#and it would have been horrible going in blind

[acotarxreader]

The Stray and The Snakes

Cassian x Reader

Synopsis: Your adjustment to the Night Court after meeting your Mate is made all the more difficult due to the unwelcoming nature of two particular sisters.

Orignal request: "Okay, so I have a request. Reader is mates with Cassian, and Nesta is like jealous or something. Nesta and Elain are horrible to the reader, like always putting her down. Reader tries not to let it bother her, and no one really notices until it finally does get to them and the inner circle does notice."

Warnings: Fluff, Nesta and Elain being meanies

A/N: Hehe my first Cassian request. This was a lot of fun to write, I hope people will forgive the Inner Circle for their blindness, Nesta and Elain are a real piece of work in this.

Let me know what you think!

p.s thank you for the love on Other Worlds, over a thousand of you have interacted with it, can't believe it!

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“It’s beautiful YN” 

“Do you think?” your hands traced down the front of the snowy dress, your head tilting to the side as you watched your own movement in the mirror. Feyre sat behind you on a blush-coloured pouffe, sweetly smiling in the reflection. 

“Do you think Cass will like it?” “Who cares what that big baby would like, do you like it YN?” your head tilted to the otherside before you span to face your fast-friend.

“I want him to like it” you admitted softly, Feyre unable to keep the roll away from her eyes as she stood, pulling your hands in hers. 

“You could walk into Starfall in a paper bag and your mate would love you in it. So, I’ll ask you again, do you like it?” a smile grew across your face to match Feyres as you nodded. 

“Great! Let’s wrap it up and head to the House of Wind” 

The both of you strolled across the city you had learned to call home, a far cry from the outskirts of the Autumn Court where you were born and raised. It had been six months since Cassian had rocketed into your world and changed it forever, meeting you while you worked as a cook in a grand house. The preparations for Starfall had sent the city into an excited frenzy and you couldn’t wait to experience it for the first time with your new family. 

“Feyre! There you are” Nesta’s voice sang out of her in excitement but it felt as though the tone was a snake heading for your feet. She looped her arm through her sister’s as the both of you entered into the House of Wind, pulling her away from your side, to walk ahead of you. 

“Where were you sister, Elain and I are just getting ready upstairs”

“I was helping YN find something to wear for tonight for her to feel beautiful-” “-as if you could find anything that would help that” she laughed out, the snake climbed its way around you further. Feyre rolled her eyes with a small laugh, brushing off her sister's words as you fought your faltering smile.

“She found a lovely dress, didn’t you YN?” She called back to you as the three of you entered the main living area of the house.

“Ye-” “-Feyre! How could I forget to tell you, I found the perfect shoes for tonight, come on I’ll show” you huffed out slightly, familiar with Nesta cutting across you. Nesta spun on her heels to face you, causing you to almost walk directly into her with the abrupt stop of movement.

“Something the matter YN?” she almost bit out, the snake of words wrapping around your throat. Feyre had crossed the floor towards her own mate who beamed at her.

”N-no Nesta” 

“I didn’t think so, go make yourself useful, go help the other staff, back to your true calling” whispering at the end so only you could hear. 

“I-” “-My love, there you are!” Cassian's voice pulled the imaginary snake from around your airways, returning lightness to your chest as he met your side, his arm wrapping around from behind. Nesta’s face softened and a smile you knew to be laced with simmering irritation crossed her face.

“You're so kind YN for offering” Your eyes snapped from your shoes back to Nesta.

“Offering what?” Cassian kissed your cheek gently, his hand moving from your waist to lace with your fingers.

“Well, your lovely stray has offered to help with the setup of dining room! Right YN?” Her sickly sweet words turned in your stomach as Elain joined her side to collect her sisters and return to getting ready for the party.

“Oh, really YN you don't have to”

“I-”

“Cass, let her help, she probably craves the familiarity of a dirty apron” Poison-coated words dripped from Elain but shielded behind a smile. You looked to your mate standing behind you, his genuine well-meaning grin warming you despite the cold environment Nesta and Elains’ presence had swaddled you in. You were finding settling in around the two sisters especially difficult, your arrival had halted the friends-with-benefits situation between Cassian and Nesta and this had led to some deep-rooted resentment from the latter. Elain joining the cause in some sort of sick solidarity with her sister. 

That had decided your plans, afraid to contradict Nesta, with the mentality of service in the Autumn Court of being seen and not heard, very difficult to unravel yourself from. 

-

By the time you had finished setting up, the inner circle had finished readying themselves. You met Cassian on the stairs as you rushed to get yourself ready.

“My love, are you alright?” His hands cupped around your face as his lips pecked your forehead with the utmost of tenderness.

“Yes Cass, just finished with the table, you look so handsome” You held his wrists as his thumbs brushed across your cheeks. 

“Thank you! I can't wait to see your dress…and see it again on our bedroom floor later” he laughed as you rolled your eyes at him. He kissed your forehead again before releasing your face with softness, his brothers appearing on the landing behind him, guests beginning to arrive. You marvelled at the three Illyrians before rushing yourself up the stairs to change. 

By the time you had built up the courage to leave your bedroom, the party was in full swing. Fae seemed to flow from every corner of the bustling House as you found Feyre glowing alongside her mate on the outskirts of the courtyard where the festivities were bursting to life. 

“YN, you look dazzling”

“Thank you High Lord” You did a small curtsey and Feyre elbowed Rhysand cutting off his building laugh. 

“YN how many times have I to tell you, please call me Rhys” he offered you his hand to help you rise from your curtsey as your cheeks flushed.

“She can't help that she's built to serve” The two mates laughed at Nesta's joking tone from behind you, its undertone of sincerity not lost on you. 

“Nesta you lo-look lovely” you offered like so many white flags you had beforehand. 

“And you look clean for once”

“Nesta” Feyre laughed out a half warning, carrying no weight. The group had chosen to believe that Nesta's relentless snipping at you was more like she was hazing you instead of its true goal to wear you down. 

“I-I must find Cass, the migration starts soon” You bowed your head slightly to the three, out of sheer habit, gaining a snide laugh to leave the eldest Archeron sister. 

“Oh he went down the side corridor” Elain offered with a smile that didn't meet her eyes as she joined her sister's side. You gave a somewhat thankful smile and began to make your way in the direction she sent you. You felt suddenly pairs of hands collide with your side, pushing you with harsh force into a service pantry of the hallway, the door closing behind you.

Your hip met the tile floor of the cupboard with force, your arms instinctively going outwards to the shelves lining the walls, sending various cooking powders and syrups down on top of you. You gave a small shriek in pain and shock as the sound of two laughing females on the other side of the door spat venom in your ears. 

“Hey! Hey you guys let-let me out!” You pushed shakingly from the floor, palms splaying against the solid wood of the locked door. The laughing grew distant until dissolving completely and you found yourself sitting back down on the cold, food-covered floor. You fought back tears as you tried to swipe the savoury and sweet additions to your dress from the fabric, the dark of the room holding you close. 

“YNN!” You heard your mate's voice call out through the hall, giving you the strength to call back, trying to keep the shake from your voice. 

“YNN! What the fuck?!” The light flooded the small space, Cassian's eyes landing on his beautiful mate, sat in a ball at his feet. He dropped down to his knees, beginning to sweep away the floury coating.

“I-I-” The thoughts of the truth ran around your mind, would he even believe you if you told him? Did you want to risk finding out if he'd choose them over you? Or what if he did believe you and it ruined the family dynamic you knew he had spent his whole life craving? “-I…was looking for the bathroom” you offered as he stood, pulling you back up to your feet. 

“The bathroom?” He raised an eyebrow at your obvious lie, a faux smile painting across your face. You looked down at your destroyed dress, the tears once again threatening to add to the scene. 

“You-you look beautiful YNN” his eyes traced the stained fabric, a thumb brushing over the last remaining flecks of flour on your face. 

“I'm covered in food Cass” Your genuine smile returned.

“Just makes you even more delicious” he kissed wholly then, the taste of him took any bitterness from you. 

“C’mon, let's get you changed” he separated from you, his hand slotting into yours as you both traipsed back up the hallway. 

To get to your chambers, the main foyer had to first be transversed, the inner circle gathering there before going out to enjoy the spectacle in the sky together. You stepped slightly behind Cassian as you walked closer to the stairway, hoping to be able to sneak past the group.

“Ah Ah, you guys! We all promised we would watch this Starfall together, you can have sex after!” Mor laughed from behind you, your feet having only spent a moment on the bottom step. You reluctantly turned back to face the full group, Cassian instinctively standing to shield you from their eyes.

“YN and I will just be a moment”

“Yeah, I heard that's all you can last” Azriel laughed, the group following suit as Cassian shot his brother a playful death stare. Nesta sauntered over to the two of you, her hand landing gently on Cassian's shoulder, pushing him to the side, revealing the full picture of your ruined look.

“YN, what happened!?” Feyre looked you over, a bruise beginning to grow across your elbow.

“I-”

“It's obvious our little YN couldn't help but get involved in the kitchen” Nesta remarked, turning back on her heels, happy to watch the gawking take place. 

“I think it improves her outfit”

“Definitely Elain, anything would improve that tarp she's wearing” the two snickered, the group unsure of the sharp tones of the two sisters, too shocked at the brashness of the females. 

“That's not very kind of you two” Cassian felt himself bite out, the maroon now painting across your face as Cassian's hand held yours tighter.

“Oh Cass please, how could we ever match your level of charity, taking in such a lost cause” the group's heads snapped to the uncharacteristic bitterness dripping from Elain.

“I mean honestly Cassian, when are you going to wake up and realise she's never going to fit in here!” Nesta's sharp words gave life to the internal doubt you fought daily and you couldn't hold it back anymore, your tears flowed freely, having spent months being kept just below the surface. You dropped your mate's hand, catching the end of your long ruined gown and darting up the stairs in awash of pure heartbreak. You heard the beginning of Feyre and Rhysand reprimanding the sisters, with Mor and Azriel joining in, the agile footsteps of your mate echoing behind you. 

You crashed into your shared bedroom, wrenching the hair clips from your hair before running your hands across your tear-soaked cheeks. You had practically prised the stained fabric from your skin as your mate's knuckles rapped against the door. 

“YN let me in” You ignored his desperate tones, choosing to clothe yourself in trousers and a loose top before beginning to collect your things from around the room. The sound of Cassian's hammering had stopped along with his calling. You exhaled deeply before continuing to pack up your space. 

“YN!” You screamed with fright at the sight of Cassian closing the distance between you both, having landed on your balcony. He pulled the bundle of clothing you had grasped in your hands, tossing them aside before gripping your upper arms with a gentle firmness. 

“My love, please please stop”

“You heard them! I don't belong here, they're only saying what you're all too cowardly to admit!” You managed between falling tears, Cassian's heart beginning to shatter in his eyes at the sight. 

“YNN, you know it's biologically impossible for an Illyrian to be a coward” You felt a slight laugh leave you at his joking tone. His hands moved from your arms to wrap around you, pulling you flush with his chest where you could clearly hear his trembling heart beneath his midnight blue suit. 

“No one thinks what they said is true my love, they must have eaten something poisonous or something” You pulled back to look at your mate in his hazel eyes, it was clear to you from his words that he had not been aware of their historical treatment of you. 

“Cass-Cass they always say stuff like that” you managed to rattle out. You could see the rose-tinted glasses shattered in front of his eyes beneath his furrowed brow, reevaluating every interaction he'd seen between you and them before tonight.

“Gods…” he released you from his arms, standing back to run his hands down his face in disbelief at his blindness. 

“YN, I am sorry, I'm so so sorry for not seeing before, what kind of mate am I for being so fucking blind” You step back towards him, relief rushing through you that he had believed you. 

“One who believes the best in people” your hand ran down his cheek.

“I never thought I'd miss something like that”

“It's okay Cass, I'm sure you never thought they could be like that”

“No, it's not okay, it's not okay at all” his eyes darting across your face, the true reality he'd not been privy to before making him feel instantly ill.

“Cass, I love you, it's okay”

“It's not okay YN!” His raised voice surprised you slightly as he moved towards the bedroom door again.

“Cass, where are you going?”

“To defend you, I'm just sorry I didn't do it earlier, they will be sorry for this” His unfamiliar coldness stunned you almost as much as the sudden sparkling out of the corner of your eye. You looked to see the migration decorate the sky with a level of beauty you had never seen before. 

“Cass…please stay with me for this, I want to experience this with you” You manage to tear your gaze away from the view to land back on Cassian as he seemingly reluctantly removed his hand from the doorknob.

“Of course” he said with an almost sad smile, reaching for your hand to bring you to the balcony. You both looked up in comfortable silence at the glimmering skyscape, a genuine smile growing on your face. Cassian couldn't help but look down at you with pure unadulterated love, his annoyance that he didn't see the torment you had been under sooner. 

“You’re my everything, my love” 

“And you're mine” You leaned into his side.

“If there's anything left of those two downstairs by the time Feyre is done, I promise I'll make them understand their grave error in hurting you” 

“I don't expect much to be left” you laughed, the sound releasing pressure from Cassian's chest. You both stood on the balcony marveling at the glorious sight above you, unable to image being anywhere else with anyone else.

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

Whatcha think?

[eventidesworld]

This is kind of a long post/rant so... you don't have to read it.

Anyway, so I've heard some people over the years of Grishaverse time claiming Kanej and Helnik as toxic couples or Kaz and Matthias as bad, unacceptable people.

First of all, this makes me very, very sad. Second, I will address my defence for each couple.

Helnik

The main complaint for this one is that 'he tried to kill her.' Now hear me out. Matthias had spent a long time in Hellgate and he recently killed three wolves, which are sacred animals to Fjerda. From his point of view, it looked like Nina had betrayed him, he didn't know about her ulterior motivation, so obviously, when he woke up, his first instinct wasn't going to be a huge hug or a kiss, it was rage. He was driven mad because of his prison. He wasn't the Honourable Fjerdan Matthias Helvar we all know and love, he was a rabid animal made out of a horrible fate that involved lots of killing and violence.

And then his prejudice against Grisha.

You heard me right... ✨PREJUDICE✨

Propaganda, rumours, brainwashing. Things that have been going on and on for years and years. And when a person is brainwashed for that long, it's hard to let go of those thoughts. But isn't that the whole purpose of Matthias's journey? A redemption arc that allows him to see the errors of his ways and change his perspective. Even Nina didn't actually accept Matthias until he proved that he could be a better person, she didn't run to him until he saved her from those Grisha prisons at the Ice Court. And by the time CK came around, Matthias was back to his normal self. The one that is kind, mature, brave, honourable, strong, despises violence and loves Nina with all his heart. In fact, he was one of the biggest reasons why Nina managed to overcome her drug addiction.

I have also seen a lot of the older readers of SOC saying that 16 and 17-year-olds turn blind eyes to the character's behaviours for the sake of the ship. THEY DON'T!!!! They know perfectly well what's happening and whether it's right or wrong. And they certainly don't tolerate Matthias's behaviour, they're not stupid. But Matthias is forgiven because he changes.

And one more thing... what part of ENEMIES TO LOVERS or FICTIONAL COUPLE went over your head?

Kanej

And now this one, which hurts me more because they're my all time favourite ship.

Kaz was far from the best lover in the beginning. He was wrong to claim that she was replaceable, nobody tolerates that. We may joke about it, but we never romanticize it. We know he's stupid.

But you want to know what makes this NOT toxic? Kaz and Inej's awareness of the situation as proved by these quotes...

"He needed to tell her what? That she was lovely and brave and better than anything he deserved. That he was crooked, twisted, and wrong but not so broken that he couldn't pull himself into some semblance of a man for her. That without meaning to, he'd begun to lean on her, to look for her, to need her near. He needed to that her for his new hat."

