Summary: You come from a long line of monster hunters. Needless to say, Lady Ashmore has her eye on you.
Warnings: SMUT, blood, choking, biting, smacking, scratching, degradation, death threats, cheating -- I think that's it?
Word Count: 4.5k
A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity — That’s the term your father had used to convince you to come to this ball. The hosts — Lady Ashmore, her daughters, and her step-daughter — have kept their bridge raised and their castle closed to guests ever since Ella’s father died… until now, that is.
You’ve come up with a million reasons not to attend. You’ve got a tavern to tend to, errands to run, training to get to. Amongst your usual work, you’ve been training for combat with your father for the past year or so. Monster hunting, specifically. Long ago, when darkness was eternal and monsters ruled over the lands, your family was at the forefront of the war to reclaim your lands, and your history is something you feel strongly about upholding.
Another thing you feel strongly about is Lady Ashmore herself, though you haven’t worked out yet whether you feel positively or negatively toward her. She’s a regular, actually, at the small tavern you work at, always ordering the strongest drinks you’ve got but never seeming affected by it no matter how many chalices she’s downed. She comes alone and stays roughly an hour each time, sitting in a shadowy corner across from the bar, and for the entirety of her time there, you swear you can feel her eyes on you when you’re not looking.
She makes you feel strange. Uneasy. Guarded. Anxious.
Horny.
It’s a confusing mixture of emotions, especially considering you’ve got a husband. A useless dick of a husband, but a husband nonetheless. It still doesn’t stop you from thinking of her late at night, picturing her intense eyes staring down at you, her dark lips soft on your skin, her low, silky voice hot against your ear, her nails sharp against your back, your inner thighs, your —
Anyway.
Your father feels equally as strongly about her and her daughters, and there’s no confusion there — He distrusts them. He’s incredibly vocal about it whenever you see him, questioning you about your interactions with her, prodding you for your own insights and opinions. You tend to be vague with him, hoping it will avoid an argument about whether you should be interacting with her at all. The truth is… you agree with your father, on some level.
When you were personally invited to the ball two weeks ago by Lady Ashmore herself, you wanted to decline. Something about the woman intrigues you, certainly, but that very same something also makes you feel like you’re in danger. Like you’re her prey. In truth, you distrust Lady Ashmore just as much as your father does. You’d given her a noncommittal answer at the time that she’d seemed displeased by, but she’d accepted it nonetheless, her hand grasping yours for the briefest moment as she’d leaned in and said, “I do hope you decide to come, dear. I bet you’d look positively delicious dressed up for me.”
In the end, you did decide to come. When you’d informed your father during one of your training sessions, you’d expected him to reinforce your knee-jerk reaction to skip it. Instead, he’d jumped on the idea with an enthusiasm you’d rarely seen in him before.
“This is our chance,” he’d said. “If they’re letting people in, this is our chance to find out what they’re hiding.”
You’d been quick to argue. “What happened to wanting me to stay away from them?”
“That was before,” he’d responded, walking up to you to squeeze your shoulder. “But you’re ready now. You’ve learned everything you can from me, and you’ve passed every one of my tests. You can do this.”
You’d hesitated, shaking your head. “Come with me, at least.”
He’d shaken his head right back at you. “You know I can’t do that, sweetheart. She hates me just as much as I hate her. If I’m there, she’ll have her guard up the whole time.”
So, armed with a dagger your father had gifted to you the night before, you approach the entrance to the castle. Swallowing, you glance over at your husband. “Remind me why you insisted on accompanying me to this when we’re barely making ends meet as it is. You should be working.”
Your husband’s wandering eyes never seem to land on you lately, especially tonight. As you watch him ogle a woman on the other side of the vast, beautiful room you’ve just entered, you realize with a frown exactly why he, too, had insisted you accept Lady Ashmore’s invitation. “This could be good for us, that’s why. Do you know how many rich people show up to these things? Trust me — By the end of tonight, we’ll be just as rich as them.” You watch as he grins in what he thinks is a charming manner at a woman in a beautiful blue gown.
