#on episode two and my third eye is wide open

[twoheadedoddity]

people of the world that think HH is the pinnacle of adult animation i am begging you to sit down and watch the midnight gospel

[huhniebowl]

Miss Me?

dominic fike x reader

warnings: nonee

a/n:...hey yall. IM BACK! i missed u pookey🥹.

i'm so sorry for my absence, i missed writing so much, but most of all i missed talking & interacting with u all. second to last year at uni is just really kicking my ass as of late. i've also had insane writer's block, and still do. my confidence as a writer has been at an all-time low, so i hope this short blurb does justice for u! ♥️

i finally have a bit of a breather, so i'm going to work my ass off on requests & hopefully gain my confidence back in the midst of it all.

i love u guys so so much, please enjoy! feels good to be back. :)

Thunder crackles outside, rain pelting against the windows in your room. You have a candle lit on your nightstand, next to your lamp that helps emit a warm glow to the room. It’s nights like these that feel content.

They feel safe. A steaming cup of hot cocoa, an oversized jumper, and a good book. Legs tucked to the side under your comforter. 

You’re only missing one thing. 

You just about hit the part you’ve been waiting for in your book when you hear shuffling outside the room, and then the door creaking open. Just on time. 

Dominic. 

He had locked himself in his in-home studio, two doors down from the bedroom. Despite his album drop in the summer, it’s October now and he’s already working towards his third. You admire his dedication and love for his craft, really you do, but he looks tired.

Between the take-off of his acting career, touring, and his new album, he’s consistently on the go. You push your reading glasses up and softly smile at him. 

“Hey, how’s it coming along?” Dom shrugs, closing the door behind him and pulling his hoodie overhead, throwing it on the floor. He smoothes down his band tee and wordlessly climbs into bed with you. He moves in close, swipes your book from your hands, and lightly tosses it on his nightstand. 

You grin, and open your arms wide when he maneuvers himself on top of you. You untuck your legs and spread them out to accommodate him. He lays between them, his cheek pressed snuggly against the space where your neck and shoulder meet. He lets out a breath and you feel his body melt against yours. 

“Missed you.” He mumbles, peppering kisses on your shoulder, then he moves up to your face. You laugh, his curls falling forward around his face and tickling your cheeks. You bring your arms around his neck, fingertips dipping under his shirt to run along the top of his back, before skimming them over the nape of his neck.  

“I’d miss me too if I locked myself in a room for.” You glance over at the wall clock, it's 1 a.m. 

“8 hours!? Jesus, Dom.” Dominic drops face-first onto your chest and curls up into you. One arm wrapped around your stomach, the other lying next to you.

“That’s like a regular workday.” He counters, and you roll your eyes, reaching for the remote to turn on the TV for some background noise.

It causes you to unwrap your arms from around him. You’re just barely able to click on a random episode of some adult cartoon before Dominic lets out a noise of protest. 

“No.” He mumbles. 

“It hasn’t even been 15 seconds.” You roll your eyes, but nonetheless, you put the remote on your nightstand, click off the lamp, and scoop your boyfriend back into your arms.  He says something sarcastic and witty into your shirt, but you don’t have in yourself tonight to rile him up. So you bring a hand up to his hair and rake your nails along his scalp.  

Having Dom this close feels surreal, despite it being years since you began dating. The steady beat of his heart against you. The sigh of contentment he lets go of when you hold him closer and squeeze. Even the grounding grip of his hand laced around yours has you slipping away.

He holds on to you as if you’d slip away from him. Like you’d leave him given the opportunity. That theory’s proved right when you lightly shift down to get yourself more comfortable and on instinct, his hold on you tightens. 

“I’m not going anywhere, baby.” You whisper, kissing his forehead. He hums, moving in closer. He’s so close you can feel his eyelashes wisp against your skin. It reminds you of a fairy. Delicate and soft. 

“Did you miss me today?” You remove your reading glasses and place them next to your cup. 

“I always miss you.” You start, rubbing a hand down his back. 

“How much?” 

“I missed you as much as I miss Abbott Elementry.” You feel him laugh, and shift so he can look up at you. 

“You know you’re probably never getting a season 3 right?” You roll your eyes, push his head back down, and purposely tug a little hard at a curl on the nape of his neck. 

“Fuck you.” He whines, flinching at the pull. You giggle, quickly smoothing your hand over where you pulled. It goes silent after that. 

Rick and Morty fills up the silence.

You start to believe that Dom has fallen asleep, but when you glance down, you see him staring at the rain hitting the window. There’s a faraway look in his eyes, you can almost see the cogs working in his head. 

“Are you happy with me?” He suddenly whispers, and it’s then you understand his silence. You do everything in your power to always make sure Dom knows how much you love him. How much he makes you happy.  How much he makes you smile and makes your life feel like it’s worth living.

Though, no matter how clear you make that, there are still those days when Dom gets in his head. Where his usual rationality, seems to diminish. But you’re always there. Ready to take it all away. 

“Hey.” You start, and the pad of your thumb rubs over his cheekbone. “I honestly don’t think there’s a word I can use that could describe how happy you make me. How safe and content I feel just knowing that I get to come home to you.” 

Dominic shuffles, and you feel his eyelashes flutter closed against your thumb. “I’m more than happy with you. And believe me, when I say, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” Dom deeply inhales, then breathes out. His hand squeezes yours, and you feel a kiss being placed on your chest, then your collarbone. One under your chin, then behind your ear. The top of your cheek, the corner of your eye, and finally, he presses a lingering kiss on your lips. 

You press the palm of your hand on the side of his face and push him deeper into you. Kissing him with an intensity you hope says a thousand words. 

He pulls away first and rests his forehead against yours. He’s silent for a moment, the both of you trying to catch your breaths. You see the side of his top lip quirk up, and he pulls back from your face.

“Maybe you’ll get your season three after all. I’ll make a few calls tomorrow.” You laugh out. It’s loud and comes straight from your belly. You mush his face to the side when he starts laughing with you. 

“Oh, fuck you.” 

[delimeats-000]

Just the Editor

summary: chris teasing the podcast editor takes a little turn

warnings: language, make outs, dry humping

requested.

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im editing a podcast for THE sturniolo triplets. this is big, like huuge. these guys got me through senior year of hs, and now im their editor, like wtf.

on the set beyond the wall that divides us i can hear the guys laughing with one another.

they’ve been recording for about 2 and a half hours. they should be done soon and come check the final product of the last pod i edited.

soon enough they finish their current recording and come to the editors office.

“Hey y/n/n.” nick says.

“Hey nick.” i get out of my chair to hug him and greet the other boys. “Im pretty much done if you guys wanna take a peek on the last episode.”

“Oh i have a meeting with madi and laura that matts gonna drive me to.” nick hesitates. “If chris is up for it he can stay and watch.”

“Yeah i can come pick him up after the meeting.” matt chimes in.

“Ok sounds good.”

no it doesn’t, two of three triplets gone leaving me with the third that i just so happen to be absolutely smitten over.

matt interrupts my thoughts, “Alright cool. We’ll be back.”

“Be good Chris.” nick laughs before heading out the door and closing it behind him.

i turn to face chris. i hope to god he doesn’t see how nervous i am.

“Ok so you ready?”

“Uhh yeah, you got pepsi?”

“Yeah there should be some in the fridge downstairs.”

“You wanna lead me over there? Please?”

“Of course.” i stand up and quickly walk to the foor opening it for him.

“No no, ladies first.” he winks.

fuck.

“Thanks.” wtf, THANKS, dumbass.

he laughs tho, ok cool, play it cool.

we walk down the stairs and into the kitchen in silence.

“Do you want one or two?” i say bent over in the fridge reaching for his pepsi. he steps close behind me, resting his hand on my lower back.

“Lemme get two, just in case.”

“ok.” i feel weak, his hand feels so firm and strong.

compared to the cold room i was in his hand is hot and the temperature change makes me shiver.

“Are you ok?” he asks as i stand up.

“Yeah just cold.”

“Here take my sweatshirt.”

before i can decline the offer he’s already taking it off revealing a wife beater that lifts halfway up his torso as the sweatshirt comes off. my eyes go wide and i dont get the chance to fix my expression before he notices the blush on my face.

he laughs softly, “Here goof, put it on.”

i take the sweater and put it on.

“You look good.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem, lets go watch the pod.”

“Yeah.”

my face is most definitely flushed, im hot, genuinely burning up and the sweater is making this worse now, but it smells so good. i cant take it off, not yet.

“Ok here you go.” i pass him my laptop and headphones so he can watch the pod on the loveseat in the office.

“Yo, you’re not gonna watch with me?”

“Uh, i guess i can.”

he scoots over and hands me the other headphone. he presses play. i cant even focus on the video in front of me, all i can think about is the fine ass man right next to me. shoulder to shoulder i swear i can feel his heart beat. there’s no way in hell im playing this cool. i just know im shaking. please god dont let him notice.

but he does anyways.

he pauses the video, “Is everything ok.”

i dont want to look him in the eyes, im gonna give it up. “Mhm, yeah.”

“Look at me.” he says quiet and gentle. but i dont look.

he grabs my face turning me towards him.

“I said look at me.”

he’s serious this time, his tone still quiet but now firm.

“Sorry.” i mumble.

“Shh, don’t apologize.” a smile grows on his face. “Whats on your mind?”

i shrug, struggling to make eye contact.

“Tell me, baby.”

im sure he could see the shock on my face because his subtle smirk turned into a soft chuckle.

“you’re pretty, chris.”

“You think so?”

i nod my head quickly.

“You’re beautiful, y/n.” he leans closer. “Can i kiss you?”

i nod once more before his lips land on mine.

he starts slow speeding up the kiss getting more rough. his tongue now caressing mine. he slowly runs his hand down to my neck and lets the other rest on my hip.

his sloppy kisses lead down my neck and i feel him leaving his mark. i let out a moan from the sharp pain, as i reach to grab his hair.

he bites harder making me let out another moan before he lets go, breathing hard he says, “Keep moaning for me, baby.”

“Yes sir.” i say as he goes back to making out with me.

i straddle his waist taking control grinding on his dick feeling the bulge grow larger.

“Fuck. Ke-keep going.”

now kissing down his neck and grinding against his hard cock, ive got him moaning for me.

then.

there’s a knock.

“Heeeyy.”

its nick. he opens the door to me struggling to get off chris. chris is completely unfazed as im absolutely embarrassed.

“Chris.”, matt laughs. “You didn’t.”

Nicks jaw completely dropped he turns around and walks out of the room.

Matt daps up chris before leaving too.

Chris stands up walking towards me, “Call me ok?”

i nod and he kisses my cheek before heading out the door.

i fall back onto the loveseat in utter disbelief.

“He forgot his sweatshirt.”

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dialogue key: nick - matt - chris - y/n

hope you like it, love you 🫶

EDIT: Pt 2 Out Now

[604to647]

Barón Tovar Takes a Wife

Third Movement (Presto agitato)

11K / Bridgerton AU Regency!Pero Tovar x fem!reader, a childhood best friends to lovers story

Summary: What do you do now that you realize you have feelings for the Barón?

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Pining and Angst. Semi public kissing, groping and sex. Someone comes in his breeches 🤷🏻‍♀️. F!oral, fingering, thigh riding, unprotected PiV. Pet names (spanish), Pero catches reader and gives her a little twirl once.

A/N: I'm sorry for the word count 😅😅 I feel like the pacing of this final part is kind of like season 1 of Bridgerton where it was like 5 episodes of flirting and then SMUTSMUTSMUT 🤭🤭 Just wanted to give our Spaniard and his Dulce a HEA, that's all! Please please correct my Spanish!! Google won't be offended! Thank you for reading along and hope you're looking forward to Season 3 of Bridgerton next week!

Series Masterlist 🎼 First Movement 🎼 Second Movement 🎼

The following morning you wake to your ladies’ maid gently shaking you and a massive headache.  Barely able open your eyes, so puffy from crying, you’re sure you gave her a terrible fright.  After asking for and drinking some water, you try using the cool glass to depuff your eyes and alleviate the pounding in your head, but no difference is made; you continue to feel positively awful.  Daphne comes into your room at the behest of the maid and immediately sees you’re much too unwell to entertain visitors today; it’s an easy decision to send all your suitors away and have them come back when you’re better.  When you start to apologize for causing a fuss, she immediately shushes you and insists you get rest - she will have the maids bring up some soothing tea.  You lay back down, exhausted, and drift off in the middle of telling her how much you love her.

---

Pero steps into Bridgerton House just as several young men are leaving; as they brush past him, he spots Colin speaking with a maid in the main foyer.

“Tovar! It’s been ages – how have you been?” Colin beams when he sees his friend. 

In truth, Pero is here to see you; he can’t quite get over the look of distress on your face when you left him last night.  Not for the first time, Pero silently curses Lord Ridlington for having sent over women to his house unsolicited last night, his apparent idea of a prank.  Leaving the women to themselves in a waiting room, Pero had been discussing with his butler the next course of action when you had surprised him beneath his window.  After you left, he made the proper arrangements for the women to leave discreetly, and had gone to bed thinking of you as usual. 

“I’ve been well, thank you.  Hope things have been going well here?  Have today’s suitors started their visits earlier than usual?” He gestures to another three men now descending the stairs and making towards the exit in an orderly line.

“No, my Lord,” the maid explains, “Miss is ill today.  Her suitors have been sent away and asked to return when she has recovered and is ready to receive visitors again.”

“Ill?!” How could you have taken ill when he just saw you?  Instantly Pero admonishes himself for having kept you standing outside last night - the night chill must have disagreed with you.  “Please,” he begs, “take me to see her.”

The maid looks panic stricken.  Surely this Spanish nobleman must understand the impropriety of a man being let in to the bed chambers of an unmarried woman.

Colin diverts her attention, “Marie, it will be okay.  Barón Tovar is an old family friend of the Count’s.  There is nothing improper afoot.  The door will remain open and you and I shall both be but a step away.”

With Mr. Bridgerton’s assurance, Marie the maid leads the two men to your door and opens it wide before stepping back to wait outside with Colin.  Pero walks into darkness, the curtains still drawn to help you sleep and ease the pain of your headache, but your magnetic pull leads him to you with no issue.

Kneeling by your bedside, Pero says your name softly, but you do not stir.  He goes to push aside some hair that’s fallen across your forehead and is alarmed when it feels hot to the touch; using the back of his hand to check your forehead and cheeks, he finds you clammy and feverish.  Shouting for Marie, both Colin and the maid rush in to Pero’s call, “Please find the Duchess!  Her friend is running a fever and a doctor needs to be called.  And please bring me a basin of cold water and a clean washcloth at once!”

Daphne rushes in minutes later to find Pero dabbing your forehead with the wet cloth that Marie procured, “Oh no!  I saw her this morning and knew she was unwell, but I did not think to check for a temperature!”

Shaking his head softly, Pero entreats the Duchess, “Do not blame yourself, your Grace.  Likely this morning she was not feverish when you saw her.  Please, has a doctor been called?”

The Duchess nods tearfully, grateful for Pero’s kind words and feeling a kinship with this man who clearly shares her tremendous concern for your well being. 

When the doctor arrives, Daphne stays in the room and gives Pero a nod of reassurance; he leaves begrudgingly though he knows you are in safe hands with the Duchess.  Hovering impatiently never more than a step away from the door, Pero breathes a sigh of relief when he overhears the doctor say that your temperature is no longer increasing, and that if kept cool and comfortable, your fever should easily break over the next day or two.  He vows to ensure both conditions are met to the best of his abilities until the moment you awake.

After the doctor leaves and Daphne has gone in search of a servant to fetch your father, Pero stays by your side, continuously stroking your hair gently and dabbing your hot skin with a cool cloth.  Every time Daphne passes by the open door of your room, she looks in to find Pero watching over you, brows furrowed, eyes full of concern and worry.  Sometimes the Duchess will see Pero’s lips moving, speaking gently to you - though she never hears the words he says, she can tell they’re heartfelt.  It becomes crystal clear to her that two weeks ago she had simply asked the Barón the wrong question; instead of “Do you intend to court her?”, she should have asked Pero: “Do you love her?”  The answer obvious. 

Pero never leaves your side, not when the Bridgerton women visit, or even when your father comes.  He just tucks himself into the corner of the room until their visits are over, as if afraid to leave you.  When it’s just him and you alone, he tries his best to make sure you’re comfortable, arranging your blankets nicely and propping up your pillows so that your sleep is restful and serene.  He requests that cool water and clean cloths are at his constant disposal, and makes sure to dab your face, neck, and decolletage at consistent intervals in order to keep your temperature down.  And while he does so, Pero continuously talks to you, encouraging you to get better, coaxing you back to him. 

He calls you carino, hermosa, princesa, mi reina, mi amor, and all the other endearments he doesn’t ever let himself call you save for in his head.  He lavishes you with compliments and words of praise that he's never allowed to slip past his lips - how perfect you are, how sweet and smart, that he doesn’t know anyone else like you and that your cheerful demeanor and melodic voice are the only things that can ever make him smile.  He tells you how he hasn’t smiled as much as he has since he reunited with you at the Danbury ball in years.  He confesses that every time he holds you while you dance, he has trouble letting go when the music ends, and when he sees another man take your hand and spin you around the room, he has to hold himself back from physically stepping in and pulling you back into his arms.  He tells you that he finds you beautiful and intoxicating, and describes every last inch of you that he can’t stop dreaming about, but lingers the longest in his description of your eyes and the richness of expressions they make that leave him breathless.  He tells you all these things because if he doesn’t say them out loud, he thinks he will burst from having to hold his feelings in all the time.  He tells you these things because he knows you will never hear them.

As the doctor predicted, the fever breaks late the following day and you start to stir shortly after.  Blinking your eyes open slowly, they come into focus to your father’s worry lined face and you watch as it cracks with relief, “Welcome back, dearest.  How do you feel?”

Not sure you can trust your voice right now, you give your father a small smile and nod when he says he needs to get the doctor.  In the few minutes you have alone, you try to get your bearings; the last thing you remember is waking to a terrible headache and falling back asleep after Daphne told you she would be sending your suitors away.  You swear you have vague memories of Pero’s voice and soft touch, but that couldn’t have been real.  Pero.  Oh.  You remember now the reason for having woken up before feeling empty and sad, but you don’t have too long to linger on it because your father returns swiftly with the doctor.

After declaring you well on your way to a full recovery, the doctor leaves you with your father; the Count, looking like the weight of the world has been lifted off his shoulders, hugs you tightly and clasps his hands tightly over yours, “I am so glad you are better, dearest.  Now, will you please tell your suffering father what is troubling that heart of yours?”

You’re shocked.  How could your father know about your feelings for Pero when you only realized them a few nights ago?  Your surprise must be written all over your face because the Count gently explains, “My dear, in the entirety of your life, you have only ever had such a fever twice, both times due to crying yourself sick from heartbreak.  The first time was when you were a young girl and I read you The Little Mermaid - the ending saddened you to tears.  The other was when we were leaving Portugal and I didn’t let you keep the stray puppy you had been feeding for a month.  This is how I know something ails your heart terribly.  Please.  Tell your father so he can help you.”

Your heart swells with affection for your father - he has always been the most loving and caring man, attentive to your feelings and understanding of your nature.  There is no one on this earth who you trust so whole heartedly and with whom you feel so safe.  Except for Pero, you suddenly realize. 

You tell your father everything.  You tell him about how Pero lets you be yourself without reservation, and that with him you don’t need to temper down your enthusiasm for your interests or make your experiences seem smaller than they are.  How he encourages you in everything you do and makes you feel like you’re capable of anything and everything.  He respects you and approaches you with kindness, always making you feel safe and taken care of.  That he makes you laugh all the time.  And that you’ve taken Pero and his wonderfulness for granted, not realizing just how rare and valuable all his amazing qualities are because if you had you would have figured out earlier that you’re completely in love with him.  You cry softly and confess to your father that your heart is broken because you’re in love with a man who will never see you more than a childhood compatriot, and that you may never get over this sad truth.

The Count listens to you sympathetically, and when you’re finished, he simply tilts his head thoughtfully and asks, “How do you know he does not care for you in the same manner?”

