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chvoswxtch · 5 months

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slumber party

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader x derek morgan x spencer reid

summary: while en route to a case, the four of you let off a little steam.

warnings: all of them. every single one of them. swearing, a lil angst, derek morgan's smile, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

word count: 3.3k

a/n: let's be real. you didn't come here for a plot, and I didn't write one. enjoy this slutty vision I had in the shower. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

The jet was quiet apart from the sporadic sound of pages being flipped and Spencer’s occasional soft noises of either being intrigued or perplexed regarding details of the case, deciphered only by their volume and pitch. Hotch had read the same paragraph on the report at least seven times, and there seemed to be some kind of disconnect between his tired eyes and unresponsive brain. Letting out a quiet irritated exhale and diverting his attention to the top of the paragraph yet again, a soft noise caused his ears to perk up.

Finally looking up from the report for the first time in half an hour since he originally sat down, creases furrowed in the midst of his forehead when he glanced towards the other end of the jet and caught sight of you. From where he sat, all he could see was the back of your head since you seemed to be facing the back of the seat you were in, which he found extremely odd. But as he craned his neck, he noticed a familiar pair of hands on your hips and instantly clenched his jaw.

“Son of a bitch.”

The second Hotch shot up out of his chair, Spencer finally tore his own eyes away from the report and turned his head to follow Hotch’s angry march down the aisle of the jet with a mixture of curiosity and confusion. Now that there were no obstructions in his line of sight, Hotch had the full view of you sitting topless on Derek’s lap with your skirt bunched up around your waist, grinding your hips down in a slow but sensual rhythm. Derek’s hands were firmly grasped on your hips to help guide your movements, and his face was buried into your exposed chest.

“Morgan you greedy fucker.”

The sound of Hotch’s angry voice booming in the comfortable silence caused you to immediately tense up and stop moving, but Derek wasn’t having any of that. He gripped a little tighter onto your hip and gave your ass a light smack, pulling his head back to look at you with that dazzling smile of his that could make anyone weak in the knees.

“No no no no, keep goin’ baby girl. Don’t worry about him. You just keep doing what you’re doing…that’s it.”

Derek leaned his head back against the seat, looking over at Hotch with that same charming grin on his face. His warm chocolate brown eyes were glazed over with lust and had been eclipsed into half moons of pleasure.

“Sorry Hotch, she just looked too goddamn good.”

“What’s going on back-oh.”

As Spencer took his place beside Hotch, his eyes immediately went wide at the sight he was met with. He seemed to be completely mesmerized by the erotic flow of your hips while you languidly rode Derek’s cock as you sat topless on his lap. While Spencer was bewitched by the spell of your hips, Hotch was furious. The stern look that seemed to be his default expression was unaffected by the show taking place before him.

“Morgan, you know the rules-”

“Come on, Hotch. We still got another hour before we land. Lighten up a little. You know, some stress relief would do you a whole lotta good.”

Before Hotch had a chance to respond, Spencer was already stepping forward and unbuttoning his cardigan.

“You could’ve at least asked us to join.”

Derek let out a soft chuckle, rubbing his hands up and down your smooth thighs as he flexed his hips upwards to match your pacing.

“Hey, you were the one more invested in exactly how many trees there are in the Acadia National Park than you were in the beautiful woman on the plane, pretty boy.”

“Well if I had known-”

Letting out a frustrated huff, you stopped moving and placed your hand over Derek’s mouth before turning to look at Spencer and Hotch over your shoulder.

“Boys, you know I hate it when you argue. It makes me dry up.”

Spencer dropped his forgotten cardigan on the chair behind himself, his attention solely fixed on you again. In the dim lighting of the plane, you could just barely see that the green flecks in his honey eyes had deepened into a wicked hue. He ran his fingers gently through your hair before cradling your face in one hand and starting to unbuckle his belt with the other, all while looking at you and dragging his tongue along his bottom lip.

“Don’t worry, we can get you wet again.”

“Not if you’re all standing around bickering instead of fucking me.”

Hotch wasn’t giving in, no matter how badly he wanted to. It was late, he was exhausted, he was beyond sexually frustrated, but above all he was fucking stubborn.

“There is one rule on this fucking plane. When we are en route to a case, we are focused on the case. Playtime is for after.”

Brushing Spencer’s hand away from his belt, a smirk tugged across your lips as you looked up at him and began to unbuckle it yourself, which only caused him to bite down on his bottom lip seductively. Throwing a glance over your shoulder at Hotch, you could visibly see just how pissed off he was, but as your gaze wandered down south, you could also see the outline of his impressive cock starting to strain against his pants. Sinking your teeth into your own bottom lip, you looked up at Hotch through your, flashing him a sultry smile while you teasingly unzipped Spencer’s pants slowly.

“Aw, come on, Aaron. If anyone needs some relief, it’s you. Just come have a little fun with us.”

The hardness in Hotch’s glare wavered only slightly at the provocative sound of your voice. It was an unrelenting struggle to keep his eyes focused directly on yours and to not let them roam over your body. If he let his gaze wander for even a split second to see the way your nipples were peaked from the cool air in the cabin, the way your soft hand was caressing Spencer’s cock through his pants, or the way your ass moved against Derek’s lap while you fucked him, he would break. While Derek began to flex his hips upwards a little harder to fuck up into you now that there was no longer a reason to stay quiet, you were pulling Spencer’s cock out of his briefs and leaning over to take him into your mouth.

Before he could watch you wrap your lips around Spencer’s tip, Hotch quickly looked away and stormed off towards the other end of the jet, dropping into his chair and loosening his tie with a hardened scowl on his face.

“You’re all getting written up.”

“For what?”

Derek's protest was only faintly heard since Hotch’s blood was now pounding in his ears like a high school marching band, and throbbing in other places.

“Insubordination.”

There was a slight growl to his voice as he barked back at Derek, not even bothering to look up as he angrily began to look through the case file again, but he couldn't focus. No matter how hard he tried, all he could hear was Derek and Spencer praising you in tandem as they each took an offering from your body, and the soft noises of gratitude that flowed from your lips. It was absolute fucking torture. He thought about palming himself through his pants, just to get a little reprieve without alerting any of you to his moment of weakness. But he was so fucking angry with all of you, he didn’t even want to give in.

His mind was a jumbled concoction of juxtaposed thoughts, none of which had anything to do with the case in front of him. Hotch wasn’t sure why he was so pissed off right now. It wouldn’t have been a big deal if he had joined in, it wasn’t like the four of you hadn’t done it before. It certainly would’ve put him in a better mood. But this was a big case, and Strauss had been on his ass more than usual lately, and things at the BAU had been so chaotic that the team was getting split up just to keep up with the influx of cases coming across JJ’s desk.

Maybe it was a mistake not to send you with Rossi, JJ, and Prentiss. The air always shifted when you were alone with him, Reid, and Morgan. It was inevitable. Maybe that’s why he ordered you to come with him, because even if he didn’t want to consciously admit it, subconsciously he knew that this was exactly what he needed. He needed you, and the peace that you brought him.

The sharp sound of a smack landing on flesh caught his attention, and Hotch looked up to see that the three of you had moved to the bench directly in his line of sight. Derek had his head thrown back as pounded into you from behind, occasionally smacking his hand against your ass while he grunted about how tight and wet you always were. Spencer held your hair back while he fucked your mouth, watching you as he moaned praises of what a good girl you were. Your face was obstructed by Spencer’s back, but Hotch could hear how much you were enjoying yourself, and he couldn’t look away.

As Derek and Spencer came in unison, Hotch gripped onto the edge of the table so tightly his knuckles turned stark white, and he inhaled a sharp breath that he let out slowly through his nose. Gritting his teeth, he glared down at the blur of black ink on the pages, listening to the sound of your angelic laughter and kisses being exchanged between the three of you. Why was he doing this to himself? Why hadn’t he just fucking given in and joined?

While Spencer was sitting on the couch with his pants around his ankles, head back against the window with a blissed out look on his face, Derek snaked his arm around your waist and pressed a soft kiss to your neck before whispering into your ear.

“Do me a favor, baby girl. Go take care of grumpy over there.”

Letting out a quiet giggle, you turned and brushed your nose against Derek’s before kissing him softly.

“Already ahead of you, D.”

Discarding your skirt completely, you dropped it in Spencer’s laugh and planted a quick kiss to his lips before sauntering down the aisle of the plane, completely naked. Hotch glanced up when he caught the smell of your familiar perfume and looked at you with a halfhearted glare. All you could do was smile at the sight of his thick brows furrowed and the permanent scowl that he always seemed to wear. You both knew he couldn’t stay mad at you, and he didn’t even put up a fight when you made him lean back against his seat so you could sit on his lap.

“Why are you so mad baby, hm?”

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you ran one of your hands through his dark brown hair, giving a gentle tug at the root which earned a quiet grunt from him. As you leaned in to place featherlight kisses along his jaw, you could feel his body physically relax, as well as how much his hardened cock was straining against his pants. But despite the giveaways from his body, Hotch wouldn’t budge. He didn’t make a move to touch you, and he didn’t speak. He was always the hardest of the three to break, but you knew exactly where his weak points were.

“Oh, you don’t wanna talk, huh? That’s okay. I’d prefer to do something else with my mouth right now anyway.”

Gently biting down on his earlobe, you felt his thighs tense up beneath you and a quiet grunt sound from his chest, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly. As you got off his lap, you slowly got down onto your knees in front of Hotch and unbuckled his belt. Since he was already in a sour mood, you decided to skip the teasing, and honestly you were so turned on yourself that you didn’t have the patience for it.

He was trying so hard not to give in while you were pulling the leather of his belt out of the buckle, and even as you were unbuttoning his pants and tugging down the zipper, he was trying to appear completely unbothered while looking at the case files. But the second he felt your luscious lips wrap around the throbbing head of his cock that was slick with pre-cum, he completely lost it.

Letting his head fall back against the seat, he closed his eyes and his lips parted as he focused solely on the warmth of your mouth and the wetness of your tongue sliding against the underside of his sensitive tip. In that moment he completely forgot whatever he was mad about. Every single coherent thought in his head vanished, and all that was left was you.

You don’t mind when he slips his hand into your hair and grips at it roughly, or when he starts to push his hips upwards to seek out more. It was rare that Hotch ever gave in to his selfish desires, and you were all too eager to let him. The sight above you was one you wished you could frame. His dark brown hair was messy from you running your fingers through it and his eyes were peacefully screwed shut. There was a twinge of heat covering his cheeks, and his lips were parted further as heavy pants and soft whimpers escaped. Those little noises only make you want to steal more of them from the man that was normally so stoic and closed off.

All of a sudden, Hotch roughly pulled at your hair causing you to moan around him. He grunted while leaning down to slip his hands under your arms, pulling you up from your knees and shoving all the reports off the table in front of him carelessly onto the floor. He grabbed you by your hips and lifted you up onto the table, and you immediately spread your legs wide for him to slot through. Without wasting another second, Hotch pulled you towards the edge of the table and easily slipped his thick cock inside your drenched pussy. Both of you moaned simultaneously at the contact, and he only faltered for a second before he started to aggressively snap his hips against yours.

Faintly, you can hear Derek whistling from the other side of the plane and the sound of him clapping as he calls out to Hotch.

“There he is. Come on, Hotch. Give us a show.”

When you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, Hotch wrapped one of his large hands around your throat and lightly squeezed. You can tell he’s still frustrated by the feral way he’s fucking you against the table, but you can feel just how badly he needs this release. Sneaking one of your hands down to play with your clit, you only get away with it for a few seconds before Hotch roughly smacks your hand away and tightens his grip on your throat. He replaces your hand with his own and starts to furiously rub quick circles over your sensitive clit, tearing a sharp moan from your chest. You can feel how close he is already by the way his rhythm starts to falter. When he speaks, his voice is so low and husky that it almost sounds like a growl.

“You insatiable little slut. You haven’t come enough already? You think you deserve to come again after the way you’ve been acting?”

“Aaron-”

“Shut up.”

The only thing you can hear over the obscene sound of Hotch’s thighs smacking against your ass with every powerful thrust and the lewd squelching of his cock disappearing over and over inside your tight cunt is the dark chuckle that sounded from Spencer before he spoke.

“Uh oh, someone pissed off Daddy.”

The way you moan Hotch’s name nearly has him combusting right there. When he starts to rub your clit harder, your jaw becomes unhinged and hangs open, but nothing comes out. You can’t speak, you can’t even make a sound. Hotch grunts as his pace becomes even more fervent and brutal. He was fucking you with everything he had, using your body to expel every ounce of pent up frustration, and you were already ascending into the clouds.

“You wanna come so fucking badly? Then do it.”

The tightening of your cunt around his cock sends both of you over the edge, and both of your moans seem to echo in the small space of the cabin. Hotch continues to fuck you wildly through his orgasm, gripping onto the edge of the table to steady himself. Once he starts to slow down after emptying himself inside of you completely, the blissed out smile that replaces the frown on his mouth makes you giggle, and it causes him to finally open his eyes and look down at you with an arch of his brow.

“What?”

“Better?”

Hotch just stares down at you for a moment with slightly narrowed eyes before he finally gives in, his lips parting into that wide grin that you love so much but rarely get to see. Taking a moment to catch his breath, a light chuckle leaves him as he gazes down at you with softer eyes this time and brushes your hair away from your face gently.

“You know, the whole point of me being your boss is you’re supposed to actually listen to me.”

“You of all people know I listen very well.”

The sultry tone of your voice and the implications behind it caused Hotch to smirk, and you can feel the effect it has when you feel his cock twitch inside of you. Leaning in, he brushed his lips against your own and gave your ass a light smack.

“When you’re being a good girl and not such a brat.”

A soft noise of surprise left your lips when he smacked your ass, and you giggled while grabbing his face in your hands to pull him in for a soft and slow kiss.

“I don’t hear you complaining.”

Rolling his eyes, Hotch reluctantly pulled out of you with a soft hiss and helped you down from the table. He ran one of his hands through his hair and took another deep breath before tucking his softened cock back into his pants.

“Alright, everyone back to work.”

“Wait, everyone got to fuck her but me, that’s not fair.”

Hotch glanced down at his watch on his wrist before looking over at Spencer, shooting him a pointed look when he caught the slight pout on Spencer’s lips.

“We’re landing in twenty minutes and we still need to prep.”

As Spencer began to protest, you walked over towards him and placed your hand on his chest, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his cheek with a mischievous grin.

“Don’t worry, Spence. I’ll share a room with you tonight, and you can fuck me all you want.”

Spencer’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas, but Derek and Hotch immediately began to protest as they shared a look before staring at the two of you with looks of frustration.

“Whoa whoa whoa-“

“That’s not-“

Spencer wrapped his arms around you to pull you in, bending down to kiss you deeply while grabbing a handful of your ass to squeeze tightly causing you to giggle. He nipped at your bottom lip before turning to look at Hotch and Derek with a smug smirk.

“Don’t worry. Unlike you two, I know how to share. Maybe we can all have a slumber party.”

tags: @mars-rants-a-lot @ninejlovebot @oscarisaacsleftknee @ameliaswife @vane28282 @kmc1989 @avencol

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totalswag · 20 days

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nonsense — DREW STARKEY

authors note i've wanted to write a singer!reader drew fic for the longest time. i've read some singer!reader fics lately and it gave me some inspiration to write my own. i hope you guys enjoy reading. this was also requested by an anon not long ago, so if you’re reading this enjoy 🩵. the song choice is nonsense and just think to when sabrina is performing this song at coachella.

summary performing at coachella for the first time with friends and your lovely boyfriend supporting you in the crowd.

warnings none!

Coachella.

This is your first Coachella where you are performing. You will be playing live in front of millions of people. This is the last weekend for the festival.

Tens of thousands of people travel from all over the world to attend Coachella. The festival features sculptures, art installations, and other open events in addition to music.

When your manager called you about being invited to perform you couldn't believe your ears. Now, here you are about to step on stage.

Standing in a circle backstage with your crew, discussing everything you've prepared for over the last few days and having fun out there. This is what you always do before a show.

Second weekend of the festival.

Walking on stage seems like a surreal experience for you. Looking around, you can sense the intensity of the enormous crowd in front of you.

The weather was lovely, with the sun still shining and the breeze brushing over your skin.

"Hello Coachella, my name is Y/F/N, what's yours?" You smile into the microphone while waving away.

You began by introducing the crowd to yourself, your backup dancers, your music, if everyone is having a great time, etc.

Interacting with your fans is one of your favorite parts of singing on stage. You value your interactions with them since you like conversing. When you read comments on your shows, they usually mention how fascinating you are.

After singing a few songs from the set list, you took a little breather and spoke to the crowd saying a joke, making them laugh.

You begin the next song by sipping from an old-fashioned soda bottle while seated in a chair. As you take a seat, you glimpse your boyfriend, Drew, along with a couple of your friends and security.

You two make eye contact. Butterflies fill your stomach. You offer him a small wave, and he smiles and turns around, presumably blushing.

Fans up close captured the brief interaction with their phones out. We'll see it on social media later today.

Drew and you began dating in the midst of season three of Outer Banks. The first outing was Pougelandia, and fans began to speculate about your relationship because it came out of nowhere.

To be honest, Madelyn Cline and you were close friends before she began filming season one of Outer Banks. She’s the one who introduced you to Drew.

"The last song I'll be playing for you guys is nonsense, so if you know the lyrics, sing along," you cheer, lifting your free hand in the air, moving it around with excitement.

"Is it possible we get my amazing dancers out here," you turn around, pretending you have no idea where they went, "guys come out here, we could perform some sort of choreography, you know" as you gaze at your dance crew coming out the set.

Nonsense is about Drew.

It is one of your favorite songs that you have written. When you first released it, many were unsure who it was about until photos of Drew and you emerged.

Think I only want one number in phone

I might change your contact to "don't leave me alone"

You said you like my eyes and you like to make 'em role

Treat me like a queen, now you got me feelin' thrown, oh

You dance with your dancing crew, who are behind you and moving in sync. The choreography is muscle memory for you guys because you've been performing this song for a few years now.

But I can't help myself when you get close to me

Baby, my tongue goes numb, sounds like "bleh bleh bleh"

I don't want no one else (no no) baby, I'm into deep

Here's a little song I wrote (a song I wrote) its about you and me

When you sing the last line of the pre-chorus, you gesture to Drew in the audience, who moves his head side to side while listening to you sing and blushes when you point to him. You giggle into the microphone.

Fans started cheering louder as they watched you motioning to your lover in the audience.

You continue to move around stage all throughout the song.

You go around the center of the stage as your backup dancers finish their final few dances. One of your backup dancers grabs a chair for you to sit in.

At the end of nonsense you always come up with rhymes. Started doing this after the first performance and can't stop doing it.

Told him he makes me weak to my knees

Everything about him just so dreamy

By the way he's name Drew Starkey

When you say your boyfriend's name, the crowd cheers. You saw his response as he mouthed the words "I love you," dropped his jaw, and put his hands over his heart.

"Coachella, you've been amazing to me these past two weekends. Thank you so much. Can we please give a huge around of applause for our amazing dancers, come on out guys!" Excitement in your voice when you call your dance crew out on stage.

Once you guys made it off stage, you guys began cheering with a bunch of energy. Everyone gave each other hugs.

"Water is calling my name right now" you groan with urgency.

Approaching your manager, holding a cold water bottle for you- thanking her a few times as you open the bottle. You were about jugging down the water when you heard Drew's voice approaching.

"Hi baby," you squeal, dragging the y in baby, and rush into Drew's arms, wrapping your arms around his neck. Being in his arms sends relief in your body.

He smells so good.

He chuckles, "You did so well out there, so proud of you," and delicately places you on your feet.

"Thank you," blushing to the point where your cheeks were red. "Did you enjoy the outro of nonsense?" You inquire with curiosity, despite the fact that you already know his response.

He softly grins that makes your heart flutter, "Mhm yeah I did" kissing the top of your head, wrapping his right arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him.

"Why don't we get something to eat?" "How's that sound, baby?" Drew asks, his arm still around you.

Your ears and eyes light up from his request, “obviously yes.”

Before leaving you heard the voices of friends turning the corner. The rest of your friends, as well as Drew's cast members who are also your friends, returned to stage, thrilled to see you.

It was so good to see them.

Drew and you returned to the van to change, drove to the Airbnb to relax before returning to watch other artists perform after the sun had set with your friends.

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pucksandpower · 11 months

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Charles Leclerc x Wolff!Reader x Max Verstappen - Social Media AU

Little (Ferrari) Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad She Wolff

Love is in the air for these two stars of the paddock! Brace yourselves as we spill the scorching hot tea on the newest potential pairing that has set tongues wagging. The grapevine is buzzing with the latest snapshots capturing none other than Ferrari’s golden boy, Charles Leclerc, and the stunning princess of the paddock, Y/N Wolff, in what can only be described as a romantic rendezvous. Oh la la! In these sizzling photos the duo can be seen cozied up in the VIP section, captivated by each other’s company and stuck in their own world, ignorant of the busy club around them. The obvious sparks between the young heartthrobs leave fans and gossip hounds wondering if there is more than just friendship brewing between them … (Read More)

A Wolff on the Prowl: Y/N Wolff spotted getting cozy with Max Verstappen

Hold onto your racing helmets because our newest racing romance just took an unexpected twist! We had barely caught our breath from the sizzling chemistry between Charles Leclerc and Y/N Wolff when another speedster entered the picture. Some lucky fans caught Y/N locking lips with the reigning world champion, Max Verstappen, leaving us all in a state of utter shock and awe. It’s a tale as old as time, with Y/N and Max gazing into each other’s eyes like they have discovered the key to the podium of love. The intensity between these two is palpable and their beaming smiles suggest that this could be more than just a passing fling. Will this newfound affair send shockwaves through F1, leaving Charles Leclerc heartbroken and fans breathless? Buckle up, dear readers, as we brace ourselves to see how this unfolds … (Read More)

y/nwolff posted a story

Just an inchident? Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen seem closer than ever despite their apparent battle for the heart of Y/N Wolff

Rev your engines because the race for Y/N Wolff’s heart is reaching exhilarating speeds! While the rivalry between Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen is as fierce as ever on the track, it seems that outside of the race itself a surprising bond has formed between these two young stars. Interestingly, during the Austrian Grand Prix cameras caught Leclerc and Verstappen sharing an incredibly close friendship. Despite their fierce competition for Y/N’s affection earlier this week, the two drivers were spotted laughing, hugging, and inseparable whenever they had a chance, proving that friendship can indeed thrive in the midst of romantic tension. Are they genuinely defying expectations and putting their hearts on hold for the sake of camaraderie or is this just a cleverly orchestrated PR move? Only time will reveal the true nature of this intriguing friendship and love triangle they are part of … (Read More)

y/nwolff

Liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, and 1,285,493 others

y/nwolff Happy Pride Month 😉

View all 4,762 comments

charles_leclerc mes amours ❤️

maxverstappen1 mijn liefdes ❤️

y/nwolff my boy toys 🥵

charles_leclerc i see how it is

maxverstappen1 she only wants us for our bodies

y/nwolff kidding, kidding. i love you both more than anything ❤️

y/nwolff and of course i don’t only want you for your bodies … i want you for your cars too

mercedesamgf1 Oh

redbullracing My

scuderiaferrari God

feralferrari this is not what i was expecting

givesyouwings i don’t think anyone predicted this but they are adorable together

silverarrows y/n has the power to build one of the most insane driver lineups ever for mercedes

y/nwolff they have to survive meeting my dad after he learns that we’re together before we can even think about that 😅

lestappenbeliever this is the best day of my life

formulanone we got married a week ago?

lestappenbeliever i said what i said but our wedding was a close second

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atlabeth · 27 days

Text

(not so) simple finale - anthony bridgerton

masterlist

summary: coercing lord bridgerton into pretending to court you to avoid the affections of a baron is very simple — that is, until it isn’t.

a/n: so um ignore how long every part of this took to come out. i have no excuse. anyways we are finally here at the end!! almost 10k words of proper regency soap opera type shit and it all ends happily i promise. i hope u enjoy because damn this was supposed to be a short one shot and ended up being over 40k lmao

wc: 9k

warning(s): angst, reader is a lil insecure, slightly steamy make out scene, happy ending<333

You’d never been this restless before.

Your dreams had a part to play in it. They insisted on tormenting you, though not in the usual way.

No, these dreams would have been pleasant had they come any sooner. For Anthony Bridgerton appeared in near every single one, with his charming smile and soft eyes and hair you always desired to run your fingers through.

He would smile at you, offer his arm and walk with you all around the park and the city as you talked for hours. He would compliment you, and you would compliment him, and he would court you as a perfect gentleman would.

He would kiss you, ravenously so. His hands would touch you where no one had touched before, leaving trails of fire in their wake, would unearth feelings you never could have imagined. He would revere you, near worship you, because in this world you never made such ill-advised choices. In this world, you never dragged him into a worthless scheme that ended with a ruined reputation and a broken heart.

In this world, he loved you just as much as you loved him, and you never did a single thing to make him doubt that.

But you were not there.

You were here, in the real world. Where you were in the midst of reaping what you spent a whole season sowing.

You were roused from that less than peaceful attempt at sleep—though thoughts of Anthony took longer to disappear—by the opening of your door, and despite your visitor attempting to be quiet, you found your eyes fluttering open against your will.

“Oh, dearest,” your mother lamented, “I did not mean to wake you. I apologize; I merely wanted to check on you. I will return later—please, rest.”

“No,” you murmured, and you rubbed your eyes as you pushed yourself into a sitting position. Small movements were much easier, which at least meant a step in the right direction. “No, stay. Please.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. When you nodded, she closed the door lightly behind her and sat on your bedside, laying her hand over yours.

She whispered your name, her voice already thick with tears that she was trying to hide. “I am so glad you are alright.”

“You say that every time you come in here,” you said.

“And I will continue to say it.” She shook her head. “You nearly perished. You should consider yourself lucky I am not in here at all hours of the day.”

You managed a smile, and she sighed. “How do you feel?”

“Better,” you said. “I am still sore, but much better.”

“Good,” she said. “All I can ask is that you continue to get better.”

“The rest has certainly been nice,” you said. “Am I still a true lady despite my late wakings?”

“You have always been a true lady,” your mother assured with a slight smile.

“I believe you may be the only one that still thinks so.”

“If you are feeling ready, there is a ball in a fortnight,” she said. “It could be a good way to garner good will again.” You gave her a look, and she held up her hands. “I understand how you feel, but your presence is important. There are… rumors floating about, and we must lay them to rest.”

“Rumors,” you muttered wryly. “That your daughter is an ungrateful wench and will die a spinster?”

She said your name sternly, and you shook your head. “I read what Whistledown wrote about me—she’s likely written a hundred more. I do not care what any of them think of me, Mother. I am only sorry for the pain it has caused you and Father, and the Bridgertons.”

“The Bridgerton name is strong enough to weather scandal,” she said. “We have to work a bit harder. And making an appearance in society again, especially with Lord Cardew by your side, will help.”

You suppressed a scoff at the mere thought of him. You’d been granted such a reprieve from Lord Cardew because of Anthony’s influence, and while you were recovering, no one but family was to see you. But soon—very soon—he would be your entire life.

“That brings up another question,” your mother said wryly, and when you met her eyes she was giving you a very pointed look. “Are you still sure about this?”

No, you wanted to say. You couldn’t be less sure about Jonathan Cardew. But you’d dragged your family into this mess of yours, so it was your duty to fix it.

Plenty of women married much more dreadful men every year. You should have considered yourself lucky that a man of his breeding, of his standing was interested in you at all—especially after the season you’d spent distancing yourself from him and the scandal you’d caused.

“...Yes,” you finally said. “I am sure.”

Your mother sighed and said your name. “You are sure? You have not reached out to Anth—”

“There is nothing left between us,” you interrupted. “I know it is not the best situation, and I know it is my fault, but I am making the best of it. All I ask is that you support me. It is hard enough attempting to make my way through this world—I need my mother to be there for me rather than constantly pushing against it all.”

“...Of course,” she said quietly. “And I am so sorry that I have ever done differently. My dear, all I ask in return is that you understand me, as well as the decisions I make. All I want is the best for you, and I know that marriage is not what you desire, but there are things we must do.”

“Of course,” you said, and your echoing words spurned a small smile from her. “I am sorry that I have always fought you so much. All I could see was my hatred for any kind of union, but all I managed was hurting you and Father, as well as myself, and— and I cannot think of any apology that will be enough.” You shook your head with a mirthless laugh. “I’ve no idea how you put up with me for so long, truly.”

“I’ve never had to put up with you,” she said. “I realize I may not have done the best job at showing it, but— but I love you more than anything in this world. Everything I have ever done has been for you, my darling. You are the future of our name, and I know you will do an excellent job at carrying on our legacy.”

“Truly?” you asked softly.

Your mother nodded as she took your hands and smiled at you. “Truly. Nothing in this world can change my love for you. You are our greatest accomplishment.”

You swallowed the sudden lump in your throat as you smiled as well, and you pulled your mother into a hug. She reciprocated, and tears filled your eyes. You’d missed the comfort of her presence so dearly.

“I love you too,” you whispered.

“Are you alright, my lady?”

Your lady’s maid's words snapped you out of the stupor you’d found yourself in, and it was all you could do to attempt a smile.

“Yes, Julia,” you said. “Quite alright.”

Her brows furrowed as she draped a pendant around your neck, the cold metal turning your exhale slightly shaky. “Pardon my plainness, my lady, but you are not believable in the slightest.”

“You have been around me for far too long,” you said dryly. “I request another maid, one that cannot read me so easily.”

Julia offered a wry smile. “You are stuck with me for now, my lady. What is weighing so heavily on your mind?”

You stared yourself in the mirror as you turned the question over. It was not as easy to answer as it should have been, not when everything was so out of order. Not when you hardly recognized the reflection staring back at you, wrapped in orange silk and adorned in jewels courtesy of Lord Cardew.

You were not yourself—you were to be Baron Jonathan Cardew’s wife, a baroness and status symbol to hang off his arm and smile prettily, and Baroness Cardew was who stared back at you.

Only a few more balls remained until the season came to an end, and though Lord Cardew was doing your family an immense service by giving you a second chance, he did not want to wait much longer to make it official.

It was all planned out. Your relationship would truly enter the public eye tonight with your dances, you would promenade in open parks to have as many eyes on you as possible. He would call on you and your meager staff would be encouraged to spread rumors. Another ball would pass together, enough to hopefully weather some of the scandal you’d created, and then…

Then, he would propose.

You would accept.

And the fate you’d been so intent on avoiding would be sealed.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, blinking back the impending tears.

“I am nervous,” you admitted. “My decision didn’t exactly feel… real. Not until I was standing at the modiste getting fitted for this gown with one of Cardew’s maids. And all this jewelry…” Your fingers trailed across the raised designs on the pendant. “It makes it even more so.”

“I can only imagine,” Julia said. “He has certainly put in effort.”

“And yet it all feels hollow.” You moved away from the mirror and stopped in front of your vanity. The light blue reticule sitting near your jewelry box felt as if it was mocking you.

Julia said your name with a sigh. “You made your choice. You pushed him away.”

“I know,” you murmured, tracing the embroidery with your finger. “But feelings do not disappear so quickly.”

“He wrote letters,” she said. “After you moved from Bridgerton House to recover here, after I refused his calling on you for the hundredth time, he wrote letters and delivered them by hand.”

You picked at a loose strand of white thread on the purse, jaw clenched so tight you thought your teeth might crack.

“He told me he did not care if you didn’t want them,” Julia continued softly. “He just needed you to know how he felt.”

“This is how it has to be,” you finally said, voice shaking.

“And what makes you think that?” Julia challenged. “You believe you have to live a life of misery simply because half the ton does so in the name of reputation and riches?”

“Two things I no longer have any of,” you murmured. “Cardew’s pedigree is enough to get both back for my family. It is my duty, Jules, and I can no longer hide from it.”

Your lady’s maid looked at you with desperation in her eyes when there was a knock on the door followed by your mother calling your name. You nodded your permission and she opened it.

“Lady Worthing,” she said, curtsying just so to your mother. “I’ve finished getting her ready—I’ll give the two of you some time alone.”

“Thank you, Julia,” your mother said with a smile. She turned back to you, her eyes softer than ever as she moved forward and set her hands on your shoulders.

“My darling,” she said, “you look so beautiful. I did not lie when I called you the crown jewel of our family.”

You couldn’t help but smile at her compliment, trying to ignore the tightness in your chest. “Thank you, Mother. I’m glad I can make you proud.”

