#v: Bathing in the light [💜]

[arcielee]

ilībio

Summary: Aemond finds comfort in your cunt. Paring: Aemond Targaryen x female!reader Word Count: 2.6+ Warnings: reader AFAB, dubcon elements?, oral (m receiving), vaginal fingering, rough sex as a coping mechanism, p in v unprotected, a hint of possessive Aemond as a treat Author’s Note: Thank you my beloved beta reader @sylasthegrim 💜 This story was partly inspired by the brilliance of @peachysunrize (my muse 💜) and @adragonprinceswhore and their wonderful pieces they shared on this hellsite, but it was also inspired by this bitch ass anon. This man is beautiful and I would do anything to be a hole at his disposal. Enjoy! Valyrian translations: ilībio is whore, Iksā ñuhon is you are mine 😈

The instructions from the madame were clear: you were not to speak to the prince and you most certainly were not to look him in the eye. 

It was hard to follow her explicit instructions, as he was as beautiful as he was captivating. You recalled the night when you first saw Prince Aemond. He was poised at the entrance, pulling back his hood to reveal the silver spill of his hair that showed gold in the amber light basking the brothel, his brow furrowed as he looked over the room before taking a step. He was tall and lithe with a grace that cut through the crowd, not sparing a glance at the patrons or whores that parted to allow him through. 

You remembered hearing the stories of the old gods of Old Valyria and thought that he was truly the embodiment from those legends, that he glowed from the ichor knitted into his veins. 

He paused to look at you, and you felt your heart begin to gnaw at your ribs, your pulse erratic as you burned under his one-eyed scrutiny. Your head was in a fog, unable to understand his question. “Your grace,” you chose to say with a curtsy that was clumsy and unpractised. 

He did not care for the attempt or for your formality, but instead repeated his question. “Where is she?” 

You escorted him to Sylvi as requested, and the madame was quick to capitalize on her honored guest, excusing you at once. You continued to watch him from the shadows, entranced, lost in the daydream of being whisked away with the favoritism of a Targaryen prince. 

When he finally left, she caught your gaze that followed him. Her law was laid, he was hers alone, and your envy was hot and thick in your blood, but you were nothing but another whore to serve, awaiting at her beck and call. 

It was her constant threat of being cast out to Flea Bottom that kept you obedient. She wished you to be a decorative piece, dressed in sheer gowns chosen to complement your figure, and tasked to carry a carafe that would keep the cups filled. You did what you were told; you moved throughout, your fingers curled around the neck and the other hand supporting the bottom, careful not to spill a drop. 

Your second run in with Prince Aemond was nearly your undoing. 

You did not even see him, as your trained demure gaze left you counting your footsteps, and despite how lean the prince looked, he felt solid enough when you stumbled into him. Your hands cramped to hold the bottle upright, your senses flooded with the scent of the leather he had been wearing earlier, mixed with the sheen of perspiration and the bathing oils you surely would never afford.

You were rooted to the cobblestone with the realization that he was bare. 

He seemed to tower over you, and the dragonfire that burned bright showed in the lavender of his eye, glittering in the sapphire of the other. You were mortified and he frowned in return, his silver brow furrowed as he looked you over.

You stared back at him, your embarrassment fading, and perhaps it was your unabashed awe that caught his attention–but whatever it was, he would not tell you.

Prince Aemond reached out to grip your jaw, dimpling into your cheeks. You could feel the warmth from his fingertip trickle down your spine and pool into your core; your thighs clenched for relief, your heart screaming to be consumed.

He tilted his head, his eye boring through as if he could see what you desired, though it was painted plainly on your face. He smirked. “One whore is as good as another,” he spoke out loud, and you felt your heart expanding, pumping your blood and encouraging your steps to follow after him. 

The prince glided to a stop in front of an enclave that was draped in silk and lace. The whore and her patrons inside recognized him at once, scattering like rats into the shadows and leaving you alone with the dragon prince. 

Your hands were still shaking as you set the carafe on top of a table, wiping your palms on your skirts. You turned to face the prince and saw his posture was proud, his muscles tensing as his hands balled into fists at his sides; his eye was ever-watchful of you. 

Your lips parted with a soft exhale to soothe your nerves, to settle the pounding in your chest. You took a slow step towards him, your fingers wishing to reach and touch the marble he had been crafted from, but instead you untied the dress that was wrapped around your waist. The fabric pooled at your feet and you were just as bare, your blood seering to the surface when you saw his cock twitch, a lust that began to cloud his eye. 

It was exhilarating to entice a god. 

Your eyes widened with your own admiration as you took him in, a trepidation that fluttered throughout when he did not reach for you right away. Another exhale and you moved closer to kneel before him, your head tilting up to look at him. 

His jaw ticked, a curiosity flickering, waiting for your next move. 

You swallowed your hesitation and your eyes washed over him with reverence, falling to the lines that cut into his slim hips and trailing in-between. Your touch was gentle to wrap your fingers around his hardening cock, moving it aside to press a wet kiss on the curve of the base. You rested back on your heels and looked up again, licking your lips. 

The prince had you rooted with his heady gaze, a rose dusting to his features. His hand touched the top of your head, returning your attention back to how hot and heavy he now was against the palm of your hand. 

It thrilled you. Your tongue flattened to follow along the side, tracing every ridge and vein of his impressive length. The tip was flushed and you pressed another kiss, licking away the briny taste from your lips before wrapping them around to savor the dragon thrumming in your hand. 

He gave a low groan, tensing with how your mouth moved to engulf him. His hand curled into the back of your scalp with a hold that made your skin prickle; your hand grabbed his hip to anchor your endeavor, moving up and down until he was slick from your spit, your desperation to try and swallow every inch of him. 

You gagged, pulling back to lick your other hand and wrap it around what could not fit, matching your pace. He now held onto you with both of his hands, his fingers knotting into your hair with a hold that brought tears to your eyes, but you would not stop–the taste of royalty igniting in your blood vessels. You were spurred on with the sounds that spilled from his lips, and he bucked into your mouth, bruising your throat. 

Only then did you let go, gasping for air. “Forgive me–”

He did not let you finish. He reached to wrap his hand around your upper arm and he pulled you to stand. “Get on the bed.” His voice was low and lethal, velvet that wrapped around to control you. 

You scrambled on top with a visceral shiver from that anticipation already curling at the base of your spine. You looked up at Prince Aemond and it beckoned him closer with a heavy sway between his slender thighs. “My prince, you will not fit,” you realized, “I must–I need to prepare myself…” 

He loomed over you, balancing one arm on the edge of the mattress while the other reached to stop your hand. “Allow me,” he murmured, bringing his first two fingers to his tongue before dipping to slip them between your silken folds. 

It mixed with your arousal, jolting through you as his fingers curled into you. The stretch burned for a moment, but his touch was tactful, pressing upwards until colors began to dance in front of your eyes, soft sighs spilling.

You whined when his hand pulled away, wiping your slick onto his cock. He pushed forward until you melted back onto the bed. Your legs spread to invite him to the cradle of your hips, and he paused to look at you, a softer expression worn as his eye dropped to your lips. 

Your pulse quickened with your hope for a kiss. 

But instead, his hand dipped to guide his length. You felt a shiver of delight from the glide of his swollen cockhead up and down your slit, gathering the wetness that pooled. You ached for more, willing, wanting, canting your hips to angle yourself in a way for him to sink into you.

The prince took his time and you back arched, gooseflesh rippling over from the intimate pressure, from his intoxicating scent and the softness of his hair tickling your skin, from the heat that seemed to permeate from him. He pushed into you further and it was a fullness you had never experienced before; your walls clenched with the slow rut of his hips, deeper and deeper, until he fully sheathed himself within your warm cunt. 

The prince melted into you, molding to your body. His head tucked into the curve of your neck, his teeth nipping at your pulse to muffle his low groan that rumbled through you.

Your lips pressed to his collarbone, a muted mewl in response. Your vision spun and your legs lifted to wrap around his slender waist, pulling him closer. Your hands followed up the definition of his arms to his shoulders, nails biting to hold onto him; you licked his skin. 

He pushed back with a shudder, eye blown and red blotches staining his alabaster skin. A slow roll of his hips went even deeper and you moaned at the sensation. This pleased the prince, and his lips touched the soft spot under your ear, your nipples pebbling when you felt his smile, his rasped command on your skin: “Let them hear you.” 

The madame taught all the girls how to feign pleasure. There was an art of kohl and hooded eyes, of girlish whimpers and whines to encourage patrons to completion. 

But it was unneeded with how the prince was splitting you in half with his cock.

His palms pressed to hold you against the slow snap of his hips, fucking you into the bed until you were teetering on the precipice of both pleasure and pain. Tears pearled at the corners of your eyes and spilled with his brutal pace. He does not see them, his sharp chin tucked to his chest, mesmerized by the white ring forming around the base of his cock that glides in-and-out of you.

It sparked a kaleidoscope of colors with each thrust and you clenched again. “Gods,” he hissed, “you were made for me.” 

His praise was muted, your mind so lost in the haze of passion building, in the wet suction of your cunt desperate to pull him back into you. Your slick spilled in-between your thighs, your fingers fluttering to his hips to pull him even closer– 

But Prince Aemond pulled away. 

You could not stop your whine, pressing to your elbows to watch him. He cupped your chin, not  rough like before, but enough to tilt your head back and truly look at you. The severity of his features softened, the natural curl to his pink lips ticking upwards and hinting at a smile. “I want you to turn around and get on all fours.”

Your stomach dropped at the thought of him claiming his pleasure in a more… unnatural means, remembering the horror stories that the girls shared. You burned as you moved, just as he wished–for how could you deny a prince? You faced away, your arse up. 

His palms were warm when they touched your hips, sliding back to spread your cheeks to see how you glistened for him. There was another noise of content as he shifted behind you, another trill of pleasure up your spine when you felt his cock pressing into your cunt again. 

This new angle was tight, and your hands knotted into the linen of the bed to brace yourself. The prince does not force himself on you, but takes his time to fit; he leaned over you, his lips touching the curve of your spine and his large hand reaching around to palm your breast, pinching your nipple between his finger and thumb.

You crumbled, another muffled cry into the bed, your nerves aflame. His hand followed to the nape of your neck, a firm hold to pull you back up. “Let them hear you,” his repeated rasp was hot against your skin. 

His hands bruised into your hips, sinking into you until the tops of his thighs were flushed against your arse. You were shaking, your back arching to feel him pressing even further than before. He hummed and slammed into you with a pace that builds.

It returned you to that pleasure you tasted earlier when his fingers curled within you, something anew. It was a warm sensation that prickled over your skin, igniting with his thrusts. Your hips rocked back to meet with his unrelenting rhythm as he crashed against you, again and again, until you shattered, splintering off and lifting above, a thousand butterfly wings fluttering throughout you. 

Your cries pulled him after, your cunt grasping for his release. It was quieter for him; the prince hunched over you, his damp brow pressing to your spine with another guttural groan as he pulsed hot and deep into you. 

You fell into the mattress, breathless and drunk from the pleasure pulled. Your mind was tittering how you should fetch a cloth to clean the prince, to pour a fresh goblet to wet his throat, but your body refused. 

At best, you muscled enough strength to turn your neck and look at his sharp angles as he laid on his side, taking in the vision he commanded: the rose tones that touched him intimately, the freckles sprinkled on his shoulders, the lavender color that returned to his one eye. 

Princely, you thought. “Beautiful,” you murmured.

His jaw ticked and for a moment, you swore he flushed from what you said. He touched a finger to your hip, following your curves and coming up to press into your chin to hold your attention–as if you would dare to look away. 

“I will be back for you tomorrow,” he decided.

Your practiced stoicism masked your elation. “She will not like that, my prince,” you reminded him, thinking of the venom that poured when Sylvi glared at you. She made sure to mention him like a trophy she possessed, her face perpetually smug with her every mention of him. 

A smirk played on his lips. He pulled you into his chest and you felt his spend spilling in-between your thighs. You did not care but melted into his warmth, your arm wrapping around his waist, pressing your face to his chest and feeling the low hum of his heart. 

“She will be of no concern,” he spoke like a man who acted without any fear of consequences, but you supposed that this was the tone of all royalty. He pressed a kiss to your hairline and it jolted through your chest. “Iksā ñuhon.”

You curled against him, too dazed to comprehend the weight of his words that rolled from his lips–the tongue of Old Valyria. They meant nothing to you as you laid in the arms of a god.

hotd masterlist || arcie's navi

[lalacliffthorne]

💜 starshine pt. VI 💜

Rhys x Reader

part I part II part III part IV part V part VI

summary: when after more than a century, things finally begin falling into place.

notes: I can't believe how long this took - both writing this next part and the actual things happening *facepalms*. and these twoooo 😭💕. I can't. they make me feel so mushy and happy and all giddy and warm. and all of you, loving this so much, make me feel even more mushy and happy and giddy, so thank you so much for staying with me on this!! if everything goes to plan, this is actually the second to last chapter, and we are, finally, getting somewhere ;)

______________________________________________________________

With a sharp inhale, my eyes snapped open, and my breath staggered.

The sheets were clinging to my skin, damp with cold sweat, my heart pounding painfully against my ribs. Blood rushed through my ears as my gaze darted over a high, dark ceiling, and for a second, panic and a dull pain rose in my chest, my body frozen still.

Then I realised that a weight was resting over my stomach and a scent was flooding my senses, so achingly familiar, my muscles melted.

Quickly, I turned my head, and my lungs squeezed.

In the silvery light of the moon shining through the windows, I could see Rhys' dark shape stretched out on the mattress next to me, the dips and planes of his muscular back rising and falling slowly with his even breaths. His head was resting on the pillow next to me, his face turned my way, brows smoothed over and eyes closed. His dark hair was unruly and tousled from sleep, the swirls of darkness stretching over his broad shoulders and down the arm that was loosely resting over my waist, his skin radiating warmth through my thin nightgown.

My heart soared before free falling, and I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, fighting against the echoes of screams and laughter in my ears, the feeling of cruel darkness and bound magic and hands slipping away into nothingness.

Suddenly, the air felt too stiffled, too stale, too reminiscent of the nightmare that had been reality.

Hastily, I slid out from under Rhys' arm, pushing the covers to the side and slipping off the mattress, my feet quick on the cool floorboards as I darted over to the huge windows soundlessly, tearing at them until they were wide open and a soft, cool breeze brushed over my skin.

My heart squeezed tightly, and I breathed in, quick and deep, the scent of sweet petals and night leaving an ache growing in my chest as my gaze darted over the garden below that was bathed in starlight, flowers glowing and faeries floating over the water reflecting the galaxies above.

My fingers curled around the window handle before loosening, and something in my chest quivered when I let my forehead sink against the cool wooden frame and squeezed my eyes shut.

I could still feel the heavyness on my chest, the ache pulsing under my ribs as images flashed before my eyes, and something closed around my throat.

Sliding my hand off the window, I looked over my shoulder towards the bed, and the ache in my chest soared at the dark shape still motionless on the mattress, breathing evenly.

Fighting against the sudden pressure in my throat, I moved, quickly slipping past the bed and out of the room.

The house was silent as I soundlessly hastened down the stairs, my long silk nightgown swishing around my ankles as I slipped past the table and opened one of the big windows leading out onto the terrace. The gentle night breeze whispered over my bare arms and shoulders, and I squeezed out into the night, the stone of the terrace cold under my feet before it was replaced by cool, soft grass as I hurried down the steps and through the high grass.

Faeries were swishing through the glowing flowers, darting towards me and showering me in golden dust, tittering softly and curiously before whizzing away again.

Slowly, my steps calmed, and I closed my eyes, breathing in the fresh air, feeling flowers and high grass brush my hands, a gentle, soothing warmth slowly spreading through me that seemed to stem from the earth itself.

Next to the pond that reflected the galaxies twinkling over the mountains, I let myself sink down into the soft grass, stretching out and staring up into the sky. My palms pressed against the earth, and I closed my eyes, focusing on the soft hum of energy that slowly travelled through me, golden light lazily flooding through my veines until my chest squeezed and my breath shuddered.

My heart tipped over; I opened my eyes, and movement at the edge of my field of vision made me turn my head.

Something rose and pulsed gently under my ribs when I saw the dark figure standing on the terrace.

Even from a distance, I caught the moment violet eyes clocked me by the pond, bare shoulders sinking a little, swishes of darkness whispering into nothingness as Rhys' gaze pierced mine. Then he moved, beginning to slowly walk down the steps.

Resting my cheek on the grass, I watched as he came towards me, movements smooth and elegant, his tousled hair black like ink in the night, violet eyes reflecting the silver and purple above. His pants were sitting low on his hips, and something twisted in my stomach at the sight of shifting muscles disappearing into black fabric.

The silk of his pants swished against my skin when Rhys crouched down and let himself plop down onto the ground next to me. Then his shoulder brushed against mine and he stretched out on the grass, one of his hands sliding up to rest on his stomach. His body dwarfed mine even shoulder to shoulder, my feet barely level with his shins, and I stared at the side of his face as his gaze dragged slowly over the night sky above. Something dipped and swerved, squeezed and fluttered in my chest as my eyes flickered over his nose and lips, the sharp line of his jaw and cheekbones, and suddenly, my breath hitched in my throat.

“What happened?”

Rhys' quiet voice, deep and a little raspy with sleep, tore me out of the pulsing feeling under my ribs, and when I blinked, he turned his head to look at me.

I tried to swallow against the flutter in my throat, the ache in my chest that staring at him had awakened. Rhys seemed to misinterpret my silence, one corner of his lips tipping up gently as his gaze slowly moved over my face.

“As far as I know, you don't usually wake up in the middle of the night to lay around on the cold ground.” There was a soft twinkle in his eyes, but it couldn't hide the barely there crease between his brows, and something dipped in my chest when my shoulder brushed his and I felt a clenching sensation in my chest that wasn´t mine.

I blinked again, and the soft ache under my ribs pulsed.

“I had a dream.”

Rhys' gaze moved over my face. Then his quiet voice vibrated through me, gentle and even.

“What kind of dream?”

Something closed around my throat like an iron fist, and I stared at him, feeling a weight settle on my chest and pressure rise in my throat and eyes.

“Of the mountain,”, I whispered.

Rhys blinked, and I could see the muscles in his shoulder shifting, growing still.

“It used to be worse.” I tried a lopsided smile, but it felt weak, and a little uneven. “But it still comes back, once in a while.”

Rhys stared at me. Then he mumbled softly: “What do you dream of?”

Something started skipping painfully under my ribs.

“I see the faeries.” My whispered words were barely audible as my gaze dragged over Rhys' face, trying to ingrain every angle into my memory as pressure began to rise in my throat. “All of them. Caught and chained, tortured and mutilated in the revel. And I can't help them. I'm caught in the crowd, and I try to move, but no matter how much I fight, it's like I'm watching from outside my own body. And their pain breaks me apart.” My voice was weak, the images rising in front of my eyes causing the ache in my chest to grow.

“And then I see you.” My whisper broke as the pressure in my throat became unbearable, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from Rhys' face, even as my vision blurred and my lips quivered.

“And she's torturing you, and I can't move. I can't get to you. And I try to tell you, scream at you that I will get you out, but I can't speak.” My breath trembled as the ache in my chest spread, taking over every inch of my body until my voice broke and I felt something hot run over my cheek.

“And then in that dream, I wake up, and I'm alone. Seeing you, finding you, never happened. And I can't feel you.” I inhaled quickly, hotly, my chin trembling. “You're gone.”

Through blurry eyes, I saw Rhys stare at me, still, frozen. Then a muscle in his cheek shifted, and he rolled onto his side; his warm, calloused hand slipped up my neck to cradle the side of my face, and Rhys leaned down to press his forehead against mine.

“I'm here.” His deep, husky voice travelled through me, vibrating with sorrow yet so steady and firm that my breath shuddered.

My eyes squeezed shut as the ache in my chest rose and overwhelmed me, and I twisted, wrapping my arms around Rhys' shoulders, clinging to him as I buried my face in the crook of his neck and felt hot tears roll over my cheeks, the ache in my chest pulsing.

“Look at you,”, Rhys mumbled hoarsely, his hands sliding over my waist as he slipped his arms around me, pulling me tightly into his chest. “Really thinking it'd be that easy to get rid of me.”

A wet laugh bubbled in my chest.

“Wouldn't it?”

“No.” Rhys' mumble was steady, if only a little rough when he dropped his nose into the crook of my neck, causing a gentle shiver to travel over my spine. “You know I'm too much of a selfish bastard for that.”

I inhaled shudderingly, feeling my lips rise weakly as I whispered into his skin: “You're not selfish.”

“I am.” A calloused hand slid up over my back, the arms around my waist pulling me in tighter as Rhys curled around me and buried his nose at my shoulder, his low voice vibrating through me as he mumbled steadily: “Even if my soul was dragged from this world, I would still claw my way back to you.”

Something rose in my chest, wild and violent, and my eyes opened, a curtain of tears leaving the world blurry as Rhys' quiet voice washed through me.

“No one will ever keep me from you, take me away from you again. Wherever I go, it will only be with you.”

