#And I was like its hard to explain what it is but its got teeth

[nickfowlerrr]

if i could - 3

pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader

warnings: bit of sad bucky. cuteness overload. reader overthinking like it’s her job. yearning. all kinds of feels. uhhhh that’s it i think!

words: 5.7k

notes: repost because apparently i accidentally deleted the original sometime ago 🥲

series masterlist / previous chapter / next chapter

You woke up startled and alert to the sound of your front door opening then closing.

It took you a second to calm your racing heart, let your brain truly catch up, and take in your surroundings. You weren’t on the couch, but rather laying in your bed.

And Bucky wasn’t next to you.

You felt a twinge in your heart but told yourself it was simply the rush of anxiety you had just experienced. You heard footsteps coming up the stairs toward your bedroom and shot up, looking toward the door as it opened. You must have looked startled, and maybe a bit scared, because when Bucky’s eyes met yours, he immediately looked sheepish and sorry as he spoke softly,

“Sorry, I thought you’d still be asleep,” he explained with a light nervous chuckle.

“Just woke up,” you grumbled, sleep still evident in your voice. “What time is it?”

“Almost eight. I brought you up here about an hour ago. Steve called and woke me up, I just got off the phone with him.”

“Outside?” you asked, “Isn’t it freezing?”

“Eh, I run hot,” he shrugged with a crooked grin.

“Mmhm,” you eyed him as you made your way out of the bed. “And what was so important that he called you at 7 in the morning?”

“Ah. That’s classified information, sweetheart,” he responded smoothly.

“Ugh,” you rolled your eyes at him as you walked into your ensuite bathroom and he followed just behind you.

“Any plans for today?” he asked as he watched you grab your toothbrush from its holder and handed you the tube of toothpaste you had left on the counter.

“Not really. Why?”

“Would you be up for getting your tree today? I’m going to be heading to the compound this weekend instead of next week. Steve’s planning this whole Christmas vacation thing and he wants to get started right away. Plus he’s worried I’ll end up snowed in with the storm heading this way and won’t make it.”

You hadn’t really realized Christmas was so soon. Normally you would have had all your decorations up at the end of November at the latest but it was two weeks until Christmas and you had barely started going through your boxes. You knew Bucky had his own life, too, but you couldn’t help the disappointment you felt when you realized he was leaving so soon. And you had been trying to avoid the feelings you knew would be hitting you any day now. That you had nowhere to go for Christmas this year. That you’d be alone. The idea, in theory, didn’t sound too bad to you. But you knew when the day came, it’d be hard to find yourself truly alone during what used to be your favorite time of year. Did you even have a favorite time of year anymore? This past year had been absolute hell and you couldn’t recall a time you’d been truly happy since before losing your family. Well, until yesterday.

Yesterday, you had to admit, was a really good day. All these thoughts flew through your mind so quickly - and you responded to Bucky right away without even really thinking.

“Yeah, sure. When do you wanna go?” you asked before starting to brush your teeth.

“I’m gonna head to my place and get ready then I’ll come pick you up. Around ten?”

“Mkay,” you said through the suds of toothpaste in your mouth before spitting the excess into the sink and looking at him.

“Okay,” he laughed as he smiled widely at you and began to back away. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t miss me too much,” he joked over his shoulder as he walked out of your room and headed downstairs.

You were glad he couldn’t see you because his words had a very evident effect on you. You shook your head and returned to brushing your teeth before finishing getting ready.

It was 9:57am when the obnoxious sound of Bucky’s horn started blaring through the air. You had just finished putting your shoes on when he pulled up. You couldn’t help the eye roll you gave as you heard his horn - it was essentially a habit at this point. Grabbing your bag and keys and putting on your coat, you walked out into the cold morning air before turning and locking your door behind you. You practically ran to his car that had just come to a stop before opening the passenger door and throwing yourself in. He looked at you bewildered and laughed.

“If you had given me a second, I was gonna get the door for you.”

“It’s freezing cold out there,” you said through chattering teeth as you rubbed your gloveless hands together.

“You’re being a little dramatic, don’t you think?” he continued.

“Excuse me?” you said incredulously. “Just because you ‘run hot’ doesn’t mean everyone else in the world does, too,” you spoke as you adjusted the level of the seat warmer and Bucky turned up the heater even more.

“Yeah, yeah. Just give it a second, you’ll be warm in no time,” he replied as he began to drive out to the Christmas Tree farm.

You recalled last year when you and Bucky had driven to the farm and how excited you were. You had a really great time together and you remembered thinking how happy you both were. So carefree and looking forward to the holiday. You were always looking forward to being with Bucky. And as you sat next to him in his car, you knew you had never stopped. Bucky was always on your mind and in your heart, whether you wanted to admit it or not.

He pulled you out of your thoughts as he turned to look at you and found you already staring at him. You quickly sat up further in your seat and turned to face and look out the windshield.

“Eyes on the road, Barnes.”

You didn’t look over at him, but you knew he was smirking as you felt his eyes still on you.

“How do you plan on fitting three trees on your car, anyway?” you asked, trying to shift the focus off of you.

“I don’t. We’re only getting one. Figured I don’t really need to put up much of any decorations now if I’m going to be gone for the rest of the month.”

“That makes sense,” you agreed, “Really a waste of money yesterday, then. All those decorations you got,” you laughed as you finally decided to look at him again.

“There’s always next year,” he said and his words charged something in you. Grief? Bitterness? You weren’t sure.

“You don’t know that,” you said harshly, instantly regretting opening your mouth. Bucky looked over to you and you could feel his concern though he didn’t say much in response for the moment. After sitting in your quiet, you quickly realized how uncalled for your response was.

“Sorry, I don’t- I don’t know why I said that… like that,” you tried to apologize. You spoke quietly but you knew he heard you.

He shook his head at you,

“You don’t have to apologize to me. I understand. Trust me,” he said as he reached for your hand to hold in his as he steered with his left, “I get it.”

You didn’t attempt to avoid his touch and so you let him squeeze your hand in his before he let go and returned to steering with both hands. You hated when people touched you, but it was different with Bucky. It was always different with him. His touch was comforting and didn’t make you feel so pathetic or crazy.

“Maybe you can take a set of ornaments off my hands? Put them to good use so they don’t have to sit in a container for another year. They’re really nice ornaments, they deserve to be on a nice tree,” he smiled.

“You’re so lame,” you laughed at him.

Before you knew it, you were pulling into the open lot in front of the farm. There were a few cars there already, but it wasn’t nearly as packed as it normally was. Probably because most people already had their trees up and decorated. You were slightly relieved though, the less people, the better as far as you were concerned.

“Here, put these on,” Bucky started as he handed you a pair of gloves from the center console.

“Thanks,” you said as you both made your way out of the car.

The owners of the farm were right outside the entrance waiting to greet you. They were a nice older couple and you remembered them from the previous year as well. The woman had made a comment about how cute of a couple you and Bucky were and had walked away to help a family get their tree paid for before you could correct her. You remembered how embarrassed you felt and the genuine smile Bucky had on his face when you bashfully looked up at him. You had bumped him with your shoulder and walked further down the path to the line of trees in front of him trying to hide your hopeful smile.

“Hey there, folks,” the woman greeted. “Oh, wait a minute, I remember you two! Last year you walked around the trees for two hours before you finally decided on two. You know what’s so funny is, and I know I don’t know you, but we only have so many faces come through here every year, and you guys always do, this is what year three now? I just feel like I know you two. Anyway, I was convinced last year that you were gonna pop the question to this little sweetheart. I’m so glad to see you’re still together. Just the sweetest couple I’ve ever seen, don’t you think Henry?” the older woman ranted on as you two stood before her and her husband. You felt your face flush and the man, Henry, turned to his wife and spoke,

“Helen, you’re embarrassing the poor girl,” he laughed in good humor.

“Oh, you’re right. I’m sorry, darling,” she said to you. “I don’t mean anything by it. Just that I recognize two familiar faces and I’m always glad to see returning customers, especially the ones who stick out to me.” she smiled genuinely while looking between you two.

You didn’t know what to say. Honestly. You weren’t sure you wanted to burst her bubble and tell her that you and Bucky weren’t a couple but you also didn’t want to not say anything and cause any issues between you and Bucky should you just let it go. Before you could speak, Bucky did.

“No need to apologize, ma’am. We love this place, look forward to it every year. It’s like our tradition. And we appreciate how much care and attention you pay to everyone who comes through here. It makes getting a tree feel more special,” he said as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side.

“Aw, well, thank you for saying that, honey! We take a lot of pride in our little farm. And it’s the folks like you who make it worth it every year.” Helen said as Henry grabbed a saw and handed it to Bucky.

“You two have fun, now. You need some help putting your tree on your car, just let us know when you get back here,” Henry said with a smile.

“Thank you,” you said kindly as your hand moved to hold Bucky’s that was still around your shoulder. The older couple walked off to greet a small family who had just arrived behind you and when you looked up to Bucky and opened your mouth to ask him what he was doing, he started talking before you could.

“I know, I know. But you saw her face, we couldn’t deny her. If she knew we weren’t together it would have ruined her Christmas, I’m sure of it,” he said adamantly as he nonchalantly squeezed your hand in his while you approached the gorgeous pines. You couldn’t help but laugh at his words.

“I actually kind of agree with you,” you said as you pulled his hand from your shoulder and let it drop from your grasp. You saw the hurt on his face as he looked down at you, but he didn’t say anything and quickly schooled his expression, moving to shove his hands in his pockets.

“So, what size are you thinking this year?” he asked you. You appreciated the way he didn’t push you or try to continue with the previous topic, though you were sure he had more to say. You let it go, though, and allowed your mind to come back to the task at hand.

“Ya know. Like, a normal size,” you shrugged. “Can’t be too tall or I won’t be able to reach the top. But too small wouldn’t look very nice with the open living room, it needs to fill the space. And preferably little to no bare spaces.”

“I forgot how judgy you are about christmas trees,” he scoffed.

“I’m not judgy, okay. I just think if you’re gonna go through the effort of finding a tree, cutting it down, putting it up in your home, and then decorating it instead of just buying a fake pre-decorated tree, it should look the way you want it to look.” you responded as you examined the pines in front of you.

“Mhm. Well how about this one,” he asked as he ushered you to a tree a few plots down from where you were standing. “It’s a good height. Looks pretty full,” he suggested.

“Yeah, maybe. But I wanna keep looking, just to be sure I don’t miss out.”

“Miss out? What would you be missing out on? This tree checks all your boxes,” he said matter of factly.

“I don’t know. What if there’s a tree I like better further down? I wouldn’t know if I didn’t look.”

“But you wouldn’t need to know if you already had this tree, because you’d have your tree?” He said, trying to understand your thought process. Your thought process, which, by the way, made little sense even to you. You had a perfect tree right in front of you, but you couldn’t let yourself commit to it. You couldn’t shake the thought of there being a tree that you’d like better. And it almost stressed you out to think that you could miss out on it, even if it possibly didn’t exist. It was a theoretical tree you were talking about, here. A theoretical perfect tree vs an actual physical real life tree which was admittedly, perfect for your house. Because, what if the theoretical tree did exist? You’d never know if you didn’t look. But again, why would you need to look when you had the perfect tree literally right in front of you. It didn’t make sense. You knew that, but you couldn’t admit it out loud. So instead you just kept walking.

“We literally just got here, I want to look around more,” you whined with annoyance.

“Fine, but don’t start complaining when we come back around for this tree and it’s gone,” he warned as you continued away from him.

You knew you definitely would start complaining should the tree end up being gone but you also really didn’t want to be done at the farm yet. The walking around was the best part and though you wouldn’t tell Bucky, you wanted to spend more time with him. Once you had your tree and he inevitably helped you get it in your living room, you knew he’d head back to his place to pack for his trip and the next thing you knew he’d be gone for the rest of the month.

You slowed your pace and then stopped walking entirely until Bucky eventually caught up beside you.

Pursing your lips, you looked to him and said regretfully, “We should have gotten coffee before we walked over here.”

“Oh my god,” he bemoaned exaggeratedly, “we really should have.” With that he turned and started heading toward the quaint little christmas shop that was part of the farm.

They sold coffee, hot chocolate, fudge, peanut brittle, and various knick knacks and Christmas decorations. It was also the area where you would pay for your tree on the way out.

You scurried behind him laughing to yourself and then entered the warm and inviting shop as he held the door for you.

Bucky walked up to the counter and ordered your drinks while you walked around looking at the individual ornaments. You didn;t realize Bucky had walked up behind you while you were examining fondly a delicate porcelain angel ornament. He stood closer to you causing you to look up at him. With the way he was looking at you, something akin to admiration and curiosity, you had the instinct to put down the ornament and turn from him. You didn’t though, because there was another part of you, the not so terribly insecure part, that wanted to share with him why it had caught your eye. So you did. Looking back down at the ornament in your hand, you held it up so he could see it better.

“My mom had so many ornaments like these. They were her favorite. She always made sure they went on the tree every year. My sister dropped one once and we weren’t allowed to touch any of the rest of them while we finished decorating the tree that night,” you smiled softly at the memory, “I always wondered where she got them. They’re really beautiful. Even as a kid, ya know, I knew they were pretty and they obviously meant a lot to her, but I didn’t truly appreciate them until I got older.”

“It’s definitely beautiful,” he said as he was looking at you, “You should get it. Start your own collection,” he suggested as he continued to stare at you affectionately.

“Yeah, I think I will,” you agreed. Bucky’s name was called from the counter and he walked over to get the drinks while you took the ornament and went toward the register, but not before another ornament caught your eye. You couldn’t help the grin that spread on your face as you looked over the assorted Avengers themed ornaments.

They looked like something you would find on Etsy, they looked hand drawn - each one a beautiful and realistic portrait on it. They each had a different avenger on them and as you sorted through them, you found the one you were looking for. You weren’t sure there would be one for him, but once you saw his face so beautifully sketched on the orb, you grabbed it and brought it up to the counter with you. You paid for the ornaments and found Bucky having a conversation with some guy near the door. For someone with a metal arm, Bucky really didn’t get recognized all that often. And you had a feeling, even when he did, most people were too wary of him to come up or say anything at all. As you approached the two men, Bucky’s back to you, you heard part of the conversation.

“His name is Buddy. He’s right outside with my wife and daughter. I really don’t want to intrude on your day, but it would mean the world to him. He looks up to you, you’re his favorite hero. I actually can’t believe I’m running into you right now. This is crazy. But I mean- would you mind? If not, I completely understand but it’d make his Christmas to meet you.” the younger man said.

“Wo- uh- sure, yeah. I’d - I’d be happy to,” Bucky sounded almost shocked as he responded.

“Great! Thank you so much, I’m gonna get him right now. Thank you!” the man said excitedly as he turned to exit the shop.

“What’s that about?” you asked curiously as Bucky turned to face you.

“I uh,” before he could finish, the door opened again and a little boy about 4 years old entered in front of the man, obviously his dad.

“Look who it is, Buddy.,” his dad prompted the boy who stood in front of Bucky with eyes wide of wonder and amazement.

“You’re my hero,” was all the boy could say as his eyes filled with tears. He ran up to Bucky’s leg and grabbed hold of it and you could feel your eyes starting to water at the sight. It was the sweetest thing you’d ever seen.

It made it all the more impactful as you recalled a conversation you had with Bucky a while ago. He was talking about the school event he had just got back from with Steve and Sam and how terrible he felt about it. How he felt he didn’t belong there.

“I’m not a hero. Not really. Not like Sam and Steve, you know? And those kids, it was like they knew I didn’t belong there, either. They looked… scared of me.” He had said quietly as you both sat out on his porch looking at the stars.

It had been a long night full of meaningful conversation and you remembered telling him how wrong he was about himself. He didn’t agree but you refused to leave until you were sure he wouldn’t beat himself up for the rest of the night. You had turned to him, looked him straight in the eyes and said with complete sincerity, “You’re a hero to me, Bucky.”

The look he returned to you was nothing short of wonder … and gratitude. “You don’t have to say that,”

“No, I don’t have to. But you should know that. I want you to know that.” you said softly. You could even recall the anticipation you felt as he leaned in closer to you, for a moment you had thought he was going to kiss you. But instead he wrapped his arms around you as you did the same. “I dont think you know how much that means to me, Y/N.” he breathed. You spent another hour or so out there before you finally went home for the night.

You had spent quite a few nights that way, actually. Just sitting and talking. You had missed moments like that.

You came back to yourself as the boy pulled back from Bucky and tried to tug up the sleeve of his puffy jacket before turning around and calling, “Dad! Help me get it off, please,”

His dad took the jacket from him and helped him pull up the sleeve of this shirt to reveal his own prosthetic arm.

“I’m strong like you, see!” the boy said to Bucky who was now kneeling down before the little guy.

His smile was wide and beautiful as ever as he talked to him. “I do see. That’s a pretty cool arm you got there, kid,” he said.

“Can I see yours?” the boy asked hopefully.

“Yeah, sure thing,” Bucky said straight away, though you could sense his slight hesitation as he stood to remove his own jacket. You took it from him without him asking and he then went to remove his left glove and roll up his long sleeve. Buddy looked on as Bucky knelt back down to show him his arm.

“Wow. When I get older, I wanna be like you. I’m gonna fight the bad guys and have a cool arm and my- my best friend Sammy is gonna be like Captain America and we’re gonna beat the bad guys and be avengers too,” he spoke in the adorable voice that most every 4 year old speaks with, all out of breath and sweetly spoken.

Bucky and Buddy spoke for another few minutes as you and Buddy’s family both looked on.

They took a picture together, and you made sure to snap one on your phone as Buddy’s parents did the same. They thanked him over and over and Buddy made sure to give Bucky another hug before they left.

Bucky turned to you and as he looked into your eyes, you saw all the emotions that he was going through. His eyes looked glassy and you didn’t hesitate to walk closer and pull him into the tightest hug you could manage while still holding his jacket, your purse, and the bag of ornaments. He returned the hug gratefully as he rested his chin on your head.

“I told you you were a hero, Barnes,” you reminded him, “And that was quite possibly the cutest interaction I have ever seen,” you went on.

Bucky laughed and let you go as you moved to back away. He took his jacket from your arms and put it back on.

“I saw you take that picture, by the way. I better not hear about it from anyone at the compound. I know about that secret group chat you all were in last year - you helped them plan that surprise party for my birthday,”

“You knew about that?! I worked so hard keeping you from catching on,” you complained.

“Oh you did your part, I found the chat on Steve’s phone when he asked me to help him send a text to Nat before they finally got together. Poor guy didn’t have a clue, but I still acted surprised at the party because I’m a good friend,”

“Mm, the best,” you affirmed with a smirk. “Let’s go get that tree before someone else does,” you added.

Walking back, you grabbed your drinks that had been left on the counter and handed Bucky’s to him as he led the way out of the shop. He grabbed the saw he had left leaning against the storefront with a line of others and you walked back to where the tree was, but Bucky walked past it and raised a brow at you when he realized you were just staring at him confused and not following him.

“Did you or did you not say that you wanted to walk around more?” he sassed.

“Oh,” was all you said in response as you walked toward him and sipped on your drink.

You walked and talked for longer than you had planned before finally circling back around to the tree. You held Bucky’s empty cup with yours while he cut the tree down with ease and carried it back to the car like it was nearly weightless. You threw the cups away and went back inside the shop to get your tree paid for. By the time you made your way back to Bucky’s car, he had the car on getting warmed up and the tree tied securely to the roof as he leaned against the passenger door waiting for you. He opened the door for you as you approached and helped you in before shutting you in and walking around to the driver’s side.

You spent the drive back to your place talking about nothing and everything and for a second it felt like old times again. As he pulled up to your driveway, you realized you’d have to say goodbye soon and then you’d be alone again. You tried not to dwell on it and grabbed your stuff before getting out and heading to your front door while Bucky got the tree down.

“You have the tree stand out already?” He shouted as you opened your door. You gave him a thumbs up and walked down the hallway to grab the stand from the box it was sat in. You placed it in the corner of the living room, off to the side of the tv and next to the wall. Bucky came in behind you and you helped him get the tree properly in the holder before standing and taking your gloves and jacket off, putting them on the coffee table where your purse and bag laid.

“Thank you, Bucky. I really appreciate the help,” you started as you handed him his gloves. “And spending time with you, I- uhm- I think I kind of really needed it.” you confessed quietly while looking down at your fidgeting hands.

“I’m always here for you, you know that, right?” he asked as he gently grasped your chin and lifted your face up to look at him. You didn’t say anything, just nodded as he looked into your eyes. He smiled softly at you before dropping his hand and backing away ever so slightly to give you space. “I’ve really missed you, doll.”

“I’m s- I - yeah. I- I’ve missed you, too.”

“When I get back, I’ll help you take it down. And I’ll be expecting those cookies, too,” he joked as he started toward the door. “I should go pack now. I’m driving out tomorrow, gonna try and beat the storm.”

“Sure,” you nodded. “Drive safe. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” he echoed, then walked out the door shutting it behind him.

You took a second and decided to just let your body do what it felt like doing…

You rushed after him, stopping him as he started down the steps. You didn’t say anything, just wrapped your arms around him and buried your head into his chest as he returned your hug. You suddenly felt tears threatening to rise and willed them away as you two embraced.

“Seriously, drive safe. The reports are saying it’s supposed to start getting really bad tonight,” you said into his chest.

“I know, I will,” he reassured you.

“Okay,” you responded.

You slowly let him go with a small “Bye,” which he returned in kind. You watched him get into his car and gave him a wave as he drove away before walking back into the warmth of the cabin that you called home.

It was still the afternoon but you really didn;t feel like decorating the tree right then. Instead you turned on the television and put on a movie you’d seen at least a hundred times. You made yourself a grilled cheese and then found yourself slowly nodding off while laying on the couch.

You quite literally had no obligations for the remainder of the year and the only thing you kinda sorta had to get done was your decorating and that could absolutely wait another day. You were feeling so many emotions at once and it was honestly draining you. You didn’t fight to stay awake much longer and resigned yourself to a nap. It was maybe an hour later that you woke up because you were freezing.

