#hard to tell without tone indicators

[purplesaline]

They said in a single paragraph

i don’t understand why some fanfiction writers will put all of there work in one giant paragraph. i am constantly abusing a paragraph break. i use it every five seconds. new subject? new paragraph. slightly different angle? new paragraph. any sentence that holds any amount of weight? boom new paragraph. i will use one word then do another paragraph break. you can’t stop me.

[agreeewrites]

working late

feat Steve Rogers x fem!reader cw: MDNI 18+, established relationship, cockwarming masterlist

You leaned against the doorway to Steve's office, where he'd been cooped up for the last four hours since his shift ended. He was pouring over a report, resting his chin on his hand while scanning the security footage on the screen on front of him.

“Are you going to say hello or just loiter in the hall?” He asked without looking away from the footage. His tone wasn't unfriendly, but not exactly welcoming either. You knew how stressed he'd been, work piling high on his mighty shoulders, and it was starting to wear on his seemingly endless patience.

“It's nearly 11,” you said. “You haven't eaten, honey.”

He sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face. “Don't have much of an appetite,” he replied. Then, sensing your frown, finally tore his eyes from the screen, beckoning you over.

You tried not to appear too eager as you bound towards him, folding yourself into his lap. He wrapped his arms around you, one of his brawny hands slipping under the hem of your sleep shirt, squeezing the softness of your haunch. “I'm sure dinner was delicious, baby. Sorry I missed it.”

“S’okay.” You nestled further into him, resting your head on his broad chest, the heavy thump thump thump of his heart soothing some of your concern. He was Captain America, he would be fine missing a meal.

But you missed him. Like, really missed him.

“It'll get better soon,” he murmured, placing a mollifying kiss to your forehead. “Maybe we’ll take a vacation.”

You huffed a laugh. “A vacation? SHIELD would fall apart without you.”

“Yeah,” he heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Sure seems that way lately.”

It was meant to be a joke, but it seemed he was more stressed than you realized. So you lapsed into silence, savoring his presence and hoping your company could offer him a bit of comfort too.

His hand continued to knead your haunch and thigh, moving absently along the curves of your body, unaware of the heat his touch, his proximity, was stirring in your belly.

You pressed your lips to his neck, trailing your fingers along his chest, feeling the muscles flex and soften with his breath. He smelled divine, masculine and clean from his post-work shower, his skin deliciously warm under your lips.

You couldn't help yourself, kissing him again and again, each press more sugared than the last, working your way up to that sensitive spot by his ear. One you knew made him melt every time.

“Baby,” he said, sensing your intention before you actually made contact. “I need to concentrate.”

“So concentrate,” you replied, laving your tongue where his pulse thrummed under his jaw.

His grip tightened on your thigh, azure eyes fluttering closed. “If I don't get this done, Fury is going to make me work a triple.”

“Better get it done then,” you hummed, nipping at his earlobe.

He chuckled, shaking his head, but didn't tell you to stop—not explicitly, at least. So you persisted, kissing downward until you reached his collarbones, nursing a mark just under his neckline. It would be healed in an hour or two, but the desired effect was all the same, if the throbbing hardness pressing against your hip was any indication.

“Y/n,” he warned, voice rough around the edges. Frustrated. “Have a little mercy.”

“M’not doing anything,” you mumbled, tracing a heart on his chest with your finger.

“Of course not,” he cooed, resting his forehead against yours, a smile lifting the corner of his mouth. “You’re a perfect angel.”

“I just think maybe you could use a break,” you said, dragging your fingertips lower to toy with the waistband of his sweats.

“That's very considerate of you, doll.” He leaned back in his seat, hips thrusting up to center you on his lap. “But I really need to get this done.”

“Are you telling me Captain America can't multitask?” You teased, sliding your hand beneath his waistband to palm his pulsing length.

A hiss broke through his teeth, head knocking back against his chair. “You’re insatiable.”

You stroked him lightly, long, languid pulls that had his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat, velveteen skin feverish to the touch.

“I've been neglecting you, haven't I?” He asked, rolling his head to look at you.

In lieu of an answer, you guided his paw from your hip to the crux of your thighs, pressing his fingers against your sodden, bare pussy.

His eyes darkened, black pupils eclipsing the cornflower blue. “What a grave oversight on my part,” he purred. In a blink, you were straddling his lap, the thick ridge of his cock pressing against your heat.

“Shit, Steve,” you gasped, clutching his shoulders, hips rocking against his on instinct.

He tightened his hold on your thighs, just enough to still you. “Ah, ah,” he clicked his tongue. “You think I'm rewarding this kind of behavior?”

Your heart skipped a beat, pussy fluttering at the dominant edge to his voice. It wasn't often Steve went full dom, but when he did…phew.

“Here's what we're going to do.” He grasped your jaw, forcing you to hold his gaze. “I'm going to finish this report, and you are going to sit on this cock until I'm done.”

“But—”

“And you will not move a goddamn muscle,” he finished.

Holy shit. You were practically a puddle in his lap, helpless under the weight of his authority. Submitting like a rabbit in the maw of a wolf. “Yes, Captain,” you breathed.

He smirked, pulling you in for a brief, but lush kiss. “Lift your hips, baby.”

You obeyed while he freed himself from his sweats. His cock was an angry pink, precum beading from the slit as it throbbed in his hand.

Slowly, you lowered yourself onto him, the fist of his cockhead feeling extra huge after a few days without it, the stretch bright and burning.

“So goddamn tight, doll. Droolin’ all over me,” he panted, gripping your hips to take some of your weight off your trembling thighs.

“Did you get an extra dose of serum? Fuck,” you whined. Felt like you could feel him in your fucking throat, so full you could choke on it.

When your weight fully settled into him, a pleased sort of rumble resounded from his chest. “Bite off a little more than you can chew?” He chuckled, massaging your clenched thighs to help you relax. “What happened to my cock-hungry girl?”

“She's full,” you moaned, already struggling to not grind your hips against him, loving the fullness, but craving the glide.

He laughed again, the movement of his chest giving you momentary relief. “She certainly is. Always take me so well, sweetheart,” he praised, guiding your head to his shoulder and placing a few tender kisses to your temple. “Now be good f’me, and I promise you'll get what you want,” he said, smoothing a hand down your spine.

You nodded, trying to take more regular breaths as you melted into his chest, walls slowly softening around his cock.

“Just like that, doll. Good girl,” he praised. You heard the file slide across his desk, his writing arm starting to move, and just like that, he was working again. Balls deep in your sopping pussy.

You felt yourself flutter around him at the thought of him turning the report in to Fury, knowing what had been happening while he completed it. His cock kicked in response to your internal movements, and you muffled a moan into his neck.

“Shh,” he soothed, free hand coming up to pet your hair.

Minutes ticked by, five, ten, twenty, your mind struggling to think of anything but Steve's length digging into your guts, the steady thump of his heart, the balmy warmth of his skin. Steve seemed entirely unaffected, despite his cock not flagging even an ounce, scribbling away on his stupid little report.

Damn serum.

Your clit was mashed against his pelvic bone, the tiniest movement from either of you would send you reeling, growing more sensitive as time ticked by.

Trying to be sneaky, you took an extra deep breath, hips moving the tiniest bit. But it felt like a bolt of lightening through your lower belly, and your stifled gasp of pleasure gave you away.

Steve jerked his hips up, hitting so deep it bordered on painful, and you yelped, thighs clenching around him. “I know. I know it's hard, baby,” he cooed, the saccharine edge of his voice bordering on mocking. “But you can take it.”

“How much longer?” you whimpered, fists curling in his shirt.

He shuffled some papers. “Five pages.”

You groaned, and he surged inside of you again.

“Can feel that, you know,” he chided. “When you speak, breathe. Every time your heart beats. Every little twitch and flutter—” His words caused your walls to clench around him, and he made a strangled grunt in his throat.

Perhaps he wasn't as unaffected as he let on.

“I knew you liked when I talked to you, but fuck—feeling just how much is driving me crazy,” he huffed. Buried his face in your shoulder to nip at your pulse. “You drive me crazy.”

“Steve, I can't—” you whimpered, shaking with the effort of keeping still.

His thighs flexed beneath you, muscles coiling tight like he was battling the same urges. “God, you sound so pretty,” he groaned, big hands gripping your ass. Report abandoned.

Just another little nudge—”Stevie, please.”

Oh, you sounded so pitiful. All broken and shrill, fucked out before he'd even started.

And he folded.

“Fuck it—I’ll skip my run in the morning.” He dragged your body forward, grinding you on his cock like a toy, and you keened, the relief exhilarating, bone-meltingly sweet. “Always get your goddamn way, huh? Spoiled brat—” He tossed you up onto the desk like you weighed nothing at all, caging you under his Herculean body as he pounded into you. “Got me wrapped around your little finger.”

“Fuck, yes, yes, yes!” You chanted, clinging to him as your orgasm hit you like a train, blasting through you without warning and sending you into orbit. Stars bursting like fireworks behind your eyes as you soared.

“That's it, sweetheart. So good f’me—feels so—fuck!” He tipped over the edge with you, pumping you so full it ached. “Satisfied now, doll?” He huffed when he came down, head dropping into the crook of your neck.

You could only hum, entirely unrepentant.

© agreeewrites 2025. do not copy, translate or claim my writing as your own.

[evangelifloss]

Thinking about a certain scene in Dungeon Meshi that completely encapsulates the Autistic experience of making friends as an adult and how hard it is to try and navigate it without ending up getting hurt.

Like IDK about y'all, but this is a common problem ALOT of Autistic Adults face when trying to make friends with other people, because unlike children who aren't good at keeping their opinions to themselves, Adults ARE. In society, we're even encouraged to "keep the peace" "be polite" and etc, which commonly leads to awful scenarios as shown above when Laois finds out his buddy has come to resent who Laois is without actually telling him. All too often the friends that we love to hang out with, people that we're so happy to spend time with, don't feel the same way and in many cases, come to blame us for our social cues or lack thereof.

And when/if we do eventually find out how our friend feels, Dungeon Meshi hits us with another painful panel of how that usually ends up playing out.

It's hard for Adults with Autism to make friends, and even harder to maintain them because alot of the ways Neurotypicals tell other Neurotypicals that they don't like a certain behavior is by quietly disengaging. Whether that involves having one sentence answers, going quiet, or having a certain tone in their voice, all those things signal annoyance or disapproval, but for the Neurodivergents, those subtle cues are completely missed.

And yet when we inevitably discover we DID do something, it is natural to ask "well why didn't you tell me?" because in our minds, it should've been the next step in the equation. However for the Neurotypicals, that's NOT something to bring up. Its important to be SUBTLE about the issue at hand and rely on signals to tell the other person. Blame is placed on us for not noticing the "obvious" signs of disapproval rather than the idea of talking it out as such things are uncomfortable and harder to do. Alot of the time what ends up happening is resentment due to the idea that it was "obvious" and the fact one didn't notice indicates a deliberate ignorance rather than a complete unawareness. It ends up calling into question our quality as a person and our sincerity. We get called "fake" or "malicious" or even "stupid" for failing social cues rather than questioning the decision to be indirect and vague.

For a manga about exploring the dungeon, it seems that the artist would rather explore very real and prevalent dynamics in society with the adventuring premise as a backdrop. I felt VERY seen in these panels, and many others, because it happens so suddenly and dare I say it, plainly. There's no dramatic build-up or spectacle made and in essence, it just Happens.

I think that's what makes the scene hit even harder. It seemingly comes out of nowhere for Laois, like how it always comes out of nowhere for alot of people, and it's never a dramatic twist either. It's always mundane and hurtful. A sudden unforeseen bump in the road that ends up calling into question one's entire friendship with someone and consequent other friendships. It asks "what if other friends feel the same. What if the people that I really like actually hate me and I don't know it?" Or at least that's what I came away with after reading the chapter. I've been where Laois was and the only reason I'm not there now is because I lost the naivete I had and doubt everyone else's sincerity.

[zyafics]

GIRL WITHOUT A TAIL | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Blurb)

Pairing – Rafe x Mermaid!Female Reader

Summary — Rafe seeks Sarah's help about what to do with you.

Word Count — 1.7K

Content — fluff, protective!Rafe, Sarah acting like a bitch, and you acting clueless and afraid of everything except your mate, also suggestive ending. A continuum of this piece!

Dedication — to @nemesyaaa my own little mermaid, and @promiscuousg1rl for reading it first <3.

“She’s a mermaid?”

Rafe’s telling Sarah about his encounter with you. After taking you back to Tannyhill, you confide in the stranger—your mate—that you’re a mermaid. It’s your first time on land, with legs, and why you wobble with each step. But Rafe didn’t believe you.

However, the conviction in your voice had him second-guessing. The way you peer up at him with such innocent, enchanting eyes that blink with such naivety, he wanted to protect you with all the fibers of his being. He felt like he was being sucked into a trance, not thinking straight, that he sought out a secondary opinion.

Well, more like that she forced him to tell her.

Because Sarah didn’t see a helpless woman who needed Rafe’s help. She saw a stranger, walking around the estate, barely wearing any clothes, except for a half-assed outfit strung together from her brother’s closet.

“Have you gone insane?” Sarah snaps at Rafe, her tone dripping with disbelief. “A mermaid? The fairytales Dad used to tell us about when we were kids?”

Rafe feels insane for believing it.

“I know it doesn’t make sense,” Rafe declares, “But that’s what she told me.”

Sarah blows out a stream of air, shaking her head. “Seriously, Rafe. What type of women are you sleeping with?”

“I’m not sleeping with her,”

“Yeah, because being naked is a default setting,”

“I found her like that,” Rafe hisses at his sister. “She was at the beach, naked, with these fuckin’ seashells as a bra. What else do I suspect?”

“Not a mermaid,” Sarah insists, as if it was the most normal response. She glances towards Rafe’s bedroom, where you stay, and sighs. “Have you asked her where she’s from?”

“The ocean,”

Sarah glares. “Not funny.”

“That’s what she told me,” Rafe declares.

Sarah shakes her head again as if she can’t believe her brother would believe in such nonsense. “Alright, I’ll do it. I guess men can’t do shit,” Sarah announces, grabbing Rafe’s arm and hauling him back to his bedroom.

You stand near the corner of his desk, going through everything of his. All family portraits hung behind glass, all his trinkets he found from scouting the beaches, all the golden rings he wears, and the expensive colognes he sets to the side. Your fingers trace each and every curve, feeling the magnitude of each touch, without the presence of water, in a way that allows you to feel each edge. You don’t even notice Sarah and Rafe’s return until someone clears their throat.

Turning around, you spot your mate beside another woman, her hand wrapped around his wrist. Your brows furrow together, full, pouty lips pull to a subtle frown, unsure of what to make of it. Back in Atlantis, no partners would be so shameless to be seen with another mermaid. For Rafe to do so, strikes your chest.

Rafe must’ve picked it up. Somehow, he understood the look behind your eyes, the way you scrutinize his sister’s touch. “This is Sarah, my sister.”

All concern drops, and you grin. “Hi, Sarah!”

“Hi,” She drawls sardonically. “My gullible brother is telling me you’re a mermaid,"

Rafe wants to nudge Sarah in the ribcage. But, you didn’t seem to acknowledge the insult, nodding your head diligently, as if you were answering an average question. “Yes.”

Sarah squints her eyes at you. “A mermaid with no tail,” she boasts suspiciously, but you don’t see it as that.

“Yes,” you answer again, your tone indicating causality as if this concept isn’t hard to grasp.

“So a human,” Sarah concludes, drawing back to the board, just as Rafe done before.

“No,” you make a sound of frustration; you went through a similar conversation with Rafe before, and you feel something tense bubbling in your throat. You attempt to walk towards them, to explain further, but you lost your footing. However, Rafe easily appears by your side and catches you.

“Alright, Bambi, slow down,” he murmurs into your freshly-dried hair; soft, voluminous, laced with the sweet smell of the sea. You peer up at him, doe-shaped eyes with complete and total vulnerability, as if you trust him.

“She certainly got the walk down,” Sarah comments and Rafe lifts his gaze to glare at his sister. You shiver under his embrace, and for some reason, Rafe recognizes it’s because of Sarah.

She’s making you uncomfortable and targeted like you can’t seem to grasp that. Rafe can’t explain how he knows this—how he feels it—but he does. You’re frustrated, and a little hurt, and it’s vibrating off of your body like a shaken leaf.

“Stop interrogating her,” Rafe snaps, defensive of you.

“You asked for my opinion,”

“An opinion, not to be a bitch,” he declares, his other arm wraps protectively over your waist, drawing you closer to him. You revel in the feeling of his warmth, nuzzling against his chest to find comfort.

Sarah rolls her eyes; somehow, she recognizes that you got her brother under a spell. “So what happens now?”

Rafe doesn’t know. He’s trying to figure out the pieces and combine mythology with reality, but nothing makes sense. If he takes your words at face value, that means there’s a reason for your presence, rather than a simple encounter. He plans to take a trip to Ward’s office, to look through his treasured collection of sailor’s stories, and figure out a solution from there.

But there’s also another problem: you.

You and your nakedness.

“Can you do me a favor and take her shopping?” Rafe asks.

“Shopping?” Sarah repeats. “For clothes?”

“No, for a ring,” Rafe replies sardonically. “Yes, for fuckin’ clothes. She didn’t have anything, she barely fits into me, and I doubt you’re the type to share.”

Sarah hums, confirming the last comment.

When Rafe turns back to you, in his arms, his expression softens, his voice layered with a sweetness no one ever had the privilege of hearing before. “We’re going to get you some clothes.”

“Clothes?” You repeat, brows wrinkling together at the foreign concept. “Human clothes?” You pick at Rafe’s shirt, running your fingers across the soft fabric.

He nods. “Clothes.”

You beam at this new exploration; this new human concept that you’ve never had before. You try to stand on your own feet, nearly falling, before finding ground. Sarah approaches you and gently grabs your hand, pulling you towards the door—slowly, cautiously to not lose your footing—but, a few steps in, you resist.

Rafe isn’t following you. He’s abandoning you to a strange woman, a strange companion you don’t completely trust in.

You turn back to Rafe, expression full of panic.

“You’re not coming?” You ask, your voice sultry and soft, as if you can’t seem to distinguish between captivation and causality.

Rafe shakes his head, but his heart aches at the look on your face. “I have work to do.”

You frown. You don’t know if you want to go now either, especially without your mate. But his sister tugs on your arm, and despite her tight grip, you resist.

“Sarah’s my sister,” Rafe explains again, hoping to calm the fear in your eyes. “She’ll keep you safe.”

You hesitate, turning back to Sarah, expecting to find the sardonic, humorless look on her face. But all hostility originally boasted has depleted, and she glosses over with a tender look, almost keeping to the promise of what her brother preaches.

Reluctantly, you nod, and follow Sarah out of Rafe’s bedroom, out of the sanction, and away into the open world.

A few hours later, Rafe’s at the kitchen island, going through old scripts. He’s searching through old maps, and old journal entries, to find any clues about your sudden presence at Kildare. His focus tunes everything out—until the noise of you tripping upon return causes him to lift his gaze.

What he sees takes his breath away.

You’re in the most gorgeous, detailed dress; layered with this blue iridescent color that makes you look like a fantasy. It accentuates every curve on your body, strategically revealing tantalizing skin, and boosts this wave of etherealness.

Rafe can’t seem to look away.

Sarah falls in line beside the counter, her arms leaning against the island, noticing the way you caught her brother in a trance.

“Your little mermaid eats fish,” Sarah declares, causing him to snap out of his state.

He turns to her. “What?”

“I mean, for a mermaid, she can eat fish; for some reason, I assumed they only ate kelp,” she chuckles to herself. Rafe realizes that Sarah took you out to lunch, at some restaurant downtown. “If it helps, she’s also very knowledgeable about the sea. Kept going on tangents about different species, how they interact in the ocean, and even challenged a couple of jewelry stores about their pearls. I was almost convinced she’s a real mermaid.”

Rafe doesn’t say anything, his sister’s voice slowly slipping into the background when his gaze returns back to you.

You’re twirling in your dress, catching your footing, and losing it in the same breath, while laughing at the way the fabric spins around you. A melodic, siren-song laugh that sounds enchanting.

“What?” Sarah asks, noting his brother’s lack of response. She follows his line of vision. “You don’t like the dress?”

Rafe swallows, feeling something thick in his throat, before rubbing his jaw. He forces himself to snap out of it—again—before turning back to his sister. The lure to return back to you is hard to resist. “You couldn’t have found something less… form-fitting?”

Sarah scoffs. She can’t believe Rafe’s complaining. “You should be glad I got her into something at all,” she declares. “For a mermaid who’s so fascinated with human customs, she truly does not respect any of it.”

“What do you mean?”

Rafe returns back to you, and the way you find your space in his living room, while Sarah lowers herself to her brother’s level, meeting the shell of his ear, as if she’s trading a secret.

“She’s not wearing any panties.”

IMPORTANT INFO ABOUT TAGLIST AND UPDATES: if you want to be notified about all my fics and updates, follow @zyafics-library and turn on notifications! however, if you want to be added to this specific taglist, let me know (but to remain tagged, you must interact with the posts).

TAGLIST FOR MERMAID!READER: @fullofsunshineandloneliness / @erwinsvow / @perfectprettypisces / @immalosersblog / @carolinevoight

[yougavememyopia]

Tags: Manipulative masochistic yandere, mean annoyed reader, stalking, yandere behavior, isolating, cursing, hair pulling, choking, he does a lot of stuff without consent.

--------♧-------------◇♥︎���------------♧--------

"Hellooo~? There you are. I've been looking all over for you. Where have you been? Don't tell me you're avoiding me..." Your stalker whined in that annoying tone, making you roll your eyes almost instinctively. "Because I'll be really, really sad."

You shifted on the grass you were sitting on, debating on whether to stay or flee. It didn't matter. He would follow you around until you gave in and talked to him.

He sat beside you, too close for comfort. You finally looked at him as he made a small whimpering noise. You knew that indicated him crying crocodile tears if you continued your negligence. "You're driving me insane with your bullshit."

"Aww, are you getting tired of little ol' me?" He smirked. He knew you hated when he acted all cocky, so he decided to pout instead. Looking up at you with a soft, innocent look. "But... but I've done so much for your attention. Look, I even wore this pretty sweater for you."

"I don't give a shit. It's not going to change my view of you. You're a fucking nutcase. It doesn't matter what you do, I'm still gonna reject you."

His face fell. A blank look on his face. It was always scary when he showed no emotion. Like you were getting a glimpse of his true self. You shifted your gaze away, unable to control the shivers you got. Were you too harsh? He always acted so fake. You could never tell what he actually thought.

"You say that, but you'll miss me. I'm the most interesting person around!" His cute smile returned. He clasped his hands together and brought it up to his cheek. "You won't admit it because of your big ego. But I know. Under your cold exterior, there's a softie."

"If I want you around, it's not because of that. It's because of your psychological manipulation, dumbass. The love bombing? Ring a bell?"

"Ah, so you admit it! You do care about me! You want me around. I'm your favorite, right~?" He leaned his cheek into his hand. Batting his eyelashes at you to drive you more crazy. "Might as well go ahead and accept me. I'm not going anywhere. You're not going anywhere. It's meant to be!"

