#referenced past sa

[honeycollectswhump]

Things End | People Change – Healing

to the surprise of literally no one, i've been insane about vincent again... enjoy the result of that: a continuation of this!! i guess this is a slight spoiler for @whumpcloud's story? but rather for the vibe than specific plot points

CW: implied / undertones of past sa, references to past torture and starvation

There it is again. The thing, the wobbly metal plate Vincent has come to think of as a weird mirror. It’s the best he’ll get anyway, even though he likes to steal glances at the way modern mirrors are shaped and designed so very differently than what he grew up with. He is denied any grace of a reflection though, another trade for immortality and power he thought so simple. And yet…

Sometimes when he sees Clary’s reflection, her posture held high and proud, just like she should be, Vincent’s mind drifts, wishing for a similar soul that would allow him to see himself as he is. Unlike before though, he doesn’t dwell on it. The knowledge simply is, passing briefly through him, but barely leaving an impact.

Now, he’s in front of his almost-mirror, that twists and turns his shape and everything around him, that Cai got rid of again after what happened the first and last time Vincent had it in his room. The dent –a reminder of what happened– is still visible, distorting the reflections even more. It surprises him that Cai didn’t throw it away and instead just disposed of it in this room, that holds so many memories but mostly also old possessions they can’t seem to bring themselves to get rid of. 

Today, the twins have decided to declutter and Vincent is more than delighted to help. Maybe his vampiric strength couldn’t protect him, but now it can help with the mundane chores that come with everyday life, and maybe that's worth something more too.

Which is how he ended up here, once again face to face with his own warped reflection, and he can’t help but stare. He looks…different?

Logically, Vincent knows he shouldn’t look the same as he did after years of starvation and torture, that he prefers to bury in some dark corner of his mind. But without a reliable method of visualising himself, and too afraid of appearing eternally, cursedly bloodstained, he never dwelled too long on how his body might look, never even debated asking Clary or Cai. It was for the better that way. 

He’s not bloodsoaked though, his hands are not stained with ash sticking to him like goo, the scars where he ripped his own skin off in an attempt to cleanse himself of the reminder are long gone.

Instead, as he steps forward to take a closer look, he finds that his face seems softer. Gone are the hard edges carved by malnutrition, the sunken-in eyes setting shadows over what remains of Henry. His now rounded jawline is a stark contrast to what it used to be, and together with his slightly plump cheeks, feign a picture of youth.  Against all odds and the passing of centuries, he feels like twenty-two again, when he was still unburdened with immortality and foolishly wishing for a change. 

His hair is changed too, though he consciously worked towards that. He knows from the way it feels, his curls finally getting defined, the length cut regularly. It takes work, but it feels nice, so nice to finally have something only he can control.

Suddenly, a stray thought overcomes him, and Vincent sheepishly looks around for any onlookers, even though his vampiric hearing already tells him that the twins are busy in the living room. Hesitantly, almost afraid of what he will see, Vincent lifts his jumper up.

Maybe he should feel embarrassed at such a childish action, but right now his curiosity overwhelms any sort of shame. 

He chose the jumper by himself too, just like he decides how his hair looks, even though Clary said it makes him look like a grandfather, said that he is finally acting his age. Before, he would have scrambled to rip the fabric off of his body in a desperate attempt to please her again, but now he knows that she is joking. It feels good to know.

His skin is more lifelike, a blush shining through the paleness that makes him look like a dead man. It’s not just that though. Where once protruding ribs used to sit, he can’t even see his bones now, not even a hint when he stretches. It’s a hard-earned layer of fat, chubbiness he’d never take for granted

All of it is both a gift and a symbol, showing the care of feeding him every single day even when it comes at a cost to the twins. He can’t even remember the last time someone showed him such consideration, and it must have been back with Henry, two lifetimes ago, but now that thought doesn’t fill him with the same sadness anymore that it did before. 

He is not just grieving something of the past. Care was given once before and it will be given again, no matter how unlikely that still feels to him. Every moment he spends with Clary shows him that. Despite it all, life became good again.

It feels almost easy to believe, that his flesh and skin are ignorant of what happened, that the memory went past them like a light breeze, leaving no mark. Like seeking a thrill, Vincent looks for the imprints he once saw, collaring his neck, tainting his heart and hips. He–

He can find none.

Like a piece of paper left blank, he feels oddly empty. Even without seeing them, he had grown accustomed to expecting them there. The knowledge painting a clear picture spoken in dark, hand-shaped prints holding onto him forever. Something even death could never erase, and yet… And yet he finds himself devoid of such things, finds himself almost—

He cannot finish that thought, cannot think further, not yet. 

The curiosity that had taken hold of him made room for a wondrous disbelieve. Vincent looks closer, he finally does, expecting to see contradictions to the fickle hope bubbling in his chest like a new heart.

Another person stares back. 

Not the timid boy, with his eternally lowered gaze for reasons he couldn’t understand, hunching his back to make himself as unassuming as possible, always, next to everyone else. Born soft and squishy just to force himself into a rigid form, fitting in with expectations he could never hold, his spine bending under the weight. That never changed, not even after becoming a vampire, especially not with Lyfelde. One head held up high, the other forcefully pushed down. 

That’s not who he sees, though. Instead, he sees a young man, standing straight, only bending through the warbling mirror. There is a shine in his Henry-green eyes, and for a moment Vincent thinks that if someone were to look in his face, they’d notice his eyes first and the scar second. Maybe, the scar wouldn’t catch their attention at all. 

He can’t remember the last time was allowed to look this soft, the last time he allowed it himself. It goes beyond his rounded cheeks that bring back an air of innocent youth, beyond the comfy sweaters with the good texture. It’s the smile that comes to him easier, the glimmer it brings to his eyes, the silly laugh at stupid things he isn’t afraid to hide. It’s the piles of books, old and new, about linguistics, and the evenings where Clary listens to his rambles. It’s that somehow, before this moment, he had never noticed it all like this, never noticed the meaning beyond the thankfulness that occasionally overwhelms him.

It’s that all of this has never been touched by Lyfelde.

Maybe some of his impact will never leave Vincent, like the honour of creating the last scar his body could ever remember. Maybe he will never be who he was before Lyfelde. But, and the thought makes him feel almost giddy, he is not who he was with Lyfelde anymore either. A metamorphosis maybe, two- or threefold, a life categorised by before’s and after’s but never always’.  

Vincent hopes –victoriously–, that if Lyfelde saw him today, with all of his joy, and love, and caring friends that are starting to feel like family, he would be unrecognisable to him.

[queermentaldisaster]

I crave soft Ghoap...

Give me Ghost constantly avoiding sexual intimacy with Soap because he's still working through that trauma from Roba.

Give me Ghost breaking down, feeling like he's a horrible boyfriend because he can't even be intimate with his boyfriend.

Give me Soap finding him in the midst of the breakdown and helping him through it.

Give me Ghost Simon opening up to Soap Johnny

Give me Johnny telling him that he'll wait until Simon is ready.

Give me their first time.

Give me Johnny comforting Simon and reassuring him the whole time.

Give me soft and tender Ghoap sex.

Give me Johnny helping Simon work through his trauma the best he can.

[foxy-eva]

Warm Embrace

Summary: Spencer and his wife explore ways to be intimate with each other after a traumatic event

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader 

Category: Hurt/Comfort, Smut

Please read the CW, this story contains potentially triggering topics! 

Content Warnings: (18+, minors DNI) referenced past SA of Reader (non-graphic), implied flashbacks, trauma related sexual problems, conversations about sex and intimacy, nudity, kissing, mutual masturbation, handjob, thigh riding

Word count: 5.4k

Masterlist

“Spencer?” Your voice echoed through the apartment when you stepped through the door and found no sign of your husband. 

A distant sound came from the bathroom. “In here!” 

After a quiet knock on the door and his confirmation that you could step in, you found Spencer sitting in the bathtub. The room was filled with the lavender scent of the bath soap and what you could see of his body was covered in bubbles. It almost looked comical how his knees stuck out of the water, making it obvious that the tub was not big enough to accommodate his long limbs. 

“I was too tired to take a shower,” he explained after discovering your curious expression. 

“I can see that,” you laughed. “I thought you hated taking baths.”

“Honestly, I think I’m starting to understand why you like them so much. This isn't too bad.”

You stood there for a few moments, smiling at the sight in front of you. Then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, you slowly began shedding your clothes. 

“Mind if I join you?” you wondered. 

Nothing about this situation would be unusual for any other married couple. Just a few months ago neither of you would have questioned your actions. Back then initiating any form of intimacy with each other felt natural and familiar. 

Things were different now, though. 

Spencer cleared his throat and shifted his position. “Are you sure about this?”

There was a reason to ask. For the past months any attempt to get close to each other resulted in you crying for the rest of the night. Something as simple as him placing his hand on your thigh was enough to startle you. 

A sigh rolled over your lips as you dropped your shirt to the floor. “No,” you confessed. “But I miss you.”

“I’m right here,” he reminded you.

That was not what you meant and he knew that. Of course he understood the meaning of your words. Spencer was well aware of the fact that ever since that son of a bitch hurt you, you fought a constant battle between wanting his nearness and pushing him away. 

Your husband gave you the space you needed and was there to hold you whenever you’d let him. It couldn't have been easy for him either but he never once complained about this new reality you had a live. 

A reality where that person took something from you that you’d never get back. It was hard to shake this feeling of being tainted after having your physical integrity stripped away like that. You were distant and closed off when it came to intimacy, despite your best efforts to get back to what once was normal. It had been months since Spencer even saw you unclothed.

That was about to change. 

Slowly, you pulled down your pants before reaching back to undo your bra. Spencer's sight followed the piece of clothing as it dropped to the floor before settling on your face again. 

“Stop profiling me,” you warned him with a playful undertone in your voice. 

“Sorry, I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

By pulling down your panties, you shed your last piece of clothing, leaving you completely bare in front of your husband. It was a strange feeling to reveal yourself to him. It felt new yet familiar to allow him to see you. 

However, he didn't dare to look, even when you approached the tub. It wasn't clear whether he just tried to be respectful or if seeing you like this for the first time after months was too much for him to bear. His reaction reminded you that he never answered your question about you joining him. Maybe he was the one who wasn’t okay with this. 

Spencer’s eyes widened as he noticed the change of your mood before you did. Within a split second your heart started pounding and you stepped back to reach for your bathrobe. 

“Sorry, this was a stupid idea,” you muttered as you turned around to shield your body from his sight and your heart from the rejection. 

“My love,” he cooed from behind you.

The sound of splashing water gave away that he was exiting the tub. From the corner of your eyes you saw how he reached for his own robe. 

You felt his presence behind you. “Can I touch you?”

You nodded as you turned around, finding him wrapped in his robe with water still dripping from his jawline. Spencer reached out his hands to pull you into his arms. 

“What just happened?” He wondered, his voice laced with concern. 

Before you could think about it, you mumbled, “You didn't want to look at me.”

Your husband thought about your words for a moment, replaying the scene that had just unfolded in his mind. What you said wasn’t true. He wanted to look at you, to admire you fully like he had done countless times before. 

“I was afraid it would make you uncomfortable,” he confessed as he pulled back to be able to find your eyes. 

It was hard to read your expression which was not surprising considering you were mostly confused about your current state yourself.

“I miss the way you used to look at my body. I miss being close to you,” you whispered and paused for a moment. “I miss… sex.”

He closed his eyes before placing an innocent kiss on your forehead. “I know,” he breathed. Me too, he thought.

“Do you still think about it?” You wanted to know. 

“Sex?” 

Nodding, you watched his facial features intently. Ever since your attack, there were many occasions when the two of you had tiptoed around this subject. But never before had you been so blunt about it. 

It seemed like he was looking for the right words. “Yes, I do,” was what he settled on.

Raising your eyebrows, you asked, “With me?” 

The insecurity in your question wasn’t lost on Spencer but he still couldn't hold back a breathy laugh. “Of course, silly girl. You're my wife.”

“It’s just been so long that I would understand if you ever thought about doing it with someone else.”

“Stop that right now,” he said with a firm yet loving tone. “I would never cheat on you.” 

A shaky breath escaped your throat before you dared to say what had been bugging you for weeks now. “What if I’ll never be ready? What if things won’t ever be like before?” 

“That would be okay, too,” he reassured you. “There are many ways to create nearness and intimacy. Sex is just one way but it’s not necessary. At least for me it’s not.” 

“So you’d be okay to live without sex?” 

“Before I met you I thought that was my only option,” he quipped. 

You knew there had been a handful of women before you but you appreciated his joke nonetheless. It made you smile. 

Spencer let his fingertips brush over your cheeks. “But to answer your question, yes, I would be okay with that.”

His words were genuine. The way he looked at you with the most loving expression made your heart jump. The amber of his irises radiated a warmth you could get drunk on. You nestled your head against his chest and he held you even closer against his body. He was right. Sex wasn’t necessary to create nearness. However, you were still curious about what else you felt safe enough to try. 

“I want to get into the bathtub with you,” you whispered. “And I want you to look at me.” 

Loosening the embrace, you looked at your husband. With a nod he confirmed that he wanted that, too. 

With shaking fingers you brushed over his robe before gripping the material. “And I want to see you, too.”

Together you helped each other out of your robes until you stood bare in front of each other. You took a moment to admire the man in front of you. It had been a while since you had seen him like that. Unlike you he didn't deliberately hide his body from your sight but there hadn’t been many occasions in the past few months that allowed you to see him unclothed. 

His body looked familiar yet different at the same time. His tummy was a little bit softer than you remembered and you imagined what it would feel like underneath your palm. 

Spencer dared to let his eyes drop down to take in every inch of skin within sight. The way he looked at you made your skin tingle and you noticed how it broke out in goosebumps. 

“You're so beautiful,” he purred as he tentatively brushed over your arms. 

Tilting your head, you placed a soft kiss on his lips before breathing against them, “So are you.”

He took your hand in his to walk you over to the bathtub. Your husband got in first, bending his knees in an attempt to make himself smaller than he was. There was enough space to join him, a relieved sigh falling from your lips when you felt the warm water enveloping your body. 

First you sat a little awkwardly opposite one another for a few moments before you felt confident enough to get closer. Gently, you placed your hands on his knees to part them before moving closer to lean against his body sitting between his legs. Spencer’s heart pounded rapidly against his ribcage as you nestled against his chest. 

“Is that okay?” You wanted to make sure. 

“Yeah, I uh… I’m not sure where to put my hands,” he chuckled and you noticed how they hovered above the edge of the bathtub. 

Taking his hands in yours, you guided them towards the water, placing them underneath your chest. Even though you expected his touch, you still jerked when you felt his palms make contact with your body. 

Instinctively, your husband wanted to retract his hands again but you held them still with your own palms pressed against them. Once the initial shock faded, you were certain that you wanted to be held exactly like that. 

A part of you still wanted to fight this vulnerable situation but a much bigger, much more confident part longed to be close to the love of your life. 

It was as if Spencer sensed your ambiguity. “You okay?” 

“Yes,” you confirmed. Then you thought about the way your body flinched when he touched you. It had happened before each time Spencer had touched you in places that he had touched, too. “I just feel like my body has to relearn a couple of things.”

Spencer nodded before finally being able to relax a bit. He leaned back while holding you against him, relishing the sensation of having you close without any barriers between you. Just for a moment he forgot about what had happened to you and to your own surprise, so did you. 

For the following weeks you made it a new habit to take baths with each other. There was something so sweet about getting clean together, it became a sacred ritual you wanted to repeat over and over. 

Slowly but surely you got more comfortable around Spencer. There was a time when you didn't think it was possible that the two of you would cuddle every night and every morning without constantly having to fear that you’d freak out at any given moment. 

But just like that it happened. Spencer didn't have to think twice about hugging you from behind and leaving a feather-light kiss on your neck. He didn't hesitate to pull you into his arms when he woke up before you. 

He did however wake up in shock and almost jumped out of bed when one morning he realized he had sleepily pressed his erection against your thigh. Having woken up before him, you had noticed it, too. You could have easily moved away but found no reason to do so.

“I’m so sorry,” Spencer murmured as he moved away from you, his voice still sounding raspy from his slumber.

“You don’t have to apologize for that, Spencer. I know basic biology,” you snickered. “Now come back here.”

Hesitantly, he moved back towards your open arms. The warmth you radiated was too hard to resist so it took very little convincing for him to find his place inside your embrace again. 

Gentle fingertips danced along his arms, making him hum in contentment. It had always amazed you how his skin felt so particularly soft and tender in the morning. His curls hung unruly from his head and you couldn't resist intertwining your fingers with them. 

You thought back to the many times you had woken up like this. Back then when it still was normal for your hands to become curious enough to explore every curve and dip of each other’s bodies. 

It was odd to think about before. Sometimes it felt like a lifetime away, other times it felt like nothing had ever changed. It made you feel like the man who hurt you had the power to bring a new time reckoning upon you. You didn't want him to. 

It only spurred you further on to fully reclaim your body again. 

Your fingers found Spencer’s jaw to tilt his head just enough for you to be able to kiss him. His lips felt so soft as he slowly reciprocated your actions. It was sweet and innocent at first but your desire to feel more of him only grew the longer you kissed. Slightly shifting your leg you could feel his hardness again, making him whimper at the sudden pressure against it. 

As your hand found its way under his shirt, you brushed over the softness of his tummy. Shaking fingertips followed the trail of hair leading further down before changing their direction and moving upwards to feel his chest. The beating of his heart was faster than usual, almost erratic. 

With cautious motions he mirrored your eagerness and let his palm wander beneath your shirt as well. You deepened the kiss when you felt his fingers wander over your waist, leaving goosebumps on their path. Spencer became hungry, almost desperate as his tongue brushed over yours, melting into you in a way he hadn’t for too long. 

It was what you longed for too, what you had been hoping to finally be ready for. 

Then he touched your breast and it all came crashing down again. 

“Stop!” 

Healing really wasn’t linear. 

In an instant Spencer retracted his hand and leaned back to give you some space. Widened eyes looked back at him and it took both of you a second to realize what had just happened. Before he could apologize, you did. 

“I’m sorry… I really thought I was okay with that.”

For a moment Spencer closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. Then he looked at you again, a soft expression on his face. “Please don’t ever feel the need to apologize for that,” he cooed. 

Unlike other times, you were able to calm down quickly. Instead of pushing your husband further away, you still yearned for his proximity. He seemed surprised when you moved closer to him again to lay your head down on his chest. Content to still have the privilege to hold you close, he wrapped his arms around you before a relieved sigh fell from his lips. 

There was no need to leave the comfort of your shared bed just yet, so you just lay there together, basking in each other’s warmth. 

Spencer placed a gentle kiss into your hair before breathing, “I love you.” 

“I love you more.”

You tried your best to be kind to yourself in that moment. It was a learning opportunity for you. Just a few weeks ago lying close to your husband like that was unthinkable. Even if they felt like baby steps at the time, it was still progress. 

The images of recent intimate encounters flooded your mind and let a pleasant calmness spread through your body. Spencer’s kisses tasted sweet and made you feel insatiable, always longing for more. Feeling his skin pressed against yours as he held you close in the bathtub enveloped you in a safe feeling unlike anything else. 

You thought back to those rare moments when you considered taking things further lately, just like you had tried just now. There was something you had wondered about. 

“I have noticed that when we cuddle…,” you began your sentence, unsure of how to continue. “Even when we’re naked in the bathtub together, you uhm… never get aroused? That was very different before.” 

Spencer cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he let out an awkward laugh. “I try really hard not to. I think about baseball a lot.” 

His response confused you. Propping yourself up on one elbow, you raised your eyebrows at him. “You think about baseball when we’re taking baths together? You don’t even like sports.” 

Spencer just shrugged and added, “Sometimes I try to solve equations, too.”

“Please don’t do that anymore,” you pleaded as you laid back down beside him. “It makes me feel good to see you’re still interested in me.” 

“Of course I am still interested. I just really do not want to make you uncomfortable or feel pressured in any way.”

Your words were genuine when you said, “I don’t think that will happen. I actually really liked seeing you in all of your morning glory earlier.”

Your husband smiled at you. “Yeah?”

A smirk formed on your face. “It reminded me of the countless times we were both late for work because we couldn’t keep our hands to ourselves after waking up.” 

“That was fun,” Spencer chuckled. “What wasn’t fun though was the conversation I had to have with Hotch after being late four days in a row.” 

His words made you laugh, too. Then, after a few moments of comfortable silence, your husband hesitantly asked, “Can I ask you something?” 

Tilting your head to find his eyes, you responded, “Of course.”

“You don’t have to answer this but I’m wondering… Do you ever get aroused in those moments, too?” 

You were used to talking openly about intimacy with your husband, that had always been a normal part of your relationship. His question didn't feel odd and you wanted to respond to it. 

For a long time after what happened, your longing to feel his nearness wasn’t connected to any sexual desires. At times you even felt like your libido had gotten lost entirely. Recently that had changed. 

More and more you had become aware of the little spark inside you that was ignited when you were with him. It was very different from the burning flame that was there before but your desire grew each time you were together. 

“Lately, yes,” you sincerely answered. Thinking about it some more, you decided to share another detail with him. “I even started uhm… touching myself again.”

Spencer seemed a little surprised by your response. “You did? That's good to hear.” His palm brushed gently over your arm when he added, “I can imagine that's a good way to feel a connection to your body and your needs.” 

For a second you thought he might start one of his ramblings to share all his knowledge about the health benefits of masturbating. He didn't, though. 

“Yeah, it feels nice. Almost normal,” you said instead. “I obviously still have a long way to go when it comes to sex but… I finally feel like I’ll actually get there, eventually.”

“There's no rush,” he reminded you. “We have all the time in the world.” 

Your lips met his in a tender kiss. “Thank you for being so patient with me.” 

After a few more moments of enjoying each other's company, it was time to get up and get ready for the workday. That night you found yourself tangled up in bed with your husband again. 

As you breathed in his scent and felt the heat radiating off his skin, you noticed it again – the little spark inside your chest flared up and spread a tingling sensation through your body. 

Your mouth found Spencer's neck to leave a trail of kisses along it, before it moved over his jawline and found his lips at last. He hummed when you kissed him and you could feel his fingertips twitching against your waist. 

It didn't take long until you deepened the kiss, a quiet moan slipping through your lips when Spencer’s tongue found yours. 

With your body pressed against his you didn't allow any distance between the two of you. It still wasn’t enough for you, though. There was too much fabric in the way of really feeling close to him. 

Your hand moved to the hem of his shirt to grip it and impatiently push it upwards. Spencer moved with you as you pulled it over his head. When your fingers moved to the waistband of his pajama pants next, he interrupted the kiss to find your eyes. 

A smile was painted over your face when you nodded, reassuring him that you were okay. You weren’t sure yet where exactly this was going but you felt safe enough to explore your options.

“We can stop or slow down at any point,” he reminded you.

“I know.”

After kissing him again, you sat up so you could continue undressing him. Slowly you pulled down his pants, an audible breath falling from your lips when you saw he was already half-hard. 

Spencer scanned your face for any sign of discomfort but found none. What he saw instead was excitement and curiosity. It made him smile. 

He sat up and brushed his hands over the fabric of your shirt. By lifting your arms over your head you gave him the sign he needed to remove the piece of fabric. He gently motioned for you to lay back down before he made contact with your hips, carefully brushing over your pajama shorts. 

There was no hesitation to be found when you lifted your hips for him to pull them down, without ever breaking eye contact. You thought about how different this situation was from being naked with him in the bathtub. Some parts of you remained hidden from him even then. 

You wanted him to see you, even when being exposed to him like that still felt a little scary.

After he had dropped the last piece of clothing on the floor, you dared to open your thighs for him to see every part of you. A rosy shade spread over his cheeks as he dared to look at you. It reminded you of when you were with him for the very first time many years ago. 

Just like then, he breathed, “You're so beautiful.” 

