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604to647 · 7 months ago

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Barón Tovar Takes a Wife

Third Movement (Presto agitato)

11K / Bridgerton AU Regency!Pero Tovar x fem!reader, a childhood best friends to lovers story

Summary: What do you do now that you realize you have feelings for the Barón?

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Pining and Angst. Semi public kissing, groping and sex. Someone comes in his breeches 🤷🏻‍♀️. F!oral, fingering, thigh riding, unprotected PiV. Pet names (spanish), Pero catches reader and gives her a little twirl once.

A/N: I'm sorry for the word count 😅😅 I feel like the pacing of this final part is kind of like season 1 of Bridgerton where it was like 5 episodes of flirting and then SMUTSMUTSMUT 🤭🤭 Just wanted to give our Spaniard and his Dulce a HEA, that's all! Please please correct my Spanish!! Google won't be offended! Thank you for reading along and hope you're looking forward to Season 3 of Bridgerton next week!

Series Masterlist 🎼 First Movement 🎼 Second Movement 🎼

The following morning you wake to your ladies’ maid gently shaking you and a massive headache. Barely able open your eyes, so puffy from crying, you’re sure you gave her a terrible fright. After asking for and drinking some water, you try using the cool glass to depuff your eyes and alleviate the pounding in your head, but no difference is made; you continue to feel positively awful. Daphne comes into your room at the behest of the maid and immediately sees you’re much too unwell to entertain visitors today; it’s an easy decision to send all your suitors away and have them come back when you’re better. When you start to apologize for causing a fuss, she immediately shushes you and insists you get rest - she will have the maids bring up some soothing tea. You lay back down, exhausted, and drift off in the middle of telling her how much you love her.

---

Pero steps into Bridgerton House just as several young men are leaving; as they brush past him, he spots Colin speaking with a maid in the main foyer.

“Tovar! It’s been ages – how have you been?” Colin beams when he sees his friend.

In truth, Pero is here to see you; he can’t quite get over the look of distress on your face when you left him last night. Not for the first time, Pero silently curses Lord Ridlington for having sent over women to his house unsolicited last night, his apparent idea of a prank. Leaving the women to themselves in a waiting room, Pero had been discussing with his butler the next course of action when you had surprised him beneath his window. After you left, he made the proper arrangements for the women to leave discreetly, and had gone to bed thinking of you as usual.

“I’ve been well, thank you. Hope things have been going well here? Have today’s suitors started their visits earlier than usual?” He gestures to another three men now descending the stairs and making towards the exit in an orderly line.

“No, my Lord,” the maid explains, “Miss is ill today. Her suitors have been sent away and asked to return when she has recovered and is ready to receive visitors again.”

“Ill?!” How could you have taken ill when he just saw you? Instantly Pero admonishes himself for having kept you standing outside last night - the night chill must have disagreed with you. “Please,” he begs, “take me to see her.”

The maid looks panic stricken. Surely this Spanish nobleman must understand the impropriety of a man being let in to the bed chambers of an unmarried woman.

Colin diverts her attention, “Marie, it will be okay. Barón Tovar is an old family friend of the Count’s. There is nothing improper afoot. The door will remain open and you and I shall both be but a step away.”

With Mr. Bridgerton’s assurance, Marie the maid leads the two men to your door and opens it wide before stepping back to wait outside with Colin. Pero walks into darkness, the curtains still drawn to help you sleep and ease the pain of your headache, but your magnetic pull leads him to you with no issue.

Kneeling by your bedside, Pero says your name softly, but you do not stir. He goes to push aside some hair that’s fallen across your forehead and is alarmed when it feels hot to the touch; using the back of his hand to check your forehead and cheeks, he finds you clammy and feverish. Shouting for Marie, both Colin and the maid rush in to Pero’s call, “Please find the Duchess! Her friend is running a fever and a doctor needs to be called. And please bring me a basin of cold water and a clean washcloth at once!”

Daphne rushes in minutes later to find Pero dabbing your forehead with the wet cloth that Marie procured, “Oh no! I saw her this morning and knew she was unwell, but I did not think to check for a temperature!”

Shaking his head softly, Pero entreats the Duchess, “Do not blame yourself, your Grace. Likely this morning she was not feverish when you saw her. Please, has a doctor been called?”

The Duchess nods tearfully, grateful for Pero’s kind words and feeling a kinship with this man who clearly shares her tremendous concern for your well being.

When the doctor arrives, Daphne stays in the room and gives Pero a nod of reassurance; he leaves begrudgingly though he knows you are in safe hands with the Duchess. Hovering impatiently never more than a step away from the door, Pero breathes a sigh of relief when he overhears the doctor say that your temperature is no longer increasing, and that if kept cool and comfortable, your fever should easily break over the next day or two. He vows to ensure both conditions are met to the best of his abilities until the moment you awake.

After the doctor leaves and Daphne has gone in search of a servant to fetch your father, Pero stays by your side, continuously stroking your hair gently and dabbing your hot skin with a cool cloth. Every time Daphne passes by the open door of your room, she looks in to find Pero watching over you, brows furrowed, eyes full of concern and worry. Sometimes the Duchess will see Pero’s lips moving, speaking gently to you - though she never hears the words he says, she can tell they’re heartfelt. It becomes crystal clear to her that two weeks ago she had simply asked the Barón the wrong question; instead of “Do you intend to court her?”, she should have asked Pero: “Do you love her?” The answer obvious.

Pero never leaves your side, not when the Bridgerton women visit, or even when your father comes. He just tucks himself into the corner of the room until their visits are over, as if afraid to leave you. When it’s just him and you alone, he tries his best to make sure you’re comfortable, arranging your blankets nicely and propping up your pillows so that your sleep is restful and serene. He requests that cool water and clean cloths are at his constant disposal, and makes sure to dab your face, neck, and decolletage at consistent intervals in order to keep your temperature down. And while he does so, Pero continuously talks to you, encouraging you to get better, coaxing you back to him.

He calls you carino, hermosa, princesa, mi reina, mi amor, and all the other endearments he doesn’t ever let himself call you save for in his head. He lavishes you with compliments and words of praise that he's never allowed to slip past his lips - how perfect you are, how sweet and smart, that he doesn’t know anyone else like you and that your cheerful demeanor and melodic voice are the only things that can ever make him smile. He tells you how he hasn’t smiled as much as he has since he reunited with you at the Danbury ball in years. He confesses that every time he holds you while you dance, he has trouble letting go when the music ends, and when he sees another man take your hand and spin you around the room, he has to hold himself back from physically stepping in and pulling you back into his arms. He tells you that he finds you beautiful and intoxicating, and describes every last inch of you that he can’t stop dreaming about, but lingers the longest in his description of your eyes and the richness of expressions they make that leave him breathless. He tells you all these things because if he doesn’t say them out loud, he thinks he will burst from having to hold his feelings in all the time. He tells you these things because he knows you will never hear them.

As the doctor predicted, the fever breaks late the following day and you start to stir shortly after. Blinking your eyes open slowly, they come into focus to your father’s worry lined face and you watch as it cracks with relief, “Welcome back, dearest. How do you feel?”

Not sure you can trust your voice right now, you give your father a small smile and nod when he says he needs to get the doctor. In the few minutes you have alone, you try to get your bearings; the last thing you remember is waking to a terrible headache and falling back asleep after Daphne told you she would be sending your suitors away. You swear you have vague memories of Pero’s voice and soft touch, but that couldn’t have been real. Pero. Oh. You remember now the reason for having woken up before feeling empty and sad, but you don’t have too long to linger on it because your father returns swiftly with the doctor.

After declaring you well on your way to a full recovery, the doctor leaves you with your father; the Count, looking like the weight of the world has been lifted off his shoulders, hugs you tightly and clasps his hands tightly over yours, “I am so glad you are better, dearest. Now, will you please tell your suffering father what is troubling that heart of yours?”

You’re shocked. How could your father know about your feelings for Pero when you only realized them a few nights ago? Your surprise must be written all over your face because the Count gently explains, “My dear, in the entirety of your life, you have only ever had such a fever twice, both times due to crying yourself sick from heartbreak. The first time was when you were a young girl and I read you The Little Mermaid - the ending saddened you to tears. The other was when we were leaving Portugal and I didn’t let you keep the stray puppy you had been feeding for a month. This is how I know something ails your heart terribly. Please. Tell your father so he can help you.”

Your heart swells with affection for your father - he has always been the most loving and caring man, attentive to your feelings and understanding of your nature. There is no one on this earth who you trust so whole heartedly and with whom you feel so safe. Except for Pero, you suddenly realize.

You tell your father everything. You tell him about how Pero lets you be yourself without reservation, and that with him you don’t need to temper down your enthusiasm for your interests or make your experiences seem smaller than they are. How he encourages you in everything you do and makes you feel like you’re capable of anything and everything. He respects you and approaches you with kindness, always making you feel safe and taken care of. That he makes you laugh all the time. And that you’ve taken Pero and his wonderfulness for granted, not realizing just how rare and valuable all his amazing qualities are because if you had you would have figured out earlier that you’re completely in love with him. You cry softly and confess to your father that your heart is broken because you’re in love with a man who will never see you more than a childhood compatriot, and that you may never get over this sad truth.

The Count listens to you sympathetically, and when you’re finished, he simply tilts his head thoughtfully and asks, “How do you know he does not care for you in the same manner?”

You can hardly tell your father that you snuck out of Bridgerton House and interrupted Pero when he had company over, so you have to cite another reason you’re so certain of how Pero feels about you. But you find yourself struggling to come up with any concrete examples or reasoning that satisfy even yourself; all you can say is, “Because he wishes for me to find a husband. He encourages me to do so. I’m simply the daughter of his father’s friend.”

Something like bemusement dances over your father’s face, “It seems to a me that a man who thinks of you as simply the daughter of his father’s friend would not have purchased my shares in the fleet.”

You’re absolutely stunned. Pero purchased your father’s shares? But why? There was no inherent income from the investment, the dividends benefitted you and your future children only, “Why would Pero do that?”

“You will have to ask him yourself, dearest. It shouldn’t be too long before he visits himself now that he’s likely heard you’re awake. He had not left your bedside for nearly two days and it was only at my insistence that he let me sit vigil so he could go home and change his clothes.”

Again, you’re astonished; is it possible that your vague recollections of Pero’s voice and gentle touches while you were ill are real?

“I will say, when I asked him the same question of why, his answer was that he did not want the hard work you and I put into our happy venture to be squandered. He said he knew that would break your heart.”

It’s true, it would.

“With his experience, I know the fleet would be in good hands.”

Nodding, you have to agree.

“… and you would be in good hands.”

You look up to see your father looking at you with an expression you can’t quite place. You’re about to ask him about it when you hear a quiet knocking and you look over to see Pero standing in the open doorway, as if you had summoned him with your conversation.

“My apologies, I do not mean to interrupt. I thought I heard your voice and wanted to see if you were awake,” Pero looks tired, but hopeful.

The Count waves him in and gets up, whispering in your ear, “Be kind to him, dearest. The man has been in anguish and has not left your bedside for more than a few minutes these past two days.” Kissing you on the cheek, he tells you he will go and find the Duchess to give her the good news of your recovery if the doctor has not yet done so himself. After he pulls away, you notice for the first time that your room is filled with peonies, every flat surface covered with the most splendid displays in the prettiest pastel colours – your heart soars at the sight. When Pero takes your father’s place in the chair across from you, neither of you notice that the Count closes the door behind him.

“Dulce, how are you feeling,” asks Pero with as much feeling as you’ve ever heard from him.

You tell him you’re much better, and that although no one has said so explicitly, you suspect that much of your recovery is due to his diligent care and watch over you.

“It was nothing, Dulce. I was worried about you. I am glad you are okay now,” he says, relief evident in his voice.

“Thank you for taking care of me. I really don't know what I have done to deserve your kindness, Pero. And not only these past two days when I’ve taken ill, but over the entire course of this season – I do not think I have ever properly thanked you for being there for me, supporting and encouraging me, and bringing me such peace and joy so that I did not buckle under the pressure of my debut. Please allow me to do so right now. Thank you, Pero,” you look at him with adoration and admiration, pouring all your feelings out and disguising them as simple gratitude.

“It has been my absolute pleasure, truly. I am so very proud of the woman you have grown up to be: beautiful, smart, funny, and so, so very caring. You are one of kind, Dulce – and the lucky man who marries you needs to know just how special you are. There isn’t anyone else who has your vibrant spirit, your sweet disposition, your fun-loving heart. He needs to know and nurture all these wonderful qualities so that your light never goes out,” Pero espouses your virtues and merits with eyes fixed upon yours, wishing he could express just how deep his admiration truly runs.

To say you’re affected would be an understatement, and it makes you bold and brave.

“Pero, I cannot tell you how much your kind words mean to me. I have never known a man to be more genuine and earnest that you; when you say something, you mean it. I find you so very thoughtful this way. And in other ways as well – I know, for example, it must have been you who filled this room with my favourite flowers.” Pero nods indulgently and you carry on, “… and I know you purchased the shares in the fleet from my father. Thank you, Pero.”

Pero is surprised, although he had not asked the Count to keep the sale from you, he didn’t expect you to know already.

You’re looking at him with an expression he won’t let himself name, eyes soft, almost pleading, “Why would you do something so generous, Pero?”

Pero remains quiet, as if wrestling with how he wishes to answer and you wait patiently, not sure what to expect.

“The owner of the shares has custody of a great gift. The fleet is an impressive venture - it has potential to do considerable good in this world, and much of that is thanks to you and your father’s dedication and contributions – the holder of these shares cannot squander that opportunity; he needs to honour you and your father’s legacy by carrying on the good work you’ve started together. But that in and of itself is not the gift. The man who holds these shares is also given the gift of being able to take care of you, to have a small hand in ensuring a prosperous future for you and your children. I… could not take the risk that someone who did not understand the honour of this charge would hold these shares. I hope you can understand and not think it imprudent of me.”

You don’t know what to say. Pero is so generous and considerate – how could he ever think you would view his gesture as anything but deeply caring? Unsure of your silence, Pero attempts to lighten the mood, “This way, I can still be in your life. I can come to see you when I need to discuss matters of the fleet.”

“Pero, you’re my friend! You do not need to have a business pretense to see me.”

He shakes his head sadly, “You will be married, Dulce. Your husband would not like a man like me visiting his wife frequently.”

“A man like you?” you’re not sure what he means.

“A man who looks at you the way I look at you.”

You inhale sharply, hardly allowing yourself to breathe, “And how do you look at me, Pero?”

“Like you are the sun, Dulce. Like everything you touch is made brighter and better from the light of your smile and the warmth of your sweet laugh. As if under your care and attention, everything and everyone, including me, grows – stronger, brighter, better. I look at you like I dream about the graceful notes of your voice every night and wish to hear your melody of thoughts and opinions on all things. I look at you like I am hypnotized just by the sway of your hips and even the lilt of your fingers. Everyday, I’m ever more enchanted with the tilt of your head and curve of your mouth. I look at you like I could never get enough.”

“And what if I don’t want that?”

“Then I will stay away, mi reina. Anything you wish,” though crushed, Pero knows that he would do whatever you asked.

“No, Pero, you misunderstand. What if I don’t want a husband who does not want you looking at me like that? What if I want you to look at me like that? What if I do not want a husband who isn’t you?”

“Dulce…” Pero’s heart has leapt into his throat, he can hardly allow himself to believe what he’s hearing, “… you do not know what you’re saying. You would not want me for a husband.”

You smile kindly, “And why not?”

Pero looks at you so sadly it breaks your heart, “You would not wish to separate from your friends and leave England to be mistress of a lowly Barón’s estate in a foreign land where you know no one and do not speak the language. Not when you have suitors with much grander fortunes, with estates nearer to your friends, and where you and your children would grow up in the style befitting the daughter of a British Count. You would not want a husband who is never home and spends more time on the seas and in far off lands than he does on home soil; one you never see and for whom you would worry all the time, not knowing where he is or what he is doing.”

“Would you not be willing to take me with you on your travels, Pero?”

“Of course, I would,” Pero never second guesses his answer.

Heart still aflutter at Pero’s romantic declarations, you press ahead, determined. “Well. It seems then that no one would be better suited to be my husband than you! You must know me well enough to know that I do not care for grand fortunes and estates, and my dear father and now you have made sure that I will never be financially dependent on any husband. What I care for is freedom and adventure! And exploration and not being kept from the joys this life has to offer because I am a woman, or just somebody’s wife. As for my friends, I can always visit! And I am fortunate enough that the strength of our bonds is not dependent on having to see each other constantly. Honestly! This would not be the first time in my life I have gone to live in a foreign country where I do not speak the native tongue – it’s practically second nature to me now! But I can see how it would be useful to be able to fluently converse with servants and locals - I suppose I would just have to commit myself to learning Spanish. That is,” you’re suddenly embarrassed upon realizing that Pero hasn’t actually asked you to be his wife, and instead, you’re espousing all the reasons you find the match to be agreeable when he himself hasn’t expressed any desire for it, “if you would wish to have me.”

“Dulce, all I have done since the moment I laid eyes on you at the Danbury Ball is wish to have you. Do you know how hard it was for me to see you entertaining all those suitors when I was certain none of them could ever appreciate you for even half the wonderful person you are? None of them had any idea what a smar-“

You crash your lips to his, and after the initial surprise, Pero kisses you back with the fervent need that’s been building in his soul the past few months. Throwing your arms around him, you open your mouth to his just as his hands pull you flush to his chest; it’s the warmest, hungriest first kiss to have ever been kissed. Your mind having only recently caught up to your heart, and Pero’s constrained feelings finally being set free, your tongues press together over and over, spilling all the unspoken words between the both of you. On instinct you fist Pero’s shirt and pull him down with you onto the bed, Pero’s eyes darkening as he climbs on top of you, placing one knee in between your legs while keeping the other on the ground. You finally run your hands through his soft curls and it feels as incredible as you had imagined two nights ago; you both moan softly at the sensation.

“Dulce, you make the prettiest noises…”

You purr softly at Pero’s praise, leading him to groan deeper into your mouth and you feel the hand that isn’t braced on the pillow next to your head start to skate up your side, landing near your breast and tentatively drawing circles on the underside of your plush curves with its thumb. You arch into Pero’s hand to encourage him to touch you, and he responds as he always promised he would if he had the chance which is to give in to your every desire. Groping your breast and finding your nipple between his fingers, Pero rolls and pinches so expertly that you can’t help but writhe beneath him. He shifts to kiss down your neck as he continues his attentions on your peak and when his knee brushes your throbbing centre, you gasp loudly before covering your mouth with your hands. Still breathing heavily, the two of you giggle and smile stupidly at each other in the tender moment. Pressing his forehead against yours, Pero whispers, “Mi reina, we should stop, I still need to ask your father for your hand. Tomorrow, I am sure he will come here for breakfast and I will ask to speak with him after.”

Looking deep into is eyes, you nod; you know Pero’s right, though there’s a warmth radiating from your very being that wishes to invite scandal and tell him to never stop touching you, knowing by the way he’s making you feel right now that it would be worth it.

Not without regret, Pero pulls himself off of you and stands; after he helps you sit up, Pero tips your chin with his finger so you look at him squarely. A seriousness takes over his face, an expression he usually reserves for others, “Are you sure you want me, mi amor? You have so many suitors, so many options.”

Your eyes shine with sincerity and so much softness for this man that does not seem to understand just how much you love him. You vow to spend the rest of your days showing him, “There are no options when there’s you, Pero.”

You can’t help but shriek a little in laughter as Pero falls on you and crushes his lips to yours, pinning your body to your bed with his large and solid frame. Kissing you over and over, Pero punctuates his affection with barely strung together words of love - So perfect. So perfect. Can’t believe it. How. How did I get so. Damn. Lucky. Beautiful. Perfect girl.

Right before your giggles can turn into moans, a knock on your door freezes you both. The noise is quickly followed by the Duchess’ slightly amused voice, “Is everything okay? We have brought up dinner. Please let me know when it is decent for us to come in.”

Giving you one last peck on your lips before chuckling lightly, Pero pulls you up and whispers, “Tomorrow,” before going to open the door for Daphne.

The next morning you find Pero waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs when you come down. Checking quickly to make sure there aren’t any lingering servants, you step off the third to last step and fling yourself into his arms. Pero catches you easily and gives you a twirl before placing you gently on your feet, then places a less gentle kiss to your lips. With a few hurried murmurings of devotion - I missed you. You look beautiful. I still can’t believe you’re mine - you break apart and head to breakfast.

When the two of you enter the dining room, you’re greeted exuberantly by your friends congratulating you on your recovery and expressing their delight that you’re well enough to rejoin them. Your father hugs you and you think you detect a knowing smile gracing his face, but you’re too soon seated with platters of food being offered and pushed towards you for you to be sure. It’s a happy occasion but also slightly awkward – you’re seated next to Pero, but you have to pretend that nothing has changed between the two of you. Trying to cheerfully chat with your father and friends, you find yourself unable to give the conversation your full attention because you trying with all your might to hold in the most wonderful news of your life, and with it, your overflowing happiness. It doesn’t help that Pero finds increasingly mischievous ways to secretly touch you throughout breakfast: foot reaching over to playfully nudge yours, gently squeezing your thigh under the table. When he purposefully brushes his hand down your arm and over yours in order to reach for the butter dish, you gasp in surprise - his touch out in the open sending a warm thrill through to your heart. In response to your friends’ concerns, you have to lie and say you may still be feeling fatigued, and Pero, ever the menace, pats your shoulder affectionately and reminds you not to overexert yourself before buttering his scone with a smirk.

After your father finishes his meal, you nervously watch Pero hastily shove his last piece of food into his mouth before asking the Viscount for use of his office, and entreats your father for a word. Finishing your own breakfast as quickly as you can without drawing suspicion, you find your way to the closed office doors and pace outside impatiently. Try as you may, you cannot make out any of what is being spoken in the office, even when you press your ear up to the door. After what feels like an eternity, the door opens and Pero exits; not the least bit surprise to find you outside, he whispers in your ear as he walks by, “Your father wishes to see you now, Dulce. Come find me afterwards. I will be upstairs writing a letter.”

The Count welcomes you into the office with open arms and you immediately fly into your father’s loving embrace. As he continues to envelope you in the warmth of his joy, he chuckles, “Well, dearest, I think your old father deserves some acknowledgement for being right.”

Pulling away from him, you look at the face that’s so much like your own, eyes crinkled in mirth and a smile big enough to rival yours, “I concede, Father - you were right. And I have never been so happy to have been wrong!”

Your father’s already expressive eyes shine with an extra brightness, “All I have ever hoped for is your happiness, my dear. Pero is a good man, like his father before him and he has given me every assurance that he will cherish and take care of you the way you deserve. I shall rest easily knowing that you will be in his capable hands… and he in yours.”

What did you ever do to deserve such a brilliant father who has given you the most wonderful life? You ponder this as you walk up the stairs after telling your father that you love him and saying goodbye for the day. You suspect you’ll never discover a satisfactory answer, but can only hope you can one day bestow the same unconditional love and support upon your own children.

You find Pero sitting at the corner desk in the drawing room where some of the Bridgertons are relaxing: Eloise and Colin reading, Francesca tinkering at the piano forte, Daphne looking over some correspondence of her own. Approaching him silently, you look over his shoulder and whisper, “Mi rey, to whom are you writing?”

Smiling at your Spanish endearment of choice, Pero responds without looking up from his task, “I am writing my king, Dulce, and asking him for his permission to marry.”

Ah right, you consider that the Count could very well be penning a similar letter to the queen at this same moment, “What happens if he refuses, Pero?”

“Then I abscond with my new bride and we live like pirates on the run,” smiles Pero, still not looking up.

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” you grin.

Pero finally sets his soft gaze upon you, “Nothing can be so bad if you are by my side, mi reina.”

He looks at you with such devotion and affection, you can’t help yourself - you cup his perfect face in your hands and bend down to kiss him. Pero returns your soft, gentle kisses with his own, nothing urgent, nothing hurried – just a moment of tenderness that couldn’t have been restrained.

You don’t break apart even when you hear the successive gasps of your friends or even when Colin cheers, unable to part from Pero’s lips even a moment sooner than you need to. When the two of your finally look up, it’s to the sight of the Duchess standing with her hands on her hips and a beaming smile on her face, “Do you two have something to tell us?”

You and Pero attend all of the remaining season events as a happily engaged couple. Pero, no longer scowling all by his lonesome against the wall, but standing tall and proud next to you; his hand laced through yours or comforting and firm on your lower back as the two of you receive congratulations from the ton. He drinks in the jealous looks from your former suitors and inwardly chuckles a little at the conceding grumbles from the mamas who proclaim with surprise that they didn’t know he had been looking for a wife. His stoic countenance cracking just a little at their poorly concealed scandalized faces when he replies that he hadn’t been. For your part, you don’t notice any of this; you only have eyes and ears for Pero. Your face hurts from smiling so much – it’s all you can do to tear your eyes away from your handsome fiancé in order to respond politely to the questions you receive from curious members of the ton.

You still dance every dance, floating on air as you traverse the floor in the strong arms of your dashing Spaniard; now that there is no danger of some other man whisking you away from him for the next dance, Pero quite enjoys the dance floor. He holds you closer than he probably should, chests touching and faces so close that the gentle fan of your breath curls over his lips; his hands find themselves placed low on your back during the waltz, dipping scandalously close to where he really wants them to be, itching to squeeze the plush globes of your ass. If anyone was to make a comment to you about it, you would giggle and simply say that your fiancé is a passionate man.

And he is. A passionate man, that is. Under his grave and steely visage, Pero is a man who yearns for and craves the woman he loves, hungry for you at all times. Such a man is not made of infinite restraint - the limits of Pero’s self control having already been sorely tested for the past few months. As such, whenever an opportunity to escape the rigid formality of these events would arise, Pero wasted no time whisking you away for himself.

At the Grand Picnic, he steals you away to a secluded spot in the gardens where he proceeds to kiss you so fervently and passionately that you actually get dizzy. He presses you against the base of some winged sculpture and hungrily licks and sucks down your neck, all while you cover your mouth with your hands, hoping against hope to contain your moans and soft whimpers. The stone angel watches from its perch as Pero trails his mouth down past your collar towards the swell of your breasts, already rapidly rising and falling. Pressing feather light kisses to the tops of your breasts, Pero drinks in your breathy giggles when his scruff tickles you, before diving in devilishly, lapping at your ample curves and the valley in between. As you start to pant from arousal, Pero finds himself most ardently wishing that your tits would break free of their fine silk confines and spill into his mouth.

A la mierda, he thinks and glides his tongue into the sliver of space between your dress and skin, dragging it across your chest until he hits your hardened nipple; having found his prize, Pero dives in, straining with his tongue to stroke your peak harder and faster. When he leverages enough space with his chin to wedge in between your soft skin and the fabric of your dress, Pero takes your breast into his mouth and sucks while groping your other breast with his hand, finding the twin nipple already straining against your gown, aching to be played with. The combined sensation has you grabbing at Pero’s hair and pressing him closer to you; with your hands now otherwise occupied, your gasps and moans spill unfiltered from your open mouth. The obscene sounds Pero pulls from you must start to carry, because soon you hear voices getting nearer to where you and Pero have now frozen, his mouth buried in your chest; he places one last chaste kiss to tops of each of your breasts before the two of you giggle and run hand-in-hand out of the gardens.

At the Opera, Pero secures a box on the second mezzanine for the two of you. With most of the ton preferring the orchestra seats or boxes closer to the stage, you find yourselves alone in the secluded alcove nearer to the house balcony. Once the lights dim and the overture starts, Pero takes your hand in his and you lean on his shoulder, relaxing into his closeness. By the time the audience is enjoying the soprano’s heart-breaking aria in the third act, Pero has his left arm thrown around you and the knuckles of his right hand are ghosting over the front of your panties where he finds them already damp from want.

“Keep your eyes on the stage, Dulce,” he whispers in your ear as his thumb draws slow circles over your clit. You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from crying out, trying with all your might not to let your whole body react to Pero’s teasing lest it draws the attention of the opera house attendees sitting on the balcony or in the boxes on the opposite side of the hall.

Pero is patient. And thorough. He takes an inordinate time exploring the shape of your pussy - running his thumb then fingers over the outline of your slit and the hardening form of your clit, eventually cupping your mound and letting you grind down on his palm to give you some of the friction you so desperately seek. He toys with you over the fabric of your underwear for the remainder of the 3rd act until your panties are completely soaked through. Only once the 4th act is underway does he slip his hand down the front of your underwear and start to run his forefinger through your folds.

“Pero…” you sigh, spreading your legs wider to allow him more freedom of movement.

“Doing so good for me, mi amor,” he whispers back, continuing his smooth, teasing strokes, dragging your sticky arousal through the valleys of your seam and trailing it up to your clit, spreading it over and around your bundle of nerves before returning his fingers to your wet core. He repeats this over and over, alternating the speed and pressure of his fingers, never letting you settle into a complacent state. Quite the opposite – you feel like your body is on fire.

Willing yourself to breathe through your nose as evenly as you can, you focus on the soprano’s finale song before the ensemble gathers for the finale; just as the singer hits the high notes of her solo with a warm vibrato, Pero pushes a finger straight into your heat and you whine in harmony with her. Slowly he pumps his finger in and out of your tight hole, nearly losing control with the way you clench as he drags along your warm warms; Pero feels you hum around him as pleasure you’ve never felt before radiates throughout your entire body. The squelching sound of Pero working your cunt are thankfully masked by the musical drama unfolding on the stage, and Pero uses the opportunity to ask you if you’re ready for another.

Seeing you nod as subtly as you can, Pero murmurs, “Good girl,” before adding a second finger to join the first. Oh. You’re so full. It’s a stretch, but the sting pairs perfectly with the devastating pleasure now coursing through your veins as Pero slowly drives his fingers into you. Staying with a slower pace until you start dripping down his wrist, Pero’s fingers now start to thrust faster, keeping tempo with the musical build that the ton in the orchestra is enjoying, clueless to your lascivious activities above them.

When Pero presses his thumb to your slippery clit, you surge forward and grab onto the balcony banister for stability, nearly in danger of drawing the attention of unwanted eyes. Refusing to ease up in his efforts on your cunt, Pero continues to push you closer and closer to your high, his fingers never faltering from their punishing pace until you come and cry out in tune with the finale’s final chorus. While the rest of the audience applauses when the curtain falls, Pero’s praise is only for you - purring that you did so good for him and kissing you gently as his slips his slick covered hand back into his glove.

At the Hastings Ball, you’re the one feeling bold. Having arrived at your friend’s estate a week prior to help the Duchess with preparations, you familiarize yourself with the grounds and all the intimate, secret corners perfect for intimate, secret things. Once all the guests have arrived and the festivities have begun in earnest, you sneak off with your fiancé, leading him down a hidden staircase into the Duke’s impressive wine cellar. With all of tonight’s refreshments having already been pulled from inventory, you know no one will be coming down here during the ball; you’re free to touch, feel and love on Pero in all the ways you desire. Once Pero realizes the amount of privacy you’ve been afforded, he’s like a dog unleashed, stalking and cornering you into a wall with a growl, sniping at your neck with his teeth and lips, pawing at your soft curves already on display for him in your pretty ballgown.

Here in the cellar, while you still cannot be loud, but you don’t have to be quiet – the cavernous room echos your quiet moans and Pero’s deep grunts like a soundtrack of pleasure that’s percussed by heavy breathing as the two of you drown in one another. Lips attached to yours, but eyes kept open to take in your lustful expression, Pero spies an unopened crate out of the corner of his eye and smiles against your mouth, “Come here, Dulce. Let me show you something.”

After letting him lead you to the crate, you allow Pero to help you on top before scooting you back so your legs no longer dangle over the edge. Grinning, you ask playfully, “What, pray tell, do you wish to show me, Barón?”

“Want to show you how I’m going to make my pretty wife feel good every day we are married,” Pero looks at you, eyes dark, as his starts to ruffle up the many layers of your dress. You giggle as his pushes through the yards of fabric with a feigned annoyance, bunching it up for you to hold against your chest like an overstuffed pillow. Once Pero is satisfied with his unfettered access, he gently pushes you to lean back on your elbows, hands still laid prettily on your pillow of dress skirts, eyes watching your handsome fiancé’s movements. Pero leans over the edge of the crate and rubs your silk stocking covered calves with his big firm hands as he starts kissing up your leg starting from where your stockings end mid thigh. Every kiss he leaves on your skin gives you a shiver as the cool cellar air hits the imprint his lips leaves behind; then, as he gets closer to your heat, he starts to open mouth kiss where you’re the most sensitive, dragging his tongue back and forth over these tender spot and leading you to throw you head back and close your eyes in heady desire. When he repeats this fog inducing pattern on the inside of your other thigh, you start begging, “Pero, please… please, my Lord, ple-pl-please!”

Nipping at your sensitive flesh with his teeth, Pero smirks against your leg, “What do you need, mi reina?”

Opening your eyes, you nearly buck into his face when you see Pero’s roguish expression peeking up at you from between your wide spread legs, “Touch me please, mi rey.”

“Here?” he asks, with pretend innocence before he dives in and starts devouring your pussy over the fabric of your underwear without waiting for your answer. This feels different. So much like his fingers but even more sensual, intimate, wild. Pero mouths and nuzzles your cunt with a precision only rivalled by that of his tongue; his tongue has a mind of his own, gently prodding, exploring, reaching where his lips can’t. Pero's hands reach up your legs and hook under the band of your soaked panties and you catch him look at you before he murmurs “May I?” directly into your cunt. The vibrations of his question run through to your chest and it’s all you can do to nod quickly before you watch him pull the frilly undergarment down your legs and have them drop to the ground. Already completely wrecked, Pero takes in your glistening folds, wet and primed, and growls, “Look at this perfect pussy. And she’s all mine.”

You run one hand through his soft curls and grip his hair so he’ll look at you, smiling lazily, already unbelievably blissed out, you promise, “All yours.”

“Mine,” Pero repeats, and then he buries his face into heaven.

The sensation is overwhelming in the very best way. Pero is eating you, no, devouring you like a man starved; every press of his lips to your pussy somehow deeper and hungrier than the last, as his tongue licks every crest and wave of your core and marks them for his own. Your slick pools from you, down your backside and dampens your gown beneath you; the wet noises from Pero’s mouth against your folds echo obscenely around you and your voice cannot help but try to add in its own harmony. All of this makes you feel like a worshiped goddess about to ascend her alter and simultaneously like a wanton whore who knows that true heaven lies in the bodily pleasures of this mortal realm. Then, as Pero’s mouth closes over your clit and he starts to flick your throbbing nub with his tongue, you realize in your daze that no, what you are is something better than either of those two things: you’re the woman who is marrying Barón Pero Tovar. That’s the thought that overflows from your thumping heart and pushes you over the edge, coming on Pero’s face as you chant his name in a grateful prayer.

After the Ball, you’re positively exhausted from purposefully overdoing the socializing after returning from the wine cellar so no one would recall your long absence. Yawning, you’re giving your hair a final brush when you hear a soft clink against your bedroom window, followed shortly by another, then another.

Confused, you approach your window with slight trepidation, and upon looking out, you think at first that your tired eyes must be deceiving you. Below your window, gazing up at you, is Pero. He looks devastatingly handsome; yet to undress – Pero is still in his formal breeches, but his white shirt has been unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, exposing his smooth, tanned skin to your admiring gaze. You might lick your lips at the sight. Giggling as you tiptoe down the stairs, you walk out onto the terrace that hangs off the sitting room directly below your bedroom, greeted by Pero’s blinding smile, “Barón, what are you doing here?”

