#a little reworking and could be fire

[localgardenweed]

Thinking about that time me and pookie played anime hs on roblox to try and roleplay again cause it looked like the only place okd school rp lived and all that happened is that i got fucking bullied about my hair by some random chick trying to prove she wasn’t mean to her friend💀

[kiki-strike]

Sometimes I forget ft willz isn’t actually a famous poet and is just some sad guy with a MySpace page in 2008 who might have been Frank iero

[kiss-inthekitchen]

pairing: spencer reid x reader

set sometime in early s2; you get stuck sharing a room with your favorite boy genius who absolutely cannot know that you have feelings for him. and also, there’s only one bed. fluff, f!reader (i think there's only two usages of gender markers)

word count: 4.7k

notes: this is a rework of a very old fic i used to have up on ao3. i'm thinking i'll do more of these, i've got a few spencer fics in the vault and it was fun to rework this and see how my style has changed :)

You shivered against the cold desert air. Twirling a keyring around your finger, you headed for the door marked 3. You were exhausted from the day and so, so ready to collapse into bed as soon as you got inside your room. 

You turned the key in the lock while Spencer waited behind you. It was late, and you and the team had pulled into a motel for the night, having been dragged out to a tiny rural town by the unsub after days of tracking him through surrounding areas. He’d been apprehended, finally, and handed over to local police around midnight. You all had decided it best to spend the night before driving back into town in the morning for take off. 

So here you were, at one of those single story motels that still used actual keys instead of key cards. Given the time of night, you knew vacancies would be scarce, so you’d already expected to have to double up on rooms. Gideon had stayed behind at Quantico, leaving Hotch and Morgan in one room and JJ and Prentiss in another, with you and Spencer sharing the last room. You’d hung back while JJ got everything figured out with the concierge (who was just a bored looking kid posted at the desk), and then she’d passed you your key with its little keyring attachment listing the room number and you all bade each other goodnight.

You’d been on the team nearly a year already, but you were still the rookie compared to everyone else. Even Spence had two years on you. But seeing as you two were the youngest, and the least inclined toward the more physical parts of your job– the chasing, tackling, firing your weapon parts– you were paired off with him more often than not. 

You weren’t complaining. You’d come to know Spencer pretty well, and you didn’t feel much apprehension at the thought of sharing a room with him for one night. 

That is, until you opened the door. 

“Oh,” you said involuntarily.  

"There's only one bed,” Spencer said. 

“Sure looks that way.” 

"At least it's a queen?" 

There was a brief pause before you both started speaking at the same time. 

"Maybe we can go back to the concierge–" Spencer began. 

"I mean, I guess I don't really–" 

"–although, JJ did say we got the last–" 

"–mind as long as you–" 

You cut yourself off this time. It’s not like there was another good option, unless one of you wanted to sleep in the car. "This is fine?" it came out as a question rather than a statement. 

"I think so? I wouldn't want to– to make you uncomfortable or anything."

"This is fine," you repeated, more sure of yourself this time. “And you don’t make me uncomfortable.”  

It was only kind of a lie. You trusted Spencer with your life, of course. But he also made you nervous. He was sweet, kind, always seeming genuinely interested in anything you had to say. And of course, anyone could see that he was attractive. You were developing feelings for him, and in a job where your coworkers and your crush himself were all adept at reading people, it really wasn’t a good position for you to be in. You just hoped Spencer was as oblivious with women as Derek made him out to be. 

"We should get out of the doorway," Spencer suggested, and you realized you'd been standing in the threshold this whole time.

"Right."

The two of you walked in, Spencer closing and locking the door behind you. It was a modest room in a tiny town; your standard ugly-patterned, faded bedspread draped over the queen bed in the center, a window looking out into the parking lot, and a dresser that didn’t even have a TV on top of it. You headed straight for the bed, sitting on the edge and removing your shoes while Spencer stood by with his hands in his pockets.

"You know, if it's a problem I can sleep on the cou– uh, the chair," Spencer offered, looking back mid-sentence and realizing that the only additional furniture this motel offered was one rigid looking armchair by the window. 

"No, you're not doing that."

"What?" he asked, taken aback by the quickness of your response.

"You're not sleeping in that chair. It looks horribly uncomfortable and I’m sure it’s never been cleaned, and I know how you’d feel about that.” 

Spencer grimaced, not having thought about that particular detail. “Yeah, but, I mean… I’d do it for you.” 

God, why did he have to say stuff like that? Like you were something special. And why now, when you were stuck in the same room with him until morning? It probably didn’t even mean the same thing to him as it meant to you. He was one of the most caring people you’d ever met. He’d probably say that to any one of you on the team. 

Or maybe sleeping in a chair meant nothing to him at all. Maybe he actually didn’t want to share the bed with you and that’s why he was trying so hard to avoid it. 

Ugh. You just wanted this day to be over. It was late, the case had been a week long, and now you were probably in for a fun night of overthinking and second guessing when you’d been expecting silence and easy, dreamless sleep. 

Okay, maybe that last part was never really an option, but still. 

“Look,” you sighed, “I know this isn't an ideal situation but there's a perfectly good bed here, so let’s just share it. If you’re okay with that. It's just one night and tomorrow we'll be back home and nobody has to know about it."

You had to fight from squeezing your eyes shut in regret. You wished that had come out differently. You chanced a look at Spencer, realizing that you’d been staring down at the faded carpet pattern while you spoke. 

The look on his face was one you hadn’t seen before, and you almost couldn't place it. He seemed sort of disappointed. Disappointed that he had to share a bed with you? Or that you'd made it sound like you didn't want to share a bed with him? Nope, you could not go down that road tonight. You shook your head once as if it would clear the thoughts from your tired mind. 

“I’m okay with that," he said, casually enough that you could almost convince yourself that you’d just imagined the look on his face before. "So, do you want the shower first, or...?" Spencer asked.

"No, I can wait, you go ahead," you said. You desperately needed the moment to yourself anyway.  

You started rifling through your bag for pajamas, toiletries, and your charger as an excuse to look busy while Spencer made his way into the bathroom with his things. As soon as the door closed behind him, you flopped back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as if it might hold all the answers. 

Spencer couldn't know about your feelings. For one thing, you were pretty sure there was a rule against dating your colleagues in the BAU. If not, there probably should be. You were such a close knit team, and if anything went wrong… you couldn’t imagine how difficult that would be. But then, the evil and uncooperative part of you also couldn’t help but think that things might go right. 

From the beginning of your time at the BAU, you’d been drawn to Spencer. It just kind of made sense. You’d gotten through school at an accelerated pace– though not as quickly as him, the man was on another fucking level when it came to academics– and you were one of the only people who found his fact dropping actually interesting, often asking him follow up questions. He’d looked adorably shocked the first few times you’d done that. 

He listened intently to your passionate rants about your favorite films and tv shows, even though he hadn’t seen any of them. When the two of you had discovered a shared interest in mythology and folklore, Hotch nearly had to separate you so you would actually get some work done. It was like you were a kid in school again, and you might’ve been embarrassed if you didn’t find it so funny, if you weren’t so giddy at the idea of a friendship that could make you feel like a kid again. 

Spencer understood you in a way that other people didn’t, laughing at your jokes even when they didn’t land for anybody else. When people interrupted or spoke over you, he always paid attention, and in situations where you were trying to add details to the profile he’d bring the conversation back around to you. 

Throughout your life you’d learned– through painstaking trial and error– to fit in pretty well in most any group you found yourself in, but you’d always considered yourself to be a little weird. A little too different. But when you were with Spencer, you felt like you didn’t have to try so hard. You could both be a little different, together. 

Spencer opened the bathroom door then, startling you. You’d been so lost in thought you hadn’t even noticed the water turn off. You looked over to see him wearing a loose white t-shirt and pajama pants, his hair still damp. And now you knew what Spencer looked like fresh out of a shower. And of course it was endearing as hell. 

“If that’s how you’re planning to sleep,” Spencer began, referencing how you were laid out in the dead center of the bed, your arms fully outstretched and hands hanging off the mattress, “then I think we might have a slight problem after all.”  

You walked out of the bathroom a short while later, dressed in your usual sleepwear of shorts and an oversized shirt. You’d put your hair up in a bun to protect it while you showered, and now it hung loose around your shoulders. You simultaneously wished your outfit was cuter and uglier; knowing your giant t-shirt wasn’t flattering your figure while also feeling like you had too much skin exposed. Not that it mattered. You were just going to get some sleep and then wake up in the morning and head home. Everything would be back to normal. 

Spencer’s in bed already. He’d turned off the big light while you were showering, the lamps on either side of the bed casting him in a softer, warmer glow. He looked up from his book to find you standing there, and the soft, familiar look in his big brown eyes had you rooted to the spot. 

“Hey,” he said softly, patting the space next to him in invitation. 

You conceded, finding your legs again and sliding into bed beside him. “Hey.” 

He fidgeted with the pages of his book, ultimately shutting it closed on his index finger to mark the page. “So, uh, are we okay?” 

“Yeah, of course,” you answered genuinely, feeling bad that your internal struggle had manifested in a way that worried him. 

“Okay, cool,” he said. He paused long enough to let you explain if you wanted to, another invitation. You knew he wouldn’t push it if you didn’t offer something up. You wanted to give him an explanation, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. 

“Sorry,” you managed. 

“For what?” 

“I don’t know… acting weird, I guess. It’s just been a long day.” 

“Oh, well, you don’t need to be sorry about that. You’re always weird.” 

Your mouth dropped open as you looked at him. “Look who’s fucking talking,” you scoffed. Some of the tension dropped from your shoulders, glad he hadn’t questioned you further. 

