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novemberheart · 3 months ago

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{overview} You get attacked. Does your pack step up for you?

{warnings} violence, blood, mentions of sexual content (no sexual abuse), fem reader, cursing, poly141, pain, crying, angst, a/b/o dynamics

Chapter 10 <- Chapter 11 -> Chapter 12

It was Simon’s last day of physical therapy. If he passed this he would be cleared to get back out in the field. On his way, he dropped you off at another Omega Committee event. This one you were actually excited about. It was a hike through the forest at the far end of the base. Priya wasn't there and you wished you had the presence of mind to have asked her for her number. But luckily you ran into Anais.

“You smell like peaches and cream. Anyone ever told you that?” she asked. The sound of Johnny yelling “peaches” instantly ran through your mind.

“A few, yeah.” you smiled.

“Well that's what I'm going to call you, PC for short.” she giggled. You had been called worse. Anais was a chatter. You didn't really mind though.

“Can I ask you something- something personal,” she whispered, leaning even closer to you. Curiosity killed the cat.

“How does it work with all five of you? Do they take turns-” she whispered.

“Oh my god, Anais.” you couldn't help but chuckle, despite the flaming of your cheeks. To be honest you were wondering the same thing.

“That was too much! I'm so sorry. I was just curious and I thought we were friends”-

“Anais it's alright. If I knew I probably wouldn't mind sharing a bit of info.” You assured. She relaxed.

“So you haven't?”

“No,” you responded truthfully.

“Have you ever?” she trailed off. You hadn't. You never really had the chance. You weren't sure if your pack members would approve of you spilling this information everywhere. “I'll take that as a no.” she snickered. You gave her a playful side-eye.

“Don’t worry about it. Took me forever to lose mine too.” she signed.

“It has not been forever!” you gasped, swatting at her. She laughed loudly causing a few heads to turn. Neither of you really cared.

“Just don't get your hopes up. First times are always terrible,” she advised, bumping you with her arm.

“Thanks for the pep talk.” you huffed.

“Do you have a favorite pack member yet?” she asked suddenly. You quickly shook your head. You enjoyed them all- truthfully. “I think if I was in a pack I would have my favorites. Hopefully one would be my alpha, but you never know,” she smirked.

“Can I ask you something?” you began.

“Shoot.”

“Did it hurt when you were marked?” you questioned.

“The first time, yes. I was in a long-term relationship with an alpha who wasn't entirely nice.”

“I'm sorry Anais.”

She quickly waved you off. “Don't worry about it. It was a long time ago. The second time, not as much. He did it during my heat and it only hurt for a day when I came out of it.” she explained.

“You’re strong Anais.” you said. She flashed you a smile.

“We’re omegas, PC. We have to be.”

The hike back was partly uphill, which was nobody's favorite.

“It was so beautiful when we left. When did it get so bloody hot out?” you panted.

“Look. The heat turns you English.” Anais chuckled through her own pants. You may have picked up a few phrases from the boys.

“Alright, everyone, take five!” One of the group leaders shouted. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. You had made it to the edge of the base, still a little under half a mile to get back.

“I’m going to go refill my water. You need some?” you asked. Anais flopped down on the grass, her arms blocking her face from the sun.

“No thank you.” she groaned, rolling onto her stomach. You made your way up to the front, intending to tell one of the leaders you were going to go get some water. You huffed as the same five omegas were consuming all their attention. “Whatever.” you sighed. You knew where it was, you had filled your water bottle up with Kyle a few days ago when he took you bird watching. Besides, Anais knew where you were.

You made your way quickly towards the buildings, going between them to the other side where the water fountain was.

“My thumbs gonna fall off,” you grumbled. You had to press and hold the button down hard. Kyle made it look easy. Your ears perked up at the sound of footsteps. Your head darted around not seeing anything. You figured you didn't need water that bad and began walking back.

You were abruptly thrown to the ground. Your shorts offered absolutely no protection against the rough gravel. The whole left side of your body slid against the ground, the force of the shove sending you a few feet. There was a low growl behind you and you acted purely on instinct. You felt a hand on your ankle pulling you back. You flipped yourself around, swinging your arm luckily catching a man's face with your claws. He howled, throwing himself away from you. You quickly shuffled backward trying to find your footing.

“Shit, that's 141.” the other man with him cursed. He grabbed the bleeding man pulling him away. Even though they were leaving, you knew you weren't safe. You were finally able to get your footing and began running around the corner, almost knocking Anais down in the process.

“What the fuck!” she shrieked. You were beginning to bleed at this point. It started dripping down your left leg, and right knee. It was starting to show through your shirt on your left side, your elbow, both your hands, and your chin. “It's okay, lovie.” she soothed. You were trying your hardest to keep it together, not wanting to create a scene, however, the pain and fear were making it very difficult.

“I can't go back to the group like this,” you whined. People will think you’re crazy.

“Don't worry. This wasn't your fault. Everyone will understand.” she soothed, gently pulling you along. You held your ground shaking your head. “PC you're bleeding a lot. You need help.” she insisted.

“I want my pack.” you whimpered. You pressed the backside of your hand against your mouth, your throat constricting.

“If you come with me you can get to them.” she urged. It was the push you needed. Luckily you didn't get very far before a group leader noticed and raced towards you.

“What happened?” he questioned. You ignored him, not really in the mood to talk to strange men, and pulled your backpack forward grabbing your phone out of the front pocket. You were lucky it hadn't shattered in the ordeal.

“Someone attacked her.” Anais growled, annoyed that he couldn't use the context clues.

“Hello?” Johnny had picked up after one ring. Hearing his voice made it impossible to hold back any tears. You sobbed into the phone. You heard him repeat your name on the other end, it growing louder and louder every time it left his lips.

“I need you, please. I'm not really sure where I’m at.”

“It's alright, Bon. I have your location pulled up on my phone, I'm near there. Just don't hang up,” he assured. Your chip. You breathed a sigh of relief, leaning against the side of the building.

“I think you should head back to the group.” The group leader directed towards Anais.

“No way,” she growled. “I’m not leaving her”

“Thank you.” you mouthed.

“Of course,” she whispered back. She leaned against the building with you. The rest of the group was still there, the other group leaders trying to prevent them from getting any closer. You didn't need to worry about that, as Johnny quickly rounded the corner, gravel flying under his feet. His mouth fell open at the state of you. His arms extended out and you quickly threw yourself at him, neither of you caring about any blood, sweat, or tears.

“I got you, baby,” he whispered, causing you to lose it again.

“I want to go home.” you whimpered, against his shoulder. Your legs were wrapped firmly around his waist, his arms squeezing you so hard you might have even more bruises.

“Alright.” he soothed. He nodded his head to the group leader and Anais.

“I'll come and visit you in a few days,” Anais called after you.

“Thank you.” you sputtered back. He didn't say a word but pressed his lips against the side of your head every few feet. He stopped setting you down causing you to sob louder. He peeled off his jacket quickly. Carefully dabbing your legs, where the most blood was coming out. He didn't want you to leave a trail of blood everywhere.

He went a back way, not wanting everyone to see his bloodied-up omega. Johnny carried you like you were a feather, weaving through buildings like it was just another day. Well to him it probably was.

Luckily too many people weren't hanging out around your home, the few that did were ignored or met with a snarl. You whimpered at the sound, all your senses on overdrive. You could tell how upset Johnny was, even though you couldn't smell him. He was shaking, growls escaping him nearly every moment. “Almost there.” he soothed. He made it out of the elevator, slamming his key card against the sensor and throwing open the door.

He set you down on the kitchen counter, making no move to pull away from you. He needed to calm you down first.

“S’alright,” he repeated against your head. “I need you to relax for me, lass. Gonna get you all taken care of, aye?” he shut his eyes tightly, resting his body against yours. Your hands dug into his shirt, and you growled at the inability to smell him. “I know what’ll help.” he soothed. He pulled away causing you to whine, and he darted into John's room grabbing a shirt out of his dresser. He brought it back, holding it up towards your face. You were about to bury your face in it but stopped.

“I don't want to get it bloody.” you sobbed.

“He won't mind, bon. Plus we know how to get blood stains out.”

You didn't need to be told twice, you buried your face into the fabric, nuzzling up to Johnny again. After a few moments, your breathing returned to normal and the tears fell quietly. You were quivering now, the pain making up for the loss of adrenaline. “Gonna tell the rest, okay?” he asked, causing you to nod.

He grabbed his phone out of his pocket.

-come home asap. Omega emergency

He tossed the phone on the counter, pulling away from you, sitting down in one of the stools so he was almost face-to-face with you.

“Need you to tell me what happened,” he demanded softly. He kept his jacket pressed against your legs and used a sleeve to stop the bleeding of your elbow.

“I went to get water,” you whispered. Your eyes burned, now dry. “I heard someone walking so I started to leave then all of a sudden someone pushed me to the ground.” his face twitched, his jaw clenching so hard you worried for his teeth. “He grabbed my ankle and started pulling me back, but I turned around and scratched him across his face. One of them said something about 141 and then they ran away,” you explained.

“That’s good. Did exactly what you should've. This happen by the water fountain?” he asked.

“Mhhh,” you confirmed, wondering what he was getting at. The door swung open.

“Holy shit,” Kyle hissed, eyeing you up and down. He was a bit out of breath and you wondered if he ran all the way here like Johnny had. “Let me see.” he insisted, nearly pushing Johnny out of the way. He peeled away the sweatshirt and pulled John's shirt out of your hands.

“Some bastards shoved her.” Johnny snarled.

“By where you took me to see the birds,” you spoke up.

“They've got cameras.” Kyle said exactly what Johnny was thinking. “Should get it pulled up for when the alphas come.” As if on cue the door slammed open again.

“Where is sh”- John cut himself off. “Let me see.” he demanded, pushing Kyle out of the way. If you weren't in pain you would've laughed.

“Someone pushed me, Johnny’s trying to find it on the cameras.” you caught him up to speed. Simon moved towards Johnny glaring over his shoulder at the device. “It was my fault,” you whispered to John. Everyone's head snapped to you. John had your face in his hands, looking over your chin. “I went away from the group to get some water. I should've stayed with the”-

“You don't get to take credit for this.” John sneered. “I don't care where the hell you are, who you are around, this should never happen to you. Understand?” he ordered.

“Yes, Alpha,” you responded quickly.

“Don't make it a habit though,” Kyle spoke, hovering back over by you and John.

“Got it,” Johnny said. John left you but Kyle stayed.

“I'm gonna take a few pictures of you, love. Gotta keep the evidence,” he explained.

“Okay,” you replied softly. Your eyes trained on the three men watching the video. Johnny's face curled again, gripping his phone so tight his knuckles were white. Simon and John appeared to be fairly level-headed, trying to pick up on every detail.

“Record it before someone deletes it,” John instructed. John came back to you, pressing his lips against your forehead. “I’m going to go take care of a few things. Me and Simon’ll be back soon,” he spoke through gritted teeth, taking an inhale of your scent to prevent himself from shaking. He pulled away, Simon following behind him like a dog. “Send me the pictures after.”

“You did good, pup.” Simon praised, heading out the door with John.

Hi friends! Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Chapter 12 will be up in two days! See you then! 🧡

#novemberheart #captain john price #gaz x reader #ghost x reader #kyle gaz garrick #poly141 #price x reader #simon ghost riley #soap x reader #johnny soap mactavish #captain john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #as needed #cod men #cod x fem!reader #cod x reader #cod x you

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couldeatthatgirlforlunch · 3 months ago

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Please can we have more Yan justice league?

Maybe the reader has a boyfriend in the military so she doesn't see him much and when he comes back to visit, the go on a fancy date before they crash it?

It would make it even better if they reacted to the boyfriend about to propose to her!

A Day in Life: Heartbreaks

Synopsis: A day in your life where your yanderes find a secret of yours and tell you another one.

Pairing: Yandere!Justice League X Assistant!Gn!Reader; Modern!40s!Bucky Barnes X Reader

Tw: Bucky you’re one of my fav characters from Marvel, I'm so sorry I did u dirty😭; Heavy mentions of cheating and NO forgiving; Stalking; English isn’t my 1st language.

Word count: 1k

Requested? Duh.

Extra notes: I should be studying instead of writing this. Also omg I got so many requests in just a few hours, thank you very much!! I'm writing them all!!

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

Since most of your days became filled with stress and anxiety, you started appreciating even more moments where you could just forget all your problems, from small ones — like, lack of motivation to go to the gym, bad hair days and an ingredient you forgot at your fridge and became rotten—, and big, out of your control ones — like seven superheroes, who you see almost everyday, stalking you.

Your boyfriend getting back was one of the best dic(k)strations.

Bucky was a sergeant, he spent weeks, even months, away from you on missions. It was hard, but you were both busy people, so your mind was usually too stimulated to think about boy problems only all day, most adults were, and you believed the hard work would be worth it one day. The future was hopefully bright.

The League never mentioned him. Actually, some of them implied more than once that they thought you were available, so they probably didn't know about your relationship. You didn't use much social media and your boyfriend got especially busy this year, so it made sense.

He paid for you to get your nails done earlier and took you to a nice restaurant. After that, Bucky took you for a walk around the city, lively and beautiful even at night, and stopped at the park where your first date happened. Everything was fine, until he got on his knees. Suddenly, seven, mostly colorful, figures descended upon you from out of nowhere, screaming.

— (Y/N)! YOU CAN'T MARRY HIM! — Flash’s voice startled you, confirming your suspicions to who the group was.

You growled.

— SERIOUSLY? LEAVE ME ALONE! IT'S MY DAY OFF! — Bucky, who had swiftly gotten up with his fast reflexes as soon as the heroes charged, blinked at the sight. He looked between you all.

— Doll? What’s this? — You looked apologetic at him.

— Sorry, Bucky. Since I got my job, my bosses got… Protective over me… — You didn't want him to get hurt. Bucky and his friends had a great sense of justice and hated bullies. He would surely want to do something if he knew the true extent of things. You also didn't want to ruin the vision he had of his idols.

Since their obsessive behavior started, you just counted your lucky stars that they would just get tired of you one day or wouldn't sabotage your relationships. They seemed fine with you having friends, but dating was different.

You turned to the League.

— Go! — They shook their heads.

— You can't trust this bastard, darling. We have proof of his betrayal to you. — You looked at Wonder Woman skeptically and crossed your arms. Bucky gulped.

— Oh, really? How so? — You raised an eyebrow.

Batman fiddled with his wrist computer, a second later, a protection was shown and different pictures and videos of your man talking and being very intimate with someone very familiar to you appeared. Your stomach churned and your heart ached.

— This is fake! Doll, you have to believe me! — Bucky cried out and got in front of you, holding your shoulders, trying to cover your vision from the images. You took a step back and kept looking at the images.

The League had more than enough means necessary to fake all of this, but you knew Natasha was Bucky’s ex, and they were still friends and coworkers, even with their intense heartbreak. You sometimes got insecure and worried since they spent so much time together, but he always told you you had nothing to worry about…

You gulped.

The League was all glaring at his back while he shouted a hundred words per minute, desperately trying to convince you he was telling the truth.

Superman growled and walked forward until he grabbed Bucky by his shoulders and pulled him away from you.

— Stay away from them, you asshole. (Y/N), I would never do that to you. — You ignored Green Lantern's words, like you were doing since the pacifier incident. You knew he was getting desperate and that made you specially scared, but at least he gave you some distance.

— Not now. — Batman took a step forward. — A few hours ago, we discovered your relationship. For security reasons, we searched, and found these pictures and conversations from his second social accounts, that he uses to commit his cheating.

— He didn't try to hide much, he thought he wouldn't get caught. — Flash stated.

— I-I need more proof… These could be old… — Your first words spoken made Bucky shut up. Mind scrambling for something.

— Let the Lasso of Truth speak for him. — In a second, the Lasso was thrown around Bucky's torso and he was squirming. — Speak, you worthless mortal! — Wonder Woman ordered.

Bucky was able to struggle for a few seconds, before he blurted out.

— It's truth! It's truth! I told her we broke up and started dating her again! I thought I could have you both at the same time!

You gasped. Your hand shot to your chest.

Flash was on your side in a second, trying to hug and comfort you, but you pushed him away. You started crying from heartbreak and anger.

— HOW COULD YOU?! — You glared at him and pointed at his face.

— Doll… I swear I love you both. But I'm also narcissistic, insecure and look down on women. — The Lasso was really doing its job. You laughed humorlessly.

You had nothing to say anymore. No reason to stay. You took advantage of his tied arms and got close, punched his nose, and stomped away.

The League contemplated going after you and trying to bring you comfort, but Batman and Martian Manhunter decided to just let Bucky go (after intimidating him so as to not get close to you again) and follow you discreetly, watching you from the shadows, intervening only if necessary.

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igotanidea · 4 months ago

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Coke and disappointment: Jason Todd x reader

Warnings: SMUT MDNI!, friends to lovers, bad date on reader's part

Summary: when a date goes wrong, who's better to talk to if not a best friend. Even if that best friend happens to secretly have feelings for you and the complaining may actually push him over the edge...

A/N: sorry for the typos and mistakes, no time to proofread :D I'll fix it later :D

***

He was a fool.

A stupid, idiotic fucker who was too stubborn to speak up.

Too scared to tell the girl he liked that he liked her.

And now he was about to lose her.

Jason let out a shaky exhale, feeling his heart shutter at the thought she was about to move on with her life and leave him alone. Again. And then he punched the wall in a poor attempt at transforming that sadness into rage.

Rage was easier and he knew how to navigate it.

He took in the surroundings of his apartment, a little cluttered and shabby, but still it was the place he called his. Just last night she was casually lunging on his couch, texting on her phone with that stupid smile that always made his heart melt.

She was texting him. That other guy who obviously did not deserve her. HE could have been the prince charming himself, be a gentleman with the look, but in Jason’s opinion he did not deserve her.

She was so close on that stupid couch.

So close.

All he had to do was take one step forward, take the phone from her hands and fucking tell her how he felt.

And then she jumped in the air, laughing and spinning around, proudly announcing she had a date.

And suddenly she was not so close anymore. Almost like those three words made a mountain grow between them.

A mountain, a sea, a valley and a desert.

His words died in his throat and he just smirked, throwing his usual meaningly funny comment and shut his heart once more.

And now he was spread on the same couch she was yesterday, with a bottle of beer in his hand, thinking stupid thoughts.

***

“Are you drinking without me?” the door swung open and Y/n walked inside like she owned the place, almost immediately heading towards the fridge and grabbing herself a bottle of cola zero.

“The hell Y/N? The hell you’re doing here?!”

“Can’t I just pop in at my friend’s place?” she raised an eyebrow and took a sip of her drink.

“Oh, no, you know what, by all means come in at any time. What if I was with someone?” Jason hissed in response, moving on the couch to make space for her.

“Well then, if so, you should remember to close the door. As much as I wouldn’t mind the show, I’m pretty sure the girl you’ll be taking advantage of would not be delighted with an onlooker.”

“You’re disgusting Y/N.” Jason sighed with a hint of a smirk.

“But I’m not wrong, am I?” she grinned and poked his ribs playfully.

“No. No you are not.”

“Yeah…”

That yeah coming from her was supposed to be said in a funny tone, but came out a little desperate, the silence that fell after only added to that sensation.

“Hey Y/n/n?”

“Hm?”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“About what?”

“You know what.” Jason frowned and cupped her chin making her look at him

“That little failure of something that I already romanticized in my head before?”

“Yeah. About that.”

“Actually, yes, let’s talk about it. Maybe you can tell me what is wrong with today’s men.”

“Oh, shit talking the fucker that clearly made you upset. I’m game.” Jason stood up gathering another beer and coke from the fridge, getting ready for the long conversation. “Do tell.” With the force he jumped back on the couch, Y/N flew a few inches in the air.

“He came late.” She started and Jason booed “he was dressed as if it was a beach or something. And then he took me to the park—”

“Hopefully those punches and moves I taught you helped?”

“Right, cause we were fighting squirrels.” Y/N rolled her eyes “come on, be serious, it was the middle of the day in a public place. Using those punches will only make me get attention to myself. I settled on the good old kick in the groin.

Jason laughed. It was obvious the meeting did not go well.

“He was only talking about himself. Like all the time. Never once asking a thing about me.”

“You could have started talking yourself. I’m pretty sure the fucker had to make breaks for breathing?”

“Actually, I’m starting to believe he’s that one parasite that scientists discovered and that does not.”

“A parasite huh?”

“Pretty much so.”

“So, he took you to the café?”

“Nope.”

“Nope?”

“Nope.”

“Wait, you’re serious!?” Jason turned abruptly to meet her eyes. “So the hell were you two doing?”

“Walking in the park?” Y/N raised an eyebrow “just told you?”

“For two hours?! How big was this fucking park?”

“Well….” Her gaze traveled lower and she started fidgeting with her fingers.

“What else?”

“Nothing.”

“What else, Y/N?” Jason almost groaned in frustration.

“At some point we took a turn and had to literally bush-bash.”

“No!” much to her surprise Jason started guffawing

“Hey, stop laughing! It was not funny! I had a dress!”

“Oh, poor little you.” He cackled even harder. “You don’t really want my opinion on that so-called “date” do you?”

“Of course not. I’m not exactly blind to red flags. I just wanted to vent.”

“You can be blind to red flags sometimes.” Jason muttered, quickly drowning the words with the sip of a drink.

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“You’re spending time with me, instead with one of your girlfriends.”

“I don’t have girlfriends and your red flags are the reason why you are my friend and why there would never be anything else.”

Ouch. That was like a punch to the guts.

“What if there was?” he blurted without thinking, only because the bottle turned out empty and he couldn’t swallow the bile.

“What--?” with a broken word and the way her eyes focused on his face, Jason knew there was no going back. It was now or never.

“What if there was Y/N? What if there was something more…?” with a gentle touch he grabbed her coke and put it on the nearby table, instead intertwining their fingers. “What if—”

“Jason, don’t—”

“Don’t tell me to stay in the shadows while you keep dating men that can’t even take you for coffee!” he yelled and it made her stumble backwards, letting go of his hands. “Fuck! Why can’t you see it?!

“See what…?”

“You deserve –” he started, but she cut him off.

“No. No, don’t you dare tell me that I deserve someone better. I don’t really see men lining up for me” Y/N chuckled dryly “I’m not a teen anymore, soon my expiration date will come and –“

“Shut up!” he hissed, in a blink of an eye finding himself on the other side of the couch, his eyes boring a hole into her face, his hands aching to do so many things… “You deserve more than a mindless stroll in the park, not that the walk itself is a bad thing. You deserve to be spoiled and –“

“Please don’t…”

“If anything more, you at least deserve a good orgasm.” He groaned, unable to control himself anymore, eyes filled with lust and unspoken promises of pleasure.

She was so close. Once again. Only now, he wasn’t going to cross the line. It was her choice. If she wanted to walk out and close the door on him – fine. This would hurt like hell, but eventually Jason would get over it.

But it was her choice and there was no way he would take advantage of her.

As if making her hot and bothered with the look in his eyes, the closeness and the heat from his presence and words was not taking advantage.

***

Y/N was lost only for a second.

It’s been so long since she’s been touched. So long since she felt anyone in that way. And her body needed it.

God knows she needed it.

And she had no power to swim against the tide, grabbing the front of his shirt and kissing him.

***

Jason reacted instinctively.

His strong hands moved to her waist, pulling her on top of him, starting to grind against her, even through their clothes.

He was going to make her feel so good.

So fucking good, taking her to the places she’s never been before.

Only for her. Just for her.

Her.

Now not only in his thoughts and crazy fantasies, but in flesh and bone in his arms, on his couch, pliant and needy for attention.

“Jason….” His lips moved from her lips to her neck, brushing over her pulse point.

“Jason…” his hands rolled her dress up until it was on her waist.

“Jason…” the word became hoarse and breathy when he lifted her up so she was now straddling him.

And he was only just beginning.

Teasing her with one finger, pulling her panties away, feeling the wetness already seeping on his jeans. She was so ready for him just from a few touches. How touch starved and neglected she must have been if just a little foreplay was enough?

“You’re mine tonight…” he groaned into her ear. “Mine. Say it Y/N…”

“Yours…” she whimpered, shuddering at the way his index finger inched closer to her heat.

“Yeah. Mine.” For Jason it felt just right to call her his.

“Please….”

“Not yet baby.”

“Don’t be mean… You promised me—”

“A good time. And that’s exactly what you’ll get. But not like that.”

“Then what—Ah!”

Her cry of surprise tore the air as he grabbed her by the waist, lifted her in the air and carried towards the bedroom, miraculously avoiding all the stuff on the floor. Once in the room, with one hand around her, he threw the cover alongside every little thing on it onto the floor, making quite a noise. But what was a little background mess in comparison to the passion they were both experiencing right now.

They were clearly not friends now, but it was not important.

All the labels, unanswered questions and doubts left their heads as fast as their clothes started flying in all the directions. Bra on the lamp, boxers on the bedpost, shirt on the floor, a mess of clothes in the foot of the bed.

They didn’t care.

All that mattered at that moment was his lips on hers, her hands in his hair, the way his fingers kept pumping in and out of her prepping her for what was coming and the smell of her arousal in the air.

And those moans of pleasure that hit his ear made him hard enough to drill through the concrete.

“So wet…” he muttered

“So good!” she cried out arching her back, turning into a wanton, a bitch, not caring in the slightest about losing control. It felt good to just let go.

“Yeah?” he breathed out pulling fingers out of her, now coated with her juices. “Good?” Jason made sure to trace them up her body, spreading wetness on her stomach, her breasts with those deliciously pert nipples just begging to be abused and finally on her mouth. As if knowing she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from licking those plump red lips in a motion that was both innocent and obscene. “I'll show you good…”

With a groan, almost losing control, he spread her legs, hovering over her, leaning so close that his breath was hitting her face and his chest pressed against her breasts creating unbearable friction.

“Jason… Jason, please…” she squirmed, arched, begged and pleaded.

“I’ll give you everything you need…” he promised, leaning on forearms, slowly pushing inside her, mindful of every expression on her face. Only upon making sure she was feeling the pleasure and not the pain, his eyes moved lower, watching his cock disappear in her.

The dirty look that once again shuttered the fundamentals of his self-control.