It's an easy climb up the side of the wall to the terrace level for Pero and his long legs; once he’s standing directly in front of you, he answers, “I could not sleep without seeing you one last time, Dulce.”

Where did this man who adores you so openly and without reservation come from? You throw your arms around his neck and pull him in for a gleeful kiss; you adore him too, after all.

Still grinning, Pero jokes, “And as I recall, it is my turn to call upon you in the dead of night from beneath your window in order to rouse you from the comfort of your bed chamber.”

Although he has no such intent, Pero’s words immediately transport you back to the night you realized your feelings for him… and how you had left his house, devastated upon the discovery that he was not alone. Stilling in your movements, you shrink away from Pero a little; none of this goes without notice.

“Dulce, are you okay? I’m sorry, I did not mean to imply there was anything wrong with these late-night meetings, but if you prefer to go back inside, I understand.”

You shake your head to let him know you’re not upset by that, but still your expression remains slightly sad and hurt. Pero bends at the knee to meet your eye, “Mi amor?”

You’ve never lied or kept anything from Pero in all the time you’ve known him, and now that you’re his fiancé, you’re not about to start. Looking at the ground next to you, you mumble, “I’m sorry, I was just remembering the night you’re alluding to; when I interrupted you… with those two women.”

When Pero doesn’t answer, you wonder if he’s upset with you for having disturbed him that night, and you look up to meet his eye finally, trying to give him a brave smile, “Please do not be upset with me. I did not know you had company, which would have been entirely your private business, to which I know I am not entitled. But if I must be honest, I do not particularly enjoy imagining you with other women.”

Pero has to stifle a laugh; if only you understood the war that raged in his chest every time a suitor placed his hand on your waist for a dance or when you would laugh at their jokes with that twinkle in your eye he loves so much – then you would not feel as if you had to hide these feelings from him.

Stroking your jaw gently, Pero tips your face to his, “Dulce, I could never be upset with you. Firstly, you are entitled to all my business, private or not. Secondly, the women to which you refer were not there by my invitation – Lord Ridlington had sent them to my house that evening as some sort of prank. In his words, maybe if the Barón got laid, he would not be such a stick in the mud. Nothing happened with those women, I promise, mi amor. When you arrived, I was right in the middle of arranging for a carriage to take them home. And thirdly,” Pero walks you backward until your back hits the wall; he braces an arm above your head, and towering over you, grips firmly onto your waist with his other hand, “how could I ever even think of another woman when there is you? You with your pretty face, and your sweet smile, and your heavenly laugh. You with your witty quips, and your melodic voice that says the smartest things, and this gorgeous body…”

Pero’s voice trails off as he starts to kiss down your neck and his strong hands start to move up and down your sides in unison, then separating so one can reach up to massage your breast and the other down to grope your ass. Your head tips back to allow Pero more access as you melt into his touch - he’s everywhere at once, overwhelming all of your senses. Kissing down to your breasts, Pero finds them available to him in a way he has yet to experience, your thin night dress much flimsier than the gowns you wear during the day; he can already see your nipples poking up through the fabric, hard and inviting. Without warning, he ducks and takes one in his mouth, teasing and sucking in tandem with your loud gasps and moans.

“Oh Pero, right there, oh- nghhh, please that feels so good!” you cry out breathily. Spurned on by your praise, Pero frantically rucks up the skirts of your nightgown and slots his thigh between your legs, pulling you down to sit. The pressure and friction on your cunt sends a wave of pleasure through you, amplified and extended by Pero’s tongue and lips laving their attention on your breasts. He encourages you to rock against his thigh, using his grip on your waist to help you find an enjoyable rhythm, and once you’ve found one that catches your clit on the flex of his leg, his hands leave you to your work and travel up your body to pull down the front of your night dress, exposing your tits to the cool night air and Pero’s darkened gaze.

“Beautiful,” he breathes, as he leans back to admire everything before him: your naked curves, your hardened peaks begging for his attention, and the sight of the woman he loves getting off by rubbing her pretty pussy all over his thigh. He thinks he’s minutes away from combusting.

Instead, he dives right into your chest, mouth and tongue licking, kissing and nibbling, hands groping, pinching and pulling all your delicious parts so that he can bring you to your second orgasm of the night. While tugging at your nipple with his teeth, he hisses low, “Were you jealous, Dulce?”

Half out of your mind from pleasure you gasp back, “Yes!”

Growling, “Good,” Pero sucks in a mouthful of your breast and kneads what he can’t fit into his mouth with his hands, panting out words when he should be taking in breaths of much needed air -

Now you know how I felt.

When some other man would touch you.

When you would smile at your suitors.

When you didn’t know I would burn the world for you.

You cry out at his confessions, gripping the back of his head and pulling him closer to you still; increasing your rocking, you’re chasing your own high when your knee brushes up against something hard, something big. When it jumps at your touch, you use your knee to stroke Pero’s length with every pass of your pussy over his thigh.

Your breasts now wet from Pero’s mouth, the cool night air’s chill against your skin causes you to tighten in Pero’s arms as he continues to electrify you with his hands, his mouth, his tongue, his words -

Never need to be jealous ever again, Dulce.

There’s only you.

Never want anyone else.

Don’t need anyone else.

You’re my everything.

Mine.

You come to his loving and possessive declarations, singing back your own - Yours, yours, yours. Body violently seizing and shuddering, Pero holds you close as you ride out your high. As you continue to buck against him, he crests to your desperate whimpers and breathless panting – his eyes never leaving your face, mesmerized by the sweet blissed out expression that he pulled from you. Finally opening your eyes, you grin lazily at the sight of your lover smiling at you, calming down from his own summit; and when you feel the dampness of his trousers against your bare knee, you giggle in pride and pull Pero back to you lips for a flutter of happy kisses. As he walks you to the door to the waiting room, you hardly give him a moment without a light peck on his lips, cheeks, neck – not sure you’ll be able to stand being apart from Pero for even a few hours of sleep.

Before he leaves you, Pero cups your face in his large hands, whispering against your lips, “I’m yours,” and you smile back and press your mouth to his before returning, “Mine.”

You marry at the end of the season in late June with the blessing of the Spanish king to do so in England. The ceremony itself is wonderful and your gown is gorgeous, but you hardly remember anything save for how handsome Pero looks waiting for you at the end of the aisle and how he and the Count both had tears in their eyes for most of the wedding. What you remember much more vividly is the fun you and your friends had when preparing for the nuptials. Days and nights filled with laughter, play fighting over flower arrangements, tearful promises to never let distance impact your friendship – you thank the Bridgertons over and over for their love and support during this season and bringing you to Pero; you can never repay them. When you board the ship to your new home, it’s not without tears as you say goodbye to your friends and father; everyone sends you off with mirroring sentiments and promises to visit soon.

If the Tovar estate servants had any concerns or misgivings about having a foreigner as mistress of the house, you soon win them over with your kind and gentle nature; your cheerful and easy-going demeanor overriding any language barrier, which with their help and your dedication, you were overcoming more and more every day. And if there were any remaining whispers, be they among the members of the Spanish court, villagers, or any one else, they were quickly quieted once the concerned party bore witness to the ferocity of your love for your husband and his obvious and complete devotion to you. The older house staff observed quite readily that they hadn’t seen the Barón smile as much as he did since he was a boy. The newer servants declared that prior to his marriage, they had not seen him smile at all.

One morning, only two months after landing in Spain, you wake to find yourself alone in bed for the first time since you and Pero got married. Deciding it unnecessary to ring for your ladies’ maid (Lucia, a delightful woman whose English was improving as much as your Spanish), you throw on a dressing robe over your night dress and pad downstairs, sure you’ll find your husband in the dining room having breakfast.

As usual, you’re right; for a few minutes you remain standing in the doorway, admiring your handsome hulk of a husband as he shovels the remainder of his breakfast into his mouth. You love the way he eats… everything - with voracity, unabashed hunger, like he can never get enough. Strolling in only when you see him push aside his empty plate in favour of a pile of letters and paperwork to begin reading, you thank the footman who had already seen you and plated you a warm breakfast, before you approach Pero’s chair. Dancing your fingers across his broad shoulders, you slide onto your husband’s lap before laying a soft morning kiss to his lips, “Buenos días, mi rey.”

“Buenos días, mi reina,” Pero kisses back, turning his full attention to you as he always does.

“Te echo de menos esta mañana (I missed you this morning),” you pout, although you’re not really upset with him in any way.

Pero smiles at you indulgently, “I thought you might like to get some extra sleep.” He nuzzles your ear and you can hear him smile, “Considered you might be tired after your activities last night, Baronesa.”

You giggle and pull him in for another kiss, your cheeks get hot just thinking about the multiple orgasms that Pero pulled from you with his talented fingers, mouth and cock; you purr back and pepper his scruff with kisses, “Very thoughtful of you, Barón.” Your eyes soften, “No me gusta despertar sin ti, Pero (I hate waking up without you, Pero).”

Pero kisses your temple, “My apologies, Dulce. How can I make it up to my pretty wife?”

You squirm in his lap; a thrill still runs through you when you hear him refer to you as his wife, and you start to plant breathy kisses to the spot right behind his ear that you know drives him crazy.

“Already? Is my wife so insatiable?” chuckles Pero, though his voice his has dropped to that low baritone register that makes your stomach flip. You nod into his neck and start to run your fingers through his soft curls, tugging impatiently at the ones at the base of his neck.

“Déjanos por favor (leave us please),” Pero calls out politely. The servants in the dining room leave at once and close the doors, some smirking - all the servants having gotten used to their master and new mistress’ voracious appetite for one another. The younger servants were mainly amused and some even found it romantic; the older servants acting scandalized, but secretly pleased to see such a happy marriage on the estate after so long.

“Sit up here, mi amor,” Pero pulls you off his lap gently and directs you up onto the dining room table; you move his papers aside and push his flatware out of the way. Teasing him, you quip, “I thought you already had breakfast, my lord?”

“I’m ready for seconds,” growls Pero as he pulls up his chair and seats himself between your legs. Licking his lips greedily, he unties your robe and peels it open to reveal your lacey nightgown underneath. Lifting up the skirt to reveal your already wet and waiting naked cunt, he murmurs, "Delicious," before lowering himself to meet you where you already need him so desperately. Aware that you might still be sensitive from the previous night’s sex, Pero is careful with you – his licks and strokes to your folds are gentle and slow, he mouths and sucks your clit with tenderness and reverence, and when he presses two, then three fingers into your tight hole, he does so with restrained worship. It’s only when you cry out for more, more, more, that he quickens his pace and fully presses his mouth to you, tongue tangling with your sensitive bud before nibbling it between his teeth. Your moans and debauched sounds of rapture have never been restrained in this house, your house – and you come with a desperate and enchanting scream befitting the blinding pleasure now electrifying your body.

Kissing up your nightgown and planting loving open mouth kisses to your breasts before letting you taste yourself, Pero licks into your mouth and whispers, “Te amo, mi reina,” before standing back to unlace his pants.

Your mouth waters as you watch your husband free his cock; no matter how many times you’ve taken him in your hands, your mouth, your cunt, you’re still in awe of its size and the things that Pero’s length can do to you. Whenever you feel the stretch of him entering you, you always recall the first time and how gentle he was as he pushed in. When you remember the tenderness in his voice and face as he made sure you were comfortable, putting your pleasure before his – your heart always blooms with overflowing love for this man. How did you get so lucky? Pero would of course always say that he’s the lucky one, and then show you just how deep his affection for you runs by thrusting with intensity, punching that spot inside that makes you see stars, over and over – the exact way he’s doing so now. “¡Cómo te amo, Pero!” you whimper again and again, and by the way he continues to drive into you, you know he believes you. Folding himself over you so that he can bury his face into your neck and nip at the delicate spot at the base, Pero's pants and groans have you arching your back and fisting his hair just for something to hold on to lest you float away.

“I’m close, Dulce. Come with me,” Pero growls, snaking a hand between your bodies and finding your clit with ease. Drawing quick circles over your swollen nub, you feel the coil beneath your belly tighten and tighten until it snaps and you throw you head back chanting your husband’s name as you fall over the cliff. Not far behind, Pero’s pace falters before he spills into you with a long and low grunt in your ear that shoots straight to where you’re joined as one.

Weak, limp and perfectly satisfied, you let Pero pull you into a sitting position and kiss him deeply and sweetly as both of your breaths start to even, the heaving of your chests slowing in unison.

Forehead resting against yours, Pero catches your still dazed eyes and gives a small nod towards the papers that had been pushed aside and forgotten, “Dulce, I’ve been charged with accompanying His Majesty’s naval fleet to Naples, Italy. Would you join me?”

Smiling because you know he already knows the answer, you nod, “Of course, mi amor. I’ll start making the necessary arrangements today.”

Pero tilts his head, eyes soft and reassuring, “Are you okay with leaving? We will have only been home for a few short months.”

Cupping your husband’s face in your hands, you gaze adoringly into his eyes, “My home is where you are, Pero.”

Pero closes his eyes and pulls you flush against him, with him still softening inside you, you’re as close as two people can be. He tips your face to his and whispers, “You’re my home, Dulce,” and all you can do is sigh in unsurpassable happiness as he presses his lips to yours once again.

I've never done a tag list before so please let me know if it doesn't work, or you don't/do want to be on it, or it sets your phone on fire 😅 @drewharrisonwriter @inept-the-magnificent @tuquoquebrute @stcrrjoon @anoverwhelmingdin

@callsignmedusa @wintersquirrel @toobsessedsstuff @starwarslover-81 @la-vie-est-une-fleur29

#pero tovar #regency!pero tovar #bridgerton au #pero tovar fic #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar smut #pero tovar series #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar x reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #no y/n

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lucysarah-c · 1 year ago

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I would like you very much to talk about the girlfriend effect on Levi's fashion

The man has zero sense on it it's actually hurt

The way I squealed when I read this ask. I was like that TikTok sound of “OH MY GOODNESSI LOVE THIS QUESTION! I THINK..!”

*Deep sigh* Anon, you're absolutely right; it's time we face the truth about Levi's sense of style – it's hideous. Have you witnessed those panels of him in the Uprising arc with a T-shirt on top of a long-sleeve shirt? I mean, seriously, it's like, "You're lucky I adore you, Levi…"

Now, let's establish some basics. We can't delve into the "girlfriend effect" without first acknowledging Levi's life as a man. I hate to break it to many of us, but Levi is, indeed, a man – raised by Kenny, no less. Levi values cleanliness and practicality. To sum up Levi's approach to broad topics: cheap, pragmatic, and straightforward. The only exceptions to this rule are tea and cleaning. Levi grew up in poverty, so he won't waste a single penny on face cream, even if you harass him. As an example, there's a "game" that was only available, I believe, in Japan, that had side stories, and Levi literally told Erwin he wasted too much money on "pointless" stuff like hair pomade…

Levi doesn't buy much furniture, treats for his body, clothes – anything, really. I'd even venture to say he might get some of his clothes from donations. He saves his money for tea… and tea sets.

And here's where the girlfriend comes into the picture. It starts subtly; she spends a night in his personal chambers and suggests bringing in new pillows, curtains, furniture, scented candles, and bathroom appliances for her stuff. Then the full transformation happens.

Levi, pale as ever, refuses to wear sunscreen like any man would. “I'm trying to look after you!" she would insist while running her hand through his face; he's not pleased. He hates the sticky feeling, but it's just the beginning. He pretends to dislike it, but he falls asleep so easily when his face is on her legs, and she's giving him a face massage with a full face glam, mask, and gua sha.

"You have to use it like this, against the hair movement, to create volume so your hair doesn't stick to your scalp," she says, applying molding wax to his hair to give it more volume. Skincare routine? Check. Lip balms? Check. Hairstyles? Check. Personal chambers now looking comfy and homey? Double-check.

And finally, the clothes. He's against it at first, always in uniform, so why bother? But she explains how proportions and colors can make him look taller, and he's tempted to tell her he doesn't care. However, her puppy eyes beg him to wear what she chose.

The result? Levi, who once dressed like a pre-teen from the 2000s, transforms into a model. The LOOKS? He goes out with the vets for a few beers on a day off, and MPs are turning around; even Erwin is surprised. He's supposed to be the high maintenance of the group, not Levi! This transformation becomes the main giveaway that Levi is dating. Glowing skin, glass-like complexion, perfectly cut and smooth hair with ideal volume.

The cherry on top? Suddenly, he's taking days off, going out more, and knows a lot about which restaurants are "not that bad," all while dressing like a Vogue cover.

The only disadvantage? Now he has his pockets full of lip glosses, napkins, hand cream, etc. Women's clothes don't have pockets. How is he supposed to explain to the MPs when they ask for a pen, and he pulls out a pink, glittery lip gloss from his pocket? Not everything is an upside.

I ADORED this question! I hope the answer is somehow what you had in mind! Thank you so so much for sending this.

I hope you and your loved ones are doing great today and stay safe!

Lots of love!

Tags!: @nmlkys @jimoonbeau @fictiondrunk @notgoodforlife @nube55 @justkon @i-literally-cant-with-this @darkstarlight82 @thoreeo @quillinhand @humanitys-strongest-bamf Wanna join my tag list? Here!

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nicoline1998enilocin · 2 months ago

Text

Kinktober Day 1 || Morning Sex

PAIRING || Baker!Boyfriend!Tony Stark x Girlfriend!Fem!Reader

WORDCOUNT || 2.2K

SUMMARY || Tony had a rather spicy dream about you and can’t wait to have you exactly the way he dreamt of. It’s a good thing you’re just as needy for him as he is for you because he’s not letting you go, especially when you two have an entire day ahead of yourselves where you can do nothing but bring pleasure to one another.

RATING || Explicit (E)

TAGS || Baker!Tony Stark. No Powers AU. Baker AU. Established relationship. Explicit sexual content. Crying after sex.

SMUT || Porn with plot. Tony has a short refractory period. Morning wood. Morning sex. Rough sex. Daddy kink. Breeding kink. Belly bulge. Dirty talk. Degradation. Praise. Light teasing. Begging. Manhandling. Backscratching. Oral (F receiving). Overstimulation. Squirting. Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!). Creampie. Multiple orgasms. Cockwarming. Aftercare.

A/N || This one-shot is proofread by the amazing @ccbsrmsf1. As soon as I started writing this, I started with a rather... tame idea, but I'm also happy it evolved into the smutty, horny mess you're about to read. Please have fun with this story; I know I did when writing it! 🤍

All graphics are made by @nicoline1998enilocin

Main Masterlist || Tony Stark || Baker!Tony Stark || Kinktober 2024

It promises to be a slow, easygoing morning as the sun brightens your boyfriend’s bedroom. You’re wearing nothing more than flimsy panties, and Tony is clad in just his boxer briefs as you’re curled against his side. Since you two moved in together, you cannot get enough of each other, and this morning won’t be any different.

Tony is the first to wake up this time. He kisses your head softly before attempting to wiggle out of your grasp to give little Oliver - the cat - his breakfast.

“Hmm, five more minutes,” you groan as you pull yourself tighter against his warm, muscled body, making him chuckle at your antics.

“How about this - I’ll go feed our little Devil, and when I come back, I make it all up to you by making love to my girl? Been dreaming of your sweet, sweet nectar, and I would love nothing more than a little taste before fucking you completely senseless,” he says, and you let out a soft whimper at his proposition.

“M’kay, but I’m not letting you go for a while after you return. We have the day off, and I wasn’t planning on leaving the bed today,” you tell him with a pout as you look up at him. He smiles before leaning in and kissing it away, and you smile shyly when he looks into your eyes.

“I love you,” he whispers before getting up, and you fall back onto your pillow with a soft grunt. Your gaze is focused on Tony’s butt as he walks around the bed, and you can see he’s still hard from the dream he had about you. You lick your lips as Tony walks through the door, his perfect, round butt highlighted beautifully in his tight boxer briefs.

“I can feel you staring, Peach!” Tony calls out as he turns the corner, but he doesn’t mind you looking at him like that - he has told you before that he enjoys every second of attention you’re giving him.

Oliver patiently sits on his cat tower, waiting for Tony to come into the living room and feed him his breakfast. With a soft meow, he jumps into Tony’s arms, ready to be carried to the kitchen like the prince he is.

“Good morning, Buddy. How did you sleep?” Tony asks as he scratches his cat between his ears. Oliver’s eyes close as he feels content in his owner’s arms.

“Are you enjoying Peach living with us now, huh? I know I am,” Tony continues as he fills the little food bowl. Oliver stares at Tony’s every move, ensuring he gets all his food.

“I’ve been thinking of proposing to her already, but I don’t know if it’s too soon. It probably is, though, right? God, I’m head over heels in love with her. She’s the best thing to have happened to me together with you,” Tony whispers as he nuzzles his face into Oliver’s soft fur.

With a soft meow, he lets Tony know he wants him to let go, and he does before placing his bowl on the floor, letting him eat in peace as he quickly turns around to join you in the bed again; he’s been dreaming about you, and he can’t wait to bury his face between your thighs again.

“Guess who-” is all he can bring out as he walks in the door. You’re lying on your stomach without the comforter covering you, so your butt is perfectly on display for Tony to see. You wiggle it a few times to tease your boyfriend, and he’s already achingly hard in his underwear.

“Don’t tease me like that, Peach,” he grunts as he walks over to the bed in long, quick steps - the door falling shut behind him. Before you know it, your thong is ripped from your body, and Tony has pulled you on your hands and knees with a deep groan. You can feel yourself getting wetter with every passing second, and he doesn’t waste a single moment as he buries his tongue in your pussy.

“F-fuck! Feels so good, Daddy,” you moan out as you clench your fists in the sheets, your hips rutting against his face as he licks and slurps every last drop of your arousal, his hands clenching onto your thighs to ensure you’re not going anywhere.

“Such a sweet pussy for me, Peach, so fucking delicious,” he grunts as he brings you to your high that’s quickly approaching. As he builds up yours, he can feel his orgasm building, too, without even touching himself. The pleasure he brings you is enough for him to cum in his underwear, groaning against your pussy as he does.

“Fuck, just came for you, Peach! Came in my underwear like a fucking teenager because your pussy is too fucking good to me,” he pants, his tongue pleasuring your clit as you’re dangerously close to the edge, too.

“Daddy, please! ‘M close!” you exclaim, and with a few well-aimed licks over your clit you fall apart on his tongue, and he licks up every last drop of your arousal. Your legs are trembling immensely as he works you through it, and your arms have given out from the intensity of your orgasm. Shocks are going through your body as Tony nurses on your sensitive clit, but you never want him to stop - not when he makes you feel this good.

However, when the overstimulation becomes too much, you wiggle yourself out of his hold before collapsing onto the bed. You’re panting loudly, and your heart rate is through the roof, and you haven’t even felt Tony’s cock inside you yet. He’s planning on ruining you, and this was only the start.

“My God, Peach, your pussy is still the sweetest I’ve ever tasted,” he says as he crawls over your body, his hand gripping your jaw carefully before crashing his lips onto yours, allowing you to taste every last bit of your arousal that coats his tongue.

You man into his mouth, turning Tony on even further, and he’s already teetering on the edge of going feral. He doesn’t need much to snap, and you’re willing to play with that edge until he tips over, and he uses you exactly like he wants, as if you’re nothing more than a fleshlight for him to pump his seed into.

You’ve only seen him this far gone once before and want to see if you can finally get him over the edge.

“Fuck me, Daddy, please. Fuck me like I’m nothing more than a hole for you to use; you know I’m not made of glass. Fuck me in whichever position you want, and pump me full with every drop of your cum. I want you to ruin me, Daddy,” you beg him, and you can see his demeanor change. His pupils take entirely over the brown of his irises, and based on a tick of his jaw, you can see he needs one more little push.

“I need you to fuck a baby into me, Daddy,” you tell him as you show him your sweetest doe eyes, and that’s when he loses every last bit of his self-control.

“Yeah? Does my slut need to have her hole stuffed, huh? You need Daddy to fuck you so hard you can’t walk for days?” he asks, and all you can do is whimper in response as he takes off his underwear, his cock still sticky from his earlier orgasm, but he doesn’t care.

Tony’s cock is achingly hard as it’s standing upright between his thighs, the tip looking angry as you see a bead of pre-cum dribbling down and onto his shaft. The veins on his shaft are pulsing, and your mouth is watering at the thought of every inch of it fucking you deep and hard.

Without saying a single word, Tony pulls you towards him by your ankle, and he folds you in half to expose your puffy, dripping pussy to him. He grabs hold of his cock, and he lets it glide through your folds a few times as you moan loudly.

“D-Daddy!” you exclaim as he lines up with your entrance, shoving it in without a single warning. The pace he sets is not even human anymore, and his groans, combined with your broken moans, add to your shared arousal. The way his hips slap against yours has your back arching, his cock hitting your sweet spot with every thrust.

“Take it like the good slut you are; you’re nothing more than a fucking hole to shove my cock into, are you? Yeah, you enjoy being treated like a cumslut for Daddy, telling me to fuck a baby into you. God, I will stuff you so fucking full with my cum you won’t be able to hold it all in, and when it’s dripping out, I’ll fuck it right back in with my fingers until you’re fucking pregnant with my baby.”

He puts his hand on your belly and pushes down slightly where he can see his cock, adding to the pleasure he’s making you feel right now. Your jaw is slack, and your brows are knitted together as the pleasure builds rapidly. The feeling is familiar yet strange at the same time, and before you know it, you cum with a scream of his name as your nails run down his back, leaving deep red marks in the process.

“DADDY!” you exclaim, and your pussy clenches hard as you squirt over the sheets and your boyfriend, effectively pushing his cock out in the process. He quickly rubs your clit to prolong your orgasm, turning it into the most prominent and longest orgasm of your life. You can’t help but moan through the entirety of it, but before you can catch your breath, Tony impales you again on his cock, setting the same brutal pace as his high is quickly approaching, too.

“That’s it, you’re taking my cock like you’re made for it! Such a tight pussy for me to fill with my cum. ‘M gonna make you my little creampuff; that’s what you want, right? Me fucking my cream into your tight, sweet pussy until you’re a creampuff that’s leaking with my seed?” Tony asks as he changes his pace to quick, short, deep thrusts.

“Y-Yes, Daddy,” you croak out, and before you know it, Tony’s thrusts falter and then stop as he cums deep in your pussy, holding you close as his face is nuzzled in your neck. Both of you are panting as you’re coming down from whatever just happened, and Tony rolled onto his back while still being buried inside you.

“Such a good girl for me; I love you so much, my sweet Peach,” he whispers, and you can feel a tear rolling down your cheek as you lay on his chest. Not because you regret what happened but because the emotions have become too much for a moment. You’ve been through a rollercoaster of them, and now they all come out simultaneously.

“Shhh, it’s okay. I’m here with you, Babygirl; nothing can happen to you,” he soothes you, his large hands running comfortingly over your back as you let go of your emotions for now. Long, hard sobs wreck through your boy, but he keeps whispering sweet nothings as he soothes you.

After a short while, you stopped crying, and your breathing evened out, which let Tony know you fell asleep on top of him. After about 30 minutes, he gently wakes you, letting you know it’s time for a bath and some lunch.

“You can get settled in the bath, and I’ll whip up something easy for lunch. After, I promise we can stay in bed the entire day and cuddle with little Oliver - how does that sound?” Tony asks, making you nod in response. Unable to say anything, you happily allow Tony to care for you.

As soon as you sit in the warm water of the bath that Tony has prepared for you, a content groan leaves your lips as your body's sore muscles relax in the water's warmth. You’ll struggle with walking for a few days, but it’s all worth it. You’re not sure how much time has passed since Tony left to get you a few sandwiches, a bowl of your favorite fruits, and two bottles of water, but you’re more than happy when he slides into the warm water with you.

“C’mere hot mama,” he says once he’s comfortable, and you happily sit down in his lap, allowing him to feed you sandwiches and fruit between sips of water. There’s a comfortable silence between your two; it’s not awkward but more comforting as you enjoy each other and the moment. When you’re done with your bath and dried off, Tony puts his oversized hoodie and a pair of sweatpants on you before picking you up and dropping you onto the bed, making you giggle.

“I think it’s time to let our little Devil in here as well; I believe he’s getting a little impatient,” Tony chuckles after putting on a pair of sweats, and as soon as the bedroom door swings open, Oliver runs in and jumps on the bed, ready for cuddles with you and Tony.

“Hi, Baby! I missed you!” you tell him, and he curls up in his lap as he purrs loudly. You’re feeling very content as you allow Tony to care for you the best way he knows - by giving you every ounce of love and undivided attention he possibly can.

#kinktober 2024 #tony stark #tony stark fluff #tony stark smut #tony stark x reader #tony stark x female reader #tony stark x y/n #tony stark fanfiction

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flowerandblood · 10 months ago

Text

The Doubt & The Delight

[ modern Frollo • Aemond x Esmeralda • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, oral sex, smut, angst, description of physical and mental disabilities, remorse, depression, hysteria attacks, swearing, trauma, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt ]

[ description: After a car accident, his brother has to deal with the consequences of what happened, and he, as his protector, does not know how to help him. His sister comes up with the idea of hiring someone as his carer who will be able to cheer him up and occupy his mind. It turns out, however, that the girl he hired charmed not only his younger brother. Obsession, self-destructive behavior, verbal and physical aggression, sexual tension, dark, malicious Aemond. ]

Author's note: This story is a request, but I decided to freely use what I liked in the book and Disney film to create a new, disturbing story taking place in modern times. It is intended to be uncomfortable and will contain scenes that are at least morally questionable, in my version "Esmeralda" is not Romanian. This story will also include motifs from Jane Eyre, which was a separate request. My story will also touch on the problems of people with disabilities, so if these are sensitive topics for you, I advise against reading further. You have been warned.

Part 1 − The Knight & The Judge Part 2 − The Sin & The Penance Epilogue

Main Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

This is the last part of this story. Thank you all for such a nice reception of this entire mini-series, it was supposed to be a oneshot, but as usual it turned out to be something more! This is probably one of my favorite works here and I can't wait to hear your opinions.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous chapters: Masterlist

_____

That night, after what had happened between them, he sobbed silently for the first time since the day of the accident in which his parents died. He didn't know what else he could do − he felt helpless and couldn't sleep, despair completely possessing his heart and mind.

Don't ever touch me again.

We are even.

He clenched his eyelids, letting the tears run down the sides of his face onto the pillow lying under his head.

Some part of him wanted to go to her door, to fall to his knees and beg her to open it for him, to let him hold her close, to fall asleep in her embrace.

He needed her so much, but he knew he had no right to demand anything from her.

She was doing more than she had to anyway.

He shuddered as he heard the sound of the door opening; stupefied by the sedatives and painkillers for a moment he had no idea where he was or who he was − he raised himself up on his elbow and hissed, feeling his head ache incredibly.

He opened his eyelids and immediately closed them, blinded by the light from the windows − he gave up with a sigh laying back on the couch, trying to calm himself down.

"Daeron?" He called out loudly, trying to remember what had happened, whether he had drunk too much alcohol the evening before or overdosed on sleeping pills.

He heard someone's footsteps and froze when he saw her frightened face; she came towards him with her eyes wide open as if looking at a ghost, stopping at a safe distance.

"− I'm just helping him change, we'll come soon − God, how pale you are, should I call the doctor again? −" She muttered clearly genuinely horrified by his condition, but he shook his head quickly.

"− did you call the police yesterday? −" He asked lowly, thinking with horror that no one at the prosecutor's office could find out that he was still struggling with his trauma and had almost caused a car crash.

She shook her head quickly, playing with the fingers of her hand in a nervous gesture.

"− n-no − the man we almost collided with wanted to do it at first, but when we got out of the car and said you'd fainted he called an ambulance and let it go − he apparently decided you'd just had some sort of attack and didn't want to add to our problems −" She replied once looking him in the eye, once looking away − he could see that she clearly wasn't coping with the situation or what had happened between them.

He sighed in relief, running his hand over his face, thinking about the fact that securing Daeron's fate was now his priority and he needed to pull himself together.

"− I'm going to go help Daeron and we'll make something for breakfast soon −" She said quickly and turned away, moving down the corridor towards his little brother's room, disappearing behind the door.

The two of them had tried not to look at each other all morning, heartbroken and horrified by what had happened between them − they both felt that their lives had slipped out of their control and he resented himself for dragging her into it all.

The doctors advised him to stay at home for a few days and rest, so he called Alys to ask her to bring him his documentation.

"− sick leave? − something happened? −" She asked concerned, and he sighed heavily, tightening his fingers on the base of his nose, not having the strength for this discussion.

"− I've been overworking lately, I need to slow down − can I count on you? −" He asked matter-of-factly, hearing her snort of amusement on the other side.

"− sure − I'll be there in half an hour −" She replied calmly and hung up; he sighed heavily, running his hand over his face and put the phone down on the table top.

He glanced over his shoulder, hearing the sizzle of the pan and shuddered meeting her gaze − she lowered her eyes immediately as if caught in the act, concentrating on not burning the pancakes, Daeron wheeled around her in his wheelchair placing clean plates and cutlery beside her.

They ate breakfast together, both of them really only talking to Daeron, passing cups and juice to each other out of politeness only. He felt a pleasant shudder when his fingers touched hers, looking her straight in the eyes − her lower lip twitched a little, only a quiet, sad thank you came out of her mouth.

As they ate Daeron said he would do his own homework and then change her to look after him, as if he was now the one to take on the role of his caretaker.

As he left his Esmeralda stood up, picking up the dirty dishes from the countertop − he took his plate from her hand, swallowing hard.

"− no need, I'll do it − I'm better now, I don't want to force you to stay here any longer than necessary − thank you very much −" He said in a low voice, getting up from his seat and stepping around her, opening the dishwasher with a light movement, tossing in the cutlery and other dirty dishes she'd held earlier.

He felt her looking at him, his heart pounding like crazy, for some reason he wanted to cry again.

"− I'm sorry − for what happened yesterday −" She muttered in a whisper and he raised his shocked gaze to her, frozen still.

She stood in front of him covering her mouth with her hand, trying to silence the loud, ragged breath that shook her body along with the sob that wanted to break from her throat, tears began to fall from the corners of her eyes one after another.

God, she was remorseful.

"− no − no, stop − you didn't do anything wrong, I wanted it −" He said quickly, but she shook her head.

"− I couldn't sleep − I felt awful −" She uttered with difficulty, choking on her own tears, and despite her telling him never to touch her again he put his arm around her waist and pulled her to him in one sure movement − her body did not put up any resistance to him, her fingers tightened on his sweatshirt in a helpless gesture.

"− I-I'm sorry − I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you −" She mumbled out and burst into quiet sobs.

He thought with despair that he had broken this poor girl, brought her to a state where she felt like an abuser.

He embraced her tightly, snuggling his face into the hollow of her neck, stroking her back reassuringly − her wonderful scent and the warmth of her body had a soothing effect on him, he thought he wanted to remember this moment for a lifetime.

"− I'm the one who hurt you − I took something away from you and you tried to get it back − you asked me if I wanted it and I made it clear that I did − easy − breathe deeply − it's all right −" He whispered in a trembling voice, running his large hand through her back and hair. She snuggled into him so tightly that he felt tears under his eyelids himself − he pressed his lips together not wanting to let them flow out but it was no use.

"− thank you for everything − I'm feeling better now, I'll be fine by the time Helaena arrives − go home and get some rest − I'll think of something and explain to Daeron why you can't work for us anymore − I'll send you your pay by transfer so you never have to see me again − hm? −" He asked softly and she only nodded, her whole chest trembling in convulsion as she drew in a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

He wanted to tell her that he loved her.

He wanted to tell her that she was the most wonderful person he had ever met.

