#god i hope it's not too cloudy

[thestarmaker]

rereading The Most Formative Book Of Your Childhood is something that can be so personal. Wendy Mass I owe you everything ⭐

[stemacademics]

small update

ok so um I got my number theory paper today, and the TA had cut marks for me because i left the answer at 66^2 and not 4356 (fermat's little theorem) 😔 I even wrote the full proof

my friend told me I should mail the TA about this, I got 14/20 and should be getting 17or18/20 😔

scores aside, number theory is so much fun, so much fun. the only good thing here is that I know the concepts well, and I fully knew the paper (still fucked it up, because I'm so frickin slow while writing and time). and it hurts worse because there's not enough proof that validates my knowledge. which in turn makes me question if i actually do have any.

I am, in general, a person who does well in concepts but screws up the exams (70% of the time) and I'm trying, I'm trying to get myself out of this "exam paniK" that I often spiral into, just minutes before the exam. I hope I change and grow; I hope, I hope.

[idkyetxoxo]

Aemond Targaryen - Shadow

Summary - In the bustling streets of King's Landing, a day of market escapades and a sweet surprise reveal the depth of Aemond's devotion to his wife. Their story defies the whispers and gossip of the realm, proving that true affection flourishes even in the heart of the coldest dragon.

Pairing - Aemond Targaryen x reader

Warnings - None

Word count - 2267

Masterlist for Aemond • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

"Aemond, must you always look so miserable?" I teased as we strolled through the bustling markets and lively stalls of King's Landing, my arm looped through his.

He sighed, pulling me closer to his side. "I simply do not understand why we must do this ourselves. If you require anything, you know I can have it brought to you."

"But I enjoy going out myself," I insisted, stopping in front of an elderly woman's stall laden with vibrant dress fabrics and delicate laces.

Aemond frowned, his gaze dropping to my small, but growing bump. "I wish you wouldn't indulge in such whims, especially in your condition," he murmured, resting his hand protectively over our unborn child.

"If you do not start acting like you love me, I swear it, I will start weeping this instant," I threatened with a playful glint in my eye, as I sifted through a roll of golden fabric.

He arched an eyebrow, his tone softening. "I don't need to act like I love you if I already do," he countered, his voice gentle yet firm.

I handed the fabric to the vendor, her gnarled hands accepting it with a nod, and I couldn't help but smile at his words, a warmth spreading through me like the sun breaking through a cloudy sky.

"Well then," I replied, my tone brightening, "I suppose we're in perfect agreement."

"I suppose it's the chaos of the market that unsettles me," Aemond admitted, "I'd rather be certain of your safety." 

I pouted, feeling a pang of guilt at his concern. Leaning in, I pressed a quick, reassuring kiss to his cheek, hoping to lighten his worry.

The vendor soon returned, carefully folding the fabric and handing it back to me. "How much?" I asked, reaching into the small coin pouch at my side.

"For you, Princess, it is free," she said with a sweet, almost maternal smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

I shook my head, a soft laugh escaping my lips. "Nonsense," I replied, pulling out five golden coins and placing them in her hand.

The woman's eyes widened, her expression a mixture of shock and overwhelming gratitude."Oh, thank you, Princess," she said, her voice thick with emotions. "May the gods bless you and the babe."

Aemond and I began walking again, the vibrant energy of the market humming around us. He  took the fabric from my hands and passed it to Ser Arryk, who followed us with a vigilant but unobtrusive presence.

"Princess, you've paid far too much for this," Ser Arryk pointed out, his tone respectful but puzzled.

I shrugged lightly, glancing up at Aemond as he interlaced his fingers with mine. "If we can afford it, why not?" I replied, feeling a sense of contentment in the small act of kindness.

Aemond squeezed my hand gently, his gaze softening further as he looked down at me. "And now, where to?" he asked, his voice carrying a rare note of playfulness.

I paused for a moment, considering the options laid out before us in the lively market. "Perhaps the baker's," I suggested a playful glint in my eye.

Aemond chuckled, his grip on my hand tightening affectionately. "Lead the way, my love. Wherever you wish to go, I shall follow," he promised, his voice laced with warmth.

We made our way through the bustling streets to the baker's stall, the air heavy with the intoxicating aroma of freshly baked bread and sweet pastries. 

The display was a feast for the senses, with golden loaves, delicate pastries, and intricately decorated cakes all vying for attention. I couldn't resist the temptation and began picking out various treats, my eyes gleaming with delight as I selected a mix of sweet and savoury goods.

As the baker carefully wrapped my selections, I stepped to the side, my attention caught by a small cluster of cats lounging lazily in the warm sun by the side of the stall. 

Without a second thought, I dropped to the ground, the soft fabric of my dress pooling around me as I reached out to pet them. The cats responded instantly, purring contentedly as they nuzzled into my touch. 

I laughed softly, completely lost in the simple joy of the moment as I caressed their soft fur, marvelling at how they responded to my affection.

"Princess, your dress!" my handmaiden gasped, her voice filled with concern as she rushed to my side, her eyes wide with worry. "You'll ruin it!"

I looked up at her with a lighthearted smile, still stroking the contented cats. "It's alright," I reassured her gently, "I have others."

My handmaiden hesitated, clearly torn between her duty to maintain my dignity and her understanding of my spontaneous nature. Finally, she sighed, a small smile tugging at her lips as she watched me continue to pet the cats.

Aemond stood a few paces away, his tall figure casting a shadow over us, but his expression was anything but dark. He watched me with a gaze so full of love and adoration that it seemed to soften his sharp features, a rare vulnerability shining in his eye. 

His usual stern demeanour was nowhere to be seen, instead, he looked utterly captivated, as if seeing me in this unguarded moment deepened his affection for me even further.

Finally, I tore myself away from the cats, rising from the ground with Aemond's hand extended to help me up. I dusted off my dress, smiling up at him as I did so. 

"Do you like cats?" Aemond asked, his voice curious, yet tinged with a softness that was rarely heard.

I looked at him incredulously, surprised that he didn't already know. "I love them," I confessed, a wistful smile playing on my lips. 

"When I was younger, I begged my mother to let me keep one, but she never allowed it. She was afraid they would distract me from my duties, that I'd spend more time with them than attending to my responsibilities."

Aemond's expression softened further, a thoughtful look crossing his face as we began our walk back to the Red Keep. 

"Mhm, I see," he replied, his tone nonchalant, but I could sense the wheels turning in his mind as the familiar walls of the Keep came into view.

As we reached the entrance, I turned to him, smiling softly. "I'm going to change, my love. I'll see you later," I said, leaning up to place a gentle kiss on his lips before stepping away with a little wave.

He watched me go, his gaze lingering as my handmaiden and I started chatting animatedly about the gown that would be made from the gold fabric we had just purchased. 

We made our way through the corridors, our laughter echoing faintly as we envisioned the intricate designs and fine details that would soon bring the fabric to life.

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───

Later that evening, I sat in our chambers, the room dimly lit by the warm glow of candles. My handmaiden was gently braiding my hair, her fingers deftly working as we prepared for bed. The tranquillity of the moment was soothing, the quiet hum of the Keep's night settling around us.

The door to our chambers opened softly, and I heard it close just as quietly. "Aemond?" I called out, not needing to turn around to know it was him.

"Yes, darling," he replied, his voice filled with a tender affection that made my heart flutter. 

My handmaiden finished the braid, tying it off with a delicate ribbon before giving me a small nod and excusing herself for the night.

Aemond strolled up behind me, his presence warm and comforting. He leaned down to place a quick, affectionate kiss in my hair, the familiar scent of him enveloping me as I turned to meet his gaze. 

His eye was alight with amusement, a rare smile playing on his lips.

"I have something for you," he said, his hands hidden behind his back, the hint of a playful grin on his face.

My curiosity piqued, I raised an eyebrow. "What is it?" I asked, but before he could answer, I heard a faint, delicate whimper. My eyes widened in surprise as he slowly revealed what he had been hiding.

In his hands was a small, grey, fluffy kitten, its big eyes blinking up at me innocently. 

"She's yours to keep," Aemond said, his voice softening even more as he watched my reaction.

I gasped in delight, immediately reaching out to take the little bundle of fluff from him. The kitten was light as a feather in my hands, her soft fur brushing against my fingers as I brought her up to my face, inhaling the sweet, milky scent that only a kitten possesses.

"She's adorable," I murmured, my heart swelling with affection as I gently rested the tiny creature on my bump. The kitten settled in comfortably, her small, contented purrs vibrating against me as I stroked her with tender fingers.

Aemond watched me with an expression of pure love, his eye reflecting the warmth and joy of the moment. 

"I knew you would love her," he said quietly, his voice filled with satisfaction as he saw how happy the kitten made me.

I looked up at him, my eyes shining with gratitude and love. "Thank you, Aemond. She's perfect," I whispered, leaning in to kiss him softly.

The kitten's purring grew louder as she nestled against me, already content in her new home. 

Aemond sat beside me, his arm wrapping around my shoulders as we both watched the kitten explore her new surroundings, her tiny paws padding across the bed.

"What will you name her?" he asked, his voice gentle as he turned his gaze from the kitten to me. I paused, a faint smile playing on my lips as I considered his question.

After a moment of thought, I turned to him, the smile widening as I made my decision.

"Vhagar," I declared, watching as Aemond's face fell. He glanced from the kitten back to me, his expression caught between disbelief and amusement.

"What? Both our pets can share the same name," I teased, nudging him playfully with my elbow.

Aemond shook his head, his lips twitching as he struggled to maintain a serious expression. 

"Vhagar is not a pet, she is a dragon, a fearsome one at that," he countered, his tone laced with a mixture of pride and incredulity. "And that little creature right there is nowhere near as terrifying as her," he added, pointing at the kitten.

As if on cue, the kitten leapt up, her tiny claws latching onto his finger with surprising determination. Aemond blinked, momentarily taken aback, and I couldn't help but laugh at the sight.

"Hey, don't talk about her like that," I said, gently prying the kitten from his finger and placing her back on my bump, where she settled down with a contented meow. 

I stroked her soft fur, feeling her tiny heartbeat against me, a protective instinct rising within me.

Aemond raised an eyebrow, a smile finally breaking through his composed facade. 

"What about Shadow?" he suggested, his voice softening as he watched me cradle the kitten.

I considered the name for a moment, glancing down at the little ball of fluff that was now dozing peacefully on my lap. 

"Shadow," I repeated, testing the name on my tongue. It felt right, a fitting name for a creature who was small and quiet, yet already held a special place in my heart.

"I like it," I decided, looking back up at Aemond with a smile. "Shadow it is."

Aemond's eye softened, the corners of his mouth lifting in a tender smile as he leaned in to kiss my forehead. "Shadow it is," he echoed, his voice a low murmur, filled with affection.

Aemond's kisses trailed down my neck, each one sending a shiver of warmth through me as he gently pushed my body back onto the bed. His intentions were clear, the familiar hunger in his touch unmistakable. But just as his lips grazed my collarbone, I placed a hand on his chest, gently pushing him back.

"Not in front of Shadow," I whispered, nodding toward the tiny kitten, her soft purring barely audible.

Aemond paused, his lips hovering just inches from my skin, his expression shifting from passionate to utterly bewildered. He pulled back slightly, his eye widening in disbelief as he looked from me to the kitten and back again. 

The look on his face was a perfect mix of surprise and incredulity as if he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing.

I bit my lip, trying to suppress a giggle at his reaction. The absurdity of the situation was almost too much to bear, but I couldn't help but find it endearing. 

Aemond let out a dramatic huff, clearly resigned to the whims of our tiny observer. He gently lifted the kitten placing her carefully on the floor beside us.

He then turned his attention back to me, he reached out, his hands deftly guiding me as he manoeuvred our positions. With a swift, yet gentle motion, he pulled me on top of him, arranging us comfortably as he settled back onto the bed.

"There," he said with a note of triumph in his voice, his eye glinting with a mix of amusement and affection. "Now Shadow isn't watching."

After a thoughtful pause, I nodded in agreement, a smile spreading across my face. "You're right," I replied, my tone light and teasing.

With that, I leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Aemond's lips. The kiss was tender and filled with affection, a sweet affirmation of our connection. 

As our lips met, I felt the warmth of his love enveloping me, his arms encircling me as if to hold me in that perfect moment forever.

A/n -Welcome back Margaery Tyrell x

[annwrites]

sons & daughters. part one.

— pairing: cregan stark x fem!reader

— type: part of a series

— summary: when your queen-mother sends your twin brother, jace, to treat with cregan stark, you make a last-minute decision to accompany him north, so as to see the beautiful lands, and put distance between you and the brewing war with the greens; to have a moment of peace.

cregan, growing tired of being harried at every turn by advisors to marry the head-strong alysanne blackwood, and receiving countless marriage proposals from numerous northern lords for their daughters, desperately seeks an end to such matters.

and then he meets you.

— tw: eating

— word count: 2,241

— a/n: i planned for this to just be 1 long post, but the more i write & plot, the more i have come to realize it'll be way too long for that. so, thus, i am breaking it into parts.

title of the fic & the fic itself are both inspired by the song of the same name.

watching/listening to winterfell ambience while writing this was a mood.

He is struck speechless by the sight of you. 

You stare up at the cloudy sky above, as fluffy white snowflakes drift down, landing softly in your long auburn curls, which tumble about your shoulders and down your back in waves, as well as upon your comely face, your full pink lips. You blink with long lashes, lowering your chin as you turn to greet him—your brown eyes looking tenderly into his own of blue. 

Your twin brother he had been anticipating—had prepared for the arrival of. You, however, have now taken him completely by surprise. In every way.

He gathers himself then, standing tall—back straight—as he steps forward to greet your older brother by just two minutes, Jacaerys. 

You stand silently to the side as the lord bids him welcome to Winterfell—ensuring him that he is most pleased by his presence—and that they have much to discuss in due time, once he is properly settled. 

