#so he wants to do whatever it takes to get mimi back

[melancholicstation]

God bless America and all the beautiful women in it —husband!jack schlossberg comfort headcanon's

jack schlossberg fan fiction is for the lovers

WIFE!READER returns and is the orion carloto archetype, who balances modelling and writing, and i imagine her making tiktoks in the same vain of alanabananaxox (she's been my no.1 tiktoker since 2021) and sotce on tiktok.

taglist: @obsessedwithjohnjr @candyneckl6ce @rocker-chick-7 @ultr4v1ol3nt @violetharmonsfavgf @strip-weather-forecast @darcyspirits @fortheloveofjos @h-l-v-kennedy-blog @h-l-vlovesvintage @bluelancergirl @snowsgames @salvatoresablondie @dulcegal @kennedyism @bloxholden35 @kimcrystal123 @absurdlyvintage @jackiesgirl @chemicalw0rld @remotewatch @starsprangledgirl

no matter the stressor husband!jack literally treats it as a top-priority emergency

immediately goes to start a bath for you in your gorgeous copper bathtub (cause of course you have a copper bathtub ... duh) with some suzzane kaufman bath salt's that he picked up down in greenwich after a meeting with vogue's magazine department.

husband!jack is a freak for baths and it's rubbed off on you ... seriously like that man takes baths multiple times a week, on top of daily showers

if he had to be out on a day you were particularly anxious for whatever reason he would come home with a laundry bag of new tasteful yet cute stuffed animals from loewe and never tell you the prices cause he knows you'd crash out

is great at being a body pillow and has no shame just laying in silence together for hours

would try to make you feel better by getting the overpriced (not in your opinion) criterion subscription just so you could watch vintage halloween movies without running a risk of getting hacked on some third-party sketchy website

would 100% let you live in his clothes while he was out of the house so you could feel comforted even if he wasn't physically near

would absolutely try to distract you with light comedy, despite his cockiness he is indeed a funny guy so it helps slightly

husband!jack would be such a proponent of a healthy mind is a healthy body so he'd make you go do jump rope with him (cause why does jump roping have to be so humiliating) or even worse takes you out to paddle board, like imagine your knee-deep in that melancholic state where you only read plath novels and listen to unreleased lana and your boyfriend drags you out to go paddle boarding???? like cmon now

you do feel better afterwards but you would never tell him that

if you guys owned any pets together he would without a doubt tell you he's going to be out for a couple of hours and come back with one of those portrait paintings of house-pets to cheer you up (editors note: vang olsen mimi does the most delightful pet paintings if your in greenwich!)

he would absolutely NOT be above trying to self-medicate your problems (within reason) by smoking w*ed with you or sharing a cigar being the chicest couple ever!

would 100% smother you in delightfully soft cashmere blankets in the pattern of gorgeous tapestries

would earnestly read poems (robert frost, emily dickinson, and shakespeare) to you to get you to sleep on the especially hard days

is a devout optimist and routinely talks you out of your doom scrolling

always holds space for whatever emotions you are feeling but always wants to provide solutions to your problems

and when he encounters a problem he can't so easily fix he invests time into getting your mind off it and plans steps you can take to lessen the hold whatever your stressing about has on you

writes mini impromptu love letters/pep talks on the empty spaces in your agenda notebook (wife!reader would totally own more than 1 of these louise carmen organisers in an apropos shade of autumn scarlet )

encourages you to do self-care rituals with your staple skincare products by letting you do the exact same steps on him

while husband!jack cooks for you both you read him your favourite chapters of "democracy" by joan didion in the kitchen every night and it remains a pillar in your routine despite the tumult

during your hard times jack is serving peak husbandry doing the washing, cooking and cleaning

when he's on his lunch break at the office you get text messages like this:

always makes sure that you take your medication (if you take any) at the exact times its supposed to be at and has little alarms on his phone

husband!jack would increase his acts of service to 1000% like that man would be taking your row boots into the cobbler for a new sole

would bring home flowers without a special occasion, just cause

would without a doubt bring out those STELLAR accents just to see you smile

disclaimer: this is all obviously fiction and i do not know this man nor how he calms anyone down, this is all for some fun distraction in these trying times.

to anyone struggling with the results and its ramifications (same here) i would really encourage you to read this beautiful (free) essay from alanabanaxox on patreon: https://www.patreon.com/posts/i-miss-dancing-115580140?utm_medium=clipboard_copy&utm_source=copyLink&utm_campaign=postshare_fan&utm_content=web_share

[suffarustuffaru]

rating some rezero ships by um. how good they could cover up murder together

(feel free to read my tags for some explanations T^T)

[dead-boys-club]

†  what do you want? : the fatui.

❥ scenario: answering a simple question. ❥ no triggers ❥ i don't have any beta readers - you get what you get. ❥ taglist: @mimis-happiest-day

"what do you want from me?" the words slip out, trembling in the cold. your voice is barely louder than a whisper, as if the weight of the question itself could shatter the silence around you. they stare back—each gaze colder or hotter, more calculating or more devouring than the last. whatever their answers, you know the fatui don’t give anything freely.

❥ arlecchino.

her gaze remained sharp as you stared at her, cutting through you like glass. "what do i want?" she repeated, almost mocking, but there's a softness - she thought over your words. "everything," she finally says, her hand reaching to trace over your jaw with the tip of her nails. "your loyalty, your strength, your heart. and, only if you're strong enough, your soul." her words are both a demand and devotion, the only way she would deliver them.

❥ dottore.

he chuckles, the sound low and unhinged. "what do i want?" he purrs in amusement. he takes your hand to hold it open, his thumb rested against your pulse. "to see what makes you tick, of course. to pull you apart, piece by piece - and then, perhaps, if you're good.." he trails off for a moment, his smile mischievous. "i'll put you back together, better than you ever were."

❥ childe.

he grins, a mischievous glint to his eyes. "what do i want? hm.." he echoes, moving closer, voice playful but laced with a surprising depth. "i want everything you've got - every laugh, every secret, every scar." his hand finds yours, fingers threading between your own. :i want to fight beside you, protect you, and maybe.. just maybe, find another reason to stop fighting."

❥ pantalone.

his smile is knowing as it forms, eyes shining with something dark and calculating. "ah, my dear, you know very well what i want." he steps closer, fingers finding your cheek, his gaze holding a weight you couldn't name. "loyalty, love - such beautiful words." his hand lingers a beat too long. "but, what i truly want.. is to see how far you'll go for me."

❥ signora.

her gaze is fierce as always, though tempered by something gentler, softer than her usual demeanor. "what do i want?' her voice is barely audible and she pauses, eyeing you closely. "i want to burn the world down, watch it all turn to ash - with you by my side. you're the one spark i never expected," she adds, a rare smile gracing her lips. ❥ scaramouche.

he scoffs, arms crossing in his usual fashion, acting like your question offends him. his tone is biting and mocking as he repeats your question. "i want you to stop asking stupid questions." but he looks away, letting out a deep sigh, annoyed. "you should know by now.. i wouldn't keep you around if i didn't think you were important."

❥ columbina.

her smile is serene, unsettling so, as if she sees far beyond you. "what do i want?" she hums, thinking over the answers as her fingers dance against your shoulder. "i want you, my songbird. to sing for me, to shatter the silence. most of all.." her voice drops, becoming a whisper, like the next words were a deep secret. "i want you to stay, forever bound to this melody only we share."

❥ pierro.

his gaze is unreadable, maybe solemn if you had to choose a word, carrying to weight of worlds and beyond. he repeats your words, considering the question. "loyalty. strength. is that not what everyone wants? but with you.." his hand fingers your shoulder, steadying and grounding you both. "i want.. peace." there's a softness to his voice, a rare vulnerability that you deemed impossible. "stay besides me, and let us carve a legacy that will never be forgotten."

❥ sandrone.

her head tilts, observing you with an eerie, calculating gaze. she always looked at you as if you were a piece of her collection. she repeats the words, quiet and detached, in a way that made you feel like she didn't quite understand. "i want you to stay perfectly still, exactly as you are. i've never been fond of things that break too easily." he fingers lift, tracing your cheek bone, a possessive, chilling touch. "for you, i might make an exception. just don't disappoint me."

❥ capitano.

the weight of his voice is that of unspoken promises, deep and quiet, a rumble if nothing else. "what do i want?' he asks, his tone unwavering but something told you he'd never been asked such a thing. "i want you to stand beside me without fear. to see the world through your eyes and remember what it is i'm fighting for." a gloved hand rested on your upper arm, a surprisingly gentle touch. "and, you're willing, i want you.. as my reason to keep moving forward."

[bunicate]

mimi i wud die for sum wrio incest ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ i need nii-nii to punish his lil sis when she starts actin up and disobeying ૮꒰ྀི⸝⸝> . <⸝⸝꒱ྀིა

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི ₊˚ pairing ꒱ྀི wriothesley x fem reader — warnings ꒱ incest. fucking in leggings. calling your big brother daddy ? creampie. reader is described as small / 18+

i kept u waiting long enough and Im not sure but I may have strayed a witl bit from whut u said but still ! ! wrio-nii <3 muhehe . some icky thoughts and babbling below nonnie.

believe it or not wriothesley doesn’t necessarily enjoy punishing his little sister, but that doesn’t mean he’s opposed to it, especially if you’ve been seeking a less-than-innocent reaction out of him. 

it crushes him to say it, but wriothesley knows that his chilling title as duke at the fortress of meropide doesn’t grant him the same freedoms as others. he’s an overseer, a self-appointed role that he carved himself. part of it is to maintain order; the other half is maybe to fulfill his own sentence and snuff out any remnants of the guilt he couldn’t shake off.

naturally, he’s a protector whose hands happen to be bloodied. if it meant guaranteeing the safety of his little sister, he’d fight his way through anything, even if it meant bruised skin and broken bones. to be at the fortress while you remained in the world above was, to say the least, hard, but he’s working around that obstacle.

its some days, like today ( though rare on occasion ) he takes a well-deserved break.

a long shower, a couple of hours in the at home gym to stay dedicated, and then he promises afterwards that he’s all yours. maybe a picnic, a stroll through the town, a shopping trip—whatever you set your sights on, he’d do it; he’d get it because he has the patience of a saint, but that just happened to be the one thing you lacked.

your attempts at seducing him were messily orchestrated. adorable, and innocent, and his cock strained against his sweatpants nonetheless.

wriothesley’s bare chest expands with each deep breath he takes, greedily sucking up the air to calm his lungs and beating heart after he drops his weight.

though away from the world below, he doesn’t stray from his regimen. even when darling little girls strut in loungewear not even appropriate enough to wear in their own homes, offer him water.

he downs it—gulps it incredibly fast and wipes the remnants of water that escape on the back of his hand. he sets the glass down, and he knows that water isn’t the only thing his body is aching for.

the clothes are practically second skin, your nipples are puffy and alert under your shirt from the air conditioning, and the leggings are tight enough to emphasize the chub of your lower lips.

“why are you lookin’ at me like that?”

it’s a silly question he doesn’t bother to answer.one foot behind the other, hands intertwined, you give him that a stare that reveals more than you let on. your tongue delicately swipes your bottom lip, and his eyes follow. he watches closely when your lips do that small bounce from the release of your teeth.

he wants to wipe that doe-eyed look off your face and rip the flimsy pants off. maybe even ruffle up your pretty pigtails, but you’d hate him if he did. yet, it’s only fair for him to tease in return, and wriothesley isn’t too keen on enforcing discipline. but if you want it so bad, he can’t see why he can’t be voracious just this once.

it takes him only a split second to wrangle your body to the floor and push your cheek into the plush mat. he’s pumped with adrenaline; his brute strength nearly knocks the wind out of you.

those fingers that you love so dearly trail down your hips and backside to finally press down on the seat of your leggings—right where your cunt sucked in the fabric. just two of his digits encompass the size of your heat, and they trace the sticky folds through the cloth. your grip on the mat tightens, bracing yourself for the inevitable.

he roughly rips open your leggings, the sudden exposure to air making you gasp. it’s a wide enough hole to display your plump ass and fat little pussy to his icy blues. such thick, succulent lips dressed in a thin layer of your slick that he wanted to lap up selfishly.

his large hand reels back and collides with the flesh of your butt watching it jiggle.

“hnn— !”

your body lurches forward on impact, and wriothesley flexes his thick arms to keep you still.

“shh, shh. s’okay.”

he rubs the fat of your butt briefly before landing another swift strike.

you squeal, “nii-nii! p-pleaseee !”

the arch in your back deepens, and wriothesley licks his lips in anticipation at your show of embarrassment.

“this is what you wanted, isn’t that right?”

he’s dizzy from the sight of your gaping cunt, and he can’t tell whether to spank it, fuck it, or kiss it first.

ultimately, he decides on spitting.

he puckers his lips, and a tiny glob lands right in the center of your pussy, and he eagerly stares as it disappears between your plump folds.

you flinch away reactively from the moist invasion, scrambling on the floor, but your brother overpowers you.

“come on, don’t run from me now, you little brat.” his hold on you tightens, forcing your ass higher up.

wriothesley begins to tug his pants down and pull out his heavy cock. it’s thick and drooling pre-cum from his wide tip, eager to empty his load inside your tiny hole. he gives it a few strokes and watches you wiggle your butt in excitement.

“put it in nii-nii. i'm so messy down there, so you don’t need’ta prep me. . .”

a manicured nail runs down your slit and separates your fold, and nothing but arousal webs across your twitchy cunt.

“fuck .” 

you are messy.

you’re dripping and creaming, and he’s barely started. he takes his own thumbs to spread your lips apart further, like he couldn’t believe it himself. your vagina thumps erratically, pumping out a bubbly, clear fluid. the squelch is disgustingly loud, and he has to fight himself from collecting the salty drops with his tongue.

he whistles in agreement.

“would you look at that? i guess you’re right. this needy cunt can take my fat cock. ”

he's holding his breath when he presses it against your quivering center.

“i always thought you were too little to take it, but your pretty pussy is more than ready for me.”

he rubs the softness of your skin in awe.

you turn your neck slightly to give him a shy smile. “mhm, s’ only for you. . but,” you shake your hips again. “could you put it in, please?”

slick was now stuck between your thighs, staining your already ruined leggings, and you felt dirty, but not enough to overpower the desire to be fucked by your older brother. you were practically humping the air in utter want, but wriothesley doesn’t match your urgency.

“i’m trying, sweetie, but—” the duke makes no effort—he wipes his sloppy mushroom head on your clit, dragging it in messy circles.

“nii-nii is having trouble.”

his pre-cum frothed into a cloud coating your already wet lips, and he hisses when your pussy briefly twitches around his glans. he nudges your opening teasingly but doesn’t bother to push his way through the tight seam.

he shakes his head in faux remorse.

“see, i guess you’re still too little after all."

you throw a small fit, “that’s not true! i can take it!”

he chuckles at your pouting. the hold on your ass digs into your skin as a warning to not get so worked up.

"then what do you suppose we do?”

he spits again, but this time on his shaft, and he drags his hand up just enough for his foreskin to cup the crown of the flushed tip.

"jus’ ruin it—force your cock in. .”

and he didn’t need to be told again.

two beautiful holes, a tight little knot that he can’t wait to split apart one day, and a wet and fat pussy. was he even strong enough to tough it out a little longer?

he looks up towards the ceiling, muttering a brief prayer. you just might kill him, but he's more than ready.

the tight fist around his member squeezes until a thick drop of white plops against the floor. his balls firm and round flutter with every gasp of air you take. his body is in sync with yours, and as soon as his tip pushes against your opening, it stretches—coaxing in his meaty girth. he pushes all the way in until he's sure he can’t go any deeper, and then pulls back out. his cock shines with your wetness, and he takes a few seconds to marvel at where your groins meet.

without warning his hips to mount forward, and he fucks you with purpose—to teach a lesson.

his pace is far from what you predicted; it's much faster and filled with a vigor you weren’t used to. your big brother prefers to handle you with much more care, knowing that you're just a delicate little thing, but he trusts you’ll get used to it.

you proved time and time again to be adaptable, so you keep your ankles crossed and your face down, smushed into the floor, while he uses your body for his own end. his balls, warm and taut, spank your clit unabashedly, turning the screw inside of you. a ring of milk forms at the base of his cock, and the friction pulls noises out of you you didn’t think you were capable of making.

you move to crawl away and put some distance, but wriothesley doesn't let you.

“nah, be still; let nii-nii use you. that’s what little girls are supposed to do, right?”

he laughs, maybe even out of disbelief. each time he tries to convince himself that it will be the last, he still finds himself forcing his cock inside his cock-hungry little sister. and your moans only elevate in pitch as you get closer to that edge.

“yesssss. ah !—hn—you can use me as many times as you want. m'your little stress toy!”

wriothesley grunts loudly. the sound of your lustful proclamations rattling his very being.

“I'm your little girl. keep fuckin’ me, please, nii-nii.”

he doesn’t want to stop.

the recoil of your round ass from the impact of his thrust is a view too otherworldly for him to separate his eyes from. his body accumulates more sweat, and he continues to deliver those fucks that pushes you harder into the floor. your leggings, other than the gaping rip, were thoroughly obliterated, and the mixture of fluids made the fabric darker and stickier.

“! m’almost there, keep going nii-nii. . . s-so close !”

a foggy cloud slows the whirrs in his brain; all of his thinking ceases, and the only thing he can focus on is finishing inside you. to empty his large balls of his salty seed and pull out more of those choked sobs out.

“s’okay baby. relax . i got you.”

“hnn-! hiccup . mmkay ! i love you s’much."

“yeah, nii-nii loves you too, baby. don’t fucking forget it.”

"i won't, d-daddy.”

he stills only for a moment before continuing.

“daddy ? what are you talking about, silly girl?”

he snickers in between moans and claps of skin. did he fuck you that dumb already?

“I’m your brother princess, don’t tell me you forgot.”

you pulse around his cock.

“mhm, but you’re my daddy too.”

he rolls his eyes and smiles.

“i guess i have a pretty daughter to take care of now,” he says and he’s rewarded with your cute mewls and noises of happiness.

he’d kill for you.

again.

he’s a man free of guilt when he’s the closest to you, and it’s why he feels no shame when he delivers one last thrust and pumps your pussy full of his hot semen.

you welcome it, feeling it fill your belly and it takes few minutes for wriothesley to separate himself from you. the minute he pulls out is when he feels robbed of your warmth, he feels naked but satisfied. his cock layered with thick cum fell limp between his legs and he feels relief that his balls were no longer aching with cum ; it was instead leaking from your puffed cunny.

his hands reached out to touch your sensitive pussy, squeezing it to watch the dollops of his seed drip on the gym mat. your legs shake in desire and it’s when reality sinks in.

you didn’t finish and wriothesley makes no move to get you off. he smirks, he’s sure that this time his punishment will keep you in line.

although, only for a bit .

[thevilqueen]

Potion Mishap ~ Vil Schoenheit

Word Count: 1 625

Pairing: Vil Schoenheit x Reader

Summary: Vil realizes he made a terrible mistake when the hate potion he was crafting for his potion assignment meant to get his mind off you turned into a lust potion.

A/N: This is a continuation of Mimi’s fic right here. It’s smut with plot. There is slight dubcon and reader is afab. Let me know what you think!

Loud knocks on your door startled you as you put your pen down on your desk, standing up from your chair. You walked up to the entrance of your bedroom and watched through the peephole only to see Vil. You frowned. It wasn’t unusual for him to seek you out without notice but the way he was so impatiently knocking on the wooden door had you wondering about what could be so urgent.