“Language, please,” he held up a hand to stop you. “I’m delicate.” 

“Wha–?” you let out a surprised little laugh. “You’re an idiot!” 

“Yeah okay, tell that to my I–.” 

“Oh, my IQ of 187,” you finished for him, rolling your eyes. Even that was full of endearment. “God, you are so annoying.” 

“Hm. Y’know, this might be a long night for you. I’d hate to keep you up with my annoyingness.” 

“I feel like you could’ve come up with a better word than annoyingness, Mr. 187,” you tilted your head where it rested against the headboard, looking up at him. 

“Oh, she’s being a smartass now!” he split into a surprised grin, and you could swear your heart skipped a beat. 

“You just said ass.” 

“Wow. How quickly you’ve corrupted me.” 

“Right, of course. It’s my fault.” 

“I knew you’d agree.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” you laughed. 

Things felt a little bit more normal after that, joking around with Spencer like you normally did made the rest of the night feel less daunting. 

Shortly after that, the two of you agreed that you should get some sleep, each reaching over to turn out the light on your respective sides of the bed. 

You let yourself sink into your pillow, the exhaustion you had been feeling giving way to a hyper awareness of Reid’s body next to you. You were kept awake, completely overcome by the foot of space between you and Spencer; the consequences of crossing that space, the way it might feel, the curiosity over whether he was laying awake too, thinking the same thoughts as you. Even with that foot of space separating you, you could feel his body heat. You longed to move closer to him, to touch him, to let his warmth seep into you and lull you to sleep. 

But you didn’t, and you wouldn’t, because this was just an unfortunate booking mishap. It didn’t mean anything. Tomorrow it would be over, and you could more easily go back to hiding your feelings from everyone else and yourself. 

Eventually, exhaustion won out. 

You woke what could’ve been a few minutes or a few hours later, the sky still dark. You couldn’t tell what exactly had woken you up, only the sense that you’d moved, almost like you’d fallen. But fallen from what? 

You blinked in the dark, the street lamps in the parking lot providing enough residual light to keep the room from being pitch black. 

Reid was sitting up. He must’ve bolted upright, you thought. Had that been what moved you? Were you lying on him?! 

“Hey, you okay?” 

“Sorry. Just a nightmare,” he said as if it was nothing. “Sorry to wake you.” 

“What was it about?” you ignored his apologies, sitting up as well. 

“I don't really even remember,” he breathed, almost like it was funny. “Just having a physiological reaction to whatever it was, I guess.” 

You had nightmares too, of course. You all did. You hated remembering them, but you also hated the times when you woke up in the dark, dazed and inexplicably scared. Without thinking, you reached for his hand. 

He turned to look at you then. “I really didn't mean to wake you,” he reiterated. 

“I figured,” you smiled slightly. You noticed his breathing was just a bit too fast. You rubbed your thumb over the back of his hand, leaning over to rest your weight against his side, your head on his shoulder. His nervous system would regulate itself quicker this way. 

“You were on my pillow, by the way.” 

“What?” you ask, your head jerking back from him. 

“I totally called it. You rolled right into the center of the bed in your sleep. Total bed hog.” 

“Hey!” you protested, pulling your hand back from his in embarrassment. So you had been lying on top of him. Or at least really close to him. His hand chased after yours, finding you again. 

“That wasn’t me complaining about it.” 

“Oh,” was all you could think to say back. 

It was quiet for a minute. You let your head fall back onto Spencer’s shoulder, but your heart raced in your chest. 

“Can I ask you something?” he questioned, his tone becoming more serious. 

“Oh– of course,” you answered, your brow creasing. 

“What did you mean when you said ‘it’s not ideal’ and ‘nobody has to know about it’?” 

“Wh– I– Spencer, come on.” 

He didn’t give you an out this time. Just waited for an answer. 

“I don’t even really know,” you sighed.  

“I believe you’re being partially truthful about that.” 

“Don’t profile me.” 

“I’m not. I just know you.” 

You sighed. “You know, sometimes I hate that stupid memory of yours.” 

“I don’t need an eidetic memory to remember that. It was a weird thing to say, and it happened like four hours ago.” 

“You’re guesstimating. And it wasn’t that weird.” 

“Maybe not, but the way you said it was. And you’re avoiding my question.” 

You continued to avoid it, biting down on your bottom lip. 

“And you stuttered when I brought it up.” 

“I told you to stop profiling me.” 

This time, he just hummed in response. 

“And so what if I stuttered?” 

“Stuttering is usually more my thing. A nervousness thing.” 

Maybe this was actually your nightmare. Maybe you’d wake up soon and none of this would’ve been real, and you wouldn’t have had to explain to Spencer that the reason you’d had an attitude was because the situation tonight had made it harder to hide your feelings from him. Big feelings that became a lot harder to ignore when he was this close to you, still holding your hand, the mix of scents from his detergent and deodorant clouding your judgment. Of all the embarrassing scenarios that you could’ve imagined playing out tonight, this was very high up on the list. 

“I said ‘it’s not ideal’ because it’s not, just by definition. We were supposed to get a double room and we didn’t. Not ideal. And I said no one has to find out because I can already see Morgan having a field day with it and I know the exact expression that’ll be on his face–” 

“The eyebrows,” he nodded, lips pursed. 

“And then everyone else will get in on it and I just figured…” you sighed. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to deal with that.” 

“That all makes total sense.” 

“Good,” you breathed. Too relieved. 

“Now tell me the rest of it.” 

“God, Spencer–” you huffed out, frustrated. He knew you too well. 

You wanted to run. Maybe you could go sleep in the car after all. And then ignore Spencer for the rest of the day, and then the year, and your life, and– 

“Don’t make me say it,” you breathed. This had to be a dream. 

“But there is something to be said?” he questioned, his tone hushed, almost reverent. 

It was just vague enough. You could pretend it was nothing. 

“Yes.” 

You felt like you’d just blown your life up with one word. 

Spencer took a deep breath, your body cresting and falling with the movement of it. 

“You make me feel better about being myself,” he confessed.  

You shut your eyes. You had a constricting feeling in your throat suddenly, and the awful realization that you might cry. 

He spoke again, because you couldn’t. “I haven’t always felt good about it, you know? And then you joined the team, and, well– you changed a lot of things for me. And you’re beautiful, obviously, and I was scared to mess up what we have, because it’s special, I think–” 

“It is.” 

“–and then you started freaking out when you saw the bed,” he was smiling now, you could hear it, “and I thought, maybe it wouldn’t be so crazy… maybe I could make you feel that way too.” 

“You do. Of course you do. I feel like I can be my full self with you. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt like that before.” 

Spencer laughed, a little delirious giggle, and squeezed your hand in his. You’d managed to avoid crying, thankfully, and you grinned along with him, looking down at your joined hands as you squeezed him back. 

Things seemed to still for a beat, the two of you sitting with this moment and letting it stretch out. You still couldn’t really believe this was happening. You might have to tell Spencer to pinch you. 

“So what does that mean for us now?” you asked. 

“Well, for right now at least, I think it just means that we can go back to sleep without overthinking things into oblivion.” 

“I was not–”

“Okay, this time I am profiling you, and you’re lying,” he cut you off, his smile still evident.  

“Oh, this was such a mistake.”

He continued like you hadn’t spoken, laughing a little as he went. “I could practically hear it. It’s like, you know when a computer is trying to use too much processing power and the fan starts whirring really loud? Like that but just like right next to me, like tangible—“  

“Okay! Thank you so much, I actually totally got it, you can stop now.” 

He laughed, and your cheeks warmed. 

“For the record, I meant we could both stop overthinking.” Then he shifted a little, facing you a bit more. With the hand that wasn’t holding yours, he brushed a strand of hair from your face, a fake pout on his lips. “Sorry I make you nervous.” 

You cackled at that, if it was possible to cackle in hushed tones. “Oh, I bet you are. Besides, I know you like me now, so you’ve lost that card.” 

“Are you certain of that?” 

“Certain that you like me or certain that you can’t make me nervous?” 

“The latter. I do like you, if that was unclear.” 

Your heart sped up, contradicting you as you answered, “Then I’m certain you can’t make me nervous.” 

He titled your face up to his then, using his index finger underneath your chin to make you look at him. “You’re an awful liar.” 

You just shrugged, watching triumphantly as Spencer’s gaze fell to your lips. “It’s been working out pretty well for me so far.” 

“I guess it has,” he murmured, closing the distance between you and finally kissing you. 

After so many months of imagining (and berating yourself for imagining) what Spencer’s lips might feel like on yours, you weren’t disappointed. 

For once you didn’t have to think at all, the chemistry between you and him drowning out everything else. His hand fell to your waist, and yours moved to the curve of his jaw, pulling him closer as his mouth moved against yours. Your teeth grazed his bottom lip and he gasped, and your skin felt like it was lit up from the inside. 

You pulled away to breathe, and to process, and to try and stop your head from swimming. You were rewarded with the awestruck look in Spencer’s eyes as he opened them again. 

“Okay, was it just me, or–” 

“That was crazy,” you breathed.

“Crazy,” he agreed. 

“Spence?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I don’t think we’re getting back to sleep tonight.” Your eyes widened at the implication of saying those words at that time. “Not, like, in the sex way, though,” you hurried to correct yourself. “I need like, 4-5 business days to process things first, and I– well, I just meant, like– you know?” 

Spencer was nodding at you even as his eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “Can I still kiss you during those 4-5 business days?” 

“Oh, yeah,” you said, sounding breathless. 

“Cool,” he agreed. “You seem really nervous, by the way.” 

“Well, you kissed me.” 

“I did.”  

“How were you not nervous?” you breathed. 

