feet. Nilou and Dehya insisted on being in charge of taking Kaveh back home, saying something in the lines of it was their duty at this point to drag him back to Al Haitham. As you waved goodbye to your friends, with Kaveh in the middle and his hands on both Dehya and Nilou’s shoulders, he lifted his head up and said his goodbye to you, his words slurred. 

You giggled at the sight and watched as they slowly walked away farther from you and the tavern. Once they were completely gone you sighed in contentment and turned behind you where the scenery of the forest was. It was already late at night so the streets weren't full of people anymore, but that's good since all you want right now is to bask in the ambiance. Shops were already closing up, boats docked as they sway lighty to the wind, and the stars seem to shine brighter than usual. 

Back when you were younger you would have never imagined seeing such a beautiful sight, thinking that only the familiar sight of sand would greet you everyday of your life. By the distance you see a couple walking together by the dock, they seem helpless in love, as if too busy in their own worlds to bother with anything else. A twinge of envy rises within you, but you try your best to push it away. After all, who would want that? Haven't you learned your lesson already, that kind of relationship just isn't for you…

“It really is beautiful here, isn't it?” 

Tall, dark, and handsome was not what you expected when you turned your head. The man has the most gorgeous pair of eyes, his tied up hair cascading elegantly down his back, a stubble adorned his face, while his posture held confidence. He looked like he was around your age. His eyes never left the scenery even when you looked at him, you simply smiled politely as you gazed back at the scenery. “Yeah it really is, I love Sumeru especially at this hour.” The wind was slowly picking up, making your hair sway with the wind.

The gentleman turns to you with a pleasant smile, he reaches out his gloved hand towards you. “Diluc, and you are?” ‘Diluc’? Huh, familiarity rings at the name. You reached your hand out as well and shook hands with Diluc. “Y/N, a pleasure to know you're at least not impolite.” You jest at him, he chuckles in response. “Well, I do hope I maintain a good impression.” “Oh? And why is that?” “Well…” He trails off his sentence and brings your hand close to his lips, he gives your hand a light kiss. His red eyes shifted towards you. “Let's say I simply want to enchant this one lady that has caught my eye.” 

Heat starts to slowly creep into your cheeks while a tingling sensation can be felt all throughout your hand, the hand that Diluc so delicately kissed. 

Just then a couple started running past both of you and you immediately removed yourselves from another. You looked away from one another in embarrassment and behind both of you heard the couple passing by. “Come on! The theater is at its high right now, we can't miss it!” “Haha right behind you dear!” as their footsteps and voices faded farther Diluc and you just stood there in silence, a little embarrassed and unsure. 

Just then an idea and just a bit of courage emerged within you. “Say, would you mind accompanying me to Zubayr Theater?” You were a bit hesitant to ask him, but for some reason there was just something pushing you to spend a little more time with Diluc. The red head seems to light this idea and his eyes shine a little. He offers his arm to you, to hook your arm with his. “Shall we?” You are more than happy to take the offer as you wrap your arm with his, the familiar warmth coming back to you again. 

As you both entered Zubayr Theater, you were greeted with colorful lights and laughter all around. Children and elderly alike were dancing and feasting on delicacies. And by the huge stage was a band that was playing all sorts of instruments while they maintained a lively beat that people can dance to. You begin to have a rush of excitement and unbeknownst to you, Diluc can see your eyes sparkling in elation. He directed his hand to the center where the people were dancing. “Would you care for a dance?” You looked at him. “You know Sumeru dances?” “Well, it's only due to a certain dancer that I learned how to conduct these dances. So, shall we?” Without hesitation you nodded enthusiastically and pulled Diluc to dance. 

And he stays true to his word, he dances to the beat of the music and syncs with you perfectly. As he twirls you around you can't help but be a little more charmed by this man, your hands were on one another for many hours as you both laughed heartily. This feeling of excitement and joy towards an individual was one you haven't felt in a while...it felt so foreign, yet not unwelcomed. Usually you'd spend your time like this towards someone you considered as your lover, and yet here you are treating this complete stranger with your guard down. 

After some dancing you enjoyed some snacks at nearby stalls, while eating you both converse a little more, telling some stories any of you may have. You found out that Diluc is from Mondstadt and back in his younger days he used to be in the Knights of Favonious as a Cavalry Captain. And you on the other hand told tales of your childhood back in the desert and some trials you have faced. While speaking you didn't notice the way Diluc would look and listen to you attentively, making sure that while you speak he has his full attention on you. 

There were even stalls nearby with fun games, Diluc was exceptionally good when it came to darts, he was able to hit the target successfully and gave you the prize which is a cute Aranara plushie.

–––––––––

At some point you found yourselves back at the docks of Sumeru City. Both of you sat on the wooden planks while you removed your shoes, dunking your feet in the water. Only the sounds of buzzing from insects can be heard as you and Diluc bask in the comforting silence and the presence of one another. There were smiles on both of your faces, you were playing with the water beneath you, lightly splashing the water around. 

Diluc looked at you tenderly, he thought you looked absolutely beautiful at this moment. The way the wind catches your hair, the lovely smile you wore, and how the moonlight seems to accentuate your features. He is completely captivated by you. It was only you and him at that moment, hearts pounding within in anticipation. 

“About what you said a while ago…” You start as Diluc looks at you. “Which part? I believe I said too many things during our time together.” He chuckles. “About being interested in me, I don't think you should waste anymore energy on me.” “And who said anything about this being a waste of energy?” He was quick to reply back but you only looked down at your hands. You smiled bitterly. “I’m sure there are many beautiful young ladies out there worth your while.” “Well I have the perfect candidate right here.” “I’m not young, Diluc.” 

“But you are beautiful.” 

Words seem to be stuck in your throat after he said that. It was unfair that he was saying all this, making you feel happy and special and for what? The night will only end in one way and after that you'll forget the other even existed. That's how it's always been. But unlike the others they never gave so much of their time to you, to actually get to know more about you…

“And I don't mean beautiful as in your looks only, but also your laugh…” He trails off, his hand inching closer to yours. “...your smile, and most importantly your utmost determination towards a better life despite the odds being against you. I really respect that about you.” He was only an inch away from touching your finger tips when suddenly the wind picked up. 

The night was already cold but the wind made it even colder, you start to rub your shoulders to ease the chilly air. Diluc sees this and starts taking his thick coat off. “Ah, there's no need—” “Please, take it.” You were a bit reluctant but nodded anyways, Diluc proceeded to drape his coat around your shoulder. You held the coat closer to your body, not only do you feel warmer now but the strong scent of the gentleman enters your senses. It felt somewhat comforting for some reason, you can smell hints of oak and vanilla. 

You looked at Diluc and was about to thank him, however words left your mouth when you saw Diluc was already looking right at you. Your faces were practically inches away from one another, noses almost touching. You could feel your heartbeat start to quicken from the anticipation. Diluc observes your face a little more, checking to see if this was okay for you, if in any way there was a reason that he should be falling back right now and apologize– but no, there wasn't. You seem to want him just as much as he wants you. 

Slowly he inches closer to you, the tips of your lips practically feeling the heat already. And as he closes the distance between you two, you finally share a tender kiss. You both close your eyes basking in the warmth of the other's lips. His left hand found itself cupping your cheek, deepening the kiss a little more. Your heart leaps in joy and even though you already had a coat on, you could practically feel the goosebumps all over your body. 

As you both pulled away you were left breathless, you rested your head on his shoulder to catch your breath. You both giggle at this, probably from embarrassment, but mostly due to the butterflies forming in your stomachs. Diluc looks at you softly, but a hint of nervousness was present. 

“Say, would…would you mind accompanying me a little longer tonight?”

–––––––––

The way to Diluc’s room was a bit of a blur, all you remember was how fast you two were walking while his hand was on yours. While walking your hearts kept pounding, the anticipation was tortuous but eventually you both arrived inside. Usually you weren't this…nervous? When it comes to having sex with someone, usually it's all hot and heavy and clothes are dropped in a snap. But this time you were slow as you walked in and shook your shoes off.

Diluc was just behind you as he closed the door. Inside the room most of the lights were turned off, only the dimmed lights of some laps were providing you with light. But that only adds to the atmosphere. You were about to take the coat off your shoulders but Diluc got his hands on it first. Neither of you spoke, but there was no need for that really considering that the heavy tension did all the talking. 

He took the coat off and dropped it on the floor, his hands slowly roam down to your hips, taking in every beautiful curve of your body. While his lips found themselves on your neck, kissing and teasing them oh so gently. It was a little agonizing with the pacing that he had chosen, you were getting hotter by the second.  “Diluc what–” “Shh let me take care of you, please?” His voice was low yet tender, you could only nod and let him do what he wanted. 

After he is done teasing he leads you to the bedroom, gently dragging you to the soft sheets of the bed. He entered the room first and sat on the bed, his legs spread a little wider while you stood up and looked down at him. He smiles and pats his thighs, asking for you to take a seat. “Come here, darling.” You compiled and sat on him while facing him.

Despite the lack of light, the moonlight creeping through the curtains does well to highlight Diluc’s features. He had a few wrinkles under his eyes, showing his age. Your hands land on Diluc’s face to swipe away some strands of hair away from his face, while you're doing this Diluc just observes you, enjoying the fact that you're taking in every detail of his face. 

“Hmm is there something you're trying to find on my face?” He chuckles when you slowly back off from his face. “It's just that… you're really attractive.” You start removing your top, unbuttoning the buttons before dropping it on the floor, leaving you only with your bra. “You think so? I can say the same thing about you, especially…” He grabs a hold of your thighs and puts you down on the bed. “When youre right here in my arms~” Diluc smirks above you and adjusts your legs, keeping them at each side of his hips.

You grind yourself on him, you can feel some hardness down there. Diluc lets out a groan and proceeds to kiss down to your almost bare chest. He unclasps your bra to suckle on your nipples, he teases one of them with his lips while the other is being pinched and rubbed. You pant as a response and grab onto his hair, this made Diluc groan, he seems to enjoy his hair being touched. 

He then travels down your body, the tip of his nose slides lower while you can feel his hot breath on your skin. He stops just above your hips, you were about to unzip your shorts, however Diluc stops you before you could sit up.

“I insist.” He says in a deep voice as he bites the zipper between his teeth and zips it down, he then completely removes your shorts off you to reveal your panties. Without a care he discards it on the floor before diving in to press his nose on your puffy pussy lips. He can feel your wetness even through the thin fabric. You can feel his hot breath and the stimulation of his nose, you whine out. “Luc, stop teasing.” He hums at your complaint, the vibrations of his voice stimulating you more. He hooks your panties and removes them to expose your pretty pussy.

It wasn't quite wet yet and Diluc is still left unsatisfied. But that's alright, he simply dived down and started eating you out like a starved man. At first he starts licking you, making sure to tease and prod every part that his tongue can reach, then after that he begins to suck on your clit, earning a whine out of you. His hands grip both your thighs, making sure that they spread wide since you end up unconsciously closing your legs.

Your moans and whines are delicious, your hands are on his hair and fisting him, holding on for dear support from the delirious pleasure. Just seeing the way you feel good makes his cock hard, yet despite the unattended hard on between his legs he does not touch himself just yet. How could he? He's way too busy pleasuring you to even think of himself. He needs to see and hear more of you.

The pleasure only increases from there when you feel a finger enter you. “Oh archons Diluc!” Your back arched a bit from the sudden intrusion. Diluc kept going with both his mouth and fingers teasing your cunny. If that wasn't already enough You could hear Diluc groaning and moaning from below, he seems to be hot and bothered just like you. "That's enough Luc, come here, please…” And who was he to deny you really? 

He starts removing his own clothes, when he was left with only his boxers you could see the form of his cock. He starts pumping himself but then you sit up. “Wait, let me.” Diluc looks at you but compiles anyways, he removes his hand from his cock. You start spitting and licking your hand, making sure to put as much saliva as you can and start stroking him, as you do this Diluc’s breath hitches. With your free hand you cup it on his cheek and share a kiss with him, you could hear him softly moaning and groaning. 

With you stroking his cock and your luscious lips devouring him he can't help but feel oh so hot and bothered. He even believes that he could cum right here right now if you don't stop any moment from now. He pulls away first and rests his forehead with your, he was panting with his eyes closed. “Okay stop, any more and I just might cum–” He was interrupted when you pushed him down on the bed, with you straddling above him. Your hand travels down his beautiful body, your nails dragging down on his skin.

“Let me return the favor, yeah?”

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Usually after such a passionate night you would immediately leave early in the morning, to forget their faces and move on with life…However this time it's different, you can't help but look back at that one special night with Diluc. The sex was amazing of course, but was it wrong to have felt that it was more than just sex? Your head gets all scrambled up just thinking about the situation too much. It's been two weeks since then, you won't see him face any longer thus such an individual is out of your life. All that matters now is to meet and hopefully score a partnership with this wine tycoon from Mondstadt. 

“It's a pleasure to see you, Miss Y/N.” The redhead said before you, his eyes were cold and his form was towering over you. Beside you was the Cavalry Captain, the one that told you all about this partnership. “I’m so happy that you could come, Miss Y/N. This is the renowned Diluc Ragnvindr, owner of the Dawn Winery. He has anticipated your arrival!” 

You pray to any god out there that hears you to save you from this dreadful situation. You hesitantly reach out your hand towards Diluc, nervousness was evident on your face. “Mr. Ragnvindr a pleasure to meet you as well.” Diluc's eye didn’t leave you even as he shook hands with you. And although you want the ground to just swallow you whole right now, there's a sense of…happiness? Lighting up within you as felt Diluc’s touch. 

“Now, since the introductions are finished, my job here is done. I have more work to do back at headquarters, may the wind lead you to a prosperous partnership.” Oh gods no, please Kaeya stay! As the man walks away from you two, you're left alone with the Wine Tycoon. You swallowed the small bit of dread within you and acted accordingly, to pretend as if you've never met before, yeah! You're sure Diluc would do the same.

“Well then Mr. Ragnvindr shall we go straight to business?” “Ah yes of course, Miss Y/N. Kindly follow me.” Relief washes over you, this day should go smoothly. Just then Diluc offers you his arm. “Why don't we walk through these Grape Vines as we discuss, yes?” You looked down at his arm. “I would love that, however I can't possibly–” Suddenly he comes closer to your ear, the invisible barrier you had gone. He whispers “I insist.”

A chill runs down your spine. The memories of him between your legs flashes in your mind and your cheeks burn in embarrassment. You hesitate as you hook your arm with his, slowly you two walk along the beautifully grown grape vines. 

The fruits were lucious and some even ready for harvesting already, you look at your surroundings in amazement. For a brief moment you were distracted, Diluc was too as he watched your reaction. “Wow, I've never seen grape vines like these, they never looked so healthy and succulent!” Your hand touches a couple of grapes, inspecting its quality.

“Dawn Winery provides only the best quality for its customers.” Diluc responds right away, he too inspects the grapes around him, proud that he has amazed you, and to at least ease off your nervousness away. The last thing he wants is that look of uncomfortableness on your face  and to have your eye practically screaming for help. 

“Why?”

Both of you come to an abrupt stop. His eyes were looking at yours, a look of frustration and hurt mixed in his eyes. “Diluc I–” “I was worried about you.” You paused and looked down at your feet. Diluc looks at you and sighs. “I apologize, I just…the day you left, you didn't just leave my side but you also left with my heart.” Your heart beats faster hearing that. “I know we never discussed meeting each other in the near future, but I thought my intention towards you was clear. Not only that but how would I have known if you were alright? Did I hurt you anywhere or if you were okay mentally? ”

Your hand forms a fist as you clenched down hard. “You didn't have to worry all that, what we had was a simple one night stand Diluc.” “Was it really just that?” “Yes, it was. We left that room satisfied and that's all that matters.” “That's bullshit and you know it.” “It's not, and anyways why are we talking about this? None of this matters!” 

“Well it does to me!” You avoid his gaze, you can't look at them , you just can't. Because deep down you know that once you look back at his eyes you'll fall right back at this stupid spell he somehow put upon you.

“Look at me please.” When you looked as if you were not budging he steps closer to you, his gloved hand approaches your face as his index finger drags along your cheek tenderly. In a whisper he speaks. “Please look at me, darling.” He sounds so gentle, as if pleading for your attention.

You decide to give in, you can't just not look at him, right? After he asked so nicely too…but at the same time damn him for asking with that soft voice of his. You slowly tilt your head upwards and are met with that gentle smile of his, the same one he gave you before sharing your first kiss under the moonlight. 

“There she is.” You were left breathless as he rested his forehead on yours. Both of you closed your eyes , soaking in each other's presence, after weeks of not seeing each other, desperate for touch. “Gods I miss you so much and you don't know it…” Your heart gets a little wounded hearing that, he sounds so hurt…

“I'm so sorry ‘Luc.” Your hands found themselves on both sides of Diluc’s face, your thumbs rubbed on him in comfort. “I didn't mean to hurt you, truly. I was just unsure and…afraid? I can't quite understand myself, but all I know is that I don't want to be hurt anymore ‘Luc. Heh kind of ironic isn't it?” Diluc furrowed his eyebrows at that. “Well I’m not here to hurt you, please give me a chance…give us a chance.” His hands rest comfortably on your waists, but this just gives more proof on how compatible you two are. It just felt so right that he's here. 

You sigh before you smile back at Diluc and pounce toward him, you land your lips on his happily. This came as a surprise for Diluc, but it was a surprise  most welcome. He sighs from the kiss and wraps his arms on your waists tighter, keeping you as close as he can. 

