#sorry for the departure from my usual gifs

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Prima Nocta

Marcus Acacius x Virgin!F!Reader oneshot

{ Main Masterlist }

Rating: E (18+ only)

Summary: Tomorrow, you will marry your husband-to-be. But tonight - it belongs to his father.

Word count: 6k

Warnings: DUB CON only due to nature of prima nocta, both parties enthusiastically consent, twist on prima nocta, unspecified age gap, loss of virginity, dirty talk, oral sex (F receiving), fingering, dry humping, unprotected sex, unrealistic descriptions of first sexual experience, all manners of historical inaccuracies and linguistic anachronisms sorry not sorry, ignores the events of the movie so you can consider this an AU, Marcus is widowed and has a son, shall we call this bfd: Ancient Rome version lmao

Notes: I'm a bit rusty for sure, but I had the absolute best time writing this oneshot. It's a departure from my usual themes to say the least, but once this idea took hold of me it never let go. I know prima nocta is meant to be invoked on the wedding night, but I like the idea of it being the night before so I made it so 🤷🏻‍♀️ Gorgeous dividers by @firefly-graphics as always.

He thought he had gotten away with it. Having lived more than fifty winters in the capital and outlasting eight emperors, he regrets to confess that he is still none the wiser. 

It would have been such a clever manoeuvre. Palming off a generous but very much unwanted gift from the emperors, and marrying off his son in one fell swoop. 

He should have been suspicious of their swift assent to his proposal. In his eagerness to bow out of their audience, it had been convenient to dismiss the flash of malice in their eyes.

And in the snake pits of Roman court, no misstep goes unexploited.

He is not proud that he is caught off guard by the emperor’s closest advisor who intercepts his walk home from the armoury, even less so of his ineloquent response to the missive handed to him.

‘What is this?’

‘Urgent word from the emperors, sir.’

Cold sweat prickles the back of his neck as he stares unseeingly at what is scrawled on the parchment.

‘I cannot,’ he blurts out, indignance rising fast and hot in his chest. ‘I will not.’

‘You think it wise to twice refuse the emperors’ generosity, general?’

General. To him, the culmination of a lifetime of service and sacrifice. To them, an instrument of bloodshed in war, a plaything in peacetime.

Desperate, he tries a different tact. ‘The right of the first night belongs to the emperors. I dare not commit sacrilege.’

‘It is not sacrilege if it is freely bequeathed upon you, general.’

There is no mistaking the warning lilt in the last word, and he has no answer.

‘The hour grows late. You had better not keep the bride waiting,’ says the advisor with an air of finality before retreating into the shadows.

Marcus shudders at the cold that settles into the empty space, fingers stained with ink from the now crumpled dispatch. 

He remembers nothing of the remainder of his short journey to his quarters. As the front door swings open, he realises there is something in the night air that is out of place.

Sea salt.

You are here. 

Would you be demure? Frightened? You are of royal lineage, a lady of the small but proud coastal kingdom strong-armed by Rome into an unequal treaty for its profitable trading posts, in return for the mercy of not being razed to its fertile grounds.

And now, you are lowered to marry a general’s son. 

Worse, lowered to have your virginity taken by his father.

Candlelight spills from the crack underneath the door to his bedchamber. Marcus takes a deep breath, and pushes it open.

You hear him. The swish of fabric, the slide of leather soles on marble.

The general is here.

Your hand in marriage is part of the terms of the treaty, and the missive that sent for you announced your match as the widowed hero general. You had him cast on the wretched journey from your home as one of the domineering, brutish soldiers now garrisoned at your family’s kingdom - only to be told on your arrival that you will be marrying his son instead.

Relief at the news that your future husband would not be decades older than you is instantly snatched away by furtive whispers of prima nocta.

Your future father-in-law will take you first.

The humiliation is bitter on your tongue. You are Rome’s to marry off, hers to give to whomever she pleases -

But she won’t break you.

The door creaks. You stand tall and hold your ground.

He sweeps into the room with an air of well-worn authority, the cloak on his back dark as the shadows that nip at his heels.

The candles flicker when he sheds the heavy robes with a smooth sweep of his arm.

You stare, in a manner that would have had your lady-in-waiting tutting. But you are alone, very much so, with this man not ten paces from you.

General Marcus Acacius. 

He is older, certainly old enough to have a son your age. But you had not imagined him so - strong, for the lack of a more imaginative word. His shoulders are broad under his wine red tunic, and you can see the muscles in his arms flex as he clenches and unclenches his fists at his sides. From where you stand, you can hardly see any silver in his dark curls.

Marcus unflinchingly assesses you right back. 

No, you are decidedly not demure. Or frightened. Far from it. 

You are defiant, even as you observe him with evident curiosity. Your head held high, a telltale sign of your noble breeding, mouth set in a stern line while your eyes burn bright with a proud fire. 

Judging the silence has gone on long enough, he breaks it with a formal, ‘My lady.’

‘General,’ you answer steadily.

The door slams shut belatedly behind him, and you flinch - the first glimpse of weakness you concede. 

Marcus breathes in, delivering his next sentence with as much composure as he can muster. ‘I expect you have been informed of the - formalities that we are to perform tonight.’

You grind your teeth so hard you are astonished that your jaw doesn’t crack.

Your virtue is just a formality.

Refusing to dignify his question with an answer, you nod once. 

He watches you wordlessly, and you meet his gaze. You thought you would find something else there, not the regret that you see.

Turning away from you, he reaches for the amphora on the table. 

‘Wine?’

‘Yes, please.’

The wine is drunk in silence and moderation. Him at his desk, you perched on the end of the bed.

As you sip, pacing yourself, you observe the general discreetly from across the small distance between you. 

To say that you are disconcerted by his behaviour would be an understatement.

You assumed that he asked for this - for the perverse pursuit of deflowering his son’s bride-to-be while eschewing the unwanted responsibility of a wife. 

Yet, watching him stare pensively into his goblet, lips pursed in a pout that is almost sullen, you are not so certain anymore. 

When you bring your drink to your mouth to find it empty, you clear your throat. ‘I have to wake up early tomorrow morning - for the wedding.’

The general starts before collecting himself, drawing himself up to his full height as he sets down his cup with a heavy clunk. ‘Understandably, my lady.’

Then he moves, charting a course across the room, licking his thumb and index finger to douse the candles dotted around the space.

The thought comes to you unbidden - he has thick fingers. And big hands. 

Your cheeks tingle with heat.

Soon the chamber is cloaked in darkness, save for the candles next to the bed, the warm light pooling in the most inviting manner on the soft surface despite your trepidation. You long to rest your aching feet. 

He comes to a standstill on the other side of the bed, as if waiting for you to take the lead. You cannot decide whether you are thankful for him not imposing on you, or frustrated at him for not taking the lead in what is very much unfamiliar territory.

In the end, the desire to get off your feet wins out, and you gesture at the bed. ‘Shall we…?’

‘Certainly.’ He bends down, you assume to take off his sandals. You do the same, toeing off the soft leather slides the maids had you change into when they dressed you.

Once barefoot, you climb in with as much grace as you can summon, acutely aware that you have an audience. Your knees sink into the mattress, and you’re relieved that it is stuffed with feathers, luxuriously giving under your weight. Shifting primly, you find your back against the headboard, cushioned by equally soft pillows.

The general follows suit, the frame creaking as he eases onto the suddenly too small bed, strong shoulders brushing yours as he settles next to you.

You stare hard at the back of your hands, the only way to stop your gaze from wandering to the span of his fingers splayed wide on sturdy thighs, or lower to the bony ridge of his knees - gods, you must be unwell, since when have you been drawn to knees?

You are still questioning the state of your sanity when the general, who has been nothing but unperturbed and composed since he stepped into the room, stumbles over his words in a manner that is neither, as if he had held the question behind his teeth for too long.

‘Are you - are you absolutely certain - in no doubt - that you are… untouched?’

His question stings like salt in a festering wound. Indignant doesn’t even begin to describe the retort you spit at him. ‘Yes, I am. Are you?’

Peering at you sideways, his eyes widen at your outburst, and fear briefly flits across your heart that you have overstepped.

 But then, he surprises you with a smile. ‘You bite, don’t you?’ 

You let your shoulders sag, too far gone to hold onto your facade. 

‘It’s been a long day, sir,’ you admit. ‘To be frank, I just want to get this over with and forget it ever happened.’

He pauses at your confession, as if weighing his options. Then he shifts, and says, ‘The reason I ask if you were untouched is because, if you were not - we could have just pretended we did this.’

You frown. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I did not invoke prima nocta, it was imposed upon me. The emperors are displeased that I turned down the betrothal, this is their way of punishing me for my ungratefulness.’ 

Oh.

As much as you didn’t want this either, your pride suffers to hear him describe it as a punishment.

‘I know…’ you stumble, halting to steel yourself. ‘I know I am nothing like the women here in Rome. I spend too much time in the sun, and my hands are rough from working with horses -’

‘Why do you say that?’ he interrupts you.

You look away. ‘That is why you do not wish to marry me, is it not? And why you do not want this - why you do not want me.’

The general sits up, palms on the mattress to support his weight, the lines on his forehead deepening with a frown. ‘No, that is not the reason. You are young, you deserve a husband who can build a life with you in the years to come. Not a washed-up widower.’

The bitterness in his voice turns your head. 

‘You’re not washed up, from what I hear.’ Somehow, you find the courage to add boldly, ‘Or from what I see.’

Letting your eyes trail unabashedly over his broad frame, a thrill chases through your blood when you notice his Adam’s apple bob with a tight swallow. He’s so close that you know you’re not imagining the heat seeping into your bones.

Silence stretches between you, charged with a consciousness that creeps in and spreads. Two souls from different worlds and stations put in a situation in which neither of you had a hand. This may not be how you imagined giving away your virtue - far from it - yet your stomach twists in anticipation.

You glance upwards, only to find him already watching you.

Something has shifted when you so bravely reached out and tipped the balance with your words. He can tell that you are not one for flippant flattery, and it takes him a moment to collect himself, harder said than done with the blood roaring in his ears.

When he speaks, it comes out in a much lower register than he intends, so much so it sounds like a secret. 

‘You say you just want to get this over with. But I can - I can make it good for you. It doesn’t have to be something you want to forget.’

Your eyes widen and your lips part, and heat blooms almost uncomfortably in his chest. ‘You would do that for me?’

‘I will serve you in whatever way you ask of me tonight, my lady.’

Never have mere words, albeit delivered in such a delicious baritone, moved you so. You came in expecting to have your virtue stripped from you, the same way Rome callously stole you away. Where you thought humiliation and dishonour awaited, this man is offering deliverance and devotion - if only for one night.

Your throat tight with emotion, you nod in lieu of a spoken answer.

Marcus is deliberately slow in his movements, wanting you to feel safe in his presence. ‘How much do you know? So I know what I need to teach you.’

Despite yourself, shyness rears its head and you mumble, ‘I’ve - I’ve heard stories. I know what… happens… between a man and a woman in the bed chamber.’

He nods reassuringly, making you feel less of a fool for the juvenile answer you gave. ‘And has anyone touched you before?’

There’s no mistaking the lurch in your stomach as your heart hammers violently. ‘No. No one. Never.’

The protector in him stirs, summoned to duty, warring with the desire that seethes under his skin like the unholy flames of Vesuvius. He fears it is a quickly losing battle. 

Reading the desire in your endearingly open face, Marcus reaches over you to settle one hand on your hip as he leans close, his breath warm on your cheek.

‘Have you ever kissed a man?’ he rasps. 

You shake your head, eyes fixated on his mouth, framed by a tidy moustache. He is so close that you can see his beard is flecked with silver.

You swear the general is leaning into you, and every inch of you is on tenterhooks, enraptured by his proximity -

‘You should save it for your husband.’

You barely forestall the whine of protest that teeters on the tip of your tongue, pinching your lips together, but his lopsided smile tells you that he knows. 

‘I can kiss you elsewhere though.’

‘Oh,’ you inhale shakily when he dips to mouth at the side of your neck, landing on your pulse point in a suckle. Your whole body arches off the bed, hands gripping the sheets, head spinning at all the sensations that are new to you - the burn of his stubble, the cool trail his lips leave behind -

Then the palm on your hip pulls you into him, sprawling you against the wide cage of his body, your breasts pressed against his broad chest. The dress they put you in is thin, and the fabric rubs against your pebbling nipples as his kisses travel daringly low.

‘Am I going too fast?’ he pauses, voice strained.

Breathlessly, you shake your head.

‘If you want me to stop, or wait, you say the word. Understood?’

‘Yes, general.’

Two words he hears daily from his men, and yet from your lips, they unleash a dangerously feral side of him.

More. Is the only coherent thought that remains. 

Impatient hands reposition you so that you are astride him, and he groans when you slot flush in his lap. He watches your eyes widen at what you feel between your legs. Your dress rides up, and his blood rushes south at the bare expanse of your inner thighs on his skin. 

‘I want to see you,’ he speaks plainly, palms squeezing the dip of your waist. ‘May I undress you? Please?’

All decorum flees you, and you might have chanted yes, yes, yes to his question.

Dropping your chin, you watch his thick fingers nimbly undo the knot holding the front of your dress together. The silk capitulates like water, tumbling down in delicate drapes around your waist, baring you to his heated gaze.

‘You are beautiful,’ he declares with a solemnity that steals your breath.

And it is easy to believe him, the way his dazed eyes trail over your breasts, before his hands follow. Calloused palms, which you are sure have held many a sword in triumph, now cup your tender flesh in reverence. 

Your head lolls to the side as he teases you, but when he rolls his hips upwards, your eyes snap to the pained expression on his face. You’ve heard ladies in court whispering over wine about length and girth, but nothing could prepare you for the thrill of feeling a man’s undeniable desire for you.

Instinct guides you, moving your hips so that you are grinding against his length, seeking relief from what is building deep within you.

‘Do what feels good,’ the general murmurs encouragingly, palms on the small of your back to let you take control.

And just like that, you are thrown back to one summer’s day in your youth. You were bathing in a rock pool, under the spray of a waterfall in perfect solitude when you accidentally slipped forwards on the smooth stone surface. The unexpected sensation between your legs ripped through you like lightning on a clear day. And you chased that feeling, hips undulating until you shuddered and cried out. Knees trembling in the aftermath, you never dared to seek it out again, but neither did you forget.

And now, years later, you finally know what had transpired. Pleasure. And this time, under the general’s hooded gaze, you pursue it with single-minded determination.

Marcus wishes you knew how beautiful you are in this very moment. Breasts swaying in tandem while you rock back and forth on his clothed length, eyes glazed, every whimper from your swollen lips making him throb harder for you.

‘Good girl,’ he rasps, throat tight. ‘Take your pleasure. Take what you need.’

And when he sucks your nipple into his mouth, you wail, tipping forward at an angle that unexpectedly takes you apart.

The waves that wash over you are more intense than you remember, and you are sure that has to do with the man holding your hips to his as you buck, and the warm swirl of his tongue against your breasts, sucking and nipping as you come down from your high.

‘That was not your first time,’ he states as a matter of fact when the white noise in your ears finally fades.

‘It happened once, a long time ago, and I didn’t understand then -’

‘And now you do.’

‘Yes, general.’

This time, he lets loose a moan at your words. ‘I can feel your wetness through your dress.’

Confused, you look down, and your cheeks burn when you spot the dark patch on the delicate fabric. ‘Oh, I -’

‘It’s natural,’ he assures you. ‘The wetness makes it easier for -’

It dawns on you when you feel his hardness twitch under you. Oh. 

‘It - you feel -’ you stutter, struggling to comprehend how the girth of what you are sitting on could possibly fit inside you.

Taking your hand, Marcus presses a chaste kiss to your palm, eyes warm and open. 

‘We will take it slow. I will use my fingers first, to prepare you for me,’ he explains patiently. ‘I promised I would make it good for you, did I not?’

‘You did.’ 

And you have complete faith in him.

Your knees knock into each other hopelessly when he slides you off his lap, and he has to bodily prop you up against the pillows. Sinking into the soft feathers, you watch him kneel between your parted legs, and you feel so safe even as he towers over you. 

‘May I disrobe you?’

You bite your bottom lip, and nod. 

Except it’s not a disrobing, it’s nothing near as civil as that. The general rips the rest of your dress clean down the middle, rendering you completely bare beneath him.

Marcus knows should be ashamed of his brash behaviour. But how could he when you react so viscerally, jaw slack as your chest heaves in unmitigated desire? 

His gaze shamelessly trail over every curve and dimple, from the breasts he has tasted to where your knees are demurely closed, and knowing that he is the first - the only - to have laid eyes on you makes him impossibly hard. 

It matters not that you are not his to keep. This will always be his. 

‘You are exquisite,’ he professes, voice tight. 

You duck your head, more shy of his compliments than being nude before him. ‘You don’t have to.’

Sliding a finger under your chin and tilting your head until you meet his gaze, he assures you, ‘I mean every word.’

Then he moves down the bed until he can rest his weight on his elbows, and you startle when rough palms glide over the outside of your thighs, stopping at your knees. 

He pauses to give you time. ‘Are you certain you wish to continue?’

Your answer is a confident yes.

Then, as if opening the shell of Venus, he delicately pries your knees apart, and his breath hitches as you are revealed to him.

He is aware that he’s staring like an imbecile, words failing him. As the silence stretches on, you become self-conscious.

‘General,’ you demur, moving to cover yourself.

Shaking his head, he finally says, ‘Forgive me, but you are perfect.’

Then he looks up at you with such intensity that has you struggling to catch your breath, and without breaking eye contact, he bows his head - 

And closes his lips over you there. 

You are wholly unprepared - no one has ever gossiped about this in court. Your hips buck violently off the bed, but Marcus holds you down with reassuring hands, suckling on the pearl between your thighs with gentle laps of his tongue.

‘Oh, oh, oh,’ you stuttter, torn between watching the man wreak the most devastating pleasure on you and averting your gaze.

You’ve only ever known worship to be pious, and yet, this most vulgar adulation is the closest you’ve been to the gods.

His beautiful curls brush the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, catching the candle light as he moves, and the crook of his nose - so proud even with the scar on its bridge - draws patterns on your skin as he stakes his claim where no one has ever touched you. 

You quickly realise that what you felt just now in the general’s lap was insignificant and thin in comparison. This pleasure is all-consuming, something divine that has you weak and trembling all over. All you hear are slick, wet sounds of tongues and lips, and your own whimpers between garbled groans.

Marcus feasts on you, unapologetically. Flattening his tongue, he tastes you in broad sweeps, moaning into your sweet cunt as you writhe above him, your needy mewls driving him to the edge of madness. You taste like fig - the earthiness of the purple peel, ripe sweetness of the pink flesh.

Then your hands wind into his hair, pulling him closer, ankles hooking over his shoulders. He groans harder, the sound rattling in his ribs as you soak his beard. Surrendering any last vestiges of shyness, you rock against his tongue, nails scratching his scalp as you whine louder into the night air. 

Moans that will echo long after you’re gone.

The thought alone hardens his resolve to mark you unequivocally. You’re close, your pliant body quivering and breaths coming in shallow gasps now. He peers up at you, but your eyes are sealed shut and upturned at the gods, your breasts heaving.

Gently, he eases one finger inside you, and he grunts at how easily he slides in. You barely react, and so he pushes back in with two, coaxing a cry from you. Your cunt clenches as he gently thrusts his digits in and out, stretching your tight walls. 

‘Oh gods. Oh gods,’ you pant violently.

You’re close, so close. He wants to warn you of what is to come, but it feels like sacrilege to tarnish the moment with words. When he feels you begin to quiver, he laves at your clit harder, burying his fingers inside you to the knuckle, until he feels you crest and break. 

‘Gods, oh gods - Marcus!’

The cry of his name catches him off guard. He nearly loses control right there and then, as you ride out your high on his fingers, but by some miracle he holds out through gritted teeth. He devotes his attention to kissing his way up your body, from the slick inside of your thighs, to the side of your hip, making you jump when he sucks on your sensitive breasts.

You stare at his mouth with wild, dark eyes, and him at yours, but he vowed to leave your first kiss to your husband. Girding his self-restraint, he asks, ‘Are you alright?’

‘Yes, Marcus.’

His cock twitches at the sound of his name on your lips. He wants to hear you say it in all manners of ways - whisper it, gasp it, scream it. And by the cheekiness in your smile, it’s clear that you know what he’s thinking.

Your eyes drop to where his hardness is pressed against you. ‘Will you teach me how to please you, general?’

He swallows a groan, the animal in him rattling the bars of its cage. He replies diplomatically, ‘I will teach you how to teach your husband.’

In one smooth tug, he shucks off his tunic, then his loincloth, and he tries not to be self-conscious under your watchful gaze. Pulling you against him, skin on naked skin, he smears kisses along the side of your neck, smiling at your answering shudder. In return, you run your lips and scrape your teeth over his collarbone. 

Taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your palm, he slides it all the way down his chest and wraps your fingers firmly around his throbbing cock, his pained moan in your ear.

Eyes wide, you marvel at the size of him in your grip. ‘You are so big.’

Marcus curses through clenched teeth. ‘You are an insolent girl.’

With a wicked glint in your eyes, you correct yourself, ‘You are so big, general.’

If he wasn’t so aroused, he would have chuckled at your cheek. Instead, he growls, ‘Such insubordination.’

Tilting your head to one side, you grin. ‘And how would you discipline me, sir?’

He lets the silence linger for a beat, allowing anticipation to build as one big hand splays over your ass, hot lips brushing the shell of your ear. ‘I would deny you my cock, my lady. Let your sweet cunt weep for me, empty, not knowing how good it would feel to have me deep inside you.’

You are unsure if you are more shocked at the explicitness of his words, or at the gush of wetness that has you pressing your thighs together. If you had to wager a guess, he is just as affected as you by the way his length pulses in your grasp.

Marcus smiles as he takes in the way your body reacts to him. ‘But how can I deny such a lovely, desperate creature such as yourself?’

A sob escapes you. ‘Please, Marcus - I’m yours to take.’

With that, all self-restraint abandons him, and his lips crash into yours. At the back of his mind, he knows you deserve a better first kiss, something gentle and sweet. But to your credit, you seem to take it in stride, winding your arms around his neck with a deep groan as he deepens the kiss. Opening up your mouth, he sweeps his tongue against yours, making sure you taste yourself and the pleasure that he had wrung from you.

When he reluctantly pulls back for air, you hum, ‘I thought you said I should save that for my husband.’

He all but snarls, ‘Damn your husband.’

The possessiveness in his tone sends you reeling, and his resolve wears even thinner when your cunt brushes against him, so wet and soft, begging for him. 

‘I cannot wait any longer,’ he declares.

You bite your lip beseechingly. ‘Please, Marcus, I cannot either.’

He braces himself above you on strong arms, until all you can see is him, backlit by the soft candlelight. Beholding his beauty - the wisps of gray at his temples, the scar lining his cheekbone - your breath catches at the tenderness in his eyes as he stares down at you.

Holding the base of his cock, Marcus notches himself at the entrance of your cunt, trembling as he holds himself back. 

‘I will go slow,’ he assures you. ‘If it hurts, you tell me to stop. Understood?’

Your mouth dry, you can only nod. 

Holding your gaze, Marcus rolls his hips ever so slowly, jaw slack when he breaches you, inch by tortuous inch.

He is barely inside you and you already feel so unfathomably full.

‘Marcus,’ you gasp when it gets impossibly tight, nails digging into his broad shoulders.

He stops, and whispers encouragingly, ‘You are doing so well for me, taking me so beautifully. Just breathe.’

In between his patient, languid kisses, you unfurl, and Marcus gently pulls back, before pushing into you, deeper this time.

When you cry out, he shushes you, brushing the wet corners of your eyes with his lips. ‘Does it hurt?’

You shake your head. ‘No, it’s just - so much.’ 

‘I know, I can feel how tight you are gripping me,’ he mumbles into your neck, throbbing inside you while he holds himself still as you adjust. ‘Brave, sweet girl.’

When you find your voice again, you give him cheek. ‘I am a woman now, general.’

He smiles at you - a warm curl that crinkles the corners of his eyes endearingly - and claims your lips again. Feeling the tension seep out of your body, he thrusts shallowly so you can learn the movement of his hips. When he hits a spot that makes your jaw drop and your hips buck, he pulls all the way back, and drives himself to the hilt in one smooth motion.

And with that, you become a part of his soul, and his yours. His chest swells with the fiercest possessiveness and the greatest honour all at once, despite knowing that the circumstances that brought you together will inevitably tear you asunder at the break of dawn.

‘Marcus!’ you choke on a sob, throwing your head back, your walls clutching his cock in a merciless grip.

‘There she is,’ he grunts, mouth scraping the shell of your ear. ‘Say my name like that.’

And you do, over and over again, as he fucks into you. His pants land harshly in the crook of your neck with every thrust, hands greedily squeezing all the skin he can find - the curve of your ass, the dimple in your waist, your thigh to hitch it over his hip.

Looking down at you, eyes drunk and unfocused as you stare back at him, each squeeze of your wet cunt around him, every breath from your lips feels sacred.

He is seized by a sudden need to know. ‘How does it feel?’

Your eyes soften, and he shudders when you cup the side of his face to bring his nose to yours. ‘Divine.’

Marcus loses himself in you, in the wet squelch of your cunt around his length, the way your tightness takes every thrust. Words of praise that he doesn’t even hear tumble from his lips and onto every inch of skin he can reach as you cling to him, scraping your nails down his back and digging into the meat of his ass.

Pitching forward to press a hard kiss to you, he says, ‘I want you to fall apart for me again.’

‘Please, Marcus, please.’

Pushing himself up to his knees, still buried deep inside you, he spreads your thighs obscenely wide over his hips, and he moans at the sight of your cunt so full of him. With hooded eyes, he sucks on two of his thick fingers and brings them between your legs, carefully drawing circles on your clit, knowing that you are already sensitive from cumming twice for him before.

Your face twists in agony as he builds you towards another climax, patiently weaving the web of pleasure that wounds you tighter and tighter until your spine feels like it will snap in two. ‘Marcus, oh - don’t stop, don’t stop, oh gods -’

He bares his teeth as he feels you start to clench around him. ‘That’s it, that’s it. Cum on my cock, let me feel you, give it to me.’ 

Your peak crashes into you relentlessly, and as you are swept away, you can only wail and thrash, while Marcus curses and stutters unintelligibly above you as he spins out of control.

He had every intention to pull out, but it is as if some higher power is determined to foil his plans. With a guttural roar, his hips snap flush against yours, big palms grasp you so hard by the waist that you squeal, and he spills into you in hot gushes, once - twice - and again until he is spent.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

He doesn’t know if he said that aloud or if it was a trick of the mind. All he knows is that he eventually collapses bonelessly onto you, skin fused together with sweat and cum as your breaths become one in the crisp night air.

It is him who breaks the stillness, his old bones creaking when he stirs to relieve an ache in his back. His softened cock slides out of you, prompting you to whine in protest. He grunts when he looks down to see his cum dribble out of your cunt, leaving a pearly trail on the inside of your thighs.

When he meets your eyes, there is no awkwardness in the silence. ‘Forgive me, I didn’t mean to spill my seed inside you. That was reckless.’

Your heart skips a beat at his admission, and you can’t hide the pride in your voice. ‘Do I make you reckless, general?’

He tries and fails to be stern in his answer, the tenderness with which he brushes his nose on your cheek giving him away. ‘I know better than to encourage your insolence with an answer.’

You are far from discouraged though, quite the opposite. Knowing you have this man - who commands armies of thousands - at your mercy is a siren’s call.

Peering at him from under your eyelashes, you curl one leg around his waist. ‘Do you want to be reckless again?’

He huffs, but a smile breaks through. ‘Have you ever been told that you are a cocktease?’

You hum teasingly. ‘I have never heard that word before, but I like it.’

‘You do?’ he breathes against your lips. ‘You like being my cocktease?’

‘Yours, general.’

Marcus is astounded when he feels himself harden again, and he moans as you press open-mouthed kisses down his neck. ‘What spell have you cast on this old man, my little cocktease?’

You grin, letting him ease you onto your back so he can settle between your thighs again. ‘The kind that lasts until dawn.’

Eventually, morning must break, sure as the moon turns and the sun rises. In the golden rays of day, you will wed his son in ironic, virginal white, showered in rose petals. He will look on from the side in his finest ceremonial robes of red, as you walk away from him and into your new life as someone else’s wife.

But in the velvety folds of this night and many more to come, safely ensconced in the deepest corners of his memories, in lands far away, in war and in peace, there he keeps you - where you are not.

More notes: Thank you for reading! As usual, comments/reblogs/asks would be very much appreciated 🥰 I hope you enjoyed this fic as much as I loved writing it!

[lanabuckybarnes]

I love bucky and princess 🥰 could you maybe do something where he’s punishing her and then gets really annoyed when she’s not answering his questions after they’ve been going a while…he thinks she’s being bratty but it’s because she’s in sub space and can’t really hear him and is feeling vulnerable?

Confessions.

18+ MINORS DNI

Princess has been off all day; a lingering feeling deep within her, running through her veins and it’s driving her insane. It’s not she’s around Bucky she realises just what it was. Bucky realises something too.

Pairing: Bodyguard!Bucky x Bratty!Reader (Princess)

Warnings: Princess screaming at poor workers again, Dom Bucky, Brat Taming, Spanking (with a belt), Hair Pulling, Subspace Princess, Very Guilty Bucky, Praising, Kinda Sweet, Confessions, the L word bleugh — any more warnings please let me know!!

Word Count: 2.6k

Note: thank you to my bbg @buckys-wintersoldier for reading over this and making sure I didn’t just straight up delete it lol and for helping me decide what to do with it. I love ya

Princess has been feeling off all day. A sensation lurking deep in her bones that just doesn’t feel normal and when something doesn’t feel right with Princess she tends to freak out—letting her recently sweet behaviour around Bucky slip as she nose dives into something she feels comfortable in, something that she can wrap around her like a defensive shell.

