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caffeinewitchcraft · 20 days

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The Hero and Hope (part 3/5)

(part 1) (part 2)

Summary: You've been adopted before. That's why you know better than to hope for another chance, especially a second chance with the Bahrs

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It’s not that you don’t want to be adopted. You just know that you’re not going to be. You’re the oldest in the orphanage, barely three years away from aging out. People don’t adopt kids your age, especially not obstinate, mean ones like you.

Besides, you’re a Hero. As soon as you master your power, you’ll be compelled to leave and fight evil anyway. That’s why it doesn’t matter if the Bahrs want you or not. You’re not somebody that’s supposed to have a family.

You barely remember the first time you were adopted. That was back when the Director of the orphanage was mean and biting. You have a vague memory of gold exchanging hands and leaving in the middle of the night. Your new parents barely looked at you and didn’t call you by your name at all.

You don’t remember a lot of that time. You were five and it was a struggle to go from living with a dozen kids to no one at all. Your new family gave you your own room in their small house and told you not to get underfoot.

The first time you ran away from their house, you didn’t get far. The baker in town brought you back to them and warned them about how kids your age are always slipping out when not paid enough attention.

“If you do it again,” the person who paid for you said, “you’re going straight back to the orphanage.”

And you do.

--------.

The day of the picnic, every kid wakes up early without being told.

You watch as Hera fusses over all the younger ones, straightening new shirts and brushing dust off knees. Josiah is reading one of the newest books Mrs. Bahr – Marie – brought, biting the skin on the side of his thumb. You snag Hera as she races to find Annie some ribbon for her hair.

“Hold up, let me brush your hair first,” you say.

Hera frantically pats the braids she slept in. “I forgot about my hair!” She turns large, watery eyes on you. “Islaaaa!”

You snort and help her unwind each braid. She decides to leave it down, charmed by the waves the braids left in her hair. Your hands don’t shake as you work even though your heart is racing. Today is the day of the picnic.

Today might be the day the Bahrs pick one of you to adopt. The younger kids don’t know that, the information carefully hidden from them, but Hera knows. Director Sarah knows. You know.

It’s been a long time since you felt this sort of anxiety. The second time you were adopted was just before the Winter and it wasn’t bad at first. The couple who adopted you ran an inn in town. It was exciting to have your own room and your new mother wanted you to call her Mom right away. Six-years-old and you were so excited just to be able to call someone your parent. This time you were going to listen. You weren’t going to run away or complain if their house felt too big and too lonely. This time you were going to get it right.

You didn’t think about what they wanted from you in exchange.

It wasn’t until the second week when they found out you weren’t really much use for anything that things started getting bad.

You breathe in through your nose and proclaim Hera’s hair finished. She thanks you and races off to find Annie, determined to put the ribbon she picked in the younger girl’s hair.

The Bahrs aren’t like the innkeepers. Whoever they adopt won’t be expected to know how to read or do math or how to take care of horses. If they are required to then Marie and Ivan will teach them first. Both have spent enough time at the orphanage for you to believe that. Isn’t it Marie who’s teaching all of you your letters? Wasn’t it Ivan who taught you how to better put up a fence?

Whoever they choose will be fine, you think. It’s both a relief and a sting. Whoever they choose will be fine. It’s just probably not going to be you. Not when Annie is so sweet and social and Hera is so strong and kind. Not when Josiah works so hard to soak up everything they have to teach him.

“Is everyone ready?” Director Sarah asks. She’s standing by the door. Her clothes are nicer than usual too, a dress made of a light blue fabric you’ve never seen before. Her hair is carefully combed back into an updo and fastened with a tie Hera made for her last winter. She runs a critical eye over all of you. “You all look very nice. Josiah, tie your shoes, please. Annie, leave the slate in your room, what you do if you lost it? Honestly…”

You let Director Sarah fuss over the kids, slipping out the door ahead of everyone. You don’t own a dress, but the button-down shirt is new and starched. Director Sarah helped you embroider bluebells on the collar and sleeves, and you think it turned out well.

You may not be getting adopted today, but you’re excited to see the Bahr family’s estate. The sun is warm overhead, the sky an endless blue. The summer is mild this year, perfect for a party. Isn’t that what Mr. Bahr – Ivan – told you to think of it as? A party. No strings attached.

A wagon comes up the lane. The Bahr family’s home is too far for the younger kids to walk to, past the town and closer to the Lord’s manor. They said they’d send a wagon for all of you, but something still clenches in your chest when you actually see it. Wagons are an expense the orphanage can’t justify, but, apparently, the Bahrs can.

The driver smiles kindly when he pulls up next to you. “Everyone ready to go?”

Before you can answer, the kids are pouring out the front door, chattering excitedly. You help Director Sarah lift the smaller ones into the seats near the front. The wagon is open topped, so Director Sarah can look over everyone sternly, twisting around in her spot next to the driver.

“No playing during the ride,” she instructs. “Mr. Dallen is very kindly driving us so you must listen to him, alright?”

Mr. Dallen also turns around. “I don’t have too many rules,” he says. He pretends to think, scratching his thick beard. He grins “Don’t fall out!”

He’s joking, but that’s why you’re stationed at the back of the wagon. From your seat, you’ll be able to stop any roughhousing before “falling out” becomes a real danger. Already you’re eyeing the way Josiah is fidgeting. He’s incredibly calm when he’s reading, but otherwise he’s like a tornado. There’s a reason he’s the one that fell into the well in the first place. Hera sits primly next to him, her hands folded in her lap. You can tell she’s watching him from the corner of her eye. There’s a reason she’s the one who pulled Josiah out of the well.

Mr. Dallen directs the horses away from the orphanage, through the orchard, and along the road cutting through the fields. When you’re going to the forest to hunt, you take the narrower path that winds through the orchard and more directly into the tree line. The wagon is forced to stay on the wider road where the horses won’t sink into any mud and the wagon wheels won’t catch on rocks or dense foliage.

After the fields is the town. The kids wave to every Villager and Blacksmith they see. “Good day!” “Morning!” “We’re going to a picnic!” Hera pulls Annie back from the edge of the wagon before she tips over onto the street.

You slouch in your seat, wishing you were wearing a hat. While the first family who adopted you left town ages ago to live in the Capital, the innkeepers are still around. You don’t look as you pass their business and try not to listen to Josiah carefully sounding out the name of their inn.

When you open your eyes, Director Sarah is looking at you. You okay? She mouths. She wasn’t at the orphanage for your first adoption, but she was there for the innkeepers. You feign going to sleep. Just tired. She pretends to believe you and turns back to continue chatting with Mr. Dallen.

The kids are excited to go through the forest. Many of them are too young to even go into town with Director Sarah, a privilege you earn at ten years old, and they point to every bird, deer and mushroom they see amongst the trees. You let the sound of nature and the kids’ chatter lull you into a sort of meditation. The estate is only thirty minutes away now that you’re out of town.

You’re nearly dropping off to sleep when Director Sarah’s voice changes in pitch. Your sensitive hearing can pick up a thread of concern in her voice. What makes Director Sarah concerned, makes you concerned.

“—demons in the woods,” Sarah is saying very quietly. She glances out of her peripherals towards the back to make sure no kids are listening. If she notices how you’re only pretending to sleep, she doesn’t show any sign of it. “Shouldn’t we ask the kids to be quiet?”

“The Lord’s Knights have been patrolling,” Mr. Dallen says equally quietly. You can see him scan the trees for a moment before he smiles reassuringly at Director Sarah. “We’ll be okay so long as we stick to the road.”

“Alright.”

You keep a closer eye on the surrounding forest.

“There! There it is!”

Annie’s shout drags you attention from a (suspiciously) shadowed gully. The woods have thinned enough that hedges of the Bahrs’ estate can be seen. You’ve only been out this far once, a long, long time ago. You’ve never been past this point.

You’re just as surprised as the rest of the kids when the hedges give way to a castle.

That’s not a manor. You’ve never seen either, but you’re sure of this. Manors are supposed to look like the orphanage or any of the buildings in town, just larger. The Bahrs’ home has towers. The front doors are three times the height of a regular one and you can see that the handles and knockers are made of copper. The stone isn’t white like the castles in picture books, but it’s clean and neatly cut.

“Wow,” Hera breathes.

You agree.

Mr. Dallen directs the horses right up the main driveway, cheerfully explaining that the roses are the flower of the estate, aren’t they beautiful? Even Hera can only manage a faint noise of agreement, eyes wide on the house.

“The party’s around back,” Mr. Dallen says cheerfully. He clicks his tongue and the horses stop just short of the front doors. “I’ll take you there.”

Around back. You expect him to lead you around the side of the castle, past rows of rose bushes and the fountains that are tucked between the hedges. Instead, Mr. Dallen opens the front doors without knocking and directs everyone to follow him.

You’ve never seen anywhere so grand. The kids follow Mr. Dallen in hushed awe, gaping at the marble staircase that bisects the foyer. There are two chandeliers to either side of the grand staircase that each send a spray of rainbow light across the walls. Is the manor a little bare? The walls empty of portraits and artwork? You eye a pair of crossed axes hanging just beyond the shadow of the staircase.

“They’re ordering portraits from the Capital,” Mr. Dallen says, gesturing carelessly to the space where a portrait of the homeowners might hang. Then under his breath, “Unless they hang more swords there instead.”

“Excuse me?” Hera asks.

“Nothing,” Mr. Dallen says cheerfully. He guides them past the staircase and a row of doors to the back of the house. The large doors at the back of the house are already open. Mr. Dallen cups a hand over his mouth and calls, “Ho ho, look here! Look who’s arrived!”

“Surprise!” Ivan shouts, throwing his hands up in the air. He’s standing on the stone patio just outside the house, but he’s not the only one. Mrs. Bahr is next to him, her hands clasped in front of her, beaming. Behind her is a dozen other adults. “It’s a party!”

“Welcome,” Mrs. Bahr says warmly. She’s dressed elegantly in a long, red tunic that’s embroidered with the Lord’s crest. The Lord is here as well, his golden hair and eyes unmistakable even amongst the crowd. “Welcome to our home.”

You’re already at the back of the group, but you hang back further as the younger kids cautiously step out into the sun. Your eyes flick from face to face. You recognize a few of the people. There’s the Baker from town and her wife, there’s the Merchant that comes through every third week, there’s the Villager that donates zucchini—

And there are the innkeepers who, once upon a time, told you to call them your parents. They’re older than you remember, light hair gone silver in the sun, but it’s them. They’re right by the Lord, eagerly waiting near him for the opportunity to talk.

It’s very clear what this is. You watch the kids stream out onto the patio to greet Ivan and Marie. The other adults study the kids like zoo animals, eyes flicking to their clean party outfits to their happy faces. This isn’t a party for the kids. It’s a party for them. They’re showing off to each other. Look at how great they are! They’re helping out the poor orphan kids! You’re very familiar with these sort of events from back when the other Director was in charge. You just didn’t think you’d ever have to be near one again.

You take a step back and are stopped by Director Sarah.

“It’s okay, Isla,” Director Sarah murmurs. You didn’t even notice her falling back to your side. Her hand is gentle on your elbow. “It’s not what you think.”

Not what you think? You watch the Villager who runs the general store ask Josiah about the book he’s reading. The Bahrs are proudly introducing Annie and Hera to the Lord. There is something different about it, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. All you can see is the way the adults are watching the kids. You breathe in through your nose like Ivan taught you. In. Out. “What is it?”

“Fixing my mistake,” Director Sarah says.

That gets your attention. Your eyes dart from the happy scene in front of you to Sarah and back again. With the white umbrellas over the food tables, the streamers strung between garden trellises, and the kids dressed in their best, it looks like a painting. In contract, Sarah’s lips are pursed and the shadows of the house make her appear more tired than she is.

“There’s a parlor,” Mr. Dallen says. You jump when he speaks and he grimaces apologetically. He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “If you need to talk.”

Marie is looking over the heads of the kids to where you’re standing, a frown on her face. She mouths your name, concern in her eyes. Your jaw clenches when the Merchant steps in front of her, hiding you from view.

“Yeah,” you say. “Let’s talk.” You spin on your heel.

Sarah follows you silently. You feel wrong-footed and caged by the entire situation. This was supposed to be a picnic, wasn’t it? No strings attached? Your dress shirt is tight around your neck and you flick open the top button.

“I should have told you,” Sarah says as soon as the door closes. There are two couches in the room adjacent to a large window that overlooks the party. Neither of you sits down. Sarah folds her hands in front of her skirts. “I apologize.”

“What are they doing here?” you ask. You gesture to the window. “The Lord, I understand. He’s the Lord. But the Baker? The Merchant?” You bark a laugh. “They’re not here to adopt anyone.”

“Maybe not,” Sarah says evenly, “but they’re good connections to have.”

“Connections?” You scoff. You remember watching the empty road through that winter nearly seven years ago. “What good are their connections?”

“Annie loves baking,” Sarah says. She doesn’t flinch in the face of your anger. She watches you calmly and doesn’t so much as shift her weight when you start to pace. “The Baker is a good connection for her to have, even if she doesn’t want to adopt. Many of the shopkeepers in town are open to taking on apprentices.”

You falter. You didn’t think about that. Your eyes drift towards the window. You can hear Hera laughing and Josiah complaining good naturedly. You’re nearly 15, just a few years away from aging out. You can’t say you’ve never thought about the future before. “They said they’d be willing to do that?”

“Who knows what the future holds?” Sarah sighs and goes to take a seat on the sofa. She makes a sound low in her throat when she sits. “That wagon ride was not good for my back.”

“I don’t trust them,” you say. You stop pacing to sit opposite her. From this point in the room, you can see the party on the patio. They can also see you. Ivan doesn’t turn away from the dessert table, but you can sense his attention on you. You swallow. “We don’t need anything from them.”

“I agree,” Sarah says.

You blink. “What?”

Sarah laughs. It’s not her usual laugh that she shows the kids, gentle and fond and warm. It’s cold and a little sharp. You’ve only heard it once before when the snow finally melted, chasing the snow spirits away, and the town came to see what had become of the orphanage.

“You and I are a lot alike,” Sarah says. Her eyes drift somewhere distant. “Like you, I remember that Winter. I remember waiting for any sort of response to our pleas. I remember hearing nothing back. The helplessness I felt as our stores dwindled…” Her voice cracks. She shakes herself, swallowing hard. “Well. I don’t need to tell you what their lack of aid cost us.”

It takes you two tries to speak. Director Sarah feels the same way as you. “So why?”

“Why did I agree to the party?”

“Yes.”

“Because I need to forgive, not forget, if I want to fix my mistake,” Sarah says. Her lips thin. “I’m not perfect. Since I’ve been Director of the orphanage, there hasn’t been a single new hire. There have been no volunteers or extracurricular programs for the kids. I’ve kept us hidden.”

“You’ve kept us protected,” you say. Things under Director Sarah have always been better than what they were before. The kids are happier and brighter, and the pantry is always full. No one disappears in the middle of the night or dies under her watch. “We know you have.”

“I’ve tried,” Sarah says. She opens her hands, palms facing the ceiling. “I rebuilt the orphanage to be independent. I thought that if we were completely self-sustaining, we’d be alright. But in doing so I’ve hurt the children. The orphanage is not supposed to be forever. They need connections with people, with the town, for when they grow up.”

“That—” You don’t know what you’re going to say. You fall silent, your anger fizzling out in your chest. She’s right. As much as you want everyone to stay together, you know that can’t happen. What Sarah is saying isn’t wrong, but… “Today is supposed to be for the kids. Not for them to feel better about themselves helping the orphans.”

“The kids are having fun,” Sarah says. There’s a peal of laughter from outside as if to underscore her words. She smiles as she stands. “Kids includes you too, you know. Let me worry about the adults.”

You stand too. You know the conversation is coming to a close and that, soon, you’ll be expected to go out there with Sarah. “Um…”

“Yes?”

You nearly don’t say it. But the way Sarah is waiting for you to speak is so patient that you muster up the courage. “The innkeepers are here. They aren’t…?”

Again, you’re not sure what you’re about to say. There’s a sick fear in your stomach that they’re here to tell the Bahrs all about how awful you were when you with them. Maybe they’re looking for another kid to demand too much of. Maybe they’re here because, in the end, you didn’t mean anything to them and what happened between you and them doesn’t make a difference--

Even if you don’t know what you’re going to say, Sarah must. Her smile darkens. “I’ll take care of the adults,” she repeats. She smooths her hand over your hair when you follow her to the door. “Why don’t you stay in here for a moment? I’ll just have a word with the innkeepers.”

You wait in the parlor while Sarah joins the party. You twist your hands together to keep from picking at the embroidery on your sleeves. You almost want to stop Sarah from talking to the innkeepers. It was so long ago, before the Winter, it shouldn’t matter anymore. You’re being ridiculous to be so worried about them when there are bigger things going on. You—

Hera throws open the door to the parlor. Her braids are a little frizzy already and there’s a flush high on her cheeks. “Isla! We’re playing team tag and you’re the only one fast enough to catch Marie. Come on!”

You don’t have the option to say no. Hera yanks you by the sleeve out onto the patio. The guests are much more dispersed now, pockets of adults around this table or that. They’re not studying the kids now. They’re just watching them as they run to and fro across the lawn, bemused smiles on their faces.

Ivan cheers when he sees you. Like Hera, his face is bright red. “Isla!” he pants. “You’re on my team!”

Marie sprints past, her skirts hiked up to her knee. She runs as if she’s in full armor, strides long and shoulders square. You wonder if she notices no one is chasing her anymore. “It won’t be enough!” she cries.

Josiah is laying on the grass. He chucks his fist in the air. “Go, Marie! Go!” He gasps for breath. “We’re unstoppable.”

“You’re out,” Annie tells him crossly. She’s also laying flat on her back, but seems to be faring better in the breathing department. “You’ve stopped.”

“Shut it—”

You scan the crowd. You don’t see the innkeepers anywhere, not even near where the Lord is sitting. You look over your shoulder back towards the house just in time to see Director Sarah disappearing around the corner. She’s talking to someone just ahead of her. Is she escorting the innkeepers out?

“Isla?” Hera slips her hand in yours. Her eyes are knowing. “You okay?”

You clear your throat, aware of all the eyes on you. You tuck some hair that’s escaped her braid behind her ear. “Just trying to decide which team I should join.”

Ivan cries out in dismay. “Isla, please!”

Grinning, you join the game.

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(part 1) (part 2)

Thanks for reading! If you'd like to read the conclusion of Isla's tale before next week, please consider supporting me on Patreon (X)!

Up this week is a continuation of my Cinderella Retelling, Cinderella Doesn't Believe in Fairytales

#my writing #The Hero and Hope #second person

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7s3ven · 5 months

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POPULAR. luke (pjo)

( master list )

IN WHICH… Y/N is tired of being bullied her whole life so she makes a deal with Luke. As long as she does his bidding, he’ll make her popular.

“Beggin' on her knees to be popular. That's her dream, to be popular. Kill anyone to be popular, sell her soul to be popular.”

Warnings : toxic! luke + y/n (but they’re lowkey iconic together), gore, death, manipulation if you squint, dark themes, y/n + luke are both pretty messed up, pretty gruesome near the end, not proof read

A/N : Me when I wanna write toxic one shots to express my feelings but I've been in toxic relationships and writing fluff is how I comfort myself :c

—

Years ago, the young Y/N would’ve scoffed in her face. Maybe even spat at her if she was feeling bratty enough. Why make a deal with Luke? It was like selling your soul to the devil.

Camp Half-Blood loved Luke, adored him even. But under all that courage and glory was a monster. Y/N had seen it first hand when he turned his head for a split second during a duel, his eyes going dark and his lips curling into a cruel sneer.

Nobody except Y/N ever noticed that hidden darkness behind his soft kindness. It wasn’t her fault she made that wretched deal. He approached her first, staring so longingly into her eyes and speaking with a voice so charming that she hung off every word.

The first time he talked to her was when she was eating breakfast, isolated from the rest of her chattering siblings. Ares was her father, which explained all her retrained anger towards the world. She was the lowest of the bunch, never socialising with anyone and avoiding all group activities to the best of her ability.

She was skilled with a spear but did anybody notice? No one did. Except Luke. In a way, he was her saviour in this eat or be eaten world. Y/N was a tough cookie to crack but getting her head shoved into toilets every day could wear down anybody.

Luke wasn’t usually one to take an interest in girls. He had plenty fawning over him for his attention but none of them could catch his eye like Y/N. There was something about her precise aim with the blade of her spear and the way she gulped down her ice cold water without a second thought. Call it creepy, but Luke found solitude in secretly watching Y/N train.

“Y/N.” Was the first thing Luke had ever said to her. She looked up in surprise and Clarisse’s face turned sour at the sight of the Hermes boy. Her beady eyes narrowed as his hand brushed against Y/N’s shoulder.

“You’re pretty good with a spear.” He quietly whispered in Y/N’s ear so none of the other Ares kids could hear him. “If you ever need a sparring partner, I’m right here.”

Y/N lips parted in shock as she watched him slink off towards his own table. Her siblings stared at her in curiosity before turning back do their food, scoffing at her.

Every minute, Y/N would steal small glances at Luke. And every time, he caught her and gave her a knowing smirk. She looked down at her plate after being caught for the fifth time, her cheeks flushing red and turning hot. She no longer felt hungry.

Y/N stood up, scraping the rest of her food into the fire. She felt a presence behind her but she paid no mind to it until they spoke it.

“So, did you think about my offer?” Of course it was Luke. Y/N flinched, almost dropping the porcelain plate into the fire to join her discarded meal.

“Why me?” She asked, her voice nothing but a quiet whisper that barely reached Luke’s ears.

“Why not you?” He replied, cheekily tilting his head.

Y/N could come up with many reasons to that question. She always took Luke as someone who carefully picked who he interacted with, especially when it came to girls.

“May’s prettier.” She said, nodding over to the bright brown-haired girl tucked in the middle of the Aphrodite table.

“Yeah, she’s pretty but you’re prettier.”

“Vivian’s smarter.”

Luke glanced at the Athena girl with not much interest, shrugging. “Not my type.” Vivian’s was everybody type with her sharp-witted mouth and perfectly cut bob.

“Why are you talking to me, Luke?” After a while, Y/N cut straight to the chase. She furrowed her brows in confusion, a little uneasy with how close Luke was and how girls were glancing over at her.

“I’ve seen you fight.” Luke continued to avoid her questions, much to her annoyance. “Like I said, I’d be happy to be your sparring partner. Today, five pm. Does that work for you?”

Y/N stared at him, hesitating for a moment before she slowly nodded. “Yeah… I’ll see you then.” She briefly smiled before rushing off, dumping her plate somewhere else.

Luke wasn’t expecting much when he showed up at the arena, holding his newly sharpened sword. He figured that if Y/N didn’t end up coming then he could at least get some solo practice in.

But no, she was sitting on a bench inside the arena, fiddling with her spear. She lifted her head, her eyes locking with Luke’s.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise. I didn’t know you’d actually show up.” He dropped his sword in front of her, grinning.

Y/N shrugged. “It… seemed rude not to.” She muttered, looking down at the ground around.

“I’ll be honest, Y/N. I didn’t just want to spar with you. I’ve come to make you a deal. I’ve noticed that a particular someone keeps shoving your head into a toilet.” Luke smirked when he saw Y/N stiffen. He crouched down in front of her, “What if I told you… that I could make it all go away? Just like that.”

He snapped his fingers.

“I can make you popular, Y/N. So popular that no one, not even Clarisse, will mess with you again.”

Y/N gave Luke that same narrowed glare that Clarisse often sent his way. “What’s the catch?” She asked, causing Luke to chuckle.

“Smart. The catch isn’t that big. All you have to do is whatever I tell you to.”

Y/N’s eyebrows raised slightly as she finally made eye contact with Luke again. He charmingly smiled at her. She thickly gulped, weighing out all her options in her head. She could reject his offer and be the victim of relentless bullying… or she could accept and never get hit by Clarisse again.

Luke frowned at her hesitation. “The choice is your’s.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered to look at everything but him. She slowly nodded. “Okay.” She whispered. “Okay. I’ll do it. Deal.”

It started off small. Steal someone from Clarisse, easy enough. Y/N was almost as cunning as Hermes himself, which slightly impressed Luke. He gave her a nod of approval after she dropped Clarisse’s beloved spear in front of him. As promised, he stopped the bullying, but in a way Y/N never expected.

After yet another failed game of capture the flag, Y/N was walking towards the large crowd of demigods when Luke abruptly picked her up and kissed her. Dating or even being around Luke Castellan was guaranteed to make you popular and Y/N had somehow been roped into it without her knowledge.

Her tasks weren’t too difficult until Luke told her to do the unthinkable. To pick a target and violently murder them as a warning to the camp that bad things were coming.

“Luke… you know I can’t.” She muttered as she hid behind the Hermes cabin with him. She was clutching onto his arm, begging him to give her another task. Luke stared down at her in annoyance.

He rolled his eyes, slightly sneering. “Come on. It’s easy. I’ll even show you.” Y/N peered at him through her lashes, looking like a deer in headlights. But she couldn’t say no. She could never say no to Luke when he had his lips pressed so firmly against her’s and when his fingers traced delicate circles around her waist as he lifted her shirt.

After that short conversation, Y/N’s nights consisted of sneaking out to meet Luke. He taught her how to wield an ax, how to knock someone out, and even explained how to dismember a body. Clearly, he had studied these dark topics.

Y/N lay on the forest floor, staring up at the stars. Luke was nearby, his arm lazily slung around her waist and pulling her closer towards him.

“We have to be careful.” He whispered in her ear, tucking a strand of her hair away. Y/N knew that if Luke went down, she’d be forced with him and vice versa. He pressed a light kiss to her neck, inhaling the smell of her floral perfume.

Luke had a twisted obsession with the idea of murder. It thrilled him. The vivid image in his mind of blood splattered across the floor and limbs bent at awkward angles made his stomach churn but... it was exciting.

"Luke... what are we doing with our lives?" Y/N muttered, turning to face him. When had everything gone downhill? When did they suddenly turn into borderline murders and sadists? Perhaps Luke was always like this and he infected Y/N with his disease. But if she was willing to do anything to become popular, even drive a knife through someone's heart, then it just showed Luke that she might be as abnormal as him. “Princess,” Luke’s voice was barely a whisper as he handed her a cigarette. He often kept them hidden under his mattress, only taking them out when he needed to destress. He lit the tip for her and watched as she slowly took a drag, blowing out a mouthful of smoke.

The pair stared down at the body in front of them. They weren’t dead, merely knocked out. Outside, the wind was relentless. It smashed against the wooden walls of the abandoned cabin, as if warning Y/N and Luke to stop whatever madness they were about to commit.

BORN IN GRIEF,

“Do you ever think it could have been different if the gods gave a fuck about us?” Y/N asked, tilting her head to the side. She took another drawl from the cigarette before passing it over to Luke. “Would we be less… messed up if they actually cared?”

Luke shrugged. “Maybe. But this is who we are, we can’t change that.”

RAISED IN HATE,

Y/N would never admit it out loud but she and Luke were sick. Sick for even thinking of doing this and suddenly, Y/N’s stomach lurched. A tiny morsel of her personal morals held her back from approaching the body but she was also curious. How long would it take until the demigod before them realised their doom?

HELPLESS TO DEFY THEIR FATE.

They stirred but their eyes never fluttered open. Luke and Y/N exchanged a look before he gestured her forward. She held the wooden handle of the ax tightly, dragging it along the floor as she stepped towards the unconscious body.

Y/N was unusually calm when she lifted the ax, the sharp blade glinting in the moonlight. Suddenly, the demigod awoke with a desperate gasp. They scrambled back at the sight of Y/N.

LET THEM RUN,

“Please, don’t… what have I ever done to you? Don’t kill me! I haven’t even completed a quest or been claimed yet!” The demigod clasped their hands together, begging for sweet mercy. Y/N merely gazed at them, wide-eyed and unmoving.

“I’m afraid she won’t listen to you.” Luke made his presence known. The demigod’s eyes flickered over to him and they let out another gasp. They couldn’t beloved that Luke, the son of Hermes, the heartthrob of Camp Half-Blood was sitting idly on the sidelines while his companion was staring at them like they were an experiment. Simply a hypothesis that needed to be tested.

“She works for me. She’d kill her best friend if I told her to.” Luke gestured for Y/N to continue. The ax was raised above her head, ready to pierce the heart. Y/N swiftly swung the blade down. It buried itself in the demigod’s chest and a drowned-out scream slipped past their lips.

LET THEM LIVE,

Y/N’s eyes shook as she stared at the body in what could only be described as desperation. Desperation to land another sick blow.

Y/N lost count of how many times she raised the ax up and swung it down. All she could think about was the euphoria and giddiness rushing to her head. Blood stained her skin but she didn’t stop until the demigod was nothing but a mangled corpse, unable to be identified just by looking at their gruesome face.

Thunder crashed and lightning flickered. Rain poured down, the gods’ way of expressing their grave disappointment.

BUT DO NOT FORGET WHAT WE CANNOT FORGIVE.

Luke blew out another cloud of smoke, gazing at Y/N with his own twisted version of love. “Red looks good on you.” He uttered, spinning her around like she was in a beautiful ball gown and he was her date to prom.

Y/N laughed, the thrill of killing taking over. Luke’s lips curved into a smile. He had never heard the sound of her laugher before. And he was already intoxicated. Her lips tasted like smoke and tangy metal and he pulled her closer.

THEY ARE NOT ONE OF US, NOT OUR KIND.

