#I am closer to the beginning of my reading than even the middle

[thatscarletflycatcher]

My old arch-nemesis, we meet again ("it's all about the sex" academia)

[chrissv4mp]

— I COULD CHANGE YOUR LIFE -

the prologue , it was important. — | — ...back — | — next... — |

summary: chris has an obsession with you, one of the most famous pop stars of the last few years. when he goes out to eat at a local diner with some friends, he spots you, and his obsession turns to something bigger.

pairing: stalker!chris sturniolo × singer!reader

warnings + topics: cursing, stalking, murder, weapons, blood, obsessive behavior, suggestive moments, breaking & entering, crying, arguments, chris is crazy, choking, drowning, etc. more than half of these topics are mentioned in later chapters, not the prologue.

author's note: if the person reading this is sensitive to any of the topics listed above, please do not read this. i am not responsible for your own media consumption, and will not change any aspect of the story for your own pleasure.

author's note 2: no but real talk, this is probably the most motivated i've ever been while writing/coming up with a story😭 i really hope all of you enjoy this and please remember this is just my imagination and is not real at all!!!

word count: 1.8k

"don't be afraid of me,

i'm what you need."

chris laughs at his brother's joke, hand landing on matt's shoulder as he clings onto the brunette boy. nick just chuckles, glancing over at madison only to see her laughing her ass off as well.

nate smiles at matt, taking a quick look at chris before he lets out a quiet giggle. chris was always making the group laugh, he was just unintentionally funny at times.

chris begins to tickle matt with a cheeky grin on his face, resulting in his brother pushing him away. matt steps in front of chris before opening the door for his friends, flashing a smile at madison, nate, and nick. he only sticks his tongue out at chris, and his younger brother does the same.

matt couldn't help but laugh before following close behind the group, looking back to make sure nobody else was coming through the door.

"haven't been here in years." nick says, taking in the atmosphere of the older building as he looks around the place. he can't believe it's been so long.

madison listens with intent as matt chimes in, adding on to his brothers new topic, "yeah, i can't believe it's still up."

"we always went here after our lacrosse and hockey games for a celebration, even if we didn't win. it became a tradition until we moved to la, so it's special being here again." the middle triplet explains with a smile on his face, reminiscing the vibe of the place.

nate hums at his friends memories, looking around the small diner that was mostly empty. there wasn't many people who came here as often, but it was very popular back when the triplets were in high-school.

chris grabs both of his brothers, pulling them closer to him with a huge smile on his face, "yup, gotta love the memories we made in this place." nick grimaces at his brother's cheery tone, but he still pats his back affectionately.

matt just ruffles his hair before distentangling his and his brothers limbs, settling his hands in his jean pockets as he waits for someone to speak again.

"let's go sit?" madison suggests, and the whole group collectively agrees as matt and madison lead the way to a booth in the corner of the building.

all of them immerse in conversation as they look over at the menu, chris looking over at the kids menu occasionally and getting interested in the short list of options. chicken nuggets did sound good, but he wasn't seriously gonna get them.

"kid seriously got dino nuggets," matt laughs, and chris only flips him off, "shit is crazy."

madison looks over at chris, grabbing his forearm to slowly bring it back down on the table. as chris turns his head to look at her, she sighs, eyes wide in warning. "if you bark at me again..."

nick laughs, looking over at nate and matt to catch their reactions. nate snorts and matt laughs harder at his best friends reaction. he can't help but grab nates shoulder and rest along his back comfortably, tears almost pricking in his eyes.

madison forks a piece of steak into her mouth, looking over at chris to see that he's already munching on his meal.

"slow down, chris. you're gonna get the hiccups." matt says, tone warning as he looks at his brother with a slightly concerned expression.

the brunette picks up his sandwich before biting into it, his eyes trained on his younger brother as he bites down on a fry.

the others begin to eat, chatting in between bites as they get sucked into the topic of work. chris hates the topic, but he has no choice but to listen in. some of the stuff he finds interesting, like designs for merch and new ideas for vlogs over the summer.

he can't help but let his attention wander off from the conversation in front of him, eyes roaming the old diner and looking around for any other things that catch his eye. he doesn't want to think about work the entire rest of the night, that's actually what he wants to get his mind off of.

his foot taps against the side of the booths seat, his leg hanging off but not quite touching the floor just yet. did they raise the seating in this place? maybe, but all he could focus on at the moment was a girl sitting across from his friend group.

chris could only see the side of her face, but he knew who it was. he knew very well who hid in a booth at the back of the diner. it was y/n l/n, one of singers he's been obsessing over lately. what was she doing in boston? no, what was she doing in such a low-quality diner like this? he seriously didn't understand why huge a-list celebrities went to run-down places.

maybe for the aesthetic, the scenery. he does the same thing, but he never thinks bad of the places he goes to. nothing is really considered bad unless it's falling apart or smells horrible. like chobani yogurt. he couldn't stand the smell of that... substance. he wouldn't even clarify it as food!

"what the actual fuck." chris says out in the open, louder than he intended to but not loud enough that she could hear.

nick tenses up at his brothers tone, grabbing onto matts shoulder tight as he looks over at the younger boy, "what. chris, what?!"

matt winces at the small pain, but he also becomes alert, looking around the place for any signs of danger. he sees none, and his eyes return to chris again. everybody's eyes are on him now, but the longer-haired boys eyes aren't on them.

"chris!" nate exclaims, shaking his friends shoulder and finally making him come back to reality.

the brunette has to hold himself back from pointing, gripping the seat under him as he speaks quietly, like if he spoke any louder the building would collapse, "y/n l/n. y/n l/n is in that booth right-fucking-there, look, look!!"

the entire groups heads turn in sync, looking the direction that chris' eyes were pointed at. madison, nick, and matt's jaws dropped, and nate only looked around in confusion. madison began to shake matt by his shoulders, and he let her.

he was sure the entire group, minus nate, was in shock. they all had the same questions as chris, why was she here? who was that girl she was with? would she take a picture with them if they asked?

chris didn't give them any more time to think, practically jumping out of his seat and holding himself back from running straight towards her. he was about to meet his favorite female singer ever, and possibly even take a picture with her? how could this day get any better, seriously.

"hi, excuse me. sorry to bother you, but could i get a picture?" chris smiled, eyes glistening in the dim lighting of the diner, and maybe even in admiration of the beautiful girl in front of him.

she looked up from her friend, who chris knew as olivia rodrigo, and looked at him with a sweet smile. he swore her teeth glowed, "of course,"

she stood up from the booth, the drop being insanely tall for her shorter figure. chris had a couple inches on y/n which resulted in him looking down at the h/c girl. she cocked an eyebrow as she took a better look at him, eyes basically glowing at the realization.

"hey, aren't you that famous youtuber that films with his brother? correct me if i'm wrong, but you're chris, right?" she asks with slight confusion in her voice, and chris just stares in awe at the knowledge that y/n knows who he is.

y/n stares at him awkwardly, hearing olivia giggle behind her quietly. that's what snaps chris back to reality, and he nods his head, "yeah, yes, that's me! how'd you know? do you.. do you watch us?

he watches you. interviews, live performances, listening parties. that's what he meant, he wasn't some creep that followed around people he liked. probably.

she nodded her head as she looked up at the taller boy, still shocked that one of her favorite celebrities came up to her. y/n didn't even see him walk in, and now here he was, asking for a picture. "yeah! and i would assume you listen to me, hm?"

chris nodded happily, a grin on his face as he stared into her eyes with adoration. y/n was so much prettier in real life. now, he could really see all of her facial features, he could see the features that made her special, "yes! i love your music so fucking much. it always brings me up whenever i'm down, you're really a huge part in my life."

y/n made a gesture with her hands, putting them over her heart as she looked at chris with her doe eyes, "that means so much to me, chris. you're so sweet, thank you."

she couldn't help but wrap her arms around the boy, and chris only welcomed her warmly, taking in the scent of her perfume as his head rested on the h/c-girls shoulder. she smelled as good as she looked. damn, the things he'd do just to have her perfume on his nightstand.

fuck, the things he'd do just for her love, even. he would steal for her, and he had just met the girl. no, it felt like they've been friends for an eternity, and now they were just meeting again for the first time in a while. that's the real story. it's not fake.

"i saw you on the screens

i know we're meant to be."

matt opened the door again, beckoning all of his friends and his brother out the door of the old diner. he watched as chris stood still, leaning against the wall as he stated over at y/n. she was making small talk with her waitress as she signed on the bill.

chris couldn't get enough of the girl after that interaction they had. he couldn't get her out of his mind, she was just there, clouding all of his senses with nothing but y/n.

"hey, buddy!" matt snapped, and chris turned to look over at his brother who just stared at him with suspicion in his gaze, "are you coming or not? we don't have all night, y'know."

the younger boy shrugged, turning back to look at that beautiful girl, "i'll take an uber home. you guys can take madison to her hotel and nate to his house, i just have a few things to do."

matt sighed quietly, worry and suspicion flashing across his features as he looked at his brother. he just shrugged it off before walking out the door, and chris smiled when he heard the door shut.

he had things to do tonight, important things. his brothers wouldn't care if he was out late tonight, right? i mean, after all, he had to do this. it was important.

comment to be on this taglist! @livialifesblog @zayyluvz @snowysosturn @mirioosos @1800-love-me

[bbyobbyo]

You don’t usually wake up at the same time as Jihoon, but he definitely makes sure that you wake up with him everyday.

content: fluff, established relationship, idol!Jihoon x non-idol!reader, domesticity, spotify as a plot point lol

wc: 1.6k

note: inspired by this reddit post which i thought was 100% something jihoon would do especially now that i know he uses spotify lol. i feel like im the only one who finds it hardest to write for their bias, i get really in my head about whether or not im portraying him in the way I want to. i’ve never written idol!au either (bc i think it’s easy to overdo) which only adds to me overthinking ahhhh but hope that you guys enjoy this one !! as always feedback or comments are appreciated 🥰 I read all of them and they make me so happy hehe

[read pt.2 here!]

Jihoon swears there's something magical about waking up to a calm and quiet morning. The sun is barely just rising, blanketing the world in a soft twilight that cuts the dark blues of the waning night. And in his bed, he finds something equally as magical: your soundly sleeping figure next to him. The world is silent except for your steady breaths, and he has to take extra caution to not fall asleep again if just to enjoy the brief moments of tranquility like this during his otherwise busy life. Eventually he gets up to start his schedule for the day, taking one last look at your peaceful slumber in fondness before he closes the door behind him.

Make no mistake, Jihoon loves his job. Having 13 members in his group is fantastic, except when you realize that 13 people requiring styling and wardrobe before every public appearance takes a lot of time. His mornings may start early, but in reality most of his time is spent listening to music in salon chairs and dozing off in waiting rooms.

In fact, it was in the middle of getting his makeup done when he discovered that around 8:20 am every day, his Spotify (which he uses to listen to his daily Bruno Mars Mix playlist) stops playing on his phone and switches to… the speaker at home? He bought a new speaker a few days ago because the last one you had was on its last legs from years of use, but if it’s malfunctioning already then he might have to look into getting a new speaker sooner than he thought.

Upon closer observation, Jihoon also notices that the song has changed — it’s playing one of his songs, your favorite one actually. Immediately he realizes what happened. He contemplates shooting you a text to tell you to disconnect him and just sync your own Spotify account to the speaker, you’re home more often than him anyway. That thought quickly disappears, however, as he imagines you getting ready for work listening to the sound of his voice and genuinely enjoying the music that he pours his heart and soul into, he can’t bring himself to disturb you even for a moment. His eyes soften as he stares blankly at the Spotify home screen, headphones now deafeningly silent. Surely, Jihoon decides, he can live without his Bruno Mars Mix for just a while longer.

-

You sometimes wonder if your boyfriend is magic. Although a good morning text has been standard in your relationship since the beginning, it's starting to concern you how perfectly timed it is.

Normally, your morning routine is simple. Wake up. Get out of bed. Bump some tunes. Check your notifications. Brush teeth. Wash face. Get dressed. Pack bag. Leave the house.

You’re usually the one to text him good morning given your later wake up time, yet he’s been beating you to it lately. Yes, he knows you set your alarm 8:15 everyday because it's “the perfect amount of time you need to get ready and still make it to work on the dot”. But that doesn't explain why “rise n shine babe :))” pops up on your phone as you brush your teeth on the days you wake up early, too.

[8:06 am] you have to tell me how you do it

[8:06 am] Do what????

[8:07 am] im onto you mister 👁👄👁

[8:07 am] 👍👍👍

You spiral through the possible scenarios in your head: he has your location, but that wouldn’t tell him when you woke up right? Does your icon move around on the map? No, the location data isn’t that accurate. Maybe when you open your phone, your Facebook status shows that you’re online? No, you know for a fact that you both haven’t opened that app in years. Hmm, did he plant cameras everywhere in the apartment? Sure, you get the security utility of it but if he did it without telling you, there would be some SERIOUS things to talk about, maybe it really is all just guesswork and coincidence?

Sigh… you’ll get to the bottom of this eventually.

-

Jihoon doesn’t plan on telling you, but rather wants you to figure it out yourself. After all, he’s been dropping so many hints already. Your chill hangouts at his studio have a gentle hum of your favorite songs as background noise. He purposely asks you about the new albums of your favorite artists that, surprise, he’s already listened to. He even makes it a point to remind you that the speaker at home is hooked to his account every now and then.

Sometimes, he swears that you’ve figured it out and were just messing with him when you make little comments about your his song choices like “Really babe, you listen to your own songs this often? Are you sure you’re not a narcissist or something?” But besides these moments, there was no indication that you knew about his secret morning routine as you questioned him regularly about his tactics.

He has to admit, it was kind of amusing to see you growing increasingly suspicious of how on earth he figures out when you wake up, being particularly fond of the cute annoyed face you make when he tells you “No babe, I did not put an Air Tag in your pajamas, you barely sleep in clothes anyway.” Even your pout is adorable as you pretend to give him the silent treatment, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to keep it up for long. His little secret is safe for another day.

-

Jihoon has been working brutal hours lately. As deadlines for the upcoming albums drew near, his days start earlier than ever and end equally as late. However, the one thing he can always count on is coming home to you waiting for him.

It was the night of the new album release and you were more excited than usual, greeting him at the door like a lovesick puppy as soon as you heard the door handle turning. “Hi love, what are you doing up so late?” he pulls you into a quick kiss as he sets his stuff down.

“I wanted to wait to listen to the new album with you so you could see my reaction to it!” your eyes were beaming with enthusiasm. Jihoon’s heart swells at the sentiment, knowing that his partner supports him and his passions with such sincerity. You excitedly motion him to join you in your shared bedroom, full of anticipation to hear the fruits of your boyfriend’s labor for the past months. “Alright, you’re not allowed to be disappointed then” he jokes as he pulls out his phone, quickly finding the recently released album and making sure the volume is high enough before tapping the first track and handing it over to you.

Only a few seconds of the song passes before an idea flashes across your eyes. “Wait, let’s play it on the speaker!” you interrupt. You’re on your feet in seconds and before Jihoon could even reach over to press pause, you’ve already commanded your home speaker to play the track out loud. The music immediately ceases on his phone and switches over to the speaker.

Shit, he’s done for, he thinks to himself. He studies your face carefully for any indication that he’s been found out but surprisingly, your attention is laser focused on the melodies now reverberating around your apartment. You’re mostly quiet during the songs but the rhythmic nodding of your head and facial expressions are a tell all of how much you enjoy each track that plays, contorting in a myriad of impressed shapes as killing part after killing part reaches your ears.

As the album comes to an end you look like you’re about to burst at the seams. Your boyfriend can’t control his smile as compliments and detailed thoughts flow freely from your lips for the rest of the night, not ceasing even as the both of you walk through your unwinding routines together. God, you love comeback days. The elaborate music show stages that you will undoubtedly watch later that evening has already been pre-recorded, giving you precious time together in the morning before his schedule whisks him away from your arms once again.

As you get ready for bed, you drift off to sleep knowing that tomorrow, for the first time in what seems like forever, you can finally tell him good morning in person before he can.

-

Your alarm rings at 8:15 am. Jihoon doesn’t need to be up this early, but he would do anything in order to be the first thing you see when you wake. You roll around in his embrace and press a kiss to his cheek. “Good morning” you both whisper to each other at the same time, sending you both into a fit of giggles as you argue who said it first.

Jihoon watches in adoration from the bed as you so naturally go through your morning routine, one that he misses out on more often than he would like. Today, you forgo your usual morning songs as you queue up your personal favorites off the new album, much to his delight. He tries his best to burn this scene into his memory as you gather your things and prepare to head out, giving him one last kiss. You’re about to unlock the door when you pause in your tracks.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” he hums back from the bedroom.

“Enjoy the speaker, I can’t kick you off today.” you say with a smirk on your face as you exit the apartment, leaving Jihoon speechless.

[ellecdc]

Her darling

I was wondering if I could request Sirius black with a short gf? Something cute and fluffy or generally anything you like to go with because your writing is just immaculate.

(I’m not even sure if 5’3 is counted as short but I’ve always been the shortest among my friends so yeah)

Love you and your wonderful blog 🩵🩵

Hahaha I’m 5’3 too - stopped growing first out of all my friends so that was devastating lol. Thanks for your request babes!! 🫶

Sirius Black x short fem!reader

CW: teasing about height, fluff

Sirius was beginning to regret agreeing with James, Remus, Peter, and Lily to go to the muggle amusement park. Sirius was already one of the shortest amongst his friends, save Pete and Lily who both clocked in at 5’8, meaning most of his day was spent trying to climb onto Remus’ back in order to spot you in the crowd.

“For the love of Merlin, Sirius, I am not that short.” You seethed as you snagged Sirius’ arm, pulling him down (rather roughly) from Remus’ hips.

You could tell Remus didn’t particularly appreciate Sirius using him as a human stepladder, but he couldn’t help but appreciate the teasing opportunity it lent to the group.

“Poor darling,” Lily murmured in faux sympathy, “we’re going to have to find you one of those child leashes that parents attach to their child’s wrists.”

“Sod off, the lot of you.” You groaned and crossed your arms petulantly over your chest.

“Uh oh, almost nap time?” James commented, which earned him a kick in the shin. “Ouch! Okay, okay. Merlin.” He muttered as he moved well out of your kicking range.

“Sorry dollface,” Sirius sung to you, not sounding sorry at all. “I just worry; don’t want to lose you in the crowd.”

You moaned again but didn’t bother gracing him with a response.

You’d been waiting in the summer heat for the newest rollercoaster that was all the rage of this little town when you were nearly at the front of the line.

“Okay, quick. Y/N, stand here – we need to make sure you’re tall enough.” Peter called. And now you were mad – even Peter was taking a go at you!

“Are you- I will not!” You sputtered.

“Ma’am, please step forward.” The bored teenage attendant said, causing everyone in line to turn and look at you.

You burned with shame and more than a little bit of rage as you stepped forward obediently, standing beside the cardboard height measurement tool in the shape of cartoon giraffe which had a speech bubble above him reading “riders must be this tall to ride!”

Sure enough, you were indeed tall enough to ride, and were told to return to your spot in line with the same bored tone as you were beckoned forth in.

You moved back to the group; Remus, Peter, and Lily all looking as if they were about to suffocate under the effort to restrain their laughter, Sirius and James having no such qualms were laughing boisterously.

You spent the rest of the time in line with your arms crossed, pointedly ignoring any of your friends attempts to converse with you.

“Oh my love.” Sirius cooed and stepped up behind you, hooking his head over your shoulder and wrapping his arms around your middle, using his hands to try and pry your own arms from your body. “I’m sorry, dolly. I didn’t think the attendant would join in.”

“You’re an arse.” You muttered back.

“I’m your arse.”

“That’s not a romantic thing to say.”

“What would be a romantic thing to say?”

“That you love me.” You admitted shyly; glad that he couldn’t necessarily see the state of your cheeks, though he could likely feel the heat emanating from them from his place on your shoulder anyways.

Sirius cooed again and turned you in his grasp, peppering kisses all over your face. “I thought that was a given?”

You moaned petulantly again. “No. You’ve been so mean to me.”

“I’m sorry, lovie.” He cooed, sounding slightly more sorry than he had before. “If I was nice to you, that would mean I didn’t love you. That’s why I never make fun of Remus.”

“Oi!”

“I love you.” He proclaimed, ignoring Remus’ outcry. He leaned in closer, whispering so only you could hear it. “I’ll even beat up the attendant for embarrassing you – how about that?”

You considered his offer, eyeing up the bored worker ushering riders through the gates.

“Probably best you don’t – looks like a student’s summer job. You could end up in muggle jail for assaulting a minor.”

Sirius hummed in acknowledgement, lips attached to your forehead. “Worth it to avenge my little lovie.”

“Out of all of us, do you really love me the least?” Remus commented, interrupting your conversation.

“Of course not, Moons. I obviously tease Evans the least.”

“Hey!”

[un-lawliet]

“An Unfair Disadvantage”

— In which you fall apart after a mission and Gojo tries to hold you together.

(or i need a hug and can’t see myself getting one without extreme actions occuring)

The veil broke.

The curse was dead.

You felt yourself collapse on the ground, the stones below you cutting your palms.

Your sweating, your heart feels like it’s trapped in you throat and you can’t breathe.

Each attempt to get air is interrupted by weak sobs because fuck, you almost fucking died and you can’t even feel the pain that you’re in because you’re too overwhelmed with shock and fear. You feel sick.

And your shaky, bloody hands are clawing at your throat begging it silently to work with you, dizzy with stress and fear. Consumed with the memory of your battle.

A gust of wind and suddenly he’s there, pulling your hands away from your neck and holding them oh so gently.

“Baby I need you to breathe ok?” His voice alone rips a pathetic sob from your throat, your eyes blur and you push yourself closer to him, desperate to find comfort in the arms of the strongest.

He’s kneeling in front on you and if you weren’t so disoriented you would see the barely hidden, frantic look in his eyes and he looked over your body, examining your injuries.

“T-Toru I-’ Your voice is completely raw, breathless as sobs rack through your shaking body.

Gojos hands are on your face cradling you gently and he smiles at you, hoping that it came across as reassuring. “You’ve done so well pretty girl.”

And you can’t stop crying, even when your breathing regulates, tears stream from your eyes. You’re bleeding and broken but Gojos here and he’s looking at you with the softest gaze, thumbs gently stroking your the area under your eye, wiping away tear after tear with the patience of a God.

Leaning forward he kissed your forehead, wishing he could take your thoughts away. He wanted to protect you from everything and words couldn’t even begin to voice his rage for you being sent here alone.

“My strong, strong baby, taking on that curse alone.” He moved you into his arms letting you bury your face into his chest, breathing in his smell. He kissed the top of your head and felt his heart break as you cried and cried and cried.

You’re warm in his grasp, you feel safe in his arms.

“You’re alive, it’s over, you did so well.”

And Gojo swore he would hold you until you were ok, until this was a distant, horrible memory, that would only resurface in nightmares.

And when those nightmares come Gojo swears he would hold you close again and kiss you softly until you smiled at him again with that pretty little smile he loved more than anything.

the end

masterlist here <3

authors note: i have to work tomorrow and i’m genuinely miserable at that thought, why the hell am i working in an ice cream shop that’s like a billion degrees warm in the middle of july this is torture. ANYWAY thank you for reading i love u and have an amazing day/night <33

[ihavethedreamies]

Pineapple | Juicy Fruit | Jisung

Park Jisung - NCT Dream

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~2.1k

Pairing: Jisung  x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Reader-Insert, Smut, Established Relationship, Porn without Plot

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Swearing, Kissing, Oral (M! & F! Receiving), Sixty-Nine, Overstimulation, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex (Don’t!!)

