#and i felt a lot of fear over the course of many months while i navigated being openly queer

[fushitoru]

tw periods, slight angst surrounding periods and period typical misogyny, misunderstanding, fluff at the end, a lot of suggestiveness LOL. this is post-canon, after bridgerton!gojo and miss itadori get married

a/n you are warned this is not a drabble this is almost a fic (still a bit short tho) but i was too lazy to make a layout for it

you woke beside your husband, bridgerton!gojo, with a peculiar slickness between your thighs and a slight ache in your joints, particularly that of your lower back.

at once, you knew what it was---your courses. you couldn't help but feel a little disappointment; while you and satoru had only wed recently, your...child bearing efforts had been rigorous. however, it had only been about a fortnight since you had become missus gojo, so it would be reasonable to assume a child was to come in due time.

that is to say, becoming with child was not what was troubling you at all---it was the tangent, irony smell of blood between your thighs, and, if you did not take quick action, it would soon stain your marital bed.

but the biggest worry of all: your husband.

unfortunately, you did not know his...stance about the monthly affliction women face. it was true you felt you could discuss anything with him---after a whole season of fighting like fools, you both had shown each other your most vulnerable parts. however, you were not sure how he would react to the blood that was slowly trickling out of you. would he be disgusted? would he want you to sleep on a seperate bed? the both of you shared your marital bed every night, despite the fact that the gojo manor had many other rooms and one that was formally yours, too.

yet it was not his disgust that you feared most. it was his silence---that he would silently hold back his true feelings of disgust to care for you.

you shook your head. you definitely could not stomach making him bear such responsibility. to be safe, you would distance yourself from him for a couple of days.

looking once more at him, you were relieved to see him sleeping peacefully like a babe next to you. in his slumber, he had wrapped his arms across your waist and buried his head in your chest. as carefully as you could, you unwrapped yourself from his arms and waddled miserably towards the door, and outside, until you found nobara.

after you had debriefed her in your formal room (the one where you were supposed to sleep in, but it had gathered dust nonetheless because satoru would not tolerate distance between you two), she sent a pointed look at you. "you are being ridiculous. that man is a lovesick fool when it comes to you."

"i know he adores me, which is precisely why i do not wish to be close to him during my courses," you mutter back, clutching your stomach and sitting uncomfortably on the bed. "what if he stayed silent about his true sentiments---"

before you could finish, a hesitant knock came on the door and came the voice of your husband. "my love, are you inside?" he sounded concerned, and your heart broke; he must have been confused why you were not by his side when he woke.

then, panic welled inside of you, and you quickly stood up, then immediately shrinked in pain. in a shrill voice came your response: "give me some time, dear, to get dressed!"

then came a confused but brief, "all right," and he obediently stayed outside the door, waiting for you. you hurriedly put on proper attire---not before putting a linen cloth over your crotch to temper the bleeding---and opened the door.

there he was: dressed in a white shirt that was clearly shrugged on in a daze, and pants. it was truly a shame you were resolved to avoid him and any intimate engagement; if it weren't so, you would have dragged him back to your bed for a reenactment of last night.

it seemed that this time of the month had amplified your lust; you were gazing intently at his bare chest and stomach and didn't notice how he had been trying to say something. it was only until he grabbed your hand and started walking that you got out of your reverie. "where are we going?"

"to break our fast," he sighed, looking at you with trace of amusement in his eyes. "it seems that you cannot seem to concieve any words of mine without food in your stomach."

heat creeps up your neck, but you stay silent as he leads you into the drawing room. he sits you down next to him on the couch, and you're so overwhelmed with the heat of his presence that you dizzily sit next to him, while he murmurs things to the maid. it's only until you are alone with him that he pulls you close, onto his lap---you panic once more.

you both have been spending your time as newlyweds at each other's sides; in the morning, he ushers everyone else out of the drawing room and pulls you onto his lap to feed you pastries by hand; during the day, the both of you find some way of keeping each other company, whether it be you reading in the library while he conducts his work or him lazing by your side as you play the pianoforte; at night....every unfortunate being in the manor knows what the both of you do at night.

however, if you were to bleed onto him, forget his reaction; you'd probably offer yourself up to the chef to be cooked for dinner.

your hands remain stiff where they hover in the air, unsure whether to wrap around his shoulders or press against his chest and shove him away. but your legs are already tucked awkwardly to one side, your skirts pooling in your lap and the linen cloth beneath them barely hanging on to dignity.

"now, then," he murmurs, voice low and drowsy, still husky with the vestiges of sleep, "would you care to explain why you vanished on me this morning?"

you stiffen slightly, gaze refusing to meet his. his thumb strokes your back through the fabric of your robe.

“i woke early,” you reply, feebly. “i did not wish to disturb your sleep.”

satoru hums, unconvinced yet concerned. “you were limping.”

your breath hitches.

he lifts his head, ocean eyes narrowing with concern as they search yours. “did I hurt you?” he asks, tone suddenly urgent. “was it last night? I—darling, I swear I never intended—”

“no! no, heavens, no,” you interrupt, pressing your hand over his mouth before he can spiral further. “it's not that. I just—” you trail off, heart pounding.

you feel a trickle escape you and remember that you are still situated on his lap. you jump up, to satoru's dismay, and pat down your skirts in a show of fluster. while you do so, you make sure to peek a glance at satoru's---mind you, very expensive---pants, and let out a sigh in relief when you find they are unmarred with any shade of red.

satoru blinks up at you, visibly startled at your sudden escape from his lap. he sits upright, arms slack at his sides, disheveled and blinking like a dog who had just been denied a treat. “darling?” he calls, voice still rough from sleep. “why did you—?”

“i just remembered—i'm meant to be with nobara,” you blurt hastily, smoothing your skirts once more. “she needed… guidance. On a matter of embroidery.”

he tilts his head, clearly skeptical. “embroidery.”

“yes,” you say, far too quickly. “she's quite hopeless with her stitches, you know.”

satoru gives a soft hum. “i see.” he looks at you pointedly, but says no more.

you nod, all nerves, and inch toward the door with forced casualness. “i'll be back before supper,” you promise, though you plan nothing of the sort. “rest, please. you looked dreadfully tired.”

and with that, you flee.

...

the day drags.

you spend an hour in nobara's company, pacing and muttering until she throws a cushion at your head and tells you, in no uncertain terms, that you’re being idiotic. you ignore her.

you then wander the halls of the gojo manor like a ghost, ducking behind tapestries and pillars the moment you hear your husband’s voice approaching.

at one point, you’re certain he sees the edge of your skirts disappearing up the staircase, because you hear a faint, amused, “hm,” followed by very deliberate footsteps that turn away.

it doesn’t help. the ache in your belly has dulled to a throb, your joints heavy and mood sullen. you've gone through more linen cloths than you care to count, and your back feels like it’s being punished by God himself.

but worse still is the shame coiled in your chest.

you miss him. you miss the warmth of his lap, the rasp of his voice when it’s still tinged with sleep. you miss the way he’d drawn heated circles into your back without even realizing it. and you hate—truly, hate—that you’re keeping something from him.

...

by the time night falls and the clock strikes ten, you’re already curled up in your formal room, not even pretending to be useful. you know, instinctively, that he’ll come.

and he does.

the door creaks open gently, as though he’s trying not to startle you. “are you hiding from me again?” satoru asks softly.

you sit up from your curled position on the chaise, wrapped in a thick shawl. you've no more excuses left in you.

he's dressed in his day's clothes, but his shirt is rumpled and a bit unbuttoned. you wish he'd cover up more, for your unscrupulous eyes were devouring the sigh. he looks tired---but not angry. never angry.

still, you look away. “i didn’t mean to avoid you,” you say, voice faint. “truly, i was a bit occupied today.”

"no, you were avoiding me," he says, without heat. "you are hiding something from me."

you nod, the confession a lump in your throat. “i was.”

satoru sighs and crosses the room, kneeling in front of you. “tell me, darling. please.”

you hesitate, and then meet his eyes. "it's my courses."

he blinks. “Your—oh.” realization dawns in an instant. his brows lift. “that's all?”

you flush. "'that's all'? satoru, i bled onto the sheets today. while you were in it---the smell was pungent! then, at breakfast, i thought i would bleed on your trousers, and i've been waddling all day!"

he makes a move to interrupt, but your shrill voice continues, giving him no opening. "and i've heard how it goes!" you cry, but then your voice quiets, now low in mood. "i just did not you know your feelings on the matter. some husbands don't say anything about it but internally do not take kindly to the display. i thought it perhaps to spare you the discomfort. if you wish, you may sleep alone in the marital bed tonight." you laugh but your hands are quivering, your voice equally shaky. "it is due time that i start sleeping in my designated room, regardless."

there's silence, and you refuse to look at him.

you nod to yourself, eyes burning. "so, please do what you are comfortable with, my dear. i will wholly understand and will draw no resentment from your choice, for it is what you wish."

and still, he says nothing.

you do not look up—not when he pushes off the door, not when you hear his footsteps retreating down the hall. the sound of the door clicking shut behind him cleaves clean through you.

you sit for a moment, frozen.

so that was it, then. he had chosen comfort and distance from you.

and that was fine. that was what you had offered him—wasn’t it?

that was what you wanted, you tell yourself. for him to be comfortable. for him to have the space to choose without pressure or obligation. you didn’t want to burden him with your body’s inconvenient truths, didn’t want to tether him to your pain out of guilt or duty.

you had meant it. you had.

still, like a traitor, your throat tightens. you press a palm against your sternum, as if you could quiet the ache blooming there, deep and hollow and foolish.

you should get ready for bed. blow out the candle. crawl beneath the covers and sleep it off—

the door bursts open.

you startle, eyes flying up—and there he is again, storming in not with coldness or distance, but with purpose.

you blink as he steps towards you—not empty-handed, but with a bundle of linens, something wrapped in muslin, and a small ceramic jar tucked beneath one arm. his expression is unreadable as he walks to your chaise.

he crouches before you, silent.

then: he unravels the cloth and reveals a warmed compress, gently pressing it to your lower abdomen with a care that nearly undoes you. his hands are sure, practiced. the pressure soothes more than you can say.

next comes the jar—some ancient concoction for cramping and pain, herbal and bittersweet in scent. he rubs a dab into your wrists, then into your temples, then—when you remain frozen in stunned silence—cups your jaw, brushing a knuckle along your cheek.

“is this allowed?” he murmurs.

you nod, too stunned to speak.

he lets out a slow breath and says, “you absolute goose.”

your lips tremble. “I thought—when you left—”

“i went to the warming stone cupboard, you little fool.” his tone is fond now, teasing, like he can’t bear to let you spiral any further. “you think I’d leave you bleeding and aching and miserable just to have a soft bed to myself?”

you shake your head, and he leans in to press a kiss to your brow.

"i married you, mrs. gojo," he teases, the same way he used to say miss itadori when the both of you were at odds. "do you think i could bear to know nothing about your body with you as my wife? or, heavens forbid, sleep alone in our bed? i knew eventually you would be curled up in my bed, looking cross and adorable while i play nursemaid." he

your eyes brim. "i'm sorry."

“you're forgiven, my love,” he says easily. “on one condition.”

you blink. “What?”

“that you stop hiding from me. i'm your husband. i'd much rather hold you while you’re bleeding than miss you while you’re gone.”

you give a watery laugh. “You make it sound so poetic.”

“i am a romantic at heart.” he stands, then scoops you effortlessly into his arms. “now come. we are going to our bed. i've fluffed the pillows, and you’re going to let me dote on you until you beg me to stop.”

you cling to him, heart light for the first time all day.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 39: Life

Summary: Something begins to throb in your chest as you lay there. Something thrums deep within you, something you haven’t felt in weeks.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 8,194 words

Warnings: Angst, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, angst, PTSD, nightmares, POV changes, depression and anxiety, illness, language, slightly graphic imagery, very slight violence, rumination, lots of feels, and yes finally some comfort

A/N: Yes, it has finally arrived. The time has come. We are now in the comfort. This very much is a good place to end things for the next month. If you haven't seen my post then I'll say it here, I will be putting the fic on a brief hiatus for the month of October. I have Kyletober planned and trying to do CRCB at the same time will be too much. So this will be the last chapter for a couple weeks while I focus on other things and just give my brain a little break from CRCB. It's been eight months of just pumping out long chapters every week, or almost every week, so I need a little break to focus on other things. I'll still be writing and posting things here (and Ao3 of course) but there won't be another CRCB chapter posted until November.

But anyway, I hope you enjoy this one and the comfort starting and I'm super excited for what's coming next month (can't believe it's almost October)

11/30/24: **This chapter has been edited and rewritten from its original version**

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“I need you to be brave.” Christine says, staring up at him. 

His heart thumps in his chest. How bad is it that not only did she summon him down here, but she’s asking him to be brave. He knows you’re sick, that you’ve fallen ill after your moment of anger earlier. She had informed them over dinner as she made some broth that you came down with a fever. 

They had all been worried, sharing glances at the news. John looked like a dog that had been scolded. It was his fault, after all. 

If anything happens to you, it is his fault. 

Johnny swallows the lump in his throat, nodding slowly as he stares down at Christine. “I can be brave.” 

Christine stares up at him for a long moment before nodding. She pushes the door open, leading him inside your room. The scent in the air is thick, tainted by the bitter scent of anxiety still lingering in the air, and the sour scent of illness. He misses the fresh scent of strawberries, he has missed it over the last few weeks. Your scent had taken on a bitter edge ever since the cameras were revealed to them. It’s only gotten stronger recently after the events that transpired. 

All of their scents have been off lately. 

It’s dark in the room aside from the bedside lamp. It casts a soft glow around the room, elongating the shadows in the corners. They loom threateningly, and his fingers twitch to turn on the overhead light. 

You don’t like the overhead light. It’s too bright. 

You always prefer softer light. Is it an omega thing, or is it just a you thing? He’s not quite sure. 

How little they really understand you. 

The lamp illuminates a pile of blankets on the bed, stacked one on top of each other to create a lump of soft fabric. You’re underneath that pile, he knows it. You’ve always liked blankets, always carried one with you in the barracks, eternally cold in the harsh world they existed in on base. This many blankets though? It was excessive even for you. 

He approaches the bed slowly, scared at what he might find. Images of you laying in a puddle of blood, cold and stiff fills his mind. Images of a skeletal figure reduced to nothing but skin stretched over bones has his heart racing. What will he find on the other side of that pile obscuring you from his vision? 

He swallows down his fear, reminding himself that he’s a soldier. He’s seen dead bodies before, he’s killed before. So why is he so scared now? 

This isn’t war. It’s you. 

He steps up to the side of the bed, looking down on you. You’re shivering, trembling under the blankets. Sweat beads on your forehead, skin dewy and clammy in your fever. You look more alive than the skeletal figure he had pictured in his mind, but you don’t look well. 

You look near death. 

“I’m worried about her.” Christine says, closing the door behind her. “She needs someone from her pack close. You’re making the most effort right now, and if anyone might get through to her, it’s you. She needs...someone.” Christine sighs. “Someone who can offer what I can’t.”  

“She needs a member of her pack.” Johnny says, easily putting together what Christine was saying. 

He knows what she’s asking. He’s scared. He’s not sure how you’ll react. The last people you want to see right now is your pack, including him. How will you react to having him so close? 

“Exactly.” Christine says, stepping up right next to him.

Her fingers wrap around his wrist, and he lets her guide his hand to your cheek. It’s hot and clammy against his palm, a fire blazing under your skin. You let out a shuddering breath, the air fanning weakly against his wrist. Your head turns just slightly, pressing into his hand. It’s a good sign, despite the delirium you have to be stuck in. What are you imagining is happening right now? What is your brain telling you? 

“Touch her, talk to her.” Christine says, releasing his wrist. He keeps his hand there, pressed against your cheek. “We need to try and get her back before this gets worse.” 

Before they lose you. 

She won’t say it out loud. 

She doesn’t need to. 

Johnny nods, turning his head to look at Christine over his shoulder. She looks exhausted, and not just because of the late hour. She’s done so much over the past few weeks watching you and caring for you. Maybe it is time one of them tries to step up and help her. You can’t avoid them forever, no matter how much you might feel like trying. 

He has to try. For you. 

“I know what tae do.” He says, his eyes flickering to the books stacked on your dresser, the ones Simon and John picked up. 

Christine squeezes his arm. “I’m just across the living room if you need me.” 

“I’ll try not to.” He says. 

She stares up at him for a long moment before nodding. She understands. He doesn’t have to say much else. She leaves the door cracked and he doesn’t mind, moving away from you to look through the books on the dresser. A handful of them are new, or at least ones he’s never seen you read before. A couple are ones he knows are in your collection at the barracks. He picks one of those, some fantasy novel he’s seen you read more than once. 

He looks between the bed and the chairs. He could pull one over and sit by your side. 

No, Christine said it was better to touch you. 

Instead he climbs onto the bed, sitting close enough he can feel the heat from your body. He cracks open the book, flipping through to the first page. He clears his throat, staring down at you for a moment before he begins to read. 

Rain batters the roof, coming down hard outside. The wind is blowing, whooshing past the house, rattling the shutters. The storm blew in from the sea, dumping rain by dinner and then the wind picked up by the time they were all getting ready to settle in for the night. 

It feels fitting, a storm blowing in at a time when a storm is brewing within their pack.

The storm he blew into their pack. 

He lays there in bed, listening to it rage outside. It’s quiet in the house, Simon and Johnny already settled in, and so are you downstairs. Kyle is beside him, but not asleep. He’s laying awake again as they have done since their arrival. He can feel the heat of Kyle’s body against his arm as he lays on his back, Kyle on his side facing away from him. 

“You just had to do it, didn’t you?” Kyle asks quietly, breaking the silence. “Can’t even go a week without trying to apologize knowing full well she won’t forgive you.” 

John stays silent, having expected some kind of reprimanding for his actions. He really was selfish for what he did. Kyle is right. You won’t forgive him, no matter how many times or ways he tries to say sorry. 

“You’re just making it worse.” Kyle huffs out. “You’re the last person that should try apologizing right now.”

“You’re right.” He finally says. “It was selfish of me to do that. I just wanted her to know-” 

“She knows.” Kyle snaps, cutting him off. “She’s not stupid and oblivious. She knows we’re all feeling guilty, she knows how sorry we all are. She won’t let us apologize until she’s ready. Shows just how little you actually understand her, trying to do that.” Kyle pushes himself up to sit. “She doesn’t want words. She’s had words spewed at her, her whole life telling her what to do, how to feel, how to act. She wants actions. She wants us to prove to her that we do care, that we are sorry, that we’re making an effort to make things up to her. She wants us to prove that we’re putting her first by putting her first.” 

John knows he’s right. Words won’t solve a situation like this. None of them know where to start, though. How do you try and make things up to someone when you’re not even sure that person wants you to try? 

“She’s sick now, because of what you did.” Kyle continues. “If anything happens to her...” He trails off, shaking his head. 

“I’ll let you take the first shot.” John says. “I know. I’ve been a miserable excuse of an alpha. It’s easy when you have the confines of the military to hold everything in place. When those expectations dictate your life and how to run a pack. It’s easy, when you can exist as a pack with those set routines and structures. The facade that makes everything seem like it's working.” He shakes his head. “We never would have worked outside of those confines.” 

Kyle’s head turns slightly towards him, but his gaze is still on the far wall. “No, we wouldn’t have. None of us would have chosen this in the first place.” 

“Probably not.” John agrees. “Then we got an omega added, an outsider that showed us just how weak we really were.” 

“We were crumbling long before that.” Kyle says. “We weren’t ready for an omega, we shouldn’t have ever had an omega.” 

“I should never have been head alpha.” John says. “Being an alpha is different from being a captain. It shouldn’t have been me.” 

Kyle snorts. “He would have never agreed.” 

“That delay might have saved us.” 

“Or it would have made things worse.” Kyle says. “Shepherd wanted us to bond with her right away so his control over us would strengthen if he had to use that power. If those bonds weren’t put into place when they were, they might have tried to force it.” 

“That would have only destabilized things further.” John says. Kyle isn’t wrong. Who knows what lengths they would have gone to, to ensure what they wanted would happen. “They were watching us from the start. They knew exactly how to play all of us.” 

“Simon was right all along in his suspicions.” Kyle says, laying back down on the bed. Their shoulders are touching. It feels nice, having him close again. They’ve been close for the last few days, forced together by their sleeping arrangements, but it feels different now. 

“He’ll be a better alpha than I ever could be.” John says quietly, almost speaking to himself. 

“I think she will come to forgive you eventually.” Kyle says, turning his head to look at John. “You just have to give her time. A lot of time. You have to figure out how to prove yourself worthy of that forgiveness.” 

“I want to take her to the beach.” John says. “Once she’s recovered.” 

“If she recovers.” Kyle had pieced together the worry in Christine’s voice combined with her words. They all had. 

“She will.” John says, sliding his hand across the sheets. “She’s a tough little thing. She’s not going to give up just like that.” 

“I hope you’re right.” Kyle says. He doesn’t pull away as John’s fingers brush his hand. 

“I may not have the best track record with being right currently, but I’m confident in her and her strength.” John turns his head to look at Kyle in the darkness. The storm is calming outside, the wind dying down and the rain lightening. “She’s stronger than all of us combined.” 

The corners of Kyle’s lips twitch. “You are right about that.” 

It smells good. 

There’s a rich scent in the air as you begin to wake. It smells like Christmas, like spices and citrus. Warm gingerbread and cider. Freshly squeezed orange juice on Christmas morning just like every year. It had been your favorite, though you never understood the lengths your mother went to, the early morning and the hours spent in the kitchen on Christmas slaving away to make everything perfect. Everyone got something they wanted, something they loved. You never appreciated that effort until now. 

Oranges. Spices. Warmth. 

You know that scent. 

It’s hot in the room, sweat soaking your skin as you lay on your right side. Heat surrounds you like a cocoon, just like the scent. Warm and soft and too much. You try to wiggle out from under the blankets but you can’t move, so instead you shuffle them off. Some of them hit the floor with soft plops, the others just barely hanging on the side of the bed, trapped under your body. You’re still stuck, still hot as you lay there, a comforting weight around you. The scent floods your nose, fills your body with a pleasant feeling as you lay there, breathing through your nose. Oranges, spices, warmth. 

Someone is baking a pie.

It smells good. You want to bury yourself in it, press yourself into that scent until it’s the only thing you can smell. It brings you a comfort you didn’t realize you were missing. Something fills your chest, a weight beginning to press down inside of you.

Your hair sticks to your face as you lay there, tempted to get up and see who is baking and why. There’s weight pressing down on you from the outside as well. You can’t move. You’re stuck. 

The weight around you moves. 

No, it’s not pie. 

It’s Johnny. 

That’s why you know the scent. That’s why it feels so familiar, so comforting. It’s Johnny. Johnny is pressed up against your back, his arm tossed over your waist. That’s why it’s so hot, his body putting off warmth like a heater. 

You should be angry at the breach of your clearly placed barriers. You should be upset that he would come in here and just climb in bed like this. You should be pissed that one of them would try something like this after your outburst yesterday. 

You shouldn’t be crying. 

Not out of relief. 

Oh how you missed this. 

Something begins to throb in your chest as you lay there, crying quietly in Johnny’s arms. Something begins to thrum deep within you, something you haven’t felt in weeks. Life? Hope? Happiness? 

You should be upset. 

You can’t be. 

Johnny grunts quietly behind you, his arm leaving your waist as he stretches. He’s awake now, or maybe he hadn’t been at all and had been waiting for some sign of life, some movement from you, something to try and give him a hint at what you must be feeling. He doesn’t say anything, laying still as you sniffle in the silence. No one else is up yet, despite the blue light of dawn coming in through the gap in the curtain. 

“Johnny?” You whisper, even the quiet sound hurting your sore throat. You’re thirsty, desperately so, but that’s a problem for later. 

“It’s me, kitten.” He says hesitantly, the pet name making a sob tear from your throat. 

“Johnny,” You cry, the tears falling in a cascade. You can’t stop them. You’ve lost complete control as you lay there sobbing. “Hold me.” 

He doesn’t say anything else, his arms wrapping around you and tugging you close against his chest. He locks you in his embrace, holding you tightly against his chest as you cry. It feels good. Life and energy flows through you again for the first time in weeks. That empty space in your chest begins to fill slowly, warmth blossoming in your body despite the sweat soaking you both. Johnny offers no complaints as he presses his face into your hair. 

How you missed this. 

How you need this. 

You seem more relaxed at dinner. Despite your angry outburst the day before, and your sudden illness, you look significantly less miserable than you did your first attempt at joining them for dinner. The yelling did a number on your throat, but even now it’s nothing compared to that first day. You’re having soup again, and this time there’s a side of mash and peas next to the bowl. 

You even walked to the table without the crutch. 

Simon sits beside you again, all of them taking their respective seats at the table. They’ve assigned themselves these seats, even when you don’t join them for a meal. You’re at the head of the table as you were the first time, Simon and Chrstine on either side of you. Kyle and Johnny are seated next to them, and John is across the table from you. You’ve been avoiding looking at him. You haven’t even so much as glanced up at him. 

Simon is watching you carefully out of the corner of his eye, trying not to make it obvious. If you’ve noticed, you haven’t shown any disapproval. He’s ready in case he has to act fast again, but you are far more steady than you were that first time. There’s no tremble to your hand as you bring the spoon up to your mouth. 

The others look happier than before too. Johnny has stopped crying. Not even a sniffle from him ever since this morning when he emerged from your room. None of them had said anything about it, though they have an inkling of what had happened, judging by Christine’s lack of reaction to it. Kyle looks happier too, sitting straighter like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. It probably has, with the lightening of the mood. Whatever happened with Johnny this morning, it’s made a huge change already.  

John has never been much of a religious man, but god bless Johnny for whatever magic he worked this morning. 

You don’t even look feverish as you sit there, spooning soup into your mouth. A lingering low-grade fever, Christine had informed them earlier that afternoon, but significantly less concerning than things had been yesterday.  

He’s glad to hear it. He’s always glad to hear Christine’s updates on how you’re doing, how well you’re healing, at least physically. The body heals easily. Mentally...there’s still a long way to go. Healing physically will help mentally, but with all the trauma, years and years of trauma, it’s going to take a long time to heal from that. 

The clink of your spoon in your bowl draws him from his thoughts and he glances up at you. 

“Getting full?” Christine asks as you take a sip of your water, wincing slightly as you swallow it. 

“Can I have some tea?” You ask. 

“Sure,” Christine says, going to push her chair back, but John is already standing.

“I’ll make some.” He says, not offering any room for argument as he turns his back on the table to head for the kettle. 

You’ve been drinking more tea lately, likely to soothe your throat. He never thought he’d see the day, given your determination to stand with Johnny on the side of coffee. It’s a bit late for coffee, but he does know it wouldn’t keep you awake in the slightest. You love your sleep, as most omegas do, and nothing will get in the way of it. Not even some late evening caffeine. 

He sets mugs out on a tray, deciding to make tea for everyone. At least that way it’ll make it seem less targeted at you. He’s not doing it to try and impress you or win your affections back. He just wants to help take the load off of Christine’s shoulders. She’s done so much for you, for all of them, already. 

He steeps the tea before bringing the mugs to the table along with some milk and sugar. He knows at least Simon and Kyle will drink some, and he will as well. He brings the kettle over, filling the mugs with tea. All of them sit there watching him, waiting tensely for what will happen next. Will you take the mug of tea he offers? Or will you refuse. Even if you threw it in his face, it wouldn’t make him mad. It would be horribly painful, yes, but he would deserve it. 

Perhaps him doing this was a mistake. 

He stares at the sugar and milk as he grabs one of the mugs. Do you like sugar or milk in your tea? He’s not sure. He doesn’t even know how you take your tea. He knows you like creamer in your coffee. But how do you take your tea? 

What a sad excuse of a human being he is. 

You don’t look at him as he sets the mug next to your water glass. You’re still eating your soup, your hand trembling just slightly now. Your scent is tainted still, a whiff of it filling his nose. Displeasure, a hint of burning anger. 

This was a mistake. 

He sets the milk and sugar next to you first, letting you finish making your tea. He won’t push that boundary and risk making it wrong. It would only add fuel to the fire, make it more obvious that he knows and cares so little for you. He doesn’t even know how you take your tea. 

He takes his seat again as the others help themselves to the tea, even Johnny taking a mug. Whether he’s doing it because he wants to make the moment feel less awkward, or because he genuinely wants some, John will never know. 

He made a mistake in doing that. 

Still, despite the awkwardness, it felt good to do that. 

Maybe that’s how they get closer to you. 

The little things, things that take some of the pressure off Christine. She has to be getting tired, going nonstop all day. Anything they can do to help, they should. Things seemed to go well with Johnny, so maybe the others can have some success in their attempts to gain your favor once more. 