“Yes, Vil?” you said, opening the door, your eyes meeting his violet ones.

Vil’s pupils were strangely dilated, you noticed. He was also breathing unevenly, and the red dusting his cheeks didn’t seem to be a make-up choice. He pushed past you, not waiting to be invited and you let him in, closing the door behind the two of you.

“Vil, are you alright?” you asked, a little concerned.

Vil didn’t say anything, but his expression betrayed him. He looked like whatever was tormenting him was about to burst out of him and he had trouble containing it. Before you could question him any further, however, he pushed you against your door. Your eyes widened at the sudden action and you gasped.

“[Name],” he moaned, pressing his body against yours, his hands on either side of you. “I am so sorry.”

“Vil? What’s wrong?”

Your concern only grew with the way he was behaving. Vil breathed heavily before walking backwards, his legs trembling as he made his way to your bed. You immediately followed, worried for your friend. He cried out as he fell onto your mattress and you rushed to him, sitting right beside him on the bed.

“This potion… We made a mistake… [Name]… I cannot take it any more…” Vil said incoherently.

“Vil, what potion?” you replied, panicked and even more confused. “Should I get help? You’re scaring me.”

“No, [Name],” he moaned again, reaching for your hands. “I need you.”

This was when you noticed the tent forming in Vil’s pants and you finally understood.

He sat up on your bed almost immediately and wrapped an arm around your waist. Then he pushed you onto the mattress, climbing on top of you. You didn’t question him as he kissed you. You were frozen in place, having trouble processing what was happening. Vil’s tongue slid inside your mouth and it was aggressively that he undressed you. He pulled down your skirt and you were pretty sure your fishnets were torn with how quickly he took them off.

All of this was unexpected, to say the least, and it was only when he unbuttoned your shirt and pulled down your bra to suck on your exposed breast that you realized none of this should be happening with your closest friend even though you wanted it nearly as much as Vil did.

“Vil?” you breathed, as his tongue teased your nipples. “I don’t think we should be doing this.”

He ignored you, pulling on his tie instead and unbuttoning his shirt.

“You’re not being yourself,” you reminded him in between kisses.

“I think I am,” he whispered in your ear before kissing your neck.

Soon you were moaning Vil’s name too as he showed no signs of stopping anytime. Your legs tightened around him, feeling him bury himself inside you. He was absolutely heavenly, you couldn’t help thinking as he repeatedly bruised your lips with his. You lost count of the orgasms he stole from you and as you switched positions and he trapped you under his body once again, you started to lose track of time and your surroundings.

By the time he reached his release, you were out of breath and a sticky mess of limbs and sweat. Your hands were intertwined when he slowly pulled out from you and lay on your back as your core was still pulsating. You didn’t say anything and let him hold you an arm over your waist as he slid to your side. To be completely honest you didn’t know where to start if you were to speak so you kept quiet for a while enjoying his warmth. Once you finally broke the silence, however, it appeared that Vil had fallen asleep and you couldn’t help chuckling.

It was certainly an endearing sight, you thought as you turned around, facing him. You reached for your blanket, covering him up, a smile on your face as you lay with him. By the time he woke up, you had dressed up and folded his clothes neatly on your desk. You had wondered if you should have woke him up but you figured he was tired, the potion he had ingested was visibly potent after all. You also brought him a light snack and a cup of tea and as he started moving, you hoped he was feeling rested at the very least.

He rubbed his eyes as he awakened, proof that he was likely confused as the action smudged his make-up all over his eyes. He frowned at the sight of the mascara and brown eyeshadow on his fingertips then he looked around the room, realizing he was on your bed. You stood up from your chair by your desk and moved to sit next to him.

“Are you okay, Vil?” you asked, softly.

He took a moment before answering as if the memories of the past events were still foggy. Then his eyes widened as he remembered everything and jolted awake.

“Oh Sevens,” he muttered to himself, in shock, before finally making eye contact with you. “What have I done?”

“Well, a lot of things,” you replied, unsure about how he was taking what had just happened.

“I don’t know what to say. I have no words. What I did is terrible and I have no excuse. I take full accountability for sexually assaulting you and I will fix it in any way you see fit.”

The guilt on Vil’s face was apparent and the way with which he spoke these words immediately made you feel bad for him. He was mistaken, though. While it was true that you hadn’t given your consent for what had unfolded at first there was no point where you wanted him to stop and he didn’t. In fact, it was probably the most enjoyable sex you had ever had even if he had been very visibly consumed by his lust.

“Vil, please, you didn’t sexually assault me,” you reassured him. “Sure, I was a bit confused at first but I didn’t stop you because I was enjoying it. To be quite honest, I should have stopped you, you were clearly not being yourself. So, I am also at fault.”

“No. Don’t even try blaming yourself. I barged into your room and forcefully had sex with you,” he argued.

You couldn’t help chuckling at the absurdity of the situation even though Vil was everything except amused.

“We just had rough sex. I liked it. I liked it a lot even. Besides, I could have very easily neutralized you with my signature spell. I didn’t because I thought we were having a good time. I do feel bad though because if your actions were only motivated by the potion then it means I took advantage of you.”

“It wasn’t just the potion. While I didn’t intend it to turn out that way, I did want to have sex with you… Just not like that. I apologize again,” he explained, with a look of sadness on his face.

“Why the long face? If we both wanted to have sex then it’s alright. Sure it was unexpected but we can always try again with explicit consent this time.”

You chuckled and Vil shook his head.

“Are you sure you are alright?” he insisted. “I do really feel bad.”

“Don’t,” you said with a smile, moving closer to him. “Can I have the story behind this potion, though?”

Vil remained quiet for a moment. He was embarrassed.

“We were crafting a hate potion with Mai-Siri for our potionology class and it was supposed to neutralize my feelings for you for a short time but it backfired,” he confessed.

“A hate potion? Why were you trying to neutralize your feelings for me?”

“Well,” Vil hesitated. “It was only going to be temporary and I just wanted to get my mind off you… It was stupid, I know.”

“Hate potions react to the person ingesting the potion’s feelings for the target. Which means that if you had picked a random person to target, you would have developed hatred for them shortly. It works differently if you care for the person you are targeting, though.”

Vil nodded.

“Depending on how much and how you love your target, the effects of the potion differ. One of the side effects is lust. That said, this is only possible if the romantic love you feel for that person is overwhelmingly strong…” he continued.

You chuckled.

“So, in other words, you are so down bad for me that your hatred turned into lust. How embarrassing.”

Vil rolled his eyes.

“Would you please stop rubbing salt in the wounds? I am already ashamed for making such a stupid mistake.”

You laughed.

“Looks like you underestimated how much you love me.”

“I guess I did. This is so embarrassing.”

“I think it’s cute,” you reassured him, kissing his lips softly.

Vil smiled at the action. This was certainly not how he had planned to confess his feelings for you but at least you seemed to be happy with how it turned out regardless.

“So are we practising explicit consent yet or?”

“You are unbearable,” Vil replied before closing the distance between you two, kissing you as you wrapped your arms around him and you both fell onto the mattress again.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

1968 [Chapter 7: Apollo, God Of Music]

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 8.7k

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“My uncle, he is a doctor in Zabrze,” Ludwika says, red Yardley lips, Camel cigarette. No one cares if she smokes; she’s not campaigning to be the next first lady. Fosco is puffing on a cigar. Mimi sips drowsily at her Gimlet; you could use a few shots, but you’re making do with a Pink Squirrel, something sweet and feminine and without any bite. “So I go to him and he gives me a bottle of chlordiazepoxide.”

“Oh, Librium,” Mimi says, perking up.

Ludwika waves her hand dismissively; cigarette smoke wafts through the air. ���Whatever. The next day I have my audition. A tiny man who thinks he’s God. And I give it a real shot, I try my best, I’m nice, I’m charming, but he doesn’t like me. He says my teeth are too big, like a mouse’s. This is very rude. I did not comment on his fidgety little rat hands. But okay, no problem, I have a plan. No one will stop me from getting out of Poland.”

“You drugged him?” you ask, incredulous, grinning.

“You are a criminal,” Fosco tells Ludwika. “I will call J. Edgar Hoover, you should not be so close to positions of power.”

“Listen, listen,” Ludwika insists. “Here is what I do. I thank him very much for his consideration, and then as I leave I drop my purse and things go everywhere. I filled it before I left my apartment, of course. Anything I could find, empty lipstick tubes and perfume bottles, old makeup compacts with broken mirrors, coins, hair pins, tissues, pens, gum, Krówki candies, it is an avalanche. And when he bends down to help me pick up the mess—I have to encourage him, ‘oh sir won’t you grab that, I am just a stupid girl in a very short dress,’ you understand—I put the pills in his tea.”

“How many pills?” you ask.

“I don’t know. You think I had time to count? Maybe seven.”

“Seven?!” Mimi exclaims, and you take this to mean it was a generous dose.

“What? He did not die,” Ludwika says. “I wait two days and then I go back to his office. And it is so strange, can you believe it, he does not remember my audition! So I remind him that he thought I would be perfect for the ad he is shooting in Paris. He keeps squinting at me and saying ‘are you sure, are you sure?!’ Of course I’m sure! A week later, I am standing under the Eiffel Tower with a bottle of Coca-Cola. And then I book a job in London, and then another in New York City, and one of my new model friends sets me up on a blind date with Otto. Lunch in Astoria at a horrible Greek restaurant. Who wants to eat pie made out of spinach?! Now I am here with you people, and the journalists love when I smile for them with my big mouse teeth.”

All four of you laugh at your table, an elite club, the ones who married in. It’s Alicent’s 60th birthday, and the ballroom of the Texas State Hotel in downtown Houston is raucous with clinking glasses and chatter and music and the shutter clicks of photographers. The DJ is playing Fun, Fun, Fun by the Beach Boys. Alicent is dancing with Helaena and the children, and it’s the happiest you can ever remember seeing her. Otto, Aemond, and Sargent Shriver are deep in conversation by the bar, furrowed brows and Old Fashioneds, today’s newspapers and tomorrow’s itinerary. Criston is standing with the men but watching Alicent, face wistful, silver streaks in his jet black hair, and it occurs to you that they must have grown up together: Alicent a 19-year-old bride and Criston her husband’s fledgling bodyguard, the person closest to her age in the household, near and trusted and forbidden, orbiting adolescent twins like Artemis and Apollo. You keep looking around for Aegon. No one else seems aware that he’s gone.

“Otto thought he died and went to heaven when he found you,” you tell Ludwika. “His Eastern Bloc defector princess.”

“He is going to bring my mother to the States. I would be anything he wanted me to be. I would be a model, or a housewife, or a nurse. I would be Bigfoot! But this…” Ludwika gestures broadly: to the ballroom, the city, the latest stop on the campaign trail. “It is not so bad. I never expected to serve the Polish people so far from home. You know how you stop communism? You show the world that capitalism can do more for them. There must be a path to a better life, wars must be ended, injustices must be dealt with. Aemond will do that.” She grins at you, exhaling smoke through her nostrils. “You will help him.”

You reply a bit wryly: “It’s an honor.”

“We are like four legs of a table,” Fosco observes. He points at Ludwika with his smoldering cigar. “You are a Slav fleeing the Russians. My family has ancient titles in Italy and yet no castles, no land, we are essentially homeless. Mimi’s father is a third-generation oil tycoon from Pennsylvania. And she was supposed to fix Aegon.”

“I don’t think I succeeded,” Mimi confesses.

“And then when it was time for Aemond to get married…” Fosco turns to Mimi. “Do you remember? What an ordeal. The discussions went on and on and on. She must be smart, she must be sinless, she should be from a self-made family, a real rags-to-riches story of the American Dream.”

“Right.” Mimi nods groggily, reminiscing. “And from the South.”

“Yes! But not the Deep South. No, no. Someplace Aemond could actually win. Texas, Tennessee, North Carolina. Or Florida, of course.” Now Fosco notices how you’re looking at him, because you’ve never heard this before. He quickly pivots. “But the weekend Aemond met you, it was settled. Nobody could compare.”

His tone is odd; it suggests backstories, history, mythology. Ludwika appears to be just as intrigued as you are, taking a drag off her Camel, her eyes narrowing until they are thin and catlike. You ask: “Who else was being considered?”

“No one,” Fosco answers—too quickly—and he and Mimi exchange an uneasy glance.

What did Aemond and I talk about the night we met? you think dizzily. In those first hours, minutes, thirty seconds? Where I’m from. What I was studying.

Fosco, a true Italian, then attempts to deflect by flirting. He makes emphatic, passionate motions with his hands. “You were just so captivating, so clever…”

“And young enough that Aemond could easily beat Aegon’s record of five children,” Mimi adds. Fosco clears his throat and glares at her. Mimi realizes what she’s said and gazes forlornly down into her Gimlet, mortified, groaning softly. You’ve had one c-section already, and no living son to show for it. At most, you might be able to give Aemond two or three more children; and you don’t even want them. You want Ari back. You want to touch him, to hold him, even if only for a moment, even if only once.

“It’s fine,” you try to reassure Mimi, but everyone can tell it’s not.

Ludwika breaks the tension. “You do not want twenty kids anyway. Your uterus will fall out onto the floor.” And you’re so caught off-guard that all you can do is smile at her from across the table, knowing, appreciative. It’s a strange thing to be grateful for.

“She’s right,” Mimi says mournfully. “They had to sew mine back in.”

Fosco pleads: “Stop, stop, I will need a lobotomy.”

Mimi slurps on her Gimlet. “It’s sad. I used to love sex.”

“Mimi, please,” Fosco says, wincing, holding up his palms. “You are like my sister. I prefer to think you are the Virgin Mary.”

Ludwika sighs dramatically and looks to where Otto stands on the other side of the ballroom. “I used to love sex too.”

Now you’re all howling again, rocking back in your chairs. The DJ is playing Go Where You Wanna Go by the Mamas and the Papas. Cass Elliot is the real talent in that group and everybody knows it, but of course any mention of her must be dutifully accompanied by: If only she was more beautiful. If only she could lose weight and find a husband.

“I think you like it, yes?” Ludwika says to you like a dare, puffing on a fresh Camel, red lipstick staining the white paper, blood on sheets. She combs her manicured fingernails though her voluminous blonde hair. “I could tell when I met you. You dress like Jackie Kennedy, but you are not such a statue. She belongs in a museum. I can imagine you at the Summer of Love.”

Fosco and Mimi shift uncomfortably. It’s not the sort of thing they would ever ask you. It’s too personal, too easily a segue into criticizing Aemond. It’s a usurpation of the natural order. Mimi guzzles her Gimlet and flags down a waiter to get another. Fosco takes off his glasses and cleans them with his skinny black necktie.

Sex. You think back to before you began to dread it. This is difficult, like trying to remember Greek words or British manners, which fork to use with each course. Memories from another lifetime come back in flashes: tangled up with your first boyfriend in his tiny dorm room bed, Aemond peeling off your still-dripping swimsuit on the floor of your hotel room during your honeymoon in Hawaii. You shrug and give Ludwika a nod, a brisk, ungenerous answer in the affirmative. “I always feel like I could keep going.”

Paradoxically, this does not end the conversation. Ludwika, Fosco, and Mimi study you with the same bewildered, gear-spinning curiosity. After a moment Ludwika says: “Not after you’ve finished, surely. I am half dead by the end if it’s good.”

“Finished?” you ask, puzzled. All three of them gawk at you, then at each other.

Aegon breezes into the ballroom wearing the Gibson guitar he bought in Manhattan, blue like the Caribbean or the Mediterranean or the crystalline waves off the coast of Hawaii, dotted with fish and sea turtles. Your eyes go to him immediately and stay there; you can feel the swirling warmth of blood in your cheeks. As Aegon passes the table, he squeezes your shoulder—brief, familiar, welcome—and Fosco raises his thick eyebrows. Mimi is too busy gulping down her Gimlet to notice. Ludwika chuckles, low and wicked, then slides a makeup compact out of her Prada purse to check her lipstick. Aegon goes to the DJ and yells something over the music. He’s fucked up already, you can tell, pills or booze or both.

Fosco stops a passing waiter. “Signore, did you hear who won the United Nations Handicap?”

The waiter stares blankly back at him. “What?”

“The turf race at Monmouth Park. I have $200 on Dr. Fager.”

The DJ abruptly cuts off the music. Aegon gives his guitar a few practice strums to make sure it’s in tune. He stumbles when he walks, he lurches and sways. His blonde hair sticks to the sweat on his forehead. He is woefully underdressed. His white shirt is half-unbuttoned, his denim shorts tattered; on his feet he wears black moccasins. There is a small gold hoop in each of his ears. Otto keeps telling Aegon to take them out, and every time Aegon ignores him.

“Happy birthday, Mom,” you hear him say to Alicent, and she presses a palm to her heart, her dark eyes wide and shining. “When I first heard this, it made me think of you.”

Otto and Sargent Shriver—the aspiring vice president—are glowering at Aegon. Aemond smirks as he nips at an Old Fashioned, amused; but he makes sharp, intentional eye contact with each of the three journalists. You will tell the right version of this story, he means. You will not print anything we wouldn’t want written, or my family will be your enemies for life.

As soon as Aegon plucks the first few chords, you recognize the song. “Oh, that’s really funny.”

“What?” Fosco asks.

“It’s Mama Tried.” You stand and begin clapping, then motion for the rest of the table to do the same. They obey without protest, though Mimi can’t seem to keep track of the beat. Aegon is beaming as he sings.

“The first thing I remember knowin’

Was a lonesome whistle blowin’

And a youngin’s dream of growin’ up to ride

On a freight train leavin’ town

Not knowin’ where I'm bound

And no one could change my mind but Mama tried.”

Cosmo sprints over from where he had been dancing with Alicent. He grabs your hand and tugs you towards the center of the floor. “Let’s go, let’s go!” he shouts impatiently.

“Call the FBI, I’m being kidnapped,” you say to Fosco and Ludwika as you let Cosmo drag you away.

“One and only rebel child

From a family meek and mild

My Mama seemed to know what lay in store

Despite all my Sunday learnin’

Towards the bad I kept on turnin’

‘Til Mama couldn’t hold me anymore.”

At the heart of the ballroom, Criston has swooped in to dance with Alicent, slow chaste circling. Helaena has floated off to the bar to chat with Otto, who keeps all his smiles for her. The children—Targaryens and Shrivers alike—are stomping and cheering and alternating between various moves: the Mashed Potato, the Twist, the Swim, the Loco-Motion, the Watusi, the Pony in pairs. Aemond whistles to a photographer and then nods to where you are holding onto one of Cosmo’s tiny hands as he spins around at lawless, breakneck speed. Of course this would make for a good image: you being maternal, you promising the American people that they will one day have not only a first lady but a first family.

“And I turned 21 in prison doin’ life without parole

No one could steer me right but Mama tried, Mama tried

Mama tried to raise me better, but her pleading I denied

That leaves only me to blame ‘cause Mama tried.”

Cameras flash and the crowd keeps clapping. Cosmo giggles wildly each time he almost falls and you pull him back to his feet. There is a hand skimming around your waist, a listless powder blue dress your husband chose for you. Aemond replaces Cosmo as your dance partner. Aegon’s 10-year-old daughter Violeta spirits Cosmo away; Aemond reels you in close, one palm pressed into the small of your back, his left hand gripping your right. When you steal a glimpse of Aegon—still strumming, still singing—he doesn’t look so triumphant anymore. His grin is frozen and artificial. His drunk muddy eyes go steely.

