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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 11 months

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A drop of your love

request: can I please request a lucien x reader fic? where they're "just friends" and lucien has a rough day. to help him feel better she prepares a bath for him and washes his hair and back (scars from under the mountain still shining there), all while giving him soft kisses on his cheeks, neck and ears, whispering how much he's beautiful and how much she loves him.

a/n it's my first ever Lucien story so go easy on me but also enjoy. 🤍✨

warnings: scars, mention of murder, blood, torture, trauma.

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The kitchen felt stuffy and warm, despite the rain pouring outside. Eight other females were twirling around the place. Pot lids were clacking, and the sound and steam of boiling stews and sauces steeped into the smallest of places. It was nearing dinner time, so the commotion was a usual thing. Yet in the midst of it all, you managed to find peace in kneading the dough and shaping it into little loaves before carving delicate leaf shapes into each.

"They're back", the voice rang through the door as Maria, the youngest, ran in, making the older woman pick up their work and ordering whoever was assigned to help them to work more swiftly. You were just finishing up putting the loaves in the oven when you felt the presence of someone beside you. "It looked bad. Worse than the past two times", Maria's voice was low and cautious. Gossiping about anything was forbidden. Even more so when it came to the high lord and his family. There wasn't a thing that Beron did wrong in his own eyes, so everyone was to believe that as well. Many had lost their tongues for a word or two said at the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Was he on his own?", you asked while wiping your hands onto the apron, keeping your head turned in the complete opposite direction from the girl. So your mouth moving could be mistaken for you just muttering recipes under your breath. "Lord Eris was beside him", you frowned. That was not what you expected, especially if the situation was bad. Eris was Beron's pride and joy, at least in front of the court's eyes. Mother only knew how many times you had washed the blood out of his clothes and brought him remedies for the bruises. But he was initialed to take the throne one day, and so that gave his father more than one opportunity to make him fight for that spot like a wild animal, urging the rest of the brothers to attack and try to take Eris out.

"Y/N, you're asked for", your head instantly turned to the guard calling out your name. Wasting no time, you shrugged your dirty apron off, reaching for an already prepared jug of wine before rushing up the stairs. By the laws that Beron ruled by, you belong to Eris. A price. A gift, if you will. From his father himself, after they burned the village that wanted to rebel against the high lord. Dragged by the hair to the main mansion. Forced to kiss the high lord's feet as a thank you for taking you in. Not all females made it here. Most were butchered and left to rot. Only the prettiest and most fertile were brought in.

"My lord", you said, knocking on Eris's chamber doors carefully, waiting for his approval before walking inside. The place was dimly lit. You didn't dare lift your hand. Eris didn't like to be gawked at. Time spent away from his father was sacred to him. He got so little of it. Never enough. "As pleased as I am to see your face, petal, I'd prefer if you sought Lucien out", his words made you still in your place. Usually, Eris was way more subtle about how he approached this subject.

Back then, Beron let his sons pick the girls they wanted. And it wasn't Eris who picked you. No, it was Lucien. But Beron despised Lucien with everything that he had. So the moment the youngest made a choice, the high lord burst out laughing. Mocking the fact that he even thought that he had the right to pick anything at all. And because he wanted to cause Lucien more harm and show him even more that he wasn't ever going to get what he wanted, he gave you away to Eris instead.

"Is it… bad?", You cleared your throat, settling the jug onto the side table. You two had formed a weird sort of friendship through the years. Eris was a good male, even if he was forced to portray this cruel creature. Regardless of his father's urging, he never bedded you, never force you into anything you didn't want to, and besides his little anger outbursts, he never shouted at you either. "You women gossip around, so what would you say?", the lord said bitterly, making your cheeks turn crimson. "My apologies, my lord", you said quickly, hoping to not get Maria in trouble for any of it.

Eris rubbed a hand over his face and said, "Go to him, will you?", you nodded your head quickly, bowing one more time before turning to leave. This wasn't an unusual practice. Eris saw the way Lucien's face dropped when his father dragged you and shoved you into Eris's arms, "Yours to keep or kill, son". He celebrated you as his win in front of everyone's eyes, but the moment the door to his chamber closed, you saw a completely different person in front of you. Someone who cared, someone who loved deeply but couldn't show it. It was Eris who arranged your and Lucien's first proper meeting. He sent you to his cabin to fetch an old book with court documents; however, what you found there instead was Lucien. Fumbling with a lira in his hands. So lost in the sound of music that he didn't even hear you. He never played in the main villa, but in the safety of his brother's cabin, he must have felt safe.

Pressing both of your palms onto the cold wall, you pushed slightly. You couldn't enter Lucien's chamber from the hallway. Folks around the villa gossiped too much, and now that Beron was getting out of hand, everyone was looking for the smallest misbehavior so they could run off to the high lord and prove their loyalty that way. "Shouldn't you be with my brother?", Lucien's voice greeted you before you had even fully stepped into the room. "Tia is of more use to him now", you said rather bluntly, before forcing the passage back closed and wiping the dust onto your skirt. You turned to the red-haired male, who looked as pale as the paper. So Maria was right; it was indeed bad.

"Lucien", you muttered softly. You two had grown closer. Call it an instant connection back at the village after the slaughter. Or maybe it was the fact that you had found comfort in one another's presence through the years. You weren't a servant to him. There were no titles when you were together. It was just Y/N and Lucien. Eris's cabin was where you met most of the time. Some evenings, instead of tending to Eris privately, you were let off to spend the night with his brother instead. Yet even in the beauty of the moment, you never let yourself forget how whatever had been blooming in your chest would never become a reality.

"It's okay. Just… need to", the youngest of the Vanserras shook his head, pulling at the strings of his cloak, which he forgot to take off once he stepped into the room. His clothes were dirty. Dried blood still coated his skin, even if he tried to wash it off. "Should I run you a bath?", you asked, keeping your voice warm and gentle as you stepped closer. Lucien said nothing, moving to reach for your wrist so he could pull you closer to him. He wrapped a hand around your back, guiding you down onto his lap. You carefully cupped his face, tilting your head to the side, hoping to catch his eyes.

"It was the usual", Lucien touched your wrists, pulling them away from him, as if trying to keep you away from the filth that he was coated in. That still lingered. "Just this time he made us slotted children", your heart fell. Lucien was indeed the softest of them all, and not in a weak way; he had a good heart. Something that was looked down on in this court. He had a heart that cared. A heart that considered others' feelings. Beron had tried to choke out that part of his youngest for a while, but it didn't work. And the more Lucien cared, the more Beron wanted to make his life a burning hell.

"I sent Pipper to bury them. If father won't catch them…", but this time you captured his face, pressing your forehead to his. "You are not to blame; you are not like him", you whispered. Cautious of your surroundings but wanting nothing more than to pluck all the bad thoughts away. Lucien turned his face slightly to the side, brushing his lips over the inside of your palm. "You will never be like him", you knew words could be hard in moments like this. And how could they not? With a sigh, Lucien stuttered, "But what if…", You shook your head instantly, "There are no what-ifs, Lu". The years you two spent getting to know each other had proven to you over and over again that he was nothing like his father or brothers. Lucien's love ran deep. He was strong-willed and fearless when needed, but just as much, he brought a shield of calmness and that autumn coziness with him.

"What?", You had been lying in the field of flowers with Lucien the whole evening. Tia had offered to cover for you back in the villa. You two had been looking up at clouds, pointing out shapes, and making up stories. It felt calming and easy. So easy, it almost scared you. And then a giggle slipped past Lucien's lips as he shook his head. "Nothing", he muttered, his eyes not leaving you. You nervously brushed your fingers through your hair, fearing that something might be tangled in it,"That's not fair now".

However, Lucien giggled softly anyway. You playfully shoved at his chest, "Tell me", you pleaded, "Why are you smiling like that?". Lucien reached out, threading his fingers through your hair carefully. "You", he muttered, your heart skipped a beat right as he spoke up again, "Still don't know why Mother would send you to me". His voice sounded more like a whisper. As if he was scared for someone to hear it. For someone to make the happiness disappear. You cupped his face, leaning closer to him. "Good hearts call out to other good hearts, Lu".

You smiled at the memory as you brought the autumn male closer to your chest. Waiting for the shakes to ease. Knowing that pushing him around now wasn't going to get you anywhere So you stayed put. Letting him soak up the warmth and smell of your body. For Lucien, you were a haven. Autumn wasn't his home; you were. You've been there since the moment he saw you. No one had truly shown him kindness until you came along. No one had taken the time to get to know him. To let him be himself. Lucien had been heading down a dangerous route back then. Beron had been close to bending his will. But then you came around. And something shifted.

"How about I make you a nice bath? You know, with lavender…", You brushed a kiss over the top of Lucien's head, rubbing your hands up and down his back. Yet his grip on you only tightened, "I will stay close by and will brush your hair. We can even braid it", it felt almost silly how you were trying to bribe him into it, but you knew that affection was what he truly needed. "Four plats?", he asked, making you let out a soft chuckle. "Whatever you want, fireboy".

The bath chamber was filled with steam. At this point, you were convinced that Lucien was close to boiling himself in that bathtub. You let him get undressed before you walked back in. Thankful for the stuffy room, it hid your rosy cheeks, which had turned crimson at the sight of Lucien's naked chest. You've seen him shirtless before. Mother… You two had made out in the stables once. You had let go of all your boundaries. That one time you let yourself dive headfirst into whatever was blooming deep within you.

"Hot baths are fun, but how about we don't cook you alive?", your much colder hands pressed down onto Lucien's shoulders. You let your fingers wander across his skin, kneading the tense muscles. Lucien let out a growl of satisfaction. Hands gripping the side of the tub once your fingers found a particularly painful knot. "How you do this is beyond me,", he muttered, and you couldn't help the smile that tugged on your lips. "Braking bread is no joke", you laughed under your breath. "I never doubted your skilled hands", Lucien practically purred, causing your cheeks to heat some more.

You reached for a cloth, dipping it into the water before moving it over Lucien's back. A light frown suddenly tinted your eyes as you once again turned to the scars that painted Lucien's skin. It never failed to make you feel this burning pain in your chest. No matter how many times you saw them. Lucien was weary of showing them to you at first. You only got to see them when he stubbornly hid them from you after the latest beating from his father, getting them infected and causing a fever to break out. You nursed him for a couple of weeks while he remained practically unconscious as he lay on his stomach. You had never been so scared in your life.

You ran the damp cloth over his back a couple of times until your hand stilled. Your brain was telling you to stop, but your heart fought back harder. So you leaned in, dipping your head lower as your lips brushed over Lucien's shoulder once, then over his shoulder blade. You let your fingers dance over the grooves of the scars before accompanying the touch with your lips. You knew that he hated this cruel reminder, but to you, this was a part of him that you wished he could learn to love. This wasn't a sign of weakness. This was a sign that he survived.

"I love you", those words slipped past your lips dangerously quickly. A gasp followed right away when the realization hit. "What?", Lucien turned your way. You two had grown closer. Way closer for it to just be called friends, but you never let yourself think of it. "You… What did you say?", Lucien had shifted inside the tub so he could face you. You shook your head, moving to pull away, but Lucien grasped your wrist gently. "Y/N", you knew, that wasn't a demand. If you wanted, you could leave. He wouldn't hold you back, but you couldn't. Not when his desperation filled the room. You could sense his emotions. All of a sudden, they were all around you, and you couldn't feel anything else. A golden thread glistened all of a sudden. Catching both of your attention. A breath hitched in your throat. "I love you", you muttered once again carefully, and the gold seemed to beam.

Lucien practically jumped out; of the bath, causing you to quickly turn your head to the side and for him to lower his hands. A nervous chuckle left your lips. You felt his arms around your shoulders; next, he was still dripping but he didn't care. Pulling away from you slightly, Lucien pushed a finger under your chin, lifting your head to meet his gaze. "You love me?", he whispered. You bit down on your lip. A part of you screamed that this was wrong, wrong but the mating bond danced around you. Happy and satisfied now that you have finally acknowledged it. You didn't trust your words, simply nodded your head. Lucien did the same, mimicking the movement. "My gorgeous girl", his fingers cupped your face as he leaned his forehead onto yours, "I always knew it would be you".

Your bottom lip quivered, your hands restted on his hips as you moved to stand even closer to him. Lucien ran his fingers over your lips gently. "Say it again", he urged you. "I need to hear you say it again", a tear ran down your cheek as you stepped onto your tippy toes. Cupping Lucien's face as you leaned closer, you whispered, "I love you, Lucien, with all that I am" right by his lips. Lucien let out a soft sigh, closing his eyes for a moment before crashing his lips against yours. For a kiss that said it all. The kiss was more than just the aftermath of an emotional moment. It was a promise. A plea for love. A chance for Lucien to finally get a glimpse of what true happiness looked like.

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All acotar writing taglist: @brekkershadowsinger @cityofidek @baebeepeach @lucyysthings @hideing @urfavbrunettebish @historygeekqueen @marina468 @courtofjurdan

#lucien vanserra x reader #lucien x reader #lucien x you #lucien vanserra imagine #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar #lucien vanserra

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absolutebl · 6 months

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This Week in BL - Gangsters Win

Organized, in each category, by ones I'm enjoying most at the top. Delayed October reviews included this week! (Still traveling but now in home territory and familiar hotels.)

Nov 2023 Wk 2

Ongoing Series - Thai

My Dear Gangster Oppa (Thurs iQIYI) 2 of 8 - GIVING ME LIFE. How dare they be this… this... Just. How dare!

Twins the series (Fri GaGa) ep 1 of 10 - I have been waiting for another truly sports centered BL since HIStory 2: CTL. This is nowhere near as good, but I don’t care. It’s great pulp and Sprite is a fab central character. I've realized that I love the pulps most when they’re ridiculously soapy (identical twins identity trope for sport’s fuck’s sake) but ERNEST about it (not campy). This one is taking itself seriously and it's so cute that it's trying so hard. Good little pulp. Dee mar.

Dangerous Romance (Fri YT) ep 12fin - was it me or did this show kinda flag on you too?

Poor, struggling Sailom is forced to tutor his bully, Kang, and they fall for each other despite circumstances. I loved it for the first 4 eps, liked it for the middle 4, and then kinda lost interest. I think it's because the focus shifted from Sailom to Kang, and I just find a disenfranchised character more interesting than the poor little rich kid archetype. Ultimately the script waffled and failed these actors - the leads and sides were solid, and support cast on point. 8/10 pretty standard 2023 GMMTV fair

Absolute Zero (Thai Weds iQIYI) ep 6 of 12 - It’s sort of a paradox of emotions not just time. It remains sad and I remain wary.

My Universe (Sun iQIYI) The Camp Fire ep 11 of 24 - Launched with an argument over rude pronouns and mistaken identity. Highlights the joy of camping. Ugh. I don't think this one is for me despite the pair.

Venus in the Sky (Tues iQIYI) ep 10fin - NO SINGING. I can't believe they brought in rando SIDEs just to sing! WHHHHYYYYY? Sigh.

An indifferent pulp with indifferent acting and poor chemistry (despite high heat) based on the reunion romance trope that was just... so... slow... It wasn’t entirely a waste of time but I can’t in good faith recommend it. unless you have a very high tolerance for Thai pulps and ultra tsundere characters. 5/10 ONLY WATCH IF YOU'VE NOTHING BETTER TO DO

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Kiseki: Dear to Me (Taiwan Tues Viki & iQIYI) ep 12 of 13 - I don’t mean to be rude because you know I love the main couple in the show, but they are simply being out acted by the sides. They are so damn good. Ai Di and his dumb oversized sweaters and flappy flappy sleeves is EVERYTHING.

Bump Up Business (Korea Gaga) 5-6 of 8 - More language negotiation, so of course I like it. I also like that they openly let Eden admit to a crush on a boy. I like this whole thing way more than I should. Save me from myself?

You Are Mine (Taiwan Fri Viki) eps 9 of 10 - I don’t understand why baby boy is trying to escape so badly. (Except for plot reasons.) Running of the gays! Look at you Taiwan stealing Japan’s favorite trope. This show is fun but it’s a bag of tropes held together with some very thin fraying mesh plot.

If It’s With You AKA Even If I Fall In Love With You AKA Kimi to nara Koi wo Shite Mite mo’ (Japan Gaga) ep 5fin - The leads are so painfully cute portraying a softly simple story of teen first love. This was a nice little piece with an early yaoi feel that come off as brief, as if it were meant to be a short story that had been extended into a series. Sweet but ultimately rather forgettable. 7/10

Mr Cinderella 2 (Vietnam Sat YT) ep 6-7 of ? - yeah I forgot to watch again, I may be dnfing this by accident.

It's Airing But...

I Cannot Reach You AKA I Can't Reach You AKA Kimi ni wa Todokanai (Japan Tues Netflix-Japan & ????) - in classic JBL fashion, I Cannot Reach You could not be reached. It looks good though so I mgiht put some effort into finding it grey.

Look at Japan dropping all the tropes in on scene: rooftop, kabedon, hand hold.

SHADOW (Thai Gaga) 1-7 of 14 - this is a horror BL with ghosts & paranormal elements in a boarding school setting. I'm not wild about Thai horror (or horror at all). It features Singto (who did paranormal BL He's Coming to Me) opposite Fluke N (who's done a couple horror's before). Also Fiat. Dan suffers from sleep paralysis, and in his dreams he sees a shadow that suffocates him. It gets worse when he transfers schools. I'm holding off on this one and if told it's good I'll binge watch.

What Did You Eat Yesterday Season 2 AKA Kinou Nani Tabeta? Season 2 (Japan Gaga) ep 1 of 10 - I find this series more fun to binge, so I'm waiting until it completes its run.

One Room Angel (Japan Gaga) - adaptation of Harada’s manga of the same name (which I did not like) about a convenience store clerk who's stabbed, nearly dies, and returns home to find an angel waiting for him. With only 5 eps and a good chance this won’t end happy, I'm gonna wait and let you tell me how it goes.

Can I Buy Your Love From A Vending Machine? AKA Sono Koi, Jihanki de Kaemasu ka? (Japan cinema release in-country only) - This one is a movie from Japan so in customary fashion who tf knows when (or if) it will get international distribution. Salaryman Ayumu Koiwai just can't tear his eyes away from the strong, muscular man as he checks on the stocks of the vending machine in his office. I did some hunting but only found the manga, so I'm marking it cnf and moving on with life. This will be its last appearance on the weekly update.

I Finished It!

Love in Translation (iQIYI) ep 8 - solid ending, man these two are a great pairing.

A sweet little pulp about a Thai boy with a crush on a Chinese influencer who ends up in a business relationship with her ex-bf. This show had truly great chemistry between the leads, cute found family with good rep, and an exciting (if silly) ending that almost, but didn't quite, make up for how incredibly annoying the main character was in the first half. Gotta say the make-out scene in the convenience store is one of the greatest in Thai BL, tho. 6/10 DEF WORTH WATCHING BUT FLAWED

I Feel You Linger in the Air (grey) ep 8 of 12 - so that was A THING. I did a seriously extensive deep dive analysis, historical & linguistic extras, and review here.

I truly loved this time travel romance. IFYLITA is an exquisite BL, from filming techniques to narrative framework (much like Until We Meet Again). Steeped in history and family drama it edges into lakorn (but no as much as To Sir With Love and with way less scenery chewing). This is an elegant and classy BL… from Thailand which normally doesn't even try for classy. The main couple (both as a pair and individuals) were excellent, particularly Bright (Yai) whose eye-work acting style is a personal favorite of mine. Pity about the ending. Oh it wasn’t that sad but it wasn’t good either. This show should easily have earned a 10 from me except that it fumbled the… erm… balls. Argh. Whatever. 9/10

Only Friends (YT) ep 11-12 - What can I say, this wasn't my thing, it was never gonna be, and I didn't like it. Basically Thailand did the L-Word but with branded BL pairs and the only agenda seemed to be slut shaming and making sure those pairs stayed healthy and sponsor ready. Consequently, the pairs were all executing well and to the best of their ability (of course) but all other characters got shafted, both in the good and the worst possible ways. Unrated but if falls somewhere between 5 (hot mess) and 3 (what am I doing with my life?)

Next Week Looks Like This

11/10 Middleman’s Love (Thai Fri Mandee's YT & iQIYI 1 of 8? - TutorYim (brand pair origin = Cutie Pie) with side couple KingUea (Bed Friends) from Domundi trailer here. This used to be a JimmyTommy vehicle before the pair split (also prev title Middle Love). Adapted from a Y-novel. Jade works as a graphic designer and has always been stuck in the middle - average. His heart is hardened after a life spent being overlooked because he is not as charming or good looking as the rest of his family or friends. When his office gets a hot new intern, Mai, Jade assumes Mai couldn’t possibly be intersted in him. Mai, of course, has other ideas. Warning this is a Cheewin comedy so tonally it could be very OFF, but the cast is solid, and I have liked his stuff on occasion.