He then turns to you, and you give him a shy smile, suddenly unsure of yourself—always a familiar feeling to you when it comes to strangers. Your septa’s lessons had done little to ever shake you of such inhibitions. 

He bows his head, his eyes never leaving you. “My Princess,” he says quietly, calmly, in an entirely Northern accent; a sound fairly unfamiliar to your ears. 

“Lord Stark,” you address him in return. “Thank you for having us.”

He studies you for a moment. “You, Princess, I had not expected, I’m afraid. I will have the servants ready chambers for you at once, to your satisfaction.”

You blanch. Had…had the raven your mother sent not stated you were to accompany Jace? It had been a bit of a last-minute decision, per you, after all...

You’d just wanted so dearly to see the wondrous beauty of the North. So much so, that you’d practically had to beg your Queen mother to allow you to fly with him here. She’d been hesitant—always overly-protective of you, her only daughter in all the world—until she had finally relented. Even if you had believed it to be reluctantly. 

You had been sure she would’ve sent a second raven informing the young lord of your accompaniment to your brother, but perhaps not. Or, perhaps, the poor creature had simply gotten lost on the way in. You hope if that is the case, that it is alright.

“Oh, I…” You grasp for words. Oh Gods, now he was going to think you uncouth—to arrive entirely unannounced, leaving his people scrambling to make preparations for your comfort during your unplanned stay. You have half-a-mind to fall to your knees and start apologizing profusely, but instead keep yourself together. 

Finally, you clasp your hands nervously under your thin cloak—you had not been prepared when it came to the biting winds of the North, especially on dragonback, in high altitude. You’d clung to Jace, shaking violently the entire way in, wishing you’d bundled up until you could barely walk, instead of only donning a dress, tights, a cloak, and boots. Stupid. 

“I apologize for my unexpected presence, My Lord. It…it had been a late decision, per me, to come along as well. I had been sure my mother—the Queen, that is—would write to you of it—” 

It was going to take some time to so much as think of her as such: the Queen. To you, she was always just mama, or, rather, now, mother—a new title you’d begun using only a year or two ago to seem more mature. She had seemed saddened at the time by it, somehow.

He shakes his head. “Do not trouble yourself, Princess. We are glad to have you, rest assured.”

He offers you his arm then, and you flush at the kind gesture, before gently taking it, walking alongside him—Jace on his left—and into the beautiful stone castle Lord Cregan calls home.

The servants rush to properly ready a room befitting a Princess, even if you had tried to assure them there was no need, until Cregan had said that he would only have the best lodgings provided for his royal guests.

So, you had been given a room next to his own, which he assured you—due to the hot water that runs through the piping in the walls, which comes from the natural hot spring located under the castle—would be plenty warm. But, if you required further comfort, you had plenty of thicket blankets and fluffy pillows piled upon your large, canopied bed by the servants. 

He’d left you then—but not before giving you a brief, albeit lingering look—so you could settle in, telling you that he was right next door if you needed something—anything.

You had been grateful to the servants for unpacking your things—filling the dresser and wardrobe provided—for you were plenty weary from your long and stressful journey. In truth, all you wanted was a steaming hot bath, a change into a soft gown, a filling dinner, and then a long rest.

You slip off your boots, placing them before the roaring fire at the front of your room—which is piled high with logs—and pad over to the bedroom door, slowly opening it and glancing to your left, down the hall, hoping to spot someone to request plenty of hot water to fill your tub.

“Something you need, Princess?”

You jump, heart hammering in your chest, which you then come to gently rest your hand over before turning to the right, greeted by Lord Stark watching you, one hand hanging limply by his side, the other’s wrist resting upon the pommel of his sword. 

His lip twitches. “Forgive me, I did not mean to take you by surprise.”

You shake your head. “It’s alright. I was just looking for a servant so I might have my tub filled. I’m afraid I nearly turned into an icicle on the way here.”

He grins. “That would have been most unfortunate.”

He then glances down the hall. “Alia,” he calls to a young maid around your same age.

She turns to the both of you. 

“Please fetch plenty of hot water for our guests, so they may each bathe after their long journey.”

She nods, scurrying away.

He turns back to you. “I shall leave you to it, then. To thaw,” he states, lip twitching.

“Thank you.” You smile, going to close the door, until he speaks again. 

“Will you sup with us? Prince Jacaerys and I have much to discuss, but you will be plenty welcome to join.” He is hopeful that you will agree.

You shift from one foot to the other. In truth, the last thing you want is to squeeze yourself into a gown and have pins shoved uncomfortably into your hair while you force your eyes to stay open over your…whatever it is that they have in the North for dinner. A bowl of stew with a side of bread sounds nice.

You can’t be rude, however. Jace and you—even if they have already pledged their loyalty—need to do whatever it takes to have the full might of the Northern realm backing your mother’s claim to the throne. 

“I would like that very much.”

He nods with a smile. “I will see you in an hour, then?”

You nod in return, closing the door.

You nearly drift off in the large wooden tub. The water had been steaming—an inviting sight—which had had you stepping into it near-instantly, sinking down, your muscles finally relaxing after you'd spent so long being in-flight. 

You’d washed thoroughly, scrubbing every inch of your tired body, before simply sitting and soaking, your heavy lids eventually drooping before you had shaken yourself back awake, refusing to die by drowning in a bathtub. 

You’d reluctantly stepped out then, drying yourself, then dressing on your own. You did not wish for help tonight. The less company the better with how tired you feel. 

You slip on a simple, soft blue gown, which has sheer, loose material for the arms and sways around your feet, which you then slide into a pair of slippers. You opt for simply brushing out your damp curls, leaving your hair loose and free of any extravagances for tonight.

You only wear a long silver necklace, which has a small charm of the symbol of House Targaryen hanging from it as any form of extra detail to your person this evening. You remember your septa once telling you that Northerners are a rather simple people, opting for the comforts of home and family and their beloved kingdom over lavishness.

You had admired that. 

Finally, you emerge from your room, nervously making your way downstairs, following the sound of soft music playing from the Great Hall, leading you to your host for the night—the next few, in fact.

They indeed were serving stew. As well as roast chicken, hard bread, cooked vegetables, and more. 

You take your time with your dinner, listening silently as Lord Cregan and your twin talk about their newly-formed alliance; telling stories of his and your forebears. Every now and again, you smile or nod idly if one of them glances in your direction—Cregan doing it far more often than Jace, which you think quite kind of him; trying to keep you involved in the conversation, even if all you can think of is sleep.

Eventually, you feel a large foot brush against your own under the table, and it’s only then that you notice you had closed your eyes, and were currently dozing off over a bowl of fresh berries and tarts.

They slowly open, feeling heavy as anvils as you look to Lord Stark, flushing in shame at your poor manners.

He smiles softly. “You are exhausted, Princess. Please, allow me to escort you back to your chambers.”

You cover your mouth with your hand, yawning tiredly. “Forgive me, My Lord.” You stand then. “Thank you, but I will be f—”

He stands as well then, coming round to you before you can finish telling him that he should stay and keep company with your brother instead; you do not wish to interrupt. But, perhaps him leading you back is for the best when you realize that you’re not entirely sure which way your room had been now. In your fatigued state, you were liable to wander into anyone’s bedchamber tonight.

What a nightmare that would be.

You take his arm then, wrapping both of yours around his own, walking silently beside him as he leads you back upstairs. 

It’s only once you are standing before your door, which he opens for you, that you realize you had laid your head against his shoulder at some point. Gods, what he must think about your unladylike conduct tonight.

He is regretful when you lift it, however.

“Your room, Princess,” he says to you, quietly.

You blink up at him with tired eyes, your cheeks flushed, a small smile on your lips at his kindness. You always did feel far more affectionate when sleepy.

“Thank you, Lord Cregan, for your hospitality.” You pause for only a moment before stepping closer, looking up at him. 

He leans down toward you, interested in whatever is about to transpire.

“You may call me by my given name, if you like. ‘Princess’ is so formal. I hate it, actually.”

He’s taken aback by your frankness. Not off-put, however. Just pleasantly surprised. 

“Whatever you wish, My Prin—” He grins. “Pardons. Y/N.”

You nod once, smiling. “Much better.”

He likes you like this far better than the you from earlier, which had been clearly full of nerves and hesitancy—uncertainty of yourself. He wishes for you to feel comfortable here—at-home. Even if your stay will, most like, be rather curt. He wishes otherwise, for reasons he cannot yet explain.

You turn to head into your room, until he reaches out, taking your hand gently within his own.

You turn back to him, and he stills at his sudden act of forwardness. Gods, what was he thinking, touching you like that? 

You do not pull away, however.

“Yes?” You ask softly, still smiling at him.

He leans down, brushing a kiss over the back of your hand before straightening once more. “I bid you goodnight, Y/N. I will see you on the morrow.”

You flush, then squeeze his hand in return—you have half-a-mind to hug him; you would if he were one of your brothers; Lucerys always does whine whenever you give him a big kiss on the cheek before bed—before finally slipping your palm from his grasp, gently shutting your door behind you.

“Gods be good, what are you doing, man?” Cregan whispers to himself before finally stepping away from your room, heading back down to keep company with your twin for the rest of the evening in an attempt to distract himself from thoughts of tangling his fingers in long auburn curls and staring into brown eyes over candlelight. 

Meanwhile, you step out of your shoes, kicking them to the side, then slip out of your dress, leaving only your shift on as you slip beneath clean blankets that smell of pine and jasmine, quickly drifting into a dreamless sleep as the fire in your hearth softly crackles against the silent night.

[tetsumie]

"𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐎 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘" 𝐏𝐓 𝟐

read part 1 here!

pairing: kuroo x reader & bokuto x reader

genre: hurt/comfort

content: the boys call you clingy but they don’t mean it

a/n: hello ahhh it's been awhile since i've posted but i'm trying to get back into the habit of writing again! someone in my inbox had requested me to add bokuto to this list so i tried my best but i hope you all enjoyed this and feel free to stop by my inbox to leave a comment, tell me your thoughts, or just lmk how it's going hehe :,)

kuroo tetsuro

"i'm home," a mumble echoed out into the empty living room.

at the sound of the door opening, you make your way out of your shared bedroom to greet your overworked boyfriend, kuroo.

"hi baby," you replied with a tired smile on your features.

the door closes and kuroo slides off his slacks, loosens his tie, runs his fingers through his hair, and sighs in exhaustion.

"hey."

"have you eaten dinner yet?" you start to ramble. " i can warm up dinner and we could maybe share a meal together?"

"we haven't spent much time together in a while so you know.. i was just thinking... we could do something small together?"

you continue to ramble about how you spent all evening trying a new recipe you saw on tiktok that really fascinated you.

but kuroo is not having it.

all he wants to do is just go to bed and forget the past couple shitty days he's had at work. today, especially, was stressful considering how nothing had gone his way and the higher ups just wouldn’t stop giving him a hard time.

he kept his frustration, tiredness, anger all bottled up for the past couple days and they were all about to boil out.

on top of that, your constant rambling isn't helping. you keep talking and talking and talking and his mind is beginning to get cloudy and his anger is about to boil over.

his voice rises and he finally speaks, "god y/n.. can you just shut the fuck up and stop being all up in my space? you're so fucking clingy just leave me alone."

oh.

you mouth shuts up mid sentence and you're looking down at your feet, too embarrassed to even look him in the eye after hearing his true feelings.

"sorry, i just wanted to spend some time and talk and relax with you..." your voice goes quiet. "you've been out really late for the past couple days so i was just hoping-"

however, kuroo's outburst isn't over yet. if anything, your little comment voicing your concerns seems to have make him a bit more upset.

"yeah, i've been out late because of how suffocating it is here at home with you. god, it's like you just can't take a fucking hint! just leave me the fuck alone!" he says and your eyes go a bit glassy.

"r-right," you say as you're turning around so he doesn't see the tears forming in your eyes. "sorry, i'll respect your wishes and give you your space."

seeing your hunched figure walking away brought him back to his senses.

what the fuck did i just say to them? oh my god.

"y/n wait i'm sorry-" he begins but is cut off.

"kuroo, i think you've said enough tonight."

the sound of his last name coming out of your mouth leaves a bitter taste in his mouth and he knows he's fucked up immensely. the door to the bedroom closes, indicating that you're clocking out for the night and you can't deal with this conversation any bit longer.

kuroo sits himself on the couch with his head in his hands, shaking his head.

what the hell did i just say to them? it's not even their fault... i just... how the hell do i make it up to them?

kuroo walks to the door and places three subtle knocks on the door, begging for permission to enter. he's greeted with no acknowledgement or response.

he turns the knob and to his surprise it opens. there, he sees you fast alseep in your comforter in a fetal-like position. he goes into the closet, changes into his pajamas, and immediately climbs into bed.

he brings you close to his side of the bed, specifically putting your head on his chest. he begins to stroke your hair and places gentle kisses on your head, mumbling soft "i'm sorry's" and "i love you's."

he's praying to whatever deity out there that this would blow over by tomorrow morning or something.

but kuroo wakes up the next morning to his worst nightmare: you're not in bed with him. he feels his blood run cold and he's running the worst case scenarios in his head.

he rushes out of the bedroom to see that you're nowhere in the apartment. he sees a bright colored post-it note stuck on to the fridge with a note scribbled in your handwriting.