"Ughhh, fuck!" You cursed, slapping your forhead. He did this often; twisting your words into something totally different. "Every single fucking day. It's the same thing. You and your delusions. You won't accept my rejections."

"Then we'd never be together." He commented. He furrowed his eyebrows to show confusion, putting his hands on his lap. "We've come so far already. And I know one day, we'll finally be together! Who knows, maybe today is the day."

His head tilted, and he smiled brightly at you. The gesture making your blood boil. He knew how to act right, to seem more attractive to you. His practiced smile and the quiet mumbled voice drew you in. The weirdly submissive side of him appealed to you. As if he was waiting for you to finally take control of him.

Despite all that, you couldn't look past the creepy things he has done. There were the "coincidental" meetings he admitted to being stalking, stating how he couldn't be apart from you for so long or how he was bored without you. The small souvenirs that he collected, like your hairclip, to put on his hair, or even the bigger items that he took, like your hoodie, to wear and show how he was yours. He tried to isolate you as much as he could. Sticking close to you wherever you went. Finding sneaky ways to get rid of other people around you. His unhealthy obsession was slowly ruining your life.

You've gotten used to it all. Not fazed if he did something stupid for your attention. He tricked you into going on dates with him so many times. You were practically dating. It was hard to admit it to yourself, but you had a soft spot for him. For some weird reason, you enjoyed his company. You enjoyed playing with him. He was entertaining. Interesting.

He suddenly crawled behind you, his hands grasping your shoulders. "You're so tense." He leaned in to your ear and whispered. "You've been on edge for a few days now. Do I really scare you that much?"

You scoffed. "What do you think?"

"Please, I'm harmless! I should help you relax. Treat you to a nice massage." He began to rub your shoulders and slowly moved closer to your neck. His hands worked skillfully to press against your tensed muscles. Drawing circles and kneading your flesh. "Maybe more physical intimacy will help. Something different, perhaps?"

He took advantage of your lack of fight and relaxed state. Throwing his arms around your waist, hugging you from behind. His face nuzzled against the crook of your neck as he inhaled and breathed out a sigh. "I love your smell. I gotta buy your perfume. Well, I have your clothes, so it's kinda the same thing. I never get tired of smelling you~"

"Seriously?" You mumbled. Your skin pickled from his warm breath. The feeling of him sniffing you with his nose brushing against your sensitive skin gave you small shivers. His grip on you grew tighter as you tried to move. His grasp on you almost suffocating. You kick the grass in exasperation. "Augh... Fuck you."

"Is that a promise~?" He giggled and rubbed his nose against your neck more deliberately. "I love the way you talk to me. Always so aggressive. So passionate~ You only act this way towards me. Like I'm special to you."

"Haah..." You clenched the grass beside you. Fingers poked with their pointy heads while you hold onto your anger. "You always do what you want. I never gave you permission to hug me."

"You need it. It'll calm you down. Take away all that stress. And! And.. I give the best hugs ever." He squeezed you tight against his chest. "But if that's not working, I can always try something else. Something that feels even better."

Before you could protest, he began to kiss your neck. Placing long, soft kisses against your skin. Finding the right spots that made you shudder. "Ah...! Hey-?!?"

You struggled against him, but he was determined. Weirdly strong for his short stature. His hands pulled your shirt lower so he could have more access. Kissing along your neck to your shoulder. His tongue joined in between the pecks. It brushed over your skin, coating everywhere with saliva. He lapped at your skin, drawing a line from the bottom of your neck all the way up. Goosebumps covered your body. Your cursing and protests still being ignored.

You reached a hand up to his hair, pulling it, trying to get him to stop. "You're crazy! Let me go."

"Nngh!" He moaned out. You couldn't win with him. Anything you did, he loved. Treating him like garbage or ignoring him completely. He was utterly devoted to you. "Oh, that felt good. Do it again. But harder. Pretty please~"

"Fucking masochist. How did I end up with someone so messed up?" You tugged his hair again, more firmer this time, making him moan louder. He started doing different things to your neck, sucking and nibbling on the skin. You couldn't control the small grunting noises from spilling. "I swear, if you leave a mark, I'll choke you to death-!"

He seemed to like the threat. His movements becoming frantic. He was definitely leaving a mark. Just to despite you. "Mmh~ Feels good..." His hands started to rub under your shirt. His nails digging into your skin.

He panted against your neck as you stopped. You rubbed his scalp instead, enjoying the feeling of his soft, well-cared hair between your fingers. He nuzzled against you, hugging you loosely. "Ahh... You didn't struggle as much as I thought. Did I change your mind? Do you believe me now when I say that I won't ever leave? Oh, that reminds me. I think it's about time I move in with you."

"What the fuck are you going on about?" You sighed in annoyance. His love was driving you insane. There was so much a person could take until they compromised with the weirdo who wouldn't leave them alone.

"Oh, come on! I've been waiting forever. I'm moving my stuff in first thing in the morning."

You pushed him away with force. Pinning his shoulders to the ground and climbing on top of him. "You're makin' me really angry. I don't want you around. Why can't you get that through your thick skull?"

He chuckled, looking up at you. "I'm not giving up on us. Ever. You're stuck with me whether you like it or not. Plus, you've got nobody else to turn to, remember?"

"Ughh." Your hands close around his throat with force. "You act this way to provoke me. You enjoy this. Do you get off when I do these things to you? Hm? Is this what you want? I can't believe I actually fell for you. Good-for-nothing stalker."

He arched his back and closed his eyes, humming slightly. He was enjoying every second of this. You tightened your grip. The lack of oxygen making him squirm underneath you, but he knew you'd never kill him. His hands grabbed your knees. He just had to touch you in some way. Clingy as ever. The tent in his pants no surprise to either of you.

"I wanna do something that'll make you speechless for once. You're always doing unexpected things to me. Well, how about this?" You leaned down and kissed him. Pushing him further down and roughly shoving your tongue past his lips. Secretly, it was an excuse for you to be reminded of the sweet cherry taste in his mouth. (You knew tasted like that on purpose to lure you in.)

This wasn't your first kiss. He frequently planted small pecks on your cheeks and "accidentally" on your mouth. Though, after the second time, it was obvious he was doing it on purpose. While you kept protesting, you couldn't deny the spark you felt when your lips met. It felt good— unfortunately, it seemed like this batshit crazy guy was your only option. And the only option you'd ever choose.

He groaned softly, relaxing and allowing you to do whatever you wanted with him. Kissing you back with passion and true devotion. He always emphasized how he was yours to use. You pulled away to look at the smirk on his face, your hands cupping his cheeks. Squishing them together. "Don't look so happy. This doesn't mean I'm accepting you. I just, sometimes, like using you. But you're not moving in."

"We'll see about that. I bet I can change your mind." He commented, leaning his cheek to your hands and chuckling. "I have a few compelling arguments. I can cook. I can clean. I can do anything you want me to. So, won't you please reconsider? Pretty please?"

Pt. 2

[levigarden999]

nice shot 𝜗ৎ gamer!nagi x reader

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ theme : you distract nagi ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ warnings : smut , oralsex!male receiving , choking , sloppy , blowjob , +18

nagi was sitting at his computer, a controller in his hands and a blue headset on. his white hair was a little more disheveled than normally, which obviously indicated that he had played the whole damn day. again.

his half-lidded eyes lazily scanned the screen as the fortnite characters ran around the fields, nagi’s facial expressions not changing one bit even if he shot someone or was about to be shot himself. he just stayed there, slumped, like a damn sloth. an attractive sloth, at that.

”seiii-” you whined. desperately needing nagi’s attention, you walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his neck from the back.

”what, doll?” he asked with that soft and caring, yet so nonchalant tone.

you could here reo cursing distantly from his headphones.

”what can i do to end your session? you’ve been at that for hours” you continued whining as your eyes scanned the screen where his character currently flew to another battle from the bus. you placed your nose against the skin of his neck, softly smelling the sweet yet musky scent that lingered on his pale skin.

”i’ll quit soon. just one more game” nagi answered lazily, his eyes never leaving the screen. you wondered how was it even possible he was so damn ripped when all he did was sit at his computer all day? not to mention how skilled he was at soccer, he barely even practiced.

”sei, where are you? there’s nothing here” you heard reo speaking again from the other side of the line. he always played fortnite with nagi, even though reo apparently hated the game.

”at the lowest floor. i found a chest” nagi answered with a casual tone as he currently picked the whatever stuff the chest gave him.

suddenly, you got an idea.

you moved away from behind him, crouched down and crawled underneath the desk in front of him.

without even glancing at you, nagi began to speak ”doll, what are  you-” but he was quickly interrupted by the sound of his pants being unzipped.

”sei? is your girlfriend there?” you heard reo ask, with small disdain in his voice. he never learnt to like you, because you practically stole nagi from him. or that’s how he felt, at least.

”i- um, yeah, she’s- uh, studying” nagi quickly said and for the first time today, you heard his voice waver a little. bingo.

you smirked as he shifted to allow you to pull his pants down, and you did so. you could already see the semi-hard outline of his thick cock from under the fabric of his boxers.

you began to slowly and teasingly palm his cock through the warm fabric and you felt him twitch. you knew you had to remain quiet and careful, nagi would absolutely die from embarrassment if reo realized what was going on.

”look out, reo, someone’s in the building” nagi said and as you looked at him, you noticed a slight clench of his normally relaxed jaw. even his voice sounded a little more urgent than normally.

you slowly lowered his boxers as well, his freed cock immediately slapping against his stomach. his tip was already flushed pink, the delicious pale shaft slightly throbbing as the blood rushed through the thick veins.

it seemed like he had a slight kink for dangerous play like this.

you wrapped your fingers around the flushed tip, teasingly rubbing circles on the most sensitive part of his body. nagi shifted his hips, obviously telling you to go on.

you looked up at him as you kissed his tip, sucking the small leak of salty precum from his cock which made his muscular thighs tighten under your elbows. fuck, it was so hot.

you heard the way his fingers moved fast on the controller as you slowly stroked his shaft now while suckling on his tip.

”reo, take that one-” nagi spoke but his voice was cut off with you suddenly taking his whole damn lenght down your throat. he inhaled sharply and for once you saw those damn lazy eyes widening and glancing down at you. his pale cheeks were slightly flushed, that pretty mouth agape with lust.

”what?” reo asked with mild confusion.

”um-, the one, in the backyard” nagi quickly continued, his voice a little shaky now. you pumped your mouth on his cock, your lips tightly wrapped around the skin there as you enjoyed the feeling of a fat cock making your jaw ache. your tongue licked the underside while you effectively drooled all over him, allowing less friction and more sloppiness.

”there’s no one there, idiot. are you okay?” reo huffed, with genuine concern.

your eyes shut closed now as you barely managed to take him down your throat, his tip pressing annoyingly against the back of your mouth. even your lips were aching at this point as you sucked him with all the possible force and skill you had, and you felt his hips and thighs beginning to tremble under your arms.

”y-yes, just, i thought someone was there” nagi answered with obviously through gritted teeth. he was holding back a moan – no – a whimper. his voice was softer and whinier than usually, obviously doing his all to prevent a desperate whine escaping him.

nagi shifted again and he slightly began to pump his hips, obviously looking for more pleasure. his cock hit the back of your throat now, a few tears glistening in your eyes at this point as you pulled back with a wet plop.

nagi let out a small shaky breath and once you opened your eyes, the man was literally sweating. a couple drops of sweat was falling down his forehead, his mouth still agape and eyes hazed with lust. he glanced down at you again and his eyebrows furrowed desperately – he was silently pleading for more.

you only smirked and did a long, teasing lick from the bottom to the top, while never breaking the eye contact with him. he bit his lips together, and desperately shifted his hips once more.

you then sucked him all the way in again, your lips tightly wrapped around his throbbing shaft while your hand groped his balls. you couldn't help but let out a small moan yourself as your lips were coated with your own saliva which dripped down his cock so tantalizingly.

suddenly, you felt a shaky hand grabbing your hair and pushing you all the way down on his length - making you gag from the sudden pressure. nagi's hand guided your head up and down now, the sting on your scalp and the feeling of his cock down your throat making your eyes fill with tears again. you managed to glance up at him, and the way he was staring at you intently with half-lidded eyes and blushed cheeks told you everything you needed to know - he was fucking close.

”watch out, sei!” you suddenly heard reo’s louder tone, which snapped nagi back to the game. he quickly pulled his hand back and focused on the screen, but you didn't stop.

you choked on his cock and kneaded his balls with one firm hand, making his jaw clench and cock pulse. it didn't take more than two seconds until you felt warm ropes of cum spilling down your throat and the inside of cheeks, successfully filling your mouth.

with a shaky, needy exhale and a few faster clicks on his controller, he apparently killed someone while filling your mouth with hot seed.

”nice shot” reo chuckled.

yes. a nice shot indeed.

[cherie-doll]

Can I request COD Men dating a medic reader,??

I love your writing sm ^-^

Ofc!

౨ৎ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

COD Men x Medic!Reader

Price

Imagine being the new medic and you're nervous because it's your first time working there so you have to try your best to hold it together while patching people up

But one day Price comes in injured and you have to control your nerves as you clean his wound up, he's surprisingly nice and even makes small talk with you, it calms you down

After, you manage to keep thinking about that interaction, just how nice it felt to have a normal conversation, it took your mind off of things and honestly it kept you from a mini panic attack from happening

He wishes he could come see you more often, he liked how refreshing it felt to meet someone who seemed a little hesitant, too afraid to mess up, he likes how you smiled after speaking with him

Since he's busy most of the time he can't come to you as often, but I imagine he likes to invite you to just come and talk to him as you drink with him, it's comforting knowing you can bask in his company and he provides you a shoulder to rest on

Ghost

Believe it or not he trusts you a lot, he shows up to your office in his most vulnerable moments, when he's hurt you treat him and never mention anything of it, he knows it's just you doing your job but he can't help but feel like there is an underlying tone to it

He likes resting in your office or recovery room when he wants to get away from everyone else but can't find a quiet place to do so, he likes his alone time and if being in the medic's room where no one is to come in looking for him then he'll stay there during his free time

He secretly started growing a stronger liking to you when you covered for him and told his buddies they couldn't visit because he "needed to rest", not that he hates his friends he just likes his alone time

He often struggles to sleep so to get away from the other soldiers who snore loudly he'll come to you knowing you're almost always up late and drinking tea, like a cat who is content sitting without talking or doing anything next to you and eventually falls asleep

You tend to admire him silently, the features that you can see through his balaclava when he's not aware of it

Soap

Every time he comes to get checked up he likes making you laugh and telling you the worst jokes, but it makes you laugh lightly and honestly keeps you awake and sane from working overtime since you treat a lot of emergencies

He will be laughing as if he doesn't feel the alcohol you're using to disinfect his wound, he likes pretending like he doesn't feel pain when you push the needle in because he doesn't want to be weak in front of you, it's sort of turned into you trying to make him wince or show that it hurts but he tries grits his teeth and holds it in

Doesn't even know he likes you like that until others are teasing him about how often he talks about you and how he'll try to impress you, in his mind he hasn't come to that realization yet, not that he's denying it because he really enjoys your company

You probably get very nervous checking his eyes when you shine the flashlight on them because you notice the way his eyes crinkle, indicating he's smiling and you have to hold the grin before it shows on your face

As a boyfriend he'd be coming by every moment he can to just cling to you when you're on your breaks and you'll have a hard time getting him to leave you alone or give you some space

Gaz

I can imagine him already having a liking to you, he likes coming by every morning that he can to visit you before anyone else can bother you and just hanging around your office when he's in need of good company

You enjoy his company because he's not unnecessarily flirty like other the others are, he's respectful, caring about your mental health because you deal with so many people on the daily but with him it's different, you don't feel that obligation to smile or put on a fake act around him

Your tired eyes light up seeing him knowing you're going to be recharged emotionally and mentally, it's come to the point where you even seek him after your work is done hoping to spend more time with him

It's sort of hard finding time alone together when so many other people are friends with him yet the moment he sees you he'll pull away from everyone else to go to you

Roach

I have a hc that even if he survives the absolute worst situations no one else has he still deals with the aftermath of it and it's many complications and frequently getting checkups from you just to assure his health is good enough to keep getting sent out to missions

He ends up spending more time with you than he does with most of the other soldiers or members of the task force

He confides so much in you, things he'd never share with anyone else and yet you listen to him so attentively it honestly makes him develop an attachment to you and he'd look for any opportunity to reciprocate the attention you give him

You sometimes hate the way others treat him, despite being a chill guy to be around he's often a little out of orbit when it comes to socializing with the others, you'd think going through shit together would unite them but strangely enough he doesn't get enough dopamine from them like he does with you

It might be wrong to feel this way but you care more about him than all the others, you'll rush to attend his needs before the others

Alejandro

He is actually a very lousy patient, it takes you ages to try to get him to take medication or inject the needle into him despite him always teasing the other soldiers who have had medical procedures done to them

You have to be ready with a cloth and ice pack to instantly place on him or else he'll be wanting to bang his head against the wall for the dramatics, you let him hold your hand, anything to bring him comfort or some sort of relief at that point

To avoid getting to that level of pain he'll often drink before coming to you so he's not fully in his senses to actually feel or register anything you may be doing that would usually cause him to panic, you hate when he does this because you prefer him to be fully aware

Other than that he'll always try flirting with you or calling you something like "chula" in Spanish when passing by you and you simply roll your eyes and hide a smirk knowing he's nothing like that when you approach with a needle

Rudy

He's probably known you since before you were a medic, he's seen how much effort you've put into your training to be where you are today he respects you so much for it

He worries so much for you, probably more than you do for him which is funny because he has the "riskier" job, but he often worries about how you are being treated knowing some of the soldiers you treat have trauma and it can make you very stressed with them

He makes sure you get your much needed rest, especially during the breaks everyone else is gone and you still have to stay around "just in case"

There was this one time he was injured pretty badly and he had to be laid down as someone called the medic, he didn't know who would come but he felt his heart skip a beat seeing it was you running towards him, you knelt by his side and with a warm smile reassured him you wouldn't let him slip away from your grasp just yet

He didn't even need a painkiller when he held your hand to his chest so you could feel how much his heart beat showing you he was still alive and well

Phillip Graves

He could be dying on the bed, clutching a wound with blood gushing out and he'll still manage to give a smug smile and ask for your number, you want to suffocate him with a pillow sometimes but you'll most likely be blamed for medical malpractice, instead you just say "HIPPA" and that shuts him up for now

I like to think he brings his Shadows for checkups like a father bringing his children to the pediatrician, some of them aren't fond of it but he makes them go through it to ensure they are healthy and fit for their next mission or training

If one of his Shadows get severely injured he's rushing to see you with them in his arms (he can't actually carry them have you seen how big his Shadows are??) and begging you to help them, will literally be in tears hoping they heal up just fine and that nothing bad ends up happening

Afterwards, you just kinda have to give him that reassurance and he'll be eternally grateful to you for what you do for him and his team, and don't think that just because you aren't "that important" to his company because he makes sure you feel like a vital member of the family

Him and the Shadows will enjoy spending time with you outside of your work area just to show their appreciation

Makarov

You often worry about him, more than you should, he's always taking risks and needed to end up being brought into your office to have something done to him, you can only sigh and lecture him but he's never the type to take his injuries seriously, most of the time he takes bold decisions and that impacts his health

Most of the time he prefers having you go to him, so you have to pack your stuff up and go treat whatever he's dealing with, he often uses these opportunities as excuses to get to know you better and just overall toy with you

You hate when he does this as it wastes time and he's keeping you away from patients who could be needing treatment, whenever you hint at this he simply shrugs it off, clearly not caring about others

You carry so much responsibility on your shoulders to be carelessly leaving where you're stationed to treat a paper cut, but after all he always slips in something extra to keep you coming

Keegan

Loves to initiate arguments with you for the fun of it, you two will be bickering over him not wanting to take a prescription you've given him

You could be stressing over an infected cut and he's trying to act as if it were nothing, that being said the sounds he makes when he's injured and grunting and clutching his arm or side in pain and trying to control his breathing have me AKJERUJS-

He doesn't actually get to see you all that often as he wishes but you know he'll be coming to get "treated" when he comes back from a mission, he always thinks to come see you before anyone else can

And he knows you're often at risk too when you have to go along to treat sick and injured soldiers, he doesn't like to dwell too much on how you could be in danger so he just chooses to focus on his task knowing if he's not careful he won't be able to make it back to tease you again

König

He's the type to rarely go to the medic just because wounds on his body heal insanely fast but also because you will have to FORCE this man to enter your office

He was used to his the previous medic, an older man who took his time with each patient, could barely see which is why he often told the soldiers who came to him to read the medicine labels for him and such

But imagine his surprise when he walks into your office and sees a younger medic there instead of the old medic, he's completely silent as he sits in the chair waiting for you to clean a wound he only came because the pain got so bad he couldn't suppress it

Now he's considering saying he's fine and walking out, but you're already washing your hands and putting gloves on, going over to him and asking for him to show you the injury

He has to look away and his eyes roam the room, looking for something to focus on other than your focused stare, and gentle fingertips that hover over his skin as you inspect the wound that he could have ignored for a little longer

Horangi

He is a headache to deal with, comes in after every mission to get his injuries treated but will talk A LOT, mostly boasting and smug explaining how he got this bruise and those cuts

You're tired of hearing him but honestly you'll take whatever as a distraction, and you know he's BUILT like that man will be flexing his biceps and you can't help but stare at them, also his waist?!?

Before leaving he always jokes for you not to miss him incase he doesn't come back from the next mission, you just roll your eyes because you don't want to admit that he's grown on you and his absence is something you don't even want to think about

He likes sending you notes with flirty messages on them to show his growing interest in wanting to pursue a relationship with you because you never give in to letting him have your number, he always wants to take you out to some fancy restaurant or cook for you himself, anything to get you out of your office for a day and spend it with him alone

Nikto

You're often doing a million things at once, quickly treating a patient and ushering them out so you can see the next one who's grunting as they wait in line, that day Nikto has to get something treated and he just so happens to go on a busy day

You're in a rush to treat your patients in pain but he notices some of them aren't even in pain, they seem to have relaxed looks on their faces and they don't have any wounds that he can see, they even joke and laugh with one another

Turns out some of them are only there to chat with you, as happens most of the time with soldiers who are stationed in one place too long with little to no freedom to roam anywhere else, Nikto doesn't understand why they would waste your time when it's finally his turn to see you and you tenderly yet efficiently treat him

He likes the way you touched him, even if it was only you doing your job, he likes your pretty eyes, even if you barely looked at him, he thinks your voice is precious to hear, even if you only used it to direct a single question to him, now he understands those soldiers in line who don't mind waiting an hour just to be with you for a moment

[moon-child-goddess]

Charming

James Potter X Gryffindor reader

Kind of Enemies to start with.  This one is just a collection of scenes.

Summary: Reader hates James, and James keeps showing up to annoy her.

Warnings: Language, reader loves to flip James off, Lily is not a bad person in this, mentions of injuries,

I once again don't know how to keep things short like is over 8k words so its a long one.