Furrowing your brows, you elbow him in the side just enough to hurt him without drawing attention to yourselves. It works; his eyes are finally on you as you speak. “You are not stealing anything. Do you want to get us executed?”
“You wound me! As if I would get caught,” he scoffs.
“James,” you stop walking abruptly, tightening your hold on his arm to force him to stop as well. “I mean it. I don’t want to risk any trouble here.”
“Why? ‘Cause you’re afraid to upset your girlfriend?”
You glance around anxiously, but there’s no sign of the woman in question. “Stop it, she’s not — That’s ridiculous.”
“You’re the only person she personally invited.”
“She’s at the tavern a lot; it was just convenient, that’s all.”
“She’s at the tavern so much for you, Y/N.”
You hate that you can feel your face warming at the idea that James may actually be right. Still, you shake your head. “I knew we shouldn’t have come here.” Now it’s you who can’t look at him.
You hear him sigh, his hand slipping down into yours and squeezing lightly. “Hey, look, I’m sorry. Let’s just have some fun, yeah? I won’t steal anything. Promise.”
You purse your lips, about to just call the whole thing off, when Lady Ashmore enters your line of sight from behind you, her hand brushing against your back before coming to rest on your shoulder.
“Y/N! I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me,” she greets, audibly pleased.
For a second, you’re stunned into silence. She looks gorgeous. She always radiates a sort of elegant yet oddly dark beauty you’ve found yourself captivated by more than once, but tonight she’s truly outdone herself. You find yourself slipping your hand out of your husband’s grasp without thinking, and the motion doesn’t go unnoticed by her. In fact, you swear you see the corners of her lips twitch upward before her eyes meet yours again.
“Of course,” you respond with a smile. “I’m glad I came. You have a beautiful home, my lady.”
Her lips spread into a full-blown smile now. “It’s made more beautiful by your presence, my dear.”
You swallow under her intense gaze, your face warming again. You part your lips to speak, but James beats you to it.
“And I’m glad to be here, too,” he chimes in with a pleasant smile.
“Yes, yes,” she says, waving him off dismissively. “Why don’t you be a gentleman and get us some drinks, hm?”
James glances at you, and when you nod, he shrugs. “Uh, yeah, sure.” Stepping away, he turns and heads off in search of drinks.
Lady Ashmore watches your husband disappear into the crowd before turning back to you. “It makes me so happy that you like my home, Y/N. We haven’t had visitors in so long; I’d feared we wouldn’t make a good impression.”
“Oh, you always make a good impression, don’t worry,” you reassure her immediately. Her face lights up with a smile. You try to ignore the fluttering feeling in your stomach at the sight.
“You sweet thing,” she coos, stepping closer, almost into your personal bubble. As the band transitions smoothly from one song to another, Lady Ashmore leans into you, dark eyes flicking down to your lips so briefly you’re convinced you imagined it. “How would you like a private tour?”
It certainly sounds like a question, but as she arches her perfect brow at you, you recognize it for what it is — a command. “But my husband— “
“Seems otherwise occupied for the moment,” she interrupts, her expression of faint disgust pointed just past your shoulder.
You follow her gaze and find James talking to an unaccompanied woman in a lovely golden dress. With a sigh, you turn back to Lady Ashmore, trying to ignore your gut telling you to leave this place with or without your husband. You have no reason other than this feeling to feel unsafe in Lady Ashmore’s presence, and besides that, there’s a much stronger feeling inside you that wants to follow this woman wherever she goes.
So, for once, you don’t resist it.
“Of course, my lady,” you answer with a smile that she returns immediately.
“Wonderful.”
__________________________________________
“This is our last stop,” Lady Ashmore announces as you follow her into what you immediately recognize as a bedroom. She stays at the door, shutting it closed as you cross the threshold.
