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milswrites · 10 months ago

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A Mother’s Love

~ Azriel X Fem!Reader

Summary: When their family that Azriel worked so hard to build is threatened, their children having been taken in the night, Azriel and the Reader must do everything within their power to ensure that they get their kids back home safely and uninjured. Angered by this injustice, no one could predict what lengths a mother would go to in order to protect her child.

Warnings: Kidnapping, angst, violence, gore.

Notes: I am not a mother but I channeled my love for my cat into this fic. No one messes with my fur baby!

The news was delivered to you like an omen of death. Your children had been taken. Stolen from their beds in the late hours of the night by an unknown force. A shaken Feyre had been the one to break the bad news to you, having heard it first hand from Cassian.

Poor Cassian who had been eager to give your children a taste of the Illyrian lifestyle now they were both flying well, whisking them away to Windhaven with promises on his lips that what they would experience there would put hair on their chests. Poor Cassian who was now having to deal with the aftermath of their disappearance, devastatingly overwhelming guilt settling in his soul. He had failed to protect your children. His nephews.

You didn’t blame him of course, nobody could have predicted what had unfolded under the cover of moonlight last night. You wouldn’t blame him, even when you frantically winnowed to the camp and entered their bare room only to see droplets of thick crimson blood spattered on their once white sheets. The sheets which were now stone cold from the absence of their heat.

No, there was only yourself to blame. You could have spent months, standing there in the empty room, clinging to the empty sheets of your missing children, coming up with ways this would have ended differently. Alternative realities where you did not allow them to leave with their Uncle, instead keeping them safe in your home, surrounding them with your loving presence at all times. But no amount of wallowing or wishing for the events to have not transpired would bring your children back to you. You had to stay strong for them so you could act.

Yet when your husband came crashing into the room, having fled his latest mission instantly once Rhysand had managed to get through to him, the dam that had been holding back your emotions broke.

Raw sobs broke from your drying throat, your chest heaving with the effort it was taking to breathe. Azriel, whose eyes had bulged wide at the state of the disheveled room before him, wasted no time in rushing to your side in order to pull you into the safety of his arms. However, not even the strong, grounding grip of your husband would make this right.

“It’s going to be alright,” his wavering voice whispered into your ear, unsure whether he was speaking to you or himself, “we’re going to find them. We’ll bring them home.”

“Why’s there so much blood, Az?” You harrowingly cried out between your sobs and heaved breaths, looking up to the pained face of your mate, “They must be so scared.”

Azriel stilled, taking in the room once more as he pulled you even closer to his chest, the uneven beating of his heart against your cheek filling you with even more dread. “They’ll be ok” he pathetically reasoned, tears falling down his own cheeks to match yours, “Rhysand’s got everyone out searching for them now. I’m going to go too, but we should take you to Amren first, you shouldn’t be alone.”

His words were enough to stop your crying, fire burning in your eyes as you sternly replied to your husband, “if you think I’m going to sit here and do nothing whilst my sons are in danger then you are sorely mistaken Azriel. I’m going to get them back.”

“Ok…ok,” he relented without a fight, knowing no amount of force or convincing would result in you not taking part in the rescue of your children. His shaking, scarred hands reached for your cheeks, wiping away the stray tears that remained. “My love, I’m going to need you to be strong. They’re going to need you to be. No distractions” he searched your eyes for any trace of weakness or panic as he spoke, not wanting to risk you also being in death’s path. Losing your children was an unimaginable agony he could scarcely describe, losing you too would surely be the end of him.

“Let’s go get our boys Azriel” you willed, not wanting to waste another minute talking whilst they were in the enemies hands.

~~~~~

Long gone were the days in which you bore weapons, having made the difficult decision to lay your swords down and leave the Night Court’s army upon the discovery you were with child. It was a tough call to make, leaving behind the job that you had worked so hard and so many years to get. But with Azriel being constantly under the threat of danger in his line of work it needed to be done, ensuring the unborn child would still have a parent if anything ever happened.

As difficult as the decision was to make, it all made sense from the moment you laid your loving eyes on the innocent face of your first-born son. The child, barely a minute old in your arms, had stolen your life without even trying. He had commanded your love and protection from the minute he was born and you were only too willing to provide it.

This same feeling of an otherworldly type of love, the love only a mother could understand, returned upon the birth of your second son. A child just as perfect and virtuous as the first. Your new role in life was clear, there would be no more spine-chilling and adrenaline pulsing missions performed for Rhysand, you would dedicate your life to your sons. Lay down your arms and become a new type of warrior, a mother.

And you had, passing every ounce of love and knowledge you held onto your children. The cool touch of the hilt of a sword long forgotten as you have had no need to strike one in twelve long years. No evil forces to fight against, you had enjoyed a peaceful life with your family. Until now. Until someone had cruelly ripped your life away from you.

The cold metal of the sword felt alien in your sweating palms. You gripped the hilt tightly, forcing yourself to become familiar with the weight, testing it out in fluid swings and powerful hits against Cassian’s whilst you waited for any form of news from Rhysand or Azriel who were out searching. Unwilling to let your rusty skill be the reason for your children’s death.

It was clear to you what must be done, what you had to do to ensure the safety of your family. Because of this you were more than welcoming to the blinding anger that burned deeply in your veins, fuelling your body. You would battle through a whole army with only your teeth and nails if it meant seeing your two sons safe on the other side.

It was the waiting that hurt more than anything, the feeling of being useless, standing there doing nothing whilst your sons were likely being tortured or worse. Releasing your frustration through practicing with your sword could only do so much, and after a few hours of training Cassian was stopping your actions, warning you to save some energy for the fight ahead.

So you sat in painful silence, praying to the Mother, Cauldron and every other powerful being you could think of. Begging them for mercy, to spare the lives of your faultless children who had not yet been given a chance to make something of themselves in the world. Praying for the future they deserve to have.

It was the grim face of your returning husband that broke you from your silent pleading, words heavy on his lips, “We know where they are.”

~~~~~

It was a fortress. An array of deadly defensive weapons, swarming with heavily armed guards who were all fitted with glistening, strong armour which would be difficult to pierce. It was so perfectly defended that it would take a fool to attack it. A fool, or a viciously enraged group of people who would stop at nothing to get their family back.

You advanced swiftly and quietly, using the dense foliage of your surroundings to your advantage. Finally, you were here. All that stood between you and having your darling sons in your arms again were the large stone walls of the fortress and the hundred unsuspecting men waiting inside.

Of course the rest of the inner circle were there to help, but to you - whose children were trapped inside this cursed fortress- it may as well have been you against the world.

You began your attack viciously, running the sharp tip of your sword through the unsuspecting guards throat, silencing him before he could raise the alarm and alert the other soldiers of your presence. Unblinking as his body dropped to the floor, you continued moving forwards, not wanting to waste any more time waiting and standing uselessly by. The time to act was now.

You crept along the wall, pushing forwards until you reached another enemy, this time slicing your sword against his stomach, bloodied guts pooling out onto the grass below. By this point the alarm had been sounded, shrill bells ringing out from inside the keep, no doubt having been made aware of your presence from the brutal attack of one of your friends.

The increased number of soldiers flooding out of the gates you so desperately needed to pass through didn’t phase you, they were nothing but unwelcome obstacles in your path.

You fought bloody and hard, allowing the untamed beast inside of you to roam free. It was carnage. Sword clashed against sword, bits of limbs and spatters of blood flying everywhere until the ground was no longer visible beneath the pile of bodies that covered it.

Unstoppable, you worked your way through the group, slashing and stabbing anyone who stood in your way, all the while releasing the most feral of cries from your lips. Screaming every ounce of agony and pain these men had brought you into their shocked faces as you killed them. Crazed and unstable, your unpredictable actions caused the enemy to hesitate with their advancements and yet you had no problem in cutting them all down.

You could feel the blasts of heat and untameable power emitting from your surroundings, caused by your equally furious family, but you couldn’t stop and bring yourself to look at the devastation they were unleashing, not while your children were still inside. So you kept moving onwards, rushing through the gates alone. Slashing here and cutting there. You weren’t actually sure how present you were in your own body, unable to feel the scratches and cuts which were leaking viscous blood down your arm. Perhaps the mother had heard your prayers and granted you the strength to battle on without pain. One mother understanding another’s plight.

Each step you took towards the keep, towards your children, saw a wave of energy and brutality wash over you as you continued to fight viciously. Some men bravely stood their ground against you, staring into your wild eyes as your weapons clashed together. Others tried to run from you in fear, not wanting the last thing they see to be the sharp edge of your sword. You showed no mercy to either of the two.

Chasing after their retreating forms you would not relent, killing everyone in your way. Until a firm hand meeting your shoulder startled you. Whirling around you raised your sword in preparation to strike a devastating blow, only to be met with the concerned face of your husband, of your mate.

“It’s over,” he explained, hand roaming down your arm towards your sword as if to take it from you, but you flinched from his touch and pulled your arm back to yourself in retaliation, “Feyre’s got them. They’re safe. It’s over.”

“It’s not over!” You growled at him, his arm coming back to grip yours and preventing you from chasing after the fleeing soldiers. Azriel roughly yanked you towards him, wrapping his large arms around you, shielding you from the horrific sight of the scene around you and the retreating backs of the cowardly men.

“It’s over,” he repeated, resting a gentle hand on the back of your head. Your own head was shaking in disbelief against his chest. “No” you whimpered, wriggling in his arms, “Az, they’re getting away! We can’t let them get away!”

He shushed you, hand keeping your head sealed tightly against his chest whilst the other one travelled down to take your sword from your bloodied hands before throwing it to the floor. “Please my love,” he begged, lips pressing against your filthy forehead, “your children need you. Our children need you. Please come back to me.”