John will have to stay away for now. Distance is what you need from him. 

That’s alright. He has other things he can do. 

He tries to hide the small grin on his face as you pick up the mug, taking a sip of the tea. 

They’re fighting. 

You stand at the back door watching them throw punches. They’re solid punches, nothing held back, no pulling them. They’re all breathing heavily, two of them watching the other two fight. 

Simon’s fist meets Kyle’s shoulder, Kyle’s fist going for Simon’s head but he’s too fast, ducking before he drives his shoulder into Kyle’s stomach. Kyle hits the grass, disappearing from your view. 

John steps forward, pulling Simon back and speaking to him, but you can’t hear from this distance. 

“Still out there?” Dr. Keller asks, stepping up beside you. 

“Yep.” You say, watching as Johnny takes Kyle’s place against Simon. 

“John did say it would be good for them.” Dr. Keller says, wincing as Johnny’s fist hits Simon’s ribs. 

“They’re gonna start a real fight.” You say, watching as Simon starts to get more aggressive. You can tell because you’ve been in that position before. You’ve seen when that switch starts to flip, when the alpha starts to take over. He was never this aggressive with you, but perhaps even his alpha could be rational given your obvious size and strength difference. 

And the fact you’re an omega. 

“Well, that’s their problem.” Dr. Keller says. “As long as they keep it out there.” 

“They might make you patch them up afterwards.” You say. 

She lets out a snort. “There’s ice packs in the freezer and a first aid kit in the bathroom.” 

You try to hide your smile as you watch John get in between Johnny and Simon, speaking to Simon again. Maybe it will be good for them to get some of that pent up energy out. They’re all used to being so active and always having something to do. Being stuck inside has to be driving them stir-crazy. Simon has been going on runs in the morning, and you know John has been going on walks every so often. 

You’re starting to feel a bit stir-crazy yourself. It’s taking you back to the days shut up in the barracks, unable to go anywhere or do anything, having to entertain yourself for hours while they were gone. At least there you had space and room to move around, even when you were being trailed, one of them constantly following you around. They might not be hovering quite as obviously here, but it still feels suffocating, like you can’t truly have a moment to yourself. 

“I want to go for a walk.” You say, shifting on your feet. The likelihood of you going very far is slim, at least right now. 

How far you’ve fallen from your running days. 

“I suppose you could go for a little walk.” Dr. Keller gives you a sideways glance. “Might be good to help get your strength back. I doubt they’d let us go without one of them, though.” 

“Probably not.” You agree, knowing they won’t even let you sit out on the porch without one of them watching. If you left the house without even telling one of them, all hell would break loose and you’d be condemned to your room once more. 

The thought makes you wince. 

You almost wish you could go out there and throw some punches at one of them. That might make you feel a bit better. Hell, line them all up and you’ll take turns beating the crap out of all of them. Maybe that might heal some of the anger and pain still stuck inside of you. 

That’s an idea for a different day, though. 

It’s oddly warm out today, or at least that’s what Ashley said. Soon the weather will turn, though, and the cold rain will come. Lots of rain. 

Your eyes flick between Ashley and Dr. Keller. The three of you are seated in a circle around a table outside, steaming mugs of tea in front of you. Neither of them are staring at you, instead focused on each other as Ashley speaks. 

Dr. Keller has a crush. 

It’s not hard to tell. Her eyes are focused on Ashley, a smile tugging at her lips. Her gaze only flicks to you when you shift and move in your seat before she’s staring at Ashley again. You can’t blame her. You can hardly bring yourself to look away from Ashely too. 

It makes you almost miss Kyle. 

They have the same soft brown eyes and the same bright smile. They’re both perfect, like they were chiseled out of marble and brought to life. They even laugh the same, a genuine chuckle coming right from the chest. 

It makes you want to laugh, even if you have no clue what was being said. 

How has Kyle been handling this? You’ve hardly paid him any mind. His connection to John puts him too close to the source of your anger and rage and pain. Johnny cries, Simon is a brick wall, John reeks of guilt and misery. Kyle...you don’t know. He’s been a blank spot, a hazy figure in the distance. 

It almost makes you feel bad. You’ve completely cut him off, isolated him. Has he cried? Has he been sulking? How miserable does he feel about everything? Does he feel guilty or miserable at all? He has to. They all do. 

Good. You think. They deserve it. 

“You do get stuck in your head, huh?” 

Your gaze snaps up, looking between Dr. Keller and Ashley. They’re both staring at you quietly, a small smile on Ashley’s face. You did get lost in your thoughts again, stuck in your ruminations as you usually do. Lately it hasn’t been a problem, as you’re alone or with Dr. Keller often. You’re supposed to be thinking and processing. It just happens at the worst times. 

Simon would hate it still. 

“Something specific on your mind?” Dr. Keller asks. 

You probably shouldn’t say anything. How would you explain how your mind went from Dr. Keller crushing on Ashley to hoping the guys feel guilty? You’re not even sure you should reveal that you know about Dr. Keller’s crush, especially if she hasn’t said anything yet. You don’t think she has. They’re not...close in the way a couple would be, a distance still between them. Does Ashley feel the same way? It’s hard to tell since you don’t know her quite as well yet. 

Maybe that can be your goal, besides healing. Something to focus on, something to distract from the constant emotions and pain. Get Ashley and Dr. Keller together. 

They’d be perfect for each other. 

“Not really.” You finally say, looking down at the book in your lap. You’re about halfway through it. It’s fine. Nothing to write home about. 

“What do you think of the book?” Ashley asks, sensing your end to that discussion. She doesn’t push. You like that about her. 

“It’s alright.” You shrug. “Kinda slow.” 

“They are spending a lot of time on character development.” Dr. Keller says. 

“We should keep a tally of how many times the phrase “his dark eyes” gets mentioned.” Ashley says, making you laugh. 

“It’s good to hear you laugh.” Dr. Keller says, smiling at you. 

“It...feels good to laugh again.” You say. “It’s nice to have something to laugh about.” 

“Well then I’m going to make that my mission.” Ashley says, taking a sip of her tea. “Get you to laugh as much as possible.” 

You don’t think you’ll mind that one bit.

“There’s something we need to talk about.” 

You don’t turn to look as Dr. Keller sinks into the seat next to you. It’s raining again, the rain pattering against the window as you sit in front of it. They won’t let you go out in the rain. 

“Something that is rather important.” She continues. “Something you should know.” She clears her throat, not waiting for a response. She knows she won’t get one. “When you told John that he left you there to be tortured...is that what Graves told you? Did he tell you they left you behind?” 

Her words have something sinking in your stomach. Your insides are squirming, your intestines tying themselves in knots. You haven’t even thought about that. You’ve been so caught up in the emotions, swept up in the anger and devastation. The memories of what happened are still blurry, still stuck in the recesses while your body heals. 

That pit in your stomach continues to drop as she stares at you, waiting for an answer. 

You don’t want to answer. 

“Hey,” She says softly, leaning to try and stay in your line of sight as your eyes begin to drop to the side. “We need to talk about this.” There’s a serious look on her face as your eyes slowly lift to stare at her again. “Do you believe they chose to leave you behind with Graves?” 

Tears prick behind your eyes as you stare at her. Of course you do. Why wouldn’t they? They’ve left you behind so many times, what’s another? They don’t care that you were being tortured. They never cared that them leaving you before was like torture. Why would they waste the chance to go after Shepherd before he found a place to hide? 

The job comes first.

“Yes.” You breathe, a tear sliding down your cheek. You want to say it, let all the thoughts rushing through your mind pour right out of your mouth but the tears choke you, keep you silent. 

The serious mask on Dr. Keller’s face melts away to a sympathetic look. It doesn’t surprise you. It’s the look she often wears when she looks at you. 

“Oh, honey.” She says, reaching out, but you withdraw yourself further away. “They didn’t leave you behind. They were doing everything they could to try and find where you were. John about blazed a path across the US to find you.” 

You don’t want to believe it. It sounds too good to be true. Her words stir the bitter pot in your stomach, the anger at them and at yourself. You let yourself believe that they would care about you, but they led you to believe they cared. They left you so easily and you never said anything to them to try and keep them with you. They left you behind when they knew it was dangerous, and you believed Phil when he told you they had abandoned you. 

Why would Phil tell you the truth? He wanted to torture you, wanted to take out his anger on you. It wasn’t your decision, nothing was your decision, but in the end the mark on your shoulder sealed your fate. You’d never belong to him. The more he could tear you and your pack down the better. The more hopeless you felt, the more you hated the members of your pack, the more satisfaction he would get. 

He wanted to drive the wedge between your pack, and you fell for it. 

Tears glide down your cheeks as you turn to face the window. They mirror the droplets of rain sliding down the glass. Your fingers curl against the fabric of the chair, your breaths starting to come in gasps as reality begins to settle in. 

“You’re okay.” Dr. Keller says, kneeling next to the chair. “I was there with them, I saw just how desperate they were. They wouldn’t leave you like that. Trust me.” 

Can you trust her? Can you trust any of them? Part of you would like to. The part of you that wants things to go back to the way they were, when things felt fine, when you still believed your pack loved you. Back when you could be delusional and believe something good could come of this entire situation. 

Now you’re stuck with a pack that never wanted you. Now you’re stuck with the trauma of the last few weeks, trauma you should have never faced in the first place. Not if your pack truly cared about you. It was always a risk, but you always believed they would take care of you, they would keep you safe. 

Now look at you. 

A sob tears from your lips as you sit there, the thoughts quickly growing to be too much. Dr. Keller reaches for you but you pull away, pushing yourself up to stand. You move towards the bed, grabbing one of the plush pillows. You bring it to your face, letting out a long, muffled scream.

The scream dies in your throat as you jolt awake in bed. The book that had been in your hands when you fell asleep drops to the floor with a quiet thud as you jerk up into a seated position. You’re breathing heavily, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you try and calm your racing heart. It’s beating hard like it might beat right out of your chest. You’re shaking, your hands clutching at the baggy shirt you’re wearing like you’re trying to cling to some hope that it was all a dream, that you’re awake now and this is real life. 

Sweat beads on your forehead as you sit there, shaking in the darkness. You need someone. The shadows are closing in around you, your nightlight unable to keep them completely away. You need someone to fight them back. You need someone to reassure you that it was all just a dream, someone that can wipe the tears streaming down your cheeks and whisper softly to you that it’s all okay. That it’s all over. 

You need Kyle. 

Where is Kyle? How do you get to him without waking the others? You could go upstairs but what if they think you’re an intruder? You don’t even know which room Kyle is in. You wish you had a phone. You wish you could call him. You wish you could just telepathically reach out and tell him you need him and only him. 

You’ll wake them all anyway trying to find him. 

You suck a breath in, your hands still shaking as they cling to your shirt. You have to do it. It’s the only way to get them all down here, to get Kyle down here. 

You take a couple deep breaths before you scream. 

Within seconds the house is alive, footsteps racing across the living room towards your room as others thud from above. 

The overhead light stings your eyes, forcing them closed. It’s too bright, intrusive even with your eyes pinched closed. You can still see it behind your eyelids, harsh and too artificial. Just a price you have to pay to get what you need. 

Dr. Keller’s hands are soft as they peel your hands off your shirt, your fingers trembling with nothing to hold on to. They open and close, seeking out something to grip, something to give you an anchor to reality. You’re still panicking, your breaths shaky as you shit there, trembling in fear. 

“You’re alright,” She tries to soothe you, brushing your sweaty hair back. “It was just a dream.” 

You wish it was. 

“Kyle.” The name comes out as barely a whisper, stuttering out of your trembling lips. 

“What was that, sweetie?” Dr. Keller asks, leaning in closer. 

“Kyle.” You whisper louder now, the name shaky in the tense silence of the room. 

“Kyle,” Dr. Keller repeats, standing up straight. 

Quiet, hesitant footsteps approach the bed. Your eyes are still pinched closed against the harsh overhead light. You can’t bring yourself to be brave enough to open them, to face that harsh light. It might reveal the truth, that it was all just a dream, that this is still just a dream. 

It might not be Kyle approaching the bed at all.

You can’t know. You don’t want to know. You’re afraid to open your eyes. 

There’s a click as the lamp is turned on. You still can’t bring yourself to open your eyes. It’s supposed to be comforting, the soft light, but it could be used against you, giving you a false sense of hope and security. 

You flinch as the overhead light is turned on, still too afraid to open your eyes. Your hands have closed around the blanket pooled at your waist, gripping it so tightly your fingers are aching. It’s real. You’re touching it, you can feel the texture of it in your hands. It’s real. 

It’s real. 

Your breaths are shaky as you breathe in and out, trying to catch a scent. Any scent. Something to tell you that you’re really awake, that it really is Kyle standing next to the bed. 

“I’m here.” A soft voice says, something hovering in the air next to you. 

Kyle. 

You know that voice. You’d know it anywhere. 

You finally crack your eyes open, tears brimming as you turn your head to look up. Kyle is standing there awkwardly next to the bed, his hand raised as if he was reaching out to comfort you, but thought better of it. You’re glad he did. You might have spiraled into another panic if he’d touched you before you knew it was him. 

You stare at his hand for a moment before you peel one of your hands away from the blanket. Your hand is shaky as you lift it, reaching out towards his own trembling fingers. 

His fingers are warm and rough, just as you remember as they close around yours. You’re still shaking, a cold sweat forming on your skin as fear trickles down your spine. 

What if this is a dream? What if this isn’t real?

“I’m here.” He says, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles. 

You want to believe him. You really do. 

You pull his hand closer, pressing your cheek against it. His skin is warm against your cheek, and like Johnny, he makes no complaints about your sweat smearing on his skin. You’ve been that close to them before, sweat mixing together, slicking skin. How far things have fallen since then. 

Your tears drip onto his skin as you hold him there, just breathing him in for a moment. He smells like the sea, but with that soft, light scent underneath. You missed that scent, more than you realize you did. 

You let out a quiet sound as you rub your cheek against his hand, almost like you’re trying to embed his scent under your skin. 

He doesn’t say anything as you lean against his hand, tears still streaming down your face. The lamp is pushing some of the darkness away, but it’s not enough. It’s never enough. You can still feel the eyes from the dark corners of the room, the shadowy figures just out of view threatening to reach out and tear you away. 

A shudder runs down your spine, your fingers squeezing around Kyle’s in what has to be a painful grip. 

“I’m here.” He says again, pulling you from the dark thoughts plaguing your mind. He’d know if someone was here. He’d know if anything threatening was nearby. 

It’s his job. 

The job. 

The thing that’s kept you so separated from them, kept you at a distance. The thing that put your life in danger, that exposed them all as liars. The thing that’s left you an empty shell.

Maybe having him down here was a mistake. 

But the shadows...

You tug on his hand, pulling him closer to the bed. He sinks down on the edge carefully, still a bit hesitant. You don’t blame him. It’s not like you’ve been the most welcoming of them. For good reason. 

You need him right now. That need for safety and security far outweighs the conflicting emotions battling in your brain right now. 

“Stay.” You say, the word tumbling out from your trembling lips. 

“You’re sure?” He asks, his thumb still stroking your knuckles. You’re not sure if he even knows he’s doing it. 

You nod, tugging him closer as you scoot over in bed. He lets you guide him, laying on top of the covers.

You try not to think about it too much. 

It’s nice having him close. The shadows don’t seem quite as dark, the threats in them silent now that he’s here. He’ll keep you safe. He’ll protect you from the silent threats. That’s why you want him. That’s his role to play in all of this. They all have roles, they all have their places in the pack. They all have a part to play, not just for you but for each other. 

They’ve been struggling. 

They’re struggling because you’re struggling. 

The silence is loud as you lay there listening to the hum of electricity. You’re not quite sure what to say, how to break the silence. What is there to say that you haven’t already conveyed by your silence? What is there to say beyond what you’ve conveyed in your anger? They all heard your outburst, they all know the source of your anger and what they did to cause it. 

What’s left to say when you have nothing tying you together anymore except a claim and a half-broken bond? What is there to say when saying the wrong thing might fray that bond even more than it already has been? 

“I’m sorry.” Kyle says, finally breaking the tense silence. 

Of course he’d start with that. 

You let out a huff, turning on your side to face away from him. “I know you all are. You don’t have to keep saying it.” 

He lets out a sigh. He knows it. He’s not apologizing to you, for you. “Nothing can change what we did and we know that. We just...want you to know that we’ll do whatever it takes to help you and support you. We don’t want to push that boundary too far, but we’re all here if you need us.” 

You let out a hum. You already know that too. That’s why Johnny came so willingly, that’s why he stayed. That’s why they all tiptoe around you and stare at you like you’re a wild animal that may strike at any moment. 

Part of you wishes they wouldn’t. 

Part of you wants to go back to the way things were. Part of you wants to pretend that everything is normal again, that you love them and they love you just as much. You want to go back to that comfortable, seamless flow of one around the other, the way they all moved in sync, aware of each other without even needing to look. You want to insert yourself into that flow again and let them guide you along with them. You want to trust them blindly again and know they’d catch you if you fall. 

They proved they won’t though. They proved you can’t trust them to catch you. You’re on your own again, forced to catch yourself, forced to save yourself. You have to make that rope to catch yourself with. 

Yet, a deeper part of you yearns for that connection. Your omega screams for it, for your alpha, for your pack. You want them back with you, you want the bonds to heal and to be stronger than they were before. You want them to do as they said and prove to you that they’ve changed, that they're putting you first. 

The omega should be first. The omega should be the center. The omega should be the sun they gravitate towards, revolve around.

That’s what the book said. That book that’s sitting on your desk in the barracks. That book you read over and over, convincing yourself that it was true and they were a good pack like that book said. 

They’re not. 

We all make mistakes. 

They’ve never had an omega before. How are they supposed to know how to have an omega in their pack if they’ve never had one before? None of them came from big packs. John is the only one who’s ever even dated an omega before. They’re just as new at this as you are. 

You probably know more than them. 

You spent years learning how to be an omega in a pack. You read the books and wrote the essays and did the research. You read that book. 

Simon read that book too. 

Yet he did nothing. 

“Why did you want me?” Kyle asks softly, pulling you from your ruminations. 

You turn your head to look at him, staring into those soft brown eyes. Brown eyes you’ve missed. Tears trail down your cheeks as you stare at him, wetting the paths of the ones that had slowed to a stop in your rumination. 

Why did you want him and not Johnny? 

Johnny was the one that came for you, that comforted you, that got you through your fever. Johnny was the one you asked to hold you, to give you that support you’ve been so desperately clawing for. 

So why did you ask for Kyle?

You turn onto your back again so you’re laying side by side, your shoulder brushing his. He’s warm, and you just want to nuzzle into him and never let him go again. 

Another tear slides down your face as you stare at him, at that concerned look on his face. “I need you to tell me it’s going to be okay.” 

That concern morphs into understanding as he shifts slightly, reaching out for you. You let him, you let his thumb brush the tear sliding down your cheek away. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just staring at you as you lay there in the warm light of the lamp. The shadows don’t seem so close now, so threatening with him here. The things that lay in the darkness waiting for you to sleep so they can seep into your mind and stir up the horrible memories lying there in wait are at bay for now, fought off just simply by his existence in this room. 

His thumb continues to brush your cheek, your skin tingling along the path it follows. “It’s going to be okay.” He says softly, quietly. 

You’re not sure if he’s convincing you of that or himself, or perhaps both. You don’t know what he’s feeling, what he’s been feeling. You’ve been ignoring him, pushing him away out of fear that if you looked too closely, you’d break down. That bond will never break between the two of you, held tight with steel simply because of that claim your alpha and his alpha has on the both of you. No matter how much you hate John, that bond can’t be broken. It can’t be cut. It can’t go away. It can’t be denied. Not completely. 

A small smile tugs at Kyle’s lips, a reassuring smile. His words are stronger this time, spoken with more conviction and surety, like he’s speaking it into existence, manifesting it for the future when things perhaps can be different. 

When things are better. 

“It’s going to be okay.” He says, cupping your cheek, staring right into your eyes as he speaks. “We’re going to be okay.” 

NEXT ->

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[angrythingstarlight]

Bucky’s accountant: “sir you’re spending a lot of money on mrs and miss barnes-“

Bucky: * glare* “are you saying they don’t deserve it?”

Bucky’s accountant: “n-never mind”

Bucky enjoys it when you spend his spend money. He's made it abundantly clear that he wants you to have a soft, luxurious life. He doesn't want you to have to worry about finances. He takes care of everything. That includes you. All you have to do is let him.

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader

CW: Little bit o' fluff, Little bit o' smut.

A/N: Unbeta'd drabble for the Bumblebee series.

Your name is on all the accounts, the deeds, his businesses (the legitimate ones anyway) and of course, it’s embossed on his black card. He loved giving you that. And he laughed when you asked about a limit. There isn’t one. He told you to get whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted.

Bucky knew from the jump that you were going to have reservations. He’s been working you through them.

So you can imagine how he felt the day his accountant knocked on his office door to inform him of a suspicious charge.

Bucky sits in his chair, staring impassively at Gregory as he lists off the recent expenses he discovered while reconciling Bucky’s accounts this morning. “...and there’s a charge for almost ten thousand at a supply shop. Some art place in Manhattan. And there’s another one at a bookstore for nearly a grand. I can have these reported—”

Bucky runs a hand down his face, revealing the beginning of a grin. The rare sight of the mobster smiling throws Gregory off kilter, causing him to trail off in disbelief.

10k on your hobbies? That’s his girl.

“I approve. In fact, I approve of everything she buys.”

“Sir. I must say that this seems excessive.”

“It’s not.” That smile is gone as quickly as it appears, and Gregory shrinks back in his chair. “I told her to spend at least ten times that this month. All her purchases are approved. No matter what she buys. My wife gets whatever she wants. Do you understand?”

His voice leaves a chill in the air and this time, when he smiles, it sends a slither of fear up the portly man’s spine.

“Yes, yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” He’s dismissed without a word, leaving Bucky to contemplate all the ways he’s going to reward you tonight.

You crouch down, taking the small shopping bag off her shoulder and setting it next to the pile by the sofa. Straightening her light pink sleeve, you dust off the front of her dress. "Remember what we practiced."

Bee nods seriously. “I remembers Mommy.”

“When Papa asks what we bought today—”

“I say it’s our secrets,” she eagerly interrupts with a grin. “And then I run real fast.”

Bucky knocks on the open door. Once. Twice. “How’s my girls?”

“Hi, Papa!”

You glance over your shoulder to find him leaning against the doorframe, one leg crossed over the other, hand in his pocket, and a curious glint in his eyes. “Hello sweet Bee. You have fun today? What’d you get me?”

She opens her mouth before shutting it when you poke her in the belly. “Our secrets.”

“Our secrets Papa.” She repeats, shrugging both shoulders. “Can’t tells you.”

“Aw, but I don’t have any.”

You know that tone even if your innocent, adorable baby doesn’t. Bee’s eyes soften and you can see her starting to cave. You have to intervene now before she tells him ‘jus’ one cause he needs it’.

A smirk pulls at the corner of his lips as you defiantly gaze into the stormy depths of his piercing blue eyes.

“Don’t fall that Bumblebee. He already knows too many. Remember? You’re going to run over to your office so he doesn’t get anymore of our secrets and you’ll get two cupcakes after dinner. Ready?”

Bee takes a deep breath, gauging the distance between her and Bucky. “Weady.”

“Go!” you encourage, her giggles filling the room as she takes off. “Run Bee!”

Bucky shifts, stepping into the middle of the doorway, his six-foot-something frame filling the space. Pride blooms in his chest when she fearlessly keeps running towards him, skirting around his long legs with a mumbled ‘scuse me Papa."

You smother a laugh when she lets out a spirited cheer over making it out the room. The joy coursing through you fades to a thready hum of anticipation.

She may have made her getaway but you're very much trapped.

He waits until her giggles fade down the hallway and the sounds of Bluey filter out of her office. Then he turns all his attention to you.

“How much did you spend?” Bucky leans back against the doorframe, his eyes darkening as they skate over the bags to your pretty face.

“Enough.”

“I doubt it,” he hums under his breath. He holds up two long fingers, beckoning you closer. The seemingly innocent gesture is down right obscene because you have first-hand knowledge what those fingers are capable of. “Now it’s your turn. Let’s see if you can get past me.”

You don’t.

He lets you take about three steps before he grabs you. Kicks the door shut. Bends you over the side of the couch, knees sinking into cushions, your head hovering over the edge, near the bags you refuse to let him open. Takes you apart with his finger and tongue before splitting you open on his cock.

Praises you sweetly for spending his money while fucking you like he was punishing you for not spending more.

Which you both know he is.

He makes you work for it, makes you promise to treat yourself as good as he treats you, leaves you so desperate and on edge that you agree to everything that comes out of his mouth.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

All those little pleas drive his hips faster and deeper until they meld into an incomprehensible keen.

By the time you get there, that peak is so sharp and blinding it nearly hurts, leaving you drowning in a sea of overwhelming pleasure, your eyes rolling back, vision blurring as his hips grind into you, his thumb rubbing a perfect, rough circle around your clit.

He can’t think of a more beautiful sound than the low, frantic sob tearing from your lips.

Bucky is almost satisfied. Almost. Still, he doesn’t quite believe you. He thinks you’re going to need a little more convincing.

It’s going to take a few more rigorous sessions to make you come around. See things from his perspective. Understand that while you might be able to take him, he’ll always come out on top. That he’ll ride you over and over until you relent and let him give you what you deserve.

And he’s more than willing to do whatever it takes to get you to spend more.

Bucky places a soft kiss on your tear-streaked face, his soft lips move to your ear while his hips start moving again.

“We’re just getting started, Malyshka.”

And I—

[scarlet-star-witch]

The moon and his sun (Part IV)

Aemond Targaryen x female reader

Summary: People would remember their story. Even decades after they were gone, Septa’s would tell young children about the one-eyed dragon prince and his sweet wife as if they were a part of a fairytale, too good to be true for the harshness real life possessed.

Aemond meets a young girl who quickly becomes his most cherished friend and changes the course of history.

Word count: 11.5 K

Warnings: Angst begins, still lots of fluff, smut (of course), Aegon still being an ass

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

~~

The court was in a frenzy.

The news of their betrothal spread through King’s Landing like wildfire. It was all anyone could talk about for days on end. Some felt vindicated, that the rumors they had been spreading for months had finally come to fruition, while others were skeptical, unsure of what such a sweet young girl saw in the surly one-eyed Prince. 

The gossip was never ending, with many speculating the couple had been consorting inappropriately in private. While many knew of Ixtal’s customs, that they weren’t as strict about their Ladies maidenhood as they were in the rest of Westeros, it didn’t stop the looks of indignation she received from certain members of the court who turned their noses up at the mere possibility she had sullied herself before her marriage.

While Aemond hated the speculation and had to be held back more than once from storming over to a group of tittering Ladies and threatening to take their tongues for daring to speak ill of his betrothed, she found it laughable. She had to remind her betrothed they weren’t exactly wrong. 

Their nights of pleasure together were only all the more exciting and mind blowing knowing they would have each other forever, that they no longer needed to fear what the future held. 

They could finally relax, they would soon be each other’s in the eyes of the Gods and no one could take that away from them. 

Their wedding was spared no expense. Lords and Ladies of great houses from across the realm traveled to the Capitol to witness the union of a Targaryen Prince and the daughter of the most prosperous house in the realm. 

Aemond paid no mind to the fanfare. All he cared about was her. 

He barely got to see her in the weeks leading up to their wedding, with her swept up with the Ladies of the court in dress fittings and as her family arrived at King’s Landing, she was rarely seen without her dear younger sister or mother at her side. 

The King demanded a three day tourney be held to celebrate, with lavish hunts and feasts raving practically each night. Aemond had never seen his father so excited and he knew it had little to do with him and all to do with his dear friend, the Lord of Ixtal, that their families would officially be uniting. 

He rolled his eyes at the whole affair. He just wanted to marry his love. He didn’t want all this attention and unnecessary flourish. 

She would laugh softly everytime he slunk into her chambers at night, her bright eyes alight with mischief, a delighted smile on her face at the annoyance on his.

“Couldn’t stay away?”

“You know I couldn’t.” He crooned, inhaling her scent as he hugged her tightly from behind. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

“I am.” She answered with a blissful smile. “Are you?”

“I was ready to marry you years ago.” 

She practically swooned, leaning her head back onto his shoulder, her gaze filled with nothing but devotion. She never would have pictured this for herself. She never could have imagined she would be able to marry her best friend, that she would find a love so pure and so beautiful for herself. She didn’t think that kind of love even existed. 

“Everything seems so perfect.” She spoke softly, reveling in his embrace. 

He hummed in agreement, wishing they could go find a Maester now to perform a ceremony and bind themselves together. He didn’t want to wait another minute. He just wanted to be her husband. 