Usually, in times like this, she’d use Bucky’s still aura to her advantage, letting his calmness embrace her until she felt right again but he wasn’t here—of course the day she felt herself slip Bucky was dealing with other business.

Lost in her trance she fails to notice the maid turning the corner; she blasts right into her, sending the tray the woman was carrying reeling to the floor, the red wine and olives staining the rug instantly. But it wasn’t the rug Princess cared for, the wine had splattered all over her stark white dress, red pooling on the train at her feet—it was brand new and more expensive than a small car.

Before she could stop herself the uneasy feeling creeped into her veins, boiling alongside the anger she felt and exploding into rage.

“Are you FUCKING STUPID!” She spat, the maid instantly flinching and cowering into herself.

“I swear to fucking good no one here is actually good at their job, I mean how hard is it to watch where you're walking…look at that” Her hands grabbed at the dress, shaking the train, her eyes trained on the maid as she looked at the fabric in sheer terror.

“I-I'm really sorry miss I didn’t see you-“Princess snarled, cutting off the woman’s pleading words.

But before anything else could fall from her mouth that she would regret his voice entered the house. She sucked on her bottom lip as his loafers clicked against the floor until she could smell his cologne— usually the scent was enough to have her hanging her head in submission but she was furious, she wouldn’t go down that easy.

Bucky jutted his chin to the side behind Princess, signalling to the maid that she could scurry off and out of the penthouse for at least a little bit. The staff that frequented the house had grown accustomed to the fact that Bucky’s entry meant their departure and the maid couldn’t have been more thankful that he’d chosen to show up just there.

“Princess?” He spoke, authority dripping from the name as he tilted his head ever so slightly. When she turned to face him all his questions were answered. Bucky had years to master his impeccable poker face, standing in front of a mirror for hours at a time had taught him to remain completely unreadable but, it had also taught him how to read others like open books and the girl standing in front of him had all cover open and pages lain bare for him to study.

“Fucking bitch spilt shit on me” She was still angry but his body close to her was slowly sucking the rage from her bones, replacing it with the submission she was so used to—but that feeling remained, heavy in the pit of her stomach and pumping around her bloodstream.

“Did you shout at her?” He asked, fingers curling around her jaw and raising her head until she was gazing at his steel blue eyes. For some unknown reason, Bucky had the innate ability to sense when Princess lied to him, so she never did.

“Mhmm” she nodded against his tight hold, averting her gaze to his dark-coloured tie.

“And you remember what happens when we shout at people right?” He questioned, fingers digging into the fat of her cheeks until her lips parted just enough for his thumb to slip in.

-

Princess yelped as the leather cracked down on her ass again, right in the spot he’d struck before. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she fisted the sheets below her; her chest heaving as she took stuttered breath after stuttered breath. She’d lost count of the spanks, choosing instead to focus on not screaming out—Bucky growled as he brought the leather down two more times.

“You gonna fucking keep forgetting our rules huh? Little slut…maybe you wanted fucking spanked, is that it is that why you're Not. Fucking. Answering. Me. Brat.” He enunciated each word with a heavy chop of his belt against the backs of her thighs before leaning forward grabbing a fist full of her hair and pulling her up against his clothed front.

He chuckled at the unabashed moan that fell from her lips as the dark leather ran over the swell of her tit, tapping against her nipple “Maybe I gotta hurt these a little for you to listen, what do you think of that princess?” And for the first time since shoving her onto his bed he looked at her face. His grip loosened in realisation as he noticed the fogged expression over her eyes—lips parted and swollen, her face red and puffy with tear tracks running down till they slipped over her jaw and down her neck. He knew straight away exactly what was going on.

He sucked in a breath as he guided her down gently, unwrapping his hand from the belt and tossing it off to the side.

“Angel?” He whispered, slotting himself between her spread legs and running a thumb over her cheekbone; she mustered a small nod in response.

“Ohhh babygirl you feeling extra subby today huh? Should’ve told me baby and I wouldn’t have hurt you so bad” he flinched at the hiss she let out as his finger smoothed over the welted skin on her ass.

Since the first whack of his belt against her rear that feeling that festered in her body had finally begun to take over; starting from her heart to her sweet little mind, clouding it over until all she could hear was the rushing of her blood and her soft little whimpers as Bucky punished her, spanking her again and again for being so bratty and ignoring him. When she finally reached out, pulling herself to the forefront of her mind, Bucky was leaning over her, swiping away at her tears tenderly while his other hand held up his weight.

He smiled sweetly as some of the fog lifted from her eyes, her wide-coloured orbs watching him like he was the centre of her world—right now he very much was.

“Good girl that’s it, you took your punishment so well princess…just wish you told me you were feeling like this” On the outside Bucky fronted a tenderness he reserved for only her but his brain growled at him for being such an idiot.

How had he not noticed the signs? They were glaring right at him the whole time yet he brushed them off, assuming that she’d just been her bratty self—he was scared she would cower away from him, that he’d pushed her too far and she was too deep in her subspace to say no. He’d hurt her bad.

For the first time since being around Bucky she could read his expression, he was in pain, upset, guilty.

Princess hated seeing his face contorted in such a way.

With a shaky hand she cupped Bucky’s stubbled face and brought his lips down onto hers; sucking up any insecurity he felt into her hot mouth and swallowing it greedily.

When he pulled away to catch his breath, much to her dismay, she let out a desperate whine “Want you Bucky” Her eyes swirled with lust as she begged the man for something he wasn’t sure he could give her—not without hurting her again.

“But I hurt you angel” his voice trembled as he replied, his right hand splayed out on the sheets beside her head, holding up his weight as his left fingers caressed her cheek.

She shakes her head animatedly at his words; he could never hurt her, ever. “Mm mm Buck you didn’t hurt me, I just wanna be your good girl”.

“You’re always my good girl princess” he whispered, lips pecking the tip of her nose.

“Then show me”.

Her hands ran down his built body, fingers expertly undoing the buttons of his shirt as they went; her mouth parts as her eyes followed the opening of his shirt, rock solid abs decorated with a soft happy trail, his muscle under his pecs stretching and tensing as he pulled the shirt from his body. She’d never seen him without his typical suit but gazing up at his body now had her questioning if she should make the dress code in her house nothing but tight black briefs just so she could be blessed with the sight of Bucky’s body over and over again.

“You’ll catch flies princess” he chuckled as she shut her mouth obediently, swallowing down the pool of saliva that had gathered there. His brain was working hard to kill the guilty thoughts still looming menacingly and she must’ve noticed too.

“You are gorgeous, amazing and you couldn’t—you wouldn’t ever hurt me, Buck. I know that and you do too” She kissed down his neck, fingers fiddling with the his pants, a smile blossoming on her mouth at the sound of his zipper purring.

He growled as she sucked a dark mark under his jaw, it would be easily visible to anyone including your father but he’d make up some silly excuse about needing to let off steam—only princess and he would know the truth and his cock twitched against her pussy in response.

As her thumbs hook into the material of his pants he grips onto her wrists, heavy wanton breaths fall from his mouth as he moved his head to rest on hers, his deep blue eyes boring into hers.

“You take them off princess and I won’t be able to hold myself back”

But she just smiles, pecking the tip of his nose before pulling the fabric down over his ass; her pussy aches at the sound of his hiss as the waistband of his dark briefs catches on to his aching tip. As soon as the material is at his ankles he snaps, his thick fingers gripping at her, pulling her closer to him until her bare chest rubbed against his deliciously.

“I’m gonna make a fucking mess of you princess, make you feel how bad I’ve been wanting you—you want that?” He groaned into her ear. His fingers dipped down to circle over her aching pearl, his teeth sinking into his lip at the soft keens and whines she let out—all for him.

“Mmhmm Buck I want it so bad, want you to make me your good girl…wanna be your best girl” she heaves as she reaches behind her, fingers securing themselves around his length and sliding it through her slick folds before resting his thick tip at her entrance.

“You’ll always be my best girl princess” he moans deeply in tandem with her breathy one as he sinks her onto his length. She’d never felt stretched like this in her life, the sting bringing more pleasure to her than she admits, her brain fogging as everything became overwhelmingly clear—she loved him, she loved Bucky so much.

“Aww fuck baby so fucking tight” Bucky was trying his best not to cum on the spot, his balls twitching as he held off on painting her hot cavern. He wanted this to be perfect and him coming after mere seconds of being inside her was not his idea of perfect.

He gripped onto her hips, rocking her softly until she began to bounce herself; she was so close, as she had been since he’d started spanking her.

“Fuck Buck so good” she whimpered, fingers gripping at his short locks as she moaned into his mouth, his tongue tasting each high-pitched whine greedily.

“Come when you want princess, need you to gush around my cock…then I’ll keep fucking you, yeah you’d like that-“ he laughed airly as her cunt clenched around him “god that pussy is fucking suffocating me, baby, gonna make you cum again and again then I’m gonna fucking fill you so much”

His words pushed her over that edge she’d been dangling on for so long. Her cunt fluttered as she moaned his name like a prayer, her hands pressing crescent-shaped dents into his built back.

“Ohhh fuck Buck” she sobbed into the crook of his neck. He shushed her softly, plump lips kissing over the shell of her ear, grounding her from her high. When she calmed, he rocked into her at a steady pace, his feet planted onto the floor as his hips bucked quickly into her.

“Come on princess one more for me—oh fuck—yesss god fucking pussy I can’t get enough ohh angel I’m going crazy” he snarled, flipping them suddenly without ever pulling out or even losing his pace, her loud moans mixing with his like music to his ears. He sucked on his thumb before thrumming it over her sensitive bud, his chest rumbling with a deep desperate groan as she clamped down on him again.

“Mmm fuck I’m gonna cum baby, you want my come baby? You want it inside that pretty princess pussy? Oh hurry baby come again oh shit I’m gonna come—oh fuck princess I love you” his eyes rolled into the back of his head as his cock spasmed with release, pushing squirt after squirt of his seed into her cunt. His warm nut hitting her cervix had her coming again.

“Oh, shit princess—hah—such a good fucking girl, the best” Bucky praised as he slipped his cock from her spent cunt, resisting the urge to push it right back in when his milky essence spilt erotically from her pretty little pussy. In his pleasured stupor he’d neglected to acknowledge those three little words that had fallen from his mouth, the ones he’d been trying so hard to hide ever since that first day, but it only festered as he spent days and nights with you.

Princess was on a completely different planet; her body was roaring with joy and fulfilment—Bucky has finally fucked her, and made her feel like the prettiest girl in the world with his words.

When she finally sailed back to planet Earth Bucky was just returning with a wet cloth, his cock bouncing between his legs as he walked over to the edge of the bed and sat to clean her off, god this man was so hot, and he loved her.

“You-“ she began, words catching in her throat at the first swipe of the cloth over her sensitive folds. He gazed up at her, blue eyes urging her to continue “You love me?” webs of fear, vulnerability and self-consciousness coated the words.

Bucky’s heart fell to his stomach, he’d hoped that she hadn’t heard him, not because he didn’t love her—fuck he really did—but he couldn’t, his job and her status prevented it, her father would have his head on a spike if he found out any of this.

But her wide eyes, her soft giggles in the morning when she’d make his coffee wrong on purpose, the time she’d found his helmet and just had to put it on and then the times she truly showed her vulnerability to him—fuck he loved her and he wasn’t going to lose her.

“Mhmm, love you so much Princess” he wanted to say more but it all died on his tongue, especially when she reached up, her hand cupping his face, her thumb running over the high point of his cheek before pulling him down to meet her mouth in a soft, tender kiss.

“I love you too”.

-

EEEE idk how I feel about this one tbh but I sure do hope you enjoy it. Are Bucky and Princess finally going to stop being little idiots and just date? Who knows because her daddy is ruthless

I have one more lil fic to post that’ll be set before this then I’m gonna take a break from Buck and Princess to focus on some juicy fics and ideas that are calling out for me

Likes, Reblogs and Asks are always appreciated ❤️

[deebris]

The Fractured Bonds

Nolan Grayson x daughter reader (platonic!)

Mark Grayson x sister reader (platonic!)

Synopsis: Mark finds himself facing an unexpected threat to his family when Angstrom Levy decides to hold his mother and sister hostage. Despite the family turmoil they've endured and Nolan's departure, he returns to rescue his daughter.

Warnings: Contains scenes of violence, emotional distress and it mentions that the reader was murdered in other realities. The reader is 5 years old. This is just an idea I had a long time ago and kept it stored. This scenario was inspired by Chapter 33 of the "Invincible" comics in portuguese.

Word count: 3.6k

As soon as Mark flew into the house through the window, his heart stopped when he saw you and his mother clinging to each other, as if your lives depended on that embrace. When Eve told him that Debbie had called, but the voice on the phone was a man's, he couldn't help but rush back to you two and imagine that something was wrong, and indeed it was.

At first, he ignored the hideous figure holding you both hostage, but made a point to glare at him with hatred now. His head was larger than that of an ordinary person and the shape of his brain was imprinted around the skull; moreover, the expression on the stranger's face was manic and as furious as Mark's, but there was a kind of excitement shining through.

"Who are you and what do you want?" Your brother's voice was deeper than usual; an attempt to sound more authoritative and intimidating.

"He wanted me to bring you here..." Debbie suddenly began to speak "I-I didn't know where you were. I remembered that Eve had called, I thought maybe she knew." Her voice was faltering, full of pauses between words due to nervousness. And it was while his mother was speaking that Mark noticed her bruised face, with a bleeding nose and purple patches on her arms as she held your small body as protected as possible.

You seemed to be in better physical condition than her, but your injured knee did not go unnoticed, as a thin trail of blood had formed around your calf. In an adult, the wound wouldn't have been a big deal, but your delicate skin stung with the cut, and he knew it hurt because of your sniffles. "I'm sorry, I didn't know what else to do. H-he hurt me, he was going to hurt my baby." She said the last part with regret, referring to you, while holding you closer and running her fingers through your hair.

"In fact, I think your son was talking to me." Interrupting his mother, finally that man had spoken, and his tone was cynical, too unconcerned for the taste of the furious Mark glaring at him. As if that weren't enough, he dared to touch Debbie's shoulder, acting as if he had every right to do so.

"Let them go now." Mark ordered him with dangerously calm voice, although the expression on his face was one of pure disgust.

"Not yet." He opened a diabolical smile as he began his ridiculous speech: "I've learned a lot about you, Mark Grayson. Many things. I know how violent you can get when you're angry, like now..." He paused dramatically, as if he needed to emphasize what he was about to say next, and it was only irritating Mark's impatient. "I know you got it from your father."

The scowl on Mark's face deepened as you tried to peek out from your mother's arms to try to understand what was going on, but she pulled you closer to her embrace. "Stay here with mommy, sweetheart."

Both she and your brother hadn't had the courage to tell you what had happened to Nolan; you were still too young, maybe you wouldn't even understand. They both spent the last few months avoiding mentioning your father at home, and when they did, it was in whispers so that you wouldn't start asking questions they wouldn't know how to answer. No child should know that their own father was a superhero killer, let alone that he had abandoned his own family out of sheer moral caprice.

"Did you know that your identity is public in almost forty percent of the realities where you exist, Mark?" The villain continued his taunts, wanting to get to some point. "That's almost half. And that means you're careless."

"Get to the point already." Mark asked, or rather demanded. If this continued, he was sure he would snap. This dialogue was irritating him, but as long as his mother and sister were witnessing everything, he would need to hold himself together until he found a way to get him away from here.

"You see this?" He pointed to himself, referring to his own appearance "I'm a freak... A deformed freak. So I guess it's understandable that you don't recognize me." Then he wrapped you and your mother around his arm in threat, and the grip was painful. "When you saw me before, when you did this to me, I looked much more normal!"

"Oh, god... You're that guy." Realization struck him, widening his eyes as he remembered the past.

"That guy? Is that all you remember of me? That I was that guy?" If that man's temperament was bad before, now it must have risen about twenty degrees with the lack of importance his sworn enemy had given him. "I'm Angstrom Levy! The next time you forget my name, it will be because you'll be dead!"

He was certainly furious, pouring out hatred and continuing to blame Mark for interrupting his inter-dimensional goals, blaming him for his current deformed appearance, repeating that he would always be a freak, even though he had sought out the best surgeons to reconstruct his shattered body.

"The greatest minds in a dozen realities couldn't find a way to fix my brain!" His hands clenched into heavy, tense fists, ready to crush something "And it's all because of you!"

After that, he exploded and everything happened too quickly for Debbie to stop him, and even if she were quick, she wouldn't have had the strength. In moments, you were ripped from your mother, who had taken a punch to the face. Levy held you and stretched one of your arms with the free hand. You hadn't acquired powers yet and were nothing but a child; you couldn't defend yourself alone.

Mark took a step forward, but Levy raised your arm in a strange position, ready to break it. You cried and sobbed desperately due to the intense pain. "Mommy, make him stop! Mark!" You pleaded as he twisted your arm, and irrationally shouted for your brother repeatedly, seeking someone who could come to your rescue.

"Let her go!" Mark was no longer the Invincible, even in his superhero costume. He was just a man trying to protect his family, and he felt so useless and powerless that it was agonizing. Without thinking, he lunged at the hideous villain in front of him, ready to confront him in physical combat at that very moment.

"That's right. I'm right here. Come get me!" And he did, but Mark was taken aback to find himself in a completely strange place. He was no longer in his home; Angstrom Levy had sent him through one of his portals to another dimension.

He watched in shock the weird jungle he found himself in, with mutant dinosaur-like creatures devouring the carcass of another beast as large as they were right beside him. The animals noticed Mark, and suddenly they... Spoke? He heard the beasts mention that it had been a long time since they had seen any Homo Sapiens, obsessed with devouring him. Apparently, he was in some apocalyptic dimension where humans had been extinct by these beasts. He could have ended these animals in seconds, but still couldn't help but feel fear, not for himself, but for you. How would he return to help you?

At home, Debbie had to plead with Levy to return you to her, and with some pity for your cries after he broke the arm, he returned you, allowing you to be comforted by your mother. But he kept you two close to him, with a firm grip on the older woman's shoulder, so he could use you against Mark at any moment.

"It's okay. It's going to be okay," she repeated comforting words as she wiped away your tears and rubbed your back gently. Debbie had seen and heard of many cruel villains thanks to her life as the wife of a "hero," but how insensitive would a human being need to be to break a 5-year-old's arm like this? Of course, she knew that even more horrendous things had happened to children in this world, but you were her daughter, and it hit her deeply.

Debbie felt you faint in her lap and panicked. She shouldn't have shaken you the way she did, but in the midst of desperation, the last thing she wanted was to see you silent, with your eyes closed. You passed out from the pain. It's normal, she's aware of that, but it was still terrifying. She was only taken out of her stupor when she heard his disgusting voice again:

"I can't believe you're going to lie to her like that." He drew attention to himself. "What kind of mother are you? How can you say that to her? You're not sure about that." Debbie ignored him, and he took it as a challenge. "I bet you're not even listening to me. Blocking me from your mind, aren't you?" He insisted. "Are you sure you don't want to talk? I could use your company."

He tried once more, but still received no response from the woman. Levy shifted his gaze from Debbie to carefully observe you. He knew the pain must be intense; he should have given up injuring you as soon as Mark passed through the portal, but he preferred to do it as a reminder. A warning for when his brother returned. If he returned. "Let's check on your son. Let's see how well Mark managed to survive this reality."

Extending his hands to summon a portal that glowed green, a figure in his yellow superhero uniform passed through the colorful circle.

"You were going to hurt my sister?" The boy shouted as soon as he saw he was back home, numb with a sense of vengeance.

"Not only was I going to, but I did." The statement made Mark's blood run cold.

"Mark?" Debbie called him desperately to show your state. She couldn't bear to see you suffer. Mark held his mother's gaze, interrupting only to finally notice you, who were motionless. Your arm was in such a unusual and swollen position. Your face, which was once red from crying, now had turned pale, and if it weren't for your shallow breathing, he would have thought you were dead.

"What have you done?" He asked furiously.

Levy made no move to respond, taking you from Debbie's arms once again. "No! Let go of my daughter!" She shouted angrily, completely abandoning her earlier fearful expression. She refused to allow that horrendous creature to take you away from her a second time. Debbie had felt how cold and clammy your skin was, and the more she looked at you, the paler your face became.

"Welcome back, Mark Grayson." Levy said after observing the hysterical scene of the woman beside him unfold with some indifference. "Your little sister here is really cute; I personally adore this chubby face of hers." Mark's throat tightened at the sight of you in the arms of that despicable man, scared with force, and seeing his broken mother in the corner of the bed only made his heart beat harder. "You know, I've encountered her in other realities." His tone was perverse, too cynical. "But unfortunately, those versions of her didn't get to advance much in age compared to this one. Isn't that interesting?"

"You bastard!" It didn't take much intelligence to understand what he meant, and it made Mark's nostrils flare with fury.

"That also makes me wonder what must have happened differently for her to survive longer in this dimension." Debbie moved from where she was on the bed and carefully reached for the bedside lampshade while Angstrom Levy was distracted, but a brief glance at her son made her abandon the idea. Mark discreetly shook his head negatively, implying that she shouldn't do that. "Or maybe I am the trigger for this event here," he pointed out with a smile.

"If you hurt her more, I swear-" Mark said with hatred and tense body, but he was interrupted.

"What? You'll kill me? Of course, you will." The villain stared at him seriously, with some skepticism. "Don't worry. However, her well-being really only depends on you. After all, it was you who let Anissa kill her once, and Conquest, and Thragg... Although the latter was more your father's fault," he stated matter-of-factly while scratching his chin.

He seemed like had finished speaking, but decided that the hero needed to hear more upon seeing the boy's shocked face at the mention of those peculiar names, yours assassins, curiously, all Viltrumites. Levy wasn't sure if Mark was already aware of these people, but what really mattered to him was to disturb the boy. "But it's you whom I want to hurt. I want to hurt you so, so much... Your little sister is very safe, as long as I determine that the only way to hurt you is by hurting her."

Then suddenly he lifted your unconscious body in his arms as he prepared to throw you into a portal. Debbie's heart was in combustion, beating faster than ever as she suppressed a scream. But your brother's temper finally snapped, completely determined to kill him once and for all.

Mark moved forward to stop him, but within seconds, the roof of the house was pierced and him felt something, or rather, someone push him away. He couldn't see much, but he followed his mother's pleas and embraced her, protecting her from the wreckage. His throat tightened at not seeing you, not knowing what was happening, but soon part of the dust began to settle.

Struggling a bit, the boy managed to see his father's back, apparently holding the man, who moments ago was about to send you away, in the air by the neck. He relaxed a little more when he saw traces of his hair resting on Nolan's broad shoulder, finally free from the dangerous clutches. Despite the disturbing events regarding his father, Mark knew he wouldn't let anyone harm you under his protection.

Levy felt himself losing breath, his brain throbbing from the blow he received from a piece of wood fallen from the ceiling. An intense pain hit him as Omni-Man began to bash his head repeatedly against the wall. His skull was now partly mashed into the concrete, and the red liquid that was his blood flowed to the ground.

"If my left fist weren't busy, I'd make you suffer much more," Nolan's thunderous and deep voice sounded intimidatingly throughout the room. "Despicable trash like you should keep your filthy hands to yourself."

Nolan struck one last time as he whispered in a chilling whisper the last words that man would hear before having his skull pushed against the wall slowly, until it crushed like gelatin: "I'll ensure that every version of you that dares to appear here on this Earth, or anywhere in this Universe, has a slow and painful death before laying a finger on my daughter again."

And as the Viltrumite increased the grip on Levy's neck and continued pressing his head against the wall, it seemed like his eyes were about to pop out. The skin that was once brown now split between purple and pink in some spots due to the continuous pressure while him was dying.

Observing the man coldly, Nolan withdrew his hand and took care not to stain you with the blood dripping from his fingers, portraying a much gentler grimace as he observed your sleeping figure. He always found it adorable to see how incredibly tiny you looked in his arms, It awakened an intense feeling of protection. But upon noticing that you were injured, his eyebrows furrowed, carefully examining your broken arm while wondering how Mark had let this happen.

"Father, what-" Mark broke free from his mother, finally finding words amidst the shock, but was interrupted.

"Your sister needs to go to the hospital." His voice was distant, almost emotionless, successfully masking the concern.

Debbie honestly wasn't ready to face the man she had been deceived by so soon, but she couldn't care less when the only thing she had wanted for hours was just to keep you safe and close to her. She avoided his eyes as she anxiously waited for an opportunity to have you back in her arms, and her ex-husband seemed to have noticed. As hesitant as he was, he walked over to her carefully, avoiding showing a more human side of himself to his family, but also not being hostile in his gestures. He surrendered to the act and pressed his lips to one of her temples before putting you in her arms.

"Take good care of her." He stared at his son with some severity. "I can't always be here, I'm entrusting her life to you, Mark."

The boy looked at him with some indignation, as if his father doubted that he would do everything to protect you, but he knew he had been too careless, as Angstrom Levy said he was. Even though he had the strength to defend his little sister, he still found himself vulnerable tonight, almost incapable.

"You don't need to ask for that." Mark was firm, and Nolan nodded satisfactorily. He thought about saying something more, even though he didn't understand why, the last thing he should want is to speak to his father again. Perhaps it was to unload the disgust he still felt, but the health of both of you was a more important matter to him now.

"Go away." Debbie's voice surprised them. She was obviously defeated, too tired for all this, but still found the energy to stand while holding you. "It was the necklace, wasn't it? Are you spying on us?"

Nolan's gaze was hard, trying to hide how his ex-wife's contempt affected him. The months of bitterness he spent in space had changed his demeanor a bit, but he thought it would be less painful for both of them not to hear his regret after all the harm he had caused. He didn't consider himself worthy of his family's pity, although now they considered him a stranger. He knew that Mark and Debbie still harbored a monstrous image of the person he was, and perhaps he really was.

"Aren't you going to admit it?" She asked him again with indignation, seeing that the man didn't make a single move to leave.

The object she referred to was a gift from both of them to you, or rather, from Nolan. He was the one who had the idea of ​​putting the necklace around your neck with the excuse of keeping you safe. He wanted to know where you were and who you were talking to, and the way he found to do that was by projecting this piece with the help of his planet's technology. "I hope every time you hear this little girl mention your name, you wriggle with remorse and agony, if you still have any kind of heart. You were better off away."

She still remembers when he told you: 'Whenever you want to talk to me, just hold your necklace close. That way I'll always be with you.' At the time, it was something so beautiful, something they hadn't thought of doing with Mark, but now it could be different. In your childish mind, it was as if it were magical and a piece of your father would really be with you all the time. But now it stirred disgust in her, she wanted to destroy it.

"Don't take it off, Debbie. Please." Nolan's imposing voice had become softer, almost frightened, and he had finally shown some kind of weakness after so long. "Please." He repeated the plea.

"Mom, maybe it's a good idea to let her keep wearing it. At least sometimes." Mark interfered not for his father, but thinking of you. If Nolan had been able to appear today to save you, he could come to your rescue more often, although the idea of ​​you being in danger again gave him chills.

Debbie hesitated, giving up tearing the necklace off your neck. Knowing that Nolan would be able to experience their day-to-day life bothered her, but she would deal with it later, remembering that you needed medical care. She was very hurt, but her own condition didn't matter to herself as long as she saw you awake and well again. "Mark. Hospital." she announced hurriedly ignoring the fourth person in the room and the bloody scene beside her.

Nolan sighed in relief for a moment, looking one last time at you and Mark, ashamed, but adopting the stone-cold expression he had previously. "Mark, don't let her take it off." He didn't want to sound like that, but the tone of his voice carried a threat. The boy cared little about giving him any kind of response, returning a grim expression to his father as he departed at a thunderous speed through the now-open roof, just as he had come, raising the dust once again.

"Let's go," Mark said gently to his mother, lifting her delicately since you were in her arms.

[drabbles-mc]

I'm Not Sorry

Bob Floyd x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, language, dry humping, semi-public hookup

Inspired by This Text Post: i should be riding some nerd's thigh while he gropes all over my body & tells me i'm the girl of his dreams

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: i've been struggling to finish fics lately but i saw that text post a couple days ago, knew i wanted to write about it for Bob, and then BAM this all fell outta me tonight. unbeta'd to the max but Bob Floyd deserves to fuck so time was of the essence 😌

Top Gun Maverick Taglist: @garbinge @proceduralpassion @justreblogginfics (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

If you wanted to be dramatic, you could say that you and Bob had been playing a very coy game of cat and mouse for months. It was a bit of an exaggeration, but not by much. A majority of the time that you spent with each other was work-related. It was usually work related, and there was almost always other people around. The closest the two of you got to having time alone was when all of you went out together and everyone else got distracted with pool or darts or each other. So while it might’ve been months according to the calendar, it wasn’t really quite that drastic.

Still, though, you tried to make the most out of the time that the two of you got to have.

It was easy, especially at first, to get a rise out of him, to get his cheeks to flush pink, to get him tripping over his words. A seemingly accidental touch, a well-timed innuendo or wink—that’s all it really took. You didn’t say anything about it but you noticed each time his gaze would break, eyes flickering down from yours to your mouth anytime your teeth dragged along your bottom lip. It never took much with him and for a while you just chalked it up to the fact that he was sweet and shy and a little awkward, that anyone flirting with him like that would get that reaction out of him. It wasn’t until you saw him perfectly unfazed at The Hard Deck one night when a girl at the bar was all but falling into his lap that you realized it wasn’t a Bob thing. It was a you thing. Once you realized that, it was all bets off.