You can hardly tell your father that you snuck out of Bridgerton House and interrupted Pero when he had company over, so you have to cite another reason you’re so certain of how Pero feels about you.  But you find yourself struggling to come up with any concrete examples or reasoning that satisfy even yourself; all you can say is, “Because he wishes for me to find a husband.  He encourages me to do so.  I’m simply the daughter of his father’s friend.”

Something like bemusement dances over your father’s face, “It seems to a me that a man who thinks of you as simply the daughter of his father’s friend would not have purchased my shares in the fleet.”

You’re absolutely stunned.  Pero purchased your father’s shares?  But why?  There was no inherent income from the investment, the dividends benefitted you and your future children only, “Why would Pero do that?”

“You will have to ask him yourself, dearest.  It shouldn’t be too long before he visits himself now that he’s likely heard you’re awake.  He had not left your bedside for nearly two days and it was only at my insistence that he let me sit vigil so he could go home and change his clothes.”

Again, you’re astonished; is it possible that your vague recollections of Pero’s voice and gentle touches while you were ill are real? 

“I will say, when I asked him the same question of why, his answer was that he did not want the hard work you and I put into our happy venture to be squandered.  He said he knew that would break your heart.”

It’s true, it would.

“With his experience, I know the fleet would be in good hands.”

Nodding, you have to agree.

“… and you would be in good hands.”

You look up to see your father looking at you with an expression you can’t quite place.  You’re about to ask him about it when you hear a quiet knocking and you look over to see Pero standing in the open doorway, as if you had summoned him with your conversation.

“My apologies, I do not mean to interrupt.  I thought I heard your voice and wanted to see if you were awake,” Pero looks tired, but hopeful.

The Count waves him in and gets up, whispering in your ear, “Be kind to him, dearest.  The man has been in anguish and has not left your bedside for more than a few minutes these past two days.”  Kissing you on the cheek, he tells you he will go and find the Duchess to give her the good news of your recovery if the doctor has not yet done so himself.  After he pulls away, you notice for the first time that your room is filled with peonies, every flat surface covered with the most splendid displays in the prettiest pastel colours – your heart soars at the sight.  When Pero takes your father’s place in the chair across from you, neither of you notice that the Count closes the door behind him.

“Dulce, how are you feeling,” asks Pero with as much feeling as you’ve ever heard from him.

You tell him you’re much better, and that although no one has said so explicitly, you suspect that much of your recovery is due to his diligent care and watch over you.

“It was nothing, Dulce.  I was worried about you.  I am glad you are okay now,” he says, relief evident in his voice.

“Thank you for taking care of me.  I really don't know what I have done to deserve your kindness, Pero.  And not only these past two days when I’ve taken ill, but over the entire course of this season – I do not think I have ever properly thanked you for being there for me, supporting and encouraging me, and bringing me such peace and joy so that I did not buckle under the pressure of my debut.  Please allow me to do so right now.  Thank you, Pero,” you look at him with adoration and admiration, pouring all your feelings out and disguising them as simple gratitude.

“It has been my absolute pleasure, truly.  I am so very proud of the woman you have grown up to be: beautiful, smart, funny, and so, so very caring.  You are one of kind, Dulce – and the lucky man who marries you needs to know just how special you are.  There isn’t anyone else who has your vibrant spirit, your sweet disposition, your fun-loving heart.  He needs to know and nurture all these wonderful qualities so that your light never goes out,” Pero espouses your virtues and merits with eyes fixed upon yours, wishing he could express just how deep his admiration truly runs.

To say you’re affected would be an understatement, and it makes you bold and brave.

“Pero, I cannot tell you how much your kind words mean to me.  I have never known a man to be more genuine and earnest that you; when you say something, you mean it.  I find you so very thoughtful this way.  And in other ways as well – I know, for example, it must have been you who filled this room with my favourite flowers.”  Pero nods indulgently and you carry on, “… and I know you purchased the shares in the fleet from my father.  Thank you, Pero.”

Pero is surprised, although he had not asked the Count to keep the sale from you, he didn’t expect you to know already.

You’re looking at him with an expression he won’t let himself name, eyes soft, almost pleading, “Why would you do something so generous, Pero?”

Pero remains quiet, as if wrestling with how he wishes to answer and you wait patiently, not sure what to expect.

“The owner of the shares has custody of a great gift.  The fleet is an impressive venture - it has potential to do considerable good in this world, and much of that is thanks to you and your father’s dedication and contributions – the holder of these shares cannot squander that opportunity; he needs to honour you and your father’s legacy by carrying on the good work you’ve started together.  But that in and of itself is not the gift.  The man who holds these shares is also given the gift of being able to take care of you, to have a small hand in ensuring a prosperous future for you and your children.  I… could not take the risk that someone who did not understand the honour of this charge would hold these shares.  I hope you can understand and not think it imprudent of me.”

You don’t know what to say.  Pero is so generous and considerate – how could he ever think you would view his gesture as anything but deeply caring?  Unsure of your silence, Pero attempts to lighten the mood, “This way, I can still be in your life.  I can come to see you when I need to discuss matters of the fleet.”

“Pero, you’re my friend!  You do not need to have a business pretense to see me.”

He shakes his head sadly, “You will be married, Dulce.  Your husband would not like a man like me visiting his wife frequently.”

“A man like you?” you’re not sure what he means.

“A man who looks at you the way I look at you.”

You inhale sharply, hardly allowing yourself to breathe, “And how do you look at me, Pero?”

“Like you are the sun, Dulce.  Like everything you touch is made brighter and better from the light of your smile and the warmth of your sweet laugh.  As if under your care and attention, everything and everyone, including me, grows – stronger, brighter, better.  I look at you like I dream about the graceful notes of your voice every night and wish to hear your melody of thoughts and opinions on all things.  I look at you like I am hypnotized just by the sway of your hips and even the lilt of your fingers.  Everyday, I’m ever more enchanted with the tilt of your head and curve of your mouth.  I look at you like I could never get enough.”

“And what if I don’t want that?”

“Then I will stay away, mi reina.  Anything you wish,” though crushed, Pero knows that he would do whatever you asked.

“No, Pero, you misunderstand.  What if I don’t want a husband who does not want you looking at me like that?  What if I want you to look at me like that?  What if I do not want a husband who isn’t you?”

“Dulce…” Pero’s heart has leapt into his throat, he can hardly allow himself to believe what he’s hearing, “… you do not know what you’re saying.  You would not want me for a husband.”

You smile kindly, “And why not?”

Pero looks at you so sadly it breaks your heart, “You would not wish to separate from your friends and leave England to be mistress of a lowly Barón’s estate in a foreign land where you know no one and do not speak the language.  Not when you have suitors with much grander fortunes, with estates nearer to your friends, and where you and your children would grow up in the style befitting the daughter of a British Count.  You would not want a husband who is never home and spends more time on the seas and in far off lands than he does on home soil; one you never see and for whom you would worry all the time, not knowing where he is or what he is doing.”

“Would you not be willing to take me with you on your travels, Pero?”

“Of course, I would,” Pero never second guesses his answer.

Heart still aflutter at Pero’s romantic declarations, you press ahead, determined.  “Well.  It seems then that no one would be better suited to be my husband than you!  You must know me well enough to know that I do not care for grand fortunes and estates, and my dear father and now you have made sure that I will never be financially dependent on any husband.  What I care for is freedom and adventure!  And exploration and not being kept from the joys this life has to offer because I am a woman, or just somebody’s wife.  As for my friends, I can always visit!  And I am fortunate enough that the strength of our bonds is not dependent on having to see each other constantly.  Honestly!  This would not be the first time in my life I have gone to live in a foreign country where I do not speak the native tongue – it’s practically second nature to me now!  But I can see how it would be useful to be able to fluently converse with servants and locals - I suppose I would just have to commit myself to learning Spanish.  That is,” you’re suddenly embarrassed upon realizing that Pero hasn’t actually asked you to be his wife, and instead, you’re espousing all the reasons you find the match to be agreeable when he himself hasn’t expressed any desire for it, “if you would wish to have me.” 

“Dulce, all I have done since the moment I laid eyes on you at the Danbury Ball is wish to have you.  Do you know how hard it was for me to see you entertaining all those suitors when I was certain none of them could ever appreciate you for even half the wonderful person you are?  None of them had any idea what a smar-“

You crash your lips to his, and after the initial surprise, Pero kisses you back with the fervent need that’s been building in his soul the past few months.  Throwing your arms around him, you open your mouth to his just as his hands pull you flush to his chest; it’s the warmest, hungriest first kiss to have ever been kissed.  Your mind having only recently caught up to your heart, and Pero’s constrained feelings finally being set free, your tongues press together over and over, spilling all the unspoken words between the both of you.  On instinct you fist Pero’s shirt and pull him down with you onto the bed, Pero’s eyes darkening as he climbs on top of you, placing one knee in between your legs while keeping the other on the ground.  You finally run your hands through his soft curls and it feels as incredible as you had imagined two nights ago; you both moan softly at the sensation.

“Dulce, you make the prettiest noises…”

You purr softly at Pero’s praise, leading him to groan deeper into your mouth and you feel the hand that isn’t braced on the pillow next to your head start to skate up your side, landing near your breast and tentatively drawing circles on the underside of your plush curves with its thumb. You arch into Pero’s hand to encourage him to touch you, and he responds as he always promised he would if he had the chance which is to give in to your every desire.  Groping your breast and finding your nipple between his fingers, Pero rolls and pinches so expertly that you can’t help but writhe beneath him.  He shifts to kiss down your neck as he continues his attentions on your peak and when his knee brushes your throbbing centre, you gasp loudly before covering your mouth with your hands.  Still breathing heavily, the two of you giggle and smile stupidly at each other in the tender moment.  Pressing his forehead against yours, Pero whispers, “Mi reina, we should stop, I still need to ask your father for your hand.  Tomorrow, I am sure he will come here for breakfast and I will ask to speak with him after.”

Looking deep into is eyes, you nod; you know Pero’s right, though there’s a warmth radiating from your very being that wishes to invite scandal and tell him to never stop touching you, knowing by the way he’s making you feel right now that it would be worth it.

Not without regret, Pero pulls himself off of you and stands; after he helps you sit up, Pero tips your chin with his finger so you look at him squarely.  A seriousness takes over his face, an expression he usually reserves for others, “Are you sure you want me, mi amor?  You have so many suitors, so many options.”

Your eyes shine with sincerity and so much softness for this man that does not seem to understand just how much you love him.  You vow to spend the rest of your days showing him, “There are no options when there’s you, Pero.”

You can’t help but shriek a little in laughter as Pero falls on you and crushes his lips to yours, pinning your body to your bed with his large and solid frame.  Kissing you over and over, Pero punctuates his affection with barely strung together words of love - So perfect.  So perfect.  Can’t believe it.  How.  How did I get so.  Damn.  Lucky.  Beautiful. Perfect girl.

Right before your giggles can turn into moans, a knock on your door freezes you both.  The noise is quickly followed by the Duchess’ slightly amused voice, “Is everything okay?  We have brought up dinner.  Please let me know when it is decent for us to come in.”

Giving you one last peck on your lips before chuckling lightly, Pero pulls you up and whispers, “Tomorrow,” before going to open the door for Daphne.

The next morning you find Pero waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs when you come down.  Checking quickly to make sure there aren’t any lingering servants, you step off the third to last step and fling yourself into his arms.  Pero catches you easily and gives you a twirl before placing you gently on your feet, then places a less gentle kiss to your lips.  With a few hurried murmurings of devotion - I missed you.  You look beautiful. I still can’t believe you’re mine - you break apart and head to breakfast.

When the two of you enter the dining room, you’re greeted exuberantly by your friends congratulating you on your recovery and expressing their delight that you’re well enough to rejoin them.  Your father hugs you and you think you detect a knowing smile gracing his face, but you’re too soon seated with platters of food being offered and pushed towards you for you to be sure.  It’s a happy occasion but also slightly awkward – you’re seated next to Pero, but you have to pretend that nothing has changed between the two of you.  Trying to cheerfully chat with your father and friends, you find yourself unable to give the conversation your full attention because you trying with all your might to hold in the most wonderful news of your life, and with it, your overflowing happiness.  It doesn’t help that Pero finds increasingly mischievous ways to secretly touch you throughout breakfast: foot reaching over to playfully nudge yours, gently squeezing your thigh under the table.  When he purposefully brushes his hand down your arm and over yours in order to reach for the butter dish, you gasp in surprise - his touch out in the open sending a warm thrill through to your heart.  In response to your friends’ concerns, you have to lie and say you may still be feeling fatigued, and Pero, ever the menace, pats your shoulder affectionately and reminds you not to overexert yourself before buttering his scone with a smirk.

After your father finishes his meal, you nervously watch Pero hastily shove his last piece of food into his mouth before asking the Viscount for use of his office, and entreats your father for a word.  Finishing your own breakfast as quickly as you can without drawing suspicion, you find your way to the closed office doors and pace outside impatiently.  Try as you may, you cannot make out any of what is being spoken in the office, even when you press your ear up to the door.  After what feels like an eternity, the door opens and Pero exits; not the least bit surprise to find you outside, he whispers in your ear as he walks by, “Your father wishes to see you now, Dulce.  Come find me afterwards.  I will be upstairs writing a letter.”

The Count welcomes you into the office with open arms and you immediately fly into your father’s loving embrace.  As he continues to envelope you in the warmth of his joy, he chuckles, “Well, dearest, I think your old father deserves some acknowledgement for being right.”

Pulling away from him, you look at the face that’s so much like your own, eyes crinkled in mirth and a smile big enough to rival yours, “I concede, Father - you were right.  And I have never been so happy to have been wrong!”

Your father’s already expressive eyes shine with an extra brightness, “All I have ever hoped for is your happiness, my dear.  Pero is a good man, like his father before him and he has given me every assurance that he will cherish and take care of you the way you deserve.  I shall rest easily knowing that you will be in his capable hands… and he in yours.”

What did you ever do to deserve such a brilliant father who has given you the most wonderful life?  You ponder this as you walk up the stairs after telling your father that you love him and saying goodbye for the day.  You suspect you’ll never discover a satisfactory answer, but can only hope you can one day bestow the same unconditional love and support upon your own children.

You find Pero sitting at the corner desk in the drawing room where some of the Bridgertons are relaxing: Eloise and Colin reading, Francesca tinkering at the piano forte, Daphne looking over some correspondence of her own.  Approaching him silently, you look over his shoulder and whisper, “Mi rey, to whom are you writing?”

Smiling at your Spanish endearment of choice, Pero responds without looking up from his task, “I am writing my king, Dulce, and asking him for his permission to marry.”

Ah right, you consider that the Count could very well be penning a similar letter to the queen at this same moment, “What happens if he refuses, Pero?” 

“Then I abscond with my new bride and we live like pirates on the run,” smiles Pero, still not looking up.

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” you grin.

Pero finally sets his soft gaze upon you, “Nothing can be so bad if you are by my side, mi reina.”

He looks at you with such devotion and affection, you can’t help yourself - you cup his perfect face in your hands and bend down to kiss him.  Pero returns your soft, gentle kisses with his own, nothing urgent, nothing hurried – just a moment of tenderness that couldn’t have been restrained.

You don’t break apart even when you hear the successive gasps of your friends or even when Colin cheers, unable to part from Pero’s lips even a moment sooner than you need to.  When the two of your finally look up, it’s to the sight of the Duchess standing with her hands on her hips and a beaming smile on her face, “Do you two have something to tell us?”

You and Pero attend all of the remaining season events as a happily engaged couple.  Pero, no longer scowling all by his lonesome against the wall, but standing tall and proud next to you; his hand laced through yours or comforting and firm on your lower back as the two of you receive congratulations from the ton.  He drinks in the jealous looks from your former suitors and inwardly chuckles a little at the conceding grumbles from the mamas who proclaim with surprise that they didn’t know he had been looking for a wife.  His stoic countenance cracking just a little at their poorly concealed scandalized faces when he replies that he hadn’t been.  For your part, you don’t notice any of this; you only have eyes and ears for Pero.  Your face hurts from smiling so much – it’s all you can do to tear your eyes away from your handsome fiancé in order to respond politely to the questions you receive from curious members of the ton.

You still dance every dance, floating on air as you traverse the floor in the strong arms of your dashing Spaniard; now that there is no danger of some other man whisking you away from him for the next dance, Pero quite enjoys the dance floor.  He holds you closer than he probably should, chests touching and faces so close that the gentle fan of your breath curls over his lips; his hands find themselves placed low on your back during the waltz, dipping scandalously close to where he really wants them to be, itching to squeeze the plush globes of your ass.  If anyone was to make a comment to you about it, you would giggle and simply say that your fiancé is a passionate man.

And he is.  A passionate man, that is.  Under his grave and steely visage, Pero is a man who yearns for and craves the woman he loves, hungry for you at all times.  Such a man is not made of infinite restraint - the limits of Pero’s self control having already been sorely tested for the past few months.  As such, whenever an opportunity to escape the rigid formality of these events would arise, Pero wasted no time whisking you away for himself.

At the Grand Picnic, he steals you away to a secluded spot in the gardens where he proceeds to kiss you so fervently and passionately that you actually get dizzy.  He presses you against the base of some winged sculpture and hungrily licks and sucks down your neck, all while you cover your mouth with your hands, hoping against hope to contain your moans and soft whimpers.  The stone angel watches from its perch as Pero trails his mouth down past your collar towards the swell of your breasts, already rapidly rising and falling.  Pressing feather light kisses to the tops of your breasts, Pero drinks in your breathy giggles when his scruff tickles you, before diving in devilishly, lapping at your ample curves and the valley in between.  As you start to pant from arousal, Pero finds himself most ardently wishing that your tits would break free of their fine silk confines and spill into his mouth. 

A la mierda, he thinks and glides his tongue into the sliver of space between your dress and skin, dragging it across your chest until he hits your hardened nipple; having found his prize, Pero dives in, straining with his tongue to stroke your peak harder and faster.  When he leverages enough space with his chin to wedge in between your soft skin and the fabric of your dress, Pero takes your breast into his mouth and sucks while groping your other breast with his hand, finding the twin nipple already straining against your gown, aching to be played with.  The combined sensation has you grabbing at Pero’s hair and pressing him closer to you; with your hands now otherwise occupied, your gasps and moans spill unfiltered from your open mouth.  The obscene sounds Pero pulls from you must start to carry, because soon you hear voices getting nearer to where you and Pero have now frozen, his mouth buried in your chest; he places one last chaste kiss to tops of each of your breasts before the two of you giggle and run hand-in-hand out of the gardens.

At the Opera, Pero secures a box on the second mezzanine for the two of you.  With most of the ton preferring the orchestra seats or boxes closer to the stage, you find yourselves alone in the secluded alcove nearer to the house balcony.  Once the lights dim and the overture starts, Pero takes your hand in his and you lean on his shoulder, relaxing into his closeness.  By the time the audience is enjoying the soprano’s heart-breaking aria in the third act, Pero has his left arm thrown around you and the knuckles of his right hand are ghosting over the front of your panties where he finds them already damp from want. 

“Keep your eyes on the stage, Dulce,” he whispers in your ear as his thumb draws slow circles over your clit.  You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from crying out, trying with all your might not to let your whole body react to Pero’s teasing lest it draws the attention of the opera house attendees sitting on the balcony or in the boxes on the opposite side of the hall.

Pero is patient.  And thorough.  He takes an inordinate time exploring the shape of your pussy - running his thumb then fingers over the outline of your slit and the hardening form of your clit, eventually cupping your mound and letting you grind down on his palm to give you some of the friction you so desperately seek.  He toys with you over the fabric of your underwear for the remainder of the 3rd act until your panties are completely soaked through.  Only once the 4th act is underway does he slip his hand down the front of your underwear and start to run his forefinger through your folds.

“Pero…” you sigh, spreading your legs wider to allow him more freedom of movement.

“Doing so good for me, mi amor,” he whispers back, continuing his smooth, teasing strokes, dragging your sticky arousal through the valleys of your seam and trailing it up to your clit, spreading it over and around your bundle of nerves before returning his fingers to your wet core.  He repeats this over and over, alternating the speed and pressure of his fingers, never letting you settle into a complacent state.  Quite the opposite – you feel like your body is on fire. 