My heart soared before giving out, and I dug my fingers into his broad shoulders, feeling my leg slide over his waist as his tall body curved around mine.

“Sounds impractical,”, I whispered thickly, my breath hitching and causing my voice to break a little.

Rhys' lips curved against my skin.

“We'll make it work.” His quiet words vibrated through me, steady and soft. “I'll just have to follow you like I always have.”

My chest tightened harshly as warmth pulsed through me, and I whispered, soft and weak: “What if I go somewhere you cannot follow?”

Rhys slid his arms closer around me, burying his nose against my skin as he mumbled back hoarsely: “There's no place in this world, or beyond, that you could go, where I wouldn't follow.” I could feel him swallow, then he added softly: “I'll always find a way to you.”

My heart tightened as my breath caught in my throat, and I clung tighter to him, feeling his body shielding mine as I curled into his chest and turned my head to bury my face in his neck, squeezing my eyes shut, my body shuddering with my exhale and the weight of tears pressing on my throat.

“Why?” The whispered words were trembling, thick, spilling past my lips before I could stop them, fueled by the ache rising under my ribs. But Rhys just swallowed, his deep voice soft in a hoarse mumble.

“You know why.”

My heart twisted and rose, higher and higher. My breath caught in my throat, and my lips quivered as I hastily burrowed my face in his neck and tried to breathe against the ache pulsing under my ribs.

The breeze whispered through the trees, faeries floating over the pond as the stars twinkled in the sky. Rhys held me until my lids were heavy, tears dried on my cheeks, my heart thrumming steadily against my ribs. Then he gathered me in his arms and moved to stand.

Something rose under my ribs, and when I pulled back just a little, my arms still slung around his neck, Rhys dropped his forehead against mine, his breath fanning over my skin as he turned.

My heart swelled in a flutter, and I clung to him, his arms holding me steady as Rhys started to walk back towards the house. I curled my arms around his shoulders and squeezed my eyes shut, feeling warmth pulse through me, strong, steady, Rhys' nose brushing my cheek when he pressed his forehead against my temple, carrying me up the stairs.

☆

I woke with the gentle morning breeze brushing over my skin, the scent of daybreak dew and fresh air filling my lungs, and my body buried in a warm chest, with the heavy weight of arms slung around me tightly and a scent in my nose that, even in the haze of sleep, made something tumble under my ribs.

My breath hitched softly, and I opened my eyes. My gaze focused on sunkissed golden skin and dark twisting tattoos over strong collarbones, and a muscled arm cushioning my head.

My heart toppled, and something in my stomach dipped.

You know why.

Rhys' hoarse voice echoed through my head, and suddenly, the flutter in my chest grew until there was a soft ache pulsing under my ribs.

Feeling a weight on my throat, I turned, sliding out of Rhys' arms as carefully as possible. My heart was thrumming against my ribs when I slipped out of the room, and trying to fight against the chaotic whirlwind in my head and chest, I moved down the stairs.

Golden morning light filtered through the windows facing the front garden, painting patterns onto the carpet and the books filling the shelves. I dragged open the window doors leading out onto to the terrace, breathing in deeply as my gaze moved over the garden dipped in the first golden sunrays, fairies whizzing through the air, carrying dew drops, giggling and tittering, and my heart skipped softly against my ribs.

Filling the kettle and putting it onto the stove, I pulled a pot from the cabinet, and a cup. Then, my hands no longer busy, I slowly turned, leaning back against the counter as my fingers flew over the cold marble, up to the ends of my hair before settling for fiddling with the thin strap of my nightgown as I stared into the garden, my heart pounding in my chest.

You know why.

Something in my stomach tumbled.

I did.

I had for a while now. Had felt the thought looming, bright and powerful somewhere beneath the surface. The beginnings of a realization, a vague shape, like an unspoken thought, a distant knowledge that I refused to grasp.

Because acknowledging it, just thinking it out loud would mean something so big, so terrifying it made something squeeze in my chest.

An explanation as to why Rhys had kept coming back to me. For the way he stared at me, the twinkle in those violet eyes, for that rising feeling in my chest I couldn't place and that radiated from him, for the closeness, the banter, the blatant flirting, the trust and the things he said, casually, easily, so so sure.

It made something rise in my chest.

There was something, a reason, a realization, just under the surface. And it terrified me.

Because what if I was wrong?

What if what Rhys was supposedly feeling was just fleeting, or not at all what I made it out to be?

What if what I was seeing was what I wanted to see – and not what was really there?

Something closed tightly around my chest as the flutter in my chest rose, soared higher and higher.

It would mean a broken heart.

My breath shuddered, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

Gods, I'd been an idiot. Not realising, maybe refusing to see how my soul reacted to the male with the stars in his eyes, how my whole being seemed to respond to him.

I had fallen. Maybe slowly over the span of a century, maybe with a crash the first time I'd met him and felt him behind those walls.

Something squeezed under my ribs. It twisted before rippling away soundlessly, and a trembling breath left me as I opened my eyes and stared out into the garden, wide-eyed and utterly terrified.

I loved him.

Maybe, it had always been there, lurking under the surface, in the way my breath seemed to hitch whenever I stared at him and he smiled.

I loved him. Was in love with him. So fiercely, so deeply, so all-consuming that it made my chest thrum, caused my heart to twist and soar, until the feeling filled my body. Slowly, creepingly, it had taken up every part of my soul and my being. Had made him a part of me, his pain, his anger, his sorrow, his happiness, all mine in a way nothing had ever been before. Had made him beginning and end and everything in between.

I loved Rhys.

“Shit,”, I whispered softly.

There was a low, deep chuckle behind me; and I jumped and whirled around.

Rhys crunched his brows against the light, purple eyes tired and twinkling, his voice, rough with sleep, vibrating through me when he mumbled with a smirk: “Ouch. Not usually the way I'm greeted.”

My fingers dug into the counter as I stared at him in shock, trying to breathe, my eyes wide and my heart pounding against my ribs. There was a pillow crease on his cheek, which I hadn´t thought physically possible, his hair was tousled and muscles were shifting under his bare skin as he moved past the table and rubbed his eyes.

Suddenly, heat was washing over me, and I tried to tear my gaze away, pull myself together. But my body refused to listen, stayed frozen in the spot as I stared at him wide-eyed, my breath hitching harshly, and Rhys slowed to a stop. His gaze flickered over my face, and a soft crease formed between his brows.

“Darling?”

Maybe my shields had never been any good, and he'd been able to sneak past them all this time. Or maybe, the feelings whirling in my chest, the chaos and panic in my mind, were simply too loud, too strong, bursting through me, echoing outwards at a volume that meant he didn't even need to be in my mind to hear them.

Either way, Rhys stilled. Became frozen in the spot as he stared at me. Then he blinked, and his eyes shifted.

Turned swirling and bright like the galaxies in the night sky as the crease between his brows melted away into nothingness and he exhaled like he'd been waiting for a century.

“All this time.” His soft voice was hoarse as his gaze dragged over my face, slightly feverish, drinking me in. “And you still didn't see.”

My heart dropped and I could feel my lips part – then something in my chest shifted, and soundlessly, a wall crumbled.

A barrier of the mind, built around the male a few feet away, slowly collapsing into itself.

My heart caught in my throat, and my eyes darted up and widened as something in my chest rose.

I could feel everything.

Emotions so strong, they took my breath. Twined together so firmly, they were barely discernable; desperation, relief, adoration, want and need, twisting together into something hot and rising, growing into something all consuming.

I'd always felt Rhys, but never like this; had never felt his emotions, so deep and powerful and clear that they turned my doubts and fears to stardust, the ache in my chest blowing away into the sky, until my breath shuddered and my heart settled.

I inhaled softly, feeling my lips part as the emotions that weren't my own pulsed in my chest, steady, firm, unrestrained. Then I raised my head, and Rhys swallowed, his iris a night sky as his gaze dragged over mine, deep and feverish and swallowing me whole as he mumbled hoarsely: “There it is.”

A soft, breathy giggle bubbled in my throat as I stared at him, feeling pressure building in my throat and a flutter rising in my chest, growing with every second.

My fingers shook a little as I took a hesitant step forward, followed by another, and another, my eyes darting over Rhys' face, my heart swelling. He had grown completely still, like the smallest move could scare me away, like there wasn't something pounding against my ribs and swelling in my throat, causing tears to rise into my eyes as I lifted a hand and placed my palm on his chest.

The feeling of Rhys´ warm skin sent a shiver down my skin, just like the quick, racing beat of his heart as I stared up at him, feeling my bottom lip wobble a little even as I started to smile, slow and beaming. Then I opened myself and the whirlwind under my ribs.

Rhys' eyes widened.

A shuddering breath ran through him, and his hand flew up to cover mine, fingers curling around mine, holding on almost desperately, like he was afraid I'd pull away, break the thrum of emotion flooding through me into his body. Then a soft sound broke from his chest, and Rhys moved, forward and forward until my arm was trapped between us and the whole of his body pressed against mine, his free hand sliding up to cradle my face, and my heart caught in my throat when he dropped his head to press his forehead against mine.

The flutter in my chest rose, and I quickly squeezed my eyes shut and breathed out shakingly.

Rhys made a soft, hoarse sound deep in his throat, his hand slipping down the side of my neck, fingers sliding into my hair as he pressed closer, and my heart shuddered. I could feel his body towering over mine, the way the muscles in his biceps shifted when his fingers slid closer around my hand, his warm chest pressing against mine -

Heat twinged low in my stomach, and my fingers curled against his chest.

A gentle shudder ran over Rhys' warm skin, and my breath hitched when he dipped his head to the side, his nose brushing against mine.

My heart rose into my throat, and I swallowed, my hand uncurling slowly as I slid my palm down his chest. I could feel his muscles tensing under my touch as a shiver ran over his skin, his fingers twisting into my hair, and a tingle travelled down my spine when Rhys slowly nudged his nose against mine.

Something dropped very low in my stomach, heat rising up my body.

I swallowed, my free hand rising to cling to Rhys' side, and when I pulled my head back a little, just enough to look at him, his breath grazing my skin, my heart rose.

Rhys' eyes were glazed over with a heat that made something twist in my stomach. His iris was hazy and a few shades darker under heavy lids, a muscle in his jaw shifting and throat working, and his gaze was molten where it was glued to my lips.

My breath caught in my throat.

Even when Rhys had stared for too long before, something heated in his eyes, it had always been brimming under the surface, never quite so obvious.

Now, nothing was hidden. His breath was uneven, his lips parted and throat working, and his eyes, heavy lidded and dark, were swirling, feverish, wanting -

Rhys' fingers curled into my hair, and my body shuddered, something whirling and rising under my ribs as I dug my fingers into his skin and raised my chin without having control over it, Rhys' hot breath grazing over my skin when my nose nudged against his.

A deep sound rose in Rhys' chest, his eyes shifting into something even deeper and darker, and his hand slid into my hair when he dipped his head, his nose brushing against the side of mine, tantalizingly slow. Something clenched harshly in my stomach when I felt his hot breath grazing my lips, and a tingling shiver ran down my spine when I sank back down onto my heels and Rhys followed me, calloused hands pulling me closer and head dipping to -

"Hello?", a melodious, happy voice chirped from the terrace, and my heart jumped; my eyes flew open as I lightly pushed at Rhys' chest and whirled around, and Mor walked through the open window doors.

"Anyone he-", her gaze met mine, and she slowed to a stop, one corner of her lips quirking cheekily.

"Am I interrupting something?"

My heart missed a beat, and I hastily looked back over my shoulder, only to find Rhys' eyes on me like maybe, they had never left. There was a twinkle slowly spreading through his iris, and my heart rose in a flutter, because something had changed, obviously, something in that thrum against my ribs, and yet -

I narrowed my eyes in a soft glower, and Rhys slowly started to smile, lazy and brilliant.

"What are you doing here, Morrigan?" His deep voice rumbled through me even with him a foot away, his twinkling eyes never leaving my face.

Mor crunched her brows, seeming completely unbothered as she turned in a circle with a flourish.

"Well, you hadn't even told us this place existed until yesterday, and -", she looked over her shoulder, smiling brightly, "I was curious." Her twinkling amber eyes found mine, and her smile softened, though the light in her eyes seemed to brighten. "It's beautiful."

Something rose under my chest as my gaze flickered towards the garden without me being able to help it, my breath catching in my throat. "It is."

I could feel the weight of eyes on me, a tingle travelling over the side of my face, and I blinked, clearing my throat and grinning sheepishly at Mor. "Sorry, I didn't really expect anyone -"

"Obviously." Mor's lips twitched into a smirk as her eyes moved from Rhys, lounging against the counter in only pyjama pants and staring at me, towards my long nightgown, and I winced and quickly crossed my bare arms in front of my chest, feeling heat rising in my cheeks as I crunched my nose.

"Would you like some tea?"

"You know, actually,", Mor turned fully towards me and raised her brows, "I also came here because I thought it could be fun if I showed you the city today?" Her lips twitched, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Have some one on one time, if Rhys isn't too bothered by that." She winked at me.

"Why would I be bothered?" Rhys' eyes stayed on my face, one corner of his lips curving upwards.

"Well, you did keep her from us for more than a century, without telling us about her even once; which, by the way, is ridiculous." Mor's lips curved. "It's almost like you were afraid we'd steal her away from you or something -"

"Could we get breakfast?", I quickly interrupted, because Rhys' eyes had started to twinkle in a way that made shivers dance down my spine and something twitch in my stomach.

Mor turned her gaze away from Rhys, her knowing smirk bleeding into a genuine, beaming smile when she widened her eyes.

"Obviously! I'll show you all the best places, and more; do you have your dress yet?"

I blinked, then I turned my head towards her and crunched my brows.

"What dress?"

Mor parted her lips. Then she sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes, turning towards her cousin with an exasperated look.

"Rhys, you prat; you haven't told her?"

Rhys stared at me, his violet eyes twinkling when he said, deep voice absentminded: "Was busy."

Mor huffed, her lips quirking. "I bet you were."

Rhys just lightly rolled his eyes, and I quickly mouthed prat?, causing him to glare softly at me.

Don´t you dare.

Feeling a slow, beaming smile take over my face, I widened my eyes and mouthed prat, and Rhys huffed, his lips curving until a wide grin made his cheeks crease.

Mor cleared her throat, and I quickly tore my eyes away from Rhys' face, feeling heat bleed into my cheeks when my gaze met Morrigan's, her eyes twinkling knowingly.

"Haven't told me what?", I said quickly, bouncing on the balls of my feet lightly and fighting against the blush growing on my face.

Mor sighed, but her lips curved as she raised her brows. "Summer Solstice."

My heart rose in a flutter, and my gaze darted towards Rhys as my lips parted.

"You - you celebrate that here?"

"Well, not as opulently as Summer and Day,", Mor waved her hand dismissingly, "but Rhys has started throwing a party every year still, because, well -", she smirked, "any excuse for a party is a good one."

Rhys' lips curved softly as his eyes pierced mine, a twinkle in their violet depths that made my breath hitch.

"Anyway, he holds it at the River House -"

I blinked before raising my brows.

"Another house?" I felt my eyes widen slightly as my head whipped around and I stared at Mor before quickly looking back at Rhys in disbelief, but he just shrugged, his smirk feline.

"Well, when we started doing the celebration, we decided to hold it there because the garden is just beautiful this time of year, though,", Mor turned to look over her shoulder, her eyes almost wistful, "definitely not as beautiful as this one."

My breath hitched as my gaze followed hers, and something fluttered against my ribs.

"The longest day of the year."

Rhys' voice made my heart dip, quiet like only I was meant to hear, and I blinked before tearing my eyes away from the garden, something rising in my chest when I found his twinkling eyes on my face.

"I know." I felt my lips curve softly even as I suppressed the urge to swallow, my eyes moving over his face. "The fairies dance through it; all night long."

Rhys' gaze pierced mine, deep, twinkling, like maybe, he could see the memories of midsummer nights in a wild garden and a dress whirling around my ankles.

"Maybe they'll dance with us if you're there."

I stared at him, and my heart began to slowly flutter against my ribs, more wildly with every second as I started to smile slowly.

"Is that your way of asking if I'll come?"

Rhys stared at me, something swirling in his eyes when he mumbled, slow, deep, steady: "Will you come?"

My breath caught in my throat, and I blinked. Then I widened my eyes and whispered cheekily: "I don't think I have a dress."

Rhys' gaze heated. But before he could open his mouth, Mor chimed in, beaming happily.

"We can get you one! Today; I mean, it is in two days, but I'll take you to the best dressmaker of the city, you'll love it; and she'll have it done in time!"

I felt my lips part quickly, but before I could even make a sound, there was a soft huff; a familiar scent washed over me, and fingers slipped under my chin, closing my mouth again.

"Don't even think about it."

My heart jumped and my eyes darted up, and Rhys' lips curved.

I huffed and twisted my neck to get a better look at him, feeling my brows crunch in protest, but Rhys just sent me a wink. "You know arguing is pointless. I´ll get you a dress one way or the other."

Glowering up at him even as something jumped high in my chest, I narrowed my eyes even further when he smirked and dipped his head to mumble: "Just say thank you."

His warm breath brushed over my nose, and my heart dipped.

Staring up at him, I scowled gently. Then I turned my head and sent Mor a brilliant, cheeky smile. "Thank you, Mor."

Rhys huffed, sending me a glare, and Mor smirked and winked.

"My pleasure." She raised her brows and clapped her hands. "Alright, let's go! Though you,", her lips quirked, "might want to get changed first."

When I moved back down the stairs a few minutes later, dressed and tying off my braid, Mor was crouched in the middle of the garden, watching the faeries that seemed a little weary but curious when she beamed at them.

"You know she's going to put you through trying on dozens of dresses?"

My heart skipped, and my gaze darted towards where Rhys was leaning against the counter, a steaming cup of tea in his hand and one corner of his lips curving as his eyes raked over my face.

"So?" I felt my lips quirk.

Rhys' iris twinkled.

"A lot of it will be Night Court fashion." His gaze dragged slowly over my body, one corner of his lips curving into a slow, lazy smirk. "It usually means little fabric."

I stared at him as heat pooled low in my stomach, and suddenly, something started fluttering against my ribs violently.

Slowly, I began to walk backwards towards the terrace, sending him a growing, mischievous smile.

"You know, if you want to see me scantily clad, you just have to ask."

Rhys' gaze darted up, his gaze narrowing in and growing dark and heated, and feeling my heart catch in my throat, I smiled beamingly and turned around with a breathed laugh, hopping out onto the terrace to meet Mor at the foot of the steps.

☆

Feeling a breeze brush some hair into my face, I breathed out softly, the warmth of sunlight dappled over my face making my lips curve without my doing.

"So..."

I blinked before opening my eyes and lowering my head, and Mor crunched her nose, looking at me curiously. "What's so special about Summer Solstice?"

We were sitting on the steps of a fountain, the water splashing and bubbling in our backs, a thin paper bag between us on the grey cobblestone, smelling of the buttery pastry I had bought in a shop in one of the countless alleys.

Mor had kept her promise, taking me for breakfast in a small café right at the Sidra. Then she had pulled me into the maze of alleys, streets and squares.

First, she'd taken me to the workshop of her favorite dressmaker, located in a beautiful townhouse in the Rainbow, the artist's district. It belonged to tall, slim High Fae who was clearly familiar with Morrigan, and who had, very happily, pulled all the stops when Mor had winked at her.

Mor had made me try different silhouettes, and I had wandered the aisles and aisles with fabrics, my breath catching at the colors and stitchings. We'd agreed after a while, and when we had left the shop, there'd been a rough sketch and fabric sitting on the dressmaker's desk and my heart had been beating against my throat.

Now, the afternoon sun was shining in the sky over the small park that stretched over a little hill surrounded by tall sandstone buildings, their roofs glittering in the light. Trees rose into the sky, offering shade, sunlight was dappled in swaying patterns onto the grass and the cool stone of the fountain where we had decided to take a little break, and my feet were aching and my heart was full.

I needed a second to tear my eyes away from the sight of the city stretched out before the mountains. Then I blinked and crunched my brows, looking over at her.

"What do you mean?"

One corner of Mor's lips curved gently. "You just... you looked so surprised."

I felt my heart rise in a soft flutter against my ribs, and I hesitated for a second, then I turned my head and gently narrowed my eyes at her curiously.

"How long have you been... celebrating it like this?"

Mor furrowed her brows, shrugging softly as she plucked a piece off her pastry.

"Not long actually. I think Rhys decided to make it a new tradition not quite a century ago, fairly out of,", she blinked, her words slowing as her eyes suddenly began to twinkle softly, "thin air..."

I stared at her, a quick flutter beginning to build in my chest.

"What does it mean to you again?" Mor stared at me, her lips curving.

"It's..." I swallowed softly. "It's a celebration. Held by the fairies, every Summer Solstice. They gather and dance, from evening until deep into the night. All of them, sprites, pixies, nymphs, wraiths, all coming together, celebrating light and life and -" My breath hitched. "Magic."

Mor's warm eyes were glittering.

