#yes the title is a dozen words long

[greatwyrmgold]

If someone told me that the writer of The Magical Revolution of the Reincarnated Princess and the Genius Young Lady episode 10 had made a bet revolving around how hard he could imply that Euphyllia had a crush on Anisphia that everyone knows about without actually saying it...I would not call them a liar.

But if that happened, he definitely lost the bet.

[worldsover]

Better Things ft. Karina, Ningning

length ✦ 7k

genres ✧ toxic relationship; cuckquean; cockwarming; degradation; needy subby gf!Ningning, hook-up!Karina

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Ningning is a doormat.

Ningning is your girlfriend.

Ningning is some girl who lives with you and if she were your girlfriend, you probably would have had sex with her before a dozen other women. If she were your girlfriend, you probably wouldn't have had sex with those women. If she weren't a doormat, she would have left when she caught you in bed with another girl the first time. Would have left when you made her watch the seventh time. Would have left after she ate your creampie out of some random girl you just met at a club. That's why you can't even bring yourself to feel guilty about taking advantage of her.

Well, that, and new pussy's better than guilt.

But to say better implies some level of good. It's fine. You're exhausted. Exhausted from work. Exhausted from dealing with people. You're so exhausted, yet Ningning greets you in the doorway with open arms and a warm hug like she has all the energy in the world. Like you've ever given her an ounce of that energy back. She's wearing a red tank top that shows off her cleavage and short shorts that cling to her toned legs. That could've worked before, could've made you carry her straight to the bedroom.

The doormat must have waited where the doormat belonged, all day, as it tightens its embrace.

Ningning releases you and gives you a chaste kiss on the cheek. The sweetest smile on her face. Eyes like your next words are precious gold. "Welcome home, babe."

Could've made you feel warm inside. You have no gold left to give. "Work was shit."

"I'm sorry," Ningning responds. "You seem stressed." She leans in for another kiss, trying to comfort and soothe you with her affection. Give Ningning an inch or six or seven, and she'll take 26 miles. You don't have the energy for a marathon.

You pull away. "I'm tired," you say dismissively, already making your way to the couch without acknowledging her further.

Ningning pouts. "Right. Of course. Go rest on the couch. I'll get you a drink."

She returns with a glass of water, but you wish it were something stronger as she settles in beside you on the couch. "You're really are tense, babe," she says with concern, running her hands over your shoulders and neck. "I... I could help. Daddy."

Your pet name sounds forced, calculated out of her mouth. It has been too long since you've truly desired or pleasured Ningning, and she makes sure you're aware of it every time she tries to initiate intimacy with you. And even when she does manage to catch your attention, it's only because other women have used her as an unwilling participant in their own sexual encounters with you.

So when she begs and pleads with you now, it's easy to brush off her advances and ignore her kisses. But as she continues to whisper promises and titles like "Take your stress out on me" and "Daddy's good girl," a dark idea begins to form in your mind.

Suddenly, Ningning's hand slips down to stroke you through your trousers and her lips attach themselves to your neck like a leech. She must sense the shift in your demeanor because she becomes more desperate and persistent in her seduction.

You remain silent, mulling over her offer. Suddenly, Ningning's grip tightens on your bulge and she exclaims "Daddy! See? You're getting hard already. That means I can use me now, right? Please, I'll be so good for you."

The rush getting to your head makes you reply in earnest for the first time. "You're right."

Ningning gasps softly, her lips forming a grin. "I-I am?"

"Yep. I need a good fuck."

Her hand slips from your pants as she springs up, jubilant and bouncing with excitement. "Yes! You deserve it," she exclaims, her eyes shining with glee. "How do you want me? Which hole do you want to jerk off with? To dump your cum into?"

You pull out your phone.

Instantly, her joy turns to disappointment as she realizes what this means. "Daddy...why? But...but why?"

You open Tinder and show her all the matches you have.

"No." She pouts, her face genuinely forlorn. "No, please, no, Daddy, I'll do anything. Not another random whore. I've been so good, I did such a good job getting you hard. Why do these sluts get your cock?"

"You barely did shit. You're not good, you're just desperate."

"Please!" She's back to clinging to your arm, back to giving you desperate pecks on your cheek and wherever she can peck, but you don't let her kiss your lips, turning your face away. "Kiss me, use me, anything! What do I have to do? Stroke your cock faster? Gag on your big Daddy dick? Be your personal porn star all day? Please, tell me, I, I need you so bad."

Your gaze vacillates between her and your phone.

"Your cum, I need it. I need you to stretch me out. Daddy, I need you to grope me, throw me around, force your dick down my throat, anything, please, I need you! Please, use your bitch."

You have made your decision. "Maybe later. After I hook up with a hotter girl. You can have seconds."

She has to hold back a tear, shuddering, trembling in frustration. "Later?"

You nod and look down at her, sternly.

"Okay. Yes. Of course, yes, Daddy, you need to… feel good after, after a stressful day. Seeing you happy is more important, and I'm not doing a good enough job."

"You're not."

She swallows hard. "Yeah. So if one of those sluts can make you feel better than me... I suppose I can wait my turn." The kisses that punctuate each of her words, that travel to wherever you allow them, slow down. She has left marks and saliva all over you.

"Are you done?" You hold up your phone. "If you want me to use you sooner, then I'll have to find someone sooner, right?"

"Yes, I understand." She sits up, her hands clasped together demurely. "Wait. But, you're still hard."

"And?"

"May I suck you, Daddy?" she asks.

You shake your head. "I've got better things to do with my time than you."

Ningning begs with her eyes, pouting and pleading. "I know, I know. I'm just a useless needy slut who can't satisfy you... but at least I can warm your cock with my mouth. Right? I'll keep quiet while servicing your cock and you can keep swiping on Tinder."

You lean back in thought.

"You know I can be a good cock warmer for you. If that's all I'm good for… please?"

You examine her face—adorable and needy—her lips twitching as if she's about to burst into tears. She is right. Those very lips are heavenly wrapped around your shaft, sipping and slurping on your cockhead. "Fine," you say.

"Yay!" she celebrates. "Thank you, oh my god, thank you, Daddy." She gives you one last kiss on the lips before going to her place. On her knees, between your legs, in front of the couch. It'd only be more appropriate with your feet on her.

Your focus remains on your phone as you begin searching for a hot girl to hook up with.

"It's been so long since I tasted your—"

"I thought this was for my pleasure," you say. Hearing her speak instead of feeling her mouth on your cock annoys you.

"Sorry. You're right. This is for you. Doesn't matter what I want." She unbuckles your belt and pulls down your trousers.

You nod as you return your attention to the phone screen. You've been picky with the girls you swipe for, but this time, you're looking for anyone with a hot face and nice tits. While your girlfriend is certainly cute, she doesn't exactly fulfill those criteria, especially not now. Especially not tits.

Ningning presses her face against your underwear and takes a long whiff, a smile growing. She runs her tongue on your boxers, marking them with some saliva; its dampness seeps through the fabric.

Grabbing her hair, you say, "Dumb bitch, begging for scraps, did I ask you to do that?" You yank, causing her to wince in pain.

"Ow, n-no. I'm sorry, Daddy." After looking into her eyes for a few seconds, you let go of her hair, then Ningning immediately frees your cock. She's mesmerized as if she's never seen it before, and you find the target of her attention: the leaking pre-cum. She can't help herself from giving your tip a kiss. "Okay, you can keep swiping," she says. "I'll make you feel so good while you find a tight hole to use."

You don't respond, instead doing just as stated. Left, left, left, left, left. It's looking like one of those evenings. The only plus side is the simple sensation of pleasure as Ningning suckles slowly like a lollipop.

"Do my lips feel good? Is it nice having your pet warm your cock while you find prettier whores?" Truthfully, if there's one thing Ningning is expert at, it's sending shivers through your body with her mouth. She explores every inch of your cock with her tongue, skillfully tracing along the ridges and then sliding back down to your shaft.

Finally, you find a few pretty girls here and there. It's still many more left swipes than right, but most of the women you swipe match immediately. However, you lose interest in most quickly.

"Ah, I, I luhhv, this, cah…" In between Ningning talking with a mouthful, you relish in the sounds of quiet sucking. It distracts you from your ankle-shallow conversations, the dumb pickup lines, the straightforward advances.

You're tempted to grab her hair again and shove her lips down the base until she chokes and gags, but then Tinder would've been a waste of time anyway.

With her lips so diligently latched to your shaft, Ningning starts to drool. You give her one glance, and she immediately starts to lick your shaft clean. "I love cleaning your cock. That's all I'm good for, I know. I love being on my knees for you, having your perfect dick in my mouth, looking up at you and seeing your lust… e-even if it's for other girls." A hint of sadness in her voice. But even as she knows she will never be enough for you, she finds pleasure in submitting to your desires and being on her knees for you. And despite her words, her actions show that she loves it just as much as you do—if not more.

The lazy blowjob continues for some time, your erection carefully nurtured by Ningning's lips. You finally find the match you're looking for, the hottest girl you've ever seen in your life. Karina, 23. Every picture hardens your dick more than anything this cockwarmer toy of a woman can do. Whether it's a casual crop top or an elegant low-cut black dress, her ample cleavage leaves little to the imagination. Karina was the one for tonight. Your conversation with her quickly becomes sexual, which becomes an invite to your place.

Ningning notices your smile. "Did you get a match?" she asks gleefully. "Did you find a new pretty whore to break?" Her lips are more active on your shaft now, gliding up and down with renewed enthusiasm.

"Yep."

"Ahh." She releases your shaft, sticking out her tongue as saliva bridges from her bottom lip to your tip. With puppy dog eyes, she looks up at you and timidly asks, "I-is she prettier than me?"

"Duh." You show her Karina's pictures. "She has bigger tits too."

Ningning looks down. "That's great, Daddy," she says quietly. She perks herself up by kissing your dick. "I'm glad you found a better whore to fuck. When will she be here?"

"In a few hours."

"Okay, Daddy. I'll take care of this cock. I'll keep it nice and warm and wet. You can just relax until she arrives. " She returns to her duty, her lips a pillowy cushion, and she sucks with no complaint.

You idly browse your phone while Ningning keeps her lips sealed around your shaft like it's the most precious thing in the world. When you get up for snacks, she follows you around the house, never letting go of your cock for fear of losing it forever. Returning to the couch, you lie down and watch some shows while Ningning remains on her knees, expertly sucking away.

It's not until you receive the text that Karina is on her way that you finally pull a half-asleep Ningning off of your dick. You quickly gather yourself and prepare for Karina's arrival.

The doorbell rings. You answer the door. Your jaw practically drops to the floor when you open the door. Karina stands before you, clad in a tight pink tube top that shows off the toned shape of her midriff and accentuates the weightiness of her ample breasts. So much skin on display that you hardly know where to look first. A tantalizing hint of vanilla fills the air, adding to the already-charged atmosphere.

"Hello, handsome," she purrs, her voice naturally sultry. She leans in for a kiss before even stepping inside.

The kiss lingers longer than expected, your tongues dancing with a hint of alcohol, perhaps wine. Her hands find their way to your shoulders while yours rest on her waist, reveling in the softness of her smooth skin. Eventually, you release each other from the passionate embrace. "Wow. Hello, Karina. You look absolutely stunning."

"Aw, thank you."

You invite her inside. "Make yourself comfortable."

"I'm glad we matched so quick. Your pics were such a tease." Karina pokes you in the chest.

"And I'm glad you accepted my invite," you reply with a grin.

She giggles. "How could I say no? Straight to the point. And trust me, I could definitely blow off some steam today." Karina scans the living room, then freezes when she notices Ningning sitting there.

You bury your face in your hands; you completely forgot about her.

"Who's that?" Karina asks with an arched eyebrow. "You didn't mention anyone else joining us."

Ningning speaks up: "I'm Dad—"

"She's nobody," you say.

Karina laughs, her gaze lingering on Ningning's figure. "Nobody? Really?" She turns back to you with an impish grin. "Well, she's quite gorgeous. Maybe she could join us and make things even more fun?"

Ningning practically bounces in her seat. "That would be amazing! Can I please join, Daddy?"

Karina runs her hand down your chest, causing you to catch your breath. "So she calls you 'Daddy', huh? That's interesting." Her eyes flicker over Ningning before returning to you with an impish glint. "Well then… what do you say… 'Daddy'?"

Hearing the pet name spoken by Karina in such a seductive tone sends a shiver down your spine, and you release a quick exhale. "Just you and me. All night long."

"Ooh, when you put it like that…" Karina trails off with a smirk. "You better not disappoint." She wraps her arm around your neck and goes in for a deep kiss, your lips locked together as your tongues swirl in each other's mouths. At this moment, it's easy for you to forget about your own girlfriend waiting in the living room, stumbling inside while still entwined with Karina.

"Daddy, p-please, I'll behave," Ningning stutters out from behind you. "I can make you feel good too. I promise, I'll be a good girl."

Karina's lips part from yours with a soft moan, and the sound thrums through your body like a sweet melody. More than anything else, you want to hear the notes of those moans louder and harder and over and over again. Karina catches sight of Ningning watching them from the corner of her eye and chuckles playfully. "Oh, honey, look at that face. She looks like she's about to cry."

"Ignore her."

Karina smirks—a deadly thing. "Ignore her, huh? Sure." She gives you one last lingering kiss before breaking away with a satisfied sigh. "Now show me where your bathroom is so I can freshen up."

You lead the way, but before you can show Karina into the bathroom, you get distracted by the creamy skin of her neck and begin kissing it fervently. Your kisses trail back up to her lips, and once again your tongues dance together. You've kissed Karina more in the past few minutes than you have your girlfriend in a long time.

Karina shudders when you pull away. "Ffuck, this is gonna be an incredible night, huh?" She runs a hand through your hair before giving you a sly smile. "You're such a good kisser. No wonder you have her wrapped around your finger… say, what's her name?"

"Doesn't matter. Just think of her like my house pet."

Karina's teeth sink into her bottom lip. "Damn. Okay," she says, nodding, "get comfy in your bedroom, babe. I'll be ready in just a moment."

You nod and watch as Karina disappears into the bathroom. When you head back to the living room, you find Ningning quietly sobbing to herself.

Holding her chin with a firm and unyielding grip, you force Ningning to look at you, and her eyes widen in fear. "What the fuck?"

"Wh-what?" Ningning sniffles.

Giving her cheek a few light slaps, you scowl at her. "Don't 'what' me, or give me those puppy dog eyes. Why the fuck are you still here?"

"I-I, I'm sorry," Ningning stammers through her sobs. "I don't know... I thought maybe I could join in or take care of you afterwards or..."

Echoes of a crack, you land a harder slap on her cheek, leaving a red mark behind. "I am not fucking you!" you snap. "Do you really think I would waste my time with someone like you when I have a goddess like Karina in my home?" You let out a heavy sigh. "What am I going to do with you?"

Ningning avoids making eye contact as she apologizes once again.

"Fine," you say, standing up. "Follow me to my room."

"Really?"

"Just do as I say."

You sit down on the edge of your bed and point to the floor in front of you, a spot that is all too familiar for Ningning. She obeys without question, kneeling by your crotch as you tug down your pants and underwear to reveal your soft cock. You then yank Ningning's head down towards your lap.

"What do I—" she starts but is cut off by your hiss.

"Are you stupid? What have you been doing for the past few hours?"

Ningning whimpers quietly. "Yes, Daddy." She begins stroking you with her small hand.

"Use your mouth," you command.

"Right, right." She quickly swallows your member, her lips dragging along its flaccid length. As you harden in her mouth, she gags when it hits the back of her throat, but diligently she cleans up all the saliva.

You close your eyes, picturing Karina instead, and after a few minutes, pictures in your mind materialize as the door opens.

"Hey, what do you think—" Karina's voice trails off as she sees Ningning between your legs, servicing your now fully erect cock. "I thought you said she wasn't joining us," she says with a giggle.

"Well, I'm just using her to get you ready for me," you reply. Despite the ministrations of Ningning's lips and tongue, your attention is solely focused on the woman standing in front of you.

Karina steps closer, her eyes fixated on Ningning. "That's such a turn on, seeing her between your legs like that," Karina says, smirking.

Ningning moans happily as she continues to orally service your dick.

"Look at her," Karina says, "such a cute thing."

"No, look at you," you reply. "That top looks perfect on you. Your body's perfect."

"Thank you, babe. I wore this just for tonight." Karina brings her hands to her chest, and you must be drooling when she squeezes. "You like?"

You nod. "You're the hottest girl I've ever seen, Karina."

Ningning lets out a sad whimper around your cock.

Karina sits down on the edge of the bed next to you, watching intently as Ningning works to get your cock even harder with her mouth. "Wow, your cock is perfect. She's almost got you ready for me." She grabs your jaw and pulls you in for a kiss.

You're in a new endless world of bliss, Karina's lips on yours, Ningning's lips on your cock. The sound of her blowjob is noisy, wet, sloppy, but you notice only the moans coming out of Karina's mouth into yours. And even better than that is when Karina presses her full breasts against your arm, giving you visions of what's to come—hours of playing with those breasts greedily between your fingers.

Again, when Karina releases the kiss, she lets out a light moan, and it's the prettiest thing you've heard. "I can't wait to ride that big fucking cock."

"You don't have to wait." With a firm grip on Ningning's hair, you pull her off your cock and toss her onto the floor with a gentle thud. "Get a condom for me," you command.

Ningning lays on the ground, spit-covered lips quivering. She can't make eye contact with you or Karina. "Yes, Daddy."

Karina's legs rub together. "She's such an obedient girl." She brings her legs over and straddles you before she starts making out with you once again.

Though your hands are all over her body, they naturally find their way toward her breasts.

"Yeah, fuck, touch me," Karina says breathily, "feel me up."

"Your tits are incredible, holy shit."

"Just having your pet isn't enough for you?" Karina asks playfully.

You shake your head. "But you're more than enough."

Karina's lips press firmly against yours, her teeth grazing your lower lip in excitement. As you deepen the kiss, you can taste the faint hint of her lip gloss mingled with the subtle tang of your own blood. Her hands begin to explore, trailing down your body until they reach your shaft. Like Ningning before her, she struggles to fully wrap her fingers around your girth. "Fuck, you're so thick," she whispers in awe.

You let out a deep groan as Karina starts to twist and slide her hand up and down your wettened cock. Just then, Ningning's soft voice interrupts your passion-filled moment. "Here's the condom, Daddy," she says softly.

"Put it on with that dirty little mouth of yours."

Karina giggles then brings her lips back on yours, brings her tongue back into your mouth.

"You, you really want me to…"

You give her a stern look.

"Of, of course, Daddy. Whatever you want," she nervously replies before awkwardly scooting towards where you're sitting. You can see that she's struggling to find the space between you and Karina straddling your lap. Eventually, you hear the sound of the condom packet opening and feel Ningning putting it on with her mouth.

Karina's moans get louder, and she runs her hands through your hair.

"It's on, Daddy," Ningning announces timidly as she sits next to you, her hands resting meekly on her thighs.

You and Karina seem to want to kiss forever, Karina especially reveling in the spectator; however, she breaks it first. "Get on your back," she says, her eyes piercing into yours. "I'm riding you and this fucking beautiful dick into the bed."

As you both shuffle around and get comfortable, you push Ningning aside to the corner of the bed. You sink into the pillows while Karina kneels above you, gazing at you with hungry desire.

Ningning's tiny voice is barely audible as she begs, "Can I watch? Please, Daddy?" Her eyes gleam with admiration and delight at the sight of you and Karina together. "I love seeing you feel good. I promise I'll be quiet, I won't interrupt."

There might have been words in your right ear.

Karina laughs as she positions her slender figure over your cock. She takes hold of it and guides it towards her entrance with expert precision. "Are you just ignoring her? That's pretty fucking…" She sinks down into your length and moans loudly, musically. "Hot, oh, fuck, you feel so good." Her pussy clings closely, warm and snug around you.

Feeling dizzy with pleasure, you grab onto her shapely hips as she moves on top of you. She moans in response and adjusts to fit your entire length inside of her, her hand feeling your hardness through her slim waist.

"Wait, fuck, please. Don't move yet." Karina gasps. She begins to gyrate her hips back and forth, causing your head to spin even more. With that body and those tits and that tight hole and that impossibly perfect face contorting with bliss, any man could cum before the first thrust. But somehow, you manage to resist as she begins lifting herself, then fucking into you slowly. "That's, that's it. Nngh."

All the while, your eyes are dead set on her tits, waiting to watch them in action.

As Karina drops herself down onto you again, coating your dick with her juices, she starts to bounce at a steady rhythm. Even though they are confined by fabric, her ample breasts jiggle enticingly with each motion. "Fuck, that's too good," Karina says, moaning, closing her eyes. Then, she opens them as she looks over to where Ningning is squirming. "Aww, look how she's eyeing your cock. When was the last time you fucked her?"

"Hm. Maybe a month ago."

"God, you're so mean to her. I can't imagine depriving someone of this amazing dick." She moans as your length hits a particularly sensitive spot inside her, and then she leans down to grab your face. "I love it." There, she kisses you while her ride starts to intensify. You love the weight of her tits, and the loud slapping sound of her ass bearing down over and over.

"I'll come back later, Daddy." Ningning's voice is filled with dejection before fading away.

As Karina rides you cowgirl style, she sits up straight once again, her toes curling, her breasts bouncing, and her hair flying around her. You reach for her tube top, and she helps pull it up. You didn't think this ride could get better—then, the drop, as her boobs are set free. There's a magical ripple, so plenty for your eyes to feast on. And while the way her tits drop is hypnotizing, the way they bounce without the restraint of fabric is even more so. Karina brings her arms up and you assist her in removing the top completely before flinging it aside, leaving both of you bare and vulnerable to each other's touch.

In this new position, sitting up against the headboard, you lean in to kiss Karina deeply before trailing down to explore every inch of her body. Your lips linger at her long neck, her defined collarbone, and her lithe arms, but always find their way back to her luscious breasts where you suck on each pink nipple with fervor.

"Yeah, yeah, fuck, just like that, I'm so, so sensitive there." Karina moans breathlessly as she grinds against your cock. Her body vibrates with pleasure, and you can feel the clench of her cunt around your cock, tightening and relaxing with every deep thrust.

As you notice her soft mewling turn into breathy gasps, you intensify your actions: while your lips are latched to one of her firm nipples, and one hand is massaging her other breast thoroughly, your free hand goes down to her clit, rubbing in neat circles, causing her to arch her back and cry out in pleasure.

"Fuck, yes! Gonna, gonna cum!" Her words are punctuated by deep groans of pleasure, and you revel in her vocal responses, the sound of her deeper voice more harmonious to your ears than your girlfriend's high-pitched cries.

Her legs tremble as she slows down, giving you the opportunity to take control. You thrust upwards with determination, while simultaneously stimulating every sensitive spot on her body. Karina throws her head back, and she cums on your cock gracefully; you give her no quarter, pounding her through every pulse of her orgasm. Her cunt's tight grip makes you lightheaded, but you continue as a machine, worshipping her tits with your mouth and fingers, playing with her clit, until she's driven to new heights of pleasure.

After many long and languid inhales and exhales, Karina sighs contentedly, her body sated from the intense lovemaking. "I haven't cum that good in so long. Fuck." She pulls you close and kisses you deeply like the gratitude spoken didn't just escape her tongue. "So you haven't fucked her like this in a month? I almost feel bad for her."

"Don't."

"Sure." Karina playfully taps your shoulders, her fingers dancing over your skin. "Well then, I think it's only fair that I reward you for that."

With a soft wet pop, she lifts herself off of your slick member, the condom shining in the dim light of the room. She kneels before you, hunger in her eyes as she looks at your throbbing cock. Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips in anticipation.

"Do you have another condom?" she asks.

"Yeah, it's over by the drawer," you reply, still trying to catch your breath from the intense ride.

She scoffs. "Yet you made her… whatever." Karina's fingers graze your skin as she peels off the condom, the cool sensation a stark contrast to the heat emanating from her body. "Trust me, this much feels better. Plus I want to taste your precum."

She aligns your shaft between her perfect breasts, the soft sensation of them cushioning your cock. "Fuck, Karina. I've never done this before," you say with a gasp.

"Figured as much. Your other plaything's tiny tits could never compare to this, right?" Karina smirks before letting a glob of spit drip from her lips. Your dominant tendencies seem to have rubbed off on her and it turns you on even more.

But what really turns you on is the warmth and plushness of her breasts against your sensitive skin. She takes charge, using her skilled hands to stroke your cock as she holds her breasts together, creating a delicious pressure. Her movements are both gentle and firm as she guides you between her cleavage with precision. Each time your tip pokes out from between her breasts, she gives it a lick or a kiss that sends shivers through your body and elicits groans from deep within your lungs. And every time she does so, she manages to get just enough of the taste that she craves, as she keeps you on a plateau of pleasure and causes you to leak beads of semen.

You can't help but move your hips in rhythm with her while she continues to stroke you with her breasts. She notices and soon lets you take control, allowing you to thrust at your own pace. When you feel yourself getting closer to climax, you slow down and start kneading her breasts—first softly, then harder as your desire and arousal build. You treat her absurd body with the roughness it deserves, pulling her up from her knees by her malleable tits. "Oh, shit," Karina says as you throw her onto the bed, "I love how rough you are."

Eventually, the two of you end up fucking in every corner of the bedroom, finding places where you haven't fucked Ningning or even any other woman. You have Karina arched over the dresser as you enter her from behind, her moans mingling with the sound of rattling wood. You carry Karina, both hands sinking into the flesh of her buttcheeks, giving you both a workout. You two move to the floor, where a torrid round of reverse cowgirl shows off how her ass was as perfect an asset as her tits.

But the most intense and primal position is when you have her pinned against the door, her breasts and face pressed against it, her arm pulled back as you fuck her standing—well, she's only standing because your cock is propping her up, her legs jelly. In this frenzy, Karina is both a willing participant and a willing object, surrendering herself to the pleasure that awaits in each new position and location.

"Yes, yes! Just like that!" Karina cries out as sweat drips down her back; you lean over to taste the saltiness as you nibble on her neck.

And right there, in that position against the door, you make Karina cum again. This time, she squirts violently and her release sprays onto your legs, onto the floor, clear liquid making a mess between her thighs. You hear a whine from the other side of the door. You can't ever be accused of neglecting your girlfriend of her needs.

As if drawn by an uncontrollable magnetism, the two of you find your way back to where you started: you lying on the bed, and Karina riding the life out of you. Her breasts bounce with each thrust and your hands can't resist kneading them roughly. Red marks appear on her otherwise flawless skin, adding to the passionate chaos of the room. This roughness only intensifies Karina's tightness around your cock as she begs for more.

"You love it when I'm rough?" You growl into her ear. "Love feeling this big dick pounding into you?"

"God, yes! Fuck me back!" Karina exclaims.

Suddenly, Ningning opens the door. "Daddy, I just—"

But she's interrupted as Karina shouts and another wave of orgasm wracks through her body, causing her to pull away from you, too sensitive to continue. "Oh... my god," she says, out of breath. "I can't believe you made me cum again." Karina's lips dive into your neck, her wetness dripping down your thighs onto the sheets that you and Ningning share.

"Ningning's whisper breaks through the heavy atmosphere, her voice tinged with concern. "I just wanted to check up on you," she says softly. "You've been at it for a while. It's almost midnight."

Karina disentangles herself from the crook of your neck and moves to lay her head on your chest. Looking at Ningning with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, she lets out a playful laugh. "Yeah, he's been fucking me senseless for a while now. Damn, he's good."

A smirk spreads across your face.

"I...uh..." Ningning struggles to find the right words, unsure whether to express pride or sadness.

"You just wanted to watch, didn't you?" Karina says, running her hand down your bare chest. "You naughty little thing."

You chime in, "Oh, I know her well. She was listening the whole time, pressed against the door with her ear. I could hear her." You'd ask if she made herself cum. You don't care.

A blush creeps onto Ningning's cheeks as she nods shyly.

"Wow, she is soo needy." Karina looks down and notices that your erection is still going strong. "Fuckin' hell, you stud. Haven't cum yet?"

"Nope."

Karina peels herself off of you and lies down next to you on the bed. "Here, I'll lay down so you can pound my pussy until you cum. Does that sound good to you?"

You waste no time positioning your cock between her legs, then you grab her ankles and place them over your shoulders.

"Oh shit, yes..." She draws in a sharp breath as you thrust into her all at once, causing her eyes to roll back in ecstasy. "God, fuck, I'm still so turned on..." Her words become moans as you piston into her, your primal instincts taking over.

You watch as Karina's irresistible breasts jiggle with each and every thrust, her soaked pussy gripping onto you tightly.

"You don't care if she watches do you?" Karina giggles like she's drunk off your cock. "Looks like, ngh, you don't care what she does at all. Hnn…" She looks at Ningning, who is standing by the door, unable to look away. Karina pats the bed to her. "Come here, join us on the bed. You can get a closer look at Daddy's cock going in and out of me. Don't you want to see how I please your Daddy? Watch him fuck my brains out. Watch why he's choosing me over you."

"Daddy, wait—"

Karina moans. "Hurry up or get out, I don't think your Daddy gives a fuck."