Willing yourself to breathe through your nose as evenly as you can, you focus on the soprano’s finale song before the ensemble gathers for the finale; just as the singer hits the high notes of her solo with a warm vibrato, Pero pushes a finger straight into your heat and you whine in harmony with her.  Slowly he pumps his finger in and out of your tight hole, nearly losing control with the way you clench as he drags along your warm warms; Pero feels you hum around him as pleasure you’ve never felt before radiates throughout your entire body.  The squelching sound of Pero working your cunt are thankfully masked by the musical drama unfolding on the stage, and Pero uses the opportunity to ask you if you’re ready for another. 

Seeing you nod as subtly as you can, Pero murmurs, “Good girl,” before adding a second finger to join the first.  Oh.  You’re so full.  It’s a stretch, but the sting pairs perfectly with the devastating pleasure now coursing through your veins as Pero slowly drives his fingers into you.  Staying with a slower pace until you start dripping down his wrist, Pero’s fingers now start to thrust faster, keeping tempo with the musical build that the ton in the orchestra is enjoying, clueless to your lascivious activities above them.

When Pero presses his thumb to your slippery clit, you surge forward and grab onto the balcony banister for stability, nearly in danger of drawing the attention of unwanted eyes.  Refusing to ease up in his efforts on your cunt, Pero continues to push you closer and closer to your high, his fingers never faltering from their punishing pace until you come and cry out in tune with the finale’s final chorus.  While the rest of the audience applauses when the curtain falls, Pero’s praise is only for you - purring that you did so good for him and kissing you gently as his slips his slick covered hand back into his glove. 

At the Hastings Ball, you’re the one feeling bold.  Having arrived at your friend’s estate a week prior to help the Duchess with preparations, you familiarize yourself with the grounds and all the intimate, secret corners perfect for intimate, secret things.  Once all the guests have arrived and the festivities have begun in earnest, you sneak off with your fiancé, leading him down a hidden staircase into the Duke’s impressive wine cellar.  With all of tonight’s refreshments having already been pulled from inventory, you know no one will be coming down here during the ball; you’re free to touch, feel and love on Pero in all the ways you desire.  Once Pero realizes the amount of privacy you’ve been afforded, he’s like a dog unleashed, stalking and cornering you into a wall with a growl, sniping at your neck with his teeth and lips, pawing at your soft curves already on display for him in your pretty ballgown. 

Here in the cellar, while you still cannot be loud, but you don’t have to be quiet – the cavernous room echos your quiet moans and Pero’s deep grunts like a soundtrack of pleasure that’s percussed by heavy breathing as the two of you drown in one another.  Lips attached to yours, but eyes kept open to take in your lustful expression, Pero spies an unopened crate out of the corner of his eye and smiles against your mouth, “Come here, Dulce.  Let me show you something.”

After letting him lead you to the crate, you allow Pero to help you on top before scooting you back so your legs no longer dangle over the edge.   Grinning, you ask playfully, “What, pray tell, do you wish to show me, Barón?”

“Want to show you how I’m going to make my pretty wife feel good every day we are married,” Pero looks at you, eyes dark, as his starts to ruffle up the many layers of your dress.  You giggle as his pushes through the yards of fabric with a feigned annoyance, bunching it up for you to hold against your chest like an overstuffed pillow.  Once Pero is satisfied with his unfettered access, he gently pushes you to lean back on your elbows, hands still laid prettily on your pillow of dress skirts, eyes watching your handsome fiancé’s movements.  Pero leans over the edge of the crate and rubs your silk stocking covered calves with his big firm hands as he starts kissing up your leg starting from where your stockings end mid thigh.  Every kiss he leaves on your skin gives you a shiver as the cool cellar air hits the imprint his lips leaves behind; then, as he gets closer to your heat, he starts to open mouth kiss where you’re the most sensitive, dragging his tongue back and forth over these tender spot and leading you to throw you head back and close your eyes in heady desire.  When he repeats this fog inducing pattern on the inside of your other thigh, you start begging, “Pero, please… please, my Lord, ple-pl-please!”

Nipping at your sensitive flesh with his teeth, Pero smirks against your leg, “What do you need, mi reina?”

Opening your eyes, you nearly buck into his face when you see Pero’s roguish expression peeking up at you from between your wide spread legs, “Touch me please, mi rey.”

“Here?” he asks, with pretend innocence before he dives in and starts devouring your pussy over the fabric of your underwear without waiting for your answer.  This feels different.  So much like his fingers but even more sensual, intimate, wild.  Pero mouths and nuzzles your cunt with a precision only rivalled by that of his tongue; his tongue has a mind of his own, gently prodding, exploring, reaching where his lips can’t. Pero's hands reach up your legs and hook under the band of your soaked panties and you catch him look at you before he murmurs “May I?” directly into your cunt.  The vibrations of his question run through to your chest and it’s all you can do to nod quickly before you watch him pull the frilly undergarment down your legs and have them drop to the ground.  Already completely wrecked, Pero takes in your glistening folds, wet and primed, and growls, “Look at this perfect pussy.  And she’s all mine.”

You run one hand through his soft curls and grip his hair so he’ll look at you, smiling lazily, already unbelievably blissed out, you promise, “All yours.”

“Mine,” Pero repeats, and then he buries his face into heaven.

The sensation is overwhelming in the very best way.  Pero is eating you, no, devouring you like a man starved; every press of his lips to your pussy somehow deeper and hungrier than the last, as his tongue licks every crest and wave of your core and marks them for his own.  Your slick pools from you, down your backside and dampens your gown beneath you; the wet noises from Pero’s mouth against your folds echo obscenely around you and your voice cannot help but try to add in its own harmony.  All of this makes you feel like a worshiped goddess about to ascend her alter and simultaneously like a wanton whore who knows that true heaven lies in the bodily pleasures of this mortal realm.  Then, as Pero’s mouth closes over your clit and he starts to flick your throbbing nub with his tongue, you realize in your daze that no, what you are is something better than either of those two things: you’re the woman who is marrying Barón Pero Tovar.  That’s the thought that overflows from your thumping heart and pushes you over the edge, coming on Pero’s face as you chant his name in a grateful prayer.

After the Ball, you’re positively exhausted from purposefully overdoing the socializing after returning from the wine cellar so no one would recall your long absence.  Yawning, you’re giving your hair a final brush when you hear a soft clink against your bedroom window, followed shortly by another, then another. 

Confused, you approach your window with slight trepidation, and upon looking out, you think at first that your tired eyes must be deceiving you.  Below your window, gazing up at you, is Pero.  He looks devastatingly handsome; yet to undress – Pero is still in his formal breeches, but his white shirt has been unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, exposing his smooth, tanned skin to your admiring gaze.  You might lick your lips at the sight.  Giggling as you tiptoe down the stairs, you walk out onto the terrace that hangs off the sitting room directly below your bedroom, greeted by Pero’s blinding smile, “Barón, what are you doing here?”

It's an easy climb up the side of the wall to the terrace level for Pero and his long legs; once he’s standing directly in front of you, he answers, “I could not sleep without seeing you one last time, Dulce.”

Where did this man who adores you so openly and without reservation come from?  You throw your arms around his neck and pull him in for a gleeful kiss; you adore him too, after all. 

Still grinning, Pero jokes, “And as I recall, it is my turn to call upon you in the dead of night from beneath your window in order to rouse you from the comfort of your bed chamber.”

Although he has no such intent, Pero’s words immediately transport you back to the night you realized your feelings for him… and how you had left his house, devastated upon the discovery that he was not alone.  Stilling in your movements, you shrink away from Pero a little; none of this goes without notice.

“Dulce, are you okay?  I’m sorry, I did not mean to imply there was anything wrong with these late-night meetings, but if you prefer to go back inside, I understand.”

You shake your head to let him know you’re not upset by that, but still your expression remains slightly sad and hurt.  Pero bends at the knee to meet your eye, “Mi amor?”

You’ve never lied or kept anything from Pero in all the time you’ve known him, and now that you’re his fiancé, you’re not about to start.  Looking at the ground next to you, you mumble, “I’m sorry, I was just remembering the night you’re alluding to; when I interrupted you… with those two women.”

When Pero doesn’t answer, you wonder if he’s upset with you for having disturbed him that night, and you look up to meet his eye finally, trying to give him a brave smile, “Please do not be upset with me.  I did not know you had company, which would have been entirely your private business, to which I know I am not entitled.  But if I must be honest, I do not particularly enjoy imagining you with other women.”

Pero has to stifle a laugh; if only you understood the war that raged in his chest every time a suitor placed his hand on your waist for a dance or when you would laugh at their jokes with that twinkle in your eye he loves so much – then you would not feel as if you had to hide these feelings from him.

Stroking your jaw gently, Pero tips your face to his, “Dulce, I could never be upset with you.  Firstly, you are entitled to all my business, private or not.  Secondly, the women to which you refer were not there by my invitation – Lord Ridlington had sent them to my house that evening as some sort of prank.  In his words, maybe if the Barón got laid, he would not be such a stick in the mud.  Nothing happened with those women, I promise, mi amor.  When you arrived, I was right in the middle of arranging for a carriage to take them home.  And thirdly,” Pero walks you backward until your back hits the wall; he braces an arm above your head, and towering over you, grips firmly onto your waist with his other hand, “how could I ever even think of another woman when there is you?  You with your pretty face, and your sweet smile, and your heavenly laugh.  You with your witty quips, and your melodic voice that says the smartest things, and this gorgeous body…” 

Pero’s voice trails off as he starts to kiss down your neck and his strong hands start to move up and down your sides in unison, then separating so one can reach up to massage your breast and the other down to grope your ass.  Your head tips back to allow Pero more access as you melt into his touch - he’s everywhere at once, overwhelming all of your senses.  Kissing down to your breasts, Pero finds them available to him in a way he has yet to experience, your thin night dress much flimsier than the gowns you wear during the day; he can already see your nipples poking up through the fabric, hard and inviting.  Without warning, he ducks and takes one in his mouth, teasing and sucking in tandem with your loud gasps and moans.

“Oh Pero, right there, oh- nghhh, please that feels so good!” you cry out breathily.  Spurned on by your praise, Pero frantically rucks up the skirts of your nightgown and slots his thigh between your legs, pulling you down to sit.  The pressure and friction on your cunt sends a wave of pleasure through you, amplified and extended by Pero’s tongue and lips laving their attention on your breasts.  He encourages you to rock against his thigh, using his grip on your waist to help you find an enjoyable rhythm, and once you’ve found one that catches your clit on the flex of his leg, his hands leave you to your work and travel up your body to pull down the front of your night dress, exposing your tits to the cool night air and Pero’s darkened gaze.

“Beautiful,” he breathes, as he leans back to admire everything before him: your naked curves, your hardened peaks begging for his attention, and the sight of the woman he loves getting off by rubbing her pretty pussy all over his thigh.  He thinks he’s minutes away from combusting.

Instead, he dives right into your chest, mouth and tongue licking, kissing and nibbling, hands groping, pinching and pulling all your delicious parts so that he can bring you to your second orgasm of the night.  While tugging at your nipple with his teeth, he hisses low, “Were you jealous, Dulce?”

Half out of your mind from pleasure you gasp back, “Yes!”

Growling, “Good,” Pero sucks in a mouthful of your breast and kneads what he can’t fit into his mouth with his hands, panting out words when he should be taking in breaths of much needed air -

Now you know how I felt.

When some other man would touch you.

When you would smile at your suitors.

When you didn’t know I would burn the world for you.

You cry out at his confessions, gripping the back of his head and pulling him closer to you still; increasing your rocking, you’re chasing your own high when your knee brushes up against something hard, something big.  When it jumps at your touch, you use your knee to stroke Pero’s length with every pass of your pussy over his thigh. 

Your breasts now wet from Pero’s mouth, the cool night air’s chill against your skin causes you to tighten in Pero’s arms as he continues to electrify you with his hands, his mouth, his tongue, his words -

Never need to be jealous ever again, Dulce.

There’s only you.

Never want anyone else.

Don’t need anyone else.

You’re my everything.

Mine.

You come to his loving and possessive declarations, singing back your own - Yours, yours, yours.  Body violently seizing and shuddering, Pero holds you close as you ride out your high.  As you continue to buck against him, he crests to your desperate whimpers and breathless panting – his eyes never leaving your face, mesmerized by the sweet blissed out expression that he pulled from you.  Finally opening your eyes, you grin lazily at the sight of your lover smiling at you, calming down from his own summit; and when you feel the dampness of his trousers against your bare knee, you giggle in pride and pull Pero back to you lips for a flutter of happy kisses.  As he walks you to the door to the waiting room, you hardly give him a moment without a light peck on his lips, cheeks, neck – not sure you’ll be able to stand being apart from Pero for even a few hours of sleep.

Before he leaves you, Pero cups your face in his large hands, whispering against your lips, “I’m yours,” and you smile back and press your mouth to his before returning, “Mine.”

You marry at the end of the season in late June with the blessing of the Spanish king to do so in England.  The ceremony itself is wonderful and your gown is gorgeous, but you hardly remember anything save for how handsome Pero looks waiting for you at the end of the aisle and how he and the Count both had tears in their eyes for most of the wedding.  What you remember much more vividly is the fun you and your friends had when preparing for the nuptials.  Days and nights filled with laughter, play fighting over flower arrangements, tearful promises to never let distance impact your friendship – you thank the Bridgertons over and over for their love and support during this season and bringing you to Pero; you can never repay them.  When you board the ship to your new home, it’s not without tears as you say goodbye to your friends and father; everyone sends you off with mirroring sentiments and promises to visit soon.

If the Tovar estate servants had any concerns or misgivings about having a foreigner as mistress of the house, you soon win them over with your kind and gentle nature; your cheerful and easy-going demeanor overriding any language barrier, which with their help and your dedication, you were overcoming more and more every day.  And if there were any remaining whispers, be they among the members of the Spanish court, villagers, or any one else, they were quickly quieted once the concerned party bore witness to the ferocity of your love for your husband and his obvious and complete devotion to you.  The older house staff observed quite readily that they hadn’t seen the Barón smile as much as he did since he was a boy.  The newer servants declared that prior to his marriage, they had not seen him smile at all.

One morning, only two months after landing in Spain, you wake to find yourself alone in bed for the first time since you and Pero got married.  Deciding it unnecessary to ring for your ladies’ maid (Lucia, a delightful woman whose English was improving as much as your Spanish), you throw on a dressing robe over your night dress and pad downstairs, sure you’ll find your husband in the dining room having breakfast. 

As usual, you’re right; for a few minutes you remain standing in the doorway, admiring your handsome hulk of a husband as he shovels the remainder of his breakfast into his mouth.  You love the way he eats… everything - with voracity, unabashed hunger, like he can never get enough.  Strolling in only when you see him push aside his empty plate in favour of a pile of letters and paperwork to begin reading, you thank the footman who had already seen you and plated you a warm breakfast, before you approach Pero’s chair.  Dancing your fingers across his broad shoulders, you slide onto your husband’s lap before laying a soft morning kiss to his lips, “Buenos días, mi rey.”

“Buenos días, mi reina,” Pero kisses back, turning his full attention to you as he always does.

“Te echo de menos esta mañana (I missed you this morning),” you pout, although you’re not really upset with him in any way.

Pero smiles at you indulgently, “I thought you might like to get some extra sleep.”  He nuzzles your ear and you can hear him smile, “Considered you might be tired after your activities last night, Baronesa.”

You giggle and pull him in for another kiss, your cheeks get hot just thinking about the multiple orgasms that Pero pulled from you with his talented fingers, mouth and cock; you purr back and pepper his scruff with kisses, “Very thoughtful of you, Barón.”  Your eyes soften, “No me gusta despertar sin ti, Pero (I hate waking up without you, Pero).”

Pero kisses your temple, “My apologies, Dulce.  How can I make it up to my pretty wife?”

You squirm in his lap; a thrill still runs through you when you hear him refer to you as his wife, and you start to plant breathy kisses to the spot right behind his ear that you know drives him crazy.

“Already?  Is my wife so insatiable?” chuckles Pero, though his voice his has dropped to that low baritone register that makes your stomach flip.  You nod into his neck and start to run your fingers through his soft curls, tugging impatiently at the ones at the base of his neck.

“Déjanos por favor (leave us please),” Pero calls out politely.  The servants in the dining room leave at once and close the doors, some smirking - all the servants having gotten used to their master and new mistress’ voracious appetite for one another.  The younger servants were mainly amused and some even found it romantic; the older servants acting scandalized, but secretly pleased to see such a happy marriage on the estate after so long.

 “Sit up here, mi amor,” Pero pulls you off his lap gently and directs you up onto the dining room table; you move his papers aside and push his flatware out of the way.  Teasing him, you quip, “I thought you already had breakfast, my lord?”

“I’m ready for seconds,” growls Pero as he pulls up his chair and seats himself between your legs.  Licking his lips greedily, he unties your robe and peels it open to reveal your lacey nightgown underneath. Lifting up the skirt to reveal your already wet and waiting naked cunt, he murmurs, "Delicious," before lowering himself to meet you where you already need him so desperately.  Aware that you might still be sensitive from the previous night’s sex, Pero is careful with you – his licks and strokes to your folds are gentle and slow, he mouths and sucks your clit with tenderness and reverence, and when he presses two, then three fingers into your tight hole, he does so with restrained worship.  It’s only when you cry out for more, more, more, that he quickens his pace and fully presses his mouth to you, tongue tangling with your sensitive bud before nibbling it between his teeth.  Your moans and debauched sounds of rapture have never been restrained in this house, your house – and you come with a desperate and enchanting scream befitting the blinding pleasure now electrifying your body. 

Kissing up your nightgown and planting loving open mouth kisses to your breasts before letting you taste yourself, Pero licks into your mouth and whispers, “Te amo, mi reina,” before standing back to unlace his pants.

Your mouth waters as you watch your husband free his cock; no matter how many times you’ve taken him in your hands, your mouth, your cunt, you’re still in awe of its size and the things that Pero’s length can do to you.  Whenever you feel the stretch of him entering you, you always recall the first time and how gentle he was as he pushed in.  When you remember the tenderness in his voice and face as he made sure you were comfortable, putting your pleasure before his – your heart always blooms with overflowing love for this man.  How did you get so lucky?  Pero would of course always say that he’s the lucky one, and then show you just how deep his affection for you runs by thrusting with intensity, punching that spot inside that makes you see stars, over and over – the exact way he’s doing so now.  “¡Cómo te amo, Pero!” you whimper again and again, and by the way he continues to drive into you, you know he believes you.  Folding himself over you so that he can bury his face into your neck and nip at the delicate spot at the base, Pero's pants and groans have you arching your back and fisting his hair just for something to hold on to lest you float away.

“I’m close, Dulce.  Come with me,” Pero growls, snaking a hand between your bodies and finding your clit with ease.  Drawing quick circles over your swollen nub, you feel the coil beneath your belly tighten and tighten until it snaps and you throw you head back chanting your husband’s name as you fall over the cliff.  Not far behind, Pero’s pace falters before he spills into you with a long and low grunt in your ear that shoots straight to where you’re joined as one. 

Weak, limp and perfectly satisfied, you let Pero pull you into a sitting position and kiss him deeply and sweetly as both of your breaths start to even, the heaving of your chests slowing in unison.

Forehead resting against yours, Pero catches your still dazed eyes and gives a small nod towards the papers that had been pushed aside and forgotten, “Dulce, I’ve been charged with accompanying His Majesty’s naval fleet to Naples, Italy.  Would you join me?”

Smiling because you know he already knows the answer, you nod, “Of course, mi amor.  I’ll start making the necessary arrangements today.”

Pero tilts his head, eyes soft and reassuring, “Are you okay with leaving?  We will have only been home for a few short months.”

Cupping your husband’s face in your hands, you gaze adoringly into his eyes, “My home is where you are, Pero.”

Pero closes his eyes and pulls you flush against him, with him still softening inside you, you’re as close as two people can be.  He tips your face to his and whispers, “You’re my home, Dulce,” and all you can do is sigh in unsurpassable happiness as he presses his lips to yours once again.