“Oh, I was. Your reaction is making me feel a whole lot better about it though.” 

You scoffed half-heartedly. “I do so much for you.” 

“You do,” he replied earnestly, letting go of your hand to wrap his arm around your shoulders as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “We could lie back down, if you want. Like we were before I so rudely woke you up.” 

“Yeah, I’m super mad about that,” you joked. “Anyway, I was asleep for that, so you’ll have to show me what I was doing.” 

He seemed all too pleased to do so. “Okay, so you were basically like,” he leaned back against the pillows, pulling you down with him, moving his hand to the side of your head to guide you to the place where his shoulder met his chest, “Like that, and then your arm was over here,” he picked up your arm and guided it around his waist. 

“Oh god, that’s so embarrassing,” you said, realizing that he must’ve been awake when you’d done it. 

“Yeah, I know. Really terrible time for me.” 

“I can imagine. I can scoot back over to my side of the bed, just say the word.” 

“Don’t you dare,” he said, squeezing you closer. 

You trailed your fingers up and down his waist, feeling more content than you had in ages. 

“I can’t believe you’d suggest that I would have sex with you right after confessing my feelings. Like, take me to dinner first at least.” 

“Oh my god,” you half-exclaimed, half-laughed. You felt your cheeks heat up again, grateful it was still too dark in the room to be noticeable. “You’re right, I’m so sorry. How’s next Friday?” 

“Hmm, I don’t know. My work schedule is kind of unpredictable. I’ll have to get back to you.” 

“You’re such an ass.” 

A few short hours later, you were back on the jet with the rest of the team. You were lying on the couch while Spencer sat in a seat one row up and across from you, both to avoid suspicion and so you could try to catch up on sleep. He sat facing away from you, but with the angle you were at you could still see one side of his face if you tilted your head up. 

You were just beginning to fade when your phone buzzed next to you. 

Spencer: I have to tell you something, coworker to coworker. 

You looked up to see him blank faced, looking down at the book in his right hand, holding his phone in the left. 

You text back: okay? 

Spencer: My crush asked me out last night. 

You’re exceptionally glad no one was sitting close enough to see you. Spencer had caught you off guard, and you felt an infatuated grin spreading across your face. 

You: what did u say? 

Spencer: Wanted to get your opinion first. 

You: i think u should say yes, obviously. 

Spencer: Idk, I’m kinda nervous. I think she’s trying to jump me on the first date.

You just barely managed to refrain from laughing out loud. You looked up at Spencer again, and he’s looking at his phone as if it contained nothing more than a weather report. You’re astounded. 

You: one could argue that technically you’ve already slept together, so there’s less to be nervous abt

You saw his eyebrows raise just slightly. Success. 

Spencer: You’re trouble, you know that? See you Friday night

You: i promise i won’t try to jump you 

Spencer: Oh

Spencer: I fear I may have shot myself in the foot here

You: i wouldn’t worry about it too much

Spencer: That’s rich coming from you 

You rolled your eyes even though he couldn't see you. 

You: whatever. wear something sexy ;) 

You heard him blow air out of his nose, an almost laugh. 

“Something funny?” you heard Derek ask. 

Shit. 

“This book contains a historical inaccuracy that was proven incorrect eight years before its publishing date,” Spencer replied without missing a beat. 

Unbelievable.

You: you’re unhinged :*

Spencer: Go to sleep already, would you? 

You: coworker to coworker? my crush keeps interrupting my beauty sleep 

Spencer: He’s probably worried about the worldwide implications of you becoming any more beautiful 

You: i guess that’s why the universe gave you insomnia :( too pretty 

Spencer: Stop flirting with me

You: bc you’re too delicate?? 

Spencer: Yes 

You snapped your phone shut, feeling dazed. You watched the clouds go by in the window across from you, and you couldn’t help letting your gaze slide over to Spencer. He’d put his phone down as well, concentrating on his book. Or pretending to concentrate. He was turning the pages much too slowly for his actual pace. 

You: you have got to do a better job of fake reading than that

You heard a page turn. 

You looked up again to see the ghost of a smile threatening the corner of his mouth. 

This was going to be fun. And also, you were so screwed. 

[asharasasylum]

Personal Assistant ♡  Aegon Targaryen x Reader

author's note: this is an older fic that has been reworked to the max, meant to be a quick Drabble turned out to be about 4k words. Yeah. I do think @phimbkerthinker originally requested this idea on squirmhoney correct me if I’m wrong but want to give credit where it’s due ❤️ warnings: coercion. blackmail. non con. dub con. smut. oral. abuse of power. praise. mean Aegon turns soft. 18+

AEGON TARGARYEN is the biggest obnoxious prat you’ve ever dealt with in your entire existence. He abuses the power that’s given to him on silver trays, toying it in front of those less fortunate than him just for fun. He’s never worked for anything in his life but revels in everything that he’s inherited from daddy. 

You would know being his personal assistant. 

You do everything for him. Fill out and file all the paperwork he fails to get to, sit in on the meetings and answer questions for him when he seems half bored and you always make sure to send new clients his way before any other rival company manages to get to them first. He’d be lost without you and the company would fall into one of his brothers’ hands. Sometimes you think that’d be for the best, he’s such a lost cause anyway. But you don’t know his brothers like you know him, they could fire you the moment they take over and you can’t lose this job. 

Aegon  knows this. He dangles it in front of your face, the fact you need the money so much. It’s good pay, better than anywhere else is offering, and Aegon knows about your situation. The debt you managed to get yourself in after you trusted the wrong person. You're not stupid, you just didn’t realise all the contracts your ex had been signing you into and how many months these payment plans seemed to span over. With the money you get here, you’re managing to stay afloat in all of it and of course, Aegon  knows all of this. 

It doesn’t stop you from threatening to leave though. Aegon seems to love it when you do this like it’s some sort of little game, one you immediately regret getting yourself into the moment you find yourself standing alone in his office. Sometimes you can’t help it though, everything can manage to pile up on you and Aegon doesn’t make it any easier. He’s like a child, bored and needy of your attention. 

It’s exactly how it happens today. 

The phone has been blowing up non-stop and while you would usually answer it, within three rings, you don’t bother. You’ve already answered twice, only to be met with Aegon ’s annoying whines about how bored he is. It’s not your problem, you try and tell yourself, muting the phone all together. Besides you’re drowning in paperwork he’s too lazy to do, the least he can do is leave you to it. 

Eventually the calls stop and you find yourself going to the toilet, only to return back to a mess that makes your blood boil. The stacks of paper you neatly organised in different piles, are scattered across your desk, some even on the floor. Each one had been coded from most to least important, some even sitting ready for Aegon to sign off on. Getting them all organised again will set you back another hour, and as you look over to the clock you realise there are only two hours left till the end of the day. 

It makes you snap and you twist yourself towards his office where his door is already open. 

Aegon is sitting behind his desk, a few files in his hand that he seems to be scanning over with a grimace before throwing them over his shoulder. His lips twist at the corners as he hears your kitten heels click against the floor, a smug smile fighting its way on his lips. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” you huff out, standing on the other side of his desk. You know to keep space between you. “I quit.” 

He looks up from the piece of paper between his fingers before throwing it over his shoulder. Your stomach drops as he eyes you up, taking in your figure in your office attire, making you feel suddenly naked.

“I had everything organised out there and you just go and mess it up,” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest. “I can’t do this anymore. I won’t-I-” 

Your words catch in your throat when he stands up, making slow movements to go around the desk. You step in the opposite direction, backing further away from him as you widen your eyes at him. All the while he’s smirking like the brat he is, narrowing his eyes at you like some sort of prey. 

Like a doe-eyed helpless deer you fall into the trap easily, letting fear take over as you back away from him while also backing away from your only means of escape, the office door. He backs into it, locking the door and leaning back against it. 

“I love it when we play this game,” Aegon says, tilting his head to the side. He’s eyeing you again, only this time he isn’t really checking you out but rather sizing you up. “Do you want me to beg today? Tell you I’ll give you a raise if you stay and let me fuck you or…” He stalks closer to you, taking long steps your way and watching you carefully for any sudden movement on your part. “...would you prefer me to be honest? We both know how badly you need this job, otherwise I don’t think you’d let me get away with half of the things I do to you.” 

He steps around the desk and you take your shot, you go to move the other way round. It’s stupid, he is always watching you and waiting for you to move. He’s faster too, slipping back round the other way and grabbing you before you can make it to the doors. 

“The latter it seems,” he chuckles wickedly, yanking your body around. 

You fight back at first, trying to claw your way out of his grip but you always forget how strong he is even with his slender figure. 

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” He asks, finally getting you down onto your knees. “Three weeks, I think.” 

You're teary eyed as you look up at him, blinking away tears as you find yourself easily submitting to this position. 

“Didn’t we agree that I get to have you at least once a week?” He questions, hand working on the button of his trousers. “I think I’m well overdue.” 

You don’t argue, only staring out into the space behind him as you try to get comfortable as possible. 

He’s always quick with it, yanking his pants down to his ankles and boxers just above his knees. His cock, sits right in your face already hard, red at the tip and leaking slightly. 

You don’t want to do this, you tell yourself but what other choice did you really have. Quickly you find yourself kneeling before him, slobbering all over his cock like some stupid dog

You know exactly how he likes it, slow and sensual, your eyes drawn to him as you take him inch by inch into your mouth. It’s how you always start, taking it slow, knowing if you try to rush it immediately he’ll get mad and make it ten times worse for you. It’s all about timing, you remind yourself as you hollow out your cheeks, earning a hiss from Aegon . 

You stroke the parts you can’t fit in, making sure to give his tip personal attention with soft kitten-like licks. 