He wanted to tell her that if she ever needed help, she could always count on him.

He wanted to do that, but he only flinched when he heard the doorbell ring, reminding himself of Alys − they moved away looking at each other in pain, the sight of her wiping her cheeks red from tears broke his heart.

He realised that he was a monster.

As soon as he opened the gate for her, Alys walked into his house with thick folders of documents in her hands, looking elegant as usual in her jacket, long trousers and high heels. She smiled at the sight of his Esmeralda, and she pressed her lips together realising with horror that she stood dressed only in his hoodie.

"Good morning. We don't know each other yet." Alys said to her and held out her hand to her − she, not knowing what to do, herself embarrassed by the situation and how it looked shook her hand, squeezing it firmly.

"Good morning." She muttered and just threw to him that she was going to go see how Daeron was doing with his homework − Alys led her away with her eyes looking at her with a calm, curious expression on her face.

"Who is this beautiful little flower? In addition wearing your hoodie I think." She asked amused, a note of mock accusation in her voice, as if she had solved the equation. "Is it because of her that you can't concentrate lately?"

He threw her one warning, sharp look, which did not deter her, however − he sighed heavily and shook his head.

"She's Daeron's caretaker and she had to stay here to help me take care of him after I fainted yesterday. They were at a carnival ball together and she had nothing to change into." He replied coolly, wanting to end the subject quickly, frustrated.

"Is that why you both cried?" She asked lowly raising an eyebrow, the piercing look in her bright green eyes told him clearly that she felt the tension that hung in the air between them. He swallowed loudly, looking away, not wanting to look at her smile full of satisfaction.

"Thank you for bothering to come all the way out here. I'll be gone for a week, we're in touch." He replied dryly − she threw over his shoulder that if he needed her for anything he could count on her and smiled at his Esmeralda heading for the exit, saying it was a pleasure to meet her.

As the door closed behind her there was an awkward silence between them. He saw that she was wearing his hoodie and shorts that were too loose on his brother but on her they fit perfectly despite the manly cut, in her hand she held the bag with her costume.

She was leaving.

He will never see her again.

"Are you sure you can manage?" She asked uncertainly, not looking at him. She seemed pale to him, he thought that for some reason Alys' visit had saddened her, but he didn't even dare assume it might have had anything to do with him.

At most, she might have thought he was a bigger bastard and pervert than she suspected.

"Yes, we'll be fine. Thanks again." He muttered, trying not to look at her, but to poor effect, thinking only of how wonderful it was to hold her in his arms, how tightly she snuggled into him seeking refuge and comfort.

He realised that he craved such closeness from her as much as the touch of her naked body.

He wasn't just about sex.

She, however, merely nodded, raising her sad, tired, embittered gaze at him once more, and after a moment she turned and disappeared behind the door.

The hours leading up to Helaena's arrival he spent with Daeron, playing together FIFA'23 and other games that his brother thought would distract him from all the unpleasant events of the past weeks.

"Don't worry, everything will be fine. You just need to rest. It's good that you and Esmeralda have reconciled." He said clicking beside him on his pad, trying to win a race against him on the big space track. He swallowed hard, thinking with pain and shame that they hadn't reconciled at all, that they weren't even.

What she did was a desperate attempt by her to regain what he had taken from her, the feeling that she had power over her own body.

It didn't bring her any relief though − it seemed to him that it made her feel even worse.

She wasn't like him − she'd probably never behaved like this before, and she was horrified to find that she didn't recognise herself.

He had destroyed her, taken away her innocence, devoured her.

He pressed his lips together, trying to stop the burning tears that forced their way under his eyelids from flowing and grunted loudly, trying to focus on the game.

As he prepared the room where his sister was to sleep, and where his Esmeralda had previously spent the night, he noticed a purple cloth lying on the floor. He reached out and picked it up, realising after a moment that it was a scarf she had worn on her head in the form of a headband.

He pressed it to his face and closed his eyes, with a squeeze in his throat thinking that the material was permeated with her scent.

He kept it.

Helaena had arrived straight from the airport in a taxi for which she had paid crores − as soon as she stepped inside she dropped her suitcase, ran up to him and threw herself into his arms. He burst out sobbing, feeling her familiar, tender closeness.

He wasn't sure when was the last time someone had hugged him, stroked him, told him everything was going to be alright, that now he was the one being taken care of.

Taking the opportunity that Daeron was playing in his room on his laptop, they sat side by side on the living room couch to discuss what had happened.

"I think I've stopped coping. I'm slowly losing my self-control." He muttered, burying his face in his hands, feeling that he needed to at least partially throw off what was going on inside his head − he felt his sister stroking his back comfortingly.

"Me and Aegon left you alone with all of this, sinking into our own grief. We all focused on Daeron because we decided you were older and better able to handle it all." She said with pain and some kind of regret, as if she only now realised that he wasn't a fully formed adult then either.

He let the air out of his lungs, feeling like a small, clumsy child again, embarrassed that he wasn't coping, that he had chaos in his head, that he was stuck and unable to get out of the mess he had sunk all the way into.

"I thought it would be good for you to have a change. For you and Daeron to fly with me for a few weeks, get some rest, during which time we can work together to find you some sort of therapist, someone to help you get over all this." She said warmly, and he shook his head quickly, terrified of her suggestion, of having to reinvent himself somewhere, of not being in his home, of not having his things and activities.

"No, I can't do that. I need a rest, but here, at home. I do think, however, that it will do Daeron good to spend time with you, to get away from it all. Maybe when I have a bit of time to myself I can somehow…sort it all out." He muttered, feeling her worried gaze on him.

"You shouldn't be left alone."

"I haven't been alone with my thoughts for five years. I need this." He said regretfully, realising that he had devoted all his strength to his younger brother, leaving himself with nothing.

He felt empty.

"And he needs a change of environment. He sees me gloomy and tired every day. You will help me the most if you take care of him for a week or two so that I can get myself in order."

"You have to promise me that you will go to therapy. You're taking on too much on your shoulders." She said cautiously, and he nodded to her, wanting everyone to finally give him a break.

Daeron was at the same time happy about the sudden unplanned holiday, but on the other hand very worried that he was going to be left alone at home.

"But who will take care of you? Esmeralda?" He asked hesitantly, and he replied that he would manage on his own, that they would talk on the phone every day, that he just needed a bit of rest to think things over.

As they packed to leave he was with them in body, but not in thoughts which drifted far away to her, to what had happened between them.

Despite the fact that they had sex with each other twice, it was the memory of that morning in his kitchen when he held her in his embrace that he remembered most, the innocence and tenderness of that gesture, the warmth of her body, the smell of her hair, the fact that for a moment she had allowed him to get close to her.

He knew he would never see her again.

Waving them off, already seated in the taxi, watching them drive away he wondered what the point of living such a terrible person like him was.

He cleaned the whole house, sorted the papers in his office, put up the laundry and emptied the dishwasher, doing everything unhurriedly with complete silence all around him, only the sound of the wind outside the windows and the quiet pounding of raindrops against the windowsills.

He finally sat down on the sofa, staring dully ahead, before lowering his gaze to the small container of sleeping pills he'd been taking for days to get at least a few hours of sleep.

He wondered how many he'd have to swallow to not wake up.

He didn't know why his hand reached for his phone − his fingers tapped out a question on Google and, to his surprise, many different topics on forums about how to commit suicide painlessly popped up.

He read statements from some young, desperate, frightened people who couldn't cope with life and responses from others, some encouraging them to commit the act and explaining how to do it, others asking them not to do it, that they would be happy to talk to them, to support them through this difficult time.

He thought of Daeron, of how if he had done it, his little brother would have completely broken down, that it would only add to the pain of his whole family, and that Helaena would never forgive herself for leaving him alone.

That it would have been selfish of him.

On the other hand, his mind reminded him of his aggressive, merciless interrogations, the way he approached witnesses, the way he approached Alys, what he did to his Esmeralda when she recognised at once his malicious, dark nature.

How was someone like him supposed to continue to take care of Daeron? How was he supposed to pretend that he was a good man who could advise him on anything, be his authority?

He thought that his little brother should have stayed with Helaena − she was the calmest of them all, surely she would have handled his parenting much better, given him what he needed.

He reached for a small container of pills and stared at it, turning it between his fingers with a loud rattle, wondering dispassionately what he should do with himself.

He hummed as if he remembered something and slipped his hand into the pocket of his trousers, pulling out a thin, purple folded cloth − he looked at it, feeling the need to call her.

He didn't know why he would do that when he was sure she didn't want to see him and couldn't even look at Daeron, to whom he would have to explain why she would no longer be taking care of him upon his return.

He guessed that she would only pick up out of politeness, and he would again flood her with his problems, his suicidal thoughts, forcing her to worry about him, to feel sorry for him even though he didn't deserve her sympathy.

He didn't even know when he unscrewed the container, when he tilted his head and poured its entire contents into his mouth, taking a deep sip of water after this, letting his judgment of himself run deep into his stomach.

He seemed to regain his sanity only after a moment, staring at the empty vessel wondering what he had actually done.

Oh fuck.

God, what had he done?

No, no, no, no.

He went into a complete panic, his heart started pounding like crazy − he didn't know how much time he had before he lost consciousness, so in a gesture of helplessness he dialled her number quickly, wondering if she would answer from him this time.

He thought he was pathetic, but he was scared, there was no one else to turn to − his body was shaking all over from stress and terror, his breathing quick and raspy, tears of fear in his eyes.

Biip.

"− hello? −"

He heard her uncertain voice on the other side and drew in the air loudly, shocked, swallowing hard, taking a deep breath, running his hand over his face.

"− fuck − I − I − I did something very, very stupid − I took a whole packet of sleeping pills − I don't know what came over me − oh fuck, what have I done −" He muttered in a squeaky, high-pitched voice, like a helpless child who had broken a vase and realised what his parent would do to him when they found out.

"− what? − oh God − are you home? − I'm calling the ambulance −"

"− n-no − no, fuck, they'll kick me out of the national prosecutor's office − please −"

"− go quickly to the bathroom and try to induce vomiting − give me the code to your gate, I'll be right there −"

He seemed to act in an amok, as he rose from the couch everything around him swirled − she told him to take his phone to the restroom, so he did.

He fell to his knees in front of the toilet, shoving two fingers down his throat − after several attempts he finally threw up, whooping with his tears, coughing loudly, his whole body shaking in convulsions, his heart pounding like mad in his chest.

How could he do this, how could he be so selfish?

"− I'm sorry −" He mumbled, sliding slowly to the ground, feeling his mind begin to envelope in a blissful peace and quiet, her voice coming from the speaker of his phone seemed to him only a distant whisper.

He thought he would take a nap for a while, rest and when he woke up everything would be fine.

It seemed to him that minutes, hours or years might have passed when he felt someone move his body − he shuddered as someone's fingers forced their way between his lips, his numb body powerless to resist.

"− come on, please − get it out of you − God, what have you done − please, please, come on −" He heard her crying beside him, the tips of her fingers pressing against the back of his tongue, until finally his stomach convulsed with a powerful spasm, and his body threw it all out with his throaty cough of exertion.

He heard her sobs, smelled her scent, her closeness, how her hands washed his face with water, how she stroked his head as she hugged him to her breasts, mumbling in despair that he was a fool, something warm and soft enveloped them.

He fell asleep, recognising that this was what heaven must have been like.

When he woke up he felt everything around him spinning − he muttered in displeasure, another cramp squeezing his stomach.

He pulled himself up, in the dark looking for the toilet, at the last moment leaning over it and vomited again, panting loudly, everything around him blurred, it seemed to him that it was morning.

He heard movement beside him − someone's hand touched his back and stroked him with a gentle, affectionate gesture as convulsion again shook his body, which was trying with all its might to rid itself of what he had swallowed the day before.

Nothing more than a mumble left his mouth, his head drooped involuntarily − he felt someone pull him back to keep him from sliding down onto the tiles. He lay down, something soft enveloped him again.

"− it's okay − sleep −" He heard her whisper and thought that the pills he had taken were causing him to hallucinate, that he was probably dreaming it all, and since he was and she wasn't really there he could embrace her, his arm grabbed her waist, his face snuggled between her breasts again with his loud purr of contentment and exhaustion.

He felt her hands embrace him, stroking his head and back − he thought, feeling the hard floor beneath him, that they were lying in the bathroom and she must have brought the duvet and pillows from his bedroom, sleeping in that room with him.

He fell asleep and woke up hearing someone walking around his house, once in a while someone touched his head − he heard her voice asking him some questions that he was unable to focus on − she was only answered by his frustrated sounds indicating that he just wanted to sleep on.

Finally when he opened his eyes he managed to see anything − the bathroom door was open, the light in the room was off. He had a perfect view of the corridor and part of the living room lit up in the sun − he heard someone's footsteps, his heart jumped into his throat when he saw her silhouette in the doorway.

"− hey − hey, how are you feeling? −" She muttered walking up to him and kneeling beside him, her loose hair in a slight disarray, she was wearing shorts and a plain white Tshirt. He looked away from her breasts when he noticed she wasn't wearing a bra, swallowing hard.

He didn't reply, feeling an overwhelming sense of shame, remembering what he had done, how disgusting and selfish he had acted, that he had forced her to help him again despite having caused her such harm.

"− I − I would like to talk to some therapist −" He choked out with tears in his eyes, not looking at her but somewhere in front of him, his breathing shallow and uneven − it seemed to him as if his lungs had completely clenched.

"− alright − alright, I'll look for someone nearby − okay? −" She asked tentatively and he just nodded, unable to look her in the eye. He heard her get up quickly, and a moment later she was back, sitting down next to him with her phone in her hand, typing something quickly on her screen, apparently scrolling through the accounts of doctors who had offices in the same town.

"− there's a Dr Smith, he's got a free appointment in two days at one o'clock in the afternoon, or a Dr Morgan, but he… −"

"− anyone − as soon as possible −" He said dispassionately, looking blankly ahead, heard her swallow hard and click something quickly, heard his phone vibrate beside him on the floor.

"− I've booked you an appointment and sent you details via message −" She mumbled, and he nodded.

"− thank you − you can −"

"− I spoke to your sister on the phone while you were asleep and told her everything − we agreed that Daeron will stay with her and I'll watch over you until your first appointment −" She said coldly with some kind of regret from which he felt a squeeze in his throat. He pressed his lips together, feeling his body tremble and closed his eyes, wanting to just disappear.

He shuddered, looking at her in disbelief as she slipped her purple scarf out of the pocket of her tracksuit shorts, the same one he'd found on the floor and kept. She tied her hair with it, combing it into a ponytail, staring straight into his eyes.

"I found this on your couch. Did you think of me before you did it?" She asked, with soft, sure flicks of her fingers arranging her curls as she saw fit. He swallowed hard at her question, feeling a burning sense of embarrassment.

"− yes −" He sighed. She let out a quiet breath at his words, placing her hands on her thighs.

"− are you able to get up? ��"

With her help he managed to rise with difficulty − he brushed his teeth feeling the still disgusting taste of vomit and acid on his tongue and then lay down on the sofa, grabbing his head. He watched her silhouetted in the kitchen as she opened the cupboards one by one until she found his first aid kit.

He saw her throw away all the packets of sleeping pills he had.

"− hey −" He threw to her wrinkling his eyebrows, knowing he wouldn't be able to sleep a wink without them.

"− you'd better not speak −" She said warningly, without giving him a single glance, so he gave in, sighing heavily and closing his eyes, figuring there was no point in arguing.

To his surprise she moved around the rooms as if this was her home, sat down next to him at the other end of the sofa with an apple in her hand and turned on the TV as if nothing had happened. He looked at her, wondering if she was really going to sit here for days, but then decided it didn't matter.

When he finally got the phone call from Helaena he listened to almost half an hour of a litany from her about how irresponsible and selfish he was, only to hear a moment later that she loved him very much and that he needed to start taking care of himself − he assured her several times that he already had an appointment with a therapist, and Esmeralda wouldn't leave his side.

"− is that what you call me? −" She asked quietly after he had hung up, looking at the TV screen on which the news had just been airing. He looked at her surprised, realising that it wasn't actually her real name after all.

"− yes −" He replied lowly, playing with his phone between his fingers.

They didn't talk much to each other apart from the usual basic politeness. After a couple of hours he felt well enough to get up − he was still dizzy and still had no appetite, but he drank plenty of water and thought with relief that the danger had passed.

Evening finally fell and, tired after all that had happened, he simply headed upstairs to his bedroom, wanting to give her some solitude and privacy.

Changing into his pyjamas, which consisted of a simple t-shirt and black tracksuit bottoms, he shuddered and looked in disbelief at the door to his room when it opened, her figure stepping inside as if nothing had happened, climbing on his bed, lying under his duvet, turning her back to him.

What?

He pressed his lips together, wondering if he should say something or not, but in the end he couldn't resist.

"What are you doing?"

"I want to sleep. I'm tired. Could you turn out the light?" She asked quietly.

He grunted and, as she requested, walked over to the switch, flicking it, complete darkness fell all around them.

The thought that she was going to sleep in the same bed with him, even if only to keep an eye on him, made him instantly hard.

He lay down at a safer distance behind her, looking at her back and neck, knowing that she could feel his breath, but not daring to touch her.

He wondered if she was punishing him this way, showing him that she was at his fingertips, but after what he had done there was nothing else he could do but watch.

It would have been enough for him if he could have just jerked off looking at her, concentrating on her scent and the fact that she was next to him, but he felt he had no right to bring himself relief after all of this.

He didn't deserve it.

That's why he was just dying in agony, writhing − without his pills despite his fatigue he could not fall asleep, on top of that he was too aroused, her closeness was driving him crazy.

"− will you stop squirming? − I can't sleep −" She muttered at last, raising herself up on her elbow, looking at him with furrowed brows.

He felt his lips part involuntarily in desire at the sight of her face, at the thought that she didn't have a bra under her shirt, that there were her lovely breasts under that material that he could caress all night.

"− sorry −" He just choked out, trying to calm his breathing, his cock pulsed painfully swollen under the material of his sweatpants.

He made big eyes and flinched, embarrassed as she pushed back the duvet that covered them both, her gaze going to his trousers and what was going on inside them.

A tense silence fell between them − he could feel his whole body quivering with desire, grief and shame.

He wondered if she would mock his state and his desperation.

"− we can do it if you want − like civilised people − I'd like to experience some sleep tonight −" She said softly and he looked at her in disbelief, the bulge in his sweatpants twitched hard at her words.

"− are you sure? − I wouldn't −"

"− make me feel good −" She said quietly.

He drew in the air loudly as she said this, grabbing the material of her t-shirt and lifting it, pulling it over her head, revealing her lovely breasts to him.

She sighed loudly when his face immediately pressed against her nipple, alternately sucking and licking it with the tip of his tongue, his fingers digging into the soft skin of her back. She moaned quietly, surprised when he pulled her to him, her palms sliding into his hair, holding him close.

They lay on their sides, embracing each other in a tight grasp. He wriggled in disbelief and delight, willing and eager to show her how much he regretted it, how much he desired her, how much he loved her − his hand grasped tentatively her other breast, kneading it with his fingers.

"− so soft −" He gasped, listening to her quiet sighs of pleasure. He felt her throw her leg against his waist, which he grasped confidently, clenching his fingers on her thigh and pulled her closer, letting her feel how much he wanted her, his manhood throbbed impatiently beneath his trousers, hitting her stomach.

"− how −" He asked between flicks of his tongue licking and sucking her hard, puffy nipple like a little child, stroking the soft skin of her hips. He slipped his hand under the material of her shorts, tracing his fingertips over her plump buttocks, wanting to be sure that this time he would do everything the way she needed it, give her pleasure and reassurance, at the pace and the way she wanted it.

She stroked his hair at his question and placed a short, warm kiss on his forehead − he murmured lowly as he felt her begin to rub against him, encouraging him to do the same, his lips letting go of her nipple with a loud plop to look at her.

"− you on top − but touch me down there first −" She whispered embarrassedly, turning onto her back, pulling his arm behind her, looking at him with a gaze hot with desire and affection.

He leaned in, letting his swollen lips brush hers, which responded immediately to his caress, her fingers cupping his neck, deepening the kiss.

"− mmm −" She hummed, squirming beneath him. He ran his hand down her body, in a tentative, unhurried motion slipping his hand under the material of her shorts, wanting to give her time to react, but she sensing this spread her thighs wider, easing his access, his fingers finally running over her swollen, hot, wet womanhood.

"− God, little one − I want to use my mouth here −" He gasped appreciatively, thinking only of the fact that he had been dreaming of this for weeks. He smiled involuntarily when he saw her nod quickly, her sweet, full lips parted in an accelerated breath.

"− okay −" She whispered quietly, letting him slide the material of her shorts and underwear off her − he marvelled at the sight of her naked body, thinking with some kind of emotion that he felt like crying.

"− so beautiful −" He whispered, placing a gentle kiss on her stomach, on her womb, on her hip, on her thigh, knee and calf. He looked at her and noticed that she was watching him intently, her breasts rising and falling in uneven breaths, her hands on either side of her head.

"− come here −" He murmured softly, in a gentle motion pushing her hips closer to him, spreading them in front of him − he heard her gasp loudly as he leaned over her bared flesh. He let his hot breath envelop her skin before his nose ran over her hot, soft womanhood, his lips lazily clinging to her folds, placing a lingering, sticky kiss on them.

He tightened his hands on her thighs when he felt her throw her head back with a sweet, surprised moan, her fingers traveling to his short hair, stroking it in impatient motion, pressing his face close to her body.

"− please −" She mumbled, and he huffed with amusement, trailing his lips up to her puffy clit, sliding then down to her leaking, swollen slit, teasing her barely, not giving her what she needed.

"− no − we're going to do this very, very slowly − with due respect to you −" He hummed contentedly, feeling some kind of pride that he could do it this way, could give it to her and be what she needed.

She whimpered softly, writhing before him, her breathing quickened and shuddered, her body trembling in his hands, thirsting for fulfilment.

"− don't be cruel −" She mumbled resentfully, as if she thought he was teasing and taunting her. He sighed quietly, placing a warm, hot kiss on her sticky skin − a surprised, loud moan escaped her lips as the tip of his tongue suddenly forced its way inside her, deeper and deeper with each stroke, imposing an intense, fast pace on her.

"− o-oh fuck, yes, lick me −" She mewled, clenching her fingers in his hair, bucking her hips against his face, trying to find a more intense source of rubbing. He smirked under his breath as he discovered after a moment between her fleshy muscles the spot he was looking for, her whines increasingly pathetic and helpless, her walls beginning to throb around his tongue.

He heard her whimper his name, her whole body tensed as if she was trying to break away from him, but he didn't stop, letting her come on his face.

He purred contentedly as he felt how much of her moisture flowed out of her tight entrance, determined to make sure he licked every drop and not let anything go to waste despite her cries.

He surprised her when he didn't pull away, but repeated all the steps from the beginning, slowing his pace again, merely teasing her with his lips, her body twitching at his every move, overstimulated and delicate.

"− n-no more − I want you inside me −" She mumbled softly, and he looked up at her, licking his lips with his tongue, feeling her words in his trousers.

Even though he planned to spend the whole night between her thighs, he couldn't refuse such a request.

"− it's okay − there you go −" He hummed, rising to his knees, slipping his sweatpants down just enough to release his swollen, hard erection leaking from his precum. He placed one hand next to her head, the other guiding the fat, pink head of his cock between her widely spread thighs.

"− such a good girl − hm? − my sweet little baby, am I right? −" He cooed and she nodded quickly, looking at him with big eyes hazed with desire − it seemed to him that she didn't recognise him, that she didn't believe he was the same man she had met then.

He didn't believe it himself, but it felt wonderful.

They both sighed loudly when, with one slow thrust, he opened her wide on his swollen length, leaning over her, pressing his forehead to hers, her trembling hand rising to stroke his cheek, her lips pressed to his in a warm, innocent kiss.

He murmured contentedly, forcing her to fit all of him inside her with an impatient thrust of his hips − he heard her quiet cry of discomfort and surprise and swallowed loudly feeling his manhood pulsing intensely inside her, so hungry for her closeness.

She closed his waist between her legs, crossing them over his back, and he lay on top of her, pulling his t-shirt off quickly, resting his weight on his elbows to keep from crushing her, feeling her little, puffy nipples on his naked chest.

She sighed sweetly, looking up at him dreamily, trailing her fingers down his face and neck as he slipped out of her only to sink into her again a moment later with a loud click of her moisture − she was all wet and warm inside after her intense orgasm, her muscles squeezing him wonderfully from all sides.

"− that's it − just like that - it's okay −" He whispered tenderly, letting himself sink into the taste of her sticky, plump lips again, her hands trailing down his sweaty, muscled back as he involuntarily sped up his pace, pressing his nose to her cheek, slamming into her with more and more sure, brutal thrusts of his hips, groaning low along with her.

"− oh, fuck, baby −" He gasped, listening to her moans of pleasure, her insides wonderfully warm and tight, quivering all over in sensation, soaking him wet. He began to root aggressively into her weeping cunt panting hard, all around them only the loud sound of their moist, naked bodies slapping quickly against each other.

"− please − please − please −" She mumbled out looking up at him with her mouth wide open, digging her fingers into the hot skin of his back − he could feel her walls clench around him tighter, sucking him inside. He shuddered hard at her words, focusing now only on rooting again and again into her warm, fleshy interior.

"− I don't know if I'm going to let you sleep tonight − I think I'd rather do this with you instead −" He breathed out into her mouth, pushing his tongue deep into her throat − he felt her body shake as she convulsed, her hands clenched painfully hard on his body as she came a second time with sweet mewl of effort, panting loudly as if she couldn't catch her breath, her muscles began to throb greedily around his cock, sucking him inside.

He tilted his head back and sighed in relief, a few sloppy, rough thrusts prolonging the inevitable − his warm cum spilled deep inside her, a hot wave of pleasure surging through his lungs.

He crushed her with his body, feeling their bodies quivering and twitching all over, both of them panting hard as if they had run a marathon, their hands running blindly over each other's naked skin as if they wanted to calm and soothe each other.

"− I love you −" He muttered, lying with his eyes closed, his nose snuggled into her hot, soft cheek. "− you know that, don't you? −"

"− yes −" She answered him quietly, and he sighed heavily, snuggling into her like a small child.

That much was enough for him.

He didn't expect anything from her.

He just wanted her to know it.

He spent that night as if in a frenzy, holding her close, embracing her from behind tightly with his arms, their legs entwined together in disarray. He fell asleep with his face pressed against her hair, completely overwhelmed by her wonderful scent, the warmth of her naked body, one of her hands placed on his making sure he didn't let go of her soft breasts.

They hadn't said much to each other after they awoke − when he turned her face towards him and he just sank into her swollen lips in a sticky, hot kiss. She purred sleepily at this caress, her fingertips running over his jaw.

She let him take her a second time then, from behind this time − she was so wet from their shared moisture that he slid into her without much difficulty, stretching her wonderfully tight walls with a sigh of delight.

He rooted into her with lazy, slow thrusts of his hips, making sure that each time the fat head of his cock rubbed her sweet spot, one of his hands playing with her puffy, little nipple, the other sunk deep between her thighs, teasing her swollen clit.

"− do you want me to stop? −" He whispered in her ear, and she shook her head, digging her fingers into his arm with which he embraced her at the waist.

"− n-no − it feels good −" She muttered in embarrassment − he kissed her hot cheek with a sticky click of his saliva seeing her lips parted in accelerated breath, her dreamy, warm gaze.

"− so I'm afraid I'm going to fill you a second time, sweet girl −" He hummed, running the tip of his nose over her pretty face. She moaned quietly at his words, feeling him suddenly speed up, slamming into her with more confident, brutal pushes − she tilted her head back, his lips immediately pressed against her neck.

"− d-don't − don't leave marks −" She mumbled out, quickly clenching her hand in his hair − she whimpered softly as she felt his fingertips dig harder into her fleshy folds.

"− I won't, baby − shhh −" He hushed her, running his lust-swollen lips over her soft skin, feeling her weeping walls squeeze him greedily at his words, forcing him to thrust into her more aggressively, his fingers sinking into her plushy thigh, holding her in place, panting along with her.

"− ah, G-God − She babbled, responding helplessly to his movements with rocking, both of them groaning in pleasure and relief as her muscles began to clench against him in a sudden orgasm, his thighs all sticky with her wetness.

"− yes, that's it − oh baby −" He muttered, letting go, with the last of his strength thrusting into her for a moment more before his seed filled her to the brim.

He hid the tip of his nose in her hair with his eyes closed, panting loudly with pleasure, holding firmly her body trembling in fulfilment in the tight embrace of his arms.

"− can I stay inside you? −" He whispered into her ear and she only nodded, falling into slumber again a moment later.

For the first time in many years he didn't have to get up at dawn, he didn't have to focus on work, on Daeron, on anyone or anything more than himself and her.

He couldn't believe it was really happening.

He lay thinking only of the fact that he was deep inside her, that he could feel her and smell her − he placed one of his hands over her heart wanting to feel how it beat, how her chest rose and fell in calm breaths.

The days before his appointment with the psychiatrist he had spent between her thighs.

She walked around his house wearing nothing but his T-shirt and it was enough for him standing behind her to lift its fabric a little to see her lovely, plump buttocks.

"− stop − we need to eat something −" She muttered as he knelt on the kitchen tiles while she was trying to prepare dinner for them, so that he could kiss her hot, soft skin with a murmur of satisfaction. His hand slipped lower, between her thighs, his fingertips collecting her moisture mingled with his semen, a reminder of what he had been doing to her all day.

"− I adore you −" He gasped, sliding his lips lower, placing warm, sticky kisses on her thighs and calves, he heard her quiet sigh.

"− does your friend know that you have a second lover? −" She asked quietly, and he froze, quickly lifting his gaze to her, understanding immediately that she was talking about Alys.

He didn't want to make a mistake and lie, but he also didn't know how to present it so she would know that it was a done deal for him.

"− I stopped seeing her after what happened between us −" He said softly getting up from his knees, looking down at her, putting an unruly lock of her dark hair behind her ear. "− I didn't see the point in it, because all I was thinking about was you −"

He confessed with a kind of pain and weariness, and she lifted her gaze to him, her bright eyes looked at him piercingly, warm and gentle. He leaned in placing a long, drawn-out kiss on her forehead.

She snuggled into his chest as if seeking refuge, and he embraced her kissing the top of her head devotedly, running his large hands down her back in a reassuring, tender gesture.

"− I can't promise you anything −" She said at last, and he swallowed hard, knowing what she meant.

"− I know − I don't expect it −" He whispered, cuddling his face into her fragrant hair, closing his eyes, her closeness and her scent calming him in some strange, incomprehensible way.

"− I will always wait for you −"

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires

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gremlinmodetweeker · 3 months ago

Text

Bellowing Bull Calling Home

Please forgive me for not posting any stories in a hot minute! I've just been super busy and tired. I had a whole issue with my meds (thankfully it's been sorted out) and since I'm so angry I wrote something about König getting mad. I really like the idea of being yelled at by this man, so once I get to 500 followers, I might post some snippets of smut.

Also, I'm thinking about opening a Kofi soon. I don't make much money, but it would be a good place to post some more... Interesting drawings, so to speak. I could also take some comissions if anyone is interested. However, I'm not sure yet. I'm just floating the idea.

Anyways, enough about me! Time to read König getting mad because that's super hot.

TWs: König yelling and insulting recruits, slight allusions to degradation kink, allusions to a horrible government secret contained in a suitcase (you never learn what it is)

Wordcount: 4.1K

Art from This Post

Story below the cut

Bellowing Bull Calling Home

Normally, visiting König at work was a laughable concept. A PMC base was no place for a simple civilian such as yourself, yet here you were with König’s (supposedly) very important briefcase that he’d been directed to hold close to his chest for the foreseeable future. You’d begged König to let you read them, but he had simply laughed you off and changed the locks on the briefcase again. He then politely hid it out of view to keep you from trying to break into it. You had no intentions of doing so, but apparently whatever was in there was important enough for König to go to such lengths to protect it.

Unfortunately, by hiding the suitcase to keep it out of sight and out of mind from your curious fingers, König had forgotten about it entirely when he left that morning. You wouldn’t have known were the suitcase not sat proud and regal on your humble dining room table.

Sipping your drink and leaning against the counter, you realized you had the perfect opportunity to try and hack the damned thing open. Whatever was in there had König muttering darkly under his breath and leaning away from your touch. Those accursed documents were driving a wedge into your relationship the size and depth of a canyon. Of course, you knew the case was tamper-proof. You knew that if you so much as cracked it open as much as a millimeter, it would most likely set off some sort of alarm if a proper code wasn’t punched in the top. You had the strange feeling, based on the hefty weight in your hands, that the case wouldn’t even so much as dent if you took a simple butterknife to it.

You swung it back and forth as you left the home, the weight of your relationship hanging with the suitcase in your hand. Making your way to the main gates of the base.

A soldier checked your ID before waving you through, getting another soldier to help make your way to your husband.

“So, I don’t know if he’ll be in his office right now, but we can swing by there first,” Horangi chirped as he followed behind you to a long, grey building that sat close to the entrance.

You passed through a series of doors under the judgemental stares of low-ranking officers as Horangi brought you down the linoleum floors to come to a plain wood door, its only decor being a brown and white plaque reading ‘LEICHENBERG’ in big block letters. Horangi flicked the back of his knuckles against the doors twice before rolling back onto the balls of his heels. He looked at the door expectantly, then to you, then knocked again.

“Sometimes I knock and he thinks he’s going crazy,” Horangi explained before turning back to the door, “what he doesn't know is that sometimes I’m walking by and I’ll knock on the door and leave before he can answer it. I don’t think he’s caught on yet.”

You shook your head tiredly. That would at least explain some of König’s strange tendencies as of late, at least. Friends like Horangi tended to shorten lifespans, so if König dropped dead on his next mission, at least you knew who to blame now.

Horangi pulled out a set of keys and unlocked the door to step through into the minimalist office. You balked at his gall, but the way the soldier swaggered through the doorway had you thinking that Horangi was far too comfortable with pushing his way into your husband’s office.

You barely got a chance to see your wedding picture on König's desk before Horangi cleared his throat.

“Whelp, looks like he’s not here,” Horangi sighed as he turned to face you, “guess I can just hand that over to him myself, if you’d like.”

You sighed, “I was really hoping to hand this over to him personally…”

“Why?” Horangi snorted, “so you can go fuck in a closet or something?”

“No!” you gasped, “I just… I wanted to see him. I never get to see him at work so, you know... I thought this might be a good chance to see what he's like at work.”

“Well who am I to deny such a fine and noble venture?” you could hear Horangi’s shit-eating grin through his mask, “if we’re gonna track down König, we gotta use plan B.”

“Plan B?” you asked warily.

“Plan B!” Horangi cheered before sauntering over and slinging an arm over your shoulder, “looks like we’re going on a goose chase today.”

“Please not a wild one.”

“It’s gonna be a wild one.”

You groaned as Horangi’s laughter echoed off the empty walls of König’s office. It figured that the one day you had to go to König’s work he’d be squirreled away into the farthest corner of the base. He had a habit of being in the wrong spot at the wrong time, which made you all the more anxious every time he was sent on deployment. It also had a tendency to haunt you in your daily life when he returned home to your awaiting arms.

Horangi trotted down the halls, conveniently pushing you past anything he considered a bit too explicit for civilian eyes and ensuring you were in front of him to prevent you from skiving off to some derelict corner of the base.

“König usually likes to go to the gym when he’s frustrated about something,” Horangi explained as he brought you from the main building to a separate section of the base. Once inside, Horangi rounded on the help desk like a tiger on a deer.

