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rafesaddiction · 1 year ago

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It's not cheating when he’s your enemy – Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader

see here for part 2 and here for part 2.5

Summary: Rafe Cameron is the reason why you fought with your boyfriend. Rafe Cameron is the reason why you lost your job. Rafe Cameron is the reason why you moan and whimper shamelessly.

Concept: enemies, hate sex

Warnings: mdni! – smut, hate sex, rough sex, p in v, violence, choking, spitting (on rafe), cursing, name calling (rafe calls reader whore), cheating (reader cheats on boyfriend), mean!rafe

Word count: 3.9k

“How about a smile with that, hm?” Rafe Cameron grinned at you as you placed the glass in front of him on the table. Your eyes narrowed and you glared at him, but that smug grin of his only grew wider, and his kook friends sitting at the table with him snickered and watched the scene with amusement.

It was bad enough that you had to work today, not being in the best of moods after a fight with your boyfriend earlier – or more exactly, a fight with your boyfriend and his best friend. But you had to take the evening shift at the Wreck, because your landlord had assured you, he'd kick you out if you were late on the rent again. You needed the money and your cleaning job just didn't pay enough. And usually working at the Wreck was fine. Mike was a fair boss and Anna always had a nice word for you. The tips weren't as generous as at the country club, but the customers were usually much nicer. Well, usually. Not so much tonight.

You had seen – or actually heard them, the moment they had come into the restaurant; the kook prince and his cronies. Not waiting to be seated, they just chose a table and sat down, as if they had a right to do so, as if they were entitled to do anything they wanted. You frowned, when you saw them, having just written down the order from much nicer guests – a tourist couple, who must have been puzzled at your sudden change of attitude. You usually had no problem with keeping a friendly face to customers, or at least look at them in a neutral way, but the moment you saw Rafe Cameron walk in like he owned the place, you just couldn't hide your anger.

And of course, Rafe and his friends had chosen one of your tables. If it hadn't been so busy that night, you might have asked your colleague to swap tables. But as it was, you clenched your teeth and walked over to their table, placing the pitcher with fresh water and glasses on the table, ready to take their order – avoiding looking at them, especially at Rafe.

But his words made you look up from the water jug you held in your hand.

“C’mon, y/n, show us that pretty smile of yours, and I might even give you a nice tip”, the asshole had the audacity to wink at you.

You glared at him, pressing your lips into a thin line. You were fuming. Your hand clenching around the handle of the pitcher. And the blond kook just kept smiling at you his arrogant smile that others might have found charming, which only drove you mad.

So instead of pouring the water into the glasses on the table, you poured the pitcher's whole content onto Rafe Cameron's lap, drenching his expensive pants. – A pity actually that it was only water and not some boiling hot coffee.

Rafe quickly moved back, the chair making a screeching sound on the wooden floor, as he jumped to his feet. Now looking anything but amused, he looked down at himself.

“The fuck?”

And it was your turn to smirk, just a little triumphant smirk, while you glared at him and extended your arm, flipping him the bird, right at his stupid face.

You turned on your heels and walked back to the bar, hearing one of the kook boys say, “dude, she really hates you.” And Rafe replied, “nah, she wants me bad,” which resulted in all of them laughing.

And you growled. You hated those bastards. You hated them so damn much.

Behind the counter, you put down the empty pitcher with a loud thud – even though you felt more like throwing that thing at Rafe.

You tried to compose yourself, you really did, but, of course, Mike had seen what happened. And instead of being on your side and kicking those arrogant kooks out, he came at you, told you to go and apologize.

“I won’t! He’s a fucking asshole, acting like he owns half the island!” You glared at your boss.

“Well, his father does,” Mike said, “now go and apologize and tell him, whatever they order is on the house.”

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, looking at Mike as if he was talking in a different language.

“You apologize or you can leave. For good.” The features on the man's face had become stern.

You should do the reasonable thing, you needed this job. But your temper got the best of you. You were so angry, so damn furious, and Mike taking their side was just too much to take. You literally had enough.

“Screw you,” you snapped, crumpled the cloth you used for cleaning tables and threw it at Mike.

He frowned at you and pointed at the door.

And you walked out, walked out of that damn restaurant in which those fucking kooks were surely laughing at the scene they just witnessed. You were a joke to them. You pogues always were nothing more than a joke to them. It made you furious.

Outside you kicked a random car parked in front of the restaurant, wishing it was Rafe's – but it looked more like some old folks' family car than anything Rafe would drive.

“Fuck ‘em, fuck ‘em all,” you cursed, and your foot hurt, but you kept on walking, stomping actually, blinking angry tears away.

You just had lost your job because of Rafe-fucking-Cameron! The same guy that had been the reason for your fight with your boyfriend earlier that day.

You hated that guy. You had always hated Rafe, but now you hated him more than ever.

This morning, on his usual delivery run for Heyward, your boyfriend had been jumped by Rafe and one of his friends. And they had beaten him up so bad, he had gotten home with a limp, his left eye swollen, his nose bleeding. Seeing him like that hurt so much, you almost cried. His best friend, who was there with you, looked at your boyfriend shocked, and worried, before his quick temper took over. That boy was always short-tempered and would rather act than think. He was furious. While you were attending your boyfriend's wounds, his best friend was pacing the small place, raising his fists, clenching them, rambling on about how he would make Rafe pay for that. He also seemed mad at himself for not having been there for his best friend, not having been able to defend him. So he was more determined now to make it right, as he called it.

He swore revenge and was forming a plan. Usually, they would just try and fight Rafe and his friends at the next opportunity. But this seemed different. And your boyfriend seemed to be hurt more than just by the wounds you could see. You weren't sure, but you had a feeling that something else must have happened with Rafe, something more serious, something hurting not just his body, but his pride too. Because otherwise, your boyfriend would have never agreed to the stupid plan his best friend came up with. Stealing Rafe's dirt bike and sinking it to the bottom of the ocean. It wasn't even a real plan, it was just stupid.

“He'll know that it was you! And he'll have you arrested for it.”

“So what?”

“So what? You can go to jail! Don't be so dumb! You can both go to jail for this and you'll ruin your future just because of some stupid fight!” You yelled at your boyfriend's best friend, but there was no reasoning with him.

But what was worse, your own boyfriend didn't want to see that you were right. He was so infuriated. He had jumped to his feet and was ready to take Rafe and any cop. And he wanted to hurt him, hurt him so bad.

When you tried to talk to him, tried to calm him down, tried to make him see reason, he just shoved you away, and he suddenly seemed angry at you, accusing you of not understanding him. And his best friend accused you of not caring about your own boyfriend. And that fucking hurt. The two of them had always been close, very close, and you sometimes felt a pang of jealousy, because even though you were his girlfriend, it seemed as if there was some part of him you would never fully get.

So you had left the two of them planning their revenge, coming up with some stupid plan that would not make anything right that had been done to your boyfriend or to any of you pogues.

And the thought of that made you furious right now.

You balled your hands into fists, clenching so hard, you felt your nails digging into your palms.

You hadn't paid attention to where you were going when you had stormed out of the Wreck and you had been walking for some time now, anger driving you onwards, as you found yourself close to the Cameron's pier.

Rage was clouding your judgement, but you knew you had to do something, anything. It just couldn't go on like this. Rafe Cameron hurting everyone and destroying everything and just getting away with it.

You didn't have a plan what to do when you broke into the shack where they stored boat stuff and other things. It wasn't the first time you had broken into somewhere, but it was the first time you were on your own. Usually the other pogues would be with you. But you could do this on your own. And you did care about your boyfriend, no matter what his best friend said. You were a pogue just like them.

Inside it was dark and you had to feel your way round, careful not to bump into anything. You used your phone's flashlight to see, but you weren't really sure what you were looking for. Maybe you could find boat keys and take his boat? Stupid plan, but whatever. You had to do something, anything. Goddamn, you hated that guy.

“Anything I can help you with?”

You froze when you heard that dark voice. The lights had suddenly turned on, blinding you for a second. You blinked and saw him. Fuck. Rafe Cameron standing at the door, blocking the only exit. Tilting his head to the side, he looked right at you.

“What you doing here?” You couldn't help but ask, even though you knew it was a dumb question, but you were genuinely puzzled. He had just been at the Wreck with his friends – getting you fired – and now he was here of all places?

“This is MY property. What the hell are you doing here?”

Fuck, he was right. You wouldn't admit it, but he had a point. And suddenly you were questioning your own reason. It was such a stupid idea, breaking in here. All you wanted now was to get out, get away as fast as possible before Rafe would call the cops. So instead of answering, you darted for the exit as he moved a few steps into the room. But he was quicker, stepped to the side, so you almost crashed right into him.

He caught you, his big hand wrapping around your arm. You flinched at how tight his grip was.

“Fuck, let me go!” You tried to wriggle out of his grip, and hit his chest with your free hand.

Rafe grabbed your other arm too, pulling you closer to his much larger body.

“Let go, asshole!” You yelled at him, not giving up your fighting yet, though it seemed impossible to free yourself from his grip.

“Won't do. You broke into my property and stole something from me.” He glared down at you, his eyes narrowed – the blue in them reminded you of the sky on the day before the hurricane hit the island a few weeks ago.

“I didn't take anything!” Your voice strained and you were panting from your struggling.

He raised his eyebrows as he glared at you.

“A liar and a thief. I'll check for myself what you took.”

He let go off one of your arms, just to use his free hand to grip your waist, pulling you against his body, his broad chest pressing against your upper body, so close, you could hardly move your free arm between the bodies.

But his hand didn't rest, he was touching, grabbing, tugging, actually patting you down.

His large hand found your ass and that intimate touch caused a different kind of sensation. Something much hotter.

You wriggled in his arms, making your bodies only rub harder against each other.

“Fuck, let go!” You hissed, as breathing became harder.

You tried to kick him, but couldn't really lift your leg, you were too close to his overpowering body.

“Fucking asshole!” You spat at him.

And Rafe's hand gripped your jaws, so hard, you winced. Your mouth opening as you gasped.

Instead of tasting the air, you felt his lips crushing down on yours as he had suddenly closed the space and was kissing you, kissing you fiercely and hard.

Your eyes fluttered close. For a moment you were completely taken aback, overwhelmed by this unexpected intimate touch, a kiss so fierce and rough you had never tasted before.

It only lasted a second, and you pushed him away, pushed yourself away from him enough, so you could move your arm, and you smacked his cheek so hard, his head whipped to the side.

Obviously surprising him, he let go off you, rubbing his cheek, and looking at you as if in disbelief. His mouth opened, those lips you had just felt on yours.

And you stood there two steps away, chest heaving, panting, glaring, fuming, feeling that tingling on your lips, feeling that throbbing pain from his touch on your arms, feeling his presence so strongly, feeling this incredible heat in your own body, something hotter than rage coursing through your veins, feeling that sudden pull.

You lunged forward, and he just gazed at you, and your hands gripped around his neck as you pulled yourself up, legs wrapping around his waist, and your mouth meeting his in an angry kiss.

Rafe reacted in an instant, kissing you back, even fiercer than before. It felt like he was devouring you. And you couldn't help but moan into the kiss, as you rocked your hips against his. But the friction you caused with your fervent movements wasn't enough to make that throbbing between your legs stop. Both his hands grabbed your ass, gripped it like it was something that belonged to him, only to him. It made you furious, and clenching with need.

Your hands grabbed his hair, pulling at it. He growled in response, right into your open mouth. Pushing his tongue in, he claimed that too.

The heels of your feet dug into his back, as you pulled yourself closer to him. Feeling his hard cock pressing against you made you mutter the most embarrassing sounds, hardly muffled by his greedy kiss.

Suddenly he moved and you felt how your ass hit something.

The kiss broke and you hissed as you found yourself on a workbench, cluttered with all kinds of tools, which Rafe shoved away with his arm, making them clatter on the floor, before setting you down on the surface.

You braced yourself with your elbows on the bench, looking up at Rafe, who impatiently tugged down your shorts and panties. Your sandals dropped to the floor as well.

You tried to get up and grab his shirt to pull it off of him, but he pushed you back down on the bench, making you flinch at his roughness and at the same time you felt your legs opening for him, as you saw him take that shirt off himself. You couldn't help but gaze at his muscles. His body was so well-shaped, it was ridiculous how he could be real.

Your attention was directed further down, as you heard him unzip his pants.

You were only able to catch a glimpse of his cock, but it was enough to make you gasp – he was huge – before he pushed into you.

The sudden pain made you cry out. Your eyes going back into your head as you felt so incredibly full. You didn't even try to suppress your shameless moans as he ruthlessly thrust into you. Your walls clamping, the feeling became so intense, your body was shivering while you were burning up.

You heard Rafe's animalistic growl and that sound drove your own lust even further.

His hand at the back of your neck, he pulled you up, his lips hovering over yours, his hot breath mingling with yours.

Rafe pulled you closer, and as he fucked you, your ass was pressed against the edge of the bench, surely leaving bruises.

But you left bruises and marks on his body too. Your hands grabbing, your nails scratching his back. When he kissed you, you bit him, feeling how he tensed up and go harder on you. You felt your climax approaching, felt your body burning up with need, clenching so hard around him.

And he must have felt it too, because you could sense something shift. But instead of giving you what you wanted, giving you what your body so desperately needed, he grinned into the messy kiss and suddenly pulled out. You gazed at him, your face flushed, your lips sore from those biting kisses, and you were so surprised that it was easy for him to unwrap himself off your legs.

Your naked feet touched the cold floor and you could hardly stand. But you didn't have too.

Before you could question what the hell he was doing, he grabbed you, turned you around and bent you over the workbench.

You exhaled an angry breath and your hands clawed at the surface of the bench, while he turned your head sideways and pressed down on it, your cheek on the rough wood. You tried to look up at him, but couldn't move your head to see properly. But you didn't need to see what he was doing, you could feel it a few seconds later.

Your legs were spread and a rough hand rubbed between them. You were soaking wet. You had been wet from the moment his lips had claimed yours. You had no time to get annoyed at how that must have amused him, because the next moment, he was taking your breath away as his thick cock thrust into you. Harder and deeper now. You wouldn't have believed that to be possible, but he was fucking you now with even more of that rough and ruthless vigor. He was quite literally using you, as his cock was hammering into you. Your body trembled and shuddered and you moaned and whimpered and you were so far gone.

Rafe took you as if you were his, as if he could use you as he pleased – and you wanted nothing else than to be used by him in that moment.

Your walls clenching so hard around him, you felt fuller than possible.

But despite being at his mercy, despite having turned into his fucktoy, despite your traitorous body enjoying being used like that, you couldn't help yourself.

One hand reached back, touching his hip.

“Harder,” you urged him, panting. “Harder,” you repeated, breathlessly, as if you didn't already feel like you might pass out any minute, because it was too much, because your body couldn't possible take anymore.

He growled. And the sound made you shudder.

And you almost regretted your words, but at the same time, you felt your clit throbbing, your whole body buzzing with a need you had never felt before.

His arm wrapped around your neck from behind and he pulled you up, pulled you up standing on your toes, your back arching. The back of your head against his shoulder. His arm pressed against your throat, making it hard to breathe and impossible to speak. You could only whine as he slammed into from behind. Your fingernails digging into his arm's hard muscle, while your eyes fluttered shut.

You lost it all, all sense of reason and self control, as he fucked you through your earth-shattering orgasm. Fucked you relentlessly. Fucked you without restrained. Fucked you into oblivion.

You were undone and he kept going. Taking you without mercy, using you. And when he gasped and you felt him push so deep inside you, hitting a spot yet untouched, another wave rolled over you. You hadn't felt it building up, but it was like your body was synced with his, and the moment he came inside you, spilling his load deep into you, your walls clenched around him, as if trying to hold him there, and you came, harder this time, with him.

When he pulled out and let go off you, you just collapsed forward onto the workbench. Coughing, finally able to breathe, you tried to regain your senses.

Your legs were trembling and you could already feel his cum dripping out of you, running down your thigh.

You weren't sure if your eyes were closed or open, as you still just saw stars dancing in front of your eyes.

The sound of a low chuckle behind you made you finally able to return to reality – and realize your exposed position, bent over the workbench, your legs spread, your ass up, cum dripping out of your throbbing pussy.

You groaned as you pushed yourself up and turned. Every fucking muscle in your body hurt. You knew you would be sore for days. And when you caught that smirk on Rafe's face as he put on his shirt watching you with that glint in his eyes, you knew he was thinking the same.

You smoothed your rumpled top, crouched down to pick up your shorts. Somehow you couldn't find your panties between all those tools scattered on the floor, so you pulled on your shorts without panties. You flinched at the friction the rough fabric caused. You'd definitely be sore for days.

Frowning, you slipped into your sandals.

Your eyes moved over to Rafe. He was fully dressed and despite his somewhat heavy breathing and the sweat glistening on his forehead, he seemed all composed as he was leaning against another workbench opposite of you, just a few feet away. His hair a mess though, you noted with a certain kind of satisfaction.

A smirk danced around his lips as he watched you trying to comb your own hair with your fingers.

“What?” You frowned at him.

He shrugged, pushed himself off the bench and slowly came closer.

“Just realized, it's true what they say.”

Your frown deepened as you glared at him questioningly.

“The filthiest whores come from the Cut.”

You spat right at his face.

“Fucking asshole,” you hissed and turned to leave. From the corner of your eyes you could see how he wiped away your spit from his cheek, and looked at it, chuckling in amusement.

You didn't turn when you walked through the door. You tried not to show it, but each step hurt like hell. And what was worse, your core was aching with need.

a/n: thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. Comments, reblogs, likes, and any kind of feedback are very welcome. You may also have a guess who the reader's boyfriend might be. And his best friend...

This is the start of a concept series of oneshots.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe fanfiction #drew starkey #rafe cameron x reader #dark rafe cameron #obx #outer banks #rafe x you #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #toxic relationship #smut fic #obx fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe x y/n

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wileys-russo · 4 months ago

Note

Hoy

"I challenge you to a duel "with pollito/barca femeni at the ikea/training ground

part of the pollito universe the duel II barça femeni

"ow! puta." you hissed, rubbing your shin where mapi had rammed it with the trolley, lunging at her before a hand grabbed the back of your hoodie halting you.

"behave kärlek, we are in a public setting." frido warned sternly as your eyes bugged in disbelief. "but she just-" you tried to defend yourself as the tall swede shut you down with a firm look, letting go of you as you mumbled you'd behave.

your eyes narrowed into a glare as mapi smiled smugly, walking side by side with ingrid who was clearly trying to plan out what was needed, pinching her girlfriend whose attention immediately returned to her.

