#I HAVE to furiously push aside everything but what I want and let it fall

[starlooove]

When ppl talk about customer service workers being dehumanized it’s not even the insane freakouts it’s the lack of personal space that pisses me off

[glossykissies]

a continuation of this post, scott in the babygirl!universe…

out of the blue, scott just stopped showing up to your work building.

the first few days, it was fine. you were busy, preoccupied— and sometimes your schedules just didn’t align. but then a week passed, and then another — and you were starting to think scott wasn’t coming back.

you hadn’t been able to concentrate. where was he? had he lost his job? did he quit or relocate after wrapping you up into this sick submission? you hadn’t realised at the time, but being told what to do all the time, indulging in your need to please someone had taken all the stress away, added pockets into your day where you momentarily would forget everything and melt into this hazy mindset — and now without it, you were facing the withdrawals.

the stress was getting on top of you, with no short spurts of release and no guiding hand you felt lost. one thursday afternoon, after being berated by your boss, only sending you into a spiral of confusion, you couldn’t take it anymore. you excused yourself from the office and pushed the door open to the kitchen, noting that it was empty before bursting into tears. you stand facing away from the door, incase someone were to enter as you sob into your hands. why couldn’t you just function properly like other girls your age? your first big girl job, and you couldn’t handle it without someone prodding at you, guiding you, taking your mind off things. you were… ashamed.

you hear the door open behind you, but daren’t look — trying to furiously wipe the tears that fall, only to be replaced by another fresh wave. you were expecting to hear the footsteps travel to the counter top, or the refrigerator— making themselves a snack, or a coffee, but after a moment you realise they were just stood there.

slowly, you turn — only to be face to face with scott. a gasp falls out of you, and you take a couple of steps towards him before stopping yourself — just stood there, clenching and unclenching your fists.

“where have you been?” you accuse, mouth down turned and devastated. he’d just arrived, and you knew because he was still wearing his sunglasses.

“you’re crying.” he states obviously.

“where were you?” you repeat, a little quieter this time and he takes the moment to take off his sunglasses, folding them to fit in the pocket on the breast of his white company shirt.

“field research. i was out in the country.” he explains calmly as you suck in jagged breaths. you’re not quite sure where to go from here, you’d made an idiot of yourself and panicked over nothing.

“wh—” you pause, wiping your eyes. “you didn’t tell me.”

“i didn’t know i had to. why are you crying?” scott folds his arms, and even his presence looming above you makes you melt a little, that warm feeling threatening to take you once more for the first time in weeks.

“i…doesn’t matter.” you’re meek, looking at your shoes now bashfully, but he steps closer to you.

“tell me. i just asked you a question.”

“i’m stressed. my boss yelled at me. work has been difficult.” it’s just above a whisper, but scott hears perfectly fine. when you brave glancing up at him, he’s staring at you thoughtfully, before finally —

“okay.”

you think that’s it, and you go on with your day — only to find a note on your desk later on. his address, and a time, and the word saturday. it didn’t need a name attached — it was the paper from his notepad, you knew it was him, and he knew you knew that.

7pm saturday — and you’re early. two minutes early precisely.

you think of waiting until those two minutes are up, not wanting to seem too eager. you’d faced enough embarrassment this week, you didn’t feel like proving once more how uncool you were. however, before you get the chance to knock — scott swings the door open, catching you just stood there.

you stare up at him like a deer in headlights and he stares back.

“didn’t wanna knock?” he asks and you clear your throat, not having an answer. he steps aside, letting you inside.

for once, he isn’t wearing the company shirt — instead a plain white tshirt and black sweatpants, unsurprisingly that cap still on his head. his apartment is nice, enough to tell you that he gets paid well, better than you anyway.

“was there something you wanted to talk about? were those presentation notes drafts okay?” you clutch your bag, slowly following him through his place as he leads you to the main sitting area.

“uh, no. those were fine.” he brushes it off, sitting on his couch. you stand for a moment, and he pats the seat beside him, gesturing for you to sit. you do so, without questions of course — and he takes a moment to watch you. he was always doing that… just… observing.

“so—” you start, but scott cuts you off.

“you like being told what to do.” he states, and everything falls silent. you swear, even the clock on the wall stops ticking.

“sorry?” you squeak after a beat and he licks his lips with a frown like he’s thinking of a simpler way to word it.

“you… like being controlled. it takes your stress away. that’s why you like me, am i right?” there isn’t an ounce of shyness in his tone, body fully facing you as he questions you. inwardly cursing at how obvious you must have been, preparing to be scolded for being inappropriate, and told you’d been reading this whole thing wrong — your face heats up, and you say nothing. “you can answer. you’re not in trouble.”

“yes, y—i suppose so.” you shrug in a whisper, eyes falling to your hands in your lap.

“look at me.” he’s quick, and your eyes snap up, not daring to stray from his. “hm.”

he’s back to watching, so you watch him back — relishing in just being close to him. what the hell did he want from you?

“would you like something to drink?” his deep voice rumbles and you furrow your eyebrows, so many questions left unanswered.

“uh, no thank you.”

scott stands anyway, walking over to the kitchen and rustling about. you sit very still, eyes glancing around making mental note of the way he kept his place. it was very tidy, pretty simple, nothing fancy and not many embellishments. he did however, have a lot of books and a few plants.

when scott returns, he’s carrying a small dish. he stands before you for a moment, before he speaks once more.

“get up.”

you do, and he sits where you sat, relaxing into the couch, placing the dish next to him. you don’t even look at it, eyes on him. “kneel on the ground, please.” he hums. your body gets hot, and for some reason — tears are already dampening your eyes.

“why?”

“kneel and i’ll explain it to you.”

you can’t help it, your legs feel like they might give out anyway— so you lower yourself, until you’re sitting on your knees, resting your hands on your lap, waiting for your next instructions. scott waits until you’re situated before clearing his throat and shuffling to the edge of his seat, so you’re nearly between his legs. resting his elbows on his knees, he speaks quietly, directly to you.

“you don’t wanna feel in control anymore, it stresses you out. i think you want me to take that away, don’t you? i think the thought of that turns you on. that would make you feel good. make you…” he lifts a finger and taps his temple. “go somewhere else.”

your doe eyes stay wide, examining his face as he speaks, listening intently. you already feel yourself slipping, that space that made you feel all soft and pliant. it was vulnerable, and you honestly didn’t think anyone else would ever see it — but now you wanted to show him.

“yeah.” you whisper with a nod, and he mirrors it, pausing.

“mm, yeah. well…” he reaches back and picks up the dish, placing it carefully between where his feet rest. the dish is filled with milk, and your body heats even more at the memory from the bar, the brief praise he offered you that haunted you for days. “you’re gonna drink this up for me.”

your breath catches in your throat, fighting your urges as you shake your head. “n—no—”

“no?”

“it’s— i feel—”

“embarrassed?” he cuts you off, tilting his head a little. “that’s the point. give in. drink for me.”

your breathing is all jagged as you stare at him, debating it. what if he was just messing with you? what if you did it, and then he told everyone, publicly humiliating you for your disgusting sexual urges?

your track of thoughts are broken when he cups your jaw, the most intimately he’s ever touched you. he strokes your cheek with his thumb and you nuzzle into his hand like a cat, eyes fluttering shut. “mhm. there you go.” he mutters, fingers wiggling round to scratch behind your ear. it feels so good that you start to relax, leaning on your hands and knees to get closer. “yeah see. s’just me.” he comforts quietly, breaking out of his blunt and emotionless ways to continue to pet you.

his large warm hands cups the back of your head and pushes lightly, lowering you. “yeah. there you go. drink it. go on.”

you lower the rest yourself, ass in the air as you try it out, dipping your tongue into the white liquid, the coolness of it soothing you. previously, you weren’t really a fan of milk — but now he was the one providing it for you, it was the best drink in the world, dipping your lips in and starting to slurp it up. you couldn’t get enough, lapping it up like an animal, swallowing and letting out little pleased groans and smacks as he strokes your back, watching in silence, occasionally throwing in a hum, or a “good.”

after a while, he shifts in his seat, throwing out another quiet command. “come up.”

you do so, instantly, milk dripping from your lips onto your chin and chest, staining your shirt — not that you cared. he leans forwards and wipes beneath your mouth with his thumb as you catch your breath, before stuffing his hand in his pocket and pulling out a cookie— the same he fed to that dog on the day you spoke to him for the first time.

he cups it in his palm, looking down at you. “eat the cookie.” you don’t hesitate this time, stuffing your face into his hand to chew the cookie, teeth grazing his skin. “good girl. good.” he coo’s quietly, which causes any sensibility to leave you instantly, succumbing to that submissive headspace. “spit. spit it out.” he orders, and you do so, before he discards it into the dish and places it aside.

“i’d like if you took your clothes off for me. can you do that?”

[aebi12]

"Resentment" - Chapter 30 [AemondxRhaena]

Summary

He is the cause of her sufferings. He took her dragon, her betrothed, and her father. Now, he will also take away her future by having to marry him.

With so much history and bad blood between Rhaena and Aemond, their forced union has everything to fail, except that the proximity will make them discover that perhaps they have more in common than it seems.

AU - the Greens win the war.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 19 - Chapter 20 - Chapter 21 - Chapter 22 - Chapter 23 - Chapter 24 - Chapter 25 - Chapter 26 - Chapter 27 - Chapter 28 - Chapter 29

Masterlist of my other works.

Read on AO3

Tags: enemies to lovers, slow burn, romance, angst, drama, smut, hurt/comfort

Please remember that english is not my first language, so I'm sorry for the mistakes...

Disclaimer: these are not my characters, they belong to George R.R. Martin, HBO, etc. Only the plot of this fanfiction belongs to me.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

The guard's words echo in her head as her mind refuses to process what her eyes show her, the maid's lifeless figure surrounded by a pool of blood.

“Stay back, princess.”

One of the guards pushes her aside at the precise moment that Morning launches another flare of fire towards the body.

“We must contain the creature,” she hears one of the guards say, before they look at each other with swords in hand, although clearly hesitant to advance towards the dragon.

Morning growls and throws fire again, spreading her wings and wanting to fly towards the dead maid, but the chain attached to one of her hind legs prevents her from doing so. The dragon roars, furious, and the new flare of dragon fire falls dangerously close to the curtains.

“She will end up burning the entire Tower if we do not capture her,” she hears the guards say.

As Rhaena watches them walk towards her dragon, armed, and clearly willing to subdue her by any means, she finally snaps out of her stupor and stands in front of them.

“I will calm her down,” she replies, trying to sound firm, though her voice wavers, “Stand back.”

“But, princess…”

“I said stand back.”

There are a few seconds of clear doubt on the guards’ faces, and Rhaena gets the impression that they won’t comply with her order, but they finally lower their swords and back away. Heart pounding, Rhaena faces Morning, who struggles against the heavy chain to get closer to the maid’s body.

To her prey, she thinks and swallows.

Rhaena takes a deep breath and takes a tentative step towards Morning, who watches her for a moment before continuing her efforts to break free.

 “Lykirī, Dohaeras, Morning”

The dragon looks back at her, but doesn’t slow down her attempts to be free, instead growling in her direction. Rhaena repeats the order again, and takes a few more steps towards the dragon, trying to hold the iron chain to draw Morning to her side. The creature responds by flying higher and away from Rhaena.

“Please, Morning, it’s me… just…”

The dragon lets out another burst of dragon fire and her hands begin to shake. Desperation begins to take hold of her as the minutes pass and her orders are empty words that have no effect.

Think. Think, Think, she orders herself, trying to contain the trembling of her hands and the tears that cloud her eyes.

Inspiration comes to Rhaena in the form of a memory. Of a familiar melody but almost forgotten over the years. Will it work? She doesn't know for sure, but she has no other idea, so she steps forward and sings. Her voice, shaky at first, begins to sound more determined and the melody fills the room.

Morning turns to her and stops furiously beating her wings. For a moment, Rhaena thinks she's going to cover her in dragonfire, but she doesn't stop singing or looking at her. The words in High Valyrian seem to intrigue her dragon, so Rhaena tentatively raises her hand and signals for Morning to come closer. The creature's gaze falls back on the dead maid before it looks back at Rhaena, and flies towards her, coiling around her neck.

Relief hits her body so hard that Rhaena stumbles, though she manages to grab hold of one of the walls before falling. Morning rubs her snout against her neck, nausea running through her as she smells the blood on her dragon's breath.

“Keep singing.”

Aemond’s voice reaches her and makes her jump again. She hasn’t noticed the moment her cousin has entered the room, though she finds him standing next to the guards, watching the scene before him with a frown.

“You have to calm her down, Rhaena.”

She nods and resumes the song, her fingers tentatively stroking the creature’s spiked tail. Morning doesn’t protest, so the girl continues her caresses while she watches Aemond speaking to the guards in a voice so low that she can’t hear them. The men nod and quietly leave the room.

Rhaena raises her gaze to the prince, who holds hers, though he doesn’t move from his position or make any attempt to approach them. The girl focuses her gaze back on her dragon, who seems to calm completely under the melody and her touch. She doesn't know how much time passes, although it's probably just a few minutes, but when she hears footsteps outside her room, she sings louder so as not to disturb her dragon.

Aemond nods in her direction, and heads for the door, returning a few moments later with a cage similar to the one Morning uses. Rhaena understands what the prince wants to do, so she nods as well and looks down at her dragon.

“Lykirī, Morning”

Aemond tentatively moves toward the two, walking slowly and keeping his eyes on the dragon. Morning grimaces and wags her tail, but shows no signs of aggression, so the prince walks over to Rhaena and sets the cage down on the floor.

Rhaena slowly kneels and opens the cage door. Her dragon, accustomed to action, enters without making much fuss, though she growls again when her gaze drifts to the body across the room.

“It is okay, Morning, everything is going to be okay,” she whispers as she closes the cage.

Aemond helps her to her feet, and when their gazes meet, Rhaena can clearly see the annoyance and reproach in his expression.

“I didn’t think that…”

He doesn’t give her time to finish speaking as he crosses the room in a couple of strides and returns to the guards, who are carrying a metal litter of sorts, which they set down on the floor.

“What is this?”

Aemond grimaces before answering, “This is what I should have done since your dragon arrived at the castle.”

Rhaena understands the meaning of his words a moment later as the guards rush to place Morning’s cage inside the litter, immediately closing it.

“Where do you think you are taking my dragon?” she asks, outraged.

“Where do you think they are taking her?” Aemond growls back, his voice full of sarcasm.

Rhaena glares at him, but as the guards begin to advance with the litter, she goes after one of them, grabbing his arm and trying to stop him.

“No, you can’t do that, you can’t…”

The guard breaks free of her grip with ease and abruptness, pushing her away and elbowing her side. Rhaena makes a pained noise, and Aemond is at her side instantly, sword in hand and pointing at the guard, “Hurt the princess one more time and you will lose your hand,” he threatens, furious.

“It is okay, I am fine,” she rushes to tell him, placing her hand on Aemond’s arm to lower his sword. The prince turns to look at her before doing so, putting his weapon away and allowing the guards to continue their advance, “Please, Aemond, order them to stop, they cannot…”

“Follow your orders,” the prince interrupts, looking at the guards.

“No, no…” Rhaena tries to follow them, but Aemond holds her arm, preventing her, “Let me go, Aemond. Now”

“Your dragon cannot remain in the Tower,” he ignores her

“Morning didn't mean to kill her,” her gaze falls on the corpse across the room, “She didn't… she didn't know”

“A dragon is not a pet, I told you that several times,” he hisses

“The maid wasn't supposed to be in my room, I forbade them entry, you know that,” tears stream down Rhaena’s face, “This shouldn’t have happened.”

“But it did! And now a maid is dead,” Aemond curses under his breath, “I should have sent your dragon to the Dragon Pit as soon as she arrived. I didn’t do it out of consideration for you, but we can’t continue to deny the obvious.”

“The obvious?”

“Morning is out of control. She barely obeys you, you had to repeat your orders dozens of times and she wouldn’t even come near you,” his voice, full of fury, strikes her insides, “By insisting on treating her like a child she hasn’t bonded properly with you.”

“That’s not true! Morning obeyed, she was just… What about you? Hasn’t Vhagar attacked someone who didn’t deserve it before?”

Aemond lets go of her arm and glares at her before turning his back and walking towards the door. Rhaena reacts immediately, following him.

“I am going with you.”

“It’s best you stay here.”

“I must go with Morning.”

“She doesn’t need you now,” he replies, stopping at the door to the room, “Stay in the Tower until the situation is sorted out.”

“No! I’ll go with you or…”

“Guard!�� Aemond calls out and the man appears immediately, “The princess is not to leave her chambers under any circumstances.”

“This is ridiculous!” Rhaena protests as she takes a step and is intercepted by the guard, “You cannot do this!”

The prince looks at her one last time before disappearing down the hall without another word.

***

“The dragon will be protected as per your command, prince.”

Aemond nods as he watches Morning’s litter fade into the darkness of the Dragonpit.

It has been years since he visited the place. The last time had been the day he had inspected that it had been properly rebuilt to house Tessarion and hopefully any other dragons that might be born later. After that occasion, he had not needed to return. Vhagar had always preferred to seek shelter near the beaches, so that was where the prince visited her since he claimed her.

“I want a couple extra guards watching the entrance to the cave,” he orders, “With orders to attack if they see suspicious activity. Also, no new servants or strange people are to enter, only the designated caretakers and my brother.”

“As you command, prince.”

He doesn't plan to take any chances with the safety of the last dragons of House Targaryen. The news of the servant's death would surely be public knowledge soon enough, and although the people have not rebelled or attacked a dragon again since the days of the war, he prefers not to assume that they will remain as peaceful after what happened.

Aemond returns to his horse and rides quickly to the castle, wanting to go directly to the Tower, but having to go to the Council instead.

"My prince."

The members of the council stand as he enters, sitting immediately as he takes his place at the head and places the marble sphere on the table..

"I assume you heard what happened to Rhaena's dragon," he says, addressing no one in particular.

"Very unfortunate news," Tyland Lannister comments.

“Indeed,” the Grand Maester agrees, “Poor girl.”

“Did she have family?”

“A brother. He works as a blacksmith’s apprentice in the city.”

“Has the news reached him?”

“Not yet, Prince.”

“Mmm,” Aemond looks up at Tyland, “It would be best for him to know at once. Rumors will soon spread.”

“Of course,” the Lannister nods, adding, “It would probably be a good idea to offer him some monetary compensation for his loss.”

Aemond nods.

“The silent sisters have already taken care of the body,” the Maester continues, “It appears it was a quick death and the girl did not suffer too much.”

Aemond does not answer, but instead fiddles with the marble sphere as he listens to the exchange between the two men about small mercies, feeling inwardly annoyed with the situation with each passing moment. Although he knows that no member of the council will directly say to him, they probably internally blame him for having allowed the dragon to live in the Court when never, in the history of his house, had a dragon remained in the halls as if it were just another pet.

“Shall we assume the dragon is already at the Dragonpit?” Lannister asks

“I gave orders to tighten security,” Aemond nods and then glances at Ser Criston

“I will see that it is carried out as instructed, my prince.”

“Keep an eye on the city as well.”

Tyland Lannister shifts uncomfortably in his chair, “I doubt we have another mutiny on our hands, my prince. I am sorry to say, but the lass was a young girl of no great importance, it would be a stretch to think the common people would rise up over an accident.”

“It cannot be ruled out,” Ser Criston replies

“Any other news?” Aemond asks

“A raven has arrived reporting Ser Adrian’s arrival at Maidenpool.”

“Maidenpool? They left days ago, how come they are only just at Maidenpool?”

“The snow, my lord. It hasn’t fallen on the city yet, but it slows the advance of the party.”

“Mmm,” Aemond grimaces. He had sent Ser Adrian Celtigar a few days ago in command of a group of men to gather information on the attacks on the nobles.

“Ser Adrian is a capable warrior,” Cole interjects, looking at him and surely aware of the prince’s reservations, “Surely he will be able to make up for lost time quickly, and we will have news soon.”

“Good. Inform me as soon as anything is known,” he says, turning to the maester and standing up, ending the meeting and heading straight to the Tower, where he is greeted by a strange aroma similar to the incense of the Great Sept, “What is that smell?” he asks his servant.

“The incense of the silent sisters, my prince,” the man informs, “The body was taken a few hours ago.”

“Right,” he nods, “My wife?”

“In her chambers, my prince.”

Aemond sighs and debates whether or not to go meet her. Rhaena had been very agitated after the incident, and had not taken kindly to the idea of ​​parting with her dragon, which was ridiculous considering the circumstances. She was probably still angry with him, although perhaps the hours had allowed her to think more calmly about the situation.

“Go and tell her that I wish her to dine with me.”

The servant bows and goes to carry out his orders while Aemond sits at the table set in front of him. The man returns a moment later.

“The princess… she said…” the man looks down, “The princess says she does not wish to dine, my prince.”

“Mmm,” Aemond fiddles with the dinner knife, “Go again and tell her I insist she join me.”

The servant leaves again, but when he returns, the answer is the same, “The princess says she will remain in her chambers, my lord. As… as you ordered.”

Aemond slams the knife down on the table, his temper beginning to flare. Standing up so abruptly that he knocks over his chair, he strides toward Rhaena’s room. The guard steps aside immediately, letting him through.

“I said I did not want to dine with you,” Rhaena’s words greet him, though she is facing away from him and looking out the window at the view of the Bay.

“Are you going to spend the whole night locked in here?” he asks, his voice oddly calm despite the anger he feels.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” Rhaena turns to face him, “You locked me in here, didn’t you?”

“Because I needed you to stay here for a while, not because…”

“I am not interested in your explanations,” she retorts, cutting him off, “Or in your company. “Go away, Aemond.”

“Rhaena,” the prince threatens, moving closer to her, “You are my wife. I wish to dine with you tonight. Put this charade aside and come with me.”

“I do not want to,” she replies once more.