"You think he -" My voice broke off, my breath catching in my throat.

"Started celebrating it here because of you?" Mor's lips tipped upwards, and she blinked and raised an eyebrow, her eyes twinkling in the light. "That does sound awfully like him."

Feeling my heart pounding against my ribs, I stared at her, something suddenly tingling in my stomach.

Mor's smile widened a little. Then she blinked.

"You know, he never told us about you." She raised a brow, her iris sparkling. "Not once."

I huffed gently.

"I know." Shaking my head softly, I turned my head, crunching my brows gently as I blinked into the sunlight. "He told me about that, after I got mad because he turned up, winnowing in even though he was badly wounded and exhausted,", a breath left me, "idiot."

Mor giggled, and I felt my lips curve.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Mor's gaze flicker over my face, warm and bright. Her throat worked. Then she whispered softly: "Thank you."

I blinked. Something in my chest rose and tightened as my gaze darted towards her, and Mor breathed out, her smile a little uneven when she stared back at me.

"I've known Rhys practically my whole life." She furrowed her brows gently, her eyes swimming with emotion. "He's always carried - a lot of weight on his shoulders, and it just got more when he became High Lord. He always took on everything, had to be strong, for everyone. He lets us know when things are heavy, but - he never fully lets us in." She huffed. "He doesn't want to burden us." Shaking her head gently, she hesitated before looking over at me, one corner of her lips rising gently.

"But then he started disappearing, just for a few hours, sometimes more, sometimes less. He never told us where he was going;", she raised her brows, "I always assumed he was just - taking a breather somewhere, taking some time by himself. But whenever he got back, he had that light in his eyes." Her iris started to twinkle as she stared at me.

"That was you." She blinked, her voice a little hoarse when she whispered: "You saved him. Because you saw something in him he lost the ability to see. And because when you showed him that, he believed you. Because he saw something in you too. That same thing that makes him stare at you like you put the stars into the sky." She swallowed gently, and her eyes flickered over my face. "It's like with you, he can just be."

My breath caught in my throat as I stared at her, something suddenly tight in my chest.

"He told you all of that?", I whispered.

Mor's lips quirked gently.

"Not everything. But enough." Her gaze flickered over my face. "He told us about you only after he came back from -" She broke off, her eyes welling with grief. Then she looked back up at me, her iris shimmering as she raised a corner of her lips.

"He was - a wreck, when he got here. But you - you kept him afloat. He was waiting for you. It felt like he was holding his breath. And then you turned up and..." She breathed a brilliant smile. "I've never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you."

My heart rose against my ribs, and Mor sniffled and beamed. "It's like he's come back to life, in a way he's never been before. Like something has - settled, fallen into place."

Something welled over in my chest, and I turned my gaze ahead, fighting to swallow against the pressure in my throat as I stared down the hill and over the roofs of the city, glittering in the sun, trees swaying gently in the breeze.

"Yes,", I whispered.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Mor's gaze move over my face, bright and warm. Then she turned back ahead as well, and together, we stared over the city.

"It's beautiful,", I mumbled softly.

Mor´s lips curved upwards, her voice a little hoarse when she mumbled back: "It's the Court of Dreams."

☆

The sun was disappearing beyond the mountains, painting the skies pink and violet, the first stars twinkling high above when I slipped through the gate and breathed in the scent of flowers and grass and warm evening air.

Mor had dropped me off at the winding street before winnowing away, though not before pulling me into a hug so tight, my ribs had cracked, but I had just squeezed her back, feeling the scent of her perfume rising into my nose and her hair tickling my skin.

Slowly making my way around the house, I inhaled deeply, feeling warmth spread through my chest when I saw fairies whizzing through the air over the pond, giggling and chasing each other.

"You took your time."

My heart rose against my ribs, and Rhys, lounging on the steps leading up to the terrace, watched me, his violet eyes reflecting the stars blinking in the sky when he lightly raised a brow. "I was starting to think you'd forgotten about me, leaving me here all by myself -"

A soft snorted laugh built in my chest, and I sent him a cheeky grin. "I'm sure you were perfectly fine entertaining yourself for once."

"I wasn't. I got so bored I actually went to do some work."

Giggling softly, I gently kicked his leg before plopping down next to him, breathing in deeply. His scent rose into my lungs, and my heart missed a beat.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Rhys' twinkling iris flicker over my face. "Did Mor drag you from shop to shop until you fainted from exhaustion?"

I crunched my brows and looked over at him. "Why, do you think I look the part?"

Rhys' lips curved.

"Did you find a dress?" His gaze drank me in as a crease formed in his cheek, and I stared back, my breath catching and my heart thrumming against my ribs.

"Yes." My voice was a little soft, a little breathless as I tried not to stare at the curve of Rhys' lips and the small dip in his cheek, his skin glowing in the sunset.

"And?" His voice trickled over me, slow, deep, matching the volume of mine as his gaze dragged over my face, heated, swirling.

I felt my lips tick up as I shrugged one shoulder gently, innocently. "And what?"

Rhys stared at me, his arm brushing against my back, sending tingling shivers down my body, and slowly, one corner of his lips curved. "Where is it?"

I huffed softly. "Not yet made."

"Shame." Rhys' eyes were twinkling. "You could let me take a peak."

I widened my eyes and whispered with a bright, cheeky smile: "Where's the fun in that?"

Rhys slowly started to smile brilliantly, his eyes crinkling, and my breath caught in my throat.

For a second, we stared at each other, something trumming in my chest and twisting in my stomach, then Rhys blinked, his eyes never leaving mine as he mumbled: "I think I might have to take the couch tonight."

I could feel my brows crunch in confusion. "Why?"

A deep crease formed in Rhys' cheek, his iris twinkling as his gaze dragged over my face. "Because I'm not sure I would be able to control myself if I saw you in that flimsy nightgown again."

My heart dipped, and suddenly, something hot trickled down my spine.

"I could leave it off."

Rhys' iris hazed over, a rough sound breaking from his throat, and I hastily bit onto the inside of my cheek as a laugh bubbled in my chest, mixing with a rising, fluttering feeling.

"Beast,", Rhys mumbled, his husky voice leaving something twisting down in my stomach.

I shrugged, feeling my lips curve as I turned my gaze back towards the garden. "I mean, if you can't handle it -"

Rhys' gaze narrowed in on my face, became deep and twinkling, and something toppled in my chest as I nearly bit down onto my lip, wondering what on earth I had been thinking.

Swallowing it down, I looked over my shoulder, and Rhys stared at me, gaze molten and dark as slowly, a slight smirk made his lips curve, playful and mischievous.

"Is that a challenge, darling?"

My breath caught in my throat, and my heart swerved sharply.

I blinked, then I shrugged softly, smiling back cheekily. "I don't know, is it?"

Rhys breathed a deep chuckle and leaned forward, and I felt myself freeze when his warm breath brushed over my lips. Then he gently nudged his nose against the side of mine and mumbled, his lips almost brushing my cheek: "Careful." He pulled back just enough to stare at me, his violet iris reflecting the sky as they dragged over mine, twinkling. "I don't lose."

"First time for everything,", I whispered back breathily, feeling my heart rise into my throat, and Rhys slowly started to smile.

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @stayinglow-exploringworlds @tcris2020 @lizziesfirstwife

@brandywineeeee @t0uch-starved-h0e @sharknutz @valencia-rou

@twsssmlmaa @waytoomanyteenagefeels @luvmoo @starrybeesandlibraries

@corvusmorte @marmorjorts @bubnix @wallacewillow0773638

@ailyr92 @azrielshadows1nger @secretlyhers @icey--stars

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[harryspurpleloofah]

I am not sure if you have seen the performance Harry did at MSG with Kacey Musgraves ("You're Still The One" by Shania Twain), but I would love a one-shot based off of something like that. Maybe the reader is also a singer and she and Harry have been secretly dating and that song is how they announce their relationship? And, of course, I would love for it to be smutty if you feel it. I LOVED "Elevator" and I am about to go and read "A Taste of You Instead".

Hii! Thanks so much for requesting I’d love to write this for you! As a massive Shania Twain fan I loved this show too I’ve seen it and LOVED it. Thanks for reading my work let me know what you think of a taste of you instead 💜 if anyone else has any requests would love to take more

Still The One

(Picture is not mine)

Summary: Harry and Y/N have been dating for a while now but the public has never picked up on it since they e been successful at keeping it low key. One day though Harry and Y/N plan a surprise for their fans at MSG.

TW: swearing, smut, p in v sex but reader is on birth control, nipple play, tit sucking, clit stimulation

The hum of the crowd echoed from the arena beyond, a low, electric thrum that seemed to vibrate through Harry’s chest. He sat on the edge of the couch in his dressing room, pulling on his boots and adjusting his jacket, though his mind wasn’t entirely on the preparations. His thoughts kept drifting to the moment that was fast approaching—the moment everything would change.

His phone buzzed on the table in front of him. He didn’t even need to look at the screen to know who it was. A grin tugged at his lips as he reached for it, his fingers swiping to answer before it could ring again.

“Hey, you ready?”

Her voice was warm and familiar, with a hint of teasing. He could practically picture her, her smile lighting up even over the phone.

“Yeah I’m ready. But I was just making sure you are. You still in?” Harry asked, trying to mask the slight edge of nerves that had crept in.

“Of course,” she replied with that same confident ease that made his heart race every time he heard it. “I’m almost there. Five minutes tops.”

He let out a slow breath, leaning back against the couch as he ran a hand through his hair. “You sure? No backing out now.”

She laughed, the sound low and knowing. “Are you nervous, Haz?”

“Not nervous.” He paused, glancing down at his phone and the growing list of messages and show notes. “Just...figuring out how this is going to go.”

There was a soft chuckle on the other end, and then her voice softened. “You know we’ve been planning this for months, right? It’s just a song, Harry. And it’s ours.”

His heart thudded at the words. Their song. The one they’d practiced in private, their secret duet that would be unveiled for the world to see. He rubbed his thumb over the phone’s screen as if he could touch her through the distance.

“I know. I’m just...” He shook his head, a quiet laugh escaping his lips. “You’re a lot braver than I am.”

“That’s debatable,” she replied. “But don’t worry. I’ll be there in five.”

“See you then. Love you.”

“Love you more. Bye.”

With the call ending, Harry stood up and walked to the mirror, adjusting his jacket one last time. His reflection stared back at him confident and ready for the show of a lifetime. But tonight wasn’t just about the music. Tonight was about her, about them finally stepping into the spotlight, together.

He stepped away from the mirror and turned toward the door. His pulse quickened at the thought of her walking in, her face lighting up as she stepped onto the stage, and how in just a few hours, the whole world would know.

The energy in Madison Square Garden was electric. Harry’s voice still lingered in the air as the final notes of his last song faded out, the crowd still roaring from the performance. He stood center stage, bathed in the golden light of the spotlight, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips as he took a moment to collect himself. The audience's excitement was palpable, the adrenaline of the show still buzzing through him.

He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, catching his breath, before leaning into the mic. The crowd quieted, the anticipation building in the air like static.

“Alright, alright, thank you so much,” Harry said, his voice warm and steady, yet carrying the hint of something personal, something more intimate. “It’s been an incredible tour so far, and I’ve had the pleasure of sharing the stage with some amazing people.”

He paused, glancing down at his shoes as he chose his words carefully. The crowd, sensing something was coming, leaned in a little closer. Harry smiled softly, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he looked up. “But there’s one person I’ve been lucky enough to share this whole experience with… someone who’s very special to me.”

The murmur of curiosity rippled through the crowd, but Harry wasn’t ready to give it all away just yet. His gaze flickered towards the side of the stage, where you were just about to step out, your silhouette barely visible behind the curtains.

“I’m not going to give too much away,” he continued, his tone light, teasing. “But she’s an incredible talent, someone I respect deeply. We’ve spent a lot of time together on and off the stage, and I couldn’t be more excited for you all to finally see her.”

Harry’s gaze softened, a hint of affection in his smile. He cleared his throat before continuing. “So, without further ado...please welcome someone who is incredibly important to me, and someone who I’m beyond proud to have here with me tonight. Please give it up for the very talented, Y/N!”

The lights shifted, and the crowd erupted into applause as she stepped out onto the stage. As she walked toward him, Harry couldn’t help but smile. It was more than just the crowd’s reaction that made his heart race, it was the sight of her, stepping into the light beside him. The moment they’d been waiting for, where their secret was no longer a secret, and everything they shared would be known to the world.

She took his hand as she joined him on stage, her fingers brushing against his, the familiar warmth of her touch calming the fluttering in his chest. The cheers from the audience were deafening, but Harry couldn’t hear anything over the sound of his own heartbeat thumping in his ears. He squeezed her hand, trying to steady himself.

“You ready?” he asked, his voice low, only for her to hear.

She gave him a soft smile, her eyes full of warmth and confidence. “Course I am.”

And with that, they began to sing.

The familiar chords of "You're Still the One" filled the air, and for the first time, the entire world knew what had been hidden for so long. The connection between them was undeniable. Their voices blended together effortlessly, each note coming from a place of shared history, of countless hours spent together behind the scenes, rehearsing, laughing, and just being.

As they sang the chorus, Harry’s hand found hers once more, their fingers lacing together as they shared the mic. The crowd’s applause had faded into the background, the world shrinking down to just the two of them.

Her heart raced as she looked at him, her eyes meeting his for just a moment, the weight of everything they had hidden suddenly feeling so light. This was their truth. And in that moment, everything felt perfect.

“Thanks so much for having me tonight!” She shouted in the mic over the deafening cheers of the crowd, “I’ll leave you to it.”, she said to Harry with a smile before putting the mic on the stand and waving goodbye as well as blowing kisses to the people of the arena before disappearing backstage.

"Alright, alright," he said, his voice warm and light. "I know, I know…it’s a lot to take in, huh?" His grin widened, and the audience laughed, the tension lifting just a little. "But before we go on, I just want to take a minute. I know some of you might be a little…surprised, but I need to say this."

"Y/N and I have been together for a while now," he started, his voice steady and filled with affection. "We’ve kept it private for reasons that I’m sure most of you can understand, but the thing is…she means the world to me. More than I could ever really put into words."

He let out a small breath, “I’m not here to overshare or get all mushy on you, but I do want to ask one thing, and it’s important to me..please, show her the same respect and kindness that you’ve shown me over the years.”

The audience seemed to soak in his words, the mood shifting from one of curiosity to understanding. Harry smiled, his heart swelling with the quiet, simple truth of what he was saying.

“She’s an incredible person, and I’m so lucky to have her by my side. I just want you all to know that. It’s not any of her fault that she’s dating me and I am who I am and my life comes with some amazing perks that I am so so thankful for. But I think you can all guess there’s a bit of an ugly side to it as well and I don’t want her to see any of that just for the mistake of dating me.”

The crowd had settled down slightly now and fortunately it looked like most if not all of them were understanding what Harry was saying, some nods and cheers accompanying his little speech about her. He smiled before continuing.

“I would like to again remind you all to remember that everyone is a person even celebrities, and we thank you so much for all the love that’s been given to us on your part but we also request that you please don’t make judgements about anyone before knowing hem personally. Thank you so much.”

The crowd cheered along in agreement, a few people already cooing and recording the speech he was making.

“Right enough of the sap we’ve got a show to put on people!”, he grinned widely as the crowd roared for him. He gestured to his band to start playing, “Now Madison Square Garden I’ve got a great song for you so up on your feet and sing along if you know the words it’s Kiwi!”

The thunderous applause was still echoing in Harry’s ears as he walked off the stage, his heart racing from the sheer energy of the performance. His face was flushed, his curls damp with sweat, but he couldn’t stop smiling. The show had been a success, and more importantly, the weight of their secret was finally gone.

He pulled the towel from around his neck and wiped his face as he made his way through the bustling backstage area. His mind was set on finding her, his grounding presence, his partner in everything. And then he saw her.

Y/N stood near his dressing room, her arms crossed casually, but her face lit up the moment their eyes met. She looked radiant, still riding the adrenaline of being on stage with him, and the sight of her made his chest tighten in the best way.

“There you are,” he said, his voice low and filled with warmth as he approached her. He tossed the towel onto a nearby chair and opened his arms, pulling her into a tight embrace.

She melted into him, her hands resting against his back. “You were amazing,” she murmured, her voice muffled slightly against his chest.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his hands resting on her hips. “We were amazing,” he corrected with a grin. “Couldn’t have done it without you. Seriously, I mean that.”

She shook her head with a laugh. “You’re the one who had them in the palm of your hand all night. I was just along for the ride.”

Harry tilted his head, his gaze soft but unwavering. “You’re not just along for the ride, love. You’re the best part of it.”

Her breath caught at his words, and for a moment, the noise of the world around them seemed to fade. Harry reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his thumb lingering against her cheek.

“I feel so relieved.”

Her smile softened, and she nodded. “Me too. It’s a relief, you know? Finally being able to just…be.”

He studied her face for a moment, his gaze dropping to her lips. “Feels fucking good,” he murmured. His hand slid to her hip, tugging her a little closer, and his voice dropped lower. “You know what else feels good? Watching you out there, in that dress, singing like that…”

She gave him a teasing look. “Harry, you can’t keep it in your pants for one night?”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Nope. Not when you look like that.” His hand wandered, brushing along the small of her back, then down to her ass. He gave it a light squeeze, his lips twitching into a smirk when she gasped. “I’ve been thinking about this since soundcheck. You know what you do to me, don’t you?”

“Harry,” she hissed “Someone could see us.”

“Let them,” he shot back, his voice low and thick. “We’re not hiding anymore, remember?”

Her breath hitched when he pressed her back against the wall, his lips ghosting over her jawline. “You’ve been driving me mad all night,” he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. “You think I’m just gonna walk away after that?”

Her fingers curled into his shirt, her resolve slipping with every word. “You’re so annoying.”

“And you love it,” he said with a grin before finally capturing her lips in a slow, filthy kiss. His hands roamed freely now, sliding over her hips, her ass, pulling her against him so she could feel exactly what she was doing to him.

She moaned softly into his mouth, her hands tangling in his sweaty curls. “We should..probably go somewhere else,” she mumbled against his lips, though her grip on him didn’t loosen.

“Mm,” he hummed, trailing kisses down her neck. “Couldn’t wait that long if I tried.”

But he pulled back to grab her hand. “C’mon. Dressing room. Now.”

Her heart raced as he led her inside, shutting the door behind them with a click. His eyes were dark when he turned back to her, and the way he walked toward her, his shirt already half-unbuttoned, sent a thrill straight through her.

“Now,” he said, his voice rough, “where were we?”

She let out a gasp when his hands slid up her sides, slipping under her dress to grip her thighs. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as he pressed her back against the wall of the dressing room.

“You looked so fucking good out there,” he continued, his lips dragging along her jaw and down to her neck. “This dress…every time you moved, I couldn’t stop thinking about what’s underneath.”

“Harry,” she breathed, her voice shaky but edged with want. Her hands moved to his chest, fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. She couldn’t focus enough to undo them properly—not with the way his mouth was working on her skin, his teeth scraping lightly before soothing the sting with his tongue.

“Hmm?” he hummed, the sound vibrating against her throat. “What is it, love? Want me to stop?”

“No! Fuck-don’t,” she shot back, her words more confident than she felt

He grinned against her neck, his hands sliding higher until they were just under the curve of her ass. “Alright love.”

With a firm grip, he lifted her off the ground, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. The move sent her dress riding up her thighs, and the friction of his trousers against her bare skin made her gasp. He carried her over to the couch in the corner of the room, sitting down with her straddling him.

The position gave him full access, and he wasted no time letting his hands wander, slipping under the thin straps of her dress to push them off her shoulders. She helped him along, her breathing shallow.

“Fuck,” he groaned, leaning back slightly to take her in. His hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, and the way her back arched into his touch made his cock throb against the tight confines of his underwear.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he muttered, his eyes dark as they flicked up to meet hers, “you’re on the pill right?”

“Yeah-yeah I am.”

She reached down, her fingers deftly working to undo his belt. He helped her along, lifting his hips just enough to shove his trousers down, his boxers quickly following.

Her eyes dropped to him, her lips parting as she took him in. Harry’s breath hitched at the look on her face, and he couldn’t stop himself from leaning up to kiss her again, rougher.

“Come here,” he whispered, his hands gripping her hips as he helped her lift herself over him. The anticipation made his head spin, and when she finally sank down onto him, both of them let out matching groans.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he muttered, his hands gripping her tighter as he tried to stay still and give her a moment to adjust. But she didn’t wait, her hands braced on his shoulders as she began to move, slow and deliberate at first.

The way she rolled her hips had him biting his lip to hold back a string of curses. “You’re gonna kill me,” he said, his voice strained.

Her response was a breathy moan, her nails digging into his shoulders as she picked up the pace. The room filled with the sound of their bodies moving together, her quiet gasps and his low groans mixing in a way that made it impossible to think about anything else.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his hands guiding her movements. “Just like that. Keep going—fuck—you feel so good.”

She leaned forward, her forehead resting against his as she moved faster, the pleasure building between them. “Harry,” she whimpered, her voice barely audible over the sound of their heavy breathing.