"por favor can i-" you started to ask, spotting a cool looking lamp in one of the display sections. "no." frido answered right away, not even turning to look as she continued on ahead.

"frido!" you huffed, hurrying to catch up with her long legs. "alexia said you came here with them last week and you don't need anything else." the blonde chuckled with a smile, arm falling across your shoulders as you groaned.

"nobody lets me do what i want. i'm not a little kid!" you huffed making frido laugh. "of course not den lilla." the swede cooed sarcastically pinching your cheek rather sharply as you grunted and wrenched her hand away.

"well why am i even here if i 'don't need anything'?" you mocked, shrugging off frido's arm and shoving your hands into the pockets of your hoodie. "because they made me come, and i do not wish to be a third wheel all day, so i made you come to keep me company." the defender answered with a grin.

"frido! kom och titta." ingrid called, inspecting several different throw pillow options as the blonde pinched your cheek again and hurried off to catch up with the norweigan before you could hit her.

"so much for company." you grumbled to yourself.

mapi was across the aisle inspecting a large wooden bookshelf, clearly trying to measure its length using her forearm which was not working well as you made your way over, the opportunity presenting itself all too easily.

you kicked at the back of her knee, hitting it at the right angle to send her falling down to the ground as you snickered and she just caught herself, head whipping around to glare at you.

"get off maría!" you whined as she grabbed you in a headlock, messing up your hair as you fought to shove her away, swearing at the older girl under your breath whose arm only tightened its hold on you.

"hey!" you both paused, ingrid stood a few feet away with arms folded across her chest and eyebrows knitted into an unimpressed scowl. "pollito started it!" mapi protested, pushing you away and tutting as you swung at her and she ducked with a grin.

"i do not care who started it. act your age maría-" you snickered at that, whining as the girl rolled the trolley over your foot. "oh lo siento pequeña, un accidente." mapi cooed with a sarcastic pout as your eyes narrowed.

"vamos, i am not getting lost in here." mapi grabbed the trolley and nodded for you to follow, hurrying after the two scandi's who were already a good hundred metres ahead.

"whats on your list?" you asked a few minutes later, annoyance already forgotten as boredom had kicked in and you leaned your body into mapi hugging her who chuckled, tilting her phone toward you.

"dios mío your list is almost as boring as ale's." you rolled your eyes as she flicked your ear fondly. "we had to get photo frames, clothes pegs, a cutting board, a new blanket for the couch, a water jug!" you groaned at the memory, not even having been allowed to walk through the display section like you'd wanted to but dragged right to the shopping hall.

olga had at least taken pity on you and bought you all lunch at the cafeteria afterwards, and pretended not to notice when you tossed a few things that were not on her girfriends list into the cart, alexia a woman on a mission.

but that didn't stop the blonde from questioning the pair of you on every single choice despite already knowing in her mind which she preferred, sending you daggers every time you'd groan loudly and verbally express your boredom, catching the attention of fellow shoppers who looked on with disapproval.

"oye pollito, which one?" you slid your phone into your pocket and looked up at mapi's voice, eyebrows creasing as she held up two near identical coaster sets. "mapi...they're the same." you sighed with a shake of your head as she scoffed.

"no. look this one has stripes that go yellow, orange, red. this one has stripes that go red, orange, yellow!" the spaniard exclaimed as you rolled your eyes and grabbed one, turning it over and handing it back to her as she paused.

"oh. they are the same." she shrugged, tossing both of them into the cart as you wanted to pull your hair out but refrained, instead silently screaming behind her back as you dragged your feet and followed after her into the kitchen section.

"hey pay attention! this is important work." your phone was snatched out of your hand and slipped into frido's pocket as she passed, having stepped away to call her fiance before hurrying to catch up with ingrid and taking your phone with her despite your protests.

"nena." you looked over with a bored expression toward mapi who suddenly threw a wooden spoon at you, chuckling as you missed it by a mile and it clattered to the floor quite loudly.

"cata would have caught that." the defender tutted with a smirk as you flipped her off and picked it up. "no no, keep it. you will need it!" mapi warned as you went to put it down, giving her an odd look as she glanced around to make sure the two of you were mostly alone.

"why? i hate cooking and ale has like five of these." you frowned in confusion as mapi's cheeky grin only grew. "because, i challenge you to a duel." mapi held her own wooden spoon up as if it was a sword as your face lit up.

"oh you are on león." you grinned, matching her position as she counted down. "vaya!" she announced, launching at you as you laughed and smacked her wooden spoon away with her own, the two of you ducking and lunging at one another as your spoons clacked and smacked.

"bah! vale, match point." mapi huffed as your spoon poked at her chest again. "vaya!" she lunged again as you ducked and rolled suddenly, causing her to stumble forward not aware of her own momentum as she tripped and went flying into a crate of measuring cups.

the spoon fell from your hand as it hurried to cover your mouth, watching on with wide eyes as the walls of the crate shook and creaked before snapping, mapi sailing away on a wave of kitchen ware and an almighty noise thundered through the air as footsteps hurried and a crowd formed.

you held your hands up in defense and stepped back as a worker began to question what happened, acting as if you had no idea who mapi was or what happened as the defender gasped at your betrayal.

but you winced as hands fell to your shoulder and you knew who it was before she even spoke, ingrid appearing shortly afterwards as frido stood firmly behind you, hands gripping your shoulders in warning not to move.

"amor there is something you must know..."

mapi's mouth opened and closed trying to finish her sentence as fear set into her gaze at the withering glare coming from her girlfriends eyes as she held up a finger and pointed right at you.

"...this was all pollitos fault!"

#pollito #woso community #woso x reader #woso #barca femeni x reader #mapi leon x reader #fridolina rolfö x reader #ingrid engen x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs

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themotherofhorses · 2 years ago

Note

Handmaid!reader and Aemond having a picnic with Vhagar in the background and playing with their children.

pairing: aemond targaryen x handmaid!reader

notes: dad!aemond makes my ovaries hurt so fucking much.

his handmaid's tales | main masterlist

The morning of their planned family picnic dawned bright and sunny, with only a few puffy white clouds scattered across the sky. Such a perfect summer day, and his twin boys were beyond excited, nothing more than a pair of pups bouncing and wagging and yapping at their sire’s feet. Large, twinkling violet eyes and small pouts they gave him, and he could not say no to them.

So Aemond called for a royal cook to pack them a lunch before telling his sweet girl to dress comfortable, in one of the pretty and thin dresses he had tailored for outside events.

At midday, they settle outside King’s Landing, along the Blackwater Rush, tucked within a flowered grove with cool green grass and shade. The currents are wicked and treacherous, they warn their children. Do not venture too close, lest you be drowned in the waters.

But the boys are too taken with Vhagar, who slumbers behind them, to care the slightest about the river.

His handmaid sits beside him, upon the thick fleeced blanket, nursing their new daughter at her breast. Her back is to their sons, but Aemond has a feeling she’s aware of their every move around his dragon. Mother’s instincts. But gods, she’s so pretty in the sunlight, he thinks, with her arms filled with his own, and he’s stricken with lovesickness once again.

“Sweet, isn’t it?” Aemond asks.

She lifts her head to look at him. “Hm?” Her voice is soft, airy and calm. “What is sweet?”

He gestures around them, to their woven picnic basket and the great rushing river, and their children and the beauties of the land. Scattered about the blanket is half a suckling pig and buttered turnips and a piping nutty bread loaf, as well as a pigeon pie, at the request of their twins. “Everything in this very moment.” He lifts his chalice to his lips, taking a quick sip of his mead.

“It is peaceful, quiet, and just our family- the way it should be. We ought to do this more. There is no need to worry about bloodshed and wagging tongues and wandering eyes. It’s just us.”

We’re husband and wife, he wants to add, but instead remains silent.

The elm, the alder, and the black cottonwood see us as nothing more, and nothing less.

She smiles. “Yes, my prince,” she agrees, before glancing back down, to stroke their daughter’s browbone with her thumb, and coo at the little noises. Alysanne, they named her, after her own grandmother and the Good Queen Alysanne. She had been born during the early springtime, while a thunderstorm raged outside, and her father wept tears of joy inside. She has her mother’s features, to his delight.

“Ah, well, it seems you were quite hungry, my little one,” she tells the babe, giggling.

“She’s a dragon, my love. Perhaps she wishes to grow as big and strong as Vhagar.”

“Maybe.”

Aemond snags two pieces of the bread and hands her one, before plopping the other in his mouth. It’s still warm on his tongue, and he can taste the sweet walnuts and hazelnuts, and the pumpkin and oat seeds.

It’s then that one of their boys- the youngest of the two, Aenar, creeps behind his father, before flinging his arms around his neck. “Hello, father,” he whispers, nuzzling his plump face against Aemond’s cheek. Aemion slides next to his mother, kissing her on the cheek. Both boys are red-cheeked and bubbling with breathless laughter, clutching their tiny wooden stick swords in their hands.

Their mother clicks her tongue. “Are you thirsty?” she asks, reaching for the water jug. “And look at you! All sweaty and soiled, what shall we ever do with the both of you?” Aemond takes the little Alysanne from her arms as she tends to the boys, washing the sweat and dirt from them with a cool, damp cloth. But she’s laughing too, and it soon makes him laugh as well.

Aemond leans in, sniffing Aenar. “You smell more dragon than human now. Should your mother and I be worried you’ll sprout wings tonight?”

“Vhagar allowed for us to climb her legs!” Aenar exclaims, wiping his fingers on his tunic, then chewing on a piece of meat he stole from his father’s plate. Aemion nods from where he’s seated in his mother’s lap, nestled against her chest.

“We felt like you, father! Big and strong and ready to claim a dragon of our own!”

Aemond smiles, and his handmaid giggles, and he reaches out to hold her hand in his. As their sons keep recounting their previous enjoyment with Vhagar, their fingers twine together as husband and wife.

tag list for "his handmaid's tales": @aemondsblog @dc-marvel-girl96 @neobanguniverse @missalycat21 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan @padfooteyes @alexizodd @avidreader73 @the-common-cowgirl @inlovewithhisblueeyes @elegantsplendour @katzarantos @fan-goddess

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond drabble #dad!aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #handmaid!reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd fanfic #vic writes 🧸

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hederasgarden · 2 hours ago

Text

Post tenebras lux

Summary: You are gifted to Lucius as a reward for his prowess in the arena. Pairing: Lucius Verus x F!Reader Word Count: 5.9 K Rating: Explicit, 18+ only. Heavy angst with a HEA, dubious consent (reader and Lucius are coerced into having sex), public sex (PIV and f receiving), mentions of spousal death, and brief descriptions of blood/injuries from combat in the arena. A/N: I futzed with the timeline in this fic. Instead of coming home after conquering Numidia General Acacius is sent out on another campaign for the emperors. Also, fun fact — the Romans considered oral sex taboo. A HUGE thanks to @aliensupastar, my beloved B, @clairewritesandrambles, @ryebecca, and @faebirdie for their help with the fic. Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

The warm steam of the bath clings to the air, thick and heavy, as you move past the large pools where gladiators soak and laugh. Their rough voices fill the humid air and the afternoon sun filters through the open atrium, casting a muted, golden glow across the water. None of the men bother you as you make your way to the quiet alcove at the far end of the room. If Lucius's reputation in the arena hadn’t been enough to keep them away, the man whose hand he took for daring to touch you certainly was.

You’d learned quickly that in this place violence was power, and your gladiator wielded it well. It was a far cry from your life as a fisherman‘s wife, and then as a slave in Macrinus’s household. When you were gifted to Lucius, you braced yourself for the brutal ways of his world, where strength ruled above all else, and men like him took what they wanted without hesitation. But he never did. Instead, Lucius treated you with something you hadn’t expected: respect and kindness. His touch only ever lingered long enough to offer reassurance, never to claim.

In time you both learned to play your parts to survive. By day, Lucius was the victorious gladiator, and you, his spoil of war. They were roles neither of you had chosen, but ones you took on to survive. The night became your refuge, a time where the weight of your reality could be put aside, if only for a while. Curled around one another on the thin cot the ghosts of your past weren’t silenced but shared through whispered admissions. You could speak of the people you had once been – before Rome twisted you both into something unrecognizable.

Trust came with time. And now, as you approach the alcove where he waits, you can feel some of the tension leave your body. You are safe with Lucius, a thought that would have been absurd to you just months ago.

You shift the small wooden tray — laden with fresh bread, olives, figs, and a jug of strong wine — to your other hip. The soft scrape of your sandals against the stone floor alerts Lucius to your presence. His dark gaze lifts from the water, meeting yours with the quiet intensity that you’ve come to expect. Even in the haze of sweat and steam, his presence is impossible to ignore.

Where others would let their gaze wander lower, drifting toward the rest of his bare form submerged beneath the water, you always look at his face. It‘s there that you find what you seek: the sharp edges of your own pain and anger mirrored in his dark eyes. It’s a reflection of the hurt you carry, of all that Rome took from you both.

“You fought well today,” you say, settling beside the pool, the water lapping at the stone.

The words come easily, practiced—part of the familiar routine you’ve both come to rely on. Though the bath is quiet and you seem to be alone, you know better. You’ve learned the hard way that the walls have ears. Every word, every glance, carries weight here, and even in the relative solitude of this alcove, your interactions could be reported back to Macrinus. Only when you’re hidden away in the cell you share each night can you let the pretense fall away.

Lucius hums in response as he lets his head fall back against the cool stone. His muscled arm rests on the edge of the pool and you offer him a brief, gentle touch before withdrawing. The tension in his frame eases a fraction and his eyes flutter closed, but the sharpness of his presence doesn’t fade. He’s aware of every shift in the air, every sound around him. Even in the quiet comfort of this place, Lucius is never truly off guard.

You pick up a ripe fig, its skin velvety and fragrant, and drag it slowly through the warmed honey. Gently, you bring it to his lips, offering it with a quiet gesture. Lucius sighs—softly, almost imperceptibly—and then his lips part, taking the fruit from your fingers. As he bites into it, you feel the heat of his tongue brush against your skin. You try to ignore the traitorous feeling that springs to life in your belly. That feeling has become a frequent companion, one you never asked for, and one that sits uneasily beside the grief you still carry for your late husband.

“You must eat too,” Lucius commands. “You will need your strength for later.”

His rough words carry no real threat, but you react like they do, tucking your chin to your chest in a subtle gesture of submission. At times, it feels like a performance—like you're both actors on a stage, with an unseen audience watching every move. You eat in silence until the tray is bare and the goblet empty. When he rises from the pool, water cascading from his sun-kissed skin, you reach for the fresh robe laid carefully over the stone bench.

“Do you wish…” you begin, lifting your eyes to Lucius, only to falter at his expression. His eyes flicker briefly past you, and then, just as swiftly, return. He gives no warning before he pulls you forward and drags you into the water. Your cry of surprise is swallowed by the splash your bodies make as ripples spread outward. The wet robes cling to you like a heavy second skin and you sink deeper into the water.

“I’ll have you here,” Lucius announces loudly. He grasps your biceps and easily forces you to straddle him. Your face shields his from the outside world. His expression softens and even as his lips part to speak, you shake your head, stopping him before the words can leave his mouth.

You understand, without needing to hear it. The two of you are no longer alone.

He leans back, arms stretched along the edge of the bath. “Ride me,” he commands.

You struggle out of the heavy outer robe and your knuckles unwittingly brush over his abdomen. Lucius tenses beneath you. You offer him a quiet apology before withdrawing and rising to your knees. Your hips shift forward in a facsimile of his request, meeting nothing but a swell of water as you keep a careful distance from his body. He groans and you answer him with a quiet moan of your own. You rise up and down almost mechanically, staring at the chipped stone above his head. His hot breath fans over your neck, the heat of it lingering on your skin. You shudder as a warmth that has nothing to do with the pool gathers under your skin, shame twisting your insides.

Lucius grabs your waist urging you to move faster, and the sounds of his pleasure rise in intensity. The muscles of your thighs protest, burning with effort as you hold the distance between your bodies. The air around you shifts and the murmur of conversation in the other pools begins to fade as the gladiators are drawn in, listening to your performance. The silence grows almost suffocating, but you force yourself to push through the charade. This is just one of many indignities you’ve endured since Rome descended onto the sleepy fishing village you called home. It pales to what could await you if it were gifted to a different gladiator.

“Fuck,” Lucius growls loudly, abruptly stilling your movement to feign his pleasure.

After a beat you gather the courage to look over your shoulder, meeting Viggo’s stare. You tense. Calloused fingertips brush lightly over your jaw, drawing your attention back to Lucius. You stare down at him, taking in the light flush of his dusky cheeks and the steady rise and fall of his chest. His touch lingers for a moment more before his hand disappears beneath the water.

“Use my robe to cover yourself,” he instructs roughly.

It’s then that you realize how transparent your dress has become in the water. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment and you slide away, only to freeze when your thigh brushes over an unexpected hardness. Your eyes jump to his and Lucius’s throat bobs, the usual intensity of his features faltering for a brief moment.

"I will fetch more wine," you stammer after a pause, your gaze flicking nervously to Viggo still lingering at the edge of the bath, all too aware that Lucius cannot leave in this state.

Wrapping your arms around your chest, you rise from the pool. The cool air instantly prickles your damp skin. You reach for a robe nearby and pull it around you quickly, grateful for its modesty. Viggo shoots you a brief, assessing glance, but it’s Lucius who commands his attention next.

"Come to admire what isn't yours?" Lucius taunts.

He leans back casually, as though completely unfazed by the situation. It’s effortless the way he slips into his confident, unshakable mask while you hurry away, eager to break the silence and escape the strange weight of the moment.

–

The clang and clash of metal from the arena become a distant hum, fading into the background as you clean the wounds on Lucius's body. Ravi is occupied, tending to the more seriously injured men, so it falls to you to care for your gladiator. You kneel between his thighs and the coarse sand scrapes against the soft skin of your knees. The heat of the day clings to you both, the air thick with the smell of sweat and blood. But beneath it all, there's a scent you’ve come to recognize as uniquely his — a mix of earth and salt that’s oddly comforting.

You gently press a cloth to one of the deeper gashes, cleaning away the blood before you begin stitching the wound. Lucius hisses as you draw the needle through his parted skin, and you glance up at him in concern, but his eyes are closed, his breath steady despite the discomfort. His fingers curl into the edge of the cot, gripping it tightly. You smear the thick, fragrant paste Ravi left over the wound once you’re done.

“You’re getting better at this,” Lucius observes.