“So, Matrice,” Horangi drawled as he leaned his chin on the heel of his hand, somehow exuding smugness through his mask and sunglasses, “you wouldn’t happen to know where ol’ Col. Leichenberg is, would you?”

“Uh…” Matrice darted her dark eyes between Horangi and you, then down to the suitcase fearfully.

“König’s my husband,” you offered.

“König has a wife?” Matrice shook her dark curls as she tapped away on her archaic keyboard, “nobody ever tells me anything around here...”

“Well maybe if you actually came to the staff parties, you might get to know us a bit better,” Horangi slyly slid the dig into the conversation with serpentine ease.

“Horangi, last time I attended a KorTac hoedown you threw up in my car,” Matrice grumbled, “I’m never gonna be your DD again.”

“I don’t remember it being that bad,” Horangi snorted, then turned and muttered, “not that I remember that much anyways…”

“And that’s why I’m not your DD anymore,” Matrice scrolled through the page a couple of times before shrugging and turning to you, “sorry ma'am, but you’re outta luck here. Maybe try checking the cafeteria? It’s nearly lunch. Big boy's gotta eat."

“König would be the first out to lunch,” you grumbled after you thanked the woman. Horangi paid no mind to your whinging and simply turned you back around to head back to the main building.

“If it makes you feel better,” Horangi offered as he firmly pushed you across the road, “I think I saw him cut down on red meat the other day.”

“We’ll see how long that lasts,” you rolled your eyes.

Horangi only laughed as he opened the door for you.

“I’m serious! He needs to watch what he eats!” you insisted as Horangi led you into the belly of the PMC.

“You know, sometimes I think about what your grocery budget is like, and then I think I'd rather go back to South Africa than have to pay your bills for a month,” Horangi chirped as he stopped you from missing a right turn, “watch your step.”

“You know it would be easier if you were the one in front,” you huffed as you swung down the bland corridor.

“I don’t like the thought of you being out of sight,” Horangi explained as he guided you around yet another corner, “König’s said some interesting things about you.”

“You guys talk about me?” you cast a glare over your shoulder at the tall Korean man.

“What else are we gonna talk about?” Horangi shrugged, “living on base isn’t exactly exciting. Dunno if you civvies got the memo, but there’s only so many times you can talk about special secret missions before it just gets boring.”

“Special secret missions?” you perked up.

“Cleaning duty assigned to whatever poor fucker got the shit end of the stick,” Horangi clarified.

You groaned, then complained, “Please tell me he doesn’t say bad things.”

“Not really,” Horangi replied, “but he tells me a little bit. Just the juicy bits.”

“Really?” you scoffed, “like what?”

“Did you actually forget your own birthday this year?”

You flushed, which seemed to be enough proof for Horangi to laugh at your humiliation.

“He told me you nearly had a heart attack when he told you,” Horangi snickered.

“Oh really?” the cafeteria came into view, “well has he told you he eats other people’s lunches as snacks?”

Horangi sighed, “I figured it was him. It’s not hard to guess that one.”

“Has he told you that he ate Stilleto’s cake?”

Horangi paused, “I thought he was a better man.”

“We both did,” you shook your head morosely, “but I guess she stole his evening snack or something?”

“Oh my God he didn’t try to justify it, did he?” Horangi groaned.

“I tried to explain it to him but he wouldn’t have it,” you pushed the door to the cafeteria open.

The massive room was empty save for a table of sergeants playing poker and a couple of officers sharing a coffee. The room was notably absent of any giant men with a propensity for malicious snacking. The warm and inviting smell of the room made you want to grab one of those dishwater coffees they served and kick up your feet, get a taste of the military experience, but the suitcase felt hot in your hands.

“Looks like he’s not here,” Horangi pointed out the obvious, “so maybe he’s outside training one of his teams? I hope not…”

“Why don’t we check?” you offered.

“But it’s so far…” Horangi trailed off weakly as you marched past him, “hey! Where are you going!?”

“To see König!” you called back.

Horangi rolled his eyes, but followed behind you regardless.

The outdoor training area had been split into three squads of men, each squad being led by a different officer. The first leader Horangi brought you to had looked you up and down suspiciously before promptly turning a shade of milk white when he spotted the suitcase in your arms.

“What the hell are you doing with that!?” the portly man squawked as he jabbed a finger at the offending black pleather suitcase.

“My husband forgot it before going to work,” you spoke softly, taken aback by the man’s animated reaction.

“Wh-König just left it at home?” the man’s pale skin was steadily flushing to a beet red the longer you let him sit with your answer.

“Can you show me where he is? I need to get this back to him,” you tried to calm him but he only grew steadily more upset.

“You’re telling me König left that suitcase in the hands of a damn civilian?” the man scoffed, “König’s an idiot, but he can’t be that stupid!”

“She’s probably telling the truth, Baker,” Horangi interjected.

Baker steamrolled over him with the grace of a bulldog chasing a rat, “So where the hell did you get that?”

“It was just on my kitchen ta-”

“It was on your what!?” Baker howled.

“Baker!” Horangi barked, finally making the man pause to let you breathe, “this is König’s wife.”

Baker’s eyes widened as his mouth dropped into a perfect ‘o’. He turned to you with a sheepish smile, “Sorry, ma’am, I… I should’ve put two and two together but just seeing a random civilian with that in their hands and… Well… You gotta understand, right?”

You tried to steel your nerves as you replied, “It’s alright! Don’t worry about it.”

“I really should apologize though,” Baker blundered on, “I mean if I’d only known you were König’s wife I never would’ve-”

“Baker please,” Horangi pinched his nose bridge, “cut the shit. I’m really not in the mood to listen to you kiss ass for an hour straight.”

“Understood sir,” Baker snapped his jaw shut before subtly turning to you, “please don’t mention anything to König.”

“I won’t,” you assured him kindly.

“Thank God,” Baker quietly made the sign of a cross before returning back to his platoon.

Horangi dragged you along to the next platoon, quietly ignoring Baker’s inability to direct you to König. Instead you were brought before a short man with notably thick dark eyebrows, accentuating his severe browline as he scowled at his soldiers.

“G’day Horangi 'ow are what the hell is she holding,” the man glared at you as though you were but dirt beneath his steel-toed boots.

“This is König’s wife,” Horangi cut you off before you could even start, “she’s here to deliver what he forgot at home.”

The man’s dark eyes darted from you back to Horangi, “You’re tellin’ me big boy over there forgot the damn-”

“Don’t say it,” Horangi interjected harshly, “don’t you dare.”

“She don’t know?” the man whispered.

“Not a word,” Horangi’s threat was nearly lost under the shouts of men and the screams of whistles.

The man looked unnerved, but nodded along begrudgingly.

“Right, well, you’re lookin’ for the big guy?” the man glanced between you both.

“Sure are,” Horangi nodded.

“Well yer in luck!” the man’s face lit up, “big boy’s just over there.” With that, he pointed out into the distance at one big man sitting in a navy blue folding chair whilst commanding the smallest group of soldiers, no more than a squad in number. His back was to them, but it was clear it was none other than König. If nothing else, the mask on his face in the sweltering hot sun was a dead giveaway. It was a miracle you didn’t see him earlier.

“Damn,” Horangi spat, “you really think it would be easier to find him, but he’s damn good at getting lost in a crowd.”

“When ‘e’s in that chair it’s hard to spot ‘im,” the man chuckled, “now get outta my sight with that damned thing. Gives me the heebie-jeebies just lookin’ at it.”

You glanced down at the suitcase and back at Horangi.

“You don't want to know. Seriously,” Horangi muttered as he urged you onwards.

Instead of taking in the weight of Horangi's ominous utterances, you focussed on making your way to König with a skip in your step, eager to see your beloved husband. You were so eager that you didn’t notice how he tensed up as you drew close. Just as you were about to greet him, he slowly rose from his seat with a blood-curdling howl sent straight from hell itself.

“YOU!” König bellowed like a brazen bull, “JEFFERSON, YOUNG, MANDULU! GET OVER HERE RIGHT NOW.”

You stopped dead in your tracks. You had never, never, in your life ever heard König yell like that before. Sure he could curse up a wicked storm when he stunned his toe on the corner of your table, but this? This was another beast entirely. The mere thought of König yelling like this had been completely foreign to you.

“YOU USELESS ANIMALS,” König raged as he rounded in on the three cowering soldiers, “I have never, in my entire life, seen such incompetence,” König drew himself up to his full height, making even you shiver in your shoes, “and yet here you three are before me. What gives you the right to call yourself soldiers!?”

“I’m sorry sir, it won’t happen again,” the middle man’s voice quivered as he stepped forward for the others.

König’s laugh sounded downright demonic, “You’re apologizing for what? I haven’t even told you what you did wrong!”

You looked back at Horangi, who only threw you two thumbs up as he smartly backed away. You glared at his retreating form before König forcefully grabbed your attention.

“All three of you have been nothing but DEAD WEIGHT to the rest of your team. I’ve seen better performances from drunks moping up their own VOMIT!” König snarled as he drew close to the men, circling them like a hyena stalks its prey, “fucking Aziz is doing better than any of you. And Mandulu!” König clucked his tongue as the terracotta skinned man quivered like an aspen tree when König's voice dropped to a lull, “I expected better of you. You’re supposed to be up for promotion, yeah?" König leaned in close to scream, "DOES THIS PERFORMANCE WARRANT A GOD DAMN PROMOTION?” König’s face wasn’t even a foot from the man’s nose, leaning down and coating him with hot breaths from his draconic lungs.

The man, Mandulu, slumped as all fear left his body, totally replaced with encroaching shame. He dropped his head down, before tearfully admitting, “No sir.”

“THEN WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!?” König screamed.

A part of you wanted to intervene. You felt like you were witnessing a torture session with how König rounded on this poor man, but something held you back. Maybe it was fear, but maybe, just maybe… It was arousal.

You hated to admit it, but something about watching König’s muscles bulge in his neck as his mask swayed forth when he leaned down over men who easily dwarfed you excited you. You almost wished that you were in their shoes, but watching was more than enough. He was a glorious sight, rage burning like the sun as he lorded over his men like a god. He was a mountain of a man with how he held himself up above his victims. You wished to lay before him like Prometheus, let him rip you apart with his talons.

“And you two,” König spat as he turned to the others, “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING ON YOUR PHONES? What are you doing twenty feet off looking at the others while they work like ACTUAL FUCKING SOLDIERS.”

One meekly spluttered, “Sir we were just-”

“Just what? Laughing at Goetz?” you could see König whipping himself up into a frenzy as he hurled his next insults, “GOETZ HAD KNEE SURGERY THREE MONTHS AGO AND IS STILL HAULING YOUR USELESS ASSES ACROSS THE GODDAMN FIELD. AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING? PLAYING ON YOUR GODDAMN PHONES!!!”

You shuddered. If there was one thing König hated, it was soldiers on their phone during training. You gave a silent prayer for the poor men.

König stalked around them slowly, “I should have you thrown out. What would I be losing? Nothing! Not a single thing! I might actually gain something without you two dragging us down!”

The men cowered miserably. You couldn’t help but feel sorry for them, despite knowing the abuse was more than well deserved. From the sounds of it, it was a miracle König hadn’t beaten them to a pulp. Now that… That would be a sight to witness…

“ALL OF YOU,” König snapped as he finally stood to face the three men directly, “Mandulu! Give me a ten page report on all the reasons you’re still worthy of a promotion today at eighteen-hundred exactly, or you’re up for recycling. For the next half hour, you’re running laps around the yard. Maybe think how you'll structure your points, ja?” he turned to the other two, this time with a sadistic gleam in his eyes. You knew that under his mask, he was grinning from ear to ear through the fury etched into his face. “And you two!” he cackled, “give me your phones. For the next week, you’re going to be putting your phones in lock boxes. You’re going to carry those fucking boxes from the moment you wake up to the moment you go to sleep. If you’re good little boys, you’ll get your phone for an hour before lights out. Are we clear?”

“But sir, my wife-”

“I DON’T GIVE A GOOD GOD DAMN ABOUT YOUR WIFE,” König roared.

The man shrunk into himself like he’d been burned by the flames of König’s fury.

“You are to carry your phones in lockboxes for the next two weeks! Are we clear?” König snapped.

“Yes sir,” the two miserable whelps squeaked out before König finally relaxed.

The goliath finally stood straight before them, “All three of you! Dismissed!”

“Yes sir,” the three men saluted and slunk off miserably.

Just as Mandulu looked like he couldn’t be in any worse of a state, König called out, “And Mandulu?" the man raised his dark for eyes, "I’m disappointed.”

The poor man looked like his whole spirit had just been crushed to dust. His face crumpled in just briefly before he quickly turned his face and quietly left.

You watched the poor man leave with his tail tucked between his legs before turning to look at König. He was shaking his head slowly as he turned his back on his soldiers, all of whom were watching him for further instruction. He quietly turned to them, barked a couple of commands that had the soldiers scurrying into actions, then turned back to stare off into the distance. Incidentally, that was right at you.

“Ah!” König stiffened slightly as he locked eyes with you, “meine liebe! What are you doing here?”

“I brought this for you,” you held up the suitcase that had been weighing you down all day.

“Oh mein Gott,” König gasped as he rushed over, “ohhhhh mein Gott meine leibe I can’t believe you found this. I can’t believe I forgot oh mein Gott.”

“I figured you might need it,” you laughed as you handed the suitcase over.

“I knew I was forgetting something, but this? If one of my superiors saw me without this,” König shuddered, “I don’t even want to think about it.”

“Well it’s a good thing I got it for you!” you smiled brightly before scowling, “it was really hard to find you though.”

“Oh?” König put the case down and put his hands on your shoulders, “where did you think I was?”

“Well, first Horangi took me to your office-”

“Please tell me he didn’t take you inside,” König groaned.

“He did,” you chirped, “but he did knock twice at least.”

“Well that’s something,” König grumbled, “so where did you go next?”

“We went to the cafeteria afterwards,” you placed your hands on König’s hips and shifted from side to side.

“You went to the cafeteria? Why didn’t you come here first?” König scoffed in mock offense.

“König,” you cupped his masked face in your hands, “I know you too well to not check the cafeteria second.”

König sniffed indignantly but let you continue your regales of your odyssey.

“So anyways, when you weren’t in the cafeteria, Horangi took me out here to find you! It took us a couple of tries, but we got here in the end!” you lightly kissed the inside of his wrist, making him chuckle sheepishly.

“So you saw all that?” König grimaced.

“All of it,” you told him, “I feel kinda bad for them though…”

“Ach,” König scratched the back of his head, “Jefferson and Young are fucking idiots, but Mandulu is usually one of my best. I don’t know what got into him today…”

“Maybe he’s going through a tough time?” you asked.

“I really hope not,” König winced, “if he is… Well, I can’t apologize. And if he were out on the fields it wouldn’t matter, so this is a good experience. Still,” König paused as he looked off to where Mandulu left, “I hope tomorrow is better.”

“Can't you go easy on him?” you asked hopefully.

“It’s because I like him that I have to be harder,” König patted your head lovingly, “if I’m soft, he’ll never be what he wants to be. If I’m hard on him, he might get to my rank in a couple of years.”

“That fast!” you whistled, “he must really be something special.”

“I was the one who put him up for promotion,” König brought his hands back to his hils, “but… You weren’t upset by any of that, were you?”

“Not really,” you shook your head, “if anything, it was kinda hot.”

“You thought me going red in the face is ‘hot’?” König shook his head in disbelief, “you’re a strange woman.”

“It’s cool to see you when you get all angry and stuff,” you chirped, then quietly added, “it would be hot if you yelled at me like that.”

“I don’t want the neighbors to know about your kinks,” König drawled as you blushed, “but if you really want, we could always try something when we get home.”

“Could we really?” you grinned eagerly.

“Well, not like that,” König pointed over his shoulder at where the three men had stood, “but I’m sure we can figure something out. Now,” he picked up the suitcase, “do you need a lift home?”

“I’ll be alright,” you assured him, “do you need me to go?”

“I'd hate for you to go so soon. If you like, I can meet you back in my office, but as you can see I’m a bit busy just right now,” König gestured over to the soldiers hauling a massive log over their shoulders from one end of the muddy field to the other.

“Can you at least give me a kiss before I go?” you asked.

“Of course,” König laughed.

Without missing a beat, König lifted his mask up to lean down and press a kiss against your lips. He held you tight briefly, then let you step back from his grasp. His eyes shone with an undying warmth as he took in your form once more.

“Colonel König has a face!” a soldier screamed in the distance.

König closed his eyes as he let out an exasperated groan.

“They’ve never seen your face?” you asked.

“They’ve never been on the field with me,” König explained before ruffling your hair, “now go to my office. I’ll be there soon, okay? I love you.”

“I love you too,” you blew him a kiss as you walked off back to the main building.

As you did, you could hear König raging and roaring at the soldiers from behind you. You felt bad, but you knew you’d be on the receiving end of König’s rage soon enough. Funnily enough, you looked forward to it.

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alexsoenomel · 10 months ago

Text

The Reveries Of My Mind (Dean Winchester x Reader fluff/smut)

Summary: What happens when you discover you can feel someone's torment and struggles through an unexplainable bond?

"Your struggles are mine. Your sadness is mine. You're mine."

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI , vanilla sex, dreams about the reader dying --not too graphic , first person fic

Word count: 6.7k

Note: I took my time with this one. I really like it. I've been struggling to write for so long it feels good to be back. Enjoy!

Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)

And a huge thank you to my wonderful beautiful best friend @ambergoddess444 for being the best beta reader <3

I’m gonna kill him.

I heard Sam’s voice echo in my mind as I was eating my pancakes. I looked at Dean who was stuffing his face with eggs and bacon, not really paying attention to Sam’s resting bitch face.

STOP CHEWING SO LOUD FOR THE LOVE OF CHUCK!

I heard him again and almost choked on my milk.

“What?” Sam asked.

“Oh, nothing,” I answered.

Dean just glanced at me and continued eating his breakfast.

It was Sunday and luck was on our side because we couldn't find a case. This would happen once in a blue moon so we were quite content with having a day off. Monsters sometimes sleep.

After breakfast Sam said he was going to go and catch up on some reading while Dean and I were left alone.

“Can I borrow Baby?” I asked, since it was July and summer was in full swing in Kansas. I wanted to forget about my job – about hunting – I wanted to go outside and feel the summer breeze in my hair in his beautiful Impala. I already knew his answer as soon as I saw his brow arch. He was very protective over his Baby; only allowed me to drive once after I begged him for my birthday.

Absolutely not.

“Why?”

I crossed my arms, my lips thinned.

“Why ask when you already gave me your answer?”

Dean raised his eyebrows, eyes widened as we were sitting at the table opposite of each other.

“I keep forgetting you can do that,” he said, looking away from me.

“You keep forgetting about your mental shield,” I told him as I went to the kitchen to get myself some coffee.

I didn't realize Dean was following me until I heard his voice.

“I can't just sit in silence and breathe while I think about nothing.”

“You mean to meditate?” I chuckled.

“Yeah…that.”

I took a sip of hot coffee Sam made after breakfast and turned around to face him.

“You have to strengthen your shield, Dean.”

“There has to be another way,” he said desperately as he poured coffee into his black mug.

“No there isn't, I told you. Everyone has a mental shield, but the reason why I can hear people's thoughts 99% of the time is because their shield is not strong enough. And how do you strengthen your shield? You shut up and meditate. Focus on it and build it.”

Dean wasn't pleased as he took another sip of his coffee.

“Sam meditates, can you still hear his thoughts?”

“I can, because it takes years to actually strengthen the damn shield and he started meditating six months ago.”

He just rolled his eyes as we went back to the library.

“I don't want you in my head,” he stated.

“I cannot help it, dumbass. Can I take the car or not?”

Dean took the keys out of his pocket and dangled them in front of my face. I tried to take them but he refused to give them to me.

Typical.

“I'm driving,” he told me with a smirk.

***

“Where do you want to go?” He asked me as I closed the car door.

“I don't have any particular destination in mind. I just wanted to drive around and listen to music.”

Dean gave me a soft smile before starting the engine. Baby was purring – I could never get tired of that sound; it was smooth and powerful – no wonder he was so protective of her. The car held memories, sacred moments and was filled with stories – good and bad.

“Sounds like a plan,” and with those words we were off.

We were on the main highway, heading to God knows where. Dean, of course being the driver, was controlling the music as well.

Dream On by Aerosmith was playing. I loved that song, but I was in the mood for Van Halen.

Driver picks the music. Shot-

“Shotgun what?” I smirked, glancing at him. I saw he gripped the wheel tighter and licked his lips.

“God, I hate when you do that,” he said. I chuckled.

Front windows were down, summer breeze in my face and hair gently caressing me as Crazy Train started playing. Ozzy was too chaotic for this drive. As much as I loved his songs I wanted something to ease my mind and not encourage my body to produce adrenaline. I dared to change the song.

Don't Fear The Reaper by Blue Öyster Cult.

Much better.

“Hey, I was listening to that,” Dean of course complained.

“Well not anymore,” I told him as I showed him a middle finger.

A chuckle left his lips before he spoke.

“Wanna grab a few drinks?”

“Dean I don't wanna get drunk at” – I looked at my phone to check the time – “11am.”

“You don't have to do anything you don’t wanna do. We can buy a few beers and go to our favorite hiding spot. If I get too drunk maybe, maybe I'll let you drive.”

I couldn't believe what I just heard. My heart was racing from excitement. Sam was always the designated driver; Dean would sometimes drive drunk without us noticing. I know that because he admitted that…while we were drinking after a successful hunt.

“Really?” I played skeptical; part of me was. “You're not afraid I'll crash your beloved car?”

“If you do, I'll kill you,” he looked at me and gave me a flat smile.

Fair enough.

“Well okay.”

She won't crash my car.

Well I think she won’t.

I hope she won’t.

I didn't say anything, just stared at the trees blurred on my right side as we passed by; absorbing the warmth and sunshine in my face.

It's My Life By Bon Jovi started playing.

Perfect.

Dean bought a couple of beers and some Slim Jims at the first gas station just before his favorite hiding spot.

The hiding spot was an abandoned house we found a few months ago when we were hunting a vampire nest. It was an old cabin in the middle of nowhere, a few miles away from the main road. After exterminating the nest, we started coming there every once in a while to relax and get away from everything that made us hunters. Sam completely forgot about that place but Dean and I would occasionally go, mainly at night to get away from the bunker’s haunting reminder of the life we were living. There we were just regular folk, drinking and having fun. The house was dusty and old, but dear to us, like a portal to a regular life and what we desperately wanted, but could never have.

As we were approaching the house I couldn’t ignore the strong sense of serenity coming from Dean. His mind was at ease, no racing thoughts, no sorrow he would usually carry within himself – he was happy. I’ve never told him about that; I know he would probably freak out – yell even – so I kept my mouth shut. I would be lying if I said it didn't freak me out as well. Every emotion he would feel, I would feel too and sometimes even twice as strong. It was like a bond of some sort; an invisible string connecting us and letting me see and feel every inch of his mind. I would wake up whenever he couldn’t sleep, I’d laugh whenever he’d laughed and I would get angry whenever he’d get angry…I felt everything and it was driving me insane not being able to talk to him about it, because it was only him I’d felt connected to.

I smiled at him when he turned off the engine, feeling the warmth in his soul. I got out of the car and stretched my legs, inhaling fresh summer air and soaking in the sunshine on my skin.

“Let’s have a picnic,” I suggested, “I don’t wanna go inside. The weather is beautiful.”

“A picnic? Here?” He asked, looking around. Nothing but endless grass fields around us; the highway was peeking through the greenery but we could barely see it anymore.

“You will be fine, princess,” I chuckled, “Besides it’s good to connect with mother nature every once and a while.”

Forest nymph.

He started calling me that when I told him about my love and admiration for nature and my passion for hiking and exploring woods. He told me no sane person loves hiking, but his younger brother understood. Now, occasionally I’d go hiking with Sam.

I ignored his thought, even though I wanted to tell him we weren’t in a forest, and found a perfect spot next to the house and sat down. He rolled his eyes and joined me.

Dean cracked two bottles and I opened one of my favorite honey BBQ Slim Jims and took a first bite. I loved the smooth texture and a light honey flavor mixed with BBQ aroma in my mouth.

“Cheers!” He said lifting his bottle for a toast.

“Cheers, for not dying!”

He chuckled.

“For not dying!”

One beer…

Two beers later we were both feeling the consequences of our own actions. I was tipsy due to my low alcohol tolerance while Dean seemed sober but was far from it. He had a strange gift – being able to fake sobriety. He had been doing it for years and now seeing him behaving like a drunken fool looked strange and unfamiliar.

He was looking at me; green eyes sparkling under the sun making me wonder if he and I were ever meant for something more. I was in love with the idea of being in love with him but it scared me more than death which I had experienced a couple of times. He was my best friend, my annoying best friend with a heart of gold and a shadow he wanted to remain hidden.

We stayed for hours, soaking in the sunshine and summer heat while reliving old memories and wondering if this life we had was worth it. We soon realized, it was.

“We still get to experience this,” I stated, showing him a butterfly that flew in that moment right in front of me.

“Butterflies?” He wondered, tilting his head a little in confusion.

“Nature, dumbass,” I smiled, “And other small pleasures, music, alcohol, food…and also knowing the world is less shitty because of us.”

He nodded in a silent agreement before hearing him call me forest nymph again. His warm green eyes fixed on me, making me a bit nervous. He didn't say a word.

“What?” I finally asked him.

His right hand went into the pocket of his jeans and he pulled out his car keys.

“You can drive,” he told me and gave me the keys.

***

When we came back home safely, since I didn’t crash his precious car, Sam was still in his room, probably reading and Dean decided to take a nap since naps weren’t a regular occurrence in our household.

I decided to continue the book I started a couple of weeks ago. I missed being able to read books I wanted, and not just ones for research purposes. I could still feel him. He was content. I smiled and opened my book.

An hour into the book and a picture flashed right in front of my eyes. I saw blood, so much blood on the sidewalk. Hairs on my arms rose as another frame appeared: it was a girl lying face down, head bludgeoned. A wave of fear rushed over me as I closed my book, not being able to simply ignore it. I knew exactly what this was – Dean’s nightmares – I knew exactly who this was.

Another flash. His hands, covered in blood. He was trying to wake me up. He was calling my name over and over again like a prayer of despair, but I didn’t wake up; I didn’t move an inch.

Usually I would ignore his nightmares; I was too afraid to say anything, afraid of his reaction and not being able to give him a good explanation, but my silence was killing me. Something told me – maybe it was intuition or my impulsiveness, or both – I had to wake him up.

Quickly I got out of my bed and rushed to his room. His jaw was clenched, his body seemed stiff under the white sheet that covered him just below his chin. I could hear quiet moans coming from him as another picture appeared right in front of me – he was on his knees, holding me tight, eyes bloodshot red and filled with tears…My heart broke in a second before I closed my eyes, trying to make it go away. As I approached him I could see his eyes fluttering rapidly beneath his closed eyelids, his forehead glistening with a faint sheen of sweat…I had to wake him up.

“Dean?” I whispered and sat next to him. A whimper escaped his lips.

“Dean?” I called his name again, this time a little bit louder and with a hand on his cheek. He was warm.

“Dean, wake up!” I could feel his shock as he shot his eyes open, taking a deep breath like he forgot how to breathe, shivers running through him – I could feel them all over my skin.

He took in his familiar surroundings before he looked at me.

“You had a nightmare,” I told him.

“Yeah, a really bad one,” he simply added, pinching the bridge of his nose. A headache started to settle as he got up and went to the bathroom to splash himself with cold water. He was only wearing black boxers and it wasn’t like I have never seen him shirtless, it was the fact that every time I did, I had to tell myself not to stare like a Victorian man seeing ankles for the first time.

I swallowed thickly without saying a word.

I have to tell him. I repeated that sentence over and over again. I have to tell him he deserves to know.

When he came back my eyes registered his bulge for a second before looking up. I was praying he didn’t notice.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, so much for napping,” he lied and started putting on his blue jeans. I knew he was lying, he would always lie and repress his emotions and needs. I knew he was exhausted. Those nightmares had been happening for a week straight; the exhaustion showing on his face in a form of dark circles; the once lively features now appeared subdued; eyes dimmed.

“I saw it,” I utter these three words without much thought.

“What?” He was about to button his red flannel, stopping mid through.

“I saw your nightmare, you have been having the same nightmare for a week now.”

I refused to look at him, but I could feel his eyes on me as he took my words in. I could feel a slight sting in my chest coming from him – shock.

“You can read minds AND see people’s nightmares?”

“Not people’s; yours. It only happens with you, I wake up every time you have a nightmare, I feel every emotion you feel,” – I took a deep breath before I continued; I knew him well enough to know he hated secrets, even though he was a damn hypocrite and had his own – “I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want to freak you out. I cannot control it, trust me I tried, but I can’t. It has been happening for a while and-”

His eyes once trusting shited and now held a hint of disappointment, his jaw clenched. Anger.

Anger and disappointment.

“For how long?” His deep voice echoed in my ears as he cut my frantic explanation short.

I froze. I knew this question was coming. I knew right there that keeping this thing a secret was a mistake. I couldn’t answer it. I couldn’t…

“For how long (Y/N)?” He demanded crossing his arms. I didn’t like the sound of my name when he was angry.

I stood up, barely feeling my legs before I answered: “A year.”

“Does Sam know?” The next question came out less angrily, his voice softer than seconds ago.

“No.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. It started as just me feeling whenever you were happy, it was hard to recognise it at first, I thought it was my happiness and then it progressed to other emotions like fear, anger and sadness and after that I started seeing your dreams. I didn’t tell Sam because I wasn’t sure what was happening.”

“And you didn’t tell me because…?” He asked like I hadn’t given him the answer.

“I told you I didn’t want to freak you out. It feels like I’m invading your privacy.”

He scoffed.

“No shit Sherlock!”

His eyes widened before he spoke again: “Wait, so that means you can feel whenever I get horny?”

I chuckled. “No, because being horny isn’t an emotion, Dean. It’s a state.”

“Oh thank God,” he expressed his relief.

“I do feel the sudden rush of endorphins and happy hormones every time you come though,” at this point I had nothing to hide, especially when I could feel his anger subsiding. It wasn’t like him to just ignore something that made him angry, but for whatever reason he was over it. Now he was mortified.

“Oh God!” He said and opened the door of his room. “SAMMY! GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE WE HAVE SOME RESEARCH TO DO!”

I swallowed a laugh before he turned around.

“We're gonna get to the bottom of this!”

***

Sam was genuinely surprised when I told him about the bond. He would usually try to find an explanation or guess what it was; this time he was silent. No logical explanation, no guessing, no nothing…

“Well that’s something I have never heard off,” he just told you and went to the library to try and find some books about…

Mind reading?

Bonds?

“I don’t even know what I’m looking for,” he said, looking at the spines of old books on the shelves.

“You’re telling me,” Dean agreed.

“It’s not like I’m a monster with abilities.”

My statement was enough to light a bulb in Sam’s head: “Yes but…” – he went to the second shelf behind you, like he knew what he was looking for – “You’re something else.”

Dean and I looked at each other in confusion before Sam pulled a book from the shelf.

“Indigo children?” I read the covers.

“Huh?” Of course Dean had no idea.

“I mean it makes sense, you said you were always highly empathetic, ever since you were a kid right?”

“Yes,” I nodded as he was flipping the pages trying to find a specific chapter. The book was annotated but it wasn’t his handwriting.

“Also you started reading minds when you were 7?”

“Well kinda.”

“Before that it was like a guessing game, you just knew?”

“Sort of.”

Chapter 54. Abilities.

Indigo children are children who are believed to possess special, unusual, and sometimes supernatural traits or abilities.

“I have been on this Earth for how long and I’ve never connected the dots,” I said, admiring my own stupidity and inability to dig deeper. I was never curious enough to find an explanation for my ability; never cared enough to think about it too deeply; when I started living with Sam and Dean five years ago I told them right away what I could do. They first thought I was Azazel’s long lost special kid, the one that was lucky enough to somehow hide in the shadows back when Azazel was still alive, but that wasn’t the case. My parents were killed by a vampire and I’d never met Azazel; I didn’t even know he existed until they told me. I only knew regular black eyed demons.

“So, you were a gifted kid? That still doesn’t explain your ability to do what you have been doing for a year,” Dean scoffed.

Who names gifted kids indigo kids? Seriously?!

You chuckled.

“Wait, you have been able to do that for a year?” You heard Sam, your eyes still on the book, trying to find something, anything that would indicate the existence of the said bond.

“Yes, why?”

“Go to chapter 55,” he told me. I flipped a few pages until I saw: Chapter 55, Soulmate bonds.

An Indigo child can stumble upon an unprecedented neural synchronization when encountering their soulmate. This synchronization extends beyond telepathic communication, as it involves the transmission and reception of emotional states and dream imagery, resulting in an intimate sharing of thoughts, feelings, and subconscious experiences. Although very rare, it is possible for an Indigo child’s soulmate to be mortal, with no supernatural abilities. If an Indigo child does encounter their soulmate the bond can snap into place usually after 4 or 5 years (one case showed it can also happen after six months).

“I read this book before we met so it never crossed my mind,” I heard Sam say as I was absorbing the information. I’d known him for five years…

Five years…

It made sense.

As I was reading the first chapter out loud Dean’s wave of shock made my heart beat faster as Sam went to the kitchen to get some booze. It was like he read my mind. I have never heard of his bond. As much as I loved the idea of Dean being mine, I knew he came with tons of baggage, untreated alcoholism, and rage so immense it made my stomach turn. I was no better though just with less intensity and alcoholism.

That’s bullshit.

My heart broke hearing these words, but I finally got the courage to look at him, and for the first time his face was unreadable. He was silent. And then he just left.

Sam came back with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and three classes in the other.

“Where’s Dean?”

“He left…to process, I guess,” I said before hearing Dean slamming the front door.

Sam, knowing me too well, didn’t say anything and just poured me a glass of Dean’s fine whiskey. I took a sip feeling a sweet burn down my throat. We were silent for a while, my words buried deep in my mind; struggling to articulate my thoughts as if I had any at that moment.

“How do you feel about all of this?” Sam finally spoke, breaking the pleasant silence.

A lump formed in my throat as I tried to blink back tears. I cleared my throat and took another sip.

“I think…I’m scared to tell him he already has me wrapped around his finger with or without the stupid bond,” my answer was honest. I was scared – terrified of crossing the boundary; breaking the only rule I had: no long term relationships. Anything more than a friendship with Dean would end catastrophically; I was aware of that and yet I still secretly hoped. I wanted him to want me, I wanted him to look at me and see a safe space; I wanted him so painfully to see me and think: “She’s worth it.”

“Oh he knows, he's just being a dick about it,” Sam’s bluntness surfaced as he drank his glass of whiskey.

“What do you mean?” I asked, not really following him.

He knows?

“You two have something I’ve only experienced once in my life and yet you refuse to acknowledge it.”

My forehead creased as I subtly tilted my head in confusion. Then I heard Sam’s voice in my head as he looked at me with a soft smile on his face.

Jessica…

“Oh…” was all I could say.

“Yeah, he was scared before, now he’s probably terrified. Talk to him when he gets back.”

“So he can reject me? And probably tell me to move out? Even if he feels the same, I know Dean, and he would rather give up alcohol for the rest of his life than talk about his feelings.”

Sam snorted and nodded silently agreeing with me.

“Trust me. He won’t reject you. He’s my brother, I know him a little bit better than you do.”