I've never done a tag list before so please let me know if it doesn't work, or you don't/do want to be on it, or it sets your phone on fire 😅 @drewharrisonwriter @inept-the-magnificent @tuquoquebrute @stcrrjoon @anoverwhelmingdin

@callsignmedusa @wintersquirrel @toobsessedsstuff @starwarslover-81 @la-vie-est-une-fleur29

[captain-hen]

BUCK & EDDIE IN EVERY EPISODE ↳ 6.12: recovery (2/2)

[Image Description: 10 gifs from 9-1-1, season 6, episode 12, of Evan Buckley and Eddie Diaz.

Gif 1: A shot of Buck walking into the kitchen, looking surprised and confused as he asks, "How did I fall asleep so fast?" Eddie replies, "You fell asleep before I got the beers out of the refridgerator."

Gif 2: 2 small gifs and one larger gif on a large canvas. The first gif, a shot of Buck looking apologetic as he says, "Sorry," shifting to Eddie who looks hopeful as he says, "Nah, no worries. Still want that beer?" The second gif, Buck seems a little amused as he says, "Uh...maybe some water." The shot shifts to Eddie who moves to pour Buck a glass of water, saying, "Agua on the way." The third gif, a shot of Buck sitting down at the kitchen table, rubbing his eyes, as Eddie opens the fridge.

Gif 3: Two gifs on a large canvas. The first gif, a shot of Buck quietly saying, "Thank you," cutting away to a wider shot of Eddie pouring the water as he says, "There you go, sir." The second gif, in the same shot, Buck says, "I mean, it—it's fine if you want to have a beer." Eddie replies, "I already did. Both of them." Buck says, "Right."

Gif 4: Two gifs on a large canvas. The first gif, a shot of Buck taking a slow sip of his water, cutting away to Eddie, watching him patiently as he goes back to making Chris' lunch. The second gif, Buck has leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed, as he asks thoughtfully, "Hey, what do you remember about getting shot?" Eddie looks at him, seeming slightly surprised.

Gif 5: 4 smaller gifs on a large canvas. The first gif, Eddie focuses on what he's doing as he replies, "There was a searing pain." The second gif, Buck tilts his head as Eddie continues to say, "It felt like I got hit by a bus." The third gif, Eddie says, "I was still standing." It cuts away to Buck as Eddie continues, "I remember falling." The fourth gif, a close-up of Eddie's conflicted expression as he says, "And everything got dark."

Gif 6: 2 smaller gifs and one large gif on a large canvas. The first gif, Eddie is looking away from Buck as he says, "And I thought, this is it." The second gif, Buck watches Eddie, and it cuts away to Eddie making eye-contact with him as he says, "This is the last moment of my life." The third gif, a wide shot of Eddie as he laughs off the seriousness of the moment and says quickly, "Then, I woke up in the hospital."

Gif 7: 2 smaller gifs and one large gif on a large canvas. The first gif, Buck seems taken aback as he asks, "And that was it?" The second gif, Buck listens as Eddie says, not looking at him, "That was it. No bright white lights, no trippy mind puzzles, just...thought I was dead, and then I wasn't." The third gif, Eddie braces his hands on the table and says, seriously, "Now am I allowed to ask how you are?"

Gif 8: 4 smaller gifs on a large canvas. The first gif, Buck seems lost for words as he leans forward, supporting his head on his arm. The second gif, he leans on his arm and looks up at Eddie, seeming vulnerable, and says, "Honestly, Eddie, I...I don't know." The third gif, a close-up of Eddie looking at Buck and then looking away as he says, "You died, Buck." The fourth gif, a close-up of Buck hanging on to Eddie's words, wide-eyed as Eddie says, "You're gonna feel a lot of different ways about that. Sometimes all at the same time."

Gif 9: 2 smaller gifs and one large gif on a large canvas. The first gif, Eddie scrunches up his face as he says, "I found that the best way to process it is to...allow yourself to feel it." The second gif, Buck swallows, his eyes bright with tears. The third gif, Buck asks, with a hopeful smile, "Yeah, but you...You do eventually, right? You..you process it."

Gif 10: Two gifs on a large canvas. The first gif, Eddie tells Buck reassuringly, "Every day you open your eyes in the morning, you feel a little less surprised the world is still there." The second gif, Eddie gives Buck a tiny smile before looking away. The shot cuts to Buck, who continues to watch Eddie intently, seeming like he's realized something.

/End ID]

[kining-the-evil]

Can i request a James Wilson x f!reader where they’re married and the reader takes the place of House in the episode where he gets shot.

Heartbeat

Summary: Nothing brings a fighting couple together like a life threatening event

Warnings: being shot, arguing between reader and Wilson, angst, house being a bitch, reader is House’s sister

“I really don’t know what you want y/n,” James mumbled through his hands. His desk was a mess, something that always drove you crazy. The entire time you’d known the man you went out of your way to clean it and eventually he got used to it, even poking fun at you when you did. Today would not include that sort of teasing.

“You know exactly what I want, you just don’t want to actually do it.” You argued back. This was the third time James had stayed at the hospital over night, except last night he didn’t stay here. He went to your brothers.

“I- I had work to get done-“

“Thats what you were at Greg’s?” You watched as his face morphed slightly. He knew you’d caught him in his lie.

“He told you?”

“No. I was tired of sleeping in an empty apartment so I went to see my brother. Your car was parked out front.” The silence made the room feel heavy, and your husband was looking everywhere but at you.

“I don’t… i didn’t mean…I was going to come home. But…I just ended up there,” he attempted to explain.

“Thats why you told me you wouldn’t be home before I went home?” He didnt answer, fully aware it was a rhetorical question. “Its nice to know we are no longer in the ‘honeymoon phase.’ How else was I ever going to know when you were going to start trying to make me ex wife number 4?”

“Thats a low blow.”

“No, its a low blow for others. For your wife, its a perfectly reasonable concern!” He finally pushed himself away from his desk to stand up, reacting to how your voice was raising.

“Please just, calm down for a moment.”

“I have been calm! How many times have I defended shit you do? How many times have I forgiven you!” You yelled at him. “You promised you would be better this time!”

James just stared at you. It could have been because he didn’t know what to say, or because you’d never yelled at him like this; but you didn’t really care.

“You know what James, if you want to be like this then you can stay at Greg’s house for a while. I don’t want to see you.”

You didnt wait for an answer this time, simply leaving his office in a huff. Your next stop was your brothers office so you could chew him out.

“Gregory House!” You yelled, throwing the door open. All three of his lackeys turned to look at you while Greg made a face.

“Full name, that cant be good.”

“Why the hell did you not tell me?”

“Tell you what?” you gave him a look, making him sigh. “I assume you just got done yelling at Wilson?”

“I told him he could stay with you for a while, seeing as you didn’t have an issue with it last time.” The other three doctors watched the two argue, unsure of what they should do. It felt wrong to watch, but they didnt want to draw attention to themselves by leaving either.

Before you could continue yelling at him, the door to the office opened and another man walked in.

“Are you Doctor House?”

“No, he is.” Greg pointed at Forman, not looking away from the obvious staring contest happening between the two of you.

“Im an old patient.”

“You can leave the gift basket on my desk-“ he stoped talking, eyes wide, making you turn to see what was happening. You didnt even see the gun before you felt a sharp pain in your neck, and then your abdomen. You felt yourself run into your brother as you stumbled backwards, and he quickly helped you to lay down.

He was talking to you, but the ringing in your ears was to loud to hear him. You brought your hand to your stomach, bringing it up slightly to see your hand covered in blood. You must have been shot.

You let your eyes slid shut for a moment, and when you opened them again you were laying on what felt like a bed and the ceiling was flying by. You caught a glimpse of Cuddy, and you could feel hands on both your neck and stomach. Your breathing was labored, and blood was stating to fill your mouth. You coughed, attempting to expel the liquid, and Cuddy glanced back down at you.

“Your going to be ok y/n.”

You nodded slowly, but the pain in your neck quickly put a stop to it. You let your eyes slip closed again, and when you opened them again a few doctors were surrounding you and you were no longer moving. In the corner of your eye you saw James, and you attempted to say something. Though you weren’t sure what. Instead, a mask was put over your face and the already fuzzy world got even fuzzier.

You attempted to reach out in James’s direction, but your arm felt to heavy. You let your eyes slip closed for a third time, knowing you wouldn’t open them again for a while.

•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•

Everything hurt. That was the only though you had as you woke up a bit. Every part of your body was soar, and your head felt like someone had been beating on it with a hammer. After a few moments of laying there, you opened your eyes slightly. Thankfully, the lights in the room were turned down making it slightly more bearable. A glance around the room told you you were alone.

You reached up, feeling around your body a bit. Your neck felt the worse, which made sense since there was multiple bandages and a draining tube sticking pit if the side. Your stomach also had bandages, and there was a small bit of blood on it.

“You look like shit.” You glanced up to see your brother leaning against the doorway.

“Funny,” you groaned. “How bad?”

“You got a bullet lodged in your neck and abdomen. They removed them, but you lost a lot of blood and you flatlined for two minutes.” You listened, calculating what that would mean. Two minutes without air could cause brain damage.

“He was trying to shoot me.” You glanced back at your brothers face, seeing an emotion that was rare for him. Guilt. “He had an std after cheating on his wife and I had to tell her. She ended up killing herself; he wanted to kill me. You got in the way.”

You weren’t sure what to say. One thing the two of you didnt have a lot of practice with was sharing emotional moments together. No mater what the emotion was. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I know.”

It was silent for a few minutes after that. Neither of you really knowing where to go from there. “Where’s James?”

He smirked lightly at your question. “He snuck off to see his mistress, he’ll be so disappointed that you pulled through.”

“Im not in the mood Greg.”

“Relax. He should be back any second.” He leaned back to glance down the hall. “Speak of the devil.”

James pushed past his friend, slightly out of breath. “Is she ok-“ he stoped when he saw you awake. “Thank god.” He mumbled, a smile in his face.

“Hi,” you whispered, a smile of your own on your face.

“I’ll give you some space, but don’t go to crazy.” You couldn’t help but role your eyes at your brothers sarcasm, but he did leave the two of you alone.

“Im sorry.”

The words were out of his mouth before you even had a chance to think about saying something to him.

“What?”

He walked over, sitting in the chair next to your bed. He reached out taking a hold of your hand, careful of the iv in it. “I have been, awful the past few weeks. My own insecurities got the best of me, and because of that you’ve suffered. When Cameron got me, I immediately thought, ‘what if I lose her?’ When they told me you flatlined-“ he cut himself off with a shaky breath. You let go of his hand, reaching up to touch his face; whipping away a tear. “When they told me that, all I could think about was that the last moment I would have spent with you was arguing. Not say I love you, not seeing you smile; that last time I would have seen you was with you glaring at me.”

“James,” you whispered to the man. “I’m ok.”

“I know, but what if you weren’t?” He had tears running down his face, which told you just how upset he was. James took after your brother, his emotions being just as hard to read at times.

“Im sorry for yelling,” you apologized. “I’m just scared to be another one of your ex wife’s.”

“I messed up my other relationships, Im not doing it again.” He assured you. “And I will do anything to show you.”

“I just want honesty. Dont hide, or go running to my brother. Talk to me.”

“I will.” He promised, letting his head lean into your hand as he rubbed light circles in your wrist. He leaned down, intending to kiss you but you turned your head away.

“I can not possibly look kissable right now.”

“You Look beautiful.” He tried, but you shook your head.

“I have a tube in my neck draining a mix of blood and puss. I can promise you that’s not attractive.” He just smiled at your words, shaking his head.

“You could throw up blood on me and id still kiss you.”

“Liar.” He laughed at the look you have him to accompany the word.

“Ok, ok, that may be an exaggeration. But I still want a kiss.” That time you let him lean down and connect your lips. It wasn’t long, but it left the promise of more later.

“Oh come on, you can do more then that.” James exhaled on your face, making you chuckle as Greg walked in. “If you go a little further then I get $100 from Forman.”

“You could always not make bets on our person life,” James offered.

“But what’s the fun in that?” He pushed a few buttons on your iv, making your frown.

“What Are You Doing?”

“Uping your Morphine, dont tell cuddy.” He Held a finger up in a shushing motion.

“God, I love you,” you smiled. If you were going to be shot, you might as well feel good for the night.

“Now that you’ve done your little crying make up thing, you should go shower.” James started to argue, but Greg just cut him off. “You haven’t moved to two days. How am I going to make the $100 of you stink?”

“Ill be fine,” you assured your husband. He didnt say anything, but nodded and stood up. He placed a small kiss on your forehead before leaving the room. Greg watched him walk away before look back at you.

“Thank god you made up, he is the worst roommate.”

“Shut up before I throw something at you.”

[apples4day]

BLAME || Yandere! TDWT x Fem! Reader

2/2 EPISODE TWO (Walk Like An Egyptian- Part 2)

This is part 4 of my series, go read the other parts if u haven’t!

Your team was behind team Amazon, looking absolutely ridiculous all stacked up on one teeny tiny goat. They were struggling with making the camel go faster, you were struggling to trust Alejandro to not let you fall.

"We're gonna go win the race now, see ya!" Heather stuck her tongue out at us.

"Eat sand losers!" Courtney smiled.

"Such witty remarks from such fiercely intelligent women, I'm both humbled and intrigued." Alejandro complimented. Courtney shooed him,

"Nice try but I'm with Duncan."

"And what a pity it is that you should give yourself to a quitter, who doesn't deserve you."

Alejandro was moving a lot as he talked and you were starting to get even more nervous.

"That's not- Duncan is totally- uh- you're just...will someone hurry this camel up!" Courtney was at a loss for words.

CONFESSIONAL- HEATHER

"Oh he's good. Too good..seriously what is his deal? He is just so..perfect. Don't even get me started on Y/n. UGHH"

CONFESSIONAL- HEATHER; ENDED

So that's his game plan? Flirting with every girl here? As expected from him. He's got the looks for it I'm not gonna lie. You thought, staring at his face.

"If you want you can take a picture," he suggested, winking.

"What? No. You have a bug on your face." You lied.

"Do I?" He smirked.

"Yes. Oh! Oops...you're the bug." You shrugged and he looked a little surprised.

I don't usually care when someone insults me...but that felt different. A lil peak into his thoughts 🤰

Man you suck at being nice, he's just so easy to be mean to. No matter how badly you want to win.

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed water. A big blue body of water. Tapping Alejandro softly on the head, you leaned in to whisper what you discovered.

"What? Do you want a kiss señorita?" He puckered up and you cringed. "No! Look, the Nile." You pointed out. He stopped and looked, smiling like he was the one who found it?? Narcissist. Man what a weirdo this guy is. You thought to yourself.

"Hold on everyone, I'm changing our route." He bucked his hips (Into me😈) in another direction and you grabbed his head. I will NOT die because I fell off a human tower. Especially because some guy moved his hips and I fell off his shoulder.

CONFESSIONAL- ALEJANDRO

"Perhaps it would've been kind to show the girls team which way to go but you've seen my team, we need all the help we can get."

Alejandro crossed his arms.

"For some reason Y/n hasn't fallen for me. I think my best plan would be to get into an alliance with her. She isn't very social so I'll be her only option."

CONFESSIONAL- ALEJANDRO; ENDED

"There's the finish line!" Tyler pointed.

"Yeah, ON THE OTHER SIDE."

Crocodiles jumped out of the water, "flying abilities anyone?" You joked.

Chris said something you couldn't hear. Owen couldn't hear him either,

"WHAT?! SPEAK UP!!"

Chris kept speaking, Owen still couldn't hear. "Did you guys get any of that?"

Chris snapped his fingers and had a weird megaphone passed to him.

"I SAID, WELCOME TO THE THIRD FINAL EGYPTIAN CHALLENGE! BASKET CASES."

It was so loud that the wind got way stronger. Noah was almost blown away and had grabbed you for support. Everyone's eyes were wide open because of shock. Owen ducked and covered his head. You and Noah were basically cuddling.

There's that vanilla scent again. He thought, holding you.

Chris explained that we would have to make a boat blah blah blah.

You were a bit zoned out and only caught the last part of his sentence. Noah's hands around you were kinda the only thing you could think about, especially with your face pressed into his body. Finally zoning back in, you heard the last part of Chris' sentence. "Aka goat face over there!"

Tyler looked insulted, "hey!" You gently removed Noah from you and put your hand on Tylers shoulder, "I believe he meant the goat." You pointed to the goat. Tyler thanked you. "I'm surprised you can reach his shoulders," Noah said. He was basically making fun of you and your height. "I'm surprised you could reach the 6th grade, and I'm surprised you didn't get blown away by the wind." You retaliated. His face flushed.

CONFESSIONAL- NOAH

"I'm the smartest person here. She doesn't know what she's talking about, she probably got held back."

He sighed.

"..she's amazing. I think my heart is gonna explode."

CONFESSIONAL- NOAH; ENDED

Chris continued explaining. "This is perfect!" Sierra seemed happy. Noah didn't,

"What? The fact that we're hosed?"

"I'm a fourth generation basket weaver!"

Owen cheered, "yeah!"

"We're gonna need a lot of reeds," Sierra rushed to start picking reeds. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. "Hey Sierra, can you teach me?"

"Of course!"

You caught on pretty quickly. Alejandro noticed, "As expected from a fierce intelligent woman, fast learning." He placed his hands on his hips and smiled as you weaved the boat together with Sierra. "Ya sei tu plan, ya para de chamuyar." You looked up at him. (Translation- I already know your plan, stop sweet talking me/flirting.)

You were on your knees to weave the basket.

I quite like this angle. He thought, since he was looking down at you.

"¿Sabes español?" (Translation- you know Spanish?)

"No pendejo, estoy hablando portuguesa." You replied sarcastically. (Translation- No idiot/asshole, I'm speaking Portuguese.)

The team was looking at you guys. He continued anyways, even though it would raise suspicion. "Espera hasta que estamos solitos para hablar de..esto." (Translation- wait until we are alone to talk about..this.)

You nodded in agreement and kept weaving. Noah gave you a look, and you simply smiled innocently at him. He swears his stomach flipped upside down when you looked at him. Team Amazon finally showed up.

"Basket weave a boat? UGHH" Heather complained. Sierra stopped weaving and got up to talk to team Amazon. You reached out to grab her but she had already walked away. "Sorry you guys are so far behind, our baskets nearly done already thanks to my speed weaving!"

This doesn't look good, you thought.

"Plus you got Owen on your team, lucky!" Izzy said.

"But you have Cody." Sierra ran to Cody, pressing him into her chest. He looked disgusted. "I know Cody, I wish we were on the same team too!" He looked miserable. "Uhh I have to do..something." He ran away as fast as possible. "Cody has been wanting a girl for awhile. Guess he just didn't want some crazy stalker," you said to Noah. Noah looked away, he couldn't handle looking at you for some reason. It was all odd to him, he wasn't the type to like a girl like this or at least this badly.

You didn't notice his pink cheeks, all because you started a conversation with him just now. "Aww you guys are so cute together!" Izzy referred to Sierra and Cody. Noah wished she meant you and him. "Maybe we could swap teams?" Sierra made a hand gesture, Heather considered it.

"Trade a basket case for a basket weaver? Fine! Sierra, you're with us. Izzy..go play with the boys!" Heather shooed. "Do I look like a boy to you?" You rolled your eyes. Heather waved at you, still trying to make an alliance. "What?!" Alejandro looked mad about the swap.

Sierra began building their boat even quicker. Probably for Cody. Team Amazon laughed at Heather thinking she was the boss. You giggled too. Noah kept staring at you and then turning away when you went to look at him. Alejandro was still stuck on the swap, "where's Chris? He won't allow this."

Chris pulled up on a boat. Sierra immediately went to sweet talk him. "Did somebody-" Chris was cut off by Sierra hugging his feet. "Todays officially the best day of my life! So I really hope you allow us to swap. But of course you'll make the best decision cause you're the best decider ever!!"

"And that's why I'm going to allow it!"

"Smiley face!! Ahhh!!"

Chris waved goodbye and you gave him the most betrayed look ever. His smile dropped for some reason at that. The boat pulled away, and he stared at you as he went back to the other side. "As you wish.." Alejandro was defeated. Heather stuck her tongue out at him and he blew her a kiss. You rolled your eyes and bit your lip, trying not to say something.