“Flesh is not so different from cloth,” you reply.

“A far cry from mending fishing nets,” he says, and for a moment, your eyes meet and you share a small, pained smile.

“And you are a long way from a farm, gladiator,” you acknowledge, shaking your head.

You help him stand, your hands steady as you support his weight, but you pause when you spot Viggo standing in the doorway. Lately, he seems to haunt your every step, his presence a constant shadow. On instinct you shift a little closer to Lucius, your body seeking the reassurance of his proximity just as he draws you near. The subtle movement doesn’t go unnoticed. A small, knowing smile tugs at Viggo’s lips. It’s a look that sends a trickle of unease down your spine.

“Macrinus is entertaining some important guests tomorrow evening, and you are required to attend,” he announces looking at Lucius. “They wish to see a real gladiator up close, to witness your strength and skill firsthand.”

Then, to your surprise, Viggo turns his gaze toward you. “Your presence is also required,” he adds. Although his tone is casual there's an edge to it that makes your stomach tighten.

Lucius doesn’t speak, but his fingers flex against your hip as he considers the other man’s command. You both know there’s little room for refusal when it comes to Macrinus.

“I understand-” you say at the same time Lucius’s voice cuts through the silence, low and firm.

“She is not needed. I alone will attend.”

His gaze never leaves Viggo, and you can see the challenge in his eyes. It’s an attempt to shield you, one you appreciate but understand is futile.

Viggo’s smile remains unchanged. “Macrinus insists.”

The matter is settled and you bow your head, waiting for the other man to leave. Once he is gone you look to Lucius, voice tinged with concern.

“You should not challenge him.”

Lucius steps away, anger rolling off him in waves. “And you should not submit so easily.”

You touch your throat, then turn away to busy yourself with the bloody scraps of cloth and scattered supplies. There’s no point in arguing. You know the truth: that sometimes submission is the only way to survive in a world ruled by men like Macrinus. As you work the silence between you stretches on, thick and charged before Lucius steps toward you.

He sighs, his breath warm against the back of your neck. A moment later, his hand rests on your shoulder. The calloused pads of his fingers graze the nape of your neck, sending a fleeting sense of unexpected longing through you as they briefly sweep over your skin.

“I….” His voice trails off and you close your eyes.

“I know,” you say quietly.

So much of what transpires between you seems left unsaid. You reach back, your hand finding his briefly as the two of you share a quiet moment before he must return to the arena.

–

The bangles on your wrist are heavy and ornate, far too extravagant for a slave. They feel less like adornments and more like shackles. Beside you, Lucius looks equally as uncomfortable in his fine clothes. They’ve trimmed his beard and his tunic—lined with gold thread—glimmers in the dim light. From across the room, Macrinus raises his goblet to the two of you. All around you his guests mingle, sharing hushed conversation and knowing smirks that deepen your discomfort.

The servants, once familiar to you from your time as a slave working in Macrinus's kitchen, all avoid your gaze. You spent years alongside them before you were plucked from that world and thrust into Lucius's service. Their hesitation, the way they look past you, is more than simple discomfort, it’s a warning you don’t yet understand. Your fingers tremble where they rest on Lucius’s arm.

“Something is not right,” you whisper, fear rising in your throat.

Before Lucius can reply, the conversation around you falters, and the air grows still as Macrinus moves to the center of the room. Then, with a sharp clap of his hands, the noise dies completely.

“Our entertainment is about to begin,” he announces, beckoning you forward.

As you approach, his eyes drift between you and Lucius. His smile widens, though it never quite reaches his eyes. “I hope you enjoyed your meal. You’ll both need your strength for the show,” he says.

“I am to fight?” Lucius questions, his voice edged with suspicion.

“No, not today,” Macrinus replies. “My guests are eager for a performance of another kind.”

Your brow furrows and Lucius stares blankly at Macrinus until two servants, moving in unison, pull a table forward. It is laden with the remnants of the earlier feast — half-finished plates, empty goblets, and discarded silverware. They work to clear away the table until it is left bare.

“It is no bed, but it’s finer than your cot,” Macrinus assures.

Lucius jerks back as if struck, his body stiffening in shock while cold dread settles over your shoulder as you both understand Macrinus’s meaning. He watches the small exchange between the two of you with amusement.

“Or, if you prefer not to,” he offers, watching Lucius intently. His voice is smooth with mock consideration as he continues speaking. “I’m sure another gladiator would gladly take your place.”

“No,” Lucius snarls. Before he can move, you dig your nails into his forearm, trying desperately to hold him in place.

Macrinus leans in close, his next words meant only for the two of you. “I expect a good show. Not like that mummer's farce in the bath.”

Ugly surprise washes over you as the full reality of your situation sinks in. Beside you, Lucius shifts and you see the familiar spark in his eyes. It’s the look he gets before a fight when the fire that lives inside him is ready to explode and consume everything in its path. You’ve seen it a thousand times in the arena, and it always ends the same way: with blood.

You almost wish you could let him fight, but you know better. You step closer to Lucius, your presence a quiet plea for him to stop. It takes a moment before he meets your gaze and when he does you see the pain beneath the rage, the knowledge that this moment is slipping beyond his control.

There’s no glory in this—only survival. Yet that truth doesn’t make it any easier to watch the fire in his eyes fade as he steps back. It’s the kind of defeat that no arena or battle could ever impose on him.

“My guests are eager for the show,” Macrinus says and gestures to the table.

You straighten your shoulders, willing your body to follow the courage your mind struggles to summon. Lucius follows with heavy footsteps. You stop before the table, heart pounding, and take a slow, steadying breath to gather your resolve before you turn to face your gladiator. You know the role you’re meant to play, this moment is just another part of the spectacle your life has become.

Without a word, Lucius steps closer and his hands come to rest on your hips, guiding you to sit on the edge of the table. When he moves between your legs, you can’t read his expression. Unexpectedly, one of his large hands cups the side of your face, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheekbone. He leans in, his forehead pressing against yours.

“Focus on me,” he urges. “It is just us here, no one else matters. Do not think of them. Do not think of anything but me.”

His words are a command and a reassurance all at once, grounding you in the moment even as your pulse quickens.

When he speaks again, his voice is louder, carrying across the room. “Lay back.”

The table is hard and cold beneath you as you follow his instruction, the chill seeping through the thin silks you wear. Lucius pulls you forward until you’re at the very edge, your legs hanging loosely off the sides. Gently, your dress is peeled away until you’re bare to him. His broad frame blocks the crowd from seeing much but you still feel vulnerable and exposed. You curl your fingers into the palms of your hands, trying to remember Lucius’s words as you close your eyes.

The murmurs of the observers increase, and you feel them shift, edging closer. Then, a woman’s gasp cuts through the tension, followed by a wave of hushed surprise that ripples through the gathered Romans. When you open your eyes you can only see the top of Lucius’s head from where he kneels between your thighs. Guilty anticipation zips through you, followed by a spark of heat that flickers low in your stomach at the sudden realization of what he intends to do.

“Barbaric,” a man utters, his voice thick with disdain.

“Now now,” Macrinus says with a slight chuckle. “Remember, our gladiator hails from Numidia. Their customs are not ours."

The first touch from Lucius is barely there, a whisper of contact against your inner thigh, but it grows firmer the higher his fingers climb. Instinctively, you hold your breath, waiting for him to reach the most sacred part of you. At the first touch of his mouth to you, the rest of the world fades away.

Lucius builds your pleasure with slow, steady strokes while his calloused hands knead your thighs. His touch is an anchor and spark all at once. There is little resistance when he curls a finger inside. A second joins the first a moment later and without thought, you thread your fingers into his curls. A long, shuddering moan leaves him, and the vibration tightens the coil in your belly. Lucius’s touch grows rougher and more demanding. He drinks from you like he’s starved for it, as if every drop is the only thing keeping him alive while his fingers work you open.

You come with a throaty cry, your hips leaving the table. Every nerve in your body is alight. You cannot help but hold Lucius against you until the mere brush of his nose against your center makes you quake again, sending waves of warmth through your veins. As much as you want him to stop, you’re desperate for him to continue and keep you in this moment where nothing but the two of you exist.

Lucius pulls away and reality crashes in with starting clarity while the eyes of the crowd cut through you like a thousand sharp edges. Before it all overwhelms you, he climbs onto the table. He lowers himself onto his forearms and the weight of him presses against you.

“Eyes on me,” he murmurs.

You open your mouth but the words you want to say seem to get caught, trapped somewhere between your chest and your lips. To your surprise, wetness gathers at the corner of your eyes. But even that feels like something you can't fully surrender to. You’re trapped in this strange, painful moment where nothing feels real and everything feels too real all at once. It’s all too much – his tenderness and the horror of the situation.

There’s a subtle, almost imperceptible shift in Lucius’s expression in response, but it’s enough to reveal something beneath the surface and allow you to see the guilt he bears. The lines around his eyes seem to deepen and the tension in his expression makes him look older, wearier, and more vulnerable than you've ever seen him. The desire to soothe him is enough to break the strange spell on you.

"All is well," you assure him, gently brushing your nose against his. “I am no maiden.”

“Fuck her already,” a voice shouts and Lucius pulls back, his handsome face twisting into a snarl. You feel the tension in his muscles, coiling like a spring, ready to snap—and a knot of anxiety tightens in your chest.

You breathe his name, soft and pleading, and he stills, the clench of his jaw betraying the war within. “It is only us,” you remind him, repeating his own words back to him.

He stares down at you, nostrils flaring and then suddenly he bows his head. You feel the fight leave him as he chooses restraint over the violence you both know he’s capable of.

"Only us," he replies, strained.

You hold his gaze as you feel his knuckles brush against your inner thigh to line himself up. He pushes inside slowly and you lift your hips. Your body welcomes him with only the briefest flare of pain, eased by his earlier attention.

“Oh,” you gasp.

Your eyes close as he fills you completely. The sensation is both comforting and alien all at once. You can’t help but think of your late husband, so different from Lucius in every way. You wonder fleetingly if the man above you is thinking of his lost love too. Does that unspoken grief weigh on him as heavily as it does on you?

Before your mind can wander further, Lucius begins to move and your thoughts fizzle out. He curls his powerful body over yours and keeps up a steady pace that makes your skin buzz. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and the smell of him surrounds you, familiar and comforting. As you move together each breath and shift of your body becomes a silent conversation between only the two of you.

“Gods,” he groans into your ear. “You take me so well.”

His unexpected praise has you rocking into him, needy for more. The table creaks each time he thrusts back into you. His lips trail along your neck and you feel that familiar climb to ecstasy begin, like a delicate crescendo inside you. Your nails dig into his skin and his rhythm stutters.

“Sweet girl,” Lucius sighs, pulling back just far enough to meet your gaze.

The tenderness in his eyes is unexpected. Since Macrinus gifted you to Lucius nearly six months ago, you’ve shared many looks; full of pain and grief, anger and understanding, but this is something new, fragile. You stroke his cheek and he surges forward, kissing you roughly.

His lips on yours are a revelation. A storm of emotion rolls through your chest, crystallizing into the realization that you want him. You long for him in a way that goes beyond the need for protection, or a desire for connection. You grasp his face in both hands, your fingers trembling against the hard line of his jaw, and return the kiss with urgency. It’s desperate, almost frantic, as though you’re trying to pull him closer, to merge with him in a way that makes the world outside of the two of you disappear.

He responds with a sharp thrust, angled so perfectly that it sends a flash of heat up your spine. You taste yourself on him when his tongue delves into your mouth. He hardly lets you catch a breath as he pours himself into you over and over until another orgasm washes through you. It’s more intense than the last, bleeding into his own as he comes with a quiet moan.

He gives a few more thrusts and stills, his lips hovering over yours as you share the same air. Your thumbs stroke the soft skin under his eyes and you hold his gaze. In the depths of it, you feel a thousand words rising in your chest, aching to spill out, but you are all too aware you’re not alone.

Before you let the world back in you tilt your chin up, lips brushing over his in a slow, tender kiss that he returns with heartbreaking gentleness. When you finally pull apart, the applause from Macrinus makes you flinch, and Lucius’s expression clouds over.

“What a performance,” Macrinus exclaims.

A titter of applause follows from the audience as though they’ve witnessed something to be praised. Lucius pulls away and you wince as he slips from inside you. A trickle of his seed follows and cold air blankets your body. You curl in on yourself, feeling vulnerable and anxious. When Lucius moves to stand, he carefully pulls your dress to cover you. Then, he helps you upright, and draws you into his side, shielding you with his body. He lifts his chin and offers the crowd a sharp, almost vicious smirk that’s more a baring of teeth than a smile.

“I thought you might fuck like you fight,” Macrinus says. He lays a hand on Lucius’s shoulder like they are old friends and leans close. “I’m pleased to see that I was wrong.”

There’s some other meaning in his words that you don’t catch but Lucius seems to understand. Anger flickers across his face, but beneath it, you see something more unsettling, something you’ve never seen before. Fear.

“We will do a great many things together, I think,” Macrinus continues in a pleased tone, his gaze lingering on the hand Lucius settles possessively on your hip. “A great many things.”

This time when he smiles it reaches his eyes; cold, calculating, and full of something far more sinister.

You spend the rest of the party seated on Lucius’s lap, his arm banded around your waist while the other rests on your thigh. He’s tense and angry as you expect but his focus seems distant, lost somewhere far beyond the room. He rubs the fabric of your dress between his thumb and forefinger, the motion almost absentminded. The wine you sip is overly sweet and sits like a sour stone in your belly. Neither of you speak. Occasionally, some guests, perhaps emboldened by drink or bravery, approach, but Lucius quickly sends them on their way with nothing more than a look.

Only once the party dies down are you dismissed by Viggo. On the journey back to your cell Lucius’s grip on you remains firm, as if he's afraid you might slip away. He doesn't speak, and you notice every so often, his free hand curls into a tight fist at his side, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. It’s not until the door closes behind you, locking you both inside the small, dimly lit space, that Lucius finally speaks.

"You know my true name,” he begins pacing the length of the cell. “But there are things I have not told you."

He speaks slowly, each word carefully measured, as though he’s weighing the cost of revealing what’s hidden. He tells you the truth of his origin, and with each sentence, you sink deeper into the thin cot you both share, the weight of his words pressing down on you. When he finally falls silent, you remain there, frozen. A thousand thoughts flood your mind, but none of them seem to form into anything coherent.

"Does this mean-" you begin, words faltering as you try to process the magnitude of what he’s revealed to you. “Does this mean… you are the rightful emperor?”

“I am.” There’s no pride in his admission, only worry. He releases a harsh breath through his nose like he’s trying to clear something from his chest before he speaks again. “There is a plan in place, with my mother and Acacius, but he will not return from Persia for several weeks yet. We cannot wait for them.”

“What has changed?”

“Surely you must know,” he whispers, regarding you softly.

You shake your head, a quick, instinctive denial, but a deeper part of you already understands. Or perhaps, hopes you do.

“You," he says simply.

It’s the way he says it, so certain and knowing, that makes your breath catch. You stare at him and your heart throbs in your chest, low and sweet like a song.

“I never thought I could want someone again,” he admits. His unexpected words summon the ghost of all you've both lost, and they rise between you like a shadow, lingering for a long painful moment. "I thought it would feel like..." His words trail off.

“A betrayal,” you finish for him, keenly aware of what he must feel.

The vulnerable look on his face awakens something deep and real inside you that you never expected to feel again. You rise from the cot without thinking and move to stand before him.

"It feels right," he continues, his voice softer now, but no less certain. "As easy as breathing."

And then he kisses you, tentative at first, before he grasps your jaw, seeking more of you. The way he holds you, possessively, protectively, makes you feel like you’re the only thing that matters, like you're his lifeline in a world that’s about to crumble. It fills you with such longing that you chase his lips when they part from yours.

"Macrinus knows now. And he is planning something," Lucius says, his voice tight with urgency, "and whatever it is, it will be at odds with the good of Rome. He will use you to get to me. And I cannot lose you."

“What will you do?” You ask.

"I'll send word to my mother in the morning," he replies. "You and she must leave Rome. It’s the only way."

You shake your head, unwilling to part from him.

“I will come for you when it is safe,” he promises, capturing your lips in another kiss before he pulls away and rests his forehead against yours. "But tonight… tonight, I need you again. Will you have me?” He questions.

You answer him with your lips and he gathers you in his arms. The coarseness of his beard against your chin and the firm press of his lips to yours ignites a bone-deep need within. Suddenly all the danger, the uncertainty, and the inevitability of what’s to come fades into the background. It's just the two of you, the heat of his touch, the depth of his kiss, and the unspoken promise in his embrace.

When he pulls you down on the cot, urging you on top of him, you let his momentum carry you.

“Ride me,” he pleads desperately, framing your hips with his hands.

He gazes up at you with such a mix of desperation and love that you couldn’t deny him, even if you wanted to. The shudder he gives when you take him in hand emboldens you to stroke his length. He groans and pushes his head back, exposing his thickly corded neck. You rise up and sink down on him slowly, savoring each inch. It’s near perfect how he fills you, and even though you’re still sore from earlier, the blend of pain and pleasure thrills you too much to stop.

“Your dress,” he pants, “remove it. Please. I want to see you. All of you.”

You pull the fabric from your body and shed the bangles on your wrist while Lucius removes his tunic. You’re familiar with every inch of his body from tending to his wounds and time in the bathhouse, but you gaze down at him now with renewed appreciation, resting your hands on his firm shoulders. His eyes are filled with affection and desire as they roam your body.

“You’re beautiful,” he praises.

He cups your breasts and draws his thumbs across your nipples until they grow hard. The touch sends sparks of pleasure along your nerves and you twitch around him. He moans and rolls his hips. His arms encircle you, holding you close while he fucks you with strong, powerful thrusts. You bury your face in his neck and drag his skin between your teeth. He answers your action with a groan.

“Gods, the way you feel. You’re perfect,” he praises.

You sit up and plant your hands on his chest, moving your hips to take him deeper. You gasp his name and arch your back, rocking forward with an urgent need that eclipses everything else. For the first time in what feels like forever, you close your eyes and let yourself simply feel. There’s no need to shield yourself, no barriers to maintain.

“Look at me,” Lucius begs, grasping your waist to take control of your movements.

Your eyes flutter open and meet his, the beginning of your orgasm rising to the surface like a tide pushing its way to shore. It grows steadily until it finally crashes over you, flooding your senses and leaving you breathless in its wake. Lucius finds his own end moments after with a low, shuddering gasp. It takes several moments for your breathing to return to normal and when it does Lucius sweeps his hands up your sides comfortingly.