Summary: You and your boyfriend wonder if the rumor about eating pineapple is true…

Author's Note: This series was supposed to be of drabbles, but uh…

This is only vaguely based off of Smoothie…I say this because I got the idea for a fruit theme, but past that its unrelated.

PS. I am still low-key in denial that Jisung is as hot as he is now my son is Daddy now

-> Series Hub <-

🍉 Mark 🍉

🍇 Renjun 🍇

🍌 Jeno 🍌

🍒 Haechan 🍒

🍑 Jaemin 🍑

🍓 Chenle 🍓

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other site. Happy reading!

You hummed, looking over your recent purchase. It sat on the counter, mocking you.

"Do you have any idea how to cut it?" Jisung asked from where he stood next to you.

"No…" You sighed in defeat. It was always expensive to buy pineapple precut, probably because it was difficult to prepare, but you loved it. So, you decided to get the full fruit, but you had no idea how to go about cutting it. You had seen different videos in passing, but never focused enough to remember. You could look it up, but that would be admitting total defeat, and you weren't ready for that yet. Your boyfriend's big hands picked up the fruit and held it closer to his face so he could look at it better. He was even less likely to know what to do than you, but it was sweet he was trying.

"Well, start from the top?" He suggested, running his finger over the divot where the stem met the rest. Jisung set it back down and you picked up the knife, starting with a small paring knife so you didn't get hurt. You stabbed it in, the sweet scent hitting both of your noses, making your mouths water. Sawing through the top you are able to pry the top off and you set the stem to the side. Looking down at the yellow flesh inside, you wondered how to get the spiky outside off. You had seen some people pull the pieces apart where the ridges were, but that might take too long.

"Could we just carve the outside off?" Your boyfriend suggested and you nodded.

"Yeah, I think that's for the best." You had wanted to try a hack or something, worried that you would butcher the fruit in the wrong way. He came back with a much bigger knife, the cover still over the blade. Dramatically, you shucked the cover off and held the knife in the air. Carefully and slowly, you begin to saw at the outside to get the peel off. It took forever, and there were still little round pieces of the outside marring the otherwise perfect, yellow flesh. Taking the paring knife back into hand, you carved the little remnants out as Jisung got a bowl for you to put the final product in. You then sliced the cylinder-like body into fours, slicing the woody middle section out, then finishing the cuts. When it was all done, you fingers were tingling a bit from the enzyme the fruit contained. Going to wash your hands, Jisung plucked a piece out and slid it into his mouth.

"Is it a good one?" You asked, drying your hands and he hummed in delight. Picking another piece out, he held it between two fingers out to you. He turned a bit pink when you took it straight from him with your mouth. Not nearly as bad as when you first got together, your boyfriend still got a little shy or flustered from your acts of affection. You both went to the couch then to keep watching the drama you had been going through, the bowl of fruit between the two of you. After the first few pieces, you ended up getting a fork to use so your fingers wouldn't tingle too badly. It seemed your tolerance for the stinging juice of the fruit was higher than Jisung's because he stopped every so often, wiggling his tongue between his lips to try and calm the burn.

"How do you eat so much of that stuff?" He asked as you popped another yellow piece in your mouth.

"I like sour stuff, so it’s a similar feeling."

"Why does it do that anyway?"

"Some kind of enzyme or something. They put it in meat tenderizer." You explained while you chewed, the food muffling your voice a bit.

"Huh."

"Supposedly it also makes you…taste sweeter." You tried to word it a little secretly. Your boyfriend was too precious, not really understanding innuendos or dirty jokes without an explanation.

"Like, your saliva?"

"Well, I mean, kind of. It obviously does that. I meant…other stuff."

"Your sweat?"

"Cum, Jisung. It makes your cum taste sweet. Supposedly." You decided to be straight forward with it. You cast him a glance to see his reaction. His cheeks were a tinge pink, but he wasn't gaping like you expected, or horribly flushed.

"How would that work?" You rolled your eyes, his thought process was really something else.

"You know, I don't know. I think that's why it’s just like a rumor, it’s not proven." You scratched your cheek.

"We could test it out…" You suggested playfully about half an hour later, after all the pineapple had been eaten.

"Test what out?" He cast you a quick look, before going back to the show. He had rested back onto the couch, his foot up on the cushion, so his knee was at his chest. You were rested against his other side, resting your head on his shoulder, his arm around yours. His big hand was playing with the string of your hoodie, wrapping the braided yarn around his long fingers.

"If pineapple makes you sweeter…" You tried to keep your tone neutral. Jisung immediately paused the TV, pulling back from you to turn and look at you. Forcing yourself to meet his gaze, he seemed more shocked then embarrassed, but his face shifted. You were expecting red to spread over his cheeks, but he smirked instead.

"Might as well." The TV was fully shut off, and he pulled you a bit closer by the shoulders, leaning in and kissing you. You whined a bit at the intensity, normally he was much softer, but it seemed he wanted to eat your lips and tongue, not just taste them. Your next moan allowed his tongue all the way into your mouth, and they wrapped around each other. He did still taste of the fruit, and so did you, but that was more or less to be expected. Your tongues were still a little tingly from the pineapple, and them rubbing over each other made them tingle more. He hummed deeply when you pulled back, lips still slightly touching as you panted for breath.

"Pretty sweet…" His voice rumbled and you mewled. A cocky smirk spread over his pretty face, the confidence taking your breath away.

"Does it just make you sweet, or me too?"

"Uh, I think both?" You answered and he licked his lips, his tongue hitting yours as well with the motion. Jisung wrapped his big hand around yours, enveloping it, and hauling you off the couch, leading you toward your bedroom. You giggled at his eagerness, his long stride making you basically jog to keep up. Your boyfriend's lips fell to yours again as you both helped each other shed your clothes. You were completely bare when he got impatient and led you to the bed, his pants still on, button undone. You were about to question what he was doing when he laid down.

"Sit." He motioned you toward him and his sudden determination floored you. Swallowing, turning pink yourself, you did as he suggested. It was your turn to flush with embarrassment. When you slowly, wobbling, went to straddle his face, he clicked his tongue, whirling his finger.

"Other way." You did as he asked, facing toward the foot of the bed instead. You realized then what he was getting at. Before you full brought yourself down, you leaned over him, fiddling with his pants and boxers to pull his cock out. Everything about him was big, his hands, his feet, his cock. Right as you wrapped your hand around him, his hands flew to your hips and pulled you onto his face. You yelped as his tongue flicked against your clit, then ran up your folds to your core. Gathering your bearings, you leaned forward so you could wrap your lips around the head of his cock, tongue lapping at his precum. Even if the pineapple thing was true, it would probably take more than an hour to kick in. You didn't mind his taste anyway, so you eagerly bobbed your head, taking ask much of his cock in as you could. Your hands wrapped around the base to get the rest, the angle not right for you taking him into your throat more. You whined when his tongue thrusted in and out of your cunt, the vibration on his dick made his hips jump, the head battering the back of your throat. Trying not to gag around him, his thumb joined his tongue to flick your clit and your thighs twitched around his head. At your long, loud moan as you came yourself, the extra sensation buzzed through his cock, and he came as well. You eagerly swallowed his release, and it might have been a placebo effect, by he did taste sweeter. Cleaning off the rest of his cum from his still half-hard dick, he licked his lips, not able to reach all of your release that covered his face. Shakily, you got off of him and turned around so you could straddle him the other way. He was smirking up at you and you cringed at the sheen on his chin and cheeks that you caused.

"I'm sorry, Ji!" You reached to get a tissue from the nightstand to clean his face, but he took care of it, wiping it off with his arm. You two had switched places it seemed, you were now bashfully and shy, and he was smirking with confidence.

"Was I sweet?" His voice rumbled with a chuckle, and you nodded with a small whine.

"Me?"

"You're always sweet, love." You giggled and he brushed a few stray strands of hair from your brow as you sat over him. He adjusted his position, placing his feet on the bed so his knees were bent. You let him lead you so your cunt sat above his re-hardened cock, then he pressed your hips down so you could start to take him. You shivered, your cunt pulsing around his dick as he sank inside. Not only was he thick, but he was long and from the position, it seemed he got all the way into your stomach. You breathed harshly to catch your breath, you had never rode him before. He loved seeing you like that though, face and chest red, eyes closed in focus, mouth parted. With his hands, he helped you grind down onto him, the head of his dick rubbing over your sweet spot.

"Jisung~" Your moan was high pitched, nearly a cry. He would love to watch you fuck yourself on his cock, but you had very little strength left, so he took over. His hips jumped, burying him inside and you yelped with each thrust, only his hands holding you up. You fell forward, landing on his chest, short nails digging slightly into the skin. He huffed in amusement, helping you ride him a bit, but mostly just fucking up into you.

"J-Jisung!" Your cunt fluttered again, already close and he wasn't too surprised, you were quicker to cum the second time then even the first. With another hard thrust, he held you down, grinding into you, getting as deep as possible. The small but intense friction always brought you over the edge and he chuckled as you keened. Even with your vice squeezing around his cock, he held strong, not cumming himself. You were panting, boneless on top of him, so he was gentle in rolling you both over, but didn't pull out. You watched, dazed, as his gazed sharply down at you, easily moving your legs, pressing your knees up by your ears. When he had moved you, your mind finally reconnected and you were about to tell him to wait a sec, but he started to pound into you, the bed frame already rattling from the power. You nearly screamed, each subsequent noise higher and higher till you could barely get anything out, head lolling as your mind fogged over. Jisung's breathing picked up, deep groans and grunts escaping his pretty lips. His pace stuttered and your clit was starting to burn, the overstimulation cresting till the pain faded and you only felt the sharp pleasure again. You had a hard time controlling your breathing, drool pooling at the corner of your mouth, tears pricking your eyes.

"Jisung!" You managed to gasp his name and he groaned.

"Hold on, love." He bit his bottom lip, eyes closed, brow furrowed, and with two more deep thrusts he painting your core white, filling you with heat. You nearly sobbed as your orgasm crested as well, your release spurting from your cunt, mixing with the absurd amount he had pumped into you. As he rested back on his heels, panting, you flopped like a ragdoll, eyes glazed over. Jisung brought his thumb to your swollen clit, flicking it, making you twitch hard. He licked the slick from the digit, smiling softly, "so sweet."

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[neptuneiris]

for the crown (02/03)

and then suddenly i cared even less, too broken to stay.

pairing: prince!aemond × lowborn!reader

summary: you gave yourself to him, you love him, he said that despite your low status at court, he will still marry you, because you are his, the woman who was his friend since childhood, until the war comes.

word count: 8.6k

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and here I am again, realizing that I can't anticipate that it will be two parts only, because if I leave it at two, the chapter will be extremely long, so there will be part 3 haha. thank you for reading, enjoy!🥰

warnings: sex content, angst, denigration, abusive behavior, possessiveness, infidelity, betrayal.

If Aemond thought he would have a perfect escape with you after he decided to take you with him to Harrenhal as well, he was wrong.

With only a few dresses, a few pairs of shoes and your night gown, you emerge from your chamber holding Aemond's hand, both of you having a firm grip on each other, ready to march to DragonPit and eventually fly to Harrenhal.

With the entire Prince Regent's army ready to listen to Sr. Criston Cole's command upon seeing Aemond's signal in the skies, your prince is interrupted in the middle of his action as he is basically stealing you away by his mother, his grandsire and also your father right at the gates to leave the Keep.

Your father watches you completely surprised, ready and willing to leave with the prince, while the Queen Dowager and Otto Hightower watch Aemond completely confused and alert.

Also both watching you basically not understanding anything.

"Aemond, what is the meaning of this?"

"What are you doing?"

His mother and grandsire instantly inquire, clearly disapproving of this madness, but Aemond couldn't care less, watching the three of them indifferently.

While you start to worry and basically hide behind him, not letting go of his hand.

"Y/N?"

Your father calls you softly, confused and uncomprehending, looking for your gaze.

But when you look back at him, he knows you've already made your choice, so he begins to get more alert and seriously worried.

"What are you doing?"

But you don't answer him, you can't.

Sorrowful, you seek more reassurance and support from Aemond, basically leaning closer to him, holding his hand a little tighter, revealing your nerves and your fear at having been discovered.

This Aemond notices instantly and stands in front of you with a determined and firm stance without letting go of your hand, facing this alone knowing that none of the three of them stand a chance against him.

"Y/N, come, please," your father pleads as he sees worried the prince's behavior, raising one of his hands in your direction.

"She will do no such thing, my Lord."

Aemond finally speaks, drawing the attention of the three of them as well as yours, watching him over his shoulder,

"Lady Y/N will come with me to Harrenhal. In fact we must leave now and this is not up for discussion," he makes it clear almost threateningly.

Your father immediately exchanges glances with the Queen, more than concerned and demanding that something be done about it, but the Queen Dowager also continues to stare at her son completely confused and as if she does not recognize him.

"Aemond, you can't do this," she tells him gently wanting to talk some sense into him.

"Have you forgotten about your betrothed? Lady Baratheon?" his grandsire inquires him seriously, "Her father is fully supporting you in this because of that betrothal. And when Lord Borros finds out you are enjoying the company of another woman he will not be very pleased and will call off his men."

"And that won't be very wise of him," he says completely disinterested, "It would be unwise for Lord Borros to no longer give me his support if he doesn't want all of Storm's End to burn."

"That's not how things work, Aemond," his mother tells him worriedly, watching him intently.

"I think that's exactly how things work, mother," he tells her in a more serious tone, "After all, I'm not breaking off the betrothal and eventually I'll have to marry his daughter or not?"

This immediately gets your attention, but right after Aemond says those words, he lightly squeezes your hand with his, as a signal.

He has told you that when the war is over, he will marry you and that he promised you. He's not meaning all this now, it's just a way for the two of you to finally leave.

"Aemond, you still can't do this, you're betrothed," she insists.

"And what about Lady Y/N?" his grandsire points out to him, "According to the news, she is also betrothed."

"I don't care. She's coming with me whether you like it or not," he says as a final word.

"My prince…"

Hour father quickly steps forward to speak, worried and almost anguished.

"I beg you not to do this, you cannot take her away, please," he begs, "Lord Hand is right, she is also betrothed. If you take her now her betrothed will not be pleased and will put her maidenhead in question. Because of this my daughter will probably not be able to find a good husband in the future."

His words and behavior makes you feel sorry for your father, as he is right. Basically Aemond will ruin you for all men by taking you away, that action already speaking for itself, as the two of you share a more intimate relationship.

What your father and his family don't know is that he has basically already ruined you by claiming your maidenhead. But of course neither Aemond nor you will say it out loud.

"Don't worry, my Lord," he tells him still disinterested, "I'm sure by the end of all this, you and I will come to a generous agreement for my indiscretion."

Still, this does not reassure your father at all.

"B-but, please my prince, you c-can't…" he begins to speak nervously, looking at you pleadingly, "You can't take her away, please. I have already come to an agreement with her betrothed, they'll be waiting for her to discuss the wedding, please—

"I've told you not to worry, Lord Y/L/N," Aemond tells him again seriously and annoyed.

"But…

"You dare to question your prince's order?"

Aemond inquires him instantly, watching him serious, threatening and expectant, while your father purses his lips into a thin line as Aemond continues to threaten him with his gaze, then looks at his mother and grandsire in the same manner.

"You are also against my own word?"

"Aemond, please," his mother pleads with him as well.

"Don't be a fool, Aemond. Enough of this nonsense," his grandsire tells him seriously, "You are making a big mistake that will cost you the battle if you lose soldiers."

"That will be my problem, not yours," he tells her in the same manner as he does, ready to resume his journey again, "Besides we are not going to lose anything and I advise you not to question me anymore, any of the three of you," he warns them.

These are the final words of Prince Aemond, the Prince Regent, the one who currently holds the crown and carries the weight of the entire Realm on his shoulders, with his other hand he takes your waist and begins to lead the two of you on your way out of the Keep.

The only thing you can feel at that moment as you walk away is the worried and anguished look on your father's face, while you feel sorry for him.

However, you don't want to marry this Lord Beesbury, you don't even know him and you know that your father blindly gave your hand in marriage.

But what you didn't expect is that you would have to walk away from your father, leaving him alone, when it has always been the two of you against the world, which is what really weighs on you and grieves you as you continue to walk away from him with no idea when you will see him again.

You also feel the stares of the Queen Dowager Alicent and Lord Otto on both of you, who probably don't even have any idea how to react to this, not even being in a position to do anything about it.

But Aemond doesn't even care about them and steadily and willingly continues his pace with you by his side, him leading you towards one of the horses that will take you both fast towards DragonPit.

Soon you both find yourselves flying towards Harrenhal, with Sr. Criston leading Aemond's entire army on the ground towards the cursed castle as well.

However… had you known what would await you later in that very place, a cursed castle where its curse never leaves and curses also the people who dare to set foot there, you would never have let Aemond take you with him.

Still, when your prince takes you with him to Harrenhal, you feel important.

You feel you are one of his complements to go on and win the war, like an incentive to gain motivation and strength.

At first, the black and dark castle scares you, knowing perfectly well its reputation and curse, but Aemond is the one who motivates you to stand by his side and help him in everything he needs.

He specifically asks you to settle in his chamber, where it will also be your room, while he once he takes over the castle, begins to plan strategies and move his entire army, alert to any threat and securing his position in Harrenhal.

You know very little about his planning because you know that his matters must be of no interest to you, so during the day, you can only find entertainment in books and learning a little more about the dark castle.

The only thing you attend to is your prince, waiting each night at the end of his exhausting days, as you can't really do much in these circumstances, only being available to him.

This fact does not bother you, but your boredom increases every day considering that you only see Aemond in the nights and very early the next day he is no longer by your side because he goes to attend to his duties.

In your loneliness, you often think about writing a letter to your father, just to let him know that you are well.

But you know that Aemond probably wouldn't be too pleased and you don't know if your father wants to hear from you after what happened.

You wouldn't be surprised if he was furious with you… after all, what you did was very unwise.

You could have stood firm with Aemond, you could have supported your father and attended to your duty properly, yet you did not.

And in the end the only thing that gives you comfort is that at least, by the end of these difficult times, you will finally marry Aemond. And by the time your father sees that, he will probably forgive you.

Today is another one of those days when Aemond has a lot on his mind, taking his position very seriously and getting frustrated when one thing doesn't turn out the way he expected.

It's a lot to handle even though he has Sr. Criston by his side, but that doesn't seem to be enough.

He constantly sends reports to Kings Landing with his position and what is currently happening, understanding that even though Aegon is injured, still his brother wants to be aware of everything, considering he is not at the Keep to protect them in case of anything.

There are countless times when Aemond does not rest properly as he has so much to think and do. And when he finally heads to his chamber almost at the Hour of the Wolf, you help him to get all that stress out of his system.

Aemond lets out a sigh as he lets his head fit all the way back, with his eye closed, as you begin to slowly move up and down his entire hard, heavy, swollen length, in need of release.

You moan and place your hands on his bare, firm chest for support, beginning to move your hips up and down in a more consistent pace, moving back and forth and even circling at times.

Aemond at all times lets you take control, which normally it is not usual for you to do as he prefers it to be him in charge, however this is another one of those nights where he is too tired not to let you ride him.

You groan and begin to move your hips faster and harder, as Aemond moans low and holds your waist firmly, watching as your bodies come together and as all of him repeatedly enters you.

You watch him in complete delight, his beautiful face contracted in pleasure, his brows furrowed and his lips parted, sighing and leaving marks on your skin with his long fingers.

You smile and lean fully into him, still moving, as you bring one of your hands to his hair, stroking it gently, and then bring your lips to his ear.

"Do you like it, my King?"

This only fills Aemond more with pleasure, who grunts and makes you increase the speed of your movements, as you moan loudly and feel him deliciously also ground on his feet and penetrate you harder.

The sound of skin on skin, your juices with his sweat and now Aemond claiming one of your breasts as he takes the nipple into his mouth, only makes you moan more in pleasure.

"Oh yes, my King. Just like that, please."

You whine, moaning and leaning further into him.

"Oh fuck—yes," he murmurs into your breasts, kneading them completely to his liking, "Yes, my Lady. Oh Gods."

You sigh and moan louder when Aemond suddenly takes all your hair in one of his hands, making it into a fist, to forcefully pull you down as he raises his hips in a firm upward motion, penetrating you hard and hitting exactly your nerve core.

All the air escapes your lungs and that explosion inside you begins to grow as Aemond penetrates you in that steadier way, not letting go of your hair, holding you tight.

"Are you going to cum?" he asks you in a deep husky voice.

"Yes," you moan, "Oh—fuck," you whimper.

"Cum, cum all on my cock, my sweet girl."

Then you are no longer thinking straight and become completely absorbed in the moment as he brings one of his hands between your bodies and begins to stroke his thumb over your most sensitive spot, causing you to close your eyes tightly, arch your back and continue to move with more fervor.

"Yes, yes, just like that," you moan, "Please, don't stop."

"Look at you," he grins, "Making a mess."

"Please, my King."

He grunts and increases his speed more as he again begins to suck on one of your nipples and then everything about you explodes in a delicious and more than satisfied way as Aemond fucks you hard across your peak, seeking his own release.

And by the end of the night, with one hard, strong, final thrust, he spills all of his seed inside you, filling you completely.

You let yourself fall completely on top of him, just as exhausted and breathing fast, catching your breath, as Aemond continues all soft and warm inside you.

You relax your lips and lazily raise your gaze to him, while still remaining on top of his hard, strong body, to see him also catching his breath, calming his heart rate and looking so tired.

You leave a soft kiss on his lips and move off on top of him to lie down next to him.

As every night, Aemond pulls your body to him and hugs your back as the two of you begin to be carried away by sleep, both of you more than satisfied, especially him after so much pressure and stress.

This is the way you can help him and be there for him. Honestly you don't complain, because as each time Aemond takes you, everything becomes more and more intense, already being more of a necessity.

Even during the day, one of his guards seeks you out and lets you know that the prince has requested your presence immediately in the room where Aemond plans his strategies and has meetings with all his advisors.

Arriving there, you expected anything but Aemond needing to fuck you right there in his chair and where it is a public place, even though only he and you is here.

"Try not to make too much noise, my love."

That's all he says to you and then makes you start riding him again, while you hold on and lean on his shoulders, moaning into his neck, while he listens to the sounds you make only for him and continues to demand that you move faster, harder and deeper.

You let your whole head fall back, closing your eyes in pleasure and you part your lips, as Aemond attacks and leaves marks all over your neck, grunting and holding you as if his life depended on it.

You move deep from front to back and he moans into your neck.

"Oh fuck—just like that, don't stop," he tells you hoarsely.

You gasp and muffle your moans as he desperately makes your breasts spring free through the collar of your dress and attacks them like a hungry man, as he brings both hands to the soft skin of your ass, kneading both your cheeks.

You cry out from the pleasure and continue to move deep from front to back.

"Yes, Aemond, yes," you moan.

"Always so responsive," he murmurs with delight.

He gazes proudly at your hard nipples, slightly red and swollen from his caresses, as he brings his hand to your center and strokes you with his thumb firmly, feeling all your juices sliding down his fingers.

"You like it, don't you?" he watches you with a grin, "You like it when I fuck you hard."

"Yes," you say as best you can, in a whisper.

He grunts and stops your movements abruptly to suddenly charge you and rise from his chair, as he sits you on the edge of the big table in front of him where the maps perch and begins to penetrate you faster and harder.

That time you had to drink moon tea again, considering that the dragon seed is strong and Aemond insists that always after every act, you must drink it, not even being able to let yourself forget it.