Ningning only hesitates one more second before dragging her feet over to the bed.

"Good girl," Karina praises as Ningning lies down next to her obediently.

"Can you touch me, Daddy? Please? Or will you just hold my hand while you—"

You swat her hand away when she reaches out towards you, causing Karina to erupt in laughter. "Looks like she'll just have to watch."

You kiss Karina like you love her, like she's your girlfriend, or your wife, or your long-lost love you haven't seen in years. It must be breaking Ningning's heart, but you can't see or care, with Karina's face the only face in your mind. The only reminders of Ningning's presence are the occasional whimpers and moans that escape from her lips.

"Come on, babe," Karina urges with a fierce kiss, "don't hold back. I want to make you cum in front of her." She places her hand on your chest, slowing your movements. "Flip me over and rail me, babe. Give me everything she wants."

You swiftly pull out and bring Karina to her hands and knees.

"Ooh, that's it." She moans loudly as you push her head down and thrust into her from behind. Her back arches, showcasing the perfect curve of her ass.

As your movements become more forceful, Karina's moans echo through the room and she clings to the sheets with desperation. You finally make eye contact with Ningning, her hands buried in her shorts and her breath ragged as she watches you and Karina together.

"God, you're so rough. Yes!" Karina shouts.

Meanwhile, Ningning's gasps and moans grow louder as she tries to pleasure herself. Despite her best efforts, it seems that nothing can satisfy her.

"Do it," Karina says, looking back, "cum for me!"

All of the sensations come crashing together—the movement of Karina's body, the tightness of her pussy around you, and the sight of your girlfriend watching as you fuck another woman. With one final rough slam, you burst inside Karina, gripping her ass cheeks and calling out her name. Every last drop is drained from your balls as you fill the condom to the seams.

After the intense pulsations subside, you loosen your grip on Karina's ass and she collapses onto the bed, breathing heavily and moaning in satisfaction. "Holy fuck. That was amazing," she says between giggles. She notices that Ningning has not stopped pleasuring herself this entire time, her fingers slick with wetness as they slide in and out of her swollen folds. "Looks like I'm not the only one who thought so. You enjoy seeing your man blow his load in another woman so much, don't you? Are you pretending to be me right now?"

You are surprised by Karina's bold words, but not surprised at Ningning's increased moans and trembling body as she reaches her desperate climax because of those words, likely making a mess of her underwear.

"That's so hot," Karina purrs with a wiggle of her hips. Your half-hard cock remains inside of her as she speaks. "Give me a few more thrusts before you pull out."

You oblige, gazing up at the ceiling while Karina wrings every last bit of pleasure from you into the condom. She disentangles herself from you and leans in for a kiss.

"Mmh, that was fun. We should do that again sometime. Oh, and can I use your shower?" Karina asks.

"Of course," you reply. "Actually, do you mind if I join you in a sec?"

She nods, smiling. "Sure, babe. That sounds nice." Karina heads to the shower with a flick of her hair over her shoulder, drawing the attention of both you and Ningning to her toned buttocks.

Ningning lies on the bed, spent on her own self-pleasure. "Did, mmnh, did you have fun, Daddy? Was she good for you?"

Stretching, you remove the condom from your now-flaccid member. "The best."

"Nnh." Her breathing quickens. "That looks good."

You offer her the condom, almost filled to the brim with your load.

"F-for me? Really, Daddy? I can have your yummy cum?"

"Sure."

She's excited for the first time in a while. "Yes! Thank you! Oh, thank you, thank you, Daddy!" Ningning takes the cum-filled condom and brings it to her lips, drinking the cum out like a woman parched in the desert. Her lips make wet, sucking noises as she swallows up the thick, sticky globs of semen. "Oh god, Daddy, you taste so good."

Each gulp of cum elicits a moan from Ningning as she savors it. You can tell that she's still sore from her last orgasm, and despite that, her hand snakes its way back down to fingerfuck herself again. She keeps the condom in her mouth for a while, making sure she doesn't miss out on a drop, turning it inside out to be sure—even when it's empty, she gets herself off again with her lips wrapped around the used protection.

As Ningning prepares to bring herself to another climax using the condom around her fingers as a substitute for your cock, you excuse yourself and head to the shower. What a doormat does with her time does not concern you. You have a shower to hop into and an actual woman to enjoy it with.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AFF, AO3

[imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul]

The Prince - Chapter Three

A/N: Hi hi! I always make moodboards for my longer fics and came across this little secluded garden image and just had to work it into the fic. Hope you like this one! Thank you for all your likes, reblogs, comments, messages, they mean the world to me <3

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader Word Count: 4.6k Synopsis: Tensions grow as the reader tries to pursue other marriage options, with Jace's help. Sparring, sneaking away, and midnight garden confessions ensue.

Tag List: @rinisfruity14, @gaiaea, @rexorangecounty

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

You are an idiot. You replay the events of last night in your mind and grow more ashamed by the minute. You had thrown up in front of the prince, and then minutes later, nearly kissed him.

You write to Jeyne what you can, trying to leave out details that reveal just how mortifying the event was, but needing her advice. You wish you could wait, she's to come to King's Landing in a few months at Rhaenyra's request, but the matter seems too pressing to put off.

You wish you could tell someone here, but the only people you are close with are Jace’s brothers and Rhaena, sister to his fiancée. Rhaena had become a close friend during her time in the Vale, but you do not delude yourself that she will want to discuss your budding feelings for her sister’s betrothed. You are to meet with her and Baela in an hour, and you need all thoughts of the prince gone before you see them.

When you arrive in Rhaena’s chambers, she and Baela are looking at something on her table, completely transfixed by it that they don’t hear you enter. You clear your throat and they both look up with a smile.

“Oh good, you’re here,” Rhaena says, grabbing your arm and dragging you over to the table.

“What’s all this?” you ask.

“A list of potential prospects,” Baela says proudly. There are a dozen names on the list at least.

“I can’t believe you did this,” you say. Rhaena knocks her shoulder with yours.

“I want you to be happy,” she says, rolling her eyes, “Of course I did all this.” You take a quick scan of the names, recognizing a few lesser lords, third-born sons, men who wouldn’t mind marrying a woman without a title.

“Thank you,” you say, looking at them with wide eyes.

“We can go through the list together,” Rhaena says. “And weed out the bad. Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” she asks Baela.

“It’s not that I don’t want to judge a group of men with the two of you,” she says with a smile, “But I already promised Jace I would fly with him today.” Your stomach flips excitedly at his name.

“Fine, leave all the fun to us,” Rhaena says.

“What kind of fun?”

The three of you snap your attentions to the doorway where Jacaerys stands, a bemused expression on his face. You say, “Nothing,” at the same time Baela says, “A list of suitors for Y/N.”

“Oh?” Jace asks, tilting his head, his eyes meeting yours. He walks over to the group, filling in the space between you and Baela.

“Y/N,” he says lowly in greeting.

“Your Highness,” you say, for some reason, suddenly breathless. He looks at the list for a long minute, a frown on his face. He turns it over, like he expects more names.

“Nothing indeed,” he says, pursing his lips. You glare at him, but it only makes the corners of his mouth upturn.

“What do you mean nothing?” Baela asks, snatching the slip back from him. “Rhaena and I worked hard on this list.”

“I can name at least four names on that list that are older than fifty. Lord Farwynd is a drunk, Ser Mollen a cheat. I could keep going.”

“Please don’t,” Rhaena says. “It was just a place to start.”

“Well, if you would like my opinion, you know where to find me,” he says, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I will keep that in mind, Your Highness,” you say.

“Good.” He turns his attention to Baela. “Are you ready?”

“Yes." She exchanges a glance with her sister, rolling her eyes. Rhaena hides her smile from the prince.

“Ladies,” Jacaerys says, nodding to you and Rhaena both, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment.

“Good luck,” Baela says, urging Jace out the door with her hand on his shoulder. You look away when the sight makes envy twine through you. The door closes behind them and Rhaena sighs.

“The list isn’t perfect,” she begins, “But—”

“Don’t worry about it,” you say, “We’ll just have to do our research is all. There’s got to be someone good on here.”

For the next week, that is all you do. You spend every day with Rhaena, sometimes joined by Baela, discussing what they know about each name on the list, what the maids can tell them, and what little they can find out about their families in the history books of the library.

You meet with a few men, taking strolls with them through the gardens, sharing a meal with them, and even attending gatherings of theirs. So far, nothing has clicked. The men are more often kind than not, but the attraction just isn’t there.

At lunch one day, after a long week of researching suitors, and making forced conversation with a few, you find yourself enjoying a rare, quiet meal. The room you’re in has a large window, and is up so high, you can’t hear the chatter of the city.

You take a moment to center yourself, to recognize how lucky you are to be here. The suitors had been boring, but they had all seemed kind. Each of them was far better than Lord Blacktyde.

It was foolish to assume that you would find a love match, and one so quickly, too. It was best that you just picked one, one who laughed at the jokes you told, and looked into your eyes while you spoke, not down at your chest. Fantasizing about a knight in shining armor wasn’t going to get you anywhere.

The door opens across the room, shaking you from your thoughts, and Aegon walks in, Viserys following with two maids.

“Well, hello, Your Highnesses,” you say, standing as they approach.

“Y/N,” Aegon says, “You have to come see us spar. Jace taught us so many new moves since the Vale.”

“Really?”

“Really!” Viserys chimes in.

“He says we’re nearly as good as Joffrey.”

“Well, I definitely need to come see for myself, then,” you say. The boys smile excitedly.

“We are sparring in an hour,” Aegon says.

“I will be there,” you say, giving his hand a squeeze. He laughs and squeezes yours back, before turning and running out the door with his brother, the maids racing after them.

An hour later, you arrive at the sparring grounds. The moment you step outside, you are met with the sound of swords clashing, grunting, yelling, and the smell of sweat. It is unpleasant, but it confirms you are in the right place.

Walking across the viewing platform you stop along the railing. A rare sea breeze reaches your face at this height, and you breathe it in greedily. It is a reminder of home, and one that settles you. When you look down at the sparring grounds, you find Jacaerys’s eyes on you. He is smiling gently and doesn’t look away when you meet his gaze.

He strolls over, looking up at you, his eyes squinting slightly in the sun. He is still smiling when he greets you.

“Hello there,” he says.

“Good afternoon, My Prince,” you say, leaning over more to meet his eyes.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you here before,” he says, “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Aegon invited me,” you say, nodding towards the younger boy, making his way across the field, wooden sword in hand.

“Ah,” Jace says, his smile growing.

“He wants to show me some of the new things he’s learned from his brother,” you say. You cannot help but stare at Jacaerys. Sweat clings to his brow and hair, the latter of which has been slicked back with it, highlighting the angles of his face. He wears dark armor that clings to him favorably. When you snap back into the present, the prince is smirking at your perusal.

“Well, we’ll be sure to put on quite the show,” he says, nodding to you before walking over to Aegon. Viserys and Joffrey make their way onto the grounds, both giving you a kind smile when they spot you.

Jacaerys begins with Aegon, giving the younger boy a few instructions. Aegon is a bit nervous at first, missing his step and tripping over his own toes. He settles after a moment. He lunges for Jace, who blocks the move easily. He parries back, testing Aegon. The boy does as he was taught and meets his brother’s wooden blade. You cheer for him and clap.

They both turn towards you. Aegon is beaming proudly. Jace is smiling, too. Your gaze meets his for a moment too long. A moment, which is only broken when Aegon takes a swing at his brother, knocking the wind out of him.

You stand up, a hand covering your mouth in shock. Joffrey and Viserys make their way towards the other pair, looks of surprise on their faces, too. Jace stands up slowly, a hand to his stomach. When you realize he is alright, you are the first to start laughing.

Jace looks at you in mock offense, a smile pulling across his face. Aegon starts on next, equally amused and proud of himself. Joffrey falls into laughter next, followed quickly by Viserys, who seems to want to match his brothers.

“Something amusing?” Jacaerys asks. You keep laughing, striving to catch your breath and call your answer back to him, but it takes another moment. When you look at him, a smile is plastered to his face.

“I’m sorry, Jace, but that was one of the funniest things I’ve ever witness,” you say, fighting off your laughter. He tries to look angry, but his smile returns at the fact you said his name, and he smiles again.

“So,” he calls out, turning to face to his brothers, “What was my fatal mistake?”

“You took your eyes off your opponent,” Aegon says.

“You were staring at Y/N,” Joffrey says, smirking in your direction. Heat spreads over your cheeks, but you don't break his stare.

“I became distracted, yes,” Jace says, “Ideally, when you do face an opponent, there won’t be a beautiful woman there to distract you, but it is important to always stay vigilant.” He puts the younger boys back into position, calling moves for them to display.

You watch for another half an hour or so, admiring the care Jace takes with his brothers; the subtle way he’ll cuff their chins or ruffle their hair after giving them a firm correction. The younger boys catch on quickly and clearly enjoy the extended attention from Jacaerys.

When the younger two leave the field, you plan to do so as well, until Jace calls your name. You meet him again over the balcony, looking down at him. He has gotten sweatier, his curls becoming more unruly. He stripped off his breast plate, leaving him in just his undershirt, which clings to his chest. You think he has done it on purpose, given the delight in his eyes when you can’t take yours off him.

“Care to join us?” he asks, panting slightly.

“What?”

“You said you were a sparring partner for Joff back in the Vale,” he says, a growing smile on his face, “I’d quite like to see what you can do.” You are momentarily speechless, laughing in disbelief.

“No, I don’t think that would be a good idea,” you say.

“We’ll go easy on you,” he says.

“Is that what you think I’m worried about?” you ask, cocking your head to the right slightly. Jace beams, biting his lip to try and hide the smile.

“No, I think you’re afraid to be close to me right now,” he says, quiet enough that only you can hear. “Given how you have been staring at me all afternoon.”

“You think highly of yourself, Your Highness.”

“Come down,” he says simply. You take in a breath, knowing that you can’t fight him anymore.

“Fine,” you say.

When you step out onto the training grounds, Jace is stunned into silence. He is not sure he has ever seen you in trousers before, and the pair you wear now cling to your thighs, leaving very little to his imagination. The blue tunic you wear over top is fitted as well, cinched at your waist, pushing up your cleavage prominently. Joffrey looks between you and Jace as you walk onto the field and just shakes his head with a laugh.

“Good luck with that,” he says, patting his brother on the back.

“You’re not staying?” Jace asks.

“No, I think I’ll give you some alone time. Besides, Aegon bruised the hell out of my chest,” he says, rubbing the spot. “Think I’ll need a few hours of rest at the very least.” He finishes his sentence with a wink before walking away. He says something to you on his way out.

“I think you scared Joffrey off,” Jace says when you walk up to him.

“He remembers my fighting prowess all too well,” you say with a smirk. Jace extends his hand out to the rack of weapons. He watches your eyes widen on the Valyrian steel swords, the axes, and the mace. You pick up a wooden sword.

“A fine choice.”

“Are you going to make fun of my decisions or spar with me?” you ask, folding your arms across your chest. The aggravated look you give him for some strange reason heats his skin, and he picks up his own wooden sword to give himself something else to look at.

“So,” he says, “How goes the suitor hunt?” He readies himself into a fighting stance, waiting for you to do the same. When you do, you lunge first, a simple move, but executed perfectly. Jace blocks you easily and both of you back up.

“It’s been a lot of work,” you say, quickly moving your sword when he tries to cut into you. Jace smiles, impressed. “You cannot believe how many men Rhaena and Baela have found.”

“No one standing out?” he asks, jumping back slightly when you advance towards him.

“Not for the right reasons,” you say. Jace strikes back against your blade, pushing you back a few steps with a flourish until you nearly fall onto your ass. He grabs your arm before you can, righting you gently.

“Sorry,” he says.

“Don’t be,” you say breathlessly, looking up at him. “That was a good move.”

“Thanks,” he says, a soft grin on his face as he steps back.

“Show me,” you say, “How to do that.”

“I can,” he says, “But I’ll have to get closer to you.” He watches your cheeks heat and is filled with pride.

“This again?” you ask, “I was not watching you.”

“Of course not,” he says. He moves behind you, nearly shaking as his hands straighten your shoulders. He moves his arm around you, holding your own as he moves them into the correct position. He can feel the quiver of your breath, and has to center himself to keep from doing something stupid in front of the rest of the men on the field.

“So, you’ll hold your blade upright like that,” he says, watching in awe as gooseflesh appears across your shoulder at his words, spoken close to your skin. “And when you lunge, you’ll move like this.” He puts a hand on your waist and moves forward with you. You barely move, so shocked are you by his close proximity. When you butcher the move, you laugh, your head thrown back just slightly, so that your hair falls onto Jace’s arm, and he gets an extended view of your neck.

“Sorry,” you say, shaking your head as you right yourself again.

“Don’t be,” he says gently.

“Like this?” you ask, stepping forward, Jace still locked with you. You execute the move perfectly, but Jace has you try it another few times, to keep you close to him for longer. When he knows he can’t stay behind you for any more, he breaks away and watches you complete the move.

“Well done,” he says, trying not to stare at your sweaty brow, the few hairs that cling to it. You are panting, and the rise and fall of your chest does wonders for the already exposed cleavage. He is not sure where he should turn his gaze.

“You are an excellent trainer,” you say.

“You’re my first,” he says. Heat rises to his cheeks, before he corrects himself, “My first pupil, besides my brothers.”

“Right,” you say, returning the wooden sword to the rack. “Well, thank you again. This was a lovely distraction from . . . everything.”

“Anytime,” he says. You turn to leave, but he stops you as he says, “I mean it. Anytime. I know you have your meetings with the suitors, but if you ever need an out, I’m here.”

“Thank you, My Prince,” you say, giving him a kind smile before leaving the field.

The next two weeks, you do take him up on the offer. You find him after a torturous afternoon spent with Lord Musgood, who said very little to you, and instead spent most of his time studying the flowers in the garden. The prince helps you craft a lie to leave him in the gardens, and you end up spending the rest of the day with him instead, creating a list of lies to use when you need to leave a meeting.

On days when you have no meetings, you spend at least one meal with him, recounting the events with the men, what they did to make you laugh, what you knew would make him laugh.

On the third week of your suitor meetings, you are searching for an out that never seems to come. Ser Rowan never gives you a chance to tell a lie, given that he rambles on and on about the livestock in his home. As you pass through the halls of the Red Keep, one you’re sure you’ve passed once before, you are desperate for an escape.

He's left you no choice but to literally escape. As you near the entrance to the very gardens you left Lord Musgood in, you slow your steps. Ser Rowan doesn’t seem to notice. You stop completely, giving him one second to notice your absence, before you slip out into the night air, into the dark, damp of the gardens.

You wait silently by the entrance, waiting for him to turn around and call after you. After a few minutes, you let out a breath and wander deeper into the gardens. A few aisles down, you hear a crack of a twig. You expect it to be a gardener, or perhaps Ser Rowan, but when you turn around, Jace is there instead.

His sudden appearance startles you. You put a hand to your chest, to soothe the pounding heart underneath. He stops underneath an archway, a few feet from you.

“Your Highness,” you say in a breath.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was out here. I didn’t mean to startle you.” You nod your head, letting out a deep breath. “What are you doing out here? I thought you were spending time with Ser Rowan.”

“Unfortunately, I was,” you say with a frown, stepping closer to him. Jace bites back a smile, studying your face.

“What happened?” he asks.

“I now know about the mating habits of cattle at his home,” you say, relaxing when he laughs. “There is one cow in particular, bit of a harlot,” you say.

“The scandal,” Jace says, leaning against the archway. “How did you get away from him? Did you use the story we used on Ser Dayne or did you fake an illness like we did with Ser Rosby?”

“Neither, actually,” you say, leaning up against the opposite end of the arch. “I couldn’t get a word in, so I just ran when I had the chance.” This sends Jacaerys into a new wave of laughter, snorting at your folly.

“So, this one isn’t a keeper either,” he says gently.

“No.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, but you’re sure he doesn’t mean it.

“So am I,” you say, “I’m starting to run out of options, and with my history of abandoning these men, I won’t even be able to settle for the boring ones, either.”

“If only you didn’t have to settle,” he says. For once, he isn’t looking at you.

“A luxury I, unfortunately, don’t have,” you say.

“But if you—"

“Y/N?”

Jace quiets as Ser Rowan enters the gardens, calling out your name. You look to him with wide, panicked eyes. Quickly, he grabs your hand and pulls you into the maze-like gardens. The lord calls out again, clearly hearing your footsteps. Jace pulls you into an alcove, surrounded by shrubbery, with a fountain at its center. Pressed into a corner, you both wait with shallow breath to see if the lord follows.

After a few minutes, he grumbles to himself and enters the castle proper. When he is out of sight, you both let out a gasp of relief. The movement brings Jace’s chest to your back, and you suddenly realize how close you are standing. Your body is sheltered by his arms, fitted perfectly against his.

You make to move away, but Jace stops you with a hand around your wrist.

“What are—”

“You’ve got something.” His other hand reaches into your hair delicately and extracts a twig that had gotten caught from the shrubbery.

“Thank you,” you say, stepping back quickly. He watches you move away with a strange expression on his face.

“He does seem the sort to ramble on about cattle,” he says, making you laugh. It releases a tension in you, and you can see Jace notice the change.

“Now you see why I ran,” you say with a smile. You walk over to the fountain, your fingers trailing through the cool water. “You’re lucky to have Baela,” you say. Jace doesn’t say anything, but follows you, looking at your reflection in the fountain. “She is lovely.”

“She is.”

“The sort who wouldn’t wax on about cattle,” you say, chancing a look up at him. He smiles, but it’s not the same. It seems to be working hard to mask the sadness that is really on his face.

“I have never known her to, no,” he says.

“It must be a relief, that you know your future spouse so well. No surprises.”

“It can be difficult, too,” he says, looking into the water. “I have known Baela all my life, and while she is lovely, we don’t necessarily have a love match.”

“Does anyone?” you ask with a laugh.

“I’d like to think so,” he says, turning to meet your eyes. You can see that he is serious.

“Sadly, I don’t think people get to marry the ones they love too often,” you say. “Politics always seems to get in the way.”

“It’s something I’d like to change when I become king,” he says boldly. You raise an eyebrow at him, before pacing around the fountain, your fingers running along the wet grout pattern.

“You’ll be married to Baela by then,” you say, “Your mother will live a long life as our queen, and by the time you get to the throne, you and Baela will have five sons already.” He doesn’t say anything, his jaw clenched tight, and you realize how inappropriate what you just said was, how inappropriate you’ve been with him all night. “I’m sorry,” you say quickly, “I’m not sure what’s gotten into me today.”

“Y/N,” he says, stopping you when you circle back to him, his hand on your forearm. The motion draws your face up to his. “Where will you be?”

“What?”

“When I am king, with five sons by Baela, where will you be?” he asks.

“I suppose married as well,” you say, your voice suddenly weak. At his proximity, you are once again nearly speechless, your heart thudding.

“With five sons?” he asks.

“If the gods see fit to bless me with them,” you say, glancing down at the hand still wrapped around you. Jace drops his hand, looking down at his own.

“And who is this husband?” he asks.

“I haven’t a clue,” you say, sitting along the edge of the fountain, “You’ve seen my candidates.”

“No love matches there,” he says.

“No.”

“But there must be some contenders? Someone who made you feel something,” he says, looking at you. The conversation has taken a turn somewhere it can’t go, and you sigh.

“Jace,” you say. He moves closer to you, his eyes searching your face frantically as he shortens the minimal gap between the two of you. A gentle, calloused hand cups your cheek and makes you look him in the eye.

“There’s no one who makes you feel anything?” he asks again.

“None of the suitors,” you whisper. He is moving closer, and you both want to stop him and want him to close the space between you. But when you feel his breath on your lip, you turn away, taking in a shaky breath. You stand and put a few paces between the pair of you.

“I’m sorry, I—”

“How are you able to fight your feelings?” he asks quietly, a tortured expression on his face. He runs a hand through his hair anxiously, leaving his curls strewn haphazardly. “I know you feel the same.”

“Jace,” you say with a sigh.

“How?”

“I keep those longings locked away,” you say, hating that you’re admitting to him these feelings.

“Why?”

“Because following them can lead nowhere good,” you say, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. He moves in closer, his hand on your waist, keeping your chest pressed to his.

“This doesn’t feel good?” he asks with a shake of his head. You put a hand to his strong chest, pushing off gently.

“That’s not what I mean,” you say. “You are a prince, Jace, and you are betrothed. Letting these feelings out . . . it won't end well."

“So, you’ll just live without ever knowing?” he asks. “Without knowing what it’s like to kiss me, to be held by—”

“Yes,” you say, cutting him off, “Yes. If they stay thoughts, they cannot hurt me. We’ve already done it all in my mind, and that is enough. It has to be,” you say.

“You deserve so much better than those third-born sons,” he says.

“I don’t,” you say.

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t, Jace. I deserve exactly these men. They aren’t asking for a dowry, for land, or a title. They are asking for a wife. That is the only thing I have to offer them.”

“You have so much more—”

“Stop, please,” you say quietly. He moves closer, just a step, and draws your eyes to him. He is so beautiful, the pale moonlight lighting his features, spotlighting the pain in his eyes. He has been nothing but kind to you, and you hate that you are causing him pain.

“It’s best if we pretend these feelings don’t exist,” you say, nodding up at him, waiting for him to agree.

“If that’s what you want,” he says quietly.

“It’s what I need,” you say. “It’s a vow we both need to uphold, somehow.”

“Alright,” he says, his face falling. “We’ll pretend.”

“Okay.”

“You should probably get back to your quarters,” he says, moving away from you with a sniff. “Before he comes looking again.”

“Right,” you say, straightening. “Thank you, again, Your Highness.” He frowns at the title, but nods.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

[aemondapologistfrfr]

More Beautiful Than the Stars

addam velaryon x targ!fem!reader

Summary: After the war Rhaenyra has you enter a strategic marriage. You were unsure at first but quickly fell for your betrothed. After a moon of courting you two cannot wait to be wed. 

Warnings: 18+ wine, mentions of death from the war, arranged betrothal, oral (f receiving), p in v, proof read like 95%

Authors Note: i was late to work bc i wanted to keep writing this :))

Word Count: 6.8k anyways 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

In the wake of the war we’ve lost many who were in high positions of power and authority. Lesser Lords and Lady’s have been granted new lands and titles helping strengthen the loyalty to my mother. What took everyone by surprise was when she offered Driftmark to Addam Velaryon. 

The house seat should’ve passed to one of my brothers should they have lived. Addams elder brother refused due to resentment of Corlys. I can’t blame him for his feelings, if I was in his position I would have felt the same. Addam on the other hand wanted the recognition and the title. He served my mother well and faithfully even when Corlys did not. 

I think my mother sees a lot of Leanor in him. He has a gentle and kind spirit who is very laid back but fiercely protective. I’ve never had much interaction with him since we met right before the war. I did admire him for his bravery to flying to war in the name of my mother on dragonback. Now I’m watching his eyes water as my mother offers him Driftmark and all the comes with it. 

“Your Grace, I am honored.” Addam bows his head deeply and goes to his knee. 

“Rise, Addam, Lord of the Tides.” Rhaenyra smiles pulling him up to his feet. 

“I don’t know what to say.” he shakes his head as a smile spreads across his face. 

“Say yes, and become my master of ships.” she hums as he shakes his head in disbelief. 

“I will serve you well and faithfully. I am yours to command.” he nods and she dismisses him from the council chambers. 

“That was very generous,” I hum nodding my head to her. 

“I have one more thing to offer him.” she nibbles on her lip looking to me. 

“What more could you offer him?” I tilt my head. 

“A wife.” I shake my head in confusion. 

“I didn’t think you were so eager to marry again?” I study her face. 

“Not me, my sweet girl.” she reaches across the table to hold my hand. 

“Who?” my heart starts to race as I fear I know her answer. 

“You.” I feel my heart drop. 

“Mother, I barely know him.” my voice cracks. 

“You’ll get to know him. You’ll stay with him on Driftmark for a moon and then you will marry. I need you to do this for me. I need you there making sure he remains loyal.” her eyes pleading to mine. 

“There’s no one else to contest your throne. Why do you remain so paranoid mother?” I don’t mean to lash out with my words but I never expected her to marry me off. 

“As long as I, a woman, sit the throne there will always be scores of men to contest my birthright.” her eyes harden and she pulls her hand back. 

The chair groans as I push it against the stone and leave the hall. I try to control my breathing as I make it to my chambers. I never thought she would put me into a marriage pact. I knew with the end of the war I would be expected to marry but I didn’t think she would choose for me. 

As I push my chamber doors open I see a half dozen maids packing my bags and trunks. My breath catches at how quickly I’m to leave apparently. I feel like everything is moving so quickly as I just stand idly by. I lay back on my bed and breathe deeply as my maids continue to work. 

“Is there anything I can get you, Princess?” one of them comes to my side. 

“Please just leave me.” I wave my hand at them and they’re scurrying out of my chambers quickly. 