At the sound of a faint click, you turn to face the older woman. You watch her hand retreat from the door. Did she lock it? That familiar sense of unease bubbles up inside you as you meet her eyes. “Is this your bedroom?”
“It is.” She passes you on her way to point up at the wall above the bed; you use the few seconds her eyes are on something other than you as an opportunity to feel for your hidden dagger. Still there. You knew it was, but the reassurance helps settle your anxiety a bit.
“This mural,” she begins, gesturing to a vast painting above the bed, “was the first thing the Ashmores commissioned after this castle was built.”
You tentatively step closer to get a better look. The mural depicts a bearded man in a full suit of armor, his sword drawn and covered in blood. Beside him, the hefty body of a troll lies limp on the ground, its head removed from its body. The man is raising a flag depicting what you recognize to be the Ashmore family crest. The painting looks odd, though. You can see what look like scratch marks in the stone, some deep enough to perhaps be from claws rather than just nails, but they’ve been filled in. The painting itself looks like it has been recently restored.
Lady Ashmore begins to speak again. “The House of Ashmore fought alongside others in the fight to restore the sun.” Her tone is serious and firm, tinged with a hint of disapproval. Your gaze leaves the mural to lock onto her instead as she frowns up at the wall. As your gaze settles, she turns to lock eyes with you. “Your family led them. I wonder how much your father has told you of that.”
You don’t like the turn this conversation has taken. “A bit. Not much.” You’re lying. Can she tell? From the way her eyes narrow, you feel as though she can, so you add, “It was so long ago, though. I’ve got too much to worry about as it is without adding ancient history to the list.”
She huffs a soft laugh, taking slow steps toward you until she’s directly in front of you. “Y/N… My dear, sweet Y/N…” She takes another step, forcing you to step back to maintain any distance, then another, and another, and another, until your lower back hits the edge of a vanity. “Do you think I don’t know what you and your father get up to under the cloak of night?” Her voice is low and calm but with an undeniable edge to it, and her face is close enough to your own that your nose nearly brushes against hers. “The Briarwoods have been a thorn in my people’s sides for too long for me not to keep tabs on the ones living right under my nose.”
Struggling to keep your breathing even, your mind races to come up with a plan. Your cover’s blown, Lady Ashmore is a fucking troll, your only exit is blocked by her body, and somehow despite all this her proximity still makes you want to close the space between you. She’s a fucking troll; why does that make you want her more?!
You can do this. You’re ready. You can do this.
“A thorn in your side, huh? An apt name,” you wait a second to let the confusion sink in before swiftly reaching within a slit in your outfit to pull your dagger free.
“What— ” She cuts herself off as her eyes snap to the movement of your hand. Lightning fast, her own hand shoots out to wrap around your wrist before the blade can find its home in her ribcage. Her grip is strong, stronger than you’d expected, and though you struggle to follow through on your attack, she lets out something between a grunt and a growl as she roughly shoves your wrist against the mirror behind you. The glass cracks and your grip on the dagger releases, the blade clattering to the floor beside the vanity. Her other hand grabs you by the jaw, effectively pinning you.
Chest heaving slightly from adrenaline, Lady Ashmore’s intense stare never leaves your eyes. “Clever whore,” she breathes, lips quirking upward into a smirk. “Not clever enough, I’m afraid.”
Your jaw is clenched as you continue to try to free yourself from her grasp to no avail. You need to think fast or you’re not going to make it out of here alive. You feel Lady Ashmore’s body press into yours, watch her eyes flick down to your lips. They linger this time.
Oh. Perhaps you have an idea.
“Or maybe I’ve finally got you right where I want you,” you husk, your free hand coming to wrap around the wrist of the hand gripping your jaw.
“What’re you talking about? I’m going to kill you, you pathetic little worm.”
“Oh, come on.” You huff a laugh, your grin pressing your cheeks into Lady Ashmore’s sharp, immaculate nails until it stings. She eyes you with a hint of cautious curiosity. “We both know you don’t really want to kill me, my lady. Or do you think I don’t see the way you look at me? The way your touch lingers, as if you never want to let go. Even now as you threaten my life, you can’t stop looking at my lips.”
