#everyone else was there but not long enough to be important lmao

[coldvampire]

.

[atrwriting]

future problems — coriolanus snow x fem!wife!reader

hi everyone :) jumping on the bandwagon

this man is so fine i couldn’t help myself. i hope everyone had an amazing holiday if they celebrate — i celebrate christmas, so here is my almost 10k word christmas gift to all of you xoxo love u all v much thank you for reading !!

as always, warnings: corio-lame-o is a fucking warning holy fuck, smuuuuut, arranged marriage (i think this counts?), coriolanus is a distrustful evil fuck (but he’s super hot), fem!reader, reader is married to this dickhead (i say as if i wouldn’t want to be lmao), angst, sexism and misogyny is def in here, p in v penetration, m receiving oral, choking, dom!corio, asshole!corio, sub!reader, subspace kinda

informal warnings: bro what the fuck was i on this is literally 10.2k words and i refuse to edit because im super lazy anyway we die like men you've been warned

anyways… here is future problems:

he never wanted to get married.

he saw it as a potential problem, one that would most definitely lead to loose ends — and he hated loose ends.

despised them.

however, his innate need to maintain an image was far more important to him. he weighed the costs and benefits in his head like an algorithm — check, check, check. coriolanus’ mind left no stone unturned, especially when future problems were to be squashed before they could ever be wiped from memory. in the end… he decided he would marry.

and it would be you.

he never allowed himself to be naive — so he would never allow himself to marry someone he already loved. lucy gray? a child’s want for something they can’t have, and something they wouldn’t realize until later that it was a walking regret. no — he could never marry someone that would harm him. absolutely not. out of the question. therefore, it had to be you.

it had to be you because what harm would you cause him? you were shy, quiet, of satisfactory social standing, and uncontroversial. everything a patriarch of the snow family would want. deserved. be entitled to.

he needed someone that wouldn’t be a problem — a loose end in the future. he had conquered so much — he refused to let anything else, especially as irrelevant as a significant other, stand in his way.

however… it did not aid him in his stone-cold lack of a love affair conquest that you were absolutely breathtaking.

at first, it was just an ego boost. he simply couldn’t stop his thoughts from voicing, of course she’s perfect. the snow legacy can only have perfect.

but then… oh, then…

then he saw your smile.

oh, your smile.

your fucking smile.

the first time he caught himself enjoying it — he scolded himself. he refused to see you for a week. a punishment of sorts. more so for him than for you. after, he refused to let his eyes wander on the pretty features of your face for him to witness a reaction to something someone had said or done. he didn’t want to be reminded of what it was like to experience joy or peace because someone else was experiencing it — that was what almost costed him everything he had built.

no one would ever tear that down. not again, not ever.

no one.

when the day of your marriage came, it was business as usual. he refused to meet eye contact, and did not partake in more conversations with you than he had to. he could tell you felt uncomfortable — but he forced himself not to care. he drove it down, down, down like a miner drilling for more coal — hoping, one day, it would be worth it.

and it was… until he was sick.

it was a minor ailment — nothing major, but he was on bedrest for about a week or two. he had employed enough adequate members to his staff to feel that things would at least be taken care of until then. he also found comfort in the fact that two weeks was not long enough for something irreversible to occur. if a problem had taken placed, he would be able to rectify it once he was well and able and… set aside the responsible party.

however, he did not expect one problem.

and that would be you.

he knew you were asking to see him. he knew, he knew, he knew, but he refused to let you in. you were not disrespectful — you had only asked once a day, which happened to be every day in the afternoon. he had picked you specifically because you were too quiet to be annoying. however, his own perfect, pristine, and proper plan had stabbed him in the back. he had never considered that the perfect, pristine, and proper wife would be this dutiful to him, checking in once a day on his condition and to speak with him. despite his illness, he laughed at himself — leave it to him to not expect the expected: the hand-selected dutiful wife would, in fact, be dutiful.

he had to put an end to it. he couldn’t keep saying no for another week. how was he expected to get better if you kept bothering him?

so he let you in. this once. just this once. he reasoned that if he let you in this once, you would be less persistent. just this once — and another problem would cease to plague his mind.

just this once, he chanted in his head. just this once.

he sat up straighter, and attempted to shape his hair so it wasn’t terribly unkept. he reasoned that if you saw him appearing to be healthy, you wouldn’t feel the need to come back. he thought —

but he couldn’t finish the thought.

because you walked in.

smelling like fucking lilacs.

lilacs, of all things. lilacs! not roses, not anything else — lilacs. he did not hate lilacs, but he despised the actual flower. only beautiful for so long before it died and the stench was intolerable. an inconvenience. a nuisance. a guaranteed future problem.

however, when you gifted him with a small smile — you realized why small shows of beauty were so valuable in this world. no one else saw your smile — except for those closest to you. people he hand selected to be around you to prevent future problems. he realized then — he had more control and ownership over your smile than either of you thought.

he was so stunned by your smile he didn’t even notice the tray of tea and cakes in your hand. you took a few steps towards him and he shifted in place.

“i brought your favorites,” you spoke softly. “i know you should rest — i just wanted to ask if there was anything i could do to make your recovery easier.”

“no, thank you,” he replied, voice raspy. “i should be well in a few days.”

you nodded and offered an uneasy smile. his eyes flickered over to how once you had set down the tray on his beside, you slowly wiped the palm of your hands down the front of your dress. your eyes were cast absentmindedly in front of you, on the wall — and he could tell something was plaguing your thoughts.

he then also realized there was a book on the tray, much to his dismay.

“someone had mentioned that this was your favorite author. this was published a few days ago,” you began. “i understand that you have been experiencing headaches, and may find it difficult to read… so i wanted to offer to read aloud for you, in case you found these walls dull.”

you smiled — it was an attempt at a joke. he smiled back, but only to be polite. “today i find myself wanting to sleep. i appreciate your offer.”

you smoothed your hands over your dress once more before nodding and forcing a smile. “i’ll leave you to it, then.”

you did not bid him farewell — and he found himself wondering if he was annoyed or grateful. you simply exited the room, and let the door shut softly behind you.

he scrunched his eyes at the door, swallowing hard.

however, he didn’t understand why.

he had wanted this. the perfect wife — knowing when to take a hint and frankly, fuck off. you had done that, perfectly well — so why was he pissed?

he then found himself glaring angrily at his favorite tea cakes. the swap of sugar for honey, another one of his favorites. his favorite author, a book he was excited to read when he was better. he knew that you hadn’t asked about him — he employed people with the requirement to let him know when you were asking questions. he knew your every outward thought and concern, and sometimes even the ones that weren’t shared aloud because they were so evident on your face.

and then he realized: you noticed things like he noticed things.

however, he knew why he went out of his way to notice things, but why did you?

his jaw clenched as he glared angrily at the wall in front of him. he picked up a tea cake and chewed it aggressively, swallowing it half-intact. he coughed at the barely there food, anger rising further to his flushed cheeks.

he needed to understand how, and he most certainly needed to understand why.

he never went out of his way to get to know you, because he thought he already did. he thought he had you boiled down to one thing, and one thing only: passive. incapable of proving to be any sort of roadblock that was capable of getting in his way. now that he knew you shared something with him, what else was shared? was there something he had to look out for? was there something he missed? was he wrong about you?!

he had to know. he had to.

to do that… he called you back that evening. it was two hours before midnight, and he knew you were awake. despite having separate chambers, he knew your daily schedule. you would be reading at this moment, and he would ask you to read for him.

as if on cue, he heard a soft rapping on the wood of the door. he beckoned you in, and you entered the room. you were clad in a night dress with a matching robe over it, all pink silk. this time, he returned your smile.

"i apologize for the late hour," he spoke. "i hope you had not retired for the night."

you shook your head, your tendrils of perfect hair shaking slightly. "i was reading. i am glad you sent for me — can i get you anything?"

"i was hoping the offer to read for me was still on the table," he rasped. "i find myself unable to sleep."

you blinked once, staring at him. in an instant, a small smile was threatening to overtake your face into a large one. you cast your eyes down to a blushing manner, but his eyes narrowed slightly on your face. what would you get out of reading for him? what we he not seeing? what did he miss?

"of course," you responded. "i have not had a chance to read anything by this author. i am glad i have the chance now."

why. why. why.

he did not show his discontent. he simply rested back against the pillows as you reached for the book on his bedside table. you sat down on a chair on his side, and you crossed your legs. he eyed the small portion of the exposed, soft skin of your legs and wondered if your new ploy would be to try and seduce him. however, you quickly covered your skin with the extra material over your robe and placed the book in your lap. once opened, you read for him.

he was not listening to what you were saying, but he was listening to how you said it. the tone, the enunciation, the pauses, and the speed. he wanted to find some clue as to why you had made it a point to be at his beck and call, and he wanted to see how long the act would last until it dropped.

the act would drop. it always did.

the hour would approach midnight before he found that he could not discern anything from how you were reading aloud. his plan did not yield the results intended, as you had not broken from fulfilling his task for two hours. two hours. you had not stopped out of boredom or exhaustion, nor to talk to him. you were poised, soft, and he hated to admit it... but sweet. he found your voice sweet, and he hated it.

and he fucking hated himself for it.

he needed this to end so he could plan further. out of necessity, he yawned. if you were to apt at picking up clues, then hopefully you would believe that he was finally tired. you had succeeded in his given task, and you were free to go.

but you had kept reading for him.

he grew angry.

when you had paused to breathe, he spoke up. "I think i am able to sleep now. thank you, sweetheart, for indulging me."

your eyeline raised with your eyebrows, almost out of surprise. you either were not expecting him to ask you to stop, or you did not want to stop. he wondered which, and if that would answer his ultimate question.

"my apologies, i should've inquired sooner," you replied. "he is a very talented writer... i found myself enjoying his perspective."

you grabbed a piece or scrap paper from his bedside table, and tucked it in between the pages where you left off.

"most people would fold the corner," he remarked, eyes drifting closed — a show.

you smiled. "i didn't want to ruin the integrity of your book. goodnight, coriolanus."

she left with another smile — and all he was left with was confusion, and rage.

the next morning, he found himself wanting to call you back in for a further rouse interview. he would have if he had a plan in place.

that was the second thing about you that annoyed him: you annoyed him to the point where he wanted to act without a plan in place. a loss of control —which he was highly against.

that would have to be righted immediately.

he spent the morning reading the pages that you had already read to brief himself as if he was listening last night. he reasoned with himself that the best course of action would be to ask you to read to him again to see if you had grown comfortable enough to let a few of your true colors slip.

they always slip.

the sudden task that was presented to him gave him a new bout of energy that he needed to inch closer to recovery. it gave him the push he needed to be closer to walking out of this room and continue to run panem, and he was lost grateful to you for giving it to him — almost. at the moment, you were a problem — and that needed to be corrected. immediately.

he found comfort in control, so he was very content with routines. he had grown accustomed to bracing himself for your check-in in the afternoon. however, it did not come until the approaching hours of the evening had almost descended upon the capitol. he waited, and waited, and waited — so long that he considered asking you to come for himself. the hour would approach dinnertime when you had finally asked about his well-being, and he sent for you.

how dare you ask so late in the day, as if you didn't care? he allowed you access to his life that he had denied you for so long, and you return his kindness with carelessness? this would not do. this most certainly would not do.

you had knocked on his door, and he had to stop himself from sounding to eager. he permitted you entry, and you entered with the same soft smile.

"good evening," you greeted.

"hello," he replied, voice still raspy from his sickness.

"I wanted to ask if you need anything," you announced.

he offered a small smile. "i enjoyed our time last night. perhaps you would read for me, again?"

your eyes fell to the floor in a blush. "of course. I was hoping to read more of the book eventually. i found it intriguing."

you sat down in the chair and pulled the book in your lap. as you were opening it, he spoke, "i thought when you had not checked-in in the early afternoon you found the book dull — afraid i would ask for you to read it for me again."

you shook your head as you smiled. "i like his writing very much — i was concerned as to whether i had prevented you from sleeping the night prior, and didn't want to disturb you further."

he swallowed. "why would you have disturbed me?"

your eyes glanced upwards from the pages to rest on his face. coriolanus stared back as slight concern washed over your features, making your lips part and your eyes widen. your tongue darted out from between your lips, and smoothed over the skin of your bottom lip. you responded, "before you fell ill, we hadn't spent much time together and i understand that is because of your position — but, to be frank, i wanted to respect your space.”

your answer perplexed coriolanus. he wanted to find out what type of person you were — and your answers were not yielding the expected results. there was no obvious form of manipulation in your words, which then worried him. were you smarter than he believed you to be? were you as cunning as him? more so?

so he went with what was natural: manipulation.

“i apologize my station has not granted us the freedom to get to know each other further,” he replied, holding your gaze. “it is a regret of mine.”

you smiled in an affirmative manner, like you didn’t believe him but accepted his answer anyway. this expression arose the same feelings he now detested your presence for: he acted without calculating his actions and the outcome they would produce.

“what troubles you?” he asked.

your lips parted and slightly quivered. you were not expecting him to ask.

“i-i was worried that i may not… please you,” you admitted. “that… you may regret our union.”

“you have been a kind and dutiful wife,” coriolanus spoke, eyes holding yours. “there is no regret.”

there was that affirmative smile again. he found himself hating it — wishing it would be replaced by the warm, soft one.

“i guess i was hoping that, when i was married, the marriage would be more than… a union.”

your candor shocked coriolanus. he would never have expected you to say something… so out of turn.

“please, forgive me,” you spoke, slightly laughing and waving your hand in the air. “the hour is almost late and i was hoping to read more. do you still wish me to?”

“please,” he answered and nodded.

you gave him a quick, thankful smile, and began reading.

this would be the second night coriolanus had not listened to a word you had said.

he had gotten his answer, and it was possibly as bad as the one he was actually afraid for.

you were good. pure, innocent, and your outlook on the world untainted. you were not striving to find a loose screw and let the empire fall. you wanted… to support the man who built and kept the empire together. it was worse than anything he could’ve ever imagined — you actually cared for him.

you cared for him, and now coriolanus snow was fucking terrified.

and yet... he had asked you to return to his chambers every night after that.

for research purposes, of course. only research purposes,

to read to him, but his goal was to learn more about you rather than the text.

you would sit there and read until he asked you to stop. when he did, you would close the book, smile at him, place it back on his nightstand, and bid him goodnight.

after, he would wrestle with the blankets and pillows in order to find out how to deal with this.

how had he not expected this?

his only fault was that he neglected to realize how far your shyness would go. you had grown comfortable with him — and you admitted that you wanted something more, something he always felt he could not give. you weren’t shy — you just weren’t open with people you weren’t comfortable with.

he should’ve known. he should’ve. fucking. known.

he didn’t know how to deal with this, if he was being honest with himself.

he told himself that he asked for you every evening to get to know you better, for his own sanity and safety; but then he began to realize he had found out everything he needed to know.

good and honest. how fucking unfortunate.

he saw a part of you, but now he needed to know more.

so what did he do? he sent you flowers. flowers. an arrangement of red roses and lilacs.

he hated himself for the lilacs.

he got somewhere with you when he had made the first move before — maybe this would yield more promising results.

however, it didn’t.

all he received in return was an extra tray of food that had arrived in the afternoon. his favorite tea cakes, and a handwritten thank-you note detailed in your appreciation for the beautiful flowers. you signed your name, and that was it.

she doesn’t make first moves, he thought. she responds to them.

he knew what he had to do.

he found himself feeling better that day — well enough to end his sick leave and return to his matters. dinner was approaching, and he sent for you to join him for a private dinner this evening.

he was washed, dressed, and coiffed within the hour.

he found you in the dining parlor waiting for him, inspecting his large bookcase. you were trying to reach a book a bit above where your height would allow, extending yourself onto your toes. coriolanus walked up behind you, towering over you, and retrieved the book for you.

you glanced up at him with wide eyes. “thank you, coriolanus.”

“what intrigued you?” he asked, grinning softly.

“first one i couldn’t reach. i was working my way up.” you smiled at him, and then the book. “please — you must be hungry. let us eat.”

you sat down at the table across from him. dinner manners were rather stiff and uncomfortable, but your upbringing that was similar to coriolanus’ prevented you from straying from them. you ate in silence for a few moments before you spoke.

“how do you like his new book?” you asked.

coriolanus cleared his throat. “i find it riveting. i wouldn’t have been able to read it for some time if it hadn’t been for you.”

you smiled at your plate, blushing. “his points are very interesting. i was never very interested in politics — so the insight of someone so heavily involved with them is very informative. do you find that your opinions align with his? or does he not share your perspective?”

he appreciated your willingness to engage with him about topics you weren’t very fond of. an underrated trait, not found very often — he had to admit.

“a bit of both,” he responded. “the one thing he does not discuss is how important it is to have a certain type of person or persons in your regime that allows the flow of success to continue.”

you nodded. “you have built a strong administration — i’m sure he would admire what you have to say.”

“what do you believe?” he asked. “about partnerships?”

you swallowed, contemplating your answer. “i think… a successful partnership is where everyone is complimented by another. for instance, someone is better at briefing documents rather than the presentation of them, and another is the opposite.”

“which one are you?” coriolanus inquired.

you paused once more, folding your lip under. he realized that was a sign you were uncomfortable — unaware of how to proceed. after a moment, you answered, “i feel the most confident under a strong leader. i prefer to be behind the scenes. minute details are easier to be taken care of that way. while you and i are different, i respect you for being the strong leader panem needed. i am sure the majority would agree with me.”

now was the time.

“it is easy to be strong when one’s wife makes sure they are well,” he replied, eyes resting on your face. “i hope you know i appreciate your willingness to accept change and make sure needs are met.”

you smiled at him once more, then turned back to your food.

damn, he thought. didnt bite.

“and for being the companion i… didn’t think i would come to enjoy the company of,” he added.

you glanced up at him then, astonishment written in your eyes as plain as the words on the paper you read for him every night. “may i ask you… a question?”

he nodded.

“did you believe you wouldn’t enjoy my company before, or after you had first met me?”

“i don’t understand.”

you swallowed, clearing your throat. “were you… wary of the idea of marriage, or wary of me?”

your gaze did not break from his. you were braver than he thought.

“marriage,” he answered honestly, hoping to witness your reaction.

there was the affirmative smile — the one he hated. “thank you for — for being honest.”

your eyes didn’t wait for a response. you turned back to your food, and left him dumbstruck.

“i hope i have not displeased you,” he stated.

“no, coriolanus,” you spoke. “if i am being honest… i was wary i would not be suitable for you. if i have not displeased you, then i am well.”

“but you stated you wanted more,” he countered, tone even.

“i hoped we would… spend time together,” you answered. “and we have.”

it was coriolanus’ turn to be at a loss for words. what would this admission relay? it only solidified what he was afraid of — you wanted a marriage filled of love, and he was not prepared for that. ever.

“the flowers were beautiful,” you spoke, interrupting his thoughts. “thank you for sending them.”

“your lilac perfume is a wonderful addition to the capitol,” he spoke, unsure where this had come from. “i wanted you to know that.”

you weren't supposed to say that you weren't supposed to tell the truth you weren't supposed

you smiled at him appreciatively, that accompanied a slight twinkle in your eye. you were quick to return to eating, but coriolanus couldn’t stop staring at your face. he realized then that was his new favorite smile.

there was a moment, a small moment, where he wondered whether it would be such a crime if he did allow himself to enjoy your company more than he had. in that moment, he couldn’t think of how it would go wrong. for that moment, you were a simple, low-maintenance, beautiful woman on the other side of the table with him that just liked spending time with him — and he enjoyed that you weren’t a problem. would it so bad if he entertained the idea?

he immediately cut himself off. of course it was a bad idea.

once dinner has finished, he had requested to walk you back your chambers. if time spent together was what kept you at bay, he could manage that. he most certainly could.

when the pair of you had approached the door, you stopped for a moment and paused reaching for the handle. you spoke, “would you… like to come in?”

“not tonight,” he rasped. he gave you a polite smile. “another time.”

he watched as you blinked your eyes a few times and your lips quivered. you didn’t meet his gaze, for it fell — in what appeared to be embarrassment.

oh.

you invited him in to… to…

that he had not expected.

before you had the chance to leave, he swooped down and grabbed your chin in his thumb and forefinger. he pressed his lips to yours ever so softly, holding it there. the moment your breath caught in your throat, there was a strange feeling inside his chest that made him feel like he’d like to quell your worries by catching you off guard another time. and another. and another. and another. he couldn’t have you feeling rejected, no — not when he didn’t want to reject you. he needed heirs, sure — but they could wait. he would contemplate how long later.

once he pulled back, you smiled. inside you were bursting, and you wanted to hurry behind a closed door so he could not see your reaction. he continued to hold your chin and gaze at your face. feeling brave, you looked him in the eye as you bid him goodnight and went into your room.

you left him standing outside your door, facing its wood paneling.

what was he to do?

he wanted to keep you as emotionally far away as possible to avoid anything like this occurring. he was prepared for people who had an ulterior motive… not a young woman who only wanted to be good to her husband.

the worst part was… not every part of him wanted him to keep you away.

would it be so bad, if he had actually courted you?

you were not anyone from his past, no. you were not irresponsible and impulsive, and you could be trusted to remain within a designated role and space. you were rarely outspoken — you never strayed from your cue cards, nor did you get smart in private. you never spoke out of turn, which coriolanus always knew — this was just the first time he was more turned on than he was just grateful.

he reasoned a reward was in order.

he found his knuckles wrapping on the door before he could stop himself.

the small movements inside your apartments stalled for a moment, pulled taut like a string in an instrument. he could picture you — standing still and silent, waiting for an explanation.

then he heard footsteps approaching the door before the door handle turned. when you opened the door, the first thing he saw was your eyes.

those big, beautiful eyes that looked at him with surprise — and the slightest bit of hope. coriolanus would most likely try to convince himself that he stayed completely still to exercise a form of control over you — but deep down, he would never be able to believe that completely.

however… when you reached out with your soft, delicate hand, and pulled at his own — it didn’t matter why he did it, because he won.

he shut the door behind him, keeping your gaze.

“i would be coy and ask if we could spend time together in a... different way than usual…” you began, sighing. “but up until this moment i was convinced we would never…”

coriolanus was in no mood to quell insecurities and anxieties. he understood that words could not compare to actions, and so he would do just that.

coriolanus stepped forward, and pressed his large hands against the sides of your face. for a split moment — you almost looked terrified. he usually relished in that look from others, but with you it only made him concerned — angry, even.

“i don’t know what it is about you.” his voice was shaky. it was the first moment in your entire marriage that coriolanus had shown even a shred of weakness. “you smile, you obey, you take my transgressions like they’re fucking sweets. why?! tell me!”

your big, round eyes were blown wide as your brow was knitted together. your lips were parted in an innocent manner, and it only fueled his anger. one of your hands came up to gently lay across the back of his. “coriolanus — have you ever considered that i just wanted to get to know you?”

his eyes searched yours like they were an important document and he couldn’t believe what bullshit he was reading. his lips pursed in a manner that suggested a sour taste, and you felt your joy slipping, slipping, and slipping.

“coriolanus — if you want to go, then go.” your voice was breaking. you knew he was a cool, hard man — but this? this? it was almost too much. “you don’t have to stay if you don’t —“

he couldn’t take your nonsense anymore. he shut you up with a kiss.

he smashed your lips together like it was the first thing he should’ve done when he walked back into the room. a squeal died in your throat at the contact, but coriolanus held you there and upright. both of your hands found the firmness of his chest for balance. when he pulled away — he barely did. he kept his lips an inch away from yours as little tuffs of air pushed past. he leaned his forehead against yours, almost bonding the two of you.

“my greatest displeasure will be making you regret this,” he rasped, eyes screwed shut.

your breathing began to hasten as you contemplated your next words. you began to stroke coriolanus’ hands with your thumbs, hoping to coax him. “you say that like it’s inevitable.”

“it is not far from,” he choked through anger and sadness.

you couldn’t help but stare back at him as he almost glared at you — but then you realized that wasn’t the case. he wasn’t glaring at you — he was glaring through you. whatever traumatized him, whatever made him so distrustful of the world around him and the people in it… you realized then that you represented all of that to him. you had to be different. you had to show him that you were different than all of that.

“i’ve trusted you,” you whispered, almost pleading. “i would like for you to try and trust me. please, coriolanus… i’ve never asked you for anything — just this once —“

coriolanus shook his head, dismissing you. “it’s corio.”

he slammed his lips to yours. his kiss was that of a fight; burning with every cut of anger, frustration, desperation, and sadness in his soul. you weren’t sure if he accounted for your inexperience, but you let him lead as you swallowed all of his suffering. you knew you may never be everything you wanted to be for him — but for this moment, or for whatever he would allow — you could be his escape, and he could be yours.

just this once, you both thought. just this once.

his hands were on both sides of your face, caging you in as you were at the mercy of his bittersweet affection. you tried to keep up with him, almost afraid that you wouldn’t be enough for him — but corio didn’t care. he couldn’t have cared less as he backed you into the foot of the bed. he didn’t stop kissing you as the back of your legs hit your soft mattress, and you were forced to sit down.

with his tongue tangling with yours, you managed to lift your hands to the top buttons of his shirt. he batted your hands away and went to work on his own buttons. you reached behind for your zipper to your dress and attempted to undue it.

corio then pushed your hands away with that too — ripping the zipper down its track and pushing the sleeves down your shoulders.

