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theragethatisdesire · 1 year

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three's a... - jean kirschstein x afab!reader x eren jaeger - 18+!!!

i feel like i have mentioned the possibility of giving y'all an erejean threesome way too many times to keep holding out on you, so now that i've finally nitpicked this fic to death, here we are!! literally living my dreams vicariously through this fic. i'm still not 100% happy with it, but eren and jean are sexy here and are doing half of the work of making this worth the read for me lolol. it's also written mostly through jean's pov which was interesting to play with.

pairing: eren jaeger x reader x jean kirschstein

wc: 6.5k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, threesome, established relationship (eren's ur perfect bf and u guys can't stop having sex with jean lol), unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, rough sex, vaginal fingering, degradation, biting, dirty talk, penetrative vaginal sex, anal (fingering and fucking), swearing, use of names (slut, brat, pretty girl, good girl, angel), mean dom eren vs soft dom jean, multiple orgasm, dacryphilia/crying, creampie, double penetration, bicurious jean and bicurious eren (tasty, they definitely don't keep their hands to themselves), polyamory implied

buckle up, this was a blast to write and i hope it's equally as fun to read. enjoy <33

Jean should definitely not be here.

He should absolutely not be on his living room couch with Eren Jaeger’s girlfriend’s head in his lap, playing idly with her hair. By all traditional conventions and rules of exclusive relationships, Jean’s fairly sure that letting your girlfriend rest her head on the crotch of your roommate while he strokes her hair is on the no-no list. Not for Eren, apparently, who has your feet in his lap on the other end of the couch, playing with your toes absentmindedly and making you giggle and kick him in protest. Jean should not be here, but you and Eren have made a habit of roping him into circumstances that he would never admit to, not even at gunpoint.

If Jean is brutally, painfully honest with himself, he knows he had gotten himself into this. You were just so cute, wisping around their apartment in a big tshirt and tiny shorts in the mornings, always making sure to save him a cup of coffee. Maybe he had let his lingering glances linger just a little too long, smirked over his coffee mug at you one too many times, come up behind you to help you reach something on the top shelf and leaned a little too close, Jean couldn’t pinpoint exactly what caused Eren to notice his clear attraction towards you, but he did. Instead of getting his ass kicked like he had expected when you and Eren sat down to confront him, Jean had learned something.

Eren Jaeger has a greedy, spoiled brat of a girlfriend.

That had been the first time Jean came in you, fucking into your throat while Eren watched from across the room, palming over the bulge in his jeans. The second time, the two of you had invited Jean out for a drink, which, in hindsight, he should have seen the ulterior motive from a mile away. He had ended up cumming in your pussy, bending you over in the bar bathroom with Eren’s cock in your mouth. The third time had been in Eren’s bedroom as you rode him, Eren sitting behind you and working your hips over Jean’s cock as you wailed.

Jean had stopped his ministrations in your hair as he was reflecting on how exactly he got into this situation, trying very hard not to think too far into the filthy details to prevent propping your head up with an erection. You make a little noise of discontent, grabbing at his hands and urging them back to your hair.

“Jean, don’t stop. Feels good.”

Jean’s mouth tightens into a thin line at your choice of words, words he’s heard from you before under very different circumstances, but he obliges. So much for self control. Eren raises a smug eyebrow at him from across the couch.

“You’re giving her what she wants, right, Kirschtein?”

Jesus, you two are insatiable, still managing to grate on Jean’s razor-thin willpower with all of your clothes on. Jean wonders briefly what the appeal is for Eren, if he gets off on watching you take another man’s cock, bring another man near to tears with your warm, silken cunt. Does Eren enjoy dangling you in front of Jean until he’s forced to give in? Eren’s gaze lingers on Jean’s hands, threading through your hair, awaiting an answer.

“Yeah,” Jean says, not trusting any more words to his loose lips. They’ve already betrayed him three times now, saying yes when they should have been saying no.

“Good,” Eren responds simply, offering a small smile that, to anyone else, looks innocent. Jean knows Eren better than that. He watches as Eren’s hand travels up your bare leg, coming to rest on your upper thigh. You’re affected by it, such a simple touch, such a sensitive little body; he can feel you tense over his thighs.

Jean steels his jaw and forces his eyes back over to the movie. He’s got to stop playing these fucked up games of yours, it’s bad for him and he knows it. He hasn’t dated in months, not since you’d first pulled him into your little world, can’t bring himself to look at anyone else, can’t stand the thought of feeling anyone else’s skin under his fingers. His little crush has bloomed into full-blown lovesickness, and it would be best for him if he just stopped.

All of that ironclad willpower melts away in an instant when you let out a little moan.

Eren’s hand has snuck its way up to your shorts, nudging at the apex of your thighs. His focus is still trained on whatever reality show you’ve put on, completely ignoring the way you sigh under his touch. Jean’s cock twitches in his pants; this is his opportunity to hesitate, to say no, but he stays silent, only watching as you squirm in his lap.

“Eren,” your chastisement comes out as a breath. One of your hands comes to meet Eren’s, trying to push him away, but he simply swats your hand, shooting you a stern look.

“Behave,” Eren warns, eyes dark and dangerous. Jean’s learned that Eren’s mean to you, snappy when you put on your little attitude and fight back, but Jean doesn’t have the willpower. He holds you gently while he fucks into you hard, gives you anything you ask for.

You bite your lip and turn your head back to the TV, one hand coming up to pull Jean’s away from your head, wrapping your fingers around his. Jean’s breath hitches in his throat when you squeeze tight, back arching like you’re holding back a moan; Eren’s worked his way into your panties now, rubbing little circles over your clit.

“Look, Jaeger,” Jean makes a half-hearted attempt to remove himself, pulling his hand from yours and making all the movements to suggest he’s going to stand up, “I should–”

“What?” Eren cocks his head, as casual as if they’re discussing the weather. “Look at her, you really gonna just leave her there like that while I’m teasing her?”

Against his better judgment, Jean flicks his eyes down towards you. It’s a pitiful sight, your eyes already glossed over and staring up at him, wide and pleading, your bottom lip tucked in tight between your teeth.

“Jean,” his name comes out of your mouth, broken and already heady with arousal. That’s what snaps his resolve clean in two. You need him.

“What is it?” Jean hates the fondness in his voice, so glaringly obvious in front of your fucking boyfriend. Eren doesn’t seem to mind, though; he picks up speed, making you wriggle impatiently.

“Wanna kiss,” you whimper, reaching up towards his face.

“Don’t,” Eren stops Jean from leaning down, “she’s been bad today.”

“Is that so?” Jean rubs a thumb over your lips, frowning down at you. He can see the guilt in the way your brows knit together; oh, you have been bad, and you know it.

“Wouldn’t stop begging me for you, wanted to snuggle with Jeanie,” Eren raises his voice to mock you, slapping a hand against your clit and making you jump.

Jean’s face burns; is this it? Is this finally Eren telling him that you’re off-limits, finally deciding that Jean’s had his fill? And he’s going to rub it in his face by torturing you on Jean’s lap?

“Tell him,” Eren demands, another sharp smack landing on your cunt.

“Didn’t want to wait t-til you got home,” your face is already blotchy, eyes clouded with shame, “wanted Eren to text you and make you leave work.”

“And what did I say?”

“Be patient,” your voice wavers, Jean’s heart pounds in his ears, “and Jean would come take care of me.”

“So needy,” Eren tuts down at you, cruelly shoving a finger into your wet heat and instantly removing it, drawing a breathy whine from you, “see?”

Eren’s offering his finger to Jean, shining with slick, eyebrows lifted insistently. Jean narrows his eyes, cocks his head. What game is he playing at?

“What, don’t want a taste?” Eren’s eyes glint in the low light, taunting him. Jean leans forward hesitantly, lets the other man slide a thick finger between his lips. You always taste so good, salty and tangy; Jean feels a groan rumble deep in his chest. The corner of Eren’s mouth curls ever so slightly. Whatever game he’s playing, Jean’s losing. “Touch her, but no kisses. She has to behave if she wants that.”

You pout, bottom lip still wobbling where you’ve pushed it out, but you arch your back a little, straining your tits against your tank top. Jean knows you well enough by now, knows you chose that thin little top and didn’t wear a bra just for him, just to tempt him. You have been bad, but Jean doesn’t care, could never care when you’re looking up at him all sweet and needy. But he knows better than to disobey Eren’s rules, for your sake. Eren will edge you for the rest of the night, make himself cum, and leave you out to dry.

“Jean, please–”

“Sh,” Jean shushes you, sits you up just a little so he can pull your tank top over your head, “I’ve gotcha. Just be good for us, alright?”

You nod and smile drunkenly as he cups your breasts, kneading your nipples between his fingers. They’re one of his favorite things about you; he can’t resist leaning down to place sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along your hot skin, lick around your nipples just light enough to tease. Maybe Jean can be a little mean too.

“More,” you gasp, fingers coming to clutch at his head, “more, I– oh!”

Jean’s eyes flit down your body to see Eren’s now got two long fingers shoved knuckle-deep in you, curling them fast enough to make you cry out, roll your hips up towards him. If he looks closely, he can see a wet patch forming on the crotch of your shorts; it makes his cock throb. He’s never met a woman that gets as wet as you, filthy at the slightest touch.

“You’re so messy,” Jean voices his mind without exactly meaning to, pulling himself from you so he can prop you up against his chest and let you look at the mess you’ve made. You give him a little whine of protest, tilting your chin up towards him, searching for his mouth.

“Please, I want–”

“I know what you want,” Jean thumbs at your lip, “he’s mean, isn’t he? Making you behave yourself when all you want is a little love, isn’t that right?”

“Mhm,” you manage to shoot a scathing glare at Eren that makes Jean chuckle, makes Eren smack your thigh hard enough to echo throughout the room.

“Stupid little slut,” Eren growls, moving his fingers faster, “you’re just all about Jean because he spoils you, aren't you? Someone has to make sure you behave yourself.”

Jean’s eyes widen; Eren’s clearly in a mood today, and Jean hopes it doesn’t have anything to do with his presence. Eren’s a mixed bag most times. Jean’s overheard him making soft, quiet love to you, little praises slipping out from the crack in his bedroom door, but Jean’s also watched Eren edge you to the point of tears, spit on your cunt, spank you until you bruise. Maybe Eren’s jealousy finally is getting the better of him, Jean thinks, maybe he just can’t say no to your insatiable appetite, and he is actually pissed that you had begged him for Jean.

“Jean,” you’re clutching at his shirt, moaning pathetically as Eren sucks harsh bites into your thighs.

“Did it to yourself,” Jean shakes his head at you sadly, “you know better than to make him mad.”

“Shut her up,” Eren nods his head at your mouth meaningfully, “I’ve heard enough out of her for today.”

It takes some awkward repositioning, but Jean’s able to pull his cock out, tap it against your tongue where you’ve already got your mouth hanging open, drool pooling on his lap under your cheek.You shove yourself up with some effort, and take Jean almost to the hilt on your first go, slurping lewdly around him. Jean nearly chokes.

“Oh, you are needy today,” he hisses, threading his fingers through your hair, making sure his view remains unobstructed. “That what you wanted? My cock in your throat?”

You manage a stiff nod around him in between the muffled moans you’re letting out around his cock; Eren’s added his thumb to the mix now, pulling your panties to the side so he can swipe at your clit.

“She was fuckin’ drooling for it earlier,” Eren says, meeting Jean’s eyes with a smirk, “should have seen her, all pouty and sad because her Jeanie wasn’t here. Pathetic.”

In the small part of Jean’s brain that’s still able to think rationally with his cock nudging at your gag reflex, he’s frowning in confusion. Eren is pissed at you because you were begging for Jean, and here he is spurring Jean on in fucking into your throat. It makes no fucking sense, really, but Jean’s getting his dick sucked, and not for the first time, by the woman he’s been pining after for months, so who is he to question it?

“Mmph!” You squeal, mouth too full to form a real sound, hips canting up violently towards Eren. Eren laughs, low and cruel.

“Aw, I think she’s gonna cum soon,” Eren pulls his fingers from you, a tear slips down your cheek. “Pity.”

Your cry of protest is whimpered by Jean standing up slightly, angling his hips to plunge as deep as he can. He’s only had his cock in your mouth a few times, but Jean’s intuitive. He knows how much you can take, knows exactly how far to push you before it’s too much.

“Don’t whine, baby,” Jean huffs, “just gonna make him more mad. He won’t let me help you if you don’t behave.”

“Look at you,” Eren runs his hands along your thighs, leans down to press a chaste kiss over where you’ve ruined your shorts, “being a good girl for us. S’that what it takes for you to behave? Need both of us?”

If Jean’s not mistaken, the garbled sound you make around him is one of agreement. The thought goes straight between his legs, brings him far closer to the edge than he’d like to be at this point. He pulls your mouth off of him, making you pout.

“But–”

“I know, I know, you want it,” Jean rubs an affectionate thumb over your cheek, “but you want me to fuck you, too, right?”

“Please,” you breathe, reaching down to wiggle your shorts off. Eren’s face lights up.

“Wanna show him your little surprise, baby?” Eren’s tugging at your shorts now, ripping them off and tossing them to the sides. He puts his hands under your arms, yanking you out of Jean’s lap and throwing your chest over his shoulders. When Eren’s hands come to your cheeks, spreading them so Jean can see, Jean’s heart nearly stops. There’s a little pink rhinestone glittering where your asshole should be– a plug, keeping you open and ready. Eren meets Jean’s eyes, daring. “She picked it out just for us. Want us both, don’t you? Nasty little thing.”

Eren punctuates his statement with a grin and a sharp slap to your ass that makes you jump, nod desperately from behind him. Jean reaches a cautious hand over, puts two fingers around the toy and pulls lightly, just enough to watch it move in you. You whine; he can see your empty cunt flutter.

“Can she take it? Both of us?”

“Oh yeah,” Eren brushes off Jean’s concern, “been using all her little toys for weeks, making me practice with her. She can take it.”

With that, Jean’s standing, padding into his room and knowing Eren’s following with you still tossed over his shoulder. His head spins; you, his precious little toy, have been stretching yourself out, getting yourself ready to have two cocks in you? The thought nearly makes Jean moan to himself, imagining how tight you’ll be all stuffed full.

Eren’s thrown you on the bed none too gently, stripping as you look up at him, hearts in your eyes. He stops midway through pulling his clothes off to grab your chin, offer your pleading gaze to Jean.

“Why don’t you ask him, hm?” Eren coos, looking between you and Jean with a filthy grin on his face. “Ask him again, see if you’ve been good.”

“Will you kiss me, Jean? Please?” Your voice has that thin, fucked out tone to it that drives Jean crazy, makes him want to make you cry.

“Yeah princess, I’ll kiss you.” He leans down, takes your soft mouth in his, Eren never releasing his hold on your chin. Jean can taste himself on your tongue, smiling appreciatively at the salty tang. Eren rips you away far too soon, pressing his mouth down on you far rougher than Jean had. They balance each other well, Jean thinks, the gentle caresses and the sharp slaps that make you come undone under them in a way neither of them can manage alone.

“On your knees, brat,” Eren sneers, the shred of tenderness that he’d grabbed your face with long-gone, “convince us to fuck you stupid.”

You nod obediently, sliding off the bed and onto your knees, reaching for Jean. He steps forward, letting you hold his cock in your little hand, rub up and down while you take Eren in your mouth. Even your hands are enough to drive him crazy, so soft and supple around him; Jean’s head falls back.

“Fuck,” Eren sucks a sharp breath in between his teeth, “that’s it, baby, take it.”

Something possesses Jean, what it is he can’t be sure, but he reaches a hand down to the back of your head, pushing you further down Eren’s length. He half-expects Eren to chastise him for it, but Eren groans, long and loud, a sound that simmers in Jean’s stomach.

Jean watches the contractions of Eren’s abs, trails his eyes up to where the other man’s strong chest is heaving, a strange, hot sensation trickling through his center. It’s too late to look away once he realizes he’s been caught, but instead of finding amusement when he meets Eren’s eyes, Jean finds something else entirely.

Eren’s looking at Jean the way he looks at you, all lusty and uninhibited. Jean nearly scowls at him, everything he’s internalized over the years rearing its head in his chest, but Eren stops him with a hand wrapped around the back of Jean’s neck. In the blink of an eye, there’s a set of lips on his, a sharp tongue licking into his mouth.

Jean lets out a wanton, strung out moan that Eren swallows, echoes with one of his own. Jean notices that your head has stilled under his hand, and he shoves you back onto Eren’s cock mindlessly, relishing in the way Eren’s mouth stutters against his own when you retch around him. He trails his hand, tentative and exploratory, up to Eren’s hair, grabs the bun at the back of his head and pulls. Jean’s surprised at the heat beneath his palm; he’s always known Eren runs hot, especially after the last few times he’s fucked you. It’s only natural to brush arms, brush legs during the act, but Eren’s skin is scalding, damp with sweat under his touch.

It’s not Jean’s first kiss with a man, not by any means, but he’d never guessed that Eren, headstrong, manly, unreadable Eren, had this in him. Had it been hiding there for all of these years? Was it a spur of the moment thing, that Eren would look back on and cringe at later?

Doubt getting the better of him, Jean breaks first, pulls away with a quiet smacking sound. Eren’s eyes are just as wide as his feel, searching Jean’s face for any sign of regret, of satisfaction, of something. A loud whine from below distracts them both, and whatever odd moment was forming is broken as they look down at you.

Your chin is covered in drool from where you’ve been choking on Eren, gagging around him, and your eyes are glossy and needy. Jean’s cock gets impossibly harder.

“What?” Eren taunts. “You jealous that I kissed your Jeanie?”

“Yeah,” you pout, brows knitting, but Jean can see the arousal written into your features. You liked it.

“Get up,” Jean says to you, voice hard and unforgiving.

You follow his instruction, standing on shaking legs. Jean can see the snark in your eyes before it comes out of your lips. “What, finally going to pay attention to me now?”

As soon as the words have left your mouth, Eren’s hand is around your jaw, wrenching it open for him to spit into your mouth. “Don’t fucking talk back, not if you want to cum.”

“You were doing so good,” Jean rubs a hand over your hip, guiding you to lay on top of him on the bed, “what, are you that desperate for us that you can’t mind your manners?”

“I just–”

“Want both of your slutty little holes filled?” Eren scoffs, kneeling on the bed behind where you’re straddling Jean’s hips. “Yeah, we know.”

You frown and lean down to Jean, searching for consolation, but he shoves you to sit back up, admiring the way your chest bounces with the movement.

“Can’t be nice to you all the time,” Jean’s voice is low, dangerous, “not when you act like a brat.”

He can see the heartbreak on your face, revels in it, but it’s short lived. Your eyes fly open as Eren works the plug out of you, tossing it to the side and wrapping an arm around you to take your neck in his hand. Eren looks down at Jean, exchanges a conspiratorial smirk with him.

“Why don’t you ask Jean if you can sit on it while I work you open, hm?”

Your eyes glisten pleadingly at Jean, but something’s come over him. He realizes he likes drawing those begging moans out of you, likes holding you over the edge between the tips of his fingers. Jean shrugs.

“Show me how bad you want it.”

While Eren reaches over to scrounge around for the lube in Jean’s bedside table, you start to work your hips over Jean’s cock, slicking it up with how wet you already are. Jean grabs you by the back of the neck, pulls you to him to drink down the little whimpers and moans that escape your lips.

“Jean, please,” you sigh into his mouth, “I need you.”

Jean’s resolve wavers, but he stands firm. “Beg.”

“I–” hot tears of shame are welling in your eyes now, Jean wants to lick them from your cheeks– “please, I need it, need your cock in me, please, Jean.”

“What do you think, Eren?” As Jean asks the question, it strikes him just how often he refers to the other man simply as “Jaeger”, not by his first name. In his mind, ‘Jaeger’ is his friend of many years, and ‘Eren’ is the man that he had just inexplicably, passionately kissed. “Think she’s earned it?”

“Let’s see how she takes my fingers,” Eren replies, slicking his fingers up with lube and forcing two into your already-stretched hole with ease, making you squeak in surprise, “oh fuck, she’s already so stretched out for us. Yeah, give her what she wants, let her warm up to it.”

“Thank you, t-thank you,” you stammer, out of your mind with want as Jean slides the head of his cock into you with a long groan.

“Shit,” Jean growls, holding onto you tight to prevent your hips from pushing down on him too fast, filling you up too quickly with Eren’s fingers hard at work in your other hole. Maybe he is the nice one, after all. “So fucking tight for me, aren’t you?”