PJO TAG LIST : @lostinhisworld @julielightwood @outerbanks-stuff @jennapancake @csifandom @evrybodydies1 @kkrenae @s0ulsniper @annispamz @justanotherkpopstanlol @soraya-09 @simpforeveyone @papichulo120627 @corpsebridenightamare @lilacspider @prettylilsimp @urmomsbananabread @ur-lacol-dsylexic @hottiewifeyyyy @kamiliora @be-bap @finnickodaddy @th0tblckgrl @shoyofroyoyoyo @uniquely-her @imafrkinsimp @syraxesrevenge @ahh-chickens @dracoslovergirl @midnightstar-90 @8812-342 @liv1104 @krkiiz @arialikestea @ch16rles @lizziesliz @maryclx01 @lukecastellandefender @yuminako @coryoskywalker @julielightwood @crybabysbakery @jsbaby @liviessun @p3pperm1nttea @angie-esc @purplerose291 @prettylilsimp @10ava01 @froggiesstalks @happy-jj @czennieszn @gisellesprettylies @loveyava @csifandom @luvvfromme @mashiromochi @kamiliora @yorksyree @mqg125 @jamesmackreideswife @niktwazny303

#luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #hermes pjo #ares pjo #ares percy jackson #percy jackson fanfiction #luke castellan #luke castellan pjo #percy jackson show #pjo tv show #rick riordan #annabeth chase #grover pjo #grover underwood #oneshot idea #hades greek mythology #greek mythology #mythology and folklore

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atlabeth · 5 months

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greener grass | luke castellan

i recommend reading bleedin me dry before this as this is the au to that!

summary: what if you left with luke that day in the woods?

a/n: would just like to give a HUGE thank you for the massive amount of support on my luke fic!! and another huge thank you to all you angst demons because why do you want more of it. i mean i get it but why. anyways here’s a different path of actually accepting luke’s offer like so many of you said you would instantly fold lmao i hope you enjoy

wc: 3.2k

warning(s): fem!daughter of demeter reader. luke is his own warning. kind of unhealthy relationship, weird vibes all around

The stars were brighter than ever tonight.

It was one of the first things that stuck out to you when you got to camp, and it was one of the first things that you noticed when you first got on the road with Luke.

You’d always loved the stars. They were a rare sight coming from the city, such a sign of nature and purity that it honestly shouldn’t have been a surprise when you were claimed. You still remembered the shock that went through you when you first saw what a night sky free of pollution could be, and you still remembered the first time you risked your life with the harpies just to spend the night star-gazing.

And you could never forget the first time you dragged Luke along with you, his wry protests falling on deaf ears though he grinned the entire way down to the beach, his hand laced in yours.

Gods.

Luke.

Even the thought of him these days was enough to make your heart clench, a slight shiver run down your spine, and you weren’t fully sure as to why.

You loved him. You ran away with him. Every path that led you here, you willingly chose to walk down.

But you still questioned every second of every godsdamned day if they were the right decisions. Especially now, as you sat alone in front of the fire, carefully stoking it with one of the few dry sticks you’d been able to find after taking shelter—in your own haphazard tent made of vines and tree trunks and any other bits of nature you’d managed to sprout from the ground with your powers—to wait out a rainstorm.

You decided to spend the night, deciding that traveling through the darkness was too risky after the last monster attack, but the minutes couldn’t have been creeping by slower. If being in nature didn’t quite literally fuel you, you knew you would be far more miserable than you already were.

You loved Luke with all your heart, and if he was willing to potentially throw off his entire plan just so he could bring you with him, then he had to love you the same. You owed him this, at least, to not abandon him.

You— you didn’t want to serve Kronos, but you didn’t want to serve the gods, either. Your mother abandoned you before you were old enough to know what the word meant, leaving you on your father’s doorstep swaddled in blankets and with a note that he still had to this day.

Demeter left your father to raise you on his own, left you to live the half-life of a half-blood, and hardly paid attention to you since. She didn’t help you when you were on the road to camp with your satyr, wondering if every bump in the night would be your end, and she let you feel worthless for an entire year before she finally decided you were deserving of her claim.

Or maybe she just finally remembered you existed.

You understood Luke’s anger—you felt it yourself more than you liked to admit—but the path he was on was a dangerous one. You doubted you could take him off of it, but you could keep him safe, and you could prevent more damage. That was all you cared about at this point.

How long you could walk this line was an entirely different question.

You sensed him before you heard him even lost in your thoughts, but the snapping of twigs still made your breath catch for a moment. You kept your gaze on the fire as you spoke.

“Anything?”

“These woods are surprisingly bare for the time of year,” Luke said as he set his backpack on the ground, kneeling down to rifle through it. “I feel like Artemis is punishing me.”

“Well, she doesn’t exactly have a reason to help you,” you said wryly. You gestured with your head towards the miniature orchard you’d been making at each one of your camps—one pro of your parentage was that you—hopefully—wouldn’t ever starve on the road. You’d been growing plants since you realized you could, so it was practically second nature at this point. “Fruit’s on the menu, if you’re interested.”

Luke chuckled as he walked over, and as he plucked a perfectly ripe strawberry, he glanced at you. “Feeling nostalgic?”

You shrugged. You wondered which of your siblings would be in charge of the strawberries with you gone. You hoped Mr. D wouldn’t give it to one of his kids. “Do you blame me?”

“Not at all.” He popped it into his mouth then took an apple from the smallest tree you’d been able to grow. “It was home for us both, for a while.”

You bit your lip. It still was your home—it had been for the past four years. You wanted to go back eventually, but you felt like you had sealed your coffin by going with Luke. Would they ever welcome you back, knowing you willingly followed him into the darkness?

“How long do you think we’ll be on the road?” you asked, finally looking over at him as he sat down across from you. “Not that I don’t enjoy being with you, but… it’s not exactly the safest.”

“At least another week or two,” Luke said. You tried your hardest to keep your expression even as he settled the full force of his gaze on you—you couldn’t deal with the scrutiny. “I need to make sure they’ve lost our trail. The last thing we need is a questing group on our asses.”

You huffed a laugh. “You think they’ll actually send anyone after us?”

Luke shrugged. “If all went well, camp is in total disarray. If it didn’t, they still know I’m with Kronos. I can’t imagine Chiron would take that lightly. And,” he inclined his head, “I did kidnap you.”

You scoffed. “You didn’t kidnap me.”

“They’ll probably think so,” he said, and there was something strange in his eyes. “Doesn’t make sense for you to come with me willingly.”

This again. “Luke—”

“I know,” he said, a slight smile on his lips. There wasn’t much heart in it. “You don’t have to explain yourself again.”

“I just don’t want you to think I’m not with you,” you said. “I— I am. I’m only here for you, Luke.”

His eyes softened. “You mean it?”

“I do,” you nodded. “I couldn’t just leave you.”

“I don’t take any of this lightly, you know.” His eyes never wavered from yours, the orange light flickering across his face and casting a devilish shadow. “You being here means the world. Nothing’s gonna happen to you—I’ll make sure of it.”

“I’m not just gonna lay you out to dry, either,” you said wryly. “We’ll protect each other. Like we always have.”

“Exactly,” Luke affirmed. He bit into the apple he’d seemingly forgot about, and you looked up at the sky in the resulting silence.

It felt like your mind always drifted back to camp, back to your siblings and friends and the victims of Luke’s crusade.

Your summer siblings who would come back next year and wonder where you went, your year-rounders waking up the next morning and all the mornings after with a discontented glance at your bed.

How long would it take for them to forget you? For you to just be another lost demigod in the camp files?

And poor Annabeth Chase. Luke practically raised her, and he walked out on her without a word—you considered yourself lucky he didn’t do the same to you, and you had no idea what awaited you on your path together.

The gods had never been one for listening, and certainly not to you, but you hoped at least one of them would look down on you. Maybe your mother could provide some of that wizened second child advice, shine her favor on you for the first time in your life.

Well. You doubted Demeter would very much appreciate your quasi-support of the titan that ate her. The thing you should have considered yourself lucky for was that your powers still worked.

Luke brought you back to Earth by saying your name, and your gaze snapped back down to meet his. His scar seemed especially grisly in the firelight, at odds with the softness of his expression—something that felt all too rare these days.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked.

“What else could possibly be on it?” you asked wryly, tossing the stick you’d been fiddling with into the fire. It crackled as the flames devoured it, something so out of its realm thrust into it anyways.

“Stupid question,” he admitted.

“We’re practically fugitives, Luke,” you said. “We have monsters after us, and possibly people from camp. We left everyone behind. I’m with you, trust me, but— but I can’t just get over it all as easily as you.”

“And I get that,” he said. “This—” he sighed and shook his head— “you really don’t know how much you being here means to me. I thought I was going to be out on my own on all this.”

Your throat bobbed. You’d never tell him, but you didn’t even know what your answer was going to be until the words left your mouth.

“And you’re telling me that you’d still choose them over me?”

“No,” you said. “I wouldn’t.”

Luke’s eyes softened and your throat felt like it was closing up.

“Then come with me,” he whispered. “We will change the world together.”

“I can’t,” you asserted. “I can’t just leave everyone behind— I’d be leaving my entire life behind, Luke!”

“You’ll help them more this way,” Luke insisted. “The gods aren’t on our side—we’re here so they don’t have to pay attention to us. If we want anything to change for the better, we’re gonna have to do it ourselves.”

You bit your lip, and he brushed a strand of hair out of your face.

“I wouldn’t ask you this if I didn’t think you were right for it,” he murmured, tilting his head as he gazed into your eyes. “Your mother’s never bothered to see you before. I’m gonna make her see you.”

“How?” you asked, hating the hints of desperation coloring your voice.

“You’ll see,” he said. “But we’re gonna do something so big that no one’s going to be able to ignore us.”

Memories of the past four years flashed through your mind, but the two at the forefront were ones with Luke and ones without your mother.

He’d always been there for you, even when Demeter—especially when she wasn’t.

You couldn’t just leave him on his own. Not when he was baring his soul to you—not when his quest for greatness included it for you too.

Not when he was the first boy you ever loved, the one who brought you back from the god-induced edge.

“…Okay,” you said, the word feeling like an ultimatum the moment it left your lips. “Okay. I’ll go with you.”

He stared at you for a second like he didn’t hear you, or rather like he didn’t actually believe it. And then he broke out into a grin.

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” you said. “Have I ever lied to you?”

“Go to your cabin and pack your bags,” Luke said, still unable to control his exuberant expression. We’ll meet each other at the top of the hill.”

“Right now?”

Luke nodded. “Only a couple hours until we’re harpy feed. Everyone’ll think we’re just leaving for the school year.”

“You’ve always been a year-rounder,” you said. “Won’t people—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “No one’ll think anything of it. We just have to get out before anyone asks any questions.”

“Luke,” you murmured, “are you—”

Luke cut you off with a blazing kiss, the same kind of fire in his eyes when he pulled away, a slight smile on his lips at leaving you breathless.

“I’m sure,” he whispered. “You’re not going to regret this. I promise.”

It was all you could do to stare up at him, his grip on your arms the only thing keeping you upright for a solid moment.

“Go,” he said. “Take your time—don’t draw any suspicion. I’ll meet you there.”

“You’re really sure?” you asked, finally able to form words. “Really really sure? About this, a— and me?”

He cupped your cheek, tracing his thumb along your jaw. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life than I am about you.”

Leaving camp was insane—when Luke told you of Kronos’s plans, it was even more insane—but it had always been you and Luke. He’d been such a huge part of your life, ever since you first came to camp, that you couldn’t imagine yourself without him.

And when you looked back at him, illuminated by the fire, you were sure of at least one thing.

You weren’t leaving any time soon. Not when you could still fix all of this.

A yawn got the better of you, and you felt Luke’s eyes on you as you covered your mouth with a fist.

“You should get to sleep,” he said. “It’s been a long day.”

“It’s been a long day for both of us,” you said. “We both had to get here—and you were the one who wandered around in the woods for two hours trying to hunt.”

“How do you know I wandered?” Luke asked, setting the apple core down on the ground next to him. “You weren’t there. Maybe I had a very respectable saunter and just came up with nothing.”

You chuckled. “The trees speak to me.”

“Really?” he asked, clearly amused. “And what did they say?”

“That you’re an awful hunter,” you mused, “and you should be very thankful that your girlfriend is good at everything.”

Luke smirked and got up to start walking towards you. “Your ever-knowledgeable trees should know that I already know.” He kneeled down in front of you, a slight smile curling on your lips. “And that I am very thankful.”

He pressed a heated kiss to your lips, and you reciprocated, looping an arm around him to keep him close before you pulled away.

“It’s always good to hear it,” you murmured.

“I’ll say it as many times as you need,” he assured. Luke stole another kiss then gestured towards your makeshift tent. “But you do need to get some sleep. We’re picking up at first light.”

Your smile wavered. “We’ve been moving break-neck for a week already. Are you sure we can’t ease up?”

“Soon,” Luke promised. “I told you, I just want to make sure we’ve lost any tails. We can’t afford that right now.”

He must have seen the change in your expression, because his eyes softened and he took your hand. “It won’t be like this forever, babe. You can handle it.”

“It doesn’t mean I want to,” you said dryly, but you sighed as you squeezed his hand. “I’ll turn in if you do too.”

“Anything for you,” Luke said with a smile. You chuckled and shook your head as you stood up, and Luke grabbed his backpack before he went over to the tent with you.

Your meager belongings weren’t much. You’d stuffed all the demigod essentials, some outfits, and a sleeping bag in your pack before hightailing it to Thalia’s tree, and Luke hadn’t packed much more—but at least it was light traveling.

Every night had been spent in the same way, sharing your sleeping bag as you got what precious sleep Luke allocated before you were back on the road again. You were sure the only thing that got you through each early rising was his soft touches and easy murmured words.

You laid down, staring up at the roof of brambles and bark, and you twisted your hand just so to make them twist away from each other for a small opening.

Luke raised an eyebrow at you as he zipped his bag up, still crouched on the ground. “What’s that for?”

You shrugged. “I’ve always liked sleeping under the stars.”

Again, that small smile. It could still make you melt, even now. “I remember. I just hope it doesn’t start raining again.”

“Like rain’ll be the worst thing we’ve dealt with,” you said wryly. “Besides, I can feel it in the air. We’re gonna be fine.”

“Yeah,” he said. “We are.”

You glanced over and he was looking at you. You patted the spot next to you.

“C’mon,” you said. “I’m cold.”

“Oh, we can’t have that,” he said, amused, and he huddled in next to you. You let out a contented sigh as his body heat sunk into you, and he draped an arm across you to pull you closer.

“That better?” he asked.

You hummed in response. “Thank you.”

“Always.”

You closed your eyes as you exhaled deeply, trying your best to unwind the tension in every part of your body. You weren’t used to trekking miles every day, eating rations you’d packed from camp or gas station food from whenever you ended up close to town, only having the woods and the sky and Luke for company. It was starting to wear on you, but you weren’t going to let Luke know.

“I love you,” Luke said suddenly, breaking the silence, his breath tickling your neck. Your eyes snapped open. “You know that, right?”

A moment passed before you murmured, “I know.”

You could feel some of the tension leave his body, and he adjusted his position to be closer to you.

“Good.”

His curls brushed against your skin as he rested his head in the crook of your neck. Luke was a comforting presence behind you, like an anchor in the choppy waters you’d thrown yourself into, but it… it just felt different than the countless other times.

But that was only natural. You were back on the road, living the way you did when you first made the trip to Camp Half-blood with your satyr. Of course it felt different than the crowded chaos of the Hermes cabin, or the beach underneath a tapestry of stars, or your own bed at the behest of your siblings. The only thing that stayed the same was the scent of nature, and the scent of Luke.

Things were different, yes, but you knew that would happen. Luke was different, but you knew that would happen—half the reason you came along with him was because you wanted to make sure he had a lifeline, a way to come back to shore when he decided his crusade was over.

Because it had to be over eventually. He would decide that there was no way you could beat the gods, that it wasn’t worth killing himself over some meaningless mission. The gods had never cared about you before—you didn’t know why they would care about some half-baked rebellion by two of their least favorite kids.

You loved Luke. He loved you. You told yourself that was all that mattered, because you were in this together now.

For better or for worse.

#damn girl you really are a demeter kid the way you're planting these seeds of distrust #also he hasn't told her what he did to percy so this is clearly a very stable and good situation for both of them #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan angst #pjo x reader #x reader #sadie writes

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ashdreams2023 · 1 month

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Hiii, could I request a severus snape and little sister reader where she's the opposite of him and so all the students love her until someone insults him one day and she's all snarky and a miniature version of snape and everyone's like ".....maybe they are alike....." while severus looks on like a proud parent??? I love your fics so much!! Thankss!!

The same tree

Severus snape x professor sister reader

The student body was in shambles the day you were announced as a new staff member, the name snape was enough to send shivers down some students backs.

They barely handled one snape, let alone two!

Everyone expected the worst, 2.0 snape female version then you got to your first class, it wasn’t like anything they had in mind.

Heck you gave house points and they paid attention to the lessons.

"She’s human, oh my god she’s not evil!"

It spread pretty quickly how nice and patient you were, you didn’t show any favoritism towards anyone nor did you encourage any rivalry in your class, as long as they passed it was a win for you.

Your office hours were filled with students coming to you for help, some even asking for help of topics other than what you teach, sometimes asking about stories of your youth but none dared to ask about your brother.

But there were times were kids can get way too comfortable in matters that have no business with them, unfortunately for a certain fourth year Ravenclaw he learned his lesson the hard way.

"I can’t believe that git took points because I added a point to his lesson! It’s fucking ridiculous, he’s a selfish idiot who only wants his way and everyone else is wrong"

"Jesus calm down mate, it’s only ten points you’ll live and he’s like the professor so…"

The Ravenclaw rolled his eyes "I know the book, I read it piece to piece I know my way around this stuff, he’s just one bitter old son of a bitch-"

"Excuse me you little bird" the boy froze as he felt a hand touching his shoulder, he looked up to meet your piercing dark eyes, they had the dangerously familiar feeling to those of their potion master.

"Professor i-"

"No no no…go on, continue what you were about to say so the oh so great Ravenclaw knows everything, because what? Because you read an outdated, basic, dusty ass potion book"

The boy swallowed, your tone was so different, you weren’t smiling and it reminded him of being schooled by severus snape himself.

"Why so quiet? Snake got your tongue?" You smiled proudly at the look of terror on the boy’s face "Let this be a lesson to you little bird, my brother is no idiot and without him little airheads and know it alls would be dead by now, so know your place, am I understood?" You tightened your grip on his shoulder.

"Yes ma’m!"

"And 30 points from Ravenclaw for showing disrespect to faculty staff members"

The boy’s jaw dropped but didn’t dear argue back and sprinted away with his friends, you couldn’t care less that students were watching, they call all spread rumors or whatever.

"Oh my god…she is like him…"

"Shush she’s gonna hear you! At least now we know not to overstep it"

You sighed and left the great hall, you pumped into your brother by the end of the day, he arched an eyebrow at you when you causally sat down and sipped your tea.

"I see you’ve made quite the impression today"

You shrugged "They’re just stupid kids, it was about time they learn anyways"

Severus leaned back on his armchair "You sound awfully familiar to me, I suppose I am rubbing off on you"

"The apples may look different but they all belong to the same tree" you smirked.

"You’re still terrible at potions though" He remarked knowing well how atrocious you were at his best interest.

"Hey! I was defending your honor"

You glared at him and he glared back then after a few seconds of intense looks you two snorted at each other and went back to having your regular sitting for the day.

Thank you for your kind words and glad you do 🥰

#imagine #pro severus snape #severus snape x y/n #platonic severus snape x reader #severus snape fanfiction #severussnape #harry potter requests #severus snape headcanon #severus x reader #severus snape x you #severus snape x reader #severus #severus snape #snapedom #pro severus

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lemoncrushh · 8 months

Text

Dressing For Revenge

Summary: Still heartbroken from finding your ex cheating on you, you go to a nightclub with your friend Kelsie, where not only do you run into your ex, but also a handsome gentleman who's willing to help you get over him.

Warnings: dirty talk, oral sex (female receiving), angry sex (consensual), MUST BE 18+ TO READ

Word Count: 8.6k

Based on this request.

A/N: This is my first new fic of my rebrand. I hope you enjoy! Please be kind. FEEDBACK IS LOVE.

“God, you look hot, Y/N.”

You smirked at your reflection in the mirror and at your friend Kelsie who sat on your bed behind you.

“Not bad, huh?” you wiggled your brows as your hands swept down your hips, accentuating the slim shape of the dress and your hourglass silhouette.

“I mean, I’d fuck you.”

You chuckled. “Thanks, Kelse.”

“That is the look you’re going for, right?” your friend asked. “The get me drunk and fuck me senseless look? Or is it the look but you can’t touch idea?”

“Hmm, I guess we’ll see,” you smirked.

“Huh?” Kelsie rose from the bed as you grabbed your handbag and strutted towards the front door. “What does that mean?”

“It means…it depends on who I run into.”

“Not Luke.”

You grimaced at the mention of his name. “Fuck no!” you yelled before quickly masking your disdain for your ex with a sweet smile. “But who knows who else will be there tonight.”

“There’s the Y/N I know,” Kelsie beamed, following you out to the awaiting Uber.

Nightclubs weren't really your scene. At least they hadn't been until you'd met Luke. He was rich and liked to flaunt it. His mission was always to see and be seen. So whether it was a Hollywood party or the loudest disco, he knew where the action was and always made an appearance. When he started taking you to clubs and parties, you weren't sure it was your thing. While you liked the personal attention he gave you and the money he spent on you, you didn't much enjoy watching other girls falling all over him. Especially drunk girls.

But you had to admit, even now, you had gotten used to jetset the lifestyle a bit. You'd come to know some great people, Kelsie included, because of the nightlife you'd shared with your ex.

Which unfortunately was the exact reason he was now your ex. Because of his lifestyle.

You could still smell the weed and whiskey that hung in the air that night you'd found him in the guest room at that party in Malibu with that little tramp. She'd barely been legal, for fuck sake, but that was beside the point. Up until then, you’d had your suspicions that Luke was cheating on you. Hell, he’d flirt with girls right in front of you. But every night he’d take you home and make you feel like the Queen of the World, and all your doubts managed to fizzle away like the bubbles in the champagne he’d paid for earlier.

That dreadful night, however, your suspicions had been confirmed in plain sight, the harsh reality stinging your eyes with the tears that it brought. Luke had begged for forgiveness later, swearing on his grandmother’s grave (who was still alive, by the way) that he would never do it again and that he loved only you. You’d told him you needed time to think about it, but it only took two days to find out from a mutual friend that he’d been out with another woman at yet another nightclub.

So stepping past security into this club was already starting to make you have second thoughts and leave a bitter taste in your mouth. But when Kelsie grabbed your arm and pulled you to the bar, you remembered the reason why you came.

Confiding in Kelsie, you promised you were ready to move on and have a nice girls’ night out. You let her believe it was her idea to get as dolled up as you had. And you did appreciate the little persuasion she’d provided. But truth be told, you would have gone out tonight with or without her. Perhaps moving on wasn’t the correct term for it, but one thing was for certain. You needed to get laid…badly.

Kelsie ordered you both cocktails from the bar while you kept your eyes peeled for contenders. You locked eyes with a handsome Latino who gave you a smile. You smiled back.

Possibly… you thought to yourself.

“Here you go, Y/N,” you heard Kelsie say as she handed you a glass.

“Thanks,” you muttered, quickly taking a long sip through the little straw.

“So how’s the turn out?” she grinned, turning to face the rest of the club alongside you.

“Not bad,” you chuckled. “Not great either. But the night is still young.”

“Hmm, someone’s eyeing you at two o’clock.”

Gazing over the crowd, you caught sight of the guy Kelsie was referring to. Eh. He was okay, but nothing to flip over. He definitely fell into the look but you can’t touch category. If he came by the bar, you’d let him buy you a drink, but that was it.

“Good evening ladies,” you heard a voice say from the other side of Kelsie. It was the Latin Lover. “What are we drinking tonight?”

“Nothing fancy,” Kelsie grinned, crossing one leg over the other as she batted her lashes. “Just rum and Coke.”

“Ah, a Cuba Libra!” the handsome man beamed, placing his hand on his chest. “You know, that’s where I’m from.”

“Cuba? No way!”

“Okay…it’s where my father’s from,” he held up his free hand and nodded sheepishly. “But I am still proud of my heritage.”

Kelsie giggled as the man leaned against the bar and introduced himself to her. You took this as your cue. The unspoken word to back off and let your friend take the lead. No harm done. You hadn’t begun to make the rounds yet.

“Going to the ladies’,” you leaned over and whispered to Kelsie. She gave a nod of acknowledgement as you slid off your stool.

As you made your way toward the back of the club, a handful of men caught your eye. You held your head high and winked when needed, flipping your hair off your bare shoulder.

And that’s when you saw him. He wore the jacket you’d bought him for Christmas, his ever present whiskey glass in his hand, a long legged twig of a girl attached to his hip as he chatted with a group of people.

Stopping in your tracks, you felt your hands form fists at your sides, the bile rising in your throat. Then taking a deep breath, you tried to think of the best way to get around Luke and his group in order to get to the bathroom without him seeing you.

Zig-zagging through the crowd, you just about made it to the other side of Luke’s clique when you heard your name and felt a hand around your wrist. Your automatic reaction was to turn toward him, your brain instantly cursing you for it. With your lips pursed, you scowled at him.

“You look amazing,” he said. As if you didn’t know.

“Hmph,” you grunted.

“How are you?” he asked as he stepped closer, his other hand grazing your hip. But you quickly stepped back, realizing he was trying to pull you in. Releasing your arm from his hold, you rolled your eyes. The nerve of this guy!

“As if you care.”

“What do you mean, Y/N?” he pleaded, his blue eyes giving you the look that used to make you melt. But you knew all his tricks now. “Of course I care. I’ve always cared about you.”

“Seriously?”

You were ready to slap him when the woman next to him turned around, sliding her bony hand up his arm.

“Baby, who is this?” she cooed.

“Oh, this is-”

“Nobody,” you interrupted, standing up straight. Then you turned swiftly, heading for the restrooms with determination.

Tears threatened to fall from your eyes, blurring your vision as you scrambled to get to your destination, ready to hide in a stall until your composure was contained. Suddenly, you felt a body slam into your chest, nearly knocking the air out of your lungs.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry!” you heard a voice declare as two hands grabbed hold of your upper arms to steady you. “Are you okay?”

“Huh? Fuck,” you stumbled, shaking your head. Getting a clearer image of the man who ran into you, you didn’t bother to exchange niceties. “Yeah. Watch where the fuck you’re going, asshole!”

You only stayed long enough to see the shocked look on his face before running toward the ladies’ room. Slamming into the door with your palms, you found an empty stall and locked yourself inside. Taking deep breaths, you counted to ten like your therapist had taught you to do.

Motherfucking Luke! Why did he have to be here? Of all the clubs in L.A. You’d known there had been a slight chance he would be at this club. You had gone to it a couple times with him before. But he also frequented others. Why this club? Why tonight?

Inhaling a jagged breath, you shook your head. No! You were not going to let one stupid prick ruin your night just because you happened to run into him. No matter how rich or good looking he was. No matter how good in bed he was.

Ugh…you sighed as you slid down the wall. You missed it. The sex. It had been amazing, delicious. Luke could make you come like…

Shut up, Y/N!

There’s other men who could make you feel just as good, if not better. And you had already taken a gander at some prospects tonight.

Washing your hands at the sink and doing your best to touch up your face, you took another deep breath and made your way back to the club. The loud music hit you in the face as your heels clicked along the floor, setting the tone for the rest of the evening. You spotted Kelsie on the dance floor with Mr. Cuba Libra and decided it was time to find yourself someone to dance with, or at least buy you a drink. You didn’t even bother to look in Luke’s direction, and instead decided to head back to the bar.

You saw his back first, a dark maroon jacket covering his broad shoulders. But it was the curls on the nape of his neck that caught your attention, the way they whispered against his collar so delicately. And when he turned his head slightly to talk to the person next to him, you knew for certain it was the man you’d bumped into earlier.

You watched him lift a highball glass to his lips, taking a swig. The rings on his fingers made you swoon inwardly, a secret turn-on of yours. When he turned away again, you decided it was time to bite the bullet. With your tail between your legs, you sauntered up to the stranger and poked him in the back. He turned inquisitively, immediately raising his eyebrows when he noticed it was you.

“I believe…” you paused to clear your throat. “I owe you an apology.”

You watched the man’s face soften, his full lips making a perfect circle before he said, “Oh.”

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you and called you an asshole.”

Giving a shrug, he slid off his stool and stood to face you.

“It’s alright. Sometimes I am one.”

You caught the corner of his mouth twitching before it grew into a smirk, pushing his cheek until a deep dimple appeared. Automatically, you smiled, feeling a weakness in your knees. Holy shit.

Getting your bearings, you blinked. “Anyway, just wanted to say I’m sorry. I wasn’t…feeling well.”

“I reckoned it was something like that. I saw you run for the toilets.”

Sheepishly looking down at your hands, you nodded. “Yeah. I was…in a hurry, and you ran into me. But I shouldn’t have been so rude.”

“Apology accepted,” he grinned wider, holding out his hand. “I’m Harry.”

“Y/N,” you replied, shaking his warm, ringed hand.

Then the jerk had the nerve to cover your hand with his other one as he leaned forward and looked you in the eyes. “Are you feeling better now, Y/N?”

You immediately felt like syrup was oozing down your body at the way he said your name.

“Kinda,” you teased. “But I’d feel much better with a drink.”