His mouth was on her then, hot and wet as he sucked her nipple into his mouth.

“Fuck,” she gasped, her back arching as his teeth grazed her. The other breast wasn’t neglected for long, his free hand kneaded it, his thumb circling her nipple while his tongue flicked over the other.

“Always so good for me,” he murmured against her skin, his lips moving to the curve of her breast before sucking another mark into her flesh.

His fingers found her clit. He rubbed slow, deliberate circles, watching her face closely as her head fell back and her mouth parted.

“Harry,” she whimpered, her hips bucking against his hand.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured, his lips finding her neck again.

With the combination of his finger rubbing her clit and his cock sliding in and out if her again and again, she found it easy to let go for him. She came with a guttural moan and he soon followed suit.

They stayed like that for a moment, tangled together on the couch, their heavy breaths the only sound in the small room. Harry’s forehead rested against Y/N’s, his hands lazily tracing patterns on her back as they came down from the high.

“Still with me, love?” he asked softly, a teasing lilt in his voice as he brushed a damp strand of hair from her face.

She gave a breathless laugh, her lips curling into a satisfied smile. “Barely,” she admitted, her fingers sliding over his chest, tracing the faint lines of his tattoos.

“Good,” he said with a smirk, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Means I’m doing my job.”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile didn’t fade. “Fuck you.”

“Love you too.”

“It feels good, doesn’t it? Finally being able to be us.”

“Better than good,” he said, tilting her chin up so she had to meet his eyes. “Having you out there with me, hearing the crowd cheer for you, knowing we don’t have to hide anymore..it’s everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Her heart swelled at his words, and she leaned in to kiss him softly, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment. When she pulled back, she grinned, her fingers lightly tugging at his messy curls.

Y/N groaned dramatically, burying her face further into his neck. “Don’t wanna move.”

“Neither do I,” he admitted, brushing his nose against her hair. “But I reckon we’ll both feel better getting home. You good enough to slide off me, sweetheart?”

She nodded, sitting up slowly with his hands steadying her hips. He winced slightly as they parted, the loss of her warmth immediate but softened by the sight of her fixing her dress.

He adjusted himself, pulling his boxers and trousers back into place before standing to grab his shirt. As he buttoned it up, he glanced over at her, catching the soft smile she sent his way.

He grabbed his car keys from the side table, “get dressed baby honey we’ll go home.”

She stretched but soon got up and put on her clothes. That night they got home and enjoyed each other’s company to the fullest along with Legally Blonde, two cups of hot chocolate and a beautiful atmosphere of relief and warmth.

[shadowdaddies]

Could I request a smutty Rhys x reader? Reader and him have had a stressful week and they haven’t been able to have time to each other where it didn’t involve work and he finds reader taking a bath at the moonstone palace and he joins her? Just gentle bath sex with softdom! Rhys🫡🫡

I’m very sad we didn’t see a lot of the moonstone palace in the books. I fucking loved that place. I have to many smutty ideas involving that palace and I might send them through to you eventually lol 🫡

the Moonstone Palace is probably where I'd want to live in acotar tbh, like quiet with beautiful views and magicked to stay warm? yes please. thanks for the request, love💜

Mountain Views

Rhys x Reader smut

Warnings: smut below the cut, oral f!receving, overstimulation, praise kink (holla), p in v sex, minors dni, not proofread

With a content exhale, you settled into the warm water of the tub. It was your first opportunity to relax in weeks, and you made the most of it, lighting candles and filling the bathwater with rose petals and scented oils. The only way that the moment could be better is if your mate was there to relax with you. The most comfort you could find in your life was when Rhysand was by your side, providing a warmth that went beyond physical. 

You leaned over the edge of the pool-sized bathtub, admiring the view of the snowcapped mountains while you sipped on a glass of wine. The Moonstone Palace was the perfect place to get away when you were in need of peace and quiet, its openness allowing you to feel at one with nature while the magic kept you warm inside. You smiled to yourself as you gazed at the stars, so visible from your secluded haven.

The sound of a door clicking open inside brought you out of your daze, the faint smell of citrus and rain filling your senses as you heard the soft footfalls of your mate approaching. You turned away from the view of the mountains to find a better one - Rhysand stood before you, biting his lip as he took in your naked form as he removed his own shirt. You set your glass of wine to the side, leaning against the far edge of the bath as you lifted yourself slightly from the water, giving Rhys a better view of your chest dripping with water. You winked at him as you purred, “care to join me, my love?” 

Rhys let out a soft laugh, already removing his pants and stepping into the water. “Oh darling, I have plans for what I’d like to do to you.” He stood in front of you, taking your glass of wine to drink from it himself as he stared at you appreciatively, trailing his other hand slowly up your waist, over your breast, stopping to lightly hold your throat as he tilted your chin up with his thumb. He polished off the wine, setting it down to bring his hand to your waist, pulling you fully against him where you could feel his hard arousal against you. 

Rhys leaned down to kiss you, grinding his length against you to elicit a gasp from you that allowed him to slip his tongue through your lips, rolling it in tandem with his hips. He pulled away, moving his hand from your throat to wrap around your hair as he moved his other hand to pat your leg, urging you jump. You obeyed, wrapping your legs around him as Rhys brought his lips to your neck. “Good girl,” he murmured against your skin, kissing and sucking your neck, leaving a bruising mark on your pulse point as he walked the two of you to the side of the bath, lifting you out of the water to sit on the edge. 

Taking your wrists in his hands, Rhys lifted them above your head. “Keep those up there,” he purred, gently pushing you to lay down against the tile floor. The contrast of the cool tile to the heat of the water made you gasp, writhing against Rhys’s hold as he spread your legs open. Rhys tutted, “stay still, darling, if you want to be rewarded.” You quickly righted yourself, biting your lip as you gave your best effort to stay how he’d positioned you. 

Rhys chuckled darkly, “good girl.” He traced his fingertips along your inner thighs, causing you to clench, gasping as you struggled to stay still underneath him. Rhys lowered his head, pressing a soft kiss against your clit, earning a whimper from you. “Rhys, love, please touch me,” you whispered, slightly wiggling your hips in his hold. He kissed your clit again, this time latching on to suck softly as you mewled at the touch. “As my mate wishes,” he purred before diving in. Rhys sucked and licked your clit with fervor, pinning your hips to the tile as he dipped his tongue inside of you, his nose brushing against your bud as he did so. You were a moaning mess beneath him when he finally moved his mouth back to your clit, bringing up two fingers to curl inside you as he worked you at a brutal pace. You reached your high quickly, screaming his name as he continued his abuse on your pussy. Your legs were shaking as you came down from your high, Rhys still sucking your clit as he added a third finger. 

You gasped, trying to push his hands away. “Fuck, Rhys, it’s too much,” you gasped at the overstimulation. Rhys didn’t let up, instead murmuring against your clit, “I told you to keep those hands above your head, darling. Give me one more, I know you have it in you.” He curled his fingers against your walls as he licked your clit, tongue flicking back and forth in a wicked way that had you convulsing beneath him as you reached your second orgasm of the night. Rhys allowed you to rest a moment, murmuring praises to you as he kissed every part of your body that he could reach. 

You caught your breath just as Rhys’s hands travelled to your waist. “Are you ready for me, darling?” You nodded, sitting up as Rhys helped you back into the water, your legs wrapped around his waist as he moved the two of you back over to the edge of the bath and turned you around. You were again taking in the beautiful view of the mountains when Rhys bent you over the edge of the water. “Hold on tight, darling,” he whispered, kissing behind your ear as he slid into you. You both moaned at the sensation, Rhys waiting only a moment before he began thrusting into you. You could tell he was holding back, and the both of you needed more after the stressful weeks you’d had. You gripped the edge of the bath as you pleaded, “harder, Rhys, please.” 

He complied immediately, thrusting into you at a pace that had you falling limp in his hold, chanting his name like a prayer as he hit the perfect spot every time. When Rhys brought his hand down to your clit, you immediately unraveled for the third time that evening, screaming for no one but you and the mountains to hear as you fluttered around him. Your orgasm sent Rhys over the edge behind you, moaning your name as he came inside you. 

He pulled you against his chest, littering kisses to your neck and shoulder as he pulled you to the bench in the water where you sat in his lap. You laid your head against his chest, the two of you admiring the view as Rhys kissed your head, the two of you basking in the peaceful moment with each other.

[fleckcmscott]

All Wrapped Up

Summary: Arthur reaches a milestone he'd never dreamed of. Y/N pulls out all the stops.

Words: 4,735

Warnings: Adult situations, Swearing

A/N: This story was a real challenge. Figuring out these characters, their hopes and experiences and dynamics fifteen years later, felt like trying to predict the weather. And I never have an umbrella when I need it! 😂 I hope you all enjoy this piece. Thanks for reading! 💜

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Y/N gave her mouth another good swish-swash-swish and spat in the sink.

Lukewarm water rinsed her Oral-B toothbrush; she it shook off and returned to its charger. She drew a round brush through steely brown locks, a dollop of mousse in the bristles to lend the feathering a touch of fluff.

Three perfume bottles stood on the shelf to her left. She chose the pink tapered oval in the middle, a gift from Arthur called Here's The Heart, the fragrance of daffodils and sunlight and his latest favorite. She dabbed it on her wrists, her collarbone, the pulse point of her neck. Sandy shadow brightened her eyes and rosewine painted her lips, a sultry red saved for special occasions.

Crouched on one knee, she dug out the personal lubricant hidden behind her tampons, which had been on standby for two months. (Alarm had frozen her solid when her monthly had hit six weeks late. But then she'd remembered that at fifty-four, it was to be expected.) She smeared an ounce between her legs. A warmup for both their benefit - and a sure ego boost that'd rev his engine. Make him grin that cocky grin.

Glass of water in hand, she padded out of the bath.

She tiptoed to her side of the bed and set the water on the nightstand. Morning's first light seeped past the edges of the window shades. She gave one a quick but quiet pull, held the bottom bar until it rose halfway.

Soft and gauzy as a favorite dream, sunrays cast a hazy hue on Arthur's pallid skin. A light snore caught in the back of his throat. He lay supine, one hand curled against his breast, the toes of his left foot sticking out from the emerald, blue, and mauve kaleidoscoped comforter. The perfect position for what she had planned.

Biting down a wicked giggle, she shimmied out of her robe and dove under the covers headfirst.

Muted confusion from above. Grumbles and groans. A skinny thigh shifted beneath her palm. She swallowed around him and continued on.

Fingertips patted polyester, as though searching for a flashlight in the dark. At her back, her shoulder, her head.

A squeeze to his sculpted hip, nails a whisper along his v-line...

The comforter lifted, followed by the sheet. Arthur squinted through the crevice. "Christ, you're naked."

The giggle she'd bitten down spilled forth, nose nuzzling at his coarse curls. He grasped her upper arm and tugged.

"What did you expect?" She crawled up his body, lips following a familiar path along his stomach, his chest. "You only turn fifty once. Happy birthday."

"Mmm." In a flash, he grabbed her ass and rolled on top of her. Kissed her softly, then kissed her hardly, mouth swooping to collide with hers. He tasted of stale nicotine and the smell of rust after a rainstorm. She sought to freshen it with her Aquafreshed tongue.

But he broke off, coughed into his elbow. A smoker's cough that'd worsened with the chill of November and the radiator heat that accompanied it. She decided to give him his second present early, right after this gift for them both.

When he stole the water from her nightstand, she narrowed her eyes. "Hey, I was planning on using that."

"I know." Green irises met hers, a direct stare that set the pit of her stomach in a wild swirl. That stare stayed locked on hers as he emptied the glass. Slow, deliberate, his Adam's apple bobbing with each swallow.

She played with the spartan hairs on his chest. "I noticed a couple grey hairs while I was down there. You're officially an old man now."

"You mean I'm finally catching up to you?"

"Uh huh." Her toes ran along his calf. Its muscle twitched. "You're going to start getting flyers from Gotham's Senior League and the Elk's Club."

Amusement crinkled his face, half-lidded eyes enthralling in their relaxed contentment. While his black whiskers had gone white, his sideburns remained sterling, his loose curls cinnamon and sugar. Lines had become faint tattoos on his forehead, and the crevices on his cheeks had grown longer, deeper, framing his thin lips and doubling his dimples. Wrinkles crisscrossed the bottom of his chin, and the fold beneath it was twelve percent squishier.

But he was as alluring as ever. As handsome as the night she'd first lain in this very bed with him.

Desire swelled her heart, a thump-thump that was suddenly ten times louder.

She clutched his shoulders and purred. "Fuck me, old man."

Laughing, he took hold of the headboard.

And took charge.

~~~~~

"During our last session, you talked about how challenging turning fifty would be." Dr. Ludlow spoke around the ballpoint pen in her mouth. "How are you doing now that the day is here?"

Blurs from this morning seared Arthur's memory, the saltiness of sweat and skin. He felt the fierce heat of a blush and gulped the brazen images away. "I feel good."

"That's great." She lowered herself to her armchair and put her stoneware mug opposite the ashtray on the coffee table. Planted her pen firmly between forefinger and thumb. "How have you worked through last month's feelings?"

"Um, I dunno. I've written in my journal a lot."

"Take a minute to think it over. We've discussed how milestones can trigger mood swings. What's been your strategy to avoid that, and what does your birthday mean to you today?"

He shoved the tip of his tongue in the fleshy part of his cheek.

Fifty. He'd never imagined reaching fifty. Forty-five maybe, just old enough for his body to start falling apart to match his mind. Even when he'd crawled out of bouts of malaise and hadn't wanted to die, the age had remained as intangible as a good reputation and the clout that went with it.

Business was slow but stable. Kids were losing interest in clowns, preferring cartoon characters or Barney or Power Rangers, whatever the hell they were. Birthday parties were getting slimmer, special events and holidays were getting busier. He had a reliable list of regulars. It all evened out.

But his heart remained devoted to his first love - comedy. He'd been chasing that dream for fifteen years. With stardom continuing to elude him, the event horizon of his fifth decade felt like a sign the time to achieve it was running out.

He tapped his Stutton over the ashtray. "I want things I haven't gotten yet. Being a famous standup, you know? Everything comes so easily for some people, and I've been working and working and-" A flinch against the sinewy frustration rising in his breast. God, why did therapy sometimes make him feel worse? Couldn't he skip the soul-searching on his special day? Why hadn't he rescheduled when she'd offered? He breathed on a 3-4-5 count. "I'm trying to remember I can't see the future. Just what I want it to be."

Her pen jotted. "I wonder what your life would look like if you were famous. What you would get out of it."

"I've told you," he said, glancing at her in disbelief. How could he make it any clearer? "I'd make people smile. They'd know who I am, that I'm funny and good."

"Don't you have that now?"

"What do you mean?"

"The people in your life. Y/N, your friends, your family in Missouri. They know you, that you're funny and good. What difference would fame make?" Each syllable pricked, firm but kind points that dulled to prods.

He hesitated, measuring himself. Found he felt about six inches short and not a little pathetic for having the same longings as the lost, lonely man he'd thought he'd left behind. Ancient insecurities aroused, he tucked his hands under his thighs.

After a moment, Dr. Ludlow set her legal pad on the table and moved to sit on the sofa. She left a professional one cushion space between them. "Goals give us a sense of purpose, a way to navigate tough times. Having them is one of the reasons you've done so well. But what I'm hearing is that you want acceptance. You want to be loved." A beat. "You already have that, Arthur. Don't forget it."

His throat shrank to a straw. Her words carried a reality he no longer doubted; he'd lived enough for them to be more than theory. But spoken aloud by a witness to his life, they were engraved with the power of unvarnished truth A truth he could revel in, relax in, cherish and count on.

A truth that brought him joy the way nothing else could.

There was his ever-present wife. The million dollar baby he'd found in the freezer section of a grocery store. She'd made a mistake after their earlier lovemaking, but mistakes were part and parcel of years together, so it'd been all right. Her reasons had been sweet, and she'd promised not to repeat it.

And a card from his in-laws had arrived last week, happiness in a mint green envelope. A bluebird in a mulberry bush wished that on his birthday, he'd find everything he desired, no matter how small. Tangible proof that he mattered, that they were thinking of him even hundreds of miles away.

Wetness burned the outer corners of his eyes. He swiped at them with the sleeve of his cardigan. Hitched chuckles built in him, like the climbing roar of applause at the end of a successful set.

He was fifty and he was loved.

Dr. Ludlow offered a box of tissues. In a tone woven with kindness she asked, "Would you like to talk about your plans to celebrate, or keep them for your journal?"

~~~~~

Kneeling on the back of the red, round booth, Y/N reached to hang the Happy Birthday banner on the wall. "Is it even?"

Patricia spoke from two yards behind her. "If Arthur tilts his head."

A chuckle on her lips and a song in her heart, Y/N slid the Y three inches lower and stuck it with a pin. One of the perks of being a long-time regular at Kao-Wah's was the ability to commandeer the back corner, the one by the bar. (That it was an uncrowded Thursday didn't hurt.)

After this morning's misstep, she was determined to make this evening perfect.

She climbed down backwards, kitten heel brushing padded vinyl before finding the floor. She pushed a four-top against the booth's six-top table, just the right amount of space for guests, and the cake Patricia had helped her make. Mandarin with homemade frosting, made with unsalted butter, powdered sugar, milk, and canned oranges. Ingredients Y/N could handle with a best friend.

Patricia ripped open two crepe streamers, one teal and one yellow. "Has he seen you in that yet?" She indicated Y/N's outfit with a nod.

Her dress was a number she'd picked up at L. Ballinger's summer closeout. Tiered Chantilly lace, ivory, with a dropped bodice and long sleeves, it revealed enough to remind Arthur of what she was hiding. Pretty and feminine, swingy and fun. She took the end of the streamers, walked backwards to unroll and twist them together. "I saved it for tonight."

"You'll knock him dead," Patricia said with a wink.

Y/N taped the crepe paper along the chairs, akin to a velvet rope at a red carpet announcing a Very Important Person was on the way. A small bundle of balloons rose from each end of the table, completing the cheery decor. Hand on one hip, she surveyed their handiwork and smiled.

Patricia ordered two sparking wines and took a seat at the bar. "When Robert turned fifty, I planned a romantic evening to celebrate. Strawberries dipped in chocolate, massage oils, rose petals in the bathtub, the works. Well, I'm in the tub waiting for him to come home - he refused to take the day off - candles all around the room.

"The front door opens, and I straighten my legs and stick out my chest like a pinup. He stumbles in, drenched in oil and coolant, and he says, 'What the hell are you doing? I need a shower!'" Shoulders shaking with laughter, she wagged her head. "He hopped in there, rose petals and all, all the while I'm running around blowing out candles before the shower curtain goes up in flames. I'd never moved so fast. And I thought life at fifty would be boring."

"You're the most exciting old dame I've ever met." Y/N pecked her cheek and slid onto the stool beside her. There was a gold serving basket brimming with fortune cookies to her left. She snagged one from the middle, cracked it open, and popped the sugary wafer in her mouth. Ears filled with crunching, she read the bit of wisdom contained within: You cannot love life until you live the life you love.

An unexpected but welcome melancholy washed over her. The ripples of her life had ebbed and flowed, but living with Arthur was a steady joy. He was very much the man she'd fallen in love with. Gentle with a streak of shyness but determined to speak up and pursue what he desired. But he'd grown, too. Exited the purgatory between adulthood and adolescence neglect had locked him in. He'd learned to trust himself, to like himself on good days, now the vast majority.

She folded the fortune, to be placed in her purse with her compact and pager. "I can't imagine ever being bored with Arthur. I'm proud of him. He's done a lot of work to get here. I'm lucky I've been the one to see him do it."

"You haven't just seen it. You've helped."

Her insides twirled, a pleasant tickling at her navel. "We've helped each other." She sipped at the wine glass and continued. "There is one other thing I've been trying to help him with. Maybe you'll have an idea..."

Y/N went over the scene of the crime, albeit without the salacious (Patricia would have called them fun) details. She'd started in right as Arthur'd pulled his briefs past his knees. He must have recognized the shape and weight of a cassette booklet. Irises sparkling, he'd asked what music collection she'd gotten for his Walkman.

He'd ripped the balloon patterned wrapping paper from the squeaky plastic. Squinted down at tiny red letters on white tapes.

"'Stop smoking with the Gotham Lung Association?'"

He pushed them away and rolled his eyes. Stood and yanked his underwear over his hips. "I wish you'd stop using special occasions for that. Telling me to quit smoking. Especially on my birthday. I'm down to half a pack a day!" He grabbed his pajama bottoms from the vanity. "I know you don't like it. You haven't liked it for fifteen years."

"But I need five more decades of you," she'd said, clambering on hands and knees to his side of the bed. She'd caught his pantleg, drew him to her a with a gentle tug. Despite her tenderness, annoyance kept his brows furrowed.

She'd pecked his thumb, the back of his hand, the knobby part of his wrist. Then her gaze had lifted, her resolve softened by apology. "All right. I won't pester you about it on your birthday anymore." Her slight shrug and unsure smile had twisted his grimace into a grin. "May I keep Christmas?"

