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a-edgar-allan-hoe · 1 year

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Wild Horses

Part 4

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Doctor!Reader, other characters x reader

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3

A/N: I hope y’all like this chapter and I apologize if it took long! Reblogs and feedback are much appreciated, I love hearing y’alls thoughts. Don't be afraid to stop by and say hi and if there are any ideas you guys would like to have in this story, just let me know! And as always, I hope you lovelies have a beautiful day! 💜💜💜 Also I apologize if some of the tags don't go through, I make sure to add each and every one of you lovelies but the tagging system here sucks ass.

Story Summary: Imagine being the new physician assigned to the team and a certain masked individual takes a new keen concealed interest in you. The two of you are too awkward to function.

Chapter Summary: 🎶Don't be suspicious.🎶

Warnings and notes: language, violence, blood and gore, fluff, angst, slow-burn, mentions of sexual themes

(Quick Disclaimer: I am not a doctor nor have any professional knowledge or experience involving surgical procedures. I am just a student studying in the medical field who has just started taking courses that are more degree-related. So I apologize if some of the stuff may be inaccurate.)

🍂Simon Riley. Simon MOTHERFUCKING Riley. The only man to exist that has managed to accomplish aggravating you in every possible way imaginable. For a woman known to have a great deal of patience, he sure as hell didn’t even need to lift a finger to break that record. Might as well put him in the Guinness Book of World Records for ‘The Most Stubborn Asshole Man Alive’ because you’re pretty sure if you looked up the words stubborn and asshole in a dictionary, his face would pop up.

🍂All you did was help stitch him up from a gunshot wound that could’ve gone way south if not done correctly. And when you tell him to come to you if he has any injures or illnesses because you want to help him, what does he do? What does this asshole of a man do? Insults you! Right to your face! I mean sure it wasn’t a direct insult nor were any of his words particularly insulting, but it was still rude and it offended you.

🍂“Meh don’ bother. I’m a big tough dummy and I eat rocks and tea for breakfast. I don’ need your help.” You mock with a shake of your head and a widened stance, mimicking both the voice and stature of the masked English soldier. The little ‘altercation’ had left you nearly fuming, pushing you to go outside to get some of that chilly night air in order to cool off. “I bet you use Gorilla Glue on all your wounds and call it a day.” You scoff, returning to your original posture. You better pray Ghost isn't lurking around somewhere unless you want your ass beat.

🍂Your dad had always taught you kindness and patience, being the down-to-earth soul he was, but boy was this man absolutely testing the everlasting shit out of you. You almost had to mutter out a small apology in your father’s honor for the obscene and colorful language that fell from your lips. But the more you thought about the absolute 6'4 idiot of a man, the more you became frustrated over it. All that body mass and not a single ounce of a brain. How he has managed to come this far without dying of an infection, you have no clue.

“Hope you like that fucking sour apple Dum-Dum you lollipop thief. You’re lucky I don’t dye your stupid mask pink.” You don't know what came in you in that heated moment but next thing you know you were practically planning your funeral and writing a will of your inheritance for your cat back home. Because if there's one thing you shouldn't do, it's kicking a random metal can just lying around on the street. Let's just say you were fucked because the sound that came out of you was equivalent to the screeching of a dying narwhal. The way the throbbing in your big toe had you clutching the wall and wheezing like a fish reeled right out of the water begging the creator for mercy was enough to produce some sweat out of you. And just your luck, as if the night couldn’t get any worse, Price had heard the noise and went to investigate it. Shouldn't this man have better things to do?

The face you pulled would have risen some concern from your colleagues back at the hospital in the states, a widened smile and pain-filled eyes, and you can’t help but to thank the poorly lit lamp streets for obstructing it. You swear you feel like your head is about to explode from the way you tried to keep it all together. But as Price asked if you were alright, looking over your stiffened and awkward stance, one hand out on the wall and your injured foot crossed over the other, all you could do was nod frantically and let out a wheezed ‘Yup. Finer than frog hair split four ways’. You pray that he doesn’t think you’re constipated or something from the strain in your voice. Coward. I would have faked a fall and had him carry me over the threshold.

Price of course doesn’t get American lingo and has no clue what the fuck you just said but takes it as a yes. Just you wait till he goes back in and tells the others what he heard. The man practically opens up the computer and searches up the phrase that you uttered just to find the meaning, all while the others crowd around. And after scrolling through a bunch of different articles involving different American slang, they collectively decide to learn a bunch of them in order to communicate with you. I lied. Because literally from this day forth, they randomly spit out different words and phrases just to tease your American accent. Actually Soap is the only one who does that………….just Soap.

Anyways……..

When Price finally closes the door behind him, you’re back to gritting your teeth and cursing at the pain in your toe and blaming it for your misfortunes, waiting a couple minutes so as to not run into the captain or the others before hurrying limping back into the building and into your room.

What did I tell ya. Should have just asked for Price to carry you back.

After inspecting your toe as what felt to be broken, you were glad to find out that it was just a grade 1 sprain. As painful as it was, for a successful recovery all it needed was some ice, taping, drugs, and a lot of rest. Rest......right. Like you were gonna get any of that.

Should've just reported it to Price.

Guess you can add one more injury to your list of things that are in the process of healing. The men come back from the mission bloodied and bruised with gunshot wounds, and you…….well you sprain your toe from trying to kick a can of beans or whatever the hell that stupid metal cylinder was filled with.

As if you weren't stressed enough before. Now you had to worry about hiding this tiny injury from the rest of the team to prevent them worrying about you. Also because you don’t want them to start asking questions about how it happened in the first place and find out that a can of beans was the culprit behind it. Hm, sounds a lot like someone else.

When you finally laid in bed that night, drugged out on melatonin and pain killers and wearing an oversized tee and a pair of shorts, you couldn’t stop drumming your fingers against your stomach, your injured foot propped up on a pillow with your big toe wrapped and taped up looking like you borrowed Fred Flintstone’s foot. Now just how were you going to hide that? It’s not like you can just grab a pair of those circus clown shoes or an orthopedic boot or some crutches and hope no one notices. And while you stared up at the ceiling, the drumming of your fingers coming to a stop as you contemplated on the idea while waiting to crash out from the melatonin you took, there is only one thing left that came to mind. So, in one swift motion, you grab the spare pillow closest to you and scream into it. A really long, really shrill scream that would have put the banshees to shame. Yup. You can now say you had officially reached your breaking point.

And what happens when you’re stressed? You have strange dreams, like really strange dreams. I’m talking weird vivid outlandish shit that feel too real kind of dreams. Because when you wake up the next morning, sweat beaded at your forehead, you can only think about the very explicit dream you had last night. The one involving you and the team and a series of very……………how can I say this, rated porn shit. It all felt real, too fucking real, because when you move your legs over to hang off the side of the bed, there’s a tenderness there and well………….everything else that comes with it.

“Yo what the actual fucking shit.” You groan, resting your elbows onto your thighs as you shove your face into your hands and rub at your forehead and cheeks.

How the hell were you going to face the team after waking up from something like that? You could almost paint a picture of the entire sequence as if it just happened, and boy was the image going to be burned into the back of your mind like the searing of a branding iron.

You were embarrassed just thinking about it. Every time you closed your eyes, you were reminded of the way their hands and lips roamed every inch of your body, the way their skin almost burned against yours, the stubble of their facial hair grazing against the sensitive skin that lined your inner thighs and the wetness of their tongues, the sounds of their low grunts and moans that escaped from deep within their chests that mingled with your soft ones as their heated breaths fanned your neck, the sharp smell of metal that paired with the rhythmic swaying of their dog tags as they dangled above you with each movement, and the pulling sensation in the pit of your stomach after reaching your high with each of them.

And then there was Ghost, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, the way he looked you over with disgust while you were on your back when each of them hovered over you. And when he finally stood in front of you, when there seemed to be no one else, glaring down at you from under that mask of his, and uttering one single phrase, 'you harlot of a tart', you woke up. Typical ole Ghost. An asshole in reality and an asshole in dreams.

You needed air, a shower, and a change of clothes, desperately. Price had given you the day off when you finished patching the men up last night. And that is exactly what you were going to do. But first you needed to clean yourself up, preferably with holy water if there was any, and then........well...you needed to get out of this building and get some fresh air because what in the 60s psychedelic orgy was that.

Lazily getting up from your bed, you quickly tie your tangled hair up in a simple bun and slide on a pair of slippers over your fuzzy socks, throwing on your plush Grogu and Mandalorian patterned robe over your sleeping clothes and pulling the hood of your robe over your head to provide extra warmth. Today was a much needed day off after the shit storm that was yesterday. As part of your regular morning routine on the days you didn't work, you grab your other mug that you finally found after rummaging through your things; the one shaped like the head of Kermit the Frog and decide to make yourself a cup of coffee to wake yourself up first and foremost.

Making sure to balance your weight on your uninjured foot, you wobble over to the kitchen, your empty mug in hand and your bottle of pain pills in the other that rattled slightly every time you dragged your feet across the floor. Your eyes tear up as you let out a long and dragged out yawn, squinting in the process which prevents you from seeing just what you were walking into as you place your mug on the countertop with a high-pithed clink.

If you thought today was going to have some mercy on your poor soul........................well you're wrong. Because while you have your back turned to the dining table behind you as you try to start up the coffee machine, you had forgotten that the thing was still broken in the first place, and also the fact that you live with five, now six, other men, and their eyes were now all on you. Girl if you don't turn your ass around-

"Mornin-"

"Sweet baby Jesus!" You nearly jump a foot into the air, spinning around in a frenzy with a wild look to see that the whole crew had been at the dining table the entire time and that you weren’t the only one scared out of their wits.

Did you just say ‘sweet baby Jesus?’ They haven’t heard that one before.

You stare wide-eyed in fright at the men seated at the table, your hair a mess and your heart so close to bursting out of your ribcage you swear you'd have to chase after it as you clutch the counter behind you.

There is an obvious awkward silence in the air as everyone stares at the inharmonious mess that is you and your startled state, curiously eyeing the large Grogu ears that were attached to the sides of the hood of your Star Wars plush robe and your bare calves that peeked out from underneath the hem down to your fuzzy socks that had cats all over it. You're practically following their eyes as they look over to your bottle of pills and your Kermit mug on the counter beside you before looking back at you. Oh to be able to read what went through their heads.

Despite your clashing wardrobe that made him question your taste in attire, there was one thing Ghost had focused on more, one that was obvious to those who knew it, a dainty tattoo of the unmistakable silhouette of a rose along the side of your calf. Was that the same rose off of Depeche Mode's 'Violator' album cover? It sure was, because right in the center of the stem where the rose was cut off, were the words 'violator' in cursive. Be still his heart. Is this man planning a proposal and your entire wedding? He was almost curious to find out what other bands or artists you listened to. Maybe he'll sneak a peek at your playlist-

"Howdy! You eh...........ya look worn slap out......I reckon." Soap smiles, trying to mimic the southern American accent but failing miserably, which only earns a round of groans of agitation at the table as the team roll their eyes. All but König of course, he's just as clueless as you are. He wasn't there when the team were searching up American slang.

You-what? The hell is this man on about?

"Jesus-" Price rolls his eyes at Soap's antics as he goes to take a sip of his coffee.

"......................" You're still mute. Your eyes dart between each of them, your thoughts only replaying the pornographic images of your dream as this sudden irrational fear begins to develop that they might be able to get a glimpse of your thoughts. Make a run for it-

"................Ye awright there wee lass? Yer lookin’ a bit peely wally." Soap's smile drops.

You're lookin a bit what?

"Mate, shut up." Gaz whispers to Soap after noticing your disconcerted expression. It was making him nervous, no doubt, and the fact that you weren't saying anything only made it worse.

The whole team were practically waiting for you to say something, but all you could do was stare. Girl either you say something or just take your clothes off and let them have you right then and there on the dining table, bandaged toe and everything if your dream distracts you that much-

"Guten morgen schatz (good morning love)." König sent a wave in your direction to try to ease the tension only to drop his hand back down after seeing that you did not respond. Poor dude is worried you’ve fallen ill and is practically sitting on the edge of his seat, analyzing every detail of your body language and ready to leap to your rescue in case you show any signs of falling unconscious.

Even Ghost couldn't stop the annoyed sigh/huff that escaped, shaking his head at the uncomfortable and nuisance of a situation as he took a sip of his tea, the motion catching your attention. That is when you first noticed that he had the lower half of his mask lifted up to his nose. Was this the first you had seen of part of his face? You found yourself tracing over the outline of his jaw and the cool-toned, medium blonde stubble the color of pale sand after a storm that lined the skin there, following along the curves of his lips and noticing the small scar that traveled down until his words from your dream echoed in your head, the same lips that said to you 'you harlot of a tart'. And as you lifted your gaze to his eyes, you found them narrowing at you. Shit.

"There's uh.......there's a cuppa coffee for you in the fridge there." Price nods towards the fridge near you, hoping that would snap you out of whatever trance you are in. I mean if you don't want it, I'll take it.

"....................." You had this overwhelming urge to puke and the last thing you wanted was to unload your stomach's contents of microwaved pasta right in front of everyone.

"Eh....estas bien amor? (you alright love?)" Alejandro's words pull you out of your thoughts. Oh what I would give to have this man ask me if I'm alright-

Bitch just say something-

“Блядь (fuck).”

Wha-what? That’s not what I meant-

The men quickly give each other a glance from the side of their eye. Did you just blurt something in Russian?

".................sorry what?” You squint with a scrunch of your nose, pulling the collar of your robe over your braless chest as a faint heat rose to your cheeks, utterly terrified to look them in the eye lest you'd get flashbacks. Should've just made a run for it when you first saw them-

More silence, nonexistent chirping of crickets that makes you want to crawl into a hole and decompose. Then there is the sound of someone slurping. Who-NOW WHO'S SLURPING?

"Sorry." Gaz utters a quick apology, dragging his tongue over his lips as he places his cup of tea down on the table.

"The coffee machine is broken love." Price adds.

"I know that." You state with a blink, startling the men on how quickly you suddenly respond as if nothing happened as you shove your bottle of pills in the pocket of your robe before unplugging the machine from the wall and tucking it under your arm.

The team can't help but watch as you leave the area with your mug in hand and the coffee machine in the other, each of them as confused as the next. What in the-

"What the bloody hell was that?" Price blurts out.

"Don' know. Anyone know what's the matta' with her?" Gaz watches you go with concern in his brow.

"Ah dinnae ken." Soap shrugs as he takes a sip of his coffee. "Ah think some nugget-lavvy-heid meid her up tae high doh."

"Mate," Gaz rubs his face. "English-"

"Ah said." Soap translates. "Ah think some eejit has riled her up."

The way Ghost nearly snaps his head to glare at the Scot. Why does he have a feeling he was talking about him in particular? There's absolutely no fucking way-Wait. The lollie. The fucking sour apple lollie. Was that some kind of an insult?

"Well that's a load of rubbish." Price comments. "If ye ask me, she's just knackered from mending yer sorry arses up."

The way Soap, Alejandro, König, and Ghost glare at him.

"Yeh but......why'd she take the coffee maker?"

"She's prolly gonna give it a fix." Gaz answers Soap's questions with a shrug.

Soap sits back in his seat with a pause, pondering on what Gaz had just said before turning to him with a confused look. ".................but ah thowght she's a doctor."

"Fuckin' hell Soap."

By the time that you return to your room, slamming the door behind you, you're already cussing yourself out for acting the way you did back there. Now they definitely were going to think that something was wrong with you. And if they did, what would you say? That you had a dream y'all were playing multiplayer adult twister? No. HELL NO. You'd almost prefer them to think you were a spy and take you out-and I don't mean take you out as in dinner, I mean take you out as in a firing squad take you out. All the waterboarding and the fingernail-pulling in the world could not pry that info out of you. If only that dream did not affect you as much, if only.

Hm. You know what, maybe Ghost IS to blame in all of this. You only get wacky dreams when you're stressed. After all, he was the one who got under your skin, not Soap, not Gaz, nor Price, definitely not Konig, and not even Alejandro.

There was only one other person who ever managed to get on your nerves the first time you got to know them, only one person who never failed to make you roll your eyes every time they opened their mouth: your ex. But even then, at least the two of you got along no matter the snarky comments you made towards each other. And as annoying as he was at times, he always found a way to bring a smile onto your face no matter how hard you tried to hide it. Ghost on the other hand, well…….he’s something else alright. This man literally has you wanting to rip your own hair out and hike to the Himalayas to seek some kind of therapy yourself.

"God I'm such an idiot." You growl between clenched teeth, tossing the coffee machine into the trash before limping around your room with your hands on your hips. You definitely needed to get out of the building or else you just might go mad. And with the men there who just witnessed you at your most vulnerable and natural self, the last thing you wanted was to be within their vicinity. Changing out of your sleeping pajamas, you threw on an oversized hoodie and a pair of sweats, grabbing one of your beanies and tucking your hair into it before throwing on a pair of sneakers. You’re already cracked out on pain meds so you might as well run a few errands while you're out, as well as grab a new coffee machine because god knows that's the only thing that keeps you sane these days. You’re so caught up in the process of rushing to get the hell out of there that you fail to notice the masked soldier standing right beside your door a foot away.

