#is this door too heavy? should i be reaching this far?

[rainforestakiie]

Priest Adam x Devil/King of Hell Lucifer part 04

The Imp

hi everyone! i am back with the fourth instalment of @inubaki’s request! i think there might be one last part after this? maybe two! it is all leading up to something~ can't wait for everyone to read it!

‘A Priest observing that one of fathers in his charge seems to be heavily distracted by something no one else can see. Father Adam had come to them young, an unwanted fourth child to a Nobel family hoping to gain the church’s favor. Life is hard for Adam whim continues to wait for his family to return for him, growing into despair until one day he suddenly improves. He claims he’s spoken to an angel. And, to his credit, does give information far beyond what any child should know. But the older Adam gets, the more distracted he becomes. More happy, but conflicted. Till one day he disappears.'

The Imp (Priest Adam x Devil/King of Hell Lucifer) = Part 01. Part 02. Part 03. Part 04.

By the time Adam reached his sixteenth birthday, the nuns of the church began to act... strangely. Their behaviour shifted in subtle but unsettling ways, like shadows moving just out of the corner of his eye. It wasn’t the birthday celebration that unnerved him, there was no fanfare, no candles or songs, but the way they seemed to watch him, their eyes filled with something he couldn't quite decipher.

Sister Sera, normally soft-spoken and kind, now looked at him with a gaze that sent a chill creeping down his spine. She lingered too long in doorways, her once-gentle hands trembling ever so slightly as she clasped her rosary beads. Sister Uriel, the one who always offered a warm smile, now barely looked at him, her face pale and gaunt as if she’d seen something dreadful that she refused to speak of.

Their whispers grew louder, too. Hushed conversations behind thick wooden doors would fall to silence the moment Adam drew near, only to start up again in a frantic murmur once he passed. He began to feel as though he was an intruder in the place, he had called home for as long as he could remember.

At night, it was worse. The air in the church grew thick, almost suffocating. His room, usually a sanctuary of peace, felt heavy with an unseen presence. The crucifix above his bed seemed to cast strange, jagged shadows across the walls, distorting and shifting in ways that made his heart pound. Sometimes, just on the edge of sleep, he swore he heard something—a faint scratching from behind the walls, as if something was trying to get in.

He couldn't understand why turning sixteen had such a weight to it. Why did the nuns look at him with a mix of fear and pity, as though he were marked for something unspeakable? Their prayers became louder, more desperate, the candles in the chapel flickering wildly as if a wind was passing through, but the windows were sealed tight.

It was as though they were waiting. Waiting for something that only they knew was coming. Something tied to him—something that grew closer with every passing day.

The harsh whispers of the other orphans slithered through the corridors like poison-laced smoke, curling around Adam’s ears and tightening in his chest. He kept his head low, his eyes fixed on the worn stone floor as he shuffled past the children who watched him with narrowed eyes. Every whisper felt like a dagger, sharp and malicious, stabbing deeper into his already fragile mind. Adam couldn’t understand why his sixteenth birthday seemed to isolate him even more, as if a silent decision had been made that he no longer belonged—if he ever had.

He had always kept to himself, never one for loud conversations or playful scuffles in the courtyard. But now, it felt different. It felt... deliberate. The church, once a place of quiet refuge, had become suffocating. The orphans, who had once merely ignored him, now seemed to actively avoid him, or worse, blame him. For what, Adam didn’t know.

As he turned a corner into one of the dimly lit hallways, the faint sound of sobbing reached his ears. Adam paused, glancing down the corridor to see a young girl, no older than eight, kneeling beside the large glass tank in the corner. Her small shoulders shook with each quiet sob.

Adam hesitated, his brow furrowing as he slowly approached. His gaze shifted from the girl to the tank—and he froze. The water, usually clear and alive with bright, darting fish, was now still. Too still. Every fish floated lifelessly, their bodies eerily suspended in the water, scales reflecting the dim light in dull patterns. All of them were dead.

A sick feeling churned in Adam's stomach. He wanted to comfort the girl, tell her everything would be alright, even though he wasn’t sure it would. He took a tentative step forward, but before he could reach her, Eveline shoved him hard. He stumbled back, his hands bracing against the cold stone wall to keep from falling.

She didn’t speak—she didn’t need to. The glare she gave him said more than words could. Her dark eyes burned with accusation, with loathing. Adam swallowed, feeling his face grow hot under her gaze. He could feel the eyes of the other girls now, all of them staring at him with the same hostile look. They didn’t say it out loud, but he could hear it in their silence—they blamed him for the fish, for everything.

His throat tightened. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but no words came out. Instead, he turned and hurried away, his steps quick and uneven. The whispers behind him grew louder, harsher.

"Omen," they hissed. "Bad luck."

Adam's breath grew shallow as the words circled around him like vultures, picking at his mind.

Everything goes wrong when Adam’s around.

The words echoed louder, bouncing off the high walls of the church in his head. He hadn’t done anything—he didn’t understand why they hated him so much. His legs weakened, and he stumbled down by the towering grandfather clock at the end of the corridor, his hands trembling as he curled into himself. His vision blurred, and his chest ached as he gasped for air, panic rising like a storm inside him.

The whispers continued. He could hear them—he could feel them.

He’s cursed.

A hand on his shoulder jolted him, and Adam jerked his head up, wide-eyed, heart pounding in his throat. But it wasn’t one of the bullies. It was Steve.

Steve knelt down next to him; his face etched with concern.

"Hey, it’s alright," he murmured, his voice gentle but firm. "Don’t listen to them, Adam. They’re just being cruel."

Adam tried to steady his breathing, but the whispers lingered, faint and insidious in the back of his mind. He flinched as Eveline’s mocking voice floated down the hallway, louder than the rest.

"Cursed," she spat. "Bad luck, that’s what you are."

Steve’s expression hardened. "I swear, if she doesn’t stop, I’ll—"

He started to stand, but Adam grabbed his hand, shaking his head desperately, his wide eyes begging him not to go.

Steve sighed, his anger melting into a soft understanding.

"Okay, okay, I won’t go," he said, giving Adam’s hand a gentle squeeze. "But if I hear her say one more thing, I’m not biting my tongue."

Adam managed a small nod, still sniffling as he tried to calm himself down. The trembling in his hands slowly lessened, and Steve offered him a warm smile, his eyes twinkling as he said, “How about we head back to our room? I’ll tell you one of my terrible jokes on the way.”

Despite everything, Adam couldn’t help but smile. Steve always knew how to make things feel less... heavy.

With Steve’s help, Adam stood, and together they made their way towards their shared room. Steve kept his promise, launching into a stream of ridiculous dad jokes, each one worse than the last, until Adam found himself laughing softly despite the lingering dread that clung to him.

But as they reached the top of the staircase, approaching the landing where their room was, both stopped. A shadow, faint but unmistakable, slithered across the wall and disappeared into their room.

Steve's arm shot out protectively, stopping Adam from stepping forward. His face darkened with suspicion as he glared at the door. "If this is another one of their stupid pranks..."

His voice trailed off into a low growl, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "I swear, if they’ve messed with your stuff again, I’m telling Sister Sera this time."

Adam's stomach knotted as Steve marched toward the door, his voice rising. "Alright, we know you’re in there! Come out now, or—"

Steve’s voice faltered as he reached the doorway. His face twisted in disbelief; eyes wide.

Adam’s heart raced, curiosity mingling with fear. He hesitated, then, with trembling steps, he peeked around Steve, expecting to find their room ransacked, their belongings scattered in the usual cruel mess.

Inside the room, Adam expected chaos. The memory of last month's prank—the younger kids ransacking his things, throwing his belongings around like a cruel game—lingered in his mind. But this time, there was no mess. No scattered books, no overturned chair. The room was, at first glance, eerily neat... mostly clean. But it didn’t take long for Adam and Steve to notice something strange.

Black rose petals. Crispy, brittle, and dry as if scorched by some unseen fire. They were scattered across the floor in a deliberate path, leading from the doorway straight to Adam's bed. Adam’s pulse quickened. The dark petals felt out of place, sinister. His gaze followed the trail, and his heart skipped when he saw it—on his bed, nestled like a gift wrapped in death, was a large, beautiful bouquet of black roses. They were impossibly dark, each petal a velvety black, absorbing the dim light from the window.

Coiled around the base of the bouquet, a stark white snake lay perfectly still, its smooth body draped like a ribbon. Its eyes were half-lidded, tongue flickering lazily in and out. For a moment, Adam stood frozen, his mouth dry. His instincts screamed to back away, to run. The image of the snake contrasted sharply with the stillness of the room, like a silent predator waiting to strike.

But something strange urged him closer.

Steve stood behind him, staring in confusion. “Who the hell leaves a snake as a birthday present?” he muttered. “That’s... weird.”

Adam swallowed hard; his throat tight as he edged toward the bed. The snake remained still, almost docile. With shaky hands, he reached out, fingers trembling as they brushed the snake’s cool, smooth scales. To his surprise, the serpent didn’t react violently. Instead, it slithered lazily across his lap, its body coiling and uncoiling with soft, slow movements. The snake’s hissing was gentle, barely audible, as though it was whispering something only Adam could hear.

Adam blinked, finding himself strangely... calm. He sat down on the edge of the bed, his hand running over the bouquet of black roses. The scent that rose from them was intoxicating—a rich, sweet fragrance that flooded his senses. For a moment, all the tension drained from his body. He sighed, holding the roses close to his chest, as if the flowers offered him some unspoken comfort.

But Adam has no idea. He had no family…

Steve raised an eyebrow, scratching his head. “Yeah, well, it’s... odd. I mean, black roses? A snake?”

His gaze drifted down to the petals on the floor. His eyes narrowed, and he knelt down, running his hand over the path of blackened petals.

 “Am I tripping, or do these look like they’re arranged in a pentagram?”

Adam glanced at the floor; his curiosity piqued. But when he looked, the pattern didn’t immediately make sense to him. It was just petals, scattered in strange directions. He shrugged; the weight of the flowers still pressed close to his chest.

Steve stood up, shaking his head. "Maybe it's nothing."

With a huff, Steve turned his attention to his own bed, muttering about pranks and younger kids. He pulled the quilt back, fully expecting to collapse into the familiar comfort of his bedding. But instead, what he found turned his face pale, his mouth twisting into a grimace of disgust.

From beneath the quilt spilled writhing maggots, pale and slimy, squirming over thick patches of moist, black dirt. Worms writhed between the sheets, tangling together in a grotesque, pulsating mass. The stench hit them next—a damp, earthy smell, pungent with rot.

Steve’s horrified gasp echoed through the room, loud and guttural. He staggered back, his voice shaking with fury.

 "What the—! Adam, what the hell is this?!" His voice cracked as he cursed, his face twisted with rage and disgust. "I’m gonna kill those brats! This isn’t funny! This is sick!"

Adam’s heart pounded in his chest, cold fear washing over him as he stared at the infested bed. His breath came in short gasps, his fingers clenching tighter around the roses. Steve stormed toward the door, throwing it open with a fury Adam had never seen in him before.

“I swear to God, if I find out who did this, I’m telling Sister Sera right now!” Steve’s voice echoed down the hallway as he disappeared, his footsteps heavy with anger.

Adam sat frozen on the edge of his bed; his wide green eyes glued to the squirming mess that had been Steve’s bedding. His grip on the bouquet tightened, his thoughts racing. He didn’t understand why this was happening. Why were they targeting him again? What had he done?

The room felt suffocating, thick with an unnatural tension. The white snake, still draped lazily across his lap, slithered over his shoulder, it’s cool body pressing against his neck. Adam’s breath hitched, but then he felt something strange—something unsettling.

The snake’s head gently nuzzled his cheek, almost affectionately. It moved slowly, deliberately. And then—was that a laugh?

Adam blinked, his heart skipping a beat. He could’ve sworn the snake had... laughed. A low, soft sound, almost like a faint chuckle. But that couldn’t be right. Snakes don’t laugh. He shook his head, trying to push the thought away, but the eerie sensation lingered in the air, wrapping around him like a thick fog.

The petals on the floor shifted slightly, as if moved by an unseen breeze.

And deep inside him, something shifted, like a slow crack forming in the walls of his carefully contained world. Adam’s green eyes drifted back to the bouquet of black roses cradled in his lap, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he smiled. A soft, almost timid curve of his lips. The black petals, once ominous, now seemed beautiful in his hands—delicate, fragile, like something precious.

It was the first time anyone had given him flowers.

The thought sent warmth spreading through his chest, melting away the icy tendrils of fear that had been gripping him moments before. Adam’s fingers brushed over the velvet-like petals, his touch gentle, reverent. He had never received a gift like this—never been given anything with such a strange, intimate care. His mind wandered, his heartbeat slowing as a familiar name crept into his thoughts.

“Are… are…” he began softly, his voice barely a whisper as he glanced at the small white snake coiled around his neck. It’s cool, smooth body pressed against his skin like a comforting weight. Adam licked his dry lips and, for the first time in what felt like years, he allowed a soft, genuine smile to form.

“Are these a gift from… Luci?”

The name fell from his lips like a secret, hidden away for too long. Luci. The Imp. His Imp. The thought of Luci made Adam's heart swell, the melancholy that had wrapped around him for so long lifting, even if only for a moment. He hadn’t seen the little creature in over a year—not since the last time he’d been utterly alone, buried beneath the crushing weight of the orphanage’s cold, indifferent walls. Luci had always appeared when he was most vulnerable, when the sadness became too much to bear.

And now, with the bouquet of black roses in his arms, Adam couldn't shake the feeling that Luci had returned in some way. Even though the Imp wasn’t here physically, Adam could sense the connection, like an invisible thread pulling him back to those moments where Luci had made everything better.

The snake, with its calm, slithering movements, rubbed its small head against his cheek, as if in answer. The soft, cool pressure felt... affectionate. Reassuring.

Adam’s smile widened, his heart soaring with a childlike joy.

So, the roses were from Luci!

He pulled the bouquet closer to his chest, hugging the flowers tightly. The sweet, intoxicating scent filled his lungs, calming him. The strange weight of the day—the stares, the accusations, the dead fish, the maggots in Steve’s bed—seemed to fade into the background. None of it mattered anymore. Not when Luci was thinking of him. Not when the Imp had remembered him after all this time.

As he cuddled the flowers, his thoughts drifted back to the first time he’d seen Luci. He had been younger then, maybe ten or eleven, and utterly broken by the cruelty of the other children. It had been after a particularly awful prank that left him bruised and bleeding, and that night, in the dark corner of the chapel, Luci had appeared—a small, shadowy figure with mischievous eyes and a grin too wide for its face. Luci had never spoken a word, but Adam had understood. The Imp had made the pain go away, if only for a little while.

And now, Adam was sure Luci had returned, in some subtle, invisible way. The white snake nuzzling him, the black roses with their mysterious scent... they were all signs. Signs that Luci hadn’t forgotten him.

Still clutching the bouquet, Adam stood up slowly, his heart fluttering with excitement. The weight of the snake, now lazily draped across his shoulders, felt like a protective cloak, keeping him safe from the cruelty of the outside world.

Steve was still gone, likely yelling at Sister Sera about the mess in his bed, but Adam didn’t care. All he could think about was Luci, the strange, comforting presence that had once filled his life with a quiet, mischievous magic.

He glanced at the petals on the floor again. Steve had said something about them being arranged in a pentagram, but Adam didn’t see it that way. To him, they were part of Luci’s gift—an offering of beauty and mystery, just like the Imp had always been.

Adam’s fingers absentmindedly stroked the snake’s smooth, white body as he stood by the window, staring out at the darkening sky. His mind drifted, lost in the memory of Luci’s wide grin, the way the Imp had made him feel seen in a world that had otherwise forgotten him.

A soft, gentle hiss escaped the snake’s mouth, and Adam couldn’t help but smile again. Maybe the snake wasn’t Luci, but it was a reminder—a reminder that, even in the darkness, there were small moments of magic meant only for him.

As the last of the sunlight faded, casting long, eerie shadows across the room, Adam stood there, clutching the roses to his chest, feeling an odd sense of peace. Whatever had changed inside him, whatever connection had been rekindled with Luci, it made him feel alive in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

But beneath the calm, something darker lingered—a whisper in the back of his mind, soft and persistent. A feeling that this gift, beautiful as it was, had a purpose. That perhaps Luci wasn’t done with him yet.

“I think I will call you Basil.”

~#~

The days blended into one another as Adam and Steve became inseparable. Adam, mute and withdrawn, found solace in Steve’s presence, his constant companionship a balm to the loneliness that gnawed at him. Steve seemed to understand him without words, offering his quiet jokes and warm touches instead of prying questions. It was a sweet, gentle connection that Adam had never known before.

Adam couldn't go outside in the sun—his pale skin reacted violently to it—so Steve opted to stay inside with him, spending long hours in the dim corridors of the church, in the dusty, forgotten corners where the sunlight barely touched. When Adam sat in the library, his sanctuary, Steve would sit next to him, their knees brushing together and shoulders touching. There was a warmth to Steve’s presence, one that made Adam’s heart race in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying.

Always, Adam had Basil, his little white snake, curled around his wrist or resting on his shoulder. The snake had become his constant companion, a creature that seemed to understand his silence better than anyone. But Basil didn’t take kindly to Steve. Whenever Steve would get too close, the snake would hiss, its tongue flicking out aggressively, eyes narrowing in warning.

Steve, of course, made light of it, smiling that crooked grin that always made Adam's stomach flutter.

 “Basil’s our love child, you know,” Steve would say with a wink, reaching out to ruffle Adam’s hair. “He’s just mad ‘cause he doesn’t accept me as Papa yet.”

Basil would hiss in response, and Adam would blush deeply, his face turning scarlet. He’d bury his head in the bouquet of black roses still resting on his nightstand, hiding his burning cheeks. The joke lodged in his mind, making him wonder—if Steve was the “Papa,” did that make him the “mother”? The thought embarrassed him further, his thoughts tangled and confused.

But then, like a dark whisper creeping into his mind, Adam would remember Luci. His Imp, his protector. He thought of the delicate China-doll family he’d once created with Luci, an imaginary world where they belonged together. It felt real, so real, even though the Imp had been gone for a long time now. While Steve was here, by his side day in and day out, Luci’s absence hung over him like a shadow. Adam adored Luci, more than anything, but the Imp was hardly ever around. He wondered, conflicted, if he was betraying Luci somehow by growing so close to Steve.

Adam often found himself watching Steve when he thought the older boy wouldn’t notice—admiring his bright red hair, the way his freckles dotted his sun-kissed skin, like stars in a night sky. Adam wanted to reach out, to trace those freckles with his fingers, to count each one like a secret only he could uncover.

One afternoon, as they sat side by side in the library, Adam caught himself staring again, lost in thought, admiring how beautiful Steve looked in the soft light filtering through the tall windows. His eyes traced the sharp angles of Steve’s face, the way his lips curled up in that ever-present smirk.

Steve, sensing the attention, turned his head and caught Adam’s gaze. His grin widened, teasing.

“Like what you see?” he asked with a wink.

Adam’s face flushed crimson, his heart leaping into his throat. He quickly turned away, embarrassed and flustered, but Steve laughed—soft and joyful, a sound that made Adam’s heart skip a beat.

Steve leaned in closer, his breath warm against Adam’s ear. “I kind of like it when you look, you know,” he whispered, his voice low and playful.

Adam’s eyes widened in surprise, his pulse quickening. He turned back to Steve, his green eyes wide with confusion and hope, but before he could process the moment, a deafening bang shattered the quiet of the library.

Both boys jumped to their feet, startled. Adam’s heart raced, panic rising in his chest. The sound had come from somewhere deep within the library, and it was followed by the creaking groan of wood—heavy, ancient bookshelves shifting unnaturally.

Steve grabbed Adam’s hand, yanking him out of the narrow corridor between the shelves just in time to see the entire row of bookshelves begin to topple over, one by one. Like dominos, they fell, crashing down with a force that made the room shudder. Dust and old, forgotten books filled the air, the ground trembling beneath their feet as each towering shelf slammed into the next.

Adam’s eyes grew wide with terror. His heart pounded against his ribs as he stared at the destruction unfolding in front of him. It was as if the library itself was collapsing in on them, the walls closing in, the air growing heavy with dust and dread.

Just as the last shelf hit the ground with a resounding crash, the door to the library burst open, revealing Sister Sera and Uriel, their long black habits flowing behind them as they rushed in. The two nuns stopped dead in their tracks, eyes wide in shock as they took in the devastation around them.

“What in Heaven’s name happened here?” Sister Sera demanded, her voice sharp with disbelief.

Adam, as always, could not answer. His throat tightened; his tongue heavy in his mouth. He stood frozen, his hand still clasped tightly in Steve’s, his mind racing.

Steve squeezed his hand, stepping in front of Adam protectively, but even he seemed lost for words, his face pale with shock.

As Sister Sera and Uriel surveyed the wreckage, Adam’s eyes drifted toward the far corner of the library. Amidst the swirling dust and shadows, something flickered—just for a moment. A shape, small and dark, standing in the corner where the light didn’t reach. It was barely visible, but Adam’s heart skipped a beat as his gaze locked onto it.

A shadow. A familiar shadow. One that looked eerily like Luci.

Adam blinked, his breath catching in his throat. Was it really him? Could Luci have caused this?

No… Luci wouldn’t hurt him. Would he?

The figure in the corner flickered again, then disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Adam’s heart raced; his mind spiralling. He couldn’t be sure if it had been real or just his imagination playing tricks on him. But something deep inside him stirred—a gnawing unease, a whisper of doubt.

Steve’s grip on his hand tightened. He glanced down at Adam, his brow furrowed with concern. “You, okay?”

Adam nodded, but inside, his thoughts churned. What had caused the shelves to fall? Was it just an accident? Or had something—someone—else been at work? And if it was Luci… what did that mean?

For the first time, Adam felt a chill of fear creeping up his spine. The warmth of Steve’s hand in his own did little to chase it away.

~#~

Adam’s eighteenth birthday marked the start of a new change, though he couldn’t quite understand why. Something simmered beneath the surface, like an itch just out of reach. His heart fluttered in his chest, that familiar warmth creeping up his neck and colouring his cheeks. He sat shyly at the foot of his bed, hands nervously clutching the edge of the mattress, his emerald eyes gleaming as they fell upon the brightly coloured box before him.

The box was adorned with adorable apple-like patterns, almost childlike in their simplicity, framed with soft pastel shades that seemed out of place in the dimly lit room. Adam couldn’t help but sigh sweetly at the sight of it. It was too perfect, too innocent for the atmosphere that hung heavy around him, but something about it tugged at his heart. Maybe it was the care Steve had put into it, or perhaps the fleeting joy it brought into the otherwise oppressive stillness of the church.

“Happy birthday, Addie!”

Steve’s voice broke the silence, cheerful and far too loud for the tiny room. The ridiculous party hat perched on his head, with the same apple patterns decorating it, only added to the absurdity of the moment. He grinned wildly, eyes crinkling in amusement, and with a flourish, he pulled the string of a party-popper above Adam’s head. Streams of brightly coloured ribbons rained down over Adam, catching in his hair and across his shoulders, mixing with the soft, white scales of Basil, who had lazily coiled himself around Adam’s neck.