There had been more than one occasion when thanks to your subtly wandering hands Bob nearly spat his drink out across the bar or dropped the bottle from his hand completely. You were able to keep a straight face and play it off, and every now and then Bob was able to recover with some grace, but there had been a time or two when he’d caught a few odd looks from the rest of the crew. It was easy enough to wave them off and they’d let it drop, but the second his focus was back on you, you could tell that he was working overtime to stay on the right side of self-control. All you could do was smile and try to carry on like nothing had happened.

Truthfully, it had gotten to a point where you had almost just resigned yourself to this being what it was going to be like with you and Bob. You were trying to accept that this limbo, this knowing that you wanted him and he wanted you but neither of you really found the time to do much of anything about it, was as good as it was going to get. A never-ending chase, a game with no winners.

“Alright,” you said as you hopped off your barstool, “I gotta head out.”

“Why?” Rooster asked, sounding as though he couldn’t fathom why anyone would want or need to be anywhere else on a Friday night.

You laughed as you dug your wallet out, taking out a few bills to close out your tab and then some. “Some of us have shit to do in the morning, Bradshaw.”

He laughed and gave you a mock disbelieving look. “I don’t think so.”

Raising your eyebrows, you turned your head to face him. “You wanna close out my tab, then? Sounds like you might wanna close out my tab.”

He threw his hands up in surrender. “Forget it—see you Monday.”

You laughed a little harder at that. “That’s what I thought.”

It didn’t seem like your departure disturbed the flow too much, everyone falling back into their previous conversations as you made your way to the bar to square up your tab. You didn’t even bother looking back as you made your way to the door of the bar. By the time your feet hit the blacktop of the parking lot, you were already fishing your keys out of your bag.

Once you were a few strides away from the bar and the clamor of noise coming from inside died down, all you heard was the sound of your own footsteps, and the ocean not too far off. It was peaceful until you heard someone else’s footsteps behind you. The sound alone wouldn’t usually have been strange. Someone else deciding to leave the bar at the same time as you wasn’t a weird occurrence. What made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, however, was the fact that the footsteps were getting quicker and closer. You felt your jaw clenching, positioning your keys between your fingers the way you’d always been taught. You were only a few steps away from your car now but you still found yourself taking a deep breath, getting ready to turn around and see whoever it was that was behind you. You were about to turn and brace for impact when you heard Bob’s voice calling out your name, a little breathless, and very rushed.

Turning around and seeing him, some of the tension disappeared. You huffed, shoulders dropping. “Jesus, Bob.”

There was an apologetic smile on his face as he realized what had just happened. “Sorry.”

Shaking your head, you slipped your keys so that you were holding them in your hand normally again. You managed to laugh at the potential worst case scenario versus the reality of the situation. “Another step without saying my name and I think we both would’ve been sorry.”

He stepped in a little closer to you as he nodded towards your car. “Just wanted to walk you to your car.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled as you turned and started the last few steps across the lot with him. “You know, walking me out to my car is much more chivalrous and much less creepy when you tell me you’re going to do it.”

There was a smirk on his face as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Guess I’ll have to remember that next time.”

Silence took over the space between you, and while it was comfortable enough, you couldn’t help but to feel like there was more to it, something in the air. Hitting the unlock button on your keys, the lights of your car flashed once. You looked at Bob, then at your car, and then back to Bob. “Well,” you chuckled, “thank you for the company on this long, treacherous journey.” You reached for the handle on the driver’s door. “Hope we can do it aga—”

Bob cut your sentence short when he placed one hand on top of yours on the door handle, keeping you from opening it. Before you could jump to another sentence and ask him what he was doing, his other hand was pressing against the small of your back and pulling you into him so that he could press his lips to yours in a kiss that was intense and nervous all at once.

It lasted just long enough for you to realize what was happening and how good it felt and then he pulled away. Going off the way his eyes were wider than you’d ever seen them, he was just as surprised at himself as you were. Despite the shock all over his face, he didn’t take his hand off your back, although the one that was covering yours on the door dropped back to his side.

“Sor—I’m sorry,” he finally forced out. “I’m…” he trailed off as he looked at you, tongue darting out over his bottom lip.

Another second passed in heavy silence, and when you didn’t try to break free of him, didn’t try to push him away, he let the rest of his sentence die on the tip of his tongue as he kissed you again. You could feel the way that he was more confident this time, the warmth of his palm bleeding through the thin fabric of your tank top as he pressed you against him.

You brought your hands up so that they were resting in the crook of where his neck met his shoulder. One slid up, thumb beneath his jaw as he deepened the kiss. It was all you could do to not ball up the cotton of his t-shirt in your fist, put it in a vice grip so that he couldn’t try to get away. However once you felt the way his tongue pushed into your mouth, and the way he used his body to pin you between him and the side of the car, it became clear that he wasn’t planning on going anywhere.

He had one hand still on your back, one hand braced against the side of your car. It was the first time it ever seemed like he was crowding you, like he was trying to make you seem small. You didn’t mind it. With the way he was kissing you, you were fairly certain you wouldn’t mind anything.

The next time the two of you came up for air, he didn’t pull far enough away for you to really see him. You were just far enough apart for your lips not to be touching, but you could still feel the side of his nose pressed against yours. You could still feel his breath against your skin. The two of you were pressed so tight against each other that you could’ve sworn you could feel the way his heart was about to beat clean out of his chest.

“Shit,” the word fell from his lips in a whisper, followed by an equally soft laugh. His lips brushed against yours as he spoke. “I’m…I’m not sorry.”

You laughed at that, couldn’t help yourself do to anything but. “Good.” Your hand slid from his jaw to the back of his head. “You shouldn’t be.” Kissing him again, you let your teeth pull lightly at his bottom lip as you pulled away. “Only thing you need to be sorry for is taking so long.”

He smiled and shook his head. If the lighting had been better you were sure that you would see a blush all across his cheeks and down his neck. You’d have to settle for the mental image of it. “Didn’t see you chasing me down across any parking lots for a kiss before this either,” he rebutted with a chuckle.

“Touché.”

The humor died down out of his voice as he said, “You know how long I’ve been wanting to do that?”

You nodded, noses brushing against each other. The bridge of his glasses bumped against your forehead for a split second in the process. “I’ve got a pretty good idea, yeah.”

Your bodies were pressed together so tightly that you felt it when he sucked in a quick breath. There were a million things that he wanted to say to you and he couldn’t make himself say any of them in that moment. He had his hand on your back and the taste of your kiss on his lips and yet none of the things he’d been thinking over the passing months were making it out.

The feeling of your fingers toying with the longer strands of his hair centered him enough for him to smile as he said, “At least you know that. I—oh—” He fumbled his way out of the sentence when he felt your lips on his neck.

“Bob?” you said, lips brushing against the column of his throat as you spoke.

“Y-yeah?” he stammered out, and you could feel the vibrations against your lips as he talked.

Taking one hand off of him, you reached and pulled on the handle to the back door of your car. You kissed him again, pushing both of you off the side of the car in the process. “Get in the car.”

He was far enough away that you could see the shocked look on his face. “What?”

You placed your hands on his sides, switching your positions so that he was closer to the car than you. “Car.” You kissed him. “Back seat.” Another kiss. “Now.”

“Now?” He looked around the parking lot. Full of cars but completely devoid of people. “Here?”

You laughed as you pushed him farther back, causing him to duck slightly as he went backwards into the car. “Preferably, yeah.”

“I don’t—whoa,” he fell back across your back seat, managing to brace himself on his forearms.

You shimmied in after him. Pulling the door shut behind you, you climbed on top of him, one leg between his, the other pinned between the outside of his leg and the back seat. It was close quarters, but you weren’t exactly looking to put any distance between the two of you.

Your hands landed on his shoulders, fingers curling over the curve of them as you leaned in and kissed him on the lips. Whatever reservations he’d had about your current location disappeared almost immediately once your lips caught his. His hands were on your hips for a moment. You could feel the way he tightened his grip even through the denim of your shorts. Your lips and his met over and over, each reconnection making him a little bolder.

He managed to get his thoughts together just enough to pry one hand from your hip so that he could reach up and take his glasses off. He all but tossed them up and onto the center console between the driver and passenger seats. You were smiling and about to make a comment about the action but you didn’t get the chance. He brought his hand back to you, starting off on the soft, exposed skin of your thigh. His touch was soft at first, but quickly started to change. His fingers dragged up your leg before slipping past the bottom hem of your shorts.

Your pleased gasp of surprise when you felt the pads of his fingertips over the lace of your panties was quickly smothered as he pulled your lips back to his again. His grip on your ass tightened, pushing you down harder onto his thigh and causing you to moan into his mouth.

For a split second you couldn’t believe it. All this time and Bob hadn’t been able to make a move, couldn’t believe that you wanted to fool around in the back seat of your car—that same man was now grinding you down against his thigh in a way that had you wet and clenching around nothing.

You broke the kiss to catch your breath, muttering out a quiet, needy, “Fuck,” as you continued to move along the top of his leg.

When you pulled back enough to see him, you saw the way that he was watching the movement of your hips. He didn’t take his eyes off of you, felt like he physically couldn’t tear himself away from the sight. His hold on you loosened as you found your own rhythm. A tiny whimper slipped past your lips, the sound involuntary as you savored the friction. The sound made his gaze snap back up to your face, and when he saw the want and desperation etched into your expression he thought that he was going to melt into a puddle right there on your back seat. What a way to go.

He pulled you back down into another kiss, your bodies flush practically from head to toe. Even as you continued to move against his thigh, you could feel the way he was shifting slightly, trying to get in the most comfortable position as he felt himself growing more and more aroused with each passing second. He didn’t let you pull away, though, didn’t let you put any distance between you. With you pinning his leg to the seat, Bob let his hands wander up underneath he fabric of your shirt. Suddenly it was like you felt his hands everywhere—your back, your sides, your chest. He slipped them down past the waistband of your shorts and underwear, fingers kneading the flesh of your ass in a way that with everything else had your legs starting to shake.

Bob could feel it, too. He could feel the increased sense of urgency in your movements, the way you were chasing after something and you almost had it. He was half-expecting to be woken up and find out that this was all just a dream. But not even his dreams had been this good, felt this good.

He dragged his lips off of yours, trailing them along your jaw instead. He left a string of sloppy, desperate kisses in his wake until his lips were beside your ear. One of his hands crept up your back, palm and fingertips scorching your skin in the best way.

“I meant it, you know,” his whisper came out lower than you’d ever heard, a tiny hint of a tremor to it, “when I said I’ve been wanting this—you.” He kissed below your ear, feeling the shaky breath you let out at that, at his words. “But even when I thought about it,” he kissed your jaw, “or dreamed about you,” he kissed your neck, “it wasn’t—shit—it wasn’t anything compared to this.”

Fighting the urge to bury yourself into the crook of his neck at his words, you pulled your head back. You cupped his jaw roughly in one hand and crashed your lips against his. His arms slithered around you and wrapped you tightly against him. He could still feel the slight shake in your legs.

“Bob—”

He stole another quick kiss. “I’d wait all over again for this.”

You could hear it in his voice how genuine he was being. You tried not to let yourself get distracted by his still-wandering hands, or his erection that you could still feel through his jeans. You tried to start your sentence again. “Bob, I—”

“Let me—”

“Come home with me,” you cut him off right back this time, deciding to just get to the point of what you were trying to say.

Confusion flashed across his face for a quick moment. “What?”

“Come back to my place.”

“I thought—”

“I wanna do this.” You sat up enough so that you could drag your fingertips down over his chest and stomach, even doing it over the fabric of his shirt had him starting to squirm with want. “But I’d rather do it somewhere where I don’t have to worry about smacking my head off the ceiling if I sit up all the way.”

The statement got both of you to laugh. “That’s fair.” He paused, a smirk on his face as he said, “Car was your idea, though.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m feeling a little impatient. Sue me.”

He pulled you into another kiss, one that every time you thought it was over he’d pull you back in all over again. As much as you wanted to get him back to your apartment and laid out on your bed, you also knew that you’d spend as much time as he wanted to doing exactly what you were doing right now. Anything to keep him this close now that you had him there.

When he released you from the kiss, he looked up at you with that same smile, that same slightly dazed look to in his eyes. Like he couldn’t believe this was happening. You couldn’t really believe it either. You couldn’t believe that any of it was happening at all, but you were also having a hard time wrapping your head around the fact that Bob Floyd, the same man who could barely make eye contact with you at the bar the first time you all went out together, was the same man who looked like he was about to try and strategize how to best make use of your back seat so he wouldn’t have to wait to get back to your apartment.

“I live less than ten minutes from here,” you said, already knowing what he was going to say.

His hands moved around to the front of you, fingers just barely curled over into the front of your waistband. You pretended not to notice the way he was toying with the button of your shorts. “Thought you had things to do tomorrow?”

You laughed, leaning in and kissing him. “I still do. Now they’re just,” you ran your hand lightly over the crotch of his jeans, enough pressure to get him to buck into you, “different things.” You giggled quietly at the purposeful breath he sucked in. Reaching over, you grabbed his glasses for him. “C’mon. You can ride shotgun.”

He propped himself up by his forearms again as you untangled yourself from him. “What if—”

You couldn’t help but to laugh as you stopped his sentence short. “Little late to get shy now.”

He smiled, face starting to turn red. “Right.”

The only thing that passed between the two of you were knowing looks and soft laughter as you scrambled out and into the front seats of the car. It wasn’t until you were pulling out of the parking lot and onto the road that you spoke up again, trying not to be too distracted by Bob’s hand creeping higher and higher up on your thigh.

“So,” you looked over at him for a second before returning your attention to the road, “you dreamt about me?”

His head dropped back against the headrest and you couldn’t help but to laugh at his faux exasperation. He gave your thigh a squeeze. You were expecting a joke, one of the witty little comebacks that he had a way of finding in the right moments, but instead he let himself be serious as he said, “Yeah, I did.”

The three words hung in the air between you, and you felt the butterflies that you’d been too busy to feel before in the heat and the rush of everything else. You could feel the way that Bob was looking at you while you looked at the road.

“How much longer?” he asked.

You laughed, sparing him a glance. “Six minutes, tops.”

He nodded, fingertips grazing up and down your thigh, goosebumps breaking out over your skin despite how warm your car was with its still-fogged-up windows. “Six minutes.”

[kiwriteswords]

I am devouring your Hotch and shy!reader fics! Would it be okay to request a blurb/fic about Hotch asking reader to call him Aaron for the first time?

Call out my name when I kiss you so gently [Aaron Hotchner x Shy!Fem!Reader]

Masterlist || Ao3||Word Count: 1k|| AN: I hope you enjoy! Thanks for sending this in xx!

Tags/Warnings: no use of y/n, hinting to intimate moments, shy reader

It was an unusually quiet evening when Aaron Hotchner decided to break the formality that had subtly lingered between you. Though the hours were dwindling into night, his mind was nowhere near the looming shadows of criminal profiles and cold cases that typically occupied his thoughts. Instead, Aaron was wholly fixated on the woman sitting across from him at his dining table, your shy smile lit by the soft glow of the candle between you both.

The night had already gone a bit backwards, with certain…indulgences happening before dinner, but here you both were, sitting across from on another at his dining room table. 

You had met him with that same gentle smile several times outside the tense walls of the BAU, on quiet dates that Aaron had arranged to be as normal as possible—a stark contrast to the grim realities of both of your day jobs. Tonight marked another milestone; just hours ago, you and Aaron had crossed a line that had previously only been hinted at with coy glances and hesitant touches. Now, after experiencing a closeness that neither words nor time could adequately encapsulate, Aaron found himself grappling with a new kind of urgency.

As you laughed softly, brushing a stray lock of your hair behind your ear—a nervous habit he’d come to recognize and adore—Aaron watched the way the candlelight danced in your eyes--framed by thick lashes that fluttered like the wings of a nervous bird whenever his gaze lingered too long. Despite the warmth of the room, you hugged your arms around yourself, the sleeves of your oversized sweater slipping slightly to reveal the delicate skin beneath.

Aaron cleared his throat, shifting his focus from the flickering candle to your eyes. “You know,” he started, his voice softer than usual, “I’ve been thinking…”

You tilted your head, curiosity painting your features as you met his gaze. “About?”

“About us,” he replied, folding his hands on the table. “And how different this—what we have—is from everything else in my life.”

You nodded, encouraging him to continue, though your fingers fiddled with the edge of your napkin, betraying your nerves.

Aaron took a deep breath, choosing his words with the precision of a man who spent his life weaving through verbal minefields. “When we’re here, like this, it’s not about the job or the cases… It’s about you and me. And when you call me ‘Hotch,’ it feels like we’re still there, back at the office, not here.”

You paused, the napkin now still in your hands. “I didn’t realize… I’m sorry, I just thought—”

“It’s okay,” Aaron interrupted gently with a reassuring smile, reaching across the table to cover your hand with his. “It’s what everyone calls me there, and it makes sense. But here, with you, I’m just Aaron. And I’d like it if you called me that, especially when it’s just us.”

Your cheeks colored, and you looked away briefly before meeting his gaze again. “Aaron,” you tested the name, and his heart skipped at the sound. It wasn’t just the name, but the way you said it—softly, intimately—that marked a departure from the ‘Hotch’ he was to the rest of the world.

He smiled, his usual stoic expression softening in the candlelight. “Thank you,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. 

There was a warmth in his chest, a lightness that Aaron seldom felt in the confines of his role at the BAU. Hearing his first name from your lips, not as a superior or as an abstract figure of authority, but as someone personal, someone separate from that life, grounded him in a reality he wanted more of. 

This was a world where he could be a man, not a unit chief, where he was defined not by his job but by these quieter, cherished moments.

The rest of the evening passed with a new, tender rhythm. Aaron listened intently as you shared stories of your childhood, your voice growing stronger with each memory. He noticed the way your body relaxed, the initial stiffness from your nerves dissolving into a comfortable ease around him. Every laugh, every candid confession, seemed to stitch a tighter bond between you, threading your lives together with each shared secret and smile.

Later, as you stood together in the quiet sanctuary of his living room, Aaron pulled you close, his hands resting on your waist. “I’m glad you’re here…with me,” he whispered, bending his head to catch your gaze. The proximity, the shared breaths, the way your eyes searched his—all of it felt profoundly right.

You smiled, your earlier shyness melting into a quiet confidence. “Me too, Aaron,” you replied, standing on your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his lips. It was a simple act, yet it held layers of meaning. Each time you said his name, it reinforced the intimacy they were building, a stark contrast to the formal barriers that usually surrounded him.

In that moment, as the distance of formalities and last names faded into the background, Aaron felt a profound sense of peace. Here, in the quiet intimacy of his home with you, he was just Aaron—and that was more than enough. 

He cherished the way his name sounded coming from you, not just as a term of endearment but as a symbol of the unique place he occupied in your life, distinct from everyone else’s perceptions. 

This Aaron was someone only you knew, and as the night deepened, he realized just how much he had longed for someone to know this part of him.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@frickin-bats

@sleepysongbirdsings

@justyourusualash

@person-005

[ganjas-shit]

Oh, You’re Breaking My Heart

Summary: You get to the bottom of Billy’s feelings but will it be too late?

Pairings: Billy x reader, slight Steve x reader (nothing too crazy)

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, sexual intercourse, cursing, abuse, blood, harsh language, Neil Hargrove, angst, mention of drugs, mental illness, panic attack.

Authors note: So, turns out I will be turning this into a series but STILL don’t know how long yet! I hope you guys enjoy I’ve been working on this all day. Message me or comment if you’d like to be apart of the tag list! Thank you for your support <3

Chapter Two: You’re gonna be okay.

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The morning air was crisp and refreshing, like sipping cool water. It felt invigorating against your skin, awakening your senses to the day ahead.

You took one more deep breath, enjoying the cool air in your lungs and closed the door behind you, locking it with your house key, and made your way towards the front of your house waiting for Steve’s arrival.

You close your eyes before slapping a hand over your forehead. “Shit,” you mutter under your breath, realizing you forgot to call him this morning. With his habit of sleeping in, you’d likely be late for the billionth time only this time you didn’t find it in you to care, the excitement from last nights events still lingered in your belly.

Billy showed a different side of himself, setting aside his usual arrogance and charm. This unexpected change only fueled your excitement, leaving you eager to learn more about him.

The sound of Billy and Max bickering snapped you out of your thoughts. Though you couldn’t discern their exact exchange, it was evident Billy had the upper hand as Max slammed the passenger door of his car. “Watch it, shitbird, or you’ll be walking to school!” Billy’s voice echoed with attitude and irritation. Neil’s sudden appearance brought a stern reminder for Billy to mind his words when speaking to his sister

As he was about to get into his car, your eyes met his ocean-blue ones, but they held anger towards you, making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. You immediately shook it off, offering him a wave and your bright, sweet smile. He maintained eye contact for a moment but disregarded your greeting, hopping into the driver’s seat of his blue Camaro.

You stood there, dumbfounded, watching him speed off, cringing at the loud sound of his departure. Did you do something? You thought to yourself.

You found the interaction between him and his father last night rather odd. His father’s presence was intimidating and uncomfortable, yet Billy left with a small smile directed towards you. It seemed like he was grateful for your conversation, so you couldn’t understand what could’ve happened.

Steve arrived momentarily, surprisingly on time, his burgundy bmw stopping right in front of you house. You climbed into the passenger side, a mixture of frustration and disappointment bubbling within you. With a heavy hand and a distracted mind, you slammed the passenger door of Steve’s car.

“Hey, easy!” He yelled, his tone irritated at your lack of consideration for his precious baby, bringing you back to the present moment. “Sorry,” you mumbled, shifting your belongings to the front of your legs and fastening your seatbelt.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve huffed. “Who pissed in your cereal this morning?” He glanced towards the driver’s window, checking for any incoming cars or pedestrians.

“Billy Hargrove,” you muttered grumpily, turning your gaze out the window as the trees and houses began to blur with the increasing speed of Steve’s car.

Steve looked over at you, his grip tightening on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white in the process. “Yeah, well, at least you’re not being benched today because of him,” Steve said, his tone tinged with anger at the fact that Billy clearly upset you and at the realization that he’s not starting or playing the opening game today.

You remained quiet still distracted by your thoughts.

“What happened?” Steve asked, glancing over towards you. You straightened up and began explaining what had occurred the night before.

You started to explain the night in vivid detail to Steve, although he wished you wouldn’t have because he already didn’t like the idea of you and Hargrove together, and hearing the details made him inwardly vomit.

The car came to a halt when you had arrived at school. Steve parked and took the key out of the ignition, taking a deep breath before speaking.

"Billy’s always kind of had a weird temper, y/n," Steve spoke carefully. He wasn’t being judgmental; he's just been a firsthand witness to it. "Him and I have roughed each other up a couple of times," he admitted.

Your eyes widened in disbelief. “You guys fought?! MORE THAN ONCE? ” You felt a surge of anger; Steve had lied to you. “So that one day after school, when you had a bruised eye, it wasn’t from bumping into a locker, it was from Billy?!” You mimicked Steve’s stupid voice, scolding him.

Steve rolled his eyes at your reaction, his head hitting the back of his headrest. It was the very reason he didn’t want to tell you, because he knew you’d freak out like this. “Can you let me finish?” he asked, a hint of exasperation in his voice.

You waved your hands at him, signaling for him to continue.

“It was after practice one day, Neil, his dad had come to watch our scrimmage game,” Steve spoke.

Steve never forgot that day. Neil Hargrove looked like the biggest dick of a father anyone could have, and the way he spoke to Billy that day confirmed it.

"Billy, stop being a fucking pussy and get on defense!" Neil screamed, as if he were the assistant coach or something. Steve knew Billy could play defense; hell, he was the one who taught him to plant his feet properly.

Steve had the ball, with Billy defending closely. As Steve dribbled, scanning for an opening, he noticed Billy's distant and uneasy expression; it wasn’t filled with arrogance and a cocky smile like it usually was. "Hey man, you alright?" Steve asked, still dribbling. Billy's response was a glare of rage, yet he seized the opportunity. With a swift move, he snatched the ball from Steve's hand, pushing past him, sending Steve on his ass. Smoothly dribbling past him, Billy scored.

When Billy scored, he yelled and smiled as he usually did, then looked to the sidelines where his father stood, seeking some sort of approval or applause from him. However, he received nothing. Neil walked out, acknowledging nothing and Billy’s smile faltered immediately.

Coach Williams called an end to practice, and everyone left for the locker rooms to shower. Steve stayed for a couple more minutes to stretch his legs. As he walked out, he heard some yelling. Curious, he peeked over the wall to his right and saw Neil and Billy. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but he did see Neil push Billy into the wall. Although he wasn’t close enough to hear the exchange, Billy looked frightened, and Neil appeared angry at God knows what. Steve witnessed Neil slap Billy once in the face, causing even him to flinch. With that, Neil left, leaving Billy there. Billy’s head hung low as he looked at his shoes and wiped his eyes.

Steve didn’t know what to do but he did what felt right. Again he asked like a broken record. “You alright?”

Billy flinched at the sound of Steve’s voice. “What did you see?” Billy spat with rage. Steve was confused and even hurt by his response. He was just asking if he was okay? Jesus Christ, was this kid always angry and defensive? Steve thought.

Steve decided Billy was a lost cause. He rolled his eyes, turned his back on him, and decided to just leave.

"Are you deaf?" Billy spat, his voice filled with anger, as he followed behind Steve and forcefully pushed his back, causing Steve to stumble and fall once again.

Steve's empathy ran out, replaced by anger. He got up and pushed Billy back. "Looks like you got some fire in you after all, Harrington!" he laughed manically. Steve noticed Billy's bloody nose, but it wasn't from him; it was from Neil.

Billy then charged at Steve, landing a punch on the right side of his face, and Steve retaliated almost instantly. They grappled and exchanged blows for a couple of minutes until Tommy H. and another teammate intervened to break up the fight.

You let out a deep sigh as Steve finished speaking.

Your heart broke for Billy; his father was a despicable, abusive piece of shit. You felt like an idiot for not seeing it earlier, but it still didn’t justify him taking it out on you. Did his father say something about you? You glanced sympathetically at Steve, who had tried to help and ended up with a blow to his right eye. Billy had no right, and while you don't excuse his behavior, you can't help but empathize with him.

"Just be careful with him, y/n," Steve said, his tone filled with concern. "He’s erratic and unpredictable," he added, his worry still evident.

Billy wasn’t a monster; you knew that. You also knew you could handle yourself; you didn’t need protection. After all, you had experience in this department; you dealt with a verbally abusive mother once upon a time.

You smiled at Steve. “I can handle myself. If I can handle the demogorgon, demo bats, and Vecna, I can handle Billy Hargrove,” you said, grabbing his hand that was resting on the center console and squeezing it gently. “Now let’s get to first period before clickety-clackety marks us late.” You finished letting go and opening the passenger door.

Steve did the same. “You know I hate when you and Robin call her that,” he said, now closing and locking his car. “It sounds nerdy,” he explained, speeding up to walk next to you.

Steve grabbed his hand attempting to calm the tingle he felt it in after your touch.

"Too bad," you said, playfully sticking out your tongue as you headed to class, earning you a classic Harrington eye roll. “Wait, how is that nerdy?” You chimed in again, sparking a lively banter between the two of you that continued until you reached class.

.

You got through your classes today only to be bombarded with more work.

The day you’d been dreading all week: the opening game of the season for Hawkins High.

You only ever enjoyed it when Steve played, but with him not playing tonight, the day seemed even worse. However, I suppose you could try to look on the bright side because it was Billy’s debut.

You walked around the gym, proud of yours and Billy’s work; the banners looked great. You double-checked that everyone was in their rightful place. Cheerleaders? Check. Band? Check. Student council? Check. Eddie Munson? Wait, Eddie Munson? At the Hawkins High opening game? No, it couldn’t be.

Eddie strode your way, wearing his infamous hellfire tee, paired with black ripped jeans and a silver chain that hung at the loops of them.

"What the hell are you doing here?" You questioned, smiling, genuinely surprised to see Eddie Munson at the opening game.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m thinking about convincing coach Williams to let me join the basketball team,” Eddie said, mimicking shooting a basketball poorly. “Gotta work on my basketball moves,” he added, moving on to mimic dribbling, which was downright horrid.

“Clearly,” you said, laughing at his terrible performance. “Your form is so off, and you look like you have no rhythm,” you added with a chuckle.

“Oh, I have rhythm. But it’s all in the fingers, baby… And trust me, the ladies love it… both ways,” he said with a smirk, punctuating his words with a wink.

You roll your eyes. “Smooth, Casanova.”

“Why are you really here? Is it Chrissy?” you say, raising your eyebrows up and down in a suggestive manner. “Or oh no, wait a minute, are you swooning over Billy Hargrove too?” you tease.

He scoffed slightly, his cheeks flushing at the mention of Chrissy’s name.

“No, but if you must know, O’Donnell said if I checked in with her after the game tonight, she’ll give me extra credit,” he explained, wiggling his eyebrows. You couldn’t help but laugh at how much of a dork he was.

But as you conversed, you couldn't help but notice the glares directed your way, especially from Carol and her friends, who were whispering about the two of you. Admitting it was difficult, but you found yourself affected by the things people said. It stung deeply; the cruelty of others weighed heavily on you, especially considering your own past involvement in similar behavior, which made you feel like you deserved the treatment you were receiving.

You shook off the thoughts that invaded your mind and refocused your attention back to Eddie.

“Wanna sit together? I have good seats in the student council section,” you said cheesing, reaching out to poke his stomach.

"Wow, Eddie Munson getting invited to the VIP section at his first Hawkins high basketball game? Count me in," he said, falling into step behind you as you headed towards the student section.

“You are such a dork.”

You and Eddie made your way to your seats, exchanging greetings with Robin as you passed by. Shortly after, the band started playing, and the basketball team began to roll in.

The team then huddled up and Coach Williams sent in the starting lineup, you felt the anticipation building. The game was about to begin.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from Billy. Ever since Steve gave you a little insight into who he was, he had been on your mind all day. Despite your best efforts, he didn’t turn his head once to look at you in class today, You had hoped to catch him after class, but that ditz Tina beat you to it. Seeing him all over her made you physically sick. It was nothing new, but today it stung a little more.