She’s so close you can feel her shudder as your thumb lightly strokes the inside of her wrist. You watch her throat bob as she swallows. “Credit where credit is due — This tactic of yours is creative. No human’s ever tried to seduce a troll before.”
You can practically see the gears turning in her head. “Creative and successful, it seems.” Your grin turns wolfish; the sight causes Lady Ashmore to dig her nails deeper into the sides of your face until blood is drawn. You suck in a shaky breath at the pain, your grip on her wrist tightening. “My point is… You’re not the only one with needs, my lady. Perhaps we could… work something out.”
She leans closer, gaze drawn to the blood droplets slowly dripping down the side of your face. “I suppose I could settle for… sending a message.”
This is actually working. Not only that — It’s igniting something deep within you, something you’ve been trying to push down for so long. She’s your enemy. You’re supposed to hate her, not crave her, but here you are, pinned to a vanity as that very same enemy leans in, sliding her hand down to your throat to make room for her tongue. She's so close, closer than she's ever been before, and while your father always said that trolls would have a putrid stench to them, she smells surprisingly nice. Too nice. You wonder, briefly, if that's the point.
Your train of thought is abruptly interrupted by Lady Ashmore's tongue as she cleans the blood from your face with one slow lick. You gasp, and she moans at the taste of you, a low, gravelly sound that sends a shiver of arousal down your spine.
“You really want this, don’t you?” She breathes, leaning back just enough to look you in the eye. Whatever she sees there must be enough of an answer for her, because she doesn’t wait for a verbal one before she slams her lips against yours, the force of it causing the back of your head to smack into the mirror.
“Mmh— !” It only takes a second for you to respond, matching her hunger with your own. There’s not much you can do in terms of movement; her hand is firmly wrapped around your throat, fingertips at your jaw again to hold your head in place. She pushes her tongue past your lips and into your mouth, pulling a groan from your throat that she practically swallows. The kiss is deep and all-consuming, a far cry from your husband's. His have always been slow and gentle, while Lady Ashmore's hungry, probing kiss feels as though she's trying to consume you and every little sound you make for her.
You’re quickly learning that Lady Ashmore gets off on being completely in control, but you’re not going down without a fight. As soon as her tongue leaves your mouth, you bite down on her bottom lip as hard as you can until you taste iron. With a surprised grunt, she jerks away, eyes wide. Slowly, you lick her blood off your lips, watching her eyes darken as she takes in the sight of it.
“Now we’re even,” you tease.
Lady Ashmore’s chest heaves with each ragged breath, dangerously silent, until finally she speaks, one bloodstained corner of her split-open lips slowly spreading into a smirk that screams trouble. “Let’s fix that, shall we?”
Before you can even think to respond, she releases you entirely. For the first time in the past few minutes, you can take a full breath, an opportunity you immediately take advantage of while this troll in human skin grabs at your clothing and begins to rip it off your body. “Whoa, hey, that was expens— Agh!” Your words are interrupted by a harsh smack across your face, the blood from your puncture wounds now smeared on your cheek. Stunned, you don’t move until Lady Ashmore grabs your face again to direct your attention back to her.
“Silence,” she growls, “or else.”
Part of you wants to bite back with some venom of your own, but the look on her face coupled with the lingering sting on your cheek keeps you in check. She waits for any hint of disobedience, staring you down with a fire in her eyes that excites you more than you’d care to admit. You've never seen her quite like this before; you've seen hints of her desire for you, but this unbridled hunger is new. It takes your breath away in an even more effective manner than her hand's previous position wrapped firmly around your throat.