“More!” she cried out, closing eyes, grabbing his shoulders, earning a groan from him.

“Fuckin more!”

There was no interim between bottoming out and adjusting to his size and frenzied pace of lovemaking. They just went from 0 to 100 in a blink of an eye.

He was gripping the headrest, too scared to touch her body In fear he’ll break her from the force. His forearms were straining from the power in those strong arms and Y/N knew he could snap her like a branch. Instead, somewhere deep inside that lust filled brain, he was still focused on her well being and safety.

Not that she could say the same about the way his cock was thrusting. Pulling in and out of her like she was made out of a rubber, shaping her to his girth, making sure to leave the memories of that night not only in her brain but also gouging the flutes on her pussy. For she was his.

Crying out his name

Touching him.

Letting him feel that tight wetness groping him like a vice.

So fucking tight only proving the point that she didn’t get nearly enough sex as she deserved.

“Tell me-“ he gasped, leaning his forehead on hers with sweaty hair clinging to it “How many times before you’ve came-“

“I – I don’t – I can’t-„ she cried out when he lifted her hips, changing the angle hitting deeper, harder, more intensely, effectively silencing all the thoughts. All she could focus on then was matching his pace, keeping that delicious stretch going, igniting the friction, running hands all over his back, holding him tight enough to not fly out into space right away.

“Tell me baby. I need you to say it.” He muttered between ragged breath, feeling his own release knocking at the door more and more stridently.

“Ne- never!” she cried out “Please!”

“Cum for me sweetheart.” He whispered in her ear with the silent promise of catching her and keeping her safe.

And he knew she believed him when her sobs, cries and gasps of climax filled the room, completing the scent of sex with the sound of pleasure.

Perfection incarnated in the form of a sin.

***

“Go on a date with me…”

Once they both came out from their high, laying side by side in the bed-

Once he dared to let out that soft side of his feelings, tracing circles on her sensitive body –

Once the arousal and horniness was gone-

There was no regret. No oh-my-god-what-have-we-done moment.

In fact, in some crazy way, it all seemed natural. Like both Jason and Y/N knew that it was bound to happen and their sex was not an accident or a mistake.

But a date?

“I’m serious, Y/N. Go on a date with me.”

“You don’t owe me—”

“It’s not about owing, baby. I want it. To be able to hold your hand in public, to beat to pulp every single guy that comes too close to you. To kiss you under the moonlight. To walk you home after and come upstairs just to cuddle on the couch together.”

“You sure?” she teased, laying her upper body on top of his, looking into his eyes with a happy smile “that would ruin your reputation as a cold and heartless motherfucker.”

"Some people are worth sacrificing like that…”

“Must be someone special.” Y/N whispered, her heart fluttering at the sensitivity Jason was expressing now.

“She is. A one in the million.” He tangled fingers in her hair, unable to tear his eyes from her naked form next to him.

The happiest fucker in the universe.

And to think she came to his place only to have a coke and complain about a bad date.

Coke and disappointment turning into a chance at a relationship.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd smut #red hood smut #jason todd x you #red hood x you #jason todd x y/n #red hood x y/n

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forever-rogue · 7 months ago

Note

I saw this one post on Twitter of how this girl’s bf pre-padded her underwear for her when she was in the shower and I thought it would be a cute idea if you wrote something like this for Eddie?

AN | No, but this is so sweet! Eddie would totally be that boyfriend. 💕

Warnings | Language, Reader has period

Pairing | Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.6k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You groaned as you flopped onto your bed, tired and hungry, and feeling like your insides were eating themselves. You laid there for a moment before, wondering if you could kick off your pants and just continue lying there. It was a feeble attempt and didn’t get you very far and it just made things even more uncomfortable.

“Fuck,” with a heavy sigh, you rolled onto your back and stared at your ceiling, breathing in and out slowly in order to attempt to quell your internal turmoil, “fuck.”

Before you could get up, your phone buzzed next to you. When you grabbed it and saw that there was a new text from Eddie, you immediately felt better. And then remembered that you were supposed to spend the night at his place tonight. Now you weren’t so sure that you should. Not that you were weirded out by having your period in front of Eddie, or that Eddie would be grossed out by it, you were genuinely feeling terrible…and mildly worried about Eddie witnessing you having your period.

But you really wanted to see Eddie. It had been a few days since you’d seen him, both of you busy with work and other fun adult things, and you’d been missing him a lot. You were going to see him, you decided, he was worth dealing with a little pain.

You texted him back and let him know that you’d be over soon, but also warned him that your period had started. Just in case you got there and fell asleep within minutes after eating a bar of chocolate.

After you managed to peel yourself off the bed, you packed your overnight bag and headed to Eddie’s apartment. If there was anything that could make you feel better it was Eddie and motrin. You’d consumed the one and were only a short drive away from the other.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Eddie opened the door for you before you even managed to knock, a pretty smile on his face and his big brown eyes alive and bright.

“Hey baby,” he took your bag from you before wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling in you for a sweet kiss, “missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too,” his sweet words always still managed to make your face warm up. You wrapped your arms around him and hugged tightly onto him, causing him to laugh softly. He set down your bag before hugging you back just as fiercely, before taking your face in his hands and peppering your face in gentle kisses.

“There’s my girl,” he whispered as finally managed to put a proper smile on your face, “I’m sorry you’re suffering. But I’m glad you’re here so I can hopefully make you feel better.”

“Just seeing you has made me feel better,” you promised, “besides, it’s not like you made me get my period.”

“No…but I can help you get rid of it,” it took you a moment to catch onto what he was saying - until you saw the smirk and raised eyebrow on his face, “for a while anyway.”

“I…Eddie,” you playfully shoved him as the two of you laughed, your face warm at the idea of getting pregnant by him, “first of all - you’re the worst. And second of all, let’s get back to that discussion in a few years.”

He didn’t say anything but he managed to make a small sound in the back of the throat, that sounded almost strained. He was immediately struggling not to let his mind wander too far in that direction just yet, “yeah - yeah, c’mon. Tell me how to make it better. Have you eaten? Are you hydrated? Need a nap?”

“Yes…ish to both of those,” you offered him a sheepish expression as you walked into the kitchen to get yourself some water. He trailed after you with an incredulous look on his face. He definitely wouldn’t have been able to handle it as well as you, “I’ve been working and dying, Eddie. I haven’t had time to worry about anything!”

“Well, how about you let me make it better? I’m going to make dinner and you’re going to take a nice, hot shower,” he started to usher you towards the bathroom, “I’ve heard that can help. So hopefully it does. I got that body wash and shampoo and conditioner that you like too. You’re here enough anyway, figured it’d be nice for you to have some stuff here.”

“You did that for me?” you turned around and looked at him with wide eyes as he slowly nodded. Your heart warmed; you had been spending more and more time at his place and it was nice to have things moving in that direction. You did want to move in with him soon - everytime you imagined your future it was always with Eddie. You sighed softly, “that’s so sweet, Eddie. Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” he insisted, “I just want you to be comfortable and feel better.”

“Do you know one thing that would help even more?” you offered him a coy smile which was answered with a soft laugh.

“You want some of my clothes for pajamas?” he asked as you nodded eagerly, “one step ahead of you. I’ve got a fresh towel and clean clothes for you in the towel warmer.”

Before he met you, he’d never have even considered a towel warmer. Hell, he didn’t even know that people actually owned them. It seemed like such a ridiculous luxury, and maybe it was, but he was willing to listen. You’d insisted that he needed one and that they were totally worth it…the next time you were over at his place, he’d bought a towel warmer.

“You are amazing, Eddie Munson,” you pulled him in for a kiss and let your lips linger against his. His arms wrapped around you without hesitation as he kissed you a few more times, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” his big brown eyes grew soft as he practically turned to putty in your arms, “now go and get comfy and warm and I’ll make dinner.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Eddie had gone in and turned on the shower, turning it to the perfect temper. You’d shaken your head at him, but before he left you to your own devices, he helped you to gently strip off your clothes. It was such a small, intimate thing, but it meant so much to you. Once you were rid of all your clothing, Eddie held your hand as you stepped into the shower. He gave you a small kiss before heading back to the kitchen to finish dinner.

When Eddie had said that he’d purchased a few of your things to keep at his place, he wasn’t kidding. Along with the things he used, where all the things you loved and kept at your own apartment were in the shower. He was always doing things like this, things that he thought were so small and insignificant but that meant so much to you.

You took your sweet time to get clean, relishing the feel of the hot water on your skin before reluctantly stepping out of the shower. Once you stepped out of the shower and opened the towel warmer, you were greeted by the sight of a big, fluffy towel along with a fresh set of Eddie's clothes. They happened to be some of your favorites that you often stole from him.

But it was the sight on the countertop that caught your eye and piqued your curiosity. It was clean underwear that happened to have a fresh pad stuck to it. You raised an eyebrow but your heart melted at the gesture. Eddie had this planned all along.

You dried yourself off and slipped on the clean underwear and clothes before slipping out of the bathroom. You heard Eddie in the kitchen, singing softly to himself as he shuffled around. You loved this man. Truly, fully, so much that it made your heart ache.

He stopped as soon as he heard you, looking up to catch your eye and offer you a small smile. He looked so pretty with his hair piled on top of his in a bun, sporting a pair of gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt. It was ridiculous the effect the simple clothing had on you.

“Hey baby,” he whispered softly, “feeling better?”

“Much,” you confirmed as you went over to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “thank you for everything. The underwear…where did you get that idea? I wasn't expecting it, but it was really nice. No one’s ever done anything like that for me.”

“It wasn’t…a big deal,” his cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink as he tried to play it off, “I, umm, I saw some people mention it on twitter and yeah. It was just an idea. You’re dealing with enough right now, so it just seemed like an easy thing to do.”

“Well, I appreciate it very much,” you promised, gently nudging his hip with yours, “I appreciate you very much, Eddie. Thank you.”

He mumbled something in response as he focused his attention on his pan. He wasn’t one to look for praise and you knew that the attention sometimes made him shy. You made sure he knew just how much you loved and cherished him.

You grabbed some plates and helped him to finish up dinner. He tried to protest but you ignored him; you wanted to help him. You liked working together, you were a team after all.

When he grabbed plates and piled them with food, you were excited to see that he had made your favorites. He had really gone all out just to make you feel better.

The two of you took your time eating, before moving to the couch and cuddling up next to each other. You were tucked into Eddie’s side with his arm around you, your favorite place to be, with a big, warm blanket thrown over the two of you. Eddie had let you take your pick of what to watch and you’d settled on a true crime documentary. He never understood why you were able to relax to such things, but he never questioned it. He just enjoyed it along with you.

You made it about halfway through the first episode of the series before you felt yourself nodding off. You tried to fight it but eventually gave in and let yourself fall asleep. Eddie hadn’t been surprised, but glad you were able to relax. He paused the show and made sure you were as comfortable as possible as he let you sleep for a bit. Before it got too late, he’d wake you up to go to bed.

Eddie pressed a kiss to the top of your head, making sure you were as comfortable as possible. You were still semi-aware, in that almost asleep but still mildly awake state, and you were almost positive that you heard Eddie singing softly under his breath. It was sweet, warm and rich, and you were pulled into the siren’s call of slumber and fell asleep.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed before you were gently woken by Eddie. You blinked a few times to clear away the bleariness and found him smiling at you. He gently brushed some of your hair out of your face, brushing his knuckles tenderly against your cheek.

“I think it’s time for bed, huh pretty girl?” he whispered as you nodded meekly. Getting into bed and wrapped up with him sounded like almost heaven. You slowly climbed up and off the couch, stretching slowly to wake up your tired bones and muscles. Eddie follow up suit before wrapped his arms around your waist and slowly padding along with you to his bedroom, “wanna know a secret?”

“Tell me,” you murmured as he pressed a big kiss to your cheek, causing you to laugh softly.

“I always sleep better with you,” he confessed softly, almost unsure if he should have admitted it to you, “I can’t wait till we can sleep together every night.”

That was enough to make your heart flutter with excitement and nerves. Eddie was definitely part of your future, but it still made you feel good to know that you were part of his too.

“Me too, Eddie,” you promised and then you remembered your current predicament, “oh. Are you sure you want me to sleep in your bed?”

“Umm,” he looked at you, brows creasing in confusion, “yes? Why wouldn’t I?”

“What if I….bleed on your sheets or something?” your face warmed up as you tried not to think about the embarrassment you’d feel if that actually happened, “I don’t want to make it gross.”

“Baby,” so soft and tender that it almost made you cry, “I’m not worried about a little blood. It’s not disgusting or gross at all. If it happens, we’ll wash the sheets and call it a day. The only thing I’m worried about is making sure you’re doing okay.”

“I….yeah,” you looked at him with teary eyes and he smiled fondly at you before wiping away the tears that rolled down your cheeks, “I’m doing alright. Because of you - you’ve made me feel a lot better.”

“And to think you were going to cancel on me,” he tutted softly as he ushered you into the bedroom and started to turn down the bed, “you know you never have to hide anything from me. I want to hear everything, all the good and all the bad.”

“I know,” you admitted softly, “it seems so silly now.”

“Well you are a member of the silly goose society,” he kissed the tip of your nose as you snorted in amusement, “anything else you need before we get in bed?”

“I just have to use the bathroom and then I’ll be good to go,” you started padding towards the bathroom. Eddie trailed after you, already reaching into the cabinet under the sink to grab a fresh pad for you. You reached for it to replace the one you had just tossed into the trash but Eddie didn’t let you take it, instead sticking it into your underwear for you, “thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he whispered, “it’s not a big deal at all. Need some painkillers or anything?”

“I just need you,” you grinned, washing your hands before letting Eddie pulled back towards the bed.

“You’re in luck,” he slid under the covers, holding them up so you could get in after him, “I’m all yours and I’m ready to cuddle.”

“Sounds perfect,” Eddie immediately pulled you into his arms, tangling his limbs with yours. You relaxed and melted into him, his warm body having a soothing effect on yours, “I love you, Eddie.”

“I love you too, baby,” he wrapped his arm around your waist and pressed a row of kisses to your shoulder, “get some rest. And if you need anything at all, just tell me, okay?”

“I will,” you squeezed his hand, “promise me you’ll always tell me if you need anything too.”

“I promise always,” he said through a yawn that you ended up echoing, “good night, sweetheart.”

“Good night, Eddie.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson one shot #st #joseph quinn

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just-dreaming-marvel · 2 months ago

Text

Bodyguard

MAIN MASTERLIST / MARVEL MASTERLIST

Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Word Count: 3,565ish

Request: Yay, I'm so glad you're taking requests for Wolverine! Could you write about Logan being in love with reader but he's very emotionally constipated and also thinks she doesn't feel the same... but it's like very obvious to everyone they like each other but they're both oblivious and emotionally constipated so they don't act on their feelings. And everyone's just so done with them both, so they always put them together in missions to see if somethings sparks. And eventually she gets hurt in some mission, he panics and finally finally confesses in a panic like "you can't die on me, I love you, stay with me" sort of thing and they finally get together

Warnings: almost drowning, bullet wounds, overprotective behavior

Notes: This is my first time publishing anything that I've ever written for Logan. Hopefully it isn't complete trash. Sorry if it is trash. Let me know if you enjoyed it!

The water features in the garden always seemed to call to you. Whenever you could, you were out there next to them. Like right now, it was a nice day and you had taken the class outside for their English lesson. As you spoke, the water behind you would change to match the scenes you were describing. You were so enthralled with what you were teaching, that you didn’t even notice you were doing it. At least, that’s what Logan believed as he watched you from the balcony of the school.

Your passion for what you taught and your ability always amazed him. When he wasn’t busy himself, Logan often found himself watching you teach. Which is where Jean found him, a small smirk on her lips.

“You could just walk over there, you know?” Jean teased. “I’m sure Y/N wouldn’t mind."

“Don’t want to interrupt her lesson,” Logan muttered, still focusing on you.

“You are never an interruption to her.”

His brows furrowed as he glanced at Jean. “Do you need something?”

“The Professor wants us all in his office once Y/N’s class is over. Are you okay to tell her?”

Logan nodded, immediately heading down to the gardens. Jean couldn’t help but shake her head and smile. You and Logan were so oblivious to each other’s feelings, it was cute. Getting closer to your class, Logan slowed down to not interrupt. He slipped into an empty seat as you wrapped up.

“Read the last few chapters for the next class,” you told the students. “Class dismissed.”

The students gathered their things and walked back to the mansion. You gathered your items and stuffed them into your bag. Getting ready to leave, you noticed Logan sitting in one of the chairs.

“Logan,” you greeted with a smile, “what are you doing out here?”

“The Professor wants us all to meet in his office right now,” Logan responded, standing from the chair.

“Do you know what for?”

“Not a clue.”

“We better head there then.”

The two of you began walking in comfortable silence. It wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to be around each other without saying a word. Your brain often short-circuited around Logan, and you didn’t know why. You were an English teacher, words were your thing, except when it came to Logan. It was slightly embarrassing. Thankfully, only Jean and Ororo had occasionally teased you about it.

When the two of you reached the Professor’s office, Logan held the door open for you. You muttered a soft ‘thank you’ before you took one of the empty seats on the side of the room. Logan took the seat beside you. His arms folded over his chest as the Professor began discussing a possible mission. You did your best to listen while watching Logan from the corner of your eye. His eyes had closed and his head hung. Soft snores were coming from him. You felt bad for Logan. With your rooms right next to each other, you could hear the nightmares that plagued him. Logan barely got any sleep. You weren’t going to wake him now.

Your breath hitched as Logan’s head suddenly fell to your shoulder. You tried to keep as still as you could, allowing him to get some rest. Trying to listen to the Professor and others discuss the possible mission was now a lost cause. Logan was asleep on your shoulder.

It wasn’t long before you noticed that the conversation in the room had died down and everyone was staring at you and Logan.

“I think we’re done for the day,” Charles said with a smirk. “We’ll let you two be alone.”

“Wait—“ You squeaked as everyone quickly and quietly left the Professor’s office.

Logan barely moved, remaining asleep. His head was growing heavier on your shoulder, reminding you that his skeleton was infused with adamantium. You couldn’t wake him though, Logan needed the rest. As carefully as you could, you reached down, grabbed a book from your bag, and began reading.

~~~

Logan groaned, brows furrowing. His eyes were closed but he could tell that his head was resting on something—or someone. He didn’t remember falling asleep. The last thing he remembered was being in the Professor’s office. Suddenly, Logan’s eyes snapped open and his head snapped up. He looked over and saw you sheepishly smiling back at him.

“Hey,” you quietly said.

He glanced around. It was now evening and the two of you were still in the Professor’s office. Logan’s mind quickly pieced together that he had fallen asleep on you hours ago and you had let him.

“I’ve got to go,” Logan’s voice was gruff as he stood up and rushed out of the room.

You couldn’t help but be a little hurt that he didn’t stay longer and talk. You honestly wished he had.

~~~

Logan avoided you for the next week. You couldn’t understand how he was doing it. You could hear him, walking and talking, but you were never able to see him. It stung to know that he was avoiding you and you couldn’t figure out why.

One night, you couldn’t sleep. Your thoughts were racing with the thoughts of Logan. You walked out to the gardens and over to the large pond on the property. You needed to get some frustration out in some way. With your water manipulation mutation, you were not quite a master yet. Manipulating large bodies of water, including the pond you were standing in front of, took a lot out of you. You didn’t care though, you just needed to let some emotions go.

Lifting your hands, you summoned the water, causing it all to shoot up into the air. You let out a scream as you did, already trembling due to the energy needed. You twisted your hands, causing the water to twist together in a large spiral. You continued to spin it together as you stepped into the muddy pond. The water was spinning faster and faster as it grew higher, your emotions taking control of it all.

As you continued closer to the spiral, you failed to look at your feet. Suddenly, you tripped over a rock. You fell, hitting your head on a rock and knowing yourself out. The water suddenly fell back into the pond, making a loud splash as you were buried.

~~~

Logan couldn’t sleep. He hadn’t been able to since he had fallen asleep on your shoulder. He had also been avoiding you. Logan felt awkward having used you as a pillow. When he woke up, he didn’t know what to say or do, he just felt the need to get out of there. He was too embarrassed to look you in the eye or to confront the growing feelings that continued to stir inside of him.

So instead of sleeping, Logan found himself wandering through the gardens. Thinking of you. He was surprisingly deep in thought when a large splash came from the direction of the pond. Logan rushed over to see the water still splashing like it was trying to settle back into the pond. As he came closer, Logan noticed that someone was floating in the water. It was you.

Before he could even think, Logan dove into the water and pulled your face to the surface.

“Y/N, sweetheart,” he tried to shake you the best he could while keeping you both afloat.

Logan’s heart dropped when he noticed the large gash on your head that was oozing with blood. Keeping you secure to him with one arm, Logan swam over to the edge of the pond and pulled you onto the grass.

“Logan!” Jean shouted, rushing over with Scott and Ororo. Jean had woken up with a deep sense of dread which then caused her to wake Scott and go looking for the others. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Logan admitted. “I was on a walk and then heard a splash and found her in the pond.”

“Scott, start CPR.”

Scott quickly did as he was instructed. Ororo set a hand on Logan’s back as he stared at your face. Even as you finally coughed up water, Logan didn’t feel any relief.

“We need to get her to the lab,” Jean stated.

Before anything else could be said, Logan had you in his arms and was carrying you to the lab. The others followed with the Professor meeting them in the lab. Logan set you down on the exam table but didn’t leave your side.

“I need space to work, Logan,” Jean said as she readied equipment.

“I’m not leaving her said,” he responded.

“Fine,” she sighed. “Just give me enough space to work.”

Jean worked quickly to get you on oxygen and hooked up with tubes and wires. The Professor sat by your head and placed his hands on it. Closing his eyes, he searched your brain for what had happened.

“She exhausted herself,” the Professor stated, eyes still closed as he worked through your mind. “She was trying to get some frustration out and used the water in the pond to do so. She ended up tripping and hitting her head on a rock.”

“She shouldn’t have been out there alone,” grumbled Logan.

“No, she shouldn’t have.” The Professor opened his eyes and pulled his hands away. “Y/N should be fine.”

“Yes,” Jean agreed. “She’ll just need to be monitored for a day or two.”

“We can take shifts,” Ororo suggested.

“I’ll go first,” Logan said, with no room for argument. He pulled a chair over and planted himself next to you.

The others heading out to try and get some rest.

“Why was she out there though?” Scott questioned. “She knows better than to try to do something like that on her own.”

“That is something Y/N can answer for herself,” the Professor replied. “Let’s all hope that something happens between Logan and Y/N before another incident does.”

~~~

Groaning, you began to come to. The bright lights seeping through your eyelids and the smell led you to realize that you were in the lab. You tried to move your arm to cover your eyes but soon realized that you had an IV in it.

“Hold still,” a gruff voice ordered.

“The lights,” you rasped.

Heavy footsteps were quick to hit the light switch before coming back to your side. You finally blinked a few times before completely opening your eyes. Logan was hovering over you, his face showing no real signs of concern besides his eyes.

“What were you thinking?” Logan asked.

You let out a little whine as you moved to sit up. Logan’s hand was on your shoulder in a second, pushing you back down.

“Logan, I’m fine,” you told him. “My head simply hurts.”

“You could have drowned,” Logan continued. “You know that you're not strong enough to handle something like that. Why were you out there alone?”

“I just needed to let some frustration out… and I couldn’t sleep.” Logan opened his mouth to say something, but you quickly cut him off. “I’m tired now though. Can I rest more?”

“Fine,” Logan sighed, sitting back down.

“You can g—“

“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.”

~~~

Even once you were cleared by Jean, Logan wouldn’t leave your side. He was silently brooding a few steps behind you whenever he wasn’t teaching a class himself. If you were in your room, Logan was in his own, listening in to make sure everything was okay. It should have been suffocating, but it wasn’t.

You began to work harder to gain more endurance with your mutation. Logan was always there to help you. During training, Logan would talk to you the most, but it was only in criticism and hints on how to help you. Ororo and Jean often were there to help you and guide you. When they could, they would tease you about your newfound bodyguard and you would brush them off.

After about two and a half weeks, you were beginning to worry about Logan. Only because he was still following you around and barely speaking to you.

“It seems you’ve lost your bodyguard for a moment,” Ororo stated as she came to sit beside you in the kitchen.

You looked over your shoulder, noticing that she was right. “Seems I have. But probably not for long.”

“Have the two of you talked at all?”

“Only during training and only about training.”

“Have you tried to talk to him?” You simply shrugged. “The two of you need to figure whatever you have out. It’s…well, frankly, it’s getting weird. Why don’t you tell him how you feel?”

You shook your head. “I can’t do that.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s Logan and he definitely doesn’t feel the same way.”

“Oh, sweetie, you are oblivious. You should at least tell him to back off.”

“He’ll back off eventually.”

Ororo sighed. “You need to deal with this.”

“There’s nothing that needs dealing with.”

“Y/N—“

You suddenly stood up. “I got to go.”

You rushed out of the room as Logan went to enter it. You brushed passed him, ignoring his concerned look as you headed for your room. Logan’s hands clenched as he forced himself to not reach out to you and pull you into him. Once you were a good enough space away, he followed after you. Jean was quick to step in his way as you slipped into your bedroom.

Jean was clearly not amused with Logan’s actions. “You need to just tell her already,” she said. “This whole—stalking thing, needs to end.”

“I’m not stalking her,” Logan argued.

“Then what are you doing?”

“I’m watching out for her. Making sure she doesn’t try to overwork herself again.”

Jean sighed. “You care about Y/N, that much is clear. Well, to everyone but her. You need to be honest with her about your feelings. You can’t just follow her around without speaking forever.”

“Watch me.”

~~~

The silent following continued for another week, with the tension between you and Logan growing. One night, you couldn’t sleep again and found yourself heading back to the pond. You were so caught up in your own thoughts, that you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings. Suddenly, you rammed into something sturdy and before you could figure out what it was, hands grasped onto your arms.

“Where do you think you're going?” There was a hint of anger in Logan’s tone.

“Uh, to the pond,” you replied quietly. Looking up at Logan, you could tell that this wouldn’t be a winning conversation.

“Not a chance.”

“Logan, I’m fine. Seriously, I—“

“You’re not going to the pond.”

“You’re being ridiculous. I’m just trying to clear my head.”