"I will have you without armour, Kaz Brekker, or I will not have you at all"

They are both perfectly aware. Kaz knows he doesn't deserve Inej and Inej also knows that she deserves better than him. If Kaz wants to be with her, he has to pull his shit together first. And he does just that. When he saves her from Van Eck, when he tells her that he would crawl for her even if she was of no use to him, when he makes her use the net despite the risks, when he sells every asset he ever owned to pay off her contract, when he bandages her wounds and kisses her neck, when he helps her up at the Emerald Palace, when he gives away some of his precious kruge to buy her an entire war ship, when he holds her hand without any barrier of leather, when he reunites her with her parents, when he braces his body around hers to hold her up when she's about to fall from pure euphoria despite his touch problem, and when he lets her go because he'd rather see her freely pursue her dreams than behold her to him, even if it meant that she'd would be far away from him.

Kaz never started perfect, but throughout the story, he shows both Inej and the reader that he can change. And he does more for Inej that he had to. It's even been hinted several times that he and Inej had known each other for years. They had each others' backs, looked out for one another, protected each other, sat in his office and solved murder mysteries and schemed for hours and hours, spent entire nights beside each other rushing from one place to the next and spying while lying on their bellies and looking through a long glass, fought together and comforted each other and he carried her... they did everything. And while doing that, they forged this deep emotional bond, this undying steel loyalty, this unspeakable trust, this hidden language that they could speak with simple eye contact.

"He had been so much of her world for so long" (This quote broke me btw)

Beloved Grishaverse, none of the Crow couples were ever toxic 😭

Yes, they have had their ups and downs, but hey, that's the whole point of a story, is it not? It's meant to be messy and twisty with immense struggle because the more angst, the better. You can't seriously expect Leigh to write these book couples completely perfect, could you?

Those of you who read all this, you are the best people on this planet!

[darkrunsout]

Why is it that every time I'm looking forward to a new season of a show (which rarely happens in the first place these days), they manage to completely fuck it up in a way that I don't even want to watch the new season anymore?

[androgynouspenguinexpert]

another blake because he's my favourite for psychoanalysis reasons <3

[reflectionsofgalaxies]

god fucking damnit

[manygreetingsfriend]

was wondering why i was feeling so weird abt aligning w/ my mom over something then remembered i don’t trust that bitch at all lmao!!!

[snorfbin]

.

[venmondiese]

A Cure For A Bad Day

Summary: Aemond has one of his worst days ever, nothing seems to go right. At night, at least, he gets the company of his new wife as he bathes.

Based on Ewan Mitchell's and TGC 'Scene Reactions' when he says "When we did that scene, when he had the rain machine going in, the dye on the eyepatch... it just stained the wig"

✧Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader ✧Warnings: MDNI 18+, p in v sex, bath sex, breeding kink, overall very sweet, aemond discovering feelings. ✧Word Count: 5.2k ✧ Ao3 link: here ✧gifs: by myfandomprompts

Aemond is known for many things. He is fierceless, perfectionist, well trained with the sword, and bold. Those things he was proud of. 

And all those things, he was not today.

He trained by morning, and Criston Cole was waiting for him. The sword felt slightly different on his hand, weird, but he just took it that he slept badly and that's why his arm felt numb. 

Now, after losing his eye, he had to learn things differently. He had a considerably big blind spot, and so he learned how to keep it aware of his surroundings as training with the sword. Yet, those things do not have in mind the little rocks on the ground, which he stepped on and twisted his ankle as he tried to defend Ser Criston’s attack.

And with that, he twisted his ankle and slightly cut his hand. 

He was annoyed, but he tried not to pay attention to it. A silly mistake. The rock was on his blind side, how could he notice? It was a rookie mistake, and it burned his cheeks to remember it. 

By the evening, after eating, he decided to ride Vhagar. His girl liked long rides, not so fast but more calm, and prowling around the crownlands skies.

 He did not anticipate the rain. 

For some reason or another, Vhagar was as grumpy as him, and she did not seem to want to go over the clouds in the rain. No, she wanted full on take a bath on the rainfall.

And Aemond had to bear it. But what was worse was when he realised that his eyepatch had dyed his hair. He just picked the worst eyepatch today. 

His hair was slightly silver auburn, and just in some parts. He hated it, and it made his day ten times worse as he realised the eyepatch had been too tight, and it had been suffocating his scar without him realising. 

He had trouble with the sensibility on his left side of his face, and just today he put his eyepatch too tight. It made him furious.

And he decided to make it everyone’s problem. 

He was laying in the bathtub, next to the fire as he had a horrible headache. He came in, demanding a bath as the servants had to rush to get him hot water.

 He took his own clothes off, kicking his boots away, refusing any servants touch as he undoes his own leather jerkin, he unties his breeches, grunting and mumbling in frustration, hating each instance of this day. He thinks a bath will help him to relax even a bit. He just wanted to sleep, and end up with this horrible day. 

His scar itches, and it drives insane. It was as if the itchcame from the deep parts of his cheekbones and it drove him mad. He was at the edge of peeling his own skin to scratch his damn scar. 

Only in his undergarments, he ignores the chilling cold from the chamber, and he walks barefoot as the servants fill the bathtub with hot water. As hot as possible. He walks over the chimney, and throws the eyepatch in, hoping it burns in hell. 

His loose hair, tinted with the dye of the eyepatch. If he only knew who was the mastermind behind it, who decided to spend coins on it; he would kill them. And they better hope this stupid dye can get off with the bath, or head will start rolling. 

The water was hot, but he paid no mind. He liked boiling hot, and he sat against his as he let the attendant boy prepare scents and the oils to put on the water, and to wash him. Aemond didn’t allow him to wash him; yet. He wanted some moments of peace in the hot water, so he remained a good amount of time still.

“Bring me the ointment that Maester Orwyle prepared for my eye” Aemond’s voice is low, yet demanding as the boy gets out, not without bowing to the prince.

He waits, pinching the bridge of his nose as if that would calm his nerves, his headache. He believes it works, so he is focused on it, as he accommodates his legs on the water, trying to be relaxed.

Time is a bit dizzy, and when he hears the door open, he can hear the servants speaking hushedly, as if wanting him not to hear. Good, because he didn’t want to listen to them either. 

He can hear the little taps that the shoes do as the maid leaves the oils for his hair on a near table, and takes his hair on her hands, gently. He doesn’t turn to face her; he just wants the damn dye to get off. 

Hands wash his hair, and if he wants to relax, this is making it impossible. The little tugs and the awful way that scrubs his hair to take the dye off, and the weird caresses on his neck from time to time. 

“You are not doing correctly" he grumbles to the servant with closed eyes as his migraine is persistent. "Learn how to wash a prince's hair" he adds, sharply.

“Apologies” The voice comes as a murmur, a bit strained if even, as the hands go to his neck, and all the way up.

“My prince” He adds sharply, he cannot believe his luck today. “When you address a royal member of the Targaryen House, you use their title. My prince” he says, patronisingly and even angry. 

“Yes, my prince” a little cough at the end, he either thinks the maid is trying to hold back a laugh or embarrassment. Not that he cares, as he has his eye closed and a hand on his temple, his head resting on his hand, that caresses his forehead trying to get that awful headache away

Aemond's face was scrunched up in pain, as his eyes were closed. "Are you new at this? I swear... I am starting to believe that they are just sending me incompetent maids to attend to me..." the young prince groaned.

His body stiffens, as arms go to wrap his neck from behind, and before he can sit up properly, he feels the maid kiss his cheek lovingly as she giggles. “Apologies, my prince…” 

The voice is clear as day, and if his hand was going to fetch the little dagger on the table by his side, it stops. 

He turns his head to his right, seeing your wide smile as you wait for his reaction. He groans, rolling his eyes, which causes you to laugh loudly.

His new wife, she always liked to tease him and cling to him, always hugging him, taking his hand in hers or kissing him all over. He didn’t mind; he always allowed her even at court. But he won’t admit that he likes it too.

“Wife” he greets you as he sighs, and he feels your hand rubbing circles in the back of his neck. 

“I know, I do not know how to wash hair. You’ve made it completely clear”

“I thought you were a servant” he says, looking at her. “You are a highborn lady, you don’t need to know how to.”

“True…” you say, moving some of the wet hair out of his face, and squeezing it so it isn’t dripping. “I heard that my prince had a horrible day, and he was in a bad mood. Servants do talk, you know…” you say looking at him with a smile “Wanna tell me about it?”

Aemond sighs and looks at you, as you take the sponge to wash his body. He sighs as you pour some of the water in his chest and start scrubbing softly.

“"A terrible day... I stepped on a rock, and twisted my ankle and cut my arm in the process... Then i wanted to relax with a ride on Vhagar, but it started to rain, the fucking dye of the eyepatch got all over my hair and eye.. I have the worst migraine now..." his voice is rough, and he seems annoyed at the memory of it. “And I haven’t seen you as much as I’d like”

It wasn’t the worst day he has ever lived. Maybe. When he lost his eye it could be the top one. He won Vhagar, at the cost of his eye. It was an amazing thing, traded for the worst thing that has ever happened to him. He was still living the consequences of it today, as his scar stinged on his skin.

“Not your best day, I see” you say softly, scrubbing his chest. He enjoys it, as he looks at you, leaning back in the bath as you scrub his chest. “I’m sorry to hear it”

“I don’t need pity” 

You chuckle “It is not pity” you say softly, looking at your husband. “What can I do to make you feel better?”

Aemond stays silent. He is not used to someone caring about him like this. Sure, his mother cared for him, and so did Helaena But not like this. 

“Be by my side”

The silence is a bit comforting, as you wash his body. He looks at you deeply, and he cannot help but think how stunning you are. You didn’t find any discomfort in washing him, in caring and tending to him. You never once seem disgusted by his lack of eye, by his empty eye socket, or his ugly scar. Never once you discarded him. 

It was more than often that you placed the ointment prepared by maester Orwyle on his eye, his scar, where his nerves were permanently damaged and they brought discomfort to him. You never once complain.

“You look different” he says, looking at you in the dim lights of the room.

“Different how?” you ask, as you finish brushing his hair, making sure the dye is almost completely getting off his wet hair. He has little curls, which makes you smile like an idiot.

“I do not know. Shining. Radiant. Lovely.” He murmurs, moving one of his wet hands to tickle a strand of hair on your ear. “Different”

“So I usually do not look radiant or lovely…”

“Not what I meant” he groans and you chuckle softly. “You were sick. Now you look much better in… spirits.”

“You look different too” You say looking at him with a smile. Your eyes fall to his chest, and you smile. He notices how you get flustered at the sight of his nakedness. 

“More wounded” he says ironically, leaning back with a sigh. 

“Stronger” you correct him smiling. “More… mhm. I’d say more… Hot”

“You think I am hotter when I'm wounded?”

“Not what I meant” you say chuckling under your breath, “I meant… I like seeing you like this... Leaning back is so... manly, and hot…" 

“Oh, do you?” he asks slightly amused, leaning back still as he looks at you, nodding and smiling. Aemond frowns a bit, and he hisses then you accidentally hit his new wound on his wrist. 

“Sorry, love” you say, kissing his hand, and smiling. “You know, when I was little they cured my wounds like this. With a kiss”

“Did they?” He asks, trying to remain interested even with his headache. 

“Yes. Like this” She says kissing near his wound, a very feather-like kiss. “See? Does it feel better?”

You look at him with an adorable expression, as if you truly think that this would make him feel better. Aemond blinks, as he looks at you. 

It ticks him the wrong way that you care about him. Why would you? Perhaps it is a womanly thing. He wasn’t so sure. Perhaps as his wife, it is your burden, having to make a maimed man feel better. 

The prettiest maiden in court, chained to a maimed man, deformed and always wounded, stuck in the pain of his eye to see beyond. Wasting your best years with him. 

And he cannot decipher why.

“Aemond?” You ask as he trails off. 

“Yeah” he clears his throat, awkwardly, and he moves his legs a bit. “I guess so” 

“Where else does it hurt?” You ask sweetly.

He sometimes hates how kind you can be, he doesn’t know what your upper intentions are, but after all, you are his wife even if he can’t decipher you.

“Well, my eye, obviously…” he says a bit embarrassed “And… my left foot, I guess. And my arm, because I slept on it… and…”

You nod, looking at him as he speaks. He is intimidated, he realises. You make sure to hear all of what he has to say, with your sweet eyes. 

You move to the end of the bathtub, and move to kiss his ankle softly, no complaints, no hesitation. Nothing… odd, about it. Only out of tenderness. You kiss his shoulder, and his left cheekbone, softly, to make sure it doesn’t burn on his skin. He just lets you, because it makes you happy, thinking that it helps.

And he doesn’t realise that it actually helps him, in a way. The smile on your face makes him smile too, and he sighs.

“Better?” 

“Mhm” he hums in agreement, looking at your face. “Better when you're with me, yes” 

He is utterly head over heels for you, even if he isn’t good with feelings. He loves you, even when he seems slightly annoyed by you. 

“And you?”

“And me?” You ask curiously.

“You were sick. Coughing like crazy, and all your body ached.” he says softly, “in confinement, away from me… Do you truly feel better?”

“I am better. Lady Westerling got all of us sick” you say with a slight smirk. “my body still aches a bit, but it’s…” you hesitate a bit, slightly nervous.

“Then join me” he interrupts, moving to try and get you in the bathtub with him. "The hot water will do good to you..."

"It will burn my skin, I hate how hot you take these baths..." you protests, moving his hands off your waist as he tries to pull you in.

"The Blood of the Dragon, wife" he says smugly, smirking. "It is cold, anyways. It is barely warm"

"You like it boiling hot" You say smiling to him, and he presses a kiss on your jaw.

"I do, indeed." He admits "Come on, get in with me"

“Aemond, my nightgown…” you protest, and he rolls his good eye.

“You have others, let it get wet” You seem to give in, as he helps you get in, holding your hand as you enter the bathtub. “It will do good to your aches.” He insists, taking your waist in his hands to place you on his lap.

“I think it is an excuse” you say, blushing a bit as you accomodate on his lap.

“A good one, you must admit” he says looking at you, and he passes his hands all the way up to your back.  “But an innocent one, I must admit” he says, and you tilt your head as if asking him to elaborate “I don’t think I am up for anything, I am too tired for it”

You hum, his still wet hair made him look almost cute. His little curls...

“The dye came off” you say, as he leans to kiss your neck a bit. “I can go to the tailor and ask them to make another eyepatch one for you. More fancy. With real leather. Maybe add some fancy dragon scales in it” 

“Hm. Fine” he says looking up at you, smiling at how delicious you were. He places a kiss on your hand, and he smiles. “What is bothering you?”

You stay still, blinking a bit. “Court. Ladies… at court. They don't seem to like me much. I mean, they like me but I always feel excluded. Like I am doing too much for them to like me”

Aemond looks at you, a bit surprised by it. He places his hands on your waist, and he certainly was thinking about how to comfort you. He wasn’t a court charmer either, so he hummed.

“I thought you had friends.” 

“I do… I guess. They just never seem to think of me when doing things. They do not hate me, no… I am the new one…, and so they just…. Don’t include me”

“I’ll include you” he states nodding. “I’ll bring you with me everywhere. Training, riding Vhagar, in the library, all of it.” He proposes softly. 

“Hm. It would be pleasant.”

You smile softly, your hands, now wet and in the water, move from his abdomen all the way up to his chest.

Your husband was well fit. A prince of the realm, training with the sword since he was little. He practised almost every day, and was very detail-oriented in his field. And that paid off, as he was lean; yet muscular. 

You two were still newlyweds. Maybe three months since you two married, and things were a bit awkward still. You tried to decipher his odd behaviour and he tried the same with yours, starting to know each other personally, yet there was a bond, a silent affection you both shared for the other.