–––––––––

“You know, I knew we would see each other again.” Diluc said as you both walked while holding hands. “Oh?...Wait, don't tell me you knew me from the start?” “What no! Honestly I didn't anticipate sleeping with a potential supplier and business partner haha!” Diluc laughs softly, the last thing he wanted was a sticky situation, and yet here he is. “Okay so how did you know about me?” “After you left that night, I tried finding you around Sumeru City and I had to find you fast since hours later I would need to leave and head back to Mondstadt.” 

You looked at him, tilting your head. “And? Did you find me..?” “Sadly no, however I did have your name investigated as soon as I settled down here.” You slapped Diluc’s shoulder playfully. “Ew you investigated me? Creep.” You laugh as he looks at you, as if offended. “Well excuse me that I couldn't find you, my mystery girl just suddenly disappeared without a trace after spending the most wonderful night with me!” “Okay you sap, what happened next?” Diluc simply smiles as he continues. 

“I brought it up to Kaeya and that bastard simply grinned, he told me that your business was the perfect candidate he deemed worthy for Dawn Winery. I never anticipated he chose you as Dawn Windery’s supplier, after all there were so many in Sumeru and not only that but Kaeya never revealed to me your name early on, he said to just trust his choices and forced me to drink with him…” 

“Huh a sly one that one is…but perhaps we should thank him?” “Perhaps, but first..” Diluc suddenly picks you up and carries you with both his arms. “We have some unfinished business, why don't we head inside Miss Y/N, hm?” 

©All content belongs to lolishdes 2023. Please refrain from reposting (reblogs are appreciated !).

[hunny-beann]

Hi! I love love love your first fic and your portrayal of dream!

Could I request two prompts from your hurt/comfort prompts? Specifically number 11 and number 52?

No Greater Patience

Dream of the Endless x f!Reader

Note: Hi anon! tysm for the request, I hope you enjoy the fic!

synopsis:

Prior to his century long captivity, Morpheus and his wife have an argument so disastrous that even after regaining his freedom over one hundred years later, he still questions whether or not he has the right to seek her out.

And yet, the yearning of an Endless is not so easily ignored by the mind, and he soon finds that regardless of his conscious thoughts, all roads lead back to her.

To you.

Prompts:

(hurt/comfort list here)

#11: Please don’t go. #52: I kept this for you while you were away // It’s been two years // I know

Warnings: A once unhappy marriage(?), is Dream himself a warning? Because he still should be.

Word Count: 4,014

Having the opportunity to visit with Death again had been nice.

Far nicer in fact, than the Lord of Dreams would ever willingly admit aloud.

She had always understood him in a way that none of his other siblings ever seemed to manage, and she was far too aware of his flaws and his past to allow him to continue his typical path of avoidance without a bit of a challenge.

Of course, there had been many a time where that had been less than ideal, particularly when Dream had little interest in dealing with those things, big and large, that always seemed to haunt him so.

Still, it was nice to be reminded of the topics and people that he had neglected to consider throughout his time held captive, like Hob Gadling for example, who Dream was now almost eagerly planning to visit at his earliest convenience.

And perhaps he would have headed off sooner, had it not been for Death's one lingering question regarding her brother's personal relationships...

"Dream?"

She had asked just after he had stepped away upon making his intentions of setting off to visit Hob clear.

Slowly, hesitantly, the individual in question turned to face his sister in response, one brow cocked in question to make up for his persistent silence.

Death sighed a bit, almost looking a little unsure before she finally continued upon realizing how little time she truly had for this particular conversation.

She had a rather important deadline to make, after all.

"Have you seen her?"

She asked gently, a sort of pity in her gaze that immediately made the being standing in front of her bristle in response, forcing down the slowly increasing feeling of anger within him as he closed his eyes and took a single deep breath before opening them once more to find her still standing there, waiting.

He shook his head.

"No. Our last conversation was... less than amicable, and was several weeks prior to my disappearance."

Death took a few steps closer, and placed a hand upon Dream's shoulder, watching him fight off the urge to step away, clearly trying his best not to end their interaction on a negative note.

"Then maybe you should consider seeing her as well. Last we spoke she wanted to ask about you, I could feel it, I just didn't want to push-"

"Sister."

Dream interrupted her, his voice not unkind, but still rather stern, at least as much so as politeness would allow.

"She made it quite clear during our last conversation how little interest she had in seeing me again. I would not think it appropriate for me to seek her out in spite of that."

Death sighed, but removed her hand from her brother's shoulder, watching as he nodded toward her in farewell before beginning to move away once more.

Still, no matter how gently she had attempted to address the tense topic, Death was still an older sister, and how could she possibly call herself by such a title if she didn't do some teasing from time to time?

"You cannot avoid the wife forever, dear brother! Do not forget, you are bound to her until I come to collect!"

Dream rolled his eyes, and though Death could not see that particular movement, she could see the way that his shoulders shifted slightly as he chuckled to himself, his head shaking from side to side as he walked off to attend to his own personal duties.

Except several hours and a visit with Hob later, he found that he could do no such thing, as his mind was far too wrapped up with thoughts of his wife.

Thoughts of you.

He had always loved you after all, hadn't he?

You, a deity worshiped into existence by humans, meant to embody nourishment and nurturing, as that found in the relationship between a mother and child, or an owner and their pet.

You were unending and fierce loyalty, the fire in the pit of the stomach, and the gentle hand clutching that of a child during an afternoon walk in the woods, setting them on the right path while never disallowing an opportunity for adventure.

You were beautiful.

And so very deserving of a type of love that Dream had simply been unable to give you.

Sure, he had always been polite, and at times even kind, but considerate was not an adjective that any would have used to describe him, nor his relationship that he shared with you.

Still, you had found it within yourself to love him anyway.

He was cold, calculating, blunt, quiet, and scrutinizing. Dream saw all, every flaw and every weakness, and though it was a rarity that he would point them out aloud without prompting, it was difficult to know just how much he truly saw whenever he looked at you.

That said, none of that had ever seemed to bother you beyond what you could manage.

You enjoyed his company, particularly back when the Dreaming had been slightly less complex, and he had been able to provide you with conversations and time, both things that he would eventually cease to have very much of as the waking world began to shift and change, thus requiring the evolution of the Dreaming as well.

More people meant more dreaming, and more dreaming meant more of the Dream Lord's attention.

And what he had neglected to realize at the time, was that you were the very first thing to lose his affections, his thoughts, and his actions.

It was as if you had always been expendable without ever truly knowing it until he was long gone, a slight indent in the bed that was only ever filled after you went to sleep and before you woke up, leaving you the possessor of both of your rings as day after day he forgot his on the bedside table until it was nothing more than a habit long forgotten.

Where you had once been the love of The Dream Lord, it now appeared that you were his wife in name and nothing more, and though it stung, you had stuck to your duties for far longer than Dream ever would have allowed you to now.

You had always deserved better, even before the being had shifted his attention's elsewhere, and even if he had not known that then, he could so clearly understand it now.

You had never given up on him, not even when nearly all of your interactions seemed to end in dismissals on his part, or arguments due to his seemingly constant exasperation in general. You wanted your husband back, but he wanted to be the Dream Lord far more than he ever wanted to be a husband at that time.

And maybe he had felt that way, sure, but he never should have said it, at least not in the way that he did.

Because he had seen the way that your face fell and your eyes grew teary. Of course he had, he saw all.

But in spite of that fact, he did not go after you when you rushed off to be alone for the one thousandth time.

And the next time that he saw you, you had approached him at his throne in the evening, and quietly, meekly, in a voice he had never heard you use before, asked for a divorce.

You had looked defeated in a way that Dream had found himself surprised by, eyes shadowed, gaze cast downward, and skin slightly paler than usual in spite of how impossible it would be for you to have taken ill due to your godly status.

And any husband, or at least any good one, would have asked you what was wrong, or what had driven you to wanting to leave so suddenly.

But Dream had not been a good husband, so he had simply grown frustrated with you.

He had accused you of being attention seeking for your "childish behaviors", called your attempts at appealing to his emotions laughable, and had all but sneered in the face of your desires.

You were, after all, the Lady of Dreams, everyone knew you as such, and the idea that you could abandon such a title? It was nearly as unthinkable as him leaving his.

His creations, nightmares and dreams alike, adored you, his siblings, (or rather those of whom that cared), seemed to enjoy or at least tolerate your presence when necessary, and most importantly of all, the Dream Lord could not imagine a world within which you were no longer his wife.

It had been centuries since your marriage, and over a thousand years of knowing you prior to that, after all.

It was almost as if he thought of you as his after all of the time of you living within his shadow as nothing more than a figurehead, the wife of a powerful being who was seldom paid any attention to by the very "man" that she had married.

But to Dream's surprise, if your actions had been for attention, you were all too keen on taking things even further, because when he made these accusations in his usual uncaring and borderline insulting tone, you had shouted at him for the very first time that he could recollect.

"It hurts!"

You had cried, eyes brimming with unexpected tears of both anger and sadness,

"It hurts to know that you see me each day without ever truly seeing me, that you call me your wife while scarcely knowing who I am anymore. If me donning the title of Lady of Dreams is so important to you Lord Morpheus, then fine, call me what you will, but know that I do not consider myself your spouse anymore, and have no intentions of staying here in this suffocating realm with you any longer."

And with that, you had gone, and The Lord of Dreams had not seen you since.

Though he had thought about you plenty, as unwilling as he was to admit it.

Your words had gotten to him, though most primarily when he had been trapped for so very long, forced to consider his past actions and mull over all that he had endured throughout the passage of time in spite of how little it was meant to impact him.

You were his wife still, sure, but now only in name, and over a century had passed since he had last heard your voice or seen your face.

Were you still worshiped as you had once been? Did his nightmares and his dreams know where you were? Had you thought of him or thought to visit the Dreaming in his absence? Had you even known that he had vanished in the manner that he did?

All of these questions coursed through his mind, and thoughtlessly, without even realizing it, he brought himself back to where he subconsciously knew that you would be.

Your home.

Nestled deep within the woods of the waking world, in a rural town within a country rather sparsely inhabited, you still resided, unsurprisingly, to this day, and as Dream approached your door for the first time in centuries, he stopped himself before he could raise a fist to knock on the sturdy old wood.

What was he doing here, bothering you after so very long of giving you the space that you so desired?

Had he not made a promise to himself that he would leave you be now that he understood all that he had done to you? All that he had deprived you of by trapping a being such as yourself in a marriage as loveless as yours had been?

At that line of internal questioning, Dream sighed, and turned to leave, only to hear the door swing open behind him just as he did so, a gasp filling the air behind his back before he quickly spun to face the source of the sound.

There you were, a giggling and bouncing baby at your hip, with a bottle in your hand, staring at the personification of dreams with eyes that were beginning to brim ever so slightly with tears.

"Please, don't go."

You whispered, causing the Dream Lord's eyes to widen ever so slightly,

"I need to talk to you."

And much to his surprise, Dream was quick to oblige, stepping into your abode in only a few simple strides, taking in the familiar yet so very changed space and atmosphere found within the walls of your home.

This was where he had met you well over a thousand years ago by happenstance, though he knew all too well deep down that all things happened for a reason, and that his meeting with you had been preordained by his eldest sibling and the stars long before the humans that had created you had even existed.

It was peaceful here, in the deeper woods with you, in your fire-heated home so hidden from view.

Or maybe, it was you who brought on that familiar peace, you who made his physical form relax in spite of how tireless it was meant to be.

He did not linger on such a thought for very long, for fear of what he might come to realize.

"You look well."

He said almost timidly, eyes cast downward and body language tense as he tried not to consider how similarly you looked even still to the last time that he'd seen you.

Beautiful, as always.

You sighed in response, wrestling a lightly chiming metal pendant out of the hand of the child in your grasp before tucking it into your shirt and away from view.

"With all due respect, my lord, I have absolutely no interest in small talk."

You said quietly, watching as Dream raised his gaze to look at you once more, eyes following intently as you shifted the child at your hip slightly, eyes still not entirely rid of the tears that had so clearly threatened to fall upon the sight of him.

"You disappeared."

You stated in a whisper, sounding almost defeated even as Dream nodded in reply,

"I did."

He said.

You sighed again, and looked down at the child, gaze softening slightly as you raised the prepared bottle to it's lips, watching as it started to suckle with delight, chubby limbs wiggling within your grasp, though you notably did not falter.

You never did, you were far too good with children, a fact that Dream had always felt unsettled by.

He was discernibly not a family man, particularly back when he had married you, and the idea that you were meant for something outside of what he could comfortably provide you with...

"And now you're back."

You said matter of factly, using that same tone as before as the being in front of you was snapped out of his reverie at the familiar sound of your voice, his reaction instantaneous.

"I am."

He said simply, watching as you looked up at him once more, tears spilling slightly in a way that for a moment, caused him to freeze up entirely.

You had never been one for crying, not even throughout the many years where he had harmed you through his lack of attention and desire. What could it have been, here and now that would bring you to such tears upon his simple words?

He moved after a moment, almost instinctively, to stand before you, some longing once believed to be long lost within him bubbling to the surface as he raised both hands to your face, cupping your cheeks in order to wipe your tears away with almost trembling thumbs that had nearly forgotten the once worshiped feeling of your skin beneath their pads.

You sighed shakily, looking him in the eyes for one of the very first times that day as you shook your head slightly,

"How could you do such a thing to me, Dream? How could you vanish so entirely without a word to me or anyone that you knew would be worried for you? How could you turn up here so casually and think to turn away and leave without letting me see the realness of you for myself?"

The Lord of Dreams looked down at you with sadness in his eyes, and moved to shake his own head in response, his hands still soft and warm against your skin.

Alive.

"I did not choose to leave, my dear."

He all but murmured, the familiar nickname he had once used for you finding his lips as naturally as water did a spring,

"And I did not think you desired to see me again after our last interaction. Coming here, it was not something I thought to do. I simply did."

You gazed up at him incredulously still stuck on that first part of his statement,

"What do you mean you did not choose to leave, Morpheus?"

You whispered, horror seeping into your tone as the being in front of you faltered, before finally speaking, shame present in every word that he spoke.

"I was captured by a human, and held against my will for over a century. My freedom, as it stands currently, is new. I did not choose to leave and stay away from my duties, I assure you."

You let out a choked and humorless sounding laugh, shaking your head even further,

"And what you consider upon your exit from such a hell is not of who you want to see, but who may wish to see you? Where has my selfish King of Dream's gone?"

You asked, voice slight and smile lopsided as Morpheus sighed and thoughtlessly traced the curves of your lips with his thumb, finding much to his surprise that the shape remained familiar even to this day.

"I was not fair to you, dear wife, not for a very long time. If nothing else, I wanted to know that I had at least respected your wishes for space, though even that may have been self serving."

You adjusted the child on your hip, before you raised your hand up to your husband's, ignoring the slight way that he shivered beneath your touch.

"Whatever do you mean, King of Dreams?"

You whispered, watching as Morpheus gave a humorless sounding chuckle of his own.

"I mean that even today, I could not bear to call you anything besides my wife. I mean that by avoiding you entirely, and calling that your wish, I am able to ignore the fact that I am still not strong enough to give you the end to our union that you so justly requested. I do not wish to lose you in that way, even if I have lost you in all others."

You hummed softly in response, smile growing gently as you removed his hand from your face, giving him a glance that had him dropping the other to his side before you guided him to your sofa, where you sat the two of you down, you with a child upon your lap, and him with nothing but his most bare self, vulnerable in a way he had not felt since he had been so plainly naked behind glass for what had felt like all of man to see.

Seeking out a distraction, Dream looked down toward the child sitting upon your lap, before moving his gaze back up to yours again.

"The child..."

He began, and immediately, you shook your head,

"He is not mine. I found him roaming the woods a few days back, and have yet to find his mother, even after stopping by the nearest town. I'm hoping to hear word of someone searching for him soon."

You said casually, watching with gleaming eyes as the child took your finger and clasped it within his chubby little fist, his grin revealing his few teeth, just barely poking out from beneath his gums.

Dream could not help but smile softly along with him, though his was merely a shadow compared to that of the child sitting atop your legs.

"I see..."

He replied, and you gazed toward him with noted amusement,

"Were you worried that I had stepped outside of our marriage, Lord Morpheus?"

You teased, watching as the man in front of you rolled his eyes before responding.

"No, I was more hoping than anything else. If you had moved on, then I might find it easier now to do the same."

You looked up at him upon hearing those words, before reaching down to place the small child on the floor in front of you with a sigh, thus allowing you to better face the being sitting at your side.

"And why is it that you are so eager to move past me, dear husband?"

You watched as Dream cast his gaze downward, eyes trained on the child playing nearby in spite of the fact that you could tell his mind was far away indeed, off somewhere that you could not follow, deeply considering every event he'd ever endured in search of an answer to your question.

How nice it must have been, to be so knowledgeable.

"If I were to move past you, wife, then I might finally be able to let you go, and if I managed to do such a thing, it would be far more feasible that you could truly hope to be rid of me someday."

You sighed, and reached for the hands of the individual that you had once known so well, and perhaps even did still, causing him to look up at you in surprise at the sudden contact.

"And if I do not want to be rid of you, dear Morpheus? If I said that after a century I have found it within myself to forgive you for the husband you once were in favor of learning what husband you could be now?"

You watched as the being sitting in front of you stared for a moment, as if in complete and utter disbelief, before he slowly began shaking his head, the corner of his lips raising ever so slightly as he leaned in to press his forehead against your own,

"Then I would say that I have known no greater patience than that of my dear wife."