"Stay with me like this,” he asks.

You acquiesce and he gently guides you to rest your cheek against his chest. His hand slides to the middle of your back, his palm warm and steady as he holds you close. Even though he remains inside you still your body relaxes, pooling in his. You close your eyes and listen to the steady drum of his heart, feeling a profound sense of stillness.

You’ve always felt safe in Lucius’s arms, but now, you feel loved in a way you never dreamed you’d experience again. It’s a kind of peace that settles into you, filling all the broken, hollow spaces in your heart where your grief and pain have lingered for so long.

Whatever comes next, his love and strength are something you can hold onto. And for now, that is all you need.

♡

My inbox is open for your thoughts on Lucius and requests for drabbles with his character for General Acacius (but I will pretend he is not married to Lucilla).

I am also happy to write a little epilogue for this story if there is an interest.

#lucius verus x reader #lucius verus #lucius verus x you #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #paul mescal #hanno x reader

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celiastjamesoscar · 1 year ago

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Sweat and Serendipity

Pairings: Sam Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: While working out at your local gym, you run into someone you haven’t seen before.

Warnings: R and Sam both being horn dogs

Word Count: 4.9K

AN: this was from a request a couple days ago and I hope you enjoy it! It’s a little bit shorter than my other work but I didn’t want to stray too far from the request

The upbeat melody of ‘Funky Town’ rang throughout the pitch-black room, causing Y/N to stir in her sleep. The woman groaned as she rolled over and fumbled around the end table by her bed before finally grabbing her phone. She shut off her alarm and then checked the time, 4:30 am. She let out another groan as she forced herself up in bed.

She stared blankly at the wall with a zombie-like expression on her face. She needed to go to the gym this morning, fearing she might break her cycle of going at the ass-crack of dawn. And she also knew that if she didn’t go just this one time, she would never go back again this early.

After a few minutes of blank staring, she swung her legs over to the side and pushed herself off the bed. Her bare feet met with the cold wooden floor, sending shivers up her spine. She stumbled into her bathroom and flicked on the lights, instantly shutting her eyes as she covered them while mumbling a curse word.

Once her eyes had adjusted to the blinding lights, she moved her hands and slowly opened her eyes. She looked just as she felt: a soldier who was returning half her weight, or much like a zombie who had been stuck in a mall listening to ‘Dance Monkey’ on repeat since the start of the apocalypse.

When she saw the bags under her eyes, the memories from last night flooded her mind.

She was staying at her friend Anika’s house, and they were celebrating the release of Speak Now (Taylor’s Version). The worst part about the night was that she was so wasted she couldn’t remember any songs from the album. Hell, she doesn’t even know how she got home. The few things she could recall were faint memories of Anika violently sobbing during ‘Last Kiss,’ and she also vaguely remembered herself talking about Rhea Ripley and wanting to get pinned by her.

Shaking off the bad memories, Y/N put in her contacts and brushed her teeth. When she finished up in the bathroom, she turned off the lights and went back into her room. She opened up a dresser drawer and grabbed a pair of socks and a sports bra, along with some shorts. She sat on her bed and put her socks on, then stood up and quickly changed into her shorts. She took off her shirt and put on her bra, and then put the shirt back on. She raised her left and smelled herself, “smells fine,” she mumbled as she packed her gym bag; it was just a spare change of clothes and some shampoo and condition. She hated showering at the gym, but she also hated driving home sweaty. She swung her bag over her shoulder and grabbed her phone and earbuds, and walked toward her bedroom door. She did one final sweep to make sure she didn’t forget anything before she left the room and shut her door.

Y/N made her way into the kitchen and grabbed her jug of water that she left on the island. She filled it with some ice and then filled it up with water. Once it was full, Y/N put the lid back on and grabbed a protein shake from the fridge. She made her way to the door with her water jug and her ‘breakfast’ drink in hand as she held her car keys and went out the door. Y/N locked the door and walked down the stairs into the lobby, and left the apartment building. She walked across the street to the parking garage, found her car, got in, and started it.

Y/N sat in her car for a few minutes, debating if she really wanted to go to the gym today, and decided that if she did go today, that would mean she could eat more cake at her cousin’s birthday party that was later today. Y/N smiled to herself at that thought, backing her car up and driving towards the gym, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel with excitement. She opened her protein shake and drank it throughout the drive as The Killers filled the silence. The sky was still dark with dusk hours, but Y/N appreciated the beauty of the early morning. The Big Apple was always hectic, but the morning hours always seemed peaceful.

As she pulled into the gym’s parking lot, she noticed a single car, and it immediately caught her attention. At most, there were three people at the gym this early; herself, a shy dude in his early twenties but shredded, and a decently attractive soccer mom. But this car didn’t belong to either of them, so that meant someone new was here, and it sparked her interest.

Frattini’s was a small gym and not a popular one at all, so the people that worked out there were either locals or people who hated crowded gyms. Y/N was the latter; she hated working out with many people around, and she also had a personal vendetta against Planet Fitness, but not that that mattered. The gym was an old one and had been around long before Y/N was born, but she loved it nonetheless. The building was old, and the metal roof sometimes leaked when it rained. The machines were old, and the padding was worn down on almost all of them, and sometimes the treadmills didn’t work, but Y/N would rather die a death by a thousand cuts than ever step inside a Planet Fitness or any other gym for that matter. This place was like Y/N’s second wife, falling short of Cate Blanchett, and she would never leave her for a younger, more modern gym, no way.

She finished off her shake, grabbed her bag along with her phone, water jug, and earbuds, stepped out of her car, and walked towards the doors. She used her green key fob to unlock the door and walked inside. She could hear the faint sound of Guns N Roses playing over the speakers as she walked up to the front desk and scanned her key fob again. Y/N didn’t know why she had to scan it-she believed it was a way of checking in-but she was a rule follower and did what she was supposed to.

After she checked in, Y/N walked past the desk and opened up the door to the actual gym. She didn’t see who was there with her, but she knew she would find them eventually. She walked about ten feet from the door and stopped before the red cubby holes. Y/N lightly laughed as she saw a light pink gym bag in a cubby towards the middle. She was slightly glad that the stranger didn’t take the one on the end of the right side, as that one was hers, and she hated it when someone would place their stuff in it. Well, it wasn’t technically hers, but everyone who came here throughout the day had their own personal cubby, so she naturally got defensive over it.

When Y/N walked past the door, to the left, there was a wall that was lined with treadmills, and that wall cut back into a smaller section of the gym that’s used for, well, Y/N didn’t quite know what that side was for, she just knew that the flooring was turf and it slightly agitated her. On the same wall that had the cubbies, it was lined up with three stair masters that Y/N hated, along with a pull-up machine, two different hip abduction machines, and some weird core machine you twisted on that scared Y/N. The second row included more machines; a couple of ellipticals, two bikes, a lat pulldown, one chest press, one tricep extension, and a bicep curl. There was a third row, but Y/N didn’t mess with that stuff too much except for the linear leg press. On the right wall was a full-length mirror that took up the entire width of the wall, with a rack of dumbbells toward the left side of the wall and leg machines with a squat rack towards the right. On the wall across the cubbies was the deadlift bar with another full-length mirror in front of it. And if Y/N walked to the left of the deadlift set, she would enter that turf area she hated.

Y/N placed her bag in her cubby and put her earbuds in as she walked over to the linear leg press with her water jug. She put the right amount of weighted plates on it and moved to lie down on the backrest. Y/N pushed the bars out that kept it locked, and when she brought it down and went to push up, her left eye caught something. She turned her head to see what had caught her eye, and her knees buckled, causing the leg press to come down quickly. Luckily, her legs didn’t go inward, and they just slammed into her chest, causing her to lose her breath.

Over on the turf was a captivating Latina doing pull-ups. She wore leggings with just a bra, and Y/N had to wipe the drool off her chin as her eyes ogled the woman’s back muscles. However, when her legs buckled, and the press came down on her, it caused a loud bang to echo throughout the vaguely empty gym, which caused the woman to drop down from the bar and face Y/N.

Y/N sent the woman an awkward smile followed by an awkward wave, and she mentally cursed herself for it. But she changed her mind when the woman let out a small laugh and wiggled her fingers at Y/N, giving her a playful wave before returning to her pull-ups.

When the woman turned around, a giant grin overtook Y/N’s face while she did a fist pump, clearly amazed at herself. Y/N then decided to continue her workout and began doing proper leg presses.

After she finished her first set, she started listening to music while subtly moving her eyes over to the turf side. She probably would have checked the woman out by now, but the turf also had mirrors on its wall that you could see the rest of the gym out of. So if Y/N had checked the woman out, the Latina would have seen Y/N nearly kill herself because she had tried to. The alluring woman had moved to cable rows, and Y/N had to pry her eyes away from the woman’s biceps, which were glistening with sweat.

‘I just wanna lick-ouch!’ Y/N thought as she continued her creepy staring but was cut off when her legs gave out again, causing the woman to look over at Y/N. This time, Y/N didn’t meet her gaze as she pushed up on the press and locked it. She got up from the seat and re-racked her weights. She refused to do leg stuff simply because she needed her leg strength to mow down children at her cousin’s birthday and not because the woman of her dreams kept making them weak.

Y/N grabbed her jug and phone and moved to the lat pull-down. She decided she would do her pull again, and also because she wanted her back to look good in case the beautiful woman decided to leave scratches on it.

Ten minutes had passed, and Y/N finally finished her set. She had started to work up a sweat and wiped it off with her shirt. Unbeknownst to her, the woman from earlier had caught the action and stared at Y/N’s abs. Sam felt she had looked at the stranger’s abs, but she couldn’t help. She thought the woman was a little awkward just based on their interaction from earlier, and against her better judgment, Sam wanted to know her better. She waited until Y/N moved to the chest press before walking toward her.

Y/N had been so focused on not embarrassing herself anymore that she didn’t see the woman approach her until she was standing in front of her. She took one earbud out to listen to the woman. “Are you done with this?” Aphrodite asked while gesturing to the lat pull-down machine. “Oh, yeah. Go ahead,” Y/N said while looking at the woman, “hey, I am sorry about earlier.”

Sam looked at Y/N with a raised eyebrow before she released what the woman was apologizing about. “Don’t worry about it; I’m just glad you aren’t hurt too bad,” Sam says in a gentle tone as she sits down on the seat of the machine. Y/N nods her head at Sam’s words and continues with her workout.

Twenty minutes had passed since their short conversion, and Y/N was done for the day. She was getting ready to leave when Sam asked her for help. “Would you mind spotting me?” Sam asked quietly, almost as if she was afraid to ask for help.

Y/N took a drink from her jug before nodding, “Of course.” She followed Sam to the bench press and stood at the head of the seat. She watched Sam add her plates to the bar and made a look of shock as she realized that Sam might be stronger than her, and she had to ignore the fire she felt in her core.

Sam lay on the bench and gripped the bar before slightly pushing it off the rack and bringing it down to her chest. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as she watched Sam push up on the bar like it was easy work, and she continued to do 12 reps. Y/N helped Sam re-rack the bar as she took a break and sat up. “I never got your name,” Sam stated breathlessly, but she couldn't tell if it was from the bench press or the attractive woman in front of her.

“Oh, I’m Y/N. It's nice to officially meet you,” Y/N says with a smile as she extends her hand toward Sam. Sam accepts Y/N’s hand and slides her own into the woman’s. Y/N nearly melted onto the floor at the feeling of Sam’s rough hand against hers and had to hold back her rated-R thoughts when Sam gave her hand a gentle yet firm shake.

On the other hand, Sam felt something she had never felt before when her skin had made contact with Y/N. She felt that spark you only hear about in movies or books, the type of spark you feel when you find the one, and it shocked her. Instead of being an asshole like she wanted, Sam gave Y/N’s hand a firm shake, not meaning to be gentle about it. “I’m Sam, and it's nice to meet you as well,” Sam replied with a smile as she dropped Y/N’s hand. She then moved to lie down on the bench again and finish out her sets.

After her third and final set, Y/N helped her re-rack the bar again and the weights. When Y/N looked at Sam, she finally noticed that she was a couple of inches shorter than her, and for some reason, it boosted Y/N’s confidence. But that confidence quickly died when Y/N saw a small bead of sweat trail down Sam’s abdomen. Her face became red, and her tongue dry as her mind was filled with raunchy thoughts again. So she pretended she wasn’t in the middle of a gay panic and drank some water, trying to calm herself down while keeping her tongue wet for talking purposes and no other reason.

The two walked together toward the cubbies and grabbed their things. Sam pretended to look for something when Y/N asked, “How come I’ve never seen you here before?”

Sam chuckled at the question and looked over her right shoulder, “I moved here a few months ago, and I decided I needed a good gym to work out at. I tried a few different ones, but none of them stuck,” Sam said with a shrug of her shoulders.

“So why give Frattini’s a try?” Y/N asked with a playful smile before adding, “Not that I’m complaining, though.”

Sam rolled her eyes at the comment but returned the playful smile, “I prefer quality over quantity; I’m not a fan of chain gyms, and I like supporting the smaller ones.”

“Well, I don’t think you’ll find too much quality here, but it's a small gym, and everyone is nice here. And I also prefer smaller gyms,” Y/N said as she slung her bag over her shoulder. Sam copied the woman’s actions with her own bag and started walking toward the door with the woman. Y/N opened the door and held it for Sam, and Sam did the same thing with the front door.

The two walked out to their separate cars as the early morning sun barely peeked above the horizon. “I hope to see you around sometime, Sam,” Y/N said with a smile and hopeful eyes. She didn't know why, but she wanted to see Sam again soon.

“You will. And thank you for helping me, Y/N,” Sam replied as she opened her car door as well.

“Anytime,” Y/N said as she gave Sam one final smile before getting into her car and shutting the door. Sam smiled as she watched Y/N drive off before getting into her car, looking forward to seeing Y/N again soon.

Y/N shifted uncomfortably as she drove home; she regretted not showering, but again, she was glad she got to walk out with Sam. Her mind drifted off with thoughts of Sam, and she wondered when she would see the beautiful woman. She regretted not asking her for her number, but she felt that it might have been too forward.

When the next morning arrived, instead of moping around in bed, Y/N sprang out of bed with excitement. She quickly brushed her teeth and put in her contacts while she eagerly got dressed. She grabbed her phone, earbuds, and water jug before entering the kitchen. Y/N refilled her jug and put the lid back on as she moved toward the door. She grabbed her keys, locked the door, and basically skipped out to her car. She turned on her car and pulled out of the garage as excitement overtook her body.

Y/N knew it was crazy to be this excited at 4:45 in the morning, but she couldn’t help it. Her mind had been plagued with thoughts of Sam so much that during her cousin’s birthday party, she forgot to get a piece of cake she had worked so hard for.

As Y/N pulled up to the gym, she almost screamed with happiness; it would be just her and Sam again today. She parked her car, turned it off, and flew out of the car with all her things. She scanned her key fob twice and acted calm and collected as she placed her things in her cubby. Y/N never liked working on Saturdays, but she would force herself to like it if she got Sam all to herself. She walked over to the leg press and hoped she could get leg day in, but just as she laid down, Sam walked out of the bathroom and stopped right in front of Y/N. “Hey, sailor,” Sam said with a flirty tone, and Y/N almost did a repeat of yesterday morning, but she caught herself and started her workout.

“Missed me already?” Y/N questioned as she pushed up with her legs, trying her best to focus on building her leg strength and not the gorgeous woman currently towering over her. Sam wore the same outfit from yesterday but in a different color, and Y/N had to fight back a bark.

Sam scoffed at Y/N’s words, “Of course not; I just happened to see you struggling, and I decided to offer you my support.”

Y/N finished up her set and locked the machine before sitting up slightly. “You wound me, Sam,” Y/N said with a hurt expression that quickly turned into a playful one.

“Well, if I wound you so much, I guess you wouldn’t want to work out with me then,” Sam suggested with a sigh before she pretended to walk off.

When Y/N saw Sam turn away from her and begin to walk off, she quickly stood up. “I’d like to work out with you,” Y/N spewed out quickly, causing Sam to turn around and raise her eyes rows, “only if you want me to, though.”

Sam laughed at the woman’s nervousness as she walked toward the girl and gently slapped her arm, “come on, let’s do some legs.” Y/N smiled at Sam’s words and followed the Latina to the squat rack, her heartbeat picking up for an unknown reason.

Y/N helplessly watched as Sam added her weights to the bar and ducked under it, and stood up, resting it on her shoulders as she gripped the bar. “Spot me?” She asked, snapping Y/N out of her thoughts. She nodded her head as her hands ghosted over Sam’s hips. She knew this wasn’t the proper way to spot someone, but she saw an opportunity and took it.

Sam’s body heated up when she felt Y/N’s hands close to her hips. She knew that this wasn’t the correct way to have a spotter, but she enjoyed having Y/N’s hands on her hips and didn’t want to lose contact.

When Sam would squat down with the bar, Y/N slightly copied the woman’s movements, ensuring everything was appropriately aligned. Sam suddenly felt nervous when Y/N copied her moves, and when she stood back up, her eyes locked with Y/N’s in the mirror.

Y/N gave Sam a polite smile with her hands still resting on the woman’s hips. “Hi,” Y/N breathlessly said.

“Hi,” San replied with a faint smile. She couldn’t tell if her heartbeat was going a mile a minute because of the squats or if she was simply flustered due to the attractive woman standing behind her. She refused to believe it was the latter.

Sam continued the rest of her set, and when she was done, she and Y/N would trade places. Sam tried her best to make sure that Y/N’s legs didn’t dip inward, but she was too distracted. Every time Y/N would stand up, she would let out a small groan, and Sam hated the way it made her feel.

When the two finished with squats, they started on the leg press. Sam watched with hooded eyes as Y/N’s quads flexed every time the woman straightened her legs. By the time Y/N had finished all three of her sets, Sam had got speechless.

“Sam? You okay?” Y/N asked as she got up from the seat and stood before Sam, gently placing her hands on Sam’s forearms. The contact pulled Sam out of whatever trenches they were, and she shook her head, “No, yeah, I’m good. Sorry about that; I was just distracted.”

Y/N nodded at Sam’s words, gave the woman’s forearms a soft squeeze, and dropped her hands down to her sides. “Alright then, what next?” Y/N asked with a gentle smile.

Almost an hour later, the two women had completed their workout, and Sam somehow managed to avoid going into cardiac arrest. Y/N was glad she got to spend more time with the pretty woman. “So, do you work out on Sundays?” Y/N asked when they got to their cubbies. She was messing around with her bag and refused to look at Sam.