Sierra already finished, even putting a hut on the boat. Your team complained and you stood up, crossing your arms. "I hope their boat sinks or that the camel refuses to get in." You mumbled, your team heard anyways and Noah chuckled, so did Izzy. "Don't give up! We still have a shot!"

"Al's right! Thanks Al."

You saw Alejandro shiver at that nickname and decided to get in a bit of teasing. You walked over to him, leaning down a bit because he was on one knee. "You cold? Why are you shivering?" You teased, getting even closer. "Uh..yes. It's cold in here." Noah glanced over, "dude it's the fucking desert. Y/n don't get too close to him, you might catch a disease." You giggled. Alejandro glared at Noah.

"So you're cold?" You touched his forehead with the back of your hand. "Don't feel cold...maybe you should let us all know what you like to be called." You continued teasing, walking back to Noah. Noah almost looked like he was gonna grab your wrist to get you away from Alejandro. Meanwhile Alejandro still looked traumatized from being called Al. He also looked like he was gonna strangle Noah.

CONFESSIONAL- ALEJANDRO

"I have no problem being called..Al." He shivered again. "Uhhh that wasn't- it's just- chilly..in here." He shivered again but it was fake this time. He looked around.

"Also that Noah kid..he needs to back off. From me and Y/n, he's like her dog and this is only the second episode."

(Alejandro doesn't know I'm about to make him the same way😭🙏)

CONFESSIONAL- ALEJANDRO; ENDED

Team victory finally arrived and team Amazon was struggling to get their camel in the boat. "Izzy! Tell Ruby to get in the boat." Izzy began speaking to the goat at the command of Courtney. "Woahhh woah, Izzy's on our team now. Not yours." Noah stated. You touched Izzy's curly ginger hair for a moment in awe and then spoke, "not a word pretty lady." You found her pretty, so why not call her pretty? Though you might look a bit lesbian, which you are, it doesn't matter. (Y/n is bisexual by the way, js a reminder)

"Ooh fun!" Izzy treated it like a game. "Fine! We'll do it ourselves. C'mon." Courtney said. They struggled with the camel. The boat was finally finished, the back looking a bit wonky since it was done by everyone but Sierra. "It floats! Awesome!" Owen cheered. Alejandro whistled to the goat, which immediately ran to his arms.

Team victory also finished building. You were rowing behind Noah, and in front of Alejandro and his weird goat. "We're gonna win fair and square..but to make sure you believe that..talk to the camel." Alejandro gave Izzy the go to talk to the camel. You spoke up, "what? No! Don't do it Izzy. Are you trying to make us lose Alejandro?"

Alejandro looked down at you, "we won't. And if we do lose because of me, you can sleep on me in economy." You grimaced, "like I'd wanna." Alejandro nodded at Izzy to continue. She started talking to the camel who immediately got in team amazons boat after she told it to.

The musical bell went off. "Time for a musical reprise!"

Everybody groaned. "Hey! If you'd finished the song the first time you wouldn't be here now, Zeke! Start singing. And put your backs into it." Chris looked like he enjoyed everyone's misery. He definitely did.

Pick or make your own part again 🤷‍♀️

Team Amazon passed you guys, as you said they would. So your team got second and team victory got last. "Congrats! You're alive. And as long as you all brought your rewards across the finish line, there will be no eliminations tonight." Most people cheered at the news, you were too busy glaring at Alejandro.

"I lost the stick..heh." Ezekiel said, his whole team looked at him in anger. Chris chuckled. "Sucks to be you."

—

CONFESSIONAL- ALEJANDRO

"Losing Sierra to Heather? Ehh tragic. But I still have the upper hand, the president of Cody's fan club doesn't know a thing about me. No one does, and I intend to keep it that way. Compared to me, Heathers a saint. Well...I guess Y/n thinks she has me figured out. She doesn't even know a quarter of it though."

"Y/n is...a valuable asset. Noah keeps getting in my way though."

CONFESSIONAL- ALEJANDRO; ENDED

You were pissed sitting in economy. You were sitting in between Noah and Alejandro. "So? What do you have to say? I literally told you not to let Izzy talk to the camel! You didn't listen." You complained, leaning back. "Now we're stuck on this stupid wooden bench in this very sketchy area of the plane." Alejandro only looked at you as you ranted about his mistake. "I apologize cariño, I'll make it up to you," he grabbed your hand, attempting to kiss it.

Noah scoffed, "quit it Prince Charming." He grabbed your wrist, pulling it away from Alejandro's grasp. "That's no way to grab a lady." Alejandro said.

"Suck it," you scooted away from Alejandro. "I'd take his touch over yours any day, Al." You taunted, using the name he oh so hated against him. He shivered.

"Necesitemos hablar, sígueme. Y por favor, para de usar ese nombre." Alejandro said, standing up and walking into the confessional. He wanted the world to see how he made you his puppet. (Translation- we need to talk, follow me. And please stop using that name.)

But something is making him wanna make you more than just a puppet. Make you his.

NOT proofread.

Part 5 ALREADY out

As I said in earlier chapters, Y/n is hinted to be short.

Alsooo my Spanish is Argentinian and Mexican..as I am Argentinian and Mexican so don't say anything🤷‍♀️

Part five⬇️

[spiderboykingoftheives]

“I Met Spiderman”

Word count: 1.4k

spiderman x reader

Summary: Spiderman saves his girlfriend who doesn’t know he’s Spiderman.

Warnings: narrator @ttacked by strangers

—————————————

I was walking home from the night shift. The air was colder then usual and I could see my breath as I walked to my apartment. As I walked I held my jacket close to me to keep all my body heat in.

That’s when some men smoking cigarettes look at me and give a whistle. I ignore them walking faster not making eye contact, so they get in my way. Slowly surrounding you so there is no way out.

“Hey little lady what are you doing out here so late and all alone?” One of them says as the slowly close in on me.

“I’m walking home to my boyfriend if you would be so kind as to let me pass,” you say still not making eye contact with them.

“Well you have to do something for us before that,” a second man says coming in reaching for me but I move away just far enough to miss his grasp and not run into another man.

“We can take payments in favor,” a third man says looking at me over and over again. I hold my jacket tighter wanting to cover myself up as much as possible.

“Please leave me alone-“ you say feeling stressed and scared. The first man to speak steps forward and grabs my jacket pulling it off of me. My purse and phone fall to the ground and the second man kicks it away.

“You haven’t given us our payment yet though,” the first man says looking at me. I can see his bad intentions just from his eyes.

The third man grabs a knife and holds it to my throat as the first man holds me against the wall.

“Get off me!” I yell trying to break out of his grasp. In response they push the knife to my throat even more and I can feel some blood drawn.

“Slow down man she’s already bleeding,” the second man says moving the knife away from me. As soon as it was clear I kicked the first man in the balls and pushed him off of me. The second man grabs my hair and pulls me to the ground. I land hard on my knees and the second man keeps a grip on my hair and pulls it so it faces him.

“That was a mistake,” he said and the third man fist make a direct hit to my face. The rings on his fingers cutting through my skin and I feel warm blood trailing down my face. The second man then kicks me in the stomach and drops my hair. I fall onto the ground now laying down fetal position as I feel more kicks being thrown at me. They occasionally pulling my hair and dragging my bruised and bloody body across the alley. I feel the world begin to fade out and close my eyes in exhaustion when the kicking and pain finally stops. I open my eyes and see a red and blue blur now webbing the criminals down and disarming them.

Once they were taken care of Spiderman turns to me and the eyes on his suit were as wide as they can be.

He rushed over to my side grabbing my face and inspecting it.

“What did they do?” He said and I could hear the anger even through my disorientation.

“I don’t feel good,” I say slowly closing my eyes but he shakes my shoulders.

“No you have to stay awake okay? You can’t fall asleep on me.” He says holding her closer I can tell he is inspecting my wounds.

I stay silent just trying to get my eyes to focus but there was three Spider-Man’s in front of me. I feel myself being lifted into the air and thought I was hallucinating but I soon realized Spider-Man was now running me to the nearest hospital which luckily was close by.

“Tell me what’s your favorite color?“ he says trying to keep me awake.

“Purple. There’s not that much purple in the world, so I like it when I see it.” I say trying my best to keep my eyes open.

“What’s your favorite movie?” He continues

“Star Wars: Attack of the Clones which is episode two. I always wanted love like Anakin and Padme as a kid.”

“Did you ever find that?” He asks and looks down at me.

“I think so. Hopefully it’s better then that though and he doesn’t end up being a mass murderer” I say and notice him slightly chuckling.

“What’s his name?” He asks next.

“How did we get from what’s your favorite color to who are you in love with?” I laugh at him. “But it’s Peter if you’re so curious.”

“That’s a good name.” Spider-Man says and I can tell he’s smiling under the mask even though I have a concussion.

“Why’s that Spider-Man?” I ask looking at him.

“Oh uhhhh I have a friend named that,” he says quickly.

“Okay…” I say not pushing further. “Wow you have friends. I never really thought about you’re life outside of- well this” I say gesturing to the costume.

“Sometimes me either,” he says and I can hear a sadness in his tone.

“Are you dating anyone?” I ask him now. “It’s only fair you share now that I’ve told you mine.”

“I guess that’s true,” he says nervously. “I am dating but don’t ask for their name I can’t give away my identity now,”

“What are they like?” I ask now curious for me.

“Well she’s smart, smarter then me. She also has this laugh that just fills the whole room. It’s like everything gets hundred times brighter when she walks in. She always thinks of others, the kindest person I’ve ever met-“ he says and I can tell he would have kept going but we arrived at the hospital. Nurses see Spider-Man caring a girl and immediately rush over to help with a gurney and other supplies.

“Thank you sir, I can’t repay you for this.” I say as I’m placed on the bed.

“You don’t need to just please get better fast,” he says to me then looks up at the nurses. “I need you to make sure that she gets extra care please.” He says almost like he is begging. I’m surprised at how concerned he is for me when I was just another strangers life who was saved, he must really take his job seriously.

The next morning

I wake up and see my boyfriend Peter Parker sitting in a chair by my bed. As soon as I wake up and turn over to look at him his head shoots up. I’m surprised he could tell I was awake from such little movement I made. He looks at me and smiles, walking over to me and placing his hand on mine.

“Hey I heard you got in attacked, how are you feeling?” He says looking at me with concern.

“I’m okay. I met Spider-Man actually. It was cool except for the part where I almost died. Did you know he’s in love? I was only half conscious but man the way he talked about her was how everyone woman wants to be talked about.” I say and I’m about to keep going but I realize I’m rambling and stop. I see he is blushing a slight bit and squeezes my hand a little.

“I’m just glad you’re safe.” I can tell he was about to start another sentence and stops.

“You know when I got attacked all I could think of was you. Even Spider-Man sounded like you, I must have really gotten hit in the head.” I say laughing and I can see him laugh too.

“I’m sorry this happened to you. I just wish I could have done something to stop this. You didn’t deserve this you’re to good-“ He says and I stop him by placing my hands on both sides of his face.

“Peter I’m fine,” I say looking at him and giving a reassuring smile. “It’s all going to be okay.”

He looks into my eyes for a minute of silence. I can tell he’s thinking of something in deep thought before he finally says something again.

“I love you. I’ve been wanting to tell you since the day I met you but-“ I stop his rambling by kissing him. My hands moving from my face to his hair as I pull him closer to me. His hands find their away around my waist as he pulls me in as well.

“I love you too. I always have.” I say as we pull back to catch out breath. I smile at him and place my forehead against his. “I’ll always love you.”

[laurel-finch]

'I Don't Bite' S1.Ch07: The Real Monsters

Summary: The team works together to save Sam, but they incur a heavy cost... Referenced Episodes: mentioned S1 E6 "Skin," S1 E15 "The Benders" CW: Gore! Lore dump! Kidnapping. Word Count: 6150 Recommended Song: Crazy Train -- Ozzy Osbourne Previous Chapter -- Masterlist -- Next Chapter

“Why can’t I just pretend to be anything else?”

“I don’t have a state police ID for you, and they won’t just let some random civilian in on the investigation.”

"Dean, I don't think they're going to believe this."

"What? Why wouldn't they?"

"I don't exactly look like a police dog," I huffed, hardly believing that he had faith in this plan. "No one is going to believe that an off-duty cop and his 'wolf-dog' – who, by the way, is bigger than a Great Dane – are here to investigate the sudden disappearance of his cousin, who just so happens to be related to a known murderer that you look exactly like." I inhaled heavily, having said it all in one breath. Dean raised an eyebrow at this, a light smirk on his features.

"A little positivity wouldn’t hurt!" he exclaimed with a cheesy grin my way. He threw the car door open and stepped into the bright morning sunlight. I sputtered and he made his way around the Impala to the passenger's side door, opening it for me. With a small glare, I jumped out of the car and landed lightly on my paws. I straightened myself and shook out my fur to bask in the warm light.

"See? You're not that wolfish, this'll work like a charm!" I did my very best to glare up at Dean, the top of my head even with his chest. "Don't give me that look."

I huffed and turned away from him, making my way toward the police station. He followed, keeping up with my lanky strides.

"Maybe you should wag your tail for a better effect," he said. I snapped my furred head to his and pulled back pink gums to reveal deadly fangs. "I'll take that as a no." He said with a chuckle.

The waiting room of the police station was rather small, with only a few couches, a small coffee table, a TV showing the local weather, and a tall, fake plant standing in the corner. I surveyed the rooms, earning strange glances from the bustling officers and lawyers migrating up and down the hall.

Dean was sweet-talking the receptionist and she was soaking it up like a sponge, twirling a piece of ginger hair in her fingers. Finally, he flashed his stolen badge at her and her blue eyes widened.

"What can I do for you, sir?" she asked and moved away from her computer monitor to give him her full attention.

"No need to call me sir, sweetheart. I'm off duty, I just need to speak to one of your officers." He flashed her his winning smile. I nudged my head against his thigh, an indication to skip the flirting. He pushed my head away with his hand.

"Well, what are you here for Mr. Washington? I'm sure I can find someone willing to help you," she batted her eyelashes at him. I had enough of this and leaned up to place my head on the counter, standing nearly on the tips of my toes. She squeaked and I flattened my ears against my skull.

"Sorry miss, this is my police dog," he said, glaring at me. I kept my eyes trained on the receptionist. "She goes with me pretty much everywhere, even when I'm off duty." I huffed, my hot breath fanning her face. She scrunched her nose in distaste and turned back to Dean. "We're here about a missing person. I was having a few drinks with my cousin last night, and he's gone missing now."

"Oh, that's horrible," she said, puckering her lips at Dean and lowering her lashes. Before she could open her wide mouth again, I jumped, placing my two forepaws on the counter. She jumped and glared at me. "Bad dog. Shoo," she said, gesturing for me to hop down. I glared at her and she faced Dean once more, rather uneasy. "You're in luck, Mr. Washington. The Deputy who handles most of our missing person's cases is in today. Go straight down the hallway to your right, it's the third door on the left."

Dean thanked her and shot me a quick glare, to which I replied with a dramatic wag of my tail. He rolled his eyes and made his way down the hallway. We stopped at a door with the name 'Deputy Kathleen Hudak' printed on the front in gold letters. Dean and I looked at each other once more before he pushed the door open for me and I sauntered in.

The deputy looked rather shocked to see a legitimate wolf walk into her office, nearly spilling her coffee on herself. She looked visibly confused as Dean introduced himself.

"Uh… what can I do for you, Officer Washington?" Hudak asked.

"I'm working on a missing persons case. You see, my cousin and I were having a few drinks at the bar last night, the one down by the highway." She raised an eyebrow at Dean and he disregarded it, continuing with his mostly true story. "He left a few minutes before me, we were going to drive back together. He disappeared though, haven't seen him since."

Hudak pondered this for a moment before speaking. "How drunk was he?"

Dean chuckled. "Sammy? He could take two shots and pass out." He made a motion with his hand, much like an airplane crash. Kathleen looked unamused.

"I'm sure he's fine Mr. Washington, he'll probably wake up in a bush soon and give you a call. I don't think you need to worry." She moved to return to her computer screen, but I stopped her with a light growl. She frowned at me and then turned to Dean with a scowl on her face. "You know, I've never heard of the state police being allowed to have wolf-dogs as their K-9 companions."

"She is pretty special," he said, giving me an affectionate pat on the head. "Very well trained. I swear, sometimes I wonder if she thinks like a human." He flashed her a reassuring smile.

She paused once again before speaking. "Alright, Gregory," she started, using his ID's first name. "If we're going to find your cousin, we need to do it properly-" she reached for a piece of paper beside the copy machine behind her. "- So I'm going to have to ask you to fill out a missing persons report so we can make a case out of it."

"Officer," Dean interjected, his tone serious. Hudak turned back to face him. "This county seems to have a lot of missing cases. How many of those people actually come back?"

The two stared each other down and my eyes flitted back and forth between them. Finally, Hudak gave in. "What did you say your cousin's name was?" she asked, seating herself in front of her computer and pulling up a registry. Dean beamed at her.

"Sam Winchester."

She typed the name in as I moved to sit beside her. She spared me an uneasy glance before continuing. "So you're aware that his brother, Dean, was suspected of murder and died in St. Louis a few months ago?" At this, I rolled my eyes and tucked my head down, hiding my all too human gaze from the officer. I held my breath, waiting for the moment she pulled up Dean’s record out of curiosity and we were busted.

"Yeah, Dean. Kind of the black sheep of the family. Handsome though," his chuckle soon turned into one of discomfort as the officer and I looked unamused by him. "I think I'm seeing double," he said nervously. Kathleen and I turned to face each other, twin frowns on our faces.

She exhaled slowly, taking in the image of Sam's face on the screen. "I'll head to the County Works Department, see what I can dig up."

"I saw an old set of cameras outside the bar. Maybe one of those saw what grabbed my brother." Deputy Hudak still looked unconvinced. "Mind if I tag along, officer? I promise you won't even know I'm there." She glared suspiciously at Dean and then at me. I wagged my tail at her for good measure.

—

I had never ridden in the back of a sheriff's car before, and I have to say I never want to do it again. Hudak had left me in the car, windows rolled down a bit, while Dean waited for her outside. She came out not long after with a stack of paperwork in her hands. I pricked my ears, straining to listen to their conversation. All I gathered was that they had an idea as to the perpetrator's truck based on a new-looking license plate and the 'whining-growl' of an engine.

It was hot in there, even with the windows open, and dark. I wasn't fond of it. The only good thing about it was that there was room to stretch out in my furred form. Dean's car had little room to stretch out as a human, and he certainly wouldn't allow me to get fur all over his car.

I huffed and laid my head on my paws as they made their way back to the car. As soon as Dean sat down and shut the door behind him I was immediately upright and leaning my chin on the back of his seat. The Deputy's car rumbled as she started it and crept forward like some hulking beast. I dropped my head on the center console and stared out the front window. Dean’s fingertips wound into my fur and scratched my ears. I glared from the corner of my eye.

“She’s a good girl,” Kathleen said with a warm smile.

“Sure is,” Dean answered, giving me a few dramatic pats. I made a sound low in the back of my throat and pulled away from him. He was going to get an earful later.

"That string of traffic cams only goes 50 miles down the road," Kathleen began, as she turned onto the highway. "I lost the truck at the end of the cameras, so they've got to have taken a back road 50 miles or more down the road."

Dean grunted in response. "They've probably got a lot of private roads in this area huh?" Kathleen hummed in response and the car fell silent once more, with Dean trying to strike up the occasionally odd conversation and Kathleen shooting him down.

I eventually closed my eyes, listening to the roar of the car engine and enjoying the feeling of Dean's fingers running through my fur. My eyes snapped open upon hearing a loud beep from the monitor in front of the center console.

She turned the monitor towards her, reading what it had to say before locking her eyes back on the road. I sat up and shifted behind her to look at the screen. I whined softly.

Shit.

"So Gregory," she began. I paced on the seat nervously, thinking about my options. "I ran your badge number. Turns out, it was stolen not too long ago." I whined again and Dean looked helplessly between me and the cop. "Look. It even had a picture of you." She turned the monitor to face Dean, showing her a picture of a much larger black man.