Potter was at it again, bothering Lily that is.  Which was no surprise at all, his life’s purpose was to bother Lily and pull obnoxious pranks. He was perched against the black tabletop, arms crossed, and that stupid charming smirk of his was present. He was spewing out nonsense, about what their first date would look like.  

“Imagine it, Evans,” his tone dripped with mock sincerity. “Fireworks across the sky, a romantic broom ride under the stars, and—of course—a picnic with the finest butterbeer Hogwarts can offer.”

I rolled my eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t get stuck. Of course, Potters’ idea of romance would include the most cliché theatrics. He probably thought he was charming too.  

Suppressing the urge to gag at his words, I refocused on the simmering potion before me, carefully stirring the thick, bubbling liquid in clockwise motions. The aroma was faintly herbal, with a sharp tang, it was my only indication I was on the right track.

 “James,” Lily said, her voice was sweet but firm like a scolding mother. “I need to help my partner. She can’t do all the work alone.”  

Her words pulled his attention my way for the first time their entire conversation. He turned, and for a fleeting second, something softened in his brown eyes. But his trademark grin returned, and whatever glimmer of humanity I’d spotted was gone.

“Oh, I see. Don’t worry, Lily, I’m sure she’s perfectly capable of stirring a pot without supervision. Isn’t that, right?” His tone was light, but there was a condescending edge that made my grip on the spoon tighten.

I shot him a cold glare before flipping him off without a word.

“Charming,” he quipped, that maddening smirk of his only widening. “aren’t you just a little ray of sunshine”

I was tempted to lob the wooden spoon at his head. Infuriating—That’s what Potter was. Every word out of his mouth made me want to throttle him.

Lily let out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. “James really?”

Muttering the word ‘asshole’ under my breath, I skirted around him to retrieve a forgotten ingredient from the shelf at the back of the classroom. I glanced back at our table and Lily was smacking him on the arm, hissing something to him. By the time I returned to our workstation, he’d finally slunk back to his seat beside Sirius, whose shoulders were shaking with barely suppressed laughter.

Lily offered me an apologetic smile. “Sorry, he’s just…James”

“He is arrogant and full of himself.” I replied, dumping in a measure of powdered moonstone into the cauldron. “I can see why you always tell him to booger off.”

“He is cute,” She admitted with a small shrug. “But he has eyes for someone else.”

I almost dropped the spoon. Of all the ridiculous things she could say that had to top them all.  Everyone in the castle knew Potter was utterly infatuated with her. It was the topic of every whispered bet in the corridors.

“Right.” I muttered in disbelief under my breath.

Before I could say anymore there was a loud hiss and crackle coming from behind us. My head snapped up just in time to see a plume of green smoke erupting out of Potters and Sirus’s cauldron. Whatever they had brewed smelled noxious.

“Everyone, step back!” Professor Slughorn’s voice boomed as he waved his wand to contain the smoke.  

But before I could move, the cauldron gave a final, violent pop. A spray of scalding liquid flew in all directions. I let out a small squeak closing my eyes and bracing for the inevitable burn. Amongst the chaotic noise I swear I heard someone yell out my name.

The pain never came.

A firm grip caught my arm, yanking me back. When I opened my eyes again there was a sizzling green goop right where I was standing. I was met with Potters concerned eyes when I looked up. His signature grin was gone, replaced by an intensity I had never seen before.

“Are you okay?” He asked, voice unusually quiet.

Potter looked me over inspecting for any sort of injury. Both his hands were on my shoulder’s steading my shaking form.

I blinked once, twice, three times, before responding. “Uh… Yeah.”

His hands lingered on me a moment longer before taking a step back, running a hand through his hair. Sirus behind me was laughing so hard he was nearly in tears.

“James, mate that was brilliant!” Sirus wheezed, wiping his eyes.

Potter shot him a frosty look. It was an expression I didn’t know he could conjure; he was always smiling and carefree.

“Brilliant? You nearly got her killed.” He bit out shoving me behind him.

Sirus froze, his laughter dying. “Oh, come on it wasn’t that bad.”

But James wasn’t listening. He turned his attention back to me, his expression softer. “Are you really, okay?”  

I nodded mutely, still trying to process what was happening. The boy who annoyed me every waking moment was being… Kind to me?

Potter nodded back before walking out of the room. His shoulders tense.

Lily leaned over, whispering, “See? He’s not all bad.”

I didn’t reply. For once, I was at a loss for words.

The courtyard was peaceful despite the bustling of students crossing through. I sat in a shady patch of grass with an old, but well-loved book.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Potter’s voice rang out, breaking my solitude like a shattering glass.

I let out a groan. He had an uncanny knack for ruining perfectly good days. I didn’t bother looking up, pretending to focus on the words in front of me.

“What do you want, Potter?” I muttered, my tone sharp.

He plopped down on the grass right beside me, stretching out like he owned the place.

“Just enjoying the great outdoors, same as you. Sans the book. I think you read more than Remus.”

I finally looked up; my scowl sharp enough to peel paint. “There’s an entire courtyard for you to ‘enjoy.’ Go find a different patch of grass.”

“But this is the best spot,” he said cheerfully, completely ignoring my attempt to banish him. “Nice shade, quiet atmosphere, good company—”

“You’re impossible,” I cut him off, snapping my book shut. “Do you ever get tired of being... you?”

“Nope,” he replied, popping the P. “And you don’t seem tired of it either.”

I blinked at him, stunned by the audacity. “I literally just told you to leave. What part of that makes you think I like you?”

“Yet you haven’t left.” He leaned in slightly, the smell of sandalwood and vanilla coming from him. “I think you secretly like having me around.”

Potters eyes were twinkling.

“I think you are delusional,” I countered, but my voice cracked slightly. His smile deepened like he’d caught me in some grand confession.  

“Delusional, huh? Interesting diagnosis, sunshine”

My head snaped back to him so fast I nearly got whiplash. “What did you- What did you just call me?”

“Sunshine.” He repeated, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Fits, doesn’t it?”

He really was delusional.

“No, it doesn’t,” I bit out through gritted teeth. “don’t call me that.”  

“Why not? It’s perfectly you. You are so warm and radiant”

My hand clenched around the edge of my book, and for a split second, I considered using it as a weapon.

I stared at him in disbelief. My jaw tightening. “I hate you.”  

“Aw, don’t be like that, Sunshine.” his smirk now verging on insufferable. “Deep down, I think you actually like me.”

I stood up so fast he flinched slightly.

“Listen, Potter. I don’t know what twisted game you’re playing, but I’m not interested. Call me that again, and I swear—”

“What? You’ll hex me?” he interrupted, clearly unbothered by any threat I could make. “Go ahead. I’m dying to see what you’d come up with.”

The nerve of this boy.

Instead of dignifying his challenge with a response, I glared harder before turning on my heel and storming off. Behind me, I could hear his laughter following me like an annoying echo.

“See you around, Sunshine!” he called after me, his voice ringing with triumph.

I flipped him off without turning around, my blood boiling.

Sunshine? What an absolutely ridiculous, infuriating nickname. And yet, as I stalked back to the castle, I couldn’t stop replaying the way he’d said it—like it was a joke only he understood.  

I hated him. I really, really hated him.

I had managed to keep the Potter interactions to a minimum. I avoided him by ducking behind statues whenever I caught sight of his messy hair or hiding behind Lily when in class. For a moment, I thought I’d finally regained my background character peace.

The Sunshine nickname had stuck much to my dismay. Every time he said it in class, I swear my blood pressure spiked.

Which is why, when the library’s familiar quiet atmosphere enveloped me one late evening, I let myself relax for the fist time in days. This was my slice of heaven. The dim candlelight and the faint scent of parchment was soothing, a perfect backdrop for tackling the mountain of notes piled before me.

“Well, well if it isn’t my favorite ray of sunshine, hiding in the shadows.” Potters voice drawled breaking the silence like a Bludger through a window.

My quill stilled mid-sentence, and I groaned internally.

“Don’t you have someone else to bother?” I pursed my lips pretending to think. “Like Lily perhaps?”

Instead of taking the hint, he pulled out the chair in front of me and plopped down.  This took my attention away from the papers in front of me. Potters grin was so smug it could rival the Cheshire Cat’s. How could one person be so obnoxious?

“Lily’s got enough admirers for one day. Besides,” he said, leaning back slinging a toned arm over the chair next to him. “you’re far more interesting.”

“Watch it. Lily is my friend,” I shot back, folding my arms across my chest. “What do you want, Potter?”

“Nothing much,” as he spoke, as he leaned his chair on its back legs.  “Just thought you could use some company.”

Company? What about me in a dark corner with books scattered about screams I need company. Potter was an idiot.

A special kind of idiot.

“I don’t need company” I snapped turning back to my notes.

“You sure?” He was leaning forward now. “You seem awfully tense maybe I could help.”

I arched an eyebrow at him unimpressed with his antics. The only person in his group I would accept help from was Remus. He spent more time on schoolwork then I did.

“Unless you have suddenly become an expert in transfiguration theory, I seriously doubt you can help”  

Potter hummed before picking up my book.

“Transfiguration, huh?” He tilted his head to the side like a curious dog. The candles reflected off his glasses creating a glare.

“Nope can’t help with that. But I am an excellent distraction from stress.”

“Clearly.” I mumbled, yanking my book back.

He chuckled, a warm sound that I refused to acknowledge as pleasant.

“You don’t have to be so prickly sunshine.”

“Maybe I am prickly because you are insufferable.” I shot back.

I wanted to throw something at him, but the detention was not worth it.

“But I think you mean I am insufferably charming.” He countered.

“As charming as a toad.”

That earned me a loud laugh from him, he was genuinely amused. “Sunshine has jokes, I like this side of you.”  

I didn’t say anything just flipped him off. Potter laughed again, the sound carrying through the now empty library.

“Prongs!” Sirius voice rang out from somewhere near the entrance. “Come on, we’ve got rounds.”

James stood up, still looking at me. “Guess I’ll leave you to it, Sunshine.” He winked as he walked away, leaving me wondering what the hell had just happened.

It was about a week later before he spoke to me again. I was on an evening stroll around the grounds enjoying the crisp evening air.

Potter was at the lake skipping stones with his group. They were all laughing and making fun of something. I was to far away to hear. Sirus noticed me first nudging James in the arm pointing in my direction. I narrowed my eyes.

“Sunshine!” He called out. As if were the greatest of pals.

I kept walking, acting like I didn’t hear him. He jogged up the hill quickly falling into step with me.

“What has you in such a hurry?”

“Trying to avoid you and your gaggle of friends.” I was blunt not bothering to soften the blow.

“Harsh,” He clutched his chest dramatically. “You wound me.”

“You will survive, especially if you know, just leave me alone.”

There was a beat of silence.

“You know you could just admit you like me”

I halted my steps and blinked turning mid step. “Why on earth would I do that?”

“Because everyone likes me!” I half expected him to spin with his arms out, but he just shrugged.

The confidence of him. His parents raised an irritatingly confident secure personality.  

I rolled my eyes, “That is impossible Potter, because I really don’t like you.”  

“Oh, I will grow on you, I promise.” There was a playfulness to his tone.

“Like a fungus, maybe.” I scoffed.

James burst out laughing, the sound wasn’t entirely unpleasant. My lips twitched fighting a smile. He was kind of cute in that moment. The way the setting sun caught in his hair and how he absentmindedly adjusted his glasses made him look... well, charming.

Shaking the thought away, I did what came naturally and flipped him off continuing my walk. This time, though, the gesture was almost playful.

Before I got far, I glanced back and spotted Sirius patting James on the back with a mischievous grin. My stomach sank. They were up to something, and I was undoubtedly their next target.

I steeled myself, pulling my walls higher than ever. I wouldn’t fall victim to whatever scheme they were concocting.

Not this time.

Avoiding Potter from that point on had become a fulltime task. No matter where I went, he showed up with a cheesy pick-up line. Somehow, he was everywhere. Like he had some sort of magical tracker. Which was why I had taken refuge under the shade of a secluded oak tree on the furthest side of the castle grounds. A book clutched in my hands like it was my lifeline of sanity. Lily had recommended it to me. It was a fun muggle mystery. She had called it a classic.

“I think about it a lot you know. What our first date would look like.”  Potters annoying voice spoke from above me.

And yet, there he was, like a persistent weed sprouting through the cracks. Of course, the obnoxious boy would find this well-hidden tree. How was he always finding me?

“Umm what?” I sputtered not quite believing what I heard.

“You heard me sunshine.” that damn confidence was back, as if he was going to get what he wanted out of this conversation.

The sun made it difficult to see him, its light blasting directly into my eyes from behind his head, forming a blinding halo around him.

“Stop lying, it’s not cute.”  I muttered.

Potter moved to the side; my eyes followed.  He was unfazed by my dismissiveness. I closed my book with a snap, no longer able to tolerate being in the same space as him.

“I promise you, I’m not,” his voice still dripping with that unshakeable confidence.

He was up to something, and I had no idea what it was—but I sure wasn’t going to stick around to find out.  

“I will believe that hmm… let’s see- never.” I stood up, almost headbutting Potter.  

“Sunshine, even if you don’t believe me now, I am good at proving people wrong.”

Before taking my leave, I flipped him off aggressively. The gesture sharp and final, I wanted him to get the message to leave me alone. Usually when someone flips another person off, they get a clue.  

But he laughed.

On my way back to the castle I passed by a Sirus Black hiding behind a statue. He was clearly trying (and failing) to stifle a laugh. That confirmed it—they were definitely up to something, and I had no intention of being the butt of their joke.

Potter had taken Lilys seat in potions class. She sent me an apologetic look when I entered. Slughorn wouldn’t be bothered. He just cared that everyone sat and paid attention.

“Guess I am your partner today, Sunshine.” He greeted.

I ignored him, dumping my books on the table with a thud. Ignoring him was not working for me but it was the only thing keeping me from harming him.  Potter was like a dog with a bone—relentless.

“Did you know you’re my favorite lab partner?” he added, his voice light, teasing.

“No, and I don’t care,” I muttered, flipping through my notes.

Slughorn us gave us instructions to brew the potion we talked about earlier in the week. I opened my notebook to the vigorous notes I had taken.  I got up collecting everything we needed and started the process without a word.

Halfway through and Potter hadn’t moved. He was supposed to be actually helping brew. But he was utterly useless, just sitting there staring at me with his head propped up on his fist.  

It was infuriating.

“Merlin! Potter, you need to help me,” I snapped, thrusting the spoon in his direction. The frustration in my voice was impossible to miss.

His only response was a stupid dopy grin, He didn’t flinch, didn’t so much as blink at the spoon an inch from his nose. Instead, that ridiculous grin widened.

"You know, sunshine, if I could brew a potion to make you smile, I would." He winked, and I resisted the urge to hex him.

He was impossible. No wonder Lily always said no—these were the kind of lines you’d expect from a child. What did I do to earn his attention?

“Do these lines actually work for you?” I frowned.

“I don’t know,” he said, his amber eyes twinkling now. “Are they?”

There it was again—his infuriating ability to twist every interaction into a game. I wasn’t playing.

There was no way he was insinuating anything with me. Everyone knew he only had eyes for the redhead—Lily—who just happened to be my actual potions partner. Just a few weeks ago he was at our table bothering her.

“I meant, do they work on Lily?” I clarified, my voice flat.

James tilted his head, feigning confusion, though the mischievous glint in his eyes gave him away. “Why would I care about that?”

For the millionth time since I’d met the boy, I rolled my eyes again.

“For the love of Merlin, just stir,” I hissed, shoving the spoon into his hand.

To my surprise, he actually complied, though he made a dramatic show of it, swirling the liquid as though he were crafting some grand masterpiece.

“See? I’m not completely useless, “his tone insufferably self-satisfied.

I ignored him, turning my attention back to the notes. Sirius let out a snort of laughter, only to be smacked on the back of the head by Remus.

“Get back to work,” Remus muttered, though his lips twitched with suppressed amusement.

It was impossible to ignore the lingering sense that Potter was up to something—and I was the target.

James Potter took it upon himself to sit at my usual dining table. My quiet, little secluded corner—the one that no one really bothered with except Lily and her close circle of friends. He slid into the seat across from me his tie undone.

I raised an eyebrow at him, fork halfway to my mouth. What does he want now?

“Are you made of stardust?” I looked heavenward; his tone was teasing but had a softness. “Because every time I look at you, the world seems to disappear."

I set my fork down, sending him a flat look. “You seriously think I am going to fall for one of your cheesy lines while eating?”

He was persistent to pull of whatever prank they were up to. If only he applied that persistence’s to his schoolwork.

Potter shrugged, but this time there was no playful retort. Instead, his grin faded slightly, replaced by something almost... serious. "Maybe I’m just hoping one will finally catch your attention."

The tone change caught me off guard. I almost believed him. He has been playful and flirty the last few weeks. There was movement a couple feet away that caught my attention. Sirus was leaning against the wall just within earshot.

He looked like he was barely containing a laugh, as though James was the star player in some elaborate joke they’d cooked up.

They were too obvious. My frown deepened.

"Potter, your games won’t work on me,” my voice sharper than I intended. "You’re wasting your time."

His gaze softened further, and for once the playfulness was gone. "Maybe I like wasting my time... if it means I get to spend it with you."

The sincerity in his voice made my stomach twist, and I hated it. Hated how, for a fleeting second, I felt something crack in my resolve. But before I could dwell on it, Sirius snorted loudly from his perch, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

Another pick-up line? Another game? Another performance for his friends?

Potter just didn’t seem to know when enough was enough. My appetite was officially gone, and I had no intention of sticking around to entertain whatever nonsense they were plotting.

 “You really don’t get it, do you?” I said slinging my bag over my shoulder.  “I’m not just some joke to you and your friends.”

“Wait—” James started, his hand reaching out like he might stop me.

But I didn’t give him the chance. Before he could say another word, I flipped him off and stalked out of the dining hall, not bothering to look back.

The moment I stepped into the corridor, the tension in my chest eased slightly, though my thoughts still churned. It was bad enough that James had inserted himself into nearly every aspect of my day. Classes, hallways, even the library. He was everywhere.

I didn’t know what he and his friends were planning.

And yet, as I made my way through the castle, a new thought began to gnaw at the edges of my frustration. Was this all part of some elaborate ploy to make Lily jealous? A way to grab her attention by pretending to care about someone else?

The idea stung more than I wanted to admit.

Of course, I told myself firmly. That has to be it. Why else would someone like James Potter be wasting his time with me?

Pushing the thought aside, I tightened my grip on my bag and headed for the common room. I wasn’t going to let him—or his stupid, infuriating grin—take up any more space in my head.

Lily my saving grace was in her spot when I entered the potions classroom. Relief flooded through me, and for the first time in days I felt lighter. There she was my red headed angel. With a smile, I dropped into my seat next to her, savoring the normalcy.

“I didn’t think I’d ever be so happy to see your face," I whispered to Lily.

She laughed softly. "James is persistent, isn’t he? I got to class early to make sure I got my spot.”

As if on cue, the door to the classroom opened, and Potter’s messy head of hair appeared. His eyes dulled when he noticed Lily sitting next to me. For a moment, his usual smile faltered, the realization that his plan had been thwarted clearly hitting him. He glanced at me, then back at Lily, shaking his head. I stuck my tongue out at him in playful defiance.

James gave me a half-smile, and made his way to the table behind us.

Lily leaned in closer, her side brushing against mine as she whispered, ““Do you need help getting James to leave you alone?”   

I shook my head. “No, he will lose interest eventually.”

She gave me a look before responding. “I doubt that. He has always had his eyes on you.”

I shot her sideways glance. “He was always flirting with you and begging you to date him.”

Her lips curled into a small knowing smile. “Only when I am around you. Which is why I always said no.”  

My eyes widened in disbelief, and I almost laughed. “You’re crazy,”

my voice was just above a whisper now.

But as I took in her words, something shifted inside me. We all knew James potter had been in love with Lily for years- He had practically made a sport out of trying to win her over. But hearing her admit that his attention had only intensified when I was around... it felt strange.

I couldn’t help the flicker of discomfort that passed through me at the thought. Why would he suddenly change tactics? I was still convinced he was playing a prank.

Lily nudged me gently, “You’re not as oblivious as you pretend to be, you know.”

I sighed, trying to ignore the strange, fluttering feeling in my stomach. “I’m not oblivious. I just don’t want to deal with it.”

She chuckled softly, her voice full of affection. “You don’t have to deal with it alone. Just know I’m here for you, alright?”

I gave her a grateful smile, leaning in to whisper back, “Thanks, Lil I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Her smile softened, and she gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze.

The Gryffindor common room was warm and bustling with activity, the fire crackling in the hearth and casting flickering shadows across the walls. Groups of students gathered in clusters, laughing and chatting, while others bent over homework or played games. I had tucked myself away in a corner near the window, the happy buzzing fading into background noise as I doodled in my notebook.

I glanced up when I heard Potters voice, a playful lilt as he joked with Sirius on their way in. My heart sank. My shoulders stiffened, and I hunched further over my parchment, praying he’d move along. Surely, he wouldn’t notice me here.

He made eye contact with me immediately, as if he knew I was there.

The room seemed to hush around me, or perhaps it was just my nerves heightening as his footsteps grew closer.

“I need to talk to you,” he said, stopping beside my chair. There was a resolve in his eyes. Potter was determined right now.

I didn’t make eye contact. “Whatever it is, I’m not interested.”

But he didn’t move. Instead, he crouched slightly to meet my gaze, his usual grin replaced by a more serious expression. “I mean it. Can we talk?”

My patience snapped. My chair scraped against the stone floor as I stood up. “I’m not sure what you and your group are up to,” I said, my voice low.

“But stay away from me. I am not something to play with and laugh at.”

“That’s not what—”

I didn’t want to hear what he had to say. It was probably all lies anyway.

“Save it, Potter,” I cut him off, crossing my arms tightly over my heart.

The usual noise of the common room seemed to fade entirely. I just wanted to be left alone, to return to the peace of being forgotten by most. I was here to get an education, to keep my head down, and leave this castle behind.

His expression faltered, just for a second, before he squared his shoulders. “It’s not a joke. I’m not—”

“I don’t care, I just want to be left alone.”

He sighed, dragging a hand through his messy hair, a nervous tic I’d seen countless times now. “You think I’d go through all this trouble for a joke? You think I’d—”

Potter stopped talking when my eyes flicked to Sirius, who was lounging on one of the sofas, smirking like he found the entire situation hilarious. A look of understanding crossed James’s features.

“Please, Sunshine” his voice softer now, almost pleading. His hand reached out, grasping my wrist as I turned to walk away his fingers brushing against my pulse. “Listen to me.”

I froze, my pulse quickening, but not from fear. No not from fear.

“We aren’t playing some joke. Sirus is always around as moral support. He is a shitty wingman.”

Sirus let out an offended noise.

“Let me go,” I hissed, narrowing my eyes at him. “I don’t trust you.”

When he didn’t release my wrist, I glared and flipped him off with my free hand. His lips twitched, almost into a smile, but the determination in his gaze didn’t waver.

“Go ahead and flip me off, love,” his voice tinged with quiet resolve. “I’ll prove to you that I’m serious.”