The next morning, the entire Keep was a flurry of activity. Maids scurried in and out of her chambers to prepare her, most desperate to catch a glimpse of the Island girl that would soon become a Targaryen princess. 

She sat nervously at her vanity, her hands fidgeting in her lap. 

Today was the day she would finally marry her best friend. It all seemed too good to be true, as though they had gotten away with some elaborate plan. 

“You look beautiful, my love.” Her mother spoke, her eyes already brimming my tears.

“I’m not even in my dress yet.” She laughed as her mother waved her off, wiping under her eyes as she had been doing all morning. 

To her left, Alicent stood, her demeanor much more reserved than that of her own mother and sister, who could barely contain their excitement. The Queen had yet to crack a smile since she had entered her chambers and had been silently picking out jewelry for her to wear, barely sparing a glance to her soon to be good daughter. 

A nervous lump grew in her throat. She didn’t have the best relationship with Aemond’s mother, even as children, the woman seemed disinterested in speaking more than a few words to her. She at least thought the day she wedded her son she’d try to bridge the gap between them, but it seemed she still had little interest. 

She didn’t seem all that thrilled her son was even getting married. 

The maids around her all gestured for her to stand and move towards the floor length mirror, their excited giggles growing in volume as her dress was brought forward. 

Her breath hitched. It was real. This was happening. 

Her heart was racing as the maids helped her dress, her eyes beginning to sting with the pressure to cry the happiest of tears. 

“I assume you know what is expected of you tonight.” Alicent’s voice broke through the throng of excited chattering, abruptly shattering the positive energy in the room. 

The way Alicent looked at her, so intently, almost judgmentally, made her want to shrink. She swallowed and nodded. 

She felt a hand at her shoulder, her mother’s presence steadily at her side.

“We have already discussed what her duty is tonight.” Her mother answered for her, her voice sounder stiffer than before. 

Her mother had been in King’s Landing barely a day before she figured out what her daughter and her betrothed had been up to for months. Aemond had been horrified when his future good mother blurted out their long held secret. 

She was sure he would be blushing for the rest of his life. Even after her mother laughed heartily and assured them she would never tell a soul, that she held no judgment for them, he still had trouble meeting her eye out of sheer embarrassment. 

With one look at Alicent, the Lady of Ixtal knew she would do whatever she needed to do, say whatever she needed to say, to not let the frigid woman before her try to sink her claws into her daughter. 

She would not ruin her daughter’s big day. 

 Alicent hummed, the sound neither that of satisfaction or disdain, and she remained quiet, though her critical eye never lessened. She had no compliments for the young girl who donned her beautiful, extravagant dress, she had no well wishes for the girl as her eyes brimmed with happy tears.

All Alicent could fixate on was how angry her father was at the turn of events. They had lost a monumental opportunity to gain allies due to the girl in front of her. She had bewitched her son, her uncivilized ways weakening Aemond’s sense of duty and proprietary. She never forgot how her son had stormed into her room, practically demanding a betrothal. It was so unlike him, not at all how he had been raised to act and she knew the Ixtal girl was to blame. 

All she could do was plaster on a fake smile and hope everything her father had worked on for years wasn’t all for naught. 

~~

She was a vision as she stepped out of the carriage, her pulse thrumming in her ears, her hands trembling in anticipation. 

In a matter of minutes, she was going to be married to the love of her life.

“Are you ready?” Her father asked, a soft smile on his face as he stared at his first daughter with barely contained emotion. She nodded eagerly, latching onto his arm, taking in a final deep breath before they stepped inside. 

The crowd of guests were in awe as she passed, though she could not spare a glance to any of the onlookers that seemed to swoon at the sight of her. Her gaze was locked onto the man at the front of the room, meeting his eye effortlessly.

Aemond had been watching the door and nothing else for the past few minutes, anxiously awaiting her arrival. The second she stepped inside, his breath had been stolen from him. 

He felt nervous flutters within him, as if he was once again that little boy who was in love with his best friend before he even knew what it meant to love someone. 

His vision blurred slightly as tears gathered in his eye at the sight of her, so beautiful, so perfect, his wife. 

They couldn’t take their eyes off each other as her father removed the cloak from her shoulders. Aemond felt his breath hitch at the sight of her in her dress, the shape of her body, the delicate silk outlining every curve he had spent many nights memorizing and worshiping. 

As he stood before her, placing the heavy Targaryen cloak over her shoulders, he breathed in her familiar scent, calming every one of his nerves. 

He took her hand, guiding her up the steps of the dais. No one said a word as he kept his hand in hers, the crowd was absolutely enraptured by the sight of them, the Ladies dramatically sharing looks of longing at the couple as neither one of them spared a glance to the Septon that began the service. 

They only had eyes for each other. 

No one could deny the love they shared. As they spoke the words that bound them together, their smiles dazzling, no one could deny this was a marriage of pure love. 

“I am hers and she is mine, from this day until the end of my days.”

The words left him with ease. He used to dread this moment as a child, hating the idea of being bound to a woman he didn’t know and didn’t care for for the rest of his life, purely out of duty. 

Now, he couldn’t imagine saying the words to any other person but the woman in front of him. The thought of spending the rest of his days with her, his love, brought him nothing but relief and endless happiness, a feeling he never pictured for himself. 

Since he lost his eye, since a piece of him had literally been taken from him, he had always felt slighted, but now, as the Septon announced their union, as he kissed her for the first time as his wife, he felt whole again. 

He was no longer that overlooked second son, he was no longer that scarred and feared man who longed for revenge. 

He was a husband, he was her protector, her friend, her love. He felt he finally had a meaningful purpose, one that meant so much more than the duty his family expected from him. 

The crowd cheered voraciously. It wasn’t often they got to witness a union so blessed by affection. 

Aemond kept his awed gaze on her as they made their way down the aisle, his hand clasped tightly in hers, paying no mind to anyone else around him. 

They could scarcely keep their hands from each other. 

During the feast, Aemond kept his hand on her thigh, his touch thankfully hidden by the long train covering the table. As both of their fathers gave speeches, spouting lovely rhetorics of family and peace, he couldn’t bring himself to listen to a word of it. 

His attention was focused solely on the woman beside him. His wife. 

He felt himself smiling just at the thought of it, that he could finally say the word. 

When the music started and they made their way to the floor to share their first dance, a moment Aemond had been dreading for weeks, he found he couldn’t care less that everyone’s eyes were on him. 

He realized nothing else mattered. Everything he thought would make him feel insecure wasn’t even a thought in his mind. He held her closely, his heart racing as if they were dancing for the first time, as if he was touching her for the first time.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile so much.” She spoke with a laugh.

“I have a good reason to smile.” He responded with a smirk as he twirled her. 

The guests couldn’t take their eyes off the couple as they danced. Most felt they were intruding on an intimate moment with how intently they gazed at each other, their love radiating from each of them effortlessly. 

They noticed how the couple sparsely ceased their touch from each other. The Lords present couldn’t help but feel slighted there would be no bedding ceremony. They were sure it would be a spectacle with how the Prince eyed his new wife with a hunger most men couldn’t conceive for their own wives. 

Aemond’s pout as his new wife accepted Helaena’s offer to dance, leaving him to sit by himself, would be fodder for most of the gossip the next morning. 

He watched her with a small smile, looking more at ease than the court had ever seen him, content at the mere sight of her delight as she twirled around with Helaena, their shared laughter ringing out louder than the music playing. 

He took a small sip from his wine, content to not drink much more, knowing he’d rather have a clear head for what the rest of the night held. He would finally take her as his wife, he would lay with her, spill his seed inside her without consequence. 

After tonight, her stomach could swell with his child and no one could say a thing. 

The thought made him desperate to drag her to their new shared chambers. He would be eager to see the end of the feast and lay with her for the rest of the night, but with how happy she was, he wouldn’t do a thing to take her away from it. 

As she twirled with Helaena, her head back, eyes closed, a picture of pure happiness, she suddenly lost her footing. She stumbled slightly, her eyes widening, but sturdy hands on her waist stopped her from falling to the floor. 

“Mind if I cut in?” 

She stiffened at the voice in her ear, turning to see Aegon’s smarmy smile. She wanted nothing more than to wrench his hands off her, but she couldn’t make a scene at her own wedding. If she displayed any ounce of discomfort by his hands, she was sure Aemond would forever be tainted as the man who killed his own brother on his wedding night.

“Aegon…” Helaena called out wearily, not wanting her dear friend to be subjected to her brother’s cruel games, though she didn’t have power in her own corner to derail him.

“It’s alright Helaena.” She assured her, giving her a weak smile to the Princess who eyed her worriedly for a moment before retreating back to the head table. 

She cleared her throat and stood stiffly, holding back a grimace as Aegon’s hand slipped around her waist, his other taking hers, his grip tight and domineering, as if he wanted to prove to her how much stronger he was than her.

“You were lucky my grandsire allowed this to happen so quickly.” He spoke blatantly as they began to dance. “I was hoping to expose your big secret to the court.”

She felt her insides twist. Knowing Aegon was aware of her and Aemond’s secret, of their sneaking around, had her wanting to retreat where no one would find her. Even now they were married, Aegon still had the power to destroy her reputation.

She just hoped he ruined his own before he had the chance to tear her down. 

“You think they would listen to the words of a drunken idiot?” 

His smile turned wicked, his disdain for her clear, though there was no denying the lust in his gaze as he looked at her. He didn’t have to like her to fuck her. 

“More than they would listen to a whore who spreads her legs for anyone.”

“You mean my husband?” She retaliated, her patience for him wearing thin. 

Aegon chuckled, though his bitterness was clear. He leaned in close, his nose almost brushing against hers. She jerked back, sending him a vicious scowl, all she could allow herself under the prying eyes that surrounded her. 

“You could have been mine.” He crooned, the wine on his breath making her feel nauseous. “Gods only know why you decided to settle for my twat of a brother. As if he could please you better than I could, as if he could fuck you the way I could. I bet you were the first woman he ever bedded.”

His words made her feel sick to her stomach as she staunchly looked past his shoulder, refusing to look him in the eye. She didn’t want him to know how much he could get under her skin. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“I would rather let the entire brothel of whores you sully yourself with flay every layer of my skin off slowly until I beg for death than ever crawl into bed with you.”

Aegon only smirked joyously.

“The mouth on you.” He admired with a shake of his head. “Such a shame it’s wasted on my brother.”

“Aegon.”

The stern voice of his brother made his eyes widen for a fraction of a second and he quickly schooled his expression, quickly removing his hands from his new good sister, plastering on a smirk so his brother wouldn’t see how successfully he could intimidate him.

She turned, meeting the questioning gaze of her husband. She nodded subtly, silently assuring him she was ok. 

He’d been chatting with her brother but the moment he spotted her in Aegon’s arms, he had abruptly given his well wishes to his new family and was quickly making his way to rescue her from his lecherous brother’s grip.

“Are you ready?”

She nodded eagerly, linking her arm through his, more than eager to say goodbye to the feast and make her way to bed with her new husband. 

“What, no bedding ceremony?” Aegon called out, forcing Aemond to send him a wicked glare. 

“Not if you wish to live, brother.” He spat and turned on his heel, desperate to get his wife far away from his depravity. 

He was more than thankful his good father had appealed to his father about doing away with the bedding ceremony. The Lord of Ixtal cared about his daughter too much to put her through that embarrassment. 

“Did he do anything?” He asked under his breath as they walked away, ignoring the cheers of congratulations from the guests he cared little for.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

Aemond’s jaw clenched in anger, his instincts telling him to turn back and threaten his brother within an inch of his life for daring to speak to his wife in ways that were anything but cordial. 

The moment they stepped out of the grand hall, allowing them a brief moment of privacy in the empty hallway, she pulled her arm from his and took his hands in her own, turning to face him, a soft smile on her face.

“Don’t let him ruin our night. This isn’t about him or anyone else. It’s about us.” 

He let out a long breath and nodded, though it wasn’t an easy feat to let go of the anger that burned hotly at the mere mention of his debauched brother’s attention on his love. 

“Besides, I’m quite eager to get to bed and if my husband chooses to delay any longer, I might begin to rethink this union.” She teased, smiling victoriously as his eye darkened with desire.

Her laughter echoed in the halls as Aemond practically dragged her to their chambers, his quick pace signaling he was equally as eager as she was to lose themselves in bliss.

~~

She lay draped across his bare chest, the sheets pooled at their hips. She hummed in contentment, her limbs aching, her eyes heavy with exhaustion as Aemond gently ran his fingers up and down the length of her arm. 

Any other night, his touch would lull her into much needed sleep, but the excitement that continued to course through her veins stubbornly kept her eyes open. 

She turned her head, looking up at her husband.

Gods, she would never get over saying that.

He looked down, their shared smiles growing as their gazes met. 

Her hand that was placed on his strong chest cheekily began to move lower, making him laugh.

“You can’t possibly be needing more.” He spoke tiredly. They had already gone multiple rounds, he had already pulled a countless number of orgasms from her. 

“I thought I married a dragon.” She teased. “Are you saying you no longer have the stamina to please your wife?” 

Aemond’s gaze darkened, his exhaustion worn out by his desire she could so effortlessly spark. 

“You dare to doubt me, wife?” He crooned, knowing how deeply the word affected her, watching with satisfaction as she practically preened against him, a wickedly delightful thrill coursing through her at the mention of their newly married status. 

She laughed and pushed at his chest, forcing him to lay back onto the pillows below him. He eagerly expected her to crawl atop him and ride him in the deliriously, mind bending way she could, but he was left in a pleasured surprise as she began to press heated kisses across his abdomen, moving lower torturously slowly.

He let out a heavy breath, his body thrumming with anticipation. He hissed as she took him in her mouth, his head falling back, already feeling weak under her touch, sensitive from his previous leg-shaking peaks. 

Her wicked tongue knew exactly what to do to render him a useless fool who couldn’t remember his own name. His hand tangled in her hair that was already a mess from their previous passionate rounds. 

His breath left him in heavy pants as she worked him with her mouth at a quick pace. He knew her well, he knew the determined glint in her eye signaled trouble for him. She went further and further and took him deep in her mouth until the tip of him hit the back of her throat. 

He whined, writhing against the bed, his hand that wasn’t pulling at her hair pathetically fisting the sheets below him in an effort to keep himself tethered to some semblance of control that she was steadily shattering. 

“You are wicked.” He moaned, the delight in his voice causing her lips to curl around him in the guise of a victorious smile. 

His lips were parted with a litany of moans and whines as he watched her, eagerly taking in the sight of her, his cock in her mouth, her eyes alight with desire, greedily taking his pleasure. She sped up the pace of her mouth, delighted at the sound of his loud groan echoing throughout the room. 

His toes began to curl, his weak body, already spent from hours of ecstasy, leaving him powerless under her. 

He called out her name frantically, sounding more debauched than he ever would have imagined he could have. 

“Oh fuck, just like that, darling, don’t stop.” 

She doubled her efforts, eager to see him fall apart. She loved to hear his noises of pleasure, to see him so unrestrained as he let himself fall to the haze of bliss. His back arched, both of his hands grabbing fistfuls of her hair, as if to ensure she wouldn’t leave him wanting, that she stayed worshiping him as she was, as only she could.

“Love,” He warned, feeling his end nearing, feeling the familiar fire beginning to stir within him, one that came before a powerful release. With only a few more flicks of her tongue, he felt himself shatter. 

He cried out, a loud, desperate sound most wouldn’t believe to have come from the surly Prince, as he came. His vision was stolen from him as he had squeezed his eye shut in the moment of climax, though he wouldn’t have denied that she had just extricated his soul from his body, leaving him to lose what was left of his sight. He didn’t doubt she had the ability. 

His chest heaved, his jaw slack, small whines leaving him as she was slow to part from him, her mouth lazily working his spent cock that twitched in overstimulation at her touch. 

He reached for her blindly, his limbs weak as though he had just fought a grueling battle. She grabbed his hand, laughing softly at the sight of him thoroughly exhausted. 

She allowed him to pull her over him, his hands desperate to touch her, to feel her close to him, to prolong the pleasure running through him. 

He kissed her hand, his lips moving up the length of her arm until he reached her neck, smiling at the sound of the contented noise that left her lips as he found the spot that always made her giggle with ticklish delight. 

“One of these days you are going to stop my heart.” He told her, still working to catch breath. 

“I would never do such a thing.” 

He smiled and kissed her firmly, his mind a haze of delirium. He briefly wondered if he was dreaming, for this seemed too perfect to be his life. He kissed her again, as if to confirm that this was real, that the woman that just brought him pleasure like no other was truly before him, that he was lucky enough to now call her his wife. 

“Give me five minutes and I will return the favor.”

~~

Their marriage was nothing short of blissful. Now there was no longer a need to hide, the public was shocked by how affectionate the dragon Prince acted towards his wife. One was seldom seen without the other. 

Maids constantly gossiped about the salacious noises heard from their shared chambers practically all hours of the day. With the noises the new Princess made nightly they couldn’t help but begin to lust over the elusive Prince, or at least wish he could give some tips to their own lovers. They almost fought over who got to service the Prince and his new wife to catch a glimpse of the lovesick expression on the feared one-eyed dragon’s face. 

It had to be seen to be believed. 

They knew it wouldn’t be long until the announcement of a new Targaryen babe was made. 

Aemond hated the attention. He wished he could take his wife across the sea and indulge in their newly wedded bliss in private. 

He had just sneered at yet another passing Lady who practically fawned at the sight of the two of them, when she laughed, tucking her arm tighter in his. 

They had simply been walking in the gardens together and still couldn’t escape the gossiping Ladies of the court who could talk of nothing else but their marriage and ponder about the feared one-eyed Prince’s new found prowess among the Ladies. 

“Do they have nothing better to do?” Aemond muttered in annoyance.

“Our novelty will wear off soon.” She assured him. “They are just not quite used to seeing you so… soft.”

“I am not soft.”

She laughed, the sound causing him to look over at his wife incredulously. The disbelieving look on his face only had her suppressing more laughter, 

“Tell me, dear husband, if I told you my legs were hurting and I couldn’t possibly make it to that bench over there, would you not carry me?”

Aemond regarded her for a moment, an almost imperceptible pout growing on his lips as he contemplated the situation. He knew there was no way he wouldn’t indulge her in anything she asked for. 

“That does not make me soft.” He answered defensively, though he knew he was a lost cause. 

She giggled at the obvious answer as they continued to walk. Aemond looked over at her, eyeing her carefully for a few moments, his brows furrowing.

“Your legs are not hurting are they?” 

Her laughter rang out in the gardens as she leaned in closer to his side. Aemond felt his own smile tugging at his lips and he placed a kiss to the top of her head.

He knew he would endure all of the petty gossip that came his way. He would endure a lot worse just to hear that laugh again. 

He almost couldn’t believe the bliss he was living in. He loved her more than he thought it was possible to love someone. Now that they no longer had to hide their true feelings for each other, now that they were married and could freely show affection without any repercussions, he found himself living in a dreamlike state. 

It felt too good to be true. 

Every day was spent showing the rest of the court just how much she meant to him, how he was hers and she was his and no one else mattered, while late nights were spent tangled in bed, their limbs weak with pleasure, a time just for them and no one else. 

As she got up to pour them another cup of wine they had been drinking before he had dragged her to their bed, she looked over her shoulder at her husband who was looking up at the ceiling tiredly, a content smile on his face.

“Have I finally worn you out?” She teased as she handed him his cup. 

He chuckled softly and took the cup, drinking down much needed swallows of the sweet wine. She crawled back into bed beside him, settling herself in his open arms once again. She pressed teasing kisses across his chest, feeling the hum of soft moans that escaped him. 

He cupped her face and kissed her firmly, the gesture lacking much heat as they were both thoroughly spent from the haze of pleasure they’d been tangled in for hours. 

He pulled away, letting his forehead rest against hers as he took her in, simply admiring his wife with an awe that was certainly not unfamiliar to either of them. 

She noticed a flicker of something she didn’t recognize flash across his face, his eye softening almost imperceptibly. 

“What’s on your mind, Love?” She asked, nuzzling in closer to him as she sensed his sudden anxious energy. 

He stayed quiet for a moment longer, carefully contemplating his next words and if he should divulge the sudden thought in his head to her. 

“What if…” He started softly, his teeth worrying his lip as he feared her reaction. “What if you didn’t drink any moon tea tomorrow?”

Her expression smoothed out in surprise at his request. She couldn’t deny that it was something she had thought of since their wedding, but she had never spoken of her fantasies of silver haired children with her husband. She knew he had complicated feelings for his own family, especially his father, and she never wanted to bring it up in fear of pushing him to something he feared.  

“Is that something you want?” 

“I want everything with you.” He told her sincerely. 

The beaming smile that grew on her lips soothed every ounce of anxiety he had and he breathed out deeply, leaning forward to kiss her once more. 

“You’re going to be a wonderful father.” 

Her whispered words made his insides twist and flutter in ways that left him holding back the flood of emotions he hadn’t expected, her words soothing the deep rooted anxiety he felt at the prospect of starting a family, no matter how badly he wanted it. He had no way to tell her how grateful he was for her, there were no words conceivable to tell her the depth of his love for her. 

So he settled for kissing her, silently thanking the Gods above for bringing him to the woman in his arms. 

~~

Aemond stepped into their shared chambers the same time he always did, his perfect hair slightly disheveled from his time spent training. He stopped in his tracks, the warmth in his expression gone in an instant as he eyed the Maester sitting before her with growing apprehension.

“What’s wrong?” 

She laughed at his blatant worry as he approached her quickly, reaching for her hand. 

“Everything’s fine, Darling.” 

“What happened?” He turned to ask the Maester, all care gone from his voice, leaving nothing but strict power as he demanded an answer. 

“The Princess wasn’t feeling well this morn-”

“Are you alright? Why didn’t you tell me?” He interrupted, turning his attention back to her, his concerned tone back in full force, all traces of the demanding Prince gone as he kneeled before her, his expression wracked with worry. 

She smiled again in amusement and looked to the Maester. 

“Would you mind giving us a moment?” 

The old man nodded respectfully, giving her a warm smile and hastily leaving the room, most likely relieved to gain some distance from the dragon Prince with the feared temper. 

She intertwined her fingers with Aemond’s, taking in a deep breath as she prepared herself to bring him the life changing news. 

“I have been feeling a little off the last few days and I called the Maester to confirm my suspicion.” She explained vaguely, her mischievous smirk remaining as she watched Aemond’s brow furrow deeper in concern. 

“And?”

Deciding to finally let her husband off the hook and spare him his heart that was no doubt racing in anticipation, his dramatic mind probably conjuring horrible conclusions, she guided his hand forward, letting his palm rest flatly on her stomach. 

She watched him carefully, noting the exact moment he realized what she was telling him. His lips parted and his gaze moved from his hand to her face abruptly, his eye shrouded in disbelief, looking at her pleadingly, as if needing confirmation that this was real. 

She let out a laugh and nodded, tears brimming in her eyes at the pure love she saw in Aemond’s. He let out a breathless laugh, the sound of delight one she had never remembered ever hearing from him before. He grabbed her hands, swiftly bringing her to her feet and barely a second later, he was hugging her tightly, his hands gripping onto her desperately.

Her delighted laughter filled the room as he twirled her around, the moment filled with nothing but elation. 

“Thank you.” He whispered from where his head rested in the crook of her neck. 

She smiled, her own emotions rising at the sound of him so touched, so loved. 

He pulled out of the embrace, his gaze immediately falling to her stomach that had yet to show any evidence of the life that grew there. He pictured it swelling, the bump that would grow with their child, the life they had created together and he was sure his heart was moment away from bursting out of sheer love. 

“I can’t believe it.” He breathed out in awe. It had only been about a month since they had made the decision to forgo moontea, he had no idea it would happen for them this quickly. 

“With how often you take me to bed, surely this isn’t a surprise.” 

He looked almost proud at her jest and she shook her head, pulling him in for another embrace that he gladly returned, his arms holding her as if she were the most precious thing in the world and if anyone were to ask, Aemond would certainly agree. 

He kissed the top of her head and pulled back, taking her face in his hands as he looked down at her reverently.

“You have given me more than I ever could have imagined I would have.” He told her honestly. “You’ve made me the happiest man to ever live.” 

He kissed her with all the love he could, hoping it would be enough to convey every ounce of adoration he held for her. 

However, their peace didn’t last long. 

Rhaenyra and her sons would soon be arriving at King’s Landing to counter Vaemond Velaryon’s petition for the Driftmark throne.

The moment Aemond heard the news, he became reserved, building that familiar brooding wall around him, portraying that of the feared one-eyed prince the court loved to gossip about. 

The night before they were due to arrive, he had resided in their chambers, wishing to avoid the prying eyes of the court and their whispers about his bastard nephews and the likelihood of there being another duel between them that would result in bloodshed.

He heard the door of their shared chambers open and close, but his gaze remained on the flickering flames in the hearth in front of him. 

“There you are.” Her sweet voice called out, his wife taking her place at his side. “I’ve barely seen you all day.”

“I’ve been here.” He responded softly, his voice lacking its usual warmth that was always present with her. 

She watched him carefully, knowing exactly what was eating away at him, but hesitant to mention it, unsure of how he would react. The mere mention of his nephews was enough to incite his rage. 

“Do you wish to talk about it?” She asked softly.

“No.”

His voice was curt, betraying just how tormented he felt. A flare of pain lashed his scar, the sapphire in place of his eye seemingly burning, as if the thought of that Strong bastard’s imminent arrival alone could cut him like the dagger he wielded that night. 

A tense silence lingered between them, one they both hated. 

With a pained hiss, he tore his eye path off, tossing it to the side carelessly, his sharp features contorted in pain. He leaned his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands as the sapphire in his eye bloomed with pain. 

It wasn’t often the wound still caused him aggravation, but in the moments it did, he always felt like he was that young, helpless boy again. His hands shook slightly as the pain flared so deeply it was all he could do to breathe through it. 

Within seconds he felt gentle hands on his, carefully prying them from his face. He looked up to his wife sitting before him, the concern on her face stirring his emotions he tried desperately to hold back. 

He noticed the vial of ointment in her hands, the one the Maesters gave to him to use whenever his wound became unbearable. He was tense as she cradled his cheek, her thumb caressing the edge of his scar, her eyes taking in the angry looking wound. She had seen him do this for himself a few times but he had never let her do it before. 

She looked at him thoughtfully, posing a silent question to which he nodded slightly, still hesitant to let her touch what was his greatest shame, but the pain was becoming unbearable, he was left out of options. 

She dipped her finger into the ointment and carefully applied it to his eye, her own heart racing as she felt her husband was baring a piece of himself he had been adamant on hiding for so long. 

As her fingers brushed as gently as possible across his wounded eye, the cooling ointment bringing him relief immediately, he finally started to let himself relax, releasing a long breath. 

She reached out with her other hand, laying it over his own that was still clenched into a fist, beginning to trace meaningless shapes over his knuckles. Her touch soothed something in him he didn’t even know could be soothed, the simple gesture enough for him to feel comforted in a way only she could give him. He sighed loudly as he sank into his seat, the rigidity leaving him limb by limb. 

Smiling softly at the sight of him so much calmer than before, she moved to sit next to him once she was finished. Aemond was quick to close the distance between them, moving in closer to her side, taking her hand in his, eager for her touch. 

“Thank you.” He whispered, the look of reverence he sent her stirring her own emotions and she suddenly found herself on the verge of tears. She would never understand what he went through as a child, she would never understand what he felt for his nephews, but she was adamant she would be there for him in the moments he struggled. 

“You never need to thank me for this.” She assured him. 

Another heavy breath escaped him, as if his ire was leaving him with each exhale. His resentment was no match for the love his wife gave him. It would succumb to her each and every time. 

His hand roamed gently over her body, eventually finding its place on her stomach, where it stayed, pulling a small laugh from her.

“You do realize there’s no bump yet.”

Aemond just shrugged, the look of contentment on his face a far cry from the derision that had steadily remained all day. 

“It doesn’t matter. He’s still in there.”

“He?”

He seemed bashful as he looked up at his wife, a slight blush on his cheeks, as if embarrassed to admit the many nights he spent thinking about their child, imagining their son as the perfect mix of them both, of how much he already loved their child. 

“It’s just a feeling.” 

She began to picture it, Aemond cradling their son, his eyes the same vibrant blue of his father’s, his smile wide, his cheeks chubby, every bit of him absolutely perfect. 

Her own smile grew, her vision growing blurry as tears gathered in her eyes at the thought, her hormones that were now on a hair trigger since her pregnancy, coming to a head. 

“Hey,” Aemond called out in concern, reaching up to caress her cheek and she shook her head, letting out a small laugh.

“They’re happy tears.” 