Patricia gaped at her, an Are You Serious look. "You thought today would be good to remind him of what annoys you?"

"That's not what I meant. I realize it was a dumb thing to do. I just..." Chin propped on her knuckles, Y/N huffed. "If I were to lose him because of that nasty habit, I'd be devastated."

The clink of glass on the walnut bar top. "You meant well. You always mean well." One cheek hanging off the stool, Patricia hugged Y/N at the waist. "Getting older isn't easy. Let the man enjoy it. And learn to take a day off."

A slight nod as Y/N's shoulders slackened, tension ebbing away. There was something about Patricia's blunt kindness that made her feel wonderful, like she was the little sister for a change.

Y/N swirled the rest of her wine, deciding that one fun detail couldn't hurt. "Besides that, we had a great morning. I made sure he didn't mind waking up early."

~~~~~

Arthur wished he wore a watch so he could check it.

He was supposed to met Y/N in front of Kao Wah's after she got out of work, around five-thirty. Though he'd left the apartment at five and ridden the train for nine stops, there was no sign of her. He patted his left breast, then reached under the winter coat's placket to check the inner pocket.

Folded into quarters, the late arrival remained in place. His mouth curved in relief.

His toes tapped the sidewalk, he puffed clouds into the autumn air. Another minute and he rummaged through his pocket for a quarter. There was a payphone on the corner. He'd call her office in case she'd been delayed.

Three steps later, Y/N's call met his back. "Arthur!"

Holding Kao Wah's door open with one foot, she waved at him and waved him towards her. "I'm sorry," she said when he was an arm's length away. "I wanted to grab our favorite booth while it was free."

But he'd only registered a couple of words, the syllables after her sorry a muffled drone. "Look what came in the mail today. It must've gotten lost." He retrieved the October-dated letter from his coat, not looking up or around, too busy buzzing to pay attention as she held his elbow and guided him inside. "Ruthie's coming next month. She- she wants to go to Gotham University." The mere possibility of having family nearby nearly scuttled the reason for tonight's engagement.

"Really?" Y/N smoothed his hair back, unbuttoned his formally-puffy-now-lumpy coat. "Mabel hasn't mentioned it. Either she's gotten better at keeping secrets or Ruthie hasn't told her. I hope it's the former." Y/N continued, pulling him along." It's too bad she couldn't make it this month. She could've helped us all celebrate."

A slight flinch of his head. "Who's all?"

"Happy birthday!" a chorus of cheery voices cried.

The heavy lashes that shaded his cheeks flew up, eyes as wide as a Mun Shou platter.

Patricia and Robert, Ryan and Sheila from Gotham Elementary. Gary - no, not that Gary, who was in England visiting family - but a fellow aspiring comic Arthur had gotten to know during open mic nights at the Smile Factory and Pogo's. A circle but a tight one, a clockface with each person a numeral, a sign of the progress of his life.

Slanting his gaze to Y/N, he tucked the letter in his pocket. "You didn't have to do all this."

"I wanted to," she said, warmth in her cocoa gaze. "We all did."

A slight sway, a tuck of the chin. He ran a hand down his vintage, black suit jacket and tightened his neck. Dressing up to the nines for her had been the plan, a playful way to make their date extraordinary. But at the crowd's casual attire, he felt a little left-footed. "I'm overdressed," he murmured,

Y/N adjusted his lapels. "You look wonderful."

He loosened his large bowtie, the size you'd see during a 1976 Oscar broadcast, so that it draped untied at the neck. Plucked the collar button of his dress shirt and made of show of pulling it down. Once adjusted, he gave her form a demure but thorough ogling. Nearly bare shoulders, a neckline he longed to kiss, the dip of her waist beneath the lining and lace. He'd glue his hand there later. He wet his lips. "Thanks. So do you."

"Come on, sit down." Patricia wore a wry grin. "Before you two set off the sprinklers and ruin the party."

A buffet of Arthur's favorites and a couple new dishes swamped the table. The five spice beef was the perfect winter warmer, the pan-fried noodles with vegetables expertly seared. Moo goo gai pan and chicken chow mien arrived on oversized platters. The egg rolls were extra crispy and the pork fried rice extra sticky. The first round of drinks were on him and Y/N; she ordered Mai Tais between pots of oolong tea.

He'd gotten better at chitchat, gained the confidence to take a chance, perfect the small stage. As the dinner wore on, he noted how natural it felt to break off into side conversations. Succeeded in listening and responding without have to wonder if his instincts had led him down the street of weird. He knew what to do with his hands.

Years of budget cuts had hit the school system like a mallet, and more and more fundraisers tried to make up the difference. Bake sales and book fairs, ticket raffles and auctions. Ryan and Sheila discussed the school's upcoming winter carnival, which Arthur had been a regular part of for a decade. And at events he wasn't hired for (at a reduced rate), he gladly volunteered. It was easier to give of himself now that he had a quadraphonic life instead of mono.

Patricia had convinced Robert to finally, finally sell Gorman Fire and Ice to their grandson for a song, so they could finally, finally take a vacation, a trip to the Bahamas since Cuba was no longer allowed.

Suit jacket slung across the back of his chair, Arthur jotted on a napkin while he and Gary went over the rotation of open mic nights across a sea of clubs, and a new guy in the biz who had a habit of stealing jokes.

An hour later, while he was still high on carbs and comfort in his own skin, Y/N presented him with a cake. Two tiers, rectangular, specks of orange dotting its pale yellow frosting. He leaned into her, mouth agape. "You made this?" He took a languid bite, licked the frosting from his lips and stole another. The mandarin sponge melted on his tongue. He hummed, wrapped an arm around her. "I have a sneaking suspicion I'll want you to make me a cake every birthday."

She snorted into her tea and called across the table. "Patricia, could you pencil me in for a cake lesson every November for the next thirty years?"

Patricia served herself a second slice. "I'll be busy in Acapulco."

Once the check was brought and the leftovers started to be scraped into oyster pails, Arthur stood, scooting his chair away with the backs of his calves. Rapped a fork against his Mai Tai coupe the way he'd seen on TV. Rolled the Tiki themed stem between thumb and forefinger. Studied the amber liquid and considered the right thing to say.

"Thank you for coming," he began, hewing close to the opening of a comedy set. He giggled at the association, an arc of inspiration sparking. "When I was a young man, I thought fifty would mean nights at home with no friends. But now I worry my bad knee'll go out more than I do."

Laughter danced across his friends' faces. He reveled in their smiles, their open admiration. Dr. Ludlow's earlier counsel echoed at the base of his skull. He exhaled a long, satisfied sigh. "I'm glad you all care about me and are here to celebrate."

"You're a jolly good fellow," Patricia said, and raised her teacup for a toast.

Y/N reached out, laced her fingers with his own. Brimming with tenderness, her gaze lifted to his. "Here's to many, many more."

~~~~~

It was just after nine o'clock in 4A. Y/N had traded her dress for stirrup leggings and an off-the-shoulder sweater. Arthur remained resplendent in his evening wear. They'd made a pot of decaf and planned to call Ruthie on the weekend, invite her to stay with them during her visit.

Ready to be returned on tomorrow's lunch break, the smoking cessation tapes sat dejected in Y/N's canvas tote bag. Way back in '81, she'd said she'd get him to quit if it was the last thing she did. It was hard for her to let go. But he'd given her permission to nag at Christmas, and if he wanted to take steps to quit, he knew how. It had to be up to him.

Cross-legged on the carpet, he sat by the coffee table and tore open another gift. He held up the VHS in triumph. "I've Always Loved You," he read, then flipped it over to scan the summary. "I don't think I've seen this."

"Me neither." She perched on the sofa, to his left. "But it's from 1946 and the title's true. There's one more present. Close your eyes."

Leaning back on his hands, he did. She bent over the side of the sofa, retrieved what she'd shoved underneath before his wake-up call. The light weight dropped on his lap with a soft rustling.

One eye cracked open, then the other, surprise engulfing his entire visage. A cautious palm skimmed the tweed carpet bag, a blue and red plaid to go with his clown costume. (His usual nylon prop bags had started to fray after six months. Their novice repairs lasted about two.) Parallel to the bag's top zipper was a bronze nameplate: Carnival.

Arthur fidgeted with the handle. "I'll need a gig at Wayne Hall to use this."

"Open it."

He dragged the zipper's tab an inch. Peeked inside the bag before dragging it further. "Oh..."

Gingerly, he took out the Kala ukulele, reddish brown like mahogany, its four tuners pearl and chrome. The certificate pasted in the soundhole had a manufacture date of 1972, but the instrument looked untouched, as though forgotten in the back of a closet.

"I know getting new clients has been harder the last couple of years. This might help. The library has VHS music lessons you can check out." She knelt behind him and cupped his shoulders. "The strings were put on last week."

His fingertips flitted over the neck, began to pluck the G and C strings at a beginner's tempo. Not quite a match for the notes he played, he crooned a version of "Row, Row, Row Your Boat." Gravelly and half hummed, the way you'd sing a lullaby to a sleepy child.

"Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a..." The music came to a gradual stop. "Do you ever wish for more?"

"More of you? Always."

"Today Dr. Ludlow asked what I'd get out of being famous. I thought about it when I got Ruthie's letter. And at the party." The corners of his mouth turned inward. "Do you think I ever will be?"

Y/N nibbled her bottom lip. Tried to find the balance between the truth as she saw it and greater possibilities. Magazines and television implored women to feel like they were defective for aging (and going by the ads for men's hair color, they were about to be dragged into the same predicament.) Popular culture focused on the young. The next Big Thing wasn't old enough to buy a bottle of wine. At Arthur's age, fame was unlikely. For that matter, it'd be unlikely for anyone at any age.

She'd never wanted to be anything special, just herself and to do some good while she was at it. Arthur's outsized need for attention was one of their biggest differences. But she understood where it came from, understood him. His wish for fame was a tough and twisty bit of scar-tissue on his soul.

"There's so much left to chance," she said. "Timing and connections, the right person in the right audience on the right night. That any of us get what we want is a miracle."

A light nod, as nearly imperceptible as his voice. "I still wanna try."

"Good." She wrapped her arms about him, lay her palm above his heart. "Miracles can't happen if we don't."

He grasped her hand. Kissed the back of it and kissed her wrist. "Not everyone makes it. To fifty, I mean. I might not have. I'm happy I did."