“corio —“ you gasped through the kiss, struggling to keep up with him.

he pulled away for a short moment, staring into your eyes. “i have denied myself being with you for so long — nothing is stopping me now.”

he held the glare, and you could only stare back at him in fright. however, that was when you realized that he had felt the same way, or at least similar — you both wanted each other, and had been scared to approach the other. your heart filled with warmth, threatening to explode, but all you could do was nod.

he seemed to calm down then, glancing down towards your lips where he prodded your bottom lip with the tip of his numb. “i have wondered for so long what it would be like to kiss my perfect wife — and now that i know, i don’t think i’ll ever give it up.”

you smiled at that. “can i tell you what i have been wondering?”

his eyes met yours once more, almost a warning. you didn’t falter, though. he replied, “yes?”

“i’ve wondered what it would be like to please you,” you spoke softly, a pink hue rising to your cheeks.

his flat look broke then, softening. a smirk greeted his features and you could see his confidence in himself rise. “my lovely wife wants to please me?”

“yes,” you spoke, holding your breath. “if you’ll let me.”

bright and striking, flames of mischief came to light in his irises. emotions of excitement and fear rose within you, and you weren’t sure which was stronger. all you could do was watch as your strong, powerful, larger than life husband stood over you, chin raised, looking down his nose at you, as he unbuckled his belt. his pants and briefs, once around his ankles, were discarded — but you didn’t see that. you couldn’t look away from his eyes — holding you, and your gaze, in place.

it was like you were an enemy he was testing. you didn’t know what he expected, let alone what would make him happy — but you hoped his expectations were slightly lower in light of your inexperience. you swallowed the hard rock of nervousness in your throat, stood up, and gestured for him to sit down on the edge of the bed. he raised an eyebrow at you, but complied. you sat down on your knees in between his, and waited patiently for direction.

“can you…” you began. “can you teach me?”

he smirked once more. “take me in your hand.”

you bent your head lower, and grabbed him by the base. he was hard and warm in your hand as you saw him trying to fight the twitching feeling in his limbs. his muscles were tight, afraid to show weakness. you grew uncomfortable — you didn’t want him weak, but you did want him to feel comfortable enough with you to enjoy a fucking blowjob.

holding his muscle upright, you stuck your tongue out and licked around the tip of his cock. he was salty, but smelled so masculine after a long day. his scent infiltrated all of your senses and had captured your attention. it made you hungry, greedy — so much so that you closed your lips around his cock and began to suck.

he jumped then. “teeth,” he spat.

you paled in embarrassment and fright — but didn’t allow your fear to show for long. you adjusted your tongue and lips — so that your top lip was folded under your top set, and your outstretched tongue covered your bottom set. hollowing out your cheeks, you took him into your mouth once more.

a low hum filled his chest.

you couldn’t see him, and could barely hear him — corio was being a selfish lover and not letting you know whether or not he was enjoying himself. he told you once before you were doing something wrong, so you tried to trust that he would tell you.

that was easier said than done, frankly. with your free hand, you reached up and began to massage his sack in the soft skin of your palm. the hum in his chest turned deeper and louder, and you felt his hips twitch once.

maybe it shouldn't have mattered that he wasn't vocal — but it wasn't like he was shy. you would not fault him for not doing something he didn't want to do, but it was like he was denying you that. if you were making him feel good, and he was fighting the volume of his moans — how fucking dare he deny you of that! there you were, constantly at his beck and call, and he couldn't even freely moan with you? you were obedient, quiet, grateful, everything he wanted — but this? this? too much. absolutely too much of an ask.

you had to do something.

"mr. president," you cooed, twisting your soft tongue around the tip of his cock. "you're awfully quiet above me."

he let out a laugh as he struggled to keep his composure. one of hands found the back of your head as his fingers struggled to tangle themselves in between your strands. they were tugging and pulling, but there was no strength in his grip. his grip — wouldn't catch. couldn't catch. corio, you husband — struggled day in and day out to keep the control in the capital and inside his castle. there was a part of you that believed he just needed to let go, let someone else be in control — but you were his pretty little wife after all. you had until death to try everything. losing control could wait, because tonight... tonight was about making corio the grateful one for once.

you let your loose grip run circles up and down the length of his cock. his shaft was wet and thick, begging the attention of the light from above so the skin was able to glisten. the tip of his cock, red and angry, almost neglected — never had you seen something so delicious, nor deserving of affection. your lips, swollen, wrapped themselves around the tip of his cock as you sucked. notes of salt and sweat mixed together on your tongue, and you hummed at the taste.

"taste sweet, mrs. snow?" you heard from above you. your eyes glanced up to find corio's eyes glazed over with pleasure. his eyelids were drooping over, and all you could think about how badly you wanted to make him close his eyes in bliss. your eyes watched his eyes, but his eyes watched the way your mouth sucked him in. "being so good for me. let your husband see what else you can do."

your ears perked in interest. you didn't know what he meant, but you were intrigued to see if he would teach you.

"please... show me what you like," you spoke, extending your neck as he lowered his face to yours.

"so eager to please..." he spoke, staring down at you in awe. his hand slid down for your scalp to cup your cheek. he looked into your eyes like he was studying you — searching for something surface level. a flaw, or something good... you weren't sure. "i suppose some would say i'm lucky."

you didn't like the sound of that... but you didn't let it show. you gave him a hint of a smile. "i don't think it matters what anyone else thinks. i think what matters is you telling me what you like... so you can decide if you're lucky or not."

he chuckled at that, but his laugh was reserved. always holding back, your husband. "you really want to be a good little wife for me... don't you?"

you fell into the strength behind the hand on your face and keened into his touch. his hand was warm against your skin. "please, corio... please let me."

he stood then, and your gaze raised with his body. you gazed up at him as he stared down at you. there his eyes went again — searching yours. he stood closer to you then, bending down slightly. "it would please me if, at any point, you told me to stop because of the pain. i don't want to hurt you." his voice was low and soft then, immediately striking you. "can i trust you to do that? hmm?"

"i'll tell you," you replied, nodding your head. "i promise."

"never break a promise you make to me," he warned.

you nodded your head once more, unsure how to proceed. he led you over to the side of the bed where he gestured for your to lie down. with the passing of time, you became more and more aware of how bare you both were in front of each other. you were ready to let down every fence of insecurity for the man before you... but there were still walls of his that threatened to come down. he was hot and cold every other moment, it seemed... and you weren’t even sure where to begin.

“husband,” you spoke, unsteadily, as he found his place between his legs. “you seem so… distrustful of me. what can i do? please, corio, i just want this moment to be special for us — for you.”

there his eyes went — searching yours again. it was like he was rereading a page in a book over and over, hoping to find the hidden message in the black and white scripture. his eyes, going back and forth, appeared to be looking over unclear smudges and scribbles as his lips began to purse. you almost said something — stopped him from withdrawing into himself, but he moved before you could.

he sat back against the pillows, which faced a mirror across your bed. you rose curiously, hoping that he would finally give you some direction. he simply took your hand in his, and gestured for you to come closer. “come,” he spoke.

in his lap, maybe? you thought curiously. you went to throw your leg over his, before he stopped you. with a furrowed brow, you watched as he adjusted you so your back laid against his chest.

“do as i say,” he whispered against your ear, sending shivers up and down your spine.

your eyes were cast to the side, his outline in your peripheral vision. you nodded, letting your lips fall apart. you felt one of his hands on the soft skin of your thigh, grazing upwards towards your hips. you almost let your eyes fall closed, hoping to lose yourself in the sensations, before corio stopped you.

with that same hand, he reached upwards and grasped your chin between his fingers. your eyes shot open as he moved your head to now face the mirror, and the pair of you in it.

shallow breaths were pushing past your lips as you stared into the mirror. your cheeks were flushed, your hair in a slight disarray, and your lips were swollen. with a flutter of your eyelashes, your gaze flickered towards corio’s reflection. your husband was always perfect — so even the slight persuasion from tidiness was a remarkable sight to you. his eyes were focused — unable to remain cool, calm, and collected as usual.

his eyes, you thought. his eyes will always tell me.

“you will watch,” corio spoke suddenly, voice hard. “you will keep your eyes on my hands. you stray, and i leave. understand?”

you nodded, looking into his eyes through the mirror.

he cocked an eyebrow.

“yes,” you spoke, almost breathless. “i understand.”

corio’s hand then found its way to your center. the tips of his finger tips, soft and hot, lightly drew a line up and down your slit. your eyes wouldn’t leave the mirror — focused on his fingertips. it was like your skin knew every correct button to tap, tap, tap. every part of you was so sensitive, so keen to his touch that you were embarrassed. you felt so pathetic against his chest, bent to his will — but you wouldn’t have had it any other way. the voice in your head was whining and hoping you would give in, just give in, let down your guard, give in, forget manners. you wanted to keep your composure as long as possible, but when corio’s middle finger found your clit…

oh… you were done for.

one of your hands immediately snapped up to find corio’s bicep and clutch onto whatever foundation he could give. you didn’t dare let your eyes meet his, even in the mirror — what if he stopped? what, huh? what then? when you were the closest you had been ever? you couldn’t allow yourself to be greedy, not when he was being oh, so selfless.

the circles he was drawing taunted your ability remain calm. he rolled your tiny clit underneath the weight of the tip of his finger and pressed down with every circle. it pushed, and pulled, and fucking pried at every fiber of your being. you could only force yourself up and back against corio, whining like a pathetic mess.

“running away from me, my sweet?” he whispered in your ear. “when i’m being so kind?”

his words bit at your ear, reminding you of your position in his world. your eyes were threatening to drift closed, hoping, praying, that corio would let you slip this once from your responsibilities. naive, you were, to believe that.

“remember our deal, wife,” he darkly cooed in your ear. “one request was all i had. i refuse to be denied it.”

“i know, i know…” you whined, rolling your hips with his hand. “it just feels so good, corio… i’ve never… no one’s ever…”

“i can tell you never knew how bad your body would crave it,” he spoke, nipping at your earlobe. “even your pussy obeys me, drenching my fingers. too sweet for this world, aren’t you?”

“just wanna be sweet for you, corio,” you whined as your vision began to blur.

the approaching orgasm was anything but a warm and fuzzy feeling around you. it was hot and jagged — making your muscles jerk, yet force your hips to roll into every movement of corio’s. the cloud over your brain felt like a warm haze of the finest whisky or tobacco the capital could offer. you were numb, drunk, and unable to process the world around you unless it was corio. his touch, his taste, his scent, his look, his orders… everything was setting you off and keeping you in place all at once. your body was hot to the touch, feverish as it tried to fight your sophistication and just fucking —

“that’s it, sweetheart. so focused on the mirror you can’t even find the strength to let go for me,” he spat, pressing a kiss to your cheek and breathing in your scent. “ride my hand like the good girl you are. you wanted to show me, remember?”

tears were brimming your eyes and blurring your vision. your teeth were gritted and bared for him. one of his hands came up to loosely grasp your throat as your hips began to spasm. it was so much, too much, so much —

“corio, please —“ you cried. “please let me look away. i can’t — i have to cry, i can’t —“

there was no softness in his movements against your aching clit. corio had now employed two fingers to dip into your core, collect your slick, and rub it along your sensitive bud in harsh circles. it sent your mind through a suffocating tube and gasping for air. you were begging, pleading — unsure what would happen if you were denied the ability to finish in peace. you began to cry in frustration and fear, so sensitive to the touch and his approval.

“corio…” you whimpered. “please, please let me…”

“do it,” he spat, holding your throat and kissing your face. “show your husband how fucking messy you can be for him.”

you grasped onto him and threw yourself back.

it was like a rollercoaster. twists and turns, yanking your body every which way. corio’s body rocked with yours as the sensations climbed and fit into every single one of your limbs. your lungs, burning, were screaming for air as you tried to fight for consciousness. the world was white, milky, foggy — unable to navigate, let alone exist in. all you could feel was corio’s body moving with yours and coaxing you through the most insane moment of your entire life.

tears fell down your face, and you struggled to conceal it. corio refused to let you hide from him. he bent his face low to yours and pressed the side of his face against the side of yours.

his breaths were heavy, similar to yours.

“corio…” you whimpered, almost whining.

“i know, sweetheart,” he cooed. “so good for me, weren’t you? asking so obediently and politely.”

you nodded, pressing your forehead against his. “i’m sorry that i was —“

“what’re you sorry for?” he demanded.

you clenched your jaw. “i was — i am — i’m worried i was too much — i was so — out of control —“

he shut you up with a kiss. coriolanus snow refused to allow you to continue, or else he knew he would be offended if he had let you finished.

“i wanted that,” he stated. “every bit of that. what, you don’t find it agonizing to be prim and fucking proper every day?”

you laughed uneasily, a bit spooked by his outburst of aggression. “i thought you — i thought that was what you wanted from me.”

he shook his head. “out there — it’s necessary. in here, when it’s only the two of us? don’t ever hide yourself from me. you must promise.”

you swallowed as your haze began to disappear. “only if you promise the same."

you saw his jaw pulse from the corner of your eye. “i promise.”

“i promise,” you returned.

you quickly reconnected your lips. you couldn't let the moment slip away. you needed to seize him while he was there — trusting you for the first time in your entire relationship. you found both of your hands on the side of his face and held him to you. corio fought for control, but you gave in immediately. the need for him to need you was stronger and more satisfying that anything else you could've experienced in that moment. you turned around, straddling his lap and pushing him down to the bed.

everything you were doing was improper: grabbing your husband, forcibly kissing him, sitting in his lap, pushing him down... you almost stopped. you almost gave into the insecurity and made friends with with meekness and shyness once more. however, you made a promise — and you intended to keep it.

"i want you inside me, corio," you whispered against his lips. "please, i want to feel you —"

"again, sweetheart?" he ripped himself from your lips to grunt out his teasing. "one taste, and you're addicted?"

you hummed approval against his lips, tangling your tongue with his. with one hand on the back of your head, holding your face to his, corio's other hand fished between the pair of you and grasped his leaking cock in his hand. the tip was red and swollen, aching for some stimulation or attention. he spread his precum over his tip and with a firm hand, corio slid his cock inside of you.

you arched your back away from corio. the feeling of him being fully sheathed inside of you bent your attention in every which was. both of your hands cradled the back of his head into your chest, where he found himself nestled between your breasts. his breaths were hot and heavy, moist against your skin. his swollen lips found one of your perky nipples and sucked it into his mouth, caving to his primal urges. coriolanus snow wanted every part of you for himself, and needed to place that claim on every part of your body. he wanted your thighs to shake and ache from being locked around him, your fingers to tremble from your hard grip, and he wanted your lips to be bruised from how hard he made you bite them. and, most of all, he wanted every loud moan to rip itself from your aching throat and fill the perfectly painted walls of this damned room.

he cursed you when you threw a hand over your mouth, and he immediately ripped it away. "don't you fucking dare," he spat.

you ignored him. he was your husband, and he was the scariest man you would ever meet, and yet you ignored him. most of all, your hips ignored him. they began to roll against his own the best they could for their inexperience. up, down, and grinding down was the best they could manage before corio grabbed you by the flesh of your hips and moved you to his liking. and when your mouth parted and a loud cry made your throat shake when he twisted your hips forward, he knew he found the spot.

"do not ever deny me what i am owed," he spat, fucking into that spot that wrapped a tight band around your abdomen. "i want to hear how good i am making you feel, and i will. i get to hear. those are mine. i am owed those."

again, you ignored him. what did he expect when your eyes began to roll back into your head and you began to match his pace? you were close, you were so, so close...

that was when corio grabbed you by the chin, refusing to let up his pace. his eyes were full of darkness, yet focus. like he had found his prey. you tried to focus, tried to give him the respect the deserved... but you couldn't. your mind was swimming, and your arching cunt was dripping down his length and onto the skin of his pelvis. you were lost. so fucking lost.

"yours, corio!" you whined. "all yours. only yours."

his voice was gruff against your lips as his thrust became rougher. "say it again."

your eyes began to drift closed as you leaned your head into the crook of his neck, rolling your hips against his. his cock had found its way to the most sensitive and purest part of you and ripped down every wall you had. you sobbed, "yours, corio. only yours."

corio threw you off of him and your back hit the bed. he was on top of you in an instant. he threw your legs up and pressed them against your chest. with your ankles on his shoulders, he pushed himself inside of you and began to relentlessly punish your perfect fucking pussy.

"mine, you got that?" he spat against your ear. "i have watched you, day after day, put on this fucking act! perfect and proper — but i made a proper whore out of the most desirable woman in the capital, didn't i? and now she's mine — forever warming my bed."

"forever, corio," you whined. your sobs were music to his ears, going straight to his cock. your cunt was raw from the friction and slick, unsure if corio should stop or keep going — but you didn't let him guess. "inside me, corio, please... want it to bad. been so good for you..."

his hand was around your throat and demanding your attention. "as if i'd waste a drop when every man in the capital would be able to see you round with my child. you want that wife? my seed, my child? you want to be fully claimed by me?"

"yes," you cried, tears falling down your cheeks. "give it to me, husband, please —"

corio reached down in between your hips and rubbed your clit with whatever energy he had left. his thrust were growing sloppy, but his movements against your swollen bud were worse. he was hissing in your ear as he continued the assault against you. your moans were loud as they escaped your lips and filled the room, setting corio's skin on fire. sweat dripped down from his brow and down his neck to mingle with yours as your second orgasm of the evening began to approach. it snapped the rubber band in your lower belly and you immediately sobbed into corio's neck. his hips continued to rut in you, forcing you down onto the bed as he swallowed all of your sobs for himself. your nails dug into his back and down his spine, hoping to rip parts from him that he had taken from you.

when corio came, you were in a stupor. cock drunk with your mouth hanging open, dazed. when corio came, one of his hands grabbed your messy pile of hair, wrenching at the roots. he pulled you to the side to suck on the sensitive skin of your neck as he pumped your cunt full of his cum. your walls were hot and sticky, full of him, but it only caused the most sickeningly warm feeling to spread throughout you. every primal need of yours was satisfied, and corio could see every bit of it on your face. the pride that welled within your husband... shameful. no man should be in possession of such an ego boost like making the prettiest, more desired woman in all of panem break from all bounds of social etiquette. you were warm, and wet, and craving every bit of his touch, so he couldn't deny you... not anymore. not when he felt the same. with each sob that left your mouth, he felt a kick in the pit of his stomach as his balls throbbed. never in his life had a woman ripped from him what he had taken from her, cheeks hot and muscles worn out.

he would regret it in the morning, maybe, but not now. no — not now.

"husband, forgive me, but..." you spoke. "my mind is a mess. i don't think i can read to you this evening."

corio rolled his eyes and laughed. "that good?"

you pressed a kiss to his lips as you hummed in approval. "never wait that long to bed your wife again."

he chuckled darkly. "watch it, sweetheart."

---

love u guys sm sorry it was so long ty for reading love u love u love u

-L xooxoxooxox

[flow33didontsmoke]

hi! i'm not sure if ur taking fic request atm, but if ever u r, can i ask for a fic where f!reader also works for the bau, she is hotch's daughter, and she is dating spencer reid? 🥹 thank uuuuu

hi there ! i’d write it with pleasure, tysm for your request. :) (reminder: english is not my first language so I might be wrong/get lost in naming stuff lmao. it’s also my first fic since quarantine.💀🙏)

“That’s kinda weird”; Three times getting noticed by Hotch + one where he gets confronted.

pairing: Spencer Reid x Hotchner!f!Reader (playlist)

summary: see request

warnings/type: angst, fluff, mention of a sex life, mention children kidnapping, no mention of Y/n, can be read as gn reader, SFW, not proofread (my bad i’m season 2 and being fed with fanfictions), fear of changing and going forward, reader and Hotch are kinda distant

word count: 1.81k

taglist and asks open.

1. Facial communication

10:07am, Behavioral Analysis Unit, bullpen.

You were sat at your desk, not really far from Spencer, looking up at him from time to time. It’s not as if your relationship was that new but it was still blossoming. However you weren’t over those looks you could give the other, the tiny smile on the corner of your lips when you catch the other’s eyes, mostly when you can't help thinking about last night. Skin against skin, warmth against warmth, and that relaxed feeling when waking up in the morning after those activities. To be honest, it may never fade. Your co-workers would find it cute if they noticed or just laugh at it at first if they catch you at the beginning, but they would stop with time.

It’s been over two months you’re dating, and a year of knowing each other, when you joined the BAU. Somehow, even by being the unit chief's daughter you’ve never got the chance to meet him before, as you were always out or the nose in your studies. Surprising right ? But to your father’s dismay, he would have preferred that it wouldn’t happen. That you would have continued to do your own stuff, become a pianist, instead of deciding to follow the same dangerous path as him AND decide to get in a relationship with one of your co-workers. As if you couldn’t get more involved with them, with a dangerous life that could, will definitely change you. But you were young, stubborn and now in love.

As you looked up at Spencer just to get a brief look at something else than down at your papers, somebody scrap his throat making you look to the side where the sound came from. You locked eyes with your father as he was walking to his office, eyebrows slightly furrowed in your direction. You feel your cheeks heat up and look back down at your work, as if nothing happened. This may be nothing but it was enough to feel embarrassed about, facial communication being important between the two Hotchners. You haven't told him but he is not dumb, it was that protective father scold, the "don't even come next to my daughter" type. Spencer seemed to have noticed that small interaction as he became a bit clumsy with his papers, which made you grin.

2. Longing touches

5:18pm, Kansas City, Kansas.

Here it is, the final moment. The UnSub was finally caught, Albert Schumacher an ex-teacher who couldn't bear the thought of being separated from his beloved job. If he couldn't take care of children, why not making his own kindergarten ?

Because of the sweet month of November, it was already dark at that time, and cold, but not enough to be blinded by the night. The unsub in the car, Spencer was once again to your side, his hand on the small of your back as usual. The case was heavy, but it was finally over. You let out a breath as he was just resting his hand here, stroking his thumb a bit as an attempt to provide you a bit of comfort. Honestly, if he could hold you closer, he would. Even in front of everyone, gluing at your side.

An hour and half later, you decided to take a walk to clear your mind. To warm your heart through Kansas' cold, Spencer decided to keep you company. Through the walk he resisted the urge to take your hand in his, wrap an arm around your waist, hold you, hug you, warming you with his body warmth to keep you from shaking and feeling yours as well. He hated when other people touched him but he never got enough of yours. He kept wanting more even more because of the situation with your father who still didn't know about the two of you.

3. Keeping compagny

9:10pm, FBI private jet, Kansas City, Kansas -> Quantico, Virginia.

It was late, the winter night and cold were almost overwhelming, the case was over, a case involving children disappearing. The flight from Kansas City to Quantico may have been a two hours flight, but everyone was tired from all the efforts given in the last few days, few hours of sleep in the agents' system and the possible small jet lag that might hit the next day, the cold hitting their bones.

When you sat in the jet, you sat as a reflex not next to your father but next to Spencer, seeking comfort to him just like most of your nights after work for the last few months. He didn't realize either that he took the seat where your father was about to sit on, as he just sat to your side, closer than if he was sitting next to anyone else. Your father walked, prepared to sit next to you but stopped when he saw Spencer almost glued to your side in a blink. Instead, he sat in the seat in front of him, keeping a visual on the both of you. It's been a while since he has been observing you, your bond. He knew something was happening, not just because he was your father but also because he knew there was something happening, something above co-working, above friendship.

You were doing your best not to show it even when going back together from a case but right now you just didn't really care hiding this. You were both too exhausted to continue on this, maybe it was the irrationality of tiredness talking but anyway. Everyone knew there was something between the two of you, he would have known a way or another. Fuck the way you planned again and again to tell him, you just want to lean into the other and sleep until the end of the flight.

Everyone took a small nap during the flight except Hotch who was keeping himself busy, thinking back about the details of your position, the way you leaned to the other in your sleep. He thought back about the glances you throw to the other, the touches and the more he thought about it, the more he was upset.

Two hours later, you woke up as long as the other as the plane had landed. You give Spencer a small shake to his shoulder to wake him up. At the same time, you saw your father getting up and giving you a quick look that told a lot. He seemed tense at you but you shake that thought off as Spencer woke up, looking at you. Oh, how you couldn't wait to go back to his apartment and just lie in the bed next to other and have rest.

You both get off the plane and see your father outside. Usually, he would wait for you to at least wish you a good night/evening or something of that kind, but this time no. He didn't go right away but when you got off the plane he was just starting to walk away.

"Good night..?" you said to catch his attention.

It visibly worked as he stopped walking. He looked at you with tired eyes but still with distance in his look.

"Good night..." he answered with a small hesitation. He seemed to want to add something so you just let him talk, even if it was a bit tensed. "Do you need a ride home ?" he added as he proposed you usually, but already knowing the answer this time. Not that he never did but this time he was just sure. He never liked the co-driving with Spencer. You had your driver license and you could afford for a car, why relying on your co-worker even if you lived not so far from the other ? He didn't need to make express his discontent to make himself understood this time. He wasn't waiting for an answer.

"No thanks.. Spencer is driving me back home tonight." you answered, it was a bit awkward but you tried to get past that.

+ Confrontation

He nodded and scoffed a bit. "Yeah, of course."

You felt a tinge of guilt at this, something was wrong. You may know why he reacts like this and you don't think to have the mind at this at the moment, and you don't think he has either. "What do you mean ?" you asked, oblivious.

He faced you, looking at you in the eyes. He was silent at first but finally answered. "You know what I mean." There was a hint of venom in his voice. He kept his voice low enough for you and Spencer to hear. Spencer who was just in the back, tired and uncomfortable. This was clearly not how he wanted to get things clear about your relationship and neither do you.

"Then tell me. Tell me what you mean, what's wrong." You replied, looking at him in the eyes. You knew it would hurt but the conversation had to be done, and if he was going that way then his suspicions would be confirmed that way.