“So you can behave.” She laughs, a low, condescending sound. You want to devour it almost as much as you want her to devour you. “Now stay still and stay quiet.” Leaning down, she pulls the tattered remains of your clothing off your body until they’re pooled at your feet, her teeth sinking into the soft skin of your neck just above your shoulder. Your hands fly up to grab onto her shoulders as you gasp. Biting down on your lip, you desperately try to follow her order to stay quiet as Lady Ashmore digs her teeth into you. It hurts, it burns — It feels so fucking good. A weak, pathetic whine escapes your throat despite your best efforts to keep it in and, soon, you feel that familiar slow, warm trickle of blood. There’ll be no hiding this mark after all is said and done here.
Sharp nails rake up your bare abdomen on their way to your breasts. Lady Ashmore’s hands are hot on your chest as she gropes you and soothes your new open wound with her tongue. You can feel her suck in a shuddering breath against you. “Sweet girl, you’re trembling,” she speaks softly and sweetly, a sharp contrast to the harsh twist her fingers give your nipples. You struggle to hold back a moan, jerking slightly underneath the harsh touch. Her voice is firm now when she adds, “Tell me why.”
Releasing the hold your teeth had on your lip, you realize you’ve made it bleed, your human blood mixing with the blood belonging to the troll in front of you. “Feels good,” you whine, arching your back into Lady Ashmore’s demanding touch. Your eyes find hers, and as you watch her gaze lower to your bleeding lip, the two of you seem to get the same idea at the same time. Her hand grabs your chin as your hands curl into fists around the collar of her dress; together, you pull each other in, your lips meeting in the middle. A groan that you honestly can’t tell the source of anymore is muffled in the heat of her tongue sliding against your own, saliva and blood mixing together. Her hand slides from your jaw to your hair, pulling your head back roughly until you’re baring your throat to her once more. She trails hot, sloppy, open-mouthed kisses down your neck while her free hand slides down your abdomen.
“Please,” you beg, breathless and needy and past the point of feeling ashamed for wanting this. No, not wanting this — Needing this. You’ve spent your whole life looking for your rightful place in it, and finally, you feel as though you’ve found it in Lady Ashmore's unforgiving embrace. You feel her hand slide between your legs, wasting no time at all before touching you right where you need her, and it’s at that moment you realize just how sopping wet you are.
“Such a fucking whore, begging for me to take you,” she growls against your collarbone, nipping at the skin just hard enough to pull a whimper from your throat. You groan, hips bucking into her hand as she begins to rub tight, rapid, merciless circles around your swollen clit. “What do you think your husband would think if he could see you now? Or your father? Do you think he’d still be proud of you if he knew you’d been defiled by a troll?”
“I don’t care; I just want you,” you answer, voice shaky. Your answer surprises you both; Lady Ashmore leans back to look you in the eye, a brow arched, curiosity swimming in her eyes. There's something else there, too; you're too far gone under her touch to decipher it.
“Well-said,” she husks. “I think that little act of familial rebellion has earned you a reward.” With that said, she stops rubbing you and releases your hair, instead dropping to her knees to wrench your legs open. Wide eyes glazed over with lust watch her every move, and she meets them with her own as she pulls one of your legs over her shoulder before beginning a quick trail of hot kisses up your inner thigh. Her nails dig into your sensitive skin, her teeth giving you occasional harsh nips that make you jump and gasp.
As she finally reaches where you need her most, she takes a deep breath, exhaling with a deep shudder. “Delicious,” is the last thing she says before her mouth is on you, licking a long stripe from your entrance up to your sensitive clit.
“Fuck,” you moan quietly. She keeps her eyes locked onto yours as she begins to sloppily devour your cunt, alternating between lapping your juices up with her tongue and wrapping her lips around your clit to suck on it. The tip of her tongue swirls around the sensitive bundle of nerves as you rock your hips into her face. “Oh gods,” you whimper. She groans, the sound vibrating against your clit, and your hands grip the edge of the vanity so tightly your knuckles turn white. “My lady, I— I’m going to— ”
“Cum for me. Cum in my mouth, whore,” she moans against your dripping cunt. Her tongue, hot and covered in your juices, flicks your clit. “Give yourself to me. Now.”