His body felt warm. He had stayed at the bathtub for Gods know how many hours, and he was all wet and shiny. You hand caressed his muscles, going up from his abdomen to where his wispy chest hair were. 

“What is in your mind?”

You hum, and smile “How handsome my husband is” you murmur “How good he is to me…” you add “How much I truly like you…”

Aemond raises his eyebrows, and he looks at you as your hand caress his torso up and down, slowly, as if you were tempting him. 

“Oh?”

You nod softly, and even if he doesn’t know you too well; he knows this face.

You move to kiss his neck, your arms wrapped around his torso as you leave little kisses all over his skin. He chuckles a bit, at your little desperation for the demonstration of love, you were such a physical person for him. 

“Darling, what are you-”

“I just missed you” You say, and he can see in his head the pout you would form if you weren’t so eagerly kissing his neck. 

He chuckles as his hand holds your waist firmly on his lap, and he leans his head back, facing the ceiling as you two spoke. “Very eagerly, I see” 

“You are tired. But let me…” 

Your arms wrapped around him, holding him as you press gentle kisses there, and he smiles, starting to feel the boiling arousal in his abdomen, looking at the ceiling as if it could distract his mind. 

“Very well” 

His arms went to the edges of the bathtub, as he felt the fabric of the nightgown against his chest, and he certainly was starting to enjoy the constant nibbling and wetness of your kisses. 

Aemond lets out a quiet groan, enjoying the gentle bites at his neck, as he feels his neck a little warmer. “You little minx- Did you just give me a hickey?”

Your giggle tells him all, as you move your lips to the start of his clavicle. His good eye closes as he enjoys the way your mouth feels against his sensitive skin. 

“You are simply… delicious” you murmur, your kisses going lower to his chest, before stopping a moment.

“Do not tell me you want to leave a hickey there…” He says, moving his head down to look at you.

As he imagined before, your mouth turns into a pout as you frown; most adorably he must add. 

“Oh, please! Let me try” You ask him “It is a way to show you that I missed you” You add, trying to convince him as he chuckles, making a mocking sound. 

Aemond rolls his eyes as he feels your eager mouth sucking the skin of his chest, as if he was some kind of… not even he knew. It felt strange. Worshiped and feral. That’s how it felt, at least for him.

Once you separate, you look at your work, your thumb moving along the bruised skin with a satisfied smirk. 

“Looks so good on you” you swear, as if it was a matter to be known. 

“If it makes you happy” he says, accommodating on his seat, the water moving along with him. “My turn, then?” 

You shake your head with a giggle “You always make it a mess!”

That he did, and he smiles a bit, seeing the lack of lovemarks of your neck.

It is you who eagerly kiss him, and press your body to his, as if needing him. He isn’t one to complain, as he feels your eager lips pressing against his and your tongue invading his mouth. Rather bold, to his taste. But he likes it.

Your hands on his shoulder make their slow way down, passing temptingly slow from his chest, to his abdomen. He gasps in the kiss, as if he was some kind of maiden, when he feels your hands underwater on his crotch and touching his cock. 

He frowns a bit as he separates, trying to demand an answer. “Wha-” he tries to ask before you shut him up with a kiss, not even letting him speak.

Rather eager, aren’t we… He thinks, but he isn’t one to complain, as your touch is like magic to his dick. In the water is odd, he has to admit, but his member thinks otherwise as he gets aroused from your eagerness.

You smooch him with kisses, and he feels… intimidated, in a good way. You don’t even allow him to breathe without going for another kiss, desperate. Feral.

He has a feral wife, it seems. 

“Darling, what are you…” he asks amused as you break the kiss, just to move your wet skirts all the way up, but he can’t see much of your pussy in the water, which he dislikes a lot. 

“I missed you” you repeat “A lot.” 

“It isn’t as if you were confined in a tower for years. It was barely two days. And I visited you-”

“I need you, husband” you state impatiently, as your knees move to the sides of his hips. “so, if you are tired, I’ll do it” 

He blinks, surprised and taken aback. He is rather amused and aroused, at his bold wife.

“Alright” he says, looking at you as you can do the work alone. 

He isn’t tired for sex, not at all. He can certainly get the energy, maybe not perform as usual, but he’ll do it if you ask. You didn’t even need to ask for it. But seeing you in control is better than that.

You rode him once, for later to admit that it wasn’t your favourite position, because you grew tired quickly. He didn’t mind, but now he thinks he’ll have you riding him at least once a week.

The way your dick enters your body is slow, as you slowly lower yourself on it. He can see your face contoured with pleasure, how you shut your eyes, and your hands grip on his shoulders as you whimper on it, you open your mouth and he leans to kiss your neck a bit, as if wanting to give back the affection you give him.

More than bounce on it, you find it more practical to grind on it. Your hands, that move between his waist and his shoulders, as if you didn’t know where to hold him to help you grind against his cock.

“That’s so good…” you whimper as you grind on his cock. 

The water moves around, the harder you grind, the harder it moves on the bathtub. He is even sure that some of it has overflowed the bathtub, as he looks at your pretty face, as you moan needily. His hand moved to pull down your nightgown, just enough to expose both of your tits in the firm fabric. He pulls it down to expose your shoulders a bit, and it is a sight that only arouses him more.

“It’s so good, baby?” He asks looking up to you, and he leans his head to kiss your nipple, gently. 

He knows you missed him. You are not rough, or a mess on his cock. You are doing it so prettily, so sweetly, he knows that you truly have missed him and his touch. 

“Yeah, so-so good.” You babber a bit, nodding as he kisses your other breast softly. He does not hold you, he has his hand on the back, trying to keep him firm as you ride him. 

His right hand holds your waist, as he notices. Your arms are on his shoulders as you whimper and moan, grinding him, not even minding the water around.

He has to admit, in the bathtub isn’t as comfortable as outside of it. The water doesn’t help to be smoother, if anything, he has the impression it does the contrary. It may be just him, as you don’t say anything against it.

“So eager, baby…” he says amazed, and now he feels like the one worshipping you. He just adores you, he realises, as he sweetly talks you through it “You just needed me, this badly?” He asks, kissing your jaw.

The little nods you give him are enough to get him moving his hips slowly up to meet your little grinds and bounces.

He kisses your breast again, and the other, and the other. He adores you, how the little mewls from your mouth are so arousing for him as you clench your pussy around him. 

“Aemond…” you whine. “Feels.. amazing, so good...” you repeat, as if you couldn't think of anything else, as he looks up to you. 

 He is just surprised you have gotten this far without begging him to take control. They way he’d take your waist and flip you around, to make you hold the other edge of the bathroom, just to take you from behind, again, and again, and again. The water would overflow the bathtub completely, and his seed would be securely in your womb. 

But you don’t ask him, and he doesn’t do it. He likes the sweetness of it. He likes how you look at him needily for both of your lips to meet on a kiss, passionate as your bounces and grind are slightly weaker. 

“My special girl…” he murmurs, kissing you again and again, not minding if they are pecks or if he has the opportunity for his tongue to play with yours. “I love you”

You nod, whimpering and whining as you say it back. I love you, I love you, I love you. Again and again, as if it was some prayer.

“Aemond” you moan into his mouth, 

“I know. Can you feel how good you take me?” He asks softly, kissing your chin, as he holds your waist to help you bounce on his cock. The splash of the water amuses and arouses him, and he groans at the sight of your nightgown fully soaked, glued to your figure.

“Mhm. Yes, yes, Gods, yes” you said, probably numb and already cockdrunk, just enjoying the feeling of his cock so deep inside.

“You want me to fill you, hm? To make you round with my seed, baby?” He asks, looking at you, moving to kiss your neck. 

He is also rambling at this point, as you squeeze him in the perfect way, asking to be filled with cum. He ignores how the water splashes his chest and back, how it is practically soaking the carpet under the bath, and making a mess. He has to remember how wet it might be so you two don’t slide on the floor. 

“Aemond, I… oh, Gods, Aemond!”

You little moans are music to his ears, as he holds your waist to move you down to his cock, to his taste. Not as rough as usual, but certainly desperate enough to want to cum.

“Will you cum for me, darling?” He asks, as he feels your hips grinding more desperately on him, and he throws his head back on the edge as he feels his balls tighten as well. You did wonders on him. “Cum for me and I’ll fill you up as you so much like” he promises, almost feral for you to cum. 

Your release made him moan, loudly, as he held you tight on his cock as he cums as well. He looks lazily at you, panting and whimpering still, which only serves to fuel the last remains of arousal on his abdomen, filling your womb with his cum. He hopes it takes root  and to see you grow pregnant as moons pass by.

“Thank you” you say, breathless against his chest, kissing his cheek sweetly. 

He smiles a bit, by how pleasure drunk you obviously were. He moves you slightly, to pull out from you and accommodate you on his chest, which you take comfort in. “Nothing to be thankful for. I thank you. Having sex is rather… good for when one had a bad day” he says smiling. 

You smile, and look at him, caressing his chest as you remain in this position, calmly breathing as he tries to stop panting. 

“Have I made it better?” You ask, softly, looking up to him.

He chuckles softly, almost amused by how ridiculous the question was.

“Just by having a sight of you, you make my day better” he says. 

Even if he was new to this whole marriage thing, even if sometimes he didn’t know you that well as your ladies-in-waiting and sometimes just allowed you to be even if it bothered him. He didn’t understand you most of the time, but he certainly adored you, very dearly. 

“I can make it even better” you say almost proudly, and he raises his eyebrow, looking at you laying on his chest. The water wasn’t even hot anymore, but more cold than he could bear. 

“Oh, how so?” He asks amused. “Did you claim a dragon? Only that can top the amazing moment that we just-”

“I am with child” you say simply, looking at him with a smile. 

He stops on his tracks, and looks at you as he takes in what you said. He blinks, looking at you, and you smile awkwardly at him. Was he happy? The prospect always puts him in a good mood. But maybe it wasn’t as you thought? One thing was words, and other actions.

You watch his eye as he seems to have hundreds of thought per second, his face slight confused as he frowns a bit, before his lips turn into smile full of disbelief.

“Are you joking?” 

“No... Maester Orwyle informed me this morning” you say softly. “He says that probably our wedding night was fruitful. I don't know. I don't look that pregnant, after these months. We have to figure it out in these days, so we can see when the birth is due... It's funny, because at first we thought it was from the sickness, that I got the worst part… but I just happened to be sick and pregnant”

That's why Maester Orwyle looked at him with a slight smirk as he helped desinfect his arm after training. You probably asked him to keep the secret so you could tell him.

That's why there was something off about you. He couldn't get exactly what, but something was off. It made sense, how nervous you were and how you tried to tell him before, but he was a fool to not notice it.

“Oh, my love…” he says, as he wraps his arms around you, hugging you tightly to him. “Oh… I don’t… I... What can I even say to that?”

He is surprised, and he can’t believe it. You were pregnant. You actually were. His little offspring, growing in your womb right at this moment. Your stomach was not firm by any mean, he couldn't decipher it even if he liked so.

“That is… That is the best thing anyone has ever told me” he admits, chuckling a bit in surprise. “You are going to be a mother. And you are going to make me a father” 

"We are, indeed" You say smiling to him. "In some months, it will be me, you and a weeping babe"

He can feel his nose burn as he smiles, the image on his head as he forces himself not to cry of happiness, a weird chuckle comes out of his mouth.

"You are right" he says looking at you. "So, you are definitely moving to my chambers now, aren't you? No more personal chambers, no more confinement when sick. You are not leaving my side, not you or our little dragon" He states nodding, not for discussion. He can't have you just wandering around without him near to protect both of you.

He smiles, as you giggle. His day certainly got better, all thanks to you. His hands caress your back soothingly, as he is just... happy. He forgets about his horrible day, how his ankle still hurts or how his scar stings on his cheek and forehead as he smiles. What is that compared to the joy of knowing that he will be a father? A father to your children as well?

“Now, how come Lady Westerling got my pregnant wife sick?” he teases you as you roll your eyes. “She is in so much trouble, who does she think she is? Both my wife and my sweet baby? Oh, she is not going to see sunlight ever again-”

“Aemond!” you giggle, but he smooches your cheek with kisses that only makes your giggles grow louder.

[yuukiiqwq]

Satoru Gojo didn't believe he would ever fall in love. He didn't want to. Like c'mon, why would he want to do something like that? Love is a curse. A horrible curse, so why would he want to put himself through all that? That was before he met you.

You popped into his life and caused so much turmoil. You turned his life completely upside down. What was life like without you again? He can't seem to remember.

You had his heart racing uncontrollably, his face heating up, him acting nervous around you! Like c'mon! When has he ever been nervous? It's like you've put him under a spell where he couldn't help but look your way. Can't help but love you. His mind is always filled with you you you. How beautiful you look with the sunlight shining down on you, the cute expressions you make, the outfit you're wearing that just happens to match the color of his eyes. Your dazzling smile that is so blinding he swears he will go blind even with his sunglasses on. The sun is pathetic compared to how brightly you shine. And when you touch him? An act so innocently sweet has him sweating and blushing like a kid. His skin felt hot where you touched him. Like you have burned him, yet he can't help but want more. More more more.

He felt like he was suffocating. You were going to be the death of him. He swears it. You don't even know what you do to him. He's going to die, and it's all your fault. Why did you do this to him? Why did you make him a god damn lovesick fool? He absolutely hates it. But he loves the feeling you give him. Keep your eyes on him. Pay attention to him. Say his name. Touch him. Let him be yours. Let you be his. He wants– no, he needs it. He needs it like the oxygen he breathes. Sometimes he can't help but think you know what you're doing to him. The way you tease him and touch him. He was burning alive, and you were the culprit.

Satoru is greedy. He wants more from you. Needs more. He wants to hold you. Kiss you. Touch you. To just be with you until his last breath. His friends tease him by saying his pupils turn into hearts when he looks at you. Whether it's true or not, he doesn't care. You turned him into someone who wants love. Needs love. Love from you and only you. But love is still a curse. It was a horrible curse that had him feeling things he had never felt before.

He looked up from the bench when he heard you call his name. You were waving at him from afar as you started to make your way to him. Your smile is dazzling. Your presence is a god sent gift. You were, without a doubt, the love of his life. His one and only soulmate. He couldn't help the chuckle that escaped as he got up from where he seated to meet you halfway.

Whether you know it or not, even if you break his heart at the end, he was entirely yours.

[rellsingsovern]

you’ve been teaching a tiefling girl alongside a half orc boy for three years. he comes in on the first day singing under his breath and afraid to rage. she comes in on the second day with a bass guitar and a spitfire attitude.

she doesn’t trust you. you’re fond of her immediately.

you go through that year and the next in the same kind of pattern. she continues to talk about her rage and her yearning for justice and her ‘german shepard mode’ she assumes for her friends. she hires her detective friend to follow you around, says you’re suspicious and weird, but she still doesn’t go to her actual class.

he stays quiet and unassuming but he’s got enough natural talent that it only irks you a little that he doesn’t use his rage like you know he could. then he comes back junior year and asks to multiclass into artificer.

you refuse. he takes the classes anyway, and his grade drops to a C.

you would care more if the tiefling girl didn’t come to you asking about becoming a paladin of the war god’s wife, the war god who your family has pulled power from for generations, the war god who would soon be no more. it’s too easy to steer her away from doubt and into fire.

you wouldn’t need the weak frost genasi girl who refused the call. you wouldn’t need the soft highcourt boy who followed you like a sheep. here was one who understood how to use rage in all the ways the half orc never was able to.

you teach her to smite. she writes your name on the ritual scroll alongside the warlock teacher’s. you’re only a little pissed about it. you have everything you need.

you’re standing over her, a giant over an ant, the fire of your domain all around. the half orc grabs you by the neck and forces you away, screaming that you’re a horrible teacher. you have only the slightest second to bask in the satisfaction of crushing him in your hands when the spitfire tiefling gets up and dashes away on her skateboard.

you strike her so hard her back explodes with red diamonds. she turns to look at you, and blinding daylight bursts out of her mouth when she says,

you don’t know her like I do

then she dives into the lava under the floorboards and lights two of your boyfriend’s clones on fire.