"i'm staying at a friend's house for the next couple of days. i just need time to think for a bit. there's some leftovers from last night in the fridge so make sure you eat those.

love u always, y/n"

kuroo's hands shake as he's holding your post-it note.

of course, they'd leave. i treated them like shit and hurt them so badly of course they want to leave. but even after everything, they still love me… i don’t deserve them.

kuroo begins to spiral and the next couple of days aren't any easy for him.

every attempt at texting or calling you has lead to no response. he goes to sleep without you next to him, holding back tears every time. every morning without fail, he pats the vacancy next to him in hopes that you'll be there but to his demise, every time, you're not. work feels even more lethargic than usual. before, he used to look forward to coming home to you but now you're not even at home so what's the point in even trying. counting down the hours until he gets to leave his cubicle has become futile.

i just really want them back. please come back home.

but when he comes home from a pain achingly long day of work, he doesn't find you and his mood plummets even more.

that is until one day, kuroo is able to leave work early where he comes home and hears the familiar noise of the coffee maker brewing. his eyes shoot up from his slacks to look over at the kitchen where he sees you in all your beauty, fidgeting with the knobs on the coffee machine. your eyes both lock and you immediately look away.

kuroo thought you were gone for good. and the fact that you were only a couple feet away from him made his heart swell and his eyes water. there's so much to say but his not a single word is escaping his mouth.

"you want some coffee? i just started a new batch," you finally say to fill up the silence of the room.

he gulps, "sure yeah."

you grab a coffee cup and pour him a fresh cup of coffee and slide it to him across the kitchen counter, avoiding getting too close to him.

too nervous to even touch his drink, he begins to address the elephant in the room, "y/n, i'm so sorry for what i said that night. i had no right to speak to you in the manner."

"it's okay," you say in a curt manner. "i get it."

he shakes his head and tries to get closer to you to convey his feelings but is stopped when he sees you take a step back. his heart cracks.

"no it's not okay sweetheart. i've been so busy with work and i just got super overwhelmed with everything and-"

"kuroo, you know you don't have to make any excuses right?" you interrupt his train of thought.

he's confused now. "excuses? y/n what are you even talking about- "

"just end it with me already... i know you want to," you say, looking down at the fresh cup of coffee in your hands. "you made that very clear."

his world freezes.

the world becomes completely silent.

his mouth is slightly open, caught off guard. he doesn't know what to say.

however, you interpret his silence as him putting down the excuses finally and admitting that he doesn't want to put effort into this relationship with you anymore.

hell, he doesn’t even want this relationship with you anymore.

"right, if you won't i will so it's easier for the both of us. i think we should-"

"don't you dare finish that fucking sentence," he moves close to you all of a sudden and his familiar lingering cheap cologne smell takes up your senses. the gears begin to click in his head before you can respond to him.

kuroo's arms envelop you in his embrace. "i want you. only you. i'm sorry i made you think otherwise."

the tears you've been holding back for the past couple minutes standing in front of him overflow and you feel like the world is about to end.

you push kuroo off you slightly. "i know you've been busy with work and i just wanted to spend some time with you. i never meant to come off as clingy but clearly you thought so so-"

"i'm just a complete douche,” he interrupts. “you were trying to help me out and make me feel better and i was so caught up with work, i couldn't appreciate that."

"i never want to ever make you feel that way again. you never deserved to hear any of that from me and everything i said couldn't be far from the truth. your presence has never been a bother and if anything, coming home to you is the best part of my day.”

“i shouldn't have let my emotions get the best of me and i'm so sorry that it did and that i hurt you in the process. i hate that i’m the reason behind your tears and i’ll do everything to make it up to you to show you how much i love you."

the tears from your eyes continue to flow and he delicately wipes every single one from your eyes kissing your cheek every time without fail.

"are you sure you don’t find me suffocating? you said that you hated being home with me though so i just thought-" you start to say.

"i will spend my entire life reassuring you that it isn’t true. i promise you are never suffocating me and your presence never fails to make me feel better on a shitty day. i will do anything to regain your trust and faith in me,” he adamantly speaks with his hands in yours.

hearing his determined resolve, the tears flow even more.

"i love you so much, tetsu."

"i love you too baby," he smiles and delicately kisses your lips. "now let's go out. how do you feel about going out for dinner? i’ve got a lot of making up to you to do."

"i'll never say no to that."

bokuto koutaro

the msby jackals lost 2-0 sets and the entire team was taking the loss hard but no one as hard as bokuto.

"bokuto-san, what do you think went wrong today's game?" an interviewer asks with his notepad out, scribbling notes.

"er, uh, well, today was just a rough day and i had a tough time keeping up with the opponent's plays today... it just was not a good day."

"i have one more question," the interviewer asks.

"go ahead," he gruffs out.

"you are known for your infamous line shots especially during deciding moments of the game. you missed multiple of these shots during today's game. were you distracted during this game? is it because of your new relationship status or were-"

bokuto is now riled up. who the hell does this interviewer think he is to corner me and bring in my personal life???

"i'm leaving, fuck this shit," he spits out, trying his best to maintain his composure.

in frustration, bokuto storms out of the press conference room, slamming the double doors, heading towards the locker room to grab his stuff but is stopped by you, running after him.

"kou! wait up!" you say from a distance and he stops in his tracks to look at you. he's still internally raging from the provocative behavior of that interviewer and he feels like he just might lose it.

"what do you want," he says in an aggressive manner that catches you off guard.

you’re aware of the recent loss of the msby jackals. you know that's probably taking a toll on his confidence as a player so you're trying to be as supportive as you can.

"you wanna come back to my place? i was thinking we could watch that one disney movie you like and we could bake something together too? what do you think?"

"why do you always want to fucking hang out?" he says in the lowest tone of voice you've ever heard from him.

it sends shivers down your spine.

"huh?" you're just confused at this point.

"why are you so fucking clingy all the time? it's always 'kou come over!' or 'kou let's watch a movie!' or 'kou let's take a nap together!' like don't you fucking get that i have a genuine career that i'm working really hard to be successful in?"

so that's what he thinks of me.

"i know you want to be a pro volleyball player and i want to support you the entire way. i was just trying to be there for you and help you relax..." you trail. "i get today was really rough for you.."

"that's the thing you don't get it, y/n!" he says exasperatedly. "if you did want to be supportive for me and my career, then you would stop being so all up on me and give my space!"

he walks into the locker room, slamming the door, shaking you up.

in defeat, you begin to leave the stadium with tears brimming your eyes. as you get in your car, you put your head on the steering wheel and suddenly, the tears start to stream out.

"i'll give him his space. i'll just stop everything. i'm nothing of importance to him or his life so it's best if i just stop." you convince yourself.

bokuto, on the other hand, is in the locker room, holding back tears of frustration as he punched one of the lockers.

fuck, what am i even doing right now...

"bokuto-san! let's head out for the night," shoyo's voice can be heard before he can be seen in the locker room. "we're gonna go get drinks and dinner at that new barbecue place that opened up."

he looks up from the bench and smiles at shoyo along with the rest of his teammates that are nodding along in support.

"yeah, sure. fine with me," kou responds with a small smile on his face.

as bokuto and the rest of the jackals are out and about, he keeps looking at his phone in hopes of getting a message or something from you but you're completely radio silent after the spat between the two of you.

he knows you both had a disagreement but he thought you knew that he was just frustrated and upset with the game. he didn't think it was a reason to just go silent on him.

he sends a text to test the waters.

kou <3: babe, we're good right?

he puts his phone down and engages back in the dinner with the rest of the jackals.

an hour has passed yet still no response. it's starting to make him fidgety so he decides to spam you.

kou <3: hello?

kou <3: baby wya???

kou <3: where is the loml at :((

kou <3: BABYYYYYYY

kou <3: POOKIE PLS TXT ME BACK :(((

y/n is typing...

y/n: sry i was getting ready for bed.

you sounded distant. you clearly were upset but was it still about the argument? c'mon you knew he didn't mean what he said... right?

kou <3: ITS OKAY BABY! can i come over? i wanna spend the night with u :,)

kou <3: i miss you

y/n: maybe not tonight... i think it's best if we're by ourselves for a bit

bokuto's hair significantly drooped down, seeing as how he got rejected to hang out with you for the night.

as bokuto heads over to his apartment for the night, he stares at the bedroom ceiling with his thoughts. he misses laying next to his baby. that's when he starts to replay everything that went down between the two of you.

he genuinely can't figure out what went wrong.

he prays that this whole thing will just blow over by tomorrow because he misses you incredibly and just wants to spend time with you.

unfortunately to his demise, you kept shutting down all of kou's efforts to come over. you refused to pick up his calls, resorting to half assed texts.

this whole argument was festering and bokuto had to fix it immediately.

you, however, want nothing more than to spend time with your boyfriend but his words kept running through your mind on loop. anytime you would be sitting alone with yourself, his words kept playing themselves on loop in your brain, making you overthink the post couple months you’ve spent together.

has he always thought of me as clingy? have i always been a bother to him? have i always been super annoying in his eyes?

that was until you heard a knock on the door.

you open the door and see kou standing there in a hoodie and a pair of khakis with a large bouquet of assorted flowers in his hands. his eyes lock with yours while yours widen in surprise.

"k-kou! what are you doing here?" you say in surprise.

"what, i can't see my partnet now?" he retorts lightheartedly. "let me in."

too stunned to even reject him, your hand inherently finds its way to the knob, widening the door so bokuto can fit through into your apartment.

he tries to hand you the flowers but you stand there, hands refusing to move from their sides. "c'mon babe, i got them for you! do you not like them? man, i knew i should've gotten the roses instead."

"no no! thank you so much kou.. i'm just surprised that you even got this for me..." you trail off looking away from him.

he sets the flowers on the kitchen counter and tilts his head in confusion. "what do you mean, y/n?"

"listen, i know you don't really like spending time with me and that you feel obligated to but honestly, we really don't have to hang out or anything like that," you begin to say. "i know i can be a lot sometimes and i'm really working on trying to give you space."

that's when it all clicks in his head for him.

"baby, is this about what i said that day in the gym?" he questions.

you turn away, refusing to even look him in the eye because you know the moment your eyes lock with his, the tears will start streaming down your face.

"baby, no, please," he goes over to you to give you the warmest yet tightest hug possible. "i’m also a very clingy person so i should've known how much my words must have hurt you. i've been so stupid to not see how badly my words must have impacted you, my love. i'm so so sorry for saying and acting the way i did. it's unexcusable."

"no kou it's fine i just-" you say but are interrupted midsentence.

"no, y/n it's not," he says, tears brimming his eyes ever since coming to terms with how hurt you must've been feeling this entire time. "i'll do anything to get your forgiveness and for us to just... be close again. i'll do anything, i mean it."

tears are streaming down both your faces and you can't help but form a wobbly smile on your lips. "pinky promise?"

"pinky promise," kou says as he locks pinkies with you and kisses the top of your head. "now let's cuddle because i've missed being near the love of my life."

© tetsumie 2024 all rights reserved 

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

hii can you write about bale!bruce being an ass guy and just constantly grabbing and squeezing your ass whenever you’re on his lap and especially during sex, he would be doing all that and slapping it a lot? thank you sm i hope this isn’t too weird to ask!! 😭🫶

That's not too weird at all!! 🩷

This isn't exactly what you asked for, but the horny part of my brain took over, and there was no stopping it lol

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Sweet as a Peach 🍑

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Okay, but imagine this...

You're laying on your bed, turned on your stomach while reading a book or looking through your phone. It's late already, only the faint glow of the lamp on your bedside table illuminating the room.

Your legs are bare, as your usual sleep attire consisted of a top of some sort short and a pair of panties. Sleep is tugging at your limbs, your eyelids begin to droop, and your head feels heavy.

In comes Bruce, your husband, dressed in a pair of pajama pants and, fortunately for you, no shirt. He takes a moment to admire your form.

The curve of your back and your shoulders, your hips that look so soft and comfortable to grab and your legs, moving around a bit as you adjust your position.

And then, his favorite part. Your ass that looks like it was crafted by the gods. At least in his eyes. It's so perfect. He can't find a single flaw. It fades into your thighs so nicely, and the shimmering stretch marks accentuate its form even better.

Next thing he knows, he's staring at your behind with dilated pupils and a slack jaw. He's itching to take a handful, wanting to feel the supple flesh spill between his fingers. Bruce steps closer, the mattress dipping under his weight.

The tips of his fingers ghost over the curve of your ass, making a shiver run up your spine. You giggle, knowing exactly what's about to happen. As ridiculous as it sounds, Bruce was almost hypnotized, completely focused on your rear. His feather light touches turn into a gentle kneading of the fat, to digging his hands into the flesh.

You wiggle your hips from side to side with a cheeky smile, watching as he shot you a look before his lips were pressed to the backs of your thighs, trailing sloppy kisses up your leg. The soft hum that falls from your lips turns into a gasp when Bruce nips at your cheek, soothing it with a soft kiss.

He sucks hickeys and gently bites at your ass and thighs, covering them in various blooming shades of purple and blue. You could swear he spent hours worshipping your behind to his heart's content.

He hums against your skin, running his tongue up the inside of your thigh, nudging your legs to open wider. Bruce gently rubs his hands over the many marks, leaning forward to press a kiss to your shoulder before he settles back into his favorite place.

He noses the gusset of your underwear, making you instinctively arch your back, which in turn makes a wicked grin spread over his face.

He ended up eating you out until the sun rose, reveling in the beautiful sounds you made and how your body reacted to his tongue running along the seam of your cunt.

Whenever your hips would flinch away from his mouth, he'd deliver firm spanks to your ass, scolding you for interrupting his meal. He's obsessed. Your thighs clenched around his head, his cheek resting agaisnt your rear as he lazily licked and flicked his tongue over your clit.

He made you come undone so many times that you had to fend him off with a stick by the end.

Bruce loves to use your ass as a pillow. He'll collapse on top of you and use your cheeks as cloudy head support while he knocks out for a good few hours. Mainly after patrol.

Because where you see your ass, Bruce sees two perfectly good clouds to take a nap on.

<3

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I hope it was satisfactory nonetheless!!

《tag list》: @allysunny @arkhamknightscxnt @gaozorous-rex-blog @hellonheels-x

(Lmk if you want to be added! Currently writing for Bale!Bruce, Jason Todd and Dick Grayson!)