.

Billy’s facade of arrogance and confidence was beginning to crack.

He wasn’t prepared for this game, his mind consumed by the events of the previous night. His father had never offered him approval, kindness, or any form of support. But he did for you, which only fueled his bitterness toward you. Billy had dedicated himself to sports, hoping to earn his father’s affection and love. And the only commendation his father ever uttered was about you, summed up in just two words.

“Nice girl.”

Billy came to the conclusion that that’s why his father made those comments about you, realizing that Neil was drawn to submissive, weak, and timid women. It gave him a sense of control, a power trip that he relished, and it was the only valid reason.

But, he knew you weren't weak; you stood up for yourself, you were resilient, but it unsettled him. Since the age of 13, Billy had been consumed by anger after his mother left. She abandoned him, leaving him with a void. In you, he found a sense of safety similar to what he felt with his mother. He was unexplainably drawn towards you. Yet, the thought of attaching himself to you terrified him, fearing you might leave just like his mother did.

The thought of his father wanting you for him unsettled him deeply and fueled his desire to rebel. His mind was a war zone; he was caught between conflicting feelings that were tearing him apart.

He couldn’t help but think that Neil wanted him to follow in his footsteps.

Tommy nudged his shoulder snapping him back to reality, “Hey? You ready to kick some ass Hargrove,” Tommy asked excitedly.

Billy nodded, mustering up everything within him to get his mind straight, but then he saw you in the crowd next to Eddie Munson.

His heart ached a little, he felt guilty about this morning, and he started to feel jealousy course through his veins as he watched you laugh with the mop-headed boy. He kept his eyes on you for so long that he completely missed the sound of the whistle going off.

Shit.

The opposing team took had the ball in play and Billy’s mistake was seen by the entire school resulting in the opposing team making their first point.

The crowd was visibly upset with their screams and yelling and this made Billy’s adrenaline increase and his heart rate was speeding up drastically. His father wasn’t present, dinner with his coworkers was much important than his sons first game but why was he hearing him in the crowd?

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING BILLY? WAKE THE FUCK UP.”

“YOU ARE WEAK JUST LIKE YOUR MOTHER, SHE LEFT ME WITH A GOOD FOR NOTHING SON.”

“Pussy. Get up pussy.”

“Nice girl.”

His father's words echoed in his mind, panic rising. In the midst of the play, he signaled the refs with his right hand while clutching his tightening chest with his left, the crowd's screams growing louder.

“TIMEOUT. TIMEOUT.” Coach Williams screamed and the game came to a halt. The crowds screams turned into whispers and murmurs.

“Billy what’s gotten into you boy?” Coach Williams asked, “Can you do this or do I need to pull you out?”

“I need a minute.” Billy said gripping the chest of his uniform, making his way towards the nearest exit.

“HARRINGTON GET YOUR ASS UP YOU’RE IN,”

.

Billy held his gaze on yours, and yours remained locked with his. You both were so lost in each other’s eyes that the sound of the ref’s whistle made you jump. You cringed as Billy messed up, not because you cared about basketball, but because you knew how harsh the crowd could be.

Eddie looked from Billy to you, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

“Okay, what was that? ” Eddie spoke up, curious about the exchange of longing between you and the jock.

You sighed deeply.

“Eddie, I have a question,” you stated, your voice catching slightly. "Can I ask you about your dad?" you asked carefully, not wanting to upset Eddie or stir up painful memories.

“My dad?” Eddie questioned clearing his throat, confused at the sudden subject change, “Um yeah go head shoot,” he said as he crossed one arm over another. You looked over at Billy which didn’t go unnoticed by Eddie.

“After you got away from your dad, what was your personality like? Was it hard to trust people, let them in?” You asked refocusing your gaze to him.

Eddie briefly mentioned his dad while we were in the midst of hot-wiring his neighbor's RV a couple of months ago. And when you guys were gearing up for the upside-down, you had downtime leading to a deep talk about your parents, getting to know how bad Eddie had it growing up with his father. He was a schizophrenic, dope fiend, off his meds, obviously. His mother died of alcohol poising when he was about 7 years old, and he knew his father to be an addict his entire life, always in and out of jail, erratic, delusional, always up to trouble. His father didn’t take Eddie’s mother's death well; his mental state started to deteriorate, the drugs clashing with his illness more and more, and he started blaming Eddie for his mother's death, beginning to put his hands on him. Cigarette burns, bruises, black eyes—you name it, he had it.

CPS got involved, and his father was thrown into a psychiatric home. Eddie was alone, abused, for eight years until his uncle Wayne took him in at 15.

“Oh yeah, definitely. It took me a while to trust anyone,” he said with a dark chuckle. “My uncle Wayne was a patient man. I was rebellious, and I started to follow in my old man’s footsteps. It scared the shit out of me because I was hurting my uncle Wayne, but it was all I knew.” Eddie said, “My uncle Wayne taught me what love was, what it meant to be a true father. If I didn’t have that or some type of good in my life, I would’ve been screwed,” he reflected eternally grateful his uncle saved him.

You pulled Eddie in for a hug, grateful that he had shared with you, and he returned the gesture. After letting go, you took a deep breath, feeling a sense of clarity as you connected the dots.

“Billy’s in the same boat,” you admitted, “but he’s not letting me in,”

Eddie let out a sigh, looking at you sympathetically.

“You’re still a kid, y/n, and you’re not responsible for him. It took my uncle Wayne a while to snap me out of it. It wasn’t easy,” he said, looking over at you with genuine concern.

“Eddie, I’m far from a kid. I practically raised myself since my mom left. You’re forgetting who you’re talking to,” you said, slightly irritated at his reaction. Eddie regretted his choice of words, but he still meant them. You weren’t responsible. “He needs people like us around him. He’s not a bad person; he just doesn’t know any better, just like you at one point.” You said, your words making Eddie feel sympathy for Billy Hargrove.

.

The ref’s whistle blew, signaling the game was about to begin once again, and to everyone’s surprise, Steve was in?

“Holy shit! Yeah, Steve!” You exclaimed, leaping up from your seat in excitement. “Look, Eddie, Steve’s in!” With a playful slap on his chest, you urged Eddie to stand and join in applauding Steve’s entrance onto the court.

Eddie rolled his eyes and threw Steve a thumbs up filled with fake enthusiasm. You slapped his chest again, but this time it wasn’t playful; it actually hurt.

As the game commenced, you glanced over to the bench, Billy nowhere to be found. Concern gnawed at you, but you opted to give him his space, especially since he made it clear he didn’t want to be near you. You also needed time; you wanted to talk to him, but you didn't know how to go about it.

"I don’t understand the love for this stupid game. Don’t people know about D&D?" Eddie scoffed, rolling his eyes, feeling ashamed he was even here.

“Oh, people know about it alright,” you said sarcastically, leaning in to whisper in his ear, “devil worshipper.”

Eddie dramatically gasped. "Take it back now or I’ll scream," he threatened, his voice filled with mock horror.

.

The night was an absolute blast. Steve's buzzer-beater brought the crowd to their feet, while Eddie's extra credit points from O’Donnell raised his grade to a D+. Principal Higgins even praised your role in the evening's success.

Steve confidently informed you about Billy’s failures, claiming he caught a bug that prevented him from continuing to play today. However, this seemed odd to you, considering he appeared perfectly fine this morning.

Billy was obviously lying.

You congratulated Steve as you bid him farewell, somewhat pleased to see King Steve back in action. Not wanting him to miss out on tonight's fun, you asked Eddie to give you a ride home.

The ride was nice and quiet which was much needed after todays events.

He dropped you off at home, and you made your way to your door. You jangled your keys until you found the right one and stuck it through the keyhole.

You found your way inside and you were welcomed to an empty house yet again, the same note still stuck to the fridge.

You went to your room and started to tidy it up until you heard the sound of Billy’s car pulling up, music blasting from it. He drove like such a maniac, he reminded you of Eddie.

You took a peek out your window and saw that he wasn’t alone.

Oh?

Tina was with him, and they were making out like fucking animals. This angered you beyond words. Did he have no consideration for his neighbors?

You opened your curtains aggressively, then your window which made a loud noise when it hit the top. You didn't know what came over you, but you couldn't care less.

"Hey! You two, mind shutting the fuck up?!" You yelled with all your might from your window, pulling Billy and ditzy Tina away from their heated make-out session.

"You mind fucking off?!" Billy yelled back. Your laughed bitterly which was then accompanied by a defiant middle finger thrown his way, to which he replied the same. With a frustrated sigh, you shut your window and cranked up the volume on your Walkman, drowning out the rowdiness from outside.

.

Your interruption infuriated him, rudely disrupting his moment with Tina and making things much more difficult between them.

“Billy maybe we should go somewhere else?” Tina purred, “Maybe lovers lake?” She implied, shoving her tits in his face.

"Nah, here will do. I can’t wait, doll," he said roughly, ripping the bra off her chest along with her panties. Billy’s dick was rock hard, it angered him so much, because all he could think about was you.

Tina lay sprawled out in his backseat, completely nude, and he couldn’t help but think about you, right next door, likely to hear every bit of it.

He lined his dick up at her entrance and hissed at the feeling. He closed his eyes and began to thrust mind falling back to you.

The way your nipples poked through your shirt that night, your perky tits filling his mind with so much imagination. Your flushed face and the way you clenched your thighs when he spoke to you, oh doll you don’t know what you’re missing. He was sure you hadn’t been touched properly with the way your body responded to him, hell, you probably hadn’t been touched at all.

Fuck, he thought, as he thrusted harder into the poor girl. If only she knew who he was imagining instead of her.

Her moans filled the car, echoing through the entire block. Billy was in for a treat tonight with his father.

"Oh god, Billy, right there, yes, yes!" She exclaimed with pleasure. Billy drowned out the sound of her voice and replaced it with the way you screamed at him a couple of minutes ago, you turned him on so much, especially when you were jealous.

Anger quickly consumed him again as he started to think about everything that took place yesterday, today’s game, and you. God, you were infuriating. You invaded his brain like some parasite, and he couldn’t decide whether it was a butterfly larvae destined to flutter around inside of him or a brain-eating parasitic worm who would gnaw at him for a eternity.

He fucked Tina harder, and harder feeling her clench beautifully around his cock. Sweat glistened on his forehead and his tan chest, the feeling quickly filling his body with pleasure, his movements starting to slow.

Unable to contain himself any longer, his groans grew louder.

“Ah, shit, fuck y/n,” he said with his eyes closed, tilting his head back cumming hard into the condom. As his high came down, he mentally scolded himself and closed his eyes once again, but this time in irritation.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Tina screamed, pushing him off of her, “You’re fucking that freak?!” She yelled dramatically.

Billy rolled his eyes.

"Need a ride home, or are you walking?" Billy asked, his tone nonchalant as he completely disregarded her reaction, casually pulling up his pants and getting dressed.

Tina rolled her eyes back at him. “You’re fucking unbelievable, Hargrove. Take me home,” she huffed, quickly redressing herself.

Billy smiled, hopping into the front seat, and drove off.

.

Once he was done with that, he drove back home, preparing himself for what was about to happen.

"Left eye? Right eye? Nah, too noticeable. People will start asking questions. The stomach? Yeah, that's more of Neil's style," he laughed bitterly, talking to himself.

This is what he wanted. He didn’t care anymore. He always managed to piss his father off somehow, and it would never be on purpose. This was him taking his power back. He’ll give him something to be upset about, he thought, determination coursing through him.

Stepping out of the car, Billy was enveloped by the quietness of the night.

He walked up the steps of his porch and took a deep breath before opening the door. As he entered, there was Neil, seated on the couch as if he were some kind of king. Billy closed the door behind him, locking it securely.

The silence stretched on for a few tense seconds, with nobody daring to break it. Neil waited for an immediate apology, hoping to see Billy cower in fear, but as the apology failed to come forth, Neil's anger only grew more intense.

"You know, with the amount of times I've beaten you, you would think that respect is drilled into that thick fucking brain of yours," Neil spoke up, his voice laced with venom and rage.

Billy stood there unfazed by his father’s words, bored even.

"Don’t you get tired, Dad? Tired of being a shitty fucking father?" Billy spat, laughing bitterly. Neil's eyes widened, and he stood up. "When you act like a shitty parent, this is what you get—a shitty son," Billy finished, his words dripping with resentment and defiance.

Billy’s heart pumped vigorously.

“I pity you. You’re a coward,” he spat out with contempt.

Neil charged at Billy, causing him to fall onto his back, and started throwing punch after punch at his face. “Who do you think you are, huh?!” Neil stopped to grab the collar of Billy’s shirt, bringing his face up to his.

"Your son," Billy spoke, his voice wobbly, blood coming out of his nose, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. He was deeply saddened by the poor excuse of a father he had.

Neil laughed dryly. “God, you’re a spitting image of her. You’re just like her too, pathetic,” he spat. “And I’m a coward? Are you forgetting that she abandoned you? She left you with me. What does that say about her?”

Billy now fueled with rage pushed Neil off of him and punched him dead in the face. All hell broke loose after that, with both men fighting seemingly to the death. Billy ended up on his back again, and this time Neil didn’t stop. Billy's vision started to blur, and the last thing he heard was Max and Susan's frantic voices as they attempted to pull Neil off of him.

.

You were drifting into a deep sleep until a loud banging on your door jolted you awake. Your eyes widened, and you got up immediately, the sound of your Walkman still playing in the background.

You ran towards the door as if it were instinct, and there stood Max. She was sobbing, tears staining her red cheeks.

“Max, what’s going on? Is he back?” you asked, reminded of what still lies beneath this town. Max shook her head vigorously.

“No, it’s Billy. Please, y/n, you need to help me and my mom get him into his car. Neil just beat the shit out of him and took off. We need to take him to the hospital!” She cried.

Without hesitation, you grabbed her hand and ran to the house next door. As you entered, you saw broken frames, beach shell decorations scattered everywhere, and broken glass littering the floor.

And there was Billy, his face bruised and gushing with blood. You wanted to sob instantly. The beautiful boy, with the most mesmerizing smile, lay unconscious on the floor, broken.

“I’ll take his arms, you two grab his legs. We need to move fast,” you said, suppressing every ounce of emotion and acting on pure instinct.

You all carefully descended down the steps, giving it everything you got, Billy wasn’t exactly light but you pushed with everything in you to get him into the back of that car. You fell into the back seat with him his head falling in your chest and Susan hopped in the drivers seat and max in the passenger seat.

You search Billy’s pockets and grab his keys, tossing them to Susan.

"Step on it, let's go! We have to hurry!" you said, your voice remaining calm but urging Susan to make haste.

Susan backed out of the driveway and stepped on the gas pedal of Billy’s car hauling ass to get to the nearest hospital.

You checked his pulse and confirming it’s still present, you notice his breathing is a bit light, sparking an overwhelming amount of anxiety within you.

You whisper softly in his ear, “You're going to be okay,” feeling tears welling up, but you quickly wipe them away, pushing your emotions down once more.

"Hey Susan, take a right here and pull into that spot," you instruct, recognizing the familiar surroundings.

You’d been here one too many times.

We pull right up to the emergency room entrance. Max rushes out, calling frantically for help. Two male nurses immediately respond, rushing out with a stretcher and opening the back seat of Billy’s car. You help him sit up slowly, and they swiftly pull him around with urgency, their movements slightly rough in their haste.

"Hey, watch it! Be careful with him!" you yell at the nurses, frustration and concern evident in your voice.

"Ma'am, please let us do our job," they respond firmly, their tone professional but reassuring.

We all hurriedly follow behind the nurses as they wheel Billy into the emergency room. A doctor approaches Susan, hoping for some insight into what happened so he can provide the best care possible. Susan tells him everything, providing as much detail as she can to assist in Billy's treatment.

"Please wait in the waiting room. We'll call you once we've assessed him and he's stable," the doctor says sympathetically, reassuring you as you reluctantly make your way to the waiting area.

You, Susan, and Max waited anxiously. Max buried her face into the crook of your neck, unable to contain her sobs. You brushed her hair gently, trying to offer comfort, but you were struggling to hold yourself together as well.

Being there brought back uneasy memories, and the uncertainty of Billy's condition only deepened your depression.

Over 25 minutes had passed, each second feeling like an eternity in the tense waiting room until,

"Miss Hargrove, miss Hargrove?" called a nurse, breaking the tense atmosphere. But as the nurse approached, her expression unreadable, a chill ran down your spine, leaving you to wonder what news she was about to deliver about Billy's condition.———————————————————————————

Taglist: @jennapancake @writethrough @callsignwidow @strlightfilms

Tags:

[moonlightsolo]

the eastern sea.

summary: fleeing the omatikaya clan means you’re leaving everything you’ve ever known behind. the native reef people of awa’atlu are not very open-minded with your kind- but with neteyam by your side everything will be perfectly fine… right?

pairing: neteyam sully x fem!na’vi/human reader

warnings: spoilers for atwow, metkayina being kinda rac!st (im sorry they’re mean), smooching, angst, nete fighting ao’nung n his goblins for you 😩

note: if none of y’all leave feedback n just simply leave a like i will block u (not really) but give me some attention to feed my ego!!!!!!!

part one | part two | part four | part five

your heart aches. 

it mourns for the life you’re leaving behind; the only one you’ve ever known. the forest, the people of omatikaya, and of course… your home. 

you watch the ceremony in tears with your fingers intertwined tightly with neteyam’s. his grip grows stronger as the time goes by from attempting to control his emotions. 

jake sully has surrendered his leadership as olo’eyktan. the position is to be taken over by another na’vi named tarsem. 

you can’t help but glance up at the sully boy, his round eyes watery but with no threat to spill out onto his cheeks. he’s trying to stay strong for his family, and for you.

your heart hurts for him, knowing that should have been him. neteyam was next in line after toruk makto and that opportunity was stripped away right in front of him. 

jake leads his family down the steps of the tree of souls, ears pointed downward in defeat as the people, your family, cry out from everybody’s departure. some reach out to touch the shoulders of your group as you walk by, a sign of farewell. 

you can’t help but stifle sobs into your free hand, unable to hold back your tears as you walk through the gathering of na’vi. 

neteyam leads you through the crowd, his thumb rubbing circles into the top of your hand as he nods softly as to say goodbye to a few people. 

the boy helps you climb onto the back of his ikran, now almost eye level with you. he pauses for a moment to look into your eyes, a smile barely grazing his lips before situating himself in front of you. 

you take one last look at the clan, the ones who accepted you for who you are. not knowing if this will be the last time you will see them, and to feel the forest around you. 

jake chirps out a rallying yelp, echoed by neytiri, kiri, lo’ak, and neteyam; all signaling they’re ready to depart.  

jake is the first to take off, his ikran gaining speed as it rises in the air. next is neytiri and tuk, followed by kiri on her own ikran, lo’ak on his, and finally, you and neteyam. 

your arms tighten around his slender waist, digging your cheek into the warmth of his back. you stare down at the clan that grows smaller as you ascend higher into the sky. 

eventually you break free from the forests embrace, flying off the coast over the rough ocean. you take the time to admire the entirety of it; the massive trees that usually tower into the sky above you, look so small from up here.. the magnificent flora and animals that live amongst the grass, like the mountain banshees that scatter the wind, making you wish that you had enough time to rastle your own. 

your grip tightens around neteyam, a soft sniffle sounding from your nose. one of his hands release from the reins of his ikran to hold your forearm, his thumb gently rubbing your skin in attempt to comfort you. it takes everything to break your gaze from the forest, taking the easy way out by nuzzling into his back. 

the warmth emitting his body and the soft sea breeze slowly lulls you to sleep, your grip never falters from around his waist but a nap ensues. 

a crack of lightning startles you awake, sending you into a panic. 

how much time has gone by? 

you’re drenched from the rain, but somehow covered in neteyams shawl. a gust of wind catches under the ikrans wing, sending you both in a zig zag pattern in the air. your arms squeeze his waist tightly, almost worrying that you’ll crush him under your vice-like grip. 

the water droplets catch on your lashes, making your eyes squint as the harsh rain hits your bodies at an angle. the dark sky flashes with lightning, loud booming thunder vibrates everything around you. 

as neteyam rounds a large rock, a wave crashes against the stone sending the water upwards into the sky. the sea mist cascades over your body, making you gasp in shock as the salty water splashes over your bodies. 

the six of you power through the storm, the sunrise creeping through the darkened clouds slowly replaces the rain. your head feels too heavy on your shoulders, as if it’ll topple off into the depths of the sea below you. 

you sleepily blink as you come to, the warmth of the sun lays upon your back like a warm hug. “we’re almost there.” neteyam glances behind his shoulder to look down at you. the boy looks equally, or even more, as sleepy as you. 

you lean over the ikran, gasping at the crystal clear cerulean water. you revel at the sight of the colorful reefs and sea animals beneath the surface, hoping you’ll get the opportunity to swim alongside them. 

your eyes catch an island in the distance, a tall grassy mountain sitting by itself in the water surrounded by rocky formations. 

there it is… awa’atlu. 

“it’s so beautiful.” you breathe out with a wide grin, eyes taking in the new environment. 

you unravel from your embrace around him, leaning backwards with your arms out in the wind like a bird. the feeling of the warm wind flow across your body is freeing, as if you’re soaring through the sky like an ikran.  

neteyam can’t help but smile at you and your excitement, but inside, his heart is uneasy. he doesn’t know if the metkayina will welcome his family into their clan, even after this strenuous journey they’ve endured. 

on the outskirts of the island, the ikrans sail over a seabank filled with natural pools. the sea people amongst the grounds holler and yip at the presence of flying banshees breaching their perimeter. 

as you grow closer, you realize that there are thick mangrove trees that cover the entire coast, shading it from the strength of the sun. a loud horn sounds from the somewhere in the village, making your ears perk up. 

all five ikrans circle the village looking for a spot to land. neytiri and jake spot a sand bank, pointing for the rest to follow. 

neytiri is the first to land alongside jake, instantly helping tuk off the animal.

once all the family’s ikrans land on the sand, neteyam sighs in defeat as he steps off, “here we go.” he mumbles with a bite to his voice. he reaches a hand out to help you off, but you’ve already slid down the side and hopped into the sand. 

you stare down at your toes wiggling in the white powder that is so unfamiliar to you. it’s like dirtbutit’s so warm and soft. 

with every yip coming from the growing crowd of reef people, your ears twitch. “on me.” jake gestures to the four of you to follow. neteyam’s hand barely grazes over your lower back to guide you between lo’ak, kiri, and himself- all he wants to do is keep you safe. 

jake walks forward with his hands out in surrender as the foreign clan starts to surround your much smaller group. the amount of eyes you can feel on your skin makes you pull neteyams shawl tighter around your upper body. 

neteyam and lo’ak sign ‘i see you’ to two younger metkayina boys, who surprisingly don’t return the gesture. “easy. just be cool.” jake says calmly to his boys. 

“look! what is that?” the shorter one laughs as he points at the neteyam and lo’aks tails, “is that supposed to be a tail?” the comment makes the taller one laugh as they circle your group like predators on prey. 

the taller one locks eyes with you, making your gaze shift from neteyam and then back to him. “and you’ve brought a sky demon.” 

although it was meant to be a statement, his words sound condescending. you refuse to look back up at the boy, shuffling closer to neteyams back. 

lo’ak is too enamored with a girl to pay attention to what was going on. his round eyes watch her emerge from the water, which makes neteyam slyly smirk at his brother from his evident staring. 

“it is too small. how do they swim with it? that one doesn’t even have a tail!” they keep throwing insults at you and the boys, pointing and cackling. 

“enough! roxto, ao’nung.” the girl scolds the metkayina boys by slapping their hands. 

so that what their names are. 

the girl raises her eyes, making eye contact with lo’ak. “hey.” the younger sully boy awkwardly nods at her, making her giggle and look down. 

you can’t help but stifle your laughter, making neteyam look down at you with the same look. your attention is quickly taken away from the budding romance by three large flying fish leaping over your heads. 

a few droplets of water fall onto your face and before you could wipe them away, neteyam beats you to it by swiping his thumb across your salty skin. 

a large metkayina man decorated in bright colored garb emerges from the sea- the olo’eyktan, the chief. your heart thumps rapidly against your rib cage as he grows closer to jake. 

“tonowari, i see you.” jake signs to him, which the larger man quickly signs back. he makes the gesture to each family member, including you. his eyes linger on you for a moment, before continuing on. phew. 

you know you don’t look like the others. your skin isn’t that beautiful shade of blue, but more resembling your mothers with darker opaque stripes on your skin. 

a woman pushes her way through the crowd, her piercing gaze burning a hole through your clan. she does not look happy at the sight of the forest people on her turf. 

“i see you, ronal.” jake bends down, as well as neytiri. the woman doesn’t reciprocate the greeting. 

“why do you come to us, jake sully?” tonowari questions. 

“we seek uturu.” jake gestures to his family. 

“uturu?” the tsahìk looks baffled by jake’s sentence, and you can’t help but watch her reactions.

“a sanctuary for my family.” jake adds desperately. 

“we are reef people. you are forest people. your skills will mean nothing here.” tonowari speaks, watching his mate weave throughout your clan with a demeaning stare. 

“so we will learn your ways, right?” jake looks over at neytiri for help. 

your breathing stops when ronal weaves through your group, her hand snatches neytiri’s tail to observe it before grabbing tuk’s arm to lift it. 

“their arms are thin.” she moves onto kiri, gripping her tail painfully, “their tails are weak… you will be slow in the water.” 

kiri protests as she pulls her tail out of ronal’s hands, furrowing her brows at the touchy lady. 

the tsahìk grips kiri’s hand to show it off to her people, “these children are not even true na’vi. they have demon blood!” 

her eyes dance over the forest people, before making contact with your own. her face drops as she looks you over, making your breathing halt in your chest as she rushes over to you. 

“and they‘ve brought a demon with them!” she exclaims to her people, her hand strongly grips your wrist, jerking it into the air for everybody around you to gawk at. 

gasps and hisses travel throughout the crowd at the sight of you, making your head hang in shame and tears spring to your eyes. you knew this would happen. they wouldn’t accept you for who you are. you’re considered an outsider, an enemy. 

neteyam hisses as he yanks your wrist out of her grip, his arm protectively wraps around your shoulders to push you behind him. before she could argue with the boy, jake takes a step forward between the three of you.

“look! look!” jake lifts his hand to her face, showing off his five fingers as he flips his hand, “i was born of the sky people and now i am na’vi. her mother was born of the sky people and her father was a na’vi! alright, she can adapt. you can adapt. we all can adapt, okay?” 

neytiri places her hand on your shoulder to comfort you before walking up to ronal, “my husband was toruk makto. he led the clans to victory against the sky people.” 

ronal almost scoffs at her words, “this is what you call victory? hiding amongst strangers? it seems eywa has turned her back on you, chosen one.”  she directs the nickname to jake in a derogatory tone. 

neytiri’s shoulders push back as she hisses at her, causing ronal to hiss back just as angrily. 

as the commotion ensues, you look up at neteyam with a weary look in your eyes. he can’t help but reciprocate as he glances at you, before going back to watching his parents with the leaders of the sea clan. 

“toruk makto is a great war leader,” tonowari places his hand on jakes shoulder, “all na’vi people know his story.” he speaks to his people, “but we, metkayina, are not at war.” 

tonowari turns to jake again, “we cannot let you bring your war here.” 

his words make your heart drop, is he going to turn all of you away after this entire time? 

“i’m done with war, okay?” sully holds tuk on his hip as he tries to explain himself, “i’m just- i’m just trying to keep my family safe.” 

you gulp as tonowari and ronal share a few silent glances before she nods reluctantly, “toruk makto and his family will stay with us,” your body tenses up as he continues, “treat them as our brothers and sisters. they do not know the sea, so they will be like babies taking their first breath.” you wince at the comment. 

“teach them our ways so they do not suffer the shame of being useless.” he stares down jake as the last word leaves his mouth. 

jake let’s out a breath, a soft sound of disbelief. “what do we say?” he softly touches tuk’s shoulder. 

“thank you.” she smiles up at the chief.

“my son ao’nung and my daughter tsireya will show your children and the girl what to do.” he gestures to them by his side. 

“father, wha-” the boy goes to complain, but he’s cut off by the older man, “it is decided.” 

the girl from the water smiles beautifully as she steps forward, almost excited to be in charge. “come. i will show you our village.” 

tsireya leads everybody to their new home over a bouncy net material that hovers over the water. tuk starts to hop with one of her hand holding yours, even if your arms are full of supplies you bounce along with her. 

tsireya stops in front of an empty marui with a big smile, “this is for you. your new home.” 

jake says something you can’t make out, but you can tell by how neytiri drops the rug on the ground that she’s upset. 

the rest of the day is taken up by unloading every piece of luggage into your new home, and setting up for the next day. 

there’s one extra pod, where jake and neytiri will stay, that connects to the main room while the rest of you will find a spot in the large living area. 

once your space is set up in the corner of the marui, you can’t help but walk outside to watch the sun sink into the horizon. you sit down on the bouncy weaved fabric, swinging your legs over the clear water. 

the sun casts a golden hue over your skin, the warmth embraces you and pulls you in. you take a moment to breathe, to let your brain rest from all the commotion going on behind you. 

the sully’s are having a family meeting, one you’d rather not be apart of. you can slightly overhear jakes voice, picking out some sentences. 

“learn fast, pull your weight, don’t cause trouble, got it?” 

you almost scoff at his orders, like they’ll listen to him- especially lo’ak. 