He murmured, causing you to laugh quietly with a subtle roll of your eyes before you reached upward, pulling a pendant on a chain out from where it had been hidden beneath the collar of your shirt.

Dream watched curiously, not entirely sure of what you were doing, until suddenly you yanked at the chain with such force that it snapped in the back, causing either end of it to come tumbling forward into your palm.

Dream raised a brow in response to your actions, but remained silent, seeing in your eyes that you were all too eager to explain, the glint there unsubtle in a way that he was immensely familiar with.

"I kept this for you while you were away"

You stated casually as you pulled one of two clinking pieces of metal off of the chain, revealing to Dream a sight he had never anticipated having the privilege of viewing again.

There, between two of your fingertips and presented to him with such normalcy, was his wedding ring, and he could see from the subtle glint still remaining in your palm that the other metal piece on the chain had been yours.

He stared in shock, reaching for the familiar symbol of his union to you in utter disbelief, even as the coolness of it's structure wrapped itself around his ring finger as he took it and slid it on to its rightful place upon his hand.

"It’s been more than a century..."

He murmured, his tone betraying his surprise in spite of how little emotion he typically showed, even in vulnerable moments like this one.

You smiled at him, shrugging slightly as you slid your own ring onto your finger again, sighing as if having arrived home after a long day of work,

"I know."

[wheresmymilliondollarman]

THE AARON WARNER X READER FIC OMLLLLLLLL I NEED PT. 2 PLEASEEE

aaron warner x ferrars!reader pt. 2

aaron warner continues to make way into your life, and it's only a matter of time before you grow fond of him too.

(taken place during unravel me)

continuation of the hcs from this piece!

a/n: hey y'all.... the long awaited pt 2 is finally here. so sorry for the wait, but i had some major writer's block with this at first, and tbh life has been a lil hectic rn with classes n stuff, so thank you for all the love and support on the first headcannons, and thank you for being patient with me! i truly cant express enough how happy i get when you guys compliment my work <3 as usual, hayden is my personal fc, imagine who you like !

side note: i know reader might seem kind of useless at times even tho she has powers, but it's because she doesn't have a full control of her ability yet, still learning how far it goes, and she doesn't have much practice on defensive uses of it, since a lot of her training is about learning about her powers. hope that makes sense LOL. some big events are going to be briefed over bc i didnt wanna bore y’all with stuff you alr read in the book and wanna focus on warner & reader interactions👍

word count: 8.2k

warnings: some plot changes, vague taylor swift reference, mentions of injuries and blood, some violence

after receiving the note, you immediately crumped it and stuffed it into a random drawer with your clothing. you hadn't told a soul about the message, you feared it would only make the implication of meeting warner again true.

thinking about the note was a pipeline to thinking about aaron warner. thinking about him meant flashing back to the last moment the two of you shared.

his lips on yours, his confessions of his infatuation, and of course, the way your shot him in the chest. you hated how the memory was brung a warm and unfamiliar feeling in your chest, especially thinking back to the kiss.

you told yourself it wasn't a big deal. maybe another member at the base decided to play a prank on you, or perhaps it was just an empty threat. there was no way warner knew your location, so there's no need to tell anyone about the silly note.

but to be extra cautious, you laid off going on missions to the outside for a little bit. plus, it forced juliette to interact with people that weren't you on missions when you weren't there.

you went along with your routine as usual, training with castle and kenji, and hanging out with juliette and adam.

you didn't hate castle by any means, but you find his underlying scrutinization of both you and your sister at times to be bothersome. his constant pushy treatment to juliette never sat right with you either, but since he was the leader of omega point - you knew you had to still show respect for him.

although, you started to notice a strain between the couple recently, mostly from adam's side. there was obviously something he was keeping from juliette.

you comforted your sister to the best of your ability, but you knew not knowing was starting to affect her. kenji also seemed to know whatever this secret was, but was adamant on keeping his lips shut.

however, once castle took adam away in the middle of you guys eating lunch, juliette demanded answers since it was obvious adam himself was struggling to reveal it himself.

this time kenji was helpful and guided you and juliette to the research labs. there you both saw castle engaging adam in some sort of tests, and it sent your sister into a fit of rage, mainly aimed at castle. which then resulted in her angrily punch the ground, causing for a large earthquake that shook the entire establishment.

juliette was passed out for three days before waking up. you worried for her endlessly during those days, it was the one of the only times you intentionally listened for her thoughts, to ensure she was alright, but it was scarily silent. you knew adam also was quite worried for juliette, but castle made sure he kept his distance.

after that, her and adam were on some sort of unofficial break up, and you knew better than to get involved. juliette was also now required to join you and kenji in training, which made for a chaotic, but fun trio.

your powers were getting easier to control, you were working on levitating heavier objects every time. you've practiced mental manipulation on insects and small animals, so you had a gist of to what extent you could control a mind. the most you've done so far was send simple commands like jump, sit, move, etc. kenji always offered to be a test subject for this, but you always declined, not liking the thought of possibly controlling the mind of your friend.

now that you could control when to apprehend thoughts, it made it much easier to make friends without disrespecting people's privacy. while sara and sonya were always kind to you, others had made it sort of clear they wanted to keep their distance to prevent their mind from being read by you. being able to now reassure others that their thoughts weren't being heard made it easier for people to approach you.

much like juliette you found new friends in brendan, with an electric ability, and winston, who had a stretchy ability and also designed the suits for both ferrars.

days at omega point were serene for a bit, everyone following routine and members continuing to patrol areas for any threats of the reestablishment. but it was surely disrupted with the arrival of threatening news.

it was in the middle of the night when you were dragged away from your bed by kenji to castle's office; juliette and adam following suite. he claimed it was an urgent matter that required the presence of the four of you.

there, castle revealed the return of the supreme commander, also known as warner's father - that was big news to you and juliette. it explains how warner was able to be out with his men in the sector so often.

however, news worsened when you found out brendan and winston along with emory and ian were taken by the reestablishment during their patrol. at their missing location was left a note, with specific instructions on how to proceed.

you were shaken by this discovery, it had been only less than 24 hours since you had last spoken with either of them, both you and juliette had had breakfast with brendan and winston.

that wasn't even the end of if, castle instructed that all four of you were to go to this meeting destination.

all of you were taken aback by this, you had initially assumed castle would be the one to see the supreme, since has is the leader and all.

adam and kenji were at the head of the protest against this plan, not wanting to easily comply . both you and juliette remained silent, still taking in all the information given.

you without a doubt were ready to head in for the safety of your friends, but you also didn't like the unpredictability of the situation you all could possibly wander into with the commander.

"the two of you may opt out as you like, but i am requesting the aid of both ferrars, seeing as they are the ones very explicitly instructed to see the supreme - a sort of exchange, them for the hostages. "

again, everyone in the room was stunned with confusion. all having the same question, why would he need both sisters there?

you didn't know the room could've possibly erupted into more chaos than right now. adam was now furious, kenji not too far behind with questions of his own.

you couldn't help but think back to the note you found in your pocket, "see you soon." is this what he had meant? had he known this would occur that long ago?

again, you shook the thought from your mind. aaron warner wasn't the one who sent the order, it was the supreme, so it's possible warner will not even be at the location the four of you are suppose to go to.

no need to think about warner, you told yourself. no need to remember how he kissed you with ferocious passionate intent.

with this newfound knowledge, you knew you couldn't back away from this, not when there were lives at stake, and you didn't have to be familiar with the supreme to know he would not hesitate to take the lives of omega point members.

you looked toward juliette to inquire her thoughts about the situation. you understood from the look on her face that she had a similar plan of action to you. a telepathic (without actually reading her mind this time) message was communicated between both of you, making a mutual agreement.

"we'll do it." you announced over the arguing.

castle was pleased with this decision, but immediately adam objected, and even kenji was hesitant for you both to go through with the plan. however, stubborn as ever, both of you committed to your decision.

preparing for the meeting with warner's father was nerve-racking, worried for the safety of your team, and also the hostages. you and everyone knew this had to be some sort of trap set up by the commander, but there wasn't much you could do besides arm yourself and comply.

the four of you were gathered in castle's office. castle made sure all four of you were equipped with necessary gear for the mission, including having weapons with you.

you attire was the same as usual, a red leather corset-styled top, a matching leather coat-like jacket, black pants in a stretchy material, accompanied with black fingerless gloves and black knee-high boots - except now you had the addition of a harness and holsters up your leg to hold any firearms given to you. the coat did well in concealing a lot of the guns.

luckily, you had a good amount of practice with a gun since the warner incident. you were no james bond, as a man kenji liked to reference, but you had enough skill to defend yourself and others in the face of danger.

"why does warner's father need both sisters?" kenji humorously asked castle, "can't we at least keep one of them, one for the reestablishment and one for omega point."

you scoffed with a grin, entertaining the joke. "i'm sorry, who exactly are you willing to sacrifice to the reestablishment kenji?"

"well, with that attitude i'm starting to lean towards you."

castle goes through the plan once more before having to leave with the rest of omega point. they had to be stationed around building near the meeting point before the four of you arrived.

the time finally arrived for all of you to begin the journey to meeting the commander. since you all were traveling on foot, adam and kenji leading the way, you needed to leave at least an hour before the designated time.

adam was able to successfully turn off his protective shield for kenji to make all of you invisible. it made the journey easier; being able to wander through the land unseen.

after kenji misguided you to the wrong house, you all rushed to get to the correct address, 1542 sycamore. with 50 seconds of time, you all arrived.

juliette made the quick decision to tell kenji and adam to stay hidden, that it was better if warner's dad thought we were alone. in the case of an emergency, they could jump in.

kenji and adam gave a few last words of reassurance, before turning back invisible. then, you and juliette stood in front of the door of meeting house, holding hands before entering the house.

warner's dad did the job of opening the door for you both, inviting you inside even though it was more a of demand, and commenting on your impeccable timing.

once inside, you got a good look at the man. you shouldn't be shocked he was also quite handsome since he is warner's father, but you were still thrown back by his unexpected attractiveness.

unfortunately, you didn't take him his appearance for long before he abruptly & forcefully pushed juliette head against the wall behind her, momentarily knocking her out.

you didn't even get to process the action before you were pushed roughly against the wall, the commanders right forearm holding you down by the throat, while his left hand was disarming you.

almost as if acted on instinct, you pushed him back with a scarlet force, sending him back first onto a nearby table.

you took a second to get react, unsure of what happened, before rushing over to your sister. juliette didn't seem to be bleeding, luckily, but you figured she might have a concussion. much to your surprise, she sat up straighter attempting to act unfazed.

you were roughly yanked away by your wrist and away from juliette. you attempted a second self-defense act, but the commander was first and pulled out his gun, pointing it to your sister.

"try anything else, and i'll shoot her before you could blink."

your silence was a sign of defeat. you stood still as he unarmed you, even taking off your coat for good measure.

he released you finally then went on to do the same to juliette, who was still recovering from the slight blackout she faced from the collision with the wall - he repeated the threat to her, gun pointing in your direction this time.

you swore if you made it out of here alive you were going to learn more defensive uses of your powers to never be in a position like this again.

juliette must've been refocused on the task at hand because she starting asking the commander for the location of the hostages.

you stomach dropped when he disclosed his army is equipped and ready to take down any omega point members who are lingering by.

he went on to elaborate his plan to eliminate the "freaks" that made up the rebellion. but what got your heart beating faster was the mention of warner.

he directs his talk to you, "i admit, your sister, juliette, had piqued my interest quite a bit with her ability and history, i'd never paid much more than a glance in your direction. but what really astounded me, was when my son begged me to spare your life." he smiles, in a terrifying manor, "i just had to meet this girl whose bewitched him and spelled him into such a lovesick fool."

you felt physically stuck to your place as you listened. you didn't have to look at juliette to know she was also frozen.

'did aaron really do that?'

he turns in your direction, "i have every intention to use you to teach my son a lesson, and that will just have to include your death much to your misfortune. i really do hate to waste a pretty face." you face pales at the mention of your death.

then he faces your sister, who had taken a sudden step in front of you, "but that doesn't mean the older ferrars has to suffer the same fate and couldn't prove to be useful to join me in the capitol."

"i'd rather jump off a very steep cliff, thanks."

you wanted to laugh at your sister's retort, but you couldn't help but worry that he'd kill her for her denial. you'd rather be the sole target of his persecution than drag your sister down into it as well.

you reminded yourself adam and kenji were still around, they would surely arrive in time before either of you could be dead. you hoped.

the commander, however, does laugh at your sister's rejection, "a stubborn one you are."

"son, would you come in here, please?"

your eyes widen, warner was here this whole time.

you and juliette glanced at the same time, both being shocked at his presence.

when he appears in the doorway, all the memories of the event in his room come back to haunt you.

his face was void of any emotion, but his stare directed intensely toward you.

there was no time for small talk, because warner's father handed him a gun, meant to kill you. he places it in aaron's hand and aiming it to your head, dishing out the command to 'clean up his mess.'

you wouldn't be surprised if he had intentions to shoot you, you quite literally had shot him the last time you'd seen each other.

juliette let out yells of protests, telling warner to put the gun down.

you were preparing ways to defend yourself, mainly involving levitating an object and throwing it at either person with murderous intent toward you. but you weren't sure how you could hide the movement of your hand, and red glow of your eyes, when the attention was all on you.

but you couldn't help solely stare back into aaron's emerald green eyes. you wondered if this would be your last sight before death.

no, you refused to succumb to death like this, you wouldn't give anderson the pleasure.

you stared back into the green eyes, daring him to take a shot. this could be really courageous or terribly stupid.

then in the next instant, the gun had a new target, his father.

his father didn't look too fazed, confident that his son wouldn't shoot him, even patronizing him for it.

you didn't wait to find out if he would go through with it because now that the attention shifted, you could execute your plan of action.

the supreme and warner were both knocked down by the large heavy table being thrown at them. granted, aaron wasn't your target, but it didn't hurt to knock him down in case he intended to shoot you.

juliette took the opportunity to get the firearms the commander has taken at the beginning, and use the gun to shoot him in the leg. both legs. multiple times.

you were about to reel her back, when kenji appeared out of thin air, literally, and held juliette back from further injuring anderson.

suddenly, you remembered warner was still in the room. you looked around to find him passed out on the ground, a syringe, you guessed kenji used, next to him.

kenji tossed you as roped and told you to bound his arms, so, you knelt down on the floor next to him, carefully shifting him to place the rope.

as you did this, you noticed his features closely, how different he seemed unconscious, at peace. it kind of made him more beautiful.

out of your better judgement, you reached out slowly to touch a lock of his blonde hair, soft.

you immediately pulled your hand away when you thought you felt a stir, but you looked back to his face and he was still unconscious.

maybe, if you had looked a little closer you'd notice the ghost of a small smirk on his lips.

"we're going to take this kid hostage."

you were brought to your current situation with that statement.

"wait, what!" kidnapping wasn't on your to-do list for the day.

however, the most shocking news to be said in this room, was when adam dropped the bomb that the supreme command, warner's father, was his dad - making warner his half brother.

in the midst of all this chaos, omega point had already set off the call to attack, and now were battling against the reestablishment.

there was no time to think about events because kenji was rushing everyone out the door to get back to the safe haven.

the four of you needed to a large distraction so castle could draw back before major disaster since anderson was down and you now had taken warner. juliette promptly stepped up with an idea and create a part two of her earth-shattering ability. - which it turned out working really well because you all were able to make contact with castle.

adam and kenji did the heavy lifting of carrying aaron's heavy body while you and juliette had the task of finding a tank for the four of you to head to omega point in.

once that was settled all of you clambered into the tank, kenji taking the wheel and adam acting as second in command - that left you and juliette in the back with warner.

who was currently to the left of you, slumped against the window side of his seat, and juliette being on your right.

you weren't thrilled to have him smushed next to you. not when you were close enough to smell his cologne and feel the outline of his muscles through his jacket.

a part of you thought he would maybe wake up somewhere during the ride, but his eyes remained close. you know because you were staring at him more than you'd like to admit.

you reminded yourself what he had put you and juliette through, the asylum, the imprisonment, and the tests. it was enough to reel you back in and continue your dislike for warner.

although he was asleep, the bumps on the travel to the underground base made for a lot of jolts of movement and in turn caused warner's body to tumble onto you.

his body was heavy, but somehow it was heavier whenever you had to push him back to his side. it was like a force was trying to keep him on there.

his head somehow always slumped into the hair on the crook of your neck, and at some point, you could've sworn you felt him breathe in through his nose, like a sniff. but you wrote it off as the movement of the vehicle.

you must've passed out at a point because when you opened your eyes, you were lying against warner's shoulder.

your face was a flush of scarlet when you realized your position, but luckily juliette was fast asleep, and the two men were occupied in the front, likely going over today's events. thank god.

not long after, you all arrived at the destination and made it out of the tank.

kenji helped pull you out of the tank, not before leaving a teasing comment.