“You do not wish to know about your dragon either?”

His wife’s face betrays her, her interest and hunger for news clearly visible in her expression. The prince thinks she will relent, but ultimately Rhaena just shakes her head, “I wish to be alone.”

Aemond clenches his hands into fists and bites back his words, though he glares at her, “Fine. If you wish to be treated as a prisoner, then so be it.”

The prince leaves the room and again orders the guard not to let his wife out. Still, he calls for a maid, and orders her to bring a tray of food for Rhaena before locking himself in his own chambers.

***

The night passes slowly in a state between wakefulness and sleep. As the sun begins to rise on the horizon, Aemond gets out of bed and dresses for training. As he gets ready, his gaze wanders to the empty side where Rhaena's figure should be. After spending the last few weeks sleeping next to her, waking up without finding her or feeling the warmth of her body hugging his own, had been strange and depressing.

After leaving his room, he can't help but pass by Rhaena's. The guard greets him with a bow and Aemond is tempted to enter, to see her for at least a few minutes, perhaps to persuade her to... The prince tilts his head. No. He hasn't done anything wrong. It's she who is behaving in a reprehensible and capricious manner.

Aemond leaves the Tower and focuses his mind on his training. If Ser Criston notices his disquiet, he doesn't say anything, they just fight side by side until it's time to go to the council room. As he heads there, he encounters Daeron and his betrothed. Although he hadn't planned to stop and talk to them, he finds himself approaching them both.

“Good morning, my prince,” the young woman greets.

“Brother, Lady Westerling,” he flicks his eye to the lady, “I assume you’re on your way to see Rhaena?”

“Indeed, my lord, Lady Rhaena has an… an audience this morning, but after what happened, I wasn’t uh… I wasn’t sure she would go through with it.”

“We heard about what happened with the maid,” Daeron chimes in.

“Indeed,” Aemond grimaces, “It’s best that you, Lady Westerling, go to the Tower. Rhaena is… confined to her chambers.”

“Confined? Why?” Marianne pales, “Is she ill? Did something happen to her? They said she wasn’t hurt, I thought…”

The girl trails off at Aemond’s displeased expression. Daeron rolls his eyes at his brother and places his hand on his betrothed’s shoulder, “Surely Rhaena can explain the situation better.”

Marianne nods, “With your permission, I will go see her.”

Aemond nods, and watches her offer a smile to his brother before disappearing into the halls. When they are alone, Daeron speaks again.

“Confined?”

“Rhaena didn’t take too well to her dragon being moved to the Dragonpit?”

“And so, you locked her in her chambers?” There is a note of amusement in his brother’s tone.

“Of course not,” he replies, “Not permanently. I just want to keep her from going after Morning, you know she must learn to obey the caretakers before she begins to bond with Rhaena. She won’t be able to if Rhaena interferes in the process.”

“Of course,” Daeron nods, “It’s a shame the incident with the maid happened. Mother told me she was a young woman who had only just begun working at the palace. She and Lord Lannister met with her brother yesterday to let him know the news.”

Aemond snorts, “I thought Mother was too busy with Aegon to take care of other matters.”

“You know her, she couldn’t just stand aside,” Daeron walks beside him, “Still I think it was appropriate for a family member to show concern for what happened instead of just trivializing the fact.”

Aemond nods and they walk in silence for a few moments, “Did Mother tell you about your betrothal?”

“What would she have to say to me?”

“The idea of advancing the wedding date was discussed,” explains the prince

Daeron stops and looks down for a moment, when he turns back to face his older brother, there is a shadow of apprehension on his face, “For what reason?”

“The usual reason. Heirs.”

Aemond seems to notice his brother’s expression darken briefly, but it passes so quickly that he may have just imagined it, “Of course. The heirs,” he sighs, “Did she mention when I should be married?”

“No. Though I doubt it will take too long,” he replies and, because he can’t help but be curious, comments, “You seem to be getting along well with your betrothed.”

Daeron smirks and nods, “She will be a fine wife.”

The prince narrows his eye and examines his younger brother, but in the end simply lets his suspicions go. He has enough to worry about without adding Daeron’s possible displeasure at the idea of ​​marriage, “We will speak later. The council awaits me.”

***

Rhaena wakes up drenched in sweat, with the sheets tangled at her feet.

A nightmare. It had only been a nightmare.

Not really, though.

Her eyes immediately drift to the spot where three days ago she had found the corpse of the poor maid Morning had attacked. Even though the silent sisters and other maids had thoroughly cleaned her room, she can still see the scene clearly, she can smell the blood on her dragon's snout, the heat of the dragon fire…

Rhaena sighs and walks around the room. It's barely dawn, and it's very cold, but she wraps herself in her coat and drops onto one of the sofas, hugging her legs, unable to sleep. The sound of footsteps, like the days before, warns her of the prince's presence outside her room. And, like the days before, he stays there. Without entering. Just like her, who has refused his invitations to dine together, preferring to stay in her chambers. At least at night, because during the day she walks around the Tower with Marianne, unable to spend too much time in her own room surrounded by the memory of the crime.

And then there’s Morning. She hasn’t seen her dragon in days and hasn’t pressed for information because she knows that, despite their argument, Aemond is taking good care of her. She knows the prince won’t let anything bad happen to her. Still… the urge to go to the Dragon Pit was latent inside her. She hadn’t left her dragon’s side for a single day since she hatched from the egg, and being separated now causes her pain and anguish. Her dragon had been her company, her friend, her…

Rhaena closes her eyes at the sight of Morning roaring and wanting to get closer to the corpse. Maybe – although deep down she’s sure – the prince was right. Her dragon was out of control, it wasn’t sustainable to have her by her side or in her day to day life anymore, but… she had wanted it to be her decision to send her to the Dragon Pit. She hadn’t wanted…

“I hadn’t wanted her to kill someone,” she whispers to the darkness, a tear rolling down her face again. Rhaena takes a deep breath before calling a maid to take a bath. After eating something, Marianne joins her in her private parlor, just like the other days.

“What do the Court rumors say?”

“They think you’re still processing what happened,” her lady replies, “I explained to them that you were taking a few days off from engagements for personal reasons,” when Rhaena snorts, asking, “Did I do wrong?”

“No, no, of course not,” she is quick to reply, taking her lady’s hand, “I just do not want to give the wrong impression. I do not want them to think I crumble easily.”

“It is not an easy situation. I don’t think anyone see it that way.”

“There is not much I can do, anyway.”

“Have you spoken to the prince? Have you asked him how long this situation will continue?”

“I don’t want to speak to him,” she replies, stubborn.

“I think he is genuinely sorry,” Marianne smirks, “He seems more irritable than usual these days. He surely misses you.”

“He should have thought of that before confining me to my chambers.”

Marianne clicks her tongue, “I know it wasn’t right of him, but the situation got out of hand, Rhaena. Morning…”

“I know,” Rhaena cuts her off, “I know I should have sent her to the Dragon Pit a long time ago. “I know it is basically my fault what happened.”

“I never said that!” Marianne retorts, “You were clear with your orders, it is not your fault that the young lady was not properly informed by the other maids. It was not your fault either that the cage gave way and Morning escaped.”

“I just… don’t understand,” she drops down onto the couch, defeated, “I locked her cage tight, I know I did, how could that happen?”

“She is a wild creature, Rhaena. And powerful. She broke her chains and the poor servant was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Rhaena tries to make her words lessen her guilt, though they have little effect. Deep inside, she knows it was her negligence for her desire to have Morning by her side.

“Let us talk about something else, please,” she finally asks.

“Of course,” Marianne takes some scrolls she has brought in a chest, “I have the guest list for your name day party and also possible menus, as well as some activities we could do on those days. Nothing too extravagant…”

Rhaena concentrates on approving Marianne’s ideas, making changes where she deems necessary, and helping her assign seats to the noble guests. The task takes up a good part of the day and, when evening comes, her lady takes her leave to go in search of her uncle. Rhaena remains in the parlor until night falls, knitting and focusing on intricate embroidery patterns to keep her mind off Morning, so she is unaware of the prince’s presence until he is almost in front of her.

“I see you decided to leave your room.”

“Do not worry,” she replies, standing up, “I will return to my confines right away.”

“I’d rather you stayed here.”

Rhaena thinks she detects a note of hope and vulnerability in Aemond’s voice, but when she looks at his expression, she finds it as serious and indifferent as ever, “And I prefer to return to my solitude.” Pushing her embroidery aside, she stands up and begins to walk to the door.

“Rhaena,” the prince’s voice makes her pause, “How long will you continue to behave like a spoiled child?” She bites her tongue to keep from responding and falling for his provocation, walking again. His words make her pause again, “You are my wife. You owe me obedience.”

Rhaena turns to look at him, “Are you going to order me to spend time with you now?”

Aemond glares at her, “Of course not. I simply meant that I… I…”

The prince stops talking and Rhaena watches how nervous he seems, drumming his fingers on his thighs. She waits for him to finish what he was going to say, but it is clear that he will not. Part of her feels disappointed, as she would like to know what it is that is so hard for him to admit.

“Then, unless you are going to take by force what you want from me, I prefer to go to my rooms.”

***

Aemond has a budding headache as he enters the council chamber.

“What is it?” he asks without wasting any time.

A servant had interrupted his inspection of the new weapons acquired for the Kingsguard, informing him that the council was urgently awaiting him.

“Ser Adrian Celtigar, my lord,” the Grand Maester speaks, “We received a raven from Lord Darry. They found the bodies of Ser Adrian and the entire party you sent… slaughtered.”

Aemond’s fury is palpable, his hand involuntarily going to his Valyrian steel dagger as he processes the news.

“Are you telling me that common bandits managed to kill trained knights?”

“We have no certainty that it was the bandits, my prince,” Lannister interjects.

“That’s even worse,” Aemond hisses, “Who would dare assassinate envoys of the Crown? That affront is reason enough to call to arms.”

The men look at each other, but no one says anything for a few seconds until the Grand Master dares to extend another piece of parchment towards Aemond.

“My prince, this… this was stuck in Ser Adrian’s head.”

Aemond takes the scroll and opens it, finding a drawing of a familiar banner he thought he would never see again.

“This is treason,” he retorts, tossing up the drawing of the coat of arms used by Rhaenyra during the rebellion, “We must act immediately. Prepare my departure as soon as possible, I will go myself.”

“My prince, no, it is not wise,” Lord Tyland says quickly, “You are the regent, you cannot be absent…”

“This could mean war,” Aemond interrupts, “And I clearly cannot send other soldiers because they do not seem capable enough to fulfill their duty.”

“Send me, my prince,” Ser Criston proposes, “I can go with a few men, and gather information on the situation.”

“No, I prefer that you remain here.”

“Prince Daeron, then,” the grand maester says, “Along with his dragon, he will surely be of help in deterring the rebels.”

“My brother will remain in the city,” he answers flatly. He had already erred in trust once and left King’s Landing unprotected. His foolishness had brought terrible consequences for his family. He did not intend to repeat his mistake and leave his family, leave Rhaena, in the care of simple soldiers, “Daeron will act as regent on my behalf. Ser Criston, I want your best men ready to leave this very afternoon.”

“But, my prince…” the maester intervenes again, “With winter beginning, you cannot simply leave the city. The provisions…”

“I suggest you take care of that immediately, then,” his tone lets the man know that it is not a simple suggestion, but an order. After that, no one else dares to dissuade him or suggest otherwise, “One more thing. My wife will participate in the council meetings during my absence.”

“My prince?” Tyland Lannister looks at him, astonished.

“What you heard, Lannister,” he replies abruptly, “Lady Rhaena must be informed of the situation of the city and the kingdom, as well as being able to decide with you on whatever is necessary.”

“But, my prince, your brother Daeron will be the regent, I do not understand.”

“You do not need to understand, only obey,” Aemond says.

And with that, he leaves the council room with Ser Criston.

***

The door to her private parlor opens to allow her cousin to enter.

“Daeron?” Rhaena smiles at him as she stands, “I was not expecting you.”

“I am sorry if I interrupt your activities,” the prince takes her hand and brings it to his lips, brushing her knuckles, “I thought you might want to get out of the Tower for a bit.”

“Oh, well…” Rhaena sighs and looks away, “I do not know if you are aware, Marianne probably mentioned it, but I am currently confined to the Tower.”

“Yes, I heard,” he nods, “Though my brother assured me it wasn’t permanent.”

In that, Rhaena thinks, he was right. She had heard Aemond inform the guards that Rhaena could leave if she so wished, but she had wanted to irritate him a little more by staying a few more days in the Tower.

“I thought we could visit the Dragon Pit.”

“Really?” Rhaena looks at him, amazed

“Yes, of course I can’t guarantee that you will see Morning, but I think you’d feel more at ease if you knew more about the place where she is staying.”

Rhaena smiles at him, grateful. Apart from having seen the building in passing during her arrival in the city or her walks, she hadn’t explored it inside.

“Do you think it is wise?”

“It is now,” her cousin assures, “Dragons are usually accustomed to the presence of caretakers from birth. Yours didn’t have that experience, which is why Aemond insisted you not see Morning for the time being. My brother didn’t mean to take you away from your dragon, I promise.”

Rhaena knows that. She had let herself be blinded by grief and guilt the first few days, but she knew that the best thing for Morning was to remain in the Dragonpit, and be treated and trained like the other dragons in her family.

“I am ashamed, to tell the truth,” she admits as she takes the arm her cousin offers her as they leave the Tower, “I was too stubborn to insist on having Morning with me, even when I knew I couldn’t control her. We cannot deny her instincts.”

“It is true,” Daeron nods.

“And a young girl paid for my mistakes. Her name was Betsy, she had just started serving at the castle,” Rhaena had finally dared to make inquiries about the maid, “Have you heard anything about her family?”

“My mother met with her brother to give him the news.”

“Do you know where I can find him? I would like to speak to him, I would like to…”

“Offer your condolences?” Daeron looks at her sympathetically, though his expression hardens, “It is not a good idea, Rhaena. As much sympathy as we have for the servant, you are a princess and the wife of the Hand of the King. To visit or summon this man would be to give the matter more importance.”

“But it is important!” she replies, “She was a young girl, an innocent life.”

“I know, I am aware of that,” his cousin assures, “But you must understand that the accident happened in the castle, in a place where she should have been safe. If we cannot guarantee her safety within our own keep, they will begin to perceive us as a weak family. We cannot afford that now, just as we cannot afford you to show too much sympathy towards the young girl. There is a reason we are the royal family and they are…”

“The common people,” Rhaena finishes, feeling inwardly sickened by his words, “It is not fair.”

“No, it is not.”

They remain silent for a long moment as the carriage takes them to the Dragonpit. When Daeron helps her down, he speaks again, “Don’t let yourself be consumed by grief, Rhaena. It was an accident, you never wanted it to happen. You must put it behind you and move on.”

Rhaena wants to tell him that it's not as easy as he thinks, but she knows he's right. She knows that, as harsh as reality is, there's not much she can do to change it.

“I'd like to at least be able to help her brother, even if it's anonymously.”

“We've already taken care of that, don't worry.”

Rhaena gives him a sad smile, and allows him to lead her into the building, which is bathed in shadows and barely lit by a few torches on the walls. Six golden cloaks greet them, and a moment later, the dragon keepers appear to inform her about her dragon, who they say has adapted quite well to her new home.

“This place is very well guarded,” Rhaena comments as they leave.

“My brother ordered security to be doubled when Morning was brought in.”

Daeron's words manage to form a knot in her stomach. She knew Aemond was protecting her dragon, but seeing firsthand that he had done everything he could to ensure Morning was safe warms her heart.

“I have been a fool,” she admits as they walk back to the carriage. Daeron simply looks at her, raising his eyebrows and tacitly asking for an explanation. “I took my guilt and pain out on Aemond. I knew he was right about this whole matter, and that he was looking to resolve it in the best way possible, but I chose to be angry with him instead. I owe him an apology.”

A smirk appears on the prince’s face, “Funny.”

“What is it?”

“I just… remembered the first time we were in a carriage, when you had just arrived in the city,” he explains, “I remember your expression when you found out you were to marry Aemond. You seemed horrified at the prospect, and now… a lot has changed between you two since then.”

Rhaena blushes and looks down, though a small smile appears on her face. Fortunately, the carriage stops in the courtyard of the Keep, and her cousin helps her out.

“What’s all the hustle and bustle?” she asks as she watches soldiers giving orders, and servants placing different objects on carriages.

“Let’s find out,” Daeron proposes, and heads over to Criston Cole, “Ser Criston, what is happening here?”

“My prince, princess,” the knight greets them, “The royal council urgently requires both of your presence.”

“Now?” Daeron frowns, confused.

“Yes, my prince, troubling news has arrived from the Riverlands.”

Rhaena receives his words with a jolt in her heart, “What kind of troubling news?” she hears Daeron ask, but she looks to Ser Criston instead and asks, “Where is Aemond?”

There is a moment of confusion and hesitation in his expression, but finally the knight answers, “The prince insisted on personally taking care of the matter, and leaving to Maidenpool.”

“When will he leave? How come I didn’t know about this? Where is he?”

Rhaena scans the courtyard with her gaze, trying to find Aemond’s platinum hair, but without success. It isn’t until Ser Criston gently places one of his hands on her shoulder, that she faces the knight again.

“The prince is not in the castle, Lady Rhaena. He left a few hours ago.”

Thanks for reading :)

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[skyfallslayer]

A Careful Whisper || Chapter 1

-AQP D1: Eric x Fem!Reader-

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

🔇Chapter Summary: You knew that this day was going to be full of risk and danger, but you didn’t think you’d be stumbling through New York with a hole in your side. All you needed to do was wait for the signal and everything should be okay. Everything… well… from the sound of it, you might be too late anyway.

🔇Pairings: Eric x Fem!Reader

🔇Rating: Mature

🔇Word Count: 3,077

🔇Date: 7/11/24

🔇Warnings: Reader Has Military Training; Reader Has a Potty Mouth; Death/Murdering; Talks of How to Unalive People; Reader Might Have Done This a lot In This Chapter; Gun Use; Assault; Fighting; Mention of Blood and Open Wound. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

(And let me know if I missed anything)

🔇A/N: Hot damn! It's finally here. A bit of trial and error here for this one. I hate when I have an idea of what I want and then you either A) have trouble writing it out, or B) start write it until a new and better idea forms and changes everything. Lol. Anyway, it's short, but enjoy!

The day was June 18th, 2020. How did you know this? Well… this was the day you were looking forward to. It was the day you were supposed to change everything, to make sure the inevitable doom didn’t destroy lives. But of course–

Your life went to shit. It always found a way to go to shit. The day had turned sour before you even could blink. And now–

You’re stumbling through the Big Apple with a huge wound on your side.

This whole situation was supposed to be easy, a quick pop in on your ally, a quick exchange that was supposed to be easy – not traumatizing and changing your plans immensely. You’re already feeling dazed and confused as you run out of your colleague’s apartment, a death grip on the laptop he left behind. You’re sure you can hear your attackers moving around and trying to find you.

No. They can’t find you. Not when you had something that could literally save billions of lives worldwide. They can’t stop you. They shouldn’t stop you. You don’t understand why they didn’t want this info to be public. Sure, maybe questions will be thrown around about them, but–

As you turned and were about to bolt down the stairs, you saw one of the men a few feet behind with his silencer trained on you. You duck and nearly throw yourself down the stairs as the casing jams itself into the wall. You pretty much just took as big of a step you could without falling to cut some of your run time down — while you listen to the echoes of the three footsteps above. As soon as your feet touched the floor on the last level you were out of the building in less than a second, blending into the everyday busy streets. 

You and your colleagues agreed to meet at the apartment for that very reason in case someone unwanted came along and wanted to end the party. Yet to be honest, you thought you guys would be out of the blue, safe in a busy city that could have a hundred witnesses at a time. But you were wrong, and now you’re struggling to get through the crowds without passing out. 

You heard the laptop, the ones that could fold in half like a tablet, beep and you glance down. An error message popped up on the screen making your curse.

Fuck. No. You nearly stumbled into a passerby-er upon reading it.

“Sorry.” You said, looking frantically around. The smell of freshly grilled hot dogs hits your nose, your stomach rumbling from the lack of eating for several days, but you push it aside and hide beside the food truck. “Shit, shit, shit.”

You start furiously tapping the screen, typing any code you could muster to get the error to disappear. “Come on, you piece of shit. Work.” You kept typing and typing, the screen beeping and returning to normal. You smile. “...Yes.”

“Hey!”

Your eyes snap up and you see one of the men storming towards you, bitterness on his rough features. With all your strength, and your deepest apologies, you grab and shoved the civilian next to you at the attacker before bolting. You duck through the crowd, occasionally looking back. Your heart was in your throat, dark spots danced through your vision, and your head was pounding.

Come on! Will this stupid thing finish uploading already?! You yelp in surprise as someone’s hand latched around your wrist, pulling you to a stop.

“Hey, Baby.” The man said, grinning, and started pulling on you – there was also a lie resting on his very punch-able lips. “Why did you leave in such a hurry? We didn’t even finish our meal.”

You groan at the pressure, and how he starts tugging into an alleyway. You look around again, realizing how ‘normal’ this must look in a city like New York. He starts reaching for the laptop, and you shift your body away from his reach; Upon doing so, he starts applying more force, ready to snap your bone if necessary. You hissed through your teeth, trying to find some kind of an opening. 

“Come on, Lieutenant.” He urges, a deranged look in his discolored eye. “Comply.”

“Comply, my ass.” You spat, before headbutting him in the nose, temporarily stunning him.

You dodged the punch and the attempt to put you in a choke hold; You even managed to grab his own wrist and put him in some type of submission. When you finally see your opening, you push him gently forward while grabbing his gun off his belt, and proceed to shoot him once in the back of the kneecap. He falls flat with a cry, and your gaze looks out of the alleyway, checking to see if anyone heard or saw that (Shocker, nobody notices a thing in this city). You then made your way out of it when your coast was clear.