“sully’s stick together.” 

the saying makes your lungs pause mid-breath, and for some reason it makes your heart ache. you know the sully’s accept you, and they will always be there for you, but you’re different. 

you’ll always be different, and today showed you that will never change. 

a hand on your shoulder startles you, making you jump in your spot and looking behind you with frantic eyes. 

your gaze softens when you see neteyam’s face, looking down at you with concern in his eyes. “are you alright?” he takes the quick moment between your response time to sit down next to you, his thigh pressed against the side of yours. 

“i am…” you take a deep breath before continuing, “i’m just taking it all in. trying to think of all the good reasons why we’re here.”

his arm wraps around your shoulders, his forearm hanging over the front of you. instinctively, you lean into his chest, letting out a soft sigh. 

just his touch alone relaxes you, bringing you to a tranquil state, “i’m sorry that they said those things about you. you know you’re not a demon, right?” 

his words make you laugh slightly, “yes, i know i’m not a demon.” one of your arms snake around his back to hold onto him while the other rests on his thigh. 

before either of you could say anything, someone walks up behind you both. 

“you kids okay?” jake plops himself down beside neteyam, making you pull yourself slightly away of his embrace out of embarrassment.

“yes, sir.” you mumble, nodding your head as you sheepishly glance down at your feet hanging over the darkening water.

“it’s going to be hard for you to adjust to this lifestyle, kid. for all of us, but you especially.” jake talks directly to you, making your eyebrows furrow. 

“just let me know if anyone… and i mean anyone gives you any trouble, okay?” jake gives you a curt nod, “thank you.” you mumble out gratefully, sending a smile his way. 

“‘course. everyone is heading to bed now, so i’ll leave you kids to it… just uh.. be safe, yeah? don’t do anything i wouldn’t do.” jake looks at neteyam specifically, before slapping his hand down on his sons shoulder and standing up. 

“dad.” neteyam hisses out in embarrassment, earning a chuckle from him as he walks inside the marui back to his family. 

you laugh softly and lean back into neteyams side, arm returning to the spot around his waist. the two of you sit there in silence as the sky grows darker, listening to the soft waves breaking on the shore. 

you let out a little yawn from your fatigue finally catching up to you. the grip around his waist loosens as your body succumbs to your exhaustion, making neteyam smile as your sleepy head bobs. 

the sully boy gently lays both of yoh back on the netted structure you’re sitting on, positioning your head on his chest with his arm wrapped around your frame. his eyes attempt to fight the heaviness weighing down his eyelids, but it quickly pulls him under with you.

…..

“hey, wake up.” someone’s voice calls in your dream, “are you two alive? wake up!”

you suck in a sharp breath when the cushion underneath you is suddenly pulled out from under your head. the bright sun blinds you, almost making you hiss from the sensitivity. your hands come up to shield your eyes, squinting as you look around at the now brightened environment. 

a large figure steps in front of the sun, casting a shadow on your body and forces the light to illuminate the back of their head. it’s neteyams dad. 

where are you right now? why aren’t you in the marui? did you fall asleep outside?

“are you going to sleep all day or actually get up and do something with yourselves?” jake lectures with his hands on his hips. 

you look over to your side, bumping your forehead on the sharp shoulder owned by neteyam. “ouch.” your voice cracks from your dry throat. 

“your siblings are getting ready to go out in the water with tonowari’s children. i expect the two of you to go with them.” 

oh wow, he’s being stern like a dad.. with you. your brain can barely comprehend any words right now from still being half-asleep. 

“hello?” jake calls out into the silence. 

“uhuuh yes sir. we’re getting up now.” neteyam spits something out, making you scramble to your feet along with him. 

instead of getting up smoothly, you and neteyam’s limbs get tangled together causing you to topple back down to the ground. the bouncy material causes you both to fly into the air and back down on top of each other. 

elbows dig into each others sides, knees clack together, and heads bang with a loud crack. you’re sitting in a jumbled mess, groaning and laughing in pain. 

jake exhales loudly, one of his hands rub his temples in frustration. “just make sure you’re ready in five.” he starts to walk away, “i can’t deal with those two…” he mumbles to himself. 

neteyam is the first to stand after your fit of giggles, picking you up along with him. he stumbles his way back into the pod with you before plopping your feet on the ground. 

you stand tall, stretching your arms high above your head with a much-needed yawn. neteyam takes the opportunity to fit his head in the opening of your arms so he could give you a hug. 

he nuzzles into your neck like a cat, rubbing his nose under your jawbone. “i don’t want to get ready.” his breath fans over your neck, making you shiver. 

“me either. i don’t want to hang out with those kids.” you grumble which makes him chuckle and look down at you, “you don’t like someone?” he asks as if he’s surprised you’re being mean.

the gleam in his eyes makes your stomach flutter- as if he wants to devour you and worship you all at the same time. he leans forward to kiss you, his lips perfectly molding with yours.

neteyam takes his time kissing you, relishing in the fact that you’re here in this foreign village with him. he pulls back with a sigh, making your face crinkle with worry, “what’s wrong, nete?” 

“it’s past five minutes.” he whispers teasingly, making your eyes roll. 

“fine, i guess we should get ready.” you reluctantly pull out of his embrace to search for your things to get changed, forcing neteyam outside for your privacy. 

you can hear muffled conversation from outside the pod, making you hurry up and scurry outside hoping it’s not his dad. 

“come on, you skxwangs. we’re all waiting.” lo’ak gestures with his head for you two to follow him. 

on the way there, you find kiri and tuk waiting. tuk squeals your name and practically jumps on you to hug you tightly. “oh hi, tuk!” you gently squeeze her. 

“come on! they’re leaving without us!” she lets go to follow her brothers down to a deeper part of the water, almost a dock of some sort. 

tsireya, ao’nung, and roxto are waiting at the end, their conversation stopping once they notice the five of you walking up. 

“you guys ready?” she calls out with a dimpled smile. 

“let’s go.” ao’nung and roxto dive into the water first. tsireya sighs, motioning with her hand for everyone to follow as she jumps in right behind them.

your heart skips a beat from the excitement of finally being able to swim, “come on!” you slap the back of your hand against neteyam’s chest before sprinting down to the end of the dock. 

you leap into the air and let out a loud whooping yelp, before crashing into the ocean. once the bubbles around you clear up, the environment around you comes to life. 

the terrain is so different from the forest, being underwater is the first, but there is so much life swimming every where around you. 

you dive a little deeper, admiring the large colorful rocks and coral that decorate the sea floor and roots of the mangroves. that’s where you see tsireya and the two metkayina boys, ao’nung and roxto. above you, lo’ak and neteyam are slowly following with tuk floating right below the surface.

you continue to swim, your smaller limbs somehow keeping up with the natives. especially with your barely healed ankle. you spin around to swim on your back to glance up at the boys, smiling wide. your fingers wave at them, making lo’ak elbow neteyam in the side to look down at you.

after receiving a smile from your nete, your attention is taken away by a plant surrounded by fish that sparkle under the sunlight. you grin as they circle around your head before swimming way, blending in with the rest of ocean. 

you glance up at neteyam and lo’ak and instead of meeting their eyes, you see their feet kicking as their heads stick above the water. 

quickly, you push off the bottom of the ocean to send yourself upwards until your head breaches the surface. 

“you alright?” you breathe out heavily, inhaling some fresh air as your arms wade to keep you afloat. 

“you’re so fast. how are you doing it?!” neteyam cackles at you as his hands reach to pinch your waist. you squeal and send a splash towards him. 

“slow down! we can’t keep up.” tuk whines, making you paddle over to her, “do you want me to swim with you?” you happily offer. 

she nods excitedly with a beam, her arms flying around your neck to hug you. 

tsireya and the other two pop up, “are you guys okay?”

“yeah. they’re just not good at swimming.” you say playfully, earning a killer side eye from neteyam and lo’ak. 

“maybe good at swinging through trees…” ao’nung says cockily, making his sister hit his head with her hand. 

“come on, bro.” lo’ak grumbles. 

“we don’t speak this finger talk.” neteyam motions with his hand, “i will teach you.” she replies. 

“follow us. we’ll go slower.” tsireya smiles and nods before disappearing under the water again. you suck in a deep breath, grabbing tuk’s hand before ducking under the water with her. 

tsireya leads all of you to a shallow sandbar where a few other metkayina are hanging about. 

ao’nung is the first to stand up with the rest of you following behind. he clicks his tongue and whoops to summon three underwater animals. 

“these are ilu. if you want to live here, you have to ride.” he explains to the group as the animals wait for instruction. 

this is your first time making tsaheylu with an animal. your kuru has always been just like everyone else’s, encased in a long braid down your back. 

tsireya leads lo’ak to one, while roxto helps neteyam. you’re left with ao’nung. 

the metkayina boy gestures for you to follow him into the water, “have you ever made bond with an animal before?” he asks. 

“no, i haven’t. this would be my first time.” you say a bit nervously. he almost chuckles, you can tell he holds himself back saying something smart. he leads you into the shallow part of the water, holding onto the animals neck to steady it for you. 

“just climb on. gently.. gently.” he guides you onto its back until you’re straddling the saddle. he holds up the part of the animal where you connect your kuru to. 

the pink tendrils emerge from the ends of your hair, tangling with the ilu’s. 

your entire body goes still as your nervous systems become one, a shock of electricity buzzes throughout your nerve-endings. the animal chitters under your thighs, making you suck in a breath that you didn’t know you were holding. 

you can’t help but let out a happy laugh. you can feel the animals heartbeat in sync with your own, how it’s lungs expand with every inhale, breathing amongst yours.

“there you go.” ao’nung chuckles at your excitement, before slapping the back of the animal. it squaks and takes off, diving deep into the sea scarily fast. 

the pressure of the water sends you flying off, twirling and spinning in as it leaves you in the dust. you kick with all of your might to make it to the surface, wanting to take a deep breath but instead you cough up water. 

the salty liquid burns at your nostrils, making you gag as you try to breathe. 

you make your way back to the sand bank, crawling up onto the wet sand and flopping onto your back. your chest heaves as you try to breathe normally, shielding your eyes from the sun beating down onto you. 

tuk appears above you, seemingly upside down from your view. “are you okay?” her voice is full of worry as she looks over your face. 

you can hear people cackling to the side, making your head turn towards the sound. it’s ao’nung and his stupid friends. you groan as you turn towards at the sky, squeezing your eyes shut. “yeah, tuk… i’m fine.” you breathe out. 

you sit up with a painful whine, gripping your side as you stand up fully. 

tsireya emerges from the water with a panting lo’ak, obviously he’s having some trouble too. “we can get started on learning how to hold your breath.” 

your eyes dart around the area for neteyam, heart starting to race when you can’t find him. 

“where is-?” you’re cut off by two hands slapping down on your shoulders, making you look up at whoever is behind you. 

“where is who, hm?” neteyam flashes his smile down at you, his wet braids drip water droplets onto your warm skin. you let out a relieved breath when you realize it’s him, instantly leaning back into his chest. 

his arms casually cross over your shoulders, holding you into place as he looks around at everyone. “so what are we doing next?” 

“come.” tsireya motions with her hand to follow her. she leads the three of you onto some rocks, climbing over them and dodging the sharp edges with her feet. 

kiri pops her head out of the water, calling to tuk so she can bring her back to the village. somehow the girl already found her own ilu after splitting from the group in the water. you know she has her own way of doing things, especially things that deal with nature. 

you wave to them both before neteyam grabs your hand to pull you along with him. 

tsireya, lo’ak and roxto are sitting in a circle on a flat part of the rocks. you sit down between neteyam and lo’ak, crossing your legs. 

“breathe in…” tsireya puts one of her hands on her chest and the other on her belly as she inhales. you follow her movements, taking a deep breath and exhaling just like her. “and breathe out.”

her hand extends, holding something imaginary in her fingertips, “imagine a flickering flame. you must slow down your heartbeat.” 

her eyes travel to lo’ak who was staring a hole into the side of her face. the boy stills as one of her hands press against his chest and the other against his stomach. “breathe in… breathe from down here. breathe out slowly..”

lo’ak continues to breathe with her instructions, but you can tell he is tense from how close she is. 

“lo’ak, your heartbeat is fast.” she looks up at him. 

“sorry.” he quickly looks away, “try to focus.” she mumbles as she intently listens to his breathing. 

you glance up at neteyam and roxto, holding back a laugh as you breathe along with them. the tension between those two could be cut with a knife.

“let your mind go clear.” 

after going through a few more breathing excercises with tsireya, she decides you’re all ready to practice the new techniques underwater. she summons the ilu’s to the surface, diving into the water and mounting onto the back of hers. 

you take a deep breath before jumping into the water, using all your muscles to pull yourself onto the back of your own. once you make bond with the animal, the similar shiver bolts down your spine. you gently pet the animals head, smiling as you internally calm them down. 

someone’s eyes burn into your skin, making you look to either side of you. neteyam is staring at you with a proud grin on his face, sitting on the saddle of his ilu. he sends a wink your way before diving under the water, making you gasp. 

you’re right behind him, diving straight down into the water. your ilu know to swim faster because you want to catch up to him and this time, you make sure to hold on tight. 

you chase him around a tall root of a mangrove, your hand reaches out to try and grab his tail but the boy is way too fast.

neteyam makes a sharp turn upwards, bolting towards the surface where tsireya and lo’ak are sitting. you roll your eyes and follow, breaching the surface with a big inhale of fresh air. 

“you scared i was going to catch up to you?” you tease him, leaning forward on your saddle to look past lo’ak’s body to talk to neteyam on the other side.

“scared? i’m just too fast foryou.” he replies arrogantly, making you playfully gasp in shock.

“low blow, bro.” lo’ak laughs. 

“say that three times fast. i dare you, lo’ak.” you squint at the younger brother, earning a splash of water sent your way. 

“on that note, i’m going back to the village.” your ilu starts to swim forward slowly, “you guys coming?” 

neteyam starts to follow you, but the other two stay behind. “i’m going to help lo’ak with his breathing. we’ll be right behind you guys.” tsireya smiles at the two of you.

neteyam and you share a silent glance before shrugging and taking off under the water. the two of you chase each other until you meet the waters edge, hopping off in the shallow water and swimming the rest of the way to shore. 

neteyam helps you walk as you tread through the wet sand, laughing and giggling about the day. 

“and then.. and then you went like this!” you motion with your hands as if they were the two of you underwater. your hands cross over each other as you demonstrate to him how you swam together. 

as both of you walk farther up the beach, you finally realize that less and less metkayina are around you. 

you lift your eyes up from your hands, darting around to see them scurry out of your way. as if you were diseased. your heart drops to your feet and your hands fall to your sides, slapping against your upper thighs. 

“don’t worry about them. keep going.” neteyam urges you, one of his hands come up to your shoulder to pull you closer to him. 

“i just can’t believe they’re still so afraid. if i was going to do something to them, i would have done it already.” you huff out in frustration, continuing to walk up towards the village. 

neteyam leads you back to the marui, his arm sits around your shoulders. almost possessively, to show that you are not to be messed with. 

when you walk inside you see kiri, who perks up at your presence, “i was waiting for you! come!” she jumps up from her spot on the floor, grabbing your wrist to pull you out of neteyams grasp. 

“hey! where are you going?” he calls after you, making you turn your head and shrug. 

“somewhere you don’t need to be!” kiri calls back to him, making you giggle as you follow her. she continues to pull you along to the end of the walkway, hopping off into the white sand. 

“kiri, what are we doing?” you softly laugh as you stumble through the sand behind her, “i just need to show you something.” 

your eyebrows furrow, but you continue to oblige. she pulls you down into the clear water, landing on her knees. “look!” she dunks her head underwater, staring at something in the sand. 

you follow her movements, pressing your face into the cool water as you lay on your stomach. 

she points at a tiny pinhole in the sand, almost barely visible to the naked eye. as the gentle waves caress the back of your head, and over the two of you, a little bubble pops on the surface of the hole. 

kiri smiles wide, pulling her head to talk to you. “did you see it?” 

you sit up, resting back on your heels and blinking a few times as you try to understand why she’s so excited about a bubble. “i did.” 

“you think it’s stupid, don’t you.” she sighs, shaking her head. “no! kiri, i don’t. of course, i don’t.” you shake your head, grabbing her wrist to hold her hand. 

before either of you could respond, you see something poking out of the hole. kiri hushes you and plunges her face into the water to watch a little claw extend from it. 

you can’t help but play along, putting your face into the water to watch the creature emerge. until it sees two giant faces hovering above, and scurries back into its home. 

the two of you lay there, feet kicking above the water as you watch the bubbles pop and the creature tease you by popping out and going back in. it’s quite therapeutic actually. just laying here and watching bubbles. 

muffled conversation and splashing grows louder in the water as a few pairs of feet come closer to you and kiri. your head is the first to emerge from the water, blinking away the liquid from your lashes. 

oh great mother. it’s ao’nung and his friends. this isn’t going to be good. 

“huh? what’d you say?” kiri is the first to speak as she sits back on her legs, looking up at the group of boys. 

you sit up along with her, staring up at them as your heart pounds. you’re ready to fight if they try anything. 

“are you guys some kind of… freaks?” ao’nung asks as if it was a serious question. 

“he asked if you are a freak.” roxto repeated the question, like the little ass-kisser that he is.

your eyebrows furrow as you scoff, your hand grips kiri’s to pull her out of the water and up toward the dry sand. 

“no, we are not.” kiri rolls her eyes as you drag her up to the shore. 

“are you sure? i mean you’re not even real na’vi, and that one isn’t even supposed to be here.” the boy continues to make fun, but all you do is tune it out. 

“come on, kiri. let’s go.” you try to pull her along but he continues his rant, “the demon speaks!” he exclaims as the cackling boys crowd around you, harboring you both in the middle. 

“i mean look at her! her skin isn’t even the same as ours, and look at their hands! i mean look at them!” ao’nung reaches out to grip kiri’s wrist while another boy grabs yours. 

you attempt to pull away, but his strength is too hard to overcome. 

“hey!” someone shouts from across the beach, making your worried eyes look behind you. the boy let’s go of kiri, but the one holding onto you doesn’t let go just yet.

it’s lo’ak. oh eywa this isn’t going to end up well.

“back off, fish lips.” lo’ak walks up to ao’nung who looks down at the sully boy, “oooh look another freak.” 

roxto grabs lo’aks tail, “aww, look at his little baby tail!” 

he quickly turns around and pushes him off, “don’t touch me.”

the boy holding onto you pushes you to the ground as he lets go of you, making you grunt as your body comes in contact with the sand. 

kiri runs to your side to help you stand up, glancing over at lo’ak getting surrounded by the group, “leave us alone!” she yells at them, but her voice falls to deaf ears. 

your ears twitch when you hear fast footsteps approaching from behind you, making your head spin around to see neteyam marching forward.

one of his hands grip ao’nung’s shoulder to pull it back before pushing him, making the boy take a step back. 

“you heard what she said.” neteyam points at him, pressing his index finger against his chest, “leave them alone.” 

another one of ao’nungs minions starts to say something, but he raises his hand to shut him up. 

“back off. now.” he shoves his finger against his chest harder. ao’nung stares at neteyam with his head cocked to the side before raising his hands in surrender with a little smirk. 

“smart choice.” neteyam takes a step back, his head turning to look over you and kiri, “and from now on. i need you to respect them, and keep your hands off of them.” 

one of the boys hiss at neteyam, making you grimace in disgust. kiri sticks her tongue out at him as you flip them the bird, knowing they probably have no idea what that means. 

“let’s go.” neteyam says, letting lo’ak pass him, then kiri and you. he puts an arm around your shoulder to pull you into his side as you walk away.

“you okay?” he asks you quietly. all you can do is nod, and wrap your arms around his waist and smoosh your face into his side. 

“buh-bye!” one of them call out sarcastically. 

“look at them. they’re all freaks. the whole family.” ao’nung comments as you walk away. 

lo’ak stops in his tracks, taking a deep breath as he turns on his heel. 

“lo’ak.” neteyam warns him to stop. 

“i got this, bro.” he raises a hand as if that would stop neteyam from worrying. 

he waltz right up to ao’nung, “i know this hand is funny. look, i’m a freak. an alien.” he holds up his pinky, wiggling it in the air. 

“but it can do something really cool. watch.” he starts tightening his hand into a fist, “first, i ball it up real tight, like this.”

“and then..” he cranks his arm back and throws a hard punch right into ao’nungs jaw. the boy stumbles back in shock before another fist is slammed against his face, and another. 

the last one sends the boy down to the ground, blood seeping from his nose. “it’s called a punch, bitch! don’t ever touch them again.” 

ao’nung hops up and growls loudly at him before tackling lo’ak to the ground. lo’ak somehow gets on top of the boy before he’s pulled off by his tail. 

neteyam sighs and scratches his head, knowing he’s going to have to help. he pulls away from you and storms into the fight. you and kiri watch with wide eyes as neteyam throws a few heavy-handed punches and kicks before he is pummeled to the ground as well. 

“stop it!” kiri tries to call out to them, but of course they don’t listen. 

“so stupid.” you grumble with your hands on your hips as you watch it play out. 

you and kiri start to giggle as they drag each other by tails and ears across the sand, making them scream out in pain. 

“hey, hey! stop! break it up!” jake storms forward, pushing the boys away from each other. 

some metkayina boys scurry away, running into the village. lo’ak has to be peeled away from ao’nung, while neteyam stands and surrenders with his hands up. 

neteyam and lo’ak are ushered back to camp away from the fight and past you and kiri. 

after the boys are lectured and forced to apologize to the chief’s son, neytiri makes you and kiri help with making food. 

you can’t help but think about everything they said to you and kiri. 

calling you a demon, and her not a true na’vi. making fun of how you both have five fingers instead of four, how your skin isn’t the same color as theirs. 

you didn’t even realize tears were dripping down your cheeks until kiri lays her head on your shoulder, hugging you from the side. she lets out a loud sigh, making neytiri’s eyes rise from the food she’s wrapping in front of her.  

“what is wrong?” she asks, completely disregarding the food now. 

“nothing.” kiri dismisses the question, as your head hangs low to hide your face. obviously something is wrong, but neytiri doesn’t want to push it. 

it’s barely been two days, and all you want to do is lay back in the lush grass, smell the earth and dirt around you and feel the soft sun rays kiss your skin. 

the weather here is harsh, and the ground is gritty and seems to settle in the worst spots. you want your forest back, to be able to leap from tree to tree with neteyam, kiri, and lo’ak. 

you want to be with neteyam, to watch him grow into his position as olo’eyktan. you knew that these reef people would never accept you; you’re an outsider, a half breed, alien, and a sky demon. you’ll never be more to them than that. 

as the sky transforms from blue into pinks and oranges, you finally finish your chores. neytiri and kiri leave the pod to deliver the food, leaving you alone in the marui. you walk over to your corner to sit down on your blanket and pull a book out of your pack to read. you sit back against a pillow that is supported by the wall.

a human book nonetheless; one that norm gave you before you left home. neteyam plops down next to you, almost ignoring him from how immersed you are in the book. 

the boy pulls you into his side, almost half on his chest. “what are you reading?” his eyes skim the page as he rests his chin on top of your head. 

“something norm gave me. about uh, science stuff.” you laugh.  

“what kind of science stuff?” he questions. 

“cells… and humans… and anatomy…” you breathe out. 

“sounds boring.” he hums. 

“it’s not that boring. it’s about my body. maybe you should read it to learn more about it.” you tease him slightly, making the boy slightly stiffen under your weight. 

“give me that.” he snatches it from your hands, pulling it up to his height. “oh it says here… that when you are being clingy and annoying it means you only want one thing.” 

your eyebrows furrow, spinning around in your spot to stare at him. “and what is it?”

“me.” he chuckles, handing the book back to you. 

you snatch the book from the air, eyes skimming over the page to see what he was reading but it’s all about cells and mitosis. nothing about what you need.  

“ugh! you ass!” you slam the book shut and throw it to the side. you can’t help but take the opportunity to climb on top of him, straddling his waist since that you’re finally alone together. 

his hands find your hips instantly, holding onto your body tight. your eyes dance across his features, looking over his swollen lip that was cut open during the fight and the bruises slowly becoming more evident on his blue skin.  

“what’re you staring at?” he questions with his big round eyes looking over your face too. 

“you.” you giggle out, leaning forward to press a soft kiss against his lips. he winces slightly from the pain, making you pull back. 

“no, no. i don’t want to stop kissing you.” his voice is breathy as he leans forward to capture your lips with more force this time. 

he ignores the pain, kicking it to the back of his mind as he deepens the kiss. he hasn’t been able to kiss you like this in forever, everything has been so chaotic. 

“do you realize how hot it was to see you fight for me today?” you mumble into the kiss, making him pull back slightly. 

“it was hot?” he asks with a laugh. 

“so hot.” you nod, grabbing his face with your hands to pull him back to you. one of his hands slither away from your hips, up your spine and to the back of your top. 

his fingers play with the threads, ready to untie it before someone clears their throat to the side. you practically throw yourself off of neteyam, scared that it’s one of his parents. 

“aye!” he calls out as you fling yourself backward, following you down to the ground to cushion your fall with his hands. this puts you both in the worst position with your legs wrapped around his hips and him on top of you. 

his head turns towards the person standing at the entrance, his features contorting in anger. “what are you doing here?” 

it’s ao’nung. 

“look, i’m sorry for interrupting whatever that was…” the bruised boy holds back a laugh, “but it’s about your brother.” 

neteyam looks down at you with disappointment written across his features. he lets out a loud sigh before standing up and walking outside to talk to the boy, “this better be good.”

while they’re both outside, you get yourself situated back on top of your blanket, watching the conversation grow more heated by the second. 

you don’t expect neteyam to grip the back of ao’nungs neck to push him forward and lead him down to jake sitting with kiri near the water. 

you fly up onto your feet, scurrying forward to follow him. but jake is already storming away with ao’nung, flying right past you with neteyam following.

kiri jogs up to you, her hand coming up to rest on your upper arm. her eyes are wide with panic, and her body slightly trembling from the bad news ao’nung must’ve just told them. 

“it’s lo’ak. he went outside of the reef and he’s missing.” 

-

tags: @k----a27s @aspenreadsfanfic @aliseaaah @bellwhether @xoxobabe @koalalafications @embersfae @mae-is-crazy @softhetixx @minkyungseokie @iwanttohitmyself @neqeyam @lovedbychoi @lala-1516

note: hope u guys liked this one!! obvs there will be another part so if you wanna be tagged inbox me or comment <333

[dindjarindiaries]

What about

“You’re not alone, baby. You never have been.”

With Hunter? I’m so glad you’re interested in writing for him right now. He’s my favorite!

character: Hunter (The Bad Batch)

prompt: “You’re not alone, baby. You never have been.”

main masterlist • hunter masterlist

It felt good to be helping someone again, and that's what you dwelled upon as you and Wrecker laughed with the clone cadets in the cockpit of the Marauder. They had been curious about some of Wrecker's wartime stories, and both he—and you, as a long-time honorary member of the squad—had decided to tell your most fond memories. Most of those involved laughs, usually centered on the pure chaos of each story.

But the absence of one was felt heavily, particularly for you. There was a cold chill in the place of the empty chair alongside you, and when you tore your gaze away from Wrecker and the boys, you saw Hunter bent over Tech's old datapad yet again. Your lips pulled tight, and your fingers tapped against your crossed arms.

You didn't want to admit it, but he had only been getting worse as time went on.

It wasn't unusual for Hunter to be in his lonesome. As the squad leader, he often took it upon himself to seek isolation and focus on planning ahead. His enhanced senses made isolation even more tempting for him.

This isolation, however, was different. Losing Crosshair what felt like cycles ago was bad enough. Echo's departure was understood by everyone, but hard to digest. Then, all at once, it was Tech and Omega.

Hunter didn't have to tell you about the burdens on his shoulders. It was clear in the way he carried himself. As the person he left himself be the most vulnerable with, you saw it more than anyone else could.

No doubt sensing your eyes on him, Hunter's gaze rose and met yours for a moment. As if it was too much for him, he cut his eyes away, setting down the datapad on the station and rising from his chair. He disappeared behind the curtain of Omega's room, yet again shutting himself away.

That time, you weren't letting it slide.

You brushed your hand over Wrecker's shoulder to catch his attention. He stopped another fit of laughter to look at you, and you gestured with your head to the back of the ship. Wrecker's brow knit together as he nodded in understanding, and your shared gaze said enough. He would have no trouble entertaining your guests as the Marauder made its way to Pabu.

You kept your footsteps light as you closed the distance to Omega's room. Still, Hunter would sense your approach. Whatever you could do to make it easier for him, though, you would. Forcing him into overstimulation wouldn't help to accomplish that goal.

You drew the curtain aside and climbed the rungs of the ladder. Making sure the curtain was closed behind you, you pushed ahead, peering around the corner of the interior hull to see Hunter sitting on Omega's old bed. His knees were drawn up to his chest as the back of his head rested against the hull, his eyes closed—but not in a peaceful way.

He exhaled as he sensed your presence, his eyes remaining closed even as he spoke in a low voice. "I'm sorry."

You raised your brow at him. "For what?"

Hunter's eyes opened before he rolled his head to the side and faced you. There was a distress so prominent in his brown eyes that it made your chest ache with a resounding pang. "You and Wrecker were having fun. Smiling, laughing even." The corners of his mouth pulled up only for a moment at the thought of your joy. "I didn't mean to ruin it."

You frowned at him. "You didn't ruin it, Hunter."

Hunter huffed, a self-deprecating sound as he rolled his head back to where it had been before. His fingers fumbled with each other as he went on. "I need to start making use of these private spaces again. I've... gotten too comfortable thinking out in the open."

You started to scoot yourself closer to him. "Because you have the space to. There's no reason to be on your own."

Hunter's gaze was cast upwards and it stayed there, even as you watched his jaw work for a few moments. "I left Crosshair on his own. I let the Empire get away with Omega. And I ordered Tech to..."