She murmured your name, turning you so you faced the mirror. You saw yourself more this time, feeling more assured with your mother standing behind you holding all the stars in her eyes.

“I have always been proud of you, darling,” she murmured. “Even if I did not show it in the best way. I love you more than words can express. I meant it when I said you are our greatest achievement.”

You let out a shaky breath, leaning back against her. She allowed you to sink into her and you felt the tears brimming in your eyes.

“...I’m afraid, Mother,” you whispered. “To marry. To be a wife.”

She was silent for a moment, busying herself with adjusting your jewelry before she spoke.

“I was afraid too,” she admitted. “I hardly knew your father outside of a few promenades, and one lovely bouquet of flowers. It was almost fully arranged by our parents. But when he proposed, he vowed to always be my friend, and to always take care of me.”

“Has he?” you asked.

“Yes,” she said. “We did not love each other on our wedding day. But he has always been kind to me, and he has always advocated for me, and we have always been there for each other. We love each other now, in our own way. And,” she smiled, smoothing down the lace on your sleeves, “together, we brought you into the world. I would do it all over again if it meant I would get you in the end.”

You could not imagine considering Lord Cardew a friend, nor the opposite. He saw you as just another pretty jewel to adorn himself with.

Anthony saw you as a friend— as more. He always listened to what you had to say, always entertained your jokes with some of us own, never talked down on you. He saw you as an equal.

“I do not know if any woman is prepared to marry,” she finally said. “Even those that marry for love still have initial doubts. There are so many expectations of our behavior when we are told so little of what we must actually do.”

“How do you do it?” you asked. “You married a man you didn’t know. You raised a child. You held face against a society that shamed you for only having a daughter.”

“All you can do is trust in yourself, and in those around you,” she said. “If you are with the right person, everything will feel as natural as breathing. You will not care what anything thinks of you, because there is only one opinion that matters.”

There was one man you felt natural around, one who you felt you could speak your mind around and not be judged. One man that you’d fallen in love with, that surely hated you in return for what you’d done to him.

Your voice came out as little more than a whisper. “What should I do, Mother?”

“You know what you must do,” she said softly. “All I can do is support you.”

You’d rubbed your palms on your dress at least fifteen times since you’d arrived. A fruitless effort, considering you were wearing gloves, but you could not stand still.

Your conversation with Lord Cardew had taken everything out of you, your dance with him even more so—an especially damning fate seemed ahead of you. But you could tune him out well enough, at least.

It was an entirely different deal when the Bridgertons showed up.

Violet walked in arm and arm with Anthony and Benedict, and Colin had a loose hold on Eloise. And to make matters worse, Daphne Bridgerton, alongside her husband the Duke of Hastings, were making an appearance. What an honor, to have the chance to embarrass yourself in front of such highly ranking nobles.

Eloise branched off immediately after they passed the threshold, much to the protests of her mother, but your mother immediately pulled you in their direction. You could only imagine her thoughts—if she could get the Duke of Hastings touting for the Worthings, that would make things much easier.

Anything for the optics, you supposed. But when you met Anthony’s eyes for the first time, you had to avert your gaze. He just looked so damn sad.

“It is good to see you again, Violet,” your mother said. “And it is an honor, Duke and Duchess Hastings.” The both of you curtsied, and you could see the Duke’s slight smile.

“I consider it my honor to meet the woman who has been the center of such conversation this season,” he said. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, and thankfully Violet stepped in.

“It is good to see you as well, Cecilia.” Violet smiled as she looked at you. “Especially you, my dear.”

You bowed your head. “Thank you, Lady Bridgerton, Duke Hastings. I am grateful to be here.”

Benedict smiled, the notion warmer than anything you deserved. “You look lovely, Miss Worthing. Especially for someone who escaped death with such recency.”

Anthony’s eyes remained on you the entire time, and more than anything you wished you could read this mind. The man probably hated you, and he had every right to do so. You just wished your feelings for him weren’t so insurmountable.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and smiled as believably as you could. “Thank you, Mister Bridgerton. You also look well.”

Your mother nudged your shoulder and your gaze met Anthony’s once more. He still hadn’t looked away from you.

You bowed your head once more. “Lord Bridgerton. It… is good to see you.”

No wonder you actually ended up falling in love with Anthony. It was the only way anyone could believe this ruse—you were quite an awful actress.

Anthony lowered his head as well, his poise stiff. “A pleasure, Miss Worthing.”

“We’re glad to see you’re doing well,” Violet said, her smile a bit thin. You could only imagine the conversation that would occur between her and your mother later. “You caused us all quite a scare.”

“Oh, Anthony was so worried,” Daphne said, pressing a hand to her chest. “I’m thankful we have the chance to attend this ball so I could see you in person.”

“I’ve recovered well,” you nodded, and you looked at Violet. “My family and I thank you immensely for your kindness and your doctor’s care. We’ll be in your debt endlessly.”

“There is no need for that,” Violet said. “It is enough that you are still here.”

Your cheeks burned but you tried to smile anyways. You wanted to burrow into a hole and never come out. It seemed the Bridgertons were capable of endless grace in public when they surely had to despise you.

“Eloise has run off somewhere over near the strings,” Benedict provided in the silence. “I’m sure she would appreciate your companionship tonight.”

You glanced at your mother and she nodded, and your smile at Benedict was much more genuine. “Of course. I’ve been meaning to talk with her.”

You mouthed thank you to him when your mother could not see, and he nodded. He’d always been so decent to you.

You could not help but glance at Anthony as you went, and his gaze followed you. He would resent you if he had any sense, but it seemed the opposite—the sadness in his eyes was fatal.

You took a glass of lemonade from the refreshments table when you passed it, needing something to do with your hands. You found your way to Eloise’s side soon enough, and her eyes lit up when she caught sight of you.

“It is so good to see you,” she breathed. “I’ve only just arrived, and I’ve already had to fend off suitors. They just cannot seem to understand I hold such little care for them.”

“I am just as glad to see you,” you admitted. “I do not think I can get through this night alone.”

“I cannot imagine why,” Eloise said sarcastically. “I’ve heard the news. And I must say, it is your poorest decision this season.”

Your laugh was mostly out of surprise, and you nearly dropped the flute of lemonade you were holding. You were on edge far more than you expected—you almost wished your glass was full of champagne.

“At least somebody is speaking plainly,” you murmured, your gaze distant and unfocused. “I think the rest of your family must hate me, but they’re all too kind to say it.”

Eloise frowned. “Why would any of them hate you?”

Your grip tightened on your glass. “Because I caused an immense scandal and then ended things with Anthony?”

She huffed a laugh, her eyebrows now rising. “Our family has weathered many a scandal, and we are still here. Or have you forgotten how Daphne’s dearest husband chose to court her?”

“That is different,” you insisted.

“I think it is worse, actually,” Eloise said plainly. “Simon is a duke, and Anthony nearly killed him before Daphne knocked some sense into him.” She chuckled and shook her head. “Truly, it was a disaster. We Bridgertons have a knack for them.”

“As do I,” you said with a loose laugh. “I was stabbed, Eloise. I nearly died in your brother’s arms.”

“And we nearly died in our drawing room,” she said. “Anthony, most of all. He cares for you immensely.”

“Surely he cannot,” you insisted. “Not after what I’ve done.”

“I am not blind,” Eloise said, “and neither are you. So do not demerit our intelligence and pretend as if you do not see it.”

“I— I know.” You wrapped your arms around your midsection, and you grimaced as the jewelry on your wrists brushed against your skin. You were covered head to toe in finery that didn’t belong to you, and you itched from the inside out. “But I don’t know where to go from here.”

“It’s quite obvious, isn’t it?” Eloise looked across the room, where Lord Cardew stood talking to your mother, and then over at her brother, who couldn’t have been less interested in the lady trying to strike up conversation with him. Then her gaze fell to you. “You’ve got a choice to make.”

“I’ve already ruined things,” you murmured. “I— I can’t just back out of this.”

“I can tell you that you certainly haven’t ruined things with my brother. And Lady Whistledown’s speculation is the only thing binding you to that lecher.” Eloise shrugged. “You’ve already broken off one courtship. What’s another?”

Your eyes met Anthony’s from across the room. Once again, he’d already been looking at you. You averted your gaze quickly, feeling the heat rush to your face, and you tried to steady your breathing. He had no right to still have such an effect on you.

“I need some air,” you murmured. “Will you—”

“Of course,” Eloise said. “You are simply touching things up in the powder room.”

You nodded your thanks and slipped out of the ballroom, finally able to drop the facade you’d been trying to uphold. You truly felt as if you were overheating, and the cool air was hardly of aid once you reached the outdoors.

Everything was all wrong—your dress, this damned tiara, the bracelets and the necklaces and every jewel that Cardew thought he could buy you with.

It all belonged to him. You would not be another prize on his shelf.

You couldn’t help yourself. You began to shed the jewelry as your pace sped up, ripping bangles from your wrists and pendants from your neck—by the time you reached a deserted area of the gardens, you were considerably lighter and considerably close to tears.

You let out a frustrated sob as you slammed your fists against some artistic stone structure. It earned you nothing but pain, but it grounded you in some strange way. You tore off your gloves and threw them to the ground, a shaky breath escaping you as you screwed your eyes shut and pressed your palms to your forehead.

You could not marry traditionally, you could not follow through with your feelings for Anthony, and now you could not follow through with this ill-advised plan.

Were you truly this useless? To bring ruin to two families with your knack for destroying things for it all to amount to nothing? You waxed poetic about the life you thought you deserved to live, about going to university and gaining your independence and never marrying, and yet here you were, near tears in the gardens of the ball you were meant to reenter society at.

“Miss Worthing.”

The whispered words blared through the silence, and you knew who it was without having to turn around. It still sent a shock through you, your breathing faltering for a moment. Your eyes stayed shut.

“Why are you here?” you asked, your voice watery.

“You do not know me if you think there is anywhere else I would be,” he said.

“How did you find me?”

“I followed the trail of jewels. You’ve left an awfully expensive path in your wake.”

“All of it is worthless,” you mumbled, finally letting your hands drop. “It all belongs to Lord Cardew.”

“You’ll have made a magpie very happy.”

“Enough with the jokes,” you said. “Why are you here?”

“Why do you think?” Anthony asked with a slight laugh.

“I do not know,” you responded. “That is why I asked.”

“I am here because I want to talk to you,” he said. “You cannot just avoid me for the rest of the season.”

You turned away. “I can try.”

“I will not let you,” Anthony enunciated. “I will not let you make the biggest mistake of your life because you believe it is your duty.”

“If you are here to change my mind, you are wasting your time,” you said stiffly.

“I don’t believe I have to do anything,” Anthony said. “It looks as if you’ve come to the conclusion yourself.”

“And what makes you think that?”

“You have not even glanced in Cardew’s direction this entire night,” he said. “You’ve been looking at me instead.”

“Because I have felt your eyes on me with every moment.”

Anthony huffed. “Can you blame me? This is the first time I have seen you since that night.”

“Then you should remember my words from that night,” you bit out.

“Why are you so intent on pushing me away?” Anthony begged.

You scoffed. “Why are you so intent on bothering me?”

“Because I cannot stand here and watch you marry another!” he exclaimed.

Your brows furrowed and you turned around. Anthony stood in front of you, his outfit impeccable but not at all looking put together. Desperation colored his eyes, and you saw how truly undone he’d become.

“I— I thought I could, but I cannot.” He shook his head, a muscle working in his jaw as he glanced away. “Every moment you are in the vicinity of that man is a test of my strength. And I do not know how strong I am.”

“I don’t understand,” you said hollowly. “You should hate me.”

“I could never hate you,” Anthony murmured. “I thought I could, when you first told me of your plans, but— but I could hardly even dislike you.” A wistful smile tugged at his lips as he shook his head. “My mother had been bothering me for nearly a decade to find a wife and settle down, but I thought love was a fool’s game. I would have my fun as a bachelor, and then settle down with the most advantageous match. There was no need for further emotional baggage—when you love, you can lose. And I refused to lose again.”

For a moment, your heart stopped in your chest. He lost his father, he nearly lost you, and then you pushed him away like he meant nothing.

“Anthony—” you whispered, but he shook his head.

“Please,” he said. “I have a lot to say.”

You nodded, and he did as well.

“Our deal was perfect for that. You were nothing but my sister’s nuisance of a friend—a bad influence that I could never see as more.” You could not help your soft laugh, and Anthony’s smile turned a bit more genuine.

“But then we spent more time together. I… truly began to know you.” He shook his head with a chuckle. “You shattered every preconception I had of you. I began to look forward to our meetings, to our promenades—I would get home from calling on you and could think only of the next time I would see you.”

“Throughout it all, you made me realize I was worthy of love,” he said. “You— you made me realize that I wanted it. That I wanted you.” His throat bobbed, and you could see his eyes glistening. “That I loved you.”

You could hardly find the strength to speak. You felt as if you could melt into a puddle at his feet just from his words. You were so intent on avoiding Anthony because you couldn’t stand the thought of hurting him anymore— you believed he would be better off without you, without the scandal you’d dragged him into.

But he… he loved you.

He loved you just as you loved him.

“I do not expect you to share any of my notions, and I know you value your freedom more than anything,” Anthony murmured. “So if it is not me you wish to be with, I understand, and I will accept it without complaint. I just beg of you—do not become that wretched man’s wife.”

All you could do was stare at him for a moment more, words beyond your reach before you finally managed to speak through your emotions.

“I tried to tell myself the exact same thing,” you said softly. “That you could not be happy with me. That I could never be happy chained to another—truly, that I could never love. Not when freedom is what I have always desired most. But Anthony…” you moved forward until you were mere centimeters apart, unable to suppress the shiver that ran through you at the proximity, “I have never felt more free than when I am with you.”

“Miss—” Anthony started, but he paused and shook his head before saying your first name instead. His eyes were softer than anything. “Are you truly…?”

“I could never fathom you sharing my feelings,” you said thickly. “That is why I pushed you away. But I love you, Anthony Bridgerton. And I think I have loved you for quite some time.”

You swallowed the sudden lump in your throat, turning away so as to not betray the fullness of your emotions, and though you opened your mouth to provide some excuse, you were not granted the chance.

Anthony’s hand encircled your wrist, pulling you back around, and just as soon did you feel his lips against yours. The tightness in your chest dissolved almost immediately as you all but fell into him, Anthony wrapping his arms around you to support you as your hands found purchase on anything they could.

Your focus became devoted solely to the feeling of him, his soft lips against yours even as they plied for access. Anthony held you as if his only desire were to protect you from the world, and it made you feel a way you’d never even imagined. Only when air became a necessity did he pull away, his labored breaths in contrast to the pure adoration in his eyes.

“Never in a thousand years did I think you would feel the same,” he murmured, his hands cupping your face on either side as he gazed into your eyes. “I thought myself a fool, falling for the one woman I could not have. You’ve no idea the relief it brings to hear you share my feelings.”

“I suppose I am just as foolish as you,” you breathed. Your heart felt as if it could burst.

The corners of his lips quirked up in a smile. “I cannot imagine what my mother would think—that after so long spent searching for a wife, I fell for the one woman who never wanted the title.”

You let out an airy laugh, relishing the feeling of his skin against yours. “Nor did I see myself falling for the one man who resented the chains of marriage as much as I.”

Anthony pressed his lips against yours once more, and your hands traveled up until they tangled in his hair. You kissed until you were nearly breathless, but Anthony still managed to pull a very unladylike sound out of you as he bowed his head, kissing down the line of your jaw, your neck, until his teeth nipped your skin just above your decolletage.

“Anthony,” you gasped, clenching your fingers as they buried themselves further into his dark locks. You had never been this close with a man before, never this intimate — you never thought you would even desire it.

But Anthony lit a fire inside of you that only he could quench, and yet the only thing he seemed to do was stoke it further. It was equally maddening and dizzying, the control he so effortlessly had over you.

“I never knew how much I would delight in hearing you say my name,” he murmured, his lips trailing against your skin. “No more Lord Bridgerton, I beg of you.”

“I should think I’d like to hear you beg—” you breathed, but Anthony cut you off yet again as he pulled you into another searing kiss. You could hardly stand it anymore as your hands fell down to his shoulders, and you pulled away for just a moment as you began desperately undoing his waistcoat, Anthony taking the hint and removing his jacket.

“These buttons were not designed with the needs of a lady in mind,” you huffed in frustration, fumbling fingers failing to make progress, and Anthony chuckled breathlessly.

“Have we finally found something I best you in?” he asked, and you rolled your eyes with a smile.

“Just take it off.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that all?”

You groaned as you looked at him. “If you insist on teasing me this way, Lord Bridgerton, I shall go back inside and act as if nothing has happened.”

“There is no need for idle threats,” he defended, and you bit back your smile. Anthony made deft work of his waistcoat, and the second he tossed it aside he was back on you.

“Besides,” his voice was a whisper a millimeter from your ear, and warmth blazed in your core, “I believe I told you to call me Anthony.”

“And I believe you should have to try harder than that.” You smiled into his kiss as you trailed your nails down his back, the thin fabric of his dress shirt doing little as you felt his involuntary shiver.

“You’ve no idea the effect you have on me,” he groaned, once again dipping his head as he peppered even more kisses down your neck, sliding down the sleeve of your dress to allow himself better access.

The night air on your newly freed skin did little for you, any coolness of the breeze instantly negated by the heat of Anthony against you. Your nails dug into his back as he moved down, each spot where his lips touched your skin erupting with fire.

You gasped out his name, barely able to handle it—the feeling was so foreign yet familiar, as if you had been waiting all your life for Anthony in this way.

You could hardly believe you nearly lost it of your own accord.

“It appears I do not have to try hard at all,” he said, “the way you cry out for me.”

You laughed breathlessly, though his words were indeed true. You knew, in this moment, that you would do anything for Anthony Bridgerton—and he would do anything for you. “How I fell for a man as irritating as you, I haven’t the slightest.”

You caught the slightest glimpse of his grin before he ducked his head yet again, and he had only just begun pushing both sleeves of your dress down when a woman’s voice could be heard behind you.

“Anthony— oh!”

The unfamiliar voice struck fear into your heart you had never felt the likes of before. Anthony moved away from you quicker than you’d ever seen, you just as hasty as you tugged the sleeves of your dress back to where they belonged and attempted to smooth out everything that Anthony had so easily sullied.

You’d never imagined this was how your reputation would be ruined, with Anthony Bridgerton in the gardens of some ball, but when you finally had the sense to look and see who had caught you in a most uncompromising position, you could hardly stifle your incredulous laugh.

“Sister?” Anthony questioned in disbelief, so many emotions warring on his face you had to turn away to cover up your growing grin.

“Anthony,” Daphne greeted in kind, fighting to conceal her smile as her eyes drifted to you. “Miss Worthing.”

“Your Grace!” Your shaky fingers were hardly of use to you as you pulled your gloves back up to where they belonged and once again ran your hands down the skirt of your dress to smooth out the wrinkles. Your cheeks burned under her gaze and you were innately aware of the fire underneath your skin brought about by Anthony’s touch in contrast to the cool night air. “What brings you here?”

“Mother was quite… nervous about tonight,” she explained. “She indulged in one too many glasses of champagne, so she is taking her leave with Benedict for aid. She requested I find you to alert you of her departure, but it seems she was not the one whose disappearance should have been questioned.”

“I’m sure you know this is quite compromising.” Thinly veiled amusement crossed Daphne’s face as she eyed you pointedly. “I am afraid you must marry him at once Miss Worthing, else I shall have to duel you to protect my brother’s honor.”

You laughed breathlessly as Anthony looked up at the sky, his face turning a deeper shade of red than you had ever seen. “Your Grace, are you suggesting that I have ruined him?”

“Indeed I am,” she confirmed, and you could see how it took every muscle of her being to retain a serious image. “This is not a light matter, miss. I do not understand why you are laughing.”

“Daphne,” Anthony groaned, avoiding her eyes as he occupied himself with his jacket. “Why do you insist on being a nuisance?”

“Anthony,” she inflected his name the same way he did hers, “I cannot have this woman sullying your name! I know it was of no will of your own, but this can not stand as is. But do not worry; I am prepared to defend your honor to my last breath.”

“My sincerest apologies for what I have done, Duchess Hastings,” you responded gravely. “I am prepared for pistols at dawn.”

Anthony huffed as he buttoned his waistcoat back up then went to retrieve his jacket from the bushes. “You exaggerate, the both of you. This cannot be what I was like last season.”

“You were worse, brother. But do not worry,” Daphne said with a grin, “I should think a taste of your own practices is only fair after all you put Simon and me through.”

Anthony sighed with a slight roll of his eyes. “I… suppose… that it is what I deserve.”

“Thank you, brother,” she said. “I only wish we had a witness just so your confession is forever remembered.”

“I wish Mother had not sent you to seek me out,” he responded dryly.

You and Daphne exchanged smiles with each other before your expression sobered slightly. “ I ask quite a bit of you with this, Your Grace, but… may I count on your discretion? I know we jest, but my reputation truly could not handle something like this. I do not know if…” you glanced at Anthony before looking back to her, “if we are yet ready to seal our union.”

“Of course,” Daphne nodded, and a relieved smile tugged at your lips. “I shall not tell a soul.”

“Thank you eternally, Your Grace,” you expressed, but at your short curtsy she shook her head.

“Please, call me Daphne.” She offered a smile of her own, slightly coy. “After what I have just witnessed, I’ve no doubt you will be joining our family soon enough.”

“Sister!” Anthony scolded, and when you glanced at him his entire face was dusted pink, even the tips of his ears. It was enough to make you swoon. “You cannot just say things whenever you see fit.”

Daphne merely shrugged, joyfully indifferent to her brother’s protests. “I outrank you now, dearest brother — I believe I can say whatever I see fit, particularly when it is the truth.”

“You are truly impossible,” Anthony muttered as he shook his head.

Daphne just smiled before she looked back at you. “I believe it best if the two of you leave at separate times, so as to not allow room for any rumors. Miss Worthing, you should go first and return to your mother; you can claim you simply needed fresh air. Anthony and I will stroll around the grounds for a bit before allowing ourselves to be seen — we are simply catching up after such a stretch spent at Clyvedon.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath as you smoothed your mussed hair and wrinkled dress for the last time. Anthony certainly did a number on you, in more ways than one. “Thank you again, Your—” you caught yourself, correcting your error with a small smile, “Daphne.

“You may count on me in the future whenever I am in London,” she reassured. “It is my hope anyway that I shall be able to welcome you to the family officially.”

“Daphne!” Anthony exclaimed yet again, glaring at her. “Might you take your leave so we may have a moment alone?”

“I believe you just had quite a few moments alone,” Daphne said, but a pointed look from her brother had her conceding with a smile. “Alright. I will be by the trees when you need me.”

Anthony turned to you with an odd look in his eyes when Daphne was out of hearing distance, and when he did eventually speak, his voice was far softer than usual.

“Do you truly believe I would not marry you?” he asked, and the underlying hurt in his voice did not go unnoticed. “Even if there were not the risk of a scandal, I would not hesitate. My entire heart lies with you.”

“It is not you, Anthony,” you sighed with a slight shake of your head. “I do not… I do not know if I am even capable of marriage.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I have spent my entire life running from it,” you said, chuckling softly, “and yet, here I am, the one thing I never thought I would be.”

“In love,” Anthony realized, and you nodded.

“It has always been easy enough to denounce marriage when I’d never experienced anything of the like. The union of my parents was for convenience rather than love, and for as long as I’ve been alive my mother has tried to drill it into my head that my feelings did not matter — so long as the man had the means to provide for me and was not completely awful, he was satisfactory.”

“A future like that— it was so completely absurd to me that denouncing it all was the easiest thing in the world. And then I nearly died and my entire world changed, and I decided that Cardew was the best option to allow myself to completely separate emotion from marriage, but now…” you looked at Anthony, feeling more vulnerable now than ever. “I have found a love in you I’ve never thought possible, and I cannot stop imagining a life with you. And that terrifies me more than anything.”

“But…” you trailed off again and you turned away from him as you wrapped your arms around yourself. “But I do not know how to approach my future, especially one where we are so closely intertwined.”

Silence hung in the air for a noticeable period before Anthony cleared his throat, and it was obvious the care he put into his words.

“You know I never imagined I would marry for love. Truly, I never intended it—I expected to be miserable in marriage. I saw it as nothing more than another duty to take care of. I believed that love was trivial, a ridiculous distraction. You are the one who made me see differently.”

You turned around with slightly wide eyes, your arms wrapped around your midsection doing little to ward off the cool night air that seemed far colder than it was before. Anthony’s gaze never left yours, the softness in his own at odds with the pure, unbridled passion.

“I love you. Though I have only just allowed myself to accept the fact, you are someone that I cannot imagine living the rest of my days without. There was…” his throat bobbed as his voice crackled slightly, “there was a moment when I feared the worst, that you would permanently disappear from my life. And ever since you were all but brought back from the dead, I have known that you are the only woman I wish to be with. It is why as soon as I left you, I asked my mother for this.”

Anthony took a box out of his pocket, and you gasped as he got down on one knee, your hands flying up to cover your mouth.

“This is the ring my father proposed to my mother with, and their love was beyond anything I have seen before. But it is the love that I feel for you, something so strong, so overwhelming— something I never thought I would experience. And yet here I am, madly in love with the one woman who scorned me with every word, and only pursued me because of my brand as a lesser evil.”

A laugh bubbled out of you, the sound slightly muffled through your gloves, and you could not help it as your eyes began to fill with tears.

“I admire you; all of you. The part that loves her family with every part of her being, that looks out for those with less than her when those more fortunate turn a blind eye. The part that fights for the rights of her sex when it is so much easier to just bow one’s head, that puts her happiness on a rightful pedestal— the part that is so terrified to share herself with others and yet deserves a love of the purest form.”

“And I am aware of how the unknown is a fear of yours, as it is one of mine. But I assure you—” Anthony’s voice was filled with such passion, his eyes with such love, that you could hardly stand it, “—I will be there for you every step of the way. We will face our fears as one, and we will shape the future ourselves, not to be bound by anyone or anything.”

“I do not know where my future will lead me, but I know I do not want to face a single second of it without you. If you do not feel the same, I understand, but I will not be able to live with myself if I do not at least try. It is why I ask you,” Anthony said your name with more love than ever before, “will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you sobbed, a smile breaking across your face even as tears of joy streamed down your cheeks. “Yes, yes, I will marry you!”

Anthony let out a sigh of relief as he grinned, and after he slid the ring on your finger he stood up and pulled you into a breathless kiss. Nothing picture perfect like you’d heard about as a young girl, the kind of effortless gentleman’s act— Anthony kissed you with pure passion, love, desire, and it nearly brought you to your knees. You thought it would have, were it not for Anthony’s strong arms wrapped around your waist, pressing you against him and supporting you.

You could hardly believe the same man who treated you as if you were glass after your injury was the one standing before you now, the one who handled you in such a way that could get the both of you exiled were anyone to see—the one that you thought hated you.

And you were more than willing to allow it to continue, to surrender yourself fully to your baser instincts, when you remembered something that made your eyes widen.

“Your sister,” you murmured between kisses until you finally managed to pull away, albeit reluctantly. “Daphne is still waiting.”

Anthony laughed breathlessly as he pulled you back in, and your earlier protest was shown to be completely nonsensical. “Let her wait.”

You grinned as he peppered kisses down your neck, enjoying the sensation until you pushed him away. “Anthony.”

He groaned. “Why must you be a better person than I?”

“Believe when I say it pains me,” you said. “But the last thing we need is yet another scandal by my hand.”

“Let them know,” he said, taking your hands in his. “Let all of London know that I love you, that we will be wed. I do not care what we have to face so long as we face it together.”

“The thought has never been so tempting,” you murmured. “But you should at least alert your sister. It would be improper to make her wait out here all night for nothing.”

His grip tightened on your hands. “So you do wish to leave together?”

“Anthony, I just accepted your proposal,” you said with a laugh. “I wish to spend the rest of our lives together.”

“I believe tonight is a good place to start, then,” he grinned.

Anthony would not let you leave his side, so you went to Daphne together. First she saw your smile, then her gaze drifted down to your hand—she looked knowingly at her brother, though she could not hide her smile either.

“It would appear as if I was right,” she mused. “I am always right when it comes to you though, Anthony, so it is not much of a surprise.”

“Do not mock me,” Anthony said. “I could have left you waiting by the bushes all night.”

“If you had not proposed to her after the conversation we had the other day, I would have questioned your sense,” Daphne said. “Trust me, I would not have been here long.”

Your eyebrows rose. “What conversation?”

“We do not need to start on this,” he said with a pointed look at his sister. “I have already bared my entire soul tonight. I do not need my sister embarrassing me further.”

“Oh, I would never,” Daphne drawled. “After all, there will be plenty of time for us to gossip together when I come to visit you all.”

“Won’t you be busy with your child?” Anthony asked.

She shrugged. “You may be busy with one as well by the time I see you again.”

You looked at Anthony only to find his gaze was already on you. There must have been some shred of doubt in your eyes, because he only took your hand in his.

“I meant what I said,” he murmured. “We will take things as slowly as you desire.”

You swallowed the sudden lump in your throat and nodded as you squeezed his hands—you knew what was expected of you as a wife, and you wanted it with Anthony, but you could not lie and say that his reassurances did not bring you relief.

“My best wishes to the new Viscountess Bridgerton,” Daphne said, her voice full of affection as she clasped her hands together. “It is an honor to have you join our family.”

“It is an honor to be accepted,” you said, bowing your head.

Daphne smiled. “I assume you want to reveal this on your own terms.”

You nodded. “I’ve dealt with enough attention from the ton lately.”

“I am afraid to say that will not go away,” she said wryly. “But I will cover for the two of you.”

You pressed a hand to your chest. “Thank you.”

“It is only proper to welcome my sister in such a way,” she said with a wink, and you could not help but smile. “Now run along, you two. Before rumors start.”

Anthony chuckled, and the two of them embraced before you started on your way.

“Viscountess Bridgerton,” Anthony murmured in your ear. “I love the sound of that.”

You hummed in agreement. “As do I.”

You laid your head on Anthony’s shoulder as you walked back with your hands intertwined—not to the ball, but to a carriage for the promise of time alone. You glanced over at Anthony and he smiled, and you pulled him to a stop as you pressed a kiss to his lips. He responded with hunger, the same vigor he displayed when you first stepped into the gardens together, and you could hardly believe he still had it left in him.

Far too many minutes passed as you kissed and kissed and kissed, not a single care in the world of someone catching you. What could they do? You’d already endured enough scandal to weather anything, and there was no way to punish you and Anthony — you were already engaged.

Your lips were sure to be bruised once you finally pulled away, Anthony gazing at you with complete adoration as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I cannot believe you are to be my wife,” he murmured.

“I cannot believe you are to be my husband,” you breathed. “When will we reveal it?”

“Tomorrow,” he said, intertwining your hands with his own. “Tomorrow, we will tell everyone, and we will deal with everything that comes along with it. But tonight…”

“It is our secret.”

Anthony nodded. “Tonight, we start the rest of our lives together.”

“The rest of our lives together,” you murmured.

Truly, it sounded like a dream. Months ago you could not even consider the thought of marriage without an air of disgust—now, here with Anthony, you could not stop thinking about the fact that you were to be his wife.

The rest of your life with Anthony would be anything but simple.