“Holy fucking-!” You jump in your skin, hand clutching your chest once you notice Ghost leaning against the wall in the same exact stance like in your dream. Jesus fucking Christ. “Ghost! I uh did not see you there. You nearly had me rushing to the hospital for heart failure haha.” You laugh nervously through your teeth, trying to maintain your polite manners as to not anger the contracted killer. What the hell is he doing here and what does he want? Sending the man a polite smile in hopes that he would just go about his business, you pull your keys out of your pocket, the jingling of the metal making up for the extreme silence that filled the dusty air between the two of you.

“………………………”

Jesus fucking christ. He's just standing there isn't he-

"Uh. Can I help you?” You ask, turning to the man who only stared in your direction, as still as an unused puppet. Only he seems to ALWAYS have something up his ass. At least a puppet talks.

Damn that fuckin politeness of yours, Ghost thought to himself. “......................You're bein’ dodgy." He did not like the way you were acting back there. It was as if you were hiding something. And being the person he was, he found it suspicious.

Oh if he were to see the reason behind it. You're pretty sure it would make his mask blush.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." You press your lips together, fixating on your keys in your hands as you try to lock your door.

"Your behavior. You're up to something."

Ah yes. Good ole Ghost. Trusting no one but himself, the little shit-

"Says the one standing right outside my room." You mutter to yourself, cursing under your breath at the way you fumbled your keys and were unable to lock your door due to how he glared at you as if you had put salt instead of sugar in the queen's tea. You bet your bottom you probably looked like a shmuck struggling with something as simple as locking the fucking door. If this dumbo doesn't scram-

"Come again?"

This man was really starting to get on one of your last nerves. “What? Didn't anyone ever tell you it’s rude to lurk outside a lady’s door? You can get your ass tased for some shit like that.” You snark before letting out a quick breath of air at finally getting your key in the lock. One step closer to getting the hell out.

There it is, the real you. Ghost almost can't help the way a slight amusement builds within him at watching you get riled up like this, the faintest hairline of a smirk begging to pull at the corner of his mouth. But despite his little fragment of entertainment from the show of emotion he had managed to string out from you, he had to remind himself the real reason he was here. “The hell are you up to?”

“Nunya.”

“Nunya?” Ghost narrows his eyes, not sure what you were getting at and at the same time not liking where this was going. He swears if this is one of your little tricks-

“Nunya damn beeswax that’s what.”

“What-“ Ghost straightens himself off the wall, hands lowered to his sides. Okay now you were just annoying.

“How was the sour apple lollipop?” You remark, not being able to hold back the snide comment that slipped from your lips. You prayed he would get the meaning behind your little 'token of gratitude' from last night.

You should not have said that-

Bitch I’d become a track star in the fraction of a second-

“You-“ Ghost takes a step towards you but stops from the way you whip your head towards him.

“I know you did it, you little burglar. What, you think I wouldn’t notice that some fish-and-chips-eating crackpot was ransacking my lollipop stash?”

Da foq did you just call him? Ghost is stupefied as he stands there blinking at you, hands ever so slightly tensing. How the bloody hell did you find out? Did you know about the apples as well? Please don't know about the apples- And as he tries to open his mouth to say something, you don't even give him a chance.

“You know, for someone that is known to be stealthy and whatnot, you sure do leave a mess of your Sephora eyeshadow everywhere.”

Oh now you’ve definitely popped a nerve.

“What? You gonna stab me?” You quirk a brow at watching him tense up. “Please, be my guest. Just make sure it’s quick and that I’m officially dead so my student debt disappears.”

Bitch don’t give him a reason tf-

Jesus you talk a bloody lot when you’re nervous, Ghost looks at you confused as he cocks his head back. Well he sure didn’t expect that answer. Doesn't change the fact that he's pissed though.

“You know, you should be glad I didn’t write your Skeletor ass up for not only neglecting medical treatment but also stealing my damn treats.”

“Ye’ve got some nerve ye little tosser-“ Ghost grabs you by your upper arm and yanks you to him as he glares down at you.

Your poor toe-

“Ow! Someone outta teach you some manners.” You sputter, surprised from his sudden and forceful movement. And yet, you can’t help but find yourself flustered at being manhandled no matter how much you tried to preserve your vexation towards him. Ohhh, were you attracted to this? Wait, am I attracted to this???? Nah-

“Yer a real pain in the arse you know that.” Ghost can’t help but to roll his eyes, knowing damn well he did not handle you that roughly to begin with, despite your reaction.

But you and I know it’s just your toe-

“Yeah no shit. I’ve been told.” You roll your eyes in a dramatic manner. “But if you wanna be real, you’re like a bad hemorrhoid if we’re being honest.”

Did you just-

“Whot the bloody hell did yuh just call me?” Ghost snarls as he yanks you even closer to him, your chest bumping into his. Did you just call him a fucking hemorrhoid?

The jerky movement elicits a small gasp from your lips, pried right out of your lungs before you glare back at him with as much as you can muster; your jaw clenched, brows drawn together, and your eyes shooting straight up into his even more menacing ones. You try not to think about those nonexistent slander of words he uttered to you. Dream or not, that shit hurt. And as you think back to the dream you had, you were swiftly brought back to the circumstance right in front of you, immediately aware of the lack of distance between the two of you and the way your chest was pressed up against his.

A heat starts to form in the pit of your stomach, slowly making its way from your core and unfurling out to every inch of your skin, like being brushed over with a velvety feather under the warmth of the sun. His grip on your arm is almost revering if it weren't for its threatening nature as you stare up at him, and you swear you could feel the subtlest shift in his fingers through the thick fabric of your hoodie from the way his thumb ever so slightly grazes across. Your sharp gaze softens, admiring the way the sun's rays from the nearby window lit up his lashes like wisps of gold, like the feathers of an oriole bird soaring over the deep brown valleys that resemble his eyes.

He smelled like last night’s whiskey, a hint of the cigarette he smoked this morning, and his cologne that smells of sandalwood and pine trees. It’s almost refreshing. And in this moment, you don’t even care that you literally look like a teenage boy with your hair tucked into your beanie, wearing a pair of converse and your vans baggie hoodie and sweats. There was only one thing on your mind, one thing only.

“Let go of me.” The only words you managed to breathe out.

“Or what?"

“…………..I’ll scream.”

*cue Princess Leia's theme*

Kiss him. *insert Emperor Palpatine voice* Do it-

You found yourself burning for this innate desire, this need for him to push you against the wall and have his way with you, to have him lift the bottom of his mask and feel his lips on yours, traveling down to the angle of your jaw and your neck and just about everywhere there was you, all of you. Simon had noticed this sudden shift in your demeanor, the way your biceps loosened under his fingers through the course fabric of his gloves, the way your lashes fluttered against the ridges and deep ravines of your irises as you stared up at him with a far-off look that yet seemed so close. Were you-no, can't be.

The way you looked under him appeared to lure him in, not to mention your scent, that same perfume that seemed to have dug its claws into him since the moment he first met you. His eyes now lowered to your parted lips as he found himself focusing on their shape and the short shallow breaths that drifted through, wondering about how they'd feel, their softness, their taste. And as his head lowered just the smallest inch towards you, he noticed once more the small circular scar on the side of your neck. Only this time, he was finally able to make out what it was, and it reminded him too much of his own past. How that scar came about to form on your skin, he had no clue. But it was none of his concern, he had to tell himself. Clenching his jaw, Ghost drew himself back, once again returning to that cold and forbidding presence that was there before.

Actually it’s a good thing you didn’t try to score a smooch. You’d probably just get WWE body-slammed-

“Can I go now?” You clear your throat. “I’ve got chickens to tend to and errands to run.”

"What errands?"

"Why? You gonna help me pick out some zucchinis?" You cock your head back. "Now if you could release that lego grip of yours I'd appreciate it."

Ghost lets out a hmph, the only thing he can do despite his frustration as he loosens his grip just as you tear your arm away from him.

“Thank you." You give him a condescending smile before reaching into your tote bag to grab something while Ghost watches you intently, hoping it’s not another lollie. Lies. Y'all know he wants one-

“Here are your blood results by the way since you refused to stop by my office to go over them.” You slap the papers onto his chest, which earns you another glare from him. “So don’t come whining to me when you don’t understand a thing it says on there.” You snark one last time before heading off to the front entrance.

"Oh and another thing." You turn back around. "I'd cut down on the smoking and drinking if I were you."

All Ghost could do was watch you walk off with the slightest stomp in your step before breathing out a “Fuckin h-“

“Goddamn son a bitch.” You grit your teeth, stuffing your hands in the pocket of your hoodie once you step out of the building. You swear that man goes out of his way to annoy the everlasting shit out of you. “Fucking shitbag cumguzzler ass-OH MY GOD!”

You stop suddenly at the sound of a small animal, your eyes wide and mouth hung open as you look towards the ground to see a tiny tabby kitten trotting in your direction from the bushes, it's tail fluffed straight up in the air as it was excited to see you.

“Hi there little guy.” You coo at the small ginger ball of fur making its way towards you before bending down and reaching a hand out. "What're you doing here all by yourself huh?"

The kitten stares at your outstretched hand, giving it a sniff before finally rubbing its head against your palm with its eyes shut. You almost had to bite your tongue from the squeal that just ripped out of your throat. I lied. You did squeal.

“Ahhh omg." Your smiled, your heart swelling at seeing the kitten warm up to you as it came up even closer and lifted its tiny paws to rest up on your bent knees. It was as if you had completely forgotten the mayhem that was today, as if it was just you and this tiny kitten and no one else.

"Oh you’re coming home with me.” You carefully pick up the kitten with both your hands before cradling it against your chest, stroking your tired fingers through its soft and yet dusty fur.

“Mew.” The kitten let out another meow, the small rumbling in his chest vibrating against yours as his pupils widened, nearly blackening out his pale yellow irises as he stared up at you.

“You know what." You gasp. "I shall call you Spot." (Kudos if you know where the name is from.)

“Mew”

“You don't have any siblings hiding out in the bushes ready to jump me and steal my credit cards do ya?"

“Mew.”

“Shit.” You mutter out, your smile dropping as a realization comes to you. How the hell were you going to hide the kitten?

Tag List: @swissy23 @sualocin @kristalhi @deakyspuff @sometimes-i-write-good @hamilfanyu @princessranch @ig-you-idiot @obitoshotaf @cavern-creature @at0mschutzbunker @eddiesbixch696 @souls-rain @euovennia @i-wish-we-could-stay @depressedacidtest @gh0stm3g @thequeenofbigmacs @k1llerch4n @abbiesxox @feraltiddies @wand-erer5 @1redheaded3dragon @anisa269 @jocecymoo @mango-corner @classickook @trueee33 @sockertop @lupskelly @chxbits @kuwizo @sluxm3ozt @tobybestupid @anarchygoose @lez-zuha @thatoneautor0123 @aloudplace @ella-error505 @awkward-0 @ariessux @kermitdefroghere @urloverx @alldaysdreamers @rat-elbows @watersquirtpewpewboomm @izzyisstuff @notabotiswear @thecraziestcrayon @lilwingedwolfy @sprkthere @shyyxzi @bookmark-anon @simplecole18 @itsourkisses-blog @here4thespice @sunndust @josephquinnswhore @spooniscute @xghostyx666 @nikolai-m-s @he4rtbloss0m @classifiedtoe @killergoddessmm @sm8th0p @lunarayx @iwannabeazoldyck @butterflypillows @lobeliaaaaaa @mxtokko

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essentiallyleaf · 7 months

Text

day 10. hate sex. with. nana.

472 words.

tags.

kinktober ‘23, idol x male reader, hate sex, degradation, ass play, rimming, anything else that i’m missing?, this started as a brat taming fic in my mind, but honestly, you don’t tame shit in this one, dialogue only, basically improv, i know the pic is clashing, i just kinda like it that way.

notes.

meant for this to be a decent amount longer, but i am emotionally spent from answering an ask that i felt was much more important than all of this. i need to look at pokemon sleeping adorably now. unsurely, leaf.

“Ach-ptoo!”

“Don’t you dare touch me back there, boy”

“Oh, shut up, you were begging for me to fuck you in the ass just three days ago! Now stay still for a second”

“Mmmmmgh-yeahh”

“It’s just my thumb and you’re already mewling, you little bunny slut”

“Nnngh- I’ll choke you as soon as you let me ride”

“And, enlighten me, why would I do that?”

“Because you fucking love it, you idiotic dick with legs!”

“You’d be too busy cumming on my dick, and you know that”

“Fuh- Wanna bet?”

“You ever been to Vegas? Because you seem to be into purposefully losing money”

“Who said I was talking about money?”

“What are you suggesting, then?”

“I ride you, and whoever cums first gives the other five minutes”

“Five minutes?”

“To do what the other wants with them. Mmmmhh- Deal?”

“Deal. Straddle me”

“You have no idea what you just put yourself into”

“Can’t wait to find out”

“Mmmmhhh, can you even handle cumming twice in the span of five minutes?”

“I could handle anything. But I’m afraid you’re not gonna get to find out”

“Oh, such a powerful man”

“You’re the one who’s moaning here”

“Yeah, wanna join?”

“Aaaahh, fucking, slow down!”

“Already begging?”

“We haven’t even started, as far as I’m concerned”

“Really? Cause by the way you’re gripping onto that pillow, most would disagree”

“Mmmmgh- You have no idea”

“What? It seems to me, that I know a lot of things. Nnngh. I know you love how I’m riding you, I know you’ll come before me, and I know you’re a weak man, who only takes bets because his disproportionate ego can’t fathom the idea of a girl, and a smaller girl nonetheless, having him beg for mercy!”

“Mmmmgwaaaahhh, aaah, ah… aah…”

“Pathetic”

“...”

“Fucking pathetic little boy, you came in, how long was that, even?”

“Fuh- You sex-addicted bitch…”

“Heh. You don’t deserve any of this”

“...”

“Now lay still, legs up”

“What?”

“Fucking, bend your legs and pull them up to your chest! Is that hard to understand?”

“Why? Just, choke me and let’s get this over with!”

“Hmph. You came, moaning like a whore, and now you’re trying to run away with your tail between your legs? You wanna get away with a pair of tiny hands around your neck? You don’t have a clue, do you? Honestly, that’s just cute. You’re a cute little bitch, that’s what you are. Now, for the last time, your fucking legs. Up.”

“What do you wanna do?”

“This”

“Gwaaaahhh- Not your tongue there! Jesus Christ, fuck!”

“...”

“Please. Please. Mmmmggghh- Please, just beat my dick. Just, destroy it. Fuckkk- I’ll take anything”

“...”

“Whore, you whore. You bunny devil whore. Fuckinggg- You will see. You have no idea what- I’ll breaknngggaaaahh. Aaaahh. AAAAAAHHHHMMMMHHHFUH-”

“...”

“Honestly, felt like a punishment for me, more than anything”

footnotes.

i hope you have a great day today. especially, leaf.

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grimoireofhayley · 9 months

Text

Of Friends and Horror

Stu Macher x Fem!Reader x Billy Loomis

WARNINGS: Graphic content, eventual Smut (MINORS DNI), Language, Talks of SA (rape), Cheating, Obsessiveness, Gore, 18+ content, Stalking, Jealousy, Angst, Possessiveness, (let me know if there’s more that needs to be added!)

Word Count: 1.02k

Tag List: @ev3ningrain @nerdytif @m-the-little-witch

A/N: Ah, I hope y’all feel lucky. Two chapters in one day! I hope you enjoy this one as much as I enjoyed writing it. I hope I captured Randy, Billy, and Stu’s personality correctly. Thank you so much for reading! I’m hoping I’d get an update out tomorrow, but if not, it should be up later on this week at some point so keep an eye open. I also wrote this on my iPad, so I apologize if there’s any grammatical errors. I’ll proofread again tomorrow and put out an updated version. Oh, again, if you wanna be added to the tag list, just comment down below. Thank you :)

All chapter links! 👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻

OF&H Masterlist

Chapter 3

“Remember, your principal loves you, and I want you to be safe. All students are encouraged to return to their homes promptly from school grounds…” The principal spoke over the PA, “Avoid strangers, walk in twos and threes—“

You pinched the bridge of your nose, visibly stressed from all the questioning. You haven’t a clue why you were so upset about everything, you weren’t the killer, but for some reason it felt like you were. Maybe you should’ve lied? Twisted the story a bit so you didn’t reveal you were a mistress at some point in your life.

“I am a slut..” You mumbled, dragging your fingers down your face, causing your eyes to droop. “Now Brooke is definitely going to find out, how am I to confront her on that?” You asked no one in particular.

You stared at the vibrant blue sky, squinting when the sun flashed your eyes. “Have mercy on me, please?” You begged the man upstairs, not expecting an answer in return.

“What kind of questions did they ask you, Sid?” You heard Tatum’s voice in the distance.

You blew a raspberry, putting your brave face on and sauntered over to your friend group at the fountain.

“They asked if I knew Casey…” Sidney’s voice soon followed.

“Hi, guys!” You chirped, sitting in front of Stu, Billy, Tatum and Sidney, unintentionally stopping their conversation.

“Hello, Sweetcheeks!” Stu blurted, eyes glazing over you, a small smirk planted on his lips. “What took you so long?” He groaned, “It’s always so boring when you aren’t here!” He frowned, tossing his head back.