I sigh and turn to burry my face in my pillow. It’s not that I don’t like him, I just don’t know him. The small conversations we have had he’s been nothing but kind and sweet. I groan into the pillow feeling sorry for myself and pouting. I rise from the bed and drag my feet across the stone to finish shoving gowns into my trunks. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

As we enter the docking area I look around at the life buzzing around them. Seasmoke sings out a song over the docks as he dips in and out of the water. Once the boat stops moving I get up and walk to the edge to make it to land again. The rickety ladder won’t pull from the dock and I’m ready to tell them to just turn the boat around. 

“Allow me.” Addams voice trails from the dock and I look him over. 

He pulls on the ladder and it still won’t budge. I look to him with a raised brow as he huffs and looks up to me. He reaches up and I gasp as his hands wrap around my waist as he lifts me down to the docks with him. I steady my feet and tilt my neck to look up to him. 

“Thank you,” I feel my cheeks heat as his smile spreads across his face. 

“Of course, my Princess.” he dips his head down. 

“Y/n will do just fine.” I smooth my skirts as he continues to smile down at me. 

“Come, Y/n. Let me show you to your chambers.” he offers me his arm and I reluctantly accept as he leads me through the docks and people. 

“How fares Driftmark, my Lord?” I ask breaking our silence. 

“It fares better now that a beautiful Targaryen Princess has graced its shores.” I blush at his words and avoid his eyes. “I’m sorry if that was too forward.” he says worriedly. 

“No, my Lord it’s okay.” I shake my head hoping my blush recedes.

“Please, call me Addam.” he hums as we turn and start our way up to the castle. 

My eyes dart around the castle as I take in its beauty. Guards and servants bow their heads to us as we enter. My head tilts up to take in the enormity of the hall and its ceilings. I look across the hall and can see the Blackwater crashing into the stony shore. He leads me up the stairs and looks both ways. 

“I must admit I’m still learning this castle.” he murmurs leading us right. “But I’ll be able to show you the best places in Hull and Spicetown with ease.” he smiles down to me. 

“We shall learn this castle together then.” I offer him a small smile of my own. 

“Here we are.” he stops in front of a large set of double doors with a guard standing sentry. 

“My trunks and bags?” I turn to him. 

“Are being brought up. I will go check on them. I’ll send a servant up to see to it your needs are met while I’m indisposed. Should you need me let your guard know and I will come at once. No matter how small the issue is, I will come.” Addams words a promise as he nods his head to me. I go to turn to slip into my chambers and he grabs my hand and places a soft kiss on it. 

I click my doors shut behind me and pray he didn’t see my cheeks catch on fire. Gods that man is so chivalrous. I look around the chambers and see how massive they truly are. I’m standing in what I assume to be the solar as there’s a large table with chairs and couches spread around a rug. I walk into the next room and gasp as I see the bed. The bed takes up an entire wall with stone pillars jutting up to the ceiling. There’s a small couch in front of a great hearth with fur hanging off the back. I peer through the next set of doors and smile at the sunken pool I have as a bath. I look out to the balcony and dip down to one of the chairs to soak in the salt in the air. 

“Princess,” I hear a woman’s voice come from inside my chambers. “Is there anything I can do for you?” the maid lowers her head. 

“Maybe some wine and a fire.” I ask softly not wanting to be too demanding already. 

“Of course, at once.” she nods her head and is out of the doors before I can even offer her thanks. 

I get up and walk back into the main room as my bags and trunks are trickling in. Maids start to unpack them at once and begin to hang my gowns. The first maid comes back with a glass of wine and a man trailing behind with wood. I thank the woman for the wine and the man who starts my fire. I thank the servants in my room and offer them leave. I wish to unpack myself and set out gowns for my upcoming days. 

I change into a fresh gown and peek out my doors. I close them behind me and the guard goes to follow me. I shake my head saying I’m just staying to the castle. My skirts flow behind me as I start around the corner. I go to turn another corner until I hear a couple of maids talking about Addam. 

“Can you believe he gave her the main chambers?” the first woman’s voice hushed. 

“You sound jealous.” the second woman scolds. 

“Of course I am. He lets her sleep lavish while he goes to the guest chambers. I heard she pouted the whole way here.” my heart beats at the insinuation that he gave away his chambers to me. I care not if they think I pouted, because I probably did.

“She just lost most of her family to war and now she’s being sent away from her remaining family to be wed.” one of them defends me and I decide I like her. 

“How terrible it must be to be a Princess of the realm and be forced to marry a handsome Lord who also rides a dragon.” I can hear the eye roll in her voice and I’ve had enough. 

“Did you watch your family get taken by The Stranger day after day?” I ask turning the corner. “Did you watch your family crumble to the ground around you? Tell me.” I cross my arms looking to her. 

“My Princess, I didn’t mean-“ 

“What did you mean then?” I cut her off narrowing my eyes at her before looking to the other who I recognize as the first woman to bring me wine.

“I just- I I’m sorry.” she lowers her head and scurries down the hall. 

“I’m sorry for her words, my Princess.” she dips her head.

“Thank you for defending me, what is your name?” I hum looking her over. 

“Cyerra, if you wish.” she keeps her head bowed. 

“Cyerra I would be honored if you would be my personal handmaid. I need someone headstrong and loyal and I fear I have no friends here.” my voice hushed as her eyes rise to mine. 

“You honor me.” her voice shakes. “I shall be your friend and anything you need.” she smiles. 

“Thank you, Cyerra.” I smile to match hers. “Does this place have a library?” she smiles even wider and I follow after her as she leads me through the winding stone halls. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

My first week on Driftmark has been going well. Cyerra keeps me company when I’m not roaming the library for a new book. Addam has been very sweet but has had a lot of meetings to deal with due to his new position.

“Do you ever go anywhere else?” Addams voice reverberates off the library walls and I huff and put my book down. 

“I go outside..” I trail off. “Sometimes.” he smiles and takes a seat next to me. 

“The people are curious about you, they wish to meet you.” he says softly as his eyes search mine. 

“What if they don’t like me?” my voice hushed. 

“How could they not?” he scrunches his brows. “Come, let me show you around Hull and maybe if you like it I can take you dancing.” his smile is infectious as I abandon the book and accept his hand as we exit the library.

As we exit the castle I feel as if everyone is staring at me. I lean into Addams side more and he looks down to me to offer me a comforting smile. We walk through the main gates and continue on into the crowd. People stop and talk to him and offer me warm smiles and welcomes. 

“This is where I grew up.” his voice soft as we enter into a different part of town. “It is my wish to focus on and help the people of this island. We may be formidable but we could use help.” he ushers me over to a stall with delicious smelling food. 

He offers the vendor more coin than this stick of meat is worth and hands it to me. I moan as the meat melts into my mouth. I eat another piece before offering him some. He shakes his head and I finish the rest not caring about the juices sliding down my fingers. 

“That was divine.” I lick my lips looking up to him with a smile. 

“Let me show you my favorite.” he smiles grabbing my hand and leading me to another vendor. This time it’s a smoked fish that is well seasoned and smoked. 

“Addam,” I moan as I take another bite. “I fear I’ll eat Hull dry.” I giggle as he wipes the side of my mouth. 

“There’s another delicacy we’re known for, but it’s not everyone’s favorite.” he leads me down the streets closer to the docks. 

I look at the small chopped up raw fish in front of me with vegetables and grains. I sniff it and look at Addam with raised eyebrows. He pops a piece into his mouth and blink at him in surprise. 

“You eat it raw?” my voice full of concern. 

“You’d be surprised at how good it is raw.” he hums bringing a piece to my lips. 

I sigh and accept the fish from his fingers. The texture throws me off but the flavors still burst through my mouth. I chew almost in question as I contemplate if I like it. 

“Not my favorite, but I don’t hate it.” I take another piece to try it some more as he chuckles softly. 

The sun slowly begins to drop behind the horizon as we stop at more vendors and I try new foods and drinks. We walk deeper into the city until we start to hear laughing and music. He pulls me into a tavern and it erupts into cheers as we enter. 

“Lord Addam!” they all cheer and clap as I look up to him admiring his smile. 

“You’ve finally blessed us with a glimpse of your beautiful Princess.” a man approaches and bows deeply to me. 

“That is unnecessary,” I shake my head with a smile. “There’s no need to bow to me.” the man rises with a smirk. 

“You’ve got yourself a sweet one.” he claps Addam on the shoulder before disappearing into the crowd. 

“A drink?” Addam smiles down to me and I nod. 

He leads us to the bar hands and encases me with his body placing both of his hands on either side of me on the bar top. I lean back into his chest enjoying the simple protection he’s offering me from the crowd. I don’t even focus on his words to the man and allow myself to shrink into him. 

“Did you hear me?” his voice is low as he dips down to my ear. 

“Hm?” I hum turning my head to him and blush at how close our faces are. 

“I asked if you wanted to go to a table.” I blink up to him still lost. 

He chuckles and grabs both of the cups by their handles in one hand. He turns us and keeps an arm around me as he pulls us to a back corner. He somehow manages to find us an empty table in the back and I take a sip from the cup he places in front of me. It burns as it goes down my throat and warms the entity of my body as I relax back into my seat. 

“What are you thinking about?” he hums from next to me. 

“How I could feel this warming me all the way down to my toes.” I raise my cup to him with a smile. 

“If you ever wish for me to help warm you up, just say the word.” his words playful. 

“Addam,” I gasp as my cheeks heat. 

“I jest,” he jokes but I can see the seriousness in his eyes. “I’ll get you hot enough when we dance you’ll be asking me to help cool you down.” his smirk is downright devious. 

“Is this your attempt to get me out of my gown before we wed?” a smile plays at my lips. 

“Is it working?” he licks his lips as he looks to mine as I tilt my head up to him before rising to meet his face. 

“Not in the slightest.” I kiss his nose and sit back down. 

“I don’t mind waiting.” he chuckles taking a sip from his cup. 

We drain our cups continuously teasing one another. I’m in a fit of giggles at his words when the music gets louder and starts to thrum through me. I look to the moving bodies and turn back to Addam. 

“I want to dance.” I pout my lips to him. 

He rises and pulls me up by both of my hands. Giggles spill from my mouth at my uneven feet and he’s quick to steady me. He shakes his head looking at me with lowered lids as he brings us to the moving bodies. His hands go to my waist and pull me close. I sigh resting my head against his chest as we begin to sway to the music. My hands roam across his back fueled by liquid courage. 

We dance and hold each other as if we’re the only people in this building. His hands squeeze at my hips every now and then reminding me of his delicious strength. We slowly pull apart and we take in each other’s heavy breathing. 

“It’s late, let me take you back to the castle.” he says lowly and I nod my head not trusting my voice. 

He gets us back to the castle in impressive time and is helping me navigate the stairs as I’m still on uneven feet. I giggle when he gives up guiding me and simply tosses me over his shoulder. His hands hold on at the back of my thighs and I squirm in his arms. He sets me down in front of my doors and looks down to me with a lazy smile. 

“The maids said you gave me your chambers.” I look up to him. 

“So what if I did?” he bites his lip. 

“You didn’t have to.” I murmur. 

“I’ll be moving back in soon enough,” he places a kiss on my forehead and opens the doors for me. He seals the doors shut and leaves me to our large apartments. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

I groan as Cyerra opens the curtains and lets in the early morning light. I kick the blankets off of me and stretch across the bed. She starts to revive the fire to ward off the chill and goes to my wardrobe to find appropriate attire for collecting shells and muscles. 

“Curse Addam for having me wake so early.” I groan wiping my eyes. 

“It’s not so early.” Cyerra chuckles bringing me over a pair of pants and a white billowy shirt. 

“Could you possibly get me some tea?” I rise from the bed stretching once more. 

“Of course, I can always have it brought up in the mornings if you wish.” she offers. 

“No no, that’s too much trouble.” I shake my head grabbing for the pants. 

“It’s not, my Princess. If it makes you happy.” Cyerra nods walking to the door. 

I sigh at how much she waits on me. I slip the pants on and walk around getting used to them. I rarely wear pants and they just feel so different. I pull the shirt over my head and push the sleeves up my arms. I step into my slippers cuffing my pants up and go sprawl on a couch in the solar. 

“Your tea, my Princess.” Addams voice comes into the room as he kneels before me and offers me my tea. 

“Why must everyone insist on waiting on me?” I playfully roll my eyes and accept the tea. 

“What a tragedy.” he shakes his head and sits next to me on the couch. “Are you ready for a day on the shores?” he hums placing my legs in his lap and massaging my calves. 

“I am, but I’m afraid I lack the proper footwear.” I rub my fur lined slippers. 

“Is this you asking me to carry you on the sands?” he leans his head back onto the couch and lets out a laugh at my face. 

“No, I expect a full covered litter with at least ten men carrying me.” I hum sipping my tea. 

“At once,” he chuckles rising and offering me his hand. 

I quickly finish my tea and discard the cup on the table. We’re bounding down the main stairs quickly. Addam pulls me along and soon we’re approaching the shores. We stop on the edge of the sands and he begins to remove his boots. 

“I won’t make you be the only one barefoot.” he tosses his boots to the side and I start to push off my slippers. “Ready?” he pulls me into the warm sand and my toes curl in. 

“It’s so soft and warm.” we continue to pad out to the water. 

Addam pulls me away from the workers so we don’t interrupt their flow. He’s brought a small basket with us to put our collection in. He falls to his knees near the water and waves me over. I look down and thank the Gods I’m wearing black pants before I shrug and kneel next to him. 

“This is where it gets fun.” he smiles and shoves his arms into the sand up to the elbow. When he heaves the sand back up there’s a bunch of muscles that he quickly grabs and tosses into the basket. 

“How do you know where they are?” I tilt my head as he places more shells into the basket. 

“You’ll feel them.” he nods encouragingly. “So hands open and pull up.” I bite my lip as start to emerge my hands into the sand. 

The sand is cold and damp as I plunge my hands in deeper. I don’t feel anything so I push my hands further down until my nose is practically touching the sand. My finger grazes a cold, slimy shell and I yelp pulling my hands out quickly causing me to fall back.

“What happened? Are you okay?” Addam is quickly hovering over me and smiles once he sees I’m laughing. 

“I didn’t know they would be so slimy.” I get out in between giggles as he helps me upright. “Let me try again.” I steady my breathing and plunge back into the sands. I give a small jolt when I feel them and I pull up quickly. 

“Very good.” his smile is genuine as he begins to pick out the shells. 

We dig in the sands for a while longer until we decide to stop and admire the water. We walk around the shore line allowing the water to lick at our heels. We stop and pick up rocks that catch our eye. As I pick up a particularly vibrant one his hands linger on mine as we examine it. As I look up to him I see that he’s staring at me and I blush pulling the rock into my hand. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to drone on.” I say looking down. 

“You weren’t.” my eyes lock to his. “I was just admiring you.” his words are soft as a snails spreads over his features. 

“Mm, and what were you admiring?” I tease pursing my lips. 

“Everything.” his eyes look to my lips before they flick back to mine. 

“Everything?” my tongue licks along my bottom lip and I see his eyes catch the movement. 

“I want to kiss you.” his face moves closer to mine. 

“I want you to kiss me.” he kisses me once the words leave my mouth. He pulls me closer deepening the kiss. My hands hold on to his back as he cups my face. His tongue dances with mine as we melt into one another. He pulls back as we both breathe heavily. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while.” he offers me a soft smile. “There’s a lot of things I want to do.” his voice low which stirs something low in my stomach. 

“Like what?” my voice still breathless but not from the kiss and he smiles knowing it. 

“You’ll find out soon enough.” he chuckles at my red cheeks. “You seem flushed. Shall we cool down in the water?” he scoops me up and runs us into the waves and I gasp as it splashes on us and he sets me in the water. 

“Addam,” I huff as the cold water seeps through my shirt. I push him back and he falls back into the water laughing loudly. 

“You don’t seem as flushed anymore, my Princess.” he hums as he stays below the water and starts creeping his hands up my sides. “Although, I made your shirt see through and it seems as if you’re too cold now.” he pointedly looks to my chest and I look down seeing my nipples pushing through the wet fabric. 

“Was that your plan?” I look down to him huffing with red cheeks trying to hide the smile on my face. 

“No,” he shakes his head trying to look anywhere but my chest. “You can use mine and hopefully it’ll cover you up a bit more.” he pulls off his shirt quickly and hands it to me. 

“You’re the only one here so I don’t mind.” I push his shirt back in his hands but don’t miss an opportunity to allow my eyes to linger on his muscles. 

“Are you admiring me?” his tone playful as he inches closer. 

“I am.” I nod my head as my hands spread across his toned stomach. “You are very handsome.” I hum as my hands slide up his chest. 

“How long until we’re wed?” Addams voice low as his hands grab mine.

“Just under a fortnight.” I look up to him. 

“Gods give me patience.” he mumbles before pressing his lips softly against mine. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

I lay awake in bed tossing and turning. I kick off the blankets and walk out to the balcony to see if the night air will help. The breeze kisses my heated skin and I sigh out. It’s times like this when I wish I had a dragon of my own to fly under the moonlight. I walk to the door and crack it open. 

“If Addam is awake, could you see if he could come here?” I ask softly. 

He turns the corner and I click the door shut behind me. I sit on the couch in the solar looking to the door waiting. There’s a quick knock and he’s slipping inside the doors. 

“What’s wrong?” he looks around the room and looks me over to make sure I’m unharmed. 

“I couldn’t find sleep.” I chew my lip. “I wanted to know if you could take me for a ride on Seasmoke.” I look up to him as he sighs in relief. 

“It’s cold out.” he looks over my simple night dress. 

“I’m hot.” I bring his hand to my forehead. “If not, could we walk along the shore?” I look up to him with pleading eyes. 

“You will let me at least put you in a cloak.” his lips turn upwards as he leads me back into the bed chambers to my wardrobe. 

“Are you ready to have your bed chambers back?” I ask taking the cloak he hands me. 

“Only two days left.” he hums pulling the cloak around me. 

I trail after him as he takes me to the shores. I try to take off the cloak multiple times but Addam will hear none of it. There’s a low whistle on the wind and Seasmoke lands on the sands in front of us. He walks up quickly and I curl into Addams side. Seasmoke tilts his head as Addam lets out a low chuckle. 

“He is truly more cat than dragon.” he rubs my shoulders trying to soothe me. “You’re going to scare her off.” Addam chides as Seasmoke burrows his snout into the sand huffing. 

“You speak the language well.” I hum watching him walk up to his dragon. 

“That means a lot. Thank you, my Princess.” he rubs Seasmokes neck and he seems to purr. 

Addam waves me over and I slowly walk to him. My hand slips into his as he brings it to rest on Seasmoke. The dragon leans into our touch and gives a soft chuff. Addam walks us over to his wing and nods at me to start climbing. I make my way up to the saddle and I feel Addam following close behind. We settle and Seasmoke has us launching into the skies. 

I lean back into Addam who holds me tightly from behind. Seasmoke circles us around the island and I sigh as the moonlight kisses our skin. The breeze flows through my hair and I close my eyes contented. Addam leans into me as we allow the skies to lull us into a dreamlike state. 

Seasmoke lands us on the barren shores before he shoots himself back into the skies. I slip the cloak off and lay it on the sands. I kneel down and lay back to look up at the stars. He joins me on the cloak and looks over to me. I turn my head with a smile spread across my face. 

“You’re supposed to look at the stars.” I purse my lips. 

“Mm, but I’d much rather look at you.” he turns on his side so he’s fully facing me. “You’re more beautiful than the stars.” he looks at me with pure devotion.

I lean in and press my lips against his. I melt into his touch as he rolls over on top of me. I pull him down to me to reunite our lips once more. I pull around his body trying to get him to press against me but he’s steadfast. I hook my legs around his waist and try to lure him that way but he just chuckles into my mouth as I’m just hanging off of him. 

“Addam,” I whine against his lips. 

“You’re gunna kill me.” he groans dipping down to capture my lips once more. He rolls back over onto his back and I turn over narrowing my eyes at him. “I can feel how hard you’re staring.” his chest moves up and down as he chuckles. 

“Do you not want to touch me?” he rolls his eyes as he turns to me. 

“You know that I want to touch you so very badly.” his voice low as he looks at me with dark eyes. 

“Do you?” I scoot closer to him. 

“Y/n,” his hand goes to my waist, his voice strained as I drape across his chest. 

“I can’t sleep because you’re all I think about at night.” I whisper against his lips. “I work myself up to the point where I get so hot it’s unbearable. It’s why I had you come to me tonight, I couldn’t take it anymore.” my voice barely a whisper as his fingers dig into my sides. 

“Then I’m just going to kiss you as you look at the stars.” he smirks as he flips us over once more. 

“Well how am I going to see the stars your head is in the way.” I giggle before he captures my lips and trails them down to my neck. I gasp as his tongue licks across my throat. 

“I’m gunna kiss you other places if that’s okay?” he pulls back and looks down to me and I nod my head quickly. 

He brings his lips back down to my neck and sucks softly on my pulse. I gasp as my hands grab onto his back. He trails kisses down over my night dress and peppers his lips across my covered breasts as I arch into him. He licks around my hardened nipples before continuing down my navel. I’m panting above him as I watch him move lower. His hands spread my thighs more as he settles between them. 

“Is this okay?” he looks up to me. 

“Yes, please Addam,” I feel my body hum in anticipation. 

He licks up my slit and my head falls back into the sand. My breathing is ragged as he swirls around my throbbing bud. My hips grind against his face as a moan tears through me. His tongue lashes against my bud as my legs shake around him. 

“Addam,” I mewl as he licks down to my core. 

He wraps his arms around my thighs to hold them open as his tongue licks at me feverishly. My hips roll onto his face as they seek pleasure. Whimpers fall from my mouth along with his name as I feel myself about to go over the edge. 

“Yes, please Addam,” I sob as I explode across his tongue. 

He continues to lick at me until my thighs are shaking before he slowly pulls back. He looks down at me licking his lips. His breathing is as equally as ragged as mine and we look to each other. He pulls my night dress back down and sits back. I sit up and squeeze my thighs together still feeling my release. 

“I hope my kisses were to your liking.” he smiles looking over my flushed body. 

“I think I might need kisses every night.” I smile nibbling my lip. 

“Then you shall have them every night.” he chuckles as he stands pulling me up with him and begin to make our way back to the castle. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

“You both make such a handsome couple.” Rhaenyra beams at us after the ceremony. 

“Thank you, mother.” I feel my cheeks blush at her words. 

“She pouted the whole week before coming here, you know?” she smiles to Addam who chuckles. 

“Oh, I believe it.” he pulls me into his side. “Look she’s even pouting at our wedding.” he pinches my cheek as I roll my eyes at him. 

“I’m happy for you.” she cups my cheek before she returns to her seat. 

“You look absolutely divine in this gown, my wife.” he whispers into my ear as he leads me to the dance floor. 

He pulls me against him and smiles down at me tenderly. The rest of the hall blurs as we sway around the room together. I rest my head against his chest as I hear his steady heartbeat beneath me. He wraps his arms around me and holds me tightly. I look up to him and he places a soft kiss on my lips. As the slow song comes to an end we continue to hold each other as more couples join us in the next dance.

Throughout the night guests come up to congratulate us and we offer them polite smiles. As the night grows late I begin to get restless wanting to finally get to enjoy my husband. When there’s only a handful of guests left we retire to our chambers for the night. 

“I’m really just excited to have my bed back.” his tone playful as he opens our doors. 

I roll my eyes at him as I brush past him and walk into our bed chambers. I hear the door thud shut and he comes behind me chuckling. He starts to unlace the back of my gown causing it to slide down. I turn to him only left in my slip as he soaks in my body. 

I reach out and start to unbutton his doublet. My fingers make quick work and I’m soon pushing it down his shoulders. He pulls his shirt off quickly and my eyes linger on his muscles. His fingers grip the hem of my slip and he has it over my head in seconds. His hands caress my sides before he cups my breasts. He looks to me as he starts to softly knead them. 

“You’re perfect.” he dips down to kiss me as his fingers brush across my nipples. 

I gasp into his mouth as his fingers offer pleasure to my sensitive peaks. He drinks down my noises as one of his hands travel between my thighs. I whine pulling back as he swirls his fingers slowly around my bud. 

“Addam,” my breath comes out in pants as his fingers coax pleasure through me. 

He dips a finger into my core and a loud moan falls from my mouth. He pumps into me as his thumb starts a rhythm on my bud. I rest my head against his chest as he slips a second finger into me. I cling to his arms as whimpers pour off my lips as he begins to curl his fingers. My legs clamp around his hand as pleasure washes through me with his name on my tongue. 

“Let’s go to the bed.” he hums pulling his hand from between my thighs. 

I make it to the bed on weak legs as he chuckles keeping his hands on my waist. I fall back onto the bed and watch him begin to unlace his pants. I sit up so I can fully appreciate his body. I reach out to him and he begins to crawl over me. 

“You’re sculpted by the Gods, husband.” I pull his lips down to mine. 

His tongue pushes into my mouth as we mend ourselves together. He presses his body against mine and I sigh at the feel of him. His hips roll into mine and I squirm at the feel of his hardened length against me. His tip brushes against my wetness and I buck my hips up. 

“Are you ready?” his breath fans across my chest as he lines himself up at my core. 

“Yes,” I pant watching as he sinks into me. 

My nails dig into his back at the stretch of him. He continues to push into me until he’s fully settled. The feel of him filling me has me gasping. I move my hips slightly and whine at the stretch. My muscles continue to relax around him and soon enough I’m rolling my hips into his waiting for him to move. 

“You just feel so good.” he rasps as he starts to slowly pump into me. When he pushes his hips into mine more rushed my breath catches. “I’m sorry,” he grunts trying to slow his hips. 

“No, faster,” I buck my hips into him whining. 

He groans as he snaps his hips into mine. Moans seep through my mouth as I start to lose myself to my pleasure. I cry out his name as I pulse around him and he groans slowing his movements. His breath comes out in pants as his hips start to move faster again. 

“Yes, yes Addam,” I feel my release coiling once more. 

He finds a rhythm that has me squeezing my eyes shut. The second his thumb brushes against my bud I burst around him. His hips stutter as I feel him begin to fill me. His breath fans across my face as we both try to calm our breathing. I shiver as he pulls out of me and cuddles into my side as my eyes flutter shut. 

“Don’t go to sleep yet, I haven’t given you your goodnight kisses yet.” my thighs clench remembering my request a couple nights ago as he slides down the bed and opens my thighs once more. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

masterlist 🔌 

this got out of hand and i’m not mad abt it

taglist ✍️ 

@clarityisnofun @callsignwidow @gabriella-aesthetic @llynx7 @violetiss3lfish @anaviieiraaa @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @zanygot7straykidsbonk @thatgirl101blog @1-fuzzy-squirrels @hueanhdang

[petertingle-yipyip]

Question…? - Miguel O’hara

//the miguel brainrot brought this piece to life tbr. it’s kinda just for shits and giggles but there might be more. depends on how this one does//

Pairing: Miguel O’hara x Reader

Word Count: 3,868

Summary: The latest recruit to the Spider Society hits a bit too close to home for its head honcho. But with great power comes great persistence to get answers.

You landed on the roof of your building and pulled your mask up, wiping a hand down your slightly sweaty face. You looked at the bright display of the neon billboard across the alley and saw the breaking news story of your latest bust of the local Midnight Sons crime syndicate. You smirked slightly as you watched the reporter talk to the police who had to reluctantly admit that you, Arachne, had caught them. He tried to dance around it but the fact that your webs were covering the background made it obvious.

Just as you were about to head inside, you felt a tingle shoot down your spine. An unfamiliar yet not unwelcome sensation crawled across your skin so you quickly replaced your mask and spun around, web shooters ready. Instead of being greeted by a foe, you were greeted with a large and seemingly unstable orange circle that vaguely resembled a doorway.

Before you could say anything, you had to drop to your stomach as a motorbike came barreling through. You rolled to your back and flicked a quick burst from either wrist to latch a web to both tires. You kicked yourself back and pulled the bike with you, forcing its rider to disengage and land on the opposite side of the roof.

“Not bad.” She said, though her back was still to you as you stood slowly. “I knew you were quick, but I didn’t think you’d be that quick.”

“Right… And you are?” You asked carefully. You didn’t feel she was a threat, but something about the way she triggered that sixth sense made you tense. “I mean, you came at me full speed on a motorcycle so you owe me that.”

“Jessica Drew.” She turned to face you and the first thing you noticed was her belly. “And I’m just like you.”

“I’m not pregnant!” You decided quickly, a hand covering your stomach.

She laughed and shook her head. After a second, you hesitantly laughed with her. “I meant the Spider Woman thing.”

“Ah…” You nodded before slowly lifting your mask again. “That’s what I felt?”

“Mhmm..”

“I thought I was the only one.”

“Yes and no.” She moved towards her bike, which you hurried over to beside her. “If you’re interested, there’s someone I think you should meet.”

You followed her through the orange and ended up in a massive complex. There were dozens upon dozens of variations of… you.

A cat version. A monkey version. A dinosaur. A plushie. A cyborg. An avatar. A video game. Other girls, other guys. Any type of Spider variation you could imagine, it was there.