If you hadn’t already, the moment Harry smiled the biggest smile yet, his eyes twinkling as he guided you back to the bar, you decided you’d let him do more than buy you a drink. You’d let him try to make you come tonight.

The music was loud enough to send each pulse and vibration running through your veins. And the liquor Harry had offered you added to the sensation, making you feel weightless and on top of the world. But most of all, the feeling of his body against your back as you both swayed and grinded sent you to a hypnotic state of bliss.

“Who’s that?” you suddenly heard Harry whisper in your ear.

“Huh? Who?”

“That bloke you’ve had your eye on since we stepped onto the dance floor.”

“I don’t-” you choked, “know what you’re talking about.”

“Y/N,” Harry said, turning you around to face him. Clipping your chin with his finger, he forced you to look at him. “I’m pretty observant. You may be dancing with me but your gaze is glued to that man in the grey jacket over there. Now, either you really fancy him, or it’s someone you know.”

“I’m sorry,” you lowered your eyes, embarrassed and a little ashamed that he noticed. “It’s my ex.”

“Ah.”

“I’m not…I mean…I don’t want him back or anything. If that’s what you’re thinking. I didn’t know he was going to be here,” you confessed.

“That wasn’t what I was thinking,” said Harry. “But thanks for telling me.”

“I’m sorry I was looking over at him,” you continued, pressing your hands against his chest. You felt relief when he didn’t object. “It’s over between us…it’s just…”

“Still a little raw?” Harry finished.

“Yeah.”

“I get it. I just got over a breakup, too.”

“Really?”

“Well, it’s been a couple months, but yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” you frowned.

Harry’s mouth curved into a smile. “Stop saying that. You didn’t do anything. I was just curious.”

“Still…it was rude of me,” you returned the smile. “Here I am dancing with this incredibly attractive guy…”

“Who?” Harry playfully feigned stupidity, looking around him. When you giggled, he grinned wider, his dimples dipping in his cheeks. You blushed. “Oh, you mean me?”

“Who’s also a charmer,” you added.

“C’mere,” he instructed, pulling you against his body again, his hands sliding down your hips. “I know you don’t know me, Y/N. But I can show you a good time and make you forget about whatshisname. Even if just for one night.”

Your eyes twinkled with lust as you gazed into his green ones. You imagined kissing his full lips, his mustache tickling you, his stubble scratching deliciously against your skin. In a moment of excitement, you lifted your hand to touch it, your fingers grazing across his jaw.

“I’d like that. Very much,” you purred.

Slowly, Harry leaned down, and with his fingertips digging deeper into your hips, he covered your mouth with his. He tasted of whiskey, but not like Luke used to. This was sweeter, with a hint of cherries. Wanting to explore his mouth further, you slid your hands up his shoulders and fingered the wisps of hair on his neck as he allowed you access to his tongue. You swore you felt him groan as he pulled you even closer.

While the beat still pulsed around you, you found a particular pulse of your own, racing through your veins like a newly lit fire that you’d thought had long died out. As Harry continued to seduce your mouth with his tongue, your fingertips found his chest once again where you slid your palm inside his shirt and ran it across his bare chest. The touch seemed to ignite something in Harry too, and you felt him chuckle against your lips before he pulled away, grabbing your wrists.

“You’re gonna make me strip you right here and have my way with you, baby,” he growled.

His hungry eyes told you he could very well do just that. Lifting his gaze, however, his smirk fell as he looked past you.

“Hmm, looks like the tables have turned.”

“What?” you asked.

Cocking his head, he gestured behind you. Turning slightly, you caught Luke glaring at you. His jaw was set, his eyes narrowed. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he didn’t approve of your sexy little display with Harry, or might even feel a tinge of jealousy.

Hmmph, you shrugged off the notion. Luke had never shown any sign of jealousy as long as you’d known him. Still, it made you a little excited to know he was keeping tabs on you.

“I’ll be damned,” you heard Harry chuckle. “I’d say he’s a wee bit unhappy, Y/N.”

“Serves him right,” you let the words slip.

“I’m gonna guess he was the possessive type.”

“Actually, no,” you replied. “In public he barely acted like he knew me. I’d find him flirting with every other woman in the room.”

“But he still expected you to be with him, right?” Harry asked.

“Yeah…”

“While he could do whatever he wanted.”

You furrowed your brows, finally understanding Harry’s point. “Yeah!”

“He didn’t deserve you,” Harry said, his voice low but loud enough for you to hear. “Didn’t appreciate you.”

“Probably not,” you sighed, your hips still swaying as Harry held you close.

“Definitely not,” he retorted, lifting his right hand to slide it under your ear. "Come home with me, Y/N. Make him really jealous. Make him realize what he's missing."

You snorted in disbelief as your fingertips tickled the back of his hand. “I doubt he’d even notice if I left with you.”

“I beg to differ,” said Harry. “The way his eyes are shooting daggers at me right now says otherwise.”

“I don’t like to use people, Harry,” you claimed.

He threw his head back laughing, and you could feel the vibration in his chest against your own.

“Seriously, Y/N? Isn’t that why you’re here? Why we’re all here? Regardless of whether or not your ex had shown up at this club tonight, wasn’t your intention to get back at him? To find someone to help you forget?”

“Well…yeah…kinda,” you stammered.

“And wouldn’t I just be perfect to help in that regard?”

You felt your face flush as you looked into his eyes. He was absolutely right. Your goal had been to get back at Luke tonight, if only to prove to yourself that you didn’t need him. And Harry was so sexy and willing…

“Yes,” you heard yourself say.

You followed Harry to the bar where he paid his tab, walking right past Luke and his group. Though you dared not turn your head to look at him, you could somehow feel his gaze on you.

“Ready?” Harry asked, stuffing his wallet into his pocket.

“You have no idea how ready I am,” you teased.

Harry didn’t miss your tone. He pulled you close once again, planting a wet kiss on your lips, right there for everyone, especially Luke, to see. When your mouths separated, you licked your lips seductively.

“And you have no idea how badly I want to touch you right here, right now,” Harry murmured in your ear. “Let’s go.”

As soon as Harry grabbed your hand, you heard your name being called. You turned to see Luke incredulously glaring at you.

“You can’t be serious!” he shouted.

“Excuse me?”

“This prick? You’re leaving with him?”

“What’s it to you?” you shouted back. “I don’t belong to you anymore, remember?”

“I fucked up, Y/N! I thought you were forgiving me!”

“You thought wrong!” you chuckled. Then you looked over at the woman you had assumed he was with. “Does she know you’re a cheater? Or have you been lying to her like you did to me?”

“Y/N,” you heard Harry say, tugging on your hand. “He’s not worth your time, baby.”

“Naw, see…” Luke yelled, clenching his jaw as he stepped forward. “You don’t get to call her that. She’s not yours!”

“She is tonight, mate.”

While the idea of being anyone’s possession was usually appalling, the way Harry said that made your legs weak. And the fact that he hadn’t let go of your hand yet made you feel safe.

“You fucking-”

“Luke, man!” someone called out. You watched as two of his friends held him back and told him to calm down.

“C’mon, Y/N,” whispered Harry before he pulled you through the crowd and out the front door to the valet where he stopped and looked at you. “Are you okay?”

“No, but I will be,” you replied as he pushed your hair from your face.

“I can just take you home if you’d like. We don’t have to-”

“No. I want to.”

“You sure?”

You merely nodded before grabbing his jacket and pulling him into another deep kiss. You felt him moan against your lips, reigniting the fire in your core. A black car pulled up to the curb then as you released him.

“I need to feel you tonight, Harry,” you whined. “Please.”

“Anything you want, baby,” he sighed before guiding you to his car.

You felt a little sleazy and a twinge of guilt for leaving Kelsie at the club. But when you texted her in Harry’s car, she swore she was fine and having the time of her life with her Cuban guy. She also gave both you and Harry kudos for not falling into Luke’s trap and letting a full fight break out. Though she hadn’t seen exactly what happened, she had heard a commotion and then caught the seething look on Luke’s face when she headed for the bathroom.

“Everything alright?” Harry asked when he stopped at a red light.

“Um…yeah…” You turned off your phone and looked up at him. “Just fine.”

“Good,” he grinned, gently placing his hand on your knee. “My place is just up here.”

You tried your best to not gawk at the stately home as Harry turned into the circular driveway. Shit, even Luke’s house wasn’t this extravagant. You smiled over at Harry as he killed the engine and stared at you.

“Still wanna come in?” he smirked.

“Mmhmm,” you nodded, biting your lip and squeezing your thighs together at his choice of words.

Harry chuckled low, shaking his head. You thought he was going to add to the spice that sizzled in the air, but instead he opened his car door. He was already at your side before you barely had your legs out. He helped you out of the car, sliding his arm around your waist, and he stared into your eyes as he slammed the door shut behind you.

Harry’s house was gorgeous to say the least. When you stepped into the foyer, you immediately noticed the grand staircase, a large statue and a painting above the mantel that was no doubt an original.

“Can I get you a drink?” he offered. “Scotch or a glass of wine?”

“Actually…” you blushed, “I could really go for some water. My throat feels dry.”

“No problem,” he grinned. “Kitchen’s this way.”

You followed Harry through the living room where he peeled off his jacket and laid it across the back of a chair. As he rolled up a shirt sleeve with one hand, you saw him grab a remote with the other which set the fireplace aglow. Damn!

Turning the corner into the kitchen, you watched as Harry opened what looked like a large pantry but turned out to be the refrigerator.

“Well!” you gasped, unable to hold in your amazement any longer. “Looks like you’re doing pretty well for yourself.”

That low chuckle that you’d already come to adore rose from his chest and dimples appeared in his cheeks as he set two bottles of sparkling water on the counter. Then he surprised you further by not only getting down two glasses from the cabinet, but then filling them with ice and pouring the water over it.

“I do alright, I reckon.”

He handed you a glass and you took a generous sip before lowering it. “So what do you do?”

“I’m in real estate.”

“Okayyyy… No surprise there,” you commented as you gestured around the area. “I suppose that’s how you scored this gorgeous mansion?”

Harry laughed, nearly spitting his water. “It’s not a mansion.”

“Yeah, it is. Fuck, you are rich if you can’t tell that.”

“Does that bother you?”

“No! Why would it? Unless…oh my God, you’re not married, are you?”

“No,” Harry snorted.

“Engaged? Separated? Newly divorced with an ex wife you owe a ton of alimony to?”

“No,” Harry laughed harder. Then he set his glass on the counter and placed his hands on your arms. “Y/N, I promise, I’m none of those things.”

“Then…how? Why?”

“Why am I still single?”

You nodded first before managing to squeak out a yes.

“Same reason you are,” he replied softly, his hands sliding up your shoulders and finding your jaw.

��What do you mean?”

“I was with the wrong person. And it took me a long time to realize.”

Harry’s words hung in the air as you tried to conjure up your own, to no avail. Instead you stared at his lips, now hydrated from the water, as his thumbs ran across your cheeks.

“Was she a cheater, too?” you finally asked.

Harry blinked his eyes softly. “Yeah.”

Who the hell would cheat on you? is what you wanted to say. Instead, you said, “Fuck them.”

“Yeah.”

Tilting his head, Harry captured your lips with his, sending a wave of desire down to your toes. Your fingers found the buttons of his shirt, and you hastily began to unfasten them. When you reached the waistband of his trousers, Harry tugged the hem of his shirt and removed it completely, tossing it on the floor. Then with your mouths still intertwined, he lifted you up and set you on the kitchen counter. Sliding his hands up your thighs, he grinned against your lips.

“I’ve been dying to get this fucking little dress off of you all night.”

“Yeah? How do you wanna do it?” you purred, leaning back and sticking your tits out.

“Hmm. Part of me wants to just tear it off right here,” he said, his sultry eyes burning into yours. “But the other part of me wants to take you upstairs and do it slowly. So slowly you can hardly stand it. Taking my time with you, kissing you, licking you, peeling your dress off inch by inch until you’re writhing and whimpering my name.”

“Mmm, I like the second one,” you breathed.

“Who says you get a vote, hmm?” Harry raised a brow.

“Oh.”

Your mouth remained in the O shape as Harry continued to run his hands up your legs and under your dress. You scooted closer to him on the counter, as much as you possibly could without slipping off. Harry quickly understood your intent, pushing himself between your legs, his hands finding their way to your ass where he squeezed.

“So what’s it gonna be?” you inquired, just before Harry lowered his head and kissed the exposed skin at the top of your breast. You gasped at the sudden touch, his lips moist and cool from the iced water.

Allowing Harry to take his time answering, you watched his sensual mouth caress your chest as you felt yourself get wetter and wetter. His fingertips pinched your sensitive skin on your rear until he found the waistband of your thong.

“You’re so fucking hot, Y/N,” he murmured as he pulled the elastic and made it pop against your hip. “You smell like cherry vanilla, and you taste like it too.”

You grinned at him, sliding a perfectly manicured nail down his chest and grabbing hold of his cross necklace.

“You like?”

“Mmm, yes. I wanna taste some more. But I wanna do it upstairs.”

“Lead the way, honey,” you beamed.

Seven thousand tiny nerves in your body were set afire as you took Harry’s hand and followed him up the enormous staircase. You stole tiny glimpses into each room as he led you to the end of the hall, stopping at a set of double doors that were opened to a stunning master suite.

“I’d show you the rest of the house, but I’d rather get down to business if it’s okay with you,” Harry smirked.

“Of course,” you agreed.

Stepping into the bedroom, you caught sight of the California King sized bed covered in luxurious linens. The entire room had the most intoxicating, manly aroma, like tobacco and patchouli.

“Wow, you certainly don’t scrimp,” you commented.

“I like to think I have good taste,” he said, grabbing your waist.

You chuckled as he pulled you close, goosebumps erupting all over your flesh. You ran your fingers down his chest, tracing his tattoos.

“I like these birds,” you said. “They don’t represent you and your ex do they?”

“No,” Harry shook his head. “I had these long before I ever…y’know. Met her.”

“Ah okay. Good.” And with that, you leaned forward and softly kissed each bird. When you lifted your head, Harry was grinning at you.

“I thought I was the one who was getting a taste.”

“You also said you wanted to take your time. Maybe I’m a little impatient, Harry.”

With a low, sexy laugh, Harry guided you backwards toward the bed. When your back hit the silk duvet, you watched him hover over you, the dim light creating a glow around his chestnut hair. A cluster of clunks sounded as you both kicked off your shoes. You smiled up at Harry, the excitement and anticipation both alluring.

“I am gonna take my time, darling,” he confirmed. “So slow that you’ll be begging me, your sweet pussy throbbing in agony.”

“Oh my God,” you gulped. This was going to be either torture or heaven. Maybe both.

Starting with a soft, sweet kiss, Harry let you get comfortable on the bed. The second kiss was deeper, his tongue sliding into your mouth like a warm, wet snake, eager to meet its mate. You kissed him back, one hand on his neck, the other tangling in his curls. You sighed as you felt his body relax and situate on top of yours, his legs between yours and his hands cradling your head.

You could still taste a twinge of whiskey on his tongue, and that mixed with the incredible fragrance in the room made you light headed. As Harry continued to kiss you, you felt the urge to feel him. Pushing your hips up, you could feel his erection between your legs. But when you slid your hand down his side to get a touch, Harry grabbed your wrist and pinned it down on the bed next to you. You whined in protest, but Harry only resumed his assault on your mouth.

You wondered if you’d ever been kissed this way. Luke certainly never did this. He wasn’t one to skip foreplay, but he definitely liked to move things along. And even in high school when you were still a virgin, guys never concentrated so thoroughly on the kissing part. This was…different. But also incredibly satisfying. Harry was an excellent kisser, to put it mildly.

When he seemed to be content with your lips, Harry moved on to your neck, then your shoulder. Reaching the skinny strap of your dress, he looped his fingers through and pulled it aside. You hitched a breath when he’d pulled both sides down your shoulders and kissed the tops of your breasts again. He held onto your waist as he slid his tongue across your skin. You felt yourself hike your hips up again, needing the friction.

“It zips in the back,” you heard yourself say.

“What, baby?” Harry asked, lifting his head to look at you. One strand of hair had fallen on his forehead. God, he was gorgeous.

“My dress,” you breathed. “There’s a zipper in the back.”

“I know,” he smirked.

You whimpered low, squirming underneath him. “Aren’t you…please?”

“Oh, you’re begging already? I’m not even halfway there yet, love.”

“Jesus,” you gasped.

“What do you need, baby? Tell me.”

“I need you to touch me, Harry.”

“I am touching you.”

“You know what I mean!” you cried.

Harry shook his head and tsked. “I told you I’m taking my time. We’ll get there, babe. Okay?”

You sighed through your nose. “Fine.”

“Are you gonna behave? Or do I need to punish you?” he teased.

“Fuck! Punish me, please! I need to feel you.”

“Ohh!” Harry sat back on his knees and looked at you, one eyebrow raised. “I didn’t know you were a naughty girl.”

“Well, now you do,” you said flatly.

Harry chuckled that sexy way again, making your wetness pool even more in what was left of your pitiful panties.

“I thought you wanted revenge,” Harry stated.

“Revenge for what?”

“Your ex. To prove you’re better off without him.”

“I am,” you agreed.

“Did he kiss you like that?” Harry asked.

You shook your head. “No.”

“Did you like it when I did it?”

Smiling gently, you nodded. “Very much.”

“Don’t you think you deserve to be kissed like that?”

“I…”

“What about touched like this?”

Harry continued, running his palms up your thighs until he reached the hem of your dress. You stared at him when he paused, then slid them further to your panties. You felt him glide his thumb across the center, so softly you almost whined at the lack of friction. But then he repeated the motion, pressing little by little each time.

Your breaths became faster, quickened by each press of his thumb. He didn’t remove his eyes from yours, watching you as you started to shift your hips and let out tiny moans.

“Is that where you wanted to be touched?” Harry inquired.

“Mmm, yes,” you managed to sound between breaths.

“You’re fucking soaked, baby. Perhaps I was wrong with taking my time.”

“I told you.”

The cackle that came from Harry was unexpected, but at least he now understood how ready you were.

“Here I thought I was trying to prove to you what I think you deserve, when what you really need is a good fuck.”

“God yes, please!” you cried.

When Harry chuckled a little more, you suddenly rose up onto your elbows.

“I’m sorry, that didn’t sound right,” you said.

“What do you mean?”

“It sounded selfish. I don’t mean to imply I didn’t like all the other stuff.”

“No, I get it,” Harry shook his head. “And you’re definitely not selfish.”

“No?”

“Not at all. You deserve a good fuck, too.”

You bit your lip. “So do you.”

“Yeah?” Harry crawled up your body, resuming his previous position. This time his cock was even harder, poking you in just the right place.

“Mmmhmm,” you moaned.

Sliding his hands around your waist, Harry reached for the zipper on the back of your dress and pulled it down. A loud breath escaped your throat when he finally slipped it down and over your hips.

“Fuck me!” he exclaimed with a sigh. “Look at you, you gorgeous thing.”

Before you could reply, Harry’s mouth was on your breast, sucking on your nipple. You moaned explicitly at the instant and much needed contact. When he’d given both nipples equal attention, he changed course to your belly, slithering down your body until he situated himself between your thighs.

“I think, kitten…” he cooed, grabbing hold of the sides of your thong, “that these need to go. They’re much too wet to keep wearing.”

You groaned in agreement, letting Harry remove your panties completely.

“I reckon I can help with that too,” he added, placing his palm on your inner thigh before sticking out his tongue and lapping your skin there.

Holy shit! He hadn’t even touched your clit yet and you were already about to explode.

Harry repeated the action on your other thigh before finally…finally centering himself at your pussy. He opened you gently, then so delicately pressed his tongue to your clit. You almost came unglued as he started to move it in various lines and shapes, adding a bit more pressure to each lick.

“God damn, kitten, you do taste good. So delicious.”

As he resumed his oral pleasure on you, you began to pant and moan, grabbing hold of his hair and curling your toes. Fuck, what this man could do with his mouth!

Just when you started to feel the burn in your core and thought you might go over the edge, a finger joined in on the fun, slipping past your juices with ease. You felt an extra tightness in your stomach, your legs trembling next to Harry’s head.

“Oh God! Harry! Baby! So….so good!”

You heard him hum against your pussy, his tongue flickering in the best rhythm, and a second finger slid in with the first.

“Aaaaaaahhhhh!” you cried, grabbing fists of his hair.

Your orgasm thundered through your entire body with Harry still transfixed on your pleasure. It seemed to last for ages, like you couldn’t stop.

“Harry! Oh shit!”

You finally came down after a couple more seconds, your body limp. Harry lifted his head finally, a cheeky grin on his face as he wiped away your juices from his chin. Then he crawled up the bed again to face you. When he leaned in for a kiss, you backed away.

“What…what are you doing?” you asked.

“Um…was gonna kiss you?”

“Oh.”

“Do you not like to taste yourself?”

Biting your lip, you shrugged. “Luke never liked to do that. So I got used to it.”

“Never liked to do what? Eat your pussy or kiss you after?” Harry asked.

“Kiss after. He always made me wash myself off before we kissed or…did anything else.”

Harry frowned and narrowed his eyes. “Fuck that guy. He wouldn’t do that and he was shagging other women?”

“Yeah.”

“Babe,” said Harry as he laid on his side next to you. “I think it’s time you got over him.”

“I am over him,” you declared.

“Really? Seems to me like you’re still pretty scarred from him.”

“Well, I am,” you agreed. “That’s gonna take some time. But I don’t love him anymore. He cheated on me. Do you still love your ex?”

Harry stared at you a moment before saying, “No. But I’m still a little bitter and angry, I admit.”

“Yeah,” you nodded with a scowl. “That’s what I am. I’m so fucking angry.”

“Then that’s what you need to do, Y/N. Let it all out. On me.”

You stared incredulously at Harry. Though his expression was serious, his eyes had a certain softness to them, as though he was silently willing you to let go.

“Come ‘ere,” he whispered, pulling you close against his body.

His mouth covered yours once again, a tender kiss of vulnerability, this time allowing you to take the lead. When your tongues met, you felt him sigh. You cupped his face with your hands, his scruffy jaw sending yet another spark through your veins. This man was so incredibly sexy, and he was wanting you to take advantage of the situation. Let out all of your emotions in a single roll in the hay. Who were you to resist?

“Let me help you with that,” he murmured when your fingers glided down his belly to his belt.

Rising from the bed, Harry hurriedly unbuckled his belt and dropped his pants. You sheepishly examined the massive bulge in his briefs before he removed them as well, stepping out of them and returning to the bed.

“I’m all yours, baby,” he offered. “Show me what you want.”

“Harry…” you breathed, unable to take your eyes off of his beautiful physique and his long, thick cock.

“Fuuuuck.”

The dimples returned as Harry smirked with a nod, placing his arm behind his head. “That’s the idea.”

Words escaping you - not to mention air - you couldn’t decide if you wanted to take him in your mouth or straddle him. You’d never had this much control before. You watched as Harry began to stroke himself, and your mouth began to water. But your pussy began to twitch, too. Damn it.

“This is about you, babe,” Harry voiced. “But don’t take too long to decide.”

As his thumb ran over the tip of his cock, you finally made your decision. Throwing your leg over his waist, you could already feel yourself dripping.

“You wanna ride me, darling?”

“Yes,” you nodded.

“Okay, hold on. Lemme get a condom.”

When Harry retrieved the protection from the bedside drawer, you offered to put it on. Harry watched you, an easy grin on his face. Then you aimed his hard cock at our entrance, taking a deep breath before sliding down slowly.

“Oh, Jesus babe,” Harry groaned, his eyelids fluttering. “Fuck, that feels so good already.”

With a smirk of your own, you began to ride him, taking it easy at first to adjust to his size. He definitely filled you more than Luke had.

You concentrated on Harry’s face as you moved, letting your pussy wetten with each thrust. He reached for your tits, cupping them and then grabbing your nipples. You threw your head back, feeling a moan escape your throat from deep down.

“Fuck, baby,” growled Harry. “You’re a fucking dream, you know that? I can’t believe your man didn’t want this.”

With a jagged breath, you looked back at him, his gorgeous face watching you in awe. It made you feel amazing.

“How dare he cheat on you?,” Harry added. “What was he thinking? Look at you. Riding my cock, taking me so deep and so well.”

“Yeah,” you whined.

“How dare he bury his cock in someone else's pussy when he has this little kitten ready to please his every whim. His every need. You do that, don’t you baby? You like to please your man, hmm?”

“Yes. I do.”

“You like to watch him become captive of your tight, warm pussy til he can’t get enough.”

You moaned, nodding your head.

“It’s not fair, is it kitten?”

“No,” you whimpered.

“You give so much, aiming to please. Only for a man who doesn’t know how good he’s got it.”

“Harry…”

“I know, baby. Tell me how unfair it is. Tell me how angry you are.”

Furrowing your brows, you groaned and sped up the pace, riding Harry faster.

“Fuck yeah, babe. Take it all out on me. All your anger. Fuck me like you hate me.”

“I do.”

“Say it.”

“I hate you.”

The words burned your throat because although they weren’t meant for Harry, you definitely hated Luke. Harry was right. You’d given your ex everything and he hadn’t appreciated it. You let him hurt your feelings in public and then pretended it didn’t matter anymore when his dick was inside you. Fuck that. Fuck him!

As your thrusts quickened, so did your breaths. You moaned louder, though the tiny cries and whimpers were not near enough. Watching Harry as his chest and throat started to get red, his eyelids fluttering from pleasure, you wanted so badly to make him come. But your fury was taking over as well. Your head was spinning with so many thoughts, emotions and desires.

Harry squeezed your ass as he lifted you higher and bucked his hips hard. You cried out in pleasure and pain, reaching for the headboard that was too far away.

“Get up, baby,” Harry suddenly commanded, slapping your ass. “I want you on your knees.”

When you obliged, you made sure you scooted closer to the headboard this time in case you needed to hold on. You felt Harry run his hands up the back of your thighs, his rings chilling your flesh right before he reached underneath and pinched your clit. You cursed again, unable to see straight.

“I know, kitten,” he said. “You’re dripping all over me and my sheets. Do I need to make you come again?”

“Yes. Please.”

Slipping two fingers inside your pussy, Harry quickly pulled them out and put them in his mouth.

“So fucking good, baby.”

Before you could respond, Harry slapped your ass, taking you by surprise. You squealed and looked over your shoulder where he was knelt behind you with a dirty smirk. Shithead.

“Now, my kitten,” he said firmly, “I’m gonna bury my cock in that tight cunt again. And you’re gonna take it just like before. Alright?”

“Yes,” you nodded.

“Only this time I wanna hear everything. Tell me how much you hate me. How fucking good my cock feels, but you can’t stand me. I wanna hear you seething with anger. Got it?”

You nodded again, although you were unsure exactly what he meant. Surely he didn’t want you to pretend he was Luke. Perhaps he wanted you to use the anger to fuel the orgasm.

Before you could think about it further, Harry did as he promised and slammed into your pussy over and over. The sting was so good, you nearly lost your balance, but Harry had a good grip on your waist.

“God, this ass,” he growled, slapping it again.

“Fuck you,” you cried, barely enough for Harry to hear. But he did.

“What was that, love?”

When you didn’t reply, he thrust harder. “Tell me!”

“Fuck you!”

“That’s it,” he acknowledged. “It’s so good, innit?”

“So good, Harry…I can’t…”

“Yes you can. Babe. Tell me you hate me.”

“I hate you,” you muttered.

“No, no. That won’t do,” he argued. You felt him lean forward, his stomach on our back. “I need to hear it. Louder.”

While it did feel so fucking good, your hatred was at its peak. You thought of all the shit you put up with from Luke…why did he hurt you like that? Why had he thought it was okay? What kind of fool did he think you were?

“I hate you!” you shouted, staring ahead at the headboard.

“I know you do,” said Harry, his voice even lower than usual.

Then he moaned, a deep, low, sexy moan that filled your senses. You could tell he was nearing his own climax. Your eyes began to burn as he reached for your clit again. You were so close, the orgasm sitting on the edge of the precipice. Oh God!

“Say it it again!”

With his finger on your cunt and his cock deep, the dam broke and you cried out in both pleasure and pain.

“I hate you! I fucking hate you, Luke!”

Time seemed to freeze as you glared straight ahead. Harry paused his thrusts, but his body still laid on top of yours.

“S-sorry.”

“S’okay, babe.”

“No, I- I didn’t mean to say that,” you croaked, tears spilling from your eyes.

“Hey. It’s okay. I told you to let out all your anger.”

You were silent for a bit, your body trembling as you felt his breaths on your shoulder. You wondered if he was going to move, figured he would after hearing you scream someone else’s name…even if it was tagged with hate.

“I’m…I’m really, sorry, Harry.”

“Baby. Please don’t be sorry. You released what you needed to. It’s okay.”

“O-okay…” you breathed, your throat sore.

“Do you need me to stop?”

“No,” you replied hastily. “You didn’t come yet, did you?”

“No, but it’s alright, I-”

“Harry. Don’t be silly. Keep fucking me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. It…feels amazing. You’re so good.”

You felt his body rise from yours, a slight sweaty stickiness as his chest separated from your back. When he ran his hands down your hips, you heard him moan again.

“You’re amazing too, babe,” he said, breathing heavily with each thrust. “Shit, I’m so close.”

When you felt his balls hit your pussy, you reached underneath and grabbed them, earning a loud groan from Harry.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come,” he proclaimed.

Letting out a deep, guttural moan, Harry thrust a few more times until his body trembled and he let out long, slow breaths onto your back. Cursing again, he fell onto the bed beside you, pulling you against his chest.