And yet, somehow, you could not think of anything more perfect.

taglist, only bc this series has been going on since i still had a taglist lmao. @ifilwtmfc @readers-post @fangirling-galore @funkydinosaurs @baby-i-am-fireproof @mess-is-my-aesthetic @likeballet @mdkfh @brezzybfan @magical-spit @lafy-taffy @miss-celestial-being @mercurysrhapsody @evilsailorsenshi @mainstreambitchlife @aangsupremacy @chloepluto1306 @lostaudfound @panhoeofmanyfandoms @blhemmings @my-acrylic-heart @seninjakitey @vlodi @arianagrandes-things @preciousbabypeter @youraliendaddo @stupidlittlebei @illuminwtesz @eringaitskill @otheliesstuff @users09 @chloepluto1306 @lady-loki-barnes-djarin @m-rae23 @the-horror-and-the-wild-simp @diemdurantia @theyoungestchild0w0 @mschievousx @alwaysreading1019 @ibelieveindragons141 @pretzywetzy

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton fic #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fic #anthony bridgerton fanfic #x reader #bridgerton imagine #sadie writes

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mariasont · 2 months

Note

hi !!!!! i love your hotch x oc x reid fic so much, literally got to work late because you updated and i just HAD to read it when the notif came in !

can i request a kinda fluff-y turning to smut fic about maybe reader's small hands compared to spencer's large hands (his hands are so INTOXICATING).

maybe the fluff part can be kinda cute with their first time holding hands starting from that "oh lets compare hand sizes" and then intertwining fingers?? one of the best spencer fic tropes/hcs is when he's usually not enthusiastic abt touching but when its You he loves it and hes been so touched starved DHSKDHHD // and then the smut can kinda be like how reader's hands make his dick look huge (or smth! im sorry this is my first time requesting a fic!!)

i hope im not coming out as being too demanding !! you can have all the freedom w this !!!! sorry sorry for the long request 🙈🙈🙈

love your work !!! 😙

HANDS, HANDS, and HANDS-------------

A/N: AHHHH your mind!!!!! I LOVE IT <3

we need a whole episode just dedicated to his hands fr!

thank you so much for requesting and the kind words, I hope I did it justice <3 xoxo

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ minors dni, hand kink, praise, size kink, m receiving oral, take a shot every time someone says sorry

wc: 1.9k

Your infatuation with Dr. Spencer Reid was an open book to everyone--damn profilers--well, everyone except the man of the hour, Dr. Reid himself. It was hard to say when it all started. Subtle changes crept in--the extra care you took in choosing your outfits to work; the way words suddenly became hurdles in conversations with him; the sensation of your heart nearly leaping out of your chest anytime he was in the vicinity.

Despite your skills as a profiler, deciphering Dr. Reid was like trying to read braille through gloves. So, you pushed those feelings down, crushing them beneath a metaphorical heel to maintain professionalism. It wasn't exactly a successful strategy, but that wasn't the point. You reassured yourself that even if romance wasn't in the cards, friendship was the next best thing. And what a friend he was--remarkable in every way, which is why you found yourself here, in his apartment, dissecting case files together. It was a friendly gesture, surely, to escape the office when it becomes a little too suffocating.

You felt your pulse race as he brought his fingers to his lips, preparing to sift through the stack of papers. A dryness clutched at your throat, fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of your skirt, while you're sure your eyes betrayed a cartoonish adoration, practically orbiting with hearts. Forgotten was your own paperwork that now served as a makeshift blanket for your thighs, as he spoke. Your arm claimed the territory along the back of the couch, with your own hand gently propping up your check, a picture of relaxed attentiveness.

In the midst of his lecture about the golden ratio and its prevalence in nature, Spencer suddenly grabs a nearby book, flips to a diagram of a human hand, and says, "Did you realize that our hands are a prime example of this phenomenon? Give me your hand."

Your eyebrows knit together, your head angling subtly towards the boy genius. "Sorry, what?"

Without a word, Spencer lays your hand upon the diagram's expanse. Amidst the book, your hand seems smaller, delicate, a stark contrast the bold lines drawn on paper.

He looks at you with a soft smile. "See, the size of one's hand doesn't really correlate with the golden ratio--it's more about the proportions within the hand itself. For instance, the length of your fingers compared to your palm, or the distance between the tip of your thumb and the tip of your pinky stretched out."

His hand leads yours across the pages, but you're barely registering the words. Instead, you're acutely aware of the warmth of his touch, causing your thighs to clench on their own accord, your mind tumbling over itself.

"Your hands are actually significantly smaller than the average," he comments, almost to himself. The statement is harmless, yet he finds his imagination wandering. He quickly refocuses, saying, "The range of hand sizes is quite broad, which is interesting biologically. Here--"

He extends his hand, palm open, beside yours--a natural extension of your conversation, yet he shifts slightly against the couch. Spencer was taken aback by his own actions. Physical touch was something he generally recoiled from, but here he was, seeking yours out. He realized this had become a habit, finding reasons to be near you, to feel your touch. Anytime there was something to be handed to you at work, he was quick to volunteer, all for the fleeting possibility of a brush of fingers.

He watched, captivated, as you aligned your palm with his, matching up the bottom of your palms. His attention was drawn to the stark difference between your hands; his, significantly larger, seemed to engulf yours entirely. He found the sight unexpectedly compelling. The disparity in size stirred his curiosity, leading him to wonder how your hand would look clasped around his cock.

His thumb grazed the back of your hand in a subconscious motion as he pondered out loud. "Did you know," he began, his voice sinking an octave, "that the ratio of the lengths of our second to fourth fingers is believed to correlate with various hormones, affecting the way we interact with others."

You found yourself holding your breath as you mapped the shape of your hands together, a subtle dampness beginning to form between your legs. This is what got you worked up? Clearly, you mused, getting laid was overdue.

As if guided by a force beyond your control, your fingers gradually intertwined, each finger fingers its perfect counterpart. Recoiling as if from a burn, you realized the intimacy of the gesture, a rush of apologies escaping your lips. "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to-"

A blush crept up Spencer's neck as he hastened to interject. "No, no, it's completely fine, really."

The moment passed, and you both redirected your focus to the paperwork. Yet, the routine task did little to dispel the residual thoughts of his touch. The size difference, the feeling of his larger hand wrapping around yours, and how ideally his fingers would look pumping inside of you or wrapping around your throat. It all kept playing on your mind, a silent movie that you can't stop watching.

Spencer too, seems lost in thought, his gaze drifting from the files to your hands--manicured and delicate. He watches, seemingly without awareness, as those same hands idly toy with the hem of your skirt, or the way they spin your earring when deep in thought. To him, these minor actions have suddenly become fascinating.

Spencer's voice cuts through the stillness as he resumes his concentration on the work before him. "How do you interpret this?" he probes, touching a finger to a page of the file perched on his lap.

You lean in, curiosity leading you to reach for the file. Your actions freeze momentarily as your knuckles brush against his crouch. You pause, blinking deliberately, as you second-guess what you felt. He was hard as a rock.

You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks, eyes growing wide with surprise. "Oh, um, sorry," you muttered.

In a rapid movement, Spencer combed his fingers through his hair, causing the curls to obstruct his view. He snatched a pillow and tossed it in his lap, tilting his head back against the couch with a look of embarrassment. "No, I'm sorry, I, uh--"

Anticipating a scholarly lecture on the male hormones, you quickly interject. "Do you want help?"

Spencer's eyes grew wide as he regarded your face. Your lashes fluttered with a slow blink, your demeanor completely serious. His traced the flush of your cheeks, the gentle parting of your lips, the accelerated rise and fall of your chest. His head tilted slightly, expecting the punchline to follow.

He let out a puff of air. "Do I want what?"

He noted your head tilting to the side, mirroring his own actions. Your hand reached forward, poised to replace the pillow on his lap. Your pinky dragged across the material of his jeans, moving with excruciating slowness.

"That seems painful," you comment quickly, before your sudden courage fades. "Let can help."

You moved swiftly to his belt, and you could hear his breath hitch in short bursts. He murmured your name, his hand threading through your hair to grasp gently at the nape of your neck.

You shot him an innocent smile as you edged his pants down, just enough to access his boxers. Your smile made him believe he could come on the spot--the way you looked so eager, like you had been waiting for this. He let out a shaky breath as you released his length from his boxers.

You were engulfed in a dizzying feeling, your eyes widened to saucers as you seized his massive cock. "Holy shit, Spencer, you're huge."

You were barely aware of the words tumbling from your lips as you gawked. The impact on him was immediate, the intensity of your graze was maddening. Your small hands encircled his base, accentuating his size. His grasp on your neck grew firmer as he coaxed your head down.

"Don't play," came his growl, so out of character. Warmth bloomed in your face, excitement bubbling in your chest as your thighs clasped together.

You flashed him a gentle, unassuming smile as you hastily took him in your mouth. You felt like a new person, an unprecedented need flowing through you.

Spencer let out a sharp hiss as your lips met his cock, taking him as far as you could. He mentally thanked whatever gods existed, unsure of what he had done to deserve this. His hands deftly collected your hair in his grasp, aiding you in guiding him even deeper. His breaths hastened as he praised, "Good god, baby."

His words only egged you on, your movements turning sloppy as you bobbed up and down, working every inch of his cock. You never knew sucking a man off could be so enjoyable. You wanted to savor the moment, to savor him. You encircled the based with your other hand, granting yourself reach to what had been inaccessible to your mouth as you started to synchronize your movements.

"Look at you," Spencer muttered hoarsely, his gaze flickering to your hands. Those damn hands, they looked so perfect around him, even better than he imagined. "You look like you were made for this."

You moaned around him in response, the slickness between your legs starting to drop down your thighs upon his praise. This elicited a hiss from him, tightening his grip in your hair as he drew you away from his throbbing cock, spit trailing from your mouth as you separated.

"Wha-?" Your question hung in the air, marked by the crease of your confusion on your forehead.

He didn't let you finish, simply stating. "On your knees."

Without hesitation, you followed his direction, your hands clasped in anticipation as you moved from the couch to the floor, your balance settling back into your heels as he towered over you. "Open."

You complied with his command, easing your jaw as he guided himself onto your tongue. A soft moan escaped you, enveloping his cock. He coaxed his length into your mouth, your hands steadying on his thighs as he all but used your face.

Spencer's hands cradled your face, fully encompassing your cheeks as he thrusted into your mouth. His pulse thundered at a pace he hadn't thought possible, and fuck, he wouldn't mind if this was how death welcomed him. There you were, on your knees, so compliant around his cock. His breaths grew rapid as your nails trailed up his thighs.

"You're so good," he muttered, eyes casting down upon you, your glazed expression, the drool peeking out from the corners of your lips. "So good. 'M so close."

He moves to withdraw from your mouth, but your hands find their way to the back of his thighs, holding him in place, denying his escape. He exhales a deep, unrestrained moan, thrusting into your mouth once more, shallowing moving as the warm liquid fills your mouth.

He gazes, spellbound, as you swallow his come completely, your head lolling back in total bliss. In that instant, he realizes his willingness to do anything to keep you close, to see you like this--spent, disheveled, and content.

Breaking the silence, you ask, "Did that help?" His laughter, soft and subdued, fills the air as he reaches out, cupping your cheeks once more. He descends to meet you, his kiss messy and desperate, finding the taste of himself lingering on your lips as his hands untangle your knotted hair.

"You're amazing," he exhaled, their lips parting. "Now, let me return the favor."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #mgg #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds fic #criminal minds smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you

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permanentswaps · 3 months

Text

Breaking Eric’s Trust Pt. 2

Read Part 1, written by vice versa swaps, here.

Will:

After the swap, we walked back through the parking lot and Bryce drove me back to my new home. My new body was much leaner than I was used to, making me feel a bit disoriented as I walked through the door. But I couldn't deny the appeal of Bryce’s youthful a physique – even if it was very different from the heavy muscles I'd worked for decades to build on my own body.

Entering Bryce’s room, I took in the surroundings and decided to try my hand at some sketches.

"Let’s see if this really improves my art skills," I thought to myself.

I quickly found myself engrossed in the creative process, a feeling I'd been craving to get back to. As the sketches took shape, I couldn't help but admire the dexterity of my new hands.

Distracted, I gently traced my fingertips along the veins of my opposite hand. Slowly I traced up my forearm and to my bicep, which I flexed. I then moved my hand over to my muscular chest and grazing my new sensitive nipples. I raised my arm to flex in the mirror and thought to myself “This body may not be as strong as mine, but it’s hot as fuck. Why would Bryce ever want to give this up.”

Hot and bothered, I retreated to the bathroom where I stepped into the hot shower. Felling the hot water falling across my back, I lowered my right hand to my cock while feeling my muscles with my left.

“I’m so fucking sexy. I’m so fucking sexy.” I growled to myself, before eventually cumming across the shower wall. As I came down from climax, I shook off the thought, reminding myself I’m only borrowing this body.

Just as I finished up in the bathroom, my phone rang – it was Eric, asking to hang out. When Eric arrived, I greeted him with a smile, trying to act casual.

"Hey, Eric! What's up, man?" I, now in Bryce's body, said, attempting to sound as natural as possible.

"Not much, man! Just figured I'd swing by and see what you're up to," Eric replied.

I chuckled, "Oh, not much. Wanna play some Call of Duty?"

The two of us settled into the gaming setup, controllers in hand. As we played, I couldn't help but marvel at the experience of hanging out with my son from a different perspective.

In the midst of the gaming session, I saw this as my opportunity to ask about things I wouldn’t normally know about.

"How are you feeling about going away to school?" I asked, trying to keep the question casual.

"A bit nervous, but I’m mostly excited and ready to get out of the house – date some hot girls. I am worried about my dad though; it's gonna be tough for him to be alone like this, I think," Eric replied.

I felt a twinge of sadness at Eric's response but turned my focus back to the game.

Changing the topic, Eric asked, "How about you, how are you feeling about the gap year?"

I hesitated for a moment, then replied, "I'm not sure if it was the right choice, to be honest."

"Well, at least in a year, you'll still be off to college. Then, we’ll be able to hang all the time and you'll have your pick of all the guys there," Eric said with a playful grin.

I smirked to myself, "Yeah, that'll be great," before indulging in a brief fantasy about what it would be like to live Bryce’s life in college instead of just here at home.

Bryce

A week had passed since we visited the lab, and Mr. Sullivan and I had gotten surprisingly good at mimicking each other's mannerisms and habits. As we were packing up the car to move Eric up to campus, he casually asked, “Would it be alright if Bryce came with us to drop me off?”

“I think that’s a great idea,” I responded, happy to not let Mr. Sullivan miss out on this big moment.

The three of us drove up to campus together, joking and listening to music the whole way. We grabbed a quick bite to eat before walking around the campus and bidding an emotional farewell. Mr. Sullivan, in my body, teared up a bit, to which Eric laughed and said, "Don't worry, dude. I'll FaceTime you all the time," before playfully punching his shoulder.

As we climbed back into the car to drive home, I realized this was the first time Mr. Sullivan and I had been alone together since the swap.

"How are you doing?" I asked, glancing at him.

"Alright, I guess. I'm just really going to miss him," Mr. Sullivan responded, a hint of melancholy in his voice. "The other night we were hanging out, and he told me he was worried about me, or you now, I guess. He thought I’d be lonely without him, and damn, I think he’s right."

"Oh, really? I'm sorry to hear that. But at least you know he cares," I said, attempting to offer some consolation.

"Yeah, I guess," he sighed.

"And hey, you've still got me," I added playfully, reaching over to place my thick, callused hand on his thigh. I gripped the steering wheel with the other hand, feeling the warmth radiating from him. It was clear he was blushing, and I couldn't help but smirk.

We pull into the driveway and stumble into the house. I pinned him up against the wall in multiple spots, and we shredded our clothes as we went. I was enjoying the virility of this body – I was strong before, but never like this.

Tossing my former body onto the bed, I asked, “What do you want me to do to you.”

Looking up and biting his lip submissively, Mr. Sullivan asked, “You know the other day at the lab when I said, ‘you can do whatever you want with my body when you’re in it.’” I nodded. “I really meant anything,” he said.

After loosening him up with my fingers, I rolled on a condom and began to slide myself into my former body’s tight hole. It had been a while since I had taken anything this big, and I could feel the tightness around my new cock. Yet, something wasn’t cutting it.

After a few minutes of fucking, I growled “Daddy wants to feel all of you, I hope you like it raw,” growled before taking off the condom and sliding back in. The ecstasy was almost too much to handle and we climaxed together shortly thereafter.

The next morning, I woke up in bed, feeling the warmth of sunlight filtering through the blinds. Stretching and yawning, I rubbed my face, the rough texture of a beard grazing my palms. Glancing to the other side of the bed, I saw Mr. Sullivan in my body still peacefully asleep.

As great as last night was, a slight twinge of remorse tugged at my emotions. The idea of betraying Eric's trust weighed heavily on my conscience.

Deciding to focus on the present, I smiled softly before leaning over and gently kissing Mr. Sullivan on the cheek just like he had done at the swap labs before we had exchanged bodies. As Mr. Sullivan stirred awake, I greeted Mr. Sullivan with a warm smile.

"Good morning," I said, still getting used to a deeper voice. "Sleep well?"

Mr. Sullivan rubbed his eyes and sat up. "Yeah, surprisingly well. This body of yours is quite comfortable."

I chuckled, "Glad to hear it,” before diving back in to start round two.

A few months later

Over the course of the fall, Bryce (we’d begun to refer to each other using our former names) and I navigated the complexities of each other's. I was pretty successful in fighting my lonely streak, having met a lot of new friends at the gym and through my new local softball league.

Meanwhile Bryce was also working out like crazy and had flourished in his artistic pursuits, getting admitted to an art fellowship program that he could do for the rest of his gap year.

Hidden from prying eyes, our secret relationship also continued to thrive. Even though we didn’t tell Eric, he still clocked the positive change. A few weeks ago, during a Facetime call after a particularly enjoyable afternoon session with Bryce, he teased, "Wow, Dad, you're looking great. Honestly glowing... what … or who … have you been getting up to?" I laughed it off in the moment, but as time dragged on the weight of lying to Eric grew heavier on my conscience.

Finally, it was now the day before Thanksgiving break, meaning that Eric will be home tomorrow for the first time since we dropped him off. While Bryce had been up to visit him a couple of times, I still hadn’t seen him in person for months.

I invited Bryce over to the house, ready to figure out what to do. We laid together on the bed. I sat leaning against the headboard and some pillows and his head rested gently on my bare chest.

"I gotta level with you, Bryce. I'm feeling really guilty,” I said, using my thick fingers to stroke Bryce’s torso through his halfway unbuttoned shirt. “I'm not sure I can keep up this lie to Eric much longer," I confessed.

Will, his expression thoughtful, suggested, "Well what if we just came clean to him now?"

"No, if we did that, I don't think he'd ever trust either of us ever again," I replied.

"We could swap back now," he proposed tentatively, a look of disappointment flickering across his face.

Pulling his lean body in closer to mine, I smirked. Nibbling on ear I said in a raspy whisper, "You wear that ass way better than I ever did, no way in hell am I going to make you give it up."

He looked at me, blushing, and I continued, "No, as much as it kills me, I think we need to end our relationship."

Will nodded, another look of disappointment flashing across his face before he replied, “Alright Will, if that’s what you really think is best.”

“But before we do, I need to feel my tight ass one last time,” I growled.

I got up and moved to his side before finishing unbuttoning his shirt. Then, gently running my hands from his torso around to his lower back, I motioned to take of his pants and briefs.

As I ate out his ass, I could feel my beard scratching against his smooth cheeks. Once he was loose, I got on my knees, raised his legs over my shoulders, and slid my raw cock into his tight hole.

After what feels like hours of fucking in every position imaginable, he’s finally riding on top.

Throwing his head back in ecstasy at me he moans to himself, “Oh fuck yeah. Fuck yeah. This body is so fucking hot.” Feeling himself up, he continues, “This is all mine. I deserve this. I am such a fucking hot hunk.”

I look up at him, a twinge of nostalgic regret washes over me. But as quickly as that feeling arrives, Bryce looks down at me and says, “Oh yeah, and it’s all thanks to you Will.” A naughty smirk crossing his face he continues, “Tell me how much you want me.”

Picking up the pace of my upward strokes I grunt, “Fuck yeah Bryce, you’re so fucking hot.”

“Fuck right I am, say my name again” he yells back.

“Unghhh Bryyyyceeeee,” I moan. “Take that dick, Bryce,” I grunt, grabbing his cock.

He leans over moaning, “Oh fuck yeah Daddy, I’m cumming” before kissing me and gently stroking my sensitive nipples.

That is enough to send me over the edge, coating his insides with my seed as we cum simultaneously.

Basking in the afterglow, I feel my meat still throbbing deep inside him. “Well even if we can’t be together, I still hope we can do that every once in a while,” he said, continuing to feel up my sweaty, muscular torso.

Biting my lip, I reply, “I don’t see why not.”

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indigosunsetao3 · 3 months

Text

Protecting You

Your life, or safety, is threatened in front of one of the COD guys. How do they react to that?

Female reader perspective Warning: Unwanted advances, assault, roofie, torture, abusive ex

I noted each blurb for what would be featured for each person. Please make sure you check that before you read it.

Alex Unwanted Advances

"I'm fine really," you mutter as the man next to you at the bar insists on buying you another drink. You had turned him down twice now, sipping lightly on the still half-full glass you had.

"Come on, just one drink and if you think I'm that bad I'll leave you alone," he prods, waving the bartender over.

"Or you could leave me alone now," you tack on, looking over your shoulder for someone, anyone, to rescue you.

"Two of whatever she's having," the guy orders over your protests to the bartender to not make you one. The bartender doesn't catch it though, too busy helping the crowded bar and the music a little too loud to really hear.

"See not so bad," the guy grins before reaching out to grab at your hand which you quickly snatch away. "Oh come on, I'm not going to hurt you," he teases and reaches again.

"I believe she said she wasn't interested," a cool voice says from behind you. Looking over your shoulder you see another man on your left, leaning lightly on the bar glaring at the man next to you. He looks simple enough. About your age in a casual shirt and jeans but something behind his easy smile reeks of predator. Not for you though, but for the man who won't leave you be.

"It's none of your business," the guy snaps trying to literally grab your attention again by grabbing at your arm. "We're perfectly fine."

That's all it took. In the midst of you twisting away and telling the guy to just stop the man intervenes. He grabs your harassers wrist with lethal speed and twists it hard so his whole upper body contorts with the movement into the bar.

The glass from the drink your rescuer had just finished coming down to slam on the man's fingers. Hard enough that the glass shatters and the guy shrieks in pain as the stranger continues to hold the grip right on a pressure point.

"This should teach you to keep your hands to yourself," the man states, sliding his hand away to wipe on the small drink napkin. His movement so casual as if this were normal for him.

"Are you fucking crazy!" The guy yells dragging his arm back and staring at the bloody sticky mess of his hand. The glass shards had nicked a few of his fingers and he was screaming about how he would fuck you and this man up. Meanwhile the bartender was summoning the bar security not wanting a full on brawl to start and before you knew it all three of you were tossed out.

"Sorry about that," comes your rescuers voice as you both watch the other man head down the street with a few of his friends. "I couldn't sit there and listen anymore. I didn't mean for you to get kicked out into the cold," he grins a bit, then shivers as the wind rips right through both of you.

"No need to be sorry," you answer simply looking at him. "You didn't have to do that you know. But thank you..." you pause for an invitation for him to give you his name.

"Alex," he says with a small smile. "And no need to thank me. I wasn't going to just sit there and let him continue to hound you."

"Alex," you say with a nod trying to commit the name to memory. You doubted you would forget it though.

"Is your car around here?" Alex asks suddenly staring across the street. The men had stopped at the street corner and were watching the two of you.

"Ah, I walked from work," you answer. "I don't live too far," you tack on following his gaze to the men. "I'm sure it'll be fine..."

"I'll walk you home," Alex says after a second. "Or get you a taxi. I don't want you out here alone with them." He turns to look at you giving a small smile as you look up at him. "I promise I'm not a creep," he laughs a bit.

"We....we can walk," you venture after a second. "I feel like I owe you a drink after all that anyway. I think I've still got some left over tequila in the back of my cabinet." You aren't sure exactly why but you feel like you can trust him. "And if I thought you were a creep I'd be gone by now."

"You don't owe me anything," Alex says with a laugh before gesturing you to walk before shoving his hands in his pockets. His eyes sliding over to the men across the street to keep them always in his view as you go. "But I wouldn't turn down a nightcap, though tequila can be dangerous." He winks as you both hustle to cross the street.

Yes it can be, you silently agree with a small thrill.

Gaz Assault

Maybe staying to watch one more episode was a bad idea. You really should have let your friend drive you home but you lived all the way across town and the train would be there soon enough. So tucking your purse tight against your side you head toward the train station. It's dark out, darker than normal since it's a new moon, and the shadows seem extra long as you hurry down the street.

When you round the corner to the alley you'd normally take as a short cut you spot a group of people halfway down it The alley cut five minutes off the walk and was usually fine by day, just dirty. But at night it was ominous and the people standing on the end blended a little too well into the dark. You debated on what to do before deciding to just walk through. You knew the area, knew how to handle yourself and it was cold.

Just as you pass you realize it's a group of about four men and the minute they realize you are alone it starts. The catcalls, the jeers, the simple 'where you going sweetheart?' questions. You've heard them all before and the best thing to do is ignore it and keep walking. But they follow. You mutter a no thanks, you're fine and every other placating thing you know to do. But it doesn't let up.

Just as you're about to clear the alley a hand juts out to grab you by the back of your jacket and you scream. They've dragged you back and are taunting you about being rude and they just wanted to talk. Your reactions a bit slow thanks to the wine you had drunk but you shove them back and one hit on a man's chest lands hard enough that a guy goes flying backward. You blink trying to figure out how you managed that until you realize someone else had shown up.

In a series of grunts and groans the men are swiftly dealt with. One having to be hoisted up by his friends before they all jog out of the alleyway. You have your back pressed up against the wall as your savior turns to look at you and you flinch a bit not sure what they want. If he was able to take on four guys on his own who knew what else he could do.

"You alright?" The man asks as he straightens his jacket and looks to where the attackers disappeared to.

"Yes, I think so," you stammer out as you wipe at your face not realizing you've been crying. "Thank you, where did you even come from?" You ask looking around to spot a door open and now that you aren't screaming you can hear music coming from it.

"I was headed out for a smoke when I heard you," the man answers. "I'm inside with a few friends. Do you want to come in and join us? Get warmed up a bit, it's freezing out here," he gives you a soft smile as you continue to press your back against the wall.

"I was on my way to the train station," you start but the warm yellow light of the restaurant seems to be beckoning you. Walking the rest of the way to the train station seemed like a monumental task now and you were afraid to be alone.

"I take the train myself," he answers. "Come in for a bit and we can go together, yeah?" He gestures for the door where another man has poked his head out to see where his friend had gone missing.

"I, ah," you hesitate for just a second longer. "Sure alright," you finish as the man in the doorway looks between the two of you.

"Everything alright out here Gaz?" The guy asks, his Scottish accent strong, as he takes in the scene.

"All good," Gaz answers as he follows you to the door. "Just dealing with a little issue," he explains and in the light of the door you can see his knuckles are bloody as he gestures you inside.

"A little issue?" You almost squeak as he grabs a few napkins from the bar top and wipes his hands down. "You took on four men...for a stranger."

"I wasn't going to just leave you out there," Gaz replies with a small smile. "Besides, that was barely a warm up," he winks and pulls a chair out for you to join his group of friends who are all watching your curiously.

Ghost Roofie

You've had way too much to drink. It was a celebration party for your friends recent job promotion and it was so rare you let your hair down you decided to go all out. It had been a bar crawl, wandering from one loud crowded place to the next. By the time you got to the fourth place (maybe it was the fifth place?) you were stumbling a bit.

Giving the bouncer your ID you swayed a bit in your spot while he looked it over with his flashlight and eyed you. After a second he nodded to let you in and you slipped inside. This place was packed, people jammed up against one another as the music blared and by the time you finished your latest drink you were feeling light headed and most of your body was numb.

"Careful," a voice says next to you as you sidestep and nearly fall. Hands had caught you around the waist and you look up at the man who was grinning at you. Who was he? Fuck where had your friends gotten off to? "I think you may need to sit for a minute," he suggests taking the empty glass from your tingling fingers and you nod. Yes, sitting would be good.

"I just need to find my friends," you say as you look around the place but it's just a swarm of bodies, their faces all a blur. "Let me just," you start reaching for your phone.

"Let's get you outside where it's cooler then you can call them," the guy says, his arm still tight around you. "You're very flushed," he gives you a sweet smile and you nod again. You really did feel overheated, maybe that's why you felt so dizzy and uncoordinated.

You let the guy guide you toward the door before a hand shoots out of nowhere blocking the exit to the alley. You blink once, twice, swaying a bit as the guy helping you walk halts. This second man is huge, impossibly huge, as he holds his ground glaring at the two of you. It takes a second to register then you realize exactly who it is. You hadn't seen him in a while and your brain was so muddled the connection almost didn't click.

"Simon?" You ask, laughing a bit at the odds of him being here of all places. "When did you get back into town? Where's Johnny?" You inquire looking over your shoulder expecting to see your friend standing there. You giggle a bit as you lose your footing again but Simon's hand catches your bicep.

"I know what you fucking did," Simon says and you splutter. You hadn't done anything, what was his problem? Then you realize he isn't talking to you, he's talking to the guy that was attempting to lead you outside. "And so do the bouncers," he nods his head at the guy that had been working the door pushes through the crowd toward you all. "You're lucky there are too many witnesses or I'd snap your goddamn neck," Simon breathes as he pulls you toward him as the guy lets you go finally. The malice in his voice sends a shiver down your spine and you try to figure out why Simon was so mad.

"Let's go, love," Simon says after a second pushing the door open to the alley as the bouncer grabs the guy you were with. "I'm going to take you home," he explains as he sees you staring at him confused. "With me," he adds after a second as you continue walking, "you shouldn't be alone right now."

What did that even mean? You'd recovered from hangovers just fine in the past. Sure, they were miserable and you laid on the bathroom floor for hours but you were very much capable of paying for your poor decisions. You don't have a chance to question though as your surroundings start to spin. You groan a bit beginning to feel sick, the fun of being drunk was rapidly fading and was instead replaced by a sickening unease.

Time and memory seemed to warp and next thing you know Simon is tucking you gently into the passenger seat of his car. He's already got the engine running and cool air is blasting on you helping to dissipate some of nausea. It takes you a second to realize his hands are holding your face up to stare at him. His face his a hard mask as he assesses you and you feel him reach for your pulse, his fingers cool against your flushed skin. He's not happy with what he finds based on his reaction.

"Simon?" You ask a bit pathetically as your hands reach for him to grip his shirt. You know something is definitely not right and now the fear is settling in. Your lip trembles as you try to lock in your focus but everything feels like it's slipping away like holding water in your hands.

"I've got you," he answers, not flinching as you grasp at him. "You're safe with me," he assures you as his hand pushes your hair off your face where it had begun to stick to the sweat there.

"I know," you reply even though you barely knew him. You'd only met him a few times when Johnny brought him back on his leaves. You had been intrigued by him but he always stayed an arms length away. Friendly but closed off. Johnny said that's just how he was when you asked, though you caught the mischievous look he gave you when you asked about Simon a few more times.

"How did you..." you mumble, your fingers twisting up the fabric on his chest to hold on tight. You were afraid if you let go you'd just fall into the nothingness that was threatening to take you under.

"Johnny told me you were going out with friends tonight. I wanted to see you again," he ventures knowing you won't remember all of this in the morning. "I lost track of you in that stupid bar and by the time I found you again," he pauses to keep his temper in check, loosing a calming breath. "I should have said something sooner to you. Not let you be alone."

"I wanted to see you too," you let slip before shutting your eyes as the drugs finally took you under.

Price Torture

The mission had gone absolutely sideways. What should have been a relatively simple extraction turned out to be an ambush and you had lost two team members. They had opted to take you captive instead of killing you, hoping to get information out of you.

Four days of psychological torture. No sleeping, every time you tried they'd wake you up with loud noises after only twenty minutes. Only enough food to keep you from passing out and barely any water. The room they held you in was freezing and wet, no bed and a bucket for waste.

Perhaps the worst part though was the absolute silence. There was no noise aside from the damned dripping pipe that kept your room damp. You couldn't hear planes, cars or even a bird. The only way you knew time had passed was watching the shadows move across the wall from the small slit of a window a few feet up the wall.

You were supposed to check in with Price, he was the rendezvous drop off for your target. So, despite your team being dead, there was someone out there that knew you were missing. That was the only thing that kept you hopeful for a way out.

On day five the leader of the group enters your cell with an ominous look on his face. You don't back down as he grabs your shackled wrists and slams you down on the chair he's brought in. You twist and fight as one of his men ties you down earning a sharp slap across the face.

"Tell us about John Price," the man demands as he squats down to get in your face.

"I," you pause confused, "what?" This was not what you were expecting to be questioned about. "What about John Price? What does he have to do with me?' You question feeling your heartbeat kick up a bit.

"You were meeting him, tell us," the man demands as he fishes a lethal looking knife from his pocket and flicks it open. "Tell us and I'll make it quick," he smirks as he traces the knife slowly down your arm with just enough pressure to make a small stream of blood appear in it's wake.

"I don't know what you want me to tell you," you answer still a bit perplexed. "He's a man? He's a Captain?" Another resounding slap snaps your head sideways and you taste blood as you work your jaw before sitting back up again. "You need to ask better questions because I don't know what you want." You have an idea what they may want but there was no way they were getting anything out of you.