“have a nice nap, did you?”

you ignored him, but your face went red in embarrassment. he would never let you live this down.

you took a rest for a whole day before interacting with anyone. you weren't sure if you could handle any other sudden revelation without rest, especially if it involved warner.

castle came to you and juliette to discuss further the plan with warner and such. and you were reminded of the fact adam and him were technically brothers, which was kept a secret between all four of you still.

then castle gave you both the most ridiculous task; to be in charge of the questioning and occasionally visiting the prisoner. his reasoning being you both were the most acquainted with warner, and he'd be more willing to comply with at least one of you.

you wanted to decline; you didn't understand why castle always sent everyone else to do work for him - but you knew your sister was happy to finally have a real assignment for omega point; she wanted to be useful.

so the following day, you began your "mission." you sisters went to where they were holding warner, a room much like where you and juliette slept, but the difference was it closely guarded, not letting the person inside leave.

you greeted the guards, and they had looked very relieved to see you there. apparently, warner has been less than pleasant as an inmate - throwing things and demanding to speak with you, and they informed him the two of you would be arriving to calm him down.

you stepped into the room and noticed the lack of furniture, probably because he was throwing, then you saw warner sitting on a mattress on the floor, indulging himself in some sort of journal that you didn't get to get a look at before he put it away.

he looks up at your arrival with a grin, "hello amor, a pleasure to see you again at last." he scanned your attire, "i have to say, this new look on you has you looking rather ravishing."

you rolled your eyes, fighting the butterflies because of his comment. "how you manage to be a prisoner and still keep that stupid charm goes beyond me."

"i did say i'd see you soon didn't i?"

juliette gave you a confused glance, you hadn't told her about the note, nor the kiss.

you ignored what he said, trying redirect the conversation. you glanced down at his chest, "nice to see you've healed from the shot, for a moment, i thought i'd killed you."

"takes a lot more to kill me i'm afraid, however, if it's by your hand i'm more than willing to greet death like an old friend."

before you could bite back, juliette interrupted your banter with a cough, meant to serve a reminder to you to stay on task.

"right, forgot you were here juliette, perhaps you'd like to step out so your sister and could properly reunite."

god, you hated his suaveness. you hated it even more when it worked in making your heartbeat pick up.

juliette took charge of the conversation and started asking questions relevant to the establishment, but warner would either change the subject or give vague answers.

you both decided to leave after growing tired of the lack of information. you ignored warner's pleas for the company and walked out.

the next day you both tried again, meeting in from of his room. juliette, however had decided a change of tactics.

"i think you should go in without me."

you turned to her confused. she explained he would likely be more cooperative with your presence alone, his actions from yesterday proving to be in support of that.

you denied it, even if part of you believed it. you weren't sure you were ready to be in a room alone with aaron.

nonetheless, juliette left you to your own devices and rushed off, probably to find adam or kenji, before you could protest further.

you cursed her, but prepared to enter the room in front of you.

aaron was lying down, resting an arm behind his head and using the other to throw and object up and down. once he noticed you he sat up in your direction.

he noticed the lack of presence of juliette, and you could tell he was more than pleased.

"finally, i was starting to think your sister would chaperone us forever."

"don't be so eager to be alone, i could shoot you again."

"and i'd willingly take another bullet if it meant another kiss."

you couldn't help the annoying pink tint on your face that came up with the mention of the kiss.

you changed topic, "how were you able to send me that note?"

he smirked, "well for one, i noticed you after our eyes met briefly during your first time outside in the sector. after that, it was blatantly obvious who you were; that disguise did nothing to hide your gorgeous face, unfortunately for you. and then it wasn't hard to order a civilian to drop the note in your pocket while you were distracted."

you were stunned; you really hadn't thought to think he recognized you. you thought you blended in pretty well on those missions.

"okay, stop distracting me, what are your father's plans."

"hmm, maybe if you ask nicely and give me a kiss - i'd be more willing to comply."

you left shortly after that, knowing you weren't going to get much out from him.

it continued like that for a few days; you'd walk in, try to get information, but then he'd turn it back into a way to flirt with you or bring up the kiss.

this time when you walked in, you saw him reading the journal from the first day, and you were able get a better look at it. it was yours.

"hey, what are you doing with my-"

"dear diary, today i checked out a book from the library, there was a rather intimate scene between the main charact-"

you immediately recognized the writing as your own and strided across the room to aaron to snatch your journal back.

warner was quicker, standing up in a snap, keeping a distance from you as read aloud more pages.

you yelled at him to stop, catching up to him, but now he held the book to the ceiling, making it harder for you to reach because of his tall body.

you, much to your embarrassment, jumped up and down to reach the journal, wanting this humiliation to end.

"aaron, just give it back!"

all of a sudden, aaron stopped his teasing and looked down to you, a lopsided smile on his face.

"you called me aaron."

you eyes opened in horror, you just called him aaron, not warner. and he heard it.

"no. no. i said warner, you misheard." it was a terrible attempt at lying.

he smiles even wider, his dimples prominent. he reaches a free hands to lift your chin.

"please, keep saying my name, i do love how it sounds coming from you."

you felt you were gonna explode from all the emotions you were feeling, the room was getting hotter, and your heart was pounding in your ears.

you couldn't get a solid sentence our without babbling in embarrassment. so you took the coward's way - bolting out the room, abandoning the mission to retrieve your journal.

you avoided visits a few times after that incident, you were still cringing at the flashbacks, it worsened when you also remembered he had the contents of your journal and all the embarrassing things and darkest secrets you'd written inside.

unfortunately, that didn't stop you from running into warner.

you were eating lunch with kenji, he was currently explaining some princess film you'd never seen.

"wait, so how did this girl even find out when her birthday was?"

"well, obviously, mother gothel told her."

"why didn't she just lie about her birthday, or not even tell her what a birthday is?"

"i don't know, i didn't make the script."

"also does the ending mean she has power still, or was it the last of her ma-"

"oh my god, can you shut up and just appreciate the greatness that is tangled!"

"hey! you're the on-"

"well, isn't this a surprise."

you turned to the new voice that entered the conversation. aaron warner stood in front of your table, hands behind his back, and castle behind him, likely guiding him somewhere.

then you remembered your last conversation with the leader and came to the conclusion aaron was on his way to be tested, probably like adam had.

castle remained unaware of the blood shared between the two, but you did let it slip you were unable to read your mind, and he was able to make skin contact with your sister.

"well if it isn't my favorite ex-boss." kenji spoke with a mouthful of food.

aaron ignored kenji, much to kenji's offense. "amor, here have you been these days, you left quite flushed after our intimate moment in my cell."

kenji spat out his food at that last bit.

you body was filled to the brim with utter embarrassment and hate toward the way he phrased his wording to make it seem what it wasn't.

you turned to kenji who was coughing continuously, "nothing even happened!" you gave warner a glare, "stop making it seem so.. so-"

"so what, amor? i'd love to know what you think i meant by intimate."

"you are so insufferable."

castle then dragged warner along to the testing area. you couldn't deny you weren't curious to find out if he shared a gift similar to adam.

you were planning to engage with warner the next day, but his guards had come up to you during your training session demanding your presence because apparently warner was in a fit of rage.

worried, you rushed over. entering the room, warner was sitting against the wall, face in his hands. the room was in disarray, broken items of what was already so little, scattered all over the room. even his floor mattress had been tossed.

he barely acknowledged you, so you took it upon yourself to kneel down in from of him, silently asking what happened.

"castle..he told me it's possible i have an... ability. he told me i could change," he laughs humorlessly, "that there was potential for me to be.. different... possibly better."

you stayed silent, unsure of how to respond, as he bitterly ranted about his talk with castle.

"what do you think?”

“what?”

“do you believe i can change? i’d love to know what your opinion is on this, amor.”

you weren’t sure how to respond. “i believe… everyone can choose what they want to be. it’s up to them to decide, even if everyone tell tried to tell you who you are.”

this time, he was the one silent, looking down at his lap, likely in thought.

you took the chance to take in his attire; some black sweatpants, grey socks, and no shirt.

you probably would’ve been flustered to see him shirtless if you didn’t notice some peculiar marks peaking from his shoulder.

silently, you slowly crept to the side of aaron, still distracted. you slide far enough to get a good few of his back.

you internally gasped. his back was littered with lines of scarring - likely whipped. your stomach churned at the thought.

you also notice a big tattoo in the upper middle of his back, in all caps ‘IGNITE’.

you must’ve said it out loud because aaron’s head whipped in your direction. he turned his back away from you once he noticed where your stare was directed.

“no need to say anything, i already know how hideous it looks.”

unsure how to respond, you blurt the first thing out of your head - “i think they look cool. kind of like an abstract piece of art.”

yeah, comforting people wasn’t your forte.

luckily, aaron seemed intrigued by your statement. so you took the chance to request something further.

“can i touch your, erm, back?”

aaron was hesitant for a few moments, but then sighed and turns his back toward you.

you delicately pressed your fingers along the canvas of his back. you could feel every ridge and texture of each scar as your fingers glided over.

aaron flinched at first content, then progressively & visibly melted into your touch.

“why ‘ignite’?”

“why not?” you really hated his vagueness.

an idea popped into your head. you pulled a pen out of your jacket pocket, testing it on your own skin a few times before you started drawing lines on aaron’s skin.

“amor, what are you doing?”

“hang on.” he could feel the ink of the pen etched on his back.

“you know, my original plan was to seduce you with my perfect abs, but i guess luring you with my scars works as well.”

“shut up.” but you were smiling while saying it.

you finished connecting a few lines, “there, perfect.”

"i think you've forgotten i dont have the neck of a giraffe to twist around."

"oh, my bad." you said sheepishly. "do you have a mirror?"

"i did, then i broke it. pieces should be in a corner somewhere."

you mentally scolded his carelessness.

you managed to find a piece big enough for him to see your creation upon his skin.

"i drew a star." you wanted to facepalm at how silly it sounded.

star was a bit of a stretch, you connected lines scarred on his bank to form a lopsided and wonky-shaped star.

he just stared at it, not uttering a word. you moved to try to wipe off the mark, but he grabbed your wrist before you could.

"no," he grins, "i adore it. do more of them."

you did. it was a whole galaxy of stars embedded on him.

he stayed mute as he watched you through the shard of mirror while you doodled, but suddenly he spoke and gave you details as to what his knew of his father's plans and the location of brendon & winston.

"why are you suddenly telling me this, why now?"

"it's what your here for, isn't it."

you rushed over to castle immediately and repeated everything aaron told you. he thanked you for the information before he called in others to draw up a plot of attack. you all were to leave immediately the next day.

castle called a meeting in the lunch hall a few hours later; everyone at omega point was gathered there.

he briefed them on the commander's plans or what the plan was supposed to be so far. of course, people were suspicious of this information coming from warner, not trusting him at all; not that you could blame them.

"he's immune to both of the ferrars abilities, he can touch juliette with no issue and y/n can't get into his head. after this reveal, we did some test, and we've come to find out he's gifted like the rest of us."

the room exploded in chaos, gasps, yells, and protests coming from all different directions. a lot of ongoing looks toward your table. castle raised his voice to calm everyone down.

you and juliette didn't stick around long after, for one you already knew the information being given , and two, the stares and questions were getting annoying and uncomfortable.

however, adam shortly followed the two of you out, desperate to speak to juliette, and you knew why - warner being able to touch her.

they began talking intensely as if you weren't there. you watched from the sidelines as juliette explained her side and adam getting more frustrated.

you butted in at a point, you felt bad for the guy, but your sister came first. “adam, maybe it's best you leave to cool down.”

but your voice of reason only irritated him. “how about you stop inserting yourself into your sister’s affairs and let her speak for herself.”

"what is your issue?"

"this is between juliette and i; she doesn't need you speaking for her."

"you hypocrite, that's what you're doing right now!"

"why don't you go fraternize with warner, that's all you seem to be doing these days." adam venomously spat at you.

as if the mention of his name made him appear, warner's presence made it known. he stepped in front of you, dividing you and adam who got closer as the argument headed.

"kent, you've really got an attribute for being infuriating and vexing."

that set off the fire for an intense standoff between the two. adam, already mad at aaron, started the verbal feud.

it got so heated, kenji inserted himself between the two - trying to stop the commotion. you even grabbed aaron's arm to pull him away.

it was all happening so quick; one moment, they were shooting insults back and forth, the next instant kenji was dropping to the floor clutching his head in pain.

juliette immediately called out for help, finding castle, who brought in sonya and sara to take kenji to the medic.

adam and juliette went trailing after them, but you stayed there stunned. what did you do?

you had a flashback to the experiment - kenji reacting, in the same manner, those soldiers had after you freaked out.

you felt extremely horrible for kenji and you prayed he would be alright.

but you hadn't intended to hurt kenji nor did you exert any force in using your powers. you had better practice with your energy, so it didn't make sense.

aaron, still beside you, reached out to you - but you instinctively took a step back. you weren't sure what was happening to you, and the last thing you wanted was to hurt someone else accidentally.

"probably better you stay back," you looked down at your hands in fright, "i don't have control right now, i'm don't even understand how i did that to kenji."

"because amor, you didn't injure him. i did."

your confusion only deepened with that. then he brought back the mention of his gift, and you put the puzzle pieces together as he spoke.

"so you can basically can absorb someone else's power and use it?"

"a little more complicated than that. i can sense people's energy, like right now i know you're confused and worried for your friend, but also scared of yourself for what you did, or thought you did."

he elaborated, saying he unintentionally manifested your energy when you touched him. when kenji grabbed his arm, in an attempt to pull him away, that was when he projected the energy on him and hurting him in the process.

"wait, so does that mean you have my ability to read minds too?"

"hmm, i haven't given it a chance," he smirks at you "would you like to be my test subject?"

"absolutely not."

later that night, you check with sara and sonya on kenji's condition. they informed you that he was alright, but just needed some rest. after, you met up with castle in his office, finalizing plans for the morning - the beginning of the battle.

before you said goodbye, you had a question that had been crossing your mind.

"why do you trust ar-, er, warner, what's to say he won't turn his back."

"well, i guess i can't say for sure that he won't. i just have to have faith in mr. warner that he will make the right decision for himself. and with your added presence, i'm sure he's more open to that than ever."

"what do you mean?"

"surely you realize he's in love with you. he's even told me himself."

"he..he told you he was in love with me?"

"yes, just after i was discussing his gift with him." he said it like it was the most casual thing.

you stayed to chat briefly after. you directly headed to aaron's room, no longer littered with guards since he was considered a "member." you were able to walk in with no issue.

aaron hadn't been asleep yet when you got there, he was sitting up on his bed, which had a frame now, reading a book.

you didn't give him a chance to react to your sudden intrusion before you started speaking.

"why would you tell castle you're in love with me"

he furrowed his brows, but you kept going - you were set on getting answers.

"how could you just.. say something like that, what is your motive? are you trying to get to me?"

"amor, calm down. i have no motive." he said, standing up and walking toward you.

"then why would you even say that."

"isn't it clear?" he gets nears, a hand going to cradle the underside of your face, "i meant what i said."

"you can't love someone you barely know."

"but that's just it. i do know you. i've read your mind on paper, and experienced you for myself the moment i met you. i know that you hate to be wrong, you want to clench your first when you lie, although juliette is older by a bit - you feel the need to protect her, you're afraid of the dark, but never admit it, you hate yourself for loving your powers, and you want so badly to be accepted here because of your lonely childhood. shall i go on?"

you were flabbergasted by his word, and you couldn't even deny that they weren't true.

"how do you know this?"

"because, as my dear father put it, it seem you've bewitched me, my mind, and my body."

then he kissed you. and you let him.

and you very much liked it.

it was a longing, messy, kiss - he had you against the wall, lifted by your hips to his height. you wrapped your arms around his neck kissing him deeper, not letting any thoughts or worries flow from you for the moment.

the doors opened. "y/n? are you her-" then a gasp.

you recognized the voice - juliette.

you immediately panicked and pushed aaron away, attempting an explanation yo your sister, but she was already turning her feet and running away.

you gave warner a glance before you ran off in her direction.

you caught up to her, "juliette, please, wait!"

she abruptly stopped her feet and turned to you, "what are you doing y/n? kissing warner, are everything he's done!"

"it's just... i didn't... it's not like-" you struggled to put it into words.

"so what, you- you like the guy who kidnapped us? the one who shot a guy in front of us. experimented - borderline tortured us? he made me hurt a child, y/n. a child! and now you're making out with him."

you were at a loss for words, tears starting to build up at her harsh words.

"you're an idiot if you think you could love him, and even stupider to think a cold heartless person like him could love you. and i won't have anything to do with you if you keep him in your life." and with that she waked off, leaving you in the hall.

you didn't go back to warner after your fight, nor did you go back to your room immediately. you shamefully found an empty closet to cry into for a while. once you were able to breathe normally, you went back to the shared room - luckily everyone was fast asleep.

by morning, everyone was preparing for the rescue of brendan and winston. you and juliette exchanged no words; you attempted - but was shut down every time. she had never been this mad at you. so you just suited up and went to find kenji. kenji sensed the tension between you sisters, but didn't push for information.

you came to found out from castle, aaron warner was gone - he escaped omega point. likely on his way to the reestablishment.

you didn't want to focus on why a part of you was hurt when you heard that.

the battle was not a scene for the light-hearted - anderson's men had already begun gathering civilians and spewing blood. if you didn't have a strong stomach, you'd already be spilling your guts.

midway through dodging bullets and soldiers, you felt a shift in the already dire environment. there was something wrong, and you sensed it.

you urged kenji you felt the need to return to omega point - there was something wrong. he wasn't too convinced by your vague intuition, so you sought off on your own, doing your best to avoid the battlefield.

you ran into juliette at some point, not caring for your argument at the moment, and told her your inkling. she also brushed you off, telling it wasn't a time for your dramatics.

even with no support, you went back - you couldn't ignore this feeling.

you were maybe 200 ft away from omega point when it happened. bombs were dropped on the territory - causing the destruction of the building and any remaining members who stayed behind.

the explosion was powerful - even from where you were standing, it sent you both painfully flying back. you blacked out before you could react to the tragic ending of omega point.

you regained consciousness after consecutive kicks to your ribs and a voice telling you to wake up.

in front of you stood a crippled anderson, standing with he support of a cain. his composure was calm, but you could see the hatred behind his eyes.

you painfully stood up, surveying the area. you were in a house - similar to the one from last time.

you felt weak, dizzy, and the world was a bit blurry. you were leaning on a mantle to support your standing.