“L-Lieutenant!” He choked, trying to reach out for you. “You don’t know what you’re doing! Lieutenant!”

You ran back into the crowd, the silencer tucked underneath your jacket. You needed to get out of the city, but how? You look around, you see a taxi, an electric scooter, a subway sign.

A subway sign!

That’s perfect. You made your way down the stairs to the underground system, pulling your jacket closer to conceal the weapon – your ever oozing wound. You knew the subway lines pretty well, it was just the matter of getting on one that’ll take you far, or at least get on one that was already pulling into the station when you get there (You can’t really afford to wait around for one too long). 

But of course, your luck continues to be shitty as you hop over one of the turnstiles. You immediately feel the worker’s hand on your shoulder and you cuss mentally.

“Subway pass or ticket?” 

You bite the inside of your cheek before flashing up a smile. “I’m so sorry, I completely forgot.” You reply, trying to look and sound really genuine. “I-I lost track of time and I’m running late for work, completely forgetting my wallet.”

The woman’s face softens a smidge, but she doesn’t budge. “I’m sorry about that, but you still need a ticket or pass to get on.”

You sigh, sadly. “Can’t you let this slide once, please?” I mean, people jump these things all the time. Come on, Lady.

“I’m sorry–” She continues, and your eyes catch the two remaining men coming down the stairs. “But it’s policy. Or otherwise–”

“Hey!” You perk up with a giant grin. “What a coincidence!” You start pointing as they suddenly spot you. “That’s my boyfriend over there coming with his brother. Maybe he can pay for my ticket.”

“That’s your– HEY!!”

You’re already flying down another set of stairs when she shouts after you, and your attackers pick up the speed. The platforms were crowded, but that can only give you so much cover, especially since your ride wasn’t here yet. 

“Fuck…” You mumbled, and stole a peek from your laptop. The uploading sequence was almost complete, but god damn it! It was slow as hell. “For Christ’s sake.”

“Y/N!” One of your attackers yelled out, as he and his partner came down the steps as calm as cucumbers. “Sweetheart! Where you at?”

“Shit…” You know what they’re doing. They’re going to try to out you in public. Make people feel bad and accidentally out you. And it seemed to be working as you can faintly hear them describing you to someone what you look like.

You start hanging your head low and slouch your body. Alright, what can I do? If I get on the subway they might not be able to do anything with the amount of people… but what if they don’t care? This is New York. They could just shoot me blank in the head and scare civilians enough to blend into the crowd at the next stop.

You gnawed on the tip of your thumb. But what if I get on the subway and there’s hardly anyone? I’ll definitely be a dead man for sure so…

You heard someone mention what you’re wearing and took a peak, watching as a random civilian nodded at your attacker before gesturing your way. Jeez, thanks, man. 

What do you do? What do you do? What do you do? What do you do?!

You heard the intercom chime and announced the subway was pulling up from your right; So that’ll give you less than a minute for arrival time, and probably around the same time to load everyone up. That’s enough time for what you’re thinking about do–

You saw the men start stalking closer and you said a little prayer. This has got to be the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. 

That’s when you took a risk and jumped onto the tracks, heading to the left tunnel and booked it. You heard people shouting, and your attackers screaming your name and telling you not to do this. You wanted to roll your eyes at the thought of what “backstory” they came up with to try to woo people over – probably told everyone you were his wife who forgot to take her meds this morning and is storming NYC in a crazy state. – Sounds like a story two out of three people would believe.

Despite your very vague idea where you were going, your plan was to run to the next platform, crawl out, get above ground and take a taxi out of the city. Or maybe, in the mince of panic you’re about to ensure, you can possibly sprint to your apartment in Central, get some stuff before you’ll have to go off the grid for betraying your country. Heck, the more you think about that, the more that’s probably compromised too. 

But first things first. Get this thing–

The wind was knocked out of you as soon as you tackled from behind. The laptop gets slammed onto the tracks by your weight before slipping out. The guy uses his size as an advantage to hold you down with his legs, and begins applying pressure to your neck with his hands. You make a gasping sound for air as your own try prying him away. Meanwhile, his partner picks up the device to examine it.

“How’s it coming?” The guy holding you down, asks.

“It’s at 96 percent.” His reply made you wheeze. You were so close. So close to finishing what you started. 

“96 percent?” His eyebrows shoot up before looking relatively cocky again. “Man, Lieutenant, I got to say you were one of our best hackers, so I guess I’m not surprised it’s almost complete in… hmm. How long have we been chasing you since Captain Reeds’ apartment?” His gaze catches his partners. “What’s your guess? 8 minutes? 10?”

“I’d say 10.”

“Yeah? Ten’s a good number.” He grins, creepily. “You did quite the number on Michael back in the alleyway. Didn’t think you–”

You managed to slip out your gun and press it under his chin, igniting the trigger. His body falls and you push it off you with a gasp of fresh air. Maybe you really should try to hide away in Hawaii before the world went to–

The other guy heaved you up from behind, an arm around your waist, a hand over your mouth. You start kicking the air and frantically wiggling your body. Your attacker was much taller than you, bulkier too – it was hard enough for you to try to use your gun on him ‘cause he was restricting your arm movement.

“Lieutenant, come on. Just listen.” He pressures, as you send him a nasty look before sinking your teeth into his palm. “Ow!” He removes his bleeding palm to wrap his arm around your head and press it against his shoulder. “Lieutenant–”

“Let me go!” You snarled, wiggling some more. “For fuck’s sake! You know I’m just trying to help!” Can’t these dummies see any kind of sense of what you’re doing? You’re not the bad guy here!

His moments slightly faltered. Slightly. But he still didn’t give in to your reasoning. “Sorry, Lieutenant.”

He starts shifting his stance, placing his hands in the position to snap your neck as you start pleading with him. Maybe… lady luck is going to be the one to pity you this time. ‘Cause now, lights were in your view and the rail line was shaking below you.

Like a deer in some headlights, your attacker froze at the sight. He mumbled something and his grip loosened enough for you to elbow him in the chin. You dodged his efforts to grab you again, swooping down to snag the laptop and run – the damn subway hot on your tail. The tunnel was coming up to a split, and you noticed which direction it was going in and headed for the clear side. But…

You had to deal with the other issue first. You still had the silencer you stole, not sure how much ammunition you had left, and part of you wants to risk it all and try to wing it. So when you whipped around to see he was a few steps behind you, you had to wait for the perfect moment to get him off guard. However, in that very moment, something was nagging you. What if there weren’t just three guys? What if there was more waiting for you somewhere around the city? Then what? Your hand-to-hand combat could only get you so far. 

You don’t know what you’re thinking, you almost felt guilty for taking out the man in this form of fashion; Yet when he got to be about an arm’s length away…

You plant a kick square in his chest and sent him into the passing subway car. Then…

You nearly collapse.

You let out a mixture of a sigh and a groan, your hand subconsciously touching your side. You felt like it was bleeding more now, but your adrenaline was so high and your body was a big ball of sweat, you could hardly tell. But you need to get it checked out soon, especially when the dark spots return to your (Y/E/C) orbs. 

Wonder if I do have time to go home? You lick your chap lips, thinking just as the device beeped. You pull it up into your view, the words illuminating your face making you smile like you won a prize.

You did it. 

You actually did it. You managed to get the words of the invasion out to every newsroom, radio station and any big social media platforms out there worldwide. 

You did it. You could almost cry, but you laughed with joy instead.  Andrea, Jose, Matt, Winston. We did it. You guys’ plan actually worked. Took a bit, but it all came together in the end. Now I really have to go off the grid.

But maybe you could help a few souls along the way, point them in the right direction, tell them what they have to do when the invaders come. You know as soon as the news station gets wind of it it’s going to be all over people’s phones and TVs. And when it comes to a place like NYC, you know despite the warning you sent of ‘Not Panicking’, there’s going to be panic. Maybe it’ll be a blessing in disguise for you, a crowd running wild in the streets maybe will give you enough coverage to run and hide.

It’s almost too good to be true. You managed to pull yourself up onto the platform at the next station, surely getting one or two looks, but whatever. You didn’t care. You could care less as you unplugged the USB from the laptop and tucking it away before discarding the device in a trash can. I’m going to head back home, address my wound, get new clothes and take anything that can help me along the way. I just hope nobody’s waiting in my living room for me.

You took the last step up and out from being underground, stopping at the top with a smile still on your face. Sucks that I’ll never get to– What?

It was like time itself had frozen, and you wonder if your dizzy head is causing this, but you suddenly saw that everyone in the city had stopped. Stopped. Stop their walking, their phone calls, their cars, their bikes – stop everything to…

Look up.

You felt the immediate fear and dread in your gut as you dared to see yourself. You swallow and stare into the bright blue sky. That’s when you saw the very thing you swore to stop – The thing came in the form of what people would think would be meteors, coming down so slowly in great balls of fire… great balls of death.

Your eyes widened as you took a step back in disbelief, nearly tripping down the stairs (You steady yourself on the railing). Everyone was so… quiet while watching. Even the birds didn’t chirp, even the dogs seemed too scared to even breathe. You were too, no doubt. 

No.

No.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no–

You had time. You had time. You were supposed to have time before they got here. Time to prepare everything and everyone. It wasn’t supposed to be this early, they– they–

You mentally slapped yourself. Pull yourself together, Y/N!

You knew what to do. You had training. You prepared yourself for this moment when it came. 

“They’re not meteorites!!” You screamed, getting most attention (Even though your throat burned and ached after being choked, you still had to try). “You need to move away! Hide! And stay quiet! These things are attracted to–”

You didn’t even get to finish your warning when one came crashing down just a few feet in front of you.

The impact was strong, strong enough to throw you and a few people backwards like you weighed nothing. You flew back down the stairs,

.

.

.

And that was the last thing you recall before hitting your head and blacking out.

(TBC)

A/N: Sorry it was a bit short. Consider it a teaser.

-Taglist Is Open-

@idontreallyexistyet @pantheracatluv1105 @tjohn63 @temptressofthetarrot @sunmoonstars666

[mostlyghostlyy]

I can't stop thinking about how badly I want to be Reverend Lester Lowe’s safe space. I want to cuddle the shit out of that man after a nightmare.

As the moon gets fuller and he becomes more and more disheveled. Anxiety and irritation building in him, he pays no mind to keeping himself looking presentable. Five o'clock shadow deepening into a darker shade, you can tell he hasn't shaved in days. Usually gentle green eyes blacken to a shade of unease.

Early on he's confused by the changes. Struggling and failing to keep his temperament in check, and he finds himself isolating in the church the more the moon swells. He keeps telling himself he's just tired and that maybe he's caught a bug that's been going around town. Opting out of any social interaction he can.

The nightmares begin shortly after the first full moon. Ripping, tearing, horrid dreams that feel so vibrantly real he wakes screaming. Shuddering breaths and soft trembles in the dark occupy most of his wolf-less nights. Muttered prayers in hushed tones, aimed at protection and comfort. He's scared, but he can't quite put his finger on why.

When he can't fall asleep or doesn't want to, nightmares digging into his subconscious and giving the tell tale warning signs of their arrival, he'll visit you. “Night walks” he calls them, tells you they soothe his occasional insomnia. Tells you that he “decided to drop by and check in.” even though it's 2 in the morning and any decent person would be asleep. Flashing you a nervous smile, while his hands twist and rub together anxiously. He doesn't want to impose, but he can't help himself.

You know what he needs. He wants you to take him in and make him feel safe. Comfort he gives to others but rarely receives himself. It's vital for him, especially nearing the full moon. The nightmares are bad and his mental state worsens. You don't miss how he trembles, the shimmer of unshed tears brimming in his eyes. As soon as you open the door, sleep is the furthest thing from your mind. You can see the damp beaded sweat on his brow beneath the dull golden glow of porch lights. “Oh, Les.” You coo, foot propping the door open so he can come in of his own accord. Holding your arms out, welcoming him into an embrace if he chooses.

He never refuses. head coming to rest on your shoulder, arms either wrapped tightly around you or crossed over himself. hands rubbing soothing circles on his back. Shuttering breaths don't ease, and you brace yourself for a long night. You expertly navigate backwards to the couch, getting more comfortable for the emotional clean up you're in store for.

“What's wrong, Les?” You tilt his head to look at you, but he avoids your eyes. Silence envelopes the surroundings, everything quiet aside from occasional sniffling. The Reverend was a quiet mourner, lest anyone acknowledge that he had demons of his own.

You wait for him to respond. Many nights he'll avoid it, head dipped low and sulking. Not welcoming conversation he has to partake in, preferring to just wallow in your presence and physical touches.

“Just ain't hav'n a good night s’all” his gentle southern drawl is little more than a whisper, “.....I had another one tonight….. Real bad.” he rubs his eyes furiously. You sigh, gently resting your forehead on his. Hands still resting on his face. He's still avoiding eye contact, it must have been a horrible dream. You don't push him to talk about the nightmares, having him relive it and regurgitate the horrid details sounds needlessly cruel. He tells you if he feels so inclined, although most times he would prefer to forget.

“It's okay. I've got you now. You're safe in my arms, Honey.” you repeat this like a mantra, and he seems to settle down a bit. Breath slowing and deepening. “Let's go lay down and I'll read to you, yeah? Put this nasty business out of your mind.” He nods and you rise, for a brief moment he loses the warmth and shivers. You offer him a hand and he greedily takes it, you lead him to the bedroom. It's almost routine at this point, climbing into bed and Lester follows. Planting himself firmly on top of you, so your arms envelop him. Your soft voice above him begins speaking words from the nearest novel you gave on hand. The sound of your heartbeat thumping steadily, it's so ordinary it makes him feel normal. Like all of this is a bad dream.

He doesn't feel worthy to envelop himself in your reassuring intimacy. He feels dirty and wrong, he wants to hide but he craves your warmth. He feels unclean, like he's tainting faith with his congregation, coming to you for comfort instead of relying only on the word of God to see him through. Look at him now, sharing a bed with a woman he is not wed to. Even if it is only platonic, he feels shameful for it, like hes taking advantage of you. You show him so much compassion he can't help but follow you around like a lost puppy. Savoring your sympathy as long as you provide him with it.

[honeybunniii333]

(SORRY I'VE BEEN DEAD! Also i just realized I never see content for Dez and Ed. Like they have a sibling like relationship (even tho they're cousins), and they're supposedly really close in Canon! But I never saw anything for them, and I decided that needed to be fixed. SO! Here ya go!)

Again, her dad was in the hospital again. It had gotten to where he was there more than home, and that was scary and awful in its own right. But now, because of the sudden dip in his health. He can't take her to their yearly concert! They've gone to one every year since she was four, and it was her favorite part of the summer. They'd already bought their tickets and everything... and then he started getting sick again. Bad enough to land him in the hospital two days before they were supposed to leave... Dez was angry, to say the least. NOT at her dad. She knew better than anyone that the last thing the man ever wanted was to break his little girl's heart. She was mad at life for making this happen. Mad at the cancer for making her poor dad so sick and weak. He didn't deserve this. She felt so lost, so out of control. She didn't know what to do, she had to do something. She was SO tired of feeling powerless. She didn't even think about it as she grabbed the scissors from the counter.

Horror, she felt true horror as she looked in the mirror. Her hair, her pretty hair, was all over the floor and the sink. Oh god, what had she done... her knees buckled, and she sank to the ground, scissors long abandoned on the counter as she cried and wiped at her face. Her eyes were sore, and her throat was raw. She wanted her dad, but he was not there. And someday, probably soon, he'd never be there again, and that thought just made her cry harder. Dez was an independent person generally. She didn't like being genuinely reliant on anyone, but right now, she'd throw her pride aside for some comfort. Her head shot up at the sound of the almost totally open door, creaking the rest of the way open and a startled gasp following it. Someone stood in the doorway, eyes wide, and God did that make her crumble even further. But this time, there were arms wrapping around her, pulling her close and nails, raking through what remained of her hair. She buried her face into their chest and just let herself cry. She cried and cried until she couldn't seem to muster any more tears.

"Dez..." Ed's quiet response came after a moment or two of prolonged silence. "Desiree, talk to me." he insisted when he got nothing but a sniffle in response, pulling her back by the shoulders to get a good look at her. He frowned a bit and brushed some hair off of her cheek. "I..." She choked out. "Oh god, what did I do... my hair..." She sniffled, trying not to cry again. "Hey, hey..." he hushed "Cmon tell me what's up." he reminded as he pulled her with him to rest against the sink cabnit. Still supporting her with an arm around the shoulder. "I... Dad is sick again." She whispered, and he seemed to understand almost immediately. "Yeah..he is..." he nodded solemly.

"I miss him.." She added, closing her eyes and resting against the strong weight beside her. "I know ya do... he misses ya, too." he reminded, and she couldn't help but smile sadly at that. "He's not coming home anytime soon... and this week was.. supposed to be our concert week." She struggled to get her words out with that feeling bubbling up in her throat again. The feeling that everything was falling apart, Edward just squeezed her shoulder in response. "Yeah Tiá was talking about that earlier this week... you guys go every year..."

"Yeah... and now we can't... " she choked harshly but pushed on. "I know it's dumb. I know he can't help it. It's not that big a deal it just.. it kinda made me realize that there's a good chance that we won't get to do a lot of stuff together, and I don't know... I just cracked, and now my hair is a mess, and I'm a mess.. everything's a mess..." She wiped at her eyes furiously as she spoke. "That's alright." He seemed to have decided. "It's okay to be a little bit of a mess sometimes..." And Dez briefly caught herself thinking about how Ed should probably take that sentiment to heart as well. "And I wouldn't say your hair is a mess..." he laughed a little, moving a bit to get a better look. "it's a bit choppy, yeah... but I don't think it looks bad on ya!" she seemed rather skeptical as she glanced up at the older boy. "Really?"

"Yeah! Just needs a bit of touch up, here..." he insisted, pulling her up and directing her to the mirror as he grabbed the scissors that had been discarded on the counter and immediately started cutting away. "Hey!" she tensed a bit, "Just trust me, Dez." he sighed with a roll of his eyes, and soon he set them back down. "See..?" she was a bit scared to look up at first but slowly she opened her eyes (which she hadn't really registered squeezing shut until now) and... he was right... it wasn't awful. "It'll take a little gettin used to, it is a big change." he hummed, fluffing her hair up a bit to check the length. "But I think you might end up liking it... and if you don't... it's just hair. It'll grow back."

She wasn't sure how to feel, standing there with a boy she'd for some reason expected to be mean when first meeting him.. it was a funny thought now. She stood there studying his work, his hands resting comfortingly on her shoulder... She didn't know how to feel, but another gentle squeeze cleared her mind. "Hey..." his voice was soft. "It'll be okay... I know it doesn't feel like it right now... everything's a bit hectic, and it's hard to see it, but... You'll be okay." And somehow, when Edward said it, it sounded a lot more believable. She couldn't help but feel better with the reminder that even when her Dad was gone. Ed would still be there... he was always there... whether she wanted or not... "Hey Eddie?" She whispered after another long pause. Ed had already gotten to cleaning up the mess she'd made. He seemed to do that a lot... "Yeah?" He hummed, not looking up from his task of sweeping up hair. "Would you wanna go to a concert this weekend?" He seemed a bit confused for a moment, but the confusion was short-lived, and he seemed to understand. He smiled fondly to himself and nodded.

"Yeah, I would."

Dez had a feeling that she'd be okay...

[startseeingstars]

Under the Needle - Clay Roach (City on a Hill)

CH03 🎶 I’ve Been Waiting - Lil Peep, Fall Out Boy 🎶

The tattoo parlour’s exterior was worn but striking, the faded neon sign buzzing faintly in the midday light. You stood just outside, taking a slow, steadying breath as the familiar hum of nerves crept through you. It wasn’t fear—more like anticipation, mixed with the lingering frustration of knowing this line of work often required proving yourself twice as hard just to be taken seriously.

Pushing open the heavy glass door, you were greeted by the chime of a bell overhead. The interior was dimly lit, the smell of disinfectant and ink mingling with the faint metallic tang of piercing equipment. Flash art covered the walls—everything from traditional pin-ups to intricate black-and-grey realism, all framed and slightly askew.

A few artists and clients glanced up briefly at your entrance, their disinterest evident as they turned back to their needles, sketches, and conversations. You walked purposefully to the counter, taking in the glass display case stocked with an assortment of body jewelry: hoops, studs, barbells—all gleaming under the fluorescent light.

Behind the counter stood a heavily tattooed man with sharp features and cropped black hair, his dark eyes fixed on you as you approached. His gaze was slow and deliberate, raking over you in a way that made your skin prickle, though you kept your expression neutral.

“Hey,” you said, keeping your tone steady but firm. “I’m looking for a chair to rent.”

His brow lifted slightly, and for a moment, he didn’t respond, just continued his silent assessment. You held his gaze, refusing to flinch or shrink under the weight of his scrutiny.

Finally, he leaned against the counter, the shift in his posture almost imperceptible. “Portfolio?” His voice was low, casual, but there was a hint of challenge beneath it.

“I’ve got one,” you said, keeping your tone measured. “I can bring it by.”

His lips twitched into a faint smile, though his eyes still carried a flicker of something calculating. “Might have a space for you,” he said after a pause, his hand extending toward you. “I’m Johnny.”

You hesitated for the briefest of moments before taking his hand, your grip firm and steady. “Myah.”

The handshake was quick but deliberate, and as you pulled back, you noticed the way his smile turned just slightly warmer—professional, but not entirely disarming.

“Bring it in tomorrow,” he said, his tone light now, almost casual. “We’ll see if you’ve got what we’re looking for.”

You nodded once, stepping back. “I will.”