You could feel how some arousal had already gathered at your center and wondered if Spencer could see the glistening. By the way his pupils dilated you had a hunch that he did. 

Then, after he had fully taken in your beauty, it was as if he was frozen in place. He used to be so confident in situations like that, knowing your body better than his own and never questioning his next move. Things were very different now and you both sensed it. 

His eyes met yours and it became obvious how unsure he was of how to proceed. 

Opening your arms, you cooed, “Come here, love.” 

He seemed relieved when he lay back down beside you again. You wanted to kiss him but he hesitated. 

After a moment, he suggested, “I think it would be helpful if you talked to me more. I need you to tell me exactly what you want to do.”

“I’m figuring this out as we go, too,” you explained. “Right now I don't know where this is going. I only know that I really want to kiss you.”

His nose brushed against yours. “I would really like that, too.”

Just a split second later you got lost in another kiss. The way your bodies were pressed against one another while your lips were connected let you briefly forget where your body ended and his began. After shifting your position, you became well aware of that again. 

Spencer was fully hard now and his erection was firmly pressed against your thigh. You moved your leg slightly, prompting him to whimper into your mouth. The hand on your waist moved down to your hip and his fingertips pressed into your skin. 

“Hey,” you mumbled against his lips. “Can we slow down for a moment?” 

His grip on your hip lightened immediately before he moved his hand back up to your waist. Spencer placed one last peck on your mouth and pulled back. “Do you want to stop?” 

You shook your head. “No, I just need a little break. To make sure it doesn't get too much.” 

The truth was that you felt really good in that moment. Excited, loved and so, so turned on. It just felt safer to take things slowly. Gently you pushed against his shoulder until he was lying on his back. You found your home inside his arms. 

Your lips grazed over his cheek as you breathed, “How are you feeling, Spencer?” 

He chuckled at your question. “You have no idea how good I’m feeling right now.” 

As you let your head rest on his shoulder, you dared to look down at his body. The extent of his desire laid on his stomach and you noticed how a bead of precum had formed at his tip. Your fingers itched to touch him, to remember how hot and heavy his cock always felt inside your palm. 

A curious hand made its way down his chest, over the side of his stomach, brushing along his thigh. For a second you hesitated but then you let your palm hover over his hardness. 

Then you felt a pit form in your stomach and decided to retract your hand again. It might have just been your nervousness but that didn't change the fact that you couldn't continue in this moment. 

Your husband had watched each of your motions intently. It was obvious that he was burning to find relief. 

Tilting your head to find his eyes, you purred, “I want you to feel good.”

“It’s okay, my love. You don’t have to,” he reminded you.

You knew that, of course. There was still something else you could do together. 

As you began kissing his neck, his throat vibrated under your lips and a moan escaped his mouth. Then, you whispered into his ear, “I want you to touch yourself.”

Spencer’s eyes widened at your request and the rosy color on his cheeks turned a shade darker. It seemed like he needed a little more encouragement, so you lay back down inside his arm and opened your legs to give yourself access. 

“Okay, I’ll start,” you teased as you let your hand wander down your own body. 

Mesmerized by the sight, his eyes followed the path of your fingers. When you parted your folds to access your most sensitive spot, Spencer hissed a curse. 

The honeyed wetness between your legs made it easy for your fingertips to move through your folds. It felt relieving to touch yourself like that. Just like Spencer you were yearning for release. 

When your husband heard your heavy sighs as you pleasured yourself, he couldn't hold back anymore. You watched as his hand found his cock, a view that let your heart pound inside your chest. 

First, he wrapped his fingers around his shaft and squeezed, prompting droplets of his arousal to run down his tip. Then, he swiped his thumb over the leaking head before he slowly began moving up and down. Your mouth hung open as you watched that sinful scene unfold in front of you. 

As Spencer accelerated the pace of his fist, sounds of pleasure filled the room. His eyebrows were scrunched up and desperation was written all over his face. 

He had never looked more beautiful.

Distracted by the mesmerizing view, the hand at your core stopped moving. Instead of continuing, you let it wander away from your body to touch Spencer’s thigh. Before you could overthink it, your hand kept moving to his center. 

A heavy breath fell from his lips as your fingertips cautiously brushed over the velvety skin of his balls, making his body jerk underneath you. Smiling to yourself, you remembered how sensitive he was. 

Spencer stopped moving his hand, waiting to see how you’d proceed. When you touched the soft curls at his base, he whimpered. It was then that you realized that you were not scared anymore and that your nervousness had turned into excitement. 

“Can I continue?”

Spencer audibly gulped before removing his hand. “Yes… please.” 

When you wrapped your fingers around his length, both of you moaned in unison. Holding him in your hand like that felt both familiar and novel at the same time. You started moving your palm and quickly remembered how exactly he liked to be touched. 

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Feels good!” 

With all the built-up tension and those months of abstinence, it only took a few moments until Spencer was getting close to reaching his point of no return. Familiar with all the telltale signs of his impending climax, you continued caressing him. Coming closer to his undoing, his cock twitched inside your palm and his entire body started quivering. 

His release began spilling over your hand and onto his stomach while he kept pulsing against your fingers. You kissed his jaw and his neck before you reached for the tissues on your nightstand to do some damage control of the mess you had created. 

Your husband’s chest was still heaving when you finished cleaning him up. Concern was written all over his face when he found your eyes.

He pulled you back into his embrace as he asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah I am. That was really fun,” you snickered. 

Spencer's hand brushed over your back as he placed a soft kiss on your mouth. “Do you want me to touch you?”

The truth was that your entire body was aching for his touch. You could feel the heat burning between your legs and were aware that your arousal had started coating the insides of your thighs. It had been a long time since you’d felt so turned on. 

And yet, the thought of him actually doing something about it made you nervous. 

“I’m not sure,” you admitted. “I would like to kiss you again, though.”

He let out a breathy laugh before finding your mouth once more. Feeling his lips on yours only blazed up the fire burning inside you. You shifted your position until you were hovering over your husband, one of his thighs pressed between yours. 

Tentatively you began rocking your hips against his leg, sighing as you realized how pleasant the friction was. 

“Is that okay?” You breathed against his lips as you kept moving. 

“More than okay,” he reassured you. “Use my body however you like.”

You sat up as you ground against his skin, feeling him tense his thigh underneath you. Taking his hands in yours, you placed them on your hips so he could help you move. Soon you had created a mess on his leg as you spread your wetness along his skin. 

With your entire entire body twitching, your motions became erratic. Looking down at Spencer, you found him staring at you with lust-filled eyes and a wicked grin painted over his face. 

As you danced along the edge of euphoria, you forgot your surroundings. It was only you and him right then. “I love you,” you whimpered and before your husband could respond, you collapsed into his arms as pleasure overcame you. You kept pressing your core against his leg as your whole body shook. 

Spencer held you firmly inside his arms as you came down from your high. He kissed your forehead and whispered, “I love you more.”

After your heart rate had come down to a normal frequency and you weren’t panting anymore, you kissed your husband. 

“How are you feeling?” He wanted to know. 

“Good. And also a little sticky,” you snickered, hinting at the mess you had created between your legs. 

“Yeah, me too,” Spencer chuckled. “How about I run us a bath so we can get cleaned up?” 

The prospect of that made your heart flutter. “That sounds wonderful.”

Author's Note: Writing this story took me two years and I am so relieved I was finally able to get it to paper. I hope reading it felt as cathartic for you as writing it was for me. Thank you for reading! I would really appreciate a reblog and a comment.

Taglist: @adoredfromafar @grumpyy-bearr @frickin-bats @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @xserenax-13 @alexxavicry @samuel-de-champagne-problems @evvy96 @reidsbookclub @lover-of-books-and-tea @sebs-oxygen @nomajdetective @kobaltdragon @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @castiels-majestic-wings

[lady-pug]

Written Between the Lines

Chapter VI - One Flesh, One Heart, One Soul

Summary: After marrying in the Faith of the Seven, you and Aemond are ready to consummate your marriage. But something has been troubling him about it and you are determined to get to the bottom of this before finally giving in to your desires.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Word count: 10k (on the dot!)

Warnings: canon-typical incest (uncle-niece); smut, so minors DNI; oral sex (female receiving); p in v sex; hand job; fingering; switch!Aemond (leaning more towards sub!Aemond); jealousy; referenced past SA (Aemond talks about the time Aegon took him to the Street of Silk) and it's consequences to oneself (please please read carefully)

Notes: Hello everyone! You thought this story was over, didn’t you? Well, it is not. I just took a really long time writing this chapter. Because of this, the first thing I’d like to do is apologize. I’m sorry for taking so long, I got caught up in some college work and this huge event I help organize, and it took me quite a while to finish that (and not only that, as you can see by the word count, this chapter is one chonky boi, for the more I wrote the more I wanted to write and I just couldn’t stop.) Anyway, here it is and I’m sorry once again.

TW: Please please read the warnings, this one does talk about SA and it’s repercussions and consequences to oneself, (it doesn’t happen during the story, it’s only mentions of past events). If this is something you are uncomfortable with feel free to skip this one, put yourself and your own comfort first, only read it if it doesn’t make you uncomfortable. Stay safe!

This story will have more parts to it, but like I said, I’ve been having a lot of work to do (a shame I can’t just write all day, but meh, c'est la vie) so I won’t be able to update weekly like with the previous chapters and updates will take a little while longer.

Also, I used an online translator (I don’t know if it’s grammatically correct, I’ll just roll with it, if someone spots any mistakes please let me know and I’ll correct it right away), translations are in the end notes.

I am really proud of how this one turned out, really, I’d even dare say (throwing modesty out the window entirely) it’s one of my favorite works of mine so far. So I really hope you enjoy this one as much as I did! Thank you so so much for reading!

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Your feet were killing you. There was no other way to describe it. You yearned to finally retire to your marital chambers and take off these dreaded shoes, but alas you had to entertain the guests for a little while longer at least.

“What troubles you, ābrazȳrys?” your husband asked from beside you.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with, valzȳrys.” you smiled softly at him, your heart clenching at his concern.

Husband.

After four whole moons you could finally call Aemond your husband. Twice over in fact. Not only were you married in the Faith of the Seven, as per his mother’s and grandsire’s wishes, but Daemon and your mother had organized a ceremony for you to be wed in the ways of Old Valyria (after which your step-father had jested, asking if you were to consummate the marriage already or wait until after the second ceremony at the sept, earning a slap on the shoulder from Rhaenyra and a chuckle from Laenor. Aemond had in turn blushed profusely, and you thought the pink hue that dusted his cheeks suited him, wanting to see it more often).

Laenor had stayed with you in your chambers, running his fingers through your hair until you fell asleep. He had woken you by dawn, reluctantly saying he had to go, for Daemon had arranged a ship to take him back, but he needed to leave as early as possible as to not risk being seen by anyone. You said your goodbyes with tears rolling down your cheeks, for you felt this was the last time you’d ever see him again, though he did tell you to pay him a visit in Qarth should you ever find your way to Essos before disappearing through the secret tunnels of Maegor’s Holdfast.

You barely managed to fall back asleep after that, too eager to start the day already. Both Rhaenyra and Alicent insisted on helping you get ready, you and your mother sharing complicit smiles every time your good mother referred to her son as your ‘soon to be’ husband. The ceremony itself went by without a hitch, with Aemond placing his cloak, in a mixture of both green and black colors, over your shoulders and kissing you tenderly afterwards.

The feast was grand, with almost every major house having been invited. You had saved your first dance for Aemond, but quickly switched partners and danced with Helaena, then with Baela, Jace, Luke and even with Aegon, though the last one was short lived for Aemond, not at all enjoying the sight of his brother’s grubby hands all over you, not so gently pushed him aside and resumed as your partner once more. You felt happy, happier than you had been in several years. Your family, or most of it, was reunited again, celebrating love and not fighting a senseless war like you feared they would.

And now, even though you were having a splendid time, you were counting the minutes until you could finally retire and spend some time alone with your husband. 

“I cannot believe you are going to forego the bedding.” Aegon groaned from next to you “It is tradition.” to which you had to hold Aemond back from reaching across from you and strangling his brother as the latter cackled.

In the moons that followed your betrothal you had noticed that, whenever someone who wasn’t you made any reference to anything involving your marital bed or your marital duties, Aemond would tense up. Anyone else would think the way his shoulders straightened was a demonstration of pride, a man who couldn’t wait to bed his future wife, but you had come to know him better than that. While you had no doubt he was eager to lay with you, you knew his stiffness stemmed from somewhere else, somewhere he had yet to disclose. Where most saw him preening with pride you noticed him shrinking back in on himself.

So you requested, more, begged your mother to forbid the bedding ceremony, much to Aegon’s dismay, claiming you weren’t comfortable with the situation and you were the one who wanted privacy. It wasn’t technically a lie, for you truly wanted to share this moment with your husband only, but you wanted to get to the bottom of the issue first. She was quick to agree, and anyone who complained that it entailed breaking tradition got a scorn filled glare from her and a reminder that, as Queen, her word was final. The only condition, set by some of the men in the Small Council, was that you deliver the linens to one of the maesters in the morrow as proof of your virtue.

Aemond must have noticed you slumping in your chair, tiredness seeping into your bones from hours upon hours of celebration, for he stood from his seat and extended a hand to you.

“Shall we retire for the evening, my love?”

My love. 

The moniker set your cheeks aflame as you smiled softly at him, glancing briefly at your mother, seeking her permission to be excused. She nodded softly, mentioning something about retiring as well to check on Visenya. You accepted his hand and both of you left the great hall amidst praises and cheers from the guests. 

As you approached his, now yours as well, chambers you could see him getting progressively more fidgety. If it was due to nerves or anticipation you could not tell. He opened the door for you, allowing you to step inside and take in the room, the things you had requested the servants to move from your previous quarters already in place.  

“I have something for you.” he spoke hurriedly, almost as soon as the door was closed “A wedding gift, if you will.”

“What is it?” you watched him cross the space towards a chest nestled against the wall, rummaging inside. When he turned back to you in his hands laid a sheathed sword, a large sapphire resting on the top of the handle, almost where it met the blade, catching your eye.

“I had a little help from my uncle to get the measurements correct for you.” he extended the sword to you which you took from him almost reverently, running your fingers delicately over the intricate golden designs of the sheath.

Your eyes were filled with wonder as you pulled the blade out of the sheath, noticing how smooth and shiny the metal was. There was something different about the steel, it was more vibrant than what you were used to seeing, softer, yet somehow almost… sharper.

Aemond must have seen your questioning gaze aimed at the sword for he smiled, an almost proud smirk adorning his features as he explained.

“Valyrian steel.” you whipped your head to stare at him, astonished “Jewelry from all over the realm made of valyrian steel was melted and added to the steel alloy.”

This was a lot. It was such a thoughtful gift, made just for you by your husband that it almost brought tears to your eyes.

“I know it is not the same as an actual valyrian steel sword, like Dark Sister, but those are even harder to come by.” he started rambling, taking your silence as a sign you didn’t enjoy the gift “And it is not made with the same technique, as it was lost after the Doom-”

“It is perfect.” you cut him off, gazing at him with eyes full of emotion “It is absolutely perfect, valzȳrys, thank you. How did you manage to find the jewelry?”

“I have my ways.” he shrugged, as if unbothered.

He hummed in contentment, his face softening as he took a step closer to you.

“I also had a belt made just for you.” he stepped even closer, his gaze turning slightly darker, as if he was a predator stalking its prey “So you can wear your sword around court. All day, every day.” his finger stroked the sapphire on the handle as his lips grazed your ear “I want all to know how fierce of a woman my lady wife is.”

He closed the gap between your mouths, claiming your lips in a soft yet passionate kiss. It was over all too soon as he pulled away from you, but thankfully he didn’t go far. He took the sword from your hands, resheathing it and placing the gift on a nearby table, before kissing you again.

His arms circled around your waist and clung to your back as he kissed you hungrily, like if he didn’t get a taste of your lips he would die of starvation. His kisses left you burning from the inside, wishing, craving more.

Yet, as you placed your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself you noticed how tense he was. You couldn’t help but take in the way his hands trembled as he started unlacing the back of your gown. 

“Aemond.” you tried pulling away, to look at him properly, but he chased after you, not wanting to be parted from your lips. He only stopped when you gently grabbed his cheeks and had to physically pry himself from you “Husband, I think we ought to talk.”

He recoiled and was out of your arms and across the room in an instant, moving so fast you barely had any time to react.

“Do you not wish to consummate our marriage?” he looked so heartbreakingly hurt for only a moment but then he steeled himself and you could sense the mask of indifference he often wore around court starting to slip back on.

“No, my love, of course not.” you rushed to his side, once again cupping his jaw urging him to look at you “I am just worried for you, is all.”

“Why should you be worried about me, ābrazȳrys?” he spoke, his tone clipped and cold, more so than it had been in a really long time. If he noticed how much his question offended you he didn’t let it show.

“Why should I not worry about you, husband?” you emphasized the last word, taking a long deep breath to steady yourself and let go of your exasperation “I just wish to know why the thought of consummating our marriage worries you so.”

It was Aemond’s turn to stare at you in confusion.

“I believe I have made it quite clear the depths of my desire for you.”

“I know, I know. And I desire you greatly as well, never doubt that even for a moment.” you sighed, worried he’d shut you out or push you away if you prodded any further, but decided to push forward regardless “It is just that, in the past few moons, whenever anyone else mentioned or even hinted at our marital duties to one another you became tense, withdrawn even.”

He looked taken aback at your words, as if he hadn’t even realized he was doing such a thing in the first place.

“I just wish to understand what ails you, my love.”

My love.

Those two words once again seemed to be what chirped at his resolve. He averted his eye, almost in shame, and turned his back to you. For a moment you feared he was going to walk out the door and leave your shared chambers altogether but he did no such thing. Instead he walked to the bed and sat down on the edge. You wondered if you should approach him or give him space, worried he’d flinch from your touch like a frightened animal, but even if he didn’t meet your gaze his body was turned towards you, open and inviting. So you took slow and deliberate steps towards him, taking your place besides him.

He stayed silent for a moment, clenching his fists as they rested on his thighs. You took one of his hands in yours, intertwining your fingers and giving it a gentle squeeze in hopes of calming his nerves. You raised your free hand towards the side of his face but stopped before you could touch him.

“May I?” you asked, and you didn’t need to say the words for him to know what you meant. Only after he nodded almost imperceptibly did you remove his eyepatch, revealing the alluring sapphire that matched the one placed on the gift he had given you. 

“Aemond.” he glanced at you, something akin to guilt clear upon his features “Remember what we told each other earlier? I am yours and you are mine. Whatever it is, your burdens are now mine to carry as well.”

You placed your hand on his cheek, caressing the edge of his scarred flesh. 

“Let me help you relieve some of that burden, please.” you practically whispered, almost begging.

For a moment he said nothing. Then he turned his head slightly, placing a kiss upon your palm.

“I have something I need to tell you.” he spoke, fear clinging to his voice.

“What is it?”

A thousand thoughts raced through your mind, wondering what could possibly be afflicting him so badly as to react like this, but nothing came to mind. So you settled on waiting for him to speak, not wanting to rush to conclusions.

“I have laid with a woman before.”

That… is not what you were expecting.

“When?” you did not know what else to say, so you settled for asking that.

“Years ago.” he shook his head, as if trying to forget “You were in Dragonstone at the time.”

You didn’t know how to react to that. You didn’t wish to dismiss his feelings, but you couldn’t seem to understand what the big deal was.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” he pulled back, almost offended 

“Yeah.” you shrugged “I fail to see what the problem is.”

“How could you say that?” he stood up, pacing back and forth in front of you in frustration.

“We were not yet involved with one another, so you were not technically bound to anyone.”

“You waited around for me-”

“I did not remain a maiden specifically for you.” you reminded him “If I were a man I, too, would probably have indulged in the pleasures of the flesh.”

“Still. I should not have sullied myself like that, it was unbecoming of someone of my position and a disrespect to you, to my future wife.”

You wanted to argue further, to make him see reason, but the disproportionate reaction to something that, to you, seemed so trivial clued you in that his troubles ran deeper than you first thought. So you stopped talking, choosing to just annalyse his mannerisms. His movements were erratic, his fingers clawing at its nail beds almost to the point of breaking the skin, a habit inherited from his mother which he almost never indulged in.

He halted when he felt your hand wrapping around his arm, the leather of the doublet cold against your skin.

“You do not have to explain yourself to me. But I feel like there is something you are not telling me.” you grabbed both of his hands in your own, kissing his knuckles tenderly “I completely understand if you do not wish to share it. We can just forget this conversation ever happened and I shall not press any further, but, husband, please, I only wish to help ease your troubles.”

Aemond paused, exhaling shakily, before averting his eyes once more. Shame and guilt emanated from him in waves as he sat back down on top of the linens. You waited for his next move, smiling softly when his arms circled around your waist and brought you closer to him, standing between his parted legs.

“On my thirteenth name day,” he shuddered softly when he felt your fingers running through his scalp, his cheek resting in your stomach as he spoke “Aegon took me to the Street of Silk, as his gift to me. I did not know where we were going, ‘a surprise’ he said.”

It was your turn to shudder, your stomach churning as you felt where his tale was headed.

“He said… he said it was time for me to become a man. To become as well versed as he was, ‘a scholar in the ways of life’. I did not understand what he meant at first, but it was clear to me soon enough.”

He turned his head, hiding his face in your stomach as his hold on you tightened. The scene reminded you so much of the last time you saw him before your years-long distance, on that fateful night on Driftmark. Looking at him now you realized that, deep down, he was still that scared little boy, hiding behind the image of the fierce, impassive warrior he had created for himself over the years. 

“Aemond, ñuha jorrāelagon,” you whispered “I get it. You do not need to continue if you wish to stop.”

He shook his head in response, desperate to get it all out now that he had already started. You supposed this was the first time he was speaking these words out loud, never having dared to utter it to a single soul before. So you tried to soothe him as best as you could, pulling the band that held his hair up in its usual half updo and letting it down, giving you more room to run your fingers through his locks, untangling the silver strands. This seemed to give him enough strength to continue, shifting his head so only his forehead was in contact with you and his words were directed to the ground below him, as if he couldn’t dare to look up at you. 

“He arranged for a… a w-whore” he spit the word out like it was poison on his tongue “to take care of me in exchange for a bag of gold, and when the woman tried to give him back the excess amount, claiming it was too much, he told her to keep it. ‘For your trouble’ he told her.”

Your heart twisted painfully in your chest at his words. You were never too fond of Aegon, especially for the way he treated both Aemond and Helaena, but this… this was vile even for him.

“He wanted to watch.” he propped his chin on your stomach, peering up at you with a round, frightened eye that was steadily brimming with tears “I did not want him to watch. The madam tried to send him away, but he insisted, saying that he was the prince and he commanded it. Thankfully he got distracted by some other woman there and left.”

“A-and how did-” you swallowed thickly, trying to stay strong for him even though your own heart shattered for the boy he once was, the boy who shaped the man he was now “how did that make you feel?” 

He shook his head once more, his gaze becoming distant, as if he was now looking through you rather than at you.

“I do not remember much.” he whispered “I just remember the stench. The whole place stunk. It reeked of sweat and wine and something… something so sickeningly sweet it was foul. Once I left I could still feel the smell clinging to me.”

One lone tear rolled down his cheek, followed by another, and then another. You cupped his cheek, your thumb catching the tears that refused to stop as he hiccuped.

“I tried washing it off. Scrubbed at my skin until it was raw and tender, but it would not go away.” his voice started to get tight “After a few days and several baths later it was still there, still lingering. I tried asking mother and even Helaena if they could feel it in me but they lied. They lied and said I smelled fine but I could feel it.” he choked back on a sob “I could feel it in me still, like it had seeped into my very bones. Sometimes when I think too hard about that night I can still feel it in my skin, like it never even left.”

His arms brought you even closer to him, almost to the point of pain, as if he was trying to completely merge his very being into you.