“No, that’s my only day off. Why do you ask?” Sam questioned as her heart thumped steadily against her ribcage; she hoped that Y/N would ask her out, either in a platonic or friendly way. She didn’t care which one it was; just as long as she was with Y/N, she was ecstatic.

Y/N stopped messing with her hand and turned to face Sam. Any previous nerves were gone, nowhere to be seen. The woman's confident smile lit up the gym, and her eyes danced across Sam’s body. On the other hand, Sam seemed to absorb Y/N’s nervousness; her face began to heat up, her palms started to sweat, and for the life of her, she could not look the taller woman directly in the eye.

“I was hoping you would want to do something with me tomorrow? You know, outside of the gym,” Y/N asked as she put her bag over her shoulder, getting ready to head to the showers.

“Why does it have to be tomorrow and not today?” Sam asked when she finally made eye contact with Y/N. She noticed how the woman’s cheeks pulled with her smile, indicating that her confidence was a facade to hide her nerves.

Y/N perked up when she heard Sam’s request, and she instantly beamed. “Oh, I didn’t know if you had plans for today. But if you don’t, I would love to go do something with you later,” Y/N said as she shuffled from one foot to another but maintained a smile.

“I don’t have anything else to do today, so I’m free whenever,” Sam responded while matching Y/N’s smile. She had just met the other girl yesterday, but she couldn’t help the gravitational pull she felt towards the taller woman.

Y/N nodded her head at Sam’s words and slightly pulled on the strap that was across her chest, “Sweet! I mean, okay. We can get breakfast or something once I finish my shower.”

A small laughter rang throughout the gym when Y/N mentioned her shower. “You’re seriously taking a shower here?” Sam asked with a small laugh.

“Of course, I can’t smell bad for our date,” Y/N replied but froze as she called it a date. She hadn’t meant to call it one, but she couldn’t help but yearn for a date with the beautiful woman before her. Y/N noticed how Sam caught her slip up and the way she froze, so she decided to direct the attention away from her. “Unless you would want to join me?” She asked with a smirk that surprised Sam.

The remark flew through Sam’s ear and out the other as embarrassment overtook her. She was never flustered easily, but there was something about Y/N that caused her entire body to act out of line. “You aren’t that slick, Y/N. I’ll just wait for you out here,” Sam said with a smile as she tried her best to hide her evident excitement. She would storm into heaven and hell if it meant she could see Y/N naked in her bed, but she kept those thoughts to herself. The last thing Y/N needed to know was that Sam had been thinking about fornicating with her since they started working out together.

“Are you sure? This is a once-in-a-lifetime offer, and it expires in ten seconds,” Y/N said as she walked backward to the showers, and both women ignored how she almost tripped.

“I’m sure, Y/N, you won’t win me over that easily. Just hurry up,” Sam replied with a small smile as she grabbed her things. She watched as Y/N asked again if she wanted to join her before the taller woman disappeared into the shower room.

Y/N practically ran into the closest shower and stripped in record time. She did a quick rinse with soap and water; Sam told her to be quick about it, and she listened. She finished up her shower and threw on her clothes, and calmly walked out of the shower room with a smile, but her grin dropped as she saw that Sam was nowhere to be seen.

She walked to the cubbies and saw that Sam’s bag was gone, but she found a small note in her own cubby.

‘My sister cut herself with a knife trying to cut an apple, and I have to take her to the hospital. I’m still looking forward to our breakfast later today. Call me!

Sam ;)

XXX-XXX-XXXX’

Y/N smiled at the note as she pushed the door to the lobby open with her back. She pulled out her phone and sent Sam a quick text message asking if her sister was alright, to which she got an immediate reply of a picture of Sam and her little sister sitting in her car together. The sister had her right hand wrapped in a bloody bandage resting in her lap while her left hand was flipping the camera off. She had no smile as opposed to her older sister, who had a giant one on her face and gave the camera a slight thumbs up.

She was going to ask if she needed to reschedule their date, but Y/N erased the message when Sam sent, ‘I’ll drop the child off at the ER, and we can eat shitty hospital food while she gets stitches, my treat!’ Y/N smiled at the message and returned a picture of herself with a thumbs up, eager to see Sam again, even if it was in an awful hospital cafeteria.

#sam carpenter #scream #melissa barrera #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x female reader

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waywardxwords · 1 year ago

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I've Got You

Summary: After a year of being in Purgatory, Dean has returned and is trying to make sense of what happened while he was away.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader (more of a friendship; they deeply care about each other but nothing wildly romantic happens in this story)

Word Count: ~1.6k

Warnings: Light cursing, angst, Dean/Sam contention (this takes place after Dean gets back from Purgatory and Sam is on/off with Amelia), light fluff, light blood/silver testing (non-descriptive)

A/N: Happy October, friends! This is my first entry for the #flufftober2023 @flufftober prompt challenge. The prompt is: "I've got you." I hope you enjoy!

“Dean,” you breathed as you walked through the door of the cabin. Even after you heard his voice on the phone, you couldn’t be sure it was really him–not until you saw him.

“Test me,” his words were firm and clear–much firmer than you remembered. You processed that the man had been in Purgatory for the last year, and his experience had most likely hardened his already tough demeanor.

“Dean, I–” you tried to stop him.

“Test me, dammit,” he grumbled as he grabbed what looked like a jug of holy water and took a swig of it. Next was the silver; he didn’t hesitate to run it along his forearm before he wrapped the cut it left behind with a bandana. He wiped the blade on his denim jeans.

“Dean,” you said, for the third time now. Your eyes burned with tears. You knew it was him from the get go, but now it was confirmed. He handed you the holy water and the blade. You moved slower than he did, but you took a sip of the water and winced at the bitterness; it was laced with salt. Then, you took the blade and matched his movements with a small slice on the underside of your forearm.

Without allowing another moment to pass, he pulled you in tightly to his chest for a hug–so tight, you thought you might not be able to breathe as your body was crushed against his.

“God, it’s good to see you,” he breathed in your hair before he finally released you. “Where’s Sammy?” His eyes moved over your face inquisitively.

“I, uh, I don’t know, Dean,” you were careful with your words. You were a little bit angry with Sam, but you didn’t want to have to explain why to Dean.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” The sharpness made you blink, but you knew he wasn’t trying to hurt you with his tone. The man had been in Purgatory for a year, for Christ’s sake.

There was no way around it, though. You were going to have to try to explain and hope he could understand.

“I’ve gotta get out of here,” Sam mumbled. It had been three days since you all had killed the Leviathans, but somehow Dean and Castiel had been killed in the process. You had spent three days researching and looking for how to find them, but you had come up empty. Sam had tossed around the idea of Purgatory , for Cas, at least, because he was an angel; but neither of you knew how that worked–the death of an angel? Where would they go? Could an angel go to Hell?

“Sam, we’re going to find them,” your eyes were heavy, you hadn’t slept. The pain of running in circles reading and re-reading and searching was making you feel crazy.

“Are we? Even if we do find them, how are we going to get them out?” Sam was angry, and you understood that. But anger wasn’t helping the situation, and you wished he could realize that.

“I don’t know yet,” you sighed as you placed your elbows on the wooden table in front of you and dropped your head into your hands. “We will find a way. We always do.”

“I have no one now. My family is dead, I just…I gotta get out of here,” he repeated. His words stung, but you knew you weren’t family. You weren’t even a hunter, initially. You had stumbled into this world when the Winchesters had saved you on a hunt a while back. Now that you knew what went bump in the night, there was no turning back. “I’m sorry, but I have to go…” Sam seemed reckless, but you also knew that you couldn’t stop him. Not really, anyway.

You stayed silent, but as the door closed behind him, tears pooled in your tired eyes.

After you had explained carefully what had transpired, you tried to ease the blow. “You always wanted Sam to get out of the hunting life, Dean.” Your words were soft.

Dean sat on the sofa leaned forward, his elbows on his thighs as he stared at the wall opposite him. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t say a word.

“I gotta get some air,” he cleared his throat and stood quickly. He reached for his jacket. “I’ll be back later.” Before you could say a word, he was already out the door and pulling it behind him with a slam. You couldn’t help but feel defeated, yet again.

This was the third dive bar you had checked in an hour. You had lost hope and wondered if you really knew the oldest Winchester at all as you looked for him. But there he sat on a barstool at the end of the dimly lit bar.

You heaved a sigh before you walked towards him. “I’m gettin’ real tired of looking for your ass,” you grumbled playfully as you carefully moved onto the stool next to him.

His eyes didn’t move from the back of the bar as he took a pull from his beer.

“Yeah, well, at least somebody’s lookin’,” he muttered just loud enough for you to hear.

You weren’t sure what to say to that immediately, so instead you leaned against the bar and flagged down the bartender. “Could I get a Stella, please?” The bartender nodded and went to retrieve your bottled beer.

A few moments of silence passed. “I just thought he’d look for me,” Dean's voice cut through the quiet noise in the bar as he stared at the label on his bottle. His fingernails picked at the edges in a way to distract himself.

“I know,” you tried to form the words in your head before they tumbled out of your mouth incorrectly. “Sam loves you, Dean. He’s just…he’s tired. Does that make it right? Not necessarily. You’re his brother, but this life…it’s not the life he wanted.”

“And you think I wanted it?!” His voice raised as he looked at you incredulously.

“I’m not saying that. I’m just saying that you and Sam are different people,” you tried to explain carefully, reminding yourself again that it’s not you, it’s Purgatory.

He seemed to relax as he remembered this was you that he was talking to. “I’m sorry,” he groaned inwardly as he turned back in his stool to face the bar. “I would do absolutely anything for Sammy. I was lost when he was gone. I just thought he might do the same.” After a quick pull from his beer, he changed the subject. “So, what’d you do this past year?” Dean asked acrimoniously, as he glanced at you briefly and toyed with the paper label on his beer bottle.

You waited for a moment, just as the bartender placed your own beer in front of you. You moved it around in your hands for a few seconds. Like Dean, your fingers found the sticker on the bottle and began to pick at it so you wouldn’t have to look at him. “I looked for you,” you answered slowly before you pulled the beer to your mouth and took a sip. You felt his gaze now, his head turned to watch you as if he was surprised to hear what you said. “I hunted a little, here and there. Mostly just when I stumbled upon a job, though.”

“...you looked for me?”

You were surprised that he was surprised. It was your turn to turn your head back to him to meet his gaze. “Of course I did,” you said hesitantly. “I tried everything, Dean. I interrogated demons, I tried to make a deal, I tried to summon Crowley–”

He cut you off very quickly. “Woah, woah, woah,” his eyes were narrowed in on you now and you watched his entire body tense. “You tried to make a deal? And summoning Crowley?” He was pissed. You didn’t care.

“None of it worked, Dean. The crossroad demons said they didn’t know where you were, but I didn’t believe them…though I’m wondering if they really didn’t, since you were in Purgatory,” you were mostly just reading your own internal dialogue at this point. “I’m not sure how that works, exactly.” You nibbled gently on your bottom lip as you processed your thoughts.

“Are you insane?” He was still pissed. His voice rose a bit in volume and you glanced around to see the handful of other bar patrons glance in your direction.

“Oh, calm down,” you said in a hushed tone while you rolled your eyes. “Like you wouldn’t do the same thing.” Dean knew it was true, but he still wasn’t happy. “Again, none of it worked anyway.”

“You know better than that,” he shook his head, the disappointment bled through his words. But somewhere mixed in with the frustration, you heard gratitude.

“And you know better, too. I wasn’t just going to sit on my ass or ride off into the sunset like everything was fine,” you still couldn’t find his gaze. It was easier to stare at the glass bottle between your hands.

He didn’t respond right away. The sound of Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar On Me” was playing on the jukebox now, and it was the only noise you could hear just over the chatter of the other people in the bar. “Thanks,” you weren’t sure you heard him right away, but you felt his fingers graze the top of one of your hands that was clasped around the bottle. “I’m really glad I’ve got you. So if some shit ever goes down again, no goin' off and making deals to save me. If I came back and somethin' had happened to you..." his voice trailed off. You would spend a lot of time wondering what he had wanted to say, but chose not to. Instead, you moved your head to look straight into those green eyes, and that’s when you noticed it. A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, and while his eyes were still sad, you saw a glimmer of hope.

A/N: Thank you for reading! As always, I am always open to any feedback you may have :)

Tag List: @jackles010378 @ladysparkles78 @hallecarey1 @zepskies @lyarr24

#supernatural fanfiction #flufftober2023 #flufftober 2023 #01 #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fan fiction #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural ff #spn fanfic #spn ff #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester fanfiction

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pubbybutch · 11 months ago

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Towers Built, and Towers Falling Down - 2

MEDIEVAL AU KNIGHT! ABBY X CHUBBY! PRINCESS! READER

CW: Bath Sex, AFAB Reader, Princess-Y Nicknames, Sweet and Caring Abby, No Explicit Aftercare, Sneaking Around.

Word Count : 2K

(This is a part two to this fic here)

MINORS MEN AND GENERAL CUNTS DNI

Steam fills the air in the stone walled chamber as jug after jug of hot water is poured into the large wooden basin, the servants file in and out of the door as the broad shoulders of Abby keep the door propped open while you sit watching idly from the small cushioned stool in the corner of the washroom. The various tapestries adorning the walls give an air of comfort, a needed distraction as you wait for the preparations to finish, the cold air from the open window causing your skin to goosebump whilst sitting in nothing but a light linen shift. One of the chambermaids proceeds to pour a sweet smelling oil into the warm water, as she dips a hand into the bath you break your silence, “What is that? The oil, I mean.”

She turns to you, curtseying. “Rose, my lady. As far as I am aware.” Lifting the jug, she bows again and leaves. The quiet that now falls across the chamber is comfortable as Abby steps inside, the door closing behind her as she does so. Turning from you to face the door you watch the muscles in her back and across her shoulders ripple as she slides the heavy iron latch down, locking the door and protecting you from any intrusion. Stepping behind the willow branch screen, you strip off the final layer of your shift and lay it across the stool you’d previously been sitting on. As you step out from behind the screen you watch Abby as she catches sight of your nude state and rolls up the sleeves on the tight grey peasant shirt she has on, “Well princess, the water isn’t going to get any warmer.” She speaks with a deep smirk and playfulness in her eyes as she holds out a hand for you to climb into the washbasin.

“Abby. Won’t you get in with me?”

She folds her arms and shakes her head, “I can’t.”

You wrap your arms around her waist, pressing naked curves against her clothed torso. “Please Abby?” Your eyes meet hers, wide and filled with a faux innocence that never failed to cause a pink tint to flood the knight’s neck and cheeks. “Princess. You and I both know that we shouldn’t.

“Just because we shouldn’t doesn’t mean we can’t.”

She huffs a sigh, but steps back from your embrace immediately missing the warmth of your thick arms and proceeds to tug the soft cloth of her shirt over her head leaving her in her thin chest bindings and linen trousers.

“Get in and I’ll finish getting undressed, princess.”

You nod in the negative, blatantly refusing to follow her instructions. With a lifted eyebrow and a smirk, Abby corners you against the basin and her body. “Wanna try that again?” You repeat your previous action, shaking your head but this time with far less vigor and conviction.

“One more time. Get in.”

A final refusal and suddenly you’re flying. Strong arms have wrapped around your thighs, large warm hands gripping under the curve of your ass and you’re thrown over her shoulder. Leaving you fully exposed. The water splashes around you with some spilling out of the tub as Abby unceremoniously plops you into the warm bath water.

“HOW DARE YOU?!” You gasp, feigning anger as you move so that a soft hand covers your heart. Abby takes your other hand into hers as she kneels down on the stone floor, she places a small peck to your knuckle before looking you dead in the eyes. “If my lady can find it in her heart to forgive me, I would be most obliged. Or pardon me, actually.”

“Actually,” you pause to bat your eyelashes at her, “my knight. I don’t think I can forgive you.”

“Oh, and may I ask why, my lady?” The smirk in Abby’s voice causes heat to crawl up your neck as she teases you in a similar way to how you’d teased her. It was revenge. And Abby was extremely good at revenge.

“Well- I- it’s because…”

“Because?” She prompts through her smirk.

“You haven’t earned my forgiveness! And certainly not a pardon.”

At this exclamation, Abby rises from her kneeling as she gets up with a stretch, with a few long strides she positions herself behind you. You try to turn to face her in this new arrangement, but are met with the sound of water spilling out over the rim of your wooden prison and onto the stone below. With a warm hand on your shoulder, Abby guides you back to face the wall as you had been previously.

Now with only your hearing to give you any indication of the blonde’s position behind you, you close your eyes in an attempt to focus in on the microscopic sounds she was making. ‘Rustling… maybe her trousers? No, she still had her belt on…’

As Abby gets undressed as quietly as possible knowing the in’s and out’s of your mind, how it works and how you’re most likely trying to figure out every move she’s making. Sliding the linen down her thighs and to the ground, she doesn’t let it fall but instead sets it gently onto the floor, the soft brown leather of her belt going with it, the small knife that was normally sheathed in it having been set to the side before you’d even gotten into the bath. Her chest bindings follow and she rubs the little red creases the material has left on her skin. As she finishes undressing, she bends to peek over your shoulder to see your eyes still tightly closed, the creases that line your face as it scrunches in concentration. The sight causes a light puff of air to escape her lungs, a quiet laugh.

The proximity of the noise causes you to jump, how she had managed to get as close as she had is beyond you and you tilt your head, eyes now open wide, and are met with the visage of an extremely naked mountain of a woman. “I- uh…” You trail off as you take in every inch of her skin, the freckles you wished that you could see every hour of the day, each little curve of her muscle causing heat to flood your whole body.

“Come on, princess. You have to shift up.”

You scooch forward and pull your legs in together as Abby steps over the rim and into the bath, as she sits down her body displaces a large amount of water. Thick muscled calves slide past the plush of your hips and thighs, long legs rub against your comparatively shorter ones as her hands move against the rolls of your sides and down to rest on the curve of your stomach. You lean into the warmth of her broad chest and she leans into your back, lips meet the nape of your neck and shoulders as she peppers chaste sweet kisses across the skin.

Taking in deep breaths, the warm, damp air fills your lungs as Abby continues her show of affection. Her hands that had remained stationary on your stomach begin to trail lower down the little shelf above your folds, she narrowly avoids touching your core as her nails dig little dents and raise the skin of your upper thighs. This elicits a high pitched whine to slip from your lips and the sound is met with a slight pinch to the flesh of your inner thigh, “Now princess, is that an appropriate sound-”

“No! But…”

“But what, your highness?” Her breath is hot on the shell of your ear. When you don’t say anything, she continues to prompt you, “Tell me what you want.”