[batsvnte]

𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 — You could only stifle a small fit of laughter as you read the text on your screen. In front of you was another one of the small cats that were roaming about this section of the space station. After the hell you went through to get here, it was an temporary safe spot before you had to leave it for the time being. An large room filled with different kinds of creatures that would be lounging around the place, making small talk with one another or sleeping. You lowered the phone to see another cat that was very different from the rest.

This one in particular that you found that was growing an attachment towards you. This time, it’s fur was an a dark grey like a cloudy sky before it turns into rain. The eyes were full of life unlike the other one, and it had an red mark under its right eye. There was also a bit of an constellation on its tail that you were still trying to identity.

The little one stays somewhere in your vicinity. Not to far but not to close. It likes to feel your presence no matter what you were doing, and on some occasions you would always find it waiting outside the door patiently sitting there for you. It was adorable, you would think as it trails after you. Whenever you turn your attention over to check on how it was doing, it always had its eyes on you. Shimmering lightly as those big eyes stared up at you wondering what you were gonna do next. Having ideas of going to the archives to record things that either of you found.

A small flicker of movement caught your attention one day as you were down in the research section. Bringing your attention over to find Sesame (the ‘dead inside’ cat that you showed to March when you were wandering about the space station that she proudly named) peeking around the corner. It was a routine at this point. Sesame would stare you down from across the hallway/room, then it would make its way over to you to practically cling to your side and follow you around.

Hence why you would have to keep a close eye on Sesame and Rice Dumpling whenever they are around each other. You could tell they were trying to be on their best behavior with you around, but you could hear the small bits of bickering between the two of them. It wasn’t all too serious at best. It was small things but you paid attention to what they were saying.

“Move… I wanna sleep there”

“You ate all of the food..”

“There’s three of us.. move over..”

And now here you were standing in front of Sesame who placed itself onto an high counter. There was no change in those eyes of the little critter, but by its body language you could tell that it wanted to be in your arms.

“You have to be nicer to the other critters, especially Rice Dumpling”

It only stares at you. No movement, no sound. Like your words were just background noise for it to listen to mindlessly. You still kept talking, hoping to get Sesame to make sense of what it was doing. After all it was chasing down Rice Dumpling during the middle of an task and almost trapped it in a corner.

To much of your surprise, a critter jumps up to the edge of the counter. Words coming to an complete stop as you looked towards the new critter that lazily stretched it limbs. It was bigger than the rest, even as big as Sesame. Though it’s pure white fluffy fur would make it seem like Sesame was a baby compared to it. A red ribbon that was tied into an little bow was on the near end of its tail.

“Hi there! Where’d you come from?”

You reached out to the critter, which in response presses its head against the palm of your hand. Eager to let you pet it and give it attention. The moment didn’t last as long as either of you hoped. It an few quick seconds, Sesame nudged against the fluffy critter before fully pushing it off the counter.

“Oh my god Sesame!”

Sesame didn’t bother to check on the critter it just pushed off. It only looks to you before now jumping down from the counter and taking its leave as if it didn’t try to commit an voluntary crime.

[barcaatthemoon]

room service || kerstin casparij x reader ||

you and kerstin celebrate a win during an away game.

you weren't completely sure how you had pulled it off, but after a lot of bargaining with your teammates, you managed to get a room with kerstin. it was for moments like this, when kerstin had you pressed against door as she kissed you that you were the most grateful for the privacy. the post-match adrenaline was running so high that you didn't think either of you would ever come down.

"you scored a good header, the equalizer. i think that you deserve something special for that," kerstin told you. there were a lot of different things that you knew kerstin liked doing as rewards. you weren't sure what exactly you were hoping for. the options were almost too overwhelming.

"a-and what exactly did you have in mind?"

kerstin dropped down onto her knees in front of you and grabbed onto the waistband of your shorts. your breath hitched as her fingers curled before yanking them down your legs. it was quick, and you were blushing at how quickly she had left you bare and on display. her hands stayed steadily at your hips, not moving an inch even as you wriggled with anticipation.

"i was thinking-," kerstin's thumbs began to rub back and forth over your hip bones, "-that you deserved a little head. after that, we'll see what kind of mood you're in. does that sound good to you baby?"

"yes," you answered her. kerstin didn't need any more confirmation to dive right in between your thighs. she kept your legs spread wide so that you were completely on display for her. kerstin's eyes were squeezed shut as she hungrily lapped at your cunt.

kerstin held onto you tightly, even before she felt your knees buckle beneath you. she was fully prepared to completely support you if it meant that she didn't have to leave her spot between your legs. kerstin was eating you out like her life depended on it. you swore that she hadn't kept you in this position for very long when you felt the coil deep in your stomach begin to tighten as you rapidly approached your climax.

"k, i'm gonna cum. i'm gonna fucking cum," you warned. kerstin didn't make any moves other than placing your hand in her hair to direct her head. it was a subtle reminder that since this was your reward, if you wanted more, kerstin was more than happy to do that for you. "that's it babe, right fucking there. oh my god, kerstin please!"

your voice grew louder and louder with no regard for anything that could have been going on around you. kerstin loved it when you let go like that. she kept slowly lapping at you until you pushed away and made your way towards the bed. you were about to lay down when kerstin intercepted you.

"not there, here." you let kerstin walk you over to the little desk across from the bed. she pulled your shirt off of your body and promptly bent you over the desk. you expected her to take her clothes off and maybe grab the strap-on, but instead you were only met with her fingers. "does it feel okay? do you need more or less?"

"it's perfect, k, absolutely fucking perfect," you told her. kerstin hummed happily at your answer. you could feel two of her fingers inside of you, and as she pushed them further in, you realized that it was the middle two. you could feel the rest of her hand bump into you from behind as she began to pump her fingers in and out of you.

"you're taking my fingers so well. i don't know if i want to watch my hand or watch your reflection. you like seeing yourself getting fucked, don't you?" kerstin spoke to you without expecting any sort of answer. your head was a bit cloudy from your orgasm just seconds before, and all you wanted to focus on was the feeling of kerstin's fingers moving inside of you.

she kept talking to you, but you didn't comprehend a word of it. her voice helped to soothe you as her fingers curled inisde of you. every nerve in your body was doing overtime, and kerstin's lips pressed gentle kisses to the top of your back and shoulders.

"kerstin, please," you began to plead with her. kerstin couldn't clearly hear you, but she recognized the jumbled mix of whimpering in your mumbles.

"shh, shh. i've got you. just relax, it's okay. cum for me. i want to feel your pretty little cunt flutter around my fingers. cum for me, you know i fucking love it." kerstin moved her body with yours as she gave you the last few thrusts of her fingers. you fell limp against the desk, and kerstin carefully moved you onto one of the beds for rest.

you looked around the room as you laid on the bed. kerstin was moving around, unzipping and zipping your suitcase as she pulled out something casual for you to wear. you let out a sigh as you watched the sun begin to set in the sky. the blinds were wide open, having stayed that way from when you opened them up to wake kerstin up earlier in the morning.

"what are you thinking about?" kerstin asked as she climbed into bed with you. she placed the clothes by your side, just in case you wanted to change into them.

"do you think anybody saw us?" you pointed at the window, where kerstin just smirked. she had been looking out of it several times whenever she had been with you, and while it was a little improbably, she swore that she had made eye contact with at least a couple of people.

"who knows? they're lucky if they did."

[bahrtofane]

kylians sick, and only you can make him feel better

word count - 1.1 k+

watch it - pure fluff ^^

-----

kylian feels like shit. a pile of straight garbage. what he thought was a small headache and stuffy nose has snowballed full force into the worst cold he’s had since he was like 5. at least he hopes it’s just a cold. 

his eyes droop wet and cloudy with the tears that he keeps blinking away. he desperately wants to go to sleep but the constant leaking of his nose and the feeling of being permanently submerged in water from his ears down is making that impossible. his left ear hurts with each movement of his head, god forbid he yaws, not only does it send a shock wave of pain to his ear but also makes the swelling of his sore throat that much more apparent. 

his head pounds, phone long forgotten somewhere tossed on the floor. and to top it all off he thinks he’s running a fever. it’s so cold, no matter how hard he tries to sink deeper into his mattress, hugging his comforter tighter, he can’t fight the constant chill that creeps up his spine. 

it’s around 2 am last time he checked. god fucking dammit he just needs to go to bed. he so desperately wishes you were here, to kiss away his frustrated tears, tuck him into bed properly, make him feel better. but he doesn’t want to bother you. especially not at this time. he can power through this, he knows he can.

hours pass by in agony. the sweat has pooled in his sheets, sticking it to him and permanently settling in a cold he can’t shake off. it’s shit. he feels like shit. he probably smells like it too. And to make everything so much fucking better training is first thing tomorrow morning. Shit shit shit shit. 

why does this always happen to him at the most inconvenient of times. what it the hair he didn’t dry off before bed 2 days ago? the coat he didn’t wear when taking the trash out? ice water he drank after practice? holy fucking shit, he writhes in his sheets and comforters again, silently praying to any entity out there to end this suffering. 

the pain and exhaustion is what knocks him out. for better or worse. 

——-

kylian eyes open blearily, blinking away harsh rays of sunlight and crusties from the restless night. when he wakes he realizes one of two things, 1) it’s way, way, past training, and 2) he feels impossibly worse. 

he doesn’t get out of bed, mainly because he just can’t. the pain has immobilized him, fearing if he so much as moves an inch it’ll sink him further into helpless suffering. 

so he whines pitifully and closes his eyes tight. 

——-

he’s woken up again, but not by the sun, or pain. it’s the sound of his door opening that startles him awake. lovely, absolutely marvelous. he’s fucking bed ridden and about to be robbed. what a time to be alive. 

the footsteps don’t sound like an intruders, soft and gentle as they pad around his apartment. kylian waits in silence. what if it’s someone sent to check on him? hakimi most likely.

when the door to his room opens he’s never been happier to be wrong. 

it’s you, standing in his hoodie, wrapped in one of the blankets he leaves on the couch. a god send. 

you take one look at his feeble state and frown. 

“kyky?” 

all he can do is manage a garbled response, more of a pitiful whine. 

you rush over, kicking the blanket off and rushing up to cup his face in your hands. 

“my sweet baby, are you sick?” you murmur. 

a weak nod. 

“shit you're burning up, hold on.”  

you come back with a thermometer, gently opening his mouth and setting it under his tongue. 

“hold still baby.” you whisper, hand holding his jaw in place, he almost melts into your touch.

he waits for what feels like hours, till the little beeps go off and you gently remove the plastic from his mouth. 

“you have a fever all right. i prescribe to you bed rest, lots of fluids, and tylenol for the pain. “ 

he blinks sleepy and you take that as an answer. 

you get to work tidying up his room for him while he blinky sleepily as you.

"just rest, I'll call the team for you."

he goes back to the safety of sleep the moment you finish your sentence. 

—--

when he wakes out yet again, its to you at the foot of his bed, and a bowl of spoop in hand.

he grimaces at the thought but you shake your head, "you gotta eat baby."

he all but sobs trying to get up to eat properly, but you make it work. gently spooning the hot soup into his mouth. 

it takes a little while but the soup is half done when he calls it quits. flopping back into his expanse of pillows and blankets. 

he makes a noise and you feel his hand desperately reaching for you, as meek as can be. you give it to him, gently swiping your thumb over his. 

bed time proves to be a hassle as all he can do is groan in pain, begging for you to join him in the very few words he can croak out. 

“if i get sick, who will take care of you? “ 

he stays silent, out of spite or inability remains a mystery as you tuck him into bed properly and take your things to the guest room. 

——-

thankfully, it is just a cold and he’s back to his usual self in no more than 3 days. all thanks to you. 

he’s a quiet type of thanker, thanks lies in his actions and eyes rather than words. 

the gentle hand that rests on the small of your back, picking you up even if its just a 5 minute drive. he gets you flowers, and even takes you out to dinner. 

your smiles the whole way and it makes him beyond happy.

he finally gets those kisses he wanted to bad, easy and smooth against his skin.

"thank you darling." he hums, hands on your waist, bringing you close. 

you smile against his lips, melting into them once more. you sit on his lap at the edge of his bed. at the edge of the world you feel sometimes.

"come to the match?" he almost begs.

"always."

"I have a jersey I want to see you in." he plays with the hem of your shirt.

"when do you not want to see me in your jersey?" you playfully roll your eyes. 

he snorts, flipping you into your back, mercilessly attacking your sides with tickles as you burst at the seams.

you laugh till you cant breath, and he's enjoying this all too much. collapsing into you when he's had enough. 

"your heavy." you squeak.

he pretends not to listen, you resort to kicking him off.

"wheres this jersey ?" 

he immediately jumps at this, taking your hand in his to lead you to your 50th jersey of his at this point. you don't mind, if anything it fills you with pride and joy to wear his jerseys. always his.

[seaspringangel]

sparrow in the storm — ais

summary: ais becomes a sanctuary for not only one, but two little sparrows.

word count: 1.1k

content warnings: gn!reader ✦ established relationship ✦ fluff ✦ mild mild suggestive themes ✦ reader wearing ais’s yukata cuz its their god given right

notes: a while ago, @hollana sent me cute ask one + ask two and @danger-bird made adorable fanart for it. they really made my entire month! so this is dedicated to them :) this is also a birthday gift for @danger-bird, as today is their birthday today. i hope they have a wonderful celebration!

The bright melody of birdsong carried you out of the haze of your dreams.

So soft and sweet it was, it wrapped around you like a silken blanket, a touch warmer than the drowsy heat emanating from the fabric of Ais’s yukata that covered your entire body at the moment.

The birdsong was serenading in your left ear, so you languidly turned in that direction, your nose immediately brushing against the thigh of the Monster sitting upright beside you, cross-legged. You peeled your eyes open, and your world delicately smudged red from the eerie glow radiating from the waters of the Seaspring.

Between the cradle of his red horns, an actual sparrow was nesting in the darkness of Ais’s hair.