“You’re so pretty when you’re like this,” he sighs, letting his head roll back and his eyes fall closed for a second. Only for them to open again when you swirl your tongue around his tip, hissing at the sensation. 

This is where you normally speed up, seeing him all fucked out as small moans and sighs fall from his lips. It’s perfect timing, you think, stroking him a bit faster as you try to take more of him into your mouth and suck harder. 

Only today he tilts his head at the sensation and narrows his eyes, almost as if he’s catching onto you. You try not to overthink as you continue but as his lips form into a tight frown and his jaw clenches, you’re sure he’s caught on to your antics. 

Aegon  doesn’t give you time to react, hand sliding into your hair right by your scalp as he grips it tightly, using it as leverage to force you down on him. There’s a twinkle of fucked up amusement in his eyes as he watches you fighting against it, pushing down on his thighs and staring up at with him pathetic wet eyes. He’s not satisfied with you just panicking, not until his cock is slamming against the back of your throat, causing you to gag. 

He finally lets you go, giving you the air to cough and wheeze as you free yourself for him. But he still seems unimpressed, rolling his eyes and yanking your head back as he speaks to you. 

“Too much for you?” He questions, lips drawing into a thin line. 

“I’m sorry.” You immediately apologise, hoping for a tiny bit of mercy. 

“I don’t think you are.” His jaw ticks as he takes you in, clearly thinking of what he wants to do with you.  

You think you hate this part the most, caught in a trap of your own mistake. All you can do is wait for him to decide what he wants to do with you, drawing this whole process out. 

He softens though, using his free hand to play with the string of saliva and precum coating your chin. “Prove to me that you’re sorry.”  

You nod a bit too eagerly, following his direction as he pushes you back down again and wrapping your lips around him. You start to go slow, playing with him in the way he usually likes but he stops you and shakes your head, his hand still latched onto your hair. 

“Open wide.” 

You hold back a whimper, opening your lips as wide as you can and waiting for the onslaught to happen. He doesn’t waste his time, holding your face in place as he uses your mouth as his own personal fleshlight. You learn to breathe through your nose and relax your throat as he fucks your face, trying not to panic each time his tip hits your tonsils. 

“Good girl,” he praises, groaning as he uses you. 

Your jaw is aching at this point, wishing it to be over as he becomes frantic. His hips hit into you and your nose brushes his abdomen with every thrust. You can’t even tell he’s close, not until he’s shooting his load in the back of your throat with a guttural sigh, finally releasing your hair from the restraint of his hands. 

You try not to choke on the sticky substance in your mouth, struggling for a second as a bit of him spills from your lips before you swallow. 

“Pretty girl,” he calls out to you and you look up at him. 

You can feel the fresh tears sitting under your eyes and the drool that coats your chin. You would say you’re anything but pretty. 

But Aegon seems slightly entranced by the sight, trailing his thumb down your chin and swiping the last bit of his cum back into your mouth for you to swallow. “Such a pretty thing,” he sighs out again. 

You wait for his next movements, not knowing what to expect until he’s placing himself back in his pants.  

“Why don’t you get cleaned up and clock out for the day?” Aegon suggests, pulling you up from the floor. 

You hate how gentle he can be as if he hadn’t just forced you to suck him off in his office. It’s strange, throwing you off a bit until you find his hand shifting down over your body, past the small of your back and over your ass. 

He’s such a sleaze. 

“I have things to do,” you tell him, gently trying to pry him off of you. “Paperwork to-” 

“If you stay, I can promise you that you won’t be doing that paperwork,” Aegon tells you, taking a handful of your ass in the process. “Or do you want to stay?” 

“You know what I’m actually feeling super tired,” you tell him, forcing on a fake smile as you slip out of his grip. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

He nods, following your frame as you walk back out of the door. “Tomorrow.” 

It’s Friday, one more day of work and you have the weekend. 

You let out a deep exhale as you exit the elevator, the plan you had been going through all night will get you out of here earliest at seven pm, any later and you can take the last pieces home. There aren’t any meetings today and you’re sure after having his fill yesterday, that Aegon would be more than satisfied. It’s Friday after all, he’ll probably finish just before lunch like he usually does. 

It’s all simple, you think. The plan’s already unfolding in front of you as you step towards your desk outside his office. Only to find there’s someone else sitting in it. 

You’ve never noticed this man before. He could possibly work around the office, you wouldn’t know seeing as you’re stuck to your corner of the building throughout the whole day. But you don’t get why he’s here, sitting at your desk and scribbling on your paperwork. 

“Excuse me?” You call out to him, voice barely above a whisper. 

He doesn’t seem to react at first but just as you’re about to clear your throat, he lifts his gaze and says, “He’s waiting for you in his office.” Then he goes back to your paperwork.

This has never happened before and you feel your entire stomach drop, panic flooding your body. He normally deals with your threats quite well, laughing them off or even making threats of his own. But now, you’ve managed to cross the line. You don’t know how but you’ve ticked him off, pushed it too far. 

You step into his office with your eyes brimmed with tears, flooding the surface and threatening to spill. 

He doesn’t even look at you when you step through the doors, only demanding that you close the door after yourself. 

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, lips trembling as you stand in front of his desk. “I didn’t mean it, please.” 

He looks up instantly at this, lifting his shades to take the sight of you in and he can’t help but furrow his eyebrows. 

“I’m sorry,” you choke on the words, stifling a sob that threatens to break from the back of your throat. “Please, I can’t lose this job.” 

Aegon is up in an instant, circling the desk as his hands grab your shoulders gently. He shakes his head, still giving you that confused daze

“I’ll do anything,” you tell him, hands falling against his broad chest. Tears are spilling from your eyes as your fingers cling onto the material of his shirt. “Please. Literally anything you want. Don’t fire me, please.” 

The tension in his face falls and Aegon almost laughs as he says, “As tempting as that sounds.” He leans in, gaze darkening as he rubs at your upper arms. “And it sounds tempting.” His voice lowers in tone. “I’m not firing you.” 

“You’re not?” You’re in disbelief as you sniffle, body still trembling. 

“No.” His eyes are so focused on you, one of his hands coming to cup your cheek while his thumb trails over your wet skin. “Not at all.” 

You stare up at him with round eyes, not realising how you’re pouting at him until his thumb flicks over your lips. 

“I’ll take that offer though.” His gaze falls on yours as his lips twist into a smirk. “What does anything entail?” 

“Ugh,” you groan, pushing him off of you as you turn away from him. He really doesn’t know when to stop. 

“I’m joking,” he chuckles, coming right up behind you. You try to shrug him off but it's no use when his hands fall over your shoulders. “I just realised how much stress I was putting on you.” His fingers start to dig into the flesh around your shoulders and neck, rubbing at them soothingly and as much as you want to shake them off, you know it's best not to. It also feels good, Aegon ’s thick fingers working at the knots so well that you want to relax into it. “Burying my favourite girl in piles of office work. You need a break.” 

“I should help-” you go to move, forgetting how strong Aegon is as he keeps you in place with just his hands. 

“No,” he commands, continuing his actions as his hands work over your arms now. “They’ve got it all figured out.” 

You’re trying not to slip into his touch with another protest, “But I know where they need to be sent to and how to-” 

“They’ll manage, Y/N.” His voice is stern, a warning as you feel his breath against your ear. “I pay them enough to manage and if they don’t, then they’ll be dealt with.” His fingers slip over your shoulders, rubbing at your collarbone and then your chest. “Relax.” 

You can’t, feeling uneasy as his fingers inch closer to your breasts. 

“Relax or I might consider firing you,” he whispers in your ear, finally slipping his hands over your breasts. 

You do, letting out a shaky breath as you relax back into him. His hands grab at your breasts, kneading them over the material of your blouse. He’s soft with it, taking his delicate time to coax you into his touch. A hum is sitting on the edge of your tongue that manages to spill when he starts to suck on the skin behind your ear.

“Think it’s time I take care of my girl, hmm?” He questions, fingers shifting to unbutton your blouse. 

“I don’t know,” you go to argue. You're in two minds, you don’t want to give in and let him have his way with you but at the time you always fight back to no avail, always ending up underneath him in the end. “Sir-” your hands go to pull him away but he catches them. 

“We’ve talked about this. Call me Aegon,” he tells you, pulling your arms down to your sides before returning to your blouse. “Fight all you want but don’t think I’ll continue to play nice. Besides I think your tattered knees probably need a break or do you want to spend the rest of your work day underneath my desk?” 

“No,” you gasp, feeling his cold hands slip into your open blouse. This is better, you tell yourself. Just let him have his way and it’ll be over with. 

“Let's get you sat up on the desk, pretty girl.” He’s tugging on your waist with one hand, directing you to his desk and lifting you up so you’re sitting on it. There he turns his attention back to your breasts, eyes running over your lacy white bra with a smug grin. “All this for me? You shouldn’t have.” 

You don’t deny him, only biting at your bottom lip when his fingers slip into the top of the bra. 

“Don’t do that,” He tells you, slipping his thumb to free your lip from your teeth. He replaces it with his lips, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss all while using his hands to yank your bra down, freeing your tits in the process. “I’m going to take care of you today, okay?” 

“Yes,” you mumble in response and for the very first time in the two years you’ve known each other, you kiss him back. 

You can tell he’s eager for your acceptance, licking at your lips for them to part and give him access to your mouth. You eventually accept, slipping them open a shallow moan spills from your mouth, his fingers flicking over your nipples and catching you off guard. He notices the way you moan at the smallest touch and he can’t help but repeat it.

“All sensitive here, are we?” He teased, pinching at your nipples. “Like being touched like this, huh?” 