11/10 Last Twilight (Thai Fri YouTube) - JimmySea are bakc and maybe it's good this time? I dont' know, GMMTV isn't doing great right now. Burdened with heavy debt, Mork, a mechanic, is forced to take a high paying job as a caretaker for Day, a rich heir who suffers from partial blindness after an accident. Day recruits Mork as he realizes the latter does not see him as a disabled person, but rather as co-equals. As they spend time together, the two begin developing feelings for the other. However with Day just having 180 days until he becomes permanently blind, how will the two weather the trials ahead?Upcoming November BL

11/11 Beyond The Star (Weds iQIYI) qp 1 of 8 - Looks like House of Stars meets Boyband. I am not excited.

Upcoming in November

11/16 PLAYBOYY (Thurs ????) ?? eps - trailer here, high heat and it's helmed by Cheewin (shudder) with screenplay by Den (Only Friends) under Copy A Bangkok. It's gonna be a shizz show people. It's predicting Thai style "dark" (War of Y) one of my least favorites. Apparently there is a "plot" but when has Cheewin ever bothered with plot? A university kid who was involved with escorts, sex-trade, porn, online hook-ups, drugs, prostitution, blackmail, revenge, and so forth goes missing. His twin (sigh) and two friends look for him.

11/17 Pit Babe (Fri iQIYI) ep 1 of 14 - high heat teaser here, based on alittlebixth's omegaverse novel #พิษเบ๊บ’ set in the world of car racing (author says show will not be omegaverse). Charlie (fresh face), a young hot nerd, approaches his driver idol (Pavel "my love" 2 Moons 2) to borrow a racing car and win one for the team. Production house is new to BL but behind the Club Friday stuff. Show stars many known actors: Nut (Oxygen), Pop (Ram in La Cuisine), Pon (Phai in Gen Y, we LOVE him), Benz (twins in En of Love: This Is Love Story).

11/19 Bake Me Please (Sun Gaga) ep 1 of 6 - trailer here, stars Ohm (of OhmFluke) opposite Guide (bestie from IFYLITA) and possibly also Poom (well known, but not for BL). This looks like an actually gay version of Antique Bakery (play it again, BL). Still, I'm intrigued, it looks HELLA pretty.

11/22 7 Days Before Valentine (Weds ????) ep 1 of 10 - trailer here, horror-esk. Adapted from y-novel of the same name, directed by Tu (180 Degree) stars Jet (Why You… Y Me?). When you want your old love again, but fate sends you a reaper instead. All he can do for you is kill people. I'll likely give this a pass and wait to binge later. I'm planning to try SHADOW and I can only handle one Thai horror at a time.

11/25 The Sign (Sat ????) ep 1 of 10 - trailer here, horror-esk, but with a suspense and adult characters. Special investigators who loved each other in previous lives reunite with their new bodies, stars Billy Patchanon (BillySeng) & Babe Tanatat (new). Includes other SCOY favorites as a special investigation team. I may give this a try because I like the non-horror bits.

11/26 The Whisperer (Sun ????) 1 of 10 - trailer here. Thai horror BL that ALSO involves cheating (what joy is mine). He has dimples (My Ride) but I don't think even that gives me the will. Maybe a binge for me.

11/26 Cooking Crush (Sun YT) 1 of 12 - OffGun are back, trailer here. Adapted from the novel “Love Course! เสื้อกาวน์รุกเสื้อกุ๊กรับ” by iJune4S this is about Prem who runs a not-so-popular restaurant with 2 friends. About to go on a cooking competition with a huge reward, Prem gets involved with Ten, a stressed-out med student who wants Prem to teach him to cook.

11/30 For Him (Thurs ????) ep 1 of 10 - high heat trailer, I suspect iQIYI will scoop this one up. From the people who brought us Unforgotten Night (please no) based on a y-novel, man nursing a heartbreak has a one-night stand, but the other boy didn't want it to end. It looks terribly trashy so I'm in! Maybe I'll do a trash watch?

VIP Only (Taiwan) - may be delayed/canceled

Wuju Bakery AKA Space Bakery (Korea) - this one may be DOA

A Breeze of Love (Korea) - I know less than nothing about this.

Nov 2023 line up with screen caps here. Not kept updated.

Original 2023 forthcoming BL master post (see comments, some are inaccurate, NOT KEPT UPDATED).

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

Yang's little smile! Argh. (Love in Translation)

This is our mean and grumpy gagster character talking about playing in game support roles. It's fucking adorable. Such a nasty criminal. (My Dear Gangster Oppa)

(Last week)

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riswippiesx · 3 months

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Fallen God! Gojo Satoru X Fem! Reader part: two

| Part one

Your way back to your apartment was quite silent. You were irritated, you really were. How could a stranger ever dare to kiss you? But why did his touch felt so familiar? Why did you feel like you waited so long to feel that touch? What was this feeling? Longing? No way. That was a stranger.

You brushed away all your thoughts and changed back into your comfortable cloths. You didn't have work. It was a day off. You relaxed and sat on the couch and took your phone. What was his name? You could have asked for his name, maybe? No. Stop. You need to stop thinking about some mere stranger!

You tried hard to brush off his thoughts the entire day, untill you fell asleep, you really did, but...the dram which woke you up around 4 am was not something you were expecting in a normal day.

You were in happily roaming around, with a man. His silhouette was all you could remember. He was tall. And that was it. You couldn't remember any other detail about him. A faint voice addressed you as "Y/n".. The scenery— that didn't seem very modern, rather it felt like some forbidden, forgotten forest? You weren't sure.

What was it? If it was really a dream why did it feel so real? You had no answer to that.

You would be alright if it was a one time thing. Every day you had the same dream, same scenary, same man, except, each night it reveled his features, one by one. One day you saw his white hair which was quite an indication to that very stranger you met, but you forcibly brushed your thoughts away.

Another day, you saw his gorgeous blue eyes, adoring you, loving you. Again a similarity with that pervert? No way! You were pissed about everything, including your mind for letting you be captivated by a literal pervert!!

But that specific thoughts about him was brushing away every day. You wanted to see the full face of that man. And maybe you felt like that man was that one stranger, you knew so but you didn't know how.

Then the dreams stopped, just to reveal all of it at a certain night. You saw everything clearly. You knew everything clearly. You could recall everything, very clearly. A faint hug, then a pair of lips, falling on your own, giving your the warmth of eternity.

You woke up, with tears flooding your face. You were crying. It was him. Not a pervert, it was him. It was Gojo. It was your Gojo-sama.

You felt like running straight to him. You needed to see him right then. But you didn't even ask for his address. But you would find him anyhow!

You reached to that certain shop once it was morning. You couldn't want any longer. You asked the locals about his whereabouts and found a trace. You ran to that place as your mind danced in joy, joy of seeing him again when you won't fail to recognise him.

Buy your happiness was quick to vanish once you found the apartment empty. The crappy apartment where you were supposed to find him was just empty without any further trace.

You again asked the locals about any place where he could possibly move to. But you didn't find any clue. You came back to his one room apartment. Where was he? Where would you search for him now?

You sat on the floor, feeling the bitter of a losing game. The wind blew, played with your hair in rhythm, which spoke of longing, years of wait and forgotten love. A piece of paper stated to fly with the wind and rested infront of you.

You eyed the paper and took it in your hands. It gave you warmth only to snatch it away right after. Your eyes were teary as you read:

"I know, maybe you would recall everything one day and come to find me, but my love, let's not meet this time. I can recall how my curse fell upon you in your past life. I can't let it happen to you again. So I am distancing myself from you. I can't live there where I know I could see you further. It would force me to meet you again. I won't let that happen. I love you, I still do. You are the only one for me. I lived so many years with your memories, thinking you won't ever come back but you did. And I met you. I can continue living with that piece of happiness. So don't look behind to find me, don't cry for me either. I won't be there to wipe your tears and knowing that my soul hurts. So for me, look ahead, where a bright future awaits you."

You sat there, didn't know what to do. You felt like a very dear part of your heart was taken away from you, forever. Your sin for pushing your god away was so sinful that your god was punishing you such way? You couldn't think anymore. The very known faint scent of him tantalised you, comforting you to look ahead of you where you could see bright lights, except the source of the light wasn't him.

Here's the second and LAST part of fallen god! Gojo x reader 😷☝️ thanks a lot for such amazing response in the first part. Also thanks for requesting! Take love<3333333333

Thanks for reading♡

Also i'm planning a series for suguru geto x fem reader. So, maybe first part soon? 👀☝️but before that, I'll post the requested fic(most probably it'll be an oneshot) 💗👀

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED <333

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joeyscherryjubilee · 1 year

Text

Like Calls to Like (III)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC

Author's Note: I fully believe Aemond is a consent!king, he's gonna make sure his lady is comfortable and is about communication.

Warnings: smut, first time for Laenyra, Crispin Cole, Aemond coping a feel beneath the table and a lot of consent.

Word count: 4,825

Summary: Laenyra and Aemond have finally confessed their feelings for one another. But they must put their desires temporarily aside in order to sit through dinner. Aemond, however, does not want to wait to lay claim to his princess.

“You seem happy, my son.” Alicent held Aemond’s hands. She was clearly glad of her son’s mood, especially as he was prone to states of lonesome forlornness. Aemond and Laenyra had arrived for dinner with secretive smiles and looks of longing clear on their faces. “Truly happy.”

She noted how her son’s eye flickered across the room.

“I am, mother.” He said the words with an almost shy smile, his mind wandering momentarily and Alicent’s heart clenched for a love she would never have.

“Good.” She forced a smile and squeezed his hand.

Alicent left him in order to greet a weak Viserys. Aemond, of course, immediately went to Laenyra’s side, standing too close to be proper and his hands itching towards her. Whatever note his princess received at breakfast, its contents had clearly shifted their relationship.

“A fine couple.” Viserys rasped, his weight sagging over his embellished cane. His gaze was set on Aemond and Laenyra with an unappealing smile though his joy was warming to see.

Alicent could not argue that fact no matter how much she wished to deny it.

“Let us eat.” She said instead, knowing any approval shown in front of her husband would be followed by talk of a betrothal.

The king sat first and let out a sigh that told his relief at finally taking the weight off his aching body. The group followed suit and Laenyra secured her usual spot between Aemond and Helaena, insisting that her aunt give a full debrief of the new insect that had been recently acquired.

Aemond shifted in his chair, the food in front of him untouched and his hands tapping upon the table. He was trying with all his might, and failing miserably, to not keep glancing over at Laenyra. She kept catching him staring, giving him only a knowing smile in response before returning her attention to Helaena.

His princess seemed to be the height of decorum, as though they had not been pawing at each other just moments before entering for dinner. Laenyra had tugged him into a hidden passage, bringing him to her desperately and they were late arriving because of it.

Laenyra grinned as she caught him looking again, she could feel his gaze and the heat it held.

“The wings are fragile but powerful.” Helaena explained eagerly, using her hands to provide a diagram of the new bug she had found. Aegon huffed in boredom from across the table, but otherwise said nothing. “It appears to be praying when it is still.”

Laenyra did not find the topic intensely interesting but her aunt’s excitement kept her attention and she smiled at how animated Helaena was.

There was a calmness in the room that was a welcome change from the usual despair that permeated the family meals. Viserys was in reasonable health and Queen Alicent in a somewhat good mood. Laenyra’s heart was soaring as she dared to think of the man next to her and what they have revealed to each other that day.

The calmness evaporated though, when Laenyra felt the brush of a touch on her leg.

“Are you alright?” Helaena asked as she jolted in her chair, dropping her fork with a clatter.

Laenyra nodded earnestly and smiled bashfully at the table.

“Apologies.” She said quietly at the look of concern on her grandfather’s face and the sudden interest in the rest of the table’s. “I simply startled myself when I dropped my fork.”

Everyone seemed to believe her and return to their own conversations or thoughts.

Helaena resumed her explanations though Laenyra froze as a touch feathered across her leg once again.

She glanced to see Aemond looking extremely pleased with himself, one hand on his goblet and the other beneath the table, stroking a deft pattern on her thigh.

“Are you quite sure you are well, Princess?” Aemond asked quietly with such a touching tone of concern that she glared at him.

“Yes.” Laenyra whispered curtly.

His responding grin was lecherous as she returned her attention to Helaena, attempting to ignore how his fingers trailed so dangerously across her leg. A previously undiscovered desire flooded through her and the room suddenly became hot. She pressed her legs together, seeking an unknown source of pleasure.

Laenyra attempted to remove his hand but could not do so without risk of discovery, he was unfairly stronger than her. Aemond made no further move as she squirmed at his touch, resting his hand sentry upon her thigh.

The meal passed by slowly, his hand a constant upon her body and Laenyra found time agonising until finally the servants cleared away the plates and she could leave without fear of scrutiny.

“I am tired, I shall retire.” She stood and breathed a sigh of relief as Aemond’s hand fell away, she desired his touch more than anything, but not at a dinner and not in full view of their family.

Her awkwardness was covered by Helaena announcing that she was also tired and wished to retire. It was unknown if her aunt did wish to rest or was simply covering for Laenyra and Aemond with her unlimited knowledge, but either way, Laenyra was most grateful.

Viserys nodded his consent at their departure from the table.

“Ser Arryk, would you please escort Princess Helaena to her rooms, and Ser Erryk, if you would escort Prince Aegon.” Queen Alicent commanded the twins by the door. Aegon looked extremely discontent at the idea of being escorted to bed like a child, but made no argument against it.

“Aemond can escort Laenyra.” Viserys said with a joyful smile. “I have no doubt he will see her safely to her rooms.”

“Of course, my love.” Queen Alicent said tersely, though sent a nod to Ser Criston which did not go unnoticed by Aemond.

Laenyra bid everyone a goodnight and led the way out into the darkened hallway.

They made it round the first few corners in a formal fashion before Laenyra glanced around and grabbed his hand.

Aemond couldn’t contain his grin as she tugged him forcefully through the halls, darting left and right and right again. She only stilled once they were far away from the dining hall and hidden within an alcove.

“I can’t believe you.” Laenyra whispered hotly, but there was no anger in her voice, only a barely contained desire.

“I am to blame for being tempted by such a siren?” Aemond asked with a lofty tone and clasped his hands behind his back with the poise of a prince.

Laenyra scoffed in order to conceal her amusement.

“You are silly.” She muttered and Aemond laughed loudly in the empty hallway.

She was quick to silence him, slapping her hand over his mouth and glanced around. No footsteps came to enquire about the noise but Laenyra waited a long moment, her heart thrumming, before she lifted her hand.

Aemond’s heart soared and he ducked his head in order to kiss her. Laenyra’s breath stuttered at the force of it, her hands gripping his arms to keep herself from drowning in the kiss.

“I’ll meet you in your room.” She said hurriedly, her gaze slightly hazed as she managed to pull herself away. Laenyra flushed scarlet at her prince’s responding smile, it told a thousand promises and desires that sung between them.

She darted away before he could say anything and Aemond was rather glad for it. Anything he wished to say would be highly inappropriate.

Aemond departed in the opposite direction, taking the long way through the castle in order to prevent any further gossip about his comings and goings. In some ways he was lucky that Aegon was such a disappointment, the focus on his brother’s activities meant that Aemond himself was not watched with anywhere near as much scrutiny.

He huffed in quiet annoyance though, as he rounded a corner to come face-to-face with Ser Criston Cole. Aemond usually enjoyed the knight’s presence, even if Laenyra despised him, but his appearance was an extreme inconvenience.

“Where is Princess Laenyra?” Ser Criston asked but there was no true concern in his voice.

“She wished to speak to Helaena about something and asked to walk alone.” The lie rolled easily off his tongue, Laenyra often visited her aunt before bed, the two could be found talking deep into the night.

Aemond made to step around the knight, but his path was blocked.

“Do you have a moment, my prince?” He posed his words as a request, though Aemond knew a refusal would result in further inconvenience.

“Of course, Ser Criston.” Aemond’s tone was monotonous, attempting to contain the frustration at being kept from his princess.

“Your mother is concerned for you.” The words were poised like they were coming from a place of care. But Aemond knew anything said by Ser Criston were truly the thoughts of his mother, who no doubt wished to know more of her second son’s recent activities.

“How so?” Aemond asked, feigning ignorance.

“She worries about how you have been spending your time, you departed upon Vhagar this morning with no warning, accompanied by Laeny-”

“Princess Laenyra.” Aemond interrupted sharply and his look was stern.

“Apologies, Prince Aemond.” The knight grimaced at the prince’s tone but made no comment. “You were accompanied by Princess Laenyra and I believe your mother is worried as to what rumours may arise from the two of you spending so much time together, unsupervised.”

He allowed the implications of his words to hang between them.

“I appreciate your concern for mine and Princess Laenyra’s safety and reputation, but I am unsure as to why this is being brought up now. Being alone with the princess is not a new occurrence and we often fly upon Vhagar together.” Aemond would not give him an inch, his tone deadpan and the knight squirmed.

“The reason your mother is concerned, I believe, is because of the danger of impropriety.”

“Impropriety?” Aemond drawled, raising an eyebrow and maintained a straight face, hiding his inner amusement at how far past ‘impropriety’ he and Laenyra had ventured. “I do not understand what you are attempting to imply, Ser Criston. Though I suggest that when you report to my mother, you ensure she is aware that there is no risk of wrongdoing and if she has any further concerns, she can ask me herself.”

Ser Criston was smart enough to recognise a dismissal and nodded curtly, undoubtedly knowing how displeased Queen Alicent would be at his lack of new information.

The prince left the knight, venturing once again through the halls, seeking out his one true desire.

Aemond breathed a sigh of relief when he finally came within view of his rooms, his steps quickening even more and he practically leapt through the entryway. He barred the door securely and confirmed its sturdiness twice. There would be no risk of disturbance.

His princess was standing before the fireplace, her gaze upon the flames.

Laenyra looked over her shoulder at him, the glow of the fire illuminating her like a true dragon.

I would follow her through the seven hells if she asked it of me.

Aemond clenched his fists, attempting to maintain his dignity and a distance between them.

She smiled gently at his stationary form, closing the gap herself and sliding her hands into his. Laenyra raised herself and kissed him, not at all embarrassed that she desired him, and the idea warmed Aemond’s heart.

“Hello.” She whispered and reached to stroke his jawline with a fire in her eyes.

“Hello.” Aemond murmured, his hands resolutely remaining by his sides.

“I was half-worried you wouldn’t come.” Laenyra said with a small smile and he knew he was forgiven for his lateness.

“I will always come when you call.” He breathed softly.

Laenyra glanced down at his hands, not on her body, and pulled him closer by the lapels of his jacket. Capturing his lips as hers, Laenyra dared to tease him with her tongue, a quick movement that was only a promise of things to come.

Aemond felt himself harden as she continued to take the lead for both of them, but as her hand weaved into his hair, tugging at him, Aemond's resolve broke. His hands moved quickly as he growled against her, tugging her body against his, his hardness flush against her belly.

Laenyra moaned softly and allowed him to dominate her, his mouth bruising against her own with the force, his teeth nipping at her, his longing as fierce and savage as a dragon.

“You are certain this is what you desire?” He growled after a long moment, attempting to restrain himself, for her sake.

“You keep asking, I will not change my mind.” Laenyra insisted, confused at to why he was so cautious of their joining.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He explained though it did nothing to diminish Laenyra’s confusion. Aemond smiled to himself and stroked her cheek, his thumb gliding over her swollen lips.

“You won’t.” She insisted, reaching for him, attempting to pull him closer.

“Not like that, my love.” Aemond murmured and tried to think on the best way to explain it to her. He pressed another kiss to her cheek before moving to brush his kips against her throat. Laenyra let out a small moan, a sound he wished to bind to his soul, as he dared to let his teeth nip at her pulse. “I need to make sure that it won’t hurt when we come together.”

He attempted to save her ears from crudeness, unsure as to how she would react.

“Oh.” Laenyra breathed, understanding dawning and Aemond glanced up to see her flushed but eager.

“Yes.” He said with a small smile. “Is that alright?”

Laenyra nodded, suddenly shy as she stood before him, all of it so real and her desire stirring so agonisingly.

“Yes, I trust you, Aemond.” She said and joined her lips to his again, more desperate with the heat building within her.

Laenyra sought to press herself closer to him and he could no longer deny himself of his most precious desire.