“Mhm, for you,” you hum, lip tucked in your teeth.

“Think she likes you more than me,” Eren smirks from over your shoulder, working a third finger into you and making your jaw drop. For his part, Jean bottoms out, hissing as you pulse around him. He can feel Eren’s fingers scissoring through your walls, eyes rolling back into his head at the sensation.

“You okay? Is it too much?” Jean notices one of those tears that had sparkled in your eyes earlier threatening to fall, grabbing your face and forcing you to look at him. You look beautiful, all stretched around him and fucked out, mind blank.

“It’s a lot,” you nod, sniffle, “but I’m okay, I can take him. Want to, want– need you both.”

Eren’s eyes darken, and Jean can feel him remove his fingers, feel the accommodating stretch of your walls able to breathe again. Jean takes your hips in his hands, rolling you along his cock to grant both of you some of the friction you desperately need. You mewl, leaning over to wrap your arms around his shoulders. Eren’s lining up behind you, running a soothing hand over your back.

“Deep breaths, baby,” Jean instructs you, holding you to his chest. You sniffle and nod into his shoulder, muscles tense and twitching.

“Tell me if it’s too much, alright angel?” Eren leans over to press a surprisingly tender kiss between your shoulder blades and gives Jean a signaling nod, which Jean returns.

Jean can feel it the moment Eren pushes in, feel your body stretching itself to accommodate both of them. You squeal into the skin of Jean’s shoulder that you’ve taken between your teeth, and it hurts, but he lets you, rubbing circles on your lower back.

“Doing so good for us, baby,” Jean hums, pressing his lips to your ear, “too much?”

You shake your head, whimpering as Eren pushes in further.

“God, she’s– shit, it’s so fucking tight,” Eren growls, jaw clenched and a little vein protruding in his neck from the effort of holding himself back, reining in the part of himself that just wants to snap his hips forwards into you.

“Yeah, she is,” Jean chokes out, feeling suffocated by the way you’re pulsing around him, by the pressure of Eren’s cock shoving at him. He’s not sure where he ends and where the both of you begin, if there’s even any separation between his skin and Eren’s and yours anymore.

“Feel so– full,” you hiccup, nails digging into Jean’s shoulders. Your watery voice makes Eren pause, rub a hand over your back.

“You doing okay, baby? How you feeling?”

“Feels….” you take in a deep, heaving breath, “good. Feels so good.”

Eren grins, something feral. “That’s our girl. So good for us, yeah?”

“You like being full, hm?” Jean can feel a smile mirroring Eren’s on his face.

He doesn’t miss Eren’s choice of words. Our girl. And you are their girl, you love being full of them. Of course you do. You’re their insatiable little plaything, so good at taking them in each of your holes. You love it, you love them.

“It’s– fuck, I’m in,” Eren’s staring at where you’re all connected. Jean wishes he could see, but the tightness of you around him is enough, the way he can feel Eren through your thin walls, pressing against his cock. Eren pumps his hips experimentally, and all three of you moan in sync.

“Pl-please move, Jean, fuck- no, Eren, just–” you’re babbling nonsensically, music to their ears.

“We’ve got you,” Jean hushes you, fucking his hips up into you and cutting you off, “just sit tight and be our good little girl, alright?”

“Oh g-god.” Your words wrench from you in a sob, jolting with the thrust of Jean’s hips up into yours. It takes some work, but soon enough, they’re pumping in and out of you at the perfect pace, synced up so you’re never empty, not for long. You’re wailing, voice scratchy from all the crying you’ve already done that night, clutching onto Jean like he’s your last lifeline.

“Feels so fucking good,” Eren grits out, digging his fingers into the flesh of your hips, “so good for us.”

“Not gonna last long, not like this,” Jean agrees, sitting you up so he can see you, see your wet cheeks and your open mouth, “so pretty like this, aren’t you? All stuffed full?”

“She loves it,” Eren growls over your pathetic, shaky moan of agreement, landing a smack on your ass, “fucking loves us, don’t you baby? Tell us, tell us how much you love it.”

“I-I love it,” you manage, voice wrecked, “love you— fuck- love you both so much.”

Jean’s eyes widen, roll back in his head a little. You’re so perfect, obedient and willing to take both of them, let them abuse your holes. The thought makes him bite down on the inside of his cheek, not willing to be the first to break and ruin this perfect moment.

“Jean, I– shit, I’m gonna cum soon,” Eren pants, pupils blown wide and mouth hanging open when he meets Jean’s eyes. “Make her cum.”

Jean nods determinedly, somehow finds the presence of mind to slide a hand in between your slick bodies, swiping at your clit insistently. Your body blooms for him, back arching as you throw your head back against Eren’s shoulder. He feels you clench violently around him, knows you’ve already been on the edge since they started with you, knows you won’t take much goading to break for them.

“That good?” Jean forced out through his clenched jaw, trying to keep pace with Eren amidst your vice-like grip on him.

“Yes, so fucking– oh my god, J-Jean, I’m– Eren,” you’re babbling, close to the point of hysteria, eyes blank and teary. Jean’s free hand wraps around your hip, grabbing hard at the flesh there. He’s so gone he barely catches it, just barely, but he notices Eren’s hand. Eren lays his palm over Jean’s, deliberate and steady, grabbing onto the other man’s hand and squeezing down. Jean meets Eren’s eyes, fucked out and hooded.

“Come on,” Jean rubs faster, harder, his eyes flitting back and forth between yours and Eren’s, “show us what a good fucking girl you are for us.”

Whatever was tethering you to your sanity falls away, and you cum harder than Jean’s ever seen, mouth hanging open in a silent scream as your muscles lock up, legs trembling on either side of Jean’s hips. He grips your hip harder, trying to maintain a pace so you can ride your orgasm out on top of them. Eren follows quickly behind you, biting into your shoulder with a loud, long groan. When Jean feels Eren’s cum leaking out of you, feels the mess they’ve made between your legs, he falls over the edge too, slamming your hips down into his and grinding up into you with a moan.

The three of you collapse into a heap of limbs and sweat and stickiness, chests heaving and muscles twitching. Jean can feel the burn of Eren’s skin and the slick, plush give of yours, enveloping him from every angle, and for the first time in months, he lets his eyes flutter shut, letting himself enjoy the simple pleasure of touch.

But nothing is forever, and after a few minutes, he feels you begin to stir between them, mumbling about needing to go to the bathroom. Eren reluctantly rolls off the bed to help you to the bathroom to clean up, leading you out on shaking legs. Alone again, Jean throws his hands over his face and sighs, deep and hefty.

He shouldn’t be here, he should have never let you both goad him into this.

It occurs to Jean that he needs some air; the apartment feels suffocatingly small knowing that both of you are only a few layers of plaster and a door away. He pushes through regret and self-doubt, pulling his sweatpants back on and scrounging around in his laundry basket of unfolded, clean clothes to find a shirt.

“What are you doing?” Eren’s suddenly in the doorway, scowling at him.

“Going out.”

“You worked this morning. What, do you have plans or something?” There’s a clear note of annoyance in Eren’s voice, but Jean’s too exhausted and shaky to look into it.

“Jean?” You, Eren’s shadow as always, peer around his shoulders, a cute little furrow of confusion between your brows. “Where are you going?”

Jean nearly growls in frustration, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Out. I’m going out.”

He hates the way you flinch, grab onto Eren’s hand for stability in the wake of his snapping at you. Eren speaks next, but Jean doesn’t recognize his tone; it’s firm, but somehow, it’s lacking Eren’s perpetually angry intonation.

“Sit.” Eren’s got one finger pointed to the bed, ordering him as if this isn’t Jean’s own room. He drags you over behind him, plopping on the bed as if you all do this every day. Jean glares at Eren, softens his eyes at the way you’re looking up at him invitingly.

“We just want to talk a little,” you pat the comforter, smiling softly. That breaks him, and against Jean’s better judgment, he’s sitting where you’ve indicated, t-shirt still fisted in his hands.

“About?”

“We don’t want you to think– well, this…” Eren gestures his hands between the three of you, frowning deeper, and eventually sighing, “I don’t know how to say it.”

You pick up for Eren, smiling at him. “We don’t want you to feel like you’re out of place here, that’s all.”

Jean cocks an eyebrow. “In my own bedroom?”

“No, asshole,” Eren rolls his eyes, “with…with us.”

“What does that mean?” Jean’s heart nearly stops. A small, soft hand over his makes his breath catch in his throat.

“We’re not, like, experienced with this, so maybe we’re doing this whole thing wrong,” you look to Eren anxiously, who nods at you reassuringly, “but…we have room for you. If you’re open.”

“Like…” Jean barely trusts his voice to carry above a breath, “in what sense?”

“It’s not just sex,” Eren mumbles, flushing pink, “to us, at least.”

“We like you,” you clarify, smiling again, “and however you want us, if you want us, at least, you can have us.”

Jean blinks stupidly, looks to Eren to see if his face betrays anything, anything that could explain the conversation taking place, if it’s a joke, if he’s unsure. To his surprise, Eren looks up at him, green eyes earnest and burning into his, and takes the t-shirt out of Jean’s hands, giving one of Jean’s hands to you and taking the other for himself.

“It works,” Eren says, finding some conviction, “whatever you want to call it, this works.”

“For both of you?” Jean can hardly believe his ears, can hardly fathom the feeling of your soft, delicate little fingers and Eren’s calloused palms wrapped around his hands.

“For both of us. But…does it? For you?” Your voice wavers, your nerves betraying you.

“I mean, I don’t know what it is. I don’t understand it,” Jean admits, positive that his eyes are comically wide in the face of this new information.

“Me neither,” Eren shrugs, “but we don’t have to be so serious about it–”

“Not for now at least,” you smile at Eren encouragingly, nodding and urging him to press on.

“Not for now,” Eren agrees, squeezing Jean’s fingers ever so slightly, the smallest, most tentative reassurance, “we can figure it out later.”

“If you want it,” you bite your lip, looking up at Jean through thick lashes, “want us. We won’t be upset if you say no. No pressure.”

Jean thinks for a moment, thinks about everything you’re offering him. You, who he’s pined after for months, so beautiful and sweet to him. He thinks about sharing coffee with you in the mornings, holding you tight to his body and drifting off to sleep, letting you play with his hair. He doesn’t know if he loves you, but whatever he feels is pretty damn close to it, close enough to drive him crazy and keep him up at night.

And Eren. He’s been friends with Eren for near a decade now, known him for as long as he can remember. What this agreement means in terms of his relationship with Eren, Jean hardly dares to press, knowing how Eren is: flighty, argumentative, brash. None of that is written into Eren’s features now, though; Eren’s watching him intently, earnestly, chest stilled as if he’s holding his breath, waiting for Jean’s answer.

Something old and something new mixed together into something entirely unfamiliar.

“We don’t have to put a label on it now, or even go through the semantics,” Eren’s voice is spent, nearly breathless.

“We’ll give you some space if you need–”

“No,” Jean cuts you off, looking between you both, “no, it’s– it’s just a surprise, that’s all.”

Eren snorts. “How many times do we need to fuck you before you get the hint?”

“Eren!” You slap his arm, looking between him and Jean meaningfully. “Not really the time for jokes, is it?”

“I mean, fucking in the bathroom of Scout’s isn’t exactly wining and dining me,” Jean rolls his eyes. Eren laughs at that, unintentionally tightening his grip around Jean’s fingers and making Jean’s heart thud a little in his chest.

“You two are beyond annoying,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. Eren and Jean exchange a wicked smirk.

“Regretting this already?” Eren teases you, digging his fingers into your side and making you giggle.

“Get over here,” Jean pulls you onto his lap, feeling emboldened to press a quick succession of kisses to your jawline, to your cheek. God, maybe he does love you, the weight of you in his arms feeling almost perfect. Eren leans over and tackles you both, tickling you wherever he can reach, Jean pinning you to his chest despite your protests and thrashing.

That’s what’s missing, Jean realizes. It’s not about you and Jean, or you and Eren, or he and Eren. He understands Eren’s bluntness earlier: the three of you just work, regardless of the weirdness of it all or the awkward conversations that lay ahead. It works, and for now, that’s enough.

Eren relents in his torture, scooting up the bed and dragging you with him, pulling Jean’s covers over you both like he’d done it a hundred times. Jean’s last little inkling of self-doubt perseveres, and he hesitates, until Eren tosses the covers on your other side back, patting the sheets meaningfully. Jean swallows his pride, swallows his insecurity, and pulls you into his side, very mindful of Eren’s arm tossed over both of your shoulders, of Eren’s fingers weaving absentmindedly through the hair at the nape of his neck.

And in the morning, when Eren mimics Jean’s loud snoring and you’re playfully throwing little crumbs of toast at them over the counter, the little voice in Jean’s head that had warned him to keep his distance will be completely silenced for the first time in months.

#eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger smut #jean kirschstein x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #jean #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein x you #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager smut #eren yeager x you #theragethatisdesire

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lee-laurent · 2 months

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June Bug - Trevor Zegras

Summary: June keeps a big secret. Trevor wonders why June Hughes stopped talking to him.

content: pregnancy, mentions of unsafe sex, angst, casual relationships, arguing, premature birth, fluff

wc: 3.5k

notes: cliche ahhhhh plot, but i've had this written for like a year. finally finished it and decided why not add it to the blog

"Are you doing okay, dear?" Ellen asked, watching as her daughter struggled to isit up on the lounge chair.

"Yes, Mama. Just trying to get comfortable," June sighed, setting her book down on her baby bump.

"Well, the boys should be home soon with your snacks. Just call me for dad if you need anything."

"Thanks, Mama," Jane gaver her mom a tight-lipped grin. She knew her parents were still a bit disappointed in her for falling pregnant at 22, but they were there for her nonetheless. She was hoping once the baby came, their relationship would start to go back to the way it was.

"JUNE BUG! We've got your pickles!" Luke shouted, sliding open the door to the patio. June groaned, pushing herself up on her elbows. She smiled up at her younger brother, tilting her head towards the table next to her. Luke laughed, placing the jar of pickles down for her.

"How's baby Hughes treating you?"

"He likes to kick me in the ribs and make me have to pee every fifteen minutes."

"Sounds like a blast. Just so ya know, Jack actually told me and Q that's proud of you."

"That's nice of him. But I'd appreciate it if he said it to my face. Oh, and didn't pretend that I'm not 7 months pregnant."

"You've still got me and Quinnifer. And Mom and Dad. Mom's been shopping for baby clothes. She's excited to have you at home again."

"She wouldn't have to live at home if she'd just tell the baby daddy," Quinn commented, joining his siblings in the backyard.

"Quinn-"

"It's fine, Lukey. He's just telling the truth. But I can't ruin his career like that. He's got a lot going for him right now. Plus, Mom siad I don't have to do anything that I don't want to."

"I know, Mom. But it's her fault that I can't even invite him here. He's gonna think we hate him or something," Jack loudly complained to his mom.

"Jack, just tell him that it's a family only vacation. It's going to be his way until June figures out what she wants. We shouldn't stress her out right now. It's not good for her or the baby."

"But Mom," Jack whined.

"Jack Rowden Hughes. That's enough. Go spend time with your siblings."

Jack shook his head, stomping up to his room. He slammed the door and called back his best friend.

"Mom says it's a family only vacation."

"Why? It's not like she's losing June this year. Isn't she moving back in with your parents?"

"Yeah, it's hard to explain. I'll see you when Cole and I come to visit."

"Okay, I'll talk to you later. Bye, man."

"Bye, Z."

"Please stop kicking Mama. She's trying to relax," June muttered to her stomach, rubbing a hand over where her baby decided to continuously kick her. The baby didn't listen, kicking even harder. "You're just like your dad, huh? You never listen."

June's pregnancy so far had gone fairly smoothly. But as soon as she hit the seven month mark, the baby decided that she needed to be sitting down or sleeping at all times. If she wasn't sitting, she was puking or feeling lightheaded. She had had to convince Ellen to let her come to the lake house. She wasn't allowed on the boat and spent most of her time lounging on the back patio with a book. She felt bad as Jim and Ellen had forbidden the boys from bringing any friends over this year, since June hadn't announched her pregnancy to anyone except her family and her best friend. She still hadn't told anyone the story of how she ended up pregnant, but her family was aware of who the father was. Her oldest and youngest brother were supportive, albeit a bit angry with the dad. Her twin, however, was pissed with her and not the dad.

"June, dear! Oh my goodness, are you okay?" Ellen exclaimed, listening as her daughter threw up for the tenth time that morning.

"Mama, I messed up."

"Junie, what's wrong? You know you can tell me anything."

"I-I'm pregnant."

Ellen was silent for a few seconds, before she noticed her daughter was sobbing. She quickly wrapped her into a tight hug, rocking her back and forth.

"Oh, June. It's going to be okay. Do you want to tell me what happened?"

June shook her head, burying her face in her mom's neck.

"Does the dad know?"

June shook her head again.

"Is it someone at your school? I'm sure if he's in California, we can still get ahold of him."

"It's Trevor, Mom."

"Trevor? As in Trevor Zegras?"

"Yes," June squeaked out before she started sobbings again.

"It's going to be okay, love. Everything will be fine."

June stood in front of her three brothers. Jim and Ellen had wrangled them into the living room, promising to be there for June in case anything went wrong.

"What's going on, June Bug?" Quinn asked, flashing her a small smile.

"June has some exciting news."

"You're moving to Jersey?!" Luke exclaimed.

"No, Luke. I- um, I'm pregnant."

"You're what?!"

"June!"

Jack remained silent.

"Who did this to you? Huh? I'll beat the shit out of him," Quinn threatened.

"You'll be doing no such thing. He- he doesn't know. And I'll be keeping it that way."

"Who? Who's the dad?" Jack finally spoke up.

"Um..." June turned to her parents for reassurance. Ellen gave her a nod. "It's Trevor."

"Zegras?! You slept with Zegras?!" Jack shouted. "There's no fucking way! I told you to stay away from my friends, June! But you didn't listen, did you? And now look where you've got yourself. God, you're such a dumb slut, June."

June placed a hand over her mouth, tears threatening to spill.

"Jack! Do not speak to your sister like that!" Jim's voice boomed, pulling the attention off June and onto their very angry father. "We are going to support June in her decisions. If June wants to keep this a secret, then we will all be keeping it a secret. Is that a understood?"

"Yes, Dad," Quinn and Luke mumbled. Jack, however, shook his head and disappeared to his room.

Jack's solution to this problem was just pretending that it never happened. He acted as if June wasn't pregnant, because to him that was the easiest thing to do. Although he wouldn't lie and say that he wasn't beyond pissed when he found that June was moving back in with their parents in Michigan instead of going back to California to even attempt to get support from Trevor. Keep the secret from his best friend was killing him, but he knew that his parents would actually kill him if he did let it slip. Because everything revolved around June now.

Trevor was blissfully unaware of everything happening in the Hughes' family world. Sure, he was confused as to why he couldn't come to the lake house. And he was confused why he hadn't heard from June in months, especially because he thought that maybe they liked each other. They spent almost every day together while she was at school in California, but one day she went home to see her parents and she didn't come back. He'd reached out a few times, but received radio silence and gave up. And when Jack told him she wouldn't be returning to school after the summer break, he was left alone with no idea what happened to the girl he liked.

"Can I buy him a Devils jersey?" Luke smiled, placing a hand on his sister's stomach.

"No, he'll be a Canucks supporter," Quinn retorted,

"He'll be staying far away from hockey, thank you very much," June sneered, moving her brother's hand to where her son continued to kick.

"Damn, Baby Hughes can kick!"

"Yeah? Imagine that while you're trying to sleep," June laughed.

"No wonder you're always so grouchy," Quinn joked.

"Now, if you two are done bothering me, Baby Hughes wants pickles."

"This is like your third jar of pickles since we got here."

"Shh. The baby gets what baby wants."

"That's actually so gross," Luke cringed as June ate half a pickle spear in one bite.

"Mmm. It's so good. You just don't get it, Lukey."

"Nasty," Luke walked back off into the house.

"Quinn! Come play pool!" Jack shouted from inside.

"Call me if you need anything, Junie. Hope your pickles are as good as you imagined."

"Thanks, Quinn. Love you," June smiled.

"Love you too, June Bug."

June lay in bed, scrolling through her social media. All her friends were on vacation, drinking cocktails, and taking hot bikini pics. She was in bed, drinking water, wearing her brothers' clothes because they were the only non-maternity clothes she had that still fit. She was just about to turn off her phone and attempt to sleep, when a notification popped up on her screen.