As you wriggle further against the blonde sat behind you, her hands slide into place. One with the fingers spread wide to encompass the underside of your breast, rough skin squeezing the soft flesh. Occasionally a finger rubs up against your nipple, the water from her digits wetting the pebbled buds. Soft whimpers fall from your mouth as Abby’s mouth runs kisses and nibbles as she spreads your lips under the water.

Fingers running through the course tight curls of hair, one hand reaches round keeping you spread open as a single thick finger tip runs circles around your clit. Teasing. Circles, round and round but never applying full pressure or coming into full contact with the little nub. She occasionally slips a straight line across your clit, a chuckle falls from her mouth as you push against her hand - desperation becoming even more evident.

“Abby please-!” You whine.

“Words, princess.”

“Fuck me. Please. Fuck m-,” you’re cut off by your own body betraying you, a moan rattles out of your body as slides two thick fingers inside and gives into you, applying straight pressure to your desperate clit with the flat of her thumb.

In and out, she plunges her fingers deep inside of you, stretching. Your breathing is heavy. She continues at a steady pace, constant and smooth fluid movements help to build a tight pressure in your lower stomach. As she continues, the pressure builds and builds and builds. You writhe in her grasp, strong biceps wrap lovingly around you squishing the soft flesh slightly as she attempts to hold you in place as she continues to fuck your weeping cunt.

“You feel so warm around me, Princess.” The blonde whispers into one of your ears, before moving her mouth to leave a warning nip at the lobe of the ear at the other side, “keep your voice down, if you want to finish at any point soon.”

As you feel yourself getting closer and closer, your thighs close on impulse but Abby’s thick wrist doesn’t stop and her fingers don't rest. Not even for one second. You whip around, moaning as water seeps and splashes onto the floor with your movements.

A knock on the door causes you to freeze but Abby keeps going, seemingly not caring.

A muffled voice asks through the door, “Are you alright?” And as you struggle to catch your breath, you squeak out a quick but satisfactory ‘Yes! I’m fine.’

Abigail is relentless and her fingers keep edging you closer and closer. As you two hear the attendant leaves, you cum. One of her hands covers your mouth and you bite into the flesh while she barely winces, too busy keeping you quiet and whispering sweet comforts into your ear.

She bends you forward by your waist and slides out from behind you, you watch her firm muscled ass grab walk away and grab a bathrobe from a stool in the corner, her feet leaving a trail of wet foot prints to where she now stands with her arms outstretched holding the robe out for you to slide on. She watches with dark, needy eyes as you emerge from the water, she watches as droplets fall down your body and gathers in the folds of skin, gods does she want to fuck you again… but she settles for running her hands along the soft plush of your sides.

“I am slightly disappointed I didn’t get to return the favour, Abigail.”

“Oh really? How’s about you meet me in the stable tomorrow morning?” She quips as she gets redressed, you’re left to marvel at how only the very ends of her hair got wet, and you’re left nodding before fully processing what she’s said.

She presses a chaste kiss to your lips and leaves but not before peeking her head back in, “see you then, princess.”

If you liked this please reblog, thicc reblogs save writer lives.

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #tlou x reader #tlou #knight au #medieval au #abby x reader smut #abby anderson smut #abby x you #abby anderson fan fiction #chubby queer reader #chubby reader #chubby wlw reader

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c0ld0utside · 6 months ago

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Beach Centaur father adopts a siren kid that is super timid?

Siren kid (timid) Centaur dad

Warnings: (Let me know if I’ve missed any): Mentions/descriptions of violence, poorly written timid reader, manipulation

Criticism + advice is welcome, here we go

At first, Jordan didn’t care much for humans. As far as he knew all they did was whine, take, and fight over the smallest things. Not to mention, their other behaviors were… interesting. So, like most other species that the humans deemed “monsters,” he ignored them. He focused on his own life in his home in the woods, tending to his pond and garden and admiring his collection of fish. Ignorance is bliss, as they say.

This, however, was something he couldn’t ignore.

It’s true that voices carry. The news that some human sailors had killed a pod of merfolk spread like wildfire through Jordan's coastal town. A few weeks later, a small pod of merfolk washed up on the shore, their tails sloppily lopped off. Everyone was in an uproar. The outrage was understandable; most species had been allied with sirens for centuries. Their songs and stories were loved by all.

Jordan’s dislike for humans grew with every new report. Being humans, they got curious and wanted to explore. Instead of asking for help like any other sane person, however, they settled on harming those who would be happy to lend a hand.

So when he found you washed up on the rocky part of the shore, covered in cuts and a large, nasty gash, he was more than happy to help. Jordan swaddled you in wet towels and hurried home with you in his arms. He clutched you close to his chest the entire time, and you may or may not have heard him muttering prayers to the Gods under his breath. Originally, he had planned on fishing and collecting trinkets to sell, but you were far better. You were precious. A helpless, innocent little thing. How could anyone want to harm you?

[...]

The trip back didn’t take long. It turns out the stranger lives up on the cliffs. It’s different from observing them below, somewhat hidden by the fog. Seeing that first thing in the morning always filled you with a sense of something that you couldn’t explain. Trees and greenery tinted by the mist…beautiful yet ominous. Up here, however, the trees are thinner than they seem, covered in moss and fungi. Trails are constantly battling with plants growing back over them, too.

“We’re almost there, little one,” the centaur said. “May I call you that, by the way? ‘Little one’? I hope you don’t mind.” You respond by curling up further into yourself, trying to hide. The stranger responds to that by rubbing soothing circles on your shoulder.

When you arrive, he nudges you carefully. “Look,” the stranger says. “Isn’t it pretty?” You look up, and he’s right. It’s beautiful. A cozy wooden house with a large decorated pond surrounded by odd thin trees, wildflowers, and shrubbery everywhere. If you squint past the fog, you can see the ocean down below. Home, your heart aches.

The centaur gently lowered you into a closed-off part of his pond- an area he had for whenever his fish got injured somehow. “Wait here,” he said quietly, rushing into his home and returning a few moments later with a jug of…something. He slowly poured some of it into the pond, the liquid smelling absolutely wild. “I don’t know much about sirens or merfolk, so I figured the medicine I use when my fish get hurt might help.” The centaur explained sheepishly. “Are you comfortable? What do you want to eat? Have you had strawberries before?”

He couldn’t stop bombarding you with questions like a fussy mom when her kid is sick. “No,” you answered, voice weak. Sure, this centaur was helping you, but you had no idea who he was, where you were, or if he would hurt you. Was he luring you into a false sense of security like those humans had? It all happened so quickly. You and your family had been lounging in the shallow waters and basking in the sun. Your mother was humming a tune when a boat approached. Some humans called your parents over and the next thing you knew there were harpoons and nets and screams and cries.

The stranger must’ve noticed you sinking into your mind because he (to the best of his ability) knelt down at the edge of the pond. “Hey, you’re okay here, I promise. I just want to take care of you.” The stranger says, keeping his tone as comforting as possible. He frowns when you slip underwater, peeking out a few moments later. “Okay, let me try this,” the centaur mutters under his breath. “My name is Jordan, and I’m going to help you get better. I swear on my heart.” He introduces, making a cross-my-heart motion. “Now, I’m going to go get you some strawberries. Let’s see if you like them, yeah?” Jordan announces, getting up and trotting away.

[...]

Jordan doesn’t quite get it. He’s trying his best. He keeps his voice soft, he talks to you, and he tells you interesting things, like the weird scent you smell when he pours the medicine into the water is tea tree oil.And that the hammering noise you heard is a bird called a woodpecker. Oh- and that pretty fish swimming around you is called a koi fish. And aren’t those strawberries sweet?

Yet it’s always the same. You barely answer, only shaking your head or nodding. You hide underwater most of the time, hanging out with the fish and poking at the underwater plants. If his voice is anything but soft you freak out and disappear into the pond, back to the safety of rocks and pebbles and weird-looking fish and plants.

That’s not the only problem. The news of human attacks on sirens and merfolk is getting worse. Apparently, humans are treating them as they would seafood. As if that couldn’t get any worse, reports of kidnappings turned into busted “fish farms” after clans raided human settlements in search of the missing sea creatures.

Jordan can’t possibly take you back to the ocean now. It’s too dangerous, and he’s getting attached. You’re not some prized fish, oh no. You’re a treasure that he has to protect. So when you finally muster up the courage and ask him to take you home in that nervous, tiny voice of yours, he’s quick to say no.

He knows you won’t understand right away, so he tells you things he’s heard through the grapevine from his time in town.

“I went to sell some of the vegetables from my garden today, and saw a poster saying that a pod of mermaids has been taken by humans.”

“I went to buy these shells to remind you of home. …I also heard that a group of humans killed some more sirens today.”

“That market is full of depressing news nowadays. A group of werewolves found that missing pod. I don’t know how they’re ever going to recover, kept in those cramped tanks. Poor things.”

“You don’t need to worry about that happening to you as long as you stay here with me. You’re safe up here!”

“Humans have no reason to come up here. And if they do, I’ll take care of them. Promise.”

Slowly but surely, it works. You stop asking to go home. You start talking to him. It isn’t much at first, but Jordan’s smile grows every time you give him more than just a few words. He’s also made a whole new pond just for you, decorating it with shells and sea glass and other ocean-y things he got from the market. Jordan only goes down there to sell his crops and decorative plants, along with seeds in case anyone wants to try making their own garden. The rest of his time is devoted to tending to his garden and spending time with you.

Like a good, proper guardian.

I'm finally free for the summer, expect a lot of things. To the people who did not read the pinned post; requests are closed for now. Will admit that like my Miguel O'hara one, this wasn't my favorite mostly because I think it's bland and I don't know how to write timid/shy characters just yet. At least I gave it a go.

#yandere #platonic #platonic yandere #yandere dad #yandad #yandere platonic #yandere imagine #dad yandere #centaur #yandere centaur #siren!reader #dad centaur #centaur dad #familial yandere

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digitalvision · 10 months ago

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Wooden Tableware to Elevate Your Meals

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starogeorgina · 4 months ago

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𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐯𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫

Paring: Oberyn Martell x Baratheon reader

Warnings: None

1.02

You watch as the hot wax runs onto the surface of the rolled-up scroll, the color of which is much like blood. You press a stamp onto it and wait for the impression of a stag to set into the wax.

“Sending another letter to King's Landing?”

Looking over your shoulder, you smile. “Uncle, I had no idea you were there.”

In jest, he wags his finger. “You’re a very bad liar. Deceit wasn’t a Lannister trait you inherited.”

“Well, as my mother likes to remind me, I am my father’s daughter.” Your uncle was right; you were an awful liar. And you knew it was him approaching because Meraxes always hissed at him. “But no, I’m sending this to Winterfell.”

Tyrion places the jug of wine he brought with him in the middle of the small table. He sits across from you, smirking, “Oh, pray tell. The king's daughter, who’s going to marry a prince, sends love letters to her former betrothed. How scandalous.”

When you are happy that the scroll is securely sealed, you place it with the other two you wrote. “You sound like a gossiping lady at court, uncle.”

“That is not a denial, y/n.”

Rolling your eyes, you huff, “Of course I’m not writing to Robb; I’m writing to Jon.”

Not long after your tenth name-day, Lord Stark traveled south with two of his sons, his eldest son Robb, and his bastard Jon Snow. You liked both of the lord's sons, but only Robb made you blush. Your father had proposed to betroth you to Robb, but your mother fought against it for years until she finally got her way and you were promised to another.

“Ah yes, Ned Starks bastard. Do let me know if you ever find out who the boy's mother is.” He takes a large gulp of wine, then lets out a satisfied sighing noise. “That truly has been a mystery at court.”

“And betray my friends' trust? Never,” you chuckle. “I’ve written to my father and siblings, but I’ve yet to receive anything back.”

“If it’s any consolation, I very much doubt my sister is letting them receive it. I’m sure Myrcella and Tommen would both be thrilled to know you’ve written to them.”

“I hope so.”

Tommen and Marcella were both you and impressionable; you didn’t want them to think you’d abandon them deliberately, gone to start a new life while leaving them behind without a second thought.

—

Burying your toes into the sand, you enjoy the feeling of warmth surrounding your feet. You lean to the side and dip your finger into the cool water of the pond, causing a ripple effect on the surface. After a few moments, you watch as several colorful fish swim closer to your finger to investigate; one of them brushes against it, causing you to giggle slightly.

Feeling eyes on you, you look up and see Ellaria walking in the opposite direction across a wooden bridge. She was looking over her shoulder and glaring right at you.

The people of Dorne were rightfully still furious about the horrific deaths of Elia Martell and her children, and the anger was aimed in the direction of house Lannisters. Which has resulted in you being very lonely. Most people were indifferent or just outright hostile towards you. The only people who spoke to you daily were your uncle Tyrion and your lady-in-waiting. But you were the daughter of the king, so no matter how you felt, you needed to hold your head up high and not let them see how badly you were hurting.

“Princess.”

“Prince Oberyn.”

Oberyn stands in front of you with his hands behind his back gracefully. Your mouth goes dry. Oberyn was tall and slender, with lustrous black hair. Even now, with his eyes squinting slightly because of the sun shining in them, you avoid his gaze, afraid you’d get drawn in by the darkness of them.

“Where is Lord Tyrion?”

A Dornish beauty who works in a pillow house had caught your uncle’s eye, so he would be most likely absent for the rest of the day. You click your tongue. “He has gone to drink the finest wine and bed the most beautiful woman.”

“Oh,” he laughs.

Your gaze remains on the pond as the prince sits down beside you. Oberyn was very flirtatious with both men and women; however, a mere simple interaction would cause your cheeks to burn.

“I’ve got you a gift,” he says, pulling a book from behind his back and giving it to you. “When we first met, you said your septa only told you what they wanted you to know.”

You read the title out loud, “The Songs of Robert's Rebellion.”

Oberyn seems intrigued as he watches your reaction closely. His intention was never to offend you, but when he heard the book had been written, he thought you might find it interesting.

You straighten your shoulders up, place the book on your lap, and look up at him, finally locking eyes, and it’s him. “They say my father had the strength of a giant; the weapon he used in battle was a spiked iron warhammer that was so heavy that Lord Stark could barely lift it himself. In his youth, my father was known to be quite fearless.”

“I dare say he was.”

Your lips press together into a thin line. It was easy for you to get carried away talking about your father. You want to believe the version of his heroics that the septa told you, but it was just a lie. They knew it, you knew it, and Prince Obryen knows it, but no one dares speak the truth.

“Are the two of you close?”

“Yes, we are. Are you close with your daughters?” It was common knowledge that the prince had several bastard daughters. You had briefly met his eldest, Obara, whom Obryen fathered at the age of thirteen.

“They are my whole world.”

“All my life, I’ve heard King Robert Baratheon was strong as a bull and fearless in battle, a man who loved nothing better than war. But he doesn’t feel that way.” Your father shared that he never felt so alive as when he was winning his throne, but from the moment he sat on the iron throne, he felt dead inside.

“Even a man with a reputation such as the king has a softness to him. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have named his firstborn daughter after his mother.”

Crossing your arms over you, you hold the book to your chest and smile softly. “Thank you for the gift; it was a thoughtful gesture.”

#game of thrones #oberyn martell fanfiction #oberyn martell fanfic #Oberyn Martell #oberyn martell/you #oberyn martell x you #game of thrones fanfiction #sweet viper #oberyn martell x reader #Oberyn Martell/reader

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uglypastels · 2 years ago

Text

Not Wholly Evil |I| Pirate!Eddie au

summary: as the daughter of the Governor, there is quite a heavy prize set on your safe return home, and the captain will not let anything come between him and his bounty.

Series Masterlist

word count: 5.6k

"semi dark fic" - READ the warnings:. (gun/sword)violence. blood. minor character death. allusions to suicide. kidnapping. imprisonment. alcohol. open and deep sea. pirates are pigs: frequent mentions of non-con and allusions to assault, but it does not actually occur. malnourishment. abuse. manhandling.

There might be a mention of other ST characters, and for plot sake, everyone is an adult here, just coz I don't want fetus pirates running around, but they are not really relevant to the plot.

Chapter 1: The Death of the Red Tail

“I dare say that we are all savages under the cloak that civilization fashions for us."

- Rafael Sabatini, Captain Blood

You were startled awake, once more, by the sound of the metal scraping over the wooden planks. Again, the harsh noise pricked at your ears. Over the past few days, you had done your best to get used to all the loud noises aboard. Still, they tended to occur at the most random of times, usually when you had finally managed to fall asleep, pulling you right back to reality, which, ironically, was your nightmare.

‘Didn’t mean to wake you up, Princess,’ the man chuckled, to which you did not respond. You never responded to what he, or any of them, had to say. Instead, you barely acknowledged him as he passed your jug of water between the steel bars. The roughness of his movements made the already meek amount spill out. ‘Breakfast’s served.’

It was dark below deck, with the only light coming through the small windows atop the walls, letting sun rays hit the ground at your feet in a circle. It was just enough of a light source for you to see what you were surrounded with. Barrels and crates filled with Gods know what. Next to you was a thin fleece that was supposed to keep you warm through the night but barely ever sufficed at its job.

After the jug of water, he threw you your breakfast: a piece of stale bread and a severely bruised apple. The bread fell into your lap, but you managed to catch the fruit quite easily, which you then also put down in your lap, looking down at your old dirty dress, not saying a word. Miserably, you toyed with the slice of bread, the lack of appetite weirdly not corresponding to your hunger. The food was far from edible, but it was also the only thing that came close to it, so it would make due. You had taught yourself to fight through the dryness and tastelessness.

‘A thank you would be nice, Princess,’ he snarled, but you didn’t even look up at his comment. Ever since you had been brought down there, you had made it your goal to exchange as few words as possible with these men, even when they started rattling the bars around, trying to catch your attention. Even when they slammed their hands on it, making you jump. But, finally, after a third slam, you snapped.

‘You gone deaf, too, now?’ he spoke louder.

‘I would be more than happy to thank you if there was anything to be thankful for.’ You rolled your eyes. You had grabbed small opportunities to ask for more food and water, begging to be let out of the tiny cell to stretch your legs and get some fresh air and every time you were met with nothing. It was the definition of insanity, wasn’t it? To do the same thing expecting different results? But you weren’t expecting anything. You were hoping. Desperate that something would change one day, and the odds would turn in your favour. Just once. That was all you asked of the universe.