"What's wrong is this," he said, referencing to Spencer and you, giving him a look. "Do you have any idea of how unconscious it is ? Dating your co-worker, really ? And without even preventing anyone, you could get more than suspended, did you even think about your lives ?" he added in his boss tone. Yes, he wasn't just your dad but also your chief, but to be honest, you weren't expecting your unit chief talking to you.

All you did was nod once, looking slightly down before raising your eyes to him again and as you were about to answer, throat tight, but he speaks again.

"I'm not finished. What if one of you gets in danger trying to avoid an something to the other ?" He added, his voice was hiding of emotion by his attitude. You catch a glance of Rossi in the back who was about to call for your dad to calm down a bit, to let his role of chief down to let the father speak. He knew that he just wasn't ready for you to grow up as your relationship looked serious and not just a story without tomorrow. He was still getting used to having you around at the BAU, his daughter, what's left of his family alongside Jack.

You said nothing, letting him cool down. The atmosphere wasn't as tensed but more awkward. "And- and he's too for you. Why didn't you choose someone your age ?" he added after a small blank. You knew it was just an excuse, your gap with Spencer wasn't even too big, around five years. You knew it was an excuse not to say "why didn't you choose someone who's not from the FBI ?", questioning your career choices.

A/N: I'm so sorry I didn't know how to end this so here it is. Might do this series though ? I would like that. I want to make a happy ending but I just can't align more words. I don't think anyone would be interested btw but let me know. Perhaps it made me think about the first chapters of that series "Spencer x Prentiss!Reader" if you read it but I can't explain why lmao. It was so weird how I wrote this: I started by 1 then continued with 3 and the bonus then ended with 2 so I'm sorry if it was short lol

[ncteez]

Pretty Boy. (m.l)

Mark’s favorite thing to do is sit alone at the library and enjoy the knowledge that his university offers. In contrast, your favorite thing to do is go to parties and enjoy as much chaos as possible. However, upon realizing your grades have dropped drastically due to this lifestyle, you have no choice but to approach Mark for help. 

or the one where your new favorite thing to do is seduce the most inexperienced man you’ve ever met and watch how desperate he gets for you. 

ao3 | m.list | minors dni! | if you read it, reblog it. 

wordcount― 9.3k

pairing― mark lee x fem reader

content― shy and needy mark, openminded and playful reader, college au, the majority of this is smut, mark has a thing for girls who look exhausted from studying

note― just wanted…no, needed, to write mark being totally hypnotized by someone wanting him between their legs for once.This is not proofread as i’ve given up on using a beta. 

smut tags under cut:

smut tags― mark is...big. he is also a pervert and smells ur towel lmao, mentions of food and detailed popsicle eating,  reader is very vocal and talkative, slight  use of the pet name “baby” and “pretty”, a lot of cum, cream pie, unprotected sex, mention of bc pills, mark has a huge cock and he didn’t even know it, inexperienced mark, experienced reader, finger sucking, nipple sucking, grinding, oral (f receiving) , mark gets on his knees, making out, sex on a table

~

             It wasn’t shocking that you were failing but it was shocking that not a single one of your friends was failing with you. They somehow managed to keep their grades up while partying as often as possible. You don’t know how the hell they did it and you also don’t know why the hell they refuse to help you study now that they’ve seen your failure.

            Not the greatest friends, you think. They won’t help you study because they only have time to study their own classes and to continue partying without you. You knew you had to come to terms eventually that these people aren’t your friends. They’re just people to party with, people to have fun with, and apparently, people that will watch you struggle.

            It’s frustrating to walk home from classes by the run-down houses with booming music already playing. Without fail, every time, you wish you could be attending instead of studying. It’s even more annoying when you give up on your studies because you’re just not fucking getting it, and you probably would be fucking getting it if you were at a party talking to potential boyfriends or fuckbuddies. 

             Fairness in the world is so hard to grasp. Someone else always has it, but never you. The worst part about all of this is that you’re very aware of how lucky you actually are, you wasted away in college and allowed yourself to get this low simply because you were lucky enough to be well-liked. You prioritized the pointless things over the important things, and now you’re suffering for it. Complaining that you can’t attend parties, looking like a bore to your friends who pity you and are embarrassed by you for not being able to multi-task like everyone else.

            That’s right. You can’t party and study like everyone else, so maybe now it’s time to focus on the task you’d pushed aside for so long.

            Studying. 

 ~

             You don’t know Mark past the fact that he is in at least three of your classes, extremely quiet, and constantly in the library when you pass by to leave the campus. You’re a little bit ashamed to admit that the majority of people you are well-liked by are the people who are ignoring you right now. The only choice you have is to find someone that can help you catch up on all of the studies you’d blatantly abandoned. You could go through the student center and “officially” attend tutoring sessions with someone who would likely scoff at you for not getting it, or you could find someone of your own choice to help you. 

            That’s the only reason Mark comes to mind. Again, he is in three of the four of your classes. Every semester, without fail, you’ll look for your name on the dean’s list knowing that it’ll never show up, but you have seen Mark’s name on that list more times than you care to remember. 

            Mark knows of you as well. The girl who cut in front of him in the cafeteria to grab coffee with her large group of friends, making him ten minutes late to being early for his class. The girl who loudly slammed a book down in the library, the girl who came into class stumbling and giggling with one of the guys, clearly still tipsy from the night before. 

            You were everything that Mark isn’t. You were everything he avoids when accepting friends into his life, and his interest in you didn’t really go past the point of having a stubborn, pretty girl, to look at. He is a man after all. A man who is finally away from home, surrounded by hormonal women and men who can’t see past their brain fog of sexual fantasies in class. 

            Mark has those fantasies too, but it isn’t his focus. He is dead set on being a top student, one that people recognize on the academic end rather than the partying end of it all. So, here he is, sitting with his nose in a book, glasses sliding down every few minutes as he munches on a pack of crackers. He’s been here for three hours already and finds comfort in the silence of the library. It’s such a vast place with so many corners to hide in if someone were to come and disturb his peace. Today was like any other Friday, where few students choose to study and instead opt for one of the various frat parties or bar hops. 

            You wish you could be one of those people, truly, but instead, you’re making your way to the Library in search of Mark. The one student who you assume may actually take you up on the offer of study sessions. You imagine his shocked face when you sit in front of him, and you try your best not to imagine a look of disgust rather than approval. Needing Mark now, for the first time in your life, more than ever. His knowledge of the three out of four classes you have will surely work wonders on your GPA, you will probably have to admit how much you’d be relying on him to accept your offer.

      The library is so deafeningly silent when you walk in. You can’t hear even the slightest of a whisper as you walk around and peek into the many empty study rooms and cubicles. After several minutes of searching, the anxiety bubbles up inside of you. What if he decided to do something else? Of all days? The one day where he is needed to be studying? 

     Just as you turn to leave, ignoring the entire second floor of the library, you nearly walk straight into him. And by ‘nearly’ you actually walk directly into him. 

     Books clattering to the floor, Mark sighs as he looks down without making eye contact with you. It’s not the first time he’s been walked into and it probably won’t be the last. He is forever wishing that people could just watch where the fuck they’re going. 

“Hey, I’m sorry–” You go to say as you lean down to help him pick up his books, he still doesn’t look at you and you note the AirPods in his ears. 

            When he does take note of another person helping him retrieve his things, he looks up. You’re not shocked that all he does is nod at you when he takes the book from your hands and makes his way back towards his study space. 

            In an awkward way, you follow him. You feel dumb and kind of lost in this world of books and good student(s). Up the stairs, towards the floor you’d not even bothered to check, Mark unintentionally leads you to his little corner that already has papers and books laid out. 

            You swallow hard when he takes his seat and looks up to see that you had followed him. Mark is quick to swipe one of his AirPods from his ears and you can kind of tell that he instantly went from relaxed to nervous.

“Uh–” You look around, feeling awkward standing there. “I was looking for you.” 

“Me?” Mark questions with a soured look on his face. He doesn’t really do it intentionally, it’s just, like, why are you looking for him? “Why?”

“Okay, just hear me out.” You start, taking a few steps forward and inviting yourself to sit at his table. There is absolutely no arm space on this side, but that doesn’t entirely matter. You begin your pitch.

“I know it’s kind of weird, but, I’m failing.”

“That’s not weird.” Mark mocks, shaking his head and moving to put his airpod back in his ear.

“Wait! Just, please hear me out.” You ask, a little frustrated that he’s already refusing to help you.

            He looks around and then lets out a deep sigh. Rubbing his temples, he nods.

“I know we aren’t the type to like, help each other or whatever– but I’ve asked all of my friends, and they kind of blacklisted me…you were my last resort, I swear.” You say, pleading with your eyes. “Can you please just help me study for like, a day a week?”

            His body is stiff and his face is unimpressed by your pitch. 

“An hour a week?” You adjust, clapping your hands together to plead even harder. You very nearly start to grovel on the ground before him. “Mark, please. I need to get my grades up.” 

“If you had just given yourself a day a week, you wouldn’t have to be asking someone you’ve never even spoken with to help you study.” Mark comments, still mocking and appearing a bit cocky at the sudden power he’s been given. “How many classes are you failing?”

“I’m failing three classes and have a C in another…” You shamefully admit. “Just an hour a day, please.”

            Mark eyes you over, shifting a bit in his seat before letting out another sigh. 

“Finals are barely a month away.”

“I know! I’ve already got extra credit lined up so I can at least get my grades up a letter but– I,” You look down, more shamed than before.

“You don’t know how to do the extra credit.” Mark finishes for you and is, for some reason, shocked when you nod. 

            He can see the panic in your eyes, and he noticed for the past week that you’d been looking incredibly tired around campus. Not the hung-over type of tired either. He noticed you move your seat closer to the front in one of the classes and even noted that you’re actually taking notes during your time spent there. Maybe he should help you out. If not for the fact that you genuinely seem to need it, but also maybe because he’s like, incredibly aware that he is attracted to you. He always has been.

“Okay, you can come study with me whenever you want then. I usually study here because I have a roommate who isn’t the quietest person in the world–” He goes to explain. 

“I have an entire apartment to myself, you can come study at my place. Really, I’ll make food and everything.” You panic, still trying to sell the idea despite him already accepting your offer. 

            Mark is a little shocked and offended that you have your own apartment, and yet you’re failing your classes. No way in hell are you paying for that yourself. This only prompts him to want to help more. Because? An entire apartment to study in? Where a pretty girl makes his food? 

“Okay, that can work. What days and times can I be over?” Mark questions, noting the three shared classes and the one other you’ll probably need help with. He hopes he’s already taken the outlier class, otherwise he won’t be much help in that regard. 

“You can walk home with me after those classes if you want, and we can study until you’re ready to leave?” You offer. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be every day, but–”

“We can meet up after every class and decide if you want to study or not.” Mark finishes for you yet again, and you nod with a smile. 

“What’s your favorite food?” You ask, wanting to make a mental note of keeping your end of the bargain. 

            Mark thinks hard at that because being put on the spot like this makes answering any question a bit difficult. 

“Here,” You hold out your phone. “Put your number in and you can think about it. I’ll text you so you have mine.” You can’t wipe the smile off of your face, the anxiety is practically dissolving from your body at the very idea of someone being willing to help you in the comfort of your own apartment.

            He, on the other hand, is a bit more anxious now. He realizes that now, he’s going to be studying with you. A girl who had never even looked at him twice during the semesters you’ve shared classes. He’s putting his number into your phone, and you’re going to be texting him, and spending time with him instead of going to the parties that he’s never invited to. 

“I’ll see you on Monday?” You ask, sending a quick text to him so that he can save your number. He nods and looks down at his books. “Don’t forget to text me what you want to eat, okay?”

            He nods again as you stand to walk away. He watches you and notes the little bounce in your step when you round the corner. 

            Slamming his head on the desk, he, much like you, cannot stop smiling. All thoughts of studying for the remainder of the night left his head and were replaced with his new study schedule. He thinks he will try and take it easy this weekend, specifically so he is mentally prepared. He’s only talked to you for a total of fourteen minutes and he’s already lost his ability to study and think clearly. 

If he’s lucky, the two of you will pass this semester with flying colors. There’s still that tiny part of him though, that wonders if maybe you’d find interest in him, and maybe he will fail the semester with you because, honestly, you are so distracting.

 ~

             On Monday, you sat up straight in class while eyeing the back of Mark’s head most of the time, out of preparing yourself for when he makes a break for it. He hasn’t even texted you what he wanted to eat today, and part of you wonders if he went back on his promise to you. Not that it was much of a promise in the first place.

            He was a little shocked that you weren’t the first out of the room once everyone wrapped up. It was common for you to leave mid-way through class or be the first one out the door. Instead, today, you stood there awkwardly looking at him as the room continued to empty. 

            Mark nods your way as if to beckon you towards him. 

“You’re still wanting to study today?” He asks with a brow raised in surprise. All weekend he had thought about it. Thought about the possibility of it just being a joke to you, or maybe that you’d change your mind and allow yourself to flunk out like you already had been doing. His heart kind of jumped a bit noticing you looking at him. 

“Yeah? Wasn’t that the plan?” You ask, nudging him a bit once you get up beside him. “You didn’t text me what you wanted to eat so you’re just gonna have to eat whatever I have in the fridge.”

            Mark nods, opting to stay silent at this moment. He’s going home with you. He’s going to be seen on campus walking home with you. He’s not the sort to want attention, but this situation feels dangerously attractive to him. Especially when he takes note of how you’re probably going to look all. . . at home in your apartment. Like he gets to be in your space teaching you things that you should have already known. 

            It all shouldn’t be so exciting. After all, his days are filled with the typical boring sessions of reading, writing, noting, and memorizing. It is exciting for him though. Never has he studied with someone like you, or really even gotten to talk to someone that most of the men speak to, the unreachable men. You’re one of the unreachable women on campus, he thinks. The ones with standards based on fun, attractiveness, and chaos rather than charisma, personality, and knowledge. It’s kind of a once-in-a-lifetime thing for Mark, he thinks. 

“Okay, so...” Mark drones out, avoiding eye contact with you as he packs things into his ratty backpack. “I’m not super hungry right now but–  we are going to your place right?”

            You nod with a smile, grabbing his hand as soon as he throws his backpack on. It isn’t intimate to you, but for him, it’s…something. Holding his hand is reserved for intimate relationships with family or girlfriends. He doesn’t hold hands. He’s never really gotten the chance to hold someone’s hand past his little cousin when they were crossing the street last summer. Not since high school anyway. He can’t help but buckle in on himself in a shy sort of way as you lead him from the room and out of the building. 

            You’re rambling about all of the things you need to study. All of the snacks you could offer to him. All of the hours you wish you hadn’t wasted partying, yet, all he’s thinking about is how warm your hand feels in his. You seem to be a natural at talking to people. Touching them without a single worry in the world, it’s kind of nice, he thinks. The fact that you aren’t ashamed to be seen together with him, heading towards the place you sleep. Sometimes Mark forgets that this is college. No one actually cares who is hanging out with who unless they are in the middle of a raunchy frat party, seeing their love interest getting fucked against a dirty bathroom counter. 

            He smiles to himself as he finally catches up to you and allows you to stop dragging him around. He keeps pace with you now, resting his hand as if to allow you to let go, but you don't. 

“Just around that corner-” You said glancing over at him and noting the shade of color his face has become. “You okay?” 

            Mark nods, staying quiet and trying to force himself out of his thoughts. He glances down at your hand holding his and then back up at you on instinct. 

“Oh, sorry.” You say, releasing his hand and trying hard to understand that maybe you truly are too clingy with most people in your life. You think his reaction was kind of cute though, and now you’re a little determined to help him relax those stiffened shoulders. Mark can’t be as boring as he seems, right?

 ~

 “I have peanut butter and jelly, eggs, noodles, some leftover pizza and–”

“I’m not super hungry, but I could use some water?” Mark cuts you off, slipping off his shoes in an immaculate show of how clumsy he is. You can hear the clatter of your entire coat rack falling to the floor due to his weight leaning on it through that single task. 

“I’ll get you some water…” You trail off, noting how nervous he seems. He’s panicked, frantically trying to balance your coat rack back in place as if you hadn’t walked directly into him just the Friday before. 

“Calm down, it’s just a coat rack.” You laugh, hearing him mutter a sorry as he hangs one of your empty purses back onto it. 

“Thanks.” He says, reaching out for the class of water you began to extend out to him.

            Watching his eyes go from the glass of water to your apartment, you smile at the look on his face. Such a smart boy acting so incredibly stupid the moment he’s alone in an apartment with a girl. Cute.

“We can set up here?” You ask as if you’re offering a change of subject so that he doesn’t have to think about the coat rack he had just knocked over. You point over to your dining table that’s placed perfectly in a little nook against a window and look at him as he stands in place. “We can start whenever you’re ready?”

“Can you show me to the bathroom first?” Mark blurts, hyper-aware of his awkward demeanor. He needs to calm himself down. 

            Without issue, you point to the bathroom and Mark makes his way over to it in a show of not-so-confident body language. He seemed kind of cocky on Friday, but today he seems to be like jelly. 

            You sit at the dining table without thinking much more of the man in your bathroom, instead, you pull out some textbooks and lay them out on the table. 

 ~

             Mark stares at himself in the mirror, he can practically see the blood rushing to his cheeks and ears as he comes to terms with the fact that he probably shouldn’t have agreed to come to your apartment to study. You’re attractive. That alone was a reason in his head to avoid it, but he’s here and he’s already made a fool of himself. 

            He slaps his face a bit with some cold water and tries to will himself to stop acting like such an awkward idiot. Surely you’ll pick up on his inability to talk to women if he doesn’t get it together, right? You’re going to think he’s some weirdo, a pervert maybe, before throwing him out and avoiding him forever.

            Staring harder at himself, he waits for the color to run from his face so that way he can get out there and start the study session, but then his eyes start to wander. 

           Your bathroom is immaculately clean save for some makeup stains on the counter and a few stray hairs that must have been yanked out of your head while you attempted to brush out a night of drinking. It smells fresh and your perfectly hung towels look plush. Without a thought in his head, he leans towards the towel so that he can dry his face and hands, and that’s just what he does. Except, maybe he buries his face into the towel a bit longer than he needed to, and maybe the smell of it was so astronomically sweet that he nuzzled against it even more.

            He could tell the towel had been used at least once though, solely because he could smell a scent that wasn’t the soap on the counter. Then his eyes trail over to the actual hand towel, and then they trail a bit more to see a bra hanging on a hook.

            It dawns on him again. He’s in your apartment, smelling your towels, and staring at your bra. Coming to the bathroom in an attempt to calm down has done nothing more than make things worse, and the only option he has is to stumble out of the bathroom hoping you assume he was in there doing number two rather than planting his face into a towel where you dry off your naked body. 

            Praying to himself, Mark prepares to face you. Sure, you probably see nothing out of the norm if he does well and hides the fact that he’s hyper-sensitive just for being in your space, then again, Mark has never been the best at playing pretend.

 ~

             You offer him a bright smile once he finally makes his way back into your living space and seats himself at the table. He seems to be avoiding eye contact with you, bashfully pulling his own books out of his bag with shaking fingers. 

“Are you okay? Are you sure you’re not hungry?” You look at him, head tilting down in concern. 

            Mark finally looks at you and notes how comfortable you seem while he feels like he’s internally falling apart. There shouldn’t be any fucking issue in his head when it comes to this situation, but here he is, panicking because a pretty girl is in front of him. He feels so dumb, so obvious, so embarrassed… Maybe he should eat something, at least so he can buy some time to focus on something else before he starts stuttering through your studies. At this rate, all you’re going to learn about today is how awful Mark is around women. 

“Maybe I should eat, yeah–” He says in a small voice, still staring at the books as he places them on the table.

“Come look in my kitchen, we can eat something together?” You ask, reaching toward his hand. 

            He pulls back from your touch and tries to play it off casually like he was just reaching for a pen, but you didn’t miss the fact that his hands were cold.

            Taking note, it starts to dawn on you. You’ve dealt with men like him before, and it was always an interesting situation. To check your theory, you rise from the chair and lean over the table, being sure to squish whatever cleavage you have visible to make it more visible to him. 

“Salty or sweet?” You ask, watching his eyes intently and the way they struggle to leave your breasts. Score one for you, Mark is definitely a man above all. Luckily for him, you have lots of experience in that field, while he appears to have very little in the field of women. 

“Sweet…” He drones out, pulling his eyes away from you in an attempt to hide the way his cheeks immediately flushed. 

“Great, Let’s see what I’ve got!” You laugh, propping yourself back from the table and hopping into the kitchen, checking behind you to see if he follows.

            By the time you round the corner, he isn’t short to follow you. Peeping your head around the corner, you watch as he holds his hands in front of his groin, looks down at himself, and then lets out a deep sigh. You then watch as he adjusts himself in his pants, uncomfortably hiding a semi-hard on so that he could come into the kitchen without suspicion. 

            By this point, you’ve already decided that studying will very likely not be part of today’s schedule. He wouldn’t be able to focus on a damn thing like this, right? You should help him, right?

“Took you long enough.” You joke, turning to look at Mark and intentionally trailing your eyes down his body just to see if you can see any sort of bulge. He’s safe though because he apparently must have skills in hiding his arousal during the worst times. 

            Mark, on the other hand, can already tell that your shift in mood is intensely different compared to before he went to the bathroom. Twice now you’ve been blatant towards him and it is not helping him at all right now. Is he reading it wrong because he’s very obviously horny right now? Were you really trying to dangle your breasts in front of him like that? Are you really checking him out right now? 

“Sorry, I dropped something.” He offers as an excuse as to why it took him so long to follow you, uncomfortably trying to shift from your view and avoid eye contact. 

“Sure.” You say with a roll of your eyes, knowing full well that he was hiding his cock. “ You said you wanted something sweet, right?” You change the subject, reaching out and running your fingers down his arm. 

            He swallows hard, stiffening his shoulders and nodding to you. Without hesitation, you let your fingers stay against him for a few seconds longer, keeping eye contact with him before turning and opening a cupboard. 

“Peanut butter crackers, cereal, and oatmeal.” You deadpan, slamming the cupboard and stepping to the fridge. “Pudding.” Then you open the freezer. “Popsicles, and ice cream.”

            Mark just stands there when you close the doors to the fridge and look at him in question. He could opt for the crackers but his throat is already dry. Cereal could work but that would be embarrassing, for some reason. Oatmeal is an option, solely for how disgusting it looks, surely it would tame his boner. But, popsicles. No.

“Grab whatever you want, I'm eating a popsicle.” You say, raising a brow and throwing open the freezer door again to take your pick.

            Of course, it was intentional. It’s fun to see his eyes light up at the very idea of seeing you eat a popsicle, and even more fun to imagine how flustered he’s going to be in mere minutes.

            Mark looks to the floor and heads towards your fridge, also opting for a popsicle, probably so you didn’t think he was such a pervert, but more so because if you truly are trying to come onto him right now, at least his lips will taste sweet.

 ~

             You had expected Mark to get flustered, and boy did he. What you didn’t expect though, was to become flustered yourself by the image of Mark’s tongue darting over sweet ice, and then over his own lips to suck up the melted and sticky juice. The only image in your head right now is the idea of if he would lick his lips like that if you were to spread your legs for him. Would he lick up your mess on his face, chasing the flavor the same way he’s doing right now?

            A dull ache begins to spread throughout your body as you watch him. His eyes still avoid you but you still manage to catch him a few times. Each time he makes eye contact with you, your gaze shoots to his lap just to see if he’s gotten hard enough for his cock to leave its tucked position into his waistband. 

            Mark is hyper-aware now, with the way you’re staring and almost leaving your popsicle unattended as he eats his own. He feels confused, but over the moon nonetheless. 

            By the time the popsicles are finished, your fingers are sticky from allowing it to drip down the stick. You make a point to suck each of your fingers innocently, looking under your lashes at him for split seconds as you begin to shuffle through the papers on the table. 

“So,” You say, popping one finger out of your mouth and inserting another. “Can we start here? I need to have a paper written on at least one topic on this list and have no idea how to find a good source to read from.”

            Mark hears and sees you in tunnel vision right now, but he manages to catch the ass end of your sentence and begins to try and focus on the studies at hand. Still watching you suck your fingers into your mouth, he clears his throat and places his own popsicle stick onto the table. “I wrote mine based on this topic, and I found a lot of good sources for it. I don’t think our professor would think too hard about us choosing the same subject–” 

“Yeah, especially because it’s me. They’d never guess you’re in my apartment right now.” You laugh, smirking over at him. 

“I would’ve never guessed either–” Mark says without thinking, barely processing how embarrassing he is before you squint at him with a wider smile. 

“Oh yeah?” You ask, raising a brow and leaning forward. “Why’s that?” 

            Mark tries to look around but now can’t seem to force his eyes away from you. A much different circumstance compared to before when he couldn’t bring himself to look at you. There’s a connection here, he can feel it. You’re definitely coming onto him and you have been for the past however long he’s been here.

“You’re kind of out of my league, y’know?” He laughs more at himself than he does the situation, and to you, he honestly looks pitiful after saying that. It’s incredibly attractive to you in the way he seems to praise you for being a failure simply because he’s attracted to you. At least, that’s the case if you’re reading him right.

“Who said someone like you couldn’t teach me a thing or two?” You have a smile in your voice, and it comforts him, but that comfort is shot down when you stand to your feet and walk over to him. “Who says I’m out of your league?” You ask again, watching him scoot back with his chair as you come closer.

            You prop yourself against the table, essentially blocking him from his books and papers. You look down at him now, dipping your head in a playful way. “I don’t think I’m out of your league.” 