Hey, June. Jack said you're for sure staying in Michigan with your parents this year. I was wondering if you wanted to come visit when Jack came. You know, see you one last time.

Fuck. Trevor had stopped reaching out months ago. Why did he decide to text her now? She was considering blocking his number, but morally that felt wrong. She was already hiding his son from him, blocking him just felt even worse. Even just thinking about what she was keeping from him made her feel sick. Even if it was her body, it was his kid too. It takes two to tango. Suddenly she felt bile climb up her throat, juimping from the bed, running down the hall to the bathroom she shared with her brothers.

She held her hair back with one hand, her other clutching the toilet bowl. She couldn't tell if it was the baby not liking her dinner or her guilt of not telling Trevor, but everything felt wrong in that moment. She began to cry, not just from the vomiting but the stress that receiving that text had on her.

"Fuck. Are you okay, June?" Quinn asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. June didn't answer, just sobbing harder. "Junie. Shh. Is Baby Hughes doing alright?"

June nodded.

"Then what's going on, June? Was it dinner? I noticed dinners havent been sitting well with you."

"It- It's Trevor."

"What about Trevor? What did he do? I'll kick his ass."

"He didn't do anything, Quinn. It's me. Why didn't I tell him? What's he going to think when he sees me with a baby in a couple months? I have to tell him. Do you think he's still awake? I should call him."

"Woah, June. Calm down. You're not thinking rationally right now."

"No, Quinn. I need to tell him."

"June-"

"You're not listening!"

"Shh. You're gonna wake up Mom and Dad."

"I-"

"June, baby, what's wrong?" Ellen asked from the doorway.

"She wants to call Trevor and tell him," Quinn replied.

"Oh, Junie. If you're sure that's what you want, go give him a call. Should I tell Jack?"

June shook her head, "Only after I talk to Trevor."

June sat with her phone propped on her desk in front of her. She sat so that her bump was hidden from the camera.

One. Two... Three. She clicked the FaceTime button. It only rang three times before Trevor's face took up her screen.

"Holy shit. Hey, June. Long time no see," he smiled.

"We need to talk."

"Woah. Okay? What's going on, Bug?"

"I- um, you remember last time we hung out?"

"Yeah, of course I do. Jamie was out, we had the place to ourselves. I-"

"I'm pregnant."

"Wh-what? Is this a joke?"

"No. Look," she stood up, fitting her swollen stomach into frame.

"There's- I... How?"

"We didn't use protection? I don't know. That's usually how that happens."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was going to, I-"

"That was seven months ago! You're seven months pregnant? And you didn't think to tell me? Jack didn't think to tell me?!"

"Don't," June gulped, "Don't blame, Jack. I- I kept him from saying anything

"I'm getting the next flight out."

"What?! No! No! Don't do that! Trevor!"

"June, don't you dare tell me what to do! I... We need to talk in person. Figure this out."

"Trevor," she sobbed, shaking her head.

"Too late June. I'll see you in the morning."

"Trev-" he hung up. "FUCK!"

June sat the island in the kitchen, her leg bouncing violently. Trevor was supposed to arrive any minute and she just wanted the world to open up and swallow her whole.

"Stress isn't good for you or the baby," Ellen sighed, making her daughter a smoothie.

"Luke, can you get me more pickles?"

Luke grabbed the half empty jar from the fridge, sliding it across the counter to his sister. Without taking her eyes off the door, she bit into one. Praying that Trevor had changed his mind. Praying that he wasn't about to walk through that door. Praying that-

Knock. Knock! KNOCK!!

Jack opened the door and a very disheveled looking Trevor walked in immediately. His eyes met June's and she started to cry, dropping her pickle back into the jar. He wasn't even sure what to say. What do you say to the mother of your child when you didn't even know she was pregnant until a few hours before?

"Trev," her voice wavered, tears falling down her cheeks.

"It's okay, Junie. Shh, you're okay," Quinn whispered, rubbing her back.

Trevor just scoffed, dropping his duffle bag on the floor. He made his way into the kitchen, standing across from June. He had fury in his eyes and it made her shake even more.

"How could you keep this from me, June?!"

"I... I didn't want to ruin your career, Trevor. I didn't want us to be a burden. Something else for you to worry about," she sobbed.

"I deserved to know! It's my baby too! I-" he pulled at the roots of his hair, "I can't fucking believe you. You've done some stupid shit, June. But this... this takes the fucking cake. How... how far along are you?"

"30 weeks. I-"

"30 weeks. You've kept my child a secret from me for 30 weeks?"

"I- I didn't know until I was a month and a half. I was going to tell you and then..."

"Then what? You decided you wanted to be my saviour? I didn't fuck need that! I needed the girl that I fell in love with to-"

"You love me?"

"That's not the point, June! Oh my fucking God!"

"Let's all calm down, please," Quinn sighed.

"I-" June was cut off by a sharp inhale. She gripped her stomach and the room fell silent.

"What's wrong, Bug?" Luke asked worriedly.

"It hurts! Mama, it hurts so much," she wailed. Another sharp pain and she felt liquid trickle down her leg.

"Shit! Look what you fucking caused, Trevor!" Quinn snapped, helping his sister off the stool she was sat on.

"My hospital bag isn't here," she sobbed, "It's too early! He can't come yet!"

"We have time to get your bag, love. If your water just broke they'll just send you home. You won't be dilated enough for them to do anything," Ellen tried her best to mediate the situation.

"It's too early! He isn't supposed to come yet! He can't! I'm not ready!"

"June, you need to calm down. Let's get you on the couch," Jim offered.

Trevor was in shock. He had just found out he was going to be a father and now the baby was coming. He had caused so much stress that his son was being born a month and a half early. God, he wasn't ready to be a father. But June needed him right now, so he'd have to man up.

"I need new pants," June cried, allowing her brothers to move her to the sofa.

"Luke, go get your sister some sweatpants."

"On it."

"Trevor sit with June. And don't argue anymore, we don't need this baby coming out in the house."

"Okay."

Trevor cautiously sat on the cushion that June wasn't laying on. He placed her feet on his lap, rubbing gingerly at her shins. She narrowed her eyes at him, but stopped when the pain started again. His eyes widened and he gave her a hand to hold while her body tensed.

"Are you sure it's too early to go to the hospital, Ellen?" Trevor asked.

"They'll just send her home, Trevor. They aren't going to waste a bed on someone that'll be there for at least 24 hours."

"24 hours?!" June gasped, "I can't do this for 24 hours!"

"At least 24 hours," Jack pointed out, getting a stern look from his parents.

"Let's try walking around, Junie. That'll help speed up the process... according to Google," Trevor offered. Luke and Quinn had left to drive home and get the hospital bag. Jim and Ellen were trying to give the couple some space. And Jack, well... Jack was sitting on a chair facing the couch, judging every little move Trevor and his sister made.

"But it hurts."

"I know, June. But if we want our baby to come then we should try moving around."

"I heard sex helps," June offered.

"Hell no!" Jack spoke up, narrowing his eyes at Trevor.

"Let's just try walking," Trevor offered sheepishly.

"Fine."

"We're back!"

"Finally! Can we go now, Mom?"

Ellen nodded, "Why don't you and Trev go? We'll meet you there once you've got a room?"

"Mom..."

"June. You two need to learn to work as a team. Go."

"Fine."

Trevor threw the bag over his shoulder, helping Quinn get the carseat installed correctly. June sat in the passenger seat, texting her best friend updates. She couldn't believe her son was coming already.

"Ready, June?"

"I've been ready," she rolled her eyes, tapping away at her phone.

"Right... let's go then."

The car ride was awkwardly silent except for a few moments where June would gasp from the pain. Once they'd settled into a room, Trevor decided to talk.

"I, uh, I'm sorry for freaking out, June. I just... I'm scared."

"I was scared at first too. I guess I forgot that you were just learning. And going through the same thought process I did. I just... I shouldn't have kept this from you."

"You shouldn't have, but I can forgive you. Especially once I've met our little guy," he smiled.

"Not sure he'll be so little. Nurses said I look like I'm 9 months," she giggled.

"Do you think they'll take him to the special room for babies?"

"The NICU?"

"Yeah, that."

"Depends on how he's looking. But they said he's measuring above average. Maybe him coming early is a blessing to my body."

"Maybe," Trevor laughed.

A nurse knocked at the door, "You ready to push, Mama?"

June nodded, gripping Trevor's hand a little tighter.

"Is he okay?" June asked worriedly, watching as the nurses and doctor placed him down.

"He's fine," Trevor reassured her.

"You've got a 5 pound baby at 30 weeks, Miss Hughes. Quite impressive," the doctor smiled. "He's looking healthy, but we'll just take him to run a few tests. Just to make sure everything is developed alright seeing as he's premature."

"Can I hold him?"

"Of course you can," the nurse grinned, placing the baby on June's chest.

"Trevor, look at him."

"I see him, Junie. I see him," he wiped his eyes, not wanting to cry in front of June.

"He's perfect."

"He is. Just like his mom."

June blushed, handing the baby to Trevor before the nurses took him to run some tests.

"Can we come in?" Quinn asked, knocking on the doorframe.

"Come in," Trevor smiled. He was sitting shirtless in a chair, the baby on his chest. June was fast asleep, light snores leaving her mouth.

"How's Junie doing?" Jack asked, shocking everyone.

"Good. She's good. She, uh, she needed a nap. So Beau and I are chillin."

"Beau?"

"Yeah. Hughes family meet Beau Quintin Zegras."

"Quintin?" Quinn felt his eyes water.

"Yeah. June insisted on it," Trevor chuckled.

"Can I hold him?" Jack was quick to ask, looking Beau in awe.

"Sure. Just wash your hands."

"Okay. Okay."

"Hey, Junie. How're you feeling?" Ellen asked, stroking her daughter's hair.

"Tired. But isn't Beau just the cutest? He got Trevor's blue eyes and I don't think I could possibly love him any more than I do."

"He's adorable, love. The perfect mix of the two of you. How'd the doctors say he's doing?"

"They said he looks like a full term baby," she giggled, "He's big and strong. And figured out how to eat pretty quickly."

Ellen laughed, "Glad to hear it. We're gonna head back to the house soon. I thought maybe you and Trev would head back to the actual house. He don't have a place for Beau to sleep here."

June nodded, letting her mom press a kiss to her forehead, "We're all proud of you, June. So so proud of you."

"Thanks, Mama."

"You ready?" Trevor asked, reaching out to hold June's hand.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"Let's do this baby."

"Flight 335 to Anaheim is now boarding!"

#nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #trevor zegras #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras fic #trevor zegras x oc

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stitched-mouth-vs-the-world · 1 year

Text

Just For Research

Pairing: Professor! Rick Sanchez x College Student! GN! Reader.

Summary: When Rick discovers his top student is a virgin, he knows he must change that so she can write her paper on human pheromones.

Warnings: Smut, Intercourse (P in ?), Virginity Loss, Teacher x Student relationship, Age Gap, Virgin! Reader.

Writing Time: 30 minutes.

Word Count: 652.

Format: Kinktober Fic, Day 7.

A/N:

Woke up in the middle of the night and decided to just write this. Sorry for any mistakes, this is not proofread. I'm just really trying to make sure everything is written before October arrives so the quality is some fics might be lacking a little, this might be one of them. This is probably my shortest fic so far. Oh well.I also have completely forgotten what it was like in college. I did about 3 months of Combined Science in the UK before I dropped out for an apprenticeship instead and I don't remember anything about those 3 months. So this could be all completely wrong but tbh I really don't care.I tried really hard to keep it GN, which is getting harder and harder for me due to the lack of gender neutral terms in the English language but I'll keep managing.Hope you enjoy, I've been eager to write something for Rick for ages now.

Here is the masterlist for all my Kinktober works.

---///---

Thoughts were swarming your head, making it almost impossible to think about what was currently happening.

'How did this happen?' You thought, 'This couldn't of been an accident, but how then did it happen?'

You let out a torn scream, but Rick was fast to cover your mouth and silence it.

"Shut up little Whore, or the whole building will hear you." He huffed.

Just a second ago you and Rick was discussing your college assignment. Your assignment was to write an essay about the human and animal pheromones that tell them to breed and compare the two. Something fairly basic for a Combined Science class and as the class's top student, Rick expected this assignment to be a breeze for you.

But he had been wrong. For a top student with a bright future in Science, you had no idea about pheromones. Especially the sexual kind. It was the one thing you hadn't studied yourself in your own time nor had you experienced it.

You had come to Rick after class to hopefully explain the subject better for you or give you good resources to look up but once Rick found out you was a virgin, what you got instead was a private lessons on pheromones that included an experimental or practical that would give you the experience.

So now you were bent over his desk taking all of him like the good little one you was.

"Please..." You whimpered, tired and stretched out to the max. It had only been a few minutes but this was completely new to a virgin.

"Please what, Whore?" Rick glared down at you, still thrusting in and out of you at an ungodly pace.

Rick didn't think this was exactly the best way to show someone who had never experienced sexual feelings what they were like, but to be honest, he didn't care. He was just looking for a reason to fuck you. His prettiest most innocent and intelligent little Princess/Prince who always sat in the front row, listening to him with wide ears.

But this had been a good lesson for you. Your sexual desire and need for Professor Sanchez now more than alive, it was insatiable.

"Please more Sir!" You cried.

Rick was a little shocked, but more than happy to oblige. And quickly increased his speed, you looked down and moaned into the once clean desk.

"Yeah? You like this cock? You want more of it, my little cocksleeve?" Rick groaned into your ears.

"Yes!" You nodded eagerly.

Obviously, you came first. You did so with a scream and giant smile. Rick came not too long after you onto your back, with just a few loud grunt.

You was pretty confident now you was gonna Ace this assignment.

#stitched #stitched mouth #stitched talks #stitched’s kinktober #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #rick and morty #rick sanchez #rick sanchez x reader #rick sanchez smut #stitched writes

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eldritch-spouse · 7 months

Note

Someone who for whatever reason wants to get eaten by Vorticia and so goes to the gluttony ring hoping to find her. They by some miracle get to interact with her but when they beg her to eat them she’s like “lol no,” because it turns out they’re her match

[This is fucking hilarious. Fem reader.]

TW: Macro/micro themes; Vore.

Tightly tied to a chair, you can hear them talk behind the kitchen doors.

" You're telling me you just found this one trying to break into the premises?! " The short imp you've only caught glimpses of so far sounds exasperated.

" Yes... " The much taller demon with a dark mane replies. " She wasn't very successful, but I'm fairly certain her goal was to get caught. "

" And she said she wants to get eaten. " It's not even a question.

" By mother. Specifically her. "

There's a beat of silence.

" Vorago. You can't expect me to present a fetishist to your mother. That is ridicu- "

" Is it? I would much prefer if my meals walked directly into the plate. " The prince counters. " You're doing the poor thing a favor. I've advocated for this in the past as well, think about the time and resources we could spare during ceremonies if we take in people just like her. "

" My prince- "

" Do you like chasing after them, dad? Do you enjoy spending money on increasingly expensive hunting services? "

Dad?! That little imp? Imp-ressive.

" No, but we can't just- "

" Then give this a shot, perhaps it'll open your eyes to more sustainable alternatives. "

An unmistakable defeated sigh rings out. " ... Fine. "

You smile silently, happy that the tusked high-ranker who caught you managed to get your dream to come true. For such a scary-looking guy, he's actually not that bad.

When the doors part, your head snaps towards the curly-horned imp. They spare you a skeptical glance.

" It looks like you're getting what you want after all. "

" Yes! " The cheer is immediate and juvenile, met with a grimace.

" ... Right. " They're clearly uncomfortable. " Undress please. "

Words cannot describe how wildly your heart is beating within your ribcage.

You've been dreaming of this day ever since you discovered the nuances of your sexuality. Queen Vorticia is the most gorgeous, regal, seductive demoness to ever slither upon this galaxy and to feel the caress of her tongue would bring you to a level so beyond Nirvana that you have to contain a freakish noise of delight just thinking about it. Not that it would have escaped very fair, with the strange fruit crammed in your mouth- It's starting to hurt your jaw a little actually...

Yes, you're not the most normal of humans, but that hardly matters now.

The cart you're laid upon is wheeled towards what you assume must be the main dining hall of Gluttony's mansion. The pace is slow, the imps in charge of transporting you dare not displace a single element of your large plate's design. See, upon hearing about your situation through the curly-horned imp, the chefs present decided that it would only be fitting if you got properly and excellently decorated for the occasion.

A few of them sympathized with your situation. Few things are as romantic as loving someone so much that you would like to become a part of them, be consumed by them. One of the girls was a bit emotional hearing you talk so sweetly about the Queen. All in all, you feel lucky to have gotten this far so smoothly.

A noise from beyond crashes your train of thought.

A crash. Hissing.

The imps pushing your cart whimper and look at each other fearfully.

Ah, a tempestuous mood. You wonder what has the Queen like that.

Your chaperones slow down even more, and if you could, you'd stomp your foot on the cart to make them hurry up. You're not about to be left stranded in this hall because these cowards are doubting their life's decisions.

Finally, oh finally, you can see the tall, intricately carved doors to the dinning hall. The last room you'll ever be in, if all goes according to plan. The realization breeds a heavy feeling that causes shortness of breath in you, but for some odd reason, you have no second thoughts about any of this. More servants stand stationary, guarding the doors.

At the sight of your cart approaching, said guards hurriedly open the doors much taller than themselves, seeming frantic in the way they hurry everyone inside.

You have to strain your neck to get a good look at the scenery.

Tones of orange, red and gold shower the room, it's large enough to be mistaken for some kind of bombastic ball room- But you've done a bit of research, and you know the dinning areas are the real focus of the Gluttonous Household.

Little does it all matter. You can't bring yourself to focus on anything other than the absolutely gigantic scaled woman currently seated at a massive, tall table. Her sandy yellow scales glimmer under the jeweled chandelier's light, everything from the twin-tipped tail that lounges across the room to her drooping black robe and pupils nearly as sharp as her eyes make you want to swoon, toes curling in delight.

Queen Vorticia reaches down below, you get to watch the demoness grab a flailing, kicking man by the ankles. He's muffled just as you are, but a lot more bruised and roughed up, trying his damndest to scream past an unforgiving muffler. He knows what will happen to him the moment he's raised in the air, as do you. And there's nothing he can do but close his eyes and accept his fate when the bottomless pit that is the Queen's maw stares back.

One second of mind-numbing anticipation is all it takes, then he's gone. Dropped. Her jaw clamping the second the man was submerged. Hardly a lump forms in the column of her long throat before it's over. With neither a scream nor a whimper, his doom arrives. The Queen however, looks unsatisfied. It's almost as if she didn't even eat anything to begin with, frowning at the wall pensively.

Until the platter that man was in goes flying across the room and nearly rips a chunk out of the wall. It was so fast you barely saw the flash of gold before your human eyes.

Two of the imps escorting you scurry beneath the cart for safety.

" I trussst you've brought me ssomething worthh my time? " Her voice finally rings through.

" Y- Yes, your Majesty! " One of them is brave enough to squeak, rattling the cart and everything on it as he pulls it forward, the others sticking to the back.

You can kind of understand them. Vorticia could easily swipe a hand down and capture two or three of these imps as an appetizer.

" Then hurry! Do you wisshh me to starve here?! "

A slam of a powerful fist causes the ground to quake.

" Never, my Queen! "

In a blink, your platter not only lifted off the cart but rushed onto the table, quickly turned and pushed to be in front of the demonlord herself. You almost get dizzy from all the jostling, and as your vision settles, you see the Queen wordlessly wave before scrambling steps follow. The servants nearly trample each other to leave the room alive.

You don't even look their way.

You can only bore holes into the gorgeous woman before you.

Vorticia raises a brow ridge, humming.

When a single claw descends, you imagine she'll slice your skin, peel you like an apple or go for your innards first. Instead, she stabs a tomato next to your waist and brings it to her lips, tongue roping it inside in a blink.

You're sure she can hear your poor heart thunder in its fickle confines.

" You mussst be the human they mentioned earlier. "

You blink.

" Pretty thhhing, wantss to be my dinner... " She nearly purrs, making something stir low in your belly.

At the way you attempt to frantically nod, she actually cracks a smile, incredulous. Although the hunger you've always yearned for resides in her thin eyes, there's also a hint of genuine curiosity you wouldn't typically see in the gaze of such a predator.

" Hmph. Well I hardly buy it. "

" MmMMF! " Even if you had something eloquent to counter with, muffled grunts are all you manage.