Perhaps it was the memories flooding back, perhaps it was the way Harry held you with his sweaty arms that made you unable to breathe, or maybe it was because you’d fucking said your ex’s name as you came, but your eyes darted around the room, trying to decide your escape.

“I um…need to use the restroom,” you declared.

“Oh, sure babe.”

When he released you, you sped for the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. While washing up, you wondered why the hell you’d let this happen. You’d barely gotten over Luke’s hurt only for it to return again. You should have just stayed home tonight.

When you opened the door, Harry was still lying on the bed, naked, his head propped in his hand. Damn it.

“I should go,” you said, grabbing your discarded dress and panties from the floor.

“Why?”

“It’s late.”

“You can stay if you like.”

“No, I…should get home,” you declined.

“Oh. Well, let me get dressed and I’ll drive you,” Harry offered as he rose from the bed.

“Please. It’s fine. I’ll order an Uber.”

“Y/N, that’s ridiculous,” argued Harry. “I can take you.”

He slipped back into his pants, forgoing the briefs, but you were already at the door.

“It’s okay, really,” you insisted, pausing at the top of the stairs. “I just…I’m embarrassed, Harry. I’d really just like to be alone. I hope you understand.”

Making it to the living room where you’d left your bag, you noticed Harry had followed you. You quickly ordered an Uber on the app. When you turned, Harry wore a deep frown.

“Please don’t be embarrassed, Y/N. That was never my intention.”

“I know,” you confirmed, placing a hand on his chest for reassurance. Then you handed him your phone. “Here. Put your number in.”

Harry did as you asked, and when he handed it back, your fingers brushed.

“There, now you have mine,” you gave a tight smile after sending his number a text. When your phone pinged, you jumped. “Oh! There must have been a driver nearby. Goodnight, Harry.”

“It’s here already?”

“Just down the road. I’ll wait outside.”

“Babe,” he sighed.

You gave him a quick kiss, then a second.

“You’re lovely,” you whispered before leaving him standing in the middle of his luxurious living room.

If it had been a cab, you might have cried the whole way home. But seeing as it was an Uber and you were just sitting in the back of some guy’s car, you held the tears in. Stumbling up the stairs as if you were drunk, you tossed your bag on your nightstand and stepped out of your shoes. You’d just pulled on an oversized tee to sleep in when your phone rang in your purse. Seeing Harry’s number shouldn’t have startled you, but it did.

“Just wanted to make sure you got home okay,” he said when you answered.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.”

“Good. I know you wanna be alone, but I just wanted to say I um…I had a really good time with you, Y/N.”

“Me too.”

“I’m sorry I embarrassed you, love. I really am. I was hoping we could both just-”

“Harry,” you interrupted. “It’s okay. You didn’t embarrass me. I did it to myself.”

After a long sigh, Harry spoke again. “Um…listen, if you ever wanna do this again….if you need to get your anger out or you’re stressed or…” he paused with a sigh, “just wanna talk. Whatever…give me a ring.”

“Of course.”

“Take care, Y/N.”

“Harry…”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t hate you.”

“I know.”

“That was just…”

“I know, baby.”

You gave a soft hum of contentment. “Okay then. Goodnight, Harry.”

“Goodnight, kitten.

*dramatic music* What did you think?? Do we need more them? Don't be shy, leave all the comments you want :).

tagging: @kathb59 since you asked :)

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nneteyamss · 5 months

Text

midnight fun

cw: smut! (minors DNI), p in v, oral sex, & little bit of degrading

pairing: billy loomis x reader x stu macher

author's note: this is like... the first smut I wrote a couple months back, brace yourself.

not proofread

| scream masterlist

y/n rested laying stomach down on her bed. a book was in hand as she paid little to no attention to anything but the book. the bedside lamp illuminated the mostly pink room. suddenly a knock was heard on the window which pulled y/n’s attention away from her book. she looked up to be met with none other than one of her boyfriends, billy loomis. she sat the book on the nightstand and gingerly made her way over to the window, careful not to make any noise. Billy stared at her as she opened the window, eyes immediately falling to the attire she was dressed in. y/n though had yet to notice his lingering gazes.

“what’re you doing here?!” y/n whisper yells to billy. it wasn’t uncommon for billy and/or stu to pop up at her house unannounced but never this late without a warning. “missed you baby” he smiled before another voice spoke. “move your ass in man i wanna see my girl too”. y/n peeked out the window and looked down to see her other boyfriend, stu macher, right below billy. “hi there stu” y/n giggled at him and the current situation. “hi princess” he winked before nudging billy to get a move on it.

billy rolled his eyes because of stu and y/n moved over to allow them inside. billy made his was to the chair by her little desk and stu to the edge of her bed. y/n laid back down how she was previously and grabbed her book. her two boyfriends watched her every move, slightly confused for a second. “baby.. what’re you doing?” stu asked after a couple minutes. “reading, which is what i was doing before you guys came.” y/n answered the question without looking up. stu let out a small grunt before leaning back onto the multiple plushies that lined the wall of his girlfriends bed.

the boys both equally love y/n, but in all honesty they did not come to watch her sit and read. billy and stu’s eyes wondered around her body taking in the way her pajamas hugged her shape, y/n completely unaware of how her attire was affecting them. her thighs looking soft and warm, tiny tight white shorts cupping her ass, a thin tight shirt flaunting her boobs when she wasn’t stomach down, and the shirt lifted ever so slightly to show the small of her back. y/n felt the bed dip more, which meant billy had joined stu on her bed. she tried to continue reading but was soon distracted by 2 different large hands placed on her ass, gently squeezing and kneading the flesh. she had tried to ignore them and just continue reading but that became nearly impossible when their hands to started moving lower. her body thinking before her she instinctively spread her legs a little wider, but not wide enough to give them a good view.

stu snickered and gently pulled y/n’s legs further apart. the two boys stare in awe from the sight of her folds imprinted on the fabric of the shorts. y/n squirmed growing wetter by the second now unable to even focus on the words on the page she was reading. “look at our little slut stu, already soaking through her shorts and we’ve barely touched her”. y/n tries to seem unaffected but her mind was currently unraveling. “s-shut up billy” she stuttered as he rubbed her upper inner thigh. she knew she should’ve just kept quiet but her mind wasn’t her own at the moment.

“oh? the slut is giving attitude. i don’t think i like that, d’you stu?” billy looked over at him. “nah billy, i don’t like it one bit. i think we should fix it.” stu smirked squeezing her thigh. they flipped y/n on her back and steadied her legs. “sit up” billy demanded. y/n sat up and crossed her legs in a pretzel form. billy completely stood up from the bed and stu threw his long legs over the side. y/n didn’t dare say a word when billy pulled her up to her feet and turned her to face stu.

billy placed his hands on y/n’s hip “since you don’t know how to keep your mouth shut, we’re gonna have to shut it for you. i want you to bend over, but not get on your knees, and suck stu off baby”. y/n looked up to see stu adjusting his pants just enough to pull his hard-on out. she followed just as billy had told her to do and bent over. she gently grabbed stu’s dick and kitty licked the tip which caused him to groan. as she began to take him in her mouth stu grabbed a fistful of hair and brought her head down further onto him. stu roughly thrusted upward, fucking himself into y/n’s mouth. “shit baby, just like that.” he moaned out as y/n gagged around him.

“i think she likes that stu, she’s fuckin’ soaked.” billy pulled down her shorts and panties in one go. he admired her juices covering her pussy as she spread her legs a little more for him. “fuck. yeah? our slut is so eager to be filled with our cum” stu thrusted again. y/n heard billy’s zipper go down and one of his fingers go between her folds. she moaned around stu’s dick which sent vibrations and result in a loud groan erupting from his throat. without warning billy pushed himself inside her and her mouth left stu with a loud moan. y/n threw her head back and billy stopped thrusting and slapped her ass.

“did we tell you to stop sucking princess?” stu spoke, beating billy to it. “n-no” y/n replied while stu grabbed her face and forced her to look at him. “no what?” stu tilted his head ever so slightly. “no sir” y/n quietly said and stu smirked at her. as y/n began sucking stu off again and using her hand for what wouldn’t fit, billy began harshly thrusting again. both boys chasing after their high touching all over their girlfriends body. the feeling of billy inside of her and stu on her mouth was becoming too pleasurable.

stu grew louder and began to pick up his pace as he was closer to his release. with a final thrust and seeing y/n moan around him he shot his hot load into her mouth. “swallow slut” he breathed out and was satisfied when his girlfriend showed him her empty mouth. stu smirked at her and kissed her lips “atta girl”. billy still going at it from behind, was only inspired to go harder. when he felt y/n clenching around him coming close to her own orgasm, he halted his movements. he slowly slid out of her and leaned forward to kiss her cheek.

“billy why’d you stop? i was so close.” y/n whined to him. billy and stu laughed knowing she was eager to cum. “girls with attitude don’t get to cum baby, you need to beg”. y/n’s face was flushed and her legs were trembling. “billy please, please let me cum. i promise i’ll be good” she pleaded. “stu, what d’you think? should i let our pretty girl cum?” billy turned to stu. stu glanced between the both of them before saying “yeah man, i think our slut can cum now”.

billy slid himself back inside of y/n and groaned “so fuckin’ tight baby”. she moaned in response and gripped stu’s thighs. just by the scene in front of him he was already growing hard again. y/n decided to wrap her hand around his length and started pumping to relieve him once again. he moaned and shifted his hips forward more into her hand. y/n’s back arched and billy’s hands were on her waist, pulling her back to meet his thrusts. she was moaning loudly and her mind clouded with her boyfriends.

stu brought his hand down and started grabbing y/n’s boobs as well as pinching and rubbing her nipples. whilst stu focused on her top half billy brought a hand down and began rubbing her clit. y/n lurched forward and let out a loud moan. she could feel the boys twitching signaling they were close. with the added pleasure y/n herself was so close to cumming. “fuck m’gonna cum. please, please, m’cumming” she screamed. “go ahead baby, we’re right with you.” billy grunted, both of their thrusts became sloppier.

in a moment they all came. y/n on billy, billy on y/n’s back, and stu on y/n’s hand. y/n looked into stu’s eyes and licked his release off her hand before resting her head against his thigh. billy had gotten a rag and cleaned up her back. stu had gotten up and placed her on the bed where he once sat and slid a pair of panties onto her legs and a nightgown over her. once they had gotten dressed they tucked her into her bed and smiled at her sleepy fucked out state. “goodnight princess” they both kissed her cheek, turned off the lamp, and exited through the window they came from.

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bloatedandalone04 · 1 month

Text

Bets & Bargains - Part 6

Series Masterlist

➪in which you and bradley reach a new point in your...‘relationship’ after your fourth date takes an unexpected turn, and it leaves both of you aching for more.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 6k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

You were going into your second hour of class when Bradley texted you, and while you would usually remind yourself to get back to him later and focus on taking notes, you put your pen down and pick up your phone instead, hiding it behind your book as you read the text.

Fratley: What are you doing later tonight?

You glance up at your teacher, and once you were sure he wouldn’t catch onto what you were doing, you quickly text him back.

Nothing, why?

Fratley: There’s a new horror movie out. For some reason I have a weird feeling that you’re into those kinds of movies.

You laugh to yourself, making sure Mr. Clarke wasn’t paying attention before replying to him.

I have no idea how you knew I like horror movies, but I’m down. What time?

Fratley: It starts at 7:20. I can pick you up for 7?

Sounds good.

You were giddy throughout the rest of the class and had barely paid any attention to what Clarke was saying by the time the class ended.

You got home at around 6, and quickly had a shower before Bradley would be here. The fact that you and he haven’t gone more than a day without seeing each other since you met was making you feel all sorts of things, and all of them were good. You couldn’t believe how much you liked him in such little time. It was almost concerning.

Sam was still a bit pissed off with you since you officially ended things with her brother, but you knew she would come around sooner or later. You didn’t need to marry Luke to be able to consider her your sister. In all honesty, you never saw yourself marrying Luke in the first place. You were still so young, why were you even thinking about marriage right now?

You push away those thoughts and get ready for the movie, opting to dress in black leggings and a cropped tee. You grabbed your UVA hoodie and draped it over your arm as you ran your fingers through your still damp hair. It would dry on the drive to the movies, and you were lucky enough to be one of those people whose hair didn’t get overly frizzy if you didn’t blow dry it.

Fratley: I’m here early. I couldn’t help it.

You smile at your phone and leave your room. Just as you were making your way to the door, your fingers typing out a reply to Bradley, Sam leaves her room and blocks your path. “Jesus,” you laugh as you abruptly stop walking. “I didn’t know you were home.”

Sam crosses her arms and tilts her head. “Where are you going? On another date with your rebound?”

You furrow your brows and put your phone in your pocket. “My rebound?”

“Yeah, that guy you’ve been seeing pretty much every day since that party,” she replied, squinting her eyes at you afterwards. “You know, the party I took you to.”

She was acting hostile again, and you weren’t sure why. This couldn’t be because you and Luke were done and that you were moving on, right? She wasn’t that petty, right? “Oh right,” you play along, crossing your own arms. “The party you ditched me at.”

Sam straightened up at that and her scowl deepened. “I already said I was sorry for that,” she muttered.

“I know, and I’ve already forgiven you, so I’m not sure why you’re bringing it up again,” you huff, annoyed that she was still going on about this when you could be with Bradley right now.

“Because,” she rolled her eyes. “If you never went to that party, you would’ve never met that Bradshaw guy and you would’ve never broken up with Luke.”

You laugh in disbelief. “Are you serious?” You ask, and when her expression doesn’t change, you stand up straighter. “Well maybe I would’ve met him on campus. We ran into each other the day after out of pure coincidence, I could’ve met him for the first time then. And Luke and I have been broken up. For a while now. I’ve moved on, and so should the both of you.”

Sam opened her mouth to respond, but you were fed up. You pushed past her and grabbed your keys from off the coffee table, glancing back at her as you shoved them into your bag.

“And for the record, Bradley is not a rebound,” was the last thing you said before opening the door and closing it behind you. You were a bit heated as you stepped outside, but the sight of Bradley leaning against the passenger side door of his Jeep calmed you down a bit. You were a bit breathless as you walked swiftly down the steps and reached him, lifting your hand and setting it on his shoulder. “Hi.”

He smiled down at you, his hands wrapping around your middle and pulling your body right up against his. “Hi,” he said back before leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. The kiss caught you off guard since it was only the second one you’ve shared with him, but the surprise quickly wore off as you deepened it. Bradley kept his face close to yours when he pulled away and murmured, “I saw that you read my text but you didn’t come out for a while. I got worried.”

His confession had you feeling warm for a completely different reason and you smiled up at him, sliding your hand down and gripping his bicep. “Yeah, sorry,” you trail off, your head a bit fuzzy from the kiss. “I was going to text you back, but Sam, my roommate, decided to start something with me just as I was about to leave.”

“Ah, the roommate,” he teased, reaching up to run his knuckles along your jaw. “Do I get to meet her soon?”

You laugh and shake your head, glancing behind you at the closed door before turning back to him. “Probably not. She’s my ex’s sister, and she’s a bit more than pissed that her brother and I are done,” you say and Bradley presses his lips together to stifle a laugh. “Might not be the best idea to formally introduce her to my ‘rebound’.” You complete the sentence by lifting your hand and finger quoting ‘rebound’, making Bradley let out a loud laugh as he leans further back against the Jeep.

“Rebound, huh?” He grunted. “That hurts, babe, it really does.”

You blush and shrug, meeting him halfway when he starts to lean back in for a second time. He kisses you quickly before pushing away from the Jeep and opening the door for you. “Thanks,” you mumble and sit in the passenger seat. “You kept it running?”

“Had to make sure your seat warmer was on,” he simply answered and your blush deepened, but he thankfully closed the door before he could see it. The darkening sky also helped hide it. “Ready to go?” He asked once he was in the driver’s seat, looking over at you with his annoyingly pretty brown eyes.

“Yeah,” you whisper and put your seatbelt on as he pulls away from the curb. “So what’s this movie about?”

“I don’t know, I think maybe it’s about a nun getting pregnant or something like that,” he answered and you nod with a quiet laugh.

“Nice choice,” you tease and he glances over at you.

“Hey, it’s supposed to be one of those scary convent movies. I thought you’d be into that kinda thing,” he smirked and you had to physically restrain yourself from kissing him again. How was he so effortlessly hot?

“Oh, I’m into it,” you hum and take his hand when he holds it out to you. He kept his left one on the steering wheel as you lace your fingers with his, and you tried not to think about just how big his hands are.

Seriously, Y/n, get a grip here. He’s cute, but he’s just a guy. A very cute guy. A kind guy. A stupidly attractive guy.

And that’s how you found yourself feeling completely screwed for a second time this week.

Even though it had only been a day, Bradley somehow found himself missing you.

It was crazy, because he shouldn’t be missing you so soon, but he couldn’t help it. He also couldn’t help the way he kissed you against his Jeep when he picked you up, and he was a bit nervous that you were going to react negatively since you and he weren’t actually official.

But you kissed him back and he was given the reassurance he needed to go on with this date.

Is this a date? Is this his third date with you? Or maybe fourth if you counted the brief movie night at his place, which he does.

Four dates in and he hadn’t even asked you to be his girlfriend. He’s seen you almost every day this week, and things were going great in his opinion, so why hasn’t he put a label on this yet?

He never took Bri out as often as three times a week in the eleven months he was with her, so maybe she was right about him not putting enough effort in with her, but that clearly changed with you. He didn’t want to be stuck inside anymore when he could instead be somewhere with you.

Bradley was still feeling a little guilty about allowing her to come over the other night, and that might have partly played into why he kissed you. He knew now that he wanted you, and knew he was going to stop wasting his time pining over a girl who only wanted him for his body and dick.

You were so different from her.

Bradley parked in the underground parking lot, and the whole drive here he had to pretend he didn’t notice the way you hadn’t pulled your hand out of his the entire time. Backing up with one hand was hard, but he didn’t want to be the first one to pull away. Maybe you were a sucker for physical touch like he was.

God, he hoped so.

You argued with him about buying your ticket, then dropped the attitude when he suggested that you pay for the drinks and popcorn. “This actually works out perfectly,” you hum as you take your drink and the tall bag of popcorn. “I paid for the garden, you paid for dinner, and now we’re equally paying for this.”

“I wouldn’t count me paying for dinner as anything,” he laughed as he tossed a bag of candy onto the counter after you had already paid for the drinks and popcorn. “Five Guys is so cheap.”

But you ignored his words as you glared at him, watching with squinted eyes as he pulled out his wallet. “Hey, I was supposed to pay for the snacks,”

Bradley just smirked and grabbed the bag of skittles. “I can’t have you paying for your own candy,” he said simply then laughed when you raised one brow. “Fine, we’ll share it.”

“I’ll pay you back,” you offered but he just shook his head and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, careful not to spill his drink on you.

“It’s like, four dollars worth of skittles,” he brushed off your words and guided you over to the ticket person, handing the guy both yours and his tickets. “I don’t think it’ll break me.”

“I just feel guilty when people pay for things for me all the time,” you say quietly as the guy pointed in the direction of the theater.

“Don’t,” he said just as quietly, pulling you along with him. “I don’t mind paying for things, babes. I have enough money to get me by for quite a while.” He didn’t want to go into too much detail of why he had a fair amount of money as he felt like bringing up the whole dead parents thing was a bit of a weird thing to announce before watching a movie that may include people getting brutally murdered.

You glanced up at him in a way that made you look so innocent, he wanted to kiss you right in the middle of the hall. “I like when you call me that,” you confess and he grins down at you, deciding to actually go for it now.

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, and he was still smiling when he pulled away. “Then I guess I’ll just have to keep calling you it,” he stated, watching as you blushed before ducking into the theater and booking it to your seat, leaving him to laugh as he followed after you.

Bradley had picked seats that were in the back row since you had told him that you preferred to not have anyone directly behind you, claiming that you’ve had your seat kicked one too many times now.

The more he found out about you, the more he wanted to know. You had all these cute characteristics and were so incredibly attractive to him, he was sure he would rather spend his time just talking with you than doing anything productive.

When he sat down next to you, he draped his arm over the back of your chair and leaned in to press a lingering kiss to your cheek. He had a feeling that it would make you blush again, and he was right.

Even in the dark room that was only lit up by the previews on the screen, he could see the way your face tinted with a blush, and the way you squirmed a bit. “You’re driving me crazy,” you whispered as someone came in and sat down a few seats away from you.

Bradley laughed and dropped the bag of skittles onto your lap, making you jump slightly. He would be lying if he said he didn’t love the way he was able to make you feel all flustered just by doing the smallest of things, like kissing your cheek. “Trust me,” he murmured. “The feeling is mutual.”

When the movie started, Bradley really couldn’t be blamed for not being able to pay much attention to it. He had, what could simply be described as his dream girl, right next to him and he had made you a blushing mess.

He was a bit annoyed that he hadn’t met you sooner, and he wondered how he had never seen you around campus before until this week. Surely he would’ve remembered you. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, the time he spent with Bri felt like a waste now that he knows he could’ve possibly been spending it with you.

Not even twenty minutes had passed since the movie began and Bradley had already lost interest. It seemed like you might have, too, since you had been not so subtly glancing over at him every now and then for the past five minutes.

The hand of his arm that was draped over your shoulder moved closer to your neck, and soon he was tangling his fingers in your hair. You shifted in your seat slightly, and the next time you looked over at him, he couldn’t stop himself from leaning down and kissing you.

You kiss him back almost instantly, as if you had been craving to do it as much as he was. Usually Bradley wasn’t into excessive displays of affection in public, but to be fair it was pretty dark in the theater, and the movie itself took place in a dark convent, so it’s not like anyone could see what you and he were doing.

And he couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself right now. He’s been so into you since that night at the party, he didn’t know what to do with himself. You were giving him the impression that you were into him, too, and that was enough for now, but he knew it was only a matter of time until he wanted more.

He wanted you.

Bradley reached over with his free hand and gently gripped your jaw, angling your head so he could deepen the kiss that was quickly becoming too heated to be deemed acceptable in a public setting.

He wanted to take you out of here and back to his house, but he also didn’t want to rush things with you. He wanted to take his time.

Then you grabbed his wrist and placed his hand on your thigh before sliding it upwards, and he was prepared to ignore all of that.

You grab onto his shoulders then slide your hands up until they are tugging at his hair, and he swore he had never felt anything better than that. When you started biting down on his bottom lip, he knew he had to either pull away and keep his hands to himself, or take you right out of this theater before something happened. “Y/n,” he rasped when he pulled back, only able to get out the one word before you were kissing him again. He held onto your forearms and pulled away again after a few more seconds. “Let me take you out of here, baby.”

The look you gave him had him not even caring how desperate he sounded as you bit down on your lip and tugged at his sleeve. “Call me that again,”

Bradley was smirking now as he leaned over until he was well into your personal space. “Come on, baby,” he whispered right next to your ear, “Let’s get out of here.”

The moan you let out after that had his cock twitching with want, and you stood up quickly, grabbing your drink as you made a beeline towards the stairs. Bradley grabbed his own drink and the half eaten bag of popcorn, rolling the edges of it until it was closed, then he was practically running after you.

When he made it out into the hall, you were already halfway down it, but he was able to quickly catch up to you. He wrapped his arm around your middle and turned your body, leaving a chaste kiss to your mouth before he was guiding you back towards the stairwell that leads to the parking garage. “Should we wait for the elevator?” You asked as he pushed you up against the wall beside it, glancing up to see that the elevator was on the seventh floor.

You began placing kisses to his neck and jaw, and when you poke your tongue out and ran it along the scar on his throat, he huffed through a moan, “No, let’s take the stairs,”

Then he was pulling the door open and tugging you down the three floors with him, neither of you caring at all about the looks everyone gave you as you finally made it to the garage. Damn near everyone in that movie theater were given a free show of you and him not being able to take your hands off one another, as were the people in the lobby, and it just excited him more because he had never felt this worked up before. And he was just kissing you when it happened.

“Why did you have to park so far away?” You whined as you tried to keep up with him. “I’m dying here.”

Bradley let out a deep laugh before stopping abruptly. He turned around and picked you up before you could accidentally run into him, and you squealed when he threw you over his shoulder. “Problem solved,” he grunted as he resumed his fast pace towards the back of the garage.

“Bradley,” you laughed as you clung onto the back of his shirt.

“What? You were going too slow,” he smirked as he tightened his grip on the backs of your thighs. He finally made it to his Jeep not long after that, and he set you down and held your body close to his with one hand while he unlocked it with the other.

It was considered a miracle that he was somehow able to not spill his drink on you with just how handsy he was being. He tossed the bag of popcorn onto the passenger seat next to your hoodie then grabbed your drink and set both yours and his safely in the cupholders, turning to you with a smirk now that his hands were free.

Bradley grabbed hold of your waist and pulled your body close to his, connecting your lips in a deep kiss as he pressed you against the back door. His tongue slipped into your mouth and brushed against yours, and the strained moan you released had him bucking his hips. A string of saliva connected the two of you when he pulled away and murmured, “Come on,”

He got up onto the driver’s seat and pushed it all the way back before holding his hand out to you. He helps you up and slams the door once you are settled on his lap, then his lips are against yours again. Your hands tangle in his hair as his grip your waist, tugging your body so your chest is right up against his.

“The things you do to me,” he mumbled when you pulled away and began placing open mouthed kisses to his jaw and neck, focusing on the spot where the hickey Bri gave him was beginning to fade. “It’s not right, the way you make me feel.”

Your laugh against his neck had him grinning as he closed his eyes and leaned back. “How do I make you feel?” You asked, removing one hand from his hair and tracing the tip of your index finger along the scars on his cheek. “Do I make you feel excited? Overwhelmed? Maybe a bit nervous but in the best way? Because that’s how you make me feel, all the time.”

You whispered those last three words directly into his ear and Bradley groaned loudly. “Yeah,” he breathed out, guiding your body into a slow roll against his. “That’s exactly it.”

“Oh, God,” you moaned and it was probably the prettiest sound Bradley had ever heard in his life. Your hands find his shoulders again and twist his shirt as you take it upon yourself to grind your hips against his, tilting your head back and exposing your neck to him.

Bradley’s eyes dropped down to your throat, and he couldn’t stop himself from leaning in and pressing his lips to your soft skin. The feeling of your covered core rubbing against him was surreal and he felt himself getting more worked up. He wasn’t even properly feeling you, wasn’t even inside you and he still felt so fucking good.

When he pulled away from your neck, his eyes darkened at the hickey he left that surely would be hard to cover up later, but luckily it was the weekend. Though he didn’t really care much. He secretly wanted the other guys on campus to see it.

Each drag of your core had you moaning louder and louder, and Bradley wanted to make you feel like this all the time. “Feel good, baby?” He asked in a teasing tone, smirking at the whine you let out as you nod.

“Yes,” you whisper, leaning in to press your forehead against his. “Maybe it’s a good thing that you parked far away.”

A blush took over your face and it sounded like you were forcing yourself to be quieter, and Bradley didn’t like that. “I don’t care if someone hears us,” he rasped, bending one of his knees and grasping your hips tightly. You moan at his words, then moan even louder when he takes full control and bucks up against you.

“Fuck,” you gasped, clinging onto his shoulders.

Bradley had never done anything like this in public before, but he knew he couldn’t wait until he got you back home. He also didn’t want your first time together to be in the front seat of his Jeep as he thought you deserved something a bit more romantic than that, so it was kind of good that this was an on top of the clothes type of thing.

“You’re so pretty,” he groaned as you met his thrusts halfway. “Way too fucking pretty for me.”

You grip his jaw and press a searing kiss to his mouth, the back of his throat silencing your cries of pleasure as you get yourself off on top of him. “Bradley,” you moaned his name and he had to physically hold back a surprise release at just how hot you sounded. “I like you so much, it’s almost pathetic.”

How sweet you sounded when you were insulting yourself. “I like you, too,” he said back, kissing up the side of your neck until his lips met the skin below your ear. “Ever since that night at the party. I thought you looked so fucking good standing in my dining room.”

You bite your lip and dig your nails into his shoulders. “You saved me from being by myself that night,” you struggled to say as you quickened the grind of your hips. “I was ditched just minutes before you came up to me.”

Bradley still had no clue why Sam ditched you, then he remembered that she is related to your piece of shit ex, and it suddenly made sense. He thought back to that awful text Luke sent you when you had fallen asleep during your movie night, and he was appalled that he had the nerve to talk to you like that.

But he could get annoyed with your ex another time, not when you were currently rocking your hips into his and kissing along his nearly healed scars. “You’re gonna make me come,” you warned in a tone that should not have sounded so innocent given the circumstances.

“Yeah?” He grunted, also feeling himself get close. “You’re going to make me come, too.”

You grin down at him and kiss his lips as you give a few more rolls of your hips before you tense up against him and release a string of loud, whiny moans. “Fuck,” you stuttered above him, twisting his hair in between your fingers as you came.

As you were coming down, you never stopped rubbing yourself against him, and not long after Bradley was coming, too. He dropped his head onto your shoulder as he let out deep and breathy groans, feeling his release coat himself in his boxers and jeans. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered as you finally stopped and let out a small laugh.

Your hands trailed through his hair as you both tried to regain control over your breathing. “Did you..” you trailed off as if you were embarrassed to ask him if he came or not.

It was almost comical since you had just given him what he thinks was the best orgasm of his life, and he never once penetrated you. All his past times with Bri felt like a bit of a joke now that he knew how good you felt, even fully clothed. “Yeah,” he answered, watching as a proud smile formed on your lips. Bradley leaned in and pressed a much more gentle kiss to your mouth, his hands coming up to smooth out your hair. “Sorry we didn’t get to watch much of the movie.”