His hands weren’t gentle as he finally laid claim to her body, enveloping one in her hair and the other around her waist. Laenyra shivered as Aemond’s mouth enveloped her own, his kiss rough and desperate.

Laenyra gripped his arms, attempting to tether herself lest she float away on her desire.

“My Laenyra.” Aemond growled softly. She sighed prettily against his lips, his words fuelling the fire between them. His fingers were hurried with the tiresome strings of her dress. With a growl of frustration and yet another futile attempt to undo her dress, Aemond unsheathed his dagger and with startling precision he cut through the ribbons and frills.

“How am I supposed to explain that?” Laenyra laughed in shock at such a barbaric move though it thrilled her.

Aemond grinned roguishly, tearing the remaining seam and pulling it off her.

“Just say you were attacked by a dragon.” He offered and Laenyra snorted, kicking the now ruined dress under the bed.

“Attacked is certainly the right term.” She muttered and laughed as Aemond yanked her towards him once again.

“‘Attack,’ is it, dear niece?” He drawled, perusing her figure and taking note of how her perfect she looked beneath the satin slip, how desperate he was to rid her of it. Her nipples hardened as he dared trail his fingers along her sides, treading dangerously across her stomach. “You seem rather eager considering this brutal attack.”

Laenyra grinned at his words, her cheeks flushing and chest heaving as determination built inside her. The princess was not a patient person, she was the blood of the dragon and they were not known for patience.

Taking a deep breath Laenyra tugged at her slip, lifting it over her head. The thin dress pooled deliciously around her feet, Laenyra’s head held high as she bared herself to him. Aemond stilled and he felt a dragon rear its head and roar within him.

“Is something wrong?” Laenyra asked, a mild panic flashing through her eyes and he could see her starting to worry.

He shook his head earnestly.

“You are perfect.” He said hoarsely. His hand shook slightly as he raised it, his palm cupping her right breast gently. Laenyra shifted as he ran his thumb over her nipple. It hardened as Aemond stroked it and he dared to do the same to the left.

“Hmm.” Aemond hummed as Laenyra shivered, but he didn’t believe the cold had anything to do with it. His hands slid upwards, goosebumps following his touch. He slid his hands up her neck into her dark tresses, reviling in the softness of Laenyra.

With a startling boldness Laenyra tugged at his waistband, pulling him closer and joining them together.

“My love.” He whispered against her lips, his hands greedy as he gripped her naked body, leading Laenyra backwards to the bed. Aemond picked her up with ease, laying her gently down upon the covers.

Aemond stood tall, his breath rising heavily as he took Laenyra in, the way she looked so sublime on his bed, her body red with his marks and the apex of her thighs glistening, because of him. With a new found confidence Aemond steadied his nerves and knelt upon the bed.

Laenyra’s eyes were on Aemond as he moved to hover over her. She squirmed though as he leant to lay soft kisses up her stomach and Laenyra held her breath as he dared to press a kiss on both breasts.

“I love you.” He whispered into her collarbone, his tongue sucking and nipping at her skin, Aemond relished in the marks that were quick to form.

Laenyra whimpered her response as Aemond’s fingers trailed downwards and sat dangerously above her wet heat.

“You are alright?” Aemond breathed quietly and she huffed at him.

“If you do not touch me soon.” She threatened and he chuckled, her huff soon stuttered as he stroked her softly, his thumb applying such a pressure that a moan escaped her. Aemond couldn’t help his smug grin as he coaxed moans and whimpers out of Laenyra with slow, determined motions.

Laenyra relaxed into his touch, her back arching and her hips bucking upwards at Aemond’s skilful touch. He delighted in her body’s reaction to her, dipping his thumb between her folds to brush at her clit, her body jerking deliciously at he stroked her pearl.

Aemond moved to adjust himself, kneeling before her to utilise both hands to please his princess.

“Good girl.” Aemond murmured and he explored her body with his hand. Her wetness increased and he inserted a finger, shocked at how loudly Laenyra moaned as he pleased her. His thumb continued to stroke her and she fisted the sheets, a heat building that she did not entirely understand.

“It’s alright Laenyra.” He purred as she writhed. “Let me please you.”

Her thighs shook when Aemond changed the angle of his wrist, his movements speeding up and a second finger pressing inside her. He could tell she would soon reach her peak and he was eager to seek out all the ways to bring her pleasure.

Aemond curled his fingers slightly and Laenyra fell over the edge, her hips bucking upwards into his hand as she came. His fingers slowed and he worked her through her pleasure, her thighs glistening and Aemond grinned at his triumph, leaning down to press a firm kiss to his princess, swallowing the pretty sounds she made as he touched her.

“That’s it.” He praised when her body started shifting once again.

Calmness seemed to radiate from him though Aemond was a storm of desire inside, his arousal straining desperately against the confines of his pants and he shifted pitifully, attempting to alleviate some of the pressure and failing.

Laenyra whined while Aemond struggled internally as he stroked her, his palm providing delicious pressure and friction to her clit. Her eyes fluttered shut once again as her hips starting to rocking against his hand, seeking more pleasure.

Laenyra’s thighs began tensing once more and Aemond knew she was close again, her second peak coming quicker with her wetness, her eagerness to receive pleasure now she had had a taste.

A soft moan escaped her lips and Aemond was desperate to hear the sound again, crooking his fingers in just the right way-

“Oh gods.” She choked at the precision of his movements as they brought her over the edge once again, her whole body shivering against him and he grinned, his lips seeking hers once again.

“Such perfection.” He whispered and Laenyra fidgeted under him, suddenly bashful as he looked over her flushed body. “Don’t hide from me.”

Aemond leant down to kiss her with startling softness, with one hand he tugged softly at her hair and with the other he finally freed himself from the tight confines of his breeches.

“I love you.” They said it at the same time, in such tandem that they smiled at each other, hearts beating as one.

Aemond settled above her, taking his length in one hand and Laenyra shuddered with pleasure as he teased her folds, letting her know what he was about to do.

She nodded to him.

“I am yours, Aemond.” Laenyra murmured with fire in her eyes.

He thrust gently, slipping inside her with relative ease.

He worked himself in patiently, using her building wetness to soften his entry. She was greedy and eager to take him but Aemond was determined for her to feel no discomfort. Laenyra whined as he stroked her softly, just enough to work her up more, not enough to provide any real pleasure, she was already overstimulated.

“You must wait.” He purred in her ear, the tightness of her almost too much. He had to go slow for both their sakes and he grabbed at her reaching hands, trapping them above her head with one of his, not allowing her to distract him further.

“Let me touch you.” Laenyra pleaded, her voice was desperate but she was beyond caring. The feeling of him between her legs was too much, such perfection that she writhed beneath him, willing Aemond to move.

“Patience.” He said softly, his own resolve weakening as Laenyra whimpered. Aemond would never hurt her, and ensuring she could take him properly was his first priority.

“Fuck patience.” Laenyra growled, bucking her hips to have him further inside her.

Aemond let out a low curse at the feel of her body welcoming him, yearning for his touch.

“This is much more difficult for me than for you, my love.” He murmured, his thumb pressing into her clit, groaning as she fluttered around him. Aemond dared to thrust gently, just slow movements to see if she could take more of him. Laenyra whimpered at the action, her cunt clenching desperately.

“Aemond.” She moaned as he gave a sharper thrust forward, her body finally taking all of him, the two of them joined together perfectly.

“It’s as though the gods have made you for me.” He whispered, relishing in the feeling of fitting so well inside her. Aemond’s free hand reached up to slide over her breasts, his thumb brushing over her nipple with a grin at how willing her body was to take all of him. His look predatory as Laenyra moaned wantonly at his touch.

She gasped as he thrust gently, only drawing out a fraction before sliding back in, her wetness allowing for easy access, just as he had hoped.

“You’re perfect.” Aemond murmured, one hand still locked about her wrists as he leant down to kiss her. Laenyra whimpered against him, the feel of his chest against her sensitive nipples, the pressure of his body against hers.

“I need you to move, please.” It was desperate, she was desperate and Aemond couldn’t help the pride at it being his touch to make her feel such a way. His.

“We’ll go slow to start.” Aemond followed his words with a gentle thrust and Laenyra saw stars, her hands fighting at his. She needed to touch him, to feel all of him as he allowed her to settle into the feel of him making love to her.

“Oh gods.” She whimpered as he began to speed up, her body egging him to increase his force. It was so much, it was too much but it was perfect. “Fuck.”

Aemond was too far gone to find her cursing amusing and pulled out entirely, waiting long enough Laenyra’s eyes to open in confusion before slamming himself back in. Her eyes widened and he finally released her hands, allowing her to grip at him.

Laenyra’s felt fat tears of pleasure cascade down her cheeks as her body finally let go and Aemond continued to thrust with so much force she had to scream into her pillow.

“You’re taking me so well.” He growled, his speed and force causing the very bed to creak dangerously. Aemond gripped the headboard with one hand to assist his movements, his other hand reaching down to gently stroke her clit, the juxtaposition of his movements only overwhelming her further. “You’re perfect, Laenyra.”

She grabbed his shoulders, clinging to him desperately as he brought them closer to their climax.

“Look at me.” Aemond ordered softly, his fingers gripped her jaw to face him. Laenyra reached and took his hands in hers, their fingers entwined as she looked upon him, their gaze set upon each other as they took and gave pleasure.

They soared and fell together, like dragons taking flight and the pleasure was unspeakable between them. Aemond delved his head into the crook of her neck at the intensity, biting into his lip so fiercely he drew blood in order to not scream out his pleasure.

Laenyra was not so controlled and moaned loudly in his ear, her hands clutching at him, attempting to tether herself to reality. Her thighs shook as she came back to herself, the overstimulation bearable as Aemond settled himself beside her, one arm thrown possessively over her.

“I love you.” Aemond said breathlessly. He noted with a fierce pleasure the marks upon Laenyra’s body, how flushed she was and how she looked at him like he was the only person in the world.

“I love you.” She murmured in agreement and reached weakly to stroke his face, tugging at his hair to pull him closer for another kiss.

Aemond gave her a kiss freely before pulling away, sitting up and hurrying to dress.

“Where are you going?” Laenyra asked in a tired voice, curious as to his movements. Aemond tugged on a tunic and pressed a swift kiss to her cheek.

“I will be gone one moment, my love.” He said and grinned at the sight of her exposed and satiated in his bed. She stretched to pull a pillow closer, fatigue settling in.

Laenyra hummed her consent to his movements, her body relaxed completely for perhaps the first time in years. She only closed her eyes for a moment though Aemond had returned by the time she opened them again.

He was standing at his desk, a small pot set atop the table as he mixed a herbal brew.

“Aemond?” She yawned aloud and he turned, a cup in one hand and a wash cloth in the other.

“Moon tea.” He explained quietly, offering the mug to her with a kind smile. “Helaena keeps a store in her rooms.”

She drank it quickly, not relishing in the bitter taste. Aemond stood before her, his touch soft as he wiped away the mess from her body.

“I love you.” He whispered after a moment, his eye flickering to her face as he discarded the cloth. Laenyra’s heart clenched at how vulnerable he was, how much of himself he was exposing to her and the trust they had.

She stood and reached for him, baring her body unashamedly now that Aemond had seen all of her. His gaze was intense, their eyes set on one another and her touch was soft as she traced the exposed parts of his scar. Laenyra vowed to have him remove it for her soon, but that was a discussion that would come later.

“I love you, Aemond.” Laenyra said with a fierce look, insisting that he knew how fiercely she felt for him. “It is you and I, forever.”

He warmed at her words and smiled as she pressed her forehead against his and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his lips.

“I would ask you to return to bed.” Laenyra whispered. “If you desire it.”

Aemond chuckled and nodded, kissing her brow.

“There are many things I desire in this world, and I dare say you in my bed is at the forefront of them all.”

____________________________

Tags: @grungegrrrl @daddysfavoritesexkitten @neenieweenie @m-indkiller

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chrisbitchtree · 3 months

Text

A Reward

For @harringrovelovefest day 4

Prompt: Chocolate lava cake

T - 1k

***

It had started not long after Billy woke up from his coma in late August. The days spent in his hospital bed were long, and the nights were even longer, only broken up by the rotating cast of nurses and doctors visiting his bedside to poke him and prod him, make sure he had enough medication, and write down their findings on their charts before scurrying away to wherever they hid out when they weren’t trying to study the effects of getting possessed by an interdimensional monster on a teenage boy’s body.

His only saving grace in the early days was his visitors. Even if he wouldn’t admit it, preferring to stare at anyone that dared enter his room with an angry scowl on his face, the hours that Max and El, Hop and Joyce, little Byers, and Harrington spent sitting with him, talking, watching the small TV mounted on the wall, and in Harrington’s case, eating the Jell-o off his food tray, meant more than Billy could ever put into words. Looking back, he’s sure that he would have lost his mind without their company.

One night, just as visiting hours were winding down, Harrington slipped in the door of Billy’s room. Billy was starting to think that Steve must have an in with the hospital staff, as this was a regular occurrence, and no one ever told him to leave before he was good and ready.

They were talking about the fancy dinner Steve’s parents had made him go to the night before, and he mentioned that they’d had something called chocolate lava cake for dessert. Now, one of Billy’s guiltiest pleasures was his love of chocolate. He would consume it in pretty much any form, but this was something he’d never heard of before, let alone had, and told Steve as much.

“Oh man, it’s so fucking delicious, so sweet and gooey, you have to try it, man,” Harrington practically moaned, and ok, yeah, if Billy didn’t want to try it before, he certainly did now, if only to hear Steve moan like that again, because his only pleasure guiltier than his love of chocolate was his secret fantasising about getting Steve into bed.

“As soon as I get out of here, we’re getting me one.” Billy said, his voice full of conviction.

“I could just like, bring you one, you know, right?”

Billy shook his head. “Nope. I want to wait. It’ll be something to work towards.” Forget about walking again, or driving a car, or graduating high school. Nope, he was going to work towards having a chocolate lava cake with Steve Harrington.

“Alright then, it’s a plan.” Steve nodded.

***

From then on, it was a thing. Every time physical therapy felt like too much, his legs weak and shaky as he struggled to walk the length of the room, or he’d have a particularly upsetting therapy session, forced to talk about his dad and the Mindflayer, and all the other upsetting things swirling around in his mind, Billy would just think of sharing that hot, gooey chocolate with Harrington.

The fantasy would change, sometimes they’d be in a fancy restaurant like Steve had described going to with his parents, sitting across from each other, their feet tangled under the table, hidden from view by a long tablecloth, and sometimes they were at a small dinner party with friends, and other times, it was just them, alone in bed, naked after a good, long fuck, feeding each other the dessert by the spoonful. The one thing that never changed was the sense of hope and purpose that it gave Billy.

As the months wore on, Billy and Steve grew closer and closer, until one night, when the tension got so thick you could cut it with a knife, Steve bravely sliced right through it, sliding a hand behind Billy’s head and kissing him softly and sweetly, whispering sweet words of affection, and telling Billy how long he’d wanted to do that.

Billy could barely wait until Steve was out of the room, tasked with getting them chocolate from the vending machine down the hall before he buried his face in a pillow and screamed with joy.

***

Eventually, he confessed the silly fantasy to Steve, and it became a thing, Steve reminding him of it when Billy was tired and angry at the world, feeling like he was never going to get out of the hospital and back to a normal life. He would stand next to Billy at physical therapy and lean over, whispering to him that he just needed to remember the chocolate lava cake, and he’d feel completely ready to tackle anything again.

Then finally, there came the day that Dr. Owens came to his room with good news. He had a discharge date, February 14th. Valentine’s Day. Billy couldn’t imagine better timing. He woke up that morning with visions of chocolate in his head, but the day was so hectic what with leaving the hospital after one more conversation with Owens and the physical therapist, both of them gifting him with large sheathes of paperwork, and then getting settled into the spare room at Joyce and Hops place, that he almost forgot all about his plan by the end of the day, as darkness started to settle around their home.

But then, just as he was getting ready for bed, there was a knock on his bedroom door. He figured it was Joyce, trying to hand him yet another blanket, but when he turned the knob, there was Steve, holding the promised chocolate lava cake, accompanied by an already melting scoop of vanilla ice cream and two spoons.

Grins spread over both of their faces as Steve took a seat beside Billy on the bed, holding out the dish to him and handing over a spoon. Billy took it, scooping up a big bite. Holy fucking shit that was good. It was everything Billy had dreamed of and more, not just the dessert, but sitting there with Steve by his side. He was so happy in that moment that he’d never given up.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, babe” Steve said, capturing Billy’s lips in a kiss. Oh yeah, definitely worth never giving up.

#harringrove #harringrovelovefest #harringrovelovefest2024 #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #chrisbitchtree writes #harringrove fic

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blackopals-world · 4 months

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Couplets

Special Forces!Yuu x Rook Hunt

Rook falls in love with a poem

WARNING: My bad poetry.

There were few things that escaped his notice. A loose hair or a loose hare, it makes no difference.

So when he noticed a stray piece of paper left on a desk he examined it.

It was no ordinary slip of paper, it was parchment paper. Not only that the writing was no ordinary scribbling but of finely inked calligraphy. Each word clearly and deliberately crafted for beauty.

And the words.

Oh, the words!

Crisp apple blossoms floated on the breeze

Though the valleys passed the trees

I lay in the shade of a solid oak tasting the honey off bees

But when I awoke I stood on a parapet with my kin folk

Brother in arms

Broken in arms

Blood that spilled before they sounded the alarms.

Before we knew it we were surrounded, bounded, and taken to that farm.

The beauty! The passion! Très bien!

And how fortunate he was to find out that there were other pages scattered around campus. In the cafeteria, the gym, the track field, and the quad. Rook recounted the schedule of his target .

In fields of war, I once did stride, A soldier strong, with heart abide, Where bullets flew and cannons roared, I fought for rights, my country's hoard. With rifle tight, I stood my ground, Against the foe, my courage profound, Their cries and screams, I did not flinch, My duty done, my spirit unbroken. The memories still linger, though the pain, Of loss and cost, my heart doth gain, The comrades fallen, the battles won, The scars of war, forever done. But now, I've left the battlefield, To live a life of peace and heal, The armor off, my heart doth mend, The past, a story to amend. Yet in my dreams, the gunfire rings, The cries of men, the scent of things, The memories of war, they linger on, A past life, forever gone.

Beautiful! Heart wrenching!

The story of a warrior who has laid down their arms. The brilliant continuation of the last more fractured poem. But the ending while filled with solace bares a sense of melancholy. They know that even if they no longer fight the war of the mind goes on.

Truly magnificent!

The next poem was far different from the last few.

In the twilight hours, when shadows dance, I found myself in a whimsical trance, With a pet bunny, mischievous and sly, Whose nature concealed a devilish eye. Oh, this bunny, so small and serene, But beneath that fur, a mischief unseen. A playful sprite, with a wicked smile, A master of pranks, all the while. With nimble paws and a daring mind, This bunny would leave chaos behind. No vase was safe, no curtain spared, As it hopped and leapt, without a care. Its eyes, they gleamed with a fiendish glow, As it plotted its next mischievous show. No toy or treat could quench its thirst, For the thrill of chaos, it was immersed. It would nibble and chew on everything in sight, Leaving a trail of mess, a chaotic delight. The furniture, the carpet, even my shoes, All bore the marks of its playful abuse. Yet, despite all the havoc it would create, I couldn't help but find it truly great. For in its antics, there lay a charm, A reminder that life need not be so harm. For in this bunny's game, I found release, A break from the mundane, a moment of peace. To laugh and play with a creature so wild, Unleashing my spirit, like an innocent child. So, let us not judge this bunny's demeanor, For beneath its mischief lies a lesson much cleaner. To embrace the joy in life's playful spree, And find solace in chaos, wild and free.

Adorable! So cute!

Clearly they have an eye for beauty.

The adoration of something cute but rotten on the inside and finding the charm in it.

Truly they both must be of the same mind and heart. Truly they were the most perfect person for him. He didn't even know anyone who did such unique calligraphy, let alone for poetry. They have the soul of a poet, and a hand of an artist.

The last poem he found had nothing to do with the others. He had followed the trail to a certain Prefect. They had been chasing a rather mischievous rabbit that held a tattered notebook in its mouth.

"Sargent! Put that down!" They yelled trying to wrestle the fluffy beast who jumped up in down in challenge.

They rabbit sprinted off leaving a flutter of papers behind and another poem.