You got up to put your heater on and as you looked out the window, you were shocked at the look of the sky and the amount of snow that had fallen in the short time since you got home. You knew it was just going to get worse and found yourself worrying again about Bucky driving all the way to the compound from here in that weather.

You spent the rest of the day putting off decorating and just lounged around until night finally fell. You dressed in your warmest pajamas and headed to bed right before midnight. You slept peacefully while dreaming about Christmas’ past and then about a Christmas future with Bucky.

Quite literally a dream.

But you woke up the next morning with tears streaming down your face.

You had been dreaming about a christmas party with your family and friends and Bucky and it was magical and wonderful, until you realized that your family wasn’t actually there. They were just memories playing out around you and when you turned to Bucky searching for some kind of stability or comfort, he was walking out the door as everyone else around you had disappeared as well.

You were left alone crying to yourself as your every emotion threatened to shut you down.

You wiped at your eyes as you pulled yourself further from sleep and dragged yourself out of bed. You went to your bathroom and threw water on your face before looking in the mirror. You shook off the sadness that was clouding you and proceeded to get ready for the day. Not that you had anything to do or anywhere to go, but habit is habit.

You checked the weather and almost couldn’t believe how much it had advanced in less than 24 hours. You looked outside and figured you might be snowed in by the night. You almost wanted to call Bucky and see where he was, but didn’t want to risk causing a distraction for him if he was driving. Especially in such bad conditions.

You waddled your way downstairs and put on your kettle before getting out your heart shaped waffle maker that you had gotten for your birthday. Your morning passed slowly as you ate your breakfast and drank your tea, watching Psych play on the tv from where you sat in the kitchen.

You put away your dishes and then walked down the hall to the boxes of decorations you had waiting to be put up. You almost didn’t even bother. Truly, what was the point? You were alone for Christmas and would decorating help you at all or just make you more sad?

Instead of leaving them, you decided to at least put lights up on the tree. Bucky had taken the time to drive you and cut the tree down for you. The least you could do for the holiday would be to decorate it. You dragged the box of lights behind you and set it next to the tree before sitting down on the couch.

As you sat there, you debated getting up or just watching tv on the couch for a while. Every move you made seemed to take a lot out of you. You just wanted to lie there and nothing more.

You decided not to force yourself to do anything for the moment and just sat there watching another episode. That episode turned into another and then another and then you had to pee. You got up and used the restroom before returning to the kitchen and grabbing your water bottle, filling it up and chugging water which you had neglected to do all day. It was nearing 7pm, you noticed as you glanced at the time on the stove before making your way back to the couch.

You were stopped, however, by the sudden knocking on your front door.

[the-cooler-king]

I think im going to get a satyr from God of war 1 on my leg. I hate them so much, they make me want to cry whenever I play the game. 👌

[messenger-of-babel]

Just Like Him

Summary: When you argue with Jason, you slowly start seeing less of Jason Todd and more of Bruce Wayne. (Jason Todd x reader)

Word Count: 1.9K

Notes: I legit came back home from a night out and sat here editing this till 3am cause I refused to miss a post haha. A little bit shorter due to that and I'll do a second look over it later. Only warning for this is mentions of violence as usual for most of these, and that it hasn't been as edited cleanly as usual. Tomorrow's post might be really delayed too since I've got events tomorrow too. Anyways, enjoy my Lovelies~! xx

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You had loved Jason. You did love Jason.

You loved the boy who was too awkward to hold your hand when you went out in public, who left you notes at your door when he was too frustrated and too pent up to explain himself properly. You loved his habits, his quirks, the way that he cooked you food if he knew he was going to be out for a few days, silently leaving it in the fridge in the hopes you’d keep yourself healthy.

You also loved the dark sides of him, the nightmares he woke up to, skin sticky with sweat. You loved him even when his eyes were lost in the darkness, unable to tell who you were exactly but still seeking the comfort of your arms to shield him. You loved him even when he tensed outside in public, a sound, a smell, setting him off and making him clench onto your hand. His eyes were scared, but you didn’t mind bringing him back into reality, letting him know that you were here for him. 

Yet on nights like these, you love for him faltered slightly. These were the nights that you couldn’t temper, the ones here he burned angrily and bit hard. He was currently pacing the kitchen, hands in his hair after a rough patrol. 

“You just don’t understand.” He murmured over and over. “Maybe you just don’t get it. Maybe you just never will. How could you even try to?” 

That hurt you, the way he talked like you weren’t even there. Like you weren’t in tears on the other side of the kitchen island. Like you hadn’t been having this argument for an hour how, sunset drinking its way into the dusk. 

This was the part of Jason that hurt you, the coarse side that snarled and growled at you like he was an injured dog. The side that looked at you with those striking green eyes narrowed into slits, who spat words like he’d never seen you before.

“I do understand Jason.” I you sigh. “You want to protect this city, you want to change Gotham, but don’t you dare tell me what I know or don’t, when I’m asking you to just be home more. Is it really that hard to protect the city and go out for a date?” You sigh, heart beginning to falter under the scrutiny of his gaze. “I know you can’t always be there. Neither can I, but please,” you say, folding your arms across your chest. “Please be there for me.”

“I am.” He groans back out, making a flicker of irritation spark in you. 

“Not you’re not.” You counter. “You leave dates, you leave dinners, you don’t come home some nights. No warning, no text, no notice.” You snap back.  “Being there for me is being at those dinners, going on those dates, coming home, spending time in bed with me.” You snap. "it's not cold sheets, cold food, cold feet on date nights. Step up."

He throws his hands up in the air, teeth clenched. "Can't you see I'm trying to save the city? trying to stop it from eating itself from the inside? You know its corrupted, you know about the violence. Hell, you got shot." he snaps back. His fists are tightly clenched by his side, eyes burning into yours. You stare back at him defiantly, and it makes the frustration in him rise.

He knows he's not good at words, knows that he's rough around the edges. The voice in his head tells him that when he sits up at night, when he finally comes home. His head leans back against the headboard whole you sleep peacefully beside him, rolled completely onto your side. His fingers twist in the sheets, as it speaks at him, tells him that he's not good enough to be with you. That the city isn't safe enough, that he needs to make it safer. He wasn’t the safest out of Batman's gang of protegees. He had a hit list that had started while he was just a young teenager and continued to have names added every other week. He'd been shot at, stabbed, thrown into and off of buildings, and that was something he was fine with. that was his job, his burden.

But when you got shot, that's when life really had caught up with him. It was like he had been living his life in slow motion up until that point, until it all rushed forward like a wave on double speed. He hadn't erven been there, halfway across town with Nightwing on some stakeout when he got the call. Dick had let him go without a word, merely watching him speed away on his bike before calling in backup from the cave to replace him. He didn't care that Bruce would get mad at him for abandoning his post, he could go to hell. What he cared about was you, and the fact that he hadn't been able to protect you, been able to stop it from happening. He heard about it only when the hospital called him, informing him that you were being prepped for surgery immediately.

How bad was it? Was it just one shot? Did it go cleanly through? Where were you hit? What calibre? What make? What model? Where did it take place?

Those were all questions that Red Hood might have been allowed to ask if he had worn the mask and marched through the emergency department, but he couldn’t do that. If he did it would be a giant target on your back, associating you with his vigilante life in the most obvious way possible. Instead, he had to race through the doors breathless as Jason Todd, the worried boyfriend who had to be held back by security trying to get to your ward.

 You had of course recovered, learnt to walk again on the leg that caught a stray bullet from a gang shoot out in Lower Gotham. It had been worryingly close to your artery, but you had pulled through. Jason couldn’t deny the fact that his status as a Wayne kid helped your care and the way the hospital aided your recovery. With a harsh word, Jason could have any of their licenses revoked.

That's why Jason did it. To make sure that the fear that gripped his heart that night never had the chance to wrangle him like that again. He'd fight night after night and come home with a string of broken and bloodied knuckles if it meant that you would be okay. It's all he can think about as he stares you down in the kitchen, watching your jaw twitch.

"Don't you dare use the fact that I got shot, against me." you seethe, hand coming up to point at him. "That wasn’t my fault, and it could have happened to anyone in the town, it's Gotham, Jason." you bite back, and he throws his hands up.

"That's exactly the problem! It's Gotham." he shouts. "You can get shot, or stabbed, or killed. Anyone can. one day you're here, the next you ain't. You really want to go out there, sweetheart? You got shot and you want to tell me not to clean the streets up? The sheets are cold? Well, they'd be a lot colder if you were dead." he spits back, and you are too stunned to say anything. You shake your head, a look of realisation coming over you.

"Oh my god," you breathe out. "you're just like Bruce. You’re no better."

That makes something in his freeze, halting all of his movements and shutting down his train of thought. You see it, see the way his bright green eyes widen and his head tilts slightly, making the white tuft in his hair flop over his eyes as you continue. "You're so obsessed with cleaning up the city. So obsessed with fighting out there that you can't give it up even for a second. You both can't. You criticize the man, tore him apart for his neglect just to do the exact same god damn thing.” Tears begin to prick your eyes in helplessness, lump building in your throat.

"You can’t see yourself out of that stupid helmet." you say, choking up as the tears clog your vision. "When was the last time that you read?" you ask, sniffling. "When was the last time you did a hobby, or rode your bike as a civilian? When's the last time we went on a date or held hands, or went to the park, or the library or anywhere?" you yell at him, hand coming to claw at your heart.

"When was the last time you were Jason?" you whisper softly. "Because right now, I feel like Jason Todd has died for a second time." you choke out. "Except this time, it wasn’t Joker who killed him."

You wipe your eyes with your sleeve while you leave him stunned, pushing past him to go into your bedroom. When the door slams harshly it snaps him out of the stupor he had found himself in, body swivelling on his heel immediately to follow you.

 You didn't respond to his soft knocking at the door, or his calls. You didn’t accept the apologies he murmured into the wood, didn't bother to listen to his promises or ways that he swore he could make it better. It was only when he began knocking desperately, worrying building, that you swung it open violently.

Your face is a mess, sticky with tears and chin wet. Your breath comes out in small hiccups as you try to collect yourself, still mid sob as you shout at him. "Couch." you seethe, your puffy eyes glaring at him with a hurt filled dagger before the door slammed in his face. He sighed, forehead against the wood before pushing off the door frame with a click of his tongue. He plops down onto the living room couch with a groan, legs thrown over the side to try and accommodate for his size. He raises an arm to cover his eyes, other arm grabbing a couch cushion and bringing it to his chest.

"You're just like Bruce, no better." rattled around in his skull, making him chew at his lip. He didn’t like that. He didn’t like being compared to Bruce, even if he respected the man at times. He had come back, intending to be everything for others that Bruce had failed to be for him. Yet according to you, he was walking the same steps the man before him had traced.

Was he really no better than Bruce?

He groans and removes his arm from his eyes. He casts them over to the turned off TV, catching the sight of a much younger Robin peering back at him. With a smile the boy took off the domino mask and revealed the childish figure that was young Jason Todd. He raises a hand to his face as well, mirroring what he had just seen the reflection do. Except when he pulled his hand away, studying the digits instead of the TV screen, he could still see the remnants of the Hood he failed to leave at the door.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hello! First i loved the reader + cannibal works you did.

Second, you could write small or big idk pieces of reader and him having their bond and seeing others react to it. It would be funny to see some of them go "excusme this not high blood claimed CANNIBAL?"

And Cannibal just there like "its my human, shut up before i eat you"

Also, HC that Cannibal would totally take the reader to a different place since he finds the rest of humans so 🙄🙄🙄🙄 and 100% sure he was touched when reader bowed to him :,)

Cannibal will always be my favourite dragon, Balerion coming a close second but come on! A dragon who never had a rider cuz no one was worthy?! Imagine the history you’d make when claiming this absolute unit!

You wouldn’t say that you claimed Cannibal like most people have assumed, if anything you’d describe what you and the behemoth mad was more of a connection, a bond that went deeper then that of dragon and rider. It was rather difficult thing to explain to people because the only people who would understand had a hard time themselves coming to terms with the fact that someone without a single trace of Valyrian blood in their body had accomplished what many could not; claim Cannibal.

You truly believed that everyone had the ability to be a dragon rider but the unfortunate reality was that half of them ever would was incredibly rare. So for those that were dragon riders, it was the highest honour imaginable and you were now one of them!

Your bond with Cannibal was unlike any other, it was almost as if this spark, this fire, connecting the two of you to a point where you didn’t know when you began and where Cannibal ended. You could sense Cannibal’s distrust for all humans, especially those who had Valyrian blood running through their veins no matter how small it may be, he hated them all as equally as he did the other humans. With you however Cannibal harboured a deep possessiveness over you. You were his rider after all and he didn’t like it when people like Aemond, Daemond or Rhaenyra got anywhere within distance of you and would blow fire at them without an ounce of hesitation.

‘Cannibal.’ You hissed after Cannibal tried to roast Rhaenyra alive for merely touching your arm in congratulations. The dragon only kept his piercing green eyes on the silver haired woman in red next to you, looking at her with hostility and contempt.

‘It is..quite alright my dear.’ Rhaenyra tried to console you but the daggers your dragon was driving into her back was enough for her to take a step back, she had the blood of the dragon and therefore didn’t fear them but Cannibal was a dragon of unpredictability and therefore must be treated with caution. ‘No harm done.’ She flashes you a smile before departing back to the castle. You sighed before looking at your behemoth of a dragon whose eyes dilated upon seeing you finally pay attention to him, his tail wagging slightly behind him.

‘You are more than your worth sometimes.’ You murmur as you scratched his head before swiftly mounting him as he flew you both off of DragonStone and elsewhere where you wouldn’t be disturbed, but you couldn’t help but thank moments like those that were just for yourself and your dragon as you do tend to get tired of getting asked the same shit ten times over. Yet you swore you had claimed an antisocial cat instead of a dragon whose whole reputation was eating dragons, humans and dragon eggs alike. This was merely one example of how possessive Cannibal got, it was far worse when it was a man like Aemond, then that’s when Cannibal became far more hostile than usual.

For the moment the dragon saw the one eyed prince approach you, his tail immediately shielded you from view while roaring at the prince to fuck off back to his fossil of a dragon, huffing smoke from his nostrils and baring his teeth. ‘I’m going to call you Cannibal the cat if you keep this up.’ You told the dragon as you moved from behind his tail to greet Aemond, who was looking at Cannibal with an unreadable expression. ‘Fascinating.’ He muttered softly as he looked at you.

‘What is?’ You asked.

‘The fact that the first person to ever claim Cannibal is someone with no Valyrian blood nor ancestry to speak of.’ Aemond replied and you couldn’t help but scowl at this, feeling as though this was meant to be some sort of dig at you, but then again the joke was on him because he wasn’t the only one to ride with a dragon of legend anymore.

‘Can you blame me? I don’t rest dragons like their weapons to be used to threaten people in bending the knee.’ You spat back. ‘Sounds to me like you are compensating for the fact that you would’ve been viewed just like any other house in Westeros had it not been for the very Dragons you ride, and yet here you are, treating them as though their disposable while pondering why it maybe that their dying out.’ You added, staring Aemond down as his jaw twitched, you had struck a nerve but all you did in response to that was shrug your shoulders. ‘Sounds a bit hypocritical dont you think my prince?’

‘You know nothing of the word.’ Aemond said lowly as he stepped towards you, only to be greeted by Cannibal’s shadow looming over you both, lowering his head to glare at Aemond from behind you while you looked directly at the prince; unbothered and calm by the whole thing.

‘I wouldn’t but I’m sure your bloodline is more familiar with the misuse and treatment of Dragons than I am.’ You said, feeling no fear with Cannibal having your back, literally, as you looked back at your companion with a smile. ‘Let’s us go somewhere else Cannibal, I fear we may have overstayed our welcome.’ Cannibal only made a sound akin to that of purring and taking that as your que to bid Aemond farewell and mounted Cannibal once more and left.

You had Cannibal’s back and you knew he had yours as well and that’s what you prided your connection on, never had you ever known a more peaceful nights sleep, not until Cannibal draped a protective wing over you to keep you warm during those nights where you just wanted to stay beside your dragon as you cuddled into his warm scaly belly. Your heart and his were one and you feared that without Cannibal, you’d loose apart of yourself forever and you’d treasure every moment you had with your dragon, no matter what may come for either of you in the future.

Now for some character reactions;

Aegon shits himself. Enough said. He will not go near you especially if Cannibal was constantly on the verge of wanting to eat him whole.

He doesn’t care of how you claimed him like others would, he’s terrified of Cannibal and doesn’t want to stay for long enough than he had to, he’s not about that life despite the family he’s reluctantly born into.

Aemond on the other hand was intrigued on how you managed to do such a thing, it was feet unheard of and yet you did it and without being eaten on top of that.

He also would view this as something that was predestined by fate or something like that. You and him being the riders of the largest dragons left alive in Westeros, imagine the destructive force the pair of you would be if you were to be wed to one another. It’s a thought that hasn’t left his mind since the day you claimed Cannibal and while the bitterness of your words stung him, that didn’t mean he wasn’t about to put an end to his dreams of you and him flying together on Vhagar and Cannibal in happy union.

He’s delusional but a dangerous kind, so Cannibal is always on high alert with him.

Otto would try pull out all the stops and arrange a marriage between you and Aemond, feeding into his grandsons dangerous delusions, claiming that you were only this way to see whether or not he would love you at your most stubborn. Besides what’s greater than having one large dragon on your side? Two large dragons!

So Otto doesn’t care about how you claimed cannibal but only the benefits for the greens of you doing so would be enough to have Rhaenyra’s forced yield and pledge for Aegon or die fighting, either way works out for the greens in the end but all he needed to do was get you with Aemond.

Rhaenyra found you claiming Cannibal to be a once in a life time miracle as it wasn’t often that a dragon was claimed by someone who wasn’t a descent of Old Valyria. For you had to be truly something for a dragon as stubborn and dangerous as Cannibal to agree to be yours and knows of the target that you have placed on your back by doing so.

To put it simply, she wants you on her side of the war when the time comes as a last resort should she need you in her most dire of times. You and Cannibal had a connection unlike any other she has ever seen and that makes you an essential asset that everyone will want. She wanted to get to you before the greens do and will try her hardest but it would take some time considering how on guard Cannibal is to anyone who wasn’t you.

He knew what she was doing but with time she hoped that you would get Cannibal to understand because if she nor the greens couldn’t get to you, then there would be another level of uncertainty in knowing that a nomad dragon rider and their dragon were taking to the skies with leisure. You and Cannibal were a lot more dangerous than you may think and that’s what scared her the most; you not understand the power you now hold with cannibal at your beck and call.

Jacaerys thought that someone who wasn’t of Valyrian decent couldn’t claim a dragon nearly as successfully as those of Valyrian descent could. However you managed to defy all expectations that were previously set and proven that the impossible could be possible through the right circumstances.

He had so many questions on how you did it but Cannibal would always stop him and take you away before he could. He had read stories about cannibal and knew better then to hop on Vermax and chase after you, and so he would just allow his mind to ponder on how it was that you managed to claim Cannibal without being consumed.

He too feared the eyes that you have no attracted to yourself by doing such a thing and would try his best to protect you no matter what but Cannibal was proving it very difficult to get close to you without fire being out at him. However Jace was determined to make sure that no harm came to you, even if he had to do so from afar.

[zephyrchama]

🎁🥔

Beelzebub and Mammon made their presence very well known when they entered the living room, with heads held high and chests puffed out proudly. They were a little sweaty and disheveled but strangely upbeat. Beelzebub was clearly concealing something behind his back. Mammon had his nose pointed so far up, it was almost a challenge to the Avatar of Pride's moniker.

You looked up from the couch and asked, "What's up, guys?" Feeling for all the world like a kindergarten teacher about to play a game with their students.

"We got you something," Beelzebub said with a pleasant smile. It was almost entirely drowned out by Mammon's loud boasting.

"You won't believe what I found. You're 'bout to be real grateful, so get our praise ready."

They plopped down into seats on either side of you, Beelzebub careful not to jostle the mystery in his hand.

It wasn't every day they made a big deal out of giving you something. Normally, they'd just do it. Your interest was piqued. "What is it?"

They smirked at each other. Both demons wanted to drag out the suspense, but were also too impatient to wait much longer. Still in their school uniforms, they probably rushed straight home as soon as they procured their present. After grinning for several prolonged seconds in self-satisfaction, Mammon snapped his fingers dramatically. "Show 'em, Beel!"

Beelzebub placed the gift in your lap as if it were made of the finest glass.

It was a potato.

"A human world potato," Beelzebub explained, as if there was any doubt.

"Ya don't see this in the Devildom everyday. We thought you'd like a human treat every once 'n a while."

It was green and wrinkly, with multiple spuds sprouting out the top. It looked like somebody had dropped it behind a shelf and found it months later through smell alone. It was impossible to discern if it had been washed recently or if, at this point, the slimy and moist texture was just this tuber's natural state of existence.

Two sets of eyes filled with anticipation were locked on to your face, scrutinizing its every move. They were waiting for their shower of praise. You forced an awkward smile and laughed with strained excitement. "A potato! Wow, thanks guys!"

"What are you gonna make with it?" Beelzebub was eager to know.

"I'm not sure." You gazed at the gift. You kind of wanted to fling it off your legs before your skin started crawling. Though, you couldn't insult the brothers after their hard work. It was time to start lying through your teeth. "I'm so touched. Really. That you went and got... this potato for me. I kind of want to keep it as a memento!"

Mammon waved his hand to dismiss your idea. "Nah, don't hold back! I paid a pretty hefty sum to get a hold a' this, y'know."

Your heartstrings twinged with guilt. To avoid stirring Beelzebub and his endless stomach, Mammon leaned over towards your ear. "Fry it, bake it, boil it. It's all yours," he whispered. "'Long as you're happy, yeah?"

You were not happy. Every day with these demons brought a fresh source of stress. At least you were never dull.

"Solomon once said that green vegetables are good for humans," Beelzebub revealed.

You twirled your head around so fast that you accidentally bumped Mammon in the nose and asked, "You actually took food advice from Solomon?"