“I know I shouldn’t have.” his gaze focused on you once more, eye pleading for you, his tone bordering on desperation “Forgive me, please, mandianna! I shouldn’t have gone there in the first place, I shouldn’t have-”

“Qȳbor, stop.” you whispered softly, not wanting to aggravate him when he was this vulnerable “You have nothing to apologize for. You were only a child.”

“Still, I should have known better than-” he started shaking his head again, the look in his eye almost crazed, like he wanted so desperately for you to see him the way he saw himself.

“Aemond.” you spoke firmly, gripping his chin to force him to look at you “You were a child.”

A moment of silence passed, only his heavy breathing to be heard. Then something dawned on him, for he pressed his face against your stomach once more and started sobbing uncontrollably. His shoulders shook with the intensity of his wails, your arms coming around his frame to hold him against you, one hand gripping the back of his head and the other stroking his back. He cried and cried and cried. It seemed like he finally understood, after all these years, what truly happened that night. He realized his own brother sold his innocence, something that was his to freely give to whomever he chose, for some coin. His brother and, by extension, the madam forcefully took from him something that was inherently his, that should have remained his, something he would never get back and would never not miss. It was his, it should have been him to choose what to do with it, and they took it from him.

His loathing shifted then. What was once aimed at himself, the hatred he felt for the stench that never truly went away, shifted in turn to Aegon. He slowly, very slowly, started to forgive that thirteen year old boy, the one that never left either, for the things that happened to him that night. He now realized you could not forgive him for what he had done, for the one whose forgiveness he really needed was himself. It would take him a long time, he knew, to accept his own absolution, and perhaps he never would, not fully anyway, but he could certainly try.

Once he calmed down enough, his sobs turning to mere sniffles, he raised his head to glance at you once more. You were smiling softly at him, eyes so filled with love and compassion he felt almost undeserving of it. Your fingers in his hair helped to ground him, to bring him back to this moment in your arms. Realizing what had just transpired he tried to turn his head away in embarrassment but you wouldn’t let him.

“I am glad I have earned your trust enough for you to share this with me.” you spoke with reverence, earning a shy smile in return.

He then dried the remaining tears from his face and tried to stand up, but you were quicker, pressing onto his shoulders so he would remain seated.

“We do not have to do anything tonight.” you brushed a strand of hair away from his face and tucked it behind his ear “I can just prick a finger and smear some blood on the linens.”

“But I want to.” he almost whined, not wishing for you to part from him “I want to do this with you. With you I do not feel that stench, I-” he took a steadying breath before whispering “I just feel you.” 

In that very moment you felt like your heart would burst from how much love you held for this man. 

“Okay.”

He smiled brightly then, nuzzling his nose against you.

“But…” you pulled back from him, commanding his full attention “we will do only what you wish, nothing more. Whatever you want, tell me and it is yours. And if you wish to stop, at any moment, you tell me, alright?”

“Alright.” he nodded, quite enthusiastic.

“You have to promise me you will tell me if you want to stop.” you reiterated “Promise me.”

He stared up at you with so much adoration you felt like the Mother brought to land.

“I promise.”

You smiled, satisfied that he would follow through should he need to.

“Well, how do you want to start then?”

His gaze turned to one of confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we cannot just jump right into it.” you jested.

“We can’t?” he looked so preoccupied at that, and your heart broke all over again. By the Gods, what had they done to this boy in that brothel?

You crouched down so your face was level with his, your noses almost touching as you whispered into his lips.

“Tell me what you want, valzȳrys.”

Aemond was at a loss for words, a world of endless possibilities presented itself to him and he didn’t know where to begin. But he supposed there was one thing he knew could be a good place to start.

“Can you kiss me?” he pleaded.

You sat down next to him on the bed, your body turned towards him, your knees bumping against his. 

“You want me to kiss you?” you spoke softly, deciding to tease him for a bit by pulling one of his hands to your lips and kissing his knuckles “Is this where you want me to kiss you?”

“No,” he shook his head “not there.”

You hummed as if confused and let your lips graze his cheek.

“What about here?”

“No.”

Your lips traveled lower, placing a gentle kiss against his jaw.

“Here?” to which he shook his head.

Going lower, your lips traced the column of his throat, earning a soft gasp from him.

“N-not there either.” he whimpered as your teeth nipped against his skin gently.

“Then where do you want me to kiss you?” you pulled back, staring at his eye “I need you to tell me.”

His cheeks lit up bright pink, embarrassment coursing through him at the thought of speaking his thoughts out loud. But he had come to learn that if there was one person in his life that he could trust, that person was you.

“On the lips.” 

You relented then, chasing his lips with your own. They were soft, only a trace of salt left behind by his tears previously shed. You kissed him gently, hands cupping his jaw as his own settled on your waist. It was tender, almost chaste, and you tried pouring all the love you felt for him into the kiss.

“I like it when you kiss me.” he whispered when you pulled back “No one else has ever done that for me.”

It was your turn to look confused, staring at him wide eyed.

“You have never been kissed before?” you questioned “By anyone other than me?”

He shook his head. That explained why he seemed so inexperienced the first few times around, because he truly was inexperienced.

“Not even…?” you didn’t want to say it, but he understood what you meant.

“No.” he denied again “It felt too intimate.”

More intimate than sex? you thought.

“After that night in the tub, before Driftmark,” you recalled that night, the night you shared your very first kiss. It was a peck more than anything, a childish attempt mostly, but it had meant the world to you “whenever I thought about doing it with someone else it did not feel right. Yours were the only lips I ever wanted to taste.”

You couldn’t help yourself, surging forward to capture his lips with your own in a heated kiss. The quiet whimper that escaped his mouth only spurred you on, seeking his touch. Your tongue eagerly tangled with his, tasting the sweet Dornish Red he had been sipping on before and something that was so inherently him. 

He pulled back then, breathing heavily against your lips, a sheen line of saliva connecting both your mouths before dissipating.

“What about you?” he questioned, still trying to regain his breath.

“What about me?”

“Have you ever done this before?” he asked, averting his gaze shyly “Before me, I mean? You are quite good at it, I believe.”

“Well, I have had some practice.” it was your turn to feel embarrassed, quickly glancing away from him “For a while Jace and I believed mother would eventually marry us to one another after we left for Dragonstone. We decided to get used to each other before the inevitable happened.”

Something twisted painfully in Aemond’s chest at the thought of you, a younger you, locking lips with his damned nephew. It was almost primal, this rage he felt. You were his and his alone. You have always been his from the very moment you had come into this world, and you’d continue to be his until the Stranger came to collect your soul.  

“It was gross, really. Happened only a handful of times before we gave up trying to pretend we were not disgusted by the idea.”

Your words did little to quell his unsettling feelings. Was this what jealousy felt like? Not envy, actual jealousy? Envy was something he was familiar with, for he had felt it pretty much all his life. He envied Aegon the most, but he also envied Rhaenyra a lot as well, your brothers and hells, even Helaena sometimes even though he loathed it. This was different. 

“And I may or may not have gotten a bit too tipsy while staying on Winterfell during my travels and shared a kiss or two with the Warden of the North.”

“Cregan Stark?” he scoffed. While the thought of you swapping spit with a boresome and self-righteous northerner was a little less rage inducing in comparison to Jacaerys, that simmering jealousy was still present.

That all dissipated though at the feeling of your fingers gently brushing his hair away from his face, tucking it behind his ear.

“But none of them hold a candle to you.” his heart skipped a beat at your words, your hand reaching to do the same to the other side of his hair “Especially when you blush so prettily.” 

Heat spread all over his face, as he stammered.

“I-I do no such thing!” he tried sounding offended, but all he did was make you giggle, as he proved your words right.

“Yes, you do.” you hooked a finger under his chin, forcing him to keep his gaze on you “You turn all red at a mere brush of my fingers, at the slightest of compliments. Like a maiden.” 

He felt the warmth spreading to the tip of his ears, the back of his neck and even down his chest.

“How red do you think you would blush if I touched you some more, hm?” 

Your fingers gently traced down his throat, feeling when he gulped harshly. 

“Would you like that, husband?” you trailed down his soft skin, reaching the spot where his collarbone met the leather coat he still wore “For me to touch you?”

He nodded, somewhat shyly, but very much eager for you to make due on your word.

“Can I take this off?” you tugged at his doublet, almost startling at the speed at which he stood up and took it off for you. The linen chemise he wore underneath it quickly followed and he was left shirtless in front of you. You’d never get tired of looking at him, bare or otherwise. He was beautiful, all valyrian and almost none of the Hightower blood from his mother. You believed if the god Balerion ever had a physical body it would definitely look like Aemond.

You stood up as well, facing him as your fingers traced his features. You started by tracing his nose, following the curve of it down to his mouth, his lips twitching upon your touch as he puckered them, placing a soft kiss on the pads of your fingers. You traced along the column of his throat, your fingers tangling softly on the strands at the nape of his neck and tugging gently, earning a whimper from him. Then you kept going, fingers sliding against the planes of his chest and tracing the taunt lines of muscle in his abdomen. As you reached the hem of his breeches you snaked your arm around his slim waist, sprawling your hand against the slope of his lower back and pushing him towards you. The little ‘hmph’ sound that escaped him at the impact of your bodies was quickly drowned by your lips as they claimed his own in another fierce kiss.

Your fingers started their exploration all over again, starting once more at the back of his neck and slowly following down the length of his spine, feeling each and every ridge and bump under his skin, as he shuddered with every brush of your digits.

“P-Please,” Aemond mumbled as you nipped at his bottom lip “ābrazȳrys, please.”

“Please what?” you kissed his jaw, then down his neck, then at the juncture where his neck met his shoulder.

“Please, touch me.”

“I am touching you, valzȳrys.” you smirked against him, your teeth nibbling gently on his skin.

“J-just please…” he moaned softly as your tongue soothed the spot you had bitten “touch me, please.”

You decided to have mercy on him, moving your hand to the front of his trousers, stopping short at the laces.

“May I?” he nodded his head desperately.

Untying his breeches you let them slide down his body, pooling at his feet, as he finally revealed himself to you. He was already hard, almost painfully so, weeping at the tip and awaiting your touch.

And then… you hesitated, unsure how to proceed. While you felt satisfaction at teasing him, you were the maiden in this situation. No amount of hushed, almost shameful lessons from your septa, no amount of embarrassing tips and advice from your mother could prepare you for the actual thing. You may have practiced your kissing skills with Jace and, briefly, with Cregan, but you had never gone any further, knowing what the realm regretfully thought of women of your station indulging before being wed and refusing to let your virtue be made a spectacle of. So while you may have talked a big game before, as if you held all the knowledge, it was all purely theoretical. 

Aemond, sensing your apprehension, searched your gaze with his.

“What is it?” he asked, voice laced with quiet concern.

“Nothing much.” you chuckled, although it sounded mirthless to your ears, conveying your embarrassment “I am merely assessing the best way to approach the situation at hand.”

While you had chosen not to be direct about your troubles, opting instead to jest about it, he had understood you clearly, for you had become so intune with one another the past few moons. With deliberate movements he delicately held your wrist, never breaking eye contact, as he brought your hand over to him slowly, very slowly, giving you ample opportunity to stop him if you wished. But you didn’t want to. You let him guide you, his large hand settling over yours as you gathered some of the pearlescent wetness dripping from his tip in your palm before guiding you to encircle his cock, his fingers around yours as he shuddered at the first contact of your skin against his.

He was hot and heavy in your hand as he directed your movements with precision, stroking his cock up and down, pumping him, slowing or speeding up your motions to his liking. Slowly but surely you started to take control, following his lead and mimicking his actions. He groaned encouragingly, letting go of your fingers, his hands settling on your waist as you continued to stroke him up and down and up and down, speeding up or slowing down, gathering some more wetness under your thumb and stroking his cock with it. His groans and grunts emboldened you, trying to gauge his reactions. 

And then you tightened your hold on him, squeezing his cock just a bit tighter under your grip, and he almost tumbled to the ground, his knees nearly buckling in reaction. His own grip on you grew tighter, as if supporting his weight on you, head tilted forward and face hiding in the crook of your neck as he moaned.  

He was loud.

Even muffled against your skin, his moans and whines resonated throughout the bedchambers as you continued your ministrations, increasing in pitch with each tilt or flick of your wrist, with each squeeze and stroke of your hand. You were tugging him faster now, your grip firm and deliberate as his cock twitched in your hold and his whole body trembled against you.

“Wait.” he mumbled, his voice strained “P-please, just wait.”

You ripped yourself away from him then, a sudden surge of guilt blooming in your chest.

“Forgive me.” you glanced at him, averting your gaze in shame as you wondered if you had made him too uncomfortable “I got carried away. I apologize.”

“You misunderstand me, wife.” he tried to slow his erratic breathing “I do not wish for you to stop. But if you continued as you were I would surely spill my seed against your hand. We should not let any of my spend go to waste on a night as important as this one.”

What?

Your confusion must have been reflected on your features for he continued his explanation, his voice carrying a teasing tone to it.

“It is expected of us to produce an heir tonight. We wouldn’t want to fail our duties now, would we?” he gripped your chin, placing a chaste kiss against your lips “The first time I spill my seed I want it to be inside your cunt.”

Had it been anyone else, had you been married to anyone else, you would have assumed they meant it as a command, solely means to an end, as producing heirs was indeed part of your duty. But this, you noticed in his eye, was his way of showcasing his true intentions without actually saying it, hiding behind some mere jesting: he wanted this. He wanted to give you an heir, for his seed to take root in your womb and for you to carry his child. The thought elicited warmth in your chest, feeling giddy at the idea.

“Can I touch you now?” he asked, his plea bordering on desperation as he gave a quick peck to your lips.

You pulled back then, staring deeply at him.

“Do you believe you deserve to touch me?” you whispered against his lips.

He faltered then, unsure what you wanted from him. A shake of his head had you scoffing softly.

“Try again.” you nuzzled your nose against his, trying to coax him out of his self made shell “Do you deserve this?”

The glint he noticed in your eyes gave away what you wanted from him, so he nodded, his movement curt and shaky.

“I want to hear you say it.” your voice made it sound like a request, but he knew it was anything but.

“Yes.” he whispered back, his breath fanning your lips.

“Yes what?”

“I deserve it.” as the words left his lips, for the first time in a long time, he started to actually believe them.

You nodded, satisfied with him.

“Yes, you do.” you cooed, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging “You do deserve this.”

As your lips settled on his jaw, he caught onto every hidden meaning of your words, affection swarming in his chest.

You deserve to be loved.

He claimed your lips in a soft kiss once more, his fingers resuming their task of untying the laces in your beautiful wedding gown, letting it slip down your arms and pool in a heap on the floor. He made quick work of your smallclothes as well, leaving you bare before him. He hurriedly stepped out of his discarded breeches, carefully helping out of your dress and closer towards the bed. 

Aemond’s fingers danced across your skin, caressing you with such reverence it almost brought tears to your eyes again. His fingers crawled down your spine, sliding between your shoulder blades, like you had done for him, his lips trailing down your neck with soft kisses. Goosebumps formed on your skin as his fingers traced your ribcage, his touch so close yet not close enough to your breasts. He nipped at your collarbone, his hand finally closing around one of your breasts, gentle, like he was weighing it in his hand, his lips following down and nibbling at the skin of the other breast. A loud, strangled whine left escaped you as he pinched your nipple, rolling the bud between two fingers, growing louder as his lips closed around the other nipple. 

You could feel the walls of your cunt pulsing as his tongue worked your breasts, your heartbeat increasing as he hollowed his cheeks and sucked. The noise that left your lips seemed to spur him on even further, as he sucked with more intensity and he groped your other breast more firmly, his entire hand surrounding the skin.

His fingers trailed even further down, passing your navel and slipping between your folds. His touch was featherlight against your dripping cunt, gathering some wetness and circling your entrance, without ever dipping inside

“P-please, husband.” you whined, your back arching in pleasure at his teasing, pushing your breast even more into his face.

He relented then, pushing his finger inside your cunt, slipping in easily with how soaked you already were. His moan echoed your own as your walls fluttered around his digit. He let you get used to the intrusion for a moment before starting to move his finger inside you, his movements tentative as he explored your walls, almost like he was searching for something, for what you didn’t know.

Though you’d never admit this to anyone, you were acutely aware of his fingers, having paid close attention to them when you watched him train. They were long and slender as they gripped the handle of his sword, but at the same time they were strong and thick and, as he added a second one, you could feel how perfectly well he filled you. As he explored your cunt, you could feel every movement of his fingers brushing against your walls, that familiar coil of pleasure slowly but steadily building in your core. It only intensified as the heel of his hand pressed against your clit as he tried to reach even further inside you, the molten heat pooling in your core and starting to spread through your whole body, so much so you barely noticed when his mouth had moved to your other breast. 

Then his fingertips brushed against one spot inside your cunt that almost made you see stars, your legs wobbling as pleasure shot up your spine and assaulted all your senses. You could feel him smirk against your skin as you moaned loudly, brushing against the same spot again as you mewled and whined, trying to move away from him but the arm snaked around your back prevented you from doing so. His fingers seemed to reach places inside you didn’t know existed as he clawed and scissored inside your cunt, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. It was almost too much and barely enough at the same time; you wanted him like you had never wanted anything else in your entire life.

He let go of your nipple with a wet smack of his lips, his mouth settling on that spot behind your ear and pressing soft kisses against your skin. It was such a contrast from the way his fingers were working inside your cunt, his words gentle and sweet, mumbling caring words in high valyrian as he mouthed and nibbled on your skin, but the pleasure was clouding your thoughts, the words getting fogged up in your mind. But something caught your attention, and as you tuned into the words, they were your undoing.

“Avy jorrāelan, ñuha zaldrītsos.” he whispered against the shell of your ear, laying a soft kiss on the skin “Va moriot emagon se va moriot kessa.”

With a stutter of your heart the coil in your core snapped, hot, molten pleasure washing over you and spreading throughout your whole body, tingling with dozens of goosebumps that formed on your skin. It left you breathless, sluggish and warm as you tried to regain your bearings.

“Aem…-” you tried calling out to him, voice hoarse from the intensity of your moans, but you couldn’t seem to find your voice just yet. 

But he heard you. And something in him snapped.

In an instant you were lying on your back against the soft linens, barely having time to react as he pushed you down on the bed and crawled on top of you. His lips claimed yours in a hungry, almost desperate kiss, you were sure your mouth would be sporting bruises on the morrow such was its intensity. He settled in between your spread thighs, his hard length nestling between your folds as he nipped on your jaw, kissing a line down your neck.

“Say it again, please.” he begged “Say my name again.”

“A-Aemond?”

“No, no, not that.” he admonished softly, kissing your mouth once again.

You searched your mind for what he could possibly be referring to. That was his name, was it not? What you’d always referred to him as, if you weren’t calling him by his familial ties to you, in common tongue or high valyrian alike?

Except it wasn’t.

It had been years, well over a decade even since you referred to him as something else entirely. Barely a toddler, Jace only a babe and Luke still in your mother’s womb, you followed Aemond around the Keep like a lost puppy all day, for he seemed to be the only one willing to entertain you. It was only natural then for you to worship the ground he walked on, basking in his attention for as long as he was willing to give it to you. But as such a young child you couldn’t properly speak such a complicated name in conversation, settling on calling him for a shortened sobriquet. You didn’t think much of it, and he never opposed such a nickname, until Aegon caught you calling him by the moniker and instantly started teasing the both of you relentlessly because of it. It earned him a swift kick to the shin and three days without speaking to either of them, but as it often is with small children, your grudge was quickly forgotten, going back to trailing after Aemond. However, to save both him and yourself from further humiliation, you settled for referring to him only as ‘uncle’ until you could utter his full name, never again daring to use the nickname.

It was so meaningless to you, back then. And you were both so young, he couldn’t possibly remember that, could he? 

“Aem?” you spoke tentatively, not sure if this is what he wished for.

The loud whine that escaped his lips, breathed against your cheek, and the way his cock twitched were all the answer you needed. 

“Please, little niece, byka mandianna,” he rasped, desperation dripping from his tone as he started gently rocking his hips against yours “Please say that again.”

“Aem…” you said with more confidence, breaking off into a moan at the end as the head of his cock brushed against your clit.

He shifted his body on top of you, lining his cock up with your entrance.

“Again, please.” 

“A-Aem?” even though you wanted this, truly and wholeheartedly, now that you were about to consummate your marriage for real you were suddenly filled with a twinge of apprehension. While you were certain Aemond wasn’t like most men, you had heard stories from women at court about how their husbands treated them in the throes of passion.

Sensing your quiet distress, Aemond lifted his head to stare at you, sapphire eye glinting under the soft glow of the candles and silver strands cascading around you.

“We can stop if you wish.” he spoke quietly.

“No, no please, I want to. I am just…”

Even if you couldn’t quite explain it he seemed to understand, for he placed a soft kiss on your lips.

“I promise to be gentle.”

In his eye you saw nothing but truth, the sincerity of his words easing your nerves.

“I trust you.”

He nodded and started ever so slowly pushing inside you, inch by inch, pulling back and thrusting inside again, a little deeper than before. It was a lot for the both of you, your combined moans echoing through the chambers; even though he wanted to look upon your eyes as you shared this moment he couldn’t, his head falling against your shoulder as he hid his face in the crook of your neck. His cock was met with little resistance, your cunt still soaked. The pain you were previously expecting came in the form of an acute pinch as your cunt stretched to accommodate him, your breath hitching and a whimper passing through your lips. Aemond shushed and cooed against your ear, little whispers of ‘I’ve got you’ spoken against your ear as he stalled his movements, only resuming them when he felt you relax in his arms once more.

When he finally settled, his hips flush against yours and his cock inside your cunt to the hilt, you released your breath, not even realizing you had been holding it. You felt like you were burning from within where your bodies were connected, yet it was a comforting kind of heat, not at all like dragonfire. At least not yet. You could feel every ridge of his cock, every twitch that made the walls of your cunt clench in response. It was so intimate, you had never been closer to a person in your life, and you felt like the longer you stayed like this you were being perfectly molded to one another, as if you weren’t already a permanent fixture in each other’s hearts. You felt complete.

As your discomfort subsided, the pain slowly turning to a sense of fullness, you tangled your fingers in his hair, turning your head to the side to breathe upon his ear.

“I am alright now, husband. You can move.”

Regardless of your request he stood still for a moment longer, breathing heavily and erratically against your skin. 

“Aem?” you spoke softly, worried it might be too much for him.

That seemed to do the trick, as Aemond slowly started to roll his hips against yours, pulling his cock almost all the way out and thrusting back in, filling you to the brim once more. Every time he would thrust back in the head of his cock would brush against that spot inside your cunt that had your eyes rolling back, shooting little bolts of pleasure up your spine and filling your core with fire once more. 

His hips picked up pace, then, his thrusts far faster and more powerful than before. He let go, fully dropping his weight on top of you, pressing you against the mattress as your legs framed his hips, your hands gripping at his shoulder blades. 

It was intense and blazing and comforting and overwhelming and caring and sultry and loving and oh, so good, all at the same time this push and pull and shove and tug and you couldn’t think straight yet your focus was sharp and you could feel everything and it was absolutely, downright perfect. 

The stretch of your cunt wrapped tightly around his cock was no longer painful, giving away to unimaginable pleasure like you had never felt before. You were acutely aware of the way Aemond mouthed at your shoulder, mumbling barely coherent words against your skin.

“Ñuha ābrazȳrys, ñuha dāria.” he grunted against your skin, groaning as the words made you clench tightly around him “Dōna zaldrītsos, jorrāelagon ābrazȳrys.”   

He was rambling, almost irrationally, too far gone in his own pleasure. That and the way his thrusts were becoming sloppy, now more of a rut of his hips against yours, indicated that he was close.

Enamored with the way he moaned your name and your title and your future title and sweet monikers, in high valyrian mostly, you couldn’t help but want to see how far he would go.