Hunter didn't have to finish that thought, and he couldn't if he wanted to. You watched as his eyes squeezed closed again, his chest inflating with a breath he held as his lips pressed together and his jaw circled. You brought yourself close enough to his side to take one of his gloved hands and lace it with yours, resting them on your thigh as you waited patiently for him.

"I may not have a reason to be on my own, but I deserve to be." Hunter reopened his eyes, revealing the tears that sat stubbornly on his waterline. Your body nearly trembled in your grief for him as he went on. "I'm alone with these decisions I made." He swallowed hard, making the lump in his throat even more visible to you. "I always will be."

You lifted your free hand to the side of his face furthest from you, gently turning his cheek to make you face him again. His devastation threatened to ruin you, but you kept yourself strong for his sake, offering him a refuge with a smile to light the end of his dark tunnel. "You're not alone, baby." Your voice was hushed, barely a whisper as your fingertips ran over his cheek. "You never have been." You brushed some of the wisps of hair away from his bandana. "And you never have to be."

Hunter paused, and you knew him well enough to recognize that he was using his senses to detect a lie. When he came up with nothing but the truth, he rested his forehead against yours in relieved surrender. "I know the responsibility I hold. I will never shy away from it. But, this... these burdens..." his voice lowered to a broken yet honest whisper as he finished, "I need help carrying them."

You cupped his jaw and ran your thumb over his skin. "You never had to carry them on your own, Hunter." You nodded at him. "We want to help." You gave his hand that you still held a squeeze. "I want to help."

Hunter searched your gaze before he returned your nod, his tensed shoulders beginning to loosen as he whispered his genuine gratitude upon your lips. "Thank you."

Your kiss was slow and soft, taking its time in the very same way Hunter would with his share of these burdens. You kept him close, reminding him of how you would always be there—and not needing a single word to do so. His free hand snuck around the back of your neck to pull you closer, a gentle plea for you to stay close. It was an order you were more than happy to take from him.

When you parted, Hunter began to smile, a gesture you hadn't seen on him in much too long. You raised your brow and already felt your lips spreading wide in your own grin before he explained himself. "You know, uh... nobody's ever called me that."

You furrowed your brow at his sudden shyness as his cheeks began to redden. "Called you what?"

Hunter's gaze fell to your entwined hands as he gently began to knead his within your own. The smile wouldn't leave his lips as he repeated the endearment with an adorable awkwardness. "'Baby.'"

You relaxed your brow. "Oh." You softly nudged his shoulder to gain his attention once again. "Well, do you like it?"

Hunter waited a beat before nodding, his face reddening even more at the confession.

You let out a soft laugh. "Then it's settled." You lifted your entwined hands to your lips and kissed his gloved knuckles. "It's you and me, baby."

Hunter rested his forehead against your temple and closed his eyes in sweet relief. "You and me."

[sansaorgana]

Bucky x reader where they get reunited after he gets back home, Mabye a very sappy and fluff and him getting back into demestic like w his girl and Mabye she’s like a clothing maker or m clothing mender/ tailor and that’s how she stay afloat while he’s gone and had no idea she was able to create things like that.

hi, babe! 💕 this is my first Bucky request – I believe I have at least one more in my inbox – and as I have promised, I gave it a chance to write for him 😅 I hope it's good enough because it felt totally different to write for him than for Buck lol 😁

Bucky was a never ending trouble in the best meaning of this word. He was loud, funny, playful, teasing and full of energy. Life with him was a rollercoaster you never wanted to get out of. When he went to Europe, it was as if he had taken all your sunshine and happiness with him.

The days were long and grey – boring. It was all about going to work and coming back home to listen to the radio and read all the letters you had received from your fiancé. That was for a few first months but then you found a hobby.

It had started with looking at the magazines and wanting those colourful dresses and skirts they had there but you couldn’t afford them. So you had bought a fabric and dug out your mother’s old sewing machine from the attic. Using her old books about making clothes on your own, you had managed to create your first floral skirt. Your very first rush of dopamine and colour after Bucky’s departure.

When your neighbours had noticed your skirts and dresses, they wanted them, too. It had quickly become your additional source of money, but most importantly – it was grounding you. You had spent endless nights listening to the radio and working on the fabrics, humming to yourself and trying to stay hopeful instead of constantly worrying about Bucky. You would go to sleep so tired that you couldn’t even stare at the ceiling and be anxious about his life. Sometimes it had been making you feel guilty that you were distracting yourself so much when he was a prisoner in some camp an ocean away from you… But you wanted to remain being yourself as much as you could. You didn’t want him to be greeted back home with the shadow of a woman he had once known.

Seeing him again felt odd. For a short while you hesitated from running into his arms and just stared at him as if he was a ghost. It was Bucky who ran up to you and picked you up to spin you around with that wide grin of his. You cupped his cheeks and smiled back, leaning in to rub your noses together and then join your lips in a sweet kiss. His moustache tickled your face as you wrinkled your nose with a giggle.

“My sweet girl,” he greeted you. “Sorry for being late. They didn’t want to let me go,” he made a joke as usual.

“Oh, how I missed you, John,” you kissed him again and he put you down on the ground.

“I see you’re all dolled up for me,” he pointed out and your eyes sparkled at that comment. You liked it when he was giving you compliments like that, it was making you feel confident and seen.

“Well, I tried,” you smiled.

“Where did you get a dress like that?” He asked, looking you up and down in a manner that brought heat to your cheeks. You already knew what he was thinking about.

“I made it,” you shrugged your arms and walked inside the house. 

“What do you mean you made it? You can create such things with those pretty little hands?” He was visibly impressed.

“Yes, I can show you after dinner,” you nodded at him.

After dinner, you brought all the dirty dishes to the kitchen and let them soak in the water before taking your apron off and joining Bucky in the living room. He was walking around and looking at the pictures of you two that you had on display.

“I liked to have you around,” you told him as you leant on the doorway. “A reminder that my boyfriend was not made up.”

“It feels so odd to be here,” he admitted and you smiled sadly at him. “Are you sure you want me to move in? I can rent a room in town.”

“I want you here with me,” you assured him.

“People will talk,” he pointed out. You knew that he didn’t worry about his reputation at all. But he worried about yours. You were always his first choice and his most important person. Alongside his best friend Buck.

“To the hell with them,” you rolled your eyes and he chuckled before approaching you and placing kisses all over your face.

“That’s the spirit. That’s my girl,” he teased. “I’m gonna marry you soon anyway and fill this house with a bunch of little babies. Daughters as beautiful and sons as smart as their mother,” he booped you on the nose.

“Girls can be smart, too,” you reminded him. “And boys can be beautiful,” you caressed his cheek.

“Yes, yes, of course… Now, show me the dresses?”

You nodded with a smile and held his hand to lead him upstairs.

“It’s not only dresses, you know… Skirts, too. A few blouses. I dug out my mum’s old sewing machine and started to make them. Half of the street wears them now. I earned quite a lot,” you admitted and Bucky whistled in admiration.

You opened the door to your bedroom. The sewing machine was standing by the window where the vanity table had once been. And on the chair next to it there were many colourful fabrics.

“Will you make something for me, too?” Bucky touched the fabrics delicately with his fingertips.

“I can surely try,” you chuckled. “But I will have to buy a new fabric.”

“No, no, look,” he pointed at the material with flowers, “a shirt like this,” he said and you laughed. “I’m being serious,” he winked at you. “I’d wear that. And I’d proudly say my wife made it when people asked or laughed.”

“Well, alright then, I’ll make you one like this but if you don’t wear it, I will never make anything else for you ever again,” you stuck your tongue out.

“Fine,” he stuck out his, too and you both laughed.

Bucky turned his back on you to keep admiring the fabrics and the neatly folded dresses and skirts inside your half-open wardrobe and you bit on your lower lip, trying not to make a sound as you felt the tears streaming down your cheeks. You didn’t want to alarm him and to worry him, so you tried to hide your emotional reaction but eventually, you let out a sob and hid your face in your hands.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Bucky turned around and approached you quickly to put his arms around you. You shook your head, refusing to speak. “Sweetheart, talk to me.”

“It’s just… It’s just… I’m so happy you’re back and I can joke around with you again and…” you looked up into his worried eyes. “And making these clothes… It was everything keeping me alive when you were away. It was the only thing that helped me to stay sane. And now… Now you’re back, you’re really back and I can’t believe how happy I am… All that tension is just… gone,” you sniffed your tears back.

“Hey, baby,” Bucky wiped your tears off of your cheeks gently. “You should have known I wouldn’t let them kill me, right? And that I’d come back to you. I was planning to escape every day, hell, I would have escaped a hundred times but Buck was stopping me from doing something stupid. And I am grateful because in the end I am here with you. I just wish I could have been calling you from there to hear your sweet voice, to let you know I was okay. I hated to think how worried you had to be, little one,” he cupped your face and pulled you closer. You hugged him and rested your head on his chest. Bucky kissed your forehead and rubbed your back.

“I want to show you something else,” you whispered after a while and he nodded silently, still looking at you with worried eyes.

You approached the wardrobe and stood on a stool. Bucky followed you and stood behind you to make sure to catch you if you would fall down. You reached out to the top shelf and brought down a box. You put it on the bed and opened it, shyly looking at your fiancé.

He looked inside and widened his eyes at the sight of a collection of baby clothes.

“I made them for the future,” you told him quietly. “For our babies,” you added. “And I decided that if you don’t come back… I’d have them burnt. Even if I married someone else and had children with him, they wouldn’t be our babies. So, yeah… I was making them some nights, smiling to myself, hoping that some higher power sees that and thinks that now they just have to spare you,” you confessed.

“They’re beautiful,” Bucky picked up one of them and smiled widely. “I think they are my favourite creations of yours,” he admitted and you laughed through the tears.

“Thank you.”

Bucky put the clothes back into the box carefully and then he moved the box away to remove it from the bed completely.

“We should get to work then,” he winked at you and you furrowed your brows at those words but after a while you realised what he had meant.

“Oh, no, no, no, don’t you dare, Major Egan!” You giggled. “People will talk enough already about the two of us! For that we will wait until the wedding.”

“Let’s get married tomorrow then,” he grinned at you.

“You can’t be serious,” you sighed.

“Why not?”

“Because… I won’t be able to make a wedding dress overnight. In three days,” you reached your hand out with a playful smile.

“Three days, let that be. A man can wait,” he shook your hand as if you just had made a business deal and then he pulled you back into his arms again.

MASTERLIST

[crossingthedreams]

blood — the ghoul x f!reader

a/n: yay, i’m posting day 04 — blood on day 06! lol, i’m terrible at time management, but i’m still set on doing this whole challenge! and also, fight me, but walton goggins as the ghoul is INSANELY hot. also, his wife is directing a movie starring him and pedro pascal, so I guess i’m still very much in my comfort zone…? anyway, enjoy! 

summary: humanity is not exclusive to humans, violence is definitely not exclusive to humans. and, apparently, neither is being loved by other humans.

word count: 2k

warnings: angst. age gap. mentions of smut. violence. aggression towards the reader. blood. bad jokes, lol

You couldn’t really fix him, but irredeemableness was hot sometimes.

You ran into each other for the first time about a decade ago, when you were only a young girl finding a place in the world. What caught his eyes all those years ago was the way you naturally knew morals were relative, but ethics were not. An eye for an eye, kill or be killed, that was the law of the wastelands — you realized this very soon, and your priorities were only to enjoy whatever time you had on this violent, destroyed, weird, but still beautiful Earth. 

He helped you get your very first job making inventories for a big store in a small town where he stopped by to collect bounty, and from then on you made quite a life for yourself. You knew mathematics, and you had quite the way with words. Being a young woman helped, too. Customers always liked pretty things. 

He visited you every now and then. You were his only ally left in this town. He came by when he could and stayed while he pleased, never one to announce his arrival or departure. Once he disappeared for two years, and you were sure he was dead — dead for real.

As always, he proved himself resistant. Like a radroach. 

You weren’t the least surprised when he walked in through the front door of your store like he owned the place, looking around and whistling in a complementary fashion. 

“Who’d you sleep with to get such a… prestigious job, sweetheart?”, his half smile matched his mischievous expression. That accent was unmistakable.

You closed the book you were writing the inventory, not bothering to greet or acknowledge him. 

“We’re closed”. 

“Even for dear ol’ friends?”.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did closed mean something else in the good ol’ days?”, your response was harsher than you thought, as you kept on organizing the balcony. He liked it, though, always one to nurture any violence you had within you, even if it was directed towards him. 

The half smile was still there. “Sweetheart,” his accent was really strong, and it was music to your ears, although you’d never admit, “you have a place full of them goods, and I got a handful of pretty little caps”.

“We can make this work”, you finally let your gaze meet his. He looked even less human than last time. The hole on the place where his nose should be no longer surprised you, but the yellow in his teeth did. You knew he could very well take better care of his hygiene. “What do you need? Clothes, perfume?”.

“Ouch! Kitty’s got claws”, he brought a hand to his chest, pretending to be hurt, and you realized his fingers were more necrotic, too. “I’d like that, yes, but I’d enjoy vials and a nice warm bath much more. Present company invited, but not required”. 

You walked from behind the counter, bringing yourself closer to him. He looked more tired than usual, also restless. His eyes scanned your body from head to toe, taking a little longer in some place. You crossed your arms in front of you, letting him look. As you well knew, customers liked pretty things. 

He took a deep sniff, and his eyes rested on your stomach. 

“You smell like a Christmas dinner, darling”, he took several steps closer, moving faster than you could. What he didn’t know was that, while you cleaned the counter, you got your pistol. Now, that pistol was aiming towards him. 

“You’re acting weird, friend”, if the years had taught you anything, it was to ever trust people, and never rely on the sanity of a ghoul. Even if it was the Ghoul.

He receded, arms up in surrender. “I wasn’t gonna hurt you, gorgeous”, he tilted his head, “I never have”. 

In the many years your paths crossed, he had been a friend, a customer, and sometimes a lover. He never let you please him, barely let you kiss him, but he enjoyed laying you on the bed like a meal and eating you out for as long as he could. This dinner comment of his wouldn’t have alarmed you, but paired with the shifting eyes and the appearance he had on today, you knew there was something wrong. 

“Took me a delicious vial some hours ago, sweetheart”, he spoke calmly, and you realized he understood. In your mind, at least, he saw the roughness in you and understood it. After all, he too had to compromise morals in order to prevail in a batshit world. You liked that he would make you feel understood, even if only for a small amount of time. But you liked surviving more, and better safe than sorry was your life motto. 

You lowered the gun. You weren’t even sure it would hurt him at all. “Why are you here?”.

“You always speak so correctly, doll. Enunciating every. single. word”, he took a step to the side, admiring the pieces behind your counter. The Ghoul looked back from his shoulder. “You’re on your period, huh?”

“What the fuck?”

“Us, ghouls”, he passed a finger on the top of the counter, examining his fingertips afterwards, looking for dust that wasn’t there, “we have a heightened sense of smell, and your blood is mighty fine”, he turned fully towards you, the entire length of the counter between you. 

You put the gun on the counter and crossed your arms. He wanted something, and whatever bullshit he thought he had to tell to get there was, quite honestly, just aggravating. 

You were about to repeat the question, why are you here, but you simply opened and closed your mouth. It would be better to call his name, then ask the question, but you didn’t know his name. Ten years, many encounters, countless times saving each other's asses, and you didn’t know his name. He didn’t know yours, but still. 

“Do ghouls bleed?”, you asked, instead, trying to avoid whatever emotions you just tapped into. Out of sight, out of mind.

He tilted his head. “Why, gorgeous, I don’t know where your mind just went. But I’m damn sure this ain’t the question you wanna ask”. 

You always felt anxious around him, for a number of reasons. If he decided you were better off as food, then you were a goner. If he decided he wanted to kill you, also bye-bye. But what if he did that thing he did sometimes, and looked at you with more humanity than any of the people you grew up with? What if he kissed your neck and made you wonder how touching his skin must feel like? The times you and him got physically involved, he was always very distant. Kept his clothes on, even his hat — except for the one time he let you use it. 

He would let you ride his tight, and he would finger you with gloved hands, too. He went down on you sometimes, and it felt incredible. But that was that. No kissing on the lips, no letting you see him unclothed. 

And that made you wonder…

“...did your dick fall off of you, too?”

“What the fuck?”, it was his turn to be shocked.

The words came out before you could even stop then. Both your hands went straight to your mouth, covering it as if you could it back. The Ghoul looked amused and annoyed at the same time. 

“If you want something, sweetheart, all you have to do is ask”. 

“I-I don-n’t, I didn’t m-mean i-it”, your words were incomprehensible as you tried to lighten the mood, mostly for yourself. Embarrassment didn’t suit you. 

He let out a tiny smile, and pointed to a pair of chairs you owned as if he was the owner. “Sit down”.

“You don’t have to…”, you wanted to make him feel comfortable, but you were far too uneasy to do so. Surely, your cheeks were flushed. 

“Just sit down, woman”.

And so you did. It was rare that the Ghoul would want to talk, let alone have an actual conversation. Truth be told, your curiosity got the best of you. 

“Simply put, yes ghouls bleed, yes ghouls have their, uh, genitals, fully intact. But that’s as far as I know, I don’t go around examining private parts in every ghoul I meet”, you both let out a quiet laugh. “Ask away”. 

Your confusion must have been clear on your face, because he followed: “You can ask me something, and I might reply. In return, you’ll give me some vials and food. Sound good?”

It sounded awful. Yet, you found yourself agreeing. You were a business woman, and information went a long, long way. You just had to be very careful and ask only the right questions. Not too personal, not too detached. And he knew all this, which was way starting off was easy, even if you were still a little embarrassed. 

“Does my blood smell that strongly?”

He let out a loud laugh. It was the first time, in all those years he was your acquaintance, he did so, and you thought it sounded lovely. 

“Yes”, he replied, his eyes darkening. Desire or hunger, you would never know. “Yes, it does. But all blood has a very pungent smell, so don’t go getting self-conscious".

“Would you ever kill me?”.

“Yes”, he said without a care in the world. “And I hope that, if it ever came down to my life or yours, you had the balls to shoot me in the head too”.

You nodded, once. 

“If you ever go feral and I find out, would you want me to kill you?”

He nodded, twice.

“I sure hope you’d do an old man a favor and end his miserable life if he ever lost his mind, girl”, again, there it was. That humanity in his eyes. That which would differ him from humans and ghouls. 

It made you all the more anxious as you looked at his fingers, which looked more necrotic than ever. You liked him, you considered him a friendly stranger and that was the worst part. You picked the flask from inside your coat and passed it to him. 

“Do you want to spend the night?”, you said as he took a long sip. 

He put the flask down and smiled, ever the heart-breaker. “Nah, sweetheart, I got some stuff to attend. I will take my stuff, though”. 

Disappointed, but not surprised, you went to the back to pick up the merchandise he needed. When you came back, his head was down on the table that sat in between the chairs you were using, and you rushed next to him. Eyes closed. 

Next to his mouth, some blood stained the table. 

You hit him once, twice. “Hey!”, you called, hoping to elicit some kind of response, but he was out. He wasn’t dead, but he was weak and passed out on your ‘for sale’ furniture.

The Ghoul coughed hardly, more blood coming out of his mouth, as he seemed to come to his senses slowly. He jumped a little, looking scared, and stood up taking you by your throat. 

“What the fuck did you do to me?”

You couldn’t reply even though you tried. He was choking you too hard, and not in a good way. 

He tossed you on the floor, and the impact against the counter hurt and made some things, some glass things, break. You knew your blood was probably everywhere, but you could only bring yourself to look at the Ghoul, your heart aching. 

The look on his face was not one of hatred, it was pure confusion and terror. He saw the bag of goods you had set aside for him, went towards it quickly and picked it up, all while you tried to sit up, mouth bloody and several cuts all over your arms.

He left without even looking back.

[myladysapphire]

My Lady Strong (III)

Aemond had always been protective of his neice, obssessed even, insiting on keeping her sheltered, and purley his, he never let her stray far and following the incident at Driftmark, Aemma was rarley without Aemond as her shadow. How will the kind, sheltered girl fair in the dance of dragons?

word count: 2613

CW: Mentions of death, violence

Fem!oc x Aemond Targeryen can be read as x reader)

Masterlist | series masterlist | previous part | next part

disclamer:  i do not own any of claim any of the A song of ice and  fire characters, all rights belong to GRR MARTIN, all characters are his except for my OC

A/N sorry i haven't posted in a while I've been ill and busy will college, hope you enjoy, I don't really like how this chapter turned out, but next chapter their will be a little time skip

Two months following her and Aemonds betrothal, grief struck Kings Landing.

First was the death of the Strongs, ser Harwin and lord Lynol. Then came the news of her Aunt Leana’s death.

They had travelled to Driftmark for Leana’s funeral, a morbid affair she did not wish to attend, especially after receiving all those nasty looks from her Veleryon kin. Her father had been lost to the world of grief, the death of his sister taking over, and his days spent wallowing in the sea. Her mother was better, though isolated. Focusing all her attention on the new babe.

She, as always, stood beside Aemond, few things had changed between them since their courtship began, Aemonds possessive nature towards her had come out tenfold. Though the general rules of courtship dictated they remain an ‘appropriate distance’ from one another and must always remain accompanied (a fact her septa had constantly reminded her), they instead broke every rule, acting as if they were already wed, they even shared a bed every night (which Aemond insisted had to remain secret), Aemond claiming it was then ‘practising for married life’. Though Aemma was not too sure what the fuss was about. People had begun to treat her like a grown woman, even her mother, acting as if she were not a child who had yet to reach her tenth name day.

She had decided grown-up life seemed incredibly dull, even her lessons changed, now focusing on new responsibilities, such as sewing and running a household.

She hated the whole thing, hated that her lessons with Aemond were now few and far between.

Her brothers had too changed since her betrothal, namely Jace. Though it was more recent, (mainly due to the strong departure and death, why that seemed to greatly affect Jace’s behaviour she was not sure) He had insisted on being her and Aemonds chaperone, though they usually managed to escape him, he would follow them around, breaking them apart whenever they did something ‘improper’, she had begun to refer to him as septa Jace, though not out loud, she even began to think allowing her septa to chaperone them may be better than his company.

Aemond himself didn’t seem to care, he had never liked Jace and seemed to act up more in his presence, becoming more possessive of her, even manhandling her (not that she knew what that was). If she was anyone else perhaps, she would have been worried over his possessive nature, But she did not, she loved it. In truth, there was nothing wrong with it as far as she was aware.

Her mother had been the same. So protective and controlling of her life that it felt right.

With Aemond though it never felt like he was controlling her, she felt it was normal, he would protect her from the mean words and looks from others (not that she knew they were even happening), and he would even take her out of septa lessons were she was being taught ‘nonsense’, an action both her mother and Aemond partook in.

Aemond was a constant presence that she could rely on, he was the one by her side as she heard the news of each of the deaths. He had instantly sought her out after the news of Ser Harwin, she may not have been as close as Jace and Luke were to him, but he had always been there with a kind smile and open arms for her. As for her aunt, she had never met Laena, but her father always told her stories of her, she had wanted to, and now she never would.

Aemond gripped her hand tightly as she sniffed her tears.

“We have nothing in common!” Aegon whined next to them.

She had decided to stand with Aemond and Helena, having had enough of the stares she received from the Velaryons as she stood beside her mothers and brothers. Heleana was on one side, crotched in the dirt playing with some new insect she had discovered, and on the other stood Aegon, already deep in his cups.

“she’s our sister” Aemond reminded, following their betrothal her grandfather saw fit to preserve the Valyrian bloodline once more and betrothed Heleana and Aegon.

“You marry her then!”

“He is to marry me, uncle” Aemma replied, naively, moving to crotch near Heleana “Perhaps he should have betrothed Heleana and Jacaerys, Helena would be a good queen!”

Aemond and Aegon shared a look.

“She is to be your wife, brother, show her some respect”  he replied, choosing to ignore her words. He moved to pull Aemma back up from the ground “You’ll muddy your dress”.

“Heleana already has, what does it matter if I do!” she replied, kneeling, and looking at Helena’s newest bug, “what is that?” she asked, but instead of an answer, she was met with Heleana muttering about a hand and spools of black and green.

“Aemma” she heard her mother call her, pulling her away from the ground and Aemond.

“Mother? What is it?” she asked,

“it is time to bed sweet girl,” her mother spoke, caressing her face.

“But it’s early!” she whined, Aemond would not wish to go to bed yet, she was sure to not find any sleep.

“just go.” Her mother sighed.

Aemma was woken to the sounds of shouts coming from the great hall. The whole family had gathered in the dead of night, the hall was silent when she reached it, her mother comforting her brothers, receiving Alicent’s disapproving stare.

The Hall was split in two, the whole of Driftmark in attendance. On one side stood her mother, brothers, cousins and Veleryon grandparents, on the other her grandsire, Alicent, Heleana and Aegon. Someone was sitting in a chair facing away from them all, maesters surrounding them.

“Muña?” she questioned confused as to what was going on “What happened? Where’s Aemond?”

“Oh, my sweet girl” her mother ran, pulling her to her and her brothers.

“What happened? Where’s Ae-“She was cut off, a sob leaving her mouth as his head popped around the chair. His eye gashed out and his face was swollen.

“Aemond!” she gasped, moving from her mother’s grip, “what happened?” she cried, reaching for his face.

He hissed, pulling back, “They attacked me!” he shouted pointing to her brothers and cousins.

“What! Why?” she sobbed, burying her face in his chest, “why? Why would they do that to you?”

“He attacked Baela” she heard Jace shout back.

“He broke Luke’s nose!”

“He stole my mother’s dragon!”

“ENOUGH!” her grandsire demanded; his anger apparent.

“He was going to kill Jace!”

“I didn’t do anything!” Aemond insisted, pulling Aemma’s face closer into his chest, finding solace in her presence.

“ENOUGH!” her grandsire demanded once again.

“It should be my son telling the tale” Alicent insisted, moving her hand to rub Aemma’s back.

Her grandsire hit his cane to the floor, demanding silence, “Aemond, I will have the truth of what happened, now!”

“What else is there to hear? Your son has been maimed…Her son is responsible”.

“It was a regrettable accident” her mother spoke.

“How was taking his eye an accident?” Aemma questioned, moving her head back to look at her mother, “what could he have possibly done to deserve his eye being taken?” she questioned, glaring at Luke as he shrunk back behind their mother.

Alicent nodded her head, agreeing with Aemma, “The prince Lucerys brought a blade to an ambush. He meant to kill my son!” she insisted, causing Aemma to gasp and continue her teary glare at her brothers.

“It was my sons who were attacked and forced to defend themselves… Vile insults were levied against them” her mother declared.

“What insults?”

Her mother hesitated “The legitimacy of my…son’s birth was put loudly to the question”.

“What?”

Speaking up, Luke said “he called us bastards!” sending her a pleading gaze, trying to prove his innocence, but Aemma only saw his guilt, he took her Aemonds eye, and whatever Aemond did she doubted had cause for his eye to be taken.

Looking at Aemond, she whispered “What’s a bastard?” with confusion written on her face, Aemond only shook his head, guilt shimmering in his eye.

“My sons are in line to inherit the iron throne, your grace. This is the highest of treasons…. Prince Aemond must be Sharpley questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders”.

“He just lost his eye, and you want to… to interrogate him, over an…” Aemma lead off, confusion clear in her tone, but Alicent continued for her.

“Over and insult? My son has lost an eye!”

Her grandsire moved towards Aemond, Aemma was ushered off Aemonds lap, moving to stand near Heleana. “You tell me, boy, where did you hear this lie?” her grandsire demanded.

Alicent was quick to respond, coming to Aemonds defence, (perhaps even her own) “This insult was training yard bluster, it was nothing”. But her grandsire paid no attention to her, only moving to question Aemond again.

where is Ser Laenor, I wonder? The children’s father? Perhaps he might have something to say on the matter.”

“Yes, where is Ser Laenor?”

“he’s at the beach” Aemma interrupted, “ he has not left the sea since we arrived,” she looked around the room, her move gaining some sense of confidence from Aemma’s interruption.

“yes, he nor I could find sleep, we took a walk on the beach, where Laenor chose to remain” Her mother nodded, a smug smile gracing her face as Alicent kissed her teeth.

Her grandsire spoke, stopping Alicent from changing the subject once again “Aemond, look at me. Your king demands an answer. Who spoke these lies to you?”

Aemond shifted his gaze to his mother, “It was Aegon” he answered, moving his gaze to his brother.

“Me?” Aegon asked confused, she had never heard him say it before, then again until today, she had never heard the word at all. And seeing how uncomfortable the word made everyone, it made sense for Aegon, he seemed to thrive on the discomfort of others.

“And you, boy? Where did you hear such calumnies?” her grandsire spat “Aegon! Tell me the truth of it!”

“We know, father. Everyone knows. Just look at them” Aegon sighed, eyes turning to her brothers, Aemma herself was pulled back to Aemond, who hid her from everyone’s gaze.

“This interminable infighting must cease! All of you! We are family! Now make your apologies and show goodwill to one another. Your father, your grandsire, your king demands it.” Her grandsire demanded.

“That is insufficient. Aemond has been damaged, permanently, ‘Good will’ cannot make Aemond whole” Alicent demanded.

“I know Alicent, but I cannot restore an eye,“ a deep sigh left her grandsire.

“No, because it’s been taken!” 

“What would you have me do?”

“There is a debt to be paid. I shall have one of her son’s eyes in return” Alicent declared, gasps filling the hall.

“My dear wife-”

Her eyes watered, her son, their sons’ eye had been taken and he does not seem to care “he is your son, Viserys. Your blood”

“Do not allow your temper to guide your judgment”

“If the king will not seek justice, the queen will. Ser Criston… Bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon.” Alicent ordered.

Luke let out a nervous shout for his mother, moving to hide behind her. 

“he can choose which eye to keep, a privilege he did not grant my son” Alicent spoke, Ser Criston stared down at her, unsure of what to do.