“Last time you went to the pond, I had to drag your floating body.”

You sighed. “I made a mistake, Logan. I’m not going to use my powers right now, I only want to be near the water.” You tried to go around Logan, only for him to move with you. “This isn’t funny.”

“Good thing I’m not joking.”

You shook your head, growing angry. “You are not in charge of me, Logan. Let me through.”

“Not a chance, sweetheart. You’re going back inside.”

“No, I am not!” The anger was controlling your powers, the water features nearby shooting water in various directions. “I am so sick of your silent following and then stepping in like I need to listen to you.”

“It would do you well to listen to me, sweetheart.”

“Doubt it.” Logan’s jaw clenched and you could tell that you’d hit a cord. “Leave me alone, Logan. I don’t need a bodyguard.”

You turned on your heel and headed back inside, leaving Logan standing in the gardens.

~~~

Logan was back to avoiding you and you absolutely hated it. You felt some guilt about it, especially the more you missed his presence. It was a few days before you saw him and it was only because the Professor had called you all into his office for a mission briefing. Once again, the only open seat was beside you and Logan opted to stand by the door.

The Professor explained the mission: to save some kidnapped mutant kids from an old warehouse. Dangerous humans were guarding the warehouse and experimenting on the children. The X-men were needed to rescue them.

“Scott will stay with the jet,” the Professor explained, “while Jean and Storm will pair off and Logan and Y/N.”

“Y/N?” Logan’s question almost sounded like a scoff. “She’s still harnessing her powers.”

You wanted to disappear right then and there. Especially when Jean glanced at you like she knew Logan was breaking your heart.

“You know for yourself, Logan, that Y/N has worked hard to grow her powers,” Charles defended. “She is ready.”

You couldn’t help but be hurt by the look Logan gave you before he left the room. You knew that things weren’t easy between the two of you, but you had hoped he would have been better about it. It was a stupid hope.

~~~

Logan wouldn’t look at you the entire jet ride to the warehouse. And when the two of you headed out, he led the way without a glance back to see if you were there. Once the two of you were in the warehouse, Logan focused on fighting the humans off while you freed the children.

You led the children out of the warehouse, where more armed men were waiting. As quickly as you could, you threw up a wall of water, trying to slow the humans down as the children ran for the jet.

“Logan!” You shouted as you used all of your energy to strengthen the wall. “Hurry!”

You could hear Logan still fighting in the warehouse and you could only open he was almost done. You turned your head to check and while you did so, two bullets broke through your barrier and hit you in the abdomen. You inhaled sharply as you fell to the ground, water splashing all around you as your barrier fell as well.

“Y/N!” Logan screamed as he watched you fall.

He roared as he quickly attacked the remaining guards, killing them with swift hits of his claws. Once he was done, his claws retracted and he rushed to your side.

“Shit,” he muttered.

You let out a painful chuckle. “Guess I… did need… that… bodyguard…” You whined as Logan pressed his hands against your wounds.

“You’re not dying on me, sweetheart.”

“I’ll… try…” Every inch of you felt like it was burning. Your eyes were growing heavier with each passing second and everything was becoming fuzzy.

“Stay with me, Y/N… I can’t lose you. I love you… Stay with me.”

“You… love… me…”

“Just stay with me, sweetheart.” You couldn’t stop yourself from slipping into unconsciousness. “No, no, no, no, no!”