So the days go by when the unexpected news arrives about the battle of Lakeshore, where Aemond loses numerous men, all from the Lannister army, where they were attacked by a Northern army, being a major loss for the Greens and a victorious battle for the Blacks.

Aemond, furious, orders the death of Simon Strong and his entire family, as well as nearly killing the soldier who told him the news, blinded by his own anger and madness.

While you confined to your room, you can only wait for him to return to you when he has taken care of the whole matter, but with that great loss, Aemond and everyone begins to realize that they are losing the war.

If before Aemond didn't sleep and rest properly, with this news he doesn't anymore, to which you can only continue to wait, worried about him but unable to truly do anything, spending days in which you don't see Aemond anymore.

Until one night, the unexpected news arrives, but this time only for you.

"Where is Prince Aemond, Ellya?" you ask the maid who has been at your disposal since you arrived here, "Have you seen him? Do you know what he is doing with his men?"

She gives you a somewhat wary and curious look at the same time.

"You haven't heard, my Lady?"

This immediately catches your attention and you watch her completely attentively.

"About what?"

She blinks a couple of times, watching you a little surprised, to which this draws your attention more and alerts you, watching her intrigued, while she looks hesitant for a few moments, not quite sure if she is the one to tell you the new news.

"Ellya, what's wrong?" you urge her, beginning to worry.

She swallows hard, lets out a long breath and looks at you with some pity.

"The prince has approached the witch, the witch of Harrenhal," she lets you know, "For days now it seems the two of them started having their meetings."

You watch her more than attentively and confused at the same time, having no idea who this witch is, but instantly getting a bad feeling about the whole thing. You ask Ellya to explain who she is and she tells you everything.

Alys Rivers.

That's her name and apparently she's a bastard of Lyonel Strong, the once lord of Harrenhal who burned to death along with his son right here in this castle.

When you then remember… she is that same woman that Aemond did not give the order to kill and apparently spared her life when he killed Simon Strong and all his kin.

Instantly your assumptions are correct when Ellya tells you that this woman possesses dark magic and those kinds of abilities through witchcraft. And again you don't get that good feeling if Aemond has searched for her and is apparently having meetings with her.

Certainly after knowing this, you can't ask Aemond anything about it since you don't see him and don't dare go looking for him with all the duties he has to attend to.

However, the uncertainty lingers and all the time you think about it, feeling worried just imagining Aemond having encounters with her and also scared about what she might do.

Until one night finally the opportunity presents itself when you see the night through the small windows in comparison to the Keep, unable to fall asleep, when the doors open and you turn to see Aemond enter the chamber after so many days.

"Aemond?"

You call out to him in your soft, sleepy voice from trying to fall asleep but you simply can't, thinking all the while of him and her, the witch, as he watches you without at all expecting to hear your voice.

And even though you shouldn't, at that moment you feel sorry for him. You can tell he hasn't slept well in days, his whole face shows it to you, the extreme tiredness reflecting through his body as well, truly worrying you.

And that's why he actually watches you without having any expression on his face, leaving his sword on one of the tables and starting to take off his belts, preparing to sleep.

"Keep sleeping. I'll join you in a moment," he tells you just the same without much emotion in his voice.

"Where have you been?" you still ask him, carving your eyes, watching him closely, "I haven't seen you in days."

He lets out a long breath, turning his back on you and continuing to remove his clothes.

"Are you forgetting that we are at war?" he asks, "What do you mean, where have I been? Of course I have been leading all my men and attending to my duties as Protector of the Realm."

You press your lips together, instantly understanding that you must not upset and irritate him any more than he clearly already is. Still, like the stubborn one you are, you can't help yourself and again speak in his direction.

"I know, Aemond," you say softly, "But that's not what I meant. I meant that you didn't come here to sleep."

"I barely have time to sleep, Y/N," he tells you definitely more serious, alerting you, "And now that I finally have the chance, you're not letting me have my five minutes of peace," he tells you bitterly.

"No, Aemond, I swear that's not my intention," you instantly clarify, concerned.

"Then?" he looks over his shoulder at you, serious and clearly irritated, "You're going to let me be able to undress and sleep in peace?"

"Yes, of course," you tell him instantly, bewildered, "I-I just wanted…" you bite your lips, nervous, "…to know where you'd been," you mumble barely audibly.

And even though Aemond has heard you, he still doesn't say anything else, still taking off his clothes and with every movement feeling more tiredness all over his body, urgently needing to lie down on the bed and sleep as much as he can.

But you continue to watch him more attentively than before, Alys Rivers not leaving your thoughts and what he has talked or has been doing with her, that precisely not leaving you alone.

So in the middle of the silence, you dare to ask him in a soft murmur, watching him carefully.

"You were with Alys Rivers?"

Then suddenly Aemond stops his movements abruptly, slowly turning his head towards your direction, but only a part of it, barely managing to watch you over his shoulder, the tension in his whole body being more than visible.

When without further ado he resumes his movements, saying absolutely nothing to you and turning his back to you, while you continue to watch him attentively and expectantly for his response, whatever it may be.

And it is not until Aemond finishes processing your question that he finally answers you or rather answers you with another question in a serious and cold voice.

"Who told you that?"

You swallow hard, truly not wanting to give Ellya away.

"I heard it."

"From who? Where?"

He demands to know, more serious and annoyed, turning fully towards you. That's when you see his dark face, clearly annoyed, you stare at him bewildered, really not understanding his behavior.

"What's wrong? Why didn't you want me to know?"

At this he continues to stare at you annoyed, his lips pressed into a thin line and clearly irritated by your questioning, while you, starting to feel fearful, still continue to stare at him with your whole face soft but in confusion.

Aemond lets a few seconds pass, when he averts his gaze from yours for a moment as he licks his lips and finally lets out a long breath to turn his back on you again.

He reassures himself, having already taken into account from before that it would be impossible for you not to hear the name of the witch of Harrenhal and also how he would find himself in her company at times.

However, in a way I had hoped that you wouldn't find out and wouldn't question anything about it.

But with everything going on, him losing the war and resorting to desperate measures, there is basically no such thing as his patience and good humor.

"She's helping me with some war matters, nothing else."

He tells you coldly as you watch him and listen completely attentively, not understanding his answer.

"War matters?" you repeat.

"Yes, war matters," he repeats back to you as well, serious.

"And it's not something I can help you with?" you ask him without understanding.

He lets out a long sigh again this time, his patience again beginning to hang by a thread.

"No Y/N, you don't know all of Riverlands and the most convenient spots where I can send and command my men," he tells you serious, "Nor do you know the secret paths and where they might attack us by surprise, but she does."

At this you remain completely silent, watching him with your lips parted, thinking about his words.

This really continues to give you a very bad feeling, frustrating you because even though he has explained, you still don't feel convinced and can't do anything about it, not wanting to bother him anymore.

But it strikes you how he has been annoyed that you have asked him about her, that you have talked about her, so bringing up the matter again would not be smart on your part.

Still, you can't stay quiet.

"Nothing else?"

"Yes, nothing else," he tells you quickly and still in his serious tone.

You don't say anything else, watching him attentively, while he remains completely naked in front of you, as he usually likes to sleep. And still not feeling convinced, you decide not to bother him anymore and return to your same position as before to be lucky enough to sleep this time.

But you can't.

You continue watching the void, when you feel Aemond's weight sinking on the bed next to you, while you turn your back to him and think about his words, also about the witch and the two of them.

You press your lips together and finally close your eyes, needing to sleep to stop thinking.

However, this one night Aemond doesn't even come close towards you. Normally he always wraps one of his arms around your body and pulls you close to his body to sleep close, but nothing, he doesn't do anything.

And the next morning you wake up, he is gone.

Your days again pass without seeing Aemond, always being in your chamber and barely getting any news about what is going on with your prince and his side of the war.

At least you find comfort in your maidservants, with whom you talk and give you some company.

You also wander around the castle only a little during the day, not lasting long for fear that Aemond might find out and get annoyed with you not having any guards with you. But considering you don't have much to do, this comforts you as well.

When one day, the whispers in the cursed castle become too loud and rumors reach your ears: your prince is sharing a bed with the witch of Harrenhal.

This shocking and devastating news you don't want to believe, thinking that it is simply impossible because Aemond is yours, just as you are his. Or so you thought.

But even though you try to convince yourself that Aemond wouldn't do such a thing to you, betray you with another woman, let alone a witch, sadly it all starts to make sense to you.

He hadn't gone to sleep in his chamber, you also chambered, basically you didn't see him at all. And even though he told you he barely has time to sleep, he still must have… but not in the room you both share.

You really don't want to believe it, especially since he told you himself that she's only been helping him with war matters, nothing else.

But you knew all along that he wasn't being honest with you, you had that intuition and these rumors just confirmed it.

It is not until you see Aemond again after severe days without him being in your presence that you can finally confront him about it.

"You lied to me, didn't you?"

You ask him with your soft tone but sad at the same time, disappointed, with tears wanting to start coming out of your eyes when he watches you and he doesn't even need to ask you what you mean, because he instantly knows.

But it hurts you more when he lets out a long breath, it being another one of those times where you both barely see each other and he's already upset and annoyed by your behavior.

"See? This is why I didn't tell you, because of how you react," he tells you serious and watching you badly, tired.

"So you were planning to never tell me?" you ask sadly.

"You don't understand Y/N. You don't understand anything."

You look at him hurt.

"And how am I supposed to understand if you don't talk to me?" you ask confused, "Is this why you decided to bring me here with you? For me to stand here waiting for you while you enjoy the company of another woman?"

He lets out a huff as he rolls his eye in annoyance.

"You're getting it all wrong," he tells you serious, "I'm not doing it for my own satisfaction, I'm doing it because it's necessary and in order to win the war."

You continue watching him confused, not understanding what he is referring to or rather not understanding what that has to do with lying with her, to which Aemond, frustrated, explains to you in order to end this matter once and for all.

"Alys… she can see things, she knows things" he tells you, "Her power helps me to know what will happen next and what exactly I must do against the threats, what strategies to plan in order not to lose more of my men and thus win the war."

"And for that you must sleep with her?" you ask in pain.

"Getting that kind of information is not easy, Y/N," he tells you absurdly, "Of course she must have asked me for something in return and that is her form of payment."

You deny with your head, still watching him confused.

"But you don't necessarily have to pay her that way. You are the prince, she must obey you and in return for that… you can offer her gold or something else."

Crees que eso no fue lo mismo que yo pensé en ofrecerle?

"Do you think that wasn't the same thing I thought of offering her?" he inquires you annoyed, "Of course I did but she give me nothing."

And yet he decided to give her exactly what she wanted.

Your mind tells you, as you continue to watch him intently and pained, as he turns his back to you and you see him starting to take off his belts at the same time you feel that sharp pain in your chest, thinking about all the weeks he had been keeping this from you.

And when you asked him, he still lied to you.

"But…" you try to say, watching him sadly, "I'm sure you don't need her, Aemond."

He lets out a derisive, dry snort, shaking his head slightly, this hurting you instantly as well, but you continue to insist on changing his mind so that he doesn't have to do this… win the war through witchcraft.

"There are other ways that I know are more complicated and time consuming, but you can win and fairly, I know that," you observe him hopefully.

He laughs unfunnily, low and bitterly, as he turns to you again and looks at you as if you were a fool.

"How easy it is to talk when you're not the one serving the Realm and losing a war, isn't it?"

You watch him completely speechless, while he takes a couple of steps towards you watching you even in that way and completely upset and annoyed because you don't understand him.

You don't understand anything of what is happening and what he must be doing.

"What are you doing here besides warming my bed, hmm?"

He inquires you with a cruel tone, his words instantly being a dagger to your heart.

"Yes, it's true, I was the one who decided to bring you here with me and I made you a promise for the end of all this, didn't I?"

He asks you seriously and expectantly.

"But now the least you can do is to understand me and give me peace, whether you like what I have to do or not," he makes it clear in a threatening tone, "And what I must do now Y/N, for the good of the Realm and to secure my brother's Throne, is to keep Alys on my side because I need her and I need her very much."

This last is completely etched in your mind, watching it attentively, your lips half open and the first tear falling down your cheek, under the attentive and annoying gaze of Aemond, who in spite of this does not care and turns away to continue undressing.

Then the other tears run down both of your cheeks, feeling more intense that sharp pain in your chest, hurting you completely by his insensitivity and how even though you know he is sleeping with another woman, he still doesn't care about you.

When has Aemond ever needed you the way he has told you he needs her?

Never.

You thought that bringing you here with him was his way of telling you that he needs you, but now that you have to share him with another woman and he apparently doesn't care about your feelings, you think it was all a bad idea.

You swallow the tight lump in your throat and clear your tears as you avoid completely breaking down by being in the same place as him.

"Perhaps I should go back to King's Landing," you say amidst the silence and tense atmosphere, avoiding hearing yourself as broken as you really are, "Perhaps I should talk to my father, apologize and do my duty by getting married."

Again Aemond lets out an unfunny and completely incredulous laugh, again turning to watch you but with the difference that he is actually watching you slightly amused and expectantly at the same time.

"Don't tell me, Y/N."

He watches you intently.

"And who are you going to marry, hmm? Or rather who or who will want to marry you?"

He asks you still amused.

"Haven't you thought that I've already ruined you for any other man by the simple fact of having brought you here with me? Haven't you thought that with that alone people can assume an intimate relationship between the two of us? Although it's not really an assumption, it's a fact, isn't it? For a long time now."

Tears again steadily stream down your cheeks, watching him with all the pain in your gaze, as he again averts his gaze from yours and again shakes his head in disbelief.

And you know he's right.

But you don't think it's fair that he can get annoyed with you when you call the attention of other men, but you are in a much worse position, he doesn't care how you feel because he is the man, he is the prince and you must understand him.

So it doesn't matter that he can have as many women as he wants at his disposal, in any way, while you should be reserved only for him.

"Stop crying," he tells you cold and serious, without looking at you, "If you feel so bad for Alys, understand that this is just for the moment, it will all be over when I win the war, so stop this foolishness."

And there it is again… his insensitivity.

And after that… everything changes.

That night Aemond again doesn't try to touch you or hug you during his sleep, nor is it as if you would want him to, considering that he had probably been in her company before.

That is why now knowing that Aemond warms her bed, you no longer desire his touch or even his presence.

And not only because of that, but also because of the way he had made you feel with his cruel behavior and with his cruel words, and that painful feeling just won't go away, not even him realizing how much he did and does hurt you.

Fortunately you continue not seeing him very often, in all that time just locked in your chamber, not even having the courage to talk and enjoy the company of the maids as usual, wanting to be alone all the time, going back to your days of having no appetite and no mood for anything.

If Aemond notices, he doesn't say anything to you or do anything about it, just watches you intently every time he appears in the chamber, where you just greet him and nothing else, not really giving him attention like before, your whole gaze dull, empty, disinterested and sad.

You can smell a strong scent, like citrus and a bit sweet at the same time on his clothes sometimes when he comes to the chamber very late at night, certainly belonging to her and of course he must not even notice it.

And not only that, cautiously you can see some marks on his neck and chest as he begins to undress, to which you lie on the bed with your back to him and completely covering yourself with the sheets, letting a few tears fall without him seeing you and without making a sound until you fall asleep.

Now all you think of when you see him is him in the company of his witch, receiving everything she offers him, her visions and letting him know everything he wants to know, in exchange for sleeping with her.

It is not until days later that he slowly begins to approach you again to caress and touch you.

At first you didn't let him turn your back to him and he started to caress you by putting his arm across your stomach, trying to pull you closer to him.

But when you stayed completely still and with your eyes full of tears, he felt the tension all over your body and at the end he let out a long sigh and stopped touching you, resigning himself.

You didn't understand why he needed that from you when he certainly always gets that from her.

That went on for a few more weeks, until Aemond was beginning to lose patience with not being able to have you that he finally lost it completely.

And you had to give in to pleasing him, letting him make you his after a considerable time. However, he was no longer making you feel anything.

Just the thought that he had previously been inside her and now he's inside you looking like he can't get enough… it was too much.

Aemond doesn't notice your lack of disinterest as he begins to fuck you, nor does he notice how your heart breaks into pieces. And it's not until you stop being responsive to his touch that he's finally disconcerted.

Without feeling your juices that made penetration easier, he gasps and lifts his gaze to you, peeling his face from your neck, watching you intently and curiously, still entering you continuously.

"What is it, my lady? Doesn't it feel good?"

You don't answer.

You don't even look him in the eye.

At this, Aemond kisses you with need, moving in and out of you faster, needing your response, for you to feel the same as he does, as before.

But it doesn't feel good, not good at all.

After that night, unable to stand being cooped up in your chamber any longer for the whole day, you decide to go out into the hallways and eventually end up in the kitchens to offer your hands to the maids for whatever it is they need.

You can't even stand your loneliness anymore, so you finally enjoy the company of the maids and help out as needed, even taking your meals with them and even returning at night to the chamber, almost at the same time as Aemond.

Surprisingly, he notices this and questions you about doing maid duties as well, telling you that you have no need, to which you without much emotion tell him that it's all right, that you like to help, not to say anything else to him and clearly not to give more importance to the matter.

In those moments is when he starts to get tired of your behavior, when the truth is that even he doesn't understand himself.

Before it bothered him that you cared too much about him and that you questioned absolutely everything, but now that you have stopped doing it, it also bothers him your lack of interest in him when before you were always there at his disposal, also bothering him your cold behavior.

But it bothers him more that you don't even respond to him anymore when he makes you his.

However, he knows he can't blame you for her, for Alys, because you know what he is doing with her in the darkness of her chamber in exchange for what.

But it still bothers him.

Fortunately for you, he decides to give you time and not force you into anything again if you don't want him to, to which you could only feel relieved, although you still have to endure how he hugs you during his sleep but nothing more.

It is not until one night that you return to your chamber later than usual, since you lost track of time and were all the time in the company of the maids, that you think that Aemond must probably still be attending to his duties or that he must already be asleep… or that he must be in the company of his witch.

The latter is what you believe the most, not surprisingly. In the end, however, it does surprise you.

About to open the door to your room, you don't have to, as it opens on the other side and you find yourself face to face with a woman with pale skin, huge green eyes, long black hair and wearing a robe around her body, holding it with one of her hands.

Your eyes widen and you freeze completely, as she stares back at you with such intensity that it almost brings you to tears, but in the end it is not that, but the realization of what has happened here, in your chamber, which is in fact more yours than Aemond's.

You then watch behind her, where Aemond instantly watches you with an expression you can't really read, as he finishes buttoning his belt, with his entire torso naked and the clear marks on his neck.

Again… you feel that sharp pain in your chest, the sadness and humiliation hitting you hard, with your tears starting to want to spill out of your eyes and run down your cheeks, watching him with the most hurt look of all.

How could he dare?

You don't even expect anything else, you just run away from there, tears streaming down your cheeks instantly, as you hear Aemond say your name, quickly coming after you.

But you don't look back, not even wanting to look him in the eye, having no idea where you're really heading, but not in your greatest madness are you ever going to lie in that bed again, not even he having any respect for you in that regard.

Still Aemond is quicker and manages to catch up to you, grabbing you hard by your arm, demanding you to stop and watch him, pulling you closer to his body, to which you put up resistance and crying you try with all your might to get him to let go of you to get away from him, but he won't let you.

"Y/N! Look at me!"

You can't.

You don't want to.

He irritated, grabs you firmly with both hands, reluctantly stopping you, while you continue to cry and feel completely weak, everything about him, his grip on you when he had touched her on your bed before and that scent of hers also impregnated in him… it's too much.

"Let go of me."

You say pleadingly, sobbing, trying to pull away from him.

"Stop fucking acting like this!" he exclaims to you in annoyance.

You deny with your head.

"H-how could you?"

"Look at me," he demands.

"No! Let go of me!" you resist again, very hurt and very humiliated.

"I said look at me!"

He exclaims to you angrily, grabbing your face with both of his hands and making you look at him in a firm and demanding manner, his grip strong.

At this you stand completely still, but still crying and sobbing, trying to control yourself, but you cannot.

Thinking about it, about her and him already hurt you enough, but now having seen it… you can't stand it, as well as his touch now on you, finding it unpleasant.

And when you finally open your eyes and dare to look at him again, he is worried about noticing all that pain, rejection and displeasure.

However, he doesn't allow it and continues to hold you in that firm manner.

"Listen to me," he says seriously and firmly, "This was the last time, the last one."

You put up a resistance again, not believing his words at all, looking absurd in the midst of all your pain.

"Y/N!" he exclaims stopping you again, looking at you as honestly as possible, " It has been the last time, truly," he insists, "I promise."

You say nothing to him, just continue to cry almost silently, as he promises and assures you over and over again, wanting to reassure you, when the truth is you don't even believe him, so you make him believe that you do, to which he finally lets go of you.

"Go back to the chamber and wait there for me, she's gone," he tells you softly, but still firm and demanding.

And you are surprised how he dares in ordering you such a thing, while you just nod so you can finally get away from him and feeling relieved you do so, definitely not going back to that room, at all.

You find another empty chamber where you lie down on the bed right there and continue to let the tears flow freely from your eyes, trying to calm down little by little, feeling so lonely, so silly and as if you mean nothing.

It is not until after Aemond finishes talking to Alys and returns to the chamber expecting to find you there, but nothing.

He lets out a long breath, frustrated, only to later ask his guards where you've gone to find you in another chamber, completely balled up, asleep and with dried tears on your cheeks, your whole face suffering.

He lets out another long breath, running a hand through his face and hair, shuffling it in frustration, that he decides not to do anything else, just leave you alone to sleep, that being the least he can do for you after witnessing such a thing taking advantage of your absence.

Severe days has passed since that breaking point between you and Aemond, where neither of you have spoken about it.

He tried, of course, to explain to you so that he could properly ask for your forgiveness, but you never let him, not wanting or needing to hear anything from him, still too hurt and too humiliated to bear such thing.

Since then, you now sleep in that new chamber, this not being to Aemond's liking at first.

But acting so cold to him, not even being able to look him in the eye when he spoke to you and making you so tense in his presence, he understood that he could not force you to sleep with him if you did not wish to do so.

Aemond hated every moment when he did not wake up with you by his side, also when he could not touch you and make you his, or have the maids assist him in absolutely everything, when before it was only you.

If he kept his promise not to have any more meetings with Alys, you were no longer interested in knowing, only focusing on you and sometimes on him when he asked you for something, but always with that cold and indifferent behavior.

When the time of battle comes again.

He and his entire army prepares to march to a point where Alys had told him before that it would be where an army fighting for his half-sister would be and that is approaching Harrenhal.

Aemond awaits the return of Sr. Criston with a small but efficient army that he prepared for him by sending him and those men to the nearest house settlements of Harrenhal to demand that they bend the knee for his brother Aegon.

Once he returns with those men, they can finish preparing and stop that army of Rhaenyra's, having him more opportunity to protect his entire army from the skies and burn as much as he can.

You along with some maids provide food to the men who will go to battle, you also help with their supplies, walking back and forth under the watchful eye of Aemond being so helpful to his men, this not pleasing him but not being able to do anything about it either.

When an ambush happens.

Everything happens too fast, as suddenly a not very big army surrounds all of Aemond's surprisingly with black flags, symbol of Rhaenyra.

And then a man grabs you by force, takes you to the center of the whole ambush and then puts a dagger in your neck.