            Mark notes how you’re between him and the table now. You look comfortable leaning in front of him like this, and when his eyes trail up to your face all his body can do is give in. He looks at you through large eyes, the overhead light is sparkling through them at you. 

            In that instant, you can see his embarrassment fill his body because he’s no longer resisting the urge to be himself. He’s staring at you as if you could be a god and saying nothing in response to your words. 

“If anything, Mark–” You soothe him, grabbing one of his hands and smiling at the way his pen immediately falls out of his grip. “You’re out of my league.” 

            He blinks up at you, soaking in the words and not yet understanding in full what you’re doing until he feels warmth envelope the entirety of his hand and wrist. 

“Do you know how lucky I am that you’re here right now?” You ask him, basking in the way you can see his breath get caught in his throat. “How lucky I am that you’re not only smart but, hot too?”

            He dips his head at this, a bashful show of your words having an impact on him. He hides his face briefly against his arm and then he realizes–

“Is this okay?” You ask, holding his hand in place as you begin to move your hips against his palm.

            Mark watches the way you’ve managed to pull his hand out and plant it between your legs, all so you could grind against it without so much as a warning. He’s not against it though, if anything, his head is shot back to reality and he’s immediately back to glancing around the room and avoiding the scene in front of him.

            His palm is against your dampening panties and all he can think to say right now is, “You could write your thesis on human connection and its effects on the brain.” 

            You smile at his attempt of continuing to study through this moment.

“I could,” You say with a hoarser voice than before, feeling the way his hand stays relaxed in your grasp as you grind against it. “Or we could think about how your brain is being affected right now?”

            Mark groans, feeling the warmth of your wet beginning to seep through the fabric, and honestly, it is happening so fast that he’s sure it would be more embarrassing if he walked out now. 

“How are you feeling?” You reword your question towards him, intentionally swiveling your hips so that you can position his fingers into your underwear. 

“You’re warm.” Mark chokes out, eyes now zoning in on your core in front of him as he sits. 

            You let out a small laugh at this, pulling a bit on his arm to pull him closer, but he doesn’t compute it at all. 

“Do you like it?” You ask again, this time slipping his fingers into you. You let out a deep sigh and let your eyes roll back, fucking yourself gently against his fingers before you open your eyes again to look at him. 

            He’s nodding, probably more thankful now that you’d worn a skirt today rather than pants. He didn’t allow himself to take note of your attire, because if he did, he would have made even more of a fool of himself. But he’s nodding now, watching the way you hold his arm in place and slide his fingers in and out of you. 

            His silence is louder than his words could be right now, you think. You can feel him straighten his fingers inside of you, you can practically see him salivate at the very idea of how you’re using him right now. You’re not done though, no no. He’s far too cute like this, but you want to hear words.

            Gently, you pull your hips back effectively slipping his fingers out of you. There, you lift his arm and examine your wetness against his fingers. You smile again, eyes now adjusting to his face rather than his wet fingers in front of him. 

            Mark watches as you guide his fingers to his lip, and without a second thought, he opens his mouth to taste you against them. He licks circles around each of the two fingers, closing his eyes almost instantly so that he could relish the experience.

“Do you like the taste too?” You ask, releasing his hand and watching how he continues to suck his fingers. 

“Yeah–” Mark groans with his closed mouth around the digits, making damn sure to suck every bit off of him. 

“You’re pretty, you know that?” You compliment him this time, tearing your eyes from him and slipping your panties down your legs. You turn yourself over so that you’re now bent over the table and you ignore the corner of one of the textbooks poking against your ribs, all in favor of what sound Mark will make when he opens his eyes. 

“You can lick it for real then.” You comment, lifting to look behind you at the way his fingers drop from his mouth and his eyes immediately zone in on your bare pussy displayed for him under your hiked-up skirt. 

            He does let out a whimper, one that seemed entirely desperate to do just that for you but he doesn’t move. He just stares, soaking in the words you’re saying, memorizing each fold and dip in your pussy–

            You don’t intend to wait though. Reaching behind you, you grab the back of his head by his hair and guide his face to you. The way you can hear his chair tip over as he falls to his knees makes you quiver a bit before him, and you’re almost surprised to not just feel a face against you. It appears that Mark instantly jumped into action when your fingers laced into his locks. 

           You can feel his tongue exploring and his other hand reaching to lift your skirt entirely over your ass. His tongue is soft, warm, wet, and so entirely eager to lick and suck every inch of your core. It’s not until he starts allowing his moans to vibrate into your flesh that you hike one of your legs up and open your pussy against his working tongue for easy access.

            Guiding him by his hair, you press his face harshly into your pussy with little to no fight for air from him, and you’re loving it. Loving the way he whines for more when his tongue reaches the furthest limit of your folds, loving even more when he finally reaches his hands up to your pussy and spreads it out more for himself. 

            He isn’t even thinking at this moment, just tasting and feeling you guide his tongue as if this is what you wanted all along. The thought alone of someone like you wanting to fuck his tongue like this sets his cock on fire in so many ways. He’s so hard right now that it hurts to think about it at all. Mark doesn’t give a single fuck about how pathetic he must sound to you right now, whimpering and panting against you as if this was the only sweet thing in your apartment he wanted to eat anyway. 

            You hear a clatter to the floor, knowing for a fact that he’s knocked his glasses off of his face from the angle in which he skewed his neck in order to fuck his tongue into you now. You wonder what’s going through his mind, because god damn he’s eating you out like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted. He’s impressively messy and loud with it too, making you feel as if you must taste like the sweetest thing on earth to him. 

            For some reason, thinking back to all of the non-sexual situations you’d passively seen Mark in turns you on even more. The big-brained student who is constantly making straight As and never going out to parties eats pussy like this? Eats your pussy like this? Better than half of the men you’d already been with? Mark doesn’t miss a single centimeter of it, and you can tell he’s focusing on you more than he has ever focused on his homework or studies before. 

            You feel so incredibly wanted in this moment by Mark that all you can do is let out a desperate moan for him. One so that he knows he’s not the only one utterly stunned by the turn of events, but also because you’re fucking loving what he’s doing to you.

            With each moan, Mark picks up his pace, gripping your folds and spreading them out impossibly wide just so he can bury himself in the slippery wet heat. He’s spreading you apart so well that it almost pains you to move without the fear of being torn open by his tongue alone. Your clit has barely even been reached but he still managed to make you feel sensitive to the point of wanting to beat your fists on the table out of sheer frustration for not approaching him sooner. 

            Not only can he help you pass your classes, but he surely could make you feel like a fucking queen on top of it all, licking you up and down as if he were born and trained for you and you alone.

“You’re so–” You groan out, releasing his hair from your grip but pressing your ass out more so that you can feel him slip his tongue back to your clit with impossible reach. He continues that, sliding his tongue from your clit to your entrance, dipping in and swirling the muscle before going back to your clit. All while he’s moaning, groaning, and panting against you. 

            It’s too much, he’s so incredibly eager that you’re honestly too sensitive to let him keep going, so you pull your hips forward and lift from the table. Your legs are shaking when you do this, and shaking even more when you turn to face him and lean against the table again. 

“How–” You look down at him in surprise, watching him lick his lips much like you hoped he would. “How are you so good at this?” 

            Mark is stunned by your question because in all fairness, he’s never gotten to eat a girl out before. He wasn’t really thinking about what to do, or how to do it, he was just obsessed with the taste and smell of you to the point of going absolutely fucking feral at the mere chance. 

“I’ve–never done it before.” He shamefully admits, nonchalantly moving his hands to his pants and unbuttoning them. Not to fuck you or anything, mostly just to release his cock from the chokehold of the denim rubbing against him. 

“You’re lying.” You deadpan, running your hand between your legs and quivering the moment your fingers run over your swollen clit. “There’s no way you haven’t done that before.” You gasp, looking at him as if no other man existed. 

            He shakes his head, looking up at you from the floor with innocent eyes. His lips are wet, his eyes are hooded, his hair sticking up from your fingers guiding him– it’s a lot to see him like this when you’ve only ever seen him as that goody-two-shoes student who doesn’t know how to have fun. Clearly, Mark knows how to have fun.

            Your gaze on him makes him bashful as he looks down to the floor, feeling embarrassed that you’re praising a complete amateur at this. 

            Using your leg, you nudge him, and you spread your legs. “You did all of that and didn’t even touch yourself?” You ask in curiosity, noting how he had only just now undone his pants to relieve pressure. “Let me see it.” You say again, almost demanding as you hop up on the table and spread your legs even more.

            Frantic at your tone of voice, Mark stumbles to his feet and pushes his pants down to his thighs. His cock springs out and stands erect in front of you. You could stare all day, honestly. Mark, of all people? He’s the one with a cock this big? He’s the one with a cock that could make you feel as if you’re being split in half. Fuck.

“God.” You comment, mouth falling open at the way it twitches in mid-air. “All of the girls would be fucking swooning, Mark.” You get a bit flustered yourself now because only now do you understand who you just seduced and what he’s got to offer outside of brains. 

            In all of his shyness, Mark hides his face from you again despite his cock out in all of its glory. Your mouth could honestly start watering if he hadn’t just eaten you out to the point of needing him to stop. 

            Without another thought, you pull your shirt and bra off all in one go. No way in hell is he leaving without fucking you stupid with a cock like that. Absolutely no fucking way would you let this go to waste.

“When’s the last time you’ve done anything with a girl?” You ask, reaching for his arm and pulling his gaze back towards you, now almost completely naked save for your skirt hiked up to your waist. 

            Mark stares at you again, much like he did when you spread your legs in front of him for the first time, this time zoning in on the way your nipples are erect and begging for his mouth to be put to use again. He nearly forgets that you’re talking to him because of the way you’ve presented yourself. The reality is right in front of his face, but he still wonders if this must be a dream.

“I– right out of high school before she broke up with me,” He says in a lazy voice, slightly raspy. It sounds as if it doesn’t even matter to him because he is so focused on you in front of him. “I’ve only had sex one time.”

“Aw,” You pitifully look at him. “What a waste, you’re such a pretty boy.” You coo, wiggling your hips as if to entice his cock to make its way towards you. “You’ve got the brains and the cock for it. You must feel so neglected.”

            All he does is nod, because yes. He does feel fucking neglected, partly because he let it happen and mostly because he knows he doesn’t know how to talk to girls. Right now, Mark could genuinely start crying if you keep talking to him like this. He can’t tell if you’re mocking him or being genuine, but the only thing he wants to do right now is bury his cock so deeply inside of you that all you can do is moan out mantras of how pretty he is, how much time has been wasted without his cock inside of you, how badly you’d want him again and again after this. 

            You can see his facial expressions change every few seconds and your body is yearning to be filled. With the way he is looking at you, there’s no way he doesn’t want to.

“Do you want to fuck me, Baby?” You ask, realizing that you much prefer calling him intimate names rather than his own because he seems to lean directly into it. 

“Yeah,” He sighs out, hanging his head to look at the way his cock still stands painfully erect throughout the conversation. “Can I?” He asks now, making pleading eye contact with you.

            You reach out for him, grabbing his waist and pressing his cock directly against your core. You lean your head back a bit to look at him and the way his eyes sear straight through your own. His pupils are darkened, his cheeks are red, and his lips are glistening– You lick against his lips, and the way he immediately starts to kiss you makes you think he’s a liar. He knows exactly what he’s doing with his mouth regardless of where it is. His tongue presses into your mouth so beautifully that you genuinely could argue that this man has only ever had sex one time. Maybe he’s a natural? 

            Mark knows exactly when to grind his cock between your folds, knows exactly when to pull back to kiss your neck, and knows exactly how to lean you back with his hand protecting the back of your head so that it doesn’t slam against the table. 

            He slips his cock between your folds so beautifully as he trails his kisses to your breasts, suckling gently against one of your nipples before he nearly can’t stand it anymore. 

           With ease, Mark grabs his cock and presses it directly into you. He isn’t slow or gentle with it. You can feel how eager he is when the moment the head of his cock enters you, he’s slamming in just to feel the way your pussy grips around him to adjust.

            He’s lost himself in the moment, and you’re loving it. Loving the way his tongue picks up against your nipples, and the way there is no rhythm or rhyme to his thrusts. His size alone is enough for you, and you can admit to loving every single push and pull his body is offering.

            The room is silent save for his whimpers, your gasps, and the wet sound of skin slapping against skin. You’re quick to wrap a leg around his waist so that when he presses in again, you can force him to stay in place so that he can genuinely feel what it’s like to have a pussy clenching around a cock so big.

“Can you feel it?” You groan out, feeling his teeth pinch against your nipple and sending a sharp pain down your body. 

            He nods frantically, pulling your nipple with his lips as he does it. You can tell he’s drooling, wetting your chest in such an embarrassing way, but he’s so–Mark. He’s Mark. This is Mark.

            You watch his face and the way he winces with each pulse of your pussy quivering around the sheer size of him, and you coo out at him when his cock twitches in response. 

“I can’t believe this is only your second time, Pretty Boy.” You sing out. “You’re so good, so-”

“I can’t–” Mark whimpers out, beginning to move his hips again, this time at a quicker pace. His mouth falls open against your breast and his hands shoot to your waist as he pulls himself up and opens his eyes. He watches the way your wet coats his cock as he slides in and out of you, fingers pressing so hard into your hips that you feel he could be bruising you. 

            You’re so in awe of him losing complete control that you want nothing more than to cum with him inside of you. You quickly reach your hand down to your clit, rubbing harsh circles against the sensitive spot almost to the point that you could start crying out at how painful it truly is at this moment. You’ve never been this sensitive for a man, and yet, you’re coming undone beneath him and nearly losing as much control as he has. 

           A mess of moans and groans are filling the room as Mark chases his high, and you are at the point that you want to say the nicest and dirtiest things to him out of sheer arousal. So you do, you talk, and you talk. Whispers of “Can’t believe you fuck this good”, turn to screams of, “Baby, right there, just like that.”    

         It wasn’t until you moaned out, “Make a mess for me, cum with me.” 

Mark’s hips stuttered and his eyes closed tightly in a frustrated groan. “Stop–” He grunts, hips pressing into you impossibly hard. To the point that you scooted up on the table. “Stop, I’m-” He groans again, attempting to pull out so that he could release against your pulsing and empty pussy, but you don’t let him.

            Your legs hold him in place as you release your clit and pull yourself up on your arms just to grab against his neck and pull him down with you against the table. 

“Make a mess of me.” You say in a half moan, holding his face so that he can’t look away from you.

            You watch the way his pupils dilate, you feel the way his cock twitches inside of you, and then his eyes roll back. 

            Mark’s eyebrows fall much like his mouth does when he comes inside of you. His hips are frantic but his face looks calm, and not a single sound releases from his lips. You’re very quick to begin rubbing your clit again, and the pressure of his abdomen pressing against your hand as you do it sends you over the edge, effectively allowing your orgasm to hit you harder than a fucking freight train. 

            You grab onto him harshly, without a thought in your head besides kissing him. He kisses you back, realizing that despite having sex before, this may be the first time he’s ever made a girl cum. It’s certainly the first time he’s ever felt his cock being tugged by the walls of a pussy as it works itself through an orgasm.

            He can’t stop coming, lasting entirely far too long and far past sensitivity. Mark opens his eyes to look at you when you’re coming around him, all while he’s coming inside of you. Your voice is beautifully raspy, and the way you hold onto him makes him feel like you should never let go. 

            Upon his ears popping and feeling the mess between the two of you, Mark pulls back and notes that the hem of his shirt is absolutely fucking soaked. In an attempt to take a small step back in order to remove himself from you, he nearly trips over his pants that had fallen to his ankles.

“Oh.” You laugh, wincing as you feel his cock leave you empty. “Probably should have undressed you.”

            Mark steps out of his pants and just kind of stands there awkwardly, watching the cum spill from you. Then panic spreads across his face. 

“Um,” He croaks out, voice cracking almost immediately. “I- I didn’t pull out…”

“I didn’t want you to.” You soothe him, noting how he’s right back to his awkward and shy persona the moment he’s finished fucking you. “I’m on birth control.” You confirm for him, just to see the relief replace that panic.

 ~

 “So…” You comment, looking down at the wrinkled papers in front of you. “You really expect me to try and write at least 1200 words tonight?” 

            Mark tilts his head at you, sitting with a blanket covering his entire body as his clothes go through the cycles of a wash. “If we hadn’t gotten off track, you could already be almost done with it.” 

“God, you are such a fucking bore.” You laugh, shivering at the cold air hitting your bare skin. “I’m literally naked and you’re not even making a move.” 

“Finish your paper and we can talk about that.” He shoots back, not afraid to sound the slightest bit cocky at this moment. 

            In his defense, it does work. Promising you any amount of him after what happened was enough to force your focus on your school work. Just because he did it once doesn’t mean he will always want to fuck stupid girls. If anything, Mark deserves someone who respects his work ethic and need to help others right? The huge cock is just a bonus when you think about it.

            You know it’s going to be a hell of a month after tonight, but for the most part, you think that studying with Mark may have been your best college decision to date. You can learn a lot from him, and apparently... he can learn from you too. You just hope he doesn’t run off and use that knowledge on other girls once he realizes he’s definitely got the ability to break hearts. 

~

[hazelfoureyes]

The most important question of all: What type of drunk is everyone in the hotel?

Deeply held personal beliefs here lmao

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹ Alastor

𖦹Alastor loves being the center of attention and he drops his need for an air of mystery when he’s a few fingers deep into the rye. He grabs unwilling participants by the wrists and swing dances with them, despite their clear lack of understanding on how to swing.

𖦹He hums and sings under his breath while sitting in a comfy chair.

𖦹Loqacious! Vaggie would like him to shut the fuck up, Charlie is alarmed because he always reminisces about his real life murders like discussing a loving partner long gone. He is a talkative drunk through and through.

𖦹 Next day: No shame the next morning. Everyone’s annoyed and he might be a little sheepish, but ultimately he doesn’t care.

𖦹Smutty: Never lets you top, but once he’s had a few and has relaxed, will happily lie back and let you take care of yourself with his body while he watches you. Rarely vocal during sex, he’s suddenly talkative and showering you in groans and moans.

Lucifer 𖦹Lucifer doesn’t drink. He really doesn’t. Oh geez, okay well if Charlie is asking so sweetly and everyone else is what’s the harm in-

𖦹Shirt unbuttoned halfway, everything he says sounds like a double entendre even if it isn’t. Cannot stop flirting, even accidentally. The flirty drunk has arrived.

𖦹He stays put, picks a chair or stool and just hunkers down, watching happily over the gathering.

𖦹Pet names for everyone. CharChar, Magpie, Legs, Whiskers, Bambi… Niffty is just Niffty. Even drunk he is a little scared of her.

𖦹Next day: No hangover, excitedly and nervously listening to all the stories of things he did. “Yeah that sounds like me hahaha”

𖦹Smutty: Slow love making, takes his time and moves over you like molasses. Doesn’t care about finishing, just likes the feeling of being close to you and hearing the sounds you make. 50/50 you fall asleep together with him still in you.

Angel Dust

𖦹Angel handles his liquor like he’s handles his men; with an open throat and a smile. It’s genuinely hard to tell if he’s drunk unless he’s so gone his pitch of voice has changed. 𖦹With a little inebriation, he’s leaning into his friends and talking really openly about his feelings and problems in life. 𖦹Drunk? Like— drunk drunk? He’s loud and hanging on everyone for stability. Every grin borders on sleazy, but if the wrong person made a move they’d get four hands to the face pushing them away. Alastor thinks he is the life of the party; Angel is the party.

𖦹Next day: Angel has no memory of what happened the night before and even if he does he will just pull his sunglasses down and pretend he doesn’t.

𖦹Smutty: Angel likes drunk sex, because he can feel his body disconnect from his mind. His eyes would be unfocused, and no matter the lover his gaze would always be at the ceiling. His attention purely on the sensations his body was offering him. He’d be quiet, just enjoying himself.

Husker

𖦹Husk is usually ornery, but when drunk he becomes the wise old man who wont stop talking to you like a kid. Husk, I’m a grown ass adult? Ha, in my day you would still be in diapers. That doesn’t make any sense Husk. Sense? Your lot don’t know shit about sense.

𖦹When he isn’t pretending to be everyone’s drunk Gandalf, compliments flow like booze from a tipped bottle. You’re real pretty when you smile. Wish I saw more of it. — That’s what I like about you, you always get back up.

𖦹Husk is always topping up everyone’s glass, and even when drunk he’s the one who registers when someone’s had enough. On many occasions he has replaced Angel’s drink with just orange juice and soda water when he wasnt looking, too drunk to notice.

𖦹Next day: Yesterday didn’t happen, order a drink or get the fuck out of the bar.

𖦹Smutty: Husk doesn’t like sex when he’s drunk, he doesn’t like the implication anyone may not be fully aware of what’s happening. He’ll cuddle, caress, kiss, but no sex unless you’re relatively sober or you had explicitly made plans to enjoy a drunken romp. In which case, he relishes in changing positions often to find new ways to make you gasp out his name. Tipsy or not, his hands are always steady.

Charlie

𖦹Charlie is the happiest drunk to exist. Her confidence sores with a little liquid courage. She’ll clamor onto the bar and declare she is going to redeem all of Hell, making the Pride ring a glorified bus stop between death and the pearly gates.

𖦹Clumsy. She talks with her hands and spills her drink everywhere. Constantly running into things with her hips and feet. She will trip over nothing, and apologize to the air for the misstep.

𖦹Charlie oscillates between talking nonstop to being dead silent, big doe eyes watching intently as you speak. She’s hanging on every word.

𖦹Tells everyone she loves them, then cries about how much she loves them.

𖦹Next day: Hungover, doesn’t understand why people drink so often, this sucks. Slightly embarrassed about getting up on the bar but otherwise has no issues knowing she doted on everyone.

𖦹Smutty: The Morningstars are similar in that they take their time. They need to hear every little gasp, every held breath. Charlie would spend hours exploring the places she could make bring you pleasure. Little giggles from between your legs as she gives herself mental pats on the back.

Vaggie

𖦹Drunk Vaggie is similar to Sober Vaggie. Serious but caring, and relatively quiet. She wouldn’t become overly showy or loud. Your only indication she’s been drinking is the slight slur to her words and the way her hands tip her drink a little too much when talking.

𖦹Goes on full rants about heaven if the topic comes up. Just bashes the hypocrisy and curses her fellow angels.

𖦹Slips more into Spanish, her words dipping between the two languages.

𖦹Little more handsy, resting her chin on her darling’s shoulder and letting her hands come around their waist while they are talking to people.

𖦹Next day: Needs everyone to shut the fuck up and turn the lights off. She swears she’s never letting Angel mix her drinks again. Mortified to hear she was necking in the lobby.

𖦹Smutty: Drunk Vaggie just wants to kiss and hold you, enjoying the way the room spins a little around you both as you lose track of time. She’s down for more, but only if you’re taking the lead.

Niffty

𖦹Please stop handing her drinks.

𖦹Fuck, she’s drinking other people’s drinks when they aren’t looking.

𖦹She’s dusting the ceiling, she’s vacuuming the sofa, dear God she’s scrubbing Angel’s hands with pure bleach shrieking, “Diiiiirty.”

𖦹Unhinged. More so. Somehow. Makes everyone a crown of trash.

𖦹Next day: is she still drunk? No? This is just her natural state of being?!

𖦹Smutty: Bad boys welcome, everyone else can get shanked.

༻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 , @alitaar , @maddiemouse-1226 , @christineblood , @zombiesnips-blog , @readergirlstuff

@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

[lemon-lime-limbo]

𝖜𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖘 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖐 | 𝖆 𝖇𝖓𝖍𝖆 𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖙

pairing: shōto todoroki x reader

warnings: kissing, reader is gender neutral (no pronouns used), slightly emotionally vunerable todoroki, insecure todoroki, very sweet fluff, innocent romance

genre: fluff oh my god

word count: 2.5k

note: bruh i never expect these to be so long but i start writing and can't stop LMAO anyway todoroki is sooooo yum and also i live for "we have to stay warm" scenarios so... that plus his heat quirk... enjoy!

The winter was supposed to be over; snow turned to slush as the sun did everything it could to melt it all. But night came with freezing temperatures, turning slush into ice underlayers for the new snow to pile on top of. At the start of the winter, it was soft and powdery, but as the season matured, it became thicker, denser, piling into nigh impenetrable snow mounds and filling up every driveway and street until plows came to get rid of it all. They weren’t always successful, so UA elected to cancel classes for the week, deciding it would be better to allow the students a break, both for morale and to prevent any issues from the snow.

Back at the dorms after extra training, you shook ice and snow off your clothes as you left your shoes by the door. Changing clothes was your first task, replacing a sweaty gym uniform with a clean shirt and plaid pajama pants. Even with the cold outside, the dorms stayed warm and the heating system worked overtime to combat the falling temperatures as night came.

Now, you join your classmates in the common area, tuning in to whatever movie they were watching after squishing yourself onto the couch among Mina, Tsu, Jiro, and Hagakure, at Mina’s invitation, trying not to bump Denki, who sits on the arm of the couch right beside you. The others are scattered on the floor beside the couch, engrossed in the action movie on the screen.

A hand bumps your foot as you try to get comfortable. “Oh, sorry.” You look down to see Todoroki sitting below you, back up against the arm of the couch, his arm grazing your leg. He doesn't look at you, so you stay quiet, ignoring how hot your face gets.

You’re the first to admit the movie’s pretty lame, bad CGI paired with a weak plot, but to you, getting to spend time with your classmates is more important than the movie. Everyone else seems to enjoy it, even with Denki’s stage-whispers of, “What just happened?” and, “Who is that guy again?” that somehow make the movie more entertaining. 