" Don't mumble, it'sss rude. "

She begins flirting with the decorations on your platter again. Every single time, you study the movements of her calloused, scaled hands as they move, waiting for the cut that never comes, the grip that never follows, she simply steals bits and pieces of vegetables and frivolous dressing. You're almost offended for a second. But... The anticipation is actually causing some curious effects in you.

In a way, every single time her claws scheme the platter, brushing over the bare skin of your legs and tickling your sides briefly before retreating with a slice of fruit or veggie, she's playing with you. Having her fun, as both an apex predator and a teasing mistress. Fear mingles with sparks of arousal you've poorly contained thus far, creating a fire that has you sweating under her serpentine gaze.

" You're almossst too cute to eat. " She chuckles eventually. Something wooshes nearby, it takes you a moment to notice it's her large tail.

You notice, rather belatedly, that there's no one else in the room but you and Vorticia, and a suspenseful quiet has fallen between you. You could not have asked for a better environment. It feels as if you're both sharing a very intimate, sacred moment.

The next time her hand dips, instead of skirting around the main course, she tip taps her way up your trembling figure and circles a long claw under the swell of your breast, watching you shiver attentively before edging the decorative leaf covering it. A more than pert nipple catches on her sharp extremity, and she uses a thumb to flick it idly, casually, head tilting at the way you squirm and exhale through your nostrils.

Your other breast is easily uncovered as well. The Queen betrays nothing in her expression when she grabs a piece of bread and soaks it in the condiment that coats your skin, dragging it upwards, swirling it around one of your tits before eagerly devouring it.

This is repeated enough times to drive you a little stupid with want, groaning miserably when she merely teases your tits and continues to torture you with featherlite caresses.

The sweet torture continues when she takes care of the rolls covering your spread legs, watching the shameful state you're in become more and more noticeable. Your cunt flutters beneath her mere stare.

" Ssstrange, I've yet to cut you, and you're already dripping. "

You'd shake your head in denial if you weren't able to feel your own soaked folds right now.

She has the mind-numbingly erotic audacity to grab another useless vegetable decoration and generously coat it in your wetness. The rounded tip of whatever she's pressing against your womanhood bumps your clit. She swirls it intentionally, tapping it down and circling the nub with enough pressure that you strain against your binds and whine behind the gag, wanting to beg her for more yet only drooling pointlessly.

She makes a noise like an amused snort, and when you toss your head back, you can hear her practically slurp the thing for all the flavor it has, her thumb replacing the vegetable and leisurely keeping you stimulated.

When you're able to look back, her pupils have blown wide, the black nearly drowning her acidic sclera.

" To thhhink that, ssomehow, suchh a preciouss gift would fall upon my table... Withhout notice... "

Even if you're loving the attention, heating up like a small fire -Probably enough to cook the ingredients around you- You could never have guessed the Queen would take such an intense liking to you. It feels like a dream.

" Do you wisssh to be eaten, my sssweet morssel? " She curves, shadowing you, strings of drool falling onto your neck and chest.

Her hues acquire a nearly hypnotizing quality, prohibiting you from glancing away while she toys with you. All you can respond with is frantic, vapid nodding while you grind yourself down on her finger like a mutt.

" Truly? "

" MMMhmnn!! "

Not even the gag could have curbed that whorish bleating.

" Then I will. " Vorticia grins wide enough to crinkle the edges of her eyes. " Tonight. In my chambersss. Your wissh comess true, in a way. "

You're not given enough time to rationalize anything before her touch vanishes, leaving you cold and miserable. The snaps of the Queen's fingers attract the same imp you met when this all began.

They look at you with a mixture of confusion and mild caution. " You called, Highness? "

" Yess. Run a bathh for me and my Queen to be. "

He coughs and chokes.

When your head snaps to Queen Vorticia, you find no hint of mockery on her face.

You're fairly certain one of the sauces you were doused in must be causing you to hallucinate...

#Vorticia oc #monster girlfriend #minors dni #terato tag #monsterfucker #not sfw

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mostlyihyperfixate · 2 months

Text

WrightWorth Fic Recs

Okay, so @moongasux told me to give some fic recommendations on last night's post, and I thought it would be easier for me to put together a list in a separate post. And then I can update as I go along.

Please note that these aren't all the fics I've read or even the only good ones, just my favorites so far--the ones I've gone back and reread multiple times since discovering them. I've got several explicit ones to recommed but I literally just started reading smut so I can't actually comment on how good the sex scenes are.

A Long Way to Fall by prospectkiss

Rating: Explicit; Content Warning for stalking and torture; set pre-AA4; finished

Words cannot express how much I love this fic. It was the second one I ever read, and it's still my all-time favorite. It sounds really dark, but the subject matter is treated with the reality and seriousness it deserves. The author also simultaneously knows where and when to stop with the angst so it never gets overbearing. I especially love that both Miles and Phoenix seem like 100% equal partners and adults. The character voices are *chef's kiss*. This is, hands down, the best Franziska I have come across. Be warned that there are explicit sex scenes!

A Night You'll Never Regret by MaudMoon

Rating: Explicit; Content Warning for drinking in excess; set post-AA6; finished

This is another excellent fic, a sort of pure-fluff alternative to A Long Way to Fall. It's just good times from start to finish. The character work here is also very good. The author deals with a pretty large cast masterfully. Larry is amazing in this. This is the story that introduced me to my NOTP, but I'm coming to realize that it's a fairly common ship in this fandom, and who am I to rain on a collective parade? This story is too good to ignore just because of that. Again, there are explicit sex scenes.

Turnabout: Bloodline by LeFlayART

Rating: Explicit; Canon Divergence post-AA6; Spirit Medium!Miles AU; finished (the first two of the three stories, anyway)

You have got to read this. I started reading the first story in this series yesterday, and I've hardly been able to put it down. I am crushed to see that the final story never got finished--but a look at the number of comments on the second part shows that the number of comments this received at the time was a travesty. This is a masterpiece. They say the mark of a good story is that you keep saying to yourself, "Just one more chapter. Just one more chapter," and I have been saying that since, like, 9:00 in the morning yesterday. There is explicit sex. There is a lot of explicit sex. Please go shower this fic with the praise it deserves.

pressed beneath the burden of proof by harmony

Rating: Mature; Content Warning for amnesia fic; one shot

I effing love an amnesia fic, okay? I know it's not for everyone, but it's one of my favorite fic tropes. (Seriously, if you know of any other Wrightworth or Klapollo amnesia fics please send them my way). This is a nice lengthy one that doesn't overstay its welcome by making you wonder where the heck the plot got to. There's no big, overarching legal mystery to solve, but watching Miles put things together is plot enough. The interactions between Miles and Phoenix are wonderful.

res ipsa loquitur (the thing itself speaks) by griffonage

Rating: Teen and Up; finished

This is a fun miscommunication fic that isn't going to leave you wanting to rage at the couple for not just communicating. It's fun miscommunication. Another great "It's about the pining" fic, but without all the angst that usually comes with all that pining--and it's only five chapters, so you can read it in a snap! The author wrote another similar story from Phoenix's point of view later, but of the two, this is my preferred one.

Guilty as Charged by JustNerdyThings

Rating: General Audiences; finished

Do you like seeing Apollo tortured in the fun sense? Then this is the fic for you! It's got some additional Klapollo which finally made me go, "Oh, yeah, this ship is cute," and while shipping (and fumbled matchmaking) is the plot of the story, the place it really shines is just watching Apollo deal with the rest of the cast as the only sane man. It's all cute enough to give you cavities.

Epoch by citsiurtlanu

Rating: Teen and Up; Content Warning for Soulmate AU; set through the series; in the process of being posted

I feel like an elephant is sitting on my chest when I open this up and read it--every single damn time. It hurts. I mean that in a good way. I don't typically read soulmate AUs because I always have more questions than what is addressed, but this one's sort of (at least thus far) a deconstruction of the concept. I am genuinely upset that I have to wait for weekly updates on this when I just want to unhinge my jaw and swallow it whole. Every week's update leaves me wanting more. Also, the author is terribly nice.

#ace attorney #wrightworth #narumitus #fic recs #fic recommendation #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth

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inviisiiblelee · 6 months

Note

Alastor & Rosie in a tea party setting, gossiping about anything really up to you, please!

REQUESTS OPEN

———

Rosie was always an incredibly gracious hostess, as far as Alastor was concerned. Before his disappearance, they'd often meet up just like this, Rosie having put together a little table by a window for people watching, tea glasses and pot ready and happy to share. It had been so long, and after the events of recent times, he really wanted to feel a sense of normality again. He arrived right on time, as always, and Rosie welcomed him with a big smile and open arms. They shared a brief hug, before the both of them settled themselves.

“Alastor, it feels like it's been ages!”

“Believe me, Rosie, I feel exactly the same. It's good to have real company for once.”

“Oh, you. Please, help yourself before we really dig in!” And he was happy to, finger foods galore and with the most pleasant of crunches. Nothing quite like a little bone marrow for lunch, indeed. She poured him a nice cup of tea, and he added a dash of cream to it before leaning back.

“So, tell me, honey, how are things?”

“Insufferable, as usual,” came Alastor’s response, with a widening smile.

“Oh, do tell, darling!”

“Things at the Hotel are just as miserable as you'd imagine! Charlie is just as fervent as ever, trying to get new patrons, and now that Lucifer is there—”

“So that really was him?”

“Yes, yes, he's chosen to stay there for the time being while he helps. Not that he's doing that much, anyway.”

“He does seem a little empty-headed, doesn't he?” Her comment earned a laugh from Alastor, and some of the tenseness in his shoulders slipped away.

“I am so glad you agree, Rosie. I've been doing my best to curb them all, and they're all terribly intrusive. Even Husker has been acting quite clingy."

“Really? He's always been a little protective, but clingy?”

“Exactly! After the end of the battle, he insisted on following after me and staying far too close. Even striking out didn't really deter him.”

“You poor thing, you deserved plenty of space and rest on your own time!”

“Precisely my thoughts. I am fine, but he even sent Charlie checking up on me. It's been such a nuisance! So it's much nicer to be able to come out here.”

“Well, I am always happy to have you, you know that, Alastor! We all love you around here.”

“Oh, I know. If I could spend more time here, I would. But, please, enough of my silly tirade, how are things in your realm?” Alastor took a long drink of his tea, a delightful chamomile. Rosie grinned back at him, taking a drink herself.

“Things are lively as ever, of course. Susan has been less of a pain, all things considered, you might even be so lucky as to avoid her on your way out. The folks here are fairly happy, although there has been some talk of visiting the hotel from some, they've taken nicely to Charlie, as expected.”

“Naturally. I'm sure she'll be happy to have them in any case.”

“There have been a few sightings, though, of Vox and Lucifer both around these parts.” Alastor raised his brows. “They're both taking to spending an odd amount of time with Susan, I think she's developed some attachments. Whether she likes either of them, I have no real idea, I avoid them all.”

“That's probably for the best. Lucifer is infuriating to share breathing space with, and Vox has become quite the nuisance.”

Rosie peered at him for a long moment, but she brushed on to a new topic. “People have been saying something interesting, though, about someone unsavory coming in!”

“Oh? That sounds interesting, who?”

“Well, you didn't hear it from me … but they're saying it's you!”

The two laughed together happily, and Rosie shared more mundane little stories for his entertainment. She had many from the last several years that he hadn't heard, and he found himself happier than he'd been in some time.

#my writing #radiorose #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel rosie #hazbin rosie #rosie #platonic radiorose #implied radioapple #implied radiostatic #susan hazbin hotel #susan (derogatory)#writing requests #i actually dont write much rosie so i wanted to be gentle about it #i feel like theyre menaces ill have to write more sometime #hazbin hotel fanfiction

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im-ovulating · 10 months

Note

Hello!! I'm fairly new to the twilight fandom and your blog is one of the bests i've ever seen so far! So, if you're comfortable/not buzy, could you please do the volturi kings (separated or poly, both are fine!!) reacting to the reader being a goth, i imagined since they're ancient beings, the goths that invaded the Roman Empire would be the first thing coming to mind lol

Once again, your blog is definitely a favorite now, so i might just give myself a name for future requests, i think 🦇 would be fine if no one's using it :)

Have a good morning, afternoon or/and evening!

-🦇

(A/n: Stawppppp you're makin me blushhh🙈 I definitely recommend @kiiwiigii (her kinktober is 🥵 and her fluff fics will literally rot your teeth) and (she doesn't write often, but she has an AMAZING NSFW mini series called Uses of a Secretarial Desk👀:) @alecvolturi)

(A/n: I went with headcanons. I hope that's okay with you!)

(A/n: Also- It's a bit difficult for me to write the kings since I personally don't vibe w/ em, so I hope you like it😭😅)

Word Count: -

Summary: Request above

Warnings: None

Age Rating: None

Volturi Kings x Gothic! GN! Reader

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

General:

Firstly, the Volturi are known art lovers so while the Visigoth sacking Rome might be what the word is acquitted to off the top of their heads, they would probably attune it moreso to the gothic art style of the mid 12th - 16th centuries

This being said, gothic makeup is VASTLY different from the painted arches and quatrelobes of the art period

You'll definitely have some explaining to do

You'll have to excuse them. They're not invested in human fads and expressionistic styles

Now on to the individual reactions/thoughts:

Aro:

He definitely finds your style interesting

Not in a judgmental aunt "interesting...😒" but an intrigued interest

He likes to watch you do your makeup, letting out the occasional amused "hm" when you do something unconventional with your look (grey contour, painting your neck black, extreme eyeliner, thin angled brows, etc.)

As for the music?

Doesn't really get it but at the same time does? Idk how to explain my thought process

He basically vibes with the lyrics and meaning but sometimes the instrumentals are hit or miss

He really enjoys the instrumentals that are more spooky/calm to the ones that go harder

Overall, if you're happy, who's he to say anything?

Caius:

Do you want fanon or accurate?😅

Fanon:

He might give you a strange look or cock an eyebrow when you go all out with your look but he silently appreciates how much effort it takes to perfect it

If he doesn't like the song playing, he'll either grab your phone and skip it or just leave the room

Canon:

This man is throwing shade left, right, and center lol

It /is/ all in good fun though

He's a bitch, you knew that from your first meeting

"Are you sure that's how you want to go out today?"

"Interesting attire, dear... *side eye*"

He doesnt hate it, don't get him wrong

He just finds it... odd

Out of all the kings, he's probably the most art geek of them all and is stuck on the name of your style

"Goth? That is not gothic, pet... *cue middle ages art speech*"

Openly criticizes the music

Either bans it from being played around him or loudly complains about it

Marcus:

Is the most vocal about your appearance

Constantly praising how you look that day

He got a second chance at his life partner. He's gonna be damned if he doesn't appreciate everything about you even down to the barely-different-who-is-he-kidding-they're-the-same-as-the-ones-you-already-own shoes that you just bought and are excited about

It's not even him lying either

He GENUINELY loves your look, simoyl for the fact that 1) he has seen you get ready... that takes skill and 2) you clearly enjoy the style and seeing you confident and secure in yourself is enough for him

He can take or leave the music, but he will keep that to himself until he dies (get it? Bc he's immortal?)

#volturi kings #aro volturi x reader #caius volturi x reader #marcus volturi x reader #aro volturi #caius volturi #marcus volturi

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la-petite-lapin · 5 months

Text

Double the Love | Part Eight

Double the Love masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x female civilian!OC Word Count: 2.1k Series warnings (may change between chapters): 18+ Minors DNI, angst, mentions of death, mentions of violence, excessive swearing, mentions of sexually explicit content, self doubt, OC has anxiety, poor communication, polyamory, M/M/F, FMC is (once again) bad at feelings

The morning after

The next morning, John calls.

Simon and Johnny have left to get some food shopping in, allowing me some much needed time to decompress. I woke up this morning feeling... I don't know. Conflicted. Confused. Like the consequences of getting myself into this - whatever this is - are finally starting to land.

"Hey, Tali," John says softly, and I can hear voices talking in the background. A woman, not Marcella, and a man who sounds fairly pissed off. It takes me a minute to recognise that it belongs to Gaz. "How are things on your end?"

I blow out a long breath. "Everything's okay."

There's a pause. A long pause. An I-know-that's-bullshit kind of one. "Talia, come on. It's me you're talking to." When I don't immediately spill my guts, he adds, "If you won't tell me what's playing on your mind, at least talk to Winslow. Marcella, even. Or, if it's something that the boys have done, try and talk to them about it. They're far more understanding than they look."

My heart stutters in my chest. That's part of the problem. And, to add to that, I don't even know what's wrong.

In the past few days, I've gone from not wanting any sort of relationship at all, to wanting nothing more than to have both of them tell me that they want me. Not even that they love me - God knows that it's far too soon for anything that serious - but something. Any sign that last night was more meaningful to them than a couple hours of mindless fun with a brand-new toy.

But I don't know how to ask. And I don't kind I'm strong enough to handle the inevitable rejection. Not when I've grown to consider them as friends.

"I would... if there was something wrong," I grumble back. My eyes flicker around the empty apartment/ Maybe having some more company around would be a good distraction. "Can you and Kyle come over again, please?"

I can hear the smile in John's voice as he replies. "We're a little busy at the moment, but I'm sure we can sort something out for the weekend. We could watch some more of those God-awful military movies Gaz likes to rip apart."

I snort out a laugh. "Perfect."

We say our goodbyes and John hangs up, muttering something about an 'incident' that he needs to deal with. But, before I can put my phone down, I catch a glimpse of a missed call and a text message from Winslow, all while I was on the call with John.

WINSLOW SLOANE: Call me xx

I'm calling her number before I can even think about it, a sense of panic gripping my chest as I raise the phone to my ear. What if she'd been in an accident? What if she was hurt? Stuck somewhere in a foreign country with no way of me getting to her...?

"Hey, honey," Winnie says immediately, answering on the third ring. Her voice soothes my frayed nerves, so much so that I almost let out a sigh of relief. Just hearing her makes me feel lighter than I have all day.

"I'm so happy to hear your voice." It's only been a matter of days since we last spoke on the phone, but it feels like it was a lifetime ago somehow. Thank God she only has two weeks of her France trip left before she's back home again. "How's Paris?"

Winnie lets out a breathy laugh. "It's been... interesting to say the least. But it's part of the reason why I called." The cold feeling of realisation slides in as she elaborates, "It looks like I might have to stay a little while longer. Just while I help them sort some stuff out and tidy up some loose ends."

My heart seizes at the vagueness of 'a little while longer'. "Okay. How long is that looking?"

"Um... maybe an extra week."

"Oh." It's the only word I can think of.

"I know, I know. I'm really sorry, Tali," Winnie says, and I can hear the genuine sadness in her voice. "I'll be back in time for Alex's birthday though, I promise."

My gaze trails across to the calendar hanging up beside the kitchen. Just under a month. In four weeks, he would have turned thirty.

We would have thrown a big party; which would have pissed Alex off to no end. He would've grumbled about it for months, complaining that he's a private person, which is just a code word for boring, but secretly loving that I'd gone to the effort. Just like his twenty-first.

My heart aching in my chest, I say, "It's okay, Win. You've got to do what you've got to do, and I have the guys here to keep me company." There's a beat of silence, so I follow it up with, "And I'm going back to work, which I've strangely missed."

We both laugh at that.

"Anyway, how've you been?" I can hear Winnie settling in on the other end of the line. I find it more amusing than I care to admit that she's still so invested in what's going on back here while she's living it up overseas. Despite it being a work trip, I've seen her Instagram posts. She's thriving over there.

"I've been good. But there is something you might be interested to know."

Winnie giggles. "Oh? Please enlighten me."

A mischievous grin forms on my lips. "I slept with them. Both of them."

There's a long stretch of silence. It's a pause so long that, for a minute, I think the call might have dropped.

"Winnie? You still there?"

She coughs, spluttering for a second. "Still here. Just stunned into silence because... wow! You really did it? With both of them? How did that even work? What was it like? I have so many questions, Tali! You can't just drop a bomb like that than and not expect me to have questions!"

A laugh slips past my lips, dissolving into a burst of laughter. "It was something new. But it was fun. They didn't take everything all serious and alpha like some guys probably would. They made it fun, we laughed about stuff, and the aftercare was perfect."

"10 out of 10 would recommend then?"

"I would," I reply, letting myself smile. Despite all of the conflicted feelings I have about what happens now, it doesn't in any way diminish how unwaveringly happy I feel thinking about last night.

We talk a bit more - mostly about all of the interesting people Winnie has met in Paris, the new places she's seen, and all the restaurants she's tried - before she has to go. We say our goodbyes and I promise to call her in the morning on my way into the office. Not long after, I hear the sound of the spare key turning in the lock, and I look up to see Johnny nudging the front door open.