Dean chuckled nervously, looking between her and the monitor as she slowly pulled over. "I lost some weight-" he started. "- And I got that Michael Jackson skin thing done-"

"OK," Kathleen interjected. "I'm going to need you to step out of the car."

Dean protested and they argued back and forth while I paced. I couldn't attack her, what if I accidentally bit her or maimed her? And if I did we'd be in even more trouble. What was I supposed to do, sit on her and hope she suffocated in my fur?

"Kathleen," he began, a tone mixed with danger and pleading. "Look into my eyes and tell me I'm not lying about this." I whined, having missed the majority of their argument in my own frantic state. Her eyes flitted between mine and his. Dean's were stern, full of confidence.

"You've given me no choice, I have to take you in," she said quietly.

"You can take me in after we find Sam. He's my responsibility. I have to at least make sure he's alright." Was he that stupid, willingly turning himself in? So blindly faithful?

The two stared each other down for the longest time, neither backing down. Finally, she dropped her gaze and muttered an 'OK'. "After we find Sam Winchester."

I whined loudly, dropping my head back onto the back of her seat. She chuckled and pointed a finger at me. "And you, I knew you weren't a police dog. You've got to be at least 87% wolf, there is no way they'd allow you to be part of the canine unit." I cast Dean a knowing look.

I had never hated a car ride more in my entire life. The tension in the air was almost palpable, I felt like I was choking on it. The only thing that kept me grounded in that swirling sea of emotions was searching out the scent of cherries amongst the scent of anger. I hoped to God that I would never have to be in a situation like that again, but with the Winchesters it was unlikely.

"Wait, wait, pull over here!" Dean suddenly exclaimed, pointing out the window to his right. I lifted my shaggy head and searched for what he was pointing at, seeing a not well-managed road. Kathleen pulled the car over as Dean had asked and hopped out of the car before it had even stopped. I moved to jump into the front seat and follow him, but Kathleen held an arm out, blocking me. She quietly told me to stay put and I growled in response. There wasn't much I could do to oppose her without giving myself away.

"This is the first turn-off I've seen so far," I heard Dean say through the car door. It was hard to hear, but not impossible. My nose was practically flattened against the glass as I watched the pair make their way down the worn road.

"You stay here, I'll check it out," she told Dean. He looked at her like she was crazy.

"No way," Dean answered.

"Hey!" she hissed, stopping and facing him. "You're a civilian, and a felon, I think. I'm not taking you with me."

Dean glanced down the road, obviously mulling over his options. I knew he wouldn't fight her unless he really had to, but nothing was going to get between him and Sam.

"You're not going without me," he answered, shaking his head at her. Hudak sighed in frustration, looking once more at the car. We locked eyes and I barked at her, scratching at the glass. It was so irritating, knowing I had the capabilities to be helpful, but just couldn't in this situation. Stupid, stupid, stupid, I knew we shouldn't have gone with this plan.

"Alright," Kathleen started again. "You promise you won't get involved? That you'll let me handle it?"

Dean nodded vigorously. "Yeah, I promise." I huffed, my breath steaming the glass. Even I wasn't convinced by that.

"Shake on it."

Oh God, don't do that-

It was too late, the handcuffs were already clasped onto his wrist. Dean swore as she dragged him to the Driver's side door and fastened him to the handle, locking the door behind her. "Kathleen!" he called after her. "I really think you're going to need my help."

"I'll manage," she retorted. I growled and scraped once more at the door as she walked away from the car. Dean peered through the window at me, tipping his head as a sign that I should get out. I felt my bones snap and rearrange as I shifted back in my seat, shaking out my hair and readjusting my own clothes.

I looked out the passenger side window, waiting for her to disappear out of sight before opening the door and quickly locking it behind me so as to stop its incessant beeping.

"She took the keys with her," Dean said hurriedly, struggling with the cuffs.

"I know, I saw." I marched around the car and towards the worn path.

"Where are you going!?" Dean called after me, panic in his voice.

"To find Sam!" I called back. "Someone has to make sure they don't get themselves killed, and you'll figure out some way to get out."

"What if she comes back and sees you're not in the car?"

"Stall!" I said as I ran forward and jumped into my furred form, running down the beaten path. I ran after her, by now she must be far ahead of me. I had to catch up, or else she would have no backup.

I skidded to a halt as a dirty old wooden house came into view, not unlike the one where I had met Marcus and Caeden. This house screamed 'hillbilly' like no other I had seen.

On the front porch stood Deputy Hudak, talking to a ragged-looking little girl, whose hair was matted and dirty. I could practically smell the scent of filth on her from here. She was very clearly human. I ducked behind a clump of trees and surveyed the yard, seeing multiple odd buildings, like makeshift barns. One stood out to me as the dim sunlight, hooded by clouds, reflected off heavy steel doors. It clicked that that must be where they were holding Sam.

I moved to take a step forward towards Sam's location, only to hear a loud crash from the front porch. Shocked, I realized another human had attacked Deputy Hudak, a heavy shovel in his hands and scowl on his inbred face.

He snarled something at the little girl and she went off around the house. Not even moments later, two more, who looked like brothers, walked around the house and headed down the road back towards Hudak's car, her keys in hand.

My mind was reeling at this point. I knew I had three options – save Hudak, find Sam, or return to Dean and help him before the hillbillies got there. None of the options were good ones, as doing one would only compromise the others.

I was thoroughly screwed.

I didn't have time to panic, but I couldn't help but watch in horror as the oldest hillbilly took Deputy Hudak, throwing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carrying her to the barn where I presumed they were holding Sam. They couldn't kill her yet, I knew that – if a cop was able to find them, then they would have to ask her if there were more on the way.

I snapped my head to the left, down the road where the two brothers were sauntering towards Hudak's car, laughing as they went. If they found Dean there, they'd surely kill him, or worse, and he was in no position to find them.

Before I had realized it I had made up my mind and was racing through the marshy woods towards the Deputy's car. Kathleen would be alright for now – if my hunch was right, she would have Sam. But Dean needed help now.

I didn't even bother with trying to be quiet. I thundered through the woods, breaking twigs and crunching leaves under my heavy, padded feet. My ears were flattened against my skull and I stretched myself to my full length, each stride covering an incredible amount of distance. The burning in my muscles was one I had come to enjoy, but I didn't have time to revel in it now.

In no time at all the car was coming into view. I had passed the brothers, but that still only gave me a limited window of time. As soon as my paws hit the gravel pavement surrounding the car I leapt into the air. Using the hood of the car as a springboard I lept once more and shifted midair, landing on my two feet and skidding, nearly falling.

Dean looked utterly shocked to see me. He was splayed out against the side of the car, reaching for the little antennae on the end. My still golden eyes settled on it and I raced towards it, unscrewing it hastily and handing it to Dean.

"We need to get out of here," I told him harshly. "Now," I snarled as he still stood dumbfounded. He jumped into action, eyes still wide with shock. While he worked to discard any trace of us being there, removing my own paw prints and the imprint of Dean and Hudak's shoes in the mud.

Finally, the handcuffs dropped to the ground and I quickly picked them up. Before Dean could utter a single word I took his wrist in my hand and dragged him behind me into the woods. We ran, Dean confused but willing to comply, our feet softly hitting the ground, us being careful not to make too much noise. It was only when Dean heard the guffawing and laughter of the brothers that he realized.

He opened his mouth to say something, turning to me with wide eyes. His expression turned from one of worry to one of shock when I pressed a finger to my lips.

We didn't say a word as we traveled silently through the woods. It wasn't until the main house was in sight that I took off at a dead sprint, Dean hot on my heels. I skidded to a halt in front of the barn doors and Dean nearly barreled into me. I helped him right himself, our faces close together.

"They're in here," I whispered, tapping the metal. He gulped, searching my still golden eyes. I realized they hadn't returned to their normal color, due to the stress of the situation. I was struggling to keep my fur from bursting out.

I was terrified of what we would find behind that door. I was terrified of the people that had taken Sam and Kathleen. I was terrified because never in my life had I experienced something like this. Before meeting the Winchesters I had been in only a few fights, none of them major like Chikaltio's. I was not prepared for this new lifestyle of having to fight to survive in a world that now knew of my existence. I was not prepared to have people rely on me, to call me their leader or their friend.

I was so scared that I was going to lose two people that I had begun to call my friends, my family, and that there was nothing I could do about that. That's why my eyes stayed that molten gold color, and I think Dean understood that.

Before I knew what was happening Dean was pushing the heavy metal door open, revealing a dark, open room. It smelled of sweat and dirt, making my nose crinkle in disgust. Light filtered in and illuminated the large room, and in the dim lighting I could see two large, metal cages and figures concealed within them.

"Sam?" Dean whispered and stalked into the barn with me to his back. I turned away from the cages, watching the entrance to make sure no one was going to sneak up on us.

"Dean? Is that you?" I heard Sam's voice from behind me. I struggled to pinpoint his scent, thoroughly unable to. It was as if the sound was detached from his body like he wasn't really there. I couldn't sense him, feel him in the room and that alone made my hackles rise. The scent of blood and death and grime was far too overwhelming.

After many hushed whispers, Dean had successfully deduced the workings of the cages. "These are going to be a bitch," he muttered to no one in particular. Sam chuckles, a sound that brought a smile to my lips after the stress of the last twenty-four hours.

"So, what was it, Sammy? What managed to grab you?" Dean asked quietly, fiddling with the mechanism that locked the cages. maybe he could unlock it without the key.

Sam chuckled again, leaning against the bars of the cage. "Dean, they're just people."

Dean stopped his fiddling and turned to his brother with wide eyes. "And you let them get the jump on you?" he scoffed playfully and shook his head before turning to me. "I'm not going to be able to unlock it like this. I have to find the key. Stay here, see if you can get them out," he whispered to me, placing a rough hand on my shoulder. "And if any of those wackos get in here, I don't care what you have to do, keep them away from Sam and Hudak until I get back." His tone was low and filled to the brim with hatred for the monsters that had taken his brother.

I nodded, holding his steely gaze with an equally ferocious one. He nodded back to me and took a step towards the door. Without thinking, I reached out and grabbed his hand as it slid from my shoulder, halting him in his tracks. "Be careful," I whispered. "I don't want to have to come rescue your ass."

He smirked and turned once more towards the door, disappearing into the gloomy, mid-day light.

"You know Sam, maybe we should put your brother in one of these after this. He might get a little less annoying after being cooped up in here," I teased in an attempt to lighten the mood as I reached for the bars of his enclosure.

Sam barked out a laugh. "I doubt it. He'd get whiny real quick." My grin only widened.

"We're going to get you out of here soon," I said, turning my golden gaze onto Kathleen. "Both of you." I strode towards her makeshift prison and met her suspicious glare. "Hi, Kathleen."

She frowned at me. "Who the hell are you? Did you let him out of those cuffs?" I heard Sam snort behind me, struggling to hide his laughter.

"You handcuffed Dean?" Sam asked, his half-hearted smothering of his laughter failing miserably.

"Course I did. I had already guessed that he was a felon after I realized he wasn't who he said he was," she snapped back. "I just want to know who the hell you are and how you found us here. Did you follow us? Are you one of them?"

I scoffed. "Lady, I've been with you the whole time. You pet me multiple times. Do you really not recognize me?" I stood up and spread my arms wide, resisting the strong urge to say 'ta-da'. Her eyes widened as it dawned on her just what I was suggesting.

"No fucking way."

"Yeah, fucking way," I said, a characteristic wolfish grin rising on my features. I sat back on the floor across from her. "I'm really sorry you got caught up in this. This isn't our usual thing, typically it's ghosts and stuff."

Sam started uttering my name with a warning tone. I knew he didn't like it when humans were told about what goes bump in the night. I silenced him with a glare.

"She's going to learn soon enough, Sam. Besides, she’ll arrest us otherwise.” Sam fell silent, an unhappy glare on his face. I sighed and turned back to Kathleen who looked like a deer caught in the headlights. "I'm really sorry you had to find out like this – I'm sorry you had to find out at all. But monsters are real. Those inbred assholes out there aren't like me though. They're just pieces of shit.”

We sat and talked, the three of us, and it felt almost normal. I nearly forgot about the iron bars separating us and just did my best to explain things to Kathleen; the Winchester's lives, my life, and all the dark things that really were hiding under her bed as a little girl. I did regret having to tell her, but it was better this way. I knew I was going to bash some heads sooner or later and I'd rather her be prepared than die from shock. I flinched at every passing sound outside the bar, fear and anxiety rising amongst all three of us. What was taking so long?

A rustling from outside the dim barn caught my attention. "Shit," I whispered, realizing what it was. Footsteps. I lunged to the side, hiding amongst the shadows as the door to the barn flew open and in walked one of the inbred cannibals.

I resisted the urge to snarl, realizing that if he was here, Dean was most likely caught- or worse. The man pulled a set of keys from his pocket and went to the control panel without saying a word, a shotgun slung over his shoulder. He turned the key, pressed a button, and strode over to Sam's cage before the door had even unlatched.

Sam glanced in my direction, worry adorning his features. His intense gaze flitted around his cage before landing on a small object by his foot, which he promptly grabbed. I half stood, prepared to throw myself into the fray. In the blink of an eye the man's gun went off and Sam was launching himself at the hillbilly, a growl of absolute rage leaving his lips. The two tussled on the floor, Sam beating the living daylights out of him. Finally, he snatched the gun from the man and hit him in the side of the head with it.

"Lee!" I heard the older man distantly scream for his son, likely wondering what was taking him so long. He called out for his son a few more times before everything went silent. I stood from my place in the corner and made my way to Sam, avoiding the downed hillbilly.

"Sam, get Kathleen out of there. I'll keep watch." Sam nodded and I shifted, once more shaking out my fur. I heard a gasp from Kathleen as if she only now believed what I had told her.

I licked my lips, my tongue running over the harsh points of my fangs. It wasn't long before Sam got the cage door open, just in time for us to hear the pounding of feet outside. We scattered as silently as possible. I watched as Sam disappeared around a corner and Kathleen climbed a hayloft. I hid behind an old crate, scraping along on my furred belly to stay hidden.

The heavy door flew open and my ears pricked, golden eyes watching the deranged father and son duo sweep through the main room, shotguns held high. I pulled my gums back and silently snarled, following them through the rooms.

I heard shots go off and stalked towards the noise, fangs bared and ears flattened against my skull. I heard a scream, like a war cry and I lunged into the room to find Kathleen wrapped around the only remaining son, squeezing his throat until I thought his eyes would pop out of his skull. I ducked as he waved his gun wildly.

Kathleen went flying, landing roughly on her back. The man screamed, aiming his gun toward her. I snarled and slammed into him, pushing her away from him. The gun went off, blasting a hole in the wall behind Kathleen. She stood and I pushed off the man, using him as a springboard and landing at her feet, skidding in the hay.

"Hey!" I heard Sam shout, catching the man's attention. He swung his shotgun towards Sam, who ducked at the last moment and fired. The bullet made contact with the soft flesh of his father's shoulder.

Sam rushed forward while the man was stunned and delivered a hefty punch. The man dropped his gun and swung back with all his might. Sam fell, knocked over by the force of the punch.

No, no, no, not Sam. I lunged at the man, sinking my teeth into his dirt-covered arm and tearing at the muscle. He screamed, and the sound brought me satisfaction. My fangs sunk into his shoulder and he screamed louder this time. I ground my teeth into his shoulder, crushing the bone in my jaws. I could feel it crumble as blood gushed into my mouth. Anything to keep him off Sam, off my friend.

I could feel him battering my sides, his screams falling on deaf ears and his fists feeling like flies against my skin. I couldn't hear anything but his screams. I tasted something metallic on my tongue.

Oh.

I roared and tore at the man's other shoulder. My top fangs sunk deeply into the dip of his collar bone, hooking underneath it. I ripped and tore until the bone came loose, taking the muscle with it. My claws curled into his soft flesh, my forepaws digging into the soft tissues of his upper arms. I felt blood gush between my toes. As soon as I felt it, I tore. I practically devoured his screams.

I vaguely heard someone screaming from behind me somewhere in the other room. A gun went off, but I paid no mind. I thought I heard Sam calling out to someone, but my mind was elsewhere.

I sunk my teeth back into his chest, my teeth coming in contact with his ribs. I pulled, satisfied at the cracking I heard. My muzzle was drenched in blood, but I didn't care. I just wanted him gone.

I wasn't sure when I tore out his lungs, but I know I did. They lay in a bloody heap beside me, along with a string of his organs that I had rooted through. He wouldn't be alive much longer. Something told me I had to make the most of it.

It was then that my eyes settled on his heart, faintly beating, but still doing its best to keep him alive. My world tilted and suddenly I felt like I was falling.

I heard screams, screams I remembered well.

Why are you afraid? I didn't mean to…

What did I do wrong? Are you crying?

Why are you bleeding?

I breathed heavily, my eyes befalling his heart once more. I swallowed, trying to hold back the wave of saliva and the pangs of hunger that consumed me. I bared my fangs, my nose practically pressed to his weakly beating organ at this point.

My ears were ringing. I couldn't hear. I could barely see. But I could taste. I could smell.

Don't do it.

My ears pricked at the whisper. I snarled and bared my fangs once more, huffing, my own heart squeezing, and my sides convulsing in hunger.

I wanted to vomit. What was I doing? I shook my head, trying to shake away the feelings of red, the wrath and fear I felt. I was warring with myself, mixing two worlds together.

What are you doing?

I don't know. Am I hurting you?

No.

Are you sure? What about now?

That hurts... What are you doing? Stop! STOP IT HURTS!

STOP.

STOP.

STOP.

"Stop!" I heard a familiar scream from beside me. I snarled, my teeth fixed around the man's no longer beating heart. I turned my fiery gaze to my verbal assailant, only to lock my molten eyes on a pair of candy apple green ones.

Dean held my gaze, his own filled with fear. A look I had hoped I would never have directed towards me again. My eyes widened at the sudden realization of what I had done.

The red faded. I removed my teeth from that man's heart with a whine, blood slipping down my jaws. I stumbled backward, tripping over my own feet and drunk with blood lust. Dean reached towards me, and I snarled at his hand, the red returning at the edges of my vision.

Don't touch me. I don't want to hurt you too. I tried to scream, but it only came out as a piercing howl. My panicked eyes fell on what I had done. What had I done?

My fur rippled and my bones snapped, changing shape without my consent. My whine really did turn into a scream, a bloodcurdling scream full of anguish and fear. I didn't have the control over my forms that I once had. My clothes ripped as they appeared in patches across my skin, emerging from beneath my skin as my fur receded.

I sobbed, choking on blood and wrapping my own blood-stained arms around me. I felt numb. Afraid. I spat onto the straw-covered floor.

Suddenly, a pair of warm arms were wrapped around me, a jacket being draped around my shoulders. Once more, I couldn't see. My tears betrayed me, blurring everything around me.. I couldn't see. I couldn't hear.

But I could smell. Blood. Death. Fear.

Cherries. 

[dedicatednotobsessed]

Bound in Fire and Blood [Aemond Targaryen x Reader]

Previous chapter || Series masterlist || Other HOTD stories [requests open]

Summary: You are the younger twin sister of Aemond Targaryen and the second youngest child to King Viserys and Queen Alicent. Growing up you were extremely close to your twin brother, practically inseparable and as you continued to grow, you realized your feelings for him were more than just a sibling love….

TRIGGER WARNING: This is a story of incest (obviously, it’s Game of Thrones). It contains strong depictions of sexual content and blood. Please read at your own risk.

Warnings in this chapter: Contains spoilers for episode eight, The Lord of the Tides.

A/N: Sorry for the delay of updates. It is most likely going to stay to once a week updates from now on. But every day or every other day I’m trying to fulfill one shot requests about HOTD characters + actors (Ewan Mitchell being the most requested 🥰). If you would ever like a request, just drop one through my ask box. 💚

Chapter Seventeen: The Calm Before the Storm

Gif doesn’t belong to me 💚

Three years later

The gods seemed to be smiling down on the twin green dragons, as though they knew they made the right decision. Princess Helaena shortly became Aegon II’s second wife and they were to quick to have children; twins by the name of Jaehaera and Jaehaerys who were coming close to their third name day and a babe that was only a few months old by the name of Maelor. You did feel horrible that Helaena had to marry Aegon in the end, although she reassured you it was her duty of House Targaryen and she cares more that you are happy with Aemond.