Snow falls in thick, wet flakes outside the windows, piling onto the small ledges until everything is covered in white as far as the eye could see. You glance again, but you can’t see anything through the flurries whipping around in turbulent circles just outside the building. The lights in the common area flicker a few times, earning a few groans from the others as the movie flickers along with them. 

The movie wraps itself up, a satisfying enough ending even for an unsatisfying movie. Mina shuts off the TV, leaving the couch to stretch. “Well, guys, I’m beat! I’m outta here,” she says, wandering down the hall to her room. “Night, everyone!” Most of the others follow her, yawning as they say their goodnights and leave to their rooms.

You and Todoroki are the only ones left, you still on the couch, and him standing about a foot away, stretching with a sigh. His plain black shirt rides up as his arms reach above his head, exposing the waistband of his own pajama pants just below his toned stomach. You’re thankful he stays turned away, embarrassed by your own inability to keep your eyes to yourself. His training has done him justice, He checks his phone and puts it back into his pocket. “I’m heading out, too. See you tomorrow,” he says, always polite. 

You yawn in response. “Probably smart. I’ll see you in the morning. Night, Todoroki.”

“Goodnight.” He disappears down the hallway, leaving you to your own devices, alone in the common area. 

Your face is hot, even now that he’s gone. Most of the girls in class 1-A agree Todoroki holds the spot for the most attractive boy in the class, and his polite yet relatively aloof demeanor keeps him there. It isn’t like you aren’t friends, so conversation between you isn’t out of the ordinary or shocking, but it still makes you nervous to talk to him. And it especially makes you nervous to be alone with him.

Heaving a sigh, you take the elevator to your room. It’s not very productive to stay awake just thinking about a classmate, so you decide to do some reading, taking a seat on your bed, grabbing your blanket and draping it over yourself. 

A low hum echoes through your room as the lights flicker before cutting out completely, leaving the room in pitch black darkness, save for the faint moonlight coming through your small window. 

Oh, shit. That’s not good. 

You scramble for your bookmark and set your book down, still wrapped in your blanket as you chew on your bottom lip, trying to decide what to do. You continue to wait for the power to turn back on, eventually pulling out your phone to pass the time. 

But as the minutes tick by, it’s impossible to ignore the chill in the air. The heat turned off, judging by the silence, and left the dorms with no source of warmth to protect against the bleak weather. That’s really not good.

With no signs of the power returning, you groan, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. What should you do? You can practically see the frostbite forming on your skin as the cold makes its way through your thin blanket. It’s too bad Denki already went to bed a while ago, so you doubt he’s still awake to restart the power. 

The dark doesn’t help, and you’re frighteningly alone in your quiet dorm. You turn on your phone flashlight, but you know the weak battery won’t be enough for even another hour. You wish you brought something battery powered to light your room, but you didn’t think that far ahead.

You shut your door tightly behind you as you tiptoe down the hall to the stairs beside the elevator. Hardly anyone ever uses them, but there’s a first time for everything, you suppose. The icy tiles freeze your slippered feet as you walk. Crisp air burns your nostrils as you grip the railing, fingers turning white as the frozen metal draws heat from your skin. The flight of stairs to the fifth floor is much more tedious in the dark, your phone flashlight illuminating every step up.

Reaching your destination, you knock gently on the door, hoping your target isn’t asleep.

No response. You turn to leave, but to your surprise, the door opens, revealing Todoroki. Behind him, soft orange light flickers onto the walls. “Yes?” he says. 

“I, uh- was just wondering if you had a candle you could spare me? Because the power, y’know… Well, I figured if anyone would have one, it would be you!” The chattering of your teeth apparently makes you talk a lot, and you have to clamp a frozen hand over your mouth to get words to stop falling from your lips.

He shakes his head, much to your dismay. “No, I’ve only got one, and I’m using it.”

A shiver runs down your spine in the cold hallway. “Oh, that’s okay! Sorry to bother you!” You move to leave, but a warm hand on your shoulder stops you.

“If you want, you could stay here,” he says. “I don’t have any idea how long we’ll be without heat. Or lights. And, I think we’re the only ones still awake.” He steps back into his room. 

Your eyes widen, but you go in regardless, feet padding on the tatami mats. It’s still chilly in here, much like your dorm. You’re grateful, however, for the light from the candle and also for his hospitality. He motions to the bed in the corner, gesturing for you to sit. “Thanks, I really didn’t want to just hang out by myself all night,” you say, perching gently at the foot of his bed. “It’s scary with no light.”

“No plans on sleeping?”

You breathe a laugh, fiddling with the hem of your plain shirt, though your fingers are sluggish.  “Can’t really sleep when blankets won’t do much for an eternal cold.”

He sits down on the bed too, but cross-legged at the other end from you. If you weren't so tense, you might have laughed at his respectful nature.  Nodding in understanding, he says, “Ah. I guess it is quite cold.” 

It makes sense he didn’t notice. “What about you, Todoroki?” you say. “Burning the midnight oil?” 

It’s hard for either of you to ignore the chills that wrack your body, even as you try to stabilize yourself. His eyes widen momentarily, and he stares at you, head tilted. To deny that his room is becoming colder would be impossible for you. It’s like someone opened a window to let more air in, because there’s no way the rooms should lose heat this quickly. You rub your arms, trying to bring any amount of blood flow back. And not to mention the flutter in your stomach at the fact that you are sitting on Todoroki’s bed, at night, alone, something that your female classmates would squeal at. 

He seems largely unaffected by the temperature and you being here, but that look on his face remains. Why is he looking at you like that? But he still doesn’t respond to your question, leaving you to clear your throat and try to avoid his gaze. “Are you okay? Is it too cold in here?” he says.

Your head snaps up before you shake it vehemently, waving your hands in the air in front of you. “No! No, I’m fine! R-really, don’t worry about me.” Your feeble attempt to reassure him is admirable, but he’s not convinced.

“Come here,” he says.

You laugh awkwardly, your breath forming a cloud of condensation in front of you. “W- um, what?” You stumble over your words, and you pray he thinks it’s just the cold. 

“You’re losing a lot of body heat, and even without light I can see your lips are turning blue. So, come here.” He holds his hands out to you and stretches his legs, staring at you expectantly. 

All the remaining heat in your body goes to your cheeks.

Every thought in your head runs rampant as your stiff body crawls over to Todoroki. His hands meet your shoulders, pulling you between his knees with your legs slung over his right thigh. Your side presses into the left side of his chest and his arms wrap around you.

His heat pervades your body, and you shiver in his grasp. Jesus, he’s so warm. Even in the dead of winter, he’s burning hot like sand on a beach in summer, and you couldn’t be more grateful. 

“Is this better?” he asks, breaking the silence. Probably an obvious question, but you’re sure his polite nature made him ask anyway.

You nod, swallowing hard. “Yes. Thank you.” Your body warms up, heat blossoming beneath your skin where his body meets yours.

But, as you bring yourself to look up at him and your eyes meet, you’re acutely aware of his hands on your waist, and the way the light from the solitary candle dances on his face, illuminating the jagged, reddish-brown scar that expands over the left side of his face. And his smell — warm and intoxicating, it infiltrates your brain until it short-circuits. Becoming bold with your newfound warmth, you reach a hand up to touch him, but something flashes in his eyes and his hand grips your wrist in an instant, pulling your hand away and making you gasp softly.

His eyes widen and he releases you. “I’m- I’m sorry…” he murmurs.

Hesitant fingers reach again, and this time, your hand connects with his face. His breath hitches reflexively and his eyes dart away from yours in shame. You swear you’ve never seen him like this, so unguarded. You run your fingers over the edge of his scar, where smooth skin meets raised. It’s mesmerizing you think, the way the discoloration feathers out, harsh and delicate edges alike making up the left side of his face. Your palm moves to his cheek and his gaze meets yours again. 

The sight is like a punch to the stomach, leaving you breathless as he stares into you, your hand on his face. One brown eye, dark like freshly-brewed black coffee, warm and inviting. The other, blue and glacial, like a cold winter’s night, much like this one. The dichotomy was almost laughable as his blue eye was more akin to night and the other, like day. 

Your other hand meets his face and you bring him closer to you. Inches apart, your eyes flitter around his face. Your fingertips slide into his silken hair, making his grip on your waist tighten, palms sweating over your shirt. 

“You’re beautiful, Shōto,” you say, and that’s all it takes.

His lips meet yours, unexpectedly gentle, and you can’t help but sigh. Your lids flutter closed and you’re ascending, heart beating out of your chest as you’re convinced heaven is real. Tangling your fingers into his hair, he groans into you and his hands leave your waist for the first time in a long time. You try to keep track of them, but they’re all over you, leaving trails of fire in their wake. No inch of your skin goes untouched, he makes sure of that.

Oh, god. This can’t be real. You can’t help but think of what your classmates would say if they knew you were here tonight. But, on the other hand, what they don’t know can’t hurt them, right? 

It’s like he’s a different person, his usual detached persona gone in favor of a gentle, kind boy. He’s careful with you, hands never straying too far downwards as if he’s afraid you’ll brave the frigid halls just to get away. You wish you could tell him you wouldn’t leave, that you won’t, but your desire to keep his lips on yours is all-consuming. He’s addicting, and you can’t seem to get enough. His scent, his taste, everything about him is addling your brain, your only thoughts of this moment, right now.

You move so you’re facing him, kneeling between his legs, no longer in need of the warmth he so graciously gave you. His fingers grab at the hem of your shirt, snaking underneath it to feel your bare stomach, lingering on your hips. You whimper softly into him, and you move to take your shirt off.

Lips leave yours. “Stop,” Todoroki says, and your eyes snap open. 

“What’s wrong?” you say, wiping drool off your lips. Did you do something? Did you misread him? Oh, god…

Hands on your shoulders, he sighs. “I don’t want you to think this was my intention.”

You tilt your head at him. “You mean you didn’t… want to kiss me?”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s not that. I… I just feel like I’m taking advantage of you. You didn’t come here for this. I was only supposed to keep you from freezing to death and now-”

“Stop it,” you say, your arms wrapping around the back of his neck. “I don’t think that about you. I came here for a reason, yeah, but… you are keeping me from freezing. But, if you want to stop, we can.”

“I don’t want to.”

At this moment, you knew you were going to have a lot to explain in the morning. 

[lauraneedstochill]

My first choice (part 2)

summary: Aemond thinks you are way too good to be Aegon’s best friend. But you are enough for the one-eyed prince to fall in love with. pairing: Aemond Targaryen and F!Reader words: ~8500 (this is why I divided it into 2 parts lmao) warnings: friends to lovers, more angst (death of a parent, attempted harassment), hurt/comfort, an embarrassing amount of softness, Aegon is the smartest one for once author’s note: this is heavily inspired by “Little women” (2019) and Amy March in particular (read the rest of my long-ass explanation in part 1). again, I apologize for the angst! it gets worse before it gets better.

 Part 2. In a room full of art I stare at you.

It’s hard to pinpoint the exact moment you fell in love with Aemond. Maybe you were too blind to notice until it was too late or maybe you were doomed from the start. From the moment when the boy, who everyone deemed to be intimidating and reclusive, bent down to you to offer help without any hesitation. The second-born son of the King, tall and close-mouthed, surely had more important things to do than waste time on a strange girl crying over her stupid dress — and yet, he only showed you solicitude, asking for nothing in return.

You thought that mayhaps you owed him, and were seeking the opportunity to return the favor. Or at least that’s how you tried to justify the fact that you were looking for him every chance you got. You often found a reason to chat with Aemond during dinners and feasts, feeling bad for him spending time on his own — and you learned that he was very easy to talk to. You made sure to visit the training yard if he was there and sometimes stayed to watch him train for hours, even — or especially — when everyone else already left. His tenacity and strength had certain allure but under all those layers, you saw a lonely boy whose only friend was probably his dragon.

Despite the circumstances and his preferred solitude, Aemond never rejected your company, however sudden it might have been. Even when Aegon foolishly suggested playing hide and seek one evening, bored out of his mind, and you busted into the library and stumbled upon Aemond, who looked like he had no interest in silly games. And yet, when you awkwardly asked for the best place to hide at, he guided you to the enclosed area of the reading room. It was dimly lit by just a few candles and, somewhere between feeling uncomfortable and getting scared, you reached for his hand. He didn’t pull away. Furthermore, he stayed with you and cheered you up with stories about Old Valyria, making you forget about any childish fears.

As the two of you have grown older, you often heard people being frightened by Aemond’s disposition but you found there to be no ground for that. He’s never been rude to you nor had he lost his temper, regardless of circumstances — and the day you saw him without the eyepatch for the first time was the prime example of that. It was getting late and Aegon had too much to drink and, while running around in a drunken stupor, he cut his hand somewhere in the yard. Luckily, the wound wasn’t too deep but he was bleeding and refused to get help, against your best wishes. He was babbling that scars adorn a man — and then, in an attempt to escape you chasing him, he barged into Aemond’s chambers. You ran in merely a second after, with explanations at the ready, and were met with his younger brother standing there, looking startled. It took you a second to realize he wasn’t wearing his eyepatch.

“My scar will be easier to hide,” Aegon giggled, not recognizing the gravity of the situation.

It was the only time you had to make an effort not to slap him in the face. You thought it was mostly a secondhand embarrassment, which was part of the experience of being Aegon’s friend, but the look on Aemond’s face, hurt and humiliated, also made your heart ache.

“His scar is a reminder of his bravery and the strength of his character that he should only be proud of,” you gave Aegon a death stare. “Yours will be a reminder of your idiocy.”

It seemed to work as his smile vanished and he even muttered an apology, leaving hurriedly to call for the maester. When you turned to Aemond, he already had his eyepatch on, and you fought the urge to come and take him by the hand again. You didn’t want to bother him at such a late hour, so you opted to offer an apology, too, and leave him be.

“His behavior was unworthy. But I meant what I said,” you turned to Aemond on your way out. “And the sapphire looks very pretty,” you could swear you saw a trace of a smile on his face but you chose not to think much of it.

With every encounter, sudden or not, and every conversation, most of which were too short for your liking, you were making more room for Aemond in your heart. You should’ve known you were a lost cause when you actually told yourself — out loud, with hands grabbing the edges of your table — “I will not fall in love with him.” At that point, you already did. He always worked so hard to be seen — and you only had eyes for him all along.

You hid your true feelings well enough for anyone to take notice — but your father was no fool. He also knew better than to meddle with whatever your thinking process was. So he watched from afar for quite some time, until you started catching his curious glances on you every time you went to talk to Aemond. Predictably, after yet another feast he could not resist bringing up the topic.

“Did the royal menace have too many cups of wine again? Haven’t seen him this evening,” he adored Aegon whole-heartedly, and you suspected that their shared love for crude humor was the main reason for that. You didn’t mind.

“Wasn’t that many, actually,” you chuckled. “But he asked me and Aemond to help him to his chambers, said he wasn’t in the mood today.”

“Well, you seem to really enjoy Aemond’s company. I assume that the feeling is mutual?” he looked expressively at you.

Your face grew hot at his words. You also felt your heart break just a little.

“We are merely friends,” you told him, your smile too tense to be believable.

There was a shadow of concern in your father’s gaze, followed by a sad sigh.

“You will let me know if anything changes, though?” he mustered a smile in return and his was much brighter than yours.

“You will be the first one to know,” you promised as he came closer to bring you into a bear hug. You never spoke of it again.

Surprisingly, the only other person who seemed to have suspicions about the nature of your and Aemond’s relationship was his father, the King. You didn’t think he was aware of your existence, and even when your friendship with Aegon grew stronger and you became a regular guest at the castle, you soon realized Viserys barely paid any mind to his younger kids’ whereabouts. You would catch a glimpse of him in the halls and curtsy out of politeness but didn’t expect him to notice. You got too comfortable with his absence — so much so, that one day, when Aegon was carrying your supplies and humorously complained about the lack of art in the castle, you blithely suggested painting a portrait of the King. The last thing you expected was for said man to step out of the corner.

“I would be delighted,” he cut right to the chase. “Lady Y/N, isn’t it?”

He didn’t look scary up close, his face wrinkled and a tad too tired, but quite benevolent. He simply asked if you would be content with drawing him on the Iron Throne and you agreed, just as easily. Truth be told, you didn’t think he would follow up on his offer — being the King and all that, but he sent a carriage down to fetch you literally the next day. Viserys took the task with juvenile ardor, bombarding you with questions — what pose to take, what paint do you use, how quickly will it dry and how did you learn to draw. After he was satisfied with the answers, he changed the subject.

“My wife considers you to have a positive influence on my eldest son,” he pointed out with ill-concealed interest.

“I deeply appreciate her trust but I believe that he is capable of changing on his own,” you corrected him courtly.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” he disagreed with a mischievous grin. “I’ve only heard good words about your guidance. It seems that you rein him back so easily, you would’ve made for a fine wife.”

You silently groaned at his comment.

“Your grace, I can assure you, our relationship is strictly of a friendly nature.”

“Oh, I know, I have seen you two,” he said, laughing, and when you peered at him, you saw that it wasn’t his usual uncomfortable-looking crooked grin but an actual genuine laugh.

“Shall you ever lay an eye on any other of my sons,” Viserys continued, much to your surprise. “Do not hesitate to tell me,” and his face suggested he knew more than he was letting on.

You ducked behind the canvas so he didn’t see your heated cheeks.

His suggestion lodged in your memory and even though you wouldn’t dare to actually approach the King, you held out hope that maybe he would give Aemond a similar hint. But months passed, Viserys’s condition drastically worsened, and for whatever reason, he never mended the relationship with his children. And eventually, your hope was gone.

You didn’t lie to Aemond when you told him about having power over who you love. But you failed to mention that said power has its limits — and doesn’t guarantee that your feelings won’t be one-sided. You learned that lesson the hard way when you had to face up to the reality you were in. Your love for Aemond seemed to be as infinite as the ocean — and you had to fit it in a fragile vessel of your heart. At first, you felt the waves raging at the mere glance of his, at every gesture of his goodwill or just upon hearing his voice. The storm of your feelings would splash over the rocks of your self-control but you survived the roaring torrent of love, time after time. The rough ocean grew calm over the years as you came to terms with being in love with someone who didn’t love you back.

You did choose to harbor feelings for Aemond, and you had no regrets about that. But when adulthood came with its own responsibilities that you had to focus on, all your energy was put into finding a husband. You were aware that your choice would have a major impact on your family as their stability depended on it. You approached the issue in a cold-hearted manner, prioritizing the duty above all else. Mayhaps, you were too calculated in your pursuit, and that was how you ended up accepting the courtship of a man who had nothing to give but his wealth.

When it comes to Jason, he never ceases to evoke a few feelings, too, but none of them are pleasant. His arrogance is the first thing that catches the eye — he’s wrapped in it and wears it with pride as if it’s another title of his. You often have to bite your tongue and fake a smile in response to his dismissive remarks and borderline vulgar comments. It doesn’t help that his self-esteem is inflated beyond your comprehension, and if only he could put his own face on their House’s sigil, he would. You are grateful that he keeps his hands to himself but you notice him getting quite handsy with the maids, and it gives you an unsettling feeling. His behavior is so disdainful and frivolous, you have no doubts that once you are married, you will be merely an accessory to him, a pretty wife to show off to his friends without taking your opinion into account. Showing off is the one thing he does best — and each time you can’t help but compare him to Aemond who doesn’t even know how to take a compliment. You find yourself thinking about the prince every time Jason comes by, and these thoughts help you get through tiresome promenades with the lord and endure boring dinners with him.

But after your last conversation with Aemond, you force yourself to stop thinking about him altogether. That decision is remorseless but you believe it’s for the better — or at least that’s what you convince yourself to think after you run out of the garden and into your carriage, only caring about getting home as soon as possible. You pretend that nothing happened, lying to your parents that the prince was too busy and you had to return earlier than planned. And then you lock yourself in your chambers, with hand clamped over your mouth to muffle the sound of crying. A small part of you hopes that Aemond will come to you the same day and explain himself. But he doesn’t. When you don’t hear from him for another two days, you come to the conclusion that he regretted his sudden outburst. And that his words actually held no meaning.

Cutting Aemond out of your life does seem to be attainable with some time, and you perceive it as just another task, another skill you can master. But getting him out of your head seems like an impossible goal from the start. You are so used to keeping memories of him, cherishing each and every one, you can’t just erase them all at once. You try your best, you do so with ferocious persistence, but there’s always some annoying little reminder ready to surface and catch you off guard at the most inopportune moment.

It gets even harder when four days later you find yourself sitting next to Jason who is even more presumptuous than usual. At this point, you feel like your nerves are at the limit, so you can’t even find it in yourself to keep up the act. You push your food around the plate, jumping from one pointless thought to another: the tasteless meal, the barely visible crack in your cup, the revolting tone of the lord’s voice. You feel your mother staring at you, clearly displeased with your attitude, yet Jason is oblivious, too wrapped up in bragging about his winery — or whatever else he is talking about, you have no idea because you stopped paying attention about twenty minutes ago.

You think if you stay by his side any longer, you will be physically sick.

So you get up from the table — may be a bit too dramatic for your own liking — and muster out a weak excuse:

“My apologies, I am in need of fresh air.”

You leave before anyone has a chance to stop you.

It seems like an act of disobedience but there’s so much freedom in it, you feel that you can finally take a breath. And you do exactly that once you reach the balcony, several corridors away from the dining hall that felt stuffed with Jason’s ego. As you stand there, soaking up the last rays of the sun, you can’t ignore the obvious question — how is it even possible to marry someone you absolutely cannot tolerate. You never had illusions about the nature of your relationship with him but you at least hoped there would be some ground to build your future on. At yet, right now it looks like you are trying to lay a foundation in the quicksand. For a man of a noble lineage, Jason knows too little of what nobility actually is, and you have enough self-respect to not give him explanations. The prospect of marrying him makes your duty feel like a burden, and you contemplate if you should even take the risk.

You are lost in your thoughts until you hear a thin voice:

“Do you know where the sun lands?”

You turn to find your sister Alyna standing at the door, in her long white nightgown and barefoot, her eyes unnaturally large for her baby-like face. She always talks like that, too thoughtful for her young age, and sometimes she reminds you of Helaena. There you go, another connection to Aemond.

“I do not, my sweetling. Wherever that place is, it’s a well-guarded secret,” you comb her curly hair with your fingers as her curious eyes study your face.

“Maybe it doesn't want to be seen,” she deduces. “Just like you don't.”

Her ability to get straight to the point sometimes blindsides you. It’s also quite liberating to talk to someone who hasn’t yet learned the skill of pretense, and she may be the only sibling of yours with no ulterior motives or hidden agenda. Alyna tilts her head, signaling that she isn’t enjoying your touch anymore — and when you remove your hand, she says, out of the blue:

“Just like Ser Lannister doesn’t.”

You stare at her in bewilderment, and only then notice that the hallway behind her is empty. It dawns on you that Alyna’s nanny Dorea is nowhere to be found. She is only a couple of years older than you, meek and quiet, her trusting nature ever so defenseless — but she is also very pretty. Too pretty for her own good, as your mother likes to say.

You feel a wave of nausea again. This time, it’s followed by a sense of dread curdling in your stomach.

“What did he do?” your voice comes out unusually calm, in striking contrast with how you are really feeling.

“I heard him talking to Dorea outside my chambers. I wanted to join the conversation but he asked me to leave,” her brows slightly furrow. “He said there are some things I am not supposed to see.”

It may be the first thing you and Jason can agree on, you think. It is also the only thing because you certainly will never agree to marry him — and that realization frees you of any false politeness and self-restraint.

“What are those things?” Alyna naively asks, shifting from one foot to the other.

“I shall go and ask him,” you pat her on the cheek. “But you stay here, alright? I will be back before you know it.”

Usually, it would take about a minute to reach your sister’s chambers, but you cover the distance twice as fast. You are a couple of feet away when you hear muffled voices — one is demanding, the other one is scared, and both are well-known to you. You grasp the situation in no time and run to quickly open the door. When you walk in, you feel a flare-up of anger at the sight: Jason grabbed Dorea by the hips, trying to pull her closer, as she weakly protests, her palms pushing at his chest in an attempt to get away. The squeak of the door makes them turn their heads to you, and you see the distressed look on the nanny’s face.

And then their gazes fall behind your back, and Dorea gets horrified.

You easily guess the reason for that — your younger sister isn’t very good at following orders. So Alyna mumbles, standing next to you and looking at her nanny:

“I do not think she likes it.”

“Neither do I,” you throw Jason a baleful stare. “Let her go and get out.”

He removes his hands — so carelessly, it almost seems like he’s offended by your suggestion of his wrongdoing. Dorea immediately comes to your side, ashamed and distraught.

“Did he hurt you?” you inquire, helping to adjust her dress.

“My lady, I think you misinterpreted —” Jason tries to say but you shut him off.

“I am not talking to you,” you scowl in his direction. Your face softens when you ask Dorea again: “Are you hurt?”

She shakes her head, sheepishly trying to explain:

“I didn’t do anything, I-I didn’t want to, and he said... He said he is a lord and I sh-should be flattered.”

Not only did Jason has the audacity to pull that off but he also wanted to do so at your little sister’s chambers — and you simmer at the thought.

“I believe you,” you gently stroke her shoulder. “I promise you will never see him again.”

“These are some unrealistic expectations,” Jason sneers, walking to you but his grin dies down when you look at him again.

“I know your opinion of women isn’t very high — trust me, the feeling is mutual — but you cannot seriously believe you will fool me,” you sense that now he isn’t pleased with your attitude but you don’t care. “When I told you to get out, I meant it. You are not welcome in this house.”