You stare at the bird for a few seconds, watching the crystalline rain droplets gather like gem clusters on Ais's head. “So you’re finally replacing me, it seems.”

Eyes closed, Ais smirked. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you.”

You roll your eyes so hard that it's a miracle they didn’t become lodged in your skull.

You sat up and yawned, idly fidgeting with the bandages wrapped around your arms. “When did you even get a real sparrow, anyway?”

“She flew in with the storm,” was Ais’s soft reply, and you listen to the din of rain thundering the rooftop of the Seaspring like a barrage of fists striking down from the heavens, the cloudy light seeping in from the outside painting his bare chest in translucent silver splashes. “She was weak. Couldn’t leave her out in the cold.”

You smiled a bit as the bird, still singing its merry little song, fluttered down from his hair to nuzzle against his face. She truly adored him, no different than any other creature that falls in love with Ais when they cross his path. “So you let her nest in your hair?”

“Nothing is stopping you from making a nest yourself, sparrow.”

You roll your eyes yet again. Ais is the only one alive who can make you feel heavenly tenderness and agitation that burns hotter than any hellfire. “You do realize I’m not a real bird, right?”

Ais opened his eyes and turned his head to fully regard you then. Your heart skipped a beat once, twice, and a third time as he looked you up and down slowly as if caressing you with the sharpness of his eyes. You pulled his yukata tighter around your body, suddenly becoming shy. It was almost hard to breathe when his eyes went warm like that and became lovelier than crimson jewels glittering in the light of golden sunshine.

Ais hummed thoughtfully. “Could’ve fooled me.”

You blink owlishly at him. Then, incensed, you promptly smacked his shoulder, hot irritation and a sickening sense of warmth going to war inside you. “You are so incredibly annoying.”

The bastard began to chuckle, and his new songbird had the gall to chirp alongside him as if she were laughing at your embarrassment too. How dare that cute, feathery homewrecker?

…Okay, maybe you were a little jealous, but you would quite literally swallow a thousand teacup shards than ever admit to that, so you opened your mouth to say something particularly acerbic and snarky when suddenly Ais pursed his lips and whistled a colorful melody, cupping his hands together.

You and the bird both reacted as if Ais plucked the string of some latent instinct in your bodies. The bird fluttered down to rest in his large waiting palms, and you couldn’t help but be drawn in by his gravitational pull and the need to be near him and soak up the rest of his misty heat like a flower drinking the last dredges of summer rain.

You press into his side and watch Ais’s calloused thumbs gently smooth through the dandelion fluff of the bird’s feathers, the little thing happily thrilling all the while, before looking up at his face and feeling your heart melt instantly.

There was a certain radiance to Ais when he cared for something or someone. It was like trailing fingers along the surface of iridescent water, yearning to crack below the glowing surface to discover the beauty underneath. You know what you’ll find in those waters will make you feel whole again.

There was a softness to his gaze, a look you knew he reserved for you and you alone, especially when he thought you weren’t looking, embers sparking from the depths of his eyes, keeping you warm when you couldn’t do it yourself. You wanted him to look at you like that always, and you wanted his hands, the same hands that cradled the singing sparrow with a practiced gentleness, the same hands that held you with the same reverence, to always hold yours until the whole world rotten away.

“She has your eyes,” Ais murmured, resting his cheek on top of your head. You softly snorted but did not offer a rebuttal this time. You can let him have his delusions just this once. “You think she’ll let us keep her?”

You nod, and after he lets the bird fly back to her rightful place upon his head, you let him pull you into his lap. “I don’t see why not. It’s safer here than out there, even if it’s the scariest place I've ever slept in.”

Ais chuckled against the crown of your head, a rich sound that sent decadent shivers up your spine. “Y’know, I never had two singing sparrows live with me before. This is going to be nice.”

You snort softly against his chest. He was pushing it with this ‘who is the real sparrow’ contest. “Uh, what kind of song do I sing? I don’t consider yelling at you all the time to be particularly soothing.”

Ais hummed. “You sing a different kind of song, not the kind made for polite company but for my ears alone. I like how needy you sound when I -“

This was a learning moment to stop taking his bait.

You jerk your head back far enough to make contact with his sternum, and he lets out a short huff of startled breath. You pull his yukata over your face, desperately trying to hide the savage scarlet burning of your cheeks. “I hate you. I’m going back to sleep. Don’t wake me up ever again. Have fun spending time with your new lover.”

Even when struggling to catch his breath, Ais still dared to chuckle at your red-hot embarrassment. You would’ve enjoyed the sound of his laughter if you didn’t want to strangle him to death.

Soon, the sweet melody of birdsong, the torrential storm outside, and Ais’s heartbeat—a firm and steady drumbeat against your ear—lulled you into a soft, safe dream where everything you desired was within reach.

[funniestpersonalivefr]

couldn't leave you

wesker lives after the events of resident evil five but returns to find you mourning his death. mentions of character death and the grief that comes with that. not proofread, credit to image owner.

it felt like a scene from a movie. the day was cloudy and grey, providing the perfect atmosphere as you watched the empty coffin lower into the ground. tears fell from your eyes from behind the black veil you wore. your husband was dead.

the dirt was placed over the coffin, it was empty but it still brought pain to your heart. they hadn't even succeeded in finding a body to bring you closure. you didn't want to believe it but after the days passing turned into weeks and then into months the possibility of his death seemed more and more likely.

it was impossible for your mind to believe that albert wesker, the god of a man he was, could've died. his mortality never seemed to be a real factor in his life, you could've sworn he'd live forever.

the tombstone stated back at you, almost taunting you as you continued to read it over and over again.

in memory of albert wesker, a loving husband.

it felt official, he was gone. you couldn't help the tears that slipped from your face as you walked away from the grave as you went back to your car. almost as if the world around you knew how solemn of an occasion this was, the dark clouds began to let rain fall. it felt as though the sky was crying with you.

as you sat in the car, collecting yourself and wiping what tears remained in your eyes. you looked around briefly, you could've sworn you saw him. you blinked and he was gone.

your brain has to be playing tricks on you.

little do you know your husband was standing in the cemetery as you drove away. he approached the grave with a sigh. part of him couldn't help but wonder if it would be better to let himself die. he'd free you from the constant worry and the target that had been placed on your back when you married him but deep down no matter how selfish it may seem, he couldn't leave you.

you had found yourself back in the house you once shared with the love of your life, specifically you were curled up in his study. the study was truly his, his smell still lingered from the countless hours he spent slaving away at his research.

"oh albert, i wish you were here," you mumble into the couch that sat in his study. you had spent the nights following the news of his supposed death sleeping in this very room.

you were already drifting off to sleep, the exhaustion from crying finally taking its toll on your body. the front door unlocked and your ears barely picked up on it but your body was sent into full alert.

did whoever killed wesker decide to get you next?

you searched his office looking for anything you could use to defend yourself, settling on the fire poker. you tried to think of all the self defense tips your late husband had given you but all you could do is cower in a hiding spot by the door, hoping to maybe get the upper hand.

heavy footsteps approach and you raise the fire poker, bracing yourself to attack the intruder. the door opens and you swing, eyes closed as you wait for the impact.

"it's good to see you too, dear," a familiar voice speaks out.

your eyes open wide and you stare at the man in front of you. it was your husband, it was albert wesker. he had blocked your makeshift weapon with ease and it quickly slipped from your hands.

"albert? i thought you were..." you say, getting choked up as emotions overwhelm you. the blonde man pulls you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you tight as you begin to sob into his chest.

"shhh, i know," is all he can say as he jaw clenches shut. he's fighting his own tears at this point and he refuses to let that side of him slip, not now at least. you pull back, cupping his face as you cry. a smile crosses your face as you stare at him.

"it's you, it's really you," your tone is filled with disbelief and you can't help but pull him into a kiss. the kiss is desperate as you try to cement in your mind that this is real.

he kisses you back before pulling away, taking in your disheveled state. the two of you spend the next few hours in each other's arms in moments filled with love after he explains all he can about what happened.

his body is marked with horrendous burns that have torn away at his skin, albert won't let you see them. they're covered under numerous layers of bandages and he'd hate to hurt you anymore. albert's head rests on your chest as you comb through his blonde hair. you pretend not to notice when tears start to slip from his red fiery eyes.

his body is mangled and burnt and he's afraid. albert wesker is afraid of you leaving him, his body isn't the work of art it was before yet here he is in your arms.

you hum to him softly as you comb through his hair, you'll never understand how he managed to survive but you continue to thank any higher power for bringing him back to you. his breathing slows and albert wesker manages to fall asleep in your arms.

[chaoticpositvty]

"God I love you," Tommy said walking in the door after a long shift to the sight of his boyfriend sprawled out on the couch shirtless & in grey sweats. 

Buck sat up quickly and stared at him with those patented Evan Buckley heart eyes. It took Tommy a minute to make the connection between his words and Buck's reaction. 

"Hey, wow, that just slipped out. Obviously I mean it, but wow, I didn't, it's probably--I don't want to," it wasn't often he couldn't find his words but right now he really couldn't.

Tommy knew Buck felt the same way about him but he hadn't planned on saying those words so casually. It's just Buck kept showing up for him, he kept bringing him sunshine on his cloudy days, he kept giving him hope after so much hopelessness. His body just couldn't keep it in anymore. 

He kept his eyes glued to Buck who still hadn't spoken but soon closed the distance between them and intertwined his hands with Tommy's. 

"Did you know that sea otters hold each other’s paws as they fall asleep so they don’t drift apart?" Tommy searched his boyfriend's face for the point he was trying to make, "well, I never want to drift away from you." 

"Oh, I almost forgot, I love you too, it's almost stupid how much I love you." 

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡Your Personal Ghost｡⋆.

Brahms Heelshire x plus size reader

As a writer, you need peace and quiet but it seems the ghost in your new home has some other ideas for you

Warnings: paranoia, sort of stalking, usual Brahms shenanigans, nudity, little bit of smut, m and f masturbation, voyeurism

WC: 861

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Halloween Celebration

That feeling was back, the feeling that you were being watched, like eyes were cutting into the back of your head, observing every move you made. A shiver rolled down your spine but you shook it off in favour of continuing your work.

The house was old, very fucking old, so it was bound to have a few ghosts. That is what you bought the place, you hoped that those spirits could help inspire you, your publisher was getting very pushy for a new book.

You had hoped that the manor in the picturesque English countryside, which was being sold for a very reasonable price, would give you some ideas and motivation for a new novel. But so far, your writer’s block had turned into a full on story dam and you had developed a pervasive feeling of paranoia. The old ass furniture that creaked when you so much as looked at it didn’t help much either.

The small cursor on your laptop screen seemed to mock you as it blinked away in your empty document. You had written about 30 story ideas since you moved in a month ago but you deleted all of them, or at least you assumed you deleted them because they would disappear when you woke up in the morning. None of the stories felt right, they were all either too overdone or not creative enough for a full length book and it was quickly driving you crazy.

“God!” You groaned and leaned back into your desk chair, covering your eyes with frustration. “How the fuck does Stephen King do this?” You whined as your fingertips dug into your temples in an attempt to massage away the tension headache that was beginning to form. 

Your shoulders sagged as you sat forwards again. “I need a break.” The legs of the chair scraped against the old hardwood, echoing through the otherwise silent office. A glance at the window revealed yet another cloudy day and you wondered if it was ever sunny here. 

The eyes of the creepy portraits in the hall followed you as you walked by, like they always did but you truly didn’t have the energy to deal with them today. Your bedroom was a complete mess but you told yourself it was a functional mess as you stepped around several piles of clothes and books on your way to the bathroom. 

A huge claw-foot tub rested beneath a large window overlooking the expansive grounds of the manor, providing you with literally the best baths you had ever taken. Soon enough, hot steam began to fill the room and the sound of running water overpowered the buzz of fear that almost constantly filled your head. A couple drops of lavender essential oils and some bubble bath completed your little ritual.

Shedding off your ratty writing clothes, you stepped into the tub. Immediately the hot water relaxed your tense muscles and you breathed out a sigh of relief. You sank further into the water, letting your tired eyes flutter shut as your hands travelled down the length of your soft body, coming to rest at the seam of your thighs.

“Maybe I need to properly relax. It has been a while.” You murmured to yourself as your fingertips began to explore your sensitive inner thighs. A quiet mewl slipped through your lips, stoking the fire that was beginning to blaze in your belly. Your hips bucked into your hand, keening for your own touch.

“Fuuuck.” You whined as you finally brushed against your clit, sending a ripple of pleasure through your body. Water light lapped at the edges of the porcelain tub as your body moved, chasing your end. But even through the sound of the water and your breathless moans, you heard something else.

A loud creak and the trembling of the wall. You froze and looked around the room, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise. There was a crack in the wallpaper on the wall opposite you and you swore that something moved behind it but as you waited, holding your breath in fear, nothing happened. 

You groaned before you let out a relieved laugh. “God, this place is haunted.” Your hands did not return to your previous activities, instead you shut your eyes and let the still warm water caress your body, unaware of the very real presence behind the wall.

His cooling cum coated Brahms’s hand and pants as he struggled to catch his breath through his pale mask. His eyes remained locked on your barely concealed body as his cock began to twitch back to life, he wished that you would play with yourself again but he was still content to see you completely bare to him, just as he had dozens of times before.

He so badly wished to reveal himself to you, to have you touch him instead of only imagining it while he used your stolen clothes to wrap around his cock. You would stay here forever with him, he would guarantee it but he had to be patient. At least today he didn’t have to sneak out of the wall and delete your manuscript again.

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[sapphire-writes]

Chapter 1: Welcome Home

main masterlist || series masterlist || next chapter

summary ~ Hired by the elusive Aemond Targaryen, you arrive at Harrenhal House to care for his niece and nephew. Things go bump in the night.

warnings below the cut for your convenience

warnings ~ spooky ghostly stuff, angst, mentions of death, loss of a child, blood, wound care

note: and so begins our spooky adventure! I hope you enjoy it!

banner made by the ever lovely @ewanmitchellcrumbs, ilysm ange!