"Funny," the man says as he grabs your jaw to shake your face and pulls your focus back on him. "Tell us why he was involved in your extraction."

You don't give it up though. The men continue to abuse you, cutting at your skin, battering your face and nearly suffocating you with their hands only to bring you back right when you are about to pass out. It hurts to blink and you spit out a mess of drool and blood when they finally relent for now. The shadows on the wall are long so you know they had been at it for hours.

They leave you tied to the chair and you tilt forward trying to get some sleep. You were hoping they were occupied trying to decipher your run around answers to not notice you were taking a nap. Your sleep is deep but it doesn't last long as a hand lifts your head back up from where it was lolled against your shoulder. You jolt up in the dark and flinch back from the touch.

"It's me," a man says as you blink in the dark groaning a bit. "It's John," the familiar deep gravel of a voice clicks into place and you unclench the fists you had made unconsciously.

"John?" You splutter out trying to look around the room. It's too dark for you to see anything, the stark opposite of how they usually kept it in their methods of keeping you awake. "How'd you know where I was? " You pause realizing you also had no idea where you were. "Where am I exactly?"

"They picked a shit location to try and hide you," he says with a small chuckle as the tip of metal knife slides around your wrists to cut the bonds away. "Abandoned oil field, too open and easy to gain access," he says as he bends down to undo your feet. "Team's got the guards at the gates occupied for a few more minutes," he says before you hear the rustle of him putting the knife away. "Can you walk?"

"I think so?" You mutter as your hand reaches up to touch your puffy eye before you flinch at how tender it is. "They mostly focused on my face, don't need that for walking." You try an attempt to joke but based on Price's silence it falls flat. You can feel the anger roiling off him, though his touch is soft as he surveys the rest of your body for injuries. His fingers brush over the tender skin of your throat and you know it has to be black and blue with how rough they had been.

"How many are there left?" You ask as you rally your strength to stand up, you'd be no help in a fight right now. If you were quick maybe you could sneak out without anyone being the wiser.

"None left in this building," Price says as he gently grabs you under the armpits to help you stand. You look at him shocked, there were at least ten of them that you knew of. Once you're fully standing you grab his clothed forearms to steady yourself. You can feel something warm and wet on your fingertips, without seeing it you know it's blood. "Hunted the whole crew down before I came to find you. Amazing what a halligan can do to some skulls," he says darkly.

"Alone?" You ask as Price tucks one of your hands into the strap of his vest so he can guide you. You can hear him raise his gun as he moves out of the room. The thought of him taking on the men that killed your team by himself sends a jolt of fear down your spine. The risk alone was too great, especially since they were hunting him specifically.

"I do know how to take care myself," Price answers though there is a hint of amusement in his voice. "Couldn't wait on the team to catch up. I wasn't going to leave you in here another minute with them, love."

Soap Abusive Ex

"Get out!" You yell as your ex storms into the apartment from where he had hidden waiting for you to open the door to get a delivery. He's ranting and raving about indiscretions you made against him. How you screwed him over and were the reason he was failing at everything in his life. Everything was your fault, it was always your fault, and he was here to finally put a stop to ruining things for him.

The text to Soap had been quick, a subtle message sent with just two words. Help me. You didn't bother reaching out to the authorities, they never helped. Always saying there was nothing they could do despite the fact your ex had been escalating. First it was simple calling and texting nonstop. Then the letters shoved under your front door. Moving onto showing up at your job so security had to escort him out. Now this.

"What is this?" Your ex asks as he pulls a hooded sweater from underneath the blanket on the couch. Soap had stayed over nights when you had been afraid to be alone, sleeping on the couch. It was innocent, mostly, because you were too afraid to try and move on. Not that it mattered if it wasn't, you and your ex had been over for months. "Who's is this?" He advances on you.

"It doesn't matter," you answer backing up against the dining room table. "You need to get out of my house right now," you argue looking over his shoulder.

"It's his isn't it?" He shakes the hoodie at your face as he gets uncomfortably close. "That fucking Scot that I told you to stop talking to," he shoves you.

"What does it matter?" You fight back before gasping at the shove, the table biting into your lower back. He pushes you again before shoving you bodily to the floor to hover over you. "Please, just get out," you say as you try to back peddle on your hands to put some space between you and him.

"I'm not going anywhere," he snarls and moves to grab you by the hair when the front door bangs open. Five minutes. Soap got to you in five minutes. You weren't sure how he was able to get there in that short amount of time but you don't question it.

Your ex paused to look over his shoulder at the noise and that was enough time for Soap to clear the living room and grab him. He's hoisted up and back by the collar of his shirt and bodily tossed away from you. Soap moves to stand between you and him. A silent form of protection as he looks at the man who's on his ass staring at Soap with murder in his eyes.

"I wouldn't try it," Soap warns the guy with a small smirk as your ex stands back up and forms his hands into fists. "I've been waiting for fucking weeks to do this. It's only because of her you haven't had your ass handed to you before now."

You've stood up now, rubbing absently at your back as you keep your distance behind Soap. You're terrified as Soap cocks his head to the side assess the situation. It's not fear for Soap's safety, you know he can handle himself, but because of everything that just happened. Your ex doesn't take the warning and lunges for Soap.

It's over in a matter of seconds. Soap has him pinned on the ground with his knee in your ex's neck. Your ex is spluttering on the carpet with a bloody lip and busted nose, his free hand scrambling for purchase while Soap twists the other one behind him.

"I'm sorry, I can't fucking hear you," Soap hisses as he bends his head down closer to your ex's face. Your ex is actually squealing with pain as Soap twists his arm further back. If it goes any more you know the shoulder will pop out of the socket and you wince. This isn't exactly what you wanted, at least on a surface level. Yet you knew deep down calling Soap to help would somehow end in your ex receiving some sort of a beat down. Soap had been threatening it for some time now.

"I'm sorry! I'll go!" Your ex finally yells out before groaning as Soap gives his arm one last good yank before letting go and standing up.

"Get the fuck out," Soap says as he stands and moves to put himself between you and your ex again just to be safe. "And leave her alone. If I hear you keep coming round it won't be just me you'll have to deal with."

Your ex leaves with a slam of the door, muttering empty threats about calling the police. In the ringing silence you feel your knees buckle and you grab the table as you start to sob. It had all been so overwhelming and terrifying you don't know another way to process everything.

"Shh, lass," Soap says quietly, his tone turning into the soft gentle one that you knew. The aggressive Soap you had just witnessed was something he hadn't shown you. Sure you heard stories but seeing it live was a whole other story. "I'm sorry you had to see that," he says as he gently coaxes you into his arms and plants a kiss on the top of your head.

"Can you stay?" You ask after long minutes of silence as Soap rubs your back, still holding you. "I don't want...if he comes back," you mumble, the anxiety dreaming up different scenarios of him escalating it.

"Of course," he answers, "couch sort of has my name on it anyhow." He chuckles a bit spotting his sweatshirt there then realizes that's probably what set your ex off in a tirade. He had forgotten it that morning.

"Stay with me," you say after a second, letting him fill in that blank of what exactly you were requesting. "I don't want to be alone," you tack on in explanation as Soap raises his eyebrows.

It had been going this way for a while now but your fear of your ex had always put a stop to it. You'd been afraid of how he'd react and what he would do if he found out. Soap remained ever patient and understanding through it all and after tonight you were tired of waiting.

"Whatever you want lass," Soap answers but you can feel him smiling as he presses another kiss to your temple.

455 notes · View notes

pheonixgrave · 10 months

Text

Softer Now (18+)

Ahh! You guys seem to be really enjoying these. I realized I was just writing the same Tav so there's that

Warnings: Soft smut, definite voyeurism, a decent amount of blood drinking, Soft!Astarion, pre-Act III, post-Act II

“Aren’t you just a little jealous?” Karlach asked, joining Astarion near the stash of wine they found.

“Why would I be jealous of the walking encyclopedia?” He smirked, watching a certain elf interact with a certain wizard.

“Oh c’mon! He’s flirting with her and you two are a thing, right?”

“I find it rather charming, actually,” he took a swig of the awful wine in his hand.

The Tiefling looked from the vampire spawn to the pair looking over some old tome whose name no one else could pronounce. “Charming?”

“Let me tell you what I see,” he set the bottle down to face the barbarian. “To you and I, Gale is obviously flirting. In a very clumsy manner, but flirting all the same. Our fearless leader, however, has no idea. To her, he is as much of a friend as Wyll or Shadowheart. Yet, he keeps trying because he has no clue that she simply isn’t flirting back.”

“That doesn’t make you angry?”

“Of course not!” He laughed, “I can barely believe he managed to bed a goddess with how he flirts.”

“It does seem pretty out there, as far as stories go,” Karlach crossed her arms and continued to watch the pair.

“Anyways, I know there’s no competition.”

She smirked, “You do sound a teensy bit jealous.”

“My dear, I do not get jealous.” The more he thought about it, the more pause it gave him. Their resident wizard does try to hold her attention more often than he should. But Tav’s time was her own. He knew he had nothing to worry about. After everything they’ve been through, he couldn’t imagine her changing her mind at the last moment. Right?

Tav, on the other hand, was enjoying pouring over the old tome they had found. It gave some interesting insight into Illithids and their reasonings. Unfortunately, she was unable to read the language it was written in. She was thankful for Gale in that sense. Who knew he spoke Deep Speech? Granted it was written in Espruar but the script itself was odd. The wizard had helped her decipher a few pages about psionic energy and how they have mastered it. It truly was fascinating.

“This is nice,” Gale spoke from next to her. He was holding the dusty tome in his hands with the bard sitting near him, using her mage hand to scribble any notes she’s taken.

She looked up at him with wide eyes, “I suppose it is! I’m very happy we found this book.”

“It truly is remarkable,” he swallowed, “It’s also a nice excuse to spend more time together in the midst of all this madness.”

“Oh! I suppose it is nice to sit with everyone.” She didn’t fail to notice him scoot slightly closer. Just a hair between them now.

Gale closed the book and turned to look at the elf next to him. “I’m afraid I must ask you something.”

Something in Tav’s mind warned her to walk away. But she was still getting used to that voice, so she elected not to listen to it. This was Gale. This was her friend. “What’s on your mind?”

He grabbed her hands in his, “I have noticed you and Astarion getting rather close recently.”

Tav wasn’t sure how to react. She was already flustered by the sudden turn of the conversation. She was more than happy to keep speaking of the Illithid empire. “Where are you going with this, Gale?”

Gale’s eyes never left hers. It was like he was trying far too hard to bear into her soul and she simply…didn’t want him to. “I told myself it was casual, not a matter of the heart but…clearly I was wrong and it looks like I am the last to know. I know how close you two have gotten, I just thought you would show me the respect of telling me first.”

The Elf’s jaw dropped, “Tell you? Tell you what?”

“But you can tell me now. Who is it to be? Me or him?” The look in Gale’s eyes was nearly as serious as when he was told he’d have to become a bomb.

“What exactly am I choosing here?” Tav blinked, glancing down at the wizard’s hands that completely enveloped hers. It took her a moment before her brain caught up. “Oh! Oh, Gale! I had no idea you felt this strongly.”

A glimmer of a smile reached his face, “Well, perhaps I should have done more. Been more charming, more flattering, harder to reach…but I was only myself. Sometimes that just isn’t enough.” His face dropped looking at hers, “Whatever your decision is, I will respect it. But you must choose. You cannot have us both.”

Tav made a choked sound in the back of her throat before clearing it. “I don’t think this is a good idea. I think it’s for the best that we aren’t involved like that. I want to be with Astarion.”

“I see. I suppose he does have a certain charm about him, if you’re into that sort of thing.” He sighed, “I’ll just put my feelings to one side. I think that’s best for everyone. It’s certainly the best thing for me. I won’t leave, unless you want me to. Or until fate forces my hand, your friendship is all we have. And I will be happy to have it, eventually.”

Tav’s heart broke for the man. It must be quite painful to not have those feelings returned. For a moment, she thought about what she would do if Astarion ever stops feeling the things he says he feels for her. And the thought almost brought tears to her eyes. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” she couldn’t hide the crack in her voice. But Gale was never going to be the cause of it.

“Worry not. I carry my regrets wherever I go and I am used to their weight. One more will not break my back.” He gripped her hands one final time before she pulled away.

She gave him a sad smile before walking over to where Karlach and Astarion stood. Grabbing the bottle from Astarion’s hands, she drank deep for a moment. They both glanced at each other before turning back towards the Elf. She handed the bottle back to him before smiling at Karlach, “Is there anything you have to admit to me? Any deep romantic feelings or attachment?”

Karlach laughed, “What? No, soldier!” She put her still warm hand on the much smaller elf’s shoulder. “You’re a dear friend. More than that, you’re family.”

Tav’s shoulders dropped, “Oh thank the Gods.” She turned to Astarion who was watching her with raised eyebrows, “Bed?”

The moment they were inside his tent, she buried her face in his chest with her arms wrapped so tightly around his waist. “Darling, what’s wrong? Did the mean mage say something he shouldn’t have?”

She didn’t want to pull far enough away to answer him. She didn’t want him to see her start to cry. She just shook her head and held him as close as she could. She wasn’t sure how to process these feelings. The vampire spawn just wrapped his arms around her trembling form.

“You don’t have to say anything, just nod your head. Did Gale hurt you in any way?” She could hear the growl in his voice. It sounded more dangerous than normal.

She pulled away with a deep inhale. She looked up at him with tears already streaming down her face. With a sniffle she whispered, “Gale admitted he had feelings for me, yes. But then I thought about how miserable life would be without you in it.”

Astarion froze, his body tensed. “So let me get this straight,” he swallowed, more nervous than he’s ever really been before. “You told Gale you’re not interested just to be with me? I do come with my complications, my love.”

She let out a breathy laugh, “I told Gale I’m not interested because I’m simply not interested.” Her hand reached up to stroke his cheek, “I just don’t ever want to imagine a life without you again. A world where you’re not with me. Because you’ve always been near, even if I didn’t know it.”

He remembers the night he told her about Cazador. The night he told her about the Szarr palace was also the same night she had told her about her tower. And how she could see the palace from her desk. It was true, they really have always been close in one way or another. “And you got that worked up because…?”

“I wouldn’t even know what I was missing,” she smiled at him, eyes still full of emotion. “You’ve been all of my firsts. First kiss, first night together. Hells, the first time I’ve held someone's hand was with you. This is all still very new to me. And the moment I thought about you not being with me I-” she let out a choked sob before gripping his shirt in her fists and burying her face in his chest once again.

For a moment, the vampire spawn didn’t react. It still takes him a moment to return affection but he managed to wrap his arms around the trembling bard. He swallowed before gently rubbing the small of her back. The thought of someone wanting him this badly was…daunting, to say the least. He knew if they had met before the nautiloid, he’d mark her as a victim. She was pretty and just naive enough to fall for him. Hells, he had even known her parents. Cazador loved having the city’s nobility over, but never her.

She was always the princess in the tower. Always there but never seen. Even Cazador had thought she was a mere rumor and nothing else.

For a while, he just held her while she cried. He wasn’t sure what else he could do besides hold her. Nothing he could say would comfort her. They weren’t even sure if they would survive this mess. So he pulled her closer. The rest of the night passed as they were wrapped in each other’s embrace. Soft, whispered words of a future sprinkled with hope. For the first time in his unlife, he had more than just hope.

The next couple of days passed uneventfully. They were only traveling, plain and simple. Onwards to Baldur’s Gate. Where all of their dooms or salvations lay. In the gloom of it all, Tav wanted some fun. She had gone to Shadowheart and pilfered some of her extra blankets with promises to replace them once they reached the city. As they set up camp yet again, she made her way towards the lake side. She laid out all of the blankets in a large square before finding the extra food she had squirreled away. And pulled out the best wine she could find. It was an obviously aged bottle still covered in a thick layer of dust, but the label looked fancy. She truly knew nothing about wine so she prayed to whomever was listening that it wasn’t swill. She then adjusted her bustier in an awkward manner before smiling to herself and searching for the vampire spawn.

He wasn’t hard to find. No one heard what she whispered in his ear. But they certainly noticed the fond smile and raised eyebrows as she dragged him away from the camp. Astarion looked at the little picnic she had put together, his hand in hers before kissing the top of her head. “And what’s the special occasion, darling?”

She smiled up at him, unabashed emotion in her eyes with a grin on her face. She was truly divine in the moonlight. She shrugged, “I just wanted to do something nice for you. We reach Baldur’s Gate in a couple days and we have to hit the ground running soon. I just wanted to take a moment, just for us.” She picked up the bottle of wine she had found, “I hope it’s okay. I know it’s old but I don’t know if it’s good.”

He smiled and pulled her close. “Aren’t you just the sweetest little thing?”

The tips of her ears flushed as he placed a gentle kiss on her lips. And then they sat and talked and ate and drank. They spoke about the Gauntlet of Shar, about the monastery, about the Moonrise Towers. And the conversation drifted to their party as Tav slowly became more and more tipsy. She talked about Wyll and his obvious daddy issues. Shadowheart and her love for more adult literature. And Astarion was all too happy to sit and listen to her. It’s one of the things that drew him to her, after all. She could read people like they were a book she was all too happy to read.

As the evening turned into night, the pair ended up against a nearby rock. Tav sitting on his lap as he peppered her neck with kisses. And as Tav’s giggles turned into soft moans as his hands started to travel to her waist. “You should keep quiet, my sweet, we wouldn’t want to wake the entire camp up. Would we?” He whispered before nipping at the base of her neck.

“I-I think you’d like that far too much,” she managed to gasp out as he helped her rock her hips back and forth against him.

He chuckled against her neck, leaving trails of almost bites with his fangs. “What ever makes you say that?”

“Astarion!” She moaned, grabbing the back of his head as he finally sank his teeth into her neck. She gripped his curls in one hand and dug her nails into his shoulder with the other. Her hips moved on their own as he slowly drank from her. His arms wrapped around her waist as he held her up. Between the wine and him drinking from her, she felt lightheaded. But that made the friction between them feel all the more intense.

“You always taste just so perfect, my love.” He slowly released her neck before slamming his lips against hers. He knew he was being needy but he craved her. As his lips melded against hers his nimble fingers went to work on the knots of her bustier. It never took him long to get her out of her clothes and tonight was no exception.

She grabbed his hands before he could fully remove her bustier, cradling his hands in hers. “Are you sure you want to do this? We really don’t have to. I’m happy to just sit here with you.” Her voice was barely a whisper, something meant just for him.

He smiled at her before kissing her again, “Darling, if I didn’t wish to have you, I wouldn’t have you half dressed sitting on my lap.”

She smiled and let go of his hands and let him return to practically tearing off her clothing. He wasn’t satisfied until she was sat on his lap in nothing but her underwear. His face buried in her breasts, leaving small little nicks with his teeth as he made his way back up to her lips. Her hands gripped his shoulder as he snaked his hand down her body. He made sure to feel all the softness that was still on her body, never failing to trace her curves.

Tav was small but years in a tower had made her body gentle. Her hands were rough from her instruments, yes, and she did have a lot of skill with a blade. But she was in no way muscular. And Astarion enjoyed that more than he could say. He enjoyed being able to almost see the tremors in her thighs before he felt it. Gods, he needed her.

It only took him a moment to find her clit and draw slow, gentle circles around it. Never quite touching it directly. “Darling, you’re already shaking. Did you miss me that much?”

“Yes!” She cried into his ear. “Y-you’re teasing me.” Her head fell against his shoulder as her body trembled against him.

“Oh, I’d never do such a thing,” He smiled and buried his hand in her hair. “I simply want to take my time enjoying you.” The vampire spawn slowly filled her cunt with his fingers, his palm grinding against her clit.

She tried hard to keep quiet. Really she did. But when his fingers curled inside of her? She couldn’t help but cry out his name. How was he so patient? All she wanted was to have him inside her. He pumped his fingers in and out of her cunt so painfully slowly.

Now, Tav may have been too focused on the rogue’s hands to notice anything else. But Astarion wasn’t. He knew Halsin and Gale were keeping watch tonight. He also knew it was far too late for anyone else to be awake. Which is why his hands didn’t stop when he noticed the bushes across from them moved. It was so subtle that he almost missed it.

Almost.

Someone was watching them. And he had an inkling he knew exactly who it was. The thought made him grin against Tav’s bloodsoaked neck. He sped up his fingers, holding her as she writhed against him. “That’s it, love, don’t hold a single thing back.” She came with a cry of his name. She was still trembling as he made a show of licking his own fingers clean. “I do so enjoy how you taste, my love.” He didn’t whisper this time. He wanted the wizard in the bushes to hear.

With shaking hands she went to untie the knots on his trousers. He leaned back against the rock, letting her take his length in her hands. “M-may I?” Her neck was stained just as red as the flush on her cheeks. Her big blue eyes wide in anticipation.

“May you what?” His hand went to her throat and he felt her breath catch.

“M-may I ride you?” It really was endearing how she asked. Her voice was breathless and her chest was heaving. He had never been overly rough with her. But with a voyeur in the bushes? He was more than tempted to lay claim to the nearly virgin in his lap.

He pouted at her, “I’m not quite sure what you mean, darling.”

Her eyes went wider than before. “W-what?”

She was so innocent. So pure, he had never even heard her swear before. “What is it exactly that you would like to do?” He purred, his forehead meeting hers. “Don’t play coy with me now.”

She swallowed, the tips of her ears matching the rest of her face. “Astarion,” she whined.

“If you use your words, love, I’ll be happy to give you anything you want.”

She whined again when the grip around her throat tightened ever so slightly. “I-I want-” another swallow, “I want to ride your cock.”

He smiled, “See? Now was that so hard? You did so well,” he whispered against her lips. She adjusted herself over him, still holding him in one hand while the other braced herself on his shoulder. His hand still held her throat, not quite squeezing just letting her know he was there. The bard lowered herself onto him. He groaned as she sank down. “Perfect.”

Her other hand flew up to his chest while she gripped his blouse so tightly that her knuckles were whiter than before. Her head spun while the wine loosened her tongue. “Gods, Astarion.”

“Use your words, darling,” he moaned against her neck, his eyes keeping an eye on the bush yet again. He wanted the wizard to see how good he could make her feel. He wanted him to see that he wasn’t even a thought on her mind. He wanted him to see that she wanted him and not Gale.

She sat for a moment, adjusting to his size before rocking her hips back and forth. Astarion’s hands flew to her hips to help guide her movements. “Feels so good,” she whimpered, still clutching at his blouse.

“That’s it, pet. You can take it, I know you can.” Her movements were entirely her own. She gradually went from rocking to bouncing. His body told him to throw his head back but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. Maybe now Gale would realize she was his. Maybe he had more of a possessive streak than he thought.

“Your hand, put it back!” She used his chest as leverage for her movements. He could feel her getting close and who was he to deny her? He instinctively put his hand back around her throat and squeezed. He had never felt her tighten around him harder. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. He let her sit like that for a moment as she started to relax once again.

Whoever was in the bushes was gone now. Either too riled up to stay or too heartbroken to watch. Either way, Astarion found it satisfying. Satisfying enough to toss Tav on her back and put her ankles on his shoulder. It was something about knowing Tav not only trusted him but chose him, drove him wild. Far more than any lover he’s had in the past. Even through her half opened eyes and her mind filled with wine and pleasure, her eyes were still filled with that emotion. That feeling that he wouldn’t dare put words to yet.

She was his. And he was equally hers.

Her moans and whimpers filled the air but he felt so far away from her. Too far. She grabbed his hands and pulled him closer, lacing her hands with his. “Beautiful,” was all she could whisper before she clenched around him. This time, he wasn’t far behind her. They laid like that for a while. Him on top of her, her tracing small patterns on his back. The scars were a reminder of what awaited them in Baldur’s Gate. But it could wait for now. For now they had each other.

“Did you see who was in the bushes?”

He immediately met her eyes, “You knew?”

“I’m naive, not stupid.” She giggled, rolling over to her side.

“I believe we just gave the magic eater quite the eyeful.”

#astarion #astarion smut #astarion x tav #baulders gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #fem!tav #cucking Gale #not my gif

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reveluving · 4 months

Text

cold little kisses ; yandere!singer x reader

summary: Omar's love knows no bounds.

warnings: s~mut (minors DNI!) & tooth-rotting fluff!

a/n: I LOVE @oncomingnight 's OCs to BITS, but Omar has been haunting me for DAYS. OP if you're reading this, hi!! Quick question; is the man in the original post like someone someone? ‘Cause he now comes to mind whenever I think of him ✋🏼😔 Hope you don't mind me giving this sweetheart a go! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

'But like the greedy man he was, he never stopped. Not even when the two of you returned to his cabin.' ;

Smut includes: unprotected sex (p in v), cockwarming, slight teasing & marking, drools & sweat, body worship, soft!dom!Omar!

Omar believed you were God's gift at its purest form, and to be the luckiest son of a gun when you bestowed before him that very day?

Absolute miracle.

There was no way he could have wiped the lovestruck smile off his face every morning, waking up to you in your most vulnerable.

The extravagant sight of Quebec was already a treat as it was, enjoying the spot with his wife was another. He was more than content to watch you marvel at the snowy night, eyes twinkling in the fairy lights as the snowflakes fell on you like an extraordinary being blessing the Earth, but that would be unceremonious of him.

“Omar, look.” You gasped for the umpteenth time tonight, bending down at the line of the nation's quintessential souvenirs, handcrafted in ways that would surely grab the attention of first-time tourists. Those familiar with the renowned singer were kind enough to leave him and his beloved be, going only as far as taking a picture of the two from a distance to share on their social media later and rake in OMGs or any other forms of awe.

That, and many were smart enough to stay away, having witnessed the more intimidating side of him online at the mere mention of you in manners that never sat right with him.

“Would you like that one?” He asked, his deep voice never failed to send shivers down your spine.

“Omar, we already have so much.” You raised the bags in your hands, plus motioning to the majority that he had offered to hold. Brows furrowing a little in a way that you feel guilty that he has to play tour guide for you, no matter how many times you have visited.

“Well, who else is going to beautify our new bookshelf, if not you?” He chuckled, languidly walking over to stand next to you. He briefly surveyed the souvenirs through the glass, only for his eyes to flit towards you within seconds, prompting your face to burn, despite the chilly air hitting you, “We're buying it.”

Omar ducking his head was a telltale sign of him wanting to steal a kiss, but rather than feeling his lips on yours, he pecked the cold tip of your nose. Embarrassed by the affectionate display in public, you hid your face in his chest, your giggles vibrating through him.

That didn't stop him from showering you with more, planting kisses after kisses on the top of your head while he rested his free hand on the small of your back.

But like the greedy man he was, he never stopped. Not even when the two of you returned to his cabin.

Your eyes were brimming with tears, glassy to the point where you couldn't pinpoint the nature on the other side of the window beyond silhouettes. Your mind was no better, your brain already in the midst of turning mush in favour of him prodding your cervix.

He cooed at you, akin to a delicate flower if not for the way one of his hands gripped at your ass tightly. Blunt nails leaving marks for him to appreciate in the next sunrise. His other hand lightly held the back of your head, leaving you no choice but to stare back at him in a drunken haze.

Omar welcomed your drools and tears dripping down his chest, occasionally leaving damp marks on his shirt, all unbuttoned but barely removed from his shoulders. The half-disheveled look on him was a sight to behold, the oh-so-put-together-singer nowhere to be seen.

You felt full, and you were full, the stretch around him evident when bouncing you up and down his cock required his aid. You would've fallen back or sagged in his arms if not for his own holding you snug against his chest. Although, that didn't mean he wasn't seconds away from losing himself into the feeling either—falling back into the velvet seat with one arm around you, chest heaving in shallow breaths and skin covered in a thin layer of sweat.

His body akin to a Greek God, created to worship his one and only with loyalty, riches and silk, and protect you from the dangers of humanity alone, or even the unforgiving weather that occured beyond the safety of his luxurious cabin.

Lost in the way you squeezed him each time he rolled his hips, he surged forward, wrapping his lips around one of your pebbled tits. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing his face further into your breasts as he shamelessly looked up at you through his lashes.

“Omar…” You hiccuped, brushing your lips against his forehead, moving your hips when he stilled you for a moment. It felt sickly sweet. something only he had the privilege of—of your body and soul, “Move, please…”

He couldn't say no to you, not now, not ever, even if he wanted nothing more than to listen to your pretty voice and hold you real close.

So long your lips, your mind, your you—could do nothing more than reciprocate his own desires, he'd only stop at his own expense when hell freezes over.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

» Bonus HC from the train pic on OP's post:

I love the thought of Omar, with his reading glasses as he writes the lyrics of his upcoming song on a journal and casually drinks his coffee. But he's also watching his beloved play a one-player card game in front of him with a warm smile. UGH.

» deadass could not help it. this is one of those 'if I don't do something about it, no matter how short or quick it is, I'll sure as hell think about it for a LONG time.' ksjslsksls ;; tagging @firefly-graphics for the gorgeous divider ♡

#— reve's reverie 🌹#again: he's not my oc!! he's made by oncomingnight!#pls check them out!! 😭💗#yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x you #yandere oc #yandere singer x reader #yandere x willing reader #yandere oc x y/n #oc x reader #oc x you #oc x y/n #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere oc x f!reader #yandere x f!reader

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ghosts-cyphera · 9 months

Text

Harder.

╰﹒ sometimes a slip of Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley’s hand is all the push you need.

content/warnings: swearing and suggestiveness; gn!reader; wc: 1k

a/n: gods, it's been years since I've last posted my stories online, but I couldn't sleep after playing CoD and... well. those who get it, get it. feedback and requests are welcome! ♡

Your feet pounded the cement as you ran through the cargo hold, finding security from the midst of the rusty metal containers.

All around you shouts and calls erupted from your friends' lips—some followed by warm laughs, others by deep curses, as the Task Force 141 submerged into the practice session.

"Gaz, do you copy?" The call passed your lips as a warm chuckle, as you crouched behind an oil container. "I've just gotten Soap's dog tags."

"Oh, I know." The reply was spoken with a laugh. "He's sent Ghost to come and find you. Fuckin' dumb on his part, considering that—"

"His tags are the last ones we need to win." You nodded your head. "Any visual on him? The last I've seen him was when he swiped poor fucking Roach off his—"

"I only needed his dog tags, didn't I?"

You grinned at the deep voice echoing from the other side of the container. You should have focused on listening to him approaching, but then, when did you ever really hear him coming?

"Funny," you chuckled back at the man, as you planted your feet steadier against the ground, careful to not make a sound. "You see, Lieutenant, your tags are exactly what I need. So why don't you just go ahead and toss them to me? We can take it real nice and easy."

"'Cause that's how you fuckin' like it, eh?"

You could hear the laughter in his voice, slightly breathless from the time spent dashing around under the scorching sun. Just moments before you had cursed the heat under your breath as you'd felt the pearls of sweat rolling down your forehead. Running in full gear tended to get to the fittest of the force, yet it did have its benefits, too.

Benefits, such as the sound of Ghost's vest brushing against the metal of the container. At your ear level, right around the corner to your right.

You wet your lips with your grin. "Want me to show you just how I like it, Lt.?"

"Darlin', you and I both know that I can read you like an open fuckin' book."

You could hear the brush of his vest against the metal again, as he moved closer to you. You knew he was out of paint-ammo: Gaz had gotten away with his tags from mere luck only moments prior, which meant that you had the higher ground. The moment he moved to lunge at you, could take him down with a single pull of the trigger, and grab his tags off his soon-to-be paint-covered vest.

Yet what was the fun in that?

With an arched brow, you laid your gun on the pavement. The screech of it against the ground, as you kicked it out of both your reaches, did not go unnoticed by Ghost.

”Sure you wanna do that, love?”

"Just to make it fair and square," you chuckled.

"You know I can't just kick off half my fucking body, yeah?"

"Wasn't it just this morning that I wiped the floors with your—"

A gasp and a curse were all you could manage, as your back collided with the hard cement of the ground. Handling the shock of the impact was one thing, but seeing him towering over you, fucking victorious, was another pill to swallow.

"Jesus fuck, Ghost." Despite your voice being a mere pained groan, you could not shake off the laughter from your features: the same laughter that glimmered in his eyes. "You know we're just fucking practicing, right?"

"I know. But you see, whatever the fuck it was that you said about takin' it nice and fuckin' easy—," he chuckled, as he crouched by you, "just doesn't do it for me. So what do you say I take these…"

His skeleton-patterned gloves reached for the chain around your neck, and just as you rolled your eyes at the certainty of your team having lost over you letting down your guard, the events began to unfold.