“Gee, thanks Stu..” Tatum snipped, causing you to giggle.

You looked over to Billy, seeing Sidney leaning against his legs, your face contorting in disgust as jealousy was creeping up on you. You mentally slapped yourself, looking away and back at Stu.

“Uh, they had me stay longer for questioning…” You admitted, leaning back against your bag, stretching out your legs.

“Huh? Why?” Billy asked, curiously.

“Yeah, why’s that?” Sidney mumbled.

You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat.

“Just reasons, I guess.”

“Speaking of questioning, did they ask if you like to hunt?” Stu looked at Billy and Randy who seemed to have shown up out of nowhere.

“Yeah, they did. Did they ask you?” Billy answered and probed, Randy nodded in agreement.

“Hunt? Why would they ask you if you liked to hunt?” Tatum voiced.

“Because their bodies were gutted.” Randy spoke up, shoving a peanut in his mouth.

“They didn’t ask me if I liked to hunt…” both Sidney and Tatum declared.

Stu looked around, but his eyes always seemed to land on you, which caused you to blush, and chew on your fingernail.

“‘Cause there’s no way a girl could’ve killed ‘em..” Stu laughed.

“That’s bullshit. The killer could easily be female, basic instinct.”

“That was an ice pick. Not exactly the same thing…” Randy butted in.

“Yeah, Casey and Steve were completely hollowed out. And the fact is, it takes a man to do something like that.” Stu grinned, still staring at you without realizing it.

You leaned in, placing your chin on the palm of your hand. “Really now? If that’s so, then why did they ask me if I liked to hunt, Stu?” You smirked, catching all of them off guard. “Like Tatum said, the killer could easily be a girl. Though, with how they were killed it was clearly a man. They’re all the same, messy. They like to play with their prey. A woman on the other hand, knows how to get things done, swiftly and cleanly. Why do you think they don’t get caught as easily?” You finished your statement. Drumming your fingers across your lap in triumph.

“That was— I was not expecting that.” Stu laughed loudly, bewilderment lingering around him like an aroma of some sorts. Billy was just as shocked, but more amused.

However, Sidney wasn’t having it. “How… How do you gut someone?” She asked.

“You take a knife—“ Stu started and Billy looked up from his lunch. “And you slit ‘em from the groin to the sternum..”

“Hey.” Billy cut Stu off, glaring at him. “It’s called tact, you fuckrag.”

You sighed, shaking your head.

“Hey, (Y/n)..” Sidney asked, ignoring Billy and Stu’s former conversation.

Your ears perked and you looked at her confused.

“Didn’t you used to date Steve Orth?”

‘Now how in the fuck could she have possibly known that…’ You thought, your ears turning red from anger and you clenched your fist.

“Yeah, for like a couple of months..”

“Hold up, did I miss a chapter or something? When the hell did you date him?” Billy asked, looking somewhat pissed.

“Uh, yeah, I have to agree with Billy here.. when the hell did that happen?” Tatum’s eyes widened, she felt betrayed.

“Jesus, guys, it was only a couple of months, I don’t even know how Sidney found out.” You started, shooting Sidney a glare.

“Can we change the subject, please?”

“Did you sleep with him?” Stu mumbled, starting to get irritated as well.

“All of you, please just shut up. It is not a big deal.” You demanded.

“Are the police aware that you dated the victim?” Randy asked, ignoring your pleas.

“Hey, what are you saying? That I killed both Casey and Steve?” Your mouth gaped at the accusation.

“It just makes sense, ex-girlfriend not over the relationship, gets jealous seeing her lover with someone else… You know, the scorned ex who kills for revenge!” Randy shouted, earning a few stares in the process from passersby’s.

“(Y/n) was with me last night, okay?” Billy spoke, winking at you from behind Sidney.

“Yeah, I was…” You stated, catching Sidney’s eyes darting your way.

“Was that before or after you sliced them up?”

“Hold on, you went to (Y/n)‘s after you came by my place? You said you were going to Stu’s!” Sidney flared her nostrils, anger bubbling to the surface.

“Oh, brother…” You whispered, face-palming. Seeing Sidney hurriedly packing up her things, she didn’t give neither you or Billy time to explain...

<- Previous Next ->

#fanfiction #billy loomis x female reader #ghostface x female reader #stu matcher x reader #stu macher x female reader #billy x you x stu #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis #stu macher #ghostface #scream x reader #scream franchise #scream 1996

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ki-yomii · 14 days

Note

helloo! could you recommend your favorite jungkook and yoongi fics? thank you and have a lovely day ♡

hey there~ 💛

... tbh i haven’t read too many fics for my boys lately 🙈

i've been trying to work through the books sitting on my shelf collecting dust + i got sucked back into fallout now that the show is out lol.

but i do have some all-time favorites!!

please mind the warnings/tags - you're responsible for your own reading consumption. that said, all of these fics are 🔞

i hope you have a great day nonnie and if you have any recs send them my way 🥰!

JUNG KOOK FICS

the crimson shell series by @angelicyoongie

mermaid aus are my lifeblood istg. and this is one of the best one's i've ever read!! it's dark, it's creepy, it's foreboding - and tantalizing. everything i love about mermaid/siren aus crammed into one series.

you had always found comfort in being at the beach, often spending hours just watching the waves lap against the shore. but unbeknowst to you – something had been watching you back.

make you mine two-shot by @colormepurplex2

i'm a sucker for abo, and as such, have read a looot of it over the years. its a genre that's very easy to descend into wtf-how-are-they-still-alive-after-THAT territory but this fic does it very well in a way i haven't seen too often. i loved the world-building and set up.

Alphas might rule the world, but Jungkook finds himself being ruled by the need to make you his. Omegas are rare, precious, and pliant. At least, most are. When you present late, well into your twenties, you're already set in your headstrong ways; a challenge even for a commanding alpha like Jungkook. Add to that the centuries-long feud between your families and the last thing anyone expected was for him to claim you as his soulmate.

a sea of indigo series by @foxymoxynoona this was the first BTS fic i ever read... and is a big reason as to why i got into the fandom in the first place. i had no clue who they were before then. i'd heard of them + listened to agust d without knowing it was yoongi 💀 but this fic made me check out BTS RUN and now here we are 🤪

Pitbull Hybrid Jungkook has finally been freed from the fighting rings, and now finds himself at Marigold Sanctuary & Transition Estate, a place for healing and self-discovery for rescued hybrids. It's stupid, dumb, cheesy, and hell-bent on helping Jungkook "heal" and "find himself" and "decide the course of his life." And right at the center of it is Y/N, a nurse who's got everyone bamboozled that she's like some awesome person. She's not that great. Jungkook hates it here.

YOONGI FICS

witch oneshot by @sailoryooons

this is easily one of my top 3 yoongi fics. the world building, the tension, the relationship between yoongi and reader. it ticks all my boxes and vividly paints a picture of this universe. i adore the concept, and love the way this fic is brought to life through sailoryooons storytelling.

For years, you and Yoongi have played cat and mouse. It’s his duty to rid the world of witches, but he always finds a new excuse to let you slip through his fingers. When you find yourself at his mercy, you wonder if the great witch hunter will finally end your game of chase, or if there’s something that will stay his hand.

desolate series by @angelicyoongie

one of the first hybrid fics i've read for bts 😭 i love my lil meow meow and the set-up for this fic is amazing. it takes a fresh direction with the hybrid trope and builds a relationship that feels organic and progresses very naturally💛

you just wanted a cute little normal cat to keep you company. so you're not really sure how you ended up with the grumpiest hybrid on earth that seems hellbent on making your life difficult.

ps. i woof you oneshot by @gimmesumsuga

this one is just so so cute and asjhdjsghfjs!! i adored remi and thought about having yoongi and holly as neighbors for days after reading this lol.

The one with a happy accident of the furry, four-legged kind - “Are you calling my dog a slut?!”

first and last and always oneshot by @floralseokjin

i'm not one for holiday fics/aus usually but there's something about this one that i absolutely adored. it felt very realistic and drew me into the relationship within the first few paragraphs. the angst is so well done and heartfelt, it made me cry lol.

You and Yoongi broke up two months ago. It was mutual, you’re positive, but there’s one teeny tiny issue... You never told your parents, and now they’ve invited you back home for Christmas. Both of you. You can’t say no, but you also can’t bear to go alone, so you do the only thing you can think of, plead with Yoongi to come with you and pretend like everything’s okay...

go send these authors some love!!

#asks #get recc’d 📚#fic recs #jungkook x reader #yoongi x reader

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cottoncandyafterdark · 5 days

Text

Parenting Heacanons - Chuuya, Atsushi

Character(s): Chuuya Nakahara; Atsushi Nakajima (Bungou Stray Dogs)

Tags: SFW, fluff, familial, headcanons

Warnings: Mention of pregnancy

Notes: AFAB reader; originally posted on ao3 here; this is old and I'm not caught up with the manga now so sorry if anything seems strange

Chuuya

I'm not going to lie, Chuuya's initial response to finding out his partner is pregnant is not going to be very positive. He's not angry or anything, but he didn't really want kids and doesn't feel the slightest bit ready to be a father. He isn't going to run away, though; he knows it's sorta his fault you're in this situation to begin with so he's going to swallow his pride and stick around for your sake.

He spends the whole pregnancy low-key dreading having to take care of a baby. Mostly because he's got no clue how to do that. That's not to say he isn't trying to find out how; if you check his browser history at this point, it'll probably be a lot of parenting articles.

He'll say he wants to leave naming the baby to you but if you come up with name ideas and ask him for his thoughts on them Oh Boy will he have some opinions for you.

As soon as the baby is born and he gets to hold it, it's like all his apprehension just vanishes into thin air, he is immediately in love. Like, he looks this tiny, helpless human he helped make in the eyes and immediately knows he would kill and die for them.

I think that it would be a more interesting dynamic if he had a daughter; he'd still be a good father to a son, but with a daughter, he would truly be wrapped around her little finger. That little girl will be SO spoiled, she'll be the one all her classmates want to be friends with because she has all the newest video games and the best dolls.

Lord have mercy on anyone who tries to bully his daughter, not just because he'll be more than willing to beat them up but if she's inherited any of her dad's personality, so will she. If she gets in trouble at school for fighting back against a bully, she will get high fives and ice cream from Chuuya.

When she's old enough, he'll teach her to fight for real. He knows he won't always be there to protect her, so he wants her to be able to keep herself safe.

Once she's old enough to start dating, Chuuya will do the entire protective dad routine to any boys she might bring home. He will all but do a full interrogation about what they're planning, make it known that he knows how to hide a body, and if they bring her home even a minute late he is going to lose it.

Word will get around about this. It is not going to be easy for Chuuya's daughter to find a prom date.

Atsushi

In the early stages of pregnancy Atsushi is going to feel sicker than you.

This poor boy is straight-up terrified to be a parent at first because of what his own childhood was like. It isn't that he doesn't want to have children, exactly, he just doesn't want to end up continuing the cycle of abuse. Of course, the fact that he's worried about that at all is enough to tell you that he'll be a fine father, but good luck convincing him of that.

Once his child is born, all his worries are going to lead him to go so far in the opposite direction, he's probably never going to so much as raise his voice at the kid. He is a major pushover of a parent, Atsushi's child could get away with murder.

He's also going to have a hard time denying them anything they want. This is going to be another spoiled child for sure. The kid's probably going to end up as a bit of a brat because of this, and Atsushi can't even get mad because he knows it's no one's fault but his own.

On the positive side of things he's going to be such a supportive dad as well. He'll be in the front row of any recitals, plays, spelling bees, anything like that his child participates in and he is going to clap the loudest because he's so proud of them!!!

He'll try to help them with their math homework at some point, but quickly realize that he doesn't really know how to do math either. Much frantic googling will ensue as Atsushi tries to quickly learn long division for his child's sake.

When they get old enough to start hanging out with friends on their own, Atsushi is going to be so worried if they stay out later than they said they would, even if it's just by a few minutes. He'll also want to know exactly who they're with and where they're going. He isn't trying to be overbearing, he just has anxiety.

Voted most likely to cry when his child moves out. Empty nest syndrome is gonna hit him so hard. His child is probably going to get daily texts from their honorary aunts and uncles at the Agency reminding them to call their dad.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungou stray dogs x reader #atsushi nakajima #bsd chuuya #bsd atsushi #bsd headcanons #old fic

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damn-stark · 9 months

Text

Chapter 15 The songchord of the twins

Chapter 15 of Moonlight

A/N- Missing Cregan 😕

Warning- Swearing, angst, fluff, blood, death and violence, talks of miscarriage, labor, SPOILERS for future events of HOTD.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode- After 1x09, events based off of Fire and Blood

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

Mercy, that’s what the man who tried to kill you keeps saying since he saw you. Since he saw you plead for the children’s life yesterday he expects the same. Except they didn’t try to kill you, nor did they sneak into your chambers, this man did.

And he refuses to say anything too. They’ve been interrogating him since last night. Or at least that’s what Ser Criston says, who knows if it’s actually true—maybe he was the one that wanted you killed for getting too involved. He quickly volunteered to interrogate the man too, it would benefit him to say that the man held his tongue. After all Aemond wouldn’t even have a clue because he refused to leave your side after.

The only time Aemond did leave you alone was in the morning, but even then he didn’t trust Alys alone with you, so he left four guards inside your chambers to watch over you until he came back. And when Aemond did return he held his meeting inside your new chambers too. It’s some miracle he wasn’t the one that helped you dress you this morning.

Yet, having him basically breathe down your neck doesn’t really bother you, you like him being around you, you like being protected regardless of how many times you say you can do it yourself. You like his vengeful anger all just to protect you. Cregan—no.

Anyway, you take pleasure in being loved, and so beyond protected by him that he wouldn’t let you go, that he’d kill someone for you. That’s why you’re so attached, why you can’t seem to let him go either, because you know he’d burn the world if you asked, Cregan would probably let you die rather than burn the world, but that’s their difference in morality. You admire it from Cregan. And well, Cregan didn’t kill Lucerys, or go against your mother for a man that isn’t worth following.

Regardless! It smells like piss and shit, the man just shit himself as Aemond points the tip of his sword against his eye.

“Please Princess,” the creepy man keeps begging you. He even throws himself on the mud to plead his case. You sigh deeply and finally drop your gaze to look down at him.

How pathetic, just yesterday he was acting like the toughest man, now he’s weeping and covered in snot.

“Mercy,” he begs.

Hm.

“Fine,” you break your silence, earning shocked stares from everyone that was gathered around to watch the execution. “I’ll give it to you.”

“Y/N,” Aemond mutters, but you ignore him to continue and share the plan that came to mind.

“As long as I don’t find you. Or as long as my Astraea, or my husband don’t find you either.” You continue, and slowly make the man lift his gaze, but it quickly shifts to Astraea behind you leaning her head forward—“it’s a simple game. You’ll have a ten minute head start, after that you’ll feel the fear I did while everything around me burnt away. When you put that blade against my unborn children, and my neck.”

The man gets on his knees and looks even more terrified than relieved. Which is a success. You like to have fun too, regardless of how much you love that Aemond is seeking his revenge for you.

“But—”

“No,” you cut him off, “the time starts now. You better hope my dragon doesn’t find you. She does like to play with her food.”

The man blinks repeatedly in disbelief, he then looks over at Aemond as if seeking his approval. But all Aemond does is smirk maliciously. So when the man realizes that you’re being serious and that the men around you are following along, he quickly gets up but slips as he does. And when he begins to sprint away, he keeps stumbling over his own feet and the mud that the rain is creating.

Before he’s out of sight you turn and take your bow and arrow from one of your guards. Aemond takes this time to finally question your choices that you hadn’t discussed with him beforehand. “What do you think you’re doing? Why didn’t you tell me what you wanted to do?”

You begin to fix the string on your bow as you respond unbothered. “It just came to mind,” you share honestly. “Besides he wanted to kill me, he threatened the twins, our unborn children,” you say and turn to face him to grab his hand and press it against your belly. “Don’t you think I deserve to have the pleasure of executing this man?”

Aemond clenches his jaw and grabs your arm to lean closer and speak quieter. “You're in no condition to be running around.”

You lean towards him while you reach for his sword sheathed at his side. “Aemond, my love, I appreciate what you’re doing. I love it, but this is mindless fun. Please. We can do it together. You can execute him, just let me defend myself. I mean, I almost died because of him, I felt useless for the first time yesterday, let me make that up. Please.”

Aemond hesitates, so you pull out his sword and push his handle towards him.

“You know me, Aemond. You know I’m capable of hunting this man, and to wield weapons. I’m a Princess yes, but I’m a warrior too. You know that, you’ve known that. Don’t you love that about me?” You ask.

Aemond sighs out of pure annoyance to your persistence, but he doesn’t hesitate to answer you. “Yes. But it’s different. You’re not on dragonback. You’re close to going into labor. If something happens—”

You lift your hands to cup his cheeks and share a soft smile. “You’ll be with me the entire time. I’m wearing a chest plate. I’ll be fine.” You assure him. “Let’s show them we aren't to be messed with. That we are true warriors like our ancestors before us. That we’re the very image of our house, and who they should truly look up to.”

Half of what you just said was just to persuade him in ways that only you knew would work, and get him to accept you. It’s not to say you don’t actually believe what you said. You do, you live by it.