In the golden glow of the setting sun, I stood on a hilltop, my journey done. Silent and still, I watched the scene unfold, A beautiful blonde hunter, brave and bold. His eyes, like emeralds, pierced the twilight air, A hunter's gaze, both gentle and aware. Golden locks cascading, kissed by the breeze, A vision of strength and quiet expertise. He moved with grace through the thick undergrowth, A nimble predator, embodying both The wild and the tender, the fierce and the kind, A paradox of nature, perfectly aligned. His steps were whispers on the forest floor, As he pursued his prey, a dance of lore. I marveled at his skill, his focused might, His connection with the land, his primal sight. With every breath, his spirit seemed to soar, A symbiotic bond, forevermore. Nature's child, protector of the wild, His presence, a testament, both meek and mild. The sunlight danced upon his fair skin, A radiant glow, a halo from within. His heart beating in tune with the earth's song, A harmony of strength, where he belonged. In that fleeting moment, my soul took flight, Transfixed by his beauty, his essence of light. A hunter, yes, but so much more I saw, A guardian of nature, a lover of awe. As darkness fell and the moon took its place, I couldn't help but feel a sense of grace. For in that encounter, I glimpsed a truth, That beauty can be found in strength and youth. So, I'll forever cherish that sight I beheld, Of a beautiful blonde hunter, in the wild he dwelled. And in my heart, his memory will reside, A gentle reminder of nature's untamed stride.

Rook felt his ears turn red as he read. To think the one he had been looking for and the one he had his eye on had been looking back at him all this time.

Before he got ahead of himself he found another paper.

He strutted with confidence, his charm on display, With golden locks that shimmered like the sun's ray, But oh, how his presence grated on my nerves, Like a relentless itch that never subserves. He spoke in honeyed words, with a silver tongue, Each syllable crafted, every sentence well-spun, But beneath the surface, I sensed a shallow depth, A facade of perfection, a veiled masquerade adept. His eyes, so green, held a glimmer of deceit, A spark that hinted at a hidden conceit, He thought himself the epitome of grace, A prize to be won, a trophy to embrace. Yet, in all his glory, he failed to see, The annoyance that grew within me, For beauty alone cannot captivate the soul, It takes substance and character to make one whole. With each passing encounter, my patience wore thin, His incessant flattery, his persistent grin, I longed for authenticity, for genuine connection, Not a superficial bond built on mere affection. But he remained oblivious to my growing disdain, Blinded by his own ego, immune to my pain, And so, I resolved to escape his shallow allure, To find solace in a world where honesty was pure. For beauty fades, like petals withering away, And true worth lies in the heart, not in a face so cliché, So, I bid farewell to the blonde suitor's charm, And sought a deeper love, one that would disarm. No longer annoyed by his superficiality, I embraced the freedom of my own individuality, For a beautiful soul, devoid of pretense, Is far more captivating, far more immense.

Rook wasn't one to be sensitive but this one actually hurt. They thought he was shallow, and not genuine in his love for beauty.

He had his work cut out for him. He would correct this problem.

Perhaps with a poem.

#special forces!yuu #yuuniverse #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #rook hunt x reader #twisted wonderland rook #twst rook #rook hunt

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604to647 · 3 months

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Safest with You (Ch. 11 - The Poker Game)

5.9K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: Din hosts a poker game and invites you and your friends; the meeting of friends prompts a discussion about the status of your relationship.

Warnings: 18+ content (MDNI please), new-ish established relationship, dirty talk and teasing, mentions of infidelity (not Din), reader gets in her own head a bit (some anxiety), pet names as usual (Pretty bird, pretty girl, baby, sweetheart, etc.), reader is described as shorter than Din and Din can pick her up.

A/N: Please kindly suspend your disbelief and allow me to write Poe Dameron as Boba Fett’s son 😂😂😂 Like, when I thought of a roguish, charming, sh*t disturber son of a mob boss, Oscar Isaac’s delicious face just came to mind 🤷🏻‍♀️ I'm going to level with you, I wasn't a big fan of Poe in the Sequel trilogy - too much fly boy/fuck boi energy for me, and that's kind of how I'm writing him here. I'm sorry, Poe-lovers, please don't come after me! (For the record, I *am* a big fan of OI!)

I ran a poll on WIP Wednesday asking asking if there was a preference to separate the smut at the end this chapter into its own post. I told myself that if even one person answered that they wanted it separate, then I would do that; it's easy enough to click on the link at the end of the chapter to take you to the smut if you so choose! I hope no one is disappointed that the storyline is moving in the direction where smut will be a regular addition to the chapters - but if that's not your bag, I totally understand! I'm sorry if you need to go and am so thankful that you've read along to this point 😘😘😘

Series Masterlist

In the following weeks, you and Din fall into a comfortable rhythm and easily slot each other into your busy lives.

Your nightly dog walks resume and on most week nights Din tries to stay at your apartment, with you working late more often than not and it being closer to your office. He’s becoming a familiar face to your work colleagues, bringing you (and often them as well) dinner as an easy and welcomed excuse to see you. Some days he’ll just join you for a lunch trip to your favourite sandwich shop and the two of you will have a quick picnic outside your office building if the weather is warm enough. Weekends are for long, lazy dates that span the entire day, rolling into romantic dinners that have you and Din eating your way across the city. It’s so easy being with Din; the conversation never stops, the sex is brain meltingly good, and he never ceases to make you feel adored. If anyone were to ask, you were the smartest, funniest, most beautiful woman on this planet and Din would readily unretire his boxing gloves if anyone dared to disagree. Every moment with Din makes you giddy; not only is this bear of a man actually a secret softie, he’s also goofy and funny, and lucky for you, his new favourite pastime is to make you laugh.

One night over dinner, you mention in passing that you love the arm waving tube men outside of used car dealerships (actually, you don’t know what they’re called, so you did a sort of arm flail with both your arms above your head and Din almost died laughing). The following Saturday, you arrive at the gym in the afternoon to find that Din has rented two tube men and they’re bending, blowing this way and that, arms flying and rippling from the force of the air being blown from the fan units in their base. You join a large group of onlookers in front of the gym, mostly children, laughing and watching with amusement as the silly attention-grabbing gimmick brings you pure unadulterated joy for a good 10 minutes. After going in, you find Din folding some towels next to the boxing ring and you launch yourself at him directly, too full of laughter and delight to care who sees. “Thank you thank you thank you thank you,” you murmur against his lips, unable to stop smiling. Din picks you up so you can wrap your legs around him, not caring who sees either; he wants everyone at the gym to know whose girl you are. Feeling your big smile against his mouth before seeing it, he grins, “You’re welcome, pretty bird.”

“Are they a permanent feature?”

“Unfortunately, no. Just for the weekend, then I have to give them back to the used car lot down the street, Watto’s. Plus, people keep coming in asking if we’re having a special on memberships today,” he says with a groan.

Giggling, you slide down Din’s body and give him a long, deep kiss, one that will guarantee a fair bit of ribbing from the guys, before heading up to Din’s apartment via the gym’s second floor entrance. Most of these indulgent weekends start at Din’s so he can stay close to work – you take to baking in Din’s apartment and bringing down treats for the patrons, which are generally very well received. When you brought down ginger molasses cookies, Greef had jokingly scolded you saying his boxers shouldn’t have too many sweet treats as part of their training, before scarfing down two cookies, then swatting Jimmy’s hand away from the plate and pocketing three more. You’re sure your offering the following weekend of high fibre raisin bran muffins were better for training regimens, but the enthusiasm for them seemed lower.

Din’s place, the apartment and the gym as an extension, starts to feel more and more comfortable; a small collection of your things (books, toiletries) have migrated to his apartment, and you love that the familiar faces at Mando’s are starting to fold into your life as well.

The only small twinge of regret you have is that with all the time you're spending with Din, especially the time spent at his place, you’re not spending as much time with Al. He’s more than welcomed at Din’s but you hadn’t wanted to uproot him too much, or impose too much on Din too quickly, so on the weekends Bea’s been coming by to walk Al and take care of him. You miss your special guy, your long weekend walks and dog park events; as you cut the butter into your shortbread cookie dough in Din’s kitchen, you decide that you have to make more of an effort to make sure Al isn’t left out.

“Can you do me a favour?”

“Anything, pretty bird.”

“Do you think you might be able to hang out with Al tomorrow night? I feel like he’s feeling a little neglected, and I don’t want to leave him alone. I’d take him to Rory’s but her building has a weird no pets rule,” you pout a little as you scratch Al’s head with one hand while holding the phone to your ear with your other.

Without hesitation, Din agrees, “Sure, baby. I’d love to have him over during poker night. Guarantee he won’t feel lonely.”

“I’ll make some food for your poker night as a thank you! And I’ll bring a dog bed too. God knows I have a few to spare,” you chuckle as you scan your apartment to pick a bed to bring.

“No need, pretty bird. I bought Al a dog bed for here already.”

“Of course you did,” you smile to yourself. Thoughtful, thoughtful man.

And that’s how you find yourself with two big bags of food, an overnight bag each for yourself and a dog, and said dog in tow, looking up at the long flight of stairs leading up to Din’s apartment. Luckily, you don’t have to wait very long before his thundering steps are heard and he comes to help you carry everything. Once on the top landing, Din gingerly places everything on the ground before pulling you in close for the greeting you deserve.

“So… I’ve been thinking…” Din starts, almost shy, “Do you think your friends might like to come over and hang out here? It won’t be a ‘girls’ night’ but there’s food and drinks and it might be fun for our friends to meet? …I mean, if you think it’s a good idea?”

Grinning at Din’s suggestion, you think outloud, “I mean, it’s not a bad idea… I’ll check with Rory and Bea, but what brought this on?”

Din answers by burying his face into your neck and nibbling on your earlobe, “Just like being with you, pretty bird.”

You relent easily, “Ok, but I’m warning you right now about playing with Rory, she’s going to take you all to the cleaner’s.”

“Good. It’s been boring being the only one who wins money,” laughs Paz, who has suddenly appeared. Giving Din a pointed look, “Hey, you know, the gentlemanly thing is to help the lady carry her bags inside,” before giving you a big bear side hug and greeting you with his new nickname for you (“Hey, Lil’ Lady.”) He picks up the food bags and heads in, passing Bo who’s on her way onto the landing to say hi. For one reason or another, you haven’t seen her since Jimmy’s fight night; after a big hug, she looks at you with seriousness, “Thank god you’re back. This one,” she jabs a thumb at Din, “was an unbearable grump while you were apart. Please never leave us again.” She takes Al’s leash from you, and leads him inside the apartment; a second later you hear a raucous cheer of “Alfredo!!” followed by Al’s happy barks.

After setting out the food you brought (caprese sandwiches, sugar dusted mascarpone-blueberry turnovers, bruschetta) and putting what needs to be warmed in the oven (garlic knots, salmon-onion dip, turkey meatball pops), you text the girls and receive an enthusiastic response to the suggested change of plans.

Sitting on Din’s lap to give him the good news, you pass around the sandwiches to the delight of the players already seated at the big card table Din set out for the occasion. You’re excited that the Mandos that are here tonight will get to meet some of your friends and you tell them so.

“Looking forward to it! And… you get to meet Poe tonight,” says Koska, with an almost apologetic look.

“Who’s Poe?” you ask, curiously looking around at the facial expressions of the Mandos, ranging from eye rolling to what can only be described as shit eating grins.

Din explains, “He’s Boba’s son.”

“And you guys… like him?”

“We have to,” quips Paz, which is met with laughter from the group, “but we also do for real. He’s just… a lot.”

Mayfeld chimes in, “He’s all about having good time; always trying to up the ante cause he’s got ‘My dad’s a big deal’ energy and always has. Used to start shit for fun when we were in school cause he knew no one could do anything to him.”

“I remember it more like he would start trouble with that smart mouth of his, then one of us would have to finish it.” Paz looks at you, “Used to be me and Din standing between him and a bloody nose, every damn time.”

Din appears to be a bit more forgiving of the past, “He’s calmed down a bit now… still has the smart mouth and a lot of energy, but blows off steam in more constructive ways… like poker instead of all night partying. Which is like the rest of us, really…”

Jimmy reaches past you to grab a sandwich, “Yeah, the rest of you old timers…”

“What was that?”, Bo cocks an eye brow at the young boxer, who smartly pretends to be incredibly invested in selecting the right sandwich.

Wrapping his arms a little more tightly around your waist, Din draws soothing circles on your thigh with his fingers, “Don’t let Paz give you the wrong impression of Poe; he’s just bitter because he was always the one who ended up getting in trouble when someone wanted to kick Poe’s ass.”

Paz huffs, “Yeah, getting in trouble for defending him when he probably should have taken a pounding; kissing someone else’s girlfriend half the time.”

“Omigod” you giggle, as Paz puts Jimmy in a loose headlock; revenge for the “old timers” comment.

Woves pipes up, “Oh yeah, he’s still a shameless flirt. Warn your friends.”

“Warn her friends?! Warn herself!” exclaims Koska.

“He’s mainly all talk though. Lisa would slit him from balls to throat if she ever caught him cheating,” Woves explains, seemingly to you.

“Caught him again, you mean,” Koska grimaces.

“Oh shoot. I forgot about that girl on the yacht.”

“I wasn’t even thinking about Fennec’s birthday party, but yeah she was pissed.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“Donut shop,” chime in Bo, Mayfeld, Din and Paz in unison.

“Lisa is his girlfriend?” you ask, unsure.

“His wife. And the mother of his two beautiful kids. They’ve been together since high school. On and off, if you haven’t guessed already,” Bo looks embarrassed, even though she has no reason to.

Din hooks his chin over your shoulder and says gently, “That was in the past, though. They’ve worked through it and he’s been good.”

“Nah. I bet he just got good at not getting caught. Always assume cheating until proven otherwise, is what I say,” pontificates Mayfield.

“And that, Mayfeld, is why you’re single,” snickers Woves.

“Right, and you’re beating them off with a stick,” counters Mayfield. The group laughs, but you find yourself quiet. You know the Mandos are just joking around and that they’ve all known eachother forever, but you can’t help but bristle a little at the casual way they talk about Poe’s past (and potential?) infidelity. If the rest of the Mandos are anything like Din, you know they value loyalty and fealty, but did their sense of unwavering commitment not extend to partners? You and Din haven’t officially discussed exclusivity; you had assumed that like you, Din wasn’t seeing anyone else – but maybe that wasn’t the case.

You can feel yourself getting in your own head and before you can help yourself, an image of Din kissing someone else flashes before your eyes and your heart constricts painfully. Sliding off of Din’s lap, you excuse yourself to go check on the food in the oven; you make to busy yourself with taking out and plating the food, but you can’t help it, the heart-breaking image has taken root in your mind. You’re mad at yourself for spiraling so quickly over something created entirely by your own overactive imagination. Yes, you haven’t confirmed your relationship status with Din, but he hasn’t given you any reason to give any weight to your sudden anxiety. This stabbing pain in your chest is entirely of your own making and you feel so much embarrassment that you start to tear up a little bit, which makes it even worse.

You’re not sure how long you’re in the kitchen wallowing, but it must be a while because Din comes in looking for you, “Need any help, pretty bird?”

Turning away from him, you say quietly, “No, thank you though. I should have everything out in a minute.”

And just like that, Din knows something is wrong; he makes sure you don’t have anything in your hands before wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling his nose right behind your ear and kissing your neck lovingly, “I’m here, baby.”

He doesn’t ask you what’s wrong, even though he wants to know. He doesn’t ask how he can help, even though he would do anything to make it better; he just wants you to know he’s there and that you can come to him on your terms. You turn in his arms and bury your face into him, breathing in his soothing scent and instantly feeling calmer. Face smooshed into his chest, you mumble, “Dhnn, dyoothkchhhteenisohhhk?”

Din chuckles, “Sorry, pretty bird, I don’t think I caught that.”

Leaning away slightly, but not making eye contact, you re-ask your somewhat loaded question in a quiet voice, “Din, do you think cheating is ok?”

Cupping your jaw and tilting your head up to meet his concerned eyes, Din says gently, “No, no, I don’t, sweetheart. What brought this on? Is it because we were talking about Poe?”

You sigh a small sigh, “I guess so. You just seem to all be so… okay with his cheating history? At least everyone talks about it so casually. And I’m guessing you all know Lisa too… I feel so bad for her if everyone is talking about how her husband cheats like it’s so normal or something…” You collect yourself and take a deep breath, “Din, actually, no, I’m sorry. That’s being presumptuous. You’ve all been friends forever and have so much shared history… I don’t mean to assume anything about your friendships. I just… I didn’t know if the way Poe’s cheating seems to be no big deal… means that all cheating is no big deal.”

“I see,” considers Din. He knows this is a serious topic and it obviously means a lot to you, but he can’t help but find your anxious state somewhat endearing, you aren’t usually so flustered and it makes him desperately want to scoop you up in his arms and soothe away your worries. He bends down to give you a little peck on your lips before picking you up by your waist and placing you on a free space on the counter. He doesn’t want you to be able to avoid eye contact with him when he answers, “Pretty bird, I don’t blame you for getting the wrong idea. You’re right, we probably are too casual when we talk about Poe’s exploits. It’s been going on forever, and he’s kind of like… a show that we get front row seats for? Like a celebrity kind of? We love him, and he give us something to talk about, but the way he lives is not the way we live. He lives in a totally different world than the Mandos; when you’re the boss’ son, you play by different rules.”

You gaze reverently at Din as he so patiently and lovingly talks you down from your self created ledge and can’t help but let a little smile crack.

“Poe… well, you’ll see. Poe is Poe. Can’t be mad at him. And sometimes that makes it seem like the shit he pulls isn’t that bad. But, baby, for ourselves? I promise you, no Mando has ever been a cheat. It goes against everything we stand for; we don’t cheat each other, we don’t cheat the family, and we definitely don’t cheat in our relationships. And I swear to you, baby – I never have and would never cheat. Not on anyone, but definitely not you.” Leaning in to alternate soft kisses to your lips, your neck, the corners of your mouth and your nose, Din’s voice gets low and husky, “Why would I want anyone else? You’re my dream girl. You make me laugh and smile. You’re so sweet. And the smartest. You know how smart you are? I’m obsessed with everything that comes out of that mouth. I could listen to you talk about anything for hours. Days. And you’re beautiful, and kind, and you take care of me, and my friends. Just look at how much effort you put in to the food for tonight when you didn’t have to even bring anything at all. I’m so lucky. Why would I ever want anyone else?”

“Oh Din,” you whisper, marveling at Din’s talent for saying all the perfect things; you had wound yourself up inexplicably tight, but he knew exactly how to calm you and pull you out of your dark place, “How do you always know what I need to hear to feel better?”

“It’s actually very easy, sweetheart. All I need to do is tell you the truth,” murmurs Din, as he starts to deepen the kisses, “Actually, scratch that. I lied a bit, I’m just obsessed with this mouth, period. Love kissing this mouth. Love when this mouth opens up for me. How it feels pressed on my skin. The way it takes my cock…”

“Oh fuck, Din-“

“…but the thing I love the most about this mouth is the sounds it makes when you come,” Din buries his face into your neck, nipping at your sensitive spots as you cross your ankles behind his back and pull him closer.

A round of raucous laughter from the poker table pulls you out of your arousal laden haze and away from Din, both of you panting lightly. Looking in Din’s eyes and finding nothing but sincerity, you feel comfortable enough to broach the last of your overblown concerns, “Din, if you were seeing other people though, I couldn’t be mad, I guess. It’s not like we’ve had any talks about exclusivity.”

At first, Din isn’t sure if you’re being serious, the idea so absurd to him. But when he sees you start to chew your bottom lip nervously, he placates you, “Oh, pretty bird, I didn’t think we needed to have a talk about it. I’ve been exclusively yours since I met you in the coffeeshop. I was yours and only yours before I even knew your name, before I knew if I would ever see you again,” Din leans his forehead against yours and you can barely breathe from his romantic words.

When you sigh, relaxed, Din grins, “Feeling better, sweetheart?” Looking up at him, your eyes bright, you smile and nod happily. As he helps you hop down from the counter, you cheekily ask, “Don’t you want to ask if I’m seeing anyone else?”

Din stills, hands frozen where they were holding your waist not a moment ago, “Are you?”

Now you can’t help but be mischievous, “And if I were?”

Eyes darkening, Din reaches for you, “Baby, I-”

At that moment, your phone buzzes and you’re saved, “Oh! Bea and Rory are downstairs! I’m going to let them in!” You grab a plate of garlic knots and practically flounce out of the kitchen, depositing the plate at the poker table before exiting the apartment. You’re about halfway down the stairs when you hear the outside door being buzzed open, and see the smiling faces of your friends along with a the attractive face of a dark haired man you don’t recognize.