“Yes,” you confess, nodding hesitantly. You’re still cautious of him, still weary of completely losing yourself in this but you start to slip away again as soon as he puts a nipple between his plump lips. “Fuck.” 

You can feel your arousal already and it only seems to grow as Aegon flicks his tongue over your hardened bud, circling it until he starts sucking. He watches you the whole time, grinning into the flesh of your tits as you soft moans roll off your tongue. He switches, giving your other breast the same attention before letting your breast slip out of his mouth. 

Drool sits around his lips as he ducks further down, lifting your hips to shift the edge of your skirt up. You help him, yanking it over your hips, showing your lace panties. 

“Matching set.” Amusement seems laced in his tone as his eyes darken further. “And what’s this?” His thumb prods at the material, pushing into a damp spot where you’ve been leaking. “Look at my pretty girl,” he speaks as if he’s talking to your pussy rather than you. His finger even runs along your folds and dips again into the soaked spot. “She’s all wet and waiting for me.” 

Without warning he presses his lips against you, kissing you over the material and taking a deep sniff before sticking out his tongue. You fall backwards, catching yourself on your elbows as you try to relax, only to strain your neck to continue watching him. 

“Lie back,” he tells you, using his free hand to push your chest. 

You listen, resting your back fully against the wooden desk. While Aegon returns back to you, pushing your panties to the side and gracing your bare pussy with his wet lips. Your toes curl at the sensation and your back arches as he slides a finger into you, taking his time to get you all worked up. 

You can’t help but lift your head, eager to watch him as he laps at your clit. He’s staring at you down there, taking moments to detach himself from you in order to watch how your pussy reacts to his fingers. When he manages to squeeze another one in, stretching you out for him, you clench around him, feeling more slick ooze out of your needy hole. 

You should feel embarrassed, making a mess all over your boss’ desk. The same boss that blackmails your job against you just so he can fuck you. The same boss that is the laziest piece of shit that has you doing all his work for him. You know you should be more than ashamed, and maybe you will be after but as the pressure grows in your stomach and you let out another lewd whimper for more, you don’t. 

“Ohh look at how she’s accepting me so easily today,” Aegon chuckles, slipping a third finger and curling them all inside of you. “Think she’s close. Don’t you, pretty girl?” 

His eyes are looking up at you, smug smirk sitting on his lips as he waits for your answer and all you can do is nod. 

He returns his lips to you, only this time he isn’t as gentle as before. No, he’s making a meal out of it as he sucks at you, switching between that and lapping with his tongue at your sensitive clit. You barely even register you’re doing it as you begin to grind against him, like some sort of possessed beast, desperate for your release. He doesn’t even stop you, taking shallow breaths through his nose as he digs his face further in, pushing you over the edge. 

Your head falls back as you cum, unable to form any words as you whined and moaned for him. Your thighs are shaking around his head, threatening to shut as you have to fight to keep them open. The task only becomes more difficult as you resolve crumbles and your orgasm washes over you. 

You’re a panting mess once he’s finished, unable to string a sentence together as you lie out on his desk. You’re trying not to think, not wanting to slip into the realisation of what you let him do as he removes himself from between your legs. 

Luckily, Aegon doesn’t let you, pulling you up into his chest and holding you to it. 

“Think I need to take my pretty girl home,” he says, brushing your hair before pulling you away from his chest. He cups your face, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. “You don’t look so well. All flushed and flustered, hmm?” His eyes soften at your fucked out daze, simply nodding along with him. “Think you’re burning up as well.” 

You wince when he moves back suddenly, your cunt feeling over sensitive as it rubs against his desk and you can’t help but whimper his name. “Aegon.” 

You don’t even pick up on how you drool out his name or the way his eyes light up at the mere sound of it. It still doesn’t totally register as he softly pulls you down, helping you fix your clothes back into place, murmuring about how he’s going to make sure of his sweet girl from now on. 

None of it hits until he’s peppering your face in soft kisses at his apartment, caging you in as he presses your body with his own as he fucks you into his sheets. 

HOTD - Aegon Targaryen. HOTD - Fem x Male character Insert Master List

(Dividers by @cafekitsune)

[blindmagdalena]

The Fall

2.8k mostly sfw homelander x reader. christmas adjacent. depowered homelander.

Summary: After being struck by an unidentified projectile that renders him powerless, Homelander crash lands in your backyard, wholly at your mercy.

this is a rework of this original prompt. inspired by the fable of the mouse that aids the lion whose paw has been stuck by a thorn.  ♡

Homelander is over a hundred feet in the air when he hears something whistling through the sky behind him. Some kind of projectile. A small missile, maybe. It's nothing he hasn't handled before: It could blow up in his face and he would be fine. He’s more curious about what exactly it is, who’s stupid enough to fire it at him, and where it’s coming from. 

With that in mind–in that split second he has to react–he decides to forgo dodging it and instead attempt to catch it.  However, as the mystery projectile gets nearer, his vision begins to tunnel. 

What the fuck? 

His reflexes slow, and before he knows it, the projectile strikes him hard in his left side rib, exploding in fumes that fill his lungs and coat his skin. In an instant, he feels pain like he's been turned inside out, a sensation worse than anything he’s felt since childhood. Instantly he's plummeting towards the ground, crashing directly into your backyard in an eruption of snow and yard furniture.

With his vision going black, the last thing he hears is the sound of the world turning deafeningly quiet.

When Homelander comes to, he's being shaken. No–compressed, hands over his chest, pushing again and again in a steady rhythm. Warm lips press against his, and a rush of air fills his lungs. His eyes snap open, and out of pure reflex, he drives his fist into your unfamiliar form, sitting up with a frenzied look in his eyes.

You should have flown back thirty feet with a hit like that. Instead, you only fell back onto your ass, coughing. Homelander's hands are shaking as he looks at them, and he can feel blood dripping from his ears, taste it in his mouth. He's disoriented, his whole body heavy. He's having trouble breathing, every ragged inhale a struggle, and his heart is pounding.

"Someone tried to kill me," he rasps in disbelief. Not surprised that someone tried, but that someone very nearly succeeded. "Someone... Someone tried to fucking kill me," he says again, growing more hysteric the more the pain sets in. His own brain is hammering against the confines of his skull, beating at the backs of his eyes.

He’s certain that he’s halfway to cardiac arrest, but no matter how he tries to focus, he can’t calm himself. His strength is gone. It’s gone. He looks at you, you, who should have a hole punched through your chest. Instead, you’re staggering to your feet, totally unharmed. 

"Homelander!" You address sharply, audibly trying to rein in your own bubbling panic. He can see his own fear reflected in your eyes. You’re just as confused as he is. Just a stupid little mouse that crawled out of your hole and found him like this. "I can help you, okay? Let me help you."

There’s something about the sharp authority in your voice mixed with an undeniable quiver of compassion that catches his attention. It could be the degree of his vulnerability sinking in, but after a second of dumbfounded staring, Homelander nods.

It must be pure adrenaline that gives you the strength to help him into your house. You don’t look like you should be able to carry him. He's practically dead weight in your arms, barely keeping himself on his feet as you both stumble into your living room. The height difference does neither of you any favors.

You get him down onto the couch before fetching a wet rag, a bottle of water, pills, and a first aid kit. He watches you fumble with it, hands shaking. He assumes it’s adrenaline, though you lack the acidic stench of it. No, you probably don’t. He just can’t smell it anymore. He can’t smell anything except the faint tinge of blood, and whatever nauseating scented candle you use to stink up your home. Though, even that’s distant compared to what he’s used to. However, he finds he doesn’t have it in him to panic. Is this what shock feels like?

He takes the water you offer him, but denies the pills. “No, no. I have no idea what that shit will do to me right now.” You nod, setting the bottle aside. You then lean over him, inspecting the level of damage. His ears are ringing, and his whole body is throbbing with sharp, painful aches. Maybe the pills would help, but he’s never had to take painkillers before. He’d rather swallow tacks than lean on something so pedestrian.

As you work, he notices a mottled mark blossoming darkly across the center of your chest, just under your collarbone, approximately the size of his fist. Without thinking, he reaches up to touch it, remembering the blow he’d dealt you.

You startle, looking down where he touches with a wince. The skin looks as tender as he feels. It must sting. Is he bruised like this beneath his suit? The thought of these same ugly dark marks mirrored on his own body brings him visceral disgust. 

"Don't worry about me," you tell him, as comforting as your voice can muster. You grasp his wrist and gently lay it back down at his side.

I'm not worried about you, he thinks derisively. "That should have caved in your chest."

"Guess it's my lucky day, then," you say absently, more focused on using a wet cloth to wipe away the blood from his temple, up into his hairline, seeking the injury. You're meticulous but gentle in the way you handle him, cupping the side of his face to turn him one way, then another.

If not for how clumsy your movements feel, he’d think you’ve done this before. There is care and determination in the way you tend to him, but no obvious medical expertise. Even the kit you pull from looks out of date and sparse. You probably picked it up from a gas station on a whim because you needed safety pins. "I think these need stitches," you say as you carefully apply bandages, brows furrowed. Homelander's gaze lingers on your lips as you speak. What kind of person sees someone fall out of the fucking sky, blowing a crater in their yard in the process, and then thinks to give them CPR?

"I'm calling an ambulance," you say, moving to stand. That breaks him out of his stupor. He catches you by the wrist, stopping you in your tracks, despite how pitifully weak his own grasp feels. "No, no, not... Don't do that," he says, screwing his eyes shut briefly. No one else can know that this happened. Besides, if those psychopaths are still out there, it will draw them right to him. "Too much attention, I just... give me a fucking minute," he says, flexing his hands. They still feel weak, tingling like they've fallen asleep, but the bizarre sensation is gradually beginning to abate.