“I need you to do something for me,” Aemond begins.

Of course, you once would have said. Anything. “What is it?”

“I want you to cut your hair like Jackie.”

You’re so stunned your feet stop moving. Aemond coaxes you back into the steps. “No.”

“Think about how much more versatile it would be. Jackie is an icon, she’s sophisticated, she’s mature.”

“If you wanted a wife in her thirties, you could have easily found one.”

“Honey—”

“I do everything you ask,” you say, barely more than a whisper. “Everything. I wear what you want me to. I go where you want me to. I spend ten hours a week getting my hair fixed. I keep it up, I keep it presentable. But I’m not chopping it off.”

“You’re never going to be able to wear it down anyway,” Aemond counters, so calm, so rational, like your skull is nothing but incendiary feminine mania. “If I win, you’ll be surrounded by staff and journalists for years. You can’t be photographed with it down, you look about eighteen. And like you live on a park bench in Haight-Ashbury.”

“It’s my hair. I’m keeping it.”

Aemond leans in and says, cold and severe: “You’re my wife, and everything that’s yours belongs to me.” Then he kisses your cheek as cameras click and strobe. “Think about it. Now smile.”

You force yourself to. The crowd applauds as Aegon finishes singing and flees the dancefloor. The DJ puts on Light My Fire by The Doors. You and Aemond leave in opposite directions: he goes to talk to Eunice Kennedy, who is hugging her 3-year-old son Anthony to her chest; you return to your table to drain the last of your Pink Squirrel. You need something stronger. You need to be alone so you can collect yourself.

Now Aegon has shed his guitar and is standing with his back to the wall, smoking a Lucky Strike and talking to some campaign staffer—she looks like a girl, but she’s probably your age—who is gazing up at him worshipfully. She says something that makes him laugh, his head thrown back, his eyes sparkling, and you feel like you’re waking up from your c-section all over again, your belly split open and rearranged, aching, stabbing, nauseous.

“Are you okay?” Ludwika asks, scrutinizing you.

“I’m perfect. I’ll be right back.”

You hurry out of the ballroom, the music fading behind you. You slip into one of the elevators in the lobby and hit the button for the top floor, where Aemond’s entourage has booked every suite. As the door is closing—as only a foot of space remains—Aegon shoves his way into the elevator, startling you. The door shuts behind him and you begin the ascent. Aegon slams the red emergency stop button, and the elevator jolts to a halt.

“What the hell are you doing—?!”

“What pissed you off, huh?” Aegon taunts, stepping closer. You back away from him until you run out of room; not because you want the distance, but because you’re afraid of what you’ll do if it’s gone.

“Nothing. I’m so great, I’ve never been better, can’t you tell?”

He’s so close you can feel the heat rising off his flushed skin, you can see the miles-deep murky blue of his irises, open water, shipwrecks and drowning. “You want all this to be over? You want the women with their big, adoring eyes and their short skirts to disappear? Grow up. Stop acting like a kid. Ask for it.”

“Ask for what?”

“You know.”

If you touch him now, you won’t be able to stop. There’s nowhere for us to go. There’s no way out of this family, this year, this world. “I don’t. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Aegon barks out a sardonic, cutting laugh. “Yeah, you’re definitely 23.”

“I thought you loved girls young enough to be your daughters. Isn’t that what gets you hard?”

“You’re a fucking coward.”

“You’re sweating on me, you pig.”

“You want it so bad,” Aegon whispers as he presses himself against you, his ribs and thighs and hips, and you clutch for the walls of the elevator so you don’t reach for him instead. His left hand is tearing your hair out of its clips and pins so it falls free like you used to wear it; the right is all over your face, your jaw, your chin, your cheeks, touching you ceaselessly, ravenously, a blind man reading chronicles of braille. You’re trying to turn away from him, but he keeps pulling you back in. You’re breathing his rum and nicotine, you’re gasping in low, starved moans. It might be more intimate than kissing, than sex. He’s already felt your body. What he asks for now is your soul. His words are warm and aching as he murmurs through loosed strands of your hair: “Tell me you want it, please, just tell me, just tell me, tell me and it’s yours.”

Your palms land on his bare, damp chest, and Aegon starts unfastening the last buttons of his shirt. Instead, you push him away. Aegon lets you. He surrenders. “I can’t,” you choke out. You hit the red button, and the elevator resumes its rise to the top floor of the hotel.

“I’m really fucked up right now,” he says with sudden realization, swaying, staring down at his feet like he fears he’ll lose track of them.

“I’m aware.”

“I’m sorry. I think…I think I wanted that to happen differently.”

“I can’t trust you when you’re like this,” you say. I feel like I can’t trust anyone. Aegon looks up at you, his glassy eyes large and wounded. When the elevator door opens, you step out and he stays in, riding it back to the lobby.

In the suite you share with Aemond, you turn on the radio and spin the dial until you find a Loretta Lynn song. You go to the minibar cabinet and down two tiny glass bottles of vodka, something that won’t make you smell like too much of a drunk. You’ll have to fix your hair before you go back to the ballroom; you’ll have to change your dress. You’re painted with Aegon’s sweat and smoke. You can’t risk your husband noticing. You slide open the top drawer of the nightstand on your side of the bed and take out the card you keep there, the one that travels with you to each stop on the campaign trail. Loretta Lynn croons from the radio, wronged and wrathful.

“If you don’t wanna go to Fist City

You’d better detour around my town

‘Cause I’ll grab you by the hair of your head

And I’ll lift you off of the ground

I'm not a-sayin’ my baby is a saint, ‘cause he ain’t

And that he won’t cat around with a kitty

I’m here to tell you, gal, to lay off of my man

If you don’t wanna go to Fist City.”

You lie on the floor and peer up at the card in your hands: jubilant cartoon cow, festive party hat. You know exactly what’s written on the inside; it’s etched into your memory like myths passed down through millennia. Nevertheless, you read it again. The original message is still crossed out, and there’s an addendum below it in hasty black ink: I thought this was blank…congrats on the new calf!

You graze your thumbprint across Aegon’s scrawled signature. It’s smudged now. You do this a lot. One day his name might disappear altogether from the stark white parchment, from memory.

You close the card and hug it to your chest like a mother holds a living child.

~~~~~~~~~~

“What’s going on between you and Aegon?”

Alarmed, you meet Aemond’s gaze, two reflections in the vanity mirror. It’s the next morning, and you’re finishing up your makeup. Your dress and jacket are striped with black and white, your jewelry is silver, chains on your wrists and small tasteful hoops in your ears. “Nothing.” There is a lull you have to fill before it becomes suspicious. “He’s been helpful, he’s been…you know. Ever since Mount Sinai.”

Aemond adjusts his cerulean blue tie, studying himself in the mirror. He’s still wearing his leather eyepatch. Putting in his glass eye is the last thing he does before leaving the suite each day. “He was a comfort to you.”

“Well, he was there.”

“Because I told him to be,” Aemond says, resting his hands on the back of your chair. “Someone had to stay at Asteria to keep tabs on things, to let me know what you were up to. Aegon was the most expendable. Mimi and the kids make for good photos, but Aegon…he’s not especially endearing to the public. Those few years as the mayor of Trenton just about ruined him. I’d love to make him the attorney general if I win, but I don’t think the people would stomach it. Maybe if he behaves himself he can have the job for my second term.”

Eight years, you think, unable to fathom it. Eight years in a fishbowl. Eight years lying under Aemond as he tries to get me pregnant with children neither of us can love.

Aemond leans down to touch his lips to the side of your throat. “I’m glad you’re finally friends,” he says. “Aegon’s not all bad. But don’t let him get you in trouble.”

“I wouldn’t.” What did you and Aemond talk about before Ari died? What was this marriage built on? The senate, the presidency, civil rights, poverty, the Space Race, Vietnam, Greek mythology. Everything but each other. Dreams and ideals that would dwarf any mortal, would render them invisible.

“And watch out for any reporters from the Wall Street Journal. They’d kill for Nixon. If they can twist your words, they will.” He gets something from inside his own nightstand: the bloodstained komboskini from when he was shot in Palm Beach. He places it in your right hand, all 100 knots. “Give this to someone today. You know how to do it, you’ve always understood this part. Pick the right person, the right moment. Make sure there are plenty of cameras around.”

“Where am I going? Lunch with the mayor’s wife, that’s this afternoon, isn’t it?”

Aemond nods. “And a few other stops. Then we’re going to the Alamo in San Antonio tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

He recoils, reaches for the left half of his face, kneads the scar tissue there as nerve pain radiates through his flesh all the way down to the bone. Once you felt such agonizing pity for him; now all you can think about is the matching scar you wear on your belly, hidden and shameful and a badge of your inadequacies: your body too weak to protect Ari, your mind too pliable to resist being ensnared by the crushing gravity of this man, this family, this life.

“How can I help?” you ask Aemond, because it’s the right thing to do. And randomly, you find yourself remembering the statue of Apollo in Helaena’s garden back at Asteria, the god of music, healing, truth, prophesy.

“You can’t.” Aemond goes to the bathroom to force his glass eye into its socket. You depart for the hotel lobby where Ludwika and Mimi, your companions for the day, are already waiting. Ludwika is wearing a rose pink Chanel skirt suit. Mimi—relatively functional, as she hasn’t been awake long enough to ruin herself yet—is dressed in delicate dove grey.

Alicent, Helaena, and the children are scheduled to tour a local high school and library; Criston, unsurprisingly, is going with them. Aemond, accompanied by Otto, has a series of meetings with local business leaders and politicians. Aegon and Fosco are headed to the Michael E. DeBakey Veterans Affairs Medical Center to promise maimed soldiers that Aemond will end the war that carved out bits of them and filled the voids with screaming nightmares. The limousine you share with Ludwika and Mimi ferries you first to the NASA’s Manned Spacecraft Center. Mimi is entranced by the reflective surface of the helmets, coated with gold to divert blinding sunbeams; in turn, the astronauts are entranced by Ludwika, who leaves lipstick smudges on their cheeks when she kisses them. Next is a tea party hosted by Iola Faye Cure Welch, the mayoress of Houston since 1964 and the mother of five children. And as you nibble daintily at triangle-shaped sandwiches and trudge through small talk about flowers and furniture, you can’t stop smiling. You can’t stop thinking about how ridiculous Aegon would think this is if he was here.

The driver mentions one last stop, then coasts through midafternoon traffic towards the city center. You spend the ride touching up your hair and makeup. Ludwika offers to let you borrow her seduction-red lipstick; you politely decline. You step out of the limo and shield your eyes from the glare of the Texas sun. It takes your vision a moment to adjust, and then you realize where you are. The sign above the main entranceway reads: Houston Methodist Hospital. The air snags in your throat, your lungs are empty. Your hands tremble violently. The earth rocks beneath your white high heels. Mount Sinai is the last hospital you walked into, and you left with your son in a casket so small it could have been mistaken for a shoebox.

“Alright, let’s go,” Ludwika says, linking an arm through yours. Mimi, badly in need of a drink, is looking deflated and edgy. “We are almost done. And I have been promised a medium-rare steak for dinner! Mushrooms and onions too! The Statue of Liberty did not lie. This country is a golden door.”

“I can’t.”

Ludwika stares at you. “What?”

“I can’t, I can’t go in there.”

“What is she talking about?” Ludwika asks Mimi, who shakes her head, mystified.

“I can’t,” you whimper.

They’ve never seen you like this. They don’t know what to do. They listen to you, that is the hierarchy; but it’s too late to change course now. Journalists are approaching in a swarm. Nurses and doctors are gathering by the front door to welcome you.

He knew, you think, suddenly furious. Aemond knew, and he didn’t tell me.

“It will be okay,” Ludwika says, patting your back awkwardly. “We are here with you. Nothing bad will happen.”

“Oh,” Mimi breathes, understanding. She looks at you with sympathy that shimmers on the surface of the opaque, polluted lake of her mind. Then she catches Ludwika’s eye and skims a hand down her own slim midsection. Ari, she mouths, and Ludwika’s face falls.

The doctors and nurses are whistling and applauding; the journalists are snapping photos and scrounging for quotes. You feel your conditioning over the past two years taking over: straight posture, gentle smile, hands clasped demurely together. But you are locked away somewhere underneath.

“Do not worry,” Ludwika tells you softly. “We will talk, we will make it easier for you.” Then she and Mimi begin boisterously shaking hands and thanking people for coming as you make your way through the crowd of journalists and towards the main entrance of the hospital.

People are saying things to you, but you don’t really hear them. You reply with words you won’t remember afterwards. You nod frequently and go wherever you are led. Doctors are explaining new research into placenta previa and c-sections. Nurses are showing you a state-of-the-art NICU for premature infants. Someone is placing a baby in your arms, and you can’t do anything but accept it numbly. You can’t look down at it, you can’t allow yourself to feel the weight of some other woman’s child. You wear your smile like armor and let the photographers capture their snapshots, painting a frame around you, deciding where you live.

Then you are introduced to the parents, women in hospital beds and men perched in chairs beside them, just like the one where Aegon slept at Mount Sinai. They take your hands when you offer them and tell you about their small children, sick children, dying children. One patient just delivered twins. The first did not survive beyond a few hours, but the second is in an incubator and gaining strength. You recall the komboskini stained with Aemond’s blood and take it out of your purse, give it to the suffering mother, watch faith rise in her face like dawn over the Atlantic. But you won’t remember her. You cannot allow yourself to.

Outside as you, Ludwika, and Mimi are headed back to the limousine, the journalists make one last attempt to poach a headline-worthy quote. “Mrs. Targaryen! Mrs. Targaryen!” a young man shouts, clambering to the front of the horde and jabbing a microphone in your face. “I’m from the Houston Chronicle. Can you tell me how the senator feels about the failure of the most recent phase of the Tet Offensive?”

You are in a fog; you don’t feel real, this moment and this city don’t feel real, and so you cannot remember what Aemond would want you to say. “The Vietnam War has claimed too many lives already. We should have never sent our men there to die. But since that is done, the best thing we can do now is end the draft immediately and then withdrawal from the region as soon as the South Vietnamese are able to defend their own territory, which is their responsibility.” The journalist already considers this effort fruitful and begins to retreat, but you have one last point to make. Ludwika and Mimi watch you anxiously. “I lost someone in Vietnam. I met him when I was in college. He had a good heart, and he joined because he thought it was wrong for poor men to have to fight while rich kids got exemptions, and he was killed in action in October of 1965.”

“This was a friend?” the journalist asks, eyes glowing hungrily. Then he adds as an afterthought: “I’m terribly sorry for your loss.”

“A boyfriend. Corporal Cameron Marino from Schenectady, New York. People called him Cam.”

A solemn murmur ripples through the crowd. Hats are removed, hands held to chests. “Rest in peace, Cam,” someone says. Maybe they have somebody they care about in Vietnam, a friend or a lover or a brother. You wave goodbye and climb into the limousine. The outpouring swells as you vanish: We love you, Mrs. Targaryen! God bless you, Mrs. Targaryen!

In the lobby of the Texas State Hotel, you tell Ludwika and Mimi not to follow you. They have to listen. After some hesitation, Mimi heads for the bar in the ballroom; Ludwika asks the staff at the front desk if she’ll be able to make a call to Poland with the phone in her room. You take the elevator to the top floor. Fosco is in the hallway, on his way back from one of the vending machines with a Fresca. When he sees your face, his jaw drops.

“Dio mio, what happened?”

“Nothing,” you say, tears biting in your eyes. You pass him, digging your key out of your purse.

“Are you sure—?”

“Fosco, please. I don’t want to talk.”

“Okay,” he says doubtfully. Then he seems to get an idea and strides away with great purpose. You take shelter in your suite, silent and dim; Aemond isn’t back yet. You brace yourself against the locked door and sob into empty, trembling hands, at last hidden away where no one can see you, where no one can be disturbed or disappointed. You know now that none of it was healed—not the loss, not the revelations—but only buried, and now it’s all been unearthed again and the pain shrieks like exposed nerves.

It’s not fair. Ari deserved better, I deserved better.

There’s nothing you can do. Your hands ache to hold someone that no longer exists. You can’t unlearn the truth of what your marriage is.

There are two knocks, quick and rough. “Hey, it’s me.” And there’s such pure intimacy in those words. You know my voice. You know why I’m here. “Open the door.”

“I’m okay, just, just, just leave me alone—”

“Open the door,” Aegon says again. “Or I’ll get security up here to do it for you.”

Swiping the tears from your face, you let him in. He’s dressed in baggy black shorts, nothing on his feet, an unbuttoned stolen green army jacket. You once thought he wore those to play the part of a revolutionary from the comfort of his East Coast seaside mansion. Now you understand it’s because he misses Daeron, because he believes he should have gone to Vietnam instead. There are several dog tags strung around his neck; some of the veterans at the medical center he visited must have gifted them to him.

“What’s wrong?” Aegon’s eyes sweep over you, seeking, horrified. “What did he do?”

You can’t answer, you can’t breathe. You back away from him as more tears spill down your cheeks.

“Hey, hey, hey, let me help you. Please don’t be upset. Did he say something, did he hurt you?” Aegon reaches out, and as soon as he touches you your knees buckle and you’re on the floor, trying not to wail, trying not to scream, and Aegon is pulling you against his chest—bare skin, borrowed metal—and his hands are on your face and in your hair, and his lips are against your forehead as he murmurs: “Shh, shh, don’t cry. It’s okay.”

“No it’s not.”

“Whatever it is, I can help.”

“I had to go to a hospital and hold babies and I, I, I never even got to touch him, not once, not ever, and I can’t now because he’s gone. He’s locked in some fucking vault, he’s just bones, but he was supposed to be a person, and those other babies are going to get to grow up but he isn’t, and it’s not fair.”

“You’re right,” Aegon agrees softly, still holding you.

“No one else knew him.”

“I did. I was there the whole time.”

“Only because Aemond made you stay.”

“No,” Aegon swears. “I was supposed to spy on you. He never told me to do any of the rest of it. I stayed because I wanted to.”

“You did,” you say, very quietly, weakly, conceding.

“And I’m still here now.”

Your lungs aren’t burning quite so much. Your tears are slowing. You unravel yourself from Aegon, averting your eyes. Now you’re ashamed; you aren’t in the habit of revealing to people how much you’re splintering like cracked glass, fresh fractures every time you think to check the damage. “I’m, um, I’m really sorry.”

“Look, I don’t mean to bring up unpleasant memories, but this is definitely not the most embarrassing thing I’ve seen you do.”

You laugh, only for a few seconds, and Aegon smiles as he mops the tears from your face with the sleeve of his army jacket. Then he turns serious again.

“Can I ask you something? It’s very personal. It’s offensive, honestly. But I have to know.”

“You can ask.”

“Do you want more children?”

More children. Because Ari was real. “Not now. Not with Aemond.”

Aegon nods, suspicions confirmed. “Can you do that sponge thing you told me about?”

“No. I think he’d be able to feel it, he’s…” You gesture vaguely. It’s difficult to say. “He’s big.”

Aegon didn’t want to hear that. He didn’t want to have to think about it. He flinches, just enough that you notice. But as much as he’d like to, he doesn’t change the subject. “What about the pill?”

“No doctor is going to write me a prescription without my husband’s permission. Especially considering who my husband is.”

“I hate this fucking country,” Aegon hisses. “Puritanical goddamn hellscape. Old Testament bullshit.” He drags his fingers through his hair a few times, then pats your cheek like he did before: twice, gently, playfully. “Come on. Let’s go smoke.”

“I can’t do it on the balcony. Someone might get a picture.”

“Okay. No big deal. We’ll go to the roof.”

You stare at him. “The roof?”

“You really think I haven’t already been up there?” He stands and offers you his hand. “You’ll love it. The view is fantastic.”

The view is good, but the grass is better. You know that it makes some people useless, others paranoid, but for you it’s always painted the world a color that is softer, kinder, lighter, more bearable. You and Aegon lie next to each other, smoking and watching twilight fall over Houston like a spell. You’ll have to shower and gulp some Listerine before Aemond gets anywhere near you. It’s interesting; each day you seem to acquire new secrets to keep from him.

Aegon asks: “Where would you be right now if you weren’t Mrs. Targaryen?”

“Probably married to someone worse.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Okay, but let’s say you weren’t. Let’s say you can do whatever you want.” He points up at the lavender sky and acts like he’s moving the emerging glimmers of stars around with his fingertip. “There, I’ve changed your fate. Who would you be?”

You ponder this. “I want to teach math to kids and then spend every summer break getting baked on some beach.”

Aegon cackles. “Hell, sign me up.” He lights a third joint for himself with his tiny chrome Zippo. “Those are the people doing the real work. Teachers, nurses, farmers electricians, plumbers, welders, firemen, therapists, janitors, public defenders. The normal, unglamorous types.”

“You don’t think presidents and senators make a difference?”

“Sure they do. But only like 5% of the job is actually helping people. The rest of it is schmoozing and tea parties and making speeches, because looking and sounding good is better than doing good. They’re addicted to vapid pretenses that make them feel important. You live like that and you forget how to be a human. I mean, look at Nixon. The man was raised as a Quaker, one of the most peaceful religions on earth, and now he’s planning to throw ten or twenty thousand more boys into the great Vietnamese meatgrinder and probably napalm the hell out of Cambodia and Laos while he’s at it to get the communists’ supply lines. The man’s got no idea who he is anymore. I’d feel sorry for him if I wasn’t so terrified he’s gonna start World War III.”

I wonder who Aemond was a few decades ago. “What makes you feel important?”

“Nothing,” Aegon says. “I’m not under any delusions that I matter.”

“I think you matter, old man.”

“Really?”

“A little bit. About this much.” You hold your hand up to show him the infinitesimal space between your thumb and index finger, and Aegon chuckles, his eyes glazed and bloodshot.

“Let’s do it,” he says with sudden, forceful conviction. “If Nixon wins in November, we’ll get out of here. I’ll go back to Yuma to teach on the reservation and you can come with me. You get a math class, I take English, or Music, or both, whatever. We’ll buy a bungalow out in the desert and make s’mores every night and look up at the stars. I’ll show you how to play guitar if you give me algebra lessons.”

You peek over at him, intrigued. “Is that all we’re going to do?”

“Well we’ll fuck, obviously.”

“Oh, obviously.” You giggle; it’s ridiculous, it’s paradisical, it’s insane how good it sounds. But surely that’s only because you’re high. “I don’t know how Mimi would feel about that.”

“She won’t care. She doesn’t want me anymore, hasn’t in years. Sometimes she just forgets that when she’s wasted. Mimi can go to Arizona too. We’ll load up the kids in a van and strap her to the roof.”

Now your voice is somber. “She was supposed to fix you.”

“Yeah,” Aegon says: slow, meditative, guilty. “I think Mimi and I have a few too many of the same demons.”

You roll over, push yourself up on your palms, and crawl to the edge of the rooftop. You prop your elbows on the ledge and gaze out into the city lights, the sky turning from violet to indigo to primordial darkness. Aegon joins you, staring down at the distant aquamarine rectangle of the hotel pool.

He asks: “You think I could make that?”

“No.”

“Should I try?”

“You definitely shouldn’t.”

“A few months ago, you would have pushed me off this roof.”

You shrug. “You’ve proved yourself useful.”

“That’s why you like me now? Because I’m useful?”

“Who said I like you?” you tease, smiling.

“You like me,” Aegon says, grinning and smug, radiant in the silver moonlight and urban incandescence. “You like me so much it scares you. But there’s no need to panic. It’s okay. I know the feeling.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You want to touch him, you want him to touch you, you want to study every arc and angle of him like he’s a marble statue in a garden: too beautiful to be mortal, too fragile to be divine.