Whether it was from his finger slipping on your glistening skin, or from you turning your head at the exact wrong moment—perhaps it was from the combination of both—his hand did not wrap around the chain of your dog tags.

Instead, Ghost's fingers wrapped around your throat.

One moment he was sure of the victory of his team. Next, his brain could not function. For there you fucking were, on your back with your eyes slightly widened and lips parted, and his hand—his goddamn gloved hand around your throat from all the fucking places.

The worst of it all was not the wave of embarrassment that flushed through him. The worst of it was how fucking good you looked.

Yet he knew.

He knew.

No, he should have known better than to let his guard down: to allow himself to get distracted by the tug of the corners of your lips, as you tilted your head ever so slightly, chest rising and falling with your heavy breaths, your eyes fucking twinkling.

Yet as the fingers of your hand rested on his and the word passed your lips, fucking pretty, who could blame him?

"Harder."

To hell and fucking above. From your breathless request, his lips parted involuntarily under his mask. To say what, he did not know: plead, maybe, for the first time in his life.

No, it wasn't pleading and begging you wanted from him, was it? Quite the fucking opposite.

No. Focus.

Fucking focus, Lt.

Using the fleeing moment of his racing thoughts to your advantage, you pushed off the ground and brought your knife—sheathed—to his throat. The twinkle in your eyes was brighter than ever, and as you laughed, the sound was all but menacing.

"Really, Ghost?"

"Don't even fucking begin," he cursed, breathless, as your fingers wrapped around the chain around his neck, and tugged off the dog tags.

Yet as long as he had tried to deny it, it was not the slight touch of humiliation of having lost that made his head spin. You—he wet his lips, as he watched you twirling the tags around your finger—were going to be the goddamn death of him, and for one reason or another, he was ready to welcome it with open fucking arms.

“Ready for round two, sarge?” His chuckle was deep as you tossed his dog tags back to him, your eyes twinkling with challenge. “You know, I’m not gonna take it fuckin’ easy on you now.”

“Oh, that’s mutual, Lt.”

That—Ghost wet his lips with a chuckle—that he was fucking counting on.

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley fluff #ghost cod x reader

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neptuneiris · 5 months

Text

Behind the Scenes (05/05)

Behind the Success

pairing: actor!aemond × fem!reader

summary: you and Aenar finally meet Aemond's family, closing one chapter of your life and starting a new one with Aemond in it.

word counter: 8.7k

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it's here!🥳

I've finally finished the chapter and I'm so excited for you guys to read this!

and how is it possible that another story is going to end soon? because if you didn't read my previous message, there will be an epilogue, so it's not yet the definitive goodbye for this little family we have created🤭

also before reading I want to thank you for your support and please leave me your opinion, lately the comments have gone down and I wish to read you🙏🏻

oh I also want to make a small clarification before you reed:

in the second chapter it is mentioned how aemond at the end confessed everything to his family in a desperate attempt to find Y/N. but let's forget that hehe🤭 let's pretend that aemond never told them so you can enjoy this chapter and the light drama you are about to read.

now read and enjoy, ily all!

warnings: slight angst, aemond's family melting our hearts when they meet aenar.

Aemond immerses himself in the world of acting with the same fierce dedication with which he confronts his characters on screen. Every move, every word, everything is carefully rehearsed and executed.

Each project is a challenge, an opportunity to explore new roles and demonstrate his versatility as an actor.

The hustle and bustle of the film set fills the air as he immerses himself in his role. The bright lights illuminate his face, conveying the intensity of his character as he delivers his lines with palpable emotion.

But when the bell rings, as well as the director's shout of "cut!" is heard, Aemond is Aemond again.

Behind all those shots, scenes, interviews and awards, no one knows that Aemond is a father, at least no one outside his close circle. He only confided the news to a few close co-workers, some production people and his older sister, Rhaenyra.

He managed to persuade some rumors after some people at first saw him entertaining Aenar in the nursery on the set, because even though there is nothing wrong with it and Aenar is his most precious treasure and a pride of his life, he knows it is better to protect him from the public eye.

And now that Aenar has his own nanny at home, sometimes even then the whispers would start to get too much and he would make sure that some member of the production crew, known for their ability to spread harmless gossip, would plant the idea that it was simply a close family friend of the child they had seen him with.

And in the midst of all his work and everything he has to do, Aemond finds the precious time to be with his son.

Aenar, a whirlwind of laughter and childlike energy, fills every space where the two are together with light. Games, stories and hugs become routine and Aemond cherishes every moment he can spend with him on his days off.

He even reduces his own working hours and focuses entirely on filming his scenes, also attending one or two interviews per month, in order to have more quality time with Aenar, who is more important than having to please the press at every moment.

And as he balances the intensity of the job with his responsibility as a father, Aemond fights for to rebuild the trust you once placed in him.

Every gesture, every conversation, was an effort to demonstrate that he is fully committed to getting things right this time. Every encounter with you, he demonstrates a quiet determination to making amends for past mistakes.

With carefully chosen words and acts of genuine support, he tries to show you that he understands the pain he had caused and is willing to go out of his way to regain your trust.

And you accept this, because you see how he makes an effort to open up more, to share his thoughts, his fears and his hopes. But above all, you see how he is making an effort with Aenar, which is the most important thing.

And you also see how parental responsibility has changed his perspective and maturity. But still, Aemond knows that rebuilding trust takes time and forgiveness is not something that can or should be rushed.

Even if you decide never to forgive him, he's okay with that and is getting the idea from now on that you only allow him to be close to you because of Aenar and only because of Aenar.

So in the meantime, you immerse yourself in your own workday.

The makeup and wardrobe trailer is a world of constant motion and productivity in any given area, though your mind is always on Aenar and also on Aemond.

And even though you both carry separate jobs at the same place during the day, you both manage to create a balance between your jobs and raising Aenar.

Evenings were for you and Aenar if Aemond didn't finish recording at the same time as your shift ends. And almost at dusk is when Aemond comes from work and devotes every minute of his free afternoon to Aenar.

Instead if you both finished your shifts at the same time, you both spent time together with Aenar.

However, the nights brought calm.

Once Aenar fell asleep and before Aemond retired, you and he find your own space to talk, share thoughts, talk about work or more importantly about Aenar. And today just happens to be one of those nights.

You finish cleaning the kitchen, while Aemond is sitting on one of the stools, with a cup of coffee in his hands, looking out the large windows to the back garden, thoughtful.

While he has in front of him the IPad with the image of the camera in Aenar's crib that records him sleeping, attentive and making sure he is well.

"I've been thinking a lot lately," he says, breaking the silence in a soft voice, catching your attention.

You watch him from the sink, setting a clean, dry dish in the drainer, then drying your hands with a clean cloth.

"About what?" you ask him softly, attentively.

And he takes a moment before answering, thinking very carefully about his words and what he means, not wanting you to misunderstand him in any way.

"On Aenar and... us."

He confesses and you lean on the other side of the island that separates you both in front of him, giving him your full attention.

"At first..." he starts to say, slightly flustered, "You didn't want me to hide him from the world and I-I... well, I obviously disagreed with you."

He says and bites the inside of his cheek, lowering his gaze, feeling embarrassed.

"But now... I think it's not fair to him that no one has any idea that I have a son. It's also not fair for anyone to know that you're the mother of my child."

His gaze again meets yours and a sense of understanding envelops both him and you.

"Now things have changed," Aemond continues, his tone laden with sincerity, "And I know that you and I are n-not together but... maybe... I can announce the news, only if you want me to."

Silence fills the kitchen in its entirety for a moment, as Aemond holds his breath at your possible response, honestly feeling terrified to expect a bad reaction from you.

But none of that crosses your mind, on the contrary, you just digest his words. But your silence is what causes a mixture of expectation and anxiety in Aemond, who holds his gaze with yours, nervous.

And finally, with a serene sigh, you go around the island that separates the two of you and approach him, placing one of your hands on his shoulder gently and in an attempt to comfort and reassure him, instantly feeling his whole figure tense, while he watches you with his big healthy wide eye and his prosthetic eye remains the same as always.

"Aemond," you begin to say in a soft voice as he watches you completely attentively, "I always wanted you to recognize Aenar publicly, that was what I wanted most at first. But now...

You pause for a moment, thinking about your meditated words, as you sink for a second into your own thoughts and what you really want to say, as Aemond watches you intently, waiting for you to continue.

"I understand your world more now," you continue, "And, honestly, I can't blame you for not agreeing with me back then, only in this," you make clear, "Recognize him legally would have been the right thing to do and... enough," you say holding back the sadness in your tone of voice.

But Aemond catches that break in your voice, a moment of your vulnerability that makes him feel a sharp, simmering ache in his chest, as if every word you utter drops a weight on his shoulders, with shame again invading him, but this time with a mixture of deep remorse and regret.

A barely audible sigh escapes his lips, lowering his gaze, ashamed, feeling the burden of his past choices and he wonders amidst the brief silence if he will ever be able to fully redeem with himself.

But he doesn't have much time to think about it, as you gently squeeze his shoulder to bring his attention back to you.

"And now I understand that the press and people's opinions can be very dangerous and destructive," you say softly, "And I don't want that for Aenar, at least I don't want to deal with that yet," you confess, "I want him to grow up a little more and we can both enjoy his early years without having to worry about it."

An expression of surprise and also longing crosses Aemond's face, still watching you intently, processing your words.

"Are you sure?"

You place a soft smile on your lips.

"Very," you assure, "I just want him to grow up in a calm and safe place, without falling fame on him nor all this attention being so young," you explain, "I have no problem with it, but also your opinion counts."

"No, I-I... I want the same for him too," he agrees with you, nodding, with all the pressure and anxiety he felt being replaced by a mixture of gratitude and relief.

And you nod back at him, smiling softly in his direction.

"But..." he says with a slight urgency in his gaze and concern in his tone, "I just want you to know that when the time comes, I won't do it for attention or to be relevant."

He says seriously, softly and honestly.

""I'll do it because I know it's something I have to do, for him and for you, as in the beginning maybe it should have been. But for now I just want us to enjoy these moments and, when the time is right, make that decision together."

The room fills with the honesty of his words and you can feel the sincerity in each of them, as a sense of calm envelops you both and you share a soft, complicit smile.

"Sure," you nod to him, feeling a warmth wrap itself all over your chest.

Your gaze moves away from his for a moment, focusing on the iPad screen where Aenar is shown sleeping, while Aemond can't help but focus on the features of your face with an intensity that can't go unnoticed by you.

Deep longing is reflected in his gaze, with a palpable mix of regret and sadness that is projected beyond mere facial expression. And he feel that weight on his body and chest again, a burden he can't help but feel.

His healthy eye glides over your face as if searching for answers in every line of expression and in his gaze, you can perceive the longing to repair the irremediable, the need to know how much he regrets the decisions of the past.

"Y/N-

He starts to want to say, his voice laden with regret, but you turn your gaze to him and stop him.

"Aemond, we have already talked about this."

"But I'm sorry... I really am," he insists, with pain in his gaze, "And I know an apology isn't going to fix it, I know that, neither is anything else but... I am really sorry and you don't know how much I hate myself for everything I put you through."

"No," you shake your head, "There's no need for you to keep apologizing," you tell him softly, "It won't do either of us any good to keep bringing up the mistakes of the past. Nor will it serve you to keep punishing yourself for what has already happened," you say as tactfully as you can.

His expression reflects a mixture of gratitude and frustration with yourself.

"Yes, I know, I understand," he murmurs, lowering his gaze, "It's just... I feel like I have to say it."

"Aemond, what matters now is this, how we move forward from here now that we've both learned and grown. Aenar too," you add, "And that's all that matters."

He nods slowly in your direction, his gaze showing a mixture of appreciation and relief, even with the remorse within him, as you both then sink into a moment of silence, letting the unspoken words echo in the air, but you both know those words, they just don't need to be said.

The relationship dynamic between you and Aemond since then takes a new path, a less tense, more bearable path of total trust. And this is not lost when the two of you are together in Aenar's presence.

Until one day, on your day off precisely, Aemond after work, comes to you telling you some unexpected news.

"I told them."

You turn fully towards him, giving him your full attention, understanding but at the same time not what he really means.

The living room starts to feel tense, while Aenar completely oblivious to it continues to play on the floor with his toys, but you focus on his gaze, where there is a charge of confession in his eye and you notice his whole body in a position of determination but also nervousness.

"Come, sit down," you tell him in a soft voice, pointing to the couch, while at the same time getting up from the floor to take a seat next to him.

And he almost with a defeated expression and posture, does as you say, letting out a sigh.

"What happened?" you ask, watching him intently.

He inhales deeply, looking at Aenar on the floor, who is the only one who can make him feel a little calmer, as well as your presence next to him.

"I told them about everything that happened," he confesses to you, "Our relationship, your pregnancy, my team, the decision I made in the beginning, everything I caused and how much I hurt you," he says as he feels his heart knot, "Everything. Everything that happened from then until now... and Aenar."

His words leave a weight in the air, as you anticipate how bad and difficult that conversation must have gone with his family to see him this way, so serious and tense.

"And how did they react?"

Aemond closes his eye, lowering his gaze, his posture reflecting the emotional baggage he carries with him and how bad it definitely went with it.

"Just as I expected. Obviously they were disappointed in me."

He says without much emotion, but with slight pain in his tone

"My grandfather couldn't believe it and was shouting how come I kept all that from them. Hel was very shocked, Aegon and Daeron too. And mother said a few hurtful things, started crying and telling me how I could keep these things from her," he exhales deeply, "Rhaenyra and Daemon were the ones who helped me calm things down a bit, but still my grandfather and mother were upset with her for knowing and not saying anything."

The tension of what happened feels palpable, as if he is reliving his family's every reaction, with the heaviness of disappointment and pain reflected in his expression, as you beside hom, share the weight of that difficult moment.

You are both silent for a moment, only hearing the sounds of Aenar playing with his toys.

"I'm sorry," you whisper in his direction, placing your hand on top of his, as if trying to somehow ease the pain he feels, "It must have been very difficult for you."

"No, Y/N," he observes you instantly, speaking to you in a soft tone, "You don't have to apologize. I deserved this and I'm not saying it to cause pity or play the victim," he adds with earnest sincerity, "I'm saying it because it's true. This is the least I deserve after everything you had to go through because of me."

You decide not to say anything at this, just offer him your silent support, while he again seems lost in his own thoughts for a few long seconds, where neither of you say anything.

When suddenly, Aenar emits an infectious giggle, instantly attracting both of your attention.

His small hands hold a toy with enthusiasm, his smile and the tenderness he conveys bringing brightness to the living room and the state Aemond is in, who smiles softly at the scene, watching him with complete adoration.

He sighs and rises from the couch, moving towards him, holding him gently, needing the sensation at that moment of holding him in his arms.

Aenar squeals with excitement and joy, placing his small arms on his chest, moving energetically in his arms, smiling big at him with his blue eyes completely filled with a glow.

The scene makes you smile softly, especially when Aemond also takes one of his toys and begins to play with it in his arms as he starts to walk slowly around the living room, talking to it in a honeyed tone and causing Aenar to babble incomprehensible words but full of happiness in his tone.

And when Aenar entertains himself with his father's silver hair, Aemond speaks again, turning to you to observe you.

"Despite everything, they want to meet him," he says, watching Aenar in his arms, "And they also want to meet you, my mother more than anyone else."

And this also completely grabs your attention.

"Really?"

"Hmm," he nods, "But I didn't tell them yes or no," he lets you know, "I wanted to consult it with you first."

"But is this good or not?" you ask, looking to find positivity in the situation, "Or do you think they shouldn't know him yet?"

"Of course they should," he tells you softly, "I owe this to them, also to you. But as I tell you, I didn't know how you would react if I told you they would meet him soon, I wanted to check with you first."

You place a reassuring smile in his direction.

"Aemond, for me it's perfect for Aenar to meet his grandmother, his uncles and aunts. It's a great opportunity and will definitely be good for him," you assure him.

"Yes, it is," he nods, unconsciously beginning to imagine the moment, "They can come or we can go to them, whichever you decide."

"Either way is fine with me," you shrug, "When might that be?"

Aemond thinks for a moment before answering.

"We could arrange it next weekend. Sounds good?"

You nod with a reassuring little smile.

"Sounds good."

The Targaryen—Hightower family decides to come to you.

When Aemond gives you the news, even though at first you were totally fine and had no problem with it, inevitably knowing it instantly makes you nervous.

You've never met his family before, not even when you and Aemond were a couple for obvious reasons. And even though his family isn't involved within the entertainment and film industry, you've still heard enough about them to feel slightly intimidated.

About Alicent Hightower, Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen more than anyone.

The uncertainty of how they will perceive you, especially after disappearing from Aemond's life without warning and also how they will treat you, that's what worries you the most.

But the fact that they will be coming to your house relieves you a little. Fortunately you won't be interacting with them in unfamiliar terrain and you're sure that the presence of Aenar, his toys and Aemond will go a long way to reassuring you.

"Do you need help?"

Aemond appears behind you, while you find yourself cleaning everything you can from your living room and Aenar, as usual, is sitting on the carpet with all his toys around him.

"I'm just cleaning up in here, then I'll go clean the kitchen."

"Don't worry, me and this little handsome will clean the kitchen."

He walks over to Aenar and takes him in his arms, who is already dressed in an outfit too cute for the occasion and smells like baby soap from the previous bath you gave him, ready to meet his family.

Aemond goes with him to the kitchen, sitting him in his perch, keeping an eye on him while at the same time starting to clean up.

You start moving some of Aenar's toys, organizing his play area a bit, to create a more orderly and cozy space in the living. You also mop the floor and arrange cushions.

Aemond washes a few dirty dishes and cleans all the shelves, also mops and spreads your favorite Lavender scent, which besides smelling amazing, calms your nerves.

You also ask him to help you tidy up the dining room while you clean the bathroom, wanting everything to look clean and spotless, while Aemond takes Aenar in his arms again to let him play in his play area and he watches him closely from that new distance.

"Maybe I should have cooked something?"

You walk over to him, slightly concerned.

"What? No," he turns to you, instantly, "Y/N, they're coming to meet Aenar, not to eat."

"I know, but..." you explain, nervously, "I thought maybe it would be a good idea to have something prepared, out of courtesy and.... I don't know. Won't it be rude of me if I don't have anything to offer them?"

"Of course not, you don't have to," he clarifies, more serious but with a soft tone, "If you want to have something prepared, let it be some drinks, nothing more."

Still you watch him hesitantly and worriedly.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, very sure," he assures you, "In fact I'll prepare them. You rest and take care of Aenar. I'll finish cleaning up everything else."

"No, I-I-

"Rest," he repeats, interrupting you, placing a hand on your cheek gently, "I know this may be overwhelming, but they will come to meet Aenar and you too. And you don't have to put too much pressure on yourself. Everything will be fine."

Her warmth and understanding manage to comfort you a little, making you stop feeling so tense little by little.

"Now rest, okay?" he says softly to then walk past you and head towards the kitchen, not taking any argument back.

It's clear that he wants to lighten your load and make sure you feel comfortable about all this that's about to happen, with his actions conveying reassurance.

And finally after a while, you are ready and waiting in the living room with Aenar, playing with him, while Aemond is sitting on the single sofa and who a few minutes ago let you know that his family is on their way.

And after a few more long minutes, Aemond now lets you know that his family has already passed through the security gate that leads into the private neighborhood.

Knowing that fills you with nerves again, but Aenar's babbling as he hands you his currently favorite toys distracts you a bit.

"Are you okay?"

Aemond asks you from where he sits, watching you intently and noticing the tension all over your face and body, while you try to look completely calm and relaxed.

"Yeah, yeah, just... a little nervous," you say trying to place a genuine smile on your face as you distract yourself by touching Aenar's toys, "Who exactly is coming? Other than your mother and siblings," you can't help but ask.

"My grandfather."

You watch him expectantly, waiting for him to tell you more, but he doesn't.

"And that's everyone?"

"Well, Rhaenyra said my nephews wanted to come too, my uncle Daemon with his daughters too but I asked them to wait a little longer," he explains to you slightly concerned, "I didn't want you to feel nervous and overwhelmed if my whole family invaded your house. And Aenar sure would have felt scared too."

You bite the inside of your cheek and he rises from the couch to walk over to you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"Hey, don't worry, okay? It's going to be fine. They're excited to meet you and Aenar."

You release a long breath through your nose, placing one of your hands on top of his, feeling your shoulders especially start to feel less tense.

"Yes... thank you," you tell him with gratitude in your gaze, appreciating his support.

And then the doorbell rings.

Aemond gives you one last reassuring glance, assuring you that everything will be fine, then turns and heads for the door to greet them, as you rise from the couch and take Aenar in your arms.

The tension in your shoulders gradually dissolves as you hold your baby in your arms, replaced by a sense of calm, as you watch the front door intently and finish mentally preparing yourself.

Aemond opens the door gently with a warm smile on his lips and the first to enter is his mother, Alicent Hightower, in a beautiful, elegant green dress, followed by who you assume is Otto Hightower, his grandfather.

His mother wraps her arms around him and leaves a loving kiss on his cheek which Aemond reciprocates, as he also greets his grandfather, who watches the entire interior of the house with an inspecting gaze.

Behind Otto enters Rhaenyra, who embraces Aemond.

"Thank you for coming," Aemond says to her, leaving a kiss on her cheek.

"Of course," she smiles at him, leaving a soft kiss on his cheek as well before pulling away from him.

"You guys too, thank you," she says to Aegon and the rest of her brothers, "Come on in."

Both brothers, Aegon and Daeron, embrace him, speaking words of assurance, leaving Helaena at last, who throws herself into his arms with obvious emotion, smiling with joy and longing, as Aemond leaves a kiss in her hair.

Then Aemond closes the door and before heading towards you, who are still standing very still near the couch with Aenar in his arms, his whole family finally notices you and especially the child in your arms.

"Thank you for coming, all of you," Aemond repeats as he turns to you, "Let me introduce you to Y/N," he points to you, "She works on the same recording set I am currently working on as well."

You put on the best friendly and kind smile possible, as Aemond takes Aenar in his arms so that you can meet his family. And the first to address you is Alicent, with her stunning elegance and a soft smile on a warm face.

"Nice to finally meet you, my dear. My son has spoken so much about you."

The tension almost completely leaves your body, feeling grateful and relieved by the welcoming tone of her voice, evaporating your fear about how everyone, especially her, would treat you.

"The pleasure is mine. I'm happy you're here."

You reach out your hand to her and, pleased, she takes it. But she takes you by surprise when she pulls you closer to her and wraps you in a gentle embrace, definitely not expecting that.

You freeze for a moment, then, a little hesitantly, return her embrace, grateful for the affectionate welcome. And when you both part, she has a smile that denotes sincerity and cordiality, then points you to Aemond's grandfather behind her.

"This is my father, Otto," Alicent introduces you as he watches you with an appraising expression, "He has also heard much about you and was very pleased to come here."

And though his look is somewhat... intimidating, you don't let that invade your nerves.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hightower," you tell him in a soft, polite voice, extending your hand to shake with his as well.

"The pleasure is mine, Y/N," he replies in a low, polite voice, shaking your hand briefly.

"And this is Rhaenyra," Alicent points you to the woman who is just as refined as she is and shares Aemond's same characteristic of silver hair, as do the rest of his siblings.

She smiles towards you and gracefully approaches, then embraces you in greeting mode, as does Alicent.

"It's nice to finally meet you," she tells you cheerfully, "Aemond told me so much about you and of course your little one," she tells you as she gives Aenar a loving look.

"The pleasure is all mine. Aemond also spoke a lot about you and was very excited to meet you," you tell her, as she holds your hands in a gentle grip.

"Well here we are," she tells you without wiping away her smile, then looks behind her, turning her attention to the rest of Aemond's siblings, "Oh and they are my siblings," she gestures you towards Aegon, Daeron and Helaena, who have friendly glances in your direction.

Aegon steps forward first, extending his hand.

"I am Aegon. I hope you're not feeling overwhelmed with so many silverheads invading your home."

"No, no, not at all," you laugh softly, taking his hand, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Aegon."

Daeron is next, greeting you with a friendly smile.

"Hello, nice to meet you, Y/N. I'm Daeron. Aemond told us a lot about you and Aenar."

"Pleasure to meet you, Daeron," you say, noting the sincere camaraderie emanating from both brothers.

And finally, Helaena gives a few towards you, with an expression of pure excitement on her face and hugs you effusively.

"At last we meet!" she exclaims happily, "I was so excited to see you."

"Oh," you respond to her hug also a little surprised and with gratitude, "It's nice to meet you. Aemond has also told me a lot about you.".

"Good things, I hope," she says with a smile, pulling away from you.

And gosh, you can just see how much her sisters and brothers resemble Aemond. Their beauties are otherworldly and even Alicent is truly beautiful, as much as Rhaenyra is.

"And this..." begins to announce Aemond with Aenar in his arms and a radiant smile lighting up his face as he approaches the center of the living room, where his entire family watches him intently, "This is our son, Aenar," he says with pride in his voice, finally introducing his son.

Everyone's gaze focuses on the baby in Aemond's arms, who oblivious to the situation, watches them back with his huge bright blue eyes curious and expectant, while you place a small smile, anticipating the magical meeting of your little one with the rest of his family.

Helaena, visibly moved, can't hold back tears and tries to calm herself, with happiness, longing and nostalgia in her eyes. Aegon smiles with pride and Rhaenyra with adoration.

And meanwhile, Daeron, Otto and Alicent barely finish processing the reality of having Aenar in front of them.

Until Alicent steps forward gently, his eyes and gaze shining with curiosity, slight surprise, longing and adoration as he watches the little one, his newly presented grandson.

"Is that my grandson?" she murmurs in disbelief with tears beginning to form in her eyes and a hand on her chest.

Aemond, with a warm smile, nods at the question.

"Yes, Mom," he gently observes her and seeing her condition, looks at her with complete understanding, "Do you want to hold him?" he offers, carefully extending Aenar to her, sharing in the joy of her holding her grandson.

Alicent, tears streaming down her cheeks and visibly moved, nods in a touched nod with her gaze reflecting all her emotions, joy and awe.

She takes another step forward and reaches out her arms, where Aemond carefully places Aenar in her arms, who now watches him adoringly and with a mixture of happiness and emotion reflected in her gaze.

Alicent can't help but let out a couple more tears as Aenar babbles and watches her with great wonder, moving his small hands to her brown hair, starting to play with her curls, making her laugh softly in the midst of her tears and all the emotions she feels.

Aemond watches his mother tenderly as she enjoys her first encounter with her grandson, while you can't help but feel moved as well and wipe away a few tears that have escaped your eyes, watching the moment with emotion and nostalgia.

"My little Aenar," Alicent whispers, tenderly kissing his forehead, cradling him in her arms.

Aemond, still smiling and holding back his tears, diverts his gaze to you and you watch him back, where you both share a small smile and a silent complicity, both feeling the same way and recognizing the happiness this moment has brought to your lives.

And then Helaena approaches together with Daeron towards her mother, to watch Aenar and share the joy of the moment.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" comments Helaena, smiling, as Daeron watches him with a small smile of adoration and strokes his silver hair tenderly.

"Absolutely beautiful," whispers Alicent, her eyes shining with tenderness, not taking her eyes off him for a second.

"He's lovely," Rhaenyra comments with her soft little smile.

And then Alicent lifts his gaze to Aemond.

"And he looks exactly like you, darling," she tells him tenderly, recognizing the familiar features on Aenar's face and creating a moment full of emotion and family connection.

Aemond, touched and grateful, smiles at his mother's words.

"I think he has a little bit of both," Aemond replies, sharing a proud look with you.

Aenar physically by hair and eyes resembles Aemond, but some features of his face he definitely inherited from you and you can't help but smile in his direction.

And then, within the next few minutes, the whole family continues to make affectionate moments with Aenar. Helaena being the most excited is the one who now holds Aenar tenderly in her arms, leaving a couple of loving kisses on her cheek, while Rhaenyra approaches her to observe Aenar with a motherly gaze.

The imposing figure of Otto Hightower stands watching with satisfaction the scene unfolding in front of him, especially as he sees the happiness and excitement of Alicent and his grandchildren.

He doesn't say much, but his presence exudes a sense of quiet approval and though he doesn't show it, he honestly feels proud of Aemond, this reunion of his family and the arrival of a new member to it.

As Aegon approaches towards Aemond with a friendly, warm smile, placing a hand on his shoulder where he shares his gesture of brotherhood and pride.

"Congratulations, brother," he tells him sincerely, "He is beautiful and a mini version of you."

Aemond nods gratefully, the smile on his lips and places one of his hands on top of his.

"Thank you, brother. I appreciate it."

Now it is Daeron who takes Aenar in his arms and carries him to his play area, followed by Helaena, Rhaenyra, Alicent and you.

Helaena also takes a seat on the carpet with Alicent and the three of them start playing with him, who shows his enthusiasm and fills the living room with his giggles, melting the hearts of everyone present.

The atmosphere definitely becomes livelier and warmer, transforming into a special moment for everyone, where both you and Aenar feel completely comfortable and happy.

And as a few long minutes pass, Aemond watches all the interaction, happy and completely pleased, seeing how you converse with Rhaenyra and the rest of his family is totally entertained by Aenar.

Even his mother asks to have her picture taken with him and slowly begins to fill a new photo album of her grandson on her phone reel, completely enchanted with him.

Such a sight and such a moment couldn't make him happier, being a moment he needed so much and couldn't be more proud of. And how could he not?

His watching his son integrate into his family. And you are definitely getting along great with all of them.

Aegon stands by his side, sharing the gesture of complicity as they watch Helaena and Daeron make sounds with Aenar's toys that make him laugh and squeal with happiness.

Absolutely beautiful.

"So..." Aegon begins to say beside him, catching his attention, "You're going to show him to the world?"

He watches him intently, as Aemond holds his gaze for a second to look back at Aenar with an affectionate gaze, smiling softly.

"That's what Y/N would have wanted at first, when she got pregnant," he says softly, remembering those painful moments, "But no, at least not yet," he replies, turning his gaze back to his brother, "We talk and want to give him a normal childhood as much as possible."

Aegon nods with understanding, listening to him with full attention, then lets out a sigh, watching Aenar.

"The world is going to go mad when they find out, little brother," he says with an amused smile.

"I don't care," he says with a shrug, "All I care about is him."

Aegon smiles warmly again, acknowledging Aemond's priority as a father and he couldn't be prouder of him. He may be the older brother but Aemond...he's the one who matured first, always cleaning up his shit and making sure everyone was okay.

And even though when Aemond told them about this, about you and Aenar, it turned out to be a complete disaster, Aegon is glad that right now his family is responding in this way, loving you and Aenar.

"And what happened to Criston?"

He decides to ask you, curious and attentive, as Aemond takes a moment and exhales deeply, he too being a person who brings back horrible memories of the past.

"I fired him," he replies with a disinterested wave of his hand, "And his entire team too," he adds, "That's what I should have done in the beginning with him."

"And he threatened you?"

Aemond lets out an amused smile, remembering those days as well.

"Yes but I hired a lawyer and they made him sign a confidentiality sheet," he explains, "He couldn't do anything against that."

Aegon nods, pleased to hear those words, as you both turn your gaze back to the family, where Aenar's laughter still echoes throughout the living room, Aemond smiling lovingly as he watches his mother assail him with soft kisses.

Your soft laughter catches your attention as well, watching you with almost the same adoration and love as he watches Aenar, watching you converse with Rhaenyra where you both let out soft giggles at whatever it is you are talking about.

And he can't help but watch you extra longingly, wistfully, happily and longingly, loving to see the smile on your lips and the look of joy you have, his perfect and beautiful Y/N.

He honestly doesn't know what would have become of him if he had never seen you again. He'll probably still be sunk in his misery, regretful and trapped. But with each passing day he thanks the Gods for this, again and again, this second chance.

And Aegon doesn't take this unnoticed, the way his brother is looking at you.

"You really fucked things up with her, didn't you?"

His words break the spell he was under and he bites his lips, averting his gaze from you, beginning to feel ashamed and also with that guilt simmering in his chest.

"Yeah," he replies in a low murmur.

"You still love her."

Aegon tells him watching him intently with a complicity and understanding, not asking any questions, as he is making a statement, affirming it.

And Aemond again speaks the truth, neither denying it nor hiding it.

"Never stop doing so."

Aegon lets out a long breath, honestly feeling bad for him, to place his hand on his shoulder again.

"Brother, we all make mistakes," he tells him softly, "People fuck up and fuck up badly. I'm sure you get that from a person like me," he points to himself, still speaking in a serious tone, "And the important thing is to learn from them and move on. And I'm sure she's seen that in you."