You were shaking in his embrace. Wondering how in good conscience you could allow those men to escape, the people who had stolen your children from you. “Cassian can handle them, you need to stop” he tried to convince you, the mating bond sharing your thoughts with him. “You fought so bravely my love,” he continued, hugging your trembling form, “it’s over now. We need to see to our sons.”

~~~~~

You did the best to clean yourself up with what you could find. Using a scrap of material to lamely attempt to wipe the dried blood from your skin, not wanting to scare your boys with your bloodied form. Not wanting them to see their mother like this.

Your blinding fury had subsided, your husband having talked you back to reality. The only need remaining was the one to take your children in your arms and never let them go.

Hands sealed together for support, Azriel led you through the winding empty halls towards where Feyre was hiding from the fight with your sons. Turning round the corner, you finally laid your watering eyes on them, scratched and a little bruised but otherwise unharmed.

Your relief was so overpowering you began to sob once more, salty tears streaming down your face as you ran over to the two boys, dragging them into your open arms in order to give them a blisteringly tight hug. Littering their heads with grateful kisses, the boys giggled. Squealing as they wiggled in your tight grip trying to get away from your overbearing display of affection.

Azriel approached where the three of you were tangled together in a heap on the floor and forcefully threw his arms around you all, covering your small but perfect family like a comforting blanket. “You are never leaving my side again!” You cried in-between kisses delivered to their flushed little faces, Azriel following suit and leaving a gentle peck on each of your son’s cheeks.

“My poor babies” you couldn’t help but wail, crushing them a little bit tighter into you, fearful to ever let them go.

“It’s ok mum,” They managed a small grin as they looked up to your distressed face, “we knew you would come and get us! And dad too!”

A happy sob broke from your lips at their words, laying a final kiss to each of their foreheads before speaking, “I would have gone to hell and back to find you if I needed to. Your dad too.” You cast your mate a loving smile whilst still huddled in your embrace, heart filled with joy at the family he had given you, at the family you would both kill to protect.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Notes: This was my first time writing a proper fight sequence so I hope it flows and makes sense!

#acotar #fanfic #acotar imagine #sarah j maas #azriel x reader #a court of thorns and roses #azriel imagine #azriel shadowsinger #azriel oneshot

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melancholymetropolis · 10 months ago

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“So you were just going to leave?”

His thick, raspy voice crawled from the doorway and into the partially packed office. “And not tell me a damn thing? Come on, princess. I know we have our problems, but this is a whole new low.”

Although his delivery was playful, I could feel the heat radiating off his massive form. I didn’t need to turn to face him to know that his fists were balled at his sides and his jaw was clenched. His footsteps barely made a sound on the polished floors as he moved from the doorway. Gradually closing the gap between us. He was testing the waters. The taller man knew we were both equally yoked when it came to temper; which was one of the many reasons I was leaving.

Instead of replying, I simply continued to fill up the massive box before me. It was labeled “Miscellaneous”. But, some of the items meant more than oxygen to me. Like the picture of when Japan won their first gold medal after being second in the entire world for three years. Fushiguro Toji had practically plastered his body next to mine in the picture. An arm curled around my waist and a hand on my thigh. Instead of looking at the camera, he was looking down at me. A sly smile on his scared lips. They said a picture was worth a thousand words, but the look on his face alone was worth a million. Every time I looked back at the image, my heart would leap from my chest. Tendrils of hope wrapped around my brain and breaths of longing filled my lungs. The look was confirmation that everything I had felt was not a game, nor was a piece of fiction. I hadn’t made it up in my mind; it was real.

The feeling was mutual.

He had been in love with me, as I was in love with him.

Had.

Was.

Two words that spoke the language of the past. Not the current or future tense.

Those feelings seemed to change after one fateful phone call from another woman. Another Olympic athlete from Japan’s track team. Tall, lanky and full of spark. On any other day, I would have been a fan of hers. I had seen her race and she was the fastest person in the country. She made running a hundred meters look easy. Even with sweat coating every inch of her body, the athlete was gorgeous. Not only that, she just was so sweet and had the softest voice. It made the news spewing out her mouth hurt just a little bit less than it would’ve if Toji had told me.

Not only were they dating for the past three months, but she was also pregnant.

One of those facts would have felt like a bullet wound to the chest on my best day. To have them transcribed to be minutes behind the other, it felt like my lungs stopped working. The pressure that built in my throat burned hotter than the sun and the tears that rolled from my eyes were practically steaming. The phone dropped from my grasp and clattered to the floor. My back slid against the wall and I couldn’t escape the sobs from escaping my lips.

Not only had he sent me mixed signals for the past month prior, but he was actively courting another woman at the same time.

And got her pregnant.

He never said a word about it.

Never thought to share such information with his personal assistant.

With his friend.

At least I thought we were friends before that.

Part of me wished we were more.

But that was killed by the news.

“Y/N. . . ?” The anger in his voice wavered into something resembling worry.

The placement of his hand on my shoulder had made my heart stop. I didn’t know I had been crying until I saw the tear droplets splatter on the picture of us in my hands. I felt my body begin to tremble underneath his touch and the anger that I thought I’d shoved down was resurfacing. It was bubbling from my chest and rising up my shoulders. It eased up my neck and made a beeline to my lips. I clenched my teeth, attempting to force the words back down my throat. My brain was screaming to be rational. To think my words through. To refrain from saying something I may regret. Yet, my heart had other plans.

“Don’t touch me,” I said, tossing the picture in the trash bin next to my foot. “And leave me the hell alone.”

-----

a/n: I am back from the dead! Did you miss me? I got a surprise coming for you on Sunday!

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im-ovulating · 1 year ago

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(A/n: Already day 6? Sheesh... Dont get used to these being this on time😅)

(A/n: Not proofread (as if anything I post /is/😅))

Word Count: 860

Summary- Don't be so receptive next time...

Warnings: Spanking, Degradation, Cumming untouched

Age Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Alec/Jane Volturi x GN! Reader: Kinktober Day 6- Pain + Humiliation

--------------------

There were many perks of being mated to two vampires.

Even more once you factored in that they were both members of the most powerful coven's elite guard.

You had more freedom than a normal human in this castle. You were free to walk around and use the library as you pleased. You didn't have to worry about pissing anyone off and becoming their lunch. And, you had two loving people who would do anything for you.

What's not to like? Well…

Two mates might mean double the love, but it also means punishment and disappointment doubles.

You cry out as another slap echoes through the room.

Your ass stings and tears are falling from your cheeks.

The only indicator that you're even semi enjoying yourself is your obvious arousal. Droplets fall from your crotch and soak the bed sheets from your position.

Jane has you bent over on all fours in the middle of your bed as she brings her hand down on your ass again and again.

"What number was that?" Her voice is almost cold.

"Six…" you hiccup, trying your best to keep yourself upright. You only have four more; if you fail now, she'll start over.

"You remember your colors." She says it like a statement, but you know she wants an answer.

You nod. "Green," you answer her unspoken question.

*smack*

You sob out, "S-sev-ven."

Three more, you've got this.

"What was that?" Jane chides. "A mate of mine has more tolerance than that."

Taking a shuddering breath, you say it again, clearer this time. "Seven."

"That's more like it."

*smack*

Your eyes squeeze shut as you fight to hold back an orgasm. Your face is soaked with a mixture of sweat and tears.

As the feeling ebbs away, you count: "Eight~.."

"Look at them-" Alec seethes from his place across the room. He sits in an armchair with his legs spread apart, one arm leisurely thrown over the back as his other hand rests between his thighs. "-about to cum. Haven't even been touched yet. Pathetic."

"Very sensitive," Jane agrees, eyes not leaving your trembling form.

*smack*

Your arms give out, forcing your head to the mattress with your ass still up. "Eungh~" you couldn't describe that noise if you were given a thesaurus. You twist your fingers into the sheets as you push back release once more.

"Nine…" you whimper out, muffled by the blanket. Drool starts to pool against the fabric as your mouth hangs open from both pleasure and pain.

The sweet sting shouldn't be enough to push you so dangerously close to the edge, but here you are: teetering like the world's most dangerous seesaw all because of a spanking.

God, Alec's right. You are pathetic.

The realization stings a bit, but as you look across the room at Alec, red eyes boring into your own, you can't bring yourself to mind it. You'll gladly be pathetic for him. For her. Anything your mates want you to be.

"How desperate are you?" He snarls. "How desperate must you be for this to be all it takes to wreck you so?"

*smack*

Your mouth opens into a silent scream as Jane spanks you with the most force out of all the others. "...ten~" Your eyes roll back as you cum, hard.

Your body shakes with the force as you collapse fully.

"Typical. Cumming untouched like the needy, whiny whore that you are."

You're not sure who says it as your brain slowly starts to recover from becoming mush.

"Why did you need to be punished?" Jane asks, still behind you.

Why did you? You know why. But you don't?

Your brain is practically pudding right now.

Oh.

Oh, that's right. But you were just bored; you didn't mean anything by it.

"Because I let a lower guard flirt with me…

Your ass hurts, your feelings hurt, and you love it. You're going to be bruised tomorrow. Maybe even within the hour.

That's okay. It just means your mates are going to be extra attentive for the rest of the night.

"Don't let it happen again." Alec commands, standing and closing the distance between you. He grips your hair and yanks your head up so you can look at him as Jane slips into the ensuite bathroom. You hear the water start up and assume she's running a bath for you.

"If we catch our mate acting like such a harlot again, you'll get more than you did today."

The thought drags a debauched moan from the depths of your chest. Finally breaking his stone facade, Alec releases your hair and leans down to scoop you into his arms and take you to the bathroom.

As you said: having two mates has its perks.

You might get double the disappointment, but you also get double the doting and double the pity points after your punishment. Not to mention, if you like it, is it really that much of a punishment? You would have to disagree.

So, yes, you think, soaking in the coolness of your mate as you reach for your other lover once she's in sight. It definitely has its perks…

#alec volturi x reader #alec volturi x reader smut #alec volturi smut #jane volturi x reader #jane volturi x reader smut #jane volturi smut #kinktober 2023

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volklana · 1 year ago

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Honey Whiskey

Title comes from this song:

Request: An idea just wont leave my mind and I would love for you to write if its no trouble. What if during tfaws during Madripoor Bucky sleeps with Sharon and y/n is absolutely devastated, Zemo offers her the chance to get back at Bucky and jealous/protective Bucky ensues and reminds her who she really belongs to?

I kind of took it in a bit of a different direction but I still hope you enjoy xx

Warnings: Zemo x Reader//Bucky x Reader// Smut (With Both)//Angst

A/N: любимая (pronounced lyubimaya) means darling.

Not proof read but all mistakes will be corrected in time.

It was stupid to be crying in the bathroom.

There were so many bigger things at hand but here you were, holding yourself steady on the bathroom sink, tears streaming down your cheeks and forcing yourself to take deep breaths.

The worst part is you had seen it coming from the moment they locked eyes in Madripoor, their chemistry was undeniable. The stolen looks, the lingering touches and the sly smirks she threw your way when she realized you were wary.

But seeing her, sneaking out of his room, in nothing but his shirt certainly solidified it.

“Ooops,” she giggled, brushing past you with a shove, and you made it precisely to the close of your door before the tears fell.

You did your best to push your feelings aside, finding Nagle was way more important than whatever was going on with Bucky, Sharon and by extension you.

Pulling up to Zemo’s apartment, Bucky suddenly fell back, and announced he was going to take a walk. You followed after him intending to ask if he was ok, until you caught up to him and he was on the phone.

“I’ve been thinking about you too,” he laughed and you hung back a second, heart pumping a thousand miles an hour in your chest and slinked into an alley before he could see you, and it felt like you scrambled up the streets of Riga until you made it inside the door of Zemo’s apartment.

And here you were, propped up on the washbasin trying to prevent the tears falling.

You washed your hands and as you were drying them the bathroom door swung upon and now you were face to face with a pair of brown eyes that for the first time since you’d met him seemed genuinely kind, Zemo.

“What is this?” he said softly “Why do you cry?”

You scrunched your face, trying to answer but simply shook your head as the tears stung your eyes.

He moved to cup your face and you found yourself quite unable to move away, trapped between his warm body and the basin behind you. He used his thumb to gently sweep away the tears that stained your cheeks and you felt so ashamed looking up through wet lashes to examine the eyes baring down into yours.

The overhead lights made his brown eyes seem like honey whiskey that you could easily drown in. And you kind of wanted to...

“No man on earth is worth these,” he said almost in a whisper, stopping to examine the perfect droplet on his finger.

His gentleness scared you, but then again he must have been kind once, he had been married, she had trusted him enough to carry his children, there had to be tenderness there, beneath it all.

“He loves you,” he said simply and you shook your head, “James who you cry these tears for, he loves you. He is not ready to love you the way you deserve but he does love you.”

You wanted to know how he knew these things but you didn’t trust your own voice, you wanted to argue that you couldn’t compare even an inch to Sharon and suddenly he was stroking your cheek again.

“She doesn’t want him,” he stated simply “It’s a cruel game she’s playing. The Captain chose you over her, chose to keep you by his side. So she is taking your James just to prove she can.”

“She wants to hurt me,” you whispered and his eyes moved to look directly into yours, and he nodded slowly, intently.

“The way you hurt her.”

You wanted to argue that you hadn’t been the one to hurt her, but something else seemed more important in the moment.

“Hurt people, hurt people,” you stated looking up into his eyes and he hmmed.

“You were hurt,” you noted, brushing your hand along his arm, “Behind it all you were hurt.”

He nodded.

“You need to be careful with Sharon. I had everything I ever wanted, and I lost it all and so did she.” It was a warning. “She is dangerous.”

“What about you?” you questioned gently, “Do I need to be careful with you?”

“I am dangerous, yes..but I will never hurt you.”

His eyes flicked down to your lips and for a split second you wondered what it would feel like to kiss him, to fully immerse yourself in honey whisky and amber and bergamot

You startled at the sound of your name being called and you looked into his eyes sadly.

“Go, любимая,” he said sadly “They will be suspicious, I’ll stay just long enough to not arouse suspicions.”