Then it dawned on him that you and he left not even halfway through a movie about nuns and celibacy to go hook up in his car, and he had to hold back a laugh of disbelief.

You huffed as you shook your head, laughing afterwards. “It’s okay. I wasn’t really paying much attention to it anyway,”

“Me either,” he replied and you laughed again, hesitantly moving off him and crawling over to the passenger seat.

Bradley watched your every move, and when your eyes trailed down to his lap, you quickly covered your mouth with your hand. “Oh, my God, I’m sorry,” you gasp, making him furrow his brows in confusion before he looked down and noticed the wet spot on his thigh.

“Don’t be sorry,” he waved you off, not caring a single bit at the dampness on his jeans, but you seemed to be mortified.

“I’m embarrassed now,” you murmur and cover your face.

“Don’t be,” he said again, reaching over and taking your wrist in his hand. “I mean it. That was so fucking hot, and I already couldn’t stop thinking about you before. This definitely won’t help.”

That seemed to make you feel a little better as you slumped against the seat and gazed over at him. “I don’t want this night to end yet,” you confessed quietly.

Bradley slid his hand along your arm until his fingers were laced with yours. “I don’t, either,” he mumbled. “It’s still early. Why don’t we just sit here and talk?” His offer reminded him of the conversation he had with you that night Bri came over and nearly ruined his whole day. Then you called him and made things better, and he found out just how much he likes talking to you - though it was pretty obvious before.

“Okay,” you agreed, smiling over at him as you got into a more comfortable position, still keeping your hand locked with his. “Let’s play that question game again.”

“Okay,” he laughed, leaning back as well. “What’s your favorite holiday?”

“I love Christmas,” you answer. “It’s like the one time my family actually puts in an effort to spend time together.”

Funnily enough, that was one of the reasons Bradley didn’t like Christmas. He didn’t have a whole lot of family left, and the one person who was a constant in his life wasn’t a big fan of the holiday either. “You guys aren’t close?” He asked and you shook your head.

“Not really. My parents and I are close, but my sister and I haven’t really talked much since I came here,” you shrug and look over at him. “What about you? Does your family go all out for Christmas? Or is it a once a year type thing like mine?”

Bradley smiled and looked down at your joined hands. “I don’t really celebrate Christmas that much anymore,” he murmured, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. “I loved it as a kid, but now it just feels like a memory.”

Your face scrunches up in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Oh, God, was he really about to willingly have the dead parents conversation right now? Right after you and he just got each other off in a fucking parking garage? “Um,” he trailed off, looking at the various cars around. “Well…I don’t really have anyone to celebrate it with.”

He looked back over at you when you sat up and gave him your full attention, and he knew there really was no reason why he couldn’t just get this topic over with.

“My dad, he…died when I was really young, so I don’t really remember much of him,” he mumbled, feeling the way your grip on his hand tightened just slightly. He brought it up to his mouth and pressed a kiss to your knuckles before continuing, “And my mom died when I was still in high school, so the only person I really have is my uncle, and even he is hardly around anymore.”

There it was. His depressing as fuck backstory.

“Bradley,” you say quietly. “I don’t know what to say.”

He shook his head and gave you a small smile, reaching over with his free hand and running his fingers along your jaw. “It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything,”

You frown and press the back of his hand against your cheek. “I’m sorry,” you whisper and he shakes his head again.

“It’s okay, really,” he brushed off your words. “I can talk about this stuff more now without getting too upset. I mean, there’s nothing I can do about it, so that kinda makes it easier to talk about it.”

You nod and kiss along his knuckles. “Hey, I never did ask about what you wanted to do once you graduate,”

“Join the Navy,” he answered as if it was the easiest question he’d ever been asked. “Like my old man.”

“The Navy?” You echoed and sat up. “What, like, the Marines?”

“No, the Air Force,”

Your eyes widened at that, “You want to fly planes? Like, aviation?”

“Well, fighter jets,” he corrected with a laugh. “But yeah, I wanna fly planes.”

“Wow,” you trailed off, looking out the front window for a few seconds before glancing at him with a teasing glint in your eyes. “What do you want your call sign to be, flyboy?”

He grinned and shrugged. “I don’t really know. Maybe some kind of bird like my dad,”

“What was your dad called?”

For some reason you were super interested in his life, and he actually appreciated it more than he thought he would. “His call sign was Goose,”

“Goose,” you repeated the name with a small smile. “You should be…Duck. Your call sign should be Duck.”

“Duck?” He laughed and shook his head. “No, absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on, that’s a good one,” you laughed, too, somehow able to effortlessly turn a dark and depressing conversation into a much lighter one. “Fine. How ‘bout…Rooster.”

That one actually didn’t sound too bad, and it had the double ‘o’ like Goose. “Rooster,” he tried it out for himself. “Okay, that’s not terrible.”

“It’s settled then,” you state and lean back. “Your call sign will be Rooster.”

Bradley watched as you kissed the back of his hand before pulling yours out of it in order to open the popcorn bag. He was glad you knew about his parents now, as he wasn’t sure how awkward it would be to bring up later.

“What is your favorite holiday?” You asked as you dug around in the bag.

“Um, Halloween,” he replied and opened his mouth when you held a few pieces of popcorn up to his lips. “What was one subject in school that you just…fucking hated?”

You laugh and set the bag in between the two of you. “I was really bad at science subjects,” you mumble. “Like, really bad. I passed Chemistry with a 52.”

Bradley tried to hold back a laugh and brought his drink up to his mouth. “Well, Chemistry is pretty hard,” he offered, then couldn’t help but say, “But yeah, a 52 is pretty bad.”

You glare over at him but the smile on your lips told him that he didn’t offend you. “I’m aware,”

When Bradley was forced to drive you back to your place a little while later, he kept his hand on your thigh the whole time. He wasn’t kidding. He couldn’t stop thinking about you before he got you off in his front seat, and it would only be harder to after this.

“You know, we need to stop having so much fun every time we see each other,” you mumbled once he parked outside your dorm. “Sooner or later I’ll start expecting it.”

“What, having fun with me?” He teased, reaching over to tuck your hair behind your ear. “Trust me, babes, you’ll have fun all the time as long as you’re with me.”

You grin over at him, “I’ll hold you to that,”

Then you were leaning over the center console and pressing a deep kiss to his mouth. One that had him shamelessly groaning and wishing that you would invite him in with you, but he was also trying to remind himself that he wanted to take his time with you and not rush into things. “Have a good weekend,” he muttered when he pulled away. “I’ll be thinking about you nonstop, I’m sure.”

You blush and reach for the door handle. “The feeling is mutual,” you whisper, then get out of the car and make your way inside, leaving Bradley to wait until he felt like he had enough control over himself to be able to drive back to his place.

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fraudkuna · 9 months

Text

your phone buzzes on the couch.

you barely spare it a glance before picking it up, fingers habitually swiping across to answer. your other hand flips through the book you were reading languidly, something about interior design. the images of couches and lamps does little to draw your attention, but your mind remains barely focused on the call when you say a lazy, “hello?”

"hey." getou says on the other end.

you almost drop the book in shock.

"getou?" you switch your phone to your dominant hand, leaning into the screen. "getou? you, why are you calling? i mean, how are you calling? i mean, where are you? tell me where you are and i'll come see you—"

he has the audacity to laugh through the phone. "i have a surprise for you."

last time getou surprised you, he had massacred an entire village and some. panic makes your blood run still and you freeze in your chair. "you're... coming back?"

"i said surprise, not miracle."

it's almost funny. you almost laugh. almost. instead, you swear at him. "fuck getou, where are you? i've been trying to find you, we all have! listen, you know i don't give a shit if you're a murderer just, let me see you? please?"

getou chuckles again, he takes his sweet time doing so. "sorry, you're just so easy to tease. i'm not coming back, i've found my place already and i'm not leaving it a second time."

hurt makes your heart ache. his voice was so soft, so at peace that you believe he was right. in his own, twisted way, he was right.

"okay." you mumble instead, drowning out your rebellious thoughts with spoken word. "okay. then, why did you call?"

"i told you, didn't i? i have a surprise."

"is it a good one?"

"what do you consider good?"

"not murdering a small town's worth of people." you say.

"then you'll like this." he continues onwards despite your targeted words. "because there's no killing people this time around. i found gojo hanging around shibuya."

"uh." your eyes sweep to the clock hanging in your dorm. it reads early afternoon.

you hadn't seen gojo all school day, but then again, that was the typical nowadays. yaga had gained the habit of flinging him out into mission after mission following getou's disappearance, whilst you yourself remained at the academy. you could only watch as he was wretched further and further away.

these day, it wasn't an understatement to say the pair of you barely talked.

still, you understood gojo well enough to know that he'd typically walk the streets of busy cities after each mission's success, letting the bustling atmosphere overwhelm his brain and muddle his thoughts.

"okay? fork in kitchen?" after another thought, you stand from your chair. "wait, you're with gojo? the two of you? together? and you're still alive?"

"not together, i'm watching him from a distance. you didn't tell me he ditched the glasses for a blindfold. i think he looked better wearing the conventional eyewear."

there is so much wrong with his sentences that it takes a few seconds for you to conjure up a response. "first of all, gojo didn't abandon his sunglasses. second of all, how would i let you know? you, you changed phone numbers! i couldn't contact you even if i tried! and i did! so much!"

getou winces at your loud volume. "okay, my bad. but i'm telling you, gojo is walking around shibuya with a blindfold on. and he seems taller now."

"are you sure that's gojo?"

a pause. "do you know another white haired sorcerer who'd walk into an otaku cafe without hesitation?"

"mei mei." you answer. "if the otaku cafe paid enough."

"i think i know what mei mei looks like to confidently say i am not stalking after her right now."

"if you were, i think people would call the cops on you."

"they'd realise this would be the least of my crimes." he laughs into the phone but stops after you don't join him. "too soon?"

"never again." you mutter, then wince. "should i, should i come meet you?"

this time, it's his turn to fall silent. then, softly, "yeah."

"okay." you nod at nothing, fumbling to grab your dorm keys on the way out. it doesn't matter though, because you forget to lock the door as you run out of your room. "okay, okay. i'm coming right now, okay? don't move please?"

again, getou laughs. "i'm not going anywhere this time."

getou has lied to you many times before. he would say things like, "i didn't eat your icecream!" or "i wasn't the one that drew that on your report" or even "i won't leave you" with a smile on his face. you'd eat up every word that left his mouth even if you noticed his grin would never reach his eyes. it was like a circus act, one clear, obvious lie and one desperate acceptance. it was dramatic irony and it was pitiful.

getou leans against the railing in the middle of shibuya.

he didn't lie this time.

"getou!" your legs hurry you over to him. though he turns his head and looks at you, something you once believed would be enough to settle the void in your heart, you realise it simply wasn't. you throw your arms around his neck and bury your nose into his shoulder. "oh my god."

he smells a little different, perhaps he changed cologne along with changing his moral compass, but with a little imagination and effort, he almost smells like your getou, the one you knew.

his arms snake around your back and he holds you close. "hey. i missed you." he says into your hair.

you choke. "then you, you should have let me come with you."

he pulls back first and doesn't reply. anger and something else makes you grasp at the fabric of his sleeve but he eases himself out of your grasp. "i saw gojo over there."

sniffling, you look in the direction of his finger. "huh?"

"we're here to see gojo, remember?"

no, he was here to see gojo. you were here to see him. regardless, you squint your eyes and survey the packed streets. "i don't see him."

getou leans in, voice closer to your ears. his finger sweeps the crowd before pausing on a very familiar figure.

yeah, that was definitely gojo.

"wow, you're right. he is wearing a blindfold."

"you didn't know about this?"

"he and i, uh, haven't really been talking."

getou just hums. "what is he doing?"

"did he, did he get a new phone?" you wonder, observing the sleek shiny device in his hands. you watch as gojo lifts the device up in the air, an universal gesture for getting signal. it seems to bear no fruit and he slumps down, pocketing the phone.

"that's what you're focused on? look at him! he's so much taller now!"

"i hear boys get their growth spurt around that age."

getou looks down at you. "i haven't yet."

you make a face, finding it difficult to look at him. "um, look! he's moving. should we tail him?"

"are you kidding, of course we should."

he grabs your hand and you jolt at the contact before he drags you into the crowds. people bump into you from all sides but getou guides you through.

"he's entering a library." getou tells you because you're too short to peer from above. "i didn't know gojo could read."

you snort, then apologise to the stranger you ran into. "of course he can. he's still a student after all.”

"barely. what's he doing going into a library though?"

"maybe he picked up reading?"

you both laugh at the ridiculous idea.

soon, the two of you find yourselves at the steps of the library. tall windows surround the building on all four sides, perfect for peering into its contents. getou ducks behind the bushes that ran around the library's exterior, pulling you down into a crouch beside him.

he glances over at you before reaching around, pulling you flushed up against his side. you look up with a start, warmth heating up your cheeks as stray strands of his hair tickles your face.

"look, he's actually picking out a book."

you spin around and refocus.

"time travel and its consequences." narrowing your eyes, you state the title. "that's what he's reading? isn't that too hefty for a starting point?"

getou jerks his head towards the door. "let's get a closer look."

you hiss, yanking your interconnected hand back down. "he'll see us!"

"then we can just confront him head on."

you stare at him like he'd just told you he killed another small village on the outskirts of japan. "do you have a death wish? is this what this is all about?"

"i still have things i want to do so no, this isn't a death wish."

"right." you say, disbelieving. "that's what i thought. but what other reason could you have to see gojo again? if you tell me you miss him i will stab you."

his voice turns low. "of course i miss him. i miss everyone at the academy."

his confession leaves you temporarily stunned. "you don't get to say that after you left us."

"i didn't have a choice." he finally says, and the fake smile he's been wearing this whole day melts away. there's that scary look in his eyes, the one you've never seen before up until the moment he left.

"you had a choice. you could have chosen to not leave us."

pain twists getou's features into something ugly. "it wasn't that simple."

"no? then explain it to me using baby terms. i'm sure i'll get it then."

he says your name like it might stop you. it doesn't.

“getou.”

he sighs and lets go of your hand, using it to pinch the brim of his nose. "i don't owe you an explanation."

heat rushes to your face once more, but it isn't overflowing love that surges through you. "are you serious? i'm your friend, isn't that enough?" then, quietly, when he doesn't reply. "i am, right?"

getou looks at you and whatever he sees breaks his heart. his eyes fall from yours, staring instead at your shoes. "i've never once considered you anything but."

"me too." you rush to grab onto his hesitance. "even now, i still think you're my friend. that sounded bad, i mean, no matter what. you'll always be my friend no matter what you choose to do."

when he looks up, he isn't as defeated as he sounds. there's a resolve that lines his eyes and hardens his gaze.

you've lost him, really and truly.

"getou—"

"getou?"

shock renders your body useless as gojo peeks around the bush. he looms over the two of you, the height of his hair making you peer upwards, bending your neck all the way back to hold him in one single frame. most notably, black fabric covers the top half of his face in place of a pair of glasses, and you suddenly miss seeing the weird blueness of his eyes.

"i didn't think i'd see little you today." he says.

getou's eye twitches. "little?"

"he's from the future." you deduce, remembering the book gojo had picked out earlier. "it's okay, i think you're pretty tall already."

gojo’s eyes falls on you. “you’re also shorter.”

“yeah? well, you grew up into a creep.”

“you wouldn’t say that if you knew what you look like in the future.”

“what? what do you mean? hey, don’t ignore me, answer my question!” you reach forward and grab onto gojo’s collar, hoping to shake an answer out of him when his lips remain sealed.

“what about me?”

you look back at getou.

“huh?”

“what do i look like in the future?”

no one says anything.

you place a delicate hand over your mouth at the silence.

it doesn’t look like gojo will answer, so getou drops the topic, shoving his hands into his pockets. “how long are you here for?”

“i don’t know.”

“how are you here?”

“a curse’s technique.”

getou looks at him sideways. "is this all you're going to say to me?"

gojo thinks for a second. “want to stop by an arcade whilst i’m still here?”

the idea appeals to you so you nod. you look over at getou and he shrugs too. “sure.”

“alright.”

the hazy atmosphere of the arcade embraces you in nostalgia. the slot machines lining the left wall, the neon lights blinking from the dance dance revolution device, the aggravated scream from losers and the cheers from winners, that was you once.

you don’t visit the arcade that much anymore.

gojo slides himself into one of those first person shooter games and jerks his head to signal getou into the opposing seat.

“you can’t beat me at psychological warfare so at least try and beat me at this.”

disbelief scrunches getou's face. "i always beat you in psychological warfare."

“what do you think?” gojo asks you. “who will you side with?”

you look between them, caught in the middle. with a sigh, you walk to stand behind getou’s seat. your fingers grip his shoulders to give him a massage. “don’t let me down.” you threaten.

he nods, solemn. “understood.”

of course, things never go in the direction you wish. your failures pile up one by one as the three of you rotate around game after game. you receive no wins, none of them, but with every attempt, gojo’s shoulders raise higher and higher in pride.

you stand behind a ping pong arcade machine.

“addicted to losing?” gojo taunts.

“my parents didn’t raise a quitter.”

“sometimes it’s better to cut your losses before they happen, you know.”

you ignore his smug words and hit start.

gojo starts and he slams his paddle into the moving object, momentum shooting it across the board in under a second. your eyes catch the movement, instincts jerking your hand to the right to block the incoming attempt.

getou leans over your shoulder to watch. “to your left.” he says, and you obey. the ball enters your goal from the right.

he laughs nervously as you glare at him. “my bad.”

“you shouldn’t take advice from someone who still hasn’t won against me once.” gojo says.

“show off.” you mutter, receiving the pong as it slides to your half of the table.

“im just giving you an example on how you can be better.”

getou watches as you lose again. frustration narrows your eyes and tenses your shoulders in a way he thinks is endearing. a smile would look better on your face, though. so he clears his throat. “am i dead in the future, gojo?”

gojo’s paddle shakes, narrowly missing the pong by millimeters. “you—” it slams against the back of the goal slot and breaks in two.

“i won!” you scream. your hands fly up in the air in a physical cheer, palms out to receive a high-five from getou. when the sense of victory fades, your arms droop down to your side.

getou catches them, a grin on his face. “yay!”

“yay.” you repeat, sparing gojo a glance. uncertainty shakes your voice.

“that’s playing dirty.” he says.

“what are you going to do about it?”

a fierce grin cuts across his face. “round two.”

round two never comes because the three of you are effectively kicked out of the arcade, something about ‘breaking the pong’ being ‘disastrous’ and their behaviour ‘was scaring away customers’. instead, you all settle for dropping by the nearest convenience store and buying icecream.

gojo hands getou the red one but the other boy only shakes his head. “i like the purple one now.”

it’s an easy switch so you take the red icepole from gojo’s hand and trade it for the purple one you had taken.

gojo opens his blue one wordlessly.

“so, when are you going back?” you ask him.

“the technique should run out in 24 hours.”

you check your watch. “it’s only been five and a bit hours, you still have ages to go.”

“no, i’ve been here since yesterday evening.”

“oh.”

getou kicks a rock on the ground and it flies uncontrollably from the tip of his shoe. “today was nice.”

“yeah.” gojo says with a grin and he offers out his popsicle. you lightly tap yours against his and wait for getou to do the same.

a pause, and then getou's smiling too. he holds out his icepole. "no hard feelings?"

gojo bumps his against it. "so many."

his expression falls, eye locked with something behind you.

you turn.

gojo, your gojo, stands isolated amongst workers returning from their nine to five jobs. there’s a bag hanging off his arm and your eyes notice the brand belongs to getou’s favourite bakery just down the road from here. the bag slides down his sleeve as he stands there.

time for round two, you think.

#getou x reader #getou x you #geto x reader #geto x you #getou angst #geto angst #geto suguru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #satosugu #gojo angst

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yuurei20 · 3 months

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Rook Info Compilation part 15: Rook and Vil (pt4)

Rook says that, once they were better acquainted, one of the first things that Vil told him to do was to take care of his nails, as his hands were callused from gripping his bow string, with his skin dry and cracked.

Rook says that he hardly paid attention to his hands because he typically wears gloves (in the game guide there is a memo about how Rook wears gloves as often as he does in order to not leave fingerprints).

Vil says that Rook did not leave a very good impression when they first met: Vil was reading a script on a bench in the school’s courtyard when Rook approached him to compliment him on being a convincingly cold, tyrannical, tantrum-prone fiend in a recent play.

Rook claims he was “terribly nervous,” but Vil calls him a liar.

Vil explains that, after that first meeting, Rook started approaching him without any encouragement from Vil to “share his completely unsolicited opinions on (Vil’s) performances, then go on his way. Both his positive impressions AND negative ones.”

Vil says that over time he realized that Rook’s observations were oddly perceptive. One day he asked Rook how he would have performed a certain scene which Rook spoke critically of, and “He went on for FIVE HOURS STRAIGHT.” (Rook: “What a rewarding discussion that was.”)

Vil says that he had been convinced that he knew more about theater and art than anyone else his age, but “Rook quickly disabused (him) of that notion with his breadth of knowledge.”

After that, the two started meeting up regularly in the courtyard after school.

At the end of Book 5, Rook justifies voting for Royal Sword Academy by explaining that Vil lacked conviction: “No amount of validation from the rest of the world will ever leave you fulfilled. Even if you wind up old, grimy, and stooped over, if you were to truly believe that you are the fairest of all despite that, even the Magic Mirror of legend wouldn’t contest your claim. The strength and pride to believe in yourself is what marks the true fairest one of all.”(This scene later plays out as Rook describes in Book 6.)

Rook and Vil were on the same team for Beanfest in their second year and Rook says that “no one could mount any effective resistance” against them.

During pre-event stretches Vil notices that Rook’s shoulders and thighs have more muscle mass than usual. Rook explains that he had spent the previous month doing higher-intensity training specifically in preparation for Beanfest, as his wish to compete against Vil was granted.

Rook immediately pairs with Trey for the event, citing that teams need leadership to persevere, but during the game he asks Trey to not interfere with his capturing of Vil, which he successfully does after Vil runs out of beans. (Vil: “You’re stooped low, crouched like a predator. I can barely keep my aim trained on you!”)

During Phantom Bride Rook comments, “Would a bride who’s spent so long seeking her groom be willing to relinquish him? Were it myself, I would never let my dear beloved go.”

At the end of the event Vil is displeased with how long Epel and Rook took to come to his rescue and Rook apologies, saying, “I found myself lost so often without you to light my way,” but Epel points out he had actually been “busting up ghosts with giddy abandon.”

#twstrook #Rook Hunt #twstfacts #rookfacts #twisted wonderland

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veliseraptor · 1 month

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April Reading Recap

Stars of Chaos vol. 2 by Priest. I'm not quite grabbed by this one yet. I'm not not enjoying it, but the main relationship doesn't quite have me compelled, and the politics aren't quite sharp enough to get me either. I'm not totally sure I'll keep buying the published volumes, at least not at this time, and just read the rest online to see how I end up feeling about it as a whole before making the financial commitment.

Medea by Eilish Quin. Listen, I'm a Medea apologist, but I'm a Medea apologist who is very much of the "she absolutely did all the awful things she's accused of and she is valid" and the author here is going "she did all the awful things she's accused of but it's not as bad as you thought it was because she didn't mean it!" and I'm just. I'm not mad, just disappointed (again). I was so hoping for a book that would do something interesting with a Medea retelling but I probably should've known better than to think it'd be this one. Why, you may ask, do I keep reading myth retellings about my problematic faves when all I do is complain about them? Hope springs eternal, I guess.

She Who Became the Sun and He Who Drowned the World by Shelley Parker-Chan. Exceptional. Might be my favorite books I read in April. I'd already read She Who Became the Sun back when it was first published and knew I'd enjoyed it (was rereading to refresh my memory for the sequel), but I felt like I enjoyed it more the second time around, and I might've liked He Who Drowned the World even more than its predecessor. If you're looking for works of just-barely fantasy with delightfully fucked up queer characters, come get 'em here. I won't say most of them are happy (they're not) or that things end well (they don't), but boy is it good reading.

The Death of Jane Lawrence by Caitlin Starling. Decent horror but not particularly outstanding, in my opinion. I liked The Luminous Dead more.

Untethered Sky by Fonda Lee. I continue to struggle with novellas. This was a perfectly good novella but it felt like it could've been a stronger short story, which I guess is better than the other way I usually come out of novellas, which is "this was a fine novella but it should've been a novel."

The Mountain in the Sea by Ray Nayler. I really liked this. It has more of a thriller-ish edge than I expected, but for all that I think it's a thoughtful book with some interesting things to say, and I feel like it's one I want more people to read so I can talk to them about it. It's set in a sort-of spooky, near-future dystopia, but a lot of it is about, like, the nature of thought and consciousness. Anyway, I found myself compelled.

Islands of Abandonment: Nation Rebounding in the Post-Human Landscape by Cal Flyn. I found myself reading this thinking a lot about The World Without Us, a book I read many years ago and would kind of like to reread, and which I think I liked more than this (at least in my memory). I was hoping for more analysis than I got from this book, which was beautifully written but more nature/travel writing than science. One thing I did appreciate was the attention paid to the human cost of the "abandoned" places examined in this book - the pain that abandonment often signifies, and the trauma it indicates, in spite of the beauty that may come after.

Emperor of Rome: Ruling the Ancient Roman World by Mary Beard. I really liked the way that Beard chose to do this one - namely, taking it by theme rather than by emperor, and breaking down different areas of the emperor's life over time rather than trying to tell a linear narrative. It also let her do some of the better "skeptical" reading of sources that I've read in a popular book on ancient history, where she was actually digging into the "rather than what this says about what this person may or may not have actually done, what does it say about expectations, beliefs, and tropes that people had" kind of reading. And after some of the other popular histories of Rome I've read, thank god for that.

Metamorphoses by Ovid, trans. Stephanie McCarter. Continuing on with my "reading new translations (by women!) of classical epics" run (started with The Odyssey, The Iliad is on my list). It was fun to reread Ovid! As usual one of my favorite parts of this was reading the translator's note and introduction, and I wanted about 500% more of that through the text (tell me about the assonance you're preserving in the Latin!) but did get some of (thanks for the information on the penis/pubic hair puns!). Overall would recommend as a good translation of Ovid that very much does not flinch away from - and makes/keeps appropriately uncomfortable - the sexual assault.

Dark Rise by C.S. Pacat. Slightly more YA than I usually like, but I enjoyed it! I was a little :\ about it for a while, very much feeling the YA cliches of it all, but the late hour twist got me interested again, and I will be picking up the sequel. Did miss the full balls-to-the-wall iddy joy of Captive Prince, though, since I probably wouldn't have picked this book up without the author recognition.

Subversive Sequels in the Bible: How Biblical Stories Mine and Undermine Each Other by Judy Klitsner. I really liked this one, particularly for its commentary comparing and contrasting Eve, and the other women of Genesis, with later Biblical narratives. I don't know how much I buy all of her arguments when it comes to intentionality of all of the comparisons she's drawing, but it certainly makes interesting food for thought, and a good sampler for me of what literary-based Biblical scholarship can look like (and an indication that I'm interested in trying more of it).

Use of Weapons by Iain M. Banks. I read most of my way through this book continuing to really appreciate what Banks does with the Culture novels and planning to continue on reading the next one, but not enjoying this specific one as much as I did The Player of Games in particular, and then I got to the very end of it and went "hang on what the fuck???" but in a decidedly good way. And I'm still kind of thinking about That even though it's been a while, which I think is a positive. Anyway, I don't think I'd recommend this as a starting place for anyone to read the Culture novels, or as a must read, but it was on the upper end of a three star rating.

Juniper & Thorn by Ava Reid. I wanted this to be more gothic horror and less romance and it ended up being more romance and less gothic horror, was my feeling. Not necessarily the book's fault, but if anyone else is eyeing it wondering...now you know.

A Deadly Education by Naomi Novik. I really enjoyed this one! I was kind of skeptical going in - I'm not a big magic school person, as a rule, and the more I feel like something is hyped to me the more I tend to drag my heels about it - but Naomi Novik is really good at what she does and she clearly had a lot of fun here. It's tropey for sure, but I enjoy the narrative voice (very important, in a first person narration), and the action moves along with what I felt was pretty good momentum. The other thing I was worried about - that it'd feel too much like this was just ~commentary on/against Harry Potter~ without saying anything for itself - didn't materialize for me. I'm looking forward to reading the next ones.

The Monster Theory Reader ed. by Jeffrey Andrew Weinstock. I'm so rusty on my academic/theory reading and I felt it reading this collection, some of which was definitely better than others. Kristeva's essay on abjection was particularly rough as far as "I'm reading words and I know all the words but something about the order they're going in is just not making sense to me." Overall...it was a decent primer? There were a few very interesting essays in there; my favorite might've been the one on tanuki in modernizing Japan's folklore, but there were a couple on "monstrous" bodies that made me wish I had someone to discuss them with. That's probably my main problem reading academic works these days: I want a seminar to dissect them afterwards and I just don't have that.

The Sabbath: Its Meaning for Modern Man by Abraham Joshua Heschel. I'm trying to read something Jewish on Shabbat now and finally getting around to reading some Heschel after years of meaning to. I thought "oh, I'll start easy with something nice and short" - yeah, no, Heschel's got a very particular style of writing and there's a lot of theological depth packed into a very short volume. I'm looking forward to reading The Prophets, though.