The words hung between us like a dare, his amber eyes searching mine for some crack in the wall I’d so carefully built. I was stunned into silence. This wasn’t the James Potter I’d come to expect—the grinning troublemaker who lived for attention and pranks. This was different.

“Prove what?” I said flatly, more a statement than a question.  

“That I really really like you,” he replied, his grip on my wrist loosening but not quite letting go. “I’m not playing games. I know I’ve been... annoying.”

An understatement.

“But I need you to know that I’m not doing this to mess with you.”

I snorted, though the sound lacked conviction. “You’re always messing with someone, Potter.”

“Not you,” he said softly.

That stopped me cold. There was no smirk, no teasing edge, just the quiet insistence of his words and the weight of his gaze.

I shook my head, pulling my hand free.

“You don’t have to believe me now,” he said as I stepped back. “But I’ll prove it to you.”

I paused, my heart inexplicably skipping a beat. Then, without another word, I turned and walked away, leaving him standing there.

Things weren’t like before when James Potter was just an annoyance— a loud self-assured presence that demanded attention. Whether you wanted to give it to him or not. No, something was different now, and I was having a hard time making sense of it.

He stopped pestering me in class. There was no interrupting my study sessions or tossing out cheesy pickup lines. Instead, he was actually helping me in class, gave me space when I asked for it, and didn’t push my buttons just for the fun of it.

I couldn’t remember the last time I had flipped him off, and strangely I did miss it.

Part of me hated the change. It felt like losing an old habit. But the other half of me was enjoying the calm side of him. The side of James that was almost thoughtful. Maybe he really wasn’t doing it all for attention or laughs.

I was hidden between bookshelves, shelving the books I no longer needed when I caught the unmistakable sound of Sirus’s voice. It was loud and drifting from a nearby table.

Eavesdropping was bad. I knew that. But my curiosity was piqued and so I took small slow steps, careful to not make a sound.

“She is a lost cause” Sirus was saying, his tone almost sarcastic.

Who is she? Was the ‘she’ me?

“I mean it, James. She always flipping you off and has a permanent scowl. Its hopeless mate.”

Ahh so the she was definitely me. My heart twinged in a way I didn’t expect. I did flip Potter off a lot, but hearing Sirus dismiss me so easily stung.

“Sirus.” James’s tone came out as a warning. “You don’t know her, and you are crossing a line.”

Sirius paused, his grin faltering as he looked at James with a raised hand. “Alright, alright, no need to get all protective. I was just making a point.”

James didn’t respond, his jaw set as he turned back to his parchment, the tension in his shoulders lingered as his quill scratched along the paper.

I ducked back behind the shelf, my heart racing for reasons I did not want to admit. James had defended me to his best friend. Made it clear I wasn’t someone he could get a laugh at.

James wasn’t as bad as I thought he was. There was more to him then the playful antics and relentless charm. And I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about that.

James had gotten hurt during quidditch practice last night. Lily had casually mentioned he was being kept in the hospital wing for observation. Apparently, they were worried that his head injury was worse than it seemed. 

I hated to admit it, but I was worried about him. An annoying flutter in my chest came at the thought of him laying there injured and alone. But how could I just go visit him? Just showing up out of nowhere would seem odd. Especially after I spent so much energy convincing myself, and everyone else, that I couldn’t stand him.

When my notes tumbled out of my bag I had tossed to the side, I found my excuse.

I will make copies of my notes.

 Its practical.

Thoughtful.

Not suspicious.

It wasn’t long before I found myself standing in the doorway of the hospital wing, clutching the freshly copied notes nervously. I should leave. This was stupid. Remus would have notes for him when he was released. He didn’t need me.

Before I could back out the door he saw me. His eyes lit up and lips curved upwards into a smile despite the cut on his lip.

“Sunshine, you came to visit.” His voice was warm.

 “Don’t flatter yourself,” I shot back, waving the notes at him. “McGonagall asked me to bring these.”

He smirked seeing right through my lie.

“Did she?” he asked, leaning forward slightly. He winced at the motion, and before I could think I was at his bedside.

“Stop moving, you are going to make things worse.” I scolded.

James raised his hands up in mock surrender. “Yes ma’am.”

Rolling my eyes I hesitated for a moment before sitting on the edge of the bed. Up close the injury looked worse. A dark bruise was peeking out over the top of the bandage. A quick pang of sympathy ran through me.

James must have noticed my expression, because his pupils softened.

“You know,” he said a teasing lilt to his tone, but nothing over the top. “I’d get hurt more often if it meant you’d visit me like this.”

Without warning I reached out, brushing his stray curls away from his forehead. They were softer than I had expected.

“Don’t be stupid,” I muttered, handing him the notes.

As he reached out to take them, his fingers brushed against mine. The contact was brief, but it sent a jolt through me. I pulled my hand back immediately, pretending to adjust the hem of my sleeve.

“You’re ridiculous,” my words lacked their usual bite.

“Ridiculously happy to see you.” he countered, grinning in that familiar, infuriating way.

Groaning, I shifted to stand up, but his hand caught mine, gently pulling me back down. This time, I didn’t pull away. I let his fingers curl around mine.  

“Thanks for coming,” His thumb brushed lightly against the back of my hand, a gesture so simple and tender that it caught me off guard.

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry.

“It’s just notes.”

“It’s more than that,” he replied, his eyes holding mine. “It means something.”

I didn’t know how to respond, so I let the silence stretch between us. When I finally pulled my hand away so he could rest, I missed the warmth of his touch.

“Well,” I said, standing. “Don’t get used to it.”

“We’ll see about that.” He winked.

“Get some rest Potter.”

“What will it take for you to call me James?”  

I paused at the foot of his bed, glancing back at him with a smirk.

 “We will just have to see,” I quipped.

Something had shifted, and there was no going back.

The biting cold of the Forbidden Forest seeped through my robes as I stumbled over a twisted root. I barley caught myself before face planting into the dirt. My wand was clenched into a death grip, the dim glow of Lumos casting a little more then a pale circle of light. Shadows stretched in every direction, distorting the trees into looming specters. It was an endless sea of black.

Shit, shit, shit.

“Brilliant,” I grumbled to myself attempting to lighten my mood with sarcasm. “Absolutely brilliant.”

Class had ended ages ago. The castle was surely alive with the hum of dinner, but I was lost, hungry and beyond exhausted. My arm throbbed where I had scraped it against a jagged branch, and panic began to set in. Now would be a great time for James to magically appear like he always did.

A sudden rustle nearby caused me to freeze in place. My heart was beating against my ribs rapidly. I slowly moved the light in the direction the sound came from.

There was a low growl from somewhere in the darkness. My breath caught in my throat. I was going to die here.

And I ran.

I didn’t know where I was going, but staying felt like an early invite to my grave. Twigs snapped under my feet; the cold air stung my face.

A bright white beam of light pierced through the trees, and a frantic voice followed.

“Sunshine, where are you?”

Relief flooded through the me my knees buckled.

“I’m here!” I called out my voice trembling. I was going to cry.

The growling stopped abruptly, and there was hurried footsteps making their way to me.

James burst into view, his wand raised high, and his hair was a mess more so then usual. His white button up was disheveled and stained, as if he had plowed through every branch in his path to get to me. His wild eyes locked on mine, and his entire body sagged with visible relief.

But only for a moment.

In a heartbeat, his hands were gripping my shoulders, his gaze scanning me from head to toe.

“Are you hurt?”  he demanded, his tone rough with worry.

Before I could answer his hands moved to my face, gently pushing back stray strands of hair. His touch was warm, a stark contrast to the icy air. A shiver ran through me, though I wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or something else.

I shook my head, trying to find my voice.

“I’m fine.” I whispered.

“Merlin’s beard,” he muttered, pulling me into a tight, impulsive hug.

The sudden contact startled me. James Potter, the boy who loved a good laugh at my expense, was hugging me like his life depended on it. His arms were strong and steady, and for a moment, the situation didn’t feel so terrifying.

I didn’t pull away. Instead, I let myself sink into the warmth of him. My hands found their way to his back, clutching the fabric of his shirt as I breathed in the scent of sandalwood and vanilla.

“You scared the hell out of me.”  He mumbled into my hair.

James was the first to pull away, his hands lingering on my arms looking me over again. Like he was checking for hidden injuries.

“You have a cut.”

The way he said it was so soft I almost missed it.

I’d forgotten about it until he mentioned it. Glancing at my arm, I saw the dried blood and torn sleeve. “It’s nothing,” I said quickly, not wanting to make a fuss. “I just need to clean it.”

James frowned, clearly not satisfied with my answer. He stepped closer, holding his wand up to examine it. The warmth of him was back, his presence grounding me.

“What are you even doing out here alone?” he demanded, exasperation creeping into his tone.  

“I—I got lost,” My cheeks burned at my admission. “I was late for class, and I thought I found a shortcut.”

He stared at me like I’d grown a second head. “A shortcut? Through the Forbidden Forest?” His voice rose slightly, incredulous. “Do you have any idea how dangerous—” He cut himself off, running a hand through his already messy hair yanking on it a bit.

“I didn’t mean to cause a panic,” I said quickly. “Or waste your time.”

James froze, his jaw tightening. For a moment, he said nothing, his wand hand trembling slightly as he lowered it. “Waste my time?” he repeated, his voice low, almost bewildered.

I winced.  

“Waste my time?” he said again, his words sharper this time. He stepped closer, his eyes locking onto mine with a fire I hadn’t seen before.

“Sorry.” I squeaked out. 

The way he was acting caught me off guard. I looked over his shoulder and into the dark, the weight of his concern was overwhelming.

I figured the only person who would notice me missing was Lily.

“Don’t you get it?” His hands found my face again, his thumbs brushing over my cheeks. “I know you don’t believe it, but I care about you. You stubborn, brilliant, infuriating woman. That’s why I came running the second I heard you were missing.”

My breath hitched, the weight of his words crashing into me like a wave. His touch was gentle, grounding, but his gaze was unrelenting, raw, and unguarded.

After a long moment, he pulled back slightly and extended a hand. “Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s get out of here before you catch your death.”

I hesitated, my eyes lingering on his outstretched hand before placing mine in his. His grip was firm, steady, and when his fingers curled around mine, they held on like he was afraid I might disappear.

As we walked through the trees, his thumb brushed lightly against the back of my hand—a quiet reassurance that made my chest ache in a way I wasn’t ready to examine.

For the first time, James Potter didn’t feel like an annoyance. He felt like a lifeline.

Gryffindor won the quidditch game. Our common room was alive with the hum of celebration. Streamers of crimson and gold were lazily thrown up around the space. Cheers erupted from everyone when the team entered the crowded dance area.

I stood off to the side, cradling an empty cup, at the edge of the room away from the crowd. Lily, was perched in the chair beside me. She laughed at a first-year attempting to smuggle an oversized barrel of butterbeer across the room. A sixth-year intercepted it with a laugh, stowing it out of reach.

It was enough to distract me from the figure weaving through the crowd.

James.

He towered over most of the cluster of people, his curly hair unmistakable, still damp from the post-match shower. His Quidditch jersey clung to his frame, the number on his back catching the light. He looked every bit the victorious captain, and the sight of him sent an uninvited warmth through my chest.

“What’s with the brooding? We just won! You should be grinning like that prat over there.” Lily asked shoving a full glass in my hand. She pointed to James who was laughing with his gaggle of friends.

“I’m not brooding,” I replied, taking a sip. “Just enjoying the chaos from a safe distance.”

“If that’s what you want to believe.” She winked, already dancing away toward the center of the room.

James appeared in front of me, his grin widening when our eyes met.

“There you are, Sunshine. Thought you’d gone into hiding.”

That warm, teasing lilt had become as familiar as the sound of my own heartbeat.

“Someone has to make sure you lot doesn’t burn our living space down.”

He chuckled.

“But, not hiding,” I replied, glancing over his shoulder. “Just... thinking.”

He leaned casually against the wall beside me his foot brushing mine, but there was something softer in his expression tonight. His warm brown eyes held a warmth that sent a flutter through my chest.

“Care to share what’s on your mind?” his tone curious.

I hesitated, swirling the liquid in my glass. “It’s just... a lot to take in. Everything’s been so—different.”

James tilted his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Different how?”

I turned to face him fully, “You. Us. Everything. Just three months ago, I couldn’t stand you.”

“And now?” he asked, his voice quieter, the teasing edge gone.

I bit my lip, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze. “Now... I’m not sure I ever did.”

His grin widened, but it wasn’t cocky or self-assured like the ones he used to flash at me in the past. This one was softer, filled with something that made my heart ache in the best way.

“I’d say that’s progress,” he murmured, stepping closer. His hand reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered, against my skin.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “You’re not going to make a big speech about how you knew I’d come around eventually, are you?”

He chuckled, the sound low and comforting. “Not tonight.”

“Good.”

We stayed there for a moment, neither of us speaking. His eyes brighter then usual.

“Enjoying the celebration?” he asked trying to act casual about my confession.

“It’s... lively,” I said, unable to hide a small smile.

He raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “We just crushed Slytherin, I think it’s more than lively.”

I shrugged, taking a sip of my butterbeer. “It was a decent match.”

I couldn’t help but tease him.

“Decent?” He leaned forward, his knees pressing more firmly against mine. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“I can’t make things to easy for you Potter.”  

His grin softened, and for a moment, the noise of the room seemed to fade. “You never do.”

James moved back a half step. “Take a walk with me?”

“Ok.”  

He didn’t ask just grabbed my hand navigating us through the crowd. We didn’t stop walking till we were outside strolling through a field of grass.  The stars were bright and beautiful tonight.  It was almost romantic.

“You know,” he began, his tone light, “I was thinking.”

“Dangerous territory,” I teased, the corners of my mouth lifting.

He laughed, the sound warm and familiar. “Maybe. But I was wondering what it might take for you to stop calling me Potter.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What will it take for you to stop calling me Sunshine?”

He grinned, pulling me closer. “Never. That’s non-negotiable.”

“Then I guess you’re stuck with ‘Potter.’”

He hummed thoughtfully, lacing our fingers together. The simple gesture sent a comforting sensation coursing through me that no spell could replicate.

“What makes you think you’ve earned us being on a first name basis?”

“Scoring the winning goal isn’t enough?” he asked, mock-offended.

“Not even close.”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to make my stomach flutter. “Then what if I told you I’d do whatever it takes?”

“You are persistent.” I laughed.

“Only for you.”

 James usual playful retorts absent in his tone.

I looked up at him, my breath catching at the way his eyes searched mine.

“Maybe just maybe I don’t mind that anymore.” I added, just loud enough for him to hear.

His grin returned, but this time it was softer, almost shy. “Does that mean I can finally take you on that first date?”

I hummed tapping my chin, pretending to think about it. “Maybe.”

I had the teasing tone now.

He laughed, his thumb brushing against my hand. The world seemed to still as he leaned in, stopping just short of my lips. The question in his eyes was unmistakable. I nodded, barely visible.

When his lips met mine, it was like every piece of the puzzle I hadn’t known was missing finally clicked into place. His hand came up to cradle my cheek, the kiss warm and steady, filled with a kind of tenderness I hadn’t realized he was capable of.

When we pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, and I felt his smile against my skin.

“Finally,” he whispered, his breath tickling my nose.

I giggled shaking my head. “Don’t ruin the moment, Potter.”

“James,” he corrected.

“James,” I echoed, and it felt right in a way I couldn’t explain.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t hide my smile. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Never.” He placed a quick kiss on my lips. 

[owlwithanapple]

Eternal Engagement Chapter 03

Cowardice and stubbornness

During breakfast, phone rings in a corner of Wayne manor. There's a call. But Alfred has gone out to buy some food. The phone keeps ringing, thinking that if it's an emergency or something unexpected happens, there's really no other way but for you to answer it.

You follow the direction of the sound, approach it and answer it. Before you can say hello, Damian's voice comes from the phone, "Pennyworth, bring me the suit in my closet, the dark one, remember."

"Huh?! Wait a minute, Damian—" Before you tell him a word, the phone beeps, indicating that it has been hung up.

Alfred hasn't come back yet, Damian's tone seems urgent. You feel nervous outside his bedroom door, feel a desolate breath coming from the door. You wonder if he will be angry that you broke into his room without permission. You shake head and take a deep breath. You are Superman's daughter, what are you afraid of?

Turning the doorknob and opening the door with a click, you can see the neat and orderly bedroom at a glance. The desk is full of business folders related to Wayne Enterprises, each with a lot of information, he has put a lot of effort into it. As expected of the heir of the Wayne family, you don't go near the desk to avoid messing it up.

Opening the closet, you are confused. What the hell are these things? All the neat suits are hung inside, but most of them are dark. What exactly is the dark color he is talking about? Does it mean that the inner wear is dark, the outer wear is dark, or both are dark? What is the style of Damian Wayne's clothes? It's hard to tell the difference. You should reflect on yourself and read more fashion magazines.

You touch each piece with hand and feel the texture is very comfortable, each piece has a light fragrance. You take a suit jacket to smell, a light woody fragrance that is not pungent permeates. It smells so good... Wait! Why did you do something perverted?! You quickly put the suit jacket back to its place, almost forgetting the main purpose.

When you woke up, he had followed Bruce to work. Don't know what his style today, white or dark inner wear, have no idea. If Alfred is here, maybe he will choose the right one with his eyes closed. Ignore it, you choose a dark gray suit jacket, a white shirt and a black tie.

You carefully put them neatly into the clothing bag, zip it up and seal it to prevent damage. Next, you have to change your clothes. Bruce and Damian's dressing style is the image role model of Wayne Enterprises. You took out phone and searched for women's wear, the results showed that you were surprised.

You usually wear casual clothes such as tights, sports jackets, tight jeans and sneakers. You have no experience in this kind of dressing, elegant dresses and exquisite and fashionable shoes. You take a deep breath, you can't lose face of Wayne's family, this time you go all out.

Go back to your bedroom and open the closet immediately. Great, there are a few dresses and high heels that Bruce gave you before. It's the first time to try this kind of style, very nervous for no reason. Jon will be shocked to faint on the spot when he sees it, always saying that his sister doesn't like to dress up.

You dress up simply, wearing a white knee-length dress and black low-heeled retro shoes. Open the drawer to find jewelry to wear, and the first thing you see is the ring box with the engagement ring. Damian always wears it on his finger, but you don't. You think about it and decide to wear it this time.

Arriving at Wayne Enterprises —

You stepped into Wayne Enterprises with clothing bag. The exaggerated outdoor and indoor styles are surrounded by busy office workers. It is a place full of vitality and busyness. You saw the receptionist at the front desk just handling business. She put down her phone and typed on the keyboard.

You gathered courage walked forward with clothing bag. You tapped fingers on her desk. She heard it and cast eyes on you. She stood up with a smiles and said tactfully, "Excuse me, is there anything I can help you with? Or do you have any appointments?"

"I'm here to deliver clothes for Mr. Damian." You pointed at the clothing bag.

She raised eyebrows and cast a suspicious look. "I'm sorry that I can't accommodate strangers. It's usually delivered by Mr. Pennyworth. Please go back."

You understand her position, but know from the phone call just now that Damian is in a hurry. "How about you help me deliver it to him? He is in a hurry."

She bowed politely and shook her head. "I'm so sorry, I can't make an exception."

She sat back and continued to work. You sighed but saw the engagement ring. You were Superman's daughter and Damian Wayne's fiancée. You should be confident instead of shrinking like a puppy.

You tapped to attract her attention again. When she wanted to repeat what she just said, you said without hesitation, "Please tell Damian Wayne that his fiancée is here. The name is Y/N Kent."

She was surprised before could start to say anything, you found a seat by the window and sat down. She was stunned for a moment when saw you were not leaving. She had no choice but to call Damian's office. Unintentionally, your super hearing was awakened again, could hear the voices and conversations in the entire building, including the receptionist who was making a call.

"Sorry to bother you, there is a woman who says she is your fiancée who wants to see you. Her name is Y/N Kent." Damian hung up the phone without replying just after she finished speaking. You trembled and clenched your hands, thinking, is he angry?

A few minutes later, your super hearing disappeared again. You pinched earlobe and sighed, why did your superpowers always exist intermittently. The receptionist kept staring at you with a suspicious. The elevator door opened, and Damian walked out. People around him greeted and bowed politely.

The receptionist pointed at you, immediately stood up from your seat and held the bag tightly, nervousness emerging. Damian looked at you was stunned for a second. Your style of dress was completely different from before. If it weren't for the long dark black hair and sea blue eyes, he almost failed to recognize you.

You walked slowly noticed there were traces of coffee on his suit jacket. No wonder he was so anxious to ask Alfred to deliver it. You nervously handed him the bag in your hand, "This is for you. Alfred is not at home. I delivered it as soon as I received the call, but I don't know if this is the one you want..."

He fixed his eyes on the engagement ring, a sense of satisfaction filled his heart. Then there was your dress. He had never seen you dressed so exquisitely. For a moment, the word he thought of was charming. You tilted head curiously because he kept staring at you without saying anything.

You looked down, wondering if your outfit was weird or didn't meet the requirements. He reached out and gently lifted your chin with his fingers to let you look at him. He smiled proudly, "Be more confident, don't look down."

"Oh...." You murmured, he took the bag from you.

Under everyone's attention, he took your hand and led you to the elevator, which quickly went up to his office floor. He took out the access card scanned the door, which opened automatically. It was the first time you stepped into this place, you couldn't help but look around, feeling very cool. He immediately took off his suit jacket and put it on the chair. There was a little trace of coffee on his white inner wear.

He opened the bag took out the dark grey suit jacket, white shirt and black tie you chose. He looked at you with his emerald eyes and raised his eyebrows said, "Did you choose it?"

You nodded slightly and said awkwardly, "Yes, does it not meet your requirements?"

"I didn't say it, don't always overthink about it. I'll go to the back to change, you wait there." He quickly left the office and walked to the bathroom.

You sat in a comfortable chair and waited, suddenly someone opened the door and it was Bruce who walked in. He said with a very serious expression, "Damian, I handed you the documents - eh? Y/N, why are you here? Why are you dressed like this?"

You immediately stood up, "Uncle Alfred is not at home, I brought Damian a change of clothes."

"Wow, that's thoughtful. If I remember correctly, this dress of yours is-" Bruce stared at the dress on you with a smug smile.

"Shut up, father. Don't say unnecessary words." Damian appeared from behind. He had already changed into the clothes you chose. He was adjusting his tie and sleeves.

All the dresses and shoes in your bedroom closet in Wayne manor were not given by Bruce. They were bought by Damian in various countries during his business trips. He is a tsundere, as Dick said, who is stubborn and takes care of his dignity. You didn't know that Damian picked them for you. You mistakenly thought they were given by Bruce.

"Not bad, quite handsome. You have good taste in matching clothes for your future husband." Bruce leaned over looked Damian up and down chuckled.

Damian put the coffee-stained suit jacket and shirt into the bag zipped it up and sealed it. When you reached out to take it, he unexpectedly held your hand and intertwined your fingers. "Father, she and I are going out to have lunch."

He took the garment bag and pulled you out of his office, leaving Bruce alone in a daze. He couldn't help cover his mouth and laugh. He really couldn't get tired of Damian's stubborn personality. Bruce took out his phone secretly took a picture of the back of the two of you holding hands, then found Clark Kent's chat room to send the photo.