He smiled and leaned in to kiss her softly. It was easy to forget the turmoil he felt, that he was soon to face the object of his anger, when he was next to his wife, their child growing within her. 

That night, he was ravenous. He had taken her with a fervor he hadn’t felt in weeks. He had been insatiable when he knew of her pregnancy, but he seemed to treat her like glass, as if she were now delicate because of the precious life that grew within her. 

His touches had always been gentle, but urgent, hungry yet loving. 

Tonight, he was starved. He fucked her as if they were newlyweds again, every touch portraying just how desperate he felt for her. 

“Aemond!” She cried out, her hands tangled in his hair, pulling hard as he brought her to yet another blissful orgasm.

He growled, burying his face in the crook of her neck, the enticing nip at her neck making her moan. His steady pace never faltered, his powerful hips crashing against hers as he chased his own end. 

Her cries turned to laughs, delirious with pleasure. 

“I love you.” She breathed out and screamed as his pace became quicker, his thrusts becoming harsher, more frantic as he quickly approached his high. 

“Say it again.” He growled, now hovering over her as he gazed down at the beauty beneath him, his eye and the striking sapphire a sight that left her shivering under his tight grip.

“I love you.” She repeated, hoping he believed every word, hoping he knew just how much she cherished him, how much he meant to her. “You are the only man I’ve ever loved, the only man I’ll ever love for the rest of my life.”

His jaw clenched, his eye squeezing shut as the sight of her below him, writhing in pleasure, was just too much to handle. He was powerless against her. 

His thrusts became relentless, the bed shaking beneath them with every one of his brutal strokes. 

He breathed harshly, feeling as though flames were alight in his veins. 

“Again.” He commanded roughly. 

She shivered at the commanding edge of his voice, her toes curling as she felt sparks ignite within her. 

“I love you, more than anything.” 

Her breathless words were his undoing. He shouted a curse and groaned loudly, his arms feeling weak as he practically fell over her, never stopping his movements, his cock thrusting into her almost violently as he came, his body shaking against hers. 

She gasped at the feeling of him spilling inside her, her arms wrapping tighter around him, her head thrown back as she cried out, his name falling from her lips in a chant, as if he were a deity she prayed to for salvation. 

“I love you.” She whispered breathlessly and began to laugh tiredly as he planted kisses over the expanse of her neck, making his way upwards until he met her lips, kissing her soundly, as if she were the very air he breathed. 

“I love you.” He panted in a blissful daze. 

By the next morning, every good feeling Aemond had coveted the night before had dissipated like smoke in the wind. 

He woke early and spared his sleeping wife a kiss to the forehead before heading to the training yard where he spent the rest of the morning, endlessly sparring with Ser Criston and any other worthy opponent available when the knight needed a break from his endless plights. 

Those that dared to step up were left bloody and bruised in a matter of minutes. 

Aemond was wound tightly, his entire being ready to snap as he laid his eye on his nephews for the first time in years. The fury that had been buried deeply within him for years bubbled to the surface with one look at the brown haired bastards. 

The sapphire in place of his eye burned as his glare remained steady on them. 

He preened inwardly as they cowered under his eye. To know they couldn’t meet his gaze brought him more satisfaction than he had expected. He grabbed his sword and gestured to Ser Criston to get into position.

He fought with determination as if he were in actual battle, as if his life was truly threatened and every movement dictated his survival. With every powerful strike of his sword against Criston’s shield, he felt vindicated, as though the years of shame that had come from the bullying he endured from his own brother and nephews stripped off layer by layer with each powerful swing of his weapon. 

His eye drifted to his nephews, a sickly satisfied smirk growing at the sight of their intimidation. 

They held no power over him now. He had made sure of it. 

“Husband.” 

Her voice cut through the haze of victory he had been lavishing in. He turned on his heel, confusion overtaking him as he saw his wife standing in the training yard. He dropped his sword and rushed over to her side. 

“What are you doing down here? Is everything alright?”

She didn’t often make her way down into the training yards and with her current state, he couldn’t help but fret over her every minute of the day he was with her.

“I wanted to make sure you weren’t killing yourself before the petition.”

He sighed heavily. He didn’t know if he loved or hated how easily his wife could read him. She took his hand and he let her guide him out of the yard. 

“You’ve been here for hours, I think you’ve earned yourself a break.” 

He opened his mouth to retort, but she stopped him with a knowing look. 

“Based on the looks on your nephews face’s I think you’ve proven everything you needed to prove.”

The smirk that grew on his lips should have worried her, but she couldn’t find it in herself to feel any concern for the ire he felt for his nephews. It was more than justified, she just hoped it would be enough, that their visit to the Keep wouldn’t result in any more bloodshed. 

Aemond looked back into the training yard, as if hesitant to leave the glory he’d managed to carve out for himself, for the retribution he felt he had finally earned, no matter how slight it was, but her hand in his forced him back to her in an instant. 

“Don’t let them get to you. They hold no power over you.” She told him softly and he let out a long breath, allowing the hatred that had been clouding him all day roll over him like dark thunder clouds making way for the shining sun to warm up the earth after a vicious storm. 

His hand remained steadily in hers, as if needing her like a lifeline in tumultuous waves. She was the only thing that kept him tethered to himself, that kept him from spiraling into his anger. 

She could see how tense he was and if it were any other day, if they didn’t have royal duties to attend to, she would’ve been content to keep him in their chambers and let him use her to both of their delights until he was spent, too exhausted to feel any anger at all. 

She didn’t like to see him in this state. It was so unlike the sweet boy that had been by her side for years. She didn’t like what her nephews had created in him the night he claimed Vhagar. 

~~

The petition unfolded as she expected. While King Viserys’ presence had been a surprise, Vaemond’s demise certainly wasn’t, especially after the accusations he had spouted to Princess Rhaenyra and her sons. 

Aemond had tugged on her arm, instinctively pulling her behind him as Daemon brought his sword down upon the man. 

He had shielded her from the violent display, something she had been grateful for. With the pregnancy hormones swirling within her, she most often felt nauseous around anything that wasn’t plain bread. The sight of Vaemond’s severed head would’ve been enough to put her off eating for the rest of her life. 

As the court reacted in a frenzy to the brutal display, Aemond had placed his hand on her stomach, his eye looking her over carefully, ready to rush her out of the room at the slightest hint of nausea. 

She gripped his hand and nodded to his silent question, assuring him she was ok, that she wasn’t about to spill her guts in front of everyone, though the darkened look in his eye remained. Who it was targeted at, she wasn’t quite sure. 

Neither one of them had been looking forward to the family dinner Viserys was adamant on hosting. It was as if he was completely oblivious to the tension in the family as he forced them in proximity to each other. 

Aemond had barely spoken a word as they readied themselves for dinner. He was tense, his face drawn tightly, as if he expected the worst to unfold, as if he were facing enemies on a battlefield and not a simple dinner with his family. 

“We don’t have to attend.” She told him, wishing she could protect him from the torment he felt in the face of his nephews. 

He didn’t spare a look to her, every inch of him was shrouded in anger, barely contained fury that he couldn’t shake. He didn’t seem like the man she married at that moment. 

“Why wouldn’t I attend?” He asked, as if his torment wasn’t visible, as if she wasn’t aware of the burning anger he couldn’t shake, the vitriol he experienced as a child coming back to the forefront of his mind, reminding him of the slights that he had been faced with. 

“Aemond,” She started softly. “No one expects you to forgive them.” 

He scoffed, shaking his head, his expression filled with bitter irritation. 

“No one expects me to hold any anger at all.” 

She frowned deeply and approached him slowly, eyeing him carefully. She had never felt so out of depth when it came to her husband but she would be damned if she left him to suffer alone.

“We don’t have to go.”

He clenched his jaw, his eye holding a faraway look, signaling he was deep in thought. 

She reached out, cupping his face in his hands, startling him out of his reverie that was filled with nothing but hatred. 

“You just tell me and we’ll leave. I’ll make an excuse and we can go without any question.”

Her words, her ability to show him she was staunchly in his corner, a feeling no one else had ever assured him of, disarmed him completely. There was one thing his nephews would never take from him, the love he felt from his wife stood the test of time, standing strongly against any other force that dared to weaken him. His eye softened, his hand reaching out to grasp her arm, his fingers gently caressing her skin. 

“What have I done to deserve you?” He whispered, his voice cloaked with reverence, as if surprised by the love she held for him. 

She frowned, hating when he spoke as if he didn’t deserve the love she showed him, as if it was some kind of gift he wasn’t worthy of coveting. 

“You read to me my second day here.” She answered simply, reminding him of the beginning of it all, when they were nothing more than two wonderstruck children. 

He exhaled deeply, desperately wanting to hold onto that feeling that always surrounded him when he thought of their childhood together, like warmth embracing him soundly. 

It was a feeling he kept close to him as they walked to the dining hall, though he knew it was futile. The feeling would be gone, shielded in the depths of him in the face of his family.

As they stepped into the hall, Aemond left her side to grab her a drink from the servers, allowing her to step towards Rhaena and Baela, greeting them politely. Rhaena was quick to give her a smile, while Baela only had distrustful eyes to throw in her direction. 

Her name was called and she turned to see Rhaenyra approaching her with a warm smile. 

She smiled and embraced the Princess slightly awkwardly. She had fond memories of the woman growing up, especially in times when she was desperately missing her own mother, but it had been years since she had seen her and knowing her actions on the night Aemond’s eye had been taken had irrevocably changed her view of the woman since.

“It’s good to see you again, Dear.” Rhaenyra smiled warmly at her. “Where is your father, I was hoping to say hello.”

“He’s at Ixtal. He was missing my mother and decided to take a short visit.” 

“You didn’t join him?”

She felt her cheeks heat at the question and she couldn’t help but smile. 

“I would, but I wasn’t exactly in a good state to travel.” She explained and placed her hand on her stomach exaggeratedly. 

Rhaenyra’s eyes widened and she beamed a smile, laughing happily. 

“That is wonderful news.” The Princess congratulated. “You’re going to be a wonderful mother.” 

A hand on the small of her back made her look up to see her husband now at her side, his steely eye locked onto his half-sister whose smile faltered at his sudden presence. She cleared her throat, her demeanor now tense as she nodded politely in greeting.

Rhaenyra left their side quickly, leaving her to wonder just how deeply one family could fracture. She couldn’t imagine ever greeting her brothers in that manner. She couldn’t imagine hating the ones she shared blood with. 

Letting out a long breath, knowing she was in for an eventful night, she turned to Aemond, placing her hand on his arm that was stiff, as if he wouldn't allow himself to relax or even take a breath in their presence. 

They all took their seats, the tension in the room strangling as King Viserys was carried in. 

She held back a grimace at the sight of the decrepit King. He was a far cry from the man she had met all those years ago, far from the man who was a dear friend to her father. 

The awkward aura in the room remained steadfast, with most avoiding eye contact with each other. Even Viserys’ heartened speech about family and the uniting of the house of the dragon did little to mend the obvious rift in the family.

Until Rhaenyra stood. She was shocked to hear her speak such lovely words about the Queen and for the Queen to return the sentiment. 

Their apparent truce for the time being broke the tension, though her husband at her side remained tense, his lone eye unflinchingly cold as he regarded his distant family. 

Her eyes kept circling back to him, as if waiting for the moment he would strike. She wondered when the wood of the chair under his white-knuckled grip would splinter. She wondered when the night would take an irredeemable turn.

She didn’t even get to enjoy Helaena’s thinly veiled jab towards Aegon in her toast, she was too worried about her husband to pay attention to the others around her. 

When the music began, signaling the end of the toasts, she leaned back in her seat, giving her husband a small encouraging smile, anticipating that they had made it through the worst the night had to offer. 

Aemond remained stiff as stone, his posture straight and rigid. She noticed his eye darken further, his gaze locked past her and she turned, her brows furrowing slightly as Jacaerys stepped towards her, a hopeful smile on his face.

“Would you care to dance, Princess?” He asked, offering her his hand. 

She stared at his hand for a long second, contemplating her choices. With the entirety of the table watching the exchange, she knew she had little choice but to accept his offer. 

She spared a brief glance to her husband beside her and the fury that blazed in his lone eye would have melted the wall in the great north. With a heavy breath, she gingerly took Jace’s hand and stood from her seat, allowing him to guide her away from the table.

Her husband’s gaze practically burned at her back. 

Aemond watched with barely contained rage as the bastard danced with his wife. His teeth grinded together so harshly it was a wonder they didn’t crack. He briefly contemplated what the repercussions would be if he murdered the Strong bastard where he stood. 

The fire within him was simmering, ready to unleash as he watched another man touch his wife. The smile on the bastard’s face left Aemond wondering whether he should slit his throat, dismember him, or let Vhagar turn him to ash. 

None of the choices seemed punishment enough. 

As Jace twirled her, her eyes briefly met Aemond’s and her stomach twisted at his expression. She knew tonight wouldn’t end peacefully. 

She flinched slightly as Jace quickly spun her back into his arms, causing her to almost crash into his chest, forcing her much closer to him than she felt was necessary. She leaned back to gain some distance, hoping it wasn’t noticeable, hoping her husband hadn’t been able to tell she had been uncomfortable for a mere second.

Jace would be dead and buried before the sun rose if that were the case. 

“I have to admit, I was quite shocked when I heard the news of your wedding.” Jace suddenly spoke, keeping his voice low so only she would hear. 

“What was so shocking?”

“I didn’t expect you to end up with someone like him.”

“Someone like him? You mean my oldest friend?” She questioned, disdain creeping through her tone, her defenses raised, which didn’t allow her the wherewithal to speak in a friendly manner. 

Jace sighed, as if wanting to dispute the simple fact that she and Aemond had been close for years before marriage was even a thought in either of their heads. 

“You two are very different.” He said with a slight shrug. “I pictured you with someone more… warm, romantic even.” 

“I assure you, my prince, my husband is plenty romantic. You do not need to worry yourself about my marriage.” She smiled stiffly. 

Jace, seeming to sense her attitude, remained silent for the remainder of the dance. As the song ended, she politely curtsied and was walking back to the table before he could rise from his bow. 

The tension didn’t dissipate as she took her seat at her husband’s side once more. If anything, the fury radiating from the man beside her only set her more on edge. Aemond leaned into her, making her shoulders tense both in apprehension and desire. 

“If he touches you again, I will break every bone in his body.” Aemond hissed in her ear, smirking delightedly at the shiver she repressed. 

She looked up at him, his fury now morphed into an insatiable hunger only she could tame. She knew she would be in for a long night. 

She was just thankful he seemed to be feeling anything other than murderous rage. 

But it did not last long. 

She had been speaking quietly to Helaena, Aemond’s hand in hers, his thumb caressing over her knuckles a steady comfort when he suddenly pulled away. 

She barely had time to look over at her husband before he was bolting out of his chair. His fist that slammed on the table made her flinch in surprise, her wide eyes looking up at him in confusion.

“Final tribute.” 

Her heart raced wildly in her chest, her gaze wandering around the table, wondering what could have possibly stoked his fury. It wasn’t until she saw the sheepish guilt that permeated with fear on Lucerys’ expression that she began to understand. 

“To the health of my nephews. Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise… strong.”

She felt her breath hitch in her throat, her wide eyed gaze meeting Alicent’s for a brief moment, his mother looking equally as petrified for what was to unfold. 

“Let us drain our cups to these three Strong boys.”

She sent her husband a pleading look, but it was lost on him, his gaze, full of hatred, cemented on his nephews. 

“I dare you to say that again.”

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

She gasped, her hand covering her mouth as Jace landed a punch to Aemond’s cheek. The room erupted in chaos. She could watch with disappointment as her husband pushed his nephew to the ground, as Aegon joined in and shoved Lucerys against the table. 

Helaena stood from her seat and rushed towards her, her face shrouded in fear. She sighed and stood from her seat, wrapping her arm around her friend who seemed disturbed by the rift tearing in her family before her. 

“It’s alright.” She assured her. 

Across the room, Rhaenyra’s eyes bored into hers, pleading, as if she had any control over her husband’s ire. She sent her an apologetic look and bowed her head, wishing Aemond had taken up her offer to avoid the dinner altogether. 

The room came to a standstill, the fighting men separated, a room divided by two factions. 

Aemond glared at his uncle who looked at him as if disappointed, as if he were out of line to enact revenge for the slight against him. 

He grit his teeth and in a quick motion, swallowed the wine left in his cup before turning back to the table. He avoided looking at his wife as he grabbed her hand, pulling her along with him as he stormed out of the room.

Her feet moved quickly to keep up with his quick pace, her heart in her throat as he led them through the halls.

Once they were back in their chambers, her eyes seldom left him, watching every one of his movements carefully, noticing how highly strung he still was, how stiffly he moved as paced for a moment before he finally took a seat on the edge of the bed. 

His anger wouldn’t be leaving him easily. 

“Are you alright?”

He stayed quiet for a long moment, gazing ahead blankly, the burning fury that simmered in his veins leaving him practically trembling, the desire to wreak havoc not yet dissipating. 

Every part of him was wrought with tension, his mind a mess of thoughts, though his anger was the easiest to make sense of. 

“Don’t try to convince me that what I did was wrong.” He spoke bitterly.

“I won’t.” 

His jaw clenched, the events of the last few minutes running through his head on a loop, keeping him in the state of rage that made him shake, that made his hands twitch, wishing he had done more, wishing he could hurt that bastard the way he had been hurt all those years ago.

The thought briefly startled him. It was a thought he used to have frequently, when the rage in his heart was so new he didn’t know what to do with it. It was a thought he hadn’t focused on since being with her. 

The revelation had an unfamiliar upset stirring within him.

“I should sleep in my old chambers tonight.” He muttered tersely. 

The bitter anger burned within him, he felt on the edge of cracking and he would hate himself if he ever took it out on her, his sweet wife. He felt he needed to be far away from her to avoid darkening her with his presence.

“What?”

The sadness in her voice almost broke him. He closed his eye and bowed his head, he couldn’t bear to see the look on her face. 

“I don’t want you to see me like this.” 

It was quiet for a long moment, his words lingering in the room like an ominous death rattle that signaled the bitter end after a long, torturous fight. 

But she refused to let him sink into his despair. 

He flinched as she stepped before him, catching his gaze. Her hands smoothed out the doublet he wore, roaming upwards to brush the hair off his shoulders and gently caressing his neck as she reached up to hold his jaw affectionately. 

He let out a deep breath, the tension slowly but surely easing from him in waves under her touch. 

“I am not letting you feel this alone.” She told him, her voice soft yet stern, letting him know there was no way he would change her mind about this, that nothing could force her to accept his absence from her side. 

“I don’t seem to recognize myself around them.”

His whispered confession hit her harder than she had expected and she felt her breath hitch in her throat, her own emotions rising to the surface at the sight of him so tormented. 

“You can never undo what they took from you.” She began slowly, her voice wavering slightly. “I’ll never understand what you’ve been through. I wish I could and I’m so sorry I don’t, but you cannot let this consume you.”

His face remained a mask of torment, his derision and anger battling against the exhaustion that permeated his bitterness, that left him feeling weak in the aftermath of his rage. 

She gently guided him to tilt his head upward so she could look at him, so he could see her and the resolution on her face and understand her honesty.

“You are more than your eye. You are more than the rage you feel when you look at them. You are more than them.”

He almost shuddered under her hands, the words striking him with force as though they were dealt with a physical hit. 

“I see you, the real you. The one I fell in love with, my sweet husband, the father of my child.” 

With that, she grabbed his hand to place it over her stomach and his expression changed in an instant, the anger gone as he caressed where his child grew. 

He leaned forward, his forehead falling to rest against her chest, his arms circling her waist. He spread his legs, allowing her to step closer to him, her own arms wrapping around his shoulders, holding him tightly. 

She ran her fingers through his hair, the soft motions pulling a soft sound from deep within him, his rigid body falling lax against her. 

As she hugged him tightly she felt her eyes begin to sting with tears. She wished she could pull the agony from him, untangle the strings of rage that wound him so tightly. 

She wished she could’ve gone back in time and held tighter to the wounded boy who hid his despair from her for so long. 

~~

The girls are fightinggg

And the angst is coming xx

~~

Tag List:

@jacaeryslover @allsouls-emma @lianna75 @emoxio @noneedtosearch @watashiwasun @guacam011y @darlingisntit @trickycarrot89-blog @stcrrjoon @knyam @bettysexile @marysucks-blog @lovelyteenagebeard @anehkael @darktrashsoulbear @violetiss3lfish @hueanhdang @mamawiggers1980 @azaleapotterblack @littlestarfighter03 @discofairysworld @ner-dee

[monzamash]

★ bargain bin — lando norris

coming clean part II lando norris x you —no warnings, just angst (the spice will be back next time, i promise) read part I here requested by anon; "sex while there is the background noise of a rainstorm outside"

“you can only come in if you promise we’re not going to fight.”

lando nodded, eyes soft. he looked exhausted, like he hadn't slept in days. you didn't know that he had only flown home from a triple header yesterday, you swore once the break up happened that you wouldn't worry about him anymore. but of course you did, secretly checking the race results, betrayed by your curiosity.

“the last thing i want is to fight with you,” he replied, barely above a whisper as you took a step to the side and allowed him into your apartment. 

he was dripping wet from the storm outside, immediately ditching the bomber jacket hanging from his shoulders and kicking off the boots covered in your freshly cut lawn. he was apologetic about bringing the rain into your quaint apartment — he felt safer here than in his own place in monaco. he hated it there now, without you, swearing up and down that nothing but resentment and pain lived in those hallowed walls. 

seeing him in the flesh felt different to what you expected. your heart clenched as he leaned against your couch, hands stuffed into his hoodie and dishevelled curls sweeping across his furrowed forehead. being in the same room for the first time in months changed everything, all the fears you’d built up in your mind melted away and the deep regret of letting go of someone so kind and generous churned in your stomach. 

“you look tired, lan.” 

the nickname caught his attention, eyes locking in on your expression to see how genuine you were — hoping to god you were giving him the same look you gave when you were together. 

“i don’t even know how i managed to drive over here to be honest — just can’t sleep anymore,” lando grumbled, feet shuffling on your carpet. 

“then we should go to bed…” 

his eyes widened in surprise at your suggestion, “wha- are you… are you sure?” 

you nodded and reached out for his hand, “come on.” 

lando followed closely behind, heart thumping in his chest as you closed the bedroom door and walked to your closet, “i still have some of your clothes here,” you whispered, handing him a baggy shirt and a pair of shorts.

“thank you…” he managed to squeak out, tears slightly forming in his eyes, “you always look after me better than anyone else.” 

“i know you’d do the same for me if i was struggling,” you stated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world as you exited the bathroom in your pyjamas. 

lando sighed and held his tongue. all he wanted to do was tell you how beautiful you looked and how much he appreciated your caring nature. instead, he crawled into bed beside you and rested his weary head on the pillow. the sound of the thundering storm outside your window would have been enough to lull him to sleep, especially with the warmth of your body so close to his. but he didn’t want to sleep, not with so many thoughts swirling around his busy mind.

“how have you been?” he asked, causing you to look over at him with a chuckle.

“i thought you were tired…”

lando shrugged and attempted to disguise his small smile, “i was but like i said in my text — i miss you a lot. miss talking to you and hearing your voice…”

“sounds like you’re down bad.”

“so bad.” he quipped back, shuffling closer to you like a magnet. 

you shook your head and turned onto your side to face him completely, “i miss you too.” 

“yeah?” he almost sounded shocked, playfully so but there was a hint of genuine scepticism in his cracking voice.

“yeah. miss a lot of things about you…”

“like what?” he taunted. 

“just shut up and kiss me, you dork.”

lando didn’t need to be told twice as he closed the small space between you, scooping your waist into his arms and holding you tight. your noses bumped before your lips made contact, making your both giggle as he kissed you into the mountain of pillows.

a loud crack of lightning outside your window made you jump, instinctively pulling him even closer than humanely possible as his lips travelled down your neck — the rumbling of thunder murmured in sync with your heart beat. it felt like the first time you’d met all those years ago, so young and stupidly in love. 

“i love being with you during storms like this… makes me feel safe.”

“i’ve got you and i’m not going anywhere.” he reassured sweetly in a whisper.  you sighed in relief, relaxing into his touch while bringing his face up to yours with shaky hands. there was a nervous surge of energy when you looked into his sparkling green eyes, slightly darkened by the dimly lit room— you believed every word he had said that night and sealed it with a kiss, slowly melting into the covers as he made you feel like you were the only woman in the world.

a/n — very rarely does this happen but the spice would not come to me for this one. i feel like the vibe just felt different and honestly, i don't know how to feel about it hahaha i realised a long time ago that writing angst doesn't come naturally even though i'm a moody bitch - maybe it's because writing is my escapism lol #end of (f1) season sale!! —see what other customers are buying ✨

[edenesth]

Scarlet Requiem

Pairing: emperor!Baekhyun x empress!reader

AU: historical au (Goryeo era)

Word Count: 4k

Summary: In his reign, Baekhyun strived to be a virtuous emperor, all for the sake of his kind-hearted empress, steadfastly resisting the temptations of power that had corrupted those before him. He held onto the belief that this was the key to securing her eternal presence by his side. Yet, he learned, to his heartbreak, that this very resolve would lead to the cruellest loss of all.

Genre: heavy angst

Trigger Warnings: major character death, violence, gore, lots of blood

MAIN MASTERLIST

"Capture that demon before she flees!"

Her hands trembled as she gazed at her reflection in the ornate gold mirror. Once healthy skin now bore a sickly pallor, brown eyes turned crimson, tears staining her cheeks red. Even her jet-black hair had transformed to snowy white. Confusion and fear gripped her as she struggled to comprehend the inexplicable transformation.

As guards roughly seized her arms, she pleaded, "No, please! I've done nothing wrong! I don't understand any of this!"

"Of course, you'd deny it, Your Imperial Majesty," sneered the Minister of Rites, one of many who had urged her husband, the emperor, to accept their daughters as concubines. "Little did you know, those potions you received from the royal healer for the past month were meant to reveal your true nature by shedding your human guise."

Horror pierced her heart as realisation dawned. The tonics meant to maintain her health had been a ruse. She had been poisoned, it explained the sudden and alarming changes in her body and health.

"You," she whispered, the weight of the truth settling heavily upon her. "It was all you."

She was not naive; she understood the ministers' discontent with her influence over Baekhyun throughout his reign. Their persistent attempts to sway him, offering their daughters as concubines to bolster their own power and threaten her position, had not escaped her notice. Their frustration must have reached its zenith when her husband adamantly refused their advances, steadfast in his commitment to her as his one and only empress.

"Hm? I'm not sure I understand what you're implying," the man smirked, his deceptive tone belying his words. "We've long suspected there was more to you, Your Imperial Majesty. It appears you're indeed a demon, effortlessly manipulating the emperor. Surely a man of his stature would desire more than one woman by his side?"

Struggling against the guards' grasp, she retorted weakly, "You vile cowards. You'll rue the day my husband learns of this..."

The pieces of the puzzle fell into place, revealing their sinister plot. They had bided their time, seizing the perfect opportunity amidst the chaos of war. With Baekhyun, the virtuous emperor she had wished him to be, leading the army, they saw their chance to poison her, framing her as a demon to eradicate her while he was away.

"Or perhaps we'll witness the rise of the ambitious emperor we've long awaited. He will finally be able to reach his full potential without you here obstructing his path," he sneered, gesturing towards the approaching healer with another bowl of poison. "Just comply and drink your tonic, Your Imperial Majesty. Your suffering will soon end, and our nation will thrive under the rule of a new emperor, liberated from your naive ideals."

As the sinister men tightened their grip, she sobbed in agony, the relentless headache from the past month resurfacing with a vengeance. Each touch felt like a dagger through her skull, each word a cruel reminder of her plight.

With an apologetic bow of his head, the healer cupped her jaw, his hands trembling as he forced the bowl of poison towards her lips. "Forgive me, Your Imperial Majesty," he whispered, his voice trembling with remorse. "This will be the last one, I promise."

She gagged as the bitter liquid slid down her throat, burning with each swallow. Crimson tears streamed down her white face as she choked on the vile concoction, feeling her strength wane with each passing moment. In that desperate moment, all she could do was pray for salvation from the nightmare consuming her.

As the healer finally released his hold, she felt despair engulf her. The bitter poison settled within her damaged insides, coursing through her veins like a silent killer, slowly consuming her from within.

"It is done, my lord. The empress will not survive through the night," the healer declared, his voice carrying a finality that chilled her to the bone.

The minister's grin widened with satisfaction. "Excellent. Arrange for someone to confirm her death by dawn. Let her enjoy her final moments in the comforts of her own chambers. His Imperial Majesty will surely be grateful we've rid him of his treacherous demon of a wife upon his return from war."