“Fine,” Aemond finally gives in with a small prideful smirk. “Let’s go find this man.”

You flash him a grin and then steal a sweet kiss from his lips. “I love you,” you murmur against his lips.

Aemond looks at you with a soft loving gaze before he turns around to look where you had last see the man, but he isn’t there anymore, or further down the street. He’s running through the woods. Smart.

He’s probably a local, he knows them better than Aemond and you, if he had a chance to escape the forest is his guarantee at it. But he’s underestimating you.

You’ll have to thank Cregan for teaching you how to hunt. Even through muddy terrains and rainy weather.

“The guards can stay here,” you demand and walk away from the umbrella that kept you dry, to lead the way through the woods. “They’ll only scare him off.”

You don’t see Ser Criston’s reaction, or that of the other people, you just walk on ahead after the footprints the man left behind. And Aemond, of course, quickly catches up to your side.

“He’s scared,” you tell Aemond as you lift your gaze off the footprints and steal a glance at Astraea as she ascends to the sky to join in the hunt as well—“He won’t be hard to find. He’ll be hiding or sloppily trying to lose our trail.”

“How do you know?” He asks.

You scoff as if it’s not obvious. “It’s instinct. Like an animal. Except animals are smarter when in danger.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question,” he counters softly.

You can’t really say that Cregan taught because well, you aren’t stupid enough to give that away. Nor can you tell him that your father could’ve taught you because he would know you’d be lying. So you’ll lie differently. “Lady Arra Norrey. She was the late wife of Lord Cregan Stark, and I was her ward. We became friends so she taught me.”

You can feel Aemond’s stare, but you know he’s not debating whether you’re lying or not, he’s just taking in what you said.

“You didn’t tell me,” he mentions.

You look over at him as you enter the woods, and scoff. “I would always tell you to take me hunting. You never wanted to.”

Aemond meets your gaze with a serious look and hums.

You snicker and nudge him. “Come,” you change the subject. “He’s gone this way.”

Aemond follows you, he follows your lead for some time, but he then tries to get ahead of you. He tries to lead the way, he did for sometime, but you’re quicker and smarter at this. You manage to spot a cave before you come across it, so you grab Aemond’s arm and pull him back with you.

You don’t say anything though, you simply tilt his head towards the direction of the cave so he can spot it himself.

The footprints keep going the other way, but Astraea is roaming the skies now too, he probably saw her and wanted to get out of her sight for the best chance of survival. Smart. But not enough. This is where he dies.

Thus, you pick up a small pebble off the ground. As you get up Aemond is about to speak, but you cover his mouth with your hand and put your finger against your lips.

“He’s gone this way,” you make sure to announce loudly whilst you hold Aemond’s gaze. “Come.” You throw the pebble where the false footprints lead, and quickly pull Aemond with you behind a tree to hide.

Your husband looks at you with a desire that makes his blue eyes darker, but he also looks at you with surprise that you knew this much. It excites him, and makes him desire you even more. But you’re currently working a task so he holds back. Besides just as you predicted, branches crack in the distance where the cave is. When you peek past the tree you’re against, you see the man coming out cautiously.

He’s gonna run the other way in an attempt to trick you, but you’re watching him so. And, just as he begins to sprint away, you come out of hiding whilst you draw back the bowstring.

Your swollen belly bothers the way you usually aim though. “Damn,” you grumble and shift your bow and stance so it’s not bothering you. When you’re comfortable with your position you then point ahead again. You draw out a deep exhale out of your mouth, and then clench your jaw in anger. And just before the man can get in your aim you let your arrow loose.

“Y/N,” Aemond begins to protest, but just before he can finish, the arrow hits the man right in the arm. And as to not let him escape you quickly pull out another arrow, and this one hits him right in his thigh, managing to knock the man off his feet and hit the muddy ground.

“Were you doubting me, dearest?” You tease Aemond as you hang your bow around you.

Aemond smirks at you softly and shakes his head while he caresses your chin. “I shouldn't have.”

He’s right he shouldn't have. Cregan wouldn’t have.

“Come,” you say and grab his hand. “You have a man to kill.”

Aemond’s smirk deepens, and he doesn’t fret to lead the way towards the man trying to drag himself away. When you do reach him, Aemond steps down on his bleeding wound, making him cry out.

“Please,” the man continues to beg. “It was Christopher Rivers, he gave me the order to kill the Princess. He works for someone at King’s Landing. But he won’t say who.”

So it was the Greens then. Again.

“Where is he?” Aemond demands to know as he drags his sword up to man’s eye. “Where is this man now?”

The creepy man swallows thickly. “Home,” he reveals shakily. “He lives in the village near here.”

Aemond hums and without warning stabs the sword in the man’s eye.

The man shrieks out, and you stiffen but keep your eyes on what’s happening.

When blood is pouring out of the man’s eye socket, and the eye itself is stuck to Aemond’s sword, he pulls it out, and then with one swift and mighty swing he cuts the man’s head clean off.

You feel no shame this time. Not after he attempted to kill you. “Bring the body too,” you let Aemond know. “Astraea can eat it.”

Aemond hums, and before wasting more time under the rain, you walk out of the woods. When you meet up with Ser Criston and the other men, Aemond gives you credit for the hunt and the critical hits you blew, but the men don’t care for you, they celebrate Aemond for giving the finishing blow.

So much for that. Hmph.

Yet, your annoyance doesn’t last because after Aemond mounts the man’s head on a spike over the entrance gate, he announces something else. “Bring back everyone that was spared yesterday. I’m going to finish what I started.”

His men don't even hesitate to listen, they run off to do as commanded.

“Aemond,” you try to protest. “The children had nothing to do with this. Don’t bring them into it. The man is dead. He’s gone.”

Aemond meets your gaze and cups your jaw. “You heard him, a bastard demanded you be killed—”

“But he was taking orders,” you cut him off. “We can just go after him. And that’s that. But—”

“No,” Aemond interrupts you and pulls you closer to him. “I won’t risk your life again. Nor that of my unborn children. You barely made it out, I won’t run the risk of your death becoming a reality.” He shakes his head, and his gaze softens. “I need you with me. I need you. You’re my light, without you I'll be left in the dark wandering life aimlessly. I can’t and I won’t see you die.”

You press your hands against his chest and look at him with defeat. But he takes that as appreciation. Which, you were touched by his words, but you felt mostly guilt over what he wants to do because this time there’s no mercy left to give.

“At least,” you say quietly. “Spare my handmaiden. Please.”

Aemond looks confused and over all disgusted by your request, but he nods nonetheless. “Fine.”

You muster a sweet smile before you embrace him so he won’t see your guilt and defeat that make your eyes water. He of course doesn’t hold back from hugging you back and kissing the top of your head for comfort.

“<I love you,” he whispers against you. “Now and forever.>”

You exhale softly and mirror his words. “<I love you too…Now and forever.>”

——

*LATER*

The slaughter was distasteful, you couldn’t stomach all those poor children crying out for mercy, crying out in pain. You couldn’t stomach the smell of death, the foul smell that came from the courtyard in their last moments of life before Aemond just swung his sword over them as if they were nothing but cattle to be slaughtered.

You left Dragonstone after protesting that what Daemon did was immoral, but now you have to stand and watch as Aemond does worse. So now you understand that your anger then was stupid, blinding.

Yet you don’t show your discomfort so as to not appear weak in front of the men, they already hated you. The vomit that did crawl up your throat, you swallowed back. You just watched numbly and wished nothing more but to be home with your mother, with Aerion. You want to talk to Baela, you want to see your grandfather. You miss them. You want to go home.

“Here,” Alys breaks you from your train of thought to hand you a single green leaf.

You narrow your gaze slightly and let out a nervous giggle. “A leaf?”

Alys scoffs softly and takes the leaf off your palm to twirl it in between her fingers. “It’s a raspberry leaf, it’s known to help women with labor.”

You smile softly and take it back. “Really? Ah, well it’s probably something I’ve used already. I just didn't know. Thank you.”

“I’ll make it into tea for you later,” she says and continues to walk with you down the hall. “You should know your herbs. Princess or not it’s important.”

You sigh. “Yes I should. I know some that my friend helped me identify in the forest. But…no matter how much I want to learn I think I’m used to having everything given to me without explanation.”

Alys smirks. “Can’t say I’d complain either if everything was handed to me on a silver platter.”

“Gold,” you snicker.

Alys’s green eyes dart to you, and she passes you a pointed look you laugh at.

“I’ll be honest, I’m grateful I was born a princess. I used to wish to be a commoner, to be able to leave whenever I wanted to, but now I’m glad I was born in my family.” You tell her with a soft smile. “I mean I think I still wish to leave on a ship, sail from land to land. Fly and fly with no real aim, but it’s different now. Everything is different.”

“What is?” Alys asks.

You come to a slow stop and slowly look out the large arched window. Alys doesn’t hesitate to stop with you, but she watches you rather than the falling rain outside. “Now,” you continue to share. “All I want is to go back home.” You approach the large window and rest your hands on the stone windowsill. “Yet,” you mutter and look away from the falling rain. “I can’t be home in peace…” you pause

A spider begins to crawl down the side and across the sill, you watch it stay in its normal slow pace before you kill it. “…until my enemies are crushed,” you finish saying.

Alys let’s out a deep breath and slowly approaches your side. As you hear her get closer the guards that had been trailing behind you shift closer just in case. But they shouldn’t fear her, you don’t.

“I believe,” she begins to say as she takes the leaf from your hand again. “That out of everyone, you can do it.” She lifts her green eyes that blazed brightly. “Watching you walk out of that fire unscathed proves you are the very dragon of your house, the dragon your husband can never be.”

You blink in slight surprise to her words, but manage to break from it to face your guards. “Leave us.” You demand.

Albeit the guards just stand still.

“I said leave us!” You demand louder. “And unless you want your eyes to be plucked out of your skull, I recommend you listen.” You sneer sharply.

The men look at each other, they hesitate, but they then turn on their heels and march away. It’s once they’re out of sight that you face Alys again. “It’s just heat tolerance,” you make excuses for what happened. For something you haven’t given much thought because if you do you’ll fall in a spiral of just thinking, of trying to come up with reasons as to why it happened.

“No,” Alys quickly turns you down. “If that was the case you would have died on your way out of your chambers. Your gown turned to ash, your hair stayed on your head, you are special.”

You scoff and laugh as you shake your head. “No. I’m a girl that comes from a family of dreamers, of dark magic users. It’s probably—”

“Just because your husband and the men around you don’t believe, doesn’t mean it’s not true,” she argues and takes your hands to pull them towards her. “You are special.”

She’s right, Aemond didn’t really think deeply into how it was possible that you lived yesterdays events. He said you got lucky, that you were smart to avoid the fire and take your gown off so you wouldn't be engulfed in flames. His men believe you just practically skipped over halls covered in burning flames. And no matter how many times you’ve proved yourself that those theories are wrong, you began to believe it too out of the sake of your sanity

“I saw you, Princess,” Alys says with an intense stare. “I saw you coming before you had even set foot out of your castle.”

What?

“I saw you and your husband, but it’s you I saw the most. I saw you surrounded by fire,” she adds. “I didn’t know what that meant until yesterday, when I saw you covered in ash outside of the burning tower.”

“Are you…a red priestess?” You ask out of curiosity.

“No,” Alys scoffs. “Nothing that fancy. I just see visions of what’s going to happen, or what’s happening. So I know you’re blessed, just like me.”

There was no alarm going off in your mind that’s telling you to not trust her, or to not believe what was coming out of her mouth. You believe every word. Or at least it’s easier to come to terms with the things she says she can do—or see.

“I told you that you need to prove to me that you should be respected,” she continues, and leans in closer. “I’m at your service. You tell me who you want crushed and I’ll make sure that they are.”

A friend? An ally to help this war come to a quicker end? How can you not say no.

“I should be cautious,” you admit. “But…I’m tired of losing my family. I want to go home…” you lower your gaze and sigh deeply. “What can you do?”

Alys pulls her hands away and looks out the window. “Many things,” she says. “Tell me what you want and I can find a way to do it.”

You hum and glance down the hall to make sure it’s clear before you lean in closer and speak quietly so people won’t hear. “I need you to cause a rift in a relationship. Get rid of a pest that’s been bothering me since I was a little girl.” You lick your lips and begin to smirk maliciously. “Don’t kill him, that will just make things suspicious. I just need you to…mess with his mind. You see my husband and Ser Criston have this bond like that of a father and son. Ser Criston has followed Aemond blindly since Aegon got injured…I can handle my husband, but it’s Ser Criston I need you to play with.”

Alys snickers. “I see the tension between the two of you,” she points out.

You roll your eyes in annoyance. “Ever since I can remember he's had this resentment towards me. I don’t know why, but he’s never been kind,” you grumble and pull away from the window to continue walking down the hall. “That’s why I need him out of here, or at least a bit manic so he makes poor decisions and creates some rift in this war. Just something to get him to lose.”

Alys was of course following beside you, so you don’t miss her nodding in comprehension.

“You don’t need to sleep with the man, okay? He’s an incel for one, and two, I don’t want you to do that for me. Just do what you can, do something…witchy.”

Alys let’s out a soft laugh at your choice of words, but nods nonetheless. “I know a few ways to do what you need of me,” she assures you.

You grin and quickly hook your arm around hers out of glee, managing to catch her off guard and grow stiff at the way you’re holding her.

“Great!” You exclaim. “If It’s money you want I can give you some in return. I of course will keep you under my protection, and from my Aemond’s path of revenge.” You try to comfort her.

“I don’t need money,” she rebuttals. “I believe in you. I’m at your service. All I ask of you is not to betray me.”

You drift your gaze to the side and make sure to meet her gaze. “That works both ways, Alys Rivers.”

Said women begins to smirk and offers you a small nod. You grin at her brightly and go on to look ahead.

Alas that’s when you spot Aemond entering the hall you're walking in. He’s with the guards you ordered away, and he looks annoyed.

“What are you doing?” Aemond sneers, and quickly catches Alys and shoots her dirty look before he storms towards you and pulls you away from her. “I placed guards with you for a reason. They’re here to protect you when I can’t,” he scolds you. “They’re meant to be with you at all times.”

You rip your arm away from his grip and glare at him. “You’re hurting me,” you grumble. “I just wanted to talk to Alys about women stuff, I can’t possibly do that with men around me. It was just for a few minutes, and nothing happened.”

“No, you’re lucky. She could’ve killed you,” he points at Alys. “Someone else could’ve.”

“But they didn’t!” You argue back. “I'm fine. I'm fine, Aemond. You needn’t worry. Okay?” You assure him while you grab his hands for comfort. “I'm okay. See?” You say as you press his palm against your chest so he can feel your heart beating. “My hearts beating. I’m fine. You don’t need to worry.” You muster a smile so he can be more at ease. “What do you say we go to our chambers and rest? I'm cold, I require some warmth from your embrace.” You giggle.

Aemond smiles down, and you press a kiss on his cheek before you caress his cheek. “Come. You can protect me all you want on our way there,” you snicker.

Aemond rolls his eye, but he doesn’t turn you down, he lets you hook your arm around his, and walks you to your chambers where it’s only the two of you. Just the way he likes it.

You can’t do much since you’re still heavily with child, but he does the best he can to pleasure you, and you do the best you can to pleasure him in the moment of peace you have. And just like you wanted he keeps you secured and warm in his embrace, letting you feel what you longed for, comfort and safety, love most of all.

Yet there was one thing missing. Home.

——

*SOMETIME LATER*

Gods…their voices are starting to sound like the constant annoying sound of a hammer against a fucking nail. It’s so dreading. Especially as sharp aches have been hitting your lower stomach. Not labor pain, you would have recognized that, it’s something else. It’s more painful. The only reason why you haven’t told Alys about it is because it’s probably normal, one of the twins is probably just kicking too hard, or moving to get ready to move out.

So you don’t bother anyone and just try your best to ignore the pain and listen as best you can. But again, it’s all dull talk. The only important news you did hear was that Ser Otto Hightower died sometime after your mother took her throne. Daemon did it the scroll read—good riddance to that old man.

Another piece of news was told too, this one wasn’t as exciting to you though; they said that the money that belonged to the Crown is gone from the vaults, leaving your mother to interrogate the Master of Coin and strategize some way to get the money back.

Perhaps you’ll ask Aemond later. He’ll probably tell you if you ask nicely. After all, you still are Princess Regent!

Furthermore, there’s more news that’s currently being told, and this one is quite thrilling. Which is that Ser Jason Lannister lost his life. As to who else? Or what were other casualties? You can’t know because the squire keeps pausing. As if he’s afraid to share what else there is to know.

“Well,” you interject in annoyance. “Spit it out already. We don’t have all day.”

The man swallows thickly and lets out a shaky sigh before he continues to read the scroll in his hand. “The Battle by the Lakeshore was lost. We took heavy losses, two thousand and more.”

And by a bunch of old men too. Way to go! Then again why did you expect otherwise, Northernmen are tougher than men in the south.

“The Westernmen were—” yet before the squire can finish, suddenly Aemond slams his fists on the table before he charges at the shaken squire, and wraps his hands around the boy's throat to begin strangling him out of anger.