Bucky and Sam were going to do recon, Zemo had gone to shower and you agreed to stay behind with him.

Before they left, Bucky doubled back.

“Are you sure you’re okay doll?” he enquired tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear “You know you can talk to me about anything don’t you?”

“I know Buck,” you sighed, unable to meet eyes, “I’ll talk to you when you get back, go on don’t keep Sam waiting.” you pushed and he seemed to accept he wasn’t going to get anything else from you.

Zemo emerged from his chambers in a navy bathrobe and your eyes immediately were drawn to a gold chain nestled in the hair on his chest.

You wanted to slide the robe open and watch it drop to the floor, you wanted to finish what you had started in the bathroom but the air was thick with things unsaid.

“Whisky?” he asked gently and you nodded. He had left the door to his room open and while he poured you looked at the four poster bed draped in red and gold.

What caught your eye was a cloth bound, faded book on his nightstand and you wanted to see what it was.

“Go ahead,” he nodded, following your line of sight and when you picked it up you gasped.

“Is this a first edition?” you were almost too afraid to turn the pages and he scoffed in reply “Of course!”

You were holding in your hand a first edition of Dostoevesky’s The Idiot.

“The world will be saved by beauty,” you mused, holding the book out to him, and he quirked his head in amusement.

“You have read Dostoevsky?”

“Of course,” you seemed offended.

“Do you think it’s true? That beauty can save the world.”

“I believe so,” he said no hint of teasing, as he came to join you in his room, “You are very beautiful and you do your best to protect the world. And there are still so many beautiful things in this world. Sit,” he instructed and you sat gently on his bed as you accepted the glass of whisky he handed you.

You looked at him for a long time and shook your head “Helmut, you could have had a good life. Look at this place,” you gestured around “You could have done some good.”

“I have no regrets, любимая. I did what I felt I needed to do to make sure nothing like Sokovia ever happens again. Now I live with the consequences.”

You brought your knee up to rest your chin on, he couldn’t quite make out your facial expression.

“You are sad for me?” he almost gasped coming to kneel before you, realisation hitting him like a brick in the face

“Yes,” you replied sadly, “And I am sad for me, because now that I see you, I don’t think I can ever look away again.”

He surged forward to meet your lips pushing you down into the mattress behind. You gasped, grasping the material of his robe and as he climbed on top of you, gold chain dangling in front of your eyes.

You slipped your hands along his chiseled chest and pushed his robe down his arms until the belt gave way and it slinked off his body and tumbled to the ground.

“My god,” you mused as you drank in his body, chiseled and lean and powerful, and he had you in the palm of his hands.

He pulled the flimsy material of your top apart and slid his hands up under the band of your bra, fondling your breasts until your back arched off the bed, without warning that was ripped away too and he made quick work of your jeans and underwear kissing his way up your inner thigh and all the way up to your breasts which he absolutely devoured, you were sure you would be marked tomorrow with the way he nipped the supple skin.

That gave you a sick satisfaction knowing you might carry his mark with you for days and nobody would know but him. “So fucking beautiful.” he mused.

He pushed your legs apart with his knee, “Tell me to stop, he panted in your ear “Tell me to stop before I can’t.”

“No, no,” you ordered, yanking on the gold chain to pull him closer “Don’t dare stop!”

His thrusts were slow and languid, and he pulled one of your legs over his shoulder, relishing in the feel of you, he chuckled as your eyes rolled back in your head. Face flushed red from the action.

Your eyes widened as his hand closed around your throat and he began to pick up speed, slowly.

“Your life is in my hands, and you would trust me with it?"

"Yes, I trust you," you panted honestly and he took his hands away completely, looking at you with an expression nothing short of adoration, before diving down to meet your lips again. You clasped his gold necklace in your hand for something to grasp as he pounded into you as you came undone, and ever the gentleman, once you had taken your turn he came after you.

You were close to sleep when he nuzzled into your hair "This is my only regret. That I will never get to do this again… not with you."

You didn't know how to respond so you simply placed a kiss to his chest.

You knew he was right, there was no way you would get to do this again, as soon as Sam found Karli, Zemo would be headed straight back to jail.

He was twirling a piece of your hair around his finger, content just holding you close, before you broke the silence.

“Would you like another glass of whisky?” he hmmd against your hair and you clambered out of the bed, picking his discarded robe off the ground and tossing it on, you reached for his glass on the nightstand and placed a kiss to his lips.

You had been right, his eyes were honey whisky and you had gladly drowned in them.

You filled up two glasses from the decanter on the island, and you heard his door close.

“You are so impatient Baron,” you giggled, turning around to come face to face not with honey whisky eyes, but cold, startled blue ones, Bucky.

"What the fuck is this?" he was seething, chest visibly rising and falling rapidly.

You were like a deer caught in headlights, too stunned to move a muscle.

“This is what’s been wrong with you? You’re hung up on that piece of shit? God!” he actually fumed “I left Sam on his own to come home and check on you because I was worried about you and all this time you were fucking him?”

“James,” Zemo’s voice startled Bucky from behind, “It wasn’t like that.”

Bucky moved so quickly it was like a blur and suddenly his metal arm was around Zemo’s throat and he pushed him back against the doorframe, “You fucking touched her, I told you I would kill you if you touched her! I told you she was mine!”

“Bucky,” you rushed trying to force yourself between them “Bucky, stop! Please!” You managed to get a hand on his chest and he allowed you to push him backwards, slowly releasing his hold on Zemo’s throat. Keeping your eye on him as he gulped in air, you kept your hand on Bucky’s chest, and he laughed suddenly.

“She actually cares, oh this is priceless. Tell me doll, how does it feel to be nothing but a conquest? To be a pawn in a game you didn’t even know you were playing?”

You looked at Zemo but he was refusing to meet your eye.

Was it true, he’d done all this for some sick joke? Or to get one up on Bucky?

You felt like you were going to be sick.

“Is it true? It was just a game to you?” you asked, voice so small you were ashamed and he lifted his eyes so quickly to meet your eyes, he began to shake his head but the way you were looking at him, so small, he couldn’t lie.

“Initially, yes. But I cannot deny that you got under my skin and I grew to care for you. Nobody could fake this past night we spent together.”

You hugged the fabric of his robe tighter around your body suddenly feeling way more exposed than you would have liked.

Your eyes were burning with red hot tears and you willed them not to fall.

Bucky huffed out a laugh again and you met his hard eyes, finding no compassion there, “I’ve always been a joke to you Buck haven’t I?”

You weren’t sure why in this moment it was Bucky you were mad at.

“You give me just enough to keep me holding on, and then fuck the next woman that comes your way, but it’s okay because you know I’ll be there to pick right up where you left me.”

“What on earth are you talking about?” he demanded, taking an angry step towards you.

“Sharon,” you offered meekly, taking a step back from him as shock crossed his face, “Yes James, I knew. I knew the moment it happened, that has been what’s wrong with me these past few days. I've been hung up on you. You James, not him.”

He couldn’t answer you, eyes scanning the room for some inspiration on how to respond.

“I’m done being a joke to men like you,” you directed at them both and Zemo took a step towards you only for Bucky to turn on him in warning not to come closer.

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” you wiped swiftly at the tear that rolled down your cheek,” you sighed before laughing at your own stupidity, “Fellas, it was fun while it lasted.”

You sidestepped Bucky who reached for you as you made to move by and you didn’t spare Zemo a second look.

Neither of them tried to stop you leaving when you pulled your suitcase out the door and got into the taxi waiting outside.

You cried so much in the first few days you were home, you honestly had no tears left to cry.

You really missed Nat, she had always been the one you went to with boy trouble, she always knew how to kick your ass into action.

You’d seen the news the night before which meant Sam and Bucky would be home soon and you were not ready to face either of them, in fact you were actively dodging Sam’s calls which really wasn’t fair.

You heard his shuffled footsteps behind you, he wanted you to hear him, otherwise he was well capable of sneaking up on you.

“Why are you here?” your voice came out shakier than you wanted but you didn’t turn around.

“I needed to see you,” he pleaded.

“Buck,” you sighed, fumbling with your key in the lock before finally getting your apartment door open and stepping inside, Bucky followed suit closing the door behind him “I’m not doing this again. Whatever this toxic thing is, I don’t want it anymore.”

“Will you look at me?” he begged and you shook your head quickly.

“I can’t,” you cried. If you looked at him all your resolve would melt.

“Y/n, look at me please”

“Doll,” he begged, turning you to face him but you refused to meet his eye, arms folded across your chest to protect yourself, “Hey,” he pleaded, hooking his index finger under your chin and rubbing your bottom lip with his thumb.

“Will you please look at me,” he whispered and finally you allowed yourself to meet his eyes.

“I handled this all wrong,” he whispered again, continuing to brush his thumb gently over your lip “So wrong doll. And I am so sorry.” You wanted to lean slightly into his touch but you also wanted to protect yourself.

“I was scared,” he began but you rolled your eyes, he gave you a pleading look and continued “I know you don’t want to believe it but I wasn’t ready doll, I wasn’t ready to open myself up to being hurt. That’s the truth. It was a cop out, but I was scared.”

“Scared that I would hurt you?” you laughed incredulously, and he removed his hands from your face and looked genuinely upset.

“Yes,” he answered honestly, “Raynor she said I shouldn’t do this unless I was fully willing to be open and vulnerable with you. And I was afraid If I opened myself up to you-showed you all the ugly parts, it wouldn’t be enough. I was scared that I would not be enough for you. Those other girls didn't matter. Sharon didn’t matter. I’ve always been yours, Always. I’ve been yours from the moment I laid eyes on you.”

He truly looked upset, tears in his eyes and biting his cheek.

You honestly felt shell shocked and just about spluttered out “All this time I thought I wasn’t good enough for you! And you, you let me think that back in Riga. God!” you huffed “This is such a fucking mess!”

“I was out of line, I said things I didn’t mean because I was hurt.”

You hugged your arms around yourself “I was hurt too.” you cried and Bucky was before you in seconds.

“Tell me what to do, because I’m yours doll. I’m yours!” he was begging.

“Show me,” you panted pulling him to you “Show me you're mine”

He surged forward and pulled you to him in an instant and threw you over his shoulder and you squealed as he plopped you down on the bed.

He made quick work of both your clothes and catching your hands in his metal arm he trapped your arms above your head. He kissed his way down your neck, stopping to inspect a little mark just above your left breast, you watched his expression turn almost animalistic as he realised just who had given you that mark, he bit down and sucked hard on your neck, spurred on by the sounds he was eliciting from you.

“Nobody but me ever gets to mark you like this again,” he growled before he picked up a ferocious pace. You managed to wrangle free and he allowed you to flip him over so his back was pushed into the mattress, and you climbed on top.

You ran your hands from his muscled torso all the way up his chest and stopped to wrap your hands around his neck, “Who do you belong to?” you whispered, stilling all action. He groaned and shifted his hips in an attempt to get you to move.

You squeezed slightly tighter and god damn he made the hottest noise you had ever heard, begging from somewhere in the back of his throat.

“Who do you belong to Buck?”

“Fuck! You...doll. Belong to you,” he moaned “Please, please,” and with that you began to move your hips in ways that had the supersoldier crying out your name, hand fisted in your hair to expose the soft skin of your neck to him, he suddenly rose up and bit down again before he suddenly reached his release.

“Fuck!” he cried out again, collapsing back onto the bed pulling you down with him.

You were making some lunch when he emerged from the shower, towel wrapped around his waist and he began rummaging through his rucksack. He pulled out a square parcel wrapped in brown wrapping paper, and seemed to be hesitating giving it to you before finally conceding to whatever mental battle he was going through.

“As much as this literally, and I mean literally kills me to admit, I truly don’t believe you were just a conquest to Zemo. I promised him I would give this to you and to prove my devotion to you, I am keeping my promise.”

You gingerly unwrapped the parcel, and felt your eyes water as you realised what it was. The first edition of Dostoevsky’s The Idiot that you had picked up from his nightstand. There was a little note scrawled in beautiful cursive writing on a piece of parchment inside “любимая, my feelings were real, and the night was beautiful. And I do believe your beauty can save the world. HZ.”

Tagging:

@spookyparadisesheep @jbbarnesgirl @salvatoreitmeanssaviour@princesscornbread @loki-laufeyson-1054 @firstcashheroathlete @missvelvetsstuff nana1000night sapphire-rogers @sarahrogersevans @steverogerssimpp @spudinthemud @mrsragnarlodbrok @buckgasms @miss-patriciah-maximoff @hellomissmabel @knittingknerdy @shamvictoria11 @buckysberrie @assembletheimagines @dearthofequanimity @wellthatsrandomkek @mitra-k-w @nikkitia7 @fantasticimpaladoctor @feelmyroarrrr @sebseyesandbuckysthighs @andhiseyesweregreen @frickin-bats @buckyywiththegoodhair @iiharu-kunii @bellenuit45-blog @james-bionic-barnes @avengerofyourheart @jaegers-and-kaijus princess76179 brasspistol thelittleredrobinhood

#buckyxreader #bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier x reader #bucky x you #zemo x reader #zemo x you #zemo x y/n #zemo x bucky #bucky barnes smut #zemo smut #zemo imagine

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thecampjuicebox · 1 year ago

Text

The Devil You Do

Pairing: Ascendant Raphael x Tav(f) x Haarlep(m)

Rating: 18+, Minors DNI

POV: 2nd person

Warnings: SMUT, monster fucking, blood, pain for pleasure, whipping, stretching, scratching, overstimulation, double penetration

Searing pain rips through your core with each crack of the leather strap against your ass. Thwip! You cry out, head falling forward between your shoulders. Haarlep grins at your reactions, arm rearing back to land another deliciously hot blow to your bruised skin. Thwip! Trembling hands search the silk sheets beneath you for a place to hold onto. Anything to distract you from the well deserved lashes. Your legs tremble beneath you, barely holding up your bent over frame.

"You've stopped counting, Mouse. Shall I begin again?"

You shake your head furiously, sweat dripping from your brows and into your eyes, hair falling around your shoulders and face, slick with sweat.

"N-No.. That was f-fifteen.."

Haarlep leans down towards your smarting flesh, tongue flicking out to collect the little beads of blood forming along the whip lines. Without warning, another smack lands against your skin and you jolt forward, hoping to escape the force of the leather strap. Thwip!

"Sixteen!"

Tears well up in your glossy eyes, eyelashes dusted with little droplets of both tears and salty sweat. Raphael tuts from the corner of the room. He stands, approaching the scene with a slow walk, a cat stalking it's prey. Warm fingers trace along the globes of your ass. You hiss at the friction against your fresh wounds, practically purring now when Raphael's fingers dip to your dripping cunt.

"Don't let her fool you, Haarlep. Look at just how wet she is for us."