Without another glance at the buzzing machines or the other curious eyes in the room, you turned and made your way toward the door. As the bell chimed overhead once more, you let out a quiet breath, already bracing yourself for tomorrow.

xxx 🎶 Whatever - Hundredth 🎶 xxx

Tears of frustration blurred your vision as your pencil skidded across the blank page. The salvaged pieces of your portfolio were spread across the desk, the jagged edges and water-stained paper serving as painful reminders of how much you’d lost in the move. You’d been sitting here for hours, hunched over the small desk in your living room, sketching furiously, trying to recapture what had been destroyed. The low hum of the TV offered white noise, but it barely drowned out the angry drum of your thoughts.

A sharp knock at the door broke your concentration, and you groaned, shoving the pencil down. Dragging yourself to the door, you swung it open to find Clay standing there, his posture casual and his expression unreadable—until he saw your face. His eyebrows pinched together as he looked you over.

“Jesus,” he muttered, his voice carrying a faint note of concern. “Who died?”

“My will to live,” you quipped, though your voice lacked its usual bite. After a moment of hesitation, you stepped aside, letting him in. “What do you want, Clay?”

“Figured you’d want a smoke,” he said with a shrug, his eyes scanning the mess of papers and pencils scattered across the floor and desk. “By the looks of it, you need one.”

“Clay, this really isn’t a great time,” you said, running a hand through your hair as you fought to keep the overwhelmed edge out of your voice.

He didn’t seem to care. “You won’t even know I’m here,” he said, already making himself comfortable on your couch. He turned up the TV slightly, leaning back with the ease of someone who’d been invited—though he hadn’t been.

You sighed, too tired to argue, and sank back into your chair. Picking up your pencil again, you mumbled, “Bored of your place or something?”

“Ma’s in a mood,” he said flatly, his eyes fixed on the TV.

You didn’t respond, letting his presence fade into the background as you tried to focus on the lines you were redrawing for the fifth time. Every so often, he would hold out the bong toward you, offering silently. Each time, you shook your head, brushing him off with a distracted wave of your hand.

But as the hours passed, you became aware of him—not in an intrusive way, but in a strange, grounding one. The quiet sound of his breathing, the subtle movement of his weight shifting on the couch—it all softened the sharp edges of your frustration. You’d never liked having people in your space, yet somehow, his lingering presence didn’t feel like an invasion.

Eventually, the pencil dropped from your fingers with a soft clatter. Clay must have noticed, because a moment later, he was standing over your shoulder.

“It’s good,” he said, his tone casual but not unkind.

You glanced up at him, trying to gauge his sincerity. “Thanks,” you muttered, though your voice carried a faint edge of doubt.

“You done yet?” he asked, his tone bordering on impatient.

You turned in your chair, raising an eyebrow at him. “Am I your entertainment now?”

He shrugged, already flopping back onto the couch. “Nah. Just saying you’ve been at it for hours. Surprised you’re still seeing straight enough to draw.”

The concern in his voice was subtle, but it caught you off guard. You hesitated, then joined him on the couch, letting your body sink into the cushions as you exhaled heavily. “I’m taking five,” you muttered, rubbing your temple.

He smirked, grabbing the bong and lighter. “Good. You’re overdue.”

When you reached for the lighter, your fingers cramped, and you winced, shaking your hand out.

“What?” he asked, looking at you with mild confusion.

“Hand cramp,” you said with a laugh.

“Alright, Princess,” he teased, “hand it over.” With an easy flick of his thumb, the lighter flared to life, and he lit the bowl for you. As you leaned in to take a deep inhale, you caught a flicker of something in his eyes—a mix of amusement and something softer, something you couldn’t quite name.

The smoke curled out from your lips, and you exhaled slowly, sinking deeper into the couch. “Talk about VIP treatment,” you said with a smirk.

“You’re lucky,” he replied, his voice playful but low. “Most people don’t get to experience my charm up close. Trust me, it’s a privilege.”

“Wow,” you said dryly, passing the bong back to him. “What would I do without this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity?”

He chuckled, leaning back into the cushions as the faint drone of the TV filled the silence. Minutes passed, the room growing quieter, the air hazier. You didn’t even feel your eyes close.

Clay didn’t notice right away when your head first tipped against his shoulder, lost in the haze of the movie playing on the TV and the dull hum of the buzz from the weed. But the moment he felt the weight of you settle against him, he stiffened, his body going tight like a coiled spring.

His first instinct was to move—to shrug you off, maybe mumble some sarcastic quip about personal space. But then you sighed softly in your sleep, the sound so unguarded and vulnerable it hit him like a sucker punch.

His eyes darted down to you, cautious, almost like he was afraid to fully acknowledge what was happening. Your face was relaxed, peaceful in a way he’d never seen before, and he realized how rarely you allowed yourself to let your guard down, even when you were awake. Like him. That thought twisted something in his chest, something he didn’t like to examine too closely.

Jesus Christ, what are you doing? he thought, his jaw tightening. This wasn’t him. He didn’t let people in—not like this, not ever. He’d spent his whole life perfecting the art of detachment, keeping everyone at arm’s length. It was safer that way. Cleaner. Easier.

And yet, here you were, curled into his side like it was the most natural thing in the world, and he couldn’t bring himself to move.

His gaze flickered back to the TV, pretending like the moment wasn’t unraveling him more than it should. He told himself it was just the weed messing with his head, making him soft. Or maybe it was the exhaustion—yeah, that had to be it.

Still, his heart thudded uncomfortably in his chest, louder than the movie, louder than the buzz in his ears. He hated how aware he was of you, the warmth of your body against his, the way your hair brushed against his arm. He hated it because it felt… good.

And that scared the shit out of him.

He shifted slightly, his muscles tense and unsure, but instead of pulling away, he adjusted just enough to keep you comfortable. The motion was so subtle you probably wouldn’t even notice if you woke up.

This doesn’t mean anything, he told himself firmly, clinging to the thought like a lifeline. It’s just… easier this way. Don’t wake her up, that’s all.

But as your breathing evened out, the steady rhythm of it lulling him into a strange kind of calm, he couldn’t deny the unfamiliar sense of protectiveness stirring in his chest.

Fuck.

Clay rubbed a hand over his face, trying to shake the feeling off, but it lingered, settling into his bones. He let out a soft, resigned sigh and leaned back against the couch, his shoulder still carefully supporting your weight.

He’d regret this later—he always did. But for now, he stayed.

xxx 🎶 Graveyard - Halsey 🎶 xxx

You didn’t know how long you’d been asleep when the dream gripped you. Shadows crawled through your subconscious, twisting into familiar faces - his. Will’s. His voice you tried so hard to remember while awake, was now taunting you effortlessly in your sleep. You felt rooted in place, suffocating, your screams trapped inside as panic clawed at your chest. You needed to find him, keep him there with you. Then suddenly, you were falling—falling endlessly into nothingness. Just like you imagined he was.

When the scream tore from your throat, you jolted awake, your lungs heaving as you bolted upright.

“Jesus Christ!” Clay’s voice came from beside you, sharp with alarm.

You blinked, disoriented, your pulse thundering in your ears as you tried to piece together where you were. Clay was off the couch, standing over you like he wasn’t sure whether to grab you or back away.

“What the hell was that?” His tone was blunt, but his wide, unguarded eyes betrayed his unease.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. Your chest heaved with shaky breaths as you buried your face in your hands.

Clay hesitated, glancing toward the door like he was ready to bolt, but something made him stay. “Hey,” he said gruffly, awkwardly lowering himself to crouch beside you. “You’re awake. Nothing’s… real or whatever.”

“Yeah.” Your voice cracked as you dropped your hands, trying to steady yourself. “Just a nightmare.”

Clay gave a short nod but didn’t move. His jaw was tight, the lines of his face sharper in the dim light. You could see the tension in his shoulders, his fingers tapping lightly against his knee. “Didn’t sound like ‘just a nightmare.’”

You shook your head, swallowing hard. “I’m fine,” you lied.

“Right.” His tone was dry, skeptical. He rose to his full height, pacing a couple of steps before turning back to face you. “You sure? ‘Cause you sounded like you were being murdered.”

The sarcasm was pure Clay—a sharp edge to mask the concern he didn’t know how to express. It might’ve annoyed you any other time, but right now, it was grounding.

“Sorry,” you muttered, voice low. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Don’t,” he said abruptly, cutting you off. “Don’t apologize for that.”

The weight of his words caught you off guard. You stared at him as he shifted on his feet, his gaze flicking anywhere but directly at you.

After a long pause, he scratched the back of his neck and let out a heavy breath. “Nightmares, huh?” His tone was more careful now, though he still sounded like he was forcing himself to care.

You nodded, still shaky. “All the time. They’re not usually this bad… maybe I should have smoked more.” You replied dryly, trying to brush off the discomfort - but Clay could see right through you.

“Yeah, well…” He trailed off, glancing at the clock on the wall before fixing you with a pointed look. “You need to get some sleep. Like, actual sleep. In your bed.”

You blinked at him, incredulous. “Yeah, because that’s gonna happen.”

“I’m serious.” His voice had an edge of authority, like he was daring you to argue. “You look like shit. You’re not gonna get anything done sitting out here like this.”

Your laugh came out bitter, and you gestured vaguely at the couch. “I’ll just stay here. It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.” He crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Go to bed. I’ll stay.”

“What?” You blinked at him, caught completely off guard.

Clay shifted uncomfortably, his jaw tightening as he avoided your eyes. “I’m not leavin’. You’re wound tighter than a goddamn clock, and I don’t feel like hearing you scream through the walls again. Just… go.”

The excuse was flimsy, but something about his tone stopped you from arguing. He didn’t sound like he was offering—it sounded like he’d already decided.

“Fine,” you muttered after a moment, standing unsteadily. You paused, glancing back at him. “You sure?”

Clay just shrugged, sinking back onto the couch like it wasn’t a big deal. “Yeah, whatever. Go before you pass out standing there.”

You hesitated, unsure what to say, then nodded.

As you disappeared into your room, Clay leaned back on the couch, exhaling sharply. “What the hell are you doing, Roach?” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair.

He wasn’t the guy who stuck around. He wasn’t the guy people leaned on. Hell, half the time, he could barely keep his own shit together. But when you screamed like that…

The sound of it stuck with him, cutting through his usual numbness. It had stirred something deep in his chest—a weird, uncomfortable mix of protectiveness and dread. He hated it. Hated that he cared, even just a little.

He stared at the ceiling, willing himself to let it go. You’d be fine. It wasn’t his problem.

But as he adjusted the cushion behind his head and settled in, he knew he wasn’t going anywhere. Not tonight.

[cricketnationrise]

Hello hello! Could I get 11:11, the white house, and June for your ficlet fest? Thank youuu ❤️

Of course! I went with a missing moment from canon from the line: "...giving him the same strange look she gave him over coffee the morning after Henry snuck into his room." Hope you enjoy! 💜

want your own ficlet? rules here.

❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙

white house, 11:11am

June wakes up the morning after the State Dinner a little hungover and supremely comfortable. It’s one part her bed, and one part Nora’s arm slung around her waist, pulling her close in the night. Nora had been almost manic last night after the dinner wrapped, loathe to go back to her apartment in Columbia Heights. June let herself be pulled into Nora’s energy and they’d stayed up way too late watching old episodes of Drag Race and talking about anything and everything. 

June would dearly love to close her eyes and go back to sleep, but the sun is falling right across her pillow and she really has to pee. She’s as careful as possible extricating herself from Nora’s hold, trying not to wake her, but Nora pulls tighter and grumbles something unintelligible yet undeniably (and adorably) pissed off into June’s neck.

“Sorry – gotta pee,” June says quietly.

Nora doesn’t open her eyes but does relax her hold – slightly. June slips free and makes her way to the bathroom. She feels more human when she’s done – less like the sludge found at the bottom of a protein shake – and washes her face for good measure. Back in her room, Nora is asleep again, curled up in the covers, clutching June’s pillow close. June can’t help but stare at her best friend looking so at home in June’s bed. There’s a thrill somewhere in the vicinity of her stomach, but June pushes it down. Tells herself firmly that it’s the hangover.

She needs coffee.

June leaves the room, closing the door quietly behind her, and heads to the Residence kitchen in search of the life-giving liquid. Unsurprisingly, Alex is there already. What is surprising is that he isn’t slumped over the island groaning in pain like a particularly dramatic and whiny table runner. Instead, he’s texting furiously – his cinnamon-scented coffee still full and obviously untouched beside him. 

Something about the sight is strange. Alex is always in motion, mind always racing to the next thing, the next step in the plan, always wanting to be doing. But right now, aside from his thumbs typing away, he’s still – not even a foot jiggling to disturb the aura of serenity. He looks cozy in sweats, his curly hair even more of a riot than they normally are in the mornings. If June had to guess, she’d say her brother looks settled, content to just be in a way she hasn’t seen him since before Ellen ran for President – before the divorce even. 

The smile tugging at his mouth throws her for the biggest loop, actually. It’s not his media smile – all teasing and straight teeth. It's not the smile he flashes to staffers and their own mother occasionally. She’s seen all-too-often since New Year’s – the I-have-to-grin-and-bear-it-because-I’ll-drown-otherwise one that makes June want to burn the world down for him. 

This smile is small, quiet even, almost as though he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. June hasn’t ever seen her brother smile like that – like he’s so fucking astonishingly pleased with his life he can’t contain it.

Alex eventually puts his phone down to stretch and catches sight of June in the doorway.

“Mornin’, Bug. Coffee’s fresh if you want.” He must have done more talking at the State Dinner than June had noticed – his voice is all raspy. June doesn’t move, still staring at how at home he looks in his own skin. It’s such a dramatic difference even from the night before where he’d literally been bouncing anxiously on his toes in the handshake line.

“June? You awake? You’re givin’ me a weird look.”

She shakes herself mentally, gives him a rueful smile. “Apparently not fully awake yet, Nora and I were up late talking after the dinner.”

“All the more reason for coffee then,” he teases. His phone buzzes again and Alex’s attention is redirected to it in the blink of an eye. Whatever the text is, it has Alex snorting in laughter and responding as quickly as he can. She leans against the counter and watches him over the lip of her own coffee cup. Something changed for him last night; something for the better.

“Oh hey,” Alex’s voice startles her out of her thoughts. “Eleven-eleven, make a wish, June.”

She smiles at him and closes her eyes, wishing hard that whatever is making her brother so happy lasts for a long time.

[angelplummie]

Okay so like for starterssssss, I love getting represented as a chubby gal 🥺🥺 so I love you for writing that last Oikawa imagineeeee 😩😩😩

Soooo, I was wondering if I could request a plus size reader that really likes Kuroo, (and he’s like a super cliché bad boy🤰🏽) but he’s too embarrassed to be seen with Y/n. So she starts to hit on his friend or try to make him jealous. (I want you to add your own little idea here! But likeee, make her a baddie 😘😘)

Thanks baby 😚

HE’S A SCUMBAG DON’T YOU KNOW

KUROO X CHUBBY F!READER

Angsty?? kinda, a pinch of suggestive stuff

masterlist

post girlboss was referring to

a/n:i decided to go for emo / anger issues / definitely has punched a hole in his wall kuroo, just cuz i love writing losers, and i love seeing grown men cry. reader is like 20/21 just like college age yk, kuroo is 23 as stated in fic. p.s where my artic monkey hoes at

warnings: swearing, mentions of sex n specific sexual acts, suggestive stuff, uhhh bad boy but he’s not a (bad boy) he’s just a (bad) (boy) he’s just no good, like no fr never date guys like this, he may SEEM COOL and give you the dick but girl you will be so embarrassed once u realised u gave up the kitty for a man that genuinely believes tame impala and mac demarco are unheard of and calls himself an empath even though he’s mean to his mum every time she comes over to help with the laundry and has manipulated every girl he’s ever been in the vicinity of but i digress! on with the story!

“Kuroo-!” you yelped in surprised, bed bouncing beneath you. The second he had thrown you down, he ripped off his shirt and made a noise of frustration when he couldn’t shed his skinny jeans fast enough. Brows furrowed, he began hopping furiously to yank them off.

You laughed, much to his annoyance.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep up with that. What’s the rush?”

He sighed, and carefully pulled them off his ankles. Standing up straight, he seemed to have composed himself, with that cocky smirk on his rugged face. Your eyes trailed down his lean, long body. It was all you could do not to scream, he was so gorgeous. He took a few sweeping steps to where you lay, and got right on top of you, hands either side of your head. His eyes bore into you, it made you squirm internally, not that you would ever admit it.

“Just want you so bad, kitten.”

You barked out a laugh as if your heart didn’t jolt at his stupid pet name. It was such a stupid name, but coming from him it made you melt. Again, not like you’d ever admit it.

“Ew, Tetsu don’t call me kitten, it’s cr-“

He cut you off by leaning down and kissing you, you could feel his snake bites against your bottom lip. He groaned softly, shoving his tongue down your throat. He tasted like his sour apple vape, and his hair was soft when you ran your fingers through it. You could barely contain your butterflies, eyes squeezed closed.

“Come on babe, you know you like it.”

No matter how many times you and Kuroo hung out, it always felt so fresh. Maybe it was because he was exciting, or because he was a little bit wild, you didn’t know.

He leaned down closer to you, getting on his elbows, deepening the kiss. He pulled away and smirked at your breathlessness. With a slender, ring adorned hand, he reached beneath your top and cupped your tits over your bra. He gave them a sharp squeeze and started placing chaste kisses on your neck. He was considerate like that, didn’t leave hickeys because he knew they’d be hard to cover for you. He groaned as he jiggled the fat of your boobs in his hands,

“God, you have the nicest tits, babe.”

You had been dating for nearly 3 months now, if that was what it was. To be honest, you weren’t really sure what you were. You hang out all the time at his or your place, there was rarely a time when you didn’t have an ache between your legs, one way or another. He didn’t really take you on ‘dates’ but chatting to him was fun in itself, you didn’t need to go out to do that. He didn’t necessarily say romantic stuff either... but he didn’t not say romantic stuff either? He beat up your ex at a party one time! That had to mean something right? He exactly wouldn’t tell you how he felt but he showed you, kissing your cheek or tilting your chin up to look at him or kissing your neck or feeling you up. But that usually led to sex, so you couldn’t be certain. It wasn’t like you only screwed though, you watched your favourite movies together... although the last couple times he just started fingering you. You showed him your playlists? No no, he showed you his playlists, his sex playlists. There seemed to be a common theme here. But... there were times, afterwards, when he would pull in you so tight, tell you how good you were for him, how well you did, how pretty you looked. Any doubts you had were gone after a few hushed words on his tobacco reeking rickety old bed. You’d never really had a relationship like this before, but you assumed it was just because Kuroo was so chill. You were probably boyfriend and girlfriend, he just didn’t feel the need to announce it, he was laidback like that. So what if you guys had a lot of sex? Weren’t you a new couple? Wasn’t this just the honeymoon stage were you can’t get your hands off each other? You didn’t want to seem high maintenance and nag, so you let it be. He was sweet enough to you, right now everything was good.

Until it wasn’t.

A clatter sounded downstairs, the door slamming open against the hallway wall.

“Kuroo! Hey man, I brought some California!”, a voice called from bellow.

Kuroo broke away immediately, spit trailing from your neck to his pink lips.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” Kuroo mumbled, pushing off the bed and scrambling the pick up his discarded clothes and shove them back on.

You sat up, disgruntled, rearranging your bra strap from were he’d kneaded at it.

“What’s wrong? Who is that?”

He shot you a glance before continuing to yank back on his jeans.

“Uh, so change of plan, I can’t do tonight. I need you to go home. Discreetly.”

What?

“What? Tetsu, I’m already here,” you scoffed.

What was going on?

Why was he acting like this?

You had never seen him so... frantic.

“I know babe, and I’m really sorry about that, but my friends are here early than I said.”

“So? Can’t I meet your friends?”

He didn’t reply for a moment, just let out an exasperated breath, zipping up his fly.

“Well, yeah you can meet them, just not with me. I don’t want them knowing that I-“

He cut himself off, but you had heard enough to understand.

There was a beat of silence, only disturbed by Kuroo’s friends calling for him.

Your mouth hung open, and you scoffed in shock.

You shouldn’t be surprised really. It’s so obvious now that you think about it. So that’s what this was. That explains everything. He didn’t really like you, he was just using you. That’s why he didn’t take you anywhere, or why he didn’t show you he cared. It was because he didn’t. He wasn’t “afraid of getting close to people” or “emotionally distant”, he was just upfront about not giving two shits about you aside from your vagina. I guess he didn’t want his friends to know he was furiously screwing a fat girl any chance he got. He was embarrassed of you. You were something to be ashamed of. Your stomach jerked as you got to your feet. You were pissed, but that didn’t mean it didn’t really hurt. You had liked him. A lot.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

You could see the panic in his eyes, it was quite funny actually. Of course you new what it meant, but it still made you feel a little better to watch his eyes widen like that, to hold a shred of power over him.

“I mean- well I didn’t- come on babe you know I didn’t mean it like that-“ he laughed nervously, not noticing the footsteps in the landing. You rolled your eyes. You may have been naive, but you certainly weren’t going to fall for his shit again. Whatever he spouted.

“Don’t give me that bullshit. Just say it, your embarrassed of me.”

“Y/N, please, don’t you think-“

Two men burst through the door, one with spiked grey hair and one with fluffy black hair.

“Kuroo! What the hell are you doing up here we’ve been-“ the grey haired one, stopped when his eyes went from a shirtless Kuroo to you.

Your eyes flickered to Kuroo, he looked mortified.

“Ah. I see. Well, Akaashi, we better give these two some time, we can just-“

“Oh no, I was just leaving,” you grabbed your jacket from on top of his chest of drawers and turned back to the two men, putting on a big smile, adrenaline and fury spurring you on.

“I’m Y/N, by the way.”

Your eyes shot to Kuroo, who looking like get was about to shit himself.

“You probably haven’t heard of me, me and Kuroo have actually been having sex for three months. He kept it a secret because he’s embarrassed of me. We should hang out soon though!”

“Y/N-!” Kuroo yelled, exasperation clear in his tone, but you were already descending the stairs.

He came into the hall, hands rubbing his temples.