Whatever was done to him, it doesn't seem to be permanent. 

He hopes to fuck that it isn’t. "Okay," you say tentatively. Instead of leaving, however, you reposition to continue wiping the blood from his face, gently rubbing from his temples down his jaw. He watches you like a hawk, rolling his fingers in and out of fists, gradually feeling his strength return to him.

He's unaccustomed to the way you're handling him. One hand cupping his jaw, ginger in the way you move his head only when you absolutely need to. The concern wrinkled between your brows is so palpable, so sincere, that for a moment he almost forgets you're strangers to each other.

"What're you doing?" He asks eventually, voice low. You pause, looking down to meet his eye. "Oh, I just... There's still blood, and I didn't want to leave you alone."

Your response tightens something in his chest, like a steel coil wrung too tight, leaving him uncomfortable. He feels small, vulnerable, and the tenderness of your touch is doing nothing for it. "I don't need you," he snaps defensively. "I'm fine."

"Okay," you respond, aggravatingly calm. Still soothing. "What do you need?" Homelander opens his mouth, but hesitates. Your earnestness is infuriating, waiting on bated breath for what you can do for him. He closes his mouth, jaw tight. His gaze flickers back down to the bruise on your chest. It's darker now, varying shades of purple and yellow fading into one another.

Looking back up at you, he schools his expression into calm focus. "Close the blinds," he says, gesturing with his head to the window, where you have twinkling white Christmas lights strung up. 

"I need to lay low awhile." He can feel his powers steadily returning. Once he gets back to Vought, he'll find out who it was, and rip out their fucking spine.

You've already gotten up to do as he asked, drawing the blinds down, and then closing the curtains over them. Afterwards, you turn to leave.

"Hey," Homelander calls, frowning. You stop in the doorway. "Where are you going?"

"The kitchen," you answer, hand on the doorframe. "You can call if you need something."

"Stay here," he says, ignoring the bit of petulance he can hear in his own voice. He doesn't care if you're confused. He doesn't care that he doesn't entirely understand himself. He just wants you to stay.

He watches you take a seat at the end of the couch, near his feet. He exhales, closing his eyes. It isn't as though you could do anything if proficient killers did appear, but for whatever reason, no matter how useless you would ultimately be, he feels better for having you near.

Even a curtain is better than no door at all.

After half an hour, his senses begin to sharpen again. It begins as a dull, irritating buzz at first. It has him rubbing at his ears, screwing his eyes shut. It rolls in and out of focus, making it difficult to adjust to. “Are you okay?” You ask from the other end of the couch, where you’ve been sitting with remarkable patience. Maybe you’re afraid of him. He hates not being able to tell by the rate of your heart.

“Peachy keen,” he replies flatly. “Hearing’s coming back.”

“That’s good,” you say, though the inflection you end with makes it sound more like a question.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s good, it’s just… Loud,” he says, grinding the heel of his palm into his temple. His skull is still pounding. “Everything’s all… Coming back in a jumble. Giving me a fucking headache,” he says, though as he speaks, he realizes he’s able to focus fairly well on the conversation, drowning out the more intrusive ambient sounds. “Keep talking.”

You look surprised by his demand, but after a beat, you oblige. After maybe an hour of idle conversation, he learns your name, that you work from home, you like decorating for Christmas even when you spend it alone, and that you've lived a thoroughly dull, ordinary little life until this very moment.

That’s just what you’ve told him.

From his personal observations, he's learned that you’re a perpetual fidgeter, that you touch your face when you're nervous, and that you would rather laugh than take any of his disparaging remarks about your mundane life to heart.

"I think it's lucky for you that I’m so boring. I might not have been here otherwise," you counter. Your smile is so inexplicably charming–nose wrinkled like you’ve somehow pulled a fast one on him–that Homelander forgets to refute your point. Instead, much to your alarm, he sits up.

"Oh, steady! Are you sure you're okay?" You ask, standing as he does, hands out as if to catch him. He stretches his hands out in front of him, and then curls his arms back in. Exhaling, his eyes flare crimson. He likes the way it makes your heart jump when he looks at you through the red glow.

His lips quirk, lasers fading out. "Good as new," he says confidently, though the aches of his fall still linger in his joints. Not quite new. He takes a few long strides across your living room, pausing in the doorway to your kitchen, where he can see through to your yard, and the absolute crater he left in it. "Vought will... take care of that," he says, gesturing vaguely to the destruction.

You can't help but laugh, crossing your arms loosely to survey the damage with him. "I appreciate it, but really, I'm just glad you're alright," you say honestly, staring out into the wreckage of your yard.

Homelander purses his lips slightly, glancing at you from his peripheral. Above him, he feels something brush the top of his head. When he glances up, what he sees hanging in the doorway makes him smile deviously.

Without warning, he puts his hands on your waist and spins you to him, lips landing warm and firm on yours. He absolutely devours the surprised little noise you make against him, halfway tempted to see what other sounds he can wring from you.

Your heart quickens to a race in his ears, and much to his delight, you kiss him back. You even surprise him by grabbing the back of his head with both hands, deepening the kiss of your own volition.

Not one to be out done, he adjusts his hold on you, one arm wrapping properly around your waist while the other slides up to cup the back of your neck, gloved fingers gently squeezing your bare skin.

To his delight, you retaliate with your tongue, slipping it between his lips and coaxing his forth.

Just full of surprises, little mouse.

Maybe you aren't so boring after all.

He meets you eagerly, exhaling a rough, excited little huff through his nose, dropping the hand at your waist to grab a cheeky squeeze full of your ass, wringing a soft moan from you that sends a bolt of heat straight to his cock.

When Homelander pulls back, you're flushed warmly all over. You smell of antiseptic wipes and peppermint, like Christmas in a hospital. It’s bizarrely appealing.

"What was that?" You ask, dazed.

"Mistletoe," he purrs, tipping his head back without taking his eyes off you, settling his hands back on your waist.

You look up slowly–taking a solid few seconds to process–and huff a gentle little laugh, nodding at the aforementioned ornament dangling above you. 

"Is this your way of saying thank you?" You manage to ask after swallowing back the lump in your throat, your shoulders relaxing, though your heart continues to gallop in your chest. "I hope you're still going to pay for my yard."

It's Homelander's turn to laugh. "Oh, no. I haven't even begun to say thank you yet," he assures you, hands lingering on your hips. 

The kiss had been pure unrestricted impulse, nothing he intended to follow through on. However, now that you're toying with the hair at the nape of his neck, your skin warm against his, your eyes half lidded, he’s not sure that he wants to let you go. Your lips shine where you’ve licked the taste of his from them. 

“I think for your good deeds, you’re owed a very merry Christmas,” he says, waggling his brows. 

You give a flustered, incredulous bark of laughter, covering your mouth as you look away from him, that flush of yours intensifying, making your whole body thrum warmly. You wouldn’t need to worry about keeping warm on these cold winter nights if he had his way with you.

“Okay, well, uhm, thank you for… for that thought,” you say, tripping over your words in a way you haven’t this entire encounter. “You hit your head pretty hard, though so maybe before you make any promises, we make sure you get checked out by an actual doctor,” you say, pushing lightly against his chest.

He maintains his hold for just a second longer, utterly immovable. It feels good to be himself again. He runs his tongue along his teeth, downright predatory in the way he stares down at you, but he does relinquish his hold.

“You should come with me to the tower. You know, now that you’re… Compromised,” he says, folding his hands behind his back. “Someone might come looking for me here. Interrogate you on my condition.”

Real fear flashes in your eyes at that. “Wait, you’re serious?”

“As a heart attack,” he gives back gravely.

“Uh… Okay. Uhm, let me… I’ll pack a bag,” you say nervously, stepping away from him to do just that.

“Okie-dokie,” he gives back simply, glancing around your home while he waits. He picks up an odd little gnome with a big red hat that covers everything but a little button nose, and a long white beard. Maybe he’ll convince you to bring along some of your festive decorations.

Merry Christmas to me, he thinks, already daydreaming about twisting the head off of whoever hit him with some kind of neutralizing agent.

He might thank them for the impromptu date while he’s at it.

[melzula]

Break Apart

pairing: Zuko x princess!reader

notes: i know i’ve said previously that i don’t like going backwards with fire lilies but i feel like i didn’t do this scene justice the first time so i decided to rework the piece. plus i think revisiting this scene will be important before starting smoke and shadow

summary: your peaceful life with Zuko comes crashing down in the crystal catacombs of Ba Sing Se.

~ part of the fire lilies series ~

You pull the shutters apart and let the sun shine through your new home in Ba Sing Se. The morning is just getting started, and as Iroh begins fixing breakfast for your little family you take it upon yourself to begin the day’s chores before it’s time to head to work. It’s been a long week, what with Zuko’s sickness and the hassle of moving into the Upper Ring, and you’re beginning to feel worn out from the emotional turmoil, but you do your best to keep these feelings to yourself in order to not ruin Iroh’s excitement for the opening of his tea shop. At least one of you gets to live out the life you dreamed for yourself in the city.

You eventually end up outside hanging the freshly washed clothes to dry, brows furrowed in thought as you pin the fabrics to the clothesline and hum a song Iroh used to perform for you during your day’s on Zuko’s ship. You’re too engrossed in your work to notice you have company, and it isn’t until you hear someone gently clear their throat that you turn to see Zuko standing before you with a smile on his face and two bowls of pongi in his hands.

“You’re up early,” you note with a raised brow before accepting his offering of breakfast.