He's beaming, a broad smile on his face and two overflowing shopping bags in his hands. Simon follows him into the kitchen, carrying the other three. He nods to me on his way past, a black surgical mask covering the lower half of his face.

"Want to help us with the meal plan, princess?" Si calls out from the kitchen.

Huh?

I follow them through into the kitchen to find Johnny leaning over the counter with a piece of paper and a pen, as Simon dutifully unpacks the bags. Johnny takes one glance at the questioning look on my face before offering me one of his most charming smiles. "Me and Si were talking. Did'nae think it's fair for ye to be doing all the cooking, not when ye're going back to work now. And we eat most of it."

A frown forms on my lips. "I didn't complain about it."

Si turns around now. "We know, but we don't think it's right. You do a lot for us already, darlin'. Just let us do something for you."

I try not to blush as I fold my arms across my chest. "Fine. Okay."

Johnny grins. "So, what do ye want on Monday?"

After dinner, we settle in to watch TV in the living room. I fold myself into my armchair, letting Johnny and Simon cuddle up together on the sofa.

It's hard not to keep glancing over at them; even harder to hold back the un-earned feeling of jealousy that keeps nipping at my heart. They're a couple. They're allowed to act lovey-dovey in the privacy of their own home.

Home. Thinking about that makes it even worse. At some point - when all of their army drama blows over - they're going to leave.

Logically, I know that. I know that me, them, and Winnie can't all live in this two-bedroom apartment together, but it still stings. It's irrational, and I know it.

I watch as Simon runs his fingers through Johnny's hair - the Scotsman all but asleep with his head in his partner's lap - as I swallow down the growing resentment. Bitterness coats my tongue, and I swallow thickly.

Simon looks over, because of course he does, with a questioning look of concern. Mask-free, it's all too easy to see his expression now. It almost hurts to look at his face; to know just how beautiful he was.

I shake my head and close my eyes, kicking myself for being so stupid about this.

We're all grown-ups. We agreed to have sex. It was one night.

But then why does my chest burn when I think about them, like someone's trying to squeeze the life out of me?

"You alright, love?"

I nod, my eyes still firmly shut. Why did I do this to myself? Let myself have a taste of the one thing I can't have from them?

"Hey, love," Simon calls again, voice laced with something I can't place. "Open your eyes for me, yeah?"

So, I do. I open my eyes and level him with the blankest expression I can muster. "I don't feel well. I'm going to go for a walk," I say, thankfully giving no hint of my emotions. "I'll be back before midnight."

His hazel eyes harden. "Not on your own you're fucking not."

I wince, but something in my resolve strengthens. "You can't tell me what I can and can't do."

"I'm not telling you what to do," he growls. "I'm saying it's dark out, it's cold as fuck, and I'm not having you out there alone surrounded by a bunch of creeps while I sit in here like a lemon."

We stare at each other for a long, long time.

Uncharacteristically, he breaks the silence first. "Just let me put Johnny in our room and I'll come with you." He nods to the dead-weight of a completely knocked-out Johnny's cheek resting on his muscular thighs.

My temper flares. "I didn't invite you."

I can feel Simon battling his anger from here. I also get the distinct impression that if I was anybody else - other than Johnny - I'd have already received the bollocking of my lifetime for being so damned difficult right now.

"The only way you're leaving this flat tonight, princess, is if I'm with you," he grumbles, hazel eyes dark and unwavering as he pins me with a glare. A glare that tells me Ghost is back. "I'll lock you in your room to keep you safe if I fucking have to."

I match him with a fierce glare of my own. "Why do you fucking care?"

That seems to take him aback. His eyes soften, the harsh line of his mouth pulling down at the corners, making the scars around it all the more apparent. "Of course I care."

"But why?" A hollow laugh slips past my kips and I spring up from my armchair, starting to pace in front of the TV. I'm completely aware that I must look borderline hysterical as I look at him with wild eyes. "I'm just one of the many, many women you two have fucked. Why do you care if I want to go walking at night? If I cook dinner?"

Simon's frown deepens. "That's not what this is. You know that."

"Really?" I gesture wildly to Johnny, who's still blissfully unaware of what's happening. "All night you've been cuddled up, while I've just sat here and... and watched you. Do you know how much that hurts? After last night when you made me feel so fucking included? And now you're back to making me feel like an outsider." The words spill out of their own accord, frantic and rushed as I feel the tears start to roll down my cheeks. A broken-sounding laugh bubbles up from my throat. "I've spent all day telling myself I wouldn't do this because it's so fucking embarrassing. It was one night, and now you're both going to think I'm crazy."

Si stares back at me and the expression on his face is so heartbroken that it hurts. "I... we didn't know you'd see it like that."

My heart cracks in two inside my chest. The tears pour even faster as I glare down at my slipper-covered feet.

How could I be so reckless? I've just ruined everything.

"Tali, can you come here please?"

My eyes trail back to Simon. To his hand patting the tiny space on the sofa beside him - the side not occupied by Johnny, soft snores pouring out of his mouth like cats' purrs. My feet carry me across the room. I slot myself into the gap beside Simon, trying not to let any part of my body touch his. Preparing myself for whatever it's not you, it's us speech that is inevitably coming.

a/n: hey guys! hope you've enjoyed part 8 :) sorry that it ends on a bit of a cliffhanger, but it was getting quite long and I try to stick around 2.5k words to make it flow better i'm aiming to have part 9 out by the end of next week, but I won't make any promises just yet <3 - much love, lapetitelapin

#cod #cod fanfic #fanfic #ghoap x reader #simon “ghost” riley x reader #soap x reader #callofduty #cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x reader x soap #female reader #female oc #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny x reader x simon #simon riley x reader #double the love #romance #angst

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silverv-week · 9 months

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silverv weekend coming soon!

hello everyone! i'm fairly new to the fandom on tumblr and saw that there wasn't a lot of week or weekend events that i've seen from other fandoms!

so, here I am! i started my own! i already have some prompts picked out for a weekend i wanna do for silverv where we'll celebrate all things creative such as fanfic, fanart, or virtual photography!

hoping this'll be a fun way to foster community between all the silverv fans and create some more content in general!!

please like/reply if you'd be interested in something like this and reblog to get some more eyes on this! also would love to hear how far away i should hold this event, as of now, i'm thinking of holding it sometime in feburary and post the prompts before the end of the month

#silverv #cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand #v #cp2077 #johnny silverhand x v #cbp2077 #silvervweek

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tenthousandyearsx · 1 year

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Thanks so much for tagging me @wolfpants, I loved reading yours! I've pretty much only published lots of PWPs so far, and while I loved writing every single fic I've posted, self-recs always feel a bit weird. x_x Anyway, I'll give it a go!

Rules: Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💙

‎ㅤ

Passably Wrecked (Drarry, E, 4.6k)

“Potter,” Malfoy says, sitting down next to him at breakfast. “I think we should have sex.”

Starting with this one because it's fairly recent and I don't think I've shared it here! Malfoy expresses scepticism about Harry's sexual prowess. Harry is having none of it.

‎‎ㅤ

Keep your hands on me (Drarry, E, 21k)

Malfoy binds himself with a sex curse. Harry cannot get enough (but would much prefer to keep Malfoy for himself).

Still the filthiest thing I've written imo – it's 21k of smut and I didn't self-censor at all, but I ~think~ I consider it porn with character development rather than pwp. I wrote the whole thing in a daze, which is my favourite way to write when the muses allow – and to my absolute astonishment (I was sure it was going to get hate), it tends to get my favourite comments too. ‎‎ㅤ

Just a trial run (Drarry, E, 9k)

Potter in his living room was a novelty and Draco could not take his eyes off him. He fixed both of them a drink, handed Potter his Firewhisky, then sat on the sofa. “From Saviour to Auror to whore,” he said. Potter choked on his drink. “Tell me, Potter, how does that happen?” In which Harry wants to get into sex work and Draco would prefer to keep him for himself.

I'm very fond of this fic and this Draco. I wrote it while I was working on KYHOM because I wanted to try a somewhat similar premise with the opposite dynamic, with top Draco and a more submissive Harry. It has both a paid sex kink and alcohol kink, which I have no idea where they came from, and while I've been postponing doing some proper edits on the second chapter, I absolutely loved writing it. ‎‎ㅤ

Trouble with your tie, Potter? (Drarry, E, 6.7k)

The last thing Harry expects when Slughorn partners him up with Zabini is Malfoy shooting them furious looks throughout the whole class and then unceremoniously snogging Harry in the corridor.

My Erised fic from last year! I was actually working on something else entirely, a much longer fic that fizzled and died on me halfway through. I have a self-imposed rule that the energy of a story has to be right and has to be such that the story drives itself – and, specifically for fic, that if I don't enjoy writing it, there's no point in doing it. So when writing a fic becomes a slog, I just go back and delete mercilessly. It still didn't help in this case though x_x, so I started writing "Trouble with your tie" instead, which was an absolute joy to work on and I'm so happy I did. There are some parts I still think I'll probably rewrite at some point, but I really loved writing H and D's dynamic here. Even though I don't agonise over my prose when I write fic, I am super careful about the energy I'm putting out and especially the feeling I'm leaving the reader with at the end, so I'm really happy they hit the mark in this case. ‎‎ㅤ

Not very gallant (initial Dronarry but endgame Dron, E, 3.3k)

“He likes it when I hurt him,” Harry tells Ron with a smirk. “And then you come in and soothe him.”

I wanted to include a non-drarry fic so here's a very recent one! I think I probably could have done more with it, but I loved writing Ron in this. Please mind the tags!!! Everything is super undernegotiated!!! It's endgame Dron, but Harry is perfectly fine with it. I should also probably mention that Harry is a bit of an asshole in this fic compared to the way I usually write him, but because I usually write Drarry and wanted this to be endgame Dron, I had to find a way for the dynamic to be in character, hot, and sexually charged, but not in a way that made me ship drarry too much. I'm also usually not good with threesomes or poly relationships because I always feel like someone is left out x_x, so I tried to put my own spin on it. This is what worked for me and I loved writing it! Do not expect considerate behaviour for like... most of it though.

Tagging @crazybutgood , @magpiefngrl , @orange-peony , @lumosatnight and anyone who'd like to join!

#tag game #mind the tags in each fic!!!#drarry #drarry fic #drarry fanfic #dmhp #hpdm #harry x draco #draco x harry #drarry smut #my fics #dron #dronarry

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timothee-chalamets-girlfriend · 6 months

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Paul Atreides X Reader (Dune)

Part 1: Caladan

Paul Atreides' feet dangle from his bed as he rests in slumber. The blanket was on his body's top half, but he had kicked it off his bottom half. He was a restless sleeper. This was because of strange dreams he would have. They were always changing, but most made him uncomfortable. This has been going on since he was a child, yet some of his dreams still shock him.

Outside of House Atreides, the sun was beginning to rise. It had been a cool night, causing drops of dew to form on the soft grass. The ocean water can be heard roaring against the rocks at the bottom of the cliff, a high tide was coming in. Luckily the cliff House Atreides sat on was the highest on Caladan. Not only was it protected from water, it's protected from any kind of threat that may arise. Paul's father, Leto Atreides, had done all he could to keep his royal family safe. However, part of him knew nothing could be protected forever. Still, it was his duty to keep his family safe. And he would.

"Paul," a small voice whispered. "Paul." He feels a warm touch on his shoulder and his eyes shoot open. Looking up, he immediately relaxes when he sees it was just his mother. Paul readjusts himself from his crooked position and sits up. "Hm?" He makes a small, sleepy sound. "You slept in again. Your father and I have been waiting at the breakfast table for you." His mother tells him, running her hand through his curls. "Oh, sorry. I was-" Paul starts but his mother interrupts. "You were up late studying Arrakis and their people again, weren't you?" She asks with a sigh. Paul simply nods, looking away. "Come now, your food is getting cold." His mother says and leads him to the dining room.

Father, mother, and son sat side by side at the table and enjoyed their breakfast. Paul's father and mother finished theirs fairly quickly, while he took a bit longer than usual. "Not hungry?" Leto asked. Paul shrugs. His father and mother exchange a glance before Leto turns his attention back to his son. "Look, Paul, I know you want to come to Arrakis with me, but it's just too dangerous. You've never experienced desert conditions. I'm not going to risk it, you are far too important." He talks firmly. Paul, being a teenager, rolls his eyes at his father.

He pushes his plate away, which had a little over half of the food left. "You just don't trust me." He says, shaking his head. "It's not that, Paul, and you know that. We simply love you too much and are trying to protect you." His mother enters the conversation. "But you get to go." Paul defies. "You know why I have to go, Paul. Don't pull that." The mom replies. Paul grunts, "mother, father. Please. You both know how much I've been studying and preparing for this. I am ready. Please believe me." Paul says, practically begging his parents. The room goes silent for a few seconds as Leto looks at his son and ponders possibilities. "There is one thing we could try in order for him to prove himself ready." He finally lets out his thought. Paul's mother was quick to share her thought. "Are you insane!? That could get him killed!" She yells. "Calm down, Jessica. I believe in him. I believe he deserves a chance." Leto replies calmly and seriously.

Paul's lips swiftly form a smile, and he jumps up from his chair in a sudden burst of excitement. He had no idea what this thing he would have to do was, but he was happy to get to try nonetheless. Jessica sighs, standing as well and readjusting the long fabric of her dress. She didn't want to disappoint her son, but she couldn't help but worry about the possibility of him failing the test. "Very well, then. I'll take Paul to her." She tells Leto, and both mother and son walk the halls of the great House Atreides. While they walk a sinking feeling forms in the pit of Jessica's stomach. She hated this idea. At the same time she knew it needed to be done. "I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear.." she says to herself in her mind as they approach the door.

Lady Jessica takes a final step forward, knocking on the large metal door. "Reverend Mother?" She calls out, and the door quickly flies open. As Paul enters the room, which was mysteriously dark and empty, a shiver runs down his spine. He was starting to feel not too sure about this. "Reverend Mother, my son, Paul, is ready to be tested." His mother tells the cloaked woman with a shaky voice. "How wonderful!" The lady croaks, "you may leave, lady Jessica. Guard the door for me." Jessica nods and leaves at once, the door closing behind her with a forceful slam.

"Come closer, boy. Don't be afraid." The lady shows off some of her crooked teeth. Paul cautiously proceeds forward, but stops just a few feet from where he should be. "CLOSER!" She yells, her voice suddenly becoming deeper than even his. He feels as if someone was behind him, as he is abruptly pushed forward. "KNEEL!" She yells in the deep voice again; Paul's legs seem to give way as he falls to his knees in front of her. The Reverend Mother takes a few moments to study Paul. She reaches out a shaky hand and places it on his cheek, her hand traveling around his facial features.

Paul, thinking that this was all the test was, goes to stand. He is quickly stopped when he feels an odd sensation against his neck. The Reverend Mother smirks as she points the gom jabbar directly at the boy's neck. "By your neck I hold a poison needle, in which will cause instant death at injection. The test is simple. Put your right hand in the box and keep it in there no matter what you feel. The second you remove your hand from the box, is the second you die." She tells him, still smirking. "What's in the box?" Paul asks, lifting up his right hand and beginning to slowly direct it towards the box. "You'll find out soon enough, my boy. Go on now." The lady grows impatient and pushes the needle a few inches closer to Paul's neck, making Paul waste no more time putting his hand in the box.

At first, there was just tingling. Almost as if electricity was running through Paul's hand. But it didn't hurt, it was just an unusual sensation. Paul looks the Reverend Mother in the eyes with confidence of passing the test, but it doesn't take him long to regret that. There was no light, no heat, yet.. it felt as if his hand was immersed in flames. Paul takes a quick breath to try and keep himself from reacting to the burning sensation on his skin. Soon, he feels as if his skin was being ripped off and the flames were entering his open wounds, making it feel like he had stuck his hand in a river of lava. Paul bites his lip, shaking his head and groaning through his throat. He wanted to remove his hand from the box. But he couldn't.

Now, the sensation he had in his right hand was that of an axe chopping off each of his fingers one by one before completely severing his hand. All of this while still burning, as well. Paul couldn't hold back anymore. He lets out a pained yell, which echoes throughout the room. "Quiet." The lady says, still holding the needle just centimeters from his neck. Paul breathes rapidly and scrunches his face in agony. He felt like crying, screaming, and mostly he felt like removing his hand from the box. However, he knew that any of those were not an option. The pain seems to reach its maximum level, and as it does Paul closes his eyes and holds back another scream, instead letting out another groan from his throat. Everything seems to go blank. All he can feel is pain, all he sees is darkness, and all he hears is the sound of his panting. He decides to focus on his breathing and nothing else. A few failed attempts pass, but he finally manages to get his breathing under control. Paul slowly opens his eyes and locks them with the lady's once more. His face was as still as stone. There were no emotions in his expression. He looked as if he could be dead.

"Enough!" The Reverend Mother yells after exhausting herself enough. The boy had passed. Paul swipes his hand out from the box and examines it; it was perfectly fine. He sighs in relief as the pain melts away and he realizes he's still alive, meaning he had passed the test. Lady Jessica runs in and immediately checks on her son, feeling just as relived to see him alive. "You pushed it too far." She tells the Reverend Mother sternly. The lady clicks her tongue, shaking her head. "Now, now. You and I both see the potential power in this young man. He needed to be tested to the limits." The Reverend Mother speaks. "What of him now?" Paul's mother asks. "He will go with you to Arrakis. You'll leave early tomorrow morning. I feel as if he will be needed there. No matter his fate, I feel he can make a difference to that rouge planet." The older lady responds before ushering her guests out from the eerie room.

#dune #dune 2 #dune 2024 #dune movie #paul atreides #paul atreides x reader #timothee #timothee chalamet #dune part two #dune part 2

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avastrasposts · 1 year

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The Pilot and his Girl - ch. 35**

I wrote this while on holiday so any mistakes I blame on sun stroke and cocktails! This is the second to last chapter! I'm not ready! Chapter 36 will be the last chapter and then I've got an epilogue planned. How will I say good bye to these two!? Please enjoy what's left 😭

Series Master List

Chapter 36- Warnings have their own post - Word count: 10.4k

The night passes quietly, and you watch the sunrise over the eastern horizon across the river while Frankie sleeps in the tent with baby Jack. As the sun starts to warm up the cool prairie air, you make some breakfast, dreaming of the days you could have coffee, and hear Frankie stir as Jack begins to cry. You listen to your husband soothe him, and with a pang of longing you wonder if Frankie makes the same soft cooing sounds for Jack as he did for Lucía. Frankie had told you years ago that he’d been petrified when Lucia was born, he’d been in such a bad state and not able to enjoy having a baby girl. But he’d grown into such an incredible dad by the time you met him, it was hard to imagine him being anything but a proud doting father.

The zipper of the tent slides open and Frankie crawls out, Jack held tight to his chest with one hand. The boy is staring up at Frankie’s beard and as you watch, Frankie carefully gets to his feet and smiles at Jack, dipping his chin low enough so that one chubby little hand can come up and grab at the scruffy hair.

“Ouch, you little scoundrel,” Frankie chuckles, “you’ve got some grip in those tiny hands.”

You smile and hand Frankie a bowl of ravioli as he gently sinks down next to you, “Careful, he’ll give you another bald patch,” you tease and Frankie rolls his eyes at Jack.

“Listen to her, going after my poor beard now, as if she doesn’t love my bald patches.”

“True, I do love them,” you lean forward and press your lips to the one on his right jaw, “pull harder, Jack.”

The baby gurgles happily in Frankie's lap, reaching up for the beard again.

“I’ve prepared some food for him too, I cut up the ravioli,” you pick up the bowl, “do you want me to feed him while you eat?”

“No, I’ll do it, if you wanna pack up the tent?”

“Sure, I’ll pack up,” you give the bowl to Frankie and you can’t help but smile as he takes it, barely looking at you as Jack grabs his finger and blows a spit bubble. In all your years with Frankie, in an increasingly hard environment, you’d never have guessed that a little foundling baby would be the thing that made your husband melt into a puddle.

As you take down the tent and roll up the sleeping bags you listen to Frankie talk to Jack, an endless stream of baby nonsense. When the baby swallows the last bite of food, Frankie praises him, gently wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. As you put Frankie’s pack next to him, he wraps Jack into the makeshift kangaroo pouch and ties it around his chest.

“I’ll take him, since you carried him all day yesterday, rest your shoulders today, cariño,” he says, adjusting Jack’s legs.

“Are you sure? You’ve got a pretty heavy pack,” you say, slipping one of Frankie’s socks onto Jack’s head to protect him from the sun.