Raphael lifts his fingers, index and middle stretching apart to window pane your slick between them, the clear fluid stretching into a thin film. Haarlep groans at the sight, landing a harder lash to your left ass cheek, the very tip of the strap leaving a mark on the small of your back. Two more lashes follow in quick succession. Raphael reaches out and stops a fourth lash from connecting to your abused skin, grasping the leather strap and yanking it from Haarlep's hands quickly. Haarlep wines and sits on his knees obediently. The devil reaches down to grab a fistful of your hair, yanking your head up so the rest of your body follows. He presses your back to his chest and wraps a large hand around your throat, fingers pressing just enough to your arteries that your vision goes fuzzy. Hot lips coast along your earlobe.

"Ready to apologize for disobeying me?"

You chew your bottom lip in further defiance, a grin twisting your thin lips upwards. Haarlep giggles and points at you, grinding his hips into the firm mattress, cock straining against the small leather harness.

"Let me ruin her, Raphael. Please. Pretty please. She's not sorry. Let me make her sorry!"

You spit at the incubus and Raphael hisses into your ear, leather strap slapping swiftly against your outer thigh. A strained cry forces itself from your throat and he shoves you forward onto the bed, kicking your legs apart. Haarlep crawls towards you slowly, fingers walking their way up your arm, over your shoulder, and across your shoulder blades before snaking their way into your hair and shoving your face into the bed. You grunt at the force, hips bucking backwards towards Raphael. He lands another hit against your other thigh and you let out a muffled whine into the sheets, hands grasping in front of you to attempt to push yourself back up for air. Haarlep doubles down, pressing your face even harder into the mattress, a breathy chuckle rumbling in his chest at your pure suffering. The harsh sting of nails makes you cry out, Raphael scratching one long stripe down your spine, blood pooling in the dimples of your lower back. Haarlep growls to himself, palming at his painfully erect cock.

"Can I have her now? You've had plenty of fun.."

The incubus whines up at Raphael, earning a smack to his cheek. A quick hand reaches out to grasp the sides of his face, cheeks squishing together and lips puckering out.

"Wait. Your. Turn."

Raphael releases Haarlep's face with a rough shove and turns his attention back to you, hands rubbing up and down the sides of your thighs gently, extra pressure being applied to the swollen lines from the leather strap. In one swift motion, Raphael scoops you into his arms and tosses you fully onto the bed, body jostling around like a corpse. You grunt on impact, not daring to move any more than Raphael has already allowed you to. After the lashing you've received so far, and the plenty more to come, you consider disobeying Raphael regularly. Warm slick coats your inner thighs and you squeeze them together tightly, doing all you can to mask your enjoyment, your cunt throbbing for release. Raphael follows you up onto the bed, shedding his coat and shirt in the process. Rough hands force your legs down on either side of him, Haarlep joining in to help restrain your wrists above your head. You wiggle beneath the two men and whimper.

"I can't wait to stretch you out, little mouse."

Two pairs of warm lips immediately attach to your nipples, tongues and teeth fighting with the sensitive buds. You tilt your head, back bowing off of the bed, the hot pain from the marks on your ass making your legs shudder.

"Gods, p-please.."

"Gods? Aha! There are none of those here."

Haarlep chuckles against your breast and bites down roughly, leaving little pin holes in a perfect circle. Raphael eagerly kicks off his boots and leathers, angry red cock springing up, a bead of pre-cum collecting in the little slit at the tip. His hands move underneath your thighs and lift your legs up and apart as far as your hips will allow, exposing your sopping wet cunt to him. He licks his lips, thrusting his hips slowly to rub his cock against your hole.

"Beg for it, mouse."

Your hips buck upwards, begging for friction. You whine. Mewl. Cry out for his touch. You're so far beyond begging now. You need him to fuck you or you feel you might keel over.

"Please, Raphael. Please stretch me out. Make me pay for my sins."

"Oh, how delicious."

Heat rises in your spine and into your head, brain practically boiling in your skull. Raphael lands a rough smack to your clit before shoving his cock inside of you, every inch filling you up so well. Your walls tighten around him and he grunts loudly at the sudden grip. Oh, fuck. He's much larger than you anticipated. He bottoms out inside of you, the tip of his cock pressing into your cervix, sweet pain sending shockwaves deep into your belly. The air around you thickens. Time slows down. Raphael thrusts furiously into to your cunt, each movement stretching you more and more. Haarlep lays on his stomach to watch the delicious display, cooing into your ear to earn extra moans and whimpers from his words. His hand reaches down to rub agonizingly slow circles onto your clit, rearing back to occasionally land a harsh smack to the bundle of nerves. Each slap makes you tighten around Raphael and he digs his nails into your thighs, little rivulets of blood staining his fingernails. You pant heavily at the combinations of sounds and sensations. You want more. Crave more. Drool pools in the back of your throat as the devil fucks into you with delectable speed.

Haarlep sits up with a sudden idea, crawling to the end of the bed to whisper into Raphael's ear. With a grin, Raphael pulls away from you and you whine loudly at the sudden emptiness.

"N-No, please!"

"Patience, mouse. Patience. You'll thoroughly enjoy what is coming next, I swear it."

Haarlep's voice is thick and sweet like honey, gentle fingers keeping contact with your clit just enough to make you whimper. The air sizzles around you like a camp fire, heat and flames licking over your skin with a fury you've never known. You shield your eyes with your forearm. "A-Ah.." The heaviness around you makes you dizzy, lungs burning, skin seemingly melting where you lay. Haarlep claps in excitement as Raphael's human form shreds to pieces in front of you, a tall, flaming monster with massive wings and teeth to match climbing out of the husk. You gasp loudly, backing away from the edge of the bed and into Haarlep's open arms.

"Shh, little one. You're in for such a mouthwatering treat."

The large creature reaches out to you, claws burying themselves into the flesh of your plush thighs, anchoring there. You shriek at the sudden burn of pain and blood. Terror makes your heart thump audibly behind your chest as Haarlep holds you in place, the monster mounting you where Raphael once was. The boiling heat of his skin makes you writhe beneath him. Never have you been stricken with such fear as you are right now, the impending doom of being fucked into oblivion by this creature making you sweat profusely. And yet. You're aroused. Painfully and desperately aroused. Your teeth grasp onto your bottom lip and chew, wet eyes blinking up at the monster that took Raphael's place. You part your legs sheepishly, inviting it in. Haarlep groans happily, hand resuming its place on your clit, rubbing in clockwise circles. Head falling back against his chest, you close your eyes and wait. Wait for the pain. Glowing orange eyes scan over your body, taking inventory of the feast before them. You're positively soaked and ready. Just begging to be filled to the brim. The being in front of you moves in, lining it's massive cock up with your aching cunt. With a slow thrust it begins its descent into your depths, stretching you to capacity. You cry out, Haarlep whispering little praises into your ear as you take the pain gracefully. His hand continues to work your nub.

"Yes.. So good, mouse. So obedient. So ready for Raphael. Such a good little pet you are."

You mewl at his praises, eyes rolling back into your head. The pain is intense. Delicious. Paralyzing. Raphael removes his claws from your thighs and grasps your hips, tugging you closer to him, hips rolling into you with each small thrust. Your cunt shows much resistance to his size, fiery jolts of pain zapping your spine each time he plows into you. The mix of pain and pleasure nearly makes your heart stop. You reach for Haarlep's comforting embrace, only being met with his rough hands grabbing at your wrists and holding them down, forcing you to succumb to stillness.

"Don't move. Be a good girl and stay still."

The monster above you howls into the air, thrusts losing any sense of rhythm as it rapidly nears its end. His claws find purchase in the globes of your ass and without warning, he flips you over, Haarlep carefully moving himself out of the way. You lift your ass into the air, keening when the monstrous being slides out of you to adjust its position. You pant into the bed heavily. Raphael lifts you up and lies down on the blood soaked sheets where you once rested, placing you carefully on top of him. Your skin sizzles on contact with his and you hiss loudly. Little heat blisters speckle your skin and you whine in pain, moving yourself away from the source.

"Poor mouse.. Would the healing pool make this easier for you?"

You nod, chewing your lips apprehensively. Haarlep eyes the monster for a moment, earning a nod of approval. Careful hands lift you up into Haarlep's strong arms and he crosses the boudoir to the large pool of warm water near the front of the room. He lowers your trembling body into the water and you hiss at the temperature before settling on the bottom, eyes fluttering closed. The wounds on your back and ass begin to heal slowly, the harsh sting of the lashes dissipating. Your skin tingles in the healing liquid. "Better?" You nod enthusiastically, soaking for just a moment more before standing and ascending the stairs of the pool. Haarlep holds a helping hand out to you and you slide your fingers into his. You eagerly climb back into the bed to Haarlep's surprise, quickly mounting the monster that lies there. Without hesitation you line yourself up with the massive cock beneath you, sliding onto it with a thunderous groan. Haarlep moves behind you to hold you steady.

"Mm, so eager. What's changed? Such a brave little mouse you are. So proud of you."

You grin and grind your hips back and forth, jaw falling slack at the overwhelmingly painful stretch of your cunt, your slick not being enough lubricant for the monster's girth. Haarlep pops a thumb into his mouth, tongue swirling around the digit to moisten it with as much saliva as he can muster. You lean forward onto the monster, breasts sizzling against his molten chest. A loud yelp bursts from your throat as Haarlep forces his slick thumb into your puckered asshole, the digit sliding in and out with plenty of resistance. The monster beneath you growls emphatically, claws digging into your thighs where they once held purchase, blood spilling from the new puncture wounds. The speed of your hips picks up considerably, fucking yourself on the massive cock stretching you so deliciously. Haarlep replaces his thumb with his own aching cock, the sudden sensation making you cry out into the air, head falling between your shoulders as his presses his chest to your back. The three of you rock in tandem. A strong hand wraps around your throat making you straighten upwards, another reaching down to work your clit in painfully fast and rough motions. First in circles, then side to side, loud moans and whines melding together into incoherent babbles.

"That's it, pet. Scream for us. Let the Hells know who you belong to!"

The slaps of skin on skin echoes through the boudoir. Hips clash, claws rip through flesh, blood covers skin and sheets alike. Your vision blurs from the ecstasy. Raphael snaps beneath you, teeth chattering as he holds you down on his rigid cock. Suddenly, molten cum spews into your fluttering walls, the creature beneath you panting and growling in pure pleasure. You grin down at him, fingertips tracing the spikes and veins on his hot skin. Flames rise around you, skin scorching at the pure heat of it all. You cry out and Haarlep holds onto you tightly. Raphael's human form reappears beneath you, naked and completely spent. He pants loudly. You gape around his softened cock, cum, blood, and slick mixing together and dripping down his hips in a deliciously grotesque concoction. He smirks up at you and holds you in place as Haarlep continues to fuck into your ass, thrusts so rough they send you lurching forward. The incubus grasps a handful of your hair and yanks your head back, the fingers of his free hand still working furiously at your clit. That very familiar knot of pleasure winds in your belly. You scream but nothing comes out. Only hot air. Raphael chuckles loudly.

"She's so close, Haarlep. Finish her off. You're doing such a good job."

Haarlep moans loudly at Raphael's praise, hips halting as he suddenly spills his warm seed into your ass, continuing his harsh thrusts to throw you over the edge. Trembling hands grasp at anything to keep you steady and you gasp, orgasm crashing over your body, hot like the very hellfire that surrounds you. You buck your hips against Haarlep's still swirling fingers. Raphael lifts you off of him carefully and Haarlep slides his cock out of you, only to switch holes. He spins you around, sweaty bodies pressing together tightly and he continues to fuck into your spent cunt. Tears spill out of your eyes, loud sobs driving Haarlep to move harder. Faster. Hungrier. Bouncing you on his still adamantine cock, he steps off of the bed, moving towards the pool of healing. He lowers the two of you into the water, a gentle hiss sounding from the water cooling your scorching skin and making steam rise around your bodies. You grasp Haarlep's shoulders, begging and pleading for him to stop. To let you breathe. Anything to calm to intense overstimulation. And yet, another orgasm builds rapidly in your depths. Your walls tighten around him, milking him to his second climax. Raphael watches from the bed, fingers playing in the mixture pooled on his abdomen.

You're thrown over the edge without warning. Nails tearing at Haarlep's shoulders, blood trickling into the otherwise clear water around you. He grunts in ecstasy, cock twitching furiously inside of you as you grip onto him before falling completely limp in his arms. He chuckles and releases you to float in front of him. You blink your eyes up at the ceiling of the boudoir, blood rushing in your ears, the soothing water calming the violent pulsating in your core. A comfortable sigh escapes your heaving chest and you steady yourself in the pool, eyes flicking back and forth between Haarlep's tired body and Raphael, who is now sitting on the edge of the bed. He stands, moving towards the pool to descend into the blood tinted liquid, exhaling heavily at the comforting release of the ache in his muscles. You paddle towards him, nuzzling up to his warm chest, fingers toying with the course hair swaying in the gentle waves of the water. Strong arms press you into him and he places a gentle kiss on the top of your head. You sigh happily in your master's arms.

"Don't think I've forgiven you for what you've done. Rest up, mouse. You'll need it."

#bg3 fanfiction #bg3 smut #bg3 fanfic #raphael bg3 #raphael smut #raphael x tav #haarlep #haarlep x tav #haarlep smut #smut #oops #going to fade into the abyss now #my fic #monster fucker

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shewrites02 · 11 months ago

Text

Tears for Me | Zoro x Sanji |

Thriller bark. What happens after Kuma leaves?

Zoro x Sanji

Request : Open

Word Count : 2.1k

Leave a comment if you enjoy ! :)

"CHOPPER ! "

His voice reaches the crew before he does. Heads turn to the mountainous piles of ruble as Sanji emerges on top of it , Zoro's limp body held in his arms like an unfortunate bride. Was he dead ? The cook's fingers tremble against the swordsman's skin. He could barely keep himself up. All the strength he had used to keep Zoro in his arm, and the pirate was not a light load to haul . Especially when the cook's right leg trailed behind him . Nothing but dead weight.

"Don't die ! Don't die ! Don't die !"

The cooks thoughts raced to the same cadence as his heart .

"CHOPPER ! "

Sanji let out another woeful cry ! This time igniting his crew into action. Luffy arrives at the scene first, his hands immediately reaching for his first mate . Sanji doesn't move . He tightens his grip around Zoro burrowing white fingertips into his tattered body . For the first time since he'd emerged Sanji's eyes leave Zoro to meet his captain's. Luffy doesn't recognize the cook . He's never seen the broken expression that laid on his face . Tears flowing down his cheeks in rivers. Luffy's hands retreat to his side and he takes a step back.

Chopper arrives next.

"W- what happened?" Chopper stutters out . His mouth drops agape and he briefly hesitates taking a step closer. His breath caught in his throat. Red stained every inch of the strawhats clothing. Droplets fell from their bodies onto the rocks, red splatters trailing behind them like a treasure map leading to X.

"Help him !... He ne- Hel-"

Sanji couldn't breathe. Despite every bone in his leg churning to dust the only pain the cook felt was in his chest . He takes a sharp breath in accidentally forcing his knees to buckle beneath him . He stumbled, but didn't fall .