It only takes a few more seconds of her tongue dipping inside you once, twice, three times before moving upward to swirl around your clit once more for you to hurl over the edge into the hardest orgasm of your life. “Yes! Yes! I’m yours! Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop!” Your words quickly turn into unintelligible moans and whimpers as your legs snap closed around Lady Ashmore’s head. She doesn’t let up, ravenously eating your dripping wet cunt as if it's her last meal, and that coupled with the fact that you know it has nothing to do with you begging her to keep going and everything to do with her planning on it no matter what only intensifies your orgasm.
Finally, as you go limp against the vanity, Lady Ashmore pulls away with a satisfied sigh. She licks her lips and rises to her feet as she watches you catch your breath.
“Just give me a minute,” you breathe, reaching out for her. “Give me a minute and I’ll return the favor.” As you speak, she takes the hand you’ve offered and leans into you as she looks over the wounds she inflicted upon you in the heat of passion.
“Beautiful,” she whispers, quiet enough that you barely catch it. She tears her gaze away to look down as she searches for something on her person, then pulls out a silk handkerchief. Carefully — and much more gently than you expected — she dabs at the blood on your neck and face.
You stare in wonder at her as she cleans you. “I didn’t take you for the ‘aftercare’ type,” you joke, voice soft and slightly hoarse.
Amused eyes rise to meet yours. “Or perhaps I’m just collecting your blood for later use.”
You try to hide your rising anxiety at the possibility of truth in that statement with a huff of laughter. “Oh, duh. I knew that.”
“Mmhm,” she hums, unconvinced and smiling now.
As she finishes and tucks the handkerchief back inside her dress, you tilt your head to the side. The sting of the mark on your neck is deliciously strong, and you wince slightly at the feeling of it. “You said you’ve been keeping an eye on me because of my family. Is that... the only reason?"
There’s a moment of hesitation before she steps out of your reach, turning away before you can see her face. “Yes.”
You furrow your brows, standing straight now. “… Ah. Right.”
“You should go,” she says, dusting off her dress. “You will put on one of my dresses and leave my home immediately.”
You blink. “But— ”
Finally, she turns back to you, tilting her head as she glares. “Go now before I change my mind and kill you like I should’ve done in the first place.”
Stunned, you slowly stand up straight before moving to find replacement clothing — and maybe a scarf of some sort to hide the bite mark on your neck for now. The puncture wounds on your face can be passed off as something innocent. You put the clothes on in silence before heading toward the door, clicking it unlocked, and opening it. You pause, looking back at her one final time, but she’s turned away again, staring up at that mural.
“Good night, my lady,” is the last thing you say before you make your exit. As you start the search for your husband, you try to push down the feeling, despite Lady Ashmore’s abrupt change of attitude, this isn’t the end for the two of you — even if it should be.
You and Grace have been friends forever. Well, more like she wouldn't leave you alone at first. You went to the same Church and Grace was very insistent on talking to you and “spreading the gospel” to another girl her age. Over time, you actually grew to enjoy her presence. When it was just you two, she was almost completely a different person. She was more open with you and honest to herself about her feelings.
You were always together, in and outside of school. Some students were confused as to how someone like you could be friends with such a nerdy prude like Grace, but you ignored it. It also seemed to make her parents happy that Grace finally found a friend like you. Someone who truly cared about their little girl. But what they didn't know was that you were far more than friends. You’d been dating in secret for three months now. It’s not like you were ashamed of it, but more so to avoid questioning and judgement from both your parents and the Church.