As you were taking it all in, you were hit with the sharpest pain you’d ever had in your life. It took over your entire body, felt as if you were being yanked apart and haphazardly put back together. Your insides felt rearranged and your head spun violently while everything seemed to be ignited. But the pain only lasted for a second.

Jessica told you it was your body glitching from being outside your own universe, which she also explained was granted the official title of Earth-3505. She slipped a blue band around your wrist and you felt every ounce of tension in your body disappear. She explained the device on her wrist, how it kept her from glitching while allowing for travel to any dimension.

You had to admit. All the tech and different universes blew every single theory and experiment you had ever known out of the water.

You were talking with Jessica through the long walk down a rather dark and drafty hall that led to a wide open work area. She called to the man on the platform, which began to lower at an agonizingly slow pace. Awkwardly, you rocked on your heels and fiddled with your web shooters, checking the cartridges and scratching away the dried remnants from your earlier endeavors. You tugged the neck of your suit and dusted imaginary dirt off before running fingers through your hair and giving it a small shake in an effort to look a bit more presentable.

When you heard the gears click into place you looked back and found yourself in utter shock, despite him not even facing you yet.

And as someone who would fight the Bloodstones, a werewolf, and the literal avatar of a god of the moon, it took a lot to render you speechless.

The man on the platform was massive. The width of his chest and shoulders alone was at least the size of a twin mattress. His height towered over yours and you could tell even from the distance he was at. His upper body narrowed ridiculously into his waist, though his legs were proportionately built as well. And covering that Hercules-esque physique was a fitted red and blue suit, just like everyone else you had seen in that building.

So why hadn’t he given you the same tingle Jessica did?

You were snapped out of your thoughts when an elbow came roughly into your ribs.

“What?” You asked quickly, an innocent obliviousness in your voice.

“Introduce yourself.” Jessica hissed.

“Right.” You nodded and took a hesitant step forward. “I’m Y/N, from Earth 35-something.”

“3505.” She whispered.

“Yeah, sorry. Anyways, I’m like you and her and everyone else here… Back home I’m called Arachne, like the.. The myth. I’m sorry, are you not gonna face me?”

“¿Mande?” He said sharply and the sound of his voice drove your pulse to jump.

“If you’re gonna have your back to me the whole time, why am I even here?” You pushed, though your resolve was slowly shattering as you watched him turn around.

The room may have been dimly lit but you could see what looked like a red tint to his eyes.

“Why are you here?” He asked tightly as he hopped off the platform and stalked closer to you. You swallowed hard and flattened your two middle fingers against your palm to feel the trigger for your webs. “Why are-“

His sentence cut off abruptly when he got a few feet away from you.

“Miguel?” Jessica asked from beside you. You had forgotten she was there but you felt a bit more relaxed to know you weren’t alone in that room. “What is it?”

“What did you say your name was?” He asked. His words were intended to be more gentle, more intimate maybe, but they still had enough of an edge to keep your fingers where they were.

“Y/N… And you’re..?”

His face fell at your uncertainty, though you doubted Jessica noticed. He recovered rather quickly, as if your words reminded him of something painful. Something he already knew.

“Miguel O’hara.” He stood a bit taller, if that was even possible.

“It’s nice to meet you… You built all of this?” You asked lamely in hopes to fill the silence that you felt would suffocate you if you ignored.

“Yeah.. It’s a way to preserve the multiverse. Everyone here was hand picked to serve a bigger cause, to protect each other’s universe and canons.”

“I assume that’ll get explained if I get in?” You turned to Jessica who nodded with a small, amused smile.

“¿Perdóname, si entras?” His head cocked as the corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk that you felt was sarcastic. “No.”

“What?” You and Jessica asked at the same time.

“No.” He enunciated, hands at his waist and leaning forward.

“Why not?” You asked angrily, stepping forward with no regard to the size difference. “I can take anyone here!”

“Miguel, she’s really good.” Jessica tried earnestly. “I think you should give her a shot.”

“No.”

“C’mon.” She pressed.

“No.”

“What are you afraid of?” You challenged suddenly and the glare he shot your way made you hesitate.

“Afraid?” He laughed. “Afraid.. I’m not afraid.”

“Then what?”

“She looks just like her.” Miguel said, more to Jessica than you.

“Who?” She asked softly.

Miguel shot her a different look than the one he gave you. This one has more longing, more pain. You looked like someone he used to know. Likely someone he lost.

“Lyla.” Jessica said softly, waiting a moment for a hologram woman in a fur coat to appear at her shoulder. “Show Y/N around a little more, please.”

“Who- Oh.” The hologram spoke before disappearing and reappearing in front of you. She leaned in and lifted her heart shaped glasses before blinking away and reappearing up at Miguel’s side. A quick back and forth of hushed comments brought her back to you as she ushered you out of the room.

Lyla spoke quickly to you, bouncing around within your field of vision. She pointed out different Spider People, different villains. She showed you the machine that sent people home and the training center. While you were wandering the vast exercise area, you met two boys playfully roughhousing who seemed to create the golden retriever with black cat meets boys will be boys dynamic.

“Ooh! Who’s the new girl?” One of them ran up to you with a palpable excitement.

“Y/N Y/L/N.” You smiled and the other one leaned in close.

“Look at that.” He said with a small smirk, seemingly changing color with each sentence. “Got little fangs and all. That’s mad.”

“Whaaaat? Let me see!” The first one pushed the taller one aside and replaced him, though he leaned in significantly closer.

“I’m guessing these aren’t normal for Spiderman.” You laughed and gently pushed him back. “What’re your names?”

“Hobie, Hobie Brown.” He offered you a short salute.

“Pavitr Prabhakar.” He gave an extravagant bow. “How long have you been a spider person?”

You blew out a sigh and tried to calculate the numbers. “A few years? It happened my senior year of high school, and then the two years there... And then.. All I know is its been a while. You guys?”

“Couple months.” Pavitr answered with a small hop. “It’s been so easy.”

“Three years.” Hobie answered simply. “And yeah, it’s not bad. Your universe a mess, then?”

“I think mine is a weird one based on what you guys have said.” You answered awkwardly. “Werewolves, swamp things, Egyptian gods, monster hunters.”

“Sounds like a fantasy book.” Hobie scoffed.

“That’s the Midnight Sons for you.” You shrugged. “There’s normal stuff too, like other vigilantes. Daredevil and Black Cat and the Widow.”

“Were they bitten by a spider too?” Pavitr added with wide eyes.

“Who, Widow? Not that I know of.”

“How’d you get the little-“ Hobie made a vague fang gesture. “You a vampire, too?”

“Well, no.” You rubbed a hand over your mouth, suddenly embarrassed of your teeth.

“You’ve got everything else. Figured you had the little blood suckers and allat.”

“There’s rumors of one guy but I haven’t met him.. Actually, the spider that bit me was a mix between the same thing that created my world’s Goblin and just the radioactive spider. It was supposed to be able to cure something but…” You shrugged.

“Do they do anything?” Pavitr asked, still looking at your mouth intently. He slowly reached a finger forward so you leaned away and gently pushed his hand to the side.

“Uh..” Your brows furrowed. “Idunno.” You mumbled as you shrugged.

“You’ve never tried to bite anyone?” He laughed and Hobie facepalmed gently. “I totally would’ve.”

“I’ll try it when I get home.” You laughed slightly. You glanced around and noticed the AI woman - Lyla - was nowhere to be seen. “Can I ask you guys something?”

“Go for it.” Hobie nodded and Pavitr’s head bounced up and down like a bobble head.

“The little AI, Lyla… Does she see everything?” You asked quietly.

“You trynna do somtin’ you shouldn’t, aye?” Hobie quirked a brow.

“I wanna try to talk to Miguel but I get the feeling that she’ll keep me away.”

“Why?” Pavitr whispered loudly,

“Cause he sent me away, said I looked too much like someone.”

“Oy, Pav.” Hobie nudged the smaller boy before leaning down and plotting quietly. They went back and forth for a few moments before looking back at you. “Make it quick, yeah?”

“I owe you.” You grinned.

Pavitr and Hobie shared a small fist bump before Pavitr reached his fist towards you. You chuckled slightly and returned the gesture before the two ran off. It was only a few moments before sprinklers went off in the room. Lyla popped in and out of view, speaking rapidly and tapping small screens in front of her. She appeared in front of you, disheveled glasses and jacket hanging from her shoulders.

“Do. Not. Move.” She said firmly and you held hands up in surrender. She pointed two fingers at her eyes before pointing to you, gesturing up and down your body before disappearing again.

You leaned around slightly to ensure her digital frame was nowhere to be seen before you booked it out of the room. Your wet feet slipped on the sleek tiles so you opted to swing across the complex and back to Miguel’s workspace.

You wiped a damp hand across your face as you entered the hall again before you pulled yourself to the ceiling and crawled down the long corridor. Jessica left in a huff, muttering that he was unreasonable and that she wasn’t done. You watched her freeze and turn around, squinting her eyes in suspicion. You stayed still above her in hopes that she wouldn’t find you but with the water subtly dripping from your suit and hair, you thought you were caught. With a small smirk, she turned back and left.

You blew out a small sigh and continued down your path until you reentered Miguel’s wide open room. His back was towards the entrance as he vigorously typed and swiped various projections away. He was muttering to himself, broken Spanglish as he worked in that increasingly frazzled state. His head cocked over his shoulder as you clung to the space above the door.

“¿Qué estás haciendo?” He asked tightly, unable to face you fully. “And why are you wet?”

“I just…” You spoke, realizing you had no idea how to start. “May like some explanations.”

“I don’t have to explain anything to you.” He spoke simply, clearly trying to shut down the conversation.

“Okay, but… What if I just ask some general questions that have simple answers? Is that okay? I mean, can I ask you a question? Well a couple, but you know what I mean.”

“Can you please stop, just for a second?“ He sighed and pressed his palms against the table. You pursed your lips slightly and drummed your fingers against the wall while you waited for him to say something. “You don’t take ‘no’ for an answer, do you?”

“I don’t usually have to beg like this.” You confessed. You shifted your feet and leaned your shoulders against the wall behind you, allowing your hands to aim webs at the edge of his platform. You pulled yourself over and stood in front of him. “Miguel, please…”

“Ay, dios mío. You sound just like her, too.” He spoke to himself, though the desperation in his voice was hard to miss.

“Listen, if you don’t want me here because whoever I remind you of, that’s not good enough of a reason.” You insisted. Your words finally got him to turn and face you, which really drove home just how big he was. You gave a nervous chuckle and crossed your arms in an attempt of defiance. “I can prove myself against anyone here. I know I can do this!”

“It’s not about whether you’re-“ He began before he leaned down closer. You pulled back and teetered the edge of the platform. “What was that?”

“You got a little close.” You defended with a shrug.

“Not that, cariño.” He shook his head. “Open your mouth.”

“Okay!” You said loudly, trying to push him by his chest. “That’s not how you- Ugh! Whatthehellare-“

Your words became an incomprehensible jumble of syllables when his hand came to your face, fingers pressing gently on your cheeks to keep your lips apart. His pointer finger was free to manipulate your upper lip, exposing one side of your mouth. With a satisfied smirk, he let you go.

“Thought so..” He offered a lazy smirk. “Lemme see your hands.”

“Is this like.. part of the initiation process or something?” You tried to joke as you held up one hand. He took it by your wrist and gave your palm a gentle prod, just missing the trigger for your web shooter. “What are you looking for?”

“You always talk this much?” He mumbled with a small eye roll as he let go of your hand.

“It’s just a question.” You muttered and poured slightly.

He sat back on the edge of a table behind him, allowing for a more even eye line. But even at the new lowered height, he was definitely taller than you.

“How can anyone focus around you?” He said with a shake of his head.

“I can put the mask on, if it helps.” You offered awkwardly, reaching for the side pouch you usually tucked it away in.

Miguel looked back at you and laughed. A seemingly genuine sound that, up until that moment, you weren’t entirely sure was possible.

You took the opportunity to move away from the edge of the platform and stand more in front of him. Your hands rested lazily behind you and you simply looked at him for a minute.

The obvious physical stature was still as intimidating as ever but there was something in his expression. Something haunted, something guilty. However, when his eyes met yours, there was a softness there. A certain longing.

How does anyone focus around you? You thought as you took in his features for a little longer.

“You always stare like that when you’re not talking?” His brows raised with a slight smile as his arms crossed over his chest.

“Not usually.” You answered with a shrug of one shoulder in an attempt to ignore the blush creeping across your cheeks. “I take it you didn’t find what you were looking for with my hand, but you didn’t send me away again so maybe that was a good thing… Maybe I can…”

“Go ahead and ask your questions.” He nodded, adding a tired sigh at the end as if to say he was giving in. You thought he was curious as to what you wanted to know.

“What’s the big deal about my teeth?”

“Your teeth..” He chuckled slightly. “Most of the spiders around here don’t have fangs, cariño.”

“Right but why do you care?”

“Cause I have them too.”

“What do yours do?”

“Paralysis. Yours?”

“Dunno.” You confessed. “I’ve never bit anyone. Can I see?”

“No.”

“C’mon!”

“No.”

“Fine.”

You flicked a web at his chest and yanked him to lean forward, earning a small Spanish exclamation from him. You kept hold of the web with one hand and put the other on his shoulder as you leaned in slightly. His eyes darted between yours in slight shock before he broke into a small smile, enough for you to see a moderately more pronounced version of the same teeth in your mouth.

“Woah.” You said quietly as your eyes drifted to where your webs met his suit. “Wait..”

“What is it?” He asked lowly and the tone sent a shiver down your spine.

“Your suit. It’s all tech?”

“Mhmm.”

“That’s so cool.” You breathed with a smile, which faded as you squinted and noticed a falter in the colors. “It’s like a projection, which means if I…” You gave another slight tug on your web and watched the distortion of the colors where your palm was pressed against him. You laughed slightly before looking back at Miguel.

The web suddenly snapped and you stumbled backwards. You looked down and saw the excess still wrapped around your wrist. The tensile strength was much stronger than that so it shouldn’t have betrayed you so suddenly. It had never failed before. Turning your head back to Miguel, you saw the projections from the pads of his fingers.

“You were looking for claws?” Your brows raised as your head jerked towards his hand. “You could’ve asked.”

He simply shrugged.

“Let me ask you something…” He said calmly as he leaned back to his originally sitting position. “Why do you wanna be here so bad?”

“Good girl.” You gestured to yourself. “Sad boy.” You gestured to him and he shook his head with a scoff. You offered a small smile before wandering in a small circle, your back now to Miguel. “We all have this one thing going on.. And it’s always one thing after another, situations and circumstances and miscommunications. Losing people and losing fights, it’s all part of the job but… Honestly, I don’t know why. Maybe I just like the idea of not being alone, of not being the only one.”

You turned back to face him and saw he hadn’t looked away.

“It’d be nice to not be the only one with fangs, either.” You smiled, flashing your pointed teeth.

“You never told me why you’re wet.” He commented after a brief moment of silence.

“Oh.” You laughed nervously. “Funny story.”

You heard the muttered complaints come down the hall at the same time the tingle of another spider person hit your skin. Your eyes went wide when Lyla popped up in front of you, glaring at you with tightly crossed arms. You offered an innocent smile with hands up in surrender.

“Y/N!” Pavitr yelled with a wide grin as he entered the room, Hobie sulking behind him. The boy turned and began patting his friend’s shoulder excitedly. “It worked!”

“What worked?” Miguel turned to you.

“Those two-“ Lyla said angrily as she appeared in front of Miguel and pointed at the two spidermen. “-set of a fire alarm in the training center.”

“And that was your idea?” He looked to you again.

“Nah, mate.” Hobie answered casually. “Was all me.”

“You?” He shouted and then wiped a hand down his face. “I don’t- I can’t deal with you right now. Both of you, go help mop up and dry the training center. Just- Get out of my sight.”

Hobie offered you a salute before sauntering out, Pavitr quick on his heels. You smiled to yourself before you hopped off the platform, shooting a quick web to help control your descent.

“Where are you going?” Miguel called after you, causing your stride to pause. You spun to face him with a playful smile.

“To help clean up.. They did it so I could talk to you, after all.” You shrugged.

“Come back here when you’re done.” He tossed a device your way, the same device the other spiders had around their wrists.

“Gonna miss me already?” You teased as you fit it to your wrist, replacing the temporary band you were given.

“Always, cariño.”

You realized you hadn’t found out anything in regards to who you looked like from Miguel’s past, but with the confirmation that you’d come back, you figured you’d find out in time.

[tj-dragonblade]

[FIC] Past the Wit of Man (or, Bottom's Dream)

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: M Word Count: 3657 Tags: comedy, attempted comedy, comedy devolving into feels, identity reveal, sex worker Hob Gadling, advancing my Men In Lingerie agenda, long-haired Hob Gadling agenda, stretching timelines like taffy, Desire and Dream get along AU, but Desire is not actively in this, Dead Boy Detectives comic spoilers mentioned, miscommunication, Dream of the Endless finally uses his words, happy ending

Notes: Kudos props and huge thanks to everyone in the Mr Sadman discord who creatively interpreted a snippet I posted of something else and launched the whole idea of Hob working for a supernatural escort service; this would not exist without y'all and your beautiful brainstorming. ❤️

This fills the August monthly @dreamlingbingo prompt Identity Reveal, replacing square A2 (creature: Veela) on my bingo card

Summary: Hob is nicely settled in a new career and a new identity and does not expect to see his Stranger until 2089. The universe, apparently, has other ideas.

On AO3

~ "Your client is Dream of the Endless. He is extremely ancient and extremely powerful, an underpinning concept of the universe. Absolutely terrible about loosening up and letting himself relax."

"Don't think I'd be much good at relaxing if I was an underpinning concept of the universe either," Hob jokes, opening the profile that the Agency rep has just airdropped to his phone and thumbing through it.

The rep, a foppish vampire with curly white hair and impeccable fashion sense, arches one elegant eyebrow at him. "Apparently his most recent girlfriend dumped him quite harshly and his sibling has arranged this booking on his behalf; he's—and I am quoting here—'absolutely incompetent at managing his own happiness'."

"He knows he's been booked though, right? I'm not gonna catch the fallout because no one told him what kind of appointment this is?" It's only happened once, a prank played on a shy ace nixie by her well-meaning but ill-informed friends; all the same, Hob does not care to repeat the experience—particularly with someone potentially more dangerous.

"He is very much aware and in agreement, yes. We promised him our top companion." The rep dimples at Hob, a smile of saccharine sincerity that shows only the barest hint of fang. "And that's you, sweet Nick."

"And that's me," Hob agrees matter-of-factly, frowning at his phone, then turning it to show his guest. "No photo?"

The rep glances at the screen and makes a commiserative noise. "Oh, yes. Unfortunate, that. Cameras have a very hard time with this fellow, something to do with his general relationship to reality." His tone takes on a simpering air of great melodrama. "We were forced to use an artist's rendition instead! Tragic, really; it doesn't do him justice."

"Huh," Hob says, turning his phone back and studying the cartoony hand-drawn image. Guy looks like he's got some sort of steampunk insect for a head, dark and bolt-laden and bug-eyed, with a trunk that's strongly reminiscent of a disembodied spine. "Dream of the Endless, you said? Looks more like a bloody nightmare."

The rep gives an exaggerated roll of his shoulders, as if shrugging off his delivery duty now that it's done, and turns to leave. "Well whatever the case, an Endless is far above the average client, darling. Give him your best."

"'Course." Hob grins. "That's why you brought the assignment to me, after all."

"Just so." The Agency rep gives a lazy wave in parting and Hob closes the door, still scrolling through the profile as he makes his way to the kitchen.

"Dozens of titles and names", he murmurs, glancing through the list of them. "King of Dreams and Nightmares, alright. Contains the entire collective unconscious of every living being in. Every…universe…?" He shakes his head. "Has never taken a vacation ever. Bested Lucifer Morningstar and oversaw the reassignment of Hell—okay, wow. Billions of years old." He whistles, a long sound of awed disbelief. "Maybe I throw in a free massage for this guy; sounds like he could use it."

He shakes his head again, pockets his phone, carries on with getting breakfast together.

Bug-headed workaholic foundational concept of the universe. Won't be the weirdest client he's ever serviced.

~

It's been ten years since his stranger showed up late for their meeting and smiled so openly and named him friend. That had been their longest meeting yet, lasting all afternoon and on into the evening and it wasn't until the Inn had started closing up for the night that they wound down. His stranger had spoken briefly of the missed appointment in 1989, making clear that something at least mildly traumatic had kept him away and also that he did not wish to elaborate, and Hob had let it go. There was so much to tell of his own century past, his friend remarking with interest on a great many of his stories, and it was enough. His stranger, his friend, had come back, and they'd had a lovely long meeting. Perhaps in 2089 he would be comfortable sharing more of his own story, but even if not, Hob didn't mind. He was confident once more in the friendship he'd declared back in 1889 and willing to coax it out bit by bit, meeting by meeting. He had all the time in the world, after all.

Within a year of that meeting he'd wrapped up his teaching career, arranged for ownership of the New Inn to transfer to a 'relative' in the States who'd keep it running the next few decades, and started searching for a new career for his next identity.

He stumbled quite by accident into the broader supernatural world after being stalked by two dead teenagers helping that de Rais creep who wanted to steal his immortality. It all turned out fine in the end but opened Hob's eyes to exactly how much the supernatural had integrated into the modern world around him. And once old Hettie clued him in to the existence of a certain Service Agency catering to supernatural clients, his next career path was all but decided. What was he going to do, not seize the opportunity for fantastical sexual exploration when presented with it? Life was for living! Werewolves, vampires, sirens and fae and merfolk, the occasional ghost and even an extra-terrestrial or two; scales, feathers, tentacles, knots—Hob's shown them all a good time and earned a stellar reputation among the Agency's clientele. He doesn't plan to do it forever, but he enjoys exploring new avenues and stretching his limits and 'Nick Bottom' is the perfect persona to let him do so.

And now sweet high-priced in-demand Nick has been booked to rebound-fuck an uptight concept in humanoid form who looks like something straight out of a nightmare.

Hob can't wait to completely take this guy apart one orgasm at a time until he's a boneless puddle of satiation and send him home afterwards a brand new man.

Concept. Entity. Whatever.

~

The booking is scheduled for the following day and when the time comes, Hob is fresh and clean and set up in the Agency's most lavish suite. He's let his hair grow the last few years, sports a proper Hozier-like mane at this point, is wearing it down for this appointment. His beard is several weeks old, trimmed to artfully-scruffy perfection and well-groomed. He's lounging on the bed in a short open silk robe and a pair of lace panties that hug his hips and leave most of both arse cheeks exposed, a popular outfit in his repertoire sure to please the classiest of clients with the most discerning taste. Both pieces are a matching vibrant cobalt blue that complements his skin tone beautifully. He's wondering what fucking a concept is like, idly massaging his dick now and then to keep it primed, when finally there's a peculiar displacement of air and then a figure in dark robes with a weird spine-trunked bug-eyed head is standing in the middle of the suite. He's taller than Hob and inhumanly rail-thin; the robes plunge deep from the neckline, displaying milk-white skin without a hint of chest hair and clavicles that beg to be nibbled on. He's in profile, angled slightly away, and Hob has the distinct sense that this is a deliberate pose meant to make an impression, to instill awe and possibly fear in him.

So Dream of the Endless has a flair for drama, got it.

"Hello," Hob greets in his best breathless-and-sultry tone, rising from the bed to approach his client. He layers in a suitable amount of awe, pitching his voice toward 'smitten' with a subtle ring of sincerity to support it. "Oh, wow. You must be Dream of the Endless; I'm so delighted to get to meet you! I'll be taking care of you today; you can call me Nick."

The guy, the concept, Dream of the Endless, he goes stock-still as Hob speaks, and it's like the air in the room pauses with him. He turns, slowly, until Hob is face to face with his…oh, possibly that's a mask, then; the bug-eyed lenses are somewhat translucent in the light though Hob still can't see beneath them.

"There has been some mistake." The voice is deep and distorted through the helmet-mask, bone-rattling in an almost-pleasant way and, somehow, somewhat…familiar? "I was meant to be meeting with 'Nick Bottom'." The quotes around the name are audible.

"That's me!" Hob says, raking a hand back through his hair and shaking it to settle around his shoulders attractively, flashing his most charming smile. "At your service, love, whatever you need. I'm here to make sure you have a very good time, and—"

"Hob Gadling."

That draws him up short. He's currently Robyn Gadrin for tax-paying purposes in the outside world, but the Agency wouldn't give out his current identity let alone his true name, so how—

Hob's brain is babbling insistently about the note of familiarity in that voice and he finally lights on why as Dream of the Endless reaches up to remove his helmet.

Hob finds himself staring at the slightly-more-than-human-but-still-very-familiar face of his Stranger, his centennial touchstone, his friend.

Everything about his reality tips a little bit sideways, dominoes crashing one after the other in his brain until all that's left is that awful ringing alarm tone that features in emergency broadcast alerts on American telly.

Between them, the silence stretches awkwardly, until finally Hob breaks it, the first thing that comes to his tongue spilling out while his poor brain is still rebooting.

"Six-hundred some-odd bloody years, and this is how I learn your name?!"

~

It is five minutes later. Hob is sitting on the side of the plush bed in his short silk robe and lace panties, clutching a bottled water and seriously considering availing himself of the bar in the next room because his emotions are all over the place. His Stranger—Dream of the Endless, apparently—is seated next to him. His eyes are not the blue that Hob is used to, are fully black with actual stars winking in and out of them; it's gorgeous but uncanny. He's currently not looking at Hob, has got the weird bug-spine helmet gripped tightly in both hands. Which are still so pretty, Hob can't help noticing, his fingers longer and more spindly than normal, splayed wide around the curve of the helm, nails painted black. Or maybe not painted, maybe they just are black.

Pretty, regardless.

Not a helpful thought at this juncture.

It's not like he'd thought his Stranger was actually human, obviously, and okay yes the possibility of meeting up with him via this particular career choice had crossed his mind once or twice, might've featured in a private fantasy or two; but also he'd never seriously imagined it because it felt so entirely implausible that his prim and lofty Stranger would ever engage in something so mundane. So casual.

Apparently, Hob was wrong about that.

He's not sure how to feel about it, either.

The smooth inhumanly-pale chest on display in the plunging vee of those artfully-draped robes is also not helping anything.

His Stranger—Dream— moves slightly, glances at him with those starry eyes, flexes those pretty fingers on the helmet. "I will. Arrange. For another. To take your place, Hob, you need not—"

"Now hold on a minute," Hob interrupts, sudden direction presenting itself for his floundering emotions to flow. "What do you mean, 'arrange for another'? What's wrong with me?"

Dream, his name is Dream of the Endless, Dream looks perplexed. "Our. History—"

"Oh yes, our illustrious storied history wherein we have met all of seven times before now and, may I remind you, you took offense to my suggestion that we might be friends until you'd had time to digest it properly, yes."

"Eight."

"Eight?"

"I visited your dream, before undertaking a daunting journey from my realm to another. We shared wine. You gave a most thoughtful toast."

"I. Okay." He remembers that dream, yes; he remembers the wine that followed him out of it, and now with the knowledge that his Stranger is apparently King of all dreams and nightmares suddenly it all makes brand new sense. But he will process that later. "Eight. Still not a factor in my ability to do my job."

Mostly. It is his Stranger, after all, and it's not like he hasn't ever wanted—

"Sex would be. Awkward," Dream insists, and Hob loses it, never mind he'd half-thought the same thing until a second ago; Dream saying it makes him refute the assertion with everything he's got.

"You dare," he says, setting aside his water.

Dream boggles at him, cosmic eyes wide, mouth slightly parted.

"You. DARE. To disdain my professional services just because we know each other?!"

"Hob— "

"No. No, your booking was very clear that you were to have the very best, and that. Is. Me. So you will not be re-booking with another companion on the grounds that our acquaintance makes it 'awkward'; if you mean to partake of the services you've hired you will partake of them with me."

"My sibling."

"What."

"My sibling hired your services. Did they know—" He's half talking to himself and Hob sighs, forcefully pulling the conversation back on track.

"Yes, right; your sibling booked you and here you are. Did you want to get laid today?"

"You need not be so crude about it."

"Forgive me. Of course. Did you come here hoping to have a sensual skillful sexual experience with a stranger intent on your pleasure with no judgments or expectations placed upon you in return?" He makes a valiant effort to rein in his sarcasm. "Because I can still provide that. Minus the bit where we're not strangers."

Dream looks positively miserable, a sodden wet cat of a man in sex-appeal robes hunched on the edge of the decadently-plush bed, and there is certainly an understandable element of embarrassment to the situation but Dream is taking it so seriously. Hob is not surprised, exactly, but christ—he's more than willing to follow through never mind any feelings he may or may not want to admit to, and Dream is the one who'd agreed to the booking in the first place. You'd think he could handle this hiccup with a little more grace.

"It was my intent to. Do, as you say," Dream says at last, and Hob sighs.