[rainandandy]

modern au, college student!rain x reader🫣🫣🫣

Thank you so much for the request! Since it was left pretty open I just went on a big angst role! I hope you like it. Also my requests for Alien Romulus and Rain Carradine (and most of Cailee Spaeny's roles) are open Thanks for reading! ❤️

Warnings: Friends with Benefits, Angst, Kind of a break up

Word Count: 1396

Pairings: Rain Carradine X Fem! Reader

Modern College AU Friends with Benefits

The clock blinked 2:47 AM in the dimly lit room. You were tangled up in the sheets, your back pressed against the cool wall, staring at the ceiling as if it held the answers to the questions you didn’t even want to ask. Rain was beside you, her body sprawled out on the bed, the moonlight filtering through the blinds casting sharp shadows across her features. Her short, dark hair was tousled, the strands catching the faint light and making her look almost ethereal. Those piercing blue eyes were closed, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to just look at her, to take in the softness of her features when she wasn’t aware you were watching.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You had told yourself from the beginning that this was just a casual thing, no strings attached, just two people finding comfort in each other’s company in a way that didn’t demand anything more than what you both were willing to give. But somewhere along the way, you had started wanting more, and that was the problem.

Rain stirred beside you, her arm instinctively reaching out across the bed, fingers brushing against your thigh. Even in sleep, she was possessive, her presence a constant reminder that while she didn’t want to define what you had, she still wanted to keep you close. You sighed softly, careful not to wake her as you slid out from under her touch and out of bed. The floor was cold against your feet as you padded across the room to the window, pulling the blinds further apart to let more of the night in.

“Can’t sleep?” Rain’s voice was rough, still thick with sleep as she propped herself up on one elbow, those blue eyes now open and trained on you. She didn’t miss much, even half-asleep. That was one of the things that drew you to her, even if it made things harder.

“Just thinking,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Rain pushed herself up to sit, the sheets pooling around her waist as she studied you with a gaze that felt too intense for the middle of the night. “Thinking about what?” she asked, but there was a note in her voice that told you she already knew.

You shrugged, not meeting her eyes. “Nothing important.”

She made a low sound, something between a hum and a sigh, as she got out of bed and walked over to stand beside you. Rain had this way of moving, like every step she took was intentional, like she knew exactly where she was going and didn’t care if anyone got in her way. When she was next to you, she didn’t touch you, but you could feel the heat radiating off her skin, the proximity both comforting and suffocating at the same time.

“You’re lying,” she said, not accusing, just stating a fact. “You’ve been quiet all night.”

“I’m tired, Rain,” you said, leaning your forehead against the cool glass of the window. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either.

“Bullshit,” she replied, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “You never get this quiet unless something’s on your mind.”

You finally looked at her, really looked at her, and felt that familiar pang in your chest, the one that had been growing more insistent with each passing day. She was beautiful in that untouchable way, the kind of beauty that was sharp and dangerous, something you could admire but knew would hurt you if you got too close. And yet, here you were, too close and getting closer all the time.

“Rain…” you started, but she cut you off.

“Don’t,” she said, her voice suddenly sharper, more alert. “Don’t say it.”

You hesitated, the words stuck in your throat. She was watching you so intently, those blue eyes practically boring into your soul, daring you to speak, to say what you both knew was coming.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you said finally, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. It was like a dam had broken, and everything you’d been holding back came rushing out. “I can’t keep pretending that this is enough, that I’m okay with being just another option to you.”

Rain’s expression didn’t change, but something shifted in her eyes, something almost imperceptible. “You knew what this was,” she said, her voice steady, almost cold. “I told you from the beginning that I wasn’t looking for anything serious.”

“I know,” you said, hating how your voice sounded, weak and shaky. “But things change, people change, and I… I’ve changed.”

She didn’t say anything for a long moment, just kept looking at you with that unreadable expression. Then she sighed and ran a hand through her short hair, messing it up even more. “What do you want from me?” she asked, sounding tired, almost defeated. “You want me to say I’ve changed too? That I want something more? Because I can’t do that. I’m not going to lie to you.”

“I don’t want you to lie,” you said, feeling a mix of frustration and sadness welling up inside you. “But I also can’t keep doing this, pretending that I don’t care when you’re with someone else, that it doesn’t hurt when you push me away the moment things get too close.”

Rain’s jaw tightened, and she looked away, staring out at the night beyond the window. “I’m not good at this,” she said quietly, and for a moment, you thought you saw a crack in her armor. “I don’t know how to be what you want.”

“I’m not asking you to be anything,” you replied, taking a step closer to her, your hand itching to reach out and touch her, to bridge the distance between you. “I’m just asking you to be honest with me. If this isn’t going anywhere, if it’s just going to stay like this, I need to know. Because I can’t keep pretending that I’m okay with it.”

Rain turned back to you, her expression hardening again, that moment of vulnerability gone as quickly as it had appeared. “I can’t give you what you want,” she said, her voice firm, final. “I told you that from the start.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat as you took a step back, putting distance between you. “Yeah,” you said softly, your voice breaking just a little. “You did.”

There was nothing left to say after that. The silence stretched out between you, heavy and suffocating. You wanted to cry, to scream, to do something, anything, to break the tension, but all you could do was stand there, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on you.

Finally, Rain spoke, her voice low and almost resigned. “Maybe we should stop.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. You had known this was coming, had seen it in the way she had been pulling away lately, but hearing it out loud still hurt more than you had expected.

“Yeah,” you said, forcing the word out through the tightness in your chest. “Maybe we should.”

Rain didn’t say anything else, just nodded and turned away, walking back to the bed. She sat down on the edge, her back to you, and you knew that this was it. The end of whatever this had been, the end of something that had meant so much more to you than it ever had to her.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you gathered your things. You didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to walk away from her, but you knew you had to. Staying would only make things worse, for both of you.

As you reached the door, you hesitated, your hand hovering over the handle. You wanted to say something, to find the right words to make her understand how much this hurt, how much you had cared, but you knew it wouldn’t make a difference. Rain was who she was, and she wasn’t going to change, not for you, not for anyone.

So, you just opened the door and walked out, leaving Rain behind in the darkness, the sound of the door closing echoing in your ears as you stepped out into the night.

[blackleatherjacketz]

Nocturne

Miguel O'Hara x Female Reader

Summary: Miguel wakes you in the middle of the night to fulfill your arrangement.

Warnings: 18+ Only!, Explicit, NSFW, Wake-Up Sex, Kissing, Biting, Scratching, Miguel's Fangs, Miguel's Claws, Blood Drinking, Groping, Fondling, Caressing, Teasing, Taunting, Miguel Ripping Your Panties in Half, Vaginal Sex, Doggy Style, Female Orgasm, *Bonus points if you catch the Sting reference*

Word Count: 1.6K+

Read my other MIGUEL stories!

You always feel him before anything else; before you can hear his footsteps bend the hardwood of your floorboards into a whiny creak, before he whispers your name longingly into your ear as he crawls into your bed, slipping beneath the sheets. He’s always careful not to stir you from your slumber too abruptly, crossing over that threshold of the waking world and into the hazy realm of your dreams with relative ease.

He first appears as tall stalks of grain in fields of gold beneath your fingertips, as wispy branches dangling from the tops of willow trees, surrounding your face and arms with soft, delicate touches. Those leaves gently lay themselves across your shoulders, pleating around your upper body as they pull you in closer to the aged tree trunk, slowly growing in warmth. The smell of his sweat and the heat of his breath eventually signals you to his presence beyond the sandman’s grasp, the kisses he plants onto your neck tenderly waking you as the trees begin to fade out of sight.

“Mmm, you’re late,” you mumble as your eyes flutter open, the blurry green numbers of your alarm clock showing three thirty in the morning.

“Am I?” He slides his hand beneath your shirt, tickling the skin on your torso like those dreamy willow branches before cupping your breast with his palm. “I ran into some trouble, but I can make it up to you,” he kisses his excuses into the nape of your neck, taking your nipple between his fingers and pinching to get a quick moan from your lips. “I promise.”

“Uh-huh,” is all you can manage in response, his targeted handiwork distracting you from his tardiness as he pinches even harder, forcing your breath to quicken.

“What were you dreaming about anyways, huh?” He twists your nipple toward him, grinding his hips against your backside as his bare arousal grows between your cheeks, getting your body good and ready for what he has in mind, for what he always comes here for.

“All kinds of things,” you whisper, his erection more than prominent against your underwear as you instinctively rock back into him, your own moisture collecting between your folds as his kisses only get deeper.

“Oh yeah?” He lifts his knee between your legs, shifting his weight onto your hips with a quickness that forces you onto your stomach, keeping you right where he wants you. “Anything like this?”

The weight of his massive body resting on your lower back nearly forces the air out of your lungs as both of his hands graze over the gooseflesh cascading it’s way down your spine. Like a blind man reading braille for the very first time, he palpates every bump, studies every raised hair on your skin as if committing it to memory before slowly pushing the fabric of your t-shirt up above your shoulders. He waits for you to fully acclimate to the sensation of him laying on top of you before tickling the tiny spaces between your ribs just enough to get you to shiver and tense back up.

“Arms up, baby, you know the drill.”

Too drowsy to make any quippy retorts for your usual snarky banter, you follow his command and lift your arms above your head. You let your eyelids fall shut again as he disrobes you at an agonizing pace, peeling your sleeves off your biceps and forearms as he playfully nips at your shoulders and neck along the way. He takes his time massaging the muscles in your hands as your collar passes over your head, finally pulling your shirt from your fingers before silently dropping it onto the floor.

“You’re almost all healed up from last time,” he notices as he kisses his way back up your arm, sucking on the yellowing bruise he’d left on your shoulder just last week. “It’s like I was never even here.” He sits up and leans backward, slowly dragging his claws down the length of your torso just deep enough to leave tiny trails of white, disrupted skin in their wake. “Looks like I gotta fix that.”

Your back arches instinctively as the cool air of your bedroom shocks your nervous system, stinging your freshly exposed skin as you inhale with a quick hiss. You try not to writhe beneath him as the pain trickles down through each layer of your skin, settling into a deep somatic ache in its futile attempt to soothe your now reddened flesh.

“Nice and open for me now, huh?” You hear the fabric of your underwear being split down the middle before he mercilessly rips it apart, each thread separating in sequential succession before it falls to shreds around your hips. Another hiss from you turns into a high-pitched gasp, his expanding audacity almost making you regret your unspoken arrangement with him to trade your blood for sex.

Almost.

You hear him laugh in sheer delight before you feel him glide down across your folds as he wastes no time thrusting against you. You can feel him pause to grab hold of himself at the base, barely brushing over your swollen bud as he spreads your juices up and down your length, refusing to acknowledge the wounds he just created. “Where should we start this time, eh, cariño?”

“Miguel,” you plead, lifting your hips up to meet him just in time for him to pull back with another confident chuckle. “Miggy, please, I’m so tired.”

“Oh, you’re tired? Hmmm?” He taunts, playfully slapping the head of his cock against your ass as he spreads your cheeks apart with his opposite hand. “Maybe I should bite into one of your wrists this time, huh? Take a little bit more than usual… or try this spot over here by your ribs,” he pinches the skin behind your breast to make you flinch. “That seems pretty fucking ticklish.”

You whimper at his callousness, nodding your cheek against the pillow as he glides over your clit a few more times, relishing those little bursts of joy that counter the throbbing ache in your back as he continues to toy with your emotions. “Or maybe you could just…”

“How about here?” He cuts your suggestion short by grasping onto the muscles at the base of your neck, tracing the outline of your pulse as it races down your throat into your right shoulder. “Give that other side a break?”

“Mmm hmm,” you nod again, your mumbled word stifled as he finally thrusts inside you at the most delicious angle, turning that moan into a feral groan as he delves inside your slick, velvety walls.

The two of you sigh together as he fills that void deep within you, stretching you out inch by inch until you’ve enveloped him completely, his muscular thighs flush against the backs of yours. You can feel his heart beating through his chest as it rests against your broken skin, pausing in a brief moment of stasis before he pulls out and pushes back in at twice the speed. Closing your eyes again, you choose to focus on the tantalizing, rhythmic thrusts of pleasure he feeds up into your core, clenching down around him as you ignore the stinging friction of his body as he holds up his end of the deal.

Each ounce of pain he doles out is worth every pound of ecstasy that he delivers along with it; his hand smoothing its way across your hip and beneath your pelvis to find your bud, rubbing it up and down in perfect tempo with the dizzying movement of his hips. Like a classically trained musician, he plays you like a fiddle, knowing exactly how deep to push and how long to pull against your soaking wet organ in order to get you to play the tune that he wants. Your breathy moans reach notes you’ve never even dreamed of hitting before, the sound of his skin slapping against yours providing the perfect beat for his baritone growls as he wraps his other arm around your chest. Pulling you into him, he plays the last few notes leading up to your crescendo with such unmatched fervor that he can feel you vibrate around his bow.

You surrender to the music and let it move its way through you, its rapturous notes immersing your senses with such unbridled bliss that you can barely feel his bite. Your part of the deal never felt so good, so mundane compared to what he gives you in return every time that he drains that little bit of life from your veins. That sharp twinge sinks deep into your shoulder as the song he plays continues up into your spine, exploding in a symphony of the erratic drumbeats of his hips, the mismatched chorus of your moans and his muffled breath against your skin. The reverb shakes itself through you both in waves, pulsing through your core as you flutter around him, quaking into your extremities and out of your fingertips as you desperately grasp onto the sheets.

“Fuck, you taste so sweet when you come.” He finally whispers after getting his fill, lapping up the excess blood off your neck as he finishes sputtering his release inside you.

“Yeah?” You turn your neck to face him as your body continues to shake, running your fingers through his hair as he playfully licks and sucks the skin around your new bite. “How’s that?”

“Like honey, or butterscotch,” he smiles, pressing a trail of kisses into your cheek until he reaches your mouth, giving you a small sample of whatever it is that he can taste.

“I’ll take your word for it,” you whine as he pulls out, the absence of his girth leaving you feeling empty again as he lets go of you completely before laying down next to you. You tuck your head up under his armpit and wonder if you’ll be able to feel him laying next to you in your dreams after you finally fall asleep again.

[reriart]

Mending A Torn Heart [Astarion x Reader]

Hello everyone, it's been a while! I finally have a new laptop so I can start writing again. I hope you'll like it and if you have prompts for other Tav/Durge x Astarion, feel free to drop one in the ask box!

Please remember that English is not my native language.

TW: +18 MDNI, Tav have female genitals, but you can decide their gender, fluff, angst, penetration, PiV, improper use of spell, blood drinking, depression, mention of parent's death.

Words: 2,487

Tav fails to mend their blouse, so Astarion offer his help.

You can read it on AO3 too.

"Ouch!" you murmur, bringing your index to the mouth, sucking on it to stop the bleeding and the burning sensation.

During the evening, you've been trying desperately to sew up a tear on your worn blouse, but never in your life have you picked up a needle and thread - it was something your mother usually did. As a result, every attempt to fix the damage fails miserably.

"Damn it!"

Tears begin to peep, but you try to push them back. It feels foolish to cry over something so frivolous, and, especially, you don't want others to see you like that. You bend your head and shoulders downward, sighing and hoping they don't see your eyes glistening. When you look up to check, you realize that only Gale and Astarion are left. You were too focused to notice whoever was there before.

"My fellow bookworm, I think I'll go to sleep," Gale says. "I don't deny this is a conciliatory reading for a good sleep."

Astarion remains with his eyes fixed on his book. It has a worn cover, but in the vampire's graceful hands, it looks refined and antique rather than ruined. His free hand caresses the rim of the pewter cup beside him, which you are sure contains no water.

"The books you read always tend to do that," the elf replied. "You should try something that isn't fiction for women of a certain age."

"My pale friend, I don't know if you've noticed, but our book choice is limited to what we salvage among burned houses and dead bodies. At least until we get to Baldur's Gate, there is…"

Astarion rolls his eyes. "Good night, Gale."

The wizard sighs, getting up and disappearing into his tent. You lower your eyes and turn back to your torn blouse, biting your lip to keep from huffing.

"Are you going to spend all night poking holes in your fingers like you're squeezing a porcupine, or are you going to ask me for help? You're making me thirsty."

Swallow. Well aware of Astarion's supernatural nature, it had occurred to you that he could sense even a droplet of blood in the air, let alone … well, many droplets.

"Can you sew?" you ask, tilting your head.

Astarion snorts, setting the book down on the floor and getting up with the grace of a cat. He stretches his back and smooths his clothes. "Of course I can sew. Everybody should know how to do it. It's, you know, essential."

Guilt settles in your stomach. Does he always have to be so straightforward? You look first at him, then at the blouse, where two small red patches keep company with the gash in the fabric. "…damn, that won't come off."

"I am sufficiently knowledgeable about blood and tailoring to tell you that yes, those stains will come out," he mutters, sitting next to you. "Let's solve this first. Give it to me," he orders, motioning you with his hand to hand him needle, thread, and whatever else.

You do as requested and move closer to him, still trying to maintain some distance. The terror that he will hear your heartbeat running at full speed or that he might use one of your pitted fingers as a drink restrains you from getting any closer.

"Gods, it looks like a goblin tried to fix it," he comments, huffing and pulling away the thread you tried to patch it with. "How is it possible that you don't know how to sew? Did you grow up in the middle of a forest?"

"I didn't - no one ever taught me. Mom was usually doing this, but she died when I was still quite young. This is one of her clothes, the only one I have left, actually. I don't want to throw it away," you confess, looking at your toes sticking out of your crossed legs.

Astarion looks up at you, then looks down at the lake and clenches his jaw. "I can understand that. I have … something that's been with me for a long time, too, and it's ruined, just like your shirt."

His attention returns to the gash.

"It's too dark to teach you now, I can see well but you can't. I'll sew it, but you'll have to learn to do it yourself. I'm not going to mend your whole backpack," she comments, passing new thread through the needle, and then bringing the cotton flaps closer together. His fingers, long and nimble, move confidently, but they tend to linger on the traces of blood. When he finished, he cut off the excess thread with the dagger he always keeps attached to his belt. "Here you go. For the stains…"

He interrupts his sentence when he sees you with your head resting on his knees, in a vain attempt to hide and make yourself small. The elf is about to say something but interrupts himself. "Is something the matter?"

You mutter a "no," but your body betrays you and you clam up even more.

A hand, cold as a piece of ice, rests on your shoulder, making you wince and look up at him. His red eyes, now a wine-colored hue because of the poor light given by the bonfire, stare at you.

"Despite my years off duty, I'm still a magistrate. I know if someone is playing games with me, and you look like you're not telling me the truth."

Your heart skips a beat.

Between his direct gaze and stern tone, that feeling of guilt that hovered in your stomach before only increases.

Your eyes wander and for a second they make contact with him, and you are certain that the elf can feel your temperature rising and your blood flowing faster.

It's not a surprise that your feelings for Astarion have intensified, but your courage has always been equal to your skill for sewing: non-existent. That's why you are a healer. You don't even have the guts to fight. Confessing your feelings to him is a greater challenge than escaping from an owlbear using slippers on a road full of mud.

You reach out, shyly, to your shirt, which Astarion holds in his free hand. He hands it to you, and immediately you bring it to your chest, hugging it like a plushie. "Thank you."

His eyes become soft, and round. A bitter smile crosses his face, making wrinkles that you were not aware of appear. "You feel less lonely when you hold it, don't you?"

You swallow, surprised by his words, and give him a confused look. "How do you know?"

You see him hesitate for a second, and then in one fluid movement, he gets up and disappears into his tent.

When he returns, he is holding a dirty blanket, which at first glance would appear to be black, but could also be gray or blue - the light is too dim to identify its color - and he sits down next to you, this time almost completely erasing the distance between you.

"This is all that's left of when I was alive," he confesses, caressing the folds of the fabric. "It was in the grave with me when I was turned into a vampire.

I never dared to fix the holes in it. I'm scared…"

"…that it will lose its meaning," you reply, finishing the sentence. "That's why I was afraid to fix the shirt. Beyond the fact that I can't sew, it's just that…"

Your words are interrupted by his lips. He reaches out to kiss you with a snap impossible to predict, one hand clutching the blanket, the other cupping your right cheek. He tastes like wine. You widen your eyes in astonishment, but you immediately surrender to it. The thought of him kissing you has kept you company on so many nights…

It is surprisingly sweet. You always imagined that a kiss from him would be sensual, full of perverse desire, but instead, it is caring. His fingers descend to the nape of your neck, bringing you even closer to him, while your hands abandon the shirt on your waist and search for his curly hair.

An eternity and an instant pass at the same time.

Astarion's wet mouth leaves you without, however, moving too far away. His eyes seek yours and your foreheads touch gently. "Your sad eyes have betrayed you since the first day I met you, darling. Your loneliness is familiar to me. I am an ultracentenarian vampire. Everyone I knew, except Cazador and my brothers, is dead."

You caress, with trembling fingers, his alabaster skin. He does the same, concentrating the touch of his fingertips on the bluish veins that decorate your neck.

He bites his lip and sighs, appreciating the beat of your heart.

This time you take the lead, kissing him. He groans as his hands slide up and down your body, masterfully avoiding any dangerous zone of it. You open your lips just enough for his tongue to begin exploring you.

In the blink of an eye, you find yourself lying on the ground, blouse and blanket safely beside you, away from the fire. He towers over you, but he is very different from when he feeds on you - a gesture deliberately offered to him after discovering his secret - he is gentle and wary in his movements. He rolls his hips and his name escapes your lips as you feel the erection press against you. "Astarion…"

"Can I stay with you tonight?" he asks, foreheads touching again.

There is a note of desperation, of pleading, in his trembling voice. The white hair, previously carefully combed back, now dances before his very own eyes, giving him a younger appearance.

You wonder if it is the effect of the wine he drank in Gale's company or if he is sincere. If it is just a way of manipulating you for an easy night of sex (and blood), taking advantage of your fragility.

However, there is something that slows down your thoughts, your paranoia, and that is his sad look. His hands are shaking, as is his breath (and to think, you were sure he didn't need to do that) now teasing your skin.

You both want to end the agonizing scream, the black shadow that envelops you when everyone rests.

That aching loneliness that slips silently under your skin. That constant thought of being nothing to no one, of dying without anyone noticing.

And, nourished by that thought, you freed both from your clothes. You don't even notice. There is urgency and sweetness at the same time. The vampire's icy, marble skin gradually warms as he enters you and gasps, blinded by the desire to become one with the one on whom he had set his gaze from the first moment. Deep, precise movements arch your back, leaving marks on his back. Slowly, you let go. Stress and sadness seem just a memory as your eardrums beats in your ears, following the rhythm of your heart. Astarion kisses you, licks you, inhales your scent, holds you under his body, then rolls onto his back to have you on top. He guides you as you abandon fear altogether, his hands explore your chest, his teeth tease your neck.

The first time you climax, you see him fight against his whole self. He growls against your ear as he leads your orgasm with slow thrusts and he whispers your name. You try your best not to scream, but it's hard when the man you've wanted for months is giving all of himself to you. You hear a rustling coming from a curtain - Shadowheart's, perhaps - and you fear the worst.

Near the point of no return, he struggles out of your warm, soft body, so different from his own, picking you up without explanation and carrying you to his tent with no effort. He leans you between the pillows and then searches for something in what you think is his backpack; being an elf he will surely be able to see something, but to you, almost everything's black. You feel him approaching you again, entering you in one fluid movement, this time without holding back moans.

"Come again for me, my dear." You hear him unfurl a scroll and whisper something - a spell of silence- then a flash of purple light breaks the darkness, allowing you to see his profile. He pleads you, lifting your legs onto his shoulders. You almost run out of breath from the position, as his erection kisses the depths of your body.