~~~~~~~~~~

Three nights later in Nebraska, there is a knock on the door of your hotel suite. The nannies have herded the children off to bed; the adults are unwinding downstairs in the courtyard of the Sheraton Omaha, designed to resemble an Italian garden. There’s a brand new Jacuzzi that you’re looking forward to taking a dip in. You finish pulling on your swimsuit, white and patterned with sunflowers, a one-piece with a flared skirt.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Richard Nixon,” Aegon says through the door. “Naked. Horny. Please love me.”

You laugh and let him in. He’s leaning against the doorframe in Hawaiian swim trunks and nothing else, pink sunburn glowing on his soft chest. He holds up a brown paper bag and shakes it.

“For you.”

“What is it, heroin?” Instead, you open the bag to find small, circular packs of pills. “No way. You did not.”

“That’s enough for six months,” Aegon says, smirking, proud of himself. “I’ll be back again in February. Guess that makes me your dealer, babe. I don’t accept cash, checks, or cards, only sexual favors. You want to get down on your knees, or should I?”

“How did you get these?”

“I told a doctor they’re for one of my whores.”

“Maybe they are.”

You’ve surprised him, you’ve got him thinking about it now. His face flushes a splotchy, charming pink. “So, uh, you coming down to the courtyard?”

“Yeah. Right now. Just let me hide these first. Are there instructions in here…?”

“Mm hmm,” Aegon says, still distracted, studying the entirely unremarkable carpet. You stow the paper bag of birth control pills in the bottom of your bras and panties drawer, then walk with Aegon to take the elevator down to the ground floor. You both notice the bright red emergency stop button and share a glance, smirking, taunting.

In the courtyard, Alicent is struggling to pay attention as Helaena identifies each and every species of plant and explains where in the world it is native to. Fosco is simultaneously teaching Criston how to yo-yo and berating him for not believing the Cubs will end up in the World Series. Fosco has apparently bet $500 on them. Ludwika is stretched out on a lounge chair like a cat and reading a copy of Cosmopolitan. Aemond, wearing his eyepatch and a blue pair of swim trunks, appears to be arguing with Otto over the contents of a newspaper article. Mimi is alone in the Jacuzzi, bubbles rumbling all around her as she slumps against the rim, a frosty Gimlet clutched in one hand.

“Mimi, get out of the Jacuzzi,” you order.

“I’m fine!” she slurs, and you groan, knowing you’re going to have to drag her out.

Aemond is approaching; no, not approaching, raging. “What the hell is wrong with you? What the fuck is this?” He hurls the newspaper at you, the Houston Chronicle. The headline reads: To Mrs. Targaryen, ending the Vietnam War is personal. “Why would you tell somebody that? Other papers are going to start reporting this. You gave them his full name. They’ve found his school, his friends, his gravesite in motherfucking Arlington National Cemetery—”

“You set me up,” you say. “You didn’t tell me about the hospital.”

Aegon takes the newspaper from you and frantically skims the article. “Hey, man,” he tells Aemond as he pieces it together, attempting to deescalate. It’s not a skill you knew he possessed. “She was rattled, she wasn’t thinking clearly. And there’s nothing bad in this article. It makes her sound invested and sympathetic, not…um…whatever you’re thinking.”

“You don’t get it,” Aemond seethes. “Journalists are going to start hounding his friends, his classmates, people who lived in his dorm building. Nixon’s newspapers will publish any gossip they can dig up about what she did when she was in school. Things people saw, things people overheard—”

“What, the fact that she had one boyfriend before she met you? That’s worthy of a nuclear meltdown?! Better prepare for Armageddon, a woman got laid, launch the goddamn warheads!”

“She doesn’t get to have a past! She should understand that, she signed up for this, she knew exactly what was expected of her!”

“And what about your past?” Aegon says, low and searing, and Aemond goes quiet. Their eyes are locked on each other: Aegon defiant, Aemond unnerved. You try to remember if you’ve ever seen that expression on his face before. You don’t think you have. Not even when he was shot and half-blinded. Not even when Ari died.

“What does that mean?” you ask your husband. Still staring at Aegon—tangled in a thorny, silent battle of wills—he doesn’t reply.

There are swift, thudding footsteps. Otto grabs Aegon by his hair, hooks a finger through the small gold hoop in his right ear, and tears it straight through the earlobe. Aegon screams as blood streams down his face, feeling the ravaged fringes of his flesh.

“I told you to take those out,” Otto says. “Now remove the other one before I rip it free, and go get yourself stitched up.”

You do something you’ve never done before, never even thought of. You strike out with both hands and shove Otto so hard he goes staggering backwards, his arms wheeling. The others are yelling and rushing over. Aemond is trying to yank you to him, but he can’t get a grip on your swimsuit. “I will kill you!” you roar at Otto. “I will push you down a staircase, I will slit your fucking throat, don’t you ever touch him!”

Alicent is weeping, appalled, trying to get a look at Aegon’s damaged ear. Criston is helping her, moving Aegon’s bloodied hair out of the way. Fosco links his arms around your waist and drags you out of Aemond’s reach just as he’s getting his fingers beneath a strap of your swimsuit. Helaena is covering her face with her hands and wailing. Ludwika is shrieking at Otto: “What did you do? Don’t give me that, what did you do?!”

You are engulfed with rage, red and irresistible. You’re trying to bolt out of Fosco’s grasp. You want to claw Otto’s eyes out; you want to put a bullet in him. As you struggle, you catch a glimpse of the Jacuzzi. You don’t see Mimi anymore.

“Wait,” you plead, but nobody hears you over the noise. You look desperately at Fosco. “Where’s Mimi?!”

Once he figures out what you’re trying to say, he whirls towards the Jacuzzi. “No!” he bellows, releasing you, and careens across the courtyard. You dash after him. Now the others understand, and they come running too. You see it just before Fosco dives in: there is a shadow at the bottom of the Jacuzzi. When he bursts up though the roiling water, he is carrying Mimi, limp and unconscious and blue.

Everyone is shouting at once. Fosco lays Mimi down on the cobblestones of the courtyard. Criston sends Ludwika to call an ambulance, kneels beside Mimi, checks for a pulse. Then he begins CPR. When he breathes air into her flooded lungs, there is no response, no resurrection.

“No, no, no, she has to be alright!” Aemond says, and everyone knows why. If she’s not, this will consume the headlines for days: no victorious campaigning, no speeches or photos, just a drowned alcoholic with a damning autopsy report.

“Oh my god,” Otto moans, pacing. “This can’t be happening, not this year, not now…”

Alicent seizes your hand and squeezes it until you think it will break. She is reciting prayers in Greek. Helaena is curled up under a butterfly bush, sobbing hysterically. When he realizes this, Otto hurries to comfort her.

“Don’t watch, Helaena. Let’s go inside, I’ll walk with you, there’s nothing more we can do here.”

“Mimi?!” Aegon commands, slapping her hard across the face. “Mimi, come on, wake up! Mimi? Mimi!” She’s still motionless, she’s still blue. Aegon turns to you, blood smeared all over the right side of his face. He’s petrified, he’s in shock. “I think she’s…she’s…”

“She’s gone,” Criston says; and he lifts his palms from her hollow body. The silent sky above is a labyrinth of bad stars.

[akutasoda]

hello, blade, dan heng, jing yuan and aventurine comforting a teen!reader who had a nightmare?

teenage night terrors

synopsis - how are they with a teen having nightmares?

includes- dan heng, blade, jing yuan, aventurine

warnings - gn!teen!reader, fluff, wc - 711

dan heng ★↷

↪the expert when it comes to having nightmares. he frequently has them, about memories that aren't his, about that stellaron hunter, it doesn't matter. they keep him up, tossing and turning trying to find a small bit of solace.

↪more often than not he wakes up in a cold sweat and dreads going back to sleep. so if you were struggling with nightmares, he'd let you sneak into the data bank as he'd likely be up - or dan heng would tell you to wake him.

↪if you wanted, dan heng would go through old entries of the data bank with you, sort of like bedtime stories to ease your mind, and his, from the nightmares. or really he'd do whatever you wanted to. it didn't matter that much to him, dan heng had been suffering with nightmares for ages, nothing has worked for his.

↪so he'd rather do whatever helped yours, hopefully helping to get rid of them completely - he didn't have hope to do so for his. honestly, he'd be the best of the express to go to for nightmares, he's certainly the most experienced with them.

blade ★↷

↪blade was also not a stranger to nightmares. everything after he became forced to be mara stricken was considered a living nightmare to him, and that translated into his subconscious. they tormented him but he tried to ignore them. not let them bother him, and over the years he'd become rather good at that.

↪so when you first came to him for help with yours, he first questioned your decision. blade wasn't exactly the best with advice, let alone helping someone - he would've expected you to go to kafka if anyone, perhaps she could even get rid of them with her spirit whispers.

↪his advice was blunt, unsurprisingly. he didn't exactly make his advice helpful either, blade kind of just settled to helping you with whatever you wanted to do. he was fine with being woken up by you.

↪although he may be one of the worst to go to for such issues, he tried his best. probably wouldn't help you much but the sentiment was there.

jing yuan ★↷

↪probably the only one here that doesn't have nightmares frequently, sure he's not invincible to the occasional one but the dozing general wouldn't doze off so often if he did.

↪although, jing yuan probably has had experience with helping people with nightmares. yanqing has perhaps had a couple and sought out jing yuan for comfort so he probably knows how to comfort you if you ever came to him in the dead of night after having a nightmare.

↪it probably would take you a lot of effort to stir him from his sleep, but once he was and knew you were having nightmares, he was awake and ready to comfort you. soothing you would be his main goal at first, help you take your mind of whatever the nightmare was.

↪he'd listen to you, do whatever you wanted and tried to help in whatever way he could - mimi was also a very good cure for nightmares if jing yuan couldn't help.

aventurine ★↷

↪a third person who was no stranger with nightmares. aventurine used to have them about his homeland, but more frequently now they were about that and the events of penacony - more so about his time in that dark void, or kakavasha.

↪although, he wasn't good at dealing with them. they made him wake up in a cold sweat and dwelled on the faint recollection of the nightmare, struggling to fall asleep again. so when you approached him, he was at a loss for words.

↪firstly, he was baffled that you'd turn to him for help. him. out all people. secondly, he was rather stunned and genuinely didn't know what to do to even help you a little bit. aventurine himself didn't know how to help his own nightmares, let alone someone else's.

↪but he didn't want to leave you disappointed, especially when you came to him specifically. he would try and give you advice, but it was mainly him listening to you and helping you with what you suggested.

taglist - @little-miss-chaoss, @frankiesteinn

[pinkeos]

Aventurine, Dr Ratio, Jing Yuan, Blade when you bring home/adopt a puppy

Warning/s: None

Notes: i'm a dog person so🧍

aventurine already has three cat cake critters and he loves them, but when you bring home a puppy, asking him with pleading eyes if you could keep it (he swore the pup was also giving him puppy eyes), he couldn't say no.

he'd be so enthusiastic with pets, like he'd buy matching accessories for the critters and your puppy. he wouldn't hold back in buying essentials like the best food and most comfortable beds

aventurine is the type that would send you numerous pictures of your pets, especially when he catches them sleeping in the cutest positions or doing the silliest things

he'd be worried at first if the critters would adapt well with the addition of the puppy, so imagine how happy he is when he sees them all buddy buddy

he bought them their own beds and all, but he'd still allow them to sleep on your shared bed with the both of you. you once had to hold yourself back from laughing when he pouted at you, your puppy sleeping between you two which didn't let him cuddle with you. he ended up cuddling with the puppy anyway

whenever none of you could stay at home due to work, he'd hire only the best pet sitters in town to take care of his babies and he'd ask for updates almost every hour

ratio, straight up, the ‘keep that dog away from me’ but is so close with the dog after a few weeks type

like, when you first brought the dog home, you had to convince him that you should keep it and that you could take good care of it, promising that it wouldn't get in the way of his work

he's reluctant, even nagging you that you'd have to be extra responsible with the animal, but agreeing nonetheless

you didn't know how it happened, but it just did, ratio’s now closer to your dog than you were for some reason. it'd sleep by his feet whenever he was in his home office reading or grading his student’s papers, which was news because he initially forbid the dog to go anywhere near his office

for someone who claimed to not want the dog, he's quite hands on with taking care of it. he'd make a schedule for when it should eat, sleep, and play even though it wouldn't be followed most of the time

he'd also discuss with you about which food is best for the new member of the family like it was some sort of research paper, he'll make sure that the dog will have a good and balanced diet and that it stays healthy

he’d be the type to keep a close eye on his dog when he takes it to a pet salon, making sure the staff doesn't hurt it or make it uncomfortable

jing yuan isn't opposed to having pets, he's got mimi. plus how could he resist the whines and coos from the puppy you held?

he'd introduce your puppy to mimi ever so gently, making sure they got along so you'd have no problem with the two coexisting in the same house

puppies are more often hyper than cats, but it must be jing yuan's influence rubbing on them, because him, the puppy, and mimi could often be seen napping together

like, it'd be so cute to see jing yuan sleeping with a soft smile, leaning back on the white lion and holding the puppy to his chest like it was his child. you have several pictures of them three just sleeping in your phone

yanqing loved to play with the puppy too. whenever the boy’s practice was over, he'd play with it, running around the general’s backyard with the puppy in tow as he led it like a general leading his soldiers to battle

whenever you’re both busy, he'd volunteer to take the puppy to his office so it'd be a common sight to see the general briefing some of the cloud knights while a puppy playfully bit and tugged at his coat

blade would appear nonchalant when you first proposed to adopt a puppy, telling you to do whatever you want

at first, he'd steer clear of the puppy when it first arrived in the house, but as the days passed, the puppy would linger around him. he'd gently nudge it away from him, telling it to run along but the puppy would only wag its tail and bark happily up at him

the little dog would follow him around the house, and he'd stare at it for a while, then go back to whatever he's doing. the day he finally crouched down and gave the puppy a pat on the head was the day he knew he couldn't keep ignoring the fluffy animal any longer

he's so chill with the dog, watching it silently as it tries to pull the toy from his hand in a game of tug of war, rubbing its belly and feeding it treats behind your back when you tell him it's had enough for the day

when he's out on a mission, he'd subtly ask about the puppy and what it's up to, ignoring the snicker he received from silver wolf at the way he intently and fondly watched the video you sent him of his puppy

he's so chill with his dog but the moment someone tries to hurt or look at it badly, he'd give them a deadly glare to make them back off

there was a time when he sat on the couch, muddled thoughts of the past making its way back into his mind. he didn't want it to cloud his mind, to make the mara resurface yet again especially when he's in your shared home and he could hurt you and the puppy

but those thoughts were cut off when he heard a whine. looking down, the puppy sat next to him, placing its muzzle on top of his thigh as it looked up at him as if worried. it was as if it could understand what he was feeling and it wanted to comfort him. if you saw him embracing the dog, you didn't speak about it

[oh-koenig-my-koenig]

comforting him

(cw: age gap 25/41; nightterrors, scars from injury, könig is having a shitty day, smoking, a bit of angst maybe, smut nsfw, mdni 18+)

the part before: going for a walk

It isn’t always fun and games, like the first time König had nightterrors while I was sleeping next to him.