Smiling, Y/N grasped his jaw and tilted his head back. Bent over him to seal their mouths. "Me, too," she whispered. "Me, too."

~~~~~

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[wishuhadstayed]

Dress (Part 3)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Word Count: 6.9k 😦

Summary: after years of friendship and one night of passion, can Aaron and reader sort out their feelings for each other?

Warnings: SMUT! NSFW! Unprotected P in V sex, light choking, angst, canon typical violence, mentions of death, mentions of alcohol.

Author’s Note: these two idiots (affectionate) I love them 💜 (italicized portions indicate a flashback)

Masterlist

Part 2

Slowly stirring awake hours after collapsing into bed with you, Aaron felt a moment of panic in his chest as he realized you weren’t by his side. He sat bolt upright in a cold sweat, finding you perched on the opposite edge of the bed with your back to him.

“What’s wrong, y/n?” he inquires, crawling across the bed to press closely to your side.

“It’s nothing really,” you reply half-heartedly, patting his knee. “Just another nightmare,” you lie. “Didn’t want to disturb you.”

Not convinced, but not wanting to press the issue, he relents. “I'm gonna run you a hot bath, okay?” He suggests, easing down from the bed to slip off the only clothing that remains; your strappy high heels. “It should help you relax.”

“Thank you Aaron,” you reply, stroking his thick hair with a weak smile.

Retreating to the master bath, he wonders what you’re really trying to hide. Something was off for sure, and he couldn’t bear to witness your pain, so he would do whatever it takes to get to the bottom of things.

——————————————————————————

You were ruining things. You could feel it in your gut. You’d had the most amazing sex with your best friend and now things were irrevocably changed. You were in love with him, no doubt. But did he feel the same way, or was it just a fling?

You’d lied straight to his face and told him that it was just another nightmare, but his profiler’s intuition had seen straight through your charade; you felt it in your soul. Try as you might, you could not hide from him.

Do you pretend it never happened? Go back to being friends and slowly die inside? Could he really be in love with you, damage and all? The uncertainty was quickly eating you alive.

“Come here,” his deep voice slices through the fog as he scoops you up and carries you to the bath. Easily stepping over the side, he eases you both into the hot, bubbly water.

After a few moments, the hot water eases away the tension in your body and you lean back into his chest, your head on his broad shoulder; but the uncomfortable silence remains.

“I know there’s more going on than what you’re telling me,” he whispers, softly stroking the hair from your neck. “I just wish you trusted me enough to tell me what it is. We’re supposed to be best friends.”

The quiet pain in his tone sends silent tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Look,” he says, turning your face to him and gently wiping away tears with the pad of his thumb. “I didn’t mean to make you cry, I just can’t stand to see you hurt like this. If it’s something I’ve done, please tell me so I can try to fix it.”

“Oh Aaron,” you sigh, softly caressing his concerned face, “no, it’s not you. You’re so good to me. You’re perfect.”

“Can you please talk to me about it?” He begs, gripping your hands for dear life. “If you’re afraid because you think we messed things up, don’t be,” he reassures.

“Because I love you too.”

Face flushing, you stammer out, “Y-you heard that? I thought that was just in my head.”

“Yes I heard it,” he smiles, “and I feel the same way. I think I’ve been in love with you for a long time and I’ve been too blind and stupid to admit it.”

Eyes welling up with tears, you cup his jaw and whisper, “Oh Aaron, you have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that. Is this really happening? It just doesn’t seem real.”

“I’ll say it as many times as it takes to sink in,” he assures, smiling as he presses his lips to yours.

“I love you,” he sighs, his lips trailing down your neck.

“I love you,” he breathes, squeezing your hand before giving it the softest kiss.

“I love you.” his rich voice repeats as he squeezes you tightly, like he fears that you might disappear.

“Let’s celebrate,” he suggests, climbing out of the tub and heading for the bathroom door without so much as a towel.

“Where are you going?��� you inquire, trying to stifle a giggle.

“It’s a surprise,” he replies with a mischievous grin. “I’ll be right back.” And with that he disappears from sight.

As you sink into the water, tears of joy and relief begin to flow. You never in your wildest dreams imagined this day would come. But it had. At long last, Aaron was yours.

The tears continue to stream as you thank your lucky stars, or God, or fate for finally bringing you together.

You barely even noticed when he showed back up at the door, still naked and holding a bottle of champagne and two glasses.

Upon seeing your tears, he immediately set everything on the counter and rushed over. Leaning over the side of the tub, he cradles your face in his hands.

“What’s wrong darling?” he asks with a concerned tone. “Is it something I did? Too much, too soon?”

“Absolutely not,” you reply with a sniffle, covering his hands with yours. “Things have never been more perfect than they are right now.”

“Do you need to talk, my love?”

Damn. He always sees straight through you.

“It seems like you have a lot on your mind,” he comments, softly caressing your cheek.

“Yeah,” you manage to choke out as the tears start fresh.

Offering a large, steady hand, he helps you out of the tub, taking a moment to dry both your bodies before scooping you up and carrying you to bed.

Reclining against the headboard, he settles you closely against him, your hips nestled between his thighs; legs tangled together. Your head rests on his bare chest, his right arm draped at your back. His massive left hand engulfs your right, which lies on his warm, scarred belly.

He allows the silence to stretch on for a few minutes, not wanting to rush you into anything before you’re ready. Finally, when he can bear the uncertainty no longer, he gives a soft nudge.

“What’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours, huh?” he questions, tilting your chin up to his face. “Out with it.”

“I feel so dumb, Aaron. You’re going to think I’m really stupid,” you manage through a strangled sob.

“I will do no such thing,” he assures, temporarily moving his right hand to wipe away your tears. “I’m here for you and I want to know exactly what you’re feeling. You can always talk to me.”

“I don’t even know where to start,” you explain. “It’s such a long story.”

“I’m all ears,” he encourages.

At his wedding to Haley, Aaron had insisted that you, as his best friend, be included in the wedding party. As he was preparing, getting the finishing touches of his tuxedo settled, he sent one of the groomsmen to fetch you.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet, Hotchner,” you joke, laying your hand on his forearm. “I already got all dolled up for this.”

The sight of you all made up and standing in your floor length emerald bridesmaid’s dress made his heart flutter in his chest.

“You look beautiful, as always,” he replies, reaching out to softly grasp your hand. “I’m just a bundle of nerves,” he admits. “Excited, but nervous. You always make me feel better.”

His casual admission of your beauty and his need for you silently shattered your heart into a million pieces as he was about to marry someone else. Guilt slowly seeped in as you smiled and straightened his tie. You shouldn’t be jealous, you should be happy for your best friend.

“You have nothing to worry about, Aaron. You and Haley are perfect for each other. I’ll be right there for you.”

“Thanks, Y/N. For always being there for me. You’re the best,” he says, finally letting go of your hand. “I guess it’s about time to go.”

“Yeah,” you agree, giving him a tight hug and trying to fight back tears before running to take your place in line at the back of the church.

“You WERE stunning that day,” he breaks in, softly kissing the top of your head. “I meant that. It was probably wrong of me to say that on my wedding day, especially knowing now how you felt, but it was the truth.”

You begin to sniffle again and he rubs your back as you carry on.

You couldn’t keep your eyes off of him, looking like a dream in his suit as you walked down the aisle. The wish that it was you walking to him and not Haley crept in again, along with a wave of guilt.

You could sense his eyes on you as well.

We’re just friends. Nothing more. It doesn’t mean anything. Just keep walking, and for the love of god, don’t cry in front of the whole church.

To your credit, you managed to hold it together long enough for the service before running to the nearest bathroom and breaking down completely.

The door creaked open suddenly, startling you and there she was. Haley. Looking infuriatingly gorgeous in her bridal gown.

Damn. Why did I have to let her see me cry? Get it together.

“Everything alright, Y/N?” She asks, holding out a tissue.

“I’m alright,” you smile weakly, blotting your eyes with the tissue. “I’m just so happy for you both,” you explain. “Weddings always make me cry.”

“Just making sure everything is alright.” She says. “I know Aaron would hate for you to miss the reception.”

“Thanks,” you reply. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

The reception felt like torture, watching your best friend and the man of your dreams slip further from your reach. You offered soft, if weary, smiles at passers-by. For anyone that noticed or cared enough to ask if something was wrong, you offered the excuse that you had a headache and weren’t feeling well, but wanted to support your friend.

You were having a drink at the bar, trying to forget, or at least not think so much, when Aaron’s deep voice cut through the noise.

“May I have this dance?” he asked as a slow country song, We Danced, by Brad Paisley if you weren’t mistaken, began to play.

“I don’t think so, Aaron. I’m exhausted,” you decline.

“PLEASE?” He pleads, grabbing both your hands and fixing you with that piercing gaze of his.

“ALRIGHT, alright.” You relent, allowing him to lead you to the dance floor. He never was one to take no for an answer.

As the music played, he pulled you close to his chest, his arm draped around your waist.

You laid your head on his shoulder as the two of you swayed, and everyone else seemed to disappear.

Tears filled your eyes, spilling onto Aaron’s shoulder as the lyrics punched you right in the gut.

From that moment, there was never any doubt. I had found the one that I had always dreamed about.

“So that’s why you were crying,” Aaron cuts in. “Not because you were happy. I can’t believe I didn’t notice. I’m so sorry, my love.”

“You couldn’t have known, Aaron. I never said anything. Please don’t blame yourself or feel sorry for living a life that made you happy.”

“Anyway,” you continue, “after the wedding I was good for a while. I stopped thinking about you every second of every day and then I got a phone call from you.”

“Haley’s pregnant, Y/N!” I’m gonna be a dad! Can you believe that?”

“That’s amazing news, Aaron. I’m so happy for you both.”

And seeing you so excited, I was happy for you, genuinely happy, but deep down all I could think about was how I wished it was me instead.

Then when I came to the hospital to visit you and Haley asked me to be his godmother I knew it would hurt being so close, but I wanted to be there to support you.

Holding Jack the first time was one of the hardest things I ever did, but once I looked into his eyes, I fell in love with him immediately; because he was part of you.

“Oh baby,” his rich voice reverberates in his chest as he bear hugs you tightly. After a minute, you feel his grip loosen and as you look up, he plants a brief, soft kiss on your lips.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs. “I’m the luckiest man alive.”

Tears begin to well up in your eyes again, and he urges you to continue whilst softly stroking them away.

“For a while it seemed like you were the perfect family. So happy,” you remark. “Then I got a call from Haley.”

“Hey Y/N! It’s Haley. Wanna come over for a girl’s night? Well, Jack will be here too, but I figured you wouldn’t mind that. I wanted to pick your brain about some stuff with Aaron. No one knows him better than you.”

You had agreed, of course. It was good seeing little Jack, but what had started out as a girl’s night and some advice had quickly devolved into a full-blown bitchfest about how pissed Haley was that Aaron was never home.

“It sucks doing everything by myself,” Haley rants. “I swear it’s like I’m a single mom sometimes. It seems like that damn job is all he cares about lately. Can’t even be bothered to make it home for a simple family photo.”

Every word from her mouth had torn like a knife straight to the heart. She didn’t understand him at all. He deserves better, but that’s not your place; so you just listened and nodded quietly until you could go.

A few months later, you got a call from Aaron.

“Hey Y/N,” his normally steady voice wavers, like he might be on the verge of tears. “I need to see you tonight after work. Can I come over to your place?”

“Of course you can, Aaron,” you reply without hesitation. “Is everything okay?”

“We’ll talk about it later, okay?” his voice cracks on the other end of the line. “I’ll see you tonight.”

What you saw when you had opened your front door that night had made your heart ache. His eyes were puffy and red from tears already and clutched in his hand was a manila envelope. Not good.

You ushered him inside, settling him on the couch next to you.

“What’s going on, Aaron?” You ask, gently taking his free hand. “I know something is wrong. Don’t hold it in. Please. Talk to me.”

And with that, the dam breaks and the usually strong and composed man breaks down into a fit of tears. Unsure what to do and not wanting to pry, you comfort him the best way you know how.

Pulling him close, you lay his head on your chest, tenderly stroking and caressing his back as he wordlessly weeps.

“Let it out,” you encourage, gingerly brushing his hair back from his tear-stained face. “Let it all out, I’m right here.”

A good while later, he drew in a deep, shaky breath as the tears finally gave way to exhaustion.

“Are you ready to talk about it now?” you question, tilting his face up to look at you. He gives a small nod of agreement. With a deep breath, he leans back far enough to look you in the eyes, but still close enough to grasp your forearm for support and glumly states,

“Haley filed for divorce.”

“Oh Aaron,” you breathed, pulling him back into your embrace. “I’m so sorry, honey,” you express, squeezing him tight.

“I guess loving my job makes me a shitty husband and father,” he laments.

“No,” you interrupt, turning his face to your deathly serious expression. “You stop that right now,” you demand. “You’re an excellent father. I’ve seen you with Jack. You love that boy more than life.”

“As for Haley,” you continue, “ I know you love her, but she doesn’t understand your passion. Your team needs you. Some people just can’t handle the demands of your job.”

“It’s late,” you comment, slowly rising from the sofa. “We should get some rest.”

“I’ll just crash here on the couch if you don’t mind,” he suggests.

“Absolutely not,” you insist. “I refuse to leave you alone with your feelings. You’re coming to bed with me, and that’s final.”

He offers no resistance as you take his hand and lead him down the hall. Once inside your bedroom, you settle him on the edge of your bed and help him get comfortable.

Sliding off his suit jacket, you place it on top of the chest at the foot of your bed. You loosen his silk tie, slipping it from around his neck and laying it on the nightstand.

“This really isn’t necessary,” he protests as you unbutton his dress shirt. “I’m a big boy. I can undress myself.”

“You’re exhausted, Aaron,” you persist, laying his shirt to the side and kneeling down to unlace his shoes. “You take care of everyone else. Would it kill you to let me take care of you for once?”

“No,” he relents as you slip off his socks. “It wouldn’t. Thank you, Y/N. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Fall apart, apparently,” you reply jokingly, patting his knee before heading to the bathroom to get changed yourself.

“I’ll be right back,” you call out. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Upon your return, clad in an oversized tee and sleep shorts, you find Aaron in his boxers and undershirt, looking serene and already passed out under the covers.

You crawl into bed slowly, trying desperately not to disturb his slumber. Settling down next to him on your back, you freeze when he suddenly stirs.

Still half asleep, he nuzzled up partly on top of you, lying his head on your chest and his arm across your waist.

Still frozen in shock at the unexpected affection, you feel his breathing once again become slow and even. When you’re certain that he’s back asleep, you rest your left hand at the small of his back and relax; stroking his hair as you drift off to sleep.

You wake at some point, groggy and with Aaron now pressed closely against your back. Yawning, you check the alarm clock; 3:45am. Suddenly thirsty, you reach for the glass of water on the nightstand when an unexpected tug at your waist stops you in your tracks.

Aaron’s arm is circled tightly around you. A soft groan escapes his still- sleeping form as he subconsciously pulls you back flush against his chest. Close contact restored, he nuzzles softly at your neck as he settles back in.

Hazy light filtering through the blinds awakens you to an empty bed. Glancing around, you see Hotch’s suit jacket still in the spot it was left last night. The alarm clock reads 7am. Where is he? No water running in the bathroom, so he’s not taking a shower.

The smell of frying bacon makes you realize how starved you are, luring you out to the kitchen. As you approach, you hear a muttered curse.

“Ah shit!”

As you round the corner into the doorway, you find Aaron at the stove in a pair of sweatpants that he had left at your place after your last movie night with Jack. Still cursing under his breath, he strips off his undershirt as you come into his line of sight.

“You alright?” you ask, looking him up and down, eyes wide.

“Damn bacon grease splattered on me, that’s all,” he replies, taking in your dazed expression. “You hungry?” He inquires.

“What?” You sputter, having not heard his question as you were completely distracted by the tantalizing sight in front of you.

“I asked if you’re hungry. You were staring. I made plenty.”

God this man could not be more perfect, or any more oblivious.

“Hold on,” Aaron cuts in. “Two things. First of all, I didn’t realize that I had snuggled up to you or pulled you into my chest,” he explains.

“Well that’s because you were asleep, dumbass,” you tease, playfully patting his arm.

“Watch it,” he warns with a grin. “Second, I had no idea you were staring at ME. I really thought you were hungry.”

“I was hungry for breakfast until I saw you shirtless, dumbass.”

“Oh really?” he whispers suggestively in your ear as his hand makes its way up your thigh.

“Not so fast, sir,” you shut him down, swatting his wandering hand.

“SIR?” he inquires, planting a warm kiss just behind your ear. “I like the sound of that.”

“Cool it Hotchner,” you insist. “I’m not finished with my story yet. I’ve been waiting for YEARS, I think you can make it another 15 minutes. Now, where did I leave off?”

“Then I joined the BAU and I was so busy getting settled in and getting the hang of things that I didn’t have time to think about even though we were always around each other. That is, until I got an unusual call from Emily…”

“Hey, Y/N, it’s Emily, look we were just wondering if Hotch was riding in with you, maybe. He hasn’t shown up and he’s not answering any of our texts, so we just wanted to check.”

“No, he’s not with me, Emily. Hold on, I’ll give him a call and I’ll get right back to you.”

Hanging up, you dial Aaron’s number by heart. It rings several times, but ultimately goes unanswered into his voicemail. Panic begins to rise in your chest as you dial Emily back.

“Emily he’s not answering, I’m going by his apartment. Something definitely isn’t right. He always lets someone know if he’s going to be late and he never ignores a phone call from the BAU.”

“Okay, be careful,” she urges. “And let us know what happens, alright.”

“Will do,” you reply, disconnecting the call as you floor the gas. Flying through the streets, you make it to his apartment in record time.

Arriving on his floor, you make a beeline for his door and bang on it loud enough to wake the dead.

“AARON! Aaron if you’re in there you better open the door this instant, it’s not fucking funny.”

When you’re met with nothing but silence, a deep sense of cold dread envelopes your whole body. Using the key he had given you, you unlock the door and your heart immediately sinks.

There on the carpet in front of you, a pool of blood. A bullet hole in the wall. Far worse than anything you had imagined.

I called Emily back and the whole team got to work trying to track you down. God, I was so scared. We had no idea whether you were alive or dead. I couldn’t bear the thought of living without you.

Emily had Garcia call round to the hospitals asking if you had been brought in and that’s when we heard that Morgan was in the hospital.

That didn’t make sense to me, because he was there on the case with us, and that’s when it hit me.

Foyet.

But at least we knew you were still alive. When I got to the hospital and they told us what happened, my god, I nearly cried. Seeing you unconscious in that stretcher almost broke me, but I had to hold it together for the team and for you.

And I did, until Haley got there. I couldn’t contain myself anymore and I ran to the bathroom and completely broke down. I could hear her ridiculing you even through the thick bathroom walls and I was so furious. I cried even harder out of pure hatred for her. You could easily have died, and she couldn’t even be bothered to care.

When I heard her leave, I came out and that’s when you called me over. You held your arms out and I broke down again as it really set in that I could have lost you forever.

As tears began to well up, you sniffled at the sudden emotion of old memories. He draws you closer into his chest, stroking your hair as he whispers words of comfort.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I can’t even imagine how awful that was for you, but I’m here now. I’ll never leave you again. We don’t have to talk about it anymore if you don’t want to.”

“No,” you protest, “I’m fine really. It’s almost over.”

“Once I realized that you were gonna be okay, things were alright again for a while and then Haley died.”

“Seeing the grief and anguish in your face as you held her lifeless body absolutely wrecked me. Knowing that someone that you love is in the worst pain of their life and there’s not a thing you can do about it is the worst feeling. I would have done anything, ANYTHING to take away your heartache or even lessen it, but I couldn’t.”

“I tried to be a good friend to you, putting my own feelings for you aside to help you cope. Gave you space when you needed it and a shoulder to cry on for the hard times.”

“Slowly I started to see the old you creep back in; the light in your eye, a soft, dimpled smile and I had a foolish glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe for once we could be happy.”

“You were training for the FBI triathlon and it really seemed like things were going fine and we were back to normal and then the next thing I know, I’m blindsided by you gushing about a new woman.”

“This girl is amazing, Y/N. She’s so funny, and we’re training together for the race. I’m a little nervous honestly, but I think I’m finally ready. I’ve gotta put myself back out there and, I don’t know, it just feels right with her.”

Honestly that was so incredibly painful for me to hear. Of course I wanted you to be happy, but I wanted you to be happy with ME.

It was so good to see your brilliant smile and so tragic to know that it wasn’t me on your mind every day when I had to see you at work. Hearing you chat about how gorgeous and amazing she was, and how in love you were with her made me want to die.

So I started avoiding you as much as I could. Because as much as it hurt to be away from you, it was far worse constantly hearing you talk about her like I was completely invisible.

That’s when JJ cornered me in the kitchenette.

“I’ve seen the way you look at him,” she states matter-of-factly.

“The way you light up when he laughs. And now that he’s with Beth, even the mention of him makes you look like you want to crawl under a rock. So do you wanna talk about it? Or are you gonna make me force it out of you?”

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

“Oh please. Listen. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s your business, but don’t lie to me, okay?”

“I can’t do this anymore, JJ,” you respond, long-held tears streaming down. “I’m putting in my two weeks notice. I go home crying almost every night, it’s killing me,”

An abrupt cough from her cuts you off mid-sentence and you see Aaron standing there in the doorway. With a reassuring pat on your shoulder, JJ makes her way out, leaving the two of you alone in uncomfortable silence.

“You can’t leave,” he pleads quietly, nearly in tears himself. “If you’re having a hard time with the job you should have come to me sooner,” he says, softly grabbing your hand.

“Don’t go,” he begs. “The team needs you. I need you.”

His words slash straight through your defenses and tears continue to fall despite your best efforts to stem the tide. So pathetic to be caught crying like a baby.

But the look of genuine distress and the tinge of pain in his voice as he urges you to stay pulls at what’s left of your heartstrings.

You would surely hurt him if you left. So like a true friend, you will stay. Suffering in silence, the secret burden of your undying love for him slowly shattering you beneath its weight.

Days and weeks went by, the pain washing over you in waves as you struggled to keep your head above water.

“Being there by your side through everything really took its toll on me because I had such deep feelings for you. And what really sucked was feeling guilty all the damn time because you weren’t even mine to lose. I cried myself to sleep every night knowing I would never have you and angry at myself for hating the women lucky enough to love you like I so desperately wanted to.”

“I was slowly coming to terms with the fact that I had to be happy with the role that I already had in your life and stop hoping for something more, when I got another tearful phone call from you.”

“Y/N?” he sniffled. “Can I see you?”

“Aaron, what’s going on? Is everything alright? Is Jack okay? You sound really upset.”

“Jack’s fine, it’s nothing about him. I’ll tell you all about it, but please, I just really need you right now. Can I come over?”

“You’re in no shape to be driving, Aaron. I’ll come to you. Be there as soon as I can. Just hang on, okay?”

“Alright. Please hurry.”

Coming through the front door, which he unlocked for you, you find a clearly emotional Aaron on the sofa, head in his hands.

Approaching quietly, you lay a hand on his broad shoulder.

“Hey,” you murmur. “I’m here.”

Looking up to meet your eyes, he loses the battle and tears begin to fall.

“Come here,” you urge, plopping down on the couch next to him and reaching out your arms.

Desperately in need of comfort, he accepts, pressing close into your arms and laying his head on your shoulder.

“Let it out,” you gently encourage as the normally strong and stoic man quietly weeps.

“I’m right here,” you reassure, softly rubbing his trembling back. “You can talk when you’re ready.”

Gradually the tears slowed and he heaved a sigh as he whispered, “It’s Beth.”

“Beth? What happened?”

“She’s taking a job in New York. We agreed that long distance would be too much of a burden on the relationship, so it’s over.”

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry,” you comfort, “I know how hard that must be after putting yourself back out there. You really seemed happy with her.”

“I was,” he agrees, “It was a mutual decision, and it feels stupid to be so upset, but I can’t help it. I just don’t know if I have it in me to try again. Maybe I’m supposed to be alone.”

“Oh Aaron,” you whisper, softly wiping his tears and planting a feather light kiss on the back of his massive hand, “You’re not alone. I’m always here for you, aren’t I?”

A minuscule sound that could almost have been a laugh escapes him as a tiny smirk turns up the corner of his perfect mouth.

“That’s better,” you encourage, gently sweeping the hair from his eyes. “And now you should relax,” you suggest, rising from your seat.