"Only after Belphie confirmed it," he clarified. So they did do their research.

While that was usually true, this was an incredibly unfortunate exception. You could not bring yourself to consume the sad green potato. You needed a new idea.

"Can human plants be cultivated in the Devildom? I want to plant this, and then we'll have more potatoes we can all share." The wet sensation on your leg only grew more unpleasant and you wanted to get rid of it as soon as possible. "Let's go plant it out back and see."

The siblings began talking over one again again, saying, "My human's got a heart of gold" and "I'd like that" while squeezing you with bear hugs from either size. It jostled the potato and you feared it would start leaking more.

"Let's go, let's go!" you ushered, eager to give this old vegetable a proper burial. You could vaguely hear Mammon brag to his younger brother, "I told you this was a great idea, they're gonna be thankin' us for weeks," as you raced towards the doorway.

[musaslullaby]

The night has only just begun

Max Verstappen x fem reader

Summary: Max becomes jealous when he sees you talking to another man.

Warning: NSFW, +18, you are responsible for what you read.

Masterlist

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I've always loved being around people. Parties, interviews, or simply going out to dinner were a way to clear my head from eternal melancholy.

The limousine sped through the empty streets of Monaco. The only lights visible through the tinted windows were those of the beautiful stars, shining independently in the sky. They’ve always inspired a sense of trust in me, and now, after years of hard work, I can happily consider myself one of them.

"Schatje, are you ready?" Max asked, placing his hand on my leg, covered by the expensive blue dress that sparkled under the moonlight.

"I'm always ready. Perhaps I should ask you if you are." My mischievous smile caused an adorable chuckle from Max, who gently stroked me before stepping out of the car. Like a true gentleman, he opened the door for me, and only at that moment did my eyes wander over his entire body, perfectly framed by a black tuxedo as dark as the night, which highlighted his light blue eyes.

He extended his hand toward me with an elegant gesture while a brilliant, sincere smile adorned his features. His expression was relaxed, genuinely happy, and it made me smile involuntarily. I loved seeing him so at ease, especially because it was rare—during races, he often showed his worst side.

I gently placed my hand in his, which was larger than mine. It felt reassuring as we walked down that red carpet; his presence was warm and calm, in stark contrast to the continuous flashes of the journalists' cameras blinding us. Even the sky seemed to hide its beloved stars from those equally bright machines.

When we entered the venue, the lights were dim, a soft murmur lingered in the background, and waiters constantly passed by with glasses of sparkling wine. Occasionally, you could notice a dark wooden table surrounded by Ferrari-red couches.

My eyes darted around, scanning every person, and they casually caught sight of blonde hair. In an instant, I left Max's side, diving into that ocean of important people, dressed like kings and queens. When I got close enough, I recognized that boy. I knew my eyes weren’t deceiving me. "If I’m not mistaken, this is the scent of…" I said, stopping, resting my hand on my chin as I pretended to think. "Ah yes, it’s the new Giorgio Armani fragrance?"

The boy turned to me with wide eyes. "I can’t believe it, Y/N, how long has it been!"

"Too long!" I whispered, laughing, as we hugged, fearing we’d lose each other again.

"So, how’s it going?" he asked, his bright smile so contagious that I felt a facial paralysis coming on.

"Everything’s fine, thanks," I replied kindly, my voice slightly sweetened.

I had no idea how much time had passed since we started talking, but the only thing I knew was that he hadn’t changed: he was still the same goofy boy as always, and in some ways, that was reassuring. As caught up as we were in the conversation, I completely ignored the phone going crazy with calls and messages. By then, my handbag was vibrating every three seconds.

A laugh erupted from the back of my throat; I loved his humor and jokes, but I didn’t even have time to reply before I felt a deadly grip on my wrist, being yanked from the conversation without realizing it.

"That's enough," Max whispered through clenched teeth, his jaw tight.

"Stop it!" I yelled, trying to resist, drawing the attention of those around us, who suddenly stopped talking. Couldn’t they mind their own business?

"Will you explain what’s wrong with you?" I asked, stumbling as he let go, shoving me violently against the bathroom wall.

"What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me?" His anger was evident; I could see it in his eyes, but beyond that, I saw something else… sadness? Melancholy? No, that wasn’t it. Something deeper, perhaps?

"I’m not the one who was eyeing another man," he continued, almost shouting, his voice filled with frustration and repressed feelings.

"What are you talking about? You know I only have eyes for you," I whispered, a slight sense of guilt starting to weigh on me, causing me to lower my gaze.

"Good, liefde, then prove it," he said, pressing his face against mine. I felt his warm breath brushing my lips and his mischievous grin. Ah, that’s what had been in his eyes earlier: lust.

With my cheeks flushed pink, I made the first move, throwing myself onto his slightly chapped lips. Max knew me too well; I would never back down from his provocations.

His hands gripped my hips in a firm hold, pulling me against his body. His teeth sank into my lips, asserting his dominance.

Involuntarily, I let out a sharp squeal, which earned an approving sound from Max. His kisses moved down to my exposed neck, biting and sucking the sensitive spots he knew all too well.

When he pulled away, I ran my hand over the purple and red marks he had left on me. A shiver of excitement shot down my spine as Max seductively licked his lips.

"Kneel," he ordered in a firm, authoritative voice, as he unbuttoned his pants.

With a subdued nod, I knelt before him, noticing the bulge in his pants. When I saw his member freed from its restraints in front of my face, I felt a sharp pang of pleasure deep in my core. Without hesitation, I took him into my mouth, swirling my tongue around him. I could hear his muffled grunts under my touch, and the heat he caused throughout my body was heavenly.

"Damn…" His hands found a grip in my hair, tugging to push deeper into his sex. My cheeks flushed red as he completely controlled the rhythm. Gag reflexes took over my body, feeling his member contract and the veins growing rigid. Suddenly, I noticed the pace increasing, although sloppier, and after two more thrusts, Max released himself into my throat.

"Swallow it all, I don’t want to see a drop," he whispered, pulling me up by my hair. His cheeks were flushed pink, and sweat dripped down his forehead.

He was incredibly sexy. With a seductive movement, I placed my hands on his chest, letting his expensive jacket fall to the ground. The white shirt clung to his body from the sweat, revealing his sculpted abs.

Max dropped the authoritative act for a moment, planting a sweet, wet kiss on my lips, tasting himself, before returning to the Max from before.

Without effort, he lifted me into his arms, playing with the edge of my panties, slightly pushing them aside, brushing against my swollen, already wet lips.

"You're already ready for me, schatje? Pathetic," he whispered with a mischievous laugh on my lips, and his closeness definitely wasn’t helping.

Quickly, he aligned himself with my entrance and penetrated me, our ragged breaths mingling together. I could feel every part of him inside me, every small movement and his overwhelming heat. He didn’t wait a second before hammering into me at an inhuman pace. I was sure my screams could be heard throughout the club.

He was consistent, hard, and fast. No second thoughts or hesitation, his movements were precise and sure. I buried my face in his neck while he grunted, throwing his head back in pleasure.

The tip of his member hit my g-spot, making me melt like cream in his hands. I could no longer think straight. A warmth crept into my lower abdomen, and with each thrust, it became more intense and taut until it finally snapped, accompanied by a scream carrying his name in a vulgarly melodious way.

"He would never make you scream the way I do," he said between grunts, pushing even deeper, losing energy as he went.

After a few more thrusts, he reached the height of pleasure and came inside me with a stifled groan, muffled by a kiss full of sweetness and lust, mixed in a perfect cocktail.

Sweat dripped down his face as he lovingly pressed his forehead against mine.

"I love you, schatje," he whispered against my lips in a soft voice, planting a few kisses on my face.

"I love you too, especially when you're jealous," I said with a playful smile, grazing his earlobe with my teeth, making him shiver at the contact.

"Ready for the next round?" he said with a mischievous smirk, running his fingers down my back, exposed by the low cut of my dress.

"The night has only just begun..." I whispered, laughing softly as I gently caressed his cheek, my heart beating faster knowing what awaited me.

[ckret2]

Chapter 56 of human Bill Cipher probably not about to be the Mystery Shack's prisoner much longer:

Bill and Mabel wrap up their impromptu lesson on the second dimension, while Ford and Dipper wrap up their final preparations for Bill's execution.

Dipper peeked in through the door to the gift shop. When no one acknowledged him, he cautiously meandered across the living room toward Ford, straight between Bill and Mabel without either of them glancing at him; they were too caught up in Bill answering Mabel's question about how to see through walls with the fourth dimension.

When Dipper was nearly out of the room, Bill suddenly focused on him. "Hey stinky, what have you been up to?"

Dipper jumped. "What?"

Mabel laughed. "Yeah! You smell like burning hair."

"You smell like nightmares," Bill corrected.

Ford muttered a curse under his breath. Ford hadn't noticed a smell, but Dipper's soul had fallen into the Nightmare Realm—did its distinctive scent still cling to him? Would Bill realize what it meant? If he did—

Dipper swallowed hard. "I... was... having a nightmare?"

Bill considered that. "Ask a stupid question..." He shrugged and turned back to the grid he'd been adding notes to.

Dipper sighed in relief. He joined Ford in the entryway to watch the lesson in bafflement. Under his breath, he murmured, "Has this been going on a while?"

"At least the last fifteen minutes." That was how long Ford had been watching. He'd learned a couple things about higher dimensional physics even he hadn't known.

"Wait," Mabel said, "Bill, I get it! You don't look through walls, you look over them!"

Bill's face split into a wide grin. "Explain it!"

"It's like, if I was floating above the second dimension, I could just see over all the walls! But Flatworlders don't even know what 'above' is, so they'd think I was looking through the walls somehow! So there's got to be some kind of fourth dimensional place 'above' the third dimension, right?!"

"On the money, star girl! Give yourself another sticker!"

"YES!" She'd run out of facial real estate for stickers, so she slapped it on her headband.

Bill beamed proudly at her. "How come your brother's the one with the straight A's, huh? You could blow him out of the water if you wanted."

Mabel's smile immediately disappeared.

Dipper hissed between his teeth. "Oooh." Under his breath, he said, "Mabel hates people saying things like that. I should go rescue her." He crept back into the room. "Hey! Bill!"

Mabel turned toward Dipper. Bill only glanced askance at him. Flatly, he asked, "What."

"Uh..." Dipper skimmed the papers coating the room for anything that he could talk about, and focused on the ringed planet behind the TV. He pointed at it. "Is... that Flatworld?"

Bill shrugged apathetically. "Sure, you can call it that."

"Why are all the countries off the planet?"

"Do you think we lived underground?"

Mabel perked up. "Dipper! The shapes live in outer space! In between their home planet and the planet's rings! They only use the planet for vacations and underground science buildings and stuff."

Dipper asked, "Underground science buildings?"

Bill sighed and turned away from the grid, giving Dipper a look that said I'll give you my attention, but I won't like it. "Research facilities. Like wave pools, particle accelerators, and solar farms. Gigantic equipment like that is more stable anchored in bedrock."

(Ford remembered, suddenly, over thirty years ago, Bill telling him that he ought to dig out a subterranean cavern for the interdimensional portal. "A big machine like this," he'd said, "you want that anchored on all sides by solid rock. It'll be a lot more stable that way." Ford had never dreamed that was a trillion-year-old cultural artifact from a dead civilization.)

Still studying the map, Dipper asked, "How do you tell where your country's borders are if you're just floating in empty space?"

"How do you?"

"We use... rivers, and..."

"And sometimes you just make them up. It's not that complicated."

"Were they all as oppressive as the country in Flatworld?"

Bill gave Dipper a withering look. "This isn't a politics class, kid."

(Ford cast a dubious look at the blood-red letters reading "ANTI-MONARCHIST ANARCHISM".)

Dipper scowled, crossed his arms, and looked over the map again. "But, wait—if you were floating in outer space, and you could just... float up and down between your planet's surface and the ring, then why isn't there anything further out than that? What was stopping you from floating all the way to that moon?" He gave Bill a challenging look, as though he'd uncovered a logical fallacy that undermined the whole map.

Bill rolled his open eye. "This is what you get for coming late to class." He pointed his crayon at his star student. "Shooting Star?"

"They did float all the way to the moon!"

Dipper's shoulders dropped. "Oh."

"It was a big extreme sports bragging rights thing," Mabel said. "Like climbing Mount Everest! Except first you have to get through the rings without dying! And it'd take like thirty years to fly there and thirty years to get back!"

"Approximating the human years," Bill said.

"So they couldn't go until they invented cars, because they're fast enough to get through the rings without getting hit and it only takes a year to drive to the moon, but that means you still have to carry enough supplies for two years, and—"

"Hold on," Dipper said. "Cars?"

"Yeah!"

"But there's no ground! They're flying around in the air! They don't have wheels, do they? What makes a car different from a rocket ship?"

"Um..." Mabel looked to Bill for help.

Bill said, "Firepower." He drew a rocket sailing up toward the moon at an angle, its fiery trail cutting through the planet's rings. After a thoughtful pause, Bill added, "I know a guy that used to work at an observatory on the far side of the moon."

Dipper said, "So what happened to your world?"

And there was that hesitance, that guarded look Ford had remembered seeing whenever Bill got too close to teaching Ford enough for him to recognize the danger to his dimension. He turned away from the kids, busying himself with refining the shape of the moon. "Do the math. I'm over a trillion years old! Stars burn out, universes go cold. Your planet will barely last twelve billion years. That's the way planets go."

"Well, if you're so powerful, why didn't you just—I dunno—keep it alive?"

The crayon snapped in Bill's hand.

Mabel gave her brother an irritated look—"Dipper, don't be mean,"—but it turned to a worried look when Bill rounded sharply on them both.

Bill snapped, "Who says I didn't, smart aleck?"

"Wh—I—"

"It is alive, thanks for asking. I made sure of that."

"Then where is it—?"

"Do you think I let you sit in here so you could ask stupid questions?" Bill planted a fist on his hip and pointed toward the door. "All you've done is derail the lesson and bring up stuff we covered three hours ago. Scram, kid."

"What—? But..." Dipper looked to Mabel for help.

Mabel shrugged. Dipper sighed, got up, and trudged out of the living room to join Ford in the entryway, giving him a forlorn look as he did.

Ford muttered, "I used to get kicked out of classes for challenging the teacher, too."

Dipper snorted. "Did he ever kick you out of class?"

Ford thought. "No—but why would he? He needed me to think I was his star student."

Although one time Bill had woken Ford up at two in the morning in the middle of a dream during the portal's construction, because Ford had forgotten some measurements he'd taken in the basement and he hadn't left his notes somewhere one of Bill's eyes could see them. And then, once Ford had retrieved his notes, the irritation of being woken had prevented him from falling back asleep and returning to his Muse.

They'd laughed about it the next night.

"Do you think his world does still exist?" Dipper asked.

Ford shook his head. "The Oracle said he destroyed his dimension himself in his pursuit of power. I trust her more than him."

They stood outside watching as Mabel asked Bill if there was any way for a normal human to see into the fourth dimension without busting their eyeballs. Bill started illustrating a way to grind glass to refract light from several minutes in the future, before abandoning it halfway completed to start explaining to Mabel how regular three-dimensional refraction worked. Ford recognized the unfinished illustration. Bill had included it in his miniature grimoire, too.

Voice low, Ford murmured, "You can't tell your sister we're ready."

Dipper nodded. "She'll be heartbroken."

Ford remembered having the exact same thought that morning. He squeezed Dipper's shoulder. "I suppose I won't be going with her to that concert in Portland tomorrow."

####

"... and that," Bill concluded, "is why the Time Giants banned sixth-dimensional tourism. But by then the damage was done—which is why there's only one survivor left."

Laying on the floor, staring at the ceiling, Mabel said, "I'll never see balloons the same way again."

"Nobody ever does." Bill clicked shut his marker and dropped it on Mabel's chest. "So that covers the last fifty billion years of local politics! Did that answer your question?"

Mabel paused. "I don't remember my question."

"Good. I don't either." Bill sat on the floor beside Mabel and crossed his legs. "Anyway, you owe me fifty grand. All the info I gave you today is worth at least a year of college classes on this planet."

"Pssh, yeah right!" She paused. She sat up. "Wait. Really?"

"I might've skipped a few names and dates and formulas—but sure! We covered all the important stuff!" Smugly, he said, "So, still think I think you're dumb?"

Mabel stared at him, and then around the room at all the papers coating the walls, covered in Bill's handwriting. "You did all this just to prove I'm smart?"

"You proved you're smart. I got a captive audience for the afternoon. Quid pro quo!" Bill grinned. "I wasn't kidding earlier! You've got twice the brains of any of the other morons you'll share a classroom with. I'm surprised it's your brother on the honor roll instead of you."

Mabel's smile faded. Oh. "Yeah," she grumbled, pulling her knees to her chest. "You and everyone else." This wasn't much better than Bill thinking she was stupid: now he had expectations for her.

She'd heard it a million times, any time she did anything intelligent. You're so smart too, why aren't your grades better? Why don't you make grades like your brother?

Because Mabel liked art, music, motion, and stories (and usually not even the stories they read in English class); and Dipper liked—or at least was good at—math, science, and history. Because Mabel's brain fuzzed over with TV static when she tried to read a textbook, and the static got louder the more she was forced to reread it to "study"; whereas Dipper could read a chapter once, retain everything that mattered, and then skim it a second time right before a test to remind himself of the important names and dates. Because Mabel's bulb was just as bright as Dipper's, but hers had faulty wiring, making it flicker on and off outside her control; and she could only get it to glow steadily for things her brain was interested in; and she couldn't choose what her brain was interested in; and school wasn't on that list.

But how did she explain that when her parents were disappointed in her C+ test because Dipper came home with an A? When they told her she just needed to apply herself, how did she explain she was already applying herself five times harder than Dipper and still trailing behind him when the whole family knew she had just as much brains as him? It might have been easier if she actually was stupid. At least then they'd know she was doing her best. But she wasn't doing her best.

She got it from everyone. From her parents, day in and day out; from aunts, uncles, and grandparents; from teachers she'd taken by surprise with a particularly passionate essay; sometimes even from friends. Why aren't you making A's like your brother? So why shouldn't she hear it even from Bill Cipher.

Bill leaned back in surprise when Mabel curled in on herself. "What? I'm calling you smart, kid. Most humans like that."

Mabel shook her head, pouting at the floor. "Forget it. It just—it doesn't matter what my stupid grades are, all right?"

He stared at her in bafflement for a moment; and then said, with a tone of growing horror, "Oh. Ohhh. I sound like your dad."

She hated how much he knew about their home lives. She never knew when he was going to reveal he'd combed through one of her most shameful memories. "Just forget it," she repeated. "I just don't make grades like Dipper, okay?"

"Kid, I didn't mean it like that. I..." Bill floundered for a moment. It was weird to see him struggling for words. He leaned forward, cheek in hand, putting himself eye level with Mabel. "You know—I don't think I'm fond of your brother."

That dragged a small laugh out of Mabel. "Really? You hide it so well."

"I know! I'm a real gentleman," he said. "So when I say 'hey, why aren't you getting A's,' I'm not saying you should be more like him, ugh. I just want to watch the alpha twin trounce that little nerd."

She laughed louder. "Bill! Be nice, that's my brother!"

"And you have my eternal sympathy."

"Bill!" She punched his arm. "I don't want to compete with him, though. Even if I try a zillion times harder, I'll never get grades as good as his." She sighed loudly. But Bill was watching her, full attention on her face, expectant, so she continued: "I don't want to be a slightly worse Dipper, I just... want to be a really good Mabel! And—and maybe a really good Mabel is just okay at school. It's fine if I just... graduate with C's and go to some boring local college to get a boring degree for a boring job... while Dipper goes to some... big, fancy stupid technical college... or..." She trailed off, chin in her hands, staring at the carpet.

"Or while he gets private tutoring from some genius with too many PhDs?" Bill said wryly.

Mabel didn't answer, trying to swallow around the lump in her throat. "I know he wouldn't have actually left me behind."

Bill grimaced, sucking in a breath between his teeth. "Yeeeah, no, he would have," he said. "Sorry, kid. If it weren't for Weirdmageddon, he'd have taken the apprenticeship."

Mabel's stomach flipped. "Oh."

"So, you're welcome," Bill said.

Mabel socked him again, more seriously.

Bill just laughed. "Hey—if it helps, he woulda been worse off for it! He made the right choice sticking with you."

"Really?"

"Would I lie to you?" He paused. "Poor choice of words. I'm not lying to you. He'll be better off suffering through a middle-upper-class Californian high school beside you than he ever woulda been hiding in the woods catching gnomes in butterfly nets."

She nodded. That was some comfort. Even if, in another life, apparently Dipper would've ditched her.

Bill gave her one of those long, piercing looks he sometimes did; and then he nudged her. "Hey. Don't worry about school—that's your parents talking, not you. And don't worry about what your brother does. Let him bust his butt at a big stupid technical college! Flunk every class and draw flowers on the SAT bubble sheet! You'll have plenty of your own things going on, and your dumb grades won't matter for any of them—"

Mabel flung her arms around Bill. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Hey. You're gonna be fine, kid." He leaned his head on Mabel's, one shut eye pressed to the crown of her head. "I—know it's hard. But you'll be fine."

She didn't know how he could know it was hard. He already knew everything, it wasn't like he ever had to worry about grades. But—the fact that he cared (that he cared) meant a lot. "Thank you."

"Buuut, if you ever decide you do want to be an honor roll kid, call me up! I can give you some advice."

Warily, Mabel asked, "Study tips?"

"No way! What a waste of time!" Bill rolled his eyes. "But I can teach you how to cheat."

####

After Ford told Stan and Soos the news about the Dontium, he headed downstairs to fuel up his Quantum Destabilizer. It had been waiting on a worktable in his study for weeks, the corded power adaptor Fiddleford had made plugged in where it usually took fuel, its empty fuel tank laying nearby.

Fiddleford had said the adaptor he'd invented only gave the destabilizer enough power to act like a common laser—not enough to completely destroy matter and energy. It was insufficient for the job at hand. Ford unplugged the power adaptor, carefully coiled it up, and slid it into a storage pocket in the destabilizer's carrying case.