"Is that still what you want, then? I promise I'll take good care of you." He's actually really warming up to the idea, not that he was cold to it to begin with. It's his Stranger after all. He's been willing to say yes for centuries. "They really did book you the best, and I would love to show you how well-earned my reputation is—"

"Hob—" Dream sounds pained, gives an artfully-dramatic shake of his head. "My wants are. Manageable. If no one else is available. I cannot simply engage with you so frivolously—"

Hob leaps up from the bed, stalks a frustrated few steps away and whirls back, spreads his arms. "Am I not appealing to you, Dream of the Endless?" He tosses his head, shakes his hair back, gestures at the blue silk and lace that he knows looks absolutely spectacular on him. "Would you like me to change clothes? I have a dozen more ensembles I'd be happy to put on if you'd rather peel me out of one of those. Would the Prince of Stories prefer roleplay? Golden-age pirate, biker bad boy, Mr. Darcy or Elizabeth, cowboy, librarian, Starfleet officer—I'll dress however you like." He's fired up, he's…it feels like anger but it's more like alarm; he is absolutely not about to let a colleague fuck HIS Stranger if Dream's looking to unwind. Not with all the thoughts he's entertained the last couple centuries, not when Dream is looking so entirely miserable about the whole experience. Hob wiggles his bare toes in the plush carpet, forcing a deep breath; he is jealous and possessive and protective all at once and has no idea how to safely navigate this storm to get Dream what he wants without pissing him off.

"Your…clothing becomes you greatly, Hob." He's sneaking a glance as he says it, like he's not allowed to look but can't help it. "Your clothing is not at issue."

"Then what is?" Hob rakes a hand back through his hair, frustration fizzling, careening toward concern. "If you're truly that put off by me, I'll let it go. But you're here, for sex, which you did say you wanted; this is my job and I'm good at it and you clearly need—" Someone to take care of you, he'd nearly said, and while Dream has been giving him so much leeway in this conversation he thinks that might be one straw too much for this particular camel's back.

Nice to know he appreciates Hob's hairy chest and his dick in blue lace, though.

Dream levels him with a look that almost puts him right back to 1889, and Hob has half a second to start panicking before Dream closes his eyes, draws himself up, sets his bloody weird helmet on the bedside table with a soft leathery clunk. When he opens his eyes again, they are resolute, resigned, the eyes of a man headed for the gallows despite the stars winking hopelessly in their depths.

"I do not wish to be intimate with you. When you view it as simply a job. I. Would like—but not. If it is a transaction. If I am merely a client."

Oh. Oh.

Oh shit, really?

Impossible.

Really?

"You want. You want it to mean something?" Hob is embarassed at how small his voice comes out.

Dream closes his eyes, something like shame written all over his beautiful otherworldly-pale face. "I had thought. At our fifth meeting. That perhaps there was the possibility of. Attraction, between us." He opens his night-sky eyes again, meets Hob's resolutely. "Had we not been interrupted…" He shakes his head. "I pondered the idea until next we met, anticipating the possibility of. Seeing, where we might have come to. But you named what was between us friendship, you named me lonely; I perceived your words as mockery and acted accordingly. I spent the next century with a surplus of time to wander my own thoughts. They turned to you, Hob Gadling, with regularity. As I expressed when last we met, I regret leaving our previous meeting so abruptly, so harshly. Your friendship is of great value to me. I am content to let it remain friendship, in the interest of keeping it. But I am unwilling to engage with you, who named me 'friend', as I would a lover when I have yet to fully bury the wish. That you might have been my lover in truth."

Hob is desperately trying to keep from bluescreening again and while he's focused on that, his mouth runs along without him. "You never even gave me a name, but you wanted us to be lovers?"

"I am. Aware, of how foolish my wishes—"

"No, oh no. Dream. Love." He absolutely cannot let him think that. "All you ever had to do was ask."

Dream looks at him, starry eyes full of misery with the faintest spark of hope underneath, glimmering with unshed tears. "I. Could not—"

"That was then. Water under the bridge. What about now."

Dream shivers, his more-than-human face wary and pleading and resigned all at once and the last of the fight drains out of Hob. He approaches gently, until he is directly in front of Dream on the edge of the bed again; he half straddles Dream's lap with one foot still on the floor and a bare knee sunk on the mattress beside him, threads both hands into Dream's hair behind his lovely ears, tips his pale face up.

"Ask me now. Please."

Dream's hand settles above his bent knee, a gentle, tentative touch; his eyelashes flutter, and the sound that leaves him steals Hob's breath. That hand travels softly around to grip the back of Hob's thigh, slides hesitantly higher, and then it's Hob making the helpless noise as Dream's fingertips card beautifully through his leg hair, run up beneath the short robe. Dream's spindly black-nailed hand caresses up over his exposed arse cheek, squeezes, and all the while Dream's beguiling uncanny eyes are fixed on him, wet and wondering, full of blossoming hope.

"Hob Gadling." His voice is hushed, almost reverent. "I should like to have you, as my lover. If you are amenable." His face is tipped up, so close between Hob's hands, and Hob.

Hob's shaking. He's actually trembling, pent up, a little scared; daring, as he leans down and his hair falls around them both, hoping—

He brushes his lips to Dream's.

He kisses his Stranger, his friend, his touchstone.

And Dream of the Endless, who is all of those things, kisses him back.

It's nothing like he might have imagined, and ten times as wonderful, and over before he realizes he's ended it.

"Do you mean it." His voice is breathless, the words spoken directly against Dream's mouth. It's a stupid question, in light of the entire conversation gone before and the hand still on his arse, but he can't help asking. This entire turn of events is just too good to be true.

"Yes."

But true it is, apparently, and Hob's heart soars.

"Then. Dream of the Endless. My Stranger. My friend." He presses soft kisses to those plush pink lips between each moniker, dizzy that he's allowed. "Let me add another title to the list, darling. Take me to bed; the suite is ours 'til tomorrow. Let me learn how you would have me. Let me show you how I would treat you. And let me, at long last, name you mine."

= Started: 8/21/24 Drafted: 8/27/24 Posted: 8/30/24

If you're looking for a spicier take on this concept, @delta-pavonis has you covered: Dossier 54392 - please, give it a read, it's delicious.

(and here, have a post-script-y epilogue-exchange of sorts that did not quite fit:)

= "You chose to name yourself Nick Bottom?"

"What better name for a callboy to the supernatural than the bloke who got unwittingly embroiled in a fae lovers' spat and ultimately survived the entire encounter unscathed? Feels pretty relevant to me. Empowering, a bit?"

"Nick Bottom was less 'empowered' than simply lucky, perhaps."

"Perhaps. I'll not turn my nose up at good luck, either. But a name like Bottom in this business is also too good a pun to pass up, and I figure old Shaxberd would approve."

"I believe he would, indeed."

"The irony being that fully half of my clients want me to top them, heh."

"I do not wish to speak of your clients while you are in bed with me."

"Got better uses for my mouth, have you?"

"Other sounds I would prefer to hear from it, yes."

"Fair enough. Why don't you tell me what you want, Mr. Sandman, and see if I can make your dreams come true."

"Must you be so cliché?"

"You love my clich—mmph—"

"Stop. Talking."

"Yes love."

(Dream will tell him about commissioning A Midsummer Night's Dream at some other time 💖)

= Nick Bottom's lines from A Midsummer Night's Dream that lent themselves to the title: I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was and also The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream: it shall be called Bottom's Dream

[venus-haze]

My Destruction Is an Hour Late (Homelander x Reader)

Summary: As a nameless, faceless administrative assistant, you never expected any members of The Seven to give you the time of day. In your year or so of working at Vought, Homelander’s taken a particular liking to you, always seeking you out to help him with whatever tasks or projects he can conjure up to take up as much of your time as possible. When you’re not available to help him after hours since you have a date planned, his interest in you proves to be far more than professional.

Note: Reader is a woman but no other descriptors are used. First time writing for Homelander so I hope it’s at least okay! Y/N naming convention isn’t used in this, Homelander only refers to you by pet names. This takes place between seasons 1 and 2. On the shorter side of what I usually write, but a lot happens in this. Title comes from one of my favorite lines from Buddy’s Rendezvous by Father John Misty. Do not interact if you are under 18 or if you post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: Homelander is a warning. Suspected murder, age gap (Homelander is in his 40s while the reader is 20s/30s), emotional manipulation, some dubcon which involves explicit depictions of food play and mommy kink. Do not interact if you are under 18.

Being part of the corporate machine wasn’t exactly what you’d dreamed of when you were a little girl, but working for Vought softened the blow. You could see the look in people’s eyes when you told them who your employer was, one of the first things strangers learned about you. Interest and envy punctuated every question, but what everyone wanted to know was ‘Have you ever met any of The Seven?’

You had, and you weren’t sure whether it was a good or bad thing that in your drive to keep the best paying job you’d ever had in an overpriced city like New York, you earned a reputation of reliability, which meant extra assignments but the overtime pay to go with it. One supe in particular was the source of most of your after hours work. Needless to say, he wasn’t pleased about the singular occasion when you were unavailable. 

“I’m so sorry, sir,” you said. “I can’t tonight. I blocked off my time this evening on my calendar.”

“Yes, I saw that, but what could you possibly be doing that you can’t help me with this? You’re my go-to! I thought you were reliable, but this is—“

“I have a date,” you said softly. 

His jaw clenched, and you could’ve sworn you saw a flash of red in his eyes for a brief moment as he glared at you. He couldn’t have been that angry that you wouldn’t stay late to help him, not when there were dozens of other low-level Vought employees around. You couldn’t accept jealousy as a possible motivation, perhaps possessiveness, you’d heard of his odd relationship with Madelyn Stilwell, who was killed a little over a month after Vought hired you. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” you repeated weakly. “I can help tomorrow.”

He scoffed, clearly expecting you to offer to cancel your date to help him instead. Vought was one of the highest paying employers in the city, and you’d heard from your acquaintances in the HR department that the average job posting got well over 2,000 applicants on the low end. It wasn't uncommon for employees to work late nights here and there, but it seemed like so much of your time was consumed by Homelander. You’d foolishly volunteered to help him with something not long after you’d been hired, and as he said, you’d become his go-to. He intimidated you, but at times you found he could be almost sweet when it was just the two of you.

In all honesty, your social life had suffered immensely since you began working at Vought, and some of your friends had stopped the pretense of asking if you were free when they were planning to hang out, and you’d only become aware of the plans when you saw the Instagram stories after the fact. Restaurants, concerts, weekend trips—that used to be you. In a fit of loneliness and desperation one of the few nights you didn’t arrive back at your apartment and practically collapse asleep, you’d opened all of the dating apps you hadn’t touched in months, and quickly arranged a dinner date at your place with a nice enough guy named Jesse. 

You sunk into your desk chair, an expensive ergonomic one he specifically had Ashley order for you because you’d complained of back pain once. Returning to your assignment at hand, you tried to ignore the eyes on you for declining Homelander’s request. At least five o’clock came sooner rather than later, and you rushed to gather your things, wanting to get out of the building as quickly as possible to avoid any further confrontations.

It was odd leaving Vought Tower when it was still light out. You’d almost gotten used to leaving for work and coming home in the dark. The train back to your apartment was unusually crowded, a consequence of actually leaving at rush hour. Jesse would be over at seven, leaving you just an hour and a half when you got back home to cook and get ready. You’d decided on lasagna, a dish easy to make but equally easy to impress with. 

Multitasking dinner and fixing up your hair and makeup probably wasn’t the best idea you’d ever had, but before working at Vought, you loved to entertain. It’d been so long, though, you’d forgotten how involved it was. Despite nearly spilling pasta sauce on your simple yet classic black dress, you were a bit relieved when Jesse seemed to be running a few minutes late–until a few minutes turned into far more.

7:14 ‘If you need directions, let me know!’

7:36 ‘Hey, is everything okay?’

7:53 ‘Are you seriously ghosting me?’

At a few minutes past eight, you angrily typed a simple ‘Fuck you’ when a knock at the door startled you, and you nearly pressed send when you flinched. You had half a mind not to answer. Who the hell did he think he was showing up an hour late? Another impatient, more forceful knock echoed through your apartment and you rose to your feet, throwing your phone aside on the couch and storming over to the front door. 

Opening it, you expected to see your less than punctual date in your doorway. Instead, the man at your door looked extremely out of place in your modest apartment building.

“Homelander?”

“Sorry I’m late,” he said. “Is that lasagna I smell? Yummy.”

“I—what are you doing here? Not that I’m not glad to see you, but—“

A drop of blood rolled from one of his gloved hands and onto the floor in the hallway. Your mind immediately raced to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he’d just apprehended some violent criminal. Although, in that case, he’d return to the tower right away and report the incident for the crime analytics team.

“I was just in the area and thought I’d stop by,” he said casually, as if he regularly came over to your place unannounced.

You nodded, moving out of the way for him to enter. “Of course, um, is everything okay?”

Vought kept all employee information in a database, and you were sure he had access to it and found your address that way. Still, it didn’t make any sense. You weren’t important on the Vought totem pole, and you didn’t feel like you and Homelander were all that close. Though, it seemed he knew far more about you than you could have anticipated.

The more you considered it, though, the timing, the convenience of his arrival in the absence of your date, not to mention the literal blood on his hands—you looked at him, wide-eyed at the man who just stepped foot in your home, not wanting to believe the worst but knowing it’d be dishonest otherwise.

Homelander grinned, his pearly white canines glistening like fangs beneath the soft lighting you’d carefully set up in your living room. “Now, why are you looking at me like I’m the big bad wolf?”

Your lip trembled. “It’s nothing.”

“Perfect! Then let’s eat,” he announced jovially. “I’m sure you’ve been waiting long enough.”

“Sure, make yourself at home,” you said.

You went into the kitchen to retrieve the lasagna from the oven, which you’d kept at a low temperature to keep the dish warm but not overcook. Grabbing fresh basil from the fridge, you garnished the pasta with a few leaves. Suddenly lasagna seemed like a stupid choice. Jesse probably would have appreciated it, but Homelander was used to food cooked by Vought’s staff of professional chefs. It was too simple, even if you had made the sauce yourself.

He glanced around at the decor in your apartment while you busied yourself in the kitchen. A framed print of Lauren Bacall and Humphrey Bogart on your wall, a well-worn copy of Pride and Prejudice among the books stacked on your coffee table, assorted candles glowing softly in your dim apartment, “You’re quite the romantic, aren’t you?”

You could feel your face heat up at his correct observation, nodding bashfully as you set the tray of lasagna on the table. It didn’t help that in your excitement for the evening, you’d made a ‘first date playlist’ consisting of Elvis, Sinatra, Simone, and some other older artists that played softly from the speaker you had set on the counter. It wasn’t like you had expected Jesse to be the one, but you wanted to indulge yourself.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I am too, really,” he said, his voice oddly assuring, as if he weren’t saying it just to humor you. “Not many of us hopeless romantics around anymore.”

He had taken off his gloves since you’d gone into the kitchen, laying them neatly next to his plate. You ignored the small droplets of blood that had pooled on the table, focusing on making sure the serving of lasagna didn’t collapse into an unsightly mess on his plate. At least luck was on your side in that respect, as you nearly sighed in relief at the nice presentation. You were a bit less careful with your own serving before sitting down across from him.

Having Homelander eat your food felt more nerve-wracking than if Gordon Ramsay were over, it wasn’t like the latter could laser your kitchen table in half if he thought it was horrible. 

“Goddamn, this is delicious. What’s that I taste in here?” He sounded genuine, not patronizing as you almost expected. Maybe he just didn’t eat lasagna very often.

“I seasoned the ricotta,” you said.

He snapped his fingers. “That’s it! I didn’t know you cook like this.”

“I love to cook, I just haven’t had much time recently.”

“Interesting what you learn about people outside of work.” He grimaced a bit when he took a sip of wine. That was on you and your tendency to buy cheap alcohol. You could stomach the subpar taste for the sake of the buzz, but as far as you knew, Homelander couldn’t get drunk, so there wasn’t even that benefit.

“I can get you something else to drink. I’m so sorry,” you said. “I have water, iced tea, I think some soda, too.”

He looked at your fridge and huffed, displeased. “You have half a bottle of flat Coke. I’ll take the tea.”

You could’ve given A-Train a run for his money with how fast you raced into the kitchen to pour Homelander a glass of iced tea and bring it back to him.

“Did you find someone to help you with that thing you mentioned earlier?” you asked as you handed him the drink.

He shook his head, waving his hand dismissively. “No, like you said, it can wait until tomorrow.”

You hummed in response, biting back a comment about how it didn’t seem like it just a few hours ago. Instead, you sat back down and focused on finishing the lasagna on your plate. Suddenly it seemed like far too much, but you powered through the rest of the meal you’d worked so hard to make as Homelander led most of the conversation, while you gave short responses, hoping he’d get the hint at how uncomfortable you were. If he did, he certainly didn’t care.

“So, what’s for dessert?” he asked when you collected the dirty plates from the table.

“Ice cream,” you answered. “I’ll get yours first.”

“Nonsense, we can share,” he said.

You merely nodded, disappearing into the kitchen to pull the small carton of vanilla ice cream from your freezer. The bowls in your cupboard seemed too pedestrian to serve Homelander in, until you remembered the plastic, diner-style ice cream cups you’d bought not long after you moved into your apartment. Carefully scooping the dessert into the cup, you were pleased with how professional it looked.

Ice cream and spoon in hand, you set both in front of Homelander, who looked from the treat to you. “Ooh, vanilla, such an under-appreciated flavor, don’t you think?” 

“Yeah,” you answered, unwilling to admit you’d only bought it because it was on sale, and you had left over chocolate syrup from when you were on your brief home cafe kick.

You yelped when he pulled you onto his lap, bracing yourself by placing your hands on his chest. He seemed pleased at your reaction, smiling as he took a spoonful of ice cream and held it in front of your mouth. 

“Go on, sweetheart,” he said.

You leaned in, opening your mouth and allowing him to feed the dessert to you. His smile widened when you swallowed.

“Okay, my turn,” he said cheerfully, ignoring the way your hand shook as you scooped up a generous amount of ice cream and put the spoon in his mouth.

The moan he let out as he sucked the ice cream off of the spoon was nothing short of sinful, and you felt ashamed that it stirred something in you. Sure, you found Homelander attractive and had a brief crush on him before coming to terms with the fact that it’d never happen, but this was just bizarre. 

The odd ritual continued for another few agonizing minutes, and it was almost like he was going out of his way to see how much you would put up with before you’d protest or challenge him. You told yourself it was because you wanted to keep your job, and you were definitely afraid of him, but a small part of you that you tried to push deep into the recesses of your mind was starting to enjoy it.

“You know, I’m having a great time. We should do this more often,” he said, finally setting aside the half-empty cup.

You gulped. “Yeah, if you want to.”

“Do you not want to?”

“It’s not that, I just–I was expecting someone else tonight.”

“Right. Jesse,” he said, spitting the name like venom. 

You’d never told Homelander your date’s name in the brief conversation you’d had with him about it back at the tower. There was no way he couldn’t hear your heart racing. If you didn’t calm down, you were sure your dinner was going to make an unwelcome reappearance.

“So, what was the plan after the romantic candle lit dinner? Just a kiss goodnight, or were you going to let him fuck you?” he asked, his voice flat as he pinned you in place with nothing more than a cold stare.

You balked at his wording. Not that you hadn’t heard him curse before, it was a shock in and of itself the first time he dropped the f-bomb in front of you. He’d never been so directly crass toward you, though. “I-I don’t—“

“You don’t put out on the first date?” he finished. “Really make ‘em work for it, huh?”

“I just don’t want to be that intimate with someone I don’t know well,” you answered, shifting uncomfortably in his lap.

“Good thing you know me like the back of your hand, right?”

“Mhm,” you hummed absentmindedly.

His fingers brushed one of the slinky spaghetti straps of your black dress, the caress reminding you of how easily he could break you if he wanted to. You'd seen him lift cars with his bare hands and not even break a sweat. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, then to the crook of your neck, then your cheek, until finally he captured your lips in a kiss that left you dizzy. You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath until he forced your mouth open with his tongue. 

Tangling your fingers in his hair in an attempt to steady yourself only encouraged him. 

He pulled you closer so you were fully straddling him, and you knew despite the force with which he held your hips in place, he was holding back. You nearly choked on your own spit, or perhaps it was a mix of yours and his at this point. He was already pushing it with how much force you could handle, and he was holding back. 

When he finally pulled away, you looked at him, glassy-eyed and lips surely in the process of bruising. You could feel his hardening cock through his suit as it pressed against your thighs. He stared at you, intense and uncomfortable for a few moments before his gaze wandered right next to your ass. He picked up the cup of melted ice cream with one hand, and tore open the front of your dress with the other, as if it were nothing more than tissue paper. 

“You dress like such a little prude at work, but this–fuck,” he muttered, almost to himself. 

Before you could respond, he poured some of the melted ice cream over your chest, and you gasped at the sensation of the cool liquid making contact with your skin. He watched, mesmerized as it rolled down your breasts, a droplet of vanilla hanging from one of your exposed nipples. He dipped his head, licking it gently before taking your breast in his mouth. 

You whimpered as his teeth harshly grazed your nipple, needy and insatiable as he lapped up the sticky ice cream that’d begun to dry on your chest. 

“Fuck, mommy,” he whined against your skin, throwing you for one hell of a loop.

He poured the rest of the vanilla ice cream on your chest, some of it landing on your already ruined dress. Throwing the cup aside without a second thought, he brought his attention to your other breast which he’d simply been groping until then. You nearly jumped when he grabbed your hand, threading your fingers through his hair. Oh god, he wanted you to pull him closer.

Hesitantly, you pushed his face against your breast, his moan practically vibrating through you. You kept your hand in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp as he relentlessly sucked and licked your breasts. The stimulation was almost too intense to be pleasurable, but the wetness between your legs said otherwise. You couldn’t hide that from a man like Homelander, your gut twisting at the realization he could probably smell your arousal.

He was fully hard now, and with how rough he was getting, you could tell he was close. Biting your sensitive lip, you slipped your hand between your bodies, rubbing his hard on through his suit. 

“Oh fuck, mommy, don’t stop,” he moaned.

It felt almost wrong, seeing the most powerful superhero in the world so vulnerable, but you knew better. Despite the facade of submissiveness, he was in control. 

“Are-are you close, baby?” you asked, hoping if you played the part, the less time you’d be subject to his troubling fetish.

“Yes,” he whined. “God, I’m–”

He squeezed your breast when he came, and if you weren’t sure it’d be bruised in the morning before, that had made you certain. You gasped in pain, tears rolling down your cheeks which he wiped away in his post-orgasm haze.

“You did so good. You did so fucking good, just like I knew you would,” he praised. 

He picked you up like you were nothing, and in a way, you were nothing. Your body was already pushed to limits you’d never experienced before, and the night was far from over, as you’d find three hours and a broken box spring later. You weren’t sure at what point you’d fallen asleep–or maybe passed out was more like it–but when you awoke the next morning well past nine o’clock, your body was almost too sore to move as quickly as you needed it to.

“Good morning, babe,” Homelander greeted as you shuffled into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as if he owned the place.

“Homelander, I’m going to be late—“

“No you’re not. I already called in for you, let ‘em know you’re taking a sick day. We can keep the little white lie between us,” he said, with a mischievous smile and a wink.

“Oh,” was all you managed as you sat at the table, a wrapped breakfast sandwich and cup of coffee from the bagel shop you stopped in every morning was sitting neatly at your place. “You picked up breakfast?”

“It’s the least I can do after you made dinner last night. By the way, the people over there wanted me to tell you congrats when I let them know the good news.”

“Good news?”

“Your promotion,” he said, as if it were obvious. “You’ll be reporting directly to me from now on, take out all of the bureaucratic bullshit between us.”

“Thank you,” you said, voice shaky and uncertain.

He pursed his lips. “I’d expect a little more fucking enthusiasm, but we can work on that.”

“You’re right, I’m just still a little groggy is all,” you said, forcing a smile on your tired face. “Thank you, honey. I appreciate it.”

“There we go,” he said, his quick mood shift almost startling you as he leaned down to give you a kiss. “You know I’m always looking out for you, right, babe?”

You glanced at the dried blood on the other side of the table, where he’d been sitting the previous night. Before you could think too much about it, you widened the fake smile you were giving him. “Of course I do.”

[beybaldes]

my first, my last, my everything

summer sleepover masterlist

roy kent x gn!reader

summary : “i could be your family” requested by the loml @onceuponaoneshotfanfic <33

content warning : readers family are a little mean because they are moving away from home, set pre-ted lasso era.

an : what a cute prompt :(((( domestic roy is something so personal to me :(((( title is based on the song of the same name by barry white !!

It was well known by anyone that had even heard of him that Roy Kent was ‘one tough cookie’ (as Ted had called him in a interview once when he first came to Richmond), and the sentiment had seemed to stick. But back when Roy first asked you out, you knew you were in for a world of romance.

Based on his ‘I don’t like anyone or anything’ aesthetic alone, you figured he’d be a secret softie and the worlds most hopeless romantic - and you’d been totally right. The evening of your first date, he’d shown up with 2 dozen red roses, kept his hand on your thigh the entire car ride, opened every door for you, pulled out every chair for you, and complimented you at every opportunity. When he walked you back to your door, after a night of being a perfect gentleman, he gave you the most searing and passionate kiss of your life, leaving without another word.

After spending half an hour sat in bed debating if his silence after the kiss was his way of letting you down gently, you searched to see if there was any meaning behind the 2 dozen red roses he’d given you.

The traditional romantic message of 24 roses is that of complete devotion, or “I am yours.”

You had no doubt you’d been seeing Roy Kent for a date, and getting kissed by him like that, again.

4 years later, almost each and every day of it spent together, Roy asks you if you’re willing to move across the country with him if the bid from Chelsea goes through and he gets transferred. When he asks, head hung low and his hands in tight fists, you can tell he expects you to say no. Expects you to explain that while you love him, and you’ve loved these last 4 years, that you can’t - won’t - leave Sunderland. He is ready for this to be the biggest heartbreak of his young life and have it ruin every other partner for him.

You say yes in a heartbeat, and seal it with a kiss just a searing as the one he gave you after your first date.

The move down south is long and tiring, but so worth it. You’re closer to Roy’s mum and sister, he gets to play for his childhood team, your work seamlessly transferred you to it’s sister company, and you were living in a beautiful house with the love of your life (who had an incredibly sexy shaggy mullet going on). Life couldn’t have been better.

Except for the fact that your family hadn’t stopped bombarding you with text messages about your move all week. You still had boxes left to unpack and they were already making you regret your decision. Not the decision of moving in with Roy, you’d go fucking anywhere with Roy, but they made it so hard to allow yourself to feel like you’d made the right choice when they were constantly telling you you hadn’t.

Every single one of them was telling you Roy would leave you sooner or later, for some model, footballer, actress or one of the spice girls. One of your uncles even had a bet going with one of his mates from the pub that Roy would fuck all five before then end of his career. To say it made you feel like shit would be an understatement.

“Sunshine, I’m home.” Roy shouted from the front door, kicking it closed behind him and then kicking his shoes off. He’s been doing press about the transfer all day, and he feels terrible having left you in the new house all alone to unpack, but he knows it’s just part of the move, there’s ultimately nothing he can do about it. Still, the only thing he wants to do before he has to go out for another full day of press tomorrow is curl up in your arms, have you run your fingers through his hair, and whisper sweet nothings in his ear about the new life the two of you are going to build together in London. Instead he is met with what seems like a cold and empty house. “Babe? You here?”

You’re sprawled on the couch Roy had insisted was way too big, but looked small now in the middle of the gigantic living room, lazily covered in a throw blanket and only wearing one of Roy’s Sunderland shirts. Even though you’d heard him come in, you didn’t have the strength to call out to him, especially not when your phone was still frantically buzzing against the coffee table every 10 seconds.

“Sunshine? What are you doing in here?” Roy places something down on the kitchen counter and you can hear it thanks to the main rooms open plan, and you can tell he’s getting closer to you because you can hear the soft padding of his feet against the wooden floor. “You okay?”

Even though he wants nothing more then for him to crawl into your arms, he knows you need it more then he does right now. So, before you can resist him, he pulls you into his arms, sitting the two of you upright on the settee with you in his lap, his hand in your hair. “What’s up, buttercup?”

“Nothing Roy-o, just tired. Missed you.” You hid your head in the crook of his neck, hoping that if you burrowed deep enough into his mix of warmth and aftershave, you could hide from the constant buzzing of your phone. “It’s a big house, I feel so small without you here to share it.”

“Give me a week, sunshine, then I can be here all day every day until preseason. And then we’ll be on a pretty similar work schedule.” Roy pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, ghosting a kiss against your temple and the another against the shell of your ear. “It’s going to be perfect. You. Me. Here. It’s all going to work out, sunshine.”

For a moment, you believed Roy and it felt like everything was going to be okay, that you’d made that right choice, and that you and Roy were taking the first step towards the rest of your lives. Then your phone buzzed.

“Fucking hell, babe, you got a fan club or what?” When you didn’t laugh, Roy’s concern only grew, leaning forward and picking up your phone to see what all the commotion was. As he scrolled through message after message from family member after family member, his brow grew tense, and a scowl settled on his face. “What a fucking joke.”