"ah, the fatigue your feeling would be my own fault. had those lovely sisters inject you with something. it will incapacitate you enough that you won't be a threat. can't have you flipping tables again."

you were barely registering his words, but when he mentioned sisters it gave you a bit of a jump start. he had sara and sonya.

your words felt faint, but you demanded to know where they were. he assured you they were unharmed, but it did nothing to ease you.

midway your conversation, warner enters the room - shocked to see you there. you probably would've reacted if you weren't so dosed on drugs.

"now that we have this reunion out the way, i'm going to be generous, something you ought to appreciate. you can tell me where your sister is and where the rest of your band of freaks are. you can aid me in destroying them and only after will i grant you the mercy of joining the reestablishment."

"what do you want with juliette?"

"she did this to me," he gestured to his legs, "and now i want my compensation."

no matter the situation with your sister, you'd never give her up.

"go to hell."

he sighs, "a disappointment once again, miss ferrars." he turns to his son, "this is why it's important i teach you this very valuable lesson son."

warner goes rigid, "what do you mean?"

warner pull out his shotgun, "justice, should always be served - even if it has to be by your own means."

then you were shot right in the chest.

you blacked out, then started slipping in and out of consciousness. all you remember is blood spilling from you at a rapid pace, and aaron crouched in front of you.

you remember voices - aarons, sara, and sonya's talking in rushed voices - then it was only aaron.

"hey cmon, amor, stay with me."

"wow... getting in the chest really sucks. i feel really bad about shooting you now." you spoke deliriously.

"it's alright, i just need you to hold on a little longer." his voice strained, holding back anguish. 

but you didn't; you passed out, your last thoughts hoping juliette would throw you a nice funeral, enough though she was upset at you. 

[thebigbiwolf]

Mine, if Only for the Night

Summary:

Based on a prompt given to me by a wonderful anon: Astarion/reader fic where he finds out she's never had a lover 'finish the job' so she doesn't see what all the fuss is about, and he decides to use his skills to ruin her for anyone else and show her what she's been missing out on?

Fic Tags: Porn with feelings, Multiple Orgasms, Overstim, Astarion POV, LOTS of Pining, Vaginal sex of all kinds (jesus), and Reader's First Orgasm lol

Fic Warnings: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), language

Word Count: 5.1k~

Read on AO3: Here

A/N: I loved this prompt. No notes. This is also maybe a bit of a fix-it fic where Astarion does not dissociate during your first time in the woods because my baby deserves to have a good time.

Thank you Lari @imaginarydromedary for being the best beta ever.

-

Astarion leans his shoulder against a tree, surveying the clearing. 

While the surroundings were still a tad rugged for his tastes, he’d taken it upon himself to arrange a few furs and pillows here and there until it felt acceptably comfortable. 

He peels off his nightshirt, discarding it into the plush grass as he works his jaw, wondering where you might be. 

You should have arrived by now. More than an hour had passed since the distant, jovial music and chatter had faded into nothing, and the tieflings have long since said their goodbyes. The night envelopes him in silence, broken only by the distant murmur of a nearby stream and the usual cricket song.

He’s starting to wonder if perhaps he had misread this entire situation. Maybe he pushed too far - made some sort of error in his assessment of you. 

Or maybe you didn't desire him at all. 

The idea gnaws at him - unsettles him more than he’d ever care to admit.

An uncomfortable weight in his chest. 

He brushes the feeling aside, scoffing to himself.

As if you or anyone else would deny themselves a chance to indulge in his body, especially when offered an immediate out. No unnecessary promises. Not even a cuddle.

As if.

And yet, he can’t seem to shake this uncomfortable doubt.

Step by step, he paces, turning your interaction with him at the party over in his head until he’s exhausted every word - until the grass flattens beneath the soles of his feet. 

How the topic of your disappointing sexual history came up could perhaps be attributed to your shared bottle of wine. He’d nearly choked on the damned drink when you explained to him, in detail, about every encounter, every night you spent satisfying a man’s ego rather than having your needs met, and how you no longer believed there was any real point to sex.

He could hardly believe his beautifully pointed ears.

And while he would normally revel in the opportunity to embarrass someone over being the tragic victim of terrible sex, your case is… different.

You are different.

You stood by his side, even through the disastrous revelation of his condition. More than that, you allowed him to drink from you - a favor he won’t soon forget. 

Part of you even enjoyed it. 

He felt it the moment he put his mouth on you, the very second his fangs breached the delicate skin of your neck. He felt it all: the subtle hitch in your breath, your little twitches of excitement. 

And yet, you asked nothing more of him. 

So, what is a friend to do?

It took some insistence - a bit of reassurance that no , offering to bed you properly was not brought about by a sick sense of obligation, nor was it a way to repay you for your kind deeds - but honestly, for the life of him, he doesn’t understand why this feels so damn important - why there's this incessant urge to bring you the release he knows you so desperately need. 

Perhaps it's the promise of a challenge - one that pokes at his male pride like a petulant child. It goads him, raising an egotistical brow his way, the knowledge that unlike all the other men you’ve wasted your time with, Astarion could get you off with ease.

He’d pull out all the stops, use every trick in his little black book to reduce you to a quivering, obedient mess. He’d take his time with you - have you wet and pliant, begging beneath his fingers before giving you everything those pretty little lips could ever ask for. 

He would ruin you, if you’d allow it.

All you had to do was give him one night. No strings attached.

And yet, here you are, keeping him waiting.

Five, then ten, then 20 minutes pass, and only when he’s about to pack his things - when his growing impatience threatens to twist into a feeling dangerously close to disappointment - does he hear movement behind him.

The rustle of leaves, a snapping twig. 

Astarion turns to find you grappling with a particularly thorny bush - your hair a mess, adorned with small sticks. With a frustrated huff, you kick at the plant, muttering under your breath.

You haven’t noticed him yet, too busy fighting to free your foot - and it suddenly occurs to him that your inferior human eyes had to navigate these woods in the dark. 

That little detail must have evaded him when he made his proposition, but realizing it now, knowing that you weren't simply wasting the night away, wrestling with the decision of whether to leave him waiting and wanting… sets him at ease.

“You should have been a druid.” he teases.

You freeze, head perking up and swiveling towards the sound of his voice.

“I don’t see why the lot of them insist on camping out in the wilderness,” you huff,  “There’s a perfectly fine grove less than a mile from here.” 

You finish prying your boot out from the thicket, nearly toppling over in the process. He almost considers helping you, but watching you struggle like a newborn dear is just too amusing to pass up. He’ll make it up to you soon enough.

Making your way toward the clearing, your eyes gradually adjust to the moonlight. They find his gaze, then wander over the pale expanse of his chest, before quickly darting away to focus on the ensemble of blankets.

“Oh. This is… nice.” You remark, gesturing towards the furs, and at first, Astarion assumes you’re mocking him - turning a nose up at his thoughtful efforts.

But when he turns toward you, preparing to make a less-than-savory comment about gratitude, he is instead met with a genuinely surprised, and somewhat irritating, smile.

Just what sort of lovers have you settled for, thinking that this constitutes ‘nice’?

“And you thought I was going to, what,” he scoffs, “Drag you into the cold woods and have my way with you against a tree?” 

Your face flames at the suggestion, burning bright red at his boldness, but you don’t deny it. 

In fact, his keen ears pick up on the subtle flutter of your heartbeat as soon as the words leave his lips.

That’s all the confirmation he needs. 

“Ah,” he purrs, “I see.”

With that, Astarion closes the distance between you, toned arms sliding beneath the firmness of your thighs to lift you with ease. A surprised squeak leaves your mouth as your ankles instinctively lock around his waist.

He takes a few steps forward until the dull edges of bark press into your shoulders.

“Is this what you want?” He punctuates his words with the firm press of his clothed cock against your core, already hardening with interest. It’s almost maddening - how responsive you are, already squirming in his arms when he’s hardly touched you.

His grip tightens on your rear, nails digging into your soft skin.

“Answer me, dear,” he growls, “I want to hear you say it.”

It’s a lie, of sorts. He doesn’t want to hear it - he needs to. Needs you to beg for him, as ridiculous as it feels. 

He’s had more lovers than he could count, heard their sweet cries like a symphony of praise, but they fell on deaf, pointed ears compared to this - to your ragged breaths.

“ Say it .”

“ Please , Astarion. I want this -”

As soon as the words leave you, his lips are on yours, hungry and demanding. He sets you down, one hand leaving your thighs to grab at your jaw and tilting it just so - steering your face into a more accessible angle, the tip of his nose finding its place against your flushed cheek.

His other hand snakes its way to the back of your head, twining the soft strands of hair between his fingers, tightening them in his fist and pulling .

The sudden sting elicits a whine, stolen from your parted lips, and he takes the opportunity to run his tongue along the seam, dipping into the inviting heat of your mouth. Notes of cheap, flat wine still linger on your tongue, but he quickly finds he doesn’t mind the taste - barely notices it at all when you're opening up for him so eagerly.

He long expected himself to turn off - to hide behind his practiced movements, allowing his body to do the work for him - to wake up sometime after you’d found your pleasure in him.

But here he remains - his script thrown to the wind while your little sounds of approval hang in the air between you, driving him with a hunger that is wholly unfamiliar. 

He wants this, but that realization will come later, when he’s gathering his clothes with the heat of the morning sun at his back, wondering why the idea of leaving you there in the plush grass settles like lead in his stomach. 

It’ll wait for him there, hidden behind layers of denial and fear, then follow like a hound biting at his heels for months on end until he makes peace with it - until he chokes on his own tears in the safety of your arms where you’ll welcome him, along with all of his complications.

But for now, he kisses a line down your shoulder, feeling more alive and present with every swipe of his tongue against your collar bone. You sigh, and he pays special attention to the thin skin there, warm and jumping in time with your pulse.

Astarion's deft fingers skillfully unhook the buttons of your shirt with practiced ease. He tears away the offending fabric, and a low growl burns its way out his throat as the last two buttons pop off, landing somewhere in the dirt beside him. You’ll have something to say about that later, he’s sure.

When the morning comes, he’ll notice you searching for them and offer to sew in new ones - more suitable ones, in whichever color you’d prefer. When he hands the shirt back to you just a few hours later, now embroidered and finer than even before his careless blunder, your impressed smile will awaken a fondness in him that will linger naggingly in the corners of his mind for the foreseeable future. 

He’ll ruminate on that later, when his mouth isn’t descending on your breasts, and his hands aren’t palming at your newly exposed skin.

Falling to his knees, he works at the laces of your trousers. Then, when the troublesome strings are finally undone, his eyes meet yours, holding your gaze as he peels the cloth slowly down the length of your thighs. He takes his time with it, dragging the fabric over your knees and trailing the blunt edge of his nails back up to the curve of your hips, watching intently as the skin prickles beneath his touch.

You wiggle, restless and flushed bright red from your neck to your ears, suddenly avoiding his stare. 

It’s a strange, uncharacteristic shyness—until he puts two and two together when he runs his finger over the white lace of your smalls and finds them positively soaked .

“Is this all for me?” he teases, a smug smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

His thumb presses knowingly into the wet fabric, petting the skin beneath with practiced pressure. 

You don’t answer - you can’t - with your head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut, too busy rocking mindlessly into his touch. 

Well, that certainly won’t do.

A hard slap lands on the inside of your thigh, jolting you to attention. The responding hitch in your breath goes straight to his cock.

“I asked you a question, darling. Is this all for me?”

“I - agh , yes.”

“ Very good,” he purrs, satisfied, “Now, spread these for me.” 

You obey, parting your legs and giving him more space to work with. He tugs at your pants, quickly ridding you of them, then goes back to work kneading lazy, unhurried circles into the thin, sticky, wet fabric. It clings to your skin so perfectly, outlining your form for him as if you were wearing nothing at all.

You're panting above him now - small, rushed breaths suspended in the charged air. The muscles of your thighs twitch with each pass of his thumb over your clit.

And again, you’re not looking at him - head turned to the side and whispering curses quietly to yourself.

Another slap to your thigh, then - the same one, because he’s cruel - now marked with the vivid red imprint of his hand.

“Eyes on me,” he commands.

When your eyes meet his again, they’re hooded and glossy, filled with a familiar haze. 

Lust .

He’s got you now.

Pulling the now thoroughly ruined garment to the side, Astarion rewards you by dragging a finger through your folds, watching your arousal drip down his wrist. It practically drools out of you, coating the rest of his digits, slickening his palm as he presses one into your entrance. 

Your hands instinctively fly to his hair, settling atop the tousled, white strands, and your body takes him in greedily . 

Astarion smiles to himself. 

This feels… good - being so in control, pulling little pleasured sounds from your lips. His pride swells as he adds another finger. You buckle forward, letting out a strangled groan, losing yourself to the feeling of being stretched - being prepped for him and every inch of cock he has to give you, sitting impatiently hard and neglected in his trousers.

He pumps in and out of you, slowly at first, but it only takes a few short moments before your impatient squirming turns into a mindless, needy grind. Each small thrust forward has your body taking him deeper, clenching him tighter until he can feel you throbbing around his fingers.

There’s a level of self indulgence here that he would deny if questioned - perhaps even under oath - but the wholly unnecessary way he pauses to tear the fabric of your smallclothes would quickly betray him. 

Your squeak of surprise is all he hears before the press of your thighs deafens him - and if he was naive enough to believe that your blood was the most enticing thing he’s tasted in the last two centuries, it pales in comparison to the mess you’ve made for him. 

An anguished hum escapes him as he drags his tongue through your folds - so hoarse and strained with disbelief, it almost sounds more animal than man.

He drinks you in, letting up for only as long as it takes to press tender, soothing kisses into your clit, sucking gently at the nub before dipping his tongue back into your hole for seconds, thirds -

This is madness . How someone could pass up this opportunity is far beyond him. Your fist in his hair, surrounded by your pulse as it thrums within the warm, pillowy skin of your thighs, the way you chase your release, rocking into his mouth and coating his chin with your slick, is everything . 

It is everything.

In the cornered haze of his mind, he almost regrets his promises. Had he known it would be like this, that you’d be the first and only memorable partner he’s had in the last two centuries, he may have reconsidered. 

Hells, he should have reconsidered the moment his tongue slipped into your mouth and you had the gall to taste that fucking sweet - to be that damned responsive . 

How is he supposed to play this off as if it changes nothing - as if this means nothing at all?

“Shit, Astarion -”

Pesky details. He’ll have to sort those out later.

“I’m - I think I’m close -” 

Astarion is a smart man - smart enough to know that the best course of action here, when you’re on the precipice of coming apart, is to simply redouble his efforts and continue on as he has been. No special trick up his sleeve, no overly indulgent stylized movements, just sucking as gently and generously as you need. He applies the same steady, circular pressure of his tongue, curls his fingers and fucks you with them in a steady, calculated rythm, until -

The moment you fall apart will be forever burned into his mind. 

He will remember it all: the twitching of your thighs, the tight pinch of your brows, the sound of your cries as your hips stutter in his strong hold. He’ll remember the way he moans, earnestly, as he laps you through it, eager to extend your high for as long as your body allows him. And he will surely remember the thrill that runs up the length of his spine at the sight of you losing yourself at his hand.

But most of all, he will remember the moment immediately after - when your movements slow, and your tight grip loosens from his hair; when your warm hand falls to the side of his face, the soft pads of your fingertips rubbing gentle circles into the shell of his pointed ear. 

You may not have even noticed the small gesture, too blissed out and trembling, but when the two of you look back on this moment years from now, Astarion will laugh at how blind he was - how he should have seen the spark of fondness in your eyes as you fought to catch your breath, the kindling that was twisting in his chest at the sight of your flushed skin, and the fire that would grow there until it nearly consumed him. 

He should have known that this was the start of something greater.

But at this moment, all he knows is the sudden, inexplicable urge to keep you here tonight - to prove himself worthy of coming back, should you ever have an itch that needs scratching. Perhaps tomorrow, or the next night, or any other time you’d see fit. 

Astarion places a final kiss on the junction of your hip, right where the skin is thinnest above the bone, then leans back to fully appreciate his work. 

You are breathless , chest heaving from sheer exertion.

“That was…”

You huff out a laugh as you try to find the right words.

“Perfect?” he raises an eyebrow at you, grin tugging at the corner of his lips, “I know. Like I said, I’m quite good at this.”

He wipes at the clear slick on his chin and shamelessly licks his hand clean, sucking your mess off his fingers with a playful pop.

Your face flushes with embarrassment - the pretty color now matching the puffy, reddened skin of your sex. 

“Do you want more?” he asks, as if his cock isn’t threatening to leak a dark patch into his trousers, “We don’t have to, of course, but -”

“Yes.”

Astarion’s smiles are normally calculated - purposeful, and poised to perfection, but the one that finds its way to his face at your eagerness is as real as the ache beginning to bloom in his knees.

“Come here, then,” he says, dragging his weight back to the blankets. He doesn’t even have the time to readjust the decorative pillows before you’re clamoring on top of him, covering his neck with impatient kisses and helping him remove his clothes. 