***

Dean was gone for hours it seemed. I couldn’t stop thinking about him, about the bond, so I did what any sane hunter would do – I repressed my thoughts with more whiskey and drowned myself in more research with Sam. The more I drank it felt like I became more sober.

I wanted to know more about this soulmate bond. I wanted to know if there was any other way for people to block me from entering their minds besides strengthening the mental shield.

“I’ve never asked you, how did you find out about the shield anyway?” Sam asked me behind his laptop while I was trying to find books about telepathy.

“A witch told me,” I stated behind bookshelves, “When my parents died I let it control me, I couldn’t stand it, I could hear every single person I came in contact with and it was driving me nuts. So, I found a witch, a good one, and she helped me control it and told me about the shield since she was the first person I couldn’t tap into.”

I remember her fondly. Her white crow would sometimes appear, to let me know she was alive and I would visit her every year on her birthday in winter. I would tell the Winchesters I was seeing an old friend; without adding too much detail, since I knew Dean’s hatred of witches far too well.

“Good witches exist?”

“Oh yeah, she’s wonderful.”

There wasn’t any other way for other people to shield their minds from me, sadly.

“Oh but I think I found something,” Sam told me and turned his laptop towards me. I read the short paragraph and looked at him.

“I can do that?”

“You can try.”

***

Dean was still gone by the time we decided to take a break from research. Sam decided to go for a walk before bed while I went to my room to try and contact Dean through the bond. The article Sam found stated it was possible to contact your soulmate if you focused all of your energy on them.

I have no idea what I’m doing.

I laid on my bed and closed my eyes, picturing Dean standing right in front of me. Even in my mind he made me nervous. His aura was so captivating and stoic; you couldn’t forget him even if you tried. His name escaped my lips a few times, eyes still closed, but all I could hear was dead silence.His face still engraved in my mind, I studied his features: his smile lines, beautiful kissable lips, his perfect nose, freckles…

Dean? I called.

(Y/N), what the hell?

He heard me. I could feel my feet going cold as my body went numb. My heart was in my throat.

I’ll explain later! Please come home, I wanna talk to you.

In a second, my mind lost focus as I became more aware of my nervousness and he was gone. I couldn’t see him anymore.

“Crap!” I uttered in frustration and decided to text him.

Please come home.

***

I heard his footsteps thirty minutes later. I was ready for the worst; I was ready for Dean to tell me to leave; I was ready for all of it to end.

I heard him knock seconds later.

“You there?”

“Come in!”

He closed the door behind him. I was in the middle of trying to read my book, emphasis on trying, since the nervousness turned into full blown anxiety and I couldn’t focus on anything but him. I put the book down as he sat on the bed. I was hit with a sudden smell of cigarettes and alcohol in my nostrils. He probably went to a bar.

“How did you do that?” He asked, this time looking me dead in the eyes. His gaze wasn’t soft – I couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated – his eyes bore into mine with such seriousness I’d only seen a handful of times.

“I did some research with Sam. The bond allows us to communicate telepathically.”

“I-I can also do that?”

“If you concentrate hard enough, yeah.”

An astounded chuckle was all I heard. And then:

This is crazy.

I know.

His lips parted slightly once he realized he could hear me. I on the other hand didn’t want him to hear me, but looking at him, seeing the evident worry and fear in his green eyes, I couldn’t control it. It became natural.

“Where were you?” I asked and boldly decided to sit next to him.

“Went to our favorite hiding spot to think. When thinking became too much, I went to a bar and had a couple of drinks.”

“And? What are your thoughts?”

His hand gently found mine, intertwining his fingers with mine. I wasn’t sure if I was breathing at that moment. I could feel my cheeks burning as he pressed a gentle kiss on my forehead.

“I feel like ignoring how I feel about you just made everything worse.”

I’m terrified.

I ignored it and focused on his actual voice. “And I feel like this bond slapped me in the face.”

“You and me both,” I smiled.

Sam was right after all. I didn’t know what else to say but all I could think about was pressing my lips against his. I wanted to kiss him so badly, but my body refused to cooperate with my mind.

I didn’t need to kiss him first, because his lips found mine in a matter of seconds. The kiss was gentle, warm; his lips perfectly pressed against mine. I opened my mouth letting him know he could explore it with his tongue and he was happy to do so. A whine escaped my lips when he broke the kiss.

“I heard you,” he smirked.

Please stay with me. My mind yelled.

“I will,” he heard me. Again.

***

Dean went to get ready for bed and so did I. It was already 11pm, Sam was long gone, snoring in his room after a long walk and I went to take a shower.

It will probably happen.

Maybe it won’t?

Maybe we will just cuddle and sleep?

Yeah right.

Why am I so nervous?

I’m nervous because the last time I was in love with someone he left me for a girl named Karen.

In high school.

Crap.

My thoughts were racing as I was washing myself and getting ready to spend the night with him. I put on my shirt and a pair of clean underwear before brushing my teeth. I turned off the lights and went under the covers. Somehow it was always cold in my room, no matter the season. I focused on my soft pillow and how it felt against my cheek as I turned on my side. That lasted maybe two seconds as my mind kept drifting and wondering what was coming next. The thought of him pressed against me made me excited; his lips on my neck, hands on my hips…

I didn’t even realize I was rubbing my thighs together, desperately seeking some form of release. Thank God I was tired, a few moments later I could feel my eyelids getting heavier and my body finally relaxing. I wondered where Dean was as I started drifting and soon enough I got my answer.

He would always take long showers; so I wasn’t surprised when he came 15 minutes later. He found me peacefully drifting between realms of reality and dreams, and with his hands wrapped around me pulled me back to reality – to him. My back pressed against him; we stayed like this, as my patience was running low and I could feel myself getting wet.

He was melting any sense of restraint I had and even with nervousness practically suffocating me, I turned around and snuggled against him, his chin resting on top of my head. He was warm; skin soft as I took a deep breath to breathe in his scent – forest after rain and him.

“Did you know?” I whispered into him.

“Huh? What?” His deep raspy voice so close to ears made me shiver.

“Did you know that I have feelings for you?”

Sam said he did, but I wanted to hear from him.

“I suspected it, but refused to believe it. Until Sam confirmed it.”

“How did Sam know? I’ve never told him.” I said and lifted my head to look at him. It was dark, but I could still see the outlines of his face – he smiled at me.

“He told me you get smiling eyes when we are together. I didn’t really know what he meant until we took down that vampire nest back in Austin. I told you, you were an idiot for trying to take down a whole damn nest by yourself and you kept looking at me with those dove lookin’ eyes.”

I smiled. I remembered that. It was a few months ago and I was indeed an idiot. He and Sam almost died and I had to do something. I was reckless and instead of coming up with a plan I let my machete go wild.

“Well it’s not my fault you’re hot when you’re angry.”

I could feel his smirk before I kissed him, this time cupping his cheek with my hand. He immediately kissed back, pulling me closer to him like that was even possible. This time, one kiss turned into another and another. We both didn't want to pull away; his hands hesitantly started roaming under my shirt, instantaneously sending shivers all over my body. I took his hands, breaking the kiss.

“Touch me. I'm yours,” I whispered before kissing him again, not being able to get enough. I could feel his little smirk against my lips as he tugged on my shirt trying to take it off. I took it off and in seconds he took his. My mind was focused on him and only him as I felt his soft skin under my fingertips.

You're going to be the death of me.

Likewise, sweetheart.

This time I smiled between kisses. I liked that nickname, I couldn’t wait to actually hear it out loud. He wasted no time before he pushed me onto the bed and straddle me; his lips not leaving mine. We were like two addicts; we couldn't stop; we didn't want to stop. He pressed his hips on mine and I could feel him, pressed against my wet center. A soft moan escaped my lips as my fingers tugged on his damp hair. He moved his lips on my neck, while his hand found my center. A light brush was enough to make me moan his name. I was so sensitive, so vulnerable underneath him; he was consuming every reverie of my mind.

I was growing impatient, but he knew that, and now I couldn't hide anything from him anymore. The bond was stronger now, we didn't even have to try to communicate with one another; it was like breathing.

I lowered his boxers as much as I could and wrapped my hand around his hard dick, earning a groan from him. I pumped him a few times, as my impatience became his. He kissed me before standing on his knees and took my panties off. He stopped for a second.

Adoration – I could feel it through the bond. He was making me blush in the dark; my cheeks growing warm.

You're so beautiful.

Before I could answer him, he positioned himself between my legs and slowly entered me, stretching me nice and slow; his lips found mine again as he swallowed my gasp and slowly started to move. My legs wrapped around his hips, wanting more, more and more…

I was about to get drunk and see stars. My hands were around his neck before I cupped his face. He broke the kiss when we both couldn't breathe, biting my shoulder lightly, his pace becoming faster.

My mind only knew his name as I was chanting it over and over again, like a sweet prayer. He nuzzled his head in my neck, kissing it sloppily.

“You feel so good, sweetheart,” he whispered in my ear.

I was in a complete haze, unable to muster anything but his name.

His nose resting on my cheek, he placed a soft kiss only to swallow my moans once more, as we both started to fall apart.

“Dean, I-,” I wasn't able to speak, I could feel it in the pit of my stomach and I could tell, feel, he wasn't going to last much longer.

“I know, baby. I know. I can feel it,” he said and I wasn't sure if he could feel it through the bond or if my body was telling him – or both.

My moans became desperate; with that voice Dean could make me do whatever his little heart desired.

We came in sync, eyes locked and growing breathless. He couldn't keep my name out of his mouth and I didn't want him to. When he pulled out and laid next to me we were both panting and growing sleepier. I lazily moved closer to him, kissing his shoulder as he immediately wrapped his hand around my torso and pulled me close.

“And you thought we'd just cuddle,” he chuckled.

I raised my head to look at him.

“You heard me?”

“Yeah, we have to figure out how to not hear each other's thoughts all the time.”

“Well…” I started and he just shot me a death glare.

“I ain't meditating.”

I cupped his face, squeezing his cheeks lightly making his lips pout.

“Fine,” I said and gave him a pack on the lips, “we will find another way.”

“Thank you.”

I stayed in his arms until we both fell asleep. He played with my hair and I drew small circles on his chest. He asked me about the research – what I found, what I didn't – asked me about us.

“If it's meant to be it's meant to be,” my eyelids grew heavy as I mumbled the words and drifted to sleep.

Dean kissed my forehead and closed his eyes.

***

I could feel Dean’s hands pulling me closer to him, his fingers digging into my flesh as my ears heard him say my name in a form of whisper. I lazily opened my eyes not knowing if he was awake or not. His fingers dug into my stomach as he repeatedly called me in a frantic tone.

He’s dreaming.

“Dean?” I turned around and even in complete darkness my eyes registered his clenched jaw, while my body felt the stiffness of his.

“Dean?” I repeated again and nuzzled my head under his chin and placed a gentle kiss on his neck. I knew what he was dreaming about – I was dying again and he was trying to save me.

Dean, baby wake up!

I told him through the bond as I stroked his soft hedgehog-like hair. I could sense the fear lingering within him as his eyes shot open, his breathing came in uneven gasps and his chest was rising and falling frantically. I wrapped my hand around his torso and embraced him in a tight hug as the weight of the nightmare still lingered.

“I’m here,” I repeated a couple of times, giving him the reassurance I knew he needed.

“It’s just a dream, Dean.”

His breathing became stable again.

“You died,” eventually he told me. The fear was gone and replaced with sadness – sadness so somber and heavy I only felt once when Charlie died.

“No, I didn’t. I’m here,” I told him and placed his hand on my chest.

“I’m right here,” I said before kissing him. A sigh of relief left his lips.

“I feel like I’m gonna lose it…the same dream over and over.”

He was desperate, so desperate for answers it made my soul ache, but I knew this wasn’t the time.

“I know, and we will figure it out. Sleep baby, I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered before kissing him lovingly. His hand found my cheek as I broke the kiss resting my forehead against his.

“Your struggles are mine. Your sadness is mine. You're mine,” I told him as my legs intertwined with his. My hand was on his chest, feeling his heart beating faster. Something was traveling through the bond, something lovely and warm I could only describe it as love. Suddenly I heard it; a whisper traveling through the bond: I love you, before he kissed me again.

I love you too.

Tagged: @lacilou , @littlemadamred , @girls-alias , @captainannatheweirdo , @nancymcl

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httpknjoon · 1 year ago

Text

spotted | jjk

plot | This is how it started for the princess and the rockstar.

words | 3.8k

genres | fluff, modern royalty!au, celebrity!au

pairing | rockstar!jungkook x princess!reader

note | hi!! this is my first entry for this series and I'm so excited to write more about this pair in the future. let me know your thoughts! enjoy reading :)

main masterlist | drabble series

Royal Sisters, Princesses YN and Astrid Spotted Dancing at Sweet September’s Concert

On Friday night, the princesses were snapped watching the rock band at Crystalline Stadium.

Following the closing of the Royal Games earlier that day, Princesses YN, 25, and Astrid, 19, were spotted attending another big event in the country: Sweet September’s first Denim Jungle stop.

Fans of the rock band were stunned to see the two royalties in the said concert. Although the two sat in secluded seats in the stadium, they still attracted attention. Some concertgoers managed to capture pictures and short clips of the royalties enjoying the band’s performance– mostly Princess Astrid.

The usual contrast between the royal sisters is evident during their presence. Princess Astrid sported a rock-themed outfit with her oversized black leather jacket, red graphic tank top, flare jeans, and platform boots. On the other hand, Princess YN stayed true to her classy fashion style, wearing a black and white-collared Prada dress and knee-high boots. Both princesses wore black sunglasses during the whole event. The youngest sang and danced along to Sweet September’s tracks while the crown princess just nods her head to the beat.

Worry not! Princess Astrid made Princess YN jump and dance along with her during the band’s performance of their hit song, My Fair Lady.

“You two will have your own entrance and exit spots. Ronnie and Ben would accompany you two to the entrance and would meet you at the same gate after the concert.”

Your father’s trusty courtier, Eddie, guided you and your sister with what you’re supposed to do. There were rules you have to remember. Especially since Astrid practically begged your parents to not have bodyguards with her in this event. Your father only agreed to let her come if you come too, knowing that you rarely go out outside of your royal duties. But since you love your sister, you agreed to go even though you don’t really listen to Astrid’s types of music.

After the closing of Zafiro’s Royal Games earlier this day, your parents left for a conference in Scotland. That reason made you in charge of your younger sister. But since you two don’t really live in a simple household, you are still looked after by your Royal Staff for your safety.

“Is that all, Uncle?”

Astrid already had her arms crossed as she asked that. It’s been fifteen minutes since your car arrived in front of this secret entrance to the concert. But because of the King’s instructions, you and your sister are now itching in your seats to go.

Eddie smiled, noticing your sister’s tone, “I know you are excited about this concert, Your Royal Highness. But His Majesty still has one last message… and this is a very important one so listen.”

Your sister is ready to let out an exaggerated sigh. You are ready to calm down her rising shoulders. But Eddie continued,

“Please remind my lovely girls to enjoy the night amidst my tiring instructions. Take pictures and sing along. I would love to hear stories from them about this very important concert– based on what my Astrid said– when I and my queen get back from our short trip to Scotland. Follow what your Uncle Eddie says.”

A small smile formed on your lips with that. Finally, Eddie lets you two go with your bodyguards until the gate. Then, Gerald, a nice concert staff, welcomed you into the venue and led you and your sister to your seats.

“Oh, my god. I cannot believe Papa let us come here alone.” your sister said as she slipped the Xyloband into her wrist.

“I know…” your voice trailed off when you heard the people singing along to the song playing not too far away. You turned to the staff, “Excuse me, is the concert starting already?”

“No, Ma’am. We’re just playing the band’s music videos before they perform on stage. But they will be performing in a few minutes.”

You nodded with that. You went to concerts before, but not like this one. You liked jazz and classical music and would always try to go to concerts whenever you can. Those concerts are very much different than this band’s.

“These are your seats, Your Royal Highnesses,” Gerald spoke.

“Thank you so much.” you and Astrid said as you walked to the two empty seats.

With that, the staff left you. The seats are not that close or far from the main stage and it’s in the center. For safety purposes, your father and the security team agreed to not put you two in the floor spots where you can see the band better. Still, Astrid finds these spots great.

You assumed your father pulled some strings to make this possible since you heard from Astrid that the tickets were sold out as soon as it’s started selling. It made you wonder what’s good in Sweet September. You probably heard about them before, mainly because Astrid’s a rock-music enthusiast, but you don’t really know anything about them. Except that they recently worked with UNICEF for a campaign focused on cyberbullying. But you know nothing about their music.

“Oh, look at that! Look at those signs!”

Your sister was laughing while she points her finger somewhere. Your eyes followed where she was pointing.

DEAR CARTER, I’M A DRUMMER TOO. LET ME ROCK YOU! ;)

I SOLD MY CAR FOR THIS

MARRY ME MINGYU

HAIL KING WOOSUNG

CAN Y’ALL BE MY VALENTINE <3

Among those aggressive signs, there is one that made your eyes stretch wide and look away.

JUNGKOOK LET ME PUT OIL ON YOUR ABS

What was that supposed to mean? You wanted to ask Astrid but she was already talking to another fan who’s seating beside her. The said fan seemed surprised and delighted at the same time when she locked eyes with you for a second. You just smiled. As a highly-regarded crown princess, you know that they least expect you to show up in a rock concert next to them.

You then turned to your other side, where you immediately locked eyes with a lady who seemed a bit older than you. She instantly looked away and slowly looked back after a few seconds. She probably thought you were not looking at her anymore. But you are. And you can tell who she is by her awkward aura and stiff movements.

Part of showing respect to royalties, the public cannot talk to you until you speak with them first. So you decided to say something directly.

“Did the King hire you?” you asked her in a small whisper.

You don’t Astrid to hear it. You want her to focus on the fact that she is free from your parents’ overprotectiveness tonight. You can see the hesitation on her face but you can already tell that she is a secret security Eddie hired.

“It’s fine. I understand.” you gave her a reassuring smile. “Please, enjoy the concert too.”

The woman nods and bows subtly. You turned away. Astrid already has new friends. Between you two, she definitely is the friendlier one. It’s not like you are hostile. But she is just more carefree than you. Ever since you were a kid, you already followed the rules by the book. You know that you are in line for the throne and you need to be rightful for it. So you always try to be professional in your duties. You studied and work for your country.

“It’s a surprise to see you in here, Your Royal Highness.” one of Astrid’s new friends said.

“Please, just call me Astrid or you can add that princess title if you’re uncomfortable with calling me by name.” she quipped and they laughed. “Actually, the King only let me come here when Princess YN agreed to accompany me.”

Her friends’ mouths all formed into a small o. You waved at them, and they bow their heads. Suddenly, the lights slowly dimmed down and everyone began screaming– including Astrid. To say that your sister is excited was an understatement. It’s like she slept with a hanger in her mouth with how wide she’s smiling. Your cheeks hurt for her. But you’re happy to see her happy.

Taps on the microphone can be heard before someone cleared their throat, building up everyone’s excitement. You stood there, just listening to them and observing.

“Everyone, welcome to the denim jungle!”

Someone began playing a good riff on a bass guitar. The band’s silhouette is recognizable on stage. In the first beat of the drum, the lights snapped open. There, your eyes directly spotted the lead vocalist.

Droplets of sweat made his skin feel gluey as he ran his hand through his damp dark hair. His plain form-fitting white top is almost useless with how it almost got transparent with his body. His chest heaves as he removes his earpiece.

“Great show tonight, boys!”

A staff greeted them on their way down from the stage. After almost three hours of singing, playing with instruments, and interacting with the audience, Jungkook can finally feel relief in his body. With his throat feeling a little sore earlier, he was careful with it throughout the whole concert.

“Okay, let’s take a picture first!” a staff declared.

Jungkook, Carter, Mingyu, and Woosung lined up and posed for a couple of pictures that their staff would post later. After that, the four talked about their performance as they cool off.

“My earpiece is a mess.” Woosung shared. “I cannot hear the drums well. I think it stopped working for a few seconds during Blue Skies.”

“Okay, we have extra of those. You can test your new one in your next rehearsals.” Tara, their manager, responded.

The others shared their thoughts for tonight. Jungkook just listened for the sake of his throat. When he felt it getting strained, he cleared his throat and reached for a bottle of water.

“How are you feeling now?” Mingyu tapped his shoulder.

“The same,” he answered shortly. “It didn’t feel better or worse than earlier.”

“Well, let’s go back to the hotel to let our Jungkook rest,” Carter replied.

The others agreed before standing up from the soft couch. Jungkook is already heading straight to their dressing room when Tara spoke.

“By the way, you had very special guests tonight. It made tonight’s tag trend worldwide on Twitter.”

Being trending is not new with the group. Ever since they started the tour a month ago, they have been on various social media trend lists every other day. They also had bid celebrities and personalities as part of the audience before.

“Who? The king?” Mingyu joked, making the others chuckle.

Tara clicked her tongue, “Eh, close. It’s his daughters, the royal princesses.”

The boys stopped in their tracks. Even Jungkook froze. He did not even notice his members simultaneously turning their heads in his direction. As if they were waiting for him to say something. Instead, it was Tara who spoke again.

“Maybe we can meet them.”

All while the concert was happening, a fan who was also present in the event posted a stolen picture of you and Astrid. It led to your name and Astrid’s trending. Fans were excited to see royalties in such an event.

@/rockjeykey: no one told me princess astrid is a fan

@/denimparty: SOMEONE TELL JUNGKOOK ABOUT THIS

@/CRAYONNO7: YOOOOO i was just a few seats next to them! THEY ARE SO NICE AND FUN I HAD SMALL TALKS WITH THEM PRINCESS YN SAID SHE LIKES MY BAND SHIRT

Replying to @/CRAYONNO7

- @/eunwoobass: ur so lucky!!!

@/ASTRIDLOML: i’d like to think yn is astrid’s forever chaperone in events 🤣

Replying to @/ASTRIDLOML

- @/crownprincessyn: haha going to a rock concert is not so yn 😆😆

@/multifandommyg: imagine having zafiro’s princesses as your fans

@/sweetmonthof9th: i want to see the boys' reactions 💀

@/cartermatters: lolololol mingyu would be teasing the hell out of jk

@/ZafiroRoyaltyNews: Princesses YN and Astrid attended Sweet September’s concert after today’s royal events! 💜✨ #DenimJungleInZF [insert photos]

@/SweetSeptember_twt: Hey! Hey! Hey! Rubies are red. Sapphires are blue. You guys are a gem that is hard to find! A big 💜 to Zafiro. Thank you all for coming tonight! #DenimJungleInZF

“Thank you so much!”

Your mouth felt dry. You lost track of how many times you gulped throughout the whole performance as your eyes focused on someone. You felt like in a haze– a very hot one.

Jungkook.

That’s his name, right? Whoever he is, he has the prettiest voice. You rarely listen to their genre of music but you managed to be entertained the whole time. But you don’t know why. When you saw him in that white shirt after he removed his leather jacket on stage, your brain stopped working for seconds. It’s probably because you didn’t expect him to have that arm sleeve tattoo.

It’s so pretty.

He’s so pretty.

“Oh! That was so much fun! Thank you so much for going here with me.” Astrid cut off your thoughts. “I know this isn’t your type of music. So, I really appreciate you here with me.”

She jumped to hug you and you hugged her back, trying to cleanse off the thoughts in your mind. You just excuse your reaction now as a shock since this is your first rock concert. After saying goodbye to her friends, Astrid pulled you with her out of your seats. She continued talking to you about her excitement. You tried to listen but failed. You just remembered that lead singer playing with that guitar like his life depended on it. His fingers were smooth on playing that thing like he’s used to–

“Excuse me! Excuse me! Princess YN! Princess Astrid!”

Again, you snapped out of your thoughts. Both you and Astrid turned your head back when you heard your names. The lady who was next to you during the concert is now wearing her security earpiece. She was probably following you two since you walked out but you didn’t notice for obvious reason. She also looked at that someone who called for you.

That someone was also a concert staff. You read that card that she wears in her lanyard that says, MANAGER. She was almost out of breath when you stopped.

“Oh, I apologize for the informalities, Your Royal Highnesses.” she tried to speak with her hands on her knees, to catch her breath. After some seconds, she continued, “I am Tara Montez, Sweet September’s manager.”

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Montez.” you smiled, offering your hand for a shake, which she accepted. Astrid also did the same thing.

“Nice to meet you too, Princess YN and Princess Astrid. Thank you so much for being here!” You see Tara paused. “It was totally unexpected and rare to see princesses at the band’s concerts. Uhm… We were hoping the band could meet you. They are big fans of your country. It would be an honor for them to meet you two even just for a short time.”

Astrid audibly gasped. You looked at her and her eyes say it all. You can even see the sparkles in her eyes. You can also hear your bodyguard communicating through her wireless device. You’re sure Eddie would definitely want you to walk out of the venue now but you know your sister would love the offer. It’s a one-time thing.

So before your bodyguard can interfere, you answered.

“Of course.”

Back in the green room, Jungkook and the other members now showered and changed into their casual clothes. Carter and Woosung munched on the chips they saw on the table. Mingyu was giggling as he secretly takes a clip of Jungkook walking back and forth.

“What should we do?” he asked them, trying to keep his cool. But everyone can tell, he’s failing. He just never thought he would meet any royalty– you.

Out of distraction from the chips, Carter replied, “Curtsy?”

Before the others can laugh with that, the door opened and they immediately stood up straight. Carter and Woosung wiped their hands and even sanitized them. Mingyu wiggled his eyebrows at Jungkook. The latter gave him an annoyed look.

“And this is Sweet September.” Tara, who got in first, introduced them.

Jungkook’s heart almost stopped when he sees you entering with your small smile. Every photograph posted in the news and articles didn’t give your beauty any justice as he found you more attractive now you’re in the same room as him. When you locked eyes with him, he swore his heart fluttered.

Following what Carter said, Jungkook was ready to curtsy when you spoke.

“Oh… Uhm, we don’t really do that here, Mister. That’s more of like the UK’s thing. A bow would be fine.”

Everyone in the room laughed except you, who tried to be professional. But you found it cute. Especially when you saw that tint of red forming across his cheeks.

“Oh— uhm— My apologies, my quee– princess.”

“It’s your royal highness, dumbass.” his bandmate whisper-shouted at the back.

Your sister scoffed, finding the lead vocalist’s mistake as funny. You looked at her sternly. She acted appropriately again. You looked back at the boys again, trying to break your sight away from Jungkook.

“Thank you so much for coming to our country. I’ve never seen a crowd as energetic as that.” you began the conversation to break the ice. “It’s a surprise for me to hear our people here singing almost every song in your set. I just learned they are a big fan of your group.”

“How about you, Your Royal Highness,” Jungkook asked. He doesn’t know where he’s getting all this strength to talk to you. But he just knows that this might be his first and last.

You replied with the truth, “Oh– I– this is actually my first time listening to your music. Princess Astrid right here just invited me to go here with her.”

“She’s more of a jazz fan.” Astrid shared and they nodded.

Before the conversation continues, your bodyguard spoke, “Excuse me. Madams. The Royal Staff is asking us to go out now.“

Woosung was quick to request when they heard that, “Can we take a picture with you, Royal Highnesses?”

“Of course!”

This time, Astrid replied with uncontained excitement. You stood in between the four members. Mingyu was supposed to be next to you but he pulled Jungkook to exchange places with him. Jungkook instantly smelled the sweet and flowery scent just by being next to you while you ignored that strange feeling in your stomach when you felt your arms touched.

“Okay, one… two… three!”

The band stood in line once again after that. You and Astrid shook hands with them in turns. You introduced yourselves and so they did too. Ever since you were a kid, when you began attending public royal events, you always followed the royal protocol. In every person you met, you would shake their hand while having good eye contact. Another part of the protocol is the public cannot physically touch you unless you initiated it first. So, you did.

The boys seemed surprised but showed their respect by bowing their heads while you shook hands with each of them. You just hoped your hand was not stone cold since you felt like it was since you stood in front of their lead vocalist. But when it comes to the last person in the line, Jungkook smoothly managed to kiss the back of your hand when you offer it for a handshake.

You were taken aback by the action. Not because he did it. But because it felt something else. The kiss was feather-like. It was light and brief. But you felt something electric run through your veins the moment his lips touched your skin. Your heart shivered. Then, it suddenly beat fast and you’re scared that everyone around you can hear it. You gulped as you made eye contact with him again.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Your Royal Highness,” his deep and slightly hoarse voice said. It made you feel things you don’t know and you hate and like it at the same time. “I’ve read a lot about you.”

You pursed your lips, “You did?”

“Yeah.”

You wanted to ask and know more about what he reads about you. But before you can say anything again,

“The Royal Courtier is waiting, ma’am.” the guard interrupted.

You tried not to show annoyance. But sighed.

“Well, we shall go. Our staff is waiting outside.” you smiled. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay here in our country. Congratulations on your concert.”

They bowed and you turned around with Astrid, ready to leave the room.

“Wait!” Mingyu stopped you one more time. “Is there any way we can reach out to you and invite you girls again to our future events? E-mail? Phone number? Telephone number?”

Your sister was over the moon hearing that while you tried to hide the smirk forming on your lips. Jungkook knows what his friend is doing and he is somewhat thankful for Mingyu.

“The only way to contact us is through Zafiro’s Royal Communication Office. I believe their e-mail and telephone numbers are on their websites.” you sounded like you were teasing. But you just honestly found their attempt funny. “Other than that, feel free to send us a letter through the mail.”

Of course, you would not give your personal number. Jungkook thought. Do you even have that? You probably have your own assistant who answered calls for you. It is known to almost everyone that even though every royalty in Zafiro has their own social media accounts, you just use them to share your duties and advocacies.

“Again, it was nice meeting your band. We hope you come back to our country soon.”

You left the room, sharing knowing glances with your sister.

While on their way back to their hotel, Jungkook scrolls on his Instagram account. His notifications were on blast as usual. But something caught his attention when he almost exit the app.

97.sapphire is now following you!

His eyes squinted. He clicked on the account. It only has twelve followers and two posts. It follows nothing. The account’s two posts are photos of artworks. One is a watercolor painting of a flower field during sunset. While the other is a detailed pencil drawing of what seemed like a coffee shop. Then, another notification popped out.

97.sapphire sent you a message.

Jungkook raised an eyebrow before he clicked on it. Without really expecting anything, he reads the message. As he go through the words, his eyebrow lowered while his lips formed into a smile.

let me know what do u want to read more about this pair! :) thank you so much for reading.

taglist rules

THE PRINCESS AND THE ROCKSTAR TAGLIST

@heartjiminie @rbrm094 @rjsmochii @jjkreblog @sugaslittlekookies @saintsugar @thvlover7 @alpha-mommy69 @natalia-rmnva @coralmusicblaze @stupendouscookiehumanmug @namgoogieee @yoonjinhusbands @borahaeb1ch @lilliankoo @0rubyrose0

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @miyukihoshi @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88 @moonchild1

#bts humor #bts fluff #bts imagines #bts x reader #bts series #bts established relationship au #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #jungkook drabble #jungkook x reader #jungkook series #rockstar jungkook #the princess and the rockstar jjk #bts meet cute au

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writingwithcolor · 11 months ago

Text

Am I handling the black woman character’s murder well?

@selfdxd2 asked:

Hello! My current project is a crime fiction set in KY, USA in which the instigating action is the death of a young black woman (W), with the first half being another young woman (L) investigating her disappearance and how it correlates with the disappearance of her close friend. That friend (P) is later found alive after having been kidnapped because he witnessed the crime, and is the POV character of the second half. He is also a white man, and him being white is relevant to other aspects of the story. My intention is for the "credit" for solving W's death to go almost entirely to L (who is also a woman of color, specifically Romani), and for the tragedy to be centered around the unfair loss of life and the pain of her parents and others who knew W rather than how bad P feels about it. My main cast also has two other prominent black women with arcs that extend outside this tragedy. All of this is intended to lend to one of the story's major themes of social invisibility vs visibility. So does this exploration of that stray into harmful territory from the outset? I know successfully keeping away from any white manpain traps will take active caution while actually writing the story and I intend to get sensitivity readers as I work on it, but I wanted to get some feedback on my starting point before going too far down that road. Thanks so much for all you do!

It is important for us to know why this young Black woman was murdered to give specific advice.

Was it racially motivated, gender motivated, or both?

Wrong place, wrong time?

Did someone take revenge?

Was she involved in something insidious?

Was it truly an accident?

Depending on the reason, you should explore and acknowledge this violence and the existing societal problem behind it. For help, see the crime stats on violence against Black women.

…and for the tragedy to be centered around the unfair loss of life and the pain of her parents and others who knew W rather than how bad P feels about it.

Yes, give a voice to the people most affected by her death. Other Black women, people, and Women of Color. This will help further not make it about the feelings of a white man. He is absolutely a victim of the crime too, being kidnapped, so his trauma does matter and should be tended to. But ultimately, he gets to live.

On that note, his life being worth kidnapping vs. ending begs the question; why wasn’t he murdered while the Black woman’s life had to end? And for representation purposes, why couldn’t it be the other way around (Where the Black woman lives and witnesses the crime, and the white man dies)?

This is why knowing your reasoning for her death is so important.

Otherwise, if she was thoughtlessly murdered, it does feel like her life was incredibly devalued in your story due to her being a Black woman. It’s a serious and true problem, so I'm not saying not to write this. This just needs careful exploring. If you’re choosing to bring this real life problem into your story, it deserves full and respectful acknowledgement.

Please check out our resources on writing tragic material, Black suffering and abuse and avoiding exploitation.