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun vol. 5 by Rou Bao Bu Chi Rou. I think we're juuuuust about caught up now with the official translation to where I started reading the machine translation, so I'm very excited for (a) things I don't remember as well (b) reading it not in machine translation. Also looking forward to everything about what happened with Nangong Liu and Nangong Xu making more sense this time around, on account of not reading it machine translated, because I didn't follow it so well on my first read and I feel like I'm already doing better. (Though that could also be because it's a reread, no matter how different an experience of one.) Still feel real bad for Ye Wangxi, on so many levels. Mark that one down for 'characters I'd love to know more about what they're thinking.'

The Water Outlaws by S.L. Huang. I really enjoyed S.L. Huang's other work with the Cas Russell series, and I liked this book a little less than those. It felt like an almost winner, for me. Certainly I read through it quickly enough, and I can say I enjoyed it, but I'm not sure I'd give it an enthusiastic recommendation. It falls somewhere in the middle between "a fun action/adventure story" and "something I can sink my teeth into" in a way that didn't quite satisfy either itch. Still, it did make me curious about the source material, which is one of the Chinese classics (Water Margin) and I might go and find a place to read that, if I can; if I'd had that background going in I wonder if my experience of this work would've been more edifying.

I'm currently rereading A Memory Called Empire so I can (finally) read the sequel (A Desolation Called Peace); I also checked out from the library the next two Scholomance books so I'll be reading those. I'm going to try to throw some nonfiction somewhere in there (maybe The Genius of Birds by Jennifer Ackerman, which I also have out from the library, but maybe something else), but I've still got the sequel to The First Sister sitting on my shelf (also from the library).

Outside of that I've got no big reading plans - I'm working my way through some of the unreads on my own shelf (despite what it may look like, about the library books) and eyeing The Doors of Eden by Adrian Tchaikovsky or a reread of Foundryside by Robert Jackson Bennett so I can continue that series.

#long post for ts #reading recaps #sometimes i read things #sometimes i wonder if i should have more like. summary information on what books are about #but i am lazy and also that's not really the point #important text posts

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imthefemalemonster · 1 year

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Hiii

Can u Yandere!Daemon Targaryen x reader

He kind of force her to marry him after he arrive in pentos (he didn’t marry leana) time pass and she just love him and they have lots os kids. They go to leana funeral but daemon don’t left her side, when people tried to talk to him alone he says that his wife stays. The one second that she left his side to attend one of their kids Rhaenyra came to his side and asks if he love reader and he barely look at her before saying that she’s his moon end stars (Khal Drogo vibes) ❤️❤️❤️

Hello beautiful! Of course I can, I loved the ideas and I tried to develop a bit more the start of the relationship, I hope you like it. ♡

***

⸻We'll Meet Again

Daemon Targaryen x Female!Reader (Fluff/Mature themes)

⸻ Summary: Love grows mysterious way; you soon find out when Prince Daemon Targaryen seeks your hand and even the Gods themselves wouldn't dare refuse him.

Tags: Not Canon Compliant, Canon Divergence, Dubcon, (at the beginning), Obsessed/Overprotective Daemon, Forced Marriage, Innocence Kink, Age Difference, (age not specified but reader is ~20), Fluff, Kisses, Hugs, Mention of Sex, No Use of Y/N, No beta feminism left my body when I wrote this

⸻Read on Ao3

Notes: Requested by anon, I hope you like it. ♡

There’s mention of some sex/virginity loss/first time but nothing too bad, not really smutty more fluffly with Daemon being obsessed ((manipulative)) and overprotective with you. ~

Warning for dubcon at the beginning.

Tumblr for ideas/requests: @imthefemalemonster

Smut & fluff prompts: here & here

⸻ Words: 4934

The afternoon sun hit your skin as you walked down the streets. Busy and noisy, you wandered with ease in the crowd, in the city you knew all too well. You had to meet friends at the port, the one Pentos was most known for. You had proposed to meet in the beautiful gardens close to your home, but the air of the sea suited your friends more. As you arrived near, you looked around, only finding goods, people and boats. The familiarity of the place reassured you, the smell of the water like a mother’s embrace. But as you walked down the gardens, into the city and to the port, for some time now, you had felt eyes on you, two orbits you saw too much to be a mere coincidence.

Daughter of a public figure of the city, your father made rich from the trades of spice, you were accustomed to interested men gravitating around you. But youthful as you were, or rather innocent and unbothered. You had never really thought about the next big steps in your life, you preferred living in the instant. What pleased you were long walks, books that told a hundred stories, and the little voices in the walls who recounted the tales of love and betrayal of the people of the city, of the lands, and past the sea. You listened with much care, learning about the things you would maybe never see. Seated next to your friends facing the sea, you heard songs and stories, your noses in books as you all laughed and speculated on how the other people outside the city must live. You had a few friends over there, girls you met times ago, their letters would crack under your curious fingers, drowning into the words of another world. As you listened to the story of your friend and flying lizards, which you longed to see one day, you noticed the presence back not far away from you. You couldn’t quite catch the sight for long, everytime your eyes met, the figure would disappear soon after. You had never paid much attention to it, you were used to being looked at. But something deep inside you knew that this was different. Turning your head back to your friends, you soon forgot the blonde locks and lilac stare, until the next time you meet.

It happened in the garden the second time you really paid attention to it, you won a tender smile. The third time a voice, a low, deep one who sounded both like a threat and honey, like a blade would tenderly brush your skin, each second menacing to pierce your body and see the blood flow out of it. The fourth time, you couldn’t remember, was it at the port again? Near your home? As the day passed, it felt like everyday. Everyday a shadow behind you, eyes on your figure. Hands that grazed your back, fingers brushing your neck, smiles exchanged. Curiosity got the better of you when you approached, naive as you were. The gardens were full of people, talking, laughing. Digits touched slightly as the words flowed in your ears, lips sweet against your skin. He had a name and a title you would not forget. Once again the orbs left you alone, your hands gripping the silk of your dress, lips parted as you wanted to call him back. Prince Daemon Targaryen.

Daemon had rarely held this much restraint. What he desired, he always got, whatever it cost. So when it came to you, he observed, he stalked, he learnt. You were much younger, walking around the city with an innocence to match his insolence. Your laugh was honey to his ears, your face as enchanting as the sun, your voice a bliss he could beg to hear singing, as you did once in your home’s garden as he was resting near. The first time he noticed you, you never left his mind. It was similar to poison, but one he would drink day after days after day even if it consummated him to the bones. Without your knowledge, he followed you in the city, he watched your fingers turn the pages of a book, the details of your joints engraved in his mind as they moved gracefully. He observed your lips moving as you talked, laughed, called to your friends or spoke words he drowned into. Daemon desired you all over his body, and desired him all over yours. At first it was soft, discreet caresses. When he got tired of just following you around, he craved to touch. He lost his hands behind your exposed back, digits tracing your spine. He observed you shiver at the touch, trying to meet the eyes of the culprit of these unwanted caresses. Daemon would smile at your visible distress mixed with curiosity, his arousal growing stronger with each touch. He grazed your neck, arms, hands. He wanted to possess you whole.

When he noticed people, especially men talking to you, he would fixate on them until they couldn’t hold his lilac stare anymore and they would leave. Rejoicing in the newfound power he had, as much as his reputation gave him, he observed you walking alone, shadowing you like he was your dark reflection caused by the sun. After you really interacted for the first time, to his delight, exchanging names and smiles, he was even more present at your sides. He never thought you really appreciated it, he never cared, in time you would, he would make you love it. So you walked together, talked all afternoons long, spend evenings together. He would randomly show up at your door, surprised but touched by the attention, you obliged him. When he walked all the way to you, he would grab your wrists, his figure broad and impressive, you felt small, a kitten held in gigantic arms. You couldn’t quite tell if you appreciated it, all the attention, all the time, but your life had become his. Everytime he met you eyes, Daemon used all his strength, everything he didn’t know the Gods could give him not to press you onto him and devour you whole like he dreamed for weeks now.

That night, Daemon had invited you to a sort of feast organized nearby. You weren’t sure what was celebrated, but you accepted as you loved to hang out. Maybe you could find your friends there, some you hadn’t seen for some time now since you spent most of your time with Daemon now. You felt some relief at the idea, the city was noisy with music and voices, busy with lights and fire at every corner, you rejoiced at the atmosphere. When you stepped out of your house, he was already here. The Rogue Prince, standing fiercely, eyes stripping you from your thin dress as he looked at you from toes to head.

“You smell really nice.”, he whispered as he stalked toward you, hands resting on your waist as his head leaned into your neck.

The contacts had become so much more intimate the past few days. You only thought it was gentle and attentionate. Sometimes you couldn’t quite decipher the smirk on his lips as he looked at you. To you it was kindness, to him it was hunger. He reached for your hands, thumbs caressing the skin, his digits trapping your own as he guided you toward the exit, down the streets, into a grand and beautiful house decorated with magnificent mosaics. There he placed his arm around your waist, locking you against him. Inside, you walked like a couple you were not, to you, not to him.

Daemon had hoped you would stick with him, now that you had learned the lesson. Maybe he had not worked hard enough, or maybe you were really this naive. When you immediately left his arms, the heat of your body leaving with you, he groaned in discontentment. Stalking behind you as you wandered and talked to people you knew, he observed each of the faces, each he would remember so they never talked to you again. His digits found your neck, your arms, your back, but everytime you escaped his control. You went around laughing, sometimes turning back to smile at him and invite him near. He drowned in these moments you would look at him, and him only. That all of you were focused on him. He could grab you, lift you above the crowd and claim you as his. After hours of talking and laughing, music buzzing in your ears, your feet and body were exhausted. You were still in the middle of everyone, you sighed ready to leave as you felt a harsh grip on your waist. You recognized the touch immediately, Daemon’s chest pressing in your back, his lips brushing the overheated skin of your neck.

“Give me your attention.”

The words left his mouth so fast, cold as ice, it felt more like an order than an invitation.

“I’m sorry?”, you mumbled, eyes filled with confusion.

“I haven’t received any.”

You choked on the words. His voice wasn’t low and soft like it used to. It was guttural and scary, like it was coming from a part deep inside him you never wanted to meet with. You heard the stories, you would rather not finish impaled on a sword or fed to a dragon.

“All night.”, he continued, spinning you around with no care for your tired body, his eyes staring into yours, intimidating.

“All-”, you paused, uncertain of his intentions, “I’ve been with you all night.”

He scoffed at the words, a hand on your neck, squeezing it slightly. Smirk on his lips, more vile than kind. He pressed his broad body onto yours, you felt crushed, by him, and by all the people around you.

“You have not paid attention to me all night”, he repeated, the sentence like a blade ripping your throat open, “Apart from glancing at me and laughing with other… men.”

The last word was accentuated like an insult. You swallowed, his thumb pressing on your neck as he felt it. You felt both angry and sorry. Maybe you could indulge in more time with him, but you already did everyday. You sighed. One last time then.

“I’m sorry.”

His eyes sparkled at the words, lips moving into a soft smile. You had found the right words, you thought. He nodded, a hand cupping your cheek. A gentle and reassuring move, to you. To him, he could mold you to every of his desires because you were so easy to frighten.

“It’s all fine.”

You smiled as he lowered his hand to your wrist, brushing it gently, digits closing around it as his body started to move back, taking you with him

“You can give me this attention now, I promise to use it well”, he murmured against your face, flushed at the hot air hitting your skin. “How about we finish the night elsewhere?”

Unsure what the words meant, you simply nodded, letting him guide you outside. You walked past people and houses, down the street to the port, where you loved to rest during the day. It was dark, deep in the night as you sat facing the sea. You felt reassured, it was just another gentle evening at his side, maybe he had gotten overwhelmed by the people, and you wanted to reassure him that your friendship was still intact. Legs slightly brushing one another, he fixed at you. His face had changed, you couldn’t quite decipher it. He was smiling, but it didn’t feel gentle. You wanted to ask a thousand questions.

Daemon was lost in his thoughts. He was so close to both his goal and climax. Your naive, flushed face turned toward him, he could have lost it in seconds. He dreamed of your scent and naked body, to have you scream his name on the very floor. But he doubted you had the same idea in mind even if he wished you did. Forcing the act was considered but he didn’t go with it, he would rather avoid a diplomatic incident. He was surprised by his own restraint. He would win this war with words and touches, like he did for weeks now. You would yield.

“I’ve never felt stronger than when you’re with me.”

Your eyes widened at the words, knowing him, it meant much. Blushing you lowered your head to your hands, shyly intertwining your fingers as they danced on your dress.

“How strong?”, you laughed. He focused on your hands, his eyes lost on the motions as he dreamed of having them all over his scared body.

“Give me your hand and I’ll show you.”

You obeyed, raising a hand toward him, unsure what he would do with it. He softly grabbed it with his own, he paused for a second, observing every detail on your beautiful skin, before softly kissing the top of it. You shivered at the touch, cheeks red and eyes escaping the intimate sight.

“Daemon-”, you chuckled. You had heard and read a thousand love stories. This is how they started and you smiled at the nice intention. You tried to withdraw your hand, ready to ask him to take you home, your tired body starting to hurt. But when you moved your arm, he only squeezed your hand harder, pulling it to him. You frowned your eyebrows, raising your head to look at him, confused. Everything sane had left him, his eyes were as dark as the night and as savage as the sea.

“You are my love.”

Waves crashed near you. You wished they would have swallowed you whole with the words just spoken. You had understood Daemon’s intentions a while ago, you weren't a stranger to the flattering of men. But you had never shown interest back, you thought. And if you ever did, you wished for it to take the time it needed, the one you needed. Maybe love wasn’t the word yet, you had sincere feelings for the man, gratitude to his kindness and attention.

“I don’t-”

You couldn’t speak. What could be said?

“You don’t love me?”

Eyes closed, your hand still trapped in his, you felt it tense, squeezing your harder. It felt like a warning, not like concern.

“I-”, you searched for the right words again, “That’s not what I mean no. I truly appreciate you…”

“Then what?”, his eyes pierced right through your heart, it bled like rain falling from the saddened skies.

“I’m not- I’m not ready Daemon”, you spoke, voice trembling.

“You don’t need to be”, he rasped, “You never truly are.”

You shook your head at the words, it didn’t make sense.

“I don’t want it.”

His digits dug in your palm, his breaths heavy. You wondered if it was going to be the sword or the dragon that would end you.

“You don’t”, he whispered, he had not moved a bit, like he was turned into a statue, his face similar to stone, “Then what of the touches? The smiles? The laughs? The time spent together?”

“Simple kindness!”. You let go of the words, wondering if you would regret them, “You were nice, and I appreciated it, so I was nice too. That’s it.”

“But that’s not love to you?”, he scoffed, “Oh you truly are that innocent.”

“I never said it wasn’t, I only said I didn’t know yet.”, you whined, “Maybe with more time.”

“I don’t want more time.”, Daemon grumbled, “I know what I want.”

You raised your eyes to meet his stare, as time had passed, you had both moved closer, you got lost in his eyes and him in yours.

"I want you.”

Your heart stopped beating, it felt like void, no noise was to be heard but the whispers of the sea. May she deliver you. Silence loomed for minutes.

“B-but my family”, it was merely an excuse, you didn’t really care. You only wanted to get out of here, out of his manipulative grasp.

“They didn’t deserve you.” His thumb brushed your hand softly, he almost had you. “I’ll treat you well. I’ll love you. I already do.”

Eyes tearing up you closed your eyes, focusing on your heart racing again. Your digits intertwined like real lovers.

“Love…”, he whispered. The words had you tensing. It felt good, yet menacing. Did you even have a choice? Accept and it was done, but refuse? It would probably be worse. You heard the stories, you knew the stories. You felt his presence lean closer to you, his nose brushing yours.

“F-fine.” You gave up. Maybe you only needed time. He drank your words like the best wine, his smile malicious, victorious.

Thoughts and prayers were taken away from you like air in your lungs when his hand grabbed the back of your neck, pushing your lips to his. The distance was closed in a wet contact, much more gentle and loving than you imagined. And to the first kiss followed the first night.

Your father was quick to accept. You never really thought about his opinion on it, but considering his status there was nothing more he could wish than having you bed a Prince. You felt a sort of abandon when they agreed so fast. To be tossed around wasn’t your greatest joy. You still had to process the last night and the gravity of Daemon words. Your father wasn’t necessarily overjoyed, everything was business to him. If the business was good, then he rolled with it. Within the day it was done. Now Daemon didn’t have any sort of restraint concerning you anymore. He stayed at your house and came when he wanted. At first it was a grand annoyance to you, you felt like liberties had been taken away. But as the days passed, the word ‘husband’ slinging on your tongue started to please you, as you were met with ‘wife’, even if you preferred ‘my love’. You couldn’t quite explain it, something felt right.

You sensed something different in Daemon, like his chains had been taken off. He was still terribly overprotective, especially after claiming before all as his wife and to his words, ‘his greatest love’. You experienced everything of a wife, and more to the fact that you were the Rogue Prince’s. Now Daemon was not shy to threaten anyone who would look down on you or wouldn’t treat you well enough to his taste. The men walked toward you eyes on the floor, the women envied you as you told the thousand kind attentions Daemon had toward you everyday. He wanted you both to experience everything of love and more.

The first time was… strange. You remember his own excitement and your confusion. You had… read things. But you still rested there on the bed, inexperienced and exposed to his expert hands. Freezing and tense, your heart beat to a never ending race. When he crawled above you, you braced yourself for the pain you have been told about. But to your great surprise, you were drowned in praises and kisses, exchanging smiles and laughs. You remember the feeling, it was painful, but it was accompanied by your loving husband's willing hands and mouth. For the few seconds of pain you had, he granted you hours of pleasure. And it never ended, each night back at it. You kissed and kissed, whispering words, your bodies enlaced, full of him as he melted into your tender embrace, worshiping your body like the Gods.

The first kick happened at night. You couldn’t sleep well as the month went by and your belly grew larger. When you felt it move your eyes widened. It didn’t hurt, it just felt weird to feel the little babe growing inside you manifesting itself. Smiling, you brushed your skin hoping it felt it too. You leaned closer to Daemon, fingers tapping his chest. Sleeping was much easier for him as he was glued to your body, legs intertwined, arm under your head and breath heavy against your sensitive skin. He emerged when you kept pinching his cheek, trying to get his attention. He turned to you, face half awake, worry in his eyes. Since the start of your pregnancy he had been more than overprotective. You struggled to thought it was possible. But he followed you everywhere, never leaving you alone. He ensured you always had maidens around in case anything happened. You took naps together, bathed together. He spend hours head resting next to your growing belly, peppering kisses all over it. He whispered soft and loving words to the babe. You watched him, brushing his hair while he felt asleep on your chest.

“What’s wrong? Are you ok?”, he spoke, sitting up, his hand brushing your shoulders, thumb circling the skin in a reassuring manner.

You smiled at him, gently guiding his hand toward your baby bump.

“It keeps moving”, you mumbled, falsely vexed as you closed your eyes to melt into his touch. His digits grazing the skin, slowly tracing your rounded belly. He laid back on the bed, face next to yours as you exchanged loving kisses, the baby’s kicks reminding you of its presence. “They are going to love you.”

“They?”

“I want many of them.”, you smiled against his lips. He laughed into your mouth as he planted kisses on it.

Entering into labor was probably the scariest thing that happened to you. You had heard much about giving birth, but all the words Daemon would whisper in your ears couldn’t calm you down when the first contractions happened. It felt like tearing your body apart. You groaned and used words nobody thought could come out of your mouth. You ripped the fabric open in your hand, cried to whoever would hear you. As always, Daemon was at your side. You screamed and begged him to never leave you. He promised it and he never left you. The only time you allowed him to was when he stood up fiercely, your son in his arms as he cradled it, walking back to you. Dropping the little whining babe in your arms, he sat next to you, brushing the sweat off your face. He laid next to you, arms over your body and the little one. I love you. The sun set and the moon rose, the years passed and he was here for your second son, and still here for your little girl.

“I’m not leaving your side.”

Daemon looked after your two little boys like the most precious things he had. They looked very much like him. Fearless, brave, insolent. They ran around the house, escaping your sermons when Daemon laughed them off. They looked up to him with such admiration, he walked them to the port, trained them with the sword, and rode Caraxes with them. He had all eyes on your two little Princes. He praised them, kissed them, hugged them, loved them more than you could ever hope. You watched them grow in his arms. After their birth, waiting for your third child who happened to be a girl you wondered if he would treat her any different. Worries bubbled in your belly as she grew. She was very much like him too, which Daemon adored. He cherished her with everything he had, he taught your boys to love her as much. Barely walking, held between her older brothers, she walked with them to the port, into the gardens, her eyes sparkling like her father, fire into her veins. The girl was very talkative, even if her babbling didn’t make sense to others, Daemon listened to it for hours as she sat on the bed with her small hand moving in the air. He was so attentive, so focused, he answered back and their connection grew stronger each day.

“You were right here all along.”, you whispered.

Daemon raised an eyebrow at the words, unsure of what they meant. You were both laying in the grass, the afternoon sun cradling you both as your children were running around amongst the flowers in the garden. You heard their little yells and laughs as they were chasing butterflies under Daemon’s attentive gaze.

“You do love me.”

“You thought I lied?”, he murmured. There was no anger in his voice, but you could decipher a hint of sadness.

“No”, you reassured, cupping his cheek gently as you smiled at him, “But I like that it showed through the years.”, you paused, “By other means than grabbing my hand and kissing it.”

A shy laugh left him as he kissed your temple. You felt a small presence at your side as you turned, meeting with your lovely daughter, still struggling to hold onto her feet.

“Love you”, she babbled, resting her chin on your shoulders. You pinched her round cheeks and she laughed, head wiggling to escape your teasing touches.

“And me?”, pouted Daemon, falsely looking annoyed. The little girl raised her eyes to meet his, their lilac orbits clashing. There was as much insolence in her as there was in him, he loved and encouraged it each day.

“Love you too.”, she finally spoke, tongue escaping her tiny lips in defiance. A smile tore through Daemon’s face as he scoffed, twiddling the mess of her hair.

Leaving Pentos for the first time in your life was a huge step forward for you, you only wished it wasn’t because a close friend passed away. For years you exchanged letters with Laena, she was sweet and caring, strong and loved. Daemon was obviously saddened at the news, he apprehended going back there with you and the children. Having you around all the people, some he hated, made him only grow more annoyed and anxious as you embarked for the Driftmark. He hid it but after years together you knew how to interpret each of his moods.

“Never, ever, leave my side”, he ordered before you arrived.

“Didn’t we promise that to each other?”

He smirked at your answer, you had learnt your lesson well years ago. None of you was leaving each other's sides. Never.

As you met with more and more people, family and distant friends, you were asked everywhere. Faces unknown to you, gripping at your children as you held them onto you. You smiled and pretended, but Daemon wasn’t. Apart from his close family, which were his brother, sister and niece, and a few selected friends, he was cold to everyone else, especially those who looked down upon you. You were a woman of a distant land, some treated you like an exotic good to be handled and looked at. You greeted people with politeness, speaking a few words of your land. You felt your husband's grip tighten around your waist. Digits intertwined with his, you tried to reassure him, soft smile on your lips.

During the day, Daemon was asked more than once. Everytime the men looked at you with nonchalance as you accompanied him. He walked fiercely at your side, holding you like his most loved and precious prize. But you were much more to him than that. Anyone who dared to ask you to leave you meet with the famous Dark Sister, and probably regret it.

“She stays with me.”, he husked everytime the men wanted you to leave him. Nobody dared to contest the Rogue Prince’s decision.

Gentle smile on your face, you would rather avoid a slaughter. Each time Daemon started to threaten the people that treated you too badly to his taste, you would brush his face, his shoulders, desperately trying to soothe him before he lost it. Still you were reassured he never wanted you to leave his side, this new land was making you so anxious, looking after your kids as they ran away with others, scared to lose everything you had built for years.

Later that day, your little girl couldn’t stop pulling on your dress, whining that she wanted to go and see the pets, as she called the dragons. You had seen them too, beautiful, impressive, you wanted to take her closer to them, but Daemon was lost in an important conversation. Softly you whispered to him, his eyes traveled to you and his daughter as you pointed to them. For a second he hesitated, squeezing your hand harder, but he couldn’t refuse anything his children asked. He nodded, worry in his eyes as he watched you both walk away from him, already missing your presence. His eyes never left you, smirk on his lips as his boys jumped, hands in the air to get the wyrms’ attention. He heard their laughs and yells when the impressive dragons moved around, observing your figure, bent over to hold your little girl.

“They are beautiful, Uncle.”

Daemon recognized the voice, nodding at the words. Rhaenyra moved to his side, her magnificent eyes staring in your direction.

“They are”, he murmured, eyes still fixated on you and your children, a hand on the hilt of his blade, the other empty, missing your loving warmth.

“You love her do you?”, she questioned, asking like she knew the answer.

“I love them”, Daemon corrected, smirking, “Our relationship is the most important thing in my life.”

He paused for a second, eyes closed. He hoped the wind could carry his words across the lands and seas.

“I am but a starless sky without her. Empty. Lost. Each time they shine it reminds me of her laugh, her smile, her warmth. She'll always be the spark to my void.”

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x you #fics #dubcon #**mine #What did I just wrote

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agendabymooner · 9 months

Text

own my mind || dr3 fic

daniel ricciardo x ofc (måneskin member!ofc)

prequel to the rush series

“do you wanna know what good, good, bad things all feel like?”

Summary: It took Lorelei Hester Alessandro, or Lester, almost six Italian Grand Prix races to come across Daniel Ricciardo once more. Sure, she was hesitant to speak to him regardless of the fact that she was his fan but the McLaren driver was certain he’d rather cause a stir in the F1 community with her after his win in Monza than celebrate his victory with a lot of people. OR the second close encounter between the two of them most unhinged people of F1.

Content warning: Use of explicit language, Big Ric Energy™, RBR!Daniel mentioned, alcohol consumption

Note: Self indulgent fic mostly. Make sure to catch up with the rush series or read this first before going ahead with the whole series! This is basically introduction to the relationship of Lester and Danny. enjoy xx

masterlist

2021 — PRESENT

It wasn’t everyday Lester got to value something like this wrapped around her neck like a jewelry from a parure. She supposed that being a Eurovision winner, alongside her best friends, would do that to anyone.

Because she couldn’t afford this and this was just a chance that she took — a risk. It wasn’t everyday she got to support her country’s racing team in the front row. The Paddock Club pass on her neck was a dream come true, indeed, but being a guest of Scuderia Ferrari because their driver was a fan of the band you’ve built from the ground up?

Yeah she was living THE dream. She wished that it would stay like this forever.

“Non bere troppo! È solo l'inizio della gara,” Don’t drink too much! It’s only the start of the race. Her friend Ethan stated, his slender fingers reaching for her glass as she glared at him. Lester downed the rest of her champagne.

“It’s a qualifying, idiota,” Lester rolled her eyes. “What could possibly be exciting about this?”

“I piloti che potrebbero ottenere la pole position? È eccitante, non credi?” The drivers who might get the pole position? That’s exciting, don’t you think? Damiano said. “Are you okay, Lo? You’ve been looking so foul ever since we got here today.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lester waved off, pretending as if she hadn’t come across a certain Australian who definitely paid attention to her earlier.

The fact was that he hadn’t just paid attention — he made some offhanded comments about inviting her to his driver’s room and the paddock area of McLaren. Maybe it was a bad idea to look around in awe after living your childhood dream of being known in the F1 world because even your favourite driver would want to fuck you if you looked extremely hot and adorable at the same time. She didn’t even want to see Daniel Ricciardo in that sense. She liked his driving and she made him her favourite driver of this generation.

It was a shame that was the first thing he said since 2015. Not that he remembered. But Lester certainly had.

2015

It was a good idea her boss was a close friend of the owner of the bar because she wouldn’t have found herself in this place. Where the drivers are now.

She tried to put on her best clothes — a black lacy bodysuit, leather pants and the most expensive Gucci shoes that her sister Nora had lent her for the weekend. She didn’t think to tell anyone what the brand of her clothes were as to save face in front of people who could pay her rent; the pants she wore were thrifted and the bodysuit was an off season clearance item from Victoria’s Secret. She never told anyone about it.

She barely made it to Monza because of the lack of money she had. University and being a musician did a number on her. She might as well sell her soul just to see Daniel Ricciardo in person.

Lester had gotten in touch with the owner and did the best she could to keep things low key. Her friend Thomas was the one who had taken her to the club to avoid any further trouble that could be possibly caused by her fangirl behaviour.

But it wasn’t exactly her potential freakouts that would lead her to him.

At first she didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. She was calm and collected — she apologized as much as she could and cleaned up everything she had to clean up. But then, Toro Rosso’s Max Verstappen decided to make things harder for the both of them and had gotten into a quarrel about not watching her way and how irritated he is.

“You don’t look like you could smile anyways,” said Lester as she turned away and cursed, “Insufferable bastard.”

A gasp behind her echoed through the crowded loud room. All while Lester listened to the steam coming out of Max’s ears.

“What did you call me?” Max asked angrily, but Lester was walking away. “Oi! I’m talking to you!”

“And I’m not trying to,” Lester spewed out, “I’ve seen you before. Toro Rosso right? You’ve no personality— it’s no wonder why I like Sainz over you.”

“Sec—“

“Max no,” Carlos Sainz backed up the Dutchman before turning to Lester and Thomas, who was now holding back the bassist.

“Is that why you’re always frowning? Because you can’t even smile even if someone begged you to,” Lester retaliated, making Max turn even more red.

“Security—“

“Max, what’s wrong, mate?” That voice froze Lester to the core. No way.