He picked up the fuel tank, retrieved the milk jug of NowUSeeitNowUDontium, and poured it into the tank, eyes never wavering from the jug until every drop had been poured inside and the tank re-sealed. He triple checked the destabilizer's safety before he plugged in the fuel tank. Then he put the destabilizer in the carrying case as well, and shut and latched it.

As he headed toward the door, Ford spied Flatworld laying on his desk—Dipper must have left it downstairs. He picked it up... and then sat down, studying the cover. It showed a square with arms and legs peering through a telescope.

How much did the book really matter? The kids must have cracked open something in Bill's psyche by reading this book, with how talkative he'd been today—Ford suspected he'd learned more about Bill's world in less than thirty seconds of staring at the crayon drawings in the living room than he had in all the years he'd known him. He itched again to start recording revelations in his journal.

Would Bill have been this forthright years ago, if Ford had remembered more about the book then and asked about it? Or was Bill only willing to share so much because the Pines already knew the truth about his cruel intentions and he had nothing more to hide? No, that couldn't be it—just a year ago, long after he'd revealed his plans, Bill had been willing to guardedly confess to Ford that he'd "liberated" his dimension, but nothing more. The only descriptor he'd given of it was "flat." He hadn't even shown Ford an accurate illustration of his home world.

Then was it because he'd died since then—a ghost desperate to share his life story before he dissipated completely? Or was it just because Mabel had asked?

If Bill had been honest when he'd said he wanted to be Ford's friend... then, Ford supposed, it was possible Bill was also sincere in caring for Mabel. No, Ford was sure that was sincere. How many times had he seen Bill lost in thought, staring at the friendship bracelet she'd given him?

Ford idly flipped through Flatworld, choosing a passage at random to read, wondering how much he'd remember.

SQUARE. Most illustrious Sir, I can observe plainly that you are a Circle, though I know not by what magical means you have found an ingress into my dreams. Would your Lordship deign to satisfy the curiosity of one who wishes to know the identity of his esteemed Visitor?

SPHERE. Your question is more difficult than you may realize. To begin with, I am not a Circle, but rather a Sphere, the definition of which I shall explain to you in due time; and you, my humble pupil, if you exercise the full extent of your intellectual and rhetorical capacity, I hope shall be the Square who changes Flatworld. 

SQUARE. Your Lordship both honors and confuses me. I shall strive to be worthy of your high estimation, but I am naught but a mere Quadrilateral and know not how I could contain the potential to achieve such a feat.

SPHERE. I see I have gotten ahead of myself. I shall explain the purpose of my visit. I hope to find in you—as being a man of sense and an accomplished mathematician—a fit prophet to receive the Gospel of Higher and Lower Dimensions, which I am allowed to preach to only one brilliant mind in a century. 

SQUARE. Pardon me, my Lord, if I am speaking blasphemously in my ignorance; but would not a messenger from beyond this Plain who delivers Gospels to Prophets be better described as an Angel?

SPHERE. You may refer to me as an "Angel" if you so wish, as my nature is not so different from the creature you call such. However, I have come not to offer a revelation of the truth of the Higher Dimensions, but to bless you with the inspiration to discover the truth for yourself. In this manner, I am less like unto an Angel than I am to a Muse—

Ford threw the book on the floor.

####

When Ford headed back upstairs, he resolved to tear down all Bill's crayon drawings and throw them away, lest he give into the temptation to waste the rest of Journal 5's pages meticulously cataloguing them.

But when he reached the living room, the walls were bare, with no sign the papers had ever been there aside from some stray crayon marks and a little extra damage to the wallpaper where the tape had peeled up, and a faint smell of smoke.

Ford followed the smell into the kitchen. There was a cast iron skillet on the dark stove, embers and the last few strands of smoke trailing up from it. Bill was sitting at the kitchen table in the dark, staring out into the night, nursing what looked like the second cider can of the night.

"What's all this?" Ford asked.

Without turning around, Bill said smugly, "I knew you'd be back to try to get those papers."

"Wh—? I was coming to throw them away."

"In the middle of the night?" Bill scoffed. "Please."

Ford frowned at the skillet. Well. Temptation removed, just like he'd wanted. Although a petty part of him was miffed that now Bill thought he'd been coming to rummage through his detritus for secrets about his home world, rather than seeing Ford confidently throw it in the trash. "How did you get the stove on?"

"Oh, is it on?" Bill asked innocently.

Ford double checked. It was not, and the knobs to operate it were still removed. But it radiated heat as though it had been; Bill hadn't just dropped the papers in the skillet and ignited them there. (Which would have been an entirely new concern.) Ford checked the cabinet where they kept the stove knobs—all still there. If he asked Bill how he'd achieved that, he'd probably just profess ignorance.

Fine, Ford had plenty of other questions he wanted to ask. "How long have you been able to levitate objects?"

"You mean like this?" Bill lifted his empty cider can, tapped it twice with his index finger, and left it suspended in midair.

"Yes, like that."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I can't do that," Bill said.

Ford sighed in frustration. "Was it the eclipse? You said you were—what was it, 'better at floating' than us? Did it... unlock something? Or have you always been able to do this?"

"This is what I used to like about you, Stanford. You're so curious. You come up with the most interesting connections between things. Sometimes connections I'd never thought of! And you keep—asking—questions. Even when nobody answers you." He finished his second can, used both hands to crush it, and left it floating in the air next to the first. "You used to be such a good student."

You used to be such a good teacher, he wanted to shoot back—but that was a lie. Bill had never been a good teacher, he'd just pretended to be one.

He'd been a good teacher to Mabel today.

Why isn't he always a good teacher? Why had he chosen to be a poor facsimile when he could have chosen to be the real deal? Why hadn't he been better? Why hadn't he been better? Why did they always seem to have these conversations in the middle of the night?

"Why are you..." Ford spread his hands helplessly, gesturing at all of Bill, everything he'd ever done—golden god of infinite wisdom, poisoned by lies and cruelty, trapped in a slowly rotting body. "Why are you like this."

Ford wasn't expecting Bill to get out of his seat and round on him so fast. He didn't even see the blow coming before Bill punched him.

Ford seized Bill's wrist and only barely caught himself before he broke it.

Bill didn't even acknowledge Ford's grip. "I'm so sick of you." His voice was hard as iron. "If you ever ask me that again, I'll burn down this shack with all of us inside."

Ford stared at Bill. He let go of his wrist.

Bill silently swept around Ford and out of the kitchen.

"I'm sorry."

Bill's footsteps fell silent. After a moment, he muttered, "Might've overreacted."

Something about the grudging not-apology hit Ford harder than a proper apology ever would have. He remained standing in the kitchen until long after Bill had gone upstairs.

The cans had fallen at some point during Bill's departure. Ford knelt to pick them up. Experimentally, he tapped one twice, and let it go.

It fell to the floor again.

It occurred to him that, depending on what happened tomorrow, those might have been the last words he'd ever say to Bill.

####

Bill shuffled to his sleep spot under the attic window, flopped unsteadily onto the cushions, pulled Journal 4 from its hiding spot, and carefully stuck the gold star Mabel had given him earlier that day to one of its pages.

And then he filled half a page with all the things he should have screamed at Ford.

####

Mabel came into the bedroom, shut the door—it had been patched earlier that day by Soos—and flopped face up on her bed. Staring at the ceiling, she said, "Dipper I know everything now."

Dipper was already under the covers, eyes shut. "About what?"

"Bill."

"What shape was his dad?"

Mabel paused. "I know almost everything about Bill."

"Pfff."

"But I do know his mom was some kind of supermodel or something! He says that's where he got his good looks. I don't know if he's actually good-looking by Flatworld standards, or if he just has really high self-esteem, but if his mom was a model I guess he could have inherited whatever Flatworlders think is good-looking—"

"How do you know he's not lying?"

"Why would he lie about that? I'll never meet his mom."

"To make his family sound cool?"

Uncertainly, Mabel said, "I guess." After a pause, she loud-whispered, "Did you read Flatworld?"

Dipper figured he wasn't getting to sleep any time soon. He pushed his covers down and sat up. "Yeah."

"It was really messed up, huh?"

Dipper thought about it. "I... guess it was, yeah." He hadn't thought about it much earlier—he'd been trying to wrap his head around the math and visualize the fourth dimension, and then his quick tour of the Nightmare Realm had pushed it from his mind completely; but... "The author's really obsessed with dead baby shapes, huh."

"You remember those old 70s cartoons with singing numbers we watched in class to try to teach us multiplication?" Mabel asked. "I was expecting it to be like that but for old timey people. Not about shapes getting executed for having short sides."

"Or squares getting locked in insane asylums for heresy if they tried to say the third dimension existed."

"Or major sexism against lines."

"Yeah, what was that about? Did they really think lines went around stabbing everyone to death just because they're pointy and they could?"

"I don't know, maybe lines really did do that. If I kept being told to shut up because my head was too skinny to hold a brain, I'd stab my husband too."

"I guess that makes sense." Light through the attic's triangular window illuminated the room a deep gray-blue; but as Dipper watched, the room darkened as a cloud covered the moon. It was probably going to rain tomorrow. "And... this is where Bill grew up?"

"Yeah," Mabel said quietly. "Some details are different from the book, he said so. Like he told me colors weren't illegal and peace-cries were just a dumb etiquette thing. But..."

"What about the executions? Or—or triangles being treated like servants by everyone else?"

"I don't know. He didn't want to answer questions like that. He talked about stuff like dance clubs and gardening in space, but he got super mad when I tried to ask about the serious stuff."

"Maybe he got his power as part of some... triangle uprising? And then he went crazy and decided to destroy everything?" Dipper was thinking, again, about the Axolotl's half-remembered prophecy. That maybe Bill was here to help them against some threat even worse than him.

"I can see why he destroyed his dimension," Mabel said.

Dipper winced, "Okay, but—sure, it was bad, but that doesn't mean his entire dimension deserved to die."

"No, of course not," Mabel said quickly. "But like I get it. If all that was going on."

"If it was. Just... how much is different from the book, and how much is true?"

"I don't know."

The room fell silent again.

"Welp," Mabel said brightly, "I've got the rest of summer to get the whole story out of him! Goodnight, Dipper!"

Dipper's stomach flipped with guilt. "Yeah." The rest of summer. Mabel left for Portland in the morning. "Goodnight."

He lay down, pulled his sheet back up, and stared at the ceiling.

Friday, 11:00 p.m.

####

(Next week's chapter is exactly what you think it is. But before we get there, I'm looking forward to hearing what y'all think about this week!)

[hp-hcs]

• smut (?) • like a record, baby [soulmate au]—poly! simp! mattheo riddle x poly! simp! harry potter x poly! gn! reader

hey sorry i fell off the face of the planet for like two and a half months i fell back into my old hyperfixation and started a new blog just for that and lowkey forgot abt this one and kinda fell out of the fandom lmfao anywhore—

inspired by that one Dead or Alive song

tws: sort of smut? it’s mostly implied and also like two sentences and also doesn’t involve the reader whatsoever?, lowkey bottom mattheo tbh, blink-and-you-miss-it reference to potential harry self harm :(, so fucking ooc omg

not edited if you see any mistakes shhh no you didn’t

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

If I, I get to know your name / Well, if I could trace your private number, baby

Mattheo huffed, resigned. It was official; he’d finally have to talk to Scarboy.

Eight years.

Eight years of avoiding the damn boy. Eight years of ignoring the sudden sharp pains that would slice across his forehead, right where Potter’s famous scar was. Eight years of waking up in the middle of the night from nightmares that weren’t his own.

His fingers reached down on instinct to mindlessly trace the prominent soulmarks etched into his wrist. His fingertips skated over the sprawling lightning bolt mark that twisted its way up his arm, its branching lines crossing over part of his faded Dark Mark.

His fingers then marched their way across his scarred skin to the other soulmark. It was an odd black circle with a smaller red circle inside, and an even smaller circle in the center. Thin white lines following the curve of the circular shape were intermittently drawn on the black part, giving it a ridge-like visual texture.

He had no fucking clue what it was supposed to be. Neither did his mother, the one time he’d worked up the nerve to ask her about it.

Potter might, a little voice in his head whispered. He was raised by Mudbloods. If it’s a Muggle symbol, he might know what it is.

Fuck. He really would have to get over himself and talk to Scarboy.

~~~

I, I got to be your friend now, baby

“It’s a vinyl.”

Mattheo paused. “What?”

“The mark. It’s a vinyl.” Harry pushed his glasses up his nose where they’d started to slip down. “It’s an old-fashioned way Muggles used to play music.”

“Music? Is it an instrument?” Mattheo asked, his eyes lingering for just a second too long on Harry’s slender fingers. Potter had taken the news of being Mattheo’s soulmate surprisingly well. He’d just shrugged and nodded, saying he already knew.

Mattheo looks between his and Harry’s exposed forearms. His skin itches to pull his sleeve down, to cover up the shameful mark of his father burned into his flesh for eternity. Harry’s arm is also scarred, but in a much different way. Both bear the same circular soulmark—the vinyl, as Potter had called it—although their other soulmarks differed. Mattheo’s was the obvious lightning bolt, while Harry’s was a cigarette, puffing out a cloud of smoke that formed the shape of a snake.

And I would like to move in just a little bit closer

“Sort of,” Harry answered his original question, doing his best to explain as his fingers tracing the identical vinyl soulmark on his own wrist. “It’s just a plastic disk. When you put it on a record player, it spins, and a little needle follows the grooves. It plays whatever music was recorded onto it.”

“Uh huh,” Mattheo hummed in acknowledgment a half-second too late, too busy focusing on Harry’s fingers. Had they always looked that good?

Harry smirked and reached over, lacing their hands together. Mattheo’s skin promptly heated up about ten degrees and the skin under his soulmark sizzled with a pleasant buzz before radiating a soft silver glow.

That’s it. They were together; now, until forever.

~~~

Mattheo’s legs shook, his teeth digging into his lower lip hard enough to bleed. “A-ah~ P-Potter—”

“Nuh uh.” The man in question, currently hidden underneath a library table, pulled off. “That’s not my name, and you know it.”

“Harry!”

“That’s it. Good boy.”

~~~

All I know is that to me / You look like you're lots of fun

They refused to call it the Yule Ball this year. After all, the war was over, there was no reason to continue separating Muggleborns and Purebloods with something as silly as a school dance.

So, much to the horror of many a Pureblood parent, Hogwarts was hosting Prom this year.

Open up your lovin' arms / Watch out, here I come

Harry was having a blast. Admin had insisted on only playing Muggle music at Prom, and it had been a wonderfully painful mix of *Nsync, Outkast, and Ricky Martin.

“You have to dance with me,” Harry demanded, pulling Mattheo out onto the dance floor by his arm.

Mattheo stumbled, still not used to the odd formal attire Muggles wore. (A tuxedo, Harry had informed him it was called.) Although he’d never say it aloud, he preferred the tux over his usual dress robes. So much easier to move around in; why were dress robes ever on the table as an option?

~~~

You spin me right ‘round, baby, right ‘round / Like a record, baby, right ‘round, ‘round, ‘round

You spin around in a circle with Hermione, both of you doing your best to teach Pansy Parkinson—Hermione’s soulmate—how to dance anything other than ballroom-style.

All three of you were laughing like mad, spinning around and around until you all got dizzy.

All three of you tried to stumble off the dance floor and back to the table you’d called dibs on earlier in the night. As you’re stumbling back, dizzy, you bump into a pair of men.

Suddenly, your outfit feels a lot stuffier than it did before. You feel hot all over.

One of the men grabs your bicep to try to steady you. His hands are slick with sweat. The other also looks rather warm, his face flushed. All three of you stare at each other as a bright silver glow emanating from three people’s wrists suddenly cuts through the dimmed lights of the dance floor.

I want your love.

[pjsfvs]

Angry sex with Tyun

paring : dom!taehyun x afab!reader

warnings/tags : angry sex, window/wall sex, im to lazy to do the rest.

summary : You and taehyun get into a heated argument, which leads to some good angry sex.

a/n : don't leave hate comments for me to see. if you don't like it just block me and leave.

“Taehyun, I told you, I’m done talking about this. I said I was sorry.”

“You were being irrational, Y/N?! Seriously?! You can’t just go charging into my rehearsal like that begging me to come along with you, for fucking boba! What if the members got distracted. Hm? They could have been hurt or worse!”

“I get that you were worried about them, and I know I was wrong for doing that, but you're the one who told me you were on break. It is not my fault. You can't put the whole blame on me.”

“Your so fucking annoying sometimes.”

“God, can you shut up and listen to me!? I don't know why I have to re-explain this to you again.” Taehyun stare at you incredulously, ready to interrupt but you continue on, “You told me that you missed me, and I wanted to see you, so I came when you texted me you were on break.”

“How long do you think our breaks are huh? Knowing we're about to have a comeback. Just how fucking long do you think these breaks last!?”

The argument is never-ending. Sweaty and red-faced, Taehyun is so close. So close that you can still smell the scent of spear mint on his breath from the gum he's been chewing. So close that you can see the dark circles under his eyes from the sleepless night and the height of his body, creating a shadow over your body. Your chests touch, both heaving from yelling back and forth. Staring him in the eyes, you have nothing else to say; left to communicate all your frustration through a silent glare. Neither one of you wants to be the first to break.

“Taehyun, I’m done doing this whenever you and the guy have a comeback. You can’t keep telling me to come see you while on break, just to get pissed at me afterwards. I’m done with that. I’m fucking done.” You keep repeating that last line to yourself more so than to him. A realization coming over you that you might not just be done arguing with Taehyun over this particular topic. You might also be finished with your relationship. If he wouldn’t make time, to see you, what's the point. Just one fucking glance, that's all you could ask for. If this is what you had to go through each time, you weren’t sure you could handle it.

Through his anger, Taehyun gives you a look of desperation, hoping that you both could come to some agreement. Shaking your head, you turn and walk away. You have nothing left to give.

“No. You don’t get to walk away like you always do. Not this time!” He yells, grabbing you by the shoulders and pressing you against the very door you were prepared to leave though. Pushing him away does nothing. He just comes back, forcing your back against the door again with a resounding thud. You want to deny it but the roughness of how he handles you causes a spark within you. You’re certain it’s affecting Taehyun too from the way his half-hard member brushes against you.

“Tyun…” You’re cut off by a passionate kiss. Your body denies your rational mind by returning the kiss. It’s nothing like your normal exchange. It’s heated, teeth clanging against each other, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth and fighting for complete dominance.

Clothes are torn from each of your bodies, no care given to the sounds of ripping fabric and buttons hitting the floor. Your sole focus is on each other.

“Up” he commands, grabbing at your hips. Taking his cue, you jump up, wrapping your legs around his waist. Nipping along your jaw, he leaves a stinging trail of red marks on your skin. You hiss when bites down harshly at the juncture of your shoulder. Continuing on his intended path, Taehyun attaches his mouth to one of your perky nipples, swirling his tongue around it before sucking.

The heels of your feet pressed into his lower back, bringing him closer to your core. His throbbing member slips through your folds, pressing against your clit. Focused on your own pleasure now, you repeat the action, grinding yourself against his cock.

“Stop it.” He growls out in response to your tempting actions. The head of his member prods against your sensitive bud as Taehyun ruts his hips unexpectedly. You yelp in surprise but don’t stop.

“You need to fucking listen. You never listen.”

“Fuck you.” You retort, smirking at him in defiance.

“That’s what I plan on doing to do you, sweetheart.”

Not waiting for your reply, Taehyun enters your wet core without warning causing you to throw your head back. Any advantage you thought you had is now gone as you succumb to the pleasure. As you sink on to his thick cock, Taehyun groans lowly, enjoying the feeling of your warm pussy that is so inviting to slip into.

“Gonna fuck you so good.”

You chuckle at his comment, knowing it will provoke him. And that’s just what it does. Without pulling out of you, Taehyun unwinds your legs from his waist and pushes them towards your chest by the knees. The new position gives him a new angle to hit and he begins to thrust into you without control. His pace is frenzied and brutal as he abuses your pussy.

Clawing at his shoulders, your first orgasm washes over you but he gives you no time to bask in it. Even as your core clenches around his member, he continues to fuck you senseless, pushing you through your first orgasm and works you close to a second.

Taehyun watches, fully mesmerized, as his member pumps in and out of you. His cock is slick with your wetness making it easier for him to push back in and keep his rhythm.

“So close. Don’t fucking stop,” You announce your impending orgasm to him, not that he needed you to tell him. He knows from the way your core pulses that you’re almost there. So is he; ready to spill his load into you. Pumping into you deeper, Taehyun’s cock hits the perfect spot, causing jolts of electricity to course throughout your lower half.

Your second orgasm rocks you so hard and you go limp in his arms. A few more thrusts and he followed right behind you. His cock throbs inside you as his cum coats your walls. Dropping his head to your shoulder, Tae’s heavy breaths fan over your heated skin, sending a chill through you.

After helping you to wrap your legs back around him, he carries you to your shared bed; laying you down gently. Climbing in next to you, he tugs you to his chest making sure you are tucked comfortably against him.

“I’m sorry, ya know. You’re a damn good girlfriend, Y/N. I know that. I just don’t want anyone to get distracted and end up hurt because of you. If that happens, they might not let you visit the building anymore and I don't want that to happen.”

With much of your frustration gone, you realize you may have been too hard on Taehyun. He cares about you and doesn't want anyone on his team to get hurt.

“I know. I just want you to make some time for me. Even if its one minute of your time. I miss you."

"I know baby, I know. I'll try and make at least 10 minutes for you on busy days, on free days we can go on the cute dates you told me about doing. I promise."

[dira333]

Nightmare remedies - Bakugo x Reader

For @satorisoup because some BNHA episodes can be triggering - Join My Taglist

Katsuki is dead.

You’ve forgotten how to breathe, your heart beating so hard against your ribcage you fear the bones might break. 

Not far from you, bleeding out on the ground, is your lover, eyes open and empty.

You can’t even scream as your lungs fight for just a little bit more oxygen-

“Baby?!” Your whole body shakes and then your back, blinking into the bright lights of your living room. “Baby, breathe!” 