“I wanted to have breakfast with you,” he says with a gentle smile as the two of you seat yourselves on the steps of your apartment. “It’s a beautiful day out, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I suppose,” you reply carefully, unused to his positive demeanor. “You’re not still feeling sick, are you?”

He laughs at the way you press the back of your hand to his forehead and feel for his temperature before carefully lowering it down. “I feel better than I ever have before. I’m really starting to like it here, and I wish I could have realized sooner how peaceful life is with you in Ba Sing Se.”

“Uncle was right, you really have undergone a metamorphosis,” you note, half teasing and half serious as you take a bite of your pongi. “But I’m happy you’re finally deciding to give the city a chance, my love.”

“It’s something I should have done sooner, and I plan to make up for all the time I wasted being miserable instead of enjoying my new life with you. I love you, y/n, and I’m going to make things right for us.”

You’re pleasantly caught off guard by the sweet kiss Zuko gives you after tenderly cupping your face in his hands and pulling you forward to meet his lips. You easily melt at his touch like you always do, and for a moment you’re able to forget all the hurt and insecurity you’ve felt for the last few years. Your relationship had suffered a few rough patches recently, and you worried that you’d never be enough for Zuko no matter how hard you tried, but it seemed that things were finally beginning to fall into place, and you could live the life you’d always dreamed of since running away with Zuko.

Finally parting from the kiss, he gifts you a sweet kunik before pulling away and taking your empty bowl of pongi with him. “I have to start getting ready for the grand opening of the Jasmine Dragon. You’ll be there, won’t you?”

“Of course. Miss Tai is letting me leave my shift early today so I can be there,” you assure him with a smile. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“I love you,” Zuko utters earnestly in response, “and I’m happy you’re still here with me.”

You longingly watch his form retreat inside, already beginning to miss his touch. But you have work to do before your shift at the dress shop, so you rise from your seat on the steps and resume hanging the laundry to dry.

Life is going to be perfect now, you can feel it.

~~~

The opening of the Jasmine Dragon was a success, so successful, in fact, that the Earth King himself has invited Iroh to serve tea in the palace.

The Earth Kingdom palace is certainly different from the palace you grew up in, and though you yourself are technically royalty you feel as if you don’t belong in such a grand space. The dress Miss Tai had loaned you and the way she had styled your hair for you at least makes you look the part, and you make sure to be on your best behavior as you wait with Iroh and Zuko for the king to arrive.

You neatly set out the cups as Iroh begins pouring the tea with a pleased smile on his face while a restless Zuko surveys the room for any sign of the king.

“What’s taking so long?”

“Maybe the king overslept,” Iroh suggests, prompting you to raise your brow at his unlikely explanation.

“He’s a busy man, Zuko. I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” you assure him, but the former Prince isn’t convinced so easily. The sudden appearance of Dai Li agents only furthers his apprehension as they begin to close in on your little trio.

“Something’s not right,” he utters anxiously, and as your gaze falls upon the shifty eyes of the agents before you you find yourself slowly pulling the tea pot towards you in preparation for bending.

“It’s tea time,” a familiar voice chimes prompting Zuko to immediately rise to his feet. The mere sight of the Princess is enough to prompt you to bend the tea out of the pot, and though it isn’t much you’re able to close your fists and produce small blades of water that shoot sharply from your palms. It’s a move you’ve seen Zuko perform countless times with fire, and it’s a move that you’ve managed to perfect just as easily with water.

“Azula!” He scowls only for her to smirk in response.

“Have you met the Dai Li agents yet? They’re earth benders, but they have a killer instinct that’s so fire bender. I just love it,” she punctuates with a clenched fist before her eyes shift to your makeshift water daggers. “I see that’s something you’re trying to mimic, Princess. Such a cute little trick.”

“It isn’t so hard,” you reply with a relaxed shrug much to Azula’s dismay.

“But of course,” she sneers disapprovingly at your lack of fear for her.

Breaking the silence, Iroh suddenly says, “Did I ever tell you how I got the nickname the Dragon of the West?”

“I’m not interested in a lengthy anecdote, Uncle,” she scoffs with a bored expression, but Iroh merely smiles.

“It’s more of a demonstration, really,” he explains before taking a sip from his cup of tea. Before you can even process what’s happening, the man quickly pulls both you and Zuko behind him before exhaling a breath of fire around the room. With the Dai Li temporarily disabled, you’re able to make your escape out of the palace.

Using a blast of lightning to break through the walls, both Iroh and yourself make the jump through the hole and land down below in the the shrubbery. However, Zuko doesn’t follow behind, and instead you’re forced to watch him chase after Azula.

“We have to help him!” You cry only for Iroh to stop you.

“Even with our abilities combined we will not be able to outmatch both Azula and the Dai Li agents on our own,” he utters carefully.

“Then what are we to do? We can’t just leave him behind,” you express worriedly. You have no idea what Azula has in store for her brother, and you don’t want to leave Zuko in her clutches long enough to find out. You know Iroh’s right, but you can’t just sit and do nothing.

“We’ll have to get help,” Iroh notes thoughtfully, and you’re left with no choice but to blindly follow the man as he begins to head back towards the city.

“Help from who?”

~~~~

It’s safe to say Iroh and yourself are the last two people the Avatar and his friends expected to see at their doorstep, but you’re not left with many other options.

“Princess?!” Sokka exclaims in surprise at the sight of you as you gift him a meager wave of hello in return. The last time you’d seen each other had been during the siege of the North, so it was safe to say he was more than surprised to see you here in Ba Sing Se. “What’s going on? Have you finally come to your senses and decided to leave Zuko?”

“What? No!” You cry indignantly much to the boy’s disappointment. “It’s the opposite, actually. We came to ask for your help.”

“Princess Azula is here in Ba Sing Se,” Iroh explains gravely.

“She must have Katara!”

“She has captured my nephew, as well.”

“Then we’ll work together to fight Azula,” the Avatar expressed firmly, “and save Zuko and Katara.”

“Whoa, there,” Sokka interjects immediately. “You lost me at ‘Zuko.’”

“I know how you must feel about my nephew, but believe me when I tell you there is good in him,” Iroh insists earnestly, but Sokka doesn’t budge.

“Good inside him isn’t enough!” He insists. “Why don’t you come back when it’s outside him, too, okay?”

“Sokka,” you call gently, eyes full of sincerity and a hint of guilt as the Water Tribe boy meets your gaze. “Please understand. We just want him back safe. I need him back safe. I know Zuko has done horrible things to you and your friends, things I don’t expect you to forgive, but we don’t stand a chance against Azula and the Dai Li on our own.”

“Katara is in trouble,” Aang reiterates to a contemplative Sokka, your words swimming in his thoughts. The mere look of sadness on your face is almost enough to make him cave in, but not quite. “All of Ba Sing Se is in trouble. Working together is our best chance.”

After a moment’s pause, Sokka finally relents. Relief immediately washes over you now that you know the Avatar and his friends are going to help you get Zuko back. “Thank you, Aang. Your kindness means more than you know.”

“I’m just returning the favor,” the boy says with a sheepish smile, prompting you to recall fondly your first meeting with him on Zuko’s ship long ago.

With the Avatar’s help, you stand a chance now, and as your group heads to the crystal catacombs you once again feel that sense of hope grow in your heart.

Once this little bump in the road is over, you can resume your perfect life with Zuko, all you need to do is just get through the day.