Laying limply in the centre of her grand chambers, the very space she had once despised before ascending to empress, memories flooded her mind. She recalled the scepticism that clouded her heart when she first found herself falling for the crown prince of the nation. After all, history had taught her that no happy endings awaited the women who loved emperors. But Baekhyun was different—he was loving, caring, and considerate, going to great lengths to prove his devotion to her.

He swore never to take concubines, to resist the allure of power, and to remain hers, and hers alone. Despite the admiration of the entire nation, he remained committed to prioritising her above all else, even if it meant drawing the ire of his ministers and officials. Their accusations of his partiality towards his empress over his nation only served to strengthen his resolve, his unwavering loyalty to her.

But now, as she lay weakened by poison, she realised the tragic irony of his goodness. It was his very commitment to righteousness that led him to the battlefield, refusing to let his men fight in his stead. And it was this decision that ultimately sealed their fate, leaving her to face the consequences of his noble intentions.

As the darkness closed in around her, she couldn't help but wonder how Baekhyun would react upon returning to find her lifeless form in this state. Would he succumb to the poisonous words of his ministers, believing their accusations that she had been a demon all along? Would he entertain the notion that she had bewitched him, clouding his judgement and leading him astray?

Or would he remain firm in his loyalty, unwavering in his belief that this was nothing more than a cruel ploy to rid him of her for good? In the depths of her fading consciousness, she desperately clung to the hope that he would see through the lies, that his love for her would prevail over doubt.

On the brink of death, she yearned to trust in his endless devotion to her, to believe that he would never doubt the love they shared. It was a fragile hope, but in that moment, it was all she had to cling to as she slipped further into the darkness, awaiting the inevitable arrival of dawn and the fate it would eventually bring.

"Forgive me for not being strong enough, Baek," she whispered into the stillness of the chamber, her voice barely a breath against the heavy silence. "Please don't blame yourself for any of this."

As the darkness threatened to swallow her entirely, she couldn't help but reflect on the warnings of history, the cautionary tales of women who loved emperors, only to meet tragic ends. Once again, it seemed, she had fallen victim to the same fate.

Her vision blurred with crimson tears as memories flooded her mind—moments shared with Baekhyun before he departed for battle, blissfully unaware that they would be their last. Each memory stung with bittersweet intensity, a painful reminder of what could have been, had fate been kinder.

As her life ebbed away, flashes of cherished moments with him flickered through her mind like scattered stars in the night sky.

Wrapped in the warmth of silk sheets, doubts clouded her mind one morning, questioning her husband's resolve to remain faithful amidst the pressures of his position.

"Would you truly refuse to take any concubines, Baek?" she inquired, her voice laced with uncertainty. "You're aware that the ministers and officials desire it, and perhaps even the citizens of our nation. For all we know, the people might have grown weary of this same dull empress who has yet to bear you an heir."

He drew her close, pulling the silk sheets higher to shield her bare form from the chill seeping through the open windows. Pressing a tender kiss upon her head, he smiled reassuringly. "Never, my love. I do not care for their political machinations. I won't forsake my vow to you. You will remain my only wife, that is final. I did not ask to be emperor, the role was thrust upon me. Now that I am here, they should at least be grateful I am fulfilling my general duties."

She chuckled, nestling into the crook of his neck as he added, "Besides, if the ministers and officials are so displeased, they could just dismiss me. That would be even better; we could live in a quiet little village, just as we've always dreamed."

In another memory, standing before her reflection, plagued by insecurities instilled by the scheming ministers, his unwavering admiration melted her fears away.

"You look beautiful, my empress. You always do," he reassured, approaching from behind to envelop her in his arms.

"Not as beautiful as those young maidens, I fear. I am old," she confessed, feeling a twinge of self-consciousness after witnessing the ministers' attempts to seduce the emperor with their daughters.

Baekhyun gently turned her to face him. "If you're old, then I must be ancient," he teased. "I believe it's only fitting that I am with someone my age, and that's you, my empress. I have no interest in marrying children or anyone else for that matter; I am a taken man. Don't you dare compare yourself to anyone else again, you hear me? You're the most beautiful woman in my eyes, and that's all that matters."

In the final embrace before he departed for war, hearts heavy with the uncertainty of his return, they clung to each other.

"I will be back before you know it, my love. You'll wait for me, won't you?" her husband murmured against her neck, his arms tightening around her.

"Where else would I go, you idiot? Of course, I'll be waiting right here," she retorted, tightening her hold around his shoulders.

Amidst tears and laughter, he leaned in to kiss her deeply, pressing his lips against her soft ones over and over again to imprint the sensation into memory.

"I love you, my empress," Baekhyun whispered against her lips before pulling away, his eyes full of love and determination.

In the quiet of her chamber, she found solace in the fleeting recollections, clinging to them as the darkness threatened to consume her entirely. And as the crimson tears clouded her eyes once more, she resigned herself to the inevitable, silently bidding farewell to the life she once knew.

"I love you too, my emperor."

"I will not ask again, where is she?!" the emperor's voice thundered through the throne room as he stormed back into the palace, abandoning the battle upon learning the shocking revelation. According to the Minister of Rites in his letter, the empress had been discovered to be a demon all along, concealing her true nature under human skin to manipulate him and bend him to her will.

The eunuch panicked and fell to his knees. "Th-the empress is confined to her grand chambers, Your Imperial Majesty!"

Without uttering another word, Baekhyun stormed over immediately, his heart thumping loudly against his chest as fury overtook his being. Betrayal flooded his veins; he was seething with anger.

"You will regret lying to me," he growled under his breath, his vision zeroing in on the path towards her chambers, the place he frequented more than his own. "You will regret deceiving me."

Upon reaching the entrance of her chambers, he turned to the eunuch. "Gather all the ministers and officials who played a part in discovering the empress as what they claimed her to be in the throne room. I wish to speak with them soon."

"Yes, Your Imperial Majesty," the eunuch hurriedly replied before darting off to carry out his orders. Baekhyun steadied his breaths, his hand resting on the door as he prepared to face her once more. Under his breath, he vowed, "I swear, you will all regret it. How dare you accuse my wife of being what you are—demons."

I'm here now, my love.

Stepping into the familiar room, the emperor's heart raced with anxiety as he mulled over a perfect apology. He needed to express his deep remorse for not being there when she needed him the most, for failing to shield her from the treachery of those vultures. Reflecting on his actions, he realised he should have never left her behind. In his rush to leave for war, he had neglected to arrange proper protection for her. In hindsight, he understood that he should have never left her side in the first place.

Determined to make amends, he vowed to do better. He resolved to never again allow those ministers or officials the opportunity to torment her in his absence again. From now on, he would be her shield, her staunch protector, and her unending support.

But it might be too late for any of that.

His steps faltered, his breath caught in his chest, and his heart skipped a beat as he beheld the sight before his eyes. The sword in his hands slipped, clanging loudly as it hit the ground, and he sank to his knees in disbelief at the last thing he expected to see.

His shock deepened as he took in his wife's unrecognisable appearance. Crawling towards her limp form on the ground, he pulled her into his arms, his voice trembling with anguish. The horror settled within him like a heavy weight as he tried to imagine what atrocities these monsters had dared inflict upon her while he was gone. His mind raced with images of torture and torment, each one more gruesome than the last.

"Oh god, what have they done to you?" he whispered, his heart fracturing into a million shards as he struggled to comprehend her pale skin, her white hair, and the blood-like tears staining her cheeks. With shaking hands, he gently cupped her cold cheek, his fingers tracing the contours of her face as if seeking reassurance that she was still there, still his beloved wife.

"Please wake up, my love. This isn't funny, stop scaring me," he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. "You promised to wait for me. You promised..." His words trailed off into a broken sob as he refused to accept anything but the truth, shaking his head in denial even as he searched desperately for a pulse, even when she remained unresponsive.

"No, no, no... this can't be real. It can't be," he murmured, his mind reeling with the unimaginable horror of what he had found.

Despair and regret enveloped him as he sobbed painfully, holding her lifeless body tightly against his chest. The realisation that she was truly gone, that her final moments were spent alone in the very room she despised just to be with him, weighed heavily on his heart. He grappled with the bitter truth that he had failed her, just as she had feared when she hesitated to be with him.

Gradually, his sorrow gave way to seething rage as he recalled the faces of the ministers and officials responsible for this atrocity. They had callously taken her life, foolishly believing he would be deceived by their feeble attempt to frame her. With trembling hands, he picked up a shard of the shattered bowl nearby and brought it to his nose, recognising the metallic scent of mercury.

Suddenly, everything clicked into place.

They had poisoned her with lethal doses of mercury, causing a myriad of symptoms—tremors, headaches, muscle weakness, kidney damage, and breathing difficulties. And the deliberate administration of such high doses to turn her hair white revealed their sinister intent from the outset.

Just how much had they fed her? It was evident they had intended to kill her from the start. Anguish and fury surged within him as he vowed to make them pay.

Gently caressing her cold cheek, he leaned in to kiss her unmoving lips, his own trembling against hers. He blamed himself for everything that had transpired. Perhaps if she hadn't been with him, she would have lived a better life—a normal life with a normal man. She wouldn't have to endure such a painful and cruel death.

It was all because of him.

Regret hung heavy in his heart, but dwelling on what could have been served no purpose.

"I'm so sorry, my wife," he whispered, his voice thick with grief. "Just hold on a bit longer, alright? I'll join you soon, but first, I'll make those bastards pay. Wait for me—I won't let you face this alone. Not again."

With resolve hardening in his heart, he retrieved his sword and sheathed it once more before lifting her lifeless form into his arms. Like a man burdened by death itself, he trudged towards the throne room where justice awaited. Kicking the doors open with a forceful thrust of his leg, he was met with a sea of horrified expressions from the ministers and officials. Clearly, they hadn't anticipated the emperor's dramatic entrance, cradling his beloved empress in his arms.

Ignoring their shocked gazes, he strode past them, his eyes fixed on the throne at the far end of the room. With careful tenderness, he laid his wife down upon the ornate seat, arranging her robes and ensuring her comfort as though she were merely sleeping. Pressing a solemn kiss upon her cold forehead, he turned to face the assembled council, their unease palpable in the air.

The guilty culprits remained frozen in their places, uncertain of what awaited them.

As the emperor's gaze swept over them, the ministers and officials for the first time felt a cold shiver of fear trickle down their spines. His expression was unreadable, his appearance wild and dishevelled compared to his usual polished demeanour. Specks of blood and dirt stained his robes and skin, his hair a tangled mess, half tied up in a disarray that mirrored the chaos within him.

Gone was the warm smile that often graced his features; instead, a slow, unsettling grin crept across his face.

"My dearest ministers and officials," he began, his voice low and laced with an eerie calmness. "Your message has been received loud and clear. I hope you're satisfied now that you've succeeded in eradicating the empress, as you so desperately desired. I've given it some thought, and perhaps... you were all right."

The Minister of Rites, attempting to feign nonchalance, cleared his throat. "A-about what, Your Imperial Majesty?" he stammered.

Baekhyun's eyes gleamed with a frightening intensity as he smirked, his demeanour bordering on madness. "About what this nation truly needs," he replied, his voice carrying a chilling edge.

"Not a good emperor, but a mad one."

Without giving the men before him time to register his words, all Baekhyun saw was red. In a split second, he unsheathed his sword and transformed into a bloodthirsty animal, cutting down anyone and everyone in his path. The Minister of Rites tried to flee but to no avail. He watched in complete horror as his colleagues dropped dead one by one, their blood splattering over the grand walls of the throne room, their screams echoing.

The emperor went on a rampage, leaving no man behind. The Minister of Rites, who had been behind the idea of poisoning the empress, smearing her name by labelling her a demon, and executing her, was now filled with regret. They had turned him into the mad king his empress had feared. Perhaps they had finally achieved their goal, but it wasn't what they were prepared for.

The minister collapsed to his knees before the emperor, realising that His Imperial Majesty had saved him for last. Trembling, he rubbed his hands together in a desperate plea. "P-please, everything I've done, it's for the betterment of our nation."

Baekhyun's humourless laughter echoed through the hall, sending shivers down the minister's spine. "You truly believe that, don't you? Of course, that includes subjecting my wife to all that torment. Yes, because that is exactly what the nation needs. Unfortunately for you, I am the emperor, and I determine what's best for the nation. And in this case, I think it's better off without traitors like you. See you on the other side," were the last words the minister heard before his head was severed from his neck, rolling off to join the others on the floor.

The emperor finally turned back, his eyes softening as they landed on his beloved's lifeless body. Making his way back towards her, he knelt down beside her, tears streaming down his face as he reached for her hand. Holding it to his cheek, he missed the warmth it once had.

"I'm coming now, my love," he whispered brokenly. "I'm sorry you had to wait for so long. I'll be there with you soon."

"Yes, I understand His Imperial Majesty's orders not to enter, but it's been hours. Surely, any assembly would have concluded by now, wouldn't it?" With apprehension and curiosity, a senior court lady pushed open the doors to the once-bustling throne room, expecting to find His Imperial Majesty and his council of ministers. Instead, she was met with a horrifying sight—a scene of bloodshed and chaos spread across the grand hall.

Her piercing scream echoed through the silent room, jolting nearby palace staff into action. Rushing to the scene, they were met with a scene that chilled them to the bone. At the end of the room, amidst a sea of lifeless bodies, lay the empress on the throne, her appearance shocking all who beheld it. Beside her, her husband remained, his head cradled on her chest, their hands tightly clasped together. A gaping stab wound marred his chest—it seemed he had taken his own life before joining her in death.

Following that, the next prince in line promptly ascended the throne and found himself compelled to appoint an entirely new cabinet of ministers and officials. The entire nation descended into chaos, particularly since it was still embroiled in a war, with endless theories circulating about the events. While some speculated that the emperor succumbed to madness and killed his own council, others whispered of a conspiracy, suggesting that the ministers had orchestrated the demise of both the empress and the emperor.

Amidst this uncertainty, the new prince faced the daunting challenge of restoring order to the kingdom. With a heavy heart, he pledged to uncover the truth behind the tragic occurrences and ensure that justice was served to those responsible.

In the end, the truth of what truly occurred remained shrouded in mystery. All those involved had departed from the realm of the living. As centuries passed, that chapter in history became known as the Scarlet Requiem, a haunting tale that lingered in the collective memory of the kingdom. Despite countless efforts to unravel the enigma, the events surrounding the tragedy remained obscured by the sands of time, leaving future generations to ponder and speculate about the dark secrets of the past.

"What do you think really happened?" a woman asked her boyfriend as they studied a painting depicting the throne room scene in a museum dedicated to the events of the Scarlet Requiem.

He pondered for a moment before responding with a shrug. "It's hard to say. But judging by the way he's holding onto her, it seems he must have truly loved her. Let's hope they've found peace and happiness, whether in the afterlife or their next life."

She nodded in agreement, leaning into his comforting embrace. "Yeah, I hope so too."

He flashed a mischievous grin. "I'm just saying, if I were him, I wouldn't have left her for war in the first place."

She rolled her eyes and gave him a playful smack, though a smile danced on her lips. "I'm sure you wouldn't. I bet it's because the empress was described as beautiful as a celestial being."

He scoffed. "Doesn't matter to me how pretty she was. I'll stay only if you're my empress."

Unbeknownst to them, the couple had been contemplating their own past lives. Perhaps the emperor and empress had indeed found each other again in another existence.

Believe it or not, this has been on my mind for months ever since seeing those AI-generated photos of Baekhyun. I had an epiphany while looking at them again yesterday and just had to write this. It's my first EXO fic, and I hope it's decent hehe~

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

Master Tag list:

@the-kpop-simp @itstheghostofmypast @green-agent @vantediary @tinyteezer |

@hollxe1 @pandabur666 @lilactangerine @oddracha @evidive

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[vettelsvee]

getaway car with Oscar and Lando? works in any way I guess but sounds awesome

GETAWAY CAR | Lando Norris & Oscar Piastri

⋆ PAIRING: Oscar Piastri x Ex Lando's girlfriend Female!Reader x Lando Norris ⋆ SUMMARY: After having a relationship with his teammate, and having broken up with him after many years dating, you just need Oscar as a getaway car. ↳ REQUESTED: Yes! Thanks for requesting and hope you like it anon 💖 Part of REPUTATION in MY TORTURED DRIVERS DEPARTMENT ⋆ WARNINGS: Curse words, using Oscar to make Lando jealous (poor baby, sorry) ⋆ WORD COUNT: 2530 ⋆ VEE'S NOTES: Two days in a row posting fics 🥳 Also, writing this has currently me thinking a lot about Oscar's and Lando's plots for City of Stars AU 😭 Hope you like this and, if so, please tell me your thoughts, talking to me and rebloging! Thank you so much for reading <3 ↳ TALK TO ME! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST | CITY OF STARS F1 AU

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

You didn’t want to think about Lando Norris anymore.

You didn’t want to think about how he used to look at you after every race, how he would search for you in the crowd while wiping the sweat dripping from his forehead, longing to hold you and tell you just how much he wanted you.

You didn’t want to think about the jokes he used to make whenever he had the chance. Or the way he told you how much he loved you, how much he wanted a life with you, and how he desired a couple of kids running around in a few years.

And, of course, you didn’t want to think about how all those dreams shattered, along with your heart, the day you both decided to go your separate ways.

You never planned on using Oscar Piastri. It just… happened.

After breaking up with Lando, your life became a constant reminder that those years together hadn’t been a figment of your imagination. The media wouldn’t stop mentioning you, reminding him that you existed, and your presence in the McLaren garage remained evident, even if you were now nothing more than a ghost.

Oscar, with his quiet, composed demeanor, knew you weren’t doing well. You had never paid him much attention, but he had noticed you. The Australian had joined McLaren when your relationship with Lando was already crumbling, so you hadn’t been focused on anything other than trying to salvage what was left of it.

Back then, he was just another driver in the paddock, your boyfriend’s newest teammate, just that.. But now, he had unwittingly become the perfect centerpiece for your plan… though perhaps, it wasn’t much of a plan at all.

Oscar Piastri was the perfect getaway car.

The first time you took his hand in public was at a McLaren party after the Monaco Grand Prix. Oscar had finished second, and you couldn’t help but feel a little proud of him. Over the past few months, he had gravitated toward you, though you weren’t sure if it was out of pity or the hope that something real could come out of your unexpected bond.

Lando was across the room, laughing too loudly as he kept alternating his touch between the arms and waist of a model you were certain couldn’t even count to ten.

Your stomach twisted at how quickly he seemed to have moved on.

Oscar remained beside you, sipping timidly from his drink. His expression was unreadable, but his gaze was also fixed on Lando and that slender blonde you couldn’t help but envy.

Without thinking, you reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

His body tensed, and he quickly turned to face you.

“What are you doing?”

“Just play along, trust me.”

You felt his fingers tremble slightly, and for a moment, you feared he would pull away, leave you standing there, humiliated, in front of your ex, who was now looking at you with mild surprise… and, to your satisfaction, a faint smirk.

But Oscar didn’t let go.

The warmth of his hand stayed with yours, and as the minutes passed, he held on more firmly, more confidently.

That was when Lando’s laughter faded. His eyes met yours, and the confidence, the smug assurance he had displayed while entertaining that model, while pretending to be unbothered, vanished entirely. In its place, doubt crept in. A need for answers formed in his mind.

Perfect. That was exactly what you wanted.

And so, from that night on, it became a sort of routine between you and Oscar.

At first, you hesitated, but soon enough, you started showing up with Oscar on race weekends, always staying close to him. You’d reach for his hand, lean into him just enough for your arms to brush. You’d look at him more than necessary, and whenever the cameras found you during a race, you made sure to exaggerate your support for the man everyone assumed was secretly your new boyfriend.

When you knew Lando was watching, you made the game even more dangerous. You laughed louder with Oscar, touched his arm while doing so, hugged him, leaned in close enough for the world to believe your chemistry was undeniable, perhaps even stronger than what you once had with Lando.

Of course, the media caught on quickly, and soon, the headlines started rolling in.

“Oscar Piastri & Y/N spotted together in Monaco, leaving the Aussie’s house… New couple coming soon?”

“Formula 1’s McLaren’s golden boy in trouble: Lando Norris’ ex finds comfort in his teammate.”

Lando hadn’t spoken to you in weeks. You knew from social media and the whispers in the paddock that he was more than fed up with the situation you had created with his teammate.

Oscar, however, had begun to realize that maybe… there was something more going on. That maybe, for you at least, this wasn’t just about getting to know each other.

“Y/N, can we talk?”

His voice was quieter than usual. He had grabbed your arm before you could step into the McLaren hospitality, leading you to the back, where he knew no one would see you.

You crossed your arms and rolled your eyes. You already knew where this conversation was going. You had tried to avoid raising Oscar’s suspicions, but you had been so focused on getting back at Lando, on proving that you had moved on effortlessly, that you hadn’t realized how out of hand things were getting.

“About what?” you shot back, sharper than intended.

“You know what.” His jaw tightened. He looked away for a second, shaking his head before meeting your gaze again. “What exactly are we doing?”

“God, Oscar, we’re just having fun,” you forced a smile.

“Are we having fun, or are you having fun?” He frowned. There was a pause, long enough for a tight knot of guilt to form in your chest. “Because from where I stand, it feels like you’re just using me as a distraction to make Lando…”

“Does it even matter to you?” you interrupted him.

He didn't say anything else, but he didn’t need to. His gaze dropped, startled. Tiny glimmers of what seemed to be impending tears surfaced in his eyes.

But it was his reaction—how quickly he left—that left you standing there, alone. Unable to say anything else. Unable to apologize. And, most of all, unaware that, that night, Oscar would cry over a girl for the first time. Unaware that you had set something in motion you didn’t even consider had a real beginning.

Despite Oscar's best efforts to build a wall between you, and despite your attempts not to see him as an escape, you both continued the same pattern… until the British Grand Prix arrived.

The first raindrops started falling just as you scanned your accreditation at the paddock entrance. You followed Oscar, walking beside him, even as he was absorbed by a group of fans eager for pictures. Not just them, but also Formula 1 cameras and a handful of journalists began turning their attention toward the two of you, flashing lights and throwing questions that had nothing to do with Oscar’s thoughts on qualifying.

The walk to the McLaren garage was mostly silent. You exchanged the occasional meaningless remark, both knowing the weight of silence was enough to make the tension unbearable. Enough to make pretending everything was fine feel impossible.

And as if things weren’t uncomfortable enough, Lando was standing at the garage entrance, arms crossed, as though he’d been waiting for you.

The sight of him made you stop abruptly, instinctively tightening your grip on Oscar’s arm. But Oscar didn’t even flinch. He simply kept walking, indifferent to the fact that you had frozen in place.

Lando’s gaze shifted between the two of you. First, at you, standing there, unsure of how to step inside without Oscar’s support. Then, at Oscar, who had just set his backpack down, close enough to keep looking at you, deliberately ignoring his teammate.

“I see it didn’t take you long to replace me.”

Lando’s words were cold. Sharp. They struck deeper than you wanted to admit.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears. Once again, a familiar tightness wrapped around your chest, the weight of your own choices pressing down on you.

“Maybe I finally found someone good enough for me.”

Oscar stiffened beside you at your response.

Lando scoffed, shaking his head. 

“Yeah, sure.” Then, turning to Oscar, he added: “Hope you know what you’re getting yourself into, mate.”

“Lando, I think you’re misunderstanding—”

“So you two are still at it, huh?” your ex cut you off, stepping closer. “Honestly, I didn’t think you’d last this long.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, Y/N. Tell me you’re not serious.”

Your heart kept hammering, but you refused to let Lando be right, even though you knew he was.

Not because you wanted to hide the obvious truth, but because you didn’t want to hurt Oscar.

Though maybe… you should have thought about that before playing such a dangerous game.

“Why does this even matter to you, Lando?” you finally shot back.

His lips parted slightly, as if caught completely off guard by your question.

“It doesn’t. At all. Trust me.” He said it too quickly. “I just think it’s funny how you’re acting like some spoiled fifteen-year-old throwing a tantrum because she didn’t get her way.”

Oscar shifted beside you, tense, hands buried deep in the pockets of his hoodie like it was some sort of shield. He still hadn’t spoken, and you doubted he even wanted to. But you could feel it, his body language shifting.

For the first time, Oscar wasn’t going to play along.

“Look, mate, I get it,” Lando continued, voice dripping with mockery. “She’s… fuck, she’s gorgeous, and personality-wise. She’s a fucking solid ten, I won’t lie.”

His words made you feel sick. And if it weren’t for Oscar gripping your hand, silently keeping you in place, you would have walked away.

“But this? She needs a rebound, Osc. And you’re the easiest option for that. Hell, probably the best way to get back at me.”

The air was knocked right out of your lungs.

Oscar tensed even more, if that was even possible. His breathing, which had been steady until now, turned shallow. Uneven.

“Lando, stop—” you pleaded, your stomach twisting painfully.

“Don’t do this,” Oscar cut in, voice quiet but razor-sharp.

Lando arched a brow. “Do what?”

“Talk about her like that. Talk about… us like that.” Oscar kept his tone measured, but you knew he was barely holding himself together.

“Tell him, babe.”

The ground beneath you felt like it was crumbling. Your vision blurred. Your lungs burned for air.

And even though you desperately wanted this to be over, you also wished you could just sink into a deep sleep and never wake up.

You knew this moment was inevitable, that you’d have to face the truth eventually.

You just never thought it would happen like this.

Not with the two men who, in some way or another, had been a part of your life.

“Come on, babe. Just say it.” Lando kept pushing, calling you the same way he used to call you and clearly enjoying your suffering, as well as Oscar’s growing desperation. “Tell him that this whole show you’re putting on, both in public and in private, is all a lie.”

Your eyes flickered between your ex-boyfriend and the boy who never quite became one. You opened your mouth, but the words refused to come out.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

Oscar’s statement, laced with sarcasm and a humorless chuckle as he shook his head, left you frozen.

“So it was just to make me jealous, huh?”

Lando’s once-taunting tone had softened into something almost melodic, as if he were pleased to have caught you red-handed playing with his teammate, who now looked utterly defeated.

You wanted to deny it. You wanted to say something, anything, to fix the damage you had seemingly done to both of them. But the only thing you managed to offer was silence, long enough to confirm everything.

You turned to Oscar, desperation creeping into your voice.

“Oscar, this wasn’t—”

But he was already stepping away from you.

His expression was unreadable. His eyes… God, his eyes carried a pain so sharp it made you want to disappear on the spot.

“So that’s all I was to you… a getaway car," he said, his words slow and deliberate.

It wasn’t a question. It was the confirmation of suspicions that no longer needed proving.

“Oscar, I…” You shook your head, taking a step forward.

Oscar didn’t move further away, but he didn’t let you close the distance either. He didn’t let you take his hands, though that was your intention.

“I already knew,” he admitted quietly, as if saying it out loud could somehow take it all back. “I knew you were using me to try and get back with Lando, or… hell, I don’t even know anymore.” He exhaled, glancing away for a moment before locking eyes with you again. “And yet, if I’m being completely honest, I thought that maybe… just maybe… things between us would change. That you’d come to love me even half as much as you once loved Lando.”

A lump formed in your throat.

“Osc, I never meant—”

“But you did it anyway,” he cut you off. It stung that there was no anger in his words, only that familiar kindness of his, the one that had slowly become your favorite melody. And now, you knew you had lost it forever. “From the very start, you wanted to use me. You just never thought I’d catch on.”

You felt yourself shatter from the inside out.

“Oscar…”

“You know what’s even worse? I would’ve gone along with it. I would’ve faked a relationship with you if you had at least been honest with me about it.”

Lando remained silent, watching intently.

You had been so focused on making him jealous, on proving to yourself that you were fine, better than ever, that you hadn’t even stopped to consider the collateral damage.

Oscar swallowed hard, nodding slowly as if convincing himself, as if accepting that this was truly the end.

“See you around, Y/N.”

With that, he turned and walked out of the garage, stepping into the rain.

And yet, you were the one who felt drenched, empty, and above all, alone. Dirty.

Lando was still there.

For the first time since your breakup, he wasn’t smiling with that infuriating, carefree grin. The very one that had pushed you to start using Oscar in the first place.

There was no mockery in his expression now. No satisfaction. He simply looked at you with quiet expectation, as if waiting for you to say something, to accuse him of something.

“You really fucked everything up,” he said softly. “I hope you realize you’ve hurt Oscar far more than I ever hurt you when we decided to break up. If I remember correctly, by mutual agreement.”

“Yeah, I know.”