“Yeah, if you take the rifle today it’ll be fine.”

…

The three of you keep walking west, the endless prairie slowly giving way to more hills and trees. Far off in the distance you can see the high peaks of the Rocky Mountains, impossibly high in the clear air. At the end of another long day of walking you’ve climbed up, away from the prairie and into low hills that slowly stretch up towards the high mountain range to the west. While you rested at midday you’d actually managed to run down some sort of chicken, it looked fairly domesticated and Frankie guessed that chickens must’ve escaped from farms after the outbreak and multiplied. Whatever it was, you managed to wring its neck without getting too squeamish and hang it from your backpack.

You feel like you’ve crossed all of Wyoming on foot when the sun finally starts dropping and nothing worth noting has crossed your path since you left the pick up, no infected, no people, only animals in the distance. The farms and houses you’ve passed have been empty and mostly looted, people have passed through here before you but it’s impossible to know when. You realize finding Jack’s uncle will be like finding a needle in a haystack, if the group he was with even got as far as Wyoming, it seems unlikely you’ll meet anyone out here and maybe that’s for the best..

At sundown you make camp a mile from the road you’ve been following. It’s far enough away from anything that Frankie risks a campfire and grills the bird you’d caught whole. Even Jack can eat the tender meat when you cut it up and he even seems to enjoy it.

“I’ve been looking at the map,” Frankie says, bringing it over to the campfire so that you can see, “and I’ve got a couple of options, tell me what you think.”

You lean into him as he spreads the map out onto the ground in front of you. “There's a place up here, about five miles from the road.” He points to a spot on the map, “It’s got a small river running next to it, the mountain on one side and this open valley on the other side. It’s marked as a private ranch on the map key. It could be what we need. But there’s another place,” he moves his finger and points to a place much further north, “it’s another twenty miles into the mountains, up this valley that we’re in.”

“I’m guessing there’s a good reason why you want to walk another twenty miles?” you say, looking at the long stretch of land that lies between you and the spot Frankie’s fingers is resting on.

“Yeah, this place is a small hydroelectric dam. If we get there I could probably get it up and running and we’d have actual electricity, heating, hot water.” He looks up at you with an excited smile, “I was thinking about it today, even if it doesn’t work now, I could fix it somehow and the place is so remote, it’s bound to have all the equipment needed on site. I know it’s a long shot, but it’s only another half days' walk, with a potentially huge reward.”

You look at the dam location, tucked away at the river mouth, a few miles from the main road. Plenty of fish in the lake probably, and open land full of game, provided you’d be able to craft something to hunt with.

“It looks like a better location than the ranch, but probably a bigger risk of infected, if the people who worked there didn’t get away.”

“Yeah, that’s the main drawback,” Frankie says, “we’d have to be very careful clearing it out.” He’s tapping the map thoughtfully before he looks up at you. “It’s up to you completely, if you don’t want to risk it, we go with the ranch, live settler style. Maybe that is the better option, safer for now at least.”

“The dam could attract other people too, if they have the same idea as you,” you say and Frankie nods.

“Yeah, there’s always the risk of other people too, although, so far Wyoming seems pretty empty to be honest.” He folds up the map, “We’ll sleep on it, see how we feel tomorrow, we could just go check out the ranch first, it’s almost on the way.”

Behind you Jack shifts and begins to cry and you pick him up, tucking him into your arms.

“I’ll set up the tent and take the first watch, cariño, see if you can get him to go back to sleep.”

“He’s usually asleep by now, maybe he got a tummy ache from the food,” you stand up and start rocking him the way you used to rock your nieces when they were babies. The thought makes you wince, over the years you’ve come to terms with all the people you lost when the outbreak happened, your parents, siblings, friends. But sometimes, when you do something that reminds you of them, it’s like touching a piece of glass inside your chest and the cut is fresh. Gently bouncing on your feet you try to remember how old they’d be by now but you get stuck, in your mind they’re forever little girls, just slightly older than Lucía.

Jack just won’t settle, his cries cut through the still night, no matter how much you and Frankie try to soothe him. Even Frankie’s beard goes untouched, the tiny fists clenched hard as Jack wails in Frankie’s arms. It feels like he cries for hours, sleeping is out of the question, you can’t shut your ears to Jack’s crying and you’re starting to worry that anyone or anything in the vicinity will hear and come to investigate.

“Give him to me,” Frankie suddenly says, handing you the rifle, “I had an idea, my abuela once told me I had tummy aches as a baby every time I’d eaten and she’d hang me over her shoulder.” He gently takes Jack from you and hangs him, belly down, over his shoulder. His large hand holds Jack steady as he gently begins to rock on his feet and you walk around his back so that you can see Jack’s face. He’s still crying but as Frankie moves back and forth he seems to calm down a little.

“Keep going, I think it’s working,” you say and Frankie starts walking circles around the fireplace while you keep watch around the campsite. There’s a new moon in the clear sky and you look up at the thin sliver and all the bright stars. You’ll never get over how bright they really are once you’re out in the countryside. When the world came crashing down it took a long time before you had the peace of mind to sit in the dark and look at the sky. It wasn’t really until you were out on the boat, sailing from New York, that you’d noticed them again. Now you search out familiar constellations and find the North Star. Behind you Jack is finally quiet, you can hear Frankie gently humming a lullaby you don’t recognize.

“Arroz con leche me quiero casar, con una señorita de Portugal….” and he hums a few notes, the words forgotten, before you hear him sing again, “Con esta sí, con esta no, con esta señorita me caso yo.”

You turn and smile at him and you hear a branch snap behind you, fear shooting through your veins like ice. Your heart drops into your stomach as you swing round, raising your rifle towards the sound, you suddenly see several shadows moving in the corner of your eyes. You hear Frankie rush up behind you, his back against yours as he turns and scans the dark forest.

“Lower your guns, there’s more of us than you,” comes a man’s voice from in front of you as several people step into the light of the campfire, guns raised. You can see at least five of them, and from the footsteps behind you, at least another five you can’t see.

“Lower your gun, cariño,” Frankie says, his voice low, “and take Jack.”

You give Frankie a scared look as you lay your rifle on the ground and take the baby from him, tucking him into your arms, one hand protectively cradled over his head. Frankie raises one hand and slowly pulls his gun from the back of his pants with the other, laying it down on the ground.

“Step away from her, five steps back,” the man barks, jerking his head at Frankie.

“We don’t want any trouble,” Frankie says, “We’re just passing through, the baby was ill.”

“Step back,” the man snaps, taking a step forward and raising his gun, aiming at Frankie. You look over your shoulder at Frankie, he gives you a small nod.

“It’ll be fine,” he says, slowly backing away from you.

“Have you been around any infected?” the man asks and behind him you see a woman stepping forward, a German Shepard on a leash.

“We haven’t seen anyone since we left Nebraska,” Frankie says, “no people or infected.”

“If you’re lying the dog will sniff it out and rip you to shreds,” the man keeps his rifle on Frankie and nods to the woman to unclip the dog. It growls and runs over first to you and sniffs around your legs before padding over to Frankie and doing the same. Satisfied that neither of you are infected, the woman whistles the dog back..

“We’re looking for a man named Jack,” you say, before the man with the rifle has a chance to decide what to do next, “We found his sister in Nebraska, she’d escaped from slavers with her baby boy,” you nod down at baby Jack in your arms. “She was dying and asked us to find her brother and bring her son to him.”

You see how the woman with the dog and the man exchange a look, a blink of recognition, before the woman speaks up.

“The woman, her name was Julia?” she asks and both you and Frankie nod.

“Yes!” you exclaim, “Do you know her?”

The man with the rifle holds up his hand but the woman answers anyway, “Did she say what Jacks’ last name was?”

“No...” you hesitate, “she only said the boy’s name is Jack Connolly and that he was named after her brother. He was heading to Wyoming with a group of people.”

“We were heading for White River,” the woman replies, “Jack, his last name was Connolly too, was with us until two months ago. I’m sorry, but he died.”

“We didn’t know him,” Frankie says, “and we didn’t know Julia either, but I’m sorry to hear he died. It would’ve been nice to bring baby Jack to his family.”

“Juan,” the man with the rifle says, looking at a man somewhere in the tree line, “don’t let them move, I need to talk to Maria.” He motions to the woman with the dog to follow him back into the trees, out of earshot. You glance over at Frankie who’s still standing five steps away from you and he gives you a small smile, but you can see the concern in his eyes.

You look back down at baby Jack, sleeping in your arms now. You had been thinking about the possibility of not finding his uncle, and then you and Frankie would have to take care of him, but it had been a vague ‘what if?’. Having a child of your own with Frankie had never been an option ever since the outbreak, not even in the relative safety of Arlington or Boston. But taking care of an orphan child who really has no one else, that seemed like a very easy decision to make when you were faced with it. But Jack was never yours, you were only taking care of him until you found his family. But now? If his uncle was gone, you felt responsible for him, for the promise you’d made to his mother. Looking down at him, you couldn’t help reflecting over how strange it felt to suddenly be an adoptive parent of this little boy.

The man and the woman called Maria come back through the trees and wave Frankie and you over.

“Alright, I’m Patrick, this is Maria. Sorry about the curt welcome committee, we can’t be too careful about people out here.”

“Yeah, we get that,” Frankie says, taking Patrick’s outstretched hand. “I’m Frankie and this is my wife.”

You shake Patrick’s hand and then Maria’s, giving them your name.

“You seem like decent people, and you have Jack’s nephew to care for, so we’d like to give you two options,” Maria says, looking between the two of you, “We have a settlement not too far from here, you’re welcome to come with us and seek shelter. We’ll have to confiscate your guns until we know we can trust you and we’ll expect you to help out with whatever you can. If you don’t like it, you’ll be free to leave whenever you want.” She looks at you and then down at Jack sleeping in your arms, “But I think that once you see how the community works, that you’ll be able to keep baby Jack safe, you’ll want to stay,” she smiles at the little boy, as he stirs in his sleep, his little hand waving free from the blanket. “He actually looks like his uncle, does he have blue eyes too?”

“Yeah, he does, big blue eyes,” you smile, looking at Jack and tucking in his arm again.

“So what do you think?” Patrick asks and you glance over at Frankie, it sounds almost too good to be true, but if this is the group Jack’s mother wanted you to seek out with her son then maybe it’s worth a shot.

“What’s the second option?” Frankie asks.

“We leave you to fend for yourself out here, no hard feelings. But we would prefer it if you came with us. Every person we leave out here is a potential infected down the line.”

“But we’d really like you to come to Jackson with us, especially seeing as you have the baby. Jack was a good man and we’d like to make sure his nephew is safe,” Patrick says and from the corner of your eye you see several of the other people nod.

“Can I talk to my wife in private for a minute?” Frankie says and Maria nods and steps back a little with Patrick. Frankie takes your hand and you walk to the other side of the fire.

“What do you think, cariño?” he asks in a low voice, his fingers threading between yours.

“I think it might be worth the risk to trust them,” you say, “They seem genuine.”

Frankie nods, “I think it might be our best chance at getting to a safe place, even if our plan was to get somewhere safe just you and me.”

“But with baby Jack, we could really need a community, it’s not just you and me,” you say, stroking your hand over the baby’s head. It’s only been a few days but you’re already feeling very protective of him.

“Yeah, and about him, with his uncle dead, I guess it’s on you and me to take care of him? Are we gonna be his parents?” Frankie looks down at Jack, you can see his eyes soften as gently caresses the rosy cheek with his finger.

“It’s not how I imagined this ending but I don’t think I could give him up now, could you? I feel responsible for him after what we promised his mother.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking the same,” Frankie says, looking back up at you, “So I guess we’re parents now and we go with Maria and Patrick? At least to check it out? Hopefully they meant what they said about us leaving if we don’t want to stay, but I think we can risk it?”

You nod and together you walk back to others.

“Alright,” Frankie says, “We’ll hand over our guns and come with you. We feel responsible for baby Jack and it seems you might be the option to keep him safe.”

Maria nods, “I’m happy you think that, I hope you’ll wanna stay with us once you see what we’re building.” She turns and waves forward a younger man, “Ned, get Winston please, if you can ride with Nellie on the way back these two can ride him with the baby. She turns back to you, “Winston is a very steady and gentle horse, he’ll keep you safe on the ride back.”

The horses had been left out of earshot of the camp and you’re delighted to see a small herd of them once you’ve packed up. Winston turns out to be a large bay horse who lets you reach up and stroke his soft nose while he nickers gently. Frankie swings himself into the saddle with ease and a happy look, giving the horse a pat on the neck. You hand Jack to him and Maria helps you hang your packs on the side of the saddle before you get on behind Frankie.

“All these years, Frankie,” you smile as the group sets out, “and I never knew you were such a cowboy.” You’ve got your arms around his waist, Jack is safely tucked into the makeshift pouch on his chest.

“My uncle had horses,” he says, “and he taught me how to ride, just haven’t done it in years, but it’s like riding a bike.” He clicks his tongue and Winston sets off, following Maria and Patrick’s horses. “How about you, are you ok back there?” he gives your hand a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah, I’m ok,” you bury your nose in his soft shirt, holding on to him, “I was never a great rider but I know how to stay on at least.”

“Just hang on to me, cariño, Winston and me won’t let you fall.”

The ride back to the group's camp only takes a couple of hours, Maria and Patrick leading the way cross country rather than following the road. The sky lightens and Maria rides up next to you and points down a hill towards a large lake.

“That’s Jackson,” she says, “and that’s the dam we’re trying to get fixed. If we manage we’ll have electricity.”

“That’s the dam we saw on the map, cariño,” Frankie says, “We were thinking about coming here and seeing if it was fixable.”

“Do you know anything about how hydroelectric dams work?” Maria asks, raising her eyebrows at Frankie and he shakes his head.

“No, not really, not more than the theory of it. But I’m used to fixing a lot of different things, I used to be a pilot before the outbreak.”

“I don’t want to get into it now, but we will have a conversation with the two of you later about what skills you have that can be useful for the community,” Maria says as the group rides up a large gate set in the wall surrounding the town. “But for now, let's get you settled, it’s been a long night for us all.” She waves to the men guarding the gate and someone on the inside pulls it open.

“We’ll put you up in one of the empty houses for now, we’ve cleaned them all out and there’s sheets and pillows in most of them.”

You look around you as the horses pass through the gate. The sky is light, the sun almost up, and it casts a golden glow over the western themed houses. Maria points down the street and you see a wood barricade at the end of it.

“Down there is the rest of the town, we’ve only walled off this smaller area so far, it was already a gated community so we built on the existing walls.”

“Is the rest of the town cleared of infected?” Frankie asks and Maria nods.

“Yeah, we had to do it bit by bit, but we cleared the last house a month ago. But it’s outside the wall so it’s not completely safe, we still get infected wandering in sometimes.That’s why we have guards and patrols to handle them and any potential raiders.”

She leads you to the stables and you dismount, Ned comes over and takes Winston’s reins.

“I’ll get him dried off, just go with Maria and get settled,” he says with a smile and Frankie slides off, one hand on Jack and then gives you a hand down. You yawn wide as you get down, the sleepless night is catching up with you as you feel safer.

Maria leads you to a small house near the outskirts of the gated community and opens the door.

“This will be your place for now, or at least if you decide to stay with us,” she says, motioning you inside. “There’s no food here, come to the mess hall for that. But try to get some rest first, there’s a crib for Jack in one of the upstairs bedrooms.”

“Thanks Maria, we’re very grateful for your help,” you say and she gives you a quick nod.

“I’m sure you’re hoping you didn’t make a mistake in trusting us, and I’m hoping we didn’t make a mistake in trusting you,” she says, “We’re a small community and we need decent people to keep this place safe and thriving, I hope my gut feeling about you two is correct.”

“It is, we’re just looking for somewhere good and safe to settle down, even before we found baby Jack,” Frankie says, “If you are who you say you are, we’ll be happy to help build the community.”

“Good, that’s great to hear,” she says, moving towards the door, “I’ll see you both later today, there’s firewood outback if you want to heat up water and clean up.”

With that she leaves, closing the door behind her, and you find yourself alone with Frankie in a house, a safe house, for the first time in years.

“Hermosa,” Frankie slides his arm around your waist, “you look dead on your feet, c’mon, let’s sleep before we do anything else.”

You nod, yawning big again and letting Frankie guide you up the stairs to the second floor where you found what looks like a master bedroom. The house looks well preserved despite all the years it’s been abandoned and there’s pillows and sheets with thick blankets on the bed. It looks very inviting and you groan at the sight of it. Sliding off your backpack you sit down on the bed while Frankie smiles at you, bouncing Jack on his arms. He’d woken up during the ride but now he’s yawning again.

“I’ll find the crib for Jack,,” Frankie says, “Just go to bed, cariño, I’ll be right there.”

You give him a grateful nod and start unlacing your boots and peeling off your clothes. Everything you own is grimy and unwashed but you find your least dirty t-shirt and change into it. As you pull back the sheets Frankie comes yawning through the door.

“The crib is in the room across the hall,” he says, “Jack fell asleep instantly but I left the door open so we’ll hear him if he wakes up.”

“Hopefully he’s as tired as us and we can get a few hour’s sleep,” you yawn, sliding into the bed as Frankie starts pulling off his clothes. It doesn’t take him long to climb in next to you. You yawn again and Frankie pulls you into his arms, tucking your head in under his chin.

“Sleep, hermosa, I think we’re safe here for now,” he whispers, running his fingers through your hair and you feel yourself slip into sleep without even trying. The last thing you register is Frankie’s lips against your cheek.

When you wake up a few hours later you think for a minute that you’re in a dream. You’re warm under the covers, Frankie’s arm is wrapped around your waist and you can feel his shallow breaths against your neck. The bed under you is soft and a shaft of sunlight is filtering in through the closed curtains, hitting a painting of a mountain landscape. You let your eyes drift around the room and take it in as you slowly remember where you are; Jackson, a safe place at last.

Frankie stirs behind you, tightening his grip around your waist, “Morning, cariño,” he mumbles and pushes his nose into your hair, inhaling and kissing your neck.

“More like ‘afternoon’,” you smile, reaching back and threading your fingers through his curls.

“Mhmm…I slept like a log,” he rolls over and stretches out, pulling you with him so that you end up half on top of him. You lean your chin on his chest and trace your fingers through his scruffy beard.

“Me too, and it seems like Jack did too,” you mumble, kissing his chest as he strokes your hair. And right on cue, Jack whimpers from the room across the hall and begins to cry.

“I’ll get him,” you say, pushing yourself off the bed, “he’s probably hungry, it’s been hours since he ate.”

“I know how he feels,” Frankie mutters, “I’m starving, we should see if we can give him the last of the spagettios and then go to the mess hall Maria mentioned.” He sits up and shoves his fingers through his curls, making them stand on end.

While you get Jack and get him to stop crying, Frankie gets the camping stove out and heats up some food.

“Hey, look,” he calls from downstairs, “someone’s left some supplies on the porch.” He comes in with a bag as you bring Jack down. “Looks like some clean clothes both for us and Jack, and some diapers.” He holds up some reusable diapers, “they’ve thought of everything.”

He comes over to Jack and gives his little belly a poke, “did you poop your pants, little man? Yeah, you did, I can smell you.” Frankie chuckles as Jack giggles and squeals. “Do you wanna do food or poop?” he asks you with a grin and you immediately hand Jack over to him.

“Food, you’re on poop duty,” you reply, grinning back at him and Frankie makes a grimace.

“Knew you’d say that, cariño,” he sighs, “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Too late now, Frankie,” you laugh and grab the last can of spagettios from his backpack.

Frankie starts cleaning up Jack as you warm the food and when Jack’s got a clean diaper on Frankie comes over.

“I was thinking about what Maria said before,” he says, setting Jack down on the counter and holding on to him, “About everyone doing what they can to help out this community.”

“You’re thinking about what they’ll say if you tell them about your background?”

“Yeah…” he trails off, watching Jack open his mouth for a first spoonful of pasta. “I’m not going to tell them about the PTSD or the drugs, it’s none of their business and I’ve got it under control. But if I tell them about my army background, they’ll want me to do patrols, and I’d like to do that, if you’re ok with it?” Frankie looks over at you, his eyebrows drawn together in that slightly worried look.

“I can’t imagine doing patrols and guard duty here is anything like what it was like with FEDRA, Frankie,” you say, putting your hand on his arm, giving him a reassuring squeeze, “And if you start feeling it, please Frankie….” you gently take his chin between your thumb and finger and give him a little tug with every word, “You’ve. Got. To. Tell. Me.” You look into his warm brown eyes and he gives you a crooked smile.