CK: Wow, they are making progress.

LL: Hmph! Damn Damian.

BW: Hahaha, give them some time.

CK: Has the little princess changed at all?

BW: Not yet, I will observe for a few more days.

BW: But... she is starting to gain confidence.

LL: Really?! Great! I was really worried that she would feel inferior because she doesn't have super powers.

CK: I believe in her, it just takes some time.

Cafe near Wayne Enterprises -

He parked the car and got out. When you unbuckled seat belt and were about to get out, he opened the passenger door leaned over extend his hand to you. The sun's rays shone on the earth. His emerald eyes looked so clear when you looked at them closely. His height and broad shoulders were enough to block the sun for you. You felt the hand extended to you. If you hadn't held his hand, you really wouldn't have noticed that his hand was so big and warm.

You two have known each other for so long, playing together. At the beginning, he was shorter than you and Jon, but now he has caught up with Jon in height, you still haven't grown taller. When you stand next to him, you are only as tall as his shoulders. The little Robin at the beginning has transformed from a boy into a man. And you are becoming more inferior because you are entangled in the fact that don't have superpowers. You are trapped in the abyss and not as cheerful optimistic as before.

Wonder Damian willing to see your optimistic side now...

You pouted to show dissatisfaction with his height. He raised eyebrows and put his hands on the car door. "What's that expression on your face? Are you dissatisfied with me?"

"You are too tall. Why are you and Jon so tall? What do you eat?" You tilted head and stared at his face, then moved your eyes to his tie.

He raised eyebrows and smiled, not mocking but happy. It has been a long time since he has seen you with this personality. Finally, he has waited for this moment. The naughty and noisy little girl back then. He stretched out hand and ran his finger across the tip of your nose. "Drink more milk, do more exercise, and reduce inferiority complex."

"You are so annoying." You rolled your eyes and moved your eyes to his chest instead of looking directly at him.

"Always." He smiled arrogantly.

You lowered eyes. "Just now, the super hearing appeared again..."

"Really...? Is there anything else abnormal?" He asked, leaning against the car door.

You shook head to indicate no, he sighed silently. He closed the car door walked into the cafe, leaving you alone in the car. A few minutes later, the driver's door opened, he got in the car handed you a bag with cakes in it. He closed the car door and leaned back in his seat with a cup of coffee in his hand, which he put into his mouth and tasted carefully.

"I just contacted Pennyworth, when you return to the manor, go to the batcave immediately. I arranged for him to set up the Meta-Analyzer to test your body." He pinched his nose and fell into deep thought, with a very serious attitude.

"Meta-Analyzer... I didn't have any conclusion at the time." You murmured.

"Maybe there will be changes, or do you not believe in yourself?" He focused his eyes on your face, his tone seemed to hit you but not with bad words.

You opened mouth and closed it again, you were very nervous. Afraid that the conclusion would be the same, but you can't go on like this. As he said, don't be inferior anymore, you are very tired. You showed a firm look and told him, "I believe in myself."

He curled his lips smiled and nodded slightly, "Very well, future Mrs. Wayne."

Late evening -

Damian had just got home from get off work, as soon as he parked his car, Bruce was surprised his son immediately opened the car door and rushed into the manor. He quickly went to the batcave, when arrived, he took off suit jacket, rolled up his sleeves to expose his arms and untied his tie to show his collarbone, and threw it all aside.

"Pennyworth, where is she?" He approached the batcomputer.

"Master Damian, I have handled it as you ordered, she is currently resting in the bedroom." Alfred stood aside and said silently, pouring tea into his cup.

He nodded to show that he understood, cast his eyes on the batcomputer and sat down in the chair immediately, his fingers began to tap the keyboard non-stop, the large screen displayed your test data, and complex chart analysis was displayed at once. Bruce arrived at the batcave and saw Alfred picking up Damian's suit jacket and tie, Damian's eyes were focused on the content displayed on the screen.

After about an hour, he finally sorted out all the analysis and memorized it in his mind. Bruce stood behind him, leaning aside and looking at the big screen. "What's changed?"

"Beyond imagination, it's no longer a mortal's physique. It's the same as Jon's conclusion, the only difference is that her superpowers haven't erupted." Damian leaned back in his chair and sighed silently, tapping the keyboard with his fingers.

Bruce fell into deep thought. "Damian, I've always been curious, are you saying bad things to her to increase her negative emotions in order to force her to use her superpowers?"

Damian, who was drinking tea, trembled in his hands, he didn't answer but chose to remain silent.

"Damian, you can show that you care about her, you don't need to hide it. You are no longer in the League of Assassins now, you can be more-." Bruce gently pressed on his shoulder to try to comfort him.

There was an echo of Damian putting down the cup in the Batcave. He was calm but very nervous inside. He looked at Bruce lowered his eyes with a bitter expression. "Father, I understand your concerns. But what I want to do now is to stimulate her superpowers and rebuild her previous confidence. That's all."

Damian got up from the chair and walked past Bruce. Bruce grabbed his arm to stop him. "Damian, let her step into your life. You want her."

He touched Bruce's hand gently pushed it away. He remained calm and slowly looked at Bruce sighed helplessly. "Father, I'll go to training first."

His footsteps echoed clearly in the batcave, Alfred put his hand on Bruce's shoulder remained silent. Bruce no choice to guide him silently. Maybe one day when Damian is willing to open his heart, things will get better, especially the confusion of both of you.

"Alfred, prepare coffee for me. I need to tell Clark about Y/N's physical changes." He sat down leaned back in the chair. To distract himself from his worries about Damian, his fingers kept tapping the keyboard.

Alfred prepared the coffee put it aside and handed the phone to Bruce. After calling Clark, he told him everything he knew. Clark was of course happy for you when he heard the news, but at the same time, a worry emerged. Although you have superhuman genes, your superpowers are still a mystery.

The Batcave was filled with the sounds of panting and punching. As Bruce was talking to Clark, he noticed through the screen that another surveillance camera was watching Damian in training. His breathing was rapid, movements were a bit messy, and his batarang holding position was not standard. The conversation just now made him uneasy.

"Master Damian is not in good condition today." Alfred stood aside and said frankly.

"Let him be, he is no longer the boy who rushed around." Alfred's frankness was true. Bruce replied calmly continued to discuss your superpowers with Clark, but his eyes would still stay on the big screen.

"Perhaps it was the influence brought by Ms. Talia and the League of Assassins." Alfred's emotionless words made Bruce ponder the past.

Clark was still talking to Bruce on the phone, but distracted and ignored Clark's words. Looking at the big screen with a sharp gaze, a trace of worry surged into his mind. Even if the two were a father and son, he didn't understand Damian thoroughly enough.

"Clark...Did Jon and Y/N have any moments that made you feel helpless?" Bruce revealed the confusion he wanted to express in bitterness.

Clark on the phone fell into silence, thinking for a few seconds to find the right words to guide Bruce "Every moment is helpless. From the time held a little baby in hand until now..."

"Is that so..." Bruce muttered with a sigh of relief.

"But since they choose to be our children, we should accept their growth. Maybe we are helpless, but this is the way to grow up." Clark was confused about this matter, but still maintained an optimistic attitude and expressed his inner thoughts.

"Thanks, Clark. I will learn more about the situation of your little princess, will inform you if there are any problems." Bruce hung up the phone after speaking.

The echo of the fists became clearer, the panting sound was still messy. Pound by pound, the fists hit the dummy with fierce momentum, like a beast gnawing at its prey. Damian kept venting his emotions and releasing confusion, the past in his mind seemed to reappear in his memories.

There was a memory that Damian returned to League Of Assassins, one of his hometowns and birthplaces. He once told his mother Talia about this marriage with you, but he did not get a blessing but Talia's harsh and unpleasant response, "Superman's daughter is your fiancée, well done, son. This is one of the new forces of the future League Of Assassins.

"Mother, what do you mean by this?" He clenched his fists and frowned at her.

"When did you become so stupid, don't you understand? Superman's genes are very strong, an invincible and powerful existence. You marry his daughter, and the new life you two will give birth to in the future will definitely be an indestructible miracle." Talia drew her sword and her delicate fingers touched the line and the tip of the string.

"Giving birth to new life..." He gritted his teeth a trace of anger surged up.

Talia pointed sword at Damian's chest and smiled, but deep in heart she was plotting like a snake. "Your father arranged the only right thing, a wise choice, Superman's daughter and Batman's son. The future League Of Assassins will be stronger, and your grandfather will be glorious."

Damian had a blank expression but was very annoyed. In a rage, he snatched Talia's sword pointed it at her neck. Talia took a step back remained alert. His emotions fluctuated, he swore words to his mother without hesitation, "I don't need her to give birth to any life for me, and this marriage is not for the future of League Of Assassins."

"You are so stupid. You are an assassin. Don't forget you have our blood in body. With such a powerful gene that will merge with you, you don't want to use this opportunity to change the fate of your offspring." Talia said to Damian sarcastically and arrogantly.

"I am also Robin, Batman's sidekick. Even my fiancée has strong genes, it doesn't mean that she needs to become a reproductive tool for the benefit of future generations." After playing with the sword, he threw it on the ground kicked it at Talia's feet, as if he was fearless.

Talia felt that she had said too much and didn't take his feelings into consideration, but in order to make the League of Assassins stronger, she couldn't bear to compromise because of her emotions and Damian was her son. "If I had known this, I shouldn't have let you follow your father. You become weak. If you and your father stood by me, our family would not be broken, we would be strong and indestructible."

"I am the grandson of Ra's al Ghul, the son of you and Bruce Wayne. It is my decision who to follow. And my engagement with her is a matter between the two of us. It is not for anyone else, no one can tell us what to do." Damian retorted her mercilessly.

"Damian al Ghul, you will regret it. She will become our property in the future, and so will you. You two can't escape the fate of the League of Assassins, no matter how invincible you are." Talia glared at him, her words were full of a strong sense of mission and meaningful meaning.

"I will take it as your blessing. Goodbye, mother. I will come again. I hope you don't have anything to do with my life and hers. Damian curled his lips, turned around and walked towards the exit to leave the world full of blood.

Talia stood there watched her son leave, her long dark brown hair fluttering in the wind. She clenched fists and looked at him fiercely, cursing, "Oh my son, Bruce my beloved. You two are as stupid as a little bat hiding in a cave, too weak to be saved."

A stinging feeling brought Damian back to reality from the nightmare memory. You were bandaging the wound on his fist. He did not refuse your touch, but waited quietly for you to treat his bloody fist. You applied a thick layer of cream on his fist and then fixed it with a bandage.

"Thanks. Pennyworth will take care of it, you don't have to do this." The first thing he did was to take back his hand, put the engagement ring on the chain and put it on. Then he stroked his fist with his hand and drew circles on the bandaged part.

You were puzzled by his habit of never taking off his engagement ring, but didn't ask him the reason. You felt a little happy , as if he valued this engagement very much. "Uncle Bruce and Uncle Alfred are busy, I came to the batcave saw you sitting here in a daze..."

"Is that so? Thinking about something, bad memories..." He scratched his head.

You took a towel gently wiped the sweat from his forehead. He shuddered thought you wanted to attack him, because the memory just now made him more alert. But you didn't attack, just wiped his sweat, you murmured "Do you want to tell me? Maybe you will feel better?"

He glanced at you with a thorn in his words "It has nothing to do with you, don't worry about it."

You felt that his attitude indicated that he didn't want to continue the discussion, you nodded slightly to show that you understood. When you were about to leave, he pulled you into his arms, you sat on his lap. He held your waist tightly with both hands, your back leaned against his chest, his face buried on your shoulders. A wave of tension came over you , and his breath on your skin made you feel itchy.

"Damian?? What's wrong with you?" You said with a tremor in your voice.

Recalling what Talia said, he didn't dare to tell you what his mother said. He didn't dare to imagine that he and you had fallen to that state, creating nightmares for him to give birth to life. He didn't need you to give birth to life for him and League Of Assassins, he just wanted you to be happy, but he couldn't say these words "I'm fine, stay like this for a while, okay?"

You glanced at him over your shoulder and nodded silently, holding his arm around your waist with both hands to give him a little comfort "Okay."

— Chapter 3 The End —

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[jam3sacaster]

“I’ll be gentle, angel.”

(Rivals) Rupert Campbell-Black x Reader

Suggestion by @nebulastarr / Rupert discovers it’s readers first time.

18+ FANFIC / SMUT. Reader character aged at 21.

Hopefully isn’t too disgustingly dirty, or too long. Rather let myself get carried away. • indicates the beginning of the smut. Please request more if you want to see more! 🩷 Can do longer pieces.

“Good evening, Mr Campbell-Black.” You rehearse aloud, having placed a gentle knock on the regal front door of Penscombe Court, the clock ticking just past 10pm. No, far too formal, you decide.

“Good evening, Rupert.” You chime once again, self-cringing as the words fall loosely from your mouth.

“Good evening, angel.” You hear a gruff, distinguished voice reply. Pure embarrassment ripples through your body as your eyes dart immediately to the effortlessly handsome man stood before you. Before you could reply, he pushed the door ajar to let you in to his magnificent home. By instinct, you make your way to the lounge — where the flames dance and crackle in the fireplace and cast an amber glow against the two freshly-poured tumblers of Scotch. “Drinks already?” You ask, sitting on the sofa and attempting to take us as little room as possible.

Not once averting his piercing gaze from you, Rupert takes a seat next to you and takes a large swig of his Scotch. “Helps to loosen us both up. Stop any awkward conversations.” He replies, undressing you with his eyes already. “Tell me, angel,” Rupert begins, “You have been here 3 nights in a row now and haven’t even so much as looked at me in the wrong way. Why is that?” He finishes, in an interrogating tone.

The silence thickens around you both, and the warmth of the fire wraps itself around you like a comforting hug. Shuffling the cardigan off your shoulders, you take a gulp from your drink and, for the first time, hold eye contact with Mr Campbell-Black. “Because… I know what you want from me. And that scares me.” A tiny voice replies that you recognise to be your own. How pathetic! You need to exude confidence around Rupert before he chews you up and spits you out. Without replying, Rupert pushes out an almost sarcastic-sounding laugh and lowers his head towards his right shoulder, cracking it in the process, and again towards the left.

•

“Darling, you’ve got nothing to be scared of.” He smirks, after what feels like an eternity. As he speaks, he places a gentle hand on your knee and blood rushes to your cheeks, immediately flushing them a bright crimson. It’s now or never — the inner voice in your head speaks as you stand up in front of him, and shimmy out of the figure-hugging black dress, stepping out of it and kicking it away from you.

For once in his life, Rupert is speechless as he takes a moment to drink in the picturesque image in front of him. A woman built of soft, fleshy curves and intricate lines, held together by red lingerie — an elaborately woven bra and thong and black suspenders held up with black garters. The best piece you owned, ready to be christened by Rupert’s yearning fingers peeling them from your body. “Wow angel.” He manages to spit out, eyes unmoving from the marvel image of your body. He sits at the edge of the sofa and smothers his face amongst your breasts, breathing in the feminine aroma of your skin. “You have no idea how hard you make me.” He adds, pulling back to rip the shirt from his body.

Now it’s your turn to marvel at the man that is Rupert Campbell-Black. Bulging veins sitting atop rippling muscles. Carnal lust aflame in his eyes. And, most importantly, the most impressively large bulge growing in his trousers. After you had wiped the drool from the corner of your lips, you lay yourself down on the sofa. Within seconds, he had stripped himself of his trousers and was leaning over you, propping himself up with one arm. The look in his eyes told you all you need to know. Inching backwards, he pulled your thongs from your body, revealing how terribly wet you’d became from his stripping. “My God.” Rupert smirked, instinctively delving his tongue between your folds. Arousal left your lips in laboured moans, and your fingers gripped a handful of his jet black locks. “You’re so fucking wet.” He spoke, pulling himself away and taking a hand to his cock, stroking it slowly and readying himself to enter you.

“Rupert…” You whisper breathlessly, scared and reluctant at the sheer size of his manhood. Readying yourself, you place your hand on his cock, pushing his own hand away and matching his rhythm. “I don’t know about this.” You mutter.

“Why? Don’t be scared, angel. I won’t bite… Unless you want me to.” Rupert chuckles, and pushes out a moan at the soft touch of your hand. Rupert grabs the base of his cock and lines it up with your soft opening. He attempts to shove himself in, but within seconds, winces in pleasure at the tightness. He opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it. “Rupert… I’m…”

“Darling, you’re so tight.” He bites his lip hard enough to draw blood. “Are you?…” He asks, not wanting to make assumptions. Is it really that obvious? “Rupert, this is my first time.” You speak gently under your breath. Closing your eyes momentarily and expecting to hear his condescending chuckle, you quickly open one eye to see a soft smile across his mouth.

“I’ll be gentle, angel.”

He replies earnestly, and with pinpoint precision, softly pushes his way inside you. Looking up at him, you capture a glimpse of something you’re certain no one has ever seen before. Rupert Campbell-Black encapsulated in complete ecstasy. “Fuck.” He manages to spit out, his words fighting for power over your ever growing moans. With each thrust, you felt the knot in your stomach loosen. Rupert’s eyes were glazed over in pleasure as he tenderly thrust in and out of you.

“If this is how wet you get for me, you must come again.” He spoke breathlessly, grabbing handfuls of your breasts as he spoke against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. “Fuck, Rupert, please go slow.” You splutter, wincing ever so slightly, stretched out completely around the girth of him.

“Sorry, darling. Is this better?” He asked, tentatively making his strokes slower. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes in euphoria. Tension builds slowly in your lower stomach as his large member managed to hit the right spot every time. “You feel incredible.” Rupert manages to speak, as the intensity of his thrusts slowly speeds up. You can feel him twitching inside of you. You cannot believe you have just lost your virginity to THE Rupert Campbell-Black.

Flipping yourself over onto all fours, you positioned your shapely arse as an offering for the rugged man, and he grabbed a firm hold of your hips and began thrusting himself into you. Moans escaped your lips faster than you’d have liked. With each pulsating thrust inside your body, Rupert drew nearer and nearer his orgasm. “Cum inside me,” You pleaded, almost begging him to release himself. “Please, Rupert, I need it.”

Rupert placed a gentle fingertip to your lips, then ran his thumb across your tongue, desperately wanting to feel every single inch of your body. His abs tensed and twisted — his body preparing for his release. “Fuck angel, I’m going to cum.” He spat, and a smirk pulled at your mouth. Never in your life have you been so ready for anything. “Cum. Cum for me, Rupert. I need it so badly.” You reply, bringing your arm to his level to scoop up his balls and inch him closer to ecstasy. He paused for a moment, and pushed out a low grunt. You felt his cock twitch and pulsate as spurts of his hot load shot deep inside you, so much so that it began to drip outside of you with every weakened thrust from Mr Campbell-Black. “Fuck… Oh, fuck.” Rupert exclaimed as he pulled his dripping cock from your wet spot, and you lowered your mouth to lap up every missed drop of cum. You had never seen him to enamoured in desire. You wanted to please him this intensely every time — you and only you. In a pool of sweat, Rupert collapsed next to you and huffed out a sigh of relief.

“Angel, you were incredible. Thank you.”

[ellepooff]

daddy toji gets upset with you :(

my masterlist

warnings: nsfw, smut, daddy kink, spanking, breeding, mean toji

“‘m sorry daddy! ‘m so sorry.. really didn’t mean it, i promise.” you sniffled and whined as toji spanked you over his lap, making your pussy cry almost as much as your eyes were. 

“didn’t mean it, huh?” he scoffed as he hit your sopping pussy, harder this time. a strained gasp left your mouth as your pussy clenched around nothing. 

“you know better than to do things like that, baby… y’r s’pposed be my good girl.” he said in a sad tone like he was disappointed in you. 

you let out a pitiful whine as new tears began to wet your lashes, “i am, daddy, i am!” honestly, the last thing you wanted was to be a bad girl, especially since you always promised your daddy that you would be good for him when he was gone. it made you feel kinda bad that you broke the rules. you really tried your best, but the tingly, aching feeling in your core got to be too much to ignore. you knew it was against the rules to touch yourself without his permission, but you thought you wouldn’t get caught. 

you sniffled a few more times as he rubbed your little cunt, soothing it for a moment before giving it another hard slap. “ah-!” you cried out, but it was silenced by toji’s next words.

“i didn’t know good girls broke rules, baby… did you?” he stopped his relent on your pussy, and spanked your ass instead— one hard slap on each cheek. you felt a wave of guilt come over you as you shook your head no in response. he reached down and roughly grabbed your jaw, squeezing your cheeks together in the process and harshly whispered, “tell me, baby.” 

you squeaked out a small “no, daddy,” before he let go of your face and squeezed your hip, indicating for you to get up, and helped you straddle his lap. you kept your head down, avoiding his gaze at all costs. you could feel your pussy soaking his briefs and you couldn’t help but softly grind against him.

he noticed and chuckled at how you were somehow ashamed but still rubbing your pussy all over him, “wanna make it all better, baby?” 

your wide, tearful eyes looked into his at his words, feeling hopeful as you pleaded softly, “yes, daddy please? will you please help me?” you punctuated your words with another grind of your hips, a little rougher this time.

responding with a smirk, he pulled he briefs down to let his hard dick slap against his abdomen, just inches away from your slit. he let out a groan as he stroked it a few times under your gaze. your mouth was watering at the sight. the little rule break you had earlier was nothing compared to how toji could make you feel.

“use it, sweetheart.” he stated with his eyes locked on yours. your brows furrowed at the fact that he was gonna make you do it alone, but you guessed it was what you deserved after your little stunt earlier. 

“m’kay, daddy.” you whispered as you lowered yourself down on his cock, stretching out your little pussy so nicely. he let his head fall back as you did, feeling how warm and wet you were. 

you rode and bounced on him, letting little whimpers and moans fall from your mouth, “thank you, daddy,” and “feels so so good, daddy.” all while he was sitting with his hands behind his head, letting out his own praises, “that’s it, baby,” or “keep going, sweetheart… doing so good.” he let you work his dick until you were coming undone for him, louder and breathier moans of his name coming from your lips as you finally came. 

holding your hips, he hovered you over his lap and pounded into your pussy rough and hard before letting out a deep growl as he stuffed you full. 

you snuggled close to him, feeling him tenderly kiss you, thinking maybe it was worth it to break the rules.

xxx

[melobin]

thinking about sungchan who just loves to finger fuck you, it’s his favourite thing to do to you. he loves watching the way you completely fall apart each time he does it, how your reaction only becomes hotter and somehow more endearing each time it happens.

his favourite way to have you is when you’re laid down and he’s sat up beside you, he gets to see all of you as you wither and squirm on his fingers, gets to watch your body shake as you struggle to handle the way he’s curling them repeatedly against the squishy spot inside of you and smiling sweetly at you. he can’t help but enjoy teasing you, cooing at you sweetly whilst you cry out about it being too much.

one of sungchan’s favourite things is the sound your cunt makes when he curls his fingers inside of you, he always tells you it sounds like she’s crying out for him too. how it’s so good that even she can’t stay quiet. he loves the way your body shivers when he speaks about her, both of you know how utterly filthy it is for him to be referring to your cunt in such a manner but both of you knowing just how right he is at the same time.

he likes the way nights like indicate to him what’s coming next, probably his favourite part of stuffing his fingers inside of. making you squirt. he loves nothing more than causing you to make a complete mess of yourself, him and the sheets beneath you. watching your entire body shake and your fingers reach out to dig into his bicep whilst you cry out about it being too much, how you’re so close, so so so close and how you pathetically whimper out please please please without even knowing what you’re begging for. he loves watching how your yes squeeze shut and how your voice turns from desperate begging to barely letting a sound out as you cum seemingly impossibly hard.

he pulls his fingers out of you after that, slowly bringing them to your clit so he can circle it slowly whilst you attempt to calm down from such an intense orgasm, he knows he’s making it harder for you but that’s what he enjoys.

once you’ve calmed down he kneels himself up between your legs and holds your thighs apart, sinking his cock into your heat slowly, letting every inch of himself stretch you open. making sure you feel every ridge and vein that lines the length of his cock. he attempts to be in control of himself but he always ends up digging his fingers into your skin a little harder and releasing a breathless moan why he feels your walls hug his cock. he praises you for taking him so well, promises to make you feel good whilst the tone of his voice shakes. makes sure to keep your legs spread wide apart whilst he thrusts into you, letting his thrusts become quicker and harsher as time goes by, basking in the sounds of your cunt sucking him him and your moans getting louder the longer he fucks you.

there’s an extra sensitivity to you after he’s made you squirt and he loves it, loves how desperate and clingy you become from how intense your previous orgasm was, promises to himself to make you cum even harder for your next one.