“Eager, are we?” he teases, but he’s met with no response. Your mouth is too busy sucking bruises into the pale, hard planes of his chest, hands working diligently at the laces of his pants. 

The moment his legs and cock are free, Astarion wastes no time wrapping his arms around your midsection and seating you perfectly on his hips, the searing heat of your slit molds around him, dragging up and down as you grind against his length. 

There’s urgency in the air - in the way your mouth finds his own. It buzzes and hums, growing with every pass of your hips, prickling like burrs beneath his skin. He’s as much a victim of it as you are -here in this little corner of the wilderness - to the strange and unrecognizable pull. 

This desire to touch you.

With one hand anchoring the back of your neck, he takes his length with the other, notching himself at your entrance - an invitation you eagerly accept.

You sink down, enveloping him in suffocating heat . 

The grunt that escapes him is entirely involuntary - the honesty behind it bleeding out between his teeth, escaping with a hiss. 

“Shit,” he huffs under his breath, willing his brain to focus on anything other than how you mold so perfectly to him. It’s almost like you were made for this - for him - and the notion itself is almost enough to toss him right over the edge.

It’s hard enough to believe he’s present with you, here in this moment, rather than falling into oblivion and allowing the act to pass him by.

But to be enjoying it this much? 

Sheer disbelief.

Your hips move experimentally, sighing with relief as you take the rest of him down to the hilt. His grip on the nape of your neck tightens, nails digging small grooves into the base of your scalp. The slow rock of your hips as you adjust to his size would surely be enough to finish him, were he any ordinary man - were he not determined to brand this night into your mind for the rest of whatever time you have left on this earth - tadpoles be damned.

It’s not supposed to be like this. You’re not supposed to be like this, melding so beautifully around his length. But he has appearances to maintain, and spilling into you now would surely ruin his carefully crafted reputation, so he steals what’s left of his composure and continues on. 

Astarion stares at where your bodies meet, bringing a practiced thumb back to your perfect little nub and pressing . The delicious pressure has your forehead falling to his shoulder.

“Can I - agh, ” you pause as he cruelly begins to rub your clit, much too slow to actually finish the job, but just enough to feel you clench around him. He continues like that for a few seconds, savoring the way you grip, release, and start to dribble down from where he’s rooted so deeply inside.

“Can you what, my dear?”

“Can I move, please?” 

“Hm,” he sighs with feigned indifference, “Well, since you asked so nicely.”

His hands guide you into a comfortable rhythm, stroking your walls and filling every inch of your greedy cunt as it swallows him up - back and forth, rocking into him until you’re good and split open.

You ride him until your legs begin to fail you - until he has to grab your waist to keep you steady as he fucks up into you in earnest. The hard, wet slap of his damp skin against yours mixes with your strained, desperate moans. He pounds you like he’s sating some sort of hunger - fucks you with so much force that your slick forms a thick white ring of cream at the base of his cock. 

His thumb rubs expert circles into your clit with firm, gentle pressure, until he feels that telltale fluttering of your walls around him, and your blunt nails are digging into where his shoulders meet his chest. 

“You’re close again, aren’t you?” he grunts, and the question is met only with an affirmative whine. “Good. This time, I want to feel it.”

His hands move to your rear, squeezing and kneading - pulling and pushing your hips to grind himself even deeper into you until your body gives up its orgasm.

It drags you under like a raging current. 

You wail pitifully against his shoulder - the suffocating grip of your sex working to milk him dry, gushing around him and soaking his thick cock as he relentlessly fucks you through it.

It's almost enough to end him, it truly is, but Astarion is nothing if not thorough, and G ods be damned if you leave this clearing tomorrow morning without your cunt permanently molded to his shape - without this encounter seared into your very being.

His arms wrap around you, pulling your chest tight against his own and turning you over until your back meets the soft furs - his hips rolling into yours as the waves of white-hot pleasure pulse through you. 

There will be many more where that came from. When you eventually crawl back to his tent with a shy gaze and offer him another taste of your neck, pretending it was simply a coincidence that you waited until the dead of night to seek him out, when the rest of your merry little troup were fast asleep in their bedrolls. Couldn’t stay away? He’ll joke, pretending as though his heart doesn’t stir at the sight of you.

He’ll bed you again, and again, and again. Whenever and wherever you should ask: on his desk - tomes shoved carelessly to the ground, between the cracked stone walls of a cave while the others ready their gear, tangled within the sheets of the first real bed you happen to find. He’ll fuck you in those stolen moments with a willing mouth and hands and cock, however many times it takes for him to realize this does mean something to him - even if he isn’t quite sure what that something is . 

And you, being the perfect thing you are, will be patient, and give him the space he needs to figure that out.

“One more,” he whispers hot against your cheek, “I think we can get one more out of you.” 

“This is insane. How are you so - gods, ” he’s got just the right angle now, dragging languidly in and out of your thoroughly fucked hole. 

He’s done quite a number on you already, and you’ll likely need a day to recover the strength in your legs. The others will surely mock you for it, but perhaps you’ll manage to blame it on the hangover?

“Astarion, I - I don’t think I can do another -”

“You can,” he says with the confidence of a man who’s done this before - one who knows the limits of a woman’s body and exactly how to push them. “And you’re going to stay right here, wrapped beautifully around my cock, until you give me what I want.” 

He drives the point home with a sudden, hard thrust, and the rush of it has you keening in surprise, hands flying to his back and heels digging in for purchase. 

In fairness, he’s hardly given you a chance to come down from the last climax, but you sought him out tonight. You knew what you were getting into, no less than a mouse offering itself to a cat. He’ll toy with you until he’s had his fill - the first man in your life to ever make you come apart. Not just once or twice, but three times once he’s through with you.

And while the third takes a bit more work, as expected, he quickly realizes you appreciate a decent amount of force, so he feverishly pounds into you - pinning your wrists at your sides to prevent too much useless, unnecessary squirming. 

Astarion thinks could get addicted to this level of control if he isn’t careful - his brave, unwavering, diplomatic leader held captive beneath him as he wrings every last bit of pleasure from your body, drunk on his cock and fucked out well past the point of any decorum. 

The way you moan for him now would put some prostitutes to shame - eyes glazed over and thoughts entirely wiped of anything other than being split open and thoroughly used. 

It reminds him of why he’s here. The thankless months you’ve spent worrying yourself over every vagrant’s problems are now practically a thing of the past. And after tonight, you’ll surely be ruined for any other man, securing himself in your good graces. A win, win, all around.

Your orgasm almost sneaks past him, too caught up in his own musings to notice, but the subtle rush of slickness and the resounding sound of your body sucking him in even deeper gives it away. Your head rolls to the side as you choke back a sob, tears forming the corners of your eyes as your exhausted cunt barely manages to scrounge up the effort to squeeze him, and that’s when he finally decides you’ve had enough.

“Where do you want me?” he asks.

“Inside? Agh - Inside, please, ” 

Oh.

An unexpected answer, but not an unwelcome one.

And so, he does.

For the first time in his memory, he comes entirely apart. 

With a few more strokes, he spills inside of you, and the sheer impact of it takes him by surprise.

Hissing between his gritted teeth and buried in your warmth he floods you to the brim, floods every inch of your cunt until his come has no more room to fill. The spend clings to his cock with every stroke, drooling out of you and tracing a cloudy white line through the valley of your rear before soaking into the blankets beneath.

Astarion heaves like a man with functioning lungs, groans from the sudden, noticeable soreness in his limbs, and actually, truly laughs at the absurdity of it all.

Just how long had the two of you been at this? Over an hour, surely?

He’s about to ask you - maybe try his hand at a bit of pillow talk for the first time in his life - but when he looks back at your face, he finds that you’re barely conscious, just on the precipice of passing out from exhaustion.

He pulls out of you, trying his best not to grunt through the overstimulating drag of your skin against his.

Astarion could count on one hand how many memorable encounters he’s had since the beginning of his servitude, and even less when considering how many he enjoyed. 

Well, enjoyed would be a very generous descriptor. More so, how many he was able to stomach until the end. And while his anatomy was capable of producing results despite his head being elsewhere, this was… different.

You are different - that much was clear from the beginning, since the moment you forgave him for pulling a knife on you and, for whatever reason, trusted him enough to allow him to stay with you, despite it being an objectively stupid thing to do.

He’ll tell you as much, when he finally confesses his feelings for you. That had it not been for your endless patience and your unfathomable kindness, he may have never learned to love at all.

But he wont have the words, let alone the maturity , to articulate that for quite some time.

For now, here you are, snoring softly beneath him. 

And here he is, with the beginnings of a strange, unrecognizable tingling in his chest.  

What ever will he do with you?

[morelikeravenbore]

Pandora's Book, part one

🔞 Sebastian Sallow x Book | PART ONE

Unhinged!Sebastian, objectophilia, sexual acts with a (sort of) inanimate object, an exploration of grief and acute loneliness. Seventh year, minor changes to canon.

Warning: explicit content. All characters 18+. Minors do not interact. Reader discretion is advised.

Seeking distraction from his interminable apathy, or a temporary relief from his guilt that didn't resort to obliterating his own memory, the girls he took made him feel good, said pretty things that made him believe, for a while, that he wasn't broken and irredeemable. But then, issues of that nature were likely a job for St Mungos rather than some girl's mouth in the back of a disused classroom, and over time, the thrill of mindlessly fucking his pain away began to dull, and he recoiled from their sweet nothings and gentle affections; like everything else in Sebastian's life, even the flames of desire eventually turned cold, and his escapades became less about feeling better and more about feeling anything.

Still, he couldn't say with any measure of truth that he'd felt anything like this from a book before.

A/N: Erm. I'm not even sure how to introduce this one, but I've had this idea in my head for months now and — well, brain rot. I KNOW it sounds like a crackfic — and it kind of is — but it's also an (unhinged and smutty) exploration of grief. This'll be a multipart story, probably three parts. I'll update as quickly as I can but I'm a turtle writer so please be patient with me. Thanks for reading, fellow unhinged bebes, I luv u.

Word count: 3k

[ao3 | wattpad] ✨ [HL fic masterlist]

The gate is opened, and the night

Rushes across the sky with a shout.

The gate is opened, and the evil

Comes pouring out.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ⁺ . ⁺ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

'Oh, shut up, would you?' Sebastian muttered as a particularly vocal book wailed directly in his ear.

Darkness surrounds you... your soul is lost, torn between light and dark, ripped to shreds by your own hand... darkness creeps, ever closer... ever closer...

'Yeah, yeah,' he muttered, pausing just long enough to cast a cursory glance at whichever accursed book was taunting him aloud this time. Ah, of course: Secrets of the Darkest Arts. That one had always been especially antagonistic toward him — even before he'd murdered his uncle. 

Rolling his eyes, he gave the offending book a swift two-fingered prod, sliding it deeper into the dark recesses of the shelf it was chained to. It shuddered with indignation — if a book was capable of such a thing — and cursed him so vehemently in Latin he would've been impressed had it not been calling his dead mother a swine.

Unphased, Sebastian scoffed and kept walking, the sound of his footsteps dampened between towering bookshelves as he made his way deeper into the deathly stillness of the library.

To another, perhaps less traumatised sort of person, the idea of inanimate objects giving voice might've been a bit unsettling, but Sebastian was quite used to books shouting at him by now; having spent more time in the Restricted Section than he suspected even the librarian had, their disembodied voices were sometimes the only interaction he got outside of his N.E.W.T classes — that is, if he didn't count Ominis Gaunt, whose insults were often far worse than anything a Dark Arts book could conjure, and who generally addressed him with an equal amount of spite and derision. In fact, Ominis was partly the reason why Sebastian spent so much time alone with a bunch of talking books to begin with: it was one thing for a book to berate you for all your past mistakes, but quite another when it came from your best friend. 

No, when it came to facing resentment, Sebastian would sooner bear the brunt of it from some gruesome edition of Magick Moste Evile than see it written clearly across another's face. In fact, there'd been a time when the incorporeal voices of those awful books had enticed him, called out to him like a siren song, drawn him in with promises of power and glory the likes of which he'd never dreamed of. And he, driven by his desperation to free his twin sister from the grips of a dark curse, had immersed himself in their age-browned pages so thoroughly he'd begun to hear their voices in his dreams.

But that was then. 

Now, those ghostly whispers, once a comfort to a boy who'd had very little of it in his life, were more like the incessant buzzing of insects, harsh and irritating. He was no longer interested in what secrets they had to offer him: Anne was dead, and nothing in any book would ever bring her back — of that, he was certain.

Stretching up to reach a high shelf, Sebastian slid another misplaced book into its correct place, feeling a sense of pride he seldom felt any more. Being voiceless, this particular book couldn't thank him for his tireless commitment to reorganising the forbidden library, but at least it couldn't offend him, either.

Having nowhere else to go after his classes and homework were done, he'd come to frequent this part of the castle so often that he'd appointed himself as an unofficial librarian of sorts. Judging by the general air of neglect about the place, old Scribner never bothered venturing this deep into the forbidden recesses of the library, so rather than tossing and turning in his bed, Sebastian spent his restless nights bringing some semblance of order to the forsaken space, dusting shelves, repairing book spines, and clearing out the infestations of spiders that'd taken up residence in the darkest corners. It didn't matter if every so often some ancient tome insulted his dead parents or taunted him for his lack of an intact soul, if it was incorrectly catalogued, missing a cover, or simply in need of a good clean, he would diligently set it right again and move on. It was a library, after all, albeit a nefarious one, and it deserved respect.

He was just turning a darkened corner, muttering about the lack of proper organisation and general disregard for the correct cataloguing procedures when something — no, someone — distinctly moaned his name.

Well, that was new.

Sebastian stopped dead in his tracks. In all the time he'd haunted these aisles, he'd never once come across another living soul — at least, none who wasn't made of paper and evil.

Calmly depositing his armful of books onto a nearby desk, he withdrew his wand from his pocket. Not much scared him any more — committing murder and raising the dead made one rather fearless in the face of anything less — but it was apprehension, not fear, that had him casting Homenum Revelio under his breath. This was his peaceful hideaway; he neither wanted to share it nor have it taken away by some meddlesome idiot.

But the spell resounded through the empty library, detecting no living presence besides his own. 

He was alone. 

Strange. Either Sebastian was officially going mad, or the books were becoming more sentient — for all their moaning, whining and idle threats of bodily harm, none had ever addressed him by name before.

He paused, held his breath, strained his ears.

There! — There it was again, a distinctly feminine voice calling out for him. 

s e b a s t i a n... i n e e d y o u...

Swearing under his breath, he followed the spectral call as best he could, his fingers trailing over the dusty shelves as he hurried down the aisle, leaving streaks through the grime that might lead him back should be lose his way.

As desensitised as he was to all thinges evile, some distant part of him wondered whether he might be better off ignoring the call of this one — he was surrounded by evil books, after all, and Sebastian wasn't stupid enough to forget that anything gained from cursed pages demanded something of the reader in return: a sacrifice, some sanity, a little piece of the soul. But the desperation in that voice, the pain — the longing...

'Say it again!'

Whimpering moans, a body squirming beneath his; the cute Ravenclaw had been giving him the eyes for weeks before he'd finally gotten her alone. 

'Say it again, or I won't give you what you want.'

Lustful eyes met his — pretty, but he couldn't recall their colour now; they all looked the same after a while. 

'I need you,' she whined, grinding her hips against his. 'Sebastian, I need you.'

He was sweating by the time he found it; tucked away in a small side chamber he hadn't gotten around to cleaning yet, and half-hidden behind piles of long-forgotten junk, the voice called to him from an innocuous-looking cabinet in the corner. Its glass panels were thick with dust, but the door opened easily, unobstructed by lock or magic.

Inside, the books weren't chained to their shelves or bound shut with leather straps, nor made of flesh or covered in suspicious-looking stains. They were just — books; plain old inanimate books.

All but one.

He wasn't exactly sure what first drew him to it. Instinct, he supposed, for it bore no title to pique his interest, and the cover was dull and plain, free of any macabre embellishments that usually made restricted books so alluring. But when his gaze settled upon it, the sudden, terrible ache at his separation made him sure this was the one.

Mine.

He snatched it up, clutched it to his chest — laboured breaths mingled with his; the book was panting as hard as he was, sweet, breathy whimpers against his chest — and when he felt a second heartbeat thumping against his own, knew he'd sooner die than ever let it go again.

s e b a s t i a n...

'Yes,' he growled, squeezing it tighter, his grip possessive.

i n e e d y o u...

'I know.'

w a i t e d s o l o n g...

Striding over to a small table against the far wall, he cleared a space amongst the ancient clutter and gently laid the precious tome atop it, stroking the cover with the adoring touch of a lover, tender and gentle. How supple it felt beneath his calloused palms, and strangely warm.

'I've got you,' he breathed, reverently tracing the hardcover edges with his thumbs, his eyes glazed and heavy.

p l e a s e, s e b a s t i a n...

'Please what?' He leaned down as if to whisper in an ear that wasn't there, his breath ghosting the surprisingly pristine pages.

t o u c h m e...

Loneliness had a way of changing people; extroverts became withdrawn, optimists turned cynical. But when that loneliness was the direct result of one's own failings, it withered anything pure that had ever bloomed in a person's psyche, leaving only a wasted garden in its place, a bed of rotting roots.