“Husband, valzȳrys,” you tangled your fingers in his hair once more, giving the locks a gentle tug, earning a whine in response “Avy jorrāelan, ñuha zaldrīzes. Avy jorrāelan tolī hae olvie hae konīr issi qēlossās isse se jēdar, Aem.”

It was enough to send him off the edge, his hips stuttering and cock twitching violently, painting your walls with warm ropes of his seed. He practically sobbed in your arms between clenched teeth, his arms squeezing you tightly against him as he gave a few more weak thrusts, his breath fanning the skin of your neck still. The scorching pressure that had been building in your stomach seemed to fade slightly as Aemond slowed to a stop, his softening cock still nestled inside you as he stilled completely on top of you, trembling in your arms. His hair was sticking to his head, damp with sweat, the rest of his body also drenched and clammy from the exertion, much like your own. He stood still for a moment, trying to catch his breath and recover. 

“F-Forgive me, ābrazȳrys.” he raised his head and it was then you could see the remnant of tears in his eyes, from your words or the intensity of his peak, you couldn’t tell.

“What for?” you smiled brightly at him, pushing a strand of silvery hair behind his ear, making him shiver as your fingers brushed against his cheek.

“Y-you did-” he finally seemed to recollect his thoughts as he pushed himself on his forearms above you “You did not peak.”

“That is quite alright.” you shrugged, not at all bothered by that “I did so earlier, from your fingers.”

He shook his head, a determined look in his face as if to say that that wouldn’t do.

“No wife of mine will be left unsatisfied.” he was already pulling out of you with a soft hiss and maneuvering on the bed despite your protests, coming to settle on his stomach at the edge of the mattress.

“Aemond what are you-” you yelped as he grabbed both your legs and yanked you towards himself, his face level with your cunt. He placed your thighs over his shoulders and placed one arm over your stomach “Aemond, you do not have to.” you tried once more.

“I want to.” he said, his eyes never straying from where his spend started leaking from your cunt “Can a man not enjoy the taste of his wife on their wedding night?”

“Of course you can, it is just that-” he didn’t let you finish, pulling another broken, choked moan from you as he licked a broad stripe over your folds. 

Aemond feasted upon your cunt like a man starved, drinking down your juices mixed with his own spend, but that didn’t seem to deter him, oh no, if anything the salty taste of himself against your own tangy one only seemed to spur him on.

It didn’t take long to get you back to where you were moments before, that burning pressure still lingering in the back of your mind. You knew Aemond was talented with his tongue, hells, he was known for his silver tongue that could cut down even the most fearless in court. Moreover, he was fluent in the language of your ancestors, his tongue rolling around the letters as he almost purred the words into the world, a language just for your own. And yet, he never ceased to surprise you with how good he could make you feel with his tongue alone.

Clenching the sheets under your palms, you almost sobbed as his lips wrapped around your clit and sucked. He rolled it around his lips, his tongue peaking out to give your clit a few small licks as he extended one of his arms to, prying your fingers from the linens and threading them with his own, giving your hand a gentle squeeze, his other arm draped across your stomach, holding your hips down as you started canting them against his face.

You weakly raised yourself on your forearms to be able to look at him properly, peering at him through heavy lidded eyes, and were surprised to notice him already looking at you, gazing at you with so much adoration in his eye as his hips rutted against the bed. You realized, not for the first time, that bringing you pleasure brought him pleasure in return. He hummed as he noticed you staring at him, the vibrations sending jolts of unbridled pleasure up your spine and down again. His eyes twinkled and curled up, little crinkled lines adorning the corners, and you recognized that the smug bastard was smirking, self-satisfied at having you reduced to such a moaning mess before him.

The coil of pleasure in the form of a pool of liquid heat was steadily building up again with each stroke of his tongue over your folds, each flick of his lips over your clit stoking that fire growing and expanding inside you. His grip on your hips tightened as his other hand moved down to your cunt and shoved two fingers inside you, pulling back a bit to address you quietly.

“Let go, wife. I know you want to. You can let go for me.”

And then his fingers curled upwards, brushing against that spongy spot once more and you were done for. The bliss that washed over you, tangling with the burning love you held for this man, was so intense it sent waves through your whole body. Stars danced behind your eyelids, your eyes having closed on their own accord some time before, as the pleasure rolled and stretched to all of your extremities, making your fingertips tingle and your toes curl, knocking the breath from your lungs. Although you knew your jaw was hanging open you couldn’t hear yourself, but you couldn’t discern if it was due to the ringing in your ears or if you had already screamed yourself hoarse.

As your perception of the world around you slowly returned once you came down from your high, the pleasure subsiding and leaving a warm, fuzzy feeling in its wake, you felt Aemond’s thumb gently stroking your knuckles, having removed his hand from inside you, his other palm spread over your stomach as he helped you coax you back down and when you gazed at him you were met with his gentle smile

“T-thank you, husband.” you said a few moments later after catching your breath, exhaustion starting to settle in your bones as you relaxed over the linens, your head falling back on the bed.

“Oh, you thought I was done with you?” he asked, almost mockingly. Raising your head again you noticed his prior smile had given way to a menacing smirk as he started crawling over you slowly, looking predatory. He covered your body with his once more, and you felt his hardened cock against your thigh, having stimulated himself back to full hardness.

“I don’t intend on letting you leave this bed until I have filled you with my seed over and over and over,” he punctuated each pause with a kiss to your lips as he whispered “that I have made sure it has taken root inside you. We need to produce an heir after all, dear wife.”

High Valyrian translations: - ābrazȳrys - wife - valzȳrys - husband - mandianna - niece (older sister’s son or daughter) - qȳbor - uncle (mother’s younger brother) - ñuha jorrāelagon - my love or my dear - avy jorrāelan, ñuha zaldrītsos - I love you, my little dragon - va moriot emagon se va moriot kessa - always have and always will - byka mandianna - little niece - ñuha ābrazȳrys, ñuha dāria - my wife, my queen - dōna zaldrītsos, jorrāelagon ābrazȳrys - sweet little dragon, dear wife  - avy jorrāelan, ñuha zaldrīzes - I love you, my dragon - avy jorrāelan tolī hae olvie hae konīr issi qēlossās isse se jēdar - I love you as much as there are stars in the sky

Tag List:

@callsignwidow

@sleephereicome

@bitchassgoose

@voguiing

@dibutw

@fruityvampslayer

@garden-in-the-rain

[hectorthedoggo]

teehee!! new chapter!!

tws under cut (but, they have slight spoilers, so steer clear :D)

Tws: referenced underage drinking (/j), suicidal ideations, implied past es not living la vida loca (slight physical, emotional child abuse), also, there is no csa/sa at all in this fic for es, btw :)

(@kani-miso good morning)

[slixqrta]

yandere! omega x omega! reader

synopsis: an omega who doesn’t fit the stereotypical narrative of a submissive partner and an omega who does.

TW: 18+ writing, gn! reader, male! yandere omegaverse, mentioned and referenced violence, a brief mention of drugs, implied references of past sa towards the reader, manipulation, implied descriptions of reader getting depressed, implied mention of future noncon/dubcon, yandere elements.

a/n: so ah, my first post at tumblr, and since I always found interesting the omegaverse concept, i thought why not? why not writing one of my own and post it? and so, here i am. I hope the people who finds this to enjoy!! also be aware this contain some context that might not be suitable to some readers as mentioned in the TW area. and the divider is from @.cafekitsune

maxwell doesn’t fit the narrative of what an omega should be or act. he knows that, it’s something that he is proud of.

from the very first moment, he learned of his secondary gender, max promised to himself that he won’t let people take advantage of him because of it.

the long days of attending the gym, learning self-defense and taking daily doses of his anti-heat medication made him feel more confident. he is no longer that little boy who was often picked by his classmates, by alphas who often overlooked him. now from the most people’s eyes, he appears to be an alpha with his height and strength, ready to attack if necessary, so no one dares to approach him mostly of the time.

however, the alphas are another story.

those idiots, well a great amount of them, thinks maxwell is a challenge to be beaten.

his mind can replays the countless times where an alpha entered his life, promising equality and fairness, only to betray that promise. each time, max found himself standing his ground, taking them down the instant they shattered his trust.

there was one who was caught in the act of replacing his anti-heat pills with placebo, another one tried to convince him to stop attending the gym daily and to take lessons on ‘housekeeping’ classes, and the last one was dumb enough to even try to remove the condom during sex. that was the final straw.

after that incident, max stayed on his own.

the weekly pill that he managed to buy from a secret source serves to make his scent disappear. max doesn’t concern himself with how it works or where it comes from—his only focus is on the alphas who remain unaware of his true status as a omega as he walks through the streets. there is no one to bother him anymore.

his life is now peaceful.

there is no alpha to irritate him nor no society’s expectations thrown at him. he is at peace, ready to start a new life, ready to pretend to be a beta in the background of society and ignore all of his past problems. that was his plan, to live a perfect and solitude life at his small apartment, yet things changed when you popped at his life.

an omega who didn’t know better.

an omega who was raised that everyone is equal regardless of their secondary gender.

an omega who, unfortunately, didn’t know how awful most alphas act when things don’t go their planned way.

he found you sitting behind a dumpster on his way home after a night at the gym. the bruises on your skin were a clear sign you'd ndured from your alpha, and as a result, you had fled from them, ending up on the streets. max also notice of the faded bite mark on the back of your shoulder, a silent indication that it had been some time since your escape. his heart got heavier when seeing you in a state like this, and so max took you to his place.

his bachelorette apartment became your safe heaven, your new home. after spending days in complety silence following your rescue, you told max your name and the story of what had happened.

the alpha who you believed to be your soulmate, became abusive after trusting the words of the neighbors’ false accusations of your infidelity. the alpha ignored your pleadings, resorting to brutal force, demanding a confession for something you never did. after days unable to move properly, you gain enough courage to leave them with the little money you had in hands which led you to meet max weeks later at that dumpster.

it is no surprise the story shocked him. max always knew that alphas were dense when the subject was about their mates, but never he would think that an alpha would treat an omega so poorly like that. it disgusts him.

he can’t imagine how hard would his life be if he hadn’t fight to stand up for himself.

“i know it’s hard to tell someone about the abuses you’ve been through, but i’m happy that you were brave to open up with me.” he said, offering a hug that you happily accepted, resting your head on his chest as one of his hands gently caress your hair. “you know, you can stay here as much you need. i won’t rush you to leave.”

those words brought you comfort, safety and even happiness. never in million years, you would believe that someone would you. most of the time, when people witness an alpha and an omega fighting, they didn’t intervene. to their eyes, the submissive partner should be the one to blame. if a mere omega can’t handle an alpha’s outburst of anger, then they aren’t worthy.

to society’s eyes, omega aren’t nothing but a way to keep their partners from being violent outdoors. omegas are use as a form of entertainment to alphas, a maid to take care of the house, a baby machine to bear the stress of raising children on their own and a plaything to be used when they need to relieve stress.

it’s a miracle that you are no longer part of this circle of abusive, free from the fear and anxiety that comes with being an omega.

well, you can’t exactly go outside anymore, but at least you don’t have to live in fear of punishment like you used to. sure, you don’t have a personal income because of it, but that doesn’t matter, does it? as long as you with max, you’ll never need to step outside and risk yourself for a handful of pennies.

“the outside world is far too dangerous for a fragile omega like you.”

that’s what max always tell you when you try to bring up the subject of searching for a job. and always, you agree with his statement even though it hurts your heart.

don’t you realize that you are in the same position as before?

it took you a long time to notice how small the apartment feels. perhaps the months spent confined within these walls has heightened your awareness of the lack of personal space—or the absence of any time truly yours.

there is no privacy, no place to hide—not from this apartment, not from him and not from your own thoughts. the days blur together, each one an endless loop of the same routine.

you can’t take this anymore, not when max’s presence start getting overwhelming. and feeling your heat coming closer isn’t helping either.

to think max would stop giving you the anti heat pills after you ‘tried’ to escape drives you crazy.

it started in a weekend night. shaking your whole body as you dragged yourself to the bedroom. the heavy blanket covering your nude form as your fingers try to pleasure yourself, a stupid way to compress your moans.

you were so focused in staying quiet that you failed to notice max joining you in bed. his hands going underneath the blanket, not wasting time in tracing the many beauty marks from your skin.

he knows it’s wrong to touch you like this.

but, for the first time in his life, max has the upper hand in a situation like this.

he needs you.

and he will makes you need him even more.

“take a deep breath, [name]…” his mouth curved into a soft smile, a completely opposite of his actions. “i promise to make our first time a gentle one.”

[litnerdwrites]

Justice for Nesta recs (AO3)

Most, if not all, of these recs are in the Justice for Nesta/ ACOSF rewrite/fix-it vein. It will be updates as I find more fics, but feel free to send any recs you have.

TRIGGER WARNING! Many of these fics will be very dark, with references to suicide, ptsd, misogyny, and IC BS. However, I'll be sure to add specifics where applicable.

Fics For Those Craving Nesta JusticeI put all the fics I found into one collection on AO3 that, as the title suggests, are for those craving Nesta Justice. Please read the relevant tags for each fic, as many of them contain reference to PTSD, SA (both past referenced and in story), and general IC BS.

I'll also list every fic in this collection bellow, just to keep them all in one place. Feel free to also add your own finds or works if you have any. The collection is open, but moderated.

Those the Stars Cannot Hear by @kataraavatara An ACOSF rewrite where Mor makes good on her threat to leave Nesta in the CON.

Baby, now we got bad blood by Pumpkinspice_Lou They say you should never come between a male and his mate. Rhysand should've known better. Aka Cassian finally choosing Nesta. Completed two-shot.

A Court of Vice and Victors by Wishcamper Acosf rewritten by a therapist. Need I say more? Incomplete.

You Made Her Like That By BookWorm77071 A few days into their Hike from Hell, Nesta is able to form one coherent thought: I don't want to do this anymore. So she stops. Three chapter short story. Completed.

Nesta becomes a baby by Theladyofbloodshed Exactly what the title says. Oneshot.

A Court of Tangled Flames by Theladyofbloodshed A Neris fic where Nesta gets the love story she deserves.

ACOTAR snippet collection by Theladyofbloodshed A collection of Acotar what ifs.

Nesta vs. The Buffer by Theladyofbloodshed After Nesta finally snaps at another 'family' dinner, calling Cassian and Mor out on their shit, she begins to heal and fall in love on her own terms. With a certain shadowsinger. Completed. Nezriel fic. Anti IC but they kind of redeem themselves at the end. Completed.

AU Where We Pretend Acosf Didn't Happen by Theladyofbloodshed An alternative take to ACOSF, starting from post ACOFS. Nesta ends up leaving Velaris, starting herself on a journey of self discovery and healing. TW Beron Vansera, implied/referenced SA, IC being assholes.

Nightmare Dressed Like A Daydream by This_Immortal_Hope Nesta was a wolf. So, much like a wolf, she bided her time, accepting her exile with ice in her and determination in her heart. When she was ready, she tore their Court of Dreams apart with their own hypocrisy. One shot. No ship. Rhysand is thoroughly put in his place. Oneshot.

Second Chances by miryamdev Cassian apologises to Nesta after the HOFAS bonus chapter.

A trick of the light by closet_monster There was nothing condemning about madness or paralyzing fear. Nesta was familiar with both — they seemed to be a recurring theme in both womanhood and life in Hewn. Oneshot. TW Depression, self harm, and implied abuse. Please double check the tags before reading.

Burn for Eternity by rosemai Nesta is defeated and broken down by the words of her sisters and the IC, so she takes matters into her own hands and meets a group on individuals who could give her the help she needs. Incomplete.

Nesta's Truth by grovellingboyfriends After another year of leaving Nesta alone, Cassian finds Nesta in her apartment on Solstice, standing over a dead man. TW for implied SA, parental abuse, Elain is a bitch. 3/5 chapters published as of making this post.

Daylight by Flowerflamestar Nesta Archeron, banished and betrayed, ran from cold and hatred straight into the light of Day and found a place where she could belong. Completed.

Might I Suggest You Don't Fuck With My Sis by MacabreGiggles The intervention rethought, where the Archeron sisters decide to stand up for one another and put the IC in their place. Incomplete.

I died. I will die. It's alright. I don't mind. By MacabreGiggles Nesta resorts to other means to cope, like drugs. Incomplete. TW. Abuse. Alcolism. Suicide. Sexual assault. Drug abuse.

The Veil of Silence by Hrizantemy There exists a veil of silence, it shrouds our voices masking our truths, muffling our cries, our voices are muted, and dreams whispered. Incomplete.

You're a crisis of my faith by porque_nolosdos Nesta and Elain leave the NC, and upon seeing the IC's reaction, Feyre decides to ditch them too. Incomplete.

A thousand cuts by adelindschade It finally clicks for Cassian just how badly Nesta was hurting (it only took three TW suicide TW attempts), so he decides to try thinking of what Nesta would want. This decision leaves a ripple effect that will change the NC as we know it. Incomplete.

The consequences of normality by TheTeaQueen After the events of ACOSF, things seem relatively normal. Until Cassian realises that Nesta doesn't ask for things, or that self hatred still grips her, or the facade she puts on for her family. When she starts cutting back on training and work in the library, he begins to worry. Maybe things aren't as perfect as he thought. Maybe their methods in helping her weren't as effective as he thought. Incomplete.

Three little words by TheTeaQueen Cassian finally says those three little words that Nesta needed to hear. Oneshot.

Like fire, she raged by TheTeaQueen Emerie stands up for Nesta and puts Rhys and Feyre in their place. Completed.

Of Death and Resurrection by TheTeaQueen Part 1 of In the name of healing and happiness. Nesta was ready to die. So to save Feyre and Nyx, she did. Can Rhysand, the only person who can save her, bring her back from the brink? Completed. TW Implied suicide, rape/sa, anti Elain.

Of Shadows and Light by TheTeaQueen Part 2 of In the name of healing and happiness. Technically more of a Gwynriel fic, but does have some Nessian since it follows the aftermath of Of death and Resurrection, only Azriel, Gwyn & Elain are the main focus. Ties up a lose thread or two from part 1, and is 100% Anti Elain. Completed. TW Implied child abuse, implied suicide, torture.

Of Reopened Wounds and Retribution by TheTeaQueen Part 3 of In the name of healing and happiness. A trip to the human lands to discuss the treaty leads Nesta to face Thomas Mandray again. This time, she has family willing to go to hell and back for her. Incomplete. TW Implied rape/sa, panic attack.

Lady Death and Her Kingdom by TheTeaQueen Amren pushes Nesta too far, causing her to awaken a strange new power. TW Implied child abuse. Incomplete.

The Hike, Alternatively by TheTeaQueen An alternative take on The Hike from Hell, where Nesta attempt to TW commit suicide TW, and Cassian realises just how messed up their methods, and the events leading up to the hike are. Written for Suicide prevention month. Completed. TW Self harm, suicide, The Hike.

To Pay a Debt by TheTeaQueen When Nesta sees that Feyre didn't include her in any of the paintings, she does the only thing she can think of; Run. Incomplete. TW, attempted suicide, suicidal thoughts, mentioned sa.

Burning from the Inside out by TheTeaQueen An au where Nesta's secretly lived with Chronic pain her whole life, only for the cauldron and her new powers to exacerbate it. Complete. TW Implied/referenced child abuse, suicidal thoughts, ableism, internalised ableism.

The Whole Truth by TheTeaQueen An alternative take where Nesta's deepest secret comes to light when Elain explodes at the dinner table one night. This forces the IC and her sisters to reevaluate their perception of her. Incomplete. TW: Child abuse, suicidal thoughts/ideation, forced prostitution, sexual assault (underage!!)

Set my Soul Alight by moodymelanist Nesta finds solace in Autumn. No Nessian. Completed. TW Implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced rape, implied/referenced torture.

Falling by becauseofreading Another take on what happens after Cassian tells Nesta that everybody hates her. Incomplete. TW Self harm, suicidal thoughts, blood and injuries.

Destruction and Renewal by Vorbi Nesta is given the opportunity to form new alliances. Initially, she scoffs at the idea, but after a small, final act of disrespect from the IC, she decides to see where this new path leads us. Incomplete. TW Implied/referenced abuse.

No One Likes A Mad Woman by Separatist_Apologist You made her like that. Nesta has had her choices tripped away, so when Eris offers her an out, she takes it. No happy ending for Cassian. The Night Court gets no sympathy. Completed. TW Domestic violence

A Cup of Tea by shaziskhalid After realising that the Cassian of her dreams isn't the Cassian she's mated to, everything changed. (MCU! Wanda, modern Au). Incomplete.

Promise by Daughterofthesea Begins during that scene where Cassian follows Nesta, and ends with him understanding just how much pain she's in, and deciding to actually help her.

Stay here (I love you, but I need another year) by littleplease Nesta is tired, and losing the will to even try. Complete. TW Apathy, depression, vuage suicidal thoughts.

What you did to me (I'll spend my life trying to rise) by filthymouthedslut Nesta is done with the IC's holier-than-thou attitude. No ship. Incomplete (3/4) as of updating this post.

Everybody hates you by Booksandsushi A different take on the time Cassian tells Nesta that Everybody hates her. Incomplete.

Change is good by Booksandsushi Nesta figures her life out on her own. Complete.

Truth of the Heart By TheFreakPanda The months after ACOFAS leave Nesta presented with some new opportunities. Full of therapy and dancing. Completed.

I've Always Liked to Play with Fire by catalyste After her village is destroyed and family killed by Hybern following Feyre's revenge mission, you wake up healed in the NC. After Lucien leaves you there, you find yourself trapped with Nesta Archeron, who turns out to be an unlikely ally. The two of you plan your escape with the help of Eris Vansera. Polly, Neris/reader, with IC bashing, and dragons. Incomplete.

The relapse by Janes_Melodies Something broke in Nesta when she learned about the results of the vote, knowing it was a tie until Feyre. She was trying for her sisters and for Cassian, yet they still think she's cruel enough to create a whole new trove just to kill them all. For the first time in months, she gave into her desires. Incomplete. TW Alcoholism, Implied/referenced self harm, suicidal thoughts.

You're safe now by annieleonhardtsring Rewrite of the scene where Nesta falls down the stairs, and Azriel stands up for her. Complete.

Love her how she should be loved by julemmaes Cassian overhears his family making some not-so-subtle comments about Nesta, and it pushes him over the edge. So he goes to bat for her, blaming his friends for everything wrong with their relationship with his girlfriend. Modern AU completed.

The Nest World - The Next Life by bat_called_phil ACOSF canon divergence fic that starts with the intervention, but diverts when Nesta takes a stand for herself, and Feyre starts holding Rhys accountable. TW Implied/referenced suicide, Implied/referenced abortion.

A Court of Spite and Isolation by xxTAO Nesta choses the human lands, separated from the IC and the distractions from her trauma, she spirals. Incomplete (4/6) TW Suicidal thoughts, Implied/referenced alcoholism, Suicide attempt.

Come Home by Rhysanoodle Cassian learns how Nesta's been living since she came to Illyria, and which fears haunt her the most. Complete.

[punkshort]

Chapter warnings: references to PTSD and SA, language, soft and fluffy Joel, some mild sexual references

Chapter Eighteen

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, pre-outbreak and post outbreak

AU (the only thing I kept was the outbreak, Joel, and Tommy's characters. Joel's backstory is different, and the way he finds Jackson is different. I may include Ellie one day, I just haven't planned that far)

Fic Summary: You worked for Joel and Tommy a few months before the outbreak. The outbreak happens, and you and Joel get stuck traveling the country and keeping each other safe. Neither of you spoke about the feelings you had for one another pre-outbreak, and in a post-apocalyptic world, it seems like survival should be your only focus. But feelings can't be ignored forever.