“I know, no more hiding things,” he nods, taking your hand from his chin and pressing his warm lips to your palm, “I promise, for real this time.”

“Good. Because we didn’t just go through all that shit and travel halfway across the country for you to do all of that again,” you smile as he pulls you in by your hand and leans his forehead against yours.

“I promise, I really, really mean it, no more lies, no more hiding, I’m going to be what you deserve now, cariño.” He dips his head and finds your lips, one hand still holding on to Jack who’s gurgling happily on the counter, the other slipping around your neck and holding you just as close as the little boy.

Once Jack is fed and changed you heat up some water on the old wood fired stove. The old house you’re in has a modern kitchen but both the living room and the kitchen have the old fireplace and stove and plenty of firewood stacked next to them. You light a fire and Frankie gets water from the hand cranked well outside. It’s not exactly a hot shower or bath but it’s warm water to wash in and you take the chance to wash some of your clothes too, hanging them to dry in front of the fire before you leave for the mess hall.

The mess hall is easy to find, it’s the largest building in the old gated community and used to be the community center. Someone has made a rough wooden sign and it hangs over the door of the western style building. Frankie holds Jack on his hip, his other hand holding yours as you walk down the main street towards the hall. You can’t help but glance at Frankie and Jack. It’s almost hard to believe the change that Frankie’s undergone in just a few weeks since you left Boston. The withdrawals had left him haggard and tired looking, and you know he’d struggled with the more psychological symptoms longer than the physiological symptoms. But traveling further away from Boston had changed his mood and with the added responsibility of Jack, a child to care for, you started seeing a version of Frankie that you hadn’t seen since before the outbreak. You don’t think he’s even realizing it himself but you’re seeing how he’s slowly turning back into the dad he was to Lucía, treating Jack like a son even though he might not be ready to see him as such. At least not yet.

Now he bounces Jack on his hip, tickling the boy's chin as Jack happily gurgles up at him and you see Maria smiling at the two of them as you enter the mess hall.

“Hey there, I was wondering when you’d show up,” she says, coming over and smiling at Jack who gives her a toothless grin.

“Thanks for the supplies,” you say, “I’m guessing you had something to do with that?”

“Yeah, I thought you might need some things to feel a bit more human after traveling for as long as you have.” She gestures to a cantina set up at one end of the room, “Have some food and come and sit down with us.”

You grab some bowls of rich looking stew and say hello to the woman overseeing the cantina. She’s delighted by Jack’s gurgling smile and gives him a small bowl of fresh blueberries that she mashes up with some honey.

“Someone kept bees in one of the gardens before the outbreak,” she says, “so we now have a huge bee colony and more honey than what we know what to do with.”

You thank her and join Maria and Patrick at a table in a corner of the mess hall. The stew is warm and hearty, and you have to pace yourself or you’ll inhale it, hungry as you are by now. Maria and Patrick let you finish your food before Patrick leans forward and leans his elbows on the table.

“So, you seem like decent folk, but I’m sure you understand we’d like to know a bit more about you now that you’ve had a chance to see our community.”

You both nod and Maria looks at you, “Where have you come from?”

“Originally, when the outbreak happened, Arlington, a town down south. But we’d been in Boston for about five years by the time we left.”

“What made you leave? You’re a long way from Boston and it’s a dangerous journey,” Patrick glances between you and Frankie and Frankie answers first.

“Have you heard of a group that calls themselves The Fireflies?” he asks and both Maria and Patrick nod, “They were causing a bit too much trouble in the QZ. They blew up a guard station, a truck, and FEDRA responded as you can imagine, making life very difficult. So we decided to leave.” Frankie glances over at you and takes your hand and rubs little circles into your skin, “We met a year before the outbreak, she’s been my wife for over ten years and I wouldn’t have survived without her, luckily for me she was willing to risk it all and come with me when it became necessary to leave Boston.”

Frankie’s telling a truncated version of the story behind why you left but for now, there’s no need for anyone to know anything else.

“She used to work the civilian radio in Boston and we know the Fireflies are making trouble all across the QZ’s so at first we just planned to get away from Boston and find an isolated farm and try to survive on our own, how long that would be didn’t really matter, as long as she was with me.” Frankie continues to tell the story of your journey across the Midwest, ending with how you found Jack and his mother and how you stole the slavers’ pickup.

“We’ve heard about slavers from some of the people who have joined our community,” Maria says, “the outbreak really brought out the worst kind of behavior from certain people.”

“We’ll certainly make use of your radio skills,” Patrick says to you, “there’s a radio tower nearby that we haven’t managed to fix yet, we need to fix the dam first, but you might be able to help us with the radio when it comes time for that.”

You nod, “I can fix most things on the particular model we had in Boston, if we have the right parts, but Frankie’s the real fixer.”

“What have you worked with, Frankie?” Maria asks and you see Frankie inhale, there’s so much trauma connected to what he did both before and after the outbreak, and you take hold of his hand, squeezing it lightly, giving him your support, and you can tell both Maria and Patrick senses the tension.

“Before the outbreak I was retired from the army,” Frankie begins, trying to keep his hand from nervously shooting up and rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m ex special ops, Delta Force, I was a helicopter pilot, a soldier.”

You can see Maria and Patrick exchange a quick glance and Patrick nods, “I’m not gonna lie, Frankie, we live under constant threat of raiders and infected here, to have someone with your background on our side would be a great help.”

“I realize that, and so did FEDRA, they recruited me in exchange for letting myself and my wife stay in the QZ we got to at the beginning of the outbreak. But I didn’t stay with them for too long, their ways of doing things…” Frankie trails off and shakes his head. “So, we,” he glances at you, “did what we needed to do to stay alive. We both smuggled, got stuff into the QZ’s we were in both for our own survival and benefit. But we did good too, I hope,” he looks at you again and you nod.

“We did good, Frankie, you know that. We brought in medicine and supplies that FEDRA was denying the population.”

“Everyone here has lived under FEDRA rule,” Maria says and Patrick nods in agreement, “we know all too well what it’s like. I don’t judge you for being smugglers, as long as you’re good people.”

You feel Frankie tense up at the last words, but he bites his tongue as you squeeze his hand.

“We stopped smuggling a while back though,” he says instead, “I couldn’t handle the risk it put her in,” he looks at you and his eyes soften as you smile at him, “and then, when it got more dangerous, I didn’t want to risk leaving her behind alone if something would happen to me.”

“Well, we don’t need smugglers here, but we do need good guards and we all take turns doing guard duty or go on patrols,” Maria says, “We run this place like a commune, everything we have is owned by everyone, and we share the resources we bring in.”

“I’m in charge of the hunting parties,” Patrick says, “so if either one of you is a good hunter, let me know. We eat mainly meat that we trap or shoot, but it’s hard work feeding everyone.”

“Our crops are starting to ripen, we’ve worked hard all year to cultivate local crops and we hope to have greenhouses too at some point. But for that, we need electricity, so that’s our first priority,” Maria explains, “but we’ll give you some time to settle in today and I’ll show you around tomorrow.”

“Frankie, if you don’t mind, can I take you up to the dam tomorrow?” Patrick asks and Frankie nods.

“Yeah, sure, whatever works for you,” he replies, “If you’re ok with taking Jack tomorrow, cariño?”

You nod and Maria reaches over the table and strokes the baby’s hand, “We don’t have any babies here, yet at least, but we hope that Jackson will be safe enough for people to raise families in the future.” She looks up at you and Frankie and seems to hesitate, “I know you two accidentally became Jack’s caretakers, but I get the sense that you’d like to continue to care for him?”

You both nod, “We feel responsible for him now,” you say as Frankie puts a protective hand around Jack and smiles at him, “and we did promise his mom to keep him safe, at least until we could find his uncle, and with him gone, that feels more important than ever.”

“What happened to his uncle?” Frankie asks, looking up again and Patrick grimaces and shakes his head.

“It was two clickers, three of us were clearing out one of the last houses in Jackson, outside the gated community, and we'd killed three runners and heard nothing else. But they were inside a shed in the yard and came rushing out as we approached. Jack was unlucky, got bit as we took them down.”

“We’ve been here just over six months now and we’ve lost three good people to raiders and infected,” Maria says, “and it never gets easier. But we’ve learned a lot from each death, we’re safer now, better guarded.”

“Sorry to hear it,” Frankie says, “but you seem to have built up a good perimeter defense, judging by what we saw when we rode in.”

“I would love to have your eyes on it, Frankie,” Patrick says, “give us some advice on improvements.”

Maria gives a low chuckle, “Give the man a break, Pat, he’s been here all but two minutes and you’ve already commandeered his time.”

“It’s alright,” Frankie said, shaking his head, “No problem at all, if we’re staying here I’m more than happy to help out in any way I can to keep this place as safe as possible.”

“Speaking of staying then,” Maria says, smiling at you and Jack now, “why don’t you have a wander around Jackson, and see what we have to offer. It’s not big but I think it’ll give you an idea about what we’re trying to build here and we’ll see you tomorrow morning?”

“Sounds like a plan,” you say and Frankie nods, shaking Patrick’s offered hand.

“Welcome to Jackson.”

It doesn’t take you long to see all of Jackson, the community is clearly very small but like Maria had said, you could see what they were planning. People were working on a number of projects around the small gated community and the park in the center had given way to crops that looked almost ready to harvest. The garden of one of the biggest houses has been converted into a stable yard and a stable is almost fully built up against the wall that surrounds the community. You say hello to Winston and Ned, who turns out to be the one responsible for Jackson’s horses.

At the furthest end of the small town is the slaughterhouse, where fresh game has been brought in by two women and hung up, the blood trickling from two white tail deer.

As you wander back towards the house you’re staying at, Frankie hooks his arm around your waist and pulls you close.

“This all feels very…normal,” he says, “like maybe they have a chance at making this work.”

“Normal, apart from the infected and the raiders?” you say, looking up at the high wall that surrounds the small community, guards with rifles patrolling at the top.

“Yeah, but Maria and Patrick seem to have the right idea about how to run this place, so maybe they can make it work,” Frankie glances around the small town, “It’s kinda like the settlers in the old west. You were somewhat safe in the towns but it was dangerous to travel outside them. The biggest problem with what’s happened after the outbreak isn’t the infected, it’s how FEDRA handled the situation.”

You’ve arrived at the house and Jack’s fallen asleep so you put him down and join Frankie out on the porch.

“So what do you think?” he says, pulling you down onto his lap and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Do you think we should stay here and make a go of it?”

“I think so, Frankie, if you think you’ll be alright with patrols and guard duty?”

“Yeah, I think so…” he rubs his hand up and down your back, looking out over the small street the house is on, “It’s not for FEDRA, it’s for this place, for you and for Jack, to help keep you and this place safe.”

“I think you’ll be able to help them a lot too, you can use your skills for something that really makes a difference for this place.” You run your fingers through the curls at the back of his head, long enough now for you to wind around your fingers. Frankie’s looked away from the street and is looking at you, his warm brown eyes soft as he smiles up at you.

“And they have sturdy doors on these houses,” his hand has drifted up from your back to wrap around your neck and he’s gently pulling you closer to his lips. As you smile the pink tip of his tongue comes out and licks his plush bottom lip, you don’t even need to feel the bulge growing under you to know what he’s thinking about. You press your lips against his as he pulls you closer, his mouth opening to let you in with a low groan.

“Cariño,” he mumbles, “this is all I ever want,” his hand presses against your back as he deepens the kiss, “you and me in a quiet place where I can give you everything you deserve.”

“You deserve it too, Frankie,” you mumble, his hand tangling in your hair as his tongue slips in between your lips. You can feel him nod under you but you lose all train of thought as he bucks his hips under you.

“Fuck, hermosa…” he mutters, “we need to move inside or our new neighbors…”

You pull him up, take his hand and slip through the door while he wraps his arms around you from behind, kicking the door closed with his foot.

“Bring Jack upstairs and put him in the crib,” you say, as Frankie starts kissing your neck, pushing your hair out of the way.

“Do you really think we’ll make it upstairs,” he mutters, his hand already tugging at your t-shirt, slipping it under it and pushing under your bra.

“We have a kid now, Frankie,” you chuckle, “no sex in front of the baby.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he grumbles and pulls away from you, keeping it decent as he picks up Jack, carefully to not wake him, and follows you upstairs. Once Jack is safely nestled into his crib and the door closed but with a crack open in case he wakes up, Frankie comes into your bedroom with a smirk.

“You’re gonna need to be quiet or you’ll wake him and alert the neighbors, and I’m gonna make sure you really wanna scream my name, cariño…” he wiggles his eyebrows at you and you hold your finger up to him.

“Francisco Morales, you wouldn’t dare,” you wave the finger threateningly in front of him as he stalks across the room, making you back up until your legs hit the bed, his grin is lethal, all wicked intentions and mischief.

“Just let me take care of you, mi hermosa, mi amor de mi vida,” he croons, slipping his hands around your waist and gently pushing you back onto the bed, making you crawl up towards the top as he bends his head and starts kissing every inch of skin he can reach while peeling off your shirt, quickly followed by your pants. When his wide shoulders pushes your legs apart you groan and fall back against the sheets. You can feel his hot breath against your core as he settles down and grabs your thighs, kneading them and letting his fingers caress the soft skin.

“Frankie,” you sigh, reaching down and threading your fingers through his curls.

“Fuck…” he grumbles, “I’ve missed this, this sight, this smell, cariño, you’re so fucking sweet,” without warning he dips his head and runs his tongue through your folds, a long deep lick that ends at your clit. The sensation explodes through your nerve endings and you arch your back up, pressing your hips against his mouth.

“Did you miss this too, hermosa?” he chuckles, looking up at you from between your thighs, a smirk on his face, but before you get a chance to answer he dives back down, tasting every part of you as his nose circles around your clit but never really touching. The teasing makes you moan, canting your hips up against him and he pins you down with an arm over your middle.. When he slips in two fingers you’re already on the edge, with a whimper you cry his name, trying to keep your voice down. He pumps them slowly, curling them back as his lips seal around your clit. You glance down at him and he’s got his eyes on you, his black eyes are glowing as he watches you pant, your body taught as a bowstring.

He lifts his head slightly, his mouth hovering just over you and every one of his breaths sends tremors through your body.

“Come on, let me feel you come on my mouth and then I’ll fuck you, I wanna feel you around my cock so badly, cariño, you have no idea how hard I am…” he grinds his hips into the mattress, dragging the tip of his tongue over your clit again. His words and his eyes, still burning up your body makes you groan, barely able to keep looking at him. As his lips close around your clit again, ramping up the pressure, you throw your hand over your mouth, biting down hard on your lip as you moan. When you fall over the edge his fingers almost stop moving as you spasm around them but the rough pads keep pushing you through every wave that crashes over you. Frankie doesn’t let up, his tongue flicking over your clit as heat courses through your body until every muscle in your body relaxes and you fall back against the bed.

“So fucking good, cariño,” Frankie moans, trailing sticky kisses along the soft skin of your thighs, moving up to your hips, resting his head there and looking at you as he caresses your skin.

“Come up here and fuck me then, Frankie,” you mumble, reaching down for him and he groans, hiding his face against your hip, sucking a mark into you, making you hiss under him. His tongue comes out and soothes the mark before he sits up and quickly pulls off his shirt and pants before crawling up the bed, hooking his arm under your knee as he goes. He’s painfully hard and weeping, you can feel him drag over your leg, the contact makes him exhale sharply and he grabs his cock firmly. He slides the tip through your sensitive slick folds as he bends down and slips his tongue between your lips. You feel the familiar stretch of him as he pushes the blunt head into you, forcing your knee up higher and grinding his way deeper.

He gasps as you involuntarily clench down around him, “Bebita…fuck…so tight..I…I can’t fucking move…” With a deep groan he pulls out a little before slamming in deep again, making you bite down hard on your lip to stop yourself from crying out. Your arms come up around his neck and pull him down closer as he begins to move in earnest. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and moves in and out, slow at first but soon he picks up pace, groaning over you as his own high draws near. The familiar tingling is building inside you again as he hits a spot deep inside and he can feel you starting to tremble around him.

“C’mon…please…again, hermosa, fuck…” he pushes himself up on one elbow and looking down at you, his sweaty curls hanging over his forehead as his hand slides down and grabs your hip, “I’m…fuck…” he drops down with his forehead against yours, his eyes squeezing shut as your climax explodes through your body and you feel him follow, grinding deep. Both your moans mix in the air, all attempts at keeping quiet forgotten until you collapse on the damp sheets.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his face against your neck, “I came inside you, is it ok?”

“Yeah, I would’ve stopped otherwise, I forgot to tell you it was ok,” you mumble, kissing his damp forehead and pushing back his curls. As you start caressing his hair, scratching his scalp he snuggles deeper into your neck and sighs contentedly.

“I missed this so much, cariño,” he mumbles, “you and me, a bed, nothing else.”

“And a sturdy door?” you smile as his arm comes up around your body, his hand resting on your breast as his thumb lightly strokes across the nipple.

“Yeah, a sturdy door with a lock,” he nibbles at your neck, pressing light kisses along your jaw until he settles down again, humming under his breath.

“I wish there was some way we could let Will and Benny know about this place,” he says after a while. “It’d be good to have them here if they could make the journey.”

“Yeah, I miss them, and Eve and Diana,” you sigh, “and I think Maria and Patrick would love to have two more ex Delta Force guys here.”

Frankie rolls over, pulling you with him so that he can pull your back against his chest and wrap his arm around your waist, “We’ll keep an eye out, maybe we’ll figure something once we fix the dam,” he kisses the back of your head, tucking you in under his chin, “sleep now, cariño.”

…

Patrick comes by next morning and knocks on the door as you’re finishing up breakfast. Frankie grabs his pack and leaves after giving you a kiss and dropping a peck on Jack’s head. He makes you smile when you hear him give the baby instructions to behave and be a good boy for tu mamá .You hadn’t even thought about yourself as his mom, Julia was still his mom, but you guess Jack would have to call you something once he started talking, and Frankie seemed to have settled on mamá for now. It made your heart warm to hear his affection for the little boy, finding him and his mother had maybe been very lucky for you and Frankie, as well as for baby Jack.

For the first time in years, Frankie didn’t feel worried about leaving you behind as he left and went outside the safety a wall entailed. Jackson felt safe, not just because of the wall, but because of the people on the inside. He glanced back up at the gate as it closed behind him, it looked strong and sturdy, and the guards on top were alert.

Patrick, or Pat as he asked Frankie to call him, had brought a group of men and women on the short ride across to the Jackson dam. As they rode Pat pointed out how they’d started building a wall that would circle around the dam structure too.

“That way we won’t have to worry about raiders cutting the electricity once we get it up and running, or infected getting in,” he says, “both possibilities are something we have to take into account whenever we go to the dam now. We have to clear the dam compound every time.”

This time there’s nothing in the building or around it, and Pat leaves three guys to keep watch on the wall over the main entrance.

Together the crew looked over the different components and Pat explained to Frankie what parts they’ve been having problems with. It took them the better part of the day to figure out that something is blocking one of the mechanisms deep inside the dam, then another hour to find the right maintenance hatch and get it open. The tell tale sound of a clicker comes up from the deep hole as they wrench the hatch open. Ladders, however, seem to be something, infected can’t handle so it’s not too much of an issue to shoot the poor dam worker through the head as he scratches against the wall under the hatch. For good measure Frankie and Pat toss a few rocks into the maintenance tunnel and lower a flashlight to lure out any remaining infected. When they deem it safe enough Pat carefully climbs down while Frankie and another man, Walter, cover him.

“Alright, all clear down here,” Pat’s voice comes back up from the tunnel and Frankie climbs down, followed by Walter.

They follow the tunnel down to the entrance in the dam wall and climb out, spotting the problem immediately. A large mess of plastic scraps and synthetic rope has tangled into the mechanism and it takes an hour to clear it without creating further damage. Eventually the machinery turns smoothly and Walter remains behind as Frankie and Pat climb back up to the main operating room.

“Now, if we’ve done everything right, things should work now, and the first turbine will start generating enough electricity to start the main turbines and produce electricity for the town,” Pat hoover his hand over a button and gives Frankie a tight smile, “So far, this hasn’t worked once, so fingers crossed, Frank.”

He pushes the button and in the distance they hear machinery kicking into gear, running for a few seconds before shutting down.

“Fuck…” Pat mumbles, scratching his head, “that’s more than we’ve had before but I don’t know why it shut down.”

“It sounded like it started fine but short circuited,” Frankie says, “Let me open up and check behind the console.”