"We've got him !" Luffy reassured , settling his hand on top of Sanji's.

Sanji released his hold on the swordsman. Not really having much strength to do anything else . Even if he had wanted to. Luffy takes Zoro into his arms at the request of the doctor and they rush towards the sunny.

The cook can feel the blood seeping into the cotton of his suit. It's still warm . The swordsman was still bleeding . Another sharp breath leaves his lips . Sanji collapses to his knees, his wheezing evidence of his lungs betrayal.

Nami and Robin arrive next .

"SANJI!" Nami cries out . Her arms not long enough , and her feet not fast enough to catch Sanji before his body hit the ground . She clings to his arm . Both hands gripping his bicep fervently. Sanji shuts his eyes in an attempt to regain some control over his breath. The women continue to speak at him . Their voices muffled in the background of Sanji's thoughts.

"Breath! Breath ! Breath !"

"The Swordsman didn't sacrifice himself for you to die here."

Finally ! Air enters his lungs with a deep inhale. The new sound of his crew mates voices' draw his eyes open . It takes Sanji a few blinks to clear the tears from his vision before he was finally able to see Nami. Her lips trembled. Tears filled her eyes as her brows furrowed to the middle of her face . Sanji couldn't help his scowl in return. How could she be worried about him when the swordsman looked like that?

"What if he dies?"

Nami's breath gets seized before it has the opportunity to pass her lips. She doesn't know what to say . Fearful of offering her friend false promises, that were beyond her powers to keep. Nami had never seen Zoro injured this badly before. She examines the look in Sanji's eyes then decides not to speak. Instead her hands tighten around him.

Franky , Brook , and Usopp arrive last.

"Let's get you looked at."

The navigator waves the men over to help Sanji to his feet.

—

The cook sat and watched the swordsman's chest slowly heave up and down , as if the weight of the air was too heavy for his chest to bear . Each breath rigid , and sounding more labored than the last. Scratches and scrapes littered his body , the bandages only able to conceal so much from chef's gaze.

"Stupid ! Stupid ! Stupid Marimo !"

The tip of the cook's dress shoes clack against the wood as he tapped his foot . He drives his palms into his eyes dragging his hands down his face. An attempt to wipe the exhaustion away . The cook wanted to sleep . But Images of the ex bounty hunter's limp body plagued his dreams. Some nights he couldn't even make it to the swordsman's body. He was forced to watch from afar as his crew-mate drew his last breaths. Some invisible and unmovable force keeping him away. Better to stay awake . Where he could watch the air fill and leave the green haired pirates lungs.

"It should've been me. " The words were a whisper in the wind . Leaving the room just as quickly as they left the chef's lips . "You couldn't even let me do this one thing for you."

"Have you talked to Sanji ?" Nami asked .

The navigator was picking tangerines , while the swordsman laid against the foremast feigning sleep. He opened his right eye at her inquiry , his brows scrunched into a scowl.

"Why do I need to talk to the cook ?"

An exasperated sigh left Nami's lips. She refused to believe a man as observant as Zoro hadn't noticed the changes in Sanji's demeanor. Shifting the weight of the wicker basket to her hip , she turned her torso to face him. No words , just a glare . When she didn't answer his question , Zoro opened both eyes allowing them to meet hers . The two stare at each other before Nami breaks the silence.

"You're gonna make me spell it out for you ?" She scolded.

Luffy, Nami, Usopp, Chopper , Robin , Franky, and Brook : Everyone who had come to see Zoro while he laid bedridden in the retched infirmary. The ones who changed his bandages , Feed him his meals , and read to him while he could do nothing but stare at the ceiling . Those are the ones whom cared for him. Not the shitty cook. Weeks later and still the blonde only had the fewest of words to spare Zoro , if any at all. If he hadn't known any better he'd go as far as to say Sanji was avoiding him . He couldn't help but take note of his disappearance from the deck. His usual outside smoke breaks seemingly less frequent . But Zoro smelled the fresh smoke that lingered on him when he served their meals.

The cook had even decreased the snide comments and insults he hurled Zoro's way . Even when the swordsman provoked him the best he could conjure were eye rolls and disapproving scoffs. Zoro couldn't understand the way his blood boiled at the lack of acknowledgment. And now Nami stood in front of him subtly inquiring if he had noticed... Of course he did.

"Feel free." Zoro shuts his eyes closed , allowing his head to rest against the mast yet again.

"Damn it Zoro!" Nami grabbed an orange from the basket it and chunked it as hard as she could at the green haired pirate. "You didn't see the way he carried you back to us ... the tears he cried!"

Zoro's brows shot to his temples before his eyes opened. an immediate wave of heat crawled its way down his skin. Tears ? The cook had shed tears for him? The swordsman didn't recognize the feeling that swelled in his chest. Butterflies ?... No. What he was feeling was much more violent than that.

"Sanji sat there every night until you woke up. Every. Single. one." Nami continued . "Don't think you're the only one hurting." - Zoro knew where to find the cook . The same place he had been hiding for weeks . He pushes the door to the galley open and is surprised when he doesn't immediately see the blonde in the kitchen. Where else could he be ?

The faint scent of smoke lingers in the air. Zoro follows the scent until he see its source. The bar. Sanji sat at the edge of the cushioned seat , a cigarette in hand and a half finished drink on the table .

"So this is where you take your smoke breaks now?"

"Why do you care?" Sanji grumbled removing the cigarette from his mouth ashing it into the tray on the table.

"You're avoiding me."

"I'm doing no such thing!"

Sanji scoffs , rolling his eyes. A failed attempt to distract the swordsman from the way his shoulders tensed at his words . He had noticed. Sanji brings the drink to his lips finishing it in a single gulp before placing the cup back on the table . He's hoping it'll be the cure to the tension his body is so desperately fighting off.

The swordsman narrows his eyes decisively before taking a few strides closer to the cook. He brings his hand to his chin forcing his eyes to meet his . "Don't lie to me." Zoro's voice was stern , but also soft . What he had hoped would read as anger only came off as concern.

Sanji jerked his head out from Zoro 's hands. He stands then shoves him away with the bit of strength he could muster . The wince is automatic when he hears the painful grunt the swordsman unsuccessfully suppressed.

"Tell me why you would shed tears for me and then act like I don't exist!" Zoro demanded grabbing Sanji's wrist to keep him from wryly fleeing the scene. Although bandages still wrapped his body , he had the strength to pull the cook back to face him.

Sanji adverted his eyes turning his head to the fish in the aquarium refusing to meet Zoro's attentive gaze . His stare already threatening to consume him. Despite not being able to see his whole face Zoro still noticed the red tinge on the blonde's cheeks. Had he embarrassed him ?

"I thought you were dead idiot!" Sanji's voice breaks at the proclamation. "Why cou- why couldn't you let me do that for you?"

For the second time today Zoro's eyebrows reach his temples. He is stunned . The cook wanted to trade his life for his. Genuinely distraught that he hadn't allowed it. That blood boiling feeling Zoro was beginning to familiarize himself with had returned. The marimo border-lined enraged at the question. Sanji asks as if it were a trade of a chore, a switch of night watch. Zoro had told him then "it's a warrior's job to risk his life in combat" and the ex pirate hunter was the only warrior on this crew.

"You spoke of my dreams and ambitions but , what about yours ? Why does your life mean anything less than mine ?!" Zoro barked . "Does Luffy not need you too?!"

It was Sanji's turn to be stunned. Mouth slightly open while he searched for the words to say. He couldn't find any he thought would satisfy the swordsman, so he spoke the truth.

"I'm just the cook."

Sanji had boiled his life down to those three words. Said it like it was reason enough to justify his death, like no further explanation was required. As though it was a common belief held among the majority. "Just the cook", worthy of no other titles or accolades. Zoro grimaced at the declaration.

"Don't fucking say that!"

Zoro's teeth were clenched. He brought his hand back to the cook's face and squeezed his cheeks forcing his eyes to meet his yet again, this time not allowing the cook any room to escape.

"You are so much more than that ! Do you understand? To Luffy, to this crew.... to me."

Zoro doesn't hesitate before leaning in and smashing his lips into the cook's. The kiss soft , but passionate. Zoro can feel the tears that now covered Sanji's cheeks against his own. The cook curled his fingers into the black fabric of Zoro's shirt as though he would disappear if he didn't. When the two finally separated, Zoro leaned his forehead against the chef's .

"Sanji." Zoro's voice was a whisper. Just loud enough for the two of them to hear. "Don't you ever say you're just the fucking cook again!"

--------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Is there a such thing as too many thriller bark fics ?... Please tell me no. lol I think its only fitting that my first Zosan fic be thriller bark inspired ! I rewatched the arc after hearing about 103 mercies dragon damnation ,and just had to write this self indulgent piece lol (btw if there are any Ryuma fics in the works or already published , I would love a tag)

{If you would like to be added to my tag list just comment / message me. I would love to have you!}

@dinuxia-bhm

#ronoroa zoro #zoro roronoa #vinsmoke sanji #one piece #sanji #zosan #zosan fanfic #zoro x sanji #thriller bark #oneshot

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sweetbuckybarnes · 6 months ago

Text

If This Is a Dream, I Hope Neither of Us Wakes Up

Pairings: Colin + Penelope Bridgerton

Summary: A tamer version of what might happen after the Butterfly Ball

Main Masterlist | Polin Masterlist

“Good night, mama,” Penelope pressed a kiss to her mother’s cheek, having already given a silent goodbye to her sisters and their husbands. Penelope’s feet were aching and her eyes were starting to droop.

“Good night, Penelope,” Portia grazed her knuckles along Penelope’s cheek. “Will you be taking tea with us in the morning?”

Just as Penelope was going to reply, an arm slinked around her waist. “I believe we will be having tea at my mother’s tomorrow, but you are more than welcome to join, Lady Featherington.”

Portia looked at her newest son-in-law, Colin Bridgerton. “I would like that very much, thank you Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Enjoy the rest of your evening, mama,” Penelope said as she was gently guided by her husband to the open doorway.

Colin finished writing the paragraph he had started before Penelope’s sisters’ butterfly ball. He glanced up to see Rae (Penelope’s maid and trusted friend) leave the bedchamber he would soon share with his wife.

“Good night, sir,” she curtsied.

“Good night, Rae.”

He set the quill down, as Rae closed the outer chamber door behind her. His head turned from one door to another. Behind that door closest to him, getting ready for bed, was his wife.

He couldn’t help the grin growing on his face. His wife!

He turned the doorknob and silently walked into the room. Penelope was almost bent in half, as she took off her shoes and stockings. He watched her stand back up, even shorter than what she was before and make her way to the vanity.

“Colin?” She asked, looking at him with a puzzled expression. “I thought you left your pillow and blanket on the settee?”

He blinked a few times, turning his head to see them still neatly folded like the version of himself from this morning wasn’t expecting this evening’s outcome.

“Indeed.”

He turned around to retrieve his pillow and blanket. As soon as he crossed the threshold again, he noticed Penelope’s head was hung and she was… sniffing…? Please, no, don’t tell him that he had made her cry.

“Pen?”

She sniffed again, this time strong - like she was sucking in her tears. She lifted both hands to her face and wiped a few rolling droplets away.

“Please, do not be upset, Pen,” he set the pillow and blanket on the bed and made his way to her side. He crouched at her side, gently taking her face between his thumb and forefinger to know she was looking at him. Just the way she looked at him, it could have very nearly broken his heart. “Pen, my love,” her eyes were a little bit bloodshot and her nose was turning pink under her makeup. Lines were running through said makeup, showing this wasn’t the first time since they had arrived home, she had cried.

“Do not look at me like that,” she told him, batting his hand away so she could remove her makeup.

He tilted his head like a puppy. “How did I look at you?”

“Like you pity me.”

He shook his head. “I have never, pitied you, Penelope. You have been my best friend for such a long time, I am so unbelievably sorry I did not see you sooner.”

The following morning, after hours of lovemaking. Colin was the one who woke up first. It was the sunlight glaring at him through the curtains, that forced him to open his eyes.

There was a long red hair hanging near his face. He lifted it and rubbed the strand between his fingers then turned his head to look at the woman he married.

Penelope.

He married Penelope.

She was no longer Penelope Featherington.

She was Penelope Bridgerton.

He smiled up at the ceiling and turned his head, and came nearly nose to nose with his wife. His wife!

Penelope was lying on her front, soft little snoozes leaving her (Colin couldn’t help but think they were the cutest sounds to ever leave her) as part of her hair hid her face from him.

He reached out to gently move her hair away from her face, so he could have a good view of the woman he married this week, the love of his life. Her nose twitched when her hair moved from her face - causing her to shift a little in bed and the sheet which had been covering them, slipped further. Revealing one of his favourite parts of her anatomy.

He didn’t say anything, as he played with the single strand of hair. This woman lying beside him in bed was his wife. His wife! He could scream it from the rooftops, he very nearly did when he got so unbelievably drunk at his ‘bachelor’ party - Benedict said that with other men it was a sad farewell to his single years. But, for Colin, it was the start of the rest of his life.

Little noises started leaving Penelope, pulling him away from his thoughts. He loved those little noises she made. He watched her as she pushed her face into her pillow, grumbling a little. Who would have thought his sunshine in human form, wasn’t a morning person?

“Penelope,” he says quietly.

“No, Rae. Tell Mama I am not awake yet.”

He chuckled a little, leaning down to press kisses to the top of her head. “Pen,” he reached out and cupped her face. “Pen, my love.”

He watched as she moved her head in the pillow and peeked one eye open and looked at him. She made a squeak and hid herself under the sheets. “Colin!” She chirped. "I thought you would have gone to sleep on the settee."

Colin knew why she had said that, he couldn't help the guilt that was racking through him over her comment though... "It was a huge mistake on my part to have slept on that settee after our wedding. If I could turn back the clock and change it, you must believe I would. This is our martial bed, and that is how it should have been since the start."

Penelope’s head emerged from the cocoon she had nearly wrapped herself in. “Yesterday was not a dream? You forgave me.

"I really am sorry I did not forgive you sooner, I should have seen the ton from your perspective from the beginning," Penelope reached a hand up and poked his cheek, then his nose and was just about to poke him somewhere else in the face, when he took her finger between his teeth. He let go of her finger and said. "Pen, my love, if this is a dream, I hope neither of us wakes up."

She let out a laugh/squeal as Colin moved on top of her to continue their amorous activities from last night.

#polin #polin fic #colin x pen #pen x colin #penelope x colin #colin x penelope #colin bridgerton #penelope bridgerton #portia featherington #spoliers for season 3

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thoughtsonhurtandcomfort · 21 days ago

Note

Slap, claw, and muffled for Seraphina? (NSFWhump)

from this prompt list. thank you!

Content Warnings: NSFWhump, noncon, lady whump, angel whump, demon whumper, capitivity, slapping, clawing, rough treatment, size difference, Dead Dove Do Not Eat, please heed tags!!