“Y/N just come talk for a second, I can-“

But he was cut off by the door slamming.

You got in your car parked outside and sped away.

The whir of the engine and the monotony of the roads cleared your mind a bit, a mist of anger still remaining.

You can’t believe you let yourself be tricked. you were a fully grown woman, but you had been reeled in hook, line and sinker. Not only had you been reeled in, you have been reeled in by a man that still had tik tok LED lights in his room and a fucking monster can collection at the age of 24 fucking years old. The more you thought about him, the more you realised how much of an emo loser he was. Of course you were still hurting, but it was more of the angry hurt you feel when it turns out your crush is homophobic or something (been there done that, don’t ask). He was a waste of oxygen, you had decided by the time you made it back to your apartment. A waste of perfectly good space that could most definitely not get the kitty anymore. You got inside your house, pulled on some comfies and got on facetime with your friends.You told them all about what happened, and they passionately bitched about him with you, confirming your suspicion that they never liked him in the first place. They also told you to forget about his existence, he wasn’t worth a slither of your brain power, he was dirt compared to you. All in all, you felt marginally better, saying goodbye to your friends while they still giggled about how stupid Kuroo’s hair was.

This was just a speed bump, you thought as you tucked yourself into bed, you would get over this.

Fast.

“Who’s Bokuto been talking to all night?” Yamamoto leaned over to ask Lev, shouting over the blaring music.

It was a week after you had thrown Kuroo to the curb, and he was out with a couple of volleyball friends, some from Nekoma, but there was also Bokuto with them.

“I’m not sure. I think it’s Y/N something? She’s in class. She’s pretty chill.”

Kuroo’s ears perked up, and he turned around to face his friends up against the bar.

“Bokuto’s talking to who?” he said through gritted teeth.

“Y/N. She goes to my-“

“I know who Y/N is,” kuroo snapped, taking a swig of the beer in his hand and scanning the dance floor for either one of you. He found bokuto first, shoulder against the wall, holding a drink as he leant down to have you whisper something in his ear. That’s when Kuroo paid attention to you. You looked... you looked gorgeous. He felt jealousy creep up inside him. How many times had you been out looking like that since you broke things off? How many guys had you slept with since? How dare Bokuto chat you up when he knew you two had been a thing? Wasn’t he meant to be Kuroo’s friend? As Kuroo wound himself up, you and bokuto continued your extremely pleasant conversation.

“I just wanna say, sorry about Kuroo. He’s a real bonehead, but we’ve been friends since high school so I can’t ditch him.”

You snorted into your cocktail.

“What?”

“Bonehead?”

He frowned and straightened up indignantly.

“Yeah, and? What’s wrong with bonehead?”

“No no, nothing, it’s just very Legally Blonde.”

He beamed down at you.

“I love Legally Blonde!”

“You do? Me too!”

This big beefy man was very cute, you had been talking for nearly three hours now, but you never ran out of things to say. And, aside from the obligatory introduction compliments, he had not made any move to try and get you into a wendy’s bathroom as quick as possible, which you couldn’t say of yours and kuroo’s first meeting.

He had dreamy eyes, you noted as he smiled for the nth time that night.

“Whose your favourite-?”

“What the fuck are you doing man?”

You glanced scathingly over to the familiar face of your old fling.

“What?” Bokuto asked back, clearly done with his friends bad boy shtick.

“Why are you talking to her when... when you know?”

“What’s there to know? I’m talking to her because I want to, and she wants to.”

He looked over to you for approval.

“Right?”

You nodded, a little nervous. You hated Kuroo’s guts, but you knew how weirdly possessive he was, you didn’t wanna cause trouble for Bokuto.

“See? Now I don’t think she wants to see you, right?”

He looked at you again. You nodded again.

“Ok? You guys are over, now are we done?”

Kuroo huffed. His eyes flitted from Bokuto to you, remembering you were there most likely, and he scowled.

“No, we aren’t done, what are you trying to pull anyway? Trying to piss me off by talking to someone I know? Are you really that petty? Well, your little plan is working, so just-just stop, ok?”

You felt like screaming. You had just come out here to have a nice time, not listen to Kuroo’s narcissistic whining.

“Can you just fuck off? Was I not clear enough or something? You’re dead to me, Kuroo. I’m just trying to have a nice night.”

Kuroo’s mouth gaped open. He had never been spoken to like that, never. He clenched his fists at his sides and his glare intensified.

“You’re lucky I gave you the time of day, fat ugly slut.”

He grabbed Bokuto’s shoulder roughly, turning him to face him completely.

“Hey man, thanks for clearing up my sloppy seconds, really good of you. Good to know I’ve got great friends like you.”

Those were the last things out of Kuroo’s mouth before bokuto landed a punch on his cheek, knocking him to the ground.

“You’re a fucking asshole man,” Bokuto grunted.

He stepped over where Kuroo lay, and held out a hand for you to step over too. You took it quietly and trailed along behind him to the door, fingers still locked. His hands were warm, and big. Kuroo’s face must hurt right now. The thought made you smile. He held the door open for you before sighing, resting his back against the wall. You stood in front of him, twiddling with your fingers.

“I am so sorry about that,” You apologised, embarrassed and shaken by the scene Kuroo had made, “I shouldn’t have wound him up, and I shouldn’t have talked to you after I knew you guys were friends, I promise I didn’t mean to start anything.”

“Don’t be, if anything I’m sorry for not making him leave right away. And either way,” he gently reached for your hand again, and you let him take it,”I’m glad you talked to me. I’d like it if you talked to me even more.”

DISCLAIMER FOR KUROO STANS!!!! I DONT THINK HIS HAIR IS STUPID!!! it’s just when ur bestie is going thru a break up or anything entailing a male you shit talk everything about him to high hell, doesn’t matter if he’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. also i have no ill will towards kuroo nor any of the characters i write shit bag fan fics about i just like to complain any way i hope you enjoyed! reblogs and replies always appreciated!!!

[starryhyuck]

thin walls. (m)

pairing: softdom!jaemin x sub!reader

words: 1.8k+

summary: you try your best to keep quiet since you know jaemin’s room is right next to yours. turns out you’re not as quiet as you think.

genre: fluff, smut

warnings: dom!jaemin, bestfriend!jaemin, roommate!jaemin, oral sex, daddy kink, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie

“Isn’t it weird?”

“Is what weird?”

You’re having your weekly video call with Donghyuck and Renjun, the latter actually paying attention to your conversation while the former furiously clicks away on his keyboard.

“We’ve been quarantining for almost a year now. You haven’t gotten any dick in months and your roommate is like the hottest guy we know,” Renjun clarifies, raising an eyebrow. You both ignore the sound of Donghyuck grumbling loudly as he loses another game.

You roll your eyes. “And you’re so concerned about my sex life because?”

“Because clearly, neither me or Donghyuck have one. I’m living vicariously through you.”

That gets Donghyuck’s attention. “For your information, I am supporting many lovely women through OnlyFans. It’s only Renjun that has difficulties with sexual partners.”

Renjun scoffs. “I could have anyone on their knees for me, and we all know it.”

There’s a knock on your door and you take an earbud out when Jaemin pops his head in. He looks like a mess — his hair springing up in different places and eyes puffy. You frown at his disheveled state.

“Hey, are you still busy?”

Your fingers move at the speed of lightning, barely registering Renjun’s protest when you quickly leave the meeting. You toss your laptop and earbuds aside to give your best friend your full attention.

He chuckles and scratches the back of his neck. “If you’re busy, I can come back later.”

“Nope, not busy anymore. Are you okay, Jaem?”

He fully enters the room and shuts the door behind him. He smiles softly at you as he takes a seat on your bed.

“Not feeling too great. Just wanted to see you.”

You ignore the swell in your chest at his confession, worriedly stroking his cheek when you realize how red his eyes are. His hand comes up to play with your fingers, eyes moving in and out of focus.

“What’s wrong?” You finally ask.

He shrugs. “Didn’t do so well on my test today. Feeling a little hopeless.”

Your frown grows deeper. You move closer to him, wanting to soothe his pain.

“Don’t say that. It’s just one test, you’ll do better on the next one. I’ll help you! We can make flash cards and create some trivia games to help you remember.”

He chuckles, eyes still staring down at your connected hands.

“You always know what to say. How is that?”

You giggle. “I earned the title of your best friend for a reason.”

“I suppose you did.” His eyes move upwards to lock on you. “Can I stay here? Just for tonight.”

You freeze. You haven’t slept next to Jaemin in months, the two of you only doing so when you were really drunk or really sad. You don’t even remember what it’s like to fall asleep in your best friend’s arms.

“Sure.”

And you two fall into a quiet rhythm, Jaemin’s arms circling around you as he brings your back to his chest. Your eyes flutter shut, focusing on his steady breaths as you try to fall asleep.

You’re startled when you suddenly feel a pair of lips ghost over your neck, pressing a small kiss to your collarbone.

“J-Jaem?”

He hums in response, not showing any signs of stopping while he continues to pepper kisses on your shoulder.

“Jaem, w-what are you d-doing?”

“I heard you last night.”

You pause. You try to register what he’s saying, which you find is incredibly hard to do when his tongue darts out, licking a stripe up your neck. You backtrack to last night, when you were feeling so drowsy but struggled to get to sleep. You don’t remember much, except for the fact that you reached to your nightstand to grab your vibrator-

Oh. Oh fuck.

“Y-You heard that?”

He hums again, moving to suck your neck with vigor. When he finally parts from his masterpiece, he chuckles.

“How could I not? The walls aren’t exactly thin, you know. I hear everything — all your silly commentary when you rewatch your favorite dramas, your weekly conversations with Renjun and Donghyuck, the pretty little noises you make when you turn your vibrator on, and the unmistakable sound of porn you watch when you’re really aroused.”

You feel more than embarrassed, stuttering as you try to offer an explanation. Jaemin chuckles against your ear, biting softly down on the lobe. A whimper tumbles out of your mouth before you realize it.

“I couldn’t sleep last night after listening to you. You made me fail my test, baby.”

“I’m s-sorry.”

“If you’re really sorry, you’ll let me eat you out.”

You swear your heart stops. “W-What?”

“I’m hungry. You wouldn’t want me to go to bed on an empty stomach, would you?”

“U-Um, no.”

Before you know it, you’re on your back with Jaemin between your legs. His fingers thumb over the fabric of your pajama shorts and he looks up at you, his eyes glimmering with a question.

You nod. “It’s okay, Jaem.”

With your permission, he slides your shorts down your legs and throws them haphazardly across the room. His gaze darkens at the sight of your lacy panties, which you honestly wore unintentionally today. You’re glad you picked them this morning though, because Jaemin looked like he was about to go insane at the sight.

“You’re so fucking perfect.”

And then his tongue licks a stripe up your clothed core and you yelp. He’s almost predatory, shoving your underwear aside and diving into your sopping pussy. You moan when his tongue furiously licks your folds, curling in on yourself while he holds you down.

“Jaemin!”

He parts from you briefly and raises an eyebrow. “I think you have another name to call me.”

You’re confused yet again. “W-What?”

He snickers. “Forgot already? I listened to all those dirty videos you were watching, baby. I know all your cute little kinks. Now, I know you have a different name to address me as.”

“J-Jaemin, I-“

He clicks his tongue. “That’s not right.”

You gather all the courage you have inside of you, ignoring the clear embarrassment on your face by the fact that Jaemin has discovered all of your secret fantasies.

“Daddy, please eat me out.”

He smiles mischievously. “Good girl.”

You have no time to dwell on your self-consciousness before he’s sinking a finger inside of you, tongue lapping at your clit. You feel like a dog in heat, warmth spreading throughout your body as you struggle to comprehend the fact that your best friend is currently eating you out like his life depends on it.

“D-Daddy, daddy!” You scream when he slips another finger inside, curling them upwards while he sucks on your clit furiously. “I’m gonna- I’m gonna-“

You cry out when your orgasm sweeps over you in waves, thrashing and whimpering under Jaemin’s hold. He uses his other hand to hold your hips down when the oversensitivity crashes into you, desperately trying to push away from him.

“D-Daddy, no, I-I’m sensitive-“

Jaemin growls and holds you tighter, fingers still drilling into your pussy and mouth wrapped around your sensitive bud. You don’t have time to warn him when your second orgasm comes just as quickly as the first, convulsing around him. You try to gain a sense of strength to push him away before he can launch you into a third, and Jaemin gets the message as he parts from you.

His chin glimmers with evidence of your arousal, fingers slipping into his mouth while he tastes the remnants of your two orgasms.

He pounces on you, lips crashing into yours and you moan. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and the fact shoots another spike of arousal to your core.

“What else did they do in that video, baby?” He whispers breathily. “Tell me.”

Your brain is a little fuzzy as you try to remember.

“H-He fucked the girl until she was crying and she took it. Anything to please her d-daddy.”

He smirks. “Is that what I should do to you? Fuck you until you’re crying? Will you do anything to please me?”

You know you trusted Jaemin with your life, so you nod.

“Anything for you, daddy.”

He grins. He quickly pulls down his sweatpants and his cock springs up, already half hard. You gulp at his size, and you’re suddenly reminded of why Renjun calls Jaemin the hottest guy you know. Jaemin’s girth wasn’t exactly a secret in your friend group, many rumors spreading around after Donghyuck discovered how well endowed your roommate actually was.

His fingers grip his base, slowly pumping himself while keeping his eyes locked on you.

“Like what you see, baby? Do you think your pussy is ready to take daddy’s fat cock?”

“Y-Yes, d-daddy. I c-can take your c-cock.”

He chuckles at your response, brushing strands of hair away from your face to fully look at you. His look is almost endearing, and you would swoon any other day if he wasn’t about to fuck you.

He lines himself up to your entrance, pausing for a second.

“Do I need to get a condom?”

You shake your head. “I’m on birth control. We’re fine.”

He doesn’t hesitate any longer, pushing into you slowly. You whine at the stretch. You haven’t been taken like this in months, and your vibrator is no match for his huge cock. He coaxes you through the pain, whispering softly in your ear and kissing your neck again to help ease you up.

Once he bottoms out, he waits patiently for your go ahead before moving. You can tell it’s killing him on the inside, brows pushed together as he tries his best not to pound you deep into the mattress.

“P-Please, daddy.”

Jaemin builds a steady pace inside of you, groaning and grunting into your ear as he sinks deeper and deeper. Your mind draws a blank when you struggle to form any coherent words, babbling while he impales you with his cock.

“You’re such a good girl for me. Always so good. Been waiting for this forever, baby. Dreamed so long of having you underneath me like this.”

“Daddy,” you gasp at his unexpected confession, hissing lowly when his fingers circle around your clit. Tears spring up in your eyes from the pleasure.

“Especially all those mornings when you were wearing practically nothing in front of me, you don’t even know how many times I wanted to take you on the kitchen counter.”

You cry when his cock hits you harder and faster.

“But you’re so good for me now, aren’t you, baby? So pretty and perfect for her daddy.”

“Y-Yes, daddy,” you whimper. “I’m all yours. All good for daddy.”

Jaemin groans loudly. “Cum for me, baby. Cum for daddy.”

Your orgasm is blinding, your nails digging into his shoulders as you ride out your high. He follows shortly after you, grunting when he shoots his cum deep inside your waiting womb.

You both lay in silence before you suddenly burst out in laughter. Jaemin eyes you.

“What?”

“We just fucked. I just fucked my best friend and called him daddy. This is so surreal.”

He chuckles, leaning down to press a kiss against your lips.

“Better get used to it. Who knows how long we’ll be stuck in quarantine together.”

You smile. “Doesn’t sound so bad to me.”

[spicysoftsweet]

the devil is a fornicator, incubus!sukuna x reader

summary: sukuna, a well-known incubus is quite fond of you.

warnings: home invasion, noncon, double penetration, size kink ig, degradation, monster form! sukuna

a/n: there is no plot here just porn lmao. enjoy.

It’s the dead of night and the incubus has returned, you realize once you’ve awoken in a shock of blinding pain, only to gaze directly into the demon’s endless eyes hovering over you, illuminated dimly by the pale moonlight that streams through your thin curtains.

He grins, revealing rows of gleaming sharp teeth.

“Did you miss me?”

His voice is a snarl that drips heavily in sarcasm, seemingly echoing in the silence of the room.

Tonight, much like every other night, you’re not sure how you ended up caged in two sets of arms stronger than wrought iron, your mind steeped in a deep, impenetrable fog and your body languid and stretched to the limit as you’re all but impaled over a monstrously sized pair of cocks. But it’s a matter of course - the demon Sukuna has picked you and continues to choose you again and again.

There’s more than one reason he’s called the King of Curses.

Aside from the fact that he has claimed you only because you are eternally damned, expletives fall out of his mouth as naturally as rain drops from the sky; harsh, caustic is the feel of his rough hands on your skin, if you can really call them something as human as hands.

“You’re pathetic, really, sniveling all because of a little pain?”

Even though his voice is light and jeering, you’re not meant to answer and you don’t dare to. All you can do is whimper, and your soft, miserable sobs delight him.

“You should be thankful I’ve become somewhat partial to a weak, worthless little thing like you.”

The palm that presses down on your neck, making it hard for you to draw air into your lungs, is so heavy - heavier than the weight of his body that carelessly crushes your fragile one.

Even if he is holding most of his weight, you are still so tiny, so small in comparison to his huge figure. He’s massive, truly, but you’re not exactly sure how large he is...  he visits you under the cover of dark, and you swear the size of his shadow varies each time. 

But the configuration of his form is always the same, and he makes good use of his supernatural anatomy - a hand presses on your neck, another grasps relentlessly at your hair and tugs mercilessly, and two more are placed oppressively on your hips, gripping tightly enough to leave blotchy discoloration on your skin. A tongue that protrudes from somewhere within the dense muscles of his abdomen laps furiously at your bare skin, now covered in a thin layer of sweat from the heat he generates. The rough, wet strokes only worsen your sensitivity but you barely shudder because he holds you so still that you have no agency to move.

But where could you go?

You want to explode.

“It hurts, doesn’t it? Being splayed out like this?” His head lowers so that he can whisper directly into your ear, as he continues to pet your scalp. His fingers curl around your neck, and you gasp involuntarily; you can practically feel the way his lips curl into a smile, his cheek is so close to yours.

Of course it hurts. It hurts so bad, it hurts so good, your heart hurts, your pussy aches.

“I’m too big, aren’t I? You can’t take me in that tight little cunt of yours, can you?” 

It’s true - you shouldn’t be able to take him. In fact, you’re amazed that he manages to fit despite everything, however painfully so, and if your head were a bit clearer, you’d wonder if it’s a bit of magic that keeps you from splitting in half so that he can have his fun night after night. It does help that you’re dripping wet, seeping around him enough that you can feel the unmistakable moist sensation between your legs that is your arousal, more slippery than perspiration.

“What would you do if I got bigger inside you? Will I tear you apart, little one?”

Please have mercy.

Tears are streaming down your cheeks and your body is quivering, and if it weren’t for the fact that he has you pinned down, unable to move an inch, your whole body would be convulsing. You are too full, too tender, too stimulated and he’s barely even moving yet, aside from the occasional tortuous twitch of one of the penises inside you. It’s torture, the way your body clenches desperately around him, pleading for some friction. The rise and fall of your chest as you pant in a strained, almost wheezing cacophony - you don’t dare whine, you’ll take whatever he offers you - seems to delight him, and his hand releases around your neck. He thumbs instead at your quivering lower lip, his own lips pressing onto your neck.

It’s almost a mockery of tenderness, the pecks he gives the curve of your jaw as he jams two fingers now down your throat making you gag. 

He loves to hear you choke, and he sinks his hands into the futon so that he can grasp handfuls of your ass and lift up.

Once he adjusts himself so that he is kneeling onto the bed and your hips are hoisted off the ground, he pushes deeper inside you and you cry out around his fingers in your mouth.

But once he starts moving, you are too stimulated to cry. 

Sukuna fucks you loudly, lewdly, animalistic groans and foul language filling the air as he thrusts in and out of you like you’re nothing but a mere cocksleeve, ignoring whatever screams and moans come out of your mouth. You move so quickly, slammed almost perpendicularly against his pelvis, hard, that your thoughts go from fogged up to scrambled until you’re dizzy and wordless, sniveling, forgetting how to form the words to beg him to stop.

Do you want him to stop? Being fucked dumb maybe the only good part of this curse after all. 

He plays with your pert nipples as he slams you down onto his cocks; he shifts you upright briefly, sitting with his legs crossed to minimize his own effort as he pistons you up and down forcefully onto his lap.

Too many eyes focus in on the grotesque, fucked-out expression you make, your tongue lolling out helplessly and your breasts bouncing recklessly as he moves you.

“You almost look half-decent like this...” he teases, a pleased smirk gracing his hideous smirk. Again, he has to steady you, bringing your arms behind you and holding you taut so that you don’t collapse onto him,  you are nothing but a brainless toy, after all. By this point of the night, he can’t expect you to keep your posture. He’s not that cruel.

“You’re no different than a little lamb. Innocent, cute, powerless. I could swallow you whole.”

You let out a drawn out moan from an orgasm that springs forth from so deep inside you that it reverberates throughout your whole body and he laughs. In fact, he cackles wildly as you jerk violently forward, your shoulders almost risking dislocation as you move due to the fact that your wrists are still firmly in his grasp. 

“Aren’t you going to beg me to stop? Or are you just going to keep cumming like the dirty little cursed slut you are?”

You know he won’t stop. Not for hours. Not until he eventually releases hot, sticky, endless ropes of cum inside you until you pass out, until the next morning where you wake up in a cold sweat after repetitive nightmares of giving birth to hellspawn.

His two upper hands cup your face that is exhausted, weary, miserable, and dazed from fucking that will go on endlessly and for as long as he feels like it. Sucking away all your vital energy. Ruining your soul. Wrecking your body. 

His fingers caress your skin, even if he’s still pounding relentlessly into you and you’re only a few more strokes away from another gut-wrenching climax.