The scream that woke me up. My disorientation until I knew what’s going on. His big body shaking next to mine. His arms trying to hold onto something. That something being me. And I talked to him, trying to get him grounded in reality again. Soft words, whatever came to mind.

After a while he calmed down, but he didn’t want to talk about it, which is… understandable.

And it happened again today, his pained shouts pulling me from my sleep. My smaller body hanging onto his bigger, trembling one, almost shoving me off me him when he snaps out of it.

I have to tell him at least five times that I’m okay, that he didn’t hurt me at all, that nothing happened to me. And even then, he doesn’t seem fully convinced.

We both don’t sleep the rest of the night. Just sitting in the living room, listening to music. I get up every time to change the vinyl or flip it to the B-side, then snuggling back into his lap.

He looks exhausted and I just want to take his discomfort away, but I don’t know how. So I just resort to softly stroking over his shoulders and back, calming him like that.

I try not to see the scars that adorn his body, cutting through the tattoos here and there. Sometimes destroying the motive that already was there. Sometimes seeming like they were worked into the design because they already were there before. My hands caress over his warm skin, trying not to linger too long in one spot. To not think about all the injuries, or about him going on another mission. Probably sooner than later.

He always holds me close to him when I sit on his lap. Just tonight it feels a little bit more like he’s holding onto me not the other way around. Not to slip away.

In the morning, I go to work, König slipping back under the covers while I get dressed.

"Get some more rest, hm?", I tell him, caressing over his cheek before giving it a little kiss. "If you can." I don't know what else to say.

He just looks so tired, dark circles under his eyes. For once looking his age – or even older.

He grabs my hand, pressing his lips to my knuckles, grunting softly instead of an answer. I press his fingers before slipping out of his hold and leaving the bedroom, quietly closing the door.

I drive myself to work, yawning a little more than usually while answering emails, getting myself an extra coffee. My mind coming back to him every so often, sighing. Remembering the panic on his face, the empty look in his eyes afterwards. Cut off, inwardly suffering, silent.

When I return home, looking to hug the big guy and give him a big kiss, ask him how he is doing, he is nowhere to be found.

"König?" I call out.

Where is he? I check all the rooms, kitchen and living room at first. There isn't a trace of him, no food cooking on the stove, his glasses set aside next to the book he's currently reading.

Mimi is sleeping on the couch, the little kitty basking in the sun that is falling in through the window.

I think for a moment, almost running upstairs, but no. He wouldn't be up there, he doesn't use the office and I can't hear the shower. So I head downstairs, to the home gym. Usually, he works out while I'm at work, already showered and fresh when I return. But I don't know where else he would be. He surely would have texted me if he had gone out.

I crack the door open a little, peaking my head in. And there he is, wrecking the punching bag that's hanging from the ceiling.

Thud thud thud.

Thwack.

His fists hitting the leather repeatedly, before smacking the palm into it.

The headset is sitting fast on his head, his hair loosely tied together. His shorts tight around his thighs, his muscle shirt sweaty like the rest of him. And I try to ignore how good he looks like that.

His movements come to a halt, seeing me in the corners of his eyes, only doing a half-turn in my direction.

"Hey, how are yo-", I start, but he interrupts me, pushing one of the headphones back.

"What?", he says, louder than necessary and the impatience in his voice startles me.

"I was just-", I repeat, but the look on his face shuts me up as he finally meets my gaze. I feel like I'm intruding, disturbing him when I shouldn't be, and for a moment I don't even know what to say. Startled.

He doesn’t say anything, just stares.

My mouth drops open, hoping the right words come out, but they don't. The way he looks at me... I can't deal with. The simmering anger, the arrogance the way his chin tilts up, the brows more furrowed than I've ever seen them before.

I shake my head, breaking the eye contact for a moment, just to get away from his stare. "Uh, just- I'm sorry for disturbing you.", I finally press out, slipping back, heading out the room again.

Before I turn around, I see the anger on his face dissipate into frustration and something else I can't put my finger on it.

I rush out the door and up to living room, pacing around until Mimi comes up to me, and I pick the kitty up. Snuggling the little furball. Contemplating if it might be better to pack up my stuff. Give him his space.

I shake my head. No, that would be shitty too. Running away because he has a shitty day.

I sigh. I feared that something like that might happen when I was hesitant to go stay with him. And it's not like he shouldn't be allowed to have shitty days. I just don't really know what to do about them. Yet.

I hear steps, heavy thuds on the stairs, coming to a halt, and I turn to look.

He just stands there, on the top stair, almost hitting his head on the staircase above. The headphones around his neck, his hair falling down into his face. Just looking at me, his arms hanging to his sides, his shoulders slumped down. The distance between us too great, but he doesn't dare come closer.

"I'm sorry, Liebes.", he says, his voice hoarse, the words quieter than I would have thought. Defeat and apology in his expression.

I just stand there, looking at him. I mean, I knew he had troubles. The self-imposed lonesomeness. And I'm not talking about staying home a lot, preferring to be by himself. The stuff about his work that he doesn't want to talk about. The nightterrors, just like today. I don't fully believe him when he says, he doesn't have them often.

The scowl on his face when he thinks I'm not looking. The simmering anger that's seemingly always there. Directed at himself rather than the people around him. Well, most of the time at least.

"It's okay.", I finally say.

He shakes his head, making a step forward, just a small one. "It's not." He sighs. "I'm usually better at hiding... it." Another step. "I'm not angry with you, I swear."

I sigh too. I knew that but apparently, I still needed to hear him say it. A soft sad smile stalks onto my face as I come closer until I'm standing before him.

"You shouldn't need to hide it.", I say, snuggling into his chest, pressing myself against him, still holding Mimi.

He closes his arms around me, embracing us both. He's sweaty, but I don't care right now. I need this closeness.

"You're here because I broke your bed, not to babysit a manchild.", he says flatly, but the edge in his words jabbing at himself is still obvious. And I don't want to point out the flaws in them. I’m not here because he broke my bed. This isn't at all what this is about, but he still seems to be in whatever spiral he was just moments ago.

"I'm not.", I answer. "Something is troubling you, that doesn't make you a child nor does me asking you about it make me a babysitter." He doesn't say anything, his arms only hugging me a little tighter. "So... You wanna talk about it?", I ask.

I can feel him hesitate and then shake his head. "No, I'm..." He breaks off. "I just have to deal with it, okay?" He softly strokes over my hair. "You don't need to worry about me."

"But I still do.", I say, softly, finally looking back up at him. I can't stand the defeated look on his face. He averts his eyes, hugging me closer.

And we just stand here in the living room. The three of us in a hug, only our soft breaths cutting through the silence.

Before he breaks it. "I actually got the information on the next mission.", he says, his voice steadier now.

I perk up. "And?"

"I'm leaving next week.", he answers.

I swallow, hard. "Which day?", I want to know, so I can count the days.

"Wednesday." So six days, including today. Shit.

"Okay." I press myself into him, Mimi still in between, and she meows. Tearing me from my dwindling thoughts.

"Oh, I'm sorry, baby.", I coo, pressing a kiss to her head, and she meows again, freeing herself from my hold, jumping down to the floor.

He takes the chance to pull me flush against him. "Me too.", he mumbles into my hair.

My arms wrap around his waist, my hands stroking down his back. Hugging him back, thinking about what to do.

If he doesn't wanna talk about it, then maybe a distraction will help ease his mind. Or at least take his mind off things. And mine too, now that I know he’ll be leaving.

"Some, uh, friends of mine asked if I wanna go out for some drinks.", I start. "We could join them if you want to." The tips of my fingers brushing over his lower back. "We can also stay home, of course, you know – whatever you prefer. But they actually wanted to go to the pub where we met." I smile up at him, remembering that moment when he got my attention with a simple compliment of my bandshirt.

"That..." He hesitates, but returns the smile then, although meekly. "That actually sounds like a good idea."

I get onto my tiptoes to finally get the kiss I came looking for earlier. He meets me halfway, kissing me, and the way his lips feel against mine sets me a little more at ease.

"Shower first?", he says then, his eyes intently on mine.

"Yes, stinky.", I quip which makes him laugh a little before I pull him with me up the stairs.

I hear him sigh behind me, a deep defeated tone, and I stop in my tracks again, but he just lifts me and carries me to the bathroom.

After the shower he looks refreshed, in a fresh band shirt and his favorite pair of cargo pants. Smelling like his usual shampoo, and he even put on a little bit of aftershave.

He's looking a bit more like himself. Especially when he puts on his leatherjacket, flicking his hair back with a trained move of his arm, so it isn't stuck in the collar, but falls down his shoulders.

The frown on his face is still a little more etched in than usually. It lightens up a bit when we sing along to Slipknot's "Before I forget" on the drive to the pub, and even more so when we join my friends there.

After the general introductions we get some drinks and settle down at the table. My hand in his, underneath the tabletop.

"Can I try? Just a sip." He points at my drink, an orangy-red liquid, more sweet than sour.

I pull one eyebrow up. "Sure, but I'm not sure you're gonna like it."

But he already took my glass and gulps half of it down.

My jaw drops. "You said just a sip!", I complain, loudly.

He smiles at me, a lop-sided apology, the smile that never lets me be mad at him, before his face contorts into a grimace. "You were right, I don't like it.", he comments.

The nerve. He sees my exasperated expression and laughs. His big hand grabs the back of my head and he pulls me in to press a big kiss to my cheek, and the public display of affection makes the butterflies in my stomach flutter and my exaggerated exasperation disappear.

"I'll buy you a new one, okay?", he says, pulling away, getting up and heading to the bar.

I shake my head, rolling my eyes, unable to keep the grin off my face. Looking after him, my eyes are panning from his broad shoulders down his back until they land on his tight ass as his hips sway. Blatantly ogling him, but I can't help it.

Robin’s hand on my forearms pulls my attention to them, and they start to tell me about their newest obsession: little, tiny octopuses. They’re showing me pictures and videos of the cute and small creatures when König gets back. He sets the new drink onto the table in front of me, I glance at him, mouthing 'thank you'. And he just winks.

It doesn't take long until he joins the conversation with the younger guys at the table which quickly turns into a trip to the billiard table. And my friends come in all shapes and sizes, still König towers over all of them. His tall stature bending down over the side of the table to line up the ball, sinking it in the right hole with precision. He is an insertion specialist after all.

Robin and I are laughing and giggling, making the stupid jokes we always do, and I’ve almost forgotten about the troubles today, getting myself another drink.

I look over to the guys again and König’s talking to Dan. Bits and pieces I pick up are telling me that they're talking about some soccer teams and matches. I grin to myself because I know how glad Dan must be that he finally got someone around who's interested in that, because none of us are.

He catches me staring at him, the corner of his mouth tipping up in a smirk. I blow him a little kiss before I take my jacket and head out the front door for a smoke.

Moments later, the door behind me croaks and I turn around. The big guy is standing in the entryway, the slightest hint of a smile on his lips.

“You smoke?” His deep voice fills the silence of the breezy night.

I sigh, juggling the bag of tobacco, rolling papers and filters in my hands. “Used to, but sometimes when I’m out with friends… or stressed… I still go for a smoke.”, I answer, a wry apologetic smile stalking onto my face.

He nods like he understands, putting his hand in his pocket, leaning beside me on the wall. A simple gesture, but when it comes to him, I find even the most minute of movements hot.

“Me too, especially when I’m at work… or having one of those days. Like today.”, he says, the smile turning lop-sided, and after a pause adds: “So… Can I have one as well?”

I chuckle, hiding my slight surprise. “Sure. Should I or do you know how to roll one?”, I ask in return.

His extended hand, the palm turned up, and a little tilt of his head are his only answer. I hand him a filter and a rolling paper with some tobacco, getting myself the same items before I put the tobacco baggie back into my purse.

When I turn to him again, my attention gets pulled in by his hands that softly take the little paper, putting the filter on the right side, pushing some of the tobacco in. Taking it between his middlefingers and thumbs, rolling it up in a swift trained motion. The ease with which he does it is impressive, even more so considering how tiny the cigarette is compared to his hands.

Then he lifts it to his mouth, his tongue darting out, licking over the paper in one swift go, to make it stick.

My eyes go wide, my breath halts in my throat, and I have to remember myself that I need to breathe.

He sees my expression which pulls a laugh from him. “Never thought you’d be jealous of a cigarette, hm?”

That pulls me from my trance, I laugh and playfully smack his arm. “Oh, stop it.” I shoot him a look, my eyes sparkling at him while I tease: “I know, I’ll be getting that as soon as we come home.”

He lights his cigarette with the zippo he always carries in the right outer pocket of his cargo pants, taking a drag and blowing the smoke into the air. “Don’t you know it.”, he says, the devilish smirk coming out. His hand drops down, pinching my butt playfully, and I yelp a little bit, almost dropping my unrolled cigarette.

“König!” But he just grins down at me.

Then I finally manage to roll it, stick the filter end between my lips and search for my lighter.

“Here, let me.”, he says, holding out the zippo in front of my face, the clank of metal and then the familiar snap, before a little flame burns at the top.

I shoot him a thankful look and lean forward until the flame catches on and the cigarette burns. I take the first drag, inhaling it deeply.

He puts the lighter away again, and I fall against him, resting my head against his chest while his arm drops around me, pulling me into him. Sharing this moment together while we smoke our cigarettes.

“To think that this all started because I complimented you on your shirt…”, he says, seeming a little bit caught up.

I laugh, the light sound getting carried away into the quiet night sky. “Is a little crazy, right?”

He sighs. “Yeah.”

We fall silent, puffs of smoke inhaled and exhaled. Soft noises from inside the bar making it less quiet. The air around us is thick with things we don’t say.

I think, I like you more than I ever thought I would.

I might even be falling in love with you.

And that scares me.

We excuse ourselves a little early because honestly, I'm tired from not having slept all that much tonight, and the few drinks I had made me a little tipsy. And he kind of promised to eat me out when we get home.

We get to the car and – as so often – he opens the door for me. I smile at him and climb into the seat, but he steals another kiss. One that has me panting a little harder. He pulls away and rounds the car to get into the driver side.

I sit back, turning on the music as he starts driving.

Looking at him. The streetlamps light up his face every so often, casting the one side in shadows.

Wondering what might be going on in his head, the stoic expression not giving anything away.

Whatever went on in his mind today seems forgotten about, he seems like his usual self again. But maybe he’s just hiding it? Or it helped going outside for once, and I ask myself if maybe the time we first met, he also went out to distract himself.

And I don’t even know why, but my heart starts hurting a bit.

How is it like when he is alone at home? Does he talk to nobody?

“What is it?”, he asks, not taking his eyes off the road.

I look away and shake my head. “Nothing.”

“I’ve been around long enough to know that it’s never nothing.”, he says with a little sigh, an understanding smile on his face.

“Just thinking.”, I say plainly.

The smile gets a little wider. “Hmm, thinking, that’s a dangerous thing.”, he says, sounding earnest and joking at the same time.

The corners of my mouth tilt up, of their own volition. “It is.”

His hand lands on my thigh, squeezing it, and the little gesture soothes me. Pushing the thoughts away as I relax into the leather seat.

His thumb grazes over the sensitive inside of my thigh, and I shoot him a look. The small grin is the only hint that he’s doing it on purpose, only getting wider as he brushes further up until his hand is between my thighs. My fingers clasp over his, but I don’t pull them away. Shamelessly grinding against the palm, relishing the delicious friction and paying him back for his cheeky move. Now it's his turn to shoot me a look.

The sleepiness is almost forgotten about, and the slight tipsiness does nothing but make me even hotter and hornier.

Parking the Mercedes at his usual spot in the garage, he cuts off the engine and I jump out the car before he can even get out and open the door for me.

I take a few steps back, biting my lip, trying to hide the grin that stalks onto my face as he makes his way around the car. His gaze is on me, looking at me from under his brows, unbridled desire in his eyes.

His broad shoulders seem even wider with his signature leatherjacket, his hair moves, the long strands falling down his shoulders, while he comes closer with long strides until his boots bump into my converse and his arms close around me. He almost towers over me, leaning me back in his embrace. His lips crash into mine while my hands grab him, trying to get even closer to him.

We don't say anything, but I can feel the simmering intensity as he deepens the kiss and picks me up, making the last few steps into the house. My legs close around his waist when he pushes through the door, and we're both not breaking the kiss, desperate for more.

I think back to the first time we hooked up, how he carried me upstairs to my flat. How the anticipation and excitement simmered in my veins back then, and his touches still consume me and make me wanna devour him, but it has become so familiar at the same time. How his fingers press into my thighs, grabbing the soft pillows. How his nose nudges against mine when we kiss. How he swallows up the soft noises I make, tasting every single one of them. His chest against mine, the plane of muscles warm and pillowy.

His scent, his taste. How the long strands of his hair feel as I run my fingers through them.

He sets me down on the dresser in the hallway, pulling my shoes off, kicking his boots away and getting rid of the leatherjacket. He doesn't have to say it, I know what he wants, and pop the button on my pants, lower the zipper. His hands grab the waistband, helping me get it off. My pants and panties fall to the floor before he drops to his knees, his eyes fixed on my pussy as he spreads my legs and places them over his broad shoulders.

He pushes his hair out of his face and dives in, his mouth pressing against my lips, and I moan as his tongue darts out and licks me for the first time.

My hands hold onto the surface beneath me, my body slumping back into the wall, the sensation of the cold brick against my shoulders,while he starts to eat me out. Soft groans and mewls drop from his lips, getting lost in the slick and warmth. His lids are closed, his lashes adorning his cheeks, seeming almost solemn. The stern expression he usually wears on his face nowhere to be found, the frustration that was plaguing him today slowly dissipated throughout the evening and I can't find any of it left in his eyes when he looks up at me. Finding mine, holding the gaze.

His nose is buried in the soft curls as his mouth closes around my clit, sucking, licking over it with his flat tongue, coaxing moan after moan from me.

My hands dart out, the one grabbing his fingers that press into my thigh, the other caressing down the side of his face.

"Fuck, can't get enough of you.", he breathes, licking me again. Lapping up the wetness, desperately tasting me.

My eyes turn up, breaking the eye contact, my thighs are starting to shake and I come on his tongue. His hands are steadying me, so I don't fall off the dresser, my body writhing, my head pressing against the hard wall behind me. My moans resound in the small space around us, the stimulation making me lose my mind.

He doesn't stop until I grab his hair, pulling him up to me. He grunts, reluctantly breaking away from my pussy, capturing my mouth in a searing kiss that I answer with the same frenzy. Tasting myself on his lips.

He hastily unbuckles his belt, freeing his erection that has been straining against the zipper, hard, the tip smeared with pre-cum. Breaking the kiss to look down between our bodies. He grabs himself by the base, slowly dragging it over my pussy. Finding the entrance and dipping into the wetness.

His eyes are intently on mine, my mouth falling open as he stretches me, my eyebrows turning up. His jaw drops, his expression mirroring mine.

He's so close, our panting breaths intermingling. A choked moan rising up my throat when he fills me, the tip pressing up against my cervix.

My legs close around his waist, pulling him closer. He lifts me off the dresser, but we don't get far as he presses me up against the wall, steadying me with his arms. Fucking into me, his hips pushing forward.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck.", he curses, the desperation in his voice sending a pang of need between my thighs.

I hold onto his shoulders, my back pressed against the wall behind me, meeting his movements.