But her suspicion was right because by the time she turned back around, a familiar figure stood next to the Dutchman with cocktail in hand. Shit. She was picking a fight at the same room as Daniel Ricciardo.

So much for a good impression.

“She’s—“

“I’d pick your words wisely because I don’t take shit from men regardless of how well known they are,” Lester didn’t even care about the Australian person knowing that she’s got a bigger problem she called Max.

“Look, listen—“ Daniel spoke up, staring at Lester as he smiled and put a hand in front of Max. “I apologize on his behalf—“

“What—“

“I don’t obviously know what happened but I hope we can put it past us. No? This is the first time Max’s been out and he just doesn’t want to ruin his own night,” Daniel had put on his best smile and Lester could just tell that he did it to not cause any more issue within the Red Bull team.

“I’m obviously more than willing to,” Lester’s accent thickened as she glared at Max, “but that asshole’s trying to pick a fight. I cleaned up everything already!”

“And I appreciate that,” Daniel turned towards Max and Carlos, “Look, lads. Just— stay out of trouble, alright? Just walk away from the scene and act as if you hadn’t done something stupid. I’m cleaning up your mess, just walk away. Don’t hassle the lady and her friends.”

Lester continued to glare at Max. Dío mio, he was so annoying for a driver who does well, she thought. The Dutchman huffed before he walked off with Carlos Sainz. But when Daniel turned back, Lester and her friend had already walked away too. She hadn’t wanted to embarrass herself further in front of the Australian.

“Miss!” Lester had surprisingly heard his voice while the crowd remained loud, especially when she was so drawn by Toto’s girlfriend, Tilly Hearth’s presence as she spoke to the Italian girl with a grin about her newest novel. She had been a fan of Tilly ever since she entered the formula one world last year, but Daniel Ricciardo’s voice was familiar and it had her turning around.

He held his hand out with a wide grin, “Come dance with me!”

“So rude of you Daniel,” Tilly scoffed jokingly, “I’m talking to the girl.”

“It’s to make up for Max’s attitude,” Daniel winked at the Italian, making Lester blush. “Us Red Bull drivers should be acting with decorum, so it’s only fair I make it up on his behalf no?”

“I—“ Lester offered Tilly a meek smile, “Thank you for chatting. I appreciate it. Grazie, Signora Hearth.”

“Yes, of course,” the older woman waved off, “I’ll see you around, yes?”

Then her night started there and the love she had for Daniel Ricciardo strengthened. It was too bad it took her six years until she realized how shitty he could get. But it also took Daniel six years to realize that the love he could’ve had was the girl who had nearly been kicked out of the bar.

2021 — NOW

Now, Lester wasn’t a saint; she had her fair share of shittiness. She had ghosted people before, hell she even blocked some. But to be brought from Ferrari to McLaren just so Daniel Ricciardo could chat her up — years or so after blocking her — was just borderline asshole-ish of him. His cockiness radiated while he asked for her name, trying to offer her a good conversation as if she hadn’t been here before.

It was more baffling that he didn’t remember her from six years ago when he danced wildly with her after the race. But it wasn’t Lester’s place to remind him, only huffing out in annoyance and losing her faith in him as he tried inviting her to his driver's room.

“Sei fottutamente serio in questo momento?!” Are you fucking serious right now. Lester scoffed at him as Daniel’s eyes widened in shock. “Uomo stupido! Stupido, stupido, stupido uomo ingenuo!” Stupid man! Stupid, stupid, dumb naive man!

“I’m sorry, what—“

Lester glared at him before saying, “I knew coming here in this area is a mistake. I’m a fan of yours, you know? All those years ago, I thought you genuinely were kind for offering a good dance.” She pressed a finger in his chest, “But you are like all of them, Mr. Ricciardo. Inviting me to your room so you can have a good head? You. Are. Fucking. Stupid.”

“I’m inviting you to our paddock area…?”

“I am a Ferrari guest— and A PART OF TIFOSI!” Lester exclaimed. “Besides, I’m a bassist of this year’s Eurovision winner, so you’re not the only one who’s famous.”

“Lorelei—“

“I’m ABBA style popular, “Dan!” I’m not gonna fuck you for a paddock pass!” Lester’s mouth barely stopped as she muttered swear words in Italian and walked past him. That was the second time Daniel Ricciardo had witnessed some sort of confrontation with her, so when this did happen it stuck to him and realized who she was.

Another woman approached Lester for the third time today and it was beginning to bother her. The said woman wore a papaya shirt, making Lester frown lightly before the woman could ever speak. The bassist spoke as politely as she could “If this is about your driver, please don’t bother. I really do not want to cause more problems with him. He needs to focus on minding his business.”

“Daniel would really like to apologize,” the woman emphasized, “he wouldn’t shut up. We really don’t want to make a bad impression to you guys and we can’t have our drivers act so badly towards you.”

“It’s alright,” Lester waved off. It really wasn’t. It annoyed her that Daniel didn’t see her as a musician but rather a groupie. “Just… tell him to focus more on his race. He can live.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to go try and speak to him again?” Ethan asked, “You’ve always wanted to see him up close.”

“That might have been the case before but there’s a fine line between being seen as a fan and as a groupie you can take back to your drivers room,” Lester told her friends quietly. It turns out that she wasn’t as quiet as she thought, because the mouth of the woman in the papaya shirt gaped open just as she dropped the bomb.

Then the woman said, “I am so, so, so sorry for that. God, that man and his mouth— don’t worry, Miss Allie, he is getting an earful after the qualifying and we’ll make sure he’s going to— God! Sorry, I’ve to go see him. I’ll touch base with your manager before you leave tomorrow after the race. Is that okay? Good. Enjoy the race, Miss Allie, Misters David, Raggi and Torchio.”

Lester turned back to her friends with a confused frown, which was met with their own reactions once that the woman sped away. She mumbled, “So weird. It’s really not a big deal.”

“It is,” Damiano replied, “especially if that’s how they reacted. Anyone wouldn’t have cared much so clearly your issue with Daniel is a big deal.”

Thomas: We’re partying with the drivers tomorrow. Charles Leclerc invited us.

Lester: Awesome I guess.

Maybe a part of her was still a fan of the Honey Badger. She couldn’t fathom telling him that though, still feeling humiliated by the way she reacted and how he perceived her yesterday.

All she could do was stare up at him as he celebrated his Monza win as his champagne bottle sprinkled on his fellow podium mates. Everyone celebrated him despite the disappointment of Ferrari not being in the P1 position. Everyone celebrated Daniel Ricciardo because he’s still Daniel Ricciardo.

The way he stuck his tongue out while the champagne rained over the audience below the podium did a number on Lester as her pupils had blown in excitement and… lust? She wasn’t sure.

She felt something when his dark eyes glossed over hers and stopped looking around altogether. His grin remained on his face, but he was a man with a plan to apologize eventually.

Sprinklings of the alcohol soaked her blazer partially as her friends finally made their way to the garages to check on the drivers. They spoke to Charles and Carlos once more and thanked the duo for a good race. Her mind was still elsewhere when she spoke to the two, her eyes scanning the pit lane to catch a glimpse of the Australian.

No luck. But she wasn’t actively seeking him nor should she do anything about him.

Her pinstripe waistcoats hugged her figure tightly alongside the flared pants that matched the fabric of her top, collars popping off as her petite body emphasized every single curve that she had. The boots that she wore increased the possibilities of being seen by the winner, but she didn’t think to care that much about him.

She thanked her footwear and her dark red lips for catching his attention, though.

Daniel Ricciardo was keen on celebrating his win with his peers. He opted for cocktails at first, but then the dance floor called for hard liquor for courage as he finally placed his glass down and walked towards the bassist.

“Miss Alessandro!” The bassist, who already took her first drink, turned around to face Daniel Ricciardo. For someone who claimed to be a big fan of his, she didn’t think to care for him now— and he liked that about her. She wasn’t intimidated and she was more confident after painting her lips blood red.

“Ah! Signor Ricciardo,” Lester smirked lazily, not even making it less obvious that she was taking his presence in slowly as she spoke, “Hai fatto bene nella tua gara. Congratulazioni.” You did well on your race. Congratulations.

Her Italian accent left him stammering a little as he lost his mind at how sultry it was. “A- ah yes. Personally- I don’t speak Italian- I’m half but I don’t speak it. But I can understand the congratulations part- so thank you.”

“Hm,” she eyed him up and down before sipping on her champagne. The fact that she looked away somehow bothered him. He wasn’t sure if it was his ego or her attention— he was just bothered that she wouldn’t pay attention to him.

But he was good at mind games too. Well… that’s if she was playing it. “Listen, have I ever told you that you’ve the Italian charm that my Dad used to tell me about?”

“Really?” Lester giggled, not because of how Daniel worded it. She was laughing at the fact that of all the things he could’ve went with, he went with this.

“My Mum used to tell me that’s how Dad fell for her,” Daniel smirked, now sitting next to her before he spoke to the bartender about the champagne they had for him. “How about I tell you more about it?”

“Well… considering how you’ve treated me a few days ago, I don’t think it’s the Italian charm that kept you going,” Lester leaned over, her lips nearing his ear as she whispered, “You know what I think? It must’ve been the adrenaline and ego of a talented driver that told you to chase after me. Sad to say, I’m not the one night stand kind. I don’t even like parties like these— I’d rather be drinking alone but what else can a woman do?”

She hadn’t even seen the bartender approach the two as she stood, her tipsy face sobering up as she grabbed her purse. But just as she turned down the chance of standing too close to her favourite driver, Daniel pulled her back by the wrist as he offered her a pleading look.

“Look, I’m sorry I left a bad impression on you the other day,” those words definitely sobered her up. Daniel said through a wild loud crowd, “I was just hoping for some one-on-one time with you but clearly that didn’t work out.”

“You worded it as if I wanted to fuck,” Lester pointed out.

“I know, I know,” Daniel told her guiltily before admitting, “it was wrong— like really, really wrong. My PR manager wasn’t joking when she said I wanted to apologize yesterday.”

She stopped fighting against the restraint he had of her, standing there dumbfounded as she said, “Wow… uh… okay. Thank you for apologizing.”

“And uh,” he scratched his head as he gestured at the full bottle of champagne in front of them, “if you’d like we can finish this whole bottle together? No, no funny intention— I swear to you. We’d have more privacy in the hotel and we’ll have a decent champagne tasting experience. You won’t have to deal with anything. Just let me make it up to you.”

She stared at him for the moment. At first she was hesitant; this was Daniel Ricciardo— HER favourite driver Daniel Ricciardo. All those years of being a formula one fan taught her enough about him and how to love him, so to see him up close? This was a dream and a joke.

After all, he did block her back when she’d spam tweet him. She didn’t obviously blame him for that; but he was still Daniel Ricciardo. He was world famous.

But then again, in Europe and possibly around the world, she too was popular. What did she have to lose? She wanted to know what good and bad things felt like when they’re mixed together.

“Sure,” she beamed, making his eyes light up in joy as he stood excitedly. “I’d like to get to know you as Daniel.”

“I hope you have some stories to tell,” Daniel said, “because I’ve been wondering who Lester is ever since she came to the paddock.”

“Lorelei,” she introduced herself, “or Lori. Lester’s just for the music and concerts. If you want to know who I am then I’m Lori.”

“Good, then call me Danny.”

This wasn’t the kind of bad and good thing that she expected.

Waking up next to him definitely felt great, with her manicured nails trailing down his bare chest as she slowly woke up from her slumber. His soft breathing was peaceful. Fuck that felt great.

Her eyes’ insistence to stay shut definitely hadn’t helped her as she groaned quietly. The sunlight that passed through the blinds called for her awakened presence. She had an incoming headache. This was bad.

No… waking up next to Daniel Ricciardo naked was. But just as she opened her eyes wide and looked down, the sigh of relief escaped her mouth. She didn’t have sex with him.

“Mmmm… ‘m just half naked,” he murmured, not even looking at her as he kept his eyes shut, “we didn’t… no I’d never do that to you…”

“Oh,” she said softly, but her voice was raspy as she slowly sat up and looked at him while she nodded to herself, “Good… we didn’t have sex. Good.”

His phone was blowing up for god knows how long now, and with her phone, at 21% charge, going off as well she’d never been this annoyed with waking up until now. She wanted to throw her phone so bad if it hadn’t been for her twitter going off.

Endless texts came from Damiano, Thomas and Ethan as they begged her to answer or check her twitter.

She understood why they were like that. It wasn’t everyday she got to see herself posing lewdly — but not naked — in front of a camera while drunk. No wait— she never got to see herself pose like that on Daniel Ricciardo’s twitter page.

“Oh fuck…” she muttered, running her red nails through her hair as she shook Daniel awake. “Ricciardo, wake up.”

“Hm?” His eyes opened for a moment to read the tweet on her screen before drifting off. But the realization nearly had his eyes popping out as he sat up, “Shit!”

“Look, I really don’t like the thought of causing more scandal for you… or me,” Daniel finally gathered his thoughts after he had a long conversation with his PR manager and Lester’s own. He had freshened up and gave Lester some spare clothes, shying away from her after the embarrassing incident of tweeting while drunk last night.

His meekness, however, was something of an amusement for Lester as she continued to chuckle quietly. The Daniel Ricciardo that Lester had seen on TV was the cocky and funnily confident one — so seeing this version of him was some sort of an honour, if you would ask her.

He continued, “And after all of this I don’t think you’d want to see the guy who made your career miserable but seriously I’m sorry—“

“Why wouldn’t I want to see you again?” Lester cut him off with a cheeky smile, “after all, we have to figure out how to get back to the graces of your fans and mine, no? What’s better than to do it together?”

Daniel, for the third time, was rendered silent. God, she was so divine.

“So… what do you think?”

“About… OH! Shit, yes,” Daniel cursed underneath his breath, making the Italian woman giggle loudly as he said, “Would you like to meet me sometime next week? I’ve got accommodation in Monaco. I'd really kill for a… date. With you.”

“So not just for PR reasons?” She raised a brow in amusement.

“Definitely not,” Daniel shook his head. “I think I haven’t won fully until you say y—“

“Yes, that sounds good,” Lester exclaimed as she beamed heavily. “A date it is.”

He beamed back, “Good. I… Shit. Sorry— I’ll make sure you won’t be disappointed with me, Lori.”

“And I look forward to it, Danny.”

Good God.

She was what good and bad things felt like altogether.

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claymorexpunisher · 10 months

Text

Voices Like Honey (18+ One Shot)

Pairing(s): Fem Reader/Damian Priest/Roman Reigns

Summary: Reader enters Liberacion looking for stress relief and light smut ensues.

Tags/TWs: 18+, acousticophilia, voyeurism, praise and humiliation kink(if you blink), first time kinkster, consensual kink, Liberacion AU.

DISCLAIMER: This is NSFW. If that's not your thing, keep scrolling. I try my best to tag things accordingly so use your own discretion when reading my work.

Word Count: 628

Acousticophilia- sexual arousal by sound or music.

Voyeurism: the practice of gaining sexual pleasure from watching others when they are naked or engaged in sexual activity.

There were butterflies running rampant in my stomach from the second I set foot through the doors of the hottest BDSM and Kink club in town, Liberacion, and all throughout the moment I was guided into one of the tastefully decorated rooms in the club that I had rented for the night.

I knew the basics of what was about to happen but still, my heart pounded in my chest.

I was to lay down on the bed and when the light above the bedroom door turned green, I was to grab the phone placed on the bedside table. I was promised that the men who would greet me on the other line were specifically handpicked for my specific desires and that both men were watching my every move from the room next door. And I was assured that I wouldn’t be disappointed…

As the seconds ticked by, the anticipation began to climb as did my arousal. I pressed my thighs together as my sensitive clit began to throb at just the thought of what was to come.

I had never done anything like this before and I was kind of grateful that I was actually approached by the owner of the club who just happens to be a witch. She didn’t do it in a creepy way, but it was clear to her that I wasn’t going to take the reins of my pleasure myself.

The second the light turned green, I felt a flicker of uncertainty, but I moved past it and I picked up the phone…

“Hola, hermosa…”I heard a man purr through the phone.

“You ready for us, babygirl?” I heard another man say. Both men had voices that felt like butter and warm smoke that kissed my entire body.

Fuck. I knew I wasn’t gonna last very long… but cumming right this very second would be incredibly embarrassing. And such a waste. No, I… I wanted to savor this for as long as I could.

Or, for as long as I had paid for, really.

“Y-yes.” I responded, my voice breathy to my own ears. My chest heaved up and down softly as I let the deep and melodic tones of the strange men’s voices wash over me.

“We can see that, beautiful.” One of the men chuckled huskily again and my entire body came alive. Unable to resist, I slowly brought one of my hands down between my legs and I rubbed the sensitive little nub filled with nerves that was crying out for attention.

“There ya go, muñequita. Good girl… look at you, giving us a show.” One of the two men said through a rumbling chuckle.. I could only guess he was Puerto Rican and my back nearly arched off the bed as his voice hit my ears once again. I couldn’t do anything more than whimper in response as the pads of my fingers rubbed along my wet folds and swirled over my clit again and again until my thighs began to tremble.

“We’ve already started and you’re already close, uh, babygirl?” The other man said, light amusement coloring his voice.

God I could barely see straight… holy shit why hadn’t I done this sooner?!

“Mierda, it’s a shame this is only a phone call… slide those pretty fingers inside you, hermosa.”

“Yeah, cum for us, baby. We know you want to.”

I was practically riding my hand at this point, whatever hesitations I felt initially, had melted away the more these men's voices went on and intermingled to create a beautiful melody that brought me closer and closer to the stars…

#roman reigns #damian priest #roman reigns x fem reader x damian priest #damian priest x female reader #roman reigns x female reader #liberacion au #wwe fic #wwe smut #wrestling fic #wrestling fan fiction #roman reigns smut #damian priest smut #roman reigns fic #roman reigns fanfiction #damian priest fanfic #Damian priest fanfiction

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dreamlandreader · 4 months

Text

Teddy Bear’s Picnic

When Feyre and Rhysand are called into an emergency meeting, it is left to Elain to look after baby Nyx. But, when the Night Court heir won't stop crying Elain may have to ask for help from an unexpected source.

Masterlist

Pairing: Elain x Lucien Content Warnings: N/A Word Count: 2936 Words

I'm very excited to share my first ever Elucien fic for day one of @sjmromanceweek (even if it is a couple of days late ... oops)🌸 I got this idea from the prompt 'First Date' and knew immediately I wanted to write about the (unofficial) first date of Elain and Lucien. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it 💗

The warm interior of the River House stood unusually still. Tiny specs of dust danced in the sunlight streaming through the windows, undisturbed by the house's vacant halls. The ordinarily bustling hub of the inner circle had emptied abruptly an hour prior after an unexpected and hastily written letter caused panic, and left the occupants with no choice but to leave the sanctuary of their home.

The stark silence that lingered over the property, however, had not befallen the gardens, where a flustered Elain Archeron was teetering on the brink of tears as she rocked her bawling nephew back and forth, fat tears rolling down his pudgy cheeks.

“Shh, come now sweet, there’s no need to cry,” Elain whispered to the babe, who paid no attention to her words and let out another piercing scream.

Nyx had begun to sob the second his mother winnowed away and had barely stopped to take a breath in the hour that had passed. Feyre had been incredibly concerned about leaving her son, who had been clinging to his mother more and more in the month since he had started teething. Had Tarquin’s letter not been scrawled so urgently, then Feyre would not have second-guessed staying home with her little boy, but the request had asked for both the High Lord and Lady, and his plea was too desperate to ignore.

“Please stop crying Nyxie. Mama will be home soon,” Elain whispered, bouncing the baby gently in her arms again like she had seen Feyre do so many times before to calm him instantly. Much to Elain’s dismay, the poor babe continued to cry, his tiny whimpers enough to crack even the most icy of hearts.

As the only family member not working within the inner circle, Elain had become the designated babysitter for her tiny nephew, a role which she was thrilled to take on. She had been offered a place within the inner circle, harnessing her seer powers and working with Azriel on intel, but she had gracefully declined. Whilst she appreciated the offer, Elain had never desired a life filled with politics and action. Feyre and Nesta had always been the firey ones, destined for big things, but Elain had always wished for a gentle, quiet life. So she was thrilled when her sisters supported her in opening a flower shop in the lively market at the heart of Velaris.

The shop had brought her such joy whilst she was still trying to heal from the trauma of the last few years, and it had even allowed her to explore Prythian. Rhysand had been able to put her in contact with florists from various courts who, after some enthusiastic correspondence, had invited her to see the beauty of their courts for herself. So far, Elain had visited the bright sunflower fields of the Day Court, witnessed the blooming of the cherry blossoms in the Dawn Court and spent hours roaming the endlessly stunning gardens of the Spring Court.

Nyx let out another heartbreaking cry, and a guttural sob escaped Elain as she sat on her knees in the grass and cried alongside her nephew.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know what to do,” Elain sniffled. She had tried everything; bouncing, singing, dancing, tickling, reading, swaddling, cuddling, but nothing would work. She felt like a failure.

When Nyx was born, the three Archeron sisters had agreed that no matter what, the tiny babe would never experience an ounce of the pain they felt through their childhood. They had long since begun to stitch the wounds of their past and had many a tearful conversation to clear the air about the toxic years they spent trapped within the four walls of their dilapidated home. Despite this, Elain still carried a kernel of guilt for allowing herself to be shielded and ignorant from the worries of her younger sister for so long. She was determined she would no longer be the one her sisters had to hide their fears or anxieties from, she wanted to be there for them and her nephew. Which was why Elain had taken her inability to comfort poor Nyx so personally.

Just as Elain was considering calling on Madja and asking if there was a rare fae illness going around that caused non-stop crying, she heard the door to the garden creek open and determined footsteps leading down the garden path.

“Feyre!” She exclaimed, standing quickly as she twisted to face her sister, but it was not Feyre who stared back at her, but Lucien Vanserra - her mate.

“A-are you okay? I came to see Feyre, but the house was empty, and then I heard crying. When I saw you on the floor, I- I thought something must have happened,” he stumbled, concern contorting his face.

Elain felt a twinge of guilt at Lucien’s evident nerves. She hated that he thought he had to justify visiting his friend because of her discomfort in their bond. Still, she couldn’t swallow the anxious butterflies that floated up from her stomach and clogged her throat whenever he was around. Elain had thought about approaching Lucien now that she was feeling more settled in her fae life, to see if there was anything there, and so that they could both move on if there wasn’t. However, something stopped her every time.

Elaine’s nerves were abruptly overshadowed when Nyx let out another piercing scream.

“He won’t stop. I’ve tried everything, but I can’t calm him down. I’m the worst Aunty ever,” Elain bawled, thrusting the babe towards Lucien, who gently took Nyx from her arms, hardening his face to avoid giving away the fact that the brush of her hand against his had ignited his skin.

“Elain, you are not the worst Aunty. You are the most dedicated Aunt I’ve ever met. You should hear Feyre and Rhys singing your praises every time they get a spare five minutes for a coffee because you’ve taken Nyx for the afternoon,” Lucien said, shouting slightly over the squawking child.

“Maybe you just need to try a different tactic? When I was a child and I wouldn’t settle, my mother would try to surprise me with something outside of my daily routine, and the curiosity of it would make me forget whatever had upset me,”

“I- I don’t really know. He just wants Feyre. I wouldn’t even know what to try,” Elain sniffled.

Lucien looked out at the beautiful gardens and was struck with an idea. The organised floral designs close to the River House gave way to patches of wildflowers and rolling hills surrounded by cosy meadows and orchards. It was the perfect setting for his plan.

“I have an idea. Take Nyx inside for a few minutes, and when I’m ready, I’ll call you out,” he said, placing the babe back into Elain’s arms.

“What? But-”

“I need you to trust me, okay?” Lucien’s eyes were so sincere, even if it did feel like his gaze was burrowing into Elain’s soul.

“Okay,” she whispered before turning on her heel and returning to the house.

Ten minutes later, and breathless from running back and forth into the River House, Lucien called Elain out to the garden.

A pale blue gingham blanket had been carefully strewn across the floor, surrounded by a sweeping carpet of cornflowers. Plush cushions skirted the border of the blanket, and a row of Nyx’s most loved teddy bears sat in a line, staring at the buttered scones, chocolate-covered strawberries and an ornate tea set.

“What is this?” Elain questioned, still bouncing a mewling Nyx.

“A teddy bear’s picnic,” Lucien announced proudly, opening his arms wide, a lopsided grin gracing his lovely face.

Elain cautiously walked towards the edge of the blanket, popping Nyx next to his toys before gracefully sitting beside him.

Like a miracle had washed over the scene, Nyx’s cries faltered as he crawled towards the nearest bear. A minute later, he had fallen completely silent as he stuffed the poor bear’s paw in his mouth and began to chew.

“It worked,” Elain whispered, wide-eyed, a grin taking over her delicate face as she looked up in awe at Lucien.

“You aren’t joining us?”

“Oh, I thought now he’s settled that you may want some peace and quiet,” Lucien suggested nervously, the awkwardness seeping back into the air around them now that the babe had been calmed.

For a moment, Lucien and Elain merely stared into each other’s eyes, neither one brave enough to break the silence that had settled, until Lucien bowed and suggested it was time for him to take his leave, turning back towards the house. He had taken only two steps before Elain’s voice rang out behind him.

“Stay. Please,” His heart was beating so hard that he wouldn’t be shocked if it had burst out of his chest and fallen before the woman it so clearly belonged to. In the time since their bond had been revealed, Elain had never once asked to spend time with him or shown any interest in his presence. He thought he may be sick from the anticipation, hope clenching in his stomach.

Sitting down next to Elain, he ran his sweaty palms down his breeches and searched desperately for something to say to ease the tension.

“I’m presuming the tea was not for the six-month-old,” Elain said, beating Lucien to it.

“No,” he laughed. “I thought, given how upset you were, that you deserved something nice too,”

“That’s very kind, Lucien, thank you,” She blushed, looking over at Nyx, who was happily babbling away to himself.

Lucien took the opportunity to drink Elain in. She was all soft lines and gentle curves, radiating such warmth and sunlight that the mere thought of her embrace gave Lucien goosebumps.

“Would you like some?” Elain asked, breaking Lucien’s reverie by pouring herself a cup of lavender and chamomile tea.

“Please,” he replied, clearing his throat, the look she gave him making his mouth instantly dry.

Elain was having much the same trouble. Her breath hitched as she watched Lucien pick up a strawberry, his lips wrapping around the fruit and his tongue cleaning his mouth of the lingering juices, sending a flash of heat between her legs. She had never taken the time to truly admire him before. And that was what it meant to look at Lucien, to admire. He was beautiful, and Elain was suddenly struck by how strange it was that Feyre, knowing this male for years, had not made him the sole focus of every painting she had created to date.

“I think Feyre and Rhys will want you to live here if they find out you can work your magic like this,” Elain said, looking pointedly away from Lucien and towards the little boy, now fast asleep.

“Oh no, it was nothing,” Lucien retorted, waving his hand as though his help was no big deal. “He probably tired himself out with all that crying, and the sight of his bears managed to calm him down for long enough that he fell asleep,”

“Either way, I’m incredibly grateful,” Elain tapered off, filling the silence with a sip from her tea. She had to say it now. It was the perfect opportunity. She just needed to get it out before this moment passed.

“So -,” Lucien started, interrupted almost immediately.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” Elain blurted out, eyes wide in almost as much shock as the male before her.

“Oh?”

“About the- about the bond,”

Lucien’s heart dropped as he steeled himself, preparing for the blow, for the decision he had known was coming for a long time.

“When you first revealed the bond to me, I wasn’t in a good place,” Lucien met Elain’s eyes and took in the sorrow that filled them.

“Nesta and I had just been turned into the creatures we’d feared our entire lives. I was in a new body, a new land. Feyre had been taken away from us again and put into another dangerous situation. I’d lost everything I’d ever known. The future I saw for myself had been ripped away one minute, and then I’m being told fate, or the Mother, or whoever has decided on a new future for me. One with a male who I did not know,”

“I’m sorry. I should have handled the situation far more delicately than I did,” Lucien sighed, rubbing his calloused hand over his face before continuing.

“For such a long time, I thought it impossible I would ever find a mate, and the shock I had at that moment meant it slipped from my mouth before I could think. I regretted immediately revealing it the way I did. I was paralysed by fear that I had let it slip with an evil bastard like Hybern in the room,” he shakes his head, despair taking over his eyes. “I guess I just lost my head, and once it was out, I couldn’t take it back.

Elain slowly nodded, taking in what Lucien had so vulnerably revealed, and reached over to gently clasp his hand.

“After everything that happened, I lost myself entirely. I know I hurt you by refusing to meet with you, by ignoring your existence. Things were bad, and I was in a dark hole I couldn’t find my way out of,”

“I understand Elain, you’ve no need to explain yourself,”

“No, I do,” She said, taking a deep breath.

“I’m at a point now where things are looking up again. I finally feel that I’ve found my place here. I feel my family is happier than- well than we’ve ever been actually, and for the first time, I actually know who I am and what I want,”

Here it was. Lucien closed his eyes, begging his resolve to stay intact until he was alone, where he could mourn what might have been in privacy.

“I know I would like to give this a chance,”

“What?” Lucien’s eyes flew open, taking in Elain for any sign that this was a cruel joke, but she looked back at him with such soft sincerity that he was utterly lost for words.

“I’m not promising anything. I don’t want either of us tied to one another just because of a bond. If anything comes from this, I want it to be because we both want it,”

Lucien nods, still in shock.

“But, I would like to get to know you, Lucien. Not just the stories my sister tells me or the small glimpses I’ve had at family dinners where we are surrounded by people, but to really get to know you in our own time. Because I have seen my sisters and how happy their mates have made them, and I am ready to let some of that light into my life, too. If you are willing, of course?”