You tilt your head, offering your neck. Astarion licks your veins, stroking them with the tip of his nose and growling against your skin as his nails sink into your soft hips. "I-I don't know if I'll be able to stop." Teeth scratch the first layer of skin, making it burn, and you know he is fighting against his nature.

You stroke his hair, bringing his face against you. "I'll stop you if it happens," you reassure him. What you feel next is something you felt before: a stinging, similar to the needles that pierced your skin just before; then the languid liquid heat loosens the muscles in your shoulders. You arch your back and he begins thrusting again, drinking in your life. You scream his name, your vision goes white. You suddenly feel a new sensation: pulsations, slow and enveloping. Astarion's dead heart rises in you, thanks to the warm, sweet blood. Your movements become ungainly and desperate, and you realize he's close. Although you're almost out of energy, you won't stop him. A second wave of pleasure hits you, this time accompanied by the liquid desire that Astarion pours into you, distorting your name, unable to withdraw his teeth.

Perhaps it is thanks to the tadpoles, but your thoughts merged. The pleasure soars to the point of knocking the air out of your lungs, but it is what happens next that leaves you breathless for real.

Like a spell, you see yourself from Astarion's point of view: when he first saw you, then when he saved you several times from various enemies. In the heat of battle, you often lose sight of what is happening around you. But he has always been your shadow. You see him watching over you at night, unable to rest. And he sees you, your surreptitiously cast glances, your silent healing spells when you saw him exhausted from being feedless, moments in battle when you can't offer your blood. He moves his teeth away from your artery, but not his mouth. He drinks again until the movements of his hips become slower; then he licks the skin to let it heal. One last long, deep thrust, accompanied by equally languid licks, pushes the hot seed into your womb.

You kiss it and the metallic taste of blood teases your tongue. "You have never been alone."

"Neither have you, Astarion. Neither have you."

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Butterfly II

a/n some of you wanted a part two of this so here we go. This can be read as a standalone. I am just a tiny bit obsessed with this. Thank you for so much love, I really wasn't expecting it. 🤍

summary: When Joel thinks that his life is over his little butterfly sends him a new reason to stay alive. The only problem is that he doesn't know how to love but when you are the meaning of love itself how can he not fall.

Part III is on my blog!

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It almost felt like you were floating. The warmth and soft sheets surrounded your body, and the mattress beneath you was an absolute dream in comparison to a makeshift box bed or the sleeping bag on the ground. Maybe this was a dream after all? Considering that you could almost make out the birds chirping outside. The bright morning sun hit your face through the crack in the messily closed blinds. The ray of light leaves warm kisses on your skin. When was the last time you felt so at peace? Without the primal urge to survive rushing through your body.

You tried to tilt your head to the side, hoping to escape the beaming light but found no luck there. Lazily opening one eye, you took in the room in front of you. A frown washed over your face. You did not remember getting up to the bedroom last night. Had you been that tired? Your leg nudged something on the other side of the bed, and you instantly shot up as the fight or flight mode went off. Heart racing.

"Easy, easy… You're okay, everything's okay", Joel's groggy morning voice filled your ears, and your shoulders slumped in the instant. As you took a breath in, your hand came to rest on your chest. Joel's fingers slipped to run up and down your exposed thigh as he tried to soothe the rush of anxiety that he felt seeping through you. His eyes were still closed; the sun was dancing on his exposed chest now. Yeah, maybe you were dreaming.

"Bad dream?", he mumbled again, pulling you out of your little daydream. You shook your head even if you knew he couldn't see it, "No, I just didn't expect you…here", "You act like we haven't shared a bed". You let out a huff, pushing his rough palm off your leg. The corner of Joel's lips turned upward. "It's not about that, it's just a… I usually know that we will be in bed together here, so I figured you might… never mind," you muttered quickly.

Back in QZ, where you shared an apartment with one bed, sleeping in it together was a no-brainer. Well, Joel had given up his bed to you first, moving to sleep on the sofa instead. However, he did not spend a single night there. The guilt of him getting a bad back because of you made you drag him to bed in the middle of the night. It was a blanket line at first that split the bed, but even that didn't stick around for long as you found yourself waking up with your fingers reaching out for Joel or clenching his shirt in your sleep. Maybe simply seeking comfort, maybe out of sheer fear of waking up alone.

"Lay down and stop thinking so loudly," Joel's hands pulled you closer to him, and you let him as you rested your head on his chest. Fingers instantly reached up to run over the lines of scars that covered his body. In the beginning, he would catch your wrist with his hand, pushing it away from his skin, but now… Now he said and did nothing to stop you, allowing you to do your thing.

"Did you bring me here last night?", you questioned quietly, feeling bad for disturbing his slumber. Joel only hummed, "You fell asleep on the sofa." You remembered watching Ellie flip through the books you had found in the attic. Cup of tea by her side that you made her in hopes of making her nighttime anxiety ease up. You watched her with a fond smile on your face. Truly, there was nothing more beautiful than seeing a child experience something new, and Ellie, just like all the other kids, was robbed of a normal childhood. So you were more than happy to bring at least a drop of normality to her. Your head was resting on Joel's shoulder as he, too, sipped the tea you had made.

"This shit is nasty, why would you write a book about dating?", Ellie turned a romantic novel in her hands, making you let out a tired chuckle. "Eh, that was one of my favorites. Wait till you get to my age. Fictional men are like no other", you snorted, just managing to hear Joel do the same as he brought the cup closer to his lips again. Looking up, you already find him glancing down at you.

"No way, Bill had comic books?!", the girl shrieked, making you jump slightly at the loud noise as she pushed the box over, making everything spill all over the carpet. Joel squeezed your shoulder slightly, "Lay down." He patted the pillow that was on his lap, but you shook your head, "Not tired. Don't worry". But the man wasn't having any of it and gently moved you to lie down. You tried to protest at first, but Joel only silenced you as he started running his hand through your hair. That was when you realized just how insanely tired you were. Your hand squeezed his thigh, a silent thank you as you felt your eyes getting heavy.

Joel's eyes stayed on you. Watching as sleep took over your body. How you lost the fight to slumber, and your body slowly eased up You twitched a couple of times. A usual practice for you that Joel had grown familiar with. You, just like him, had nightmares clouding your brain. And your body hated the sensation of sleeping, trying to fight off the state of unconsciousness for as long as possible. No one could protect you in your dreams. Not even Joel - even if he wanted to.

"You like her," Ellie said, causing Joel to raise his head. He had somehow forgotten that she was here too, lulled by your somewhat peaceful features. He wouldn't have let his guard down so low otherwise. This side of him was only for his own eyes and no one else's. His face instantly shifted to a tight smile, replacing the calm features. "Don't shove your nose into other people's business," he said bitterly, hoping that Ellie would feel ashamed and drop her gaze, but she didn't. "But you do. I can see it", "What do you know about it, kid", Joel bite back harshly, but you had shifted on his thigh as if even in your sleep sending him a warning to watch his tone. The girl shrugged her shoulders, "Not much, but you always watch her, and it's kind of creepy, but also she does the same, so", Ellie trailed off, returning to making piles of the books instead. Joel wanted to snarl something out, but it was true. He was always watching over you. And he loved nothing more than catching your gaze, taking you off guard at times.

"Go to bed, it's late", Joel said, carefully shifting to scoop you up in his arms, "I'm not tired", Ellie voiced, and Joel only inhaled sharply, "That's what Y/N said as well, look at her now". Ellie watched as you clung to Joel, even in your sleep. She watched as he walked towards the stairs, once again shushing you as you muttered something in your sleep. She followed you up to her room, which was a door away from the one Joel carried you to. You had asked her if she wanted to have a room all to herself for a couple of days that you were here. Since she had never had the pleasure of it, she of course agreed to it. But now that Ellie looked at the dark space in front of her, she realized how much more she preferred being able to press herself closer to you as you slept in the sleeping bag.

Joel had walked out not even ten minutes later after he was sure that you were sleeping and comfortable. Ellie was standing in front of her bedroom door, staring into the distance. "Why aren't you in bed yet?", Joel called out, making her jump. "It's dark," she muttered under her breath. The distress in her body language was visible. "Well, it's nighttime, so of course, it's dark," Joel said, waiting for her to come at him, but she just tightened her hands into fists. He often thought that this was unfair. That Ellie had to go through so much at such a young age. He understood why you grew so protective of her and why Ellie clung to you at any moment that her ability, to pretend that she feared nothing at all, failed her. Joel let out a sigh as he walked into the dark room, quickly finding a light switch before moving towards the bedside table. Ellie watched him from the hallway still. She watched how Joel pulled the table to the furthest corner of the room, before putting a lamp into it. It was far enough away to not disturb sleep, but bright enough to illuminate every corner of the room.

"Jump into bed, Ellie," Joel said calmly, and Ellie almost thought that she was imagining the soft sound. Well, she heard it when Joel talked to you. His tone was barely bitter then, but… She nodded her head as she rushed to get under the covers. She expected to watch Joel leave, but instead, he walked toward the bed before sitting down at the end of it. "Go to sleep," Joel repeated, "But why… what are you doing?", the girl croaked out, trying not to let the stinging in her eyes show. Just like Joel, she hid her emotions behind the wall. Only slip-ups happened when she was with you. "You have nothing to fear. I'll be here till you fall asleep, and then Y/N and I are a door away," Joel said, watching as Ellie looked around the room. A glimpse of Sarah filled his mind. She nodded her head, but the tension didn't leave her body as she clenched the blanket in her hands. Joel wasn't sure who or what made him do it, but he moved closer to Ellie. The memories of him introducing Sarah to her new room and how she hated it the first night swirled around.

"Want to… want to hold my hand?", it felt weird saying it, and Joel even got embarrassed, but then he sensed Ellie shifting as she clung to him. Joel's gaze softened when he saw a tear glistening in the dim light on her cheek. "You're safe here. We will always keep you safe, kiddo." And he stayed there till she fell asleep, and then some more. Watching her or just zoning out as he thought about Sarah. The same way he shushed you as you spoke in your sleep, Joel shushed Ellie. Guiding her out of her bad dreams and into a peaceful slumber.

When he finally slipped out of Ellie's room and went to check on you, Joel knew that he wasn't going to find sleep anytime soon. After pulling the blanket further up your shoulder, Joel moved towards the window, quickly checking if it was tightly shut. Then the same thing happened in Ellie's room. He walked all around the second floor, checking the doors and windows, before moving downstairs and doing the same. That's why a man like you and I are here. Joel could still hear Ellie's voice as she read out Bill's letter. We have a job to do, and God help any motherfucker who stands in our way.

The feeling of your fingers scratching Joel's scalp brought him back to the sunny room, and he finally opened his eyes. "Was she okay sleeping without us?", you moved up, pushing yourself against Joel's chest, and he shook his head, already hating the worried look that washed over you. "I stayed with her till she fell asleep and checked on her through the night," he said so casually as if it were a self-explanatory thing, but his words made your heart clench. You knew how difficult such interactions were for him, how many demons from his past he had to choke out for that to become a reality.

You leaned in, brushing your nose against his before wrapping your hands around his neck. Joel's arms sneaked around your waist, fingertips moving just slightly under the big shirt you were wearing. "You know that she will never forget that, right?", you muttered into the crook of his neck. "Thank you for doing that", "I wasn't going to leave her all alone," Joel said firmly, and you pulled away slightly. Of course, he wasn't. Because he cared. Cared more than he wanted to admit it, and even more than he knew himself. You two were inches apart. You could feel his breath on your skin. Warm and inviting. This felt intimate, not like most of the sexual interactions you two shared, which were mostly there to get rid of the primal needs.

You moved to slip off Joel's chest, but his grip on your hips only tightened. "Joel..", you breathed out. Fuck, did he love hearing his name roll off your tongue. There was always this beam of light with love in it. It didn't sound as harsh or scary as it did when others said it. No, when you said Joel's name, he knew there was nothing but happiness there. And you proved just that when a soft chuckle slipped past your lips, and you leaned back toward him. "I just want to make your coffee," you said as you twirled your figures through his hair, hoping to reason with him to let you go. "We can go if you want a cup," but you shook your head, pointing a finger to his chest, "You will stay in bed, sir, and let me bring it up for you."

The only person who had done this before—brought him coffee, even if it was with a scrunched-up nose—had been Sarah. The gleam in your eyes made it hard for him to say no. So he did what he had been doing for years. Joel let go of you, watching as you quickly shimmied out of bed. He hated that this felt natural. This felt right. He fucking wanted to start his days like this. Even more so, he knew that this was temporary. A day or two and you would be out in the wilderness, where at any moment a runner or a clicker could get either of you infected. Joel wished you could just stay here. Forget about all the other promises and just stay here in this surreal reality.

Seeing you with a cup of coffee in your hand and messy hair falling everywhere, even if you tried to control them with a quick braid and that smile, made Joel's head spin. That smile had dampened him and left him defenseless. "Careful, it's really hot", you handed Joel a cup as he sat down, resting his back against the headboard. "Did you sleep at all?", you spoke up again, crisscrossing your legs as you looked up at Joel, all of a sudden noticing his tired eyes. He slowly nodded his head, yet you could tell that he was elsewhere.

You were about to nudge him about staying in bed all day and finally getting proper rest when you heard a silent knock on the door before it cracked open, and you saw Ellie standing there. Still rubbing the sleep from her eyes, you smiled at her, patting the side of the bed. Her eyes drifted to Joel, but since he paid her no attention, she stepped inside. Curling up on your lap like a cat in front of the sun on the windowsill. "Morning, sleepyhead, did you rest well?", you pushed some of the messy strands of hair away from her face as she flashed you a smile, yet her eyes were still closed.

You pulled your blanket over her body, slowly tracing your hand up and down her back, and almost immediately you heard light snoring. Raising your eyebrows, you looked toward Joel, "She fell asleep again." You giggled, carefully swaying from side to side with her in your embrace. Joel's eyes fell on you, but they were nothing like they were moments ago. You reached your hand out to touch him, but he quickly got out of bed. "Get to the garage when she's up; we need to talk about the next step." You frowned slightly, unsure of what this was about, but still nodded your head.

Joel sat by the table, his chin resting on his knuckles as he stared ahead. His brain was racing. This was all too good. Too much. He was losing his clear mind. Tiredness—it was all because of tiredness, he told himself as he waited for you two. That's why a man like you and I are here. Joel needed to remind himself of his main job here. To remind himself of what had happened before. What had happened to Sarah. Joel heard you two before you opened the door. Ellie was talking so quickly that you were probably laughing at her, yet it died down the moment you stepped into the garage.

Joel met your confused eyes but dropped the gaze in an instant. "I think it's best if we leave tomorrow morning," he spoke up coldly. No reason's why. Or what had changed. Just a plain, cold statement. "What?", you choked out, walking closer to him. "It's best if we keep moving," Joel insisted again.

This was not what you imagined hearing this morning. Even more so when the morning started so sweet. "Where is this coming from? I thought we were going to stay here for a couple of days," you questioned again, feeling Ellie's hand slip into yours. "We're getting too comfortable; the word behind the fence is nothing like this," Joel grumbled angrily, not meeting your eyes for even a second. That in itself was starting to annoy you.

"Joel… we talked about this. We stay for a couple of days, regain our strength, all of us, and then…", but a harsh slam on the metal table made you stop mid-sentence. "Then what?", Joel spat, "What, Y/N? You're getting too attached. This is not our reality. We're wasting time to deliver cargo." Joel's words left you defenseless as you stared at him, not quite. believing your ears. You knew that he could be an ass at times, but this.

"Shit," Ellie cursed under her breath, and you instantly pushed her behind you. "Right, because she is nothing to you. Because you're this cold and fucked up male", you spat back, as nodded your head, "It blows my mind the way you dispose of people…". Laughing under your breath, you tried to find words to say. Still in disbelief that he was changing the plan for selfish reasons. Just because he didn't do happy.

"Fuck you, Miller. I've been trying so hard, but you know what? Fuck it. Get us there and fuck off!", the sound of your voice made Joel clench his jaw. He would have much more enjoyed you screaming than hearing the disappointment that poured from you. Joel looked up at you, but now you seemed miles away. Had he finally done it? Finally made you give up on him. "Yn," he called out quietly, but you only shook your head, "Don't you Y/N me. Come Ellie bug, let's get our stuff", you turned to Ellie, who was standing behind a woodworking table. All way pressed up against the corner like a lost puppy.

"Don't," Joel caught your hand as it reached for the girl, but you yanked it away from his grasp in an instant. Your eyes filled up with tears, but you bit the inside of your cheek as you tried to pull yourself together. You'll cry later. In the shower, maybe. Behind the house. Anywhere but in front of him. You reached Ellie, bringing her into your embrace, as you guided her toward the door. You were about to step out when you stopped and turned to Joel one last time, mumbling, "There's no us, by the way. You're alone in this Miller", with that you pushed the door closed harshly, making your way towards the house as you dabbed your cheeks dry so Ellie wouldn't worry even more. Butterflies weren't meant to live a long time. Maybe it's better to live from sunrise to sunset and die before the world beats you down without any mercy.

[allgirlsareprincesses]

Love At First Sight (2023)

Okay, we’re going to talk about the new Netflix romance directed by Vanessa Caswill, Love At First Sight, because I’m seeing almost no chatter about it and that cannot stand. Full disclosure, I’ve never read the book on which this movie is based, The Statistical Probability of Love at First Sight, so I’m reacting only to the film (which I’ve now seen 4.5 times in 2 days).

The Surface Reading

It’s a perfect, tight, adorable little RomCom that’s heavy on the Rom and light on the Com, with a wrenching dash of angst and the most hair-twirling chemistry between two leads that has graced our screens in years. Truly, if all you want is 90 minutes of two actors being saccharine precious cinnamon rolls, look no further!

There are simple takeaways here, like that chance can only take you so far, but in the end you have to choose to love. Or that change and loss are part of life and you can’t run from them. Or that London is a massive labyrinth of eccentric people that probably looks 400% cooler onscreen than it is in reality (I wouldn’t know, I’ve never visited, so this and the 90s Parent Trap are the extent of my knowledge about the city, sorry).

Anyway, I adored how straightforward the story was - that the narrator (played brilliantly by Jameela Jamil) tells you directly in the first two minutes that it’s a story about love, fate, and statistics. She then repeatedly describes every development as it is happening, the characters’ histories and internal monologues, and all the context you need to follow the thin but fast-paced plot. The writing, performances, and production design are all solid, allowing the audience to get lost in the romance as it unfolds.

BUT if you’re slightly unhinged like I am and you’re always looking for more layers in your media, HAVE NO FEAR! There is in fact more going on in this little movie than you might expect.

Color Theory

For starters, the use of red and green in the film is fascinating. Yes, I realize the action of the story takes place a few days before Christmas, so you might assume it was just a seasonal aesthetic choice, but if you look closer, you can see very carefully selected shades of red and green repeating throughout the film. The red is a cool, deep rose color, sometimes pink, while the green is cool and dark, like oxidized bronze rather than emerald. Further, while they appear over and over, these hues are rarely used in a purely decorative or festive way. Instead, they play a role in the separation and coming together of the couple. On a color wheel, red and green are complements, perfect opposites that are never adjacent but always joined in the middle.

The title card during Hadley’s introduction is literally a green stripe over a red stripe, then the hallways of the airport are green, and of course Hadley’s ever-important backpack is a rosy red. As the couple grow closer on their flight, the light turns pink. Once in London, a green van takes Oliver one way while a red taxi takes Hadley the other. At her father’s wedding, Hadley is dressed in red (“the color of a bruise” she calls it), contrasting beautifully against her green jacket. Upon realizing Oliver’s true purpose, she chases after him on an iconic red double-decker bus. Meanwhile at the living memorial, Oliver’s father is dressed in red while his mother wears a faded green, as if to say she is already beginning to fade away. The event is decorated with green drapery and streamers, and there are even stacks of red and green chairs in the stairwell where Oliver begs his mother to receive treatment.

Hadley gifts her red and green bouquet to Tessa, and when she is driven away, a green-clad narrator returns the red backpack to Oliver. Wandering London alone, Hadley exchanges her painful red heels for a pair of green trainers (“sneakers!” she insists), and tries to call her dad first in a red phone booth and then on a phone from a stranger sitting in a cluster of red chairs. Finally, Oliver chooses to pursue Hadley to the wedding reception which is lit in pink, and where they finally share the long-awaited kiss.

There are many more examples, but in general we see that green indicates separation and loss, while red symbolizes joining, intimacy, and (what else?) love! It lends the film a gorgeous, subtle aesthetic without being garishly festive, and shows the lovers’ emotional journey from lonely childhood to vulnerable, loving adulthood.

Death and Rebirth

Speaking of which, there’s plenty of rebirth imagery too! When Hadley and Oliver meet, they are both still children, struggling with the impending loss of parental security through divorce and death. Thus, when they board the plane, it is as if they enter an underworld or womb, separated from their families and remade as new adults. They emerge on the other side into a hallway (read: birth canal), as each must still confront their own dying childhood before they can join as full and equal partners. Hadley journeys to a bright, red-strewn celebration of life, while Oliver must enter a dark green commemoration of death, his fear driving him deeper to hide in another hallway. Here his mother comes to find him, begging him to emerge into life, but Ollie still can’t confront her death alone.

Thankfully, Hadley travels to this underworld to find him, bursting into the memorial like a bright red flower. Even the bruise metaphor works, acknowledging the pain they are both experiencing at the changes in their lives. But Oliver still refuses to face his fears, trying to take a shortcut around death to life with Hadley. Still, she knows he’s not ready (likely because she’s not yet, either), and gently pushes back. And so, Oliver returns to the underworld, and Hadley walks off alone until she descends barefoot through a soggy riverside tunnel (birth canal again!). Finally, she calls her father and admits she is “lost.” When he arrives, Hadley at last gathers the courage to ask why he ended their old life, and to tell him how much it hurt her. But as Oliver predicted, she forgives her dad and even begins to accept his new bride.

Back at the memorial, Oliver is reminded by Hadley’s red backpack - his unaddressed emotional baggage - to be honest about his pain. In at last openly mourning his mother and his own childhood, Ollie takes a step into adulthood, just enough for his family to nudge him that extra bit to go after Hadley. And so, the family delivers him to his bride, who has meanwhile learned to dance again, even through her heartbreak. With one last confession, the two consummate their love with a kiss, bathed in pink light before an open door.

Happily Ever After

There’s so much more, with the hand-holding, numbers, Shakespeare, Dickens, the music, and beyond, but the point is that this cute, charming little romance is actually very deliberately constructed. It follows timeless patterns and motifs which we instinctively understand through visual and auditory language. And the narration plays a huge role in this as well, not unlike the prologues and epilogues of the Bard’s plays in that they state the story’s lessons plainly: that we cannot always be prepared for unwelcome surprises, but that we can make the choice to love every day.

Anyway, Vanessa Caswill deserves all the flowers and if you haven’t seen her gorgeous adaptation of Little Women (with all due respect to the marvelous Greta Gerwig and Gillian Armstrong), please do yourself a favor and watch that after you finish this!

[1d1195]

Protection V

You can read the rest of Protection here

A little shorter of an update. Probably another update on the shorter side after this. I promise there's a point to all this.

Warnings: bit of angst, descriptions of blood

4.8k words.

But when she did stuff like this it was hard to believe that she liked him in any sort of way. It just made him mad, and he thought that all that time he spent building this relationship with her was a waste.

Her mom was stubborn. Everyone thought it was from her dad because a top political official had to have a certain amount of discipline. A certain amount of stamina and determination to get what he wanted. To achieve the success that he had. But it was her mom that taught her to believe in whatever she wanted but she needed to believe it proudly.