“Whoop! Whoop!” Steve cheered, fist-pumping the air gleefully.

“Another year older! Another step closer to the end!” His laughter echoed through the small space, carefree and full of life. “Soon, the afterlife of a Sinner will be for you~”

Adam blinked in surprise at Steve’s strange choice of words, but a small smile tugged at his lips, despite himself. He looked up through the shower of ribbons, his heart swelling at Steve’s exuberance, at the way he tried so hard to make this day special. The church was always cold, dark, and looming—its ancient walls held secrets, whispers, and shadows—but Steve managed to bring light into Adam’s world, even if only for a moment.

Basil, however, was less impressed. The white snake shifted, its long body coiling tighter around Adam’s neck, lifting its head to fix Steve with an unblinking, reptilian stare. A soft, warning hiss escaped Basil’s throat, his forked tongue flickering in and out, as if expressing its distaste for the loudness and fuss.

Steve, always unfazed, chuckled and ruffled his fiery red hair, adjusting the ridiculous hat on his head.

 “Come on, Basil. You’ve got to accept me eventually. I’m part of the family too, know.” He winked at Adam. “He’s just jealous cause he’s not the centre of attention today.”

The snake hissed again, and Adam’s cheeks flushed deeper as he hid his face, stifling a giggle. He couldn’t help but think how true Steve’s words were, in a way. Basil did seem possessive, always there, watching, observing every interaction Adam had with Steve. But Basil was more than just a pet. The snake had been with Adam through so much—through every cruel word, every cold glance from the other orphans, every inexplicable event that marked Adam’s life with an eerie, unshakable tension.

His focus homed in on Steve. Steve, who had always been there. Steve, who had never missed a birthday. Steve, who was the one constant in his life filled with silence and shadows.

The way Steve was grinning at him now sent a rush of warmth through Adam’s veins, disarming the tension that had wrapped itself around his heart. Adam could feel his cheeks flush, his gaze caught in Steve’s, unable to look away. Something about Steve’s presence always managed to soothe the darkness, make the ever-lurking fear dissipate, even just for a moment.

Steve noticed him staring again, the same teasing grin pulling at the corners of his lips. Without hesitation, he leaned forward, closing the space between them, ignoring the soft warning hiss that slipped from Basil’s mouth. Steve’s fingers brushed against Adam’s cheek, a feather-light touch that made Adam’s breath hitch in his throat.

Adam gasped, his wide eyes locking with Steve’s as his body jolted in surprise. The touch, so gentle, so deliberate, sent a ripple of unfamiliar sensations through him. His heart stuttered, caught between terror and longing.

Steve’s voice dropped to a hushed whisper, his tone intimate and tender.

"I’ve got another birthday present for you, Addie," he murmured, his words barely audible above the soft hiss of the snake. "If you want it."

Adam’s throat went dry, and all he could do was nod, the motion slow and unsure, but the pull towards Steve undeniable. He felt himself leaning closer, drawn in by the warmth of Steve’s presence, the safety he exuded. And then, softly, hesitantly, their lips met.

The kiss was gentle, sweet, a soft press of lips that sent Adam spiralling. His heart raced, but it wasn’t fear that fuelled it this time—it was something deeper, something that made his entire body hum with a nervous, fluttering energy. His hands clenched the edges of the bed, knuckles white, as he melted into the moment, into Steve’s warmth. His face flushed hot, the room around them blurring as every sense seemed to home in on the way Steve’s lips felt against his.

When they finally parted, Adam’s breath caught, and his eyes flickered up to meet Steve’s. His cheeks were burning, his mind spinning in a thousand different directions. Steve was watching him with that same teasing grin, though this time there was something more—something softer in his eyes.

"Was I really that good of a kisser?" Steve teased, his voice a low chuckle, but Adam could see the hint of vulnerability behind it, as if he truly wanted to know.

Adam’s face burned hotter, and he shyly shrugged, unable to find the words to answer. He couldn’t speak, of course—he never could—but even if he had the ability, he wasn’t sure what he’d say. His emotions were tangled, his mind buzzing with thoughts he didn’t quite understand yet. But the warmth in his chest was unmistakable.

Steve laughed, the sound filling the room and cutting through the lingering tension like a ray of sunlight piercing a storm. He reached for the brightly wrapped gift on the bed, the apple-patterned box that had caught Adam’s attention earlier and shook it playfully.

"You still need to open this before we get to the cake," Steve charmingly said.

Adam smiled, a soft, almost bashful smile, and reached out to take the gift. His hands trembled slightly as he began to unwrap it, the delicate paper crinkling under his fingers. He felt a surge of warmth as he unwrapped the gift, but the darkness that had hung over him for so long lingered in the corners of the room, in the shadows that seemed to move when no one was looking.

Basil hissed again, his small body coiling tighter around Adam’s neck, his beady eyes watching Steve warily. The snake had always been protective of Adam, sensing something that Adam himself couldn’t quite understand. And as much as Adam adored Steve, something in the air felt different now thicker, charged, as if the kiss had shifted something deeper within him.

Steve had taken his first kiss.

Adam hoped Steve would take his firsts.

Basil hissed again, his breath seething through clenched teeth, the sound sharp and venomous like the warning of a cornered serpent. The room had shifted, its shadows thickening, pressing in from the edges with a suffocating weight. It was as though the very walls recoiled from what had just unfolded, casting the space into a murky twilight that swallowed the light. Disappointment hung in the air like a cold, damp fog, seeping into every corner of the box-shaped room. Basil’s dark eyes, gleaming with barely concealed contempt, flickered over the two figures, his gaze a smouldering accusation.

A shudder crawled down Steve’s spine, an icy finger trailing across his skin as if something unseen had brushed against him. He instinctively pressed a trembling hand to the back of his neck, his pulse quickening beneath his fingertips. The air in the room was thick, heavy with something unspoken, something dangerous. His eyes darted, scanning the dim space, searching for any sign of what might be lurking just out of sight.

But nothing. Only silence, and the relentless, oppressive darkness creeping closer.

Steve forced a tight smile, his lips twitching as he glanced toward Adam, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes. There was a flicker of unease there, a crack in his composure that betrayed the mounting tension crawling beneath his skin. Adam smiled back, but there was something off about it. Something cold. Something wrong.

In the shadowed corners of the room, the darkness seemed to pulse, alive with a quiet, watching malice.

~#~

Adam woke early, an unsettling sense of wrongness gnawing at him before his eyes had even fully opened. The stillness of the morning felt heavy, thick, like the air before a storm. He sat up slowly, his gaze sweeping across the dim room with wary caution. The wardrobe stood against the far wall, its dark wooden surface looming ominously in the low light, just as it always had, but something about it seemed different. The knots in the wood looked like eyes, watching, waiting. That old fear from his childhood resurfaced, making his throat tighten. For years, he had tied the skipping rope around the handles, a makeshift lock against whatever terror his young mind had believed lived inside. The rope was still there, frayed from countless knots and untangling.

Adam swallowed thickly, his stomach twisting with a sick sense of dread, though he couldn’t pinpoint why. He shifted his gaze toward Steve’s bed, expecting to see his best friend’s familiar figure tangled in the sheets. But the bed was empty, the covers rumpled and tossed aside. A chill settled in Adam’s bones.

Steve was never a morning person... Where could he be?

Adam pushed the quilts off his legs, his muscles tense as if sensing something terrible was on the horizon. His feet touched the cold floor, but before he could stand, his eyes drifted to the pillow beside him, where Basil—his little white snake—always curled up to sleep.

But Basil was gone.

A surge of panic shot through Adam, a sick wave of worry washing over him. His heart pounded in his chest, the rhythm erratic, as if something was beating inside him, trying to get out. He forced himself up, though his legs trembled beneath him, weak and unsteady. The room suddenly felt too quiet, too empty, like a hollow shell of what it had been only the night before. Something was wrong. Something was deeply, horribly wrong.

Adam stepped into the corridor, the cold air biting at his skin. The wooden floor creaked beneath his feet, the sound unnervingly loud in the silence. Each step felt like a whisper of warning, as if the house itself was trying to tell him to turn back. But he couldn’t. He had to find Steve. He had to find Basil.

He was halfway to the staircase when a deafening crash reverberated through the house, followed by a scream that tore through the quiet like a knife. The sound hit Adam like a physical blow, and his ears buzzed with a strange, oppressive white noise. His body moved on instinct, stumbling forward, his breath coming in shallow, panicked gasps. When he reached the top of the stairs, he froze, peering over the rail.

Below him, the corridor was alive with chaos. Nuns rushed toward the staircase, their black habits swirling like storm clouds. Children gathered in frightened clusters, their faces pale with shock. And there, at the bottom of the stairs, lay Steve.

Adam’s heart clenched painfully in his chest. Steve’s body was twisted, one leg bent at an unnatural angle, his face contorted in pain. Sister Sera was crouched beside him, her hands fluttering over his broken form as she called for help. Adam's blood turned to ice as he crouched at the top of the stairs, gripping the wooden beams so tightly his knuckles turned white. His mind reeled, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

Steve had been pushed.

He had to have been.

There was no other explanation. But when Adam looked around, there was no one near him. No one except... himself.

His thoughts spiralled into panic.

 No, no, no... I didn’t push him. I couldn’t have.

He loved Steve, more than anything in this world. The very idea of hurting him made Adam’s stomach churn with nausea. But if it wasn’t him, then who?

A soft hiss broke the suffocating silence, sending a jolt of terror through Adam. His head snapped toward the sound, and his blood ran cold. Slithering across the floor, near the base of the stairs, was Basil. The little white snake was moving away from the chaos, toward the shadowed wall. Adam’s breath caught in his throat as he watched, paralyzed, as Basil approached the dark corner.

Then, from the wall, something shifted—something not quite human. A shadow emerged, its form impossibly black, save for the glowing red eyes that burned like embers in the darkness. The shadow was tall, towering, with a grotesque, distorted shape. Long, spindly fingers—each ending in sharp, razor-like claws—extended from the wall, reaching out with slow, deliberate intent.

Basil slithered up the shadow’s outstretched hand and melted into it, disappearing into the darkness as though he’d never existed.

Adam’s entire body went rigid with fear, his pulse pounding so hard he could hear it thundering in his ears. He clung to the wooden beams, his fingers digging into the splintered wood as his breath came in short, panicked bursts. The shadow seemed to breathe, the air around it is growing colder, more suffocating.

The thing’s red eyes locked onto Adam, burning with a hunger that sent a violent tremor through his body.

“…Luci?”

~#~

Adam sat on the edge of his bed, the room cold and suffocating with the weight of silence. His once bright emerald eyes, now dull and lifeless, stared blankly across the room at Steve’s empty bed, his gaze lingering on the rumpled sheets that had remained untouched since the accident. Steve had been gone all day, whisked away to the infirmary, and the gnawing void his absence left behind felt like a stone lodged in Adam’s chest, pressing down with a cruel weight. His heart pounded so heavily, it felt as though the rhythm was hammering against his skull, each beat sending sharp pulses of pain through his temples.

No one had spoken to him. Not since the fall. Not even Sister Sera, who always had a kind word or a calming hand to offer. Now, they all avoided him like a plague. Their whispers had grown louder, more pointed. Their eyes slid away from him whenever he entered a room, and the few that dared to meet his gaze only held fear and suspicion.

They blame me, Adam thought bitterly, his hands twisting anxiously in his lap. He could feel their judgment pressing against him, even when they weren't looking. They thought he was cursed. Maybe they were right.

The shadows lengthened as night fell, the church slowly sinking into a haunting stillness. The distant echo of footsteps faded, leaving Adam alone with nothing but his thoughts—and the horrible guilt gnawing at his insides. He couldn’t sit still any longer. Something was wrong. Steve... Steve needed him.

His legs shook as he rose to his feet, a trembling breath escaping his lips. He stood there for a moment, trying to gather his courage. The air felt heavy, thick with the same oppressive tension that had haunted him since Steve’s accident. His fingers fidgeted nervously, twisting together as he tiptoed toward the door. The corridor stretched out in front of him like a dark and endless tunnel, but Adam knew where he had to go.

Moving as quietly as he could, he slipped out of the room, his bare feet padding softly along the cold, creaking wood. Every step felt like a risk, as if the house itself was watching him, waiting for him to make a mistake. The nuns wouldn’t approve of him being out of bed at this hour, especially not after everything that had happened. But none of that mattered now.

As he neared the dumbwaiter, the familiar small shaft embedded in the wall, he felt a flicker of hesitation. The tiny door slid open with a soft creak, just as it had so many times before. Adam paused, his breath catching in his throat. Was he really doing this? He’d climbed into that dumbwaiter so many times as a child, but it felt different now. Everything felt different. Darker. More dangerous. The whispered rumors of his curse tugged at the corners of his mind.

Emily lost her sight because of you. Steve fell because of you. This is all your fault.

He couldn’t shake the thought, no matter how much he wanted to. The fear clawed at him, twisting in his gut. But he had to know. He had to see.

With a sharp inhale, Adam climbed into the dumbwaiter. The space was tighter now, more claustrophobic, his shoulders brushing the sides as he squeezed himself in. The door slid shut with a loud thud, sealing him inside the darkness. His heart raced as the dumbwaiter suddenly lurched, the cables groaning as it began its rapid descent through the building. Faster and faster it went, the air rushing past him, the sound of rattling metal filling the tiny compartment.

And then, with a final jarring thud, it stopped.

The door creaked open, revealing the dimly lit basement beyond. Adam’s stomach turned as he peered into the room, the smell of damp stone and cold metal filling his nostrils. It was just as he remembered, yet something about it felt... wrong.

The room stretched before him, long tables lined both sides, and unlit bulbs dangled from the ceiling like forgotten eyes. Most of them still worked, casting faint, yellow light, but one bulb had blown, leaving a portion of the room drenched in deep shadow. The darkness seemed to pulse there, thick and unsettling, the broken bulb giving the entire space an eerie, abandoned feel.

Adam’s footsteps were cautious as he stepped out of the dumbwaiter, his heart pounding with every movement. The floor beneath him felt colder here, the chill creeping up through his feet as he approached the turn at the far end of the room. His breaths came shallow, quick, the silence pressing in around him like a living thing.

“Luci?” he called, curling his hands in front of himself. “Luci, I want to talk to you.”

“Luci?”

[spiderbeam]

🎧+carlos+24

🎧 — ¿con quién se queda el perro? (“who is the dog staying with?”) by jesse y joy

a/n: it’s 1:50 am as i’m posting this && it turned out much longer than i expected so…. prepare for angst and enjoy <3

The first thought that crosses your mind as you’re walking across your flat to open the door is that this feels weird. No matter how much you try to push it away, you can’t help it. It’s weird, hearing him knock on the door. You don’t understand why that’s the thing has thrown you off most during a week like this. It’s not the piles of boxes, or the bed that is only half-undone, the emptied drawers, the missing pictures, the packed-up racing simulator. It’s him knocking.

He has a key. He has one, because he hasn’t yet given it to you. Because you still can’t bring yourself to ask for it.

The door creaks open, and you’re met by Carlos’ tired brown eyes. His hair looks messy, his complexion paler than it should. He hasn’t been sleeping well.

To be fair, neither have you.

“Hi,” he says quietly, eyes searching your face. You can’t look much better than him.

“Hi,” you repeat, opening the door wider for him.

“How did you sleep?” he asks, shuffling besides you and into the apartment he used to call home.

“The bed isn’t that bad,” you say. Even though you aren’t here. The thought comes to you unbidden. It makes a sourness seep into your mouth.

You close the door behind you. He stands a respectful distance from you, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. And that distance… it’s too far away, but not enough altogether. Too close, too distant.

The two of you linger there, in a silence that seems to stretch between the two of you. There’s a ghost of laughter, of kisses and promises whispered against your lips. Of fingers toying with his hair and murmurs pressed against your navel.

You don’t remember the last time silence stretched like this between the two of you.

“I will be quick,” Carlos promises quietly.

“You don’t have to be,” you respond, and you can see his brown eyes soften. What’s done is done, you have to remind yourself. You made your choice. But there’s a tenderness for Carlos that you’ll never be able to shed. There’s a room in your heart for him—he made home of it years ago. It will take time for him to vacate it—longer than it will your apartment.

Carlos nods eventually, letting his gaze scour your flat. It feels hollow. A phantom. You had grown used to an empty apartment. With Carlos’ line of work, it was near impossible to have him with you for longer stretches of time. You thought you could bear it—seeing him once, twice a week, maybe less. You thought the breaks between races could make up for an empty bed. You thought you would learn to cope with it. That missing him would make being with him all the better. You thought you could learn.

But he loves being a driver too much. And when he told you about Ferrari not renewing his contract for next year, an ugly, venomous thing started festering in your heart. Maybe he won’t drive next season. It was a seed of hope tangled with a blooming selfishness. Because you weren’t sad, you weren’t angry, you weren’t sympathetic—you were relieved. Relieved at the possibility that your boyfriend could be at the end of his career.

And what an ugly, awful thing that is to think about the person you love. And while that rotting hope wasn’t the first sign, it was definitely the last one you needed.

Carlos loves driving. It comes at the cost of him being away more often than not.

You couldn’t keep living like this.

Carlos runs his hand down the line of his jaw. He does it when he’s anxious, frustrated. He doesn’t meet your gaze when he says: “A few reporters might reach out to you.” You don’t mention the fact that they already have. Your spam folder is not large enough. “I will—I will make sure someone from my team helps you out with that. But if you want someone else, I can arrange—“

“Thank you,” you say, a murmur, barely audible in itself. But the silence is heavy, and the way his lips press together tells you he heard you.

“I wanted—“

“Do you—“

And the silence snaps back into place near immediately, eyes staring at each other with something you can’t seem to place. Familiarity that borders on unfamiliar. You’ve known him for ten years, loved him for nine, dated him for eight. There are traces of Carlos carved into every edge of your life. He knows you better than you know yourself. And when the words can’t seem to dislodge from your throat, you know he can tell. You swallow, and instead nudge your head towards the door on your left. Carlos nods tightly, and leads first into what used to be your shared bedroom.

You follow behind him, almost hesitantly. He’s big—he blocks most of your view when you step back in. You almost wish he did entirely. But the moment he moves even slightly to the side, you want to shove him out of the room. You hadn’t realized just how exposed, how bare it would make you feel.

Your side of the bed is tidy, blankets straight without a wrinkle in sight. His side—

His side is messy, with blankets strewn together and his pillow halfway on the floor. You look away too quickly, but your heart stammers at the idea that the outline of you is still visible on the mattress.

He probably noticed it the second he stepped inside. You avert your gaze, looking up at the ceiling. But you can feel Carlos’ stare burning onto the side of your cheek.

You’re not sure what compelled you to sleep on his side of the bed. He rarely ever slept here at all—and when he did, the two of you would end up tangled together, meeting each other in the middle of the mattress. His pillow wouldn’t even smell like him.

Even then, it’s hard to imagine he won’t be here anymore. That you won’t be falling asleep knowing he’s coming back.

You clear your throat. It feels scratchy. “Um, I’ll be in the kitchen if you—“

“You don’t have to leave,” Carlos says, a little too quickly. He swallows sharply. “It’s your apartment. You shouldn’t be…” he trails off, his big brown eyes meeting yours. You nod in understanding.

You stand off to the side while Carlos rummages through the dresser. With his back turned towards you, you take the chance to steady yourself. Breathe in. Breathe out. You knew this would be hard. You knew. It doesn’t make it easier.

You remember the headlines from the day the news broke. Convertidos en extraños muy cordiales. It still makes your skin crawl.

Strangers. You’ve been a part of each other’s lives for a decade. You don’t remember what not knowing Carlos feels like.

He moves away from the dresser and towards his side of the bed. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him turning slightly towards you.

He thinks you don’t notice it. He thinks you’re looking away when he opens the drawer of his nightstand. He thinks you don’t notice the small, velvet box he pulls out and shoves into his pocket. It wouldn’t matter, anyway—you found it two nights ago.

He was going to ask you to marry him.

This time you do look away, cheek muscle trembling as you force yourself to bite down any tears.

It was a mutual decision. It’s what you told the press, what you told your friends, what you told yourself. It’s the truth.

It stings anyway.

The two of you are leave the bedroom eventually, one after the other. It’s the last time he’ll be in here like this. Your vision blurs. You’ll have to sell the bed. Get a smaller one. You blink the tears away.

Carlos runs a hand through his hair. He tugs too hard, and you nearly reach for his hand. The chide rests on your tongue—you need to be more gentle with yourself. You swallow the words, but they stick to the back of your throat.

Carlos sighs. “Princesa—” It slipped out. He didn’t mean to call you that—you can tell by the way his shoulders tense, how his whole body seems to lock into place. There’s a flicker of panic, of anguish in his expression. He clicks his tongue, tugs on his hair too roughly again, and swallows whatever it was he intended to say.

Instead, Carlos hands you something, and for a moment, you think it’s the ring.

It hurts. Your friends told you the pain would dull with time. You wouldn’t say yes, you realize, even if he pulled the ring now. You’ve spent more nights alone than beside him during the past year. You’ve fallen asleep alone in a cold, empty bed more often than not. You love him—you do. A part of you fears you always will. Saying no would hurt just as much.

The cold metal presses against your palm. It’s not an engagement ring.

It’s his key.

You look up at him. His throat bobs and his fingers twitch, like he wants to reach out to you.

He doesn’t.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, and your voice breaks at the end.

He nods his head, looking away. His eyes look glassy.