The man is chatting animatedly with Bea, his smile lighting up his whole face. He is quite handsome, you admit – soft longish curls frame his face and he’s mainly clean cut with just a hint of a shadow, giving you a clear view of his chiseled jaw. His lightly hooded eyes are bright and full of mirth, and his expression is currently so energetic he has a charming, almost boyish look about him.

You wait for the trio on the second-floor landing; Rory spots you first (“Babe!!”) and rushes up the last few steps before enveloping you in a big hug, the bags in her hands full of clinking wine bottles. You giggle and give her a big kiss on the cheek, “Is this overkill?” as you peek in her bags and find 7 bottles (2 Cabernet Sauvignons, 2 Sauvignon Blancs, 2 Beaujolais [that’s for you], and one bottle of Rosé).

Rory shrugs, “Didn’t know what everyone would like?”

“That’s why I brought tequila! Everyone hates tequila!” quips the stranger, beaming widely.

“…and tequila hates everyone,” you smile and introduce yourself while pulling Bea in for a hug.

“Poe! Poe Dameron! You must be Din’s girl. Must say, I can see what the fuss is all about,” he winks, “Guess it’s true what they say, beautiful girls only hang out with other beautiful girls.”

You’re so confused. The line is so cheesy. And you know about his flirting from the Mandos… but you’re not creeped out? Apparently you and your friends are not immune to Poe’s famous charm and earnest brown eyes and you suddenly understand what Din meant when he said you just can’t be mad at Poe.

“Dameron!” comes a shout at the top of the stairs; it’s Paz, with a look of impatience on his face. Unless you’re Paz, you chuckle to yourself.

“Sorry, Heavy P! Got distracted, I mean, even you can’t blame me,” Poe flashes his winning smile again before angling out his elbows and offering up his arms for any willing woman to take. Letting your friends have at it, you walk ahead and mouth to Paz as you get to the top, “Omigod. Heavy P?!?”

Paz rolls his eyes and shakes his head (“Lil’ Lady, don’t.”) before muttering, “I swear to god,” and holding out his hands to take the wine from Rory and the bags of food from Bea (which you now realize that Poe notably did not offer to help carry).

You enter the apartment as a comical looking group: Paz laden down with bags that he carries directly to the kitchen (scowling), you looking amused (eyes wide with a kind of astonishment at the scene that just played out), then Poe bringing up the rear, making a grand entrance with a beautiful woman on each arm, grandstanding like a debutant making her entrance at the cotillion. Al makes a beeline for Rory and Bea when he spots them, and they readily abandon Poe to greet the pup; you have to stifle a snicker when you see Poe’s look of disappointment at having been upstaged by a dog.

“Told you he’s a lot,” a voice whispers in your ear; you turn to find Din grinning at you. He gives you a little kiss on top of your head before going to greet and welcome your friends. Introductions are made and everyone gathers around the card table so that those who are playing can play, and everyone can chat, drink and eat. The Mandos are incredibly hospitable and warm towards your friends; you don’t know if it’s out of kindness to you and Din or just because they really are a friendly bunch, but it fills you with joy to see your friends so well taken care of. To no one’s surprise (not even Bea or Rory’s), Poe insists on pouring everyone a shot of the tequila he brought and plays deaf to people’s protests. Rory downs hers without complaint before going back to her cards; you wrinkle your nose in disgust at your shot and when Poe isn’t looking, Din drinks yours, and you see Mayfeld nonchalantly do the same for Bea. Poe just goes about his business, pouring himself more shots and chaotically raising bets while telling wild story after story about the people in the room (usually targeting the last person who called his hand). He’s entertaining for sure, and he's seems less interested in winning at poker than he is getting everyone to have a good time. It’s working. Poe’s energy is infectious and the tequila is effective - the party gets livelier and livelier as the evening goes on.

At a certain point, Woves and Paz nearly get into it after Poe (deliberately?) exposes his hand and everyone decides it’s a good time for a break so people can stretch and get more food. You and Bea flop down on the couch with your wine, and a few people, including Poe, come over to join you, “So, when are you going to come and meet my dad?”

“Why would she meet your dad?” Bea asks curiously.

You look at Poe, your eyes widening just a little, mouth open to interject but having no response ready. Without missing a beat, Poe says smoothly, “Oh, my dad and Din’s dad were best friends. Din’s basically family. My father’s favourite son.”

Bea laughs and you shoot Poe a grateful look, which he acknowledges only with the quickest of winks. Din comes over, catching the tail end of this exchange; he claps Poe on the back appreciatively before sitting down and throwing his arm around you, “I think I’m done for the night, pretty bird. Don’t have any more money for Rory to take.”

“Told you she’d clean you all out,” you giggle.

“I think both Bo and Paz are in love with her, too. I’m not getting in the middle of that, so I’m just going to hang out here with you for the rest of the night, if you don’t mind.”

You shake your head, “Of course not, but are you sure? I don’t want your friends to think that when I’m around, your attention is divided.”

“Oh, it’s not divided, sweetheart.” Smooth talker. But you can’t help but feel flushed at Din’s words.

“Ok, ew. Yeah, Dad is going to love you. He’s been wanting Din to settle down for forever and he deep down he loves this gooey stuff,” bemoans Poe, and the group cracks up.

When the card game looks like it’s going to start up again, Bea yawns a bit and announces she’s going to go hover over Rory to gently encourage her to cash out her winnings so they can head out soon. This reminds you that you have something for her, and you excuse yourself saying you’ll be right back.

When you emerge from the bedroom with the book you brought for Bea, you run into Din in the hallway; he’s leaning up against the wall, as if waiting for you.

“Hey you,” your smile easy and wide, reflective of how content you are with how this evening has gone.

Din moves towards you and using only his size advantage, crowds you against the wall he was just leaning against, then braces his forearm above you and peers down at you, “Hey pretty bird.”

You can’t help but let out a school girl giggle at this move.

Still holding your gaze, Din says in a low voice, “Don’t think I forgot what we were talking about in the kitchen before.”

Oh. So that’s what this little display is about; you’ve had a little time to think about it and you smile sheepishly, “Oh Din, I have to apologize for that. Like, the image of you kissing someone else only flashed across my mind for a second and it upset me so much! I shouldn’t have teased you with the same thing. I’m sorry.” You look up at Din with your most innocent, forgive-me eyes.

Din softens internally; he had been prepared to tease you mercilessly, but now looking down at you and feeling a little bad that you had been upset earlier, he’s tempted to let you off the hook. Maybe.

“Pretty bird, I’m sorry you had even a moment’s doubt and that it upset you; in case it’s not clear, I’m yours and yours only. There isn’t anyone else, baby. Couldn’t be anyone else.”

You melt under Din’s words and you want to make sure he knows how you feel too, “I feel the same way. You’re so sweet, and kind, and caring, I can’t believe you’re real sometimes. You make me so happy. There’s no one else for me but you, Din.”

“But,” Din leans in to whisper darkly in your ear, “if you were seeing other people…”

You gasp a little at the low edge to his voice. “…I would want to know who they were.” Din places a light kiss on your jaw before pulling back to move to the other side of your face and when he does, the expression you see on his face makes you shiver. “I’d want to make sure they were treating you right.” Another light kiss on your jaw. Switching back again to the other side to nuzzle just below your ear, he continues in his deep, sultry drawl, “But when it’s my time with you… I’d remind you of who you really belong to.”

Afraid of letting out a whimper, you bite down on your lower lip, eyes open wide while you take in Din’s words. “The things I would do to you would make you scream out my name until you couldn't speak, until you forget every other name but mine. And when I’m done, there wouldn’t be any doubt in that pretty head of yours that you belong to me, sweetheart.”

This time you do whimper out loud and you’re sure everyone on the other side of the wall can hear; at this, Din dips to kiss his way to your other ear and growls, “Mine.” You feel your panties dampen at his possessive words, the low timber of his voice making your knees buckle; Din catches you by wedging his thigh between your legs and you curl your arms under his to steady yourself. “Yours,” you whisper, “all yours, daddy.”

Din’s mouth is on yours in a flash, tongue gaining quick entrance as your soft moans escape without your permission. He drinks you in like a man parched, chasing your taste, unable to get enough. You match the pressing brush of his lips and the movement of his tongue, stroke for stroke; his possessive manner and almost jealous sounding tone unlocking a deep desire within you. It’s the same part of you that loves to be marked by his mouth, his hands, his cum; that part of your being that wants Din to claim you. You’re getting all the way lost in Din and the way he surrounds you when you drop the book you’re still holding for Bea and it makes a loud thud that silences the chattering voices on the other side of the wall.

“Hey, lovebirds! We can fucking hear you!” booms Paz.

“Looks like I’m not the horniest one for once!”

“Shut up, Dameron!” Din yells, but with a grin only for you, “Yeah, I’m kicking them all out now, pretty bird.”

Chuckling, you give Din a sweet kiss before picking up the book that gave you both away, “Don’t do that. We need to give Rory time to take all of Poe’s money.” Winking, you turn to blow Din a kiss before rounding the corner to a chorus of hoots and hollers.

---

Poker night has been so much fun, you’re almost sad it’s over. Everyone ate and loved the food you and the girls brought over; Mayfeld quietly apologizes for eating over 70% of the garlic knots and on behalf of everyone else who plan to politely demand that you supply the food for all future poker games. To no one’s surprise, Rory leaves the poker game the big winner, having taken nearly everyone’s money and also the hearts of both Paz and Bo. Jimmy and Brian encourage you to invite your friends to the next big fight, making sure to do so in Bea’s earshot. Woves and Koska, both wine drunk, fight over who gets to take Al out for his nighttime walk; a fight they both lose when Din steps in and declares clearly that Al’s late-night walks are spoken for. Poe, to (poorly) quote Pride and Prejudice, simpered and smirked all evening and made love to them all – you concede that the Mandos were right, he really is the life of the party.

After everyone leaves and you put your girls in a cab, you and Din set out on your nightly walk with Al. As you stroll through the neighbourhood, still bustling despite the late hour, you feel Din pull you closer into his side and you respond by hugging his waist and looking up adoringly at him, “I think Al had such a good time tonight, Din. Thank you for letting me bring him.”

“Of course. Al’s my boy. What about you, pretty bird? Did you have a good time?”

You nod truthfully, “I really did. I think everyone had such a good time and your friends were so, so nice to my friends.”

“Even Poe?”

“Especially Poe.” You both chuckle and continue the walk in comfortable silence for a bit. Deep in thought about the serious discussion the two of you had in the midst of all the fun tonight, Din wants to make sure you’re feeling okay, “How are you feeling about what we talked about? I know some of the stuff with Poe made you a bit uneasy.”

“Mmmhmm, I went to a bad head space for a bit, but you pulled me out. Thank you, Din,” you say, lightheartedly, your easy tone suggestive of having moved past it.

“I’m always here for you, pretty bird.”

“And I’m more than okay with what we talked about,” you add; it’s an innocent enough response, but now you’re thinking about how hot your conversation in the hallway was. Recalling Din’s dark expression as he talked about making you his has you squirming and you feel the warmth of your arousal start to seep through your panties. When you finally make it to the sidewalk outside of the gym, you decide to broach the topic again.

“Din?”

“Yes, baby?”

You consider how to ask for what you want, “When we get home, do you think you can.. I want you to… do what you said in the hallway?”

Din tilts his head slightly to convey he’s not sure what you mean.

Suddenly shy, the words spill out in a hurry, “I want you act like I’m seeing other people, and then I want you to fuck me hard until I forget that anyone exists but you.”

Realization hits Din like a freight train and he’s overcome by his need to have you right now, “Is that what you want, pretty bird? You want me to make you scream my name so many times you don’t need to know any one else’s?”

You nod, biting your bottom lip, “Fuck me and claim me, daddy.”

“Holy fu-, I can do that. But tonight, I’m not your daddy. You only call me by my name. Got it, pretty bird?”

Wordlessly, you nod again.

“Good girl. Now get upstairs.”

Go to: Ch. 11 Addendum - After The Poker Game

#din djarin #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #modern!din djarin #modern au #din djarin fluff

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foundress0fnothing · 4 months

Text

Firm and Fragrant Still the Brambleberries

For @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk. Happy Holidays! It has been such a joy to get to know you over these last few months. You are wonderful and brilliant, and I cannot wait to FINALLY be able to scream in your comments about my obsession with Semper Eadem without arousing your suspicions.

Many thanks to @velidewrites and @perhapsajacket for beta reading this first part of this fic and reassuring me that the Nessian vibes were working. And many thanks to @acotargiftexchange for putting together this wonderful event. Y’all are the absolute best! 🥰

Summary: When Nesta became a nurse at the start of the war, she could not have predicted a patient as challenging as Lieutenant Cassian Davies, nor he a nurse as captivating as her. As the same war that brought them together threatens to tear them apart, Nesta and Cassian must navigate the complexities of love and duty to find the way back to each other. A WWI historical AU.

For information about the historical elements to this fic, see the end notes.

This is chapter 1 of 4.

Read on AO3 or continue reading below the cut!

Chapter 1: Somerville College, Oxford

July 1916

“I think of you hour by hour. You are always close in your own secret place in my heart. I hold you in my arms when no one else is near. I kiss your forehead, your eyes, your hair. No, not your lips, dear, even in fancy. I have never in my maddest dreams kissed your lips. But I ache and crave and long for them, though—till you give me leave—I dare not even pretend that they are mine. Will you ever give me leave? You say No now. Yet I think you will, Avery. I think you will. I have known ever since that first moment—”

“He’s asking for you again.”

Nesta looked up from her book to see Gwyn Berdara’s head poking through the doorway. It was late—or early, rather, she realized, blearily squinting at the clock on the wall and rubbing her eyes. She should have retired to her bed in the dormitory hours ago, and from the pleased look on Gwyn’s face at catching her off-guard, her fellow nurse was well-aware of that fact.

“Surely someone who’s actually on duty,” Nesta said, yawning and looking pointedly at Gwyn, “can take care of whatever it is he needs.”

Gwyn snorted. “Apparently there’s no one except ‘Nurse Nes’ who can make the pain go away with her magic touch.” She waggled her eyebrows. “So it’s a good thing you’re still here.”

Bristling at the nickname that only one of the soldiers convalescing at the Third Southern General Hospital was shameless enough to call her, she replied curtly, “I’m not going. Tell him I’m not here.”

“I don’t think he’d believe me,” Gwyn said, grinning.

“And why is that?”

“Because,” said Emerie Carynth, appearing suddenly beside Gwyn and wearing a matching smile on her face, “I told him you’d still be here.”

Nesta glared at her.

“Not on purpose, I swear,” Emerie quickly amended. “But don’t think I missed that you have a copy of Dell’s new romance.” Nesta glanced down at the book she still held open in her hands, her attention briefly flicking back to the dramatic confessional love letter left she had been in the middle of reading. “We saw you try to hide it in the dining room when it came in the post. I bet Gwyn you wouldn’t be able to wait until you got home to start it.”

Returning her focus to her traitorous fellow nurse, Nesta frowned. “That doesn’t explain how he knows I’m still here.”

“He may have overheard me celebrating my victory a few minutes ago.” She smirked. “Gwyn has to take my shifts with Merrill for the next week.”

Nesta grimaced. The older nurse was brutal to work with, especially if she thought the VAD nurses like Gwyn, Emerie, and Nesta were shirking their responsibilities. She accommodating enough for the soldiers, but all the nurses knew to steer clear of her wrath whenever possible.

Gwyn nodded at Nesta’s expression. “And he was my next patient when Emerie found me.”

“And what? He forced you to come back here and bother me?”

“He asked nicely.”

“Weak, Gwyneth Berdara. Weak.” Nesta knew her fellow nurse had a soft spot for soldiers like him who bore their injuries with grace and good humor, willing to crack a joke or, if they were not too injured, gambol about the grounds during recreation hours. Especially if those soldiers were tall and dark-haired and unreasonably muscled.

Gwyn shrugged unapologetically. “Like he doesn’t make you flustered, Nesta.”

“He does not,” Nesta bit out. Exasperated, absolutely. Incensed, occasionally. Even, in rare moments, begrudgingly amused. But certainly not flustered.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of if you are,” Emerie said, grinning with a faux innocence that Nesta didn’t believe for a moment. “He’s not even my type,” she smirked. “But I have eyes.”

“I hate you.”

“As much as you hate him?”

“More.”

Gwyn hummed. “Lucky Emerie.”

Nesta raised an eyebrow in question.

“Oh, nothing. I’ve just never known anyone whose hate looked so much like desire before.”

Emerie winked salaciously at Nesta, who only rolled her eyes at her friends’ antics. “I’m still not going.”

“Sure you’re not, Nurse Nes.”

“Emerie, I swear—”

“He expected you’d say that.” Gwyn smiled, interrupting them. “And he told me to tell you that if you didn’t come help him, he’d have to cope with the pain through song.”

“Arse.” She had heard him singing with the men before—loud, raucous marching songs that seemed to be dictated primarily by enthusiasm rather than any actual musical talent. “So he intends to wake the whole wing if I don’t go? That’s asking nicely, Gwyn?”

Gwyn shrugged. “I’m sure Clotho and Merrill wouldn’t blame you for it.”

But they would, Nesta knew. When she paused her studies at Somerville to join the VAD and the military hospital that sprang up in what had once been her college, she and her fellow volunteers were told to make the patients in their care as happy as possible, no matter what. They were not to do anything that would cause a scandal, of course, but barring that, any desire was considered reasonable—extra food after mealtimes, a new pillow every hour, even time with a preferred nurse if requested. After all, they were exactly what the first letter of their organization’s acronym indicated: voluntary. They had no previous training, no credentials or certificates like those possessed by the professional nurses who oversaw them. What did they know?

Quite a bit, and often more than the so-called ‘professionals’. Certainly more than they did a year and a half ago when they first entered the service. Nesta may have been raised in a manor house, bred for marriage and comfort after the culmination of her studies, but the war had changed all of that, had changed her. She was no longer a stranger to fluids and grotesque injuries, to bodies and hard, messy work. Gwyn and Emerie were the same.

But none of that mattered, not really, to the more senior nurses, except for the fact that it made their jobs marginally easier. The VAD women were still expected to appease and please. So they did.

Nesta sighed, looking forlornly at the book she wouldn’t get to pick up again for at least another day.

“I’ll tell him to expect you in ten minutes, then?” Gwyn asked, reading her decision on her face.

“Yes, alright,” Nesta grumbled, standing and stretching for the first time in—she glanced again at the clock—three hours. She hoped that whatever nonsense she was about to face would resolve itself quickly enough that she could get home and sleep, although, she thought, as she began to gather her things, she wouldn’t count on it.

“Hope Dell’s book was worth it!” Emerie called as she moved out of the doorway and back into the darkened ward.

“I’m sure it was,” Gwyn said to Nesta, following Emerie out. “Piers’ letter?” She asked knowingly.

“Piers’ letter.” Nesta mimed fanning herself, and Gwyn laughed as she left Nesta to gather her things.

Grumbling about needing to find new friends, Nesta slowly made her way into what had once been the West dining room. With thin walls, cramped quarters, and a confusing odor of long-forgotten roast dinners mingled with astringent antiseptics, it was ill-suited to its current purpose as a hospital ward.

Almost as ill-suited, Nesta mused to herself as she wended her way through the beds of sleeping men, as she was to the nursing profession. Her friends seemed to take to the profession naturally: Gwyn had quickly amassed a staggering knowledge of illness and injuries and could diagnose patients quicker than most of the physicians; Emerie demonstrated a singular talent for using the standard physician-prescribed therapies in innovative ways to help the soldiers progress more quickly along their healing journey.

Nesta had no such mastery. She wasn’t incompetent at any task, and was quite good at many of them, but she did not have any particular specialty. Nor did she excel at the ‘appease and please’ aspect of her role. She had little patience for the soldiers’ petty complaints, their bored antics, their casual flirting. She did her job, cared for her patients professionally and efficiently, shutting down their attempts for favors and conversation and flirtation, and went home to her books at the end of the day. It was how she liked it. And it meant that, over time, few soldiers particularly liked her.

All except one.

At the sound of her approaching footsteps, Nesta saw him turn his head, a satisfied smile already stretching across his face that, had he been anyone else, would have caused Nesta’s heart to start racing.

As a man, Lieutenant Cassian Davies was magnetic. Handsome in a rugged kind of way, he was imposingly tall and broad with a body that, even injured as it was, spoke of lethal grace and destructive power. His face bore the proof of this: small scars cut across his eyebrows and lips, and his nose had clearly been broken and reset at least once. His hazel eyes often shone with a mirth that drew soldiers and nurses alike to his bedside, but there was an edge to them as well—something surprisingly hard and deceptively calculating. Like all of the men convalescing at their hospital, Lieutenant Davies had seen tremendous bloodshed, but he alone seemed to rise above it, to possess some inherent mastery over it. He was dangerous and desirable in equal measure, and though Nesta refused to join in with the other nurses when they gushed about him in the privacy of their dormitory, she couldn’t deny his appeal.