“Aemond,” you call out and struggle to push yourself up. “Aemond.”

None of the other men tried to interject, they only watched Aemond succumb to his anger brought by more defeat. You though, you do try something even if the pain heighted as you stood up.

“My love,” you interject and grab Aemond’s arm. “He isn’t the man you should be angry at. He’s only a squire. Nothing more.”

Aemond scoffs and snaps his gaze to you. He looks into your pleading eyes, and sighs before he finally lets the poor squire go.

You offer Aemond a sweet smile and turn him away from the boy so he can catch his breath. Just before you can walk back to your spot around the table though, you just peer back at the squire with a serious face. “Get out of here,” you command so he wouldn't get hurt again. “Your presence isn’t needed anymore.”

“We need to discuss other matters,” you direct at Aemond and the group of men. “Like what we’re going to eat. How we will replenish our stables. We’re running short, and everything around here is burnt.”

Aemond pulls back your chair and helps you sit down.

“Well,” Ser Criston pitches with his head down. “We could withdraw South. If we stay here we’ll get surrounded and starve.”

“We can’t go back to the capital,” you argue. “At least not while every Dragonrider is still there.” Pain hits you again, sharper this time, like if you’re getting stabbed by sharp needles. However, you keep ignoring it right now or else these fucking men wont take you seriously.

“Vhagar—”

“Is big and experienced,” you cut Ser Mayfist off. “But once they see Aemond and Vhagar, she’s what they’ll target. We can’t just go in like fucking fools. We need to play smart. Wait.”

“Wait here?” Ser Criston snaps. “Might as well be dead then.”

Pain hits you again, this time you try your best to silence your groan while you press your belly hidden under the table. You don’t think Aemond catches you, but he does notice.

“My Prince,” Ser Criston continues with more desperstation. “You must hear my plea.”

Aemond walks towards the table and presses his hands on the table to lean in and respond nonchalantly. “Only a craven runs from traitors, Ser Criston. You taught me that.”

The knight draws in a deep breath as he holds Aemond’s hardened gaze and says nothing.

“This meeting is dismissed for now,” Aemond cuts the meeting short. “My y/n requires my attention.”

What?

Aemond offers you his hand, and you look at him confused, but take it nonetheless and let him help you to your feet.

“But—”

“Come up with an actual strategy Ser Criston,” Aemond snaps back as he presses one of his hands on your back. “And then come talk to me. Until then, no one disturb us.”

Just like that Aemond takes you with him out of the hall. You don’t bring up any battle strategies because the way he’s thinking benefits you, so it’s best if you stay quiet and just talk about matters not related to war.

“Are you okay?” Aemond asks you as you walk out of the dark hall and enter the south hall that leads to your chambers. “I heard you in there. Are you having your labors?”

You chuckle and shake your head. “No. You’d know. I think it’s just one of the babes, they’re really fussy.” You groan and drop your head on his shoulder as you hug his arm. Aemond then presses a kiss on the top of your head that makes you grin.

“We’ll meet them soon,” you muse in awe. “I feel it. And when they’re here we can finally bring out the dragon eggs that we brought. With luck they’ll hatch and we’ll have a black and a green hatchling! The second coming of Balerion and Vhagar.” You beam ahead.

“Aegon then, for a boy,” Aemond shares.

You look over at him with a pointed look. “Oh gods please no. We have too many Aegon’s right now as it is. I like our choices. We'll confuse the realm otherwise.”

Aemond chuckles softly.

You smile but it’s faint and short. “You think they’ll hatch? Aerion’s didn’t.”

Aemond sighs. “They will, I’m sure of it. And Aerion will claim his own dragon when he’s older. Like I did.”

Your smile returns wider now. “See I told you you had to be patient. I’m sorry such a happy night had to be spoiled though.”

“I was going to tell you, you know,” he says. “I was going to go find you in your chambers just to tell you.”

You grin and lift your head off his shoulder to meet his gaze. “Really? I was going to be the first?” You probe happily. “How exciting!”

Aemond hums.

As you reach the stone stairs that lead to the hall you’re staying at, you groan out of annoyance. So many stairs!

“Come I’ll help you,” Aemond says sweetly as he grabs your arm and guides you forward.

“It’s not that,” you grumble. “It’s the fact that there’s so many.” You look up at all the stairs that you have yet to climb and groan, but continue on ahead slowly by surely.

Why can’t he just carry you up those fucking stairs? It’d be much easier!

Nevertheless, when you reach the tenth stair you have to take a small break. “Fuck. I’m never having twins again. This is terrible.”

“Oh, really? I think it’s a blessing,” Aemond deadpans.

You blink and drag your eyes up to glare at him. When you meet his gaze he begins to show off half a grin.

“<You’re not funny,>” you grumble in Valyrian, and then proceed to push him away from you. “I’ll do it myself.” You continue to climb up, and Aemond doesn’t take long at all to catch up.

However you end up stopping again as you’re hit with a sharp pain.

“Gods,” you groan and grab at your belly.

Aemond instantly presses his hand on your back and leans down to try and meet your gaze. “What’s wrong? Should I get the maester?”

You let out a small breath and shake your head. “No, no. It’s okay. Let’s just get to our chambers. I think I just need to lie down.”

Aemond lets out a deep sigh and continues to help you climb the stairs.

“So,” you change the subject so you can keep your mind off the pain. “What are your plans now? Are we going to lure Daemon out? Or wipe out the surrounding enemies?”

“I wish to face my uncle, but considering they’ve just arrived at King’s Landing, it’s doubtful he’ll leave Rhaenyra’s side so soon,” he comments. “I'm going to find some way to lure him and others out to face me.”

You hum in comprehension. “Your hand would advise otherwise,” you say.

Aemond scoffs. “My hand wants to lose. If he marches out he’s nothing but a craven. There’s ways to continue fighting without running with his tail tucked between his legs.”

“Like?” You probe.

Aemond looks at you and mutters coldly. “Dragons.”

You nervously swallow thickly, but nod in agreement. You don’t add anything on the matter even if you want him to explain what plans he’s plotting with that meaning. Instead comment on other important matters.

“And Aegon? What will you do about him? Once he’s better he’ll require your help once more, he can’t do this alone. We both know he doesn’t have the mindset for it.”

Aemond let’s out a deep sigh and stops with you as you finally reach the top of the fucking stairs. “As you know, he’s not recovered enough to be present or coherent. I…”

You look over at him and see him tuck in his bottom lip, meaning he’s upset about what’s on his mind.

“What?” You press him softly.

Aemond meets your gaze. “I’d rather he not recover soon. Even if it means he's in pain and lost in his dreams. I want him to wake up again, I do,” he explains himself. “I want him to be the man that he was before, but…” he licks his lips. “Not yet.” He holds your gaze and without asking, without a single word you see the question he’s asking you in his gaze; “Does it make me a bad person?”

A power hungry one, but not bad. Not to you at least. So you caress his arm and assure him without addressing his question directly. “I understand. You just want what's good for your people, and to win this war. I do too.”

Not for Aegon though.

“Aegon will probably wake up angry, want blood for blood and ruin everything you built in his slumber. But I don’t think you should worry, you’re doing good and he’ll listen to you.” You turn and face him to take his hands in yours. “If not, you have the respect of the council. The fear of the people, without you Aegon has nothing but the shame of what he lost in battle. He’ll need you, he’ll have to listen to you. You’ll have control, you will.”

Aemond’s gaze softens and he doesn’t hesitate to lean in and steal a sweet kiss from your lips. “Come,” he changes the subject now that he’s content and comforted by what you said. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Just before you can take a step forward, he bends down and hooks his arms under you to carry you.

You’re surprised by his actions, but you can’t help but laugh. “What are you doing?” You ask.

“I can’t keep walking in that pace,” he teases. “Come on.” He tries his best to quickly get in your chambers, but you’re carrying two beings in you, so you’re slowing him down.

Albeit neither of you mind, you're too taken by your glee to care. When he does eventually make it to your room he kicks the door open and sets you down at the entrance.

“Wow,” you giggle. “It’s like after we got married! You were so sweet then.”

Aemond scoffs. “Aren't I now?”

You shrug. “I don’t know you’ll have to show me. Then I’ll tell you.”

Aemond smirks and carefully cups your cheeks to lean in and kiss you fiercely. You quickly cup his hands and deepen the passion, albeit you then brush your tongue over his bottom lip, making him groan with content.

You giggle softly, and he begins to push you back agasint the round table near the entrance. When your back hits the table you fumble with your hands to get ahold of the surface since neither of you pull away long enough.

Once you do get a hold of the table you push yourself up on the surface to wrap your legs around his waist, whilst you also begin to slide your hands to his buckles over his shirt.

Aemond pulls back and presses a kiss on the corner of your lips before he moves down to leave a trail of kisses on your neck, making you pause your attempts to undress him to instead bask in the pleasure. He finds enjoyment in your actions and snickers as he also slithers his hands to the back of your gown.

However, before he can even try to pull apart your gown, another strong wave of pain hits you. This time it’s stronger and makes you cry out.

Aemond quickly pulls away, and you have to slide off the table to grab your belly.

“Y/N?” Aemond whispers.

You cry out again and feel tears sneaking out. It feels like the pain will last forever, but it calms down. Albeit that’s when you feel something warm streaming down your legs. Something that doesn’t feel right.

“Oh no,” you gasp and quickly pull up your skirts. Aemond watches you not knowing what’s going on.

Not until he sees the blood that’s dripping down your legs.

“I,” you stammer in a shaky voice. “I think the twins are coming.” You reach your hand down to wipe your fingers over the blood just to make sure you’re not panicking.

After all this happened to your mother. She bled before she miscarried Visenya. What if?

No. No.

“Aemond,” you whimper and meet his gaze with tears gleaming over your eyes. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

Another wave of pain hits you right then, and you cry out louder. Aemond grabs your arms and yells out at the guards. “Get the maester! Someone get the fucking maester!”

What if you’re miscarrying too?

Only your mom will know. She needs to be here. You want her here. “Aemond,” you cry, “I’m scared.”

“It’s okay, It’s just the babies, they’re coming. Just…” Aemond trails off and walks you over to sit on the bed. But that hurts, so you get up and begin to pace around.

“Y/N, you need to sit down, it’s not good to be walking around,” Aemond says beside you as he still holds onto your hand. “Please.”

You shake your head and feel more blood dripping down your legs. “No, it hurts. I just need…my mother.” You look over at him and meet his gaze. “Please. I’m scared.”

Aemond swallows thickly knowing that’s something he can’t give you. Instead he leaves your side and charges at one of the guards outside the doors, he grabs them by the collar and sneers. “Bring that bastard handmaiden here.”

“Aemond,” you try to calm him down as you stop to lean against a chair.

Said man looks back and shoves the guard back to return to your side. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “You’ll be okay. I won’t let you die.”

The pain is constant now, and pressure on your lower belly adds to the fire. Aemond tries to sit you down, but the pressure doesn’t let you, and the pain is overwhelming, so you have to keep moving.

“I need my mother please,” you beg mostly without thinking. Your fear just rattles you.

“She won’t come,” Aemond responds. “I'm here.”

You grab his shoulders and don’t feel content by his comment, but you are somewhat assured.

“I’m here,” he whispers and wraps his arms around you to begin rubbing your back, whilst you lean your forehead against his shoulder.

Shortly after the maester comes rushing in with a handful of midwives. “I’m here, forgive me I was at the other side of the castle,” he says quickly. “Bring her here, to the edge of the bed.”

Aemond turns you around and walks you to where the maester points to.

“She started to bleed,” Aemond reveals with panic in his voice. “Is that normal?”

The maester stays quiet and watches you lay back on the bed. It can’t be a good thing.

“Bleeding is normal while in labor,” the maester answers a few seconds later. “I wouldn’t grow concerned, my Prince. Delivering twins is harder than one single babe, there’s so much more strain on the body.”

The maester then proceeds to check you for a moment. When he’s done he lets your skirts go and turns to face Aemond with no expression. “The baby’s are coming. The princess is dilated completely. The first baby’s head is low. I can feel it.”

You smile through your pain and can’t help but bring up a question. “Are they okay? It doesn’t feel right.”

The maester keeps his eyes on Aemond and nods. “Yes. I feel their heartbeats, something within just erupted, causing the bleeding. But the babes should be fine.”

“And the princess?” Aemond asks.

“She’ll be fine for delivery,” he avoids the question, making you grow concerned.

“Aemond,” you mutter as you let the midwives help you sit up. “Aemond, I don’t want to die. I’m scared.”

Said man turns and faces you with concern painted all over his face. “You wont. You wont.” He cups your cheeks and presses a kiss on the top of your head.

A knock then raps on the door, but they don’t wait for permission, the door opens and Alys walks in. “Princess?” She asks before you see her approaching the cluster of women around you. She instantly notices the blood and exhales deeply.

“What?” You query her reaction. “Is something wrong? Tell me please.”

Alys meets your gaze. “You shouldn't be bleeding this much.” She snaps her head to the maester and shoots him a pointed look. “What have you done to stop it? If she keeps bleeding she’ll die before the babies can come out.”

You look at Aemond with concern, and he approaches Alys to grab her arm and turn her to face him. “Can you help her?”

Alys sighs as she steals a glance at you. “I can try. I have a remedy that can slow the bleeding.” She responds.

“It can harm the children,” the maester argues. “I won’t risk it.”

Aemond let’s Alys go and snaps back at the maester. “And I wont risk letting my wife die.” He turns and points at Alys. “Help her.”

Alys nods and quickly faces the midwives. “Let’s get her in a lighter gown. And have water heated. I’ll fix the remedy in a tea.” Alys steps towards you and meets your gaze. “You’ll be fine, Princess. I know it.”

Tears born out of fear roll out of your eyes. She’s the only person who isn’t against your mother here besides you, everyone else is standing behind Aegon's banners, they won’t listen to you, but she will. “My mother. If…if I don’t make it. Tell her I tried. Please.”

Alys swallows thickly and shakes her head. “Don’t talk like that. You’ll make it. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Okay,” you mewl. You want something else from her, another message to be sent just in case. But Aemond is here, too many other people are here for you to tell her that you want her to send Cregan a message.

So let’s hope you can see him in person at least once again. You’ll tell him then. As for now you let it go and focus on nothing else but the pain that ensues, the pressure that heightens, and the thick beads of sweat that form all over your body and bathe you completely. Like promised Alys makes the remedy for you, it smells weird and it tastes sour, but you force yourself to drink all of it in one go even if the maester disapproves of it.

The maester also said the babe would come soon, but time passes and everything stays the same. The bleeding slowed down to trickles until finally you didn't feel it anymore. Exhaustion took its place instead, you can’t keep up on your legs anymore, so they have you lay back on the bed. Your desire to have your mom never leaves, you keep asking for her in between the waves of pain that hit you, even if you know your requests are futile.

The fear also doesn’t vanish, but having Aemond holding your hand and refusing to leave your side keeps you as calm as you can be at this very moment. Furthermore, eventually Alys kicks out most of the midwives, leaving just two behind, and taking control herself. You half expected her to kick out the maester who never talked to you or her directly, but he stayed and Alys just kept staring daggers at the old man.

And thankfully after what felt like an eternity of pain, the first babe begins to come out. You push and push with not as much fear because for this babe your senses don’t alarm you, something is still amiss, even if the maester keeps repeating that it’s just nerves. The pain of course is excruciating, but you have gone through this before; you keep telling yourself that. This is nothing to fear, you’ve gone through all this before. You’ll be fine and get to see your twins, you’ll get to raise them.

You want to raise them, you want your mother to meet them, so you fight for that. You muster up strength and push. After a few intense moments finally the first baby comes out and a cry fills the room the moment their lungs draw in their first breath.

“It’s a girl,” the maester announces. “A healthy princess.”

You share a tired but happy look with Aemond. “Daenys,” you whisper.

Aemond nods, and you both quickly snap your attention to the midwife bringing over the babygirl for Aemond to hold.

And perhaps it was bad, terrible of you, but the first thing you pay attention to is her hair. As the midwife brings her close to Aemond, you watch her head. If she has dark hair there’s excuses, but it will make one thing clear to you.

Alas, when the midwife brings her close enough so you can see, you grin with relief as her little strands of hair shine a blond-silver color, just like Aemond’s. She’s Aemond’s baby. She is, you can feel it.

Albeit before you can rejoice over Daenys, the pain continues stronger than before, making you yell out and causing Daenys to shriek out louder too. The midwife continues to try and introduce the baby to Aemond, but he snaps back angrily. “Get that thing away from me.”

She was his, her hair color matched his, there was no sign of anything strange to anger him, or suspect of wrongdoings. So his anger isn’t because of that, but over the fact that the twins could make his worst fear a reality.

“Aemond,” you say hoarsely, and squeeze his hand so he can look at you. “It’s not their fault. Please…don’t be angry at them. Please.”

Aemond scoffs as he shakes his head. “Do you really expect me to love the thing that takes you away from me?” He shakes his head again and caresses your forehead. “No. You can’t ask me that. Don’t ask me that.”

You hold his gaze, you want to argue, plead in the baby's case, but you can’t, more pain bombardes you. The second baby is coming, that sense that somethings amiss fully overwhelms you now. It terrifies you more than before. And the fact that the maester looks nervous when he looks away from you doesn’t ease any worries.