“Me too.”

eve’s 1k celebration 🎧

a/n: godd this song was such a throwback,,, i managed to sneak more than a few lyrics (many translated ones & one in spanish) in there so those that get it…. yknow. really really really recommend listening to the song even if you don’t speak spanish!!! spotify gives you the option to read the lyrics in english so u definitely should give it a listen <3

[randolphbellmd]

i do not like this phase of recovery

[lilithland]

imagine you’re running late, trying to move some laundry, because of course as the inferior sex, you do the cooking and the cleaning

you’re almost done moving your clothes when you see your favorite sock stuck in the back of the machine, you try to stick your arm as far into the machine as possible but you still can’t reach the sock

you maneuver your body until your head and both arms are in the machine, you successfully grab your sock but when you go to pull your body out of the machine you find you are stuck

you wiggle and squirm but can’t seem to get out of the washing machine

your partner was supposed to pick you up for a date later (you had left them a little note hoping to suprise them when they got home) so you knew eventually someone would come to your rescue

20 minutes later you’re scared shitless when you hear a loud knock at your door, it can’t possibly be your partner because they have a key and it’s way too early for them to be back

you start to panic a little but try to ration that a burglar wouldn’t try to knock first before entering, you hear the loud knock again followed by your door opening

“maintenance”

you don’t know if you should holler for help or pray to god that they don’t enter your laundry room, you’re beyond humiliated at your predicament

luck was not on your side, you hear heavy footsteps approach you, you hear a low whistle behind you

“and what do we have here?” rumbles a deep voice

you swallow your pride, “hi, um, sorry about this, wo-would you be able to help me … please?”

large hands grab your hips, you naively think you’re about to be set free

when instead of attempting to pull you out of the machine, one hand retracts and lands a hard smack on your ass

you scream in pain and jolt a little in the machine

“what the hell is wrong with you?!” you scream trying harder to wiggle your way out

“well sweetheart, when i enter a house and find a note that says i can’t wait for all the dirty things you want to do to me and then find a hot babe with an incredible ass on display, i have to oblige and give them the fucking of a lifetime”

you still at his words, he had found the note you left for your partner, he thinks you set up this elaborate plan to have wild sex with a stranger

“no you don’t understand that was meant for my partner i am seriously stuck please help me get out” you start pleading and begging

“sure, and i’m sure you’re gonna keep screaming no and for me to stop, even while your cunt squeezes and cums on my hard cock over and over again, is that the game we’re gonna play tonight sweetheart?”

you really start to thrash inside the machine, it doesn’t matter what you say, this stranger is about to r4pe your tiny holes

he shushes you as he continues to grope your ass with his giant hands

he flips the skirt you had been wearing up over your ass, giving him a perfect view of your thong

your boobs hadn’t quite made it into the machine, he yanks your tank top down freeing your titties, smushing them against the cold machine

the cold instantly makes your nipples hard and you can’t help the moan that escapes your lips

“oh is someone finally getting excited?”

the strangers rough hands pinch your nipples as you start back up your protests of no’s

he gives your titties a rough smack and you scream and jolt in the machine again

he alternates between painful pinching and rough slapping, you start crying with how rough he’s being

“doesn’t matter how much you protest princess, i know you’ll be soaked when i go check on your princess parts again”

you refuse to believe him, but when his hands stop abusing your tits and go to remove your thong, you can feel the sticky trail being pulled from you

you feel his rough fingers collecting the juices at your enterance, the embarrassment of it all makes you leak around his hand even more

he wipes your girl juice along your thighs and all over your ass, the more his fingers just barely touch your cunnie to collect more, the more you drip for him

you hate how your body is betraying you

he removes his fingers and you hear some shuffling, you emotionally try to prepare yourself to be thrusted in to

you weren’t expecting to feel a wet tongue

you werent expecting to feel a wet tongue eating out your ass

you try to squirm but in the process accidentally push back more onto his tongue

his big hands deliver a hard smack to your thighs before pinning them down and holding them in place

“i can also go in dry baby doll”

you totally still at the implication he’s going to fuck your ass

you whimper and cry more

he removes one hand from your thigh and starts to play with your inferiority hole while he continues to eat out your asshole, he alternates between rubbing your nub, a little too hard, and roughly fingering your fuck hole

you don’t know how but his rough administrations make you have cummies

you clench the fingers inside you tightly as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm

before he stands he spits a glob of saliva right on top of your asshole

seconds later he’s rubbing his hard cock up and down your slit, collecting all of your girl juices as you continue to leak

without warning he starts to slowly and painfully shove his dick into you

each inch is excruciatingly painful and his dick seems to go on forever and ever

by the time he bottoms out you think you might pass out, there has to be at least eight inches of dick in your freshly r4ped asshole

he stills for a moment and decides to abuse your body some more while you adjust to his length

he smacks your ass and your titties, runs your overstimulated clit too hard and too fast

when he’s done playing with your body he grips your hips painfully and begins to piston in and out of your ass

he sets a brutal pace from the start, roughly fucking you against the washing machine

your abused and sensitive tits sway with each thrust, causing them to smack against the machine over and over again

you lose track of time, only knowing the sensation of your asshole being abused

without warning you hear a guttural grunt and feel a warmth deep in your gut

the maintenance man pulls out with a plop

“don’t worry baby, i’ll make sure to get a video of your gaping asshole leaking my hot sperm into your delicious cunt”

you’re horrified at every aspect of what he just said, your stomach churning at that the thought of such a video getting uploaded to the internet

as he said, you can feel the cum leaking out of your open asshole, slowly dripping towards your inferiority hole

as the sperm starts to pool, his fingers are on you again

or rather in you, his fingers easily slide into your gaping asshole, collecting his own jizz

to your continued horror he then shoves his fingers deep into your cunt, fucking his cum into the proper fuck hole

you aren’t on any birth control

his fingers move in and out of you slowly, you’re humiliatingly wet so he has no problem getting a few in you

“should i cum in your pussy next or try to get my fist in your ass?”

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

it’s downright pouring outside.

suguru rests on the living room couch, cooped up in a bundle of soft blankets, watching droplets ricochet against the windows. heavy, sharp, like the rain is trying to break into your apartment — a steady pitter patter that makes him feel at ease.

it’s cozy, he thinks. being indoors, safe and warm and dry, while the outside world is blanketed by gray. wearing baggy clothes, a pair of reading glasses, his hair tied up into a loose bun; slender fingers turning the pages of the new novel you gave him.

he thinks of you, and finds himself frowning.

suguru got home just before storm clouds gathered in the sky — but as far as he knows, you’re still outside. he’s memorized your comings and goings, what time you usually return home, the paths you tend to favour. as any attentive roommate should.

so he’s a little worried. usually, you’d be home by now. and you still haven’t replied to his messages.

tentatively, he reaches for the warm cup of tea on the coffee table, bringing the ceramic to his lips. sipping from the green, honeyed brew, letting the scent soothe his growing nerves. he shouldn’t be too high-maintenance; you’re a perfectly capable adult. if he nags at you all the time, you’ll just be weirded out. and the last thing he wants is to scare you away.

so it’s fine. you’re fine, he’s sure. there’s no need for him to freak out over your whereabouts. he needs to maintain his cool, calm exterior.

— suddenly, the click of a lock being turned.

suguru’s head whips towards the front door. a moment passes, and then he’s stumbling to his feet, untangling himself from the heap of blankets he’s burrowed into — gently setting the cup back on the table, fixing his hair, making sure he’s presentable — before making his way towards the hall.

and there you are. clumsily dragging the door open, stumbling inside, keys jingling as you step over the threshold; absolutely soaked. just as he feared.

”hey…”

you meet his gaze. panting softly, cheeks a little flushed, wet locks of hair sticking to your forehead and neck. disheveled, letting out a sheepish little laugh — gosh, why do you have to be so cute? — leaning down to pull your shoes off. you’re wearing a thin, white shirt. entirely drenched. 

suguru looks away, a heat sticking to his cheeks.

”hey,” you greet, a little out of breath. tossing your shoes away, tugging absently at your collar. ”god. i feel like a drowned rat.”

at that, he lets a little chuckle slip. shaking his head, taking a step back — careful not to let his gaze stray towards the soaked fabric of your clothing. ”why didn’t you call me? i would have picked you up.”

”well, i thought about it,” you hum, walking right past him, ”but i figured you’d still be at work.”

suguru frowns, ever so slightly, discontentment in his eyes. ”… they let me go early today. but you should have texted me, either way. what if you get sick?”

”i’ll be fineeee,” you slip on a grin, turning back to face him. ”just need a quick shower. don’t worry, okay?”

he narrows his eyes, playfully, enjoying the way your eyes crinkle in response. then he exhales, hands on his hips. feigning exasperation. 

”… fine, fine. need me to go get you a clean shirt?”

”ah. well...” you let out a wince, earning a tilt of his head. ”i haven’t done my laundry, in like… a week.”

a moment passes. suguru’s lips curl up, an exasperated exhale slipping from his lips. he gazes at you, ever so fondly, raising a brow. ”i asked you if you needed me to wash anything for you.”

”i know, but…” you scratch at the back of your neck, letting out a breathy sigh. ”i don’t want you to pull all my weight. we both live here.” now there’s a pretty little pout on your lips. it makes suguru want to run his thumb over the sensitive skin, soothe it away.

but he only clears his throat. 

”i don’t mind,” he answers, truthfully. ”i like doing laundry. you know that.”

”… still.”

his smile only grows, at your quiet mumble, something soft blooming in his eyes. he takes a step forward. ”we’ll see about laundry later. in the meantime… want to wear one of my shirts?”

the words have left his lips before he can think them through — maybe a little too eager. silently, he curses himself for being so forward. but you raise your head, meeting his amber eyes, blinking so sheepishly that he thinks he’d give you just about anything you could ask for.

”… is that okay?” 

”more than okay,” he reassures you, a smile on his face. ”i’ll get you something comfy.”

you quiet down, for a moment. still pulling at the collar of your shirt, making sure the thin fabric doesn’t stick to your soaked skin. ”… alright,” you exhale. ”that’d be great, then.”

a hum buzzes in his throat. suguru walks past you, towards the hallway leading up to his room, ruffling your wet hair in passing. his heavy palm on your head, a perfect fit. smiling to himself.

”got it. one second, okay?” 

behind him, you nod — but he can’t see it. walking into his room, rummaging through his closet, trying not to lose his mind at the idea of you wearing one of his oversized shirts. maybe a pair of sweatpants, maybe a tank top… he gulps at the thought. heartbeat accelerating, a jittery feeling in his throat.

he settles on a big, comfortable hoodie. bundling it up in his arms, before making his way back to where you’re still standing, still soaked, shivering a little. 

”here,” he hums, passing the bundle of soft fabric into your awaiting arms. you nuzzle into the pile, already looking comforted; warming his heart down to the marrow. he hopes you like the cologne he picked out, earthy and deep. a hint of cinnamon. ”now go take your shower, hm?”

”mm. thank you.” you give him a smile, cheeks still damp, a little flushed. ”you’re too nice to me.”

suguru resists the urge to frown. resists the urge to tell you that there’s no such thing, that you deserve every last drop of kindness he can wring out of his cramped-up heart. he knows he shouldn’t be too forward, but you’re making it difficult. you always make it so difficult.

(or maybe he’s just a weak, weak man.)

”oh, please,” he gives you a playful little roll of his eyes, sighing gravely. ”this is the bare minimum. we don’t want you catching a cold, do we?”

”we don’t,” you grin. ”i have a feeling you’d just end up feeding me soup all day.”

a chuckle flows from out his lips. he hopes it doesn’t come out as shaky as his heart feels, just at the thought — the idea of taking care of you like that. being allowed to tend to you, being trusted by you in that way. ”well, i am a chef. need to make sure i don’t get rusty, yeah?”

there it is, again. the crinkle of your eyes, that upturn of your lips, all things he finds himself constantly seeking — suguru exhales, somewhat in bliss. he might need to quit cigarettes for good, soon. it wouldn’t do for him to have more than one vice.

while you take your shower, your roommate lounges on the couch. or at least, he tries to — though his feet inevitably take him to your tiny kitchen, to the water cooker, to the cabinet with all his expensive tea bags. he picks out a nice, strong ginger brew. something to help boost your immune system. silently, drowsily, he pours water into a ceramic cup, stirs the slowly brewing tea with a honey-clad teaspoon. raindrops cascade against the window, and the faraway sound of thunder reaches his ears.

it’s cold outside, but warm and cozy in here. in the home you’ve made for yourselves. he’s really, really glad that he followed satoru’s advice — that he put out that advert, that the first person who reached out ended up being you. he’s happy to share a living space with you, these cozy leftover afternoons. he’s happy to have someone to brew tea for.

(what more could a man like him ask for?)

”um, suguru?”

he stiffens. ears perking up at the sound of your voice, that mellow little lilt — broken out of his syrupy stupor. after a moment, he turns around.

and his breath hitches in the back of his throat.

you’re standing there, right at the threshold separating the kitchen from the living room, hair a little damp from the shower — and you’re wearing his hoodie. it cascades down your frame, the hem of it ending right above your knees, sleeves rolled up to reveal your hands. that hoodie is baggy even on him, but you’re just drowning in the fabric. his heart feels like it’s about to burst, pupils wide as saucers.

suguru lets out a shaky sigh.

”jesus…”

a series of blinks. you tilt your head, like a confused puppy, glancing up at him with a doe-eyed look. fuck, he wants to bundle you up in his arms. he wants you to fall asleep on his chest, wants to keep you there forever. god, who thinks stuff like that?

(he needs to get a grip, and fast. he can already feel his ears growing hotter.)

”it looks… kind of ridiculous, doesn’t it?” you mumble, sheepishly, clouded with what he thinks must be shyness. cute. ”this isn’t really my size…”

suguru lets out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head, raven locks swaying with the movement. ”i can see that. looks good on you, though.”

”… does it?” you let your arms fall slack, at your sides, the softened fabric swallowing your hands entirely. he can’t even see the tips of your fingers. oh, how his heart aches — it’s squeezing so tightly he fears his chest might cave in, but all he can do is nod.

he turns around, again, absently clearing his throat. clinking the teaspoon against the rim of your cup, stirring idly. ”is it comfortable?”

”mhm!”

a warm smile. ”good.”

silently, you scoot closer, taking your rightful place beside him. resting your elbows on the counter, watching his movements, the flick of his long fingers. one of his rings catches on the ceramic, a quiet clang.

”here,” he hums, pushing the cup towards you. when you look up, his eyes are crinkled at the edges, warm and sweet, a melting pair of honeycombs. ”drink up.”

a moment passes. ”… you really are too sweet for your own good, you know that?” 

suguru grins. his heart blossoms a little more; petals sticking between the ridges of his ribs. it manifests as a delighted little chuckle, flowing out his throat.

”don’t thank me yet — there’s sushi for you in the fridge. they let us bring leftovers home again.”

”really? i can have some?”

suguru raises a brow. smiling, all the while. ”would i be offering otherwise?”

(you can have anything, he wants to say. i doubt i could say no. i’m a little weak, when it comes to you.

such embarrassing words.)

a heavy sigh escapes you, laced with relief. taking hold of the cup, raising it to your lips, sipping slowly. ”god, you’re the best. i’m starving.”

”haha… better eat, then, yeah?”

nod, nod. you give him another one of those giddy grins, putting your cup down, taking a step back. suguru can’t help but turn his head, to catch a glimpse of you — how cozy you look, waddling around in that big hoodie, hair a little tousled. humming softly to yourself, tapping the tips of your fingers against the handle of the fridge. it mashes well with the endless pitter patter against the windowpane. a purr of thunder echoes in the distance, and suguru feels at peace. hyacinths line the windowsill, the crinkle of a plastic container being rustled rings out across the room. he watches, listens, observes. wallowing in the feeling. 

domesticity. 

with a breathy, blissed-out exhale, his eyes fall shut. smile dripping with sweetness, barely contained. wishing on every single droplet that you’ll stick around a little longer than your lease allows.

”here,” you grin, stepping into his line of vision. handing him a plate full of sushi, all his favorite pieces. ”you eat up, too.”

suguru smiles.

”what would i do without you?”

(that’s a bridge he’ll worry about crossing another day.

for now, this is more than enough.)

[peachesofteal]

Simon with herding instinct on that physio snippet.... God what I'd do to be Reader (I'm not sick but I'm KO by my period, so I think I also deserve herding instincts and a cup of tea made by someone who is not me)

I think you deserve a little treat for your body torturing you Same reader as this (female reader)

"Fuck." You draw a deep breath through your nose and blow it out slowly, trying to push the pain away. You have a busy schedule today, and the 141 was expected to be back which meant you'd have the Lieutenant on your table at some point between now and twenty one hundred.

You do not have time for period pain.

Your appointments waltz in and out through the day, your focus turning from the stabbing, burning ache in your belly, quads and lower back, until the clock finally ticks down to nineteen hundred, and you slump over in your chair. A moment's reprieve, a second to get off your feet, exhaustion sinking into you, your longing for your bed and a heating pad stealing the whole of your attention. You can almost feel it, the hot shower, the comfort of your sheets, a cup of tea. Almost.

For now, you swallow more paracetamol and hope it lasts you through the rest of the day.

The door to the clinic swings open, and you don't need to peek outside the door of your office to know who it is.

No one has footsteps as heavy as his.

The Lieutenant.

The man you do not understand. The one who treated you like a small, fragile animal when you were sick, barging into your house and forcing you onto the couch, doling out medicine and hand feeding you warm broth. He pressed cold cloths to your forehead, held your hair and rubbed your back as you vomited.

The entire time you trembled with nerves, staring at the stitching of his balaclava, looking away each time his face turned towards yours. He hated you, why was he here?

Your fever broke, he disappeared. And the next time you saw him-

He went back to treating you just as he always did.

Coldly. Gruffly. Rudely.

Tonight would be no different.

So when you step outside and see him still in his full kit, arms folded across his chest, you wilt, already defeated, stomach tying itself in knots.

"Need m'back looked at." He barks and you fight the instinct to jump.

"Yeah, o-of course." The words are unsteady, you're unsteady, just like each time before, and he doesn't say anything else, just looks you up and down before brushing by you to get to the table.

He's the width of your workspace. Wingspan larger than should be humanly possible, width of his shoulders and back difficult to comprehend. He could tear you apart, if he wanted, so you've always treated him so carefully, staying focused, making sure you don't slip up and push his muscles too far or cause him pain. It's the same care you apply to all your patients, but with him, it's different. It's like diffusing a bomb.

His head is turned towards you as your fingers walk down the middle of his spine, working pressure points. Every time he twitches, or grunts, or even breathes deeply, you tense, but you keep your focus, kneading down to his sciatic nerve, pushing in deep, deep enough to make him groan, your heartbeat pulsing in your ears.

You don't even realize he's saying your name until he shifts on the table.

"S-sorry?" His eyes are locked the space between your legs, and you follow his sight line, gasping when you see what he sees.

Red.

Your standard issue khaki pants are stained dark red at your thighs.

"Oh my god. Oh my god, I'm sorry, I'm," you stumble backwards, hands flying to cover yourself, scrambling on how to get yourself out of the room and into the bathroom as quickly as possible. Your cheeks burn from humiliation. "I'm sorry, I uh- I'll be right back."

"Do you have another pair of pants?" He cocks his head.

I don't... I don't think so."

"Hmm." He continues to stare, and then, like he was having a conversation with himself, he swings off the table, reaching for the jacket he showed up in, before stalking towards you.

You stumble back, but you're too slow, and he catches you by your wrist, tugging you forward. You close your eyes. "Lieutenant-"

"Hush." The jacket goes around your waist, giant sleeves tied at your navel, the length of the hanging directly over where your pants are stained. You're not petite by any means, so the fact that this garment can even begin to cover you is a miracle in itself. But then again, he is massive. "Stay." He moves around the room, ducking into the other one with your desk, flicking the lights off, before grabbing the keys off the hook and shepherding you through the clinic to the front door.

"What... what're you doing?" There's a murderous look in his eye when he turns to you, and it freezes your blood.

"Takin' you home."

"I can get h-home myself." You hate the way your voice shakes.

"Covered in blood? You really want the entire base to see you like tha'?" The shame burns, and tears build on your waterline. "C'mon." His hand settles between your shoulder blades, essentially turning you into a ship with no sails, only a rudder at your back. Him.

He steers you into your house by your hips. You live directly off base, in civilian housing, luckiest of them all, if you're being honest, though in this moment, you're not sure you are so lucky.

"Leave your clothes in the sink." He orders when he lets you go, moving towards the kitchen.

"My clothes?"

"You know how to get bloodstains out of your clothes?"

"Oh, uh... n-no."

"Then..." he motions with his hands for your pants.

"Right now?" You squeak, and he nods.

"Now, pet." You fumble with the zipper and the button, hands trembling so bad you struggle with them. "Need help?"

"No! No... I got it." you get them down to your knees after a struggle, and then kick them off. Will he ask for your underwear too? He answers like he can ready your mind.

"Leave 'em on the bathroom floor. Shower, and then straight to bed."

"I'm not a child!" The protest is bold, boldest you've ever been with him, insecure, scared feelings coming forth in the outburst.

"Could've fooled me. Children need takin' care of, jus' like you." The words jam in your throat, stolen by the intensity of a cramp, and his eyes soften. "Go on up. I'll bring you somethin' for the pain, and some tea." There's no fight left in you, drained like the blood from your body, and your shoulders slump.

An hour later, in the dark, your door cracks. You're curled up in a ball, heating pad tucked against your pubic bone, buried beneath a mountain of blankets when the bed dips, the mass of the Lieutenant's weight settling next to your hip.

He sits you up, like a doll. Makes you take more paracetamol, finish a glass of water, and then pushes a hot tea in your hand.

By the time he's done, you slump back against the pillows, exhausted. Your eyelids go heavy, and he shifts you back to your side. You're too tired to argue with him, fight him, and when his fingers start applying counter pressure to your lower back, working through the tension, the tightness from your period, you let out a low moan. He chuckles. The man actually laughs.

"Why are you here?" You murmur in the dark, and he doesn't answer right away, sitting in the silence for too long.

And then-

"My mum always taught me to take care of my things."

[ladyoftheblades]

HEIR APPARENT

jacaerys velaryon x aegonstwin!reader

synopsis: the realm worships firstborns, seconborn children however, especially girls, need to make their own way in the world

words: 11k (bear with me)

a/n: i realised this after i finished and was too bored to correct it, imagine rhanenyra didnt have time to propose marrige beyween reader and jacaerys due to driftmark. ALSO i havent watched the dinner scene in 2 years and i cannot find it on the sites so excuse any unorthodoxy. ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE im also dyslexic :) !!!!! this was heavil inspired by the lovely @myladysapphire 's fic "seduction" which you should go read warnings: some gaslighting, dry humping, fingering, heavy petting, making out, intoxication

the birth of a child is a joyus occasion for any ordinary family, for the royal house targaryen ... not always.

it was a sunny summer day when the queen alicent went into labour, the sun shined its golden rays upon the keep making its redstone material even more beautifull. while the festivities of the tourney in the babes honor roared outside, the noise and cheers and laughter penetrated the keeps walls, filling the rooms with the joy of the celebration. all rooms but one.

alicent screamed and whrithed with the unimaginable pain of labour. viserys walked up the stairs with a newfound excitement, yet, as he reached the door of his wifes rooms he stopped. the weight of his pursuit of an heir, the one than killed his first wife hit him like an angry wave. cold sweat ran across his forhead. no, his beloved aemmas life was not in vain, rhaenyra would sit the throne, he rationalized. straightening his posture, he oppened the door.

every minute felt like eons for viserys. by the grace of the gods the babe arrived quickly. "a son, your grace" said the maester. music to viserys ears. a midwife handed him the swaddled babe. "welcome to the family aegon"said the king. enamoured by his son, it took a second before he heard his wife groaning again. "another babe !" exclaimed the maester. "another blessing" chimed in the midwife. and thus, a girl was born.

that was how the princess came into the world. a little surprise for her family. a little unwanted surprise.

as the princess grew up that was the word that defined her existance, unwanted. not abused,no, but she was not the first boy, not the heir, not even the spare. just another girl.

she came to understand her position very well, quiet and demure, refusing to cause any fuss around her existance for no one else did.

especially not her older sister rhaenyra. despite the little girls admiration for her, rhaenyra never spared her a second glance.she did not mistreat her younger sister by any means, just too busy being heir and having children of her own. she had no time for a child that was unwanted in the first place.