It all started at a sleepover, of course. Some rom-com movie played on the tv while you and Grace were cuddled up in her bed. This was normal, right? She just felt so comfortable with you.. so cared for. When the movie ended, she noticed how your breathing evened out and you laid still against her. A content smile made its way to her face as she took you in. You looked so peaceful. Her eyes flicked down to your lips, staring at them for a few seconds before shaking the thought away and carefully readjusting you against the pillows before pulling a blanket over you. She laid down again on her side, carefully raising her hand and resting it on your cheek. Her thumb gently traced your bottom lip, the thought of what kissing you might feel like. She couldn't help but feel guilty for thinking about you like that.. but curiosity soon took over that guilt.
Her breath hitched as she slowly leaned in, chewing on her bottom lip before letting out a soft sigh and gently pressing her lips against yours. She stayed like that for a few seconds, taking it in and then pulling back. She couldn't help the warmth spreading through her chest or the stupid smile that took place afterwards.
The next morning, Grace woke up first. As always. She played with your hair until you began to stir awake. “It’s too early to be awake..” You groggily complained, squeezing your eyes shut as if that would block out the sunlight coming through the blinds. “It’s seven in the morning.” Grace chuckled, resting her hand on your shoulder instead. “Exactly.. too early.” You repeated, eyes fluttering open to see Grace already staring back at you. Cute.
After a few more minutes of laying together, you both decided to get ready for the day. As you walked towards her bedroom door, you stopped and turned around with a grin. “By the way, if you wanted to kiss me, you could've just asked.” You teasingly spoke before walking out. She immediately paused what she was doing and stared at where you once stood with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.
────────────────────────
Anyway, back to now. Keeping a relationship secret wasn't easy, but you managed. Today you were at Grace's house in her bedroom while your parents were out shopping together. Safe to say, you were taking advantage of finally being alone together.
Your arms looped around her waist as she straddled your thighs, fingers tangling in your hair with a gentle tug that pulled a shaky exhale from you. She smiled down at you, pressing a kiss against your lips like she’d been waiting to do since you came over. You moved your hands to rest on her hips, letting her lead the kiss. After a while, you reluctantly pulled away and glanced over at her door.
“..What’s wrong?” Grace softly asked, confused on why you pulled back so suddenly. “I thought I heard something..” You quietly whispered, waiting a few seconds before brushing it off and looking back up at your girlfriend.
She warmly smiled down at you, twirling your hair around her finger. “It was probably nothing. Just the house settling, yeah?” She tried to reassure you, untangling her fingers from your hair and cupping your cheek. You leaned into it, your own hand moving up to cover hers. Warmth spread throughout your body, savoring the feeling of her body pressed against yours and her soft lips pressing against you again. This time more eagerly than the last. Gentle hands roaming your body causing soft sounds to escape both of you. Unfortunately, you were both so into it that you didn't hear the front door or Grace's bedroom door open.
“Oh my goodness!” Karen exclaimed, causing you to immediately pull away from each other. Grace got out of bed, opening and closing her mouth trying to think of something to say. “Mom! You're home early!” She finally sputtered out in panic, looking back at you. You gave her a guilty look, standing up next to her for some kind of silent support.
Karen shook her head, hand coming up to rest on her forehead. “I need to lie down..” She quietly spoke, turning around and walking out the bedroom. And that was enough to cause Grace's eyes to water up. You took her hand in yours, which she accepted. Mark stayed behind along with your parents who were in just as much disbelief.
“Say something.. please.” You softly spoke, eyes looking between your parents. A short stretch of silence went on before your mother finally said something. “Why didn't you tell us?”
“We weren't sure what you'd think..” You honestly spoke after your initial shock of the question wore off. Grace subtly intertwined your fingers, head down in shame.
Your dad crossed his arms, an unreadable expression as he looked between you and Grace. “We’re going home. Let's go, y/n.” He finally spoke, turning around to leave. Mark followed behind. Your face fell, afraid of what was to come. You looked over at your girlfriend, more worried about what she’d have to endure after they left.
“Y/n.” Your mother repeated, waiting for you to go. Grace gently squeezed your hand before letting go, already missing the warmth and comfort as she watched you leave. While you made your way down the steps, your mother looked back at Grace, her expression softening. “Hey.. they'll come around.” She softly reassured her before leaving.