Harrenhal stands on the edge of our world atop lush, green hills. The God’s Eye Lake is the biggest in the country, more like the sea than any landbound body of water you’d ever seen before. 

As the Uber driver creeps along the bend of the God’s Eye, the old manor begins to come into view. A thick layer of fog seems to cling to the bricks; gray tendrils creeping onto the driveway and spilling onto the lawn. 

“Are you a long way from home?” your driver asks, meeting your eyes in the rearview as he attempts to strike up polite conversation. You assume it’s because of the rather rough start you got off with him. 

“Harrenhal House?” he had asked, face red, eyes wide, “That place is cursed.”

Not exactly the warm welcome you had wished for when you arrived in the Riverlands. Not exactly the impression Aemond Targaryen had given in his email when he offered you the job. The interview had been completed over the phone. His voice was cold, words clipped as though he wanted to find someone qualified and quickly to care for his niece and nephew.

The car pulls up to Harrenhal, tires crunching against the gravel of the driveway. The iron gates were open as you’d driven up, expecting your arrival. Hedges and statues covered with moss decorate the path toward the main house. The car slowly creeps closer. Your driver clutches the wheel as though the house means to swallow him whole. 

Harrenahal stands out like a stain against the clear blue sky. It is an enormous manor, with shutters, and brick the color of pitch. The terrifying eyesore of the Riverlands. Crows have made their nests in several of the gables, their beady black eyes watching intently as the car comes to a halt. 

A murder. 

Of course, you’d done your research before accepting the position. Both on the home and on your host. 

Harrenhal had a grizzly history. Your driver wasn’t wrong when he called it a cursed place. But the dead didn’t scare you. You had ghosts of your own.

Aemond Targaryen was a different story. Second son of Viserys Targaryen, whose recent passing was still hot news in the corporate world. Not that you paid close attention, but you’d heard there still had been no decision on the naming of the new CEO of Fire & Blood Co.

The death of the patriarch seemed to trigger a chain reaction of devastating events. If Harrenhal was cursed, so was the Targaryen family tree. Wherever the silver-haired blue bloods go, tragedy seems to follow. 

The death of little Jaehaerys is the most tragic of all. 

You’d yet to see a child-sized coffin and desperately hoped you never would.

They’d whisked Helaena Targaryen away from the boisterous streets of King’s Landing rather quickly after the funeral of her first son. After her accident.

You didn’t know what had happened, it was omitted from the press. Even the tabloids had only guesses. You doubt there are many limitations to actions caused by a mother’s grief. 

Jaehaerys left two siblings behind; a twin sister and an infant brother still too young to toddle. Aemond Targaryen was hardly ready to be a father. You’d researched him as well and read about his ascent up the corporate ladder. 

The boost of nepotism couldn’t have hurt, but from what you could tell, as you hunched over your laptop in the darkness of your hotel room, Aemond Targaryen had worked hard for his success. A tragic accident when he was a child left him blind in his left eye, leaving it cloudy and sightless, though nothing more was disclosed online about the incident.

There were other Targaryen siblings; an elder sister from a first marriage, a party boy, and another brother backpacking through the eastern continent. You flipped through countless articles and stalked the Instagram pages of the elusive family. 

However, Aemond Targaryen did not have social media. 

What he did have, was a marriage announcement, followed soon after by an obituary. 

A handsome young widower. Not even thirty. 

The deceased wife was much older. You’d browsed through Google images while slurping cold pad Thai, though there were hardly any pictures of them as a couple. Aemond seemed to avoid the press at every chance.

There weren’t many photos of him; just candid shots here and there—a dark suit, a flash of silver hair. You had shut your laptop after that, feeling suddenly self-conscious, as though Aemond would know you’d read about him the first time he laid eyes on you. 

Your Uber driver helps deposit your bags onto the gravel, shutting the trunk with a grunt. He turns to you, eying the manor nervously, as though it's a living thing waiting to open its jaws and devour you.  

“You be careful, love,” he tells you, nodding towards the house. 

“I’m tougher than I look,” you assure, awarding him a wry smile. 

The smile he offers in return is more of a grimace, and he is quick to return to the safety of his vehicle. You grab your carry-on and the handle of your suitcase, gazing up at the manor. A crow caws, alerting the others to your arrival.

A group of crows is called a murder.

You walk up to the doors, knocking once, twice. There is no answer. Turning the handle, you stepped into the grand foyer. A large staircase is the first thing you see, though you’re distracted by the man walking down the steps at a leisurely pace. 

Aemond Targaryen is more intimidating than the candid photos you’d hungrily browsed. He’s tall, with broad shoulders and a slender waist. His long, silver hair is braided into a bun resting at the nape of his neck, a few tendrils ghosting around his face. Pouty lips, sharp jawline, high cheekbones, and a beautiful straight, pointed nose. 

You’d always had a thing for noses. 

Seven hells. Stop that. This guy is your boss, your employer. 

His eyes. One blue, the other milky and lifeless. The gash of a faded scar running up the side of his face only served to make me more handsome. 

He greets you with the title of Miss, the gentle timbre of his voice floating down to you. It’s so formal, as though you’ve walked through a portal into a Jane Austin novel. He doesn’t smile, just watches you, sizing you up.

Fucking hell, he’s even more handsome in person. 

The man could be a model if business doesn’t work out for him.

You swallow the lump in your throat as you watch him descend the steps. With his hands in his pockets, and white button-down sleeves rolled to his elbows, he oozes an air of cold confidence as his eyes trace over you. He doesn’t offer a hand to shake, despite his formality. Even when he removes his hands from his pockets, letting one drag slowly down the railing. 

“You didn’t arrive with any other baggage?” Aemond quips, the fingers of his left hand uncurling from a clenched fist. 

You blink, before glancing at your suitcase, at the carry-on bag beside it, “No…?”

Aemond hums to himself, lips pressed firmly together. His face gives nothing away, an emotionless mask of disinterest. 

“No estranged boyfriend who’ll be coming looking for you?” he asks pointedly. 

Your cheeks warm at his statement. You should have guessed he’d be direct. He didn’t ask you in the interview about a partner; just made sure you were able to commit to the position for at least six months.  

“No,” you tell him, “No boyfriend.”

His eyes, both the blue and the milky sightless, hold your gaze intently before he nods. 

“Follow me then.”

Aemond gives you a tour of the house, showing you all the rooms you’ll have access to. Mysteries are hidden behind closed doors that Aemond doesn’t acknowledge, including a closed door decorated with paintings of vines and flowers. He omits the majority of the west wing of the house which includes the location of his study. 

A man has his secrets, you suppose. 

What he does show you is the kitchen, along with the nursery and the library. Despite the age of the house, the kitchen is large and modern, with cabinets painted a deep forest green beside stainless steel appliances. A gas stove houses a tea kettle, ready and waiting.

He shows you to your room last; on the eastern side of the house close to the nursery. You follow him down the hallway, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the silence. Aemond has not attempted small talk throughout the tour of the house. 

Aemond has stayed silent unless he is informing where he is taking you next, his hands clasped behind his back. It almost looks uncomfortable, the way he holds himself upright, his spine straight as an arrow. 

“Your sister lives here as well, right?” you ask absentmindedly looking at the tapestries that decorate the hall. 

Aemond stops in front of a door, turning back to you. Those cold eyes stoke a fire within you, setting you ablaze with each glance. He is silent for a moment before he opens the door. 

“This is your room,” he continues, ignoring your question, “There are extra sheets in the lower drawers, and on Sundays, the housekeeper comes to strip the beds and tend to the rest of the house.”

He opens the bottom drawers of the large oak dresser. A large mirror rests on top of it accompanied by a dark jewelry box. The dresser matches the rest of the furniture in the room; all dark stained wood as though each piece was dunked in ink. A large four-poster bed sits in the middle of the room, the green comforter is warm and inviting. You can see God’s Eye from the large arched window; the water sparkles with the afternoon light cascading across the surface like diamonds.

“I hope you’ll find it satisfactory,” Aemond says.

You turn to face him, standing in front of the window letting the warmth of the sun on your face.

“It’s more than satisfactory,” you tell him, “Straight out of a Shirley Jackson novel.”

Aemond shifts awkwardly from one foot to the other, seemingly perturbed by your praise. He purses his lips, glancing at the carpeted floor. You swear he’s smirking slightly.

“A backhanded compliment.”

“It’s not meant to be,” you assure him, your face warming with embarrassment.

“Yes well,” he says, clearing his throat, “Let's hope that’s how the buyers feel as well.”

“I didn’t realize you meant to sell,” you tell him.

“It’s ours for now, but I mean to relocate to Summerhal,” he comments, “This house isn’t held long.”

That’s all he says on the matter. You don’t ask him to elaborate. You doubt he would anyway, he seems keen to ignore your curiosity. Aemond leads you down the stairs once more and out through the kitchen onto a stone patio. The view of God’s Eye is spectacular, it’s close enough to stand at the edge if only you run down the hill. 

A garden disrupts the spacious greenery and you walk beside Aemond, struggling to keep up with his long strides. 

“She’s here, she’s here!” a small voice calls, followed by a young girl bursting through the doors and out onto the patio.

“Jaehaera!” a woman calls, chasing after the young girl.

She races down the steps to where you stand with Aemond in the gardens. Cheeks rosy, smiling brightly, Jaehaera Targareyn boldly walks up in front of you. Her blue eyes are wide and she holds out a fist full of daisies.

“I’ve picked these for you,” she declares and you kneel to meet her height, “Talya said I needed to wait.”

You take the flowers from her, pressing them against your nose and inhaling their sweet scent. You’ve always loved daisies. 

“Which you did not,” Tayla says, catching her breath as she arrives, “I’m sorry sir she didn’t-”

“It’s fine,” Aemond quips, arms tucked behind his back, “They needed to meet anyway.”

“It’s nice to meet you Jaehaera. I love your dress,” you tell her, and she twirls letting her baby-blue skirt billow around her.

“You’re much prettier than Kepus told me,” Jaehaera says, eyes drinking in every inch of your face.

“I told you I hadn’t any idea what she looked like,” Aemond gently corrects.

You smile, chest feeling warm at her kindness. You tell her your name and her nose crinkles.

“I’m going to call you Miss Gevie,” Jaehaera declares softly, “Because of how perfectly lovely you are.”

“Someone’s been practicing their High Valyrian,” Aemond remarks, “Have you had your lessons today?”

Jaehaera sighs, a very small sound, “Kessa kepus.”

“Syz riña,” Aemond says, a small smile appearing on his face before glancing at you, “You’ll have to meet Maelor as well.”

“Though he’s rather boring,” Jaehaera interrupts, “He only sleeps. I told muña I wanted a sister. I already have a brother.”

Your stomach flips at her words and you glance at Aemond. His expression is stoic, though Talya pales beside him. She steps forward, kneeling next to Jaehaera, who is busy counting the petals of the daisies you now hold. 

“Jaehaera,” she says, forcing a small smile.

“What?”

Tayla grimaces, placing a hand on her shoulder, “We’ve talked about-”

“I want to see muña,” Jaehaera interrupts, shaking off Talya’s comforting hand. She glances at Aemond for help, though he offers none.

“She’s resting now….”

“I want to see her!” Jaehaera insists, louder this time lower lip wobbling.

“Why don’t you say goodbye to Talya first,” Aemond says, “She’s been very kind accompanying you here.”

“You’re leaving?” you ask the woman.

“I’m needed elsewhere, this was a very temporary arrangement,” she tells you.

“She works for my mother,” Aemond clarifies, nostrils flaring slightly, “She was unable to make the journey here.”

You remember reading about Alicent Hightower. You don’t see any of his mother in Aemond’s features. Where Alicent is soft, Aemond is sharp; nose straight and long, chin prominent. The word lethal comes to mind.

Aemond has looks to kill.

You shake your head trying to clear your thoughts. 

“Can I show you my room?” Jaehaera asks, smiling once more.

“I’d love that,” you tell her, letting her place her small hand in yours and lead you back towards the house. 

You glance behind you, watching as Aemond and Talya converse before Harrenhal swallows you once more.

“Miss Gevie,” Jaehaera asks, tugging her comforter up to her chin, “Are you going to stay with us for a long time?”

You stop picking up some of her toys from the floor. You’d been playing with dolls since after dinner and had just settled down to read a story before bed. You smile, sitting on the edge of her bed.

“I am,” you tell her, “Your uncle is working very hard and needs a little extra help.”

Jaehaera nods, taking in the words you speak. Her blue eyes watch you carefully, seeming wiser than her years. 

“I like you,” she says softly, “Kepus likes you too. I can tell. He just doesn’t say so.”

You smile at her. Aemond was clearly softer in the presence of Jaehaera. He’d been more pleasant at dinner than when you’d first arrived. Helaena was absent from supper.

“You’re not going to leave? No matter what?”

You stroke some hair from her face, “I am not going anywhere, any time soon.”

Jaehaera scoots down, laying back against her pillow. You stand, pulling the covers up when something catches your eye. You reach under her pillow, removing a doll that was hidden there. 

“Who’s this?” you ask, staring at the doll. 

It’s barely a doll, more a stick of melted charred plastic, warped from the heat. You can see remnants of legs and arms, the path a flame must have licked up through the plastic; the hair burnt to the scalp. The face is unrecognizable. 

Jaehaera reaches up, closing her small fingers around it.

“He stays here,” she tells you, “He likes to stay inside his castle.”

Geez. Creepy or what? You force a smile, letting her take the weird Barbie.

“Okay,” you tell her, “Goodnight Jaehaera.”

“Goodnight Miss Gevie,” she sing-songs.

“You know, you can just call me by my name,” you remind her.

“I like Miss Gevie better, it suits you,” she insists, yawning.

You find yourself yawning as well, and head to bed. The manor is quiet as you make your way to your room, tucking in for the night.