Katsuki’s holding you now, your body pressed so tightly against his you’re not sure where he ends and you begin. But it helps as you breathe in tune with him. In and out. In and out.

“What happened?” You manage to mumble, voice hoarse, mouth dry.

“You fell asleep on the couch. I was just in the bathroom brushing my teeth, getting ready when I heard a weird noise. Were you even breathing? You went really still!”

He sounds worried. You sink further into his touch, press your mouth against his collarbone where his shirt slipped down. It tastes like him, feels like him. He’s real. Alive and real.

“You died, Katsuki,” you whimper, digging your nails into your shoulders. “You died.”

“Shh, no, it was a bad dream.” He rocks you back and forth, gentle, gentle. “I’m here. I’m here.”

You don’t want to talk about your dream. Katsuki’s not forcing you to. He’s not a stranger to nightmares, knows how persistent they can be. 

You don’t have to explain. He lifts you with ease, carries you like one does a child, legs folded over his hip, your head resting on his beating heart. 

He’s okay. He’s alive. He’s real.

“Want something to eat?” He asks, walking through the brightly lit apartment with you tied to him. “An apple, maybe? Here, drink some water.”

“Can we take a bath?” You ask instead. He sighs, but relents, dropping almost a whole bottle of bath oil into the tub. The good one, that he bought you for when you have trouble sleeping. The water turns a deep, sparkling purple and you sink into it’s warmth only to lean back into him, his arms crossing in front of you.

“Tell me something funny,” you ask, rubbing his knees that are now on either side of you, popping out of the water like pale islands. 

“Something funny,” he drawls, resting his chin on the top of your head as he thinks. “Ah. Do you remember the dog that Shoto found? The one he thinks looks like me?”

“The pomeranian?” You giggle. “Of course, I remember him. I wanted him so bad.”

Katsuki scoffs. “Of course you do. Well, apparently the dog needs to be fostered and Shoto volunteered. He named him Kacchan.”

You gasp. “Can we get him? It would be so cute!”

“No.” Katsuki splashes you with water. “One Kacchan in this house is enough.”

“But-” He bites your ear, gently, but hard enough to make a point.

“A cat then?” You ask, leaning back far enough to grin up at him. “I saw one that looked a little like Deku.”

“I don’t want some furrspawn watch me make out with you.”

“Katsuki,” you whine, half-laughing. “They don’t do that.”

“That’s what you’re saying.” He huffs, his big hands rubbing your legs. “But I know better.”

You snuggle into him, let the warm water and the soothing scents do their thing.

A yawn works itself out of you.

“But-” you start again, only to stop. You forgot the rest of your argument.

Katsuki kisses the top of your head.

“Relax,” he mutters, “I’ve got you.”

You wake up in your bed, the sunlight kissing your face.

Katsuki’s snoring softly next to you, one arm curled around you, keeping you safe.

The nightmare has lost its bite, but your hand still moves to his chest, your fingertips searching for the rise and fall, the beat of his heart. 

Katsuki grumbles low in his throat and pulls you closer.

He’s real. He’s alive. He’s yours.

[luvrxbunny]

his favorite taste

Pairing: Vampire!Bf!Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Summary: Eddie tastes you for the first time.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, dry humping, blood, blood consumption, vampires, cum in pants(?) (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 3.7k

A/N: I’m going based on TVD vampires so Eddie has blood and a beating heart as long as he replenishes it with human blood. Also, I think I got possessed while writing this idek if its coherent

You’re lying in bed facing Eddie, admiring his face, how much he still looks the same. Even though he isn't. 

It’s been about a month since Eddie came back, different. He’s a vampire… when you boil it down. He just doesn’t like the term, he thinks it’s silly. In the month he’s been back he has explained everything to you, what happened to him, his new urges and needs. You know he goes out once a week to feed, he never told you when and he never lets you see his fangs but you’ve memorized his patterns. The only day he’s always too busy to come over is Sunday. 

It’s Saturday and Eddie is lying in your bed. You're high. He still rolls for you, despite now being immune to the effects. He likes to watch you smoke, watch you get sluggish, sweet, soft, and sensitive for him. He’s watching you as you admire his face, as you bring your hand up to trace over his cheek, down his jawline, and to his lips. 

You’re motions are mindless, you’re barely aware that you’re doing them. You imagine what his fangs look like as your fingers trace the outline of his lips. Your thumb comes to press into his inner lip when his breathing picks up. 

He’s more sensitive. He forgot to mention that to you. His senses are heightened and amplified by one another. He is hyper-aware of your warm fingers against his cold lips. He even gets a whiff of the blood that's rushing underneath. His breathing kicks up for a moment, trying to fill his lungs with the scent before he stops his breath short. His fangs are trying to push their way through his gums, his instincts shouting at him to sink his teeth into your soft, plush thumb. He knows you’d taste so sweet, he could probably get a nice buzz going too, with how much weed is in your system. He squeezes his eyes shut as he wills his fangs to stay in place, pretending like he can’t already feel them pressing against his top lip. 

His lips start to tremble against your fingers and confusion crosses your face. Then you feel his fangs press against his lip, pushing it into your finger. You gasp softly and push your thumb up into his mouth to press your thumb against his fangs. You’re excited, your curiosity causing you to move before you think. 

He can feel your fingers on his fangs. He feels the ridges of your fingerprint sliding over the smooth bone. It shoots like lightning through him sending the little bit of blood he has left to his cock. His eyes are pressed shut as he tries not to move a muscle. 

You aren’t considering Eddie at all. This isn't about him. It’s about you exploring his new features. They’re longer than you expected, white and glossy with his spit. You smile as you run your fingers from the bottom of his front teeth, across to press against the point of his fangs. 

You don't think about how sharp his fangs must be.

He punctures your thumb immediately, red blood pooling on the surface.

It drips into his mouth and his eyes snap open. He grips your hand roughly, pressing your wrist against his face to hold your thumb where it is while he sucks all the blood he can from the wound. He can’t think. He can’t think about how he might be hurting you, how he shouldn’t be drinking you up like this. He can only think about your taste. 

You watch his eyes shut tightly as he moans against your thumb. His lips are wrapped around you firmly as he sucks as hard as he can. You watch him gain color, his lips becoming pink again, he whimpers out something that sounds like a sob before pulling your hand away from his face, and shoving it back down against your stomach. The way he forces you, the way his hand spreads over your stomach past your wrist, has you dampening your panties. 

Eddie’s eyes are still closed as he tries to calm down. He’s hungry, and he knows that you’re more than willing to feed him. He opens his eyes slowly to find you staring right at his lips. He goes to lick them subconsciously but a moan slips out when he’s met with more of your blood. It has your eyes snapping to his. 

He looks into your eyes trying to decipher how you’re feeling, if you’re scared of him. He watches you bite your lip and smile softly at him before asking an innocent question. “Do I taste good, Eddie?” 

He knows it’s a genuine question but he also knows that you hoped it would do something to him. His fangs peek out from under his lips when he gasps before he buries his face in your pillows and groans. You’re giggling at him and yourself, the weed still coursing through your system. You bury your face in the pillow you’re on to try and silence your laugh, Eddie, and feel it. He can hear your laugh right next to his ear while he’s mulling over what you said. It has him hard and grinding his hips gently into your bed, wishing he had put on some boxers. 

You lift your head to look at his curls. You stroke them gently and he groans into your pillow again before turning over to see you, his fangs hidden away once more. You’re still smiling at him with all your sweetness and it makes his heart skip a beat. “Why’re you asking me things like that baby?”

Heat rises to your face and your features turn embarrassed. This piques Eddie’s interest. He sits up in your bed, waiting for you to answer his question. You look at your bedsheets, twisting them under your fingers while you consider how to answer him. In the end, you choose; honestly. 

“I just… Okay so obviously I don’t know what blood tastes like. I don’t know if different blood has different flavors to you or if maybe the flavors are based on blood type?” Eddie has confusion resting on his face as he wonders if your answer leads anywhere. He’s nodding at you nonetheless, not wanting you to get insecure about what you’re saying. He likes this when you’re high enough that you’re not making a lot of sense to him but making perfect sense to yourself. You’re so cute like this, looser. Your secrets tend to spill out this way.

“Do you know what I mean? I just-” You huff out, frustrated and unable to explain yourself. He is so in love. He’s trying to hold back a smile at the pout that’s settled on your lips. “It’s okay baby. Just think about what you wanna say.”

Eddie holds your hand, his thumb stroking over it while he watches your eyebrows press together in deep thought before you start speaking again. “I just don’t understand why you don’t just feed off me..." His thumb halts its movements and you start to shrink into yourself. 

Eddie is breathing deeply while considering your question. His thumb starts moving again, releasing a breath of relief from you. He knows that you think about it. He can hear your heart speed up every time he goes near your neck, even when he’s kissing your hands. He’s even thought about it. He thinks about it all the time. He knows you taste good. He wants to have your blood pouring into his mouth every time he sees you. 

Unfortunately, he has zero trust in himself. Every time he thinks about tasting you, his amount of excitement stops him. He doesn’t trust that he has the amount of restraint he would need to exert to stop, he is terrified that he’ll suck you dry. 

“I’m a little dangerous, baby. I’m stronger than you remember? You- you wouldn’t be able to push me off”

The heat that rushes to your core surprises you a bit. 

Eddie can hear your heart speed up and it hurts, the split second that he assumes you’re scared of him feels like a lifetime. Then he feels you trying to push your way into his lap, and lets you. You place yourself on top of his thighs lightly before scooting up to sit your core directly above his. You sigh softly when Eddie’s boner presses into you perfectly. Your arms wrap around his waist before you look back up at him.

“I think I’d really like it.” Your words are starting to slur, it's late, and you’re high and unbelievably turned on. “You sucking my blood, I mean. I think it would feel really good, Eddie.” He’s twitching insanely from the confines of his pajama pants. He cannot believe the words coming out of your mouth. You won’t look at him, like you’re embarrassed by what you’re confessing like you don’t know what it's doing to him. You’re idly twisting your fingers into the fabric of his wife beater, your hips moving against him subconsciously. His hand comes you tilt your chin up so that you’re looking at him. The love, innocence, and arousal in your eyes take his breath away.

“I think you might. Uh, but-” He can’t focus. You're looking up at him with such admiration. You want him to drink you up so badly he can’t handle it. “Um. I- if we do,”

Your eyes widen and you press yourself against him harder, leaning into him, your chest pressing against his which is rumbling in laughter right now. “I said if, sweetheart. If we do, I cannot have your neck, that’s… It’ll be too much for me, all that blood flow..” He trails off as his gaze concentrates on the junction of your neck. He takes a steadying breath before tearing himself away, refocusing. “It’s just too easy for me to.. drain you from there.” He rushes the last part out, embarrassed at his lack of restraint. 

You’re looking into his eyes as he speaks and looks back into yours. You’re trying to get your brain to work, to focus on more than the way Eddie is pressing into your core, the way his breath is hitting your face as he speaks, and the way he’s looking at you. You can see the ghost of a smile on his lips as he watches you try and rally the few stray thoughts you have left in your head. You focus as much as you can and offer him your only idea. “My wrist?” 

He thinks about it for a moment before shaking his head at you, hurting your little heart in the process. “Still a vein baby, too much flow.” His sentences shorten as he gets dragged into your pool of yearning. An idea finally dawns on him. He twitches in his pants at the thought of actually being able to consume you. “Your hand- I can- It’ll run dry on its own”

You started nodding before he could even finish his sentence, your hand right in front of his face by the time it ended. He can feel the warmth coming off you. His gaze cautiously shifts from your eyes to your shaky hand. He can smell the blood underneath and his mouth is watering at the prospect of sinking his teeth into it. He pulls your hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss against your palm before wrapping his hand around your wrist. 

You wait, buzzing in his lap, for him to put his mouth on you. Your hand rests over his mouth gently, your thumb on his chin and your elbow hovering over his shoulder. Eddie’s eyes are closed lightly as you hear him inhale the scent emitting from your palm. His lips press against your palm as you feel his fangs slide out underneath them. His eyebrows are curved inward as he looks back into your eyes, he’s scared. 

You bring your other hand over the side of his face, stroking along his jawline before coming behind his head to gently push his mouth against your hand. You watch him closely, looking into his eyes to watch for refusal. His eyes stay on yours as his trembling lips part for the meat at the base of your thumb. You press your hand into his mouth and Eddie whimpers against it before sinking his teeth in. 

Pain shoots up your arm, tingling between your legs. Eddie’s eyes roll so far into his head that you see all white before his eyelids shut. He’s loud, groaning at your taste and moaning when his hips rock into yours. You watch him drink you up, he’s so messy, blood is all over his lips, smearing on the side of his mouth. You’re still stroking his hair as he devours you. You can feel your blood rushing like it’s all trying to get into Eddie. Your hips won’t stop moving against his as they buck into you. 

He drinks all the blood that flows out of your wound and removes his teeth. A moan shoots out of your mouth when you see your blood all over his lips, all over his teeth, his fangs. He smiles down at where you’ve dropped your head against his shoulder and starts licking around his bite. He’s still looking at you as he does it, watching the way your eyelids flutter as you look up at him, so lovingly for someone who just bit you. 

His gaze leaves you only when he stops getting blood from your wound, he wraps his lips around it delicately and sucks to get more. You feel his shoulders drop a bit in disappointment when nothing comes out. You drop that hand to his opposite shoulder from the one you’re on, and it comes behind to cradle his neck before pulling him in for a kiss that he rejects. 

You sit up and look at him, upset, hazy, and confused. You’re met with his wild eyes and mildly apologetic face. “I still have your blood on my face baby.” He’s speaking in a hushed whisper as though the sentence were some revelation. “It’s my blood, Eddie.” You respond with an incredulous giggle, your arms tightening around him before attempting to kiss him again. Only for him to pull away, again. “Yeah but my- my fangs are still out and I’m- and it’s dangerous”

You clock the unfinished sentence regardless of his attempt to cover it up. You analyze his face, trying to figure out what he was going to say but to no avail. “You’re what Eddie?” Your tone is accusatory and he notices, his eyes leaving yours the moment you voice the question. You mull over his sentence again, “Dangerous?” 

He turns his head away and you watch as his tongue nervously darts out to lick his lips, his eyelids flutter gently before his iris shoots to the corner of his eye, checking to see if you noticed. That’s when it clicks. 

He’s still hungry. 

As you think about it, of course he is. You don’t know how much he drinks from other people. You know that he’s holding back, that he’s scared, of course he wouldn't drink his fill. You’re still lost in thought when Eddie turns back to look at you, he waits for you to look up at him but you never do. “Can we just drop it?”

You look up at him with a smile that baffles him. You come up to kiss him on his cheek as he watches you expectantly, waiting for you to explain yourself. 

“Your needs matter Eddie, you can’t keep them from me. I need to know what you need for me to give it to you and it’s so much easier if you tell me up front.” You bring your unwounded hand to his face and slide your thumb across his lips, gathering the smeared blood as best you can before pushing it into his mouth. He’s stock still as you press your thumb against his tongue, his only movement is his lips closing to suck up every drop. You hold his eye contact as you pull your thumb from his mouth and press your palm to his mouth. “I know you want more Eddie”

His eyes water as his lips begin to tremble against you once again. You bite into your lip when you feel Eddie harden up underneath you again, pressing up against your clit this time due to the way you’re angled toward him. His eyelids flutter when his clothed tip pushes up into your plush lips. 

He keeps looking into your eyes as you press his head to your hand, as you did before. He’s holding back whimpers as he sinks his fangs into the soft skin of your hand. He feels your skin push, break, and slide against him. He can feel the gushing of your blood as it pushes through the puncture he’s made in your skin, he can feel the warmth as it surrounds his teeth, spilling into his mouth.

Eddie starts thrusting up into you like he can’t help it, his hands are on your lower back and hip, pressing you against him just the way he wants it.  His eyes are on you as he continues to drink his fill, he’s tracking you’re reaction, the way your hips speed up when he presses his teeth harder into your wound. 

He feels it, he’s getting high off your blood. His body getting more and more sensitive the longer he drinks you up.

 You can feel your pussy leak into his pants, getting his cock wet with it when he twitches up into you. Your eyes slip shut as you begin to grind against him with purpose, feeling something starting to tighten in your stomach. You watch Eddie as he drinks down all the blood he can, moaning into your hand while looking right into your eyes. You hold his contact as you feel your climax build. Eddie can feel your muscles contracting over his cock and it has him spilling pre-cum through his pants and smearing on you. His lips finally part from your hand and he’s immediately kissing you.

You can taste copper on his lips, in his mouth as he moans into yours. He’s brought one hand up to push your face into his while he keeps the other on your lower back, guiding you against him. He’s pressing his face into your neck, inhaling your scent greedily. “Oh fuck. Thank you so much, baby. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

You moan lewdly into his ear while he expresses his gratitude, his hips thrusting up into your pussy like he’s fucking you. “Eddie,” You drag his name out into a whine in a way that has his hips stuttering against you and him moaning out into your neck. “Holy shit- Eddie I’m so close- fuck.”

He’s in his own world, grunting into you gruffly, his whole body tense as he chases his high. You can feel his mouth open in a silent moan before he’s shaking and cumming against you, his face still buried in your neck, eyes shut tight. He keeps pulling you over his cock as it pulses, he doesn’t have any rhythm but you just want him to feel good. You’re so close, right there, but you can’t get over the edge, and Eddie is going to be out of commission for the night. You almost accept your fate, that you’ll have to take one for the team but then you feel them. His fangs shoot out as he releases one last howling moan and goes limp on you. 

You feel his fangs scrape over the skin of your neck, ever so slightly but it sets your whole body alight. Pleasure shoots up your spine, straightening your spine before you’re gripping Eddie with all the strength in your body. He moans and his hand comes around to toy with your clit. His mouth opens and filth come out. 

“Such a good girl for me, baby. Letting me drink you all up, got you all messy in your panties in the process huh?”

He circles your clit once. 

“Fuck you tasted so good too, like sipping on fucking juice, sweetheart. F- felt like I was gonna cum from the moment I could taste it.”

He presses his thumb against your clit, hard.

“You’ll let me do it again right? Your blood is my new favorite taste- shit, I might be addicted to you already, baby.”

You’re gushing. Your whole body is trembling in Eddie’s hold from the force of your orgasm. You slam your eyes shut as you moan around the syllables of his name. Your hips shove themselves against Eddie’s fingers and you whine for him while soaking your underwear.

Everything is fuzzy when you open your eyes again, you can hear Eddie cooing at you in your ear, he’s stroking his hand over the expanse of your back as the other one grips the back of your neck, holding you to him. You feel a rush of air and you’re sitting on the kitchen counter.

“Gotta stay hydrated, baby you uh, you lost a lot of blood.” He chuckles to himself nervously before grabbing the cup of water and holding it out for you. Your arms don’t attempt to move from where they’re wrapped around his neck, he’s so warm and you’re sure that glass is cold so what’s the point. You’re just staring at him with you’re adorable fucked out expression, he smiles fondly before holding the cup up to your lips for you. You take a few sips, drinking about a quarter of the cup before pulling away to collapse into Eddie. He whispers “Good job, baby.” before placing a kiss on your forehead. 

Another rush of air and you’re back in bed, your head on Eddie’s chest with the blankets pulled up to your neck. You try to hide your smile as you realize this is the most of Eddie’s vampire side that he’s ever showed you. 

“What are you thinking about? Can hear your heart racing.”

“Just about how much I love you.” You respond with a delirious giggle. “Every part”

You hear Eddie take a breath before he pulls you fully on top of him and kisses you stronger than he has in the past month. “I promise that I love you more, baby”

You drift to sleep as Eddie watches, all night.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading!! Please please please give any feedback you may have! I want it all!

[taskforce420]

leaked. simon 'ghost' riley

it was obvious something had happened, the way people stared at you as you walked past them, they watched as your hips moved, and chest bounced. however- you couldn't understand why everyone had taken some kind of liking to your figure randomly. there was no need for them to, you wore the same kind of clothes everyday around the base.

it wasn't until your captain jogged over to you and pulled you into his office, along with your fellow team mates, that you finally realised something bad had happened. it was obvious that your captain, price, felt a little uncomfortable in explaining the situation. he stumbled over his words a little, he cleared his throat far to much and for gods sake- why does he keep pacing?!

"for christ sake cap, what's goin' on?" you finally spoke up, looking at him and everyone else in the room with a frown. price, and the others looked down as you spoke, apart from one. ghost.

"the fella you, stupidly, got yourself associated with- has leaked somethin' of yours" ghost spoke with his awfully dull tone. you could have sworn you felt you heart and soul leave your body, my eyes stayed glued to his.

"what.." you finally muttered out, in complete and utter disbelief. the man you once trusted with those kind of photos had completely disregarded your wishes of deleting those images you had sent him a while ago.

"he hasn't sent them to anyone, but he's been showing them to people." ghost continued on, crossing his arms across his chest and looking down at you. he was...disappointed in you, thought you were better then to send those kind of photos to someone; but we all know he didn't understand why you did what you did, he doesn't understand why anyone does it to be honest.

you were stunned, how the hell were you supposed to get out of this? sure you could talk to that foolish man you once liked, but that probably wouldn't end very well, you couldn't delete it off his phone..

"what am i supposed to do?" you finally spoke up, your voice a little shaky and desperate. it was embarrassing to admit but you sent those photos because he asked you to and you thought, you liked him; but little did you know you was using him as a distraction. trying to keep you feelings hidden for someone else.

it sounds bad, but he was using you just as much as you were using him. he only cared about one thing, nudes, and he was willing to do whatever he could to get them off you and if that meant filling your head with sweet nothings then that's exactly what he'd do.

price looked up as you spoke, he heard the pain in your voice and god it was horrible. he knew about the issues of men leaking photos around the base, it happened more often then he'd like to admit, but seeing you in this mess; a sweet, caring lady with the desire to do good and treat those around her with nothing but respect, pissed him off.

it pissed everyone off, soap, gaz, but one in particular was ghost.

you couldn't tell, but his eyes were squinted, his teeth clenched, his breathing heavy, and his hand squeezing his own bicep out of anger. sure, it was annoyed at you, but he was far more angry at the man who threw your trust out of the window and purposefully showed you off. how could he?!