‘We could easily let you starve, so better shut it.’ He pointed at you sternly, but you knew it was a big bluff. And it angered you. A rage slowly cooking inside you rose to a boiling point. You couldn’t keep it in any longer.

‘No, you shut it,’ as swiftly as you could manage on your weak legs, you got up and made your way over to the bars that separated you and the man. He backed away, clearly not having anticipated your sudden move, but he was too slow, and you still managed to snatch at his collar, pulling him back to you. Then, gritting your teeth, you spat your words into his face. ‘I have been stuck here for days, begging for the smallest amounts of decency from you, and so far, I have been laughed at in my face every. Single. Time.

‘So, you can try and scare me with your empty threats, but I know you need me alive and well for you to get your gold. Dead, I am worth nothing. So, I doubt your captain would enjoy hearing that something happened to me on your watch.’

‘You wouldn’t dare,’ his eyes narrowed into tentative slits, as did yours.

‘I don’t think you really want to wait and see if I do. Because I don’t know about you, but that rope over there looks like it would make a grand necklace. Do you think that beam up there could hold me up?’ you cocked your head up to a point at the ceiling. His eyes followed your movements and the rope hanging just arm’s length away from the holding cell. Suddenly, his throat tightened as he tried to swallow.

‘What do you want?’

‘I want to get out of here,’ you said, gritting your teeth. You didn’t dare look away from his eyes, which were just as cold as you felt. You thought you might finally have cracked one of them for a second, but then he managed to pull himself out of your grip. He kept muttering curse words directed at you as he climbed the stairs up the deck. ‘Remember, I have nothing to lose!’ you shouted out after him, one final attempt, just in time before he slammed the trapdoor behind him.

You sat back down. Heart beating against your ribs and a smile covering your lips for the first time in a long time. The adrenaline from the little stunt quickly deflated out of you, and you folded your legs into your chest.

It was stupid. It would only anger them more, and the last thing a person wants is to be stuck on a ship, in the middle of an ocean, with a crew of scoundrels. For people like them... the smallest of annoyances could cost you your life. No matter how much it was worth to them.

Biting into your apple, ignoring the slight sourness, you tried to keep your breathing steady. Then, with closed eyes, you listened to the sea hitting the ship's side as it sailed on through them. If you sat there long enough, you could almost make yourself believe that you were not locked up in a small cell at the bottom of a rotting ship. That you were, in fact, in your own cabin on the Red Tail. Your father’s ship, sailing home.

You were not meant to be there. You had insisted on coming along, wanting to see something of the world, being exhausted of never going further beyond the outskirts of your city. You had been yearning for that space.

It had been a sunny day, with just enough wind blowing through the sails to progress the journey, only a little longer until you would reach your destination. The crew was happy, relieved to be so close to the end. As much as it was an honour to work under the Governor’s orders, to sail for weeks on end over the open sea was a dangerous and exhausting task.

Everything suddenly changed when someone yelled it out. You weren’t even sure what they had said, but by the reactions from everyone around you, it was easy to guess.

Pirates.

Before you could even ask to be sure, you were dragged back inside to the Captain’s quarters and told to hide. So, hide, you did.

It took the ship a while to make contact. And all this time, you remained seated under the oak desk. It was the calm before the storm. You knew the canons would soon go off, and the ships would be punched with holes. The pirates would jump ship; they would attack and destroy. You could hear it all happening outside. The swords clinking, the guns going off, the wreckage, and the screams. It was all too much.

The minutes between the canons were the worst. Your ears were still ringing, and all you could do was anticipate the subsequent explosion and the shaking of your whole world. And then they would go off, and you had to do your best to follow the orders you were given. Be still and be quiet. They would take care of it. Your safety was everyone’s priority.

And yet, you felt shame wash over you at the idea that you were hiding while the men were out there, fighting. You felt useless and small, like a child. Cradling yourself to make your being as small as you could underneath that desk. The canons only seemed to be getting louder and louder. You couldn’t block the thundering and destruction on the other side of the door.

Perhaps you had screamed. You couldn’t remember. Everything was a blur. But something must have given you away in the end. How could they have known you were aboard? In the captain’s quarters? Nothing else made sense, but they heard your panic. They could sense it, being the predators they were.

It took all of your inner power not to scream when the door to the quarters burst open. At first, you thought a cannonball must have just burst through the wall, but it was much worse. Pairs of boots slowly made their way towards you. You closed your eyes and tried to stay calm; in your mind, the words of your mother’s lullaby swept by. The same old song she used to sing you during dark and stormy nights. That was all this was… a storm… and it would soon pass…

‘Gotcha,’ the voice sounded acidic and vile. You opened your eyes to be met with a pair of stormy grey ones, so cold it made your blood freeze. He smiled at you with a toothy grin, which only made you crawl back under the desk. There was nowhere for you to go, and he knew that. So did his lanky friend as they both reached out for you and pulled you out from beneath the furniture. Your skirt hiked up as it grazed over the floor, and you did your best to keep it down and over your legs.

‘No, please, no,’ you tried to sound as assertive as possible, ignoring your urges to scream and cry out. With little care, they pulled you up on your feet. Standing face to face with them almost should have taken away some of your fear, for you realised they could not be much older than you, perhaps even younger, but you still felt your legs shake.

‘You gonna come with us?’ he wouldn’t stop smiling at you, which was unnerving. But, of course, only a truly evil person would find joy in such circumstances, a severely disturbed and corrupt individual.

You took your shot, trying to wring your arms out of their hold. You thought you might have slipped out of one of their grips for a second, but then he pushed you forward, nearly making you fall as you stumbled over your feet. With each step they made you take, you tried to defy them, thrash around like a freshly caught fish, really, much to your own embarrassment. But it wasn’t doing any good. The net just tightened around you with each attempt at freedom.

You had imagined what was happening in the rest of the ship, but the reality you were met with was even worse. The vessel was in shambles. The broken mast had fallen, and the sails were ripped to shreds. The clinking of swords was still coming from all angles. Some of the men noticed you, captured by the enemies and tried to reach you. Fighting off the scoundrels with their long swords, to no avail. The fight was not a fair match. The people you travelled with were mostly sailors, never having learned how to fight correctly. They were all going off of survival instincts.

You heard your name being called to you from the side, and you could see the worried face of admiral Carver as he pushed his way through lines of enemies. You made another attempt to free yourself from the men's grips, pulling yourself toward the admiral, the man appointed to keep you safe throughout your journey… to think that mere days ago, you had both joked he was nearly futile in these endeavours.

The chaos around you ensued as men fought, bled, and died.

The blood was everywhere.

It was all going too fast. The hold the cruel men held on you was too tight to attempt anything, and before you knew what was happening, you were being led across the plank connecting the two ships.

A gunshot went off. One of the men holding on to you went limp, letting go of you. You didn’t dare to look, but you could tell by the shift of weight on the wooden bridge that there was one person less standing beside you. And indeed, a second later, a splash followed as his body hit the water beneath you.

Not by choice, you turned around the thin piece of wood as the other man holding you looked over to where the gunshot came from. Carver stood at the foot of the plank. Gun barrel still smoking, pointing right at your aggressor. The admiral had an admirable shot, so you had no worries about his aim. But that shot never came. The two men on the opposite sides of the bridge locked eyes with intimidation coming off both of them in great amounts, but the trigger was never pulled. Before Carver could, you screamed in horror as tears stung your eyes.

You were pulled the few final steps across the plank, almost pushed down to the ground, for you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the sight of your loyal admiral falling to the deck of his ship. His white shirt was stained red, and the staining only grew larger and larger. He had just enough time to look down at his bleeding chest before he fell to his knees. The sword stuck out from his back.

‘No!’ your scream pierced through everyone’s ears as you tried to get out of your capturer’s hold and run back to your own ship, to your people, but it was too late. They had removed the wood that connected the vessels. You were stuck, and the Red Tail seemed significantly smaller.

It was sinking.

It only took a few minutes before everyone and the viscous sea ate everything you knew. Days later, it was still painful to look out at the horizon, seeing the vastness of the waters.

The seemingly neverending darkness that had swallowed those who fought for you, hoping to keep you safe. And for what… you were now stuck in this prison. Eating the damned apple. For the first few days, you tortured yourself by refusing their offers of food. A form of protest that no one seemed to be much impressed by. The myths of poor Persephone had come to your mind in those moments. Thinking how the goddess had been tricked by the evil Hades, all for a measly pit of a fruit.

But your body screamed for nutrients, and you could not deprive yourself much more of your own life. To die at sea could be an honour for many, but not in a dark cell captured by the enemy. You had no intentions of dying because of your stubbornness, but you would never give in to what they wanted. If it came to be, you would pass on your own terms.

It was days now since the Red Tail sank. During your first moments on board, you had a naive hope that you had not been the only person taken. That somewhere around, someone else was here with you. A known face, a name you didn’t have to fear. The idea of the possibility brought you a little comfort, but soon you realised the harsh truth. You were entirely on your own here. But worse, even, was that you realised that, perhaps, death in battle and the fierce ocean waves would have been a kinder sentence than the horrors awaiting you aboard this vessel.

It had all started in the moments the Red Tail was abandoned. You kept your eyes on its crow nest, reaching out from above the water like a desperate hand in need of a saviour.

But you had no option but to dwell on the wreckage or the lost souls of your friends. Not when you were surrounded by dozens of men looking hungrily at you as if you were nothing but a piece of meat for them to devour. They were closing in on you; there was nowhere to go. Any direction you looked…

Surrounded by wild men screaming and tugging at you from each side, pulling you from side to side like a rag doll. They all wanted a little fun, but playtime was cut short rather quickly by the simple sounds of boots tapping over the floorboards. Everyone looked up as his voice loomed over everybody:

‘Well, well, well, what do we have here?’ It sounded almost whimsical, bemused. Everyone froze as the captain approached his crew. Even you did, looking up as he walked down the quarterdeck towards the large helm. The floor creaked with each step. The chains and beads hanging around his neck and hair accompanied him in a chorus. Not another word needed to be shared.

He stood there, looking down at what was occurring beneath him. Fingers clad in silver and gold rings tapping away at the handles of the ship’s wheel. When you looked a few inches higher, you recognised that his eyes were directly on you. There was no hiding or denying it. He was staring deep into your eyes. The corner of his mouth tilted up in the slightest smirk. The position in which the two of you stood made you feel like you were some kind of act for him. An entertainment piece for him to enjoy in his own time despite you being surrounded by all his men. It felt perverse. Disgusting. You quickly turned away.

But the image of those dark brown eyes stuck with you. Days later, and it still haunted you, the day you met Captain Eddie Munson.

The name was not much by itself. The stories that followed it brought fear onto people’s faces. For years now, you had overheard the people back home speaking tales of the notorious ocean bandit. The man who had sailed the seas with sails as dark as his eyes and soul.

You had never expected much from a man with a name like that, but you were quickly proven wrong.

The respect he had gained over the crew was evident; you could see it just by how everyone had paved the way for their captain and his strides of confidence as he made his way down onto the deck. There was an energy that came from within him, this dangerous confidence. Maybe because of this, you felt like ignoring his eye contact would be a shot worth taking, something to crack that filthy grin on his face as he neared you. The crew had widened their circle to make space for their captain and you, but you took a step back at each he brought forward. Your attempt was quickly stopped by whoever pushed you again right into his chest. The captain grinned at the collision, almost politely, apologetically, but it made you sick to the stomach.

He looked up from you to look at his men. 'Is anyone going to answer me?' his voice carried, making you flinch from your proximity to it, just like the canons. It was too loud. Your ears had almost stopped ringing from the explosions.

'Was hiding in the officer's quarters, she was.' Someone called out from behind Captain Munson, which must have interested him. To be a woman in the officer's quarters on a ship like yours… meant status. You could tell he looked at you intently but would not give him the satisfaction, and your eyes did not give him the time of day, instead focusing on the highest mast and the sail flickering softly in the wind. Not pitch black like the tales told, but a sunburned copper. Even despite this, you could feel his look on you. He was taking all of you in, grinning over his newest conquest.

'And what was a pretty thing like her doing up there?' While his question was directed at everyone else but you, he dug his eyes deep into your soul. They were pulling you in, trance-like. A pair of irises darker than amber but just as warm and beautiful. A facade for a lie, as there was only cold and darkness beyond the warm hue, the cursed soul of a criminal. You had heard stories of men like him, but to find yourself in the midst of them, knowing it was more true than any other tale told at sea, to be held captive as if in an inescapable nightmare…

Being oppressed into looking him in the eyes, you couldn't help but think how he, and his comrades, could have been perfectly fine young men in any other life. Maybe they even had been until the ocean took them, poisoned them with the cursed fruit of the sea. Corruption was so quickly and easily committed.

His hand, filthy, covered in tattoos and heavy rings, reached out for your cheek, which you quickly turned away from him as far as possible. You had hoped it would show him you weren't some fragile little girl, that you weren't just easy prey, but the laughter that erupted around you proved you wrong. He chuckled as his fingers found a new grip on your chin, turning your face back harshly, so you had no other option but to look him in the eye again.

‘Name, my darling,’ he smiled wickedly, squeezing your cheeks until you could feel the tips of his fingers against your teeth before letting your face go, ‘come, speak up, or that tongue will have to find a new use for itself.’ His words came out like a hiss of a snake.

'I am not your darling,' you spat once he had released you, to little effect as more laughter kindled from the men around you. You wondered how much time you would have from the shock value if you went on a rampage and started to kick all of them in their most sensitive parts. How many would you be able to get through before one of the others would grab you, possibly throw you overboard?

The Captain kept on smiling. 'I must call you something if you do not care to share your name with us, my darling.' His erring grin burned your skin like a hot kettle fresh off the fire.

'Carver called her something, Captain,' someone had shouted out, and Munson’s reaction was immediate when they repeated your name. His eyes widened, his grin spiked at the corners, showing his teeth, and his brown eyes glistened with enthusiasm. Then, jaggedly, as if remembering something suddenly, he moved his head around, looking around.

'Carver? Our dear friend Carver?' He looked around for whoever it had been that had spoken up a second ago, 'where is that pesky little–'

'Stabbed,' the crewmate responded, 'bled out on the ship,' a chorus of cackling surfaced among the men, but the captain looked a bit disappointed, hiding his amusement. Meanwhile, the mention of what you witnessed moments before stung you deep within.

'Shame. I would have liked to have seen that,' he said, with astonishing indifference covering his face, then he turned to you again, 'so, you were Carver's little toy, huh? I assure you, dear, you'll have much more fun here than with that stale little bilge rat.'

'I am nobody's toy.' You held back on shoving the man away or trying to act out of self-defence against any of his movements, knowing that upsetting him would not end in any better scenario than you were in at that given moment.

'No, no,' he chuckled, pouting his lips in a manner of mocked sympathy, ‘A princess like you takes what she wants, don't you? We're similar in that way, I feel like— Where did you find her, Henderson, the officer's quarters, was it?' Perhaps the rest of his crew had been too slow to catch onto their captain's thoughts, but you could tell by the glint in his eye that he knew exactly who you were.

'If you know who I am,' you tried your luck, pushing your voice out as steady and loud as possible to convict some confidence, 'then you must release me at once!' you tried to fight the situation. Still, there was very little you could do to gain a reaction out of this crowd that had not originated in humour. Some men asked around, still trying to catch up on what was happening.

‘Now, why would I do that?’ The captain spoke directly to you, leaning in closer. So close you could smell the rum wafting off him. But he quickly leaned back to address his crew once more, answering all the inquiries in the crowd. 'This here, gents, is no one less than the Governor's daughter!'

It may have been silly of you to think that if they knew your status and position, they would find some newly gained respect for you. You would even find some small ounce of respect toward them as long as they would release you back to safety. But where would that even be… with your trusty ship now slowly greeting the bottom of the sea.

On the contrary, they had lost any image of you. From that moment on, you had become their most-priced possession. No plea would do good for it. It did not matter that mere minutes ago, you had seen them all make their way back, faces happy and arms full of treasures belonging to your family. What good were these riches when the real treasure stood tall in their centre? You were the one thing that would bring in the motherload they had been searching for for so long.

The captain looked back at you. 'Do not worry; we shall release you straight back into your father's arms– for a reasonable price, that is,' he looked around at his men, who all once again erupted in a jolly sea of laughter, matching his much softer depiction of humour. 'But for now….' He dramatically removed his hat as his unbrushed locks grazed the floor at his bow. When he rose back up, his grin had spread to the widest corners of his mouth, and his dark eyes were filled with menacing mischief, freezing your core at the thought of what he could possibly be holding back in his mind. 'Welcome aboard the Hellfire.'

The Hellfire. A crew that rampaged and torched anything that came in their way. Ships, harbours, cities, entire islands even… nothing stood a chance against the devils of the ocean… Devils, that’s what they were. Some truly believed they had all been cursed by something dark. Their lives had been given up to work for Satan as his harbingers of death and chaos.

But you would only see a little of the ship or experience much more time with these men, as, not long after your introduction, you were dragged down below deck and locked behind the thick steel bars. The captain kept his eyes locked on you until you disappeared into the trapdoor. His smile never faded. And so, it was a dreadful sight to see that days– perhaps even months– later, the smile still persisted.

How long precisely this nightmare had lasted, you were unsure. Or maybe you knew exactly. Would it have been better to lose count of the days and nights you had spent in this hell and think you might have lost your mind? Or to remember everything exactly how it had been, knowing what was and what would follow? For now, you were somewhere in between and unsure of what direction to go. A grey limbo where your body and mind were fighting themselves. Whether to give up or keep on battling your enemies. To forget would be to ease the pain, but it would also feel like losing the battle. Something you were not ready to do just yet. Though the memories still haunted your dreams. Was any of it worth it? That was the question that kept you up.

And it was answered, more or less, when the trapdoor opened. Just as you were about to take your last bite of the apple.

‘Will it be the rope then?’ you shouted as the footsteps came down to your level. Suddenly the apple felt much juicier, sweeter, and better than anything you had tasted in weeks. The odds would be in your favour, and you would get your way… even if it meant a measly ten minutes out in the cold sea air.

‘Be my guest, princess.’ The voice immediately made your stomach drop. The sweet taste of the fruit turned bitter, the bread even drier. You looked up in horror as Captain Munson appeared out of the shadows. He leaned against the thick bars that imprisoned you. Then, when no response came from you after a long moment, he asked, ‘what? Not so brave anymore, are we?’ The chuckle that followed was deep but genuine. He was enjoying everything about your fear and you; you could not let that stand.