Sleeping in a new place can cause strange dreams. 

A bloodcurdling scream tears through the halls of the sleepy manor, its icy tendrils ripping you from your dreams and back into your bed. You awake with a gasp, sucking in air as though you’d been held underwater, just breaking through the surface. Hand clutching your throat you sit up, hair sticking to the back of your neck from the layer of sweat that covers your body. 

The house is quiet once more.

Breathing heavily you sit up in bed for a moment, trying to calm the rapid beating of your heart. You rise on shaky legs moving towards the door, and the ancient doorknob groans in protest as you turn it. 

The hallway is dark, moonlight shining through the window at the end painting the floor with streaks of silver. 

Maybe you were still dreaming.

But then, a low groan begins, the guttural sounds of a mourning mother’s wail. It washes over you like ice water and your stomach turns as the scream reaches its highest peak. Despite the alarm in your mind telling you to turn back into your room and hide under the covers, you race down the hallway towards the sound. 

With each and every step toward the western wing, the screaming gets louder, broken up with deep sobs. You quicken your pace, bare feet padding against the carpet as you reach the source. The door you’d passed earlier, painted with flowers and twisting vines is open now, yellow light pouring into the hall from the lamp. 

Aemond holds a girl in his arms--not a girl but a small woman; she’s frail, elbows poking against flesh like a starved baby bird, tears streaming down her ashy cheeks. Her silver hair is damp with perspiration, clinging to her face and neck as she clutches Aemond’s forearm. They’re in a heap together on the floor, Aemond’s arms tensed around her as he gently shushes her. 

“Helaena…it's alright, it was just a dream,” he assures her, his voice softer and warmer than you’ve heard since meeting him. 

He glances up at you, acknowledging your presence but saying nothing; his entire attention is on his sister. 

“It’s never just a dream,” Helaena wails, nails digging into Aemond’s forearm, “Or maybe it is, maybe I’m asleep even now.”

A chill runs down your spine at Helaena’s words.

“Maybe I’ve been sleeping all along,” she continues, eyes glassy and her voice hoarse, “I could feel him, Aemond, it was so real.”

“I know,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss into her hair.

“I could feel him…in my arms….against my breast like when he was a baby…feeding, it was so real,” she says, her voice dropping into a whisper. 

Helaena’s lips trembled, parted in a silent sob. The hand that does not anchor her to Aemond rests atop her breast, as though she can feel Jaehaerys against her chest even now. 

“It’s alright dōna mandia,” Aemond murmurs, still stroking her hair. He rocks back and forth, starting a gentle pace to soothe her, “Go to the kitchen.” His voice is directed at you this time, your eyes meeting his. The tone he uses is still soft, and when you don’t move, he gestures toward the hall with a nod of his head. 

“Do you hear him?” Helaena continues, “Running down the hall? Jaehaerys! Māzigon kesīr dōna valonqar!” (Come here, sweet boy). 

“There’s no one there, Helaena,” Aemond soothes. 

“I hear him,” she sobs, turning her face into Aemond’s chest, “Why can’t you hear him?”

Helaena’s sobs and questions are still ringing through your head as you leave the room, heading downstairs. 

You make your way to the kitchen, standing in the dark, shocked for a moment before turning on the light. Helaena’s cries and pleas still echo in your mind as you fill the kettle left on the stove and turn on the gas burner. Searching through cabinets you find an array of handmade mugs, choosing a purple one with a twisted handle. 

You rummage through some more drawers until you find some herbal tea, setting it beside the stove as you wait for the water to boil. You tap your fingers against the counter, a nervousness curling in your belly as you gaze out the window that leads to the backyard. You had known Helaena wasn’t well, but you didn’t realize just how serious it was. 

You inhale a deep breath trying to steady yourself. It’s shaken you up quite a bit, hearing her agonized screams. Your hands tremble and you press your palms flat against the counter. A door slams from somewhere upstairs and you glance at the ceiling. 

You look out the window once more, peering into the darkness. The God's Eye is just a still pool reflecting the light of the moon. A shadow moves behind you, reflecting in the glass and you gasp turning around.

“Seven hells!” you curse as Aemond walks into the kitchen, “You scared me.”

He doesn’t say anything, he just watches you for a moment, chest rising and falling with his breath. He must have also been asleep when Helaena’s terrors began as he’s clad in a black t-shirt and gray sweatpants, silver hair loosely braided down his back.  

Ruby-red beads of blood blossom from the crescent-shaped marks on Aemond’s left forearm. You watch them swell into ruby marbles against his porcelain flesh before he grabs a rag on the counter, covering them. 

“Are you alright?” you ask, as Aemond sits in a chair. 

It’s almost like he doesn’t realize you’re talking to him; he takes a moment to process before he nods. You watch him as he stares at the table, tension rolling off his shoulders. The kettle begins to whistle and you quickly remove it from the stovetop, turning off the flames. 

You pour your own mug before moving to the cabinet where you’d found it, retrieving a second. This one is green with gray streaks. Another handmade treasure, you’re sure. 

You make Aemond a cup of tea, placing it in front of him before taking the seat next to him. His eye flickers toward the steaming cup. Though he hesitates for a moment, he wraps his long fingers against it, pulling it closer.

“It’s hot,” you tell him, as he lifts it to his lips.

“I don’t mind,” he murmurs. You’d likely burn your lip if you didn’t wait a few minutes. Aemond sighs contentedly, violet eye meeting yours.

“Thank you,” he says softly, “I should have told you…”

“It’s alright,” you assure him, “I figured she was grieving. You’d mentioned she’d been unwell.”

“The doctors say it's night terrors,” Aemond comments, taking another sip, “Due to the trauma she’s experienced.”

“That makes sense.”

“I’m meant to speak with her psychiatrist later this week,” he says, “She’s begun a new medication to help her sleep. I don’t think it’s been doing her any good.”

“Sometimes those things take time,” you tell him, trying to ease some of his distress. He merely hums in response, as though he’s heard it all before. You glance at the rag on his forearm, biting on your lower lip before deciding to speak again. “Do you have a first aid kit?” 

Aemond nods, bringing a hand to his face, rubbing the bridge of his nose, and squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Above the fridge,” he murmurs, not looking up.

Rising from your seat, you retrieve the small kit, and place it on the table in front of you. You reach out toward him, tentatively moving the rag from his forearm, revealing the crescent-shaped marks. They’ve begun to clot, and you fold the rag into a small square, placing it on the table beside you. You dig for a few bandaids settling for the smallest ones. 

“She had nowhere else to go,” Aemond says, more to himself than to you as you place the bandages on his arm, “Jaerhara, and Maelor they need to be with family. There’s no one else. Nowhere else.”

“They’re lucky to have you,” you tell him, pulling your hands away. You reach for your mug, placing your hands around it and letting the warmth seep into you. 

Aemond hums, not answering, though he seems unconvinced by your statement. 

“I mean it,” you tell him, “I can see how much you care about them. And your sister.”

Aemond meets your eye once more, his gaze softening.

“She is the best person,” he tells you, his voice even and calm, “The best mother….the best sister.”

There’s pain hidden behind the words that he speaks; you can hear it coating his voice. 

“She’s just in one of her hard times,” he assures you, “She goes through phases. Not..not wanting to see Maelor…it comes and goes.”

You reach for his hand. In the heat of the moment, you’re not sure what else to do. There are no more words of comfort to offer him. Your hand fits in his perfectly, resting on top of the table. His palm is warm, the skin surprisingly calloused. Your lips part, a soft gasp slipping free at the feeling of his hand in yours. 

Eyes wide, you smile softly at him before squeezing comfort into his hand. Aemond doesn’t squeeze back, but he doesn’t pull his hand away either. You sit like that for several minutes, neither of you moving. 

“Your tea will get cold,” Aemond eventually murmurs, breaking the silence. 

Your hand slips out of his grasp, the sudden emptiness making you shiver. Clutching the mug, you bring it to your lips, sipping carefully. 

It’s already cold.

How long have you been sitting here?

Aemond is watching you still, as you lower the mug. He stands then, taking both mugs to the sink.

“It’s late,” he comments, “We should get some sleep.”

You nod, standing. Aemond pushes into your chair, walking beside you back upstairs. He turns toward the western wing. 

“You’re not going to sleep?” you ask, unable to help yourself.

“I am,” Aemond says, turning slightly, “I prefer to stay in my study.”

“Oh,” you comment, “Well ... .goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he says before disappearing down the hallway.

You return to your room, lying underneath the covers trying to get warm when you come to a realization. 

That was the first time Aemond had called you by your name.

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[shapard]

Demons (Pt. 2)

Lucifer x fem!nun!reader

A/n: Here is Part 2!!!

Mating circle, NSFW, Nudity, P in V, Smut, mention of breeding

Part 1 < Part 2

As time passed and you grew more accustomed with your new body. You started to feel sick. 

Your body started to grow hot, and you began to sweat uncontrollable. After some days lewd thoughts made your mind spin and your abdomen clenched around nothing. 

Today you couldn’t even get out of bed. it was too hard. Your head burned through your scalp like acid. Your muscles ache every time you tried to move.

Instead of resting you start with your morning prayer. This time to Lucifer, hoping he’d come and explain what is happening with you. 

You thought sinners can't really fall sick. The pain in every part of your body proves this theory wrong. Or so you thought.

You opened one of your eyes and gazed to the sparkling noise. A golden portal opened, and Lucifer stepped into your apartment. You stood up abruptly. Your head started to spin uncontrollably. To help yourself you reached for the near wall, but it was too far.

Your stomach cramps and you almost vomit at the sudden pressure. The spinning only got worse every second. With a loud sigh you collapsed onto the floor and everything around you turned black. 

....

A wet towel was pressed onto your forehead, and you sigh in content. Lucifer chuckled as he watched the smile forming on your face.

Lucifer doesn’t want to admit it but when he saw you passing out, he got scared for a second.

The way your Apartment was full of those pheromones that made him go mad wasn't helping. His legs wobbled under him and he started to feel like he was on jelly.

But you are his top priority. The pheromones that escaped your body, he could survive this.

Lucifer knew this would happen. When he smelled it, you would start your heat soon. The smell was all over you. Being a hybrid has his highs and lows. 

When he got this one addictive whiff, he wanted to know how you may feel around him. He shakes his head, hoping these thoughts would escape. 

Your breathing was hard, and you clenched your thighs together to get some relief. The cold water was loosing it effects, and your vision grew hazier. 

“Oh lord what is happening with me?” You asked. It was uncomfortable how your body craved something inside of you. You never wanted to do those lewd things. Never. But you couldn’t control your mind nor body.

“You’re in heat.” Lucifer answered for you, and you looked up to him. “What is a heat?” Lucifer laid the water towel away from your forehead and dipped it into the cold-water bowl. “It’s a time in the month where you want to find a mate and breed? If I remember correctly. It’s quite common for sinner hybrids.” 

You groaned as he said breed. You felt disgusting for being turned on by the way he said it. Getting breed by him doesn’t sound that bad though. You shake your head furiously. ‘No Y/n. You’re a nun for a reason.’

You whimpered when Lucifer accidently brushed thigh. “Please.” You don’t know what came over you but the pain between your legs only grew and grew.

You needed help and maybe Lucifer could? With his magic perhaps? 

“My Lord Lucifer. Can you help me to get rid of this?” red blush creeped all over his face he turned towards you and rubbed his neck nervously. “Erm… Can you repeat that?”

Lucifer thought he wasn’t hearing correct. A hybrid nun wants his help with her heat from him. 

The pain only increased, and you breast started to swell more and more. “Help me Lucifer,” You groaned when your hole clenched around nothing, “please~.” Lucifer gulped down the knot that built in his throat. “I could help you sweetheart. But it comes with a price, are you willing to accept?” You nod furiously. You couldn’t care less about the price, this growing pain and built-up pressure needs to disappear.

If God could see what you're doing and what you're about to do with his son. God have Mercy on your soul.

Your head was cloudy and you couldn't think straight. You need something or someone. And Lucifer was there for you. Being social never was your thing, yet after years and years of only serving the Lord in the cathedral you kind of missed it.

Lucifer laid the towel back into the bowl. He crawled on top of you and stroked your waist. “It’s been a little while. So, I’m a bit rusty.” You tail swayed from excitement and your ears twitched to hear every noise he makes. The way his body pressed into yours was making your body much hotter. 

To relief some of the pain you pressed your heat onto Lucifer. Lucifers breathed hitched. He can’t believe he is doing this right now. You, the nun who served his father this long now trapped between his arms. 

Lucifer’s breathing rigged as he felt your heat vibrated against his and he lets out a brief growl. 

Lucifer watched you ever since you started to dig more information about him. He enjoyed as you started to convert to him and his beliefs. You didn’t even realize that you did. 

Your whine pulled him back at the situation that is happening. Your legs moved behind his legs, and he did nothing to stop you. With a hard press on his waist with your legs you feel his erection twitching on your clothed slit. “Fuck.” Lucifer huffed. You are driving him mad. 

He tried so hard not to fall in your warm hands. Yet the moment you stretched them out he fell right into them.

You started to hump his hips dry. Lucifer groaned as you moved onto his clothes shaft. He knows this is wrong. Using your body in such a weak state, in heat. 

He never stopped, neither did you. 

His fingers brushed down from your stomach to your pants. You sigh in content and raise your hip to meet his finger faster. When Lucifer started to circle your clit, you let out a long moan. But it wasn’t enough. No. You need him. You need his dick now and not later. 

“Lucifer.” He hummed, too stunned to speak. His body shook at the loss of control. He is losing against his wild thoughts. “I need you.” Lucifers finger rubbed at your entrance and soon enter.

Not enough. 

“No,” Lucifer stopped all he was doing and looked up to you, “I need you. I need you inside.” Lucifers eyes widen when you tug at his pants. “You’re playing with fire, darling.” Lucifer warned. But you don’t care. This pain and ache can only be fixed by him.