"No, Aegon," he says softly, shaking his head, "What happened between us was different and... unforgivable," he says with the slight pain in his tone, "This is all happening only for Aenar and his well-being."

"So you don't plan to do anything about it?"

"I don't know," he says regretfully, letting out a sigh, "Things are complicated. And with everything that happened surely Y/N doesn't feel that way about me anymore. Besides what really matters is Aenar and I want to be a good father to him."

"I understand that, brother. But maybe all is not lost and all you need to do is try," he tells him in an encouraging tone, "Life is unpredictable, you know? And who knows... maybe Y/N still has feelings for you."

Aemond grimaces.

"I don't know, bro. I don't think so."

Aegon decides to say no more, just nods, for after all, he understands the complexity of his situation. And inevitably, though he shouldn't, with the words he has spoken to him, Aemond feels a small glimmer of hope.

Meanwhile the inside of your house continues to fill with laughter and conversation as everyone enjoys family time. And in the middle of it all, Alicent notices you going to the kitchen for a moment, this catching her attention and being the opportunity to talk to you.

So, giving her attention away from her grandson since she arrived, without saying anything to anyone, she discreetly follows you into the kitchen.

As she passes through the frame, she sees you arranging the drinks that Aemond prepared for them on a tray, wanting to offer them. But when Alicent's figure entering the kitchen catches your attention, you immediately turn to her.

"I don't intend to take up too much of your time, my dear," Alicent hastens to speak with a small smile on her lips.

"Oh, yeah, yeah," you nod immediately, "Do you need something?"

"I just want to talk to you," she answers you softly, "And it's nothing bad, I just... want to thank you for welcoming us into your home," she says, showing the sincerity in her look and tone, "I honestly haven't felt this happy in my life in a long time. And meeting Aenar has definitely made me very happy," she pauses a little, "Thank you."

"No, no, you don't have to thank me," you reply, with a soft look, "It's a pleasure to have all of you here. And you have made Aenar very happy too."

"No, I really do thank you," she insists with a soft tone, "Your home is beautiful and definitely an excellent place for Aenar to grow up."

"Oh, thank you," you smile kindly at her, "Actually this house was bought by Aemond. He must have told them or at least you, I suppose."

"Yes, he did," she nods, "He also told us how much you refused at first but I understand you. It must have been a very meaningful but very overwhelming gesture for you."

You nod with understanding, biting your lips.

"Yes," you murmur, "Yes it was. But I only accepted for Aenar," you hasten to clarify, "I didn't do it for my own convenience, whether for money or fame. I accepted for Aenar, so that he could have his father in his life and together give him the best."

"Yes, sweetheart," she advances towards you and takes your hands between her gently, "I know," she assures you, "You don't have to explain anything, everything is more than understandable."

You let out a long breath.

"Thank you," you tell her sincerely.

"It's okay," she smiles softly at you, "And listen, I-I... I really don't want to make you uncomfortable nor do I want to make you feel bad, in fact Aemond asked me not to talk to you about this but..." she looks at you with some tenderness and longing, "I just want to tell you how very brave you are, Y/N."

You shudder at the sweetness of her unexpected words, feeling a warmth run through your chest as a mixture of gratitude and longing flashes across your face, suddenly feeling completely vulnerable.

"I didn't blame you for deciding to run away, no one judges you for it."

She lets you know by telling you in a soft voice and as tactfully as possible.

"As much as I would have loved to have met you sooner, Aemond's decisions were terrible and I can't imagine everything you had to go through on your own," she says with slight shock and sadness, holding your hand tighter, "Your pregnancy, living in a new unfamiliar place and trying to make it on your own."

You bite your lips, feeling a sharp pain in your chest and tears begin to form in your eyes, but you gather your strength and try not to let them fall despite the memories of painful moments.

Her words resonate with genuine understanding and her warm touch brings you a comfort you didn't expect but definitely needed.

"Yes," you whisper, feeling the lump in your throat, "It was very scary and very difficult," you confess, "But Aenar made every sacrifice worth it."

"Of course," she murmurs, with a sympathetic look.

"Oh and... it must have been hard for you too," you say, remembering, "In those days seeing Aemond so sad and desperate must have worried you a lot. It even almost put in danger his career and you had no idea about me and what had happened."

"Yes, that was very scary too," she nods with a sad smile, "We didn't know what had happened, he pushed everyone away, even Helaena and... I couldn't stand to see him like that, but he wouldn't accept our help either," she explains, "But now, just like me, I've never seen Aemond so happy in his life."

Her tone is genuine and you hold her gaze with appreciation and understanding, feeling completely grateful for this pleasant acceptance and welcome by Aemond's family.

And in that moment you can feel, as Alicent does, how your connection grows stronger in your shared understanding of past challenges and new hope.

"You are a strong woman, Y/N. And I also want you to know that regardless of the circumstances between you and Aemond, I want you to know that you are part of our family now and we are here to support you."

You feel a happiness and relief course through your body, grateful for her words and her total understanding, as you nod in her direction.

"Thank you, Alicent."

And Alicent unable to contain herself, wraps you in a hug full of tenderness that you reciprocate, with the atmosphere filling with a sense of mutual acceptance and support.

And from there, the rest of the afternoon is spent sharing laughter and creating special memories.

Aegon plays with Aenar while Daeron and Helaena join in the fun, making your little one laugh with every quip and funny face that Aegon especially makes.

Alicent and Rhaenyra also join in, creating a connection with Aenar and showing him affection, while Aemond and you watch it all sitting together on the couch, each with a smile on your lips.

Until the visit comes to an end and the family says goodbye with expressions of gratitude and affection. Helaena is the one who insists on exchanging numbers to stay in touch, while she along with Alicent and Aegon promise to visit again soon.

It's a bit hard for Alicent to want to let go of Aenar, but eventually she does and then Aemond and you finish picking up and sorting all of Aenar's scattered toys.

Until it's also time for Aemond to leave.

"Thank you for this day. It was amazing and better than I could have hoped for. Even mom loves you more than she ever loved me."

You smile in his direction sincerely, laughing softly.

"It was nothing, Aemond. It was all very nice. Your family was very kind and Aenar had a great time."

"Yes," he murmurs as he watches his little boy adoringly and then turns his gaze back to you, "Still, thank you... for everything."

You see the intent in his gaze, also in his body, the way he fights it, catching your attention and being a bit amused at it, then moving towards him and wrapping your arms around his neck, hugging him.

Surprised and definitely not expecting that, Aemond doesn't take long to reciprocate your embrace, a little hesitantly at first but he does, slipping his arms around your waist and pulling you close against him.

A sigh escapes his lips as he closes his eye, feeling that warmth in his body and that almost happiness at the sensation of having you close again.

He had missed it.

The embrace conveys a mutual support and understanding, also a kind of affection that Aemond can't quite decipher.

But honestly at that moment he doesn't mind and allows himself to enjoy and seize every moment of this feeling, knowing that he may not be able to have you again soon in this way, before you both part and he drives to his apartment.

Regular visits from the Aemond family to your home become a pleasant daily moment. Each encounter brings laughter, love and a sense of family unity.

Aenar, with his contagious laughter, becomes the center of attention, further strengthening family bonds.

The bond between Aenar and his relatives grows stronger over time, so his extended family becomes fully involved in his growth and development. Laughter and play fill the halls of your home, creating precious memories.

Eventually you also meet the rest of Aemond's family as well as Aenar, like Daemon Targaryen, who is definitely a bit more intimidating than Otto Hightower. But once Daemon feels confident, he's the coolest guy.

You also meet Aemond's cousins, the twins Baela and Rhaena, Daemon's daughters, who are extremely kind and sweet to you.

And you also meet Rhaenyra's sons, Jace, Luke and Joffrey, where eventually she also introduces you to her youngest children, Aegon and Viserys.

Your relationship with each member of the Targaryen-Hightower family develop into genuine friendships. Helaena, Rhaenyra and Alicent become confidants and allies to Aenar's shared upbringing.

The complicity between the women in the family is supportive and builds a safe and loving environment for Aenar and the rest of the children.

Until, on occasion, you decide to take Aenar to the majestic Targaryen-Hightower mansion. The incredible residence becomes a second home for him, who explores every corner with curiosity and becomes familiar with the new walls.

Aegon, as the older brother he is, becomes his second protective figure. Together they share adventures through the mansion's extensive gardens and enjoy playing with Legos blocks or his plastic carts.

With Helaena, she connects with Aenar through her charm and utterly beautiful aura, always playing with him, carrying him in her arms and telling him fantasy stories with gestures and figures.

And with Daeron, Aenar loves it when he watches his favorite cartoons with him. Also eventually Aenar becomes his weakness, as he always fills him with more toys and always thinks of him to give him everything that makes him happy, even food.

And when Aenar cries, Daeron is the first of the siblings to come to him, slightly concerned and immediately wanting to make him feel good.

Meanwhile, your relationship with Aemond, while not resuming the romance of the past, transforms into a serene, enjoyable and respectful one. Aenar's upbringing becomes the main point of building his future and lacking nothing.

Although memories of the painful past persist, both have learned to cope and accept it, in order to move forward.

And eventually, in a significant moment and one that lasted hours of conversation between Aemond and you, also one that was an arduous process of documentation and much waiting, a culmination of a stage of your life is realized that further solidifies the unique connection between Aenar, Aemond and you.

A recognition that brings with it a clear message of commitment and love for the future of your family. The significant moment when Aemond asks for your permission to legally recognize his child and you allow him to do so.

It was not something you had to think about too much, as Aemond has shown you so much and the emotion in his eyes through his tears when you said yes, only further confirmed the fact that you were not making a wrong decision.

And everyone in the family celebrates when Aemond's last name is added to your son's name and he is finally named Aenar Targaryen.

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@imaegonstargaryenswife0 @bellstwd @gibbsgirl7 @toodlesxcuddles @imsoshygirl @croatianprincess @gemini-mama @a-little-roony-mara @mysteris-things @zenka69 @at-a-rax-ia @fan-goddess @duds31 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @eternally-passionate @bellaisasleep @ttkttt @aemshaircare @mellowdreamlandpost-blog @noodle81937 @mooncalvin @queenofshinigamis @n4tforlife @vexladin @dixie-elocin @wotcherpeak @watercolorskyy @shiny-trashs-blog @strangersunghoon @elysian0612 @skzenhalove @iloveallmyboys @cakescupcakesminicookies

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x y/n #hotd aemond #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x oc #aemond x reader #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen angst #aemond x y/n #modern hotd #modern au #modern aemond

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roosterforme · 9 months

Text

Always Ever Only You Part 11 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley gets a few second chances in the midst of a deployment he would rather not have to complete. He just wants to be home with you, trying to fix what is broken. But he doesn't know how much you've been struggling.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff

Length: 5100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

Bradley felt devastation. Were you really going to make him wait the full eight weeks before you would talk to him? He couldn't do it. He had too much to say, and he needed to see your face.

"Fuck." He entered your phone number and tried again. And again. But as he was about to enter it for the fourth time, he grasped the iPad and forced himself to stand.

"No answer?" the officer asked when Bradley handed it back to him. His response was somewhere between a nod and a shrug, and he felt like crying. "Want me to add you back onto the list?"

"Please," Bradley rasped, swallowing hard. It was still dinnertime. He could go back and get something to eat. But he'd lost his appetite, and even though he didn't mind bunking with Bob, having a few minutes alone in the room sounded like his best bet.

It felt like his feet weighed a ton as he walked along all three corridors and down a flight of stairs before he was at his bunk door. And then he collapsed onto his bed without even removing his boots. You always picked up. You always answered his calls. You even answered after Josh attacked you.

Bradley thought he was going to be sick. And then Bob unlocked the door and let himself inside. "Hey, Bob," he grunted, rubbing his temples with his fingers.

"Oh. You seem annoyed that I'm here," he replied, closing the door very slowly. "Do you want to kick me out again so you can have the bunk to yourself?"

Bradley turned and looked at him, thoroughly confused. "Again?"

Bob blushed a little bit as he kept his hand on the doorknob. "Uh, yeah. Last time we bunked together? A few years ago? You kicked me out of the room in the middle of the night."

Bradley sat up on his bed. "I did?"

"Yeah," Bob said softly. "You came back annoyed with me. You asked me to leave. You had a woman with you."

Bradley felt even sicker now. He could vaguely remember what Bob was talking about. A deployment before he met you. It had been late. He wanted to hook up. And Bob had been his roommate at the time.

"I can't believe I did that," Bradley whispered, getting to his feet and taking Bob by both shoulders, leading him away from the door. "That's never going to happen again." He gave him a quick hug. "I'm sorry. I don't want you to leave the bunk, okay? And I'm not going to hook up with anyone, unless my wife miraculously appears here and decides she still loves me."

Bob nodded. "She still loves you."

"I know she does," Bradley replied as he sank back down onto his bed. This time he removed his boots and tossed them next to the door. "I just need to do a lot better. I just want to have a happy wife."

"Yeah," Bob agreed, also untying his boots. "She makes you a lot better. You don't kick people out of their rooms anymore, and you always remember everyone's birthday."

Bradley groaned and nodded. "That's because she remembers everyone's birthday, and she reminds me."

Bob smiled and nodded as he pulled out some notebooks and a pen. "You were still annoyed though. When I came in just now. You can tell me why if you want to."

Bradley sat up and faced Bob across the few feet of space between their beds. "She didn't answer when I tried to call her. This is a first."

"Hmm," Bob hummed thoughtfully without saying anything else.

"Yeah," Bradley added. "There's a lot I want to tell her. Shit she deserves to hear. I'm afraid I'm going to forget or completely fuck it up by the time I get to talk to her."

Bob tried to hand him a notebook and his pen. "Write it down."

"Write what down?" Bradley asked, cautiously taking the offered items and flipping through the notebook which was empty.

"Write down all the things you want to say. I started journaling a few years ago to help organize my thoughts and manage my anxiety. I think it's helped me in a lot of ways, including making me a better, calmer aviator. But you could write notes to or about your wife. See what works."

And then Bob started writing in the other notebook, leaving Bradley to his own thoughts. He opened up to that first, pristine page and placed the pen to it.

Dear Baby Girl

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

You felt great after Sunday brunch with Cam and Maria. As soon as you got there, you said, "We've been trying to get pregnant. I'm not pregnant. Let's have mimosas and not talk about Bradley." And they listened. And it was wonderful. And it's not that you didn't want to talk about him or think about him, it was that you really needed a break. Because he was the only thing you were thinking about.

On Monday, as soon as you got to work, it felt like you were leaving again for your doctor's appointment. You didn't even want to go. You didn't want to get on the scale. Ever since you overdid it on your honeymoon months ago, you'd been afraid to weigh yourself, because you knew this could be adding to your issues.

When the nurse took your blood pressure and then told you to get onto the scale, you couldn't even look at the readout. You'd bring it up to the doctor in private, away from everyone else in the hallway.

And then you were led back to an exam room and left to squirm around on the paper covered table in the rough hospital gown while you stared at your uniform folded neatly on the chair by the door. Your name tag was boldly reminding you that you'd tacked Bradshaw onto your last name. When your doctor walked in, she used your full hyphenated name when she greeted you, and you tried to smile.

You thought about Bradley as you decided to get everything out of the way right from the start. "I want to talk about my weight. And fertility."

But a few minutes later, you were sitting with your mouth hanging slightly open. "You've lost almost fourteen pounds since this time last year. Were you intentionally trying to lose weight?" she asked, eyeing you carefully.

"N-No. I thought I gained a lot of weight. I've been nervous to check. I'm...trying to get pregnant."

She nodded and started to examine your eyes and ears as she said, "You need to make sure you're taking care of yourself. Eating well. Three meals a day. Healthy snacks. Exercising." Then she looked you in the eye. "Based on your age and general health, I can refer you to a specialist once you've been trying for eight to twelve cycles without success. And your husband can have some tests run then as well."

"Right," you replied with a soft sigh, thinking about Bradley's exceptionally fucking awesome sperm once again. But you cracked a smile. "I'm already five cycles in, so halfway there."

She nodded. "You just give me a call if you need to."

You left the medical building, still adjusting your uniform and wondering how you'd lost so much weight without noticing. But your pants were feeling a little loose now. And so was your shirt. They were snug after your honeymoon. Had you lost fourteen pounds in just a few months?

When you reached your car, you closed your eyes and swallowed past the lump in your throat. You were not taking very good care of yourself. You could barely remember the last time you had lunch at work or ate something other than a protein bar for breakfast. Memories of lavish weekend breakfasts with Bradley filled your mind. You'd be perched on his lap, sharing one plate full of eggs, bacon, potato pancakes and grilled vegetables. When was the last time you did that? Spent an hour eating breakfast together with the occasional brush of Bradley's mustache along your neck?

You had to wipe your tears away as you unlocked your door and climbed inside. You started the engine as you pulled your phone out of your bag.

"No!"

Missed FaceTime call from RESTRICTED

"Fuck!" Your fingers were shaking as you tried to enter your passcode. Then you tried to call back. Not Connected. Not Connected. Not Connected.

You sat in your car and cried. You missed a call from Bradley. It must have been him. You missed it by seven minutes. And now it could be weeks before you got another opportunity to talk to him.

Panic rose in your chest. He probably thought you ignored him. "Roo," you sobbed, resting your forehead on your steering wheel. You missed him so much, you felt sick most of the time. You were counting down the days to the start of your period, and you could remember how he used to plug your heating pad in for you and bring you Tylenol. He used to rub your back and share a bottle of wine. You missed him, and you wanted him back home, doing all the silly little things he used to do. You knew how good things could be.

"I'm sorry," you whispered as you looked at the missed call notification one more time. Then you turned your volume up to full blast. You'd take your phone everywhere from now on. You drove back to work with a sinking feeling in your chest. What if he didn't even bother trying to call you back again?

That thought stayed with you all day, and you had to force yourself to grab something to eat on your way back up to your office. You choked down a sandwich that tasted disgusting as you sat there alone.

You felt even worse the next day since you were barely able to sleep. And you knew you needed to eat something, but you couldn't even stomach any coffee. You headed right to work after you let Tramp out, and you didn't even make it to your lab before you ran into your boss.

"Meet me in my office, Lieutenant Commander," Captain Bickel told you. "I need you to look over some paperwork that came in from Annapolis on the overlapping project."

"Right now, sir?" you asked softly. Your body was practically trembling with anxiety.

"Yes," he replied, and your heart sank. You followed him down the hallway, each step harder to physically complete than the last. When you sank down into the chair across from his desk, he handed you a folder. Your hand visibly shook as you took it from him, and you were almost too nauseous to feel embarrassed. Almost.

Heat and sweat broke out on your neck, and the cool air gave you goosebumps. You could feel every little hair on your body stand up on end as you listened to your boss talking, but nothing was processing in your mind. That missed call had you in almost constant hysterics, and you didn't know who to talk to about it. Nobody would understand how much of a fucking big deal this was to you. You promised Bradley you'd always answer his calls. You promised him.

"Is that right?" Bickel asked you, his voice sounding muffled to your ears. "Lieutenant Commander? Is that right?"

You looked down at the unopened folder in your lap, and tears started to stream down your cheeks. It didn't even feel like you were crying. But you must be? It didn't make sense at all, but when you opened your mouth, you heard a choked sob as you tried to meet his eyes.

He was around the desk, kneeling in front of your chair immediately. "Hey," he kept saying over and over again, and you wanted to tell him to stop, but you just kept crying. There was soft pressure on the back of your hand where his palm was resting. You were still trying to meet his eyes, and when you finally did, he used your first name. "Are you okay?"

You sucked in so much air that it hurt your insides. Everything was uncomfortable and too quiet, and you could barely speak, but you managed to say, "I don't know."

So he just sat there with you as you gulped in more air that hurt while your head throbbed. It probably took you a long time until the weight of your body in the chair felt normal again, and you realized you were sitting in your own sweat. You were hungry and gross and you missed your husband. When your boss asked, "What can I do for you?" the only thing you could do right away was shrug.

But a few beats later, you managed to whisper, "Do you remember when Josh was here, and you asked me if I wanted to talk to someone?"

His face looked even more alarmed now, but you didn't have the energy to explain anything to him. "Yes," he replied, and he stood and reached for his phone. You clutched at Bradley's wedding band through the fabric of your shirt.

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

"The better plan for a more efficient flight path would be to take out the communications tower first and then strike their base," Admiral Dean informed the group of aviators for about the hundredth time. Bradley could have drawn the terrain maps from memory by now. He also couldn't help but think that the admirals were making sure that Slayer, Charmer and the other children were keeping up with the plans. "But we'll decide on the day of the mission which tactical option is better. Any questions?"

"Sir, what does the terrain look like again?" Charmer asked politely.

"Very good question," Dean replied, and Bradley gritted his teeth. It was a fucking idiotic question, and the rest of the room know it. He could practically feel the rage rolling off of Phoenix. If anyone from Top Gun had asked that question, the admiral would have snapped. Plus, Charmer and Slayer had taken to referring to Nat as Honey, which almost sent Bradley through the roof every single time.

When everyone was dismissed for lunch, he was the first one out of the room, taking out his phone and opening it up to the notes app. Writing in the notebook from Bob every night had actually been more helpful than he expected, and occasionally he added a note to his phone so he would remember to write it down that night. He wasn't writing love letters exactly. They were more like little notes in which he was trying to describe how he felt about you. Trying to put into sentences everything he wanted to change, and also the things he wanted to stay the same.

But the notebook was for him. You didn't need to read it. He'd keep it and look at it when he got home and started trying to put his marriage back on track.

"Hey, Honey, you think you should be eating a sandwich instead of making me a sandwich?" Bradley looked up from his phone only to realize he had made it all the way to the dining hall. And Slayer was acting like a complete prick to Nat. She was the only female aviator on this detachment, which usually wouldn't have been an issue, but it was right now.

Bradley saved the note he had written, and he turned to Slayer and calmly said, "Do you know how to shut your mouth, or do I need to show you?"

Loud booming laughter filled the space between them. "Old man, you couldn't show me how to do jack fucking shit. Except maybe nail your dog of a wife with a limp dick."

Bradley was for a split second reminded of the last time you and he had sex, and he could feel his cheeks start to flush. The thing was, Bradley didn't really mind the attention being on him instead of Nat or Bob, but this is what seemed to make his best friend snap. Nat snatched his phone out of his hand and held up the lock screen, which was actually a photo of you from the honeymoon. In your red bikini. With your tits pressed together and a dirty little smirk on your face. Bradley snapped it about a minute after he finished fucking you on the deck next to the pool.

"Does she look like a dog to you?" Nat asked the guys, and their eyes bugged out. This was bad. "No, she does not. And I'm not your Honey. Stop harassing me. Stop harassing Rooster. And stop harassing Bob."

But Slayer was still laughing. "She's hot, old man. She's definitely fucking around behind your back. Doubt you can keep up. Hell, I'd nail her."

"Me too," Charming added as Bradley tucked his phone away in his pocket. And now Nat seemed to realize she shouldn't have reacted the way she did. Because Bradley was pissed. These fucking dipshits were really just the cherry on top of an already shitty deployment.

"Let's get out of here," Nat said, about to reach for his arm.

"I'm cool," Bradley snarled, even though he felt anything but. "Let's get some food." He picked up a tray and gripped it with white knuckles as he piled it up at random with food he didn't even really want. His mind was unfocused, and now he was thinking about how easy it actually would be for you to cheat on him while he was deployed. But that was a two way street, and he didn't want to open that horrible thought up inside of himself.

"I'm sorry," Nat whispered as the two of them found a seat while Bob meandered over like he was unfazed by everything. Because he probably was. He had invited Bradley to join him while he meditated each night before bed. At first Bradley thought it seemed silly, but perhaps he was actually onto something.

"Don't apologize, Nat."

"I shouldn't have taken your phone-"

"It's fine," he said, cutting her off. He was too tired to converse as he bit into his food. But it tasted like shit, so when he heard his name being called, he didn't mind the interruption. "I'm Bradshaw," he told the deckhand who was carrying an envelope.

"What's that?" Nat asked, leaning over his arm as he opened it and pulled out a handwritten note on thick, creamy paper.

"Holy shit," Bradley muttered. "It's from the commanding officer."

Her eyes bugged out. "As in the captain of the aircraft carrier?"

"Looks like it," Bradley replied as he read the note.

Lieutenant Commander B. Bradshaw,

You may use my personal communication device this evening at 2300 hours in my study.

Admiral Berry

He wasn't sure what exactly was going on, but given the chance, he would absolutely try to call you again.

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

You looked at Dr. Genevieve in her khaki uniform with her hair pulled up into a tight bun. She reminded you of your mom with her placid smile and sharp eyes. You were sitting in a soft, brown leather chair across from her, sipping some lemonade and eating the pretzel sticks Bickel gave you. And you already felt a lot better, although slightly embarrassed. But you were here now. And she was more than willing to talk to you.

"I... should have probably come here a few weeks ago," you said softly before taking one last sip of your drink.

"Today's a good day to talk," she replied, but she didn't rush you.

"Yeah," you said, nodding as you ran your palm down the arm of the chair in her office on base. "That's probably true. I'm... struggling? For lack of a better word? I guess?"

"That word is okay to use. But struggling is normal, Lieutenant Commander. It's something we all do."

So you took a deep, shaky breath and let it out slowly. "I had a panic attack. In front of my boss," you groaned, covering your eyes with your hand.

She kind of shrugged. "That's a pretty safe place for that kind of thing."

"I guess so," you replied with a little laugh. But then your face fell as you played with a stray thread on your uniform shirt. "I'm afraid I messed up my marriage," you said, barely loud enough for her to hear. But when you met her eyes through your tears, you were certain she heard you. "And I want to fix all of it, but I don't know how."

And with a few words of encouragement from her, you let loose. If you had to guess, you thought you must have gone on for ten minutes without stopping. You told this woman everything, and with each passing sentence, it started to feel easier to keep going. She took a few notes, and asked a few followup questions, but ultimately she let you talk as much as you wanted to. About whatever you wanted to.

And even though you were exhausted and your uniform was uncomfortable, you felt so much better as you said, "I was getting my physical the other day. And I had so many questions for my doctor, and I've been so focused on trying to get pregnant. Apparently I lost weight. And I know I haven't been eating. And I think I can get better. Used to be a lot better. But when I finally thought to check my phone, I missed a call from Bradley. And I'm so afraid he thinks I didn't want to talk to him," you gasped as your voice cracked.

As the back of your head came to rest against the leather, you closed your eyes. You could just picture him and the way he smiled at you. The way he had always smiled just for you. And maybe you should feel more like crying right now, but you were just too fucking tired.

Dr. Genevieve waited until you were looking at her again before she asked, "You'd want to talk to your husband now? If you could have the chance?"

"Yes, but God... it could be weeks before he's allowed to call again. If at all." Just thinking about it had that cold, clammy feeling building inside you again.

"Hmm," she hummed. "You said he's on the Theodore Roosevelt?"

"Yep," you replied. "Good old, Teddy. He told me he's been deployed to that vessel more than any other," you said, feeling like you were at the point of rambling nonsense now. But at least your heart was no longer pounding behind your eyes.

"Well, I'll see what I can do."

After that, you left her office and Bickel dismissed you for the day. But Dr. Genevieve told you to keep your phone on you, and you promised you would. And perhaps you should have been mortified when you got home only to answer the door twenty minutes later for a delivery guy, but you weren't.

"I didn't order any food," you told him, but he just handed you two bags and left without asking you to pay. When you took the bags to the kitchen and emptied them onto the counter, you saw a receipt that said it had been charged to J. Bickel. "Oh," you gasped, and Tramp looked up at you. "Yeah, he's pretty chill," you informed your dog about your boss.

And then you cut the enormous sandwich in half and carried it to the dining room table along with the soup and salad. You ate until you couldn't physically take another bite, and then you got into a hot bath and stayed there until the water turned cool.

It wasn't even 6 o'clock when you got yourself into bed, but your belly was full and you felt clean. And it had been such a relief to talk to someone who you'd never met before about every dirty detail you'd been living with. Your chest didn't hurt as much, and you didn't feel as helpless.

You rubbed Tramp's belly, and just as you turned to plug your phone in, it started ringing. You gasped and dropped it on the floor. "Shit!" You almost fell out of bed as you scrambled for it. You'd caught a glimpse of Restricted Caller on the screen, but you wanted to make sure.

"Bradley?" you nearly shrieked as you answered the call and finally got to see your husband's face. "Bradley!"

"Baby Girl," he rasped, and you sank to the floor as you smiled and started to cry.

"I'm sorry," you said quickly as he shook his head. "I'm so sorry I let you leave without making sure you heard me when I told you I love you. Because I love you, and I miss you. And I'm sorry I didn't answer your call on Monday! But I was at my doctor's appointment!"

"Shh," he soothed, his eyes glued on yours as he shook his head again. "It's okay. I love you. And I don't need you to apologize for any of that right now. I'm the one who's sorry. I'm so sorry I let you down."

"Roo."

"I just need to know you still love me."

"Of course I still love you," you sobbed, wiping your eyes on his soft UVA shirt. "Bradley, I always will."

His eyes dipped down. "You're wearing my ring, Sweetheart?"

You nodded and reached for the charms and his wedding band where they hung. "Why did you leave it?" you asked in a tiny, pathetic voice. "I hate that you're not wearing your ring."

He gave you a funny look. "I am," he insisted, holding up his left hand for you to see.

"What's that?" you asked, examining something that was very much not his wedding band.

"The silicone ring I told you I was ordering. I actually hate it," he said with a laugh. "You look so beautiful."

"When did you tell me you were ordering a silicone ring?" you asked.

"I don't know," he murmured. "A month ago? I put it on the shopping list on the fridge and asked if you wanted one, too. God, you look so beautiful."

But you just stared at him before springing to your feet and taking your phone into the kitchen. "Oh," you gasped. The magnetic whiteboard was partly covered by a piece of paper, and the marker had gotten smudged, but there it was. Bradley's pre deployment shopping list. You had been so distracted lately, nothing was sticking in your mind when it should have been. "I'm so sorry."

"Hey, Sweetheart," he said, and you looked back at your phone. "I wouldn't have left you without a ring on. Ever. And I can't wait to get back home and get the real thing off your necklace chain and put it back on my finger."

"You can't wait?" you asked, matching his little smile with your own.

"Of course I can't wait. I'm ready to come home now. I love you. Being away from you and feeling uncertain has been terrifying."

You couldn't believe how calm he sounded. Like he was just waiting to hear from you and see you, knowing everything would be okay. "I've been having a rough time," you said very softly as you walked back toward the bedroom. "It hasn't been okay."

He looked more concerned now. "We'll fix it," he promised. "As soon as we're together, we will fix it. No matter what it takes. You are my top priority. And that's never going to change. You understand?"

"Yeah," you whispered as you climbed back into bed.

"If you're not happy with me, then I need to try harder and do better," he promised. "Until there's no doubt in your mind about how much I love you. And I don't need anything else."

There was an unspoken undertone of how the two of wanted and had been trying for a baby. But you didn't want to be the one to say it. "You're sure you don't need anything else?"

He nodded and said, "I'm sure, Sweetheart. I'd be lucky to get to spend the rest of my life with you. Just you. Me and you."

You felt calm in a way you hadn't been in months. It felt like you were melting back into your pillow as Bradley said, "Now why don't you tell me how you pulled this one off. Because I'm sitting in the Commanding Officer's quarters right now, using Admiral Berry's personal iPad."

You laughed, realizing he was sitting in front of an elaborate looking bookshelf as he smiled at you. "I think Admiral Berry is married to Dr. Genevieve Berry." And when you told him you had a panic attack at work and talked to a therapist on base, your husband said he was proud of you for taking care of yourself.

"I haven't been though, Roo," you whispered sadly as you burrowed down in the blankets. "Not really."

"I'm the one who hasn't been taking good enough care of both of us. I promise that's going to change when I get home. I need it to, and you deserve it."

Your body shook slightly with a quiet sob, and you nodded. "My period is going to start soon."

"Okay," he said softly. "We're not worrying about that right now. But I wish I was home to plug in your heating pad and rub your feet."

"Me, too. I love you." It felt so good to say it to him. His lips parted like he had something to say, then you saw him look to his right.

"Right, absolutely," he said to someone off screen. "No problem."

When he was facing you again, you asked, "You have to go?"

"I do," he confirmed with a frown. "But first, can you promise me a few things?"

"Yes."

"You'll make sure you're getting enough sleep and eating enough? And talking to someone if you feel like you're struggling?"