“Yes!” He radiated. “Yes, I would love that,”

“So, maybe we can start with a date?” Elain suggested, a rosy blush colouring her cheeks.

“Yes. That would be perfect,”

“Good,” She smiled. “Although with this lovely set-up, this does sort of feel like an unofficial first date,”

“Oh no,” Lucien beams, “Our first date will be much more spectacular than a picnic in your sister’s back garden, don’t you worry,”

"I can't wait", Elain laughed, and the joy in her voice made Lucien's heart ache with delight.

After half an hour of tentative conversations and shy smiles, Elain decided it was time to put Nyx to bed.

"You take him in. I'll clean this up," Lucien offered as Elain scooped the sleepy baby into her arms and walked towards the house.

By the time Elain made it to the stairs, Feyre and Rhysand were trailing through the front door, exhaustion lining their faces. The High Lord walked right up to Elain and, thanking her, took his son into his arms, a quiet calm washing over his body as he walked slowly up the stairs to Nyx's room.

Feyre, smiling at the sweet scene, hung up her coat and let out a sigh.

"Thank Gods, it was a false alarm. Tarquin got some false information about Beron-"

Feyre stops, raising her brow as she looks at her sister's face.

"Why do you look like that?" Feyre asked, a suspicious glint in her eye.

"Like what?"

"All glowy and happy,"

Elain rolled her eyes, feigning annoyance, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "I'm not allowed to look happy now?"

"Of course you are! But something weird is going on. I can sense it,"

Elain opened her mouth, ready to retort, when Lucien walked through the door, a bright smile taking over his face.

"Oh, hey Feyre," he said, stopping in his tracks, looking like a deer in headlights. "I was just here to return that book Rhys lent me. I left it on the kitchen counter!"

Lucien looked shifty as hell, and Feyre could only laugh and look pointedly at her sister.

“Well, I best be going. Later Feyre. Goodbye, Elain,” Lucien blurted quickly, dipping his head and swiftly taking his leave.

“What in the Mother’s name was that!” Feyre burst out the second Lucien had disappeared behind the front door.

“Nothing,” Elain replied, walking towards the living room, desperate to escape her sister’s questions.

“Elain Archeron, don’t you dare lie to me in my own home,” Feyre joked, chasing after her.

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll call for Nesta,” Feyre sang.

Elain glared daggers at her little sister before sighing, resigning herself to the interrogation she knew she was about to receive.

“Urgh, fine, just call her. I’ll tell you everything. But grab a bottle of wine before we start!”

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #elain x lucien #elain acheron #lucien vanserra #elucien #sjmromanceweek2024

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in-my-feels-probably · 1 year

Note

Hi! Can i ask a request for Aemond, where him and reader have a little daughter and after Lucerys death Daemon sends cheese and blood to kill the baby but in the end they fail, pure comfort/protective Aemond in the end with him being relieved but scared and not wanting to keep his eye off of his daughter

Lucky, Indeed

Request: Hi! Can i ask a request for Aemond, where him and reader have a little daughter and after Lucerys death Daemon sends cheese and blood to kill the baby but in the end they fail, pure comfort/protective Aemond in the end with him being relieved but scared and not wanting to keep his eye off of his daughter

Hi! Sorry it took me a bit to get to this request, thank you for sending it in. I love this idea. I’m team Black, but I love a good angst story, and I love Aemond, so it works out. Honestly, it’s hard to even pick a side, when something as terrible as Blood and Cheese happened. Anyway, that’s beside the point. This is my first Aemond request in a while, so hopefully it isn’t too rusty. I hope you like it, enjoy!

Also, for anyone who wants a full length Aemond fic, I have an Aemond x OC (Aelora Velaryon) that is currently a prologue and six chapters long, about 23K words currently. It’s loosely based off of my fic I wrote for Aemond called Doomsday, which you can find on my masterlist. You also can find the fic that’s in progress there, it’s called We’re Burned For Better. It’s on here, wattpad, and ao3, for anyone who wants to read it on their preferred platform. There’s more info about it on my masterlist if you’re interested!

(Warnings: swearing, blood and cheese, mentions of gore, blood, vague mentions of assault, violence, death, grief, trauma, let me know if i missed anything)

—

After Aegon had been crowned King, Aemond was instructed to give word to the key Lords of the realm, asking that they bend the knee in return for the right price being paid for their fealty. You, being married to Aemond, had to stand by his side as his wife. You couldn’t object, or voice your opinions.

You had to hold your tongue, while the realm waited to see what the fate of House Targaryen would be.

That is not to say you entirely approved of the actions the Green’s committed after the death of King Viserys. But it was not your House to meddle in, nor your right to do so. You instead had to wait for your husband’s return, praying that he’d come back with good news.

When Aemond left on Vhagar to treat with Lord Borros Baratheon, your daughter had just turned two. You were left behind with her, little Saera, who had been named after her predecessor.

It is said that the former’s first word was “no,” which amused Aemond to no end. She was said to be clever, spirited, and fierce, yet neglected by her parents. The Maester’s recorded that because she was the ninth born child, her siblings came at a higher priority to the King and Queen.

A feeling Aemond was not unaccustomed to, he himself having been born the second son to King Viserys, who had hoped and prayed for his first boy. By the time Aemond came, the excitement and magic of finally having a son had worn off.

Knowing all too well what it was like to feel unwanted by your parents, Aemond decreed the day Saera was born that she would never know the feeling. She’d only know love and attentiveness, things you and Aemond were happy enough to give her. Aemond had been worried about becoming a father, that was clear enough to you during your pregnancy. But his worries faded away when he caught his first glimpse of her, his heart swelling at the sight.

The two had become inseparable since then.

You often had to come fetch her out of her father’s lap during meetings, scolding him when you’d find the pair of them mucking about in the courtyard, Saera resting atop his shoulders. Where he went, she followed. It was quite a sight to see. The mighty Aemond Targaryen…stone faced and stoic…with a little girl barely out of cloth diapers, teetering behind him as she giggled, following along.

Aemond had never spent more than a few days away from Saera, nor you, since the time you delivered her. Now, he had been charged with a task by his King and the Hand, one of which he had to obey and follow.

It has been days since he bid you both goodbye, and you anxiously awaited his return.

Knowing Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon, they would never forfeit the crown. Not after the events that led to Aegon being crowned in the first place. They would never bend the knee, especially to a believed to be usurper.

While Daemon may be quick to anger, however, you knew that Rhaenyra was not. She would act in the interest of the realm, not on her own ambition. It was a shame she had the throne stolen out from under her.

She’d make for a good Queen.

For now, you had to wait, and hope, and pray that the rift between the family was somehow mendable. That the war would somehow be over before it started, and no lives would be lost. It was foolish hopes, you knew.

You understood just how naive you’d been, the day Aemond returned from Storm’s End.

Vhagar had been spotted in the skies, and Ser Criston had sent word to you, giving you little time to prepare. A handmaiden had just come to take Saera for her bath, leaving you alone to pace back and forth in your chambers. Before long, the door was flung open, and your husband burst in.

Aemond looked as if he’d seen a ghost, and was certainly as pale as one.

He reached for you with shaky hands, wide eyed, and you quickly moved to his side. You gripped his hands in yours, making him look you in the eye.

“What is it? What has happened?”

Aemond looked like he was going to be sick, and he fell to his knees. You looked down at him in shock, quickly dropping to your knees, scrambling to keep him steady. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, groaning. You hurriedly batted his hands away from his eyes, cradling his face in your palms.

“Aemond? What has happened, you must tell me.”

He looked at you in despair, shaking his head.

“Lucerys is dead.”

You gasped, pulling your hands away from his face to steady yourself, lowering yourself all the way to the floor.

“What?”

“Lucerys Velaryon is dead,” he confirmed, putting a permanent pit in your stomach. “Vhagar killed him.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “That can’t be. Aemond, tell me that this is nothing but a cruel joke.”

“It isn’t, Y/N. I couldn’t stop her. Vhagar went after Arrax, she wouldn’t listen to me. Lucerys is gone.”

You covered your mouth with your hand, willing yourself not to be sick. You shakily stood, clutching your hands to your stomach. “Aemond, I can’t…”

Oh Gods, you thought. Rhaenyra. She was probably mad with grief, the poor girl.

He stood up and held onto your forearms, keeping you still. “It will be alright.”

“It won't!” You countered, fighting the tears welling in your eyes. “Luke is a child. Rhaenyra’s child. Her baby boy is dead, she’ll have our heads for this!”

“She won’t–”

“You can’t promise that! Do you truly think there will be no consequences for the death of one of her children? If it were the other way around, if they were the cause of Saera’s death, or one of Helaena’s children…would we not retaliate? Daemon is by her side, Aemond. He won’t let this go, that I can promise you.”

Aemond brought you into his arms, cradling your head into his chest. “I’ll keep you and Saera safe. That, I can promise you. I’m not going anywhere.”

“We have to tell your mother and Aegon,” you said softly, muffled into his shoulder.

You wrapped your arms tight around his waist, clinging to your husband. Maybe, you thought, if you shielded your eyes in his chest, he’d be able to shield you from whatever may come that would harm you.

You felt him nod.

“We will.”

—

In the days that followed, you walked on eggshells around the Keep. You worried for you and your family, as well as Helaena and her children. You worried for the people of King’s Landing, who were not equipped for a siege. The city was on high alert, preparing for the imminent war.

You half expected Rhaenyra to come on dragonback herself, burning the city down in a fiery rage that would consume you all.

But she didn’t.

You spent days on edge, waiting for her first attack. The ships that docked were showing up with less and less imports, which meant she was planning to cut off some of your supplies. But that was the only retaliation she sent your way. No consequences for the death of her son were met by her justice. You waited anxiously for the day Rhaenyra would return to collect her debt of the life you now owed her.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months. There was no sign of the Black’s or their army, except for one letter Aegon received from Dragonstone a month after the death of Lucerys. It read,

“Lucerys Velaryon will be avenged. You owe My Queen a debt. I will see to it that it is paid in full. Count your days, and live them well…the next may be your last.” – Daemon Targaryen

When Aegon called you, his family, and the war council to the Throne Room to read it aloud, you had to excuse yourself. You hurried out of the room, barely making it into a side corridor before retching onto the floor. A handmaiden had followed you out, leaving your side before returning momentarily with Aemond hot on her heels.

“Come, my love,” he said, securing his arm around your waist. “Let’s get you to our chambers, hmm?”

That night, you didn’t let Aemond or Saera out of your sight. The rest of the family did the same, keeping themselves heavily guarded and close together.

But within the month, nothing had changed. No one had come. More ships arrived in volume to the harbor in the same month, and it seemed as if Rhaenyra had pulled back her fleet from stopping the supply chain. Another month passed, and nothing happened. The city slowly went back to normal, the ports as well.

You weren’t sure how, but you and the family slowly forgot about the events of the previous months. It was always looming in the back of your minds, that was true enough. But it was no longer your main concern, as you all had begun busying yourselves with other tasks.

It was almost pleasant, spending so much time with Aemond and your daughter every day. The city was still warm, it had yet to succumb to the cold of winter. If you tried hard enough, you could keep yourself from thinking of the real reason why you had been given this time with your family.

But sure enough, your luck ended.

At the time, you didn’t know who the assassins were. You had come to know in the days that followed. Their aliases were all that was known about the two men, except for their occupations.

Blood was a butcher. He was once a member of the City Watch, but he lost his gold cloak for beating a woman employed by a pleasure house to death while drunk and rageful. Cheese was a ratcatcher, extremely knowledgeable of the hidden tunnels of the Red Keep. They were employed by Mysaria, the White Worm, who was employed by Daemon.

A promise was a promise, and the Black’s had promised you a death. In the last quarter of the fourth month after Lucerys’s death, Blood and Cheese had come to collect.

It was near dusk, and Aemond was still in a meeting. He had been given more duties upon Aegon’s coronation, and he tended to get caught running late into the evenings with the council.

It was of no consequence to you. He had spent all day with you and Saera, like he did most days. A few days here and there that he was a little late returning to your chambers in the evening, it was the price you were willing to pay to get him all to yourselves during the day.

You were well occupied as well, bouncing Saera on your hip while walking around your room, trying to tire her out so that she’d sleep through the night.

When she finally calmed, you placed her down in her cradle. She immediately curled up under her covers, making you smile. You walked around the room, closing all the shutters and blowing out all of the candles, before heading to the connecting room to change into your evening clothes.

You undressed and redressed quickly, feeling quite tired yourself.

When you stepped back into the room, the shutter that you had just closed was open. Confused, you walked over to peer out the window, before reshuttering it again. You figured the wind had blown it open. It was nearing winter, after all.

Still, it chilled the room.

You decided to inform the guard posted outside your door, who would pass on the information in the morning to someone who could come and fix it. You sighed, walking over to your chamber door and quietly opening it.

“Ser, if you could–”

The words died on your tongue as you looked down in horror to see your guard crumpled on the floor, his neck snapped.

You opened your mouth to scream, but it was quickly covered by a large hand, one that hastily pulled you back into your room.

“Make a sound and I slit your throat. Don’t test me,” you heard in your ear, making you shakily nod.

You heard the door latch behind you, and felt a blade placed at the base of your throat. A man, seemingly much smaller than the one holding you captive, rushed over to Saera’s cradle, picking her up.

“No, please–”

“Shut your mouth. Another word before we speak and you’ll face a fate much worse than death. Scream for help, and I promise that your daughter will be dead before anyone can even reach the door.”

Tears sprung in your eyes as you watched the man cradle your daughter, who had yet to wake up. You kept your voices low.

“I’m Blood,” the man said into your ear, letting you go but keeping the knife pointed at you as he blocked the door. “That’s Cheese.”

“Why are you here?”

Blood smiled, his grin making your stomach turn. “We’re debt collectors. An eye for an eye, a son for a son…or a daughter, in your case. It’s a shame, I can tell she’d turn out to be quite the beauty.”

Cheese nodded, placing Saera back down in her crib.

“We only want the one, to square things. Unfortunately for you, your husband has been quite naughty. Queen Helaena wasn’t in her chambers with her wee ones…but you were. There’s a price to be paid, and you’ll have to be the one to pay it. We won't hurt you, Milady, not one little hair on your head. Just as long as you cooperate.”

You let out a sob, pleading with them. “Please, just take me! Take me, kill me, do whatever you want, I don’t care. Just let my daughter go.”

“As tempting as that is,” Cheese said, looking you up and down. “We can’t.”

“We have a job to do, Princess. You owe a life,” Blood continued.

You shook your head, crumbling to your knees. “No, please, take me–”

“No can do–”

“Please!” You screamed, sobbing on the floor.

Blood rushed over to you, pulling you up by your hair. He brought his hand up, backhanding you across the face. You could feel your lip split as his knuckles struck. He placed the blade back on your throat and held you tight to him.

“Another little outburst like that, and I’ll let Cheese here do whatever he wants with you, and then make you kill the girl yourself.”

You closed your eyes tight, bringing your hand to your mouth to stifle another sob. Your heart was aching, and a pit the size of a boulder had settled in your stomach. What would Aemond think? Returning to his chambers only to find his wife in hysterics, and his baby girl, slain in her crib.

“I’ll make it quick, darling, just for you. I’ll even do it in her crib, so she doesn’t have to wake up and see a stranger. She won’t feel a thing,” Cheese said, feigning sympathy.

Suddenly, you remembered.

“Can I go and say goodbye to her?” You asked, pleading with them to allow you to. “She’s my only child. I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t at least ask.”

Please say yes, you thought. Please say yes.

In all your worrying over the past few months, and Aemond’s continued absence in the evenings, you had come up with your own ways to make yourself feel safe. This included training with Aemond during the day in hand to hand combat, just in case you ever had to defend yourself. It included putting Saera to bed yourself every night, shuttering all the windows, and checking on the guard posted at your door nightly.

It also included strapping a knife in its sheath to the underside of Saera’s crib, out of her reach but easily within your own, if you could get close enough.

The two men pondered the request for a moment, before finally nodding.

You felt relief pouring through you, and could have collapsed with elation if it weren’t for the task at hand. You rushed over to her crib, kneeling down over it. She was awake now, peering up at you with big violet eyes.

You blinked the tears away, softly caressing her cheek. “Go to sleep, my sweet girl. I love you.”

You covered her with her blankets, kneeling further to tuck the sheets in. Blood and Cheese watched as you said your goodbyes, grinning at each other.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Cheese said, moving to come get you.

It was a split second reaction. Within another step from Cheese, you had unsheathed the knife, gripping it by the hilt. With all your might, you aimed it at Blood, flicked your wrist, and released it from your hand.

The blade soared across the room, burying itself in Blood’s chest.

He looked down in shock, slowly pulling the blade from his chest, dropping it. It clanged on the floor as it fell, and Blood crumpled to the floor soon after, landing in a pool of his own blood. You stared in shock, but quickly recovered and stood to your feet, blocking the crib from Cheese’s path.

Your daughter would live.

If someone else was going to die tonight, it wouldn't be her. If it was Cheese, that was all the better. But if you went down, you were taking him with you. He would not leave this room alive. You’d fight tooth and nail to the end, doing everything you could to protect your daughter.

Cheese finally collected himself, turning to you. “You bitch!”

You nearly grinned, wiping the blood that had seeped out from your lip, stepping into a defensive stance. “In the flesh…come and get me.”

Just as Cheese took another step toward you, the door to your chambers swung open, revealing a disheveled and concerned Aemond. It took him a second to realize what was happening.

When he finally did, the look on his face was murderous.

“Ser Criston went to get the Kingsguard. If you think they’ll get here in time to save you from your fate, you are sorely mistaken.”

Cheese froze in fear, shakily reaching for his sword. Aemond snarled, unsheathing his daggers, closing the chamber door behind him.

“I hope it was worth dying for. It looks like my wife gave your friend a quick end. You won’t be so lucky.”

Cheese moved to back up, but you had already snuck to reach the blade that Blood had dropped. You scrambled over on your knees, stabbing it into the back of Cheese’s thigh. He howled in pain, dropping to his knees.

“Please, My Prince–”

His words were cut off by a gurgling sound bubbling in his throat as Aemond lodged one of his daggers into Cheese’s chest. He used his foot to kick Cheese to the ground, reaching down to push the blade deeper. Cheese writhed in pain, raising his hands in surrender.

“Please! You don’t have to do this.”

“Neither did you,” you said, scurrying to stand behind Aemond. “But you did it anyway.”

“It seems as if you didn’t do my wife the courtesy of giving her a choice. Or maybe you did. What was it, hmm? Sacrifice my child or die? Seeing as that isn’t much of a choice, I will extend to you the same courtesy. So, which will it be? Bleed out on the floor while I watch you choke on your last breath, or have me put an end to your suffering by slitting your throat? The choice is yours.”

Cheese cried out in anguish, trying to pull himself away. Aemond seethed, using his other dagger to stab through Cheese’s throat, twisting the blade as it went in. You watched as he choked on his own blood, gasping for breath.

“I choose suffering,” Aemond said, pulling both blades free from Cheese’s body. “A gift to my wife.”

Blood spurted out from both wounds, and Cheese writhed and groaned on the floor in pain until he finally stilled, going limp. His eyes were still open when he died. Sometimes, you forgot just how cruel your husband could be, at least to everyone but you and Saera. Fiercely protective, though, a quality which you were grateful for.

When it was all over, Aemond dropped his daggers, quickly turning around to face you.

You threw your arms around his neck, and he pulled your shaking form into his. You gripped him tight, and he gripped you tighter, if that was even possible. He cradled your head to his chest, gently rocking you back and forth. You took deep breaths, fighting to fill your lungs and keep yourself from hyperventilating. A wave of emotion came over you, and you couldn’t help but to burst into tears, tucking your face into Aemond’s neck.

“Ñuha nēdenka riña,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

My brave girl.

He gently pulled you from his frame, gripping your chin and turning your face from side to side. He grimaced at your split lip and the shape of a hand imprinted on your reddened cheek.

“Does it hurt?” Aemond asked, face cold and hard.

You ever so slightly shook your head, causing his frown to deepen.

“You’re lying.”

You sighed, pulling your chin from his grip, looking him in the eye. “Would you rather me tell you the truth? Fill you with guilt? It is not your fault, Aemond.”

“Of course it’s my fault! I wasn’t here.” He breathed deeply, taking a moment. “What happened? Do not lie to me, I’ll know if you do.”

Your shoulders slumped and your heart ached as Aemond looked at you, racked with guilt and anger. You walked over and gently lifted Saera out of her crib, handing her to Aemond. He immediately clutched her tightly to him, cradling her on his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head, keeping her close as he listened.

“I had just put Saera to bed. I went to change, and when I came back, the shutters were open again. I figured they were broken and the wind had blown them open, so I went to tell the guard so that he could relay the information to someone who could fix it in the morning. When I opened the door, he was dead on the floor. Before I could move, they covered my mouth and pulled me into the room. Held us at knifepoint, so I wouldn’t make any noise.”

Aemond’s jaw clenched as he listened, a fury pooling in his chest. Should have killed him slower, he thought.

You continued. “They said their names were Blood and Cheese, and that they’re debt collectors. They said I owed a life, because of what you did…and if I didn’t give up Saera, they’d kill me, or worse.”

Tears gathered in your eyes as you spoke, your voice thick with emotion. Aemond tried not to falter at the sight. He couldn’t help it. Your tears struck him like an arrow through the heart.

“They promised they wouldn’t hurt me if I cooperated, but I angered them. Blood struck me, and made me choose. I remembered I had strapped the knife to Saera’s cradle, so I asked if I could say goodbye to her. They agreed, and I got to the blade. I killed Blood with it, just like you taught me. You came in right after.”

Aemond closed the gap between you, bringing you to his chest. He held you and Saera to him just as Ser Criston returned with a slew of guards.

“Are you alright, My Lady?”

You could only nod, finding shelter in Aemond’s arms. You could faintly hear him explain to Ser Criston what happened, but you weren’t listening. You could only focus on slowing the beat of your heart, and making sure your daughter was alright. Aemond kept you tightly clutched to him, not letting you out of his sight.

—

In the days that followed, you could hardly leave a room without Aemond being hot on your trail. He had practically become your shadow.

Aegon and your family had been quickly informed of what occurred in your chambers, leaving the council to decide amongst themselves what the next course of action should be. You told them to leave you out of it until they came to a decision.

You tried your hardest to understand the reasoning behind it. It no doubt had been an act Daemon thought of himself. You couldn’t bring yourself to blame Rhaenyra. She had to have been mad with grief, not truly paying attention to the justice her husband decided was fair.

The attack wasn’t even meant to harm you. Evidently enough, the Black’s blamed Aegon for Lucerys’s death. They wanted to hurt him, not you. It was Blood and Cheese who decided amongst themselves that you and Saera were compensation enough for Luke’s death.

Either way, it showed you and Aemond just how ugly this war could get.

Saera was with you at all times, Aemond not far behind. He kept his duties limited, never leaving you without him or guards for long. You were grateful for it, at first. You feared being alone, paranoid that someone was lurking in the shadows. But your fears eased over time.

Aemond’s didn’t.

He wouldn’t speak of that night, not after you told him all you could remember. Maybe he thought he was protecting you. Doing you a kindness, not wanting to bring up painful memories. But it did you both no good.

You could tell it was eating away at him. He was just too stubborn to do anything about it.

He would never tell you, but he was so anxious ever since that night that he nearly made himself ill every day. He awoke every morning feeling like he would be sick if he didn’t keep you and Saera close. There was a permanent pit in his stomach, one he couldn’t seem to rid himself of. And there was a rage brewing inside, so strong that it scared even him.

It took him a month to finally ease up, and give you a little space.

He made sure you and Saera were always protected, but he gave you your freedom to have some time to yourself. If you thought Aemond spent too much time with your daughter before, you couldn’t have been more wrong. He spent practically every waking minute with her, determined to be the one to keep her safe.

Saera loved it, of course. She was her father’s daughter. She loved you, too, but there was no denying she favored Aemond. She adored him more than anyone else in the whole world. He loved her just as much, and even more so.

You didn’t mind. You had enough love for the both of them.

After a month and a half, you decided enough was enough. You would not be ruled by fear, and you most certainly would not let it control your family.

One evening, you asked your handmaiden if she would take Saera for her bath. Under guard, of course. You were willing to let her out of your sight, but never willing to leave her vulnerable. That was something you thought Aemond would agree on.

Soon after she left, Aemond entered your chambers, immediately scanning the room. “Where’s Saera?”

“She went for her bath. I sent her with Jeyne. Ser Arryk is on guard with them.”

Aemond looked uneasy, but nodded, setting his things down. You gave him a sad smile, opening your arms.

“Come sit with me, please.”

He looked close to refusing, but finally relented. He sat at the foot of your bed, removing his boots and belt. You crawled to sit behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and laying your head in the middle of his back. He stiffened, and then sighed, easing under your touch.

“I want you to talk to me,” you muttered into his shoulder.

Aemond hummed. “About what?”

You pressed yourself closer to him, circling your thumb on his waist.

“You know what.”

He nodded, keeping his gaze pointed towards his lap. “Alright, then. I’m listening.”

“I know you still feel guilt,” you started, keeping your tone soft. “And you harbor rage, and resentment…I wish you wouldn’t.”

He scoffed, chuckling. “How could I not?”

“Because it’s not your fault.”

Your words were sincere, but he wouldn’t accept them. He couldn’t bring himself to believe you.

“My wife had to defend herself and my child against two assassins who tried to make her pay for a crime she did not commit, so pray tell, how is it that I am not the one to blame?”

You shook your head, twisting to sit next to him. “Look at me.”

He wouldn’t meet your eyes, and you grabbed his hands in yours, pressing a kiss to his palm. “Ñuha jorrāelagon, jurnegon rȳ nyke. Kostilus, Aemond. Jaelan naejot ūndegon ao.”

My love, look at me. Please, Aemond. I want to see you.

His voice was soft, and when he finally looked up, you could see tears brimming in his eyes. “Nyke ȳdra daor jaelagon ao naejot ūndegon nyke, ñuha jorrāelagon. Daor hae iksan.”

I don’t want you to see me, my dear. Not as I am.

You cupped his face in your palms, your words firm. “I want to see you as you are, no matter how that is. You won’t talk to me, Aemond. It’s been so long. I miss your voice, I miss your laughter. Don’t shut me out. Tell me what’s on your mind, I don’t care if it’s callous.”

He brought his hand up to cover yours, leaning his cheek into your palm. He was quiet a moment before he found the words.

“I thought I lost you. I thought I lost the both of you.”

You sighed, running your thumb across his cheekbone. “Darling…”

“When I returned to our chambers and found the guard murdered, I thought I would open the door and see you slain, as well. You, and Saera. Having paid the price for something that I did.”

“But you didn’t,” you said, quickly shaking your head. “You saved us. When you opened the door…I’ve never felt anything like it. Relief doesn’t even begin to explain it. I knew I was safe, I knew Saera and I would be alright.”

“You’d have been alright and never in danger in the first place if it had not been for my actions.”

“You couldn’t have known, Aemond. It was an accident.”

“Accident or not,” he said, voice cracking. “It almost cost me my girls. If you were hurt, it would have been blood on my hands. It is blood on my hands.”

There was a knock at the door, and your handmaiden entered your chambers, holding Saera. You stood, making your way over to them.

“Here you go, Princess,” she cooed, placing Saera in your arms. She nodded to you, excusing herself before she left. “Ser Arryk is just outside, My Lady. My Prince.”

You thanked her, waiting till the door was shut before you turned back around. Aemond looked ashamed, reluctant to meet your gaze. Saera stirred in your arms, incoherently babbling.

“Kepa,” she suddenly said, pointing.

Father.

You smiled, bouncing her on your hip. “That’s right, darling. Kepa. Do you want to tell your Father goodnight?”

She eagerly nodded, reaching for Aemond. You chuckled, walking her over to Aemond, placing her in his lap. Saera babbled, clutching his shirt in her little fists. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and she leaned forward to rest against his chest.

“Clearly, someone’s missed you,” you mused. “She isn’t the only one.”

Aemond looked up at you, his face softening. You took his free hand in yours, interlacing your fingers.

“She doesn’t fear you, Aemond. She doesn’t fear anything. Not when she has you to protect her, and she knows you will…I know you will. I don’t worry for my or her wellbeing, not when I’m with you. But I do worry for your wellbeing, because you won’t talk to me. I know your feelings plague you. You’re free to share them with me, whenever you like. Good or bad, it doesn’t matter. I’m your wife, and I’m here to listen.”

Aemond couldn’t believe what he was hearing. How can she not blame me, he thought. How did I get so lucky? You pressed a kiss to his shoulder, laying your head against it. He rested his head on top of yours, sighing in relief.

“You’re perfect, aren’t you?” He asked, his voice laced with humor. “The Gods must have made a mistake, gifting you to me. How unfortunate for them.”

“How unfortunate, indeed,” you agreed, settling into his side. “They seem to have misplaced you. Quite lucky, for me. I didn’t even have to earn you.”

“You’ve earned far more than me, darling. Far more. Quite lucky for me, I’d say.”

You hummed, not being able to stop yourself from smiling. From the sound of his voice, Aemond was smiling as well.

“I’d consider us both lucky, then,” you decided, you and Saera melting into Aemond’s arms. He only hummed.

“Indeed.”

—

A/N - Hi! Sorry this took so long to get out. I went a little overboard, but I just loved this request. I hope you liked it, let me know what you think!

#hotd #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #blood and cheese #saera targaryen

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