Author's Notes: for context, Seraphina is a fallen angel, Erystos (referenced) is a demon who she eventually falls in love with. The vague bones of their story is that demons have taken over parts of the world & humans hold onto others, angels have stayed out of the whole thing except for the occasional ones who fall, etc etc, none of that is really relevant here though, this is just a one-off.

The rooms of the demon's crumbling palace are far too cold for what they have dressed Seraphina in; draping silks and beaded chains that accentuate the curves of her body and leave nothing to the imagination. So far no one has touched the angel, but she has been guarded constantly, day and night, until the powerful leader of this demon horde returns for his prize.

He returns that day and wishes to see her. The demon 'lord', as he has declared himself, is a massive beast twice Erystos' size, broad and muscled, battle-scarred, with sharp nails, pitch black eyes, thick horns, and a tail that halfway up splits into three pointed ends that flick and undulate behind him. He makes a low growling sound at the sight of her, his mouth spreading into a toothy grin. As he slowly walks the perimeter of the room, appraising her, Seraphina notices the guard has left and the door wide open. Seeing what could be her only chance, she darts towards it.

But the demon is quick and his magic powerful. He appears before her in a puff of smoke and Seraphina doesn't have the chance to brace herself before he swings his hand out and backhands her across the face with such force that it knocks her off her feet. Seraphina crashes to the floor with a strangled cry and shields her face, cradling her throbbing cheek while she gasps for air. They have fed her so little, and being part-mortal, she weakens quickly from it. The blow nearly makes her black out.

She is allowed time to catch her breath, not out of kindness, but curiosity, the demon wondering what the pretty little angel will do next. As soon as her head stops spinning, Seraphina struggles to get up and stands on shaking legs to face him, half furious, half terrified.

"Come here," he orders with deceptive softness, holding a hand out for her.

Tears spill down her cheeks, one of which is beginning to bruise. Her head pounds and blood trickles from one nostril and a cut on one side of her lip. Knowing resisting is not only pointless but outright stupid, she goes to him, one fearful step at a time.

The demon lifts a hand to her cheek. Seraphina flinches and shuts her eyes as he rungs his fingers over the hot skin of the mark he made.

"Look what you made me do," he laments. "You are damaged, now. I will have to find another."

Seraphina doesn't waste time feeling hope that she might be freed, and she is right not to. There is a hunger in the demon lord's eyes and that is her only warning.

He grabs her shoulders, whirls her around, shoves her to her knees and bends her forward. In a moment of foolish panic, she tries again to flee, but he catches her hair and yanks her back to fall against one of his thick arms.

"I won't kill you," he promises with a dark laugh, as if this is all a game to him. "You will be a gift for one of my loyal followers...once I am done with you."

With one large hand he forces her down again and pins her face down with her wounded cheek pressed to the marble tiled floor. She groans in agony, the fight leaving her once she sees that fighting will only hurt more. The demon curls his other hand around her thigh and digs his claws in until droplets of blood trickle down her leg.

And then, with no warning, he tries to push into her. Her body clenches up, trying desperately to reject him, but he tries and tries, thrusting in and out and burying his cock a little deeper each time. The pain is overwhelming and Seraphina is utterly helpless to do a thing about it, so she muffles her cries into her arm and goes still, allowing this curse of a mortal body to be broken and used at the demon's whim.

#I don't know where this came from #I'm sorry phina :(#nsfwhump #tw noncon #lady whump #angel whump #captivity #slapping #clawing #injury #blood #rough treatment #demon whumper #manhandling #whump writing #my writing #my ocs #seraphina

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pianocat939 · 2 years ago

Note

Celina: *releases a little blurb about platonic yandere Donnie*

Her fans: *read it*

…

Her fans: *bowing down* oh sweet goddess of yandere fan fiction, we as your loyal fan base and vessels require a part two!

Celina: uh-

(I’m sorry. I had to write this, it was my first thought when I read your short blurb. It’s up to you if you wanna write more to it, you seem very busy so I won’t press. Enjoy your day ;) PS: yandere Mikey says if you don’t hydrate you will be bound down to a chair and be forced to attend his 6-hour-long seminar about why water is important for the human body. And yes, the word count is the same, if not more, as that of ‘The Odyssey’)

ugh- two more weeks before the musical and then I'll be free...except for studying for my AP exams-

1st part

Tw: implied forced mutation, abandonment, heavier angst than usual, brief mentions of death (but doesn't actually happen)

"Oh my god! What is that- that weird turtle creature?!"

"Get away! It might be dangerous!"

The child looks up at their parents in pain and in desperation. They were no longer human but now a turtle-human thing of some sort. But surely their own parents should recognize them right? But to their dismay, their parents dash away from them, terrified for their lives. Leaving the poor child alone and afraid: not used to their new form.

"Mom...Dad...but- but- it's still me." The young one begs quietly, a voice that of a whisp, tears streaming down their face at the realization that they were alone, and abandoned. They stare down at their hands, sorrow running through their mind. Their hands were no longer the five-fingered skin anymore; it was a shade of green, with only three fingers with scales dotting the surface. "How could this happen to me?"

The newly mutated turtle shuffles back into a corner, encompassing itself in the shadows, hiding their new form. It anxiously scratches its arm a bit, eyes darting everywhere around the landscape. "How am I gonna live? I'm...I'm just a kid still." More water droplets flow from their eyes, stinging their skin with unfamiliar wetness. They silently hunch over and stare at the ground, feeling a hole gaping in their stomach: their center feels chilled as if an actual hole was there. "I'm...I'm gonna die soon. There's no way I'll make it, not in this form."

"Not if an adult is willing to assist a child of need."

An unfamiliar voice speaks, and slowly a somewhat tall turtle mutant emerges from behind the wall. He kneeled down in front of the young one to make himself less intimidating. "Did...Did your parents leave you after you mutated?" He questions with a frown, his eyes seem to hold sympathy, an understanding of the pain the child is going through.

At that moment, they truly realized what had happened moments before. They were left behind, abandoned. Standing alone to fend off the world. They broke down completely, no longer leaking a few tears from their eyeballs, but a whole waterfall. They had nowhere to go, no one to talk to, just a pitiful form of an ugly turtle beast.

The man firmly hugs the small kid, patting their shell gently. "I know you don't know me at all, but...I'm willing to fill in the role of a parent." He offers, voice gently and warm in attempt to comfort the poor emotional wreck. "I'll...I'll teach you the life of living as a mutant, and I promise, you'll be safe and taken care of." He notices the child relaxing a bit and gingerly rocks them while they lean into his embrace.

"So...Will you trust me?" He hesitantly asks, patiently waiting for their response.

For a few moments there's a silence before the young one answers, "I'll trust you."

The older man smiles and nods in confirmation. "I'm Donatello. You can call me Donnie if you would like, or any title you wish to name your newly appointed guardian." He stands up and motions the little kid to follow him as he saunters, ensuring his new family member can keep up. "What's your name?"

"Y/n." Their voice is still raspy from crying, but there's a sense of warmth in it: hope. They pursue him, feeling an odd safety to the man. "You have a lot of gadgets on you, are you a scientist?" They interrogate, pointing at his arm brace.

Donatello grins in pride and joy, "Why yes, little turtle. I love science, and I make lots of technological inventions; it is my passion."

"Cool! I like science too!" They cheer quietly, excited that their new protector has a similar interest in science.

The inventor laughs in a proud matter, staring down at the little one in a loving, fatherly matter. "Then you'll be ecstatic to see all my inventions, I just know it."

He had done it. This wonderful child was now his. His to take care of, protect, and to love. They'll no longer have to suffer that neglectful world their parents once reinforced. They can just stay in their father's embrace, and watch rockets fly as a pass time.

What a wonderful unification.

——————————————————

I do love myself a good angst piece- needless to say I enjoyed writing this- now I shall sleep, it's 2 AM.

I think I might have a little talent in angst writing-

- Celina

#asks #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere rottmnt #yandere tmnt #rottmnt #tmnt #rottmnt x reader #tmnt x reader #tmnt 2018 #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #yandere donnie #donnie x reader

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blarefordaglare · 8 months ago

Text

Faults and Secrets

Or Sky is a failure and cue dad time.

Or Sky does embroidery because I say so. He and legend chill while sewing ‘n stuff but legend ain’t the focus he gets reprise from the torture I have for him… 😈

…

The chosen hero hated secrets.

His hands ran through the embroidery, over and over again. He could feel the faint burn of skin peeling from the harsh fabric, leaving behind pieces of red flesh not ready for the world yet.

Over a dozen eras of pain and dystopia, and it was all his fault.

The pattern is all his fault.

Sky was tough, he could go a whole life knowing the land his feet were stuck on will never remain peaceful, but he put his family in danger. That, he could not live with.

“What have I done?” His wings gone matte as the words slipped off his tongue, “What have I done?” His fingers increased in speed as he rubbed against the fabric, soft droplets of now-blood staining the once courageous tunic. He wasn’t courageous, he was selfish. Sacrificing the people he loved for a short lived peace.

He was a monster.

“Everything alright over there?” The soft yet put together ringing of Legend’s voice broke through the once quiet evening, towering over his own thoughts.

Sky gave him a teary-eyed look, one of sympathy and apology, “I’m sorry.” With that, the ‘hero’ exited the lit clearing, leaving nothing but a stained tunic in the once gathered spot. He shouldn’t think it’s his fault, he knows that, but his brain rings out that it is. And when was his brain ever wrong?

By the time the fairy arrived at the goddess statue, he was almost certain the mud would stay on his legs forever. He didn’t deserve the wings, the light, or the magic. He found it fascinating how his Zelda’s said appearance changed over time. They never seemed to get her features quite right, like how her eyes glow ever so slightly when she smiles, or how her hair has a feeling of silky gold.

Or maybe it was just him, he didn’t deserve her anyway.

And so the Skyloftian sat, staring blankly at the hand carved stone. I wish you were here, Zel. Maybe you could have saved me this time. Sky doesn’t deserve the freedom of crying, he has nothing to cry over. The pain that was inflicted on everybody was enough-

A soft chime bounced through the water surrounding the statue, startling the boy. It wasn’t his own, he didn’t deserve connection, not after what he done. The Skyloftian looked behind him, only to be met with a hero, who was forced into battle too young, “Is everything alright?” He knew his voice sounded force, strained. He held back the urge to echo back to the fellow fairy, “Nobody is hurt, are they?” They probably were, he left them. Forced them to live a terrible fate.

The fairy in question simply stepped over, until he fluttered and landed softly onto the others shoulder, “The champion made dinner.”

“Not hungry,”

Time sighed, looking at the other hero, “You know, I defeated Ganon before.”

“I know.”

“And despite that,” The bright flutter of the man’s wings began to settle, switching for a more melancholy feeling, “I lost my best friend.”

Sky looked skeptically at the voice next to him, confusion flickering through his eyes. “But,” he scrambled through his hands, as if trying to catch the thoughts, “But you saved Hyrule.”

The mostly green wings flashed a glow of what looked like accomplishment, before quickly returning to normal, “There is a difference between saving the world, and creating a utopia,” Time paused, collecting his thoughts, “It’s not your fault, son.”

Sky could feel his face crack and crumple, his shoulders tensing and relaxing at a fast rate. Hot tears dripped down his face as he dropped himself it the other’s embrace. He wanted to chime out all his pain, but instead he just sat and cried. Somehow that felt better.

“It’s not your fault.”

#lu fairy au #lu sky #lu time #lu legend #but legend isn’t rlly included this time #I’m so sorry this is late #I fell asleep while tryna upload this 😂

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its-chili · 1 year ago

Text

Mold

I read a strange book once in elementary school about a girl and her cat. Something about ghosts or shadows and a curse I don't particularly remember the name or nature of. I only got about halfway, as those sorts of things tended to freak me out, and I would have rather read I Spy or Ripley's Believe It or Not. But, for some reason or another, I have never been able to get the setting of that book out of my head. It took place in a house that wasn't hers- or at least a house she hadn't lived in for her conscious years. I remember how it was described as this massive organism whose cells and organelles consisted of hallways and bed bugs. How living in its bricked walls was to invoke the experience of being digested, and with every passing day, parts of you would congeal into the furnish. Your flesh would start to peel, needing another coating, while your bones would creak and cry out for oil. I remember the terror that the book instilled in me.

I don't know when I left or how I got there, but I wake to find myself in front of a house, simultaneously my own and someone else's.

There is an infinite expanse of blotchy gray-green in every direction, only varying in size but never shape. A skeleton of a picket fence, overgrown with weeds and vines, the only thing separating me from the great beast of brick and mortar. I turn my head to look behind me, expecting to see a road of some sort, but nothing. Nothing but Daisy, my old truck, and her faded mustard skin and bulging blue headlights. I don't remember driving. Where are my keys? I dig a hand into my pocket, rustling around only to pull out some cotton knots and… I want to leave, but Daisy smiles, encouraging me forward. I don't think she knows where to go, either. Or if she is even capable of leaving. Last time I checked, she was on empty, and her left back tire was about to burst like a rubbery piñata

I turn again. The house remains. Motionless. The exterior has been painted cream. Or white. Or something of the like that maybe once looked pristine and shiny and new but has long since lost its luster. I try to remember a time when it looked shiny and new. It has always looked this way. It has never looked this way.

Despite myself, my feet begin trudging forward, carrying me like an unwilling passenger forced upon a train headed for what could only be certain doom. I feel the strain of weeds tangles against my boots. It feels like ripping sinews.

The journey takes hours. I appear at the steps in minutes. Where did the railing go?

Flashes of my grandmother shoot through me. She smiles as she holds out a tray of apple juice and chocolate chip cookies fresh out of the oven. Then she frowns as the tray hits the ground. She's staring at me. Her ankle doesn't look right.

There is supposed to be a railing.

I go to open the door- but there isn't a handle. Where did the knob go? Did someone steal it? Who in their right mind would steal a doorknob? Does it have that much value? Or was it the only shiny thing left, and whoever stole it figured that that was the only thing that could possibly give them anything worth the trouble. The urge to run suddenly spikes through my chest. I turn again. Daisy is gone. Everything is gone. It's just the infinite sea of blotchy gray-green.

I hear a creak behind me. The door is open.

I can't move. Everything in me screams. I want to laugh. I do laugh. I laugh so hard my sides hurt, and tears start to form in my eyes, and I have to bend over and hold onto the railing that isn't there to steady myself.