More reading: tragedy exploitation tag

~Mod Colette

#Death #murder #tw #Black women #Black person dies first #Tragedy exploitation #Black suffering

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faeiri-tft · 1 year ago

Note

PLEASE do the toontown online rant i want it so badly

this post kinda got away from me, and by "got away from me" i mean this 3000 word toontown rant is Part One. there will be a Part Two to this later in which i actually talk about the fanservers i wanted to talk about. anyway let's go

toontown online (tto) was a children's mostly-turn-based subscription MMO released in 2003. after a few years of obviously being on life support, disney gave a one-month notice that tto (and several other games) would be closing on september 19th, 2013. on the same day the game closed, the fan-run server toontown rewritten (ttr) was announced (with multiple other fanservers/fangames/reimaginings being established since), and is a few months away from outliving the original game

see, one thing about tto that allowed fanservers to crop up so quickly and easily was that it had, um, interesting choices. very interesting choices. like, "kids could use a code injector to turn their backyards into giant mashed-together nightmarescapes"-level choices

youtube

(loose video description: a rabbit toon running around a chaotic mismash of rooms, obstacles, and npcs that Should Not Be There. audio caption: Evanescence's "Bring Me To Life".)

but ok let's talk about the actual game first.

toontown online (tto)

the game starts with you creating your player character - you can pick from eventually-9 species, a couple body types, and 2 dozen preset colors. the gender code is a spaghetti nightmare but you won't learn this until the fanservers come about so don't worry about it. you're then taken to the Toontorial, which explains maybe 20% of the game's mechanics before setting you loose into the main game

the toontorial also gives you the basic "plot", such as it is: Toontown is suddenly* under attack by a bunch of boring businessrobots called the Cogs. their goal is to turn toontown into a dreary gray featureless corporate hell; their business activities are so boring that they're physically painful to be around. luckily, they can't take a joke, so the toons have figured out how to defeat them: by playing pranks on them until they laugh so hard they Explode

*originally, the game installer had a little animation giving a backstory for the Cogs' creation. this was never referenced in game, removed pretty quickly, and i think even the devs kinda forgot it existed

that's...pretty much the whole story! in that context, your toon progresses through all of toontown, helping some mostly-pretty-interchangeable shopkeepers, reclaiming buildings from the cogs, eating ice cream, etc. occasionally, the cogs would Come Up With New Tricks (read: major content update) and the toons would Find A Way To Fight Back (read: same major content update). that was the closest thing to Plot, unless you count "the devs scheduled a bunch of invasions of high-tier cogs right before the game's closure". but...i doubt most the kids really expected a Plot. mickey mouse was there

the gameplay:

the Free Account

there were two...pretty different approaches to playing toontown online. when the game launched, there was a 3-day free trial to the entire game, after which you got kicked entirely until you subscribed. at some point, this was changed so that the first area, Toontown Central (TTC), was Always Free - you could do all of that area's quests/"taskline" and limited activities, indefinitely, and in theory this would make you beg your parents for the rest of the game

i have no idea if this actually got more subscriptions or not. from what i can tell it just spawned more warrior cats

(source)

there were. a Lot of warrior cats. there were some other social activities, too, such as Fashion Shows (with your limited range of clothes) and Begging Subscribed Players To Summon Cog Buildings To TTC and Getting Chat Banned. ...however, as one of the subscription kids i didn't really interact with this side of the game, so i'm not the best person to talk about it

2. the Paid Account

mmm look at those crisp clear graphics. hell yes

a subscription account gave you access to this whole map, along with all these areas' tasklines. to progress through the game, you must complete a variety of "ToonTasks" for the Toon Resistance (it's called that. their catchphrase is "Toons of the World, Unite!". you were giving disney money for this). these reward you by increasing your max health (your "Laff Points"), slowly unlocking more combat options, and sending you to different, higher-difficulty areas of toontown

some of these tasks were...longer than others. generally, though, they all boiled down to: "just go fight some cogs"

combat:

(source)

toontown battles are turn-based: the players use their attacks ("gags") first, and then any surviving cogs attack you with, usually, office equipment and puns thereof (unless the cog is e.g. a Loan Shark, in which case they can just fucking bite you). if you defeat a cog, it explodes; if the cog defeats you, you "go sad" and are sent back to the safety of the playground, lose your gag inventory, and can't leave until you heal.

early on, most your battles are 1v1, but later on almost everything is a multiplayer 4-ish-v-4.

an...interesting feature here in the game's early days was that you could only Type Your Own Words to someone who shared their "friend code" with you IRL. otherwise, you had to use this thing:

(source)

you had a set list of phrases you could string together, which generally covered most the things you wanted to say. but it could get frustrating when you wanted to have a real conversation with your toontown friends! so...as the source above mentions, people obviously found ways around the system. turns out that if you let players move objects around their houses, they will use that to Draw Letters and pass their friend code along regardless

eventually - before the warrior cats, of course - disney presumably realized this system was pretty goofy (🥁) , so the game got a real chat, albeit one that functioned on a very strict whitelist. my favorite is that it didn't let you type numbers, however you could just say won too tree for hive etc. like. disney i really don't know what to tell you. anyway

(isn't he charming)

cogs come in levels 1-12, with levels displayed above their heads, and as you'd expect their damage output and HP increase with their level. however, the game doesn't...actually show you cog HP? instead they have a little colored light on their chest that fades from green to red until they explode. you see numbers on all the damage you do, and you see your own HP/laff, but never the cogs'. also lategame cogs are Too Tall For You To See Their Level once they line up for battle (which isn't actually that bad but it's funny). there's a formula for HP per level, but it's never mentioned in-game. i guess someone can teach it to you but then you have to watch them type "a level tin cog has won tree too health" and is that really worth it

(as you can tell i just…don't get this. "my kid is practicing arithmetic with toontown!" - marketing angle expressly denied by god. the stealth edutainment was right there)

anyway! in theory, you have seven base combat options ("gag tracks"), which combine in a variety of ways:

toon-up, which restores your teammates' health;

trap, which does guaranteed high damage but only if someone uses lure;

lure, which stuns the cogs for a few turns and is the only way to make trap work

sound, which does low damage to every cog;

throw, which does medium-high-ish damage to one cog; multiple throws combined give percentage combo damage, and hitting a lured cog will also add percentage "knockback damage";

squirt, which is exactly like throw but less damage;

and drop, which does high damage but cannot hit lured cogs, and has low accuracy unless you hit the cog with something else first

each gag track has 6 levels, which you unlock by using that gag track a bunch. you can't carry as many of the high levels with you - i mean, putting one piano in your backpack makes perfect sense, but two is just silly, right

a few years into the game's lifespan, level 7s were added - these were huge AOE that you could regain with every 500 track EXP. there was also something called "organic gags" to promote the please-log-in-every-day gardening system

every player starts with throw and squirt, and throughout the game you slowly unlock four more gag tracks. your choices are permanent: once you have your six tracks, you're locked out of the seventh forever.

in theory, all of this opens up a huge variety of combat options!

in practice, the battle strategy looks something like this:

use sound

as mentioned, almost all of lategame will be 4v4 battles, which means sound will almost always outdamage everything on earth. you don't even need four foghorns (the highest normal sound gag) to break 200 AOE damage, and the highest health a cog EVER has is 200*. and two of the boss battles can reward you with gag restocks and heals that you can use mid-battle with no consequences (other than having to grind for those rewards a bunch). and failing THAT, you can just...ration your foghorns and take 2 turns to clear a set of cogs, interspersed with healing.

(*okay there was something called "v2.0 cogs" but they were...strange, and we just used sound anyway)

sure, once level 7s were added you could use those occasionally. and you could fall back on lure+throw if you didn't want to use your sound restocks. but even then, for most of tto's existence there was something called the "knockback bug" which. well. just look at it

(link for transcript. it's tvtropes sorry)

if you are a target-audience eight-year-old this translates to "lure + throw will only do enough damage if the cogs Feel like it." like it's really just insult to injury at this point. this was the result of One misplaced variable and was not fixed until the game closed

in the tto era, if you didn't have sound, you were kinda doomed to be kicked out of every fight forever

(bonus fun fact: there were Four entire battle themes and they were 40-second midi loops. let me out)

the bosses:

each of the four cog departments has a Boss Cog. to face off against them, you have to assemble a cog disguise and collect enough merits/stock options/whatever to be allowed into the boss's office.

(pictured: your convincing disguise)

when you enter, your disguise pops off due to Reasons, and you have to fight through...a bunch of waves of normal cogs. it's basically a really long normal battle. once the minions are dealt with, you have to, inexplicably, do a live-action battle against the boss themself:

youtube

(loose video description: four toons defeating the CFO by using magnet cranes to hit him in the face with safes for 32 seconds.)

the live-action rounds aren't supposed to go this quickly, but it's still...kinda strange? certain reoccurring game areas require Parkour, but there are no battles like this outside of the Four bosses. the CFO's room is the only place you see these cranes and they have A Lot Going On. the other 3 bosses have their own unique weird mechanics. before the first boss was added we neither had nor needed the ability to Jump. it's just weird

once you've defeated the boss, you're given a reward of varying usefulness (the best/most unbalanced reward type is Unites, which are a free heal or gag restock you can do inside or outside of battle. essentially lategame toons can simply choose not to die. riv2u etc.)

and, um. then you get some more merits/stock options/whatever and do it again. and again. and again. and again. and agai

the grind:

so the thing is that tto was a subscription mmo. every addition to the game had to be measured, above all, in terms of "how can we best get kids to beg their parents to give us money." this especially shows in the suit grind:

(source/source)

you have to defeat each boss 78 times in order to get all their laff points - and as you proceed, you have to defeat an increasing amount of cogs to even be allowed into the boss (although once you max you get in for free).

by far the easiest way is to run through the designated HQ facilities - basically, cog fights interspersed with some platforming or minigames. you only collect your merits/whatever at the Very End of the facility. the only way to increase what a facility gives you is if your last battle ends during an "invasion" - a timed period where One Specific Cog replaces all street cogs, usually summoned with boss rewards.

the sellbot HQ grind isn't so bad. bossbot HQ - the endest-game HQ - frequently requires you to do an hour-long facility and on six separate occasions you have to do seven of them. if the invasion ends before your final battle, you have to sit around until someone summons another. if you lose your internet connection because it's 2008, or if your parents make you come to dinner, or if hacking or the game's general bugginess cause a server reset because you're probably in the busiest district for the invasion bonus, you have spent that Entire Hour On Nothing. the CEO (bossbot cog boss) probably also takes an hour because you and your fellow players are 10

this shit, combined with laff points locked behind gardening (time-gated), racing and golfing (multiplayer minigames with absurd requirements), and fishing (RNG-based with some fish being absurdly rare. i watched my mom fish for one every day for a month), meant that maxing a toon took Years, if you managed it ever.

it wasn't, um. it wasn't good

ok so what else is wrong with this game:

i had "aged out of the game" (lol) by the early '10s, so i'm not the best person to do a writeup of the hacking/scripting situation of those days. that said, what i'm going to do is give you a few examples, and i want you to just...look at them

(source)

(source). early '10s youtube was funny i'm trying to decide if i miss it

(source). fun thing to note here is that other players had collision, so a swarm of t-posing toons could just barricade the gag shop if they wanted to

youtube

(video description: toon who has Replaced His Head Model With An Anime Logo throwing thousands of jellybeans at everyone) (cw mild flashing just in case? and also the feather headband accessory)

i should note that the Bring Me To Life vid i started with was client-side, meaning only the player could see their technicolor hellscape. this guy's face was server-side. i do Not Think you should be able to do that

youtube

(video description: a player demonstrating use of a bot to get into the nutty river district, followed by other players using it to go to different game areas)

the above video was posted on august 17th, 2013. if you don't want to watch an Unregistered Hypercam 3 recording at about 5 frames per second, what's going on here is:

the player goes to a specific location and says a specific speedchat phrase.

a bot toon teleports to their location and provides some prompts on how to use it

the player tells the bot, via speedchat, to teleport to the (currently closed from the outside) busiest district so the player can follow

these "taxi toons" were server-sided, persisted across server resets, were made by a future fanserver dev, had younger kids referring to them as a "glitch" as if this were something that could Accidentally Happen, and stayed functional until the game closed

like...a lot of the "hacking" was just baby's first script download. this one - afaict also created by the laughing man head guy - is like...the fact that after years of no substantial game updates, someone effectively programmed their own "QOL feature" (note: not actually good for the poor mid-00s server being turned into a clown car) into a silly disney MMO and it just fucking sat there for a year is just. it's just.

i don't know what this is. this is not Playing The Game Toontown Online. this is nothing. this is everything. there are comments from 2013 on some of these videos saying stuff like "hackers killed toontown", but your game cannot have this happen if it is not already dying

and, like...it was. i'm not sure how many moderators there were by this point, but at the very end of tto, the number of active devs was One. the original devteam recently brought this up at the 20th anniversary celebration: devs just...slowly started getting pulled from the game, one at a time. there were a few updates after bossbot HQ - Field Offices, which i've basically never heard anything good about in their tto form ever; the Silly Meter, a yearly event...thing whose main function was to add unskippable dancing-inanimate-object cutscenes to your street battles; Parties, which...yknow parties were okay actually. i accept parties. but they weren't exactly a Major Game Update like the ones that had come before. in 2011 we gained the ability to Wear Hats. in 2012 the test server got some actual QOL updates that never made it to the main game; the final test server update was some maintenance in february, and then nothing for 18 months. disney was not providing enough resources to address the scripting because disney was not providing enough resources to address toontown. imagine being the last dev standing on an MMO that was older than some of its players, was losing its business model to mobile gaming, and spent most of its life falling apart at the seams. just imagine it, for a second

it couldn't have kept going, not like this.

on august 20, 2013, the closing announcement came: we had a month left of toontown online. the test server shut immediately; subscription refunds went out, and the game became actually F2P for the month; the part of the announcement that went like "we're shifting our focus to other games!" made a bunch of twelve-year-olds hate club penguin as if club penguin wouldn't also close in a few years; all the holiday events went off at once; and...

there wasn't a "thanks for playing!" popup. everyone online just got kicked, all at once. it was finally over

hey wait.

#toontown #toontown online #tto #tft talks #tft stuff #<- this goes in that tag i think #this was like. enrichment. thank you

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thefallennightmare · 1 year ago

Text

Just Pretend-nine

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: PLEASE, we are begging you guys. Take your time with this one, so many different emotions throughout. Its a big fucking deal and read it slow, immerse yourself in this world while listening to the playlist. Enjoy my lovelies. 😉

Collaborating With: @thescarlettvvitch(better give her all the love as well)

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @ozwriterchick @waake-meee-up @notingridslurkaccount @niicoleleigh @sammyjoeee @xxrainstorm @dominuslunae @notmaddihealy @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @iknownothingpeople @writethrough @thebadchic @blackveilomens Claudia on Tumblr @tobe-written @blacksoul-27 @loeytuan98 @loverofagoodbeard @comfortcharactercraze @lma1986 @plutonikchaos1 @spicywhenspeaking @lyschko666 @somewhere-diamond

NOAH

"I'm so fucking glad we're staying in a hotel the next few days," Folio groaned as we walked down the long hallway of the hotel.

I nodded in agreement. "I can't believe the tour is almost over; our last show is tomorrow night."

With our last show tomorrow night, we were spending the next few nights in a hotel and we all planned to take flights back home so we could get there faster. Hollow Souls were also staying in this hotel but they were a floor beneath us but it seemed the farther I went from Y/N, those imaginary pull strings inside of my heart tightened. If it hurt this bad when she was a floor underneath, how bad would it hurt when she was a state away?

As far as I knew, she still had plans to go back to Vegas because that's where her home was, granted it was with Trey. There wasn't a part of me that was worried she would go back to him; I knew she wouldn't. Ever since they fired him, Hollow Souls has been thriving. They posted on their social media pages that Trey was kicked out of the band due to personal reasons and while most of their fans complained about them kicking out their main vocalist, there was a select few that were excited to see what the future of Hollow Souls looked like.

Y/N was upset at first that so many of their fans were boycotting them now because they decided to kick Trey out.

"Seems like they only care about Trey's vocals when I'm the one that actually wrote our songs."

It took a while of Malcolm and Chase talking to her to realize that their future together as a band was looking bright. They could reinvent themselves.

I filled in for the last two shows but after playing my set for thirty minutes before their hour-and-a-half set, my voice was getting raw and sore so Matt thought it be best if I didn't fill in for the last show. I was going to argue, not wanting to let them down, but Chase reassured me they'd figure out what to do for the last show.

Y/N has been glowing since Trey left, slowly becoming a better woman in front of all of us; to me, she'd always been perfect. But we could all see her confidence growing. With her face in the dirt far too many times with Trey, she finally said enough; it doesn't hurt anymore. As all of his lies crumbled down, Y/N found a new life.

To say all of us were proud of her was a fucking understatement.

"Hey," Jolly bumped shoulders with mine, pulling me from my thoughts as we stopped in front of the door to his room. "Bryan wants us ready to go in twenty minutes."

Oh, right.

We were currently in Oregon and Bryan planned some time today on our off day to visit one of the national parks here to take some promo photos of us.

"Yeah, I'll be ready to go. I need to change quickly and I'll meet you guys down in the lobby," I said as I walked down a few more doors until I stopped in front of my room; the one I was sharing with Nick.

He patted my shoulder as he walked past me into the room. "You should ask if Y/N wants to come with."

I shrugged off his words, trying not to make it seem that I'd been tossing around the idea for the last hour when Bryan first told us about his plan.

"She might have plans with Chase and Malcolm," I said while tossing my suitcase onto the bed, quickly rifling through the clothes to find something to change into.

"She doesn't. Last I heard, Chase and Malcolm are going out tonight so Y/N will be alone," Nick raised a suggestive brow.

With a long sigh, I turned to face him. "You already planned this, didn't you?"

"It was Chase's idea," he answered.

Rolling my eyes, I pulled out my phone to send a text to Y/N.

Get dressed, I'll be by your room in fifteen minutes.

She responded quickly before I had the chance to set my phone down.

Care to tell me where we're going?

All you need to know is to dress warm, angel.

You're full of surprises. See you soon, mochi. Room 245.

"Mochi?" I chuckled to myself while pocking my phone.

With a smile playing at my lips and my heart pounding loudly in my heart at the nickname, I tossed on a fresh hoodie and my tan jacket, opting to leave my hair down. Nick finished getting dressed when I did and once we stepped out in the hallway, Jolly and Folio were already waiting for us right outside our door.

"Fuck," I cursed while clutching my chest. "You scared the shit out of me, Folio."

"Too busy thinking about Y/N, huh?" He gave a playful smile.

Shoving him on the shoulder, I mentioned we needed to stop by her room before heading down to the lobby.

Jolly adjusted the guitar bag on his back. "She's coming with?"

I hesitantly nodded. "Is that alright? Nick said she was alone, and I felt bad if we left her while we did something."

They all smirked at my rambling as we took the stairs down one floor, our footsteps echoing in the small confined space.

"Of course it is, we don't mind when she tags along," Jolly said.

Coming to a stop in front of door 245, I gently rapped my knuckles against it and waited for her petite voice to carry through the wood. It was silent for a few moments, nerves ate away at my stomach as I wondered why she wasn't answering yet.

I knocked once again, this time with a bit more force, and breathed a little when a loud curse sounded from the other side.

"Hang on, someone's at the door."

I looked over to Nick with a raised brow, and he merely shrugged. "Chase and Malcolm are gone so I don't know who she's talking to."

The door opened with a quick brush of air, and my heart skipped a beat at the sight in front of me. Y/N was dressed in a pair of black tights, and a deep orange sweater that rested to the middle of her thighs, and her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail. I had to resist the urge to wrap my fingers through it to pull her back to me as she turned back into the room.

"Give me two minutes, I have to get my shoes," She said while clutching her phone to her ear. "No, Dad. Not you. I've got plenty of time to talk."

While the rest of the guys hung out in the hallway, I leaned against the wall right next to her bed and watched her as she slipped on her typical Doc Martin, nodding every so often to something her dad was saying on the other end of the phone.

"Dad, you seem to forget that you're seventeen hours ahead of me right now," she laughed causing my heart to flutter. "It's only noon here. Wait, why are you calling me so early? Isn't it your day off?"

She paced around the room looking for something and realizing what it was; I grabbed her bag and slung it over my shoulder. "I got it."

Y/N smiled her thanks before the conversation with her dad took her attention again. "No, I haven't talked to Mom in a while…. well, the last time she tried to guilt trip me into staying with her when the tour was over…I'm not staying at Trey's place anymore. We broke up.…..yea, long time coming, tell me about it….I'm sure I'll figure it out but I'm not staying in Vegas anymore…..hell yes I'm keeping Salem; asshole doesn't do shit for my cat."

I couldn't ignore the way my stomach flipped hearing that she didn't plan on staying in the same state as Trey.

"I can't move in with Malcolm or Chase because they're actually finding their own place together…Dad, they're dating; have been for the last six months…Yeah, that will explain exactly why Chase and I never got together."

I chuckled as I thought of her dad trying to set up her and Chase.

"You saw videos from the show last night?" There was a clear shock in her voice as she continued to talk with her dad as she rushed around the room getting ready.

"I'm surprised because you don't even know how to work face time," she giggled. "Oh, he's a friend of ours. We've been touring with his band for the last few weeks. Yeah, he filled in the last couple of shows….you think so? That's what everyone is saying online."

Her gaze flicked up to mine as her lips parted slightly, whatever her dad said made her give a long pause.

"Just a friend, dad." Then she turned swiftly on her heels away from me to whisper something low into the phone.

"I'm sorry," she mouthed to me with a pulled expression as she looked over her shoulder..

I waved her off. "Take your time."

"Dad, you know I miss you but I can't move to Japan; not now. But yes, I promise to visit you as soon as I can."

Eventually, after another minute, she said goodbye before hanging up with an audible groan. "Don't get me wrong, I love my dad but sometimes he forgets we talk almost every other day. He wants a play-by-play of my life every time."

"He wants you to visit?" I questioned.

She nodded while slipping into a jacket. "Yeah but its hard to find time. You need more than a weekend to visit Japan; there's so much to do."

"Yeah," I pushed her hand away when she went to reach for her bag. "I've got it."

"Noah, you don't have to carry my bag," she chuckled.

I shrugged. "I don't mind. Ready?"

"Yep," she smiled that heart-stopping smile.

When she walked past me towards the open door, my fingers grazed the inside of her wrist to stop her.

"Mochi?" I asked.

"Yes," she responded immediately. "Because you're the sweetest and your tummy is soft."

She poked her finger into my stomach before letting out a loud shriek of laughter as I wrapped an arm around her shoulders to bring her into my embrace, the both of us walking to the doorway where the guys were waiting.

"Malcolm and Chase are going to meet us once they're finished with their date," Y/N said.

"I'll text them the address," Nick said while pulling out his phone.

"Where are we headed?"

"The mountains," Folio answered with a smile.

"Ooh," she slipped out of my embrace, much to my dismay, to rummage around her suitcase for a book before she came back to me, lifting my arm and throwing it over her shoulder once again. "Now I'm ready."

Resisting the urge to press a kiss to her forehead, I set my sunglasses over my eyes and pulled her along with me as she let the door close behind us and ignored the smug look Nick threw my way as we walked past him; Y/N wrapping an arm around my back.

NOAH

"Can you believe how many people are calling for us to collaborate? It's all over Twitter," Nick said while browsing on his phone.

"Shit, really?" Y/N peered over from the back seat so she could gaze down at Nick's phone, who sat in front of her.

I was driving the van to the location that Bryan chose for our photo shoot but Folio called shotgun before she could which earned a cute little pout on her lips; lips that I wanted so bad to taste once again. So she sat in the far back with Jolly while Nick and Bryan sat in the middle. It was weird not having Chase or Malcolm with us since we did everything together on our off days.

"What are they saying?" I wondered while keeping my eyes on the road.

"Fans want you to feature on Hollow Souls next album," Y/N grinned as our eyes locked in the rearview mirror for a few seconds.

I hummed while pulling the van to a stop at the park's entrance. "I'm around whenever you need me, angel."

Once we all piled out, I met Jolly and Bryan at the back of the van to help them unload the equipment while Y/N chatted quietly with both of the Nicks, and out of the corner of my eye; I marveled at how goddess-like she looked with the afternoon sun casting her with her own aura glow. Jolly caught me staring because he smacked my chest before handing me the guitar he brought.

"You could ask her out, ya know," Bryan smirked.

I snapped my gaze over to him. "I can't."

"Why not? It's clear she feels the same since she's here right now," he said.

A long sigh fell from my lips as I ran a hand over my face. "It's not that easy, guys."

Bryan rolled his eyes and then hung his camera from his neck. "I mean you've already kissed, how much easier could things be between you two?"

"You told him?" I seethed at Jolly, who held up his hands.

"I didn't say anything. You two give it away with all the romantic googly-eye shit," he chuckled while he and Bryan began walking up the long trail toward the top of the mountain where we planned on taking the pictures.

"Hey," Y/N smiled as she bounded up next to me. "Little photo shoot?"

Immediately the scowl that followed Byran and Jolly turned into a warm smile, matching Y/N's, and I nodded. We began walking step in step, hands brushing against each other every so often, and I nearly linked fingers with her more than once. However, when we reached some rocky terrain while walking up a hill, Y/N cursed herself for not wearing smarter shoes.

"Here," I bent low in front of her and patted to my back.

"No, you're not carrying me," she tried to laugh it off, but I knew she was nervous about me carrying her weight on my back.

"Angel."

I peered over my shoulder in time to see her place her hands low on her hips.

"Mochi," she teased back with a small smirk.

My heart skipped a long beat at hearing the nickname again. It sounded so fucking sweet falling from her lips; almost as much as my actual name sounded.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way," I said, still bent low at my knees.

Y/N pulled at the bottom of her sweater dress. "I don't want to give these bozos a show."

She threw a thumb over her shoulder towards both Nick's who walked a few paces behind her. I rose to my knees and gave her a suggestive smirk while closing the distance between us.

"What color are they?"

"Uh," Y/N stammered but quickly recovered. "A cute olive green. Looks great against my skin tone."

A low noise vibrated in the back of my throat and I stood straighter as Folio walked passed just in time to feel the growing sexual tension.

"Either you hop on his back or I will," he joked as he and Nick walked passed us.

She stared up at me and slowly licked her lips, an action I watched carefully through my sunglasses. "Noah?"

"Yes, angel?"

"You have a cute nose," her voice was quiet, and I thought I misheard her.

I titled my head to the side. "My nose?"

"Yeah. It's just the perfect size for your facial structure," she finished with a boop to my nose.

I scrunched up my face. "Did-did you just boop my nose?"

"See!" She pointed to my face. "You look so fucking cute; it's insane."

"Angel, literally," I breathed a low chuckle.

"Mochi, literally," she mocked while sticking her tongue out.

My fingers itched to grab it but Bryan's loud voice echoed through the trees from far ahead. "Let's go you losers! You're holding us up."

I swear to-.

"What will it be, angel?" I asked.

Y/N dramatically sighed before motioning for me to spin around, which I did with a quick wink.

"If you drop me, I swear to Hades," She grumbled while adjusting her dress.

The warmth radiated from her in giant waves as her legs wrapped around my sides and I hooked my arms underneath her thighs to hoist her up.

"I swear to Hades that I will not drop you," I promised while walking up the steep hill towards the rest of the guys. "Do you actually pray to the Greek Gods?"

She flicked my ear. "No, silly. I just like to joke around with them. They're my favorite mythology."

"Will you teach me about them?

"I'm honored you asked; I'd love to," she ran her fingers through my long hair and I briefly let my eyes flutter shut at the calming feeling.

"Only if you let me braid your hair."

My eyes snapped open. "Uh, we'll see about that."

She flicked my ear again. "You're no fun."

Hooking her tighter against me, I closed the distance between us and the guys in a few long strides. Nick gave the two of us a look as I set Y/N down gently on her feet, she quickly pulling down her dress.

"You didn't see shit," she pointed a firm finger to all of us.

"Nope."

"Nothing."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Bryan held up his camera and snapped a few pictures of Y/N; who in return, flipped him the finger.

I watched with a racing heart as she messed around with the guys, almost as if she'd been part of our little group for years.

"Alright," Y/N pulled the book out of her bag. "I'll let you guys do your thing. If you need me, I'll be reading over there."

She pointed to the edge of the mountain that looked over the small lake we drove past to get here.

"Be careful, angel," I warned.

"I'll be fine," Y/N rolled her eyes but as she turned, she tripped over a rock and stumbled a bit before standing straight.

I raised a teasing brow at her while crossing my arms over my chest. "What was that?"

"Fuck you," she taunted with her middle finger.

Don't tempt me, angel.

The next hour passed in a blur as we took countless pictures, just having a fun, relaxing time. Every so often, my gaze would fall onto Y/N as she leaned up against a large willow tree, book perched in her lap. The wind blew through her ponytail every so often and I marveled at how fucking breathtaking she looked when her face would scrunch in surprise with whatever she was reading.

I knew from the moment I stepped off our bus the first day of the tour when I saw her standing amongst the group; when we first met. It wasn't the typical love at first sight bullshit Folio talks about that happens in the movies. It was more like a familiarity, almost like 'oh, hello. It's you. It's always going to be you.'

"Noah, could you take a little step forward," Bryan directed.

Snapping my gaze away from Y/N reluctantly, I followed Bryan's orders for another long few minutes until he decided we got enough pictures. I motioned towards Y/N, who still had her nose perched in her book, and Bryan knew what I silently was saying because he snapped a few pictures of her.

Malcolm and Chase walked up just as we finished our photoshoot so a quick idea came to my mind.

"Angel," I called.

She looked up. "Hm?"

Not saying anything, I waved her, Malcolm, and Chase over to our position which they did hesitantly.

"If Bryan is cool with it," I pointed to him. "What do you guys say for a Hollow Souls photoshoot? New and reimagined?"

Bryan immediately agreed. "Let me change out some things and we can get started.

Chase and Malcolm also agreed with a nod. "I think it'll be good for us."

"You guys don't have to do this for us," Y/N stated. "You've already done so much for us, Noah by filling in."

I shrugged while stuffing my hands deep into the pockets of my jeans. "I take care of the people I care about."

She pondered my words for a long moment and eventually let out a long breath. "Alright fine."

Once Bryan returned, the rest of stepped back to give them space to work. Nick was the only one who watched me as Jolly, Folio, and I kept our eyes on Hollow Souls. We grabbed a few beers from the cooler Jolly packed and was nursing them slowly.

"You know, this would be a perfect opportunity to maybe slip away just the two of you," Nick whispered.

I peered over to him and rolled my eyes, shoving him in the shoulder. "Whatever."

"I'm just saying," he held up his hands in defense. "A night under the stars in the mountains. Anybody would kill for a date like that."

Nick's words weighed heavily on my brain and when she began walking towards me, I made the haste decision by grabbing the guitar that was leaning against the tree.

"Hi," Y/N smiled as I met her halfway.

My heart warmed at the sight.

"Do you want to go somewhere more secluded, just the two of us?" I suggested with a hopeful smile.

I didn't want to think how I would feel if she rejected me and walked away from me.

"Sure," she answered quickly with a glimmer shining in her eyes.

Ultimately, after walking for a few minutes, we decided on an area far from the rest of the group down the water's edge. We sat down in the sand, our knees brushing against each other, and held the guitar in my lap as I watched her stare out into the vast distance of the water. There was a faraway look in the depths of her eyes as she messed with something on her wrist, fiddling it between her fingers.

A hair tie; the one I gave her the last time we were on the beach together. I wondered where it went but decided that I never wanted it back. It's hers to keep; along with everything else I gave her.

"How are you doing, angel?" I asked, breaking the growing silence.

She didn't look at me, kept her eyes straight ahead.

"I'm-." A hesitant breath. "I'm not sure. I want to believe I'm doing okay with the breakup of not only my relationship but also the band. For the longest time, Hollow Souls was the four of us and we released three records together. The future scares the shit out of me. Can the three of us reinvent a new Hollow Souls or do we need to find someone to replace Trey completely?"

I strummed a few random notes on the guitar; the melody echoing into the sounds of the waves.

"I think a fresh start in all aspects is good for you," I answered slowly, trying to get my thoughts and words right. "I've said it from the start, you're the heart and soul of this band, Y/N. The screams were a bonus. It didn't make or break you guys."

She finally looked towards me and her eyes darted over every inch of my face, wondering if my words were the truth. With her, they always were.

"I don't know what I'd do without you, mochi. Truly."

I scrunched up my face to show that the nickname wasn't my favorite but deep down, my insides were floating in pure bliss having her call me something so disgustingly cute. If any of the guys heard it, though, they would give me shit until the end of my days.

"Ditto, angel, ditto."

I tried to play it cool, sauvé, and chill. My typical demeanor was chipping like ice though, the fear of what would happen if it broke completely had its vise grip on me. No one has ever considered a fuckin a nickname for me, not one without a punchline. Not one without a groan or a cursed tantrum that followed. I wasn’t sure if the pure bliss I was feeling was normal, but who the hell wants normal? Hearing it come from her lips meant everything to me.

"Let's play something," I motioned to the guitar.

"Ooh, what do you have in mind?" She asked while turning her body to face me completely head-on and letting her hair flow as she took it out of the ponytail.

The view of her sitting in front of me with the waves crashing behind her, the setting sun's rays breaking over the horizon stole the breath from my chest.

"Only Love," I answered without an ounce of hesitation.

Y/N's nose scrunched up with confusion and I'd be lying if I said it wasn't the cutest fucking thing ever.

"Noah, that was a demo song from three years ago."

I shrugged and played the first few notes of the song. "Might be silly to some but to me, it means a lot."

It was true. I listened to that song on repeat when it first came out. It was the first song I heard by Hollow Souls and Y/N's voice captivated my heart with its claws. I remember laying on the pullout couch next to Nick in his bedroom as I stayed there yet again. My mind was racing with only one thought.

I have to fucking make it. I needed to buy my own couch that brought a sense of comfort and security I yearned for.

That's when her soft voice came through my headphones and it shocked me to hear a feminine voice after Of Mice and Men. I brushed the hair away from my eyes as I settled deeper into the couch and let Y/N's angelic voice lull me to sleep that night and far too long after.

Cut to three years later and the girl who wrote that song is here in front of me. Some may call it a ‘rockstar crush. Would she be considered that? Who the hell knows? All I know is that I had pent-up memories, and needed to hear that sweet voice sing it, just for me all these years later.

Y/N's real, right there in front of me.

"I'm shocked you remember that song."

"Why wouldn't I? You talked about it being on the cloud during that one livestream," I answered.

Her eyes doubled. "You watched the livestream?"

"Twice."

A red hue brushed across the soft skin of her face as she tilted her head down towards the sand, long hair covering her face.

"No," I brushed away the hair behind her ear. "Don't hide your beautiful face, angel. I want to see all of you if you'd let me."

"Sorry," she muttered under her breath. "I don't even realize I do it."

"Don't apologize. Never apologize to me. Just understand that this is how I see you. Now, enough sadness. Sing for me, angel."

She looked up at me through lashes with a small smile. "Do you know how to play it?"

I snorted, a little hurt that she would doubt me, but proved her wrong as I played the opening part of the song.

"I told you I watched the stream twice."

"Okay," she nodded. "Where did you want me to start?"

"Sing the whole song for me. Please?" I begged.

"You want me to sing the whole song?"

"I do," I rushed out.

Y/N gave a curt nod. “Okay, I’ll play the whole thing- but only because you asked me too, no one else gets the privilege.”

I playfully narrowed my eyes at her. “They better not.”

She took a deep breath while shutting her eyes as I played the tune on the guitar.

"I’m hoping you weren’t heaven sent cause only hell knows where you’ve been. Your built composure’s wearing thin and all your walls are caving in. Before you shut this down, I just wanna lift you up. I’ll take all this love I found and I hope that it’s enough."

We both could hear the ache in our hearts as it bled out, the lyrics mean so fucking much right now.

"Now don’t you shut this down. Ooh no don’t you give this up. I took all this love I found and I hope that it’s enough. Is it enough? If we don’t bend, then this might break. Please don’t give into this pain. Just keep on counting down the days and dream of me to keep you safe."

Y/n opened her eyes to meet mine, a blaze of passion that cut deep into my bones.

"Before you came around I was lost and out of place. You’re the only love I found and I’m hoping that you’ll stay. Please stay."

As we played on together in perfect harmony, there was one thing bright in clear in my mind: I'd stay for as long as she let me.

"Fuck," she breathed. "I forgot how much I loved singing this song."

I nodded in agreement while setting the guitar down next to me. "It's one of my favorites. It's actually what got me into Hollow Souls. I'd been hooked on your voice since that first night on Nick's couch all those years ago when I first heard it."

Y/N beamed when an idea struck her with such force, she stumbled to her feet. "I have to talk with Chase and Malcolm about something."

She took off a few steps in front of me, clearly excited about this idea she had. As we reached the rest of the guys, Y/N made a beeline toward Chase to tell him about her idea while I walked up to Nick and Folio, the former giving me a look.

"So my date idea was good, huh?" He playfully jabbed my side.

I pushed him away with a groan of embarrassment. "Fuck off, Nicholas."

"Oh, he pulled out the full name," Folio teased.

Jolly and Bryan joined us as we finished packing up the van and when I glanced over to Y/N, I noticed Malcolm pinching her cheeks playfully and she smacked his hands away, her cheeks flushed with her own embarrassment and large smile.

NOAH

"Oh wow, look at all of these beautiful people tonight!" Y/N's voice carried through the sold-out arena.