[iiwontgiveuponmilkk]

I Hate You. | F.W.

summary: They had been friends since the moment they met, but what happens when she falls in love with him and he seems to blind to notice?

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

word count: 5718

warning(s): ends in smut

notes: I have not posted in quite some time, nor have I wrote anything in a long time. I tried to avoid the use of y/n. Fred calls her 'little red' or 'red' ocassionally, this is explained in the writing.

masterlist

Six years of friendship. Six years of falling for Fred Weasley, really. If she were to be honest with herself, she knew she loved him two years ago. It was just easier to ignore as a 15 year old girl. She initially tried to write it off as just feeling that way because they were so close already, but she knew that wasn’t true. She was just as close with his twin brother, George, and she wasn’t in love with him. Fred was different. They knew each other on a different level. They could be overly affectionate with each other. When she saw him at the platform this year, she ran to him and jumped into his arms and stayed there despite George whining that he hadn’t seen her in just as long. On the train ride, she fell asleep with her head in his lap whilst he and George started scheming their first prank of the school year. He would hush George any time she would start to stir, then gently play with her hair until she settled again. She had fallen asleep on George’s shoulder once, and swore to never do it again. Whilst he was also one of her best friends, he did not hold the same kind of soft spot for her as his twin did. He had used a spell to turn her hair bright green. She was livid when she realised. Poor George was afraid to turn his back to her for the next four months. She had waited six months for her revenge, perfecting the same colour changing spell, but turning all of his clothes pink. 

Now at 17, her feelings were harder to hide. The pangs of jealousy at every Gryffindor party after a quidditch match when girls would shamelessly flirt with him. And he seemed to love it. Tonight was another one of those nights. Gryffindor had destroyed Slytherin on the quidditch pitch and were, of course, throwing their usual celebration. She sat next to George and Angelina on the couch, her eyes following Fred. Her gaze only left him as Julie came up to him and was heavily laying on the charm. She felt the jealousy bubbling in her like a failed potion about to go horribly wrong. She felt George shift and wrap an arm around her shoulder, giving her a slight squeeze. “Love, why don’t you talk to him?” Angelina asked, reaching over George to squeeze her hand. Her gaze moved from her knees to her two friends, a heavy sigh leaving her lips. “I couldn’t possibly talk to him about this, Ang. I’d tell him everything and feel like an absolute git after.” She admitted, letting out another huff. George shook his head, opening his mouth to speak but quickly closing it. Ever since the start of the year, she had grown closer to George and his girlfriend, Angelina. Unfortunately, closer than she was with Fred. They were definitely still close, but something was different between them this year. And it wasn’t that she was head over heels in love with him. It was him that was keeping a distance between the two of them. Every year, she sat with them at the Gryffindor table. Her Ravenclaw robes made her stick out like a sore thumb in the sea of red, but Fred and George were her best friends. In fact, she only ever sat at her own houses’ table a handful of times. The sorting ceremony, the last day, and that couple of months last year when Fred had a girlfriend who absolutely hated her. She had friends in Ravenclaw, but she wasn’t as close to anyone as she was with Fred. George was a close second, but her and Fred always just clicked. They clicked from the first train ride to Hogwarts they ever had. They were nearly inseparable. If Fred wasn’t with George, he was with her, or they were all together. She spent a few weeks with the Weasley’s every summer. Molly was like her second mother at this point. She loved spending time with all of them. She loved answering all of Arthur’s questions about the muggle world. She loved hanging out with Ginny, the only other girl around her age in the Weasley household. It was usually the highlight of her summer.

A loud cheering pulled her attention away from her two friends as they all turned to the source of the noise. It felt like her heart shattered into dust. Don’t cry. Do not cry. Not here. “I-, I have to go.” She quickly stammered, slipping away from her friends and blinking back tears. There he was. Fingers tangled in Julie’s hair, kissing her passionately. She tried to keep her head down as she pushed towards the door. She knew better, but she looked up anyway. Another stab to the heart. Her tear-filled gaze met the eyes of Fred Weasley. Fred Weasley, best friend, heartbreaker. She tore her gaze from his and moved as quickly as she could without running. She pushed out of the door, finally letting a tear fall as the door shut behind her. She could’ve swore she heard George yelling at his twin as she stepped out, but she could be wrong. She stood in the hall for a moment, unsure of what to do. Her feet were moving before she registered that she was moving. She knew Fred, she knew he would try to come after her. He was her best friend, after all. Part of her wished he would push through the door, catch up to her and wrap her in his arms. The other part of her, the hurt, told her to stop hoping he would feel the same way. Though, he would ask George what happened first, which bought her some time, yet not enough to get to her common room before he caught up with her. Even if she ran, he could easily catch up to her. Before she knew it, she was standing in the middle of the hall, watching the door to the room of requirements take shape. She heard him calling her name, and heard his footsteps. She didn’t want him to see her like this, not right now. Not when it was so fresh. She shouldn’t be crying. They were only friends, she was the one hopelessly in love with him. She reached for the doorknob, sliding into the room and quickly shutting the door behind her. Merlin, please let the door disappear before he gets down here. She slid down the wall next to the door. How absolutely foolish could she be? Her and Fred would never happen. It was clear at this point. She was terrified that if she told him how she felt, it would ruin their friendship. Not only would she be heartbroken, but she would lose her best friend too. 

She had no idea how long she sat there for. Maybe an hour? Maybe two? It took nearly another hour before she gathered the courage to leave. Even if he had seen her, she doubted he would’ve waited for her. Maybe two years ago, but not now. Not with this weird distance between them. Definitely not after close to three hours of her hiding. She could still confidently say that Fred was her best friend, but it was different. It wasn’t like before. They weren’t joined at the hip anymore. This summer made that clear. She spent most of her time with Ginny and Molly. The few times they had spent together went from comfortable and playful to awkward. There were moments when it felt like he may also feel the same way about her, but he always seemed to pull away a little more after. She could’ve sworn he was going to kiss her one night, her heart felt like it was beating in her throat. But he just cleared his throat and awkwardly scratched the back of his head as he took a step back from her. Maybe she should’ve just kissed him then, and let whatever would happen just happen. At least she would’ve known how he felt. She might have lost her best friend, but she wouldn’t constantly feel this hurt and jealousy. 

 She pressed on the wall, waiting for the door to appear to make her exit. She slowly pushed the door open, only then realising she should have left from the other side of the room. There he was. That beautiful, heartbreaking idiot. His head leaned back against the wall, mouth slightly open as he slept. She realised she really had been in there for much longer than she thought and it was a miracle Fred hadn’t been found by Filch or Mrs. Norris. She kneeled in front of him, resting her hands on his knees. “Freddie.” She whispered lightly, pushing against his knees to hopefully wake him, but she knew he could sleep through the whole castle crumbling to the ground. “Freddie!” She whisper-yelled, shaking him harder, earning a groan from him. “Fred Gideon Weasley, get up before Filch comes and kills us both!” She whispered harshly, causing Fred to finally open his eyes. His sleepy gaze quickly turned to a soft look when he took her in. She knew her eyes had to be slightly puffy and her nose was red. It always turned red after she cried, and she hated it. She also hated that Fred always knew when she was upset or had been crying, and he always knew exactly how to make her feel better. Whether she needed a hug, or to be held, or if he needed to go to ridiculous measures just to make her laugh. Fred reached out and pulled her to him, stretching his legs out so she was in his lap. She fell forward against him as he hugged her. She let her head rest against his chest, feeling tears threaten to fill her eyes again. “C’mon little red.” He whispered, moving to get up. “I don’t have red hair.” She mumbled, she didn’t know where the nickname had come from. Fred had just started calling her it one day. The only answer for why she ever got was that she was now an honorary Weasley and she was tiny. It used to annoy her to no end, which is probably why it stuck. Fred loved getting reactions out of her, because even if something annoyed her when it came to him, she secretly loved it. It was like he knew it.

She walked next to him, keeping her head down. She watched her feet as she walked. She wasn’t paying attention, she just let him lead the way. She figured they would go to his dorm. It was the closest and safest bet. The chances of not getting caught on the way to her common room were slim to none. It was way too late to even consider being out of the common room, everyone was most likely asleep by now. She knew they were entering the Gryffindor common room. The Fat Lady had long ago stopped putting up a fight about her being snuck into the common room after hours. It happened so often that it wasn’t worth it. She didn’t bother to look up, just followed Fred to the stairs. The floor was a mess and she was afraid to look up. She didn’t want to relive her most recent memory in this room. She followed Fred into his dorm, noting that it was empty. He shared a room with George and Oliver Wood. Neither of the other two boys were here. She stood there silently as Fred moved around. He pulled out a jumper and handed it to her, turning around for her to change. The normalcy of this pained her. She knew Fred had seen her almost completely naked. He had stayed with her when she was sick last year. She had a fever that wouldn’t break and she had stripped out of her shirt and pyjama shorts in her sleep- with Fred sharing the same bed. She pulled the jumper over her head before pulling her jeans off. The jumper hung down to her knees, Fred was nearly a foot taller than her, if not more. She didn’t say anything as she climbed into his bed, only huffing as she rolled over to face away from him. 

She felt his weight as he slid into his bed, turning to face her back. “George told me what happened. She kissed me, and I didn’t…” He whispered so quietly she could barely hear him. Her whole body seemed to tense as she registered what he said. Of course George told him. Bloody hell. She felt Fred’s hand brush over her arm. He grabbed her shoulder, gently trying to turn her to him. She fought him on it, but it was no use. He was stronger than she was, no matter how determined she was to keep her back to him. “You know you can tell me anything. Hell, you’re my best friend.” Fred whispered, his eyes on her face. She stared at the ceiling, feeling tears well in her eyes again. “That’s the problem, Freddie. I’m your best friend.” Her whisper was soft, not trusting herself to speak without starting to cry again. “And I hate it.” She finished, closing her eyes tightly to press the tears back. She could still feel his eyes on her, but she knew she couldn’t look at him. She knew she would break. She knew he would hold her until she either calmed down or fell asleep. Merlin’s beard, they were more than just friends. Friends don’t do this. Friends don’t share a bed. Friends don’t sleep in nothing but the others jumper and their underwear and cuddle. Friends don’t wake up wrapped in each other's arms. Friends don’t cling to each other the way they usually do. She loved George like a brother, he was one of her closest friends. Her and George are not friends like she and Fred are. She felt a tear squeeze its way from her eye. She let out a shaky sigh as she felt Fred brush it away with his thumb. He pulled her into him and she hated him for it. She hated him at that moment. She hated that he made her hurt, but he was the only one that could make her feel better. A sob escaped her lips as the tears began to fall. “I hate you. I hate that you’re so damn oblivious to me. All I am is your best friend and I’ve been in love with you for two years, you idiot.” She cried into his chest. He cradled her head with one arm and pulled her closer with the other, holding her there as she cried. “I’m sorry, Red, I-i didn’t know.” He held her tighter, placing a kiss on the top of her head. His fingers drew circles on her back as her cries slowly stopped. He hadn’t realised she had fallen asleep until her grip on his shirt slowly loosened.

She woke up pressed to Fred’s chest and her legs tangled in his. His fingers were drawing slow shapes on her side. God she was still so hurt. The image of him kissing Julie replaying in her head. She went to pull away from him, only to be pulled against him tighter. “Let me go.” She mumbled, pushing against him again. “No can do, doll.” He mumbled back. “I still hate you.” She bit back, trying her best to ignore the comfort she felt being pressed against. “You don’t mean that.” His voice was gentle. He was used to her little fits. She had told him multiple times over the years that she hated him. The first time when he accidentally broke her brand new quill that her father had sent her as a gift when she found a new hobby of writing. It was their second year. He had saved up anything he could get until Christmas that year to buy her the same one. She had cried then too, but those were happy tears. She had told him she hated him the day he told her that he couldn’t come see her that summer, that was year three. Then she wrote to his mother and asked if she could come there to see him and George. Of course, Molly said yes. She was so delighted to finally meet the twin’s best friend. She was glad they finally had someone to level out their antics, but that didn’t last long. They were always up to something. She had told him three times in year four that she hated him. Once was when he had her pinned down and was mercilessly tickling her. She gasped it out between laughs. She even used his full name. He couldn’t help but smile, only to stop tickling when she rushed out that she was going to pee her pants if he didn’t stop. But he kept jumping at her, pretending he was going to tickle her again. The second time was when he was dating Hannah. They had gotten into a fight, screaming at each other. She was sad because she felt like she was losing Fred as a friend because Hannah hated her. And he called her bitter and jealous that she had never had a boyfriend. It was then that she told him she hated him. He could see the hurt in her eyes. That was the first time it truly hurt when she said she hated him. It felt like she meant it that time. The third time was towards the end of the year. They had made up and were thicker than thieves once again. She had conned him into going to the library to study. He was messing around the whole time and trying to make her laugh. He took it a little too far, accidentally hitting her inkwell. It shot across the table, they both moved to catch it and they both missed. It had spilled all over her skirt. She said she hated him then and told him he was lucky he was her best friend, otherwise he’d have to buy her a new skirt. Last year, year five, there were odd bits of distance between them, but when he thought about it, they weren’t odd. They were distant every time he had a girlfriend or was chasing after some girl. He had been slightly jealous of George since last year. She seemed to latch on to him, but it all made sense. She was distancing herself to protect herself and George was there for her, probably to tell her that Fred was an idiot and he’d come around one day. 

“Look at me.” He said as he rolled on to his side, sliding her off his chest. She stared at his chest, not meeting his gaze. “I am.” She mumbled and he had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Her full name left his lips as he gently pushed her chin up to force her to look at him, but she kept her eyes trained on his chest. “I swear, you are so stubborn that I wonder how you weren't sorted into Gryffindor.” She looked up at him, eyes narrowed. “What Fred? What do you want? I don’t care if she kissed you. You didn’t have to kiss her back.” She bit out. He had to hide his smirk. If she wasn’t so upset with him, he knew she would’ve rolled her eyes and made a ridiculous comment on how she was surprised he wasn’t sorted into Slytherin. He suddenly missed her jests, wishing he could rewind to before the party. George had told him that someone they knew was pining after him. He just didn’t think it would be his best friend. But then again, how could it not be? They spent most of their time together, either alone or with George. If he wasn’t with George, he was with her. People often commented on them acting like a couple. Fred would walk her to class, arm slung around her shoulder. “I’m an idiot-” He started, only to be cut off by her. “I know you are. You’re the biggest idiot I know.” She tried to hold her glare, fighting a small smile. “C’mon, little red, let me finish.” He raised his brow as she opened her mouth to talk then closed it. She let out a sigh, waiting for him to continue. “You say I’m the biggest idiot you know, which may be true. But I’m the most handsome idiot you know.” He paused as a small smile tugged at her lips. “I’m an idiot, I’m sorry. You could’ve just told me. Could’ve said ‘hey, you big, handsome, idiot, I love you’.” He paused again, reaching up and tucking her hair behind her ear. “I would’ve said, ‘hey, little red, I love you too’.”