Sukuna kisses you passionately and you don’t think, because if there is anything you know for a fact, it’s that the devil is a liar and tonight’s lie is that you’re anything more than a hapless human he likes to fuck.

[shorkbrian]

How about some barbarian bakugo noncon?

Prelude - One time I came home from a walk and smelled this scent so freaking thick that I could taste it, and I almost threw up cause it smelled like skinning a deer but like, ten times worse?? and I was like lol that’s kinda weird and it turns out the neighbor had caught a skunk in a catch-and-release trap (which we gave him cause we didn’t want him catching a skunk in a trap that’d kill it) and apparently decided to kill it right then and there, and just let it by the edge of his property, right by my car. That was fun. 

Anyways, Katsuki makes a big deal about reader looking different in this. You can take that any way you’d like. Personally, I was feeling insecure about my freckles (I have so many that my skin almost looks even-toned because they almost all touch rip) and my hair color/odd face so I wrote him liking that reader looked different. It’s not super deep lol

Pairing - Bakugou Katsuki X Reader X slight Izuku Midoriya

Warnings - NSFW, dubcon, noncon, voyerisum, exhibistionism, blood mention lol. Idk groping?

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/4FeWr4OsidcJClBjUEBHWI?si=OPHwLWXrTsiNQ42SlMKLEg

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There is a point where you stop screaming.

A point when you realize that no one is coming to save you, that you’re wasting your breath, that it’s fruitless. Does nothing more than raw your throat and grate against your own ears.

It’s no use. The Barbarian King seems unaffected, perhaps even spurred on by your ear-splitting screams. There’s no reason to scream anymore - it’d be impossible to scream forever.

——

Village in flames, corpses littering the streets. You’d heard about the stench of death from books, from traveling warriors who stop in your village for a night, regaling the people with tales of heroics and strength. It smelled quite different from what you had imagined though.

Metallic, yes, but tangy, thick enough for you to taste the iron seeping into the ground. Raw, like the scent of the butcher’s shop, heavy and suffocating - you hadn’t been able to breathe.

Everything had happened so fast, too fast. People were dead, people were dying, people were killing and being killed. You had been running, trying to escape the stifling aroma of your village being drained, the barbarians running amok through the streets leeching out it’s lifeblood.

Then you had been falling, tripped up by a loose limb on the ground, a body still warm and rattling with it’s last breaths. Shocked by the vivid image of the gore underneath you, a man reaching for his severed arm, you hadn’t been able to catch yourself as you fell, a cry leaving your lips.

Darkness.

And then light as you slowly blinked to awareness, slumped on the ground. A line of prisoners, prizes from the raid. You were one of them, hands bound to your neck, ankles tied to the people on either side of you. Two men had come by after a while, a green haired man in dress similar to your own - perhaps a captured man from the village?

The other man was bare chested, as many of the barbarians were, gold and red paint swirled across his skin in intricate, sharp patterns. He looked fearsome, and he barked at the green haired man accompanying him who scribbled furiously onto paper at each utterance of the fearsome blonde man.

They seemed to be going down the lengthy line of prisoners, assigning them? Selecting them for something? You didn’t know, couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You were numb, sealed off from the horrific event you had just experienced, safe within your cocoon of forced apathy.

And then the two men were in front of you, the blonde man silent as he stared you down, the green haired man with his pen poised, though he studied you also.

But they quickly moved on, the barbarian barking something at his companion, before striding to the next prisoner.

You had been untied from your fellow captives, led through the barbarian camp. Red tents, warm fires and laughter filled the space, bare-chested warriors of both genders celebrating their recent victory.

The large red tent you had been led to was warm, a fire crackling in the deep pit in the center, silky furs softening the harshness of the ground. There was a table in front of the fire, a large basin filled with water nearby, close to the fire. A desk in the corner, near the tent flap, and a folding screen hiding the back of the tent from view.

Promptly tied to the leg of a table, you were left alone, the woman who had dragged you here leaving before you could ask what was happening.

Shortly, green hair popped through the tent flap, quickly followed by the rest of the man from earlier, the one dressed like your people.

“Izuku Midoriya!” He had introduced himself, giving a little flourish as he bowed, before being pushed aside as the fearsome blonde from before entered the tent.

Still tied to the leg of the table, numb to the world, you merely stared at the ground when the two men approached.

“What’s your name?” The green haired man - Izuku - asked.

He was met with a blank stare.

The blonde man growled at your lack of answer, spitting something in his native tongue, words you didn’t understand. Izuku seemed to shrink, before turning to address you again.

“Please tell us your name. Kacchan is not the most patient man.”

The fearsome man beside him bared his teeth towards you, and you shrank back. He did not seem the type of person who tolerated being left waiting.

“(Y/N)….” You whispered, eyes falling to the ground.

“(Y/N), ah! Such an interesting name, the first part means-“ Izuku was cut off from his ramble with a shove from the blond man - Kacchan - who crouched down in front of you, rolling your name around his tongue.

Turning, he spoke to Izuku in the same jumbled language, who listened, then addressed you as Kacchan turned back to study you again.

“Kacchan would like to know uhm, uuh.....” Izuku trailed off, uncertain eyes flickering between you and the blonde.

Kacchan scoffed, listening to Izuku’s hesitancy with disdain, saying something directed at the younger man, yet Kacchan’s eyes were fixed on you the entire time. It was intimidating.

“He uh, wants to know ifyou’reavirgin.”

Oh god.

Even though the man’s words were rushed, you understood, limbs beginning to shake. You were going to be violated.

A finger poking your calf made you jump, the blonde man leering at you, head cocked to the side, eyebrow raised as if to say “Well?”

You shook your head - lovers had existed in your life, not many, but you still cherished each one deeply, thought back on the experiences you shared fondly.

When relayed this information, the blonde man seemed to grin even wider, rising to his feet. “This will be easier then, no need to go slow.”

With a gasp, you lifted your gaze, wide eyes taking in the man hovering above you. His words were completely forgotten as you took in the shock of understanding his words. He spoke your tongue? Wasn’t he using an interpreter? Why-?

The confusion must be apparent on your face, because Kacchan scoffed, turning to stride to the table, taking a seat facing the fire.

“It pays to play dumb.”

“Loose lipped locals give information more freely when they assume that Kacchan can’t understand them.” Izuku beamed, crouching down in the Barbarian’s previous place to begin untying the rope binding your hands and feet to the table leg.

“Stand up for me please.”

You did as Izuku asked, shakily rising to your feet with a helping hand from Izuku on your arm. He began leading you towards the basin nearby, Kacchan watching the two of you with sharp eyes.

“Do you need help with the fastenings?” Giving Izuku a confused look, your eyes fell to the basin, to the fire, to Kacchan seated at the table. Were they going…. Were they going to boil you alive? Eat you?

Trembling even harder now, it was only Izuku’s surprisingly strong grip on your arm that kept you upright, knees giving out beneath you.

“Help her out, she’s damn near useless.” Kacchan’s strong voice cut through the air, the air that seemed too thick, the air that was choking you, throat closing up.

What does one even do in this situation? Do you beg for your life? Scream for help? Who would come? Accept your inevitable fate?

There was no time to make a decision, however, because Izuku’s nimble fingers were pulling at the fastening of your dress, quickly unlacing it.

You were numb again, fingers leaden, legs heavy, mind fuzzy and listless. Izuku peeled down the top of your dress, and you barely thought to cover yourself - you’d be dead in minutes anyways, what did it matter?

Still, your hands rose to your breasts, shielding them from view involuntarily. Kacchan snorted from his sweat, but said nothing.

When you were completely bare, an arm over your chest, a hand over your sex, Izuku ushered you towards the basin, prompting you to step into it.

This was it, you were going to die.

One last shot of fear raced up your spine, and you turned to the green haired man by your side, his hand falling away from the small of your back. “Please, please don’t kill me, I don’t know what I did but please spare my life. Please, I’m sorry.”  Tears were burning your vision, throat choked up with thickness.

Kacchan burst into laughter. “I’m not gonna kill you, the fuck?! Goddamn, your people call us barbarians yet you’re afraid of a bath, fucking hypocrites.” There was a mirthful glint in his eyes when you looked at him, the man leaning back in his chair, arms resting behind his head as he relaxed.

Izuku chuckled also, putting his hand on your lower back again, gently pushing you towards the basin. “You’ll be okay, it’s just some warm water. It’s close to the fire because we don’t want you to catch a chill. You know, the human body actually operates best when it’s within the temperatures of-“

“Deku, shut your trap before I come kick your ass, just get the girl into the water, you dumb fuck.”

The water was warm, and it felt pleasant against your skin, just on the right side of too warm, hot enough to have you relaxing your shoulders as you sank down lower, the liquid covering you up to your neck.

Izuku-Deku? Held your hair out of the way, quickly using a scoop to wet down the strands before rubbing some kind of herbal scrub through your scalp, cleaning out the dirt and debris that had gathered during the raid. You were certain you were absolutely filthy, covered in mud and small scraps, half of your side crusted with dried blood and muck from falling in the bloody street.

For a moment, you felt embarrassed at your earlier panic, silly and like a stupid child, thinking that they were going to boil and eat you. It was clear now what their intent had been, but riddled with fear your thoughts had been clouded and slow.

Fear was still present, rolling through your brain in waves, goosebumps rising from your flesh as you tried to hypothesize what was going to happen to you. From their earlier questioning, you had a faint idea, but you couldn’t bear to think about that outcome, didn’t know if you could tolerate it.

Instead, you let the warm water soothe your body, washing away the grime and dust. Izuku’s hands were gentle in your hair, as he massaged your scalp, as he rinsed out the soap. You tried to ignore how his breath hitched whenever you shifted - you couldn’t keep all of your body covered, no matter how you positioned yourself.

His hands disappeared from your hair, instead prompting your to sit up straight so he could scrub at your body with a cloth smelling of the herbal soap.

It felt weird, and goosebumps arose on your skin as strange hands touched your body. You closed your eyes and endured, for there was nothing else that could be done.

Running would be a bad idea - a naked woman sprinting through the barbarian camp would surely be caught and violated, or brought back to this tent for some twisted punishment. And you could only run if you managed to get past the two men, who ere watching you like hawks, and much, much stronger than you.

Izuku’s hands paused briefly at your chest, eyes flickering over to the blonde man, who nodded in permission. Then Izuku’s hand were running the cloth across your breasts, washing them in gentle circular motions, taking care to not scrub too hard or push too deep.

You bit your tongue as you waited for it to be over.

And it was soon, at least that part. Then the green haired man was instructing you up on your knees, facing him. Telling you to grab onto his shoulder (the man was also kneeling) and spread your legs apart.

Trembling limbs obeyed, face flushing bright red as you followed his commands, eyes squeezing shut so you wouldn’t have to look at his own flushed face.

He ran the cloth down your back, over your ass, then slipped it between your legs to wash your sex with easy swipes of the cloth. The man’s breathing picked up subtly, and you could tell, leaning up against him as you were. His hands wandered, the cloth moving slower and slower upon your cunt, almost stroking at your folds, his fingers pressing through the cloth.

“Oi, Deku! Keep your shitty hands to yourself, you’re supposed to be washing her up, not feeling her up, shitbrain.” Kacchan barked, slamming his fist down against the table to get Izuku’s attention.

Both you and the man in front of you jumped, Izuku immediately blushing the deepest red you’d ever seen, flashing the blonde an apologetic look and you a nervous smile, before he seemed to gather himself, continuing to dutifully cleanse your nether regions.

It was awkward for the both of you, feeling his hands run over your private areas, over your sex, through your ass cheeks. But then he was down, rinsing you off with scoops of warm water before fetching a large towel, ushering you out of the basin, holding out the towel to wrap around your body when you stepped out.

Then you were ushered closer to the fire, sat upon a small stool as you huddled close to the warmth, clutching the towel tightly around you. The air was quite warmer than outside, but was still cold to your wet skin.

Izuku began running his fingers through your hair, parting knots, patting sections dry with a corner of the towel. By the time he was finished, you felt warm again, face rosy from the heat of the fire.

The heat felt pleasant, like the feeling of a full belly after a long day.

You were tired, exhausted from the emotional weight you had endured. Village burned, tripping over corpses and disembodied limbs, taken captive, forced away from your fellow villagers.  Stripped down and fondled - at this point, you just wanted to sleep.

To sleep and sleep, wake up and have this all be a bad dream. Some twisted nightmare your mind conjured up while in the warmth and safety of your own home.

A large hand upon your shoulder roused you from your half-asleep state, lulled by the warmth of the fire and the quietness of the tent. You jumped, turning to find Kacchan towering over you and Izuku both.

Kacchan crouched, his hand sliding from your shoulder to your hair, then onto your cheek. “You look so fuckin’ weird.”

Izuku sputtered. “Oh my god, what he means to say, is that we’ve never seen anyone like you before. You’re… quite unique, and very um, attractive.”

You leaned away from the hand on your cheek, and Kacchan let you, red eyes blinking slowly as they scanned your features.  He was an odd man, as was Izuku. There was an obvious dynamic of power, Izuku submitting to Kacchan willingly.

“Alright, you’re dry enough, get up.” You blinked at Kacchan, processing his words, before he huffed out a breath, rising to his own feet. “C’mon, let’s go, are you stupid? Get the fuck up.”

You scrambled to your feet, towel still wrapped tightly around your body, preserving your modesty.

Kacchan’s hand shot out, gripping the back of your neck, pulling you along with him as he strode towards the back of the tent, towards the sectioned screen acting as a wall.

“Deku, make your ass useful and dump out the bathwater, will ya?”

You weren’t able to see Izuku move due to the hand forcing your head forward, but you could hear his footsteps as he hurried to do what Kacchan instructed.

Rounding the screen, it was clear to see that this was where the Barbarian King slept, a pile of cozy-looking furs strewn in a pile on the ground.

You were promptly shoved towards them, stumbling down to your knees as you lost your balance. The furs provided cushion though, soft and inviting.

But you were scared again.

It was happening, it was going to happen, you were going to raped by the King.

Turning back towards the man, you began to plead, hands securing the towel around your shoulders like a safety blanket. “Sir, please, don’t do this, why me? You can have anyone, not me, please not me.”

He ignored you in favor of beginning to strip, unfastening his cloak, removing his weapons. You decided to try and appeal using a more personal approach.

“Kacchan-“

Suddenly the man was in your face, his own visage twisted into a growl.

“Don’t you ever fucking call me that. Stupid ass Deku made that shit up when we were kids, I’m not some brat anymore. I’m Katsuki-“ He backed away from you, leaving you trembling. “-Barbarian King.”

The man resumed removing his clothes, dropping his belt to the ground, grumbling as he began to undo his pants. “Should beat his fuckin’ ass for calling me that, so goddamn disrespectful. Fuck him, stupid little ass wipe twerp-“

You tuned him out, frozen. What could you do? Another impasse where your options were none.

A strong hand gripped your shoulder, or more accurately, your towel, tugging it forcefully away from you.

“No!” You cried, trying to pull it back, to cover yourself, but the man was stronger, ripping it away before you could utter another word.

“No! Stop, please!” You tried again, finally taking in Kacc-Katsuki before you. He was naked now, aside from the paint decorating his skin. His cock was quickly hardening, plumping up with each step he took towards you as you scrambled backwards.

“Katsuk-Katsuki, I’m begging you, please don’t do this. I’ll do anything! Please just have someone else!” You sobbed, back finally meeting the wall of the tent.

Katsuki smirked, crouching down just out of your reach. “You’ll do anything? You’ll let my horde use you as a toy then?”

Dread flowed through your already fear-filled body, and you gulped thickly, eyes closing.

“No?”

Shaking your head, you started to cry silently, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“You’re already doing fucking anything.” Katsuki growled, hand shooting out to grab your ankle, dragging you down and towards him.

A high-pitched cry left you as he pulled you under him, until he was hovering over you, grinning. “Cry all you want, ain’t gonna change a damn thing. In fact-“ He surged down, until his forehead touched your own, red eyes blazing “-It just turns me on more.”

The man pulled away, a hand falling heavily around your throat, giving a compulsory squeeze before hie started moving his hand downwards, fingers skimming across your flesh.

Immediately, your own hands caught his own, trying to still their journey as they neared your breasts. Katsuki paused, a sound akin to a growl falling from his throat as his eyes flickered away from your body and up to your own eyes.

There was a threat there, a warning. Let him touch, or else. Trembling, you removed your hands, instead grabbing at the furs you rested upon. Katsuki made a gruff sound of approval, before resuming his exploration of your body.

“You’re like nothing I’vs ever seen before, know that? Like some fuckin’ alien or something, but damn, you’re gorgeous. Didn’t even know someone could look like this.” He mused, entranced as he watched his hands splay over your body, pinching at your skin, caressing your breasts, slipping over your stomach and down between your legs.

“Oh god, pleaseee-“ You sobbed out, cringing as a finger trailed down your slit.

Katsuki stilled, quirking a brow as he smiled meanly. “Please what? You wanna cum?”

“Please stop…” You whispered, eyes clenching shut again as he found your clit, giving it a few quick rubs.

The man scoffed, before quickly teasing one of his fingers into your tight hole. “Tough shit, I’ve never had whatever the fuck you are, I ain’t stopping”

His finger burned, dry and too large, and you struggled to keep from clenching down upon it in discomfort, trying to force out the intrusion. This would go easier if you relaxed, if you let him have his way. You knew that, rationally, but it was hard to make you body obey.

Katsuki prepped you quickly, fingering you open until he deemed you ready, withdrawing his fingers and crudely wiping them off upon your thigh. You twitched away at the wetness, at your own slick being cleaned off  on your skin, but Katsuki ignored you.

“Why do you look like this anyway? What the fuck happened?” Katsuki asked coarsely, shuffling off of your thighs, moving to lounge by your side, studying you.

The man seemed to be taking a break, more interested in your looks than fucking you, but you were glad for the reprieve, trying to wipe tears from your face as you struggled to think of a response.

“I-I don’t know?” You finally spoke, genuinely at a loss for how to explain your appearance.

Katsuki studied you with sharp eyes, a hand reaching down to his cock, beginning to absent-mildly pump himself while he looked you over.

“I’ve traveled through every shitty little village in the north, met with the damn piss-baby tribes of the east, I’ve ransacked the towns of spoiled nobles, and I’ve never seen anyone who looks like you.”

You sat up, subtly shuffling away from the Barbarian King while you shrugged, at a loss.

Your appearance wasn’t anything superiorly unusual, but apparently it piqued Katsuki’s interest. Yes, your skin was perhaps a bit different, but it’s not like you were inhuman.

Katuski seemed to get tired of talking though, settling further back into the furs, getting himself comfortable as he jerked himself off. You refused to look between his legs.

“Alright, whatever. Get up here.”

Pausing, you looked at him incredulously. Did he mean on his lap? His chest? You didn’t want to be anywhere near him - wouldn’t he find more pleasure with someone who was willing?

“Are you fucking deaf? C’mon, up.” He growled, patting his thigh, urging you over.

A gulp before you started moving, limbs heavy and hesitant, unwilling as you slowly crawled forward, towards the intimidating, impatient blonde.

You straddled his thighs unsteadily, swinging your leg over, trying to avoid touching his cock.

Unfortunately, despite your best efforts, you caught sight of it, the red tip, the precum making his length shine, the wrinkly, darker skin of his balls, his blond pubes.

You cringed, distaste evident upon your face, and you heard Katsuki chuckle darkly before his hands grabbed your hips, dragging you forward.

“What, don’t fucking like what you see? Am I not to your taste? I’ve fucked whorebag princesses less fussy than you. Get over yourself.” He spat, before taking a hand off your hip, reaching underneath you to line himself up as his other hand kept you lifted.

You trembled in his hold, twitching and swaying to the side, but this was unavoidable.

A gasp left your lips as he entered you, tip slipping through your folds, teasing into your wet hole, stretching you out.

Katsuki let out a groan, slowly dropping you down until he could remove his hand from his cock, returning it to your hip, guiding you to push further down. You felt disgusting, his cock sliding against your velvety insides, dirtying your walls with leaking precum.

When your sit bones rested against his upper thighs, his cock resting fully inside you, it felt impossible to breathe, your chest rising to draw in air but failing, the distress you felt upon being speared open seemingly too much for your body to handle.

“Fucking hell, you’re so tight. You got a dirty little cunt, don’t you? Feels fucking amazing.” Katsuki groaned, moving his hips minutely, relishing the grip your inside had on his cock, how warm you were around him.

“Ride me, will you? I’m getting bored down here.” He snapped after a moment, delivering a harsh slap to your rear to emphasize his words, spurring you into tentative action.

Problem is, you didn’t want to.

Your palms rested against his heated chest, eyes raising to the ceiling as your cheeks burned. This was embarrassing, you couldn’t do this. You couldn’t be an active participant in your violation. What would that make you?

“Oi, princess - I don’t got all night.“ Katsuki growled, landing a significantly more-jarring hit to rear, hard enough to make you squeak and jump, hips twitching at the sensation of his cock moving around your pussy at the movement.

Afraid of more forceful repercussions, you started to move, slowly sliding up, then down, creeping along, hoping it’d be enough to satisfy the man.

It wasn’t.

Katsuki grumbled something under his breath, before tightening his hold on your hips, planting his feet in the furs, then plunging into you with force. The sudden movement jostled you, and you fell forward with a cry, head bouncing onto Katsuki’s chest by your hands, the man groaning as he found a satisfactory rhythm.

“There we go, that’s fuckin’ nice.”

You cried into his chest, hands clutched into fists as you were bounced up and down, the led slap of skin too loud and jarring in the tent. The paint on Katsuki’s body was beginning to smear, sweat dampening his skin and letting the paint drip onto the ground, transfer to your own skin.

It was starting to feel good, make your stomach tighten, limbs tremble with pleasure instead of fear, and you hated it.