It’s what your mind is screaming at you, the only thought that was clear. The other part of your rational thinking was hazy. Not thinking about any consequences. 

“I don’t care, Lu.” Lucifer shuddered above you. The way you said his name was spreading a warmth in his whole body. Only fueling the fire, you started ignite. 

“Don’t you know that fire can burn you.” He stroked the strand that fell on your face back behind your ear. “Then let’s burn together.” Lucifers pants flew across the room and the rest of your clothes followed, till you two were naked.

“Are you sure?” He asked lowly in your ear, and you nod. “Destroy me.” You whispered into his ear. Lucifer breathed in heavy. He runs his shaft on your entrance up and down, coating his tip with his and your pre cum. Without any warning he entered slow, and you moaned at the sensation of being filled. 

Lucifer moved out and back in and with the next thrust he went deeper and deeper. Your whole body sang in content of finally being full.

God, you forgot how good sex is. 

Lucifers hands moved behind your head, and he pulls you into a Kiss. His thrust became more violent. His mouth left your as he explores your body with it. Bite marks and hickeys litter your body. You two switched position, your ass was in the air and your head pressed on the pillow. 

Lucifers dick was bullying in and out of you and his hand slapped against your booty cheek. A whine escaped you. Heavy breaths and skin slapping filled the apartment, and it smells like sex. Lucifers hand softly rubbed the red area on your booty cheek. The moans and groans grew on volume as you two reached your climax. 

The air was knocked out of you when Lucifer turned your body around. He wants to see your face when you two finish. 

“Bite me.” 

The sudden request flew out of your mouth like butter. Without any explanation Lucifer already knew what you mean. You want to mate completely with him.

You gasp when Lucifers teeth pierced through the skin between your shoulder and neck. For a second you only saw white. Lucifer groans your name, and you knew you two would cum any second.

Lucifer was ready to pull out, but you grabbed his hand, and he intertwined them. “Inside.” You breathed and he complies. 

....

You breathed in as you laid naked, exhausted, and covered in bite marks. “You’ll get me this meeting, right?” You turned around and watched how Lucifer puts on his shirt as he gazed at you with his glowing red eyes. He laughed bitterly as he buttons up his shirt. 

“Well… How can I say it correctly,” Lucifer tapped his claw on his jaw thinking about the correct sentence. “You’ll never leave me.” Frantically you sprung up. 

What? 

“What do you mean, your majesty?” Your eyes buried a hole in his head, yet Lucifer didn’t care. “We two are mated dummy. The heat will return in a few hours, maybe minutes. You can’t leave me nor can I.” 

This was a stupid Idea you two thought.

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[xwingsandohs]

‘Haunted Beauty’ | Spencer Reid

prompt: ‘Person A likes to sketch, and B catches them sketching, and asks what they are drawing. Person A had been drawing B, so they stutter out an excuse while slamming their sketchbook closed.’

word count: 2.3k

content warnings?: none. fluff

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When you reach eleven days without being called out to the field for a case, there’s a lull in the BAU that leaves everyone bored and irritable.

Morgan sits at his corner desk twiddling his pen, spinning on his chair and occasionally ripping up small pieces of paper to aim at someone’s (usually Reid’s) head. His aim is terrible, only because the small, rolled-up balls weigh so little, so you can watch with suppressed giggles until Reid finally notices his game. A hit to the head leads to an irritated “Hey!” - While you and Morgan laugh openly.

Morgan walks over to ruffle the messy hair of your colleague and picks up the small mess he’s left on the floor around him- Spencer shuts the small notebook he’d been working in at the disruption.

You spin around on your chair to see Emily not-so-subtly looking for cheap flights on her laptop- one of her favourite ways to guarantee her time-off is approved is by booking the trip before she even puts in the request. There’s no need for the efforts really, Hotch has never denied a PTO request since your jobs are so demanding, though it doesn’t hurt to be sure.

JJ comes up behind Emily waving an empty mug, asking if she wants another coffee too. She nods, groans into a “God, yes please.” - before JJ begins to ask about her vacation plans and where she hopes to go, pointing at her computer.

Coffee sounds like a fantastic idea, so you stand from your chair and do a lazy spin towards Morgan - “Yes please, mama.” - and taking the empty cup from Spencer’s extended hand too before he even gets the chance to ask. You smile at him warmly- and before you even get a chance to lean over and see what he’s been working on, he’s slammed his notebook shut again and said “Actually, I could do with a break too, I’ll join you.”

You nod and shrug acceptingly, and Spencer jogs across to JJ when she shouts to make enough for everyone, and grabs the two mugs from her hand as well. “Thanks, Spence.”

It takes you only a minute to prep the coffee, replacing the filter and dumping in some grounds and Spencer has swooped in to fill up the water jug before you get the chance. You thank him, and watch as he turns to the sink in the small kitchenette, flicks the tap on and watches as the water fills its container.

He’s wearing a comfortable-looking navy cardigan, it’s well-fitting and you’re acutely aware of how he’s allowed his own sense of style to come through in his working wardrobe over his years in the BAU. You allow yourself an indulgent look at your co-worker while his back is to you, grinning slightly as you enjoy the view.

“How’s the case files?” He asks as he finishes loading the machine and presses the button to let the coffee drip. His hands glide in their motions after so long of using the machine most days.

“I finished all my consults, now it’s just an endless pile of cold cases to keep me busy.” You drag out a few vowels as you speak, teetering close to yawning in exasperation but the easy nights at home have kept you well-rested.

“Me too.” He shrugs, gently pushing the tub of sugar closer to the mugs to use when the coffee has finished.

“What are you making notes on?” You ask, and lean your body comfortably against the countertop.

“Notes?” He scrunches his face.

“You’ve been scribbling in your notebook for the past half hour.” “Oh!”

Realisation washes over his face, and you wonder if there’s a reason for his unusually cloudy brain. You laugh just once and raise an eyebrow in confusion at him.

“Nothing in particular, just some musings to keep me busy.” He shrugs.

There’s an old metal tin sitting on the side, some cookies that an agent had made and brought in for everyone to take from. You reach across and open it, looking closely for the biggest one before taking it. You snap it in half and present the biggest piece to the man beside you.

“Thanks.” He utters, before taking an indulgent bite.

“What kind of musings are keeping Dr Reid busy on this fine Thursday afternoon?” You ask with a glint in your eye.

He shrugs, and begins to mumble through his cookie-filled mouth before pausing to actually swallow before he speaks. His action makes you giggle. “I was asked if I’d like to do a guest lecture on profiling for the FBI Academy and I’m not really sure if I want to do it.”

“Why not?” You ask sincerely.

“I think a lot of my stories about the job might change their mind about working here.” He smiles, you both laugh, and then he shakes his head. He’s not wrong. “No, I’m kidding. I’m just not sure if I’m ready for doing something like that alone, I think there’s a lot of pressure for lecturers to be engaging and informative, and I tend to go off on a tangent.”

“I love your tangents.” You reply honestly and with a smile, which he returns appreciatively, and a little rosy in the cheeks. “But I know what you mean, I’m a profiler for a living but I don’t think I could get on a stage and give a good lecture on it.”

“I, um,” He smiles wistfully and nods his head as he speaks, something he frequently does. “I’d love to run my own classes at the Academy or maybe Georgetown one day, but I’m not ready for that kind of responsibility yet.”

He’d be a fantastic professor, you know this. And you’re sure he’d have a lecture full of hopeful psychology fanatics just like you both once were. “Maybe a guest lecture is a good trial run, even if it’s a little out of your comfort zone.”

“Yeah.” He smiles, then begins to pour out the coffees. Each mug is almost identical- white or navy with some variation of the FBI logo on, but somehow he knows who’s is who’s, and leaves enough room for cream in cups that need it. “Which case would you choose?”

“For a guest lecture?” He nods. “Um…”

It’s difficult, while every case is important you know that a balance needs to be found in a case chosen for an Academy lecture- it can’t be too standard, it wouldn’t show off why your jobs are so important or might even struggle to keep the audience interested. But you can’t choose one of your worst cases either, some of them can be particularly heavy even for you all to think back on.

“Maybe the zodiac imitator?” You suggest with a shrug. “You can go through how you deduced it wasn’t the real zodiac, looking for messages in online articles, Garcia going through MENSA records, you could even talk about navigating all the reporters and public attention.”

“Y’know, I was thinking about that one.” He agrees and you tap his arm playfully. “The trainees always enjoy the imitator cases.”

“As much as you can enjoy this kinda thing, right?” You laugh humorlessly. Spencer knows everyone’s coffee preference off by heart, you know that, but it still makes you feel a little hot when he perfects your drink and holds it out to you.

“Maybe ‘interested in’ would be a better way to put it.” He corrects himself with a similar chuckle. You nod in agreement.

You both take a small moment to enjoy a sip of your drinks before taking the rest of the mugs to the members of your team- Morgan grins at Reid as he passes his mug, and JJ and Emily thank you when you bring their drinks too.

“What do you think,” JJ calls you by name. “Where would you go for a beach holiday?”

“Beach?” You say and laugh lightly. “Wherever Morgan’s not going.”

They both grin and laugh, and you hear Emily begin to say “Y’know I’ve seen those pictures of Morgan’s Jamaican resort…”

You head back to your own desk, you have Reid right in front of you and Morgan at a table across from you both, it makes for easy conversation and sharing of the sweet treats you bring in when you try to hide them from the rest of the team- more for you that way. Every so often you stop on your way to work and fill up a pick ‘n’ mix, you know by now that Spencer’s favourites are the chocolate jazzles and Morgan loves anything sour.

Emily shouts for Morgan to help her find a holiday destination, so he shakes his head playfully and taps you on the shoulder as he walks past you.

The coffee is perfect as you sip it, just slightly hot, not too sweet and not too strong. You cradle it between two hands as you step past your desk and stop in front of Spencer’s, leaning gently against the table. He looks up at you, mid sip, and raises his eyebrows to ask what you need from him.

“Can I see what you’ve been writing?” You ask innocently, pointing at the small brown book that sits central on his desk. A pen sticks out of the top of it to hold the page he was using, and he seems unusually shocked by your question.

You’re profilers, though Spencer is a surprisingly good liar, you have a feeling he wasn’t pondering a guest lecture for the Academy.

“There’s nothing important in there.” He shakes his head and instinctively goes to pull it out of reach.

“C’mon, Reid!” You giggle, putting your coffee cup down in a space on his desk. “I just wanna know what’s been keeping you occupied. You’ve been scribbling in it all afternoon, so secretively too.”

“I-I’m not-” He pauses, stuttering and puts his own mug down and out of reach before pulling the pen from between the pages of his notebook. He leaves the brown pad where it is. “being secretive, why do you want to see?”

“I’m just curious.” You say, bowing your head in apology. “I didn’t mean to pry, I’ll just leave you to it.”

“N-no, wait,” He stops you, seeing your small change in demeanour and immediately washing with guilt. Your body language changes just slightly, not quite closed off but a little less open and maybe a smidge of your own guilt for possibly upsetting him. He’s not upset, and he certainly does want you to be. “I’m sorry. I-I’m just, um,”

You turn back to him, offering another apologetic look. It’s not necessary, and he holds the notebook tightly in his hand, looking at it while he thinks. “Would you like to see?”

“Only if you want me to.”

“Why not?” He hums, gently passing the small brown book to you. You take it, just as gently, curling a finger into the gap created by the pen to hold the open page.

The brown book is worn on the edges, creased from opening so many times and his recent page is over half way through. You’ve seen him scribble in it frequently, and you’ve seen the way he slips it into his satchel at the end of the day- it’s important to him, you know that.

You open the page and it’s a drawing, a sketch in black biro. You’ve seen some of Reid’s drawings before- wavy lines, shrunken eyes and wiry hair, it’s his own unique style of illustration and you love his hidden passion for it. His drawings have been of imaginary characters, animals, even halloween decorations; they have a haunted aspect to them and you admire his talent for capturing the way he sees the world. This one is adorned with small wavy lines bouncing off the central figure.

“It’s-” This one you recognise, an unhidden smile and the shape of the hair. “-me. You drew me?”

“Um… yeah.” He smiles, but it doesn’t hide his nerves as he shifts in his chair while you look over the lines he’s made.

It’s today, you know the top you’re wearing today and one wiggly line for the chair you’ve been perched on. Your hair is styled as it is today, but you haven’t smiled so brightly today, you haven’t had the reason. That part, you realise, is from his memory. You like that he thinks of you as a happy person- the lines show that too, they add a bright, liveliness to the illustration of you.

There’s small flowers on the page adjacent- lavender, daisies, chrysanthemums, with what you assume is the scientific name underneath. They dot across the page like a printed pattern, but with the handwriting you know of Spencer all around. Underneath the drawing of you, though you’re not sure if it’s meant to describe both pages, it says “Beautiful”.

“Wow, Spence- I mean- Spencer,” You stutter over your words, grinning and feeling flushed at the thought of him spending his afternoon drawing you so dearly. “It’s amazing, you’re really good at art, y’know.”

“Thanks.” He replies sweetly, face unabashedly pink and smiling from ear to ear. “It’s um, really tempting to draw you when you’re sitting right across from me. I wanted to try and capture your smile but my drawings have given you more of a… haunting beauty.”

You don’t know what to say, still smiling and stuttering over nothing at all as you look over to him, to the drawing, then him again. His pride in his work makes his face light up in a way you rarely see on the job. “A-and Spence is fine, if you like.”

“Thanks for letting me see, Spence.” You say, dancing lightly around the last word, an affectionate nickname you know is only reserved for the special few. It feels good to be special to him. “I’ve never been very good at drawing.”

“I don’t think skill matters when you’re passionate about what you’re trying to recreate on the page.” He says with a simple smile, then bites down on his bottom lip to stop it from being too bright.

“You think so?” “Yeah.”

—

a/n: and just for funsies…