"i'll talk to em'" ghost finally spoke up, you and the others looked at him, dumbfounded.

"si, you don't have to do that. i-i'll handle it on my own, after all its m-" he cut you off, you were right. it was your own fault, but he knew how you felt and he was not about to let you deal with it on your own.

"don't be daft, i'll sort it" and he was gone. straight out the door of caps office. the door slammed behind him and you bit your cheek nervously.

"well, thats tha' sorted" soap said, and god was he right.

it was only the next day, and people stopped staring. their eyes no longer followed you or your chest as you walked, no, instead they stared at the ground or simply refused to look your way. it was hard not to smile to yourself. oh, simon. the man you are.

it was now even more harder to mask your feelings for him, he helped you, without a second thought.

where you walked into his office to ask him about it, he immediately looked up at you, his hands stopped typing away at the computer. you let out a small hi, as you closed the door to his office and made your way to the desk.

he replied with a small nod of his head and a quick, you okay?. "im okay, thank you for talking to him" tilting your head a little with a small smile.

he took notice of you small gesture and smirked under his mask, so pretty.. he leaned back into the chair. "'course love".

[ezdotjpg]

do you have any directors commentary on the recent two updates? 👉👈 the color palette is absolutely lovely! and and and WOLF!! :DD

OH BOY DO I

In the original draft of this chapter, Wolf stays a, uh, wolf until like the 4th update. Instead of actually managing to get his teeth on the master sword, Loft threw him off immediately. The Deku Tree still said the line about all three of them being heroes and Slate is like. “Including the fucking dog????!” I thought it was very funny but a) it made some scenes later down the line a huge pain and b) I was tired of drawing wolves ALDKDKD

You may have noticed Wolf’s scowling in the bg of almost every panel. That’s kind of just his face, but also right now my guy is nursing the world’s biggest migraine from popping the shadow crystal out of his skull. He can stay wolfmode for a while, but it’s still technically a curse. It’s not consequence free, and there’s an upper limit for how long he can spend in that form. Anyway, cut him some slack if he’s a little prickly for a bit.

There were a lot of comments about Loft being strong enough to toss a wolf over his head lol. My hc is that he’s one of, if not the strongest Link sans any magic items like power bracelets or gauntlets. He’s actually not even as strong now as he was during his quest. Wolf maybe has him beat now, but he can still get tossed lolol

It might seem like Slate’s really taken everything that happened at the end of ch1 in stride, but don’t worry. He’s simmering. Loft is grateful for the opportunity to get distracted by something else. Maybe that’s why he was so willing to approach the wild animal he’s never seen before lol

This maybe goes without saying based on the events of the last two updates, but Slate never had wolf link with him during the events of botw. He doesn’t recognize Wolf.

I’m really glad ppl seem to be liking the colors bc I struggled with them so hard on both updates 🫠literally days of me turning to my roommate and going “I think I’ve never made anything worse” and them going “it looks good stop being dramatic” WKDJDK I have this thing where if I had an idea in my head for what an update should look like, and what I produce doesn’t meet it somehow, I start seeing in fucking. shrimp colors. Posting always gives me a confidence boost back lol.

these pages were cursed in general bc like. this doesn’t usually happen but I think I redrew every panel in this update at least 5 times each. that’s part of why it ended up being late SKDJF

I REALLY like the idea of being in the presence of the Triforce and having access to its power being this eldritch, divinely horrifying experience. The sort of thing that is impossible to explain to anyone and also haunts you forever. Loft spends a lot of time actively trying not to think about the Triforce. Just, like, remember that about him.

Like how tears in reality are shown through holes in the literal comic panels, I tried to show the concept of reality bending in the form of a panel stretching and twisting like a ribbon ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ I hope that came across. Triforce lore varies a bit from game to game, but I’ve come up with my own internal logic for bonus links that combines all the ideas I like lolol. We’ll learn more about it in due time!

I also really like this parallel :D I intentionally set up the panels so past and present loft would line up like this. i love getting to draw flashback links it’s so fun to think of ways to convey what they used to be like, and how their quests might have gone for them. Past Loft’s not having a great time by the time he reaches this point lol

I think that’s all I’ve got for now. Thanks for asking :D

[sailorstar9]

My Stepsister Seduces My Husband, But What She Doesn’t Know Is That...

F/N and Zhongli had their wedding shortly after the Lantern Rite Festival.

Everyone thought F/N found a handsome man, not knowing the truth. They were all deceived by his chiselled face and body; F/N's step-sister was one of those deceived. Because no one, save for the Adepti in Liyue Harbor, knew that Zhongli was the Prime Adepti.

After the most recent 'Rite of Descension', he started to work at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour as its consultant.

A few days after the Lantern Rite Festival, F/N brought Zhongli home to visit her parents. They brought along three large boxes of gifts along with Gaming and a fellow guard from the Transport Agency. It was Zhongli first meeting with his wife's family.

The presence of Zhongli and the two Transport Agency guards scared F/N's biological father and stepmother.

The dinner table was set after Zhongli paid Gaming and his partner for their services.

F/N's step-sister, dressed to the nines, kept helping Zhongli to food, trying to impress him. “My sister is merely a junior tax agent working at the Ministry of Civil Affairs. And yet she found such a wonderful man like brother-in-law. I envy her; unlike me who works hard training under Director Yun every day, afraid to eat more just to maintain my figure. I might be able to perform alongside the Director some day and may not even find a partner as good as brother-in-law.” she sighed, showing off by pinching her slim waist.

F/N's step-sister, Zhen Yu, was brought by F/N's stepmother; their two families were from divorced and remarried families.

A few years ago, F/N's mother died from a rock slide while working at The Chasm. Shortly after that, F/N's father quickly got together with Zhen Yu's mother after a meeting with the marriage broker.

Ever since Zhen Yu entered the household, the two step-sisters never got along. Zhen Yu especially loved competing with F/N. When Y/N pulled her hair into a bun with a hair stick, Zhen Yu would also bun up her hair the next day with an extra hair stick. When F/N was thirteen, a boy from the neighbourhood gave her a love letter. Zhen Yu then intentionally wore a floral dress in front of him and claiming F/N was dirty and didn't bathe. Seeing the boy flee from embarrassment, Zhen Yu smirked to herself. Later, when F/N approached Yun Jin for an apprenticeship, Zhen Yu followed suit and applied. She cried pitifully, saying she didn't dare to ask for much. And if her real father was around, he would definitely be willing to send her.

The Yun-Han Opera Troupe apprenticeship fees were very high and the family could only afford to send one person.

F/N's father, feared being accused of favouritism by his new wife, sent Zhen Yu to Yun Jin.

F/N gritted her teeth and started working, using the Mora she saved from her salary to pay for her way through law school.

Later, when F/N brought a classmate home to introduce him as her boyfriend, Zhen Yu also stole him from F/N.

At this moment, when Zhongli heard Zhen Yu's words, he put down his chopsticks with a bang. He frowned slightly but didn't say anything, just overturning his bowl on the table. “My apologies.” he started. “I don't like anyone, except my wife, serving me food. I'm disgusted by the saliva.”

Zhen Yu was stunned, her face flashed with embarrassment. She looked at Zhongli plaintively, “I'm not a stranger.” she whined.

Zhongli did not say a word and just pointed his knee with a finger. “Move your feet under the table away from my legs.”

F/N peered under the table cloth, noticing Zhen Yu's foot was reaching under her chair to try and touch Zhongli's leg.

Zhen Yu was instantly dumbfounded; after all, this trick of hers always worked. It's not something a normal person would point out directly. Seeing everyone in the family glance at her, she was so embarrassed that she quickly explained, “Brother-in-law, have you all misunderstood something? If you don't like me serving food, it's okay. I know my sister is usually petty, but I really don't mean anything by it.”

F/N's step-mother immediately spoke up, “Mr. Zhongli, this is Zhen Yu's goodwill. She usually looks down on everyone, never being so gentle and caring. It's just a kind gesture. Did F/N say anything to cause you to misunderstand?”

F/N father also chimed in, “Our table is small. Bumps are inevitable. Don't think so much about it. Zhen Yu is just caring for her brother-in-law.”

As F/N watched her father's and step-mother's behaviour, she couldn't help but sneer. Zhen Yu had done this kind of thing not just once or twice; they had always turned a blind eye and they weren't any different now.

As soon as they finished speaking, Zhongli unbuttoned the top button of his suit with a somewhat amused smile. F/N was about to get angry at her father's words, but he patted her shoulder. Then, he manifested a sharp Geo shard from his palm. Letting the shard twirl above his palm, he said, “F/N has told me everything about the family. Let me make it clear to you all. F/N is my wife. If you still want to bully her in the future, don't blame me for being ruthless.” snarling at the three of them after he dispelled the Geo shard, he added, “Respecting you as F/N's parents, I won't speak any dirty words. If you don't want trouble, don't let your attention wander to my wife.”

F/N's father opened his mouth, his face red with rage, wanting to say something, but he knew he was helpless against a Vision user. Infuriated and trembling, he yelled, “How dare you... how could you find such ruffians?”

F/N simply cleared her throat and grabbed Zhongli's arm. “Ruffians? Dad, don't talk nonsense. Don't you know Zhongli is a renowned consultant at Wangsheng Funeral Parlour?”

Zhen Yu and F/N's step-mother's faces turned so ugly it could have dripped ink. They probably couldn't continue eating that meal.

Zhongli didn't say much as the conversation had ended. “it's getting late.” he started. “You should rest early. I'll take F/N home.” with that, he wrapped his arm around F/N's waist and walked away.

Turning back to her childhood home as she and Zhongli walked to the walk path, F/N saw Zhen Yu glaring furiously. F/N, it's not over between us. She swore. I must have your man. There's no cat in the world that doesn't steal fish. Just you wait and see.

“Looks like my step-sister has set her sights on you.” F/N turned to Zhongli.

F/N was surprised when her father paid her a visit at her workplace, bringing ham to apologize.

“Your mother's favourite was ham, you know.” F/N's father spoke, picking a piece of Minty Meat Roll at Wanmin Restaurant at lunchtime.”

“Alright.” F/N sighed, knowing her father's underlying intentions. “Here's the address.” she wrote down her current lodging address on a piece of paper.

“Let Zhen Yu bring them over to you.” F/N's father suggested. “She also wants to apologize to you.”

Using family ties to deceive me. F/N wondered after her father left the restaurant after paying for his share of the meal. Was it just a ploy to get Zhen Yu my address? It seemed like my sister hadn't given up; still determined to win Zhongli over.

Sure enough, that weekend, Zhen Yu showed up at F/N's door, knocking. She was dressed in a figure-hugging qipao and high heels.

Seeing F/N answer the door, she hesitated for moment, collecting her flirtatious look. “Your place is hard to find. My feet ache from all that walking.” she whined.

“Then, why don't you hire a transport agency?” F/N was not amused.

“How could I?” Zhen Yu complained. “I've come to apologize in person. I wasn't being polite the other day.”

Then, she simply entered without taking off her shoes and gave a glance around. “Is Zhongli not at home?”

“He's out getting bamboo shoots.” F/N answered, just as Zhongli came in with several bamboo shoots in a basket.

As soon as he saw Zhen Yu, his eyebrows farrowed and he gave F/N a questioning look.

“I couldn't help it.” F/N shrugged. “She sticks like glue.”

Zhen Yu's eyes lit up when she saw Zhongli. She practically skipped over, but before she could take a few steps, she tripped and fell in front of the married couple. She rubbed her legs awkwardly, “I think I sprained my foot. Honey, could you help me up?”

“You're an adult and you can't even walk properly without tripping on flat ground.” F/N chided. “Maybe you should get checked up at the Bubu Pharmacy.”

Zhen Yu pouted when Zhongli just walked over her and into the kitchen.

“Why bother with her?” the Lord of Geo looked at his wife as they prepared ingredients for Oncidium Tofu.

“She's like a rush that you can't shake off.” F/N replied, slicing the tofu.

Zhen Yu, feeling awkward, noticed that neither of the couple were paying attention to her. After a while, she picked herself up before darting towards the kitchen. “Is Zhongli the one who cooks at home? It must be hard for you; working to support the family then coming home to cook for my sister. When I have a husband, I won't let him cook for me. Cooking is women's work. Men shouldn't be in the kitchen.”

Zhongli poured himself a cup of Chenyu Brew, blew across the tea cup and took a sip to calm himself down. Rolling up his sleeves, he downed the entire cup, revealing his entire sleeve tattoo. “What's on the menu tonight? Let's cook this.” he looked coldly at Zhen Yu.

“Cook...” Zhen Yu stuttered, her face turning pale at the golden diamond-shaped tattoos decorating Zhongli's arms. “In our house, both of us handle the inside. Do you have a problem with that?”

“I don't have a problem.” Zhen Yu stammered. “I just feel sorry for my sister. It's not easy for you.”

“You're not someone to me.” Zhongli replied dismissively. “Why should I pity you?”

F/N pulled the still shell-shocked Zhen Yu away, “It's better to just give up. Not all men fall for your tricks.”

“Wasn't my brother-in-law just joking?” Zhen Yu recomposed herself with a forced smile as she prepared to leave F/N's house. “He's really funny.”

“Don't worry, mom.” Zhen Yu assured her mother once she returned home. “There was a small mistake there. There's no man I can't handle. I'm set on winning Zhongli and making F/N miserable. You didn't visit their house. You don't know they live in a house bigger than ours and they have more antiques than us. It's just her husband seems a bit off but rich people all have their quirks. It's normal. F/N is not as attractive as me. Why should she have such a good husband? She must have tricked him. Wait and see. I used to steal all her boyfriends. Now I will steal her husband too. Men are all the same.”

“Now, what is this about the ex-fiance of yours?” Zhongli breathed, the couple were cuddling in bed after a night of lovemaking.

Acting upon Zhen Yu's instigation, F/N's former fiance had harassed the couple during lunchtime.

“He's just a cheating scumbag that's not worth mentioning.” F/N replied. “We cut off any contact a long time ago. Zhen Yu is bothering you, not me.”

“So, someone's still yearning for your husband and you're not jealous?” Zhongli quirked an amused smile.

“Of course, I get jealous.” F/N playfully poked Zhongli's bare chest. “But I know not everyone can seduce my man.”

Days later, F/N's relatives begun to gossip about Zhen Yu's dismissal from her apprenticeship. She had bullied her fellow junior troupe members and attempted to seduce the troupe elders' sons to get more prominent roles which backfired when Zhongli made a formal complaint of her misconduct directly to Yun Jin. She was permanently expelled from the opera troupe, ending her dreams of performing alongside the troupe director.

[novashelby]

His Beautiful~A Tommy Shelby Smut: 18+ only.

Pairing: TommyxFem!Reader

Prompt: They didn't send one, but I did use #59 from this list.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Some dub-con, rough smut, degrading language, spit, spanking. Maybe gaslighting?

Summary: Tommy and his new wife spend some special time together during their honeymoon. Tommy's the little bossy pants he usually is. Request by @elenavampire21.

A/N: Please, please for the love of it...please reblog and/comment. Like are so sweet and I am happy you are reading my stuff. But reblogs and comments help writers out.

He loved her. He had to have loved her, right? That’s the only reason he waited until marriage like she wanted. It was hard. A whole six months of watching her body sway as she walked. Each day he had been more and more eager, and his left hand was not cutting it. Of course, a visit to a whore house would have been satisfactory enough, but he promised her. Fucking promises! And since he loved her, right? He had to stay honest. Something Tommy Shelby struggled a bit with. 

The previous night had been their wedding. Just a small thing. It was his third after all and the older he got, the less he gave any care to frills and luxury. They were married in a small church and then after, joined their family for a meal and dance. Both were too tired to fuck after. But the next day was their honeymoon. He decided to take her to the countryside far from the city grit and pollution. She was a city girl, though, and when she hopped from the caravan, looking around the empty greenery, she cocked her head. Turning to him, she winced. “Oh, it’s….lovely?”

Tommy snorted, wiping his greasy hands with a dirty white cloth. They popped a wheel and he’d been fixing it the whole time she finished a nap. “You’re awake. We’ve been here for a couple of hours. I figure we can relax out here for a few days before heading back-”

“This is our honeymoon?” she asked, wanting clarification.

Tommy could read people very well, and she was no different. Stress lines tainted her beautiful face. A city girl like herself hardly could consider this a honeymoon, and he understood that. But he needed to get away, and as his wife, she should have understood his needs. “I can tell you are not happy,” he commented. “But this is where we are staying. The fresh air will do you good.” He walked over to her, softening his face a bit. Gently, he rubbed her cheek. “Besides, you know we are all alone out here?”

She gave him an unamused look, arms crossed. “Thomas-”

“Just you and I, me and you,” he whispered, leaning down and placing a kiss on her forehead. She whined as he did so, turning her head. Sighing, he commented, “you’re a fucking brat. This is our first day as husband and wife, why the theatrics, hm?” 

“Because, Thomas! This is not a honeymoon,” she explained, motioning to the nothingness around her. To her, she was being completely reasonably annoying. But to him, she was being a selfish little brat. “This is a-”

“Shhh,” he said, wanting her to calm herself. He smiled, dragging his fingers down to her hips before bringing her in. “Don’t you understand, hm? You and I are alone out here, sweetheart. Just you and I.” 

“I know,” she pressed, still not pleased. But she was not getting his hints. 

“You are so innocent,” he teased, kissing her cheek, lingering there for a quick moment before dragging his lips up to her ear. He grinned, taking her lobe between his teeth, tugging teasingly. Appalled, she crouched her neck, wincing just a tad. 

“Thomas!” What he did next took her for a loop. His other hand found its way to her neck. Her instinct was to scream and gasp for all the air her lungs could suck in. Stuck in a mode of panic, she hardly realized he wasn’t choking her. His fingers only pressed lightly against her pulse. Her hand rested over his. Breath rapid, she asked, “what are you doing?” 

While preoccupied with the hold against her throat, he dragged his other hand between her legs. With no patience for anything getting in his way, he quickly bunched up her skirts and shoved his hand between her thighs, pressing up against her silk panties. Resting his forehead against hers, he peered down. Quietly with a sharp edge, he said, “trying to see. Does my little wife have any edge to her? Or is she always just going to be so…good.”

“Thomas!” she hissed, trying to pull his hand off of her crotch. “Thomas, we are outside. We can’t do this outside. What if someone sees?” 

“Who?” he chuckled. “The birds? Have you not been listening, it’s just you and I out here.” His fingers pressed a bit harder against her neck when she opened her mouth to protest. Her string of words came out as a pile of whimpers. Perhaps he was a bit selfish in what he wanted. A highly sexed man having to wait six months, that hardly equals patience. Of course, he pictured swooning her and spoiling her in the mix of the bedsheets. Making sure to kiss every aspect of her body, making sure she felt loved and adored. But in that moment, he just wanted to fuck. Any inkling of intimacy slipped away and the thought of making love seemed tedious. A little sliver of him felt guilty that her first time would be getting railed raw over rock. But maybe seeing as how much of a pain in the ass she has been, maybe it was her thing. A little pain and roughness. “Come on, beautiful,” he cooed, eying the lump of rocks just off to the side. “You are so beautiful…my beautiful wife.” She resisted against him, attempting to dig her heels into the wet ground.

“Outside?” she protested. “Please, Thomas…let’s go inside and do it.”

“Oh, but we will,” he chuckled, picking her up. She yelped loud enough to move the mountains in the far off distance. “Shh, shhh,” he told her, accompanied with a light smack to her behind. Despite her hesitations, he brought her to the rocks and sat her down. “Love, I want you to feel comfortable with me-”

“Thomas,” she warned, jaw tight, clearly not pleased with her new husband. “I’ve ruined my skirts! And look at my boots-”

“You married a Gypsy,” he pointed out. “The fuck I care about your skirts and boots. Now, we are on our honeymoon.” He slid from his suspender straps before his fingers started to work at his belt clasp. “And from what I recall, our honeymoon is to celebrate our marriage.” She looked up at him from her new seat, a mix of annoyance and admiration. 

“We have a mattress in the caravan, for fucks sake, Thomas,” she complained, but before she could get another word out, he picked her up and placed belly flat over the rock. She was slowly giving in as her walls broke down. “Mattress would have been better, but….” She sighed and positioned herself for him; ass arched and legs spread just enough. “I know you aren’t about to fuck me without any forepay-”

“Sweety,” he said, in a mocking tone as he bunched her skirt up over ass and gave it a love tap. “You’re a virgin. What do you know of foreplay? Hmm? Maybe you don’t get foreplay because you’re acting like a whiny little brat. Maybe I just want to use you.” He was teasing her of course, but his poor little wife had not an idea of his antics. Pouting, she looked back at him pathetically. Winking, his finger pulled down her panties while his other hand lazily stroked at his cock.

“That’s mean,” she accused, wiggling her behind a bit, feeling a pool of desperation build. Tommy glanced down at her arched ass, grinning to himself as he positioned his cock. “Warm me up, Tommy, please?” The tip of cock pressed against her entrance. 

“No,” he said, leaving it at that as he rested his chest against her back as he leaned over her. He watched as her fingers clung to anything she could, white knuckling. It was as if she was preparing for something painful. The tip pushed in and he rested there for a moment, gasping as her virgin walls broke around him. She sucked in her lips, muffling whatever moans wanted to come through. Reading her eyes, she was aroused. He could tell. His beautiful wife always loved his upper hand. He was sure she found it thrilling to fight against him. Pushing in further, he let out a long, deep throated groan. To steady himself, he slipped one hand under her, resting his palm against her left breast. His other found its home around her neck. “Good girl. You feel so good wrapped around me. I think you were made specially for me, you know that?” he breathed in her ear, ending his sentence with a teasing kiss. 

She whined, trying to inch forward to release the tension pain burning her lower half. It would have been nice if he prepped her. But that would require Tommy Shelby to be nice. To be nice and put his needs last. Unfortunately, if she wanted that, she married the wrong Shelby. “It hurts,” she told him.