“That doesn’t sound like a wise decision to make if we are to be wed,” Jason contemptuously hisses.

“Then I guess the wedding is off,” you glare defiance at him. “But whoever you end up marrying, I hope she outlives you. Just so she can spit on your grave,” the last part is meant only for him to hear.

And he definitely does as his face reddens with rage. Jason roughly grabs you by the hand, and your nose fills with the stench of wine when he speaks:

“You are in no position to make demands,” he drawls. “Your family is in debt up to its ears, you little halfwit, so I suggest you choose your words very carefully.”

While he doesn’t see it, Alyna looks between you two, and, out of the corner of your eye, you notice her frowning. She doesn’t do well with conflicts as they upset her deeply, which can only trigger one reaction. Before you can say anything, a high-pitched scream shatters the room, echoing through the whole house.

Jason removes his hand within a second, looking shocked, but Alyna stands innocently with her mouth closed as if nothing happened. Your parents come to her chambers in the blink of an eye.

“What is wrong?” your mother looks at you all uncomprehendingly.

“Ser Lannister got lost,” you cooly explain. “He is already leaving.”

“And why is that?” your father glares at him with suspicion.

You want to spare Dorea the humiliation so you pause for a moment, trying to come up with an excuse. But Alyna has no understanding of what a maiden’s honor is — and she loudly proclaims:

“Ser Lannister was touching Dorea, and she didn’t like it.”

No one in the room needs an explanation for that.

“You shameless scoundrel!” your father roars at Jason, who unsurprisingly isn’t as courageous as before.

“Ser, there clearly has been a mistake — ”

“It was a mistake to let you in,” your father rudely interrupts him. “You won’t set foot in my house ever again. Get out of here before I make you!”

Jason doesn’t need to be told twice and storms out of the room as your father’s gaze follows him. He stands with hands clenched into fists, his nostrils flaring with anger.

“Pompous jerk,” he mumbles under his breath. “And to think that I was willing to give him my daughter’s hand...!” his voice breaks, hoarse with ire, and you notice a vein pop on his forehead. You have never seen him so furious.

“He’s been dealt with,” you cautiously say to ease the tension. “That shouldn’t be a cause for your concern anymore.”

He turns to you, his eyes bloodshot and breathing heavy. As you step closer, you hear whistling sounds with his every breath, and his gaze gets absent. You realize that something is wrong as he opens his mouth to speak but no sound comes out.

“Father, are you alright?”

He places a hand over his heart, trying to inhale, a look of fear in his eyes. The chain of events is too sudden to comprehend: his breathing begins to wheeze as he squirms, falls flat on his back and convulses.

And then your evening turns out to be way worse than you could’ve ever imagined. A week later Aegon wakes up at an ungodly hour — and he’s fueled by sole determination to put an end to everyone’s misery. Surely, he must be the only sane person in his house since all his family members seem to be oblivious to what is going on between you and Aemond. Aegon, however, can use his eyes for their intended purpose — and it is clear as day to him that you and his brother are in love with each other.

He caught on to that pretty fast, although the signs were not that obvious at first: you often smile to people purely out of politeness and Aemond may not show his true feelings even under threat of death. So Aegon kept secretly observing you two, taking note of fleeting glances and light touches, of the way you would relax in Aemond’s presence, the way he was always too eager to help you with whatever you needed, and how you two would gravitate toward each other. Both his brother and his best friend were annoyingly stubborn about making their own decisions so Aegon didn’t mean to interrupt — or at least he tried not to. But when your evident mutual pining stretched into years, Aegon started losing his patience.

In the beginning, he initiated small things, asking Aemond to come and greet you (“Oh, I just woke up! And you are already dressed for the occasion”), to deliver you his hand-written message (“Yes, it is incredibly important and I trust no one but you!” — it was his doodling of Aemond), to keep you company during the feast while Aegon stepped out for a moment (he didn’t come back). He asked him to switch places at dinner (so you and Aemond could sit together), to help find the books you wanted (“All those years of you reading should be good for something”), to pick up the portrait of his children (“They are your nephews, is it so hard?! No, I am not being dramatic!”). A couple of times he even pretended to be way more drunk than he actually was just so you and Aemond could help him to his chambers and spend some time alone in the process. None of that worked. At some point, he seriously contemplated locking you both in a room but then came to the conclusion that you would rather team up to find a way out than confess your feelings. Truly, it seemed hopeless, and Aegon thought that maybe he should give up.

But as of recently he couldn’t help but notice that something was clearly off between you and Aemond, although the younger prince refused to talk about it, and you simply stopped visiting the castle. He decided to give it a day or two, hoping that you would sort things out and refusing to even consider the opposite. A week passed and nothing changed, and Aegon cannot bear looking at Aemond’s sour face any longer. So the older prince comes up with a plan.

He is unexpectedly the first one at the breakfast table and everyone who walks in shoots him a surprised glance. They are amazed even more to see that Aegon isn’t drinking which is as rare as a miracle. Aemond comes last and he is the only one who doesn’t notice the change, too wrapped up in his thoughts. Another thing that goes unnoticed is the gleam of sadness on their mother’s face.

Five minutes in, Aegon clears his throat to attract everyone’s attention.

“So, I was thinking,” he drawls loudly.

“That does not sound good,” Otto mutters, unimpressed, which Aegon chooses to ignore and continues.

“Lady Baratheon’s poor taste in men shouldn’t be an obstacle in our way of reaching the grand goal.”

“Which is...?” Otto asks while the younger prince doesn’t move an ear.

“To find a lady worthy of my brother, of course!” Aegon tries his best to say it with a straight face.

Aemond spares him a glance. “I didn’t know you took much interest in that.”

“I always have your best interest in mind,” Aegon slaps him on the shoulder earning a disgruntled hum in return.

“I was just thinking if we should go over the list of requirements once more,” Aegon suggests.

“I don’t have a li—”

“Of course you do!” another slap. “At the very least, she should be of a noble kind. Am I right?”

“Sure,” Aemond absentmindedly agrees.

“And we are definitely looking for someone who is keen on reading.”

“Yes,” Aemond rolls his eye and looks at his plate, already showing no interest in the conversation. That is exactly what Aegon wants — and he starts talking a bit faster:

“Someone with a flexible nature...”

“U-hmm.”

“And with a kind heart...”

“Yes.”

“A great listener...”

“Uh-huh”

“Who will attend to your every need...”

“Sure.”

“And may even be of indescribable beauty...”

“Hmm.”

“...And you will still be miserable because you love Y/N.”

“Yes,” Aemond says without thinking — and then it’s too late to take his word back because everyone’s eyes are already on him. When he turns to his brother, Aegon has a shit-eating grin on his face:

“You are welcome.”

Alicent looks genuinely confused. “Aemond, but why haven’t you mentioned it?”

“I’ve been asking myself the same question for years,” Aegon snorts, and Otto raises an eyebrow.

“Years?” his grandsire questions.

“I almost gave up on him,” Aegon keeps talking while his brother just sits there, eye glued to the table.

“She was the one who drew the portrait of our father,” Helaena cheerfully speaks up. “And he kept it.”

“He did,” Alicent nods and gives her son a sympathetic look. “Aemond, she is an admirable young lady. No one would have spoken against it if only you —”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Aemond cuts her off, averting his gaze. “She is to be betrothed to Ser Lannister, and I do not intend to ruin her plans.”

“You cannot be serious!” Aegon pinches the bridge of his nose. “Shall you find the courage to propose, she will immediately reject him!”

“She already did,” Alicent avows, to everyone’s surprise.

Aemond looks up at his mother in an instant.

“Did she?” he asks in disbelief.

Alicent gives him a wan smile.

“A week ago, yes. It is rumored that his behavior... left much to be desired,” she explains half-heartedly. Her face, however, doesn’t show any signs of happiness.

“That seemed like a reason to celebrate but it doesn’t sound like it,” Aegon looks at her questioningly, and Aemond tenses up in anticipation.

Alicent dithers as her face falls, eyes getting woeful and voice feeble.

“Her father fell ill that very day. Some say he got too upset with the whole situation, and I...,” she takes a deep breath. “I received a message this morning. He passed away three nights ago.”

Everyone falls silent, their faces showing shock that is quickly replaced by sadness.

“Seven hells,” Aegon mumbles.

Aemond doesn’t utter a word, feeling his heart sinking. He knows that you’ve always been your father’s daughter, and the prince cannot even begin to imagine how heartbroken you are right now. He should’ve been there for you, he thinks, full with remorse and guilt.

“You should go,” Aegon turns to him, not a hint of jesting in his voice. “We may give her some time to grieve, but I will gladly take Sunfyre out for —”

“Why would you need to?” Aemond gives him a puzzled look. “I can take Vhagar.”

Aegon emits a long-drawn groan and says to no one in particular:

“And to think he is the smartest one? I am having doubts”, he then glances at Aemond with reproach. “I am sure her mourning family will not at all get terrified at the sight of your monstrous dragon.”

His brother mulls over the idea.

“It is not safe to fly drunk.”

“I will be stone-cold sober.”

“You believe both of us will fit into the saddle?” 

“We will fit just fine, can you stop with your excuses?! I am being reasonable for once, and you are making me regret it!”

“I don’t think it would be wise,” Otto cuts in their bickering, and both princes turn to him.

He holds pause with a blank stare before a sly smile crawls out on his face.

“I would rather recommend the prince goes right away. We don’t want her family to make any rushed decisions,” their grandsire advises, earning a sign of relief from Aegon, who jumps out of his chair.

“We’re leaving this very second! Do I need to drag you out of your —”

“You do not,” Aemond stands up in a hurry — and then Aegon still grabs him by the hand, pulling his brother out of the room.

Alicent gazes fondly after them.

“It was very kind of you,” she says to her father without looking at him.

Otto thinks that, with how well you’ve been handling Aegon, marrying you to Aemond would be a blessing. Because gods know, he is fed up with them both.

On their way to the Dragonpit Aegon can barely hold back his excitement but his brother’s mind is clearly elsewhere. The older prince lets Aemond take time to gather his thoughts and doesn’t bother him along the road. But once they reach the cavernous building and both pop out of the carriage, Aegon decides some encouragement would be fitting. 

“Have I ever told you how I met her? That day at the feast?”

Mentioning your name always works wonders — Aemond turns to him in a flash.

“I was jesting around and she was the only one who didn’t laugh at my jokes. At all. Just stood there with a straight face and ignored me. Can you imagine?” 

Aemond does know the unimpressed look you usually give Aegon, and it causes him to let out a dull chuckle.

“Took me good five minutes to even make her smile — and, frankly, my success didn’t last very long. Pretty sure half of my jokes landed flat. But you know what was the real issue?” Aegon’s smile is melancholic. “Most of the evening she kept asking about you.”

Aemond looks like the very epitome of heartbreak. Not only was he blind, he was also an idiot, he realizes.

“I know, I should’ve told you sooner,” Aegon gives him an apologetic look.

Aemond shakes his head. “I should’ve told her sooner.”

“Well, it’s only been what, seven years?” his brother chortles weakly while the dragon keepers finally bring out Sunfyre, and the dragon casts Aemond a curious look.

Aegon approaches the beast first, running his hand over the scales that shine bright in the sunlight, and the prince can never get tired of that blinding beauty. But his excitement mingles with another feeling.

“I value her friendship, you do know that, right?” he squints at Aemond, who simply nods.

“This is my way of saying that if you mess it up, I might push you off my dragon on our way back,” Aegon casually remarks, grabbing the rope to climb up.

Aemond falters with answering, reluctant to admit.

“There is a chance that I already messed it up.”

Aegon looks down at his brother and gives him a stern glare.

“Unmess it, then.” You don’t remember much from the past week, your days and nights blurred into one another. The only thing that stays on your mind is your father’s face — you can still see it so clearly, with his gentle gaze and his every wrinkle, the corners of his mouth always upturn like he’s a second away from smiling. You also remember how that face contorted in pain, how his body stiffened, and that scene plays on repeat in your head, over and over. And then there are only pieces of memories, torn and mushed together, and you can’t find it in yourself to sort them out.

You spend all your time at your father’s bedside, with a string of never-ending prayers falling from your lips. They don’t seem to help — and nor do the maester’s efforts, and you lose hope with each passing minute. As hours fly, you get a very bad feeling that soon turns into blood-curdling awareness. Deep down, you know what’s to come, and you hate yourself for it. You think you will never stop crying but by the time the maester declares your father’s demise, there are no tears left. Death has many faces — none of them looked at you with mercy.

Your mother wails, overtaken by despair, your sisters don’t leave her side, eyes puffy and full of sorrow, and you are sure that you look the same — yet you feel completely empty. There’s a cleft in a place of your heart, and all the feelings seemed to flow out, leaving you drained and emotionless, but it brings you no relief. Everything in your house reminds you of your father, his presence tangible in the rooms and in the halls, his image still as clear as a reflection in the mirror. The memories of him crawl out of every corner, seep from under the doors, fall on you along with the dust you brush off his things that you can’t make yourself take away.

Stacks of hardcovers with bookmarks in the middle.

The unfinished cup of wine.

The long grey coat hanging on the back of his chair.

Piles of letters left unanswered.

Parchments, ink and a quill that he will never use again.

All the pieces of him that you can’t look at, don’t want to look at — yet it’s all you see, and there’s is no hiding from it. You feel trapped in your own house, and you wait for the walls to collapse so maybe under the weight of them you will find some peace. You are restless in your grief, you are drowning in it.

The day of the funeral leaves a blank space in your memory, void of colors and sounds apart from everyone’s crying. The ceremony is rushed and there is only a handful of family members since your mother couldn’t bring herself to tell everyone yet. You don’t blame her for it — you think she’s too afraid to say it out loud, afraid that speaking the words will make them real, and she’ll have to finally accept his death. You have no problem with acceptance, you just don’t know how to move on. How to stay strong when you are shattered beyond repair.

Your home now feels like a coffin but everyone expects you to be in charge, so you force yourself to. Merely an hour after his body was buried in soil wet with rain, you find yourself sorting out his papers. You look through his diary, his scribbled notes, the calculations he made in attempts to stabilize the emptying coffers. He’s always been the responsible one, keeping count and cutting costs, planning for the future — and yet he’s been robbed of it. None of it makes sense to you and your father isn’t there to teach you. You clench your teeth in frustration, and it makes you want to put your head through a wall.

You push through the second and the third day. You give orders to the maids, who walk on eggshells around the house, sharing concerned looks. You take it upon yourself to bring meals to your mother and all but spoon-feed her so she at least will have some energy to get up from bed. She doesn’t — while you want nothing more than to get away. You’ve had a fair share of responsibilities your entire life but now there’s an abundance of them and it puts you in a chokehold, and you are all alone in your discomfort which brings you no respite at all.

On the fourth day you wake up feeling like the walls are closing in and you can’t breathe, the need to leave anchoring in your lungs. You don’t want to waste another second as you put on a coat right on top of your nightgown, frightened that each moment of stalling might lead to you being dragged into the same routine again. But the house is asleep, and the sun has barely risen when you tiptoe out of your room. You only wake up one maid, telling her you’ll go for a walk so your sudden absence doesn’t come off as a deed of cruelty.

You step outside and close the door behind your back, taking a slow, deep inhale. And just when the guilt is about to sneak up on you — you dart off into the morning fog.

The air is fresh and cooling against your skin as you run away from your house and through the trees, not minding the branches or the damp ground. You breathe the crisp air in, and it makes your body feel weightless, and you speed up, leaving no chance for the responsibilities to catch up with you. Patches of the forest, splattered with all shades of green, bushes and weeds that graze your knees — you pay them no attention as your feet carry you further away, up the hill, to the most remote place you can think of. You don’t know how long it takes for you to reach the narrow wooden bridge and cross the remaining field that ends with a cliff, but when you finally do, your feet ache and your lungs burn and you gulp air.

The sky is draped by the light layer of clouds but the blue of it stretches as far as the eyes can reach, and the movement of the sea can be seen in the distance. The morning is still with silence and it welcomes you, the fresh breeze encircling your body. The feeling of it isn’t gentle as the wind instantly bites every part of your skin that is covered with sweat. You should’ve worn thicker layers, you shouldn’t have rushed, maybe you shouldn’t have come at all — but you are too tired of thinking, of restrictions. Of yourself.

You let the cold seep in and pierce you to the marrow as you watch the waves meeting the horizon. You then close your eyes, hands coming up to cross over your chest. It’s an oblivion of some sort — with no demands and no tears, it’s only you and the wind. The empty space around you matches the emptiness in your heart, and the beating of it sounds like a hollow note. You feel nothing, you feel numb, but it’s so tranquilizing, you can’t help but give in, just to stop brooding for a few minutes — or maybe hours, you care not.

In this state of torpor, you almost miss the sound of wings cutting through the air. When you open your eyes, you only catch a shadow hidden by the clouds and a glimpse of gold but it’s still enough to guess. Sunfyre. At any other time, Aegon’s visit would’ve brought you joy yet right now it feels useless against the doldrums of your soul. At least your sisters will be happy to see him, you think, not having the slightest desire to move from your spot. The wind is now howling, the grass is rustling — and then the small measured sound joins the melody of nature. It sounds like someone’s approaching but their step is nearly noiseless. There is only one person who walks like that, and the realization brings you out of your trance.

You turn to Aemond before he can say anything, your gaze meeting his, and he immediately stands still. The distance between you is just like before, and you only now grasp the amount of time that has passed. You haven’t seen him in two weeks — and so much has changed, and nothing is the same — but when you look at Aemond, at every painfully familiar feature of his, your heart twinges. You really, really missed him, and it’s the first thing you feel in fourteen days.

He notes your lack of protest and hesitantly comes toward you, only pausing when he’s at arm’s length. His cheeks are flushed pink from the wind, the collar of his coat raised to the angles of his jaw.

“I didn’t want you to be alone,” his tone is filled with sadness. “Even if you despise me.”

“I could never,” you mirror the words he once said but your voice comes out too quiet and blank.

There is only compassion and understanding in his gaze, and you are hungry for both, so you don’t break eye contact. He doesn’t, either, and reaches out a hand — it moves to your shoulder as he says:

“I am so sor—” when his fingers come in contact with you, Aemond suddenly stops talking, and his eye darts to your arm. There is a flicker of confusion on his face that quickly turns into worry.

“You are freezing,” he breathes out, and his worry grows stronger in an instant.

Aemond cautiously guides his hand up and down your arm — you see the movement, clear as day, but you don’t feel it at all.

“I didn’t really notice,” you mumble.

You want to tell him that staying with your family drove you up the wall, that you lost sleep and the nights bring you no rest, that you accept your emptiness and loathe it. But the wind is still howling, your mind is clouded with exhaustion, and you are afraid that Aemond will get angry at you.

Instead, he pleads.

“Let me take you home,” he continues caressing your arm. “Please, let’s go back. You can’t —”

“I don’t want to,” you retort, and all the unsaid words bubble up and pour out. “I could not stay there any longer, it was all too much, I needed a break, I — it just made me feel like...,” your skin finally absorbs the heat of his touch which sends goosebumps down your spine, and you get short of breath.

“Like I wanted to disappear,” you say, voice barely above the whisper.

Your confession hangs in the air, and you catch that same unreadable emotion in his eye. Three heartbeats later Aemond removes his hand, and the absence of it threatens to strip you of your short-lived comfort. But then he unbuttons his coat — and opens his arms to you:

“Disappear here.”

His words break the ice of your numbness, filling your lungs with air — so much of it, you almost feel light-headed. You are cold, and you are lonely, and you missed him. In a heartbeat you fall into his embrace, with the same force one may plummet down from a cliff — only instead of waves, you are welcomed by his warmth, and you instantly sink into it.

Aemond takes you under his coat, gently putting it over your body, and then holds you tight. You instinctively wrap your hands around his waist, nestling against his chest. Your cold palms glide over his shirt, and Aemond involuntarily shivers but doesn’t budge. He starts slowly stroking your back, and you soak up the calmness that radiates off him. His touch is soothing, quieting your mind, and you lose yourself in the serenity that it brings. 

You are both lost in time, standing quietly, as your body gradually warms up and relaxes. You listen to his heartbeat, the rhythm of it even and lulling, and it makes you feel at peace.

When Aemond looks at you clinging to him, his heart swells with so much love, he can barely contain it.

“How are you feeling?” he asks softly.

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “It all happened so fast, I didn’t know what to do. I still don’t. Everyone expects something from me now and I... I wish he was still here.”

“Your father was the kindest man I have ever met,” his voice is laced with sorrow. “I am so sorry you had to go through that. I should’ve come sooner but I only found out this morning.”

“And you came,” you remark delicately. “It’s all that matters.”

You snuggle up to him even more and relish in the feeling of his body close to yours, finding solace in it. You let yourself forget about everything else in the world, comforted by his kindness as he shields you from all the worries and the troubles of life.

“Whose idea was it to take Sunfyre?”

“Aegon’s,” the prince chuckles. “He was very persuasive, I’ll give him that.”

“Is he waiting for you on the hill?”

“He went to see your family, offer his condolences. And maybe complain a little since he didn’t particularly enjoy the flight.”

You try imagining the two of them squeezed into the saddle, and you know Aemond must’ve teased Aegon all the way to your house. You feel the tickling of laughter in your throat but it doesn’t go higher and then dissolves. Still, it’s a start.

“How much do you regret agreeing to that?”

Aemond pauses — and then his low voice vines through your hair:

“Right now, I don’t.”

You feel his heart skipping a beat, and for some reason, his pulse speeds up. You wonder what the reason may be, and your cheeks heat up when you are struck by the answer you can’t dare to hope for.

Or maybe you can.

“I’m not marrying Ser Lannister,” you blurt out, your own chest vibrating with anxiety. 

Aemond pulls away just a bit, only to have a look at you.

“I heard about that,” he reveals. “He was never a good —”

“You are under no obligation to say anything or do anything,” you cut him off, nervously lowering your gaze, because if he tries to pity you it will break your heart all over again, and you cannot bear it right now. “I just... I knew I would never love him. So I believe it’s only for the best.”

You keep babbling, but he hardly listens, his eye fixed on your face. Aemond isn’t sure you fully allow yourself to be this vulnerable with anyone. But it’s his favorite side of yours — with your bashful sincerity, your overly complicated explanations that he understands with ease, your habit of talking with hands, with your searching gaze and your eyes bright with life. It’s all the little things that he adores.

It’s what makes his feelings finally spill over.

“...But we don’t need to talk about it, you don’t need to say anyth—”

His touch is so gentle, you barely register when Aemond puts a finger beneath your chin, lifting your head to look at him — and then suddenly his lips cover yours. His mouth is even warmer than his hands, and he gives you a couple of seconds to make sure you won’t pull away. And then he starts kissing you, slowly and steadily, in a way you could only dream of.

Aemond gently cradles your head, his lips are soft and ardent — they meld with yours, and time freezes and sounds fade as you melt into the kiss, into his touch. And at that moment nothing else matters. You are wrapped in his tenderness, the ocean of feelings flooding your body, and he enters your heart like he owns it. He always did.

Aemond is the one to break the kiss, sensing that you are gasping for air. You slowly open your eyes in a daze, as if you’ve been awoken from a dream.

“I will take care of everything,” he affirms, his mouth still only a couple of inches away. “You do not have to worry about a thing.”

One of your hands moved on top of his chest, and you feel that his heart rate is back to normal. The pounding of it pulls you back to reality.

“You mean that?” you whisper. “Aemond, I don’t have that much to offer.”

He brushes a strand of hair from your face and leaves a trail of light kisses up to your temple.

“You have everything a man can wish for,” he reassures you, and his gaze finds yours again. “Everything I have ever wished for.”

The prince takes your face between his hands, and his thumbs follow the contours of your cheeks.

“Even in a room full of art I can only look at you,” Aemond murmurs, his words are flamelike and go straight to your heart, making it flutter.

Only now you notice that the sun emerged from the clouds, and the golden light illuminates everything around you. You bask in it as well as in Aemond’s affection — and he makes you feel seen, safe, cared for. Loved.

“That was very poetic of you,” you tilt your head and lean closer to him.

“I agree with poets on one thing — we have no control over who we love. But I have never regretted loving you,” he can’t stop himself from placing a kiss on the edge of your mouth. “And if I had to choose, it would still be you.”

When you meet his gaze, this time you read it with ease — and you are sure it’s a mere reflection of your own. An overwhelming feeling sweeps over and spreads through you. But the ocean is calm, and you are not cold anymore — and Aemond does love you, after all.

You feel your mouth quirk in a smile, genuine and a very happy one. Aemond presses his forehead to yours and promises:

“From now on, you will always be my first choice,” and then you see him trailing for your lips.

And you believe him.

the taglist: @greenowlfactif, @mischiefmanaged71, @pasta-rask, @imjustboredso, @iiamthehybrid, @m00n5t0n3, @crispmarshmallow, @bellaisasleep, @aemondssuit, @ipadkidsworld, @itisjustwhatitis, @maximizedrhythms, @fckwritersblock, @hiatuswhore, @fantasyreader130, @bibli0thecary, @teapartydreams, @kyuupidwrites, @thelittleswanao3 (I couldn't tag some of you for whatever reason, so I'll just message you guys)

yep, it’s me again!

the title is someone’s quote (I have no idea where it’s from, pls help a girl out)

“Disappear here” are Jonathan Carroll’s words that have been engraved in my memory for years and they just popped into my head while I was writing in a haste and only then I realized wait, technically it’s a quote, you can’t do that?! but guess what, I did! I also tried to rephrase these two words but it looked weird so I’m letting you know that I suck as a writer

the bit when she babbles and he looks smitten with her — I couldn’t help but think of that scene from “North and South” (it screams Aemond to me!)