I bring a sleeve to my face to wipe away the tears and the blurred lens of my reality, and I almost relish in the salty sensation of the tiny droplets that manage to sneak their way onto my tongue. I relish the soft fabric of my sweater. I don't remember if I have washed this. Do I need to wash this? I smile as I bring my arm back down, only to find myself standing in the middle of my kitchen.

A table carved with indentions and scuff marks sits illuminated by a single golden orb. I can't see past the head of the table. I can picture my father's beaming smile, slightly shaded by a tangle of salt and pepper strands of scruff. I hear my mother's voice whisper a wordless prayer. It resonates with me. I sit at the end. A plate is in front of me, but I don't know what's on it. Mashed potatoes? Squashed Eggplant? Whatever goes into the cafeteria food I had to consume in college so I wouldn't starve? My fingers grip a knife I didn't realize I was holding. The mass does not make a squelching sound. It does not vibrate slightly like rotting jello. It does not stare up at me with one giant, congested, verdant eye whose veins pulsate to the rhythm of my racing heart… It does not roll back to gaze at the other end of the table. It does not focus on the figure at the other end of the table.

At one point in my life, I think in my junior year, my family and I had to temporarily move out of our house because we had discovered a patch of black mold behind my parents' bed. The cleaners knocked out the wall, prepared to place the plagued patches in the trash, and called it a day. The wall came down.

The bones and organs of my entire house were black.

During that time, my mom had been designing the interior for my uncle's townhome, and thankfully, he let us crash there until the mold was dealt with. My mom's immune system could be compared to a wet Kleenex, as almost every food category was in the danger zone, and she couldn't get nutrients and immune support from just salads and chicken broth alone. I spent that entire summer in that tiny house–having to drive back and forth 30 minutes from there to my job back home to back again to my friend's houses to my grandparents to back- The gas prices always seemed to rise every time I pressed on the pedal. We were given the all-clear at the beginning of August and promptly huddled back into the hovel we had carved in the shape of ourselves….

Two years later, my mom started coughing while we watched Sound of Music in her bed. She got sick…very sick. She was ill to a point where fish lips chewed on her eyes, and blue worms wiggled beneath her taut skin. I remember the crystal snake that curled around her arm and off the bed, feeding back into a plastic bag hanging ever halfway empty beside her. I remember the drip. Drip. Drip of it. I was a floor above them, but I could still hear it underneath my covers. I swear I could see the tube sometimes slithering beneath my bed.

And then, one spring, the drip just… stopped.

It was sunny outside. 73 degrees. No chance of rain.

We tore down my parents' room a few months later…and faced a black hole of spores as the wall came down.

My eyes focus once more, or at least as focused as they can get with the dim lighting. I stare at the "not mashed potatoes" before me. I want to look at the other end of the table. I need to look at the other end. But my body refuses; there's an anvil pressing in my throat, forcing down every syllable and scream and panicked breath, and my hands are clamming up like they've turned into a kid's bad science project. I feel the neurons firing; I can picture myself craning my neck as if my head didn't feel like a sloppily attached bowling ball. But nothing. I am utterly paralyzed.

The sound of wood scraping against wood echoes in my ears as the shadows shift just out of sight, dancing at the edges of my vision. The floor creaks. Closer. And Closer. Uncomprehendingly heavy and light all at once. And from the darkness, a fragment of a long, wiry appendage slowly begins to-

#lostcore #strangecore #surrealcore #weirdcore #eldritchcore #local cryptid #eldritch horror #cosmic horror #cryptidcore #cryptid #horror #horror story #horror fiction #eldritch fiction #hp lovecraft #mushroom #bone #flesh

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catz4ever · 2 years ago

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"Oren"

Chapter two: "Reunion"

Adar Fanfiction

**It's been months since I posted the first chapter of this fanfic and I'm so sorry it's taken so long to get the next one posted! This is a shorter chapter but don't worry, lengthy chapters are coming!**

I hope you all enjoy this next chapter! Please feel free to leave your feedback in the comments below or message me! I absolutely love hearing from people who take the time to read my work!

If you would like to be tagged in future chapter posts, please let me know and I'd be happy to do so!

Chapter 2: Reunion

At first, she did not believe his words. But the way he touched her hand and knew her husband's name for her, could not be ignored. She studied his face intently, his scars catching the faint red light of the mountain erupting in the distance. His skin was twisted with old burns and lash marks, so much so that it made his cheeks seem sunken in. It was only when she caught a glimpse of his eyes that she began to recognize her husband. The deep green irises glistened and stared deep into her own, both sad and gentle with a quiet ferocity about them. He reached next to her and pulled the knife from the tree, releasing her arm. She stepped towards him, her hand still on his cheek. He looked down at her, something he had done thousands of times before his capture. His eyes searched her intently, glinting with emotion, making sure this was not a dream. The tears came but his face was expressionless, and he continued to stare and released her hand from his cheek.

She met his eyes and began to cry along with him.

"Oh Oren…what have they done to you?..." she asked, but he remained silent, still in shock. She reached up again to dry the droplets that had fallen from his eyes, but he grabbed her wrist aggressively to stop her.

"Don't…," he said quietly, "You're not real…you can't be…"

"I'm very real, meleth nìn…I know it must be a shock to see me after all of this time…," she replied. His lips trembled and he swallowed hard. He looked down at the ground, a puzzled look on his face.

"How long has it been?..." he asked her.

"Over 6,000 years…," she replied. He released her arm and began to Pace frantically.

"No…no…this is impossible…my wife is long gone!" he yelled, pointing his finger at her, "if you are truly here, you must be some sort of spirit sent to torment me!"

"Is that what your master led you to believe? Oren…please…I am no spirit…it's me…truly it is…" she pleaded, trying to convince him. He stepped right up to her, his nose inches from her own.

"PROVE IT…" he demanded. She took one of her daggers from its scabbard and made a slit in her palm, allowing crimson blood to fall freely from its opening. She lifted her hand up to show him, a frustrated scowl on her face.

"Tell me, husband, do spirits bleed?!?!," she yelled, her face still close to his. She grabbed his right hand and pushed his fingers into her palm, forcing him to feel the warmth of her flesh, smothering the tips with her blood. His eyes widened with realization that this was not a figment of his imagination or a vengeful spirit….his mate had returned to him. He fell hard to his knees, holding her injured hand in his, and wept.

As she lowered herself to the ground and knelt next to him, he took her bloodied hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it tenderly. She gave him a timid smile and began stroking his head, combing her fingers through the black strands of hair.

"The last time I saw you…I couldn't even hold you…I had to reach through iron bars…" he managed to say.

"You remember…," she said. He lifted his head and looked up at her, an expression of sorrowful joy on his face, nodding in agreement. He tilted his head sideways and focused his attention on her lower abdomen. He crawled up closer to her and she let him. Stroking her stomach gently, he rested his forehead near her navel.

"…winë (baby)...you were with child…" he said softly, almost in a whisper as he recalled the memory.

"Yes…I was…," she replied. He laid his head down on her lap, eyes wide open and blank as if he had frozen in time. With all emotion void from his face, he continued to stare into the billowing smoke swirling around them from the mountain. He spoke in almost a monotone cadance, trying to handle the flood of memories returning to his conscious mind.

"Does the child live??..." He asked in a raspy voice. She continued to comb her fingers through his hair as he lay there in a shock-like state.

"She does…," she replied. He closes his eyes slowly and let out a long exhale as if he was relieved. He lifted his head from her lap and stood up dusting off ash that had settled on his armor. She came to her feet as well and stood there staring at him longingly, but he avoided her gaze.

"You must go…you do not belong here…," he said.

"What are you talking about!?? I've spent most of my life searching for you and now you want me to leave?" She asked, frustrated. She reaches for his hand but he swats it away.

"I'm afraid you've wasted your time…" he says sternly. She starts to cry and reaches for him again.

"…I grieved for you…years of thinking I could never feel whole again….fearing my fäe would forever be in torment and in a constant state of suffering…" she told him.

"I am truly sorry to have caused you so much pain…but I am not the husband you once knew…that part of me is gone…" he said solemnly.

"I…I don't understand….a moment ago you were kissing my hand…but now you want nothing to do with me?!...." She asked.

"That's not true…it's more complicated than you could hope to understand…" he replied. She reaches up for his face but he steps back.

"Then help me understand….I will not lose my husband a second time…" she says. He shakes his head and takes out his dagger making a slit in his hand. Black blood oozes out of the opening. He scowls and walks up to her. She gasps in shock.

"You see?? See what I've become??! I've been twisted and transformed…my elvish heritage ripped from me like a gutted carcass…there is nothing left for you to love…" he says looking down at the ground. She tears off a piece of her tunic and steps forward, taking his bleeding hand in hers. He does not resist her. She looks up at him and smiles as she attempts to wrap the palm of his hand.

"That is not true…" she said. He pursed his lips together in anger but there is a deep sadness in his eyes. He puts his hands on her cheeks and forces her head up until their eyes meet.

"Athaeliel…LOOK AT ME!! Is this what you want? All of these scars…a deformed shell of what your husband used to be…you do not even know the things I was forced to do against my will…" he said in a gruff voice, still holding her face between his hands. She steps closer to him, tears falling down her face. She studies his face and smiles as she traces her fingers along his cheek and neck.

"I am looking at you…your eyes tell me everything I need to know. You claim that all you used to be is gone…but that is a lie you've been telling yourself…a lie the enemy has instilled into your mind…you are worthy of love…especially your wife's…" she said.

"You have no idea the atrocities I have committed…the foul unspeakable things the enemy made me do…" he replies.

"None of that matters to me, meleth nìn…I am bound to you and you to me…I could feel the faint light of your fäe all of these centuries I've searched for you….and I know a part of you can still feel mine…" she says. He closes his eyes and tries to give her a weak smile. He cups her face in his hand…his lips trembling.

"...there has not been a day since our parting that I have not thought of you…longed for you…wanted you near me…your absence was almost as torturous as my servitude to the dark one…I have always felt your fäe…however faint it was…I never expected to see you again…and I was afraid…" he says through his tears.

"Afraid that I wouldn't want you…when I saw what you were…" she said, completing his sentence. He nods slowly and pulls her close to him, their torsos touching. Stroking her hair and the side of her face, he smiles and tilts his head.

"Do you…still want me?..." He asks, his voice shaking.

"More than anything in this world…" she replies. He leans his head in closer to hers and stares at the features of her face for a moment. She places her hands around the back of his head, weaving her hands through his black hair. She pulls his head down until his lips touch hers. He chuckles mischievously and allows her to do so. He kisses her passionately, tears of joy and relief rolling down his cheeks. He cradles her head in his hand and wraps his other arm around her waist as they continue their tender moment together.

They pause for a moment, their cheeks still damp from weeping.

"To have you in my arms again….when I thought our goodbye at the gate was our last…calad nìn….I have not felt such joy in a long time…" says Adar.

"I….I've missed you…," she says. He kisses the top of her head and pulls her in for a warm embrace.

"As have I…Athaeliel…as have I…" he says. She tucks her head under his chin and rests her cheek on his chest armor. They stand there for a few minutes, loose ash from the eruption swirling around them in the wind.

She looks up at him with a longing glance that he recognizes. He smiles and shakes his head.

"Not here, calad nìn…soon…I promise…come…we have much to talk about…" says Adar. He takes her hand and walks with her through the length of dead trees that used to be a forest.

#Adar #Uruk #Adar Fanfiction #Adar Fanfic #ROP #ROP fanfiction #Moriondor #rings of power #Joseph Mawle #oren #Tolkien #lord of the rings

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bluejaysandblackbats · 11 months ago

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A Yellow Ribbon

Fandom: DC Comics, Young Justice, Flashfam, Superfam

Summary: Conner's been best friends with Bart ever since they met at the carnival when they were children. The problem is that Bart can't remember meeting Conner that night. But Thad does...

Chapters: 7/?

Characters: Clark Kent, Conner Kent, Lois Lane, Bart Allen, Thaddeus Thawne, Don Allen, Meloni Allen, Jonathan "Pa" Kent, Martha Kent, Max Crandall

Relationships: KonBart, KonThad, Clois, MelonixDon, Ma/Pa Kent

Additional Tags: No Powers AU, Mistaken Identity, Possibly Unrequited Love, Unrequited Crush, Twins, Lies, Stolen Moments, Unconventional Love Triangles, Misunderstandings, Childhood Friends, Complicated Relationships, Family Dynamics, Family Bonding, Best Friends, Secret Crush, Autistic Bart Allen, Autistic Thad Thawne, Thaddeus Thawne Gets a Hug, Conner Kent-centric, Bisexual Conner Kent, Conner Kent Needs a Hug, Third Person POV, Hurt Clark Kent, Boys in Love, Friendship/Love, Farm/Ranch AU, Farmboy Conner Kent, Grandparents and Grandchildren, Unconventional Families, Unconventional Relationship, Romance, Light Angst, Strangers to Lovers, Cyrano, Jewish Superfam

Chapter Seven: Crunchy Foods

Thad sat on Don's lap at the computer, playing a reading game. “Bart said he reads my letter every day,” Thad whispered, “And he says he's feeling better… That's not true, is it?"

"I can't speak on what Bartholomew's feeling. I only know what Dad and the doctors tell me," Don replied. He didn't want to cry in front of Thad, but he was one question away from breaking down.

Thad stopped playing and looked Don in the eye. "Bart promised he won't die. I'm gonna get smart and cure Bart when I grow up, so he's gotta live that long. It'll be okay, Daddy. I promise," Thad reassured him. Don sat Thad on the computer desk and touched foreheads with him. A soft laugh escaped his mouth as tears streamed down his cheeks. The water droplets hit Thad's lap as he patted Don's back. "Don't worry, Daddy." Don's tears built to a full-bodied sob. Don shook violently at the thought of losing Bart. He couldn’t tell Thad that Bart had to be intubated again. His chest ached, his head throbbed as he open-mouthed wept in front of his youngest child.

Meloni came as soon as she heard her husband's sobs. "Donnie? Donald," Meloni whispered. She clutched the fabric of her skirt in a white-knuckle grip. "Starshine, baby. What's wrong?"

"Daddy's sad. He doesn't understand," Thad mumbled, "Bart promised not to die because I'm gonna cure him when we're older." Meloni's breath caught, and she forced an uneasy smile.

"He promised you that?" Meloni asked. The boys had such a complicated relationship but loved each other so much. Meloni feared that Thad would have to grow up without his twin. "Thad, Bart can't make such a big promise. I'm sure he wants to, but-."

Don looked up, shaking his head. His face was a red, shiny mess. All tears, a runny nose, and the sheen of late summer sweat… Don pleaded with his swollen, bloodshot, sleepless eyes for his son's last shreds of innocence and hope. Don pulled Thad into his arms and showered him in kisses. "You are so kind," Don whispered. He pulled away, cradling his son's face in a soft oil pastel artist's hands, and they stared into each other's eyes. "There's no one in this world like you. You are made for amazing things no matter what happens… Okay?" Thad nodded. "Do you understand? Daddy needs to know you understand."