“You’re fine,” he replied, in an attempt to dismiss her concerns. “It feels exactly how it should feel. It doesn’t hurt.” He left a trail of kisses along her jaw before meeting her lips. “Give me a kiss.” He was pleasantly surprised she didn’t fight him, reaching up a bit to place a soft peck to his lips. “Good girl. My beautiful wife. Look at me…I want to see your face.`` Their eyes connected. Teasingly, his index finger ran circles over her nipples. The sensation started off small until it crept up on her. He watched as her eyes became heavy and hooded. Just a simple touch like that had her clenching herself around him, sucking him in. “You like this.” 

“Thomas,” she gasped out, her hips slowly pulling away only to push up against him. In the midst of pleasure was still a little bit of pain, making her hiss through clench teeth. He started to slowly move with her, wondering if he’d even last long enough as it’d been too long since he had pussy. Especially a pussy as pretty and perfect as hers.

“What if,” he started, a chuckle mixed with a desperate, feral grunt, lacing his words. “What if your’re just a fucking hole, hm?” His words were like a poisonous berry; sweet, but deadly to her emotions. Just a hole? Her eyes rolled back before she even could comprehend how much she liked it. He picked up the speed, his balls lightly bouncing off her puffy clit. “Only a fucking hole.” His index and ring finger slipped between her lips, needy to hear those choking and gurgling noises. Muffled, she tried to tell him something, but he didn’t care. “Shut up,” he told her, closing his eyes, lost in his thrusts that became increasingly fast. “Just a hole…that’s all you are to me. A hole I can breed and own.” He pulled back and paused before slammed himself against her, letting out a loud moan. “Fuck! Yeah? You like that! Nod for me….” She nodded, whimpering. Her face was getting beat red with insults and abuse, but it wasn’t a complete lie. She did like it. She liked how feral he was in wanting to fuck her. 

His pace became fast and steady, as his pleasure built up. The air mixed with their moans and spewed, incomprehensible words. “My pleasure is your fucking pleasure,” he continued. “You like this…you like being a…fuck…ah! You like being a filthy wife for me.” He continued to drill the thought process into her as his thrusts become uneven and ragged. “Take it…fucking take me!” His hands scratched down her sides before gripping her hips, fingers digging into her sensitive flesh. 

“Tommy!” she groaned out, trying to meet his pace by slamming back her hips. She threw back her head, eyes rolling back. “Shit! More-I want more…rub my clit.” She pleaded for him to pleasure her. It was a need. But he refused.

“No,” he forced out, breaths hitched and uneven. “Fuck…fuck, baby. My wife, such a perfect cunt.” With one last slam, he held himself there, feeling his orgasm take over him. Panting, he laid over her, running kisses on her clothed shoulder. “My beautiful wife,” he got out one last time before sliding off. “Come on,” he cooed, pulling at her legs. She was so limp and weak, legs shaking. “Turn over, baby.” She was too faded to argue, simply going limp for him to turn her over. “Let me look,” he whispered, kneeling down to study between her legs. It was beautiful; red and fucked with a line of of cum seeping out. Without warning, he got in close and stuck out his tongue, pressing it against her pussy, tasting their mixed cum. She was anticipating something erotic, feeling at her breasts and getting into the rhythm of rolling her hips against his tongue. Unfortunately for her, he stopped as soon as he started. It wasn’t meant to pleasure her, but to get her right on the edge. To be at his mercy. He mounted over her and gripped her, pushing her mouth open before spitting in her mouth. “Good girl, my beautiful wife,” he said, watching it pool. She swallowed it, wincing. Sweetly, he kissed her lips with a smile. “My beautiful wife, I love you…and thank you for humoring my needs. Tonight, it will be your turn and I will make you very, very happy.”

She whacked him playfully with a pout. “You better. You just spit in my fucking mouth!”

He laughed and pinched her chin. “I’ll do it again, y’know? If you don’t watch yours!”

[kckt88]

Hidden In Plain Sight.

Summary:

The dance is done and Aemond has been crowned King, after being pressured by his council he followed through on his marriage to Floris Baratheon. However Aemond holds no love for the wife that he was forced to take and instead continues to seek the company of his true love, his niece Jacaera.

Warnings - Angst, Drama, Langauage, Reference to Captivity, References to Smut, Infidelity, Character Death, Manipulation, Scheming.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C NIECE

Word Count: 8419

GREENS WIN - AEMOND IS KING!!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8

"Another one—have you no shame, Aemond? What of your wife?" fumed Alicent, her voice echoing off the stone walls.

Aemond's eye remained fixed on the dark liquid in his cup, swirling it gently. He had no love for Floris Baratheon, the wife forced upon him by his mother and the council after the war.

Floris, with her Baratheon blood and boring demeanour, could never compare to his niece, his beloved sweet Jacaera.

Aemond's thoughts drifted to Jacaera, the warmth of her smile, the way her eyes lit up when she laughed and the way she would gasp and moan his name as he feasted on her delicious cunt like a man starved, or how she looked when she peaked around his cock.

Although he would never forget the look of hurt on her face when he told her that he would have to follow through on his promise and take Floris as his wife.

He explained that he held no care or love for Floris, that she would never have his heart he had begged for her mercy, for her understanding, and she eventually granted it. His dragoness was vicious with him that night, clawing at his body and sinking her teeth into his flesh as he fucked her hard.

Not too long after his wedding, Jacaera had given him the news that she was with child, and it pleased him immensely.

He had granted her rooms in one of the towers in the Red Keep, keeping her away from the eyes of his lady wife, who he held no interest for.

He would visit his niece often, admiring her belly swollen with his seed. He would spend hours curled up with her, his hands running over her soft flesh, feeling the babe within move.

He was truly blessed the day she birthed his babe, marvelling at the wonderous gift she had granted him, not one but two babes. His sons, his little dragons.

Oh, how perfect they were, their silver hair and amethyst eyes.

He cared not for the opinions of his council, his mother or even his wife who’s face quickly soured with jealousy when word of his sons reached her.

Admittedly she did try to be a good Queen and wife, but it was all for naught, for his heart, mind and soul belonged to Jacaera.

Every moment he was not attending to his duty as King he was with his sons, determined to be the father he never had, his sons would know of him, the would know of his love and they would know above all that they were wanted.

"-Aemond, are you even listening to me?" Alicent's voice brought him back to the present. Her green eyes were fierce, a storm brewing within them.

He looked up at his mother, his expression calm despite the turmoil around him. "I hear you, Mother," he replied, his voice steady. "But what is done is done”

Alicent's face contorted with frustration and sorrow. "Your actions have consequences, Aemond. You cannot simply disregard your responsibilities. Floris is your wife, and you have a duty to her."

"Duty," Aemond repeated, a hint of bitterness in his tone. "All I’ve done is my duty and where has that got me? Where has that got us? the war has taken its toll, on us and the realm. What about my duty to myself? To my own happiness?"

Alicent shook her head, her voice softening. "Happiness, Aemond, comes with sacrifice. Your rule as King is precarious, your Queen is not with child-the council ceaselessly whisper about your lack of heir”.

“The fault is not mine, as I seem to have no trouble siring children with Jacaera-“

“Perhaps if you lay with your wife more often than that bastard girl, then you would be blessed with trueborn children."

Aemond's grip tightened on the cup. "Floris does not rouse my-interest. You knew I never wanted her. Yet you and the rest of the dogs on the council forced her upon me, knowing where my heart truly lies."

Alicent's eyes narrowed. "Matters of the heart do not compare to the matters of the realm. Your known taste for strong bastards only serves to bring shame and embarrassment to your reign."

The veiled reference to his rumoured involvement with the witch Alys Rivers did not go unnoticed. Aemond's jaw clenched, but he refused to be swayed. "I will not set aside Jacaera."

Alicent paced the length of Aemond's chambers, her fury barely contained. The girl should have been executed the moment she was brought to the Red Keep, but Aemond's obsession for her had prevented such an act. He had pleaded with Aegon to let him keep her, and to her utter horror, Aegon had agreed.

Aemond would then spend hours sequestered away in his chambers with the bastard girl.

Sometimes, Alicent would receive reports of raised voices and the sounds of things being thrown, the maids witness to the destruction of their arguments.

But then there would be reports of noises of pleasure, unmistakable and shameless. Aemond's need for Jacaera was evident, and he showed no concern for discretion, not then and certainly not now.

Alicent's face twisted with disgust “You are shameless in your need for her."

Aemond's expression remained impassive, though a flicker of annoyance crossed his features. "Jacaera is not the monster you paint her to be. She is—"

"A vicious seductress who has bewitched my favoured son!" Alicent cut him off, her voice rising. "She is nothing more than a remnant of Rhaenyra's treachery. You disgrace yourself and your reign by keeping her."

Aemond stood, his tall frame towering over his mother. "My reign, Mother. Not yours. And I will decide what brings disgrace and what does not-Jacaera is mine, and I will not set her aside."

Alicent's shoulders sagged slightly, the fight seeming to drain out of her. "You are blind, Aemond. Blind to the destruction this will bring."

Aemond turned away, dismissing her concerns with a wave of his hand. "I am not blind, Mother. I see clearly. And what I see is Jacaera by my side."

Alicent's heart ached with a mother's anguish, knowing her words had fallen on deaf ears. She turned and left the chambers, the sound of the door closing echoing the finality of their argument.

Aemond strode down the dimly lit corridors of the Red Keep towards the tower where Jacaera and their children lived.

His anticipation of seeing his beloved and their children was already spreading through his body, his eagerness to see them saw him taking the steps two at a time.

He passed the guards lined up again the walls of the corridor, bowing their heads respectfully as he passed by.

The guards standing outside the doors quickly moved aside, as he approached.

As soon as the doors opened and he entered the room, he was greeted with a loud chorus of "Daddy!"

Rhaegar and Aerys, his two-year-old sons, reached out for him with bright, eager eyes. Aemond's stern demeanour softened, a genuine smile spreading across his face as he lifted both of his sons into his arms.

Both boys nuzzled into him, their small hands clutching at his tunic. The warmth of their affection filling him with a rare sense of peace.

He looked over at Jacaera, who was sitting on one of the sofas, gods how beautiful she was, wavy dark hair and amethyst eyes with a hand was pressed against her slightly rounded stomach, a sign of the new life growing within her.

For all the turmoil and disapproval from his mother and the court, here in this room, with Jacaera and their sons, he found a sanctuary, a place where he wasn’t bound by duty, a place where he wasn’t the King, a place where he was just Aemond.

Jacaera looked towards him and smiled, beckoning him over with a flick of her wrist.

Aemond crossed the room, settling beside Jacaera while still holding the boys. He placed a tender kiss on her forehead.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice softened by concern.

"Better now that you're here," Jacaera replied, a small smile playing on her lips.

Aemond smiled as he took a deep breath before speaking, his voice steady but carrying a hint of reluctance.

"I need to go to Harrenhal for a couple of days," he began, his voice steady. "I'll ensure there are sufficient guards here. If you desire to take the boys into the gardens, you may do so."

Jacaera's expression shifted slightly, concern flickering in her eyes. "Will you be safe?"

"I will," he assured her, squeezing her hand gently. "But there is something else I need to tell you. My mother has been pressuring me about having children with Floris."

Jacaera visibly tensed, her discomfort clear. She glanced at their sons, then back at Aemond. "Can we have one of the nannies take the boys to their bedroom to play with their toys?"

Aemond nodded, calling for a nanny to escort Rhaegar and Aerys out. Once the boys were gone, Jacaera turned to Aemond, her eyes filling with unshed tears.

"I do not wish to hear about your wife. I don’t want to think of you laying with her."

Aemond’s heart clenched at the pain in her voice. He reached out, pulling her into his arms. "Jacaera, please," he murmured, his voice filled with regret. "You know where my heart truly lies."

She looked up at him, tears spilling down her cheeks. "It doesn’t make it any easier, Aemond. Knowing you have to be with her, even if you don't want to. It hurts."

Aemond held her tightly, stroking her hair. "I hate it too. But you are the one I love, the one I want to be with. This is not easy for me either."

Jacaera buried her face in his chest, her body trembling with silent sobs. "I just want you here with me and the boys. I want us to be a proper family."

Aemond kissed the top of her head, wishing he could give her that simple, peaceful life. "I promise, I will always come back to you, and I promise that it won’t be for much longer, I have a plan-"

Floris stood silently on the balcony overlooking the gardens, her heart heavy with bitterness. Below, Jacaera played with Rhaegar and Aerys, their laughter and playful voices drifting up to where she stood.

The sight of her husband’s bastard children with Jacaera only served to inflame her jealousy. Aemond was her husband, yet he showed no interest in her, he would only speak to her when necessary and on the rare occasion when he did bed her, he wouldn’t grant her any lingering kisses or soft touches he would simply unlace his breeches, take her from behind and leave as soon as he spilled his seed.

One night she dared to follow him to the sprawling tower where he kept Jacaera and his bastard sons, and she watched through a crack in the door as he bid goodnight to his silver haired sons and then took Jacaera to bed.

She watched aghast as he sunk to his knees and worshipped Jacaera, his head between her legs as he devoured her, his lips pressing kisses to every inch of her skin, his hands caressing her, and finally his cock sheathed deep inside her.

The sway of his long silver hair and the taut of his muscles as he fucked his strong bastard mistress, his unrestrained moans and loud grunts of pleasure as he took her in a multitude of positions, the way his eye rolled back into his head as he spilled his seed inside her.

Never had she seen her husband in such a manner, and it made her all the more envious of that dark haired bastard, the whore thief who had stolen her husband-

Suddenly her reverie was interrupted by the sound of a cane tapping against the stone floor. Larys Strong approached, his presence as unsettling as ever.

He inclined his head slightly in greeting. "My Queen," he said, his tone smooth. "I bring news. The King has departed for Harrenhal on the back of Vhagar. He will return in a few days."

At the mention of Harrenhal, Floris’s curiosity was piqued. "Harrenhal?" she repeated, her voice tinged with suspicion. "Isn’t that where Alys Rivers resides?"

Larys' eyes gleamed with a hint of amusement. "Harrenhal is now indeed ruled by a woman. Aemond gifted it to her in gratitude for her-services."

Floris’s stomach churned. "And Aemond’s relationship with Alys?" she asked, dreading the answer.

Larys shrugged, a mocking smile playing on his lips. "Merely rumours, Your Grace. But there is said to be a silver-haired child running around the halls of Harrenhal."

Floris' heart sank further, despair settling in her chest. Larys, ever the observer, added with a touch of sarcasm, "The King does seem to have particular tastes when it comes to women."

Floris looked away, her mind reeling. Her husband’s heart and loyalty seemed scattered, entangled with other women, other children. She felt trapped in a marriage that was little more than a political arrangement, her desires and needs cast aside.

Watching Jacaera and her sons below, she couldn’t help but envy the love and attention they received from Aemond, a love she feared she would never know.

Larys leaned closer to Floris, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You should not hold it against the King. Some men are weak to the wiles of women. My brother Harwin suffered a similar affliction when he became involved with Rhaenyra. It seems Jacaera has inherited her mother's ability to seduce men she shouldn't."

Floris' gaze remained fixed on Jacaera and the boys as they played in the garden below. Larys' words wrapped around her like a serpent's coil, feeding her resentment. "It is an insult for the King to sire children upon the undeserving," he continued, his tone methodical and cold. "To see him fawn over his bastard mistress while you, his rightful wife, are neglected."

Floris's hands clenched into fists, her knuckles white with tension. "It would be easier if they weren't around," she murmured, almost to herself. "If Jacaera and her sons were gone, maybe Aemond would come to act as a husband should, and we could, in time, be happy."

Larys' smile was slow and calculating. "If that is truly your wish, Your Grace, then it shall be done."

Floris's heart pounded, a mix of fear and hope flooding her veins. She turned to look at Larys, a question in her eyes, but he simply nodded and hobbled away, the sound of his cane echoing through the air,

Aemond arrived at Harrenhal astride Vhagar, the colossal dragon's landing shaking the ground with tremendous force. Dust and debris swirled in the air as Vhagar's mighty wings beat one last time before folding. Aemond unhooked his riding chains and descended down the rope ladder with practiced ease.

A guard approached and bowed deeply. "Your Grace," he said respectfully. "How may I serve you?"

"I'm here to see the Lady Alys," Aemond replied curtly.

The guard nodded, understanding the gravity of the king's presence, and escorted him through the winding halls of Harrenhal to Alys’ covenstead.

The room was dimly lit, filled with shelves of jars containing unknown and mysterious ingredients. The air was thick with the scent of herbs and smoke.

Alys was sitting cross-legged before the fireplace, her eyes reflecting the dancing flames. She looked up as Aemond entered, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "I knew you would come," she said, her voice soft and eerie. "I saw it in the flames."

Aemond stepped closer, his expression serious. "I need more of the potion you gave me."

Alys rose gracefully and retrieved an ornate glass bottle from a high shelf, its contents shimmering in the firelight. She handed it to him, her eyes never leaving his. "Like I said—I knew you would come."

“Hmmm”

As Aemond took the bottle, Alys' tone shifted, her gaze piercing. "Is your Storm Queen aware of what you are doing?" she asked pointedly.

Aemond's jaw tightened slightly. "Floris is aware of my involvement with Jacaera. I've never hidden it from her."

Alys shook her head slowly, a wry smile playing on her lips as she motioned towards the bottle in his hand—the potion much stronger than moontea that would temporarily render Floris unable to bear children. "That's not what I'm referring to," she said softly. "Does it truly turn your stomach to lay with your lady wife and have your seed take root?"

Aemond hesitated, his gaze flickering. "She is not the woman I wish for-nor one I desire" he admitted finally, his voice low.

Alys leaned forward, her expression intense. "There are ways to rid yourself of her without degrading yourself in such a manner," she murmured, her voice laced with suggestion. "Your uncle was no stranger to the need to rid himself of his bronze bitch-perhaps his method could be of use to you”.

“As much as I have no love for my wife-I will not stand above her with a rock in hand-her inability to provide me with children will serve as reason enough to annul our marriage-leaving me free to wed Jacaera, as I should have done in the first place” said Aemond as he pocketed the bottle, his gaze lingering on Alys as she moved back to the fireplace.

She began muttering nonsensically, her hands weaving through the flames.

"What do you see?" Aemond asked, a mix of curiosity and impatience in his voice.

Alys's eyes flickered with an otherworldly light. "An opportunity to rid yourself of the undesired Queen will soon present itself," she said cryptically. "The firefly will do its work."

Aemond frowned, trying to decipher her words. "The firefly?" he repeated.

Alys nodded, her gaze distant and mystical. "Yes, the firefly. It will lead you to what you desire. But beware of those who walk in the shadows of truth and lies-false tongues and spilled blood- the sound of wood against the stone-"

Suddenly their discussion was interrupted by the creak of the door opening. A silver-haired child, small and curious, toddled in, calling out for his "mummy."

Alys' smile was warm and loving as she picked up the child, her green eyes glinting with maternal affection. The boy's gaze turned to Aemond, his innocence a stark contrast to the weight of the world around them.

Aemond greeted the boy kindly. "Aeron, I have something for you-for your recent name day" he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small wooden carving of a dragon.

Aeron's eyes lit up with delight as he took the gift, thanking Aemond with a shy smile before toddling out of the room again.

Alys watched her son leave with a fond smile before turning back to Aemond. "That was kind of you," she remarked softly.

Aemond's expression softened. "Whilst he is blood of the dragon, unfortunately it's the closest he will ever come to having a dragon of his own."

Alys nodded thoughtfully, her mind drifting to deeper thoughts. "Imagine the calamity the would ensue if the King were to grant a dragonseed a dragon's egg," she pondered aloud.

Aemond's brow furrowed slightly. "There are enough rumours about the boy as it is," he replied evenly. "There doesn't need to be any more."

Alys laughed lightly, the sound echoing softly in the room. "Ahh the absurdity of such rumours," she said with a shake of her head. "That you, are Aeron's sire-imagine if the people of the realm knew the truth-that my son belongs to Daemon.”

Aemond nodded thoughtfully at Alys' words. "The people of the realm like to make up stories," he murmured, almost to himself. "They tell each other these tales over and over until they forget that it's a lie."

Alys nodded knowingly, her expression grave. "Indeed, there are many lies in the game of thrones," she replied. "Be careful to what you pay attention, Your Grace."

Aemond absorbed her cautionary words, understanding the depth of her advice. Before he could respond, Alys continued with a sense of finality, "It's time for you to return to the Red Keep. The firefly has sown the seeds of discord, and you should return to see them bare fruit, but beware of the wood on stone-"

He offered Alys a nod of gratitude for the potion she had provided, a silent acknowledgment of their shared understanding.

As he turned to leave, his mind already drifting to the political machinations awaiting him in King's Landing, he didn't catch Alys' last quiet musing.

"You won't be needing it," she whispered, her voice lost to the crackle of the fire and the echoes of power that reverberated within the ancient walls of Harrenhal.

Aemond flew back to King's Landing atop Vhagar, the massive dragon's wings slicing through the sky with force. The journey was swift, driven by Aemond's urgency to return to Jacaera and his sons.

Upon landing, he dismounted Vhagar and made his way through the castle, his Kings guard following quietly behind him. He ascended the steps of the tower that led to Jacaera's chambers, noticing the unusual silence that enveloped the corridors. There were no guards on duty, an anomaly that sent a chill down his spine.

As he approached the door to Jacaera's room, he saw it was ajar. His instincts sharpened, and he unsheathed his sword, pushing the door open with caution. "Jacaera-Issa jorrāelagon?" he called out, his voice echoing in the unsettling quiet. "Rhaegar? Aerys? Byka zaldrīzoti " (My love, little dragons).

There was no answer, only a heavy, oppressive silence. He stepped into the room, his eye scanning the scene before him. Chaos reigned—chairs were overturned, glass lay shattered across the floor, and various belongings were strewn about.

But it was the sight of blood, dark and staining the floor, spilling in every direction, that froze Aemond in place.

"NO-" he cried out in horror, his heart breaking as he took in the carnage.