“My prince,” the maester interjects in a cautious voice. “May I speak to you in private?”

Aemond looks at the old man with a clenched jaw before he breaks away from you for the first time to approach the maester by the door.

The maester proceeds to speak in murmurs so you can’t hear what he’s starting to tell Aemond. Thankfully Alys comes to where Aemond once was. “What’s wrong?” You ask her while you keep your eyes on the men. “What’s he telling him?”

“The maester is going to make him—” yet before she can give you an answer, she cuts herself off as Aemond suddenly begins to strangle the maester.

“If my wife dies,” Aemond sneers loudly right by the man’s face. “I’ll make sure you die too. So you better make sure that you save her and only her. You understand?”

“Aemond,” you call out.

But this time he doesn’t listen, you see him tighten his hold around the man’s throat until the maester nods in comprehension.

“The babe is breached,” Alys continues, pulling your eyes away from the maester panting as he catches his breath. “That’s what they’re not telling you.”

You’ve heard of that before, it’s when the baby is coming out the other way around instead of head first. It can be dangerous. Deadly for you and the baby.

Yet it’s not really the baby’s life you fear. You should. That should your priority, but you fear your life more.

“Nothing will happen to you,” Alys assures you. “I swear it.”

You hold her blazing green eyes and exhale softly. “You’ll stay with me right? Don’t leave.” You plead.

Alys’s gaze narrows with determination, but you can see sincerity as well behind her eyes. “Never,” she says.

You muster an exhausted smile and offer her a nod as well. Aemond then comes back and takes his place back at your side.

“You’ll be okay,” he whispers as he wipes the sweat away from your forehead. “You will.” He takes your hand in his and presses a kiss on your knuckles.

Your fate isn’t determined by his words, or promises, but you do feel comforted, like if he could control your fate so you wouldn't meet the darkness that is death today.

“<Now and forever,>” you whisper to him softly. “<We are meant to burn together. Now and forever.>” Your lips twitch to a smile, and Aemond finds some sort of comfort in your words.

Yet it’s not enough because the pain returns. This time it doesn’t take breaks, it’s ongoing, strong and exhausting. You could stay strong and keep awake for the first birth, but this time around it’s getting hard to keep your eyes open. The hold you have around Aemond’s hand loosens, and you begin to heave with the more strain you put on your body so the babe can come out.

“Princess, you have to keep pushing,” the maester exclaims. “The babe is almost out! If you don't, the Princess will suffocate.”

Princess?

“Daenerys,” you whisper happily.

“Y/N,” Aemond whispers by your ear. “My love, you have to keep awake okay?”

You shake your head. “I can’t. I’m tired…please…I want my mother.”

“Get that damn baby out!” Aemond shouts at the maester.

Now your vision begins to blur, and the sounds around you begin to turn to incoherent muffles. However, you still express your emotions to the man beside you. “Aemond…”

Said man meets your gaze with his eye wide and filled with tears. “I’m here,” he says.

He’s the only thing you see, his beautiful face, his gleaming blue eye. Yet what you wanted to tell him doesn’t come out, you can’t finish what you wanted to say. The pain fades completely as a different, sharper cry breaks in the room.

“She’s here! She’s breathing! Healthy!”

“Daenerys,” you muse as your exhaustion begins to take over your mind.

“Y/N?” Aemond calls out and begins to shake you. “You can’t close your eyes. Don’t. Please….”

What does Daenerys look like?

That’s the last thing you think of before the exhaustion forces you unconscious.

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut

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coentinim · 2 months

Text

JPM headcanons

I've been wondering, how would a relationship with James actually look like? Well, not that great. Passionate for sure, though.

Lovebombing is basically his second name. Any time he wrongs you or lashes out, expect expensive gifts and a ton of petnames that are ultimately meaningless.

He would be faithful and stop his adventures with his victims. And he expects you to do the same, so if you cheat, he doesn't take kindly to that. Makes you watch the other guy's brutal torture probably, or "accidentally" lets you hear his pleading for mercy. He tolerated it with Elizabeth because technically death did them part imo, but he DID burn a guy because he failed her expectations. Imagine what he'd do to a sneaky link.

If you ask him to stay with you as you fall asleep - to read to you or just talk, I have no clue if he even sleeps at all - expect descriptions of your demise. He will whisper them sweetly as if they're compliments, and the methods will vary from painless and quick to agonizing yet sort of romantic.

Will have a masochistic attachment to you forever. Man loves rejection actually.

Doesn't believe in hitting women but if you curse he might slap you once lmao

Would go crazy if you killed someone in front of or with him. Like, actually ready to undress right there and then. The crime scene actually makes it hotter for him. So, it's a persistent fantasy of his to have you kill someone.

Control freak and manipulative. "Darling, are you sure about wearing that? I know a gown more flattering to your curves". When he doesn't want to show you off sometimes (bcs he usually does), he preys on your insecurities lol

Would actually force you to watch him kill someone. Maybe even force you to somehow participate. Might hold you firmly or otherwise physically restrain you. Gaslights you after, making you feel like he did nothing wrong, like it's not even a big deal.

Would never punish you physically (as I said, doesn't believe in hitting women), but does torture you mentally as a "punishment". Might include locking you up somewhere or exposing you to danger. Bonus points because you cling to him for comfort later. Manipulative fuck.

TL;DR: manipulative, controling, mean and full of shit but treats you like his queen usually

@nahoyasboyfriend @maeriavizsendingjpmdose @feefymo @kai-slut @fear-is-truth

His initials look gorgeous in the Lucille font

Uhh sorry if you didn't wanna be tagged in my bullshit😅

#IS THIS CRINGE #james march #the ahs brainrot tag #james patrick march #ahs #ahs hotel

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rainbowsillz · 8 months

Note

uh uh what if—overblot riddle staining ink blots over a part of you to claim you as his.,.,,. like, think of it as a mark!1!

AKDMAJA literally got this from shye's AI so big thanks for shye!!

he grabs your chin with and rubs the ink blot along your skin, "wear this ink as a tribute to your queen. wear it and feel its grip, its grasp and how it clings to you. everytime you look in the mirror, you will remember that i own you."

the whole thing is not mine btwbtw BUT THIS,, ATLEAST,, SOMEHOW— made me giggle.

“ Thinking about running away? How unwise of you. ”

FT. Yan! Overblot Riddle X GN! Reader.

Tags: Possessiveness, forced relationship, non-consensual touching, Riddle is not kind, etc.

CW: Suggestive.

...How could anyone knew he'd went berserk over it?

Riddle — you should chillax.

So anyway you and your companions called him out on his obsession of following the rules.

The next part was him overblotting and many residents shouted and chaos occurred there.

He wasn't letting you off that easy though.

I'm sending holy water for you, prefect.

By his behavior, hell would break loose the moment he did catch up to you. It doesn't matter how, Riddle can and he will always, always have you. How far are you? Maybe he'll allow it at first. Feigning ignorance that he can't pinpoint your spot. And when you least think it? He'll shred every puny hope you had to leave his dormitory.

He'll ridicule you with his laugh when your round eyes welled with tears because his grip bruised on you. Your pain could not compare to his.

What good is Ace? Stop defending him!! You only need him! He would have spared you from these heartaches if you had listened to him..

Troublemakers must be disciplined.

In his madness, at the back of his head, he's aware that this wasn't logical, putting his frustrations on someone he admires was dogmatic. Though he can't focus on anything, he was filled with so much pessimism and anger.

You can squirm, yet his puissance and the phantom that loomed behind him would use its hand to clutch you, not too aggressive since Riddle wasn't going to eradicate you by that.

As they said, death was the most merciful choice at times, and oh how could he ever harm a naive little thing like you for his sick mind?

The housewarden wasn't that immoral.

A malign smile was on him, his face inches to you as if to register your terror he had done.

“..Are you going to cry? Does it hurt?”

The dorm leader whispered, it was near genuine, as if he wasn't wreaking havoc in Heartslabyul.

Don't you fall for this act of his, it's not kindness that he will show you, it's cruelty. He finds entertainment in the way you despaired, or that you think you can skip yourself out of the plight.

However to that question...

“It IS supposed to be a sanction. You are adorable in this state. You're beautiful.”

In fact, he was giddy to be the cause of your misery. You deserved it for siding with your friends. And he'll make sure you will be getting the bitterness of what humiliation would be.

Your answer won't be improving the situation T_T as he was not hearing you out.

He has been looking after you from the beginning up to today, so forgive him for being rough in his treatment with you, if it were the usual him, you may have a chance to reason or talk him out of whatever it was he needed.

You doubt you can do that currently.

His scarlet eyes scared you. Unstable breathing of yours spurred him to be inquisitive, and his fingers covered with substances you can't name placed underneath your jaw, the ink was sloughing your body and clothing you had.

If you were the others, you wouldn't be this fortunate, you should've thanked him.

Wave goodbye to your liberty because he was dragging you to where you had no clue of.

Black smudged on your hair, nape, wrists, pants, it's implied that you were his. No one should lay gaze on that which belongs to him! He was the queen, and your job was to be a tender darling.

A constricted emotion stirred inside him, he wondered how you would scream beneath him.

It was unbecoming for a dorm leader to be unsavory and having the dirtiest thoughts.

The restraint he had was diminishing because his desires were overwhelming to suppress.

Would you curse? Or would you beg to him?

You were babbling incorrectly for him to come to his senses. The red head was unfazed by that.

You were like an art for him.

Fantasizing about the distorted picture with him discarding you from your apparel.

Should he or shouldn't he?

There was no savior or knights coming for you.

He could have indulged himself, and you wouldn't be able to push him away either.

It was in the labyrinth that he took you to, away from civilization, away from any people.

Riddle almost wished that he could blemish onto your complexion with his affections, markings will fade, much to his displeasure.

That's fine.

He can imbed carvings. Later. Some scars can be interred into memories, don't they, hm?

His lips grazed your neck, the blot can disappear, his feelings on the other hand won't.

#twisted wonderland x you #twisted wonderland x reader #twst headcanons #yandere twst #twst prompts #twst riddle x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst x you #twst x reader #gender neutral reader #etihw.writes

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circle-with-me · 4 months

Text

‘tis the damn season - part 3

Pairing: Will Ramos x OFC (Gen/Viv/Vivvy)

Content Warning: hurt/comfort, more hurt/no comfort, angst, fluff, mentions of death, funerals, mentions of alcohol,

Word Count: 2.7k

Tag list: @concretenoah @deathblacksmoke @midnight-eternals @bngurngheart @malice-ov-mercy @witchyweeb34 @lyschko666 @cookiesupplier @lilrubles @meekahy @lacktoesandtoddlerants

If you would like to be added to my tag list for this series or my other works, please sign up here.

Author’s Note: Hey guys. I’m so sorry this part took so long! Getting sick really threw me for a loop but I’m back at it now. Thanks for being so patient! I promise we’re getting into the cute stuff soon! I won’t make you suffer much longer 😂 Thank you all for reading 🫶

The funeral home didn’t look as mundane with all of the flowers decorating it. A pleasant floral scent was doing its best to cover up the previously musty one, but it still lingered in the air. Gen observes each arrangement quietly. Recognizing some names, others she didn’t. She appreciated the gesture but didn’t have a clue what she was going to do with all of these flowers after the funeral was over.

She walks further into the visitation room avoiding the open casket. The casket spray lying on the closed end looked better than the photos. A mix of red rose and white carnations on top of green ivy and salal. A variety of standing sprays and tabletop bouquets with the same arrangement were scattered around the room. It was all part of a decor package the funeral home offered that Gen hastily picked to make the experience as painless as possible. It all turned out much better than she expected.

“Ms. Taylor?” The man’s voice startles her as she whips around to see Mr. Akins, the funeral director.

Gen smiles at the man. “Morning, Mr. Akins.” He smiles back. “I hope everything is placed to your liking.”

“Everything looks great, thank you.”

“Do you have any other family members coming for the preview?” He asks. Gen shakes her head. “Well, would you like to have a moment alone with your father?”

“I’ve had plenty of time already, thank you.”

Mr. Akins smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Very good, ma’am. There are already guests waiting in the lobby. I’ll let them know the visitation has begun.”

Nearly two hours later and her head was pounding. Her cheeks were hurting from faking smiles. If she had to listen to one more person tell her how much Gabriel had missed her and how they couldn’t believe she had stayed gone so long she was going to blow her brains out.

The line finally starts to thin out and Gen feels herself relax a little. She spots a mess of blonde curls a few people back and tenses again. She avoids his gaze until he’s right in front of her, his eyes soft as he peers down at her. It wasn’t a look of pity but of understanding. Despite their years apart, no one in the room knew how she felt in this moment better than he did.

“What are you doing here?” Gen asks quietly.

Will shoves his hands into his dress pants pockets and bounces on the balls of his feet. He shrugs and smiles. “What else do I have to do on a weekend other than attend my ex-girlfriend’s estranged father’s funeral?”

Gen laughs. “Literally anything else sounds better than this. You shouldn’t torture yourself at my expense.”

Will bobs his head from one side to the other. “Maybe not, but I figure I at least owe you a drink or something after I showed my ass yesterday.”

Maybe it was the sweetness of the gesture. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was how good he looked in those dress clothes. Or maybe she was just desperate to get out of that damn funeral home, but she decides to take Will up on his offer.

It was just a drink. That was all. An “I’m sorry for being a jerk” drink. She owes him one of those by her count, as well.

Luckily, the funeral went by quickly with no complications. There was no graveside service and Gen was thankful she had made that decision. She wasn’t sure she could sit through another fake speech about the man.

“Hmph.”

Gen turns to see Will leaning against a pew toying with the knot of his tie. A look of discomfort was plastered across his face. She smirks and walks up to him. Loosening the tie she raises it over his head and hands it to him.

“I practically had to threaten you to wear a tie on our prom night and you wear one willingly to my father’s funeral? You really are sucking up.”

Will chuckles. “I’ll have you know I wear ties to all major occasions now, thank you.”

“Mmm. How very grown up of you, William.” Gen says, smiling.

“Yeah, I’ve done a bit of that.” He says it so plainly Gen couldn’t quite catch the meaning behind it. The look on his face didn’t give anything away either. He certainly didn’t appear angry so she didn’t overthink it.

“You ready to get out of here?” Gen asks. He nods. “Where are we going?”

“We can always go to Gabriel’s. I’m staying there as of this morning until I can get it sold. To no one’s surprise, there is plenty of liquor there.”

“Hell yeah, I’m down. He always bought the good shit.”

Gen places a hand on his shoulder as she starts to walk out of the room. “Great, you can also help me start to clean some of his shit out while you’re there.”

Will’s mouth drops open as he follows her outside. “Uh-uh, that’s bullshit! I didn’t sign up for that!

Will helps Gen bring her bags into the home, the floors creaking as he sits them down in the foyer.

“Fuck.” They say in unison.

Gen definitely had her work cut out for her. Hundreds of newspapers, magazines, and books were in stacks all over the house. Some of the stacks were nearly as tall as she was. The kitchen was a disaster. She didn’t even dare to open the refrigerator and she was pretty sure the mold in one of the bowls in the sink had developed its own space program. Every surface of the home was covered in a thick layer of dust and it clearly hadn’t been cleaned at all in years.

She’s seen worse episodes of Hoarders. She could handle this.

Her biggest concern was somewhere to sleep. She avoids her father’s room because fuck that. She wasn’t quite ready to go into her childhood room yet. So that left the guest room. She opens the door and it appears to be perfectly intact. Thank God for that.

Gen shut the door quickly.

“Well, the good news is, I have a place to sleep.” she says loudly.

“I have better news.” Will yells from across the house. “I found the good shit!” His head pokes out from around the corner as he raises a bottle of liquor in his hands.

“The couch is still in good condition too. Get your ass in here.”

“Okay, so you’re telling me that’s you?”

Will grins and nods. “That’s me.”

Gen blinks rapidly and points at his phone where the song was playing. “That is you? It sounds like an animal!”

Will threw his head back laughing. “They’re called pig squeals, Vivvy.” Gen starts to say something about the nickname but was too occupied by the smile on his face. It was a smile that spread across his whole face causing his cheeks to crease, showing his dimples. Her favorite part was his scrunched nose and how his eyes crinkled around the corners.

A warmth that she had not felt in years carves its way into her chest and spreads through her. The temptation to let it consume her was strong, but she shakes her head, almost as if she was telling her body no, and pushes it away.

“That’s definitely a sound I have not heard in music before.”

“Oh come on.. none of the artists you work with do pig squeals?” Will nudges her with his elbow.

Gen looks at Will and snorts, causing him to laugh again.

“Not quite. Most of the music I mix is indie pop or sickeningly sweet bubblegum pop that makes you want to shove the nearest sharp object into your ear drums.” She explains with a sarcastic smile.

Will sucks in a breath. “Yeah, I don’t envy you at all.”

“It’s not all bad. The pay is great and I love L.A. Everything I could ever want is there.”

Will scoffs and takes a swig of his drink.

“What?”

Will shook his head. “Nothing.” He was quiet and refusing to look at her now. A crack on the coffee table had suddenly become very interesting to him. Gen watches him run his index finger over it a few times before looking at his face. His left eyebrow was cocked and his jaw was working overtime. He was definitely upset.