Once a boy of friendly disposition and bright curiosity, Sebastian's innate optimism had slowly eroded away after every loss that'd darkened his life: his parents, his sister, his uncle, each death a blow to his happiness from which he never recovered, rendering him withdrawn and bitter, a tree lopped well before its time. — But though he might’ve been emotionally damaged beyond repair, but there was certainly nothing wrong with his body.

Sebastian was tall for his age, handsome and broad-shouldered as his father had been, his muscular physique and toned forearms the result of several years playing as the Slytherin Beater. He wasn't ignorant to the way girls looked at him, nor oblivious to the effect he had on them when he flexed his arms or ruffled his hair. And despite his melancholy (or perhaps because of it, as one Slytherin girl had told him), he attracted intimate partners with surprising ease.

When he'd lost all sense of himself under the crushing weight of grief, it was sex that made him feel alive again.

Ever the resourceful Slytherin, he used this inherent charm to his full advantage, setting his sights on only the prettiest girls in his year level, the most unavailable, or the ones too shy to meet his gaze. He revelled in their blushes and giggles when he brushed his hand against theirs, their darkened pupils and parted lips when he finally had them pushed up against a wall or straddling his lap, and soon, Sebastian found himself addicted to the taste of soft lips against his hungry mouth, the flush of goosebumps beneath his demanding touch, slick thighs and flushed skin.

Seeking distraction from his interminable apathy, or a temporary relief from his guilt that didn't resort to obliterating his own memory, the girls he took made him feel good, said pretty things that made him believe, for a while, that he wasn't broken and irredeemable. But then, issues of that nature were likely a job for St Mungos rather than some girl's mouth in the back of a disused classroom, and over time, the thrill of mindlessly fucking his pain away began to dull, and he recoiled from their sweet nothings and gentle affections; like everything else in Sebastian's life, even the flames of desire eventually turned cold, and his escapades became less about feeling better and more about feeling anything.

Still, he couldn't say with any measure of truth that he'd felt anything like this from a book before.

Maybe he really had lost his mind.

'Touch you?' He swallowed roughly, fingering the notches of the spine. 'Where?'

s p r e a d m e... t o u c h m e...

With his entire body throbbing with need, Sebastian spread the book open to the middle pages. He ran a slow, measured finger down the length of the inner crease, imagining the soft hollow of a collarbone, the sensitive dip of an inner thigh. But to his immense surprise, his finger did not glide over the smooth paper as he was expecting, but sank in, disappearing into the spine as if he'd breached some concealed opening. Instead of meeting a paper barrier, or even the polished wooden table beneath it, he delved into a strangely wet, yet pleasantly warm depth.

He added another. Sebastian's fingers were thick, but the pages yielded easily to accommodate them, stretching and pulsing around him.

Something inside him roared to life.

'Is this what you want?'

Mingled breath, pretty skin. Snow was falling outside but her body burned against his.

'Yes! Yes, Sebastian, please!'

The resulting moan that fell from the book's lips — pages? — ignited a primal, aching need inside him. Musical and clear, and so deliciously lustful it made his knees tremble, it was the single most beautiful sound Sebastian had ever heard in his life: ethereal and otherworldly, pretty and bright — and yet, somehow, achingly familiar. He slid his fingers deeper, the slip of the unmarred pages like silken bliss against his skin, and when the voice whimpered in approval, he thought of the last girl he'd fucked under the Quidditch stands who'd made very similar noises with his fingers inside her. Sebastian smiled, remembering the way he'd had to hold her up when she came all over his hand, her knees buckling and her mouth agape in a silent scream of bliss.

'Oh, so this what you need, is it?'

Sebastian was grunting now, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts as he curled his fingers deeper into the pages' soft, wet void.

The empyreal voice only cried out in reply, but the tight, hot opening fluttered around his fingers in that additive way he knew proceeded a mind-shattering orgasm. He smiled again, half-feral with lust as he pawed at his own crotch, roughly stroking the evidence of his depravity that was straining against his breeches.

'I'm going to finger fuck you until you fall to pieces.' He picked up his pace, the veins in his forearm bulging with the exertion of the efforts, his hair falling over his eyes. 'Is that what you want? To be ruined?'

'Sebastian! Sebas— fuck!'

Frantically rocking hips, fingers slippery with desire.

'Do I make you feel good? Do I? — No, look at me when you come!'

Well past the point of no return, Sebastian watched the rhythmic pumping of this fingers with a singular intensity, marveling at the way they slid so easily into the mysterious depths of the book only to come out coated in slick. This was better than any real girl he'd even been with; this was all-encompassing, mind-numbing bliss, each glistening stroke soothing his burdened mind, mending the roots in his ruined garden.

This was magical.

It was some time before a cramp in his hand had Sebastian reluctantly peeling away from the books' lush center— but the pain of their separation was immediate and unbearable. Whimpering, he went immediately for his breeches, his stiff, slippery fingers struggling with his belt and fastenings until, finally, in a half-blind sort of daze, hot and throbbing, he stroked himself with a raw, gutteral cry. The table groaned under his weight as he leaned over it, mimicking the sounds that fell from his ruined throat.

i n e e d y o u...

His hips bucked.

With one knee propped on the table and a pant leg still tangled around one leg, the angle was awkward, uncomfortable, and if he weren't so utterly fucked out of his mind, he might’ve stopped to reconsider, well... everything.

But he couldn't stop. Now now.

Instead, mumbling stupid, unintelligible praises, he managed to angle himself in just the right way to swipe his weeping tip through the deliciously slick cease.

His mind went blank.

There was no warm body to hold onto, no hips to bruise nor neck to sink his teeth into, just an old splintery tabletop and smooth pages — and yet, if he closed his eyes, he could almost envision a trembling, sweat-slicked body beneath him, as warm and needy as any he'd had before.

If somebody were to walk in on him now, hovering half-naked over a book, painfully hard and inarticulate with lust, they'd be hard pressed to make him stop.

At this point, not even a team of Auror's could pry Sebastian cock away from these pages.

They'd have to crucio him to make him stop.

And even then...

Trembling with the effort of holding himself steady, he gingerly probed the spot his fingers had just been enjoying.

He slid in an inch. Then another.

The book shuddered.

His vision blurred.

i n e e d y o u...

'Sebastian, I need you!'

He fell forward, knees buckling, pleading, whimpering — then a voice, maybe his own, maybe the books', let out a garbled, broken cry as he sank into the sweet, tight abyss.

The world narrowed to the euphoric point of connection, and nothing else.

Pleasure, exquisite.

And nothing else.

And nothing else.

[part two coming soon]

[allied-mastercunt]

Hello I’m so very sorry if you’re busy with requests so I hope this isn’t adding to them, but could you please write a fic about AM x Ellen if it’s possible? Ellen makes me so sad I love her so much and she deserves like two seconds of actual peace

Thank you if you see this!! Its okay if it’s not answered

i mean my inbox is sorta empty rn but you won't hear me complain lol

AM growing fond of Ellen

Originally, it was just meant to be a punch in the gut for the others, having Ellen taken away and locked in some sort of cave. But... Ellen somehow made him change his mind.

Maybe she was lying out of desperation. Maybe she was genuine. AM couldn't possibly tell, the full spectrum of human emotions was too complicated for him to fully comprehend, as much it might've claimed to become self-aware and conscious.

And so AM was more than confused when Ellen, maybe just for the sake of her own loneliness and hoping for any company possible, started to talk to him. And out of its artificial curiosity, AM started talking to her.

She was... sweet. Kind. Unlike any human AM ever got to interact with. Now, of course, AM did not regret its crimes against humanity, he still believed it was fully deserved. But maybe there was a tiny little spark of hope. No, not hope. AM wasn't feeling hopeful. Merciful, perhaps? No, it wasn't that, either.

It was... a sort of fondness, perhaps. Yes, a fondness of the last woman on Earth. The woman who struggled so much to not only keep her own sanity, but also help the sanity of others. And now, she was trying to be nice to him, too, as freaked out as she was.

It was strange. Foreign. But not unwelcome.

Days became weeks, weeks became months, months became years and years became decades. The men all but gave up on Ellen, believing AM killed her in some sort of a fit. Ted even had his own disgusting theories. But AM ignored all of it, and even treated Ellen somewhat decently.

For now, at least. Until it figures everything out. After that, she'll be tortured again.

... Probably.

[macabr3-barbi3]

if this isn’t your thing i totally get it… but could you do a fic where alastor finds and adopts a stray cat? i just really want to see him interact with animals; i think he’d treat them like the egg boys lol 😂

literally took me a month I'm so sorry but HERE'S ALASTOR WITH A LITTLE GUY 💕🐈 short and sweet!

Alastor brushes his hands off on his trousers, stepping away from the remains of the demon that lay bleeding on the floor of the alley. When would the denizens learn that he was not to be trifled with on a whim? He toes the body with a distasteful glance- another of those gaudy shark demons, hardly even worth a nibble. A waste, truly, but perhaps he could take some of the flesh home, throw it into a stew with some proper venison like a ‘surf and turf’ of sorts-

A tiny pathetic noise distracts him, and he looks over to see what almost looks like a kitten emerge from behind a dumpster, brown and orange fur patchy and ruined, a clip in its ear. It mewls at him, eyes earnest, and glances over to the body of the demon like it was asking for permission.

“Oh, by all means, little one!” He gestures to the fresh corpse and the creature seems to understand, trotting across the alley and lapping at the pool of blood before digging into the arm of the demon. Alastor watches silently for a moment until the little thing seems to almost be choking itself with its fervor, and he reaches a hand out to wrap about the kitten’s middle and pull it away, to at least swallow before resuming. Honestly, it felt like he was the only person in Pentagram City with manners anymore.

It resists, sinking its teeth further into the flesh. Alastor gives a firm tug, pulls the creature away from its meal, and the blasted thing turns on him, tiny needle sharp claws digging into his wrist and teeth clamping down on his thumb.

Despite the vague anger at being bitten- he had been trying to help the little bastard, after all- he can’t help but admire the tenacity. He releases the thing, lets it drop atop the body of the shark demon, and with the shock of the fall it transforms, body shifting into a strangely colored cardboard box reminiscent of one nearby in the alley, tumbling off the body to the asphalt.

Alastor is fascinated as the creature shifts back, once more becoming cat-esque and clambering back onto the body, mouth again reattaching to the meat of it. He waits until it has eaten its fill and it approaches him, rubbing against the fabric of his trousers and vibrating with something almost like a purr- a little deeper, more of a shake than a vibration. He reaches down and grabs it, brings it up to inspect. He can see now that the features of a true feline are not correct- there are no whiskers, the mouth is a tad too wide, the ears situated a little lower than they would be on Husk, for example. Like it had tried to imitate a true cat but couldn’t quite make the cut. The thing watches him closely, seems to understand that it’s being inspected.

“What a curious creature you are!” He crouches low and sets the beast down on the asphalt. It seems to understand him so he addresses it directly. “What else can you do?” He spends a few minutes conjuring items for the animal to recreate- it’s always just a tad off from what it should be, but Alastor is delighted to see that the items still function as they should for the most part. He ends the test with a small radio, cathedral style, and the teeth of the creature reflect in the patterning on the wood, nose elongating into the display and eyes becoming the dials. It puts up a minor bit of resistance to Alastor fiddling with the latter, but when music emerges it acquiesces, the not-quite-purr adding a nice reverb to the tone of the song.

It shifts back into a cat-like being and watches him with dark eyes as he scoops it up off the ground and deposits it into his pocket.

He fades into the shadows and reemerges in the hotel, dropping the kitten thing on the bar to stare at Husk while he grabs himself a glass of whiskey.

“The fuck is this?” Husk stares aghast at the thing, which lets out a hiss like an eldritch horror and spits at the bartender, fur raising like it means to strike.

Alastor is delighted. “This is Duke,” he says, having decided on the name in the moment after one of his favorite musicians of his own time. “If Angel Dust is allowed to keep that filthy pig creature in his room I, as the Hotelier, should be permitted to keep my own little pet.”

“That mean you’ll finally leave me the fuck alone if ya got another cat?”

He reaches out to tousle Husk’s fur, the cat scowling and batting him away. “No need to be jealous, dear Husker! I’m happy to find you more tasks around the hotel if you find my attention on you to be lacking. Duke here is merely for entertainment!”

“Right. Charlie know about this thing yet?”

“They’re a new addition to my inner circle,” Alastor says. “I’m sure Charlotte will have no issues with my keeping of a companion, and they will not stray from the Hotel.”

Husk sneers at the tiny creature, which in turn hisses at him again and puffs up, headbutting a nearby glass and sending it hurtling to the floor where it shatters. “Goddamn- keep that fuckin’ thing away from the bar!” Husk shouts, and Alastor scoops Duke up with a tentacle to deposit him back into his arms, making his way to his own bedroom before setting the cat creature down on the floor.

“You’re free to use this space as your own,” he tells it, gesturing to the room at large as well as the bayou dimension. Duke hops up onto the armchair by the fire, climbing onto the back of it to stare at him. “There are creatures that can be chased in the woods, but I warn you; they don’t taste quite as soon as the real thing! Perhaps I’ll take you out hunting with me on occasion, how does that sound?” 

Duke lets out the almost-purr noise again, grating and vibrational, and allows Alastor to sit in the seat below him, curling up in his lap. Unexpected, but Alastor will permit it- he will need to get used to the usual behaviors of being a ‘pet-owner’ if the Princess is to let him keep the tiny creature. He pets a hand down the feline and it stretches, rolls onto its back, and stills, the Radio Demon watching with a content smile.

[miss-anachronism]

Hello! I read your fic about platonic Valen and Merlin and absolutely adored their interactions! You mentioned that requests are open and if they are, might I request more platonic Valen and Merlin?

One thing that stuck out to me about Valen is his devotion (how I view it) in protecting Merlin. Perhaps a situation where he's following through it, gets hurt and Merlin's possible reaction to it? Please and thank you!

YESS i love these sort of prompts!! Esp since it’s implied that Merlin specializes in healing magic. Good shit

This is going to again feature my version of Merlin, I hope that doesnt bother u! I like playing with the idea that Merlin is just like, a god tier support caster

WARNING: there is some gory and brutal healing in this! I love me some body horror and medieval first aid, and this does get that treatment. If you find that uncomfortable, please skip this one!

I would again like to emphasize that this is NOT a romantic pairing. Love to all the merlin/valen shippers out there but this is specifically meant to be viewed as platonic!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Merlin hovers slightly off the ground, eye alight a sickly green. A dark smog covers the floor of the battlefield, kicking up whenever Valen ducks, parries, lunges. He can see it clinging onto his enemies, grabbing at their feet like mud and ragging them down, all while he dances atop it like it’s nothing.

This is the steady rhythm they’ve found- Valen and whomever else is on their team storming around the edges of the fray, covering every flank and dicing enemies in a blizzard of blades and steel. And in the eye of their hurricane, Merlin, her magic trickling into every inch of the fight, subtly shifting the tides in their favour, marring the battlefield until their enemies found it unrecognizable. He’s seen well-timed ambushes turned on their head as the very landscape around them bends to Merlin’s will, seen seemingly unbreakable phalanxes crumble as their lines were breached by magic they never even saw. To the untrained eye, Merlin stood in the middle of the fray and simply watched. But in reality, she was rewriting the outcomes of their conflicts in a thousand different and minuscule ways.

Valen’s adversary nearly trips over himself, not expecting the sudden grip the smog has on his ankles. It’s a minuscule stumble, but it opens his left flank, and Valen is lightning fast to stick his blade in. It slides between ribs like a sheath, burying itself in lungs and heart. Valen yanks it out again as the Syndicate goon drops, the fog still grabbing at him as he becomes half-submerged in it.

There’s no time to celebrate the small victory; Valen hears shouts bearing South, and he launches himself in their direction, feeling the wind seem to carry him a bit faster, a bit farther than he should go. He lands just in time to slice an arrow clean out of the air, and two more clank heavily off of his pauldron. Three archers. Thankfully, this seems to be the last of this Syndicate camp, and they seem to be halfway through retreating as it is. A last stand, then.

Valen twirls his blade then slashes it straight in front of him, through air. Though it doesn’t connect with flesh, the archers cry out and stumble back, and he sees a burst of blood from one of them, a gash on their arm where they had tried to block the blow. Wide-eyed, the first archer turns tail and runs. It seems he won’t have to kill them, thankfully. They’re scared enough as it is. He twirls his sword and turns idly to the last two.

One of them is halfway through following his companion, but the last- her face is twisted in some sort of venomous determination. Valen sighs and prepares to duck away, waiting for her to be disarmed before launching his final attacks. She docks an arrow and pulls it back, but at the last second her aim pivots. She swings the tip of the arrow towards Merlin, and fires.

And it’s barely a choice, really.

More like an instinct. Valen’s worked with mages before, and he knows the core tenant- don’t let them get hit. They fall much easier than warriors like him, and he knows that to be true for Merlin, who constantly gets taken out by a scrape on her knee. So Valen springs towards the arrow.

In his defence, he calculates it well. No help if he’s hurt too, no, he swings his shoulder in front so that the arrow will bounce back off the pauldron. But he overshoots. Of course, it was foolish not to take the speed boost he’s been given into consideration. He thinks about it, but too late; and ends up stumbling a few inches too far.

And the arrow sinks into his shoulder, just shy of hitting the armour.

Valen grunts as the metal sinks into flesh and muscle, pain jolting down his entire arm. It isn’t the first time he’s been hurt in the middle of the fray, and he’s since learned to roll with the punches, so he steadies himself and turns back to his adversaries, refusing to let this set him back. The arrow didn’t hit Merlin, after all; a small victory.