“Stop calling me that.” she mumbled and Fred let out an exasperated noise. He noticed the small smile playing on her lips. “I still hate you, at least for the next five minutes.” Her voice was much softer this time. “You’re so stubborn.” he mumbled, smiling when he felt her fingers grasp his shirt. “And you’re an idiot for not kissing me.” She mumbled, her gaze still locked with his. He slowly leaned in, his nose brushing hers as her eyes fluttered shut. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.” She whispered as he leaned in. Her lips just barely brushing his as she spoke. He paused for a moment. He knew she had never dated anyone, but he didn’t think she had never kissed anyone before. He closed the gap, gently kissing her. The kiss was slow and soft, until she took him by surprise when she nipped his bottom lip. He groaned, pulling her flush against him as he deepened the kiss. “Never kissed anyone before, unbelievable.” He mumbled against her lips. She pulled on his shirt in a futile attempt to get closer than they already were. It was when she slid her hand up her chest and around his shoulder up to his hair that the door to his dorm opened. He reluctantly broke the kiss, looking up to see George standing in the doorway. “Well, I was coming to tell you that no one has seen our little friend here since last night, but I see you’re snogging her.” George grins. You roll over at his comment, turning to look at him. George winks at you and then turns his attention back to Fred. “I am now obligated to help her hide your body, doesn’t matter that you’re my brother.” George states, causing her to laugh.

“George, leave. Please.” Fred groans. “I think he should stay. This is fun. Hey, Georgie, isn’t Fred the biggest idiot you know?” She asks, smiling sweetly at Fred. “That’s likely!”

After George had left, they spent the entire morning in bed. Fred stealing kisses from her when she wasn’t dozing back off. “Freddie?” She whispered, curled into his side, her head laying on his chest. He hummed an acknowledgement. “Did you mean it?” She asked, her fingers grasping his shirt again. A small chuckle came from him as he squeezed her to him. “I love you, I have for some time. You’re also my best friend and I didn’t want to lose you.” He said, placing a kiss on the top of her head. “I love you, you big, handsome idiot.” She said as she lifted her head to look at him. “Don’t think I won’t ask George to help hide your body.” She grinned as he laughed. 

The rest of the year seemed to breeze by. Two months of Fred pulling her into random broom closets between classes and sneaking into the room of requirements before curfew. Countless nights spent in there, hidden away among the mess. Before she knew it, everyone was packing and getting ready to leave for the summer. 

“Fred, I’m too tired, carry me.” She whined as he gently woke her when the train finally stopped at the station. He let out a sigh as George laughed at him, shaking his head. She was going to the Weasley’s for the summer as her parents were away until November. She sat up, rubbing her eyes, looking up at Fred. “After we get off the train, then I’ll think about it.” He reached a hand out to her, helping her up. The journey to the Weasley’s was rather quick. They travelled through the floo system. She dramatically collapsed into Fred’s arms when they got back. “So tired.” she mumbled. “You’re going to kill me.” He laughed, picking her up. This wasn’t entirely unusual for the two of them. Everyone was used to Fred and her clinging to each other. Molly would often give Fred a knowing look when she would walk into the den, finding her sleeping with her head in his lap or curled up against him. Molly also knew that, most nights, if she were to peek into Fred’s room, she would find the two of them together. She often heard them talking in loud whispers and trying to hide their laughter in the middle of the night. It didn’t dawn on her that only a handful of them knew they were together, not until George opened his mouth. “Hey ma, did you know that Freddie has a girlfriend?” A groan left Fred as he stared his twin down. She buried her face in his chest, trying to ignore the slew of reactions from the older Weasleys. Molly was utterly delighted, commenting on how she was surprised that it took this long.

The days seemed to fly by spending them in the Weasley household. Lots of stolen kisses and sneaking around. It wasn't until mid-July that her and Fred were alone in the house together. Everyone had gone out for one reason or another and it was just the two of them. They spent the morning in Fred’s bed, tangled together. She was constantly falling back asleep and Fred was just content to hold her. It wasn’t until she was the one to lean up and kiss him that the day seemed to take a slight turn. They had shared a bed countless times, kissing had almost turned into more countless times as well. But this kiss was needy and built a fire in the both of them. She started the kiss. It was soft, loving at first. Then she nipped his bottom lip and a groan left his lips. His fingers dug into her hips, the feeling giving her the courage she needed in the moment. She moved to straddle him. His hand pushed up the jumper she stole from him, revealing her bare thighs. She really would be the death of him. She never seemed to wear pants. Just his shirt and a pair of panties, she was a constant tease seemingly unknowing to the fact. The kiss was still innocent enough, until she ground her hips down on his. The almost whiny moan that left her lips had him flipping them over. His lips trailed down her neck, nipping and sucking at the skin, most likely leaving marks in his wake. The sounds that left her lips were driving him wild. “You’re killing me.” He mumbled against her neck. His hands slid around her body. He gripped her hips before sliding a hand up her shirt. His fingers pinched and rolled her nipple, a lewd moan leaving her lips. 

“Freddie, please.” She whined, pushing her hips up against his for any sort of friction. She tugged at his shirt, pulling it up until he reached up to pull it over his head. He leaned down, capturing her lips with his. She deepened the kiss, swiping her tongue against his bottom lip. He still found it hard to believe she had never kissed anyone before him. Not when she kissed him like this. She continued to grind her hips against his, moaning into the kiss. Her hands slid down his chest, her fingers hooking under the waistband of his pyjamas pants. She started to push them down when Fred broke this. “Baby-” He started only to be cut off by her leaning up and kissing him again. He knew she was virgin, while he may not be, he didn’t want her to feel like she had to do this. He was content just being with her. “Freddie, please. I want you. I-,” She paused, looking up to meet his eyes. “I want you to be my first.” Her breathy proclamation almost made him groan, but it was her reaching down and palming him through his pants that made a groan fall from his lips. Fred reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it off and tossing it on the floor. His eyes dragged over her body. She was perfect. “So pretty, baby.” He groaned, she would’ve thought he was talking to himself until his eyes met hers. His hands slid from her hips and over her stomach before he leaned down, kissing down her neck to her navel. It was then that her nerves started to build up. His lips pressed to her hip as he looked up at her. “If you want to stop, we will. At any point, baby.” He nipped at her hip as he pulled her panties down. She felt her cheeks flush, suddenly feeling exposed. Fred’s hands sliding up her legs seemed to calm her nerves. He pressed a kiss to her knee first, then trailed kisses down her inner thigh. It was the kiss that he placed closest to her sex that had the first moan falling from her lips. She gasped when she felt his tongue against her clit. He slowly added more pressure as he worked her clit. She didn't know how much more she could take, every pass of his tongue on her was overwhelming. Her hips bucked into his face. She was sure if she wasn’t so consumed by the building warmth in her abdomen that she would have been embarrassed. His name fell from her lips as he slowly worked a finger into her. His pace was painfully slow but every move made her feel like he already knew her body better than she ever could. It wasn’t until he worked a second finger into her and sucked her clit between his lips that she felt like she was falling apart. His name left her lips in succession until all she could do was moan. She moved her hips against his fingers, riding out her orgasm. 

“Please, Freddie, I need you inside of me.” She let out a breathy whine. This girl would really be the death of him. He turned his head, leaving a hickey on the inside of her thigh. His lips were on hers in an instant. When she reached to push his pants down, this time he let her. He deepened the kiss, running his tongue along her bottom lip. He slipped his tongue against hers, taking his time kissing her. He ground into her, sliding his dick through her folds. He teased her with his tip before gently pushing into her. She gasped into his mouth, her body tensing at the intrusion. “Relax, baby, okay?” He whispered, kissing her jaw. He didn’t move his hips, but his hand snaked between them. His thumb pressed against her clit, causing another gasp to leave her lips. He continued to toy with her clit as she looked up at him. The look in her eyes as a quiet moan fell from her lips had his resolve wavering. It was when the next breathy moan fell from her lips that she took him by surprise. She pushed her hips up, taking more of him in. His ministrations continued as he tried to ease any of her discomfort with pleasure. She rolled her hips into his, fucking herself like she had done on his fingers. Fred moved his other hand to her hip, holding her hips in place. It was then that he pushed into her until she took all of him in. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, her nose, then her lips. The kiss was slow, gentle as he gave her time to adjust. She broke the kiss, brushing her nose against his. “Freddie.” His name left her lips in a breathy moan as she pushed against him. His thrusts were shallow at first, his forehead resting against hers. They moved slowly together, quiet moans falling from her lips. His name fell from her lips as he thrusted into her harder, faster. Her hands ran up his back, her nails digging into his skin as she gripped his shoulders. “O-oh, Freddie.” She gasped, tilting her head up to press her lips to his. She could feel her orgasm building again when he slid a hand between them, pressing his thumb to her clit. Fred could feel himself getting close to the edge. 

“Fuck, baby, cum for me.” He groaned against her skin. His thumb pressed into her clit harder, circling until she threw her head back. His name fell from her lips, her nails digging into his back. The feeling of her walls clenching and spasming around him as she came sent him over the edge. Her name fell from his lips as he pressed his forehead to hers. “I love you, Freddie.” Her voice was a whisper. She leaned up to steal a quick kiss from his lips before he could speak. “I love you.” He mumbled between kisses. 

They spent the next few hours tangled in each other, whispering sweet nothings, and her dozing off a few times. Fred woke her when he heard the first noises in the den below. Fred scrambled to find his clothes as she waltzed around his room to find hers. She pulled on a pair of leggings and his jumper. Her fingers slid across his sides as he pulled his shirt on. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing herself against him. His arms snaked around her, placing a kiss on the top of her head.

[vanillabat99]

I've started watching a "Corpse Party" playthrough, and so far it's the kind of thing I've been looking for in horror media!! It fills the content holes that Danganronpa didn't meet!! Downsides so far include:

I think I started with the wrong game, but I can't find any playthroughs of the first game on this particular channel.

Playlist is like 24+ hours total. This will take awhile.

Videos are from 9 years ago and the max resolution is 240p. I suffer.

Game audio is weirdly balanced between music and voice acting, and the video itself is also weirdly balanced between the game and commentary. I cannot win the volume settings battle.

The game text is translated, but the voice acting is not, so I can't put it on in the background and I have to read everything.

All of those things are more technical/personal issues and don't have much of an impact on my enjoyment so far!! If I manage to get through this playlist, I would like to get into the rest of the games as well ^-^

[klausysworld]

I don’t know why but I really want something with Klaus breaking reads heart.

Maybe…. Reader and Cami have been kidnapped and Klaus has to choose who to save. He chooses Cami but before reader can be killed Elijah saves her.

Left for dead

Living with the originals was hard enough. Between the betrayals and the wars just within the family was overwhelming let alone outsiders going out of their way to destroy each of them.

Being with Klaus was already difficult, between his mood swings and temper tantrum’s he wasn't an easy person to love and yet I did.

Even when I realised he was in love with someone else, even whilst knowing he was kissing someone else, I didn't leave him. I loved him with everything in me whether it was killing me or not.

I had offered my life for his, I took life for his and I ruined my own life for his. With Klaus came his family and I did everything I could to welcome them as my own. Even after I found out that his sister knew that he was seeing someone else.

Hope was treated the way I would treat my own daughter and I loved more than anyone else to walk the planet. Maybe that was why I stayed, for Hope. Or maybe that’s what I tell myself because how could I have been pathetic enough to stay for a an who only saw me as a warm body.

For some reason I had it in my head that perhaps he loved both me and Camille. Maybe he thought I wouldn't accept it and so he kept it a secret but surely after everything he should know that I would never try to change him or invalidate his feelings. It was stupid to be okay with him seeing Cami behind my back, I was blinded by something I had created in my mind.

I would smile when Cami was near and I tried to talk to Klaus but he labelled me paranoid and brushed it off. So I thought maybe he regretted it and he didn't want me to know because he wanted to stop. Maybe he did still love me.

This was the ultimate test really.

Both myself and Camille were beaten until black, blue and bloody. A loop of our cries and screams echoed through my mind and bounced against the walls of whatever dungeon we were seemingly chained within. I had no way of knowing how long we had been there but my body and soul felt such a sense of relief when Klaus's voice rang through the building. That feeling only lasted a few seconds before our captures taunting replayed in my head:

"Klaus will choose between you both, he will decide who lives or dies. He may think that he can have it all, have you both but I won't let him well. Whichever one he chooses, the guilt from the other will eat away at him, he won't be able to stay with the other. You will all end up broken and alone." he had whispered cruelly.

Her heart pounded in her throat as she watched Klaus approach them both, his hands coated in red as he forced the bars that separated us apart and went to step through only to let out a gasp and drop to his knees. The with who had tortured us for however long appeared from thin air in front of Klaus and I automatically pulled my legs to my chest to hide in the corner.

"Only one of them leaves" he stated, a grin on his face. "I don't care which but you will choose one or they both die and the next to go missing will be your daughter"

At his words Klaus let out a vicious snarl and attempted to lurch forward at the man but a sharp pain forced its way to his head and caused a loud yell of pain to burst from within him.

I could feel my eyes burning with another flow of tears just watching his pain, knowing what he felt. I could see Cami staring straight at me. Over our time in here together she had often brought up Klaus's ultimatum, I told her that I knew that they loved each other. I told her that he would choose her. She was certain that I was wrong and that Klaus didn't love her but just used her as a release. But I knew what Klaus looked like when he was in love. Even so part of me hoped she was right, it was a dark thought, a horrible hope that I wish I didn't have but I really wanted it to be true.

I looked back to Camille, a tight lipped smile that was probably more of a grimace formed on my lips as I mouthed the words 'it'll be okay' to her and her head shook as tears slipped down her cheeks.

Cami was sweet, she was lovely and I loathed it. She wanted to die instead of me, she said I deserved to live more than she did. That I was Hope's second mother I was apart of the Mikaelsons. She apologised for ever being with Klaus and it just made me feel worse. I thought that maybe they were lies, maybe she secretly hoped that Klaus would choose her and I would be left to die.

I couldn't tell and it didn't really matter anymore. Not when I realised that Klaus was right in front of me. I felt a small spark of hope as his arms wrapped around me and he pulled my close to his chest. A soft sniffle left him and his lips pressed to the side and top of my head

"I'm so sorry" his voice whispered with a crack and I went to tell him it was okay before I felt him pulling away and I realised what he was apologising for "forgive me" he uttered as he made his way to Cami.

My eyes stayed blurry with tears but they didn't fall as a complete feeling of numbness spread throughout me completely. I could hear my captures sickening laugh spin around me and I could hear Camille asking Klaus what he was doing.

"Klaus- go back to her" she whispered but he shook his head

"I love you" he admitted and a bitter laugh left my lips. I covered my mouth with my hands and pressed my forehead against my knees. I shouldn’t have been surprised and I shouldn’t have been so upset. I knew he loved her, I knew he would choose but for some reason it hurt so much more when he actually confirmed it.

I could hear Camille apologising to me as Klaus lifted her up, carrying her to a safety I thought I would never again know.

As soon as they left hands were on me, grabbing and dragging me by my hair to force me to crawl wherever he wanted me. Uncontrollable pain shot through me continuously and I had no time to comprehend the sobs that shook my body. I felt my back arch painfully, almost breaking but not quite, my head was forced back so my neck was bared and a sharp knife went to the edge of my neck.

"it's unfortunate really..." the voice uttered before the blade began to sink into my throat. My eyes closed and I welcomed the quick death but the pressure stopped and a thud sounded from before me.

Fingers pressed to the place the knife had began to cut, a familiar scent engulfed me and an arm circled my waist.

"You're alright darling" the voice whispered, pulling me into an embrace making me grab onto the back of his suit silently. "He's gone now Y/n. You're safe." he murmured softly, rubbing my back before i felt him pull back a little bit. My eyes slowly cracked open to see his face, his deep dark eyes boring into mine with a knowing look of pity. Silently I watched as an array of reds and purples scattered under his chocolate brown eyes and his pearly fangs dipped into the tough skin of his wrist. The fresh wound was lifted to my lips and I accepted the metallic taste with a sigh. I drank for much longer than I needed, I expected he would pull be off but his hand only pet the back of my head gently

"Good girl" he whispered "just heal". His touch made my heart hurt and I didn't bother trying to stop the tears from falling anymore. My hands clutched onto his jacket desperately and I gulped his blood down as though it was water.