As a patient though? He was everything she loathed: loud, flirtatious, stubborn, and shamelessly relentless in his attempts to irritate her.

“Nurse Nes!”

“Threatening to wake the ward is a new low, even for you, Lieutenant Davies. And don’t call me that.” Nesta hissed, approaching his bedside and glaring down at him.

“Sweetheart—” Lieutenant Davies raised his good arm in an attempt to pacify her, but Nesta interrupted him.

“Wrong again, Lieutenant.”

He rolled his eyes. “Sorry, Nurse Archeron,” he apologized with mock contrition, affecting the tone of an impudent schoolboy brought before his headmaster. “I’m so glad you could make it. I was just about to treat the lads to a rendition of ‘Pack Up Your Troubles.’”

Nesta didn’t dignify that with a response, choosing instead to look over his chart to guess at what it was he might need. The sooner she could figure it out, the sooner she could leave Lieutenant Davies and his foolishness behind. She could make it through this without succumbing to his antics. She could be professional. She could.

Even with her eyes focused on his chart, however, she felt the weight of his gaze on her, deciding how best to challenge her attempt at professionalism.

And then he found it: “I still could sing, you know. You might benefit from hearing the chorus.”

She whipped her head up and saw his eyes spark with pleasure at having successfully baited her, but she was too irritated to care. “‘Smile, smile, smile?’” Nesta asked, biting out the lyrics.

“You already know the words! You’ll be a natural in no time.”

“Please.” She resisted the urge to argue further, forcing herself to direct her attention back to the chart in her hands. Could he want another pillow? Or more food? Was he due for—

“So, what do you say, Nes?” Lieutenant Davies asked, interrupting her train of thought. “Are you going to smile, smile, smile?” He grinned as he softly sang the melody.

“Your singing is atrocious.”

He scoffed. “It’s excellent. Now, my dancing—.”

“I can only imagine that it’s even worse, Lieutenant Davies,” she interrupted.

“Once I get back up on my feet again I promise to show you just how wrong you are. Don’t think I didn’t notice you considering a smile.”

“Enough.” This had to end. Nesta could feel the weight of her hair heavy on her head after having it tied up in her standard braided coronet all day, and that, coupled with Lieutenant Davies’ teasing, was threatening to give her a headache. “What do you want?”

“Nesta Archeron,” he admonished, and Nesta chose to ignore the way her body shivered at the sound of her full name on his lips. “We have got to work on your bedside manner.”

She huffed. “If you find it so appalling, there are at least a dozen other nurses who would be more than happy to assist you.”

“I told Gwynnie. None of them have your magic touch.”

“I’m leaving.”

“Nes—”

“Wake the whole ward for all I care.” She dropped his chart with a clatter and turned on her heel, ready to storm out

There was a pause, and then, before she could take a step, Lieutenant Davies called out softly, “My shoulder is a little sore.”

Nesta imagined it was. The report of his injury at the Somme had been a gruesome note in what was and continued to be the bloodiest battle of the war thus far, and one that just kept going, if the steady stream of new patients into the hospital was anything to be believed. A few days into the battle, Lieutenant Davies had been wounded by shell fragments that embedded themselves into his chest and shoulder, some dangerously close to his lungs. He bore the injury well, but from the lines etched on his face and the tension in his jaw, she could tell it ached more than he let on. He would be bedridden for at least another two weeks before physical therapy could begin.

“And you couldn’t ask Nurse Berdara for another dose of morphine?”

“You make me feel like I’ve earned it, sweetheart.”

She snorted at that. “Fine.” She stooped to gather the supplies she would need from a low shelf on the cart at the foot of his bed, then turned to pull on gloves and prepare the needle for the injection. “But only because you were due for one anyway.”

“Whatever you say, Nurse Archeron. I know you like me.” As she administered the drug, he began humming quietly, his body slowly loosening as it worked its way through his system.

“Done. Goodnight, Lieutenant Davies.”

“No goodnight kiss?” He murmured the question as his eyes shuttered closed, relentlessly flirtatious to the last.

Nesta watched the morphine lull Lieutenant Davies into a deep sleep. “For you? I think not.”

She turned and made her way quietly out of the ward, thinking of her bed and her book. And if her thoughts drifted back to a certain sleeping soldier and she smiled slightly? Well, there was no one awake to notice.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

August 1916

“How are you feeling, Lieutenant Davies?”

Cassian looked up from the casualty sheets he had been apprehensively scanning for his brothers’ names to find Sr. Merrill, one of the older nurses who oversaw the hospital, standing at the foot of his bed.

His arm fucking ached—not that he would say that to a nun. He hadn’t lost all his manners in the trenches.

Just most of them. And especially when faced with the pretty nurse who made him feel more than a little stupid with her honey-brown hair and sharp tongue. But Nesta Archeron was nowhere in sight, nor had she been for several days—attempting to avoid him, most likely.

So he only answered, “Still a little sore, m’am. But better than yesterday.”

Sr. Merrill smiled at that. “Well, I’m glad to hear you’re in good spirits. You’re to start physical therapy today.”

Cassian could have wept with joy. Although the injury had been localized to his upper body, the damage had been severe enough that the doctors had insisted that he remain bedridden and stuck indoors for at least a month. And he had, albeit reluctantly. For someone used to near-constant activity, whose men called him ‘the General’ for the drills he would put them (and himself) through between battles, a month of idleness was akin to torture. There were only so many card games a man could play or books he could read, only so many soldiers and nurses he could talk to, and (in his bleaker moments) only so many times he could catalog in minute detail the unidentifiable stains that graced the walls of the ward. Restless and bored, Cassian was more than ready to get back on his feet, to breathe fresh air and feel the sun on his face again. “When do I start?”

“Tomorrow. I have you scheduled with Nurse Carynth. She’s one of our best for physical therapy.”

Cassian knew her. Strikingly pretty and statuesque, she could out-swear most of the men and had earned her reputation as an excellent physical therapist through a combination of what appeared to be genuine brilliance and a singular ability to browbeat and cajole her patients into pushing themselves. He had seen her work with a few of the other men from his company, and knew that if anyone else in the hospital deserved the title of ‘the General,’ it would be her.

But he wondered—“I’ve heard she’s effective, yes, but,” He paused, looking for the right words, although he knew that Sr. Merrill and the other nurses were inclined to humor their patients’ requests whenever possible. “I was wondering if I could work with someone else.”

“Oh?” She looked puzzled, but pulled out a pen to note the change. “Do you have a specific nurse in mind?”

Cassian smiled.

He was still smiling as he sat in Sr. Merrill’s office the following day listening to an incensed Nesta Archeron argue with her supervisor.

“No.” She said, her blue-gray eyes flashing flintily as she crossed her arms. “I’m not working with him.”

Sr. Merrill raised an eyebrow. “And why not? Do you have an objection to working with Lieutenant Davies?”

“Yes.”

When Nesta didn’t elaborate, Sr. Merrill gestured for her to continue. “Go on.”

Nesta tilted her head, and Cassian could tell she was calculating her response. “It’s not personal,” she began.

Cassian snorted. He knew that it absolutely was. Nesta Archeron was the one nurse at Somerville who couldn’t stand him. From the look on Sr. Merrill’s face, the older nurse knew that as well, although she did an admirable job trying to hide it.

“It’s not.” Nesta turned to face him for the first time since they entered the office a few minutes ago. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed. He could feel the anger radiating off of her, burning cold and sharp and exhilarating. It had been over a month since Cassian had seen any combat, but watching her like this scratched the same itch, and he knew that he would do any number of unspeakable things to keep stoking that fire.

He raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Then what might be the issue, Nurse Archeron?”

She glared at his use of her correct title for once, knowing he only did it to irritate her in front of her supervisor, then turned back to face Sr. Merrill with a barely audible huff.

“My reasons are professional. I am not a particularly skilled physical therapist, and the severity of Lieutenant Davies’ injuries suggests that he’ll need special attention. He should be working with Nurse Carynth or Nurse Madja.”

Sr. Merrill frowned at that. “You’ll be following a plan of care left by one of the doctors, so there’s no need for you to do anything terribly innovative. That’s not your role here.”

“I know you’ll take good care of me, Nurse Archeron,” Cassian added, doing his best to look sincere. And he was, mostly. Nesta may not have been the warmest nurse at Somerville, but she was a damn good one. Not that he’d ever tell her that.

She didn’t respond to his comment, but Cassian was familiar enough with her expressions after a month of making a study of her to know she wanted to roll her eyes, and he couldn’t help the grin that began to break over his face.

“But I know how you VAD girls are,” Sr. Merrill interrupted, forestalling any further argument between them with a dismissive wave of her hand. Her tone dripped with derision, and Cassian’s grin faded as he saw Nesta tense, her spine straightening.“If you’re truly unwilling, I’m sure Lieutenant Davies will accept another nurse for his therapy.” She paused. “But I will be making a note in your file, Nurse Archeron.”

Nesta’s lips tightened. Cassian grimaced slightly as he observed her wage a silent war with herself, feeling increasingly ill-at-ease with his provocation of this element of the hospital’s hierarchical drama.

“Well, Nurse Archeron?” Sr. Merrill asked.

Cassian watched Nesta collect herself. The changes were subtle–her spine remained straight, unbowed by the weight of the threat, but he saw the way she banked the fire burning in her eyes until all that seemed to remain was a cool, professional detachment. He hated it.

But he knew her answer.

“I’ll do it.”

“Excellent.” Sr. Merrill handed Nesta a folder that Cassian presumed was his plan of care. “Thank you for wasting everyone’s time.”

Nesta took the folder and stood abruptly, stalking out of the room.

“Lieutenant Davies,” Sr. Merrill addressed him, drawing his attention away from Nesta’s retreating form. “I understand if you’d like to switch nurses after that … display.” She looked distastefully toward the door. “I have always believed that you boys deserve better than being subjected to the whims of spoiled ladies unused to hard work.”

Cassian stood stiffly, his injured arm aching from tension he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and frowned down at Sr. Merrill. “I meant what I said. I trust Nurse Archeron to take care of me.” His tone was sharp, defensive.

Sr. Merrill sniffed. “Of course. See that I don’t hear any complaints from your commander if you remain on the injury register longer than you ought.”

“You won’t. M’am.” With a sharp nod of his head, Cassian turned to follow after Nesta, moving a damn sight slower than he would have preferred. His arm throbbed and his legs felt heavy and stiff, aggravatingly fatigued already.

Nesta had stopped by the entrance to the ward, presumably to wait for him, her gaze focused off into the distance rather than watching his progress.

Cassian didn’t rush—wouldn’t have, even if he could have moved more quickly—taking the time instead to study her. She still wore the detached professionalism she had donned during the meeting, but her eyes were tired, wearied after the confrontation with Merrill. He wanted the fire back.

And he knew how to get it. Quashing his still-lingering guilt, he asked, “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

She startled slightly, coming out of whatever reverie she had been caught in, and scowled up at him as he drew abreast of her. “I’m not in the mood for this right now.”

He smiled to hear a hint of spirit back in her voice. “I’ll take you in whatever mood I can get, Nes.”

She hummed, her gaze assessing and the set of her mouth unimpressed. “Let’s get this over with, then.”

With that, she pulled open the door to the ward and began walking deeper into the room, not stopping to see if Cassian was following after her.

He trailed along behind, noting that she passed the door that led outside onto the lawn where most of the other officers had been led by their respective nurses for therapy or recreation. The late summer day was inviting, after all—bright and sunny and warm after a span of rainy weeks.

Because of this, the ward was nearly empty, so Cassian called out to her, “I didn’t mean to cause any problems, you know.”

Her gait didn’t change, but he saw the tilt of her head as she considered his words. “That’s not an apology.”

“You’re right,” he conceded. “I didn’t know about Merrill. I’m sorry for having involved her. But,” he smiled, “I’m not sorry you’re assigned to me.”

“We’ll see,” she said, finally stopping and turning around to face him.

Nesta had led them to a room at the back of the ward. It was small and slightly dingy; he guessed that it had once been some kind of larder for the college before the war.

Cassian looked inside and then back at her, a question in his eyes.

She raised an eyebrow, gesturing for him to go inside. “After you.”

“I thought officers got to go outside for their therapies.” He looked back longingly toward the door to the lawn, the late summer morning streaming through the window panes nearly irresistible after a month indoors.

“Not the ones assigned to me. Everything we need is right here in this room,” she said. She wasn’t quite smiling, but he could see a hint of malicious pleasure gleaming at the corners of her eyes.

Cassian forced himself to smile, hoping that his disappointment wasn’t evident. Well played, Sweetheart. He turned to the only weapon he had remaining because he damn sure wasn’t about to give her this victory easily. “It certainly is, sweetheart. And we’ll get to be so close,” he all but purred, trying to ruffle her feathers.

But she only rolled her eyes and began setting up the space according to whatever was detailed on his chart, dragging a chair and a few small weights to the center of the room.

He turned to cast a final glance back, wondering what he could do to change her mind. Surely she didn’t want to spend the day cooped up inside too. What would she want? Would she want him to beg for it? Would he?

He would. For her. And for the outdoors.

But then the sound of a throat clearing delicately brought him back to the cell of a larder, and he returned his attention to Nesta. Her eyes were on him, head tilted to the side like a predator studying its prey.

“Positive you don’t want to work with Nurse Carynth now?”

Cassian looked her over, his gaze catching on the blue-gray eyes that dared him to call her bluff, and he smiled, a real one this time. He would play her game. For now. “Positive. Do your worst, Nurse Nes.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few notes on the historical elements of this chapter:

— The title of this fic comes from Robert Graves’ poem “Intercession in Late October.”

— The quote that opens this chapter is from Ethel M. Dell’s Bars of Iron, which was one of the best-selling books of 1916. Dell wrote hugely popular romances and was successful enough to support her family on the proceeds of her writing alone, although her work was often disparaged by critics and criticized for being too sexual.

— Cassian is loosely based on Robert Graves, a captain in the 3rd Battalion of the Royal Welch Fusiliers, a poet, and the author of Goodbye to All That, a 1929 memoir about his experiences in WWI. Nesta is loosely based on Vera Brittain, a VAD nurse and author of Testament of Youth, a 1933 memoir about her experiences as a nurse and her postwar turn toward pacifism.

— Both Robert Graves and Vera Britten were connected to Somerville College, although they were not there at the same time. Somerville was founded as a women’s college in 1879; it was requisitioned by the War Office to serve as a hospital during WWI. Vera Brittain had been reading English Literature when the war broke out, and she took a leave of absence to serve in the VAD, returning to complete her studies in History in 1919. Robert Graves, after being injured in July during the Battle of the Somme (July 1, 1916—November 18, 1916) was sent to Somerville to recover, and while there, had a brief romance with one of the nurses.

— The tensions between the VAD (Voluntary Aid Detachment) and professional nurses was a real concern during WWI, although it has been dramatized here. Most of the volunteers were middle and upper class women and lacked both the skills of professional nurses and (for some) the propensity for hard labor and discipline. These tensions gradually dissipated as the war went on.

— “Pack Up Your Troubles in Your Old Kit-Bag, and Smile, Smile, Smile” was a popular WWI marching song, first published in 1915. The words were written by George Henry Powell and were set to music by his brother, Felix.

— The notice “Officers are requested not to throw custard at the walls” was real; it was found in Maitland Hall after Somerville was converted back into a college.

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #acotargiftexchange2023 #acotar gift exchange 2023 #nesta archeron #cassian #historical au #wwi au

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aclowntiny · 9 months

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Hii! First of all, congrats con 600 followers, you deserve that and so many more, I'm literally in love with your work :) I was wondering if I could request a San scenario with the following prompts (from the lists you reblogged):

“Urgh, why do you always insist on doing nice things for me?” “Because I enjoy it.”

“Can’t you just accept when people do nice things for you?” “No, I can’t.”

“The only reason why I’m letting you get away with shit like this is because I like you, you dense fucking cabbage.”

I was thinking kind of best friend au, but they both have feelings for eachother, BUT, they're both in denial about it. You can decide how the rest goes, thank you so muh in advance!! ~

yELLS thanks sweetheart 🥲 in love with my work whAT 🥹💕 thank you for being here with me! I love this request so here is your SAN-ario 😄 ps: look up the definition of mon petit chou I dare you

Mon Petit Chou- Best Friend!San x Gender Neutral!Reader

Word Count: 2282 | Best Friends to Lovers | Warnings: language, mention of drinking but no actual drinking lol, slightly suggestive?

You weren’t sure when the fuck this all started, just that you hated it with the burning passion of a thousand suns.

Your life had been peaceful, safe, mundane even, and so help you if you’d ever complained about it you were going to invent time travel just to go back and smack yourself one in the face for it.

Somehow, against all common sense, bro or whatever codes, and hope of joy you’d developed feelings for your best friend. The two of you had known each other for the past four years, meeting in your final year of high school at the dance of all places. Neither of you dated then, so you were there in a state others perceived as ‘alone’, each of you seeing it as with friends, with the while school, and leaping into the fray of energetic dancing. And that was how you ended up doing the cupid shuffle together and, for some reason, the old YMCA routine. You’d shook and jumped to Taylor Swift’s Shake it Off and the legendary Amor Fati by Kim Yeonja, all the simultaneously memed and beloved songs you could dream of. Some people assumed you were a couple and you two burst out laughing as you told them you’d literally just met. Like, you exchanged names after they said that.

San was easy to talk to, especially after seeing each other in sweaty teenage abandon first. He was no pressure, no butterflies- until now, for some forsaken reason, when your heart had decided to abandon all reason and beat like a mother when San pulled you into a hug or smiled that dimpled smile you’d looked at countless times- why was it special now?

Sure, you’d always acknowledged he was good-looking, but in the way people talked about celebrities outside their preferred gender- just acknowledgement, nothing deeper. But suddenly you found your brain rushing out from under you like a yanked rug, wondering what his lips would feel like against yours.

And dammit, you were dead-set on never finding out.

Making a move at that point would be platonic suicide, torpedoing the best friendship you’d ever had, and frankly you’d lost too many with age, time, distance, drama to do it again. And not with San. Even if it was like life’s Master Ball and you only got one forever friendship, it was going to be San. You’d already aimed and pitched, and no petty, new, frustrating as all get-out feelings were going to knock that off course.

If only San got the memo too.

Maybe it was simply a matter of increased awareness thanks to your nascent problem, but it was like he’d grabbed the knob full force and dialed all the charm and sweetness to eleven, sensing your pulse skyrocketing for a thousand tiny reasons you wanted to shoot down like clay pigeons.

It was chilly the other afternoon? Here, take his jacket. You forgot your sunglasses? Did you want his? What ring size were you? Here, compare to his- go on, just see if it fits. And by jove, you will never carry a single remotely heavy object again if Choi San can help it.

“Why do you always insist on doing nice things for me?” You groaned, head rolling to fix your best friend with a look.

“Because I enjoy it,” he replied simply, contentedly, the most plaintive of smiles on his face as he tilted his own head down for a brief respite on your shoulder.

Curse him and his adorable love of affection. “Well, ah, what can I do for you?” You spluttered, indignant at no one but yourself.

“It doesn’t have to be a transaction. I know you’ve had people around you make it seem like it is, but you don’t have to repay me. I know you’d help me if I needed it, too.”

Biting back a response about you surprisingly not actually needing him to carry your shopping bags, you just sighed and thanked him, shuffling along the mall tile with slightly less relish. He’d always been like this- selfless, kind, loving, and you’d always loved those things about him.

So when he sat you down at the food court, gingerly resting your bags on the shiny public-eatery metal seat adjacent to yours as he scooted yours back, what else could you do but smile and thank him? San asked you what you wanted for lunch, and you told him you didn't mind, to which he shot back that he didn't either. Then you told him to pick, and he told you to pick, and you both bickered playfully back and forth until you got tacos.

Ugh, just like an old married couple.

"Can't you just accept when people do nice things for you?"

"No," you crossed your arms in mostly-mock-obstinance, "no, I cannot."

"I swear, you'd make me pay you back if I bought you a candy bar," San rolled his eyes playfully, fixing you with a fond smile.

Because if you're always paying for me when we go out, you wanted to say, I can pretend it's a date. I can get it in my fat fucking head what it would be like to have you as my boyfriend and never get it back out.

"Money is designed to be exchanged for goods and services," you actually said.