You had your hands clasped in front of you while standing in the courtyard with a small smile on your lips. Your arms cupped around your budding stomach that was barely noticeable, the only ones knowing that you were with child a second time were your mother and siblings. Your father was the only one to not know; you were waiting for the right moment but it was as though it never seemed to be the right time. Your trips to see him with Vhaenys at night even became less frequent.

You watched as Aemond tried to block Ser Criston’s strikes, only for his shield to be knocked out of his hand by Morningstar. You smirked lightly knowing he was not going to take that well. As the two of you got older, the more aggressive of a swordsman he became.

As more people gathered around to watch the young Prince, the louder the whispers became, although it was not about the Targaryen prince. Rhaenyra and her family were to arrive today for the trial of her second eldest son’s parentage and claim to the throne on Driftmark. Everyone knew the truth and that was that Lucerys along with Jacaerys and Joffrey were bastards.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Aemond got the upper hand and a wide smile came onto your lips. You giggled while clapping for him, everyone cheering.

Criston laughed a bit, the sweat beading down his forehead. “Well done, my prince,” He said, still catching his breath a bit. “You will be winning tourneys in no time.”

“I don’t give a shit about tourneys,” Aemond began, turning his gaze ahead of him. “Nephews…have you come to train?”

You turned to look at his direction, noticing Jace and Luke. You frowned a bit while looking over them. Lucerys looked nervous, terrified even meanwhile his elder brother had a look of anger and disgust.

You walked closer to Aemond with a small smile and kissed his cheek lightly, his gaze turning to you. “Well done, my husband,” You whispered while placing a hand on his arm, your violet eyes wandering back to your nephews.

“Thank you, love,” Aemond replied and turned to get his shield back.

You sighed and looked down at your hands, glancing back up to your nephews. In the nine years that you have not seen them, you have learned forgiveness. You knew though your husband has not been the same way.

Everyone’s attention turned to the gates when it opened, Lord Vaemond walking through with a handful of guards. He had a smug look on his features as he passed by the group, his eyes on Lucerys.

“Aemond, we should go,” You spoke softly grabbing onto his arm once more.

“Why? I want to catch up with my sweet nephews,” Aemond said with a taunting tone to his voice.

“Aemond,” You scowled, your voice firm.

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“Why do you defend them?”

“What?” You asked laughing a bit.

“Those bastards,” Aemond clarified watching you grab a shawl to drape over yourself. Your stomach may have been small, but the wrong person could notice and gossip would surely spread. “You were quick to go to their side.”

“Aemond,” You said with a sigh and walked close to your husband. You held onto his arm lightly and smiled when he looked at you. “You are being paranoid. I am always going to side with my husband.”

Aemond looked over you and let out a sigh. “I know you would choose me over them. I do not need to be paranoid.”

You giggled as he began to lead you to the throne room. “I would always choose you, my love.”

You stood on one side of the throne room, your eyes settled on the Blacks who was not too far away. Due to your father’s health, your grandsire was in charge of the trial. You knew it would give Rhaenyra and her son an unfair advantage although you dared not say it out loud.

You glanced towards Aegon who stood on the other side of Aemond. You knew he was still hurt from your choice to annul the marriage and he has hardly acknowledged your existence since. It was clear how unhappy he was with his marriage to your elder sister though, yet you were relieved to finally be with the love of your life.

You wrapped the golden shawl tight around your body as Rhaenyra took the stand although she was interrupted when the doors opened. All heads turned as the King was announced, a small smile coming onto your lips. Even though he was so frail, it was relieving to see him.

It was hard to see him struggle towards the Iron Throne, although everyone respected his wish to let him climb the steps on his own. You kept a hand lightly on Aemond’s arm while your father’s brother helped him up the last few steps and onto the throne, your eyes wandering down as you lightly felt the leather of your husband’s jacket.

You took a deep breath as the court commenced, your eyes flickering up to Lord Vaemond while the Princess Rhaenys made a marriage pact. He clearly did not look pleased, protesting that he would not allow such actions.

“Say it,” You heard your uncle challenge Vaemond.

Vaemond had a smirk on his lips, his eyes connecting with Rhaenyra’s. “Her children…are bastards!” He shouted, his voice booming through the throne room. “And she…is a whore,” He spat, the venom clear in his voice.

You glanced over to your father as he brandished his knife. “I will have your tongue for that,” He threatened.

You closed your eyes remembering the threat your father made all those years ago. One would have their tongue cut out if they questioned the parentage of Rhaenyra’s three eldest sons.

You opened your eyes, gasping as Daemon suddenly sliced Vaemond’s head in two, his body collapsing to the ground, blood everywhere.

“He can keep his tongue,” Daemon said, leaning against his sword- Dark Sister- while looking up at his brother.

You looked up at your husband, a small frown on your lips as you squeezed his arm tightly while your mother quickly ushered you and your siblings out.

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You stood beside Helaena while everyone waited for the King, your father having wanted a dinner with his entire family again.

“Are you excited to be a mother again?” She whispered out, placing a hand on your stomach.

You giggled lightly with a soft smile and nodded. “Yes, I am and I know Aemond is too.”

“I can not wait to have another,” Helaena said a bit dreamily.

You smiled lovingly at your sister, knowing she was not happy with Aegon but she at least had her children. You glanced over when the doors opened and took your seat beside your husband.

You looked over at Aemond noticing his eye was set across the table, looking over at Lucerys and Rhaena; Luke was looking a bit worrisome but you knew Aemond was smart enough to not try anything at dinner. Not while your father was there at least.

You sighed as you took a sip of your wine after your prayer to the seven. You knew your mother was still not happy with what you said three years ago, yet you ended up getting what you wanted.

You smiled as the feast commenced after a heartfelt speech from Viserys. You knew the one thing that mattered most to him was family and it meant a lot for everyone to, at least pretend, to be cordial.

You stared at your husband when he stood up, his chair scraping across the floor. You held his hand to urge him back down and he only sat back down after Jace made a toast to him and Aegon. Aemond looked over at you, a glare settled on his face.

He jerked his hand away from yours, narrowing his eye a bit. You shook your head while frowning, looking down at your wine cup, taking a long drink of it. You were loyal to your husband, yet he needed to learn not when to act like a child.

You relaxed in your seat, frowning more when your father was carried out and sighed. You were about to stand up and announce you were retiring early, feeling a bit ill but quickly shut your mouth when the kitchen maids came in with a roasted pig. You stared at it while they sat in front of your husband, closing your eyes when you heard Luke laugh. You were not there for the pink dread prank but Aemond did complain about how embarrassed he was, his sole blame being on the bastards.

You jumped when Aemond suddenly punched the table and stood up with his cup raised. “Final tribute,” He declared. “To the health of my nephews: Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…hm…strong.”

“Aemond,” Your mother warned as you stood up.

A frown settled on your lips as he continued on; “Come…let us drain our cups to these three strong boys.”

“I dare you to say it again,” Jace said boldly, Aemond’s attention turning towards him with his cup still in his hand.

“Why? Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourself strong?”

Aemond chuckled as Jace suddenly punched him, Luke trying to help but Aegon pinned him to the table. Your husband only laughed, proud of his comment as he set his goblet down while your mother rushed over.

“Why would you say something like that in before all of these people?” She hissed.

“I was merely expressing how proud I was of my family, Mother,” Aemond began removing his arm from her grasp turning to Jace and Luke who were being held by the kingsguard. “Mm, though it seems as though my nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs.”

“Do not act like a child,” You hissed at your husband who turned his attention to you, shocked. You sighed at him before following your nephews out. “Jace,” You called softly. “Luke.”

The two turned and frowned at the sight of you. “Did you need something, aunt?” Jace asked softly.

You sighed softly, looking down at your hands with furrowed brows. “I want to apologize for Aemond’s antics.”

Jace shook his head a bit. “You should not be the one apologizing.”

“Yes, but he is still my husband.”

Jace gave you a small smile. “It is quite all right, really.”

You took a deep breath watching them begin to walk off once more. “Wait,” You called walking closer to the two of them. You frowned looking between the two boys, both spitting images of Ser Harwin Strong. “I forgive the two of you.”

“For what?” Luke asked, frowning.

“For what happened all those years ago…both sides were in the wrong and I believe now may be the only chance I can say my peace.”

Jace smiled lightly, taking your hands in his. “All is forgiven, aunt,” He said quietly and leaned up kissing your cheek lightly.

You returned his smiled, looking over at Luke although his gaze was elsewhere. You followed his gaze and frowned at the sight of Aemond who was clearly angry. You quickly left to be at your husband’s side, Aemond glaring down at you.

“We will discuss this matter on the morrow,” He hissed out, grabbing you roughly by the arm to lead you to your marital chambers.

You sighed while looking down with a frown, staying silent. You had a pit feeling in your stomach, not knowing what the morrow is going to bring.

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[acsredstringbrigade]

Now that everyone, not just Backers and Patrons have had a chance to listen to the first episode, here are my thoughts. Note, spoilers ahead for all of TMA and the the first episode.

First, I do adore our main cast. Sam and Alice are both very entertaining, and Colin is easily going to be a fan favorite. Im unsure about the tension between Lena and Gwen, but we will see where that goes.

Second, FR3-D1 is apparently an old computer program, and clearly related to some facet of the Eye, given its abilities to snoop through the entirety of the internet and get personal information that definitely violates GDPR. Though the fact that the computers are this old, perhaps they are still analog, allowing them to get around the digital issues that were encountered in the previous podcast. Though there is some irony in an Eye based program searching through the World Wide Web for information.

Next, the added voices. The first two of the three are obviously Martin and Jon, aka Norris and Chester. The third voice, Augustus ... the only person I can think of who would have been pulled into an eye based program with them had to be Jonah. I almost wish it would have been Anabelle, and I do hope to see her later on, but with the masculine name, and a name that sounds as old-fashioned as Augustus, really couldnt be anyone else.

Then, that first incident (yes, I am calling them incidents, not statements, as they are ... distinct in important ways) was fascinating. Obviously, elements of the Corruption are laced throughout, but what fascinates me is how many other facets could be identified there. Stranger, End, Dark, and maybe Spiral. That, plus the fact that the computer can only take one code for each incident ... something is going on there, and it is something that may cause problems for our protagonists later on.

The interview between Lena and Gwen was interesting. (I will come back to this in a later post. There's a lot to unpack, but it is being overshadowed by the next point)

And finally, the incident involving RedCanary. The Canary puns are easily made, though canary in the coal mine seems to be the one they were going for, given the "Canaries dont belong underground" comment. Also, it seems as though the institute itself served as the Panopticon did in the first universe, the offices serving as the cells, and the top floor almost certainly the panopticon itself. That and the ritual down in the archives themselves was likely the place where Magnus died.

The blood stains, the symbols on the floor matching those on a carved box. And we don't know what the picture itself was of, since the moderator removed the image. But based on the reactions of those in the thread, it was some sort of gore, and something involving eyes.

I see two major possibilities. Either something like what happened to Albrect Von Closen, and the man died of internal eyes, and whatever had stalked him posted the picture of his dead body. Or, RedCanary was trying to post a picture of the box for a while before, and it finally posted after he opened it, revealing a set of eyes inside. If the latter is true, those are most certainly Magnus' eyes aka Raymond Fielding from Hilltop Road and the spider box. Either way has implications, and I am fascinated to see which theory holds more water.

Odd that The Magnus Institute had been put on the list of buildings that had already been cleared. Theoretically, that is a list that only a few people use. Then again, I am not a spelunker, so I dont know how tight-knit the community is. I wonder who put it on that list.

Similarly, who or what removed all the paper? Not even pulpy traces of ash? Where are all of the records of the archive?

And for that matter, who burnt down the Institute?

[omgpurplefattie]

WIP Wednesday

The Lotus Eaters -- from the 1st chapter of the 4th Episode of "Research Vessel Lianhua Lou"

Fang Duobing PoV

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

He had booked his room for a standard week; hopefully, that would be enough to determine what killed the mail order brides in Lotus Bank House.

He walked over after breakfast and knocked onto the forbidding front door.

Then, he waited.

When he was close to giving up, the door opened, and an old woman with indigo skin and rust-gray hair opened, looking at him as if he was bringing the plague.

“The master is busy!” she declared, shaking her head. “You’re a tourist? The lotus ponds are open for viewing on Friday and Saturday evenings. Can’t you read the sign?”

He put his foot between the two heavy gates, risking a terrible bruise should she slam the door.

“The sign doesn’t apply to me,” he said. “I’m from the Hundred Rivers agency, here to find out about the young woman who drowned. The matchmaking company hired us, and I have an appointment with your boss.”

“Oh, that was such bad luck -- such bad luck!” the old woman wailed, opening the door wide. “She was already the third. The lotus in the ponds is jealous of its human masters.”

She waved him in, closed the door again, and then marched off, expecting him to follow.

The courtyard was full of workers, both domestic servants and commercial gardeners, all of them natives. The colors of their hair, skin and eyes shone like flowers in the sunshine.

Compared to them, old Mr. Guo was just plain and human, skin sallow and hair gray. He was very busy with three padds, a computer terminal and five scared workers reporting to him; but when Fang Duobing turned up, he dismissed them.

They fled, visibly relieved to get out of his presence.

“Of course, of course,” he said. “The matchmaking company wants to know what happened; we will tell you everything. Granny Rivers here will tell you it’s a curse; these aliens are terribly superstitious. They claim the lotus flowers are jealous.”

He smiled jovially and shook his head. Then, he ordered the old woman to bring some coffee.

“My son is of course devastated. Devastated! He was so looking forward to getting married and having kids of his own. It’s hard for us, the only humans among these aliens.”

Secretly, Fang Duobing felt the term ‘aliens’ was misapplied. These people were the natives of this planet. Humans were the aliens here!

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Four and One | Kirby Dach

Requested? Yes!! Let's go!!!

Warnings? A loooooottt of angst :)

Summary: You and Kirby continue to hurt each other unintentionally but there's promise for a truce

Word Count: 2,107 (strap in friends)

Four 

You sit in your room, giggling ridiculously loud with your best friend as Degrassi plays in the background. The episode had ended and the cut off of unreal lines has the two of you scream laughing at how bad the acting is. 

You calm down enough to wipe your tears and pick up your phone to check the time. The screen glares 9:45 pm and suddenly you’re slapped out of your happy demeanor. 

“Fuck!” you curse, dropping your phone back down and your best friend looks over at you in concern and confusion. 

“I missed Kirby’s game I was supposed to leave at 5,” you explain before flopping back on your bed and feeling like the worst best friend in the history of the universe. How could you forget his game? 

“Shouldn't he be back home by now?” your best friend questions. You take a second to look at your notifications, seeing not only did Kirby text you a million times, but Cole, Nick, Juraj, Arber, and what looks like half the habs team did. 

“Oh I suck,” you mutter out. 

Just as you’re about to type out a response to Kirby, begging for forgiveness and offering anything and everything to make it up to him, someone knocks on the door of your apartment. 

“You have 5 seconds to think of an excuse,” your best friend says, standing from your bed. 

You assume she’s headed towards the door and you slowly follow behind, watching as she swings open the door and Kirby is wearing his game suit, visibly frustrated by the whole situation. The two exchange words before Kirby steps into your apartment and you finally walk into the entryway. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Kirby says, just as you start to apologize. 

“I’m so sorry. I have no excuse, no good reason, nothing. I’m just sorry and I messed up big time I know that,” you say knowing that you had to own up to your mistakes. 

“My whole family was there. Everyone I love and care about. My 100th game and I scored twice. Every time I stepped on the ice I was looking for you and you weren’t there.” 

His words are knives slicing pieces of your heart off bit by bit. It didn’t help that you’re head over heels for your best friend standing in front of you and to watch him look so damn good in that suit and rip your heart apart with his words was a different type of pain. 

“Kirbs, I’m so sorry,” you say, taking a step towards him and reaching out to touch his arm only for him to pull back. 

“I’ll call you later.” 

His seemingly small six foot frame crumbles before you, stepping backwards until he’s out of your apartment and leaving you lonely in the hallway again. 

When the click of the door registers in Kirby’s ears, he finally lets the tears fall. He didn’t give a fuck about anyone else being at the game, he just wanted you. He wanted to score for you, celebrate with you, spot you in the crowd, watch your eyes light up and your smile stretch wide as he plays. 

But you let him down. 

Three

You could deal with it once. 

Once is forgivable. Once is understandable. Once is something you shrug at and tell them “no problem”. 

But after walking home from the restaurant for the third time in two weeks? It was bordering on unforgivable. After you had messed up and missed Kirby’s game, you had been making it up to him. However, now it feels like he was getting you back after standing you up three times in a row with zero explanation. 

You don’t even realize you’ve made your way to Kirby’s apartment complex until you’re standing outside the building and staring at the door wondering whether or not you should go in. Your petty side wins, heading up to the top floor in the elevator and proceeding to bang on his front door until you heard Kirby shout for you to stop. 

The minute the door cracks open, you’re storming in, angry words thrown out as you make your way inside his apartment. 

“Do you know how humiliating it is?” you snap, turning to face him. “Three times Kirby. Three!” 

You’re about to start on your next point of how horrible it is to have to watch people pity you for being stood up when Kirby glances towards his bedroom door. You follow his eyesight and you feel all emotions sink out of you when your eyes land on an unfamiliar girl standing in the doorway. 

“Sorry I heard yelling,” she says awkwardly, hands coming up to play with the neckline of what you recognize is Kirby’s shirt. 

“No it’s fine,” you let out. “I was just leaving.” 

Kirby physically winces at your words. He had been standing you up, had been ignoring your texts and calls and trying so desperately to get over whatever feelings held his heart captive. He didn’t want you to think that he was ditching you for just some fling though. However, he knew he couldn’t just admit his feelings for you and hope it would all work out the way he wanted. 

You offer the girl a pained smile before taking one last quick look at Kirby. He refuses to meet your eye and you feel the slice of pain in your heart a little sharper. You nod, as if convincing yourself you need to leave before this only gets worse and force your feet to move from underneath you. 

Thankfully, you make it outside the building before you start crying. 

Two 

You wait in the tunnel as Kirby gets changed and finishes out post game media. It had taken you a while to get over Kirby standing you up and finding him with some random girl, but you had a solid fight about it and eventually made up. You had decided together to let the past stay in the past. 

Slowly, players trickle out of the locker room. You smile and greet a few of them, let others run off to their wives and girlfriends. When it feels like forever has passed, you watch as Nick strolls out of the locker room. His face lights up seeing you and you can’t help the grin crawling up your lips as well. 

“Hi darling,” Nick greets, wrapping you up in a tight hug. “Waiting for Kirby?” 

“He’s taking forever,” you jokingly whine and Nick laughs against you. 

“Want a ride home?” he offers. 

You consider it for a moment, thinking that you should wait for Kirby to come out but you know you can always see him later but Nick you rarely see anymore. 

“I’d love that,” you respond. 

When Kirby walks out of the locker room, the only thing he’s looking forward to is seeing your face. He’s ready to be held in your arms and hear your soft voice and yet when he does walk out, there’s nothing. 

He convinces himself you had to have gone to the bathroom or stepped away for a minute and would be back any second. However, when he waits for ten extra minutes, he realizes you really did leave and his heart cracks a little. 

“Bro what are you still doing here?” Cole asks, finally leaving the locker room as well. 

“I was waiting for (y/n),” Kirby responds, still seemingly unsure of what had happened to you. 

“She left with Suzuki,” Cole says, like Kirby should have already known that information. 

“She,” he starts but trails off knowing he doesn’t have anything good to say. 

Cole gives him a pitying look, clapping him on the shoulder before walking off. Kirby looks around, seriously lost as to why you would just leave with Suzuki when you were supposed to spend post game with him. He needed you, needed your soft smile and reassuring words after the hard loss. 

But instead he has to go home alone.

One

Both you and Kirby had been pulling away. You knew on your end it was trying desperately to ignore or get rid of the feelings you had for your best friend. You were tired of hurting and being disappointed by Kirby and his actions. 