Soft touches were given to the skin of my face before his silk handkerchief cleaned at the dirt and dried blood that had dripped down my neck. Reluctantly I pulled away from his wrist and licked my lips clean. He wiped his own wrist and tucked the material away into his pocket. Elijah proceeded to pull the jacket off of his body and instead wrapped it around my shoulders. The inside was warm and smelt of home.

My eyes felt heavy with exhaustion and I gave him a tired smile making him frown.

"I'll bring you home now okay?" he whispered but I shook my head

"I can't go back" I muttered "I won't stay with him anymore. I should have left ages ago" I admitted and his eyes grew glossier.

"Where should I take you?" He asked gently and I shrugged

"Airport? Train station? I don't care just don't tell anyone you saved me? Please?" I begged softly and he nodded.

"I'll give you whatever you need" he promised "anything"

[hazelfoureyes]

A Doe in Fall (part 5)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦

Part 5 Too Much

Actions famously speak louder than words, so what did you say, exactly, to Alastor with your actions that night? You were briefly rattled by what happened in the park but not for the obvious reasons. Despite everything, despite your fears, you found the situation deepening between you two when he suddenly invites to stay the night at his home. Perhaps he had fears of his own?

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem Burlesquer reader, No smut! That’s next part because this part was already super fucking long 😭 , but we do flirt our asses off and get taken by the hand, crying, panic attacks, discussions of murder, dead bodies, you really have to stop smoking, deer, adorably nervous Alastor, this man owns more than one mug you fucking know it」

19 days later… 😩 please don’t kill me. 5000 words here, Another like 6000 words are posting this Thursday, also tumblr wouldn’t let me post this for like an hour , just gave me error messages, I had to copy and paste 4 times so there may be some errors in here so let me know if you find spelling or format issues🙏

When he came to, momentarily either unconscious or just incapacitated as his brain started up again, he was frantic for his glasses. He could hear the sounds of a brutal death, the crunch of anger, the squish of rage. 

His eyes focused now, slightly askew and smudged glasses helping him see you clearly. 

Leaning over the man, hands red and face twisted in a marriage of fear and wrath, you were bringing a large rock down on the man’s unrecognizable face over and over and over and—

You flinched when Alastor’s hands delicately slipped down your arms and peeled your fingers from the rock.

Full body shaking, “He was going to kill you!” You said it too loud, too fast. “He was going to—,” Your breath got caught in your throat, “He wanted to— He was trying to kill you, Alastor.”

Wet with mud and blood and the rain still left on the grass, you were pulled into Alastor’s lap. He tucked your head into the crook of his neck with a small wince and hugged you. “He was. He almost did.” Low and slow, his chest rumbled when he said it. “You did such a good job.”

You looked down at your hands, but he pulled your face back up to look at his, “Always surprising me in the best ways.”

You’d forgotten already, how when adrenaline wanes you’re left with terrible tremors and a suddenly clear head. Alastor almost died. You hadn’t thought at all when it happened. Everything had taken place so fast, faster than your brain could process.

You had seen Alastor stop struggling against the man, his body went still and your eyes were blinded with tears, there was a horrible sound that may have come from you, and then there was nothing. A flash of running Colors. Distant muddled sounds.

Maybe you saw someone grab a rock. 

You might have hit the man on the back of the head. 

You think he fell down and something didn’t stop moving against him. 

Perhaps you thought if you hit him enough you could make it have not happened at all. If you killed him fast enough, Alastor would have been fine and standing.

But you weren’t sure. You blinked and Alastor was touching you and underneath you was a pulp of a man’s face. 

Alastor’s heart was racking against his ribs. Arms tightening around you unconsciously as his eyes landed on the dead man.

He’d gotten too comfortable. He pushed too hard. He wanted too much. He was too much.

He felt himself spilling over and staining your hands metaphorically and now literally.

You didn’t feel anything. Not during. Now you felt too much.

Your mind was filled with an echoing chorus of, ‘He almost killed him. He almost died. He almost killed him. He almost died. He almost died. He almost died.” 

There was a strange fear that Alastor had died, and any second you’d blink again and be alone in the trees with two dead men. You twisted in his lap,  hands rocketing to Alastor’s face and gripping the sides of his head. You were staring into his eyes, panting.

“You can’t die. I’ll—,” tears poured down your face in streams not drops. Your throat closed around the words. Short and fast, your breath ran wild. Hands tingling, your lips felt like they were pricked with a hundred tiny needles. 

Alastor pushed down his own mess of emotions, “One deep breath in.” His hands settled on yours,  still on his face. He could feel the familiar stickiness of drying blood in his hair. “Keep breathing in.” You coughed, shaking your head no. “You can, I promise it. Would I lie to you?”

You laughed, managing to catch your breath for a moment, “Y-yes.” 

“Well, now you’re adding insult to injury.” He made a show of rubbing his neck. You smacked his chest lightly, breathing in twice in a row.

He held both of your hands in both of his, “Name a time I’ve ever lied.” He distracted you but wounded himself. He could name a time.

You tried to think. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re just a really good liar.” Your voice was hoarse. 

Alastor nodded, “That’s true, there’s actually nothing I can’t do well.”

Another laugh, a cry, “Stop it.”

His warm, clean hands wiped your tears. “You’re being aggressive again, sweetheart. You know I prefer soft spoken women.”

The laughter helped break the cycle of hyperventilating. As your breathing finally got to a manageable speed you felt exhaustion deep in your bones.

All at once the sensations became prominent. Your knees were red and muddy, your hands bloody, your left side and back wet. You were sticky and sore and cold. “Alastor,” his legs were framing you, yours now folded under yourself and digging into rocks, “I wanna go home.” You adjusted his glasses, “Together.” 

If he had a reason to say no, he ignored it. 

“I thought I was the messy one.” He washed your hands with the water cans and settled you into the passenger seat of his car. Alastor took care of filling the trunk and cleaning the ground before sliding into the driver's seat.

He turned to you, his face dirty and clothes worse. You looked down at yourself; knees a color of wine, and blue dress now dyed brown.

“I know you have to get rid of him. So, I won’t ask you to sleep over. Just,” you felt sleepy, mind asking you to let it catch up, “let me take care of you for a little bit. Okay?”

His hand slipped onto your leg, he wanted to make a joke about sex or murder hoping to make you laugh again. But it was obvious he needed to be quiet, so he just nodded.

Alastor left the car on a side street behind your building. The man whose name you never asked concealed under canvas and red oil tins.

Luckily everything was clean in your apartment. It was small, just one room and a bathroom. The other apartments you’d seen had communal toilets and showers so you were quite proud of your space. You’d made it yours, gifted trinkets here and there, walls decorated with hanging dried flowers you'd had thrown at your feet. A shrine to your abilities.

You peeled off his clothes, tossing them in the kitchen sink and wiping off as much dirt as you could with a damp rag. 

Clothing hanging over the radiator, you both got into the shower. Cold and wet now hot and soaking,  you took his hands and sat you both down in the tub while the water ran down. Taking your time, you gently scratched the blood and mud from his hair and let it all wash away.

When fully cleaned and dried off he slipped on the only bit of clothing he had left, a loose pair of boxer shorts. You had a slip, silky and soft, to comfort you. Your mother wore silk, and it always made you feel safe. The way the fabric slid around its self and others, never catching or bunching up, was something you always hoped to emulate; smooth and cool, but always in need of a little caution and care.

A small bed meant for one, but you offered it. When Alastor motioned for you to slide in too, you didn’t hesitate.

Nose to nose, the room was quickly heating up with the radiator's help. 

You hadn’t been in a bed with Alastor in nearly two months, not since that first time. His words stuck to you like embroidered messages lovingly stitched into a handkerchief you didn’t want to lose. So you kept your hands between your thighs, still and away, to make sure he had space to exist in your bed.

“You saved my life.” Alastor whispered, one of you finally bringing up the obvious.

A hummed acknowledgment, “That makes us even.” He saved you before, you did the same in turn. A little piece of you worried the contract was done and he’d disappear.

“No, my dear. I owe you so much more.” A kiss to your cheek.

A terrifying thought took hold of you. “Roll over.” He looked confused but did. You were always asking him to turn away, always trying to hide your face when you said things that scared you. You hooked your arms under his and held tightly. 

“If I wasn’t there, there’s no one to have told me. How long would I have waited,” another torrent of tears into his back you couldn’t keep in if you tried, “at the phone booth for you to call in the morning.”

You were crying like a child, uncontrolled and with your entire body. Pathetic. 

He had never had someone to worry about those details. Everyone truly close to him was dead. Until now, of course. 

Of course.

What a natural addition you provided to him. He thought it like that it was a long standing fact.

He hugged your arms tighter to his chest. 

A shiver of fear in the warm bed as you continued, “I want to be there. With you. Always.” You gathered your courage. Shields completely down, if just for a moment, “I know there was nothing right about tonight but,” you wiped your tears off his back with your palm, reabsorbing that pain before he could soak it in, “Please. Don’t shut me out now. I’ll go to hell tomorrow for you but please don’t damn me to picking up a newspaper and seeing your name in the headlines; Learning you died in block letters for a nickel. I wouldn’t survive it.”

You didn’t want to meet his eyes, worried rejection was waiting for you there, so you’d asked him to turn so you could hide. He picked up your hands and kissed your knuckles one by one. “Please don’t say things like that outloud. Things like ‘go to hell’ and ‘tomorrow’ so close together. The spirits can hear you.” A kiss to your palm, “And I wouldn’t dare shut you out.” He couldn’t. The very idea of going back to how he was before, alone and mumbling to the dead, made his heart race with his own panic. If you disappeared tomorrow he was scared to think what would happen to him. “Plus, I know you’d just find me anyway. You always do.”

Had you not been there, he would have still tried to kill the man. Waiting in an alley or for a walk home through an empty space. You weren’t at fault. He’d been hurt before, but this was by far the worst situation he had been in. But he would have been in it regardless of your participation. Alastor pressed his lips into your hand, smelling the soap you’d washed him with. 

You hadn’t hesitated. He had thought you would run, that he’d slip away into death and you’d book it to safety. Something he never planned to ask you to do, to kill someone, you’d done it for him when it was the most selfless option. Did he mean so much to you? He wanted to ask, but if you said anything other than an immediate yes he feared he would turn to a pillar of salt and crumble.

If you both could find the courage to just look at each other you’d have all your answers. But you couldn’t. The fear still too strong. So you changed the topic for a chance at an escape.

A small confession, to turn the conversation away from death. “After our dates, your cologne always lingers on my clothes. Sometimes I just fall asleep in them. When I wake up, my pillow smells like you.” Your body formed against his back, pressing as tightly as you could. How was that less embarrassing than everything else you’d said when it was arguably more pathetic?

He was quiet. You worried you’d pushed too far. Alastor worried he’d already hurt you too much.

“If you asked me,” he spoke slowly, hands resting on yours above his heart, a deep breath, “I’d stop.” He would. 

But, “I’d never ask that of you.” You said it so quickly, like blinking or yawning it happened without you needing to think about it. Alastor did something he felt he needed to do, you saw that look in his eyes before and understood this was Alastor at his truest. And the people he killed weren’t good people. He provided a service to New Orleans that no one appreciated.

He smiled against your palm, making sure you felt it, “Why are you so good to me?”

Without hesitation, Because I love you.

After a beat of silence, “Because you know where I live, obviously.”

A huff, “And where you work.” 

“And the park where I like to get fingered.”

Finally, his unburdened laugh, “I didn’t expect you to say that.” That sound of his joy bounced off the thin walls around you both. He rarely expected anything you said or did. It was part of your charm. Normally he could predict what people would say like reading a bad story, but you were something else. Effortlessly entertaining, was that a compliment? He was sure you’d say no and make that face you always did, something between a pout and a glare, between sad and angry. 

He had been asking genuinely. Why were you so good to him? Why so patient? Why care at all? 

“Can you sleep? Or do you need to go?” 

Alastor thought about it, if he left early enough he could still get home in time to empty the trunk. He hummed an affirmative, when he didn’t move you understood it was the former. He didn’t want to go. He needed more time. He needed to feel you nearby. An odd sense that if he pulled away now the thread holding you two together would pull him apart at the seams with the distance. 

You would think nightmares would plague you after killing someone in cold blood, but no. You practically killed Tommy, when you considered it thoroughly. And while this night was not a joy, you had defended yourself and Alastor. You didn’t feel bad. You didn’t regret it. You were just scared you did a bad job. That you’d get caught. 

The kind of dreams you had were different kinds of scary. Of Alastor always leaving a room when you entered, of falling off the stage and landing too far down, of waking up to feel Alastor cold beside you. 

When you did wake, your arms were still tight around him and he was warm. Your forehead rested between his shoulder blades. You didn’t feel different this time, you didn’t feel changed like after Tommy.

Alastor always had nightmares so he wasn’t surprised to have them in your bed. He dreamt he awoke on the ground, the man was gone but you were there broken into several pieces.

Had it been a dream though? 

After he dressed, you brushing his hair over a shared cup of coffee (you only had the single mug), you walked him to his car. The sun was nearly up and luckily no one else was. You had just wrapped a coat around your slip, not exactly acceptable clothing for being in public.

A shared kiss, small and chaste, Alastor’s mind elsewhere. He opened the door but stopped and turned back to you. It was always in these moments before you two parted that he felt the most frantic. 

“I know we love talking in circles and making jokes, but I have to ask you, bluntly. You killed a man. Are you alright?” When you only blinked, he quickly added, “It’s okay if you’re not.” His expression was pure worry, furrowed brows and flat mouth. “Nothing will change if you say you’re not.”

When you started to smile, Alastor thought he had lost his mind. The sun was rising behind you, making the shadows on your face slowly shift. He took a second to take in the scene. Ankles naked with sockless shoes. To your right was a trunk full of a dead man. And you just smiling like he’d made a joke. Which he explicitly said he wasn’t going to do.

“I don’t feel like I killed anyone.” You said it with a levity that made him glance around, wondering if you’d hit your head a little too hard earlier, “I feel like I stopped someone from killing you. Which feels,” you fought to suppress your smile from growing any further, “kinda good. Like I’m strong. I’m just scared I made a mistake and police will find out. I’m terrified we’ll be seperated. But I don’t feel bad.”

A normal man would be deeply concerned. You didn’t feel bad? For killing a man with a rock? Arguably one of the most brutal ways to murder a person. A normal man would worry he would be next.

Luckily for you both, Alastor was not a normal man. He stared at your face, trying to discern any hints of deceit there before he fell into the comfort of trust.

Your pinky came out, “I’m fine, and if I’m ever not, I will tell you. Promise.” His eyes left your face to stare at the tiny digit, “If I break the promise, you get to break the pinky.”

“Pinkies are useless, we should use a finger that matters.” He offered his index. You let yourself laugh, hooking your pointer finger with his.

Smile to smile, he exhaled his stress and slipped into his normal demeanor, “No worries, darling! No one will ever know what happened to him.” He leaned beside you and patted the trunk. “Leave it to me.”

Alastor drove away with the man, ready to disappear the body and try to sleep before work if possible. A nagging still sat in his stomach, a little pull that maybe you’d change your mind. 

He asked you the next morning, on your routine call, if he could stop by the theater when he finished with work that night. No reason in particular. He’d pull into the side street, and you could run out to see him.

When he arrived, you were in your stage outfit waiting to greet the crowd. Alastor smiled, “The prettiest bird I’ve ever seen!”