She doesn’t get a chance to pry again because her phone starts to ring. Natalie’s name shows up on the screen and Gen groans at the bad timing. She knew if she didn’t answer that Natalie would call her incessantly.

“Hey, Nat, now’s not the best time. Can you ca-“

“GEEEEENNNNNNNN!!!!!” She hears both Natalie and Ezra yell on the other end. They were obviously plastered. Perfect.

“Guys this is no-“ She tries, once again.

“Gen Taylor! When are you coming home?! We miss you!” Ezra yells.

“I’m not sure yet, Ez.” She says, leaning back against the couch. “I’m gonna have to stay longer than I thought.”

“Boooooo!” There was Natalie. “It should be illegal to keep you in that horrible town, Gen. You need to come back home where you belong!” She says it so loud it makes Gen wince. She silently hopes Will didn’t hear it.

Evidently it was loud enough for Will to hear because he pushes himself off the couch in a huff and stalks to the kitchen. She hears him throw his ice in the sink and fill his glass with water.

“It’s not a big deal, Natalie. I’ll take care of everything and be home soon.”

This time she hears the glass being thrown in the sink.

“Listen, I really have to go. I’ll call you guys later.”

“BYE GEEEEEEN-“ She cuts them off before they can continue. She sighs and gets up from her seat. Guess she was going to have to deal with this sooner or later.

Gen steps quietly around the corner of the kitchen to see Will at the sink, his back facing her. His hands rest on the counter, head lulling between his shoulders. She stands there, fidgeting and trying to come up with something to say. Will beats her by breaking the silence first.

“So, Los Angeles is your home now, huh?”

Gen sighs. “It’s where I live, Will.”

“That’s not what I asked.” He turns around and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “You consider Los Angeles to be your home?”

Gen gazes at him momentarily. “It’s where I live. It’s where my job is. All of my friends live there. So, yeah, I consider it to be my home.”

“What happened to New York?”

“It was great, but I got a promotion. So, they sent me to Los Angeles.” She pauses to consider her next comment. “Clearly I’m not as weak as you thought I was.”

“Viv, I never said you were weak.” Will scoffs.

“I believe your exact words were ‘You’ll never make it in New York. They’ll eat you alive.’ Am I wrong?”

“I didn’t say that because I thought you were weak.”

“Then why did you say it?!” Gen yells

“Because you didn’t belong in New York!” Will yells back. “Just like you don’t belong in Los Angeles!”

“Yeah, because I belong here in Westwood? Suffocating here…. with you? Working at a shitty studio while we’re barely able to pay our bills. Giving up my dreams to make you happy while I’m dying inside?”

Will’s face twists in pain at her words. Gen has never wanted to disappear more than she did at this moment. She did feel suffocated when she was here but it wasn’t his fault. Why the fuck was she like this?

“I- I thought we were happy.” Will stutters, looking down at his feet.

Gen sighs and runs her hand through her hair. “We were, Will. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I just don’t understand why you wanted to leave so badly.”

“Jesus Christ, don’t you get it? I didn’t want to leave you, I wanted to leave here. I wanted to get away from all the fucking memories of my parents, and start over somewhere new. I wanted our life together to be more than some tiny town in New Jersey where we were constantly living paycheck to paycheck. I wanted to stop having to look over my shoulder to make sure my asshole father wasn’t behind me everywhere I went. I wanted to be able to start a career and get comfortable financially so you could start a band and do what you love, too. All of my plans involved you. I tried to explain this but you couldn’t see past me leaving.”

“Viv- I..”

“When you told me I couldn’t go, I was devastated. It made me feel like you didn’t believe in me. What made it worse was that you just watched me leave. You didn’t even try to stop me.”

“Baby, I was angry. I was so angry for a long time. I was an idiot and waited too long. I tried calling you several months later but you had already changed your number. I couldn’t find your name or address anywhere. It was like you disappeared.”

Gen laughs humorlessly, “Yeah, Will, I did that on purpose. Mostly because of Gabriel but also because I was angry too. I changed my last name and now everyone calls me Gen even though I fucking hate it. And you wanna know why?”

Will gazes at her but doesn't respond. She walks closer to him with tears in her eyes. As soon as he sees them, he inhales sharply.

“It’s because I couldn’t fucking stand the thought of anyone but you calling me Viv. Or Vivvy. It made my fucking skin crawl.” Gen pushes a finger into his chest. “And you stand there and call me both as soon as you lay eyes on me. They just roll off your tongue like you never stopped saying them and I hate it because I can’t let you back in my head. I can’t.”

Will grabs her wrist gently and brings her hand to his face. Gen attempts to pull it back but his grip tightens. He leans into her touch and kisses the palm of her hand. A quiet sob leaves her and he shushes her gently, kissing his way up her arm and to her face. He kisses away the tears falling down her cheeks. His lips ghost over hers as he cups her face. They stare at each other for a moment, both trying to determine if the moment was real.

Will decides he had waited long enough. He had been dying to taste her again for so long. Pressing his lips gently against hers, he feels her go rigid then relax. Her body melts into his as one of his hands makes its way into her hair. He swipes his tongue against her bottom lip and she gives him access.

She tastes even better than he remembers. The mixture of peppermint and whiskey invades his senses. He could kiss her forever and never get tired of it. He never wants the moment to end. She was here. She was perfect. She was his, again.

At least, so he thought.

He feels her tense again, her grip around his waist loosens slightly. He wraps his arm around her waist hoping to keep her close but she was already separating their lips. She stares at him, panting.

“We can’t do this. I’m sorry.” She says as she takes a few steps back.

“What do you mean?” He asks, confused.

“I mean we can’t do this. It’s not a good idea. I’m only here to get this house cleaned up and sold and then I'm going back home. I’m not interested in whatever this is.”

Will stares at her in stunned silence. She won’t even look at him.

“Baby...”

“Will, just… Please leave.” Gen says sternly, she turns slightly and points in the direction of the door.

He starts towards the door and stops in front of her. Turning to face her, she still avoids his gaze.

“Just so you know. This is your home. Not this house but this ‘horrible town’ you’re in right now. Not a single one of those people in L.A. will ever care about you the way that I do.”

Will storms out the door, slamming it shut as he leaves.

Part Four

#will ramos #lorna shore #willramos #lornashore #william ramos #will ramos x ofc #will ramos fanfiction #will ramos fic #will ramos fanfic #will ramos rpf #will ramos x reader #lorna shore band #lorna shore fanfiction #lorna shore fic #lorna shore fanfic #lorna shore rpf #lorna shore x reader

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victheclown · 2 months

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Paper Mario: The Origami King

Stationary Locked

An AU where Olly strives for more than just getting rid of all Toads.... And where he will use any means to achieve this.

(Story and Explanations under cut. Mind the tags for any potentially uspetting content, I'll try to tag it best I can.)

Stationary Locked starts very normal, like the actual game, with the only difference at the very beginning seemingly that Olivia gets folded a little later on. We will get to her later though....

Olly had put his original plan into motion. He was going to refold everything, getting rid of those who he believes wronged him, folding the world to his own mercy... And he was going to create his own Legionary to help him with this, using the tools of this own creator. And so, the Legion of Stationary came to be, brought to life and tasked with guarding the streamers. He knew someone would be coming for him soon. And he was not going to make it easy for him to get to him.

Shortly after he made the Mushroom Kingdom's castle his own, he folded who would be his knight, the one to follow him and his orders until the end... Olivia. Folding her with equal rage to make sure she UNDERSTOOD her task and would not back out. She was tasked to bring him paper beings, which would be refolded for his own army. And she did as she was told. She had no choice really - this was what she was made for herself. And a knight should follow their kings orders after all.

It was all going by plan. But it didn't feel like enough. He... Wanted more. Getting back at those Toads wasn't enough, he wanted the world to fold and bend before his mercy, He didn't just want to be a king... He wanted to be an emperor to all that paper had ever known.

... And when he noticed approaching threats, his trust in his Legion began to falter. Would they truly be up to their task? With how... Laughably not serious some of them were about this? No, this wasn't going to end the way he wanted, all because they failed to do their task properly, failed to use their powers to its fullest.

So what do you do when you don't have faith in your Legion? But you couldn't possibly get rid of them either, because even if incompetent, they still HAD power... Power that could be used through other means...

... Through his own means.

Using his only Legionary he knew would follow his orders to a letter - a Stapler - he crafted origami cages, one for each. And to make extra sure they wouldn't try to defy their own fate... The Stapler was tasked with reinforcing these cages. They would not be escaping this on his watch. They were his Legion, and he was going to bring out the fullest potential in them, and he was free to do so.

And once all preparations were said and done... He paid them all a visit. One by one.

Most of them hadn't had a single clue what was coming for them. A single deadly pierce of the sword was enough to force them into their Stationary Forms. That would make it most convenient to keep them around.

It was easy... Up until the end. By the last two, they have started to cast suspicion around their missing teammates already. And it seems at least his Lieutenant was able to prove some bit of competence... He figured out fast what his plan was, and for the sake of his team, his Legion, his friends... He could not let it keep going. And even if it meant going against his creator, and his very duty.... He was going to fight.

Because after all... Scissors always beats paper... Right?

... It was a single stupid mistake that caused him to not pay attention to his incoming attack. And then, it was all over. That was the last of them. With the Legion back in his hands, he instead put Folded Soldiers to the task of protecting the streamers. To any visiting adventurers, these areas now just felt... Off, and like someone else was supposed to be here. Now it was just... Something that was there, but no longer felt right. Something was missing.

But by this point, our Emperor had found that these Stationaries were indeed capable of so much more... But that also HE was capable of so much more. And it was as simple as magically linking himself to them... To simply fold into their form, to use their powers that way. It was so easy, but he felt so... Powerful. And the Legion was doing great too, encased in their new homes... If you watched closely, upon every use of one of their powers, it looks like cracks would form on the Stationary... But it wasn't concerning. Not concerning for Olly to rethink this at least.

They had their place now, with their Emperor, who would put their powers to good use, and put an end to whoever would try and oppose their new ruler.

The time for a new world, with a new ruler, using new tactics... Starts now.

#art #au #pmtok #paper mario #the origami king #alternate universe #PMTOK: STATIONARY LOCKED (AU)#cw: implied death #cw: implied abuse #do tell me if you feel im missing any warnings im genuinely terrible with this #been wanting to get something to it out for a while now but gjkdfsjgkld writing hard #but here it is! Stationary locked aka Stationaries suffer in this #they are not okay #i have a loooot to this actually its wild

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sanisse · 2 years

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Hands Up, Palms Out, I’m at Your Mercy Now | Elrond x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: This wasn’t a request. I’m working on those, but this has been banging around in my head since before starting this blog and I’ve been slowly chipping away at it. Elrond takes the reader’s virginity at her request. Non-established relationship. They get together at the end! :)

Spice level: 🌶🌶🌶🌶 (pretty dang hot if I do say so myself).

Warnings/tags: first time, getting together, friends-to-lovers, penetrative sex, fingering, oral sex, cuddling, fluff & romance

Word count: 5k WHOOPS

READ & EASILY BOOKMARK ON AO3, IF YOU WANT

Your legs feel like jelly as you knock on the door to Elrond’s study. Part of you can’t believe you’re really asking this of him. The rest of you is screaming to get it out before you lose your nerve.

He calls for you to come in. You step inside and shut the door behind you. His study is always so comforting, with its overstuffed reading chairs, the neatly-shelved rows of books, the golden sunlight streaming in through the high windows to glint off the mahogany bookcases. Elrond is at his desk working on some letters, wrapped in a velvet indigo robe, face pinched with concentration. He looks up from his paperwork and his expression softens. He sets down his quill.

“I can come back later if you’re quite busy.” It rushes out of you before he can even greet you.

“What is the matter? You’re shaking,” he says, getting to his feet. Of course he notices. He crosses the room to take your hands in his bigger warm ones. His voice is laced with concern. “What can I do to help?”

“No— I—“ you bite the inside of your cheek, unable to look up at him. This could ruin everything but you can’t think of anyone else you’d rather do this with. “I just wanted to ask you something.”

“Anything,” he says immediately.

You don’t even know where to start. It’s building up inside your ribcage, filling your lungs. You can hear your own heartbeat. This really could ruin everything. He’s your best friend— he’s so good to you—

“I should go,” you say, too anxious to stand it. “This was a bad idea.”

When you pull away, his grip tightens— not imperiously, only with the worry of a healer. “Will you sit and tell me what has you so anxious?”

“I don’t want to sit,” you say. You feel as if you’re about to combust. Sitting down won’t help.

Elrond doesn’t say anything. He studies you. His gaze is as sharp as one of his scalpels. He’s patient, though, waiting to see what you’ll say. You try to swallow, to get the words out; you still haven’t the slightest clue of how to begin.

“Elrond, I—“ it sticks in your throat and then turns into: “You know I haven’t…been with anyone?“

You glance up at him and see he’s frowning, and immediately you have to look away. For some stupid reason your mouth just won’t stop talking and you tumble into: “In bed. Sexually. I haven’t been with anybody sexually. I haven’t— I haven’t had sex.”

You feel hot all over. Elrond’s still quiet. When you manage to meet his eyes, he looks perplexed.

“And this…bothers you?” he says at last. He strokes the backs of your hands with the pads of his thumbs and gives them a squeeze.

“No! I mean— well— yes. A little. I just—“ you don’t know how to say it. “I—I want to. I want to know what it’s like, I’ve just never— I’ve never found the right person—“ until now, “—someone I felt like I could trust. It just— feels like this big hurdle now and I’m tired of it and I— I want to.”

He’s quiet again, watching you. You can’t read the expression on his face.

You swallow again and break eye contact. “I just want my first time to…I want it to be with— with someone…like— I don’t know—“ You’re starting to tremble again. Elrond still hasn’t said anything. For once you wish he’d be less patient. You chew on your lip and finish in a small voice: “I want it to be with someone like you.”

He sucks in a sharp breath. Instinctively, you pull away from him, drowning for distance.

The silence that stretches between you is awful and heavy. Elrond is the first to break it.

“Are you asking me to be your first?”

Just like you can’t read his face, you can’t read his voice either. Your eyes grow hot and your vision fogs and you wish you could just disappear.

“I’m sorry— I know it’s— you’re my best friend and I don’t want to ruin that— I just— I know that you’d— you’d be so good. You’d be really gentle and I just— I feel so safe with you—“ your voice wobbles and then cracks.

He closes the distance between you faster than could be believed. He’s right there, so solid and warm and radiating kindness and feebly you wonder if you haven’t completely ruined everything the two of you have. Elrond takes your face in his hands, coaxing you to look at him. When you do, his smile is soft for you, gray eyes shining. He leans down to kiss your forehead.

“I am honored,” he murmurs. “Truly. I am honored that you trust me so.”

Relief smacks you like a wall of water. The tears you’ve been holding back spill over. He makes a little displeased sound and rubs at them.

“You haven’t ruined anything,” he promises. “Is this truly what you want? You have thought about it at length?”

You nod, leaning into his touch.

“Give me some time,” he says. “I will not say yes or no now, but rest assured that regardless— I still care for you deeply and nothing has changed.”

Your mouth twists and you nod again. Elrond pulls you into a tight hug and holds you. When you bury your face in his shoulder and heave a shuddering breath, he rubs your back and holds you that much tighter.

—

True to his word, nothing changes. The two of you still go for your long walk; you still read on the porch that sun-drenched afternoon; you still join him in the Hall of Fire with the rest of his house and sit at his table while Glorfindel teases him about his bad jokes and Lindir anxiously hovers from goblet to goblet, trying to be useful, until Elrond eventually begs him to sit down and eat something.

You go on one last walk together to watch the moon rise, then take the path back to the house arm-in-arm. When it comes time to part your separate ways, Elrond turns to face you, taking your hand.

“I truly am honored,” he says at last. You brace yourself, ready for the ‘but’, and he goes on: “This is a precious gift: letting me share this with you. I accept.”

It knocks all the air out of you. You look up at him in wide-eyed shock. “Truly?”

One corner of his mouth turns up in a little half-smile. He dips his head. “Truly, dear one.” Then, his voice takes on a more serious note. “But there will be no Bonding. I will be closed to you, and you to me. I will not risk an accidental tethering.”

You agree, shoving down the strange disappointment that rises in your chest. Of course this is how it must be. Elrond had no reason to want to Bond in that way. You’re friends. It was good to set a clear boundary.

“When shall we do it, and where would you be most comfortable?” he asks.

“My room?” You offer. And then you say, “Tomorrow? Or—if that’s— if that’s too soon—“

He takes your hand and squeezes it. “The choice is yours.”

“Tomorrow night?” you repeat. “I’m just— I’m worried that I’ll overthink if we put it off too long— but if you need more time or— or you’re busy—“

Elrond shakes his head. “I will make time. Tomorrow night, then. Very well.”

You share a hug, then go your separate ways.

—

Elrond is so calm at dinner the following day. You wish you could have half his composure. You hardly eat, completely unable to tell if the way your stomach twists is anxiety or anticipation. After dinner, the two of you go for your usual walk. In the quiet space between the rustling leaves overhead and the trilling crickets, Elrond softly asks:

“Are you still certain you want to do this?”

“Yes,” you say at once. “Yes. I am.” You’re perfectly aware of how your anxiety is radiating off of your body.