It was the last show of tour and Hollow Souls just took the stage for their set. We could feel the nerves radiate off of all three of them all the way where we stood on the stage to watch them. This was new what they planned on doing tonight but the three of them spent the rest of last night after we parted ways at the hotel and all morning and afternoon today practicing nonstop a new setlist. They wanted to show everyone tonight the first step towards the new Hollow Souls.

"Where's Noah?!" a voice yelled from the crowd.

Jolly chuckled from beside me. "Think they'll be upset you don't show up tonight?"

I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. "I hope not. This is something that they need to prove they can do. The fans need to have faith in Hollow Souls."

"Well, about that," Malcolm spoke into his microphone while adjusting his bass strap.

"Now before you all start booing us off the stage," Chase spoke next from his spot above on his makeshift drum stage. "Noah has been fucking killing it not only with Bad Omens this tour but also helping us out a lot. But tonight, we wanted to do something a little different. We still have our guitar tech filling in for us!"

The crowd cheered for their guitar tech, which made him give an awkward wave.

"I know this may take getting used to, but we appreciate your support in doing what’s right for us and our band," Y/N said. "It means so fucking much to all of us you still showed up tonight even knowing Trey is no longer with us. For that, we're going to give you a kick ass show you deserved. Don't give up on Hollow Souls. We cut out the disease and are ready to fucking blossom."

Y/N peered over to me and with a small wave and wink, she sang the first few lyrics of Only Love.

NOAH

Darkness cascaded over my sleeping form, a brush of moonlight breaking through the curtains pulled tight in our hotel room, and I buried myself deeper into the cocoon of blankets. Sleep was within my grasp and after the last few weeks, the thought of finally being able to sleep in my own bed back at home made it that much easier to grasp it.

Until my phone buzzed from its place on the nightstand and my hand smacked around until it grabbed it. Through hazy vision, I blinked a few times for the words to clear.

Hey, are you awake?-Angel.

I sat up in bed and rubbed away the rest of the sleep from my eyes. It only meant one thing when someone texted you the typical you up text.

Yeah, couldn't sleep.

Bullshit, you were seconds away from waking up Nick with your snoring.

I stared at the bubbles that appeared on my screen and then disappeared, only to reappear right before her next text came through.

Would it be alright if I came by to hang out? Or is it too late?

The clock at the top of my screen showed it was just before midnight.

Not at all. I've got snacks, and we can finally finish watching Spirited Away. Room 392

Be there in five minutes. I'll bring some goodies too! :)

I chucked a pillow at Nick, who was fast asleep in his bed, but when he remained sleeping, I threw another. Eventually, he groaned, slowly waking up.

"You need to leave." I scrambled out of bed and pulled away the blankets from Nick. "Y/N's coming by to hang out."

Nick smoothed down his bedhead, a sly smirk on his lips. "You're kicking me out right now?"

"Fuck yes I am. Go bunk with Bryan or Matt," I said while changing out of my old gray sweats for a pair of black joggers, opting to put on a shirt.

He yawned before grabbing the things he would need and dragged his feet to the door, sending a text to whoever he bunked with.

"Be safe!" Nick called out before the door shut behind him.

With seconds to spare, I quickly tidied up the room then set up a variety of snacks and pulled up the movie on my laptop, setting it on the bed just in time for a soft knock to sound on the door. I let out a few deep calming breaths and did a quick once over of myself in the mirror.

"Hi," I smiled once I opened the door.

Y/N's eyes grazed over every inch of me as she shifted on her feet in the doorway, clutching a bag close to her chest. She was dressed in a pair of sleep shorts and an oversized shirt.

"Do you always sleep shirtless?" she asked with a raised brow.

I stepped to the side, allowing her to step inside the room. "Every hotel room I sleep in can't get any colder than seventy degrees. I need it to be at least sixty-eight. I run hot when I sleep and the guys know not to mess with the thermostat back home."

"Wow, good to know. I'll keep my hands to myself when I come over," she wiggled her fingers after setting her bag down on the couch.

Please don't.

I peeked a brow. "When you come over?"

"Oh, if you thought you saw the last of me because the tour is over, you're wrong," she fell onto the couch with a huff of breath. "I'm moving to Los Angeles."

My heart thumped loudly in my chest but I did my best to hide my excitement when I sat next to her.

"You are?" I questioned.

She nodded with that room-brightening smile. "I had a long talk with Chase and Malcolm tonight and we thought it is best. With us trying to reinvent Hollow Souls it'd be good if we were together for the writing process. Malcolm already found a place big enough for us and while he's going there to get things ready, Chase is flying back with me to Vegas to help me pack my things."

I shifted in my seat, resting my arm against the back of the couch, behind Y/N. "Do you think Trey will be there?"

"Probably but that's why Chase is coming with me; in case things go south."

"I could come too if you'd like," I stumbled over my words only slightly.

Y/N rested a hand on my knee and squeezed it. "You need to stop worrying so much about me, Noah. I can't ask you to change your plans for something I should do on my own."

"You're worth it, angel," I vowed while running a finger through the soft waves of her hair.

We stayed in that position for a minute longer, simply staring into each other's eyes, and when I ran my tongue over my bottom lip, Y/N let out a soft whine. The thick tension that always seemed to be around us intensified now, and it was almost hard to breathe, let alone keep my thoughts off the way her hand grazed a few inches higher on my thigh.

I cleared my throat while nodding to the bag next to her. "What did you bring?"

"Oh," she snapped out of her trance and set it on her lap. "Last tour, I started this tradition on the final night I celebrate by doing self-care."

She pulled out an array of masks and different colors of nail polish and then set them on the small coffee table in front of us.

"Sweet, hand me one," I nodded towards the masks.

"You do masks?" Y/N giggled.

"What, you think I get this perfect skin with just water?" I jeered with a smile.

For the next while, we sat with our face masks on and watched the movie on the small screen of my laptop. It took almost no convincing from her to paint my nails black; her choosing a burgundy color for her nails. But now, what she was trying to convince of me gave me a slight pause.

"I don't know, angel. I don't let just anyone touch my hair," I said while putting away my laptop, us finishing the movie.

Y/N moved to the chair that sat in the room's corner and had her legs spread wide. "It's a good thing I'm not anyone. Now, get your ass over here and let me braid your hair."

For added effect, she pouted her bottom lip out and gave me those big doe eyes.

"Fine," I sighed before sitting on the floor between her legs, my back to her.

I shivered under her touch as she raked her fingers through my hair to break apart the small knots that gathered while I slept earlier.

"So, which Greek God is your favorite?" I asked.

She hummed. "Without a doubt, Medusa. Her story is tragic and sometimes often told wrong but that's the thing with mythology; there are so many different versions, you just have to choose which one you believe more."

"Medusa is the one with the snake hair, right?"

"Yeah," she turned my head to the left as she began braiding that side. "Some stories said she was an original gorgon sister but recent tellings from Ovid say she was a beautiful maiden who worked in Athena's temple. Poseidon saw her from afar and just like Zeus always did, Poseidon decided he wanted Medusa. He had sex with her on the temple steps and Athena punished her by turning her into the gorgon with snake hair and cursed any man to turn to stone when they looked at her."

I whistled low. "Shit, Greek gods were assholes."

Y/N snorted. "You don't even know the half of it."

Once she finished the left side, she turned my head to the right so she could start on that side.

"How'd her story end?"

"In tragedy, like every other myth. Perseus was sent to behead her by King Polydectes of Seriphus because Polydectes wanted to marry Perseus's mother. The gods were well aware of this, and Perseus got help. He received a mirrored shield from Athena, sandals with gold wings from Hermes, a sword from Hephaestus, and Hades's helm of invisibility."

"Wait," I turned to look up at her, which made her chastise me because I messed up the braid. "Athena, who turned her into this monster, helped the guy who was sent to kill her?"

"Fucked up, I know."

With stern hands, she turned my head to the right again. "Since Medusa was the only one of the three Gorgons who was mortal, Perseus could slay her; he did so while looking at the reflection from the mirrored shield he received from Athena. During that time, Medusa was pregnant by Poseidon so when Perseus beheaded her, Pegasus, the winged horse, and Chrysaor, a giant wielding a golden sword, sprang from her body."

"Oh Pegasus, from the Disney Hercules," I noted.

"That movie is so wrong but what do you expect for a kids' movie," Y/N chuckled then slapped her thighs. "All finished."

She showed me my reflection through her camera on her phone and I couldn't stop the smirk that pulled at my lips.

"I'll have to admit, angel. I look good with braids," I admitted while snatching her phone from her.

"Hey, what are you doing?!" She asked while reaching for it.

I leaned far back from her and posed for a few selfies. "I thought you'd like an updated selfie of me. I know you have the other two I sent you a few weeks ago."

With a red face, she snatched her phone back and held it close to her chest. "I do not."

Bullshit.

"Right, then let me see your pictures," I teased while kneeling in front of her, hands resting on her thighs, her skin ablaze with heat.

She swallowed thickly. "Fuck you, Sebastian."

READER

I swallowed thickly while clutching my phone to my chest, knowing that he was correct about saving those two selfies he sent me before.

"Are you going to look at the selfie I took?" Noah taunted.

With a breath, I peered down at the phone only to suck in a large breath, body shivering underneath his warm touch on my thighs.

"That's your new contact picture, mochi," I smirked while setting it and leaned deeper in the couch, not realizing that I pressed my core closer to Noah's face.

His eyes burned as his gaze darted from between my legs up to my face and his tongue darted out to wet his lips, almost imagining the taste.

"Angel," his voice was deep, it rumbling in his chest.

All the heat shot straight to my pussy as it clenched with desire, something that always happened when around Noah. Before, I took care of myself with this exact image in my mind but now that it was about to happen made me buzz with excitement.

"Can I?" He asked while breathing over my lap.

I raised my hips towards his face, all morals or thoughts if this was the best idea flew out of the window. We waited long enough for this moment ever since we shared that kiss so long ago. I wasn't a religious person at all but fuck, did I pray to Aphrodite about this moment countless times.

"Please," the word choked out on my lips.

With a low growl, Noah pulled me off of the chair and tossed me onto the bed before he crawled between my spread legs. His long fingers hooked the waistband of shorts and panties pulling them off in almost a quick snap and when blazed eyes stared down at my bare pussy, I tried to close my legs.

"Don't," Noah demanded while gripping my thighs tight to spread my legs again. "Don't hide a fucking thing from me, angel."

Shit.

"I've never actually-," The words died on my lips when I felt embarrassed about what I was about to say.

Noah leaned over me. "Wait, are you going to say what I think you're going to say?"

I turned my head away from him. "He never wanted to go down on me."

Noah cursed while cupping my chin so I could meet his gaze. "Don't think about him, angel. Just lay back and enjoy this."

I did my best to nod in his grasp. "Okay."

He suddenly crashed his lips to mine in a fiery, passionate kiss, as he forced his tongue past my lips to taste every inch of my mouth and I moaned into it, nails scratching against the bare skin of his chest. Noah's teeth dragged over my bottom lip as his hand dragged down my side to slide up underneath my shirt, fingers pinching at my nipples.

"Noah," I breathed while breaking apart from the kiss.

He buried his face into the crook of my neck to breathe me in. "Say it again."

I did, over and over like a mantra, as he left a mark on the skin of my neck while his hand switched to the other breast, mimicking his actions from before. The wetness that pooled between my legs was almost a new feeling, never being this turned one, and for a moment I wondered if it would be alright; no pain.

Noah helped me sit up so he could pull my shirt over my head and soon was laying bare in front of him, hair sprawled around my head.

"Fuck, angel. You're fucking beautiful."

For the longest time, I was told something different from how I looked. So hearing the truth and sincerity from Noah made me almost close my legs in front of him. But with his tight grip on my hips to keep me locked against the bed, I knew he could read my thoughts.

"Don't go there. Stay here with me," he said before his lips pressed over every inch of skin from my lips to my chest, down my stomach, and stopped right about my pussy.

I whined the smallest of sobs when Noah took his time, lips ghosting over me. By now I was almost begging and when I finally felt the wet flick of his tongue against my clit, I breathed out a shaky curse. Noah pressed the fullness of his tongue against my lips, licking me up from the bottom to the top, spreading my legs wider apart. I bit my hand to keep the noises at bay.

"I want to hear you," he left a gentle bit on the inside of my thigh.

"Fuck," I moaned when his tongue speared inside of me for a few strokes.

My hands now grasped at the blanket beneath me as I raised my hips farther into his mouth, his lips wrapping around my clit to bite and suck at the bundle of nerves. I always thought my Gspot was in my clit because it was hard to have an orgasm any other way than rubbing myself. Without even telling Noah this, it was as if he knew exactly what my body needed.

It happened so fast, before I knew it he was devouring me like a dying man. I’ve never felt euphoria until now; this must be how it feels to see the moon, the moon that changes its orbit. He had me spinning.

"I love the way you taste, angel." Noah broke away from my clit for a second before diving back it.

The familiar feeling of an orgasm built in my stomach, the tension pulling so fucking tight it was seconds away from snapping. My spine tingled with anticipation as my body tensed, knees shaking underneath Noah as he rubbed his tongue in faster but shorter circles, moaning with the taste that lingered on his lips.

"N-noah. 'M so close," I let my head fall back deeper into the mattress.

"Let go, I've got you."

With a strangled breath, I let the orgasm crash through me like a tsunami, a bright white light edging at the corners of my eyes while Noah licked me through the last few aftershocks. As my breathing calmed, I lifted my head in time to see him stand to his feet, stepping out of his joggers only to stand in front of me in his black briefs.

I licked my lips when I saw his cock straining against the confines of the material until he palmed himself in a few strokes.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked.

I shook my head with desperation clear in my voice. "No, please. I need this-I need you, Noah."

He cursed before sliding off his briefs with desperation and urgency, his hard cock springing against his thigh, and I nearly died at that sight alone. All of my imagination did nothing compared to the real thing, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared for a few different reasons. Sex with Trey was uncomfortable but with Noah's size, I feared it would only hurt. The only saving grace was that he worked me open and the added wetness would make up for the slight pain.

"Are you on anything?" Noah asked while kneeling between my legs.

A lot of different shit.

"No," I said.

He leaned over to a bag that lay at the foot of the bed and rummaged around for a few seconds before retrieving a condom. I watched with anticipation as pre-cum seeped out of the slit when he ripped it open and slid it over his length then perched himself between my legs again, the head of his cock pressing gently against me. He wrapped one of my legs around his hip then slowly, sunk deep inside of me, and I bit my tongue hard to keep my strangled cry quiet. I knew there was going to be some pain; it was inevitable, but I didn't expect it to feel so good either.

"Fuck," Noah rested his forehead against my collarbone. "So tight."

He didn't move at first, relishing in the way I felt gripping his cock, and I couldn't take it anymore; I needed him to move.

"Noah," I begged while grinding against him.

One hand gripping my thigh, the other was placed next to my head to keep himself supported as he finally moved his hips in slow, deep strokes.

"Faster," I panted, almost pleading.

Slow was good but right now I needed fast.

Noah accepted my pleas and began slamming into me with such force, I cried out in name with a mixture of pleasure and pain. My hand slipped between our bodies to rub at my clit, hoping that the sensation would ease the pain a bit, but it could only do so much.

He noticed something was wrong with the way my face contorted in pain. "Angel, do you want to get on top?"

"Fuck yes, please."

Still buried deep inside of me, Noah rolled our bodies so now I was straddling him and almost immediately, the pain subsided; it was still there but not as strong. My hands sprawled over the tattoos that covered his chest as I leaned down to lick my way across the snake and apple on his neck. The noise he made, and his moans were so soft as my hot tongue went up and down his neck, I grazed over his Adam's apple with my teeth and bit down. Noah shook underneath me as he wrapped an arm around my back to hold me closer, burying his thick, aching cock, deeper inside of me.

We felt the rush, the aching, burning blush. We surrendered to the touch. I gave him a show. This is heaven in hiding.

"Angel," he begged as my teeth worked on leaving a mark against the hand on his neck. "I need-."

"What do you need?" I ground my hips against his pelvis and the sensation sent sparks to my clit and I clenched around him.

"Fuck," he cursed. "Don't stop what you're doing. It feels so good."

"Oh," I bit down on a new patch of skin on his throat. "This?"

"Yes," he dragged out the S for a few seconds.

My hands went to run through his hair but I almost forgot in our haste that I braided it a few minutes before this.

"Angel," Noah's voice was raw. "You have no idea how much I've wanted you."

I sat up slowly to stare down at him in awe as his words made me feel unspeakable things.

In one quick action, his hand snaked behind my head to pull my lips back down to him to kiss me feverishly.

"Noah," I tugged on his braids.

"Shit, give me a minute. I can take them out."

I didn't stop moving my hips against him. "Noah. I-."

"Just second, angel."

His hands left their vice grip on my hips to take out his hair but I quickly slapped his hands while sinking deeper on his cock. "Leave them."

The same sensation of a cresting orgasm filled every inch of me, ecstasy shooting through my veins like a drug, and when Noah's thumb pressed fast circles against my clit, I leaned my head up towards the ceiling, lips parting as my hands wrapped around his braids, pulling with such force he choked on my name. I rode Noah faster, needing that last little bit of friction to tip me over the edge and when I finally let the bliss plow through me in droves, I held my breath.

"Angel," Noah cupped my cheek so I could look down at him. "Breathe through it with me."

I did as he said, both of us breathing out my orgasm as our eyes locked intently with each other. I writhed against him, my arousal soaking the condom and parts of his hips. It was such a simple action but the way it set my body on fire intensified the aftershocks to something I'd never experienced. Noah stared down to the place where we met and with a noisy moan, he wrapped an arm tighter around me to pull me flush against his chest as his hips stilled for a second before he emptied himself inside the condom.

NOAH

I pressed light kisses all along Y/N's shoulder blades, in shock and almost slight jealousy as I took in every inch of the large tattoo that covered her back. It was of a large snake that wrapped along every groove of her spine with an array of different Japanese flowers.

Afterward, I let her fall onto the mattress with a happy sigh, immediately grasping the pillow closer to her chest and that's when I noticed the tattoo.

"I can't believe I've never noticed this before," I mused while running a finger over the ink.

"It's taken like two years to complete. It's my second favorite after the one on my leg of the Gods," she rested her chin on her palm. "You know what I just realized? We have similar tattoo themes; copy cat."

Her finger grazed over the snake and apple along my neck.

"Yeah," I chuckled. "All you need is an apple right here."

I smacked right above her ass and she shrieked while falling into the pillow once again, a long but content sigh falling from her lips. I kissed from between her shoulder blades down her back, my nails grazing beyond the wake of my lips.

"Are you okay?" I wondered while gently squeezing her hips.

“Yeah, I think so. I feel content, just basking in it. You?”

I nodded and kissed the side of her head as I lay next to her. "I feel great."

"Do you know what you want in 10 years?" Y/N blurted out.

“That’s a random question” I chuckled while kissing her lips.

She sighed and looked up at me through her lashes. “I know but think about it, like really think about it?”

I thought deeply about her question, fingers still grazing her spine. “Alright I’ll bite, I don’t know, I’ve always been trying to make it with whatever bullshit has been going on in my fucking life- just wanting to mean something to somebody, make music- for anybody out there to listen. To be the fucking king you know?”

She laughs. "And?"

"Way down the road maybe one day in the future- to live in the middle of nowhere with a dog, cats, and a family of my own. In my wooden home that I built."

Y/N's body went rigid with my words.

"But right now, no dog, no family just…just Bad Omens," I finished with a hopeful breath.

She hummed in response but turned her head to face the wall opposite of us, something bothering her. Not wanting to push it, I left another kiss on her spine before I slipped out of bed to discard of the condom in the bathroom trash, a light red color catching my attention.

Once back in the room, I slipped back underneath the covers.

"Angel?"

Another hum vibrated from her throat, sleep weighing heavy on her shoulders.

"Did you get your period?"

I swore I saw all the breath leave her body with my question and my mind panicked, thinking she was embarrassed.

"It's fine," I rubbed her back soothingly. "I just saw some blood on the condom, that's all."

When she still said nothing, I nudged her face with my nose. "Are you alright?"

"Yep," she said quietly.

"Stay till morning?" I asked, hopefully.

Finally, she turned to face me and left a kiss on my nose. "I have to go."

My heart fell into the dark pits of my stomach as I watched her slip out from underneath the sheet to gather her clothes. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing, Noah." She slipped back into her clothes rather quickly. "I just have an early flight to catch and I know you have one too."

I shook my head and stood to my feet while slipping my briefs and joggers back on. "I don't buy that. We were great, where did you go just now?"

She doesn't want to leave, I can see that in the way her movements slowed once she was dressed, almost as if she was buying time for me to say something that would change her mind. But she refused to meet my gaze.

"Angel, look at me. What's the matter?" I asked again.

"Nothing-," she began with a sigh.

"Then why won't you stay?"

The fear of her slipping between my fingers was debilitating.

"Noah, you know I can’t; we can’t," Y/N stumbled over her words.

I stretched my arms out wide at my sides. "Why? Why can’t you?"

With her gaze still cast down to her feet, she shook her head. "You don’t want me Noah, trust me, you don’t want any part of this."

"Bullshit," I spat as my anger got the best of me.

Y/N's head snapped up towards me, finally looking me in my eyes and all I saw in hers were the wetness of tears. "I have this condition that already makes my life harder every fucking month. I don't need to bring you into it and ruin our future, alright?"

My heart stopped for a few seconds. "Condition? What the fuck, are you dying or something? I don't know what the hell this means."

"No," she rushed out. "I'm not dying. I-I don't want to get into this right now. All I know is that I would need you a lot more than you'd need me. And you deserve better than me, anyway."

"Don't-" I started while pointing a finger at her.

She ran a distressed hand through her hair. "You know it’s true Noah, please. This is hard enough as it is. Walking out right now."

The bed stood between us and I hated feeling so far from her even though we were still in the same room so I walked around it, standing a few inches in front of her now.

"I’ve been through a lot of shit in my life too, Y/N. Don’t sit there and tell me what I can and can’t handle. Don’t sit there and tell me what I want or don’t want. You’re just so afraid of us," I pointed between us.

She grasped her elbows to hug herself and I could see the way her mind was running, gears turning hastily. Y/N was shutting down in front of me and I fucking hated it.

"Don’t fucking do that. I’m not him," I assured her with a gentler tone.

All of this was a trauma response, something so embedded deep into her brain that it was the only way she knew how to act. I know she felt the same way that I did; it was clear with what happened not even an hour ago. If she didn't feel the way I did, she wouldn't have shown up tonight. Y/N wants to stay, I can see it in the way her eyes keep darting to the bed but the pain and trauma were too deep.

"I’m sorry angel, I just- you’re wrong. I know how I feel about you, and I know what you feel about me."

I went to reach for her hands but she took a step back, a few tears falling to the ground below.

"I know what I feel. It’s not you, it’s me, Noah."

Not that fucking line.

"No. Fuck, angel! Stop! The future hasn't even happened yet. Please, don't-what do you need to happen?"

Her bottom lip trembled as a broken sob clawed its wait through her throat. "I-I think we need to remain friends right now. I can't-I can't get lost in you, Noah. It's so fucking easy to. I think we need space."

"I-I don't fucking want that, Y/N. I just want you."

"Noah, please understand where I'm coming from," she begged.

I paced the room, hands shaking in anger. Defeat? I wasn't sure.

"Angel-I. Please, just-," I eventually sighed in defeat.

"I'm going to head out."

Y/N nodded towards the door after gathering her things and stepped past me to leave.

The fear of losing her completely is what made me give in to her wishes. As much as I wanted to fight her choice, I needed her as a friend more than something more. I'll take what I can get for right now until she realizes she feels the same; I know she does.

As she opened the door, my feet closed the distance between us in two large steps and I grasped her chin, forcing her to look at me. The tears burned with the need to fall but she held fast and strong, refusing to show me how badly walking away was affecting her.

I brushed my lips across hers in a soft kiss. "I can wait for you."

She tried to disagree but my grip was too strong. "Noah- I can’t ask you to do that. That’s not fair. You deserve-"

“Don’t tell me what you think I deserve." I let out a shaky breath. "Look, heaven knows I’m not getting over you, I can wait”

“Besides. I’m known for having a lot of fuckin patience. I will wait." I finished with a shrug.

If I wasn't already staring intently at her, I almost would have missed the small nod she gave me; but I didn't. I saw it.

“Goodnight Noah.”

With one final kiss, not enough to remember the way she tastes, Y/N let the door shut behind her as I burned my hateful gaze through it. She left? How the fuck could she just leave after the night we had together?

No, fuck that.

I barreled through the door in time to notice she was only two doors down, frozen in her spot.

"Angel," I called after her.

Slowly, she turned, and I sucked in a breath when I saw the redness in her eyes, puffy with teh tears she let out as soon as the door closed. Mine mirrored hers.

"Please," I begged. "Just come back to me. I'll wait for you."

Y/N hesitated but within that hesitation, something stood out clear as day; she took a small step towards me until that doubt filled the back of her mind yet again. I stayed in the hallway watching as she turned the corner, disappearing from my vision and life; my words not being enough to make her stay.

Back inside the room, I let the door slam shut and made a beeline toward the minibar. I screwed off the cap of the Hennessy, downing half of it in one go.

"Bitter ends to the night. I'm along for the ride," I raised the bottle in the air before taking another long, slow gulp with my eyes screwed shut.

Suddenly, they snapped open, and I rummaged around the mess of my room for my phone, quickly typing out a text to Jolly.

I need to write a song, now.

Only a few minutes passed before he responded, just enough time for me to pop open another bottle.

Now? It's three in the morning and we have nothing here.

Doesn't fucking matter. I'll figure it out. Come to my room.

Letting the bottle slip from my fingers, I stalked over to the wall and slid down until my ass hit the floor with a thud; the image of Y/N crying and walking away burned into my brain. I was out of breath, out of time trying to stop her but, in the end, everything has a price. And I was paying for it.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian and reader #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian reader insert #noah sebastian smut #enemies to lovers #right person wrong time #starcrossed lovers

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aemysbabyofficial · 11 months ago

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Sweet Sixteen; Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!OC

Daemon Targaryen has eyes. He can see things. He can count. The times he catches his daughter's stray gaze find that of his brother's second son are one too many.

Warnings: Daemon being observant; doubt; parental worries/anxiety

Note: This is my very first House of the Dragon work, so please read and accept it with a grain of salt. I'm working this to be part one of series involving different characters and my main girl, Saela Targaryen. If you wish for the fic to be longer or more detailed, PLEASE comment (or heart...) because I love to hear feedback. Heehee:)

Sixteen times.

Daemon was sure of himself. He knew how to count. Hells, he was in charge of the mightiest battalions of men there was. Of course he needed to be sure of himself and know how to count beyond his fingers. But he was a soldier, a warrior to the bone, who could not show emotion. He could not allow his enemies the smallest chance to see him break.

A pure sixteen just now.

His eyes flitted across the table. His tongue glistened over his teeth as he leaned his body back. The wooden and metal armrests melded the leather of his top to his skin. The heat his body radiated burned in the cool evening, but any release of heat was stopped by the stone walls around him. His eyes, gleaming in the candles flame, could shoot out fire if he wished. To be uncomfortable here was an insult. Daemon fought and slayed thousands of men on countless battlefields, and he wasn’t the slightest uncomfortable there. Why now here did he feel trapped under the Red Keep’s stone walls?

Between the start of the Driftmark hearings and the dreadful dinner he was forced to sit at, Daemon counted sixteen times he caught his brother's second son staring at his youngest daughter. Bile from breaking his fast earlier sat pretty in his throat.

How coincidental! Daemon could have laughed at the epiphany he received. His third child, his sweet Saela, had just passed her sixteenth nameday not long ago and from word her sworn protector shared with him, Ser Jorys swore the young lady was celebrated around the Keep in the Greens tight arms and packed feasts.

From where Saela sat at the opposite end of the table, across the vast wood and candles sat the lilac trance the One-Eyed Prince. Daemon's shrugged his shoulders when he glanced back at his daughter. Among the chatter and movement of servants, her round eyes found the one eye. The corner of her lip trembled into a hesitant smile. Even if she tried to break eye-contact and laugh with Baela or Lucerys, Saela's attention always travelled back to the prince. Aemond had not said a word to either of them that day yet felt it in his childish stupor to throw manners aside and gouge the young lady right in front of her father. If Rhaenyra wasn't bracing his thigh under the table, Daemon would have picked the boy's remaining eye with his fork.

"Please just be cordial. For your brother, please."

His wife had begged him before the dinner. Yes, Rhaenyra understood the adrenaline of emotions were high after blood was spilled in the throne room. But if she wanted her father to dine in peace with his entire family, she had to tame her husband's lashes of fire first.

"I have not seen her in months. How I act is out of the question when it comes to her."

Rhaenyra only blew out her woes in a sigh before pacing around their room. “If you cause a mess, what do you think will happen to her?” She could only say and do so much for Daemon to understand. But as a mother herself, she could not imagine loosing any of her children to their enemy.

All Daemon did was scoff an answer. Of course I'll be cordial, the expression translated. He was cordial when he was finally reunited with his youngest daughter. He was cordial when Baela and Rhaena sung their wishes and roared their stories to their baby sister in the Red Keep's halls. He was cordial when the Princess Helaena lingered in the background, waiting for a clear moment to pounce on his child, steal and hide her under Green tapestries and shadows.

"Father."

Saela couldn't hold back her smile in front of him. The corners of Daemon's lips trembled when they held each other's hands. Before he could say a word, Saela flung her arms around his neck and clung to him. The train of her gold dress looked magical when he spun her around. But even in the Green's clothes, Saela was still his fiery daughter. No matter dress she wore, the flames of the dragon roared in her eyes, burning through all the manners the queen could shove on his daughter. She was pure, confident, and graced the empathetic heart no one in their family had the strength to hold.

Not once had he forgotten his sweet daughter's face when they had to part for Dragonstone. When he held her for the first time in years, his brows creased. Her cheeks had slimmed down. The neckline of her dress was higher than usual, scooping from her shoulders and across her collarbones. The mix of silver and gold hair she loved to wear open was braided like that of his brother's wife.

"Saela." Daemon kissed the crown of her head. He held her to his chest as if she would disappear in a second. In these cold walls, she could vanish before his very eyes. "I hope they've treated you well."

If it wasn't for the sister-wife of the drunken excuse called Aegon, Saela would have travelled back with her family and been reunited with her Grandsire she missed so much. Daemon loved that part of his daughter—the big heart she carried for everyone in their wretched family. Viserys’ nickname for her was an example of that. Hope of the House.

"But you know Helaena is different, father." Saela lamented the night before her family's departure. For the past days the lolly-minded Helaena had begged Saela to stay with her. "She is closer to me than Baela or Rhaena. And I like her, father. She is sweet, hilarious, and needs a friend. Would you want me to feel guilty for leaving her alone with her nagging overlo--I mean, with the Queen?"

O, Daemon hugged his Saela that night so hard. And though years have past the young lady has remained the same kind heart. Her eyes never casted doubt and her lips never told a lie. The woman she became would make her mother proud.

But something about her lilac stare, hooded by her curly eyelashes, and the smile tugging at the corner of her lips brushed Daemon the wrong way. And it all had to do with that wretched second-son. He was the real reason Saela remained in King's Landing; Daemon told himself. Viserys was too kind to hurt a poor child's heart. Aemond took his injury with a dramatic performance and begged his father for his cousin to stay trapped in the Red Keep. Added with Helaena's dalliances and urgent need for someone to watch her, Viserys probably gave in without second thought.

And now her eyes shine for the boy, not her father.

Her heart beats for another man. A man Daemon would never approve of.

"Father?"

Two voices melted into one snapped Daemon from his thoughts. When he looked up from the burning candle, Rhaena and Saela exchanged looks before glancing to their father.

"Do you want more wine, father?"

Daemon stiffly nodded before a servant refilled his cup. The drink was gone in a flash, coating the prince's already burned throat. The wine ceased to numb his mind and the clasp of Rhaenyra's nails in his thighs was more of a comfort than a reminder. Don't be rash.

How can a father stand by and watch his daughter fall into the pits of doom and not be rash?

The will to lunge his knife into the chest of his brother’s son was a dream Daemon would encounter nights upon nights. Aemond had fallen into the shadows the moment Daemon stepped foot into the keep. The boy hadn’t said a word to the prince and the prince hasn’t questioned where the boy was. It was like the moment they entered the Keep, both men knew of the dangerous game they were about to play—they danced to avoid each other while keeping their sights on the ultimate piece. Saela. The young lady had fallen into a game she never asked to play.

Daemon swore to save his daughter from doom and heartbreak. If he had to bare Dark Sister, Daemon would lay his life if it meant getting rid of the One-Eyed prince. Nothing in this world was to precious when compared to his daughter Saela, not even his own life. The world would have to bend its knee and shed its ocean-wide tears for mercy before Daemon would give her hand to any man--even if it included Aemond Targaryen himself.

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon x oc #house of the dragon x targaryen!oc #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x saela targaryen #aemond angst #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond x oc #hotd

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 1 year ago

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Personal Time [2]

Steven Grant X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info

Personal Time Series Masterlist (You don't have to read it to read this)

Summary: Steven orders a strap-on.

A/N: @lonelyisamyw-0love this is especially for you 💚

This is unbetaed (like all of my fics) I have read it over a few times, but my head just isn't in the game at the moment and I feel like I'm just not chatching errors. I appologise that there are probably more here than normal. Also Downward dog is a yoga position.

Warnings: oral (both m and f receiving), fingering, pegging, anal sex, sucking on a strap, praise kink (I’m sorry), the term ‘good boy’ used, begging, ermmmm kind of an exhibition kink?, typos, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning.

Word Count: 4967

________________________________

Steven had spent the better part of 24 hours researching. Not all at once mind you.

He hadn’t meant to fixate on this, it had just sort of… happened.

One thing had led to another and another, and another. But he’d finally found a strap-on that he thought would tick all the boxes for both of you.

He had ordered it online, after checking fifteen times that the delivery would be with discreet packaging. There was no need to give Mrs Thompson on the second floor anything to get all gossipy about. Especially when she managed to churn up enough ‘scandal’ about the block’s private lives anyway. (Quite early on in your and Steven’s relationship Mrs Thompson had engaged you in conversation in the lift. And when she had noticed what floor you were headed to, had promptly filled you in on all the ‘juicy titbits’ about the ‘odd gentleman’ that lived in flat 502 and his two ‘unusual brothers’. You had struggled to keep a straight face and had blurted the whole story out to Steven the second you saw him.)

The discreet (ordinary) packaging was the main reason why Steven had just dumped the parcel on the coffee table with a couple others when he got home from work. He’d had a shower and gone as far as slicing open the brown parcel tape when you’d knocked at the door.

“Hi Steven.” You smiled as he held the door. “How was work?”

“Hi love,” he grinned and kissed your cheek before standing back to allow you to come in. “Good, good, shit actually, but good.”

You snorted as you took off your shoes and hung up your jacket.

“Do you want a drink?”

“Aw, thank you, just water.”

He grinned again and waited until your hands were unencumbered before he gave you a proper hug and a kiss. “Hello.”

“Hello.” You echoed as he held you tightly.

“Jake has been driving me fucking insane.”

You laughed as he broke the hug. “Why?”

“Why?” He pulled a face, mock exasperation that you knew was a put on just to amuse you. “His current obsession with Mrs Thomspon.”

You giggled and Steven gestured for you to take a seat on the sofa as he went into the kitchen to get you a glass of water, and himself a cup of tea.

“What’s the latest update in the saga?” You said as you sat down, noticing the three large parcels on the coffee table, one partially open.

“He baked her cookies.”

“Cookies?”