“A bird? Alastor just ‘pretty’ woulda been a fine compliment.” 

He offered an apology by way of kiss, soft hands coming to your cheek as he leaned against the door of his car. “I just wanted to see you. Steal a kiss before you stole some hearts. May I return tomorrow?”

Ah, that feeling again. Stupid school girl with her first crush, her first taste of love. “I wouldn’t complain.” 

That flow of conversation eased Alastor, things felt normal already. For you, they were. A small worry remained he may begin to act differently but the only difference was he seemed to be embracing you deeper. 

After your delivered kiss, you took the stage like a woman reborn. The warmth of the light felt like the sun. Pointed toes as you moved along the stage, hips loose and smile coy. 

As you looked around the backlit crowd you didn’t search for a good mark. The times you did play a man’s attention for Alastor were different, it felt like art when you lured men into Alastor’s claws.

A shake of your feathered fans, a very controlled lowering of your head, you let a hip rock out into view. A little flash of inner thigh. Then, your favorite part. One hand gripped your fans as you them with the aide of practiced fingers. Free hand undoing your still remarkably heavy and glittering bra and handing it behind the curtain.

Surprise reveal, a naked magic trick done behind distracting whirling feathers. Arms open, fans high, you waited for the applause to die down. Deep breaths were not possible, adrenaline and the weight of your costume keeping you from hiding the heaving of your chest. 

The whistles were your favorite. You couldn’t imagine Alastor whistling but you were sure it would be flawless in its ability to capture your attention. 

“Anyone wanna smoke? I don’t want to go into the alley alone.” You asked the room, several girls glancing your way and shaking their heads no as you hurried back in from your set.

“Just take the fire escape to the roof. That’s where we’ve been smoking since Mr. Brady said it was dangerous at night.” Florence was normally a perfect smoking partner, never talking too much. The name Brady made your stomach flip though, you had forgotten about him for a second. You’d managed to avoid him until Tommy’s bloody trail went cold, but you knew he still stalked around the jazz and music district.

A dancer laughed, “Nighttime has always been dangerous for women.”

Someone you didn’t see added, “Fuck, daytimes not safe either.” 

You climbed the creaky and seemingly forgotten-about fire escape to the roof. The breeze hit your face before your feet even left the metal railing. 

It was… a roof. Grey painted floors and brick sides. Nothing special, but you could see the bowl full of discarded cigarettes near the front of the building. You looked over the short wall that edged the front, you were able to see the pigeon shit covered marquee. What an unattractive view, the lights flashing out from beneath actual shit.

There was a metaphor there, you were sure. 

Looking around, there were a few wicker chairs hidden in the shadow of the street’s lights, thankfully upside down to keep them clean from the birds.

If more people used roofs instead of alleys Alastor would be out of luck. Tommy was difficult enough with a staircase, the fire escape would have been the nail in that coffin. 

It had been a lovely night, absolutely jarring compared to the night before. You leaned back in the chair, you knew you weren’t the best at saying what you meant. Especially when the words you offered could be used to hurt you. Words of affection and love, when true, were daggers given handle-first to someone else. 

So you hoped Alastor could guess how much he meant to you. You shouldn’t need to say it, right? Actions speak louder than words. You bludgeoned a man to death for what you had thought was a lost cause. It had seemed Alastor was already dead when you first brought down the rock. 

Diamonds are rocks, you considered. The most expensive costume the theater had was peacock feathered with shining crystals. You wanted to say you felt like a peacock, spirit large and wide and colorful. But those were males. Of course they were. The animal kingdom had males compete for mates with pretty colors and lovely songs. Now ladies pranced around in painted faces and short dresses. You didn’t feel pale or small like the ‘fairer sex’ peacock.

You felt like the swan. Vicious and beautiful, not out shone by anyone.

Well there was someone you’d allow to shine brighter. Someone you’d happily let take the lead. You’d thought letting a man walk in front of you was a sign of subservience. It hadn’t ever occurred to you that there could be respect in trusting someone else to go ahead. That the act of going first could be for protection and not power.

“Hey!”

You hurried to the fire escape, “yeah?”

“There’s a man asking for you. Tall guy named Frank?”

Frank?

Oh, Frank.

You’d forgotten about him. He’d left months ago. He was a whale, rich and generous. You took a moment to consider sitting down with him, smiling and laughing at his jokes, letting his hand settle on your thigh. It had been weeks since you entertained scamming anyone, and now you couldn’t even stomach the idea of faking interest in another man. Frank wasn’t one to scam, he just liked having a pretty lady on his arm to make him feel young and wanted, and in exchange you got into private parties and were gifted jewelry and clothing.

“Tell him I’m busy and send him off.” You hollered down. You could buy your own clothes. 

“Did he leave?” Alastor asked you the next morning, you leaning against the glass phone booth in the early morning light.

Your finger wrapped around the phone cord, “No of course not! They never do. I snuck out the back.”

There was a hum, “Well my dear, you’ve offered me a wonderful transition into my next question.” Alastor was sitting at his kitchen table, nervously turning his coffee cup around in circles, “Would you like to come over tomorrow night? I can pick you up after your show.”

Like a glacier drifting away from shore, you very slowly crouched down in the booth. “To your home?” 

“No, to Alabama.” He waited a beat, “Yes of course my home. I can show you what happens after I drive away.” A cheeky smile evident through his voice.

You pressed the phone receiver into your chest, teeth chewing on your bottom lip. What happens when he drives away? So…where the bodies go. But most importantly, the biggest part of this—where he lives. So much can be gleaned about someone from their home. A bookshelf alone could make or break an attraction. You brought the receiver back to your mouth. “Lovely! Sure thing— Alastor. Yes.” you almost added on an awkward nickname like daddy-o or mister man, like an idiot, because your brain was misfiring like you’d seen him in the sunlight again.

Ah, you could see his bed. 

Where he slept.

Did he ever dream of you?

What if it was terribly dirty? Could you still love him if he was a slob? 

“I’m quite far from downtown, pack an overnight bag, okay?” He stopped fidgeting with the mug. When the call ended he sat at the table for some time, staring around the kitchen. The home was large by city standards, but it was old. His mother’s charm was evident through every part. A finger scratched at the wooden table, heavy and solid. Why was his heart racing? 

He walked to the screened back door, looking from the weathered patio steps to the greenhouse. 

No one had ever been to his home. Ever. A teensy part of him was panicking. Was this a mistake? Was he going to fuck up the budding relationship? Throw off the peace of his safest place?

Budding. Okay that was ridiculous even for him. The kind of intimacy gained through murder did not allow any union to be called budding. He’d shared pieces of himself no other living soul knew of. Your image of him was possibly even more complete than his own mother had held, even though he tried to always be the most sincere with her. Even people he did care for and consider close friends had never knew where he lived. Never heard what kept him up at night. Never learned his distaste for a random lay.

Opening the screen door with a signature creak, the sound many southerners could call comforting, he walked to the greenhouse.

The newest part of the property, the glass walled structure was built shortly after his mother’s death. Double doors: locked. Just beyond the glass was a forest of plants and potted trees. They had no need for a greenhouse, but Alastor had a need for them.

He set about preparing his home for another occupant, a task that brought him such a shock of joy and anxiety he began to wonder who he was. New sheets on the bed, extra pillows set against his wooden headboard. Large glass jar in the backyard full of water and tea bags.

It was also unexpected he was thinking so much of his mother. In a perfect world she’d be there to greet you. Though if she was alive, he wouldn’t have been in that alley that night. He made a mental note to not mention his mother, at least not as much as he was remembering her as he walked around the two story home tidying.

Would he have met you if he wasn’t a killer? 

A flicker of fear was quickly extinguished by romance. Definitely. You both ran in the same scenes. He’d seen you before that night, he just never approached you. He hadn’t anticipated how much more you were than the facade you put on. Nothing about your sweet face said, ‘I have a high tolerance for murder.’

Alastor spent the day at work physically present but mentally pacing his living room. He nodded along to discussions of who was to be live on set next, smile never faltering as he worried if he had breakfast foods. He rarely ate breakfast, did you? How had he not thought to ask. Sloppy.

The only outward sign he was feeling any stress was the tapping of his finger on his desk, which he hadn’t even noticed until the stage manager commented.  

“Alastoooor,” her voice was high, like it seemed many women’s voices were recently. Was it a trend? “Impatient? Hot date with a young lady this evening?”

While she meant well, she always pried, always asked questions he didn’t appreciate. 

Alastor shook his head, smile strained. A perceptive person would have picked up on it, but Brenda was not perceptive.

“Oh.” A noticeable disappointment, “That’s boring.”

Actually on second thought maybe she didn’t mean well.

“I’ve had too much coffee, is all, Brenda.” He pulled his hand into his lap. “Was there anything you needed?” 

“No,” she pouted, much less endearing than you.

If he murdered purely for fun Debra would be dead before sunset. Unfortunately her only crime was being remarkably annoying.

Alastor waited behind the theater, where it was less likely any staff would see him. It was still important to avoid connecting the two of you together, at least at your workplace yet. 

He was quick to grab your bag for you.

“Not the trunk, please.” You said, it took him a second to catch the joke. He set it on the back seat after opening your door for you. You’d only been in his car a few times but he never failed to be a perfect gentleman. 

Your palms were sweating, when his hand rested on your leg while he drove you resisted the urge to hold it. Instead you slipped yours under his. Alastor asked you about your day, about work, about if Frank came back. Typically as soon as you left the theater you were in a cone of silence until your phone call with him the next day. It was kind of nice, having someone to speak to. Before meeting him there were times you worried you’d forget how to talk naturally, how to sound like yourself.

The glowing eyes of deer popped up from the side of the road, startling you. Eerie. You held your breath, would they run, stay still, or sprint into the road.

“Is it true their antlers can break car windshields?” You asked not breaking eye contact with a doe as you drove past.

Alastor nodded, “If a buck hits your car the wrong way, not even the car will make it out of the accident.”

“Are there a lot of bucks around?”

“Will be soon, as fall— wait why am I telling you this,” he laughed, “Miss Autumn Hind already knows what makes the bucks run wild.”

You shouldn’t be smiling, it was a dumb rut joke, but it felt like a compliment. 

The car lights passed over the home as he turned into the dirt driveway. Powder blue. It wasn’t a color you associated with Alastor. He was caramel, honey, midnight blue, red. His sometimes sinister smile didn’t look quite right against powder blue. But, for a home, it was lovely.

“Is someone home?” You saw a light on in an upstairs room.

Alastor reached behind you for your bag, “No, I leave it on when I’m gone. Gives the impression that the house isn’t empty.”

A minor bit of acting, Alastor opening the door and offering to bring your bag upstairs before a tour like a good host. His anxious energy was barely contained by that grin of his. For your part you played the appropriately impressed guest.

But deep down you were very impressed. An actual house. Your mother struggled to keep apartments rented. Alastor had a home. With stairs. That went to more home, not a neighbor. What a lovely thing. What did he do with all this space?

He could probably hide quite a few bodies in there.

Alastor opened his bedroom door and motioned for you to enter.

You took in every detail as shrewdly as you could. Two circular nightstands, a wide dresser with a few framed photos and a radio. One large window facing the yard, you could see the car outside from where you were standing. “Wow a man’s bedroom. I tend to avoid these.”

“What a coincidence, so do I. Bedrooms in general, really.” He placed your bag on the dresser, offering to unpack it for you. Your smile screwed up, shaking your head no. You couldn’t imagine Alastor folding your panties and setting them into a drawer. 

Well.

“Yes please.” You took a seat on the end of his bed, watching him tenderly empty the bag before beginning to put things away like you’d come home from a trip. “A bed big enough for two people. You didn’t tell me you were a fancy man. Ooh la la.”

Alastor laughed, “Your bed was quite comfortable.” He set your dress onto a hook attached to the closet door, hands running down the fabric to straighten out the wrinkles, “But I have a feeling that had more to do with you than anything else.”

The floor was clean, the rug beneath the bed a simple but pristine white. What an odd color for a rug.  

You truly did avoid men’s homes. The power dynamic shifts too much.

“Are all men so clean?”

“Oh god no. Have you really never been to a man’s home?” Without a moment of hesitancy his long fingers flattened out your underthings and neatly folded them. You could call it erotic, knowing what else his fingers could do.

A hum, you swayed side to side, “Too much risk. I don’t know where the knife drawer is, which locks stick, what windows open all the way.” 

He set the empty bag into a reading chair in the corner, “That sounds stressful.”

You shrugged, “My mother taught me to always have an escape. From situations, from rooms, from people. Not terrible advice.”

That was true, he thought. If the few women he killed had considered that, he would be less prolific. Women tended to be easier in some regards.

Alastor finally let himself look at you sitting on his bed. Were you wearing the black garters today? He liked those. He appreciated the red dress you’d worn.

Taking off his jacket and vest, he hung them up while his eyes kept returning to you. Your legs were crossed, thighs soft and pressed together. He remembered feeling them against his ears. A little cough to clear his throat and mind.

“Are you hungry?”

You werent, but you weren’t ready for sleep either, so you asked for some bread and butter. Alastor sat beside you at the table, watching you look around. It didn’t look like a killer's home. 

“Ya know, I was going to rob you. I had been wanting to talk to you, before that guy caught me off guard when I was smoking.” You said it easily. 

He smiled, “Oh, why’d you change your mind?”

“Well, you slit a man’s throat in front of me.”

“Tsk tsk, you give up too easily, my dear.”

Salted butter, soft bread. Simple. Happy. “You were so handsome-,”

“We’re?”

A snort of a laugh, rolling your eyes dramatically, “and you looked well off. I was searching the room for the lights reflecting off of your glasses all night.”

Alastor grimaced, fighting the well of his ego, and leaned on his elbows, “Is it too morbid to say I’m glad that man tried to kill you? I like this timeline more than being robbed and never seeing you again.”

“That’s very selfish. I would have enjoyed chasing you down and finessing your wallet off you.” You set the glass lid back over the butter dish, content with the snack. “Some men come back actually and confront me at the theater.”

He howled. The idea was ridiculous, “Seriously? Why not just tell the cops.”

“Men don’t like telling other men they got taken for a ride by a dame.”

Alastor stood, “What would you have done if you had robbed me and I marched into the theater demanding my cash back.” It took a second to realize he was being serious in wanting you to play along. 

You popped the last piece of bread into your mouth and stood too, “You rake!” A fake smack to his chest, “I booted you to the curb! You had more hands than an octopus!” 

Alastor tried to stay in character but his smile kept cracking through his serious face. “And my wallet? None of my hands can find it.” You took a few steps back, feigning shock at the accusation.

“Sir! You were so drunk I’m not surprised you lost it.” When Alastor closed the space between you with two wide steps and pulled you into his chest you giggled, hitting softly at him, “You should be ashamed of yourself. Trying to take advantage,” his hands wandered down your hips, making your voice catch in your throat, “of a good woman like me.”

His mouth came to your ear, “Well, miss, I think you owe me the opportunity to try again.”

You went stiff against him, the sudden turn of his voice into seduction taking you by surprise, “If you were a real mark, I’d punch you in the face for saying that.”

“But for me?” Breath against your neck.

Your hands slid up his chest and to his collar, pulling him down and into a kiss. His smile spread across your lips. 

His mouth stayed against your cheek as he pulled you into a hug, “Ready for bed?”

“Are you sleepy, hun?” You pulled away, a sincerely worried face. Two nights now you’d interrupted his normal routine.

Alastor’s eyes seemed to sparkle behind his glasses, head shaking, “No, not at all.” You felt the heat rise up your face. Wanting to avoid assumptions, you tried to temper your expectations.

His hand pulled you toward the stairs, you dragging your feet, “Did you want to show me around?”