Her mom was the one who cared for her attention to science. She cultivated her love of experimenting and hypothesizing like she was a garden of food. She was the one that made her believe in all the good the world had to offer, all the good people. When she was scared or sad about the things on TV, she reminded her to look for the people that helped because there were always people that helped—even in the gravest of situations. It was heartwarming to have such belief in humanity. She thought about her mom every day and she hoped her mom would be proud of her for sticking to her guns and believing in the good and more importantly herself.

She was endlessly grateful for her mom’s stubbornness for so many reasons she couldn’t begin to explain. She was bold and brave. It was the reason an entire division of grown men and women feared her just by walking in a room. The reason she was academically successful and worked so hard. Her mom was her everything and she was so glad she taught her to be independent.

Except for right now.

Because sometimes, her stubbornness got her into downright stupid situations, and she was left with no one to blame but herself. She pulled her jacket collar closer around her neck and sighed. If her mom could see her now, she wondered if she would be mad. Maybe she would laugh at her determined daughter seeing her on the bench in the middle of the park. It was raining, freezing cold rain, and her ankle was too swollen to move—she had barely made it to the bench.

Harry was going to kill her.

But for a few moments, she would have a pity party for herself while she waited for her phone to charge enough to turn on in her purse. At least she came prepared with a portable charger this time. She hoped Harry would see it that way. Each time his curly brown hair and his green eyes popped into her mind; she felt a pang of disappointment in herself. Harry was so nice. He was so gentle with her even when she was a bitch, and she knew it.

It was probably extremely against protocol for her to be in love with him.

Her phone began vibrating about a hundred times in one minute and even though it seemed excessive, she was glad he was worried. Even if it was just for his job. She didn’t bother reading the worried text messages. She didn’t listen to his angry voicemails.

If he were my boyfriend this would be so controlling, I would be out of there in two seconds flat. Why am I liking all this?

If she thought for longer than two seconds, it was because she knew that despite his job, he was worried about her. But she couldn’t think like that. Harry didn’t like her like that, he couldn’t like her like that. He had his whole bit about protocol and this...relationship...they had.

He wasn’t in love with her, she decided.

She put the phone to her ear after tapping Harry’s name. She wasn’t sure it rang long enough for even one ring to go through but naturally, he answered.

“I’m in the park,” she said before he started yelling at her. “I’m fine,” she added. Although she felt he probably didn’t care at that point. If it were her, she’d probably say something like “not for long.” Harry, though, despite how annoyed he got with her, how angry he got, never said things like that. Even as a joke. Maybe it was protocol, but she definitely knew others wished her dead behind her back.

She heard him rattling off a list of questions into her ear, angry swears dotting his phrases and questions. But she ignored it all and found comfort in just the tone in his voice.

“I’m in the park, I won’t move,” she didn’t think telling him she couldn’t move was necessary. She hung up before he started yelling again.

*

Every time Harry thought he was making progress with her, it felt like they went right back to square one. The night’s adventure led her through a bathroom window once more. Harry swore he was going to put a tracking device on all her clothes, and he was going to tell her as soon as he found her.

After all that, he wondered why she felt the need to leave through the window. Like he wouldn’t happily follow her without question. The guy seemed nice. Despite the fact they were in a seafood restaurant that she didn’t like. He held her seat out, he asked questions about her and her studies. When he left, he kissed her cheek. She told Harry she just wanted to run to the bathroom first and then poof.

Harry wondered if he cramped her style. Part of him hoped that was the case, honestly. Harry wasn’t sure how he would like the whole dating scene when there was someone constantly hovering near by worried about his safety. But by now she had to know this was his job, that he took very seriously, and after the other really bad night, he wanted her to know that he would keep her safe. Even if he wasn’t part of DSS he believed he would try and keep her safe, he liked her a lot. It was bad how much he liked her. When he wasn’t around her, he thought about what she was doing. If she was giving the agents a hard time. He refrained from messaging her all day even though it was the only thing on his mind. He wished her luck for her classes—especially when she had a quiz. But other than that, he tried not to think about her.

It was next to impossible. She invaded his every thought. Like a little flower, a wildflower, poking through the cracks of his brain and growing where it shouldn’t.

Even if it was beautiful and lovely where it grew.

But when she did stuff like this it was hard to believe that she liked him in any sort of way. It just made him mad, and he thought that all that time he spent building this relationship with her was a waste.

He pulled his jacket collar around his neck snuggly. A new burst of anger surged through him because she was out in this terrible weather anyway. If she wasn’t in the park, he was going to lose his mind.

Fortunately, his mind would stay intact. He saw her vibrant red raincoat across the way, even through the pouring rain. She was sitting on a bench. No doubt drenched through and through.

Was she just enjoying a good rainstorm? She made him so angry he could spit. He hustled through the rain, not caring that he was getting soaked either.

“What is your problem?” He snapped when he was within earshot. She didn’t look at him, which made him madder. “I don’t care if y’don’t like me,” Harry knew that was a lie. He wanted her to like him so badly. “I don’t understand. One minute we can watch movies and another you’re leaving me in the dust,” she imagined if they were in her apartment he would be pacing back and forth. But it was raining, so he didn’t. “Y’don’t have t’like me, but I don’t like being unemployed. Every time they ask if I want t’be reassigned I ask if y’don’t want me anymore. They tell me y’don’t want t’fire me so I jus’ don’t get it,” he was so frustrated. She wondered why tonight was the breaking point for him. Because there were at least ten other grievances that Harry could have faulted her for before tonight, but it seemed like today was the worst. “Why would y’run away like that? S’not like I haven’t been kind t’your needs and all the things y’want t’do. Why would—why are y’sitting in the rain?” His tone of voice changed from his rant. Like he only just realized where they were and that it was raining. “S’freezing cold? Where is your date?”

She didn’t speak for a moment and Harry wanted to shake her. He thought she was annoying, but this was so agitating he wanted to throw his phone across the park. Then maybe shake her. “They ask if you want to be reassigned?” She wondered. He ignored her question.

“Why are y’sitting, alone, in the park, love?” His gentleness was back.

Another beat of silence. “Why don’t they like me?” She whispered, barely. Harry almost didn’t hear her over the rain.

“What?”

She sniffled and looked up at Harry.

All the anger left his body. He didn’t care about his job, if he was unemployed, he didn’t care if the ground opened up below his feet and sucked him down to the core. All that mattered were the tears in her beautifully sad eyes. The fact they were soaked to the bone didn’t matter.

She was okay, that much was clear—at least, she was mostly okay.

“I told him about you. Pointed to where you were sitting. He told me to ditch you, so we could be alone. I don’t know why I did it, Harry. I’m sorry. I know I could have asked you, but I just...” she shook her head, disappointed in herself as much as Harry seemed to be. Her mom would be disappointed too, she was sure. Letting a guy dictate what to do. It was nearly against her religion. “We were cutting through the park, and I twisted my ankle on the edge of the sidewalk. I barely made it to this bench and he...” she felt so stupid. “He made some...lie. I don’t know. Said he would be back...left me here and that's when I called you,” she finished. “Why don’t boys like me?” She asked. “I’m...” she sniffled. “I know I don’t need them,” she told Harry. “But I’m so alone all the time. I want one. I want someone to love me,” her voice was so sad Harry wanted to scream. He was heartbroken, he could even tell the difference between her tears and the rain falling down her cheeks.

He didn’t want to tell her that he probably loved her—well he actually probably did want to tell her such. (He was in fact, sure he loved her, but he thought if he pretended that he didn’t, he wouldn’t ruin his job, or cause her to think he was insane.) Harry sighed and crouched a bit toward her. Other than the time she hugged him to thwart the flirting of the guy outside the bar back in August, he hadn’t ever really touched her. But in the past few weeks, it seemed to be the only thing he did. Cradling her was becoming dangerously like second nature. More so he did it so effortlessly, he was used to how she felt held to his chest. Her cheeks warmed because she remembered the conversation she had with him before about her minor insecurity of him sweeping her up in his arms like this. Even if he said her weight wasn’t on his mind, she imagined it wasn’t easy for him to carry a full-grown adult.

Still, he cradled her, pausing briefly to assure she was firmly in his grasp. They were drenched in rainwater and Harry worried she was going to catch a cold. He was going to insist she shower—or maybe take a bath if she couldn’t stand on her ankle. He would make her tea while she did.

He began walking back to the SUV. He released a long, almost irritated sigh as he answered. “You’re finding boys not men, love.”

She didn’t say anything in response and tried not to think about how nice it felt to be held by Harry. With her arms looped gently around his neck, she got a good view of his profile. She tried not to stare but Harry was beautiful. It was hard to look anywhere else. Even with rain pouring down his face and his hair matting to his forehead, he looked like a model for umbrellas.

He was so kind to her, even when she was awful and did stupid things like she did tonight. It was hard for her to keep up this façade that she was angry all the time around him. He broke that the very first moment he arrived outside her door, took her snide smile with ease, and just let her be. Or maybe she was finally tired of it all and Harry was just...easier.

She decided right then and there she shouldn’t torture him anymore—couldn’t torture him. It wasn’t fair to him. This was...so much more than he probably ever expected and he was so nice about it. Her other agents would have fallen through the cracks. Like a hydra, three more people sent to take their spot at this point, but poor Harry continued to stay. He didn’t deserve her being a brat. “D’you need t’go to the hospital?” He asked.

She shook her head. “No, thank you,” she answered quietly. “Sorry,” she murmured and rested her head against her arm that looped around him.

“Y’need t’find someone better than these tools y’running around with love,” he muttered.

She bit the inside of her cheek so hard she drew blood so she wouldn’t ask if he could be the someone better.

*

She was grateful no one was around to see Harry carrying her through her apartment building like a bride. She didn’t want comments and they were still soaking wet. He carefully placed her on the couch and began running around her apartment immediately. In a flash he had gotten her a change of clothes to put in the bathroom, medicine for the pain (pain that she didn’t even feel over the ache of her lonely heart), and turned on the shower to heat up. He took her shoe off and inspected her ankle.

“Do y’think y’sprained it?” He asked. She shook her head.

“No...it should be okay by tomorrow, maybe the day after at latest,” she murmured. “I went down so gracefully to keep from really spraining it,” she explained with a smirk indicating that it definitely wasn’t graceful. It was the first sign of happiness on her face.

Harry wished he was there when it happened because he was sure he would have thrown himself in her path to keep from falling in the grass. Harry was going to make a note on the guy’s file that he was a douchebag and not to be trusted.

“Of course y'did, Miss Wildflower," she shook his head with a smirk. "Do y’think y’can stand in the shower?” He asked.

She nodded looking anywhere but his face. “Can you just...carry me in there? Clothes and all? I’ll handle it from there,” she promised, cheeks reddening.

He would gladly undress her with the utmost respect if it would help her. But he kept that to himself. He grabbed her up again, once more at ease with how natural it felt and placed her in the shower. The water soaked her clothes even more. He was glad she was wearing easy things to get off. A pair of leggings, a long blouse. He thought it was deplorable of the guy to leave such a pretty girl hurt and alone in the rain. “Please, jus’ shout if y’need help. A little embarrassment isn’t worth getting more hurt,” he said gently. She nodded awkwardly.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Course, love.”

“Do you have to do paperwork for this?”

“I think y’know the answer t’that.”

She frowned. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Really, truly, so horribly sorry.”

“S’okay, love,” he smiled weakly and gave her shoulder a squeeze.

“I’m not going to do it anymore,” she looked at Harry through her lashes and his heart melted. “I promise.”

Harry reminded himself that every time she promised, she meant it. So, he was a little surprised by her sudden vow. Wondering why tonight was the straw that broke the camel’s back. “Okay,” he nodded. “I believe you...shout if y’need something,” he reminded her and left her alone in the bathroom.

*

Harry took the fastest shower in the world. He didn’t have spare clothes here, he should have. It was stupid he didn’t. But she managed to find a pair of basketball shorts she had from an ex-boyfriend that she never gave back. She liked the mauve colored fabric and thought if he was going to kiss other girls while dating her, she deserved a pair of shorts in return. She found an oversized sweatshirt she bought from her college—she always found buying in the men’s section led to the comfiest hoodies—took the taking your boyfriend’s hoodie to a whole new level. Harry threw his actual clothes in the dryer.

“Think m’stuck here for a bit,” he smiled at her as he brought tea to her. She already knew that though. He had called in the car that he didn’t need his relief; it wasn’t uncommon. She was out and about, and it didn’t make sense for someone to switch out if he had it under control and it would just cause trouble.

She was setting up the next movie on their list on the TV. She tossed a blanket onto the other couch, but Harry sat beside her, pulling medical tape from the pocket of his shorts. He collected her foot in his lap and very gently pushed it into a flexed position. “S’that hurt?” He asked.

She shook her head. He was so gentle she was certain if it was broken, she wouldn’t be in pain. He looped the tape around her ankle several times, ripping off strips and making sure it was stable. It felt better already. He got up once more, hurried to the kitchen and back, before sitting beside her again. He placed a throw pillow atop his lap and placed a bag of frozen peas on her taped foot. She shivered at the chill, and he reached for the blanket on the end of the other couch to toss over the rest of her leg. “How do you know how to tape an ankle?” She asked.

He smiled. “I used t’be an EMT,” he told her. She blinked. It occurred to her she knew nothing about Harry. “Then I was private investigator,” he added to her surprise. “I didn’t really want t’be a police officer because I didn’t want t’have t’go through all the training. I actually hate carrying a gun,” he admitted. She glanced at the gun on her dining table. She never felt worried about it or about Harry having one, in fact she often forgot he even carried one. “But I had t’take a class or whatever...wanted t’make sure I knew what t’do if I needed to,” he pressed play on their movie. He turned to her surprised face. She was staring at him, not the screen. “What?” He asked.

“What’s your favorite color?” She asked.

“Orange.”

“Favorite food?”

He thought for a moment. Paused the opening credits. “Tacos...or Brussel sprouts.”

“Favorite animal?”

“Turtle.”

“Board game?”

“Scrabble.”

“Store?”

“The bookstore, I think. Maybe Target.”

She pursed her lips. “Favorite Beatle?”

He smirked. “Paul.”

“Do you like olives?”

“Hate ‘em,” he nodded. She liked them. So, there was that; the olive theory would apply to them. “Anything else?” He wondered as she thought over his answer.

“Season?”

“Spring...oh did y’mean like spice? Cause that’s curry.”

She laughed and shook her head. “Okay, that’s it for now.”

He smiled, enjoying her laughter. He enjoyed the carefree way she sounded when she wasn’t focused on hiding her feelings or pretending to be grumpy. “I’ll ask more later.”

“Sure, love. I’d like t’know some answers myself,” he said, shifting slightly to keeping the peas firmly on her injury. He didn’t seem to mind how cold it was, although she was sure his fingertips had to be numb from it because her foot was freezing.

Eventually, she fell asleep and Harry did everything he could to make her bed comfy before bringing her in. “Night, Harry,” she mumbled as he slowly closed the door.

“Night, love,” he smiled.

*

Her ankle made a full recovery by day three, as she had predicted. Once more, she proved that her promised word meant something. She didn’t escape, she listened when Harry politely asked her to leave a restaurant or store, and she didn’t fight him on any protocol. Harry hadn’t done paperwork in almost two weeks. “Are you sure you don’t want to be reassigned?” His supervisor asked again.

“Does she not want me anymore?” Harry repeated the same question he always did. With a shake of his head, Harry answered the same way he always did. “I’ll stay.”

They continued with their normal routines. Except now she asked him all kinds of questions about his favorites. She asked them all the time. “I...I thought I’d make tacos, if you want some,” she was so gentle now. Harry wondered if this was what she was like before her mum...before her dad. While her vulnerable self was definitely one of his top five favorite versions of her, he thought it was this version of her that took the number one spot. Her soft demeanor, her kind smile. She was...

Don’t go there. The little nagging voice in his head was turning into a voice with a megaphone trying to remind him about protocol and professionalism and how falling in love with the person he was supposed to protect was messy.

Not to mention frowned upon.

“Sounds good love, d’you need any help?” He asked.

She shook her head. “I’ll let you know.”

He nodded, sitting at his computer and running through his email, the list of events for the month. Harry was supposed to head back to England for New Year’s. He would celebrate Christmas late with his mum and sister. He would sleep late, go to the bakery he worked at as a teen, and crochet with his family on the porch while they sipped hot chocolate.

He hadn’t mentioned his vacation to her yet. He was beyond excited to see his family, but he knew he was going to miss the girl cutting up an avocado in the kitchen. He didn’t know how to bring it up either. Every method seemed like a bad idea. If he mentioned Christmas, he might have to talk about her dad. Which was definitely a subject he enjoyed avoiding. Bringing up his mum was also a sensitive topic.

He also worried that he would tell her he planned on getting her a gift because he didn’t think he should—she loved her birthday gift and she insisted he tell her his birthday so she could reciprocate and if she missed it, she was going to give him an extra birthday. He declined to tell her at first, but she scowled at him and refused to play the movie, put the remote down her shirt until he told her it was the first of February. He managed to keep the idea that he would gladly follow the path of the remote to—

“Harry!” She gasped loudly and he heard something clink on her tiled kitchen floor. Harry knocked his computer off the table. It clattered to the floor beside the overturned chair as he rushed to her side in the kitchen.

“What happened?!” He asked alarm ringing in his voice, reaching for her shoulders as she nearly folded herself in half clutching her left hand in a fist and placed her right hand over top it.

“Oh, my fucking God,” she hissed. “Ow, Oh my God, I’m so stupid. Ow, ow, ow,” she whimpered.

“Love, let me see,” he said nervously, encouragingly.

“I sliced my hand so bad,” she croaked. “Fuck,” she moaned. “I’m so dumb.”

“Hey, s’okay,” he said soothingly seeing the blood seep over the back of her hand. “Jus’ lemme see, love. S’okay,” he steered her toward the sink. He guided her hands over the basin and turned the water on. She slowly released her hand. It wasn’t necessarily gushing, but hand wounds always seemed to bleed profusely. He stuck her hand beneath the stream, and she flinched with a sharp intake of breath.

“It hurts,” she whined.

He nodded. “I know, love, m’sorry,” he mumbled eyeing the gash she created just below the first knuckle of her index finger right before nicking the small web of skin between her thumb and forefinger. It looked like a massive paper cut.

“Does it need stitches?” She asked nervously. “I don’t want to go to the hospital,” she frowned.

He shook his head. “No, s’not that deep,” he began opening cabinets looking for her first aid kit.

“It’s on top of the fridge,” she told him. He really liked the way she knew what he was looking for without having to say it.

“Harry,” she whined as he got the bandages he wanted out of the kit. “It hurts,” she repeated.

“I know, love. M’sorry. Hold on jus’ a second,” he tried to work quickly grabbing a paper towel to dry her hand. He switched the water off and covered the cut immediately. Drying the area. She winced at the contact of the towel and watched as it became sodden with blood. He frowned, put her hand under water once more while he grabbed more paper towels folding it into a little rectangle. He repeated the process, pulling her hand from the water, drying and then placed the little rectangle on her hand. He brought her right hand over top of it, then squeezed her hand tightly over the towels. “Hold your hand above your heart,” he said shifting her arm for her. “Keep pressure on it,” he quickly got the bandages and ointment ready on the counter beside them.

“Harry, it hurts,” she complained again, her voice catching.

“I know it does, love, m’sorry,” he frowned and turned to her again. “M’gonna try t’make it better, okay?”

She nodded and tapped her foot impatiently as he pulled the towels off and quickly slathered the area with the anti-bacterial cream the bleeding seeming to stop a good amount with the jelly-like substance keeping the blood from pouring out as quickly. “Harry,” she grumbled miserably as he continued to work diligently on her cut.

“I know, honey, m’sorry,” he repeated almost exasperated. Not with her, with the situation. He felt terrible she was in any kind of physical pain. “Jus’ another minute,” he promised and quickly laid gauze over top of the cream. She seemed to sigh with relief at that and then it was silent while he placed the tape over the bandage and skin.

Now that the pain had dissipated from her mind, it occurred to her he called her honey. It made her weak. Felt like her organs were 300 degrees hotter than they were supposed to be. She was certain if she looked up at Harry her pupils would have turned into little hearts.

He smoothed the bandages over a few times, inspecting his work and making sure it was of top quality and wasn’t bleeding any longer. She was sure stitches couldn’t have healed it faster after Harry was done with it. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and stared at it for a moment. Time seemed to stand still as he held her hand in both of his.

Without thinking he brought it closer to his face and dropped a kiss over the top of the bandages. Somehow, through two layers of tape, gauze, and the ointment, she swore the kiss cured it. It took every ounce of her self-control to not sigh like a sappy, lovesick teen girl. The hearts in her eyes surely had Harry’s initials flashing in them.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, Harry released her hand. His cheeks turned this adorable shade of pink as he offered an uncomfortable smile. “I’ll finish the tacos,” he suggested.

She nodded. “Okay,” she mumbled. “Thank you.”

“Course, love. Sorry y’hurt yourself.”

She hoped he didn’t see the hearts in her eyes with everything in her.

Harry swore her pupils were the size of her eyes. He could have spent forever staring at her. He would kiss her hand a thousand times. All he wanted to do was stand in this kitchen and look at her for the rest of his life.

--

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[talesofesther]

sweet calamity | ch 5

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Series Summary: It was something people described as the sweetest pain, the feeling of when the soul that's destined to find yours is closer to you. Wednesday saw it as a curse, promised herself she would hate whoever was chosen for her; but it's easier said than done.

A/N: I think this might be my favorite chapter yet. Let me know what you think. <3

Masterlist | Read ch 4 here

The clock on your bedside table read 1:16 AM. It was a little late, but also the only time when, technically, everyone was asleep.

You snuck out — well not really, considering you're not leaving the school, only your dorm — with careful and calculated steps, you made your way down the dark stairs and to the quad.

The reason for that, is that a particular flower you want to add to the quad's flowerbed only blooms at night. And you need to make sure that its color fits in well with the rest of the plants already there. Maybe it was futile and maybe it was your perfectionist side speaking, but you genuinely wanted the place to look nice when you were done.

Or you were just taking any small excuse you could get to keep your mind busy.

You could use your abilities if you wanted to, make the flower bloom during the day so you could see it in its full glory, but it didn't sit well with your heart to disturb its natural cycle.

So here you were, in your pajamas, shivering because of course you forgot your jacket, sneaking out into the night only to watch a few flowers bloom. It reminded you of the times that you'd do the same thing when staying over at your grandparents when you were younger; a smaller you hugging a huge cardigan around your shoulders, your bare feet feeling the grass between your toes as you sat down on the lawn and just waited for it to slowly happen.

The moon was high in the sky when you reached the quad, almost full and casting a pleasant glow for you. The air was cold, much colder than it was during the day but there was a certain comfort to it, you realized.

You closed your eyes for a moment, tilting your head up and breathing in deeply.

Quiet moments like these have always been some of your favorites.

She would probably enjoy it too.

Your mind drifted. You opened your eyes only to see a blanket of stars above you; endless, timeless.

Maybe she would complain about the colors, but you'd gladly add a few black flowers to the mix if she asked you to.

You shook your head, scolding yourself for missing someone who wasn't even yours, to begin with.

Five days ago, Wednesday found out you are her soulmate, and you haven't spoken with her since. It could be wishful thinking, but sometimes you had the feeling that she wanted to speak with you, however, you didn't feel much ready for that. The changes were small, like finding a new partner for a few classes that you used to sit with her, taking the longer path to some of them so you wouldn't end up bumping into her; little things to postpone what was most likely inevitable — you live in the same place after all, it was bound to happen — but for now, you didn't know what else you could do, other than avoid her.