You did know. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

If you like my content, and would like to support me, you can do it here <3 Thank you so much for reading until the very end! <3

[goldtheorys]

Jeff the Killer SFW alphabet

_x gn reader 🖤

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⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Oh, you’re never getting away. I said it before, Jeff doesn’t really get many chances to make friends, much less get a partner with his… lifestyle. As soon as he becomes aware and open to the idea of affection he’s constantly giving it, and constantly demanding it. Something something velcro bf.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Ehhhhh. He’s a good friend, to a certain extent. I mean, emotional support? Genuine love and affection? Unlikely unless you’ve been putting up with him for years. If you have, you’re still the target of a lot of cruel pranks, but he’s come to rely on you and lets you do the same in return.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Well, as long as nobodies around? Stuck to you like glue. He personally favors you on top of him like a weighted blanket while he sleeps after a long night of very normal and legal hobbies 👀 Rarely initiates, but he never refuses it if you offer. Or just throw yourself at him with no warning.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Ah, well… he can’t really do that. Just because the hype over him has died down since he first snapped doesn’t mean he can ever live a normal life. He’s moving between places every few months evading, well, everyone but you really. Although, if you have a home that’s not dead slap in the middle of a city… he wouldn’t mind treating that as a base of sorts. But if you want to keep that home, don’t let him near the stove. He’ll burn it down. Or the cleaning supplies! He’ll make new elements to add to the periodic table… please don’t leave your Jeff unsupervised.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Depends how far you are in the relationship/circumstances. If you’ve been a thing for less than a year, or you betrayed him in some way, he’ll take little to no issue in killing you. Maybe he’ll be attached enough at that point to make it quick and painless, but that’s the best you’ll get. Now if it’s been longer or you didn’t try to sell him out or anything, he’ll just full ghost. He can’t bring himself to kill someone he loves, but he’s also no good with emotions. No closure, reason, goodbye… one day you’ll just wake up and never see him again.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Well, marriage is kind off the table unless you jump through a few flaming hoops. As for commitment… that’s a tricky one. He likes to ignore his emotions, and his needs, and anything that makes life too complicated. But, even as a deranged murderer, he’s still human in some sense of the word. He’ll never admit it and might disappear for a few weeks if you bring it up, but yeah, if you’re reeeeaaaalllyy worth it, he can try to get over that little fear and stick by you.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Oof… he’s got the potential. I mean, look at it logically. He went psycho killer at 13-14, right? And I imagine him early-mid twenties for this. That’s a lot of years where he hasn’t felt love or affection. Does he want it? Yes. Does he want to give it back? Also yes. Is he any good at that? No! But he’s really trying to. He’ll come around to being gentle physically somewhat quick, but emotionally would take a lot of work.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He likes bear hugs, the type where the air is squeezed out of you and ribs nearly crack. On you of course, he’d start fighting it like a wild cat if you tried the same. Prefers quick hugs if he isn’t initiating.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Either immediately or it takes him so long it’s worrying when he finally says it, no in between. He tends to fall into an obsession of sorts if he was to go so far as to consider you date worthy, but with the fear of commitment he might wait a long while until it feels safe to say it.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Varies on your lifestyle. If you’re a “normie” he gets jealous of EVERYONE. Friends, past lovers, neighbors, pets… probably the air you breathe lol. The narcissism is still there; he’s hot, strong, perfect, of course you love him. But he can’t give you that normal life style, and that’s what worries him. He’s afraid you’ll think it’s too strenuous with him and cheat. Now if you’re a killer, monster, whatever, he still has his moments, but it’s rare and easy for him to get over. You’re on the same paths, so he only takes a problem if you stare at someone for too long. In both situations though, if he thinks someone else is about to ruin what he has, they’re dead within 12 hours.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Light, ticklish surprise kisses if he’s tired or somehow calm. They’re rare, but he loves the way your shoulders hunch up defensively when he trails them on the back of your neck, dragging his nails along your arm/waist. Usually they’re a lot rougher. They’re just like him; sudden, powerful, and warm. These ones… tend to lead to something else, but it’s also usually his welcome home kiss after he’s been waiting on you.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Ummm… 😭 probably avoids them at all costs honestly. Or bullies the hell out of em if he can’t escape. If it’s like a situation where you have a kid already, guardian for your little sib etc, he might be more tolerant, but there would still be a petty rivalry. Long story short, he kinda hates em.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Will literally body slam you back into bed if you try to get up before he’s ready. Running, killing and the scars in his body are all a bit strenuous, so once he falls asleep next to you he never wants it to end. The pain is dulled and you’re right in front of him, kind of forced to admire how beautiful he is, could there ever be a more perfect situation?

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

He’s like a cat, he won’t let you sleep. If you try, he’ll roll his body on top of yours and just start blasting music from YOUR phone, like an asshole. Once you’re convinced to do an all nighter though, it’s all video games and him shit talking his own dead victims. Sometimes, if you go to cook or bake something he’ll try to help, but it all ends in disaster. Best to just let him treat you like a jungle gym, it’s the least destructive he’ll be in that situation.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Okay, again, this can go two ways. He’s a complicated-not-complicated man. It’s not like he can hide his identity from you with the scarring and whatnot. Most likely scenario is after having befriended him in someway, he says everything all at once, before you start dating. He wants to see how you handle it, if you’ll run, if you already knew, if it somehow changed your opinion of him. Less likely, and I don’t know how this one would happen exactly, but he might wait a long while just to make sure you really will stay. Whether it’s right away or far later, it’s one last effort/checkbox to see if you’re worth his time.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Very easily angered. Come on. It’s Jeff. Although, one plus side is that he won’t take it out on you. He might scream and yell at you, especially if you’re the cause of the issue somehow, but once he realizes it’s hurting your feelings or just making you pissed too, he scampers off to do some killing and let off steam. (pssst i wrote how he comes back after events like that in my old jtk headcanons post)

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

It would take awhile for anything to stick. When you first met, he couldn’t even remember your name. He’s very self centered and thinks it all should be about him, but at the point of dating some things just subconsciously stay stuck in his memory. And then there’s a few he consciously makes the effort to remember. Soon after, your body, your brain, your speech patterns are practically burned into his memory.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

It’s a bit shallow, but his first favorite is when you first met. He always likes seeing how people perceive him, gauging the expressions on their faces. Everything had flickered so fast across yours, it made him laugh that he could immediately take so much space in someone’s mind. So yeah, he stayed for the ego boost from that maybe.

His second favorite is his first kiss with you. But he’ll never tell anyone that, especially not you.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Ough…that’s a tough one…

But these are relationship headcanons so-

He would be very protective. It doesn’t matter if you’re secretly worse. Sometimes when he’s up at night and couldn’t get you to stay up, he stares and realizes you’re kind of all he’s got. If anyone wants to get in the way of your happiness (especially with him), he’ll gut them and bring the heart to you like a fucked up cat.

He likes it when you cover for him. If you’re out in public and someone seems to be catching onto him, he appreciates when you pull his hood down further and/or make a scene so he can slip away.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

The only thing he would do out of free will is the anniversary celebration. He’s not stupid, he knows most couples are supposed to celebrate that or whatever. He’ll steal snacks or cool expensive shit from his victims homes and bring those to you on the date, but probably won’t say that it’s for that exactly… he rarely gives gifts any other time though, so it’s not difficult to guess why he did it that day of all days.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

A bit of a slob, and expects you to clean up after him. If you yell at and sass him enough he’ll make an effort to be cleaner, but hey, nobody’s perfect. (He’d argue against that but whatever). Also no regard for the cleanliness of your bathroom because if he’s in a bad mental state, he’ll recut his smile scars, leaving his blood splattered in there.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

As long as his smile scars aren’t completely healed and faded, he considers himself absolutely stunning, so apart from that he doesn’t worry about it too much. Appreciates when you try to get him in on the face care routine or wash his hair, it’s one of the only activities you can do with him where he’s not squirming around and shadow boxing you the whole time.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Ok so again, a year or less he won’t really give a fuck. He’s very hesitant to get emotionally attached, but he’s not immune to it. If he’s been with you long enough you’re a part of his routine in some way or another, weeks spent away from you feel like torture. You’ve gotten accustomed to taking calls from random numbers, since it’s usually him calling from a stolen phone to make sure you’re still alive, maybe drop a quiet “love you”.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

A new type of felony was established because of him. Nobody else is yet to commit it. Will you ever get to know what fucked up shit he did to get that? No.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He HATES it when people constantly argue with him or are total killjoys. He’ll admit to a certain extent he’s a little wild and impulsive, but people who constantly want to stay in line and follow the rules piss him off.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He talks in his sleep! Ask him questions, sometimes you’ll get half coherent answers.

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THIS TOOK SO LONG hope it was enjoyable though! Jeff is currently kind of like. the main love interest in my fanfic. FOR NOW. but yeah i did this to help make it easier to write him for myself. Ummm request open!

[nisuna]

Hi hello everyone<3 I'm so sorry for disappearing for a whole two months 🥲 Some of you may have seen the post about me breaking my tail bone ha ha..

I was just feeling so deflated and uninspired... HOWEVER, the love for my cult!leader!Geto x non!sorcerer!f!reader AU won after all!!! I just have to release everything I have planned for this timeline, ehe it's so precious to me🫶🏻

I have been reading A LOT of manhwas recently, and yesterday's chapter just made me want to write again, yaaayy

So I present to you part two of the smut adventures of cult leader geto 🥰 Hope you enjoy!!

Check out the cult leader headcannons here!<3 and Part 1 here

TW: public sex, soft geto????, calling him by his first name:))), different positions, biting, unprotected sex; he still calls you pet, of course; voyeurism, 1k words

<3masterlist<3

Cult leader Geto just couldn't get enough of you. Once he got a taste, he would continue fucking you all throughout the whole day. So it was just one of those days. Having everyone watch you whimper and squirm in pleasure just spurred his excitement on impossibly more. He never considered voyeurism to be his thing, but you have opened his eyes to many new things. Most importantly, you didn't even realise how strong of a grip you actually had on him.

There was nothing unusual about today's session in front of everyone. You looked and sounded breathtaking while laying beneaty him, exposed for everyone to see while panting his name. The first time he fucked you in front of everyone you were beyond embarassed. You kept hiding and looking for reassurance that never came. But now you were letting it all out. All shame was thrown out of the window, instead replaced by pure lust. You were getting off on being watched.

"Mhhh~~ Geto-sama!!", you kept screaming while he pounded away at your sopping wet cunt.

Everyone called him Geto-sama. Hearing you moan it was nothing out of the ordinary. However, today, that name just wasn't doing it for him. But he pushed those thoughts away as swiftly as they appeared and continued with his ministrations.

Later that day you were still helplessly sobbing that darn "Geto-sama" you have been doing while getting fucked in front of his followers.

Weirdly enough, he was actually getting sick of it. Hearing his title slip through your kiss-swollen lips reminded him of all of his followers. It was getting distracting at this point, so he swiftly picked you up and sat you back down on his lap.

As he was bottoming out, another trembling chant of his name made its way out of your mouth.

"AH- Geto-sama" you mumbled, back arching and nails digging into his firm back.

"Enough of that, pet!", he he raised his voice in annoyance while squeezing your cheeks between his long fingers. You were definitely caught off guard, shrieking in fear. "Did-I do anyfing -rong?? 'Msory Geto-sa- ow", you slurred, eyes trembling with fear but couldn't finish as his grip on your jaw only tightened. He was starting to hurt you, but you were too scared to resist.

He kept a fist-full of your face while pulling your face in front of his. He kept you in his grasp for what felt like forever burning holes into you with his sharp eyes. You stayed silent throughout.

After minutes of silence, he finally let go of you. You could feel the burning sensation his fingerprints left on your face but didn't dare to move despite the pain. You've learned the hard way to never pull away from him.

"Try Suguru.", he said monotonously, but you swore you saw the corners of his mouth twitch up in amusement for a split second.

You looked at him with a confused stare, mumbling "Sugu-", before you could finish, you slapped a hand over your mouth with a loud gasp. That was his first name. "Geto-sama, I couldn't possibly, that's too -"

Your distressed voice did arouse him, but it also made him want to soothe your worried expression. Another eye-opening experience he's never had with his followers before meeting you, compassion. He didn't dwell on it for long, though, and just interrupted.

"Do it for me. I wish to hear you say it.", his voice sounded awfully soft and genuine all of a sudden. Like he was desperately yearning for you to say it.

Has he gone mad? How could you call him by his first name? What would the others think? No. But before you could speak again, he added, "But only in the bedroom, this is between you and me only."

Between you and him only? Over the time you stayed with him, you did start feeling his demeanour soften around you. He was letting you see much more than anyone else. But you kept pushing these thoughts away. They were ridiculous, Geto-sama seeing you as something special? No way.

Yes way.

You hesitated. You swore to obey his every word. You couldn't just push his request aside. You mustered all the courage you had as he grabbed your hips in excitement.

"I-if you wish so, I will try. S-suguru..sama."

You didn't expect to see him grin as widely and toothy as he did in this exact moment.

"Atta girl, such a good pet you are. Good girls like you", he whispered, leaning in while nibbling up your neck. "deserve a reward. Now, on all fours."

-----

The next few times he fucked you in front of the others you actually had to concentrate on calling him Geto-sama. Oddly enough you grew accustomed to calling him Suguru during sex way to easily.

So one day, while your legs were thrown over his shoulders, kimono ripped open to expose your plush breasts, you almost slipped and fell.

You kept begging him to please slow down, but his tempo was relentless, stamina seemingly never ending during today's session. You tried getting used to it and calming down, but you just couldn't hold it in any longer at one point.

"Mhh.. Sugu~~", you moaned out before you could comprehend what you have just done. You just dumbly pressed your soft tits against his firm chest.

You froze as his hips came to a halt completely. He was staring at you with wide eyes. Oh you're fucked. But to your surprise a punishment didn't follow, instead he leaned down and whispered.

"If you can't control your words, you can bite my shoulder to calm down. Here.", he whispered gently.

You were definitely going to take him up on that offer when he was being so kind right now.

You gave him a nod, opening your mouth. He smiled before sensually rocking his hips into yours. He was as gentle as the night you shared your first kiss.

The reassurance you had been looking for finally came in the form of his soft gaze. You felt at ease, but when you finally bit down, you almost screamed at his growl and how he picked up his speed. The soothing rhythm from before was long forgotten. With the way his cock was bullying itself inside your gummy walls so aggressively, calming down wasn't an option. Seems like his plan backfired. The bite was making him lose his mind.

Oh well, better keep biting that shoulder, girl, or you won't be able to stop yourself from screaming his (first) name. ;)

-----

Hope to see you very soon with more stuff!!<3 Stay tuned and thank you for all of the support even while I was gone🙆🏻‍♀️ Confession or mirror sex next??? or maybe first time ehe lmk what I should cook 😈

[princeoftheeternalbog]

thinking about izou guys...lets go

I think there's a little bit of insecurity coming off here so i think maybe this could be considered comfort because he's going to worship you🫡 this just kept going and going btw guys sorry

let me know if the dialogue is confusing and I'll colour code it🤞

I also invented u a bestie idk

ALSO that part where he's thinking about fighting is making me think about sparring headcannons...

- ✧ -

You feel like someone's staring at you.

You've been feeling like that a lot lately actually.

It's not unpleasant, more a hyperaware tingle on the back of your neck as you organise parts of the new supplies.

It's odd, you think, you're not sure why someone would be staring at you of all people.

You look up, trying to get a glimpse of whoevers causing the feeling, but your eyes can't help but drift back to the man in front of you. His head was turned and he was talking to one of the other crew members, someone in his division you think, you weren't exactly looking. No, your focus was on the elegance of his profile, the way his hair looked like liquid silk and framed the muscles of his broad shoulders like water against rock.

At least he wouldn't catch you looking at him since he never seemed to look your way.

You hadn't been on the ship long, 6 months max maybe. You settled quickly into your division, finding companionship easily within the familial feeling of the crew. And while you were more than strong enough to be recruited by the Whitebeard pirates, there's still not really a reason for anyone to stare, especially not Izou. Your strength is the hidden kind, something you only ever use in a fight, and other than that there's nothing really interesting about you.

At least that's what you think.

- ✧ -

Izou strongly disagrees.

He fears he might've gone insane, the level of space you occupy within his mind can't be normal, especially when you'd barely spoken 3 sentences to him(one time you said his lips looked beautiful and he honestly thought he would've proposed if you hadnt walked away).

He just can't help it, he'd first seen you before the crew had attempted to recruit you (on his recommendation of course) and the way you fought was breathtaking. He kind of wanted you to beat him up like that, but that might mess up his hair and he was sure he'd wouldn't be into that nearly as much.

As soon as that fight was over though, he'd seen that transformation into your normal personality and he was hooked from the beginning. The way you went from such a serious, scary, powerhouse to just so-

You.

He couldn't even put it into words.

He can't help but linger around you, sitting near you during celebrations and dinner, swapping chores to put you a bit closer. Not that he talks to you, no no, he's quite nervous if you must know.

You make him feel so many emotions he's never felt before, he's never been nervous around someone he fancys and it makes him feel sick- in a good way, but still sick.

To be honest though, he's more worried about making you uncomfortable, technically you'd be a subordinate to him, he doesn't want to pressure you so he'd much rather keep his attraction to himself.

No matter how much his brothers pushed him to be more open with his feelings.

- ✧ -

It can't be that hard to figure out who it is. Surely someone has a reason to be looking at you, and you'd already asked all of your cabin mates if you had any wardrobe malfunctions or food on your face and there was a unanimous no. Though they were snickering amongst themselves for some reason...

You brushed things like that off though, it didn't seem to be malicious and you and your cabin mates had developed quite a strong bond even in just a few months so you didn't think they would be making fun of you. But regardless they're weren't very helpful, so you decide to ask around.

You had a check up scheduled today so that could be a good place to start, and you had a pretty good relationship with your usual nurse Maren so you're sure she'd tell you if she knew anything.

- ✧ -

Tate was amused. And that's putting it lightly.

She'd noticed the special attention you seemed to be attracting as of late, well most everyone had. Apart from you.

You were so so oblivious. Even when it was staring you right in the face, which is precisely what Izou had been doing to you earlier. Not that you noticed the comical way he whipped his head to the side whenever you looked up. And you didn't even see the flush on his face that was clearly visible to everyone even through the makeup that he tended to favour.

She couldn't help the way her lips twitched upwards when Maren made eye contact with her over your shoulder, as you asked whether they'd noticed anything.

"That's probably Izou"

Your head turns so fast that Maren's hands fly up in a panic, making sure you didnt pull anything.

"What do you mean"

Your voice sounds a bit jittery and you fidget and Tate really grins then,

"What I just said"

"But why would he- like why would he look at me"

She shrugs

"He's attracted to you"

You gape at her, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

"But- what?"

Your voice is rising now, in befuddlement and embarassment and it doesn't help that Tate and Maren look like they're laughing at you.

"Oh hun most people have noticed apart from you...Izou seems to have a little crush on you"

Maren giggles as she finishes her sentence, rubbing your shoulder as she nonchalantly drops this massive revelation.

"I- what."

You sound so flabbergasted that Maren feels a twinge of concern for your self esteem so she barrels on,

"Well you're cute, you're funny, you're crazy strong which is always a bonus, there was that time you complimented his lipstick, oh you should've seen his face as you walked away I thought he was gonna have a stroke-"

"He's constantly near you, even in fights when he should be paying more attention to whats going on in front of him than wherever you are"

Theres a hint of annoyance in Tate's tone but you can recognise it's probably directed towards Izou. Probably. You can never tell with Tate.

"But we've never even really spoke-"

"Well I can assure you he wants to change that"

You'd never really thought about it, I mean obviously you were attracted to him and felt a lot of respect and frankly you would date him if given the opportunity. But you didn't ever think he'd be interested in you, no that would be silly, he's so strong, so composed. You couldn't for the life of you imagine him with a crush and yet here you were being told the crush is on you.

"What...do i do"

"It depends obviously"

She's confusing you now.

"On what?"

Tate rolls her eyes, "On if you reciprocate"

"What does that mean"

Maren butts in again, "On if you want to try dating him silly"

You feel yourself curl in from embarrassment as you say it but you can't stop your mouth,

"Who wouldn't?"

- ✧ -

This was so bizarre.

You're not quite sure you believed the nurses at the start but now that you were looking you could see it. He was so often in the same place that you were, so often making sure you were safe, so often looking at you with a dreamy expression.

And it was kinda...really cute.

Well what can you say, he's quite a serious man, flashy and fashionable but serious nonetheless. Seeing his composure falter was sweet- and hot, really hot.

You'd tried winking at him earlier to see what would happen and he'd choked on his drink in his fluster, while cute, not something you would like to recreate considering how quickly he left after that. You imagine he'd felt embarrassed but you simply felt entertained and very flattered.

You wondered what you were going to do about it. You weren't exactly that experienced and youd certainly never asked the other person out first.

Though....you had some ideas in mind...

The next island you were docking at was famed for it's markets, big bustling things that took up several streets at any given time.

So it was settled.

You were going to woo a commander.

- ✧ -

You didn't think it was going to be this difficult.

You knew what Izou liked, how he wore his clothes, how he did his hair and his makeup.

But nothing was speaking to you, no matter how beautiful or precious it was. It was driving you mad. It didn't help that the people you'd enlisted for help were infact not being very helpful at all.

Maren was simply pointing out things either she wanted or she thought would look good on you, which....could actually be useful later for the aforementioned wooing so you did actually listen to her sometimes.

And then there was Ace, you'd thought he'd be very beneficial in this outing considering he was practically the second division commander already and thus was friends with the majority of the commanders. Well... he was just flirting with every shopkeeper.

You sighed as someone shouldered into you.

Gods this street was so busy it was an absolute nightmare to be in. You'd all taken to tying each others belts together, lest you get lost or worse in a fight. It prevented Ace from wandering off too, scatterbrained that he is.

Maren's sudden gasp had you turning in alarm before she started tapping your arm in excitement.

"Look! Look! Look!"

"What am I looking at" You're squinting but there's too many people to see where she's even pointing.

She sighs, exasperated, before grabbing your head with both her hands and moving it to in front of her own. You stumble as she practically manhandles your body in front of her so your eyes can follow the exact line of site she was looking at.

"....oh"

"YEAH OH!"

You turn to face her,

"Maren I think you're a genius"

"Hey what about me-"

"Shut up Ace" The way you speak simultaneously makes you both giggle.

He doesn't stop pouting as he's dragged over to a frankly shady, tented market stall.

He's not sure why he's here anymore, he feels more like a mascot. Though he doesn't want to go back to the ship just yet, the way Izou had looked when you'd grabbed Ace's hand to drag him off the ship made him shiver.

He hopes you find a good present before Izou finds him.

- ✧ -

He's picking at his nail polish again.

He can't help it- he's so anxious, anxious that you'd been out all day on the island, anxious that you'd went with Ace of all people, anxious that you'd held his hand.

He knew Ace was attractive, many of the younger crew members were quite sweet on him afterall. But you'd never seemed to show any interest and he didn't think you'd go for someone younger than you...unless maybe you would.

He's scowling so much his forehead hurts.

He just doesn't understand.

Why would you want to go and hang out with Ace when you could hang out with him-

Ugh he felt disgusted, being jealous always made him feel dirty, such an ugly, improper emotion to have and yet here he was seething away.

Maybe he should've made a move.

Maybe he can still make one-

No that wouldn't be fair, not if you were going out with Ace.

It must be some divine punishment that he'd be forced to see it though.

- ✧ -

You laughed brightly as you and Ace raced back to the ship, shopping bouncing lightly against your side. Maren had gotten there first, setting off the whole race when you two were distracted the little cheat. She was giggling herself at the top of the gangplank as you and Ace shouldered each other trying to get up it first.

"THERE'S NO WAY I'LL LET YOU WIN"

"MAREN ALREADY WON THIS IS FOR SECOND PLACE IDIOT"

"WELL I'M NOT BEING IT"

"THATS WHAT YOU THINK" You're blowing a raspberry at him as you reach the top when he accidentally knocks your leg and you feel your centre of gravity shift.

You briefly feel panic claw up your throat, even though you'd land in the water, it was still a massive drop, one that you weren't prepared for and one that would potentially ruin the utmost perfect present.

It doesn't last long though, something snatches the side of your holster belt, holding you up like a dog in air prison.

Once you get your eyes to open back up, you see black leather before anything else and then the soft whites and pinks of his kimono print.

"Izou-"

You don't mean to say his name so excitedly but as you look up and he smirks and that little dimple on his left cheek appears, you can't really feel any regret for it.

"Darling you need to be more careful, I might not be there to catch you next time"

"Ah right- sorry" You turn your head in embarrassment, feeling hot. Your gaze meets Maren's and she winks before dragging an apologising Ace back onto the deck.

"Alright let's get you up lovely"

You expect him to reach with his other arm and haul you up back onto the gangplank.

You do not expect him to toss you in the air.

You think your shriek of fear may have disrupted the local ecosystem.

"WHAT THE HELL IZOU?"

The man has the audacity to laugh as he catches you in his arms.

"THAT WAS SO UNNECESSARY-"

"I apologise dear- I just wanted to see your face-"

Your eye twitches

"AND TO THINK I WAS GONNA ASK YOU OUT ON A DATE WELL YOU-"

You smack a hand over your own mouth, hoping it will somehow erase those words from out the air.

You can hear Maren and Ace crying on each other in the background about how 'all of their hard work has been wasted'.

Of course you were going to do it eventually but you'd wanted more time to prepare.

"Is that so?" His voice is lilted, teasing almost.

"Uh well- you know-

...yes"

The end of your sentence is barely audible as you wince. Even though logically you know he'll likely say yes, the embarrassment makes you wish you had fell off the gangplank. And maybe drowned while we're at it.

"Ask me then" When you look at him, he's smirking but you can see the blush steadily rising on his face.

"Uh what"

"Ask me darling, I do have places to be you know"

"Right, right, uh can you maybe like put me down first"

He raises one of those perfectly styled eyebrows before setting you on your feet.

"Okay now turn around"

He looks amused but he turns and you start rooting through your bag until you find the exact item you want.

It had taken a while to find, routing through that little jewellers stall, but it was absolutely perfect. You weren't exactly sure he'd wear something like it but it just felt like it almost embodied his energy.

It was a strange little thing, the stall owner had told you that the carved opal, inlaid into the wood, was found on the shore. He'd crafted the wooden part himself to curve perfectly around the delicate shapes of the crane, creating a moon shaped pendant that took your breathe away almost as much as Izou did. You worried the wood might seem plain to him but to you it felt like it was grounding, tying a feeling of the earth back to a gemstone which felt like glittering starlight.

You cleared your throat gently, holding it out in one palm of your hand.

He turns back towards you but he doesn't look down yet, his eyes are fixed on your face and you feel a bit like you're made of jelly.

"Izou... I've always held a...strong...admiration for you-"

You can see Maren wincing sympathetically behind him and you feel like throwing the pendant at her head.

He's smiling though, so you keeo going on.

"I wanted to ask you if you uh...

ifyoudliketogoonadatewithme"

Your eyes clench shut as you internally cringe and you think that came out as gibberish.

"How sweet"

You risk peeking at him with one eye and he doesn't seem to be making fun of you so you relax a little bit.

"And I...bought this for you...you don't have to keep it. It just reminded me of you"

He finally looks down at the small pendant in your hand and it's like he forgets how to breathe.

"Where did you-"

"You don't have to keep it."

His eyes shoot up to meet yours and then before you even process that he's moving, he's kissing you.

His lips are soft, just like they looked, and you're sure he's transferring his lipstick but you don't really care as you hook an arm around his neck. He's pulled you in by the waist, trapping the arm with the pendant against his body.

He kisses with such a purpose like he's trying to devour you, like he's trying to memorise every part of your mouth.

And he's really good at it.

You feel lightheaded, possibly from lack of air, but more likely because of the devotion you can feel through this kiss. You really hope there's nobody nearby because you kind of want to crawl into his lap and never leave.

He keeps trying to pull you closer, practically pulling you onto your tiptoes as he leans over you, almost like a dip in a dance.

He pulls back slightly for air but each breath is punctuated with a kiss and he's mumbling compliments all the while.

"Sweet, pretty thing"

Kiss

"So clever"

Kiss

"So lovely"

Kiss

You think you might pass out if he keeps focusing this much of his attention on you but you don't exactly want him to stop either.

"OH COME ON GET A ROOM"

Ace being useful for once is surprising enough to be effective at pulling you two apart.

You're gasping as you lean your forehead against his own and he starts talking before you even remember where you were.

"How did you find something like that? How did you know to get it?"

"What do you mean?" Your voice sounds soft and gooey even in your own ears but you can't feel embarrassed when he sounds so grateful.

"It's from home, my home. That opal-"

He's kissing you again as he whispers little thank yous against your mouth.

No wonder it reminded you so much of him.

"WHAT DID I JUST SAY"

Izou finally pulls back as a potato flies past his head. You can't see the look on his face but Ace immediately goes white so you imagine it must be quite impressive. He turns back to you and the adoration that shines on his face makes you feel all flustered.