Grace was shocked by that, but it eased some of her worries. She always felt safe with your family.
While you were sitting in the car staring out the window, your parents turned down the radio and began talking to you. About rules. “Be patient with her parents. It's a lot for them to take in.” Your mother spoke, looking back at you from the front seat. “And two, no closed doors.” Your father added.
a/n: i struggled with this one for some reason, but we push through :p
idk if you’re still taking requests but i loved your dating spencer post and was curious if you had something like that in mind for angela? hope you’ve been well btw
omg you are so sweet anon <3 i’ve been doing just fine and i hope you’re doing well also!! :) i will happily write some dating angela headcanons!
dating angela giarratana hcs
warnings: vague implications of a little sauciness (pg-13 maybe?), gn!reader, alcohol consumption.
clingy in a good way. holding your hand, resting her legs on your lap, sitting a little too close whenever you're on a couch, or playing with your hair. she always has to find a way to be touching you.
sings around the house constantly and makes up little songs about whatever she's doing. you have dozens of videos of her performing improv musicals just for you in your living room.
loves to cook for you.
you've learned to keep a pair of her glasses at your desk at work, just in case.
definitely a double/triple texter with no shame. you love when she sends her thoughts in 18 little blurbs rather than one long paragraph.
if you're at any of her shows (you almost always are), she immediately looks for you in your usual seat somewhere in the front row. you can always tell when she spots you, even if she doesn't wave. there's just a softening of her eyes for a moment that only you can catch.
after a full high energy day at work, angela is thankful you're entirely content just laying on the couch/in bed watching reality tv or just taking a nap together. her brain can entirely shut off and she feels comfortable enough to fully relax in your presence.
her mom LOVES you. your first thanksgiving weekend with her family, she wakes up that morning to see you're already up, helping her mom cook and prep for the day. the two of you were a few mimosas in, laughing like old friends while chopping vegetables.
she shows you baby pictures of angela over glasses of wine on the couch as the evening winds down, angela curled up in your side. she doesn't even care if the photos and stories her mom tells are embarassing. she's never been happier than she is with you.
the two of you had a cheesy family christmas photoshoot with spork in matching sweaters and sent out christmas cards.
i feel like she's extra affectionate when tipsy. like out at the bar, all her hesitation about pda goes out the window after a few drinks.
completely available seat next to you? she'd prefer to sit on your lap with her arms looped around your shoulder. holds your hand or places her hand on the small of your back whenever you walk around, so people will know she's yours. she'll pull you into a dark corner to sneak in a quick sloppy makeout away from your friends but not away from the occasional onlooker. impatient, nearly desperate hands and lips in the backseat of the uber home.
Yooooo, life is a few weeks away from getting super busy for me, but I am also in the midst of a bit of a writing roll - so this is the perfect time for requests.
If you have any, send them my way and I will prioritize them (and my sequels to other fics) before I become less active for a bit.
I am especially down for Adrian Chase ideas
Especially if you have any ideas for season two based plots: since I've been thinking a lot of fics set in season one or before season two. I also lowkey want to write for John Economos and kind of Fleury.
But as usual, I will take any fandom, just let me know and maybe be a bit patient, I'm not always the fastest. Love you all, thanks for all the support :)
Nothing here is written by us, we're a recommendations blog, these are all pieces written by other creators
If there's anything you think we've tagged incorrectly/you have a users tumblr where we don't/a link is wrong or broken - please let us know and we can adjust it
Feat. content about Mystreet, Starkid, Hunger Games
Reader insert content ahead
✅ - SFW Content
🔞 - NSFW Content
Vylad Ro'meave
✅ For the rest of my life by @chackyxyooj
Vylad/GN!Reader
Paul Matthews
✅ Mornings by @dumbass-nibblyfan
Paul/GN!Reader
Finnick Odair
What's the point in being everybody's girl? by @cheriecoke
Finnick/F!Reader