"I promise. And, Roo? If you call and I don't answer, it's because I couldn't, okay? I always want to hear from you."

He smiled and exhaled in visible relief. "I understand. I love you. See you in a few weeks."

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

Can we...can we breathe a little bit now? Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 12

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fruitsoxs · 7 months

Text

this is long so i'm putting some under read more

BUT- Thinking about Astarion with a generally good tav/reader. I’m thinking it’s sort of an enemies to lovers type deal, where the two of you start off the adventure by bickering constantly over what to do. You always want to do the right thing, and it absolutely infuriates Astarion. He pushes back whenever he can, because your little rag tag group has other matters that are much more important than saving children, or rescuing girls from some hag. But of course, he’s always outvoted. You are easily annoyed by his constant complaining whenever you want to do something good, and so of course the two of you are almost always at each other's throats.

“Oh I’m sorry that I actually have a heart.” “You should be- we have other matters to attend to. Like, well I don't know, the thing inside our heads!”

However, there are moments where Astarion comes to learn that he genuinely likes your kind heart. When you easily forgive him for…hiding what he truly is. Or how you lie when a hunter is out and about. There are moments where you tend to his wounds in complete silence, gently wrapping a bandage around his arm. And when he says a quiet thank you, you simply nod and move on.

He’d never say this out loud, and of course continues to act as if you are nothing but a nuisance, but he starts to appreciate you little by little. You are not just some naïve adventurer who will drop dead if someone were to ask. You are the strongest person he knows, someone he could depend on if needed. He watches you fuss over the group, solving everyone’s problems. He sees how much work you put into making everyone comfortable, and how little you ask for in return. And while he thinks you’re a little stupid for it, he also recognizes that most of his disdain comes from the fact that he wishes he had someone like you to save him when he was at his lowest. If good people like you exist, then why did nobody come to his aid?

So maybe he gets less snippy. He doesn’t roll his eyes every time you put the mission on hold to do favors for others. Maybe he starts to fall for you little by little.

And maybe it all becomes clear to him when you get hurt.

It was supposed to be an easy little mission. A peaceful meeting that you were sure you could talk your way out of (it always surprised him how easily you could lie your way out of fights). And of course, Astarion and you just had to get in a little spat beforehand, so he stays at the campsite while you’re off bringing peace to the world. He doesn’t expect to see the others come rushing into camp, dragging your weak body along. He doesn’t expect to see you so pale, fighting for your very life-

He rushes to your side, demanding to know what happened. Something went wrong, and somehow you ended up stabbed with a poisoned dagger in the midst of a fight. He feels his insides churn when they lay you down on a bed roll, and he watches as you give him a weak smile.

“Hey fangs.” you manage to get out, entering a coughing fit shortly after. Your smile almost fades when you notice how scared Astarion looks. It isn’t like him to be so worried. You don’t like seeing him like that so you whisper. “It’s gonna be okay-” And gods does it infuriate Astarion that you’re still trying to help others, help him, when you’re basically dying by his side. So he snaps a bit.

“And how do you know that?” He bites at you, pain and anger in his voice. You flinch a bit, letting a silence take over for a second. You slowly reach out to grab his shaking hand, your grip so weak. “Just trust me.”

He sits by your side, barking orders at everyone else- demanding someone heal you. He’s a bit of a prick as Shadowheart kneels down to tend to your wounds. He seems so angry, but everyone can see the way he’s clinging to your hand. Everyone knows what’s going on. And after you’re healed, and left to recover, he stays by your side.

When the rest of the camp is asleep, he gently pushes your hair out of your face while looking you over. He’s just now realized how hard he’s fallen. While you’re protecting everyone else someone has to protect you. He may as well be that person.

#and everyone else is just watching you two fight going “yeah when are they gonna just fucking kiss already?”#socks thoughts #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion drabble #astarion x reader #astarion headcanons

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coffeeshades · 1 year

Text

credits to the gif maker!

LOVE IS COMPLICATED - PART III

summary: the trials and tribulations of falling in love or two idiots who are obliviously in love.

pairing: pedro pascal x actress/singer!reader.

word count: 13.5k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). filthy smut. angst. cussing, age gap, mentions of drugs and alcohol. no use of y/n, if i missed something please let me know!

a/n: i know i made you guys wait a lot for this but i wanted it to be perfect and i was really busy but it's finally here now! thank you for the love on the first two parts, i love all of you. happy reading!!!

"Oh yes! I forgot about the most exciting part. It's your friend, Pedro Pascal."

You're not sure who it's exciting for, because it's certainly not you. Sure, Jon had no idea what had happened between you and Pedro, but you were hoping he did at the time. Because if he did, he wouldn't be gushing about how exciting it is that the two of you are going to collaborate.

You try to hide your dismay and muster up a smile as Jon continues to talk about how great Pedro is. You can't help but wonder how you're going to make it through this project without letting your personal issues with Pedro get in the way of your work and finally driving you into insanity.

Regardless, you know you have to remain professional and focused. It's just a job.

"Does he know about me?" you hesitantly ask.

"Yeah, he's known for awhile." Jon replies, "We asked him not to mention anything, but I've gotta say I'm surprised he actually didn't."

"I've got to say I'm surprised too."

•••

For the next few weeks, the only thing on your mind was Pedro. You couldn't stop thinking about what he might have said or what he thought when he found out you were going to work together. This war between you and your brain was pretty stupid because you could just call him or send him a quick text.

Hey, guess what? We're finally going to work together! :)

Simple as that.

The problem was that you didn't want to be the one to bring it up first. You weren't the type to hold a grudge over trivial matters, but here you were, silently punishing him for what he did last month.

One of your last shows on the tour was in New York, and as usual, you invited most of your friends. Even though Pedro had been living in London for the last few months, you still sent him a text inviting him. He had taken a flight for other stuff, so it was safe to assume he would make the effort for this as well.

You: Hey! I know you're in London, but my show at MSG is next week, and everyone's coming. I would like for you to come too :)

Pedrito: Hi, my schedule here is pretty tight for next week. I'm sorry. Next time?

You: Bummer. Sure.

Despite your disappointment, you understood the situation perfectly. His work schedule has become quite hectic recently, as he has been traveling and shooting movies in various locations such as Hawaii, Boston, and now London. Your schedules no longer seemed to be in sync, and neither of you made an effort to rearrange your plans to fit the other.

Those months he spent filming with Oscar in Hawaii were by far the worst. Mostly because they were having fun and you weren't part of it. To put it mildly, the FOMO nearly killed you. The group chat and his Instagram were filled with pictures of them surfing, hiking, and exploring the island while you were miles away alone.

The night of the show arrived, and everything went smoothly as planned, leaving you with a feeling of relief and satisfaction. That later changed when, backstage, in the midst of winding down, Oscar approached you with a smile, "Too bad Pedro couldn't make it, he would've loved this outfit."

You smile as you look down at your own stage outfit, knowing he'd like it because of its purple color.

"Too bad he's in London," you reply back.

Oscar's face falls slightly as he responds, "London?"

You nod as you chug down the last of your water bottle.

"No, he got here days ago," he says, huffing a laugh. "I called him so we could ride together, but he never answered. I figured I would run into him here."

"Oh."

Oscar's expression is slightly puzzled, as if he's trying to connect the dots between the two statements. "Is everything okay between you guys?"

You wanted to lie so bad; say yes and play it cool. After all, that's what you two have been doing for the past nine months: playing pretend. But this whole exchange has caught you off guard, and you're not sure if you want to continue with the facade or finally be honest about the situation.

"I don't know anymore."

Your attention snapped back to the present.

For days, you tried to brush it off and convince yourself that it was no big deal, but deep down, you couldn't shake off the feeling of disappointment and hurt. He had been there and chose not to go. Not even a call or text to explain or apologize. Nothing.

So, no. You weren't going to text him first, were you?

Manhattan Beach Studios, Los Angeles.

October 2018.

If somebody had told Pedro three years ago that he would be starring as a bounty-hunting badass in a signature Star Wars series, he would've laughed in their face. But here he was, about to start the table read for the first episode of The Mandalorian, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves as he waited to see how his character would come to life on screen.

It was a pinch-me moment. He had come a long way since his early days as a struggling actor, and he was grateful for the opportunity to work with such talented people on a project that was sure to be groundbreaking. As he looked around the room at his fellow cast members and crew, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and accomplishment.

Until his eyes landed on you.

He then felt shame and guilt for how he handled things a month before. He knows he fucked up. You're sitting across from him, the heavy, discerning quality of your gaze sending shivers down his spine. It's as if you're peering right through him, past the gleaming politeness to the rough edges beneath. If looks could kill, he'd be a dead man.

Your expression says, "Wipe that smile off your face. There's nothing to be happy about."

He was convincing himself that he didn't exactly know what drove him not to tell you the truth about his availability. Except he did. His time away from you had allowed him to get you out of his system, and he didn't want to fall back down the maybe-I-have-feelings-for you rabbit hole again. So in true Pedro fashion, he avoided it.

He knew he'd be back in New York for your concert when you texted him. Yet he boldly lied. And it bit him in the ass.

He couldn't throw away all the progress the two of you had made, so he knew he had to make amends for his behavior before it was too late. He made a mental note to talk to you after the reading was over.

•••

The reading was over in what seemed like an eyeblink. You were so thrilled to be part of this, and even given everything that has happened between you two, you would be lying if you said you weren't happy you're doing this with him.

Though you weren't doing a particularly good job of displaying it. You barely talked to him when you got here, quickly exchanging hellos and moving on to something else.

You were settling into your trailer with your agent, going over some details, when you heard a knock. Your agent quickly rises to unlock the door as you continue to put some of your things in a drawer. When the door opens, you hear him before you see him. "Taylor, Taylor, Taylor!"

Taylor couldn't help but laugh at his antics, and you can't either. A smile formed on your lips as you closed the drawer before collecting yourself and remembering that you were really mad at him.

"Pedro, long time no see!" she says as they hug and exchange pleasantries.

Taylor looks my way. "I am going to get some of those snacks we saw earlier," she says, "I'll be back in a bit."

As she exits the trailer, you make your way to the door. Pedro is standing there, dressed in a black sweatshirt, olive green trousers, and white sneakers, which you can only describe as attractive.

Needless to say, he was making it difficult for you to hate him right now.

•••

Pedro's mind goes completely blank when he sees you; it's as if he has forgotten everything else around him and all he can focus on is you, making it hard for him to form coherent sentences.

"You cut your hair," he blurted.

"Yes."

"It looks very pretty; I like it."

"Is that why you came here?" you inquire, "to tell me my hair's pretty?"

"No, I came here to apologize," he replies back as he steps into the trailer and closes the door behind him. He watches you sit on the edge of the sofa that adorned the room, hands on each side of you, waiting for him to continue.

He takes a deep breath. "I know I messed up and hurt you. I just wanted to make things right, kid."

"Why?"

"Because you’re the last person in the world I want to upset. That would be, like, devastating."

"Hmm," you hum, a blank expression on your face, "you're not doing a very good job at it."

Pedro couldn't help but smirk at your jab, "Clearly. You looked like you were plotting my murder in there."

"Oh, I already know where I'm going to hide your body."

His laugh fills the room, and your face softens. He began walking towards the couch, and you both slumped back into it at the same time. "It's nothing really; I'm over it," you say, staring at the wall.

Pedro tilts his head to look at you, "When will you learn that you're so bad at lying that it's not worth even trying?"

You face him, your beautiful eyes catching him off guard. "This is the worst apology ever, by the way."

"I know, princesa," he says softly. "But I mean it. I'm sorry I didn't go, and I'm sorry it took me this long to apologize."

You slowly nod, your face displaying a hint of uncertainty. As if you're trying to figure out whether he's sincere or not, which he wishes you didn't have to even wonder about. "It's okay if you didn't want to go; I just wish you would've said that instead of lying and making me look like an idiot, P."

No, no, no. I wanted to go, but I'm a fucking coward.

Your words pierced him like a dagger, and the pang of guilt washed over him again. He's been drowning in it for the past few weeks, but to actually hear the disappointment in your voice is a completely different beast.

Before he could even muster up a response, you speak again, "But I forgive you."

Pedro's breathing slowed down as you placed a hand on his thigh, and he heard those words. He reciprocated the gesture and then put his hand over yours, gripping it softly, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Good," he says, "because now we can properly freak out about this," excitement overflowing through him as he couldn't keep it in anymore.

He needed to share this with you. When the creators of the show approached him, you were the first person that came to his mind. One of the things you've always wanted to be part of was Star Wars, so he knew you would be jealous to find out he was cast in this and couldn't wait to give you a hard time, just like Oscar did when he got the role of Poe.

That plan quickly fell apart when the creators revealed they were bringing you aboard, and even though it meant he couldn't torture you any longer, he was overjoyed you were going to be by his side in this.

“You must be ecstatic,” you tell him, your hands still connected, "this is a big deal."

"Yeah, who would've thought?"

"I did," you attempt to correct yourself, but it’s too late. Pedro has already saved the words for later in his mind. "I mean, we did! We all did. Your friends, I mean. We knew things were only going to get better for you. Even before I met you, I knew you were going to do great things. Sarah talked about it all the time, too, and we're pretty sure this is only the beginning."

He's stunned at the rambling explanation of your thoughts about his rising career. He looks at you with gratitude in his eyes, feeling fortunate to have supportive people like you in his life who believe in him.

The lack of hesitation in your voice did the opposite of what your words had done; it cooled down the hope that had lit up like a flame in his chest.

"Now, come on, let's find Taylor and those snacks," you tell him as you rise up from the couch and extend your hand to him, "I'm hungry, and we still have costume fittings," you add. He puts his hand in yours, restraining himself and letting you struggle to pull him up as you try your hardest to do so.

"You asshole!" you yell, tightening your grip on his hand, "Stop that and get up!"

He can't stop laughing as you finally manage to pull him up. "you need to work on your strength, baby," he says between chuckles.

You scoff and playfully hit him on the shoulder, "My strength is fine, thank you."

"Ow! Who's the asshole now?" he exclaims, rubbing his shoulder.

“And don't call me baby,” you tell him. "I forgave you, but that doesn't mean I'm not still mad at you."

"I don't think it works that way, baby."

"José Pedro!" you exclaim, clearly irritated.

"Sorry, old habits die hard."

The next two months were amazing, to say the least. It's as if all the two of you needed was to work together on a TV series to realize how much you needed to be together. Just like your on-screen characters, you two were tied to work together by a third thing, that thing being, of course, the child.

Speaking of the child, you were obsessed with it. You couldn't believe a green, Yoda-like animatronic puppet could win your heart in such a short period of time, but here you were. It was magical. Truth be told, everything about The Mandalorian was magical.

Every day you had to step on that immaculate set that's built and surrounded by volume, which creates an infinite sort of visual experience in terms of skies, planets, space, ships, and all kinds of things, was magical.

It just felt like you were stepping onto these highly sophisticated amusement park rides, with very little being left to the imagination because of how incredible the design work is from all the departments.

Another magical thing was seeing Pedro bring the character to life. His ability to convey so much depth and complexity to a character that is mostly hidden behind a mask is truly impressive. From crafting his "Mandalorian" walk and stance to his deep, jarring voice.

That voice.

That voice was made to torture you and send shivers down your spine. That voice made you forget all of your life's problems. Actually, that voice was made for one thing and one thing only, the bedroom.

"Oh my god, it doesn't sound like a bedroom voice!" he protested, as he highlighted lines in his script.

You were joining him and the creators in the recording booth for his voiceover session.

"It does! It's a sexy bedroom voice." you teased, making everyone laugh. "That's not very Disney of you, P."

He gets closer to the mic and whispers, voice altered because of the modulator, "Bite me."

"See? It works perfectly."

•••

You were having as much fun as you could. Simply put, you two were menaces on set.

You could tell Jon, Dave, and the rest of the crew were patient with your antics, but it was clear that they were also entertained by your on-set dynamic. It's not everyday that you get to work with your best friend, and you two made it everyone's problem.

Although sometimes you have to admit you take it a little too far.

"Catch me if you can, Boba Fett wannabe!" you scream.

Pedro was chasing you through the set with a prop sword, trying to get you to stop teasing him about his costume. "You are one insult away from getting a taste of this sword!"

"Okay, tin can man!"

You were running away from him as fast as you could, hoping to find a place to hide before he caught up with you. You quickly hide behind one of the makeup trailers and peek out to see him come to a stop, catching his breath. He was wearing his Beskar getup, minus the helmet.

“Give up yet, old man?"

He laughs. "We're being extra cruel today, huh?"

Taking advantage of his momentary pause and facing away from where you were hiding, you slowly inch closer to him, trying not to make a sound. As you get within arm's reach, you draw one of your prop knives from your costume pocket and hold it to his back. Using your free hand to hold him steady, you lean in and whisper in his ear, "I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold."

He turns his head slightly, and you can see the smirk on his face. "That's my line, thief."

Before you could pull away, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you back toward him. He takes hold of you and tightens his grasp on your waist. "Let me go, P!"

You struggle to break free from his grasp, but he only holds you tighter. "I am going to squeeze you so hard you will fart," he chuckles.

You snort. "You have such a way with words."

As you try to wriggle out of his grasp, you accidentally elbow him in the face, causing him to release his hold on you and stumble into a piece of plywood that had been propped up.

"Aw, fuck!" he cries out, clutching his nose.

"Holy shit, I'm sorry!" you rush to him, cupping his face. "Are you hurt?"

He removes his hand from his nose, revealing a cut and a trickle of blood. "It's alright, just a bloody nose," he says calmly.

You touch his nose gingerly, and he winces in pain. "Nevermind, I think it is broken."

•••

You begged Jon to let you ride to the hospital with them; after all, this was your fault. When you get there, the doctors rush to Pedro's side and begin examining him.

If you weren't preoccupied with being mortified over this, you'd laugh.

The scene before you is straight out of a sitcom, with Jon frantically explaining the situation to the doctors, Pedro in full costume with fake injuries and blood that you were pretty sure the doctors thought were real, and you standing there with an expression that screamed: Hey! It's me! I did this!

After a couple of minutes of clearing up that it was an accident and that the blood coming out of his ears was fake and not the cause of a brain hemorrhage, one of the doctors led us to a room to examine his nose.

"It's not broken," the doctor said, as she prepared to clean the wound. "He's just going to need a couple of stitches."

"Oh great, we still need to finish a scene, and they're waiting for us." Jon replies.

"This will take 15 minutes, tops," she says, grabbing a tray of medical supplies. “I will be fast.”

"I'll call the guys," Jon tells you as he exits the room.

You nod in agreement and stand in a corner as you silently watch the doctor carefully clean, anesthetize and stitch up the wound. You feel relieved that it wasn't anything more serious.

After she finishes, Pedro thanks her, and she nods with a smile. "You're going to need to take some analgesics for the pain. I'm gonna go grab my prescription pad. I'll be right back."

She exits the room, and you walk over to Pedro. He moves his head slightly, showing off his nose.

"How does it look?" he asks teasingly.

Your cheeks warm with embarrassment. "I can't believe I ruined your perfect nose."

"Who said it isn't perfect still?" he says it as if it were a challenge. His brow is arched, with the tiniest smirk hidden in one corner of his mouth.

"Don't start. I'm mortified."

"Tranquila, princesa. I said it was okay after you apologized 20 times on our way here," he reassures you. "Plus, now we have a funny story to tell during our press tour next year."

You sigh. "I guess you're right."

"You know," he says, "what hurts right now is that today is our last day of shooting. I can't believe it's been two months already. Time fucking flew."

Your heart sinks as you're once again reminded that this amazing experience is coming to an end. The day you've been dreading for weeks is finally here, and you're not ready to say goodbye. It's not like you already know you'll be back next year for the next season, but you're not ready to say goodbye to him and the daily routine you've formed, which mostly consists of breakfasts together, long hours on set, and late-night movie marathons.

"Yeah, I'm trying not to think about it," you muttered, "gonna miss our little routine."

Pedro studies you. "Maybe we can extend it for a little while longer."

Not knowing where this is going, you raise an eyebrow inquisitively. Pedro smiles, "I..I was thinking maybe... maybe you could come with me to Chile for Christmas with the family."

Your heart skips a beat as you process Pedro's words. You open your mouth slightly to say something, but you close it again, momentarily speechless, overwhelmed by the unexpected invitation.

"Uh… I know you probably have plans with your family,” he interjects, “but I thought this would be a good time for you to finally meet my father and the rest of the family, and—"

Before he could finish, you nodded eagerly, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of spending Christmas in Chile with Pedro and his family, “Yes, I would love to."

You've never seen him smile as broadly as he does now, and you know that you have made the right decision.

New York City

December 15, 2018

“Dude, he invited you to his hometown with his family, and you still think that man has no feelings for you?”

“Taylor...” you paused, picking up a clothing item that had fallen to the floor. “It's just a friendly gesture.”

“Yeah, I'm sure he invites everyone to his hometown to spend the holidays with his family. Sureee.”

You didn't want to go there; you'd promised yourself that you wouldn't get entangled in what ifs, so your friend's teasing wasn't helping you keep those thoughts at bay.

“I told you, he doesn't like me like that. I know he doesn't,” you say, suddenly remembering that night when you overheard him telling Sarah how he felt about you. “Plus, as my agent, you more than anyone know I can't do relationships right now; my life's too busy."

Taylor finished zipping up the last of your bags for the trip and gave you a reassuring smile. "I know, but it doesn't hurt to have a little fun, does it? And who knows—maybe he has changed his mind. Just enjoy the trip and have fun."

No, he hasn’t changed his mind.

“Yeah, I just want to have a good time, really. Things have been so good between us these past couple of months, It just feels...right again. I don’t wanna mess it up.”

"Understandable, bestie. However, I think you’re both making a huge mistake.”

You shake your head in amusement. “Thanks for helping me pack.”

“Thanks?” she scoffs. "I'm expecting a raise."

Santiago, Chile

December 20, 2018

After the chaos of the day leading up to the flight, it was actually a relief to be sitting here. The large, comfortable seat, with your feet tucked up under you as you gazed out the jet window, felt very much deserved.

While the gentle buzz of the flight filled your ears, you laid your head against the window of the plane and watched the clouds and the seemingly endless expanse of sky fly by.

As you began to drift off, you did your best to keep your attention on what was outside the plane rather than allowing your mind to wander to what would await you once you arrived at your destination. The mixture of excitement and exhaustion lulled you into a peaceful slumber, dreaming of the journey that lay ahead.

•••

The taxi ride from the airport to the Balmaceda-Pascal's was a blur of unfamiliar sights and sounds, but you couldn't help feeling a sense of wonder and curiosity as you took in the new surroundings. As the car comes to a stop in front of the house, you shoot Pedro a quick text.

You: I'm here, tonto.

Pedrito: I'll be right outside, tonta.

Since you still had a few things to attend to in New York, he had arrived two days earlier. After insisting like a madman that he could pick you up from the airport and you insisting like a madwoman that you could easily get there on your own, he gave up and let you take a cab.

The driver has already gotten out of the car to wrestle the luggage from the trunk. You clamber out after him into the brilliant sunlight, the heat instantly making your travel outfit—which consisted of a pair of black leggings, a sweatshirt, and Pedro's Freaky Tales green hoodie—feel suffocatingly thick. The change in temperature is a shock to your system, having just come from New York's freezing climate.

“Hey you!” Pedro's booming voice interrupts your thoughts, “Nice hoodie. Where'd you get it?”

“Um, someone left it at my place a while ago, and I decided to keep it. It's really comfy.”

Pedro smiles and nods, "It suits you. You should wear it more often."

“Thanks, but not here,” you tell him, your face flushing from the heat. ”It's burning hot."

“Welcome to Chile, where it's scorching hot during the winter and freezing cold during the summer,” he says in a joking tone, as he tucks a strand of loose hair behind your ear. “Let's get inside, it's cooler.”

The moment you stepped into the house, you were greeted by a refreshing blast of air conditioning. The house was lovely. You take in the Mediterranean decor style and the large windows that let in natural light as you look around. On either side of the foyer, stone archways lined the way up two stories to an ornate ceiling.

As you make your way to the living room, you catch a glimpse of the various family pictures that adorn the walls. The living room was spacious and inviting, with plush couches and a fireplace that made you feel right at home.

Dropping your bags next to the stairs that led to the second floor, Pedro places a hand in your back and gestures you towards a hallway, “C'mon, everyone is out back.”

At the back of the house, tangled trees press close, the forest extending as far as you can see, and off to the left, in the meadow, a gazebo adorned with wild grapes stands within a smaller thicket of trees. Bright glass-shard wind chimes and cutesy bird feeders swing in the branches, and the path cuts past a row of flowering bushes before curving onto a footbridge and then disappearing into the mountains on the far side.

It's like something out of a storybook. Charming, picturesque, and perfect.

“You're here!” A familiar voice drew your attention back to earth. “And right on time. How was your flight?”

Pedro's sister, Javiera, lit up with a smile as she hugged you tightly. You returned the embrace, grateful for her warm welcome. "It was long, but good nonetheless," you replied with a smile.

“Well, if it isn't the infamous best friend I keep hearing about?” you turned around to see Pedro's father approach you with a friendly smile on his face.

"Yup, that's me," you reply, extending your hand for a handshake.

"I'm glad to finally meet you," he says, shaking your hand. "Pedro talks about you all the time."

“I hope good things,” you chuckle, “and it's great to finally meet you too, Mr. Balmaceda.”

“Oh, please call me José,” he tells you, waving his hands. Just like his son, you notice that José has a warm and welcoming personality, making you feel at ease. “And please, make yourself feel at home; we're thrilled to have you.”

“No, he's thrilled to have a world famous superstar staying at his house,” Nicolás, Pedro's brother, retorts back at his father. Making everyone laugh and leaving you feeling a bit embarrassed.

"Oh, I don't know about being a superstar," you say lowly.

“Are you kidding?" Nicolás cuts you off as he takes a seat, "Don't be modest. It's literally an honor to have you here."

“Yeah, you're sooo cool,” Javiera's older son added.

"Okay, alright, that's enough." Javiera must have noticed your embarrassed expression. She reached out to you and held you by the shoulders, reassuring you. “Let's not overwhelm her with too much praise. Let's give her some space, she must be tired."

And she was right. The almost 12 hour flight has left you feeling exhausted, jet lagged, and in need of a very long nap.

"Vamos princesa, I'll take you to your room." Pedro turned around and led the way towards the room while you followed him closely, trying to keep your eyes open and fighting the urge to just collapse on the floor.

As you reached the second floor, your attention was drawn back to the house. “This place is so gorgeous, P.”

“We got it a couple of years ago. We wanted something a little bit bigger so we could have everyone over for vacations, and we also wanted something that felt like home, you know?”

“I love it,” you tell him.

“This is your room,” he says, jerking his chin at the door on the right, “and this is mine.”

He opens the door to the room on the left. His room, much like mine, is absolutely huge. The bed is along the wall immediately to your right as you enter, a recklessly comfortable looking king size bed doused under the weight of a fluffy duvet and an insane amount of pillows.

The bedding is bright white and contrasts sharply with the dark wooden floorboards. "Your bed looks like a big fluffy cloud," you say, giggling.

"It feels like one," he says, smiling. He can tell what you're thinking by the look in your eyes,"Go on, I know you want to."

Like a little kid, you start running towards the bed, feeling the softness of the plush carpet under your feet. As you sink into the bed, you realize that it's even more comfortable than it looks, and you can't help but let out a contented sigh.

“P, I’m never moving again,” you say, your voice drifting over to him.

"Ha. You’ll have to.”

“Hmm, why exactly?” you turn over onto your stomach and lean against your elbows to face him.

"Because it's my bed," he simply states, "and I have plenty of plans that don't include you spending the entire trip in my bed."

Bravery takes over, and you give him a playful smirk. "Well, I guess I'll just have to make sure those plans change then."

He chuckles and shakes his head, “Good luck with that, sweetheart.”

You know this is cruel. You were torturing yourself. Being so optimistic was cruel, but because of your longing and deep, hidden desires, you couldn't help but indulge in silly fantasies and play along.

“Alright, I'll go to mine,” you say with a forced smile as you get off the bed, trying to hide the disappointment in your voice. “I need to nap right now, or I'll die.”

“I will, uh, come get you for dinner later.”

“Sure, boss,” you tell him, patting him on the shoulder as you walk past him to leave the room.

“Sweet dreams.”

In the past four days, you've learned many things.

First, Chile was sickeningly beautiful. The vibrant colors of the buildings and the breathtaking scenery of the Andes Mountains made you feel like you were in a dream. It spread out beneath you like a patchwork quilt, with each square representing a different aspect of its culture and history. From the bustling city streets to the serene beaches.

The food was also a highlight, and you're pretty sure you gained a few pounds from indulging in the delicious local cuisine.

“Here, try this one.”

“That's the biggest empanada I've ever seen in my life,” you exclaimed as you took a bite of the savory pastry, filled with juicy meat and vegetables. “This is so fucking good.”

Pedro chuckles. “It's filled with a mixture called Pino.”

“Okay, forget the manjar. This,” you say, mouth full, “is my new favorite thing in this country.”

Pedro gasps. “I thought I was your favorite thing in this country.”

You grin and give him a playful nudge. "Okay, fine. You're still my favorite, but this empanada might take the top spot."

“That's better,” you look up at him, trying not to melt then and there at the signature wide grin spread across Pedro's gorgeous face. “But you know, there's still plenty of time for me to prove that I deserve the top spot.”

You chuckle at his remark, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "We'll see about that, Pascal," you reply, taking another bite of the delicious empanada and secretly hoping he succeeds in his mission.

•••

Second, Pedro's family were the warmest hosts you could have imagined, eager to share their traditions and stories with you. They accepted you as one of their own and made you feel like a member of the family.

They took you on various adventures throughout the city, showing you hidden gems that only locals knew about. The tradition of taking a trip to a hiking site outside the city whenever all of them got together was in motion and this year it was the Valley of the Moon's turn.

“That hike was so worth it, guys," Nico says, a little out of breath from climbing up the steep trail.

Damn right, it was. As you're standing atop a giant sand dune, you're bewildered by what you're witnessing. The view as the sun slips below the horizon is out of this world. The ring of volcanoes and surreal lunar landscapes of the valley are suddenly suffused with intense purples, pinks, and golds. It's the most beautiful sunset you've ever seen.

You quickly grab the camera that's hanging around your neck and start taking pictures, trying to capture the breathtaking moment before it fades away. “Guys, get together!” you shout, “A family photo with this stunning backdrop is a must.”

As you finish taking the pictures, Pedro's voice breaks the silence, “Javi, grab the camera and take one of us, please.”

You comply and hand the camera to her. Pedro sneaks a hand around your waist and pulls you close, “Smile, princesa.”

“Don't tell me what to do," you playfully retort, leaning into him and smiling for the camera.

•••

And third, Pedro has always had a thing for theatrics. Today, some of you decided to take a trip to the beach. The heat was unbearable, and the cool ocean water sounded like the perfect way to beat it.

He would often come out of the ocean dramatically, splashing water all around and pretending to be a sea monster to scare his nephews. As soon as he saw the waves, he ran towards them and jumped into the water with a loud roar. His nephews laughed and cheered him on as he swam towards them, pretending to be a giant creature ready to attack.

After spending most of the day in the water, you were sitting down on the sand, attempting to make sand castles with one of Pedro's cousins. The sound of waves crashing against the shore was soothing, making you feel relaxed. “My god, he's like a kid,” you tell her, looking at Pedro as he continued to play with his nephews, now closer to the shore.

She laughs. “He's always been like this. As a child, he was always playful and energetic, and he never lost that spirit as he grew up. It's one of the many things we love about him."

The sandcastle you were working on was slowly starting to take shape. Pedro's cousin continued to build it and tell you stories about him, letting nostalgia wash over you.

She told you about his grandfather and how he used to take them to watch double features of old movies, and how that heavily influenced Pedro's love for storytelling and cinema. You didn’t know him then, and you'll never understand why it feels like you did. “But you know, one of my absolute favorite memories is when he recited Hamlet here on the beach with Grandpa."

“Actually, it was Death of a Salesman, cousin.”

His voice startles you as you turn to see him standing behind you, a small smile on his face. "I do remember that day," he continued as he lowered himself onto the sand behind you, legs on each side of your body. He places a hand on your thigh for a brief moment as he settles behind you before removing it.

You want nothing more than to reach out and put his hand back on you, to insist he keep touching you but you don’t.