With a soft sigh, you sat down on the ground, eyes fixed on your flowers in the middle of the quad. You hugged your knees close to your chest… and waited.

The night was serene, you could hear the rustling of leaves in the distance, crickets singing, and music.

A beat passed, and you frowned.

Music?

The melody was a little distant, but not much, you could hear it pretty clearly; soft notes coming from the cords of a cello.

You couldn't put a name to the song even if you tried, but you could tell it wasn't a happy one. The melody was somber; not creepy though, closer to sorrowful. It comes from the tallest room in Ophelia Hall, echoing through Nevermore's corners and undoubtedly waking a few students from their slumber.

You know it's Wednesday. Enid has complained to you about her cello solos in the dead of night one too many times already.

If you close your eyes and focus hard enough, you can picture her fingers moving with the cords, shaping the notes of the song.

From your spot on the quad, you look up at what you can see of the half-colorful round window. You stay there until her song ends and a little bit after, part of you knows she's still out there too. In times like these it feels like the universe is fighting to keep you close to Wednesday; you wonder when it'll see reason and give up — though secretly, part of you doesn't want it to. Because you could pretend you shared this little moment with her, after all, it was just you and her who were awake and out at this hour.

The thought of somehow feeling connected to her made you smile.

—

Wednesday dragged out the end notes of her song, the tip of her fingers burning and stinging over the cords; a pleasant, grounding feeling.

Thing closed her sheet music book, gesturing softly at her after.

"That's a silly question," Wednesday told him, setting aside her cello, "considering I have nothing to be worried about."

The disembodied hand gestured again, causing Wednesday to narrow her eyes at him.

"Her childish behavior does not bother me, I'm not sure why you would even assume that." She huffed, looking away from him with a clenched jaw, "she's the one who chose to keep it from me in the first place, so if she wants to keep her distance now…"

Wednesday breathed in deeply, she got up from her chair, and walked over to the edge of the balcony to let the cold wind kiss her cheeks, "it's just less work for me," she finished then.

Wednesday feels stuck in limbo sometimes, she doesn't understand the weight on her chest whenever she thinks of you, can't decide on how to feel about you nor why she even cares at all. She detests not knowing things, yet when it comes to soul bonds and flower perfumes, she sees herself walking blindfolded on a tightrope.

Thing came to her side carefully, he tapped her elbow, waiting until Wednesday's dark eyes settled on him. He gestured gently, his fingertips tapping the back of her hand once he finished.

In a quick move, Wednesday pulled her hand back and took a step away from him. She shook her head, breathing in deeply. "That could never be true," she pointed a finger at him, "say it again and I'll pick out each of your nails."

Wednesday turned around and walked back inside, leaving Thing alone in the night; but she laid in bed wide awake, staring at her ceiling for hours on end until the first birds started singing, his words replaying over and over in her mind.

———

The tall doors of the fencing room creaked when Wednesday pushed them open, the sunlight coming from the huge windows reflected on the pristine white walls and made the clashing blades shine.

The Addams girl walked between her peers, helmet in hand and chin held high. She could see their teacher instructing Xavier on his poor stance, holding his own blade in the correct position so the boy could copy. Wednesday scoffed when he failed again. He should stick to the bow and arrow, she thought.

Wednesday's gaze still looked for you in the crowds — while the teacher was busy getting frustrated with Xavier, she found you adjusting your uniform in the far corner of the spacious room.

She stalked closer, closing the distance between you and her. Your eyes found hers just before you lowered your helmet on your head and Wednesday could almost see the way your breathing faltered. She had caught you off guard.

You make to take a step back but your boot hits the wall, and it's suddenly very familiar to a recent memory that has been plaguing Wednesday's nights. She should hate you for it, for making her care about something she promised she wouldn't; but oh, she can't.

It's okay if you like her, there's nothing wrong with that.

Thing's words still echo in her mind.

Wednesday is quick to reach beside you, grabbing a blade for herself from the support on the wall and turning around to give you your desired space, because the image of you running away from her makes her stomach turn unpleasantly.

"Ready?" Bianca's voice caught Wednesday's attention and she looked up, only to see that the siren wasn't speaking with her, but with you.

You walked in front of her slowly, blade in hand as you took your stance, "yeah, ready."

Wednesday's grip on the steel handle of her own blade tightened; who was the absolute moron who paired you up with Bianca?

You were awful at fencing and Bianca was, arguably, even more competitive than Wednesday; and as much as she didn't want to admit it, the siren was good.

Your blade clashed with Bianca's for the first time, and a foreign feeling took over Wednesday's body as she watched the sparring unfold. She was restless, chest tight as she anticipated your every move.

Her lungs had a distant ache, because she's been holding her breath. Bianca's blade grazed the side of your head and Wednesday didn't know where to focus her unblinking eyes. She took a step closer when you almost lost your footing.

What the hell was happening to her?

Bianca was fast, too fast for you to follow. She striked, and you ducked out of the way but the movement caused the tip of her blade to scratch the side of your free hand.

Droplets of crimson red were quick to fall on the floor, staining the polished wood. The sharp pain made you wince, dragging your attention to the blood slowly flowing from the recent cut.

It was a blink-of-an-eye kind of thing. Bianca didn't see your wound, and you didn't see her going for the next blow until it was too late to defend yourself.

All that was heard was the loud clashing of steel against steel.

Wednesday stood in front of you, her blade holding Bianca's in place, with a look in her eyes that could send the bravest man running for the hills.

"What the hell, Wednesday?" Bianca snapped, lowering her weapon.

"This fight is clearly over," Wednesday tilted her head towards your bleeding hand, she still had her blade pointing to Bianca, daring her to object.

Bianca shifted her attention to you, her eyes softening, "shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's alright," you cut her off with a wave of your hand and a small, reassuring smile, "I'm alright."

"Addams," the teacher called, walking over to where you stood, "you're not allowed to interfere when other students are sparring".

Only when Wednesday saw Bianca walking away, did she lower her weapon. "Then you should learn how to properly pair up your students," she bluntly stated, raising an eyebrow at him.

The older man huffed, turning his gaze to you, "go to the infirmary." Was all he said before walking away.

You angrily took off your helmet, messing up your hair. "I had it under control," a frustrated scoff escaped you as you threw your blade to the floor. You refused to look up and meet Wednesday's eyes.

"Obviously not," she countered, "given how she was about to impale you with her sword had I not stepped in."

"Whatever, it's not like I asked for your help," you argued back a little too loudly and felt warmth rush to your cheeks when it attracted a few curious glances.

Wednesday flinched at your sudden tone, blinking a couple of times. You never snapped like that. After a beat of silence, she tried reaching out, "let me see it."

Only for you to take a big step back, holding your bleeding hand close to your chest as if trying to protect it. This distance, this brick wall you were trying to build up between you and her; it got Wednesday striving to keep her face impassive, to pretend like it wasn't taking away her sleep.

"I don't need you pretending like you care, Wednesday," you told her quietly, turning around to walk to the door, and Wednesday watched you leave. Again.

Her classmates were anything but subtle with the way they watched the two of you, no doubt wondering what about you was so special that prompted Wednesday to do what she had just done. To be honest, she was wondering the same thing.

With each of your steps — morning sunlight bathing you aureate as you walked — Wednesday could feel the thudding beat of her heart against her ribs, trying to escape her, trying to go after you.

Wednesday closed her eyes, mumbling a thousand curses under her breath as she shot down her ego. Damn you. She discarded her blade and helmet, hurrying to fall into step beside you.

"You're mine even if I don't want you to be," she forced out, sparing a single annoyed glance at you; her hand took hold of yours in a strong grip as she pulled you along, "I'm not letting anything happen to you."

—

The cut on your hand wasn't big, but the antiseptic still stung like a bitch.

You sat on one of the hospital beds of the infirmary, swinging your feet back and forth as the nurse wrapped a small bandage around your hand.

Wednesday was leaning back against the wall to your right, you could feel the weight of her eyes on you, unmoving; you felt like a deer under a panther's gaze.

But that analogy didn't work, did it?

You dare to steal a glance at her; you catch her straightening her posture, clearly not expecting you to do what you just did. Her eyelashes kiss the corner of her cheeks as she looks down at her boots, her arms crossed over her chest. There's something about her that wasn't there before, you just can't put your finger on it yet.

I'm not letting anything happen to you.

Why? You thought to yourself as you looked back at your hand, the white gauze now slowly turning a soft shade of pink. Why did she have to say that?

"You can come back later to change it one more time if you want to, but you should be fine by tomorrow," the nurse gently told you.

"Thank you, I will," you smiled, flexing your hand to test if the pain was still there. It was.

The older woman smiled back, before turning around to attend to a vampire girl who's accidentally eaten garlic.

You didn't move, only pursed your lips and gripped the edge of the bed; you had a feeling of what would happen next.

And it did.

Wednesday pushed herself away from the wall, her steps slow as she came to stand in front of you. She stopped closer than you thought she would.

"Lemon and salt will help," Wednesday told you.

Your head instantly snapped up to look at her, you frowned, eyes a tad too wide. "It'll sting like hell."

There's a ghost of a smile on Wednesday's lips that she never intended for you to see. She reached a hand to you, slowly, carefully, half expecting you to reject her touch again.

You didn't, and you're not sure why. But you did hold your breath before she even touched you.

She took hold of your injured hand, her fingers holding yours with a gentleness even she didn't know she was capable of. Wednesday turns your hand around, and somehow she knows you're back in that moment too.

She gulped, her thumb brushing over the dried blood stain on your uniform; "for the stain," Wednesday simply said.

"Oh," is all you can breathe out, afraid to break the spell that's holding this moment.

You allow yourself to savor her touch just for a second more before pulling your hand back.

Wednesday didn't comment on it, she refused to acknowledge the effect you have on her. She sets her jaw tight before saying; "I've been meaning to apologize."

You raised an eyebrow at her.

"For what I said when we first met," she continued, and you closed your eyes, because you were done crying.

"Had I known it was you I'd-"

"You what?" You interrupted her. "You'd tell me I'm not a burden? Or maybe that I shouldn't grow attached to you because you hated me before even knowing me?"

Wednesday's lips parted yet no words came out. This is wrong, this is all so wrong. She decides. This is not how our story should go.

You pushed yourself off the bed, picking up your bag to leave the infirmary.

And Wednesday follows, because that's all she can do now.

"Listen, Wednesday," you started after a sigh, pushing open the door and being welcomed with the chatter of Nevermore's busy hallways, "we can be friends if that's what you want us to be."

The students walking around you caused Wednesday to move closer, her shoulder bumping into yours with each step.

"But right now… I need time. And I need space." You shrugged, a melancholic smile coming to your lips.

Wednesday can't decide on how to feel, the thought of it brought a sour taste to her mouth. She should be glad, but that doesn't sit right with her either. And she thinks she should probably say something anyway, but before she could, someone else called out your name.

Both you and Wednesday turned to see Andrew waving animatedly to you as he molded his way between the students until he could reach you.

"Hey you," he greeted with a smile, then turned to the girl beside you, "Wednesday." He gave her a nod, and when she didn't answer, he looked back at you, "ready to present our work?"

You breathed in deeply, you hated talking in front of the class. "As I'll ever be."

"Relax, I'll be by your side the whole time." He offered.

You glanced at Wednesday before following him, the glint in your eyes resembling something akin to longing; "I'll see you around, yeah?"

Affection isn't a word Wednesday uses much, but she thinks of it a lot when it comes to you.

"Okay," she uttered quietly, and as you walked off with the guy, Wednesday managed to catch on to little bits of your next conversation;

"Hey so, you know how the Rave'n party is less than two weeks away, right? I was wondering if you'd like to go with me?" The annoying boy asked.

"Uh, yeah sure, I- I'd love to," was the last of your words that Wednesday could hear.

And she felt the strange urge to grab your hand and drag you away with her all over again.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Read ch 6 here

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

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[wriothesleybear]

Hewooo~ ✨️❤️This time i wanted to official ask you~ 🙈🤭 But first: how are you? I hope youre fine❤️✨️ Your writing of my request was just ....WOWW so so cute and warming~😘❤️Hgn....and it and the umbrella quote made me think of Rizzley finding us in Fontain, maybe in a small break of his, in rain holding an umbrella for us~✨️🤭🙈 hheheheehh~ please have a nice dayyyyyy/night/morning💕😘

Omg. First off, I am so sorry this took so long to finish! I had a first draft that I just didn't like as much so I scrapped it and started a new prompt. Second, I'm doing okay! I'm ready for spring break because I've been needing a break from work and classes. Thank you for asking🥺❤️ I'm glad you liked my writing for your request! I just liked your idea that I wanted to write for it and I always love hearing other people's thoughts on Wrio🥰 I hope this makes up for the long wait for this request! Maybe I'll redo the first draft I had for this prompt and post it separately but I'll have to see. Enjoy!~

~warnings: none, just fluff!

Let's say you're out and about shopping when suddenly it began to rain, causing you to quickly find shelter under a awning in front of a boutique. While waiting for the rain to stop so you could finally head home, you begin to sneeze and shiver due to your wet clothes that got soaked when you got caught in the unexpected rain. As you rub your arms to get some warmth, you hear someone call your name. You look up and your eyes land on Wriothesley. He's standing out in the middle of the main street, holding an umbrella to shelter himself from the rain. He walks over to you, curious as to why you're out in the cold. "What are you doing out her?"

"I was shopping and got caught in the rain. I didn't even think to bring my umbrella with me when I left my house this morning." You sneeze, still shivering from your cold, wet clothes. He noticed your appearance and how you had your arms wrapped around yourself as you shivered. He moved next to you under the awning, setting his umbrella down so he could take his coat off. He places it onto your shoulders, wrapping it around you. He rubs his hands down your arms, trying to help you warm up. You blushed, eyes wide at his unexpected actions. You've know Wriothesley for while now and you two were great friends. You knew how kind he was, but what threw you off guard was the intimate act of closeness. This was something you usually read about in the romance novels you secretly read in your free time. You couldn't help but blush at the thought of Wriothesley and you being a couple. Your head began to swarm with thoughts of 'Did he have feelings for you? No, of course he didn't. You two were only friends and he was just doing what any good friend would do.'

You were so caught up in your thoughts, you didn't notice that you've been staring at Wriothesley the whole time. His voice finally breaks you from your thoughts when he calls your name. "Hm what?"

"I said, you feeling warmer?" He chuckles "Oh! Yes I am. Thank you Wriothesley, but you should take your jacket back. You'll get sick in this rain." You began to slip his coat off , but he stops you by putting his hands on your shoulders. "I'll be fine. You need it more than me." He reasons while pulling the coat around you more. You end up accepting his kind gesture without further argument. You tug his coat closer to you, snuggling into it while smiling and blushing at his sweet gesture. "Thanks Wrio." As you thank him, you give him a soft look with that cute smile of yours that he looks so much.

He clears his throat, averting his gaze as he turns his head to hide the slight redness in his cheeks. "It's no issue. Come on. I'll walk you home." He grabs his umbrella , opening it to cover the both of you as you go out into the rain. He suddenly wraps his strong arm around you, pulling you close to him. You're surprised by his unexpected gesture which he notices by the look on your face. "The umbrella's not that big so you need to stand close to me so you don't get soaked again." You nod your head and move your body closer to his. Even though it was cold from the weather, you could feel the heat radiating off of his body. Not only that but you could also feel the hardness of his muscles through his clothes. You didn't know how much redder your cheeks could get. Wriothesley was also lost in his thoughts. He was enjoying the closeness of your body to his. Despite the reason he gave you, a part of him may have used it as an excuse to put his arm around you and hold you close.

While walking in silence, you decide to break it. "What are you doing up here Wriothesley?" It's a bit odd to see the Duke of Meropide on the surface."

"I had a meeting with Monsieur Neuvillette. Did you not like running into me up here?" He teases. "Of course not. I always enjoy seeing you. Plus if I didn't run into you, I probably would have freezed to death." You exaggerate. You both chuckle, but he can't help but notice the way his heart beats faster and the excitement that fills his body at your confession of how you enjoy seeing him. He plays along and continues his teasing. "I suppose that makes me your hero." You laugh as he smiles, enjoying the sound of your beautiful laugh. "My hero. How shall I ever repay you."

"How about having tea with me?" You two usually had tea together, but you couldn't help but feel that his offer was more than a tea date between friends. You ignore the feelings and accept his offer. "I would love to." You smile at one another. You two continue your walk to your home, sharing laughs and conversation as you near your home.

[spoiled-fawn]

Lust by Nature {Part 5}

Masterlist, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Read on ao3

Pairing: Captain John Price x fem!Reader

MDNI: 18+!

Warnings for this chapter: None

Word Count: ~6.5k

Summary: In Mexico with Los Vaqueros!

A/N: I swear I didn't take a break, I just wrote this a billion times and am struggling to make my writing better without a beta writer. I hope ye enjoy!

The constant drone of the plane's engines became white noise after the first hour. It blended into the sound of your breathing by the 10th. Given four days after the medical ward stint, exhaustion still coats your nerves with a steady hum, rivaling the plane’s engines.

Thankful for your government stipend coming back into play, a private plane across the pond was allocated to the team. Besides this, it meant you got to lie down and sleep during the flight to Mexico.

“Sae whit th' heck ur we daein' ower 'ere again?”

Groaning at the man whose lap your head rests on, you slap his knee weakly.

“Soap, be quiet.”

“Sorry, bonnie.”

His warm hand that's been petting you throughout the flight cards through your hair. A soft laugh bleeds through his breath. He’s been careful not to touch your horns after giving him a warning bite to his thigh earlier.

The sergeant had been an angel the past few days, as had Gaz and Ghost. After Deidrick was reported and shipped out in handcuffs, the boys stuck to you like glue in the easy moments. Annoyingly hovering because they had no issue with your protests.

Price and Gaz sit adjacent to you with laptops clicking away. Ghost, sitting opposite of you, spread out like a pampered cat. Something you feel that man deserves to enjoy.

“Tha’s the fifth time you're asking, Soap.” Gaz groans out. Making a noise that you can assume is him stretching out, the lower timber of Price echoes him a moment later.

“Alejandro’s men are having a tiff about selection to bring in a hybrid operator.” Price begins. “And they’ve got an issue with a renegade group. So, they’re having us help with their bug problem and show off Saint.”

“Show off that she’s a little shit most of the time?” Ghosts' deadpan humor never ceases to amaze you. All you manage is a small flip of your middle finger in response, making him laugh again.

“The fact being…” Price begins, voice coming closer to where you lie. “She is an enhancement to our team. Show ‘em how we work and help ‘em outta bit.”

You catch the small frown on his lips as your eyes blink open. The ocean in his eyes seems colder, foggy. A shallow wave of concern emits, forcing you to become conscious of how you’re curled into a ball, searching for warmth in the comfort of Soap’s legs. Goosebumps have been in a constant roll on and off during the flight, the chill on your body never ceasing to crest over you.

“How you feelin?”

“Cold, and like I need a B-12 shot with a Red Bull.” Looking much better than days prior, the dark circles under your eyes were still present. You’d all chalked it up to being subjected to a serious wound, then fighting against restraints whilst wounded, followed immediately by an 18-hour flight.

At least Mexico was going to be warm.

The feeling of a cheap blanket covering you brings some sense of ease as Price gently tucks it around you.

You miss the look Soap gives him when your eyes close.

“We’ll be there soon and can get you an IV if you want.” Is all the Captain offers before he goes back to his seat.

Truthfully it wasn’t even something that would help at this point. You’ve been starved of anything intimate for days you don’t care to count. As dry as the salt flats, your body groans with each crack of your powers. Stiff, split, and rough on each edge that tries to hold itself together.

In this state, your body let a small remnant of human mechanics take over to get you in good health. Eating food felt good, and drinking electrolytes and vitamins made you perk up. Your demon accepted emotions offered in your presence; love and care.

And usually, you would preen in the presence of these, savoring every moment you could. Yet right now, you hated the taste of it on your tongue.

Every ounce of care you received felt embarrassing. Coddled like something so fragile that can’t be protected. It angered you, the sense of superiority you radiated washed out and dragged under sea foam while trying to grasp at the surface. As if the moment you were left with the humans and away from the lab, every force of nature wanted to knock you off the water you walked on.

For now, you were surviving.

Price hadn’t said much after the interrupted kiss on the couch, having to scramble while Laswell mandated him on everything to be done.

The kiss was just that. A kiss.

Something passionate in the moment, but you knew it didn’t hold even a flicker of a flame. There wasn’t time in the dark hours of the night to huddle around the wet wicker that he is. He’s in charge, and his life is sacrificed to do so.

Sure, it would have been easy enough to come in and check on you while practically being babysat by the others. You listened for his familiar gait to approach your room in the late hours of the night.

But it never came.

With Laswell on base, the lack of interaction between her and Price made you feel like a toy soldier. Forgotten and avoided. Like he was embarrassed after it all. It made the attention from the others feel artificial, pitiful of his absence that was painfully obvious in the way you silently pleaded for him.

You had a bit more pep in your step by the time the plane landed.

Stepping into the Chihuahuan desert greets you with an eye-blinding brightness. The warmth is unrivaled as you open up like a sunflower. Looking around the expansive base, did you become coherent to where you are. Oh. This is familiar. Very familiar.

The mountain range peaks in the background of the small town in contrast to the flat land the base is planted onto. The airstrip has an impressive size, yet your plane is the only one showing activity. Like a barricaded wall, your teammates form a barrier around you while walking forward.

“Bienvenido de nuevo, my friends.” The first speaks out. Is that-?

“Good to see you all, again.” The second voice followed immediately after.

No fucking way. Had Price not been blocking your view with his large and toned back, you’d have recognized the voices sooner. You wait, rather forced to, while the men stand in a guarding wall before you.

“¿Dónde está tu demonio?” The men shift to disperse and greet each other with handshakes and half-hugs.

“She’s ‘ere. And don’t call her-” Ghost starts, looking over his shoulder to you while Price stays blocking your view.

“¿Y a quién llamas demonio?”

Ringing out from behind Price, peaking your head out to make your appearance.

Meeting the gazes of Alejandro and Rodolfo.

“They call me Saint, now.” Walking forward with an almost shy smile, you take in their reactions; Alejandro looks as dumbfounded as the day he first met you while Rudy almost cycles through the emotions of grief before blatant excitement settles on his face.

“Santa madre de-” Rudy punches Alejandro’s arm as if to make sure they're not in one of your trances. “You? It’s you?”

Dropping your bags, you meet him in the middle with a small hop into his arms. Peaking an eye open, you watch Alejandro walk with an almost angry swagger to wrap his arms around your back.

“Is this where you went? After how long- ¿Estás bromeando?” He almost shouts against your hair, each of them leaning down to leave a kiss where your horns won’t poke them.

“Are they takin’ the piss?” Gaz whisper-yells behind you, followed by Soap. “Does she speak Spanish?”

The small reunion disperses after a moment. Turning to face your teammates by the sides of the Mexican operators, a dazzling smile on your lips. Something they hadn’t seen before.

“Care to enlighten us how you know each other?” Price's arms crossed, body rocking on his heels. Chin tilted down in almost a parental look while flicking his eyes between the three of you. Your smile falls while taking in his sharpness.

“She came on a test assignment with us, in the forest. Even let us interview her.” Alejandro claps your back, looking down with an affectionate smile. “Was supposed to be for us, but they felt our men were not ready to handle a mujer malvada like her.”

“So when she left, we thought that would be the last of her we’d ever see.” Rudy finishes, moving a hand to pet your hair. “Mira cómo has crecido, princesa.” The low murmur draws a soft smile as he looks you over, almost too intimate with so many eyes watching.