"So tight, Liebes.", he grunts. "Driving me crazy."

A little laugh shakes me before him bottoming me out makes me moan again. "What should I say, huh?", I shoot back, teasing him.

He halts and captures my face between his thumb and pointer. "Oh, but you always take me so well.", he tells me, knowing what those words do to me. And they don’t miss their impact.

I shake my head, trying to ignore the tingle running down my spine. “Fitting together like two puzzle pieces.”, I joke, which pulls a deep hearty laugh from his throat.

“Well put.”, he says, with a twinkle in his eyes.

He hoists me up again, making our way to the bedroom. His dick moving inside me with every single one of his steps, and I sigh as I snuggle into the crook of his neck.

He slips out of me and almost throws me down into the mattress, quickly getting off his clothes, and I pull my shirt above my head, fully naked now. I lie down, my belly against the sheets.

The mattress dips down as he drapes his body over me, his warm skin against mine. I look back at him, propping myself up on my forearms. Inviting him in, and the hurry drops away again.

He brushes my hair out the way, looking into my eyes, as his dick slides between my thighs. My mouth falls open, little panting breaths dropping from my lips, when he drags him himself back and forth, his length pressing against my slick pussy.

He slips into me, filling me up again, and I relish the feeling, familiar but still intense every time. He pulls me up, his hand grabbing the back of my head, kissing me. His lips softly against mine as he backs off and presses into me again. Slowly, savouring how I take every inch, until he's fully seated inside me. Rolling his hips, almost lazily.

Soft, so soft.

“Feels so good.”, I mumble into the kiss, thrusting my ass back, meeting his languid strokes.

Losing myself in the hazy pleasure, the slow and sweet fuck. Moving in unison until his hips are rutting forward, stuttering, as he loses the rhythm. Still kissing me while he comes inside me.

"Ngh, Liebes...", he grunts against my lips, pushing in one last time, slumping down on me, and I feel his weight on me for a moment.

I cradle his face, my thumb coasting over his jaw, wiping away a drop of sweat. His panting breaths fill the room, and I can't help but smile. Pressing another kiss to his lips, a small sweet one.

It seems to stir him awake and he doesn't stay slumped over me, propping himself up on his hands again, smirking down at me.

He pushes into me again, my mouth shaping into an O, my eyebrows turning up, and I can feel the wetness seep out of me as his dick fills me up again.

The question on my face must be clear when I crane my neck to look up at him.

"Didn't think it was over, did you?", he drawls, starting to fuck me harder. "You can give me one more, Hexe."

"Oh fuck.", I mumble as his hips snap forward, colliding with my ass. I hold onto his arm, steadying myself, my nails burying into his muscly forearms.

I remember how he was careful with me at first, afraid to break me. How he doesn't have such reservations anymore. Thrusting into me at an almost punishing pace. Trusting that I would use my safeword if it in fact was too much.

And I remember how I imagined how fucking him must be before we did it for the first time, and how it compares to reality.

Me splayed out on the bed, my front to the mattress. Him kneeling over me, his knees framing my ass as he's buried balls deep in my pussy.

Grabbing my hips, positioning me to fuck me even deeper. Sliding in and out of me, bottoming me out which pulls whimpers from me every time. Making me lose my mind quickly.

His hair whipping back and forth when his hips snap forward, his groin pressing up against the soft pillows of my ass repeatedly.

“Good girl, oh fuck.”, he praises me. “Taking me so well…” He lets go of me, his hand coming down on my butt, and I cry out at the sting.

Alternating between my left and right cheek, reddening the skin with every slap.

My hands are fisting the sheets beneath me, and my eyes are rolling back, lewd sounds getting pulled from my throat, as he plunges his dick into me again and again.

"Fuck, König...", I sigh, his name getting swallowed up when my face gets pushed into the sheets again.

"Say it again.", he grunts, but the hard thrusts of his hips unintentionally shut me up as he leans forward again, pressing me into the mattress. "Need to hear you say it, Liebes."

And I do say his name as I come once again, the sounds turning into uncontrollable moans, and he is not stopping until I'm a writhing shivering mess beneath him and he is pressing sweet kisses to my face again.

He pulls me with him as he rolls off me, bringing my body close to his until I'm draped over him. Basking in the afterglow, pressing myself up against his warm chest, our heavy breaths intermingling.

I remember how we joked about him keeping up, him making a comment about how I should be concerned to keep up with him, and most of the time he's right, but seeing him a little out of breath after we just had sex. Just like right now. It makes me feel all kinds of things. Deliciously dirty and heartwarmingly fluffy ones.

"Fuck, I'm sorry, I'm feeling so sleepy.", I mumble into a yawn. The sleepiness caught up and is taking over me now.

He pulls me closer, pressing a kiss to my temple, his arms engulfing me. "That's okay, Liebes, just sleep.", he whispers, and I close my eyes, pressing my cheek to his pillowy chest.

"G'night..."

"Gute Nacht."

~ more in the Masterlist ~

[myfanfic-urfantrash]

More A/B/O Honkai Star Rail: During Ruts and Heats

Characters: Blade, Jing Yuan, Welt, and Luocha as Alphas.

CW: nsfw, omegaverse

A/N: *sees notes* y'all love a/b/o too huh? Good because I will continue and now it's spicy :3c

-------

Blade

During his rut he gets possessive and tends to bite more.

Pinning his omega from behind teeth sunk into their scent glands or shoulder as he ruts into them barely pulling out before thrusting back in.

If he's not in the mood or has calmed down enough he'll just hold his omega close and never let them leave to get up for anything. And I mean anything, even to the bathroom where he might follow and sit outside the door like a cat.

During heats he's there for his omega to use as they please even if that includes not having "fun" and just cuddling only.

Makes it his mission to keep his omega well hydrated and fed during both, though he tends to be more aggressive about it during his ruts as he's hyper focused on them and a bit out of it.

While eating he tends to loom over them and or set them on his lap making sure they eat every bite before he decides to take a bite himself. This gets more intense when he's in his rut since all his attention is on them and only them.

Always gathers his most recently used bed sheets for his omega to use and if his clothes are clean he'll add those to the pile. Doesn't help build the nest but rather stands by watching them prep everything and handing whatever they want their way and or scenting anything they ask.

During ruts he practically stares holes into them until they give him permission to enter the nest or until they join him in his bed.

Jing Yuan

Patient while in rut and during heats even if he should be losing his cool he somehow gets even cooler? He might look calm but he's anything but, if one looks into his eyes they'd know they're about to be devoured

Doesn't go fast but he does go hard, pulling out all the way before thrusting back in. He finds some enjoyment in keeping himself restrained even when he's begged to go faster. Doesn't bite as much as you'd think as he's more focused on eating his omega out rather than staking his claim again.

Preps his room way before his rut or their heat starts, always let's people know not to disturb him unless the world is ending because he won't be leaving their nest or his bed for anything.

His bed is large enough to hold himself and Mimi so it's the perfect place to build the comfy nest of their dreams, he helps building it by providing all the pillows and soft clothes he can and scenting each one thoroughly.

Since he preps before hand there's easy filling meals ready so they can just eat their favorites in peace without disruptions and get back to... "business".

If he's not feeling up for it or they aren't either he'll just cuddle them and sleep telling them stories about his day or asking silly questions to get them to focus away from any pain his omega may be feeling.

Welt

Old man can get it but he has trouble staying energized enough for his omega so he let's toys help while he takes a break or if he's not up for it.

Loves watching them enjoy themselves as he fiddles with the vibrator control and adjusting the thrusts of the dildo to make them happy

Honestly prefers cuddling more during both because he's grown and can control himself, plus he enjoys just laying there enjoying his omega scent and keeping them safe, warm, and well fed.

Spends good chunks of his time during both just pampering his omega and fulfilling their needs and taking pride in doing so. After all no one takes good care of them like he does. A definite confidence booster.

Let's them borrow his clothes to wear and brings his own blankets to their nest so they can snuggle under his thermal sheets. He gets cold easy so this is practically heaven for him.

Luocha

Since he travels a lot he tries to schedule his dealings to be finished before his rut and their heat starts. If he can't manage that he'll always cut his own ruts off with medication and provide the best room he can find for his omega to enjoy.

Honestly doesn't care for his ruts as he dislikes being out of control of his own body but he doesn't mind spending them with his omega since they're willing to take care of him as he does them. Prefers cuddling over anything else during his ruts but he'll cave into desire if he's started sucking on their scent glands.

He doesn't bite too much during this but won't lift his head from their neck as he tries to get as much of their scent as possible. His thrusts are fast paced but not sloppy. Though when he eats them out he is as sloppy as can be as he drowns himself in their scent.

If he's present during their heat he's at their beck and call. Need water? Here's a fresh glass. Need something to eat? He just finished making them a hearty meal. Need him inside? Well...he'll see what he can do.

Always makes sure to give them freshly scented clothes and blankets to use regardless of if he's met with other people or not, he just wants them to smell him and only him. Doesn't interfere with nest building but does comment here and there how nice everything looks or how well they're doing.

Edited: 2/16/2024

[melancholiaincarnate]

how about one more?

「 in which ᵎᵎ 」 you and cult leader! suguru geto give out candies to trick or treating monkeys on halloween.

「 words ᵎᵎ 」 522

「 author's note ᵎᵎ 」 DAY THREE BABY. apologies for the lateness >,< but here it is anyway. check out the masterlist and zone's works since they're posting day four tmm head nodding emoji. do i hate this? yes. am i gonna redo it? no

「 warnings ᵎᵎ 」 slightly suggestive, suguru calling ppl monkeys as per usual, probs super ooc.

you sat perched on his lap, dressed as a witch with a bowl of candy in your lap. geto wasn't dressed up, he said it'd "taint" his image as the leader of the cult. he strived to maintain a certain persona to them, and despite your convincing, he remained sure on the fact that dressing up for halloween would damage his reputation as a stone-cold leader.

whatever his excuse, he still decided to give out candies with you to the oh so brave trick or treaters who stopped by the front door of the cult building.

"trick or treat!" there was a little boy dressed as spiderman at the bottom of the steps, peering up at the both of you.

"oh look, sugu, he's so cute." you gush, "he's dressed as spiderman!"

the boy nods, "i love spiderman!" and geto rolls his eyes as you hop off his lap to descend the stairs to drop some candy in the boy's bag.

you can feel his eyes on you as you pat the boy's head, giving him a bit extra as a 'reward' for having such a cute costume.

as the boy left and you settled yourself back on geto's lap, he wrapped his arms around your waist and sighed. "we're going to run out of candy at this rate if you keep giving kids extra for being cute."

he rustled in his robe pockets for a moment before bringing out some hand sanitizer. you had touched the boy's head after all.

"they are cute, sugu! look at them." you whined as a pair of boys dressed as ... ninja turtles ... (?) approached. you could hear geto grumbling about their stupid costumes.

"they're disgusting monkeys who are celebrating a stupid holiday." he mumbled. he didn't say anything else though, as the boys approached and you put candies in their bag.

as much as suguru geto hates monkeys, he loves seeing you happy just a (tiny) bit more. you'd asked to give out candy to trick or treaters, and he'd agreed but only if he could be there to protect you from any monkeys who tried any stupid ideas they had.

he also couldn't give up the view he had everytime you'd go down the stairs and bend over slightly to give the children candy.

you'd patted another kids head and so you sighed as geto sprayed you with hand sanitizer again.

"suguru," you hummed as you nestled yourself back into his lap, "we should have kids of our own."

"we have mimi and nana." he mused. "you say they're a handful - and yet you want more?"

you frown, "i do say that... but i want a baby! mimi and nana are old enough to go trick or treating by themselves - i want a little baby to take! imagine us with a little boy - oh and he's dressed as a superhero! how cutesie!"

suguru thought about it for a moment. "sure, why not? i can get more donations if my wife is pregnant." he nodded his head as his voice dropped low, "how about we give these candies to the girls, and we get started now?"

[jhuzen]

Will there be a part 2 of the "Attention" fic?

infidelity [gn/m.reader]

the answer to that is a solid yes AND a big apology for taking a hundred years to post this. this ask has been in my inbox for freaking months. and it’s mostly because i have been remaking this fic until i got the most satisfying fic LMAO. i’m sorry for taking so long 😭 i hope this is compensation enough. btw this part 2 to this! but honestly, you don’t have to read it lmao.

𖦹 crack taken seriously, hsr mention but this is mostly genshin, this is just a fic of me making fun of cheaters aka you, highly based on that one tweet of the “welcome home, cheater” one, pushing my grand overseer reader agenda like in my early fics teehee <3, sagau, sahsr au

“I should probably go back…”

Jing Yuan begged to differ. The general himself had his reservations about your sudden eagerness to depart. After all, you were a good company — one that amused him to the core and even kept him awake for the better part of the day. You are an interesting being to him after all — much after learning from the exuberant girl from the famed Astral Express suddenly emphasizing your importance when they left you under his supervision.

You, in much simpler words, are adorable in the Luofo general’s eyes. With eagerness and curiosity melding in those gaze of yours that could leave anyone transfixed — wanting and desperate.

You truly live up to the title as the grand overseer across worlds. You were the sole beholder of their sentience, despite the fact that right now, you’re barely aware of your status and your circumstance, it was more than enough for anyone go cherish your presence. How could they not? It was a blessing to see you descend from where you were, behind the great barrier that they all could only stare at when they looked to you for guidance.

Alas, that mattered little, not when you were beside the amused general and his coy smile, fingers raking through your hair; reminiscent of the pattern when he would do the same thing to Mimi when you visited his abode to meet the furry beauty that was his pet.

Quite frankly, you weren’t all too sure if this was something you were used to, being treated like an animal companion, with even the way Jing Yuan’s hand would suddenly roam behind your very human ears, scratching behind out of habit.

The only thing missing was him giving your food to you in a bowl, actually, and you’d be no different than Mimi at that point. Wait. No. You were sure Jing Yuan’s lion also ate out of a golden encrusted plate when you saw his hired caretakers come and feed Mimi.

“Bark for me, won’t you?” The general teased with a purr and it was more than enough for you to pull the plug at your willing compliance.

You removed his hand from your head and only shot him a subtle glare, “That’s a request I can’t honor even if my life depended on it.” You sighed, “I should get going now though, General… I made a promise to help our conductor in sweeping the floors. Apparently Caelus tracked some dirt inside when he decided to lug some trash.”

“Must you really? You’re the grand overseer, no? I believe such a title deserves a limitless freedom in doing whatever it is that they wish,” he coaxed in a suave tone, quick to win anyone over. And honestly, that sounds nice. But you’ve never seen Pom-Pom look so stressed when you saw an unwilling March and Dan Heng drag some trash either wrapped in gold bags or regular black ones inside the express when they came back from Belobog.

You somehow regretted leaving first — but even you had urgent matters to attend to at that moment.

“Ah—!” The lax Jing Yuan jolted at your sudden outburst.

“…Anything troubling you, Grand Overseer?”

“T-Teyvat! I completely forgot…!” Your eyes were blown wide as the panic settled within you. You had promised Nahida you would make it to the Interdarshan championship. She was so excited when she communed with you just days ago, completely elated that even your beloved Wanderer would participate as a representative in a Darshan.

Albeit confused by your sudden squawking, Jing Yuan understood and only watched you pace around while you lamented what sounds to be a rehearsed apology that you will no doubt tell to someone you hold precious.

“How envious, to receive an apology from you even sounds like a great honor.” Jing Yuan teased with a chuckle. “Well then, off you go now. Don’t be away for too long. I rather enjoy our time together.”

“O-Oh, yes, of course… I truly apologize for cutting our time together short. Do give my regards to Fu Xuan and Yanqing if they drop by. I have to go and talk to the crew and also bid my goodbye for now.” You bowed before turning away, briskly walking your way towards the door outside of the general’s office, only to bump into Welt and March.

“Oh! There you are! Ya ready to go shopping?” March held an exuberant energy as she asked, clasping your hand in hers tightly with an excited gleam flashing through her eyes.

Welt, however, was far more observant than March, “Judging from that look in your eyes… you have some affairs you’ve forgotten to tend to, Your Benevolence. Would I be correct in my judgment?”

“It’d be a miracle for you to be wrong at this point,” you laughed amidst your panic. “But yes, unfortunately. March, I hope you don’t mind a little bit of postponement… I have somewhere to be urgently.”

March’s bottom lip stuck out into pleading pout, “But you promised!”

“March, let’s not force them. It is as they say — an urgent affair.” Welt only looked at you with a small nod and an encouraging smile, “Don’t be too worried. I’ll let Himeko and Dan Heng know of your absence. Just be safe.”

“I will definitely come back and visit.” Your smile and reassurance was enough to quell March’s disappointment and Welt’s initial concern. “Please tell Caelus not to track more dirt inside. It’ll only serve to frustrate Pom-Pom further.”

“It’s a useless attempt, but for you, I’ll try,” March winked as she waved to you with Welt.

With a nod to the two of them, you were off to Teyvat — lucky that you have little need for the Star Rail in the first place to travel. Otherwise, it would most certainly take you the entire conceivable time just before you could even come back to one of the many worlds that you oversaw and to a fault, even took care of from afar.

You stepped into the familiar grassy fields of Sumeru’s rainforest, looking up to see that the city isn’t too far off. There was a gentle breeze that blew by, almost like a kiss from a certain archon, but you paid little heed to it. You normally always took your time to appreciate the sights in Teyvat, finding its vast lands and many biomes incredibly fantastical in sight. But even that couldn’t keep you from the fact that you’ve broken several promises that you willingly made to some residents here.

You can only imagine the disappointment in everyone’s faces once you’ve admitted to the fact that… other people may have swept your attention away in the first place — hence your sudden absence.

You owed your first apology to Nahida. She is after all, one of your far more favored archons around, treating her like your own, definitely something that would make Rukkhadevata proud among every other archon out there. And then there’s also a matter of apologizing to your dear Aether, you made another promise to him that you would spend your time with him in Sumeru’s far end by the Realm of Farakhkert to meet the infamous Sorush and the majestic race of the Pari (you once made a claim that Aranara’s are superior, and your endeared traveler was reluctant in protesting to your words it seems).

Now that you thought about it — you were sure you made quite a lot of promises to the residents of Teyvat. A lot of commitments were hammered into your special sanctuary that Aether had built for and with you inside his teapot.

Commitments that you’ve forgotten in favor of space travels with a couple of trailblazers.

Onlookers turned to your direction, completely flabbergasted at your casual appearance. What were you doing in Sumeru city (not that they were ungrateful for your gracious presence) — but it was as if you were solely taking a stroll on your own. Where are your entourage? Was the Acting Grand Sage even informed of your arrival? What about the archons that always accompanied you? Where is Buer?

Best of all, why does your face contort into an expression of what seems to be utter guilt?

You hiked your way to the Sanctuary of Surasthana, refusing any help offered to you by the guards that were courteous enough. You were prepared to face Nahida’s crestfallen look — prepared to start indulging her wishes to make up for the tomfoolery you engaged in. The corners of your mouth trembled as it itched to finally spill out the plethora of apologies that you’ve prepared.

“Oh. So you exist after all.”

Only for your well-rehearsed (by the last minute) apologies to fall apart when the Wanderer’s voice rang from above. You looked up to see him perched on one of the ledges just above the door of Nahida’s residence. He was stationed like a watchful hawk — and he was, constantly on the prowl for anyone suspicious daring to come up to the sanctuary.