“Let me know if you need anything, I’m gonna go check on the turbines,” Pat says, leaving Frankie to grab a set of mismatched tools and pry open the console. He sees the issue as soon as he opens it, a thin tendril of smoke is rising from one of the wires, the insulation has corroded and it’s touching another wire. It’s a matter of minutes to rewire it and make sure the inside is protected from any dampness. Once the dam is up and running the heating will keep this dry and protected.

“Pat,” Frankie calls, “I’ve fixed I think, let’s try it again.”

Pat comes back and motions to Frankie to hit the button, “Do the honors, you’re the one who fixed the last bit.”

“Here goes nothing,” Frankie grimaces and gently pushes the button again. This time the machinery kicks into gear, running smoothly for a couple of minutes until a louder rumble starts up, the main turbines starting to turn and suddenly, making both men startle, lights flood the room their in, lights go on all over the console and static starts pouring out of an abandoned radio on the window sill.

“Oh shit! It worked! It fucking works!” Patrick yells, punching the air before clapping Frankie on the shoulder with a big grin. From the outside they can hear yells of delight from the other men and women of the work party. They go out to join them, leaning over the edge of the dam and watching the water pump through the turbine hall and the lights in the lamps lining the edge flicker to life.

“All the cables feeding electricity to Jackson are underground so we’re hoping they’re unharmed, the town should have electricity now!” Pat says, grinning widely, “Come on, let’s head back and make sure everything’s working.”

Three of the guys are staying behind to keep guard and make sure the dam runs smoothly, they’re to be relieved in a few hours, for a night shift.

“We can’t leave the dam unguarded now,” Pat says, “and we might need to do something about the lights, black them out for now, so that we don’t draw too much attention to it.”

When they get back to the Jackson gate people are waiting for them, you’re there with Jack on your hip. The lights in the house had suddenly come on, a few of the light bulbs immediately broke, but the fridge started humming and the tv buzzed to life with loud static that startled Jack enough to make him cry. You had to run around and turn as much as possible off, checking what worked and what didn’t. The hot water boiler seemed to be working just fine and was full of water that was slowly heating up. Even the radiators came to life, warming the house. Maria had shown up a little while later, on her way to the gate.

“Let’s go greet our returning heroes,” she laughed, “I can’t believe we’ve got electricity!”

All of Jackson turned out, forming a crowd just inside the gate and everyone cheered as the work party, led by Pat, rode into town. Frankie quickly found you in the crowd, grinning wildly as he came over, his horse in tow.

“What a welcoming committee;” he grinned, bending to kiss you and then Jack.

“How does it feel to be a town hero on your second day, Frankie?” you laugh, hugging him tightly as he took Jack from you, putting him on his hip.

“Feels good, feels like coming home, cariño. Feels like coming home.”

Chapter 36

If anyone reading knows how a hydroelectric dam actually works, don't tell me all the mistakes I made, I'm playing fast and lose with the technical details here!

I'm also kinda playing lose with any abandonment issues Jack should, realistically, have after being taken from his mother at six months. But I'm excusing that by thinking that he probably didn't get to spend too much time with his mother anyway, in my mind Julia would've been forced to work straight after giving birth and Jack was left behind whenever the slavers wouldn't let her bring him to whatever work she was made to do (seriously, the last part of The Last of Us 2 is horrifying, it gives a very nasty view into how a slaver's camp worked in this world).

The song that Frankie sings to Jack is called Arroz con Leche and is a well known Latino lullaby. You can hear the version Frankie sings if you look for Arroz con Leche sung by Soleada Arboleda on Spotify!

Taglist: @pimosworld @i-own-loki @casa-boiardi @littlenosoul @stormseyer @mxtokko @javicstories @nunya7394 @welcometothepedroverse @harriedandharassed @meveispunk @hiroikegawa @jwritesfanfics @vickie5446 @your-slutty-gf

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales fanfic #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #Frankie morales smut #francisco catfish morales #triple frontier fanfic

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bl00dlight · 2 months

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Ooh I just saw the ask you answered about if Aemond genuinely cares about people and what not, and I loved your answer, very succinct. But it got me thinking, just food for thought really; if Aemond were to meet someone who genuinely loves him back and shows him this love, in a sense that he perhaps would know this person wouldn't betray him/wouldn't hurt him (be it a romantic partner or otherwise). How do you think he would react then? Do you think that, if he knew this person cared for him the same way, he then would allow himself to be vulnerable and trust the person enough to open himself completely?

I won't say similar because it's not that kind of relationship that I mean, I mean an actual real one, but kinda like the vulnerable we see him being in the brothel with the madam? Because there he looks fairly comfortable letting his walls down.

An Analysis Of Aemond Targaryen: Relationships, Romance, Cluster B Personality Disorders, Avoidant Attachment and How Childhood Trauma and Family Dysfunction Fucked His Ass Up.

I've written a psychology paper for you.

I have not proof read this. Idgaf about typos.

Also obviously as I say later, when I talk about this shit - it's in the context of me talking about a FICTIONAL, exaggerated character who has ungodly levels of power. Not your average traumatised irl person. So please do not come for me, I'm analysing AEMOND not you/others irl.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Answer;

I think it would be a nightmare.

I don't think he is capable of a stable reltionship. Just like many men in our world, Aemond needs CBT and like maybe a prescription for vallium to help him chill the fuck out.

This isn't a call out by the way, thank you for your question its a genuinely interesting one that Ive thought about alot. But I think fanfiction can start to feel like accurate interpretations of characters. So alot of the idea of Aemond being this soft baby boy on the inside who just needs a woman who loves him to fix him is a completely false dichotomy.

So here is why -

ATTACHMENT ISSUES? PROBABLY.

Aemond didn't actually really care about the Madame. We know that because he walks out and basically says 'A whore is a whore.' In his mind she is just a means to an end - he feels comfortable with her because she is familiar, but ultimately she is still below him, still what he would consider immoral and dirty. Remember he is paying her, he is buying her silence, her discretion and her submission. This is a consensual relationship, she isn't CHOOSING to do these things. He is buying her out.

The reality is, Aemond wouldn't be any different to Daemon. He would neglectful and likely alot less redeemable than Daemon - because ultimately Daemon's wounds are far more surface level, because Daemon is loved and has known compassion/warmth/supportive family etc.

Aemond hasn't. His ENTIRE identity is fractured. For example, take how he treats Alicent and Helaena - two people he knows both genuinely love him and cares for him (in there own dysfunctional ways) and he reciprocates this love and care. Yet look at how he treats them when he is triggered by something (feels weak, scared, confronted, vunerable).

Most people who come from dysfunctional families and have attachment issues or personality disorders or whatever other labels you want to give to trauma. Espeically for men who mainly become more avoidant or anti-social as a result.

They don't lean in to the people who genuinely care for them, they pull away. It's easier for Aemond to give in to the Madame, because she is familiar, but she's also distant. He has all the power. He can be vunerable because she literally cannot hurt him at all, she can't use that vunerablity against him, she can't abandon him etc. Why? Because he can do whatever he wants to her. He could just have her killed if she fucks him off. He doesn't actually care about her, there is no risk for him in being vunerable with her. Ewan Mitchell basically said it himself:

" 'Don’t let yourself get attached to anything you are not willing to walk out on in 30 seconds flat if you feel the heat around the corner.' That’s the code his character utilizes so he’s able to maneuver around this world without getting caught by Al Pacino.Aemond has a similar code that stops him from being hurt like he was as a kid. That’s why he’s able to walk out on the madam in that scene. He’s humiliated by his brother and all his crew, and it’s like this switch flips. The madam is no more. All of these people in front of him? They mean nothing. He stands up, he owns it. 'Yeah, I’m bulletproof. Anything you say, it will not work.' "

He isn't attached the Madame. He CAN just get up and leave because the dynamic is risk free. He has the power. But with Alicent or Helaena for example? Notice how he easily he crumbles? How he desperately wants/needs things from them. Comfort, validation, support, love? And when he feels he is being denied that - he shatters.

The trouble is, Aemond would never know someone isn't going to hurt them. If they are choosing to be there willingly, from what we've seen from his characterisation so far - that wouldn't make him less likely to hurt that person. It would make him more likely to hurt them. Which is standard practice with people who have been abused, they repeat that abuse onto others.

Genuine love, genuine vunerable is a fucken huge risk for him. A HUGEEE risk. That's why he kicks Alicent from the council - he can't be around her because she makes him feel vunerable and when he is in the council room he can't afford that. He'd rather convince himself the other person is weak/useless etc, then actually admit it's him who is the problem.

Again... look how he talks about Alicent and Helaena when they deny him, he calls both of them weak.

I legitmately think the Balcony scene is the perfect example of what you're asking about. Aemond does trust Helaena, and he does know she cares. He even thinks she won't hurt him. I mean she is the only one who HASN'T abandoned him. Look at how he approaches her, he is gentle and unknowingly manipulative. And when he feels those feelings become too much, the fear, abandonment, vunerablity etc, when he is rectifying with his own guilt the fact that he might have pushed away the last person who he had- he is literally about to cry. He didn't cry over the Madame that's for damn sure. He just gets up and leaves?

But Aemond doesn't leave at all. She denies him help over and over again, denies him validation and calls him out, and instead of walking away, he stays and threatens her in the hopes she'll give in. He is trying to maintain power over her, even though he knows he is completely powerless. That he can't do anything to stop her from walking away.

That is exactly what it would be like if he knew someone truly cared/loved him. He would be distant to maintain control most of the time, he would probably seek out alot of validation, he'd likely be gentle to some extent/ want to gain their approval - but once he has all those things, it would be an endless back and forth cycle and when he feels them pull away he would crumble and try to manipulate them back. And if they didn't give in, he would probably go back to threatening or abusing, just like with Helaena and Alicent.

Dont ask why but I know ALOT about attachment issues/personality disorders. He reminds me of a former narcissist I had a thing with, whom also had a raging avoidant attachment style.

BPD? Probably.

Now if we were to diagnose Aemond, I'd go down the bpd with narcissistic/anti social tendencies line of thought. Insert this tweet I found the other day:

There is really no fixing Aemond, the closer you are to him to more likely he would fuck you up basically. Because think about it? If he can be legitmately vunerable with you, if he ACTUALLY cares/loves you? There is a greater risk involved for him. It's harder for him to just up and leave when he needs to.

I mean we see him LITERALLY stay even after Helaena walks away. And then we see how he has another one of those shut down moments, his tear dries up, and he gets them cluster b shark eyes, like he did in the brothel.

Ewan Mitchell is unknowingly giving one of the most intensive, exaggerated yet nuanced depictions of a SERIOUSLY dysfunctional cluster B mf. Forget American Psycho or Girl Interrupted - Aemond Targaryen

And by the way, when I talk about this- just know I have alot of bpd friends, so I've had personal experience with them and they are some of the most deeply loving, insightful people I've ever met. All of them are trying their best to heal, which most borderlines really do try and want to get better. I also speak from a place of similar attachment issues and trauma - and believe me, my ass don't behave like Aemond at all. So I always speak with the knowledge that, I'm talking about fictional characters and not real people. And fiction is always exaggerated.

99% of people with bpd or dysfunctional attachement styles dont have narcissistic or anti social tendencies to the extremity Aemond does. It's a TV show, and Aemond is more comparable to the cluster B' s who are fascist leaders/cult leaders/serial killers/criminals etc then your average sufferer. So that's important to note.

I'm applying real world ideas to fictional characters to get a better understanding of how they tick. Aemond was written basically as a sociopath in the book. That's why I stress that his relationship with Alys is NOT a good one.

But in the show, the writers have 'humanised' Aemond which is code for "let's make his eventual villainy rooted in deep familial trauma and neglect, but also make it so he is capable of love, care - etc" So basically you've given him untreated, festering BPD which as a result of the fact he is male, a Prince and a rides Vhagar: he develops narcissistic tendencies as a result of a superiority complex compounding with the fact he can only get validation when he achieves things/ feels powerful when others feel inferior ON TOP OF THAT in s2, the lack of familial support/abandonment is installing an even deeper lack for empathy for those he views below him. He is also validated by Targaryen supremacy and subscribes to the idea that he is more deserving and entitled to power and a Targaryen legacy. He thinks being vunerable is a weakness because thats what he is taught. He thinks you get power via violence. Thus why he idolises Daemon who is his parallel.

Daemon also might be a tad bit cluster B. But, significantly less. He probably falls more into the line of general male fuckery and an unhealthy attachment style.

Aemond is sort of leaning into the Anakin/Scarlet Witch line of psychology more so then the typical American Psycho or Joker or Ramasy Bolton, Joffery Lannister etc etc; chaos for chaos sake.

In fact I think Aemond's greatest parallel isn't Daemon - it's Visenya Targaryen. Which is no doubt WHY Vhagar chose him. And Visenya too devolves into a total state of genocidal mania too. Probably why Jace told Rhaenyra not to idolise her.

Visenya was extremely stern, powerful, dutiful and most importantly: believed DEEPLY in Targaryen supremacy and loved her siblings fiercely. She was basically the one who got shit done, who was the driving force of the conquest and was able to whip Aegon into shape. She didn't fuck around, and she didn't like being fucked around. She even pulled a knife out on Aegon to prove his guards were slow and shit - thus establishing the King's Guard.

But she devolves into chaos and rage after Rhaenys dies and ESPECIALLY when it's Rhaneys' son who is Aegons heir not Mageor - WHOM ALSO IS A PARALLEL TO AEMOND.

But we won't get into that.

DOES HE HAVE WOMAN PROBLEMS? PROBABLY.

So basically as I said, Aemond has woman issues. Not just mummy issues. He has WOMAN ISSUES.

Number one he is a teenage boy. He wouldn't be some daddy dom sex god. Espeically since he has zero experience outside of the Madame where... it seems like he just cuddles with her.

As Ewan said, Aemond finds substitutes for the love he couldn't find in his mother/family. Ultimately, no matter what - that's what he is after. He wants the love of his family. And so any outside source he gets it from is disposable, because it's a substitute- because it will never not be a power dynamic for Aemond. He is the most powerful mother fucker in Westeros. He literally tried to kill the KING and didn't get in trouble for it. He wants to be in control of the world around him, he wants to as Ewan said 'Be the Daddy' of his family. He wants to make THEM rely on HIM.

And isn't that funny? Isn't that funny... how desperately Aemond wants the throne, how he'd sacrifice anything for that power. Why do you think that is? Because it means his family has to answer to him. They can't ignore him, can't invalidate him, and they can't deny him love/respect. He'd have total power over the people he feels powerless against.

And look at what happens when Helaena for example denies him, she's the Queen and Alicent reminds him of this. That she doesn't BOW to Aemond. And it shows, it shows because he begs her to help him, because he knows he holds no power over Helaena.

In a weird way, his desire for the throne is the closest he can get to being a baby. Baby's hold a lot of power over those around them. And being King well? Basically everyone does everything for you. You can have what you want, you can do what you want and everyoneeee HAS to love/adore/admire you or its treason.

Think about how valuable that is for a man like Aemond, who wants that comfort, that adoration. He was literally being held by the Madame like he was JESUS.

I think Ewan is right in saying, Aemond doesn't have 'mommy issues' - as I'm watching him, I don't think he wants to submit to woman or be dominated by them. I think the whole coddling/adoration etc IS his version of dominating them.

It's his version of power. Of having a mother dote over you. It's not a humiliation thing, Aemond doesn't want to be humiliated or made to feel inferior or at the mercy of anyone ESPEICALLY NOT A WOMAN. (Again look at what he does to Alicent and Helaena. He legit tells his own mum to go back into the kitchen.)

He wants a woman to make him feel special and validated. To not see any wrong in him or make him feel othered. And even the Madame does this, she validates him by TELLING HIM THE BLACKS SHOULD BE SCARED OF HIM. And that he isn't a boy anymore, he is a man.

It's alot more trauma based and psychosexual then some pornified kink. He isn't really getting off on it. And we see that because when she goes to kiss him, HE PUSHES HER AWAY. If he wanted to be dominated then he'd let her do what she wanted?

It's very specific to show that. He is in control. Again, he isn't taking comfort in the fact he can feel like a helpless little boy. He is being comforted because he feels empowered.

And I think ultimately that dynamic would play out in what you're asking. That genuine love/care you felt for him would be weaponised into him basically siphoning validation from it. It would be a very.... transactional thing, why? Because that's all he knows. His whole life has been transactional. He's been taught that love IS conditional and love IS synonymous with power.

He is looking at Aegon and thinking??? Look at how much attention he gets from Alicent? It's not because Aegon is more worthy of being King, it's because Aegon has power? Aegon has been given everything already just for being born first.

I think Helaena files into that. He WISHED Alicent had given him Helaena as a wife. Why? So he could prove himself worthy. So he could outsource all the love/validation he could from being given that power.

And what is that? Well Aemond tells us as a kid, 'To keep the Valyrian bloodline pure'. Which is what? Power. That's a big reason why Targs marry each other politically is to reinforce power. Had Aemond married Helaena, that would grant him power. Not only from the fact he's basically been provided a wife the point of heirs/politics - but it also because a wife is supposed to love and be dutiful to her husband. A wife is supposed to tend to her husband, even over her children, her duty is to HIM.

So in conclusion - I don't think anything could truly replace that for Aemond.

But I think the fact he views Helaena and Alicent as equals to him, makes it worse. In a weird way as a woman, the more he cares/loves/views you as an equal- the more likely he is to lash out against you because you have the power to hurt him.

He has to actively PUT DOWN his mother, when speaking to Helaena. He literally mentioned that ALICENT IS NOT LIKE US, SHE DOESN'T GET IT. In order to distance himself further from her, and distance himself from the pain of being abandoned by her.

IN CONCLUSION

Can you fix Aemond? No.

Would he become better just if he was shown love/care? No.

Is he capable of love/care. Yes.

Is there a chance at a healthy relationship with him? No. Not without him going to therapy which doesn't exist in Westeros.

Would he be a nightmare? Undoubtedly.

And remember there is a big different between not being capable of feeling love and care VS being capable of it and only being able to express it unhealithly because that's your experience with it.

It's a really tricky thing, because we are taught that abusive people and ABUSIVE MEN in particular are basically psychopaths. And absolutely, they are a section in the vast range of abusers.

But the nuance and unfortunate truth to abusive relationships and why in particular they are so dangerous and AEMOND would be so dangerous - is because many abusers aren't psychopaths. They aren't innately evil or want to hurt you sadistically at least.

Alot of abusive people, are simply reliving their familial trauma. When love/vunerablity/care become weapons, become points of abuse - you don't know any better. And you view them as weaknesses. Because well? They are. They risk you being hurt, you being traumatised. Or for Aemond 'being that scared little boy again'.

So the unfortunate reality is, the closer you get to Aemond in terms of genuine love/care the darker it becomes. Because it would become a source of pain for him - which would trigger all the nasty things we see him do to Alicent and Helaena.

The only way THE ONLY way you could bypass it, is if you basically lost all sense of self and completely submitted to whatever he wanted. As long as you validated him in some way, or comforted him in some way - then it might work. But i don't think that would mean he would turn into a loving and warm man. I think the extent of how gentle he would be is how he is with Alicent and Helaena. And notices how quickly that switch is flipped and how easily he pushes them away when he feels he is getting too close.

And it's not like you could talk to him about it, it's not like you could point that out and say - because he'd view that as you challenging him, making him feel less then, small, inferior, bad, unworthy.

Again... cough cough. Helaena and Alicent? When they call him out for him burning the village and trying to kill Aegon? What does he do? He gets ANGRY. He pushes them away further. He even outrightly LIES to Helaena. Like poing BLANK LIES and tries to accuse her of treason.

Yall see? There would be no winning. If you did everything he wanted, and he loved/cared about you the relationship would still not be loving or warm or fulfilling because he is scared of his own vunerablity in it.

And if you tried to fix it or God forbid had your own desires/free will - he'd threaten you and feel abandoned and do what's called 'spiltting'.

He is black or white. He doesn't know the grey scale. He can temper himself only to the point and only when it benefits him, just so he can strike later. He is calculating. He didn't flip out on Aegon at the brothel. He waited and when he had an opportunity, he took it. Aegon was dead to him already.

So you'd be walking on egg shells. Your best bet if you wanted him to be soft and vunerable with you, is to be the Madame. Meaning he don't give a fuck about you and you'd have no say at all about what actually happens to you. And he holds all the power via money.

But this is just my analysis based on his character SO FAR. It might change as the seasons change because... lord knows his characterisation has been all over the place as everyone's have.

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