Her father on the other hand, downright ignored her. the excitement of having a son consumed him in those first years after their birth. there was no love left for her. soon, even that ran out and it was as if her and her brother never existed.

it did not matter though, she found solace in her other family. the queen alicent loved her daughter dearly, not absolved of ignoring her at times in favour of her brother, but it was ok, she did far more than any other. attached by the hip to aegon,they did everyting together, it was only natural, the realm viewed her as nothing but an extension of him anyway.

by the time her twelfth nameday came to be, it was widely accepted she would be married to her twin. though young she understood the implications of such a proposal. aegon, her fathers long awaited male heir, would be king and she his queen. the idea rooted in her mind. queen of the realm. the most influential woman of the seven kingdoms. it rooted and festered untill her rambition consumed her everymost descision. to her, it was only fair. all the attention she was denyed in her childhood would be atoned for. she would finaly get what she deserved.

the gods had other plans though. more like, otto hightower had other plans. rhaenyra proposed a betrothal between helaena, alicents secondborn and jacaerys her firstborn. to alicent it was an insult, one that had to be prevented by any means.

it was not difficult for otto to get the king to agree to marry helaena and aegon instead. to the king it made no difference, the affairs of his daughters whose name were not rhaenyra did not matter.

:readmore:

the news reached the princess on her way to driftmark for her aunt laenas funeral. ser otto hightower, upon the queens incistance, was tasked with breaking the news.

"that is not fair!" she shouted toward her grandsire, franticaly moving around, her erratic movements exaderated by those of the ship. "oh hush child, you know better than anyone nothing is promised in this life" he responded, calm, collected, slightly irritated.

"but i heard it, mother and lord larys, saying the marrige would sway the kind toward changing the succesion". Suddently otto rose from his seat. the princess was throwing a tantrum, a dangerous one. if word were to reach the king about their scheming to strip rhaenyra of her heritage, it could cost both his and his daughters heads. "now how did you hear such a thing?". the air had shifted, the calmnes in his voice replaced by more irritation and something new. fear, perhaps ?

"it... it matters not how i came upon the information it matters that i now know. so please explain to me why i ought to be cast aside in this way. i am a princess !"

"so is your sister. you love your sister, do you not?" "i do... but i was promided something and i plan to see it realised" diplomatic words for a child, otto thought.

"it does not matter though does it ? you understand rhaenyra is heir, yes ?" she nodded. "and your goal, as i understand, is to be queen, yes ?" he had now moved from where he was standing and was sitting next to her on the sette. she nodded again.

"you know of the favouritism your father shows rhaenyra, as he sees it she is his only child, therefore his only heir"

"but-but father wanted a son, he should be the heir" startled by ottos movements, her initial anger turned to silent disapointment, her little face pouting. "do not go around running your mouth saying such things" he responded hurriedly "you may be a princess but your neck is in as much danger as anyones" he turned to look into her eyes

"we understand the way things are, your father however is blinded by his grief. aegon is not heir, his wife will not be queen. you would not acquire the power you seek either way."

"i understand...".

Satisfied with himself for having stiffled his granddaughters tantrum, he turned away once again. "now you are free to take a husband of your choise, to seek love, is that not what all young maidens dream of ?" her pouting face remained. "love is nothing in the absence of power" otto chuckled, if only his daughter had shared that same mindset. the dragon was more hightower than he thought. "in what book did you read that now".

Before she could answer a knock sounded at the door. the queen entered, sir criston in toe. "we are to dock soon, return to your siblings at once little one" said alicent, somewhat taken aback by the sight of her dughter and father side by side. "yes your grace" said the little girl before quickly exiting.

alicent turned to her father. "i trust you were not corrupting her with any of your sheming" she stated, matter-of-factly. "trust me daughter, i did not need to... be more careful when speaking with the small council from now on, the walls have eyes in the red keep"

after docking the little princess was going through the motions of royal protocol as if possesed, certainly lacking the sort of queenly air shed carried herself with up untill that point. it no longer mattered. her dreams were shattered, all she ever wanted, all she ever hoped for, gone, in a single boat trip.

vaemond spoke yet none of his words reached her. she looked to her sister rhaenyra from across the procession. the vision of a queen, long silver hair braided in the fashions of the queen rhaenys. hugging her children close to her arms, arms meant to hold her.

no matter how much she attempted to push these feelings down, to pretend, her sisters indifference hurt, now more than ever. the longer she studied rhaenyra and the longer rhaenyra refused to spare her a single glance, she got more and more depressed. so much so she did not notice a pair of big brown eyes next to rhaenyra staring right at her.

after the procession was completed the guests started mingling, lords discussing deals, families exchanging condolances and such. as a princess of the realm she was excpected to offer her condolances to the family of the deceased, she walked forth to greet her cousins, baela and rhaena, the dragon twins. normally it would be a chance to excersise her queenly grace, now it was but another motion. "im sorry for your mother, my condolances." she spat out. "thank you, cousin" replied baela. rhaena was solemn, only looking at her shoes. her nephews standing next to her, she could not care less.

having fulfilled her duty she left without a word. no one would pay attention to the thorn of house targaryen anyway. and none did. except for those same brown eyes from earlier.

as she walked further and further away from the crowd she was greeted by the salty driftmark air. the rough cliffs and architecture were opposite of the red keeps. but it was a welcome change, the red keep was a place of lies and dissapointment.

eventually she reached a small nook amongs the salty castle walls. finally some respite. she sat on the ground and took a deep breath.silence. yet peace did not last long. soon footsteps sounded, coming toward her, untill they stopped.

she looked up. a young boy of dark eyes and darker hair. jacerys velaryon. the firstborn of her firstborn sister. his features struck her even more from up close. she knew the rumors. alicent spoke of them constantly when she thought she was not listening. she may have perpatuated some of them herself, on those bad days her sisters rejection particularly stung. she never thought of jacerys, never spoke to him, as far as she was concerned he was only an extension of her sister.

"what do you want ?" she spat courtly. "i dunno"replied jacaerys.

"its your aunts funeral you should be with your mother and siblings" "dont want to."

cautiously, he sat next to her. they stayed there a while, siletly staring at the wild waves ahead. it was...strangely comfortable. jacerys was born a few years after her and despite their both growing up in the red keep togerher, they rarely spoke. he knew nothing of his familys distaste for her, a stranger to the sins surrounding her name, ther girl doubted his mother spoke of her. to him she was practicaly a stranger.

after a while sitting in this comfortable silence, he dared speak up. "should we head back ?". "you should, i doubt anyone noted my absence"

"why ?" his voice rung with something unfamiliar to her, something akin to...concern. "you cannot note the absence of something you took no notice of in the first place" replied she solemnly. the emotion in her voice surprised even herself, something about this boy moved her. the princess did not like it. "i took notice, i mean, i followed you here" she felt his eyes on the side of her face yet did not dare return his gaze. "...thank you jacerys. why did you follow me ?"

"i thought you looked lonely" if shed turned her head sideways the princess would note him blushing. the comfortable silence returned.

prince jacerys knew not of this feeling bubbling in his chest. he had noticed his aunt during the funeral. he always took notice of her. walking around the keep, catching glimpses of her in the library after finishing her studies. his favourite part of training was gazing upon her form, framed by helaenas window, the yard had a perfect view. he always noticed her, always saw her, even when she looked elswere. his mother never bothered formally introducing them, rarely ever spoke of her. neither did his grandsire. he never went out of his way to greet her either, out of fear or nerves he did not know.

today was his window of opportunity. rhaenyra had sent him to comfort his cousins yet he could not take his mind off of his aunt. when she came and greeted baela, walking away right after, it was perfect. quickly, he dismissed himself and slipped away from everyone. the vision of her walking the tumoltous balconies of driftmark, silver hair blowing in the wind, she looked like a vision, calling him to her side. and now here he was.

neither of them knew how long they sat like that. they only knew of the feelings flowing between them. a strange sense of comfort. eventually though they had to return. she stood up first. "come on, we must head back, your mother is worried about you"

heading back they were greeted by no rhaenyra and no daemon. before jacerys could speak a word to the princess she vanished. he joined his cousins once again, they spoke to him yet he heard none of it, silently staring at the direction she dissapeared.

the princess awoke the next morning, having slept soundly that night, a certain strong face haunting her dreams. she arose from her bed and went to call for her handmaidens, yet stepping outside the room, no guard was present, confused and still foggy from sleep she put on a robe and began walking toward her good-sister helaenas room, not far from her own. stepping inside she found her sister blankly staring out of the window, not unusual for helaena. what was unusual was her complete unacnoledgment of her. cautiously she approached the window. "helaena, sister, what has happened ?" "he closed an eye.." her sister was always a bit odd, most brushed her strange words off, but the princess understood the importance of her strange visions

"helaena, please speak it to me plainly, who closed an eye ?" helaena tore her gaze from the scenery outside, vast uneasy brown eyes staring into her sisters

"aemond claimed vhagar late last night, lucerys took his eye in return"

years passed since that fateful night in driftmark. the night the house of the dragon official split in two. the two factions came to be known as the greens and the blacks.

she had grown, childhood long gone -if it ever existed-, now matured into a young woman. what never left was her feelings of betrayal. aegon and helaenas wedding took place not long after driftmark, and though she loved her sister deeply, jealousy ran deep. helaena was a fool who was handed an opportunity she could not comprehend. it took her some time to get over that day but she did, she had to.

despite ottos words on the boat, she knew better. after driftmark the greens scheming became more obvious. though she wasnt privy to all information, she knew their plans. stupid stupid otto hightower. he told her it did not matter, he told her all the things she wanted to hear, needed to hear. she hated herself for falling for his honeyed words. she was only a girl of two and ten but still. she ought to have known better. maybe, if she had put more pressure onto alicent she would have won. her resentment grew into a monster, wild and untameable, feeding on her want for the throne.

there was one other consequence of that day, she never got to see jacerys again. she never thought it would bother her before, but it did. that day, the words he spoke to her, his tone, the genuine concern laced in every sentance haunted her dreams. she dared not think about him while awake, fearful of what conclusions she may reach.

fate is funny in its ways. the uncertain parentage of rhaenyras children officialy came into question.

her sisters reckless behaviour came to bite her in the rear, the spoiled firstborn finally was to get a taste of consequences. not only that, the petitions for driftmark would require the entire family be present,including jacerys. not that she cared, no.

the view of dragons and ships approaching kings landing was perfect from the princesses window. syrax and caraxes landed near the dock, soon the family ship followed. the rest of the way they made by carrige. the lack of reception for the heir and her husband was the princesses own idea. a small revenge.

she dared not venture to the courtyard for she knew her nephews would be there. waiting instead to face them officially in the throne room.

not many are privy to the red keeps secret passageways, she was one of the lucky few. in order to avoid the courtyard she followed one such secret hall to cut through the godswood and immedietly into the throne room.

fate, as stated before, is very humorous.walking through the godswood she was greeted by her most favourite guest, rhaenyra. as her sister stood in the courtyard, for the first time in her life the princess saw her for what she was, a scared mother, a woman who knew she had a mess of her own making to clean up. there was no need for approval from such a pathetic creature.

"sister" greeted the young princess. rhaenyra turned to face her. "ah, dear sister, how are you fairing ?" dear, wow the gaul

"i am...well, it is nice of you to ask, even if for the first time." the sarcasm did not go unnoticed by rhaenyra. "times change sweet sister, attitudes are as moveable as the tides, especially within family" the tone those words were spoken in dripped with false sweetness, if it were another day she would have lapped it up, not today. today, she understood they came not from a genuine place but from a need of support.

"when family comes into question, the tides of opportunity roar, i see" surprised by her sisters words, rhaenyra stepped closer.

"i fear the circumstances of our reunion, of my arrival, are unfortunate, that does not mean we need be hostile to eachother" the younger scoffed

"the only times we reunite are under unfortunate circumatsnces. last we spoke i cannot remember, i actually cannot recall a time you struck up a conversation with me. only now, concerned with your sons succesion, when you require my help, we speak"

rhaenyra was surprised, more surprised than shed been in her life. she thought her relationship with her sister was what it had to be, what was required, the rift between their family was much vaster than shed realised.

"i am sorry for any pain i have caused you, please, let us discuss this in a manner befiting of family, i promise i am not what these people have told you" she reached for her sisters hand, immedietly the younger pulled away.

"these people are my family, more my family than you have ever been. do not worry sister i would not concern you with anything beneath what befits you. we need only talk if it concerns the crown.please, do not pretend to care for me as family again, ypur idifference hurts but false concern is a pain i cannot manage" rhaenyra opened her mouth to speak but could not find the words.

"goodbye, dear sister. i look forward to hearing your petition." and with those words she left, fighting the urge to turn back and look at the face of the one who hurt her the most every step of the way.

jacaerys stepped off the carrige and into the ground of the red keep with a goal, to see his aunt again. he had grown into a capable and gracious young man in their time apart. she haunted his thoughts and steps toward adulthood in a way he could not describe. it was not love, he atleast did not think so, more like a strange hunger to see her again.

it scared him to think about. why was this longing so deeply rooted in his chest ?

with lucerys by his side they stepped forward into the familiar courtyard. immediently he gazed upon that same window he knew he may catch a glipse of her in. yet no one was there. it was silly to think someone would. why was his mind like this ?

lucerys must have noticed his wandering glances, nudging his side. "what ?" replied jacaerys. "are you ill brother ?". he had never spoken a word to anyone, not about that day in driftmark, the events of that night far too heavy to bring up,certainly not of his confusing feelings for the princess.

"im fine lucerys, are you feeling well ? it is a difficult day we have ahead of us, for you most of all" "im fine."

he was not fine, but it was best not to press on. lucerys had to deal with his emotions on his own,as did he.

the throne room had not changed since last he visited. he and his family stood on one side while the other slowly filled with hightowers and green supporters.

suddently, there she was.

the princess targaryen. her blueish green gown only exagerated her beautyful fratures, long silver hair shining, adorned by intricate braids and golden jewlery. she looked like she hung the sun in the sky. his eyes were trained on her form, not moving an inch, commiting every detail to memory, afraid shed disapear again and take the light with her. and then, against all odds, she returned his gaze.

it was like seeing the deep blue waves of the ocean again after years in the desert. jacerys vlaryon, in all his glory. looking back at her. she dared not tear her eyes away from his familiar brown ones. they stood there, surrounded by people yet alone locked in time.

eventually, otto hightower announced the start of the pettitions, and jacerys had to tear his gaze away. it was not a bad thing though, it allowed the princess to study his features more closely. despite his dark brown locks and eyes there was something uniquely targaryen about the boy, fair skin and aqualine valyrian nose betraying his heritage. he looked like the carbon of his mother. it scared her, it scared her because his resemblance did not deter her emotions at all, if anything it made her heart soften toward her sister. no man should hold such power over her.

the petitions went on and on but she heard few words far and in between,eyes focused on her nephew. periodicaly he returned her gaze studying her with equal intensity, alternating between commiting her to memory and comforting his brother.

for the fist time in her life she allowed herself to think of him in detail. she imagined how he would look speaking to her, hearing his voice, changed by the years, matured, deep, rich, manly. she though of his and when she tired she thought of them together. strolling through the gardens, flying on their dragons, sitting together... waking up next to him, walking the altar toward him.

and for the fist time it hit her.

all these years and yet her father had not changed his mind about the succesion once. not once did his resolve to put rhaenyra on the throne falter. aegon would never be king, helaena never queen, so long as the current kings will persevered. but it did not have to signal the end of her queenly ambition. jacaerys was rhaenyras firstborn, her first son and therefore heir. as far as the princess knew, he was unmarried and yet to be betrothed to anyone.

the window of opportunity so violently closed by otto on their was to driftmark suddently was wide open again. she could marry jacaerys and finally be queen, finally get what she wanted. ofcourse it would mean she would have to support her sister. every end had its means. so be it.

making up with her sister would be difficult, yet something about their conversation earlier told her it might not be impossible. the answer to her ambitions was infront of her all these years, jacaerys was the key.

euphoria filled her limbs making her mind hazy. floating on a bed of feathers, gears already turning in her mind paving the path that would lead her to jacarys. but good things never last.

princess rhaenys was speaking her peace when suddently

"the princess rhaenyra has informed me of her intentions to wed her son jacaerys and lucerys, to my granddaughters baela and rhaena, a proposad to which i wholeheartedly agree."

what. what. jacaerys and ... baela. she looked upon the ceiling of the throne room as if seeking the heavens, vying for the attention of the seven, whty did fate punish her so ?. ofcourse, why would she get what she wanted ?

she looked toward baela, a look of confidence and satisfaction gracing her features, eyes trained on jacaerys. she dared not look at him, she wanted not to know how he felt of this arrangement.

did he know ? had he agreed to it beforehand ? she could have sworn those looks he gave her earlier meant something. but this was now more than just her feeling toward him. this was about her gtting what she wanted, getting her throne.

jacaerys and baela ? no, that would not do. she was no longer that wide eyed girl, easily dettered by words of her elders, easily manipulated into complying with others wishes. one betrothal was torn away from her, not again. she would wed jacaerys she decited then and there, using any means necessary.

jacaerys heard his grandmothers words the same as his aunt. he was somewhat aware of their plans to betroth him to baela, but hearing them, actually hearing them, spoken in the presance of the king, it was another thing entirely.

he briefly looked to baela. she seemed very content with the arrangemend. the same could not be said about him. his aunt had been the sole person to hold his affections thus far. as much affection as a stranger across the bay could, atleast.

why was he so dissapointed ? was he even dissapointed ? did he really think there was any merrit to his feelings for the princess ? they shared one conversation all those years ago. whereas he and baela had a solid relatioship, a friendship, one that could be built upon. hed thought about the betrothal in the past, he could find some semblances of feeling in his heart for his cousin.

yet everytime hed thought of baela, another crossed his mind.

no, that would not do. his aunt was beautifull, yes, maybe it was just that, her beauty that bewitched him, the air of mystery around her. it was pointless to assign any meaning to it, he descited. he was a prince of the realm. he would preform his duty to baela and to his mother as best he could. childish fancy would have to be put to sleep.

a targaryen event without atleast one murder is considered a dull afair. thankfully they had daemon to provide entertainment.

the king had once again shamelessly supported his firstborn. for a rotting corpse, he sure was determined. the death of vaemond velarion signaled the end of the pettitions. lucerys would inherit driftmark along with his cousin rhaena.

rhaenyra would inherit the throne and in turn jacarys along with baela. not if she had a say.

with the first lord to step foot outside of the throne room her plan was set into motion. the alegiance between the blacks and the velaryons was strong, but not unbreakable. her sister was an honorable woman, a good mother, but a less than conscious politician. logic and aliances would not sway her, love however would.

the princess knew rhaenyra would reside in her chambers untill the family dinner planned for that night. a little snooping, more like a little talk with her ladies maid, told her daemon would join his old friends in the gold cloaks for the afternoon. after their talk, the princess and her handmaiden were to each take their leave. "oh, alia, i requre your help with one more thing" the maid turned "anything for you m'lady"

"i need you to place a rumor.."

with no warning, no knock, the young princess stepped into her sisters chambers. to say rhaenyra was surprised was an understatement.

"sister, what- what brings you here ?" the younger stepped further into the room. "i understand our talk earlier was not to your liking" she began, looking to her sisters eyes graced by an unreadable excpression.

"well, you made your wishes clear, i thought you would not wish to see me unless it was necessary. it gladens me you here though, please, take a seat" ever so polite. the sisters sat across from eachother on the chambers table, for the first time together of their own volition.

"do not misunderstand me, i would not have come here unless it was of the utmost urgency. as it stands matters of the crown plague me" rhaenyra looked concerned, what matters could the crown possibly have than were not directly concerning her ?

rhaenyra remained quiet, waiting to for the younger to show her hand before she revealed hers. "i heard today the proposal you offered princess rhaenys, to be frank, it is foolish." rhaenyra was yet to understand the road her sister was going down on, she remained quiet.

"keeping aliances strong is of upmost importance if you wish to secure your claim, however quality cannot completely trump quantity..."

"what are you saying, sister ?" sister finally,without the dear, bold. yet the younger remained quiet, pouring herself a cup of the wine placed upon the table. she was bold but her plan bolder, it required taming of the nerves. the longer the silence stretched on the uneasier the elder became.

"what do you want ?' asked rhaenyra finally.

"i want what you want, what we all want" rhaenyra understood finally.

"you wish to sit the iron throne then ? is it the reason behind your questioning my alliances ?" she grew irritated of the youngers antics, tired of the years being used soely for her birthright, her confusion twisting now into anger.

"you would think so, but no" she took a big swig of her wine "i want a family, my family, united. you saw the lords today, you saw my grandsire. you may think fathers support is sufficient, but he will to be around for long. there will come a time, sooner than latter, when you will be without your biggest ally, and the house of the dragon will be torn apart once and for all"

rhaenyra shook her head "i am the rightfull heir, the lords of the realm know who they swore an oath to. i have no need of you false concern."

"attitides are as moveable as the tides, the lords will rally behind whomever they believe benefits them most, oaths be damned. our family will be in shambles, you must prevent that, we must prevent that" she moved now, a mix of wine and sudden confidence moving her legs from her initial seat to the one next to her sister.

"wed me to jacaerys" rhaenyras confusion returned. she poured herself a cup and downed it in one go. "and why would i do that ? your void threats ?" "i can support you and your efforts best. rhaenyra looked toward the fireplace, turning her body opposite of her sisters. "moonfyre is a formidable dragon, and my mother may yet be swayed if we work together"

"i tried once, to ally myself with the green counsil, they refused. besides , it will be an insult to the house velaryon, an insult to my daughter."

"i am not the green counsil, i am your sister." mirroring rhaenyras earlier movements in the godswood, she took her sisters hands into hers. only unlike earlier, her sister did not move. "i know you have cast me aside, since i first came into the world. yet as a girl i wished every night with every prayer for you to see me, finally see me." rhaenyras eyes as if possesed found her own. an understanding started to bloom.

"i have longed to be by both you and jacaerys from afar all these years, let us not be enemies, do justice by our targaryen name. if not for an aliance for all you feel toward me as you sister. i have thought of everything, you need only say yes."

rhanyra ture her gaze and hands away once again, pouring them both another cup of wine, hoping her eyes would not betray her inner conflict. the sisters took their respective cups, drinking in silence.

"i knew not of these.. feelings you describe and for that im sorry." rhaenyra dared speak up. "i cannot give you the yes you seek but if truly your plans are as solid as you describe them, i have no way of stopping you" not a victory but not a defeat. "thank you, dear sister"

rumors have a way of spreading in the red keep. a phenomenon unlike any other. you could take your carridge for a visit to the great sept a maiden and return a whore. what a sinnfull and dishonorable thing. but what a usefull one to those who know to utilise it.

the queen alicent was enjoying a quiet evening after the very eventfull petitions. helaena on her left, embroidering a spider on one of the childrens tunics, said children on the floor playing with their toys, and her, reading "seven histories of seven prayers" all was at peace.

alicent finished her book and made a moved to acqure another, the library was near, she could go and be back in less than a feather sweep. excusing herself from the company of her family, she moved to do just that. the halls of the keep were never to the queens liking, much prefering those of her home, alas she navigated them, low sound of chatter radiating off of each room. gossiping was a sin, one the queen refused to indulge in but the day had other plans.

passing through her eldest daughters chambers she caught wind of words that shocked her. cautiously she moved closer to the door, hoping her ears were playing tricks.