“Wait,” he pleads, “please don’t leave me.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you assure. “Just getting a hot shower started for you. I’ll be here as long as you need me, okay? I promise.”

Trying to make the process as easy and relaxing as possible, you head to his bedroom, turning on the shower in the attached master bath to let it heat up before grabbing him some fresh clothes. Finding a soft cotton t-shirt and a pair of boxers, you lay them on the counter next to his towel before heading back to the living room.

Grabbing your outstretched hand, he rises and follows you back to the bedroom, whispering a quiet thanks before disappearing into the steamy bathroom.

Once alone, you strip out of your work clothes in exchange for something nearly identical to what you’d just fished out for him. The shirt nearly swallows you whole, but it’s insanely cozy, as is his bed when you snuggle under the covers; the familiar scent of him making you drowsy.

“Yeah, when I got out of the shower, you were asleep in my spot,” he breaks in, “but you looked so peaceful that I hated to bother you. So I climbed to the other side, and you subconsciously snuggled into me. Remember that like it was yesterday.”

“Hey,” you gripe with a playful shove, “Who’s telling the story here, you or me?”

“Sorry darling,” he apologizes, kissing your temple. “Go on.”

“ANYWAY,” you continue, flashing a sweet smile, “as I was saying before I was so cutely interrupted….”

A sudden movement startles you, the broad shoulder that your head rests on alerting you to the fact that not only have you fallen asleep, but also apparently curled up with Aaron as well.

Trying to make heads or tails of the situation, you look up, meeting his eyes as he strokes your hair.

“Sssshhhhh, it’s alright. It’s just me,” he soothes. “Go back to sleep.”

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one taking care of you?”

“Yeah,” he responds, beginning to tear up again. “You’re great at that. Always have been, but I’m fine, really,” he ends with a sniffle.

“You’re a terrible liar, Aaron. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“It’s just that, what kind of woman would want me, Y/N? I’m an older, single dad with so much emotional baggage I don’t think anyone would willingly involve themselves with this mess.”

“Stop that right now,” you insist, lightly slapping his arm. “You are not a mess. You’ve been through more hell than most people could ever imagine and you’re still strong. You’ll find the right woman someday. One that will love you and Jack like crazy. Who really understands you. Who wants to help you heal. Someone who will be by your side no matter what,” you trail off, fighting to hold back tears of your own.

“My god, you really were right in front of me the whole time and I was just too stupid to see it,” he butts in.

“You said it, not me,” you joke, softly patting his thigh.

“No seriously,” he interjects, “I had no idea how much you were suffering because of me. How can I ever make it up to you?”

“Look at me, Aaron,” you insist turning to face him and softly cupping his chin. “It’s not your fault. I could have said something, but I didn’t because I was too afraid I’d lose you,” you sniffle, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes.

“You’ll never lose me, Y/N” he assures with a smile, absentmindedly stroking your left ring finger with the pad of his thumb.

Straddling his lap and looking into those deep, gorgeous eyes of his, you feel the flames of desire start to rise. Leaning in, you nip and suck at his neck, just below his right ear. A soft moan of mixed surprise and pleasure escapes him as you feel his cock hardening against your lower belly. Continuing your trail of open mouthed kisses down his chest, you can’t help but roll your hips in desperate need of friction.

Noticing your growing need, his giant hands grab you firmly by the ass, pulling you closer into him, his now rigid erection directly underneath you, resting against your dripping pussy. Your eyes close, taking in the overwhelming sensation when you feel his hands grinding your hips against his length.

A whimper of sheer ecstasy escapes your open lips, which he quickly stifles with a wet kiss, his tongue exploring every inch of your inviting mouth.

A haze of pleasure clouds your senses and the next thing you know, you’re on your back, giggling like a schoolgirl with Aaron looming above you, the edge of his lips curling into a smirk as he presses his lips to yours once more. Softly pulling back, his teeth tug gently at your lower lip.

His eyes go dark with lust as he rubs the tip of his cock against your soaking cunt.

“You’re mine now.”

He pushes in gently, the thickness of his cock slowly stretching you as you whimper and squirm beneath him.

“Mmmmm,” he hums, slipping an arm under your lower back and lifting your hips; going even deeper than you thought possible. “Such a good girl. Taking me so well.”

“O-only for you, Aaron,” you whimper, desperate for him to move, but powerless in his firm grasp.

“That’s right, my sweet girl,” he groans, “And you’ve waited so patiently for such a long while, it’s time you got your reward.”

Rolling his hips into you at that angle, the head of his cock soon grinds into just the right spot that nearly has you seeing stars.

“Oh Aaron,” you whine, your fingernails digging into the muscular flesh of his shoulder. “Right there, just like that.”

A couple more forceful thrusts bring you just to the brink of bliss before you feel a slowing of his pace.

“I thought you said good girls got their reward,” you mewl.

“Patience, darling” he replies with a smirk, hoisting your legs up over his shoulders.

“Ohhhh FUCK, AARON!” you cry out, the new position creating an even more delicious angle than the last.

He plows into you hard, and with a wicked grin, the force of his thrusts rocking the whole bed.

Your mind suddenly goes blank of everything but white hot desire and his name which you pant with every snap of his hips.

Sensing how close you are to the edge, he rubs tight circles on your sensitive clit with the pad of his thumb, sending jolts of electricity coursing through your body and pooling between your legs.

The sight of you blissed out beneath him, squirming and moaning as he watches his length disappear into your sweet cunt makes his aching cock twitch inside you.

Slowly the massive hand that was at the small of your back travels up your body, caressing your skin before encircling around your throat.

With a gentle squeeze, you crash over the edge, cunt pulsing around his rigid length. Silent tears well up in your eyes at the intensity and you raise your hips even further, locking your ankles behind his head.

“Ah, FUCK,” he moans, head thrown back as he loses control, spilling deep inside you. Coming down from his high, he slowly pulls out, rolling onto his back next to you.

Slowly sitting up, he turns toward the bathroom.

“I’m gonna go grab a washcloth to get you cleaned up, okay?” he says.

“Noooooo,” you whisper, rising and nuzzling your nose at the crook of his neck and softly kissing his shoulder. “Don’t go.”

“Come on baby,” he murmurs, gently scooping you up into his muscular arms. Upon reaching the bathroom, he perches you up on the toilet before turning on the sink to warm up and rummaging for a washcloth from the cabinet beneath.

Retrieving the cloth, he dampens it, preparing to get you cleaned up. Turning back around, he finds you looking clearly uncomfortable and more than a little embarrassed.

“What’s the matter, honey?” he inquires, softly sweeping the stray hair from your flushed face and tilting your chin up to meet his eyes. “Don’t you need to go?”

“Yes,” you reply, barely more than a whisper as you try to break from the intensity of his gaze. “But…” your soft voice trails off, cheeks blazing even worse than before.

A low chuckle escapes him as he grins when the sudden realization sinks in.

“BUT, you don’t want to pee in front of me, huh? Is that it?”

A small nod in the affirmative confirms his suspicions.

“You just confessed years worth of repressed emotions, not to mention the downright filthy sex that we’ve had the past two days and this is what you’re worried about?”

Trying to fight back a smile, you lose the battle, giggling at the foolishness of the thought. Once finished, he gets you cleaned up, the warm, damp cloth gently washing your skin nice and clean.

Scooping you up once more, he easily carries you back to the bed, laying you down softly before getting comfortable and pulling you in.

The position is intimate, you rest half on top of him, cheek to broad, bare chest as his massive warm hand hitches your thigh over his leg.

“Oh Aaron,” you sigh, instantly melting into him, your hand lightly caressing his chest almost as if to convince yourself that you’re not dreaming.

His left hand softly strokes the small of your back as he breathes in the scent of your hair and plants a tender kiss on the top of your head.

“You know I love you, right?” he questions, more of a rhetorical than anything, but your sudden eerie quiet and shift of demeanor soon has him worried.

“You know that, right?” he prods once again, giving your thigh a playful squeeze.

Looking up at him with an almost sad expression, you ask, “Are you sure?”

“What kind of question is that, baby?” he asks, softly cupping your chin and meeting your gaze. “Of course I love you. More than life. More than anything besides Jack. I don’t ever want to live without you again. You’re more than just a lover, you’re my best friend,” he adds, leaning in for a warm, wet kiss. “Forever.”

——————————————————————————

Tag list: @ange-must-die @itdobe-foggy @poetsacademia @hotchners-slut @ladyreapermc @rousethemouse @less-intelligent-spencerreid @themanip @quillvine @word-scribbless @glizzieborden @miss-united-ace @samayoshito @hotchnerundercover @thenewnormalforensicator @crowdedimagines @sagittarianwolf @ssamorganhotchner @dadbodhotch11 @wanniiieeee @romanogersendgame @my-favorite-fics-and-imagines @arsonhotchner @scuttling @shyhotch @silvermercy @sacralizatio-n @wheelsupkels @haley-h0tchner

[miasmaghoul]

7, 13, 35, 48, 69!!

EYYYYY RICKYYYY THANKS MY GUY 💜

7 - Post a snippet from a wip.

I GOTCHU (NSFW)

13 - Do you listen to music when you write? If yes what have you been listening to recently?

This is such a boring answer, but all Ghost. Just...so much fuckin' Ghost my dude. They scratch my brain in exactly the right ways. I'm super into both Prequelle and Impera at the moment, Witch Image from the former and Respite on the Spitalfields from the latter being at the top of my repeat list right now. But @anotherghoul666 just introduced me to Sleep Token, and they're worming their way into my head very quickly.

35 - What's your favorite fic you've posted?

It's a tie between By Your Righteous Hand and And I Will Bathe in Your Devotion. Both of those pieces landed exactly where I wanted them, which was super satisfying! I still say I was possessed by something when i wrote the sweat fic though. I have no other explanation.

48 - Who is your favorite character to write for? Has this changed since you've started writing for that fandom?

CUMSLUT DEWDROP MY BELOVED. I love him with my whole heart and want to break him into a thousand sharp little pieces. I assume this is very healthy since I project a huge amount of myself into him. And yes, this actually has changed! It was originally Aether. Dew has always been my favorite ghoul, but Aether felt more natural to write at first.

69 (nice) - What are your favorite fics at the moment?

OH HELL YEAH LETS GO. Not only at the moment, this is just a list of some of my overall faves!

Metamorphose by @st-danger (anything by Saint honestly, but this one is v v special to me)

Serotonin Like a Loaded Gun by @anotherghoul666

You'd Never Want It To Be Over by @feralghxuls

The Shining and The Light by @mibo-nin

The Same Place I Learned to Give In by @ohvegeta

Whiplash by @streamghoul

You're Always on My Mind by YOU RICKY (I CAN'T WAIT FOR THE LAST CHAPTER HNGHNGN I LOVE THIS WHOLE SERIES)

[violetmuses]

No Turning Back - Rick Flag

TITLE: “No Turning Back” || Rick Flag 

FANDOM: “Suicide Squad” Film Universe

CHARACTER: Colonel Richard “Rick” Flag 

PAIRING: Rick Flag + Female Reader 

MAIN STORYLINE: You were supposed to heed every warning, but Rick Flag is still around. 

Author’s Note: Dedicated to my bestie @bewitchedignition! Thanks so much for offering the idea since I’ve dealt with some brief writer’s block. Feedback would also be greatly appreciated. Love you all. - V. 💜

Main Masterlist 💜

J Krew: @nerdysuperchick @a-reader-and-a-writer @babblydrabbly @lacontroller1991 @shadowkittybucky @loverhymeswith @justin-hammers @weallhaveadestiny @xoxabs88xox @katjnordstrom96   @mayhem24-7forever @fangirl0917 @skvatnavle @sociiallydiisoriiented @heresathreebee @alieninoklahoma @maddu-oliveira @reveluving @sugapapichulo @hodgepodge-of-rog @ijustthinkrickflagisprettyneat @ed-baldwin

__________

2016

Casting nerves for Amanda Waller aside, it’s no secret that you want to cower behind your own desk rather than attend this meeting. Left with no other choice, you sit in the back and take careful sips of one drink from a local coffee shop. 

You cross both legs and sit up in the chair, clicking this favorite pen and aiming to take notes as Waller stands up front, moving through slides of a queued presentation made for the briefing. Based on what you’ve learned, a special task force has been curated by the federal government to combat this secret mission. 

While you silently continue jotting down additional information on each of the selected prisoners  from Belle Reve, someone clears their throat out of nowhere. You hadn’t even realized that another person had sat alongside you after walking in. 

“Oh, sorry.” You turn your head for just a moment and it takes everything within your shocked mindset not to gape. 

Shit! Your thoughts panic without fail. 

You know damn well that many rumors sparked around Colonel Richard Flag. People already described this man as one decorated soldier with the shortest temper. Intimidated couldn’t explain your feelings, even while staffed through ARGUS. 

The Colonel is sitting straight in the chair beside you, dressed professionally for this meeting. Access credentials clipped onto one side of his suit jacket. Flag’s own bondish hair looks slicked back underneath dim lighting as hazel eyes concentrate. 

How can this supposed asshole look so good? Despite your musings, you turn back down and try to finish writing down notes. Even if you aren’t assigned to the mission, Waller insisted on everyone’s attention during this occasion. 

_______

Never. Not once had Colonel Flag spoken to you during the meeting. 

You thought of quietly celebrating at home after work. As long as you didn’t cross paths with him again, you kept your dignity. Making a fool of yourself around Flag would’ve launched all kinds of embarrassment later on. 

Just when you aim to gather belongings and enjoy this victory away from Flag, someone knocks on the open door of this backway office. Waller had begrudgingly approved your switch to private space after one classified snafu took place on site. 

“Yes?” You then look up to see Colonel Flag standing in the threshold with crossed arms. Dreamy plans to drink wine in some warm bubble bath at home now evaporate. 

What the… Your thoughts trail off. 

“Excuse me?” Colonel offers the question, but oddly doesn’t sound patronizing, at least not yet anyhow. 

“Yes, Colonel?” You end up standing and try to give him respect without looking too clumsy. No matter what, you still want to act cordial at a time like this. 

“Waller sent me over here to see you. Could I ask a question?” His Southern drawl becomes more apparent and you try not to swoon in front of him. 

“Yes, Sir?” You make a point to answer his inquiry without looking as if you’ll rush to leave. For all you know, Waller could’ve aimed Flag to probe the area before additional military personnel showed up before this mission.  

“Rick.” He’s introduced himself. You walk around the desk and shake hands with Flag. His strong but slightly calloused palm roughens your small hold. 

“Y/N.” You introduce your own name in return of course. Awkward silence falls in the office as you wait for Rick to continue speaking. 

“Will you tail me for the mission or somethin’, but I don’t want anybody else breathing down my neck.” Once Rick allows himself to scoff about this arrangement, the tables have immediately turned. 

Bingo. There’s the infamous asshole. 

“Colonel, I’m not joining your boots on the ground, but please know that Waller still hired me. What do you need?” Despite how timid you are, standing up for yourself would always matter. You’re part of why departments haven’t even fallen apart yet. 

“Comm units, please.” Rick clenches his teeth through this response and many emotions almost take over. First of all, making a scene would’ve left you without this job. Meanwhile, you want to cower again cursing inward as Flag’s bright teeth show. 

Knowing better than to run off, you shake your head and set a precedent. Enough is enough, especially since the mission takes place not long from now. 

“Colonel, if this is going to work, it’ll be a lot better if you didn’t act so cold. I’m not a robot.” If your own statement can’t settle Rick’s frustration, you’ll quit right now. Even Waller might’ve rattled people at times, but you still weren’t a doormat. 

“Now I see what’s going on, but I’d rather pick up what my team needs and go the hell back home.” Rick crosses his sleeved arms while facing you, still pissed off by this situation.  

“Fine.” You access the nearest keypad and code its numbers, taking out this locked carrier that holds various comm units. 

Anything for this much-needed bubble bath. 

“Guard these essentials with be your life.” You whisper to Flag, thankful that most nosey staffers aren’t nearby to witness this particular trade. As long as Waller approved exchanges though, you weren’t in trouble. 

“Yes, Ma’am.” Rick affirms towards you, nearly smiling prior to heading out this building with even more suited personnel. 

___________

Not long after this mission starts kicking off, Flag has already touched down at Belle Reve to round up prisoners when you hear his first line of contact. 

“Y/N. It’s Flag. I’m trying to see if this still works. We didn’t bring out the units between flights.” Flag’s Southern drawl returns as you sit behind your desk with headphones in the privacy of your own office. 

“Yes, Colonel. I still can hear you. Any updates?” You shift into work mode, hoping to concentrate on the mission. 

“Not yet, Ma’am, but I wanted to apologize for yesterday.” Rick’s confession drops on you unexpectedly. 

Even then, you feel just as bad, no matter how annoyed Rick seemed. Both of your tempers flared in the name of defense and Waller’s need for the mission only worsened things. 

“I forgive you.” You say to Rick. 

“Y/N? When I get back, could we….” Rick trails off his words as he speaks to you through the comm unit, but you want to hear more. 

“Rick?” You nearly panic, hoping to all possible that the transmission hadn’t buzzed out of range. 

“I’m here. I’m here.” Rick calls back, settling your nerves. 

“What did you want to ask me?” You ask, calming yourself down in one way or another. 

“When I get back, dinner’s on me…” Rick seems to chuckle through the com unit and you want to laugh out loud in return. 

Dinner sounds good. You think to yourself. 

[jimilter]

the prince’s cinderella syndrome (m) | p.jm. | teaser

↳ COMING THIS MONTH ↲

🎧 moon - jin of bts willow - taylor swift

pairing: jimin x reader (ft. a dash of jungkook x reader)

rating: m (18+)

genre: angst | smut | fluff | cursed!jimin | supernatural!au | strangers to lovers!au

summary:  He shows up at Halloween, every year, dressed the same, and leaves at midnight like some Cinderella. You would think he was a prankster if his eyes didn't look like they contained all the sadness in the world. You don't know him - no one on campus does. You don't know why he appears only once a year. You don't know why he never smiles. But you can't help falling in love with him. Even if he breaks your heart when he abandons you at midnight, again.

warnings: swearing + alcohol consumption + allusions to substance abuse + black magic and curses + heartbreak + mention of minor character deaths + inaccuracies abt the american education system + inaccuracies abt nasa & astronomy majors + a mish-mash of american and british english + explicit sexual situations (fingering, oral (m+f), unprotected penetrative sex, semi-public sex, some marking, some dirty talk, some roughness, slight cock warming? maybe? mostly pretty missionary stuff tbh) + oc is a v. v. lonely girl :( + jimin is a v. v. sad boy :( 

word count: ~30 k (1.2 k for the teaser)

note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAREST HUBBA MINE! 🥺💗 and happy jimtober to the rest of the world! 🎃

written for jimin’s sunset spooktober, a supernatural, halloween themed jimin collab hosted by three very talented godesses: @jamaisjoons​​, @opaljm​ and @chateautae​. 💗 make sure to check out the rest of the fics’ summaries in the masterlist!

i have been slaving off on this one so harD for a month, i broke some of my own records by getting to 40 wpm and writing 7k words in a day, smh. and even though i have somehoW finished it up, it’s still not ready to be posted, currently undergoing some major editing. prepare yourselves for some pain, y’all~ 😩💜

— masterlist

— feedback is always appreciated!

“If we end up getting kidnapped by ghosts or some shit, I will kill you.”

You rolled your eyes at your roommate’s antics, ignoring her and walking ahead with intent. Street lights took turns to bathe the three of you in the color yellow, becoming your only source of light on the otherwise dark street. 

“I really do not understand how this is gonna help," Taehyung mumbled from next to her.

"I never understand anything she does, Tae, I'm—"

“You don’t have to understand your best friends to support them, Hyejie,” you teased, shoving your hands into your denim dress’ pockets. 

“I’m regretting giving you that title, just so you know. They're not even throwing a party tonight, why the heck would your guy be there?" Hyejin lamented to you. 

"I never said he would be. I just wanna check, in case he is. Just keep walking and we'll know."

It was Halloween and you were on your way to the place where you had met Jimin for two consecutive years.

"If we miss JK's thing because of this, I’m not gonna suck his cock to cheer him up."

You and Hyejin snorted at Taehyung’s words, with you looking at the guy over your shoulder with a deadpan. “I’m pretty sure he’s already getting it sucked as we speak, Tae.”

“I second that.”

“Hey!” Taehyung pouted at his girlfriend. “You’re not supposed to support her!”

“Didn’t you hear what she said? You don’t have to understand your best friends to support them,” Hyejin reiterated your words from earlier, and you laughed at the long face Taehyung pulled in response.

“Don’t make that face, you used to be like that, too, before I tamed you.”

You groaned at Hyejin’s words, already anticipating a fight. 

Taehyung proved you right by immediately scoffing with a, “you haven’t tamed me, I’ve just decided to calm down with my casanova days for a while.”

Your eyes widened. Did he just say ‘for a while’? Oh, no—

“Taehyung Kim, are you fucking kidding me?”

And there they went. 

You grudgingly slowed down to match the quarrelling couple’s pace, now really starting to regret bringing them along with you. You’d just felt wary because of the abandoned state of this place. But now that you thought about it, a pepper spray would’ve been a better companion.

You eyed the way you still had to go, noticing the familiar frat house a short distance ahead.

Hyejin and Taehyung had stopped walking, choosing to shout in each other’s faces as they stood nose to nose. With a sigh, you turned on your heels and decided to make your way down to the building.

It was becoming more apparent how this whole excursion had been a dumb idea as more time passed. But now, standing so close to the building that very obviously looked empty with no soul in sight anywhere in or outside of it, your lips turned down in acknowledgment of how ridiculous you had been.

You walked right up to the looming, triple storied house painted a beautiful olive green with white accents. Your eyes traced the balcony, similar to the one the building had in its back – the one you’d been on, last year, with Jimin.

“Oh, Jimin,” you morosely breathed, missing him so much that your chest felt tight.

A whisper of your name sounded from not far away, making you look around in alarm.

And then you saw him – sitting on the sidewalk, under the streetlight opposite the frat house, with his head lowered and eyes full of gloom. He hadn’t seen you yet, and your heart thundered in your ears at the realisation and he’d been saying your name to himself just as you had been his.

You kept staring at him, feet slowly coming to a stop. You'd looked for almost an entire year, came here to see if you could find him. But now that he was here, you had no idea what to do. You wanted to make your presence known and approach him, but you felt weirdly shy and awkward, thinking of the crush you had on him and the way it had made you act these past few months.

Then suddenly, as if having sensed your presence, his head suddenly shot up, alert eyes looking in your exact direction. You stood frozen to your spot like a deer caught in headlights.

Until, that was, he yelled your name across the empty road, his face split into a huge grin. You immediately jogged your way across the road to his side, meeting his grin with a shy smile of your own as he stood up to welcome you.

"Hey," he whispered, eyes running over your face like he had missed it.

Just like you had missed his. You did your own scanning of his features that seemed to elude joy and excitement instead of the heavy misery you’d noticed just moments before. 

You ducked your head with a timid wave. "Hey, yourself."

"What are you doing here?" He gestured around the empty street, tossing a glance past you at your friends. "It's past eight in the evening and this doesn’t look like a very proper or safe place."

“I came with friends, but… they got occupied with some stuff, half a mile back,” you explained, clearing your throat. "And I, uh, was actually hoping to find you here? Which I did. What are you doing here? The frat house is being renovated, so they moved the party this year.”

Jimin reached out with a hand to take yours, nibbling on his lower lip. “Would you believe me if I said I was hoping to see you?”

Well. Given how he had seemed to light up on discovering your presence, you kinda would believe him. 

Just as you had opened your mouth to respond, your eyes caught his dress-up. The same damn Prince outfit you’d been seeing for the past two years. You frowned in confusion. Even if you ignored the repetition, you were left wondering why he’d be dressed up in a costume when a party wasn’t even happening. Until you recalled Namjoon’s theories.

And then it felt like you were beginning to understand what was up; Jimin didn’t even just live off campus, he didn’t even study at your university. He just came here for this one party. He probably didn’t belong to a very well off family, which was why he wore the same outfit every year. 

You stepped closer to him, squeezing his hand. “I do.”

Jimin’s smile grew, pushing his eyes into the adorable, tiny slits you’d seen them be only once before. Your heart warmed at the sight.

“Good. But don’t be roaming such dark streets with friends that are irresponsible enough to leave you alone so carelessly.”

His concern made you bite your lip to hide your giddy smile. “Yeah, well. They’re kind of idiots, but they’re all I got, so…”

You looked over your shoulder, squinting in the dark in hopes of spotting their silhouettes.

“Uh, I think they actually left. Or they made up and are fucking in some alley,” you mumbled, bitter and irritated at the duo’s neverending drama.

Jimin laughed, pulling your grumpy self into his form, his arm curling around your back to hold you to him, and started to walk you both down the street. You smiled at the feeling of it.

note: look at me fool y’all with the fluffiest bit from the whole fic hahA!

send me an ask if you wanna be tagged when i post this!

[arcielee]

the salver & the sword

Artwork by @azperja 💜

paring: Suguru Geto x reader summary: Prince Satoru Gojo sends his trusted general, and friend, across the kingdom to retrieve the girl who saved him when he was a boy. You loathe the idea of having your life uprooted on the whim of some faraway prince, and General Suguru Geto is determined to see through his prince's command, by whatever means. word count: 4.7k warnings: AFAB reader, more pining and angst, kissing, vaginal fingering, p in v unprotected because this is a medieval au author's note: I am reading through the manga and enjoying knitting other characters into my story. Only 3 chapters to go!