[b14augrana]

Ad Astra Per Aspera

Nothing gold can stay

Alexia Putellas x teen!reader

pt. 3 masterlist

Warnings: this story contains depictions of alcoholism, adultery, and familial issues. read at your own discretion. this chapter in specific discusses themes of abuse and alcoholism.

A/N: the long awaited part 2 to ‘ad astra per aspera’! this took a lot of thinking and scrapped passages to really get this on point, i hope you enjoy 🫶🏼

"You’re early today!”

You smiled halfheartedly at Magdalene and Dani’s teacher, nodding at her. “Yeah, uh, I’ve gotta get to work a bit earlier today so…”

“Not a problem, I’ll see you later,” the woman responded. You gave Magdalene and Dani one last hug before returning to your car, having hope that you’d finally be early to training for once and go the day without being berated by Alexia.

You didn’t want to relive the other night’s training, not in your mind, and definitely not in person. With you, Alexia was a completely different person to the patron saint of Barça that everyone painted her as. You wanted to change that and show her you weren’t as irresponsible and careless as she thought you out to be, but you couldn’t.

It was a relief to see the training pitch parking lot barely populated as it came into sight. There was maybe two cars, which meant you were on time. How incredible.

Before every training, a hopeful feeling swelled inside of you — one of happiness, because you saw football as a means of enjoyment and something to look forward to when all else came crashing down in your life. It was short lived of course, but like a phoenix, it always came back one way or another. Were you wrong for believing in your sport to help you?

"(Y/N), you're early.. for once."

You knew that voice all too well. There was a surprised tone that Alexia's voice held as she spoke, and you knew she expected you to show up late once again if not miss practice completely.

"Yeah, surprise," you replied dully, sitting down on the bench to put your boots on.

"Why are you early?" she asked, and it was a bit of a stupid question.

'Well, after you yelled at me in front of everybody the other day, I decided that if I have to drop all three of my siblings off to school, I might as well do it as early as possible so I don't have to worry about getting screamed at and humiliated at half past nine in the morning!'

"Dropped my siblings off earlier today," you mumbled instead, eyes fixated on the ground as you spoke. You were sure that eventually, your fear would be the one to corrupt your family completely, but you couldn't tell Alexia; it was equivalent to opening yourself up to her, being vulnerable even after trying so hard to maintain a tough front.

She glanced at you, her eyebrow just barely raised but her mouth idle. You cinched your laces tightly and sprung to your feet, very aware of her gaze fixed on you as you grabbed a ball from the bag and dribbled it over to the nearest wall, preparing for the training session ahead.

More of the team started to file through the pitch gates. You could hear their bags dropping to the ground as you passed against the wall, and as Mapi passed behind you she squeezed your shoulder. “I’m glad to see you, (Y/N),” she said, a smile on her face.

For once, as training started, you didn’t feel dreadful. You were excited and motivated by the good start to the morning, which showed in the newfound pep in your step and enthusiasm around the pitch.

After a long while, the sun began to set, which indicated the end of training. You sat down at the bench, unlacing your boots and trading them for sandals. Unexpectedly, Alexia sat down beside you, saying, “Good job today. You did well.”

“Graciés,” you responded, standing up while slinging your bag over your shoulder, “See you tomorrow.”

She watched you leave through the gates, her eyes unwavering on your figure disappearing around the corner.

You lived next to a lovely elderly lady named Margalida. She was a sweet woman, always saying bon día and bona tarda to you and your siblings whenever she saw you. Sometimes, after you returned from training and picked up your siblings, she invited you four into her home to share pastries with her. You always accepted, of course, because it was much better than subjecting yourself to the olfactory assault that was your home, and she was also a widow that you figured needed some company from time to time.

When you weren't home, you couldn't monitor your mother's behaviour; praying that it would stay somewhat normal would have to suffice. You didn’t know whether Margalida knew about the true nature of your household or if she thought you were all naturally raucous.

You pulled into the driveway, parking the car as the doors opened and your siblings got out of the car. “(Y/N),” Magdalene said slowly, imploring you to look at her curiously. “Who are those people?” she pointed ahead, and that’s when you noticed Margalida at your doorstep, alongside two police officers and another woman. She looked like a regular office worker, but you weren’t an idiot; she was obviously a social worker, which could only mean one thing. A bad thing.

"You three stay in the car for a bit, okay? I'm gonna go talk to these people," you said to your siblings, motioning to the car as you turned around again and walked towards the people.

You felt nothing but dread in your gut as you approached them. One of the cops, who was talking to a distressed looking Margalida, looked at you and began to speak. "Miss (Y/L/N)?"

You nodded slowly, "Before we talk, can I just send my siblings inside?"

"That won't be possible," the officer said, making you raise an eyebrow, "...Because we're here regarding a call about a person inside, which we now know isn't you."

"I heard yelling from inside," Margalida added. "It was loud, and– and it sounded like there was crashing, from things being thrown around."

She took a deep breath, looking at you sympathetically. "I thought one of you was being hurt, so I called the police."

"I know your situation with the..." she paused, gesturing to the rubbish bin. You spun around, your eyes widening at the sight of it. Cans and bottles galore filled the bin to the brim, threatening to spill out. You could count at least ten, and that was only at the surface of the deep bin. You could recall the rubbish being collected just a few days ago, and now it was basically full.

She looked at you, her eyes pitiful. You hated it, so much; pity made you feel like a kid, and it angered you that the only time you got to relive any sort of childishness was when someone noticed you were suffering, not because you actually had the liberty to behave like one again. Where was the pity when you actually were a kid, having to wake up and stay afloat to support three other kids?

"Who else lives here, other than you and your — I'm assuming — siblings?" the other cop asked.

"My mother. My dad left a few years ago," you mumbled, looking at the ground.

"Is she home right now?" he asked, and you nodded. "Yeah. She's probably asleep, so if you did knock on the door, that's why nobody opened it."

"Asleep or blacked out?" his partner suddenly added. You looked at him, clenching your jaw as you shrugged. "How am I supposed to know? I've been at work all day."

"What do you do for work?"

"I'm a footballer."

"For FC Barcelona?"

"Buy a ticket and maybe you'll find out."

You ended up sitting across from the two officers and the social worker in a dingy, dark room scarcely furnished with only a table, three chairs and a dirty window to accessorise it. This time, the woman did most of the talking while the cops just surveyed the conversation. Magdalene, Dani and Lorenzo were sitting in the waiting room of the station — you didn't want to drag them along, but you didn't have much of a choice.

"Can you tell us a little bit about your family history that might correspond with the things reported to us today?" she asked, leaning across the table.

"My dad left when I was, I think.. 13. Cheated on my mum and left us all for another woman. My mum, uh, got out of control. She didn't take it well," you replied, not looking up once as your gaze was fixed on the chestnut-stained, chipped table.

"I see. Well, from the contents of the rubbish bin, I presume her coping had something to do with alcohol," the woman said. As if her apathy hadn't been obvious from the start, it was dripping off her every word and showing her true intents; not to help you, but to get this over and done with and throw your siblings into foster care, then consider her job done and get paid for it.

You nodded at her claim nonetheless, picking at the paint of the table. "Yeah."

"Have you or your siblings ever been subject to abuse, from either of your parents?" she continued

"No no, absolutely not, they never hit–"

"I'm not just talking about physical abuse, (Y/N)," she interrupted. It was the first time of the entire questioning you had looked up as you met her gaze, your eyes saying more than your mouth ever could.

"It was just a few arguments,” you responded coldly.

“When we asked Margalida, your neighbour, about if there’s been any incidents like this, she said there has been. Yelling, screaming, and lots of it,” the woman told you. “How many arguments are you considering a few, (Y/N)?”

The table shook from the impact of your hand slamming it sharply as you shot to your feet. "If you consider a couple arguments to be verbal abuse, go ahead. My mum is hurt and angry, very angry about her husband leaving her, so yeah, she drinks and we argue about it!"

"Listen, please sit down. I understand that you and your siblings are troubled children but–"

"I hate being a– I hate that term, 'troubled kid', you know? We aren't troubled! If we were troubled, wouldn't we be dead? Wouldn't we be troubled by an inability to continue living in these conditions, these... ruins?"

Silence. You sat down once again, your head in your hands.

"Do you have another location you can stay at?" she asked you. You shook your head, the feeling of dread burying itself deeper in your gut.

"Unfortunately, we will have to place your siblings in foster care. The living conditions are unsafe and unstable for kids their age to be living in," the social worker finished.

You wanted to burst into tears. You wanted to sob and sob and sob, harder than you ever have, but the tears wouldn't summon.

"There is another option," she spoke slowly, making you immediately look up from the darkness your palms shrouded you in.

"...we contact your father and see if he wants to look after them."

It sounded just as bad as placing them into foster care. Now, you wanted to scream in her face and call her utterly stupid for assuming that a man who abandoned his kids would want to take care of them years later to keep them out of the foster system. Why on God's green earth would he want to reap the consequences of his infidelity?

"Are you hard of hearing?" you scoffed. "Yeah, so, I said earlier that he left us years ago for another woman, you know, to make another family. He didn't want us."

"He's the only other option at the moment. Unless your mother can be moved to a rehabilitation center in sufficient enough time, and you become their legal guardians, they will end up with foster families. Possibly not even the same one."

The news weighed on you like bricks. It was all so much, you couldn't think straight and contemplate possible outcomes and solutions. You put your elbows on your table and held your head in your hands once again, taking a deep breath.

"Can I at least find someone myself who's willing to foster? Someone I know?" you asked, your tone being nothing short of desperate.

She took a moment to respond, and it was probably the most nerve-wracking few seconds of your life, until the ultimatum was spoken.

"I suppose, yes. That is basically the whole principle of fostering, so I see no issue. Until then, they will be placed in a temporary home before we start looking for a permanent family. A pair of officers have gone to detain your mother and we'll review the information from this questioning to determine whether she should be charged or put straight into a rehabilitation program."

"Thank you," you almost cried, your body relaxing from the little bit of relief and reassurance you had just received. There was still a possibility that you could get your siblings back.

The problem standing in your way now was, you didn't know anyone willing to foster. You had no idea who you'd turn to, and it actually made you realise that you were pretty alone in this whole ordeal, and life in general. You really did have nobody but yourself, and clearly there came a time where that wouldn't be enough.

"Magda, Dani, Enzo, come on. We're going now," you said as the door of the interrogation room swung open. You beckoned at the kids, who stood up and ran to you, following you out of the door.

You didn't want to go home yet, just in case the officers were still there and you'd arrive to the horrible scene of your drunkard mother getting dragged of her own house by the authorities, so you drove to the training pitch. You were in search of one person in particular, and hoping to avoid another one.

Parking the car in the same spot you had parked in the same morning, you quickly got out of the car and ushered the kids onto the pitch to play for a little bit while you went into the gym.

As soon as you walked through the automatic glass doors, the person you were searching for was stretching on a yoga mat, her resistance bands discarded above her head.

She sat up, looking at you with a mixture of surprise, confusion and concern, probably achieved from your sorrowful expression.

"Vicky, I need your help. Now."

[lymtw]

The Handler and His Wife

"Honey?" Shiu calls, instantly snatching your attention from whatever you were looking at on your phone. His palms don't pause the soothing pressure they apply to your calves and all along your bare legs.

"Hm?" You hum in response, putting your phone down and giving him your full attention. You laugh when he just silently stares back at you, almost mindlessly. "What?" You say, indicating that you're listening.

He blinks out of his daze and smiles softly. "Anyone ever tell you that your existence is wet dream fuel?"

You roll your eyes, and give him that smile he loves so much. The one that tells him to shut up without you having to say it.

"Yeah, you. All. The. Time," you respond, sassily. "I know you only say it 'cause we're married," you argue.

"Now, now, baby. You know that's not true," he counters. Warmth riddles his tone, and the paired gentle squeeze to your knee has you softening up more. "You had me melting for you like a popsicle left out in the sun, way before we even got acquainted. I know you know that for a fact," he says, grinning almost victoriously when your lips curl.

"All those rounds of eye contact tag..." You sigh, wistfully. "It was hard not to reciprocate your glances when I liked playing with you so much."

"You played for too long and look where it got you," he teases, wearing the smuggest grin on his face.

"Married, to the man who sics me on people for fffat ssstacks." You nod with your eyes closed and a smile on your face, like you're blessed.

Shiu just shakes his head, with a chuckle. You seem to enjoy "taking care" of people way too much. "I'm gonna retire you, someday. I hope you know that, hon."

"Yeah, when i'm like eighty, 'cause you won't wanna see my wrinkly ass, anymore."

"No, not when you're like eighty," he says, incredulously. "More like in two or three years."

There's a slight crease between your brows. There's never been talk about this, so you're not sure what to make of it in the moment.

"Well, we haven't sat down and discussed this properly."

"What's there to discuss? You'll be living the same way you do now, minus the crime. What's the problem?"

"The problem lies in the way you're going about things here, Shiu. You're not asking me, you're telling me. This is the first time I hear about this and I feel like I don't even have a say in it. You're making decisions for my future without me."

The moment has gone bitter. You've retracted your legs from where they rested on his lap and Shiu realizes he's messing the whole thing up when your attention leaves him, too. It wasn't his intention to make you feel like your word means nothing. He just wanted to give you something to look forward to in the future, away from all the blood and gore that you've gotten way too comfortable with.

Sure, there must have been a better way to communicate his vision, but things didn't turn out that way, and now his little wife is upset, and that just can't be the case. Things don't work that way between you and Shiu.

"Doll, will you lend me your ears if you're gonna keep your pretty voice from me?" He requests, eyeing the involuntary, yet, precious pout on your face and the way your arms are crossed over your chest. You're still the prettiest thing he's ever seen, even when you're grumpy. Relief washes over him when after a few seconds, you uncross your arms and take a breath, ready to give him a chance to explain his thought process.

"Listening," you mutter.

"We have to do it the right way," he says, laying out his palm for you. He knows you're not beaming with joy anymore, but it's a must. You always do this during serious conversations. It's the only way to make sure that neither of you is walking away from the other before everything is laid out and explained. It's harder to do when one of you is upset with the other, but you get over it for each other's sake.

You put your hand on his and cup it. Your ring is as brilliant as the day he put it on your finger, something you both notice before giving each other the focus necessary for resolving this minor tension.

"I'm sorry, doll face," he starts. "I didn't mean to make it seem like I was making decisions about your life without you. That really was my mistake. Three years is still a long time for us to figure these things out together. If three years from now, you still want to be my pretty psycho killer, then we'll talk about it." He smiles softly at the way your lips curl and press together, like you're suppressing the laugh he loves so much.

"But I'm serious about retiring you at some point." His hand holds yours tighter, as if to say 'hold on, hear me out'. "I don't want to wait for something to happen to you, to finally say 'hey, now's a good time to call it quits'. That would make me useless as your man, don't you think?"

You take it all in and come to the conclusion that this is just another one of his ways of acting like a caring and protective husband. He almost never tells you he's scared or worried for you. He's seen you kick ass and he's almost one hundred percent sure that you can kick his ass, but even the best get knocked down sometimes, and he won't wait around forever to see it happen to you.

"I get what you mean, now. Sorry I caught on fire so fast," you say, with a sheepish smile. "I see your side of things, and I do want to retire at some point, but for some reason three years sounds like so little time. It sounds like tomorrow will come and those three years will be gone, and... that's so scary to me, Shiu. That's like ending something that's always been a part of me in the snap of a finger."

"I know, hon. It's not something that's meant to be figured out in one night. We just have to keep talking about this. Maybe we could do a check in every couple of months, see where your head's at with all of this. Okay?"

You nod. "Yeah, okay."

"Are we okay now? You know my poor heart can't handle you being mad at me for too long," he says, clutching his chest with his free hand to emphasize where it hurts.

"We're good," you assure, with a smile.

"Okay, now prove it," he challenges.

You crawl over to him and plop yourself down on his lap, resting your hands on his chest. He's quick to let his hands splay over your lower back, slowly rubbing the area. Your hands move down from his chest, eventually reaching the hem of his shirt and dipping beneath it.

"Careful, wife," he murmurs, when you start making little featherlight strokes on his abdomen.

"Hm?" You hum, innocently. "I'm just giving you the evidence you asked for. Is it too much? Are you gonna melt for me, Shiu?"

"You're teetering," he warns. He can feel the crotch area of his pants growing tighter as you run your soft fingertips along his stomach and the waistband of his boxers.

"You can keep me steady, baby," you respond, softly. You watch his eyes progressively get darker, clouding with the beginnings of something sinful. The more you tease him with your delicate touch and sweet, contrasting gaze, the closer he is to snapping and giving you what you're digging for.

"Be good to me, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice deep enough to make a chill run down your spine. "One of us always ends up crying. I don't think I have to say who it is out loud, do I?"

You pull your hands out of his clothes and wrap your arms around him, before pressing a couple chaste, apologetic kisses to his lips. "Sorry, handsome," you say, laughing. "I'll be nice."

"Mhm. You always say that, and then you give me the attitude of your life," he says, letting his hands roam beneath the back of your shirt.

"Maybe, I just want you to play with me," you murmur, your lips spreading into a saccharine smile when he laughs. Your sweetness is a trick you like to pull out before you strike, like a cat.

"I think I play with you enough for you to tell me your needs when you have them, don't I?"

"Well, that's no fun," you say, disagreeing. "You don't like when I feel you up and give you the will to be rough with me? I just know you wouldn't be able to do it otherwise, 'cause I'm your 'sweet babydoll', so I have to bring your inner spirit out somehow, right, hubs?"

"I'm revoking that pet name," he says under his breath. "Oh, you're trouble, honey, that's what you are, but alright, you want me to play with you, i'll play," he says calmly, before flipping both of you over on the couch, so that he's looking down at you with all the unspoken mischief in his eyes and you're looking up at him with stars riddled in yours.

[anantaru]

— drunk genshin boys

including heizou, alhaitham, scaramouche, kaveh, pantalone, childe, diluc, cyno x gn! reader

꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff & crack, idk what this is but very cute

drunk! heizou who gets tremendously clingy with you— he doesn‘t have anything but embracing and snuggling up to you in mind. from the beginning, before anything else, you have to help him get to bed, he can barely walk in a straight line and you wonder who he was sharing his drinks with— might be kazuha for all you know. "you‘re so good to me." he slurrs his words, eyes lowered and almost closed but keeping them open, heizou tries to because he can’t keep his eyes off you— even when drunk out of his mind, then the sweet man reaches his arms out for you, "come here come here." it’s a combination of a pitchy whine and a pout displayed before you and archons, how can someone be this adorable without even trying hard? you wonder but ultimately smile at your boyfriend, drawing a fuzzy blanket over his body before leaning into his chest.

drunk! alhaitham who fights with himself, more or less— he can hardly stand. you see, your boyfriend knows he‘s drunk and now he‘s forcing himself to sober up with nothing but pure, strong willpower and a good spirit at hand, but beware, he knows it‘s not possible but he tries to tell himself to sober up regardless, even when aware that that‘s not how it works in the general rule of booze. "i have almost conquered myself." he announces proudly while leaning against your shoulder, his soft hair ruffled and ticking your cheek. "yeah yeah." you playfully roll your eyes, placing your hand on top of his thigh while petting the clothed skin. it‘s when he places his palm on top of your hand to catch you in his embrace before you can notice the faint, soundly snoring sounds of your boyfriend succumbing to a deep slumber against you.

drunk! scaramouche who, much to your own surprise, tends to indicate a few kisses, cuddles and silently thanks you for taking care of him— it‘s especially surprising since this never happens when he‘s not under the influence of alcohol. truthfully, he didn‘t think he was even capable to get drunk and tried a bunch of different beverages around sumeru city. what he didn‘t know was that, alcohol can become a little tricky, especially when it hits you somewhat delayed. you were quick to notice his cheeks changing their color until his entire face was covered in red— the small pants from his parted lips and his larger pupils only proving your point. "nuisance." kuni curses, planting his arm over your shoulder as he makes you stop for a second, keeping your movements to a stand still. "kiss." he leans closer, no words following, ultimately failing to hit your lips and bumping in your nose instead— at this point you’re dying of laughter, you had even attempted to fight your giggles but how could that even be an option when he‘s like that? yet to the best part, you show him how it‘s done and properly melt your lips on his.

drunk! kaveh who— and such fact is known throughout all of sumeru, was a lightweight on the inside, but sometimes had the need to pretend to actually be able to hold his drinks in. you on the other hand knew your boyfriend and his tendencies to drink a little bit too much whenever he‘s meeting up with his friends for a round of tcg or anything really— most of the time it does consist of gossiping. considering this, you always await him late at night, knowing full on well that he‘s going to have a hard time getting out of his shoes or, frankly, find the way to his bedroom. "i‘m not- not drunk!" he proclaims with a pitched, half broken tone, raising his pointer finger in the air, "drunk not i not!" and stammers before dropping into his bed face first. you welcome him with a smile, "you sure aren‘t." and amusingly shake your head but not before placing a bucket next to the bed for— well, who knows what you both will face this entire night.

drunk! pantalone who loves to drink a few glasses of red wine— reveling in the massive flavor of different nuances the beverage had in store after a long day of working himself to frenzied tiredness. believe it or not but he knows the limits of his body quite well, yet even he can overindulge in it from time to time. in which case would he make himself overly noticable the moment he stumbles home. it‘s louder than usual and you wonder if he actually tripped over and fell carelessly or ran against the door. but the man finds you at last as he always did, you long since ready for bed before dropping right next to you, still fully clothed in a perfectly fitted garment and his glasses messily shoved up, "i may have had too many drinks tonight." he admits against his own volition, rubbing his head and the tiny red spot emerging on his forehead— he really did hit the door, "and you may need to help me out of my clothes."

drunk! childe who doesn‘t consider a party being a real event without him in it— surprinsingly was the eleventh harbinger good with keeping his booze in, it‘s rarely for him to get real, drop dead drunk, but when he does— oh boy, you can be sure he won‘t stop talking to you the entire night. "have i told you about that time i dropped a whale on an entire army?" brazen words after arrogant notions, ajax cuddles himself against your back to try to turn you towards him, after all, he thinks you weren‘t listening with your body being turned away like that. after a deep-rooted yawn, you pull yourself to the left to face him, "you did." and cradle his cheek, "you did at last three times this past hour."

drunk! diluc who, much to his own embarrassment, needs to be taken care of. the man loathes alcohol to his very core, but even he needs to occasionally drink a couple glasses with important partners who he had been collaborating and working with. "i can‘t feel my legs." he almost whines at the loss of his senses, numb and tired as you repeatedly dapped a cold washcloth on his forehead while he was continuously pinching his biceps, "that‘s your arm baby." your expression softened slightly as you carried on to clean him up. as it was time to turn in for the night, you felt diluc‘s intense, warm presence closer than on any other day before, "please don‘t leave." his words find your ears with such ease, like a piece of his own soul, a bright, hopeful voice, full of hope but webbed in bristling fear, "i won‘t."

drunk! cyno who— and this really doesn‘t surprise you at this point in time, pompously shows off all his aquired and bundled up jokes, you had, in the beginning of your relationship, thought that what if he would genuinely turn out to be legitimately hilarious when in such wobbly state. "a tighnari and cyno walk into a bar." he pulls his mask off and places it on a drawer that, and don‘t ever tell him that, but there isn‘t a drawer there, he‘s just imagining things, "knock knock, *hiccup* who‘s there?" cyno quickly stops himself as you pick up the mask and put it on a real drawer, sliding into the warm bedsheets beside him afterwards, "wait, that‘s not how the joke goes." the man wrinkles his nose in thought, blinking rapidly while looking at you through puppy eyes, as if you had an actual idea on what he‘s talking about.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[scarlet-star-witch]

The moon and his sun (Part V)

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: 9.8 K

Warnings: Angst galore, violence, miscarriage

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3 Part 4 ... Part 6 Part 7

~~

A thump at her door roused her from her sleep. She blinked tiredly, propping herself up on her elbow as she looked around the room, seeing no indication of her husband’s presence. It wasn’t unusual that he would leave as the sun rose, but she knew today was not one of his training days. 