Turing to Ser Cole, her grandsire demanded “You will do no such thing… Stay your hand”.

“No, you are sworn to me!” she shouted at Ser Criston, as he stood unsurely “As your protector, my queen.”

“This matter is finished, do you understand?” her grandsire spoke to Alicent, moving away before declaring “And let it be known, anyone whose tongue dares to question the birth of Princess Rhaenyra’s children should have it removed!”

“Thank you, Father” her mother spoke, relief clear in her tone. But Alicent was enraged and moved towards grabbing the dagger from her grandsire and moved to charge at her mother and Luke.

Shouts filled the hall, trying to get Alicent to stop, but she continued.

“you’ve gone too far” her mother spoke, grabbing Alicent’s arm, preventing the dagger from diving into Luke’s eye.

“i? What have I done but what expected of me? Forever upholding the kingdom, the family, and the law. While you flout all to do as you, please” Alicent spat in reply. “Where is duty? Where is sacrifice? And now you take my son's eye, and to that event, you feel entitled”.

“Exhausting, wasn’t it? Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness” her mother replied, seeing Alicent face drop and her grip on the blade began to loosen. “But now they see you as you truly are,” she said lowly, the dagger slipped from Alicent’s hand, down her mother’s arm, blood dripping to the ground.

“This proceeding is at an end”

Aemma had not left Aemonds side since that night. She took over from the maesters, changing Aemonds bandage, and applying the ointment. She refused to let others near him, to leave him. Even when her mother tried to carry her out of the room herself, she would scream and protest. She only left once her mother came and told them they were leaving.

“I will not” she shook her head, ripped her arm from her mothers “I will not leave him, you can not make me!” she screamed.

“dōna riña” her mother begged, “please, my sweet girl, for me and your brothers they miss you, you will see in in a few years when you are to wed.” her mother sneered the last part, the maids had whispered about how her mother had pleaded with her grandsire to end the engagement, but only a fool would think she herself would let anyone but Aemond be her husband.

“I do not care! Alicent has said I can stay in Kings Landing, in my home, Mother please!” she begged “I cannot leave my Aemond, especially after what they did, stay Muña, please”.

“I cannot, sweet girl, it is for the best” her mother continued.

“For whom? For you? Mayhaps, but for me it will be nothing but pure torture, I will scream if you make me go, I will bring you nothing but hell if you take me there, take me away from MY AEMOND!” She shouted, streams streaming down her face.

She noticed the man then, he had silver hair like her mother’s family, she remembered who he was then, Aemond had mentioned him, their uncle Daemon, rider of Caraxes. He stood against the wall, his lip quirked and laughter leaving his lips, “leave her, let the Hightower cunts have her” he spoke up.

“Do not-“ her mother began, a sigh leaving her lips. She looked at Aemma, defeat filling her features, “Please, sweet girl, please”

“I won’t, I can’t leave him, Muña”.

Her mother sighed “ok, but if you ever, and I mean if for a second, a minute second, wish to come to Dragonstone, come. You are my daughter, my dōna riña, and you always will be my favourite girl” tears filled her mother’s eyes.

“of course, Muña, I love you” she whispered the last part, looking down “I’m sorry, I’ll miss you”.

“I love you too, I’ll miss you, sweet girl, I’ll visit whenever you ask” her mother promised.

Though that would soon become a lie, as Aemma would not see her mother for years to come.

next part

Taglist (bold means could not tag)

My lady strong: @aemondssiut @idonotknowenglish @sydneyyyya @wondergal2001 @whitejuliana1204 @meowtastick @bellaisasleep @tinykryptonitewerewolf @sarahkimtae @winchesterfamiliebusiness @iiamthehybrid @zzz000eee @spookydaddy01 @melllinaa @ateliefloresdaprimavera @aelora-a @aleemendoza2425-blog @chittakii @gghoulzz @ryiana @duckworthbean @cynic-spirit @may-machin @Gianinaa19

Hotd: @targaryenmoony @theanxietyqueen17

Aemond: @blossomedflowerofluv @violet-potter

[pastshadows]

Shadows of the Past

Chapter 1: Abandonment

Summary: After a year of blissful cohabitation, Astarion disappears without a trace, leaving behind a heartfelt letter explaining his departure. Determined to find him, you traverse Faerûn in search of your lost love, only to realize that some absences are meant to be permanent.

Returning to Waterdeep, you find solace in the company of Gale as you come to terms with Astarion's absence. But just as you begin to heal, Astarion reappears, begging for a second chance at love.

The question looms: can you forgive his abandonment and trust him once more? As you grapple with your emotions and trauma, a sinister force lurks in the shadows, targeting you for unknown reasons.

With danger closing in, you must navigate the treacherous waters of trust, love, and betrayal to uncover the truth behind the mysterious entity's motives. Will you be able to reunite with Astarion while facing the demons of your past? Can you unravel the secrets that threaten your very existence?

Setting: Post End-Game. Mostly canon compliant.

Word Count: 6.3K

Content: Explicit - intended for mature audiences.

Warnings: [Additional tags will be added, but expect mature content / read at your own risk.

Spoilers. Mentions of in-game missable content. Violence. Longing. Sexual themes. Blood drinking. Angst. Innuendos. High use of sarcasm. Completely fabricated camp interactions.

Astarion parts your legs with his knee and lowers his lips to yours in a hungry kiss. Your hand sweeps gently up the creamy skin of his side, and you revel in its familiar chill. The tips of your fingers gently brush the edges of the raised scars on his back.  

Astarion stills under your touch at once, his muscles going taught as he clenches his jaw. 

Fuck. 

You pull back to look at him. His eyes are squeezed tightly closed, and his brows knit together in a pained grimace. 

“Astarion?”  

He sighs, “I’m sorry.”  

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Too much for today?”  

“Yes,” he whispers as shifts from his position between your thighs, sitting upright on the bed. 

He runs his fingers through the silvery curls of his hair, frustrated. It breaks your heart every time seeing him like this.  

“Hey, look at me.”  

He glances back at you. Despair swirls in his crimson eyes. His mouth is set in a hard line.  

“It’s okay.” 

He shakes his head. His voice shakes with frustration, “But I want this, want you, all of you.”  

You sit up and position yourself beside him but take care not to touch him.  

“I know. Sometimes what we want doesn’t always align with what we need.”  

He groans with a small smile tugging at his lips, “Stop being so nice to me.” 

You giggle, “Why? Because it makes you want to be nice back?”  

He smirks at the shared memory, “Precisely, my dear.”  

His arm wraps around you, pulling you close up against him.  

Laying your head on his shoulder, you take a deep breath and let your eyes drift closed, enjoying the intimacy.  

This was an ongoing battle that you doubted would be won anytime soon if it ever could be. Astarion’s trauma still hooked its greedy claws into him. He would often initiate but would freeze up under your touch before you could make love.  

“I could try…” he trails off.  

You know what he’s going to offer. He always did.  

“No, you beautiful, beautiful fool. That’s enough for today, but I will accept cuddles… if you’re up for it.”  

He chuckles and lays back, resting his head on the feather pillow.  

“Come here, darling.”  

You cuddle up beside him, laying your head gently in the crook of his arm. He plants a soft kiss on your forehead.  

When you look up at him, he looks a million miles away, staring at the ceiling blankly, losing himself in his thoughts.  

You feel an odd unease tighten in your stomach. This happens regularly. Usually, your supportive words are enough to bring him back, but this time feels different somehow.  

He breaks the silence with a desolate whisper, “Do you think I will ever get better?” 

His desolate tone is heart-wrenching. You’ve got the feeling that he believes he may be irreparably broken from discussions you and him have had.   

You plant a light kiss on his chest. Propping yourself up on your arm, you reach and cradle his face in your palm. His eyes drift from the ceiling down to you.  

“You’re not broken, Astarion. We will get through this. Give it time.”  

He nuzzles his face into your palm, seeking the comfort of your touch.  

“I have an eternity, but your time is finite.”  

You scoff at him. You’re a High Elf, just like him, and although 750 years may not be infinite like his, you have centuries to either find a cure for him or extend your life further. He’s well aware of this, but lately, he has been overly focused on the fact that you will die eventually.  

“Exactly how old do you presume me to be, Astarion?” 

It dawns on you that he never actually asked how old you were. For all he knew, half of your life was already over.  

“Last time I checked, it was considered impolite to ask a lady her age.” 

You can’t help yourself, and you burst out laughing. After all the things you two had been through together, and he thinks asking your age is going to, what, offend you? 

Ridiculous man. 

The expression on his face is a mixture of shock and puzzlement. His eyebrow is cocked up, and he stares at you quizzically.  

“What’s so funny?”  

You smirk, “My love, we have enraged and killed Gods, fought countless fiends, demons and devils, and felled a Netherbrain together, and you worry that you, my partner, my soul mate, my everything, asking my age is impolite?”  

He grins, “Well… when you put it like that, I suppose it does seem a little ridiculous.” 

“I have many centuries ahead of me, and I will spend them all with you, I hope.”  

Astarion smiles, but there is something hidden in that smile, and it brings back the uneasy feeling you felt before. You can't quite place what it is. 

Astarion grabs your hands and holds them, his thumbs caressing them comfortingly.  

“I love you, and I will love you forever. You know that, right?”  

There’s an odd urgency straining his voice as if he needs to know that you know this. That uneasy feeling blooms into pure anxiety at the urgency in his voice, the look in his eyes and even the smile on his face. Something feels wrong.  

“Tell me what’s going on, Astarion. You’re starting to scare me.” 

“Don’t be scared, my sweet. I just want you to know that I love you, now and forevermore.”  

Your heart races inside your chest. Your stomach is in knots. Your whole body is screaming at you that something isn’t right.  

You look at him and search his face for any signs that something is amiss, but you can’t see anything. He looks relaxed, if a little sad, but that isn’t unusual after he couldn’t perform.  

“Shhhh, my love.” he purrs, “everything is fine.”  

He rubs your back and kisses your shoulder softly, trying to comfort you. You lean into him.  

“Astarion…”  

“It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay.” he says in a low whisper close to your ear.  

“Come, my love. Let’s lay down for a while until night falls. Once you fall asleep, I’ll slip out to go hunting.” 

You lay back down with him, putting your head on his chest.  

For some strange reason, be it due to your anxiety or his strange behaviour, you desperately don’t want him to go hunting, not tonight.  

“You could feed on me tonight if you want?”  

“As tempting an offer as that is, there is no need. There are plenty of animals in the forest.”  

“I know, but you still could.” 

You don’t even know why you’re pushing this so hard, but something deep down in you is frantic to keep him close.  

“Not tonight, darling.” 

He uses the same tone he used with that vile blood merchant at Moonrise, and you know better than to push it any further.  

You try to relax back into him, but your body is buzzing with an anxiety you have not felt in some time. If only you could place it…  

Astarion starts to hum your favourite tune low in his throat as he always did when you were feeling anxious while rubbing your arm with his fingers. 

You slowly drift into a troubled trance.  

When you wake up the next morning, Astarion is nowhere to be found. You had felt him leave to go hunting, but he never returned.  

Did he get caught by someone or something? Did the sunrise take him by surprise, and he found someplace to wait it out?  

He is always home well before the sun starts to creep over the horizon.  

This was entirely unusual. He always returned and crawled back into bed with you.  

Leaping out of bed, you throw your robe on and glance out the door. The day is cloudy and cool, and you can smell the rain. In a frantic rush, you throw your boots on and start toward the forest you know he goes hunting in most. 

You wander the forest, calling out to him, but there are no traces of him. No dead carrion, no footprints, no signs of a struggle - just nothing. Your heart is hammering in your tightening chest, and you search frantically for anything that could lead you to him.  

You spend the entire day wandering the forests. Even when the rain starts to pour down on you, leaving you soaked and freezing, you endure.  

The darkness of night envelops the land, and you return home utterly exhausted, hoping to find him there safe and sound.  

You open the door, and the little house is as dark, quiet and as empty as you left it.  

You start a fire in the large stone fireplace and stand there to warm your frozen body.  

Where could he have gone? Why did he go? What did I do? 

You look around the little place you had shared with him for over a year.  

It looks so empty without him…  

A yellow-tinged envelope catches your eye, sitting on your bedside table. You must have missed it in your rush to go find him this morning.  

Picking it up, a sense of dread fills you. It smells of rosemary, bergamot, and brandy. Your hands shake as they open the letter, and you slip out the neatly folded piece of paper.  

Placing the envelope down, you sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the folded letter. You pray that this isn’t what you think it is, but a part of you knows it’s precisely what you fear.  

Your trembling hands have trouble unfolding the parchment. It’s written in a beautiful hand. 

“My Dearest Love,  

My only one, I’m sorry it had to be this way. I knew I would never have the strength to say goodbye to you in person, to look into your eyes and see the hurt I’d caused. I am a coward, as I always have been.  

I believe being with me is holding you back from the beautiful life and love you deserve; one I am unable to provide for you.  

I love you too much to keep dragging you down into the dark.  

I hope you can forgive me one day.  

You made my dead heart beat anew. I could never forget you.  

I love you now and forevermore.

Love always,

Astarion"

Tears slide down your reddened face and drip onto the parchment in your hand. Once you’re finished reading it, it slips from your fingers and floats to the floor.  

He left me… 

You curl up on the bed you had shared with him for years, breathing the scent of him that lingered on the sheets. Violent sobs wrack your body as your heart is torn asunder.  

How could he do this…  

You cry until your body can’t produce any more tears, and you finally drift into a grief-stricken sleep.  

In the morning, you look around the little house you shared with him and realize that he had taken some of his belongings but not all of them.  

How long had he been playing this?  

Your once cozy home now feels cold, empty and claustrophobic. The walls feel like they are closing in on you.  

What am I going to do? 

You stay in that little house for a couple of weeks, hoping Astarion will change his mind and come back to you.  

A useless fantasy  

He never returns, but you never expected him to.  

You had spent every night over the last several weeks wandering the forest surrounding the area, checking his favourite hunting spots.  

In the city, you had tried searching for him in the taverns, the hostels, the flophouses, everywhere you could think of. You even followed the roads until sunrise, hoping you might bump into him.  

In truth, you knew that you would never find him if he didn’t want you to, but you had to try at least.  

You spend the next years searching for him in every place you can think of.  

You search Baldur’s Gate and all his regular haunts. 

You go back to the Underdark to see if he went there. He had talked about helping the other spawn at one point, but his siblings tell you they haven’t seen him. You even use Detect Thoughts covertly to see if they are lying to you, just in case.  

You return to the Grove even though you know it’s a long shot. He wasn’t ever fond of that place.  

You even search old camping spots he was particularly fond of. You doubted he would return to sleeping on the ground, but you tried anyway.  

You find nothing, of course. It was as if he just disappeared from existence entirely. 

Eventually, all hope fades away, and you are forced to face the fact that he’s gone and he’s not coming back.  

Not knowing where else to turn, you decide to go to Waterdeep, where Gale has kindly offered that you stay with him for as long as you need to.  

You start a new life there, as best you can.  

Months Later 

“Good morning! Can I offer you some tea?”  

Gale’s overly chipper tone in the morning makes you cringe inwardly.

How could someone be this happy in the morning? 

“Yes, please.”  

You rub your tired eyes, yawning.  

“Splendid!” 

Gale places a steaming mug of herbal tea on the table, and you take it in your hands, enjoying the warmth.  

“You look tired, my friend. Are nightmares still troubling you?”  

Your rest is plagued by constant, unforgiving nightmares that often wake you up screaming into the dead of night.  

“I’m fine. If I keep you up at night, I could move to a room further away?”  

Gale’s manor was grand, of course. It had more rooms than you cared to count and all the luxuries you could ever want. Despite that, this never felt like home, even after all this time.  

“There’s no need. I’m usually awake, nose buried in a good book. At least it is nothing like Wyll’s snoring. Gods.”  

You both laugh at that. Wyll had snored so loud some nights that you were worried Astarion would kill him just for some peace and quiet.  

“So, what’s on the docket for today?”  

“Oh, I’m going to go out into the city to meet some friends.”  

“That sounds like a lovely idea! I’m glad you’re making friends. I’d love to meet them.” Gale’s grins happily.  

“Of course, um, one day, okay?” 

“I can host a grand dinner and make them my signature dish!”  

You almost choke on your tea. Gale tried, but most of his cooking was… lacklustre.  

“I better go get ready then. Thank you for the tea.” 

Returning to your room, you slip into a clean robe and pull on your boots before heading down the long, winding staircase.  

Gale is waiting at the bottom of the stairs, “will you be home in time for dinner?”  

“Oh, no, probably not. Don’t wait for me.”  

“Be careful out there at night, this isn’t Baldur’s Gate, but it’s not exactly safe either,” he warns with a worried look.  

You want to roll your eyes at him but stop yourself. Did he think you couldn’t take care of yourself? You had spent years roaming Faerûn looking for Astarion by yourself and only returned with a handful of new scars.  

Well, ones he can see anyway.  

“I’ll be careful, Gale. Thank you.”  

With that, you slip out of the door into the air, chilled by the breeze coming off the sea. It was truly beautiful here… if only you could appreciate it.  

You walk briskly through the busy city streets, wanting to leave them behind you as quickly as possible. Waterdeep was a busy city, and people already packed the thoroughfare going about their days.  

You had spent so much time by yourself during your years searching for Astation that you had become accustomed to being alone. You were still trying to acclimatize to city life again.  

Stopping at a small tavern, you buy yourself some wine.  

Probably not the healthiest way to deal with my issues...  

Near the outskirts of the city, you see the familiar little path that you walk almost every day. It took you to a beautiful lookout point that no one seemed to visit. It was your favourite place to be alone.  

The wealthy of this city don’t want to ruin their fine boots, I suppose.  

You sit on the edge of the cliff face, letting your legs hang over precariously.  

What am I going to do about Gale wanting to meet these “friends” of mine  

Truthfully, you’d made up these “friends” so you could get some time alone. Gale was your friend, and you enjoyed his company, but he could be overattentive at times.  

The silence up here was as beautiful as the views. The noises of the city were left behind, and only the soft winds blowing through the trees could be heard. 

You uncork one of the bottles and drink straight from it. You had no; how did Gale put it - ah yes, decorum.  

You spend the entire day sitting up there, drowning your heartache in the only elixir that could lessen the pain in your chest and numb the void in your soul.  

I can’t believe it’s been years. 

You often think about the time you spent together, replaying it over and over, analyzing every interaction, every word, every touch. 

What did I do wrong? Was it something I said? Something I did? Something I didn’t do? Something I didn’t say?  

Tears fall from your eyes at the memories, and you wipe them away with the back of your hand.  

I thought we were happy. 

You watch the light of day slowly fade as the sun drops below the horizon, blanketing the city in the dullness of night. 

I guess I should go back.  

You stumble your way down the steep path. 

Perhaps I had too much today.  

Reaching the city, you walk through the now slightly less busy streets. Much of the throngs of people have retired to their homes or, more likely, the taverns of the city. You hear vivacious laughter from some of the taphouses, signaling the end of another day.  

A light breeze stirs, and you faintly catch the scent of rosemary and bergamot. Even in the wine’s blissfully numbing embrace, your heart clenches and leaps in your chest.  

You look around in every direction, but no one and nothing stands out.  

You sigh, chiding your heart, telling it to stop flip-flopping around in your chest. 

It isn’t him. It will never be him again. 

You continue walking, but every time the breeze stirs, that smell of rosemary and bergamot drifts with it.  

Great, now the very Gods themselves are fucking with me. 

You can’t help but stop to look around again. You make sure to pay extra attention to dark corners and alleys, but you see nothing out of the ordinary.  

Or perhaps, I’m just going crazy. 

You shake your head and laugh at yourself for being so foolish, but another tear escapes your eye and glides slowly down your cheek.  

Rounding a corner into a dimly lit corridor, you come face to face with a group of people looking particularly dishevelled. Their eyes slither over you repulsively.  

“Well, well, what do we have here? A little lady, all lost and alone?”  

Excellent. This is just what I need today - a mugging. 

“Don’t be scared; no one has to get hurt here. Just give us your coin, and we will be on our way. Won’t we, lads?”   

Foul, yellow-stained toothy grins split across the faces of the others malevolently.  

They each draw small blades, so small you would hardly call them daggers. You very nearly laugh at their pathetic excuse for weapons.  

The citizens of Waterdeep must be easy to scare; fortunately, I am not.  

Grasping the weave, you turn, but before you can even get a cantrip playing on your fingertips, you hear a familiar voice.  

“Touch her and die.”  

No… it can’t possibly be. 

The group of dishevelled people look around wildly, trying to find the source of that voice.  

One of them steps forward threateningly, “Trying to play tricks on us, sorcerer? We aren’t so easily spooked.”  

Your eyes search the rooftops surrounding the corridor. If he were to be anywhere, it would be there. You don’t see anything at first, but you catch a glimpse of movement and faintly make out a figure moving over the roofs shrouded in darkness.  

Stepping closer, with that sad excuse for a dagger pointed at you, the man growls, “Your coin. Now. We won’t ask nicely again, little lady.”  

Astarion jumps down in front of you with his blades drawn.  

“Final warning. Try to touch her and die.”  

You’re speechless, just staring at the back of his head in bewilderment. 

How much did I have to drink today? Am I hallucinating?  

The group sizes Astarion up, no doubt wondering if all 5 of them could take on 1 of him.  

With a shake of your head, you finally regain some of your composure and stand next to Astarion with a fireball playing on your fingertips.  

“Do they dare?” he whispers only loud enough for you to hear.  

“I kind of wish they would,” you whisper back, but lower knowing his hearing is much better than your own.  

He chuckles under his breath.  

They stare at you with your fire, and the look at their weapons compared to Astarion’s, gawking at them before they bolt off as if the fires of the Hells themselves were licking at their ankles, leaving you and Astarion standing there laughing.  

The laughter falls away abruptly and is replaced by abashed crimson eyes as he turns toward you.  

“Astarion?”  

You reach out to him, needing to be sure this isn’t a hallucination brought on by your sleep deprivation or just another dream.  

He gently takes your hand in his and plants a soft kiss on the back. The bracing chill of his skin sends a shiver running up your spine.  

“Yes, darling. It’s me.” 

Your temper ignites, rage flashes through you like wildfire, and you shove him hard. 

“You left me!” 

Your lower lip quivers. Tears immediately flood your eyes and spill down your reddened cheeks in small streams.  

The corners of his mouth draw downwards, and remorse saturates his expression. 

“I know.” 

Your chest feels tight as if your lungs are constricting around your wildly beating heart, and you swallow the lump rising in your throat.  

“What did I do wrong?” Your voice shakes.  

His eyebrows pop upwards, creasing his forehead and his eyes round in shock.  

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”  

“Then why?!”  

Bringing his hand to the back of his neck, he sighs, “I thought… I thought it was for the best.”  

“For who?” 

You know the answer, but you want to hear him say it.  

“You.” 

Indignation reignites the raging wildfire, and you shoot him a smouldering glower. 

“Fuck you, Astarion! What gave you the right to decide what’s best for me?” 

“You’re right.”  

His admittance catches you off guard. The repentant tone of his voice washes over you like a wave, quelling the fiery rage burning through your veins.  

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, filling your lungs with the brisk air, trying to rein in your emotions.  

Exhaling slowly through your mouth, you meet his gaze again, “Why are you here, Astarion?”  

He shuffles his feet, “I’ve been looking for you.” 

You scoff, “Why? Why now?”  

He rubs his hands together, “If you are willing to hear me out, I would like to… talk.” he glances away from you, unsure of himself, “I understand if you don’t want to. If you never wish to see me again, say the word, and you will never have to lay eyes on me again.” 

“Not tonight.”  

“Of course, whenever you want to. I’m staying at an inn on the edge of town called Golden Harp Inn, room 2.”  

“I’ll think about it. Goodbye, Astarion.”  

You turn away from him, squeezing your eyes shut, biting your lower lip, fighting the urge to cry.  

“Would you allow me to walk you home?”  

Your eyelashes sweep up as you look to the heavens, exasperated.  

“Are you going to follow me regardless?”  

He chuckles, “Probably, but I’ll be eminently more discreet about it.”  

“You know I can take care of myself, right?” 

“Of course, darling. I’m well aware you can burn anyone you wish to ash, or worse.” 

A small smile pulls the corner of his mouth upward, and his fangs just barely peek out of his lips.  

That damn smile tugs at your heart strings as it always did.  

Gods, I’ve missed him.  

You roll your eyes, “Fine.”  

“Lead on.”  

You walk together in an awkward silence. His trained eyes observe the surroundings, instinctively searching for dangers lurking in the murky gloom. You’re thankful when you reach Gale’s grandiose manor.  

Astarion looks up at the tower reaching high into the sky, clearly impressed.  

“You live here?”  

“This is Gale’s Manor. I’ve been staying here with him.” 

A forlorn look passes over his face, and he looks down at the ground.  

“I see,” his eyebrow cocks inquisitively but regains his confident composure quickly, “I hope to see you soon. Goodnight, my dear.”  

With no further ado, he strides away and disappears into the twilight like a ghost. 

What in the Nine Hells am I going to do? 

You give your head a quick shake, trying to dislodge your whirling thoughts.  

The manor is dark when you enter, with only a few flickering candles strewn about in various places. 

You tiptoe up to your way up to your room, close and lock the large door, and slowly sink to the ground, wrapping your arms around your knees.  

You let the sorrow you feel consume you, and you sob inconsolably.  

You awake with a start and find yourself on the floor where you had sunk to and cried yourself into some semblance of a trance.  

Pushing yourself to your feet, you look at yourself in the mirror hanging on the opulently wallpapered wall. Your eyes are bloodshot and swollen with dark bags stretching out under your eyes. You groan at your reflection.  

Great. 

Slipping into a clean robe, you make your way downstairs. Glancing out the tall window, you surmise that dawn had barely broken the horizon. The sun sits low, split in half by the bay. The golden light is just starting to brighten the dark sky.  

Sighing, you make yourself some tea and sit on the terrace. The steaming hot cup warms your hands, providing a sense of comfort.  

What in the Hells am I going to do? 

You hadn't been able to think about it last night, consumed by grief. The voice in your head screams at you. Your intuition wails desperately at you that you should probably ask him to leave and never return. He broke you once, and you still haven’t recovered from his sudden disappearance. Unfortunately, what you know and what you want are constantly at war with each other.  

I don’t want him to go.  

Whether you liked it or not, your heart still belonged to him, and somehow, you knew it always would.  

Gale’s voice breaches the serene silence of the emerging dawn.  

“You’re up early this morning.” 

Startled, you jump, and your tea spills into your lap.  

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He says as he grabs a towel from the kitchen and hands it to you.  

Taking the towel, you wipe your lap, “It’s okay. I was just lost in my thoughts.”  

“Care to share what’s on your mind? Perhaps I could be of some assistance or provide a friendly ear.” 

Should I tell him about Astarion?  

You know you should. Gale was your friend, after all. You had quite literally been through hell and back together. He could help you sort out this mess you found yourself in if only you would let him in.  

For some reason, you feel the desperate need to keep Astarion’s resurgence to yourself.  

“No, it’s just my nightmares again.” 

You feel an immediate gush of insurmountable guilt. The lie slips out of your mouth skillfully, much too easily for your comfort, but you’re not ready to share Astarion just yet, not until you figure out why he is here and what he wants from you.  

“I’m going to go for a walk. I need to clear my head. Do you need me to pick anything up while I’m out?”  

Gale shrugs his shoulder, “No, no. There’s no need to trouble yourself. Enjoy your walk.” 

The early morning air is colder than you had prepared for, and you shiver slightly. You spend the day aimlessly wandering around the city, lost in your thoughts of Astarion.  

What could he possibly want now? How long had he been looking for you? How did he know you were in Waterdeep?  

You had so many questions that only he could answer.  

The day passes in a blur, and before you know it, you’re standing outside the Golden Harp Inn as the sun starts to dip below the horizon.  

You stand outside the inn in a paralyzing apprehension. An inquisitory voice penetrates your thoughts, breaking you out of them.   

“Can I help you?”  

Your eyes drift from the worn sign of the tavern and meet the woman's anticipatory glare.  

How long have I been standing out here? 

You shake your head, “Sorry. I’m looking for someone who might be staying here.” 

Her brows raise in a suspicious glower, “And you’re looking for them outside?”  

It was a fair question.  

You plaster on the most innocent grin you can muster. “No, I just, uh... I wasn’t sure I had the right place, is all.”  

She gives you a curt nod, “Well, why don’t you describe who you are looking for? I know all of my patrons.”  

Your mouth quirks up in a half smile.  

How do I describe him? 

“Elf, extremely pale, obnoxiously smart mouth.”  

“Oh, him,” she rolls her eyes hard, “he’s in room 2. Up the stairs, second door on your right.” she hesitates, judging you, “Be careful around that one, dear. He looks like he breaks hearts left and right.”  

Gods, you have no idea. 

You nod in appreciation, “Thank you.”  

As you walk up the creaking staircase, your body trembles in anxious anticipation. You take deep breaths, trying to steady the untamed beating of your heart.  

You warily eye the wooden door with the tarnished bronze #2 nailed precariously onto it, but you hesitate to knock.  

Do I want to do this? 

A muffled voice rings out from behind the closed door.  

“I can hear you breathing, you know.”  

Fuck. 

Astarion opens the door and gives you a shallow bow, inviting you in.

“How did you know it was me breathing? It could have been anyone.” 

He chuckles, “I can also smell your delectable blood, and I would recognize that scent anywhere.”  

Of course, how could I forget that?  

You bolster yourself, puffing out your chest in a silly attempt to appear more confident than you’re feeling.  

“Well, I’m here. What did you want to talk to me about?” 

“Straight to business, I see?” 

You scowl at him in a warning, “Astarion.”  

“Okay, darling. Okay.”  