He starts helping you with the sandcastle, and your breath catches in your throat as you feel his familiar warmth spread through your body. Droplets of water from his hair fall onto your warm skin, and the small elephant tattoo on his right inner thigh catches your eye as he reaches for a shovel, "I was about 14 years old. I videotaped it but lost the fucking camera on the trip back to the States.”

“Damn, I would've loved to see that.”

He chuckles in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “Maybe I can reenact it for you.”

“Please do.”

•••

Pedro suggested you two go outside and stargaze with a glass of wine after returning from the beach. The evening summer breeze was much cooler than the daytime breeze. You were both sitting on the back porch, leaning back on the cushioned chair, the wooden floor creaking under your weight.

“Want me to open another bottle, princesa?”

“Are you trying to get me drunk, Pedrito?”

You can't help but stare as Pedro throws back his head, a bellowing laugh escaping him into the quiet night air. His eyes crinkle at the corners, and he shakes his head, still chuckling. "No, I just want to make sure you're enjoying yourself. And if that means another bottle of wine, then so be it."

He reaches for your glass, hands touching briefly, and pours you some more. Even in the dark, the blinding white of his smile and the twinkle in those achingly beautiful brown eyes are impossible to miss.

With the moon low in the sky, his silhouette was even clearer to you: the way the bridge of his nose dips into the top of the large glass, the delicate hold of his fingers on the stem, and the mess of his hair.

Cicadas screamed into the night air as the taste of the rich, velvety wine danced on your tongue. Now, slightly tipsy on the red wine, you were nearly too lost in your memory of the moment to notice that Pedro had turned his head from above to look at you. Clearly, your staring had captured his attention, but you went to stare resolutely at the night sky again.

He sobered quickly, but his eyes never left you. You felt the weight of his lingering stare and were thankful that the darkness of the night and warmth of the fire covered your suddenly flushed cheeks. “Excited for Christmas tomorrow?” you ask softly, trying to break the tension with a light-hearted question.

“Yes,” he replied with a small smile, "but I'm more excited that you get to spend it with us."

A warmth filled your chest, and if your cheeks weren't already blushing already, they certainly were now, but you wouldn’t look away from him. The meaning wasn’t lost on you. “Thank you for inviting me, really. I thought I was going to be sad, but you guys have made me feel at home."

Pedro frowns. “What do you mean? About being sad.”

“I kind of hate this season now because it reminds me how lonely I am,” you chuckle, gripping the wine glass slightly tighter. “And don't get me wrong, I love my family and my friends, but after you spend years with someone, Christmas just feels different without them around, you know? It's like...” you trail off, trying to put into words the feeling of emptiness that lingers within you. “Like there's a void that can't be filled no matter how many people are around you. And-and it's not like I miss that person in particular, I just miss having someone.”

His unblinking eyes hadn’t left yours, and you continued, feeling vulnerable but also relieved to finally get that out of your system. “I know it sounds silly, but I think it’s just a reminder that things change. you meet people and you love them, and then you lose them. It's inevitable, and it happens to everyone.”

It falls quiet between you again, the familiarity of the years of friendship meaning you are both comfortable with it. The weight of what you just said still hangs heavy in the air until he nods slowly, breaking the silence. “I get it. I feel the same way somehow,” you tear your eyes away from the constellations above to stare at him quizzically, a raised eyebrow telling him to elaborate.

He huffs out a laugh, as if he's amused by your confusion or embarrassed by his own vulnerability, and continues, “I guess that's one of the reasons why I don't date. I'm saving myself from that.”

“Yeah, I guess now I am too,” you respond, nodding in understanding.

"Also, not to sound like an arrogant asshole—"

“Which you probably will anyway,” you add in a playful tone.

“Ha, ha. Very funny,” he says mockingly. “But my schedule is busy, if I wanna be involved in something, I want to pay attention to it and nurture it. It takes energy to be with someone.”

“It's not arrogant, it's the truth. I was telling Taylor the same thing the other day,” you tell him. “I can't date because I don't have the time to, but...”

“But what?” Pedro interrupts.

“Don't rush me, dude,” you chuckle. “But I'm also human, and I have needs sometimes, and it sucks that I can't just go to a bar like a regular person and sit on the barstool, have a drink, and wait for someone to approach me so we can go to their place and have sex and forget about it the next morning,” you finally admit, staring down at your finger swirling over the rim of your glass.

“No strings attached," he adds, his voice scratchy. “I, um, ha. I wish I could do that too. You're not alone.”

“Hooking up with someone like that in our world would involve lots of NDAs,” you say, laughing.

“Oh yes, very romantic stuff.”

His eyes were doing the thing, the Pedro thing, and you did your best to ignore the way your heart lurched. The moment was charged with tension, and you both knew that there was more to say, and since neither of you dared to break the silence, someone else decided to break it for you, clearing their throat loudly and making you both jump. You turn to see Javiera standing by the door, looking amused and a little bit smug.

"I just wanted to let you guys know the rest of us are going out for dinner, in case you're interested in joining us," she said, her eyes flickering between the two of you. “Uh, no. Thanks, I'm beat. The wine has made me sleepy.”

“I'm gonna have to pass too, sis,” Pedro tells her. “You guys have fun.”

“Yeah, you too,” she says with a sly smile. “We'll be back late!”

After she leaves, you stand up and stretch your arms, feeling the effects of the wine yourself. “Woah. Too much wine,” you chuckle. “I should head to bed now before I regret it in the morning.”

“Me too,” he breathes out as he gets up, collecting his glass and yours. "Goodnight, princesa," he adds with a smile before you head towards the door. “Goodnight, P.”

•••

As soon as you entered your room, you immediately hopped in the shower, hoping to wash away the exhaustion from the day and also the dirty thoughts that had been lurking in your mind.

The warm water cascading down your body helped ease the tension in your muscles, and you let out a contented sigh. After a few minutes, you stepped out and changed into fresh clothes.

As you lie in bed, the conversation you had an hour before with Pedro seems to replay in your mind.

I wish I could do that too. You're not alone.

You promised yourself you wouldn't cross that line again. The last time you took that black, bold line and made it gray, it came with consequences. But you're not known for making the best decisions when it comes to these matters anyway.

You start to feel anxious and restless, unable to quiet your thoughts or fall asleep.

Perhaps a glass of water will help.

As you walk out of the bedroom, everything is dark, meaning everyone is still out for dinner. You have only the soft glow of the city outside the large windows to guide your way.

Hesitating as you walk through the hallway towards the stairs, you slow your steps, not entirely trusting your eyes to keep you from running into anything in the dark, unfamiliar space in such low light. Before you reach the stairs, you notice the light underneath Pedro's room, casting a faint glow onto the hallway carpet.

He's still up, you thought.

Before you even realized what you were doing, you were heading toward his room.

“Pedro?” you call out his name as you gently knock on the door, “You up?”

“Bathroom! Come in!” he screams. You reach the doorknob and push it open. The sound of water running fills your ears as you step inside. You plop down sideways on his bed, legs dangling off the edge, and wait for him to finish his shower. The chilly night air seeps in through the slightly open door of his balcony, making you shiver.

“Can't sleep?” His voice is soft and soothing as he walks out of the bathroom, toweling his hair dry and wearing only black boxers. You avert your gaze, trying to ignore the way just looking at his face, with his golden skin from all the sun exposure, the shadow of dark scruff on his cheeks, and his brown eyes crinkled by a soft smile, makes your heart race.

“Nope,” you mumble. “Too much on my mind, I guess.”

“Enlighten me, please,” he quickly replies, returning to the bathroom. You get off the bed, take a deep breath, and try to compose yourself, but the sight of him in those boxers makes it difficult. You know that if you start talking about what's really on your mind, things might get even more complicated between the two of you.

“Uh...” you huffed out a laugh as the scenario played in your head, your legs almost giving out as you felt your guts twisting. Your mouth fell slightly agape as he stepped back into the room, “What's so funny?” he inquired. You fidget with your fingers and look at him, still chuckling a bit, “That conversation we had earlier. I can't stop thinking about it,"

Pedro leaned against the bathroom door, his face puzzled, reflecting that he had no idea which of the many conversations you two had today you were referring to. “The one about hooking up, I mean. And how you wish you could do that too," you continue, not bothering to try and hide the small beginnings of a smile from Pedro's watchful gaze, entirely more interested in testing the waters than anything else.

“Oh?” is all Pedro gives by way of a reply, not that you mind much since that works just as well as a real answer theoretically could. “Oh," you confirm. This could go either way, but as of right now, you're willing to take the risk.

His gaze is fixed on you, and you go back to lying on the bed, closing your eyes as if you're bracing for the impact of the unknown. “I was wondering if—and I might be making a complete fool of myself by saying this—but what if...” you trail off. "What if we..?” you can't bring yourself to finish the sentence, suddenly realizing that once you say it, you can't take it back.

“Fucked?” he interrupts, and your eyes shoot open, surprised by his bluntness. You sit up on the bed, heart racing as you try to gather the courage to speak. “I mean, we-we know each other, and we're both horny, and we wouldn't have to sign any NDAs,” you joke, trying to lift the weight off the air.

"That's true," Pedro quips quickly, though any hint of eagerness in his reply is tempered by the softness of his voice. You feel the blush that rises in your cheeks at the implication in his words and you look away, seemingly breaking the trance you’ve been in. “Okay.”

“Okay?” you repeat, dumbfounded.

“Would you rather have me say no?” he chuckles, crossing his arms as he leans one shoulder into the doorframe and deciding that for now he’ll stay where he is, knowing he looks like a smug jerk but unable to help himself.

“No!” you tell him, rather eagerly. “I mean, of course you can say no. We don't have to do this if you're not into it,” you add softly.

He says your name and looks into your eyes, "My answer's yes.”

“Okay, but I have some rules,” you get off the bed, body tensed with anticipation. “Of course you do,” Pedro says, arching his eyebrow and giving you a knowing smile.

“No feelings. This can only happen while we're here. Once we go back to our normal lives, this never happened,” you tell him. He nods, taking a slow step forward and then another, and although there’s still a great deal of space between the two of you, you can feel the tension building. "Also, we can't tell anybody about this, not even our closest friends,” you continue.

He's closer now, feeling his breath on your face, and his hands find their way to your waist. "It's our little secret," he whispers, and you grab his shoulders to steady yourself.

“And no nicknames. No princesa, no baby, no love,” you try to sound stern but your voice betrays the excitement you feel.

He grins mischievously, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “But there's no fun in that.”

“Fine. You can call me whatever you want,” you give in, finding his amusement endearing.

“Well, that was easy,” he chuckles, his grin widening. “Are you done with your rules?”

“Yes, I guess so,” you stammered, feeling a bit embarrassed for being so easily swayed by his charm.

“Good,” he says, and you feel a shiver run down your spine as he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “So I can start doing this,” he whispers, his hand sliding down your pajama shorts, sending a wave of goosebumps across your skin. "And this," he adds, as his lips press against your neck.

When you finally make yourself let go and stop fighting for some false sense of restraint for even one second longer, you notice that something changes in the way Pedro touches you, as if he's more confident and sure of himself.

His free hand moves up to hold the back of your head to hold you in place. You do the same, your hands finding their way to his broad shoulders for support. The tip of his finger under your shorts traces over where you’re slick and too ready for him. His mouth is tantalizingly close to yours, brown eyes staring into yours, pining and desperately waiting. “Can I?” he asks.

It's humorous and sweet even that he's asking permission to kiss you when one of his hands is already under your pants. Every rational thought disappears, and you crush your mouth against his.

Everything is slow and heavy, and he never lets his finger slide into you even when you silently beg for it. Just dragging it over and back—too little and too much all at the same time.

He presses the pad of his finger into your clit, and you have to break away from his mouth to groan, overwhelmed, knees wobbly. Pedro laughs quietly and nuzzles against your neck so his beard scruffs.

“Mi princesa,” he whispers against your neck, kissing it softly, “you make such pretty sounds."

There is a real chance you could spontaneously combust into flames just from the sound of his voice and his sweet nothings. He continues to draw circles on your clit making you moan and writhe in pleasure, feeling like you're about to explode with ecstasy. As he whispers more sweet words in your ear, you can't help but surrender to the intense sensations he's giving you.

“Is that good?” he asks, his voice rough, “Does that feel good?”

“Yes," you whisper, a hand traveling to his hair, tugging it tightly. “Yes.”

Just when you're about to come undone, he suddenly stops. Your eyes quickly find his for some explanations as to why he decided to put on hold the very satisfying and impending orgasm that was building up within you. “Oops,” he simply states, a grin plastered on his face.

“I fucking hate you,” you whine, pulling away from him. “I was so close! What you do that for?”

"I have some rules, too."

“Now?” you ask him, clearly frustrated with his antics. “Well, go on.”

“Actually, it's just one,” Pedro says, arching his eyebrows and giving you a knowing smile. His reaction is met by narrowed eyes, like you’re making sure to watch him closely until you figure out where exactly he’s going with this. "You do as I say. Which also means you come when I say."

“Sounds—” you're regaining your footing, regaining control over yourself, trying to reinstate some power, but the way he just said those words has taken away any sense of authority you thought you had. His voice is commanding, with no room for compromise or disobedience. “Sounds dangerous, but... alright.”

“Good girl, now get on the bed,” he says, and the timbre of his voice nearly kills you then and there, the dropping pitch making the words come out rough and serious. Pedro still sounds like himself, since his normal voice is more than enough to make you a little weak at the knees on a regular day, this new variant is a completely different monster.

You lay there, waiting for his next instruction, as the shadows danced on the walls and the sound of his footsteps echoed in the silence. Once he reaches the bed and fists his hands in the sheets on either side of your thighs, bending down until he’s face to face with you, your eyes level with his. You let your hands roam over his broad shoulders and down his torso, feeling his tense muscles relax under your touch.

“I need you now, P,” you mumble, and you move your hand lower to hold him through his boxers. He twitches into you.

“What did I say?” his dark eyes are fixed on you as he reaches for your hand and pins it above your head. "I don't think you fully understand the consequences of disobeying me. We'll do this my way," he whispers menacingly.

This dark side of Pedro is one you've never seen before. The Pedro you know is a sunshine. However, the man on top of you right now is a completely different person, and you're more than the ready to get to know him.

“Keep your hands above your head. No touching."

Your body is aching for him, all willing and open, but he’s sliding down you, pushing your shorts down as he goes. His soft hands trace your thighs and stops at your knees, “Open up for me.”

"So pretty," he says, voice thick. You look down to see his face, pupils blown wide. “Can't wait to taste you, baby.”

You're a wreck. A writhing, moaning, shaking wreck. Shit. You don't even need to be looking at his face to know how arrogant he is right now, not that you could—it's buried deep inside between your thighs. You're desperate to grab his hair just to see where misbehaving will take you, but you settle for the headboard.

He kisses your cunt, messy and hot. A groan rumbles in his throat and he moves his tongue in circles, exploring every inch of your wetness. You arch your back, lost in pleasure, as he continues to devour you with his mouth. When you look down again, his brown eyes are staring back at you as his fingers slide into you, finding the right spot in milliseconds. It's fucking game over.

His pace increases as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, perfectly coordinated with his tongue and his goddamn nose. “Pedro...” you whimper, out of breath. “P-Please let me cum."

“Not yet, baby," he chuckles, fingers continue to expertly tease and stroke your sensitive areas, bringing you closer and closer to the edge of orgasm. "I know you can hold it for a little longer,” you cry out, gripping the bedsheets as you desperately try to move your hips to ride his fingers. Your eyes are watering slightly from how good he’s making you feel.

“You can cum now.”

Every part of your body spasms, and you scream, everything buzzing and vibrating as you tighten around him, bucking and thrashing, pleasure and electricity flooding your body. Removing his fingers, he starts kissing the inside of your thighs, all the way up to your belly and lips. As you try to catch your breath, he whispers in your ear, "That was just the beginning. I want to make you cum again and again."

You can tell Pedro loves the way your face heats up at his words. “Please do,” you tell him, grabbing the waistband of his boxers, and your wandering hands are met by bare, warm skin and the short, neatly cropped hair that grows thicker the further down your fingers dare to venture.

“I know you said you're in charge, but I really need you to take this off,” you say, losing your ability to wait for orders. To your surprise, he complies and gets off the bed, slides down his boxers, just as you get rid of your t-shirt. You can't help but admire the sight of him fully exposed and ready for you, moving to the drawer to pull out a condom, tearing the packet and rolling it onto himself.

“You can take a picture, it'll last longer."

“Don't get cocky.”

Pedro settles between you once again, and you grab his face. His eyes glistened, his hot breath on your skin as he leans in closer. Your thumb brushes against the tiny white scar on his nose. “You've marked me forever,” he chuckles, as he cradles your head and kisses you, his nose brushing against yours.

You grab his length and give him a slow, steady stroke from base to tip, then back down. His mouth leaves yours as his dick twitches in your firm grasp, causing him to groan involuntarily. The pace of your hand up and down his length never picking up or slowing down, instead maintaining the same teasingly slow pace.

“Are you sure?” he whispers softly.

“Yes.”

Pedro guides himself over you, the head of his cock slipping over where you’re open, up to rub on your clit so your fingers dig into his shoulders. His nose nudges gently against yours, “I'll be gentle, princesa.”

“I don't want you gentle. I want you rough.”

“Is that so?”

You moan, eyes closing. You can't even remember how to breathe, let alone speak. Pedro pushes only his head into you, opening you before pulling out, leaving you contracting around nothing. “I'm going to fuck you roughly, and you'll take it like a good girl, won't you?”

“Yes, P,” you rasp, hands sliding across his back. He's playing with you and knows how to make it almost unbearably good. He pushes deeper into you this time, and you can feel your body resist, protesting that he's too big, too much, and he pulls out. He drags his cock over where you're slick and messy before thrusting forward as far as he can. Your nails sink into his broad shoulders, back arching and pushing your stomach into his. "Oh my God.”

“You feel so fucking good, baby. Like you're made for me."

Your legs wrap around his hips, ankles crossing at the bottom of his back, to keep him there, deep inside you. His head drops to your shoulders, pressing his lips to your collarbone. You're close, again.

“Please...” you beg, moaning like you've lost all sanity, his mouth pulls away slightly, his breath hot against your skin. "Please what?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

“More, please, I need more."

The way Pedro's fucking you right now borders on dangerous, making you question lots of things—things you'd rather not think about right now, as he reaches for your hand and places it on your lower stomach. “Feel that?”

You're not sure who moans louder: you when you realize why he's put your hand here, or Pedro when your walls clench involuntarily around his cock at the sensation. Your entire body tightens as you cry out, coming undone once again.

He presses his lips against your forehead and rolls you over, his cock still buried inside you.

“Pedro…that was…” you pant, body on top of his. “Did you come?”

He smirks. “Not yet, because you're gonna ride me now.”

Despite the fact that your body is weak and spent, the simple thought of being on top of him is enough fuel to make you feel a surge of energy. You straddle his hips, feeling his hardness against you, and sinking down on his dick.

“Like this?” you ask as you begin to move your body in sync with his, Your hips swirl and grind down, and Pedro's face is filled with pleasure. “Yes, mi amor. Just like that.”

Every rock of your hips and the way Pedro's pushing into you are the perfect rhythm. His hands grip your hips so tight, you're pretty sure it'll leave bruises for days. You lean down, his mouth close by your ear, as he fucks into you, hearing him whisper things only you get to hear. “you feel so good, baby, taking my cock so fucking well.”

Everything is so overwhelming—your body responding to his every thrust and word. It's a moment of pure ecstasy, and you never want it to end. Collapsing onto his chest, your fingers reach up to grip his hair. The satisfying sound of slapping skin echoes through the room, and you're suddenly glad there's no one in the house.

Pedro slaps your ass as you're still rocking back against his thrust. “You're gonna cum for me again, baby?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” you moaned as your body trembled with pleasure, mouth crashing into his, squeezing him so tight he can't hold back, and you feel him spill into the condom. He curses out your name as he's twitching and spasming inside you.

The post-sex haze settles over you both as you lay there, catching your breath and basking in the afterglow. After a couple of minutes, Pedro finally slips out of you and heads to the bathroom. You manage to get up, body aching. As you gather your clothes from the floor and dress up, he emerges from the bathroom, his face puzzled.

“What are you doing?”

You chuckle, “Leaving.”

Of course you didn't want to leave, but since you agreed this was just sex and nothing more, staying sounds like a dangerous situation.

There's no need to make this situation more complicated than it already is, even if you gaslight yourself into thinking this is fine as long as you're both on the same page.

“No,” he interjects. “Stay.”

“Pedro, we said—"

“I know what we said, but stay. Just for tonight.”

You give him a warning look, and he gives you the same look back. “It'll make me feel dirty if you leave." you burst out laughing, and his face turns red. How's this the same man that just minutes ago was whispering the filthiest things into your ear?

“Okay, I'll stay.”

The next morning, you woke up to an empty bed and no signs of Pedro. If you weren't lying on his bed, legs hurting like you ran a marathon, and your body wrapped in his warm blankets, you would have thought it was all a dream. Because in your dreams is the only place you are together, it's where you come home to him and he comes home to you.

You could still feel his hands moving over your skin, his breath on your neck, and the way he whispered in your ear, making you feel like the most loved person in the world.

Except it wasn't lovemaking; it was just sex.

The warmth of the hot chilean sun spilled through the bedroom window, casting a golden glow on the walls and illuminating the dust particles that danced in the air. The distant sound of soft music and laughter from downstairs made you smile as you sat up against the headboard.

The sound of the door opening interrupted your thoughts, and you looked up to see Pedro wearing the coziest looking sweater, his dark hair all over the place, and presumably a cup of coffee in his hand. “Good morning, solecito,” he says sitting down next to you. "I made you a cup of coffee, just the way you like it."

You take the cup from his hand, fingers touching. “It can't possibly still be morning,” you rasp, voice still hoarse.

“No, it's not," he tells you. “It's 2:30pm.”

The fear in your face is palpable. “Fuck, did I miss the gift exchange?” you blurt out.

Pedro's pursed lips and guilty expression made it clear that you, in fact, missed the happiest time of the day. “No...” you dragged out, “Why didn't you wake me up?!” you demanded, hitting him on the shoulder.

“I didn't want to disturb your sleep, you looked so peaceful," he replied with a sheepish grin. "But if it makes you feel better, everyone loved what you got them."

You groan in response. “I hate you so much.”

“Are you always this mean when you wake up?"

You shrug, bringing the cup to your lips. “Eh, only when I have to deal with people who make me miss the fun part of Christmas."

“Let's talk about how my dad got the better gift, by the way,” he tells you, moving his hands energetically. “And how I'm definitely not jealous at all.”

“I had to impress him, and you can never go wrong with a Rolex,” you remark with a grin. “Plus, you deserve it after doing the most evil thing you could do to me.”

“You mean caring for your wellbeing and letting you rest after the very... eventful night you had?” he says teasingly. “Shut up,” you reply, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at him. In true Pedro fashion, he dramatically dodges the pillow and grins slyly, "You can't silence me that easily."

“I have other ways,” you quickly reply.

Oh, how you love to play with fire.

Pedro raises an eyebrow and chuckles, “Is that so?”

You hum. The tension is palpable in the air as you look into his eyes, trying to read his face. You wonder if he can hear the rapid beating of your heart.

“Wanna see what I got you?” he asked, breaking the silence that had settled, his eyes still on you.

“Dying to,” you say, pretending not to notice how he changed the subject, setting the coffee mug on the nightstand, “but first I need to shower before I go downstairs.”

“No need,” he reaches for his front pocket, pulling out a small wrapped package. You eagerly take it from him, eyes lighting up with excitement.

“Espero que te guste.”

Tearing the paper off and opening the black box, you find a beautiful necklace with a delicate gold chain and a small emerald pendant. “Now I feel like an asshole,” you say, immediately regretting getting him a bunch of funny socks. Your eyes are still fixed on the necklace.

Pedro laughs, your favorite sound in the world, “Hey, I love my socks. You didn't have to get me so many though,”

“I didn't know which ones you'd like better, so I got you a bunch of ‘em,” you say, a hint of embarrassment in your voice. “This is so beautiful,"

“It's your favorite gemstone," he says softly, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Your eyes meet his, and for a split second, everything is okay.

You rush forward to embrace him, catching him off guard by the way he chuckles and says oh. He wraps his arms tightly around you, and you nuzzle into his neck, feeling the soft fabric of his sweater and the familiar scent of his cologne. “Thanks so much, P,” you say, voice drowning on his skin.

“Merry Christmas, mi amor."

No strings attached, spontaneous, fun, and only while you're here. That's what you and Pedro agreed upon when you decided to have sex five nights ago. But the way he has you pinned against the shower wall and making your legs tremble with pleasure right now has you thinking of a way to make him not want to do this with anyone else.

The slick, wet sounds of Pedro's fingers pumping in and out of you filled the bathroom as you moaned in bliss. “Can you be a good girl for me and be quiet?” his nose brushes against yours, “We don't want them to hear us, do we?”

You shake your head, blown away, feeling suffocated, as he drags two fingers over your swollen clit. Your jaw sags as the pleasure floods your body as he applies more pressure to it, causing you to grumble in pleasure. As two fingers slide into you, deliciously stretching you, he covers your mouth with his, absorbing your satisfied moan.

He pulled his mouth away from yours, and the water slipped through his hair, dampening it and sticking it back on his forehead. "Open your mouth," he says, a glint in his eyes as you look at him, bewildered. He presses two fingers against your tongue and the sweet-salty taste fills your mouth as you suck on his fingers. “See how fucking good you taste.”

You hum, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I need to feel you inside me."

Pedro lets his hand wander around your hips and slowly drags it down, lifting your leg and securing it around his hip. He took the space between your thighs, aligned himself with your entrance, and pushed in, giving you a split second to adjust before pulling out and thrusting back in.

He was moving faster, and you felt like a ragdoll in his arms, so euphoric from your high that he could do whatever the fuck he wanted to you and you'd gladly accept it.

“F-faster, please,”

You've had sex in a variety of positions over the last few days, but there was something about this position and the access it provided that you found incredibly satisfying. His wet, solid chest pressed against yours, his hand tight against your thigh as he buried himself deep within you.

Pedro let out a low groan, one you were all too familiar with by this point, indicating that he was about to finish. His hips trembled and he let out a final grunt, his breaths ragged and heavy as he came inside of you, mouths meeting in a kiss.

The two of you stood there, still in that proximity for a moment, full of love and softness because above all else, he was your best friend.

“Can I wash your hair?”

“Only if you let me wash yours after,” he replies, reaching for the shampoo bottle.

“Deal.”

Since they had a low-key Christmas consisting mainly of hot chocolate, fuzzy sweaters and movies, the family decided to plan a big New Year's Eve celebration to make up for it. Which prompted you to take a quick trip to the city yesterday in search of a dress because you hadn't packed anything fancy.

Pedro insisted that you didn't have to stress over that, to which you obviously objected.

“Sorry, but I'm not taking fashion advice from someone who has like three t-shirts and a pair of jeans,” you said, scrolling through your phone in search of stores. “You wound me, baby,” he replied, putting a hand on his chest in mock pain. “But if you insist on shopping, let me take you.”

“No, you still have to help Javi with the party,” you said, getting up from the the couch. “I'll drive there, and I'll take Pedro and Bruno with me.”

Pedro looked at you slowly, processing your statement, looking uncertain.

“Google Maps is a thing, and we'll be fine. Now give me your keys.”

“I like it when you're bossy,” he said, his voice lowering with a hint of a smile. “They're on the counter."

And thanks to the heavens, you decided to make an effort and find something suitable for the occasion because they went all out.

The bass pounded through the walls as the guests danced and laughed, enjoying the party. The colorful decorations and delicious food made it a night to remember.

“Oh my god, they're gone,” Javiera groans, referring to the tray of now empty lemon bars that were apparently the highlight of the dessert table. “I wanted another one!”

“I made another batch, I hid them in the oven,” you quickly tell her, feeling a little proud of yourself over the fact that people were enjoying what you made. “I'll go get them.”

“I will come with you.”

Once you both reach the empty kitchen, you go straight to the oven, pulling out the tray of lemon bars and setting it on the kitchen island.

“Thank you for taking Pedro and Bruno out yesterday, by the way."

"I had so fun much with them. They're great boys and even better fashion advisers,” you tell her, gesturing to your burgundy dress.

“Glad to know I've taught them well,” she says laughing.

As you cut the bars into perfect squares, Javiera grabs one and takes a bite, savoring the tangy sweetness. "These are amazing, you should consider selling them," she exclaims, closing her eyes in content.

You smile. “In another lifetime, I own a bakery in a small town with a living unit attached to the top. I have a beautiful green kitchen, and I don't feel the need to prove myself to people."

Javiera gives you a warm smile as you grab the powdered sugar. “You know,” she says reluctantly. “I see things and I feel things,” you stop what you're doing to look up at her, confused. “My brother's just scared.”

Confusion is quickly replaced with clarity as you realize where she's going with this. You open your mouth to say something, but she shuts you down. “He's created this wall to protect himself, he's been through a lot, and he has convinced himself that this is enough, that he doesn't need more, but I know better.”

A sigh leaves your lips, all of those feelings bubble up until you can't get a good breath, until you’re drowning. She continues, “I have seen you two together, friends don't look at each other like that."

You know that she's right, but things aren't so simple. Not when it comes to this.

“Maybe in another lifetime," is all you tell her, grabbing the lemon bars and heading out of the kitchen.

•••

The backyard is a wonderland of string lights and bunting, the air is filled with the sound of laughter and music as people dance under the stars. You were lost in conversation with Pedro's father. He shared more stories of his youth, what got him to pursue medicine, and how he met Pedro's late mother, leaving you feeling nostalgic for a time you never knew.

He catches you looking away, follows your gaze straight to Pedro, and smiles knowingly. “I hope you have a good flight tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” you say, blushing a little at your own transparency. “Thank you for everything, really.”

“We hope you come back soon, It was a pleasure to have you,” he tells you, placing a hand on your shoulder, reassuring you. He walks off, pausing for a moment to talk to Pedro. Smiles were exchanged, and then he continued his way.

Pedro looks exceptionally good tonight. Hair perfectly styled, white shirt perfectly stretching over his back. You drink up his movements as he approaches you, a smile plastered on his face.

“Who did your hair?” you ask him, knowing damn well this was someone else's doing because he didn't know how to do it. “My sister,” he replied, chuckling.

“She's doing the Lord's work,” you tell him, folding your arms, feeling exposed by the way he's staring. It's comical that you feel this way, as if he hasn't seen you naked for the past week.

“I'm gonna have to hire someone to do my hair at all times if you like it this much.”

“I like it either way,” you admitted, "but I just think it looks extra good when it's styled like this."

His mouth splits into quite possibly your favorite of his various smiles, the one that makes it look like there's a secret tucked up in one corner of his mouth. “Dance with me?”

“Always.”

You take his hand and pull him to the deck, beneath the twinkling lights and away from the crowd, while the Bee Gees' “How Deep Is Your Love” plays like the universe just wants to mock you. Pedro folds your hand up in his warm palm, and you rest your cheek against his shoulder, closing your eyes to focus on how this feels.

It feels right, it feels perfect, and it feels like it's gonna end.

He nestles his mouth into your hair and breathes you in as you sway. His sister's words ring in your ear once again: My brother's just afraid.

You allow yourself to imagine this feeling lasting. A world within a world just for you and Pedro, where people just let you both be. Where you belong to each other. And then you invite reality forward to change the story.

You're working all day, taking endless flights to different locations, because you're trapped in a cycle of wanting to do more and never feeling like it's enough. Pedro exhausted from long days of shooting, press, taking endless flights, and getting pulled down by gravity.

Unaswered texts. Missed calls. Grief. Hurt. Distance. Missing each other. Fighting. Falling apart.

And you realize you're afraid too and this can never be.

“Pedro.”

There's a lengthy silence. His voice is a raspy, growly mutter. “I know. But don't say it.”

You don't look at each other. You just need to hold on to each other because if you look, you'll see that this make-believe game is over. You both feel the warmth of each other's embrace and the unspoken words between you. The silence is comforting yet suffocating.

His arms squeezed around you as everyone started to countdown. Cheers filled the air. Fireworks broke out over the sky in a thousand different colors. He tells you happy new year, and you say it back, never letting go.

Even though you never said it to each other, you both knew. The love was there, and it didn't change anything.

Maybe in the future, maybe in another lifetime.

Reblog or like if you enjoyed it, thank you for reading :) (i know this ending feels like this is it for them HOWEVER i will be making several other parts because i can't stop writing about this lol)

#love is complicated fic #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal angst #pedro pascal fic #my writing

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