"i mean can you believe it ? what a sandal, our princess and rhaenyras son ? oh the insult" said one of her daughters ladysmaids "alia, i am yet to understand, how could our lady fraternise with that family, they have not seen them in years" replied another "im not saying now, maya, back then, at driftmark"

"i heard it was the reason for the princes fight, prince aemond attacked jacarys for dishonoring his sister, thats how he lost his eye" replied another.

"and what of todays betrothal ? the queen would never allow such dishonor befall her daughter" "thats the fun part maya, the queen knows none of it, as for the princess baela, she has recently received proposals from the north, house tully and house stark, however, princess rhaenyra forced her hand to prevent herself allying with the greens" replied the voice of alia.

"i believe none of it, how could you come upon such information ?"replied the unnamed voice again "the cook, told me he overheard an exchange between the young prince and his betrothed.."

the queen stepped back, her breathing laboured. they were way off mark for driftmark, that was certain. but what if there was truth behind their words ? it would not be unheard of. most rumors around the keep stemmed from some truth

still, the queen had faith in her daughter. aegon was a rake, sure, but he inherited all of the rebelion in the woumb, her daughter was as pure as freshly fallen snow. seeking lord larys council would be an option but the queen feared what he would ask for in return. no. she was no fool, she would seek for herself the truth.

the dinner was an idiotic idea. alas, the head that defies the king does not stay attatched to its body for long. the young princess sat at the head of the table along with aemond, already nursing her third cup of wine. it burned going down but not more than her mothers gaze did. she knew.

her mothers gaze threatened to melt her face off but it was not what hurt most. jacaerys and baela sat next to eachother, exchanging laughs and pleasantries. if the wine did not cause her to vomit, they would. just a little bit longer, a little more patience, she would get jacaerys and the throne and baela the door.

the night went on oddly calmly. until the speeches began.

king viserrys took the lead. "we have a cause of celebration it seems. jace and luke will be married to their cousins,baela and rhaena, further strengthening the bond between our houses"

if the princesses eyes rolled any further back into her head she would see her brain. she looked to jacaerys, his eyes on her, only to immedietly be torn away once she looked back.

the king continued with his heartfelt speech, somewhere among the words of uniting the house of the dragon, rhaenyra and her sister locked eyes, the understanding between them having bloomed into a garden. her fathers worlds were certainly the missing piece to convincing rhaenyra of the betrothal.

rhaenyra took her turn followed by alicent, heartfelt words betraying the affections the two still shared. jacaerys was next. despite him talking about aegon and aemond his eyes fell on her periodically, never too long though. as if looking at her too long would turn him to stone. his fear was evident, but was it brought about by alicents menacing stare, or .... his own emotions ?

it was better not to mangle matters of the heart with those of the crown, she had to remind herself, despite her chest thumping with every glance. helaena gave her speech, toasting the happy couple yet again. her words on marrige brought about a sense of uneasines to everyone. rhaena, bless her heart, made an attempt to mend the situation "it leaves you, cousin. have you any suitors ?".

rhaenyra tensed, alicent even more so but most of all jacaerys. his stiffness caused baelas concern, who nudged him lightly. her movement laboured no reaction from the prince, she turned instead to find the object of his gaze, none other than his aunt.

"n-no, not of yet im afraid..." she gave her best semblance of a calm reply. rhaenyra, feeling bad and still mindfull of their earlier conversations, took the liberty of replying "it is best not to worry about these things, you may yet find your affection in unlikely places"

alicent gave a blank stare, she moved her mouth to speak but was interrupted, by none other than daemon. "best not to wait though, my dear, a young lady may fall to her charms only for so long..." his words earned him hateful looks and one of firm diaproval from his wife. his eyes however, gleamed playfully, ever the provocatour. daemon knew.

she could not hold back her emotions if she wanted. opting to give a small, sad smile, for an answer would surely betray her tears. she looked to jacaerys. this time his eyes unapologeticaly on her, looking to her form with raw pitty. helaena took her hand and aemond gave her a small pat on the arm. alicents anger was on the brink of overflowing.

before the queens wrath could be unleashed upon demon, the king groaned in pain, immedietly he was escorted away by the guards. the family was left in shambles, once again. yet the evening was far from over. rhaenyra ordered for music to be played, more courses arriving at the table. the princess cared for none of it, the plan was working, yet daemons words stung all the same.

a hand appeared next to her, asking to dance. looking up to find the owner, she found none other than jacaerys velaryon. she stood up quickly, ignoring her mothers gaze, taking it into hers.

the unwanted child of house targaryen, she was unused to being shown attention, most of all the sole attention of her beloved. a familiar melody sounded in the backround, years of observing others on the dancefloor yet never joining left her entirely unprepared for the dance that was to come. jacaerys noticed her nerves.

"do you know the stepps ?" she shook her head no. the reaction brought a smile to his face, genuine and warm. "not to worry, it is not a difficult one, you only need a capable lead"

arriving finally to the dancefloor, the music picked up. jacaerys hands led her to stand infront of him. since he noticed her uneasined, his eyes had not left hers once.

he began the dance, jumping left and right, she soon joined his pace. it felt like ascending the skies on her dragon for the first time, each little jump leading her further and furhter away from the ground, away from the drama of her house and into the heavens.

his pace changed, stepping forth to take her hand into his. the toutch was electrifying, gentle yet firm, he brought their joined hands to eye level, gaze forever steady on her form, like the eternal rocks beneath the tumoltous sea, somewhat grounding her. they began to turn around eachother. slowly at first, he began to hasten his turns, having now to hold on tighter, keeping eachother in orbit.

jace took a step back moving their joint limbs above her head, intending to spin her around herself, his other hand gently on her waist, as to keep her steady. the wine was taking effect for before she could turn to face him again she stumbled, slightly falling forward, straight into his arms.

he did not let her fall however, the hand on her waist immedietly snaking around her fully, the one above her head going to hold the side of her face, preventing it from coliding with his. by the time she gained her balance, the position between them was highly innapropriate. the warmth of his hand on her cheeck made all skin receptors go haywire. his lips had slightly parted and she could feel his breath on her own, if she leaned a little forward she could even....

"THAT IS ENOUGH !" queen alicents booming voice sounded. their moment of tenderness so rudely interrupted, the princess pulled away from her nephew, he complied, taking a half-step back, his hand previously on her waist however moved to hold hers once again.

" do you take me for a fool ? sharing words of support and love to my family, while your son has corrupted my sweet daughter, laughing now in our faces, i will have it no longer !"

everyone was shocked, rhaenyra held onto her husband, who moved to stand up, aegon and aemond shared a look equal parts amusement and comradery, while rhaena and lucerys held hands. the only one to keep his composure was the queens father. ooto knew. baelas legs were bouncing up and down furiously. everyone was in dissaray.

"what are you implying your grace ?"sounded daemon full of rage and malice. "i am implying nothing i am up and stating it since your family is playing the fool. your son has corrupted my daughter tainted her virtue and has now come to flaunt his debauchery infront of everyone! " jacaerys remained quiet, his hand unmoving.

like fish to bait, the princess thought. she anticipated the queens reaction, what surprised her was how public it was. a new variable. no matter, she had come this far, no way in the seven hells would she quit now. her eyes searched for and found rhaenyras, her beautifull face painted one sentance, i hope you know what youre doing.

"daughter, please regain your composure." otto attempted to calm his queens nerves. one public outburst escaping the family was bad, two would be ruinous. rhaenyras eyes remained locked with her sisters, the two communicating simply from eye contact. the younger sent a pleading look. not wishing to anihilate the little pieces of reconciliation the dinner had acheived, the heir sprung into action.

"please, your grace, it has been an eventfull evening, let us not end the night in animosity. the hour is late, we ought to all retire and discuss this with the light of the new day." daemon went to express his rage his atempted outburst swiftly sqashed by rhaenyra holding his arm. lucerys and rhaena immedietly stood up, followed by helaena, exiting at once, not wishing to partake in the conflict.

alicent attempted to voice her dissagreement, rage and adrenaline pulsing in her veins, but could not, the hand of her sworn shield along with her fathers stern gaze bringing her to reality.

aemond stood, approaching the still-frozen couple. his imposing frame cornered that of jacaerys "carefull nephew, should i find any truth to these accusations, i will ensure you pay the price this time" and with that, he pulled his sister away. she turned to look to her beloved, for the final time time of the evening, their eyes locked, a silent promise to speak again.

the events of the night were all blurry in the young princes head. whithin less than a day he reunited with his aunt, was btrothed to baela, descited to put aside his feelings for his aunt, witnessed a beheading, had his feelings for his aunt reignited and was now accused of deflowering her.

after she was so rudely torn away from him, the prince was faced with the fury of his betrothed. baelas face twisted in a way he had only previously seen on daemon, it petrified him. "is it true ?" asked the girl. "what ? i dont-"

"it is a simple question jacaerys, are alicents words true ?" "ofcourse not ! i would never do such a thing" tension was rising with each exchange of words "what was this buisness today then ?" "the princess fell, what was i to do ? allow her to fall ?"

"she is the enemy jace, you cannot trust these people" the words coming out of baelas mouth filled him with rage never before experienced "the enemy ? are you being serious ? you know nothing about the princess-" "neither do you."

they were almost yelling, daemon started to advance toward them. afraid of his stepfather he attempted to deescelate the situation."i do apologise for any discomfort i have caused you, baela, but i will not stand to hear such nonsense."

baela scoffed "if you are unable to see past the intentions of those who only mean to use you, i hold in my heart not discomfort but pity for you, my prince. goodnight. " and with that, she exited. by this time deamon hat taken the place of his daughter "come, we have much to discuss" looking behind him one final time to see his mother and queen alicent speaking quietly, he followed his stepfather.

they walked the halls of the keep solemnly, daemons calm demeanor betrayed none of his emotions, it only irritated jacaerys more and more as time went on. each torturous step made his mind race, from the dance to the fight to the princess to her hands to his betrothed to daemon to his aunt again, her lips, her smile, her body against his... it all was far too overwhelming.

the salvation from his torture came with their arival at his chambers. "come" daemon instructed, oppening the door, he could only follow instructions with the reverance of a septon executing the gods will, afraid of arousing his uncles rage. "sit" he sat, his uncle soon occupying the chair next to him.

"so, did you do it ?"

if one more person asked him that question jace swore he would throw himself from the tallest window of the keep. "no, i would never" daemon chuckled. "tis alright boy, the flame of youth roars with unparalleled passion, in this family especially, i would not have blamed you if you had." jace swallowed, a weight lifted from his chest.

"alas what i believe matters not, only what the queen does and as it stands, she thinks you deflowered her most favourite daughter. how do you plan to answer these accusations ?"

"i.....i do not know. i would not go back on my promise to baela sir. i swear it" daemons hand reached his sons shoulder. "i know. worry not about baela. we must understand what possesed the greens to spread such a rumor, they are coming for your inheritance boy, the same as your mothers."

heavens give me strength, the young prince thought. "with all due respect, you know nothing of who spread such a rumor. the princess would never soil her reputation in such a way. "

"damn right she would not, the princess is far from cunning enough" jacaeys hands turned to fists "it is certainly the work of her grandsire" he had had enough. "you only see the events of today as an excuse to express your violence"

"such are the tactics of war. we can not be seen as weak at this time, jace. they mean to take yours and your mothers birthright, to start the war and tear our forces apart-"

"i see finally, you care not for me nor baela, only for supporting the efforts of a war yet to materialise, if it even is to materialise. you only seek glory for yourself- " "myself ?" daemon interrupted "all i do, i do in support of you and your mother"

"then allow us to counsil my mother before you jump straight to actions which might soil her name" daemon gave no answer. his wife was his weakness, jacaerys knew it very well. and though he was prone to brash violet actions, he did so in servitude of his family.

daemon stood up sudently, still not having said a word. the young prince knew he had not quelled his bloodlust but the seeds of doubt planted in his mind would keep him occupied long enough. and so daemon exited.

before jacaerys was allowed a moment of respite, not a few seconds after his fathers exit, the painting near his window opened from behind.

emerging from the shadows, none other than the princess. jacaerys was left speechless, the night kept becoming stranger and stranger. "what-the...what, h-how did you get here ?" he chocked out.

"i found a sort of map of the red keeps passageways when i was young. one of them leads from my chambers to these" replied the princess shyly. "have i disturbed you....i should leave, my apologies-"

"no !" exclaimed jacaerys. the day had taken a toll on him, daemon and baelas words giving him a lot to proces. one thing had not changed though, he still longed to see her.

turning around from her attempt to exit, the princesses face became illuminated by the candelight showcasing her hopefull expression. a beat of silence pased, neither one of them knowing how to approach the other. the princess stepped forward, fully entering the room.

he could now see her dress in detail, a pure white nightgown, flowing gently, encasing her form. she looked like an angel sent from the heavens.

"my mother is very protective of me, you must excuse her earlier actions, she only meant to do good. i-i came to apologise for what went down at dinner" by now she was standing but a step away from him. the prince remained frozen, afraid if he let his body move, he would no longer remain a gentleman.

his silence caused the princesses face to fall slightly a disapointed expression threatening to take over, the same one from earlier that night. he wished not to ever see her that way ever again "is that all you came here to do ?" he spoke up at last.

a small smile played at the side of her mouth "if i may excpress myself freely, my lord ?" the pang of excpectancy in his chest rattled his body "jace, and please do."

"jace" she began, the familiarity of the petname causing him to grow bolder. "i must say, though these rumours are heinous i- i was ashamed not of my soiled reputation, but for the fact they included you" the woman infront of him was a witch, jace descited, she was bewitching him with every word from her soft lips, and he was oh so willing to fall for her spell.

"truth be told i have not forgotten of the time we shared at driftmark, it may seem silly but since that day, i have longed to see you again."she continued "i know not of love ...or lust but these feelings lay in my chest for so long i fear they may drown me"

her eyes looked to his through her lashes, longing, excpecting. once again he was left without words. "jace ? you instructed me to speak freely, have i made you uncomfortable ?" her hand flew forward from her side, softly brushing his knuckles, sending chills to his body, threatening to take his hand into her own but hesitating.

"are, are you cross at me because of the rumors ?" the last bits of his composure were starting to crumble, egged on by both her words and feathelike toutches.

"i could never. i would never hold over you something you have no control over" he replied, unable to take her teasing toutches any longer, taking his hand away in favour of toutching her elbow bringing her closer, so much closer, her other hand flew to toutch his chest.

mirroring his actions at the diner, he placed his hand upon her cheek. "oh, im so glad" she said in a breathless whisper.

"you had no play in spreading the rumors, yes ?" her mouth oppened and closed, eyes and body growing uneasy "y-yes, how could i do something like that ? to you of all people" jace sucked in a hurried breath, cursing himself for almost ruining the moment.

he brought her closer, hand moving once again from elbow to back, possesive and supportive. his thumb began to caress her cheek, seeking retribution for his previous words. "ofcourse, ofcourse, you spilled your heart to me and i have gone and accused you."

"no, i understand." their faces were now only centimeters away, heavy breaths in tandem with eachother "there are many forces at play intending to keep us apart" jace continued. the words of daemon now but a whisper in his head, caution having flown from the window the moment she toutched him.

"do you give them any thought ?"

"i could not if i wanted to. you say you have longed for me since driftmark, my longing dates even further back. this force is pulling me toward you like the morning pulls the sun from its hiding and i fear if you were to be taken from me now, i would never see the light again"

and with that the water tipped over, his lips clashed against her. all the emotions pent up over the years releasing in a dance of mouths and tongue. her hands flew to his his hair, trying to express all of the things words could not.

slowly the princes pushed her leg between his, casuing him to step back, slowly tracing a path toward the bed. when he felt the foot of the bed on the back of his knees, he did not hesitate, hands snaking to her thigh, he lifted her slightly and fell back, ever so carefull to not hurt her or to break the kiss.

her nightgown did little to hide her form, now slowly falling off her shoulder, exposing her chest. his mouth left hers for the first time, only to trace a path down her neck. her hands pushing his face further into her, hungry for more.

his hands on her thighs moved further and further up, skirts riding up with them. her core now bare on his trousers, right where he needed her most, soft skin brushing up against hard fabric, sending pleasured pulses to both her bodies.

she started moving her hips shyly back and forth, head falling back, the mewls escaping her lips music to his ears. by now the arousal in his pants was evident, the friction from her movements doing little to aleviate his tension.

desperation was fogging his mind, movements going from passinate to hungry. sloppy open-mouthed kisses on her neck moving lower and lower, a silent prayer of devotion on her breast, all he could think hear and feel was her.

lost in eachother and the new sensations, they hearn naught og the comotion outside the rooms door.

without warning rhaenyra acompanied by the queen entered the room. the lovers were caught, once and for all, now bound together by duty. alicent began her scolding, rhaenyra agreeing with her and joining. jacaerys took no time in taking a protective stance, shielding the princesses face in his shoulder, raising her nightgown back on her shoulder, trying to maintain whatever semblance of was left to her name.

the princess awoke, in her own chambers sadly, the events of last night still ringing in her head. she could still feel the heat of jaces body on her face, waist and lower... she knew she ought to be ashamed, to order a carridge to the sept straight away and beg on her knees for forgiveness. yet she found no desire to do do.

satifaction filled her lungs with every breath. after alicent and rhaenyra had caught them, jace was dragged away by his mother, yet he accepted the consequences with a stiff lip and an air of pride. alicent still was clinging to her daughters innocence, refusing to accept the situation as anything but her poor daughter being manipulated.

when aemond heard of the news he attemptet to take some form of retribution, going as far as to propose a duel with jace in her honor. aegon had never looked so amused in his life, he only congradulated his twin saying "atleast you sampled the mount before you commited". her grandsire was, once again, the most composed figure of the evening, out of satisfaction of securing his blood on the throne, she thought. helaena had yet to learn of anything.

they had barely goten any sleep, counseling all night in search of an answer to the situation. only one was viable. after the green and black council debated, a clear course of action was set.

given the fact there was no chance of the princess being with child, they would release a statement announcing the betrothal of the crown prince jacaerys to the secondborn daughter of the king, reuniting the realm stated as the reason. the date of the wedding would be set in thee moons time, as not to arouse any suspicion. as for princess baela, negotiations for herbetrothal to lord cregan stark were already underway.

she walked to her vanity, lazily brushing her hair. the smile on the woman in the mirror looking back at her she had not seen in years. each movement of her wrist was excecuted with queenly grace. life had meaning once again.

she stayed there a while, pampering herself for she was a victor, when a certain tapestry on her wall came out of place.

in stepped none other than jacaerys velaryon. jace. her jace. her future husband.

"jace" she said, standing up. "you look... satisfied" began the prince, all shyness from the night before gone. "should i not be ?" teased she. jace remained silent, somewhat sullen, looking to her form, the morning light revealing to him just how transparent her nightgown was.

"i spoke with my mother last night, she revealed to me some new information" the princess tensed, afraid she was caught in her lies, afraid all of her effort was for naught. his composure as he advanced toward her did nothing to sooth her nerves. he began to circle her form, patiently awaiting an answer. "wh-what would that be, my prince ?"

he stopped behind her. was it the formality of the title that caused his pause ? or was it anger ? "she said, you wenr to her yesterday to plead your case for our betrothal. she said you almost begged, to be perscise"

he had not corrected her calling him her prince, leading her to the natural conclusion he was angry. "i-i apologise for not making you aware of such a fact last night. i hadnt the time to you see..." she craned her face back to look at him. begging with her eyes for some sort of reaction.

he looked down to her, something dark behind his brown eyes. "how do you explain such an action ?" he said, voice low and grainy.

there was little room of escape. she had to play her hand just right. "as i said, i hadnt the time to fully explain myself to you. it is true, i looked to rhaenyra to ask for your hand and.... the rumors were really not the reason but the excuse for my actions. i meant to... approach you, from before" he remained silent.

she made an attemt to turn around and face him, only to be prevented by his pressing himself to her back. "baela is of the oppinion wish to use me. both her and daemon said you mean to steal my mothers throne, to take from me what you want only to betray me. tell me it is not true." finally his true colors came to light. the darkness in his eyes was not born of malice but of desperation, of fear.

"please, you most not misunderstand my actions, i only meant to be with you, i have not lied, i woud never. my family knew nothing of it. i understand how this must come across but please, believe me, you must." her joice unashamedly betrayed her desperation to please him, he remained silent still only holding onto her tighter.

"what must i do to make you believe me ? i will beg on my knees if it please you just trust me..." his body relaxed just slightly, hands remaining on her stomach, clinging to her dress. he gave a long exhale.

"i believe you" it was her turn to sigh, runing her hands on his arms tracing lines over his toned forearms. "i believe, you are a cunning spider, who pounced on the opportunity to claim me for yourself." his hand ascended her stomach reaching the space just under her chest, playing with the ribbon tying adorning her gown. "i also believe your intelect to be so infatuating i cannot help but want you more..."

he pulled the end of the ribbon, her dres becoming looser. "tell the truth, did you stop to consider the possible consequences of your reckless actions once ?" his hand went higher, unbuttoning the top of her dress, torturously slow.

"i only thought of you, every step of the way." he continued his pursuit of unbuttoning her gown. "does this mean you accept my apology ?"

"yes my darling, you need beg no longer... besides, i would much prefer to see you on your knees for other purposes" with that, he spun her around, putting their lips together once again. only this time the kiss was less passionate and more possesive. they knew they were bound together forever.

her gown was barely hanging onto her body, jace shruged the sleeves off her shoulders, the gown pooling on her feet. he took a step back, breaking the kiss to look at her. look at her whole. he drank in the sight of her body like the sweetest of wines. "perfect" he muttered under his breath, but before the princess had a chance to reply, he took her into his arms, mouths clashing once again.

effortlessly he carried her to the bed, gently placing her head on the pillows, climbing on soon after. her hands reached to toutch his chest, tugging on his tunic, begging to have it removed. he complied, hastily unbuttoning it. the morning light illuminated his porcelain skin, showcasing his toned arms and chest.

his mouth descended upon her, continuing his previous actions. one leg on her side, the other nudged her legs apart, knee pressing onto her core. she moaned upon the contact earning a chuckle from jace. "you, are magnificent" he said innetween kisses. "my cunning girl"

the fabric on his knee got wetter by the second, dampness reaching the skin underneath. his hand traced a path from her side down to her navel, to her pelvis, finally to where she needed him most. he began his ministrations on her pearl, tracing slow circles, each one sending waves of ecstasy along her body, they reached her throat leading her to release a pleasured moan. "please keep quiet darling, i would hate to be interrupted yet again"

his fingers on her core went lower, seperating her slit, pressing onto her. "wh-what-" she whispered, trying desperately to hold back her moans "shhh, worry not my dear, i only mean to please"

"all i do, i do to please you, my love" with that his fingers penetrated her. sensing her incoming moan, jaces hand flew to her mouth, muffling her sounds, only for him to hear. his fingers began to move, setting a slow rythm, allowing her to get used to the foreign sensation.

it was as if he had studied her body for years, the reverance with which he treated her left a burning sensation in both her heart and core. he continued, slowly picking up his pace, settling into a new rythm, his thumb took to restarting the ministrations on her pearl. she felt a knot forming in her stomach, tesion on her chest becoming more and more and more...untill she felt she could go on no longer.