“Y/N! Logan!” Ororo yelled as she searched for the two of you. As soon as she laid eyes on the two of you, her heart dropped. “Logan, get her to the jet. Now!”

~~~

Deja vu. That’s what it felt like when the scent of the lab hit your nose and the blinding lights could be seen through your eyelids. You let out a groan, wanting to move, but your body felt weighed down.

“Don’t move, sweetheart,” Logan’s voice was strong though still fuzzy in your ears.

“L—L—Logan?” You rasped, slowly opening your eyes.

There Logan was, hovering over you looking like hell. It was clear he hadn’t slept in far too long and the more you looked at him, the sooner you realized he was still in his suit from the mission. You licked your dry lips and swallowed as you continued to stare at him.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like death.”

His lips were quickly in a firm line. “Not funny. You… you did die… You died in my arms on the jet… you’ve been asleep for over a week now.”

“How did I…”

“How did you survive? Jean and Hank worked miracles.”

“I’ll have to thank them.”

Logan’s gaze suddenly changed into something you couldn’t quite name. “I was so scared,” he whispered, closing his eyes.

You grabbed his hand the best you could. “I’m sorry… I wish you didn’t have to see any of that… but I am glad you were there.”

“I should have been by your side the entire time. I could have taken the bullets.”

“I shouldn’t have pushed you away… you had every right to be worried about me after I almost drowned… I’ve missed my bodyguard.”

“It’s not your fault, sweetheart. I know that I was a bit overwhelming.”

“A bit?”

“Okay, a lot.”

“Got that right.” The two of you fell into silence. Your thumb rubbed against the back of Logan’s hand as you thought about something. “Logan?”

“Mmm?”

“Did you… did you really say that you love me?”

Logan inhaled sharply as his eyes searched yours for what answer to say. “Yes… I did.”

“And do you mean it?”

He sighed. “I do.”

You smiled. “Good because I love you too.”

A large smile, uncommon to Logan, grew over his face. “You do?”

“Of course I do.” He leaned down at softly kissed your lips. “I know that I was frustrated before, but please don’t leave my side again.”

“Never again, sweetheart.”

#marvel fanfiction #marvel x reader #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x y/n #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett x mutant reader #logan howlett x mutant!reader #logan howlett x f!reader #logan howlett x female!reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine x you #wolverine x y/n

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astrophileous · 1 year ago

Note

Hmmmmm for Hotch maybe him lowkey coddling reader when she gets hurt shortly during a case shortly after they start dating? Maybe the team wasn’t aware until they saw him fret this much when he had never done it to this level in the past? 🥹

Thanks for the request babes!! My first Aaron fic ever, so hopefully it's not too bad for a first 🥺 I hope this is to your liking ❤️

Warning(s): gn!reader, established relationship, talks of traffic accident, mentions of injuries, protective hotch, mean words (hotch is just worried abt you ok??)

This blurb was written as a part of the "Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K" celebration.

Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

You heard him before you even laid eyes upon him.

Amidst the beeping machines and the moderate ruckus of the emergency room, Aaron's voice penetrated the air like a sword. The authority dripped like lava from his tone as he badgered Derek for your whereabouts, and before you could shuffle out of the hospital bed that had been your safe haven for the past hour, the cubical curtain surrounding you was suddenly yanked open.

Your movements ceased once you locked eyes with a frowning Aaron Hotchner.

"Hey—"

"Are you insane?"

You looked at him dumbfoundedly.

"Do you have a death wish? Is that it? Or are you just stupid?"

A few feet behind him, you could see Derek and Emily exchanging silent looks between the two of them. Everyone knew that Aaron was notorious for being frigid, and he had a strong impartiality when it came to any of his team members doing something impetuous on the field, but the words seeping out of Aaron's mouth at that moment sounded overtly harsh to those who knew him.

"Hotch—" Derek took a step forward, trying to come to your defense, "—it's not (Y/N)'s fault."

"I'm not talking to you." Aaron's response was cutting and final. It baffled Derek enough for him to trace his step back.

"What's wrong with you?" you asked once the shock dissipated, returning your voice to its rightful owner once more. "Why are you being like this?"

"Me? You're asking me? I should be the one asking you."

Your eyebrows pulled together in confusion. "We were chasing the UnSub—"

"You went rogue," he cut you off. "Morgan told me everything. There's no point in denying it."

Derek raised his arms in surrender when your stare of betrayal slid his way. "Fine. I'm sorry I grabbed a random civilian's bike and crashed it against the UnSub's car. You don't have to worry about paying anything back, I'll figure something out."

"Is that what you think this is about?" Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose. "I could care less about monetary compensations. We can deal with that later. You could've been killed, don't you understand?"

It was his last admission that finally made the pieces in your head click into place. Beneath the anger inside Aaron's words was actually a hidden anxiety ready to break free. He was worried about you, even if he was showing it in the least hospitable way possible.

Your relationship with Aaron was young; green around the edges and blooming every single day like tulips in spring. Nobody else in the world knew about it yet, and the two of you wanted to keep it that way. At least, that was what you agreed upon after having that lengthy discussion following your first official date.

And yet, none of that mattered when your fingers opted to reach out for Aaron's hand. You pretended not to notice the gasp that Emily let out as you urged your boyfriend to look into your eyes.

"I know you're worried, but I'm fine. I'm right here with you, and I'm okay." Aaron's shoulders physically collapsed at your reassurance. Every other noise in the hospital seemed to drown out in the aftermath. "The doctor's gonna clear me in no time, trust me."

"It still doesn't erase the fact that what you did was reckless." Aaron stepped closer towards the bed, overcrowding your senses as his thumb swept over your left eyebrow, just below the wound you had obtained from the crash. "Does it hurt?"

You shook your head no. The injury to your head was relatively minor. Your arm, on the other hand, was sustaining a quite sizable gash from your collision with the car.

Aaron's eyes followed your gaze that had meandered towards the gauze covering your arm. "How many stitches?"

Reluctantly, you answered, "Seven."

You heard his sharp breath before he turned around to face Derek. "Where's the UnSub now?"

Derek jerked his head to the right, where you reckoned the UnSub was being treated for their own injuries from the crash. The words of protest died in your throat as Aaron began to saunter to the other end of the ER with Derek hot on his heels.

With the two men's departure, Emily was the only one who remained.

"So—" she smiled knowingly, leaning against the foot of your bed, "—you and Hotch? When did that happen?"

You slammed your head back on the pillow, muffling your groan with your uninjured arm. "Shut up."

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comfortless · 8 months ago

Note

I already sent you an ask today so hiiii

(Alright so now I hopefully have your attention, imagine: ancient settling, mercenary könig is made prisoner and enslaved and reader, a cute noble girl, buys him to ☆have fun☆. He doesn't mind at all.)

Have a good day!

anon whoever you are… every message that you have sent has been like you putting a clawing animal in my brain. all of these concepts are so good. sorry it took me a bit to get around to this one. <:•)

captured mercenary! König x noblewoman! reader

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. medieval au (so: gender role nonsense), slightly mean slightly pathetic König, very brief mentions of violence/beheading, masturbation.

“That one.”

You hear yourself speak without thought. Your voice is shy, almost. It’s unbecoming of your station to seem so meek… even as you eye the men lined up before you like cattle prepped for slaughter.

Prisoners, they were. All apart from the one you had chosen would be little more than toys for the executioner after what they’ve done: to think that such a little band of mercenaries would even be planning for a siege… ridiculous. Most of the men have already had their hair cut cleanly away from their necks in preparation for the blade that would be slicing past each vertebrae and layer of muscle to chop away their heads.

This one is saved only because he’s been stripped of his armors, and though his face is rather rugged… there’s strength beneath his skin and such a deep misery in his eyes it sets your chest ablaze with pity. He could be useful, a willing servant if you could only save him from what terrible thing haunts him.

Maybe it’s the old wounds that flare his skin with the raised flesh of scar tissue, perhaps it’s the harelip or the wild thing set between his thighs where he’s forced to kneel. It catches your eye, that last one…

The prisoner’s jaw sets when your finger does point his way, blue eyes narrow just a fraction as realization settles in the pit of his stomach. No freedom to be garnered here, no love, nothing but that blade he had intended to use against you sworn to you instead. If the giant spit at your feet then, it would be expected, welcomed almost with the way your chest roars with sympathy.

He only stares.

You pay off his captors with a few silver coins and watch as they lead him bound to your side. His arms are tied too tightly before him, muscles slack with exertion after trying to fight the ropes for what must have been hours. Whether he sees you as savior or something revolting remains unknown. He doesn’t speak, not even as a servant leads him into the back of your carriage and you step inside after him, holding up the middle of your gown as to not sully it with the dirt and old blood splattered over the stones layered for street.

When the horses begin to move you give the man a proper once over, hiding your smile beneath a handkerchief, free hand curled into the lap of your skirts. He’s not just tall and broad, but incredibly well endowed. Not just sad and downtrodden, but pissed, though the only tell remains his shaking fists. His gaze never meets yours for longer than a moment before it settles back to gaze at the passing tall grass and sheep prancing about the fields, but each time that it does… there is no denying the mixture of confusion, maybe even attraction upon his face.

Your home was something this giant had never had a taste of prior to you: a castle atop a hill, charming and stone with its high ramparts and blunt roof. You didn’t need his confirmation in words, though you do ask and get nothing in turn.

The carriage pulls you right through the gate and it is almost cute the way that this man’s eyes seem to wander as he takes it all in. There are other servants tending to the sheep and horses, the smell of fire and the chiming of blade meeting blade ringing out as men spar, there are cats to keep away pests and modest but cozy homes, a tavern, an inn all beyond the wall. A small city of your own: all for the perfect little noblewoman that you were.

The only thing that you lacked was the trained sword of a man to ensure your safety, and now you had that, too.

You explain to him his place here, the role that he would take for the price you paid as you both disembark from the wooden carriage. He would be fitted for armor donning your family’s crest come the morning, whipped into obedience should he dare raise a hand toward any one here. You even think to warn him of the executioner’s sloppy work, how he may even live with his head chopped only halfway off should you request it…. some horror you had heard one of the travelers speak of.

As the weeks pass, König does begin to settle immensely. His speech is disjointed and parsed, his mother tongue muddled with your own language in a way that is cute… terribly, horribly cute.

He’s intelligent and strong: spends much of his time out amongst the lower men aiding with the animals and teaching them the deft way he swings his blade. It is an art form in its own right, the way that he paints the air with swift strokes… For a woman to fawn over a man’s swordplay was absurd, but it was impossible not to enjoy when he taunts and jabs the way that he does.

He rarely wears that armor the blacksmith crafted for him, both a flattery and an insult. You don’t mind watching him best smaller men in solely his trousers, pressing their faces into the muck while he barks his insults to them in words they can not understand. To you, now, when he flashes the most beastly of grins in your direction and utters the words, “Verpiss dich.”

You aren’t even certain why you stand there rather than hissing out orders to have him taken away. Your stupid corset feels too tight, gown too small, and your chest aches. There's not been a thing you could do to have this man do more than simply tolerate you. He sleeps within his own room in the castle, eats his fill and then some, you talk to him and layer your words with praise. He has not once been punished for anything. Not even now.

“Come here,” you demand without thought, walking down the staircase to cross the yard with your hands balled into delicate fists at your sides.

Your giant only looks confused for a moment as he clambers off of the man he’s just wrestled to the earth and rights himself. His eyebrows raise, his nostrils flare… and then he laughs. At you like you’re the most puny of rabbits, hardly a threat. Your betters would have laughed too at just how fragile you sound, on the cusp of tears over what? Some ridiculous little crush on a captive soldier??

He eventually does as you ask, stomping over to stand before you- not kneel, he never knelt. If his height and stature were meant to intimidate… your god would have to forgive the thoughts that muddle your head then, like filthy water as you drink him in.

“Was…?”

So you explain to him as best you can just how insolent he’s being, how horribly he repays your kindness, how he would be dead on some shrouded mountain pass or have his body tossed into the river if not for you. You explain your heart out when tears come to your eyes and spring forth as your chittering continues, and you don’t even know if the moron can understand; he only stands there with the wildest grin on his face when he sees you beginning to sniffle and sob.

“Was?,” he demands again, blunt even as he takes your face into one of his large hands, turns your head to brush a tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Why are you crying?”

“You need to learn your place!” And you know you’re being a hypocrite, that a proper lady should never allow a man to touch her like this, look at her the way that König does. You should call for a servant to have him dragged through the yard and whipped… or worse, but your voice only comes in a crestfallen whisper.

He shrugs those massive shoulders, rolls his neck and huffs a breath as he gazes down at you before his hand falls to his side and he merely walks away. That’s it.

Though you had the hopes that your warning had been taken seriously, the days following seem even worse.

König abandons his duties and takes up the most horrendous idea of courtship that he can muster. If courtship is even what it could be considered. It is more like a direct taunt, a jab now that he’s been made perfectly aware just how fragile the maiden he was sold to guard is.

He takes liberties once you’ve bedded down each night, your dresses stripped away to be replaced with a plain linen gown with nothing beneath: your only protection in the form of the wooden door between you two because König is no protector.

It always starts with the sound of spitting into his palm, then a drawn out sigh that rises to a near-animalistic groan. Sometimes he speaks, other times the soft, wet sounds rise in tempo until all that comes from his mouth are sharp hisses and whines.

This night proves to be the worst.

The wood creaks under his weight as he leans back against the door, stroking himself to the thought of you behind it. He makes it apparent when he breathes your name, low and shaky as you squeeze your eyes closed and pretend to not hear the words that follow.

“Scheiße… bet you’re tight,” he hisses between his depraved whimpers, the slick sounds increasing even as he rights himself to stand proper. You can almost hear the way he salivates, can almost imagine the way his jaw must fall slack and his eyes go dazed as he pleasures himself… you squeeze your thighs shut.

“Ja… you want it too, huh…” The bastard is most assuredly imagining you, knelt before him with the most helpless, reverent gaze as you plead for him. It should make you ill, yet it only stokes a fire in your belly, one that bridges between rage and need. “Ich will dich ficken…”

Your breath comes to a halt when your hand drifts beneath your thin gown, forcing yourself to listen as he brings himself to ruin in the halls as your finger presses to the spot that demands attention most of all. A fragile, shaking circle before your breath already begins to catch.

“Bitte…”

The brute sounds so helpless now, no longer the horrid thing that ordered you to “piss off” or scowled in your direction. He doesn’t know a thing about love… about how one should yearn for a maiden, only of spilling blood and seed. It’s only in the quiet of the night when the rest of the castle sleeps does he allow himself to be even this vulnerable… only his vulnerability seems even more terrifying.

His groans morph into pitiful sighs as he no doubt slows his motions, drawing out an impending orgasm in the hope that you will crawl to your door to let him in and fuck you rough on your bed.

“Just let me…”

Your thighs tremble as you weep between them in longing. The sooner it’s over the sooner you can close your eyes and drift back to sleep, no longer needing him the way he seems to need you now.

Your motions grow more heady, the patterns traced quicker and more deliberate as the heat rushes down further like the most vast wave of pure fire… When you tense, when your lips part to allow a low murmur of pleasure to slip from them, you’re met with laughter from the other side of the door.

“Ja… my lady… you do want it,” he hums as you draw your covers up and over your head in shame. You hadn’t been that loud, surely… but the way that he follows after, coming undone himself with a loud grunt as though it were some ridiculous competition…

“Let me fuck you next time,” he rasps, panting soft as he leans back. Depraved as he was, you were certain he was probably admiring the pearly paint he left along the stones. “That is my place, hm?”

#könig x reader #konig x reader

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punkshort · 9 months ago

Text

somewhere to run | 11. austin pt.2

Pairing: sheriff!Joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: You go back to Austin for another meeting with Madeline, but this time, you're alone, and you meet someone from Joel's past.

Chapter Warnings: language, some mild hints at smut but nothing explicit, angst, hurt/comfort, discussions/recollections of past DV/SA, insecurity issues, jealousy, panic attack

WC: 6.5K

Series Masterlist

Something was wrong.

You hadn't seen or heard from Joel since the diner, and that was three whole days ago. He didn't normally stop by on the weekends, but he had gotten in the habit of sending you a text here or there. Things like how was the rest of your shift? Or watched this movie tonight with Sarah, you would like it. And sure, sometimes it would be more along the lines of can't stop thinking about you, what are you wearing?

You had both stayed true to your word. The two of you hadn't had sex since the time in his truck a few weeks ago. But some of your texts have crossed the line a couple times. And yes, there might have been one small phone call that ended with your thighs clenched around your hand and him groaning quietly on the other end, but that didn't count. You weren't dating. You weren't together. And unless your phone was tapped, nobody would ever know.

Looking down at your phone, you frowned. The last message you sent him wasn't even delivered. And it was already past his usual time to stop in for lunch. Tomorrow was your meeting with Madeline. You were sure he would want to talk to you about it before you left.

It was very unlike him.

"Maria?" you called out when you happened to catch her walking by the counter.

"What's up?" she asked, carrying an armful of menus.

"No Joel today?" you tried to ask as casually as possible.

If she was suspicious, she didn't let on.

"Oh, yeah. He's out of town. We're watching Sarah til he gets back tomorrow evening," she said, looking over her shoulder when an older couple walked in looking for a table. "Sorry, gotta go," she said, then hurried towards the hostess stand to greet the customers.

Out of town? Why wouldn't he have told you?

Because you aren't dating, you idiot.

Still, it bothered you. You told him you wanted to take control of your life and do things for yourself. Did that upset him? Maybe he took it the wrong way. You had still hoped he would give you advice, some guidance on how the process works, what to expect next.

You were probably reading too much into it. Maybe there was a family emergency.

It wasn't until almost midnight when your phone pinged next to your bed. Groggily, you reached over and squinted at the screen, then opened your eyes wide when you saw his name.

Joel: Sorry, something came up out of town. I'll hopefully be back late tomorrow. Let me know how your meeting goes.

You stared at the screen, reading and rereading his text. Hopefully be back tomorrow? What was going on? Why was he responding so late?

Probably because he knew you would be asleep and wouldn't bother him with a reply.

You put your phone back on your charger without answering and pulled your comforter back up to your chin as you stared blankly at the ceiling.

You were spiraling and you knew it. You were letting your insecurities get the best of you again. There was no reason to think Joel was icing you out. He was probably just busy. You couldn't expect him to spend all his time worrying about you.

There was nothing you could do about it now, short of calling him and outright asking him what's going on, so you did your best to push it out of your mind. Closing your eyes, you tried to will yourself to sleep before hitting the road early the next morning.

It was very early when you got up, so you decided to still not answer his text from the night before. If he was up that late, he was probably still sleeping.

At first, you were glad for the distraction. Driving the two hours to Austin kept your hands away from your phone, although you would be lying if you didn't hope to have another message from Joel when you stopped to use the restroom, just to be sorely disappointed.

There was hardly any traffic so you arrived a little ahead of schedule. You parked in the same parking ramp you and Joel parked in last time and walked the few blocks to the law firm, grateful for a few minutes of fresh air to clear your head. When you entered the lobby, you were greeted by the same two receptionists as last time, and the same one as before waved you over with a smile. She didn't appear to recognize you when you told her your name, and as you watched her scroll on her computer, a nasty part of you wondered if she would remember Joel had he been there with you.

She probably would. Joel's effect on the women he encounters wasn't lost on you. He practically had the whole town wrapped around his finger back home. It hadn't bothered you much lately, but something about his sudden disappearance and lack of contact was just bringing out all your worst thoughts. You shook your head as you sat down, trying to make the thoughts scatter. Pulling out a small notebook and pen, you flipped open the cover and reviewed the contact information you had given Madeline's secretary, along with a couple questions you wanted to ask, but your eye kept wandering to your phone, as if you were trying to force it to light up with his name.

You heard Madeline's soft voice call for you and you lifted your head to greet her with a smile. Clutching your notebook and pen in one hand and purse in the other, you stood to follow her out of the lobby. You made sure to shoot the receptionist who helped you a friendly smile as you walked past, feeling guilty for having such catty thoughts about her when she didn't even do anything wrong.

"So, I reached out to the people on your list. All except your mother, like you requested," Madeline said, jumping right in when you sat down in her office. You liked that about her. She didn't waste any time.

"I sent them texts warning them you would be in touch and they all seemed happy to help," you told her, and she nodded.

"Very much so, but I really do feel like having your mother testify would help. Mothers are great at garnering sympathy from a jury."

You chewed nervously on your fingernail as you thought about it.

"Besides my cousin, she's the only one who I confided in the most," you began, dropping your hand to your lap. "But she never seemed to see it the same way I did. If Patrick hit me, she thought it was because I was talking back or pushing his buttons. She would defend him, telling me 'he works so hard, he deals with so much stress'. And I'm sure you saw what she would say about the sexual abuse," you said, motioning towards the papers on her desk.

Madeline sighed and looked down at a copy of your statement.

"Yes, I did see that. Can I ask you a difficult question?" You let out a dry laugh.

"Just one?" you asked, and she smiled.

"Did you father ever abuse her or you growing up?" she asked gently. You sat back in your chair, deep in thought.

"Well, definitely not me, but I don't know about her. If he did, it was behind closed doors."

"Was there anything that you maybe saw or heard to make you think that would be a possibility?" she pushed.

"I mean, my dad has a temper. He would shout a lot, fly off the handle over little things, but I don't remember him ever calling either one of us names or hitting my mom."

Madeline nodded as she jotted down a note on her legal pad.

"I'm just trying to find a reason why she would think the way Patrick treated you was acceptable," she explained.

"Oh, right," you said, racking your brain for anything that would give an insight into your mom's response. "I never thought to ask. I was so wrapped up in my own shit, it never occurred to me that she might have been going through something, too." That guilt that never seemed to go away began to stir deep in your belly once again.

"Well, I'll do whatever you're comfortable with," Madeline said, tapping her pen lightly on her legal pad. "If you'd like me to reach out, I will. If you prefer to talk to her first or leave her out of it entirely, I'll stand by your choice. But in my professional opinion, I think it's worth exploring, and if I don't think she would make a good witness once we talk, we can always let it go."

"She doesn't even know where I am," you said softly, more to yourself than anything. "We obviously don't have a very good relationship. When I left, I didn't tell anybody where I was going. I only told my cousin I was leaving so my family wouldn't think I died or was kidnapped or something."

Madeline nodded, listening closely. You loved that about her: you always felt like you were being heard whenever you spoke.

"Why don't you sleep on it and let me know what you decide," she said, and you agreed, watching her flip through her other notes. "As far as the divorce petition goes, Patrick didn't respond. No surprise there."

"What does that mean?" you asked, inching forward in your chair.

"He still is allowed some time to acknowledge it. Specifically, 30 days since he was served, so he has a few more days. If I still don't hear anything, we can file for a default divorce. If we do that, Patrick will give up his rights. Obviously beneficial for you, definitely not for him, so I anticipate a response at that point."

"Okay, that sounds good," you said, feeling a bit of relief. Regardless of how this will go, the end will be the same: you will be free.

There was a soft knock at the door behind you, causing Madeline to look up in surprise, then smiled and waved in the guest. Turning around in your seat, you saw a tall, beautiful woman with warm, brown skin and perfectly styled curly, dark hair enter the room. Madeline stood from her chair, and you followed as Madeline reached an arm out to the woman to introduce her.

"This is Michelle, she's one of the firm's partners."

Michelle shook your hand, her grip firm, and she gave you a dazzling smile.

"Oh, wow, it's so nice to meet you," you said. "I can't thank you enough for taking on my case. This is life changing for me, you have no idea."

"Don't mention it, we're happy to help," she replied, her smile still plastered across her face.

"I didn't realize you were in the office today?" Madeline asked, pulling Michelle's attention from you.

"I was supposed to be in court but the guy ended up pleading guilty last minute. Love when that happens," she said to you with a wink, and you smiled. She glanced around the office quickly before turning back to you and Madeline. "Just you today?"

You paused at first, not understanding what she was asking, and then Madeline stepped in.

"Joel's out of town at the moment," she said to Michelle, and you couldn't stop yourself from frowning. How would Madeline know that?

"Oh, that's a shame. I was hoping to run into him, I haven't seen him in a while. Thought we could catch up," Michelle said, another wide smile spreading across her face, revealing perfect, white teeth. Catch up?

Madeline smiled back but you thought you could see some tension behind her eyes. Or maybe your insecurities were getting the best of you, yet again.

"How do you know Joel?" you asked, and hoped you didn't come off as defensive as you felt.

Michelle gave a soft chuckle and leaned against Madeline's desk.

"So sorry, you're probably confused. I'm sure he didn't mention it because he didn't want you to feel indebted to him since we took your case pro bono under his suggestion," she said, and you blinked rapidly, trying to keep up. "We were together for a long time. Almost got married, actually, but then I got a promotion out here with a different law firm and he didn't want to move... I'm sorry, you probably don't want to hear about ancient history," she said with a laugh.

You tried your best to smile in return but you were fairly certain you couldn't move. You felt like the walls were closing in and you could barely hear what she was saying. Fortunately, Madeline swooped in and distracted Michelle while you tried to get your bearings. Slumping back down in your chair, you tried to remember how to breathe without looking like you ran a marathon. How could he not tell you about this?

Glancing back up at her, you examined her features as she spoke with Madeline. High cheekbones, curly hair, athletic build... the question slipped out before you even had a chance to think.

"You must be Sarah's mom."

The two women stopped talking immediately. Michelle looked down at you in your chair and finally you saw that perfect smile crack. Something told you bringing up Sarah was a sore subject, and that nasty, jealous part of you felt good.

Michelle forced a wider smile and tucked an imaginary stray hair behind her ear.

"Yes, actually. I didn't realize he told you about Sarah," she said, her eyes drifting back to Madeline, who just stared right back at her.

"You look so much alike," you told her, your throat tightening. "You must be so proud of her."

Another awkward silence filled the room.

Michelle looked like she was about to reply when her cell phone rang, and you could have sworn she looked relieved.

"I'm sorry, I have to take this. It was a pleasure to meet you," she said, and you actually managed a small smile. The two of you listened to Michelle's high heels click loudly against the wooden floor as she made her way out, answering the phone with an authoritative tone when she stepped back out into the hall.

You and Madeline looked at one another for a moment, each of you not knowing what to say.

"Does she know about me and Joel?" you blurted out. "I mean, you know... that we used to have a personal relationship?"

Madeline chuckled and took her glasses off.

"I didn't think she needed to know," she said, offering you a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry about that. I didn't know she would be here today," she added with a sigh.

"Did..." you swallowed but your throat felt like sand. "Was my case picked because of their relationship?"

"Oh, no. Not directly, anyway," she said, shaking her head.

"What do you mean?"

"The partners vote on which cases are picked pro bono, so they all have to agree. I can't say one way or another if she helped sway their decision, but I do know the partners in this firm care about helping people. They see cases like yours and they truly want to help. So regardless, just know they are good people who want to see you get the justice you deserve."

You leaned back in your chair, stunned. Would Joel have asked his ex to do you a favor? And then not even tell you? Is that why he's been icing you out? Maybe he was having second thoughts about your relationship. Maybe he changed his mind but can't figure out how to let you down gently.

Stop spiraling. He's not icing you out.

Oh, but it really felt like he was in that moment, and you could feel your insecurities winning the fight.

The last few minutes of your appointment was spent reviewing what you had discussed that day and a reminder to think about the topic of your mother, but all you wanted to do was get the hell out of that building as soon as possible. Once you finally got back to the safety of your little car in the dark parking garage, you finally let the tears fall.

The drive home was long and quiet. Your mind was still spinning with the information about Michelle, and as hard as you tried to put it out of your mind, it kept creeping back in against your will. She was pretty. She was so pretty and smart and fit. She reminded you a little bit of Nikki - beautiful, tall, confident. They seemed so different from you. What in the world did Joel see in you if Michelle and Nikki were the types of women he usually went after?

Your phone began to ring in your bag. Reaching over to the passenger's seat, you rifled through your purse blindly, eyes still on the road, fingers searching and finally finding your phone.

You had to do a double take when you saw it was Joel calling.

Staring at the road, you listened to your phone ring over and over, your finger hovering over the little green button on the touch screen, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it. It finally stopped ringing and with a sigh of relief, you dropped it into your cup holder.

You knew if you had answered the phone, you would have been irrational. You needed time to think, so you slid the bar down on the side of your phone to silence your calls.

Where the hell was he, anyway? Why wouldn't he have told you he was leaving? And why did Madeline know? If he had time to tell Madeline, he could have had time to tell you, too. You wanted to ask her, but in your hurry to get out after meeting Michelle, you forgot.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw your phone light up in the cupholder, and because you had no self control, you picked it up to take a quick peek.

Joel: How did everything go with Maddy?

You scoffed and tossed your phone back into your purse so you wouldn't be tempted to look again until you got home. To force your mind off it, you spent the rest of the drive thinking about Madeline's request to ask your mother to testify. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to call her. Maybe her views have changed. Perhaps she gained some clarity on your situation since you ran. You obviously wouldn't have done that unless things were really bad. Maybe she just didn't realize the severity of the situation.

You really wished you could run this by Joel, but that stubborn part of you absolutely refused.

By the time you arrived home, your muscles sore from sitting in the car for so long, you had decided you would give your mom a call. Just to test the waters. And depending on how it went, you would decide if you wanted to ask her to testify.

Joel sat in a rental car, staring out the window blankly while he fidgeted with his phone. Why weren't you answering your phone? Maybe you were driving and you couldn't hear it. He was fighting the urge to call Maddy to see if you had made it to Austin in one piece. The only thing holding him back was his concern that she would pick up on something in his voice when he spoke about you. He had told Maddy the two of you were over, and at the time, it was true. But now the lines were blurred and it was becoming difficult for him to hide his feelings. It must be written all over his face. Even you could see it, which terrified him at first, but then you climbed into his lap in his truck and his fear melted away, leaving only his exposed heart and his very real, very intense feelings for you on full display.

Those feelings were exactly why he found himself on the seedy side of downtown Philadelphia, staring at subsidized housing with sirens wailing in the distance. He pulled out the piece of paper from his pocket and checked the address again before tucking his gun into the back of his pants and sliding his shield into his pocket, then opening the car door and stepping out.

It was colder in Pennsylvania than he expected. It wasn't quite snowing, but the wind carried tiny flecks of white. Not enough to accumulate, but enough where he felt the cold deep in his bones. He walked up the path towards the housing unit, glancing around to confirm he was alone before looking back down at the paper in his hand.

Nina Hoffman.

He approached the first unit and scanned the numbers on the doors before moving on, then stopping when he found the correct number and knocking firmly on the door. He turned around, watching as two young men eyed him suspiciously as they walked by. Once they were out of sight, Joel knocked again, louder this time.