"Darling I fear I could never give you a gift so precious"

"You...would be enough"

"Ah but then I get you as well, and I believe that means I owe you double, I better get started on that"

He's hoisting you back into his arms before you can reply and then he's whisking you away towards his cabin.

Maren is cheering way too loudly.

[loser4loserswhok1ll]

First Meetings + Touches With The Slashers

How you meet and how your first touch goes

Headcanons

Sfw, fluff, some angst, slashers learning how love works and sort of failing</3, GN reader

Includes: Martin Mathias, Brahms Heelshire, Michael Myers (RZ), Norman Bates, Kurt Kunkle

💉Martin Mathias

It was.. awkward.

you were spinning slowly on the roundabout thing at the park with Martin

it was late at night, pitch black out, and you guys were just existing together, talking only every now and then

youve done this since martin moved into town

you guys met when he delivered a package to your house and when you came to put it away for your mother you instantly wanted to know this kid

he looked around your age and you think he felt the same

so you guys just became friends and sat in the silence of the other like this often

you did most of the talking as Martin just watched silently, only chiming in every once in a while when something really caught his interest

at some point deep into a comfortably one sided conversation, your hand slid slightly and gently rested on his

you didnt notice, but oh god he did

he just stared at your hands and shifted uncomfortably but not in a disgusted or hateful way, more like a cautious and unsure way

it took a moment before you looked over and realized and you moved your hand back almost immediately

he just stared at you with those puppy eyes, mouth slightly open showing the tips of his front teeth (cute stuff yknow?)

You apologized but he just,,, stared. scanned you. observed you.

it took a moment before anyone spoke, and shockingly, it was him

"Its ok. your hands are warm.. s'okay. I promise." and he said it so soft and in that awkwardly boyish manner that he has

that made you smile gently, easing the tension, putting your hand back in its spot comfortably

it was a peaceful night and an even more peaceful comfort between you two

🗝Brahms Heelshire

the actual first time he touched you wasnt even when you were awake

that wall freak snuck into your room when you were asleep and petted you basically

but the first time when you were awake was when he decided it was finally time

he just couldnt wait to reveal himself any longer, he would go insane if he had to watch his goodnight kisses be wasted on some hollow porcelain again and again

he tried to be gentle, soft, tried not to scare you

of course you were damn near terrified to death

a tall and strangely muscular man just lumbered out of the wall, the very same walls youve spent months in between, months living with, and yet never once did you think they were a living space themselves

it took you time before you could calm down, painfully long before you even let brahms take a step closer to you

but when you let him, he was overjoyed

he gently grabbed you and nearly swallowed you with his arms, taking a very obvious and harsh sniff of your hair

that was the first of many lingering hugs and touches so you should probably adjust to this new life soon- for your own sanity

🔪RZ Michael Myers

oh, and make a new list of rules

you werent supposed to be there, actually

there was a halloween party going on at the myers house (and it wasnt even a good one smh)

you didnt want to go but your friends didnt want to walk alone (and they definitely needed a chaperone to walk them home)

so you walked them there, dropped them off, and gave them a time when youd be back to wrangle them (also chastising them for disrespecting the house and the myers family so horribly)

you had a nice evening to yourself, 0 worries, watching some slasher films alone (house of wax, wolf creek, house of 1000 corpses, yknow the good stuff)

time to get your friends unfortunately *sigh*

you turn off the tv and make your way to the myers house

there are.. a lot.. A LOT.. of police

in a panic you sprinted through every shortcut possible to make it there

one of those shortcuts was through bushes and in between neighboring houses fences

thats where you bumped into him

you looked up and froze, fear paralysis, staring at the blood splattered ghost white face- no- mask

from your end, you were sure you were gonna die

from michaels end, he didnt know what to do with you

he saw you ramble on about how these dumb drunks should just let the myers family rest and they were disrespecting them and blahblahblah

because of that he wasnt going to kill you

but here you guys are, body pressed on body, between bushes and fences, staring at eachother

he made the first move and you flinched and blocked your head with your arms instinctively

he didnt do anything, just left you there to collapse into a ball of fear and confusion

anyways he had to contemplate why he liked the warmth of your body against his so much (and why its been in his mind for weeks after the incident)

oh also ur friends are dead :p

🛎Norman Bates

you were just a normal guest

just passing through but it got late and it isnt safe to drive when youre so sleepy

so you pulled into the nearest motel you could find and low and behold its the bates motel!

you got your stuff and checked in

you just assumed norman was this shaky and nervous around everyone

norman knows hes not. at least not to the degree that you made him

god the moment he layed his little puppy dog eyes on you he was in shambles

you are the definition of what he desires

mothers pissed!

he helped you bring your stuff to your room and you guys talked about anything and everything

he invited you to eat dinner with him after you mentioned you hadnt eaten

you unfortunately refused because your exhausted tanked your hunger by a long shot

as he was going to leave you touched his arm gently, a friendly touch

you thanked him and he shakily gave a thank you back for choosing his motel and being so kind and being so gentle and for being so- he should really get going now before he rambles too much and loses his dignity, shouldnt he?

you laughed softly at his behavior and gave him a kind goodnight before closing the door and readying yourself to sleep

norman basically booked it back to his house

mother had an earful for him but he was so dazed and stupid from the things he was feeling for you

the absence of your warm fingertips on his arm made him crazy, he wanted longer touches and he wanted to feel that warmth endlessly

he was very adamant you stay in the bates motel again soon when you checked out the next morning (much to mothers dismay)

📱Kurt Kunkle

he was your spree driver (so unexpected ikr)

you got into his car when he pulled up and happily greeted him

he liked your kindness, he likes not awful people a ton

was real awkward with you but you didnt seem to mind (you were also a little awkward so it was like a mutual thing)

you asked him about the cameras and he told you it was for some webseries about safety as a driver or something (he said it very strangely so you kinda didnt trust him)

you leaned forward to talk with him more and you guys really hit it off

he thought you were cool, you thought he was a total weirdo

perfect match

the drive was painfully short though so you had to leave soon after you got in

when you got out you knocked on his window and complimented his service

you also gave him your number and he gladly took it

after exchanging numbers you placed your hand on his shoulder while thanking him

he went RED and stuttered out a 'your welcome' and also rambled about how hed love to drive you more often and stuff

after you left dude had to take a BREATHER

he wants you back in his car NEOW

rides the high that your touch gave him for the rest of the day (even a little bit the next day too)

[idontknowreallywhy]

Fathers Day 4 - The Other Father

(Parts 1-3)

This one has been brewing a fairly long time. The 3 short sections I posted a while ago form a perfectly good trilogy and we could happily leave it there…but I did sneak in a hint that a certain somebody overheard at least part of the conversation between Scott and his siblings.

And I’m determined to force Jeff to confront his many failings as a parent and make a start on sorting things out with his sons, especially the eldest. Haven’t quite got there yet (of course it would be terribly out of character for me to actually finish the story 🙄) but they are moving in the right direction at least.

It feels a little rougher than I’d like but I haven’t managed to post a whole chapter of anything for over a month and perhaps am a little wobbly on that score but… here goes…

🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙

Jeff hovered uncertainly outside the door to his eldest son’s bedroom, pretending to be minutely interested in the glued crack running down the doorframe through the locking mechanism and out the other side. There was probably a story behind that, an attentive father should probably ask about it… he started to raise a hand to knock but lost his nerve and continued to hover.

Well, truth be told, he wasn’t so much hovering as leaning very heavily on his cane like the frail old man he always swore he’d never be. Certainly not at his age. But he was uncertain (whilst leaning in a solid and definite way) about whether to do the thing he had been so very certain was a good idea an hour ago but about which, NOW… now he was here… at the door… at Scott’s door… he was suddenly deeply unsure.

Jeff didn’t really do unsure and uncertain. That had never been his style. He’d always been blessed with a great deal of confidence in the plans that came to him and that confidence was justified by the fact he usually pulled them off.

Nor was he the kind of man who stood in corridors staring at inanimate objects while engaging in a rambling inner monologue.

And yet, here he was…

It was amazing what eight years of solitary confinement on a rock could change.

🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙

One hour earlier…

🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙

He eased himself down on to the lounger and closed his eyes, trying to fix in his mind the new version of that sound he’d dreamed of for so long - the laughter of his children. All of them. Together. Happy. Safe. The glowing memory of it had sustained him for years. The fear that he might have somehow extinguished it for good had kept him awake in the dark for far more hours than the mundane concerns about food, oxygen supplies…

Survival.

The voices were deeper now than the ones he’d remembered. Not quite so familiar. But still so beloved. They were still his babies. Lucy’s babies. They’d just grown. A lot. In innumerable ways.

Slowly, so as not to overbalance when gravity tugged at him, he leaned over and felt around underneath the seat to retrieve what he’d initially assumed was a piece of litter but now knew with a prescient certainty was going to be incredibly important.

“It was always you…”

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. Or sneak around like a teenager. He was supposed to be in bed but he’d found himself desperate to breathe oxygen rich but un-climate-controlled air for a few moments. As the lingering agoraphobia of the depths of infinite space warred with the claustrophobia born of the small liveable portion of the Zero-X that had been his entire world, Jeff had found his heart rate increasing and knew he wouldn’t sleep without proving to himself once more what the sea breeze felt like on his face.

And he’d snuck down the back stairs because they’d hear his balcony door open and come to check.

Then he’d have to explain.

If he explained, they’d just worry.

And today of all days, when the void between what he knew he was and what he desperately wanted to be to them all had loomed and sucked at him so hungrily… Well. How could he ever be their Daddy again if they had to be looking after him all the time? It was all backwards.

It had been so long since he’d been a Daddy. Far longer than the time he’d been stranded. He had been a good parent, once upon a time. Lucy had said so and he’d always trusted her judgment. To Scott and Virgil anyway. With John he’d done his best too, albeit the boy could rarely be persuaded to leave his mother’s side, but they’d had a decent relationship.

And there had been a time he was Daddy to five. Little Gordon chattering away at his knee while baby Alan’s bright blue eyes peered up at him from the impossibly tiny bundle in his arms. Lucy’s chin on his shoulder, her cheek brushing against his own… he’d known his place in the world, they were blessed with the privilege of raising these little ones together.

And then she was gone. And somehow everything good about Jeff went with her. Including Daddy.

He’d as good as orphaned them back then, eight whole years before it became official.

Eight more years to regret it after that.

Miraculously he now had his much longed-for chance to make it right. But for all the thinking and regretting and self analysis of those castaway years, he still wasn’t entirely sure where to start. He knew what he had to mend, he knew when and why it had all broken, but not how to fix it, if it was even fixable at all.

And now in light of what he’d heard, he realised that whatever “fixed” was, it might look rather different from what he’d spent all those years imagining.

And if he had been more honest with himself… he’d always known that. He let the card fall open in his lap.

“Still true.”

It was. It was absolutely true. Gordon and Alan were Scott’s kids, in all the ways that mattered. They knew it. Jeff knew it. And for all his desire to compensate for the time they had lost, he knew with absolute clarity he did not want to replace their eldest brother’s place in their lives. He had no right to.

He had no desire to. Not now.

He needed to make sure Scott knew that. His knees creaked as he shot decisively to his feet and he staggered slightly before snatching up the cane propped against the back of the lounger and making his purposeful… alright, shuffling way towards his old office.

He needed to find a pen.

🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙

And so here he was by the doorway, the card tucked into the pocket of his bathrobe, trying to think of an opening line. Some appropriate words to broach the subject.

Jeff Tracy was pretty good with words.

He used to be king of the press conference, inspirational teacher of young astronauts. A dreamer of big dreams that could recruit almost anyone to his cause given time. He was used to being in command. When he spoke, people listened.

Yes, Jeff Tracy could make words work for him. With strangers, anyway.

With family it was different.

Especially with one in particular.

Oh, he and Scott had talked a lot. When he was home from space tiny-Scott had been his shadow, trailing him around with his excited, bouncy hop-skip drinking in all his father’s adventure stories. In fairness some of those maybe became just a little exaggerated by the lure of the warm feeling the admiration in those sparkling blue eyes created.

As time had passed the skip-hop evolved into a leggy teenage stride, precisely matched to Jeff’s own. There was less bounce in it, but the sparkle was still there. The constant reminder to Jeff Tracy that he was admired far more than he really deserved to be.

But then it had all gone wrong.

Part of the problem with Scott was he looked like Lucy. He didn’t resemble her much at all, physically - Jeff’s firstborn was pretty much a clone of himself, everyone said as much. No. It was that he looked the way she had. When he was really looking. Something about the intensity of his gaze… the colour of Scott’s eyes may have been from Jeff but the power of them was all her. It was like facing down a strangely warming X-ray.

Yes, the issue Jeff had was that Lucy looked at him out of his eldest son’s eyes and it made him confused and lonely... and so very uncertain about everything that was important.

About whether he could do any of this alone.

About whether he had got a single thing right since she’d gone.

It had made him defensive and short with his son. And when he snapped at Scott, when the same uncertainty, the same confused loneliness was reflected back at him… that chased her away and replaced her image with only himself and he couldn’t bear it.

So he stopped looking.

And so as Scott took on her role, as his son parented far better than the father had the capacity to manage, Jeff backed away and allowed him to do it. He’d let his teenage son be father to his children while he hid away inside himself and focussed on the things that Jeff had been able to do long before he ever met her - he inspired strangers, he dreamed, he commanded.

And Scott had grown up way too fast. And Jeff couldn’t fix it.

There were some short conversations that came close to the one they really needed to have in the aftermath of the Bereznik situation, when Jeff had feared he’d lost his eldest boy for good. But the important words had got stuck in his throat and he’d had to settle for an affectionate pat on the shoulder. Scott had seemed to feel safer with Virgil present anyway and his second son was incredibly protective of his big brother… of course that hadn’t been conducive to bringing up more difficult topics. Although Jeff knew he could have engineered the circumstances if he’d had the nerve. By the time Scott had recovered and they’d both thrown themselves into the Big Project, the moment seemed to have passed.

So they talked Tracy household admin, school admin. Most of all, they talked about the Project, Scott almost as excited as he was about that. His son admired and encouraged and gently challenged him in exactly the way his mother would have. It worked.

It was comfortable. And Jeff had been too much of a coward to make it uncomfortable.

He’d been home nearly two months and he’d nearly missed his chance again.

Not this time.

He raised his hand once more and let his knuckles fall against the door.

🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙

“Scott?”

“Yes, EOS?” His reply was muffled somewhat by a mouthful of toothpaste.

“Your father has been stood outside your door for seven point five minutes.”

Some of the toothpaste migrated to his pyjama shirt. “What?! He should be in bed!”

“And yet he is currently located in the corridor. Just thought you’d like to know.”

“Is he ok?”

“His heart rate is a little elevated but his other vitals seem as healthy as they have proved in recent weeks.”

“I… ok, alright. Thanks for telling me.”

“Of course.”

Scott scrubbed pointlessly at the mark on his shirt and headed out of his en-suite towards the hallway door, where he paused and compulsively tidied his hair.

He reached for the door handle then jumped out of his skin as a loud knock sounded inches from his face.

🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙

TBC when Jeff can work out how to start the conversation ;)

[angelicsoka]

THE MOVE, l. hughes

part one <3

word count | 0.8k

pairings | luke hughes x best friend!reader, platonic!jack & quinn hughes x reader

summary | its time for you to leave for college, and time for feelings to be revealed

warnings | not proofread. no use of “y/n”. lowercase intended. this is a work of fiction, i am by no means saying this is how they act in real life.

a/n | and here is the highly requested part two to prom night!

the day you had been dreading for months was approaching, leaving you strung up with anxiety. it was the day you were set to move from michigan to indiana to attend the university of notre dame. you had spent the last week packing everything you had planned on taking with you, going through clothes and pictures. you had spent a lot of that time, crying and reminiscing. you were beginning to regret committing to the university, your nerves taking over. 

when you weren't packing, you were spending time with luke and your mutual friends, hoping to settle the pit in your stomach. luke was not doing any better than you, only he hid it better. he had been plucking up the courage to admit his feelings, only to be brought down by the thoughts of you being so far away from him, surrounded by fraternity brothers and sorority sisters. he feared the rejection that may come and he feared having to see you with somebody who wasn't him. 

it was the night before you were set to leave; luke had brought over take out, the two of you set to have a movie night. you two were no longer paying attention to the movie, too focused on chatting, reminiscing. “lukey, can i tell you something?” luke nodded, his attention entirely on you.  “i’m not sure i want to leave. this last month all i have felt when i think about leaving is anxiety. what if i’m making a mistake?” she tried to ignore the quiver in her voice, willing the tears to not fall. luke, who was the king of being oblivious, noted the quiver and tears, pulling you into a hug.

“it’ll be okay.” the dam broke, tears silently streaming down your cheeks. “you’ll have the time of your life! plus, if you don't like it, you can always transfer to umich!” luke felt you laugh; he had been trying to get you to go to umich since you had gotten the acceptance letter but notre dame was your dream school. “i’m always a call away.”

you smiled, coming to rest against luke’s chest. you didn't even try to fight off the sleep, finding comfort in your best friend’s arms. luke, however, was not able to sleep that night. instead he laid there, trying to hold onto the content he felt with you in his arms. trying to get the courage to tell you the truth, preferably while you were awake. 

luke helped your father carry your boxes to the car as you fought jack who was attempting to steal one of your many funko pops. “jackson rowden hughes! that is my funko pop! put it down!” you gave chase when he took off running, grabbing the water hose, aiming and firing at him. he shrieked, dropping the figurine, a shocked look on his face.

“how dare you!” you could hear ellen and your mom laughing, jack stalking toward you with a cheshire smile on his face. you held the hose up again in defense, but jack still ran at you. you dropped the hose, barely dodging jack as you ran to luke for protection. luke stood in front of you protectively, jack standing with his hands on hips when he realized he wouldn't be able to get past luke. “of course! running to your boyfriend to protect you.” he smirked devilishly, heat spreading to your cheeks. your mouth was agape, shocked at jack’s words. you began to stutter out a response, backing away from luke. 

“well, someone has to protect her from your dumbass.” luke stated simply, turning to put another box in your car. by now, it was just you, luke, and jack outside, leaving you to be openly shocked. he didn't deny it. you didn’t see jack sneak away to grab quinn. 

“lu?” you questioned, luke avoiding your gaze. “luke warren hughes, look at me damnit!” luke sighed, turning to face you. “tell me that was nothing. tell me that you didn’t deny it because it was just a stupid comment.”

“well, then i’d be lying.” you looked at him with confusion. luke stepped toward you, closing the gap between the two of you with a feverish kiss. as quick as it started, it was over. luke went to apologize, but you simply gripped his collar, pulling him back into the kiss.

“goddamnit!” you broke the kiss, turning to see quinn pulling out his wallet and handing jack a hundred dollars. “i’m disappointed in you.” quinn pointed to you.

“you were betting on us?”

“we weren’t the only ones.” jack motioned to you parents who were receiving money from jim and ellen. luke laughed at your shocked look, turning your head to kiss you once more.

“okay, okay, that's enough! get a room!”    

[somber-sapphic]

Was wondering if I would be ok to request a sick reader with Wandanat where readers just come out of surgery (could be for anything, like injured on a mission, wisdom teeth etc) and they’re kind of loopy still, not really sure if it counts as a sick fix though so I don’t mind if it’s not your thing 😅

A Little Less Wisdom

〖Notes: Okay, I had my wisdom teeth out a few months ago and I thought I'd be funny after waking up. NO. I just cried. I cried a lot. And then I got confused and hit my ride home. It was a long day.〗

〖Summary: You need your wisdom teeth out.〗

〖Word Count: 1320〗

〖Pairing: Wandanat x Sick Reader〗

☾Masterlists☽

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Out of all of the problems you could face as a superhero, ‘impacted wisdom teeth’ was never on your list. It hadn’t even crossed your mind; it just wasn’t something you’d ever believed that you’d need to worry about. Maybe there was a part of you that considered the possibility, but when there were so many other more dangerous things to worry about dental health didn’t really make the top hundred.

But two weeks ago, when your girlfriends had noticed the way you were avoiding hard foods and the copious amounts of over-the-counter pain meds you were taking, they finally said something. It really didn’t click to you that anything was wrong until Natasha had brought it up, a look on her face that betrayed her true concern.

Once they had completed their makeshift intervention, you began to notice the real pain in your mouth and began to wonder how exactly you had ignored it in the first place. Your best guess was that something was always hurting from one battle or another, that this one just didn’t seem too pressing. That sprained ankle had been a worse issue than the tooth pain. Until you noticed it, of course.

After a checkup from Dr. Helen Cho (who reiterated over and over again that she was not a dentist) and a few x-rays later, you were found to have “severely impacted” wisdom teeth. Not just regularly impacted, but severely. Not only that, but it was all four of them. You didn’t do anything in halves.

Wanda had been shocked at how well you had been hiding your discomfort, while Natasha was more focused on helping you to feel better. She wanted you to have surgery as quickly as possible, stating her concerns about possible complications and expected recovery time.

This was her way of expressing her love, getting overly caught up on details, and making sure that everything was 100% taken care of so that neither you nor Wanda had to worry. She was a wonderful girlfriend.

The day of the surgery came and went, a mission getting in the way of your dental care. This didn’t particularly bother you, part of you (as embarrassed as you felt) was incredibly nervous about the operation. You had read up about it in secret and had learned about every single complication ever recorded in human history.

This was, of course, a bad idea. Now you were panicking about dry-socket, nerve damage, infection, and possible death as a result of the anesthetic. The idea of being completely out of control of your surroundings was not one that you particularly enjoyed.

Unfortunately, beings who wanted to destroy the human race could only keep you from getting your wisdom teeth out for so long. The day arrived and you were mildly freaking out about it. Wanda, who could literally sense your emotions, had been trying to keep you calm by distracting you with silly little tasks and offering small comforts.

Natasha was less subtle about her attempts to soothe you; she straight up hadn’t left your side the whole day. She kept murmuring reassurances to you while you watched some dumb TV show and had even done research of her own to combat what you had found. She combatted your fear with love and statistics. These two very different ways of trying to make you feel less anxious were working very well together to put you at ease.

You lay back in the dentist’s chair and stared with panic-filled eyes at your loving girlfriends who were hovering in the doorway, unable to enter the sterile field. Suddenly, a very loud thought filled your head.

It’s all going to be okay. Breathe. We’ll be right here. You’ll be okay.

It was hard to describe how it felt when Wanda projected a thought into your mind. You could tell that it wasn’t a thought of your own, it had a comforting feeling. A soft, gentle, loving feeling. It put you at ease more than the intravenous anesthetic that was being pumped into your body.

The last thing you felt as you closed your eyes was that lingering emotion that Wanda had pushed into your mind.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“They’re waking up,” Natasha murmured, nudging Wanda slightly. The witch looked up from her phone where she had been anxiously tapping away at some game, a look of relief flooding her face. The two women stared down at you, both smiling as your beautiful e/c eyes fluttered open.

“Hey sweetie, how are you feeling?” Wanda cooed softly, reaching out to brush a few strands of hair out of your lashes. You opened your mouth as if about to speak, but then closed it again. You repeated the motion a few times, your eyebrows furrowing slightly as you started to reach up for your mouth.

“No no no, let’s not do that. We’ve gotta leave that alone for now, okay?” The brunette chastised, quickly pulling your hand away. You pulled a pout, but the time it took for you to actually change your expression was absolutely hilarious. It took you a full five seconds to register that something had been said and react to it.

“Mh mufh iffmahds.” You mumbled around the gauze, the words you were trying to say lost around the cotton fabric stuffed into your mouth. Natasha leaned forward and bent down to kiss your head, leaving her lips there for a few moments to express her relief. She knew that nothing bad would happen to you, but the anxiety was always going to be there.

“Just rest baby, we’ll talk when you’re a little more awake.” She said kindly, grabbing Wanda’s hand as your eyes fell closed again. The redhead turned to her and grinned before kissing her soft pink lips.

“They’ll be okay Wands.” She reassured, resting her forehead against Wanda’s.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The peace of you being sort of asleep only lasted for twenty or so minutes. This time when you woke back up, you were ready to go. You quite literally came up swinging, your eyes wide and yelling something that neither of your girlfriends could understand through the gauze.

“Woah! Calm down, it’s alright babe, it’s okay.” Natasha said, reaching over to grab your fists.

“The chicken! The chicken’s comin’!” You cried, forcing the words out as you struggled against the grasp of your concerned girlfriend.

“What are you talking about? There’s no chicken!” The redhead replied, sounding frantic as she dodged a kick aimed at her face. You weren’t fully coherent, but your fighting skills were still very much intact. You had trained for this and were using your training to keep yourself safe from the aforementioned chicken.

“Robot chickens! So many, too many, can’t do it, gotta go!” You spat out, starting to get out of the reclining chair. You made it halfway up before falling back again, not entirely prepared for the weight of gravity. Gravity was hard.

“Y/n, Y/n. Listen to me. There are no chickens, okay? We’re in medical, you had surgery, and it’s all okay. Relax babes. You’re safe. It's just Nat and me.” Wanda soothed, putting every bit of calming energy into her voice. She felt bad for using witchcraft on you to alter your emotions, but she needed to calm you down as quickly as possible.

Thankfully, it worked. You sat back and relaxed, your body going limp against Natasha’s. You quite literally fell against your favorite assassin but remained conscious this time, breathing heavily as you relaxed again.

“I don’t like poultry.” You grumbled, nuzzling your face into Natasha’s shoulder. The redhead laughed softly, and Wanda let out a weary sigh, a grin spreading over her face. The operation was over, but it was becoming more and more obvious that that had been the easy part. Now they had to deal with an incredibly confused, slightly high you who would probably remember absolutely none of this.

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[yourownutopia]

╰┈➤ In the midst of a critical mission to protect Eren, [Y/N] shoulders the weight of leadership while haunted by Levi’s trust and unspoken fears. As Titans close in and comrades fall, [Y/N] is driven by the desire to prove her worth and protect Levi’s hope, even at the cost of her own life.

┊ Levi x Fem! Reader ┊ Character Deaths ┊ Angst ┊

An old one-shot I just had to post solo. 😄 I know there are a few mistakes, but I hope you'll still enjoy it. If you have any feedback, please leave me a review. ❤️

"Hey, [Y/n], are you coming?"

You turned to see Eren, who had stopped and was waiting for you.

You smiled faintly and walked over to your teammate. You got along really well with the brown-haired Titan shifter, even though you were much older than him.

"Yessss~," you called out cheerfully and rejoined the group, which consisted of Connie, Sasha, Mikasa, Armin, Jean, Eren, and yourself.

You were glad to have them all by your side.

The group was heading back to the camp to eat and prepare for tomorrow's mission. Commander Erwin had decided to delay passing through the forest until the next day—it was too dangerous in the dark. Even though Titans weren’t typically active at night, he didn’t want to take any risks.

After dinner, you settled down with the others by the fire, staring into the flames. Your thoughts swirled, but they kept returning to the mission awaiting you tomorrow.

The mission was simple: bring Eren safely back to the walls.

But that day, an abnormal Titan had wiped out a third of your soldiers.

You were convinced it was another Titan shifter. Armin suspected a particular girl—Annie Leonhardt, you thought, though you weren’t entirely sure. Levi and Erwin kept the details to themselves to prevent rumors. But Levi trusted you.

He shared this information for one reason: to make you be careful.

Ever since you joined the Survey Corps, Levi had been keeping an eye on you, as he later admitted. From the beginning, you’d been in his squad. You ended up doing most of the punishments under him and receiving special training because, apparently, he’d seen “potential” in you.

Over time, you grew accustomed to him. You knew Levi didn’t want to fall in love, and neither did you. Besides, you couldn’t imagine him ever being interested in you. You were just one of many—a woman with no extraordinary talents, or so you thought. But Levi had always seen you as different from the others.

At some point, you had to admit it: you’d fallen for him.

And it was tearing you apart.

You hated yourself for it—for falling in love at all.

You had always avoided building close relationships, terrified of the pain of losing someone. You’d experienced it before, and it haunted you. Watching people die every day filled you with dread. You’d grown used to it, of course. But, like Levi, you couldn’t stop caring, no matter how much you wished you could.

A few months after joining the Survey Corps, you went through a terrible phase. The mental strain overwhelmed you. Night after night, you cried yourself to sleep.

You had nightmares, rarely slept properly, barely ate, and felt disconnected all the time. The lack of rest and nourishment took a toll on your body. Your skin grew paler, dark rings formed under your eyes, and you lost a lot of weight.

Everyone was worried about you. They tried to cheer you up, encouraged you to eat, but nothing worked. Your focus waned, and during one mission, you narrowly escaped death.

-‘๑’-

“[L/n], what the hell are you doing?!”