“In the daylight.” He led you up the stairs and to the right.

“Oh okay….”, your mind was reeling, mouth dry. No dead body in sight. No blood. You hadn’t pressed him or asked for anything. Maybe he just wanted a good cuddle, or some kisses. You often enjoyed necking near the car before he would go home. Right. Let him lead.

You followed him, letting him guide you hand in hand back to his bedroom.

ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar,@straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows , @b-o-n-e-daddy , @one-and-only-tay , @asleeponelmstreet , @tremendoushearttaco , @mutifandomkid , @sapphirecaelis , @itzzzkiramylove@saccharine-nectarine , @viannasthings , @looking1016 , @ultimate-duck-king-lucifer , @blakeaha , @astraechos , @reath-solia ,

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

@faeoffaith , @sailorsmouth , @jeannyjaykaydeh , @jyoongim , @cosmic-lavender , @saturn-alone , @lustylita , @radio-darling , @kaylopolis , @dickmastersworld , @leviskittywh0re , @asianfrustration13 @alittletiredcry @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp , @angelxx7 , @katgirl05 , @impulsivethoughtsat2am , @sugurubabe , @zzzykiek , @phamtasic

[mammonsrockstargf]

Satan would love goodreads.

He sees you one day, reviewing a book on your phone in the living room of HOL. He stands behind where you're sitting on the couch, peering over your shoulder, watching your finger press the four stars on the book you just read.

“What’s that?” he asks. You look back and smile at him, showing him your D.D.D. He leans down curiously, resting his hands on the back of the sofa while reading the words on your screen.

“It’s an app where I can rate the books I read,” you say. He reaches for your phone and looks at you for approval which you give with a nod.

He scrolls the app, checking out your reviews. “Isn’t it smart? You can give the books stars and write reviews and then you can look back on what you’ve read!” you exclaim, gesturing excitedly with your hands. Satan's gaze flickers from his phone to you and a light blush grazes his cheeks when he catches your excitement over books. “Yeah, that’s pretty cool,” he says, giving you back your phone while clearing his throat.

Now, Satan doesn’t really think he needs Goodreads. Demons have an excellent memory and most of the books on the app are human books, so he’d have to write in Devildom books manually, but he figures it wouldn’t be all that bad to download the app just so he can see your reviews. Plus, he does read a lot of books…

And boy, does he write the most scalding reviews. Everytime you see him rate a new book, you get genuinely concerned for the authors well being if Satan didn’t like the book.

I have lived for thousands of years and will live for thousands more and yet I wish I could regain the six hours I wasted on this horrible book.

I would rather spend a decade chained to Lucifer himself than read this horrible pile of shite again.

The plot was bland as fuck and the language barely did anything to make up for it, what a sad excuse for literature.

You come to look forward to these reviews, giggling whenever he gets particularly brutal. It’s a side of him you hardly ever see.

One day you recommend him a bad book on purpose, just to see what he’ll do. It’s quite easy to blind side him because Satan hardly ever checks on what’s new in the human literature world.

When you get to notification that he’s read it, you immediately press it, excited to see what he’s said, only to find the review relatively… tame?

Your brows furrow as you read the half-assed text, complimenting the plot twist at the end. “Didn’t see it coming.” It reads and you shake your head. That plot twist had been some of the absolute worst you’ve ever read. You’d been excited to see Satan tear it apart and call on the lazy ending.

You recommend him another book that you’re sure he’ll hate. Once again, the review is fine. Even the small following Satan has gained on the app seems confused.

This book is fucking horrible, why did he give it three stars?

Yeah, I followed him for his brutally honest reviews, but this is just weird.

You recommend him a bad book for the third time, just for good measure. “There’s no way he’ll be able to pretend to like this one,” you think as you innocently bat your eyes lashes at him and give him the book. Satan hesitates for a bit, looking down at the book. Then he sends you a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah, I’ll give it a go.”

You’re lying in bed when Satan barges into your room. “Satan, what are you-“ he plops the book down in front of you on the bed and crosses his arms. “Are you doing this on purpose?” A smile tugs at your lips before you think better of it and quickly fake a confused expression.

“What? I would never!” you say and he rolls his eyes and begin pacing your room. His fists are rolled into tight balls, knuckles turning white. He’s kind of hot like this you realize.

“Did you not like the book?” you ask and he stops pacing to just stare at you for a few seconds. “Are you serious? It made me want to rip my fucking eyes out!” he shouts and you giggle.

Satan feels like he’s going insane. Are you toying with him or something?

“What’s going on?” he asks and you shrug, sending him a mischievous smile. “I didn’t mean to tease you…” you say. “I just liked your reviews on bad books, so I thought I’d recommend you a bad book on purpose,” you begin to explain. Satan's mouth slightly opens and his brows raise at you.

“But then your reviews were so nice all of a sudden so I just kept recommending-“ You’re interrupted by Satan's manic laughter. He’s glaring at the ceiling, looking kind of insane in all honesty and you begin to wonder if you’ve maybe pushed him a bit too far this time.

You wrap your arms around your knees as your bed creaks with Satan's weight as he sits down next to you. “Are you even aware of how much I had to hold back-“ Satan grumbles, while he draws closer to you. His brows are pinched and his eyes are flashing green.

“Wait what?” you interrupt. “You held back because you didn’t want to upset me?”

“No!” Satan huffs and scratches his head. “I mean I thought you liked those books,” he says and pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes shut, while letting out a long breath.

“Oh, you big softie!” You chuckle as realisation dawns upon you.

“I am not a softie!” Satan's eyes snap open again. “You so are!” You squeal when Satan is on you, so you’re pressed against the bed, trapped between Satan's hands on either side of your head. Much to your surprise he begins tickling you. “Satan, no!” you yelp and try to get away from him, with no prevail.

“Take your punishment, human!” The demon howls. You’re gasping for air, lightly slapping his chest, in a fit of laughter. The side of Satan’s mouth quirks up. “This is the next best thing to eating you!”

a/n: thank for reading! <3 you can find my other stuff here

[running-with-kn1ves]

Sleepy Afternoons

A/N: Teehee ngl I just wrote this as a period comfort fic indulgent for myself. I hope you nerds enjoy it as much as I liked writing it!

CW: AFAB reader on period, jokes of breeding, using a dragon as a heating pad, pretty much just fluff

WC:2000

Synopsis: A lazy Sunday, the perfect start to a week on your period where you'll be constantly pestered by your dragon boyfriend.

A dragon’s hoard in times long before consisted of fine jewels and immense mounds of gold, shiny objects as far as the eye could see. Whether it was stuffed in the depths of a cave or deep in the forest, a hoard barred spikes and “DO NOT ENTER” warnings; whether they were legible or not was never up to the righteous dragon’s responsibility.

Adventurers and bandits never heeded these signs of caution, getting stuck in the narrow holes meant for dragons to shimmy through or meeting their demise through puzzles and endless booby traps-- such monsters were thorough in keeping their treasure safe. Any item that caught the creatures attention could be found in their rich reservoirs, even if they were mere wave-smoothened stones from a lake, an old lover, or a prettily decked-out concubine that was too tempting not to take. 

That however, was centuries ago. Dragons, like the rest of us, must conform to modern society, technology too powerful and people too abundant to go around flying and terrorizing just to get one’s hands on a pretty penny.

Your boyfriend, once a ravenous creature with a cave of glittering gems and fine craftsmanship-- that he may or may not have maimed many blacksmiths to steal-- now resided with you in too big of a bedroom. You had argued before buying the apartment; who would need this much space? But his hoarder tendencies clearly made up for the abundance in space. Gaming consoles, silvery granola bar wrappers, aluminum dollar store trinkets, books with glittery covers-- the floor was almost unseeable with his trash and treasure mixed together. He wasn’t necessarily dirty-- in fact every item had its own spot and preferred place, which is why it killed a piece of him any time you threw away something that should not be “decorating” your shared home. 

Though as you practically took care of both of you, it was hard to keep up being the caregiver in the relationship. Especially, on your period. Sunday, what a perfect day, to realize you had a whole work week ahead of mood swings and lower abdominal pain, all mixed with the gory massacre you’d face every time you went to the bathroom. Your cramps didn’t usually come in this early of a start, but it seemed like nothing was going quite right today.

“T’s wrong, darlin’?” Your draconic, crusty-eyed boyfriend mumbled into your back. “Somethin’ hurting…?”

He had been asleep since noon, ignoring the stream of yellow shining down on him from between the cracks of the blinds. But with those poor eyes and slightly above average listening skills, he completely ignored the sun and heard your groans of pain as you curled into a ball. The aching in your lower tummy was like hellfire, crisp burning and somersaults of your organs unlike any other pain than usual. Nothing was helping, no cold rags or medicine, it was like your infinite headache and body pains were destined to consume you. 

“C’mon baby answer me, I wanna help..” He pouted again.

“Just my stomach..” You downplayed, not sure if you could handle his frantic coddling if he realized you’re period started. The last time you made the mistake of doing so, you had pads stacked to the brim in your bathroom cabinets and tampons in your closets, the mass shoplifting endeavor of his creating even less space in your home. Well, atleast you were set for the next fifty-seven or so cycles.

 “I just need to rest n’ I’ll be fine, soon…” 

Another wave of pain came through, head ringing as soft nails raked up and down your sweating back. 

‘When will this be over,’ you wondered. 

Maybe that horrible breeding endeavor your boyfriend was always obsessed with was worth it if it meant you wouldn’t have to suffer through this for nine months. Yeah, just nine months of morning sickness and bloating and growing a whole dragon-human parasite inside of you. But hey… the making part wouldn’t be too bad, and atleast you would be crotch-pain free. 

Man, now the pain was really talking through you.

“Yer period, right?” Your dragon wonders, scratching the back of his head. He’s more awake now, and you wish he was still passed out grabbing onto you, even through the sticky sweat from his body heat. “I’m sorry baby…I know it hurts. What’you want me to do?”

“How’d you even know..” You groan, almost annoyed at how keen he is. Next thing you’d know he’d be shoving some pretty pawn shop jewelry for you to hold to distract you from the pain.

“I don’t think.. You want to know. And well there’s the obvious, I noticed you changed the bed covers.”

Oh lord, was he talking about that split tongue-nose smell-ability ‘dragon thing’ again? Could your embarassment get any worse?

“Does that mean you’ve… EVERY TIME? Every time you knew?”

He sheepishly fell into the new sheets of warmth, those dark eyebrows lifted in innocence.

“Sometimes before you knew, I think.”

Officially, you wish your boyfriend was asleep again. Maybe you’d just strangle him to end this mind-numbing conversation. 

“What can I do?” He repeated. “Get you more pads?” 

“No.” You shut him down as soon as the words left his mouth. 

“What then? A snack, more pillows? Now’s the time to be babied, you know. Unless you’d be okay with me coming to work with you--” 

You groaned, partly to shut him up and to vocalize the squeezing, contracting inside of you. 

His clawed fingers came to cradle your belly, right below your belly button on your pelvic muscle. He rubbed, just gently, back and forth with a slight pressure as your head buried into the sheets beneath you. 

“Just this.. is fine..” You murmur, feeling hot, humid breath exhale against your neck, emerald green slits baring into your twisted expression. He was watching you, the way your body reacted, the little signals of discomfort. 

You heard a slight flutter of his wings as they adjusted, his body fitting against yours like a puzzle piece; it was nice to be the small spoon again, rather than cradling your needy dragon lover like a cocoon as he so often desired. 

The dragon slowly pushed a leg between your bunched knees that stuck together, getting easier access to your tummy. His palm was so warm, as the torso flushed behind you kept a reassuring prresence. You almost turned on your back to get his palm farther against your stomach, the slight pressure and warm temperature soothing the ache in your lower back and groin. 

“You know… I could always breed ya, then you wouldn’t have to--” 

“Don’t try to convince me right now.” you spat, turning into him as his hand worked magic, the other brushing hair off of your neck and cheek. “That’s not an option, especially right now.”

“Well, at the very least I can make you feel good. Might ease up some of the pain, yeah?” He laid back down to lean in closer. 

You sighed; he clearly didn’t understand the discomfort and embarrassment that his oh-so keen intimacy would bring you right now. You loved the sentiment, and maybe you’d be up for it if you weren’t solely thinking about your physical misery, but you barely had the fortitude to look back toward him. 

Your dragon buried his flared nose into the top of your head, lined against you like a perfectly shaped heat blanket. 

“You wouldn’t even have to do anything.. I’ll do whatever makes ya feel better.” His other hand snakes beneath your hip against the bed mattress, pulling you back toward his body even closer, if possible. The warm, spiked fingers tapping alongside your pelvic bone made your skin spark, your lower stomach buzzing with numbed pain and a fullness that made you want to sleep for another week. “I don’t like seeing you like this.” He frowns. “Your face.. You look so, uncomfortable.”

“Wow, thanks.” You jab, feeling a heated tail slither up your knee, to your thigh. It almost flicked in apology. “Mm.. Just stay my heating pillow and I’ll be fine.” 

“I can do that.” The confidence in his voice worries you, knowing he’ll do an unnecessary load of more than you asked for. Your fetal position was gently yanked free, a pounced creature on your back as you’re forced onto your stomach. “I’ll be the best spiky heating pad you’ve ever seen.”

The strong, scaled forearms of your draconic spouse come to wrap around your hips, a burning touch ringing from his skin, worming his way beneath your comfortable pajama pants and shirt, skin on skin as his body temperature rises to accommodate your desires. His forearms seem to ripple against you, fingers tickling your sides as his legs trap against your thighs from above, most if not every length of his body pulsating against yours like a live, scaly cocoon intent on making you his personal plush, and he your sweet, warm monster. 

“Feel better baby…” He kissed at the nape of your neck, sandpapery forked tongue popping out to lick away your sweat. “It’ll be over soon.. I’ma make it all better.”

You leaned deeper into the stuffy mattress sheets, the pressure on your abdomen welcomly encouraged as you push as far as possible into his fiery hands.

“I’m betting on it.” You muffle into the pillows, squirming your hips against his his body, warm chest and carved quadriceps surrounding you. The slight pressure of his inner thighs against your hips was welcoming, his mounted position atop of you seemingly odd to an outsider-- but you didn’t care how weird it might’ve looked, as the calm of your gutted abdomen took over. 

You yawned into the side of the pillow as you turned your head, lifting your hips just a little to soak in the heat radiating from behind you. 

“Awe’d, so sleepy huh? Need a little nap?” the dragon behind you poked. 

Who knew a murderous, millenium-old dragon would be sweet-talking you so gently-- just a few centuries ago he was murdering travelers for stumbling just a few steps too close to his prized hoard. 

“But I just woke up.” You protest, upset at the sleepiness of the afternoon that was rubbing off from your draconic lover on you. “Got too much to do, can’t lay in bed all day..like you.” 

You groan into the pillow as a wave of cramps hit you, only slightly set ajar by the gentle massaging of the skin above your pelvic bone. 

“Hrmm.” Your boyfriend thinks, shoving his warmly snout against your neck. “I guess it’s unfortunate that I’m not going to be letting you go then. Not allowed to get up until you feel better.” 

You laugh, taking one of your dragon’s toasty hands to your chest to hold onto. 

“I’ll be here all week, then.”

It was here you felt the safest, the warmest, the most vulnerable and easily devourable-- well, thankfully dragon’s didn’t particularly have a taste for the flesh of humans. Shutting your eyes, you let the guttural ‘hrmm’s’ of your dragon lull you to thoughtlessness. 

“If that’s what it takes..” He presses a deep kiss close to your forehead, relishing in the sweet scent of your hair. The huffs from his nose tickle the back of your ears, such petrichor warmth and humidity so reminiscent of past lazy mornings. “You’re not going anywhere, my diamond.”