I imagined the cliff to look like this 🍃

I originally planned to turn the romance down just a notch ’cause I already have 4 sappy fics and I wanted this one to be more “realistic” but… oh well, me and romance go hand in hand, apparently.

you will see this version of Aegon more often because I enjoyed it immensely!

what do you guys think? comments and opinions are VERY welcome! 🥺 ✨ my masterlist English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes!

[mixelation]

i got yet another comment confused about mutagenicity's itatori so i guess i will write. what are these called. a shipping manifesto???

so first i will disclaim that this ship started as a joke and then proceeded to have me waffle around what i thought the dynamic would be, so some posts probably contradict each other. i was also on the fence about producing shippy content of tori with ANYONE for a while (i have very obviously changed my stance on this lmao)

so first, context. tori and itachi have a long, complicated history with each other. in plasticity, tori makes it clear she has no interest in fucking with itachi's goals, but she's also fully and demonstrably capable of doing just that, even by accident. she is also, by the events of mutagenicity, the only person in the entire world who knows his full backstory. he actively recruits her to konoha both because tori Knowing Things means he needs to keep an eye on her (because who the fuck knows what she will do) but also because he sees her as a valuable ally.

tori spends plasticity both with anxiety that itachi might do something horrible to her, resenting him for the power he holds over her, and then also low key enjoying his company. eventually she will realize he'd probably make her best possible ally.

in mutagenicity, they end up close friends. this is both because they're on the same team and also because they are fucked up adults in tweenaged bodies. who else are they supposed to hang out with? actual children? i don't think either would rank the other as their BEST friend, but they are pretty close. itachi respects tori's skills from day 1 and will defer to her on certain topics, which is not something he will do for most people. tori agrees to high treason to kill danzo for itachi with zero questions, conditions, or asking for anything in return, which does absolute wonders for itachi's affection for her. they end up with a deep, mutual trust for each other, and they enjoy each other's company

the part that started as a joke (and i'm leaving in because i think it's 1) funny, and 2) a great way to spotlight itachi's insane personality) is that itachi decides they should date without telling tori.

the reason for this is basically that his clan duty is to marry and have kids, so around age 16 mikoto starts shoving girls at him. the idea here is: the uchiha are progressive enough that his parents would prefer a love marriage for their son, but the marriage does have to happen, and itachi has yet to show romantic interest in literally everyone. itachi's issue with this is that he..... kind of hates other people. he doesn't want to date random teenage girls, but mikoto is a seasoned social manipulator and he keeps ending up in situations like "alone in the park with some girl and they're both eating ice cream HOW DID THIS HAPPEN." also now suddenly women are interested in him because he's a well-known celebrated genius important clan heir. his life? is hell?

and then he realizes all his problems would be solved if he simply got his own girlfriend. so he sits back and reflects on "women my age that i wouldn't hate spending time with" and the only answer is tori. so he starts inviting her places and obviously she says yes because they are friends and she enjoys spending time with him.

eventually tori figures out he's.... dating her? and she gets mad and breaks up with him because THAT'S AN INSANE THING TO DO, ITACHI. but then after she cools off she decides, actually, this is a great arrangement. she DOES like hanging out with itachi, but he does this annoying thing where he'll disappear for months because he's bad at socializing, and if they're dating she can strong arm him into not doing that. a lot of typical date activities are fun and she likes having an excuse to dress up. she likes making him pay for stuff (tori is also horrible). she likes the trickery/deception angle. she likes the social advantage of having someone she can make go with her to events, the fact that having a boyfriend means sexual harassment goes down, the bragging rights, etc.

so tori goes back to him and proposes they "fake date" for mutual benefit. dw, itachi, tori is also a seasoned manipulator, and this will go SO MUCH BETTER for you if you let her be in charge of it. and itachi is like "she is SO right, what was i thinking, tori loves fucking with people's heads--" and they start dating again!

except they aren't like..... romantic. like, both of them, as people, are not super into romance. they don't give off Dating Vibes to most people, unless you're part of their inner circle, in which case you're just witnessing itachi and tori discovering they have a mutually compatible approach to dating and romance. they're both treating it like some sort of long-term mission because they're both morons in the same direction, but if you're like deidara or shisui or someone, you've just had the horrible realization that they're probably going to marry each other.

itachi and tori think they are in cahoots. it is only a bonus that the cahoots are fun. however yes at some point when you've committed hard enough and are having enough fun, the cahoots are simply a committed relationship

tori: hey, are you ever going to go find a wife? wasn't that the plan?

itachi: (imagines dating literally anyone else) (imagines being less close to tori)

itachi: (don'tlikethat.jpeg)

itachi: .......do you want to marry me

tori: hm

tori: (imagines not being with itachi any more) (doubt.jpeg)

tori: yeah that sounds good

[xcerizex]

How obvious it is when they like you.

When the boys likes someone who has a tendency to overthink. Imagine if you meet them irl fr. You're not going to be certain that they actually like you unlike in the game and when they start flirting with you, you start getting super paranoid for some reason. Like some of us don't suffer the same thing. 💀

Alkaid:

Your first impression of him is that he's generally nice to everyone, you see. After several rounds flustered panic attacks, you gave him a nickname.

"Central air conditioner"

(This basically refers to a person who's nice to everyone)

This is when you first meet of course, so it left you flustered whenever he'd say or do anything sweet.

Sometimes you'd spend one hour during class just... overthinking about it. Trying to crush those rose-colored glasses.

You tell yourself that he's just being really friendly, like the same way he's always helping someone out.

It's evident seeing how many teddy bears he's gifted on a daily basis lmao

It's only after seeing the obvious difference between how he treats you and others when he comes in strong, do you consider his actions as him being romantically interested in you.

That's when it starts being really obvious. Like, really, really obvious.

(Psst, Halloween event.)

Ayn:

It's pretty obvious.

Man won't take one foot out his house no matter how much anyone begs him to but the moment you invite him out for something silly he's at the door calling you slow.

Not exactly but you get my point.

A good thing about his blunt attitude is that it leaves little room for doubt. You don't have to think so much when interpreting his actions and words.

And you know you mean something special to him when he makes both small and big exceptions for you the way he wouldn't do for anyone else.

(Princess Day event)

In short, there's a lot less confusion because he's more forward in expressing his interest in you.

Like, whenever he'd tease you in a flirting manner on rare occasions, your brain starts to shortcircuit and it takes a few minutes for you to understand that he's doing it because he sees you in a romantic way before your face turns red.

He teases you for that too.

Lars:

I'd say it's more obvious than not, especially after you spend more time with him. Doesn't mean you don't get confused.

He was playful when you first met him so you never really took him seriously. Especially when you see the way other girls react when they're around him.

Not that you thought of him as a player of course, not at all. You always thought it was just his character. In fact, you found it sweet how he's always trying to support your dreams.

His support makes you wonder however. Sure he could just be interested in supporting a future artist, but sometimes you find his actions and words going beyond a simple sponsor.

It makes your head go around in circles. And it gets a whole lot worse whenever he does something so endearingly sweet, you know it's got nothing to do with business anymore.

It leaves you flushed red when you finally arrive to a proper conclusion after an hour of thinking.

He's going to be the death of you.

Clarence:

Unlike the others, he is less obvious with his affection. He's much more subtle in regards to showing it.

He's extremely attentive when it comes to you and it shows. He'll frequently remind you to take care of your health, offer to grab a small bite for you when you mentioned you've skipped breakfast, and gently reprimands you when you don't take care of yourself enough at times, saying how important your wellbeing is to yourself, and to him.

😵‍💫

These small acts of concern are so sweet it leaves your brain in an overdrive. You chalk it up to him being a responsible, duty-bound Student Council President and stay in denial for a good long while.

Many times you'd just start banging your head in order to not get your hopes up cuz' he's just so damn caring.

It's only when you realize that his care for you is particularly more affectionate and intimate, do you actually start believing that he likes you in a romantic way.

Cael:

Where do I start with this man?

His entire existence is cryptic puzzle, his feeling are not gonna be any easier to pinpoint lmfao.

He's your guardian so naturally it's going to be harder for you to see him in a romantic light.

He could literally say "I love you" and you'd think internally;

'As a dad?'

💀

No wonder this man's not a LI until like, the third world lol.

While I wouldn't say it isn't obvious, his character makes it hard to discern his true feelings.

As time passes and if he's willing to accept his own feelings, his romantic affection for you becomes more apparent. It doesn't show, you just feel it.

It makes you wonder if you're being delusional. Sometimes you'd throw your pillow across the room whenever you started thinking about it. You'd call it absurd the moment you start believing that, maybe, just maybe, Cael sees you in a romantic way.

You're screaming into the sheets again. This is not going to be resolved anytime soon.

BONUS

William:

This is for that one William fan. Forgive me if he may seem OOC 🙏.

Oh, you get very confused.

William's the friendliest person on the block so it takes awhile for you to realize you mean something special to him.

Another "central air conditioner" ig?

Whenever he would go out of his way to help you, you tell yourself it's nothing special. That he would do the same for anyone because that's just how he is.

But one time you told him you'd fallen sick over text, literally ten minutes later he shows up at your door all sweaty with bags of medicine lined up on his arms because he forgot to ask what sort of sickness you had.

You spend the rest of your sick day mulling over if that meant anything because you literally cannot fathom if this was something he'd do for anyone else.

He does a lot of big things for the people he likes, but if it's for someone where it's beyond a simple friendship, you start to notice the smaller details in his actions.

It leaves your heart in a flurry and your mind in tangled threads. His actions however, are not bold enough to stop your thoughts from running the mile.

But trust me when I say that his feelings are more obvious to you than they are to himself.

So until he realizes his own feelings, you're both stuck. But once he does, he'll go all out to show you just how special you are to him.

[gotham-daydreams]

Weird to say, but I think I'm pretty forgiving of Damien. Yeah, he's rude and ignores the reader, but he probably does the same to everyone else lmao. With Dick who pays careful attention to everyone, it's a betrayal that he would neglect the reader because he should have been an older sibling. Plus Damien is like ten, it's kinda hard for me to hold him accountable when he grew up without knowing better and he's just emulating older members of the family. I'm pretty sure this is how youngest sibling privilege works lol

Yeah, I completely agree! Even then, it can be difficult to know that what you're doing is wrong when you see the people you admire and respect doing the same thing.

Like you said, Damian, in reality, is probably rude to everyone else and ignores them from time to time too. Though for the sake of the "Not [ ]" series, he just so happens to ignore the reader a little more when compared to the rest of the Batfam. Which can still be chalked up to him just following the mannerisms of the family without even thinking much about it.

Regardless, neglect is still neglect and what happened to the reader still isn't right- but I do kind of agree with you that Damian probably holds the least amount of capability. He's young, and you can't really expect him to fully be aware of the effects his actions have on other people, especially when that person:

1. Hasn't expressed how negatively the whole situation has effected them, and they don't exactly appreciate their entire existence getting ignored by so many people. (Which is valid and understandable! Because how can you expect someone who's been ignoring you for so long to not only listen to you, but even acknowledge you enough to notice you have something important to say? How can you expect someone so seemingly set on ignoring you, to care? You can't. So the reader stays quiet, but it is something worth pointing out, I feel.)

2. Again, sees that everyone around them pretty much does the same thing. So it's more of a "if they're doing it, it must be for a reason, so I'll do it too" (since Dick and Bruce are also ignoring you, and Damian actually cares about both of them).

Damian is the least aware that what he did was wrong to begin with because no one told it was, and those around him almost seemed to enable that behavior by continuing to do it themself.

I'd like to believe that maybe his behavior would've changed if he knew how badly it was effecting the reader, but that's also to assume that the others wouldn't. Though who knows?

As for everyone else? They're way past old enough to know that what they're doing is wrong. The neglect as a whole was a "team effort", and even if they won't consider it that, it basically was. All of them neglected you except for Alfred, and they all did it over the course of nearly the reader's entire stay at the Manor. If anyone should've known, it should've been them, and depending on your interpretation of the situation and everything - some are more at fault for neglecting the reader when compared to others.

Especially if they seemingly didn't ignore and tried to spend time with/bond with other members of the family, but the reader just didn't make the cut time and time again.

Like you said — Dick is easily one of the worst offenders simply because he's loving and all this stuff to the Batfam, but just not to the reader —and especially when compared to Damian who was just none the wiser for the most part.

[humanpurposes]

(Teaser) It Will Come Back

Chapter 3, Broken Bonds

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

A/n: I feel bad that it's been forever since this series had an update, and I'm just feeling silly today so I thought I'd share a lil something of what I've been working on (to hopefully motivate me to finish the chapter lmao).

Now…

The heat is relentless this summer. Light bleeds through the ancient stained glass windows of the Red Keep in beams of red, green, blue and gold, only to be lost to the dark wood floors, furniture and panelled walls. It is Aemond’s least favourite time of year, when the weather makes him irritable and the harsh light gives him a headache, when business tends to be busy and everyone is preoccupied with holidays and garden parties. He’s less inclined to distract himself with frivolity. 

His sleeves are rolled up, his long silver hair pulled into a ponytail, sweat starting to pool underneath the eyepatch over the left side of his face. He’s leaning over Aegon, one hand on the back of his chair, staring down at his laptop and they check over some details for next week’s event.

It’s not often Aemond finds himself in his brother’s office. Technically Aegon is his superior, ‘deputy operations manager’ according to the golden plaque on the door. This is more of a courtesy title because he couldn’t get a respectable job anywhere else, and it would be far worse for their father’s image to have a layabout son.

That’s the funny thing about the family business. It’s no secret that Viserys Targaryen didn’t want his sons involved in Dragon Bank, but his influence is not as all encompassing as he would like to believe, not since the Hightowers got a foot in the door thirty or so years ago… then another… then another. Viserys can make his demands and shout when he’s angry enough, but there is one truth he cannot deny; he needs them. He needs Otto. He needs Alicent. He needs Helaena and Daeron to stay perfect. He needs Aegon to not be a fuck up and that’s enough. And he needs Aemond because he’s good at his job. No one has an eye for detail like him, no one can make sense out of figures or persuade clients and investors like he can.

Why their grandfather wants him to look over PR and marketing nonsense is understandable, but irritating nonetheless.

Their father has been planninging this event for years, Dragon Bank’s fifth centenary gala, with all the pomp and grandeur of a bygone era, held at their ancestral seat of Dragonstone Castle, just outside the city. Five hundred years since one of their ancestors forged a throne for himself in King’s Landing, building an empire that still has most of the country under their family’s thumb. Viserys intends to use the occasion as a reminder to every individual and family in Westeros who thinks they are even slightly important that they cannot compare to the might of the Targaryens. 

There can be no oversights. Everything has to be perfect.

His eye scans over the diagram on the screen, circles surrounded boxes with names; the seating plan in the main ballroom. Then a name catches his eye and it makes his heart stop. He doesn’t want to believe what he sees but there it is on the screen, in Times New fucking Roman: Jaya Velaryon.

He’s hardly heard that name, read it, or heard it in six years. He can already feel a dull ache creeping into his skull, which he knows will catch like kindling and soon become a burning, blinding pain behind his eyes and in the crevices of his scar.

Aegon, completely oblivious, huffs a little laugh to himself. “Shit, yeah, I meant to say there was an update with the seating. So this could turn out to be quite interesting– fuck, are you alright?” 

“Fine!” Aemond snaps, staggering back from the chair. His head feels like it’s been run through with a knife and his fingers fumble to get his eyepatch off. “Fine– fuck! I’m fine.”

“Sit,” Aegon orders, quickly standing and guiding Aemond over to one of the leather sofas on the other side of the room, where the sunlight isn’t so direct.

The pain is often like this, striking suddenly, spreading quickly like a forest fire, eating away at him like a disease, and he has no choice but to endure it.

He feels the eyepatch slip from his face before something cold presses against the worst of his scar. He reaches up to clasp his hands around it: a glass water bottle, one Aegon is holding. His brother is useless most of the time but he does have his moments.

“Fuck it’s all red,” Aegon mutters. “Have you got meds with you?”

When Aemond opens his mouth to speak his jaw is trembling. “Office,” he says, gritting his teeth together, trying to control his breath and the extent of the pain. “It’s in the office.” He can see where the packet is in the first draw under his desk.

“I can go and grab some–”

“No,” Aemond says, grabbing Aegon’s arm so he won’t move. 

He can handle this. Every time this kind of pain flares up he thinks of how much it hurt that night, how terrified he was as he felt the blood gushing from the gash in his eye, slipping through his fingers. The pain had been so great he thought it might kill him. If he can get through that night, the first few hours in the hospital, the months of recovery or the years since, then he can get through a fucking headache. 

He closes his eye and breathes in counts of three. In through the nose, hold, and out. Between that and the bottle against his face the pain starts to feel a little duller and the room doesn’t feel so close.

“Is it… you know,”

Did seeing Jaya’s name shock him so severely that his body went into meltdown? Is his heart still pounding in his chest at the thought of reading her name and the possibility of seeing her again? 

Aemond exhales irritably against the back of his throat, defeated, but always stubborn.

[mazuriri]

4.6 update

I'm continuing my thread on Lyney x traveller since Lyney can’t stop showing his ‘feelings’ 👏 (and I write here because I've run out of space to put photos in the other thread).

＊ Arlecchino’s story quest :

During Arlecchino’s quest, it was predictable to come across Lyney and his siblings, along with the inevitable moments shared between the magician and the traveler. Their paths crossed right at the start of the quest in Poisson, with Lyney who calls them from a distance.

The introduction of Lyney x Traveler right from the beginning of the quest is just heartwarming. It's truly delightful to witness their joyous reunion after being apart for such a long time. One cannot help but notice Lyney's excitement as he spots the Traveler from a distance and eagerly call out to them, and the Traveler reciprocating the same gesture is simply heart-melting.

As a fan of this ship, these small actions hold great significance for me. The previous interactions between them have paved the way for a newfound sense of friendliness, which is beautifully exemplified by the Traveler's warm greeting "It's been too long." This reunion with Lyney marks a significant milestone in their relationship, showcasing the evolution of their bond.

The traveler's arrival never fails to ignite a spark of joy in Lyney. This has been demonstrated multiple times and it is remarkable how this simple encounter can instantly brighten his entire day. What is truly comforting is that Lyney doesn’t hide his enthusiasm, openly expressing his delight at their reunion in Poisson.

According to him, this encounter seem destined, as if fate itself has orchestrated them.

After Arlecchino proposed that the traveler should stay in Poisson for a while, she then requested Lyney to entertain the guests, to which Lyney willingly agreed, expressing that it had always been his dream to welcome the traveler into his home and introduce them to his siblings. While others may have different dreams, Lyney's dream was centered around introducing his family to the traveler, as family holds immense importance to him. He had previously expressed his desire to invite the traveler to his home, considering them as a part of his own family. Now, in this quest, his long-awaited dream has finally come true.

(Now his dream has come true, will he have a dream to ask the traveler in marriage lol?)

This guy meticulously explained his process in Poisson, only to discover that it presented an ideal opportunity to exhibit his culinary skills to the traveler. Of course, Lyney... Go above and beyond to leave an even greater impression, as if your magic tricks weren't already enough.

Also dear magician… Other people have something else to do than show their talent in cooking 🤨 (Maybe he wants to be a skilled husband who can cook for his beloved in the future LOL)

As Lyney prepared to hand over the supplies, Chapleau was rendered speechless and filled with astonishment upon coming face to face with the famous traveler and Paimon, whose names had been circulating extensively in discussions among everyone.

Throughout the encounter, Lyney appeared either irritated or nonchalant, emitting an aura of "Dude... there's no need to be so shocked" or "Hey, don't stare at my crush like that" (Could it be that he was feeling jealous? 🤨 There are various interpretations of his expression in that moment, but let's assume it's jealousy lol). He even cautioned him and the other children to refrain from potentially annoying or frightening the traveler and Paimon.

(Let’s not forget that he was the one who was excited to introduce his siblings to the traveler and look what face he makes lmao, he can’t be more obvious.)

The traveler has gained immense popularity, and it is all thanks to Arlecchino and Lyney. Both of them constantly talk about the traveler, and Lyney never misses a chance to mention them. Arlecchino, on the other hand, not only talks about the traveler but also brings up Lyney in her conversations. It is amusing to see how Arlecchino knows about the bond between her son and the traveler share. (I will come back later about Arlecchino's perspective on their relationship)

This has led to children being well-informed about the traveler, with Arlecchino and Lyney playing a significant role in spreading awareness about the traveler's presence.

You know what’s the funny part? The irony lies in the fact that Lyney previously mentioned the traveler's fame within the organization, which raises the question of who is truly responsible for their popularity. It is evident that the traveler's popularity is attributed to the detailed accounts provided by Lyney and Arlecchino, as confirmed by the children during their conversation (because they told so much about the traveler according to Foltz and Chapleau.)

Lyney my boy… there is no way to avoid the children because it is evident that you have been discussing the traveler's actions quite often. This is why they are so well-informed about the situation. Alrecchino also contributes to this knowledge by frequently mentioning Lyney and how the traveler has been of great assistance to them.

Following Freminet's disclosure regarding Clervie, Lyney opts to engage in a private discussion with him in a secluded corner to address familial matters. The traveler and Paimon detect the escalating tension between the two and grow apprehensive. Consequently, they make the decision to intervene in order to avert any potential conflict that may arise between Lyney and Freminet during their conversation.

Paimon emphasizes the bond of friendship among the group, highlighting the shared experiences they have already gone through. What made me smile throughout was that the Traveler immediately agreed with Paimon and didn't hesitate to help Lyney and Freminet. Unlike in the past, there is no trace of doubt or suspicion, they were ready to offer their assistance. As they say, sometimes guests can be useful and Lyney immediately understood what they meant.

The Traveler's bond with Lyney and their siblings has been solidified as one of friendship and care, leading them to offer their help despite the dangerous circumstances. Lyney, aware of the risks involved, attempted to dissuade the Traveler from getting involved, but his pleas fell on deaf ears as the Traveler remained steadfast in their decision to stand by their friends. They just couldn't abondon the siblings, and that's the traveler we all know.

Lyney finds himself at a loss for words, but he expresses his sincere gratitude to the traveler for their assistance once again. The traveler's willingness to help in such a situation deeply touches Lyney, and he is truly moved by their continuous support. The numerous times the traveler has come to Lyney's aid have left an indelible mark on his memory, and he feels an immense sense of gratitude towards them. Each action taken by the traveler holds a special place in Lyney's heart, as he genuinely cares about their well-being. Despite his initial concern for the traveler's safety and his desire to shield them from harm, Lyney understands that they are not easily swayed by his protective gestures. As I mentioned before, he really wanted to keep them out of it, but knowing them for a while now, Lyney already knows they wouldn't easily accept what he would propose.

It is in this moment that he utters the heartfelt words, "I'll protect you like my life depends on it." This statement reflects Lyney's unwavering commitment to safeguarding the traveler, even if it means putting his own life at risk. He is truly willing to protect them at all costs, even if it means putting his own life in danger. He only cares about his family, including the traveler since Lyney considers them family too. It may seem very sweet at first but if we delve deeper, Lyney's words reveals a profound level of care.

• Do you remember when Wriothesley 'kidnapped' Lynette, causing Lyney to panic as he was ready to give himself to Wriothesley in exchange for Lynette’s release. In Arlecchino’s quest, he became upset with Freminet for putting his own life in 'danger' with Clervie's situation. Although Lyney said that the others will be punished by Arlecchino, he was especially really worried about Freminet, showing genuine concern for him. Lyney's deep-rooted fear of losing his siblings is palpable, as he cherishes them dearly and is willing to go to great lengths to protect them, showcasing a touching and sad aspect of his character. We already know that this is not the first time that Lyney has acted in this way, we have already been aware for a long time that Lyney will not hesitate to put his life at risk for his siblings.

However, it remains unclear whether Lyney values his own life or not, but what is certain is that he is ready to sacrifice his life for his loved ones.

(Here for example, Lyney immediately threw himself to protect Lynette before Freminet blocked Arlecchino's attack.)

Personally, I have the urge to give him a wake-up call and remind him that his life holds just as much value, urging him to be cautious. This is the reason why Lynette became angry with him during this quest, and I can empathize with her. Let's be honest, Lyney's actions come off as self-centered : he chooses to deal with the situation 'alone' and doesn't want Lynette to know (same situation in Lynette hangout), but unfortunately, she was there the whole time and got angry at everyone, especially Freminet and Lyney. (I swear their siblings relationship makes me emotional)

———————————

Upon knowing the secret activities that had been occurring behind her back, Arlecchino resolved to take matters into her own hands. However, just as she was on the verge of initiating her plan, Lyney stepped in to intervene and prevent the situation from escalating further (with Freminet, Lynette and Chapleau). Regrettably, their efforts proved to be in vain. Nevertheless, Arlecchino decided to change tactics : they have to fight her.

Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet all agree to this, prompting the traveler to recall the consideration given to them by Arlecchino. Before the punishment, she had asked for a consideration from the traveler and had clearly stated that when the time comes, they must make the appropriate choice when the time comes. Now, that moment came at the time of the punishment of the members of the house.

The traveler carefully considers Arlecchino’s words and because they had made a promise to do so, they ultimately make the choice to support Lyney and the siblings by joining them in battle. It brought a smile to my face to see that the traveler had decided to fight alongside Lyney and the others, as they too didn’t want to witness the 'traitors' get killed, which is understandable. However, their motivation was also to assist Lyney and show respect for his decision. Lyney is also taken aback by the traveler's decision to join them, and I am confident that he will appreciate and acknowledge their actions.