Suddenly, a memory of you promising him to go fishing by the coasts of Sumeru had you wincing. And with the way the puppet’s mouth turned up in a smug smirk showed that he was aware of an engagement you swore you’d do with him.

“Ah… I hear you go by Hat guy now?” You tilted your head, giving him a reluctant smile.

“Spare me the meaningless prying. Where have you been?” His eyes narrowed, suspicious and a tad bitter at your absence and incompetence in attending a tiny little leisure that you yourself insisted he join you on. Who the hell even creates plans first and suddenly flakes out? The Wanderer has never felt more betrayed, quite frankly.

You suddenly looked like a guilty spouse that came from a messy affair, with the way you shifted your footing and how you averted your gaze quick. The Wanderer was intolerant of such a behavior however when he finally came down from his little high up spot to face you with no escape. He will summon a void and trap you in it halfway if you so much as make an attempt to escape.

“I’ve been… away…”

“Were you now?” His scrutinizing gaze only served to intimidate you further when he came up close, his nimble fingers tracing against your clothing. “Whose is this?”

And before you, he held a familiar long strand of white hair — possibly acquired when the general of Luofo decided to frolic around with you, coaxing (or coercing, more like) you to give him a much deserved head massage for his hard work (though in truth, he barely did anything that day).

“…A cat.” Technically not a lie. Jing Yuan does exhibit certain behaviors that you can classify as a behavior that a feline has.

“Is it now?” His voice went an octave higher — clearly mocking you if his churlish grin wasn’t enough of a sign about his suspicions of you and your… agendas prior to your unprompted visit in Teyvat.

A terse silence engulfed you and your Wanderer before he flicked away the hair and dragged you inside Nahida’s sanctuary.

“She was disappointed that you were absent the entire Interdarshan event thing. Where in the abyss were you?” The puppet hissed, his grip on your wrist tightening. Somehow you found it far more comforting compared to the times where people would treat you like some fragile object that could break at any second.

What’s not comforting however, were his words. You couldn’t bear the thought of letting Nahida down, and now you’re faced with that very thought becoming a reality that you now have to get through just for the sake of your sanity.

You smiled a little despite seeing the Dendro Archon’s back turned while she minded her own business. There was always something comforting when wasting your hours away inside the sanctuary. Just having to teach Nahida from your old world knowledge about people, and to an extent even teaching the Wanderer with your wisdom that rarely pops out (according to him, with full intent to insult you). It’s not as daring as the time Venti decided to fling you up and catch you or Ei’s insistence on you eating your tenth dango during your walks.

For now however, you had one goal in mind — and that is to make amends with your favored archon and puppet.

Teyvat altogether created an unspoken rule to never ever doubt you — the Grand Overseer. You have a position that transcends even farther than the Primordial One, your eyes that gaze on many universes and worlds. You are the one that took care of the blooming life in each planet that teemed with it, thriving under your guidance.

There was a collective decision among all gods and mortals alike to never doubt your endeavors, much less your love for them. You care a lot about them, and based solely on your constant descent towards their world, it seems as though above all other worlds, you favored them. They were the proof of your benevolence, granting the residents your presence while you walked among them.

Right. That was the case that everyone agreed upon.

However, there was an underlying layer of unease. Heaven forbid may it be doubt; they could never! But perhaps… a tiny bit of uncertainty in the layer of cautiousness as the residents watched you with adoration.

It first started with the wrong names.

When Albedo, Sucrose, and Timaeus wholeheartedly welcomed your help when you visited Dragonspine with Klee. Jean was far too busy with her work and while she wished to, could not have time to bask in your presence after the announcement of your sudden arrival. In turn, you only assured her and relieved her of her added duty in watching over Klee.

Klee was the one to visit big brother Albedo, to surprise him that you were finally back. And you complied. Dragonspine is an extension of Mondstadt, and you had plans to check up on every single resident of the nation.

Suffice to say, you were quickly hooked up in a chair, pulse detectors attached to your temples while you watched Klee doodle away on the floor. For a respected overseer, you certainly were a people pleaser, letting Albedo scan you out of his own volition (Sucrose was fussing the entire time, she didn’t want you to be hurt in the process, after all!).

“Look Grand Overseer! This is you and me and Dodoco!” Your vision was quickly filled with a flurry of bright colors on paper, one that was filled with an abundant amount of red and the other with the colors of your clothing.

“Ah! So it is! Good job, Hook!”

Everyone in silence soon tore themselves away from their work, looking at you with evident confusion.

Klee blinked, tilting her head as she looked just as lost and surprised as the other three researchers in the mountain, “Hook? That’s not how you say Klee…”

Your heart hammered against your ribcage and tried to save it with a cough, “D-Did I now? Ah, my bad… I meant to say was that you… did a great job! It immediately hooked me in!” It was a half-baked excuse — hell, call it a raw excuse even and everyone aside from Klee caught on as the explosive child beamed with pride, just happy that you loved her heartfelt creation.

Albedo eyed you in suspicion before returning to his work.

Then there was your misplaced reminiscence.

In your defense however, Snezhnaya does feel like Belobog. Sometimes… most definitely not because of the fact that both places are constantly subjected in a thick layer of snow.

The Tsaritsa was all but cruel to you. She loved you like any other archon out there and always basked in your presence — even keeping you for herself a week or two longer, leaving the next nation in your rotation of visitation completely restless at your tardiness. However in her gentle kindness was a terrifying beast that laid dormant.

Only then did you catch a glimpse of it on the morning that you and her spent on your appointed room in the palace, both you and the Cryo Archon siting on the balcony while you sipped on a hot beverage, enjoying the mountainous coated in freshly fallen snow.

You sat your cup down and blew on your hands. The Tsaritsa laughed at your actions, pleased that you can truly feel the love she embodied through the cold winds of her icy nation.

“Cold enough for you, Grand Overseer?” She jested with a light tone.

“…Yep…” your teeth lightly chattered. “…T-This place is a lot c-colder than Belobog, I’ll tell you that… B-But not more than Jarilo-VI as a whole…”

All of a sudden, you could feel the creeping coldness from beside you and looked to where the archon sat, her striking eyes looking at you with curiosity… with a smidge of coldness behind them.

“Pardon? Not colder than where?”

Her tone was pressed despite her sweet adoring smile. She took pride in her sovereign kingdom of cryo. It was all for you, to feel the comforting cold after you spent your last stay with Murata in Natlan. This was her giving you love, and suddenly, it wasn’t enough?

The better part of your mind decided to feign ignorance. And you lived to see another day.

And then the sudden secrecy.

By all means, of all people, Zhongli indulged in your stories the most. Whenever you visited Liyue, you were almost always found beside him if Ningguang wasn’t asking for your presence or if you weren’t getting coerced into another drinking competition with Beidou and her crew. And in this case, you were preoccupied with a little something while you accompanied Zhongli in his usual spot.

He listened earnestly to the storyteller while you busied yourself writing a little something on a parchment you had acquired from the Wangsheng parlor when you fetched Zhongli for his break.

And ever so slightly, he’d find himself glancing at your hunched over form, while you stewed in your little activity. He didn’t particularly mind the lack of conversation from you. Having you beside him was more than enough, actually. But it wouldn’t hurt for you to have him be just as engaged in your little agenda, would it?

The former archon peered at your work, only to be faced with scripts that were oddly reminiscent of Liyue’s characters. Albeit there were significant changes that made the language still all too different from his nation.

“…Might you be translating ancient texts, Grand Overseer?” He inquired and was met by a suspicious jolt from you.

It was a text Dan Heng gave you before to practice the language used in the Xianzhou fleet. Only now did you have time to do his little practices upon your descent. You had plans to check up on everyone as soon as you were done in Teyvat, and perhaps impressing Yanqing with your language prowess was a good party trick (and eventually not get bullied into eating something spicy because of your ignorance).

“Ah! N-No—! I— yes. No.”

Zhongli tilted his head and you were quick to recall your flubbed answer, shoving away the parchment into your little pocket. There was a frantic look in your eyes and Zhongli was concerned, naturally.

You used to be so willing in divulging everything to him in exchange for his stories, with the both of you managing to talk from dusk to dawn without fail with him needing little to no sleep and the time dilation that your body couldn’t seem to adjust to. You weren’t afraid to share what you were preoccupied with, and even often let him experience new things from your own world.

So why are you keeping secrets now?

But perhaps, the breaking point was your standoffish nature.

Aether has always cherished his raw connection with you and was proud to wear his closeness to your divinity, not because of infamy, but because of how incredibly special you treat him. While, certainly, you have made the people of Teyvat special on your visits, but what sets him apart from the rest is your adamant expression of affection towards him. For some reason, he was favored alone, not as a part of a collective unlike Venti and his people, or Zhongli and his. He alone was yours to indulge, even more behind closed doors in his teapot realm.

However… something was off after your abrupt visit.

Something had changed when you came home.

You were far more distracted, occupied with that tiny device you always held in your hand. Suddenly, Paimon wasn’t the loudest one in the teapot mansion with the incessant beeping that your phone made. It never did that before, it was always tucked away somewhere, sometimes even letting him place it in his inventory if there was little time to go back into the teapot.

He had always deemed your mode of communication useless. Especially on your travels. It was always so silent, like a useless artifact that you keep on you.

But suddenly it was teeming with life, buzzing endlessly that could drive any man with weak resistance into the threshold of insanity. You’d often pick it up and grant the little device a heavenly smile and proceed to be on it for hours upon hours.

It was a heartbreaking time for him.

It was heartbreaking whenever he would peer at your device, only for you to keep him in the dark as you made some lame excuse.

It was heartbreaking whenever he could no longer recognize your words when you talked about your own anecdotes, throwing name after name at him while he listened intently.

And oh was it heartbreaking when you called him by the name of someone else.

“[Name], have you seen my earring?” He took pride in his informality with you showing your comfortability and familiarity with the renowned traveler.

“Over on the table, Cae— ther… Caether… Aether.”

Not so much with that tiny slip.

Yes. Perhaps that was it. And all the preceding reasons.

Perhaps it was why you sat like a condemned criminal in the court of Focalors, as every archon looked at you with scrutiny and skepticism in their eyes. Only sweet Nahida looked at you in concern. Ah, your poor child. You’d rather her look away than experience the possible punishment you were about to receive.

“Grand Overseer, make no mistake, this is a trial born from the accumulated concerns of us all. This is a trial born… from our love.” The hydro archon’s voice bellowed through the courts. She normally wasn’t one to personally try the defendants, however you were a special circumstance.

You always were.

…Sure doesn’t feel like it…

“M-May I at least know what my charges are…?”

“Infidelity, Grand Overseer.” Ei answered for the collective. “I can only hope you are not found guilty.”

You grimaced. You’re quite glad that this was a private trial, with only the archons, retired or otherwise, gazing at you. Make no mistake however — this was an intimidating position to be in. You may be the Grand Overseer, but you’re quite sure the only thing keeping you alive is their thinly veiled fanaticism and adoration for you. Otherwise, you would have been incinerated long ago.

It might have been your luck. But it was something you would wholeheartedly thank as the moment Focalors slammed her gavel down, the horrifying screech of something you can only classify as a hideous ally pulled you out of your impending doom.

The alarm on your phone rang incessantly, a glaring reminder of your subpar and mundane reality, waking you up from a dream that you could barely remember.

You shot up, only realizing you fell asleep in front of your own computer. You looked up to see your game open, with your beloved traveler gazing down at you with a disappointed frown on his face.

You chalked it up to your awful sleep and rubbed your eyes, closing the game and migrating to the other, where your in-game phone was filled to the brim with messages.

Smothering a yawn in your hand, you can only shake your head.

“My games have been really weird lately. I should probably leave them alone for now. Maybe have fun with Elysia and the girls.” You muttered to yourself but not before powering your computer down.

Truly, your utter cluelessness is bound to drive everyone insane.

Fret not however, they will make it work. They will let you know of their sentience. They will make sure that you are aware of how much they admire you.

It’s only a matter of time until then.

[bwabys-scenarios]

Fixer Upper

Part 29.5

Perv!Kurapika x Fem!Reader

part 29

part 30

A/N: I completely forgot to include the scene where Kurapika gives reader her gift, so I decided to do that and a little extra!

warnings: pussy eating, soft sex, cockwarming, semi-public sex, angst, Kurapika gets jealous really easy😭😭

taglist: @fabitheraven @tsukilover11 @ashdownunderscorebeloved @lemonslut @homeinmydreams @superweeniehutjrsblog @bugmomwrites @heartsforseo @lixiawinter @altaircc @itszenava @fiightforlovee @mimi-sanisanidiot @monainanuttshell @wow-im-gay @whorermoviestar @lightshowerrr @mama-m1na @nenggie @wicked-binch @jamayah @themanicwriter01

If you’d like to be ADDED to the taglist, please comment a red heart ❤️, make sure you’re able to be tagged/mentioned, and have your age in your bio(IF YOU ARE ALREADY ON THE TAGLIST, YOU DON’T NEED TO ASK TO BE ADDED AGAIN!!)

After watching movies with the group on Christmas night, Kurapika and (Name) headed upstairs. The blonde had been much too nervous to give her his gift in front of everyone, so instead he waited until they went to bed. He brought her to his room, looking at her shyly.

“(Name), I want to give you your gift now…” he said, a soft smile on his face. (Name) looked up as he sat her on his bed, watching as he reached for the top shelf on his closet.

He grabbed a black bag, his cheeks turning pink as he pulled out a little black box. “Here…”

Kurapika handed the box to her, his eyes soft. She gave him a glance before she opened. “Oh, Pika…”

Inside the box was a golden ring, with a ruby and sapphire shaped into a heart. It glittered and gleamed, making her jaw drop. “Kurapika Kurta, how expensive was this? You didn’t have t-“

Kurapika silenced her by taking the box, pulling the ring out. “I did have to. This ring represents us and our care for each other. You’re important to me, more important than you could ever know. I… want to be with you.”

She teared up, offering him her hand. Kurapika smiled, placing it on her pointer finger. “One day, I hope to put one on your ring finger and make you my wife. But for now, I hope that this is enough…”

Although the ring came with no guarantee of a label on their relationship, she knew for sure it was more than just friendship or friends with benefits.

“Pika… this isn’t a proposal, is it?”

Although (Name) loved him, they hadn’t even started dating or established a label to what they were, she wasn’t ready to marry him.

A proposal had been the plan his inebriated mind had thought of when he bought the ring at the mall nearly a month ago, but thankfully Kurapika came up with something different. Kurapika was sure he’d marry her one day, but he knew she might be scared off if he acted too quickly.

“N-no, it’s not a proposal, it’s just… a promise. I’m promising you that I’ll only have eyes for you, that you will be my one and only…”

She tried to smile, but could only stare at him. “… your one and only? And by that, you mean..?”

“Th-the one I want…”

He was getting nervous, and she didn’t want to push him. If he wasn’t ready to put a label on their love, that was okay for now. (Name) wasn’t very patient after all, but for him she was trying. “Okay, Kurapika. I’ll hold you to that.”

The ring was truly beautiful, and it made her feel a little nervous to think about how much it cost. She also wondered how exactly he knew her ring size, because it fit her perfectly.

“Do you… like it?”

He was blushing intensely, his face almost as red as his scarlet eyes. (Name) couldn’t help but giggle, cupping his cheeks. “I love it. It’s an amazing Christmas present.”

She peppered his cheeks in kisses, causing the blonde to melt with her touch. He was putty in her hands, she could kiss and touch him in whatever way she wanted, and it would make him beg for more.

“I love you, Kurapika…”

His cheek nestled against the palm of her hand as he took in all of her affection and love, letting her play with his hair. She only paused for a moment when he didn’t say it back, still feeling a little disappointed.

Kurapika made it up to her by laying his head on her lap, kissing her thighs. “Wanna… make you feel good. Please.”

It was a little surprising just how needy he’d gotten for her pussy with just having sex twice. Kurapika was already tugging her pants off, looking up with those hazy scarlet eyes. “Please?”

She giggled, opening her legs a little so he could see the wet spot forming on her panties. “Is this what you wanted, Pika?”

He breath hitched, and he could only lean forward to press a kiss on her panties, gently lapping at the juices seeping through. She whined softly as he opened her thighs further, sucking at her clit through the thin fabric of her underwear.

“Mmph, Pika, y-you can take them off-“

He wasn’t listening, his eyes closed as he tongued her hole through her panties, holding onto her thighs as he soaked them with his spit.

She whimpered, lightly tugging at his hair. It felt good, but with her hips bucking and the way she was wiggling to try and get his tongue inside of her, it was clear to Kurapika that his angel needed him.

He pushed her panties to the side, too needy to tug them off completely. His immediately went to her clit, giving it lick after lick before latching on, suckling softly as his fingers pumped in and out of her.

Kurapika could spend all day between her legs if she let him. The taste of her pussy was something he could become addicted to if he wasn’t careful.

Nearly an hour passed by, orgasm after orgasm being drawn out of her pretty pussy until she was pushing at his head. “T-too much!”

He glanced up at her for a second, rubbing soothing circles into her thighs. “Shh, you can take one more, be a good girl and behave for me.”

Kurapika sucked on the fat of her thighs, his fingers pumping in and out of her wet cunt. “Almost there, just a little more angel.”

And with one final orgasm, he finally pulled his head away from her pussy, giving her thighs soft kisses. “There, that wasn’t so bad was it? Such a good girl for me…”

She was a panting mess, her thighs sticky and her forehead covered in sweat. He felt giddy, proud that he could make her feel so good.

“Let’s get some rest, (Name).”

He pulled her into his arms, tucking them both away under his comforter for some snuggles as they fell asleep.

————————

“So, are you in?”

Kurapika and (Name) glanced at each other. After being rudely awoken by Leorio bursting into Kurapika’s room. “No.”

Leorio scowled at Kurapika’s answer, walking over. “I wasn’t asking you, I was asking (Name).”

“No.”

“Pika, stop it.”

The blonde pouted, hiding his face away in (Name)’s face. “Ehem. Leorio, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I don’t know if I’d get a babysitter in time for the kids.”

“What about Dia? She loves you, I’m sure she would babysit them!”

“She’s also an adult and it’s on New Year’s.”

Leorio crossed his arms, pouting along with Kurapika. “Oh come on, you can at least ask her! How am I supposed to throw a New Year’s party without my sunshine?”

She smiled at the pet name, rolling her eyes. “Oh, don’t try to sweet talk me, Leorio. I’ll ask her, but if she says no-“

Kurapika wrapped his arms around her, his face squishing against her breasts. “I don’t want you going…”

She sighed, playing with his hair. “Kurapika… you’re such a brat. Why don’t you just come with me?”

“Because if I wanted to hang around a bunch of drunk college students, I would have went to college.”

(Name) patted his head. Leorio had invited her to his apartment for a New Year’s Eve party. He would be inviting some of his college friends, which consisted of only men that were in his major. Leorio wasn’t bad with women, but he also wasn’t great with them, (Name) being the only female friend he had.

“Oh? So you’re not going?”

“Yeah, and you’re not going either, (Name).”

On the night of New Year’s Eve, the mom van pulled up to Leorio’s apartment. Kurapika got out of the car, opening the door and helping (Name) out.

“So much for not coming, Pika,” she teased, watching as he buttoned up her coat. “And what is this about?”

“College students are perverts. Stay near me, and don’t take a drink from anyone.”

“Kurapika, I don’t think Leorio would be friends with any creeps.”

“You never know, (Name).”