"C'mon," he muttered under his breath, then rubbed his hands together, trying to warm up as he waited. He was about to give up when he heard some shuffling on the other side of the door. He straightened up and stepped back, then gave his most charming smile to the small pair of eyes that peered out at him through the crack in the door.

"Afternoon," Joel said with a nod. "Would you happen to be Nina?"

The eyes raked up and down his body and stopped at the bulge on his back.

"Who's asking?" her raspy voice replied.

"Sorry, miss. My name's Joel. Joel Miller. You don't know me, but I think we have someone in common," he replied, her eyes still glued to the gun he had concealed under his coat.

"Who?"

Joel took a deep breath, bracing for her reaction.

"Sergeant Patrick-"

She went to slam the door in his face but he was faster. He stuck his foot in the door as she kept pushing back, trying to apply enough pressure to make him move, but he just wedged himself into the crack further.

"I ain't who you think I am," he said, but Nina ignored him.

"Get the fuck out of here! I dropped the charges!" she cried out, and Joel tried to shush her until he realized fights like this likely happened all the time in areas like this and wouldn't draw as much attention from neighbors.

"I wanna help you! There's more victims!" he told her through gritted teeth as she slammed the door against his leg over and over. At last, she stopped yelling and paused, and he took a deep breath. "I believe you," he continued. "And I think I can help you."

"Move your leg," she told him, and Joel dropped his head in defeat.

"Please, just hear me out-"

"I will. You gotta move your leg so I can undo the goddamn chain," she replied, sounding annoyed.

"Oh, right," Joel said, then pulled his leg out from the crack in the door. She shut it and he heard the metal chain slide through the lock before she twisted the knob again, opening the door wider and revealing herself for the first time. She looked to be around your age, blonde hair that looked like it needed to be washed, and blue eyes that were bloodshot.

"You just gonna stand there or you wanna come inside?" she said, turning on her heel and walking into the apartment, leaving the door wide open. He glanced around behind him once again, still reeling from her change in demeanor, before stepping inside and shutting the door.

You had been on the phone with your mom for nearly thirty minutes as you stared up blankly at your ceiling, listening to her drone on and on about your aunt and her newest boyfriend. Maybe you should have waited until you were more well rested to call her. The drive back from Austin was exhausting, but in an effort to avoid calling Joel, you called your mother instead. Once she got over the initial surprise, she launched into catching you up on all the drama you had missed, and you were beginning to wonder if she even gave a shit about your well-being. Not once had she asked why you left without a word or even how you were doing. She either didn't care or she already assumed the answers for herself. You weren't sure if it was the exhaustion or all the information that had been thrown at you that day, but for once you decided to stand up for yourself and fucking say something.

"Mom, I called to talk to you. It's important," you said, cutting her off, and she paused on the other end of the phone.

"I figured there was a reason you finally reached out," she replied. You picked up on the edge to her voice and you rolled your eyes. Great start.

"It's about Patrick," you began, not letting her tone sway you.

"What about him, sweetie? Is he doing okay?"

You had to take a deep breath and steady yourself before replying. Is Patrick doing okay?? What about you?

"Actually, no. He's in jail," you said, and she gasped. "For attacking me and another cop in town."

"Attacking? What do you mean?" she asked, and you scoffed.

"Attacking me like he's been doing for years, Mom," you said, sliding your eyes shut.

"Oh honey, you didn't actually call the police on him, did you? I told you, you need to watch what you say. You always have a way of pushing people's buttons, ever since you were little-"

"Mom! Stop!" you shouted, and she immediately went quiet. A dull beep echoed in your ear and you pulled your phone away to look at the screen. Joel was calling again. You clenched your jaw and rejected the call before putting the phone back up to your ear. "This is serious, okay? He raped me. He hits me and emotionally abuses me and I've had enough. I'm pressing charges and we're going to trial soon, and my lawyer wanted me to reach out to you and see if you would be willing to testify on my behalf."

The words rushed out of you faster than you expected, but once they were out in the open, you felt a wave of relief, but the dead silence on the other end of the call made you feel nervous again.

"He has his whole career in front of him. You're really doing this?" she said quietly, and if you didn't know any better, she sounded mad.

"What?" you asked incredulously.

"Everything with you is so dramatic," she said with a sigh. "I don't know what fairy tale you have in your head, but life is tough sometimes. Marriage is tough. It's hard work but you made a commitment to him. His job is very stressful. The last thing he wants is a wife at home who expects flowers and sunshine every time he opens the door."

Your mouth hung open in shock as you listened to her prattle on.

"He went down there to fight for you and this is how you repay him?" she continued as the tears began to burn the backs of your eyes.

"How did you-"

"He provides for you, doesn't he? You don't even have to work. All you need to do is be a homemaker and a mother. Do you know how many women would love to be in your shoes?"

"I never said I wanted any of that," you said, and you heard her scoff on the other end.

"Of course you don't. You've always had some silly fantasies in your head but this is real life. Relationships aren't like the movies. Men aren't looking to trip over themselves to make you happy. Marriage takes work. It's a give and take, and all you ever do is take."

You closed your eyes as the tears began to fall. She was wrong. You wanted to scream it at her, rub it in her face that someone was willing to trip over themselves for you.

"So I take it you won't be testifying on my behalf," you said after a moment of silence.

"You got yourself into this mess, you can get yourself out of it."

Then the line went dead.

You dropped the phone next to you onto the couch and sobbed into the palms of your hands. What did you need to say to make your mother understand? Was there even a point in trying anymore? Maybe Madeline was right. Something must have happened to your mother to make her think this way, because you knew now that love wasn't meant to cause pain.

A month ago, you probably would have believed her. But now, after seeing what Joel was willing to do for you, you knew better.

Suddenly, you felt foolish for reacting the way you did about Michelle. Regret clawed at your ribs as you thought about all the ignored calls and texts from him. Sitting up on the couch, you wiped your nose with the back of your hand and picked up your phone. With shaky fingers, you tapped on his contact and dialed his number, chewing on your bottom lip as the phone rang and rang until you got his voicemail. You hung up without leaving a message, the guilt tearing you in two.

Joel did so much for you and you repaid him by throwing a tantrum because of an old relationship.

As you turned on your TV, flipping through the channels to try to find some mindless show to distract you, hoping Joel would give you another chance and call you back, you thought about your conversation with your mother.

Maybe she was right. Maybe you were too dramatic. Selfish girl.

You just hoped you could still fix it and didn't ruin the only good thing you had going for you.

Loud pounding on your front door jolted you awake with your heart slamming in your chest. Fear and confusion ripped through you as you sat up and blinked quickly, looking around. You fell asleep on your couch, your TV playing infomercials now as the clock on the wall ticked closer to three in the morning.

The pounding on the door picked up again and you scrambled to your feet. Your first thought was Patrick, but logic slowly seeped into your brain when you remembered he was in a jail cell in Austin.

Gripping your phone tightly in your hand, you cautiously made your way down the stairs, ears straining to listen for any type of hint as to who was on the other side of the door.

You opened the door a crack and breathed a sigh of relief when you saw Joel waiting.

"Jesus Christ," he breathed out as he rubbed his chest absentmindedly. You opened the door all the way and sleepily waved him inside. "What the hell? Why aren't you answerin' any of my calls?" he asked, and for the first time you began to pick up on the worry in his voice.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled, looking down at your phone, now noticing he had called and texted you several times since you had fallen asleep. "I tried calling you earlier-"

"I was gettin' on a plane," he said, shutting the door behind him before scooping you into his arms for a hug. "You fuckin' scared me," he whispered into your hair, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

"I'm sorry," you said again, your voice breaking this time. He pulled back and cupped your face, searching your eyes and realizing you were on the verge of tears.

"What happened? Why have you been cryin'?" he asked you softly, his thumbs brushing gently underneath your swollen eyes. You dropped your gaze and shook your head with shame. "C'mon, let's go upstairs, we gotta talk 'bout what's been goin' on."

He tugged on your hand and led you up the steps, tears still burning in your eyes as you tried to hold them back, your eyes scratchy and dry from already crying too much earlier that evening.

"It's so late," you began, but you could see his body was practically vibrating with energy. "Did your plane just get in?"

"Yeah," he said, shrugging off his coat as he began to pace your living room. You sunk back down into your couch, pulling your knees up to your chest as you watched him dart back and forth.

"Where were you, Joel?" you finally asked softly, and he paused in the middle of your living room. "Why didn't you tell me you were leaving town? I was so worried-"

"There wasn't enough time. I had to figure out arrangements for Sarah and reschedule that meeting with her teacher at school... it was all too fast," he rambled, not catching your eye as he spoke.

"You couldn't at least send a text when you were at the airport or something?" you asked, not allowing him to make up excuses. "I had to find out from Maria you were gone. Even Madeline knew-"

"Madeline?" he repeated, finally dragging his eyes up to meet yours. "What'd she say?"

You huffed and crossed your arms, trying to fight the spiteful response that was clawing its way to your lips.

"She didn't tell me anything," you said, watching his face carefully. His gaze drifted away, lost in thought before you added "I just happened to be there when Michelle asked where you were."

Joel's eyes snapped back up to yours in an instant and he felt his stomach twist. You could see the myriad of emotions flitting across his face as he processed what you just said.

"What?" he whispered, his throat tight, his heart pounding loudly in his ears.

"Michelle," you repeated calmly. "Sarah's mom."

His eyes squeezed shut and he rubbed them aggressively with the heels of his palms. He could feel the heat rising from his chest and up his neck, and he tried to take deep breaths to quell the panic, but it was no use.

"Why-" he began to ask but he was finding it difficult to speak. He bent forward at the waist, his hands on his knees as he shook his head from side to side, trying to shake the sudden dizzy spell. He had been up for too long. He didn't eat enough. The altitude from the plane... something was making him feel faint.

"Joel?" you asked, standing up when you noticed something was wrong. You reached your hands out to grip his shoulders, trying to steady him as he struggled to drag in air. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he rasped, but he weakly slumped to the floor in your living room. "Just... dizzy."

"Should I call an ambulance?" you asked, your voice higher than usual. You fumbled with your phone but he managed to reach out and grab your arm.

"No, just... water," he told you, and you jumped up, racing to the kitchen for a bottle of water. You shakily unscrewed the cap and joined him on the floor, bringing the bottle to his lips and letting him take slow sips until his vision cleared and his breathing returned to normal.

You nervously watched him, your phone still ready to call for paramedics if he passed out, but the color slowly began to return to his face the more water he managed to drink. You inched forward, your hands hovering over him, not sure what to do.

"What was that?" you whispered, and he took a deep breath and shook his head.

"I don't know."

You nodded, your lips forming a tight line as you kept a close eye on him. Minutes ticked by as you waited for him to do something or say something, too worried to say anything yourself and risk causing another episode. Scooting closer to him on the floor, you rubbed his back, and his eyes fluttered closed as he leaned into your touch.

"Why was Michelle there?" he finally asked, eyes still shut.

"She came into my meeting with Madeline. She wanted to meet me and she asked about you," you told him, dropping the attitude now.

"But why was she... there? She doesn't work there, she works at a firm on the other side of the city," he said, finally opening his eyes and then it dawned on you: of course he didn't keep her a secret from you. He didn't even know himself.

"She's a partner there," you said, swallowing nervously as the guilt gnawed away at your insides. "She said you didn't tell me so I wouldn't feel indebted to you since they took my case pro bono."

"What?" he asked angrily as he furrowed his brow. "That's not true. I had no fuckin' clue, you gotta believe me-"

"I believe you," you told him, your hand sliding to the back of his neck. His gaze drifted to a blank spot on the wall as he struggled to catch up with the new information you just dumped on him.

"No wonder you were ignorin' me," he mumbled, and you felt your face heat up, embarrassed for acting like such a child and not just asking him about it in the first place.

"I'm so sorry, Joel," you said, tears welling up in your eyes again. "I really did try to call you earlier. I should have heard you out before getting all jealous and nasty."

"Don't be jealous," he said, locking eyes with you again. "Nothin' to be jealous 'bout. That ship with her sailed years ago." He brought his hand up to gently pinch your chin and gave you a small smile. "Haven't even spoken to her in years. I got no idea why she'd even want to see me."

Leaning forward, you gently slotted your lips over his, breathing in deep and inhaling his familiar scent. The same scent you chased after it faded from your sheets.

"You gotta talk to me, baby," he reminded you quietly after he pulled away and pressed his forehead against yours.

"I know, I'm sorry," you told him, a single tear trickling down your cheek. "Today was so awful and I just missed you so much."

"C'mere," he murmured, pulling you into his lap, your face burying itself into his neck.

"Where were you?" you asked him again, realizing for the first time he never answered you, and he took a deep breath.

"Philadelphia."

Your eyes went wide and you flung yourself upright in his lap.

"What? Why?"

He caressed your chin and gave you a sad look, his eyes red and tired as his shoulders weakly slumped forward.

"There's other victims."

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rootedinrevisions · 2 months ago

Text

Kinktober 2024: Day 7 (late)

SUMMARY: Jake had always been confident, the calm in any storm, but lately, the weight of an upcoming mission had cast a shadow over him. No matter what you tried, his mind remained distant, locked on the challenges ahead. Desperate to help him unwind, you took a bold step, sinking to your knees before him, offering a moment of release from the pressures weighing him down. As his eyes finally met yours, dark with both surprise and need, you knew you had his full attention. In that moment, the tension between you shattered, and what followed was a much-needed escape for both of you.

PROMPT: "You look so pretty on your knees."

KINK: Face Fucking

WARNINGS: 18+ SMUT. (Male Receiving Oral)

WORD COUNT: 768

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am aware that I am getting this posted very late. I am so sorry for that! There was a family emergency I was taking care of most of today which didn't leave me any time to write or get anything posted. Hopefully, it's worth the wait!

TAG LIST: @omgbrianab I @shanimallina87 I @fanficmom94 I @smoothdogsgirl I @djs8891 @saucy-sassy-sparkly I @alipap3 I @dudinhastuff I @lunatygerqueen I @hookslove1592 I @glenpowellluver

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! (I currently have one for Glen Powell & His Characters, One for Bradley/Rooster now, and then a third for WWE/Wrestling. I also can create one for Bucky & other MCU characters if there's interest for more of those characters!)

Jake had been distant for days, his usual lighthearted demeanor weighed down by the upcoming mission. You’d seen him stressed before, but this felt different. He was quieter, less playful, and constantly lost in thought. You hated seeing him like this—so consumed by his duty that it seemed to block out everything else.

Tonight, you were determined to change that, even if just for a few minutes. He was sitting on the edge of your shared bed, elbows resting on his knees, staring blankly at the floor. You came up behind him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and pressed a kiss to the side of his neck.

“Jake,” you whispered softly, your lips brushing against his skin.

He hummed, acknowledging you but not fully engaged.

You tried again, this time letting your hands wander down his chest, feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch. “You need to take a break. You’ve been thinking about that mission all day.”

“I can’t,” he muttered, his voice tight, as if his thoughts were an anchor pulling him down. “There’s too much riding on this one.”

You understood. His job demanded perfection, and the stakes were always high. But you also knew he needed to get out of his own head for a bit—to relax, even if just for a moment.

You kissed him again, this time more insistently, running your fingers through his hair as you tried to coax him out of his trance.

But it wasn’t enough. His mind was miles away, focused on the mission that was still days off. You pulled back slightly, frustration and concern warring within you. You couldn’t stand to see him like this, so you decided to take a different approach.

Slowly, you sank to your knees in front of him, your hands moving to his belt. His eyes flicked to yours, momentarily surprised by your shift in position.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice low, his brows furrowing in curiosity.

“Helping you relax,” you said simply, your voice soft but determined as you undid his belt and tugged it free.

You could feel his hesitation as he watched you work the button and zipper on his pants, but he didn’t stop you. Instead, he let out a shaky breath, his body already responding to the promise of your touch.

As you pulled his pants down just enough to free him, you glanced up, and his gaze was locked on you, desire flickering in his eyes.

“You look so pretty on your knees,” he murmured, the compliment causing a rush of heat to flood your cheeks.

You wrapped your hand around him, feeling his length pulse in your palm. Then you leaned in and took him into your mouth, Jake’s hand immediately finding your hair, his fingers threading through the strands as he exhaled a deep, shaky breath. His hips twitched slightly, and you could feel the tension in his body begin to ease.

It didn’t take long before his hand tightened its grip in your hair, holding you in place as his hips began to move on their own. His breath came in short, shallow gasps, the stress of the past few days melting away with each thrust. You could feel the weight of his worries lifting, even if only temporarily, as he lost himself in the sensation of your mouth.

“God,” he groaned, his voice rough, his body finally giving in to the release he so desperately needed. You could sense the shift in him, the way his focus turned completely to you, to the pleasure you were giving him, and it sent a rush of satisfaction through you.

Finally, his movements stilled, and he released a low, guttural groan as he came, his body shuddering as the tension drained from him. He stayed there for a moment, his hand still gently tangled in your hair, his breath uneven as he came down from the high.

When he finally opened his eyes and looked down at you, there was something softer in his expression—a quiet gratitude, perhaps, or a deep sense of relief. He gently pulled you back up to him, his lips pressing against yours in a slow, appreciative kiss.

“Thank you,” he murmured against your lips, his voice warm and genuine. He pulled you into his lap, cradling you close as if he didn’t want to let go. “I didn’t realize how much I needed that.”

You smiled softly, resting your head against his chest. “You need to take care of yourself too, Jake. Not just the mission.”

He sighed, his arms tightening around you. “I know,” he said, kissing the top of your head. “And now it’s time to take care of you.”

#Top Gun Hangman #Top Gun Hangman Fanfiction #Top Gun Hangman Fanfic #Jake Seresin #Jake Seresin Fanfiction #Jake Seresin Fanfic #Jake Hangman Seresin #Jake Seresin x reader #Hangman x reader #Jake Seresin Smut #Hangman Jake Seresin Smut

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fredswrite · 2 months ago

Text

SUMMARY: Stephen forgot about your anniversary, but he didn’t forgot how good you felt.

A/N: Ive been so obsessed over Stephen recently, I’m so sorry this is very long 😓

WC: 4.5k

WARNING: piv, shower sex, pet names, Stephen is so needy and desperate, handjob, f!reader, smut MDNI!! YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSOMMATION

MLIST

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY

Stephen was a clever man, constantly innovating and thinking about ideas for the magazine. His ability to think on his feet was truly remarkable and a valuable asset for a journalist.

Whenever Stephen had writer's block, he transformed into a different person. He secluded himself in the office, emerging only to eat and drink or use the restroom. It felt as though he wasn't even in the apartment with you.

As Stephen's girlfriend, you took it upon yourself to help him as often as you could. However, he has kept himself locked up in his office for almost two whole days and didn't even realize he missed your three-year anniversary.

It was time to bring him out again. You couldn't just tell him what he missed, but to know he ignored the date was also heartbreaking.

You knocked firmly on the door before striding in. Balancing a plate with a peanut butter sandwich and some orange quarter, you were determined to get him to eat and talk to you. It wasn't a full meal, but hopefully he was going to eat it and have a talk with you.

"Steve, I have a snack for you," you said softly, trying to break Stephen's focus on the computer screen. He let out a small sigh, adjusting his glasses before finally turning to recognize you.

"Darling, I'm busy right now. Please just place the plate next to me and leave me. I'm alright, just lost in my thoughts," he responded with a hint of exasperation in his tone. He quickly returned his attention to the computer screen and resumed his reading.

"You’ve been in here for two days." You whispered, worried for him.

“I’m well aware of how long I’ve been in here,” Stephen replied with sarcastic irritation, still gazing at his computer screen. He was searching through different articles and stories for the upcoming pitch. He was never angry usually, mostly insecure. Constantly trying to make everyone love him.

“I have to find something before it’s too late. Stop worrying and go do something else.” Stephen had a habit of ignoring you during these writer’s block moments, which led to many arguments over the years.

"Right, sorry." You muttered as you retraced your steps, letting the door slam shut with more force than expected. All you wanted was to offer your help, but he seemed to throw out your efforts.

As soon as you shut the door, you could hear Stephen sigh in annoyance, pinching the space between his eyebrows with two fingers. He hated when you got all silent and quiet whenever he was like this, but he knew his work was more important in moments like these.

A few hours passed, and the only sound coming from the office was that of the keyboard typing and the mouse clicking. Soon, Stephen started to grumble out of frustration. He leaned back in his chair, pushing up his glasses before looking at the closed door. He was wondering what you had been doing.

It was midnight, and he remained secluded, failing to acknowledge the significance of your special date. You have shared three years of love, yet for the second time in three years, he has forgotten. You were eating the cake you bought, sitting alone in the kitchen. You had taken a slice, but your appetite was long gone.

Sweet and silent tears rolled down your cheeks to your plate. You tried to wipe them away with the sleeves of your hoodie, but you finished by letting them roll down. He didn't even remember, nor have he did anything about it.

Stephen had lost all track of time, only thinking of the pitch that was coming up. His girlfriend was the last thing on his mind at the moment, even if it was your three year anniversary.

He sat in his office for a couple more minutes before slowly sitting up. His back was hurting from being in that position for so long, and he was beginning to feel hungry and dehydrated. He had eaten the sandwich, yet that was a long time ago.

He slowly stood up from his desk, heading to the kitchen. The lights in the apartment were dimmed, but he could still see you sitting by yourself with an empty plate.

He walked into the kitchen, leaning up against the wall as he looked at you. He took in your tired and solemn expression, wondering why you were crying. He knew he was cold during writer's block, but to make you cry? He must have made you mad.

He crossed his arms and tilted his head, looking at you curiously before he spoke. “Why are you crying?” he asked bluntly, not realizing what day it was at all.

"Why am I crying?" you scoffed, rising from your chair. "Why am I crying?!" you repeated, the anguish evident in your voice. You walked away and locked yourself in the bathroom. It was your time to be left alone.

He rolled his eyes as you walked away from him and entered the bathroom. Stephen knew you well enough to know that you were upset about something, but he had no idea what. He stood by the bathroom door, listening to you.

“Come on. Open the door. I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.” He said, trying to keep himself from getting irritated again.

"Look at the fucking date."

Stephen raised an eyebrow as you yelled from the bathroom. He was confused until your words registered in his mind, and he went silent for a moment. You never cursed around him, he was nervous, to say the least.

He let out a breath and looked at the calendar. It finally dawned on him. It was your anniversary today. He groaned and rested his forehead against the door in slight annoyance, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Open the door, princess. Please?” Stephen asked you, a bit of a pleading tone in his voice. He felt guilty for being so dismissive of you, letting work and writer’s block get in the way of your anniversary. He knew forgot about it last year too, and it made him feel even worse.

"Leave me alone Steve, you locked yourself all day.".

He sighed from behind the door, banging his head against it in annoyance. He hated it when you got mad around him, but he knew it was his fault.

“You know I’m going through writer’s block. I need to find something new for this critique. It’s my job.” He retorted, trying to make you understand his trouble.

"It’s always the same excuse, you told me you forgot because of your writer's block. It’s always the same, I know your job’s important but I am too!"

He frowned as you retorted and called him out on his previous behaviour. It was true, but he didn’t want to admit to it. He didn’t want to admit that he had prioritized work over you on meaningful days.

“You know how important my job is to me, darling. I can’t control when I get writer’s block. That’s just how it is.” He said, a bit of a snappy tone in his tone.

"I know that! But you don’t have to be so damn cold when you have it." You let out, sitting at edge of the bathtub.

He sighed in despair, leaning his forehead against the door. His back was starting to hurt from hunching over his desk all day.

“I’m not purposely being cold to you. I’m just trying to find an idea. You know how I am when I get like this, I get super focused on writing.”

Stephen gently knocked on the door. “Please, just come out. I know you’re mad at me, I just want to talk to you face to face.”

He took you a lot to stand up and carefully undo the lock restraining the door, soon enough you were back in your sitting position. You could never stay mad at him for so long, that’s just how it was.

He quietly opened the door and took in your expression, feeling even more guilty for making you so upset. He could never handle it when you were like this. He slowly walked over and sat down next to you on the bathtub. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, holding you gently but making sure you couldn’t pull away.

“Are you mad at me?” Stephen asked in a quiet voice, stating the obvious.

"Of course I am!" You held his gaze for a moment as he acknowledged your eyes gleaming with tears.

He sighed calmly and looked at you with a tired expression. He knew he had messed up, prioritizing work over you. But he was going through writer’s block and needed something for the pitch.

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I upset you. But I have to find something to write about. It’s my job, baby. You know that.” He said, trying to use that as an explanation once again, in hopes that you’d understand. He gripped your hand, pressing gentle kisses alongside your knuckles.

He squeezed your wrist gently, silently begging for you to understand. He hated seeing you upset, especially since it was almost always his fault. And he hated being reminded he was was im the wrong.

Stephen took a small breath and continued, his tone softer. “I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to forget our anniversary, I just..” he paused, trying to find the right words, “got so caught up with everything.”

He gently pulled you closer as he let go of your hand, resting his forehead against yours. Stephen softly stroked your arm, his mind racing with different ways to apologize to you. “I didn’t mean to push you away. I just get so hyper-focused when I’m trying to find a new idea. I know I’m terrible at dealing with it, but please baby, don't be mad..”

You couldn't find the words to answer and you just gently nodded, whipping your tears away. The slight touch of mascara you applied this morning ran alongside your tears.

He could see the dejection and disappointment on your face and it hurt him. He hated that he had made you feel like this. Stephen shifted positions, turning to face you properly before he spoke.

“You’re upset about more than just me forgetting our anniversary, aren’t you?” He asked softly, still rubbing your arm comfortingly.

He knew you well enough to tell that you had more to say, even if you weren’t saying it aloud. He knew your body language, and how everything worked. He could tell when you were holding back from saying something, and you were holding something back.

He gently squeezed your arm, a silent prompt to speak up and tell him what was on your mind. After a moment of silence, he spoke up again, his voice gentle.

“Come on, sweetheart. Tell me what’s wrong. Please?”

"You always seem to love your work more than me." You knew it wasn't entirely accurate, but it wasn't entirely false either. He frowned as you spoke, biting the inside of his cheek in irritation. He didn’t appreciate that you kept bringing up him ignoring you for his job.

“That’s not true, and you know it.” He let out, slightly troubled.

"But it sure seem like it." You added.

His irritation subsided after a moment and he sighed. He knew you weren’t technically wrong and that made him feel more guilty.

“I.. I understand that, and you’re kinda right.. But you gotta know, my work is all I ever had. I can’t risk loosing my job because I didn’t write in time."

"I know, but you won’t lose your job for that."

He ignored your last statement, since apparently that‘s what he was good at recently.He let go of your arm and gently cupped your face, lifting your head gently so that he could meet your gaze.

“Sometimes I do get hyper-focused on my work and forget about other things, like our anniversary. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I do.” He said, holding your face in his hands, the urge to kiss you.

"I love you too, that’s the problem." You tried to look down, but his grip remained still on your chin.

Stephen moved closer to you, grabbing your hips and tugging you onto his lap. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to him. He nuzzled his face into your shoulder, taking in the warmth of your body.

“I know I messed up and I need to make up for forgetting our anniversary. So, I have a proposition for you, my love.” He murmured into your shoulder, holding you tight against him.

"What proposition?" You asked, intrigued.

He hummed against your shoulder before replying. “I’ll promise to set aside my work, all my research and computer work, for the rest of the night. In return, I just want you to help me relax. No more tears, I hate seeing you cry.”

"What do you mean?" You questionnée, even though you knew damn well what he meant.

He leaned back a bit and met your gaze. He smiled gently before replying, one hand moving to your waist.

“I just want you to be with me for the rest of the night. Cuddle with me, make me feel good and loved. I need to feel like I have some sort of. I don’t know, intimacy, again. I need you to help me with that.”

"Tomorrow is Saturday, ditch work tomorrow spend the day with me." You asked taking his hand, hoping you could convince him. After two days of ignoring you, even he missed being near his loved one.

He smiled again as you took his hand in yours, squeezing gently. Stephen nodded in agreement, bringing your hand to his lips and gently kissing your pulse point.

“I promise I’ll spend tomorrow hanging out with you, baby.” He said, holding your hand against his chest.

"You should take a shower before bed." You giggled, finally finding something positive in all that pain.

He gave a small laugh and nodded. Stephen could tell you had slightly calmed down. He liked that he was able to make you not so upset. "I don’t stink!" He let out and sniffed his armpit before making a disgusted expression.

"Yeah, alright. I will.” He said with a small grin as he moved his hands down to your hips. His hands stayed on your hips and he let his thumbs rub small, gentle circles on your skin.

“Come with me into the shower, please? You can wash my hair.” He said, his voice suddenly becoming a bit more needy. He knew how much you loved his hair and playing with his curls and the invitation was too good to refuse.

"I’ll use my strawberry shampoo." You said, slowly unbuttoning his blue shirt. He smiled, tilting his head to nuzzle your neck gently.

“My favorite.” He mumbled against your skin, placing a gentle kiss on the side of your throat.

"Start the shower," you started as you sat up from his lap, "I’ll come in soon." You left the bathroom leaving him hard on the spot. He watched your back as you closed the door behind you, he had no idea where you were going, but he continued taking down his clothes. He placed his glasses on the side of the sink, where he always placed them.

He watched you leave the bathroom and bit the inside of his cheek, feeling a bit excited by your words and the feeling of seeing you walk away. Stephen started the shower and waited, knowing you were up to something. He was hoping it was a pleasant surprise; he was craving your touch now.

He stood in the warm water flowing from the shower head, his mind racing. He wanted you to come in and help him and touch him. He wanted to feel your hands on his dick, running over his stomach. He wanted to feel you under the warm, streaming water. His forehead met with the glass door, as his hand waited for you on his thigh.

He huffed and bit back a small moan, feeling impatient and wanting you to join him. He closed his eyes and placed his left hand against the shower wall, bracing himself. He felt a bit antsy, wondering what was taking so long for you to arrive.

He wanted you to come get in the shower with him and touch him, so he called out from inside the shower. “How long are you going to make me wait, babe?”

Little did he know you were waiting on the other side of the door, oblivious teasing him for the two days he ignored you. "Oh who knows? Maybe two days, just like you did?"

He opened his eyes and groaned, knowing you were getting revenge against him for neglecting you for the past two days. He leaned his forehead against the shower door, sighing.

“That’s not fair, baby..” he whined from behind the door, wanting you to come into the shower.

"Was is fair that you forgot our anniversary?"

He grunted again and hung his head. He knew you had a point. It wasn’t fair that he forgot your anniversary.

“No, it wasn’t fair. I know it wasn’t fair and I don’t deserve it, but please.. I really need you in here with me.” He said, knowing he was begging.

“Please, I need you.. I’ll do anything you want, just come in the shower with me.” He pleaded, hoping you would join.

"God, you’re desperate," you said as you swung open the door, seeing his figure pressed against the glass.

His eyes shot open as the glass door suddenly opened. He was faced with your body, standing in the entrance of the shower room. Stephen let out a shaky breath, wanting you so badly. He held out a hand to you, looking at you with pleading eyes.