He stares at your with an eyebrow cocked, “Are you cold?”  

“No.”  

He rolls his eyes exasperatedly, “You’re shivering, my dear.”  

Am I? 

“Here.” he drapes a blanket around your shoulders, pulling it tight in front of you, “better?”  

He’s standing close to you, and you inhale his comforting scent. He smells like the home you’ve been yearning to come back to.  

“Better.”  

He smiles, “Good.” He pauses, rubbing his hands together, “You… you might want to sit for this.” 

Your stomach leaps into your throat, and your heart rate spikes further. What in the hell was he doing to say to you that he thought you should be sitting for? Was he about to ask you to come to his wedding? Tell you about his new lover? Ask you to kill him?  

What heartbreak am I going to befall this time? I shouldn’t have come. 

He reaches out and squeezes your arm in a comforting gesture, “Easy, darling.”  

“What?”  

“I can hear your heart beating a million miles a minute.”  

You huff. You never could hide anything from him. He could read you like a favourite book.   

“Just spill it, Astarion. Stop stalling.”  

He glances away from you nervously, “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to sit?”  

“No, I don’t want to sit.”  

He sighs, “Okay, suit yourself.”  

He runs his fingers through his hair, and you can see the unease he feels on his face. His usually confident demeanour is nowhere to be seen. He looks unsure of himself for the first time since you were walking into the Szarr Palace intending to kill his master.  

He clears his throat and walks towards you. His gaze meets yours with an intensity that makes you gasp.  

“I’ve been looking for you for a while. You’re incredibly hard to track down.” 

You interrupt him, “How long?”  

“Over a year.”  

You would have been looking for him at the same time he was looking for you at one point. 

He takes a small step toward you, “I came here to tell you… I… I want to be with you, but I didn’t realize you had moved on with…” he cringes, “Gale.”  

A sad, fake smile spreads across his face, “Perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised. He always did have feelings for you, and he can give you all the things I can’t, all the things you deserve.”  

You walk over to the chair, plunge yourself down into it, and start to laugh hysterically.  

Astarion doesn’t look amused, but he sits on the side of the bed opposite you, looking at you like you might be cursed.  

“I’m sorry,” you manage to squeeze out between giggles, “I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing at your assumptions.” 

“Care to elaborate, darling?”  

“Gale and I are not together, Astarion.”  

His eyebrow cocks, “But you’re living with him?”  

“I had nowhere else to go when you left… I couldn’t stay in our little house. You were everywhere and nowhere, and it hurt.”

Those vibrant scarlet irises glance away from you momentarily.  

He meets your eyes again, “So you’re not together?”  

You shake your head, stifling another giggle, “Absolutely not.”  

With a wide, relieved grin, he says, “This conversation has just become much more pleasant.” 

If only it were that simple.  

“I don’t know if I can be with you again, Astarion.”  

No matter how much I want to. 

You suddenly feel uncomfortably hot and rise from the chair, shrugging off the blanket.  

“What do you mean you want to be with me?”  

“I want you, all of you. Without you, life is hardly worth living. The last years taught me that.”  

You’re pacing around the small room now. Astarion’s eyes follow your movement keenly.  

“And you thought you could just show up, and I’d what? Welcome you back with open arms?”  

A chuckle rumbles deep in his chest, “A man can hope, but no.” his eyes meet yours with a humility you haven’t seen before, “I expected you to tell me to leave, or quite possibly burn me to ash, but here you are.”  he pauses, “I’m sorry I left.”  

You stop rapidly pacing the room and meet his eyes sadly, “I’m sorry you felt like you had to leave instead of just talking to me.”  

He huffs, “Oh, come off. You were amazing.”  

Tears brim in your eyes, “Then why did you leave me, Astarion?”  

“I…,” he steps so close that he’s almost touching you and wipes the tears escaping your eyes with his thumb, “I was afraid.”  

“Afraid of what? Me?” 

“Gods, no.” he hisses, “You’re the only person I’ve ever truly cared for. Have you truly spent the last couple of years thinking I left because of you?”  

“What else was I supposed to think?”  

His face softens, “Oh, my love. I’m so sorry.”  

Astarion wraps his arms around you in a tight hug. It takes you a minute, but you finally allow yourself to melt into him, pressing yourself hard against him. Your shoulders slump and shake with sobs.

When he finally releases you, you look up at him and are surprised to see tears running down his pale cheeks.  

Instinctively, you reach up and wipe them away with the back of your hand, “Don’t cry, Astarion.”  

He chuckles at you, amused, as he uses his thumb to wipe your tears away.  

“Don’t cry, my love,” he whispers. 

One of your hands still grasps a handful of his shirt. You’re scared that if you release him, he will disappear, and this will all be a dream. 

“I was afraid.”  

His words echo in the expanse of your mind.  

“Why were you afraid?” 

He brushes the hair out of your face tenderly and cradles your face with his palm. You press your face harder into his cool touch, your lips grazing his smooth skin.

He is home. 

“I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to give you the life you deserve,” his voice lowers to a whisper, “the love you deserve.”  

You scoff at him, “A life with you is all I wanted, Astarion.”  

Astarion tilts your head so that your eyes meet his searching crimson gaze. His face is relaxed, and you see no signs of that mask he sometimes wore.  

“Do you still want it? Me?”  

His lips ghost over yours, making your eyes flutter closed.  

“I could never stop loving you.” 

He clicks his tongue, “That’s not an answer.”  

“I’m afraid, Astarion.” 

“Of what?” 

“I’m afraid you will leave again when things get hard or uncomfortable. I won’t survive losing you twice.” you stare back at him with suffocating trepidation, “Perhaps we can be friends… for now.”  

You can almost taste the sorrow infecting his red eyes, but he smiles anyway, “Friends. Yes… yes, I can do that.” 

Thank you to all those who read/like/comment/follow/reblog/etc. I'm forever thankful for the support.

Chapters Master List - Shadows of the Past

AO3: Crossposted

If you're interested, I also write fanfic for Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav - Fangs and Fractured Hearts

[clone-anon-after-dark]

More (Hunter x f!Reader)

This was requested by @kombatkid and it's a bit of a departure from my usual writing style since we jump right into it.

Word Count: 363

Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI, Hunter and reader both have a voice kink for each other, unprotected PiV, little bit of praise and oral (reader receiving)

A/N: established relationship. Sorry I don't have the spoons to proofread this, but I hope it's okay.

Your head rolled back as Hunter pressed his tongue to your clit before tracing circles over it. You let out a silky moan that left him even harder. One arm held you firmly in place while he lapped you up and filled his senses with nothing but you. He paused, gazing up at you and smirking with a low hum. You wanted to scoff at his smug face, but couldn't help but smile softly with a "more." He could feel the vibrations of your tone dancing along his ear and he obeyed, nuzzling your clit with his nose before gently sucking some more. He had teased you long enough and nearly came at the delicious gasp that left your lips as his fingers slipped inside you. In no time you were moaning his name while he sent you over the edge, still holding your cunt to his mouth until you started to come down from your high.

You reached down and he crawled up the bed. The murmur stuck in your throat while he kissed your lips left his cock twitching.

"You need to be taken care of?" you asked with soft playfulness.

"Mm hmm."

You couldn't hide the sharp intake of breath you felt as he entered you with a beautiful moan of his own. He didn't waste any time. Your head fell back and all you knew was his body, his scent, his voice. He closed his eyes, blocking out one sense so that he could better appreciate the others. Every little noise that left your lips. Every noise your pussy made while he fucked you. The smell of your shampoo mingled with light sweat. The taste of you still on his lips.

He kissed your earlobe and whispered, "I want you to come again. Can you do that for me?"

"Hunter..."

"I know you can." He kissed your cheek and adjusted the angle of his hips, diving deeper inside you. It was all you needed to soar again.

"So good for me," he said, his eyes now open and watching you come.

"Hunter," you gasped.

He kissed you firmly, lovingly, as he filled you, completely and perfectly overwhelmed by you.

[epilogue-and-prologue]

Holding On

Fandom: The Lord of the Rings Ship/Pairing: Haldir x Reader Trope: Best Friends to Lovers Note: Took advantage of the potentially invented elven tradition of gifting someone your most precious possession after your first kiss :D. Warnings: Angst/Miscommunication - damn you Haldir/Slight smut if you squint and zoom at the very end. Word count: 2 836 Tag-list: @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @middleearthpixie @glassgulls @evenstaredits @fizzyxcustard @sotwk

The gentle breeze brought a soft tune to your ears. Of course, he would be playing in the first hours of the night. What else could he do, before leaving for another long month of patrol? Certainly not seek you out. The bitter lingered.

Haldir was a dear and close friend of yours. He had drawn you in with his cheekiness and teasing words. You were lucky enough to know those sides of him, usually hidden. Unlucky enough to be on the receiving end of those same unruly sides, sometimes. It felt harder and harder with each joust of words to stop the ones you wanted to say from blurting out of your mouth. Today was about fixing that. Upon walking the narrow path, your eyes met his silhouette before he could see you. The length of his hair covered his face. His bow and arrows were left in the grass, carefully propped against a branch. His head rose, and he finally saw you. A flutter of wings came to life in your stomach. He smiled at you.

“What are you doing out this early, melon?”

You had no good answer for that. Knowing he was leaving was one thing. Seeing him do so, even in your dreams, was another. Every departure was a torment for you.

Your lips curled sadly with your next words.

“Why did you not say goodbye, Haldir?”

The underlying harshness of your tone startled him. He paled, his eyes growing wide. He did not expect that. Not from you. You who were gentle and kind. Soft-spoken and careful in all manners of life. He never wanted to disappoint you. Nor hurt you. After your first encounter, he knew very quickly your presence could never be replaced by anyone else. When he identified those feelings as more than friendship, he snuffed them out. The mere thought of losing you because of them was unbearable. Deep down, he knew you would not leave him so. Yet, he feared it all the same and kept himself quiet.

“I thought I did. What is happening to you?”

A heavy sigh. Again, your emotions had got the better of you. The loneliness he left behind was a most cruel sentiment to have. Or to hold on to. His hands had stopped playing, and he laid the instrument next to him.

“I am sorry. I fear my future loneliness at your departure is haunting me in advance.”

Haldir chuckled weakly. You always did have a way with words. Even more so since becoming a script here in the palace. Where he was the one leaving, you were always the one staying. It tore his heart in two to see you afflicted so. The Marchwarden did not know what to do to alleviate the sadness in your eyes. You stepped forward until he had to raise his head to look at you. Soon, you sat down in front of him. An itch went through him from his fingertips to his shoulder blade; how he wanted to touch you right now…

“And you woke up this early because of it? Have I altered your sleeping by my rudeness? — Do not flatter yourself that much, Haldir.”

Finally, a smile had made its way onto your face. You reckoned that being mad at him was not your best skill. Unwavering, he stared at you expectantly, wishing you would answer and share your troubles with him, as you always did. This time proved harder than the other ones.

“I have made a decision.”

His eyebrows rose.

“What kind of decision? — About… us.”

His heart skipped a beat, and his breath shortened. He frowned even more, at a loss for words.

“We have been friends for a long and appreciable time. — Yes, we have. — Please do not interrupt me, it is already so hard to do…”

You bit on your lip, your courage leaving as water out of its bed. His stare became more present, his fingers tapping an invisible rhythm against the earth. Could this be it? Or had he been a fool this whole time?

“As a token of my appreciation, I want you to have this.”

Out of your hand, a piece of paper neatly folded — just as you knew how to. He had had those notes before. When you wanted to see him but could not fetch him yourself. Or when you wanted to say anything to him while he was on patrol. He took the piece of paper, seemingly heavier than the lasts. It seemed to contain something. Before he could pry it open, you stopped him.

“I also want you to wait until you are at your post.”

He looked at you as if you had grown a second head.

“Humour me. — Oh, I will.”

You laughed with him this time, inclining your head on one side. He found it entirely too endearing.

“I will, I promise. — Thank you.”

The letter clutched in his hand, he found himself speechless again.

A loud sound announced his departure. A few of his comrades passed you by. They soon waited by the end of the path for him to follow.

“Goodbye, my friend.”

While saying the words, he grabbed what was his, placing your letter in an inside pocket close to his heart. You noticed. You smiled as brightly as you could.

“Safe travels, my friend.”

He smiled brightly back, always one to try to cheer you up. Before you could register what he had done, he grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles. His steps were barely echoing around you anymore when you realised. The flutter in your stomach turned into a full storm.

*

The advanced post took them three whole days to reach. During those three days, Haldir could not help himself from touching and toying with the piece of paper you left him with. He was patient; you knew that. When it came to you, he could have waited another lifetime. Yet, this simple piece of paper and what it contained, almost weightless, made him more impatient and frustrated than the longest watch had ever done.

Finally, he reached his destination, and they relieved the others from their patrol. He waited the middle of the night to be alone and open the gift you had left him with. The paper unfolded easily enough. It almost toppled the thin ring left inside. The details were weaved around it, organised in rows of leaves and polished silver. It could not have belonged to you. The size was too big, and the ornaments were indicative of a skilled touch. He held the jewel in his palm for the longest time, almost losing track of what he was supposed to watch out for. Luckily, his brother had joined him and kept an extra eye out when he saw him entranced by what an object he could not see. Rúmil only hoped it would be a good thing. And made a mental note to ask about it later on.

On the paper, read the following.

“Dear friend,

I have known you for the longest time. I have cared for you for just as long. In truth, I have more than cared for you. My friendship was soon turned into affections and my affections turned into love. True unbearable, unbreakable love. This seems sudden, I know, and if you do not feel the same, I wish you would forget all about this affair and we will go back to the way things were. I promise not to bring it up again. In my heart, I know that no matter what, I will always be by your side. I believe you know in our tradition, a first show of affection is to be rewarded by that which is most precious to us. With the ring, I hope to offer a payment in advance. You see, this belonged to my father. Before him, my grandfather and before him, my great grandfather. It has seen better times. I hope it will see better times. He passed it onto me, as his only child. It is my most precious and meaningful possession. I want you to have it, for if you feel the way I do, there is no other way forward but to spend the rest of my life with you.

You have known me to be meek, but when I am with you, I become brave. I want to be brave with you.

Again, if you do not wish for me in those ways, I will understand. That ring, nevertheless, shall always be yours, for I will never love anyone else.

With love, Your friend.”

Haldir’s breath stopped. The shock must have shown on his face, for the comrade next to him shook his shoulder in the hopes of waking him up from his reverie. A wide smile had spread across his face, his heart beating anew.

“Are you alright? — I am. Now go back to your posts, please.”

Never before had he said please when giving orders. They figured this letter must have broken his skull, for he spent the rest of the month whistling and daydreaming, spending more time alone than with them. The oldest knew. The youngest were still asking questions. When they received no answers, they settled for quiet speculations.

None of them could have figured out what was happening in Haldir’s head the whole time.

*

You waited for an answer.

It never came.

Your days were spent writing and copying the history of your people, under a strict supervision. Celeborn would have no mistake be made, whereas Galadriel encouraged you in more positive ways. They were nervous, for those scrolls were to be sent to other countries for archiving. They were a testimony and inheritance of your people’s knowledge and myths. No room for errors.

Alas, you were distracted. On the first week, you were wondering if anything had happened to Haldir during his trip to his post. Then, news came that his group had safely arrived. The second week, you convinced yourself he did not return your attachment and cried yourself to sleep every night. It was cruel, but you had expected it. After all, he was a Marchwarden and you were a mere scribe. The third one, right before he was supposed to come back, you willed yourself to go back to the way it was. He was probably giving you the space to mourn and grieve for what would never be. You had to let things go, eventually.

On the day he did come back, Haldir made no specific announcement to you, nor did he arrive during daylight. Rúmil had warned him about showing up at this hour, himself having gone directly to bed. Of course, he did not listen to his brother. Especially when he was teasing him about the love-struck face, he had a hard time hiding, all the way back home. The first thing he did was seek you out. Despite his restlessness, the odd hour triumphed over him, and he could not find you anywhere. Straight away, he went to your room, which for this hour should not have been this cold, nor this lifeless. Your bed was undone, it was obvious you had trashed around in it, the sheets left in disarray. Your work clothes were scattered around the floor. The windows were open, a faint trace of flowers in the air. He did not recognise this to be you. His worry only grew when he found inks and quills, papers thrown about on the desk. All of them with his name, some angry, others drowned in tears. The library was empty, your usual meeting point by the pond too. No guard could tell him where you had gone. He almost snapped his bow under the pressure of his hands. A quick detour to his room and he dropped off his bags and weapon. It was his fault. All of it. Not knowing what you wanted him to do, he had tried to write letters, never sending them out. It was all his fault for not telling you, even in unwisely chosen words, how he truly felt. What an actual idiot he had been. Only then did he realise where you must have been and ran.

The scribes had all left their working space. And here you were, hunched over and scrapping paper after paper, in your usual measured manners. He halted his steps. From where he was, he could not see your face, nor your hands, yet he was sure they were covered in ink stains and sore from having been overused. His feet reached you rapidly. You were about to cry out when you turned around.

Haldir had been right. You were wearing a wrinkled nightdress, clinging onto your skin with the sweat, your eyes haggard, hands covered in small ink stains. You probably had touched your face too, for it had several spots of ink there too. One by your left eye, over your eyelid. Another on your cheek, spread in a wild sprawl. The last ones on both your temples, where you must have tried to erase a headache.

As well as tears. So much tears growing in your eyes dying on your lips, nesting in your throat, making your skin damp when he reached for your face. How could he had let this happen?

“Why are you here? — I love you.”

He figured that in the state you were in, brutality was the swiftest way of ripping this sadness away. He did not think far enough to predict the anger that would follow.

“And you’re only telling me now!”

You wanted to hit him. Badly. Even tried to slap him. If it were not for his stupid reflexes, you might have done so. He would have let you, if the need to embrace you had not been so overwhelming. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead before securing his arms around you. You relented, too tired to fight with him. Without warning, he picked you up a hand under your knees and the other on your back. Your hands secured against his neck as he carried you out. Haldir did not bother looking out for onlookers. They would have no answer from him anyway, too focused as he was on seeing your face for the first time in a month. It was lucky this mission had been this short, otherwise… He did not want to imagine otherwise. Your room was the closest, and he reached it first, settling you in bed. You were the one to stop him. Those pleading eyes he could not resist, and a need to rest his bones close to the person he wanted to be with. He laid down with you, and you fell asleep safe and sound in his arms.

* The next morning, he woke up with a back pain, in the bed only made for one. You were nowhere in sight. He sighed. Maybe you had gone to wash and would come back soon. He waited a little while before deciding he probably had the time to wash and change too until you arrived. As he had been previously, he was wrong.

When you came back an hour later — the ink had washed away with difficulty and you needed clean clothes — your room was empty. No traces left behind. Frustration took root within you. Where could he be? Showing up in the middle of the night, no notes, no nothing announcing his return. Not directly from him, at least. You had hoped for a letter or a missive. Something, anything.

He did not have another mission yet, as far as you knew. The only logical places he could be were the bathhouse or his chambers. You chose the latter. You stomped into his bedroom with no warning.

“You did not say goodbye, Haldir.”

A chill ran down his spine. His undressed state did not seem to phase you. But then again, he thought he was the only one in love in this relationship and it had proved wrong. Deciding against his first instincts, he put a light shirt on and walked to you. You wanted to slap the smirk off of his face. Just as much as you wanted to take that shirt off of him right this instant.

“No, you did not this time. — I did not?! How… — Please…”

This time, he was the one pleading for mercy. You were looking precious, like this. A nymph or a divine being, freshly out of the water, droplets dragging against your skin. Haldir’s thumb touched your lips lightly, plump and warm against his fingertips. Your breath shortened, anger drowned by him. By his arm around your waist, by his breath fanning over your cheek, his hair caressing your collarbones, your throat, firm hands mapping your back. The fire within you could not be stopped this time.

“If you start this… — I know.”

His lips touched yours, and the world was ablaze. He brought your legs against his hips. You could feel his desire against your core. Never before had you willingly surrendered to your feelings like this.

You felt the edge of a silver ring you knew by heart around his finger. You bit your lips hard and kissed him again, even harder.

There was no letting go now.

Only holding on.

[kiwriteswords]

Hiii sorry if this is too late for missing scenes Monday (or maybe this can be Thirsty Thursday!) but I'm thinking of post-Reaper attack between 5x01 - 5x02, Hotch having a secret fuck buddy/friend with benefits to work out his frustrations 👀

Because that's what I want to be for him lol

The Aftermath [Aaron Hotchner x Reader]

Ki2k Masterlist||MainMasterlist (not updated, sorry!)|| Ao3||Word Count: >>>1k|| AN: Not too late! My apologies for it being so short! Thank you for sending in and being a part of my 2k celebration! <3 *note, I think I will not be tagging my usual taglist in these, as I do not want everyone to have their notifications blown up by my short drabbles and/or excessive posting for this event!*

Tags/Warnings: female reader, canon typical themes, canon typical injuries, spoilers-ish to 5.01/5.02, hurt!hotch, sexual themes, friends-with-benefits, fade to black smut, sexual tension, caregiver!reader, BAU!Reader, mdni

Summary: Hotch thinks the benefits part of your 'friends with benefits' situation may really help the way he's feeling when recovering from being attacked by The Reaper.

Your heels clicked softly against the hardwood floor of Aaron Hotchner’s apartment, the sound muffled by the pervasive silence that seemed to hang heavily in the air. The door had been left unlocked, just as he’d texted you it would be, a small act of trust that you didn’t take lightly, especially now.

As you entered, you paused for a moment, struck by his appearance. Hotch was sitting on the couch, his posture unusually rigid against the softness of the cushions. His face was drawn, the remnants of pain evident in the tight set of his jaw and the way his eyes briefly closed when he adjusted his position. The bandages peeking out from under his shirt near his neck served as a jarring reminder of the attack that had nearly taken his life.

You took in the surroundings of his apartment. On the coffee table sat a prescription, which looked unopened, and a cup of coffee--likely the only thing he had eaten or drank in the last 48 hours since being home. 

“Hotch,” you said softly, keeping your voice gentle, not wanting to startle him.

He opened his eyes, and a flicker of relief passed through them as he saw you. “You came.”

“I said I would.” You set down the bag of groceries you’d brought with you in the kitchen, making a mental note to fill his fridge with something more substantial than takeout containers and old coffee. 

Over the months, your relationship had evolved into a convenient arrangement of late-night visits and quiet departures--no promises made, no strings attached. But today was different. You felt different seeing him. Your eyes caught the cut out spot on the carpet, a mental reminder that you almost didn’t see him again. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I was stabbed in the chest,” he replied dryly, a hint of his usual stoicism laced with dark humor. You knew this was his way of coping, of grounding himself back to reality.

Walking over to him, you took a seat on the other end of the couch, giving him space yet staying close enough to share warmth. “I can imagine that doesn’t feel great.”

He watched you, his gaze intense and searching. His voice was rough, and he said, "I...I could use a different kind of distraction, though."

The atmosphere thickened, laden with unspoken yet palpable tension. This was always the dance you two did so well--words veiling more profoundly, unsaid things. It worked this way--it did. You weren’t itching to label things, but the way your heart quicked seeing him so…so raw. So vulnerable.

Since the attack, since Foyet, everything felt more intense, more serious. Your relationship, hidden under the guise of late-night visits and stolen moments at work, now bore the weight of his near-death experience.

“Hotch, you need to rest,” you said, reaching out tentatively to adjust a cushion behind him, your hand brushing against his arm. The contact sent a familiar jolt through you, but you focused on his comfort rather than the building tension.

“I am resting,” he insisted, though the edge in his voice told you it was the last thing he felt. Trapped in his apartment, in his body that hadn’t fully healed, in his mind that never stopped--rest was a foreign concept to him. "I could use some company...maybe a bit more, if you’re up for it."

You paused, your heart skipping a beat. "Aaron, I don't think that’s a good idea," you said gently, worried about his physical condition. You looked down to the gauze peeking out from the hem of his shirt. The bandaged spon on his arm from where the IV was. The bruising on his cheek. 

"I need this," he pressed, his expression earnest. He waved a hand toward his bandaged torso with a grimace, an awkward reminder of his vulnerability. "I need to feel something other than this, even if it's just for a moment."

You swallowed hard, your resolve wavering. This was uncharted territory. The casual ease of our previous encounters hadn't prepared us for the raw edges of such real need. "I’m afraid of hurting you," you confessed, feeling the weight of his gaze intensify.

"I'm not made of glass," he countered softly, a hint of his usual firmness returning. "And I trust you. You’ve always known where to draw the line, haven't you?"

The weight of his trust in you, in your understanding of his limits, made your decision for you. Slowly, you moved closer, still cautious but now with a new purpose. "Okay, but at any sign that it's too much--"

He reached out, his hand finding yours, his touch gentle yet certain. "I'll let you know," he promised, his thumb brushing against your skin soothingly.

"Let's take it slow," you suggested, leaning in to place a soft kiss on his forehead, a gesture of care mingled with the promise of more.

"Slow is perfect," he agreed, his other hand coming up to cradle your face, bringing you closer for a gentle, probing kiss that spoke of gratitude and need.

The kiss deepened gradually, more about connection than passion, yet it stirred a familiar heat within you both. Hotch remained careful, mindful of his injuries, but his kisses grew more insistent, fueled by a mixture of frustration and desire. Each touch was a whisper against your skin, a silent conversation between comfort and desire, pulling you deeper into the complexity of our connection.

As you responded, matching his intensity, the world outside his recovery, the pain, and the medications momentarily faded. Here, in this quiet space filled only with the sound of shared breaths, you pulled back slightly, checking his expression for any sign of discomfort. "Are you okay?" you asked, breathless.

"More than okay," he assured you, his eyes bright for the first time since the attack. "I need this...I need you. Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me for that," you whispered, settling beside him. Here, with Hotch, you were both finding a way to mend, a path forward that allowed him to heal not just in body but in his spirit.

[monsterswithimagines]

Undisclosed Desires - Part 24

Joe Goldberg x female!Reader

Summary: Twenty minutes before he would have met Guinevere Beck, Joe meets you instead. You intruige him, but it will soon become clear that there is something off about you.

Words: 873

Masterlist

The flight to The Netherlands is long and annoying.

There is a fat man next to me, taking up all my space, and a baby in the row behind me is crying the whole time. I can't sleep at any part during the eight hour flight even though I really should, and I can't focus on Sky full of elephants - a book which you recommended to me - either. Also, I feel dehydrated, so I drink a lot of water, but then I just have to pee every ten minutes.

I feel disgusting when I finally get off the plane, and Amsterdam airport sucks. It takes forever until I can get my suitcase and it takes even longer for the one line (one!) that is open at customs to let all the non-European Union travellers through.

But it's all worth it, (Y/n), because when I walk into the departures hall, you are waiting for me.

You don't care that I'm sweaty, or that my shirt stinks. You just about crash into me and hug me. Then you kiss my lips and then my nose and then my lips again. I kiss you back and I forget all about how uncomfortable I am.

“Hey, you,” I say.

“Hi,” you answer, smiling against my mouth.

You have lost weight, even in just the five days I haven't fed you. Don't people usually gain weight when they spend a lot of time with their grandparents?

You're wearing a red woollen hat with a puffball on top that I only know from Nadia's Instagram. It makes you look like a little elf.

“You look cute,” I tell you.

You make a face.

“It's 42 degrees, I'm dying in all this shit.” You gesture down at your attire: an unzipped, light blue puffer coat, a sweater that goes to your knees and skinny jeans. “Thank you, though.” You eye my suitcase. “Lemme take that.”

“Isn't the guy supposed to carry his girlfriend's stuff?”

“You were just on a plane for eight hours, and we're about to get on a train for two more. It's not fun. Let me carry your suitcase for you, mister macho man.”

I laugh, and I let you.

On the train, I should look out the window at all the new things I’ve never seen before. But all I wanna look at is you.

We're sitting in a spot for four people, even though enough spots for two are open. These trains are nothing like the ones in New York. I expected to have to stand uncomfortably for two hours, but this is alright. The seats are nice enough and there isn't too much litter. There are some teenagers loudly playing their music and talking, but when you're used to the New York transit line, that's nothing.

Your legs are stretched sideways. You are typing on your phone and I want to ask who you're texting, or to say anything to you at all, but you are frowning. You are not in the mood for idle questions, so I wait for you to talk to me, first.

Eventually, you put your phone away and smile at me.

“Sorry about that.”

“Is everything okay?”

“It's just my grandparents. They want us to come by their house right away and I thought I already made it clear that wasn't going to happen, but now my grandma's on it again and I'm having real trouble relaying through my uncle that you've just been on a long ass flight.”

“We can go by their house.”

“No.” You shake your head firmly. “I'm going to save you from yourself here. No.”

You know when I just want to please you, and I love that you know to stop me when it's too much.

“Okay then.”

“Trust me. You're going to take a shower and fall into bed and you are going to crash hard. I only just got over the jet lag, myself. It's much worse this way than back.”

Back. You consider New York going back because that's where I am.

“I believe you.”

I want you to bring up Mitch, but you don't.

I ask: “is your mom still not going to be there, by the way?”

A complicated emotion crosses your face. Then, you go carefully blank. You shake your head.

“That's too bad,” I say.

“Apparently she thinks I told her I don't want to talk to her,” you tell me. “I never said anything like that, but it's not the first time she's made stuff like that up.” You shrug. “Anyway, she's not coming if her boyfriend's not allowed to come, and apparently she's not taking the news that you are allowed to come very well, either.”

You cross your arms, and you cross your legs and your body is closed. You are hurting and I don't know what to say to you to make it better.

We are silent for a moment.

“Anyway,” you say, taking a deep breath. “When we get to the AirBnB, you should take a shower and I'll go out and get some food.”

“That sounds great.”

“What're you hungry for?”

“You grew up here. You probably know what's good better than I do.”

“I'll figure it out then.”