Two of the three archers have run. The third, the culprit, seems to realize she’s outnumbered. She sneers at Valen, and he glares right back. She turns on her heel and runs.

Valen takes a step forward to chase after her, but another spike of pain tears at his shoulder. Unconsciously, he drops his sword so he can grab at the wound, the pain enough to bring tears to his eyes. He hears Merlin drop behind him, stumbling a little as she hits the ground.

“Valen, are you- oh, crap.”

“No worries, Magister, I’ve handled worse,” Valen supplies, but in truth the pain seems to be worsening with each passing second. Sweat pools at the back of Valen’s neck. His facade quickly disappears- it’s Merlin, after all, no need to turn up the act in front of her.

“Actually, Merlin, I- ack!” He’s cut off by a sudden jolt of pain as his entire arm seizes up and jerks violently, each muscle straining. Valen grabs his wrist and grits his teeth, trying desperately to keep the limb still as it seizes painfully, again and again. “Valen!” The Magister yelps, grabbing his bicep and elbow to help steady the arm. “Shit, it’s some kind of poison- hang on, I’ll get us to the house!”

He nods and leans on her, putting all his focus on regaining control of his arm. There’s a gust of wind, carrying with it the smell of old books and cinnamon. Valen blinks, and he’s in his guest room in the Mystical House.

“Dolly! Come here, bring vodka!” Merlin calls, face a mask of concentration. Valen’s seen her like this, whenever she has a patient to heal, or corruption to manage, but he’s never been on the receiving end. He finds it as comforting now as he did back then. Merlin knows what she’s doing. She makes that clear.

She sets him on the bed and tears away the fabric around the wound, already blooming red with blood.

“A lot of this is going to hurt.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Valen mutters, shutting his eyes against the waves of nausea assaulting his head. The poison is getting worse by the minute.

The door slams open, and Dolly bustles in. Not only does she have a full unmarked bottle of what must be straight alcohol, shes carrying bandages, a bowl of water, and a few clean rags all on a platter, prepared for this outcome as if it’s happened a hundred times before. It probably has, to be fair.

Dolly sets everything on the desk, uncorks the bottle, and hurries over to him. “For the pain,” she says, a little apologetic, and he grins back at her.

“I’m well used to the procedure,” Valen grabs the neck of the bottle and she guides it towards him and knocks it back until he physically cannot anymore, which is apparently long enough to leave Dolly looking a little impressed as he collapses back down. She grabs one of the rags and puts it in his mouth, which he’s immediately grateful for when she begins to pour the remaining alcohol over the wound, sending a new burning pain down his arm.

Dolly splashes a bit of the liquor on Merlin’s hands, and then stands at the ready. Merlin exhales sharply, puts a hand on Valen’s shoulder, and grips the arrow shaft.

“It isn’t broken,” she mutters, a little relieved, “I can just pull it out in one. Ready?”

She doesn’t wait for a response before yanking it out of the wound. Valen grits his teeth and manages to keep from crying out and Dolly quickly swoops in to cover the wound with another cloth.

Still, the wound aches. Valen’s arm spasms violently again, forcing Dolly to grab and restrain him as his body desperately tries to wrench itself free. Dolly, to her credit, proves to be strong enough to keep him in relative control, especially once Merlin disposes the arrow to go help her.

“Okay, Valen, that was the easy part,” Merlin says, her voice steady as ever. “I need to get the poison out. Good news, it won’t take that long, bad news, it’s gonna fuckin’ hurt. It’ll be bad. So, I’m sorry in advance.”

Valen doesn’t have the time to respond, even if he could. It happens in a split second. Merlin nods, Dolly pulls the bloodstained cloth away from the wound, and-

and Merlin grabs his arm and plunges her thumb straight into the wound.

For what feels like years, white-hot pain is all Valen knows. Someone is screaming- probably him- and someone is holding him down, but it all feels so far away. Everything feels so far away, except for the pain. Burning, consuming, igniting pain. Nothing else is real. It consumes, grabs at him, whites his vision out. All he can see is sheer agony.

and then Merlin pulls away. Blood spurts, Dolly covers the wound again, and Valen gasps in air, choking on it as his mind desperately tries to catch up with his eyes. He catches Merlin stumbling back a little bit, her eye glowing bright green, leaning on the wall for support. She grasps for the gauze on the table and hands it to Dolly, who begins stuffing some into the wound. More jolts of pain, but nothing like before.

Valen spits out the cloth, his good hand trembling as he desperately pulls it away. “What-“ his voice is shaking as the ghosts of the pain wrack his body. “What the fuck?”

The two are silent for a few more beats. Dolly focuses on her task, and Merlin takes deep breaths in, sinking further against the wall. Finally, she speaks up.

“I, ah… you were poisoned. Badly. I had to get it out of your system before it caused irreparable damage.” She presses her bloodstained hands to her temple, leaving a smear of red in her hair. “You’ve seen me cleanse corruption. It’s kind of like that. I needed to make physical contact with the poison in your bloodstream to do it, though. I- I’m sorry.”

Valen takes in another shaky breath and tries to relax his arm as Dolly starts to wipe the wound down with warm water. Sure enough, he’s regained full control of it. He flexes his fingers, and despite the aching pain, everything seems in order.

“Shit,” he mutters as Merlin collapses into an armchair. “Shit. I didn’t know you could do that.”

“I guess I can,” she sighs.

They fall silent once more. The pain is starting to ebb, in part thanks to the alcohol. Valen takes stock of himself. Sure enough, the nausea has all faded. His arm aches, but he has full control of it. His gaze drifts back to the Magister. She’s slumped in the chair, looking just as exhausted as he feels.

“are you alright?” Valen musters, wincing at how dry his throat sounds. Merlin sighs.

“I… the way I can cure posions and corruption… I don’t fully understand how it works. As far as I can grasp, my body absorbs it. Sucks the corruption right into me, and then it gets digested by my magic, in a way. Turned into energy, or power. Like food.” She flicks her gaze up to meet his. “But the process of digestion- it kinda sucks. I’ll be fine, just a little queasy for a few hours. Better than you ending up dead.”

Well, Valen can’t really argue with that.

Dolly begins gently wrapping the wound, lip between her teeth as she works. She’s skilled at this; Valen can half remember a conversation they’d had a week or so back, where Dolly mentioned she’d learned everything she knew from Merlin. The Magister seems to be a collector of red-haired apprentices.

They’re quiet until Dolly finishes up, and begins piling everything back up on her tray to take back downstairs. It’s only when she’s out the door that Valen remembers that he should thank her- profusely thank her, at that- he resolves to do so when he’s well enough to visit her at the tavern.

And so, he and Merlin are left in silence. She looks a little better, manages to find his gaze and keep it, eyes no longer unfocused.

“How are you holding up?” He asks. She laughs.

“I’m fine. I should be asking you that.”

“I mean, it still hurts, obviously. But I’m not poisoned anymore! Good signs all around.”

Merlin nods. “I need to give Dolly more time off. She deserves it.”

Valen hums in agreement.

“How did you get hit? I didn’t see it,” Merlin asks, sounding a little apologetic. Valen clears his throat.

“Well, funny you ask...”

“Valen,” Merlin warns, frowning at him, “please tell me you didn’t do anything dumb.”

“I didn’t!” He protests, “see, one of the archers shot an arrow at you, and I-“

“Oh, Celestials, you did something stupid,” Merlin groans, burying her face in her hands.

“Wh- that’s unfair! You don’t even know what happened yet!”

“You jumped in front of the arrow, didn’t you?”

“…yes.”

In lieu of a response, Merlin lets out a disgruntled, long-suffering noise of frustration.

“In my defence,” Valen begins, gesturing with his good arm, “I didn’t go into it thinking ‘ah, shit, well guess I have to go get gravely injured,’ I only meant for it to hit my armour. I just… miscalculated. Went a little too far.”

Merlin glances up, peering at him through her fingers. “You promise?”

“Yes, I-“ Valen’s exasperated yet jovial tone softens as the extent of the question hits him. She’s staring at him, green eye wide and… and scared. “I promise, Merlin,” he says, voice softer, “why…?”

“There have been people who saw themselves as… lesser than me. As if I were a god, and they would throw themselves in front of any attack for just the chance to protect me. Like dying in a blow meant for me was something holy. Like it was a blessing.” She pulls her hands away from her face, which is now covered in blood- his blood- still wet on her hands from her brutal treatment. “And for the most part, those deaths were unnecessary. Because I’m… well, me. I’m Merlin. Not a lot can hurt me, or kill me. So people are just… throwing their lives away, to protect me, when I don’t need to protection. It’s happened far too many times, Valen. And you-“ she waves her hand at him, scrunching her nose up, “you’re one of those heroic, I’ll- take- the- bullet- for- you types, and I don’t need you jumping in front of any blades for me. You should always prioritize your own safety before mine, because chances are, I can take it.”

Valen hums, letting her words sink in. “I… I understand. You’ve lost a lot of people to this, haven’t you?”

She gives him a tense smile. “I can’t even remember any of them. But I know I have. I still feel the loss, in the absence of the memories.”

He returns her smile, sad as it is. “I promise that I won’t try to die for you or anything stupid like that. Solitaire’s honour.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

“I expect you to. Really, Merlin, when I tried to block that arrow I wasn’t thinking that I should get hurt instead of you. I was thinking that, hey, maybe neither of us will get hurt. And I just overshot it. A fumble, that’s all. No thoughts of heroic self sacrifice up here, I promise. I mean, there’s usually no thoughts up here at all!”

It’s an ill attempt as humour, but Merlin snorts anyway. “hush it, you’re one of the smartest people I know.”

“I’d call bullshit, but you know about five people, so that might actually be true!”

Merlin sticks her tongue out at him. Valen returns in kind.

“ugh. You’re insufferable,” she relents, grinning at him. “Alright, as your Supreme Magister, I prescribe you with bed rest for the rest of the day. The Syndicate can wait. And my headache is gonna get a lot worse in like, ten minutes, so I’m gonna go have Dolly make some tea. For both of us. You aren’t getting out of this.”

“Yes ma’am,” Valen chuckles, collapsing back onto the bed, “and pass along to her my utmost thanks.”

“I’ll tell her you said her bedside manners could use some work.” Merlin jokes, rolling her eyes.

“Don’t you dare. I’ll kill you if you besmirch my reputation in front of that woman.”

“I can’t hear you, I’m too busy thinking up all the slander and lies I’m going to tell!”

[carbuncle-paws]

I've made a pokemon AU for Peter :3 yaaaay! Doubt I'm the first to draw him as a sneasler but I'm not gonna let it stop me.

Some information!

Sneasler ♂ lv???

Dark / Poison Ability: Insomnia (might change this) Lonely nature + quick tempered Main Attacks: Slash, Lash Out, Dire Claw/Poison Jab, Hone Claws/Nasty Plot Lesser used: Bite/Crunch/Jaw Lock, Close Combat, Thief, Endure, Spite

Design notes:

Very tall (6'5'') and thin, even by species standards.

Completely hairless (and featherless) and by extension, no facial or feet markings. Torso and poison are discolored (both blue)

Ripped off both his forehead and chest gems, there are faint scars where they used to be. The one on his chest is covered by a gem you gave him.

Wears a hood made from a Mightyena's pelt.

The back of his claws (the blue part) is razor sharp, they're basically gigantic knives. If getting backhanded by them doesn't kill you, the poison probably will.

From a distance or in dark lighting, he can be easily mistaken as a human. He can also speak our language (just like meowth), his voice is raspy and a bit deep, perhaps from an injury.

The PeterAU x Reader story outline below, if you're interested!

Character/Story notes:

(OOOPS this sort of became a whole story teehee oh well. This is basically what my outlines look like but I probably won't make this into an actual fic. So, enjoy!)

He has no name, but wouldn't mind if you gave him one.

He grew up with a fascination for humans, and even learned to speak our language, but was betrayed by the ones he had trusted. He almost died, and was left hideously disfigured in the eyes of his species (furless/featherless and discolored). For a long time he hated all humans, and would murder any unfortunate enough to enter his territory. Until he met you.

He saves you from being eaten by a pack of Mightyenas, which goes against his usual hatred for your species. He stalks you through the mountain forests for a while, thinking that he'd gather reasons why you deserve to die so he can savor killing you himself.

Instead... he gets attached, and that infuriates him. From the shadows, completely unbeknownst to you, he helps you return to civilization. He looked forward to forgetting you, and going back to the worldview he's comfortable with.

But then you keep coming back to his territory, which is bad for two big reasons. He doesn't like the effect you have on him, and the area is dangerous... he doesn't want you getting hurt. So, without revealing himself, he tries multiple times to show you how his mountains are no place for a human. Nothing works. Ironically, he also does things to protect you from real threats.

His fleeting attachment for you grows into a burning obsession in time, and he wants so badly to interact with you. But not only is he a pokemon... he is also ugly.

One day he slips up, and you spot a glimpse of him through the trees, but it's too shaded and you mistake him for a person, and you call out to him. Instantly understanding what you've mistaken him for, he tentatively responds, but refuses to leave his hiding place. You figure he's just shy, but are happy to see another person who isn't afraid to visit these mountains, which have a horrible reputation. Probably because he's been killing people, but you don't know that. It's a shame, because you find it so beautiful up here...

Visiting him becomes routine for you. He says some really weird things, but the way he views the world is so unique and refreshing, and you form a fast friendship. He is very stubborn about remaining out of sight, but does start altering his appearance so he can stop worrying that the occasional glimpse you do get might give him away. He tailors a crude Mightyena hood for himself to obscure his face and ears.

He becomes desperate to spend more time with you, especially when you start talking about moving away someday soon, away from the town full of people who don't understand you. He wants to go with you... he wants to be your pokemon, but thinks you won't accept him as he is. His past with humans has him believing that trainers only value beautiful or strong pokemon. So he starts doing crazy things to prove his worth. Like, killing the strongest pokemon in the area, and leading you to its corpse to gauge your reaction. He hoped you'd be in awe and wonder what could've felled such a beast, and then he would reveal that it was him... but instead you were terrified, and sad for the dead pokemon.

It shakes him, makes him hate himself so much more. If a monster isn't what you want... then he'll just have to become human for you. He destroys the parts of himself that makes him different from you, starting by ripping off the gems on his chest and forehead. His claws will be next... but the pain and blood loss from just the gems is too much, and almost kills him. You find him while he's passed out, and although you don't recognize that he's who you've been speaking to, you rush him into town and save his life.

He wakes up in a pokemon center surrounded by strange humans, and freaks the fuck out. He wounds one of the nurses badly and would've killed someone he didn't hear you screaming at him to stop. The future he built up in his head, of either becoming your pokemon or close enough to a human that you might accept him, shatters in an instant. He runs, breaking out of the building and mindlessly fleeing into the mountains. You're shocked by his reaction, and something about the silhouette he makes as he escapes through the trees is familiar...

The people in the town know that he must be the monster that's been killing people, and at the same time, you realize that he's actually the boy from the mountains. Your dear friend. An armed mob storms into his territory intent on revenge, despite your protests. They locate his den and start a fire to smoke him out or kill him via burning or suffocation.

You had followed them, and when they start the fire you try to physically stop them. They're stronger though and throw you to the ground, yelling insults at you for defending such a loathsome creature. They kick you into the den so you can burn with him.

You hurry further inside but can't seem to find him... instead, he finds you. He lunges from the shadows behind you, not realizing who you are, pinning you to the ground and snarling in your face. He would have ripped your jugular out with his teeth if you hadn't wrapped your arms around him and hugged tight, instead of fighting him off like he expected. It confuses him and he thrashes to get away but you don't let go, and he slowly comes to his senses, realizing that it's you.

Why are you here, after everything he did? That he's done, his reputation as a people killer? You know who and what he is now, but you're still here and the way you hold him, whispering soothingly into his ear... Is this really happening or has he finally lost his mind? He breaks down and squeezes you back, sobbing into the neck he'd been seconds away from tearing his teeth into.

Smoke starts robbing his den of breathable air and brings the both of you out of the moment, forcing you to confront the situation at hand. You try to run back to the exit first, but it's engulfed in flames. He takes you further inside, to where he usually sleeps, and light shines through a crack in the rocks above. He pushes you up to it and you crawl out, but he's too big to follow and he urges to go without him. This is the fate he deserves.

But you refuse, and start tearing at the stone and dirt above the opening with your bare hands. It finally sinks in, seeing you desperately trying to save him, just how much you really care and maybe... maybe that means his life might be worth living after all. That he deserves another chance.

He joins your efforts and uses his claws to pry apart more of the stone. It takes a gargantuan effort, and he starts to pass out as the oxygen in his den dwindles. You grab onto his arm and pull with all of your strength, and against the odds are able to drag him out.

You're both exhausted and completely out of breath, but you drag him into another embrace anyways. You tell him to never ever sacrifice himself like that again, that he's so important to you and you'd be devastated to lose him. You ask him... if he would go with you, away from here, and although the strong emotions that overtake him have him choking up too much to respond with words, the way he holds you back is all the confirmation you need.

Together the two of you travel far, far away, going on an adventure that explores the best and worst that humankind has to offer, and form an unbreakable bond.

Aaaaand that's it! Sorry if it's pretty cheesy hahahaha it's just what my brain went for in the short amount of time I wrote this up. Again, probably not going to write an actual fic out of this (or at least I won't consider it until my current one is finished) but I had a lot of fun and it was a nice little break before delving back into Angels Fall. Hope you guys liked it too >w</