With a groan, she stood from the bed, wiping the sleep from her eyes as she stepped towards the door. She grasped the handle and frowned as she felt resistance, unable to turn to it. 

She tried again, jiggling the handle, her movements becoming more desperate as she realized it wouldn’t budge. She banged her fist against the door, calling out to her husband, but it was no use. 

The door didn’t open. 

With a racing heart, she rushed to the hidden passage across the room, her shaking hands pushing at the wall with all her might. A hushed curse fell from her lips as it refused to give way. Something was blocking it. 

Her mind was racing frantically, no thoughts making sense as to why she was locked in her room or where her husband was. 

Raised voices from outside caught her attention and she frantically looked around the room for the dagger her husband kept, suddenly fearing that she’d need to defend herself from whatever enemy had trapped her in her chambers. 

The door abruptly slammed open, her husband stepping inside with a heated expression on his face. He gave one last scowl to the guards outside before closing the door behind him, turning to face her with a guilty look.

“What’s going on? Why was the door locked?”

“Are you alright?” He asked, stepping towards her quickly, his hands cradling her face gently, his eye greedily taking her in, noting her distress. 

“I’m fine, but I have no idea what in the seven hells is going on.” She replied heatedly, her frustration clear. 

Aemond had been furious when he learned his wife had been locked inside their chambers at the orders of his mother. He knew his mother wasn’t overly fond of his wife, but he never thought she would stoop so low. 

His face darkened as he thought over the past few minutes, the news that had been shared, the duty that now fell onto his shoulders. 

“What happened?” She asked worriedly, his expression making her wary. 

“My father is dead.” 

Her lips parted in surprise, a heavy weight suddenly settling over her, as it soon became harder to breathe. Her arms winded around him, hugging him tightly without a second thought. She gripped onto him as if afraid he would run.

He didn’t respond to her embrace, his arms laying limply at his side, his face devoid of all emotion, his ire for his father seeming to grow even more bitter in the wake of his death. 

“Aemond… I - are you alright?” She pulled away from the embrace to look at him, her frown growing at the sight of his passive expression.

“Of course I am.” He said tersely, causing her to flinch at his abrupt tone. “I have to find Aegon.”

His words caused fear to strike her, her eyes widening, the tension growing thick. 

“It’s happening isn’t it.” She spoke monotonously, no question in her tone, for she already knew.

“It is.” He spoke quietly, reaching for her hand. “It shouldn’t be him, but it is what my father wanted.”

Her face twisted in disbelief, the expression enough to have the brief moment of softness removed from his expression, his gaze turning hard once more, resentment building within him. 

“What? You would rather have my whore of a half-sister sit the throne and my bastard nephew to follow?”

She sighed, reaching for his hand again, but he pulled away before she could reach him. His blinding hatred for his nephews and his half-sister hardening him against the hurt that crossed her face, a moment that would have melted him and brought her into his arms only further incenting his rage.

“You would bow to the ones that tormented me my entire childhood, that took my fucking eye, that boast when they have no right-”

“Stop!” She yelled, stopping his rant, her eyes alight with an anger that was unfamiliar to him. “You know I could not care less who sits on the damned throne, but you know as well as I do who certainly does not deserve it.”

Aemond’s anger shifted, giving way to his own apprehension. The thought of the power Aegon would soon wield was not appealing to say the least. His shoulders sagged, the fight in him petering out weakly. He reached out, his hand taking hers, his silent apology for his outburst.

“It is what we must do.” He spoke, the words sounding as if he were reading from a script and not how he truly felt.

She sighed, her arms coming to wrap around herself, as if she felt she already needed to protect herself against what Aegon’s reign would ensue. Aemond sighed, fighting his temper at the sight of her complicated reaction. 

The mere thought that his own wife supported Rhaenyra’s claim was enough to boil his blood and he grit his teeth, trying to remain calm in the face of her worry. 

“You know those bastards don’t deserve the throne.”

“Would you rather a bastard or a rapist?”

All anger was gone swiftly, his face falling as a pit grew in his stomach. His gaze softened, determination sparking within him and he reached out, grasping her shoulders gently. 

“He would never touch you. You know I will protect you.”

“Even from war?”

He seemed less sure of that, his gaze floundering before dropping to the floor. He pulled away from her touch, his unease swirling with thoughts of his uncertainty, inciting his anger and he swiftly turned on his heel. 

“I will be back soon.”

With that, he was out the door, leaving her alone in their chambers. She let out a shaking breath, her mind twisting with thoughts of what was to come, dread bubbling within her, forcing her to wonder if it was only the pregnancy that was causing her nausea. 

The next hour was a whirlwind. Alicent had sent a gaggle of maids to style her, ignoring her winces as they laced her into a tight, corseted gown, as they pulled and pinned her hair to the appropriate style for her station. 

She was corralled through the Keep and it was only until she spotted Helaena that she felt she was able to relax the slightest amount, though her frown deepened as she noticed the despondent expression on Helaena’s face. She linked her arm through her good sister’s, eyeing her carefully, noting how her chest heaved with every nervous intake of air. 

“Are you alright?”

“I will be Queen.” She spoke monotonously, as if she couldn’t believe the turn of events, that she would soon hold a powerful title, something she had never longed for or dreamed of. 

She squeezed Helaena affectionately, a weak smile painting her features. 

“You will be a wonderful Queen.”

They were soon herded into a carriage to take them to the Dragon Pit for the coronation. She sat faithfully by Helaena’s side, her hand clutching hers tightly, her chest aching for the trembling she felt from her friend. 

She leaned her head back, blowing out a long breath, the unease swirling within her leaving her seconds away from demanding they stop so she could empty her stomach. She placed a protective hand over her stomach, wishing she could feel a flutter, any sign of life to comfort her in this bleak moment. 

Her eyes wandered before landing on Alicent sat at the other side of the carriage. She flinched, her eyes quickly casting down as she noticed the cold glare directed at her from her good mother. 

She knew how Alicent felt about her, she had made it perfectly clear even before she married her son. She had always put on a brave face and never let her stares of disapproval or back handed comments get under her skin, but now, on this day when their lives were to change, when a war would soon unfold because of their actions, a measly scowl seemed to strike her deeper than ever before. 

She kept her eyes locked onto her feet for the rest of the ride which was thankfully short. They were guided inside and she immediately found her husband. Aemond was already standing at the dais with his grandsire and Ser Criston, his face hardened like the visage of a statue. 

He held his hand out to her as she approached, his eyes posing a silent question. As his gaze drifted to her stomach, she knew he was pondering about the babe more than he was her own state of mind and she sighed, giving him a slight nod. Aemond let his hand drop from hers, his face shifting back into a mask of indifference as the group of them took their places as the dutiful royal family and the confused crowds of citizens were pushed into the grand hall like cattle. 

“Best behavior everyone.” Alicent whispered to them, her eyes lingering on the Island girl for a moment longer than the rest, her gaze darkening slightly in warning. 

She had to hold back a scoff. To think she was the one to be under warning for her actions on this day. As if she were the one starting a war. 

Her nausea grew as the soldiers lined up, their swords held high in respect for a man who didn’t deserve it as he marched his way forward, his face dark and dreary. She didn’t know what was worse, giving Aegon the crown or forcing it upon his head when he didn’t even want it. Her eyes shifted to her husband at her side, imagining it was him, walking up the steps to receive the great honor. 

He would be better than Aegon. He would be better than Rhaenyra. 

Her eyes fell back to the crowd, a shiver running down her spine as she forced the thoughts from her head. 

The energy in the room shifted as the crown was placed on Aegon’s head. The murmurs of confusion, the shock at the news of the King’s death was replaced by the excitement of the crowd, of the idea of a new, male, ruler. 

Aegon turned to his mother who bowed dutifully, her face not a mask of relief as one would expect someone whose years of plotting had finally been rewarded, but that of wavering submission, as if the reality of her actions, the consequences that would soon unfold were finally catching up to her. 

Otto bowed to his grandson, a smarmy smile of victory on his face. 

Aegon’s eyes fell down the line, Helaena automatically bowing to her husband, her eyes slightly vacant, as if she were forcing her mind to be anywhere but the present. 

Aemond nodded stiffly, his own stomach twisting slightly as he thought of what his brother would be capable of now that there was no one to hold him back any longer. 

Aegon’s gaze shifted, a sickly satisfied grin growing as he met her hardened stare. 

She hesitated for a few seconds, her eyes looking at the man she despised, the man who now held unlimited power. She stiffened as his gaze darkened, making note of her hesitation, and she breathed deeply, bowing her head weakly, no further than she needed to.

She didn’t need him gaining any grandeur perceptions about the respect she had for him, of which there was none. 

A hand slithered into hers and her breath hitched, her eyes subtly finding her husband at her side. He remained looking forward, surveying the crowd, but his hand squeezed hers, conveying his relief, his thanks that she had put her feelings for his brother aside to not cause any conflict. 

She let out a long breath, the noise of the crowd deafening as they applauded their new King. She wondered if any of them knew even a sliver of his true nature, if they would be cheering as they were if they had seen the many maids flee from his chambers with tears in their eyes and blood running down their thighs. 

Her dark thoughts were interrupted as the floor before them crumbled, the cheers suddenly turning to screams of terror. 

Before her eyes could even widen in shock, she was pushed back. Her breath was stolen from her as arms encircled her tightly, Aemond’s body wrapped around hers, shielding her and their unborn child from the debris that flew. His hand on the back of her head held her to his chest, his heart racing beneath her ear. 

Her heart raced in a way it never had before, the rapid rhythm startling her. She stood frozen, incapacitated by shock as Aemond pulled away, his hands latching onto hers, his gaze frantically searching every inch of her, ensuring there was no harm done. 

He placed his hand on her stomach, his brows furrowed, as if in pain, as if the mere thought of a threat against their growing child was enough to bring him to his knees. 

“Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, her eyes wide with fear, placing a hand over her chest that heaved for breath. 

He eyed her carefully, his hands holding her tightly. It wasn’t until he saw her take in a deep breath that he let himself detach from her. His expression soon turned dark, his hand moving to the sword at his hip to meet the enemy that dared threaten his family.  His eye widened as the dust cleared, the dragon before them taking a mighty step towards them. His stiff body stood protectively in front of her, his gaze locked onto the beast, his arm keeping his wife behind him. 

“Aemond-”

“It’s alright.” He soothed her, though it was anything but convincing with how tense his voice sounded. 

She eyed the dragon from over her husband’s shoulder and quickly reached out, grabbing onto Helaena’s sleeve and pulling her back into her side, wrapping her arm around her, though her friend didn’t look scared. She looked at the dragon before them with wonder, a small smile playing on her lips. 

She briefly wondered if the thought of being burned alive was more enticing to her than becoming Queen to her villainous husband of a King. 

The bone rattling roar directed at them shook the walls of the Pit. Aemond’s grip tightened on her arm, as if his final act of comfort, his only way to say goodbye to her. 

Her forehead rested on his strong back, her breath leaving her in quivering pants, bracing herself for the fire that would end them all. 

But it never came. 

With one last final roar, Meleys and her fierce rider, the Princess Rhaenys, gave a final look of resolve to the family before her and pulled on the reins of her dragon, turning away from them. With a spread of her wings, Meleys glided out of the building, Rhaenys finally free from the clutches of Alicent and Otto. 

The cries of the wounded and grieving were all that were left. 

Time seemed to speed, she was barely able to comprehend what had happened before they were all forced out of the Pit. Aemond’s arm around her waist, practically dragging her with him, was the only thing keeping her moving forward. 

Her eyes fluttered around the room, her throat growing tight at the sight of the bodies that littered the ground, crowds of people fallen to their knees with screams and cries for their dead loved ones, innocent people caught in the crossfire of a conflict that had nothing to do with them.

Her vision blurred as tears filled her eyes, the heart wrenching cries making her flinch. Aemond held her tighter in response, his pace quickening in desperation to get her away from the blood and death that lingered in their wake. 

They were deadly quiet in the carriage that brought them back to the Red Keep. 

No one spoke a word, the only sound were the wheels that jerked against the uneven stones beneath them, though it would never be enough to take away the sound of grief she had just heard that continued to ring her ears in a torturous loop. 

She was stiff as stone as they came to a stop, Aemond helping his sister out of the carriage before holding his hand out to her. Their eyes met briefly, the worry in his gaze turning her stomach, reminding her that this was real, that their brief brink with death was only the beginning.

She swallowed against the lump in her throat and grasped his hand, his hold much tighter than hers, which remained even after she found her footing.

Aemond’s arm lay sturdy around her waist as they stepped back into the Red Keep. She kept her head down as they walked, her mind a mess of worry, her hands still trembling, her adrenaline pumping through her veins in a mix of fearful derision. 

Her husband’s steps faltered slightly and she raised her head, her eyes falling onto the sight before them before Aemond could shield her. She gasped, a hand moving to cover her mouth as she stared in horror at the swinging bodies below the gate. 

Aemond’s grip on her tightened and he walked swiftly, guiding her quickly through the doors and away from the gruesome sight. 

Her gaze remained locked onto the lifeless bodies. The traitors that supported Rhaenyra’s claim. Her head turned, unable to look away from the stomach twisting sight. 

“Don’t look.” Aemond said softly, though the command did little to sway her. 

She couldn’t tear herself away from the sight, from the reminder of what defying Aegon would lead her to.

Tears welled in her eyes again, a pit of dread settling within her like lead. She instinctively placed a hand over her belly, mourning the world their child would be brought into.

~~

The family sat together at dinner that night, the room painfully silent as everyone but Otto and Aegon picked at their food inattentively. 

Only a few bites were needed before she started to feel sick again. She leaned back in her chair, placing her fork down with more force than was necessary. Aemond looked over at her, smiling sadly as he placed his hand over her stomach. 

She grit her teeth as a flash of anger coursed through her. It wasn’t the babe she was growing making her feel sick. The mangled bodies she’d seen under the debris of the dragon pit, the bodies of noble Lords hanging lingered in her mind, seemingly putting her off from ever eating again.

She didn’t know how he could be so unaffected by it all. 

“When can we expect your father’s return?” Otto’s commanding voice sounded from across the table. 

She lifted her gaze, despising the fact that his intense scrutiny was staring right back at her.

“I’m not sure. He didn’t specify his return before he left.” 

“Hopefully he will not be gone for too much longer. We cannot be without a Master of coin, especially with what is sure to come. I’m sure he will not want his daughter alone during a war.” 

The thinly veiled threat in Otto’s words didn’t go unnoticed and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Her gaze briefly shifted to Aemond who looked just as unnerved by the turn of the conversation. Aemond’s look of apprehension was enough to have her own nerves alight with fear.

To think he considered her alone, even with her husband by her side, told her everything about how he viewed her marriage, where he believed his grandson’s loyalties lay.

The thought of those hanging bodies came back to her in an instant and she suddenly felt too sick to hold his gaze. 

Her father wouldn’t bend to the whims of Otto Hightower. If he returned, it would only be a matter of time before he was forced to the noose. 

The thought made her already frayed nerves twist even further, as if a fist was clenching tighter around her heart. 

Dinner passed as tensely as it began, with little words spared amongst the family. 

Even Aemond remained quiet as they found themselves back in their chambers. He had taken his usual spot on the couch by the hearth, his expression indecipherable. She sat at his side, her gaze drifting to him occasionally, unease growing within her the longer she was unable to make out what he was feeling. 

“I should write to my father.” She finally broke the tense silence between them. “He should know about Viserys.”

“You should write to your father.” Aemond affirmed stiffly, his eyes locked onto the fire. “Tell him not to come back.”

Her head snapped up, her widened eyes looking to her husband in disbelief, fear overtaking every ounce of her senses. 

“He will not fight for Rhaenyra’s cause.” 

“No, he will not fight for any cause.” Aemond knew of Ixtal’s history and his good father was too great a man to change the laws of his land for a war of succession that had nothing to do with him. “That will be enough for my Grandsire.”

Her breath caught in her throat, tears brimming in her eyes at the insinuation. Despite the terror that flowed through her veins, loneliness crept forward. Without her father, she scarcely had anyone in her corner. 

Aemond and Helaena were the only ones she had and she hardly felt as though they were in any state to provide comfort as they approached the brink of a family war. 

“Am I in danger here?” She choked out. 

The indifferent air around Aemond shattered in an instant. He was on his feet, moving towards her in a second. He kneeled before her, taking her hands in his, his face softer than she had seen it all day. 

“I would never let anyone hurt you.”

His words, which should have been comforting, only made more tears fall from her eyes. 

As Aemond hugged her tightly, whispering assurances, she couldn’t help but feel the pit of dread in her stomach grow, hating herself for not believing his words. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Aemond or his capabilities to protect her, but she knew with the beginning of a war, there would be much out of his control. 

As her husband held her, she wondered if she, just a mere lady that by no means matched the power of the family she married into, were to be a casualty in the war of dragons.

She wondered when the next bloody domino would fall.

~~

The days passed as if everyone was holding their breath. Rhaenyra had refused Alicent’s bridge of friendship. The Blacks were not backing down. 

War was upon them. 

Their first step was to gain allies. Aemond was commanded to fly to Storm’s End to barter with Borros Baratheon to join the fight for Aegon’s cause. 

His departure left her feeling exposed, like a lonely sheep out in the herd of dragons that were frothing at the mouth. She spent most of the day secluded in their chambers, anxiously awaiting his return.

She was curled up on the sofa in front of the fire, reading her favorite book from the library, which was unsurprisingly one of the books Aemond had read to her in her first week at King’s Landing, signaling the beginning of their budding friendship. 

The rain pounded against the window, her attention caught between the words on the page and the raging storm outside. She unintentionally shivered and rubbed the small swell of her belly, thinking of her husband bearing the wicked weather outside, her worry growing tenfold once again.

It was bad enough to think of her husband out there, gaining allies for a war that could destroy them all, it was even worse to think of her husband’s grandfather who desperately wanted her husband to wed for allyship. 

Even after their marriage it was as if she didn’t exist to the cunning man. 

She continued to read for a few more minutes, the more she yawned, the closer she became to retiring for the night. 

Her peace was disrupted as her chamber doors swung open forcefully, startling her. She dropped her book and abruptly turned in her spot, fearful until she saw her husband stride into the room. 

She let out a long breath of relief, standing to her feet to greet him, an involuntary smile growing on her face at his safe return. 

The second her gaze met his and she noticed the drenched hair that stuck to his face did her worry begin to grow. But it was the moment she looked into his eye and saw the grief, the regret, the pure terror that radiated from him did her heart drop to her stomach.

“Aemond?” She called out quietly. 

“I- I didn’t… it was an accident. I wasn’t-” His voice was quiet, sounding more fragile than she thought she had ever heard him. 

She took a tentative step forwards and, realizing he wasn’t flinching away from her approach, continued until she was standing before him, her hands reaching up to cradle his jaw, wincing slightly as she felt his cold skin against her warm palms. 

“What happened?” 

Her heart was racing, expecting the worst, ready to hear the horrible scenario she’d been anticipating, how his grandfather had manipulated the situation to his benefit, that she’d lose him to a Baratheon girl. 

“I didn’t mean to.” He whispered, his gaze bowing to the floor, refusing to meet her eyes. 

“Aemond, what happened?” She asked, her voice holding more force, realizing he was trapped in a daze, that she wouldn’t get a straight answer unless she pushed. 

“Lucerys was there.”

Her breath caught in her throat, her fears suddenly shifting, jumping to no better conclusions. 

“I just wanted to scare him.” 

The whispered confession was enough to stop her heart. Her wide eyes watched her husband warily. She knew what he was insinuating but she didn’t want to believe it. 

“Aemond…”

“I didn’t mean to hurt him. Vhagar wouldn’t listen.” 

A shaking breath escaped her. As Aemond’s head lowered to rest on her shoulders her mind didn’t even think as she wrapped her arms around his dripping and shaking form, bringing him in close, holding him tightly, not caring as her nightgown became soaked with the rain that clung to him. 

She could feel his racing heart thundering against her own chest as she hugged him, his fear causing her own to rise to the surface. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, the only coherent thought he was able to grab in his turmoil. No matter what satisfaction or revenge he felt he was able to gain from Vhagar’s brutal attack, he knew what it meant, what would transpire because of his rash chase. 

A war had started, his family was in danger. 

His wife was in danger. Their child that grew within her was in danger.

No amount of revenge would make up for that. 

He would never admit it outloud, though he was sure his wife knew him well enough to tell. For the first time he could remember in years, he was scared. 

That night, as his wife lay sleeping beside him, he lay wide awake, his heart continuing its racing rhythm. His hand lay on her stomach, the smallest growing bump revealing the sign of life that lay inside. 

He let out a shaking breath, his fingers gently caressing the skin that protected their child. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, the guilt overwhelming him. His child would be born into war, their safety threatened before they could even draw breath and it was because of him.