His Kings guard spread out, searching the room with grim efficiency, but there were no signs of Jacaera or the boys. The blood trail suggested a violent struggle, and Aemond's mind raced with the possibilities of what could have happened.

"Your Grace" one of the guards said, his voice grave. "There's no sign of them here. We must search the entire keep."

Aemond nodded, his face a mask of fury and despair. "FIND THEM” he commanded. "Search every room, every corner. Do not rest until they are found."

The guards moved quickly, leaving Aemond alone in the ruined room. He stared at the blood on the floor, a sickening mix of rage and helplessness churning within him.

Then as his gaze fell upon a familiar object he fell to his knees. It was Rhaegar's favourite stuffed dragon, the soft fabric now sticky with blood.

The sight of it broke something inside him. He picked up the teddy, cradling it to his chest, and let out a heart-wrenching sob.

"Rhaegar-Aerys-Jacaera" he whispered, his voice cracking with despair. The room around him seemed to blur as tears filled his eye. He clutched the bloodstained teddy tighter, the reality of the situation crashing down on him like a tidal wave.

Memories of his sons' laughter, their small hands reaching out for him, and Jacaera's smile flooded his mind. The thought of them suffering, of them being taken from him, was unbearable. His sobs turned into a guttural cry of rage and grief, echoing through the ruined chamber.

If his beloved Jacaera and his sweet sons were dead, then he would rip the world apart. He envisioned himself taking to the sky on Vhagar, raining fire and destruction upon the realm, leaving nothing but ash in his wake. No one would be spared his fury-no one.

Aemond was still on his knees, cradling the bloodstained teddy, when he heard the distinctive sound shuffling. He turned sharply, his eye narrowing as he saw Larys Strong standing in the doorway.

"They are safe, my King," Larys said, his voice calm and assured.

Aemond's reaction was immediate. He surged to his feet and seized Larys by the robes, his face a mask of fury and desperation. "Where are they?" he demanded, his voice a dangerous growl.

Larys met his gaze steadily. "They are with your mother”

Without another word, Aemond released Larys and raced from the room, his heart pounding in his chest. He sprinted through the corridors, his mind solely focused on reaching his mother’s chambers. He all but crashed through the door, his eye wild with panic.

There, in the corner of the room, huddled together, were Jacaera, Rhaegar, and Aerys. The sight of them brought tears of relief to his eye. "Jacaera!" he cried, his voice breaking as he rushed across the room.

Jacaera looked up, her eyes filled with tears. "Aemond," she whispered.

He pulled her into his arms, holding her close and breathing in her familiar scent. The warmth of her body against his brought a sense of peace he hadn't felt since he discovered the bloodied room. He clung to her, his shoulders shaking with sobs.

After a few minutes, he pulled back slightly and placed his hands on her face, tilting her head to look at her. He noticed a cut on her cheek and that she looked a little dishevelled, but otherwise, she was unharmed. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

Jacaera nodded, her eyes searching his face. "I'm fine. The boys are fine too."

Aemond turned his gaze to Rhaegar and Aerys, who were clutching each other tightly. He knelt down and pulled them into his arms, holding them close. "Daddy's here," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "Daddy's here."

The boys clung to him, their small bodies trembling. Aemond closed his eye, the relief washing over him like a tidal wave. They were safe. His family was safe.

Jacaera placed a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up at her, his eye filled with gratitude and love. "Thank the gods," he murmured, standing and pulling her into another embrace. "I thought I'd lost you."

She held him tightly, her voice steady despite the ordeal. "We're here, Aemond. We're safe."

Aemond nodded, his resolve strengthening. Whoever had orchestrated this would pay. But for now, all that mattered was that his family was safe in his arms.

His mother watched silently as she watched her son openly weep for Jacaera and their children, she had never seen this side of Aemond before and it stirred a number of unfamiliar feelings in her chest.

Aemond never displayed this kind of vulnerability to anyone, and it was a harsh reminder of his obvious feelings and closeness to Jacaera, and for the briefest of moments Alicent realised that pushing Aemond to marry Floris had been a mistake, that she should have been a mother first and supported her last surviving child in securing his heart’s desire, but instead she had allowed herself to be swayed by the whims of the council and now Aemond was trapped in a marriage he did not truly wish for just as she had been and her heart broke.

That night, Aemond did not sleep a wink. He brought Jacaera and the boys back to his personal chambers, ensuring they were safe and secure.

As they slept in his bed, Aemond sat beside them, watching over them with a vigilant gaze. The events of the day replayed in his mind, fuelling a mixture of relief and simmering rage.

A soft knock at the door had him instantly on alert. Rising to his feet, his hand curled around the hilt of his dagger, he moved quietly to the door. Opening it a crack, he saw Larys Strong standing there, his expression serious.

Casting a final look at the sleeping Jacaera and his sons, Aemond stepped into the hallway, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. "Well?" he asked, his voice low and intense.

Larys met his gaze steadily. "Your Grace, it would seem that Jacaera is no weakling woman. She defended her children with a mother's fury-”

In that moment Aemond thanked the gods that the time he had spent secretly training Jacaera with the sword had paid off, granted she wasn’t as proficient as he was but clearly it had been enough to save herself and their sons.

“-She managed to inflict grievous injuries on two of the intruders before they inevitably succumbed to the stranger in the secret passageways, and she managed to injure the third. The Kings guard have searched the streets of King's Landing and found the intruder. He's in the black cells, awaiting your judgement."

Aemond's eye narrowed, his grip tightening on the dagger. The thought of Jacaera and his sons in danger ignited a burning anger within him. He nodded; his jaw set with determination. "Thank you-" he said, his voice cold. "I will personally deal with the man who tried to take my love from me.”

Larys inclined his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. "As you wish, Your Grace."

Aemond turned back to his chambers, his resolve firm. He would ensure that those who threatened his family would face the full force of his wrath.

Tonight, as his beloved Jacaera and their sons slept peacefully, he would make sure their safety was secured. And come morning, justice would be served.

Returning to his post by the bed, Aemond watched over his family with renewed determination. The night was long, but he remained vigilant, his mind focused on the punishment he would mete out to those who dared to harm what was his.

As the first light of dawn began to filter through the windows, Aemond's resolve only grew stronger. He would protect his family at any cost, and woe to those who stood in his way.

Aemond left Jacaera and the boys under heavy guard in his chambers, ensuring their safety before making his way down to the black cells. The air grew colder and damper as he descended, the stone walls closing in around him. Torches flickered, casting ominous shadows as he walked, his footsteps echoing through the narrow passageways.

He reached the cell where the man was held and pushed open the heavy iron door. Inside, a man was bound in chains, kneeling on the cold floor. The moment he saw Aemond, the man began to shake and beg for mercy.

"Please, Your Grace," the man whimpered, tears streaming down his face. "I have a family."

Aemond stepped closer, his eyes blazing with fury. He leaned down, getting in the man's face. "Yet you almost took mine from me," he hissed, his voice dangerously low.

The man continued to beg, his pleas growing more desperate. Aemond's patience wore thin, and he grabbed the man's collar, lifting him slightly off the ground. "Mercy will only be granted if you reveal who was behind the assassination attempt," Aemond demanded, his grip tightening.

The man gasped for air, his eyes wide with terror. "I never saw their face," he choked out. "They gave me a pouch of coins and told me how to enter the Red Keep, where to find the King's mistress and bastard children."

Aemond's rage intensified. He wrapped his hands around the man's throat, squeezing tightly. "Tell me" he growled, his voice a dangerous whisper.

The man struggled, his face turning red as he fought to breathe. With his last ounce of strength, he managed to mutter, "Ours is the Fury."

Aemond's eye widened with recognition. He released his grip, and the man slumped to the ground, unconscious. Aemond's mind raced, the words echoing in his head.

He knew that motto well.

Aemond barged into Floris' chambers, his fury barely contained. The maids, startled by his sudden entrance, were rudely dismissed with a sharp wave of his hand. He slammed the door shut behind him, the sound echoing through the room.

Floris stood, her eyes wide with surprise and fear. Before she could speak, Aemond advanced on her, his expression dark with anger. "I know it was you," he spat, his voice trembling with rage. "You arranged the assassination attempt on Jacaera and my sons."

Floris' eyes widened further, and she shook her head, her voice trembling. "I-I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't fucking lie to me!" Aemond roared, his voice echoing off the walls."

Floris' facade crumbled, and she took a step back, her hands trembling. "I may have... expressed a desire to get rid of Jacaera and the boys," she admitted, tears welling in her eyes. "But I never intended for it to be acted upon. It was Larys Strong. He's the one who took it upon himself-"

Aemond scoffed, his eyes narrowing. "The men spoke your family's motto. Why would Larys arrange for the murder of Jacaera and my sons, only to implicate you? It makes no sense."

Floris began to cry, the tears streaming down her face. "I don't know, Aemond, I swear. I never wanted this. I just-I wanted you to love me, to be a proper husband."

Aemond was unmoved by her tears, his face a mask of cold fury. "You could have cost me everything," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Jacaera, my sons, my future. How dare you?"

Floris sobbed, her shoulders shaking, but Aemond's rage did not abate.

Aemond’s face was a mask of cold resolve as he looked at Floris. “Our marriage is over, I'm done with this farce-” he declared, his voice cutting through the tension in the room. “I will petition the High Septon for an annulment based on your failure to produce an heir. You are to return to Storm’s End immediately. I never want to see or hear from you again.”

Floris’ tears dried up in an instant, replaced by a fury that matched Aemond’s own. “YOU DARE?” she raged, her voice trembling with indignation. “-You continuously brought shame and embarrassment upon me by flaunting your mistress and her bastards! I grew desperate and heartbroken-even when we did lay together no child ever came, I saw the way the men on the council would look at me, like it was my fault my womb remained empty, whilst their precious King was readily siring his bastards upon his whore”.

Aemond’s eye narrowed, his expression turning even colder. “There was never going to be a child. When we did lay together-I made sure you drank a potion to ensure my seed would never take root,” he revealed, his tone merciless. “I never wanted to have children with you. It’s Jacaera, it always has been, and it always will be”.

Floris’ eyes widened with shock and hurt. “You-you’ve been poisoning me?” she stammered, the realization hitting her like a physical blow.

Aemond didn’t flinch. “I took precautions. There is no room in my life for children I do not want, and I certainly did not want them with you.”

Floris’ rage bubbled over, and she challenged him, her voice rising. “What about Alys and the silver-haired boy at Harrenhal?”

Aemond sneered. “If you truly believe such baseless rumours, then you’re stupider than you look. The boy was sired by my uncle Daemon, not me.”

Floris tried to reason with him, her voice softer now, almost pleading. “Aemond, please. Try to understand how I’ve felt, I am your wife, yet you continue to wrong me-”

“You? It’s all about you, isn’t it? what about Jacaera? She was my woman long before you and I exchanged vows-”

 “Please husband-We can find a way to make this work. You can keep seeing Jacaera, all I ask for in return is that you grant me one child-”

“Have you got cloth ears? I said I don’t want any children with you” snarled Aemond.

“Y-Your Grace-please”

“No,” Aemond cut her off, his tone final. “You are to leave the Red Keep immediately, or I will have you executed. Your presence here is no longer tolerated.”

Floris’ face twisted with a mix of despair and fury. “You will regret this, Aemond Targaryen,” she spat, her voice filled with venom.

Aemond’s expression remained unchanged, his resolve unshaken. “I doubt that very much. Guards!” he called, his voice echoing through the halls. The door opened, and two guards entered, their expressions stoic.

“Ensure that the lady gathers her things and is ready to leave for Storm’s End within the hour. If she resists, use force.” ordered Aemond, his voice icy.

The guards nodded, moving to flank Floris. She cast one last, venomous glance at Aemond before allowing herself to be led away.

Aemond descended once more into the black cells, his mind a storm of emotions. He found Larys Strong standing beside the still-unconscious intruder, observing him with an air of detached curiosity.

"Lord Strong," Aemond called, his voice echoing through the cold stone chamber.

Larys turned, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in Aemond's demeanour. "Your Grace," he greeted with a slight bow. "I trust you have news?"

Aemond nodded curtly. "Floris admitted her guilt. She has been banished from the Red Keep and is to return to Storm's End. Our marriage will be annulled."

Larys raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "I must say, I am shocked that Lady Floris was capable of such a thing. To arrange for babes to be murdered in their beds is a terrible act, indeed. No doubt the actions of a woman who had grown desperate”.

Aemond’s expression hardened. "Mayhaps, but it was unforgivable nonetheless."

“Did the Lady happen to mention how she came into contact with the men she hired?” asked Larys, his voice soft and low.

Before he could respond Aemond’s attention was drawn to the sound of Larys tapping his cane against the floor and suddenly Alys’ words echoed around his mind ‘beware of those who walk in the shadows of truth and lies-false tongues and spilled blood- the sound of wood against the stone’

Aemond then noticed the pin on Larys’ robes, hidden slightly in the folds of fabric, the slight gold hue glinting in the torchlight.

A firefly-Aemond remembered that Helaena once had a number of them as part of her bug collection.

He remembered how their mother had reacted when Helaena had declared that the fireflies were bored of their captivity and had promptly released them in the Red Keep.

The sound of his sweet sisters laughter as they flew free around the room, and their mother’s shrieking when she found one in her hair.

Firefly, Firefly, Firefly. The word kept playing on his mind.

Floris had named Larys as her co-conspirator, and whilst he had initially dismissed the notion as ridiculous, he couldn’t shake the feeling on uncertainty that was now swirling within him.

Alys had never steered him wrong before with any of her warnings and he had learned very quickly during the war to never ignore what she told him, even if it seemed like nonsensical ramblings.

“Interesting pin-” muttered Aemond, his hand curling around the pommel of his sword.

“A firefly-” said Larys firmly.

“I know-”

Without warning, Aemond unsheathed his sword in a swift, fluid motion. Larys had only a moment to register what was happening before the blade struck.

Aemond’s sword cut cleanly through Larys' neck, and his head fell to the ground with a dull thud, eyes still wide with shock.

Aemond stood over the beheaded corpse, his chest heaving with exertion and emotion. He felt a grim satisfaction in exacting his vengeance. Larys had played a dangerous game, manipulating events and people for his own ends. Now, he had paid the ultimate price.

Aemond wiped his sword clean on Larys' robes and sheathed it. He looked at the unconscious intruder, his lip curling in disdain. He would deal with him later. For now, he had more pressing matters to attend to.

Aemond stood before his council, his eyes scanning the room with a steely determination. The members of his Small Council sat around the table, their expressions a mix of apprehension and curiosity.

Alicent sat near the head of the table, her gaze fixed on her son with a mix of disbelief and concern.

"I have gathered you all here today to make an important announcement," Aemond began, his voice steady and commanding. "My marriage to Floris Baratheon will be annulled due to her inability to provide me with an heir and for her involvement in the assassination attempt on Jacaera and my sons, she has been banished back to Storm's End-and before anyone dares to mention it, I give no shit for Borros Baratheon, and if he wishes to express his disdain then he will do so before Vhagar-"

A ripple of shock ran through the council members, but no one dared to speak. Aemond continued, his tone growing colder. "Larys Strong, who was also involved, has been executed for his treachery."

Alicent’s eyes widened, and she shook her head slightly, but she remained silent, her face a mask of conflicting emotions.

Aemond took a deep breath, his resolve unwavering. "As soon as the High Septon grants the annulment, I will wed Jacaera. Our children will be legitimized as Targaryen’s, and my oldest son, Rhaegar, will be named heir to the Iron Throne".

The council members lowered their gazes, clearly uncomfortable but unwilling to challenge their clearly angry yet determined King. The weight of Aemond's decisions hung heavily in the room, an unspoken tension settling over the assembly.

Aemond looked at each of them in turn, his gaze unyielding. "My decision is not up for debate, I let you fools force me into a marriage with Floris and it was a mistake from the very beginning. Jacaera and our sons are my family, and I will protect them at all costs. Anyone who dares to threaten them will face the same fate as Larys Strong."

Alicent finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "Aemond-are you certain this is the right path?"

Aemond met his mother's gaze, his expression softening slightly. "Mother, I understand your concerns, but my mind is made up. Jacaera and our children are my future."

Alicent sighed, her shoulders sagging in resignation. "Very well. I will not stand against you."

Aemond nodded, grateful for her reluctant support. He turned back to the council. "Prepare the necessary documents for the annulment and send word to the High Septon. This matter must be resolved swiftly-I do not wish to be married to that Baratheon bitch for any longer than what is necessary”.

The council members murmured their assent, hastily making notes and exchanging wary glances. Aemond knew that his decisions would be met with resistance, but he was prepared to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

His love for Jacaera and his commitment to their children gave him the strength to defy tradition and forge his own path as King.

As the council meeting adjourned, Aemond took a moment to approach his mother. "Thank you for not opposing me," he said quietly.

Alicent looked at him with a mixture of sadness and pride. "I express my regret in not advocating for you to wed Jacaera in the first place-mayhaps all this could have been avoided and you would have been glad for it-now my only hope that you find the happiness you seek, my son."

Aemond nodded, a rare smile touching his lips. "I will, Mother. I promise."

Jacaera sat gracefully by Aemond's side during the celebratory feast, her eyes sparkling with contentment. The grandeur of the Red Keep's throne room was a far cry from the gloom that had been present as she was first brought here as a captive.

Initially she had been defiant and intent on fighting against her captors at every given opportunity, but then she saw how Aemond had looked at her and how fierce he had been when he demanded that she be given to him.

Soon after an idea began to form in her mind, to make Aemond fall in love with her, initially she did think it would be quite difficult given his previous stance on duty and his loyalty to his family but his obsession with her proved to be his undoing.

The man was so completely starved of affection that all Jacaera had to do was love him, care for him and give herself to him in every way possible.

Aemond was as eager as a neglected puppy and the more she gave, he was only to happy to take.

In truth there were times where she felt sorry for him, deep down it wasn’t really his fault, he had obviously never received the love and nurture of a good mother and that neglect had caused him issues, it didn’t totally absolve him of his sins but it allowed for an understanding of why he was the way he was.

Sure, there were times when they argued, but eventually they would make up and Aemond would spend as much time as he could between her thighs. Despite his initial shyness, his appetite for sex was ravenous, and Jacaera was more than happy to indulge him.

The continuous loss of her family had been a deep wound, yet it also steeled her resolve to ensure her mother's legacy endured. As the greens self-destructed in their political machinations, Jacaera skilfully positioned herself at Aemond's side.

When he returned victorious from the battle above the gods eye and was crowned King, his council were quick to try and influence him and his reign. Pressing him to follow through on his promise to marry Floris Baratheon.

The night before his wedding, Aemond spent hours fucking her, he was like a man possessed, the way he devoured her cunt, making her peak on his tongue then sheathing his cock inside her and making her scream his name.

She knew he loved to hear her, that what he was doing to her felt good. He liked to hear his name upon her lips, hear her praise him and beg him for more.

She did think that it wouldn’t bother her if he laid with Floris, that she didn’t care about him in that way but knowing that he had consummated the marriage had hurt in a way that she didn’t expect.

He came to her after he’d been with Floris and the look of hurt that flashed across his face when he reached out for her, but she slapped his hands way was something she would always remember.

In truth it was the first time she realised that withholding what he wanted would also grant her things that she wanted, he was so addicted to what she did for him that he would do anything to please her.

But it also served to make her aware that despite trying to avoid it, she had developed feelings for him, she had grown to care for his well being and she found herself descending into epic fits of rage when learning he had been with Floris, granted it was rare, barely once in as many moons but it still happened, and she hated it.

If she belonged to him, then he belonged to her.

Aemond would watch as she threw things around her chambers, it was almost as if he enjoyed her jealousy, her anger raising to momentous proportions as she let him fuck her hard against the wall, the rough stones digging into her back as he thrust into her, sometimes she would bite him until he bled, the first time had been an accident but there were times where he demanded that she do it, and she was more than happy to oblige, to inflict pain where she could.

One day she expressed her desire to be a mother, and to her surprise Aemond stopped requesting moontea after their couplings and soon she bore him two sons who quickly became the centre of his world.

As time progressed Floris was nothing more than a thorn in her side, but Jacaera moved subtly, knowing of Aemond's distaste for the marriage he had been forced into.

Obviously, Alys and her expertise came in handy as Jacaera couldn’t have Floris birthing any of Aemond’s children, granted she didn’t know Alys personally, but Aemond would often talk about his time at Harrenhal and the witch who helped him, so Jacaera had subtly suggested asking for her help.

Alys was more than happy to help in exchange for the right to call Harrenhal her own, why anyone would want to live in that ruined husk of a castle Jacaera would never know but Alys was content with what she had been given and provided her expertise.

The assassination attempt had been drastic, but effective, the intruders were lumbering fools who drank more than they trained and two of them were easily dealt with, the training sessions she endured coming in handy, and the third ended up getting captured.

Larys Strong's involvement had been pivotal, for all he was clever, he was also a greedy man and all it took was the promise of convincing Aemond to give him a seat on the council, though he had to be dealt with once his usefulness ended, but given Aemonds fury over what had happened and Floris naming him, it was all but inevitable that Larys would find himself a head shorter.

Floris had been banished from Kings Landing and her marriage to Aemond had been annulled.

Now Jacaera was married, and she was the Queen, she had briefly entertained the idea of getting rid of Aemond as well, but she dismissed the idea as quickly as it came.

Despite what he had done, he did have some redeeming qualities about him. But more importantly, she had come to accept that she did love him.

As she gazed at Aemond and their sons, Jacaera's heart swelled with a mix of satisfaction and ambition. She leaned over and kissed Aemond's scarred cheek, she then took his hand and placed it on the huge swell of her stomach, any day now they would be blessed with their next child, and she hoped that it would be a girl, perhaps she could even convince Aemond to let her name the babe Rhaenyra.

Her thoughts drifting to her mother, she hoped that she would be proud of all that she had endured in order too see that her mother’s blood would continue on the Iron Throne.

Hidden and patient, she would remain, to see the true line of succession resorted at least in some form the day that Rhaegar would be crowned King.

The End.