“Please. Need you, now.”

You clothes were soon on the ground next to his as he watched with an intense gaze. He watched you undress, his mind going blank as he observed your body. He felt his breath catch in his throat, the sight exciting him. He reached out to you, grabbing your wrist and yanking you into the shower with him.

Feeling you in the shower with him, he quickly turned you around before pinning you against the shower wall. He caged you in, his hands on the wall on either side of your head.

Stephen loomed over you, leaning down to capture your lips in a needy kiss. You right hand found its way to his curls, holding them firmly. Your other one flew down to his stomach and lower.

He immediately let out a whine at the feeling of your hands on his stomach. His body was craving your touch, and the feeling of your hand slowly moving down his body felt incredible.

He broke the kiss, his breathing heavy and he was becoming more desperate. He pressed his body against yours, wanting to feel as much skin on skin contact as possible.

Your hand was quick to reach his dick, stocking it from the tip. He gasped and his eyes shut closed tightly. He leaned forwards, letting his head fall into the crook of your neck and he let out a soft moan.

Stephen couldn’t help it. Just the simple touch of your hand made him so worked up. It was overwhelming him, in the best way possible.

He took a shaky breath and spoke against your neck. “Please..”

Stephen’s voice was soft and needy in your ear. He slowly began to press kisses into your neck, his lips gently brushing over your wet skin. His voice was desperate as he spoke.

“Need more, please. please.”

"Like that?" You asked teasingly as your hand moved in a faster motion around his length. He whimpered and nodded, his body pressing further against yours. His hand clutched onto the shower wall, trying to keep his knees from giving out. The feeling of your hand on him was overwhelming and he wanted so much more.

“Yes, please don’t stop."

His voice was almost a whine at this point and he couldn’t handle the sensations. It was almost too much, but it didn’t take much to push him completely over the edge. The sensation in his lower stomach rose. Under all his mess, you could feel yourself heated up as your pussy clenched over nothing.

Stephen pulled his head back so he could look at you, his eyes were dark and pleading. Soft tears were forming in the bridge of his eyes, hidden by the water of the shower.

“Baby… more, please. I’m begging..”

He couldn’t form proper sentences and that’s when you knew you had to let go. Your hand stopped their motion as you watched him get the orgasm he craved so badly denied.

He whined at the sudden loss of stimulation, his grip on the shower wall tightening as his legs trembled. He whimpered and looked at you with pleading eyes, frustrated, wanting you to continue. His grip changed to hold your waist with both his hands. He was so close, but you just had to tease him.

He was so frustrated and worked up that he couldn’t think straight. It took a moment for him to get coherent sentences out as his chest rose up and down.

“Why’d you stop? I was so close. I was almost there, you know I was..”

You cupped his cheeks with your fingers, gently passing over his lips easily folding his mouth open. "Don’t you rather cum in me than on my hand, sweet boy?"

The words went straight to his brain sending him in heaven, the thought making him moan and shudder.

“I... I do, yes I do..” He mumbled, his knees still feeling weak from the stimulation and the lack of it.

“Please, can I..?” He asked, grabbing your hip and tugging you closer to him.

He let out a shaky breath as you spoke into his ear, his entire body being sent into overdrive. Your words and gentle kisses on his jaw drove him crazy.

"Make it up for our anniversary." You whispered in his ear giving his jawline a few kisses.

At your words, he grabbed your hips and positioned himself between your legs. He wanted to do anything and everything to make up forgetting your anniversary.

Stephen leaned down and pressed his forehead on your shoulder, trying to compose himself enough to speak. He slowly pushed himself into you, letting out a low moan as he did. You could practically feel his tension in the air, he needed you so badly.

He held onto your hips and leaned against you, unable to form words in his blissed out state. The feeling of you around him was intense and overwhelming, and his mind was hazy.

He began to slowly move his dick in you. His body was taking over his brain, his focus entirely on you and the sensations. He was trying to move at a slow pace, but he was so worked up it was hard to keep a rhythm going.

He groaned against you, his breaths coming out in soft pants. He couldn’t never get bored of you clenching around him and he didn’t know how he was going to hold it together any longer.

“Please... I can’t… too good...” he whined in between breaths.

"You’re doing so well Steve." You moved with him, your hips meeting his pace, even faster. Your hands were still in his curls as you pulled his face to yours, kissing him in an angry kiss.

The praise and feeling of your kiss had him moaning against your lips as he tried to maintain any semblance of speed in his movement. Each time he moved was bringing him closer and closer to the edge, orgasm building within him again. He felt like he was going to explode.

As he kissed you back, he moved his hand to the back of your hips and held you against him. He groaned as he spoke, his voice shaky and breathless.

“I’m so close...” He mumbled against your lips, his breaths coming out in short stutters. You could sence it by the way his cock twitched on your walls.

He knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, the feeling was too intense and he was already so worked up before. His body was begging him to let go.

"Just keep it in for me alright? Don’t let go before I tell you." You asked, wanting to tease him to the end and to get your release as well.

He bit his lip in an effort to hold back a whine at your words and the fact that you were still teasing him. He knew you had a plan to get your orgasm, and he was desperate for his own, but he wanted to please you as much as possible. After all it was his fault if you were mad.

“I’ll try.. I’ll try to hold it for you… please"

He was on the edge of being overwhelmed, the need to release and let go nearly drowning him. Feeling you around him and listening to you speak, the knot was very close to cracking.

He needed you to give him some sort of permission, something to let him know he was allowed to finally let go. You felt yourself getting closer as well, but his pace getting sloppier didn’t help so you trusted harder again.

"Not till I tell you." You repeated.

He let out another whine at your words, feeling himself becoming unraveled. Trying to hold back from letting himself go and give him what he wanted so badly was torture.

“I need to.. I’m not… I’m not going to be able to… please…" He managed to get out, his words a jumbled mess. You were right on edge by seeing the state he was getting in, the show he was putting for you. He may have missed your special date, that was a good gift.

"Go on."

As soon as the words were out of your mouth, he lost all control. He came with a guttural moan, his body shaking and he clung onto you, his breaths coming out in short gasps.

Stephen couldn’t think or do anything except hold onto you and try to get his bearings. He pressed his forehead against your shoulder, still trembling from his orgasm.

His arms wrapped around your waist in a tight grip, holding you against him. He was panting and trying to get his breathing back to normal which would probably take a while. It took several moments for him to speak, his mind still swimming.

“That.. that was… holy…”

You let go of his grip, leaving the shower to grab a towel and wrap yourself in it. Before leaving him all alone again, you whispered just loud enough so he would hear it.

"Happy anniversary."

#stephen glass smut #fred’s one shot #stephen glass #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker #hayden christensen smut #hayden christensen #sam monroe smut #fredswrite #anakin smut

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leilakisakabiri · 1 year ago

Note

Can I request something with Gavi being barely even home resulting to reader feeling lonely and empty? A fluffy ending please! Gracias a todos!

You're Losing Me (Gavi)

Summary: You and Gavi's relationship is slowly falling apart - and neither of you know how to save it.

Warnings: Angst. Toxic behavior.

A/N: This request literally revived me so thank you. I’m so excited to write angst hopefully you like it! Also thank you guys for 1k notes on Surprise, here’s my gift to you. Please send requests!

Word count: 6.8k+

Masterlist

It was the fourth Tuesday in a row that you ate alone in your apartment. The fourth time Gavi had skipped out on your plans last minute, sending a quick half-hearted text about one event or the other.

The first time it was because Coach had asked Gavi to stay after practice, keen on teaching him the perfect one-touch shot. Then it was a missed dinner because Jordi Alba had invited him out with some other players, and he just couldn’t say no, because he was finally starting to feel like a part of the family - like the older players had finally started to respect him.

Of course you hadn’t minded the first few times, he had been apologetic enough, promising you that he would be there next time, but each next time took on the next week, and soon the prospect of next time didn’t hold as much meaning anymore. You were accustomed to reading those words by now, and you rarely took time to read over the dwindling text messages anymore, eyes only scanning for those two words, the ones that had become a staple in your relationship.

Next time.

Next time you would cook dinner for him and he would be there to eat it. Next time he would tell you he loved you in person, rather than getting an impassive ‘sorry cariño’. The thought of next time, which once seemed like a lifeline to you, had become a dull reminder of the boy who was just on the other side of the city, only a measly train ride separating you both. Yet the distance seemed much greater.

But now the football season was drawing to a close, and instead of being excited at the notion of having more time to spend together, you felt uneasy and on edge, almost as if you were waiting for the other shoe to drop, something to come up, making the distance between the two of you that much more tangible.

You felt your phone buzz next to you and your eyes unintentionally went to the clock.

9:45 pm.

The texts were getting later and later each time.

You already knew what awaited you, but you couldn’t help but scan the message regardless.

“Can’t come tonight, only have a few days till the season ends and the guys wanna make the most of it. Be there next time. Noche.”

There it was again, that unexplainable feeling in your chest, like your heart was always one step ahead of your brain, preparing for the loss of something that hadn’t yet left. Your mind was an incomprehensible mess, a jumble of contrasting thoughts and memories, forcing you to overthink situations and undervalue your emotions.

You lifted your head watching your roommate land with a thump on the couch beside you, “He canceled again, didn’t he?”

You opened your mouth, an excuse on the tip of your tongue.

She held up her hand, “Don’t try to defend him. He knows it isn’t fair.”

You avoided her gaze, “You don’t get it. He’s really in demand and-”

“It doesn’t matter that he’s famous or a professional athlete, that doesn’t discredit his actions, or put the blame on anyone but him.”

She continued, “Look Gavi’s a good guy, I like him,” you stared at her, “I do! But he’s stupid if he doesn’t realize that he’s losing you. I know you, and while you might make excuses for him now, I know that sooner or later you’re going to notice that he hasn’t been treating you like you deserve, and you’ll be smart enough to leave.”

You felt the impact of her words full force, like a sledgehammer beating into your body. All the signs were there, right in front of your face, and you had been turning a blind eye, not wanting to admit what your heart already knew.

You knew it. The distance you had felt hadn’t been in vain – every day you could feel the connection between the two of you chip away, so small, you wouldn’t think to notice it till you stood back and looked at the bigger picture.

As a result of both your busy schedules, you both had come up with the idea of having Tuesday night, the most boring day of the week as agreed on, reserved for just the two of you. On Tuesday you didn’t have classes that ran well past dinner time or have to pick up late-night shifts at the restaurant, and he didn’t have evening practice. It was perfect. Tuesday was yours.

Except it had been four weeks since you’d had a proper conversation with Gavi, and you couldn’t help but see the difference in your relationship when you first got together, both eager and determined to spend as much time together as possible, to now, where even if you attended his games, you two still managed to get away without speaking.

You shook your head, “I-I need to take a walk.”

She reached over placing a hand on your shoulder, “Y/n. I’m sorry-”

You shook it off, standing up, “No it’s ok, it’s not your fault. I just need to clear my head.”

You felt the cool night breeze hit you as you walked the streets of Barcelona. It was unusually quiet in this part of town, the lights from the main strip didn’t reach this far out, and for a moment the quiet reminded you of your hometown.

If you closed your eyes, it was almost like you were fifteen again, back in your childhood bedroom, before the ideas of pretty boys with big brown eyes and the weight of managing both university and a job plagued all your thoughts.

You reached a lookout point, the top of the hill dropping to show you the expansive city below. You stared out, the buildings looked so small up here, barely more than a glowing dot in the dark, the cars a blur of soft yellow. You wondered which tiny dot Gavi was in. You wondered if he had checked his phone, seeing that you hadn’t texted him back like you usually did. You wondered if he even cared.

You shook your head trying to get rid of the unwanted thoughts.

Your relationship with Gavi was good. He made you laugh like nobody else, whispering secrets in each other’s ears like schoolchildren, making forts out of old sheets in his childhood bedroom when you met his family for the first time. You remembered his sweet smile, the way his eyes would crinkle unintentionally when he couldn’t hold back his excitement or happiness. You remembered confiding in him about school, how you were so stressed because you couldn’t manage eighteen credits while simultaneously holding a job that required you to be on your feet for hours at a time. You could still feel the soft caress of his hand, as he squeezed yours, providing you comfort, cracking a badly executed joke here and there just to get you to smile while listing a hundred reasons why if anyone could do it, it would be you.

So, if he made you feel all those things, why did his absence make you feel so tiny, so insignificant?

Your finger hovered over the call button, and you hit it hesitantly.

You just wanted to hear his voice.

That would be enough.

It rang seven times before the line went dead.

It took you a moment to realize you hadn’t put your phone up to your ear, waiting with bated breath for the timer on the screen to start, indicating he had picked up, but it never did.

You stuffed your phone back into your pocket, the same unsteady feeling in your heart strumming.

Once.

Twice.

Then it was gone.

You came home to a quiet apartment and your roommate already asleep.

You shuffled into your room silently, you would give it one more week you decided. Next time would be the last.

The next week came, and while it was the first week Gavi had off from training, he had already planned to go to Ibiza to attend a music festival with his hometown friends. He had invited you, but it was more of an afterthought, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to go because of rushed ‘you can come if you want’ and a barely there apology so you left it.

You got an ‘I’ll miss you’ text from him and for a moment it made you smile, filling you with warmth. However, an ‘I miss you’ only did so much, and other than his sweet messages, there was really no intent behind his words.

Now it had been two days since Gavi had gotten back from his Ibiza trip, and you couldn’t hide the surprise on your face when you glanced over and saw a Facetime call from Gavi.

When was the last time the two of you had Facetimed? Maybe two months ago? It was much easier to send a text, the times both of you were free were few and far between.

You answered the call, pushing your textbook to the side. The dark grey interior of Gavi’s car greeted you.

“Hello?” You asked.

“Hey, Y/n long time no talk.” Gavi joked, but you felt your stomach flip at the truth behind his words.

“I can’t see you.” You said.

“Oh shit, did I accidentally Facetime? My bad I told Siri to call and she must have Facetimed instead. Let me call you.”

You went to speak but heard the three beeps indicating the call had been cut.

You heard the phone ring again and bit back a sigh. You just wanted to see his face.

You answered on the second ring.

“Hey sorry about that. I wanted to call and tell you that I’m back from Ibiza.”

“Yeah, I know.” You admitted, “I remembered.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Well, anyways I wanted to ask you to come with me to the Spanish football gala tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

You heard some shuffling and suddenly Gavi’s voice was much clearer and closer to the phone. You assumed he took it off speaker.

“Can you not come?”

You hesitated, “Uhm I’m not sure. It’s so last minute and I’m already scheduled at the restaurant tomorrow.”

“Can’t you just take off?” He persisted.

You felt your brow furrow, “I’m already on the schedule, I can’t just decide to take off the day before, I need to find someone to replace me.”

“Ok, tell whoever that I’ll sign a jersey for them if they do.”

You suddenly felt angry. Why did he think that you could only get a day off work if he helped you out? Were you not capable of handling your own situations? You hated feeling like this, like you weren’t even your own person, just a shadow of who you were with.

“No that’s fine. I’ll just take off like you said, simple.” You couldn’t help but let the bitterness seep into your voice.

He went to say something, probably sensing the shift in your mood, but you cut him off, “I have to go. Bye Gavi.”

You hung up before he could respond.

Finding someone to replace your shift was easier said than done, but after some back and forth, and a promise to Marcus to cover his next two shifts, you were free.

Free to prance around in a hall filled with people you barely knew, with a boy who you thought about more in your memories than you saw in real life.

The night of the gala arrived, and you were decked out, wearing the earrings Gavi had gifted you for your one-year anniversary paired with a necklace you had received after graduating high school.

Gavi had originally said he would pick you up but had sent a quick text earlier in the morning explaining that the team was getting ready together at a hotel, and to just meet him at the venue.

Your roommate had agreed to drive you and you gave her a grateful smile as you got in the car.

“Ana thank you for taking me.”

She brushed the comment off playfully, “No problem. Gotta step up when Gavi steps down.”

You let out a short laugh, “My hero.”

You got to the venue a couple of minutes before you had planned to meet Gavi and nervously walked around, staying out of the path of cameras.

You found someone to take you to a tent where some Barca staff were waiting for the players to start the program.

You walked in, a surprised look taking over your face once you noticed Pedri and a few other players in the corner.

You weren’t aware that some of the players from the hotel had arrived yet.

Pedri noticed your entrance and came over to say hello.

You gave him a quick hug, making casual small talk.

Just ask him, a voice in the back of your head urged.

Finally, you bit the bullet, attempting to sound as casual as possible, “How did you guys get here so early? I thought everyone was leaving the hotel at 6.”

“Ehh, it wasn’t that important, so I skipped it. Half the guys didn’t go anyway, and the other half just went to play FIFA. Besides I beat them every time, so it gets a little boring after a while.”

You tried to laugh at his joke, but could only manage a watery smile, mind running a mile a minute.

So Gavi hadn’t actually needed to go but chose to.

Leaving you alone.

Again.

It wasn’t a big deal by itself. But it was the fact that this was just another item you could add to your ever-growing list of things Gavi cared about more than you. You wondered briefly if you had been wrong, and if he had missed some other event to be there with you, only to remind yourself that you hadn’t seen him in a month, so no, he hadn’t.

You were still grappling with your emotions when Gavi arrived, unsure whether to confront him or just let this be another thing you swept under the rug.

Your reunion, if you could even call it that, was lackluster at best. He had walked in with some of his teammates, immediately going to greet the rest of his team, completely ignoring you standing on the right side of the room with Pedri.

It was only once he asked where Pedri was that someone pointed the two of you out.

You felt your body deflate; he hadn’t even asked for you.

Were you overthinking things again? Maybe he had just forgotten in the excitement of seeing his whole team for the first time after the season ended?

Gavi made his way over to the two of you, reaching out to Pedri first. You watched as they exchanged a hug before Gavi’s eyes floated over to yours.

“Hey.” His voice was casual, like he was greeting a mailman, or thanking the cashier.

“Hi.”

You closed the space, attempting to hug him, but he grabbed your shoulders stopping you, looking down.

You followed his gaze.

“I don’t want to wrinkle the dress.”

You felt your heart thud against your chest, and while you knew he only had good intentions, the rejection still stung.

You stepped out of his embrace, watching his hands drop to his sides, “Okay.”

The carpet went by in a blur, you posed with Gavi for a few photos before moving to the side and letting him enjoy the spotlight, he had worked hard for it. You took a couple of photos with some of the other teammate's girlfriends and wives before you headed inside.

Once inside, there was still some time left before the actual dinner portion of the gala started. The gala was held for all Spanish football clubs as a celebration of their hard work during the season. It was also a great event to network, giving players the ability to talk with different coaches and directors they otherwise might not have gotten the chance to, allowing for discussions of thinly veiled preseason transfers to commence without the fear of unwanted ears listening in.

You found Gavi in the crowd quickly, linking your arm with his. He looked over at you, a smile taking over his features once he noticed you.

“Glad you found me.”

You noticed with great relief that his eyes still crinkled in the corners when he looked at you,

“I always do.”

The next however many minutes spent till dinner service started comprised of Gavi talking with various different players and directors as you stood like a shiny accessory off his arm, too insignificant to be acknowledged in conversation.

The call for dinner provided you solace from the repetitive conversations and mundane questions. You took a seat next to Gavi and were confused to find both Joao Felix and Antoine Griezmann seated at your table.

You leaned into Gavi, “I thought the clubs sat together?”

“Me too. I think they’re doing alphabetical tonight though.” He whispered.

“Which one’s your least favorite?” You looked up shocked at Gavi’s question, watching a boyish grin take over his features as he tried to hide his laugh, interlacing your fingers on your lap.

You shoved into him lightly, “They’re sitting right there!”

He leaned in closer, nose softly grazing your ear as he spoke, “Yeah but between me and you, I think Joao could have had a better season in Chelsea.”

You shook your head in disbelief, fighting back the smile that was threatening to spill out. Your eyes caught his and for a second it seemed like you had been transported back in time, back to when these types of moments were the standard not the exception, back when it felt like you were on each other sides, back when laughter was the antidote instead of tense silences filled with awkward hello’s.

His eyebrow lifted ask if to ask if you agreed with him, and a small murmur of agreement from you was all he needed before he opened his mouth, ready to hammer his point home, but his attention switched last second.

It was like you could visibly see the shift in his demeanor. First, it was his eyes glancing past yours, seeing the midfielder approaching. Then it was the subtle grip on your hand loosening, his fingers slipping through the gaps. Next, it was the complete shift in body, his posture straightening as he leaned his body away from yours, position shifting to face Pedri who had sat in the spot next to him.

To his credit, Pedri acknowledged the both of you but it was clear Gavi paid no mind to you, not evening sparing you a glance as he became immersed in a conversation with Pedri.

You tried to pretend it didn’t affect you and while you could lie to everyone else, you couldn’t lie to yourself. You had built up this evening up so much in your head, telling yourself that tonight would be the shifting point in your relationship and that everything would go back to the way it once was, but it was shaping up to be another Tuesday you had become all too familiar with.

Why did it feel like you were always competing for his attention?

Your mind was reeling, all the small actions Gavi did that you kept pushing aside, were floating back to the surface, each little remark or dismissal a little tug on your heartstrings till you were sure that if you stayed at the table a for a moment longer you wouldn’t be able to stop the onslaught of tears quickly approaching.

You stood from the table abruptly, catching a few people’s attention, but you gave them a polite smile, or at least you hoped it had been polite, you couldn’t focus on anything but the stinging in your eyes and the sinking feeling in your stomach.

You swiftly walked towards the restroom, glancing over your shoulder to see if anyone had noticed but your eyes fell on Gavi’s form. He hadn’t even bothered turning around.

Of course, he hadn’t.

Somehow that hurt more than anything else.

You were immensely grateful for the single-use restroom as you locked yourself in, shaky hands coming to steady yourself on the sink.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

You were internally screaming at yourself, begging yourself to keep yourself together but the feeling was too overwhelming and before you could stop you felt the first tears slip down. Your shoulders shook as you forced yourself to be silent, embarrassed about someone walking by and overhearing you pitying yourself.

One hand covered your mouth as you muffled your sobs, while the other dug into the stupid marble sink until the skin was pink and indented. The pain acted as a distraction from the unbearable pressure in your chest, and you instinctively pushed your hand harder into the sink.

Your fingers felt numb as you slowly removed them, closing your eyes to steady yourself. It was obvious that you weren’t in the best mental state, but you couldn’t exactly sit in the bathroom for the next hour to sort it out. You had to clean yourself up and go back to pretending.

Yes, pretending, you realized, was exactly what you had been doing. This whole night you had been pretending, pretending everything was okay, pretending that your relationship was fine when in truth you couldn’t even remember what Gavi’s laugh sounded like.

When had it become all pretend?

Was there anything left here? Were your best years behind you both?

These unanswered questions haunted you as you calmed yourself down, wrapping around you like a blanket, one that provided you no comfort but rather a feeling of suffocation.

Finally, your eyes had dried, and the redness had faded significantly. You had gotten your breathing under control, and you felt a little lighter having stopped denying what had been plaguing your mind for weeks now.

You took one final glance in the mirror, smoothing out your dress as you exited the restroom.

You walked slowly back to the table. You had decided that if you could just get through tonight, go home, and cry and think some more, then by tomorrow morning you would be able to talk to Gavi and decide what to do.

But that plan had flown out the window when you arrived back at the table to a confused Gavi.

It seemed he had finally noticed your absence.

“Where did you go? They served dinner 15 minutes ago.”

“I had to use the restroom.”

“For 15 minutes?”

“There was a queue.” You lied.

He seemed to accept your answer and you chose to focus on your food rather than him.

You were halfway through your meal when you noticed Gavi giving you a double take from the corner of your eye.

“Your eyes are red.” He spoke in a hushed voice.

“I don’t know why.”

“Are you sure?” His attention was beginning to slip again, eyes darting back between you and Pedri.

“Yes, I’m fine.” You heard your voice waver on the last syllable, a tick you had when you were lying, and Gavi immediately picked up on it, facing you fully.

“What’s wrong?”

You shook your head not wanting to get into everything here.

“I’m ok.”

“You’re not.”

“Gavi.” You warned.

“What happened? Did someone say something?”

“No. Just drop it please.” Your voice had gone soft, tired of defending yourself.

“Y/n just tell me, I’ll help.” He urged.

You stayed quiet.

“What’s wrong?” He asked again, adamant to get an answer.

You felt yourself grow annoyed, why couldn’t he just let it go? Why was he suddenly interested in how you felt? You were just trying to protect what little left the two of you had and he seemed intent on destroying it.

“It’s you.”

He looked taken aback, eyes pooling with hurt and confusion, his body slightly deflating, “W-what?”

The moment was interrupted when the announcer took over the stage, beginning the presentation for the night, highlighting a few key players and matches.

You looked away first, turning to face the stage, clapping along, acting as though you couldn’t feel Gavi’s gaze burning into your back as he desperately tried to get your attention.

Once the presentation was over you were quick to excuse yourself, using the pretense of going to get a drink as a getaway.

You held your breath as you walked, praying Gavi wouldn’t follow you, and while he got up immediately once he noticed, he was quickly interrupted by another player coming to congratulate him, allowing you to slip away while he watched helplessly.

You let out a huff, leaning against the bar trying to slow your heartbeat.

“Long day?”

You looked over to see Joao standing next to you, watching as the bartender poured his drink.

“Something like that.”

He nodded, “Me too. Been a long couple of days actually.”

You smiled, “Actually, it’s been a long couple of weeks.”

He turned his head to look at you, “I take it back. It’s actually been a long couple of months.”

You raised your hand in mock surrender, “Ok I can’t beat that.”

He grinned, “Yeah not many people can.”

Your expression matched his own, and you gave your order to the bartender before turning to face him again, “So how’s the season been?”

“Shit. Honestly, I’m not even sure why I’m here I played for Chelsea this season not Athletico.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his abruptness.

“Yeah, I saw your first game. A red card first match is pretty brutal.”

His grin only widened, “Oh keeping tabs are we?”

You gave him a playful glare, “Of course gotta know how Barca’s competition is doing.”

“Oh, so you’re a Barca girl?”

“Since the day I was born.” You revealed proudly.

And it was true, even before you had met Gavi, you had loved Barcelona. Growing up in a family of football lovers, your family had declared FC Barcelona as their home club, and you had witnessed so many legends play for Barcelona and so many underdogs find their true passion at the club.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he asked, and you gave him a nod of encouragement, pretending to zip your lips shut making him smile, “Ok well it’s always been my dream to play for Barcelona. Messi was always an idol to me.” He confessed.

Your mouth dropped open in shock before you abruptly shut it, your eyes almost widening comically as you spoke excitedly, “What oh my gosh. I’m in shock. Messi? But you play with Ronaldo!” You gasped.

He laughed at your facial expression, as he whispered, “I know! That’s why it’s a secret.”

You nodded along with his words, sending him a duh expression, “Of course, I won’t say anything I promise.”

“Promise what?”

Gavi had appeared by your side, a firm hand set on your waist, as he gently tugged you back into his body.

You peeked up at Gavi to see he was already looking down at you, jaw set. You gulped.

“Nothing much, just talking about the season.” You replied.

You saw Gavi’s eyes flicker between the two of you before he brought you closer, “Can we please talk?”

You bit your lip unsure but nodded.

He slipped his hand into yours as he led you to a quieter area. You waved goodbye to Joao as Gavi pulled you through the crowd, and he held his drink up in response.

He was a nice guy. You hoped next season would be better for him than the last.

He guided you to a standing table and propped your hands on the table as he played with the ring on your index finger.

“This a really pretty ring, is it new?” He asked eyes focused on your fingers.

“No, I got it last month.”

“I haven’t seen you wear it.”

“I’ve worn it every day since I got it.”

“Oh.”

You gently removed your hand from his, knowing that talking circles about something so small was going to get you nowhere.

“What do you want Gavi?” You asked quietly.

His voice came out gravelly, “I want to know how I let it get to the point where you feel more comfortable calling me Gavi rather than Pablo.”

His words when straight to your heart, and you could feel his pain almost as much as you could feel your own.

“I-I don’t know.”

You heard his breath falter, “I miss you calling me Pablo. Hell – I even miss you calling me Pablito. I’d take anything over whatever this is.” He gestured pointing between the two of you.

“Ok then let’s talk about it. Let’s talk about where it went wrong.”

His eyes lifted at your words, “Why are you speaking in the past tense?”

You remained silent.

“Amor please, why are you speaking in past tense?” You could hear the panic building in his voice.

“I think we don’t spend enough time together.”

“Ok we can fix that. No problem.” He agreed, desperate to save what was slowly unraveling.

“But do you want to? Fix it I mean?”

“Of course, I do. Please just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.” His voice was almost near begging, and you knew without a doubt that you were in a similar state.

You couldn’t believe that this was happening here, in front of all these people, but it wasn’t fair to either of you to hold it any longer. You had to have this conversation sooner or later and it seemed like tonight was the time for it.

“Sometimes I feel like you don’t have time for me.” You finally admitted what you had been feeling for the last month.

He shook his head rapidly, “I do! But I mean we both have such busy schedules, you have even less time than I do with school.” he argued, “You also have work so that cuts down on the time we have too, but I’m not complaining.”

You were trembling with anger as you spoke, but you kept your voice low, “Yes, because I have to work a job to be able to afford college. I hate the hours probably more than you do, but I do it because I have to. I don’t have an option. I want to go to school? I have to fund it. But you? You didn’t have to go out with the guys after practice or stay around Ansu’s to play FIFA, but you did. That was a choice you made.”

He opened his mouth to retaliate but you weren’t done, “And I’m not even mad about that. I’m mad that for the last month, you’ve put me below every other person in your life, treated me like I’m dispensable, someone who you only consider when you need something. I feel cheap. Like something you only want when it’s convenient to you.”

“That’s not true. You’re my girlfriend!” His voice shook as he spoke, and you realized he was probably just as scared as you were.

“Then why do I feel like I’m not?” Your voice came out soft, barely above a whisper, but it felt like delivering the final blow to an already sinking battleship.

You felt his eyes on you, eyes glazing over as hundreds of unushered words filled the space between you, but the moment was cut short, and you had to remind yourself that you were in public as Xavi approached the two of you.

You gave Xavi a quick hug before he congratulated Gavi on a great season.

Gavi only nodded, murmuring short responses, eyes glancing at you every few seconds like he was scared you would disappear from his life if he wasn’t watching.

He left after a moment, and then the two of you were alone again.

“I’m sorry Y/n, I had no idea that’s why you were working. I would’ve given you the money if you just said something-“

“I don’t want your money Gavi! It’s yours, not mine.” You said exasperated.

“C’mon Y/n you know I have enough to provide for the both of us. You don’t have to work-“

“I don’t want that! In fact, right now I don’t even want to be in this relationship!”

The boy physically shrunk back at your words, your admission sending him into silence as he processed your words.

Finally, he spoke, head shaking in denial, not wanting to admit what was right in front of him, “I-I don’t understand.”