Price shouldn’t feel threatened as threatened as he does.

Getting a move on, you’re led into the base's hallways. Nostalgia rushes over your lungs, almost suffocating from having the tangible feeling. Back when you were less experienced in a trepidatious custody battle.

An empty barracks hallway designated to 141 has three rooms lined up. Soap and Ghost already make their way into one, while Gaz moves to the one next to them. Price watches as you enter yours, staying in the doorway while Rudy enters the room with you.

“Are you not going to sleep with her?” Alejandro’s voice startles the seasoned vet. Watching as Price tries to move away to hide the tips of his ears turning red.

“No- No. It’s not like that.” He shakes it off, saying it for the thousandth time. Setting his bag down opposite where Gaz lays. “She’s her own person. I’m not using her for my entertainment.” There’s so much more he could say to defend himself. Dispel any feelings or even waste a breath trying to justify himself. But he leaves it at that.

He can feel Alejandro watching, hearing the cogs in his brain turning at the lack of an answer. Gaz brushes aside them to join Soap and Ghost.

“She’s different.” Alejandro starts, checking to see your door closed before he moves closer to Price. “She needs you to survive, Capitán. Nothing wrong or in the way of it- Yet you’re not getting your team to its full potential.”

This whole trip should have been a video call. Price’s clothes drop on the bed with heavy thuds, no soft movements but refrains from snapping at his host. Tension glimmers in the silence. Sounds of their breaths cut at your voice through the wall, almost smothered by the boys on the opposite side.

“We’ve been here less than an hour. How are you already giving me pointers on my team?” It’s not meant to be as harsh as it sounds. Alejandro can read between the lines from his position.

“She’s quiet. She’s not happy yet, not to what she should be.” His murmur breaks down the grating air between them. “You need to be careful with how slow your bond is going-” There’s that fucking word again. It pisses him off. It pisses him off more so that Alejandro knows your schematics exceptionally well to dish out advice. “Before something happens to her.”

“An’ what’s going to happen?”

The sound of your door opening as you and Rudy enter the hallway pulls Alejandro’s attention for a moment. Arms crossed while leaning against the wall in a relaxed form, his eyes almost appear softer with a quiet plead behind them.

“Just don’t let it get to that point, cabrón.”

Whatever means Price and the Colonel had drafted up was to show Los Vaqueros how your integration uplifts the team's mission while coinciding with integrating you into society. It sounds like a reentry program, save for the fact that you weren’t a criminal. The obvious added perk that you’ve been shaped into a soldier.

Plus you were fucking hot, so the perfect candidate to be a psyop if needed to sway the Mexican forces.

Tensions were underlaid with the men’s belief that having more than human power in an ordinary fight would soon lead to their dismissal. That, and that there was an underlying bias towards hybrids and creatures even stepping into war.

Having met Alejandro and Rudy previously set you at a higher level than respect. They know your capabilities and knew how to promote you.

You can hear the gym filled with deep voices that speak fast and low. Some women linger in their respective groups, but there was less of them compared to the base in England. The sound of the voices diminishes as you and the team step into the room.

Confidence exuded from Price, Gaz, Ghost, and Soap as they entered; Finally being able to parade you around in front of strangers made that feeling of being their pet return. Chin held high, your horns pointed towards the sky with a shine that catches the lights. Tail flickering behind you teased the soldiers with glances. The shape of your wings almost seemed like a shadow on your back, so black that it almost absorbed the light if not for the reflection of the soft scaled texture.

They move and flex in time with your breaths, brushing against Ghost as his hand keeps on your lower back to guide you through the door. Some whispers still stand out for those taking in your appearance, some speaking “Demonio” if they remember you.

When your red eyes look up and over the crowd, silence takes over.

“Buenos días, gracias por estar presente.” Alejandro breaks the static with an introduction and reasoning for the meeting- mandatory for the entirety of their base to move in on better resources, opportunities, and allocation of funding. “We welcome our friends back, to bring information on their newest addition.”

His speech moves through the facility definitions on the program; Highlighting the newest strategies for combined arms, and operations other than war, while showcasing how 141 has been integrating you within previously followed operations. A piece of them that solidifies their objective's success.

In the middle of the gym is a kill house. Made of plywood and spray-painted markings to denote entry and exit points, furnished to simulate a residential environment that tests differentiating friendly from hostile. Above is a projector screen, playing feed of the inside walls. It’s not the largest kill house you’ve been in, but tighter situations like this cause more stress and demand quicker reaction times.

In events such as this, where it's kill or be killed, those with a quicker reaction time will always come out on top. When Price steps up to speak, he presents you like a new piece of artillery.

“Saint can empathetically rule out emotions. Being able to sense them without even seeing the person, she can discern the intentions of the individual.” He shifts his weight, looking over the kill house before turning over to you. “The test will showcase her reaction time, and ability to compensate hostile forces while being mindful of civilians- if any, around her.”

Speaking on the heavy stress of why you were chosen for them, Price continues on while you're led to a small armory table by Rudy. His voice similar to telling a story with a moral at the end; Gloating on your interrogation skills and how you could make the information come out in less than a few minutes.

“Her breed is beautiful. Known for her looks, that's one of her greatest advantages. But-” You can hear him move about, getting comfortable in the crowd. “She is much more, than just a piece of art.”

Rudy’s hands check your gear, handing you an ISO and two 30-round mags while he leads you to the doorway.

“Show them what you’re made of, princesa. Eres mortal.” His lips meet your ear, giving a soft kiss that makes your smile grow pointed at the edges, giving a dangerous lick to your teeth. Rudy had learned how to rile you up since the first meeting, even in ways that Alejandro couldn’t.

You let your letting your lips kiss his cheek while smiling. A silent thank you for something sweet to make you feel just a bit more sinister. His hands give your waist a rough squeeze, your body absorbing his arousal as if sucking down water in an oasis.

Price’s voice booms a bit louder as the countdown begins overhead and signals Rudy to step back.

Ten. Nine. Eight.

“The challenge she faces today-”

Seven. Six. Five.

“will be the lack of human opponents.”

Four. Three. Two.

“But instead, virtual targets.”

One.

The buzzer rings out and your boot is already kicking in the door before it can finish. Sharpening your senses, to scan the maze-like layout of the house. The sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears fades in your mind.

As the first apparition appears, your hand moves with lightning speed to draw your weapon. The projected figure seemingly peaks by a bookcase with a weapon trained on you.

“Hostile.” Speaking in a growl from the back of your throat, a single burst rings out, hitting the target square in the chest before it fades away. Moving from the living room to the kitchen, four apparitions pop up from unexpected angles, forcing you to adapt and react in real-time. Going in time with how quickly the projections have them raise their weapons, you shoot bursts into their chest before looking at the figure displayed in a crouched position.

The barrel of your gun guides your eyes to focus, noting it's displaying a child crouched on the floor. “Civilian.” By the time you reach the fifth and final room, you’re met with a hostage situation playing on the bedroom wall.

“No te muevas o dispararé!”

Stilling, your gun stays trained on the man who holds the woman to his chest with a pistol raised to her head. The actor cries, cheesy enough it almost ruins the atmosphere. Before the animation can play out any further, a burst of fire embeds itself into the wall and they both disappear.

Finding your way back out, you dispose of the gear and fix your hair. Making your way back to the sides of your CO’s, the hidden signs of their approval don't dispel how it radiates around them.

But the sting of something sharp catches your heart. Surfing your gaze over your teammates, you catch Price’s eyes.

A sharp, hard-set stare holds you captive. Anger. You can tell from the sharp feeling in the back of your throat and almost as displeasure as pepper spray makes you recoil.

Did you fuck up?

The screen above draws your attention away. A fleeting excuse to turn away from him.

Your analytical statistics are side by side with the footage, showing near-perfect numbers; Two minutes in and out. Your figure, or lack thereof, looks as if a black haze in the kill house. Static borders the edges of you, leaving your eyes almost pitch black in the light amplification of the video.

“Think you look more of a ghost than Ghost does, lass.” Soap’s hushed laugh comforts you.

Trying to brush off whatever is stuck so far up your Captain’s ass, you stay between Ghost and Soap, hiding from Price’s aura that sours your confidence.

“Vaqueros,” Alejandro’s voice cuts the silence after the video ends. “It is time for your challenge.” He moves to the middle of his impromptu stage space where a sparring mat lies with a clear circle in the middle.

“War is changing, and now we have to. Pick a brother to fight and test her. Make it count. ¿Comprendido?”

The resulting answer is louder than you expected for a bunch of men who looked like they may faint at the sight of you.

The man sizes you up. Short wavy hair that looks black. About 6’ in height, medium build. Brown eyes. He’s by far no Gaz or Ghost, a lighter hue that doesn’t hold a depth like theirs. Less inviting.

The first lunge is led with his chest, feet following with the weight in his toes. Heavy in his strikes, you give the man credit and think you’d have been at least hit if he wasn’t a bit fearful. You can taste it.

Not using an increase of speed, you dance your dodges with him. He presses on, each time more intense as he gets used to your presence, your appearance, and nature. Not like you’d bite his hand off, damn. Having enough, you catch his wrist, using the shock of your touch to the advantage before turning and tossing him over your body and to the ground.

A collective sound of “Aye” and low whistles ring in the room, taunting and scrutinizing the operator looking up at you.

“Otra vez.” Masculinity in this culture is a serious thing, you learned a great deal from Alejandro and Rudy. There’s no smile, no laugh, or taunt, to your demeanor. His glare is vicious, but it means good progress for an actual spar.

Resetting, he wastes no time to tackle you.

You let him, wanting him to have his moment and feel a semblance of training. Your body rolls with his, absorbing his momentum while adjusting your limbs to grapple against his hold. Vaguely, he reminds you of a boar. Head-driven while using his size as intimidation, the testosterone that leaks from him is almost enough to make you cough.

It’s when you release a hiss of air from taking the knee to the ribs that you decide the show’s over. Elbowing the arm that holds himself up, locking your legs around his hips, you push him onto his back, growling. “Enough.” Your voice has that ethereal chime, sending shivers down the spines of those looking on with an intent to devour.

Focusing on his eyes, the connection forms a bridge. Golden glowing embers that only you can imagine leading your intentions to coat him with a soft push of influence. He stills beneath you. His grip on your thigh which was previously attempting to push you off becomes soft. Almost petting your muscle before he nods.

“Sí, señorita.”

The men watching start to holler, making enough racket that you have to push your control just a bit harder. Hand trailing over his face before taking his wrists and printing them above your head.

“Very good. Wake up.” As easy as it was to enter his mind, and form around him in a soft embrace, you pull back your influence. The trance leaves him in a breath, becoming aware of the crowd before looking up to find you smiling down on him.

The erection pressing against your ass is immediate. Giving his wrists a small squeeze, you stand from his lap a second later to let your actions speak.

It takes about another ten minutes for the meeting to adjourn. Some of the men had spoken up and even asked questions, and a lesser tension could be felt, compared to the beginning. They’d have much more work to do if it was ever to become a safe environment for whatever creature was chosen, but you had hope for Los Vaqueros.

Alejandro and Price agreed on having downtime before meeting for the second reason of the task force’s visit. With an hour to do nothing, Price decided to walk around on a self-guided tour, wanting to separate himself from the others.

He isn’t one to let curiosity get the best of him, but that became a lie when you joined. Tension in his knuckles begs to be cracked by the force of at least hitting something, pent-up frustration storming.

It was the moment between you and Rudy. He’d seen it.

What seemed like a private moment between you two hadn’t been fully concealed at the entrance point of the kill house. While everyone else had watched the feed of internal cameras, he’d been watching you.

Seeing you instantly melt into Rudy’s affection sparked something far too inappropriate for a man his age. Immature for a Captain. The nagging thoughts of hands coating something that belonged to him, made him want to lay his hands on you in any way. Spar marked as training, or grabbing you by the waist and against his chest.

Maybe you’d ask for a transfer. Fuck, maybe you’d be in bed with Rudy and Alejandro at the end of the night.

He doesn’t understand how you could chase him like a puppy, just to sniff a new bone and run in the opposite direction. Fleeting and impatient where your attention should be on him. You’re on his contract. Not theirs. That can’t possibly be broken and torn up. You’re his and his alone.

“I’m a fucking mess.” He admonished. To whom, he wasn't sure.

The hallways of the base were more intimate and narrow than the ones back home, making an eerie quietness come over him. Minimal sounds echoing, letting Price’s footsteps reverberate quietly on the concrete ground. It's when walking past a small corridor of offices, that the silence breaks.

“-your face, princesa. You’re tired and cold. No nos mientas.” Alejandro’s voice breaks over the hum of electricity in the halls. Straining to hear the vibrato of the conversation, Price follows the sound coming from an office a few yards away

“Tell, him. If he doesn’t know, how is he supposed to fix you?” Rudy’s voice consumes the space in a whisper, absorbing sound as he speaks gently. Price leans against an adjacent wall, the blinds on the door’s window blocking any view of him.

He can see you sitting on the desk with the two men he has loathed far too harshly since the start of the morning, crowding you. You lean into them, the movement of their hands petting you isn’t missed by Price.

The unspoken relationship between the three of you is so blatantly contrasted against you and the 141, that he wants to throw himself out of a window. The ignorant belief you wouldn’t stray from his heel grating in his mind.

Jealousy makes his lungs stutter at the wave of pressure from the sight. It makes him want to have a team bond that makes holding and sharing you in soft moments. It’s what he’s beginning to crave as he watches it happen with them.

Maybe if you weren’t a self-righteous prick it would be different. He tells himself, seething as he watches on.

“I’ll be fine. Just a few more days like this and I’ll be back to normal.” You almost sound defeated with the insistent directing and questioning.

“You know… We could always just-”

Before you can finish the sentence, Rudy’s hand gives a smack to your arm in the form of a reprimand. “No, cariño.”

Alejandro follows the reprimand, capturing your chin in his hand. “We respect the Captain. We’re not going to interfere with what you have together.”

Alright, Price is fractionally less mad at them, his paranoid mind bristling still.

“Yeah, right.” An irritated scoff leaves you, shaking your head from his hold. “Doesn’t want me. Made it known.”

When you hop off the desk to gather yourself, you miss the look between the Colonel and Sergeant Major.

“Price is a good man, princesa.” Alejandro starts, and the words stir you enough to let the disbelief on your face show.

“Why are you-” You cut yourself off, moving to turn on Alejandro. “Look at me. Any man would have fucked me on the first day. You know what's going to happen, if-”

It almost sounds as if you’re going to cry. Has it really been this big of an issue?

“Shh, you’re okay. Estas perfectamente bien.” Through the blinds, Price watches as they bring you back into their embraces. “We believe in you two, just let him come to his senses.” Rudy murmurs against your hair.

“If he doesn’t… Please call us, mi amor.” Alejandro finishes.

You don’t make it more than five minutes before being grabbed and shoved into an empty conference room.

“What the fuck-” A hand covers your mouth as the door locks behind you, flicking on a yellowing overhead light.

“What the fuck was that?” Startling at the intensity of his voice, your eyes dart to the ice-blue ones glaring at you, filled with rage.

“The hell are you talking about?” Your muffled reply makes his hand move from over your mouth and down to your jaw, his body crowding you against the wall.

“Don't you play stupid, girl.” Price’s voice drops lower than you’ve ever heard. Even thicker than when he finishes a cigar. The prickling feeling rolls off of him again, making your throat tighten. There’s another feeling to him. A crash of emotion that makes you want to lower your head and dispel any argument between each other. To please him.

Your silence makes him continue. “That little thing you had with Rodolfo earlier today. That little meeting you just had with them. What the fuck is going on?”

It's suffocating how fast your brain spins to make sense of it all. Trying to remember while the weight of his emotions makes a cyclone crash into you. It’s not fair that his eyes are boring into you, scanning for a lie.

Oh, Christ. That moment with Rudy. It almost feels shameful to know that he had seen it, and watched the intimacy between someone you trust. But the anger at Price for now approaching you like this, like he cared, outweighs everything.

“That wasn’t anything. It wasn’t even a thing.” Hissing back, gaze unmoving from his while puffing yourself up in defense. “It was a small pick me up.”

Price's expression turns dark. For a moment, all you can hear is the light humming above you.

“I saw it. Plain as day, Saint. The whole team did.” You feel the pressure on your body getting firmer. “Do you know how fucking embarrassing that is? Seeing you act like a little slut for all to see?”

If it wasn’t for the anger boiling in your veins, you’d be turned on by how degrading he is.

So, you play his game.

“Oh I see.” A silent grin haunts your lips. “You jealous, Price?” Tilting your head up before he reaffirms his hold on your jaw. “Didn’t like how he touched me?”

You can see how close he is to doing something, being on the edge of a tipping point you don’t know of. The anger floods into you, making your own emotions match. The previous submission evaporates into a storm of fury, potent enough that your tail twitches aggressively against the wall.

“You’re really askin’ for it, ain’t cha?” He fumes. Breath fanning across your lips, the heat makes you lick your own. The buckle of his belt presses against your stomach, and you wonder if it’ll leave a mark with how much he pushes onto you. “Say that again, I dare you."

The heated air between you charges something greater than your dream ever did on him, heavier than any touch you’ve felt by his hands. So, you do what he asks.

“Are you jealous, Captain?”

Before you take your next breath, his thumb moves to invade your mouth; Pressing against the backside of your lower teeth, he opens your mouth for you while leaning to speak against your ear.

“You think I don't know what kind of games you’re playing, right? Tha’ I don’t see how you’re acting right now?” The brush of his beard itches your right cheek. And god damn this forsaken man, your panties are already soaked from the feeling.

Your jaw is still trapped in his hold, not allowing you a noise besides the garbled mess of a protest.

“You’re trying to piss me off right now so I punish you, and give you the satisfaction you want eh?”

You’d argue that it didn’t start that way, but now he’s certainly correct. “Keep acting like a child and you’re gonna be treated like one. Demon brat.”

Had it not been for the use of that insult, you could have forgotten that you were mad in the first place. Saliva pools in your mouth, and you can see his eyes dart down at the stand that drops onto your shirt.

You remind him of your fangs with a curl of your upper lips.

Seemingly reigning himself in, he releases his hold but lets his thumb remain on your bottom lip as you swallow.

“You want me to behave?” Inhaling shakily, as if high on a stim, your head tilts back to match his glare. “You gonna keep me on a leash? Make sure I’m by your side so my tail only wags for you?”

Price raises his eyebrow at that and somehow you feel like you’ve just let him win.

"You'd love that, wouldn't you?" His expression transforms into something more dangerous; A small smile curls on the corner of his mouth. "To be my little demon dog, staying by my feet, always ready to obey. Is that what you're after, Saint?"

Your hands move from the wall to instead find the meat of his hips, digging into his jeans with the tips of your nails. Pressing against him to stand on your tip-toes, the pressure of your hips together makes you bite down a groan, feeling a flicker of his arousal inlet to you.

“I’m not your little bitch.”

“You’re not?” He drawls, looking at you in fake surprise. The hand previously on your shoulder moves to your ass while he presses into you harsher.

"’Cause right now, you’re barking an awful lot with tha’ pretty little mouth of yours." He sneers, his hips grinding against yours forcing a gasp from you.

"And I think that pretty mouth of yours could make some different kinds of noises. Hm?"

At that, your head thuds against the wall. Fisting your hands onto his jeans, you don’t offer a response.

“Tsk. Gone quiet now?” His low laugh saturates your heart, the heat flowing to your core. To your surprise, he encourages your behavior. Lifting you with a hand under your ass with the other on your back, he turns to lay you on the conference table.

His erection grants you friction across your damp panties, good enough to almost sedate you in a drunken haze. When you prominently roll your hips against his straining cock, he groans loud enough to make him turn and bite his shirt.

“Maybe if you used me, I wouldn’t have to go bending over for anyone else.”

“You’re my operator. Your loyalty lies solely with me.” Snarling in a sharp contrast, a choleric look peers into you. “Is that understood?"

The drag of his beard across your cheek comes back, scratching your skin to bring you back from the feeling of his hardened cock rocking against your clit through your clothes. When you can only grunt in response, the hold on your jaw is the only warning before he kisses you.

Tongue diving in to meet your own, he dominates his way in while holding your jaw. Breaths borderline panting, the searing anger turning into a lustful spark, and fuck he tastes so good on your tongue. It almost dulls the meaning behind his words, of his claim and possession that comes to the surface. The feeling of submission comes to you again; Understanding that it's not you empathetically picking up on it, but rather the way your body wants to submit to his domineering energy.

His hand fists into your hair, holding you down as he licks into your mouth. You find your ground in the moment, kissing him back like a cannibal and expecting to see red smeared across each other's lips if he were to pull back.

“Show me you’re mine and I’ll give you what you want.” You can feel him start to leave you, his hold lessening to leave you on the table.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” A broken growl rumbles your chest, eyebrows furrowing as your jaw sets. Reaching out a hand to latch onto his belt, frustration glowing in your eyes.

He scoffs. Actually scoffs as he looks down with a twisted smile.

“Careful sweetheart. Don’t go ordering me around.” He easily shakes off your hand and greedily lets his eyes take in your body underneath him. It's uncomfortably tense as he grips your hip, moving to get off and away without a second thought.

The feeling of your pants tugging makes him stop.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding.”

Looking down, you both find you're stuck together; The button of your pants having looped into his belt buckle. It doesn't make any fucking sense whatsoever, but rather keeping his hips tilted against yours with the pull.

“Could be fucking. But not kidding.” You griped, not offering any assistance. Wanting to keep him there for longer, your hips buck up.

“Stop. Moving.” He hisses, adding emphasis as he smacks the top of your thigh. “I'm trying not to bloody rip it.”

“Just take it off.”

The whine comes unabashedly from you, childishly biting your lip as you laugh at him. His fingerwork is clumsy, unable to unhook the button from himself. Huffing, you swat his hands away to take over. “Let me-"

Your fingers fumble between the button seemingly wrapped around his belt buckle, weaving around the metal in a way unknown to either of you. You’d settle for divine intervention.

“How’s it so fucking tight-” His hand holds yours while he tries to pull free again, only to feel you’re still stuck.

“Ye sly. Old. Dog.”

The speed at which Price’s head whips back over his shoulder is almost concerning for a man his age. Had you not also immediately looked to see Soap standing at the door, staring with the proudest shit-eating grin, you’d have noticed the vein pumping in Price’s neck.

“Soap, ‘ave you gone daft? Get. Out.”

You can’t even respond as your jaw drops from the surprise. The man wolfishly snapping his eyes to find yours, and holding it with a tick in his jaw. Fuck, even he's aroused with the imagination of finding you and the Captain fucking. Without validating any part of the story, Soap darts away with the door clicking shut, Price aggressively pulls hard enough that you’re freed- clothing unscathed.

“That’s gonna be spread like wildfire now.” He busies himself with being sure his pants are on correctly and probably hiding any remnants of his hard-on. You let the silence hang while fixing yourself up, wanting to walk out of the room as if you weren't close to being fucked. Trailing your eyes over Price, he doesn't bother looking at you, but the subtle flush on the tips of his ears is there. An expert in hiding his emotions and blending in for whatever the social context calls for.

“Don’t act like that’s not what you want to happen.” Hopping off the table and heading to the door, he crowds you from behind. His warmth makes your hand pause on the door, feeling the draft of his breath skim your shoulder. The hair on the back of your neck stands up, sending an anxious chill down your spine. More and more it feels like you've lost your advantage with him.

“I don’t want an endless fling to become your permanence. To sustain you.” His hand wraps around your front, securing a place on your neck.

“I want to drown in you.”