Fic tags: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Smut, Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use, Age Difference (Reader is 10 years younger than Joel), slow burn, mutual pining, angst, trauma, SA referencing later but I will put a big warning on those chapters

Tommy slid down from his horse as the other four members of his party glanced at him curiously and lowered their weapons. He stomped across the road with his eyes locked on Joel, looking him over before breaking out into a huge grin. Joel was frozen to the ground in disbelief, wondering if he had finally lost his mind until Tommy's arms wrapped around him. When he felt his brother's embrace, he squeezed his eyes shut and pulled him further into the hug, swaying back and forth and clapping his back.

You stood behind Joel and watched as the brothers reunited. Tommy's face was lit up, his eyes sparkling with unshed tears, not yet registering your presence. Joel's eyes were closed, but you could read him like a book, relief written all over his face. He was smiling into Tommy's shoulder, unable to keep his tough guy act up through his happiness, and you couldn't help but smile, yourself. It's been a long time since you saw him this elated. He had suffered a lot over the past year right along with you, and now, finally, something was going right. Your mind flickered back to your parents and what it would have been like, if you were able to reunite with them this way. It brought a sadness to your face, which you quickly wiped away when the brothers finally broke their hug.

"How in the hell did'ya make it all the way out here?" Tommy asked. Joel rubbed the back of his neck and cast a glance in your direction.

"Had some help," he said, still smiling, and Tommy finally turned his attention to you. You could see the realization slowly register as he recognized you. He gave you a half smile and shook his finger in your direction, then glanced back quickly at Joel, giving him a sly look before meeting your gaze once again, saying your name. You were surprised he even knew your name before the outbreak, let alone remembered it now.

"Hey... Mr. Miller," you said awkwardly. Tommy laughed and shook his head, heading towards you with his arms spread wide.

"I think you can call me 'Tommy', darlin'. I ain't your boss anymore." Your body tensed as you saw him about to envelop you into a hug, but fortunately Joel was two steps ahead and swooped in front of you, clasping his arms around Tommy again, cutting him off.

"I can't believe it's really you. C'mere," Joel said, trying to smooth it over. You could see Tommy's confused smile as he looked at Joel, but he let it go. He pulled back and waved the others over who were watching from the tree line with amused expressions. They slid off their horses and left them to graze as they strolled over to join you.

Tommy introduced you both to his group. Maria was the presumed leader, a beautiful woman with ebony skin and a quick wit. Also with them was a man who looked to be in his mid-50s with salt and pepper hair named Eugene, another man probably a little older named Seth, and a younger man with black hair named Jesse. Now that there was no threat, they all seemed very welcoming and pleasant. You noticed Maria caught your eye a few times, inspecting you closely, but you didn't get a bad feeling from her the way you did with Amy. You picked up a protective instinct, like she was concerned about you.

You all stood around in a circle as Tommy explained where his group lived. It was a place called Jackson not too far from where you were standing. There were about 30 people or so developing a sanctuary around a once gated community that existed there. As Tommy droned on about the advancements they were making with the place, Maria sidled up to you.

"Hey," she said, giving you a warm smile.

"Hey," you said back. "Thanks for not shooting us." She laughed, a sound that brought a genuine smile to your face, which Joel noticed when he turned his head briefly at the sound before focusing back on Tommy.

"Sorry about that. We are all bark and very little bite. The place we are building is in the middle of nowhere, and we'd like to keep it off the radar. Keep it safe," you nodded in understanding as she continued.

"We have a great group of people so far. It's really starting to feel like before. Like, life can be somewhat normal again."

"You really believe that?" you asked her before you could consider your words. "I don't mean any offense, but we've been traveling for a while. The QZs and other... places. They all think they can make it work, but there's always a catch."

Maria regarded you carefully, as if she confirmed something she already suspected.

"It's safe. It's not like those places. We are incredibly careful about who we let in. We haven't had to yet, but if need be, by democratic vote, if anyone steps out of line, they're out." The way her stare bored into you made it feel like she was trying to tell you something. Like she was trying to convey a message, and you were beginning to figure it out. Your eyes shifted back to the group of men chatting away, Joel's gaze frequently finding its way back to you to make sure you were alright. Maria took a step closer, but she didn't place a finger on you, giving you space.

"When did it happen?" she asked you quietly.

You sucked in a breath through your teeth and stared at the ground. You kicked at a weed sticking up through the dirt, trying to buy yourself some time.

"How did you know?" you asked without looking up.

"I used to be an Assistant District Attorney in Omaha," she said lowly, making sure the men didn't overhear. "I saw a lot of women like you come through my office. I prosecuted hundreds of men on sexual assault. And I've witnessed the aftermath... I guess I'm just sensitive to it now."

You nodded, blinking back tears as you stared at the ground.

"There was another community," you whispered. "They had a... system. That we were not told about when we joined." You looked up at Maria and you could see the disgust in her face. "The women were expected to..." you trailed off and she nodded, holding her hand up to cut you off.

"I can figure out the rest," she said. "No need to rehash it. When?"

"Umm," you took a shaky breath and looked up at the sky, the crisp fall air making your cheeks rosy. "Few months ago, I guess."

As if he could sense your energy, Joel turned his head to look at you, then Maria, then back at you, waiting until you met his eyes. You did, and you nodded to him, letting him know you were ok. He gave you one last look before turning his attention back to Tommy.

"Are you and him...?" Maria asked, catching Joel's looks in your direction. You nodded and finally met her gaze.

"Yeah. We all knew each other before. They were technically my bosses, although saying that now sounds so strange." You couldn't help but laugh at how much has changed in a year. "But he and I... that didn't happen til after. Well, kind of. It's a long story." She rolled her eyes and smiled.

"It always is." You smiled and bit your lip, then she asked, "Does he take care of you?"

You looked back over your shoulder at Joel while he laughed at something Tommy said. You nodded and turned back to Maria.

"Yeah," you said, "he takes care of me. He... he saved me. In more ways than one."

Maria nodded at your words, as if it was all she needed to hear.

"Join us," she said. "Both of you. We could use another contractor, and I think you'd really like it. It can be a home, if you help us."

Your thoughts drifted to Yellowstone, to the imaginary house Joel would fix up for you to live, just the two of you. Maybe on the edge of a beautiful lake, surrounded by trees and wildlife. But then you remembered Joel's face when he held his brother, and your chest ached. You would have given anything to hug your parents again. And you knew you couldn't take that away from him. You nodded.

“Yeah. Let me talk to him first,” you jutted your chin in Joel’s direction. “But… yeah. Thank you.” And you really meant it. You tried not to let your hopes get too high, but for the first time in a very long time, you were beginning to feel optimistic.

Maria took a couple steps towards the men and touched Tommy’s shoulder. He immediately swiveled in her direction, and you could see the adoration in his eyes when he looked at her. You smiled to yourself as Joel sidestepped to stand next to you.

“What’re you smilin’ for?” he murmured. You nodded your head gently in Tommy’s direction while Maria spoke softly to him, the other men carrying on a conversation amongst themselves a few feet away. He looked at his brother and then back at you, confused.

“He likes her,” you whispered, and Joel scrunched his eyebrows together.

“You think?” he said, stealing a glance back in Tommy’s direction. You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, I do think,” you said, gently poking him with your elbow, and he grinned.

“That the same way I look at you?” he asked you, still grinning. You blushed and nodded.

“Kind of.”

Your eyes landed back on Maria, and you exchanged glances. You placed your hand on Joel’s elbow, tearing his eyes away from his brother.

“Let’s go talk for a second,” you told him, leading him a few feet away to lean against a guardrail. He settled in next to you and looked down, the sun radiating behind him in the sky, warming your face.

“I know what you’re gonna say,” he began. “Don’t worry. I ain’t gonna ask to join them, we can stick to our plan. And maybe every so often we can go visit Tommy, it’s probably only a few days walk. That is, if you’re up for it.”

The look he gave you was so sincere that it made your throat tighten. He really was willing to leave his brother, the only family he had left, just to be with you like he promised. You swallowed thickly, your emotions getting the best of you. His eyes trailed up and down your face and noticed your eyes begin to water. He reached a hand up to cup your face and stroked his thumb along your cheek.

"You'd do that for me?" you whispered, and he nodded.

"'Course I would. What's wrong?" He was confused now, his brow furrowed.

"What if I wanted to give this place a chance?" you said, bringing your hand up to his and pulling it from your face, interlocking your fingers together. He glanced over your shoulder at Tommy and Maria, who were trying not to watch your conversation.

"I'm not - I don't know if you bein' in a situation like that again is the best idea..." he trailed off and cleared his throat, struggling to find the words. "I mean, do you really think you're ready for somethin' like that?"

You sighed and shrugged your shoulders.

"I don't know. But I don't think the answer is isolating ourselves forever because one bad thing happened," you stroked your thumb over the top of his hand and looked past his shoulder at the abandoned road that would ultimately lead to Yellowstone.

"Besides, I have a good feeling about this place. Tommy, Maria... I trust them. If we were to ever join a community, this would be it. We can help them build something, Joel." You squeezed his hand, and he shook his head, still unsure. The past few months, he was so absorbed in protecting you, making you feel safe, and giving you a place to heal that he couldn't bring himself to let his guard down, even for his own brother. But hearing you say you wanted to do this, wanted to try again in a community after you had been let down, made his walls start to crack. He hung his head, tucking his chin into his chest as he listened to you.

"I would feel safe with you and Tommy. But it's up to you. If you don't want to -"

He brought his hand up from his side to gently clasp the back of your neck, pulling you towards him to rest his forehead on yours. Your eyes fluttered shut as the soft exhale from his nose fanned over your face.

"You sure?" he asked so softly, you almost didn't hear him. You nodded and opened your eyes to find him staring at you, trying to read your face. The small wrinkles around his eyes scrunched and his eyebrows pinched together in thought.

"Yes, I'm sure. I want to do this." His eyes closed and you leaned forward to quickly press your lips on his, feeling Tommy and Maria’s gaze on your back. His eyes reopened when you pulled away. Joel grinned down at you and grasped your hand to lead you back over to the group. Joel cleared his throat to speak, but Tommy cut him off.

"C'mon, let's go show that girl of yours her new home," he said with a shit-eating grin, and you hoped they would blame the cold air for the redness on your cheeks. There was still something surreal about seeing these two men together again in such a different world.

Tommy handed the reins to his horse to Joel so the two of you could ride back together, and he joined Maria on the back of her horse. You pinched Joel's side when you saw who Tommy chose to ride with, and he smiled, shaking his head.

It turned out that Jackson was only about an hour from where they had found you on the road. You weren't sure what you were expecting. Maybe another big, abandoned building with tiny rooms, but you were never expecting an actual town. Not only a town, but a town with walls. Well, most of the wall was done. There were a few small areas that were under construction still. Maria explained that in order to keep the town safe, everyone took turns guarding the opening of the fence. She expected it to be completed soon, and gave Joel a look.

You had dropped your horses off at the stables. The three men, Jesse, Seth and Eugene offered to tend to the animals while Maria and Tommy showed you both around. There wasn't much to see yet, it looked like a regular town that was in the process of being remodeled, but you could see the vision as Maria walked and pointed at each building lining Main Street.

"That area over there used to be a gated community, so the handful of us cleared it out and set up camp. Then, we slowly expanded, and began coming up with an idea for the town," Maria paused to give a young woman a wave and a smile as she walked. "It worked out. We had somewhere safe to go while we built out the wall further to surround this part of town. We are also currently working on expanding the wall over that cluster of houses over there," she pointed to an area further back down the road that was currently barricaded, then she stopped in front of what used to be a bar.

"This is our kitchen and dining hall, come on in and take a look."

Maria led you through the doors of the Tipsy Bison and headed back to the kitchen with Tommy to find you some food. You spun around to take in all the American western decor hanging from the walls when you felt Joel's hand on the small of your back. His beard tickled the shell of your ear as he leaned into you.

"You just say the word if this ain’t what you want, you hear me?"

You spun around to face him and mockingly put your hands on your hips.

"Joel," you said flatly, "this place is incredible." A smile threatened the corners of his mouth, and he turned his head to gaze out of the window to hide it.

"Lotta work that needs to be done," he muttered. You glanced around to make sure you were still alone, then took a step forward, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your chin on his chest, gazing up at him.

"I love you," you whispered, and that finally pulled the smile across his face, leaning down to kiss you. His lips were chapped from the wind and his beard tickled your nose, but you didn't care. You slotted your lips in between his and gave the bottom one a tug when he tried to pull away. You could feel his surprise, then his hands came up to cup your face gently, pulling you back.

"What's gotten into you?" he asked you inquisitively as he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. You shrugged.

"Just happy, I guess," you said. His hand froze on your face and looked down to study you, as if he were trying to decide if you were telling the truth or not. Whatever he saw made his eyes light up and his mouth came crashing down on yours, tugging your chin up higher as his lips pressed firmly against your own. For the first time in a long time, he tested the waters and licked at your lips, very quickly, assuring you it was alright not to take things further. But you opened your mouth for him immediately, and your tongues danced together in a frenzy. You wrapped a hand around the back of his neck to bring him further down, closer to you. He moaned softly into your mouth, and you felt a stirring in your lower abdomen you haven't felt in months. You continued to lick feverishly into his mouth as both his hands came up to the sides of your head, his thumbs gently pressing into the soft flesh of your cheeks.

"Ahem," Tommy said from behind the bar. You went to throw yourself backwards, but Joel snagged your waist, keeping you pressed against him, your cheeks burning hot as you lightly panted for breath. Tommy smirked at Joel, absolutely loving the uncomfortable position he put his older brother in.

"Great timin', as always," Joel grumbled, but you could tell he wasn't actually mad. Maria came around the corner with two bowls of stew, unfazed by Joel's grip on your waist. She placed them on the counter and invited you both to sit. Joel released his grip and nudged you forward first so he could follow behind, trying to hide the growing erection in his jeans.

You both expressed your gratitude and began to eat, enjoying the way the stew was warming you up.

"So, here's the deal," Maria began, and you paused briefly to listen. "We don't have a house ready for you yet. It might be a couple months. The homes we have now are all spoken for, and we need to finish the wall around the others before we can assign you one," Maria shot Joel a quick glance. "Maybe you can help us build the wall, and we can get you a house faster."

"'Course I'll help," Joel said, scooping the last of the stew into his mouth. Maria smiled, happy to have another contractor’s assistance.

"In the meantime, why don't you both stay with Tommy? He's got a big house. You have the room, don't you?" Maria placed a hand on Tommy's arm and gave him a small smile, and you watched him nearly melt.

"S-sure, not a problem," he stuttered, then cleared his throat and straightened up. "So long as you two can keep your hands off each other," he teased, trying to steer the attention away from him. Your cheeks flamed hot as you looked down at your nearly empty bowl. Joel met Tommy's eyes when you weren't looking and glared, trying to silently tell him to knock it off.

Maria elbowed Tommy in the ribs before saying your name and dragging your attention back to her.

"How do you feel about helping out in the kitchen?" Your eyes widened and you felt your chest constrict. You shifted your gaze around, trying to hide your reaction, but Joel placed a hand gently on your knee.

"Do you got anythin' outside?" Joel asked her, much to your relief. You let out a small, shaky breath when she answered.

"Yeah, of course. How about the greenhouse? We just got it up and running, we could use the help planting and tending to the vegetables." You nodded enthusiastically.

"That sounds great, thank you," you said.

Tommy's house was cozy, but you could tell most of the decorating was done by whoever had the house before the outbreak. When you walked through the front door, there was a small living room to your right and the kitchen to your left. The master bedroom was off the kitchen and two bedrooms with a bathroom upstairs. Tommy led you both through the living room and pointed up the staircase.

"Make yourselves at home, I don't have hardly anythin' up there. I'll grab a fresh set of sheets from my room - you need anythin' else?" You shook your head and expressed your thanks as you headed up the stairs. Joel clapped a hand on Tommy's shoulder, nodding as he moved to follow you, but Tommy grabbed his arm, and Joel stopped.

"You gonna tell me what happened some day?" Tommy murmured so you wouldn't hear. Joel's mind immediately drifted to your assault, and he tensed, his jaw clenched.

"How in the hell did you two end up together? Was she... at your place, or somethin', that day?" Tommy clarified his original question, and Joel relaxed, letting out a puff of air.

"Nah, nothin' like that. We were at work when it happened." He glanced up the stairs, eager to follow after you.

"So, how did you end up findin' each other? I mean, were there a bunch of you from the office at first?" Tommy crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the railing. Joel shook his head and ran a hand over his beard.

"I was chasin' after her down the street. She quit, I was tryin' to make her stay. Then these soldiers rolled up to the office and started shootin', and we just took off." Tommy's eyebrows shot up.

"Shit. I picked a hell of a time for a work trip, huh?" He chuckled and shook his head, then frowned. "Why'd she quit? I thought for sure you two were hittin' it off." Joel groaned and lifted a foot to rest on the bottom stair.

"I was bein' an asshole,” he admitted, and Tommy laughed.

"Man, you always were a charmer," Tommy's eyes twinkled. "But seriously, I'm glad you're both safe, I never thought I'd see you again," he said.

"Me, too. And thanks again, for takin' us in, I mean. I think this'll be really good for her." Joel gave his brother a small smile. Tommy waved him off.

"Alright, get upstairs and go rest. We'll swap stories another day. Dinner's served at 7, we can all go over together and I'll introduce you around." Tommy turned to head back to his room. "I'll bring those sheets up in a minute," he added over his shoulder as Joel ascended the stairs.

You were sitting cross-legged with your backpack on the floor, picking out what few clothes and belongings you had, when Joel entered the room.

"Everything alright?" you asked. Joel shrugged his backpack off his shoulders and leaned it against the bed, which was bare except for the mattress.

"Yeah, he's just got some questions," he told you, flopping down on the mattress with a grunt.

"I imagine he's got a lot of those," you murmured, and stood to open the closet for some hangers. You saw a comforter in a plastic bag on the shelf, along with a few pillows. His eyes were already locked on you when you turned around to toss the items on the mattress next to him.

"I didn't tell him," he said quietly, and you stilled, knowing exactly what he was referring to.

"Well, Maria already knows, so he will find out soon enough, anyway," you said, turning back to the closet to grab the hangers. Joel sat up on the edge of the mattress.

"Oh. I didn't know," he said, scratching his beard. "You, uh... does that help? Talkin' about it with another woman?" You could tell he was being careful, trying not to ruin your mood when the day was going so well. You dropped the handful of hangers on the rug next to your shirts before responding.

"We didn't talk about it much, she could just tell, I guess. She said she used to be around a lot of people in my situation when she was a lawyer." You chewed your lip in thought. "Maybe, though. Maybe it does help, a little. I'm not sure yet."

Joel nodded as he rubbed his palms against his legs.

"Good. That's good." He swallowed roughly, looking around the bedroom, then he gestured at the walls.

"We gotta get rid of these pictures, they're awful," and you laughed, looking at what only could be described as hotel art mixed with framed pictures of people you will never know.

"Yeah? And what would Joel Miller pick out to decorate his room, if he didn't hire an interior decorator to do it for him?" you teased, and he pretended to be offended.

"Hey, now. I got good taste," he said as you took a few steps forward to stand in between his legs. You rested your hands on the tops of his shoulders and looked down at him, still sitting on the bare mattress.

"Oh, yeah?" you murmured, fiddling with the collar on his flannel.

"Mhmm," he said, bringing his hands to rest on the back of your thighs, near the backs of your knees, gauging your reaction before giving a gentle squeeze. "You bein' the perfect example of that."

You let out a huff at his corny line and rolled your eyes playfully as he smirked up at you. Neither of you heard Tommy come up the steps and pause outside the door, taking a step back so Joel wouldn't see him. He wasn't used to seeing his brother smile so much, finding it ironic that it took the world to end for Joel to finally be happy. He was about to knock on the door and hand over the sheets when Joel spoke softly.

"I love you, sweetheart," he looked up at you, his eyes bright and his gaze soft. "I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy. Y'know that, right?"

You nodded and leaned forward to plant a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

"I am happy," you whispered. "Stop worrying about me so much."

Tommy quietly placed the sheets on the table in the hallway and crept back downstairs, this time choosing not to intrude.

Joel hummed as he rested the side of his face against your stomach, closing his eyes.

"Always gonna worry about you," he murmured into your shirt.

You raked your fingers through his long curls, scraping your nails gently over his scalp.

"You should worry about getting a haircut," you teased, tugging on his hair so he would lift his head from your stomach.

You took a step back out from between his legs, and he begrudgingly let his hands fall from the backs of your thighs.

"Why don't you go see where those sheets are, and I'll hang up our clothes?"

Joel sighed and braced his hands on his knees before standing up with a grunt. Right before turning to head down the stairs, he noticed the sheets placed on the table, with Tommy nowhere to be found. His brows furrowed before he picked them up and walked back into the room, fluffing out the fitted sheet.

"That was fast," you said, glancing over your shoulder as you hung up your thermal long sleeve shirts in the closet.

"Yeah, Tommy left 'em in the hall. Guess I didn't hear him come up," he explained, pulling the corner tight over the mattress.

"Oh, god," you groaned, and he looked up at you from his spot on the floor next to the bed. "He probably really does think we can't keep our hands off each other."

Joel shrugged and stood to flick the top sheet over the bed, adjusting it as it fluttered down.

"He only said that to get under my skin, try to embarrass me or somethin'. Just ignore it."

You watched him from the closet as he tucked the sheet under one side of the mattress, then the other side, and finished up at the foot of the bed. Before you could even say anything, Joel stopped you.

"Get outta that pretty head of yours, it ain't that serious," he shot you a grin and bent over to unzip the bag around the comforter, shaking it out a bit before tossing it on the bed.

"I don't know. It's kind of serious," you said quietly as you began to rifle through Joel's backpack, lifting all his shirts out and draping them over your arm.

"Why? Who cares what he thinks?" Joel asked, pausing as he was shoving a pillow into a pillowcase to scrunch his eyebrows at you. You flicked your gaze up to him awkwardly before looking back into his bag, then he realized what you meant. You weren't talking about Tommy.

"Oh," he said softly. "Y'know that don't bother me, it's fine."

"I appreciate that, but it's not fine, Joel," you replied, focusing very intently on hanging up his shirts so you wouldn't have to look at him.

"Hey, c'mon, I didn't mean it like that," he abandoned the pillow and strode over to your side of the room, putting his hand on your back. "I just meant that I'm fine with it."

"I know, I'm sorry," you sighed and turned to face him. "I shouldn't have brought it up."

"Nothin' to apologize for," he said as he skimmed his thumb over your lower lip. "Got everythin' I want right here." You rolled your eyes at him, knowing he was just telling you what you wanted to hear, but you weren't going to push it.

"Now, I've been dyin' to sleep on a mattress, my back's killin' me. How about we take a quick nap before dinner?"

"Sure," you said as you helped him shove the last of the pillows into their cases. He collapsed on the bed with a throaty groan of relief and shut his eyes.

"I'm just going to unpack a few more things, then I'll join you," you told him, and he nodded, half asleep already. You grabbed what few toiletries you had and placed them on the counter in the bathroom, then brought your eyes up to look into the mirror. For once, your hair didn't look too frizzy, having pulled it back into a neat ponytail that morning. You noticed the bags under your eyes that you didn't remember looking that heavy before, and your lips were chapped. Definitely a different look from a year ago.

You walked back into the bedroom and slid under the covers on your side of the bed, listening to Joel's heavy breathing and watching the slow rise and fall of his broad chest. You turned your head to stare straight up at the ceiling, sleep escaping you as you replayed your last conversation with Joel over in your mind until it was time for dinner.

After eating, Tommy dragged you both around the dining room to meet the rest of the group. There were about 20 or 25 people you hadn't met yet, and by the end of the introductions, your head was swimming. You weren't sure if it was due to your arrival, or if it was like this every night, but once dinner was cleaned up, the town broke out into informal groups throughout the room, sharing drinks and laughs amongst each other. Tommy slid a glass of whiskey into Joel's hand, and he looked down at it incredulously.

"We got all the essentials here, brother," Tommy clapped Joel's shoulder as he took a sip and nodded towards you. "What'll you have, darlin'?"