~~

Rhaenyra wiped her tears, her blank stare remaining on the flames of the hearth as her grief tore her heart inside out. 

“We have to act soon.” 

Daemon’s voice cut through her haze and she looked over at him with a deep frown.

“What do you mean?”

“You can’t let those Green cunts think they’ve gotten away with this. We need retribution.”

He skirted around what he truly wanted to say. He knew Rhaenyra would never agree to a slaughter but he hoped her grief would be enough to force her hand, to finally take a stand in the war. 

“What do you propose we do?”

“We cannot risk going after Aemond. He rides the biggest dragon, he knows the blade well, he could fight off anyone we send to him.”

“So he is untouchable.”

“No.” Daemon countered quickly. “We will strike him in a different manner.”

Rhaenyra looked at her husband incredulously, confused as to what he was planning.

“Who does that one-eyed cunt love more than anything?”

Daemon’s words made her eyes widen as she sat up straighter, her body becoming stiff with dread.

“No.”

“Rhaeny-”

“No, not her.”

“His son is not born yet, there is no other way to get revenge for what he has done.”

“She has been nothing but kind to me and my family. She and her innocent babe don’t deserve to be slaughtered.”

“She married the cunt! She’s knee deep in the pit of vipers, she is not innocent. You think she’ll fight for your cause? You think she’ll be loyal to you over her own husband?” Daemon yelled, getting to his feet angrily. 

“It’s war, Rhaenyra. People fall at the hands of its brutality every day. You’ve already lost your son, what more do they need to take from you before you take a stand? Before you show them the dragon you are?”

Rhaenyra wrung her hands anxiously, thoughts of her fallen son causing tears to fall steadily down her cheeks, her grief overtaking the guilt she felt for the Ixtal girl.

“Make sure it is quick. That she does not suffer.”

~~

Aemond could tell she was more reserved than she had ever been. The fallout of Lucerys’ death had both of them fearful. He couldn’t deny the feelings of regret he hid below the surface. He wouldn’t be one to mourn the one who carved his eye out, but the apprehension he faced from the court cut him deeply, the knowledge of what he was now, turned his stomach.

A kinslayer.

He was always either passed over or looked upon hesitantly by the Lords and Ladies of the court, his cold demeanor was enough to have people side stepping out of his way, not to mention the missing eye that still, even years later, made Ladies cower in fear, disgusted by the sight of him.

After news of Storm’s End reached the court, his reputation became that of a ruthless killer. Maids actively scurried away from him, averting their fearful gazes in fear of poking the proverbial dragon, of incurring his seemingly bloodthirsty temper. 

The war about to unfold before them paled in comparison to the war raging within him. 

He couldn’t very well tell his brother their first move in this war had been a mistake, that he felt turmoil over his actions his own King was praising. He had to put on a front of a stone-cold warrior, an unrelenting soldier that stared into the face of death with no fear. 

He couldn’t tell his family, his brother, his grandfather, how wrong he felt it was. They praised his actions and he had to ignore the way he wanted to writhe in discomfort under their accolades, he had to ignore the horror on his mother’s face. 

He had to ignore the fear he had instilled in his wife, a feat that always left him feeling sick with guilt. 

They knew there would be retribution, but Aegon was refusing to accept the gravity of his actions. He wanted to bask in their triumph, however little it may be, despite the implications it had for their future. 

His stomach turned as he told his wife of the feast to be held that night, their allies gathering to celebrate and toast to the death of Lucerys Velaryon. 

She had silently turned from him, beginning to ready herself, preparing to be the dutiful wife at his side and hide how disgusted she was to play a part in this senseless conflict. 

He hated himself for putting her in this position. 

He knew she saw how much he hid his true feelings, how he had to force himself to take the praise for playing the first hand, no matter how much he regretted knocking the first chess piece down that would spark violence across the realm. 

She saw right through him and he knew it ate away at her to see him take on this role to sate his family, people who had always taken him for granted, who now saw him as nothing more than a soldier and a dragon rider. 

She could not hide her distaste for the celebration around her. She did not hold much love for Lucerys Velaryon, especially not after how he had maimed her husband, but to celebrate his death with such vigor sickened her to her stomach. 

He was only a child and it left guilt to fester within her at her participation in such an event. She looked to Aegon who was holding court effortlessly with a crowd of drunken Lords, the sight of his wide smile only deepening her scowl.

He came from a family of dragons, rode his own, yet here he was, celebrating the death of such a magnificent creature. 

She stared down at the plate of food in front of her, knowing it was more than her ever-changing pregnancy cravings that left her without desire to touch an ounce of it. 

“Darling?” The voice at her side broke her out of her stupor and she turned her attention to her husband who was eyeing her worriedly. “Are you alright?”

“I don’t have much of an appetite.” She explained simply, though she knew Aemond knew her better and would see through such a flimsy excuse. She knew he didn’t believe her as his gaze lingered thoughtfully. 

“Love, you should-”

Raucous jeers cut off his concerns, the crowd swarming a jeering Aegon becoming louder and more riotous as more Lords joined in. 

She watched, barely able to hide her disgust as they cheered for the death of a child, for the beginning of a war that would surely kill thousands. She caught the cheered cries of ‘the bastard is dead’ and knew she would soon reach her breaking point.

She thought of Rhaenyra. She wasn’t overly fond of her as she used to be as a child, but the thought of the torment she was enduring with the loss of her child made her insides twist.  

She pushed her chair out, the offending sound of the legs on the floor below her abruptly catching Aemond’s attention, who immediately stood as she did, his hand finding the small of her back. 

“Are you alright? Are you feeling unwell?” He asked worriedly, the concern she saw in his eye enough to have the lump that was already growing in her throat threaten to steal her breath. 

Her sorrowful eyes met Aemond’s, his breath catching in his throat when he saw the discomfort in her gaze. 

“I can’t be here.” She breathed out and quickly removed herself from his hold, quick enough to avoid the gentle hand that moved to caress her barely there bump as he did every time she parted from his side. Her gait was quick as she weaved through the crowds, anxious to leave the hall as quickly as she could.

He watched her leave, the guilt bubbling within him yet again. He had only taken one step before his grandsire’s authoritative voice sounded, the harsh call of his name all the warning Aemond needed. 

He grit his teeth, anguish overtaking him as he realized he couldn’t leave. 

He was left to stare defeatedly at the doors, long after she had walked through them, until he finally sank into his chair, his gaze lowered to his fingers that traced the intricate designs on the goblet of wine in front of him. 

He did this. 

He started the war that would put his entire family in danger. His actions were what caused his wife to look at him with apprehension, what caused the dreaded looks of fear his way, what caused this entire celebration he knew revolted her. 

He was the reason she had to leave. No one but him caused this. 

Back in their chamber, she sat at her vanity, brushing her hair, her stomach twisting and turning. She had dismissed her maid for the night, though she knew with the worried look that crossed the young girl’s face it wouldn’t be long until she was checked on again. 

She sighed, the sick feeling lingering as she rose to her feet, the ache in her body leaving her desperate for her bed. 

She just hoped she was asleep before Aemond returned. She couldn’t stand to see him look so upset. 

A sound from across the room caught her attention and she turned on her heel slowly, exhaustion seeping through her as she pictured her husband following after her, dreading a fight breaking out, but she stilled, fear freezing the blood in her veins as she locked eyes with an unfamiliar man on the other side of her chambers. 

He smiled, a wicked sight that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand, the bloodthirsty hatred in his eyes causing dread to settle within her. It all suddenly clicked into place, who this man was, who sent him, why he was there. 

She knew. 

Her death was to be one of revenge.

As her breath steadily began to quicken, her eyes darted towards the closed door, but before she could make an attempt to run, he was charging forward. 

His rough hand grabbed a fistful of her hair, dragging her back into his sturdy form. The breath was knocked out of her as his arms wrapped around her tightly, trapping her arms at her sides. 

“Pretty Princess. You know better than to run.” The man crooned in ear, making her wince and flinch away from the brush of his lips against her skin. 

Her face creased in pain, a soft whimper leaving her as he tightened his grip around her and she suddenly feared her ribs would soon crack under his force. 

“Daemon said to be quick, to spare you the pain, but he didn’t tell me how pretty you’d be.” He taunted. “I think I’ll take my time with you.”

Pure terror had taken over every one of her senses, she thought of the life growing inside of her and it quickly brought tears to her eyes at the dreadful thought that her poor babe was doomed, never to reach the waiting arms of his parents who already loved him deeply. 

She squirmed against the man’s grip, struggling against his arms. He growled at her stubbornness and pushed her away from him, turning her to deliver a sturdy slap to her cheek. She lost her footing at the force of his blow, landing heavily on her front on the hard floor. 

Her eyes widened, her arms shaking as she pushed herself up, her eyes locked onto the barely there bump where her child grew. Her lip trembled, her happy future with Aemond and their child flashing before her eyes as it crumbled before her in real time. 

The man was on her quick and she screamed as she viciously kicked and clawed at him. A hearty kick to his groin was enough to subdue him long enough to allow her to get back to her feet. She moved as quickly as she could in her stunned state, managing to pull the heavy door open. 

The man was at her back just as quickly, his heavy hand slamming the door closed and seizing her frame that now seemed smaller than she could have ever conceived under his large hands. He tossed her to the side, a stunted cough forced out of her as she collided with the frame of the bed. 

Outside the room, her maid rushed forward, having heard the loud slam of the door from down the hall. Her eyes widened as she heard a crash followed by a cry of pain. She let out a shuddering breath, tears brimming in her eyes as she forced her feet to move, beginning to sprint down the hall to find help.

Another blow to her face disoriented her, the pain unlike anything she had ever felt before. She continued to struggle, realizing her death was imminent, but content to leave this world having made it entirely inconvenient for her assailant. 

It was the least she could do for the babe inside her she couldn’t save. 

The man threw her to the ground, his hate filled eyes taking her in with a greedy bloodlust she had never seen before. He gave a swift kick to her stomach, her cries fueling his demented thrill as he gave a few more for his own amusement. He kneeled before her, pulling a dagger from his belt. Her eyes widened and in one last ditch effort, thrust her hand out just as he brought the blade down.  

She screamed as the blade tore through the palm of her hand. Her entire body shook with the pain that radiated from her hand, the blood pouring out of the gruesome wound, staining the nightgown she wore. 

With her other hand, she scratched at the man’s face, her nails finding his eyes, gouging blindly, trying to disarm him anyway she could. He growled in pain, pushing more weight down, the blade still stuck in her hand forcing its way deeper, causing her to cry out, her eyes locked onto the weapon with terror as it loomed closer and closer to her.

He suddenly yanked the dagger back, another scream tearing out of her throat as the blade tore more of her skin. He swung down again and her hands gripped at his arm, stopping the blade just inches before it stuck true.

Across the Keep, the spindly maid raced into the feast, shoving her way through the crowds to get to the head table. 

Her disheveled appearance quickly caught the royals’ attention, their brows raising in indignation as she panted for breath, the picture of unseemly behavior. 

Alicent was seconds away from scolding her until the mousy girl opened her mouth.

“My Prince.. It’s… your wife… she’s-” The maid panted for breath, but her measly few words were enough for Aemond to understand and make his blood run cold. 

His eye widened with fear before darkening in realization. He stood so quickly his chair fell to the ground and the rest of his family watched, astonished, barely able to comprehend what was happening, before he was sprinting out of the room. His stomach lurched, feeling as though he was going to be sick as he ran out of the hall. 

He could hear his heart beat in his ears as he ran, the fear gripping his heart so tightly he thought it would kill him, that he would drop dead any second out of pure terror for what waited for him. 

In their shared chambers, her strength was fading, the wound in her hand throbbed, the blood that soaked her arm making her grip slick, her arms shaking as she held onto the man’s wrist, the only thing stopping him from bringing his dagger down into her heart. 

Her grip wavered, the dagger inching closer and closer as she began to lose her will to fight, her body aching, screaming at her to just give in and end the torment. 

Her chest was heaving, soft sobs leaving her lips as she began to make peace with her fate. 

As quickly as her mind had succumbed, resigned to her death, the pressure against her suddenly fell slack. 

The feeling of warmth spraying across her face made her flinch. She watched, her eyes wide and filled with terror, as the man atop her grunted in pain. His hate filled expression falling slack, blood pooling out of his mouth. 

A shuddering breath escaped her, the sight of the tip of the sword protruding from his chest causing a sob to break out of her chest. 

It was over. 

The man fell and before she knew it, strong hands were grabbing her, pulling her out from under the man who was now dead at her feet. 

She screamed in fright as she was scooped up into strong arms and she began to struggle, feebly pushing at the person holding her. 

“Shh, it’s me, my love. It’s Aemond.” His frantic voice met her ears. “It’s me. I have you, you’re safe now.” 

Tears streamed down her cheeks steadily, her breathing quick and heavy as she sobbed, her exhausted body giving up its fight as she slumped against her husband. 

Aemond let out shaking breaths, his trembling hands holding her tightly, his heart racing wildly. The terror he had felt the moment he stormed into their chambers and saw her under that man, the bloody dagger in his hands so close to her heart was enough to stop his own. 

He cradled his wife closely, pressing kisses to her hair as he whispered that she was safe over and over, though it did nothing to soothe her of the violent trembling that had overtaken her body. 

He looked down, his face twisting in agony at the sight of the brutal gash in her hand, of the blood that steadily flowed down the length of her arm, feeling sick at the thought of what that bastard had done to her. The sight of her busted lip ignited his anger all over again and he wanted nothing more than to kill that wretch a thousand times over for the hurt he caused his beloved. 

She suddenly groaned in pain, her body stiffening against him. He looked over her worriedly as she began to writhe in his arms, her pained whimpers growing louder. He was terrified, his gaze frantically searching for a life threatening wound he had missed and he soon caught sight of the growing pool of blood beneath her thighs, red blooming on the front of her nightgown. 

His stomach dropped, his throat tightening as sheer agony lanced him like a whip. 

No, not our child.

“Get a Maester!” He screamed to the guards who lingered at the door who had been taking in the scene before them with horror. 

His sight soon became blurry as tears brimmed in his eye and swiftly fell down his face. He held her tighter, his face twisting in agony as he began to cry with her. 

“I’m sorry, my love. I’m so sorry.” He choked out, his heart cracking as she wailed in his arms. Each of her cries chipping away at another piece of him. 

It was all a blur to her. 

She gripped onto his tightly as he lifted her into his arms, carrying her to the Maester’s quarters. She kept her eyes shut, as if she could block out her waking nightmare, as if she could convince herself it wasn’t real. 

As she was laid on the bed, the only thing she could make sense of was Aemond’s arms that left her, causing her fear to spike again, her cries becoming more forceful as she desperately sought out her only beacon of comfort through her blurry gaze. 

“I’m here, issa prūmia. I’m not leaving.” Aemond’s voice sounded throughout the chaos. 

A sturdy hand soon gripped hers, making her relax, knowing it was him. It felt like hours, each second passing like an eternity as she was examined and stitched up. She barely felt anything at all. 

Nothing compared to the pain in her heart. The only thing she could comprehend were the agonizing cramps that signaled her loss, the end of the life she and her husband had created, the life they already cherished. 

Aemond watched his wife intently, swallowing thickly as he noticed she didn’t even flinch as they thread the needle through her palm. He winced and even had to look away as the Maester began working on the other side of her hand, realizing the blade had gone right through. 

Once they finished with her hand, he motioned for the Maester to hand over the damp cloth he grabbed, silently telling him he would handle the next step. Thankfully, the old man handed it over without protest and stood to grab some milk of the poppy. 

Aemond began to gently dab at her split lip, wiping away the blood as carefully as he could so as to not cause her any more pain. She’d felt enough for a lifetime tonight.

A flurry behind him barely caught his attention, though he stayed looking at his wife, not bothering to acknowledge the presence of another. 

“Aemond.” His mother breathed out, horror painting her gaze as she noticed the stark red blood that stained her good daughter’s legs and gown. 

She placed a shaking hand over her mouth, realizing what it had meant, realizing what her son had just lost. 

She moved forward on weak legs, placing a hand on her son’s shoulder, who still refused to look her way, his attention focused solely on his wife who lay despondent on the bed, her glassy eyed stare vacant and tortured, signaling she was miles away in torment, reliving the attack over and over again.

Alicent felt tears brim in her eyes and when she looked down at her son and noticed the tear tracks down his cheeks she was powerless to stop her own from falling. 

Aemond watched as the Maester brought a hearty dose of milk of the poppy. His gaze stayed locked onto his wife, his hand still holding hers, his fingers caressing gentle patterns over her knuckles, his whispered reassurances the last thing she heard as her eyes fluttered closed, the medicine quickly dulling her senses. 

He watched her breathe deeply in sleep for a long moment, as if needing to watch the steady rise and fall of her chest to assure himself that she was truly here, that despite the attempt, she still lived. 

He was left in a daze, the sounds around him dimming to nothing but an unnoticeable thrum in his ears. The sound of her cries was the only thing he heard, over and over again, the memory of them haunting him, causing him to feel as though he was seconds from losing the food in his stomach. 

His mother’s words didn’t reach his ears, he was numb to her comforting hand on his shoulder. He was numb to everything but his pain. 

Someone had tried to take the greatest thing from him, they had almost taken his love from him. He couldn’t even rejoice in the fact that she was still there with him, not with the despair of the loss of their child weighing so heavily on him. 

Relief wasn’t a feeling he could allow himself to reach. 

Soon, his mother gave up trying to get through to him, leaving the room with one last tearful glance to her son whose world had just crumbled before him. Just minutes later, the Maester stood, giving a polite bow as he moved to the door, leaving the couple for the night to heal the wounds he couldn’t bandage, his parting words sending a shiver down Aemond’s spine. 

I’m sorry for your loss.

Aemond’s jaw clenched. Those words made it real. 

There was now no denying the truth. Their child was gone. They wouldn’t soon have a little babe to hold and spoil. 

Aemond thought of the little boy he had pictured since she had told him she was pregnant. To think of him gone, to never grow, to never say a word, to never be held in his arms, was too much to bear. 

His chest felt tight, his throat suddenly feeling like it was closing in on itself, preventing him from taking in a breath. His eye burned, the tears stinging like acid. His face creased in despair, bringing his hand, that was still clutched to his wife’s hand, to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles as the tears began to fall again. 

A choked sob escaped him, the loss leaving him feeling as though the weight of the world was crushing him. 

He let himself cry, expelling everything he needed to, thankful his wife remained sleeping. He knew his tears would only hurt her further. She was the one whose life had been threatened, he needed to be strong for her, he needed to be the one to hold her as she broke. 

Aemond forced himself to watch over her as long as he could, eyeing her steady breaths, every one of them a salve for the horror he had witnessed while that blood soaked dagger was pointed at her. 

He wasn’t sure when it happened, but he had let his eye fall closed and drifted off to a fitful sleep as the sun began to rise. 

What seemed like only seconds later, he jerked awake, at first forgetting where he was, but the moment he felt the ache in his back, he was reminded that he was in the chair in the Maester’s solar. He remembered the attack, he remembered the blood, he remembered her cries, and he remembered their child.

I’m sorry for your loss.

The words burned him like fire and he breathed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stave off the pounding in his head. He shifted in the chair, wincing as his joints popped painfully from the uncomfortable position he had taken for the night. 

He rubbed his tired eye, blindly reaching out to the bed to take his wife’s hand in his yet again, but as his touch met the barren sheets of the bed, he sat up straighter, suddenly alert as he stared down at the empty bed before him with fear. 

The sight of the blood that stained sheets a lance through his heart, only propelling him deeper into fear.

Shooting up from his chair, he raced out of the room, his bewildered gaze meeting the startled expression of the guard at the door. 

“Where’s my wife?” He asked frantically.

“She left the room just a few minutes ago.” 

Aemond fumed silently, his hands clenching into fists as he fought the urge to pummel the man before him.

“And you didn’t think to follow her?” He seethed, the guard before him taking a cautious step backwards in fear of the flaming temper exploding before him. 

“The Princess seemed upset, I did not want to intrude-”

Aemond did not spare him a second look as he took off down the hall, pushing servants out of his way as he raced out of the Keep. 

He knew after last night, no one who had gone through what his wife had endured would be in their right mind. He feared what she would do, what her grieving mind would offer as solace that he was sure she so desperately was seeking. 

He slowed his pace in the middle of the courtyard, looking around frantically at the many stairs and exits she could have taken. 

He squeezed his eye shut, breathing heavily, his mind racing, the terror he was feeling yet again in such a short amount of time not allowing him to think clearly. 

Where would she go?

He wracked his mind, thinking of all their years together. He knew her better than anyone. If he couldn’t figure out where she would seek solace, then he didn’t deserve to be her husband. 

The sound of seabirds reached him through his daze and he spun on his heel, his gaze locking onto the birds that flew over the water. 

She loved the sea, she loved the waves of Ixtal. She always said they were healing. He remembered memories from his childhood, of her hand in his as they ran through the waves at the shore. 

He was running again before he could even comprehend it. 

Aemond’s chest was heaving from sprinting the entire way, his heart beat pounding in his ears as he stumbled over the rocks to get to the sandy shore. 

He almost stumbled over his own feet as his gaze fell on her figure down the coast line. 

He let out a shaking breath, muttering a breathless thank you to the Gods to see her sitting there and not floating face down in the water as his tortured mind had conjured. 

He approached her slowly, his face drawn tightly with concern as he noticed the dried tears that stained her cheeks once he was close enough. 

He said nothing as he sat himself down beside her, ignoring the feeling of the damp sand beneath him. He extended his legs, letting the waves crash against his feet, mirroring her stance. 

She didn’t make any move to acknowledge him, her gaze lingering on the horizon, the despair in her eyes never wavering. 

It broke his heart to see her in this state. The woman he loved was vibrant, she had a lust for life he always found impossible to grab yet infectious. He had never seen her light so dim and it broke something in him. 

He reached out, taking her hand in his, his silent assurance to her that he was there for her as he knew no words could ever reach what either of them felt or needed to handle their loss. 

“I want to go home.” Her weak voice choked out after a long silence. 

Aemond’s breath hitched at the sound of her so broken. He didn’t have any words, nothing he could say to comfort her. He couldn’t very well let her leave where he couldn’t follow, leaving her unprotected. 

He would die before he left her side. 

To deny her anything crushed him, but he couldn’t help but revert to selfishness. He couldn’t leave King’s Landing, not in the midst of a war and the thought of letting her leave his side wasn’t even a thought in his head. 

He wrapped his arm around her, his concern growing when he felt the chill of her skin. 

“Let’s go back to our chambers.” He spoke softly, using what little strength his drained body had left as he lifted her up to her feet, his arms holding her tightly, her guiding force to help her back in her daze. 

As they walked along the beach, beginning to make their way back to the Keep that now only held dreaded memories, he felt his eye sting again, his vision quickly becoming blurry.

He breathed deeply, holding tighter to his wife in his arms, blinking rapidly to stave off the tears that threatened to fall. 

He pushed past the feelings of grief that felt like they could drown him and put on a mask, pretending he wasn’t dying inside. 

~~

I'm sorry... the angst is only going to continue

~~

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