“Roy.”

“No, seriously, they can say all they want about me. I don’t give a fuck. I never have. But about you?” Roy scoffed, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you with him as he leant against the back of the sofa. “You’re fucking related to them and this is how they’re talking to you? It’s a fucking joke.”

“They’re my family, Roy-o, they’re just trying to look out for me, that’s all.” One of your hands moved to run up Roy’s chest, tracing around the embroidered material of the Chelsea badge right over his heart. God, did he look good in blue.

“Some fucking family, to treat you like that.” Roy ran a hand over his forehead, pushing his curls of out his eyes. You loved his hair like this, grown out and curly like in the pictures you’d seen of him as a kid. Maybe one day you’d convince him to push it out of his eyes with a headband. He’d look sexy in a headband. “I could be your family.”

Roy’s hand cupped your jaw, turning your head slowly to face him. When your eyes finally met his, he pressed a soft and long kiss to your lips. You melted into it, the stress of the week and of the messages from your family melting away under Roy’s loving touch. “You’re already my family, Roy. It’s like you said, me, you, here. Besides, you have been since you wormed your way into my heart on our first date with those 2 dozen roses.”

“Funny you’d say that.” Roy whispered, nuzzling his nose against yours, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips then pulling away with a smirk. “Thought the new house could do with some greenery.”

As you turned to look at the kitchen counter, you saw what you could only assume was 2 dozen roses already in vases. It must have been what Roy brought home with him, and suddenly you wished you’d been feeling happier and could’ve appreciated them more when he first walked in the door.

“The traditional romantic message of 24 roses is that of complete devotion, or “I am yours.”” You repeated under your breath, a warm smile brightening your whole face. Roy’s eyes widened, as though he hadn’t necessary expected you to know the meaning behind 2 dozen roses, but he loved you even more for it.

“I am yours.” Roy repeated, voice filled with complete and utter earnest. “And one day I’m going to put a ring in your finger to prove it.”

an : Mwah!!!! Love you guys thank you for reading so far <333

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

chapter xviii - gust & flame

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Eris Vanserra has been a prisoner in his own home since the day he was born. He has done what he had to in order to survive and protect the few he loves. And he is playing the long game. Waiting, waiting, and waiting for the right time to make his move, to usurp his wicked father and become High Lord of Autumn Court. But things become even more complicated when a human girl drops into his life. Perhaps Eris can wait no longer to take his throne.

Word Count: 5,000+

masterlist

The next week consisted of a new routine. 

Y/N would wake up to breakfast being politely brought into her room – despite insisting she could make her own way into the kitchens and save the servants the hassle.

When she emerged from her chambers, there was always at least two hounds waiting outside for Y/N. They followed her around the property, acting as both her companions and guard dogs. The servants and guards around the Forest House seemed shocked to find their High Lord’s blood hounds being pleasant and loyal to someone other than Eris. But Y/N ignored their stares. 

After breakfast, Y/N would train with the Weapons Master of Autumn Court, who did not take it easy on her just because she was his High Lord’s mate.

Though he did manage to compliment Y/N on the first day for the previous training she clearly had been given. But for some reason, Y/N stopped herself from saying she was a Valkyrie. 

The blood hounds would sit and watch Y/N train. And if she ever got knocked off her feet, they would growl warningly at her assailant. She tried to tell them it was OK, earning her a sad whine from them.

After training, Y/N would go to the main library of the Forest House – because apparently there were nearly a dozen. And there Y/N would research mating bonds, as well as the histories of Autumn Court. 

Y/N had asked Lucien to show the library to her. He had quirked an eyebrow at the question, but asked for no further information. And Y/N made sure to memorize the route so she wouldn’t be forced to expose her new habit to any of the servants. Though Y/N doubted that there were many secrets about her in a royal household. 

It had been just over a week of this routine when breakfast wasn’t delivered to her room.

Y/N was relieved, thinking that the servants had finally listened to her request and realized that she could find her own breakfast in the kitchens. 

But as Y/N opened the room to her bedchambers, she jumped when there was a small female standing in front of her, looking up with an innocent gaze. 

She bowed to Y/N, which felt entirely unnecessary. “Pardon the surprise, Lady Y/N. But Lady Leonora hoped you would join her for breakfast this morning.” Then the servant looked over Y/N's shoulder right before a loud thunder struck. “Since the rain will mean you have no training for today.” 

Y/N blinked. She had been so delighted with the servants not waiting on her hand-and-foot that she hadn’t even noticed it was raining when she woke up. 

Was it really a request from Lady of Autumn? Or was it simply the polite way to tell Y/N to do as she said?

“Right. Yes,” Y/N finally sighed. “You will show me the way?”

“Of course, Lady Y/N.” 

She had to stop herself from wincing at the second use of the incorrect title. 

“You needn’t call me 'Lady',” Y/N told her softly as they walked through the winding halls of the Forest House. “I am of no noble blood. Just Y/N is fine.” 

The servant somehow seemed to expect such a comment and smiled up at her. “But you are the High Lord’s mate. It does not matter where you come from. Even without your connection to our High Lord, you are a hero to most here. Calling you Lady Y/N is the least we could do in return for what you have done for Autumn Court.” 

Y/N was taken aback by her words.

Most run from her when they see or hear of her witchcraft. It made them fear and distrust her. But fae were strange beings; they only ever seem enamored with her gifts. 

They reached the chambers of Lady Autumn much quicker than Y/N would’ve expected. With how close her own rooms were to hers, she was surprised she hadn’t run into her yet. 

The servant gestured to the door, making it clear that she was going to remain in the hall. “She is expecting your arrival. Please.” 

Y/N didn’t understand why she suddenly felt so nervous. 

It was obvious both Eris and Lucien loved their mother dearly – and were utterly protective of her. But that didn’t prepare Y/N for the type of female Leonora actually was.

Perhaps the centuries of being forced into a marriage with Beron had made her cold and brutal. 

But how could such a thing be when Eris and Lucien had both been nothing but kind to her? Surely that kindness came from her. 

When Y/N walked in, Leonora immediately rushed to her with a warm smile. 

“Y/N, thank you for joining me. I am grateful of the rain, otherwise I would never be able to steal you away from your training. Eris says its quite important to you.” 

“T-Thank you for inviting me,” Y/N managed to say. Though it came out almost like a question she was so out of her element. 

“I have wanted to come see you and ask how you were acclimating…but Eris is so worried about you being overwhelmed here. I did not want to add to it.” 

“Oh,” Y/N blurted out. “I mean, you are not overwhelming me at all, Lady Autumn.” 

Leonora tried not to laugh at the title. “Please, none of that. I am Leonora. In fact, I am no longer the Lady of Autumn.” 

“Aren’t you still the dowager Lady of Autumn?” 

Y/N truly didn’t know. If it was the mortal realm and Leonora had once been Queen, she would’ve become the Dowager Queen.

But everything was a bit different in the fae realm. 

Leonora smirked. “If I’m being honest, I don’t really care for titles. I never did. Now, I am simply the mother of the new High Lord.” 

Y/N kept waiting to offend, but Leonora seemed to not take anything too seriously. At least not in this moment. 

Leonora guided Y/N to what appeared to be her own small living room. “Now, Eris said you prefer coffee in the morning, saving tea for nighttime.”

Y/N had to hide her smirk at the idea that Eris talked about her so much to his mother that such a little detail of her personality would get passed to Leonora. 

Then Y/N took in Leonora’s dress. There were no greens or reds or rich browns of the Autumn Court to be seen in her clothes.

No, instead she wore mostly black.

Was she in mourning? Or had this place been her prison for so long that she felt sickened by its uniform? 

Servants came out with a silver trey filled with teacups, a kettle, milk, and sugar. But once they set it down on the coffee table before the two ladies, they disappeared entirely. 

Leonora gave Y/N a sad but considerate look. “Is there something I can do to make you more comfortable, Y/N?”

Her face got hot with embarrassment. “No! No, sorry! I mean, you must e-excuse me. I…I get very…umm…overwhelmed in such settings. I was never taught any sort of…e-etiquette.” 

Leonora immediately knew what Y/N was trying to say and gave her a warm smile before she reached over to place on a hand on hers. “If you ask me, such decorum is a waste of time and effort. Coffee still goes to the same place, no matter how you drink it.” 

As if proving her point, Leonora quickly poured herself her own coffee, purposely making it louder and ruder than a polite Lady would. 

“Y/N, I didn’t bring you here as some test or to interrogate you. I was just…Well, I was only hoping I could get to know you.” 

Suddenly a window flew open, and the wind rushed into the room. It was gentle, not disrupting anything in the room. It simply blew around Y/N’s face, fluttering her hair. 

Y/N finally seemed to relax and allowed herself to believe Leonora’s claims. 

Leonora slowly started to ask her personal questions – nothing controversial, and absolutely nothing even so much has hinting at her mating bond with Eris.

Leonora seemed fascinated by Y/N being a witch and asked many things about her craft and abilities. Not once did she make Y/N feel like some sort of freak or monster. 

It became easier and easier to talk to her. 

Now Y/N didn’t know why she expected Leonora to be so stiff and cold. She was the opposite: welcoming, warm, and understanding. 

A couple hours had gone by of them just chatting, getting to know one another. 

And it had made Y/N feel brave. 

“Why do you stay here?” She whispered softly when they found a moment of silence, watching Leonora’s face carefully. 

Leonora’s brow furrowed with confusion. 

Y/N continued, “Why do you not go to him?”

Leonora nodded slowly, somehow knowing exactly who ‘him’ was. “Eris told me you had a way of knowing things…”

Then she gave her a sad grin. “I fear it is much more complicated than that.” 

“Do you no longer love him?” Y/N’s eyes widened, realizing what she blurted out. “I apologize. I am…not good at keeping to my own business.” 

“I do,” Leonora surprisingly answered. “Love him still, that is.” She frowned and her eyes stared into nothingness as she got lost in her own mind and heart. “But much has happened. There is so much between us. Beron’s death did not just suddenly rid of us of the centuries we spent apart.” 

Y/N gave her a sympathetic look. “He loves you still. It’s so strong that it’s all they tell me about him.” She grasped Leonora’s hand. “He’s waited for you all this time…what’s a little bit more? But you should only go to him when you are ready.” 

Suddenly, there was a knock at the entrance of the chambers. 

A servant came out of nowhere to answer it and immediately stepped aside to let them in. 

A male servant entered and bowed to them. 

“Pardon the intrusion. The High Lord wishes to see you.” 

“Of course,” Leonora nodded and stood. 

The servant cleared his throat awkwardly. “The High Lord has actually requested both of you, Lady of Autumn. Lady Y/N is to join us, as well.”

The two females shared a look. 

“It will be quite alright, dear.” Leonora told Y/N with a reassuring smile. 

––

Y/N and Leonora were escorted to the great hall, where Eris stood around a giant round table with his advisors. 

The High Lord did a double take as soon as he spotted Y/N’s entrance. 

The servant bowed his head to Eris. “Lady of Autumn and Lady Y/N, High Lord. As requested.” 

Eris nodded his thanks. 

All of his advisors stared at Y/N. Apparently they were used to Leonora, and almost ignored her presence entirely after bowing their greetings. 

Y/N shifted her weight nervously, but kept her head high.

Was she finally being punished for helping usurp Beron Vanserra? Despite helping crown Eris, was there consequences for her to face?

She didn't know the laws of the fae realm.

An advisor cleared his throat and looked to Eris calmly. “I believe it would be best for you to explain, High Lord.”

Eris glared at his table. “Would it? Because I have made it clear what my position is on the matter.”

That was when Y/N noticed Eris was clutching a letter in his hand – quite violently by the look of his white knuckled grip. 

Eris sighed and looked at only Y/N, stepping away from the table to get closer to her. 

“The other High Lords of Prythian have finally decided to acknowledge Beron’s demise. When word reached that two Night Court Illyrians and Lady Death had come to our aid, it has made them…concerned.” 

Y/N narrowed her gaze. “It was Rhysand who sent them…why does he not answer for their involvement?”

“He will be questioned, as well. There will be a meeting of the High Lords in two day’s time. But they have…requested that you also attend.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped slightly. “Me?” She looked around at the advisors. “But how…how do they even know of my existence?” 

Eris frowned. “Those still loyal to Beron made sure to spread the news of the witch who cursed Autumn Court.” Then he hesitated before adding, “But the news of my mate has also become…known.” 

Of course it has. That was why she was stuck here, wasn’t it? 

Eris stepped closer to Y/N with a look of determination. “You do not have to go.” 

But Y/N swallowed and glanced at his advisors. Clearly they didn’t agree with that option. 

“I-I have a choice?” She asked so only he and Leonora could hear. 

“Of course you do,” Eris answered, as if it were obvious.

“But…I don’t understand what they want from me.” 

Eris frowned. “They wish to question you about the night of the usurping. The other High Lords are weary about Rhysand’s aid. They see it as a move for him to take over other courts – or at least an effort to force other High Lords to give him something in return.” 

Y/N’s eyes darkened. “You mean they wish to interrogate me. They don’t trust my role in all this.” 

“I will not allow it. I will be there the entire time, as will my mother.” Then he snapped a warning glare at his advisors before once again adding, “But the choice remains your own.” 

Y/N took in a deep breath. “I will attend the meeting.” 

—🍁—🍁—🍁—

The meeting of the High Lords took place in Summer Court, which Y/N learned still had somewhat of a contentious relationship with Night Court after they stole a forbidden book. 

Y/N had asked the wind to tell her everything it could to prepare for her for this meeting. If she was going to be interrogated – even if Eris promised to prevent such a thing – she wanted to know any secret she could about these High Lords. 

Leonora’s handmaidens had woken Y/N up, insisting on helping her get ready. They did her hair and makeup. Then they put her into a dress that was the colors of Autumn Court, but clearly a lighter fabric to deal with the warm and beachy climate of Summer Court. 

But when Y/N met Leonora in the hallway, she was surprised to find the former High Lady in a gold and white gown. She'd been expecting another conservative black dress. But now it was clear that Leonora was sending a message to her past lover. 

Leonora smirked, knowing exactly what Y/N had figured out. “I think there is no longer a reason for subtly, do you not agree?”

Y/N gave a shy smile and nodded in agreement. 

“Come. Eris is waiting for us in the great hall.”

When the two females arrived, Eris did a double take at Y/N’s appearance. 

“Did we do well, my son?” Leonora asked him teasingly. 

Eris tried to glare at his mother, but it mostly looked like amusement. 

He cleared his throat and stepped towards them, offering his hands to winnow them. “Let us get this over with, shall we?” 

Y/N couldn’t decide which she hated more: winnowing or flying. But the winnowing left her feeling rather disoriented. 

They had arrived at an entryway of a palace. Y/N assumed it was the home of High Lord Tarquin – or one of his homes.

But then she heard the waves and the squeaks of seagulls. And she turned to see one of the most beautiful views she’d ever laid eyes on. 

Immediately she felt a sheen of sweat cover her skin. Yes, the views of the ocean were beautiful. But Y/N was not meant for such a warm climate. Already, she wished to return to the brisk air of Autumn.

“High Lord Eris, Consort Leonora, and Lady Y/N,” the servant greeted them with a bow. “The other High Lords have just arrived. Please, follow me.” 

Y/N was surprised to find Eris’ arm extended for her to take. Leonora walked behind them, clearly trying to show that she was no longer the Lady of Autumn. 

There were seats set in a circle in what appeared to be an open room to the elements, surrounded by high, white arches that offered a perfect view of the ocean. Y/N could still perfectly hear the soft crashing of the waves. 

Y/N hated that they were the last to arrive. She was sure Eris did it as some sort of power move. But it meant that everyone stared at their arrival. 

She knew that Rhysand, Feyre, Cassian, Azriel, and Nesta would all be here. But Y/N couldn’t find it in herself to even so much as look at them. 

Tarquin stood at their approach and gestured to the only empty seat left in the circle. “Thank you for coming, Eris.” 

With a snap of his finger, Eris magically placed an identical chair next to his own and gestured for Y/N to sit in it. Leonora seemed to have no intention of sitting and stood behind them, gently propping her hand on the edge of her sons chair. 

To Y/N, it was a polite gesture for Eris. But really it was a show of irritation that Y/N was not important enough to receive her own place in the circle – despite being a High Lord’s mate. 

Y/N noticed that Tamlin – Feyre’s ex-lover – had even managed to show up. Apparently he had failed over and over again to tend to his duties as High Lord of Spring. 

“Let us not waste time,” Tarquin began, eyeing Eris closely. “You can understand how the recent events in Autumn have made the rest of us weary.” 

“I am not the first High Lord to usurp the throne,” Eris answered boredly. “I was not aware all of you were so allegiant to Beron.” 

“It is not your usurping. It is how you involved the Night Court in your attack against your own father,” Thesan commented. 

“I did not ask for their aid,” Eris answered instantly. “They came to save Y/N, not help with my effort to take the throne.” 

“Ahh, yes. The witch,” Helion hummed with amusement.

The High Lord of Day Court looked Y/N up and down, as if it would solve her mystery for him. 

“We came to Y/N’s aid because she is our friend and a fellow Valkyrie,” Nesta chimed in coldly. “Her gifts sent us a warning that she was in danger, that Beron had captured her.” 

“To cross Court lines to aid in foreign affairs is a risky one at best,” Tarquin answered. 

“Perhaps we should ask the witch of what happened to her that night,” Helion pushed with subtle amusement. 

“The witch has a name,” Eris hissed. “And it would be wise of you to use it.”

Helion’s gaze snapped to Leonora, only for a second. Then he nodded his head. “My apologies. Y/N, would you step forward please?" 

Y/N’s teeth ground together as she stood from her chair and stepped into the circle. 

“Why don’t you tell us about your journey?” Helion requested gently. 

“I lived on my own in the Mortal Realm…until I was captured by fae – amongst other women and children. It had become clear that we were being traded to wealthy fae, who wished to use humans as they pleased. I will let all of your imaginations come up with what exactly that meant. I attacked my captors as we passed through Autumn Court, and told the others to run for their lives. That is when…when Eris found me.” 

With the wave of his hand, Eris magically dropped a pile of papers beside Y/N. 

“What is this?” Rhysand spoke for the first time. 

Eris tilted his head. “Documents, proving that Beron was aiding wealthy merchants from the Continent in trading mortals as slaves. They were being brought to the Middle to be sold to the highest bidder and transported across the sea. Y/N was not the first to be taken – but she was the first to escape and save the rest of the victims in her party.” 

“Everyone here knows this is not the only evil Beron has released onto Prythian,” Eris added for good measure. 

Helion's gaze darkened as it once again flickered to Leonora. Surely he was imagining all the abuse his past lover had endured by the hands of Beron Vanserra.

He was the first to break the tense silence. “No one here believes that Beron was a just and rightful ruler.”

Once again, his gaze snapped momentarily to Leonora. 

“Rhysand aided my cause because I asked him to protect my mate with his life," Eris announced. "Night Court was the safest place for her."

“Why not go to another Court?” Kallias, the High Lord of Winter, asked. 

“The Archeron sisters were once mortals. My brother is an emissary there. The Night Court was well aware of my plans to usurp Beron. They understood more than anyone why I could not leave my mate just anywhere to be protected from my father.” 

“And what did you promise Rhysand in return?” Kallias urged. 

“Autumn’s loyalty and aid – when it would be mine to give,” Eris announced. “But Night Court did not request this of me, I offered it freely.” Eris shifted in his seat awkwardly. “I was a male…desperate to protect my mate.” 

It took all of Y/N’s strength not to turn around to see Eris’ face as he spoke of what he did to protect her. She could only stare at the ground, her hands clasped behind her back. 

“Y/N became one of us,” Feyre spoke for the first time. “We would have protected any innocent with or without the promise of Autumn’s loyalty.”

“And are you innocent?” Tamlin also broke his silence, glaring at Y/N as if she had personality offended him. “You are a witch, after all.” 

But Y/N would not take it. “Careful how you speak to me, High Lord Tamlin.” Her eyes darkened. “Or you risk exposing secrets you wish to keep locked away. I know more of you than you could ever know of me.” 

She couldn’t see it, but Eris grinned at his mate with pride. 

“Y/N is not like the witches we have heard about,” Rhysand chimed in. “She comes from a coven who wished to keep to themselves, only revealing themselves to aid others. That was proven when she risked her life to save our son.” 

“Which was also an attack set by Beron,” Eris noted darkly. 

Feyre and Rhysand sat up straighter.

Azriel and Cassian’s fists tightened at their sides.

Nesta looked…murderous. 

If Beron still lived, Y/N was sure that Nesta would have singlehandedly killed him after hearing such news.

“The slave trade was not Beron’s only evil dealings. He planned on kidnapping Nyx, fearful of the power the child would grow to have. Whether he planned on keeping the child hostage for his own use or selling him to the Continent, I do not know. The assailants were no soldiers of mine, but they were of the Autumn Court.” 

“It would appear it was time for Beron Vanserra’s demise,” Helion declared darkly. 

“It should have happened long ago,” Eris answered back. 

“What power do you possess, Y/N?” Thesan asked with curiosity. “Your coven has hidden themselves rather well. 

Tamlin leaned forward in his seat, eyeing Y/N with suspicion. “The only witches I know of are desperate for power. They will kill whatever innocents they can find, and consume their blood.” 

Y/N had been waiting for such a question – dreading it, actually.

The thing was, she did not even know what she was capable of any longer. A new power had been unleashed inside her. Whether it was during life or death situations only, she did not know. But she feared losing control of it. 

“She is not a subject to be studied!” Eris snapped before Y/N could even think of a response to the question that felt more like an accusation. “Y/N has been through enough, and I will not allow her to be poked and prodded for your own curiosities.” 

Helion also came to her defense and claimed, “She is not the first of her kind. I have met other witches like her in my life. Their hearts are true and they hold no evil.” Then he smirked. “But none were as powerful as it seems you are, Y/N. Curious that the Cauldron chose a mortal witch for a High Lord’s mate.” 

“That is enough discussion of our bond,” Eris interrupted, leaving no room for argument. Then he addressed the circle of High Lords and Ladies. “Are you all content now?” 

“It is clear Night Court has no ploys to take over other courts,” Kallias nodded. “And I for one think Prythian is better off with Beron dead. Leave Eris to handle his court. He has a long journey ahead of him, gaining the favor of his fae.” 

Everyone else nodded in agreement. 

As everyone rose, some started quietly talking amongst themselves. 

Y/N watched as Helion locked eyes with Leonora. It was clear that he wanted to go to to her. He took half a step in her direction, but something made him hesitate. 

She was so distracted with the interaction, that she hadn’t seen her friends of the Night Court – if that’s even what they were to her anymore. Y/N still hadn’t figured it out. 

After Eris insisted he’d promised something in return for them all looking after her, Y/N felt like perhaps she’d been too harsh with assuming they had been using her for their own gain. 

Feyre stepped forward first, with a cautious warmth. “I am glad to see you well after the attack, Y/N.”

Then Y/N suddenly felt a warmth behind her. Eris was right behind her, close enough that she could feel the heat from his body at her back.

He wasn’t going to interrupt or cease the conversation, but he wanted her to know he was there for her. 

“Y/N, you must understand, we never wanted to keep any secrets from you,” Feyre continued. 

“For what it’s worth,” Eris muttered quietly to her. “I forbid them from telling you the truth. I thought things would be easier that way.” 

Y/N nodded slowly. 

Nesta and Cassian looked desperate for her forgiveness. Azriel watched her with a sadness in his gaze that he hid from everyone else quite well. 

“Everyone misses your store,” Cassian chimed in with a gentle smile. “Velaris’ isn’t the same without your witchcraft and medicine.” 

“Velaris isn’t the same without you,” Nesta corrected. 

Y/N took in a deep and shaky breath. “T-T-Thank you for taking me in,” she looked into all their eyes as she said it. “Deep down, I always knew even if Eris hadn’t promised you what he did, you still would have treated me as one of your own.” 

A wave of relief seemed to wash over the five of them. 

“But I wish to stay in Autumn Court,” she continued. “Until it’s safe for me to return to the Mortal Realm, that is.” 

Y/N tried to pretend that she couldn’t feel Eris’ entire body tense at the second part. 

“I hope we can continue to be friends,” she ended softly. 

“Of course, Y/N.” Rhysand answered immediately. “And you are always welcome in Night Court, whenever you wish to visit.” 

Nesta stepped forward. “And perhaps we could…visit you in Autumn.” 

Y/N nodded. But then quickly looked back at Eris for confirmation, as if he would take away such a privilege. 

He simply nodded, as well. 

Nesta hurriedly added. “Gwyn and Emerie said they wish to write to you, as well.”

Y/N grinned. “I would like that very much.”

“Are you keeping up your training?” Cassian asked with a smirk. 

“Of course,” Y/N narrowed her eyes playfully. “Eris has his Weapon’s Master training me every morning. Soon I’ll have mastered the fight strategies of Illyrians, Valkyries, and Autumn Court.” She quirked an eyebrow for good measure. 

“She will be a fearsome thing,” Eris muttered. 

Y/N didn’t expect such a compliment – especially from him and especially in front of such an audience.

Her face got hot from it. 

But when she looked up, Feyre and Cassian all seemed to be trying to hide their amusement. 

“We will send you the rest of your things by the end of the night,” Rhysand told her. 

“Oh, there’s no need. Eris has given me more than enough clothing.”

For some reason, it seemed wrong to take all those fanciful gifts Rhysand had insisted on gifting her after the attack on Nyx. It felt even more wrong to wear such things in a foreign court – and in front of her mate. 

But Eris didn’t seem to think so. “My servants will be waiting for their arrival.” 

Y/N’s brows raised in surprise. “But…if it’s not too much trouble to ask, I’d like my supplies and merchandise from my store.”

“Of course,” Rhysand said with a slight bow of his head. 

Leonora finally stepped toward the group. “Time to go?” She asked her son. 

He nodded. 

When Y/N turned back to her friends, they gave her an encouraging look. 

“We will see you soon,” Feyre insisted.

With that, Eris winnowed the three of them back to Autumn Court. 

Leonora already started to make her way to the dining room, leaving the two of them alone. 

“I really don’t need all those gifts Rhysand gave me,” Y/N insisted hurriedly. “They were beautiful, but they weren’t very…me.”

Eris shrugged. “You can sell them all before returning to the Mortal Realm. Open a new shop without trouble.” 

Y/N couldn’t understand why her heart sunk at his suggestion. Was he really so on board with her leaving and returning to the Mortal Realm? Did he not want her here at all? But that’s what she wanted, right? To be left alone and back in her old life of solitude and secrecy? 

-----

OK. This is quite long. Don't really know how that happened. But let me know what you thought! Everyone be like @pancakefancake

Chapter XIX

[randomshyperson]

What They Will Say About Us - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots

Summary: A love from the past returns, and Wanda gets a second chance to make it right. But some decisions are easier in their concepts than in reality.

Warnings: milf!Wanda angst hours, implied internalized homophobia, hidden making out, attempts to Judaism references, and mentions of past relationships. | Words: 1.727k

A/N-> I blame the movie Disobedience and the song of the title name (by FINNEAS) for this one.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

--//--

It was such a risky idea, honestly.

Wanda had no reason to be in the Synagogue this afternoon, other than her personal motivations of course, which came down to an old friend in town. 

The black sheep returns, she heard, from a good dozen people. It made her stomach turn. Wanda wishes she could have summoned the same courage as you, years before, and left everything behind. Fought her own father like you did and had the minimum of happiness like she imagines you found in New York.

Or at least, Wanda likes to believe so. When she thinks of your adolescents, stolen moments here and there, and how you left without hesitation, she must believe that what was out there was better. It made you happier, at least.

The Synagogue was crowded and it was too risky to look around that much. Wanda felt watched from all sides - whether it was Pietro and Crystal, or Erik and Natalya, she had the impression that all eyes were on her. As if everyone knew how much she wanted to stare at you.

Your presence there was noticed very easily and commented on by everyone. The choice of black clothes, the outrageous jeans for the traditional community, every strand of rebelliously messy hair. 

Everyone looked at you as if you were a crime against everything the faith stood for, but Wanda looked at you as if you were a masterpiece.

The small sarcastic smile as you mumbled Hebrew as you entered, the almost non-existent nod before ignoring your sister's simple request to take the seat next to her and avoid any commotion, your determined steps to the small group standing around having a conversation.

Every inch diminished between you two made Wanda's heart skip a beat.

"Shalom Adonai." You greeted, interrupting whatever conversation was going on between Wanda's family. She tried to disguise how much she was begging for your attention, but you caught every stolen glance, the smile at the corner of her lips getting harder to hide and bringing a warmth underneath her own dress. 

You were embraced by Natalya, tenderly, around the neck. She had always liked you, Wanda remembered. 

"Shalom Adonai, Y/N. It's so good to see you home, child." Said the woman so warmly that you almost felt bad for the lack of manners you were about to present.

"Yes, yes, it is good to be back. Would you guys mind if I talked to Wanda for a second?"

She knew she was blushing, and that it only made her father's disgusted expression worse. But something about the punk-rock attitude made them assume that you might cause a scene if you were denied, and Erik just nodded in agreement. 