"Oh! Uh, I'm fine, thanks. It's been a long day, maybe another time," you replied. Tommy smiled and picked up his own glass of whiskey, clinking his glass against Joel's before taking a sip. He was about to say something when his gaze fixed over your shoulder, and he swallowed nervously. You hid your smile, knowing when you turned around you would find Maria.

"Hey there, how's your first day been? Tommy set you up with everything you need?" Maria asked, sidling up between you and Joel.

"He has now," Joel joked, raising his glass and taking another sip. "Thank you again, ma'am. This place you got here is incredible."

Maria's eyes sparkled with pride as she glanced around the room at the groups of people laughing and smiling.

"We got a long way to go, but I have faith we will get there," she replied. She and Tommy exchanged furtive glances and looked away quickly.

"Maria, why don't we leave these boys to have some alone time, let's go get a drink," Maria smiled excitedly at your suggestion. As you were about to turn away, Joel stopped you.

"Thought you weren't drinkin' tonight?"

"I changed my mind," and you gave him a quick wink before turning and heading further down the bar, finding two empty stools. Jackson had a lot of things, but they were light on the mixers, so you each had vodka on the rocks, wincing as the liquid burned your throat.

"Oof, it's been a long time since I've had anything to drink," you admitted, setting the glass down. Maria nodded, setting hers down as well.

"I don't usually drink too often, but today's a special occasion, so why not," she gave you a warm smile that you quickly returned. You were growing very fond of Maria. You could understand what Tommy saw in her. She was bold, brave, outspoken, honest, and above all else, beautiful.

"So, you're like, the leader here, right?" you began, settling in to learn more about her.

"By default, I suppose. But as the town grows, we will need to figure out a new system. It's already getting to the point where it's difficult for just one person to manage everything. I'm thinking one day of instituting a town council, an odd number of elected people to vote in the town's best interest, oversee any projects and work assignments," she explained as you took another sip of your drink.

It was just then you realized: there were lights on. Actual, honest to goodness, electricity.

"Oh my god," you said, covering your mouth in embarrassment. "I must be exhausted. I can't believe I just noticed you have power running through the town?" She laughed and nodded.

"Yes! And sewage. And plumbing, as of two weeks ago," your mouth dropped as she continued. "There's a dam nearby that we draw the power from to run everything. A few months back - Dan over there," she pointed to a man with brownish hair and a beard who looked to be around Joel's age. "We found him half dead in the mountains. Turned out he used to be a plumber. Once he rested up, he was so eager to help us that he spent every waking minute working on the plumbing for the town so we could have running water. No more bathing in cold streams for us."

You sipped from your glass, the alcohol going down smoother now. You couldn't believe the advancements they have made in just one short year.

You noticed that Maria glanced over your shoulder and tried to hide a smile. You turned in your seat to see Tommy and Joel at the table where you left them, their eyes glued to the pair of you.

"So," you began, and Maria could already tell where you were going with a playful eyeroll. "Tommy?" She took a longer sip from her drink before answering.

"It's nothing official. We just… kissed. A couple times," your eyebrows shot up and a grin spread across your face as she shook her head and waved you off.

"I don't have time for a relationship, I have so much to do around town, I can't commit to someone right now," she explained, casting her eyes down to the glass in her hand.

"Oh, come on. You can't put off a relationship for "the town". Your happiness is just as important as everyone else's," you told her.

She shrugged as she took another sip.

"What if we helped you?" you offered. The vodka was making your brain fuzzy, and you just wanted Maria and Tommy to be happy.

"How?" she asked, mostly sarcastically, but you could tell she was intrigued by your idea.

"Well, what if Joel oversaw all the construction in Jackson. Scheduled the work assignments, prioritized the labor. And maybe Tommy could be in charge of patrols: all the organizing and scheduling." Her eyes shot up to meet yours as she considered your offer.

"That would... free up some time. But that's asking a lot, Joel just got here, and Tommy -" you cut her off.

"Joel's used to it, that's what he did for a living before all," you waved your hands around. "This. He would be happy to help. And Tommy?" You huffed and shot a glance back over your shoulder. "He would do anything for you."

You could tell Maria was embarrassed at the last part, smiling and busying herself with stirring her drink. But she nodded.

"Alright. That's not a bad idea. I'll talk to Tommy in the morning, see if he's ok with it."

"Oh, he'll be ok with it," you laughed as you took another healthy sip from your glass. "I'll tell Joel to find you in the morning and you can explain to him whatever he needs to do. I promise, he'll do it."

She nodded and thanked you, allowing a comfortable silence to come over the two of you as you glanced around the room, absorbing the atmosphere.

"Tell me if I'm out of line," Maria began hesitantly, "but... how are you doing? Do you want to talk about what happened?"

You sighed and met her gaze.

"Thanks. I don't really want to give it any more thought than I already do. I just wish..." you trailed off, but Maria gently encouraged you to continue. "I just wish it didn't affect that part of my relationship. With Joel." You could feel your cheeks flush as you took another sip from your glass for courage.

"Ah," Maria said knowingly, nodding her head. "It's not uncommon. You just need to take your time and do what's best for you on your own terms. Does he... understand that?"

"Oh, yes," you said quickly, and she nodded her head in relief. "Yes, he's... great. He never pressures me, he's even careful about how and where he touches me. I just feel guilty, you know?"

"Yes, I do. You need to listen to yourself and make that decision on your own. Don't do it tonight because you're drinking, either, you’ll regret that," she warned, and you agreed. "If he really understands and he really loves you, he will wait until you're ready."

You smiled and she held up a hand to hover over your own that was resting on the bar.

"May I?" she asked, searching your eyes. You nodded, and she rested her hand on top of yours. You didn't see it, but from across the dining hall, Joel's breath hitched in his throat, seeing Maria touch you, and waited for your reaction, but none came.

"If you ever want to talk, about this, or... anything," Maria said, looking you dead in the eye, "you come to me, is that clear?" You nodded and gave her a smile, relief flooding over you at her touch as she rubbed her thumb reassuringly over the top of your hand. You turned your hand upwards and grasped hers, and she smiled in return.

"And if you ever want to talk, about Tommy, or... anything," you joked, and she giggled. "You come to me! Understand?" She nodded and squeezed your hand affectionately.

"Deal," she said, and you released her hand and grabbed your drinks, clinking the glasses together and finishing what was left in yours.

"Do you want another?" she asked, but you shook your head.

"It's been a long day, I think I will head back to Tommy's," you said, standing up from the stool, slightly unsteady. Lightweight.

"Alright, let me walk you back," she suggested, looping your arm in hers.

"Wait, I need to tell Joel," you said, and pulled her towards the table where he and Tommy sat, talking about Tommy's experience when the outbreak hit.

"I'm gonna head back," you told him, your arm still linked with Maria's. "I'm tired."

"Alright, I'll come with you," he said, flattening his palms against the table to stand, but you held your hand out.

"Why don't you stay with Tommy and catch up? Maria can walk me home," you turned to her with a smile that she returned.

He gave you a knowing look and cleared his throat.

"You sure?" he asked, clearly uneasy about you leaving his sight. You nodded.

"One hundred percent. Stay," you told him firmly, and he sat back down in his chair. "Spend time with your brother." Tommy shot you a grateful smile, but you missed it, trying to assure Joel through your gaze. "It's okay," you added softly, and he slowly nodded.

"I won't be long," he promised, and you waved him off.

"Take as much time as you want, I'm just going to fall asleep the minute I get back." If it wasn't for Joel witnessing your interactions with Maria, he would have insisted on leaving with you.

"Alright, then," Joel said, and you tossed him a wave as Maria pulled you towards the door and down the street.

Joel stumbled into bed a few hours later, trying his best to be quiet and not wake you, but he failed. You turned over as he sunk into the mattress, pulling gently on the covers.

"Have fun?" you mumbled sleepily, and he reached out to you, pulling you up against his chest.

"Yeah, how 'bout you?" he asked, smelling the whiskey on his breath. You nodded.

"Yeah, it was nice," you tucked your head under his chin and buried your face into his bare chest. He ran his hands up and down your back, pressing you against him as you wrapped your arms around his waist.

"Did you talk about me?" you asked him with a smirk he couldn't see.

"Little bit," he admitted, kissing the crown of your head. "Did’ya talk about me?"

"Mhmm," you said, breathing in deeply. "I may have signed you up for a leadership job."

The rubbing on your back paused.

"What?"

You pulled back to look him in the eyes.

"Maria needs the help, Joel," you told him, "I said you could oversee the construction. Not right away, but once you get the hang of things... isn't it what you used to do back at work, anyway?"

He smirked and pulled you back against his chest.

"We been here less than a day and you're already findin' stuff for me to do," he tutted, and you smiled. "Nah, it's fine. If you're happy here, I'll do whatever it takes to keep this place runnin'." He placed another tender kiss on the crown of your head as his hands started back up again.

The alcohol in your system urged you to reach down to his waistband, but Maria's earlier words floated across your mind, and you refrained. Instead, you trailed kisses against his chest that slowly lead up to his throat. He must have been holding his breath because he exhaled heavily when your lips finally reached his Adam's Apple. You made your way to the underside of his jaw when he finally spoke.

"Easy there, sweetheart," he said, his voice strained, and he swallowed when you nipped at his jaw.

"Sorry," you whispered, pulling back. You noticed he purposely was tilting his hips further away from you under the covers. "I just miss you. So much." He groaned.

"Me too. But I need to know you're okay first." He rubbed his thumb in circles against your arm, his pupils blown wide as he gazed down at you. "There's no rush."

You wished nothing more than to give in at that moment, but you knew it would be a mistake. So instead, you tucked your head back under his chin and he pulled you close, his back falling against the mattress as you stretched your arm across his warm chest and nuzzled your face into his neck.

You fell asleep that night wrapped in each other’s arms, the peace of mind of knowing you were finally safe lulled you both into the deepest sleep you've had in months.

Extra Scene

Chapter Nineteen

Tag list: @chiogarza, @sparklejumpropequeen-777, @shotgun-shelby @partyofone3413

[xx-slug-xx]

//tw- antis, sa, death

Some shit I found on Twitter today. The fuck are antis on

When someone dies, it is traumatic. Full stop. Death is the worst fear that we, as people, instinctively have. If someone in our lives dies, it it’s terrifying. Not only is it a reminder of our own mortality, but it’s also heartbreaking to loose someone. Especially when it’s someone close to us. To say that it’s not traumatic because they are gone is absurd. It’s traumatic BECAUSE someone you love is gone. It’s not an “out of sight out of mind” type deal. People don’t suddenly mean nothing if they are dead. And if this anti was referencing how dead people can’t be traumatized by their own death, that’s still fucked up. It’s true, but their death will affect the people around them. And the people who experience attempted murder, and live with the trauma of living with a near death experience? Do they not matter? Should they have died instead of living?

If this is how someone truly feels about death (nonspecific and just generally death), I fully believe that they should seek therapy. This is an abnormal response to loss, and it can be a good indicator of underlying mental health issues that can and will cause further problems for both the people experiencing this sort of feeling and the people around them.

I don’t want the morality police to start saying this type of thing though. It makes their argument even more outlandish imo. If real death means nothing to you, but fictional death does, then what kind of moral stand point is that even supposed to be? And to say that people are better off dead than to live their lives with the experience of trauma is disgusting. Victims of sexual abuse, or anyone who has experienced trauma of any sort, often feel like they should be dead and struggle with suicidal thoughts. I know my own trauma has caused this in me when I was younger. By saying that victims are better off dead helps drive people over the edge. This is abhorrent. And maybe, that’s what they want. Victims deserve to live regardless.

There’s beauty in this world, and we are here too see it and to create more of that beauty for others. Nobody is better off dead because of the things in our lives that were out of our hands.

As a csa survivor myself, yes, my trauma is life long and will always affect me to some degree. However, I’ve grown past it. I’m more than my trauma, and so is every other victim out there. It’s important to my growth as a person and my experiences. But it doesn’t define my whole life. I won’t give my trauma the right to dictate who I am or how I behave. I’m not an animal that needs to be put out of my misery because of what I went through. Death is not a better option to living with past trauma

[aceandurmom]

Harlequin Hearts: The Archivist's Swordmaster Affair Chapter Five

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ONLY ON TUMBLR UNDER ACEANDURMOM//////////////////

TRIGGER WARNING: Toxic Relationship, Referenced SA

Waking up, your eyes darted across the room. Desperately, you searched for the cause of why you awoke at such an hour. With a quick glance to the window, the sun had yet to rise. The feeling of someone watching was causing chills to form on the back of your neck. 

Trying to remain as calm as possible, you sucked in a breath before laying back down. Appearing as if you were to go back to sleep so you could lure out whoever was out there. A shifting caught your attention, grabbing the pistol form under the pillow, you armed yourself and pointed where the sound had come from. A chuckle sounded from the depths of your room, but the unease remained. 

You knew the voice, had been hearing it everyday for years now. 

But this was the first time he had made his way to your room, especially in the dead of night. 

Rising, you went to make yourself presentable, only to be stopped in the process. The fishman approached, pushing you by the shoulders to that you fell back to the mattress. 

Eyes expecting, you had tried to question him. 

“Quiet. I have something to say to you.”

You had stilled, not wanting to disappoint. You only prayed the message was some kind of raise and nothing degrading. 

“You impressed me today. I didn’t think you would be able to do it, little minnow.”

A pause.

“You proved me wrong.”

The shark came forward, eyes angry. 

“I hate being wrong.”

A shudder swept through your body, freezing you in your place. You had upset him, not at all meaning to or your intention-

His webbed hand drew closer, delicately swiping away the tear you had been unaware even existed. 

Your breath hitched, aware of what Arlong did when he was angry. 

“But.”

Arlong dropped to one knee in order to meet your gaze. 

“I guess I’ll have to deal with it when it comes to you. So eager-”

His hand fell from your face, a cruel grin forming, teeth glimmering in the dark. 

He stepped closer, arms pushing you further down. His face all of a sudden right in front of yours, his strong arm flying in the corner of your eyes-

He flung his hat to the depths of the room, the dark concealing its existence. 

You were scared, not at all pleased with how he kept on approaching you. Feeling vulnerable, you tried to keep him in place, hands pressing against his chest to stop his descent. 

He scowled, not pleased. 

And what was a small human like you to do against a monster like him?

–

Waking up from the memory, you thrashed against the constraints of the duvet. Breathing heavily, you tried to push the past away, trying to repress it once more into the back of your mind. But Arlong had never been the one to ignore. And so the thought came back with a vengeance, throwing you back into the uncomfortable night. Growing colder and sick at the remembrance, your feet led you to the door. Hand hesitating in the handle, you tried to think of where to go, who to seek comfort in. 

And then you remembered a week ago, the moment shared with Mihawk. 

Ever since then, he had continuously been by your side, always offering a presence to be apparent in everyone’s field of view. If he was to be busy, he had insisted Crocodile to be there in his stead. 

Reluctantly, but not once complaining, the reptile had agreed. 

And Buggy had been all too happy to have them do so for his peace of mind. At least until he had deemed it unnecessary for them to do so. 

Mihawk was the one you had leaned on most in the days following. So, you thought it wouldn’t hurt to bother him now. After all, he had been the one to insist if you had a problem to approach him. 

Determined, your hand stopped its shaking. Turning the doorknob, you pushed the wood open. The cold air of night flew to your face immediately, seeming to freeze the spilling tears that had been dropping for a minute now. Scoffing at yourself, you realized how much of a crybaby you had been recently. Maybe Buggy would notice and decide you would be better somewhere else. 

The thought only brought more despair. The hiccup from the depth of your throat hadn’t been expected, nor one you could stop in time. The sound felt like it reverberated in the halls, heard from even outside the tent. 

Sucking up your tears, you fled from your doorway and down the halls, yearning for someone to share your burdens with. 

Approaching the wine red door, you had gone to knock before pulling back your hand. 

What the hell were you doing, going so late at night to wake up one of the leaders of the Cross Guild!? You were grown, you should be over this bullshit by now! 

But your appearance had already been noticed. 

Because of course it had, Mihawk wasn’t an amateaur with Observatin, it just wasn’t his most developed. But you were just outside of his room, a place that was way too close to him not to be unaware of. So he had stepped out of bed, thrown on a robe, and waited for you to gain the courage to knock. 

Unable to simply walk away now, you had conceded. 

Dracule had answered almost immediately, the door swiftly opening in a matter of seconds. The man of the hour appeared in its absence, his body seeming to glow in the light of the candles lit behind him. His silhouette was enchanting, drawing you in ever closer. 

Mihawk cleared his throat, drawing back your attention. 

Head hipping to face him, the swordsman recognized the telltale signs of your current state. 

The tear stains were there, even though you were no longer actively crying. The whites of your eyes were bloodshot, and the wobbling lips were only more damning. Sighing in defeat, Mihawk opened his door wider. Reaching out, the ravenette drew you into his domain. 

Once inside and behind the closed door, Dracule enclosed your weary body in a firm embrace, softly drawing patterns on your back. 

Voice quiet, he moved the two of you to the side of his bed. He sat, holding you still. 

“What happened, little rabbit?”

“Just a nightmare.”

“Nightmare or something you would have preferred to forget?”

He was so gentle, voice bordering on a murmur that you could barely comprehend. The deep timbre rumbling his chest so that you could hear it. Head tucked under his chin, you closed your eyes for a moment, trying to collect yourself. 

“I forgot where I was. It was as if I was back there.”

An understanding hum escaped him. 

“It seems as though your recent encounter has brought you more distress than originally thought.”

Chuckling, you had to agree. Even when he was trying to be soft, he was so put together. 

“It would appear so. I imagined I had gotten past all of this.”

One of his arms broke free from his embrace, coming up to gently card his fingers through your hair. 

“Trauma comes back into the most unexpected of ways, my dear. It does not mean you are weak to experience it.”

“I feel like a child afraid of a monster that isn’t there.”

His chin plopped on top of your head, starting to softly rock the two of you.

“But he was.”

You paused, taking in what he had been saying. 

“He is dead now.”

“Say his name.”

“...why?”

Your voice was small, not wanting to do so. Mihawk had frowned, hearing the broken child Arlong had left behind. If the man was still alive, Dracule would have drawn out his death far longer than whatever Strawhat had. 

“I wish for you to accept it. He is dead, and he will not hurt you even if you speak ill of him.”

You didn’t respond, struggling to come to terms of such a request. You unintentionally drew in to yourself, curling up. 

“It was like he was untouchable. I think….I think I thought of him as a vengeful deity. I wanted to please him but I was terrified.”

It was hard to explain. 

But you didn’t have to. 

“I understand.”

And wasn’t that the only thing you needed? 

–

Arlong moved further, hand caressing your own before trailing up your arm. 

To your shoulder. 

To your neck. 

A breath of air escaped from your mouth. Water pooling in your eyes. 

Arlong noticed, grin crawling up even further up his face. 

“Scared, minnow?”

The question was airy, said more in a statement rather than a question. 

His dark hair fell from behind his shoulders, draping around your own face. 

He watched your face, trying to pick out what made you the most uncomfortable. 

His webbed fingers left your neck, slowly circling around your throat, holding you in place. You tried to ignore the hand, tried to look him in the eyes to show you weren’t afraid.

“So cute how you try to be tough,  I can feel your pulse, here-”

He pushed his thumb against your artery. 

“But what if…”

He removed his hand, drifting down to your chest. He brushed against the flesh there, watching as your breathing grew uneven. You closed your eyes, willing yourself away from here, any place away from Arlong. 

He chuckled low in his throat. 

Teeth shining threateningly. He backed away from you, completely removing himself from your personal space. 

“How fun. Do not ever disobey me.”

You nodded frantically, eyes closed tight.

He left, steps heavy in his departure. 

“Not here, not here-”

A sob escaped before Arlong fully made it out of your side of the hall. You heard him laugh, a cruel and evil sound that made you shudder. 

And continued to repeat your mantra. 

Until the morning came, the sun creeping over the horizon. You wanted to leave. 

But you go out of bed on shaky legs, stumbling through the room like a newborn faun. Finally dressed, you made your way to your office. And Arlong hunted you down, already a list made for your tasks for the day. 

And so it went. 

-

You spent the night clinging to the man, hungry for the peace of mind he gave you.You had finally fell back to sleep, only to wake up to the blinding sun assaulting every one of your senses. 

Mihawk was already awake, or maybe he didn’t sleep, and was witnessing you in all of your glory. 

Eyes shutting once more, you tried to dig deeper into the comforter, burying yourself into Dracule���s chest. You felt the rumble of what may have been a laugh, the swordsman apparently amused at your defiance to the world itself. 

“It is time for the day to start, mi paloma.”

You could hear the adoration even under the blanket, unable to push away the warmth rising to your face. There was no embarrassment that you felt, just flustered at the new kind of attention being received. It was different compared to what Arlong made you feel, the strange flutter in your stomach was usually anxiety…this was completely new to you. 

It was a good kind of new though. 

Dracule moved the blanket, slowly pushing it away so that you were gradually revealed to the world. Blinking, you grew used to the sun trying to blind you. You made out the figure of Dracule, tenderly smiling in the sun. 

Dear Nika, he was beautiful. 

“There you are, Star.”

Eyes wide, you tried to ignore the feeling that continues to swell in your chest. The endearment from Buggy was familiar, but when Dracule said it…there was something else. 

“Did you have any more nightmares?”

“None that were as bad as the first one.”

His golden eyes felt like they were staring through you, pure curiosity in his gaze. Sensing the lie, he tried to gently pry. 

His hand cupped your cheek, directing you to look at him. 

“Would you like to talk about it more, it may make you feel better.”

You shook your head, feeling much better compared to last night. 

And then the calm morning was destroyed by your beloved captain. 

“STAR!?”

The bluenette screamed. The clown was loud but this was impressive. His room was right next to yours, put there so he could help in case something went awry. He must have been concerned since you weren’t in your office. That alone told you how late in the morning it must be, usually you were there before any of the other three. 

Groaning, you shot Mihawk an apologetic look before rising. He nodded, normal scowl resurfacing on his pretty face. 

Before you could leave the room, your hand was caught. Turning to see what was the issue, you were met with the sight of Dracule reaching from the bed tos top you. He tugged you over, placing a light kiss on your knuckles. 

“I will meet you in the conference room in a moment.”

“Alright, I’ll calm down Bugs.”

“You do a wonderful job at it.”

And so you left the room with a blush decorating your cheekbones. 

Racing from the door, you ran through the plaid halls to meet your panicking captain. 

“STAR!?”

Your form finally comprehended in his mind, his body parts flying to you in hysteria. 

His hands cupped your face, turning you every which way to check for any injuries. 

“What happened, who touched you, did someone go into your room again, what-!”

Catching his disembodied hands, you reattached his limbs to his arms. 

“I just had a nightmare, Sir.”

He stopped, a concerned look falling into place.

“You should have woke me up, I would have made sure you were okay.”

Your heart stuttered, the kindness in his gesture catching you off guard. 

“I don’t know why you look so surprised. Your my sibling, dumbass. I worry about you. What was it about?”

You winced. 

“It was…”

You thought of what you had discussed with Dracule, contemplating the logistics of such. 

“Arlong. It was about my time with Arlong.”

Buggy choked on his spit, not expecting you to say it so straightforward. You normally darted around the topic, trying to distract from the topic at hand. 

“I-uh,.”

Shaking his head, Buggy steeled himself. 

“Who did you go to? Or did you go somewhere by yourself?”

He was back to fretting, the very thing you wanted to avoid. 

“I may or may not have gone to wake someone up.”

“Who.”

He went back to being a captain, knowing that you would never not answer him when he was serious. 

“Mihawk.”

He nodded before sitting there, frozen. 

“What.”

The office was dull, the bright colors no longer as vibrant as they used to be. The paint had slowly started to fade, and as soon as Buggy stepped in he had made a huge deal over it. He rushed around, frantically yelling orders for his crew of builders and sampling paint. Once he left, another man made his way into the room, just as he said he would. 