"j-jace..." she chocked out, "i know, i know darling..." he placed a tender kiss upon her forhead, "let go, its ok..." with that, the tension in her stomach exploded, pleasure enveloping her body, settling into her limbs. "thats my girl.."

how long she spent lost in the throws of ecstasy, she knew not, a fog of pleasure clouding her mind, leaving her to think only of jace. once she started to come out of it a bit, he slowly removed his fingers, earning him a whine at the loss of contact. he only chuckled.

she went to remove her lovers trousers but he prevented her movements, taking her hands and giving each of them a kiss instead.

"allow us to keep something to look forward to on the wedding night." he said, positioning himself next to her on the bed, placing her head to his chest, playing with her long silver hair. they stayed like that a while, simply enjoying the company of one another.

the princess spoke up, "what is on you your mind, my prince ?" he made an insulted face, placing a hand of his heart " do not call me that again, lest you want me to be cross with you." she chuckled, her happiness causing his heart to swell with pride, he was the reason behind her laugh "i am simply admiring my future wife"

she raised her torso to kiss him again, all soppy and sweet. "i do have one last question to ask." she fully raised her body, legs across his lap and head neeling on his shoulder. "please do, future husband"

"last i spoke with daemon, he was ready to go to war in the name of preventing our betrothal. yet this morning, he was all smiles and agreement, i know it was not the efforts of my mother alone. what did you do ?"

"i fear if i answer that, you may turn to cast me aside" she said, begining to leave little kisses and kitten licks onto his neck. he took her jaw into his hand, seperating it from his neck, moving her to look into his eyes "we are in this together now, fully, my love. i wish to know of my wifes nature for i know i will come to love it, i already have."

"well, if you insist... my ladys maid worked under the lord stark, her father is a steward, tasked with writting many of his lords official letters. she learned to writte in her fathers handwritting and well... a certain letter arrived, late last night, detailing the request of the lady baelas hand for his son cregan"

jacaerys gave a hearty laugh " and it really took affect ?"

"ofcourse it did. the lord of winterfell will not question the crowns words, they know better than to refuse an alliance with our house. by the time the source of the betrothal comes into question, we will be on our honeymoon and alia settled with her own lover in braavos"

she looked to his eyes attempting to find any disgust, anything that would show her she was unwanted by him aswell, yet jace only looked to her with love and admiration. "you truly are a marvel, my spider" he kissed her forhead one again, then her brow, her nose, finally her lips.

"i hate to be taken away from you, however...." he began, tearing his body from hers, seeking his discarded tunic. "we have a scheduled, promenade soon. your mother is taking all the steps necessary in making us look like a prim and proper couple" he began puting his tunic back on, the sight of his back muscles flexing giving the princess another rush of arousal.

she chuckled and changed her possition on the bed, stretching her body, intending to entice her lover back into joining her. he turned around to face her once last time, the heavenly sight of her bare body making him question just how important appearances actually were. "do not play games with me girl, i should hate to disapoint the queen again"

"i said nothing..."she teased. "you neednt say anything. one day you will be queen and you may torture our children in such a way, or any way you see fit" he added. she smiled so wide it illuminated every corner of the room. "whatever you say, my king" he looked back once again, on his attempt to exit.

"treasonous girl. goodbye, my queen"

[talkdutchtome]

"Let me take care of you" - Max Verstappen

pairing . . . max verstappen x reader )

genre . . . smut )

summary . . . after a disastrous race, you take care of max the best way you know how )

warning . . . smut, 18+ MINORS DNI, oral (m receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, nipple play, use of petnames, sub!max, very soft dom!reader, traumatized maxie, not proofread )

word count . . . 2800 words )

a/n . . . this actually ended up a lot more emotional than i intended it to be but i hope everyone likes it anyway. i don't know if my smut writing is getting better or worse tbh. any and all feedback is always appricated <3 )

Max was a perfectionist; anyone could see that. He also had a desire to win like nobody else. He never let up. It didn’t matter to him if it was a title deciding race or a completely meaningless one, he needed to win. It had been instilled in him for as long as he could remember; second place is first loser after all. So naturally, when his brakes failed, and his car very literally caught fire in the Australian Grand Prix causing him to have to retire three laps into the race; you knew he was not going to take it well.  

You were watching along in the garage, and the only thing you could think about as his smoking car pulled up to the pits was how hard on himself he was going to be. The fact that it was through no fault of his own was irrelevant. He had just handed a win to Ferrari, and that made his blood boil.  

In typical Max fashion, you barely saw him after he retired too. He gave you a quick hug as he reached the garage but after that it was straight back to business. He made his way to the pit wall and immediately began discussing with Christian and GP what exactly happened and how do they fix it for Japan. He sent you a text that he was going to stay late at the track with the mechanics so that you should just head back to the hotel.  

Truthfully, Max was avoiding you. You had only been dating Max for a couple of months, and so far you had only seen him dominate on track. And whilst you were concerned that that he would be beating himself up for disappointing himself or the team, he was busy focusing on how he had disappointed you. You had taken time out of your busy university schedule to travel to the other side of the world to see him race, and he had to retire three laps in. He was used to people living through him, taking his wins as theirs. He had never considered that all you cared about that he was safe and didn’t get hurt.  

So, you went to the hotel and waited for him; or at least you tried to. Tiredness and jet lag eventually started to catch up to you, and you had just started to drift off to sleep when you heard the door open. Looking up greet Max, you could see immediately how heavy the weight he bore on his shoulders hung.  

“Hey baby, how are you feeling?” You asked him sleep in your voice still evident. Max just hung his head and walked into the bathroom. He half expected you to berate him. To question him on exactly what went wrong and what he’s going to do to fix it.  

“Maxie?” You asked again, as he came in from the bathroom and made his way to his side of the bed, his eyes routed to the floor. This time he just grunted at you in response before getting into bed and turning away from you. He did not have the energy to be told everything he did wrong and why - he had already had that from his dad.  

“Please talk to me Maxie, I’m worried.” You pleaded at him, fighting the urge to wrap your arms around him. You wanted that more than anything, but you sensed that he maybe didn’t feel the same.  

“What do you want Y/N?” He finally spoke, his voice cracking.  

“Are you okay? I know that was tough result to take but it’s only once race. We both know you’ll be back better than ever for the next one.”  

To your words, Max just grunted again. And this time you couldn’t help but reach over to hold him. Wrapping one of your arms around his waist and the other coming up to brush through his hair. You waited cautiously for him to pull away. A moment passed and he began to move, your heart sank; he clearly didn’t want to be anywhere near you right now. But instead of moving away, he just turned around, bringing himself closer to you, resting his head on your chest.  

“I just hate to let the team down” he spoke, his voice no more than a whisper, like he wasn’t 100% convinced if he should be saying anything.  

“But baby you didn’t let them down, you did nothing wrong. There was an issue with the car that isn’t your fault.” You gazed down at his face, your hands smoothing through his hair.  

“I could have done something. Maybe I pushed the brakes too much. Maybe I went too hard. All I know is that I let the team down. I let my dad down. I let you down. You cam-“ He started to ramble, but you had heard enough.   

“Whoa Max baby slow down. I can’t speak for the team or your dad, but you certainly did not let me down. All that matters to me is that you didn’t get hurt. I was so worried; you were literally driving a car that was on fire. You could have been hurt.”  

As the words left your mouth, he looked up at you. Almost as if he was trying to see if you were telling the truth. When his eyes met yours and he realized you were being sincere, he hugged tighter into you.  

“I love you Y/N” he spoke and before you could say anything, you felt him bring his mouth to your neck. Leaving hot open-mouthed kisses from your collarbone up to until he met your mouth. His lips crashed against yours. The kiss was hungry and desperate. His hands found your hair and his teeth nipped at your lips. He quickly found himself getting lost in you and you weren’t too far behind. But when his hands wandered towards the bottom of your pajama top, you had to pull away.  

“Wait, Maxie. Are you sure you want to do this? You’ve had a rough day, are you sure you want to do this. We could just go to sleep if you’d prefer.” You didn’t want him to feel like this was something he needed to do.  

But when his lips once again found your neck, it was clear you had your answer. “Please” he mumbled against your skin “I just want to forget” between each word he left a kiss on your neck, before beginning to nibble against that one spot on your neck that he knew always sent you completely insane. He left deep purple marks all down your neck and you couldn’t help but let a moan slip through your lips.  

You were about to completely cave into his touch before you had an idea, and before you could overthink whether it was a good idea, you swung your legs over him until you had him pinned underneath you, your legs either side of his. A smirk plastered across your face 

Max looked completely taken aback at your action, but the second you leant down to kiss him, your lips just slightly brushing against his; he was starstruck and could feel himself growing harder by the second, which only deepened your smirk.  

“Let me take care of you baby” you whispered in his ear before beginning to grind your core against him. The whimper that left Max’s lips took you both by surprise but, taking that as confirmation that he wanted you to take control; you attached your lips to his neck, trailing kisses down his chest until you reached the waistband of his underwear. It was clear from the way that his hard dick strained against the cloth that Max was enjoying this new side of you, and you could be lying if you said it didn’t give you a bit of a confidence boost. 

You started to tease him, placing warm kisses over his underwear, but when you hear him try and fail to beg you to touch him, it becomes clear that maybe today isn’t the day to tease him. So, you hook your fingers around his waistband and release him from the tight confines of the cloth. Immediately, your mouth found his cock, your lips wrapping around his tip. Max’s moans filled the air as he came apart like putty in your hands. The way that your tongue swirled around him made him go crazy. He reached out his hands to grab your hair in a makeshift pony, but you dodged him. Max honestly thought he was going to cry when you took your mouth off him. 

“No baby, I told you I was going to take care of you, you just sit back and let me do everything” you told him before quickly placing a kiss on his lips before reattaching your mouth to Max’s throbbing dick and bringing your hand to the part of it that you couldn’t fit in your mouth. Max felt lightheaded; it’s not like you hadn’t given him a blowjob before, but never like this. He couldn’t ever remember being this turned on before. He had never even considered letting you take control, letting you take care of him so intently before; but now that he was experiencing it – he kicked himself for waiting so long. 

The sounds coming from your boyfriend were music to your ears and only encouraged you to make him feel better and better. You could feel yourself getting wetter, completely desperate to feel him inside of you; but today was about Max, you’d happily wait longer for your own pleasure to take care of him. You began taking him deeper and deeper into your throat, earning more moans from Max. You had never heard him be so vocal before. Things got even better for him when you hallowed your cheeks and brought your hand up to his balls, massaging them in your hands as you worked his dick in your mouth.   When his tip hit the very back of your throat and you gagged around him, he was so loud you were just slightly concerned that whoever was in the room next door would be up for a rude awakening.  

“Oh, fuck baby, oh my god. I’m so close” Max just about managed to get out between moans, promoting you to once again let go of his dick. For a second Max looked at you with puppy dog eyes, silently begging you to take him back in your mouth. But as soon as you stood up and very slowly pulled your pajama shorts down, he realized that there were better things to come.  

“Do you want me to ride you, Maxie?” you asked him breathlessly earning another groan from the man lying on the bed. 

“Fuck, yes. Please please ride me I need to be inside of you more than anything” Max’s voice was weak; it was becoming all too much for him. And when you finally rid yourself of your pajama top, Max started to see stars. Your tits were his weakness, and you knew that all too well. All he wanted was to take them in his mouth, to suck and bite on your nipples. So, when you straddled him once again, that's exactly what he did. You thought about stopping him again, reminding him that tonight was about him and his pleasure; but when you caught sight of his eyes – usually so bright and sparkling. Now they were so dark, so filled with lust and desperation, you didn’t have the heart to deprive him of one of his favorite things to do.  

You leant down to kiss him again, and the taste of his own precum on your tongue made him groan feverishly against your lips. Unable to wait anymore, you finally lowered yourself onto his dick. Now it was your turn to let out a string of moans and profanity. The way that he stretched you out was a feeling that you could never grow old of. After a beat to get used to having him inside of you, you began to bounce on top of him, pumping his dick in and out of your tight desperate pussy.  

“Oh my god Maxie you feel so good, your huge dick sends me so crazy” You moan out, completely cock drunk. “You fuck me so good, god nobody makes me feel like you can” Your praise made Max moan louder than ever and then he simply couldn’t help himself anymore; he brought his hands up to your hips and began thrusting hard into you. You wanted to tell him to stop, to tell him to let you take care of him – but when he rammed his cock into g-spot you physically couldn’t ask him to stop doing something that felt so good.  

“I love you so much Y/N baby” Max croaked out, bringing his mouth back to your tits and his hand down to your clit. Him touching you for the first time tonight meant it was now time for you to see stars. His expert hands rubbing against your clit brought you closer and closer to release and you could tell from the way that Max’s thrusts became deeper and harder that he wasn’t far behind you. 

Wanting to finish what you had started; you placed your hands on his chest – signaling him to stop for a second. Max did so very reluctantly, but when you started to bounce on his dick again his eyes rolled back into his head. After each bounce you grinded yourself down on him, desperate to get him as deep as you possibly could. Your climax was getting closer and closer and soon you felt like you were ready to burst. 

“I’m going to cum on your dick okay baby? You just make me feel so good I can’t help myself.” you told the man beneath you breathlessly, prompting Max to resume rubbing circles into your clit. 

“Please do. Please cum all over my cock I need that so much” Max croaked out and with that you fell over the edge. A wave of pleasure washed over you and you screamed out for Max. It felt so good you thought you were going to pass out, completely taken over by the pleasure that Max’s hard dick had given you. For a few moments, you simply had to still yourself to let yourself recover. 

Once you had ridden out the last of your orgasm, you were ready to go again; ready to make Max feel as good as you possibly could. You began grinding down onto him, squeezing yourself against him. After feeling you cumming all over him, Max knew he wouldn’t need long before he was right behind you.  

“Fuck Y/N I’m really close, get off and I’ll finish in your mouth” Max just about got out between moans. When you didn’t get off and instead began bouncing faster and harder, Max really thought he might just die.  

“Cum inside of me Maxie please, I need your cum fucked so deep inside me”  

“Fuck really?” 

“Yeah, i need it so bad.” 

“Oh my god Y/N, you’ll be the fucking death of me” 

The second those words left his mouth, he fell apart. A string of profanity left his lips, and you could feel his dick pulse inside of you as he painted the insides of you white with his cum. Max couldn’t believe how good it felt, sex with you was always great but that was on another level, he couldn’t remember ever feeling that good before. 

“I love you so much Y/N” 

He gently slipped himself out of you and you collapsed next to him on the bed. Exhausted wasn’t the word for how tired you felt after that. And apparently that was true for Max as well as in the time that it took you to waddle to the toilet to clean yourself up, he had managed to fall asleep. You couldn’t blame him of course; even before that it had been a very long tiering day for him. So, as quietly as you could, you got ready for bed and slipped yourself into bed next to him.  

Looking at the very peaceful sleeping man next to you, you couldn’t help but snuggle down close to him. Placing a kiss on his temple before assuming the big spoon position that you know he loves so much from you. Your movement causing him to ever so slightly stir awake. 

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me” he spoke so softly you almost missed it before falling right back into a very peaceful sleep. You couldn’t help but feel so lucky to have a man like him cuddled close to you. 

“Sleep well Maxie, I love you more than anything.” 

[kentopedia]

♰ pain reliever — okkotsu yuuta

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖ KINKTOBER NO. 2 - vampire!yuuta

your vampire boyfriend can't resist the taste of you during a certain time of the month

contents. fem!reader, nsfw minors dni, smut, period sex, vampire!yuuta, cunnilingus, blood drinking, slight teasing — 2.2k

a steady ache in your abdomen pulls you out of your previously deep sleep, the dull throb increasing with every second. it’s the middle of the night, and your eyes are still heavy with exhaustion, the back of your eyelids burning when you try to squeeze them shut once more. 

though, no matter how many times you flip to the other side, the pain won’t subside, not even a little bit. you’re left curling into a ball, glaring at the emptiness of the dark. 

beside you, the bed is empty, though that wasn’t unusual for the middle of the night. still, it would’ve been nice to curl up into another body, to feel your boyfriend’s large palm rub over your stomach, in the hopes that it would ease the cramps.

you shift onto your stomach and check your phone, already missing yuuta. it’s just a little over three, but there’s no messages from him, no indication as to where he’d gone for the evening. 

you contemplate calling him; but when your finger hovers over his name, you click your phone off and sigh. they’re just cramps—nothing you can’t handle on your own. this time of the month had come and gone a hundred times before. you just need a heating pad and some pain reliever, and that should be enough to lull you back to sleep.

with eyes that are half-shut, you lazily slump towards the door, feeling far too much like a zombie. the floor is cold under your bare feet, and you shiver, picking yuuta’s sweatshirt up off the edge of the bed to throw it on. 

the moment you open the bedroom door, a wave of overwhelming perfume assaults your senses, the mixture one of every fall aroma. it combines into a cloud of smoke and wax, and its too much, far too much. the smells nearly have you choking. 

in the living room, there are thirty different flames lit, spread across the surfaces. they illuminate the room with a haunting glow, showcasing yuuta, who sits in the corner of the sofa, contemplative. 

“yuuta?” you say, calling out his name. he clenches his jaw but keeps his eyes forward. with his acute hearing, he’d probably heard the breath you took when you woke up, and every movement you’d made after that. “the candles are giving me a headache, baby.” your eyes begin to water from the smoke in the air, and one by one, you start to blow them out. 

“no!” yuuta exclaims, and when you turn, his irises are darker, wide as they watch you move around. “leave them.”  

you frown, but blow another one out as yuuta squeezes his palms to his side. his back goes taut, straightening as tension stretches him thin.

“it’ll just make me nauseous.” there’s a sour taste growing in your mouth, a pain in your temple. you reach for the final three candles. they aren’t as strong, but they still fill the air, a culmination of pumpkin, vanilla and coffee. “i started my period.” 

yuuta’s eyes flash as he watches you bend over to blow out one of the candles, your lips puckering, before you move to the last flame. his gaze is careful, considering as your little exhale extinguishes the fire.

“i know,” yuuta says, grabbing your wrist before you can blow out the final flames. his dark locks are loose, falling over his paler skin as he licks his lips. a sharp gaze pins you, tracing from your forehead to your chin. “i could smell you all the way from the bedroom.”

you blink, swallowing at his predatory eyes, the way his pupils darken, sharp white canines curling over his lips. it’s easy to forget, truly, how dangerous he is. he’s sweet and caring—not like the vampires you’ve seen in the movies—but he is, still, a vampire.

yuuta lures you in, inching you closer until you’re beside him on the couch, your breath the only sound between you. “i thought you were…” you trail off, a part of your voice cracking. “didn’t you go hunt?” 

it seems like a strange word to say, but you couldn’t think of a better one. you suppose, at the end of the day, he is more of a creature than a man. his instincts ones of bloodlust, ones that he has to fight against every moment that he’s with you. 

“couldn’t leave,” he says, his voice coming out clipped. “tried to, but i just kept thinking of your sweet blood. tastes so good.” his hand rests on your thigh, fingers rubbing small circles near your hip. “are your cramps getting bad?” 

you look at him from under your lashes as he licks his lips, pushing you backward slowly, until your head hits the arm of the sofa. the palm on your body is cold, but it does little to cool your heated skin. 

“it hurts,” you finally nod, breathing heavily as he smiles, sympathetic to your pain. 

“let me help,” yuuta inches a finger into your waistband, slowly dragging down your shorts. his tongue darts out across his lip, hungrily, like he might have trouble controlling his urge to devour you. 

you swallow. when you still him with a touch to his wrist, he simply cocks his head, curious, his fingers still resting between your shorts. 

“get a towel first,” you say, but the request is ignored. he slides the shorts completely off, lowering his head. “you’ll make a mess.”

yuuta ignores you, salivating as he kisses from the crevice of your knee, up your thigh. he inhales deeply against your hipbone, the strong aroma of your arousal and blood almost too much for him. 

bowing his head, he presses his lips to your cunt, licking you through your panties, lapping at the spot of blood that had already begun to stain there. “i don’t plan on wasting a drop, princess.” 

a stuttering breath leaves you, and your head falls back as yuuta kisses you softly over the cotton. his tongue flicks out, warm and wet, licking a stripe through your folds. the thin piece of cloth sucks into them, blood seeping through. 

“yuuta,” you whine, impatient he takes his time with you, his long fangs catching on the flimsy underwear. 

“don’t want to go too fast.” finally, he glances up, stares at you with hungry, black eyes. yuuta drags your panties off, but he’s far too slow, teasing you. “you know how much i love sucking the blood from your pretty pussy, hm?” his voice comes out in a near growl, and his grip grows tight around your knees, spreading your legs further. “wait for it all month.” 

he runs a tongue over sharp white teeth, hungry at the sight of you spread out, bloody and bare, just for him. 

“even when it hurts?” you ask in a small voice, but yuuta smiles, his thick eyelashes fluttering. his dark lips curl at the corners, more mocking than kind, drinking you in.

“it won’t hurt for long, love.” yuuta kisses the inside of your thighs, licking every inch of skin he can manage to get his tongue on. “besides, you get turned on so easily when you’re bleeding.”

he pushes his tongue against your entrance, curling over your wet arousal. the kisses are with such care, reminiscent of the sweet boy you’re used to loving, the one who stumbles over his words and still flushes hot when you kiss him. though, that familiarity only lasts for a moment. once yuuta gets a taste of you, his hunger doubles. 

he sucks, hard, his lips around your clit, the pressure sending a wave of desire through your body. you reach down and grip his dark locks, in any attempt to guide him within your thighs. though, you’re under yuuta’s control completely, and he licks deep in you, gathering the clots of blood onto his tongue. 

“fuck,” he hums against your cunt, his nose nudging your clit as he curses. the vibrations of his words shake you, and instinctively, your thighs try to squeeze together. but yuuta is stronger than you—much stronger—and he keeps them spread apart, fingers leaving tiny imprints on your skin. “you’re so sweet. so good for me. never tasted anyone like you before.” he praises, but its hard for him to speak as he fucks his tongue into you, lapping at your juices like its the nectar of gods. 

you can’t think of anything to say, and a soft whimper leaves your lips, the sound of his name barely audible with your exhale. yuuta’s fangs are smooth against your hot body, almost soothing as he runs his tongue along your folds. 

“i’ll make the the cramps go away.” he says. yuuta’s been replaced by a much cockier, confident version of the occasionally awkward vampire. his fangs gleam as he looks up at you, and your eyes flutter shut, hardly able to focus on the sight of him sucking at your bloody pussy. “promise, princess. it’s the least i can do when you keep me so well-fed.”

you nod, humming, but the sound is lost as yuuta dives back down, the blood coating his lips, his nose, dark against his chin. he takes both your thighs and throws them over his shoulder, reaching deeper in your hole as you moan, far too sensuously for the silent room. 

“yuuta—” you start, but you don’t remember it feeling this good before, you don’t remember pain ever being taken from you so easily. the words die, and you begin them again. “your tongue—”

he smiles, tightening his grip as he sucks faster, harder. “feels better?” 