Slick sounds reached your ears, out of rhythm with Katsuki’s quick prods. It was wet, pulsing, as if someone-

Gasping breaths reached your ears, not from the man grunting beneath you.

Another round of cold fear dampened your arousal as you honed in on the sound, realizing it was coming from the other side of the screen.

Someone was on the other side of the screen, listening in to the Barbarian King taking you against your will.

A stuttered cry left you when Katsuki pushed too hard, hitting your sweet spot, making you clench and shudder, forgetting about the other person for a second.

But they were so loud, little gasps and moans, and the shlick, shlick, shlick, was getting faster and faster, it was impossible to ignore.

Should you try to tell Katsuki? Would he stop? Would he be mad? It was so disturbing, knowing someone was sitting on the other side of the screen,  jerking themselves off so obviously .

“Katsuki-Katsuki wait, oh-“ You started, quickly cut off by a series of battering thrusts against your sweet spot.

But you had to try again. “Wait, sto-o-op, wa-unh, unh, Katsuki pl-mmh!”

“Shut up, I don’t fucking care.” The man snapped, out of breath.

“But there’s-oh…. Katsuki there’s someo-“

“I don’t /fucking care/.” Katsuki reiterated, gritting his teeth. He shut you up with another perfectly placed push against your sweet spot, and a cruel spank against your already-stinging ass.

“Ow!” You yelped, clenching up.  It was clear now, that Katsuki was aware of the listener, he just didn’t mind. Maybe he got off on it, knowing someone was listening to him take apart his latest conquest.

Clenching up was the wrong response, because the Barbarian King swore, before his hips sped up, bouncing you so violently on his lap that you found it hard to breath, barely able to hang on for the ride.

“Oh…. (Y/N)….” The voice behind the screen moaned lowly, almost whispering.

It was Izuku.

You shivered, at the sound, feeling creeped out with the knowledge that the gentle, timid “interpreter” was listening. He must have returned at some point from dumping out the basin. You were feeling revolted by this entire situation, disgusted with Katsuki, Izuku, and most importantly with yourself.

Pleasure was building quickly in your stomach, zapping up into your chest, making you tingle and shake with the sensations assaulting your body.

“Sit back, fucking sit back-“ Katsuki panted, pushing at one of your shoulders to push you up, so he could see you as he fucked up into you, watch your body move, your face contorting in pleasure.

You felt like you couldn’t help it, your eyes closing, mouth falling open to let out girlish, high-pitched moans.

Your breasts were being jostled, jiggling up and down with the movement of your body, and it hurt. Hands moved to hold them, stopping their bouncing, but Katsuki appreciated the view apparently, because he groaned, pushing his head back while still trying to watch you.

“Fuck, that’s so hot. Keep touching yourself princess, keep moaning like a little slut. Let Deku know how fucking good I’m making you feel.”

Your body didn’t give you a choice, noises being pushed from your throat involuntarily as Katsuki pounded into you, red eyes trained on your frame, intense and unwavering.

An orgasm ripped through you, seemingly out of nowhere despite the steady buildup of it the past few minutes. You gasped, breathing catching in your throat, hips furiously grinding down against Katsuki’s as you rode it out, trying to stimulate your clit to intensify the feeling.

The noises leaving you were perverted; wet gasps, little squeaks and long moans as you fucked yourself onto Katsuki’s cock, previous hesitance forgotten in preference of chasing your pleasure.

Katsuki swore underneath you again, rabbiting his hips up into you in response, breathing raggedly as he neared his own release.

You were so lost in feeling the sensations in your own body, you didn’t register the stuttered groans on the other side of the screen, the speedy clicking of Izuku jerking himself through his own orgasm, the almost-silent spatter of his cum hitting the screen.

Katsuki swore once more, a vehement “Shit, shit!” before he pulled out quickly, orgasm apparently catching him by surprise, the first few warm strings of cum shooting into your warm cunt, adding to the wet mess of your own orgasm.

The rest was aimed onto the puffy lips of your slit, one of Katsuki’s hands leaving your hips to pump his cock as he gasped, hips twitching upward at the sudden temperature change from your burning heat to the air of the tent.

Then there was just the sound of three people breathing heavily, completely spent, sweaty and dirtied from sex.

Katsuki pulled you down onto his chest, chuckling breathlessly as he brought his clean hand to your head, ruffling your hair tiredly.

“Well, you’re a goddamn catch, pussy’s like a fuckin’ vice.” The crude comment made your cheeks color, but as exhausted as you were, you couldn’t find the energy to offer a rebuttal.

“I think you’re gonna stick around for a while.” Katsuki mused, and you felt your heart drop. “Yeah, you’re a keeper. Maybe if fuckface over there-“ The blond slapped at the screen “-can stop being a pervert, we could actually fuck without feeling creeped out.”  He growled, although the blonde didn’t sound irritated in the least.

A small “Sorry Kacchan” was whispered from the other side of the screen, and Katsuki laughed dryly.

“Tell you what bastard, maybe I’ll let you touch her a bit.” Katsuki said, a hand creeping down to knead at your ass. “Then you don’t have to act like a little freak. Who knows, maybe I’ll even let you fuck her if you do good translating those maps we found. Got it, you little shitnugget?”

“Mm, alright Kacchan.” Came the tired response.

You were barely awake, already drifting off on Katsuki’s warm chest, too preoccupied with the red and gold paint no doubt smearing against your cheek than with the conversation going on around you.

You could panic about that later.

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Chapter 4: Unexpected (Bonding)

Prev

AO3

Bruce Wayne felt lost. This wasn’t an unusual feeling for him, but he wasn’t particularly fond of the events that led to him feeling lost. First, he found out he had a daughter. Yet another child that he hadn’t known of their existence. Then, he acted as Batman. He researched the girl and found that her school situation was...less than ideal. As was the supervillain situation in Paris. The girl- his daughter- had been targeted several times. Sometimes the Akuma went after her from the start. Other times, she was unfortunate enough to be in its line of sight when it was on a rampage. Any way you looked at it, she was in danger. No, the biggest mistake in researching her came with the phone number for the bakery run by her parents. Two lovely people who had raised her and taught her right from wrong. Something he hadn’t done. Their phone call was what left him feeling lost. They hadn’t demanded that he stay away from his daughter- from Marinette. No, on the contrary, they thought it was a great idea for the two to bond. Especially once Bruce had mentioned his other children. 

“Marinette was distraught when the only information we could give her about her birth father was his name.” Sabine had said, adding to Bruce’s confusion. 

“You had my name but didn’t reach out?” Bruce asked, trying (and failing) to figure out the situation. 

“We didn’t have much to go on. Just your name and that you were American and worked in business. Bridgette didn’t give any specifics, and back then it didn’t really matter. I assumed Bruce Wayne was a common enough name, especially in the US.” Sabine replied simply. The rest of their conversation had gone similarly, with Bruce growing more and more lost until the end. They hadn’t even suggested a DNA test (though he was planning on asking Marinette, just so that they could be completely certain). They just wanted Marinette happy. Even if it meant meeting and bonding with the man who hadn’t known about her existence. 

---

Marinette Dupain Cheng was not having an easy week. No, her week was sucky. In fact it was beyond sucky, it was shitty. So many things were happening at the same time, and she was just grateful that she wasn’t currently in Paris, since she was certain she’d be akumatized. From being attacked by the Joker for simply looking like a Wayne, to meeting Batman who was just as angry in person, and then figuring out Bruce Wayne really was her dad and accidentally calling him Batman, to fighting an Akuma by herself (one that she could barely handle) and then to top it all off, Adrien is Chat Noir. And Adrien has a crush on her, as Marinette. And apparently has for at least a month. Oh and now he knows that she’s Ladybug and so last night was filled with her Chat Blanc nightmares all over again. The cherry on the top of this mess was the fact that the class was practically ignoring her. She was sure they weren’t doing it intentionally and that they were just kinda distracted by Lila’s tall tales of Gotham. Tales that include her dating one of Bruce Wayne’s sons. She wouldn’t clarify which one, which was probably for the best. They two closest to their age were 12 and 19. Neither a great option for the 15 year old Italian. A shrill ringing tugs Marinette out of her thoughts. Glancing down at the unknown number attempting to call her, Marinette silently prayed that this would turn her shitty week around. 

“Hello?” She answers, wincing slightly at the way her voice sounds after a night filled with screaming and crying from nightmares. 

“Is this Marinette Dupain Cheng?” A deep voice asks. Marinette frowns. 

“Um, yes?”

“Good. This is Bruce Wayne and well, I’m not sure how to-”

“You’re my dad.” She blurts out, face instantly heating up. “Oh crap, I mean, um-”

“Well yes. I do believe I may be your father. I was in contact with your parents earlier, to ask about boundaries and such. Your mother says that you had shown interest in meeting me and seeing how we’re similar?” He says, the question clear in his voice. Marinette opens her mouth to respond, then frowns. 

“Just like that? We’re gonna meet, just like that?” She asks, hoping that her distrustful tone doesn’t push the man away. 

“I’ll admit that I was going to ask if you would mind a paternity test. After speaking with your mother, I have no doubts, but I thought it might make you feel better. And of course, if you would prefer to just act as though I didn’t speak to your parents and go on with your trip, we can do that as well. I just- I was caught off guard, if I’m being honest.” Bruce Wayne- her father- says. 

“I’ll do it. I- I would like to get to know you. I can’t have a relationship with Bridgette, but if my parents are okay with it, I do want a relationship with you.” Marinette admits, holding her breath as she waits for an answer. There’s silence on the other end for a long moment, but just as Marinette’s about to apologize and tell him he can go and pretend she doesn’t exist, he answers. His voice a little softer this time. 

“I would like that.” 

---

The paternity test came out positive, to no one’s surprise. Bruce had given Marinette the option of meeting somewhere more public (like a restaurant or museum) to bond, or coming over to the manor. Not quite ready to deal with the possibility of paparazzi and the rumors (no matter how true they may be) that would stem from a public visit, Marinette agreed to going to the manor for dinner. Which is how she ended up sitting in silence in a town car with a man who seemed like he knew more than he was letting on. 

“So, you’re the one who raised Mr. Wayne?” Marinette asks, not quite ready to call the man “Dad” or any variation of the word. The man nods and she meets his eyes in the rearview mirror. 

“Indeed, Miss. I am Alfred Pennyworth.” The man, Monsieur Pennyworth, says calmly. She tries not to let the frustration that she feels building show on her face. She feels like she should know this man, like there’s something important that she’s just barely missing. 

“Have we met before?” Marinette finally asks, racking her brain as she tries to figure out why this man is so familiar to her. 

“I don’t believe so, Miss Dupain Cheng.” He says, and for the first time since meeting him, it doesn’t feel like he’s all knowing. Instead, it feels like he’s just as confused as she is. Drat. She opens her mouth to question him more, when the huge manor becomes visible in the distance. Eyes widening, Marinette forgets everything else and turns her attention to the beautiful architecture. The giant fence and metal gates do little to hide the massive house. Sections of the house rise above others, almost as if there are towers. Dozens of windows are visible, as is the giant fountain at the front of the house. Ripping her sketchbook out of her bag, Marinette immediately starts sketching out the ideas that attack her mind. Dresses and suits and skirts, all using the architecture in front of her for the basic shapes of the outfits. As the car goes past the gate and the gardens come into view, Marinette can’t hold back her shocked gasp. Shaped hedges and flowers, hundreds of different colored flowers, and trees and- it was beautiful. Almost too perfect. Like something that belonged in a movie. She jumps slightly as the car door is opened, Alfred standing on the other side with an eyebrow quirked up. Right. She was actually getting out of the car. And going into this massive house. And spending time with her biological- nope. She can’t do this. She can’t- 

“Miss Dupain Cheng, if it makes you feel any better, Master Bruce seems to have run into some traffic on his way back from the office. You’ll have a few minutes to gather your bearings inside before he arrives.” Alfred says softly. Relief washes over her and she nods, finally moving to get out of the car. 

“Thank you, Alfred.” She says, smiling at the man. He nods back at her before leading her up the steps to the door. He opens it and then steps back, allowing her to take a tentative step into the house. Her previous panic is pushed aside as she realizes the inside is just as gorgeous as the outside. Immediately turning back to her sketchbook, she tunes out the world around her and just stands in the foyer, scribbling furiously into her sketchbook. 

“Um, hi?” A voice says, making Marinette yelp and jump, eyes scanning her surroundings until they fall on a guy. A pretty tall guy. 

“Hi.” She says softly, also confused as to who this guy was. Not her- dad-biological father-other part of her DNA-father-Mr. Wayne- not anyone she had ever met, that’s for sure. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Dick Grayson.” The man says, extending his hand, a smile on his face. Anyone else probably would have thought the smile was sincere, but Marinette had always been good at reading emotions. And she could tell that he was wary of her. Why would he- oh. Grayson. As in, Richard Grayson, as in this man was her brother. Or, well, maybe he wouldn’t want to be. Maybe he would think that she’s ridiculous or that she’s just here to get money or here to try and pull apart Mr. Wayne’s family or maybe he would think that she was trying to take his place and she would never but maybe he would hate her and- She takes in a deep breath, trying desperately to ground herself and wishing she’d taken up Adrien’s earlier offer of him coming with. 

“I’m Marinette. Marinette Dupain Cheng.” She finally says, reaching out and shaking his hand. He nods, obviously still confused. So Mr. Wayne hadn’t mentioned her. Did he hate her? Did he ask her here to have her sign a NDA? Did he not want anything to do with her? Of course he wouldn’t, he obviously already had a family. A family that he chose, not one that he had by accident. His name was on her birth certificate, surely he would have found her sooner if he actually wanted anything to do with her? He chose Dick Grayson to be his son. He wanted him. He didn’t want Marinette. He-

“Ah, Marinette. I see you’ve met Dick.” The last voice she needed to hear says calmly as he walks through the door. Marinette swallows back the thickness in her throat, the one that tells her the tears will be starting soon. 

“Uh, yes. Mr. Wayne. Um, hi.” She says, flinching slightly when he winces. What did she do wrong this time? Was he really going to tell her to take a hike? If he didn’t hate her before, he surely did now. 

“Bruce, what’s going-” Dick starts to ask but is cut off by screaming voices getting closer to them.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Demon Spawn?” 

“Not my fault your blocking skills are subpar, Todd.”

“Sub- you almost stabbed me, you little shit!”

“Almost, yes. But I didn’t. I’m sure Father will be pleased with my restraint.” 

“You little fu-” “Boys!” Mr. Wayne finally yells as the two screaming walk into view. Both freeze and the younger one’s eyes instantly fall on Marinette, narrowing as he takes a defensive position. 

“Another one, Bruce, really?” The older one asks, making Marinette flinch back. Of course. Two more of his sons-her brothers- who he chose. Another two that he wanted. Not like her, someone he was going to be forced to know. Unless he told her tonight that he never wanted to speak to her again and made her sign a paper saying that she would never contact him again and then they would never have to worry about seeing her again and- oh this is a lot. 

“What were you two doing?” Mr. Wayne finally asks, and that’s when Marinette sees the weapons in their hands. And the blood on the older man’s shirt. The man turns slightly so that that part of his shirt is hidden when he notices her staring. 

“Uh, bonding?” He says, not at all convincing. 

“Who is that, Father?” The younger boy asks, the utter distaste clear on both his face and in his tone. And this is it. This is where he’s going to say that she’s no one, she’s nothing, and then he’s going to make her sign that stupid piece of paper and the last chance she has at knowing one of her biological parents is going to fly out the window. Poof. And then she’ll be so embarrassed, she won’t be able to go back on the trip and then she’ll have to change her name but she can’t completely run away yet because of stupid Hawkmoth and-

“This is Marinette, my daughter.” Well that was unexpected.

Next

Tag List: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @jayjayspixiepop @jjmjjktth @mizzy-pop @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @waiting247 @laurcad123 @toodaloo-kangaroo

[storiesforallfandoms]

stuck with you ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 2102

request?: yes!

“Ooh how about an enemies to lovers fic where Colson and the reader get stuck in an elevator together please”

description: it’s hard to keep up a petty beef when you’re stuck in an elevator with your supposed sworn enemy

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing, claustrophobia, panic attack

masterlist (one, two)

I don’t even know how the fight between Colson and I ever started, but I knew it was extremely prevalent even though we were forced to go on tour together.

The first big gig my band and I had ever gotten was to go on a massive tour with a bunch of other popular and legendary alt rock acts. It was sort of like Warped Tour, but under a different name. We were touring with the likes of All Time Low, Sleeping With Sirens, Pierce the Veil, etc. We were relatively unknown, so to be given this opportunity was such a big deal for all of us.

My feud with Colson had started before that. Again, I have no idea how it started. I don’t know Colson even knew. All we knew was that we hated one another, or rather we thought that we did. So when the full line up for the tour was announced, and none other than Machine Gun Kelly was on the list, I instantly regretted my decision.

“You won’t even be in contact with him,” my drummer told me after we found out the lineup. “It’s a massive tour, we have our own bus, and the likeliness that you’ll run into him in the hotel or even backstage is so small.”

“You also need to get over this stupid fight,” my bassist added. “You guys barley know one another, how can you be in a feud?”

“That’s the thing, he barley knows me and he’s ragged on me in interviews. Do you realize how much that could effect the reputation of the band?”

“You won’t even run into him,” my drummer repeated. “Just remember that.”

Well, I wish he was right, because I happened to run into Colson on our first night.

The four of us were staying in one hotel room, and in true fashion of a band on their first big tour, we bought enough alcohol to make sure we wouldn’t remember anything the next morning. I offered to go grab ice from the floor above us so we could keep everything cold, and decided taking the elevator was the best idea. The minute the doors opened, I wished I had taken the stairs.

Colson raised an eyebrow at me, glancing down at the ice bucket in my hand.

“I didn’t realize the house keeping went to get ice for the rooms,” he said.

“That wasn’t even clever. You’re starting to fall off Colson,” I said. “I’ll just take the stairs.”

“The floor is literally just one up, it won’t kill us to be in an elevator together for five seconds.”

I glared at him as I realized he was right. I let out an exaggerated sigh and stepped into the elevator, making sure to put a lot of distance between the two of us. Colson hit the button for the next floor up and the elevator doors closed.

It didn’t move.

I looked over at Colson in confusion, wondering if he was also feeling what I was. The look on his face mirrored mine, which was enough to answer my question.

He hit the floor button again, although it was already lit up. Nothing happened. He hit it again, and again, then furiously started jabbing it repeatedly.

“Stop, that’s obviously not doing anything,” I said to him.

“What else am I supposed to do?” he asked.

“I don’t know, see if the doors will open?”

He pressed the button to make the doors open, but again there was nothing. He started jabbing that one too, which resulted in me snapping at him to stop again. He opened his mouth to retort, but before he could the elevator jolted suddenly and a loud alarm rang out.

“Oh fuck,” Colson breathed. “Must be stuck.”

“Wait like...like we’re stuck in here?” I asked.

“That’s what stuck means, yes.”

I felt panic starting to rise in me. I dropped the ice bucket and started clawing at the doors, hoping to somehow pull them open. Colson put a hand on my shoulder and pulled me away.

“Hey, that’s not gonna work!” he said. “For one, you’re literally the size of a toothpick, and two, if the elevator is stuck we can’t open the doors. We’ll just have to press the help button and wait for something to happen.”

My breathing became heavier and I started to hyperventilate. I pressed my back against the back of the elevator and slid down till I was sat on the floor. I brought my knees up to my chest and hugged them tightly. I closed my eyes and tried to come down from my panic attack before it even started, but I knew it was no use. The feeling of the confined space in the elevator was baring down on me, I needed to get out of there somehow.

Colson knelt next to me and put a hand on my arm. I looked up at him but I was having a hard time focusing because of how violently I was shaking. Through my somewhat blurry vision though I could see a concerned look on his face.

“Hey,” he said, this time softer than before, “look at me. Are you claustrophobic?”

I felt like I couldn’t speak, so I just nodded instead. Colson’s eyes widened and he quickly turned back to the help button. He started jabbing at it the way he had the other buttons earlier. I was panicking too much to really care at this point. I felt like I was going to throw up, which made it lucky that the ice bucket was right next to me I guess.

“I don’t know if anyone can hear us,” Colson called, “but we’re fucking stuck in an elevator and one of us is having a panic attack! Someone get us the fuck out of here!”

I buried my head in my knees, trying to calm myself down. I tried to imagine that I wasn’t stuck in an elevator, that I was back in my hotel room with my bandmates. Unfortunately I was too far into my panic attack to calm myself down that way. My only hope was getting out of the elevator.

Colson came to sit next to me. I could feel his body close and, even though we were constantly fighting, there was just something comforting about knowing he was there with me. We sat in silence for a little bit, besides the sounds of my hyperventilating. I felt Colson’s arm move next to me, then a gentle tap on my arm. When I raised my head he was holding his phone out to me, showing me a picture of a young girl.

“That’s my daughter,” he told me. “Her name is Casie. She’s my entire world.”

“She’s beautiful,” I said, my voice very shaky.

“I don’t know what I’d do without her,” he said. “Whenever I’m having a bad mental health day, or I’m having an anxiety attack, I just think about the next time I’ll be able to see her and it helps me to calm down.”

“I didn’t even know you had a daughter,” I admitted.

“We don’t know a lot about each other.”

I nodded. “I know, I say that all the time.”

He smirked at me. “You talk about me, huh?”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course I do. We hate each other, so naturally I have to talk shit about you all the time.”

His face softened then, which shocked me a little. I had never seen him look so...well...just nice. When I wasn’t looking at him through a haze of anger from our stupid feud, he really did look...handsome.

“I don’t hate you,” he said.

“What? Of course you do. You always say shit about me, you even mentioned me in one of your songs recently in a negative way.”

“Yeah, cause I thought you hated me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

And in that moment I realized that I really didn’t. My dislike towards Colson was purely under the idea that he hated me too. I thought that was the way I was supposed to feel towards him, not the way I actually felt.