You offered Wanda a smile, invading her personal space only to go around her, grabbing her hand in the process. 

She followed you through the halls to an empty room, as she would have followed you to New York if you repeated the invitation.

"Why are you being so shy and quiet?” Your question came on the way, hand in hand with her, when you turned your head for a moment. A tease followed before Wanda could answer. "Aren't you happy to see me?"

She chuckled through her nose, indignant at something so absurd. She had been happy to the point of barely sleeping properly for the past few days since the news that you were in town reached her house, and she longed for a visit that never happened. It was foolish to think that you would come to their parent's home, not when you were revisiting family after so long. But at least in the Synagogue, Wanda found you. Or the other way around.

You stopped walking in a dimly lit room, at the exit of a staircase that no one would pass after the meeting had begun. It was a cramped space that the younger ones used to hide from chores, that you, Wanda, and Pietro had used many times as teenagers.

You challenged her then. You loosened her hand to rummage in your pockets and took out a lighter and a different cigarette, wrapped in silk. It was only to elicit a reaction from the woman in front of you, who widened her eyes as if you were the devil itself and grabbed your hands.

"You can't-"

"I'm just messing with you, Princess." You retorted with an easy smile, shoving the items back into your pocket, and to the end of the other's sanity, your hands moved to hers again before Wanda could pull away completely. "You haven't changed a bit."

Her shaky breath tickled your cheek. 

"You did." She murmurs affectedly, looking at everything but your face, and mostly at your hands together. Your fingers playing with hers. "You cut your hair, and your clothes...it suits you."

You hum distractedly, Wanda has no idea it's because of her perfume. So many years, and she messes with you the same way. Licking your lips, you try to bring clarity to your own thoughts.

"I heard you were getting married." You state then, and Wanda has to look at you, frowning.

"What? How-? I-I-"

You chuckle, taking in every trace of the face you missed so much. "Your mother invited me to the engagement feast." You explain casually. "I dismissed an event, so imagine my surprise when I heard you dumped the guy's ass..."

Wanda bit back a smile, she shouldn't laugh at this. At the shame she had put her family through; the most rebellious act of her entire life, dismissing a rich, Jewish, and proper fiancé. Chosen by god and her parents.

"Sorry for the inconvenience in your schedule." She returns, teasing, her eyes sparkling the way they only get around you.

You smile, interlacing your fingers together and bringing an immediate wave of nervousness to the woman in front of you. The gentle tug lessened the distance.

"I just got through packing up and ran over here." You murmur then, a very sincere and vulnerable look in your eyes suddenly.

Wanda swallows dryly, her heart hammering. "Oh, really?"

Your smile didn't falter, but your eyes did. "Do you remember... what I told you when I left?"

Wanda could hear her heart in her ears. She nodded, and you moved her hands to your waist. She gasped, overwhelmed with the longing for you, with the love she had kept for so many years. Her burning face was hidden in your collarbone, and you chuckled, equally affected, you slipped your arms around her to reassure her.

"I said I'd come back at any second if there was a risk of losing you to anyone, Wands." You whispered against her, even as she confirmed that she remembered. "And here I am. I hope not too late."

She shook her head frantically, drawing another laugh. You were tormenting her after all, how audacious. Wanda grimaced, and brushed her lips against your neck first, enjoying the flinch, before sinking her teeth in your skin.

You whimpered, low against her ear. Wanda licked the bite and sucked until she had a mark and you were soft against her, melting.

"Wanda." You called out, and she pulled away in the same second, only to firm her mouth on yours. 

It was exactly as she remembered it, but even better. You tasted like peppermint candy and coffee, and it was too delicious for Wanda not to squeeze your sides and push you against the wall. 

Your tongue slid into hers until her head spun and her knees buckled. The sermon began downstairs, and the music drowned out any gasping sounds that escaped her lips.

Wanda took advantage of it.

You were out of breath when you let go, and your hair seemed wilder than before. Your hands were dangerously beneath her blouse, gripping her waist directly by the skin. The strong squeeze would be enough to mark, and Wanda would have to be careful about changing clothes at home.

"Run away with me." You gasped suddenly, and Wanda stopped breathing. 

She had a flashback, so many years before, where you were much younger and much more insecure, and she was terrified. And you asked the same question and began to cry as Wanda shook her head in the negative. 

"Detka..." She started uncertainly, not with the same fears as years ago, but with the same cowardice. 

You had changed more than she had, and your eyes were as firm as your tone.

"I have an apartment and a job." You reasoned, your hands releasing her waist to hold her face. "All the stability and security I couldn't give you at 17, I have it now. I got it all so I could be with you, princess. Run away with me, Wanda. Please."

Her eyes burned. "My family would hate me." And you knew it was true, yet you still loved Wanda the same way you did when you were seventeen.

"I would be your family." You assure her, caressing her cheeks tenderly. "And we...we could make a family of our own, too."

Wanda sobbed softly, returning to her original position, her face hidden in your collarbone. You almost began to cry too, but you busied yourself with holding her, smoothing her hair until you had her definitive answer.

"It's a beautiful dream, detka." She whispers against your skin, her arms tightening around you. "The best one there is."

You kissed the top of her head. "Let me make it come true, Wands."

She sobs, and the music there and low ends. Wanda needs to stop crying before someone comes to check, so she does so quickly, wiping away the tears and almost hiding them from you. 

"Reality would tear us apart." She declares, but you deny it with a nod, offering her a sad smile before moving closer to kiss her forehead. Wanda almost tugs you away, but like years ago, she flinches.

You sigh and face her in the eyes. "I wish you would dare to love me as I love you, Wanda."

Her gaze begs for sympathy, but you can't give it to her now. You turn your back on her and leave her alone on the staircase, and it's as if Wanda can hear the memories echoing in that space.

Maybe one day, she will find the courage to follow you.

[tkwrites]

Happy Birthday, Sarah

gif by @gabelandeskog

Title: Happy Birthday, Sarah - Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts (ofc)

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts

Warnings: None. Just some fluff sweet enough to rot your teeth out. 

Summary: Quinn is gone over Sarah’s Birthday. 

Word Count: 1,500

Comments: I don’t really have any, other than this turned out so sweet, and I love it.

If you liked it, please let me know! Your comments and questions inspire me to keep writing! 

Happy Birthday, Sarah

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

“Happy Birthday, Ms. Roberts,” Quinn’s doorman said as he welcomed her into the lobby. 

“Thank you, Reese. How’s your day so far?” 

“Oh, can’t complain. Lots of studying to do today?” 

“Yeah,” she took a deep breath, “I've got a test on Thursday to prep for.” 

“Well, good luck.” 

As she waited for and took the elevator, she wondered how he knew it was her birthday. Perhaps they had some kind of calendar that kept track of their tenants' important dates. When Quinn gave her a key, she had to submit her drivers license and complete a background check, which she thought was wild, but Quinn assured her was routine with the building. Even Petey had to do one when he stayed with Quinn for a week earlier in the season. 

When she scanned into the apartment, it became clear exactly how he knew it was her birthday. A bouquet of flowers sat in the middle of the dining room table. They definitely weren't there when she’d left the night before. Quinn must have had Reese bring them in that morning. 

Tears sprang to her eyes, and she laughed a little as she shook her head. 

The flowers were stunning. Pink peonies in perfect, full bloom. They were in an interesting square vase with some small white and purple flowers and fronds of a velvety looking greenery nestled in among them. They must have cost an enormous amount of money. Peonies weren't in season until later in the year and there had to be at least a dozen and a half in there.

Two small gifts and a card were in front of the chair she usually sat in to do her homework. 

Quinn was certainly trying to make up for the fact that he wasn’t here. 

They’d talked on the phone for a long time the night before as she lay in his bed. He'd sounded genuinely distraught to be missing her birthday. 

She assured him it was just another day, and they would celebrate when he got back. Besides, she was used to missing people on her birthday. 

Now, standing in this enormous apartment, she sighed, wishing he was here. Yes, she was used to missing people, and knew Quinn didn’t necessarily choose to be gone. Still, she would rather give back these beautiful flowers and any gift he may have bought her to have him here. 

At least she had dinner with Travis, Trevor and the kids, and then drinks with her roommates later on. 

She wiped her eyes and picked up the card. Her name was on the envelope in Quinns untidy, cramped handwriting. 

The card was simple. Nothing more than a folded piece of pink cardstock with ‘Happy Birthday’ written on the front in delicate gold calligraphy. 

He’d written in black ink on the inside: Happy Birthday, Sarah!  I hope you have a great day. I wish I could be there, but I’m excited to celebrate with you in a few days. Call me when you get this - Quinn

She wiped her cheeks again, clearing the mascara stains from under her eyes and facetimed him. 

Before she caught more than a brief glimpse of his face, the phone was wrestled out of his hand.

The camera was turned around as he protested, “Hey!”

She had to close her eyes as the picture shook with the ensuing scuffle. 

“Guys! Guys! It’s her!”

Someone finally gained possession and was pointing the phone around the bus. 

All at once, an entire team of hockey players was singing Happy Birthday to her. Some were standing out of their seats belting it out with all their gusto, and others were just singing along, not looking up from their devices. 

Sarah laughed, blinking back a fresh wave of tears. It sucked to have him gone, but this was sweet. 

They ended with a very off key “Yooooou!” and the camera turned back to the front, showing Elias with a teasing, mischievous glint in his eyes, “Happy birthday, Sarah!” he said. “Thanks for making Huggy bearable!” 

Lots of guys around them laughed, and Quinn took the phone back, shoving him out of the picture. 

“I’m sorry about that,” he said, switching the audio to his airpods, “Some of the guys found out it’s your birthday and, well, you saw.” He smiled through the bright blush on his cheeks, “Happy birthday, beautiful.” 

“Thank you so much,” she said, her voice a little wobbly. 

“Happy birthday, beautiful,” Brock mocked over the back of Quinn's seat, forcing his way into frame. 

“Get out of here, dick,” Quinn said, shoving him away. 

She heard someone cackle. 

“I'm sorry about them,” he said, blushing somehow brighter.

Sarah grinned, “it's fine. That was really sweet.” 

The guys had finally gone back to their own conversations. Elias had even moved to the row behind with Brock to give Quinn a bit more privacy. 

“The flowers are so beautiful,” she said. 

“Eunice said Peonies are your favorite.” 

“They are. They're so lovely.” 

“The florist put some other stuff in there. He said they're your birth month flower.” 

“I thought those were daisies.” 

He shrugged.

“Well, whatever they are, they're so beautiful. Thank you.” 

“You're welcome. Did you open your gifts yet?” 

Shaking her head, she propped her phone up against the vase and sat down.

Each gift was wrapped in shiny ocean-like blue paper with the kind of precision that told her someone else did it. Quinn would never have the patience to wrap gifts this tightly. 

One was long and thin while the other was more of a cube. 

She had a sudden, consuming worry that he had bought her jewelry, which seemed too formal for the fact that they hadn't even been dating for six months. 

Hesitation building in her stomach, she asked, “should I open one before the other?” 

“The long one first.” 

She could tell from the look on Quinn’s face that he just wanted her to tear into it, but she took her time, trying to calm her nerves. A flat white box greeted her. As she pulled the paper away and realized what it was, her eyes darted to her phone, where he was watching, smiling expectantly.

“Quinn,” she said, bringing a hand to her mouth, “this is too much.”

He shook his head and held himself back from telling her it wasn’t enough. “I know you have to keep your phone in your bag at the aquarium, so I thought this might help,” he said. “It’s the new one that’s really water resistant so you don’t have to worry about dunking it in the tanks.” 

It was like he knew she’d been lusting after an apple watch since they were released, but couldn’t justify the cost with the risk of water damage that came with her job.

“I know you don’t like the silicone bands, but that was all they had at the store,” he said. He’d tried to give her a silicone bracelet once, and she’d grimaced apologetically as she told him she hated the feel of them on her wrist. “I ordered some different straps, but they haven’t come yet.” 

Behind him, he heard Elias and Brock sniggering. He flipped them off with the hand not holding his phone and they howled with laughter.

When she looked back into the camera, there were tears in her eyes. “Thank you. I wish you were here so I could kiss you.” 

“I wish I was there, too.” 

The other gift was a set of airpods. Quinn insisted they came with the watch as a kind of promotion. She wasn’t totally sure if she believed that or not, but she was thankful all the same. 

“I really don’t even know what to say,” she confessed, “Thank you so much.” 

“You’re welcome. Happy Birthday.” 

They chatted for a few more minutes before the bus arrived, and Quinn had to hang up. 

Unable to help herself, Sarah googled the watch, and gasped when she saw the price tag. The underwater capabilities came with a hefty price increase of nearly three times more than a regular smart watch. 

Quinn! she sent him, This watch was $800! 

When her message came through, Quinn laughed a little. He’d been expecting it. 

Was this more than he’d spent on a gift for someone he’d been dating less than six months in the past? Yes. But things felt different with Sarah. He wasn’t waiting to see if they would work. He’d never felt like this before - like he knew they would be together for a long, long time. That first time he talked to her, it was like finding a sudden, missing puzzle piece in his life, and they had only continued getting better since then. 

Plus, he had the money to solve a problem he knew bothered her, so why not just do it? 

 I’d spend it again to make you happy. 

Happy Birthday, Sarah. 

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[fatuismooches]

Reader is always sitting on dottore’s lap.. but what if dottore say on readers lap instead?I love the idea of reader holding one of the segments while they work just sitting on their lap <3 They will get antsy and flustered but you can easily fix that with a peck!! 😌

Something about being close and up and personal with dotty makes me feel so fuzzy and warm! I want to cup his face, kiss him all over, tell him I love him again and again!!! I just really really love the closeness for dottore :(

This goes for the segments as well because they deserve all the love too. Especially webttore!! Give that man a hug during one of his passion rants, no questions asked just do it.

And when I think of akademiya zandik & reader, I think of so much BECAUSE THAT WAS THE HONEYMOON PHASE!!!!! Just two dorks being in love and defending each other and trusting one another. Imagine reader with zandik after he tells them a bit of his past, his childhood, (A bit OOC but perhaps that could be the first instance where reader sees zandik cry for the first time..?) with reader reassuring him whilst embracing him.

I’d love to come back here and talk more!! Can I please become 🎨 anon? I do have troubles with speaking so I am sorry if this is a bit wonky. :1

There are certain words that you simply do not refer to Il Dottore as. Cute and submissive are two of these words, but you? You use them anyway. Because they are cute and submissive when they're all comfortable (although terribly embarrassed and defensive) in your lap. In the beginning, when you suggest the idea, Dottore and the other segments laugh at you because they think it's an amusing joke but, nope, you're 100% serious. It takes... a lot of perseverance and bothering and begging and pleading but!! Soon you'll have the segments fighting over who gets to sit in your lap, because well... it's comfy and soft and they get to be held by you for hours on end as they do their work... (Prime and Omega are obviously the last to give in, their egos are not handling this embarrassing treatment.) You always wrap your arm around him and ask him about his work! Giving him kisses when he starts to get irritated and working your hands into his shoulders and back... :( You're good at repelling the oncoming stress and headaches in this position.

Webttore's ego literally blows up whenever you show such blatant affection and interest in his rants, like yes please keep indulging because he WON'T stop as long as you keep doing it. You could be on the verge of falling asleep and all you hear is him continuing to tell his stories in the background. He wouldn't even notice at first because he gets very into his storytelling as to how he casually demolished a few dozen camps of enemies but then he realizes you aren't commenting anymore... oh you fell asleep :( all of this was probably too much for you to handle all at once...

HONEYMOON PHASE AKADEMIYA ZANDIK AND YOU... :( ugh you're so right 🎨 anon. That was when times were so much simpler... sure school is a pain but!! It was fun. It was when you two found love. Finding comfort, finding each other. It was when you two could simply be Zandik and [Name], no other titles getting in the way.

Zandik despised opening up about himself, much less his past so, he'd only tell you after like many years, and even then he kept it brief and acted like he didn't care and it didn't affect him, because he didn't want to be pitied, he doesn't want your comfort. And so you don't push the topic, but you know he was hurt by it, hurt by being called a monster since birth, being run out by the people who were supposed to be family. So when he does end up crying about it, you don't say a word, you just hold him even as he tries to cover it up, even as he curses you for being like this, because you love him.

[spideypoolbigbang]

Title: Enchanted to Meet You

Author(s): @mscaptainwinchester

Artist: @gen-syz-art

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Minor Violence, A/B/O dynamics

Word Count: 30k

Posting Date: Friday, October 4

Summary: Peter is an omega who only wants to read his science journals in peace, but his orphaned status means he must marry. He could marry Baron Osborn's son, Harry, but Peter isn't interested. Enter Duke Wade Wilson, werewolf recluse, returning to the ton for the first time in a decade. The rumors color him as a brutal murderer, but Peter only sees a handsome, kind, funny alpha who looks at him like the stars are hung in his eyes. Can the two of them survive the season long enough to find their happily ever after, or will the pressures of societal expectations and the threat of ruin tear them apart before they've begun?

Teaser Excerpt (under the cut):

Peter turned to him as they approached the banister, darting a glance behind him to the open doors to check that they were indeed out of earshot of anyone.

“If you’ve brought me out here to seduce me, I must confess you will need no effort towards success. I am already putty in your hands,” the Duke said, leaning an elbow on the banister.

Peter wasn’t used to the closeness, nor to the attention of an alpha he wasn’t entirely disinterested in. He cleared his throat to try to distract himself. “You certainly know how to give a compliment, Your Grace.”

“Wade, please don’t call me by titles. It only reminds of how few branches there are between me and the king on the family tree. I would like to hear my name from your perfect lips.”

Peter ducked his head slightly, glancing down before looking back up into Wade’s eyes. “If you insist, Wade. Please call me Peter.” He shifted closer, feeling the warmth of Wade’s body all along his own. He momentarily forgot what he’d been meaning to say, too caught in the very blue of Wade’s eyes.

“Am I picking up what I’m meant to be? Because there are at least a dozen eyes on us right now, but I’m finding it very challenging not to pull you close and ruin your reputation, if you know what I mean.” He wiggled his pale brows up and down, making Peter giggle into his hand. He’d never met such an openly flirtatious alpha before. It was turning Peter’s head around and making it difficult to focus on the point.

“I have a proposition for you,” he said, leaning even closer.

“Is it marriage? Because the answer is yes.”

[mediumgayitalian]

“You need to leave.”

The glare the physician levels at him is slower than usual. He takes a moment to process the stiff words Nico directs at him, blinking several times — his normally clear blue eyes look almost cloudy — before huffing and rolling his eyes.

“This is not your House, Your Highness. And further it is not your infirmary. The only one with authority to order someone out would be me.”

Now Nico is the one glaring. That is a lie, and a bold one. He could name at least a dozen people who could order Will out of the infirmary, and he says as much, thankful he wore his heeled boots today so he has an extra inch of height on Will today with which he can stare down his nose disdainfully.

“Feel free to call them, then, Your Highness,” says Will irritably, “but in the meantime, get out.”

The doctor is swaying on his feet. There are bags under his bloodshot eyes, and his hands shake. His normally full, glossy hair is limp and lifeless. He’s as grey as the stone floors. It takes him four full seconds — Nico counts — to react to the retching of one of the dozens of bedridden, green-faced patients, and another four seconds to will himself to move towards them. He doesn’t even bother looking back at Nico before he turns, let alone bowing or even ordering him out one last time. On his fourth step, he stumbles, barely managing to catch himself before sprawling on the ground. His feet drag with every step.

Nico turns around and walks out.

———

“My Lord — a word?”

Immediately after asking, Nico begins to spiral. He is not sure, still, what his place is in House Apollo. He has asked for asylum — Lord Apollo has granted it. Graciously, even, perhaps also fielding tensions from his father. He has provided for Nico suites for high ranks, preserving his title despite his asylum, and seems, on the whole, to be a rather laidback man.

But Nico has read his history books, and has studied politics his whole life. He knows the danger that can rest behind the King’s eyes, know to what extent he is capable. Knows how his pride drives him and offense makes him deadly.

To Nico’s great relief and in credit to the gods, the King only smiles brightly.

“My Prince!” he greets, clapping Nico’s shoulder enthusiastically (so much so that Nico would be sent sprawling, if he had not begun to accustom himself to the…enthusiasm, of House Apollo as a whole). “Please, come sit with me, no need for excessive formality.”

Nico inclines his head, taking the chair to Apollo’s left — he would never dare the right, aware enough to be wary of the implications. As soon as he sits, though, the carefully-practiced script he planned vanishes from his mind, and the minutes stretch, silent and uncomfortable.

“Your physician overworks himself.”

He blurts it just as Apollo opens his mouth, and then immediately wants to crawl under the table. He is thankful, not for the first time, for the length of his hair, knowing it hides his flaming ears.

What a foolish thing to say! Apollo must think he has no decorum.

Luckily, Apollo only laughs; a great, loud sound, one Nico can only describe as merry.

“Who, William? You needn’t worry yourself, dear boy. He’s been married to his work since he was a child, long before he was old enough to stitch a suture. I’ve not seen him outside of the East wing in months, and still it will be a few more before I catch even a glimpse. He is more reclusive than he realizes.” Apollo frowns. “Why have you brought him up, son of Hades? Has he offended you?”

Yes. He is always offending me. I believe ‘offensive’ may very well be the most natural setting for him — how, again, is he a doctor?

Nico swallows the thoughts down, and instead assures, “No, no, of course not.” His hands twitch. It takes another long silence for him to admit, “I only mean that I saw him this morning, and he appeared — well, frankly, he looks ill, My Lord. Sickly.”

Apollo hums, glancing down at a stack of letters in front of him. He must have been working before Nico interrupted him.

“I confess that I haven’t spoken with the doctor in some time, but I trust his judgement, my boy. He knows his craft. If he is unwell, he will handle himself. It is sickness’ season, after all. He’s likely only tired.”

Nico bites back a response. Clearly, the King does not understand the gravity of the situation. Does he not realize how dire things may be for him if his head physician falls deeply, truly ill? Nico is loathe to admit it, but Will is among the most talented men Nico has ever met. Whatever skill Nico knows in his swordfighting, Will knows tenfold in his sciences. The kind of healing he provided for Nico should not be possible. He’s beginning to understand that Will does not care what is and isn’t possible.

Including, he thinks, what is within his own limits.

“Very well, My Lord,” he says, bowing his head. “Thank you for your time.”

Apollo waves him off good-naturedly, returning to his letters. Nico leaves with a deeper frown on his face than when he came in.

———

The next time he braves the infirmary, it’s significantly less crowded.

It’s been a couple days. (Not that he’d intended. He’d walked by the infirmary doors no less than twenty-two times after speaking with King Apollo, at a complete loss for what to say, genuinely considering writing to his friend at House Athena to get her strategic input. In the end he’d refrained.)

By now, most of the beds are once again empty. A few ill people rest, either sleeping or entertaining themselves quietly. The general air of panic and chaos seems to have finally ceased as the sick season approaches its end.

Will, tending to an older patient — one of the senior maids, if Nico is not mistaken, who frowns at him in worry — sways on his feet.

“William,” he calls, all trepidation immediately fleeing his mind. Alarm bells ring in his head. When Will spares him a glance, he looks ghastly.

“Doctor William,” he corrects belatedly. There’s none of the usual annoyance in his voice, absolutely no bite. He doesn’t even roll his eyes.

Nico’s throat goes dry.

“Will,” murmurs the patient, placing a wrinkled hand on his arm. “Darling, you look unwell. Perhaps you should rest.”

Will hesitates, and for a moment Nico’s heart swells with hope. He won’t listen to Nico, but this woman acts familiar with him. Maybe she can convince him to sit, to breathe, to sleep.

(In the back of his mind, a voice screams at Nico to turn around and walk away. What is he doing? Will is the closest thing Nico has ever had to an enemy. He is stubborn, he thinks he knows everything, he kind of does know everything, he has horrible manners, he smiles at everyone, all the time, except Nico, whom he huffs at and rolls his eyes and yet touches very gently, even when Nico wrenches himself away. He is confusing and odd and yes, reclusive, even moreso than Nico. He constantly addresses Nico with the kind of sarcasm and disregard for status that would get him killed in stricter Houses — stricter houses like the one from which Nico hails. He is the pinnacle of impertinence.)

(And, yet.)

“Will.” It is genuinely worrying how slowly the physician responds. Nico’s heart begins to pound, and when Will lurches suddenly forward Nico darts out to steady him. The maid watches them with wide eyes. “Will, when was the last time you rested?”

Will doesn’t respond. His grip on Nico’s arm is worryingly loose, and for someone his height, he rests lightly against Nico’s frame. His eyes are glassy and far away.

“Will? William, answer me.”

“‘M — fine,” Will slurs, and then his eyes roll back into his head, and he slumps into Nico’s arms.

———

Thankfully, some of the colour comes back to Will’s face as he sleeps.

Nico had ended up putting him down on one of the infirmary cots. He hadn’t know what else to do — he has no idea where Will resides, whether it’s inside the palace or out, or whether King Apollo was being serious and he really does live somewhere in the infirmary. He had no idea whom even he could ask. As it was, he was barely able to lay Will down in a cot with the maid’s help, weakened with illness as she was — Will was limp as a ragdoll. For a moment, even, Nico was terrified he was dead. He certainly looked it.

In the thirty some hours (not that Nico has been counting), some colour has returned to his cheeks. His breathing is less laborious, quick, tiny puffing snores making his curly hair flick up and down with every breath. Sometimes he mutters in his sleep, to mumbled and quiet for Nico to make out.

He has stayed, for the most part, in a rickety wooden chair by Will’s side. He’s not sure why. His backside aches. There are nurses on duty, far more qualified and competent than he, who can monitor him easily. One nurse, even, with strangely coloured hair, walks into the infirmary five hours after Will passes out and immediately notices him on the cot, sighing loudly.

(“You need to take better care of yourself,” she’d whispered, running her fingers through his hair. Nico squashed down the sudden onslaught of bitterness that drowned his heart for no reason, nodding as she looked up and flashed him a small smile. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

There was no sarcasm in her use of the title. It startled him, which was disturbing. When had he come to expect it? And worse still, when did he come to accept it, Will’s mouthiness?)

When Will finally wakes, it is slowly. It matches the rise of the sun, Nico notices, in the languid way he stretches his limbs, the lethargic blinking of his long eyelashes. His brow furrowed when those blue eyes finally make contact, tilting his head as if he’s not sure he’s truly awake.

“…Your Highness?”

The sudden surge of rage is as frightening as it is comforting. He doesn’t know where it comes from. It’s familiar.

“You,” he seethes, “have endless nerve.”

He’d meant it as an insult, evidenced by his scathing tone. But Will preens.

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

“That was not a compliment! You collapsed in my arms, William! You were — greyer than stone! You slept for thirty hours!”

“Oh, good.”

Nico falters. (Which is unfortunate, because he had a good lecture rolling, something his tutors would have been proud of.)

“Good?”

“It was forty-two, last time.” He has the gall to look offended, huffing in Nico’s direction. “I wish you would leave well enough alone, Your Highness. I’m certain I would have persevered through the end of the season’s peak.”

“Through the end of the — you were dying!”

To his great distress, Nico finds himself choked up at the idea. He allows himself, fleetingly and privately, to acknowledge the fact that he does not want Will to die. In fact, he never wants to see Will close to that unwell ever again. He much prefers it when the doctor is rolling his eyes at him, turning away before Nico can see his smile, or pacing the infirmary floors as he rants about sanitary practices and organisms too small to see. He prefers Will when he is intense, in anger or in passion or in that bright, beaming smile of his, not…whatever he was. Dull. Worn down.

And then he takes those thoughts and stuffs them far into the recesses of his mind.

“I was not dying,” Will insists, but he has the grace to appear at least a little chagrined. “Good gods, Your Highness, I’ve been studying medicine since I could read. I know my limits.”

“Do you.” Nico’s voice is bitter, and he glares at Will until he looks away. “Because I could have sworn that you lost consciousness mid-sentence. I barely caught you.”

Will coughs. The tips of his ears turn red. Nico ignores it.

“William,” he says instead.

“Doctor William.”

Despite his anger, Nico’s lips twitch up into a smile. There he is.

He refuses to correct himself, if only to deepen the lovely (oh, no) scowl on Will’s face. “William, I don’t believe you’re to be trusted alone in your infirmary. I shall be staying to supervise you.”

Several emotions flit across Will’s face at once.

First is annoyance. Clear, plain, and simple, it’s almost an old friend to Nico at this point. Will was annoyed with him the first day they met. He was annoyed the second time, seething, really, dragging Nico back to the sterile surgical suite to fix his torn stitches. He was annoyed when Nico first shouted at him, bewilderment at this random physician treating him like he was another resident of the palace, not the only son of Hades. He was annoyed, notably, the one time Nico came to the infirmary after spraining his wrist in sword fighting and, in Will’s words, “breathed too loudly.” The annoyance he expected.

The next is fear. This, he takes much less pleasure in. There’s something disturbing about the look, not just because Will seems, to him, fearless, but because it seems so out of place. What about this situation does Will have to fear?