“almost,” you say, breathless. “it’s… not enough.” 

yuuta groans, but he pulls back, licking the blood off his lips. “course it’s not,” he says. “so greedy, sometimes.” he presses, small, quick kisses across your thigh, teeth grazing the skin, and slides a finger into you; then another. 

his fingers are long, far longer than his tongue, and he stretches you, your walls sucking them right back in. with a gasp, you squeeze your thighs around his head, but yuuta just sighs. 

“please,” he says, teeth against the soft skin of your thigh. “please, can i?”

he’s close to begging, even though you’re the one who’s desperate, and you nod, needing him to curl farther into you, to reach the spot that’s deep within you. the sounds grow louder, lewd as his fingers sink in and out of you, so thick within your tight cunt.

yuuta bites you, then, sinks his fangs into your thigh, and you nearly scream, arching up into him as you start to tremble. 

his usually white teeth stain a deep scarlet, and he groans against your body, pulling back to watch you. “want you to cum for me, nice and hard, okay baby? we gotta get rid of those cramps.” he drinks from your thigh again, and you’re so close, not even realizing that you’re thrusting your hips up to meet his fingers as he goes inside you. 

“y-yuuta” you say, taking two hard breaths when he abandons the open wound on your thigh, and returns to sucking your clit, rubbing you with just enough force. the ache builds up and up, and you’re right on the ledge, about to fall over, his name leaving your lips once more in a cry. 

“that’s it,” he says, pumping in and out of you, graceful and heavy. “oh you’re so pretty, you know that? i’ve lived for centuries, and in all that time, i’ve never seen anyone look as perfect as you when they cum.” 

you break then, squeezing his fingers as babbled words leave your lips in a moan. your entire body shakes, convulsing as you reach blissful release, and you slump back on the couch, your head hitting the arm rest.

yuuta slides his fingers out of you slowly, and then he sticks them in his own mouth, licking every drop of your blood and juices from his hand. his eyes are blown wide with lust, hazy and dark as he drinks you up. 

“i can’t get enough of you,” he says, his voice so hoarse that the words are almost nothing at all. “my sweet little human girl.” yuuta doesn’t move, but he’s so lost in the taste of you, even as his cock strains hard against his flannel pajama pants. “just right there for the taking. a warm body full of the most delicious blood. mine.”

you pull him close then, needing to kiss him, feeling his hard teeth bump against your own. he tastes metallic; it’s not as good as he makes it out to be. still, if it drives him crazy, turns him into an absolute addict from just the scent of you, you’ll gladly give him every drop he wants. a smile graces your lips as he groans into you, licking your mouth. 

“yuuta?” 

he pulls away for just a moment, blinking lust-blown eyes. “hm?” 

“my cramps are gone.”

tags: @satohruu @cha0thicpisces @kissesmellow21 @sukiischaotic @hinata7346 @annoyingpainterprincess

OCTOBER MASTERLIST

btw this was going to be a toji fic and then he lost the poll ... i did not know there were so many yuuta fans following me

[sweetbuckybarnes]

Who is This? - Bucky x Reader

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Bucky had a wife during the 40s, she was left heartbroken after the telegram arrived (missing, presumed dead). It's surprising when 80 years later, she was working behind a bar in Madripoor of all places!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Part 2

Bucky followed Sam and Zemo into a loud bar, he immediately wanted to turn around and go home, why had Zemo demanded he go back to being the Winter Soldier (even if it was one night)?

The sound of heavy drums and guitars also deafened his hearing, a song he had come to learn was The Wild Boy by a band called Duran Duran. A few bartenders and waitresses were walking around, there was only one who stuck out to him - a dark-haired young woman who reminded him too much of his departed wife.

His heart breaks even more, thinking of the woman he had left behind, his girl. The love of his life. Bucky doesn't think he will ever 'get over' her.

The way the young woman walked, carrying a tray of empty glasses (before being tossed an empty bottle by a patron), was so similar to the way his girl walked in the hole-in-the-wall diner she worked in.

She wasn't quick enough to duck under the bar before they got to the door leading upstairs (which was coincidentally next to the bar), Zemo was talking to the bouncer. "Excuse me, gentlemen," the young woman said, squeezing between the back of Zemo and the front of Bucky. Which is when he got a good look at her face.

There she was.

His girl. His wife.

He couldn't even say anything to her, as he was taken upstairs and away from his girl. He could only hope he would be allowed back in at the end of the night to see her.

Y/N Barnes made her way behind the bar, glancing up at the TV where the Kansas City Chiefs were currently playing the Buffalo Bills at Arrowhead Stadium, then down at her phone which showed the live score of the Dodgers game against the San Francisco Giants.

She had been a long-time Dodgers girl, even after she found out they had moved from Brooklyn to Los Angeles.

"Did you see the way he was looking at you?" Yasmine asked, pushing a dry Martini in front of a 26-year-old woman.

Y/N looked up from the glasses she was putting in the dishwasher. "Huh? What are you talking about?"

"One of the men who went upstairs. The way he was looking at you," Yasmine fans her hand for dramatic effect. "I would drop my panties for him in a millisecond."

"Like you don't do that every night."

Yasmine rolled her eyes and served the next half-drunk who had come to the bar.

"Don't listen to her," Anastasia told her, rolling her eyes as Yasmine flirted with her current flavour of the week.

"It's not often I do, darling," Y/N replied, fiddling with Anastasia's curls for a second, before spotting a patron. "What can I get for you, darling?"

He hung off the bar, obviously far too drunk to understand what was going on. "Another beer and your phone number," he slurred.

She shook her head, reaching over and grabbing him another beer. As far as the boss of the bar (whoever that was) was concerned unless they were unconscious- why should you stop serving them? Y/N thought it wasn't right, but no matter how often she voiced this - she was shut down.

She set the beer in front of him and then went to the register to add it to his bill (good thing she currently has his credit card behind the bar).

"Oi, sweet cheeks!" He calls, but Y/N doesn't pay attention looking over at Yasmine and Anastasia with a raised eyebrow. "Sweet cheeks! I asked for your number."

Y/N replied by simply raising her hand proudly displaying her engagement and wedding rings to the drunk. It was only a small diamond (given Bucky worked on the docks before he was deployed), and the plain band she inherited from her great-grandmother.

"What's the matter with that 'un?" He hiccups. "He got you costume jewellery or somethin'?"

Y/N shook her head. "I'm going into the back for a moment," she tells Aidan.

Little did the drunk patron know, all those years ago, this was the date she was handed the telegraph - putting in such blunt words. Her James was missing, they presumed him to be dead. It breaks her heart that they never got to have a proper funeral.

"You alright, honey?" Elizabeth (another one of the waitresses) asked, she had been outside on her break. Elizabeth was the only one who knew her true age and about her James.

"It's the day I found out James was missing," Y/N said, before bursting into more tears.

Elizabeth wrapped Y/N up in a hug, everyone oblivious to the fact that Y/N's presumed dead husband was now running through the bar, flocked by Sam and Zemo, and into the alley behind the bar.

When Bucky was sure Zemo, Sam and Sharon were asleep, he slipped out of the safe house and into the night - determined to find out if the woman he saw in the bar was that of his (presumably? should be?) dead wife.

He eventually made his way to the front door of the bar, the bouncers had long since gone home. He could see lights on in the building and just about make out words being spoken thanks to the Super Soldier serum running through his veins.

He grasped the handle and gave it a push, the door hadn't been locked, as it gave beneath the slight push.

He could see three young women sitting on the bar, a man who was counting the money from the register and another man who was dancing.

The young woman sitting closest to the bar, had golden curls hanging around her head. "Mark, you didn't lock the door!"

The man dancing, Mark, looked over at Bucky, eyes widening when he saw the size of Bucky. "I say we just serve him, then lock the door behind him."

As the bartenders and waitress argued amongst themselves, Bucky's eyes never left the woman in the middle. It looked as if she had been crying. "Babydoll?"

The woman stopped giggling, tipping her head back to normal and looked at him, before dropping her glass as tears welled up in her eyes. "James?"

The curly-haired woman gasped, setting her glass down and giving Y/N a push off the bar.

Bucky held his arms out to catch her as her feet landed on the floor. He couldn't stop looking at her big eyes, he'd always loved her big expressive eyes. He always knew how she was feeling by just a look in her eyes.

"James? Is that you?" Her hand came out slowly, and shakily, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing in front of her.

"Hi, babydoll," Bucky smiled, tears starting to fall down his cheeks, a heavy sob held tightly in his chest at the moment in time. As soon as her fingers met his skin, Bucky let out a heavy sigh of relief, reaching over and pulling her into his arms. Y/N's arms dug themselves away from his chest and up around his neck before her hand soon started fiddling with his hair.

The couple stood there for a moment, finally finding their slice of peace. Some came barging into the bar, and the dark-haired woman who had been sitting on the other side of Y/N practically demanded Mark lock the door before the Hounds of Baskerville came in.

Y/N was so happy to finally have her James back in her arms, but there was a whirling sound she couldn't let go. "What's that noise?"

Bucky looked from his wife to his arm and back to his bride. "I'll explain everything to you later, but... I lost my arm, and I now have a prosthetic one," he tells her, letting go of her for a moment so he could take his glove off and show her the black and gold Vibranium one he had made.

"Ok, James. It's a good thing you gave me this," she reached beneath her top and pulled a ring out from beneath, hanging from a chain. "Before you were deployed."

Bucky smiled, cupping her face so he could kiss her. Bucky pulled away chuckling a little. "Babydoll, will you please put my ring back on?"

She reached behind her to unclasp the chain, and slid Bucky's band off, "if it doesn't fit we'll get it resized."

"I don't care what size it is, as long as you put my ring back where it belongs," Bucky almost growled, a piece of him falling back into place with the ring back on his finger.

The next morning - Sam, Zemo and Sharon came into the living room, seeing Bucky sleeping on the sofa (Sam was expecting this, after being told by Steve), however, there was a lump lying next to Bucky they didn't recognise.

Sam slowly makes his way over, gently easing down the thick blanket lying over Bucky and the lump.

Lying there, practically on top of the 'bionic staring machine' was a young woman.

"Did he somehow pick up a girl?" Sam whispered. Sam and Sharon were trying to be quiet - however, Zemo (who didn't care) started clattering around the kitchen, causing Bucky to wake up in a start, which then caused the young woman to look up with tired owl-like eyes.

"What the hell is going on?" Bucky nearly demanded, keeping his arms wrapped around his companion.

Sam raised his eyebrow. "I could ask you the same question, Barnes?" Sam looked at the young woman in Bucky's arms. "Who is this?"

Bucky looked down at her, Sam watched as a smile grew on his face. "This is Y/N. Y/N Barnes. My wife."

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

i saw your prompt list and was hoping for number 6 with Aegon <3

‘’Don’t cry. I hate it when you cry.’’

Request: Aegon married Rhaenyra's daughter. When the king dies, Alicent lock her in the dungeons so she won't go to her mother and ruin the coronation. Aegon ask where his wife is and get you out himself. Tells the guard that his wife is not to be made prisoner

—

You always knew Alicent had madness running through her blood, but you never thought she would have you taken to the dungeons and imprisoned. 

After dressing in your day dress, you were walking down the corridors, looking for Halaena when you heard voices coming from the small council chamber talking about sending men to Dragonstone to kill your mother and Daemon. Before you could get to your bed chamber and write her a message to send by crow, one of the guards saw you and brought you to the dungeons. 

You tried to scream for help, but the sounds were killed by the stone walls. So you sank to the floor and curled on yourself, praying to the gods that someone would come get you out. Someone must have noticed your absence. 

At his return from the dragonpit, Aegon walked into your chambers and called to you. He assumed you were with his sister, so he went to Halaena’s chambers, but she told him she had not seen you. On his way back from his sister’s chambers, Aegon heard the servants whispering about ‘the blacks’ daughter’ and stopped them. 

With fury in his eyes, the prince stormed down to the dungeons. He didn’t have his sword on him — only Aemond wore it on the daily —, but he had his dagger. Whoever would try to oppose freeing you will end their day bleeding out. Aegon was not afraid of a fight. 

His footsteps echoed off the stone walls and the torches flickered as he passed. As he reached the entrance to the dungeons, Aegon clenched his fists, the muscles in his jaw tight with determination. Without surprise, two guards were stationed at the entrance. They moved to block the way when the prince approached. 

‘’We cannot let you go past, my prince. Orders of the Queen,’’ one of them said.

‘’The King’s dead, which no longer makes her Queen. And as the rightful heir to the throne, it is my command you obey.’’ Aegon tried to go past them, but the other guard pulled out his sword. ‘’I could have you removed from the kingsguard for pointing your sword at your future King.’’ His jaw clenched, his grip tightening on the hilt of his dagger as he stared the defiant guards.

The threat hung heavy in the air, a silent warning of the consequences should they continue to defy him. After a tense moment, the guard who had brandished his sword reluctantly stepped aside.

‘’My wife is not to be made a prisoner,’’ Aegon declared, his voice ringing with authority, holding his dagger at the guard’s throat. 

The guard gulped. ‘’Yes, my Prince.’’ 

Aegon walked past them, wondering how his own mother could do this. A part of him was not surprised, though. Her determination often goes too far. 

Finally, he reached the row of cells. All were empty, except one. His heart was pounding in his chest as he saw you sitting with your knees pulled to your chest on the cold stone floor. He said your name and you looked up, tears welling up in your eyes as you stood and reached out to him. You knew he would come for you. 

‘’Aegon!’’ Your voice held relief. 

He grabbed your hand through the bars, cold from being down here, holding it. ‘’Don’t cry. I hate it when you cry.’’ Aegon reached out to caress your tear-streaked face, his touch a tender reassurance in the midst of chaos. 

Using the keys he stole from the guards, Aegon unlocked the door, a harsh creaking sound echoing in the silence of the dungeon when it opened. Without hesitation, he pulled you into his arms, holding you close as if afraid to let you go. 

‘’Are you alright?’’ he asked, stepping back to look at you. 

You nodded. You were cold, and very thirsty, but not hurt. ‘’I heard your mother and her father speaking to the Lord Commander. They sent men to murder my mother,’’ you said, a tear slipping down your face. ‘’I was sent here so I wouldn’t write to her and risk ruining your coronation. I need to get to the dragonpit. I have to go to Dragonstone and save my mother.’’ 

—

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[moosesarecute]

YOU’RE MATES???

“Two weeks?” Your brother asked.

“I know it’s a lot, but I need a break. And I want to make sure I actually feel better by the end of it. I might get back earlier, but I want two weeks in case I need it,” you answered.

“You should have told me that you felt overwhelmed, Y/N. I could have helped you. I still can help you.”

“I know, but I want to fix this on my own.”

Rhys hesitated.

“Okey, you have two weeks. But make sure you give me some signs that you are alive every few days, okay?”

You nodded and hugged him.

“My two best spies needing a break at the same time,” Rhys continued. “What will I do?”

You froze, but tried your best not to show it. There’s no way he’s realized it now.

“Azriel is also on break?” you asked, doing your best to sound surprised.

“Yeah, he also said he needed two weeks, maybe more,” you fought a blush, “he didn’t give any reason for why, but I would never say no to that.”

“Weird,” was all you replied before you made a bad excuse to leave his office.

You closed the door and immediately winnowed to the cabin furthest away from Velaris. It was the cabin that was used the least by your family, but it was your favorite. You also knew that when the two weeks were over, the smell would linger for a long time, so you didn’t want it to bother your family with it.

You felt excitement spreading through your body as you made your way to the kitchen. With your hair set up and your mother’s old apron on, you started making an apple pie.

It didn’t take very long to make the pie, so you soon sat at the kitchen table, tapping your foot on the floor as you waited.

And waited.

And then you finally heard the door open and in walked your beautiful, sweet, majestic, mysterious and wonderful mate, your Azriel, ready for you to accept the bond.

********************************

It took exactly 48 hours before your brother reached out and asked if you were alive.

“I’m fine, Rhysie, just enjoying the peace and quiet. I’ve read two books so far and started a new crochet project.”

“And you’re remembering to eat?”

“Yes, I’m well fed,” you answered.

“Then I’m happy,” Rhys finished with and left your mind.

Most of it was a lie of course. You were well fed, both you and Azriel had brought lots of leftovers so that you quickly could heat up something when you became hungry enough to take a break from eating each other.

But you had not even opened the books or picked up the yarn you always kept at the cabin.

“He’s worried?” Azriel asked.

“Yup, but he’ll be alright,” you said as you moved to kiss your mate once more. “And I’m extremely alright.”

Your mate met your kisses. You were straddling him on the couch with minimal clothing, doing your best to take a break from ravishing each other…the break didn’t last very long.

********************************

Two more days went by and your brother took contact once more.

“You know I told you to give me signs you are alive, right? I don’t like that I have to reach out to you.”

“You worry too much,” you answered pretending to sound annoyed. “I’m doing good. Just relaxing.”

“You’re not going crazy being alone?”

You had to hold back a little laugh. He obviously didn’t know that you were far from alone, being embraced in a cocoon of your mates large wings as you took a nap.

Luckily for you, you didn’t mind spending time away from people. You didn’t leave often, but it had happened multiple times before and Rhys knew that.

“I enjoy being alone sometimes, you know that.”

“Yes, but-“

“I’ll come home early if I need to,” you cut him off by saying.

“Okay, okay,” your brother said and left your mind.

“He hasn’t reached out to me yet,” Azriel told you. His voice was heavy with sleep and you spent some time admiring how cute he looks when he’s tired.

“He wants to give you space, I’m sure he’ll reach out to you soon.”

“I don’t mind, really,” he said. “I’m perfectly happy talking with you and you only.”

You grinned and nap time was over.

********************************

“I have to tell Rhys I’m alive,” you told your mate in between kisses.

“Right now?” He sighed.

“He has taken contact at 8 o’clock the other times and he’ll probably do that today too,” you explained and left his lap, but stayed beside him, playing with his hair.

You brushed your brother’s mental shields and he immediately let you in.

“I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m aliveeee,” you sang in a little song.

“Good, thank you,” Rhys replied, not joining your joking mood.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” he told you. You were about to call him a liar when he continued. “I just miss you.”

You started to feel bad for lying to and leaving your brother. Azriel picked up on your emotions and started hugging you.

“I miss you too Rhysie, but I really need this,” you told him.

“I know, little one. Thanks for taking contact.”

Rhys closed his mental shields and you were forced out of his mind.

You were about to start talking to Azriel, when he let go of you and silenced you with a finger in front of your lips. He stayed like that for a few seconds and you realized your brother must have taken contact with him.

“He just asked if I’m alive and alright,” Azriel explained.

“Good,” you replied. “Then we can continue our activities.”

You leaned in and kissed his forehead, then his eyes, his nose and lastly his lips. After each kiss, both of your smiles grew larger.

********************************

You were making dinner the next time you felt your brother’s claws on your shields. You carefully moved away from Azriel’s embrace and kisses and took a sip from your glass of water as you opened your mental shields.

“I know why you’re gone,” Rhys said before you could greet him.

You spit out your water and Azriel looked at you with shocked eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied trying not to sound nervous.

Your brother spent a long time before he continued.

“I needed the book on Illyrian history for a up coming meeting.” Your heart sunk. “I saw on the library card that you borrowed it last, so I thought I should look in your room. I know I should have asked, but I figured you didn’t want for me to bother you, so I just went inside.”

“I’m sorry, Rhys. We just-“

“I’m sorry you didn’t feel comfortable telling me. If you two are dating and you’re happy, I’m happy. You could have just told me if you wanted a couple’s vacation.”

“I’ll explain everything when we get home, I promise.”

“Just enjoy each other’s company. I won’t tell the others.”

“Are you mad?”

He again waited a little before he answered. “No, I’m not mad. But I’m definitely fighting Azriel when you get home.”

Both of you laughed.

“I’m looking forward to seeing that,” you answered. “See you soon.”

“See you.”

Azriel looked at you with wary eyes.

“He knows about the relationship, but not the bond.” When you felt and saw the anxiety spread through his body, you added “he’s not mad, but he will fight you when you get home.”

You closed the gap between you two and caressed his cheeks. “He’s happy as long as I’m happy and if I haven’t already made that clear, I’m the happiest I have ever been.”

You stood on your toes and kissed him. He kissed you back, lifted you up and sat you on the counter.

He picked up a plate and filled it with food and gave it to you.

“From this day I’ll give you food. It doesn’t matter if you made it or I or someone else, I’m giving you the food.”

You looked confused at him. “why?”

“We are mates, equals in every way. You had to feed me to accept the bond, to show that we’re equals I’ll feed you from now.” He kissed you as soon as he finished talking.

“I love that, mate,” you kissed him back. “It’ll be our thing.”

********************************

“Not going to ask if I’m alive?” You asked your brother two days later. “It’s 5 minutes past 8! I started to worry!”

“I now know that you aren’t alone, I don’t want to interrupt anything.”

You failed to mention that he had interrupted you and Azriel having sex more than once during the 12 days you had been at the cabin.

“When are you coming home?” Rhys asked. “I’m starting to go crazy with Cassian and Mor bickering around me all the time.”

“Two days time I think,” you replied. “So you’ll have to survive without us a little longer.”

“It’s so weird that you two are dating.”

“We might be a little more than just dating,” you told him and immediately left his mind.

You felt him claw on your mental shields multiple times, but you didn’t let him in.

********************************

“Wow,” you said in awe as you looked at your mate’s shadows.

“What?” Azriel asked. He was seated on the couch.

“Have they always looked like that?”

“Looked like what?”

You walked closer to your mate, straddled him as you tried to get a closer look of his shadows.

“It’s like they’re a little violet.”

Azriel commanded his shadows to stand before him. His eyes widened and were soon at the same size as yours.

His shadows did indeed have a little violet tint to them. Not a lot, but if you looked very closely, you could see it.

“I didn’t know they could do that,” you said. Still looking at the shadows. “They’re beautiful.”

“I love it,” Azriel said. His eyes met yours. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you replied.

********************************

The two of you walked hand in hand into the townhouse. After having been sneaking around for two years, showing your relationship felt a little weird.

However, being mated mates felt as though everything was as it was supposed to be. It was 40 years since the mating bond had snapped, so it was about time that you accepted it.

Your brother had previously told you that the rest of your family would be at the townhouse that evening, so you decided to just show up as mates.

Together you opened the doors to the living room.

“Finally! You’ve been gone too-“ Mor stopped talking. Her eyes looked from you to Azriel to your hands. “Holy shit.”

You just laughed and held Azriel’s hand a little tighter.

“YOU’RE MATES???????” Cassian yelled at you.

“How didn’t we know that?”

Your eyes found your brother’s. He wore an amused grin and just shook his head.

“It’s almost like both of them are spies,” Rhys said.

“Or that you three just never spent enough time with both of them together,” Amren spoke. “They were quite obvious at times.”

You didn’t know for sure that Amren knew about the two of you, but you weren’t surprised to know that she did.

“You have to tell me everything!” Mor said as she started to move over to you.