You wanted to yell at him to notice all the signs you’d been sending him, beg him to understand the things you couldn’t say but had always been lurking in the shadows, easy enough to make out if you just paid attention. You wanted to scream that it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair that Gavi got to pursue his passion while you were being told to give up yours. Your head was filled with millions of things you wanted to say to him, thousands of little moments you wanted to share with him, you wanted to confide in him about how scared you were, how you had never felt like this in your life, how the thought of him slowly falling out of love with you was ripping your insides apart, making you sick to your stomach. There were so many things but not one left your mouth.

“I know you don’t.” Your voice sounded tired, even to your own ears, and you wondered if this was it. If this is where the two of you parted ways.

“I-I’m just going to go home.”

“I’ll grab our coats.”

You placed your hand gently on his, giving him a sad smile, “It’s ok. I think I’ll go alone.”

Neither of you could deny what it meant.

He ducked his head so you couldn’t see his red eyes. There was a moment of silence, and you could tell he was fighting with himself, trying to figure out what to do to stop the inevitable, until he slowly nodded,

“Ok.”

He had just sealed your relationship closed, something you were grateful for because you knew you couldn’t have done it yourself.

He didn’t lift his head as you walked away, and you didn’t blame him.

You grabbed your coat quickly, bidding goodbye to a few people as you made your way out of the hall.

As you walked down the hallway towards the main doors you realized you didn’t have a ride back. Your roommate had dropped you off and you assumed Gavi would drop you back. Well, that wasn’t happening now. Train it was. One glance out the window told you it was raining, downpouring to be exact.

How fitting. At least the weather matched your mood.

You stepped outside, immediately becoming drenched, but somehow you found comfort in it, at least this way no one could see you cry.

You were about halfway down the steps when you heard the door slam open, yelling coming from behind you.

You spun around, surprised to see Gavi stepping into the rain, “Please stay. Please.”

You stood frozen, unsure of what to say.

You were sure he wouldn’t follow you. But he had.

He kept taking steps closer to you, closing the distance, till you were only two steps apart, “Stay.”

His eyes searched your own, looking for something, maybe a sign that there was hope, something you weren’t sure you could provide.

“Just let me go. We can talk about this tomorrow.”

He shook his head, breath unsteady, “No I can’t. I can’t. I feel like if I let you go now, I’ll never see you again.”

You bit your cheek looking away, he was right. After tonight you had no intention of talking to him again.

His shoulders drooped at your silence, and he sat down on the steps of the building, harsh rain pounding down on him, matting his hair and drenching his extremely expensive suit, but he didn’t seem to care, “I hate fighting with you.”

You glanced down at his figure, watching him sit in the rain with his head in his hands, utterly defenseless.

“But I hate even more that it’s my fault, and that I couldn’t see what I was doing until I felt what you did, just for a second, and it hurt like hell.”

“I should have been there for you. I should have made time for you. I knew what I was doing wasn’t right but then I kept thinking it’s fine I’ll make it up to her next time, but next time never happened because I never showed up. I guess I was just so focused on making sure my teammates all liked me, and they had just stopped treating me like a kid, finally inviting me places - and I’m not using that as an excuse because I know it’s a shit one, it’s on me. Nobody forced me to do anything, I just wanted to feel included, and I put everyone else’s feelings above yours when yours was the one that was the most important to me.”

He finally lifted his head, and he was close enough that you could see the tears streaming down his face as he looked intently at you, almost like he was trying to memorize you, “If you want to walk away you can, you should - I’ll understand. I just wanted to apologize, really apologize, and own up to everything I did. I love you, and I promise you I won’t take anyone for granted the way I did with you.”

Your expression mirrored his own, and the tears were falling freely at his confession now that it was just the two of you. All the things you had wanted him to realize he had. All the things you wished he had said, he finally did.

But was it too late?

“Thank you, Pablo.”

He let out a short laugh through his tears, “No, thank you.”

You gave him a soft smile before you put distance between the two of you, letting the rain mask the sound of you leaving.

The lights from the venue grew dimmer as you continued walking, and you spared one last glance over your shoulder before it disappeared from view, seeing Gavi’s tiny figure rooted in place, watching you leave.

Your steps faltered.

How could you leave this relationship, this boy, when every single warning sign was going off in your brain, telling you to turn around and fight, to not give up? He had understood, he had understood exactly what you had felt, and had owned up to his mistakes, what else could he have done? He couldn’t go back and make it better, but he could change the way he treated you, but how would you acknowledge the change if you didn’t stick around?

It didn’t feel right walking away.

You thought you would feel content, feel like the pressure was lifting from your shoulders, but the dropping feeling in your stomach was multiplying, and your heart was constricting painfully at the thought of never seeing him, never laughing with him, never kissing him again, at the idea of falling in love with someone that wasn’t him.

You never ran faster in your life.

Let him be there. Please let him be there.

You didn’t know how you could explain yourself if you had to walk back into the event sopping wet, eyes puffy, and nose runny.

You couldn’t stop the wide smile that stretched across your face as he realized he was right where you left him.

You sat next to him and he didn’t notice until you spoke.

“Pablo.”

His head shot upon hearing your voice, and his face lifted for a second before falling again, “Di-Did you forget something?”

You nodded.

“Ok I can get it for you, what is it?” He cleared his throat, trying to make his voice clear.

You shifted closer to him, bodies pressed against each other, “I forgot that I love you. I love you and I want to work this out. I’m happy that you took responsibility and I believe you. I believe that you won’t do it again. But I should apologize too – I also wasn’t fair to you, and I did things that I shouldn’t have just to get back at you for making me feel so small.”

“I’m sorr-”

You cut him off, “Let’s stop apologizing.”

He nodded, eyes looking at you with nothing but love and admiration,

“Ok but we’ll have to work on our communication.” He said, and you hummed in agreement.

You touched your forehead with his, staring at each other with baited breaths until he finally closed the distance and kissed you. After a month of not seeing each other, you were finally kissing, pouring all your emotions, all your love, all your pain into the kiss, making a promise to be there for each other, and it felt like coming home.

alternate ending

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doctorwhoandfairytaillover · 3 months ago

Text

Loving Arms (3)

Summary: The children of Viserys I from his wife Alicent Hightower had always been lacking in affection from their parents. They simply didn't realize how much until their widowed aunt was brought into their lives. (AU where Alicent has an older sister and her kids get the love that they deserve, takes place some time after the Driftmark event)

Part III: Conversations over tea

|| Loving Arms Masterlist ||

A/N: Sorry for those of you who saw this before it was fully done! I tried the mobile app and don't plan on doing that again. 😅 P.S I tried a different way with the tag list, and hopefully it worked!

The Targaryen siblings were seated in a semi - circle in the chambers of their aunt, while she sat on the chair of her vanity looking at them with an expression of bemusement.

"Typically, when a child asks to be excused from the table at supper, it is to go and do anything besides seek out another adult" she chuckled.

"It is just.... we hoped to speak with you without our Mother or Grandsire present," Aemond mumbled. "From what we saw at supper, we did not think things would be productive with them present."

"Well... I suppose you are not wrong there," she laughed. She settled herself comfortably on her hair and slowly began to take out the pins from her hair, loosening the tight hold she had placed on it from the style she had it in.

While she did so, the children looked over her features to see if they could spot any similarities between themselves and their aunt. Apart from her distinct auburn hair that she shared with his sister, their aunt looked nothing as they expected of her. But then again, they had such little expectation until they had the opportunity to meet her.

Feeling their gazes, she stilled her hands and met their curious stares. "It would be considered rude to stare at a lady, is there something troubling all of you?"

"Well.... we know so little about you, muña" Aegon said. "We really were not sure what to expect with your arrival, even more now since it is quite obvious that there remains tension between our mother, grandsire, and you."

"I did very little to hide it, didn't I?" she sighed and rubbed at her shoulders to release the pressure settling into her body from the days event.

"Muña?" said Aemond. "Why did you come to King's Landing? And why do you not get along with mother or grandsire?"

Her smile faltered and she cleared her throat uncomfortably, "Let... let me have someone bring us some tea and a comfortable change of clothes for the three of you." She brushed her skirts and fidgeted with her hands. "This... this will be a rather long conversation, if it goes the way that I think this will. I will be... as honest as I can be. Just... give me a moment. Alright?"

The siblings nodded nervously, her own tense smile was a clear enough indication that she was uncomfortable.

Before she left the room to change, Halaena reached out quickly and took her aunt's hand in her own, all the while shaking as she did so as she was so unused to giving her touch freely.

"Muña, we are prepared t - to listen but only what you are w - willing" Halaena stammered. Her gaze dropping down to her feet, plucking and picking at the skirt of her dress.

Their aunt whispered in return, "Thank you."

------------------

When all had dressed comfortably in their night shirts and shifts, they sat once more in their places. A few teacups were placed in front of the children and carefully their aunt poured each of them a steaming cup.

"I am not one for wine before bed," she attempted a laugh. "I hope you all do not mind, I find it can be quite relaxing for both the body and mind."

The children were quiet, nursing their cups in their hands and looking at one another, unsure of how to keep the conversation. But this did not escape the careful eye of their aunt, deflating in disappointment of herself.

"I am sorry," she said. "I suppose it is a bit difficult to really know where to start with this conversation and do not wish to place that burden on the shoulders of you three. You are all far too young to be worried about the mess that is our family and the affairs that come with it."

"Muña, I do not think we can be too young to know about the shortcomings of our family if mother and grandsire already have the intention of marrying Halaena and I soon" Aegon countered.

She scoffed in disbelief, "Surely you must be joking. Our family has always followed the Faith of the Seven, marriage between brother and sister is not permitted. It is absolute madness, no matter what those daft Targaryen ancestors of yours say!"

"I wish it were simply a joke, muña" Aegon said seriously. "But our grandsire says this would strengthen my claim to the throne and that as Targaryens we are within our right to marry."

"No! Absolutely not!" she said. "I will fight this tooth and nail if I absolutely must, but you and Halaena are not getting married. Is that understood?"

"Yes muña," the pair said with equal sighs of relief.

"The old man is going senile if he thinks that I would let such a marriage occur, he might know the ways of this court but the man does not know how the politics of marriage work at times" she huffed as she took a drink from her tea. "He claims that he was the one that arranged my marriage to your uncle, may the seven rest his soul. But I was the one that made my match and no one else, he thought I was a lost cause."

"Because of your... your," Aemond wasn't sure how to word it.

"My disfigurement?"

"I was trying to find the right words to be tactful, muña" Aemond blushed.

"Do not worry about my feelings pertaining to it, my sweet boy" she soothed. "I have had many years to understand that it is best to not beat around the bush when it comes to the topic, alright?"

The one - eyed prince nodded in appreciation.

"But yes," she murmured. "When I was very young, your grandsire did not think I would ever find a match because of my disfigurement. The skin on my face is still puckered and scarred from where I was burned, and my left eye can see nothing but light."

"You say you were burned," Aemond noted. "My eye was cut by my nephews, the sons of Rhaenyra. Who hurt you?"

She grimaced, "I do not think that I should be telling you that."

"Why not? Do I know who did it?"

"Yes, sweet boy and I do not want to be the one that changes your perception of them."

"Simply tell him, muña" said Aegon. "You said it yourself, the topic isn't one that you need to beat about the bush."

She rubbed at her temples tiredly, "Using my own words against me now. I suppose that I should keep my word about it."

"Who was it?" Aemond asked again.

"Alicent, your mother."

All three of the children looked at her wide - eyed, it was incomprehensible to them that their own mother could have possibly done such a thing. The burns took up the majority of the left - hand side of her face, it was difficult to think of how their mother could have done it and for what reason.

"I will tell you all the story another time," she sighed. "I am not particularly fond of how or why it even happened. People say we should forgive and forget, but it is not an easy thing to forget when the reminder looks back at you in the mirror every day."

"But muña, you said that we could talk about all these things" Halaena said. "You are delaying the conversation."

"We can talk about these things. But I think it would be better if that was a conversation that we saved for another time, it is too complicated of a story to tell. Or maybe it isn't, but I do not feel like having it today."

"Do you promise to have the conversation?" the young girl asked. "People tell us that one day we will be told or one day we can understand, but they never keep their word."

Their aunt looked at each of their young faces, hopeful and yet no expectation because of the many times that someone else had let them down before.

"I promise, my sweet loves. And may the seven strike me where I stand if I do not keep my word."

Satisfied, the three finally took a sip of their tea, only to then have varied expressions of disgust.

The elder lady Hightower burst into laughter at their faces, trying to stifle the amusement. "Either your tea went cold or all three of you have not partaken in drinking much tea, have you?"

"I tend to drink wine, not this leaf water that we have swallowed," Aegon stuck his tongue out in mild disgust.

"If tea is solely leaf water then wine is merely grapes that have spoiled," she teased. "But I suppose my gifts for you all will not have much use then."

"Gifts?" they all asked, because for as much talk that they were grown, the siblings were still only children.

"Yes," she laughed. "But now that I think on it, perhaps the gifts had a bit of selfishness on my part."

She stood and walked to the trunk near the foot of her bed, opening it, she picked up three small bundles of cloth and placed each bundle of the hands of her nephews and niece. Quickly Aegon opened his, finding a light purple tea cup with a golden handle and filigree along its rim. Halaena was more gentle as she unraveled her bundle to find her tea cup was a rosy hue and a darker red handle with ladybugs along its rim. While Aemond carefully found a sky blue tea cup with a silver handle and filigree.

"I was not sure what to gift you all, but I thought that perhaps, your own tea cup that we could use every time that we come together for a chat" she said sheepishly. "But if you all do not like tea, they could serve as a decoration and reminder of today."

"I do not mind tea," Aemond said.

"I suppose I could tolerate it" said Aegon.

"If we drink it then I would like some sweets to make it tastier" Halaena said looking over the ladybugs.

Their aunt laughed and quickly wiped at her eyes, "I will make sure that I have some sweet tarts or other treats for our next conversation. I will look forward to it."

The three flushed happily and looked at their tea cups fondly, already looking forward to the next time that they would spend time with their beloved muña.

#x reader #x reader insert #house of the dragon x reader #x aunt reader #aegon x reader #aemond x reader #platonic #helaena x reader #loving arms series

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 1 year ago

Text

Studious IV (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+

You continue reading Aemond's diary. As his true feelings for you become ever more clear, can you decipher your own feelings for him?

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: Aemond in his smut writer era (semi-public sex, p in v sex, tiddy suckin', riding, fingering, oral sex f receiving, bad sex)

Author's Note: So sorry for the delay! But this baby is 11K words, so hopefully that makes up for it! Also, I tried for a long time to format this like the others, but tumblr wouldn't let me post it if I did, so the formatting is a little different here.

Read Part I Here - Read Part II Here - Read Part III Here

My Masterlist

Taglist will be done via reblogs (there are simply too many of you to fit here)

Studious IV

You were never setting foot in the library again.

Not after what you just read. Not when you were sure that the mere memory of it would have you bursting into flames the moment you crossed the threshold.

Good gods, only a few entries ago, Aemond could hardly bring himself to write the word ‘cunt,’ and now this? What in the Seven Hells were his advisors – Grand Maester Orwyle, Lord Jasper Wylde, and Prince Aegon – teaching him?

You weren’t sure whether the odd feeling in your stomach was due to how much you ate – an entire meat pie and five tea cakes, all washed down with a pot and a half of raspberry tea – or what you had just read.

Either way, it was not enough to stop you from glancing about your bedchamber to ensure no one was watching you and then rereading the entry from the beginning.

The 16th day in the 5th moon of the year.

I have just returned from the library. Grand Maester Orwyle suggested that I consult a book on anatomy. Since there was no business of court I was required to attend today, I asked one of the librarians to help me retrieve the title after I finished my training.

I also found a few books Aegon recommended, only after I dismissed the librarian – I did not want him to know that I took those. Or that I even knew what they were. Gossip abounds in the capital, and I do not wish to be the subject of more than I already am.

By the titles alone, I am surprised Mother allows them to remain in the Keep. I likely will not read most of them. Aegon has already traumatised me quite thoroughly. I see no reason to allow him to ruin reading for me, as well. Although one title, ‘A Caution for Young Girls,’ seems innocent enough.

But the books are not why I am writing now, when my usual routine is to write immediately before I retire to bed. I just… I need to commit this to paper before it leaves me entirely.

On my way out of the library, I saw her. My wife – if I die tomorrow or in a hundred years, I shall never tire of calling her that.

She has quickly found the more private areas of the library, it seems. I would never have seen her if I had not been considering going there to read myself.

It must mean something that she did not choose just any of the countless hidden places within the maze of the library, but my favourite – a secluded alcove along the western wall. An indicator of our compatibility, perhaps. Or even a sign from the gods?

Had the books I’d been carrying not been so… unsuitable, I would have asked to join her.

No, I wouldn’t have. That would require far more courage than I can summon when I see her.

I just stared at her, watching her face as she read. From where I stood, I could not see what she was reading. But I could see her, and that was enough.

She is so expressive! I saw her both smile and frown in quick succession, and once, her entire face scrunched in displeasure as if she had just taken a bite of lemon! Gods, how can even such an unpleasant expression be so beautiful?

Perhaps I should not have watched her at all, for the longer I stood there, the further my mind drifted. And then, I heard Aegon’s voice, as clearly as if he were standing beside me.

‘Don’t limit yourself to the bedchamber brother, or even the bed! A wall or a table serves just as well. And there is a certain thrill to knowing you could be discovered…’

Damn him. Why did I ever ask for his assistance? I would have been better off enlisting the help of an actual whore! At least then, the vulgarity would not come from the future King. Damn him to the deepest of the Seven Hells.

But that stupid advice echoed in my mind over and over. And against my will and better judgement, an image began to form. A dream – a waking dream.

Though my feet remained planted on the floor, I imagined setting aside my books and joining her in that alcove. She would look up and smile upon hearing my approach, perhaps even giggle at my attempt at stealth.

I would sit beside her and ask what she was reading. I might even ask her to read to me. But I would not let her read for long.

I would kiss her while she read. Not on her lips but all over her perfect face. Her cheeks, her forehead, on the tip of her nose. All just to distract her, to make her laugh. Only when she made so much noise that I feared discovery would I kiss her lips to quiet her and finally claim my prize.

The kiss would not be like in the Sept, or in her chambers that night. Instead, she would kiss me back and open herself to me. I would kiss her, and kiss her, and kiss her. Until we were both out of breath but still wanting more.

Seeing her like that, with her lips swollen and cheeks flushed… I would not be able to wait until we returned to our chambers. I would lift her onto that very table, books be damned.

Like our wedding night, we would not undress. We would be in too much of a hurry.

But even hurried, I would be gentle. I would take the time to prepare her, as Lord Wylde said I must do every time. Doing so makes the experience more pleasurable for the woman, he says. And Orwyle added that her enjoyment makes it more likely that the coupling will be fruitful.

Gods, I hardly care about that anymore. Of course, I want an heir, or several. But I want her more. I want her to feel as much pleasure as I do. To ‘peak,’ as Wylde and Orwyle put it. Aegon uses other words, but I find them too vulgar.

And in the library, making an heir would be the last thing on my mind. Even finding my own pleasure would be secondary. I would use my fingers to prepare her – perhaps get her to peak once before I even enter her?

Aegon says women can find release much more than men can. According to him, he once made a woman peak ten times in one night. I would be more amenable to believing him if he didn’t also claim he did so five times. But maybe he is right about ‘practising’ increasing stamina. Though he has had years of practice, and I have had only two days…

But in the dream world where I have the courage to approach her at all, and the gall to bed her in the library of all places (can you call it ‘bedding’ if it is not done in an actual bed?), I also have that stamina. And the skill to indeed make her peak with just my fingers.

I do not know what sounds she would make, as she was entirely silent on our wedding night, but I would want her to make them. I would want her to make such noise that I would have no choice but to kiss her to quiet her and keep her from drawing the attention of the rest of the library.

Even when I was buried within her, I would kiss her. With one arm wrapped around her hips to hold her steady as I fucked her so hard the table would shake, and the other hand tangled in her hair so I could kiss her just as hard.

I want to kiss her so badly. When I finally go to her again, that is what I will do first.

Once we had both finished – for I would ensure she peaked again with me inside her – I would kiss her more, softly, until our breathing steadied. Then, we would simply take our seats again, and this time, I would read to her.

By all the Seven, what has become of me? To not only have such thoughts but to revel in them as I do?

You didn’t bother reading the rest of the entry again before clutching the diary to your chest and staring at the bed canopy above you as a thousand questions burned through your mind and set your heart racing.

Had he been thinking about that the day he came to you in the library?

Was it what he intended to do, had you not reacted so poorly to his words?

Were you really wishing that he had?

You turned on your side, cradling his diary as you once did a small stuffed pony, and noticed for the first time that night had fallen – you had spent nearly the entire day reading. For a moment, you considered running to Aemond’s chambers. But when you looked back at the journal, there were still more than a dozen ribbons shut in its pages.

And if you went to him just after reading what you did…

Whatever was becoming of Aemond, no doubt thanks to the men he had asked for help in better bedding you, by reading his diary and the most private thoughts and fantasies contained within, it was becoming of you too. For when your eyes drifted closed, Aemond’s dream of the library became your dream as well.

The next several days of entries were almost identical.

Aemond woke at dawn after a night of dreams filled with you. They were not always of a carnal nature. Sometimes he dreamed simply of holding or kissing you. Once, he dreamed about flying with you atop his dragon. You didn’t know whether the prospect was thrilling or terrifying. Perhaps both.

Each day, he broke his fast, trained, then ate a small meal before joining court.

Before joining you.

When he wrote in the diary after dinner and several hours of studying and ‘practising’ (you still could not determine what that meant), he still remembered every little thing you did. You had never spoken at court – it was not your place to. But he had catalogued your every movement and reaction to the business of the realm. Every raise of your brows, every repressed smile, and every curious tilt of your head.

You thought you were quite proficient at maintaining a regal mask of indifference. Your mother had you practice it on the journey to King’s Landing while she commanded your brothers to shout at you the most outrageous things they could think of (much of which she promptly scolded them for when they were done).

But Aemond saw through the mask. Not only that, but he correctly interpreted every movement you made.

He knew that the twitch of your lip when Lord Bolton made a petition was a sign of your marked distaste for the man. He knew the scrunch of your brow upon the reading of a missive from a Pentosi diplomat was you noticing a contradiction from the previous message and realising the diplomat was lying. And he knew that you stiffened every time he looked at you because you were nervous about what he would say or do.

Aemond knew you. Even then.

And yet you had so dreadfully misunderstood him.

The shame of it was enough to make you set down the diary and call for a bath – a private bath, without any of your maids present even in the adjourning rooms. You gave an excuse that you were exhausted and simply wished to remain alone.

But really?

As part of his study of the anatomy book Orwyle recommended, Aemond had drawn a diagram of what lay between a woman’s legs. And annotated it based on the advice of Lord Wylde and Prince Aegon.

You were curious to see – with the aid of a hand mirror – just how accurate the diagram and annotations were.

You awoke the following morning feeling more refreshed than you had since you came to the palace, from both the welcome break in your courtly duties and the exploration you had conducted in the privacy of your bath. Though you were fairly sure you did not reach a ‘peak,’ as Aemond described it, you felt close to the height of something several times. But each time, you panicked at the intensity of the racing feelings within you and withdrew your hand. Still, those few minutes of pleasure were incredibly relaxing.

And as it was Aemond’s notes that allowed you to discover the feeling that your own clumsy attempts had failed to bring, the prospect that you would – eventually – once more join him in his bed became thrilling beyond reason.

In truth, the only thing that stopped you from rushing across the castle the very moment you emerged from the bath was the unfortunate fact that you were still bleeding, though it was light.

More than that, while your body was more than ready to forgive Aemond, your heart and mind were still hesitant. He had hurt you. He made you cry. Reading his diary helped you understand that it had never been intentional. However, you still needed to understand everything before making a final decision on whether to forgive him and if you could, as Aemond hoped in his note, ‘learn to like’ or even to love him.

So, after breaking your fast, you again settled into the couch and turned to the next green ribbon.

The 23rd day in the 5th moon of the year

Were Aegon not my brother and the heir, I would throw him from the top of the Rookery.

‘A Caution for Young Girls’ is no such thing. It is little more than a manual in promiscuity and sin!

But… damn him. It is quite educational.

Unlike the book Grand Maester Orwyle suggested, it is not focused on the science of anatomy or conception. Rather, it is entirely concerned with the pleasure of women. After all, it is the supposedly true story of a woman’s quest for pleasure.

A Wylde woman, if it is to be believed. I may have to ask Lord Jasper about it. Is this why he’s had such success with his own wives?

But that, and indeed the sinful nature of the book itself, is unimportant. What is important is that it may actually be the key to my learning how to pleasure my wife.

It spoke at length of various methods of using one’s fingers. Crooking the fingers while within seems to be crucial, as is locating a ‘sweet spot’ where her walls feel slightly different. That spot, as well as the ‘pearl’ which lays at the top of her sex, is the epicentre of her pleasure.

And, like the others said, preparation is required. This is where the use of the fingers comes into it – as well as various other methods. For example, the book mentions kissing quite often, and not only on the lips. Or the cheeks. Or even anywhere on the face.

I admit the idea, though it is new to me, is quite appealing. The book mentioned several places where women most like to be kissed. The jaw, the throat, behind the ear, the nape of the neck, the collarbone…

There was a spot of ink, as though Aemond’s pen had been resting on the page without moving for a long moment.

…the breasts, and lower.

I do not understand why. Perhaps it is because of Aegon’s incessant comments about the breasts of every woman in the Keep, save our mother and his wife – would that he would also exclude my wife! – but I find myself thinking about her breasts with startling frequency. I did not get to see them on our wedding night after I foolishly forgot to undress her.

There is a story in the book which… well, I find myself wanting to replicate. One which would provide me ample access to her breasts. But more than that, it carries an intimacy which I crave most of all.

When Lady Coryanne was serving as a handmaid to a warlock in Qarth, she often found herself called to help him ‘relax’ after a long day. On such occasions, she would mount him while he sat at his desk and ‘ride’ him while he buried his face in her breasts.

I… it was easy to imagine my wife and me in a similar, though more loving, position. Likely not at my desk, as I don’t actually use it often. But perhaps, here. On my chair by the hearth, where I read my books and write in this diary before bed.

She would come back – for she would be living here, with me, not across the Holdfast and so far away – after a long day. Maybe she would have been in the gardens, or with Mother, Helaena and the children, or in the library for hours. I would have been stuck away from her all day in meetings, court, or training.

Even apart from her for only a day, I would miss her terribly. As I do every hour I do not see her. And she would miss me too.

When she came in, she would press herself against the door as she locked it, then turn to me with a mischievous grin. I would know what she wanted, but I would not play along. Instead, I’d mutter a greeting and turn back to my book, pretending that my blood was not racing at just the sight of her. For I want her blood to be as heated as mine.

You read the last paragraph again, the realisation finally set in that Aemond was about to narrate another of his fantasies. Fortunately, after his previous entry about the library, you decided to be more cautious and had already dismissed your servants until your afternoon meal. You had suspected that there may be more in the diary that was thoroughly unsuitable for prying eyes.

And, thanks to his diligent notetaking, you knew precisely what to do when the feelings such unsuitable words provoked began to burn through you.

You undoubtedly did not want an audience for that…

I would let her tease me, pretending none of it fazed me. When she brushed her fingers lightly across my shoulders, I would not flinch. When she leaned over me further than she would really need to see what I was reading, but wanting me to see that peek of her breasts nearly spilling out from her dress, I would barely look. And when she pressed a kiss, long and slow, to my neck – gods, would I like that too? – I might even pretend it was an inconvenience.

It would vex her that I did not give her the attention she desperately wanted. Not enough to truly anger her, but only enough to make her pout. So that when she took the book from my hands and dropped it to the floor, then sat atop me in the chair with her thighs straddling mine… I would simply have no choice but to grab her little lip as she stuck it out and push it back into place before kissing her.

I would kiss her in every place the book instructs, taking my time to worship every bit of her. I want to drive her as mad as she does me just by her mere existence.

But I know she would not simply let me tease her. She would return each kiss I gave her and more. Atop me, she would roll her hips slowly, purposefully, as if we were engaged in a dance. I would be able to feel her, hot and wet and as eager as me, but each time I rose to meet her, she would pull away.

Gods, am I really wishing for her to deny me? Perhaps practising as Aegon instructed has conditioned me to crave such delays to my satisfaction.

Either way, I think I would break before she did. She is strong-willed, and with as many brothers as she has, I believe she can be quite patient. So, I would beg. I would apologise for trying to tease her and plead for her forgiveness. And for her to…

She would, I hope, without hesitation. She would rise only long enough for her to remove her smallclothes and for me to do away with my trousers. Then, we would both sit again, together, with me gently guiding her down to mount me – Seven Hells, that makes it sound like I’m a horse.

I’ll be whatever she wants.

Again, and as always, I would give her a moment to adjust and make sure she is comfortable. Orwyle’s book said that with well-endowed partners – which, according to the measurements in the book, I am – women may always need that moment.

But I would be glad to give it to her. For it would allow me to unlace her bodice, and like the warlock from the book, I could bury my face in my beloved’s breasts.

I find it hard to imagine what it would be like, how they would feel. Soft, I think. Warm, as she is. And perhaps, if I pressed close enough, I could hear her heart beating.

When I was fully settled within her, would I hear it beat faster? Or would it slow with contentment, knowing she was safe and loved – oh so dearly loved – within my arms. Perhaps it would be like the stories, and I would hear it skip a beat.

Either way, I would be more than content to just sit there, breathe her in, and let her move at her own pace. We would not need to be fast, as we would in the library. In my own rooms – our rooms – there would be no need for hurry. We could just stay there, entwined, or we could move together.

I think I would prefer it slowly. Not even seeking our releases, really. Just… enjoying each other. Enjoying the connection of our bodies, our minds, and our souls. Knowing that we are one, that the gods have made us one, and that nothing can tear us apart.

Although… I do think her legs would get tired after a while. That is something I should perhaps be worried about. Especially if she did want to move, and fast. To seek release.

If she did, I would help her. The book did not detail how, as Lady Coryanne was a servant at the time, but… I could figure it out. I could move my hips up to meet hers, or even lift her on my own? I think doing so with my hands on her hips would give me the most leverage. Or perhaps her rear?

I am very drawn to the idea of holding her close as we reach our peaks. Of feeling her breath on my skin, being close enough to hear each little noise she makes, and the sensation of her gripping me as tight as she can as she comes. Even the thought of her nails digging into me brings a certain thrill. And if I don’t reach my peak with her – which, I think, is very unlikely – we can always continue. Or move somewhere more comfortable if her legs do get tired.

At this point, I think I am more than ready to practice. Of course, this wasn’t my intention when I started writing, but… yes, I am most definitely ready. And anything else I wanted to write about seems inconsequential now.