“Little rabbit, you’ve already caused quite a stir.”

You laughed, shaking your head at him. 

“My brother does that by himself, Dracule.”

He breathed in through his nose, eyes closed. You didn’t expect his approach, quick and silent. 

Swiftly, he turned you around to face him before gently pushing you against the desk you often overworked yourself on. You gasped, not expecting the sudden movement. 

He leaned in, nose brushing your own. 

“I crave you in a way I have not for a long long time. I wish for you to be pressed to me every moment we part.”

His spoke into your mouth, lips finally pressing harshly against your own. 

For a man so kind and gentle, he was incredibly passionate. 

Breaking apart, he studied your face before pressing his forehead against yours. 

“I hope I am not scaring you off. If this is too much I would understand. I can dim it down.”

You shook your head vehemently, not at all bothered by the man’s advances. 

You reached out, hand brushing along his neck. You threaded your fingers through his hair, lightly tugging him in your direction. Getting the hint, he kissed you again. 

His hands wrapped around your thighs, swiftly picking you up and depositing you onto the surface of the desk you were previously pressed against. 

He spread your legs, stepping between them so he could be closer. Dracule’s tongue darted past his lips, lapping at the seam of your own. You allowed him to do as he pleased, eagerly allowing him to slide his tongue into your mouth. He traced your tongue with his before pulling back. Your mixed saliva connected the both of you for a moment longer, trying to reconnect, you were pushed away. Confused, you had reached out to him, but he stepped away further, pressing a finger to your lips to hush you. 

“Shh, my dear. There is someone coming this way.”

And right he was, as Sir Crocodile sauntered across the hall. 

Once the man saw the state you were in, the Swordsman tried to tidy you up. Brushing the spit away from your chin with his thumb, he placed a chaste kiss to your lips in an apology. 

“Later, mi amor.”

And he left.

[megyulmi]

➠ Sukuna, the ‘shunned’ child and the demonisation and worship of ‘unwanted’ children in Japanese folklore:

[long read. trigger warning: referenced folktales and practices depict themes of infanticide, religious rituals and child exorcism, demonisation and worship of children, ableism, suicide, implied sa, and period-typical outdated social views. they are not a representation of my personal beliefs. please read with caution.]

New revelations of Sukuna’s past in Chapter 257 made me look deeper into some of the tales and customs from Japanese folklore about children deemed ‘abominable’ in the eyes of society that I had previously noted down and I decided to share as I think they could offer a better insight into Sukuna as a character and what might have inspired Akutami Gege’s depiction of him.

It would be better to start with a bit of the social background of Japanese folklore. I will use the Emishi (an ancient ethnic group of people who lived in parts of Honshū, especially in the Tōhoku region) as an example, the oral tales of whom later blended with Shintō and Buddhist religious concepts and heavily influenced Japanese folklore. It is believed that many of their tales were shaped by the region’s difficult history of natural disasters, famines, and geographic isolation. In the Tōhoku region, infanticide was sometimes used as a form of ‘birth control’ due to repeated famines. The bodies of ‘unwanted children’ were often disposed of in rivers or lakes.

Another important source of such folklore is the city of Tōno in Iwate prefecture, known particularly for Kappa, tales of which could offer a good basis for the beginning of my intended analysis.

Kappa, a green, amphibious, child-like creature with a yellow beak for a mouth and a turtle shell on its back is one of the most popular Yōkai from Japanese folklore. Some researchers say that the darker aspects of Kappa tales in Tōhoku may be an echo of the region’s tragic history of famines and the high rates of infant mortality caused by a harsh climate, natural disasters, and the tax system that was paid in rice. Similarly, many people in Tōno (which is part of the Tōhoku region) believe that tragic history is one of the origins of the stories of Kappa. The Kappa of Tōno specifically are said to be red in colour rather than green, which may allude to the Japanese word for infant - akachan, which derives from aka, the word for red. From this perspective, Kappa are creatures born out of social challenges and disasters. They may not seem all too relevant to Sukuna, but the need to mention them will come up in the later part.

Moving on, at the beginning I mentioned that ‘unwanted children’ were often disposed of in the rivers and lakes, which is also found in the Japanese creation myth. I discussed the variations of the myth in this post about Sukuna previously (you do not need to read it for the moment, but please note that it has many variations), but somehow I did not mention their first ‘inadequate’ child. According to the myth, before they had Kagutsuchi, Izanagi and Izanami had a child as a result of their first attempt at a union, but the child, known as Hiruko (‘Leech Child’), was born deformed. The mistake was attributed to a ritual error on the part of Izanami, who, as a woman, should never have spoken first (i.e. initiated the union). Considering the child inadequate for a diety, they set him adrift in a boat in hopes he would die at the sea. This myth reflects how women and children who were born ‘different’ or seen unable to serve their ‘purpose’ were treated.

Continuing from the myth, Chapter 257 made me think of the tale of Katako, in which the protagonist is born half-human and half-oni. What is Sukuna’s true nature we cannot know for certain. We know he was a human once, but we do not know enough of his past to assume if there was more to him (how and why he as a human might have come to be called the King of Curses will be explained in the later part), but the tale still has the potential to give us insight into Sukuna and his mother’s relationship. The tale has various versions with different endings, but it generally could be summarised as follows:

[A long time ago, a man encountered a man-eating ogre (from here on referred to as oni) while working in the field. He told the oni how much he loved mochi (rice cake), jokingly adding that he could even trade his wife for it. Taking his casual banter seriously, the oni treated him to mochi. The man ate his favourite food to his fill and happily went home only to find that the oni had taken his wife in exchange for the treat. The man searched everywhere and finally found his wife on the island where the oni lived. The man and his wife managed to come back home with Katako (meaning ‘Half-Child’), a child born of his wife and the oni on the island. However, Katako was always ostracised by his human peers (in another version, it is said that he had an insatiable appetite for eating humans). At ten years old, tired of being ridiculed, he asked his mother ‘to cut the oni part of him into pieces’ when he died, and then committed suicide.]

In the tale, Katako’s relationship with his mother seems to be of trust. He is cast out of society by humans and despite his mother being one as well, he does not harbour hate for her, he trusts her enough to leave his final wish upon her. We do not know much about Sukuna’s relationship with his mother, but the manner he referred to her in the last chapter makes it seem that he also harbours no hostility toward her. This tale also shows how children deemed ‘different’ were treated.

In past ages, children, being considered closer to the gods and the Other World, also played the part of intermediary between humans and the gods in Japanese society. This task of mediation between two separate worlds fell to them because they were regarded as incomplete persons (until the age of seven it was considered uncertain whether they would live or return to the Other World: a belief related to the challenges indicated at the beginning). While considered sacred beings different in nature from adults, they were at the same time looked down upon and referred to as kodomo (where ~domo has a negative/belittling connotation), gaki (hungry ghost or demon; brat), or jari (lit. gravel).

Back in the day, people referred to the killing off of ‘unwanted children’ (mabiki or ‘culling’, a common old slang for infanticide) as ‘sending a child back’, and a dead child was given a special non-Buddhist funeral. The various rituals surrounding birth and the child’s upbringing were intended, through communication with the Other World, to transform the child into an earthly being. This aspect of the ritual made me think of Sukuna’s mask and how that part of his face resembles a burn scar (note: i am aware the nature of his ‘mask’ is still not clear and whether it is really one) in some of the official illustrations. It is known that rituals of purification included fire and water magic. Exorcism of demons, aversion of disasters, and other rituals for the removal of pollution were frequent. A katashiro (paper cut in the shape of a man) symbolising the disaster would be burned or floated down the river as well. Personally, I see the possibility of Sukuna’s scar (if it really happens to be one) being from one of such rituals. At the same time, it resembles a fragment of a wooden mask used in ceremonial rituals associated with Shintoism, where it represented a ‘spirit of a head,’ which was believed to be a god in the shape of a human. In this case, it can be a remnant of such ceremonial ritual gone wrong.

Continuing, there is a term - Goryō used to refer to the spirits of those who had died violently (e.g. by murder or execution) and have become gods. It also included those who had died untimely deaths and therefore had been unable to fulfil their purpose in this world. Some notable gods such as Hachiman, Tenjin, and Tenno were once considered powerful Goryō. Great natural disasters and social unrest were attributed to them; rituals designed to appease them were performed, and a cult of such worship evolved. It was (usually) as a result of belief in Goryō that particular individuals came to be worshipped as gods. At times when public unrest threatened the social order, elements estranged or excluded from the ‘normal system/order’ were assigned the status of Goryō and worshipped as such. The cult was intended to purify and renew society. Manga has given us a similar glimpse of Sukuna’s past, where despite being feared (and despised), people were ready to serve him (and pray in his name) for their own well-being. I think Akutami intended to echo this very aspect of society through the scene.

I mentioned that children were considered closer to the gods and the Other World, but not all children were treated equally. One version of the origin of Kamadogami (additional post on the parallels between Sukuna and Kamadogami after Chapter 258) in the Tōhoku region is that he was an ‘ugly child’ from the Dragon Palace who had been killed and was thereafter worshipped at household hearths. Zashikiwarashi, who often inhabits old houses and is said to bring good fortune while he remains, is another household god in the shape of a child or, in another version, the spirit of an unwanted child who, having been killed off, became the guardian god of houses. I mentioned Hiruko at the beginning as well, who was set afloat on the boat in the sea. Despite that, he is in some Shintō shrines identified with Ebisu, the patron of fishermen and tradesmen. Their worship was for the purposes indicated in the previous abstract, to avoid their wrath. Sukuna has not been ‘killed off’ like these children were, but such worship shows us the general psyche of the public.

The ‘ugly child’ who appears in the story of the origin of Kamadogami has parallels in Yokenai, Untoku, Hyotoku, and Hanatarekozo, children who brought good fortune and prosperity to the house in return for offerings to the Watery World of kadomatsu (pine-branch gate decorations for the New Year) and firewood. But despite that, their ‘ugliness’ and names were used as an indication that these children did not belong to this world. It is important to note that socially inferior and rebellious beings were treated in the same manner (here is where the point connects to Sukuna, continued from the next part in depth). Such children were often associated with the colour red. For example, Zashikiwarashi is described as red-haired and red-faced. Kintaro, Shutendoji, and other children born in unusual circumstances (but may not have been considered an ‘ugly child’) and brought up in the mountain wilderness are also said to have had red bodies and were endowed with superhuman strength. I also mentioned that Kappa from Tōno were depicted as red. We see Sukuna often associated with the colour red, particularly, his eyes are red. I believe the above-mentioned could be the reason for that.

I indicated that socially inferior and rebellious beings were treated similarly in the previous part. The character Dō of Dōji (童子, meaning child) once meant ‘slave’, tattooed on the forehead, and was closely linked to notions of personal status. It signified one who was not a complete person and also one who had not yet been initiated, in other words, one who did not belong to the order of this world, one who was in this world but not of it. They were despised, feared, and avoided by ordinary people for their strange appearance and magical powers. In some cases they even formed separate ‘child’ villages (dōji mura), calling themselves ‘descendants of oni (demons)’. Since they played the role of demons during the rituals, they were shunned by the nobility as if they were real demons. Could this somehow connect to Sukuna’s title? I do believe there is a possibility this could have inspired his being as the King of Curses.

Personally, what we know of Sukuna and his past seems to echo these folktales and practices as the foundation of his character. He was a ‘Demon’ for being an ‘abominable’ child, but he was worshipped for this same reason as well. Whether he was born that way after eating his twin in the womb or something happened to him later in life cannot be known yet, but it is clear his ‘abominable’ appearance could have warranted the same treatment from society. It could also explain Kenjaku’s ‘fascination’ with him as a being. We do not know what relationship they had or how exactly they came to know each other, but there is clearly a reason why a being such as Sukuna would ‘work’ with them. We do not know much about Kenjaku either, but it could be possible that they (Kenjaku) once were either (1) one of those ‘priests’ who performed exorcism to purify ‘demon’ children or (2) someone who offered such children refuge (perhaps and more likely, for their own personal gain). It would also relate to the variations of Ryomen Sukuna’s story that inspired Akutami Gege.

[Disclaimer: This post does not intend to demonise Shintoism or Buddhism, but to tell folklore and practices for analytical purposes. Additionally, English is not my native language and this is only a personal interpretation as just another reader that I am sharing in case someone finds it interesting or can use the information for better analysis.]

[hamiltonconfessions-but-better]

TW!!

I know it’s not how it happened in real life, but exclusive to the canon of Hamilton and pretending nothing else happened and that it’s not biased. Say No To This is an SA song.

NOW HEAR ME OUT

I do NOT care that Maria was younger than him, first of all perpetrators come in all ages.

Second of all I don’t care that Maria was put up to it by James!

In the musical, Alexander does not actually ever say yes to Maria until the LAST FEW LINES. I’m aware that it’s referenced that they continue to do this, so my point is more about the first time. Alex does not say yes ONCE. He does not want to cheat on Eliza at first and he simply just does not know how he’s supposed to say no in that situation. (Personally, that hit me hard as a victim.)

I do believe that the rest of the times were consensual but the point begins that their relationship starts and is therefore built off of Maria assaulting him. So therefore I don’t think Alexander (in the musical) should be held entirely at fault for this. He was outright forced the first time and I’m sure there was pressure to say yes the rest of the time. Granted he did keep going back and admits to becoming a past time.

My final point of evidence? Guilt. The way they generally portray his mood at the end of the sentence. Cheaters do not feel that kind of guilt. He is generally depicted as numb or seconds away from tears and that is NOT the reaction that would be provoked from cheating. Maybe you feel guilty, yes, but it’s more of an “oh my gosh I messed up” not an in tears just at the thought of those interactions. Also at the end, when he’s talking to Eliza is It’s Quiet Uptown, he says he would literally trade his life for Phillips because Eliza would be happier. He is very aware of how he’s hurt Eliza in a way that most cheaters I’ve heard of just can’t seem to comprehend, leading me to believe that his self awareness is due to some guilt he feels that because of this he doesn’t deserve to be alive for hurting Eliza, not realizing that he is a victim in this situation and desperately trying to get that point across to her.

Again, IRL? Alexander is at fault. He agreed to cheat on Eliza and continued to do so. But it’s different in the musical. Mostly due to the way Lin wrote Alex to be more of a self insert and possibly due to the musical being from Eliza’s perspective. Still my point stands that this is the way the scandal is portrayed and therefore I believe that Alexander Hamilton (FROM THE MUSICAL) is male SA representation.

(My god that got long, my bad guys 🤷‍♂️)

.

[thevegandarkelf]

Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter One

Masterlist

AO3 link

Lydia Vector is a trauma surgeon trying to find herself again after a traumatic incident--on top of surviving the zombie apocalypse. Along the way, she finds community, friendship, and maybe something more.

Story is 18+ for mature content/themes, minors do not interact please

TW/CWs for this story--implied/referenced past rape, canonical violence, non-canonical violence, blood, gore, referenced past suicide, swearing, surgery, excessive drinking, nightmares, vomiting, amputation, medical procedures, non-con medical procedures, referenced past medical torture, referenced past drugging, attempted SA, panic attacks, mental health struggles, referenced sibling death, referenced parent death

Each chapter will have its own TW/CWs listed

This story, Lydia Vector, her family & bestie (c) me, TheVeganDarkElf

TWD & its characters (c) AMC & Robert Kirkman, the writer of the comic series

TW/CWs for this chapter--blood, violence, amputation, swearing

“Lydia Rae Vector, Board-Certified in Trauma Surgery!”

The grin that spread across my face caused my cheeks to ache. I looked out and saw my parents and brothers, who fought like hell for their front-row seats to witness their only daughter and sister receive her certification. This was the moment I had worked my entire life for.

My residency was complete. And my boards had been passed. I was officially a surgeon.

The “waterproof” mascara I had spent my last $20 on ran and flaked into my eye, causing it to water more. I take my certificate from the officiator, shake his hand, and look out to the audience once again.

And I see him. Every single time, I see him.

A man stumbling down the center aisle, appearing drunk and disorderly, but he’s covered in blood, and his skin is bluish-grey. Decomposition has clearly already started. That was evident by both the open wounds on his body and the putrid stench that accompanied him. And the rest always happens the exact same way.

The crowd notices him, and slowly, the entire auditorium falls silent. Security starts to come around from the emergency exits, but before they can get to him, the man has made his way to the front row.

And he attacks my mother.

Her screams, the screams of my father and brothers, the screams of the audience and the screams coming from my own throat haunt me. He rips her vocal cords out with one swift bite, and her screams cease as quickly as they began.

And this is always where my nightmare ends.

I wake up in a cold sweat, nothing unusual there. I throw myself upwards, letting out a small yelp and feeling all over myself with my hands, checking for wounds and blood. My mornings went exactly the same way.

Every. single. time.

The small shed I had spent the night in looked even dustier during the day. I used my hands to prop myself up off of the floor and and pulled my backpack, which was my pillow every night, out from behind me. Scooting slightly to my left to get out of the blinding sun coming in through the window, I unzipped it and went through the checklist that I always do, making sure every weapon I had was still in its place.

“Axe, knife, guns, spear,” I said out loud, pulling one of the small guns and the collapsible spear out and setting them on the ground next to me. Checking that the safety was still on for both guns, I checked for my other items. Nothing had ever been stolen from me in the night, but you couldn’t be too careful.

“Journal, water bottle, clothes, food, tools, gauze, lighter, bandages, disinfectant, sewing kit, pills, and my most unique weapon.” Once everything was accounted for, I took the blanket I had been using and folded it as best as I could, stuffing it in on top of everything. I slipped my water bottle out and took the smallest sip, just enough to get rid of my cotton mouth and dry throat. I slipped the gun I left on the floor into the strap on my leg and extended my spear, getting up off of the ground and dusting myself off.

I paused for a moment and listened to the birds chirping outside. I wonder what they were saying to each other, I thought to myself. They seem happy. Of course they did. They don’t have to live through the end of the world in the same way humans do.

My reveling in listening to bird calls was quickly interrupted by the sound of a scream. A human scream. And Walker groans.

I swung my backpack onto my shoulders and jumped to the corner next to the door. I lifted my head slowly, just enough for my eyes to enter the window frame.

There was a man, probably around my age, on the ground, and three Walkers surrounding him. I could see that he had lost his knife in the scuffle, and I imagine he was hesitant to use a gun because he didn’t want to attract more of the reanimated corpses. I readied my spear, took a deep breath, and kicked the door open in one fell swoop.

“Aye motherfuckers!” I yelled, drawing the attention of all three Walkers towards me. I skipped backwards, away from the man, putting a little more distance between myself & the undead. I swung my spear and stabbed the closest one right between the eyes, pulling it out and watching the heap fall to the ground. The other two went down similarly. I paused for a moment, perking up my ears and listening to make sure no others were coming.

Once it was clear, I ran to the man. He was still on the ground, groaning in pain. That’s when I saw the bite on his ankle. My heart sank. But I knew what I needed to do. I ran and kneeled down next to him.

“Hey, what’s your name man?” I said to him, trying to keep my voice as calm as possible. I saw a small glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“A-A-Aaron,” he said, gritting his teeth through the pain.

“Alright Aaron, my name is Vector. I’m a doctor, and I can save you, but we gotta get you inside that shed right there. Can you sit up?” He nodded and used his arms to pull himself into a sitting position. I got up on my feet and put an arm around his back, under his arms.

“Alright Aaron, let’s get you on your feet,” I told him, and I saw him nod out of the corner of my eye. He put his body weight onto his right foot & onto me, and we slowly stood up together. Thankfully, the shed was right by us. I got him through the door and helped him back down onto the floor. Once he was on his back, I moved like lightning to get out my small axe, disinfectant, lighter, bandages, gauze, and two of my shirts, one with long sleeves and a small one.

“Aaron, you probably know where this is going, but I’m going to have to cut your foot off. And then I’m going to cauterize your wound so it hopefully won’t get infected,” I said between inhales, taking the my smaller shirt and tying it into a knot to form a gag. We couldn’t have him attracting any more Walkers. “I need you to take this and bite down as hard as you can. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes…” Aaron said. I saw a couple of tears leave his eyes. He put the knotted shirt into his mouth, laying his head back onto the dirty floor. I poured a small amount of disinfectant onto my axe and onto his leg, just above the bite mark. Some of the disinfectant ran into the wound, and he writhed in pain.

“Alright.” I looked over at him, meeting his eyes, “I need you to stay completely still. Bite down as hard as you possibly can. You got this my man.” He squeezed his eyes shut. I raised the axe up, lining it up with where I was going to make my mark.

“I’m so sorry Aaron,” I whispered, swinging the axe down as hard as I could. Thankfully, his foot and ankle came off with one hit. His blood sprayed across the shed, getting onto the walls and all over both of us.

Despite the muffling of the shirt, his screaming was loud. The tears were flowing. And so was the blood. I grabbed my lighter with my right hand and grabbed Aaron’s hand with my left one, squeezing it to remind him he wasn’t alone.

“I’m going to cauterize it next. This pain is probably going to be worse, but I know you can do this. Just keep breathing through your nose and squeeze my hand when you need to,” I told him. He didn’t nod or acknowledge what I said in any way, but I had to keep moving to stop the bleeding. I flicked on my lighter and held it to his open wound, gliding it back and forth across the whole area. I did this for a couple of minutes to ensure the whole area had been cauterized. For Aaron, I’m sure it felt like hours. He squeezed my hand so hard that I was sure he was going to break it. His muffled screams were the only sound I heard.

“You’re doing great bud,” I spoke softly, “I have padding and gauze that I’m going to put onto it next, then I’m going to wrap it in one of my shirts. Keep biting onto that one for as long as you need.” This time, he opened his eyes, which were bright red from crying, and nodded. I took a couple of pads and pressed them to his leg, holding them in place while I started the gauze wrapping.

“I’m sorry I don’t have an ice pack or anything to help with the burning,” I said. He spat my shirt onto the ground and let out a small chuckle.

“Sorry? You just saved my life.” I took my long-sleeved plaid button-up and wrapped his leg in it, using the sleeves to tie it around his calf. He was still hyperventilating a little.

“Just rest for right now,” I instructed, “once you’re doing a little better, I’ll help you get back to your home base.” He tried to pull himself up to a sitting position, but I lightly pressed on his shoulders to let him know to lay back down, “Stay like that. Just focus on your breathing. I have some water, and I have food if you’re hungry.”

“What did you say your name was?” he asked me. I pulled my water bottle, which was about half-full, out of my bag.

“Vector,” I repeated. I scooted over to him and helped him lift his head enough to sip some water without choking on it. I took my knotted shirt and unknotted it, giving to him to wipe the tears and water off of his face. He rotated his head and looked up at me.

“Vector, why did you help me?” he asked, “you could’ve just killed me, saved your resources. Or taken my stuff and ran.” I squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.

“I took an oath,” I explained, “I’m a doctor. This is what I do.”

“How can I—“ a cough stopped him mid-sentence, “repay you? I can get you food, water, supplies. I have a community. Just say the word and whatever you want is yours.” I leaned back and grabbed my spear, which I had dropped on the way in, and collapsed it fully, rolling back and forth on the floor between my hands.

“Honestly, I could just use directions to a certain place, I must be close to it by now. I’m looking for a safe zone, it’s called—“

“Alexandria.”

I cocked my head at him, my words catching in my mouth and my facial expression displaying my shock. “How did you know that?”

“It’s the only one around here. We’re only a couple miles out” he laughed. Despite my protests earlier, he used his upper body to pull himself up into a sitting position, leaning back against some boxes, “I’m actually from there. I’m a recruiter. I go out with my partner Eric, and we search for survivors, like yourself, and see who would make useful additions to our community. And hell, we could definitely use you.”

I couldn’t believe my luck.

“I’ve been looking for Alexandria for months.”

[writing-oof]

lucky

TW: Implied/referenced SA, Past SA, Pregnancy mention, implied abortion

You wish you were angry.