"This isn't a service," he replied, putting an arm you didn't care was sticky with sweat around your shoulders, extending the water bottle toward your hand, "it's me caring about you."

Hot from exertion as you were, you instantly melted under the warmth of his half-embrace, accepting the water bottle. "And you know I appreciate it. I'm just not used to getting cared for."

"Then I'm not doing my job!" Your best friend exclaimed, eyes glinting. "I'm always going to be here to take care of you, so get used to it!"

"I think I started figuring that out when you brought three different blankets and a plushie the first time I watched a movie with you," you told him with a teasing smile.

San's smile fell almost into introspection, getting a bit more serious, which you didn't expect. "You joke, but I mean it, (y/n)."

Almost against your will, your head nodded solemnly, though your own smile couldn't fade, in fact it widened dumbly as a side effect of your hammering heart. "I hope so."

And then, as if he hadn't said something so infuriatingly sweet, San patted your shoulder, stood up from his squatted position, and took your water-bottle-free hand in his, pulling you up, too. You could have sworn he gave your hand a squeeze, but it was so brief, maybe you imagined it.

"Alright, so are we dancing or what?"

Sometimes you wished you guys drank more. That you could hit the edge of blackout and do something you'd barely remember, nor regret, and butt so hard against the line it finally broke and reformed in less questionable territory. That some alien substance in your veins could be blamed for anything dubbed unthinkable, and you'd have already rehearsed any laughter necessary if San wanted to make middle-school ew, gross jokes as if your lips transmitted cooties.

But San was a lightweight, and neither of you enjoyed that scene. The two of you were more the types to get coffee twice in a ay and laugh too hard at stupid things like the word guava on a caffeine buzz.

"We're fun enough even without alcohol," San often joked to you.

So the drama-flick drunk confession, intoxicated makeout, was out. Best not to duplicitously offer a drink in exchange for-

"(y/n)? I think it's all done," San's voice cut through your mental spiral.

You almost had to shake your head out of it, vision having faded to a zoned-out blur, obscuring even the shape of his wide, tank-topped shoulders as he had bent over your car.

Now he was at your side, wiping his hands on a cloth like some sort of professional mechanic, not just your best friend who insisted you didn't need to pay someone like that just for an oil filter and a change. A change which had cost him the dove grey of his garment, something you could hardly help asking why he'd wear such a light color of for that.

"San, your top, it's all stained!"

As he tossed the rag aside, he tilted his head down, bobbing it in recognition of the black smudge marks. "Well, at least it wasn't expensive."

"I think I know how to get it out if you want. You could always go get a new-"

Before you could even finish your sentence, he was stripping, yanking the top off from the bottom hem and leaning against the knob of your garage door. Despite the clear invitation to go inside and, you know, do exactly what you just said you were going to do, surprised crossed your (very warm) face, effectively sealing you to the concrete floor. The only process your brain could perform in that moment was trying to figure out if you had the world's best or worst luck.

"Oh, uh-" Trying not to stare, your eyes very pointedly searched San's face.

Your best friend frowned slightly, expression halfway to the innocence you were used to, and somehow that almost made it worse. "What?"

"Just," you hesitated as you accepted his now inside-out tank top, skin-warmed fabric heating your hands, too, which you glanced down at beneath San's intent gaze, "didn't expect you to be this comfortable is all."

San crossed his arms, face falling first in shock, then shaping up into almost dark amusement as a different, more incredulous smile rose to his sharp features. "Are you kidding me?"

Oh, no. You made it weird. This was it. Or maybe he just thought you were doubting his friendship, which he shouldn't. Everyone knew unironically doing the YMCA bonded people for life. Or sharing blankets. Or...ah, crap. Not now. "No, it's great, I'm really glad you trust me. I trust you, too, you know. Maybe I don't show that enough, but that's why you know so much about me, and I really appreciate you-" Your rant suddenly fell short as your eyes betrayed you, drifting down slightly and absolutely ramming your train of thought into a wreck. "You know, always being there for me and being so thoughtful and pretty much being my favorite person ever-"

“The only reason why I’m letting you get away with shit like this, with seeing me like this," he motioned over his, well, quite fit torso, "is because I like you, you dense fucking cabbage.” The moment the words left San, his face fell into his hand, out of frustration or embarrassment it was hard to say. Probably more the latter, knowing how sweet your best friend was. He didn't use strong language...well, almost ever.

Train wreck take two. Not a single word rose to your mind, only sensations, for a solid three seconds, during which all you could do was stand there wide-eyed, venture a step towards San, two steps. Finally you spoke, feeling like an idiotic teen sitcom character as your dumb response left your lips. "You like me?"

"Yes," San sighed, posture deflating a bit against the doorframe, "I'm sorry. Sorry for the language, and just...I hadn't really planned on how I was going to say it, but it definitely wasn't like that. You deserve way better than that. I just... sometimes I feel like you like me back, but then I wonder if you're pushing me away. And you have every right to do that, especially if I've messed up our friendship, I can just-"

You cut him off, harnessing the motion of his lips for greater purpose against yours. San responded instantly to the kiss, hands cupping your face and pulling it deeper into his like you were air and he'd spent his whole life underwater. Your arms wrapped around those broad, bare shoulders, hands resting at the back of his neck.

"Wait, you like me?" Ok, you felt better about how dumb you seemed, as those were San's first words out of the kiss.

"Yes, you, what was it? Ah, yes. 'Dense fucking cabbage'," you quoted back at him with a merciless grin, arms tightening their grip ever so slightly.

"Oh, no," he winced, "that's going to stick forever, isn't it?"

"Yep," you breathed, leaning in for another kiss, the feeling of San's lips a hundred percent better than you could ever have imagined, so much warmer and realer and this time sweeter, sliding against yours like he was coaxing it out of you.

This time, upon pulling away you gave the side of his face a light, playful slap, enjoying the touch of his sculpted features against your palm.

"You're stuck with me now, mon petit chou."

San shook his head at the return of your devious grin, and you reveled in the blend of utter bliss and what did I get myself into painting his face as his hands snaked around your waist, twirling you in a little impromptu dance and dipping you down.

He smiled lovingly this time, sending your beating heart melting and surprise turning to joy across your own face. "As long as you keep being you and you'll let me do nice things for you now- no, scratch that, spoil you."

Keep being you. Holy shit, what a balm for the soul.

Cocking a brow, you shot back, "You spoil me and I embarrass you? Hardly sounds fair."

"All's fair in love and war," San responded, eyelashes fluttering.

You most definitely forgot to wash his top after that.

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #san #san x reader #san x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #best friends to lovers #fluff #humor #sort of #requested #everywhereandnowhere02

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charliedawn · 2 years

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Could you do one where the reader is lucifer daughter and in a relationship with Morpheus/dream

You were Lucifer's pride and joy. The only bright light in the darkness of hell. Their only heir and they prided themselves on being a caring parent.

They were devoted and selfless when it came to you, which meant they would go to unspeakable length to protect you.

They would destroy any of your enemies, and whoever dared break your heart would be spending the rest of their afterlife in the deepest and darkest hole in hell they could find.

They had already dealt with a lot of demons who hadn't understood that and were ready to die for you if circumstances called for it.

When you had announced to them that you had now a boyfriend, they took it lightly.

They thought it would be like any other problem and you would eventually come to them to get rid of the parasite..

So, they smiled and sounded as excited as you at the news of their meeting with that mysterious boyfriend of yours.

"I am more than excited to meet the lucky man/woman who succeeded in earning their way into your heart..If you like them, I am sure to do too.."

How they would come to regret bitterly those words..

They hadn't expected to see Dream of the Endless come in—out of all the creatures you could have laid your eyes upon.

They were found speechless for a moment, a rare sight in hell as not a lot of things could shook the ruler of hell.

"Pleasure to see you again, lord Lucifer."

His voice was the same soft rasp as when they had last met and Lucifer found it very difficult to restrain their anger and wipe that self-sufficient smile off his face that they knew he was holding back.

Revenge was terribly sweet for Morpheus. He could see the raging storm in Lucifer's eyes and felt immense satisfaction..Who knew he would fall in love with the daughter of the one and only Lucifer ?

Two birds with one stone, so to speak..

At the sight of your hand in his, Lucifer's eye twitched.

They immediately placed their hand on the handle of their sword, ready to strike, but one warning look from you made them reconsider.

"Parent..Meet my boyfriend. Dream of the Endless.", you announced and before Lucifer could answer, Morpheus leaned forward towards you to whisper.

"We've already met, my love..But, thank you for the introduction."

He kissed your cheek and if looks could kill, Morpheus would be a pile of ashes on the floor..

Lucifer bid their anger and forced themselves to smile when you both approached and Morpheus extended his hand towards them.

"For Y/N, I am ready to let go of the past. How about you, Morningstar ?"

Lucifer wanted to scoff. Morpheus ? Not holding a grudge ? Right..There was no way in..Well..Here.

But, you were there.

You were watching them intently and Lucifer knew better than to give in into Morpheus' obvious trap.

They wouldn't let him be the reason for your hatred.

They took his hand and shook it curtly with a false smile that took a colossal effort not to turn into a cruel sneer.

"Of course, Dream. All in the past.."

You seemed satisfied enough by their answer and from the corner of you eye, spotted you old friend Mazikeen.

You smiled and went to talk to her, eager to catch up on what you had missed during your absence from hell and leaving them both to get to know each other better.

However, the moment you were far enough, the masks fell and all politeness left their faces as Lucifer spat.

"You dare enter here and pretend to be honorable, when you trapped my daughter in your webs of lies with disrespectful impunity..My daughter is no toy or trifle to use in that rivalry game of ours. Leave her alone, or you will have to face the consequences.", they warned and their eyes spoke mountains of what those painful consequences might be.

But, Morpheus didn't flinch at the clear threat and only spoke up to respond truthfully.

"I did not choose your daughter on purpose, Morningstar. She chose me. I fell in love with her long before I was even aware of her relation to you. And no amount of loathing or threats will erase the way I feel about her."

Lucifer frowned—unable to tell if Dream was telling the truth or not.

They were about to answer when they saw you coming back to them and put a smile back on their face, hiding the venom in their words from you.

"One day, Morpheus..She will grow bored of you. And then, I will be ready. Mark my words. My hand won't shake when the time comes to detach your head from your body.."

They tightened their hold on his hand just a little and Dream stared right back at them with a small challenging smirk.

"We shall see who she gets bored of first, Light-bringer.."

And that was the only time Morpheus agreed to come willingly to hell with you.

They may tolerate each other in your presence, but do not get fooled.

They are both very possessive and unforgiving.

It would take time for the both of them to accept the fact that they were now 'family'.

You *smile at Morpheus when you are back in his realm* : "Well..I think that went well. I'm pretty sure they like you."

Morpheus *squints his eyes suspiciously at your oblivious face and wide cheerful grin* : "You heard every word, didn't you ?"

You *nod with a sly smile* : "Every. Single. Word."

#Lucifer x daughter!reader #morpheus x reader #fandoms #imagine #fanfic #sandman series

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springdandelixn · 1 year

Text

Dancing in the Kitchen

Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Summary: You accidentally reveal your feelings to Steve through a song.

Warnings: nothing really—all fluff

A/N: This idea has been brewing in my head when I first heard this song (you’ll find it below) and I just had to write it. Unbeta so may be a bit sloppy but I hope it’s a goodie.

I no longer hold a tag list but if you wish to be updated with new fics I release, follow my archives blog, @springdandelixn-archives and turn on the notifications.

Drabble as this may be, your feedback would mean so much to me. Reblogs would be great too for it will help my story flourish. And as always, I hope you enjoy! 💙

It was a tough mission and he’s glad he’s home.

The halls of the compound were dark as Steve drags himself through the halls, helmet in his hand and shoulders slumping in exhaustion. Bucky and Sam had already called it a night after stepping out of the jet, stalking to their quarters, and leaving Steve to wander.

It was his usual routine, walking around to clear his head despite how late it would be. A peace he’s found himself indulging in just to leave the burden of the mission behind. He was happy though for the mission was indeed a success—more Hydra soldiers caught and thrown behind bars but still, the fatigue overpowered the joy.

It was silent, just how he liked it, as he made his way to the common room. But the singular light shining in the kitchen and the soft hum of someone singing takes his attention and he stalks towards the room even further.

And that’s when he sees you.

Opening and closing cabinets and taking out a bowl before shoving what he spies is a bag of popcorn into the microwave. You don’t seem to notice him so he takes his time in the shadows, a smile on his lips as he admires the carefree aura that you exude.

He’s not told anyone but Bucky of his feelings for you. How he was immediately smitten when Tony first introduced you as Maria’s replacement in overseeing their activities. He was subtle with his attraction, simply being the gentleman that everyone knew him to be. But as each day that’s turned into months and eventually a year, his infatuation grew even further that he dare even say that he’s come to love you.

It wasn’t simply because you were beautiful—but you were just as beautiful on the inside. Being more caring than authoritative to the team. Understanding when it came to his best friend and not being forceful when it came to taxing missions. The team thought you to be soft at first, a comment he, Bucky, and Sam, never appreciated. But they’ve come to appreciate it even more especially when they realized that the way you treated them, and took care of them, was what they truly needed.

And he fell even more when you showed such sweetness towards him. When everyone, especially Tony, would make fun of him for his lack of knowledge in the present, you’d be there to defend him, being feisty and telling off Tony and oh how Steve basked in such a sight.

But what he liked, or rather loved best was your calming presence. That at times, you would sit with him and simply be there for him when he’s about to face such intense task and other times join him in his solitude walks, not talking or even asking how the mission went, but rather just enjoying the night or the day and allowing the tension within him to seep out.

You were the serenity after the storm.

“Swear the only one I want is you, and it doesn’t matter what we do,”

His eyes grow wide when you start singing, no longer humming as you moved through the counter.

“We could fly around the world but we always end up dancing in the kitchen.”

He could feel his heart grow full, the smile on his face growing wide as he watches you dance silly in front of the stove. You take one of the spatulas from the drawers and pretended it to be a mic, your hand at your chest as you belted out the lyrics with such emotions.

He starts walking forward, placing his helmet quietly on the low table of the common room and making his way to you. He calls your name once but it surprises him that you don’t answer, then he notices the small white bud on your ear and it makes a chuckle leave his lips, his heart feeling full by just watching your bubbly state.

“I could spend a thousand nights right here inside this room.”

He couldn’t help but agree with the lyrics you sing. That as long as he’s with you, nothing would truly matter and everything would be alright in this gruesome world.

“Tell me, Stevie, if you feel the same way that I do. Ohh~ swear the only one I want is you.”

Did he hear correctly? Did you mix his name into the song? He blinks his eyes and stands frozen, jaw going slack as he continues to watch you move about the kitchen.

So many questions flit through his head all at once that he could feel his heart beating hard against his chest. His fingers flex as he asks the same question you unknowingly asked him: Do you feel the same way that I do?

He feels a sudden jolt of courage run through his bones and he finds himself moving, walking towards you. He must know, he must take this chance, for if he doesn’t, if he misses this window of opportunity, he isn’t sure when it will show itself again and he wouldn’t forgive himself if it reached another year or before he gets his answer.

Crossing the counter, he stands before you, hands taking hold of your hips when you accidentally bump against his chest. Your eyes are wide when you turn but they soften almost immediately when you see him, a sweet smile on your face.

“Stevie, you scare—”

But your words never make it past your lips as he cups your face and leans down to press his lips against yours. And oh how it was just as he imagined, soft and innocent, sweet and pure and he wills himself to hold back, to move his lips gently and treasure each moment that he’s taking. A smile forms on his lips when he feels you kiss him back, your arms wrapping around his neck and he takes it as a sign to pull you close, to hold you flush against him that he never wants to let go.

You both eventually part for air but Steve keeps his hold around you, his forehead pressing against yours as he inhales deeply, his nose kissed by your sweet scent and popcorn.

“What were you listening to?” He asks softly, not wanting to break the bubble that’s formed around the both of you.

You giggle at his question but don’t respond, instead, pulling off one of your earbuds and placing it snug in his ear before taking your phone out of your pajama pocket and replaying the song.

“City lights looking like ice underneath the stars. Beautiful but I’d rather be right here where we are.”

Steve sways you with him slowly as the music plays in his ear, taking in the melody and the lyrics. He hums softly to the tune as his hands frame your waist, holding you to him and sighing in content when you rest your cheek against his chest, your hands on his shoulders while both of you slow dance in the kitchen.

It was a tough mission but Steve’s glad he’s finally home.

#Steve Rogers #captain america #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america au #mcu au #coconut bun stories #Youtube

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thebabblingbrookenook · 1 year

Text

His First Muse

Pairings: Violet Bridgerton & Benedict Bridgerton, Violet Bridgerton & Anthony Bridgerton, Violet Bridgerton & Eloise Bridgerton

Summary: A brief insight through the years of Violet’s relationship with her children.

Warnings: Angst, Whump, Mentions of character death

Word Count: 5.3K

Author’s Note: Thank you so much @bridgertontess for this awesome edit. It goes perfectly with this fic. And thank you again to @colettebronte for always keeping me from going off the rails with commas.

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“Come and paint with me, Mama!” Benedict’s sweet, small voice pleaded as he pulled lightly on his mother’s arm.

Violet laughed affectionately at her son’s impatience. “Benedict dear, give your Mama just a moment. Getting up isn’t an easy feat these days,” she said while cradling her swollen, pregnant belly. She loved each of her three sons beyond measure, but her heart was secretly hoping for a beautiful little girl with her father’s eyes.

The light that positively radiated out of her second-born son was one of her greatest joys in life. She wasn’t sure what ignited that spark, but she prayed it would never be extinguished. The world desperately needed more of it, and so did she.

From the moment he blinked open those observant eyes, a swaddled infant in her arms, she knew he would see the world for all its beauty. But she feared he would also be privy to all its pain. It was impossible to understand the depths of one without the other, and her son’s eyes were fathomless.

As his tiny body grew, so did the capacity of his heart. He was a sensitive soul, always searching for understanding in others, but rarely finding what he was looking for. Even though he followed his older brother around with ardent admiration in his eyes, Violet knew they were two very different little boys.

Her eldest, Anthony, was an unstoppable force, commanding life to bend to his will. His willingness to try new things with a baffling confidence was mesmerizing to her. Even while learning to walk, his determination was unparalleled. Of all her children thus far, he conquered the challenge of his first steps three full months before the rest. He was dangerously charming, with glimmers of mischief that made him impossible to resist. People were drawn to his magnetism, thrusting him into the position of a natural born leader.

A wide-eyed Benedict was no exception to the rule. Everything Anthony did, Benedict was right there behind him, striving to match the strides of his brother - the hero. But Anthony was older, and things came to him with a frustrating ease. When he failed, he outwardly raged and tried again until he got it right. Benedict handled defeat differently. He absorbed it, folding in on himself instead of releasing his anger to the rest of the world.

Each time it happened, Violet watched his wonder-filled eyes dim a little darker. He held his weariness until there was no more room, and then burst at the seams with the magnitude of his rage. It was jarring to witness in contrast with his usual gentle demeanor. She came to realize that the patience and understanding that he reserved for others was not so easily extended to himself. It was unbearable to watch her child’s face crease with exhaustion as he tried to process himself. She had never known a fury so strong as the one she assigned to the shame that dared trespass on the soul of her beautiful baby boy, cloaking him in its shadow of comparison.

It was her privilege and responsibility as his mother, to teach him how to vanquish his foes. One day after a particularly dark episode, she scooped a deflated Benedict into her arms and carried him to what she hoped would be his sanctuary. She had enlisted Edmund’s help with converting a small room overlooking the back grounds of Aubrey Hall into a realm of endless possibilities and creativity. It was a place just for him. A quiet retreat for his mind to settle and his heart to translate the contents of his soul for the rest of the world to consume. She filled it with paints and papers, canvas and clay, strings and all the other little things that he might need.

Tears welled in her eyes as she witnessed the moment when her child came to know himself and recognized the beauty there. It just clicked. The room filled with a sure stillness that will never leave her memory. He didn’t need to be shown what to do, somehow he just innately knew. From that moment forward, he never stopped capturing his world. It was as if he had been wading through life with so much to say but had been rendered mute, and now he had discovered language. It wasn’t long before he was fluent.

Today, like so many other days, he pulled his mother down the hall with a heartfelt plea that she would never deny. “Come and paint with me, Mama!” And she would. The stories he told through shapes and colors moved her to tears of laughter. A princess and her trusty steed. A dragon with a biscuit addiction. Whatever his little mind could conjure made it to the page in vivid detail. He would hand her the finished work, beaming with pride, awaiting her affirmations.