You started to back out of the room. “I think I’m going to take a bath first,” you said, met Azriel’s eyes and started to leave for your bedroom.

Azriel luckily understood what you meant and followed you in a way Mor later would describe as “a love sick puppy”.

********************************

“Please don’t,” Azriel begged you.

“I told you I would do it if you continued to act too possessive,” you just told him.

“I’m not possessive.”

“You hissed at Rhys…,” you said a little annoyed. “My brother.”

He knew that he had lost the discussion and you didn’t waist anytime spraying him with your new spray bottle filled with ice cold water.

A few meters away from you, Cassian and Rhys stood laughing at the two of you. They would never let him forget it and even after 500 years, they still sometimes threatens him with “getting Y/N’s spray bottle”.

[tender-rosiey]

even — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: ohoho? an argument with husband sukuna? i wonder how that will go ;) fluff ending btw so don't worry

your life as the wife of the king of curses is far from the normal married life. your husband is not like most. you knew that. he is different, rougher than your childhood tales of a prince charming.

he is sharper, grumpier, and grouchier. it was all part of the package and you knew all of that.

but, you can’t help but wish for a moment of tenderness between you and him. and while you know that sukuna shows his care differently, you also want to feel the softer side of his affecton.

that’s why when you overheard the maids talking and gossiping about your marriage, your heart was filled with fury, but most importantly sadness.

they talk about how he will eventually get bored and that your fate has been destined since the moment you entered the palace. it also doesn’t help that there are times when sukuna is a tad bit rougher and angrier.

he tends to not take it out on you, but sometimes, you’re there in the wrong time.

such as today.

after a particularly rough day, you slam the door of your chambers behind you. your chest feels tight and the kimono feels far too suffocating to keep on, especially since it reminds you of him. you clumsily take it off and throw it on the bed and get into your silk robe.

you take multiple deep breaths as you settle down on your bed, trying to calm down.

though, the calm is short-lived as your husband bursts through the door, a deep scowl on his face, “what’s up with you?”

he is met with silence which aggravates him more, and he growls, “I am sure what you did isn’t something you do to the king of curses who is also your—“

“what do you think of me?”

and for the first time, in this moment, his eyes meet your own. yours are filled with pain and faux confidence, with a hint of fear. it reminds him all too much of your first meeting, and he doesn’t like it. he thought that your fear of him became a thing of the past. it makes him uneasy.

but sukuna’s perceptiveness is nothing to take lightly because when he concentrates, he notices that the fear isn’t from him but what he will say.

and it snaps him back to reality and the question you ask. but he still doesn’t answer it. instead, he quirks an eyebrow, confused, “huh? what the hell are you talking about?”

you stand up slowly, silk dragged behind you as you walk towards your mirror. you’re playing with your ring quietly before you ask, “what do you think of me?”

“you should know that,” he retorts, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

“well, I don’t,” you smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

his feet take him to you, his arms crossed, “do you think I would marry just anyone?”

you seem to have reached your limit as you finally look him in the eyes with anger brimming in your irises. you snarl at the man in front of you, “what if it was a marriage of convenience? what if it was something to shut the world up with? to make me submit?”

he seems taken back, but you give him no chance to reply as you continue, “the maids talk and talk about how you don’t care, and I ignore them I really do!”

anger laces your voice as you roughly push a finger to his chest, “but when you do things like what you did tonight, you make what they say all sound true!”

“you push me away, you pull me back,” your tears start to well up, “all at your own leisure, and I can’t handle that! I want you to care, but with so much happening—I…”

your tears are falling down your face; panic and pain lacing your voice as it gets louder and louder, “I can’t help but think that you don’t truly like me, let alone love me!” you press on, “do you even like me?”

your breaths are ragged and heavy. your eyes are puffy, red, and strained. you slowly sit on the ground and pull your knees closer, sobs escaping your throat. you’re unware of the man who walks towards you then kneels in front of you.

you’re wiping your tears frantically, but they never stop. sukuna frowns.

he then silently takes your hand into his and raises it to his forehead. his eyes are focused on you as he utters the following words, “If I gave you the necks of those who speak nonsense to you,” he raises a brow, “will you be sure then?”

your breath is caught in your throat and you can’t formulate a response. he sounds serious and you know he is. you recall all the times he, without hesitation, killed for you.

but, right now, you truly can’t help but think about how the moon shines behind your husband, contrasting and illuminating his reddish pink hair.

while you’re lost in your own thoughts, sukuna has enough of your silence and bites down on your finger lightly, “so?”

gasping, you pout and snatch your hand back, “hey! what was that for?”

with a roll of his eyes, he pulls you closer by the waist then his hand travels to the back of your head. he rests his forehead on your own before speaking up, voice absolute, “you’re my queen, and I will cut the head of anyone who speaks ill of you.”

“and…” his thumb gently swipes at your tears, “I don't want to see you cry like this,” he grumbles, looking away, “so stop it; it’s annoying.”

a smile creeps up your face and a giggle escapes your lips, “you love me that much?”

he groans before getting up and leaving you on the ground. he goes to rest beside the window and you giddily follow suit. his hand, almost by instinct, pulls you towards his lap. after sitting, you tilt your head to look up at him with a cheeky smirk, “aww, you love me!”

he pushes your face into his chest, muffling your voice. he mutters as he looks out the window, “don’t push it.”

you smile against his skin, because if he thinks that you can’t feel the kiss he placed on the top of your head then he is sorely mistaken.

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawings @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @dazaisdeathwish @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @sonder-paradise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies @pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @wemma67 @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @anakalana

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[navybrat817]

Pencil You In

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky thinks you've been working too hard and need a break. Word Count: Over 1.3k Warnings: Fluff, crying, reader is tired, slight insecurities, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Partially inspired by an image the beautiful @bucksangel sent me and life stretching me a bit thin, here's a little ficlet. Lovelies, take breaks. You deserve them and you are more than enough! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You slumped in your chair of your home office as you reread the sentence on the screen for what felt like the hundredth time. Weariness had already settled deep in your bones long before you looked over the document, the words blurring together the longer you stared. Blinking a few times didn’t help as you reached for your mug, only to remember that you had finished your extra helping of caffeine an hour ago. Begrudgingly, you set it down and huffed as if it was somehow the fault of the cup that it didn’t automatically fill itself.

“Almost done,” you whispered to yourself, straightening up so you could do one last readthrough.

It was a long week in what felt like a series of long weeks. Almost every minute of your schedule was accounted for lately and all you wanted to do was relax. People were depending on you though and you could relax over the weekend.

Hopefully.

“You should take a break.”

You didn’t turn around immediately at the sound of Bucky’s gentle voice, but you did manage a smile when you glanced over your shoulder a moment later. He didn’t return the smile, concern swirling in his blue irises. You were afraid to stare into the pool of his eyes for too long out of fear of drowning.

And, god, you were drowning. It would be so easy to reach out and take the lifeline that was his hand. To just admit that you need some time to rest because you were tired. Hadn’t you earned it? Didn’t you deserve a break after the hard work you put in?

But maybe you didn’t deserve it. What you did wasn’t as important as someone like Bucky. You firmly shut the door on that thought before the words could make their way out of your mouth. If he could’ve read your mind and known you thought that, it would’ve disappointed him. Not in you, but whoever made you decide that what you did wasn’t enough.

Because you were always expected to do and be more.

“I will in a few minutes,” you said.

He let out a heavy sigh as he crossed his arms, making you tear your gaze away. You didn’t comment on his disheveled hair, like he kept running a hand through it. Likely because he worried about you stretching yourself too thin. “That was what you said a few minutes ago,” he reminded you, his voice light instead of accusatory.

You shut your eyes in the hopes that the tears wouldn’t come and took a breath. “I really will this time,” you promised, giving the document one last readthrough once you got your emotions under control.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he said.

If you wouldn’t take a break for your own sake, you had to do it for Bucky.

“Okay. I think that’s at a good stopping point,” you said, making you saved it before you closed it out. If you lost all of that after everything you put into it so far, you would’ve lost it. Before you could move to the next task on your list though, an alert popped up on your screen. Your heart dropped to your stomach because you didn’t remember scheduling anything else today. You didn’t have the mental or emotional capacity for more. “What is this?” You mumbled before you opened it.

Reading the subject line, you did a double take.

CUDDLE WITH BUCKY

You covered your mouth to smother your giggles. “I don’t remember scheduling this meeting.”

“It’s a good thing I remembered, baby,” he said as you spun around in your chair, sauntering over to you with a smirk as you tried not to laugh again. “It’s a mandatory meeting in our bed. No rescheduling. And I expect it to go the full hour. Maybe longer.”

“How did you manage to set up an alert on my computer?” You asked as he grasped your hands and helped you to your feet, having to steady yourself a bit when your head spun.

At least you remembered to eat. Well, that wasn’t technically true. Bucky brought you your meal earlier because he was the best boyfriend you could ask for.

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” he winked before he brought a palm to your cheek, his gaze shifting to something more serious. “But it seemed to get your attention.”

Your cheeks burned as you averted your gaze. “I wasn’t…” you trailed off, an apology on the tip of your tongue. Had you neglected him this past week? Or the ones before that?

Did he think you were a bad girlfriend?

Bucky slid his hand to your chin so you’d look at him again. “Hey,” he whispered when your lower lip trembled. “I didn’t mean anything by that and I’m not upset with you. I don’t think I could ever be upset with you. But, baby, you’ve been working your ass off even more than usual. I’m so fucking proud of you, but you need to take a real break.”

Your eyes burned, but no tears surfaced as he searched your gaze. “But-”

“What is it you always tell me about work?”

“That it’ll be there tomorrow, but we may not be” you answered, sighing. He was right. You couldn’t let work and expectations others set for you take control of your life. “I told you that the last time you ran yourself ragged with missions.”

He brought his mouth to your forehead to kiss it, his scruff tickling your skin. “And now I’m returning the favor,” he said against your skin. “So, come to bed. Lay with me. Just…”

“Be present,” you finished.

No phones. No work. No outside forces interfering. Just the pleasure of being with each other.

“Exactly,” he said, tugging you by the hand. “C’mon. We’re both late for our meeting.”

“Yes, Sir,” you teased, smiling when he groaned.

“This is a cuddle meeting, but it’ll turn into gently fucking you to sleep if you keep talking like that,” he warned you, pulling you to bed a bit faster.

“You say that like that’s a bad thing,” you smiled, gasping as he gently pushed you onto the mattress.

He braced a hand on each side of your head as he leaned down, his breath fanning your face when you whimpered. “Sex after we cuddle,” he breathed, sending a shiver down your spine. “Then we can cuddle again.”

You leaned up to brush your lips against his. “Deal,” you agreed.

Once he maneuvered you to the middle of the bed, his large body spooning yours, you couldn’t stop the tears that came. You bit your lip so he wouldn’t hear your soft sobs, but he must’ve sensed them as he grazed his nose along your neck affectionately and pulled you closer in his arms. You didn’t realize just how much you needed to be held until then.

It was as if all the stress faded away.

“I really am proud of you. Hardest working woman I know and always taking care of me,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your pulse as more tears hit the pillow.

“Because I love you, Bucky,” you whispered. Who wouldn’t want to take care of someone as amazing as James Buchanan Barnes?

“And I love you, too. So much,” he swore to you, turning you in his arms so he could kiss the tears away. The first kiss lingered on your cheek as he let out a shuddering breath. The sight of you crying likely broke his heart, but he didn’t say anything about it for your sake. “So let me be your personal hero today, okay? Let me take care of you and show that you’re more than enough.”

The words were so heartfelt and touching that you were surprised you didn’t melt on the spot. “You already are,” you promised before his lips met yours.

And he could pencil himself in for cuddles and more whenever he wanted.

I'll say it again, lovelies, you deserve breaks and you are more than enough. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[supershot73199]

Ok I'm back with another dcxdp overprotective Danny fic/prompt. No specific ship for this one.

Though Barbara is there this time.

Barbara couldn't help but smile as she looked at all the little kids in the library doing arts and crafts. She loved seeing all the kids different art projects though if she had to be honest she had a favorite little artist.

"Ms Barbara look look! I drew the Signal he looked so cool on his motorcycle!"

Speak of the devil, the little girl proudly running up to show of her art was named Dawn Nightingale a precious four year old who had mistaken Barbara for her Auntie Jazz the first time they met. (Not that Barbara blamed her she had seen a picture of the girls Aunt and they looked almost identical.)

"That looks wonderful why don't you go pin it to the art wall by the door so everyone can see it?" Barbara said as she looked at the surprisingly well done drawing.

As the four year old ran to do so with a cheer Barbara took a quick look over at the girls father, Danny Nightingale was a single father who from what conversations Barbara had with him had his daughter thrust upon him as a teen and was forced to leave home because of prejudiced parents. Despite this he was a natural father and was doing well to care for her even going so far as to be enrolled in engineering courses at Gotham U even while working full time to support his kid.

The single father was helping some of the younger kids while ignoring the single mothers trying to flirt with him with either practiced grace, or density befitting a black hole.

Before she could go to scare off the more persistent women (for Christs sake some of these women were over a decade older than him) there was a sudden bang as the doors to the library burst open revealed the Joker in all his pasty faced glory.

"Well well what fun! A group art project! It's a good thing I was in the area because now you kiddos get to help with Uncle Jokers art. C'mere brat."

Barbara had hit the panic button on her wheelchair the moment the Joker came through the door but she is not too proud to admit that she froze the moment he reached out and grabbed Dawn who had still been near the door hanging up her picture.

She could see the fear on the child she considered an honorary niece and found it hard to listen to what the demented clown was saying. Not that it mattered as before the Joker finished demanding the library patrons do what he said or else he was suddenly stepping back from the heavy blow that an enraged Danny had dealt.

The Joker having let go of Dawn, who ran to Barbara as soon as she was free, could not even seem to muster a defense as Danny beat him right out the door. Every weapon or gag he tried to pull out was either knocked aside or grabbed and used on him. The last thing Barbara saw before the door swung shut was Danny taking the flag gun the Joker tried to pull out and breaking it on the Jokers face.

With her arms now full of crying toddler Barbara did her best to comfort her and just as soon as she managed to calm her the door opening made her look up only to see Danny walking back in.

"Daddy!" The ballistic missile shaped like a toddler leapt into her fathers arms as he held her close.

"It's OK. It's all good. Daddy won't ever let anyone hurt you OK? There isn't anything in this world or the next that will keep me from you."

Barbara turned from the heartwarming display but only because she heard the door opening again thankfully this time it was Signal walking in Barbara figured he must have already secured the Joker since he didn't seem to be in a rush.

"Hey is everyone OK in here? Any injuries? No ok then I'm going to ask you all to stay in here and stay calm until the GCPD can take statements and get done scraping the Joker off the curb." The nervous undercurrent to Dukes voice should have clued Barbara that something was different but then that last statement hit her. Danny must have knocked the Joker out before coming back inside.

Speaking of Danny he was walking over with a Dawn who had fallen asleep in his arms after crying herself out.

"Hey I wanted to thank you for comforting Dawn. This situation was not something she should have been exposed to and I'm glad that she had someone trustworthy nearby to go to. And I am sorry buy I need to ask you one more favor... do you think you could watch Dawn until my sister gets off work if the cops detain me?"

Barbara couldn't help but double take at that.

"I don't mind but I doubt that will happen." She assured.

"Maybe but I did just stain the street with Jokers brain matter. So it's definitely a non zero chance."

Barbara couldn't help it, she was dumbfounded clearly she was mishearing.

"I'm sorry I must be hearing things, it sounded like you said you killed the Joker."

"Yeah I did. I won't let anyone hurt my family especially not that Steven King reject."

The next couple hours passed in a haze of reassuring parents and answering questions from the police for Barbara.

Thankfully Danny was not detained and was allowed to take Dawn home. Though he did ask Detective Bullock if he needed to be worried about and charges being pressed.

"Haha kid your more likely to get a medal or a holiday for this. Everyone has been hurt by that clown in some way.

Later when she was finally able to get the the clock tower she was unsurprised to find Jason waiting for her there. Clearly he had the same idea that she had, that is using her camera outside the library so that she could see what happened for closure.

The pair watched as this young man beat the Joker back at a different angle than when she saw it earlier that day. But shortly after the door shut she saw it happen so fast a trip over the step with Joker having the wind knocked out of him throwing a loose piece of concrete at the single father who caught it and the proceeded to bash the failed jester until he was unrecognizable.

Jason was the first to break the silence.

"I'm going to need a copy of that video and I suggest you make another one to give to Harley at your next girls night with the sirens."

"Deal but only if you get Alfred to help me cook him thank you meal."

[harunovella]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ safety net; t.f.

synopsis: when toji decided to be a good man and rescue two puppies for his son... content: canon divergence (I want a happy story for the fushiguro's!), fem!reader, reader is mamaguro, in this world your last name is fushiguro and toji took it bc f*ck the zenin, megumi is ur son (he's just a baby!), domestic bliss, not beta read (sorry for any errors!) note: seeing how successful my gojo anthology series is going (only two parts but going strong), I wanted to do one for toji bc I've always wanted to write his story with mamaguro (aka you!) and do a bunch of one shots that can be read as stand alones or together! pls lmk if you want more and if u wanna be tagged in the future <3 p.s. the divine dogs are actual dogs that inspired megumi's later manifestation of his shikigami in this au

It was one of those late nights for Toji. A summer evening with a heavy downpour to blur his path before him. The windshields were moving as fast as they could, swiftly clearing his vision with every wipe across the glass. He was quite used to this, running around town in the wee hours of the night, nothing new to him. It just annoyed him how difficult it could be driving in the rain when his windows fogged up and the headlights could only do so much. 

He wasn't too far from home, running a quick errand before returning to his abode, wanting nothing more than the warmth of his bed. 

A bed... A home...

Toji couldn't help but sigh and lean his head back against the car's headrest. Had this all been a dream? Was it real? Him, Zenin Toji, living a normal life? It had been quite some time now where he left it all behind to be domesticated—as if he were a wild animal. He didn't mind, though, a part of him was begging for a simple kind of life. 

Sat at a red light as his pointer finger tapped away against the leather steering wheel, his eyes wandered the environment around him—well, as much as he could see during an evening shower. From building to building, the empty sidewalks and dim storefronts, his eyes suddenly bounced back to a bus stop. Squinting, he leaned in before turning on his blinkers. 

This was very unlike him, his curiosity getting the best of him... Maybe it was because he was a changed man. Maybe it was because he had someone to go home to. Someone who made his deflated heart triple in size; someond who made him care about little things that he never did before.

Pulling over and parking his car next to the bus stop, Toji pulled up his hoodie and reached for the small umbrella that sat on the floor of the passenger seat. Rushing out and popping open the coverage, he stood before a small, cardboard box. 

It was falling apart, the rain tearing at the flimsy material as the little towel beneath was completely drenched. Hearing the faint whimpers and cries of the tiny creatures that stared up at him, Toji took in a sharp breath and shook his head. He was a good man now. Better than he ever was before. He had a heart. He had a home. He had someone who loved him. These little bodies did not. 

Lifting the box, he quickly maneuvered it underneath the umbrella before carefully placing it in the backseat of his car. "I hope she won't mind..." he said before making his way to the front, closing the umbrella and shutting the door after, resuming his route. 

The drive home was quicker this time around, zooming to gather the bags and box he had within the car, shutting the doors and locking them behind him before he made his way towards the front door. Taking the steps and fumbling with his keys, he unlocked the door and slipped inside before kicking off his shoes and making his way towards the living room. 

Settling the box down before moving towards the kitchen with the bag, he washed his hands and emptied the contents within it. Pulling out the small device, Toji made his way upstairs, ruffling his dark hair as he pressed a few buttons on the gadget. "Babe, this one should be fine," he spoke as he approached one of the two bedrooms. 

"Oh, good," the voice responded as he entered the room. You were sitting on your son's rocking chair, holding him close to your chest as you caressed his little back. He was about six months old and the constant change in weather was getting to him, causing a slight cold to disrupt his immunity. It pained both of you to see your boy anything but happy and healthy... but, he was such a little trooper. Both of you weren't sure where he got his calmness from, seeing as you nor Toji were such a way, but you thanked the heavens for blessing you with a child like him. 

"How's Megs doin'?" Toji asked as he handed you the new thermometer, squatting and gently caressing his son's head. His hand practically engulfed it, always entertaining him how tiny his boy was. It brought a small smile to his face. "Doesn't seem so fussy."

"A bit better, I got him to fall asleep. You weren't gone for too long, thankfully," you sweetly smiled, settling the small device down before caressing Toji's face. "Raining hard, huh?"

"Yeah," he nodded, only to widen his eyes. 

"What is it?" You furrowed your eyebrows. 

Scratching the back of his head, Toji stood up. "Got a surprise along the way... hope you don't mind."

"What do you mean?" You tilted your head. 

"Let's go downstairs," he nudged his own, waving you to follow him. 

Standing up carefully as to not wake your baby boy, you followed your man down the hall and staircase, towards your living room. You were confused at first, unsure as to what surprise he could've gotten you. But then you heard it. The faint cries and rustling coming from a box. The box in front of you. "Toji..."

"You've changed me, y'know?" He said. "I wouldn't have cared back then, would've left them suffer... but, guess it's because I'm a father now and I have you... I couldn't let them die out there..." rubbing the back of his neck as he stood by the box, you curiously peeked over before gasping. "Thought it would be nice to keep 'em... give Megs something to grow with."

"Toji... there's two," you nearly whispered, eyeing the puppies. One in pure white and one in all black, both equally precious. Tiny, scared, cold... you couldn't deny them either, even if you were currently raising your own baby. 

"Yeah..." Toji sighed. "I was thinkin' about giving them a quick bath now and take them to the vet early tomorrow. Don't have much to feed them but we can make it work, right?" He said, keeping his eyes on them, a bit afraid of your reaction. 

As upset as you should've been, seeing as it was two more mouths to feed, instead, you felt... elated? You weren't sure why, maybe it was because you were seeing more and more sides of Toji you didn't think would exist. Or maybe you loved the idea of giving your son two furry best friends to grow with. It could've also been that you were just happy that your son was okay and getting through his cold that you couldn't be as bothered. 

It also didn't help that you may or may not have mentioned a few times (while taking your strolls during your pregnancy) that your little blessing should have some furry friends around. You just didn't think it would happen... this way. 

"So?" Toji asked, looking at you with timid eyes. "Can we keep 'em?"

"Toji," you chuckled. "I'm not going to abandon these poor babies. You brought them here, you're gonna have to do a lot of raising. You're now a father of three," you teased as he nodded. 

"I'm well aware."

"I'm surprised you're okay with this, let alone, brought them," you pointed out. 

Shrugging, he looked back down. "Like I said, it's cause you changed me and I'm a father now. As scary as that is... I dunno... guess I want that normal life and normal people have dogs, right?" Seeing you nod with a small smile, Toji couldn't help but reflect your facial expression. "I wanna give him everything I've never had," he nudged his head in Megumi's direction. 

"Such a good dad," you softly spoke, caressing your sons back before stepping closer and kissing Toji's arm. "Then I guess we have two puppies now. What should we name them?"

Eyeing the two, Toji hummed. "Kuro and Shiro."