With shaky legs, you got up and took the two steps to your barricade. Facing the captain should have been terrifying, but you were using your stubbornness to push any fears aside for the time being. As confidently as possible, you clenched your fists around two of the bars, gritted your teeth, and demanded: ‘Let me out.’

‘Have your parents never taught you manners, my darling?’ He did not seem to be phased by your attitude.

‘You dare speak of manners to me?’ You could not keep yourself composed. Heat was rising to your cheeks with anger. ‘You? The man that has kept me locked in a cage for days?’ Who knew where this confidence came from in front of the notorious pirate captain? If anyone had seen you act out like this as opposed to such a dangerous criminal as he was, they would assume you had a death wish, yet this was your attempt at survival.

He reached his hand out to brush it over your cheek, and unable to react quickly; you let him. It was as if his touch had a numbing power over you, freezing you in place. His skin was hot, assumably from staying out on the deck during the day, steering the ship whichever way you were going. But then his rings, a sobering cold. His voice was as smooth as the rum he burned it with. ‘Do you blame me for wanting to keep my treasure save?’

‘You are despicable.’ You hissed out, and suddenly his gentle touch roughened up. His fingers wound their way through your hair, and with a firm tug, he pulled you forward, nearly smashing your face against the bars. His voice was distorted with a growl as he warned you.

‘You don’t even know the half of it, darling,’ you were so close to each other, only separated by the metal rods, you could feel his breath on you. There was that distinct smell of rum followed by… cinnamon. There was no way you could focus on that, however. Not when he pulled at your hair harder. ´If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have that pretty dress, no more. Let alone even have food to disgust over. Besides–’ He let go of your hair, pushing you back and you let go of the breath you had been holding in. ‘This attitude really does not suit you.’

As you let your lungs fill with a fresh breath, you watched the captain inhale slowly. He was composing himself. And when he looked back up at you, from a first glance, it looked as if he had pushed aside the part of him that had just grabbed you. All except for his eyes. They were still dark and filled with the devil’s fury.

‘So,’ he spoke calmly, ‘is there a reason why you threatened your life to my incompetent men for the– what is it– fifth time?’ You had a request, did you?’ Was he really giving you a chance? Trying to mimic his calm stature, you repeated your demand.

‘Let me out.’

To this, he raised an eyebrow. Did you not learn anything from the interactions that just occurred between you? Why, yes, you did, so you added one last determined word: ‘Now.’

Against all expectations, he laughed and reached for a set of keys that hung on the wall next to your jail. It must have been a well-thought-out joke because it had always been just out of your arm’s reach, no matter how you angled or stretched yourself out. Because you naturally had tried to reach for it across your first nights of capture when most of the crew was asleep– you didn’t want to be caught trying to escape.

The captain took the key, it rattled on its large ring, and turned it in the lock. With a rusty croak, the barred door opened. He extended his arm invitingly, but you stood frozen in place. What was happening?

‘Isn’t this what you wanted?’ He looked up at you, one arm hooked between the bar, the other nudging you to move with a wave. ‘Well, go on then. Be free.’ He knew exactly what he was doing, and you realised it at the sound of his last word.

Despite your cage finally being open, unlike a bird, you could not fly away and truly escape this ghost of a ship. You had nowhere to go. For days, you had thought it would be alright if only you could get out of this jail. Reality hit much harder. It was much worse. Out in the middle of the vast sea, there was nowhere for you to go. The ship was your true prison.

You remained in your spot, frozen. Finally, the captain nodded satisfactorily and removed the key from the lock but kept the door open.

‘I’ll be on my way now if you do not mind, darling’ He chuckled again. It had quickly become one of your most hated sounds in the world, ‘but do join us on deck if you ever feel like putting on another performance such as this. I would suggest something of the likes of Shakespeare, though– much less hysterics.’

You wanted to scream at him, run up to him and hit him with every ounce of power in your body, but you couldn’t. He could easily overpower you, and God only knew what would happen. Keeping a distance was better. It was safe.

From that point on, the jail door stayed open. With it, another realisation came to light.

That steel barred door, now swinging and creaky as the ship crossed the waters, had been the one thing that kept you safe. It had been a barrier between you and the wild men of the ship.

Now, for whatever reason, they kept to themselves. Depending on who had drawn the short stick to bring you a meal, you only came into contact with one or two crewmates a day. There was no eye contact and no more conversation attempts. You had become like an animal they just tried to keep alive until you reached your destination or until boredom hit… and you weren’t sure if it was for the better or worse.

Chapter 2

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 2 years ago

Text

Exactly as you are

Previous chapter / Next chapter

summary: when two broken souls meet something is bound to happen.

warning: mentions of past trauma, sexual assault, forceful behavior, groping without consent, touch aversion, murder, blood, fighting.

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"No offense, but this looks like a suicide mission", Jesper said right as Kaz finished going over the details of their newest job. Pekka Rollins has been doing everything in his power lately to bring down Kaz, and his ego was bruised way too much already to let it slide. Not to mention the power the Dime Lions were starting to gain. One misstep and Kaz was going to lose everything that he had worked so hard to get.

"You are in looks for a new owner?", Kaz barked out, and Jesper just shook his head in irritation, "Here I was thinking that we had moved into the brother territory". Those words got followed by Kaz harshly clicking his cane onto the stone floors. A line. A line had been crossed with that. Kaz only had one brother. The one that was dead. Thrown onto a wooden raft. Dead. Clamy and cold. All over. Kaz closed his eyes, lowering his head as the tightness in his chest grew. Threatening. Laughing at him as it choked a breath out of him.

"Look, all I am saying", Jesper had continued after a moment, knowing that the last thing Kaz needed now was someone jumping in to soothe him and God above even acknowledge the anxiety rising inside him, "That there has to be a way to go into this with at least fourth percent chance of coming out alive". Kaz pulled at the top button of his black shirt. The tightness was now uncomfortable. Suffocating. The crows glanced around each other. Nina quickly shook her head. A silent way of saying not to push it. She could feel the painful speed of his heart beating. Yet she knew better than to help slow her boss's heart. Tried it once. Got yelled at, and Kaz hadn't looked her way for over a week. Wylan grasped Jesper's hand as he let out a deep sigh. "Kaz…", Jesper started once more, but the door to the office opened and in you strolled, halting in your steps the moment your eyes landed on the scene in front of you.

You knew what they did. Kaz had told you most things, or at least the things you had to know, the first night. But you weren't a crow. That you knew, and Kaz himself had repetitively reminded you of it. You never went on the jobs. You weren't a part of the meetings or debriefs. The only deeper insight you got was if you were up at night alongside Kaz. When his mind was fuzzy enough that he would start muttering his thoughts out loud. Routes. Names. Object. Numbers.

The four of them looked at you with big eyes but said nothing. Yet you only glance their way for a split second, your eyes instantly moved to Kaz, who was leaning hunched on the table. The glance lingered, but you dropped it. Turning to walk out of the room, knowing that this wasn't something for your eyes. "You, out", Kaz's voice boomed through the room as he gestured to the crows all standing nervously in front of the table. You debated on leaving as well, yet you paused. Something in between the lines, unspoken pleas that made you halt in your track.

Jesper stopped in front of you right before walking out. He wore the emotions on his sleeve. Reading him was so easy. You knew he cared, knew how much he loved Kaz, and how much he was truly ready to sacrifice for him. So you blinked slowly. Letting him know that if only Kaz allowed you, you were going to look after him. Jesper nodded his head. He had no idea what was going on between the two of you behind closed doors, but he was sure of two things - you had altered something in Kaz and he found somewhat of a safe haven in you.

You moved across the room as quietly as a mouse. "You are here to complain about something that I've done as well?", Kaz snarled, lifting his head, you shook your head before reaching for a jug of water. Kaz cocked his head to the side as the family silk scarf caught his eye. You had braided it into your hair which was now neatly wrapped around your head like a crown. He had no idea how you had created that masterpiece but he sure was mesmerized by it. Only brought out of his trance once he heard a glass of water being placed on the table in front of him. Blinking he turned away from you, "Then why are you here?". The tightness in his chest was close to gone and Kaz found himself hating the fact that it passed so easily, so quickly. He enjoyed the pain at times. A cold reminder that he was still alive. The only time Kaz was one hundred percent sure that he was indeed not dead.

You said nothing as you sat down on the other side of the table. Kaz let out a huff and followed suit only now realizing how much his legs ached from putting all his body weight on them without the help of the cane. He ran a hand through his messy hair, now savoring the feeling of air flowing into his lungs. You tapped your finger onto the table to get his attention back on you. Pulling a bundle wrapped into a piece of newspaper. "Finally found the poison to kill me off?", he said making you let out an annoyed huff, as you crinkled your brows at him in annoyance. Kaz didn't acknowledge it, just like most times. No dissatisfaction that you expressed ever seemed to alter his emotions. Well, not that you could see it from the outside.

Kaz tore the paper off, holding up a glass jar of ink, then glancing to the side of the table where his jar sat. Empty. How had he missed that? "Useful", he said, setting the bottle aside before pulling out a handful of papers, "If there's nothing else you are here for, walk yourself out". You pushed the glass of water closer to him, mindful of the paperwork now all over the table. The desire to tell you off was bubbling inside him, but he still reached for the glass, lifting it closer to his lips. You nodded your head in satisfaction before refilling it, knowing that there was no way Kaz was going to do it himself, before stepping out of the study.

The club was way busier than usual for the middle of the week. People were lingering by every corner of the place. All chairs, even the extra ones from the back of the house occupied. "Cute guy alert at six o'clock", Wylan said as he placed the empty glasses onto the bar. Nina and Inej looked up straight away, you followed suit. "Cover Jesper's ears. He might die knowing you find someone besides him cute", Nina chirped, eyes still on the guy. "Not for me, just… for any of you", he quickly defended himself right as the pink shades colored his cheeks. A smile painted your face at how easy it was to fluster him and how much Nina enjoyed doing just that.

You scanned the crowd, trying to find Kaz among them but with no luck. Usually, he was here by now. Rarely did he stay behind fully. If not somewhere tucked away in the corner, observing the commotion, then in his backroom - but not tonight, it seemed. "I'm sure Kaz just lost himself between all of his paperwork", Nina reached for your hand, squeezing it gently but letting go straight away, equally as much as with Kaz knowing not to linger. You nodded your head before moving to dry the washed-up glasses. She could feel the way your heart practically cried to see Kaz. You hated crowds as much as Kaz did. Nina knew that if Kaz had seen the buzz here tonight, you would have already been in the backroom with him, away from all of this noise and bodies. She caught you glancing around the club again as you placed the glasses onto the tray, making sure you had a good grip on it, "You want me to take over?", she asked, and you knew the intentions were good and caring, but you still shook your head. This was your job, and until it was Kaz telling you to back away, you weren't going to stop.

But maybe you should have. Should have listened. Should have taken the offer. Cause the more the night went on and the smell of cigarettes and alcohol grew thicker, the more touchy the males became. You weren't able to carry full trays of beer anymore. Hands too shaky, legs too wobbly to hold them up without spilling. And God forbid you spilled any of it on any of the customers. It was only Wylan, who was still here, and Jesper, but he was somewhere deep within the club most definitely gambling. You ushered Nina through the door about an hour ago. She had been practically sleeping with her face on the bar. And there was no room for a passed-out female in the club full of hacking males. Inej had disappeared as well. She didn't enjoy being in the club as it was, and for that, you couldn't blame her.

You were a handful of steps away from the bar when two sets of hands gripped your forearms, jerking you backward. You were thankful that your hands had been empty because the glasses would have been tumbling down. You only heard laughter and whistles as they dragged you through the floor. Your eyes darted towards the bar, but Wylan wasn't there. A cold shiver ran down your back. You tried to wiggle out of their grip but in all honesty, you knew very well that you had no chance of escaping.

Your back hit the back wall as they stepped in front of you, pinning you beneath them. You haven't seen their faces before. Nor did you want to look. It had been a while since you had found yourself in a situation like this. Helpless. Too weak to defend yourself. Numb it out, you kept telling yourself, numb it all, it'll pass by shortly and then you'll pick yourself back up. "What a pretty piece of art we have here", one of them muttered, the sharp smell of alcohol hitting your nose. "Pekka is looking for a new property", the other male sniffed the side of your neck like a hungry hound, before licking his lips, "You seem just the right fit for his description". You swallowed hard. The name itself made your blood run cold. You didn't know much of the other gang leader, but enough to know that if you were to fall into his arms, the nightmare that would follow would be the worst you ever had.

"But he didn't say anything about in what state you were to be delivered", a tough hand gripped your left breast through the shirt, causing you to shut your eyes tightly. You will not scream. You will obey. If not for yourself. Then for Kaz. Because you couldn't allow yourself a thought of him getting hurt because of you or a scene that you caused. "One against two. Will you fight, baby girl?", the nickname made you cringe so hard that goosebumps ran down your arms, but you shook your head. The taler of the two let out a laugh before roughly yanking the top of your dress open.

"You're playing with my toy, boys", the two of them quickly jerked their heads toward the sound. Kaz had his deadly glare on, and if looks cool kill - they would have been six feet under a long time ago. "I don't see your signature stamp on her, Brekker, or did you mark her somewhere else", the taller one said with a laugh before his hand moved to cup your core with his hand. Even with your dress as a layer between his fingers and your body, the feeling of the touch itself made you bite the inside of your cheek so hard that the metallic taste filled your mouth.

"Want to play? Pay up", Kaz barked harshly, stepping closer. He was on fire, or at least he felt like it. The moment he ran into a breathless Wylan about to go look for him, Kaz knew that something had happened. Something bad must have happened, but he didn't allow himself a chance to let that thought settle as he marched into the club. Considering that most males had their heads turned to the back of the club said enough to him. Showed enough to him as he strides towards the commotion.

"Name the price, little boy", the male dared. Kaz's face twitched. The room fell dead silent, you didn't dare to look, pressing yourself closer to the wall. "Your eyes", Kaz said casually, and not even a second later, the peak of the crow, that was on his cane, ripped through the tall male's eyeball. The scream echoed. Other shouts erupted as people started to flee from the club. Jesper, who must have felt the commotion was quick to rip the other male away from you, hitting his head with the back of his gun. You had slid down the wall. Breathing as hectic as the mess that was unfolding in front of you.

Kaz had no recollection of how many times he had driven the sharp end of his cane through the fuckers face, but he sure as hell was long dead when he was done with him. No one was in the club besides them now. Yet the rage didn't subside. Oh no, it only grew, and Kaz was about to turn to Jesper, who had strict orders to keep an eye on you if he wasn't around to do so himself. But the shaky breath that remained Kaz more of a cry that slipped past your lips, making him turn to you.

Your knees were pressed to your chest. Nails dug into your palms so deep that they drew blood. You were shaking so hard, your whole body spasming as you took shallow breaths that only hit the surface before a sharp cry was pushed away from your lungs. Kaz threw Jesper a death glare as a promise. Promise to skin him after he was done before he fully turned towards you. Limping your way before he fell to his knees not far away from you. Yet leaving a comfortable distance between you both.

"Y/N", he called out, but you didn't seem to hear him, "Y/N", he called out way louder this time. Whatever you were muttering under your breath now Kaz couldn't make out. Now more than even he wished he could just hold you. Not sit a couple of feet away like some weak piece of shit who had brought this upon you. "They are gone, we took care of it", your lower lip quivered at his words. Kaz desperately searched your body for any signs of you coming back, but the cage you had yourself locked into now seemed impossible to break. "Jesper will get you to your room. Nina will sleep with you tonight", the softness in his voice scarred him, but he couldn't be harsh now. Not now. Not with you.

Just the moment Jesper moved to put a hand around you, the most heart-reaching scream slipped past your lips as you backed away. Jesper bit his lip, trying to keep his tears at bay. If anything he deserved whatever was to come after you calmed down and if you calmed down. Kaz backed away slightly as you pushed yourself away from everyone. He was helpless. So helpless that he realized that all the moments of weakness he had gone through till now could never compare to this.

Then your eyes shot open. The fear was in them so big as your hand clasped around your throat. Trying to scratch a path for even a slither of oxygen. Choking. Dying. It looked like you were dying, and Kaz moved towards you as if that had been his second instinct. Bloody gloves clasping your hair as he turned your face towards him. "Breathe, Y/N. Breath, for fuck sake", he cried out angrily. Kaz had already lost Jordie, and he sure wasn't going to lose you now, as well.

His face was inches away from yours. The familiar scent of him crept all around you. The scent that you fell asleep within his bed. The scent that had even mixed into your clothes that were put neatly next to Kaz's in the drawers in his room. With both hands on your face, Kaz hoped to catch your frantic eyes, and when you finally took a big gulp of air, he almost felt reborn. Your shaky palms rested on his chest, where his heart was beating rapidly. Beating. You blinked a couple of times, grounding yourself. Clinging to the feeling of Kaz being so close.

The water inside Kaz was bubbling almost to the top. Too much, for too long, but he couldn't pull away. Not now. Not when he needed to get you out. Even if it meant that he was going to drown himself. That would be worth it. Worth it if only you stayed above the water. "Kaz…", his heart stopped beating when his name rolled off your tongue. Of that he was sure. He met your scared eyes. Eyes in search of him. For him because even after this, you felt safe with him. Even if Kaz didn't deserve it.

"I'm right here, right with you", he whispered to you. Wanting to press his forehead to yours, but he knew that any more skin contacts would have him pulling away. "Kaz", you rasped out again, and he only managed to nod his head as he watched the movements of your chest evening out. Your hands slipped away from his chest when you realized that you had been touching him. A line. You crossed his line. But his eyes didn't look angry. Not with you. Your body slumped, Kaz was quick to catch your shoulders before turning to Jasper, who stepped closer, replacing him.

The taste of sick flooded Kaz's mouth. As he watched you looking at Jesper. He was so gentle with you. Talking you through all of his movements before gathering you into his arms. It should have been Kaz doing that. Pulling you closer. Getting you away from this place. You looked so out of it. So warn out. So small in Jesper's arms. With the adrenaline wearing down, your body was going to crash. Kaz wanted to order Jesper to bring you up to his room, but instead, he leaped towards the nearest bowl that still covered the tables before emptying his stomach. His anxiety needed a way out of his body. When he finally lifted his head neither of you was here. That was what he wanted. Kaz needed to be alone. To dwell in self-pity for a bit before he would make his way back to you. Before he burnt the whole word. Set buildings flying. Ripped bodies with his hands. Just to keep you safe. To not fail you. He couldn't allow himself to fail you.

#kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker #six of crows imagine #six of crows x reader #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone imagine

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