However, Kirby had just gotten back from a long roadie and had been missing you more than usual. He asked for you to come over and you promised to be on time. 

You gathered everything you’d need for a TV show marathon and headed over to Kirby’s place. You were dressed pretty lazily and offered to bring snacks for the night and Kirby had shot you a list of things he wanted. 

A wash of nerves flows over you as you get up to his apartment door. You push it down as you use your key to get in and pause just past the threshold when you hear more than one voice in the living room. 

“What about the one girl you’re always with?” you hear a soft voice ask, a girl no doubt but not one you recognize right away. 

“(y/n)? Nah she-” Kirby trails off and your heart skips when your name is released from his lips. “She’s nothing. Just a friend. We could never be together.” 

“And me and you?” the girl asks quietly, carefully. You hear a soft shuffle and the rustle of bodies moving closer. 

“Whatever you want baby,” Kirby whispers. 

You take the chance and peek around the wall into the living room and see Kirby kissing the unknown girl. Your hand slides to your mouth, desperate not to make a noise. You trace your steps back from where you came and the minute the door clicks shut behind you the tears flow freely. 

You never truly expected Kirby would confess his undying love for you. He didn’t drop hints that he secretly liked you, never explicitly said anything, or suggested there would be more. It seemed it would only just be friends. It didn’t make his confirmation hurt any less. 

And One

It’s been two weeks since you were supposed to have a TV show marathon with Kirby and now after what he thinks of you as ghosting him you weren’t answering a single text or call from him either. 

“What the fuck is going on with you?” Cole asks after a particularly rough practice for Kirby. 

“I’m just distracted man. Worried about (y/n),” he says, trying to shrug it off like nothing. 

“What happened?” Nick asks, tuning into the conversation. 

“I don't know man,” Kirby sighs. “We were supposed to hangout a few weeks ago at my place but she never showed up. I haven't heard anything from her since.” 

“Does she have a key to your apartment?” Cole asks. 

“Yeah?” 

“Was anyone at your apartment that night?” Nick asks. 

“Oh my god,” Kirby sighs out. “Oh my god!” 

It hits him like a ton of bricks all at once. What he said to Anna that night, the reassurance and the lies slipping from his lips. The sole focus on forgetting you, forgetting the intense feelings he has, the heartbreak he’s trying to avoid so desperately. 

You heard every word of it. 

He doesn't say another word to the boys, just grabs his stuff and heads to your apartment as quickly as humanly possible. When he gets there, he bangs on the door several times before listening to any movement that may have come from inside. 

“(y/n)!” he yells, still knocking on the door as hard as possible. 

“(y/n)!” he tries again, softer and more scared. 

“I know I fucked up,” he says, it’s almost a whisper but for some reason he knows you can hear him. He has the feeling you’re leaning against the door listening. 

“I know I did but,” he lets out a sigh. “don’t shut me out anymore. Let me in. please let me in.”

You lean your head against the door, closing your eyes and focusing on your heartbeat and the deafening silence on the other side. 

“Please darling,” Kirby begs quietly. 

You crack the door open and watch as Kirby’s eyes widen in surprise. You step to the side, letting the door open enough for Kirby to come in. He shuts it with a soft click and backs against it, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“I’m sorry,” he says and you’re not sure for what but you appreciate it anyway. 

“Can I,” he stutters. “Can we just-” 

You step forward, slipping your arms around his waist and he hesitates before grabbing you as tight and as close as possible. 

[seedofjoseph]

sweet talk

Fandom: Far Cry: New Dawn

Relationship(s): Joseph Seed x F!Judge; Polyseed feat. F!Judge

Rating: M (mature)

Words: 650

Author's note: This newest episode of my FC:ND AU is sweeter than the previous one (link). Check out the Jacob & John episodes here: link & link

"Right there," your voice shook, your heart skipped a beat and your hair stood on end. "R-right there," you opened your mouth wide, tossed your head all the way back, and sunk further down into the furs. "That's the fucking spot."

He tutted, halting his healing touch on your swollen sole. "No profanities."

"Are you f-" you bit your lip and swallowed the cuss word. And, because your craving for Joseph Seed's love ate away at you faster than any famine could, you begged the man sitting below you, on his knees, at your feet: "Please."

"Please what?"

"You know."

From atop his cot, you looked down at him with pleading eyes. As always, you found Joseph's clear, sky-blue eyes looking back. But, unlike most days, he clouded one by closing it. By winking.

"No," he opened both his eyes again. If you had blinked, you would've missed it. "I don't know, so you'll have to tell me," his hands latched onto the foot in his lap, lifting it. "And you'll have to do it without using cuss words."

"Father," you gasped out rather than speak up. "Please don't stop," you pushed the foot deeper into his warm palm. "Please, Father," you traced his lap with the toes still resting on it.

His eyes were fixated on yours, only moving to take in your mouth and the shape of it as his appellative passed your lips. Even so, the warmth of your bare sole seeped through his worn-out trousers, and all his blood flow was focused on that one spot over his crotch. And it only took one twitch for him to start pressing his thumb on your spot again.

The Father spoke softly as if the air around you had thinned. "You've been suffering in silence, haven't you?" His sigh was heavy and hot as it hit the chaffed flesh of your foot. "You hold your head up high even as your own legs buckle under you," he kissed your aching ankle where your old boots have been bruising you. "My sweet girl, why didn't you come to me sooner?" He continued circling the sweet spot on his sweet girl's sole. "My sweet, prideful girl," his free hand slid across his prideful girl's swelling belly.

You wanted to explain yourself by going over all the new calming concoctions Faith has come up with since your two previous pregnancies. And you wanted to excuse yourself by pointing out his holy man priorities which were many, the mother of his children being just one of them.

"Father," you laid back on the cot, into the furs. Then, you teased the swell in his pants as he traced the swell of your belly. "Please, I need it," you moaned, melting under him like ice caps in the nuclear summer. "I need you."

Now, as you looked at him through tearful eyes, you saw a storm forming in his. Through the thick lump in your throat, you called to him, and he climped up on all fours to join you in his cot. He looked at you and you knew that he was flesh and blood like you. You knew that this holiest of men was you man, and you were now, for the third time, of his flesh and blood. And he was now, for the third time, worshipping your bountiful body with the same awe you watched God's new world bloom.

"My sweet girl," he cupped your face, his forehead falling atop of yours. "My sweetest girl," he kissed each of your eyes close, then your lips, and, finally, he lifted your legs atop his shoulders and kissed his way down to your sweetest spot. "All you had to do was beg."

[captain-hen]

BUCK & EDDIE IN EVERY EPISODE ↳ 6.13: mixed feelings (2/3)

[Image Description: 10 gifs of Evan Buckley and Eddie Diaz from 9-1-1, season 6, episode 13.

Gif 1: Two gifs on a large canvas. The first gif, a shot of Buck and Eddie standing amongst the other firefighters in the loft in the station, looking satisfied as they wave their hands. Eddie says, "Okay. Come on, pay up." Buck says, "Let me see it. Yeah." Second, a shot of Buck and Eddie walking close together as Eddie neatly snatches the money out of Buck's hand, saying, "A fool and his money are soon...parted."

Gif 2: Two gifs on a large canvas. The first gif, the camera panning down to reveal Buck and Eddie, walking through an alley. Eddie is dressed in a blue suit jacket and a black turtleneck; Buck is wearing a burgundy suit jacket over a black button-up. Buck adjusts his jacket as he asks Eddie, who is on his phone, "So, what's with the fancy dress code?" The second gif, Eddie tucks his phone into his inner pocket, saying, "It's a nice place," as Buck continues to stare at him in confusion.

Gif 3: Two gifs on a large canvas. The first gif, looking hesitant, Buck stops Eddie, who turns around to face him with a sigh. Buck says, "Wait, wait. H—Hey, a—are we sure about this?" The second gif, Eddie reassures Buck, "Relax. It's a good place to put your new skills to use. Then maybe we can put 'em to use in Vegas."

Gif 4: Two gifs on a large canvas. The first gif, standing with his back yo the delivery entrance of a restaurant, Eddie says to Buck, who has just said that this is not gonna end well, "It's a low-stakes game." The second gif, a shot of Buck and Eddie next to each other, Eddie with a small smile, Buck looking startled, at the sight of Julie Rosen, who opened the door for them.

Gif 5: 2 small gifs, and one larger one on a large canvas. The first gif, while following Eddie and Julie into the restaurant, looking slightly alarmed, Buck whispers to Eddie, "Uh, hey, this isn't some kind of mob establishment, is it?" The second gif, Eddie looks over his shoulder at Buck, amused, and says, "It's a different kind of family." The third gif, the scene opens into a fancy-looking bar with warm and muted lighting. Buck pauses at the foot of the stares, smiling in surprise. Eddie walks over to greet the others with a wide smile.

Gif 6: Two gifs on a large canvas. The first gif, a shot of Captain Mehta, who winks at Eddie as he shakes his hand. The shot cuts to Buck, watching them, his smile fading slightly. The second gif, Eddie is already seated at a poker table, next to Julie. Buck makes to sit down close next to him.

Gif 7: Two gifs on a large canvas. The first gif, Mehta has just said that he can't believe Buck survived the lightning strike, to which Chief Williams replies, "Let's see if he survives tonight." Eddie smiles fondly at Buck, scrunching up his face when Buck turns his head to look at him. The second gif, Eddie in focus in the background of the shot as he corrects Chief Williams by saying that Buck was dead for three minutes and seventeen seconds. Buck is blurred in the periphery of the shot, looking serious and somber.

Gif 8: Two gifs on a large canvas. The first gif, a shot of Buck and Eddie sitting close together, Eddie raising his eyerbows at Chief Williams and Buck looking up at her, slightly alarmed. The second gif, Eddie watches intently as Buck pulls over a pile of chips to himself after winning the first round.

Gif 9: Two gifs on a large canvas. The first gif, Chief Williams has just said, "I've heard people that get struck by lightning sometimes develop special skills." Buck's eyes slightly widen and he glances over at Eddie before asking, "Uh...skills? Like, uh...like what? Woodworking?" The second gif, Buck looks over at Eddie again after Chief Williams says, "High-functioning stuff, like languages or music. Or math. You know, counting." The shot cuts to Eddie who swallows slightly as he says, "I'm out. Too rich for my blood."

Gif 10: Two gifs on a large canvas. The first gif, a shot of Buck leaning his head on his hand, smirking cockily at Williams and Mehta. It cuts to Eddie, now standing behind him, a gentle smile on his face. The second gif, after Buck sweeps the table yet again, it pans to Eddie smiling brightly and then turning and ducking his head.

/End ID]

[literatemisfit]

Hi! I don’t have a subscription so I can’t read this full article you posted.

https://www.tumblr.com/literatemisfit/720928934490980352/david-tennant-on-his-wife-georgias-cancer-scare

Could you possibly give a summary or copy/paste what it says (if you’re comfortable with it)? Especially that last part you mentioned as being especially sweet?

Somehow when I went to open it I also got stuck behind a paywall so they must have added one. But I was able to use incognito mode and get access to it anyway. I've copy pasted the entire thing for you so you can see what I mean by sweet ;)

See below:

Georgia Tennant is recalling the moment, at the start of the pandemic, when she realised she was going to be locked down with her husband. ‘David was supposed to be filming in South Africa,’ explains the 38-year-old actor and producer. ‘But then there was a series of phone calls, South Africa shut down, and he turned to me and said: “I’m not going back”.’

Georgia and I share a look that speaks volumes: about the slo-mo dawning experienced by wives all over the world when it became clear they would be trapped with the man they’d promised to love and cherish – but not, crucially, have lunch with every day for weeks on end. About what became more like the premise of a twisted reality TV show when those weeks turned into months

‘I remember having this sudden realisation…’ Glancing at her Scottish stage and screen star husband, Georgia pauses, blue eyes wide, and at this point I’m already smiling because I think I know what’s coming. ‘That, oh my gosh, David’s just going to be here, the whole time.’ I nod compassionately. ‘Which obviously I’d never had before.’ Another nod. We’ve all been there. 

‘And just thinking: that’s really exciting!’

Oh… It’s a needle-across-vinyl moment and I stop mid-nod and stare. Georgia and I are not on the same page. In fact, she seems to be reading an entirely different book: this wife can’t think of anything nicer than being holed up with her husband of 12 years.

‘We just really like each other,’ she says once all three of us have stopped laughing. ‘Even now, we like hanging out with each other more than we like hanging out with anyone else.’ Some might say that’s a pretty good basis for a marriage. ‘Exactly. And when all the kids are around it’s like a commune here, which I love.’

With a semi-apologetic shrug the 52-year-old Doctor Who and Broadchurch star confirms, ‘It’s true.’ There’s no way around it: he too just really likes his wife. ‘In fact, the more time we spend together the more we get on,’ he says. And although I’m not sure I can deal with any more bombshell revelations so early on in an interview, this is probably just as well. Because the Tennants didn’t just end up marooned on the couch together for the duration of the pandemic – with their five children, Ty, 21, Olive, 12, Wilfred, 10, Doris, seven, and Birdie, three – but filming a lockdown TV comedy series, Staged, which became the surprise summer comedy hit of 2020.

The whimsical meta sitcom follows David’s fractious friendship with Welsh actor Michael Sheen as they plan various ill-fated ventures from either side of the world on Zoom. Only this isn’t reality TV, but a hammed-up version. Its two actors forever making a drama out of a crisis, as their partners watch, bemused, occasionally stepping in when things get out of hand.

Georgia and Swedish actress Anna Lundberg’s attitude is probably best described by the bumper sticker quote: ‘Behind every successful man is a woman rolling her eyes’, and audiences liked them so much that their roles get progressively bigger with each series.

Amazingly, Staged outlived the pandemic premise it was built on and I’m here today, in a sleek home office at the back of the couple’s west London home, to talk about the third and final series, which is currently airing on BBC One. Having spent the past 24 hours binge-watching six episodes of the show, I’m slightly thrown by how dialled-down the real David and Georgia are compared with their on-screen personas. He’s far less wild-haired and neurotic in real life – perhaps in part because after a trip to the dental hygienist this morning, he’s not yet been allowed his coffee – and she’s just as beautiful, with the same poise she maintains throughout Staged, but more amused than exasperated, today, by her man.

‘This wasn’t our first project together,’ David reminds me when I ask whether working on the show together over three years didn’t tip this perfect partnership over the edge. ‘After all, Georgia and I did meet on set.’

It’s true that it was while he was playing the Tenth Doctor in 2008 that he met his future wife, who was cast as his genetically engineered daughter in the BBC show. Does Georgia still get endless joy from that? ‘Oh, I’ve had 15 years of joy from that,’ she flings back. ‘Of course, I was already 900 years old at the time,’ David deadpans.

After the Doctor Who years, the pair went on to co-star in the 2017 film, You, Me and Him, which Georgia also produced. Still, when it came to filming Staged, he got ‘incredibly nervous’, he admits. ‘I think we were quite anxious about what that would… do, weren’t we?’

His wife murmurs her agreement, although like her Staged character she seems serene and in control and it’s easy to imagine her talking David down from various ledges in daily life. 

For all their harmony, they seem quite different. Certainly, they come from different backgrounds. As the daughter of actors Peter Davison and Sandra Dickinson, Georgia was born into the profession, making her debut at 15 in ITV’s Peak Practice, before going on to appear in shows such as Where the Heart Is, Like Father Like Son and The Last Detective.

Bathgate-born David, meanwhile, is the son of a Presbyterian church minister, who attended the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama and established himself with the Royal Shakespeare Company and National Theatre early on. After winning the game-changing role of Doctor Who at 34, he has continued to demonstrate his versatility as an actor, flitting from hard-hitting TV dramas like Des in 2020 (playing serial killer Dennis Nilsen) and Litvinenko in 2022 (as the former Russian spy) to playing a demon in Amazon’s ongoing fantasy series Good Omens. Then there’s his stage work: the recent West End play Good, in which he played a professor drawn into Nazism, and a forthcoming stint as Macbeth at London’s Donmar Warehouse in December.

Despite his success, the actor has suffered from acute anxiety ever since he was a boy, fretting about everything from ‘not being good enough’ and ‘being found out’ (as he told one interviewer in 2019) to the loss of anonymity he knew he’d experience back in 2005, when he was cast as a TV hero he’d idolised from the age of three. ‘Because with a show like Doctor Who,’ he tells me, ‘it’s on a different scale.’ 

As anyone who suffers from anxiety knows, the primary, all-consuming worry is that everything ‘probably will go wrong’ at any given moment. In 2018 something did go very wrong when Georgia was diagnosed with cervical cancer – something she shared in her blog, despite usually being a private person. ‘I thought it was easier than having to phone everyone and tell them,’ she explains today.

‘It was a very weird experience,’ muses David. ‘Because we found out the bad news after it had been dealt with, so we had the relief at the same time as the horror.’ 

Following an abnormal smear test result, Georgia had a biopsy and a cervical excision to remove the tissue causing concern. It was only after that procedure that test results showed the cells had been cancerous. David pauses, looking at his wife. ‘At least we were spared the prospect of living with, “You’ve got this, and can it be caught?” But I still have these flashbacks of “What if you hadn’t…?”’ He shakes his head. ‘I don’t think I acknowledged at the time how serious it could have been.’

The couple were too busy ‘just dealing with each stage’, David goes on. ‘The slightly funky test and then going in and having the biopsy.’ 

‘But I did make you answer the phone, when we were waiting to hear [the results],’ Georgia cuts in. ‘I obviously knew there was going to be something, so David got the news first: that it was bad but that they’d got rid of it. And then he made me get on the phone so that I could hear it from the doctor myself, because he knew that was something I needed to do.’

Afterwards, ‘both of us were just numb,’ David murmurs. ‘It was such a Sliding Doors moment. Even a few months later it could have been too late.’ 

‘Which is why now,’ Georgia concludes wryly, ‘I’ll tell everyone with a cervix: go and get yourself checked.’

With the couple’s eldest son Ty now a successful actor – having starred in the TV series War of the Worlds and HBO’s House of the Dragon – and Olive, then 10, making her big-screen debut in Kenneth Branagh’s Oscar-winning film Belfast, two years ago, I’m curious to know how they both feel about their brood following in their footsteps? ‘I just want them to be happy and to be able to survive in the world,’ Georgia says. ‘So if acting is what they want to do…’

It helps that the industry feels fairer now in almost every way, they believe, and we segue into a discussion about inclusivity and ‘real representation’ in acting – meaning, for example, that only LGBTQ actors should play LGBTQ roles. Until we’re all caught up, David maintains, ‘you have to protect those spaces for actors who come from those communities’.

It also helps that the industry is a safer place for women now than it was 10 years ago, says Georgia. ‘Because it 

definitely is,’ she adds. ‘Things happened to me when I was younger that I now realise were not great, but at the time I thought it was all part of it – that I had to laugh them off. I’m talking about situations that made me feel uncomfortable,’ she explains. ‘Now I would be able to say so, but at the time the dialogue just wasn’t there. And I don’t think any of our kids would have to feel like that now. Even if they did, they would have the words and the people behind them to say: “that’s not OK”.’

David is currently filming the Disney+ series Rivals, based on Jilly Cooper’s famous bonkbuster, he tells me. ‘And there’s an “intimacy co-ordinator” on that because there’s quite a lot of shagging, so everyone’s being very appropriate and careful.’ 

But doesn’t it feel strange having your sex scenes ‘co-ordinated’? ‘Oh, it’s ludicrous.’ He grins. ‘Because it means you’re making the most intimate, private moments very compartmentalised and that there’s someone there asking the embarrassing questions nobody did historically – but that’s because you’re not doing these things with your actual partner. So that’s another thing that has got better over the years.’ He tilts his head to one side, narrows his eyes: ‘That said, there are still lots of reasons not to become an actor.’

This seems as good a place to end as any, and as the Tennants take me back through the garden to a side gate, Georgia tells her husband she’s ‘going for a manicure – and you have to come with me’. When I leave they’re still bickering gently, with David asking: ‘Why do I have to come?’ I don’t catch his wife’s reply, but I suspect it’s just because she really likes him.