You dropped the diary onto your heaving chest, the image Aemond’s words had painted still burning in your mind. Seven Hells, you could practically feel his strong arms wrapped around you, holding you to his chest as you moved together, his breath hot against your neck as he whispered words of praise between desperate kisses.

With a hazy smile, you snuggled further into the couch and beneath your blanket. As exhilarating as the descriptions of his desires were, what truly warmed your heart was the way he wrote about you, the two of you together.

The connection of your souls as one? It was exactly what you’d dreamed of when first told of your betrothal. Aemond was what you dreamed of.

Why did he have to stop writing? What in the name of the Seven was he practising that was more important than that?

Frustrated and with your pleasure now truly over, you closed the diary and turned on your side, resigned to simply stewing in your own thoughts for the few hours left until your maids returned.

After a light, solitary afternoon meal, you again dismissed your maids. By this point, they were more than a little suspicious about the titleless book you were reading. But, you insisted that you simply wanted to be alone, for your moon’s blood still plagued you. It wasn’t entirely a lie. You did still have some cramping and a slight headache.

In truth, it was because you knew what would happen in just a few entries – your second night together.

It surely wouldn’t be as thrilling as some of his other fantasies. You knew that firsthand. But after learning what Aemond felt for you, you were desperate to know his side of that night.

So desperate, in fact, that you barely skimmed the following two entries in your haste to reach it. Both primarily had to do with whatever smut he had read in A Caution for Young Girls. The first was a rather exhaustive list of all the ways he wanted to kiss you – and there were far more ways than you were previously aware of.

The second caused your most intense blushing yet, for it was near treasonous! After reading another story of Coryanne Wylde ‘riding’ a man, he fantasised about you riding him while he sat on the Iron Throne. It was an intriguing idea, but it seemed a little too hazardous to tempt you.

Finally, you reached what you had been waiting for.

The 26th day in the 5th moon of the year.

I had hoped not to make an entry today – for I had every intention of spending tonight in my wife’s chambers. But she is there, and tragically, I am here.

Tonight was almost worse than our wedding night.

When I saw her watching me in the training yard today, I thought… she was almost smiling – at me! She had no obligation to be there, and yet she was! She sought me out! She wanted to see me!

I had to bite back a cry of joy and relief. I immediately abandoned the rest of my training, nearly impaling the poor squire with my sword for how hard I threw it at him, so I could rush to the ramparts and greet her.

But when I got there, she was gone. I asked a few of the other lords and ladies that were there, but no one knew where she went. Even after speaking to her, however briefly, I still do not understand why she left.

You felt your cheeks flush with shame. Aemond hadn’t grimaced at you that day – quite the opposite. He had been so excited to see you there, and as usual, you had misinterpreted his reaction.

Or, based on how frequently these misunderstandings occurred, perhaps his expressions were merely indecipherable to normal people. Or, more likely, maybe just to you.

You set his diary down, careful to use one of your discarded ribbons to mark your place, and picked up your own. By this point, you had filled several pages with your reactions to Aemond’s writing – some of it sincere, some bordering on humour.

Yet you had no words to express how sorry you were that you had so thoroughly misjudged him. So you wrote nothing and just kept reading.

When I went to her chambers to check on her, I encountered one of her maids, who told me she had retired early with a headache and would not be joining the family for dinner.

Perhaps I should have gone into her chambers then and asked what was wrong. I knew – or at least suspected – that the headache was a lie. An excuse to allow her privacy. I often do the same, citing my scar. Which, as I told her, is not always a lie.

But if I had gone to her, as I wished. I would not have known what to say. Ask her why she ran from the training yard without speaking to me? Or why she wanted to avoid me and the family? Tell her I’m sorry for the disappointment of our wedding night? Ask Beg for a second chance?

I could not do it. I was tired from training and admittedly still somewhat discombobulated from realising she had been watching me. Though I did make it to her door, I merely touched the handle for a moment before retiring to my own chambers.

Now, after yet another disastrous visit… I should have gone to her earlier. I should have trusted my instincts (as Aegon often encourages me to do) instead of allowing my mind to think itself into an inescapable hole.

As I bathed and redressed, and even while attending court and dinner, I could not stop thinking about her. Agonising over what I may have done to make her flee from me?

I never even considered that she may actually have a headache until I was again at her door after dinner. The fear that I was disturbing her, perhaps making her pain worse, was nearly enough to make me turn and flee.

But then, her voice came, soft and light and so enticing. Of course, I somehow managed to answer idiotically when she asked who it was. Though she lessened the sting of embarrassment with a small joke. She is so achingly clever!

I asked her how she was, and her answer made it evident that the headache was a ruse. I am trying not to be too proud that my deduction was correct. She is not used to lying, nor is she good at it. And it is yet another thing I admire about her.

For hours, I planned what I would say to her. It was eloquent and thoughtful – practically poetry.

The tail of the last ‘y’ extended nearly an inch, and you imagined Aemond just staring at the page, consumed by his thoughts for a moment.

But her room looked different tonight. She finally unpacked.

There is a large tapestry above her hearth depicting her home keep, the field below filled with vibrant pink flowers with bright yellow centres. The same flowers appear nearly everywhere. On framed examples of embroidery, on her curtains, pillows, and even the blanket strewn over the back of her couch.

I must find out what they are, for they are clearly very important to her.

You looked up from the diary, glancing about your room. Indeed, you had not realised how many dog roses decorated your possessions. It was no wonder he guessed they were your favourite.

‘I was quite impressed when you brought me my favourite flower,’ you wrote in your diary. ‘I thought you had somehow read my thoughts. I suppose I made it easy for you.’

She also has a large bookcase in her sitting room, which was specifically requested when her father sent word accepting the betrothal. Since the last time I was in her chambers, she has begun to fill the shelves with books and trinkets. I spotted a small silver bell, a wooden box carved with various birds, and a little glass flower. It was not the same flower that is so prevalent elsewhere in her chambers (this one was a pale purple rather than pink), but still quite pretty.

While pondering that flower, I returned to the couch to compare it to the pink flower on her blanket and saw what she had been reading – “The Last Dragonlords,” my first, and still favourite, history of my house. It is not a particularly rigorous academic work, but I prefer it for the sense of wonder it has for the story of my ancestors.

If, at that point, I remembered any of what I wanted to say to her, the sight of that book, and the knowledge that she was somehow reading my favourite… I lost all words. I fear I fell silent for an uncomfortably long time, for she spoke next.

She wanted to know the reason for my visit. I asked her directly about the ruse of her headache. She seemed nervous, so I told her I do the same and that I often experience lingering pain. I was tempted to remove my patch and show her, but… she was already quite nervous. I did not want to make her more so, or frighten her so thoroughly that she will never warm to me.

What lay beneath his eyepatch that would frighten you so? You had heard many rumours. That his lost eye was nothing more than a pit of darkness. That he had replaced it with a jewel. That an ever-burning fire, fueled by his hatred and rage, burned within.

Despite the stories, you felt a twinge of shame and hurt that, despite his love for you, he did not trust you with seeing him truly bare. He thought you could be frightened away.

Somehow, that shame far overshadowed any curiosity or fear about what lay beneath the brown leather of his eyepatch.

I could already tell it wasn’t going to go how I wanted – she would not meet my eye. So, I offered to leave. I would not impose myself on her when she did not want me to. That is not how I want to start this. Or, start it again.

But she did want me to go! At least, that is what I thought she meant. I am not so sure anymore. She said something about my right to be there as her husband. At the time, I thought it was her shy way of asking me to stay. Now… I think she may have just been repeating something her mother or a Septa taught her.

There was another small patch of angry scribbles.

I’m so stupid! And hardly better than Aegon. No – she may not have been particularly enthusiastic, but I am sure if she genuinely did not want me there, she would have said so. And I would have obeyed. After all, she was quick to ask me to stop some of the other things I tried to do.

She did not like the kissing.

When I first mentioned that I would like to lie with her – which I foolishly reasoned was out of my desire for an heir instead of my desire for her – she simply laid on the bed like on our wedding night. But that is not what I want. I do not want this to simply be a union of duty! At least, not anymore. And I so wanted to kiss her.

So, I beckoned her to me, and she obeyed. My hopes that this would be different were still relatively high. I got closer, touched her face, and asked if I could kiss her.

And she asked, ‘Why?’

I swear that one little word hurt more than any pain I’ve felt in the training yard. Almost more than… well, not quite more than that. But close.

I could not think of any reason other than that she is my wife, and I love her and want more than anything to kiss her. I only told her the former and the latter, for I think if I told her I loved her, she would have been more afraid than if she had seen me without my patch. And the gods must be good, for she said yes.

Then I kissed her. I held her close, and I kissed her.

It was the most wonderful thing! She was soft and warm. And when I laced my hand through her hair, she made the most delightful sound! I could have just kissed her forever.

But then it was over. She shouted and pushed me away. It was… it was just after I tried to use my tongue. I don’t think she liked it.

She asked me why I ‘needed’ to kiss her. She must have disliked it very much.

I had no other explanation than what I had already offered. At least, none that I could tell her without sending her running from me forever. So I stopped and told her I did not need it – the first lie I’ve ever told her.

When she moved back to the bed, I could not help myself. I could not let us be in a marriage where we lie together out of nothing more than duty, fully clothed and anxious to get it over with. It was foolish, and I probably scared her with the request, but I asked her to remove her nightgown. She had already taken off her robe – a massive thing in her house colours that practically drowns her.

You allowed a brief kernel of anger to spark within you, enough for you to pick up your pen and write him another little message in your diary.

‘That robe is dear to me, thank you very much. What is it that makes you hate it so?’

There is nothing more beautiful in the world than her. She puts even the Maiden to shame. I would have been happy to stare at her, to take in that beauty until I had my fill – if I would ever get my fill.

She got on the bed and positioned herself exactly how she was on our wedding night. Not quite how I pictured it, but considering her hesitancy, I did not want to push her.

It took all my control to stop myself from kissing her again when I undressed and joined her. But I did. I also resisted doing anything more than just looking at her breasts.

I sat between her legs and stared at her. While I was more than ready to begin, she was not. At all. Of course, I knew I would have to prepare her, but I hoped she would have had at least some desire for me already.

I started with gentle touches, drawing circles on her thighs. She shivered a bit when I began, but she didn’t ask me to stop. From where I was sitting, I could tell she enjoyed it, even if she didn’t understand it. She did ask me to explain, and my answer was probably lacking – how does one explain why he was so inadequate? – but she gave a small nod when I promised that tonight would be better.

Then I finally touched her where I really wanted to and was delighted to find her… well, not as wet as I’d hoped, but it was an improvement upon our wedding night! I ran my fingers over her entrance, hoping to coax more wetness from her before I truly began. And when I looked at her again to ensure I wasn’t hurting her, she smiled at me!

Encouraged, I kept my fingers at her entrance, not venturing inside yet, but continuing my preparations there while I began to seek her pearl. As the books said, I only had to draw a straight line upward from her entrance to find it.

And, oh, when I found it! Her eyes snapped shut, her back arched off the bed, and the most glorious whine escaped her! It was everything I had imagined and more. Gods, I think I could have peaked just from watching her as I circled her pearl again and again, faster and faster.

But then, she asked me to stop – begged me to.

I thought I must have done something wrong, but she shook her head when I asked if it hurt. And when I asked if it felt good, she would not answer. She merely requested that I get on with what I needed to do and leave, for she was tired. This wound cut even deeper than before with the kissing.

I wanted to prepare her more – I was going to use my mouth on her. To show her how dearly I wish to please her, how much I want to worship and love her, if only she’d let me.

In anticipation of that act, I have been consulting Coryanne Wylde’s various accounts and expert critiques of the act in order to form the perfect strategy.

To begin, I would undress her, as I planned to do on our wedding night, laying gentle, nearly chaste kisses on each new bit of skin I revealed. Once she was bare, I would kiss her. Deeply. To give her a taste of what is to come. Then, I would kiss my way down. Her jaw, her throat, her collarbone, her breasts, and the plane of her stomach.

Once I made it past her navel, I would take her leg in my hand and begin a new trail of kisses upwards. The book says to start at the ankle, but I am too impatient for that – I will begin at the knee instead.

Just when she thought I was finally about to give her what she craved more than anything, I would once again change course to kiss her lips one final time. Then, I would descend.

I would start slowly, experimenting with different tactics to determine what drives her deliciously mad. Once I knew, I would feast. I would devour her like her pleasure was the air I needed to breathe. Like her cries of pleasure were beautiful music, and I would die if it ever stopped.

I would bring her to peak once with my mouth on her entrance. Again on her pearl. Then again and again in whichever way made her scream the loudest.

Only when she was so drunk with pleasure that she could no longer rise to meet my mouth or grasp at my hair would I relent. I would make my way back up to her mouth and soothe her with gentle kisses until she had regained herself and was begging for me to finally fuck her.

But I didn’t get to do any of that.

She asked me to stop, so I did. I pumped myself a little to ensure the disappointment hadn’t rendered me incapable of performing my duty and entered her.

The preparation did help. Entering her was easier, and she did not wince as much as the first time. And she felt even more heavenly somehow. The feeling was so intense that I had to take a moment to remind myself that she only wanted me to finish quickly so she would not have to endure me any longer.

So, I fucked her. I did not make love to her, as is my true desire. I just fucked her, like she was just any woman and not the love of my life.

And then, a miracle! I thrust into her, something about the angle allowing me in quite deep, and she reacted. She gasped, breathless, and her hips snapped up to meet mine. I froze in surprise and elation. I found her ‘sweet spot!’

But when I smiled at her, she turned away and refused to look at me again.

I just kept going. I did not try to hit that spot again, so as to not upset her further. I finished as quickly as I could and left the bed.

It was stupid of me, but I turned back to her after dressing. Everything had gone so horribly, but I still love her. I still need her. So I could not just leave her like that.

I asked if I could kiss her again. She let me. I was quick, as promised.

Then I came back here, once again alone and no closer to earning her love than I was before.

I must meet with my advisors again tomorrow. Perhaps they can help me understand why I keep fucking this up so badly when all I want is for her to let me love her the way I want to and for her to love me in return.

Your heart ached so severely that you thought there might be bruises when you looked down at your chest. But there was just skin – skin that Aemond would have happily kissed, had you let him.

As horrible and confusing as that night had been for you, it had been so tenfold for Aemond. He had wanted a grand, romantic evening, and you had greeted him with only coldness and suspicion.

He called you ‘the love of his life.’ You ran your finger over those words so many times that they became smudged, then went to write something in your diary but halted with your pen hovering over the paper.

What could you write to match what he’d said about you? Even if you could, would it really be true? How many times could you say, ‘I’m sorry?’

Well, at least one more time. ‘I’m so sorry, Aemond,’ you wrote, ‘I didn’t know, and I was still scared. Not of you, but of what I thought my life was to be. If you had only told me… I do not blame you, I swear. I just wish the both of us had been more honest with each other.’

You were far too exhausted to continue. It was not yet midafternoon, and you had already been from the near-heights of carnal pleasure to the depths of your despair that the unfortunate state of your marriage was, in actuality, mostly your fault.

So, after setting Aemond’s diary aside, you picked up your embroidery basket and began to work while your mind wandered.

It was only when your maids arrived to bring you dinner that you realised that, somehow, the dog roses you intended to make had become a sprawling wisteria vine.

You dreamed of the castle garden in late spring when all the flowers were in bloom. As you walked down the garden path, you saw every colour imaginable amongst the vibrant greens. But there was only one flower you really wanted to see – and the man you knew would be waiting for you beneath them.

Just as the first purple tendrils came into view, the dream faded, and you woke to see the first hints of dawn still beneath the horizon.

Drawing your blankets over your head, you squeezed your eyes shut and stubbornly tried to fall back asleep and return to your dream – to no avail. You were well and truly awake. And it would be some time before your maids came to dress you for the day.

So, dragging the blanket from your bed with you, you trudged back into your solar and settled into the couch before picking up Aemond’s diary again.

The 27th day in the 5th moon of the year

I met with Lord Wylde, Grand Maester Orwyle, and Aegon this morning. They had advice, but it was not as… straightforward as I had hoped. There is no simple trick to get her to love me. Nothing I can study from a book and then implement with assured success.

I have to woo her. I have to be witty and pleasant and charming and… romantic.

I do not think this is going to work.

Especially not after my first attempt was so disastrous.

Lord Wylde asked that I tell him about her, so I did. When he learned she enjoys reading as much as I do, he suggested I try to find common ground there. So, I went to try and find her in the library.

She was exactly where she was the last time I saw her there, still reading “The Last Dragonlords.” I watched her for a moment, savouring the look of contentment on her face as she read, as well as a few quick reactions to the book. How I love it when her nose scrunches in displeasure!

‘That is quite the odd thing to fixate on,’ you wrote in your diary. It seemed a decent night’s sleep had helped recover some of your humour. ‘What is it, in particular, that you like about my scrunched nose?’

She did smile at me when I approached, but I think she thought I was a Maester, for her smile faltered when I greeted her. And she was so shy. Usually, when I struggle to find the right words, she breaks the silence. Today, she did not.

At least it gave me time to remember why I came to the library. She was still reading “The Last Dragonlords,” so I told her it was my favourite and asked if I could join her. I think she was somewhat embarrassed about reading a children’s book, but I assured her it was no matter and that I would nonetheless enjoy reading it with her, and she allowed me to sit with her.

My plan was to sit with her, discuss the histories, and perhaps, in time, hold her hand as a first step toward genuine affection. But the plan quickly went awry.

It all happened so fast that I don’t even remember exactly what I said. But somehow, I insinuated that she was not intelligent enough to understand the book. The book meant for children – young children.

She was very upset with me. Rightfully so! Still upset enough that she stormed out of the library after making several cutting remarks that proved that she is, in fact, quite intelligent.

After several minutes and a brief reprimand from one of the Maesters, I finally gathered myself enough to realise that she had left the book there. As well as several pages of notes.

Of course, the noble thing would have been to not look and ask a servant to return them to her. But in that moment, I was desperate, not noble. So, I looked.

Her notes were beautifully organised and remarkably thorough – the work of a true scholar! She even crafted a beautiful family tree all the way through Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters. Had I not fumbled our initial interaction so entirely, we would have had a wonderful discussion.

You had feared him finding the notes, but you had never considered that he would be impressed rather than arrogantly amused. It made sense now that you knew his true nature. Perhaps, once whatever was between you was resolved, you could have that discussion.

In all honesty, there were a few questions you had that you hoped he would be able to answer. Not least of which being why in more than a thousand years, Targaryens had only come up with a dozen names that they repeated over and over again. You wrote as much in your diary.

It was useless for me to sulk in the library, agonising over what I should have said, so I gathered the book and her notes and left the library.

An apology was more than necessary, so I went to Aegon’s rooms. After all, there is perhaps no one with more experience apologising to women. Even if his apologies are self-serving.

When I arrived, I found Mother had already found Aegon first, and was well into another tirade about his behaviour. Normally, I would be happy to watch Mother yelling at him, but I did not feel I had time to. And Aegon was glad that I granted him a reprieve.

Admittedly, I had not wanted to admit to Mother that my wife and I were… not as close as I wanted. But, as she always is, she was eminently understanding, and far more helpful than Aegon was. His only suggestion was to bring her something nice – jewels, silks, or the like.

On the other hand, Mother gave me sage advice on what to say when I go to her. As my words have been my primary point of failure, I was very grateful for this. She did also say that a gift would not be amiss. An ‘offering of peace,’ she called it. But she advised something personal, not luxurious. If the gift is too valuable, she says, it will seem as if I am trying to buy her forgiveness rather than earn it.

I knew immediately what I should get her. I thanked Mother (and Aegon) and left at once for the gardens.

I found them – the flowers she loves so dearly. Dog roses, they are called. Unfortunately, they do not grow well in our climate, but the Maester’s managed to coax a few to bloom with their various potions and other horticultural creations.

They are almost as beautiful as her.

The Maester I spoke to said that it would be best if I had them cut just before I brought them to her, to preserve their beauty. So that is what I will do.

I will not practice tonight. At least… not that kind of practice. Instead, I will rehearse my apology. I cannot fail tomorrow.

You winced slightly, knowing that the next day would not go as Aemond planned and feeling as though it was your fault. But there was no changing that now. And you had already apologised – often and profusely.

So, you wrote only a simple note: ‘I don’t recall seeing dog roses on our tour of the gardens. Did you pluck them all?’

Looking back at his diary, you took a deep, steadying breath. Only two ribbons left.

The 28th day in the 5th moon of the year

I am the stupidest, most idiotic man in all the seven fucking kingdoms.

All I was trying to do was apologise to her for my unkind – though unintentionally so! – words in the library, but somehow it ended with her crying and me fleeing from her chambers yet again.

You cringed at the memory, almost not wanting to read on.

Aegon gladly offered his explanation, even after I told him I did not want it. He insists that I have so thoroughly repulsed her that she cannot help but burst into tears at the sight of me.

Mother thinks that she is just missing her family and her home, as she said. That she is overwhelmed by being alone in a strange place, and the familiar sight of the flowers – dog roses, as I have learned – brought those feelings to bursting.

Perhaps Mother is right. But her parents left a fortnight ago, and she has shown no other signs of homesickness. And she is not alone! She has the other ladies of the court to talk to, and Helaena and Mother adore her. And me.

If she came to me, I would do anything to cheer her. Not that she would seek comfort from me, no matter how dearly I wish she would. She certainly won’t after today.

After the disaster in the library yesterday and the scolding I received from Grand Maester Orwyle after my training this morning, I knew beyond a doubt that I needed to apologise. I… the shame I feel for having played any part in the state Orwyle described her in is unbearable.

So, I went to the gardens and had a Maester cut the flowers for me and arrange them in a simple bouquet.

She was on her couch when I arrived in her rooms – still in her nightgown and that robe. And again, she did not look at me. She had eyes only for the flowers. I thought then that they had been the right choice.

I apologised, but she did not react. She still just stared at the bouquet. So, I went ahead with the rest of my apology.

Then she touched my hand. It startled me, and I pulled away from her on instinct, dropping the bouquet in her lap. She looked at them like I had dropped a helpless kitten rather than flowers!

And she started crying. Softly, the tears welling in her eyes for a long moment before spilling over. I do not understand what I did to upset her. I said only what I had planned last night. It was so hard to resist brushing the tears away, but she seemed nearly volatile, and I did not want to make things worse.

‘I miss home,’ she said, finally.

It did sting that she does not consider King’s Landing and her life with me her home – it still does. But she is hundreds of miles away from the family of her birth, from the people who have undoubtedly treated her better than I have. I cannot blame her.

I apologised again for upsetting her and left.

At dinner, I had planned to ask Mother and Grandsire if we could find a way to send her home, at least for a little while. So she could be happy. Perhaps I could even go with her. I might have an easier time talking to her without the pressures of my family and the capital upon me.

You smiled at the thought of Aemond at your home keep. Of him in all his black leather among the fields of dog roses. Talking with your father in the library. Him training with your brothers – you were confident he could defeat any one of them alone, but knowing your brothers, they would absolutely gang up on him.

‘One day,’ you wrote, ‘I would love to show you my home.’

I was waiting for the opportunity to ask when she arrived! After this afternoon, I did not think she would come to dinner, but she did! I could have wept for my relief.

And when I offered my hand to her, she took it. Not only that, but she squeezed it – hard. I think believe it was her way of accepting my apology.

She did not speak during dinner, nor did anyone ask her too many questions. Aegon was his typically infuriating self, silently encouraging me to do something with her. What he expects me to do when in front of the entire family, I do not know.

After the meal, I offered to escort her back to her chambers, which she accepted. And once we were alone, she thanked me for the flowers!

It was going unusually well. That is, until I decided to open my mouth. I only meant to compliment her, as she did look quite beautiful, but… I just kept talking. And then I had suddenly insulted her gown from yesterday and her robe.

She closed herself off from me then, shoving away my arm. Why could I not just shut up? I know my words are the source of so many of our misunderstandings, yet I keep talking! At this point, I am strongly considering a vow of silence.

‘Please don’t take a vow of silence!’ you wrote, scrambling for your diary as if it mattered how quickly you got the words down. ‘Your voice is far too lovely for me to never hear it again.’

Tomorrow, I am going to try a suggestion from Lord Wylde. Show her that I am not a failure in everything I do. I pray it works.

You turned the page, expecting to find the entry for the next day, but there was none. There had been a page between the entries for the 28th and the 30th, but it had been sloppily torn out. All that remained was the beginnings of the date in the upper corner.

It was entirely against what you knew of Aemond. The man who had dutifully started his journal on the first day of the year and began each entry on a new page would not do something like this.

What had upset him so? Had you said something to him?

No, of course not. The only time you had seen him that day was in the training yard, and you hadn’t spoken to each other, not after… not after he stormed off. Had he actually been hurt in his fight with the Kingsguard? Or was he just embarrassed that you had witnessed him fall?

Gods, how you wished you had gone to him that night. But perhaps you could make up for it now.

‘After you were absent for dinner,’ you wrote to him in your diary, ‘I almost came to your rooms. I was worried for you. Though I confess, that was the only reason I found myself walking toward you… I missed you, at dinner. I missed you helping me into my chair. I missed your smile. I missed the way you’d hold the plates for me. Most of all, I missed your voice, and your presence next to me.’

You sniffled slightly, staring at a lamp on your wall to dry the tears that were forming before finishing the entry, ‘I’ve missed you these past days, as well. But I’m almost done. I’ll see you soon.’

The 30th day in the 5th moon of the year

I have made my gravest sin yet. And my most foolish.

We had the perfect morning together in the gardens. Silent, mostly, but perfect. She smiled at me! She allowed me to lead her through the gardens on my arm. It was… precisely what I had hoped for.

Until I once again acted like an absolute fucking fool.

Before I had to leave for court, I asked if I could come to her rooms that night. And for one perfect moment, I really believed she was going to say yes.

But then she mentioned her moon’s blood, and I just… panicked. I am not entirely an idiot (though I become less sure of that declaration with each passing moment), I know what that means.

It means that I’ve failed her. In even more ways than I knew.

I have made her miserable. I have made her cry. I have failed in every duty of a good husband, including the most basic of tasks – I have not given her a child.

I cannot go on like this – trapped in an endless cycle of misery where I can do nothing but hurt the both of us. I must do something to free us from this.

It doesn’t matter if she doesn’t love or even like me. I just want her to be happy. If that means that I never get to see her or love her again, I will make myself accept that.

First, she needs to know why I’ve acted this way. To know my true feelings so she can decide what she wants me to do. Gods, if she wanted me to go to Essos and never return, I would.

A blot of ink covered half the page, as though he had simply set his pen down while he thought.

I know what to do. I just pray she understands.

“I understand,” you said aloud, as though Aemond were before you. But, of course, he wasn’t. He was halfway across the castle, a distance that suddenly felt like the Narrow Sea itself. Throwing down your blanket, you shouted for your maids to dress you at once, your morning meal be damned. The moment finished tying off the last lace of your gown, you ran.

You had only been shown where Aemond’s chambers were once – on your first tour of the Holdfast. Then, you did not know whether to be disappointed or thankful that they were far from yours. Now, as your nervousness flooded through every part of your body, you hated the distance more than anything.

Each step was an effort, as with every one, your legs felt heavier and heavier, as if they were made of iron. Your blood felt as though it was rushing dangerously fast, carrying with it a marked chill. Despite feeling frozen within, sweat still somehow beaded at your brow. Yet you could not wipe it away, for your hands were all but stitched to the two diaries you carried.

Was this a terrible idea? Would Aemond laugh at you for all your silly little notes? Would he be angry with you for taking days to fulfil his request? You came to a halt in the middle of the corridor, tears prickling in your eyes as you considered so many horrible possibilities.

No, you thought, the word echoed by the impact of your foot on stone as you took a heavy, sure step forward.

The Aemond you thought you knew would do those things. But that Aemond wasn’t real – and never was. He had only ever lived in your terrified imagination.

The real Aemond was the one who had been so awestruck upon first seeing you that he could not say anything other than your name. Who had fallen for you so quickly and with such intensity that he forgot how to act like a proper person and instead stumbled over his words and actions like a drunk man through a crowded alley. Who had been so desperate for you to return his affections that he swallowed his pride to seek help. And who had finally given you his diary when he could think of no other way to show you how he really felt and who he truly was.

It was the thought of finally meeting that Aemond that made you put one foot in front of the other, faster and faster, until you were sprinting down the halls, only stopping when you came to the door you had seen only once before – his door.

You did not understand how you had found it again after only seeing it only once before. Nor did you remember knocking on the smooth, dark wood.

But then you heard footsteps approaching.

Hastily, you transferred the diaries to one hand and wiped the sweat from your brow with the sleeve of the other. You wanted to straighten your hair, for it had surely come loose from its braid after running so fast. But there was no time for that.

There was the dull, metallic sound of the door being unlatched, and then there he was.

Aemond stood before you, breathing heavily himself as though he, too, had been running. His silver hair was mussed, and there were smudges of purple beneath his widened eyes – his eyes.

He was not wearing his eyepatch.

Your mouth fell open at the sight. At least one of the rumours had been true. Beneath the raised, rough skin of his scar, in place of his lost eye, was a brilliant blue sapphire. It suited him perfectly and was perhaps the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

He looked at you for a moment, the corners of his mouth lifting in a hesitant smile before realising what had caught your attention so thoroughly.

“Oh gods,” he whispered, covering the sapphire with his hands and turning away. He took a few steps into the room before speaking again. “I did not mean for you to see this. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. Please…”

You said nothing. Silently, you moved into the room and shut the door. Aemond stared at you, his good eye watering as you approached him.

“I’m so sorry,” he said again. “You should not have had to – ” He startled when you brought your free hand up to his wrist and started trying to tug his hand away from his face. “What are you…?”

When your only response was to continue tugging, he relented, allowing you to lower his hand. He swallowed thickly, fixing his good eye on the wall behind you instead of at you. Seeing his shyness, and now knowing it for what it was, almost made you smile.

But your own shyness took hold of you as you guided his hand down and wrapped it around the spines of the twin journals you held. When you looked back up at Aemond, he was staring at them and the green ribbon that now marked a page within your diary.

“I don’t understand,” he breathed, tightening his hold on the books.

With a slight smirk, you gazed up at him and dropped your hand from the diaries. “It’s your turn.”

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