The third emotion is puzzling, and Nico can’t quite determine what exactly it is. His first thought is trepidation, but that’s not exactly true. It’s gone quick enough that he doesn’t care to linger.

The final emotion — and this one he has no trouble identifying — is pure, incandescent rage.

“You will do no such thing,” Will says, voice clipped. “I believe I have already informed you about the mechanics of this infirmary, Your Highness. I will not be intimidated.”

Nico rests his foot on his knee, leaning back into the chair. He adopts his favourite expression he often uses to enrage his father — eyebrow raised, smirk quirking the corner of his mouth, smugness practically dripping from him.

“I’m surprised you even remember that, as dead as you were.”

“I remember just fine,” says Will coolly, “and I especially remember removing you from the premises, so frankly I am unsure why you’re here again, Your Highness. Not unlike a wart one has already had removed.”

Nico refuses to laugh.

“I’m here because you collapsed into my arms. Like a damsel.”

Finally — third time is the charm — Will’s face erupts in a fiery blush. His freckles practically glow, and satisfaction ripples through Nico from head to toe. He looks murderous. Nico wishes to freeze him in time long enough to commission a portrait, perhaps to hang right over the physician’s desk. To remind him of his idiocy.

“I am no damsel —”

“Regardless,” Nico interrupts, standing. He reaches out when Will attempts to stand after him, pressing his palm flat to his chest and pushing him back against the cot. A strange sound escapes Will’s throat, and he doesn’t attempt to move again. “I will be taking my leave. I’ll be back before dinner to make sure you’ve not left your bed until you’re cleared by your nurse.” He glances over at the nurse who’d walked in earlier, finding her already watching with a wide smirk. “And then I’ll be back again tomorrow, to supervise.”

“I hope you choke on your dinner,” Will spits. He looks positively venomous, moreso when Nico laughs at him. “I mean that, Your Highness.”

Nico leaves without a response. When he returns as promised, hours later, Will attempts to lob roasted zucchini into his hair. In House Hades, he would be arrested for his behaviour. In fact, should King Apollo witness the total disdain in which Will regards Nico’s authority, he might still be arrested. It is appalling. No one has ever gotten away with so much insubordination in Nico’s life.

And yet, strangely, he’s not sure that he minds.

———

more in this au

[phoebepheebsphibs]

Snow Day

Title: Snow Day Prompt: There's a snowstorm, and someone's been gone since before it started. They were supposed to come home hours ago, so a member of the group heads out to find what happened to them. Fandom: ROTTMNT Word Count: 3681 Author: PhoebePheebsPhibs Rating: Gen Characters: Casey Jones Jr, Raphael, Leonardo, Baxter Stockboy cameo Warning: Casey gets real freaked out and has a minor anxiety/panic attack Summary: Casey goes out just before a snowstorm happens and gets caught right in the middle of it... Notes: No Beta, We Die Like Gram-Gram! Reused old art for illustration lol, you can see it on AO3

@cheetochild989 @tmnt-write-fight

Posted on AO3 <-

"I won't be gone long," Casey promised. "It's only a few things."

"Still, it's your first time buying groceries alone," Leo mumbled, the tap tap tap of his crutch echoing against the floor. He didn't always need it, but some days were harder than others. "I could go with --"

"No," Casey interrupted him, holding a hand up and stopping Leo in his tracks. "If I'm ever going to figure out how to live in this time period, then I need to learn to do these things on my own."

"Sheesh, alright!" Leo joked. "And don't say 'time period', this isn't the Victorian era! It's only what, 20-plus years into the past? Time period. Woof! You make it sound like we're ancient wizards or something..."

Casey laughed at the idea. The only one he could truly call a 'wizard' was Mikey, but he hadn't really gotten to that stage just yet. Mage, yes. Wizard? Maaaaybe in a few months, if he kept up the training with Draxum.

Casey and Leo went over the list one more time, adding one or two last-minute items that Leo suddenly thought of as they made their way to the exit. Casey stuffed the list into his pants before shoving a large and slightly oversized jacket over himself, struggling slightly with the arms.

"Don't forget your hat and earmuffs," Raph reminded him as he walked past. "It's really cold out today."

"Gotchya," Casey nodded, handling the earmuffs like they're some new and exotic species. "We didn't really have cold weather in the future..."

"Really?" Leo asked, his head tilting to the side. "What were winters like?"

"I dunno, like 60 degrees at the lowest?" he shrugged. "What with all the planetary devastation and laser blasts and global warming... weather became sorta nonexistent."

Raphael shuddered at the thought of such a thing. No weather meant no rain, no snow, maybe even no real wind or cloudy days. 

"Well, try to be home soon okay? I think there's a call for heavy snow later."

"Sure thing," Casey replied, half-paying attention to Raph as he walked out the door. After all, this is the past, and everyone has it so cushy! There's nothing dangerous here except for idiot muggers and a few mutants. What could possibly go wrong?

"And don't forget the mittens!" Raph called after him. Casey walked back into the lair, retrieved his gloves, and then walked back out.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄ ₊⁺ ⋆

Casey Jones Jr was starting to really like New York City, circa 2020. It was a different kind of hectic, but Casey had lived his entire life in chaos.

Instead of dodging missiles, he was dodging taxi cabs.

Instead of wild krang dogs, there were people walking a dozen angry chihuahuas and poodles and dobermans to earn money.

Instead of corpses laid to waste on the ground, there were a few homeless people sleeping in cardboard boxes.

Differences with small similarities.

The biggest difference was the turtles. Sensei Leonardo was no longer a tall and hulking king of the apocalypse with a robot arm who took no slack from anyone or anything -- he was now an ego-stripped teenager with a knee that had been so twisted up that it counted as a physical condition and they could qualify for disabled parking with the tank. Master Michelangelo was no longer someone who looked older than time and could create lavish magic spells with a flip of his hand, but an untrained child with an unbridled adoration for drawing and reality cooking shows. Uncle Tello was not the cybernetic scientist in overalls with a hundred extra technological advancements, but a nerdy teenager with 'secret' plans for anarchy against the US government. Raphael... well... Casey couldn't remember Raph firsthand. There were some photographs and video recordings of him, a few stories passed down, but the big red giant had been killed in action a few years after Casey Jr was born.

But this time period -- er, the past was still nice. It was crazy how many people he recognized. Baron Draxum, Commander O'Neil, Master Splinter, Todd 'The Sasquatch' Capybara, Big Mama... Casey would just be walking down the street and he'd see a couple with a child, and he'd realize the kid was one of the medics that helped him when he'd broken his leg. He would be buying pizza and the cashier was one of Uncle Tello's tech apprentices. In the Hidden City, an octopus Yokai would offer to sell him some mystic potion and Casey would recall they were one of the cooks in the mess hall who always gave him extra portions to help him grow, even when rations were low.

Casey reached the end of memory lane when he found the grocery store he'd been looking for. He casually walked inside just as a few unnoticed flakes of white began to fall from the sky above him.

"Hello, and welcome to the Stock & Shop!" an older woman greeted. "Holler if you need anything!"

Casey nodded with a smile as he started to gather everything on the list.

Chicken soup: got it.

New batteries for the remote: donezo.

Flaming-hot chips: three bags procured. 

Four different brands of soda: orange blast for Mikey, sugar-free cola for Raph, flavourless juice for Donnie, and diet blueberry bubble waters for Leo. Check.

Popcorn for movie nights: not yet.

The popcorn in question was placed on a hard-to-reach shelf high above him. Of course, this one particular brand that Mikey so desperately needed was at the very top. As Casey was reached up for the requested snack, a voice chimed in behind him.

"Better hurry, there's supposed to be a wicked snowstorm tonight!"

Casey jumped back, startled by the sudden sound. He looked down and saw a short, scrawny kid with a comparatively huge head looking up at him.

"Oh, hey. You look familiar...?"

"This is my parent's store, I work here all the time. Or maybe you've seen my videos? My channel? STOCKBOii?? Cybersleuth??"

"Stockboy? As in Baxter Stockboy?" Casey wondered, his eyes widening as the corners of his mouth turned up.

"Yeah! You've heard of me?" the child asked excitedly.

"Kind of," Casey replied, not exactly sure how to explain that Baxter had worked as one of Donatello's apprentices to create warships and mechas during the golden age of the Resistance, despite Sensei's reluctance. "I heard about the whole 'Mutant Menace' fiasco."

Baxter groaned loudly.

"Uggggh, that whole thing. My parents still won't let me leave the house unsupervised. It's ridiculous! One mass panic and riot instigation, and they turn on me! At least the judge agreed to let me work off community service in the store..."

Casey smirked just a little.

"Hmm. Anyway, you said something about a snowstorm?"

"Oh, right. The weather report says it might get up to two inches."

"What might get up to two inches?"

"Um... the snow? Look, it's started snowing already!"

Baxter Stockboy pointed out towards the front entrance. A small sprinkling of white could just barely be visible beyond the glass.

"Oh," Casey shrugged. "Doesn't look too bad."

"You say that now, but it's supposed to get below 30º Farenheit!"

"Oh. That is kinda cold," Casey agreed. "...But I'm sure it'll be okay."

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄ ₊⁺ ⋆

Ten minutes had passed.

Raphael received a notification from the weather app, informing that the previously predicted 'heavy snowfall' was now a full-blown snowstorm.

That probably wasn't good. But it wasn't terrible, either. Just some snow.

"Boys, it looks like tomorrow is another snow day!" he announced to the rest of the Hamatos.

From various rooms in the lair, Raph heard them shout in excitement.

"Yes!"

"Alright!"

"Snow day, hooRAY, baby!"

Raph smiled. He couldn't wait to introduce Casey to his first snowfall...

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄ ₊⁺ ⋆

Casey had finally gotten all the items on the list and was preparing to check-out, when an announcement went over the loudspeakers.

"Attention shoppers -- we encourage all patrons to finish up their errands, as we will be closing soon due to the weather. Thank you."

Huh. They sure were getting all riled up over this 'snow' stuff. Casey had witnessed a few storms before in the months prior, but it was never too bad. Thunderstorms were freaking terrifying, but only because they were loud and Casey's first thought was always that an air attack was happening. But he loved watching lightning. It reminded him of a few magic spells Master Michelangelo had performed on occasion...

Casey finished up the last of his errand and purchased the items. He needed a little help when trying to decide on paper or plastic, and for a moment he forgot the pin number for the card Splinter had given him, but other than that all had gone well.

He stepped out of the store, the glass doors sliding past him gracefully.

And he was greeted by a harsh blast of cold. It almost knocked him over, the icy wind biting his face so much he dropped the bags of groceries in order to cover his face with his regrettably un-mittened hands.

Okay. He was starting to see what people meant now. He hurriedly pulled his mittens on and scrambled to cover as much of his head as he could with his hat and earmuffs.

It had been cold these past few months, sure, but not like THIS! This was arctic.

And what's more, the sky was raining ash. That only ever happened when Uncle Tello sent missiles to blow the Krang vessels to kingdom come. So why was no one terrified, or hiding? Besides, there were no more Krang ships to incinerate. So then, what was...?

Casey happened to glance to the side and saw a kid sticking their tongue out. Their parents did the same. They caught a few of the flakes on the tips of their tongues, laughing as they shivered. Casey watched in wonder. He held a hand out. A single fleck of white flittered down to his palm, delicately touching down onto him, and melting upon impact with the glove. Casey was gently bewildered. He looked up at the sky. The heavens above were masked over with clouds of grey, hiding the universe from him, guarding him from the wonders he couldn't understand or comprehend. And yet, the universe deemed this wonder fit for him to comprehend?

Casey's mouth hung open as he gazed at the sky, confused. Snowflakes fell against his cheeks, his eyelashes, his lips, his chin. He stuck out his tongue and closed his eyes. It took a few minutes, but finally he felt one land and melt in his mouth.

...Underwhelming, if he was honest.

It was just water. He kind of expected a flavour.

The wind suddenly whipped against him. It had calmed for the brief moments that Casey stood there, but now was circling back in full fury. Casey gasped at the fierce chill, bundling himself up more and more before gathering the supplies and shuffling back to the lair. The wind swirling around him, the snow raining down with a vengefulness.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄ ₊⁺ ⋆

Twenty minutes had passed.

Raph had started to feel like he was forgetting something. He wasn't sure what, though...

Donnie had re-fortified the lair and central heating system, so now it would stay extra cozy despite the freezing temperatures outside. You could hear the wind start to roar if you went to the exterior tunnels and big exit door.

Raph remembered how in the early years when they were all teeny tiny turtle tots, Splinter had them all stay in the same room to conserve heat. He'd set up tons of heat lamps and space-warmers, bundle each one in extra-fuzzy blankets... Looking back, he could clearly see the panic that Splinter would be hiding at the idea that maybe they could all freeze to death if they weren't careful, or maybe that the power would go out when they weren't expecting it and he'd only have a few minutes to come up with a plan before hypothermia could creep in like a ghost. It was probably extra terrifying considering that they had minor cases of brumation when it got way too cold. They got better at combating it, wearing warm clothes to help stay warm. And it helped that they also had some minor mammalian DNA too, meaning that they had to be utterly and agonisingly cold for brumation to actually take effect. 

Still. Raphael had mad respect for Splinter now. He'd kept his cool and kept his calm, never once displaying the fear that probably filled his mind day in and day out. Raph wished he knew how to do that...

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄ ₊⁺ ⋆

Was Casey even going the right way?? He couldn't tell anymore.

The downpour of snow particles was starting to get so heavy that Casey couldn't even see ten feet in front of him, even with his mask on. Constantly blinded, he relied mostly on the lights from cars or neon signs to help guide him down the sidewalk. He couldn't remember the last time something like this had happened...

Maybe... during the dust storm incident. Sensei and Casey were in a losing battle against the Krang one day and in a sheer panic, Leonardo portaled them away and into some random place far, far away. Leonardo had initially assumed it was some inhospitable desert in the middle east or something, based on how much sand and wind there was. But after a quick look at the tracking device Donatello had installed, they realized that it was actually just New Mexico. Or, what was left of it. Sensei Leonardo had sent them right smack-dab in the middle of a dust storm, where the drought-riddled land had become so dry that the wind created massive walls of dirt and dust that engulfed everything. It could suffocate you, dehydrate you, blind you, etc. The might've died if Leonardo hadn't thought quickly and found a shelter for them to hide out in. He'd dropped one of his swords during the storm, so the two were forced to wait it out. Sensei Leonardo never did find that other sword. He'd had to create a new one with his ninpo.

Anyway, this snowstorm felt like the exact opposite of the dust storm.

Rather than hot and dry, this was cold and wet. But the stabbing sensations of small things constantly flying into you was the same. The wind that threatened to carry you away was the same. The loneliness was the same.

Casey was convinced that he'd gotten turned around somehow... He wasn't sure where he was.

Forget being able to see ten feet away, he could barely see his own hands in the storm!

This was not good. Casey reached up, feeling around his mask for a specific button that would activate a distress beacon. He'd modified it so that Donnie's tech could receive the call, and hopefully it would go through. But if the storm was as severe as it felt, then it was possible that the lines would be down and the lair's internet access and phone lines wouldn't get the message.

Casey found the button. He'd have to hope that they'd get the signal.

He pressed it, and then pressed on, hoping that he could find his way home on his own...

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄ ₊⁺ ⋆

Thirty minutes.

The lair was starting to get terribly frigid. Raph waltzed into the kitchen, shuddering from the chill as he did, hoping that maybe Mikey would start making something hot to eat and that in turn would warm up the kitchen. He only found Leo in there, swirling a mug of hot cocoa that he'd heated up. 

"Brr-rr-rr, it's cold! I thought Donnie fixed the heat?"

"He did, but it's still pretty frigid," Leo sighed. "I'm starting to get worried..."

"You think the power might go out?" Raph asked.

"No, I'm wondering where Casey is."

Casey?

OH SHOOT, CASEY.

"Raph completely forgot that Casey was out!" Raph screamed, hands flying through the air. "I thought he came back fifteen minutes ago! You mean he's still out there?!"

"Relax, it's just snowing. Not that big of a deal," Leo said as he took a long sip of cocoa from his mug.

"Leo, you do realize that Casey's never seen snow before?!" Raph reminded him. "And this ain't no ordinary gentle snowfall, this is practically a blizzard!" 

Raph huffed angrily before rushing to the lair entrance. He grabbed a coat, some galoshes, a scarf, gloves, snowpants -- the whole shebang. Leo followed casually, sipping his cocoa gently as he walked after him.

"Where'ya goin'?" he asked with a smile.

"I'm goin' after Casey, of course!" Raph yelled.

"Do you know where he is?"

"I got him right here on the little tracker thingy."

Raph held out his phone to display to Leo the small signal coming in from Casey Jr's mask.

"Mhm," Leo hummed. "Okay. Well, when you get back, maybe bring home a pizza too."

"Leo, can you be serious about this?!"

"Okay, fine. When you find him, call me and I'll portal the two of you home. Okay?" Leo suggested. "No sense trudging through the cold back and forth."

"Great, thanks," Raph grumbled before running out the door, pulling his collar up to prepare for the wind and wet.

Raphael ducked out. Down the corridors, up a ladder to the top of the street. He pushed the manhole cover aside with ease. He was instantly met with a barrage of wind and ice, the snow and slush that had been atop the cover sliding down and splashing onto his face.

Raph sputtered softly, wiping his face off before heading into the fray...

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄ ₊⁺ ⋆

Casey was huddled against something. A wall, a stone, a tree, a car -- he could hardly tell. It was so cold, his skin felt like it was peeling off. His eyes stung from the wind, his feet ached from the chill, his arms hurt from the cold and from carrying all the groceries with him this whole time. The straps on the plastic bags were digging into his arms, cutting off his circulation. It was so windy and loud, he couldn't hear the traffic of the city anymore. His jacket was coated in white.

He'd hoped that he could shield himself with whatever he was leaning against, but the wind came from all sides.

It was terrifying. Being alone. He hadn't felt alone like this in so long...

He remembered sitting alone, like this, long ago...

The wind whipping around, the sky dark, the battlefield torn and scarred, white flakes of ash raining down from above. It was cold that day, too. Casey couldn't be older than four years old at the time.

The ground was covered in grey and white from all the ash and cinder. Casey was covered in the powdery residue himself, his face white as a sheet, his messy and greasy hair holding in the flakes and embers from the explosion that had decimated the world around him.

But the worst was the silence that followed. Nothingness. Loneliness. Agony.

Casey started crying. Four years old, having watched the world end, having seen his mother die, and so many of her comrades, and only to be left alone and scared? Of course he was crying.

In the distance, a figure began to move. Casey gasped, trying to cover his mouth and keep silent as the looming creature lumbered towards him. The monster was huge, it must be a krang mecha or --

"Casey?"

He recognized that voice. It wasn't Sensei, but it was just as comforting.

"Casey, where you? Casey!"

The child meant to answer. But his voice was lost in his own throat.

"Casey! I see you! I'm coming, kid, I'm coming!"

Casey reached out for the Red Giant to take him home... The silhouette of his figure in the smoke and smog that surrounded them...

But as the figure stepped through the fog, it wasn't a red giant.

"Casey! There you are!! I was so worried, what happened?!"

Casey Jones Jr was taken back to the present moment, and stared at Raph in shock.

"R-Raph..?"

"Geez, Case, you look frozen solid! Are you okay?"

Casey nodded softly, getting back up on his feet as Raph gave him a hand.

"I'm fine," he whispered. "It... it, uh, started snowing."

"Yeah, I see that," Raph chuckled. "Sorry, we had no idea it would get so bad."

"It... it's okay," Casey responds quietly. "How did you find me?"

"Well the snow's dying down a bit, so it ain't as hard to see," Raph mentioned as he pointed up. Casey did notice that during his anxiety attack, the wind has calmed a bit more and the downpour of frozen particles was much gentler. "Besides, the tracker helped. Although, I am curious how you managed to get all the way into Central Park?"

"Wha-huh?" Casey gaped, turning around and examining the area.

He had been huddled against a tree trunk, and a few feet off in the distance was a playground. Ahead of him was the cityscape, behind him the rest of the wooded little area.

"Wow. I didn't realize that I came this far..."

Raph chuckled as he grabbed the groceries from the ground.

"So, you ready to get home? All I gotta do is call Leo and we can be back in the lair with some hot chocolate!"

Casey glimpsed at the park behind them. It was... actually quite lovely.

It was a magical world, sparkling and quiet. Undisturbed. Serene.

Raph noticed Casey's stare and looked back at the scene, smiling knowingly.

"It sure it pretty, ain't it?"

"...It's peace," Casey awed. "It's absolute peace. This... I've never seen anything like it before."

Raph took in a deep breath, inhaling the peace with gratitude for a world that could give you something so gorgeous after something so terrible.

"Yeah. It's really beautiful. Tell ya what, the guys can wait for a bit. Want me to show you around the Winter Wonderland for a bit?"

Casey nodded with a dumbfounded smile on his face.

The two walked out into the park together, enjoying the peace that they both had fought tooth and nail for.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄ ₊⁺ ⋆The End⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄ ₊⁺ ⋆

[wolfjackle-creates]

Ghost!Robin Part 4

Here's your next part of the Ghost!Robin fic for WIP Wednesday. I'm gonna start putting fic designation in the title field rather than WIP Wednesday because I think it makes it easier to read.

Also, everyone came out in numbers for last week's segment! Damn! Thank you and I'm glad so many of you are enjoying this little fic of mine. We'll probably get one more week of this before I go back to Bring Me Home, but it'll depend what I feel like. I want to rework some of what I have written next.

First, Previous

1.1k words + a 464 word Omake (cut scene)

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Tim asked more details on the specs of the PDA which Danny happily answered. The things he built with Tucker were always his favorite inventions.

“So are you in school to become an engineer or something?” asked Dick who’d gotten Damian calmed down and sitting. The boy had gotten his knife back and was spinning it in his hands. Bruce seemed to be fondly exacerbated by the scene. Robin had pulled out a ghostly weapon and was trying to copy Damian’s movements, though he wasn’t quite as adept.

Danny shook his head to Dick’s question. “Nah. Hard to get into engineering school when you fail high school.” Danny narrowed his eyes as Damian’s mouth opened, but Dick whispered in his ear again and the boy didn’t say anything.

“I ended up dropping out of high school and getting a GED,” said Tim. “It can work just as well.”

Robin was nodding along and pointing at himself, too. Had he died before he could complete his schooling, too?

“I’m sure. It’s just not a priority for me right now. I don’t need one for my job and I can’t become an astronaut because of my accident when I was fourteen.”

Dick was nodding, but Tim looked confused and asked, “Fourteen? I thought you had your accident when you were older?”

“Why would you think that?” Had he or Jazz made any reference to when his accident was? “No, it happened when I was fourteen. A few weeks before I started my freshman year of high school.

Before Tim could ask anything else, Steph called out from the other side of the room. “Did you say you wanted to be an astronaut? Totally awesome. What made you pick that?”

“I honestly don’t know why everyone doesn’t want to be astronauts! Space is so cool. We can learn so much about the universe by studying it in closer detail. And with how many aliens are now living at least part time on Earth, it only makes sense to explore and see what else might be out there.”

Bruce nodded at him. “I am sorry you aren’t able to become one.”

Danny just waved a hand in the air. “I came to terms with it a long time ago. And my current job is fine. Might not be what I would’ve chosen, but I’ve made it work for me.” Deciding he should change the subject before someone had the brilliant idea to ask more about his accident or job, he asked, “So what is for dinner, anyway? You’ve all talked about how amazing the food is, but what are we having?”

Someone tried to speak up, but Jason held up a hand. “I’m the one who helped Alfie cook. Demon-brat is vegetarian so we have a vegetarian curry. If you like meat, there’s a prime rib roast. Then a half dozen different sides—vegetables, rice, potatoes. Huge salad with all the fixings and a dozen different dressings to choose from. And dessert after.”

“Damn, that sounds amazing. I haven’t had a good home cooked meal in ages, so I’ve been looking forward to this.”

“Has your Grandpa been keeping you that busy?” asked Jazz.

“That, but also getting things in order to take this evening off. There’s just been a lot. I’m spending the night at yours, by the way.”

“I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

Danny knew he could rely on Jazz.

“Ooh, do you have any good stories about Jazz as a kid?” asked Jason.

Laughing, Danny said, “So many! But I don’t think we’ll be able to get to those tonight. I’ve a feeling you’ll be interested in other things by that point.” At his words, Robin grinned and pointed at himself. Danny gave him a slight nod to confirm that yes, they’d be talking about him.

Before Jason could ask for clarification, Alfred came in to announce dinner was ready.

Robin cheered and flew over to sit on Alfred’s shoulders, hand extended, to lead the way to the dinning room. Danny couldn’t hold back the chuckle and Jazz shot him a look which he ignored.

“There better be a place setting for you, Alfie!” called Jason as they followed.

“You made your opinion quite clear, Master Jason. And as I wish to meet your young lady and her brother as well, I have set myself a plate at the main table.”

Tim leaned over to whisper to Danny. “Alfred considers his role as butler very important. He rarely eats with the rest of us unless we join him in the kitchen.”

Danny nodded to show he understood, but had no idea how to actually reply to that. It seemed needlessly complicated.

Once they made it to the dining room, Danny grinned as Robin did a flip off of Alfred’s shoulders and landed sitting down on one of the place settings facing the associated chair. He bit his cheek to keep from laughing as Jason sat down at that same place. Jazz took a seat next to him and Danny sat to her other side. Dick ended up sitting next to him.

The scents of all the food wafting off the table made his mouth water and he closed his eyes just to breathe it in. “This smells amazing. Thanks Alfred. And Jason.”

Even Robin had moved to look over every dish, reaching out a hand to try and take something and sighing when he just phased through it.

Even Jazz looked a bit overwhelmed at the quantity of food. “This is so much effort. You didn’t have to do all this just for Danny and me.”

Bruce smiled at her. “It is so rare for all of us to be together for dinner so we make a spectacle of it any time it happens. And this is the first time Jason has ever brought anyone with him which makes it an even bigger event.”

Danny nudged her. “So, Jazz, what’s it like living with someone who can cook?”

Jason laughed. “Jazz isn’t allowed in the kitchen. You know, I caught her grabbing my chef’s knife before going into the fridge the other day!”

Danny furrowed his brow. “Of course she did. It’s a fridge.”

“Wait, is that a family trait? Why do you grab a knife to open the fridge? There’s gotta be a good story behind that.”

Before Danny could make the obvious statement regarding attacking food, Jazz elbowed him. “We’ll tell you later. It has to do with our parents and that’s a large topic and not one we should get into now.”

Before Danny could ask any questions about what the big deal was, Dick nudged him. “Which do you want—curry or beef?”

---------

Omake

Ignoring all of it, Danny shook his head and answered Dick. “Nah. Hard to get into college when you fail high school and are legally dead.”

Multiple people, including Jason, exclaimed at that statement and he looked to Jazz.

“Did Jazz not tell you about that? Our parents swear they saw my ghost and had me declared legally dead. I was missing at the time so the coroner agreed. Sighting the ghost of a missing person is all you need to confirm death in Amity.”

Under her breath, Jazz added, “You were only missing because they had you.”

Danny elbowed her and quietly chirped a Safe now.

Bruce was no longer smiling and was looking at Danny with narrowed eyes. “Your parents had you declared dead.”

“Yeah. It’s fine, though. I’ve an amazing doctor if I get into trouble. My grandfather is watching out for me. I’m financially stable. My partners are able to rent an apartment large enough for all three of us. I have other places to stay when I’m traveling. Honestly, it doesn’t impact my life all that much. Just means I’m not gonna go to college. And only reason I wanted to go to college was to be an astronaut, but my health makes that impossible.”

“Hn…” Bruce hummed.

And Danny had no idea what that meant, but Robin was now laughing, and Dick was exchanging grins with Tim, and Steph and Cass were whispering together. Damian was glaring at him even harder, blade hilt gripped in his hand. These people were strange.

Danny looked over at Jazz who shrugged. Jason was glaring at Bruce and said, “Don’t you dare.”

“Look, it’s really not a big deal. I know it’s kinda a messed up situation, but ghosts are generally treated really well in Amity. As well as any living human, at least. So long as you avoid the Guys in White and my parents that is. So outside of interactions with them, nothing has changed.”

“If you are ever in need of a place to stay or a meal or anything, you’ll have a room here,” offered Bruce.

Robin landed on Danny’s shoulders and was sending out happy-celebrate feelings. Steph handed Cass a few bills. Tim and Dick mimed giving each other fist bumps. Jason put his head in his hands and groaned. Duke was grinning at them all.

Damian half stood and said, “Father—!”

But Dick was at his side and pulling him back down to the couch with an arm around his shoulders, hand over his mouth, and whispering into his ear before he could do more than say the one word.

“Seriously, it’s not a big deal.” Trying to think of anyway to change the subject, he asked, “So what’s for dinner, anyway?”

And for the Tag List! (Which absolutely exploded this week. Holy shit.)

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The celebration post for 100 followers will be going out in another day or two! I've just had a really busy few weeks and didn't do as much writing as I was hoping for. But I hope to finish writing today and then I'll just take a few hours to edit.