Chapter VI - If I Am With You

With Mimiko gone, there was only the option to walk the day away, until you finally spotted the gold light pouring through the streets of Shiba, the early evening already thrumming with the combination of music and laughter. Suguru pushed through the noise, the saddle bags thrown over his shoulder and Nanako glinting from his backside. You followed after, holding onto your satchel, your stomach groaning at the savory smells of cooked goods and ale that was crisp in the autumn air. 

The town was brimming from some celebration, and every room was booked for the night. Your steps grew heavy with the dull ache for a proper bath and a bed where you could sleep for a hundred years, when the name Kento Nanami mentioned entered your weary mind. 

“Who is Yuki?” 

There was the flicker of something that was tucked beneath his mastered stoicism, though the same rose tones flushed over–just as it did when her name was first spoken. It pulsed a curiosity anew that tugged at your heart, begging to ask him, but you remained silent. You noticed the shift in his demeanor when you came to the town’s border, a hesitation from Suguru and his eyes flitting over before carving inconvenient pathways through the crowds. 

It was also the first time he had not directly addressed one of your questions. Instead, he paused and watched you for a moment, your exhaustion evident. Suguru sighed softly and reached for your hand. 

The gesture swept away your mind, lost with how your palm fit within his, and you allowed the warmth of his touch to guide your steps. Together, you weaved through the festivities, pushing through under you came to a villa that was decorated with men and women, dressed in their finery, leering over the veranda bannister to tease the possible patrons drunkenly waltzing by. 

You could feel the weight of their collective gaze turning to you and Suguru, a tittering excitement that could not be missed–the general has returned!

Your eyebrow arched at Suguru, but he would not look back at you. 

He was watching the woman who walked out to greet the commotion, aglow under the manmade lights and wearing a rich, silk gown tailored to her athletic figure. Her manicured hands held an unlit kiseru, toying with it. 

“Suguru Geto,” she said with a curl to her rosy lips, “you have been sorely missed.” 

Yuki Tsukumo was the madame and the matriarch of Shiba. Her crown was her golden hair that spilled down her backside, cut to frame her heart shaped face. She seemed to lord over from the top steps, her eyes dancing over you both. “Have you come to celebrate?”

Suguru sighed again. “I admit, I was not even aware there was a reason to.” He did not balk under her gaze and his smirk returned. “The days have been lost to me.” 

Another woman in red moved forward, lighting a match as Yuki pinched her fingers around the mouthpiece, her lips pulling a cloud of smoke. “Autumn has begun, or whatever excuse they wish to make so they can drink out in my streets.” 

His eyes did not stray. “You will have to excuse us then, as we have been preoccupied by the command of my prince.” 

“I was wondering if that was dealt with.” As she looked you over, you were determined to hold her gaze. “Are you the one Gojo has chosen? You have my sympathies.” 

It seemed almost patronizing and her words burned through you, simmering to the tips of your ears. She stepped down, closer, unbothered by your silence, and looked back to Suguru. “Why are you here?” “We need a place to stay tonight, Yuki,” he admitted. 

“Oh Geto, as you can see, we are very busy,” she giggled, more smoke spilling, “but I am certain any one of my bawds would happily welcome you back into their bed.” 

His jaw ticked, but his smirk remained. “We are only needing a place to rest for the night. Gojo is expecting us.” 

Her eyebrow arched. “Very well,” and she clucked her tongue, a shift to command, looking over her shoulder with the wave of her hand to summon the woman in red, as well as a man you had not noticed before. She then began to list off instructions that sparked lift into her staff surrounding her. 

The man was first to action, tall and fit, with a searing desperation to remain unseen amongst the whores surrounding him, but rapt to Yuki, his dark eyes only holding for her. “Choso,” –he brightened with his name– “be a dear and find the general a change of clothes.” 

“I also want a bath prepared for each of my guests,” her rose eyes watched the flutter of girls dividing to tend to the task, before settling back onto the remaining woman; her attention drawled over Suguru, glossy. “I want you to escort her to the bathhouse and make sure the room has been readied by the time they have finished–forgive me, Geto, but I only have one room to spare.” Yuki smirked before she sharpened onto the woman’s scowl. “Don’t pout. It is unbecoming.”  

Her dismissal set you in motion, pulling you inside the brothel and splitting from Suguru, his hand reluctant to let you go as Choso let him away. Your legs were numb to follow up the stairs, your mind whirling from the tobacco and the incense burning, from the words still echoing in your head–

You have been sorely missed.

You clutched onto your satchel, walking up the staircase that curved around. The woman you followed was busty with a voluptuous spill from her dress. Her hooded eyes cast over the railing, admiring Suguru and Choso as they walked away, before her gaze settled onto you, her grin cutting through on her painted lips.

“The general is just as handsome as I remember him,” she began, her tone dripping with implication. “Do you not agree?” 

Of course you did–it was written plain across your face for anyone to see. Your gait shifted to match her slowed-down pace, an unease prickling your skin as her eyes continued to flit over you. “He has filled out some from what I remember. More definition,” she continued with her coy sneer. “I wonder, is he still just as insatiable?”  

“I–” you swallowed and it clawed down your throat. “He and I… we are not together in that way.” 

You were aware of the differences between his life and your own, but it was now something that was palpable, perfumed, in front of you and you were choking on it. She had you pinned as a simpleton from the north, dressed in rags and swept away with the fantasy of General Suguru Geto because of how your hands interlaced with his. 

Stupid, you blinked, desperate to keep your tears from falling. 

“Oh, my mistake,” she continued her feign sincerity that raked through you “I had only assumed, but perhaps I should try and persuade him to my bed, allowing you the room to yourself?” 

The favor offered left you raw, flustered, unable to respond, but thankfully a door opened to see the girls from before filling a porcelain tub. A rich aroma wafted through the air of rose and lavender and eucalyptus, grounding you. 

“You may do whatever you wish.” Your words were tight, and you pushed past her, stepping through the door. 

They moved to leave you alone; you tore away your tattered clothes to disappear into the milk bath, slipping beneath the petals floating above for a scream that bubbled to the surface.  

Simpleton or not, you held no aversion to sex but understood that whatever traffic came through your small village could not compare to the promiscuity that seemed well known of General Suguru Geto. That thought did not bother you–in truth, you loathed how it enticed you further–but what gnawed through your bones to drag your heavy heart into the pit of your stomach was the realization of the abyss that existed between your worlds. 

That you could never satisfy. 

Not that it even mattered.

In less than two days, you would turn down the proposal of Prince Gojo and return to the north, or wherever your silver would allow you to reinstate and build your life again. And Suguru would remain, his devotion a detriment. 

And that was what rattled through you, splintering into your chest: that Suguru would no longer be in your life, and what was worse was you could not remember how it was before him. 

Stupid! You groaned, pressing your palms to cover your eyes, the fruitless wish that you would have just let Gojo drown. 

A sharp knock on the door pulled you from your misery. “Come in?” you asked, slipping to hide yourself beneath the water’s white surface.  

Yuki entered with a bundle of plum silk. “I have found something clean for you to wear,” she announced, moving to hang it behind the dressing screen. 

Before you could stop it, your mind thought of how the color would complement his eyes, and you wished you could drain away with the bathwater. “Thank you.” 

She did not leave, but moved towards the dresser, a clink of glass as she pinched some of the hair thin tobacco to pack into her pipe before lighting it. Smoke trailing with her steps as she moved to open the wooden shutters, allowing the celebration to faintly pour in, exhaling the blue hue of smoke back into the night. 

“How long have you known the general?”

Yuki smirked as if she had been expecting the question. “A very long time, back to when Gojo would slip away from his mother and drag Geto along.” She took another drag, seating herself on the window ledge and looked over at you. “I found I could empathize with the prince. And besides, the pair of them left quite the impression.” 

Of course they did. You wilted at her words, but chose to ask her something else. “What do you mean that you could empathize with the prince?” 

She tilted her head to appraise you, pleased with your question and happy to share. She was an esteemed lady of the court and one of the queen’s favorites. A favorable match had been made, but Yuki found that she loathed the man on sight. Perhaps it was because her father overindulged her shrewd mind, but she could not stomach being wasted on a man who had to interest in anything she had to say; he only wished for a gilded decoration. 

So she left. 

“Shiba was nothing more than a little village,” she smiled with the memory. “I had a villa built to serve as a reprieve. I pulled in traders passing through for Hoshi. Then, one day, the prince showed up and relished in my whores.” She glowed with her business savvy. “And here we are.” 

Relished. “Did they come often?” 

“They returned frequent enough.” She took another drag, smoke pouring from her painted lips. “They were insatiable, really.” 

Insatiable. Another word that gutted you. “Did…” you licked your lips, pulling the courage to ask, “did they have their favorites?” 

Your mind returned to the woman in red while Yuki thought for a moment. “Gojo did, but no one seemed to hold Geto’s attention, just whatever happened to pass by. But I will say that whenever the pair would show, everyone was desperate to catch the general’s eye.” 

You appreciated her blunt honesty. It needed to be said, the reaffirmation that no one could solely satiate the general… that you were nothing more than passing memory that glimmered in his amethyst eyes. 

You changed the subject. “Thank you again for your hospitality, though I assume that he will probably find somewhere else to sleep tonight.” You were not bitter, but wounded. 

“Perhaps.” Her rose eyes glittered. “But that does not mean you cannot have your own fun tonight.” 

The warm bath blotched your skin, crimson exploding across your features. “I do not want–” 

“The festival,” Yuki interrupted you, her laughter filling the room. “There will be vendors and dancing and fireworks. You should come with me and see all that Shiba has to offer.” 

+ + + +

By the time you finished bathing, Yuki called for more girls to come and help you get dressed. Silk was wrapped around to fit your form, flowing with your steps. Your hair was braided back to the nape, allowing the rest to fall and dry in the cool air. Scented oils were touched to the curve of your neck and wrists, a rose tint to your lips. 

You walked downstairs to see Yuki awaiting, the man named Choso shadowing her. Her mirthful eyes washed over you and stopped at your feet. “The boots will make it easier for me to navigate through the crowds,” you argued before she spoke a word. 

Her eyes glittered. “You are prettier than any of my girls,” she announced, reaching for your hand and pulling you to follow. 

Shiba was magical at night. Vendors were lined with their sweets and treats and different liquors on display while dancers floated through, their streamers trailing behind their graceful steps in synchrony to the music lilting above. The silver of the moon was halted by the shining amber arc created from the lamps and torches lit. People paused with a child-like wonder and rosy cheeks, watching the fireworks bursting above between the song interludes. 

Choso was quiet, a shadow that followed after Yuki. She pulled to lead, pausing at each booth to smile at the compliments poured over her and accept whatever gift presented. You indulged with a taste of everything, anything she placed in your hands with a plum wine to wash it down. 

Benches were placed to sit and spectate. You seated yourself next to Yuki, untying the cloth to share the yaki-garu, peeling the chestnuts to taste. Choso remained standing, ever watchful, ever devoted, though his shyness melted once Yuki finally settled her eyes onto him. As another dance recital began, she looked at you before she decided to pull him away for a stolen moment. 

You remained seated, smiling, savoring the memory of the night, allowing it to embed into your bones. It would be something you pulled when you were old and gray, a recollection retrieved with a sweet sigh and smile. 

It was your name that pulled you back, cutting through, sharp and distinct. Your head snapped to see Suguru, his height above the villagers as he pushed towards you. His face was twisted, but not with the anger to match his tone, but a fear, a desperation you had never seen before. 

“I have been searching everywhere for you.” His voice was rasped and you stood up, the chestnuts falling to the ground as he reached for you. “You cannot just take off like that. What if something would have happened–” 

“But nothing happened,” you found yourself snapping, wrenching from his hold. Your agitation twisted on your face, spilling hot from your tongue. “I just assumed that you wished for time to socialize, as you seem so very popular in Shiba.” 

He steeled his jaw, but did not touch you again. “I would not think you would damn me for my past actions.” 

Always a statement, and never a question, but either way, he seemed wounded. It was not what you wanted, but you could not stop. “I did not want to keep you from whatever your… insatiable appetite desired.” 

He pushed closer, spilling into your space, his arms reserved at his sides and his purple eyes sparked with the light around. “You are stubborn to a fault, and every thought that enters your head will spill off your tongue. You have isolated yourself in a way that I wonder if you are refusing Satoru solely because you cannot allow anyone to become close to you.” 

It rattled your bones with a fury that seared to the surface. “I was trying to be considerate of what you wanted.” Your tone was biting, spurred by the busty woman from earlier–I should try and persuade him to my bed. “Was it not what you wanted?” 

Amethyst pierced through you, holding you still. “I asked you this before, but,” his voice was low, pulling you in, gooseflesh rippling up your backside. “What do you want?” 

You sputtered. “I asked you first!”

“No,” he corrected, his insufferable smirk curling back onto his lips. “You did not ask me anything, but only made assumptions.” 

“You always brim with this arrogance that you have bordered around you, walling off everyone.” You could not answer him, not with the desperation burning through you, torn between taking a step away or a step closer towards him. Suguru just watched you. “I ask you questions because I only wished to know you, but still you hold things to your chest. And your sense of duty is your excuse to keep anyone from coming close to you.” 

He dared to step closer, and you felt his heat pooling off of him. Any anger hinted from before was gone, his eyes scraping across the surface to pull apart your words. He was the moon and you were the tide, helpless with your highs and lows to be determined with whatever he would say. 

“I will ask you one more time,” –his voice was for you to hear alone, whisking the noise around you away– “what do you want?” 

The time you shared with Suguru came through flashes, memories also embedded, pouring a molten courage over to command you. It sparked with the words from Runa–he would never try anything. 

You stepped closer, your fingers trembling to hold onto his forearms, anchoring yourself to push onto your tiptoes, to touch your lips to his own. His mouth was soft and warm and it shuddered through you, your mind screaming for him to pull you in and never let you go. 

He held still and the moment stretched into an eternity, unreciprocated, shattering when your feet touched the ground again. Suguru was stunned, still watching you. 

And you ran.

Your embarrassment burned bright, igniting into your soles, your boots allowing your steps to grab onto the earth and propel yourself back towards the villa. Your mind continued to scream–you kissed him, you kissed Suguru, and it was everything you could admit you wanted, but your dilemma festered alongside a sense of indigeneity: it was something only you clearly wanted. 

You left Suguru behind, rooted by that damnable devotion. 

That thought shattered through you, shards of the fantasy that had been building now dug into you, encouraging you to flee. You ran until you saw the brothel, inside to closed doors to entertain paying patrons while the rest was emptied to enjoy the celebration. 

Your lungs burned as you continued up the stairs, your hand following the railing that wrapped upwards. Your clumsy steps returned you to the room that was prepared and you closed the door, your backside barring against as you sunk to the floor, struggling to catch your breath. 

I have to leave, your mind tacked together your next actions, adrenaline flaring a white nonsense in your mind, I will find Gojo and the queen and I will release him from this damn errands, and then I will leave and never, ever return–

There was a knock on the door that vibrated through you, pinning you to the oak floor. It did not falter and you groaned to stand, wiping your face with your sleeve, preparing to greet Yuki, or perhaps Choso, wondering where the hell you had run off to. 

But instead, you opened to see Suguru. 

His chest was heaving, his arms spread open and posted on both sides of the door frame to hold himself up. His hair was disheveled, windswept, and red stained his pale skin in blotches. He looked at you, his eyes bright, his smirk spreading across his sharp jaw. “You are,” he said between breaths, “faster than you look.” 

Your eyes widened. “Suguru…” 

He pushed through, reaching to pull you in with the tide, and you allowed yourself to be swept away, melting against his chest. He tilted his chin to reclaim your mouth with vigor, the heat from his palms burning through your silk as one hand followed your lower back to pull you closer, his other following up the curve of your spine and holding onto the nape of your neck, devouring you. 

Your heart sang, screaming as he pulled the air from your lungs. You wrapped your arms around his neck, desperate to be even closer, and he responded, his arms curling around your waist and lifting you enough for wide steps to walk you backwards until you felt the edge of the bed pressing into the back of your calves. 

Only then did Suguru break away from you, his mouth moving along your jawline back to the soft divot below your ear, his exhale tickling and his teeth nipping at your pulse. Your skin rose in response from a warmth that poured into your core, calling for him. 

“Suguru,” you breathed, taking in his sweat that mixed sinfully with the soap you gifted him, that heady scent that seized through you. 

“I’m here,” he murmured against your skin, pushing until you melted back into the mattress. He moved on top of you, his knee nudging your thighs apart to slot himself between. “I will not let you run away again.”

You blinked. He was teasing you, even now–! 

You opened your mouth to respond but he captured your lips again, his tongue curling to taste you, the sweetness from the chestnuts and wine. He found a rhythm that made you moan, and he pressed against you with a delicious weight that made your body burn. 

He smiled through the kiss as your fingers combed through his hair, pouring your passion into him. His fingers moved to peel away the top layer of silk until it puddled beneath you, pausing to admire how your curves pressed against the slip, how your nipples pebbled beneath. His tongue wet his lips. “Where do you want me to kiss you?” 

“Anywhere,” you reached for his collar, helping him pull his tunic over his head, the obsidian spill of his hair falling on his bare shoulders. “Everywhere,” you whispered with a kiss to his lips. 

Black swallowed the color of his eyes, his head dipping to place open-mouth kisses to your skin that was showing, pulling a heat that simmered to the surface. 

You writhed, you burned, you begged, “Suguru,” but he returned to swallow your sounds with another kiss that slow, searching, fluttering through your veins; your head was spinning. 

His fingers pulled at your hem to help you remove the silk slip. You were bare beneath him and his mouth moved over to worship your curves, a soft touch of his lips and tongue to taste. 

You gasped at the sensation and he pushed closer, coming up to find your lips while his fingers followed back to the divot between your thighs and slipping between your silken folds. Pleasure bloomed from his touch, his fingers searching until the softest sounds began to spill from your lips. 

He hummed into your mouth, his lips curling with his kiss. His touch was bold, sparking through you with his heedful circular motion against your bundle of nerves. 

It thrilled you. “Please, Suguru,” you gasped. 

“Not yet,” he murmured, his velvet voice tickling your skin. He kissed you again, his lips trailing beneath your jaw as his fingers continued to pull a pleasure that threatened to spill. You whined and Suguru shifted his weight, his hand moving with the craftful curl of his finger that pressed deep, sparking something that shimmered bright before your eyes. 

Your moan spilled loud and lewd from your kiss-swollen lips, your eyes glassy as he added another finger to the slick, sinful tandem, pumping in-and-out of you. It trilled the length of your spine, fluttering, pulling you towards a precipice that shuddered throughout. 

It was his kiss that followed that served as the catalyst, tipping you over to fall into the white-hot pleasure that wrenched the air from your lungs. He did not stop, but whispered sweet nothings into your ear, his fingers coaxing you through your peak while your heart stuttered against your chest, tears pearling in the corners of your eyes. 

Suguru pressed another kiss to your cheek, grounding you again, and you looked over to watch him retrieve his hand, his tongue cleaning his fingers and his smirk returning to his mouth. It was a salacious pulse that spilled onto the sheets, and you grabbed for him, pulling him close for your tangy taste that now stained his lips. 

Your fingers trembled to follow the smooth plains of his chest, tracing the scars that carved silver against his skin. Your touch stumbled down towards his heavy press against his slacks, and you paused, blushing at his size. 

He caught your elbow, he pulled you close. “We go with your pace,” he promised, kissing your lips, your cheek. “I am in no hurry.” 

You pushed him to lay back, helping to loosen the laces, and his thumbs hooked in the waistband to pull them lower. It was your turn to admire his chiseled chest and abdomen, the lines that cut into his hips. 

Suguru helped move you to straddle him, your plush thighs caging him to the bed and his length flushed, pressing upwards against his stomach. He pushed up to wrap his arm around your waist, the other pressed back to balance on the bed. He buried his face into your chest with soft kisses that tickled. 

You squirmed, your arousal spilling, and moved to lift your hips. He moved his other arm around to help line himself with your entrance, and you were slow, shaking to ease yourself onto him; Suguru molded into you, pressing against your seams.

He held onto you, his face pressing into your neck with a loan groan that reverberated throughout. You grasped at his shoulders, panting, adjusting to his girth. Suguru tilted his head up to look at you, the same careful consideration as always, and you kissed him.

It rekindled your pleasure, your boldness that burned for him, and you slowly rocked your hips against him. He groaned again, falling back onto the bed, his large hands dimpling to hold onto your hips. His neck bobbed as he watched you, a rose dusting on his cheeks that spilled onto his neck and chest; you relished his reaction when your thighs squeezed, your pace quickening.

His hands encouraged your movement, and his hips lifted to meet with your motion. You felt it building again, curling at the base of your spine, a flutter of your walls around him. His palm moved to the inside of your thigh, until his thumb could press into you with the same circular motion as before that allowed the stars to burst bright before your eyes. 

You nearly cried from the euphoria that twisted through you, pulsing and clenching tight to pull Suguru after, his brow furrowed with a guttural groan. Your head was empty and he pushed up to catch you, holding you until your heart settled, until your breathing was an exchange with his inhale to your exhale. 

“Move for me.” He pressed a kiss to your hairline, pulling away. You rolled onto your side to watch him pour water from the basin and wrung out a cloth, returning to clean the sticky spill between your thighs. 

You giggled with his concentration, his careful touch. He blew softly against your skin and it rose in response. “That tickles!” 

He was still flushed, his smile boyish. “I know.” 

He wiped himself off before he returned to the bed. Suguru then pulled you against his chest, the bare entanglement of limbs knitting into one another and holding you close like before, until your heartbeats found a familiar rhythm with one another, until your breathing was an intimate exchange. 

taglist: taglist: @sugurubabe @elliesndg @paprikaquinn @yeehawbrothers @witchbybirth @thenameswinter99

arcie's navi | jjk masterlist the salver & the sword masterlist

[hikariamai]

Sweet Slumber 🌙

{A:N: Another mostly unedited, tiny drabble because the JuminV feels are STRONG. 💜 💙 }

Word count: 369

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It wasn't often that things played out like this. Usually the tiniest disturbance in Jihyun's sleeping woke the heir in a worry. Whether it be a shift beside him, or even the switch his breathing took just before he was about to wake. Typically, if V was awake, Jumin was too.

Tonight however, he had managed to wake up while Jumin still slept soundly beside him, broad arm draped across his chest in protection and gathered close. The rise and fall of the heir's breathing rhythmic in its rest. The moonlight that filtered in bathing against his features, the gentle part of his lips, the way his eyelashes intertwined together, everything about his love was beautiful even in sleep.

V inhaled lightly, the desire to reach out and touch, or even to grab a camera to capture this rare moment was strong. He knew if he were to do the latter Jumin would wake, and the fact he wasn't awake right now seemed to be a testament to how tired he was.

The photographer would have to make do with a visual memorization. Still, he gently reached out and splayed fingers against warm, bare chest. A mild heart beat danced against his fingers with the rising and falling of his chest. To think such a warm heart beat for him. To think so many misrepresented him as being cold and emotionless. Seeing him now, in a state so vulnerable, it was hard to believe he was any other way. I

Jihyun smiled softly, shifting closer still in the bed, grip around him tightening with the movement. Lashes slowly parted, greys searching for mint. “Jihyun?” Sleep cracked voice called out, confusion apparent as mint hues gazed back without the haziness of sleep.

“Go back to sleep. Nothing is wrong.” Smooth voice soothed, resting against chest as the body heat radiated between the two.

Grip tightened still, grey hues slowly waking and taking stock of Jihyun and then slowly around the room. He relaxed slightly, finding nothing wrong as he placed a light kiss against the top of mint hair. “You sleep.”

V exhaled contently, wrapped in his love’s scent and embrace. “Yes. I will. I am safe… all thanks to you.”