“Wait,” I said, uncurling myself from the ball I was in. “Are you telling me we’ve been fighting and having this stupid feud...and we don’t even hate each other?”

Colson awkwardly chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I guess that’s exactly what happened.”

I tried to laugh too, but the elevator suddenly jolted again, which immediately brought back my panicked state. Colson wrapped his arms around me and held me against his chest, running his fingers through my hair and trying to calm me back down. Surprisingly, it worked at least a little bit.

“I’ve had a crush on you for a while, actually,” Colson admitted. When I looked up at him, even he seemed shocked by this. “I always thought you were beautiful and I wanted to get to meet you in person. But when all this fighting started, I tried to push those feelings aside and pretend like they never existed, but they’ve always been there. I think that’s why I’ve said some extra harsh things towards you, just to try and make myself believe that I really didn’t like you.”

The silence in the elevator was deafening. I pulled away from Colson to look up at him. He averted his gaze to his lap, refusing to look at me at all. I could see red creeping up his neck, embarrassment rising within him no doubt.

I had a brief moment of courage build within me, and I decided to act on it. I cupped Colson’s face in my hands and forced him to look up at me. Before I could lose my courage, I pressed my lips against his.

He hesitated at first, like he couldn’t believe this was happening, but it didn’t take him long to melt into the kiss. His hands found their way to my hips, holding them gently as our kiss became deeper and more passionate. With little effort, he lifted me from the floor onto his lap so that I was straddling him. I ran my hands through his messy blonde hair, curling my fingers into the stands at the back of his head and pulling slightly. The noise I earned from this was definitely a moan, although Colson was adamant that it wasn’t.

Before we could go much further, the elevator suddenly rattled back to life and started moving. When the doors opened again, I nearly sobbed with relief. The two of us quickly untangled from one another and stumbled out into the hallway. The air felt so fresh and my chest, which I hadn’t even realized was so tight, felt like it was opening again.

“Thank fuck,” I breathed. “I’m taking the fucking stairs.”

Colson chuckled. “Can I walk you down to your floor?”

“Aren’t you upstairs?”

“Yeah, like two floors above you I think. But I’d like to spend more time with you before we part ways.”

I smiled and agreed. We walked down the stairs together in silence, but it was a much more comfortable silence. I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face, and neither could Colson.

He walked me all the way to my hotel room door. We faced each other for another moment, just smiling at one another. It felt weird to not be fighting with him in that moment, but a good weird.

“I should get up to my room I guess,” he finally said. “I have to be up pretty early tomorrow for soundcheck.”

“Me too.”

“Maybe...we could meet up there and continue what we started in the elevator.”

Somehow my smile got even bigger. “Okay, I’d like that.”

He nodded, his face bright with excitement. He said goodnight and headed back towards the stairs. I leaned against my hotel room door, feeling like a lovesick teenager all over again.

That’s when I realized I wasn’t carrying the ice bucket. I had definitely left it in the elevator, but there was no way in hell I was going back for it. I was prepared to explain the entire story to my bandmates, who I was sure had heard the last of mine and Colson’s conversation through the door. I was expecting so many questions about why I was gone so long, why they had heard Colson outside with me, and why I was smiling like such an idiot.

But instead, they looked at me for a moment and my drummer asked, “Where’s the ice?”

[miss-ariella]

The Intern - Senator Chris Evans x Female Reader

Summary: Senator Evans keeps asking his intern to work late.

Warnings: Smut. Office Sex. Inappropriate boss/intern relations. Whoops.

Author's Note: I blame the gif below for putting these thoughts into my head. I blame alcohol for me putting those thoughts on paper.

When you were hired as an intern for Senator Chris Evans, you thought you understood what the job would entail, but you were greatly mistaken. A Senate intern was not an easy job and being Senator Evans intern was even more difficult than most.

Your days were spent making copies, fetching coffee, answering phones, and straightening up the office. It was quite common that you were required to work late as well, getting home past midnight to catch a few hours of sleep before being back in the office at 7 am. Recently, though, you had noticed how Senator Evans asked you to stay late more than any other staff in his office. You weren’t sure what to make of that.

On Thursday, you had just gotten back from your afternoon coffee break with some of the other senate interns when Senator Evans approached your desk.

“I need you to stay late tonight,” the Senator informs you, towering over your desk. “My roadways bill is being presented to the committee tomorrow and there are some changes that need to be made,” he says before walking away.

“What if I have plans?” you ask him, without thinking, mad about another late night. He stops in his tracks and looks back at you.

“Do you?” he asks, in a gruff voice that makes you feel about two inches tall.

“No,” you respond quietly, shrinking back into your chair.

“Good,” he replies heading back into his office and slamming the door behind him. The Senator’s chief of staff gives you a sympathetic look before getting back to his own work.

By 10 that evening it was just you and Senator Evans left in the office. You had kicked off your heels a while ago and we're glad you’d worn a comfortable dress to work that day.

“Y/N!” the Senator shouted from his office. You sighed and stood up from your desk to make your way into his office.

“Yes sir?” you ask as you entered the office. You noticed Senator Evans had removed his suit jacket and loosened his tie at some point in the last few hours.

“This whole section needs to be redone,” he says pointing at a stack of paper without even looking up from his work.

“What’s wrong with it, sir?” you asked, trying not to bristle at the fact that you were being asked to rewrite several dozen pages of documents.

“It needs to be updated with the most recent information. There should be this year’s traffic stats on Scott’s desk. Use that report to fix the information,” he informs you. It took everything in you not to groan at his request. So instead, you simply took the papers and headed back out to your desk.

Around midnight you were stifling a yawn as the Senator called for you from his office again.

“Are you done yet?” he asked, as you let yourself in.

“Almost sir,” you told him.

“What’s taking so long?” he demanded. “It was just a quick numbers change. 30 minutes top.” That was the straw that broke the camel's back, you were so fed up and exhausted that you snapped.

“Well sir,” you snarled at him. “It's past midnight, so I’ve been here for about 15 hours now and frankly I’m exhausted. I don’t get paid enough to do this; in fact, I don’t get paid at all. You have five other paid staffers in this office who could have easily stayed tonight and done a much better job at this than I could have. I don’t know what I’m doing, I’m a fucking intern!”

By this point, your brain caught up to your mouth and you slapped your hand over it before you said anything else. You had just yelled at the Senator; you were surely getting fired for this. You watched in anticipation as Senator Evans just stared at you after your outburst, his blue eyes twinkling in the light from his desk.

“None of my other staffers look as good in a dress as you do,” the Senator states, his eyes raking over your figure in the navy-blue A-line dress you had on.

“What?!” you asked in shock, not entirely sure you heard Senator Evans correctly.

“I said,” he repeats as he stands up and crosses the room towards you. “That you look so damn sexy in that dress.”

“Senator?” you ask clearly confused as you try to back up, only to collide with the door of his office.

“I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off of you since you started here,” he confesses, crowding into your space. “You are so smart and sexy too. Yes, I could keep someone else here late, but to be honest I’ve wanted to kiss you so badly for weeks now.”

Then all of a sudden, his lips were crushed against yours, kissing you fiercely. You knew you should push him off of you, but his kiss was doing something to your brain. So, you started kissing him back, meeting his lips with passion.

“Fuck,” Senator Evans says pulling back for a moment. “Tell me you want this Y/N?”

“I do,” you tell him without hesitating, surprising yourself.

“Then I think you should call me Chris” he instructs with a small smirk on his face.

“I want this Chris,” you repeat. Chris smiles for a moment before taking you by the shoulders and leading your back toward his desk. He sits down in his chair, leaving you standing in front of him.

“Take your dress off,” he orders. You nod and reach behind you, unzipping the dress and letting it fall to the floor.

Chris’s eyes slowly move down your body taking in your bra and lace panties. You can see the outline of his cock begin to harden in his slacks. He grabs your hand and pulls you down into the chair so you’re straddling his lap.

“You are so beautiful,” he tells you. You can feel your cheeks starting to blush, which causes Chris to smile again. He leans in close and captures your lips in another kiss, his hands tightening their hold on your waist.

This time you can feel the electricity behind it. It starts out as a little spark near your lips and quickly spreads through your body all the way down to your toes.

Without realizing it you begin to grind down on Chris, which causes him to groan. One of his hands moves down to your panties and he begins to rub your clit through the fabric.

“You’re soaked,” the Senator says in surprise, breaking the kiss. “Is the idea of me fucking you over my desk turning you on?” he asks as his fingers pick up their pace.

“Yes sir,” you moan causing Chris to grin. He slips two of his fingers under the fabric of your panties and runs them down your slit, splitting open your lips. You whimper as he continues to touch you.

Chris slides his middle finger inside you and your whole world shrinks down to just the two of you. The Senator slides his finger in and out of you a few times before adding the second, making you cry out. His fingers are large and just the two are filling you up.

“I want to fuck you,” Chris whispers into your ear. “I want to take you over my desk and hear you scream my name as I destroy your pussy.” You can feel your pussy clench around Chris’s fingers at his words.

“Please sir,” you beg him as Chris continues to fuck you with his fingers. Chris kisses down your neck and across your shoulder as he continues finger fucking you in his lap.

“Come for me and then I will fuck you” he instructs. “Come all over my fingers while you’re sitting in my lap and then I will give you what you want.” All you can do is nod as your moans get louder and louder. Chris’s fingers hit that magical spot inside you, and you scream as you fall over the edge, your pussy gushing around the fingers in you.

“Good girl,” Chris says, removing his fingers and bringing them up to his mouth licking them clean. Chris lifts you up off his lap setting you down on the ground. You watch as he unbuttons his shirt and pants, taking them off and revealing his toned physique. Once he’s naked Chris leans around you to unhook your bra, tossing it aside before sliding your panties off as well.

It’s hard for you to reconcile the man in front of you right now with the Senator who runs his office with an iron fist, but somehow they are one and the same.

Chris spins you around before pressing you down to lay over his desk. You can hear as he comes up behind you and feel as he lines his cock up to your pussy.

“Now be a good girl and take my cock,” Chris orders before sheathing himself in you, filling you up in one stroke.

“Fuck,” you cry out as Chris bottoms out inside you. Chris leans down and presses a kiss between your shoulders before straightening back up and sliding his cock back out and slamming in again. Chris sets up a punishing pace, fucking you hard and fast.

“God damn it. Been teasing me for months in those short dresses,” Chris says as he pounds into you. You didn’t know a cock could feel so good inside you as it does with Chris. He’s filling you up every time he pushes in. Your hand reaches out to grab something to hold onto on his desk.

“How does it feel to know that I’ve been dreaming about doing this for weeks? That the reason I kept you late all those nights was cause I wanted to fuck you over my desk. Wanted to hear you cry out as you took my cock.”

“Fuck, sir,” you moan as Chris’s cock hits your cervix. “Feels so good Senator, never felt so full before” you moan as Chris continues to pound you.

“Are you going to cum for me?” Chris asks leaning over to whisper in your ear. “Are you going be a good little intern and cum for your Senator as he fucks you over his desk?”

“Yes sir,” you whimper as Chris’ cocks somehow hits even deeper inside you. Chris pulls one of his arms forward holding up two fingers to your mouth. Without even thinking you wrap your mouth around them and suck, getting them wet. Chris smiles as he pulls his fingers back, moving them down to the front of your pussy and gently rubbing over your clit. You begin to whimper as you feel yourself getting closer to the edge.

“Then cum for me,” he orders, his voice stern in your ear as his fingers furiously rub your clit. “Be a good intern and cum!”

That’s all it takes as you fall over the edge at his order, your pussy squirting around his cock. You can hear Chris groan as he fucks into you a few more times before his hips still, his cock pulsing warm cum into you as he finishes as well.

“Oh fuck,” Chris groans, his head dropping against your back as he tries to catch his breath. Underneath him, your heart is still racing as you come down from your high.

Chris turns your head gently towards him and captures your lips in a kiss. The two of you kiss for a minute before Chris stands up and gently pulls out of you. You can feel as his cum begins to slide down your legs. Chris helps you up and turns you around to face him.

“We can finish this tomorrow,” he says gesturing to the paperwork still on his desk. “Right now, I just want you to come home with me and fall asleep in my bed. Will you do that?”

You nod in response to his question, wrapping your arms around the Senator and pulling him in for another kiss. In the morning the two of you will have to figure out what happens next, but for right now you just want to bask in the glow.

“Take me home, Senator.”

[iridiscent-aesthetics]

I just saw your headcanon of az being jealous of gwyn and eris, may I suggest the opposite? gwyn being jealous of az and eris talking.

Oh I LOVE this one! Might be a tad bit tricky but I'm soo very up for it! Thank you @aelingalathyniusrailme for SUCH a great idea!

Gwyn would've found this entertaining. IF it wasn't Azriel there. She was aware of their hatred. Aware that they were literally always at each others throats. But she couldn't help but fume with jealousy while watching them in the training ring take on each other. Blow to blow, matching at each stride. She was watching Eris and Az spar. It began with a heated argument leading to the Autumn court heir challenging the Shadowsinger to spar. And now here they were, since a straight of 15 minutes, sparring. Neither nowhere close to yielding. Gwyn was cursing the redheaded male with all she had for choosing sparring instead of dueling. The absence of the weapons as a bridge and the proximity of their sweaty bodies was too much, nor did it help that neither had a shirt on. The angst, the tension built between them; it seemed straight out of one of her smutty romance books. Gwyn wasn't liking this one bit. "Come on guys, We get it! You're strong and bold. You're Fearless males! There. fed your bloated male egos. Now stop. would you?!" She yelled, throwing her hands in the air frustrated. "Let them be Gwyn, this is far more entertaining than having to listen them arguing to the point of biting each others heads off." Cassian stood besides her crossing his arms and watching them with a hint of curiosity as to who would win. Gwyn bet her money on Az because she would have it no other way, but as much as she hated to admit, Eris was just as good. "Yeah Gwyn. Besides, two of the hottest males fighting, now that's a sight to sore eyes. Enjoy the show!" Nesta chimed in elbowing her, eyeing Cass as he put his hand to his heart and feigned a dramatic expression of pain. Nesta rolled her eyes. "Oh I'll give you a good show Ness." He said scooping her in his arms and took to the sky. Newly mated idiots, couldn't stay away for a minute. Gwyn looked back to the ring and groaned "Well at least take a break!" "Okay!" Yelled Az before delivering a good blow right to Eris's jaw. "Break." There. That should teach the male a lesson for getting all cocky and getting Az worked up. "Going easy on me Shadowsinger?" Eris said rubbing his jaw. Mother! this male's audacity was insufferable! "Wouldn't want to ruin that pretty face of yours, your highness." Az smirked back. Gwyneth clenched her fist. Pretty face?! What in all of Prythian made Az think Eris was pretty! Did he find him attractive? Was he into males? Eris was beyond fine, he was VERY attractive. A strong jaw and sharp eyes with a strong intensity. The male was hot . quite literally. He would make a fit equal to Az. His lethal darkness and Eris's burning fire. She shook her head, No. She was over thinking, Az hated Eris; old bad blood. There was no way he'd fall for him. But she'd make sure of it. Az walked out of the training pit and straight to her, sweat dripping off him. Gwyn couldn't tear her eyes off him. "Enjoying the show Berdara?" Came a teasing Azriels' voice. "Mhmm." She didn't even want to deny it, let him know she was attracted to him. About time it got through that dense head of the Night Court's infamous Spymaster. "Hey Az..., what's your type?" She shot him the question looking everywhere but him. He shot his head to her. "What?" She finally met his gaze. "I'm asking you what kind of people you're attracted to Shadowsinger!" Gwyn was certain her face was as red as her hair now. He looked into her eyes for a hard moment before answering in a low voice. "Redheads. Stubborn ones with a fiery attitude at that. Bonus if they're competitive." He was still looking straight into her eyes, with a small smirk, tilting his head aside as if waiting for her expression, while his shadows were dancing around her in excitement. Gwyn's jaw almost dropped. Along with her heart as it fell to her shoe. She was right. Of course. Of course he was attracted to fucking Eris. Redhead, stubborn, fiery attitude AND competitive. Should've added fire d*ck to the list. "Right." She'd say nothing else. She looked away. "Gwyn?" Came his voice again. Her heart ached as she looked over

to Azriel's concerned face, trying to keep her sorrow reeled in within her. His shadows were frantically jumping around them. "Is everything alright, why'd you ask?" She gave him her best smile. "Yes of course." she waved it off. " just curious." He didn't seem convinced at the slightest but didn't push as he held up a water bottle and drank. Gwyn couldn't stop herself then, She was still his friend, He deserved to be happy, even if not with her. She'd help him pursue Eris. Even if the male would never deserve Az. "So I take it you're into males?" Az choked on the water he was drinking. "What?" He croaked out. Gwyn rose an eyebrow. "Males Shadowsinger, the ones that usually have a d*ck and insufferable egos but pea sized brains?" Azriel looked amused. "You forget that I'm a male too priestess." "Didn't." She muttered and leveled him with a bored stare. "Answer the question Spymaster." Az looked away, his gaze probably searching for Eris. "I've had male lovers in the past. But I've never felt a strong attraction, especially romantic attraction to them over five centuries. Pretty sure nothing's changed now." "Then Eris- how, He's an exception?" Azriel looked at her with a bewildered expression eyes widened. "Eris? What-why, what about him Gwyn?" Gwyn rolled her eyes, hands on her hips, looking down at him. "Quit the puppy eyes act Az. It fine admitting you're attracted to Eris, he's okayish. You'd look good together I guess. Enemies to Lovers arc, angsty slow burn romance,," she shrugged nonchalantly even though she was fuming inside. Az's shadows dropped. To say he was shocked was an understatement. Should he laugh, should he be hurt, or angry maybe? Eris? Of all people in Prythian, HIM? Gwyn though he was attracted to THAT male? "Gwyneth." He started in an emotionless tone face solemn, "What the actual fuck led you to THAT conclusion?" "Oh please. It was evident, for all that being Spymaster and stuff, you sure are obvious about your crushes. I mean for starts, you HATE him, or at least ACT like you do. That's always the first step to enemies to lovers. And then you guys are ALWAYS bantering! Score 2. And did you SEE that tension while you were sparring? AND Flirting with Eris? Its clear as day 'Mr. I show No Emotion'. And Redheads? Seriously Az, could you have even tried and been any more subtle? Az looked at her for a dead half a minute and then burst out laughing so hard that everyone in the training arena were now staring at them in pure shock to see the infamous Spymaster laughing his ass off. Az looked at her, trying to stop laughing, but one look at her angry face and he burst out in fits all over again. Gwyn kicked him good and hard in the knee. "Ouch!" He yelled, not stopped laughing as he held his knee. "Gwyn- I oh Cauldron. Wait." He heaved in and out. "Good shot Berdara." He said with a hint of pride, still chuckling. Gwyn kicked him again. "Nice try deflecting Spymaster." Az shook his head rapidly, still trying to catch his breath. He calmed down and looked at her. "Gwyneth Berdara. My darling. You thought I was attracted to Eris?" He started laughing again. Gwyn grew nervous, "You're not? But you said Redhead, Stubborn, Fiery attitude, Competitive. Eris is all that." "Well I'm not attracted to Eris. AT ALL. Please don't ever say or even think of that again. Please. For the sake of my sanity." Gwyn sighed in relief. "Sorry, I assumed Wrong." But then she tensed again. "But then, if not Eris, then..." She trailed off. If he wasn't attracted to Eris, then who else was it? Redheads? Lucien? Az stood up and held her arms. "Gwyn. Gwyn look at me." She looked up at him with weary eyes. "Can you think of a better Redhead? A stubborn, competitive, fierce one? She's fearless and strong." Gwyn scrunched her nose in thought. A she, was it Vassa? He flicked her nose. "She's a Valkyrie Gwyn." A Valkyrie? There weren't many new ones other than her, Emerie and Nesta, only about two or three. She looked around to see if there were any redheads in them. Az rubbed his hands on his face. "Mother's sake Gwyn,

its YOU." Her eyes shot to his in disbelief. He liked HER? "I- you, me?" She pointed a finger to herself. "You like me?" Azriel was furiously blushing red, he rubbed the back of his neck giving her a sided grin. "Yeah...that's what I'm saying..." Gwyn thought she was going to burst with all the emotions. "I-" Before she could say anything else Eris walked up to them. "Break over yet Shadowsinger?" He smirked. Gwyn growled, literally growled and stepped in front of Az. "Stay away from him Eris, find someone else to play fight. If I see you anywhere near him or talking to him, I swear to the mother, I will rip your throat out." Eris took a step back at her promised violence. "Hiding behind a female, Scared of losing Spymaster?" Gwyn took a step at him, she was certain she'd show Eris hell today. "Leave us alone Eris. I've scored my best win today." He said, looking at Gwyn fondly and putting a hand on her shoulder. Eris snorted and left muttering something to himself. "So..., are we going to talk about how adorable you are when you're jealous and angry? Especially over Eris?" Az teased her with a huge grin and happy eyes "I have no idea what you're talking about." Gwyn shrugged in charming irreverence. His gaze darkened as he looked into her ocean eyes, "You never finished what you were saying before asshole Eris butted in?" Gwyn gave him a soft smile before reaching up to his collar and pulling him down so she could kiss him. She pecked his lips once slightly before letting go and grinning at him while she walked away, leaving Az to process what happened and blush furiously like a teenager. He watched Gwyn walk away in victory. Mother, this female never failed to amaze him, And he was certain that this wouldn't be the last time. For the first time in five centuries, Az found hope. Found himself looking forward for the next day, and the rest of his life. Something sparked in his chest at the thought, A smile unconciously made way to his lips, like every time he thought of Gwyn; and this time, he didnt make to erase it. He'd let it for the world to see, the happiness Gwyneth Berdara brought to his life.

It's not about them talking exactly, but this seemed more fun to write😅

I tried! Not sure if it was good enough, but I've never really tried writing from Gwyn's POV.

Feedback, suggestions and other ideas always welcome!