Much to her delight, the purpose he discovered never faded. As he aged it took on new forms. Staggering new heights and impossible depths. Creations that once had her cackling with joy, now stunned her into silence with their beauty. And he would still come to her, his voice deeper now, and say, “Mother, come and paint with me.” And of course, she would. It pained her slightly when he had shifted from calling her Mama, but he was almost a man now. He had outgrown the endearment but quickly assured her that he could never outgrow her.

When her beloved Edmund was taken from them, she lost her way. She tried to worry for her children, focusing on anything other than her own despair, but she was overtaken by the weight of her grief. The presence of her two eldest sons was the only reason the night didn’t carry her away. The man that Anthony had grown into was a staggering thing to behold, and even though it was negligently unfair, she knew he would take care of the household while she couldn’t. His honor and his sense of duty would move Heaven and Earth for the ones he loved. The part of his life that was untouched by loss withered away, and she added that loss to her mountain of grief while she watched the 9th Viscount Bridgerton forming before her puffy, cried out eyes.

Benedict covered her in a type of comfort all his own. He sat with her, reading her the same childhood stories she used to read to him, letting the familiar words lull her sleep. And when her eyes drifted closed, he’d kiss her temple and promise, “I’ll see you when you wake.”

From time to time, the words he chose would be new to her ears, forcing her to focus on nothing but the sound of his voice. She knew now that they had been his own words. His own feelings laid bare as an offering before her. Extending a part of himself in vulnerability in hopes that it might make her feel less alone. Not just her, but himself too. She would slip her hand silently into his with a gentle squeeze and pray he understood she was still there somewhere, just buried beneath the wreckage.

On the nights when the crying found no end, he would sneak into her room, scoop her from her bed and invite her once again. “Come now, Mother. Come and paint with me.” And she would. She would sit in the stillness he cultivated and calm herself to sleep. She always woke the next morning safely in her bed, with a Benedict Bridgerton masterpiece resting on her bedside table. That was the first time she could remember what it felt like to smile again…

~~~~~~~~~

A lot had changed in the ten years since Edmund had passed. Her children grew and stepped into their lives. Anthony opened his heart to love, giving her glimpses of the vibrant boy she used to know. He and his lovely Viscountess, Kate, started a family of their own. From all the years filling the void left by Edmund’s absence, Anthony stepped effortlessly into the role of fatherhood. Benedict chased his heart wherever he could follow. He had outgrown their tiny room of solitude at Aubrey hall and now had a space where his imagination could roam free. His paintings not only hung in Bridgerton drawing rooms, but in Royal museums where the rest of the world could now bear witness to his talent. Colin explored the Earth as fast as the wind would take him, and Daphne blossomed into the most doting mother that put even Violet to shame. Eloise, in all her splendor, challenged the minds and tempers of everyone she met. Violet swelled with admiration every time she looked at her strong-willed daughter. Eloise would make a way for herself in this world, Violet was sure of it. Francesca, as she always did, took a path that moved her differently from the rest of her family. She was a complex, gorgeous enigma with a mind that rivaled her sister’s. She was fearless in her endeavors, and Violet found herself wishing to be more like the girl she had raised. Little Gregory and Hyacinth still had some growing up to do, but Violet no doubt had her hands entirely full with those two.

Despite moving forward without her love, Violet’s life was filled beyond measure. She hummed to herself happily around Aubrey Hall as she prepared the flowers for the arrival of tomorrow’s guests. Anthony and Kate had insisted upon throwing her a birthday soiree. She agreed under the conditions that no one discuss her advanced years. She was looking forward to having all of her children back together under one roof. And she could use some well spent time with good friends.

She smiled brightly when her eldest son approached to greet her with a kiss. “Kate and I are taking Franny and Hyacinth into town. Apparently there is some sort of ribbon crisis that needs attending. Would you like to join us, mother?”

“You’ve volunteered to go ribbon shopping?” she raised her brow skeptically.

“Hardly,” Anthony huffed. “I’m going to meet my old friend Mr. Dorset. He’s just returned from his medical studies in India and I invited him to stay with us for the week. You remember him, don’t you?”

“Of course,” Violet chided. “How could I forget your swimming partner? The two of you made quite the splash. The ladies of the ton talked about it for weeks.”

If she wasn’t mistaken, she thought she could actually hear the sound of her son’s eyes rolling. “I wish we would all try to forget that. It wasn’t one of my proudest moments.”

“Oh, Anthony,” she patted his cheek lovingly. “Lighten up. I’m sure Kate enjoyed it immensely.” She moved around him to reach for more flowers on the other side of the table. “Where is Eloise? Are you not taking her with you as well?”

“She insists that she wants to remain here to await Colin’s arrival. I left her with Benedict and his doodling. She should be fine for a while.” He shrugged unconcerned. “What about you, mother? Would you like to join us?”

“No,” she answered softly. “ I think I’ll stay and enjoy the silence before the chaos begins. But you have fun, dear. And tell Hyacinth to mind herself. You know how excitable she is with her ribbons.”

“Ugh,” he groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

He kissed her one last time before making his exit, leaving her to her flower arrangements. She shook her head in amusement, replaying their conversation. He was a terrible grump with a secret heart of gold. One well-timed flutter of his little sister’s lashes and he melted into a puddle of affection. Why he insisted on maintaining his gruff outer shell, she would never understand. She suspected it was out of habit now.

The day went on smoothly with hardly a peep from the rest of her children. Daphne and Simon had sent word that they would be arriving in the morning with Gregory in tow from Eton, and no one knew when Colin would make his appearance. He took his nomadic duties very seriously these days. But no matter, it was always a joyous reunion when he came bounding in, requesting hugs and sandwiches.

The sun lowered in the sky as Violet confirmed the final details of the next evening’s menu with Cook. She thought she might retire for the evening when she heard the unmistakable sound of a hunting rifle echoing in the distance.

Alarm pulled her to the back gardens, seeking an explanation. No one should be on the grounds yet. Dread prickled her skin as she searched the horizon, but all she found there was stillness.

Her feet carried her habitually through the halls of their summer home in search of her children. “Benedict!” she yelled, searching the usual spots.

“Eloise?!” No reply. Where had they gone off to?

Familiar noises drew her to the front door, swinging it open to find Anthony returned with the girls and his guest. “Anthony!” she cried, barely containing the panic in her voice. “Have you seen your brother? I can’t find him anywhere. Or your sister for that matter.”

The sudden severity of her question startled him and he looked up to see his mother’s pekid expression willing him to have the answer she needed. “I’ve only just gotten here, so I’m afraid I don’t know. If you give me a moment I can help you search.” He walked up the stairs to close the distance between them. Taking her hand in his, he tried to reassure her. “I’m sure all is well. You know Benedict wouldn’t let anything happen to Eloise. They are probably just lost in their daydreams somewhere. You know how those creative types can be.”

Violet forced herself to smile at her son’s attempt to ease her nerves with the loving mockery of his siblings. “Of course, darling. I’m sure you’re right. It’s just that…”

“What is it, mother?” he prodded, trouble now creasing his brow.

“A moment ago I could have sworn I heard a hunting rifle being fired…” her eyes flitted back and forth over Anthony’s shoulder scanning the vast grounds of their estate. “But I must have been mistaken. You’ve arranged a hunt for the weekend. It’s much too early for those preparations.”

“Oh,” Anthony’s shoulders visibly relaxed. “Mystery solved. I asked Benedict if he might attend to a few of our spare firearms for guests. Knowing Eloise, she berated him to within an inch of his life until he agreed to take her with him.” His head tilted up to observe the sky. “We’re losing the sun. I imagine they will be back any time now.”

Before Violet had a moment to consider, Eloise’s piercing cries stopped her heart entirely. “MAMA! PLEASE MAMA, COME QUICK!”

All sense of time ceased to exist. Violet wanted desperately to place her eyes on her daughter, but her legs suddenly felt as if they’d been filled with sand, weighing her down and slowing her efforts.

It was Anthony’s authoritative voice that quickened her resolve and directed her aimless desperation. “She’s coming from around the house. Cutting through the servant’s entrance is the quickest way to her.” His hand went to the small of Violet’s back as he gently guided her footsteps. “Kate, take the children inside and keep them there. And Dorset… I think you’d better come with us.”

They were through the house and bursting into the back gardens within seconds. Eloise was making her way towards them at breakneck speed, eyes wild and covered in… blood.

“Mama!” her quivering, spent body lurched forward into the safety of her mother’s arms.

“Eloise!” Violet gasped in relief to be holding her child. “Darling, are you hurt? What’s happened?!”

A horrified whisper clawed its way past Eloise’s lips. “It’s not my blood.”

Terrifying realization gripped at Violet’s heart, threatening to squeeze until the organ turned to dust. “Eloise… where’s your brother?”

“It was an accident,” her frail voice croaked. “It just… it just went off, Mama. It just went off.”

“Eloise!” Anthony shook her gently to release her from the chokehold of her shock. “Where is Benedict?!”

Peering into the eyes of her eldest brother was enough to break the dam of tears she’d managed to suppress. “The pond. We were at the treeline by the pond.”

Anthony didn’t hesitate for a second. “Dorset, with me!”

Violet watched helplessly as the two men sprinted towards the location Eloise had named. Towards her injured son. Her mind tortured her with the possibilities of what they would find when they arrived. She wanted desperately to run to him as fast as her legs would carry her, but abandoning her now hyperventilating daughter was out of the question. Her soul felt as if it were being torn in two.

“Breathe, darling,” she soothed. “Slowly… slowly. Let’s just take a moment to compose.” Looking down, her gaze lingered on the deep crimson coloring the pale blue fabric of Eloise’s dress. “We should get you out of these clothes.”

Eloise pinned her mother with a look of panic. “No! We have to go to him. I swore I’d come back. A broken promise can’t be the last thing…”

The last thing… Those three little words solidified Violet’s worst fears. “Take us to him, Eloise. We must make haste!”

The closer they got, the louder she could hear her son’s agonizing screams. Fear churned in her belly, rising bile up her throat. She was not prepared for the scene in front of her.

Benedict was writhing in pain, desperately trying to escape the ministrations of Mr. Dorset’s trained hands. Anthony clutched to him beseechingly, attempting to calm him and accept the life preserving measures. “Benedict! Please brother, I know it hurts but you must try to remain still. Let us help you.” His pleas fell on deaf ears. Benedict could not see beyond the suffering that had engulfed him.

Violet tried with every fiber of her being to avert her eyes from the wound spilling her son’s life onto the ground, but the evidence of its existence could not be avoided. It touched the entire atmosphere with its presence. The air was thick with heat from the fresh blood, and the smell permeated the taste buds, leaving a distinct metallic taste on the tongue.

She found herself petrified in place beside Eloise until a particularly harsh wail ripped through Benedict’s chest only to be followed by… silence. She was at his side immediately, lowering herself to the ground and nudging Anthony gently aside.

Violet knew her children and recognized the precipice on which Anthony was currently teetering. His demeanor was collected and frigid with control, but his eyes betrayed him. This was one failure that he would never let himself recover from, so she took the blame from his hands and assigned him a new purpose to tether him.

“Anthony,” she whispered, prying his hands away from his brother’s motionless frame. “Your sister… Don’t let her witness this. Go to her please.” When he looked up into her face he was six years old again, looking to his mother to make it all better. Her hand came to cup his cheek in comfort. “It’s alright Anthony. Go… I’ll be with him, and Mr. Dorset seems to have capable hands.”

Anthony took his permission to leave with gratitude and went to collect his sister. Eloise’s shouts of protest became muffled background noise when Violet’s focus was drawn back by the small whimper below her.

Truly taking in Benedict’s face for the first time sent a white-hot searing poker through her heart. His eyes were not open but they danced restlessly behind his lids. His skin was clammy and almost entirely void of color aside from the slight blue that tinged his lips. He looked so like his father. She was being transported ten years into the past, holding her beloved Edmund as he died in her embrace. This day could not end with the same fate.

“Mr Dorset,” she queried, somehow fitting a thousand questions into his name.

“Lady Bridgerton,” his voice was steady and she found that reassuring. “I promise that I will do everything in my power to help him, but I must tell you…His injury is severe. Without the proper tools there will be limitations with what I can do.”

“I understand. Please,” she begged. “Just try.”

“When I remove this pressure dressing to examine the wound he will start to bleed again, and he will most likely be in pain. I need you to keep him as still as you possibly can. Do you think you can do that for me?” She nodded her affirmation and he took her at her word. “Good. Are you ready?”

Even if she wasn’t ready, she had to be for Benedict’s sake. Time was not a luxury they could afford.

Right on cue, Benedict jerked with a gasp at Mr. Dorset’s touch. His eyes were wild but unseeing as he searched for the source of his torment. Violet was surprised by the amount of strength still left in his tired body. It was a genuine effort to hold him in place. “Benedict!” she called out to him. “Benedict, dear, it’s okay. I’m right here. I know it hurts but it’s okay. Just be still. I’m right here.”

Recognition fluttered across his features at the sound of her voice. “Mother?” he questioned, testing the accuracy of his reality. When she confirmed her presence he squeezed her hand so tightly it almost hurt. “Mother, what’s happening? It hurts. It really hurts.”

“There’s been an accident and you were injured but all will be well soon. Anthony has brought a surgeon to help. You just keep your eyes on me and try to stay calm.”

At the exact moment of her request, Mr. Dorset must have come in contact with a particularly tender spot because Benedict cried out in pain and tried the flench away. His chest heaved with the efforts of his labored breathing. Seeing him this way was destroying her, one agonizing second at a time.

“I’m scared, mother. Where are we? I don’t understand.” His voice was shaky and weak.

“We’re outside by the pond at Aubrey Hall. You and your brother brought me here to celebrate my birthday. Do you remember?” Keeping him talking seemed the best course of action.

“Outside at Aubrey Hall… You said we couldn’t talk about your age. Outside by the pond. By the pond.” His exhausted mind fought to put all the pieces together. Traces of memory sent a surge through him. “I was with Eloise! Eloise, where is Eloise?!”

“Ssshh, ssshhh,” Violet calmed him. “Anthony has her. She’s perfectly safe. She’s very worried about you though, so just hold on tight Benedict. Then we can go and tell her you’re alright.”

“She’s alright?” he asked again.

“Yes, darling. I promise.”

“And we’re outside,” he was talking more to himself than he was to her.

A new wave of pain swept over him but his screams had taken on the form of silent tears rolling down the ever-paling skin of his cheeks. Violet wanted desperately to take him away from here. To bring him to a place where he could find his stillness. And there was only one place she knew could do that.

“Yes, we’re outside. Look how beautiful the sunset is tonight. It holds all your favorite colors. The oranges are so vibrant.” The pain released him and his face softened as he took in his surroundings. This is how she would do it, keep his torment at bay. “Benedict, dear, come and paint with me. Tell me how you’d capture the sky. What colors would you need?”

He closed his eyes and a slow, small smile raised one corner of his mouth. “I’d need lots of oranges and yellows. But we can’t forget the pinks and purples that would streak the sky with richness. And of course, a lovely blue.”

“Blue?” she queried, wanting to understand the picture in his mind.

“Mmmhmm,” he hummed. His eyes fluttered open and peered into her own. His cold fingertips brushed lightly over her freckled cheek. “But not like your eyes. They’re so beautiful, but much too light for our painting mother. We need a blue so deep that it whispers the promise of the upcoming darkness. And we mustn't forget black and white to add shadows and light.”

“Of course,” she smiled. “That would just be silly of us. What else?”

His answers were still clear but they were taking longer to come. She prayed it was because he was lost in his reverie and not the exhaustion pulling him under. “Green. I’d like to include the trees along the water’s edge. The large ones that shade us in the summer. The ones you never used to let us climb.”

“You mean the trees I always found you at the top of regardless of my wishes?” she asked with humor in her voice.

“The very ones,” he grinned. “What about you mother, what would you like to add to our painting?” It always made her heart smile when he referred to his work as “ours.”

“How about the water itself? How would you do that?”

Another long pause filled the air. Violet looked over at the laboring Mr. Dorset whose face was scrunched in concentration. He showed no signs of admitting defeat and her hope was spurred on.

Benedict’s voice reached her ears, breathy and gentle. “The water would be textured in some parts, to show the life within it. But other parts would be still, perfectly reflecting the scene from above.”

She sat in silent admiration, tears dripping onto their clasped hands, and watched her son’s heart create. If she closed her eyes she could see it clearly, and it was brilliant.

Sounds of frustration pulled her attention back to the man working diligently to save her son’s life. “There’s nothing more I can do here. We need to get him to a cleaner environment. There are teas we can mix to help ease the pain and reduce fever. It’s just a matter of getting him transported safely. I’ll need help.”

“Of course. Whatever you need, Mr. Dorset, I will assure it is at your disposal. I am forever grateful to you for this.” If she wasn’t clutching onto Benedict for dear life, she would have stood to hug the man before her.

A weariness crossed his face that made Violet’s stomach sink like a stone. “I’m not sure if I am deserving of your gratitude just yet. But as I have said, I will do my best Lady Bridgerton.” He paused for a moment, contemplating his next course of action. “Will you be alright here with him alone for a few moments while I retrieve Lord Bridgerton, or would you prefer me to stay with your son and you relay the message for assistance?”

The thought of leaving Benedict now was utterly excruciating. “You may go. I should like to stay right where I am. But please, do hurry.”

She watched his retreating form disappear over the hill and reminded herself that his absence was only temporary. He would return with Anthony and whoever else they might find to help. He had a plan. A next step. And that was all she needed right now. The next step, one moment at a time.

Benedict’s grip loosened around her fingers and her eyes shot back to his face. He looked slightly more at peace, as if the pain had left him. Shaking gently she tried to rouse him. “Benedict… Benedict, open your eyes. We haven’t finished our picture. What else would you paint?”

Heavy lids blinked open languidly only to close again moments later. Her ears strained to hear him when he answered. “Nothing. I think we’ve finished, Mama. It’s darker now. Night is almost here. Do you like it?”

The ominous nature of his words froze the blood right in her veins. Taking a deep, stilling breath, she forced herself to respond. “It is my favorite one yet, darling.”

“Mmm,” came his spent response. “I’m so tired, Mama…”

She was openly weeping now. She had no more energy left to give to maintain the facade of a kempt composure. “I know sweetheart. Just a little while longer.”

She knew she was asking him for more than he could give. Clutching him to her chest, she kissed the side of his lulling head and wept. Her heart reached out to Edmund for strength as she listened to the muted sounds of Benedict’s shallow breathing. The only thing left she had to offer was prayer. “I beg of you, please don’t take my child. I’ll willingly offer my life in exchange. Please, not my baby…”

Because that is what he would always be. Even as she held him now, twice her size and fully grown, she still cradled her precious baby boy. A child with the most breathtaking heart and unparalleled capacity for compassion. A child with an inner light that this world desperately needs.

Violet didn’t know how long she sat there rocking him back and forth. It was only when she felt Anthony’s warm hands pull her from the ground and into an embrace that she remembered that there were still other people in the world.

There was nothing left to do. She was helpless to the will of fate. Forced to sit. Forced to wait…

~~~~~~~~~~

One Year Later

Violet stood alone in a crowded hallway of Somerset House. The sun cascaded in through the domed glass ceiling, covering the patrons and the art in its warmth. She was fixated on the image in front of her, studying the brush strokes and committing every rich color to her memory. It brought her a peace that she hadn’t known in a very long time. It was familiar and warm, reminding her deeply of someone she loved.

She could have stared at it for hours. It had a way of silencing the rest of the world and bringing her to a place of stillness. It granted her privacy to be in solitude but she never felt alone. One day, she would request permission to purchase the piece from Somerset so that she could place it in her home, but for now it needed to be here for the rest of London to see.

She had been so immersed in her own little world that she hadn’t noticed the person settle in beside her. His deep voice startled her awake. “It’s much too cold. Where’s any sense of the subject’s spirit? And the light! Given the quality, I do wonder why the piece was not skyed with the other daubs.”

Looking up into his handsome, cheeky face, she smiled as far as her face would stretch. “Benedict, dear…”

He took her arm and tucked it securely around his own. “I knew I’d find you here. Wouldn’t you like to see some of the other artists? I’m sure you get quite bored of all my scribblings.”

She shook her head assertively. “I still maintain that this one is my favorite yet. When it is no longer on loan to Somerset House, I would like to have it for myself.”

“Anything you want, mother. I’d paint you the world if you asked.” he promised sweetly, kissing her on the cheek. “Come along, now. Anthony is looking for you.”

She took one last look at the painting and traced her fingers over the gold plate that held the title.

Outside by the Pond with Mother

Mr. Benedict Bridgerton

_________________________________________________

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