He offers you his arm. “Shall we head back?”

You give him a tentative smile and let him walk you to your room.

The two of you slip in together— Elrond first, then you. When you shut the door and the latch clicks, your stomach ties into all sorts of knots again. You have no idea what to expect.

Elrond, to your surprise, simply gathers you up into a tight hug, resting his cheek on the top of your head. Your breath hitches, then rushes out of you. He’s so warm and solid. He makes you feel so safe. His heartbeat ticks steadily away in your ear. When he pulls back at last to take your face in his hands, his expression is soft and full of affection.

“Would you like to be kissed?” he asks.

Your stomach flutters. “Yes.”

Elrond dips down and captures your lips with his own.

Somehow, this feels no different to any other touch you’ve shared. Elrond loves gently, deeply, generously. Every touch is infused with warmth. His kisses are no different.

He kisses you just the once, then draws back to gaze into your eyes. There is a gravitas to his gaze which you have always admired. It draws you in.

“We can stop at any time,” Elrond says, stroking your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Just tell me if you wish to.”

You nod, then wet your lips and say nervously: “I— I don’t really know what I’m doing— I’m not going to be any good—“

Elrond interrupts, “I seek no benefit for myself. Let me take care of you.”

You swallow and nod once. Elrond gravitates down again to brush his lips against yours. His breath ghosts over your mouth, warm and even. Your eyes flick up to his. He doesn’t press any further.

Tentatively, you stand on your toes to close the distance yourself, and kiss him.

You feel him smile against your mouth. He kisses you back, sliding his fingers into your hair at the nape of your neck, cradling your head. Then, he leads you into a second kiss, this time a little more openmouthed, but still sweet. You can’t help the little sound that escapes you, so close to a whine that you blush and pull back to duck your head with a nervous, half-embarrassed laugh.

“Sorry—”

He presses his fingers beneath your chin to tilt your head back towards his. His gray eyes are warm and bright and fond. “Do not be.”

Elrond kisses you once more, just briefly and chastely, and then takes your hand and leads you to sit with him on your bed.

There is a gravity to him that sucks you in. Despite your nerves, you still lean in for another kiss, resting one trembling hand on his thigh, wanting to be so much closer, but too shy to do much. You’ve done this before with others, gotten this far. Never farther. You don’t know how to get where you want to go, but he’s promised to guide you. You trust him. You trust him. You trust him.

Elrond’s mouth wanders: just the dry brush of his soft lips against your cheek, then he presses a kiss to your ear, then trails down to kiss your neck just at your thundering pulse. A delicious shiver slides up your spine. Your fingers on his thigh twitch and you curl them into a fist.

“You can touch me,” Elrond murmurs against your skin.

“I don’t know how,” you whisper back, horribly shy.

Elrond pulls back and adjusts to sit cross-legged, then curls his fingers— confident but undemanding— around your hip and tugs, guiding you to straddle his lap. Your heart lurches and speeds. You settle. He coils one arm around your waist and tucks some of your hair behind your ear with his free hand.

“Any way you like,” he tells you.

You’re so close that you can feel the way his voice rumbles in his chest. The starlight filtering in from your window paints his face into chiseled lines of blue and silver. He hardly looks real. You reach up and graze your knuckles along the curve where the light splashes against his cheek. He leans into it, eyes slipping closed.

Feeling a little braver, you feather your fingers over his mouth, tracing the shape of it. His eyes open, dark and pitch-blue, somehow comforting despite the depth, and he kisses your fingertips. The way he looks at you makes your stomach flutter. You’ve thought about this, if you’re honest with yourself. You’ve seen what he looks like under his robes, seen him training with Glorfindel in the courtyard in nothing but a pair of leather trousers and boots— a creature carved from power, not quite an elf and not quite a maia and not quite a man— and yet somehow he is here, just at your fingertips.

Without thinking, your hand wanders down to the clasp of his robe.

You stop and look at him.

He’s still smiling.

He unclasps the pin with his free hand in one deft motion and leaves the rest for you.

You curse the way your hands shake as you push the first button through its loop. Then the second, then the third. Elrond shows no resistance, only rubs circles on your hip with the pad of his thumb that drive you almost to distraction.

The robe pools around his shoulders as you free it. You hesitate at the laces of his shirt. It’s then that it hits you:

This is really happening.

You never thought you would ever get this close. Your tongue feels like its turned to sand in your mouth, you’re so nervous. Your stomach winds in knots. Fear is a spike of ice, skewering you from crown to root. I don’t want to mess this up—

It’s Elrond who unlaces it, lets the robe fall to the bed, lets go of you long enough to tug his shirt over his head and cast it aside, then gently takes your hand and places it, palm first, to his heated skin.

You suck in a breath.

Your eyes lock. He is still open and warm and fond. His heart pulses beneath your touch, steady and sure, just a little faster than you remember it ever being.

He is built like a Vala.

It’s different. It’s so different being this close. So close you could press every inch of your body against every inch like his—- and you want to, Elbereth you want to.

Your head falls to his shoulder, resting in the crook of his neck, and you begin to map every shape. Every muscle. Every time you hear his breath hitch, your confidence grows. You map the sensitive places: the line of his breastbone, the way his stomach quivers and flexes when you drag all five fingers down the flat plane of it.

“Are you learning me by heart?” he whispers.

“I already know you by heart,” you whisper back.

But it’s different when you’re this close.

You lift your head in a burst of courage to kiss his neck, and you think you hear him whine.

“You can touch me,” you repeat his words back to him.

He does.

Just as in everything else: he is patient and self-assured, every touch infused with tender reverence. If he hesitates, its out of respect. Each time he does, you murmur your encouragement. He strokes your sides, your back, your neck, cups a breast and swipes his thumb over your nipple through the fabric of your dress. It makes you gasp and arch into him, hips tilting to his. Heat pools between your legs. He does it again, seeming to relish your reaction, and kisses your neck once more.

You want more. Your dress is an annoyance that you want out of right now. You unlace the ties of the front— though it makes your face heat— and let it slide down your shoulders, then take his face in both your hands and kiss him again.

Without thinking, you roll your body along the length of his, and he pours another breathy sound into your mouth that makes your mind empty. It feels so good.

Through the fabric that’s left between you, you can feel he’s hard.

He also feels big.

Anxiety ices your spine again. You pause, blushing furiously, and drop your head into the crook of his neck once more.

Elrond senses it— he always does— and cards his hand through your hair, soothing his thumb over your temple. He’s so safe. He makes you feel so safe. You know he won’t hurt you.

Your body aches for his. You don’t know how to ask for more.

Gently, he asks: “Do you want to keep going?”

“Yes,” you hiss out.

You can swear you feel him smile. He strokes the curve of your spine and asks, “Do you think you would rather be on the bottom, or the top? The top may be easier— for your own pace.”

He’s probably right. But the thought makes you even more anxious. “I–I’d rather you take the lead. Please?”

He hums something in the back of his throat and rucks your skirt up, tentatively at first, giving you a chance to stop him. You only whine and tilt your hips toward his touch, so he drags the crook of his finger up, up, up, and then brushes your core.

It makes you jerk. More out of the surprise of it than anything else. You’ve touched yourself. It’s a completely different thing for someone else to do it. Let alone for that someone else to be Elrond.

Your goosebumps are back. He slides the tip of his forefinger along your slit, gathering up the wetness that’s begun to leak out of you, and then begins to rub the faintest, barely-there circles on your clit.

“You’re wet,” he observes softly in a tone that sounds halfway between relief and approval.

You whimper and turn to bury your face in his neck. He’s hardly touching you but the heat spreading through your body is unlike anything you’ve ever been able to build for yourself. His fingers are so long and clever and you can’t help but think of him pushing them inside of you, filling you up, fucking you on them—

—you moan and immediately flush red.

Elrond doesn’t seem to mind in the least, only pressing just a bit harder, rubbing just a bit faster, and it’s so, so good.

You come embarrassingly fast with a little sharp, surprised yelp. Elrond strokes you through it, holding you flush against his chest as you grip onto his shoulder just for something to hold onto.

The moan that rumbles out of him is deep and pleased, and if you thought he felt big beneath you before, he certainly feels big and rock hard now.

You’re still panting as he winds his fingers through your hair again, scritching your scalp, soothing your spine, before unlacing your dress the rest of the way, letting the fabric fall loose.

You had expected to feel…exposed. Vulnerable. You’ve never been naked in front of someone like this. You don’t. There is nothing lewd in the way Elrond looks at you. His expression is one of admiration. If you shiver, it is only because of the cold of the room.

He gently lowers you to your back, grabbing a pillow to tuck under your head, and then trails open mouthed kisses down, down, down between your legs.

And if you thought his fingers felt good…

You have to cover your mouth to stifle another cry when he licks one, long flat stripe over your core, and begins to tease your still-sensitive clit with little kitten licks. Elrond reaches up to pull your hand away and hold it, giving it a squeeze. Your eyes slip shut as he wrings another high-pitched cry out of you.

Your hips jerk when he dips his tongue inside your wet heat and fucks you on it. And when he pulls your clit into his mouth and sucks, you fly apart again— and this time, you scream.

Elrond moans again, gently licking you until you’re so sensitive that you’re pulling away from him. He crawls up your body and kisses you, and you taste salt, and him, and yourself.

“Good,” he murmurs against your mouth. “Good girl.”

You aren’t prepared for the way that makes you melt.

He reaches down and presses his finger inside of you, then easily adds a second. It pulls a ragged moan out of you.

“Please,” you find yourself saying. “Please, Elrond.”

His hand stills. The lack of stimulation makes you want to cry. He’s made you come twice and still you’re aching, burning all over for him, throbbing between your legs, canting up onto his fingers.

“You’re ready,” he says softly. “Do you want me inside you?”

“Yes,” you sob out. “Please. I want nothing else— please Elrond—”

“Hush.” It’s gentle and reassuring. He kisses your cheek and withdraws, feathering your wetness over your thigh. “I promised I would take care of you.”

He sits back on his heels and unlaces his trousers, then shucks himself out of them. His cock springs out: magnificent, long, thick, flushed red at the head and leaking. He is— he is huge. And he’s beautiful— every inch of him is beautiful. Impulsively, you reach over to tentatively wrap your fingers around him.

He hisses. He’s hot and pulsing and stiff in your hand. Heavy. You’ve never held a cock like this, never held a cock at all. You give him one curious, almost open-handed pump, then your eyes flick up to meet his.

His eyes are darker than you remember.

Still kind.

He settles over you again, resting on his elbows and cradling your head. You spread your legs to accommodate him without thinking.

When the tip of his cock touches your folds, that’s when it sets in. It’s blunt and big and you logically know, biologically that it will fit, but you panic and clench anyway.

At once, you shiver and blush and stammer out an apology. “I want this—” you try to reassure him. Almost like you’re trying to convince yourself, because you do, you do. You’re so horribly turned on— “I’m sorry— I’m sorry— I’m just so nervous—”

“Don’t fret.” Elrond dips to kiss your forehead. Its warm and firm and full of affection. “You are perfect. I am in no rush.”

“Is it going to hurt?” It comes out of you in a rush. You trust him. He still feels so safe— but so many people always say that the first time hurts— and he’s so big.

“It shouldn’t,” he says at once, holding your face, soothing the pad of his thumb over the muscles that’ve tensed in your face. “If it does, I want you to tell me.”

You nod. He kisses your forehead again. Your nose. Your mouth. You let out a long, shuddering breath. He slips his hand between your bodies and begins to stroke you again, and your spine relaxes.

“I am right here,” he reassures. “I have you, dear one.”

“Elrond,” it slips out of you in a sigh. You trust him.

He drags his hips only a little at first, just rubbing the head of his cock between your folds until he’s wet with your slick. Only when he’s content that you’re finally relaxed does he press the tip inside.

It breaches you with a little pop that makes you gasp.

Elrond pauses, hovering. Studies your face.

“Does it hurt?” he asks to be sure.

“No,” you breathe. You reach up to drape an arm around his shoulders. Elrond sinks a little deeper and all the air leaves your lungs. It doesn’t hurt— it just feels… “You feel so good. M—more?”

Elrond pulls out, then slides a little deeper, still rubbing gentle circles on your clit that leave your head light and every nerve in your body singing. That is how he does it: in slow, shallow thrusts, deeper and deeper until he’s fully seated inside of you and you’re so fucking full that you can’t think.

His head falls to the pillow and he groans in your ear as your body clenches around him, getting used to the sensation. You’re gasping, panting, digging your nails into his shoulder so hard that you’re worried that you might be drawing blood.

Then, Elrond rolls his hips.

Pure pleasure sparks behind your eyes. It’s so much. You gasp and clutch at him. He stills, stroking your hair, kissing the side of your head.

“I have you,” he reminds you.

“More,” you beg.

He smiles against your skin and obliges.

This is going to ruin you, you think inanely as he pulls out and sinks back inside, splitting you open. You have always loved him. Now you know what it feels like to be with him, and nobody else is ever going to compare with this.

You can’t bring yourself to care. Not now. Not while he’s buried to the hilt inside of you and your body sucks at him, trying to pull him deeper still.

He builds his pace. Never demanding, never hard. The slide is a slow-building fire that saws up your spine, coiling around it. You can feel the blood rushing in your ears, hear the way he praises you—

“You’re doing so well,” he hisses out, voice thick with pleasure. “You feel so good wrapped around me like this. So good. I love the sounds you make. Love to hear you. Love the way you clench around me just. like. that.” It’s punctuated with three, deep thrusts that make you shake. You’ve never felt so utterly consumed. You can’t think about anything else except Elrond, Elrond, Elrond. He feels so perfect inside of you, like you were made for this.

Your hand joins his at your clit. The pleasure winds again, crashing over you in wave after mounting, cresting wave. You’re so close— surging up to a cliff bigger than any you’ve ever fallen off before.

“Come,” you find yourself panting in his ear. “Please, Elrond. Come for me. I want to feel you come inside me—”

He makes a surprised, choked noise in the back of his throat. His hips stutter, then speed. He hits a spot inside of you that wrenches a cry out of you, that makes your vision spark and split. Then, he bursts.

You tip over the cliff with him and soar with an utterly wrecked noise, grabbing on to any piece of him that you can just to hold on to something solid. Elrond cradles you and fucks you right through it, and vaguely you register that he’s saying: “Good— beautiful. Good girl, just like that—”

He sounds just as overwhelmed as you feel.

Eventually, his pace slows and stills. You collapse together. He lies next to you and draws you up to his chest. You’re still floating, high off the hormones and adrenaline coursing through your body. Every single inch of you is trembling.

He draws circles on your shoulder and murmurs soothing noises in the back of his throat. Kisses the top of your head, then each cheek. It’s then that you realize that your face is wet. You don’t remember starting to cry.

“Thank you,” you manage. You wrap your arms around him and cling to him, shivering like a wet branch. “Thank you, Elrond.”

He pushes some of your sweat-slicked hair behind your ear. “No, thank you, melda. You were—” his voice seems to crack. His lips brush against your forehead and he slips out of you, softening. “You were utterly magnificent.”

As your body cools, a hollow space begins to grow between your ribs.

He didn’t bond with you. That was the agreement, of course. But this only solidifies it: you have to go back to being friends. You don’t want to.

You love him.

Tears fill your eyes again. Frustrated with yourself, you try to rub them away, but they just won’t stop welling up.

Elrond makes a displeased sort of noise and dries them for you. “You’re not hurt?”

“No,” you say. Your mouth twists. “No— I’m so—” your voice catches on happy. “Thank you. I’m sorry.”

You curl up, turning to face him despite your better judgement, and bury your face in his chest again. You just want to be close to him.

The shock in his voice is obvious when he asks: “Whatever for?”

“I—” can you say it? “I— I only— I just—” I love you. I am in love with you. This is a horrible idea, now that it’s happened. Because I won’t ever be able to stop thinking about you.

You pull back to look up at him. His face is etched with concern. You can hardly bear it. Immediately, you break eye contact and look away.

“I only wish that…” you trail off. “I’m sorry. I know that you— that you don’t— I just…I really like you, and I know that I shouldn’t. I don’t have any right to you. I just wish that this…” you run your hands along his chest. “That this could be us. All the time. I’m sorry— I didn’t realize— I didn’t realize that I was in love with you until…”

He sucks in a sharp breath. You freeze.

“Will you look at me?” he asks softly.

You do. His eyes are filled with so much love that you can hardly breathe.

“I am in love with you too,” Elrond says.

He stare at him in dumb shock, unable to believe that you heard him correctly.

A shy smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. You can’t remember seeing him ever look shy. He rests his head on the crook of his elbow and reaches over to stroke your cheek.

“The boundary about bonding was for me. I did not want to accidentally… impose myself—”

“It’s not an imposition,” you say at once. “You could never be an imposition.”

His smile softens. “I do love you, if you will have me.”

Your breath catches. Quietly, in the silence that stretches between the two of you, you ask: “Do you want to be kissed?”

Elrond’s features soften, and he answers: “Yes.”

#cw long post #elrond #elrond x reader #elrond x you #elrond imagine #RIP to anyone's mobile dashes if the readmore doesn't work #i tried #this is so fucking long #but like I'm very proud of it #it's cute #spicy

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