You lay on the ground, wide-eyed and staring blankly into the sky. Your life had just flashed before your eyes. Exhaustion had dulled your reflexes, and you’d failed to notice the abnormal Titan approaching your group.

You fired a flare far too late, and the Titan wiped out nearly your entire squad. It grabbed you, its grip crushing the air from your lungs as you choked. Staring into the monster’s grotesque face, you saw its mouth opening wide, ready to devour you.

You had already accepted death, your life flashing by like a Film in fast-forward.

Then, just as you gave up resisting, you heard the familiar whir of 3DM gear. A shadow darted behind the Titan, and its grip on you loosened. The creature fell, steaming as it hit the ground, and you landed roughly on the rocky terrain.

Too shocked to cry, you lay there trembling. Your blood pounded in your ears, your heart racing wildly. You hugged yourself, trying to steady your shaking body.

A shadow loomed over you, footsteps approaching. You didn’t look up, too consumed by shame. It was your fault your squad had died.

Levi knelt before you, his harsh voice barely registering through your daze. You didn’t respond. Not until a stinging slap snapped you out of your shock.

“Pull yourself together, dammit.”

You hadn’t noticed Levi gripping your shoulders, shaking you slightly. But it worked—you returned to reality. You nodded, and the two of you whistled for your horses.

When you returned within the walls that evening, the crowd jeered at you, throwing insults and even objects. Some begged for news of their children, siblings, spouses.

On the outskirts of the crowd, you saw two children watching you with admiration, their smiles full of awe. Normally, you would have smiled back, inspired by their belief in you. But today, you couldn’t. You were too broken. You simply stared ahead, your expression grim, tuning out the voices around you.

They didn’t understand what it meant to face a Titan.

To see comrades—no, friends—die before your eyes, yet rise again to fight another day.

-‘๑’-

It was late at night, and you were sitting on your bed, staring at the floor in deep thought.

Your body was still trembling slightly from the tension.

You had hoped that despite your current condition, you would still be allowed to remain in the Scouts and continue to help. But today, because of you, a dozen people had lost their lives—simply because you weren’t in top physical and mental form.

The decision wasn’t an easy one, but you knew it was best to desert.

With a heavy sigh, you stood up and left your room.

The hallways were, as expected, deathly quiet and dark, save for a few torches lighting the long corridor.

You knew Levi would still be awake.

So you made your way to his office and knocked softly.

Silence.

In that case, you’d write him a letter, pack your things, and leave.

Just as you were about to turn away, his deep voice called out from inside the room.

“Name and reason,” his typically monotone voice sounded.

“[Y/N] [L/N], um—”

“Come in,” his voice interrupted before you could explain your reason.

You reached for the polished door handle and pushed it open.

Levi was leaning against the window, arms crossed, watching the rain. It was as if the sky itself was crying, mourning for humanity.

You quietly closed the door behind you and stood in Front of his desk.

“I want to thank you for saving me today,” you said, your voice a little hoarse as you looked at him.

Levi waved it off, turning his head toward you. His cool, gray eyes bore into your dull [E/C] ones.

“That’s not all, is it? There must be another reason why you’re showing up here at such a late hour.”

Caught, you nodded and nervously clasped your hands behind your back.

“Y-Yeah, uh…” You swallowed the lump in your throat.

“Get to the point.”

“I want to leave the Scouts,” you finally said, watching his face to see how he would react.

But Levi wouldn’t be Levi if he made it that easy.

He merely furrowed his eyebrows and stared at you.

“Why?” he asked after a long silence, pushing himself off the wall. He took a few steps closer, observing you intently.

You averted your gaze to avoid his piercing stare.

“It’s not important.”

“It is to me.”

You looked up, taken aback. That wasn’t what you had expected.

“Because…” you trailed off. What were you supposed to say? Pour your heart out to your superior? Definitely not. Levi had his own problems to deal with.

“Did you lose your nerve?” he asked, the corner of his mouth twitching briefly, if only for a millisecond.

“No! I—it’s just that I…” You searched for the right words but couldn’t figure out how to express yourself so he’d understand.

“I think my mind just can’t handle it anymore,” you admitted with a heavy sigh, meeting Levi’s neutral gaze as he looked down at you.

Though he wasn’t particularly tall, your 1.54-meter stature made you feel like a Gnome.

“T-Today, countless people died under my command.”

“It wasn’t your fault. I��ve already told you that several times. I thought you’d finally understood that,” Levi said, bracing a hand on his desk.

“I-I know, and I did understand… but this time, it really was my fault,” you said, feeling tears well up in your eyes as you quickly let your bangs fall over your face.

“I was just too unfocused, too sleep-deprived, and—” You sniffled briefly, hot tears rolling down your cheeks.

“I gave the signal to change direction too late. I was responsible…! I just don’t know how to deal with it anymore—” Your words were cut off by another sob, your body trembling.

“They died under my command, Levi!” you cried out, looking up and directly into his gray eyes.

For the first time in a long while, he felt guilty.

He had thought you could handle it when he put you in charge of the team. He believed you could bear the burden—but clearly, you couldn’t.

“I can’t risk other people’s lives because of my problems! It’s better if I leave,” you said, pressing your hand to your eyes and biting your lower lip to stifle another sob. Instead, a pitiful whimper escaped your throat as you felt two strong arms gently wrap around you.

The dark-haired man didn’t know how else to respond. He wasn’t often faced with crying women he liked—especially not this close.

Your pale fingers clutched at his gray shirt as you let your tears flow freely.

“If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. I’m the one who gave you command. Besides, everyone has to carry this burden—and you’re strong, which is why I know you can handle it. I’ll stay by your side. You’re not alone—don’t forget that.”

Through your tears, you managed a faint smile.

To Levi, it felt like an eternity before your trembling finally subsided and your tears dried.

At some point, you must have passed out from exhaustion, because the next morning, you didn’t wake up in your own room.

The two of you often met at night to talk, and it helped you tremendously.

Soon, you started eating properly again.

If nightmares woke you in the middle of the night, you’d go to him. He stayed by your side until you fell asleep.

Your strength gradually returned, and you could once again give your best on missions. You never lost focus again.

All in all, Levi had saved your life—not just your body but also your soul, which was slowly healing.

To this day, you weren’t quite sure what kind of relationship the two of you had, but it didn’t matter.

As long as you could be together, it didn’t matter whether you were a couple or not.

You smiled contentedly, staring into the flames of the warm campfire before closing your eyes and drifting into the land of dreams.

-‘๑’-

The next morning, everyone was up before sunrise, packing their belongings so that you could depart as soon as the sun rose.

You sat on your horse, Eren just behind you. To his left and right were Mike and Auro. Petra brought up the rear, ensuring Eren was most protected in the center.

Levi would follow later, though it didn’t sit well with him to entrust you with such a large responsibility.

At first, he had asked Petra if she wanted to take command, but you stepped in and took the responsibility yourself.

“You have to get Eren through the forest and protect him with your lives. Do you understand?” Erwin looked at each of you intently.

“Yes, sir!” the four of you replied in unison.

“We depart in 30 seconds.” With that, Erwin moved away from your group.

“Please don’t die, [Y/N],” Levi said quietly, looking at you.

“Believe in me,” you replied with a warm smile.

He nodded, giving you a brief, soft look before riding back to Erwin.

The last time he had heard those words, the most precious people in his life had spread their wings and flown straight to heaven.

Now, too, he had a sinking feeling in his gut, warning him against leaving you alone—but he had no choice.

The signal to depart sounded, and you all rode out.

Apart from the clatter of hooves, the wind rustling through the leaves, and the birds cheerfully singing their songs, everything was silent.

You didn’t hear any footsteps or feel the ground tremble.

Erwin stayed back with the other troops, riding along the left and right flanks of the forest.

The purpose of this mission was to confuse Annie, who was clearly after Eren, and lure her onto a false trail.

She was among one of the outer troops, and Levi was tasked with keeping an eye on her.

That’s why he hadn’t joined you.

With Levi and the other troops, everything seemed fine. He kept an eye on Annie, making sure she didn’t slip away unnoticed.

“Titans!” someone shouted, pointing to a group of eight Titans of varying sizes.

Mikasa glanced at Levi, who nodded, and the troops prepared to engage.

Some soldiers fell in battle, but in the end, they managed to kill all the Titans and re-form their ranks.

But moments later, a yellow flash lit up the sky. Thunder cracked loudly, and the ground shook beneath them.

Levi turned his head in every direction, only to realize that the blonde was no longer among the recruits.

“Damn it,” he muttered, pulling his reins sharply to head toward the forest. But another group of Titans emerged from the trees, blocking his way.

He had no choice but to fight.

“[Y/N], stay alive until I get there,” he thought grimly.

Relief washed over everyone as you neared the forest’s edge, with no major incidents so far.

You, too, were relieved—but something about the situation still felt off. It had been so quiet the entire time.

You hadn’t heard any flares signaling for help or any calls to retreat.

Your suspicion proved correct. Before long, the ground trembled, and fast footsteps approached.

To your left, trees toppled over, and a massive foot swept over your heads.

You all looked up in horror, meeting the icy blue eyes of the Titan, who leapt over you and came to an abrupt stop.

You spurred your horses to their limits, pushing them as fast as they could go. The Titan would soon be on your heels.

“Turn!” you shouted, yanking your horse’s reins to change direction. The others followed your lead.

You could still feel the ground quaking under the Titan’s steps, but it remained out of sight. Following your orders, your group zigzagged through the forest until you eventually returned to the main path.

You all exhaled in relief, the adrenaline beginning to fade.

You thought you’d lost her, but you were wrong.

A few minutes later, the footsteps returned. Glancing behind, you saw her closing in again—fast.

“I could transform into a Titan and protect us!” Eren called out, looking ahead to you.

“Do you trust me?” you asked, turning your head toward him.

“Yes, but—”

“Then don’t question me.”

Eren wasn’t satisfied with your answer, but he knew he had to trust you.

“[Y/N], what should we do?” Petra called out to you, with Mike and Auro giving you expectant looks as well.

They awaited orders—orders that wouldn’t send them to their deaths.

But you said nothing. You simply kept riding straight ahead, the Titan gaining on you with every passing second. It would soon reach you.

“[Y/N]!!” Petra’s voice was panicked. She was scared because you remained silent.

Auro and Mike were growing impatient too.

“[Y/N], say something, damn it!” Auro turned back, his voice tense, before looking ahead again.

Eren was on the verge of biting his hand to transform into a Titan, but your earlier words echoed in his mind.

You closed your eyes, thinking about what Levi would do in your place.

The Titan had finally caught up to you.

“[Y/N]!!” Petra screamed, shrill and terrified, as the Female Titan reached out its massive hand toward you.

“SWITCH TO 3DM GEAR!” you shouted, leaping off your horse.

The others followed your lead, the Titan’s hand swiping through empty air. You hurried, using your 3DM gear with all the gas you could muster, pushing your speed to the limit.

Eren led the group, you close behind, with your teammates trailing at the rear.

But Annie wasn’t stupid. She pursued relentlessly and managed to grab Auro’s wire. With brutal force, she hurled him to the ground, his body crushed upon impact.

You knew sacrifices would be necessary, so you kept your focus entirely on Eren. He had to survive, no matter if your entire team—including you—perished.

A piercing scream rang out, deafening you, and you turned just in time to see Petra kicked against a tree by the Titan. Blood sprayed everywhere, painting the tree and the ground around it.

There was no time to mourn. The Titan was still chasing you.

You turned back to Eren.

“Eren, listen to me. We’re turning back now. I’ll hold her off as long as I can while you fly ahead and find Levi. Do you understand me?”

His shocked, wide eyes met yours, and he shook his head vehemently. He thought this was his fault.

“I won’t let anyone die if I can save them. I’ll transform into a Titan and save you! I won’t let you die!”

“DON’T QUESTION ME‘‘, you yelled, your voice trembling with hysteria and fear. There was no room for arguments anymore.

“Do you trust me or not?”

You didn’t even trust yourself. You were terrified of dying, but Petra and the others had died for Eren. They believed in you.

You would believe too.

You couldn’t face Levi with tears in your eyes, admitting you’d failed. You wanted him to be proud of you.

You wanted to be useful.

Eren reluctantly gave in, nodding sadly.

“Good. I’ll count down from three, and then we’ll change direction. Got it?”

Eren nodded again, preparing himself.

“Three.” Your hands gripped the controls of your gear, targeting a suitable spot.

“Two.” Your heart pounded wildly against your chest as you took a deep breath.

“One.” Your hands trembled, damp with sweat.

“Go!”

You fired your hooks into the trees on either side, slowing down. Eren followed suit.

Using the remaining momentum, you pushed backward, just as you’d hoped. The Titan hadn’t anticipated the maneuver and barreled past you.

But she skidded to a halt and turned sharply, preparing to give chase once again.

You signaled to Eren to keep going no matter what happened, and he nodded, focusing on the path ahead.

You managed to gain some distance, but the Titan was quickly closing in again.

It was your time now.

You stopped using gas, intentionally slowing down. She would think you’d run out.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw her massive hand reaching for you.

But just before she could grab you, you fired your hooks into her torso and shoulder blade—one blade reversed, exactly as Levi had taught you.

Using incredible speed, you spun along her arm, slicing deep into her flesh.

Her icy blue eyes followed you closely, and before long, her arm hung limp at her side.

You aimed for her nape, but just as your blades touched her skin, a crystal layer formed, shattering your weapons.

You immediately replaced them, cutting into her body again—her arms, her eyes to blind her, and down her leg.

But she caught you in the end, squeezing your body tightly in her massive grip.

Before losing consciousness, you threw your blades with all your strength at her heel, causing her to stumble and crash to the ground with a thunderous noise.

The next moment, all you felt was searing pain.

-‘๑’-

Levi flew at breakneck speed through the treetops, desperately hoping to find you alive.

He had a sinking feeling in his gut but clung to hope, fragile as it was.

Even if it could shatter like a soap bubble, he needed to see for himself.

Unless he saw your lifeless body with his own eyes, he wouldn’t believe you were gone.

As he neared the location where his comrades had fallen, he saw it—a body dangling lifelessly in the air, blood splattered everywhere.

Time seemed to slow as he flew past the corpses of his team members.

Petra’s bloodied body leaned against a tree, her head tilted skyward, her eyes cold and lifeless.

In that instant, all his hope disappeared.

But so did his other emotions.

Fear for you and the sorrow welling up inside him were suppressed by cold reason.

The sky began to weep.

Then he saw it—a massive, steaming skeleton sprawled on the ground, its flesh barely clinging to its bones.

Beside it lay a human body.

Levi landed and approached slowly. He could already see your [h/c] hair, matted with dirt and blood. Your uniform was soaked with blood, and your body was broken.

His steps faltered as he dropped to his knees beside you. He gently turned you onto your back.

Your half-open eyes and slightly parted lips made it seem like you had wanted to say something.

Your body was still warm. You hadn’t been gone long.

Levi rested your head on his lap, gripping your uniform as tears silently fell, landing on your bloodied cheek.

They mingled with the rain, now falling harder.

“Believe in me.”

He had believed in you and lost you.

But you’d done your best—you’d given your life to carry out his orders.

He was proud of you, and you knew that.

Gently, he closed your eyes and mouth with his fingers.

Levi tilted his head back, releasing a short cry of despair before lowering his gaze again.

He softly stroked your hair, your serene face looking like you were peacefully asleep.

“Heichou,” Eren said, his voice trembling. Levi turned his head toward the brunette, who was wiping tears from his face, appearing behind a nearby tree.

Eren stepped closer as Levi gently laid your head on the grass and stood up.

“She did everything right,” Eren said, attempting to smile at the Corporal.

“Her orders were absolutely correct. She saved my life‘‘, he added, looking down at the [h/c]-haired girl.

“We should go,” Levi said, standing up.

Eren nodded, glancing down at you one last time before following Levi’s lead.

Levi smiled faintly, looking back at you before taking to the skies.

“I’m proud of you, [Y/N].”

“[Y/N], are you coming? We should go,” Petra called out, smiling at her friend.

You smiled back briefly, nodding. “I’m coming!”

You spread your wings and joined the others, forever at Levi’s side, watching over him.

Petra and you flew to his left, while Auro and Mike stayed on his right.

We’ll be your wings.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Hello)) Blame this on my grandma, I watched too many soap operas with her growing and we still do it 😂

So basically 2022 James x younger reader maybe she was his sponsor after he got out of rehab after 2019 relapse and she stayed him him during the pandemic (let’s pretend he divorced earlier than 2022, im not a home wrecker) and obviously it evolved into romance. Since he got vasectomy, they kinda weren’t very careful with protection, but it’s actually proven that these can fail, so she finds out she’s pregnant. Of course he doesn’t believe her and thinks she cheated and demands a DNA test. Having no options and feeling betrayed by his behavior, she moves out and they do a tests a few months later. Of course it comes back confirming he’s the father, but she also sends him something like NDA saying that she will never file for child support and will not disclose him as the father + the note that she doesn’t want to do anything with him as he betrayed her by accusing her of cheating. So the moment they have a break in tour he comes to beg for forgiveness? It takes her a while but she finds the strength to forgive him? And then she even joins them on tour and even goes to labour at the end of one of their shows (that’s actually happened with one of the fans)

Damn those TV shows did make sure my fantasies run wild 🫢

Don’t worry, how many times watching a series I made a lot of mental films (and it’s better not to know them🤭) I hope you will like it!❤

A New Beginning

I could still hear the echo of the accusations in my head, ringing louder than the sound of the tour buses or the distant crowds that gathered for Metallica’s show tonight. “You cheated, didn’t you? You couldn’t have gotten pregnant by me… it’s impossible!”

I closed my eyes, trying to suppress the flood of hurt that still rose in my chest every time I thought about it. I’d never cheated, never given him a reason to doubt me. I had stood by him through his darkest moments, through rehab, through the pandemic lockdowns when the world felt like it was falling apart. I gave him my heart, my love, my everything. And in return, he gave me distrust.

The memory of how we met flickered in my mind like an old film reel—those early days, before the weight of fame and fear crushed us under its heel.

I had been his sponsor after his 2019 relapse. A fresh face among the older, battle-worn members of the program, I hadn’t expected to be assigned to someone like James. I still remember that first meeting—how he slouched into the room, the weight of the world on his shoulders, his eyes distant, almost lifeless. His tattoos were visible beneath the sleeve of his worn-out leather jacket, and his hands trembled slightly as he held a paper cup of coffee, more like a shield than a drink.

He was a legend, a rock god, someone I had grown up listening to, but none of that mattered in that room. There, he was just another man struggling to find his way back from the brink.

I had introduced myself, unsure of how someone like me could even begin to help someone like him. But as the days passed, we found an unexpected rhythm. He was raw, real, and unfiltered, and I wasn’t afraid to call him out on his bullshit when he tried to downplay his struggles.

“You’re not invincible, you know,” I had told him once during one of our private sessions, my arms crossed as I stared at him down. He had tried to laugh it off, but I didn’t let him. “You might be James Hetfield to the world, but in here? You’re just another person trying to get better. And if you want this to work, you’re going to have to face the hard stuff.”

To my surprise, instead of pushing back, he had listened. Really listened. And slowly, over time, the walls he had built around himself started to crumble. We spent hours talking, not just about his addiction, but about life, music, and everything in between. I saw glimpses of the man beneath the rock star, the man who had been buried under years of fame and pressure.

The pandemic hit not long after, and somehow, through all the uncertainty and isolation, we grew closer. What started as a professional relationship morphed into something else—something deeper, more intimate. The nights were long, filled with shared stories and quiet moments where it felt like we were the only two people left in the world. And somewhere in the midst of it all, I fell in love with him.

He was still broken in so many ways, but I loved him for it. I thought I could help him heal. I thought I could be the one to put him back together.

But I hadn’t expected him to break me in the process.

Now, months later, here I was, sitting alone in the apartment I had moved into after his betrayal. The DNA test had proved him wrong, of course. The baby was his. But that didn’t matter. Not anymore.

I absentmindedly placed a hand on my growing belly, feeling the flutter of movement beneath my fingertips. A bitter smile tugged at my lips. He knew now, without a doubt, but I couldn’t bring myself to care about what he thought. I had sent him the NDA weeks ago, making it clear I didn’t want anything from him. No child support. No public acknowledgment. Nothing. It was his choice to betray me, to accuse me of something so vile, and I would never forget that.

A knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts. I hesitated for a moment, not expecting anyone. Slowly, I stood, heart racing for reasons I couldn’t quite place, and opened the door.

It was him.

James stood there, looking more worn out than I had ever seen him. His eyes were puffy, as if he hadn’t slept well for days, and his shoulders were hunched, weighed down by regret. His gaze met mine, and for the first time in months, I saw something I hadn’t expected—tears. He blinked them away quickly, but not before one slid down his cheek.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, keeping my voice steady even though my emotions were anything but.

He shifted nervously, his hands clenching and unclenching by his sides. “Can I come in?”

I wanted to slam the door in his face. I wanted to tell him to leave and never come back, but a part of me—a small, treacherous part—still longed for the man I had once loved, the man I had thought he was before everything went to hell. So, against my better judgment, I stepped aside and let him in.

The silence that settled between us was heavy, oppressive. I crossed my arms over my chest, waiting for him to speak, to explain why he was here after everything he had done.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, his voice rough and low. “I’m so sorry.”

I didn’t respond. What was there to say? Sorry wasn’t going to erase the hurt or make up for the months of pain I’d gone through because of his accusations.

“I was scared,” he continued, taking a hesitant step toward me. “I didn’t want to believe it because… I didn’t think I deserved it. You, the baby… any of it. I thought it was too good to be true, and I freaked out. I messed up. I know I did.”

“Damn right, you did,” I snapped, my emotions finally bubbling over. “I gave you everything, James. I stood by you when no one else did, and the second I needed you, you turned your back on me. You accused me of cheating—like I was some random groupie. Do you have any idea how that felt?”

His eyes dropped to the floor, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I know. I know, and I hate myself for it. I was wrong. You didn’t deserve that.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Why are you here? What do you want?”

He looked up at me, his eyes brimming with emotion. “I want to make things right. I can’t take back what I said, but I want to be there for you—for the baby. Please… I can’t lose you.”

For a long moment, I just stared at him, the weight of his words hanging in the air. His lips trembled, his hands shaking as they reached out for me, and that’s when I saw it—more tears. They fell silently, streaking down his face, and it shook me to my core. James Hetfield, the man who never showed vulnerability, was standing in front of me, broken and pleading.

“You already lost me,” I whispered, feeling my heart crack all over again. “The moment you accused me, you lost me.”

He took another step closer, his hands reaching for mine but stopping short when I didn’t move. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that I’m sorry, that I love you.”

I blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over, torn between the love I still felt for him and the pain he had caused. “It’s not that simple.”

“I know,” he said softly, his voice breaking. “But I’m not giving up. I’m going to fight for you, for us. I love you. I always have.”

The vulnerability in his voice, the raw emotion, broke something in me. For the first time in months, I saw the man I had fallen in love with, the man who had been buried beneath his fears and insecurities.

“I don’t know if I can trust you again,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

James nodded, his eyes glistening. “I’ll earn it back. I promise.”

We stood there, both of us broken and scarred, but maybe—just maybe—there was a chance to heal. I wasn’t ready to forgive him, not yet. But as I looked into his eyes, I realized I wasn’t ready to walk away either.

___________________________________________________________

Months had passed since that heart-wrenching conversation, and though the pain hadn’t entirely vanished, we had started to rebuild—piece by fragile piece. James and I had taken things slow. He had apologized countless times, not only with words but with his actions, showing up for every doctor’s appointment, staying by my side during the hardest days of pregnancy, and fighting to earn back the trust he had shattered.

By the time the band’s tour kicked off, I had grown more comfortable with the idea of us—tentatively agreeing to join him for a few weeks. There was something cathartic about seeing him on stage, in his element, pouring his heart into the music. It was the same passion I had fallen for, the raw energy that made him who he was.

That night, the crowd roared as the band played their set. I stood backstage, watching James from behind the curtain. The energy of the performance was electrifying, but as the night wore on, I felt an unusual pressure in my belly. It started out mild, but soon a sharp pain gripped me. I pressed a hand to my stomach, my breathing becoming shallow.

I knew what it was. The baby was coming.

Another wave of pain surged, and I leaned against the wall, trying to steady myself, but it was no use. My knees buckled slightly, and panic flared in my chest. No, not now, not during the concert!

I winced, unable to call out over the blaring music and the chaos of the backstage area. The crew was bustling around, completely unaware of my situation. My vision blurred, but I managed to catch the eye of a stagehand nearby, my voice barely a whisper as I gasped, “Get… James…”

Her eyes widened in alarm when she saw the state I was in. Without hesitation, she rushed off, navigating through the flurry of activity until she reached the side of the stage. She tapped on the shoulder of the band’s tour manager, urgently pointing toward me, and within moments, a message was relayed to James over the in-ear monitors.

It didn’t take long. Within seconds, James glanced toward the side of the stage, his expression shifting from focused to alarmed. The guitar in his hands stilled mid-song, and the rest of the band kept playing as he tore off his in-ear monitors, rushing offstage toward me.

By the time he reached me, another contraction hit. I was clutching my stomach, struggling to breathe.

“The baby’s coming,” I managed to say between breaths, my voice weak. “Now.”

James’ face went pale. “Oh God, okay, okay… we need to get you to the hospital.”

He quickly helped me up, supporting me as I leaned on him, and together we moved through the maze of equipment and crew members. The sirens wailed in the distance as we made our way to the ambulance parked outside.

Once inside, James squeezed my hand tightly, his brow furrowed in worry. “You’re going to be okay. I’m right here,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady, but I could hear the tremor beneath it.

The drive to the hospital felt like an eternity, each contraction more intense than the last. James stayed focused on me, whispering encouraging words, but I could see the tears welling up in his eyes.

Finally, we arrived at the hospital, and I was rushed into the delivery room. The world outside faded as I focused on the task at hand, the pain consuming me but accompanied by James' steady presence.

 

After what felt like hours, the moment finally arrived. The cries of our baby filled the room, and I looked at James, who stood by my side, tears streaming down his face.

 James leaned down to press a soft kiss to my forehead, the weight of the past finally began to lift. The room was filled with the soft coos of our newborn daughter, and in that moment, I felt a warmth spreading through me—a mixture of hope and love that I had thought lost forever.

“Can you believe we made her?” James asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he glanced down at our daughter, who was peacefully nestled in my arms.

I smiled, my heart swelling with emotion. “She’s perfect.”

“Just like her mom,” he said, looking back at me with eyes full of adoration. There was a sincerity in his gaze that sent shivers down my spine, a reminder of everything we had been through together.

He gently reached for our daughter, and I carefully transferred her into his arms. The moment our baby was in his embrace, his expression softened, transforming into one of sheer wonder. He gazed down at her as if he had just been handed the greatest treasure in the world.

“Look at her,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “She has your smile.”

I watched as James became utterly enchanted, rocking her softly as if to soothe a restless heart. “But those eyes,” he continued, his breath catching in his throat, “she has my eyes.”

I leaned closer, gazing at our daughter, and my heart swelled with love as I saw the truth in his words. “You’re right. She has your eyes,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “And your spirit, I can tell already.”

James grinned, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I can’t believe I get to be her dad,” he said, emotion pouring from him. “I promise to always be here for you, for both of you. I want to build a future—a real future—with you.”

A thrill of excitement raced through me. “Really? You mean that?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, looking up at me, his gaze steady and sincere. “I’ve learned so much about myself, about us. I won’t let fear or mistakes dictate our lives anymore. I want to be a family, to share every moment with you.”

As he continued to cradle our daughter, a soft smile spread across his face. “I can’t wait to teach her about music, to show her the world,” he said, his voice filled with warmth. “I want to be the dad who’s always there, who shows up to every recital, every birthday. I want her to know she’s loved.”

My heart raced at his words, overwhelmed by the love radiating from him. “I want that too,” I said, feeling tears of joy prick at my eyes. “I want to share everything—the good and the bad.”

James took my hands in his, his grip warm and reassuring. “Then let’s do it together. One step at a time.”

As he leaned in, our foreheads touched, and the world around us faded into a soft blur. In that moment, everything felt right. We were two people, imperfect yet wholly devoted to each other, standing on the brink of a new chapter.

“I love you, James,” I breathed, feeling a sense of peace enveloping me.

“I love you too,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. “Always.”

With a renewed sense of hope for our future, we shared a tender kiss, the promise of a beautiful life ahead lingering in the air.

As he continued to cradle our daughter, he looked down at her with a mixture of awe and determination. “You’re going to be so loved,” he said, his voice a gentle whisper. “And we’re going to take care of each other, always.”

Together, we would face whatever came next—hand in hand, heart to heart, as a family.