She rolled her eyes, holding onto his hand as he helped her up the stairs. They were a little icy, so he kept a hold on her, watching her feet to make sure she didn’t slip.

“Damn it Leorio, he should have scraped these or… something.”

“Kurapika Kurta, you expect him to scrape the ice off of all these stairs just for me?”

“… I would have done it.”

She felt her cheeks warm up as a smile stretched across her face. “Oh? What a sweetheart.”

He melted under her praise, nearly slipping himself as she smiled at him so brightly. “Careful, you’ll trip!”

They waited outside Leorio’s apartment, huddled together for warmth. “Why the hell is he taking so long? Are you holding? Do you want my c-“

The door swung open, revealing Leorio. He was wearing the shirt Killua and Alluka got him for Christmas. “Hey there stud, how’s the party going?”

Leorio blushed at (Name)’s words, laughing nervously. “Well… it’s going.”

They walked in to see a few men sitting on the couch, some playing Magic the Gathering or watching TV. Kurapika snickered to himself. “I didn’t know all your friends were nerds, Leorio.”

(Name) raised an eyebrow in Kurapika’s direction. “Kurapika, I know you aren’t talking. Just a few days ago you went on a rant about history and how it’s been misrepresented in the media. These are your people.”

Kurapika huffed, crossing his arms. She had a point though, Kurapika wasn’t exactly the popular type, besides being handsome. Or pretty, some people seemed to assume he was a woman upon first meeting.

Speaking of…

“Hey, welcome ladies! I thought this party was going to be a total sausage-fest!”

Kurapika scowled, but was calmed down by a gentle caress from (Name). “Oh, Kurapika isn’t a girl. He’s my…”

She thought for a second, glancing at the blonde for a moment. What were they exactly?

“He’s my… date for the night.”

The hesitation in her voice was like a punch in the gut. Although he was the one that hadn’t put a label on anything, a part of him wish she would call him her boyfriend.

But he couldn’t even call her his girlfriend, so he couldn’t get upset.

“I see… well, come sit with us! We just started a new game.”

(Name) was placed between two men, who immediately began explaining the game to her, letting her look at their cards. She seemed to be having fun, but the men were a bit too friendly for Kurapika’s liking.

“(Name).”

He pushed one of the men out of the way, sitting down and pulling her into his lap. “Let me see your cards, maybe I can help.”

“Oh, yeah you’re really smart, I’m sure you can come up with some sort of strategy!”

Kurapika kept a protective arm around her body, his chin resting on her shoulder as he guided her through the game.

Eventually, the others left to grab some drinks from the kitchen, leaving the two alone.

Kurapika gently caressed her hip, his chin resting on her shoulder. “You know, I never thought I was the type to get jealous before I met you.”

She was confused on what he meant, until his hand slipped under her skirt, moving her panties to the side. “K-Kurapika, you can’t-“

Her face went hot when she felt him slip in, barely covering a moan with her hand. “Shh, angel… you don’t want anyone to hear you, do you?”

She panted softly, trying to wiggle and move her hips for some friction, but only earning a squeeze to her thigh. “Angel… calm yourself, shh…”

The others returned, and Leorio was the first to notice her flustered state. “(Name)? You alright? You look like you might be running a fever…”

He leaned over to feel her forehead, and Kurapika seemed to tighten his grip around her body. Leorio was touching her while Kurapika’s cock was nestled inside of her, it felt naughty!

“I-I’m fine! Just… just a little hot…”

Leorio nodded slowly, watching as the blonde flared at him darkly. “I’ll… get you a drink then.”

The game continued, and she was barely able to focus with him twitching inside of her wet heat. Kurapika wasn’t doing so hot either, having to bury his face in her shoulder to keep himself from groaning. He was acting a bit cocky, but inside, all he felt was pure bliss at being able to nestle his cock inside of her like this. She was so warm, and getting to be this intimate with her felt like a dream come true.

As the cock ticked closer to midnight, the blonde tugged a blanket over the two, allowing his hand to slip under her skirt and play with her pussy undetected.

The way her cunt squeezed around him from the pleasure he was giving her made him bite his lip. “Oh, angel…” he choked out.

Leorio glanced at the blonde, raising an eyebrow. “Did you say something, Kurapika?”

The blonde’s cheeks turned bright red, and he stuttered out a quick reply. “N-no… just… just yawned. It’s getting pretty late.”

The taller man knew something fishy was going on, but decided to let it go to spare (Name) any embarrassment. “Yeah… it’s almost midnight.”

As the clock continued to tick forward, the two could feel themselves reaching their limit. Kurapika’s assault on her clit was making the poor girl writhe in his lap, only spurring him on to move his fingers faster. “Are you close, angel?”

His hushed words made her back arch, the feeling of his warm breath on her neck enough to make her pussy clench around him. “S.. so close…”

“Me too…”

(Name) nearly yelped when he lifted her hips and brought her back down on his cock. “P-Pika, they’ll see..!”

“Let them see, then they’ll know who you belong to.”

She felt her face get hot. Kurapika said he had gotten jealous, but she didn’t know how badly it had affected him. The way he fucked into her made her see stars and she was barely able to keep the blanket over them.

Thankfully, the others were either too drunk or two focused on the countdown to care. Even Leorio was busy, laughing as he chatted with one of the men there.

It was nearly midnight, and the countdown had started. She felt his cock slam into her, unable to take it. Thankfully, he was able to pull her in for a kiss just as she let out a whiny moan, muffling her sounds with his lips.

When the clock struck midnight, the two came together, their bodies trembling as Kurapika continued to ride his eyes, filling her wet cunt with his seed.

“And it’s midnight! Ooo, looks like someone got their New Years kiss!”

The two were too spent to even respond to Leorio, just resting in each other’s arms as they recovered from their orgasms.

“Are you alright, angel? Can I get you anything?” Kurapika asked, cupping her cheek gently.

“Don’t think you could… would make a mess…”

He blushed, realizing that if he did get up, his cum might leak everywhere.

For some reason, that made him more uneasy than embarrassed. He placed a hand over her chubby tummy, rubbing it lightly as he imagined his seed taking root in her womb. He was thinking of it again, creating a family, the new Kurta clan through her.

As the other party goers left to go home, Kurapika rested his chin on her shoulder, continuing his soft rubbing motion. Would he ever be able to settle down with her, have a family? What about his revenge? His clan?

His anger?

He never wanted to let his anger and hatred slip away, and deep inside of him, he knew that because of this, he would never be able to give (Name) the life she deserved as long as he held onto it.

It was selfish of him, really, to hold onto her like this when he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep her forever. He wanted it, desperately, with his entire being, but some old dogs can’t learn new tricks.

(Name) seemed so content, resting her head on his chest as she dozed off. She was cute like this really, when she trusted him with her body, with her life. Human beings were such fragile creatures really, with such short lives.

Was he wasting hers by being selfish? Right now, she could be in the arms of someone that would give her the world and more, that would give up anything and everything to stay by her side.

And yet here he was, holding onto her for dear life, tears trailing down his cheeks as he placed shaky kissed into her temple and cheeks.

‘I love you… I love you so much, I’m so sorry… everything I’ve loved, I’ve lost. I…’

He gently brushed some of her hair from her face, gently rocking her in his arms. “Goodnight, (Name).”

Kurapika laid down with her, his cock being kept warm inside of her.

“Sweet dreams, my angel.”

[yurinaa-world]

hello! dan heng, blade, jing yuan with a cat hybrid reader

they found the reader abandoned on some alleyway like a kitten, they have cat ears and a tail, but other than that they have human features

they like taking naps, being petted,climbing to high places

platonic thankwyouu

Characters: Dan Heng, Jing Yuan, and Blade platonic! x Gender-neutral Reader

Synopsis: with cat hybrid reader

Warnings: Fluff, spelling mistakes

𝒟𝒶𝓃 𝐻𝑒𝓃𝑔

Worries about you sleeping in the archive room since it’s a complete mess with books everywhere and his trashy 'bed', which would be akin to sleeping on the floor, but still falling asleep there? Even if he has a bit of a hard time going to sleep, you can sleep there seamlessly without a care in the world.

You want him to pet you all the time, stopping him from putting anything in the archive and just spending his time petting or brushing your ears or tail, the small sounds of purring coming from you. He’s awkward when it comes to doing this stuff for you; he doesn’t know if he’s petting you too roughly or not!

Tries to get off of high places. Yeah,  you may be a hybrid, but you are still part human. Your body is mostly human and just has the tail and ears, and you have extra agility, but your feet won’t land like an actual cat would, so please get off that shelf and don’t bother trying to land on your feet; just jump into his arms.

𝒥𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒴𝓊𝒶𝓃

You just randomly show up at his office, having nothing to do, so he gives you things to sort out files and other things, but you always end up falling asleep. On top of the files, you look pretty cute just lying there, but you should wake up since your face will get numb and have a mark on it, and you’ll complain about it.

Pets you a lot, gives you a lot of attention as much as he gives to Mimi, and has you spend time with each other. Mimi treats you like its own kid, also petting your ears with its paw and licking your face or pressing the side of its face against yours—how adorable! At least you play together without any problems.

You shouldn’t be in trees; you shouldn’t be there; you might get hurt, and you don’t have one of the workers to yell at you to come back down, but you don’t seem to trust anyone but him, so he’ll get you down instead.

𝐵𝓁𝒶𝒹𝑒

Carries you back to your room whenever you fall asleep somewhere random; he just sighs, giving you a piggyback ride while going slow, making sure you don’t wake up, and trying to be gentle all at the same time.

“Blade, give me some attention!” You complain about taking his hand and putting it on your head, wanting him to pet your cat ears. He is such an attention hog, wanting all his attention on you, and sometimes he even pinches your ears in a mean way, making you whine! Why did he do that? Because he can.

Honestly, you're in a high place; it doesn’t matter to him. Do whatever you want; if you can get up there with ease, you can come down with no problem, but if you start asking him to help you, he won’t help unless you say please; if not, then too bad.

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[almondest]

"Even if everyone is against you."

⨾ summary: discriminated by everyone else for your sudden appearance beside the well-known general, he reassures you with the love he will always have for you despite everything else.

⨾ pairings: Jing Yuan x F!reader

"Why the long face my love?" A voice rang through the room, catching your attention.

You were playing with Mimi, feeling its soft fur as it lay on your lap but quickly gets off to approach its master.

"You're back" You say, disregarding his question as you smile at him.

He makes his way towards you, kneeling down and gently taking your hand, caressing it. "What's up?"

"It's nothing at all...." You respond, "Really."

Silence engulfed your shared room, feeling the awkward tension between the two of you before quickly switching the subject. "Ah, that reminds me! I heard that there'll be an upcoming competition soon, will you be joining?"

"I'm not sure... Do you want me to?" He ponders while he plays with your fingers.

You quickly shake your head, "No... But, maybe?"

He chuckled, before taking your hand near his lips, kissing it. "I'll join in and win. And I'll dedicate the price to you."

He squeezes your hand, his eyes looking up to yours with a dangerous glow. "-that way, no one will ever say nonsense about you anymore."

You stared at him with your eyes glistening with brightness as thoughts swirled around. 'He'd participate... Only for that?'

His eyes were looking down, as if it was stuck in a train of thought.

'Suddenly, I seem to understand his actions towards my communication through our peers. From his affectionate touches from time to time in public, his hands connecting to mines as we walk through the vast garden of greenery and flowers, His deathly glares towards those who looked at me with disgust and wariness. He's always concerned, because he's afraid that I might get hurt.'

"About what happened today..." I speak, his eyes who were adrift to the moonlight gazed at mines.

'But even at this moment...'

"Actually... " His eyes widened in range as I tell the events that occured and I look at him with such longing.

'...I hate that I want some certainty about his love for me.'

"They said I was too arrogant and so, filled with so much anger... I accidentally spilled tea on one of the attendants..."

"...I apologize for making such a big mess, I took their words to heart and I doubted your love for me- " I try to send my apologies, but he cut me off.

"Wait, wait." He paused, sighing.

"(Name)." He stood up, taking both my hands to help me stand up.

"To me, You're the most important."

"So whatever happened today and what you heard, just tell me. Don't keep things from me my love..."

Tears slowly stained my cheeks one by one and found my arms slowly wrapped around him. 'I was scared that he'll get mad that I felt, and acted this way just because of that.'

"Yuan. If I truly mean the most to you...Can you fulfill my wish?" I ask, feeling his heart beat.

"I don't have any reason not to."

"Then, Please don't get sick of me." He sighs, resting his head on my shoulder as I feel his warm breath.

"What kind of wish is that darling..."

"Everyone tells me... That your affection for me won't last, and you'll get bored of me."

He scoffed, "Who said such nonsense to you? You know that I'm not that kind of man."

"-Is it because of what they said that made you ask for that kind of wish?" He let go of your embrace, his eyes looking at you with such affection, gentleness, and care.

"Those people aren't just strangers, they've been around you for a while, That's why I..."

His hands made their way to your shoulders, his white locks covering his golden eyes.

"Will you feel better... If I gave you the lives of those people who sent such thoughts in your pretty little head?"

You held a look contorted with fear. "You mustn't do such a thing!"

"Shouldn't a husband fight for his wife's honor? I'll be willing to do anything, just to make you feel all better and free from such thoughts."

"Jing Yuan..."

"So please tell me. What must I do to stop you from hiding and crying anymore..."

He kissed you passionately on the lips, on the cheeks, and on the forehead before bringing you to his embrace.

"Even if everyone is against you. I'll be here, I'll protect you, I'll love you. And I'll never get sick of you."

NOTE! — did you get it? I hope you get it🫥 let me retell. So basically some of Jing Yuans close attendants or whatever you call them (jus workers who worked for him for a long time that he basically considers them as friends) told you things like blah blah blah since you were an unknown existence to them not until be announced his marriage to you and he entered the room seeing you all sad and gloomy and all and then boom🫨

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Carpe Noctem 27

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, gaslighting, manipulation, violence, blood, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (short!reader)

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

Pain puts you to sleep despite your piquing anxiety. You doze until your alarm wakes you. The pin in your neck has dulled enough to move, carefully. You dress in the dark, a turtleneck and your most broken-in jeans. You sit for a while and contemplate the day ahead of you, bracing your mind and body.

You get up and toss your things in your purse, keys, phone, whathaveyou. You'll have coffee at work, may as well get it while you're there. You creep through the large house without turning on any lights, stopping by the door to wiggle into your boots and lifting your jacket from the hook. Lloyd likes to sleep in but you won't chance an early morning encounter.

You go out into the brisk autumn air and toss your purse and coat into the passenger seat as you drop into the driver's side. You adjust the backrest and see the shuddered lights from the second floor. You don't notice any movement or shadows on the other side.

You reverse out and drive without urgency. You'll be well on time, you would just rather be out of that house. You roll the steering wheel with your thumb as you yawn. A glare of headlights flashes in the rearview but don't make the light behind you. They fade as you cruise along, street by street, until you get to the cafe. You park by a meter and use the app to pay for the day.

Cole greets you, approaching at the same time as you. You stand back and wait for him to unlock the door. He holds it for you and follows you inside.

"You okay?" He asks as he turns the latch back into place, "you're quiet."

"Late night," you resist shrugging, not wanting to trigger that tedious nerve.

"Tell me about it," he scoffs as you take out the till to balance and he goes about checking the machines. "Ma has this mouse that won't leave her pantry alone. I spent hours trying to catch the thing. She doesn't wanna kill it so..."

"Aw, that's kinda cute, and so nice of you."

"Yeah, dad won't go along with it. He says if he sees the thing, he'll be sure to stomp it," he clucks his tongue, "I don't even know what to do with it if I do catch it."

"Hmm, yeah, I wouldn't know," you hum as you break a roll of dimes.

"Anyways, work, I got everything expensed out. Do you want reimbursement on your first pay or I can cut you a check today?" He offers as he comes to stand beside you.

"Oh, well, it's whatever. I can wait until payday if it's easier."

He nods and smiles at you, fingers tapping on the counter as he watches you. He's close. Very close. You can smell his pine cologne and vague scent of sawdust. "You say I'm nice? I don't think I've met someone like you in... well, ever. You make everything so easy."

"Uh, really?" You utter skeptically. You'd argue the opposite, everything in your life seems too complicated.

"Yeah, you're so giving. You know, I can tell you take care of everyone else before yourself. It's amazing but not good for you. If you need a day off..."

"No, no, don't worry about me," you open the drawer on the register and shove the till inside, "really, I can manage. I'm used to twenty kids running circles around me."

"Ah, yeah, how was that? You must like kids. Or... did you quit? Was it too much?"

His curiosity bristles on your scalp. He's just being nice and yet, it's a bit too much. Or maybe you're just overwhelmed by everything else. He might be right, you might need a day. But time off means more time in Lloyd's domain.

"No, I loved it. Every day was so fun and you see the kids learning and growing and they just, there's never a problem bigger than a toy they don't want to share, you know?" You can't help but smile, "they called me mimi..." the word dangles, slightly tainted as you hear Lloyd in your head, "and they always wanted hugs."

"Wow, sure beats steaming milk 'til you're red in the face," he drawls, "I wanna be selfish and beg you not to leave us but seems like you loved it."

"Yeah, well, I'll see if I get any calls," you swallow and turn to check the opening list laminated and hung behind the baked goods display.

A knock hammers at the door and startles you both. You look at Cole as he furrows his brow back at you. He tilts his head.

"Peter's closing today..." he utters.

You glance at the door and see a man you don't recognise on the other side. Cole shows his palm, gesturing you to stay as he squeezes past you and goes around the other side of the counter. He crosses to the door and taps his watch at the man.

"We're closed, got half an hour--"

The impatient customer keeps his jaw set and reaches under his dark jacket. He pulls something out and slaps it against the glass. Cole growls and puts his head back. He turns his hands out helplessly and unlocks the door. You spy the man's golden badge as he steps in without a word.

"What's going on?" Cole steps back, hooking his thumbs in his jeans.

"Break-in up the street," the man says, "we're just checking things out..."

"Oh? A break-in?" Cole gulps.

"Really?" You murmur.

The man looks at you, his blue eyes glinting. He nods and faces Cole again, "Detective Fowler."

Cole juts out his chin in thought before he replies, "a detective? Isn't that a bit much for a break-in?"

"Some details can't be divulged," Fowler insists.

"Of course," Cole agrees, "we only just got here like ten minutes ago and we haven't seen anything."

The detective nods as he paces around, considering every inch, soles scuffing across the floor. He nears the counter across from you and looks you up and down. His cheek dimples just slightly.

"Do I know you?" He asks. Your brows pop up and you sputter. No, you don't.

He hums and pokes his tongue inside his cheek, "wait," he snaps his finger, "you know Johnny Storm. Young guy on the beat."

"Um," you look away, "yeah, he's my ex."

"Ah shit, sorry, I didn't know. Don't know the kid much but run into him time to time," he slides his hand into his pocket, "well, guess you two wouldn't know much. If you do see anything..." He slips a card out of his pocket and holds it out to you, "you can call me."

He backs up and turns on his heel. He nods to Cole as he struts back to the door, opening it himself as he leaves you both in nervous silence. Cole grumbles and crosses his arms. You look at him as he scowls.

"Seemed real interested in you," he intones, "I didn't know your ex was a cop."

You wet your dry lips with the tip of your tongue and exhale, "yeah, well, he's my ex for a reason. I've moved on." You return your attention to the list, "so let's do the same and get back to work.”