✨ Extra :

I hadn’t mentioned it in my previous thread but I have now made the decision to address this topic and delve into Arlecchino's perspective on the traveler.

Lyney's trust in the traveler is a significant revelation, especially considering his usual guarded nature towards others. This newfound openness towards the traveler showcases a level of comfort and confidence that Lyney rarely displays with anyone else, making it a noteworthy point in their relationship.

The significance of Lyney's statement to Arlecchino, where he identifies the traveler as the person he trusts the most, cannot be understated. Arlecchino, being well-acquainted with her children, understands the weight of these words and the depth of trust that Lyney has placed in the traveler. This revelation sheds light on the unique bond between Lyney and the traveler, highlighting the exceptional level of trust that exists between them, a bond that transcends Lyney's usual reservations towards others.

In the house, each individual see themselves as “family”, prioritizing their connections over engaging with the outside world. Arlecchino emphasizes the significance of regarding a stranger as a family, highlighting the gravity of this notion. Moreover, it is important to acknowledge that they are fatui and opening up to other people outside the house is crucial. Arlecchino understands that the children, particularly Lyney, hold an affection for the traveler. Therefore, when she emphasizes the importance of the traveler valuing this friendship, she warns the traveler to take this friendship seriously, that they should not break this relationship or it could lead to unfavorable consequences.

Arlecchino, after careful consideration, decided to place her ‘trust’ in Lyney and the other siblings. She effectively conveys to the traveler the depth of friendship that exists between Lyney and his siblings, emphasizing its significance. The traveler, having witnessed this bond, is not only accepting of it but also respects and admires Lyney's relationship with his siblings.

They literally have the blessing from Arlecchino since she supports and respect them. With the 'Father' now endorsing the friendship her son shares with the traveler, and Lynette supports what her brother feels (she told the traveler to take care of him many times), Lyney is indeed fortunate to have the blessings and support of both his ‘Father’ and sister. So….

When is the marriage lol?

———————

That's all for this analysis, it was to be expected to have moments between Lyney and the traveler in Arlecchino's quest, I mean... it was OBLIGED. It is now evident that the Traveler considers Lyney and his siblings as genuine friends and is willing to assist them in any situation, despite their affiliation with the Fatui.

Speaking of which, Arlecchino expressed her intention to make Lyney the next 'King' of the house if he stays, to which Lyney reluctantly agrees. Throughout the conversation, the Traveler remained silent, not objecting at all, simply listening throughout the conversation. Despite the fact that the house is part of the Fatui, the Traveler respects Lyney's decision. The development between them is remarkable, and I am pleased to see the Traveler finally opening up to Lyney despite their past, always being there for him and his siblings. Their friendship is truly endearing, and that's why I love them. Everything they have overcome in the past is now ‘resolved’, and they are always happy to reunite.

Despite the focus being primarily on Arlecchino in her quest, Lyney and the others played a significant role, and their contributions were exceptional.

[a-teacup-of-golden-cracks]

DNI if you're a bigot (yes that includes you idiots who think I'm a sissy and not a woman) and do not be sexual with me if you're over 35 or a minor

Hello, I'm not going to say my real name so just call me Daniel (they/she and he if you prove you respect me enough). I am AMAB autistic gender-fluid transfem ENTIRELY CIS HET WHITE CHRISTIAN MAN THAT IS IMMUNE TO MODERATION that is a former plural system and now a singlet. I love all things nerdy like MTG, D&D, listening to infodumps, Pokémon and Honkai Star Rail. I also play Clash of Clans but put literally zero effort into doing it well. Also my gender is whatever makes me most attractive to you, but the gay version of it.

Idk what I'm really doing here but tumblr is a great dopamine farm. It's also where I met my besties and (not actually it's an inside joke) wives @subbyblue @atlasofthestars113 and @verdantmothmachinations

You are highly encouraged to do any asks at all I love attentions. DMs are also encouraged as long as you get to know me and gain consent first. Honestly just send any ask it gives many happy chemicals.

Minors shouldn't be looking at this blog but I can't stop anyone so 🤷 (you'll get bitch slapped with a block though if you try to do anything horny with me and you don't have your age somewhere or are a minor). However, if you want to ask a question about kink/sex for purely educational reasons I will highly encourage anyone and everyone, regardless of age, to do it. We need much, much better sex education especially around kink and kink safety.

Inspired by @xenasaur

This blog is safe for queers of all types, racial minorities, addicts, age regressors, systems (endogenic included), and systems with littles.

You should know that I'm an orca.... and orcas rule anything they can see >:3

For anything that happens in DMs I'll need to know you a bit first, I'm a person too and want be seen as such.

My general limits are scat, gore, raceplay, ageplay (though I'll happily care for you in a platonic sense!!), emotional manipulation (both directions), corruption of myself, intox without consent prior to the intox and more as I think to add them. Don't act or suggest doing aggressive or controlling things to me (ie: tearing clothing off me, pinning me down, gagging or restraining me, domesticating me, etc), I like being in control of myself at all times and having my body respected. The only person allowed to dehumanize me is me. I like the terms Mistrum, Mommy, and Mistress, and enjoy many many kinks including but definitely not limited to: petplay, sadism, general dominance/control, breeding, bondage, monsterfucking, and ahh... harder kinks I tend to keep to my hard kink blog ( @anunholyforehand )

However, my limits when subbing are almost everything (I'm very very vanilla and just want to be praised when it happens). Honestly when I feel subby the cuddles and comforts are much more important than anything else. Oh hey you actually read my limits, good job, have a link to all my audios I've done.

Also have a link to commission me

New thing!! I am a singlet but this wasn't always the case. I don't expect you to understand how or why but I do expect you to respect this fact. I am one and I am whole now. I will keep myself.

Stolen from someone else but the point remains

Legal stuff cause privacy (I'm fully aware it will make next to no difference but on the off chance it ever matters I may as well have it, took me like five seconds to copypaste the image anyways lmao)

[moonelnone]

LUFFY WANTS TO FLY A KITE AU QnA!!! Thank you for supporting my mini comic, as a ty I compiled a bunch of questions below.!

it’s a long one, so beware!

Q (Anonymous): What inspired you to write this comic? Outside the horrors what are you trying to tell?

A: Inspiration would probably be the frequent hallucinations I have and my longing to go back in the fields... I miss my cows 😭 As for the story i’m trying to tell.. It’s a bit hard to explain without spoiling the story….

Q: (@oddity-txt): For your kite au- what do ace and sabo see when they look at luffy?

A: Clearly something that isn't Luffy, but it looks like Luffy

Q: (Anonymous): Since Vivi is introduced would she play a key role or would she appear for like just a few parts, would she have a blog like Sabo?

A: She's important to the story!! She's child of the pastor in this au-- Sabo and Ace used to be Altar servers for his church so they have history of working with her before... As for a blog.. No not really. Though if you look close enough you'll find that you can contact Vivi just before the events of the story to pry information.. But unfortunately whatever happens to her is set in stone •ᴗ• Q: (@washingmachineonfir ): Can you elaborate in religion topic in the city? About the house, why its like this? How many kids disappear?

A: The religion in ASL's neighborhood is simple, you know it already. Now about the house? You don't wanna know. As for the kids... hm.. Depends on how many kids can fill a school bus Q: (@courtroomac3): Hi

A: Get outta here boy Q: White boy Flavor of the month...

A: idk Q: (@humoofsegsual) Is there a possible ending in which everyone dies?

A: nods nods, when that happens everything disappears . Don't forget to say goodbye before it happens!!!! Q: (@plastirk): What kinds of trigger warnings are we gonna see?

A: everything in this list

Q: (Anonymous): Why does Nika go after Ace and Sabo?

A: Because Luffy wants to be with them . But Nika doesn’t want to let go of Luffy.

Q: (Anonymous): Does Nika hate Ace and Sabo?? all their interactions with them are with malice 😭

A: I wouldn’t say malice I suppose… I’d say maybe frustration?

Q: (Anonymous): Where are other characters in this? Like Garp, Dragon, and etc

A: They’re living their normal lives somewhere else!! Koby and Helmeppo are employees at the store Sabo often goes to. Vivi is a librarian, her father is a priest in the town’s church, she met Ace and Sabo a lot because they were altar servers back then! Law is one of the brothers’ neighbors, he frequently leaves though. (Copy pasted from my discord)

Q: (Anonymous): Is it true that one of the brothers might die ☹️

A: . Yes! Im cheering for their downfall! but you guys aren’t 😞

Q: (Anonymous): Are ASL biologically related here?

A: …No

Q: (Anonymous): What does the kite have to do with this au?

A: It’s something Luffy owns!!!! Don’t worry about it too much ;]

Q: (Anonymous): Is there a symbolism with the ghost costume? It makes me wonder what was it for other than to scare A and S

A: It’s by far the biggest hint in the first part 😵‍💫 I wonder if anyone caught it at first

Q: (Anonymous): Are Luffy’s friends going to appear? (Zoro, Nami, Sanji, and Ussop?)

A: mhm! You’ll see one or two of them sooner or later

Q: (Anonymous): What wouldve happened if we chose the other option in the first two parts?

A: The first poll would’ve decided on who runs the ‘blog’ ^w^!!

the one who wasn’t pick was cursed to run a tumblr blog lmao

Last Question:

Q: (Anonymous): Why are Luffy’s friends here if Nika just wanted him?

A: Luffy treasures his friends.!!

Bonus:

Q: (Anonymous): Will Detective Chopper have the same horror elements as the Kite au?

A: Yeah, but I suppose it’s more drama oriented

[gorgeouslypink]

hii pink. i'm a little scared to post this publicly but honestly what's the worst that could happen LMAO.

anyways,, i'm in a little bit of a rough spot w the void. i've reached the point where i can confidently say that i've had enough epiphanies to know that i'm doing everything absolutely right— i know that i'm the operant power and that there's nothing beyond or above me. every morning before my 'attempts' i pep talk myself/subconscious and basically remind myself that i have no limits and there's nothing i can't achieve and all i need to do is decide. i go in so confident and completely convinced that this is 'the one',, i affirm to keep my mind focused and place my awareness on being one w myself. i see the void as a state like any other. everything about my physical body and realm is a product of my assumptions so i know i don't have to jump through hoops to separate myself from my own creations. i could go a little more into this but honestly my mindset is perfect as far as i'm concerned.

i've been like this for a few days now ?? i'm not sure how many exactly but i know it's been long enough to completely purge the old story as i never walk away from an attempt discouraged and immediately revise it. i do have a small amount of opposing thoughts from time to time but they're really weak and i shut down them down immediately with a "these thoughts are not mine and have nothing to do with me".

i'm sorry this is a lot but i just wanted to give insight on my situation before i ask why i haven't 100% tapped in yet. i completely understand if you don't have any advice for me,, i'll keep persisting no matter what.

also to anyone else who might see this; it might not mean much but please don't be discouraged by my situation !!! you and i are totally different beings so my lack of complete success has absolutely nothing to do with you,, keep pushing and don't mind me :)

Hi love! I honestly stay away from LOA asks because I didn't use LOA during my own void journey and I have not researched it enough to be at a degree of giving others advice on it, as well as my opinion that the law is very reliant of interpretation, meaning it might be understood and utilized by everyone in a different way. However, I just thought that your ask was so sweet so I'll try my best to answer. I'll start off with this quote:

"If, having read this book, having a thorough knowledge of the application and working of the law of assumption, you faithfully apply it in an effort to attain some intense desire and fail, what is the reason? If, to the question "Did you persist enough?", you can answer "Yes" – and still the attainment of your desire was not realized, what is the reason for failure?

The answer to this is the most important factor in the successful use of the law of assumption.

The time it takes your assumption to become fact, your desire to be fulfilled, is directly proportionate to the naturalness of your feeling of already being what you want to be – of already having what you desire."

-Neville Goddard, The Power of Awareness

During my own void journey, I struggled with the law. There are a few things that I manifested but others, I struggled with, including the void and I ended up entering without LOA. However, now as I've helped others on their void journeys, and have read more posts from all the amazing bloggers here as well Neville's work itself, I've realized that the thing that I was missing from my manifestation equation was exactly this: feeling my desire to be natural.

And how do you feel your desire to be natural?

"The essential feeling of naturalness can be achieved by persistently filling your consciousness with imagination – imagining yourself being what you want to be or having what you desire."

-Neville Goddard, The Power of Awareness

So the key things to take away so far is that for our desire to come into fruition, we ourselves must rest easy in the feeling of naturalness (It needs to seem natural to you). How do you do this? Be persistently imagining yourself with your desire, imagine and feel it until it feels natural to you.

This is kind of like when you keep practicing something, like a presentation over and over, pretending like you're acctually presenting. At first, you kind of forget words here and there and it just feels unnatural but as you keep practicing, doesn't it feel way more natural and eventually it is just natural and you know youre going to wing it? Same thing applies to the void. You need to keep imagining that you've already entered, with whatever scenario that may be, over and over so that entering the void and succeeding feels natural to you.

This is why I personally vouch for SATS. In SATS, you turn to your imagination and feel yourself in the feeling of the wish fufilled and keep repeating until you fall asleep, so that you fall asleep in the state of the wish fufilled, allowing for you to attain a feeling of naturalness that will guarantee your desire.

You have to understand that the basis of the law is that an assumption, though false, if persisted in, will harden into fact. Anything you can assume and create with your imagination can come true, but the way to bring your desire into fruition is by attaining the feeling of naturalness and the method I personally interpret as the best way to do do is SATS, so I recommend looking into this and this post.

I hope this helps! 💗

[aleksanderscult]

I loved your analysis! Can you analyse the (barely there, not enough) Darklina scenes from the KOS duology? I could not rationalize some of what was going on there.

First of all, I'm so sorry for taking that long to reply, anon! (Hasn't it been over two weeks since you send this or what??😭😭)

Second, thank you so much for your kind words! 💗💗

Third, you and I both friend 🤝🤝

'Cause honestly I didn't know what the fuck was happening in that interaction too 😭

I'll actually analyze the only Darklina scene we got in RoW. But if you want another one too, just send me an ask!

So! Let's dive in and analyze that hot mess, shall we?

(note: I had to go back and read this scene very carefully in order to understand what the actual fuck they were saying💀)

⚠️TW!: PTSD, trauma⚠️

The way he's so obedient with her even in this life 😭

If somebody else had ordered him to do that, he wouldn't obey. But Alina? Alina is a different story and this is the first time he hears her voice since his death in R&R.

'Any little victory'

Uhh....okay...??

You made him wipe his feet. I'm.... impressed??

(confusion levels 📉)

LMAO MY BOY WOKE UP AND CHOSE VIOLENCE

I always believed that the dynamic between Aleksander and Alina involves lots of teasing. But not in the fun sense. But in the sense of "I'm getting under your skin. My words to you sting".

And that's what the Darkling does here too. He's a prisoner. Their prisoner. So he tries to gain the upper hand by using his wits, his past with Alina and the latter's trauma against her to get even.

Pretty clever, huh?

See what I mean?

He tries to weaken her confidence and it's interesting that back in Keramzin he also tried to get even (and he did) by killing her mother figure.

Aleksander: "Wanna fuck with me? Wanna mess with me? How about that time when I burnt that orphanage and killed your "mother"?"

*Alina's sure confidence is gone and now the Darkling has the upper hand in her feelings*

OUTSTANDING MOVE 👌

Excuse me, Misha? Who the Hell gave you the permission to interrupt or talk at all??

Also, do you really expect from the Darkling to remember a little boy while he was too busy trying to rule a nation, win a war and persuade Alina to join him?

And if you also expect him to remember you from that time when Baghra went out to confront her son while you escorted her, then you're also wrong. 'Cause he was too busy being furious that his mother sided and helped the opposite side and too busy being distraught because he was watching her fall to her death.

You're not important, son.

Sit down.

LMAO THIS IS SO HILARIOUS

Misha you're still an infant. Please shut up.

I honestly liked him in the Grisha Trilogy (I found him a cutie) but now I want to slap him and everyone else in this duology except Aleksander

The Darkling has survived numerous murdering attempts against him. He was finally killed by Alina not because of some grand display of her powers but because the former was so heartbroken by Alina's fate (and his own because he would be alone) that he just gave up on his life. Basically he committed suicide.

Misha, you wouldn't be able to kill him even now that he's powerless and in chains. Probably you would stumble and fall in the effort or smth.

Uhh actually no, Mal.

Threating him only makes you sound like idiots, honestly.

Also, since when did Mal gained ✨wisdom✨?

Wasn't he the hot-tempered one in the trilogy who always got angry with the mere mention of the Darkling? And the one who wanted to kill him as well?

Alina, you know damn well what his name is.

Honestly, I think she didn't say it because she wanted to respect the fact that he trusted her to keep it.

And I agree that Yuri is a horrible name for him. Makes him seem like a fisherman 😭

Meanwhile Alina in S&B:

So either Bardugo kinda forgot these scenes or we're led to believe that these scenes weren't her being happy, but we thought she was happy.

(me casually ignoring that theory because I choose to believe only the things that MAKE SENSE)

The fact that Bardugo made Alina believe that she was unhappy when she was whole with her powers and surrounded by people like her but totally happy now that she has no powers (a part of her soul actually) and living with a man that slut-shamed her in a toxic, childhood place is umm... yeah. Not good.

So basically:

Aleksander: "You look different. You look like shit. What the fuck did they do to you? This is not you"

Alina: "No bro I'm happy now that I live in toxic conditions where the teachers mock me, Mal takes me out for a walk to forget my psychological traumas and I raise some Grisha children that will fade because they don't use their powers and some others that I probably am in no condition to raise. At least that's what the author said is happiness, bro."

Aleksander: "......."

Alina: "......"

The readers: "........."

ALEKSANDER IS HONESTLY ALL OF US FRR WITH HIS LINES

"In peace"

Yeah, having PTSD certainly is peaceful. And knowing that you abandoned your country and left its fate to chance certainly makes you sleep like a baby at night.

"We chose the life we wanted"

Alina, you didn't CHOOSE to lose your powers. And before that you didn't even know what you wanted to do with your life. It was a last minute decision for you.

"I fell pray to the same greed that drove you"

Girl, are we the only ones who did our homework??

In his POV in RoW he confirmed that he tampered with merzost in the past because he wanted to stop Ravka's wars. So as far as we know he never used power exclusively for himself.

"I paid the price for tampering with merzost"

Now hold a second. I thought that the reason Alina lost her powers is because Morozova wanted that said power to be shared by any otkazat'sya around. It wasn't that much of a punishment as much as a need for Morozova to share that power.

Unless it was..... both?

I just want a guy that will believe in me and my abilities the way Aleksander does with Alina, man 😭

He strongly believes that she could become a Queen even without her powers. And he's actually so right when he says to her that her wounds won't heal. Because no matter how much you try to convince yourself that you are alright. No matter how hard you try to persuade your mind that you're not broken, reality will always hit you. Some wounds never heal and Alina's certainly will not. She didn't lose a toy, she lost a part of her soul and witnessed many die. How the hell does she think she's suitable to raise children, when she herself is NOT okay psychologically?

"In the wake of your wars"

Excuse me. Why is the Fjerdan and Shu wars always the Darkling's fault??

"And maybe when our country is free, then that wound will close"

She sounds so brainwashed bye--

And just like I said, wounds like that never close unfortunately. It can only become more bearable with time. But not forgetable.

Ah yes. Bardugo makes us watch how cute their relationship is.

Am I supposed to take off my camera and snap pictures of them whispering with tears in my eyes: "They look so adorable"?

'Cause I won't.

The way Bardugo has made Mal unfazed by the Darkling's comments. A thing that completely contrasts his nature in the Grisha trilogy.

He also made him have "sassy" lines because we've got to like him somehow, right? 🤗

Still hate him

Basically, dear anon, the author has made Mal more "likeable", immune to the Darkling's insults, patient and witty in order for us to change our mind about him and finally like him.

(mission failed btw)

He is literally nothing like his trilogy counterpart and, if possible, she made him more annoying.

(how the hell she managed to do that, I don't know)

I just feel sorry for Aleksander who has to deal with all these jerks. If I were there, I would have helped him kill them and bury their bodies.

Because you let your heart and feelings get the better of you, Aleksander. Because you proved to be the most human of all these characters here. You let her come close. And that's what killed you.

(also, shut up Misha)

Alina, you could have said "no" to that invitation. So stop acting like they dragged you from the hair here.

"Do you think you could manage it?"

Do you, Alina? 'Cause really, what did YOU do to make the lives of Grisha better? At least he built a palace for them.

"It's not like you didn't get a fair try before. Hundreds of tries"

Yeah, and half of them failed because you got in the way. You refused to listen to him and, even if you didn't like the way he dealt with the persecution, you chose to run away (again) instead of deciding to stay and do better.

SHE DID NOT JUST SAY THAT ZOYA AND NIKOLAI COULD DO BETTER LMAO 😭😭

Zoya, the very fact that he mentioned you should feel like a badge of honor.

And yet Ravka is in its worst condition ever.

Sorry Alina but I don't see shit from them.

The fact that the Darkling keeps mentioning that he's eternal is to remind them that he has seen everything and done everything. He has more experience than they will ever have. Not to gloat about it. And yet Alina takes it as the latter.

And it's funny that Alina turns him down for the job saying he has no powers when Alina herself suffers from the same condition 😀

Finally someone with self-reflection.

THAT'S WHAT I'M SAYING!!

PREACH!! PREACH!! 👏👏

When you have the "villain" exposing the true problem in the story, the flaws and failures while having the heroes screaming "EVERYTHING IS FINE. YOU'RE WRONG!" then you know that something is wrong.

How the Hell are they gonna provide eternal peace in Ravka and to the Grisha when:

They have no experience

They are too busy criticizing the villain instead of looking at their own flaws

They doubt themselves

(you can add to the list, guys)

And he's not shaken because he's talking with a Saint, Zoya. He's shaken because he's talking to Alina. She always had a way in getting under his skin. He said it.

"Fine. Make me your villain" fits here 'cause he never perceived himself as the bad guy but he knew that this is what others thought of him.

I think it still stung to him to know that others saw his every action in a negative light but he still kept going. And sometimes he even used it (at the end of R&R).

Alina still wants to believe that there's something redeemable inside him. Her POVs were always the "kindest" in the way they painted the Darkling.

MISHA COULD YOU PLEASE SHUT IT

What about his mother, huh??

Who, despite the abuse he suffered from her, he still cared about??

Alina?? Oh boy, he was in love with her, obsessed and gave her so many chances. Something that he almost never does unless he's desperate.

So PRETTY PLEASE STOP TALKING

Meanwhile the Darkling in R&R, chapter 11:

"I have regretted many of the things I’ve had to do in this war."

So either Bardugo forgot that or Alina did or Aleksander changed his mind.

Or (my theory) Bardugo changed his perception in order for us to feel less sympathetic towards him.

Nevertheless, at least he has a spine and knows where he stands.

And Alina wanted the Darkling to say it not for him but for her. So she can feel okay. Unless Zoya is talking bullshit.

YES ALEKSANDER WHY DIDN'T YOU LIE SO OUR HEROINES COULD FEEL BETTER ABOUT THEMSELVES???!!

HOW DARE YOU?? 😠😠

He tries so hard to persuade her that the reality she lives in will not pay off anything. First off, this is not who she is or what she was meant to become and second, why does she teaches children stories that are lies? Feeding them false hope, repeating a circle that others had also been doing.

"Do you *really* believe..."

He wants to make sure that she stands by that. He just can't believe that this is her opinion. Her choice.

He just wants her to shine people!! 😭😍

"Those stories tell us the only people who matter are Kings and Queens. They're wrong"

Now tell me, Alina, which stories do YOU tell them? What do you teach them? That the world is as rosy as the orphanage they live in, where they only eat sugar and play the piano? Do you imagine what kind of reality check will those children get once they live in the real world?

And here, ladies and gentlemen, we see the Darkling having reached his limits and saying "Fuck this shit I'm out"

Congratulations, Aleksander! You survived that meeting with these buffoons and their groundless arguments!! 👏👏

Here, have this! 🏅

He saw his chance (Alina holding Mal's hand) and seized it. But I think he really meant all those questions he asked to Alina.

So, dear anon, what we have here is the villain making his effort (again) to be heard and understood. He tries to make them see his own point of view: Ravka is in serious danger and Zoya and Nikolai are in no position to protect it. He, on the other hand, can since he has more experience and balls to deal with these issues. The Darkling is no pussy. He truly makes hard decisions when he must, something that essentially all rulers must do when the situation calls for it.

But! We have the good guys silencing him and threating him (even having a little child to do the last one) in order for the reader to understand what he has left in his wake. How much pain he has caused.

Mal has gotten ✨magically✨ wiser and calmer and has actual wits to repel the Darkling's insults in order for us to get to like Mal and see how much he has changed.

Alina sounds like a brainwashed woman who is convinced that her lifestyle is great! That wanting something more (idk. a throne and changing the world maybe) is sinful and unfitting of her.

Aleksander is the only one who thinks otherwise for her, though. Thank God, I mean!

He sought Alina out both to reclaim his powers and because he just wanted to see her.

Personally, in this scene only the Darkling makes sense. The others either want to feel good about themselves by threating him or want to convince him that "Hey, we're the good ones here. We know what we're doing, okay?" and his own ways are shit.

Dear anon, if you have any other questions or want me to analyze any other Darklina scene from this book or duology that I didn't include, then just say so!

And please any others who want to add something about this scene, feel free to criticise in the comments! 💛💛