"I do, Daddy… But I am gonna save Bart," Thad insisted, "I finished my game. Can I have my snack now?"

"Yes," Meloni replied. He kissed Don and nearly ran past Meloni. He stopped to kiss one of her fists. She loosened her grip instinctively. "Mommy will be right there to pour your milk."

Thad nodded, leaving his parents alone in their living grief. "Thaddeus is six years old. He doesn't need to feel what we feel every day. Hope is all he has," Don sniffed.

"This is going to crush him-."

"But not now. Right now, Thad’s a six-year-old boy full of hope and dreams… And he only knows that he is meant to spend the rest of his life with the person he came into this world with," Don explained, “Thaddeus doesn’t need to know-.”

Thad returned, holding a Trix Yogurt. “Can I have this and a Danimals?” Thad asked. Meloni crouched beside him.

“Two stalks of celery first. You have to chew something, sweetheart. I know you like soft foods, but strong teeth need crunchy foods,” Meloni whispered.

Thad pouted. “Then can I have a corndog instead, Daddy?” Thad questioned.

“Okay, but you gotta eat something crunchy for me. A little bit of lettuce? You used to like lettuce,” Don whispered. Thad hadn’t eaten anything solid since Bart went to the hospital. “We’ll even do bird-fingers.”

Thad looked at Meloni, and she nodded. “I’ll put the corndog in the oven. Do you want to work with Daddy, or do you want to cook with me?” Meloni asked. Thad looked at Don and back at her. “I can always come and watch you work with Daddy after.” Thad loved them both equally, but he knew Don understood his connection to Bart better than anyone. “Watch Daddy for me? He gets lost so easily. If he wanders off, put him in your pocket for me.” Thad giggled as Meloni blew him a kiss.

Don pulled his sketchbook off the shelf and grabbed Thad’s as well. “Hey, I’ve got a secret… I’ve got a crush on your mommy,” Don whispered.

“What’s a crush?” Thad asked.

Don playfully looked around. “I want to hold hands with your mommy,” Don replied.

“You hold Mommy’s hand all the time,” Thad laughed. Don grabbed oil pastels from the bookcase and rolled into Thad, and Thad giggled, pushing him away playfully.

Meloni finished making lunch and joined Don and Thad in the office. They sat on the floor, and Meloni hand-fed Thad lettuce. “Mmm! Isn’t it yummy, Starshine?” Meloni asked. Thad nodded.

The phone rang, and Thad ran to the kitchen to answer it. “Hello, Allen residence. Thaddeus Allen, speaking,” Thad answered.

“Spike! I need you to do me a favor, okay?” Barry whispered.

“Okay, Grandpa. What is it?” Thad questioned.

“Go tell your mommy and daddy that Bart woke up and that he might get out of the hospital in a few days if he’s well enough,” Barry answered, “But wait… Sparky wanted to talk to you first.”

Thad stood on his tiptoes and held his breath. “Hi, Stinky,” Bart mumbled. His voice was faint, but Thad heard his hoarse tremble in his speech.

“Hi, Smelly,” Thad sniffed, trying not to cry, but the tears came without warning.

“Don’t cry… It’s okay. I’m okay,” Bart rasped, “I love you, Stinky.”

“I love you,” Thad wept, “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry you don’t feel good.”

“I’m okay… I’m getting better. That’s what Grandpa told you,” Bart reassured him, “I miss you every day.”

“I miss you more,” Thad sniffed, “Do you wanna talk to Mommy and Daddy?”

“Uh-huh… But can you tell Mommy and Daddy I’m feeling better? You have to stop crying first,” Bart commanded gently. He hated when Thad cried because it was his voice. They felt like his tears.

Thad took three deep breaths and dried his face with a paper towel. “Okay,” Thad replied, “I’m okay.”

Thad took the phone into the office and set it beside him. “Mommy… Daddy… Bart’s awake, and he says he feels better. Grandpa and Bart wanted me to tell you that before he talked to you,” Thad mumbled. He shut his eyes as he put the phone on speaker. Thad didn’t want to start crying in front of their parents. It was bad enough that Barry had to hear him fall apart over the phone. He always held everything in, but hearing Bart that way killed something inside him. Bart always put on a brave face, but Thad could feel his brother’s hurt. More than anyone would ever know.

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 2 years ago

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The Shielded Heart - Part Two

Warnings: Smut, angst. Word count: 2.2k

Summary: Aemond is yours and you are his, but what happens when you're both forced to choose between duty and true love?

“I do not love you. I do not love you. I do not love you.”

Aemond’s words echoed on repeat in your head, as you folded the pillow over your head. A feeble attempt to drown the words out, as your body curled in on itself in an effort to soften the impact of the racking sobs that plagued your body. You’d never known emotional pain could create such an extreme physical response. You were in agony both literally and figuratively.

Sleep had not come for you that night. Upon fleeing from Aemond’s harsh rebuttal you’d thrown yourself onto your bed, muffling your cries with the bedclothes.

Across the Red Keep, Aemond had faired no better. He’d considered taking Vhagar and leaving King’s Landing. He couldn’t stand the idea that you were crying in the same vicinity as him and there was nothing he could do to comfort you; he was the cause of your upset. He’d changed his mind upon realising he couldn’t remember the last time he’d flown on dragonback without you. The thought of mounting Vhagar and not being able to hug you tightly to his chest or bury his nose in your hair as he whispered sweet nothings to you in High Valyrian made him feel hollow. He sat heavily in the armchair beside the now burned out fireplace, clutching the needlepoint you’d made for him all those years ago. Everything was going to feel empty without you. He hadn’t noticed he was crying until wet droplets began to spatter upon the embroidery he held in his hands.

“Time to wake up!” your handmaiden chirruped, as she swept into your bedchambers.

Of course you hadn’t slept, so there was no waking up. You simply laid flat on your back, staring up at the canopy. You’d cried yourself out hours ago and had since just been laying there, eyes raw, completely numb to everything around you.

The handmaiden moved to the side of the bed, gently touching your arm. “We must get you ready. Today is an important day! You’re to meet your betrothed, you must be excited…goodness, my lady, you look positively awful. Are you well?!” Her excited babbling morphed to shocked concern as you continued to lay there.

There was a niggle of dread in your gut at the mention of “your betrothed”. Had you not been emotionally spent you would have told the maid to leave you, there’d be no betrothal today, you’d sooner feed yourself to Vhagar. Instead you groaned, throwing your legs over the side of the bed. “Fine” you muttered darkly.

“Gods”, you thought, “Today is going be fucking awful.”

After you’d been scrubbed raw in the bath, cinched into a gown that felt much too tight and had your hair intricately braided into a style that pulled painfully at your scalp, you were guided to the courtyard. Your father and the Targaryen/Hightower family already stood gathered to greet the impending arrival of the Lannisters.

Aemond’s eye darted to meet yours as you passed and you were quick to look away. The sight of him sent renewed waves of pain rippling through your chest and the beginnings of fresh tears prickled threateningly around your eyeballs. Better not to look at him lest you fall apart.

Aemond inhaled sharply at your quick dismissal of him, casting his gaze down sadly to focus on the floor. He wasn’t expecting you to run into his arms, but the lack of familiarity between the two of you made him ache.

The jab of an elbow in his side brought his attention to his older brother, Aegon. “Nevermind, brother”, he muttered with a smirk, “Plenty more whores where she came from.”

“Shut up”, Aemond glowered, his nostrils flared angrily as he reached for the pommel of his dagger.

“Behave. Both of you.” Alicent hissed, immediately halting Aemond’s grab for his weapon, as Aegon stood up straighter, the smile disappearing from his face.

You took your place beside your father in the semi circular formation your respective houses had created. It felt like you were playing witness to your own execution. The sense of impending doom made your limbs feel heavier. Surely this had to be a dream? Nothing this dreadful could ever possibly be reality.

“I trust you’ve regained your senses, dear daughter?” your father smiled.

“Hmmm.” You replied curtly.

He ignored your dismissive tone, smiling fondly down at you. “You look beautiful.”

“A trussed up sow awaiting trade at the farmer’s market” you muttered.

You father blinked rapidly, sniffing and turning his attention elsewhere. It was painfully apparent he would hear none of your objections.

From your position you were stood directly opposite Aemond, the both of you bringing up the end of each side of the horseshoe shape the welcoming party had gathered into.

He took the opportunity to study you discreetly. You’d look absolutely stunning, were it not for the sullen look on your face. He longed to kiss your sadness away, and unwind the braids from your hair. That was how he preferred you; when you hair was wild and spread out like a halo around your head, your doe eyes blown wide with lust and your lips parted and kiss swollen as you lay beneath him. He’d never see you like that again though. Instead that view would be someone else’s. He winced at the thought.

The Lannister banners of gold appeared, heralding the arrival of Jason and his travelling party. As he rode into the courtyard you were instantly struck by the aura of smugness that radiated from him. Objectively, he was handsome, but in your mind no one could compare to Aemond and you found yourself recoiling from his rounded features, so used to the sharpness of your former lover’s.

Once he’d dismounted from his horse and the necessary pleasantries and introductions were made, Jason turned his attentions to you and your father.

“My lord, you honour me by offering your daughter’s hand in marriage. She is truly more beautiful than I had imagined.”

You suppressed the urge to roll your eyes as your father stepped forward, clapping Jason on the back.

“Your betrothal is truly a blessing on all of our houses”, the older man said warmly.

“My lady”, Jason smiled, stepping closer to you, “I look forward to getting to know you better.”

He was much too close to you for Aemond’s liking. He clenched his fists, muttering “pompous arse” under his breath.

This earned a tittering laugh from Aegon and, in turn, a reproachful stare from Alicent.

“Aegon!” she scolded as quietly as she could, “You are king, behave like it.”

“But Aemond…”

“Enough!”

Aegon huffed, straightening his crown and shrugging off Helaena’s sympathetic pat to his arm.

“Lord Lannister, we are so pleased to have you with us”, Alicent said, turning her attention back to the Red Keep’s guests, “We’ll be holding a dinner tonight in your honour. For now we’ll let you get settled in so that you may begin your courtship in haste.”

“I’ll be in my chambers”, you snapped to no one in particular, before turning on your heel and walking back inside.

Aemond couldn’t help but stare after you, as the crowd broke off, the formal greeting coming to its end. Once more he found himself longing to chase after you. To take you in his arms, take you away from all of this on the back of Vhagar.

His mother’s comforting grip on his forearm brought him back to the present reality. “For the good of the family” she reminded him as she looked up at him with eyes full of love and kindness.

“Mmmm” he mumbled, pulling away and heading towards the training yard. He desperately needed to let off some steam.

Despite an hour’s worth of sparring with Ser Criston Cole, Aemond’s mind never strayed far from thoughts of you. It made his reactions slow, his strikes sloppy and the knight was able to disarm him almost half a dozen times.

Aemond grunted in frustration, throwing his sword towards the ground.

“Perhaps we ought to take a break?” Criston suggested.

About to agree, the sudden approach of Jason distracted Aemond’s attention. He was quick to retrieve his sword, regarding the Lannister with careful suspicion.

“Prince Aemond, Ser Criston”, he greeted, “I wondered if you’d care to spar? I had hoped to spend some time with my betrothed, but it would appear she is otherwise engaged.”

Aemond felt pure, unadulterated rage flood through his veins at Jason’s mention of you. His grip tightened upon his sword. “Certainly”, he agreed, no trace of warmth in his voice.

Jason was quick to retreat against Aemond’s forceful swings, the dragon was certainly getting the better of the lion in this fight.

“Iksā nākostōbā! skorkydoso kessa ao mīsagon aōha ābrazȳrys?!” Aemond snarled, knocking Jason off of his feet with a well-aimed strike. You are weak! How will you protect your wife?!

As Jason lay prone on the ground, Aemond stared down at him, his eye wide, he panted heavily, sword pointed directly at the Lannister’s throat. “Issa tolī sȳz syt ao! issa ñuhon! ñuhon!” She is too good for you! She is mine! Mine!

Realising that Aemond had no plans to stop, Criston intervened, pulling Aemond from a bewildered looking Jason. “Enough! Think of what your mother would say!”

Aemond forcefully shrugged Criston from him, storming back towards the Keep without another word.

“Apologies, Lord Lannister”, Criston said, helping the man to his feet, “Blood of the dragon flows hot in that one.”

After a day of sulking in your chambers and refusing to see anyone, you’d finally been forced out for dinner at the insistence of your father.

Your food sat untouched on the plate in front of you as you watched Jason’s behaviour at the table, the faintest trace of disgust impossible to disguise on your features.

His hand lingered too long at the small of the back of the serving girl each time she moved to refill his goblet. He was keeping pace with Aegon for cups of wine drank and you were sure you’d overheard him whisper for the girl to attend to him in his chambers once the meal was over.

Jason’s salacious behaviour had not escaped the notice of Aemond either. He glared daggers at the golden haired Lion the entire evening, however, he was too far in his cups to notice.

“A toast!” your father announced, cutting through the tense and awkward atmosphere, “To the happy couple!”

Everyone at the table raised their goblets, with the exception of you and Aemond. Nobody seemed to realise, or if they had they chose not to say anything.

As the sounds of idle chatter resumed, Aegon slyly lifted his goblet in a half toast he knew his mother wouldn’t notice but Aemond would. “A toast”, he whispered, “To Aemond’s sloppy seconds.”

Aemond banged his fist on the table, the room falling silent as all eyes fell upon him. He rose from his seat and for a moment he considered lunging for his older brother and smacking the disrespect from his mouth, until his eye scanned the room taking in the shocked look on your face and the disappointment on his mother’s.

“I’m going to bed”, he said simply, making a swift exit from the dining hall.

“An excellent idea”, Alicent said, trying to restore calm to the room, “Might I suggest we all retire for the evening? It has been a long day and I’m sure Jason is tired from his travels.”

You had no idea when the idea had planted itself in your head, but it had started as a seed and grown over the course of the evening. You were determined to see it through to fruition.

After retiring to your chambers, you’d anxiously paced waiting for the Keep to go quiet. When you were certain everyone would be asleep, you donned your long hooded cloak and crept out through the hidden passageway that Aemond had shown you when you were children.

Descending the stone steps of the Red Keep, you had one destination in mind; Flea Bottom.

Your feet carried you quickly, your heart aflutter as you made your way along the dark and narrow pathway down the hill.

A hand to your mouth stifled your scream as you were spun around and pushed back against a wall.

Your terror widened eyes instantly relaxed upon looking up into Aemond’s face.

You pushed his hand from your mouth, irritated. “What are you doing?!”

“I could ask you the same thing”, he said coolly, “Where are you creeping off to?”

“You may not love me”, you swallowed thickly, trying to keep the emotion from your voice, “But I am not marrying that Lannister prick.”

Aemond’s heart twinged at the first part of your admission. “Avy jorrāelan olvie hen mirros”, he whispered. I love you most of anything.

“In the common tongue, please!” you said exasperatedly, moving from the wall and continuing on your way down the hill.

He sighed. “I said, so what do you intend to do?”

“I’m only of any value as a bargaining tool as long as I still have my virtue. I intend to give it away.”

Part one || Part three || Series masterlist

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