Steven leaned back so that he could stare at you dramatically. “Cookies.”

You laughed again. “How did she react?”

Steven rolled his eyes and went back to making the drinks. “She loves him! You know that already from her most recent lift update to you about, ‘that strange Mr Grant, his odd brother, and that lovely Jake.’”

You couldn’t stop your giggles at his impression of Mrs Thompson.

“I know Jake said he was going to kill her with kindness, but really.” He tutted. “He’s just doing it to annoy me. And to get all the gossip about everyone in the building.”

You smiled. While you were sure that Jake did enjoy hearing about the little mini-dramas that were going on in the block of flats, you knew that he had originally spoken to Mrs Thompson after the first lift incident as a precaution. A safety check. Just to see what the woman had been saying about them to other people.

He had ended up in the 77 year old's flat being fed tea and biscuits and had fixed her bathroom window, which hadn’t been closing right.

The kettle clicked off as it boiled.

“So what’s with all the boxes?” You called.

“Oh!” Steven answered excitedly, “I think they are the books I was telling you about!”

You chuckle. “Did you buy a library?”

“Pretty much!”

Your smile widens.

“I just had to get the full colour edition of the history of Iraq, because the photos looked amazing! Have a look!”

You paused for a second, a little ball of impoliteness prodded at your mind even though Steven had just given you express permission to look in the box. But you shook the feeling aside and opened it. It was silly to be worried, it was just…

Ah.

Steven came back into the room and paused at the look on your face. “Love?”

You looked up at him quickly, trying to hide the smile that wanted to take over your entire being.

“You okay?”

“It’s not your book in that parcel.”

He frowned. “It’s not,” then he sighed. “Have they sent the wrong bloody thing?”

You took the strap-on out of the packaging, all neatly sealed in its own very posh looking box, and held it up to him.

“Oh, yeah.” Steven blushed but he was grinning. “That’s not a book.”

“I didn’t realise you could also order these from Waterstones.”

He snorted. “No, that was definitely from a different place.” He gave you a sheepish smile as he put the drinks on the table and brushed his curls out of his eyes.

“I didn’t realise you’d ordered one.”

“Well,” he shrugged and sat down next to you, fiddling with his fingers ever so slightly. “I just, I wanted to make sure it was alright first.”

“You were gonna use it without me?” You teased.

“No,” his eyes shot up straight to yours, relaxing only when he saw your playful expression. “I just wanted to make sure it looked comfy for you.”

“For me?” The sentiment touches deep within your heart. “Steven, surely, I mean, it’s going in you. Your comfort is much more important.”

He pulled a face like you’d just told him that the sky was orange. “Don’t be silly, love.” He shifts a little closer to you, his knee resting against your leg. “So,” he points to the box in your hands. “I did some research to find one that was good for beginners and each party.”

“You did some research?” You tease gently and he nods.

You can’t help yourself as you rub your legs together. Unable to stop the thought of Steven hunched over his laptop on his desk, his glasses on the tip of his nose as he read in depth reviews. Had he worked himself up? Gotten all hot and bothered thinking about you fucking him again? Had he desperately relieved himself at his desk?

“Do you want to try it out today?” You ask tentatively.

“Now?” He asks eagerly.

“Now’s good.”

He had happily let you lead him to bed, your lips fastened to his as if he was your only source of oxygen. His tea long forgotten and growing cold.

You had drunk down his little moans, softly pushing him back onto the mattress and stripping him of his clothes. You bit his lip gently every time he tried to take off your own and he giggled.

When he was naked, at last, you took a moment just to admire him. The flushed golden hue of his skin, his beautiful dark eyes, the way his mouth parted with every breath.

Languidly you trailed your hands up his legs, placing gentle kisses on his inner thighs and smiling against his skin when he jumped and squirmed. His cock was already hard, twitching against his stomach and leaking. Desperate and waiting for you. For the smallest touch or caress, for anything you’d grace him with.

It was dizzying sometimes, the thought alone making your head spin, how much faith and trust Steven gave you, putting every single part of himself in your hands as if it was as natural as breathing.

You kissed his balls, nuzzling into them before licking them all over.

Steven swore, his back arching ever so slightly as he pushed himself closer and spread his legs wider.

You happily obliged him by licking a board, flat stripe up from the base to the very tip of his cock. Moaning slightly when the beaded precum at his head touched your tongue.

He groaned, trying to bury the sound behind his hand, “Love… please.”

You took your mouth away from him and he whimpered, a look of betrayal flashing across his features.

His pout made you smile.

You kissed the base of his length, running the tip of your nose against the thick vein that ran up the underside of his cock. Your smile widened when he shivered.

“Can you grab the lube out of the drawer?” You asked quietly and broke into a laugh at how quickly Steven moved. As if he had been struck by lightning.

He partially rolled over, carefully not to whack you with his thighs, and fished around for a second before pulling out the bottle and placing it into your waiting hand.

“Thank you.” You said in a singsong voice.

Since finding his dildo and your recent escapades with it, you had made it your personal mission to learn how to work Steven open yourself. Savouring every moan and clench of muscle. He’d seemingly become quite addicted to it.

You poured a generous helping of lube onto both of your hands. Then positioned your left hand around his cock, pumping him in lazy strokes, while you slide the fore and middle fingers of your right down his balls and pressed them lightly at his hole.

Steven’s breathing hitched, his hips bucking ever so slightly into your touch as he fought with himself to stay still.

You gently eased both of your fingers into him. Yours weren’t as thick as Steven’s own, and you knew from previous experience that he enjoyed that slow, tortuous stretch at the start. Happy to take two or three in the first breach, as long as they were well lubed.

He moaned, shuddered, and swore, fisting his hands into the sheets beside him and pressing his head back, exposing the tendons in his neck.

“Nice?” You asked as you moved your fingers, stroking them perfectly against his prostate.

Steven gasped loudly, nodding, his eyes screwed up tight at the sensation. “Yeah, yeah, yes, good, nice, really good!” He rushed all his words together, the syllables becoming a blur.

“Good.” You muttered. Heat swam in your lower belly, pooled at your core just from watching him. His pretty little sounds hypnotic.

You scissored your fingers lightly, just enough to stretch his tight ring of muscle before going back to your tortuously slow, deep strokes.

His thighs shook slightly, his muscles twitching as he fought with them to keep them still.

You lean up, moving slightly so that you can swirl your tongue over the tip of his cock.

Steven whines and you sink down, taking him deeper into your throat, and the action breaks him.

“Fuck!” He hisses between his teeth, grabbing hold of your shoulder and bucking up into your warm, wet mouth and then grinding down onto your fingers. He can’t stop himself now, the last of his resolve breaking so easily under your touch.

You let him writhe under you for a minute, let him buck and moan and sob as nonsense falls from his mouth.

Incoherent pleas of, ‘love’ and ‘good’, and ‘more’.

You keep one arm pressed against his hips, stopping him from thrashing too much. Slowly you start to avoid his prostate, just skim along the edges of it, until he whines. Almost delirious under your touch. “Looove!”

You chuckle, pulling off his cock and chuckle before going back to stroking and stretching him wide.

“Shit, ah, thank you, I-” He swallows, gasping for air and then quickly his hands are on your shoulders, pushing you back. “Wait, love, wait, too much, sorry.”

You removed your fingers instantly, sitting up as panic chills your veins. “You okay?”

“Good,” he breathes in deeply, “really good. Too good.” He gives you a lopsided smile. “Didn’t want to cum.”

You smile back as his words soothe you. “I thought I’d hurt you.”

His eyebrows pinch together in concern. “Oh love, no, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“I know.” You give him a kiss and he chases after your mouth as you pull away.

You giggle. “I’ll be right back.” You quickly move away to the bathroom to wash your hands.

When you come back Steven has moved a little, now sitting more fully on the bed. He grins at you. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

“Oh?” You mock surprise as you approach him. “Am I?”

“Yes,” he grabs hold of you playfully and pulls you into an embrace as he kisses all over your face and neck. “Far too many.”

His hands are so warm, and you giggle as he slips them under your clothes, removing them like he was unwrapping a gift. He kisses your chest, lavishing attention on each breast before pulling you back down on top of him.

You let out a little squeak of surprise as he gently manhandles you into the position he wants - your thighs on either side of his head.

“Steven-”

“Hmm?” He asks innocently, pushing down on your hips so that your knees slide wider and your pussy inches closer to his waiting mouth.

“This is meant to be about you.” Your voice comes out weak and breathless.

“Oh, it is.” He whispers, leaning up and running a board, flat lick across your centre, and moaning loudly. The vibrations run up and along your clit.

You bite your lips together, trying to gain some kind of control over yourself as your toes curl and eyes roll back at the slow swipes of his tongue.

“Good job this is what I want then, isn’t it?” Steven mutters, his eyes dark and hungry before diving back to your folds and pressing you down to his waiting mouth.

“Steven,” you bite your lips together to hold back a moan, your right hand flying to the headboard, your left hand to his soft curls.

He wraps his arm around your waist, pushing down on your hips and rocking you back and forth against him, urging you to buck and grind on his tongue.

You can't help yourself, your muscles moving on instinct as you obey his commands without thinking.

Pleasure sparks low in your belly as he swirls his tongue over your clit, lightly scraping at you with his teeth before he curls his tongue through your folds and slips inside. You gasp, following his hypnotising rhythm as the familiar heat begins to build.

There’s a dull scratch of his stubble against your thighs as you ride him.

The bridge of his nose presses against your clit as he fucks his tongue deeper into you, groaning at every pull of his hair and every sound that falls from your lips.

His fingers dig in and bruise your skin, trying to bring you closer, urge you nearer despite the fact that you are as physically close as possible. It’s never enough for Steven, always hungry and desperate for more. More of your sounds, your taste, your warm, soft skin against his.

If you let him, he’d never stop. Would be content to spend the rest of his days with his head between your thighs.

Your toes start to curl, muscles clenching as the heady build of your orgasm begins to crest. So close, so close, so close. But you don’t want it yet.

You push on his forehead with the palm of your hand, moving your hips back and away from him. “Steven,” you breathe as his mouth chases after you, your words sounding indistinct from sighs of pleasure. You push against his head harder.

“Steven.” You try to inject some firmness into your voice, managing it barely.

He stops, his grip on your waist and thighs still tight, but he flops his head back against the pillows as he stares up at you. His eyes dark and hooded with lust, your slick covering the bottom half of his face. He’s breathing deep, his eyes dark, and his dick throbbing against his stomach. Hot and needy.

“You okay love?” He swallows as he asks, his chest heaving and you can feel the strain in his arms, the twitch of muscle as he fights with himself not to pull you back down onto his face.

You give him a sickeningly sweet smile, “Good, really good. Too good.” You repeat his previous words back at him. “Didn’t want to cum.”

“Love-”

“Wanna cum with you.”

He groans, biting his lip as his eyes roll back. He swallows and nods rapidly, almost as if he is afraid to speak and voice his deep-down urges.

You grin as you wiggle free of his grip, placing a quick kiss on his lips as you get off him and stand by the bed.

Steven sits up to watch you put the strap on, his eyes fixated on every movement. “Is it comfortable?” He breathes when you’ve adjusted it.

You nod.

He smiles, a little pinch of anxiety loosening.

You go to reach for the lube, but Steven clears his throat.

“Erm, love?” He waits until you look at him to continue. “Could I, erm, I mean, you can say no, if you don’t want to, I mean, could I maybe…?”

You stay quiet, not wanting to interrupt him. But you gently place your hand on his cheek, softly stroking his skin.

He swallows. “Could I suck it?”

A little smile pulls at your lips. “You wanna suck it?”

Steven nods, fiddling with his fingers.

“Get on your knees then.” You whisper, your voice low.

He moves fast, quickly scrambling off the bed and to his knees on the floorboards. You chuckle, stepping back slightly to give him some room. But Steven’s hands go to your hips, reaching around to knead and squeeze your ass and pull you closer.

He licks his lips, staring at the strap, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. Slowly he places a kiss to the very tip before ducking down to the very base and licking back up to the head, something you realise he has learnt from how you please him.

He takes the tip into his mouth, easing down slowly and bobbing back up. A low groan building in his chest.

“Fuck.” You whisper under your breath, almost too quiet for Steven to hear. Something about him there, on his knees, just does it for you.

With a little more force than you intend, you take hold of a handful of hair at the back of his head and push him deeper.

Steven moans louder. His eyes immediately snap open so he can stare up at you, lustful and cock dumb as salvia drips down his chin to mingle with your wetness that is still covering his skin.

He pushes against the strap ever so slightly, purposefully grinding the base of it against your clit and you gasp.

His dick twitches at the sound.

He swallows around the strap, easing further down, the silicon disappearing into his throat.

You pull him off with a harsh tug on his hair, a string of salvia connecting his mouth to the tip as he gasps for breath. His eyebrows pinched together.

“I get to fuck you now.” You growl and Steven nods his head swiftly.

He leans back and grabs the lube off the bed and hands it to you as he stands.

“How do you want to do it?” You ask as you pour a generous helping all over the length.

“Well,” a slight blush graces his cheeks, touches the tips of his ears. “I was reading,” another flash of Steven furiously jerking off at his desk in front of the laptop as he was ‘researching’ plays behind your eyes, “and there’s, erm, this position that’s meant to be really good.” He shifts his weight back and forth for a second before moving.

He places both hands on the edge of the bed, spreads his legs on the floor, and leans forward like he’s doing a slightly adapted version of a downward dog. “And, I was thinking-” His sharp intake of breath cuts off his words as you pour more lube against his entrance.

“You want me to fuck you like this?”

He nods, his lip back between his teeth. “Uh huh.”

You lean forward a little and his shoulder blade. “I think we can do that.”

He groans at your words, the sounds growing in pitch as you press the tip of the strap against his hole.

“You okay? You need me to warm you up some more?”

“No, please, I’m good, keep going, keep,” he pushes back against you, trying to work the dildo into himself on his own.

You chuckle a little at his eagerness, sliding your hand down to his right hip to steady him as you painstakingly slowly thrust forward. It sinks into him. Steven lets out a satisfied moan as the bulbous head inches past his tight ring of muscle. His hands fist at the bedsheet.

You can take your eyes off how it just disappears into him. The way he stretches around it, completely split open. You swear quietly under your breath and pull his cheeks apart ever so slightly so you can experience the full view as he greedily swallows the strap.

“Fuck, Steven, you look so good like this.”

He moans in response, his eyes screwing up in bliss, feeling so full. The thickness of the strap in him, your hands on him, the heat of your skin as the front of your thighs kiss against the backs of his. It’s almost too much.

His cock throbs painfully hard, heavy, and pleading for relief. So persistent it’s almost maddening.

Finally, you bottom out, your hips flush against him. You ease out again slowly, savouring the torturous pace as you pull back until the tip is barely inside before sinking in.

“You look so good like this Steven,” you praise and delight in his little whimper. “So good taking all of this for me.”

He nods rapidly, eyes screwed shut. He shifts a little as you slide back into him, dropping to his elbows against the bed.

“Next time, shit,” you start to move a little faster. The press of the strap against your clit burning deliciously. “Next time, I’m gonna take photos of you split open like this.”

He moans wantonly.

“Gonna take a video of how well you take me. Of what a good boy you are.” You slide deeper, brushing against his prostate and Steven keens, his back arching. “Gonna watch it every day, gonna touch myself and cum looking at you,” warmth spread along your veins, tightening in your core.

“Oh fuck, please, please, please,” he grinds back into your every thrust, needing you deeper, harder, craving anything you would give. Words pile up in his mind, so many that it’s practically impossible for them all to fall out of his mouth. He wants you, needs you, everywhere. Everything you could possibly do to him. He’ll suffocate without it.

Pleasure sparks up from the base of his spine, tightening his muscles and he’s so, so close to just falling into it.

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease,” he slurs, “take videos of me,” he whines, too cockdumb to have any verbal filter. “Split me open, fuck, post them online, I want everyone to seee- Ah!” He sobs as you thrust particularly deep, and you focus all your energy on hitting the same spot over and over.

“You want everyone to see Steven?” You lean forward, hissing in his ear. “You want everyone to see how well you can take it?” Want them all to cum looking at you.”

“Ohshit!” He can’t help it, the thought of it, it’s too much. He tenses, moaning loudly. Every muscle clenches as he cums, spilling thick ropes all over the side of the bed and floorboard. Splashes hitting his stomach. He had intended to warn you when he was close, but now he just can’t stop as he convulses through his orgasm, the pleasure twisting and building impossibly in his stomach.

You kiss his shoulder blade and start to slow your hips.

“No, no, no, no,” he reaches around to grab hold of your hips, moving back against you. “Please, please, keep going, I think I can, ah!” He rocks on the balls on his feet as you start thrusting again. “I think I can cum again, please.”

You groan at how he leans back into you, his breathy, needy, desperate whines, all of it combines to make you lightheaded.

Steven grabs at your right hand, his eyes half closed, mouth hanging open. For a moment you think he just wants to link fingers but he quickly moves it to his head.

“Pull, pull my hair, please, pull me back, just- fuck!”

You do as he asks, taking a large fistful of hair and yanking him towards your chest. He moans loudly as you pull, his spine arching, his throat bobbing as it bends under your grip. He barely manages to keep hold of the bed with both hands, his thighs shaking with the effort of keeping himself upright.

It’s like there’s a snap in his abdomen releasing bliss and pleasure overwhelms every thought.

He sobs out your name as he cums again. Every nerve shaking. And while not much more than a dribble shoots out of his aching cock, he cums harder than he thought possible. It’s like liquid gold explodes along every cell, coating and purifying every single part of him.

He doesn’t remember blacking out for a second, but he must have because the next thing he knows is that he’s in your arms. Your muscles hold him steady and stop him from falling back and smacking his head against the corner of the bedside table.

“Steven?” There’s a tiny pinch of panic in your voice that makes his chest hurt. The idea that you’re worried about him, that he caused your worry is almost too much in that moment.

“I’m fine love, sorry,” he moves to stand fully, taking his weight off of you. “That was so amazing, I just…” He breathes deeply.

You keep your arms around him, keep up that steadying hold. “Are you sure you're-” You yelp, the rest of your sentence lost as Steven turns quickly, pulling the strap on out of himself with a wet pop.

He kisses you deeply, his hands on your cheeks as he slides his tongue into your mouth and groans.

It’s so sudden that you barely register his movements before he’s turning you around and pressing you back against the bed. (Purposefully avoiding the wet patch he left, with mumbles of how he’d change the bedding later.)

He unbuckles the strap hastily, his short nails leaving shallow scratches before he throws it to the side.

“Steve-”

He kneels, dragging your hips to the mattress's edge and spreading your thighs wide.

Without any pause he quickly slides two thick fingers into your aching heat, groaning low in his chest at your wetness. You gasp as he curls them, finding that perfect spot instantly as he strokes your walls.

“Steven, you don’t have to-” Your moan cuts off the rest of your words as he leans forward and presses a board, flat lick across your clit. Timing the movement with the caress of his fingers.

You squirm against his touch, already so worked up, and fight the urge to clamp your legs around his face.

Steven looked up at you, large puppy dog eyes dark and hungry.

Heat builds rapidly in your core, the sound of your wetness echoing around the flat.

He dips his tongue down, slipping in through your folds and into your core just above his fingers. He moans as your muscles tense, never taking his eyes off you.

His name falls from your lips like a prayer as your rock against him, trying to chase that tantalising pressure. Needing more.

The movement of his tongue and fingers overtakes and outshines any other possible thought as all you can do is mindlessly buck against his face as you near your high.

Steven presses deeper, slipping in a third finger and nudging the bridge of his nose against your clit. And fuuccccck.

You cum against him with a wail you’d be embarrassed about if you could formulate thoughts. Every possible thought is overtaken by the sudden wave of pleasure he pulls out of you, drowns you in. Stars dance behind your eyes as your muscles shake.

Steven laps at you steadily, prolonging your orgasm for as long as possible until you are gasping, tears in your eyes from the overstimulation.

You place a hand on his shoulder and he slowly withdrawals his fingers, groaning at the white, creamy mess you left on his digits.

He presses a kiss against your knee as you breathe hard.

“I think the strap was a success.” He says, quite matter of factly, as if you had just managed to find a slightly quicker route to work.

You giggle as he glances up at you and pulls a silly face. “Definitely.”

He pauses for one moment, nuzzling against your thigh. “I, erm, maybe we don’t upload videos of me online though.” He blushes a little and you lean down, kissing him deeply.

“I know that was just sex talk, those are all for me anyway.”

He chuckles and kisses you again. “Didn’t… weird you out or anything?”

You shake your head. “I loved it.”

“Good.” He leans into your embrace as you wrap your arms around him.

“Though, if we did upload videos of you,” you tease, “I’m sure we’d make so much money, you could buy all the books you wan-”

You yelp and giggle as Steven tackles you back onto the bed and kisses you roughly.

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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flowerandblood · 1 year ago

Text

The Prince and The Fox (2)

[ modern! • Aemond x friend! • female ]

[ warnings: bullying, mention of sexual abuse, trauma ]

[ description: After the events of her childhood, despite her best efforts, her neighbor and the younger brother of her friend Helaena, Aemond, does not want to know her. This state lasts until a house party organized by his older brother, Aegon, during which an incident occurs that will change their relationship forever. Slow burn, angst, toxic ex-Alys, rough Aemond. This is several anon requests combined into one fic. ]

WARNING: The main plot between the characters takes place in high school. Yes, in high school. The belief that teenagers wait with an intimacy when they are in love in high school is ridiculous to me. Aemond and the character here are the same age. Don't ask me how old they are, in my country you are of the age of consent in your first year of high school and an adult in the last year of high school, so if it is more convenient for you, think about it that way and decide for yourself. In this story, I am not following the trail that they are magically friends right away, but how they become friends and what that even means. I'm writing this fic to give the perspective of young, lost people, not adult women who want to see exactly themselves in everything they read. If that's all you expect, this isn't the fic for you.

I don't want whining about this in my comments or asks. I will delete these and block you. You have been warned.

Aemond + Evans Series Moodboard

This is my first story that has its own playlist, but yes! Get in the mood! Story Music Playlist. Songs used in this chapter: Turn Your Back on me & The Lion's Mouth by Kajagoogoo and Welcome to the Jungle by Guns N' Roses.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

That night she slept very badly. Her parents asked why she had come back so early and if she had enjoyed herself. She burst out crying, unaccustomed to lying, and told them what had happened.

Her father was furious, stormed out of the house and made her show him which boy had nagged and touched her. She begged him to let it go, Cregan had been away from the party for a long time, they had gone somewhere with friends.

Her father said he wouldn't leave it like that and demanded to speak to Aemond. The next morning she appeared, accompanied by her father, at their house, embarrassed, her father explaining what had happened. Their mother was shocked by what she had heard.

She, her father, Alicent, Aegon, Aemond and Helaena sat down in the living room to talk about it.

"What? God, I swear, Mum, I didn't know Cregan would do something like that!" Mumbled Aegon, shocked at what had happened, Helaena was distraught and sat beside her, stroking her hand. Aemond looked at her, some kind of understanding in his eyes.

He felt that she had done the right thing telling her parents about it.

"Aemond, my daughter told me that you stopped him and stood up for her. I am very grateful to you and I want to ask you, if his parents insisted that it was word against word, will you be able to confirm what she said?" Her father asked, and he nodded without hesitation, tightening his lips.

"Yes. It was exactly as she said. I heard him tell his mates at school during break that he was planning to fuck her here at the party." He said in shame, lowering his gaze, his mother shaking her head in disbelief, slapping her hands on her thighs in a gesture of helplessness and rage.

"And you kept silent?" She asked with disappointment and pain. He pressed his lips together and swallowed hard, overwhelmed apparently by remorse.

She felt her stomach tighten at the thought that he really hadn't meant to stop then, that he could have done something much worse to her.

Aemond lifted a gaze full of pain and shame at her.

"I-I thought he was just bragging to his mates and... I don't know, that you're into each other. That maybe you want this too. That he's actually a good guy and wouldn't do anything to you against your will. But when I saw your face when he started touching your thigh on the couch, that look of discomfort, I…" He said in a slightly trembling voice and paused, looking her straight in the eye.

She swallowed hard, understanding what he wanted to say.

He didn't expect it from him either.

She nodded, feeling warm in her heart nonetheless at the thought that he had followed them out to see if anything would happen to her.

If he would hurt her.

She covered her face with her hand, her father put his arm around her and stroked her tenderly.

"It's good that you spoke about it, sweetheart. You can't leave it like that." Alicent said, nodding her head. Suddenly she clapped her hands as if she remembered something.

"The cameras! Our security company keeps footage for 48 hours. We also have one in the garden in case of a break-in, why don't I call them and ask them to send us the video from yesterday? We'll check if we can see anything on it." She suggested, her father said it was an excellent idea.

She lowered her head, terrified that her father and others would be able to see it, that perhaps on the video it wouldn't look like sexual assault at all.

After all, she had hugged him herself.

They waited impatiently by Alicent's laptop, sitting down and glancing at her inbox, the security company employee who was in charge of her equipment said he would try to send her the footage within fifteen minutes.

They all flinched and moved closer as a new message appeared with a video file. She swallowed loudly, terrified, ashamed, feeling a tightening in her stomach and throat, afraid that it didn't look at all like she said it did, that everyone would think she was lying, that they would never believe her again.

She felt herself shaking, her knee moving up and down in an involuntary tic. She shuddered when she heard someone put a chair next to her, Aemond sat down touching her with his knees and shoulders, placing his elbows on the table, leaning over the monitor.

"It was about ten o'clock at night, Mum. I remember because by the time I left the clock was striking the hour in the living room." He said lowly, and Alicent quickly ran the cursor to that hour and turned on the accelerator a few times.

"Oh okay, mum, it's them, I can see Cregan!" Said Aegon, leaning between them, turning off the acceleration. Alicent pressed the spacebar, stopping the video.

"Do you want everyone to watch this?" She asked her quietly. She looked around and thought, in essence, that she recognised that these were people she trusted, who she hoped cared about her.

She nodded, swallowing hard.

Alicent pressed play.

The camera was up high and part of the bench was obscured by the canopy, their faces not visible. She saw them sit down, saw his arm around her, stroking her hand for a moment. She felt a cold sweat on her back as she saw his fingers lift higher and higher, heard Aegon and his mother draw in a loud breath as his hand slid under her dress.

Her father covered his mouth, heartbroken when he saw her hand immediately clamp down on his wrist in a clear gesture of defence, her whole body tense, it was obvious she was trying to pull away, to push back, to escape, and instead of letting her go he pressed her tighter against him.

She felt tears under her eyelids and lowered her head, not knowing where to look, she felt Aemond press his body closer to hers, felt his breath on the top of her head, felt him looking at her.

"− Jesus −" Muttered Aegon in disbelief, running a hand over his face. "− fucking piece of shit −"

Then they could already see Cregan and Aemond struggling with each other, her sitting down on the grass and crying, Aemond crouching down beside her and putting his arms around her, saying something to her.

The footage had no sound, but what could be seen on it was enough to clearly understand what had happened.

Her father got up and said he needed to get some air for a while and smoke a cigarette. Alicent followed him out, apparently wanting to work out what they were going to do, whether to report it to the police or not.

She felt Helaena's warm embrace, felt her lay her head on her shoulder and hugged her immediately, Aegon and Aemond looked at them in silence.

"− I'm sorry − fuck − if I had known, I would never have invited him! − I saw you two cuddling on the couch in the living room, but God, I thought you two were just in love − that, I don't know, you're together, just unofficially yet −" He mumbled, and she swallowed loudly, rubbing her eyes, trying to pull herself together.

"− please, Aegon − it's not your fault − you didn't do anything wrong − don't worry, I won't tell anyone about the alcohol −" She said quietly, tiredly, and he sighed heavily, scratching his head, clearly distraught that something like this had happened at his own party.

Aemond said nothing, fiddling with his mug of already half-cold coffee, it seemed to her that he hadn't slept well that night either.

Her father had decided that they would drive with this recording to his parents.

She was horrified.

"I will go with you." Aemond said, and her father nodded.

They drove there together in their car with Alicent's laptop. They sat side by side in the back seat, she saw that he was pulling at the cuticles around his fingernails again, she noticed with pain that he had actual wounds around them.

When he saw in the reflection in the window that she was looking at him he stopped immediately and swallowed loudly, lowering his gaze.

He was stressed too.

When they arrived a surprised Mrs Stark opened the door for them, asking who they were and what had happened.

"I would like to talk to you about your son."

She, Aemond and her father sat on the couch on one side and Cregan and his parents on the other as her father played them the video. Cregan was pale, sitting with his arms folded, feigning indifference, his knee shaking restlessly, he was biting his lower lip, his eyes red.

He was terrified.

His mother made big eyes when she saw the moment he slipped his hand under her dress and looked at him with disbelief mixed with pain. His father snorted, shrugging his shoulders.

"And what, are you going to go to the police? Destroy a young boy's life because he made a mistake, because his hormones are raging?" He asked as if it was a trivial matter, a complete nothing. She felt the rage surge in her father.

"Because of your son's hormones, he can act like a mindless monkey and grope girls who don't want him to?" He hissed, his father raising his eyebrows, pointing at her with his hand.

"Please, forgive me, but from what I can see in this video your daughter was pushing herself into his arms, after all he could have misunderstood her…"

"Mark." Said his wife, clearly not believing what she was hearing, pale.

Her father stood up, pointing his finger at her.

"My child came home crying because someone molested her. He only stopped because her classmate went out into the garden. And what would your son do if no one helped her, hm? How long would he hold her while she tried to break free?" He thundered furiously on the verge of tears, she had never seen him like this before.

She just sat on the couch, looking at her shoes, shaking all over, feeling that her biggest nightmare had just taken place in front of her eyes.

Please, forgive me, but from what I can see in this video your daughter was pushing herself into his arms.

Mr Stark raised his hands in a defensive gesture as if to show that his aim was not to argue or escalate the conflict.

"I admit, my son acted unwisely. He misread the girl's signals and behaved badly. We will be watching him more closely in this area. Is that all?" He asked, and her father closed the laptop with a loud slam and growled to them that they were leaving.

She stood up and cast one last look in Cregan's direction, he was looking at her with a hatred she had never seen in her life before.

She burst into sobs as soon as they got into the car, her father comforting her loudly telling her not to cry, that they were driving to the police station.

"No, no, please, no!" She whimpered, leaning forward, grabbing his arm, her father looked at her in the mirror.

"What?"

"I can't do it, I can't do it anymore. I… stop, I think I'm going to throw up." She mumbled, her father stopped with a squeal of tyres. She got out and immediately vomited on the grass, coughing and crying, feeling her stomach convulse in pain.

She heard them both get out of the car, her father put his arms around her saying that everything would be fine, Aemond stood beside them not knowing what to do with himself, not knowing how to behave.

The next few days at school were extremely difficult for her. Some of her friends and acquaintances were shocked and horrified, giving her their complete support and understanding, saying they were disappointed by Cregan's behaviour.

However, others thought that she was simply lying.

"Attention whore." One of his friends growled, hitting her on the shoulder with his arm as he walked past her.

She saw that someone had scratched the word 'liar' on her locker standing in the corridor. She looked at it indifferently, then opened it as if nothing had happened and exchanged the books she needed with the ones she could put away.

This time he was the one looking at her.

She felt his gaze on her back in the classroom, in the corridor, as she sat at the bus stop looking at her shoes.

For some reason, even though she was alive and everything was going on, she felt dead.

She couldn't erase his touch from her mind.

She sat on the bus in total reverie, occupying the seat at the back by the window, sitting in her earphones, listening recently to nothing but Kajagoogoo songs, 'Too shy', 'Turn Your Back On Me', 'Ooh to Be Ah', 'The Lion's Mouth' looped on her player.

Their electronic sound and the wonderful bass guitar in the background energised her when she had no strength and couldn't rouse herself.

She had just listened to 'Turn Your Back On Me' for the second time since the morning when she felt someone sit down next to her.

She glanced to the side and spotted a black sweatshirt, familiar hands clicking something on his phone, apparently pausing the song he had just listened to on his player, she saw that it was 'Welcome to the Jungle' by Guns N' Roses. She pulled down one earpiece, looking at him in surprise.

"What are you listening to?" He asked, pulling on the cord of his black earphones, which dropped gently onto his lap with a quiet click.

She handed him her earphone, which he took from her, placing it in his left ear, moving a little closer to her so that there was enough cable for both of them. He mused, listening.

"Interesting." He muttered lowly, glancing at her player.

"Kajagoogoo." She said quietly, going into the track list so he could see what their songs were called.

"Nice bass." He admitted, as if surprised by this discovery himself. She nodded and closed her eyes, resting her temple against the glass, just sinking into the sound of the music.

He listened to the songs of her favourite band with her until they reached the school.

When the bus stopped he handed her back her earpiece, their hands touched. They looked at each other, for the first time so closely. He picked up his backpack and rose, trying not to hit his head on the low ceiling and walked out in front of her, no longer paying attention to her.

She walked through the corridor of her school listening to "The Lion's Mouth", trying not to pay attention to whether anyone was looking at her or not, focusing on the words of the song, staring blankly ahead.

Hey fool watch out! (Watch out) You'll get mauled by the lion's mouth -

Hey fool watch out! (Watch out) You'll get mauled by the lion's mouth (I don't think so) -

Hey fool watch out! (Watch out) You'll get mauled by the lion's mouth -

The music suddenly stopped when someone tripped her up. She wobbled and fell over, collapsing on the floor, her earphones falling out of her ears. She lifted herself up on her arms and turned over her shoulder, noticing Cregan's hateful stare.

A moment later, several things happened at the same time. Aemond who threw him to the floor, pounding his face with his fist, holding his sweatshirt, growling that he was a fucking piece of shit, a mere abuser, a nobody, a zero.

His colleagues and teachers had to separate them, Cregan spat blood on the floor.

She felt someone grab her shoulders, Helaena stood over her, looking at her in horror.

"Are you all right?"

She sat in her classroom terrified, glancing anxiously over her shoulder at the empty seat in the bench he sat in, knowing that he and Cregan had ended up at the headmaster's office.

That he was in trouble because of her, that he could be suspended because of her.

She shuddered when she heard the sound of the door opening and saw him step inside, the teacher paused his reasoning for a moment and grunted, returning to the subject of the lesson.

Aemond walked over to his bench without a word, not looking at her, and sat down in his chair, pulling off his backpack, taking out his textbooks and notebook, giving her one calm look.

She pulled her phone quickly from her sweatshirt pocket, reminding herself that she had his phone number, and quickly texted him.

She heard his phone vibrate on his bench. She sat looking ahead, feeling her heart pounding hard.

After a moment, the display of her phone lying on her thighs lit up and she saw that she had received a new message. She opened it quickly, feeling a tightness in her throat.

She turned towards him over her shoulder, his lips curving into a grin. She smiled gratefully at him and breathed quietly, turning ahead, trying to finally focus on what her teacher was talking about.

Boarding the bus after class, she dared to sit next to him. They looked at each other, he watched as she untangled her earphones and plugged them into her phone. She saw him pull his own off and pause his player.

"Are you going to listen to that band with weird name again?" He asked lowly and she nodded, smiling at him.

He held out his hand to her and she handed him her earpiece, this time with her left hand, turning on 'The Lion's Mouth'.

"This is my favourite." She admitted with a smile, feeling calm for some reason, her stomach filled with warmth.

"Mmm." He hummed, their elbows resting against each other lying on their armrest, however neither of them seemed to mind.

She understood then.

The Little Prince took a step towards the Fox of his free will.

She smiled under her breath.

He wanted her to tame him.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy

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