It's so, so much harder being scared.

---

The ship crashes before anything can change.

(or: anya tells daisuke about jimmy. then, the ship crashes.)

(or: or: this game has grabbed me by the throat. ur welcome)

Alt Day of @ailesswhumptober "If you weren't around, I'd be long dead by now."

[corinthianism]

labyrinth | peter parker

pairing: peter parker (andrew garfield)/gn!reader additional tags: fluff, meet cute warnings: referenced character death (gwen), angst

summary: peter finds love again nearly a decade since gwen's death. note: this is like. a brain fart. i barely proofread this so like i'm just gonna HOPE it's not complete ass. happy reading!

The air was already biting cold in November. Peter had been sitting on the same bench for about an hour now, orange leaves clinging to his coat. Every so often, he would break out of his trance to brush them off. Gwen had gotten it for him on their first Valentine’s Day together after she saw him wearing one of his uncle’s old ones. She joked about how it made him look like he was hiding little packets of crack in his pocket. His lips twitched into a smile before he inhaled deeply, trying to remember the sound of her laugh. The real sound of her laugh, not the one that crackles through the speakers of his old laptop whenever he missed her. It’s been that long. He was always terrified he’d forget her: how her eyes twinkled when she learned something new, how her hair always seemed to be perfectly in place, or how her scent took over his room after every visit.

There were days when he couldn’t even get out of bed, too consumed by his grief to move a muscle. On the flip side, there were days when he could feel like himself again. Days where he allowed himself to smile and just be the nerd he’d always been. He knew it was what Gwen would’ve wanted. By some miracle, it was what she fell in love with. She loved Peter Parker and that was the only reason he had to not lose himself as Spider-Man. Despite it all, he found it got easier with time. It was easier to live with himself now. It was easier to accept that it wasn’t his fault. Four years has passed since her death and he was just barely accepting it still, but it didn’t hurt so much anymore.

It was rare for him to have the time to just go out and enjoy what the city had to offer. New York could be a real piece of work: that was evident from just how much Spider-Man had to deal with in the past few months, but it was home. Central Park was a place he hadn’t visited in a while, so he tried to not dwell in his thoughts too much and enjoy the rare opportunity. Admittedly, there wasn’t much to do but people-watch, but it was a nice change of pace for Peter. With how hectic things were at work on top of his responsibilities as a vigilante, he was exhausted. He was tired of being Peter Parker. It was nice to just be invisible for once. 

He snorted. If middle-school Peter heard that, he would’ve been firmly smacked on the head by his younger self. He always wanted to fit in with the cool kids back then. He achieved that to some degree. Sure, he was more well-known as a dweeb rather than a cool guy, but he was still well-known. Even now, he realized his desires didn’t change all that much. It’s just that this time, he wished he could have a house and a dog and a proper job and be friends with normal people. Instead, he was still renting an apartment in a less-than-ideal part of town that he could barely keep. Before he could slip further into his self-deprecation, he was pulled away from his thoughts by something sitting next to him. On his right was a puppy, no more than a year old, slobbering all over the bench with a bright green ball in its mouth. Peter could only stare at it before the puppy carefully placed the wet ball on his lap, urging him to throw it. Before he could do anything, you jogged up to them and picked up both the dog and the ball.

“I’m so sorry, sir! I don’t know what’s gotten into him lately!” your eyes wandered down to the wet patch on Peter’s thigh where the ball used to be. “God, you don’t have somewhere to be, do you? I’m really, really sorry!” 

You were really jittery. That was the only word Peter could think of to describe you. You didn’t know where to put your hands: between holding the happy pup, the ball with said pup’s drool all over it, or trying to introduce yourself to the man your dog decided was “the chosen one”, Peter was pretty entertained. Then he felt bad. 

“It’s no problem really,” he reassured you before pointing to the troublemaker in your arms fondly. “You’ve got a cute puppy. Too bad I didn’t get to throw the ball though.”

The sigh of relief you let out must’ve been cartoony because you swore you saw him smile, then he stood up and handed you a handkerchief. You looked at it for a few moments before accepting it with your one wet free hand gratefully. He remembered thinking at the time that you looked so welcoming. Like a friend you can always talk to even if you haven’t seen each other in a while. It might’ve been his senses messing with him, but the air felt clearer then. Your arrival cleared a fog in his mind, and he didn’t even know your name. So he told you his instead, his gloved hand touching yours for the first time in what seemed to be just a polite handshake. Looking back on it now, perhaps that was the first sign. 

You told him your name, trying not to stare at the man in front of you. His eyes were so… kind. They were big and round and full of wonder, maybe a little dampened by age. Kind but tired. They should’ve been just as average as any other set of eyes you’ve seen, but when the sunlight hit them just right, it reminded you of swirls of honey. The rest of him surely didn’t disappoint. Maybe a few seconds in, you realized you must’ve been gawking at him, so you said your goodbyes and tried to forget about it on the way home.

Not that you could, but he couldn’t either. 

A couple of weeks had passed. His patrols happened less often now with him working so much during the day. Between the bills and the pressure of being a functioning adult, Peter found it difficult to keep his head above water. He stared at his reflection in the full-length mirror he got from May’s old stuff. He was older. He was sadder. The suit still fit as well as it could, but squeezing into it was more of a chore now than an exciting flipping-of-the-switch into his alter-ego. His hands shook, if only for a moment, before he pulled down the mask over his head. The fire escape creaked under his weight before bouncing back into place as Spider-Man finally leaped off and swung into the night.

“It’s just another patrol,” he reminded himself. “You get this done and you can get some sleep.” 

It must’ve been two hours into his patrol when he heard you. His ears perked up at the sound of your voice. Before he could even register what was happening, his body was already swinging its way to you.

“Sherlock!” you called out. “Sherlock! Where are you?”

This was impossible. You loved your dog to bits but you’d think he’d think twice before dashing away from you at the slightest rustle of a bush.

“You need some help?” a voice came from behind you.

You jumped and swung your fist at whoever it was. Peter managed to narrowly avoid your sucker punch so he stepped back and held up his hands, in fear of freaking you out even more.

“WOAH! Woah, woah, hey…” he tried to calm you down, his actions about as frantic as your own. “I’m Spider-Man! I’m here to help!”

Red and blue spandex. Wide white lenses. Your mind finally processed what was going on in front of you. Spider-Man was here. 

Holy shit, Spider-Man was here.

Once again, you were apologizing to him. Not that you would ever know that it was the same person. You explained that you were trying to find your dog, and he listened. He clung to your every word, whether he meant to or not. That same fog in his head cleared up and soon he found himself engaging in easy conversation with you as you both searched the neighborhood for your dog. He felt light, like this was the simplest thing ever. Why was it so easy to be with you?

How long has it been since he was in the company of someone other than May? Someone who wasn’t from Midtown High who would awkwardly comment on how different he looked. Someone who wasn’t from the Bugle who would sneer at him every time he messed up because he was exhausted. How long has it been since he spent time with somebody who could get to know him the way normal people did? 

He tried to shake off these thoughts. Who said anything about the two of you getting to know each other anyway? Peter looked back at you from the dark alleyway. You were on the opposite side of the street from him, hellbent on finding Sherlock. A happy bark echoed from his side of the street. The puppy he once could’ve scooped up with one arm was now thrice the size of what it used to be. Sherlock stopped to smell Peter. The dog barked once again, as if to say “Hi, I remember you!”, and then ran back to you before you could burst into tears of frustration.

For a minute or two, Peter stayed just to watch. You were so gentle with your pup, so genuinely concerned for its wellbeing that it struck something inside of him. With how long he’s been Spider-Man and how much he lost as a consequence of it, he often forgot that people like you still existed. He forgot that there were still good people in this world, people who would do the same thing he did if they were the ones bitten by a radioactive spider. People that would help a tourist get to their hotel safely, reunite a mother with their child or, like you, spend the rest of the night looking for their dog in the freezing cold. 

Peter tried to leave as soon as he could because there was something about you he couldn’t quite figure out and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like not knowing what it was about you that rekindled a flame in him he thought he’d lost. You didn’t even get a chance to thank him properly. He shot one web after another and then it was back to work.

Your voice and Sherlock’s cheerful barks echoed after him, “Thank you, Spider-Man!” 

He felt himself smiling underneath the mask. Even if it was just for that night, he felt like the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man again. For you, the walk home was peaceful, even with the ever-present noise of the city in the background, but you felt safe. Since that first meeting with the masked hero, you’d feel that someone was watching you every now and then… and you knew exactly who it was. It was always a blip of red and blue in your peripheral, but it was more than enough. 

In February, you got laid off from your job. You’d seen it coming but that didn’t mean it still wasn’t a complete pain in the ass. You just turned up to work, got handed your box of stuff, and sent on your way. It all happened so fast. Next thing you knew, you were sitting in some dingy old bar, your box of stuff forgotten in the trunk of your car while you nursed your drink. Some guy took a seat a couple of stools away from you, huffing as he rested his head on the counter.

It took you a while to recognize him.

“Hey! We’ve met before… Peter, right?” 

Peter sat upright then, an awkward smile adorning his face as he turned to you. He stopped himself from speaking right away. After all, you met him once. He met you twice, both as himself and Spider-Man. He had to keep that in mind. 

“Oh, uh, yeah! From Central Park?”

You laughed, “Yeah. From Central Park.”

There it was again. The ease of the conversation. The natural flow of your back and forth banter. He couldn’t tell if it was just you or his heart finally giving in after years of self-isolation that brought about this sense of calm, but he was grateful for it all the same. You told him about what just happened earlier that day and… something pushed Peter to just take one more step into the deep end.

“You could come work at the Bugle,” he blurted out. Fuck. You’re so stupid, Peter.

“What? The Daily Bugle? The newspaper?” you repeated in disbelief, all of your attention now on him as you shifted in your seat. It was overwhelming. Why was it so overwhelming? This was only the third time he’s talked to you!

Maybe it was liquid courage, but he found himself nodding and just going down the rabbit hole of trying to convince you to apply, “I mean, you’ve been at that company for how many years? And I heard they don’t just hire anyone, too. If anyone could land a spot at the Bugle, it’s you,”—he grinned and put on an accent—”mi amigo.”

You stared at him, perplexed. Then, a smile. You were his friend.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he smiled back, trying to hold back the hope blooming in his chest. “I guess… I’ll be seeing you again soon?” 

You wasted no time writing down your number on a piece of tissue and sliding it over to him, “You bet, Parker.”

In the safety of his one-bedroom apartment, Peter smiled at the messy line of numbers you scrawled on the two-ply tissue. He called you the day after, eagerly telling you abut what life at the Bugle was like. In true Spidey fashion, he was honest about it. His horror stories of his boss didn’t seem to faze you at all. In fact, it only made you more determined to apply and prove yourself. He admired that.

One call became two, and two became three. And one after that… and another after that. That wasn’t counting the daily texting that ensued in between. Peter found himself looking forward to your texts in the morning, when he finally fixed his sleep schedule just enough to wake up before his alarm started blaring. By the time you were officially an employee of the Daily Bugle, he couldn’t contain his excitement. 

It was exhilirating to not be alone anymore. It was even better when he realized your cubicle was just right next to his. Peter made it his mission to ensure your work experience was a fun and pleasant one. It was so unequivocally him to do something like that. Each gesture started out small: he decorated your desk with two succulents when you started out. After a while, he would leave candy on top of your paperwork while you went to the bathroom. He always denied this. Then there were the sticky notes.

Peter didn’t come to work regularly, he was juggling two other freelance jobs most of the time but he always, without fail, managed to leave a sticky note on your computer if he wasn’t going to be around the next day. Like his other acts of kindness, these started small too. Imagining him hunched over a desk and writing these notes just for you made you more flustered than you could even begin to admit.

“Don’t forget to eat!”

“You’re doing such a good job :)”

“YOU’RE SO AWESOME!!! >:D”

But your favorite, favorite one, the one you kept safe in your phone case, was the note he left when you finished some of his paperwork for him. The two of you never spoke about the notes he left, both too scared to ruin the comfortable dynamic you’ve created. The very next morning, that familiar bright yellow poked out from in between the stacks of paper on your desk. You remembered the warmth you felt as you read his words. Something about his handwriting only intensified that.

“My hero :D Tell me how to make it up to you, you beautiful human being,” followed by a doodle of you in a Spider-Man costume. 

One day, when he’s ready, maybe Peter would tell you how you saved a life just because you finished his work for him. In your own act of kindness, you allowed him to start his patrol earlier and save a teenage girl from getting mugged, or worse. When you invited him over to your house that weekend and saw the angry bruise on on his cheekbone, he let you tend to the cuts that were littered all over his body. He let himself bask in your gentleness and care and sweetness and everything that made you, you. You asked him if he got attacked. He shook his head and ignored the sting of the hydrogen peroxide. 

“I fell into some bushes while hiking. Turns out it had thorns,” he lied. Lying to you didn’t feel great.

Instead of prying any further, you laughed and told him to be more careful. He could’ve sworn the room felt brighter then. 

In June, May came over to his apartment to drop off some good homemade food; something she was sure he had gone far too long without, since his culinary taste consisted solely of instant noodles and microwaveable meals. The TV hummed in the background as the older woman made some small talk with her nephew. The realization that he was no longer a little boy dawned on her. It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened, but it was a hard pill to swallow. May saw how tired and beaten down he was, especially after Gwen’s death, and it wasn’t until recently that she noticed a change in the young man. The stubble he always forgot to shave was nowhere to be seen, his unkempt hair finally trimmed into a manageable shape, and his eyes were brighter. He was still tired, but he was happy. For a brief moment, she saw the little boy she used to bathe and sing to before bed. 

Peter was too busy munching on the chicken casserole she prepared to see his aunt smiling at him. Finally, she decided to speak up.

“Who is it, Peter?”

He looked up, not expecting the question, “Who’s what?”

“Who’s making you happy?” 

Peter thought about it for a while, not sure if the answer he’ll give was actually the right one to describe what had transpired these last few months, “I made a friend, I guess. They’re really nice and uh… they just started working for the Bugle. So. I see them more often.”

May nodded, a content smile on her face as she processed the information. A coworker. A friend.

“Tell me about them, they seem nice.”

Peter hesitated for a second, only to be reminded of your face and your bad jokes and your dog. Nice was an understatement. You were amazing.

“They are. Nice, I mean. We just sort of ran into each other at Central Park and then I saw them again a couple of months later and I recognized them. They’re… they make me feel comfortable. Appreciated, you know? I haven’t had somebody to talk to like this since—” he stopped. 

Since. 

Since Gwen.

In the time Peter’s known you, not once did he think about her. Then that horrible sinking feeling in his gut came. Years of falling and learning how to get back up went down the drain because he was reminded once again of what he lost. His thoughts were running a thousand miles a minute, all of them connecting back to that one fact that he was sure would haunt him forever: Gwen Stacy was dead and she would stay dead and Peter couldn’t do anything about that, no matter how much he wished he could. Somewhere, deep down, a part of him never really grew up. How could he? What gave him the right to live the life he wanted when she couldn’t live hers because he couldn’t catch her?

Then you came into his life and pulled him out of his self-imposed exile. All at once, it was you flooding his senses and you weren’t even there. This was wrong. This was all wrong.

May could only watch her nephew go through a whole lifetime’s worth of pain all over again. In a flash, he was gone. May Parker was alone.

He didn’t know where he was going, but he had to leave his apartment. He couldn’t bear to let May see him like that again. He couldn’t… It felt too much like the first time. It felt too much like losing his uncle and his girlfriend. He didn’t want to relive it. New York’s skies were painted pink and orange as the sun began to set, but all he could think about was getting away. His feet simply walked and walked and walked, his mind in a haze until finally, finally, he stopped at the headstone that haunted him for so long.

Gwendolyne Maxine Stacy

Beloved daughter and friend

March 2, 1996 - July 2014

A breath he didn’t know he was holding in escaped him. It had been nearly a decade since she died. She would’ve been twenty-seven. The air felt colder somehow, but Peter, even with his scientific mind, wanted to believe that she was there with him in that moment. He wanted to believe that Gwen Stacy never truly left. It was true, in a way. It was Peter that kept her alive, even if it was only in memory. 

“Gwen, help me out,” he whispered. “Help me out, please. I can’t… I can’t do this anymore.”

He struggled to keep his composure.

“I met someone, Gwen. It was an accident. Their dog was all over the place and for some reason, he chose me. Gave me his ball to throw. And then they came along and GOD! They’re just— They’ve been nothing but kind to me, but I just can’t… I can’t do that to you. Never to you. And I know what you would say and how I’m an idiot but,” his voice wavered. “How can I ever look at anybody else the way I looked at you?”

Soft footsteps came from behind him.

“You can’t, sweetheart,” May placed her hand on his shoulder. “You can’t look at anybody that way you did Gwen. What you had with her was special. It was you and her, but that doesn’t mean you can’t start something new. Something entirely different and just as special. You know this is what she would’ve wanted for you, why would you deny her that, Peter?”

The dam broke. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

May held him tight. She didn’t know how long she stayed there in the cold with Peter, but the moment that little boy was left on her doorstep, she knew she would do anything for him. No longer was he little, but he was her boy, and he always will be. If she had to rub circles on his back for as long as he needed to pour his heart out to the world, she would do it. So she did.

You didn’t hear from Peter for the next few days. He always managed to evade you at work and when you did see him, he avoided your gaze and left as soon as he could instead of hanging around to chat about random stuff like he always did. You would be lying if you said it didn’t hurt. Peter was probably your first true friend in this city. He looked out for you in ways nobody ever bothered to, even people you’ve known your whole life. Peter Parker was your friend and you were determined to get to the heart of the problem and fix it.

Miraculously, you caught him just as he was about to leave the lobby. Hearing his name from your lips stopped him in his tracks, so he turned around to face you. You knew what he was going to say. It was going to be another excuse to leave and not talk to you.

“Oh, hey!” he greeted lamely. “Look, I can’t stay around for too long, I have to—”

“Cut the shit, Parker,” you hissed. If it came out harsher than you intended, you didn’t care. You deserved to know whatever it was that made him start avoiding you like the plague. “What’s going on with you? And don’t tell me it’s nothing, because it’s definitely something!”

He was caught. With nothing else up his sleeves, he pleaded quietly, “Not here. I’ll tell you, I promise, I just… Not here.”

A couple of hours later, you were face to face with his door. You hesitated to knock and as if on cue, Peter opened the door with a tired smile. His hair was damp and he was dressed in a shirt much too large for him and plaid sweatpants. He smelled of cheap bar soap and mint toothpaste. For a moment, all you could feel was him. It took all of your strength to push that thought to the back of your mind. There was a more important matter at hand, and that was figuring out what was bothering your friend.

He ushered you inside and you both awkwardly next to each other on his worn out couch. The broken leather pricked your legs every now and then through the old bedsheet Peter covered the couch with. All the confidence you mustered up throughout the day to confront him was lost now. You fiddled anxiously with the strings of a throw pillow, avoiding Peter’s gaze.

He broke the silence, “I’m sorry. I haven’t been myself recently but… what I did to you this week was wrong. Sorry. Again.” 

You sighed. This wasn’t easy at all. The words came out before you could think, “I know. I just wish you would tell me. I think I deserve to at least know why you’ve been acting this way.”

Your heart thrummed in both anticipation and fear. Peter, with his enhanced everything, could hear it. That’s when he took in the sight before him. You were so gorgeous; an angel on Earth in his eyes. You, so beautiful in ways he didn’t think was possible, sat in his living room because you were concerned. May’s words of wisdom echoed in his mind. She was right. What he had with Gwen was special, she was his first love, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t form something new. It took all this time to realize he wanted to build that with you. Your eyes told him everything you didn’t say out loud. You cared. You cared, you cared, you cared. He loved you.

Peter Parker loved you. He just had to figure out a way to say it.

He was sure he looked weird in that moment. You stared at him so intensely, trying to figure out the enigma that was his emotions. His hands found yours and the first thing you could think was how warm they were. He squeezed, as if trying to reassure himself that you were real and that this was happening.

“I lost someone. She… she was my girlfriend,” he began shakily, trying to find the right words to describe the massive lump of something in his chest. “Her name was Gwen. We met in high school. All these years, I’ve tried to hold on to her. You know, to keep her alive in some way. It wasn’t until recently that I realized that maybe I was doing more harm than good.”

There it was. It was all out in the open now, bits and pieces of his heart sprawled out across the floor as he waited for your reaction. Thousands of scenarios ran through his head, all of them ending in you leaving him alone. Each version of you in his mind reflected the guilt he bottled up for nearly a decade, screaming at him and cursing him for the things he’s done and the things he couldn’t do. Then he felt your arms wrap around him. He didn’t even realize he was already crying.

“Peter Parker, you are a good person. I might not know the full story, but if she loved you as much as you loved her, then I know for a fact that she would want you to be happy. You deserve that. She deserves that.” 

You prepared yourself for his protest; for him to rebut everything you just said. You hoped you said the right thing but nothing could’ve prepared you for what he said next.

“If you keep saying things like that, I’ll fall in love with you even more.”

It was so quiet, just a little above a hushed whisper that you could almost fool yourself into thinking he didn’t say it if it wasn’t for that fact that his hold on you got tighter. He must’ve seen the confusion on your face because he spoke again, “I hated myself for falling in love with you because I thought it was a disrespect to Gwen’s memory. I wish I couId say I didn’t see it coming. I always knew I would love you. I just didn’t want to see it.”

For a few moments, the two of you just stayed there, his confession lingering in the air you breathed. It might be a trick of the mind, but you knew it was sweet. Peter pulled away; too kind, too selfless, too afraid to consider the possibility that you might just feel the same.

“Peter—”

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—” 

“Peter—” 

“—ruin everything we had, I just couldn’t—”

“Peter!”

He gulped, clearly not expecting you to stop him from rambling. In his mind, you deserved an apology. In yours, you deserved a chance to speak.

“Peter,” you spoke softly, trying to reassure him that you weren’t offended in any way. “Have you ever once considered that maybe I like you too?” 

Ever since he got bitten by that spider, Peter learned to tune out the stimuli in his environment. It used to bother him so much; hearing and smelling and feeling everything all at once got overwhelming. Now, when all his senses pointed back to you, he finds he doesn’t mind at all. In that moment, he was so sure he’d die a happy man if your face was the last thing he ever saw. It took him a while to respond to your own confession, too wrapped in all of you to think clearly.

He asked you if you were sure. You said yes. He asked you again. You kissed him. 

The feeling of your lips on his both grounded him and blew him away. Somewhere in between that make-out session, his hands found yours. He decided this felt right. Maybe Peter will never fully overcome his own insecurities, and there was a lot of them. He was worried he was too tired, too beaten-down for you… and that didn’t even begin to describe the fear he felt knowing that you would have to find out about Spider-Man at some point. Again, he was reminded of your friendship and your kindness. You had given it to him so freely. He just needed to take another leap of faith and learn to trust himself as much as you did.

When November came, Peter didn’t find the air so chilly anymore. Not with you around.

[timiddixon]

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |

Rosabelle Blu has only been surviving on her own for 3 months now. Having escaped something horrific after the world ended, she struggled to make it thus far.

That is until she stumbles upon a group hiding out in a barn during a storm, who eventually find themselves in the Alexandria Safe-zone. Out of everyone in the group, she's surprised to find the one person with the gentlest of touch, is a rugged red neck with a no-bullshit attitude.

Despite their vastly different pasts before the outbreak, they find they have more in common. Beginning to wonder if they would have found one another had the world not ended.

Cautious Friends to Intense Lovers, Slow Burn, Angst, Comfort Fic, Domestic Fluff, Daryl Dixon x OC, Protective Daryl, Socially Awkward Daryl, Follows Canon Events closely, Eventual Smut, MINORS DNI, Mentions of suicide, Graphic depictions of violence (Similar to the show), Implied SA, Implied NON-CON, Implied and referenced physical Abuse.

Tags will be updated as story is written.