And you will.

~~~

You journey underground with Iroh and the Avatar to the crystal catacombs, tuning out their conversation as your mind reels over your worry for Zuko. It figures that after having such a perfect day the universe would throw something like this at you. But that’s just the way your relationship was, and anytime a hurdle had been cast your way you’d always been able to overcome it. This time would be no different.

After finally arriving in the crystal cave, you’re quick to lift the skirt of your dress and sprint towards Zuko before flinging yourself into his arms.

“You’re okay!” You exclaim, voice coated with relief.

“What are you doing traveling with the Avatar?” He asks, almost as if he’s insulted by Aang’s mere presence.

“Saving you, that’s what,” Aang replies testily, prompting Zuko to lunge forward only for Iroh to hold him back.

“We wouldn’t have been able to find you without him,” you explain truthfully. “Please don’t be upset.”

Zuko had never really gotten over your little stunt back on his ship when you’d helped the Avatar escape, so seeing you by Aang’s side again felt like rubbing salt in the Prince’s wound. He was trying to be better for you, but the conflict within him still remained.

“Zuko, it’s time we talked,” Iroh says before encouraging Katara and Aang to move ahead without your group.

“Why, Uncle?” Zuko asks softly, hurt clear in his voice. Your gentle eyes meet his own and he looks away in shame, unable to return your gaze. He knows he’s disappointed you too many times to count, but he’s not sure how much longer he can keep up this charade of pretending to be happy in this dirt prison you now call home. He doesn’t want to admit this to you, but the conflict within him continues to fester.

“You are not the man you used to be, Zuko. You are stronger and wiser and freer than you have ever been,” Iroh says proudly. “And now you have come to the crossroads of your destiny. It is time for you to choose. It is time for you to choose good.”

A hopeful smile plays upon your lips at Iroh’s words, but it is quickly wiped away by the sudden rumbling of the cave. Before you can even process what’s happening, Iroh and yourself are encased in crystal.

“Y/n!” Zuko exclaims, but he isn’t left with time to free you once Azula appears with the Dai Li at her side.

“I expected this kind of treachery from Uncle and your little girlfriend,” she says sharply, “but Zuko, Prince Zuko, you’re a lot of things, but you’re not a traitor, are you?”

“Release them immediately!” He demands firmly, his hardest gaze focused on Azula. The crystals dig uncomfortably into your sides and pin your limbs in cramped positions, but you have enough movement in your wrists to bend should you need to.

“Are you sure? I think the crystals are quite flattering on y/n, don’t you?” Azula goads playfully to an unamused Zuko.

As his sister tries to fill his head with promises of redemption and honor in exchange for his help, and as Iroh tries to persuade him in the right direction, you focus your attention on looking for any source of water to help you. Your eyes land on a trickle of water that drops from the roof, but you don’t make your move until Azula has left the room.

“Zuko, you have to help Aang and Katara. If Azula and the Dai Li catch up to them they won’t be able to fight them off on their own,” you express urgently as you use your free hands to pull the droplets of water towards you. “Iroh and I will be right behind you.”

You’re too engrossed in your escape plan at first to notice that Zuko doesn’t budge, but when you lift your gaze to see he hasn’t moved at all a frown quickly pulls at your lips. “Zuko?”

A sense of dread washes over you at his lack of response, and for a moment you fear that perhaps Azula had gotten to him, but then he finally moves to meets your gaze. The green crystals of the catacombs reflect beautifully in your tired eyes, and Zuko can’t help but try to commit the scene to his memory. It will probably be the last good one he’ll be able to keep of you.

He finally gives you a silent nod in response, but not before urging you to stay behind.

“You’ll be safer here,” he says, and he doesn’t give you a chance to argue as he runs off in search of Aang, leaving Iroh and yourself behind.

After gathering enough water, you cover the crystal in ice until the intense cold prompts it to crack, and with a firm flick of your wrists the ice and crystal shatter so that you are finally free from the trap. You move to do the same for Iroh, but he quickly shakes his head to stop you.

“You must go and help the Avatar. I will catch up with you shortly,” he assures you. “There isn’t time to waste.”

You give him a firm nod before rushing after Zuko, hoping you’re not too late to offer your help. The crystals had ripped through the skirt of your dress, and though you felt guilty for ruining the clothes Miss Tai had lent you, you’re grateful for the range of motion the tattered fabric now gives you. Hopefully Zuko won’t be too mad at you for disobeying his request.

The commotion in the catacombs has you pushing yourself to run faster, but when you finally reach your destination you’re quick to skid to a stop at the sight before you.

Katara has Azula in her grasp, and it’s clear that the Fire Princess is at a disadvantage. Zuko’s back is turned to you, and at first it looks as if he’s about to help the water bender. But when his blast of flames cuts through her water arms and frees his sister you’re left with a dreadful conclusion.

Your heart sinks to your stomach as you realize Zuko hadn’t come here to help the Avatar- he’d come to defeat him.

“Zuko…” you utter softly, your features riddled with heartbreak and disappointment as he finally turns to look at you after hearing the sound of your voice. The eyes of the boy that stare coldly at you now are not the same ones that once used to look upon you with nothing but love and adoration.

There is no remorse or guilt on his features, but there is anger and resentment. He’s never looked upon you this way, fury blazing along his irises as if you’re the enemy, as if he hated you.

“How kind of you to join us, Princess,” Azula calls with a taunting smile. You swallow harshly and stand frozen in place, too in shock to move. But then she gestures to Zuko, and a sickness settles in your stomach as he slowly begins to approach you.

“Zuko, stop. This isn’t you,” you beg desperately, cowering away from his menacing figure. “Please, don’t do this.“

“This is me,” he says gravely. “You just didn’t want to see it.”

You can’t help but let out a scream as he shoots a blast of fire towards you, and you’re barely quick enough to form a wall of water to block his attack. His moves are relentless, but no matter how many times he strikes you don’t dare fight back. Your moves are defensive, for even though he’s turned against you, you can’t bring yourself to hurt him.

“I don’t want to fight you!” You insist, narrowly missing the fire he whips at you.

“Are you sure about that?” He retorts harshly, eyes hard-set on the water swirling in your palms. “You’re afraid of me, you always have been. You think I’m a monster!”

“That’s not true!” You cry desperately as you block another attack.

“You only stayed by my side to try and fix me so you could feel better about yourself. You’re no different than the rest of your people.”

“Zuko,” you gasp in disbelief. “How can you say that?! I love you!”

“You’re just a spoiled little Princess who thinks being a water bender makes her special.”

“Stop it. That’s Azula talking, not you.”

“You left your people to fulfill your own childish dreams of love. What a joke,” he scoffs harshly before hitting you with another blast of flames. “You’re selfish! You’re weak! You’re-“

You don’t want to hear anymore. It’s as if he has your heart in his hands, squeezing it apart with each insult he throws your way. Your Zuko is gone.

He isn’t able to finish his assault as the tsunami like wave of water you send his way sweeps him off his feet and throws him across the catacomb. The water roars deafeningly in your ears, drowning out the sound of the anguished sobs that wrack your body as you finally turning your bending on the one you love.

The rest of the fight seems to be a blur as you do your best to hold off Dai Li agents, but once Azula shoots Aang down with a blast of lighting it’s clear that the battle is lost. The fire siblings are beginning to close in on your group, and in a last ditch effort you find yourself standing protectively in front of Katara and Aang ready to fight for as long as you can. However, you find you don’t need to when Iroh swoops in and saves your group.

“You’ve got to get out of here. I’ll hold them off for as long as I can!” He insists before blocking the Dai Li from reaching you.

You hesitate in your tracks, unsure about leaving behind the man who had become family. As if reading your thoughts, he gives you a firm nod of encouragement. “Go, Princess.”

Swallowing harshly, you urge Katara to her feet and guide her to the waterfall. As she holds Aang’s limp body securely in her grasp, you use your bending to reverse the flow of the water so that it sends your trio upwards. Tears stream steadily down your face, but your gaze remains firm and set straight ahead.

Your relationship with Zuko is over.

~~~

The tide is calm as the Fire Nation ship sails towards the Capital City. After three long years, Zuko is finally returning home. It’s all he’s ever wanted, but for some reason it feels as if something is still missing. There’s a relentless ache in his chest that won’t leave him be, and he can do nothing but stare contemplatively out at the water.

“You seriously can’t still be worried about finally coming home,” a voice calls playfully as cold hands rest upon his tense shoulders. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, you’re practically a hero now.”

“I know that,” Zuko snaps irritably. Mai simply rolls her eyes in response.

“Then what is it?” She retorts only to be met with silence. Her eyes harden suddenly, and she yanks her hands away from him as if revolted by the Prince. “Don’t tell me you’re still hung up on that water Princess.”

“Of course not.”

“Sure,” Mai replies flatly, obviously unconvinced. “You don’t need her, Zuko.”

“I know that! She was just a distraction,” he tells her, trying to convince not only Mai but himself of it. “She never really meant anything to me.”

“I wish I could say I feel sorry for her,” Mai says unsympathetically with a bored wave of her hand, “but she must have been an idiot to expect you to live the rest of your life as a peasant.”

“Yeah…” Zuko murmurs quietly, remembering the way your eyes hard sparkled in the catacombs. They shined brighter when they were full of tears, and the image haunted him.

He’s pulled away from his thoughts by Mai’s hands gently guiding his face towards her own. A rare smile plays upon her lips as she pulls him in for a kiss. Zuko returns the gesture, but it’s empty.

He feels absolutely nothing.

~~~

Sokka is hesitant to approach you, unsure if his presence will make things worse for your emotional state. The tears haven’t stopped since you escaped from Ba Sing Se, but he feels awful just sitting there without attempting to comfort you. He never really understood just how someone like you could love Zuko or why you were ever with him in the first place, but all of it meant something to you, and he couldn’t ignore that.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asks gently, well aware of how stupid the question is. Obviously you aren’t, but he isn’t sure what else to say.

“I should have known I’d never be enough for him,” you weep miserably. “I was foolish to think he would ever put me before his need to restore his honor and please his father. How could I have been so naive?!”

“It’s not your fault,” the water tribe boy consoles while placing a comforting hand on your trembling shoulder. “It isn’t naive to want to see the good in people. You tried to find it in Zuko, but it just wasn’t there.”

“I gave up everything for him,” you murmur dully, exhaustion and defeat clear in your features. “And now I have nothing.”

“You have us,” Sokka corrects you with a careful smile. “Trust me, you’re better off without that jerk.”

You carefully wipe away your tears and give Sokka a meek smile in return for his kind words. “Thank you, Sokka. I’m more than grateful for your compassion. I promise to do all I can to help you and your friends defeat the Fire Lord.”

After all this time, after all the hurt and the guilt, all the running and the hiding, you’ve finally left Zuko. And you don’t intend to ever look back.

| atla tags: @sirkekselord @chronic-daydreamer-blog @niktwazny303

| zuko tags: @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @knaite-solo @taeeemin

| fire lilies tags: @titaniafire @emberislandplayers @kikaninchen-2 @music-geek19 @thia-aep @thyunnamed @haylaansmi @nataliahaslosthershit @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @thirstyforsometea @ihaveaproblem98 @brown-eyed-thang @xapham @misnmatchedsox @chewymoustachio @that-bucket-hat-gal @chilifrylizard2 @kyomihann @kaylove12 @kiwihoee @freggietale @noodlesfluffy @moon-spirit-yue @bubblegum-bee-otch

[saddock-haddock]

Humans are a plague which breeds and pollutes.

That's what your taught on homeworld. No mercy is to be given to sapiens of Terra Firma. The only good human is a dead one. Again and again this message is told, again and again through it, actions that safeguard the homeworld are enacted. Ships bearing their red cross are destroyed. Commerce ships are commandeered and any resistance quelled through total annihilation. The is little to no martial discipline amoungst these apes. On several occasion what appeared to be medical equipment to treat mammals has been brandished at me and my fellows. But they were no match for our arsnel. We took over their base on Xero Gamma, dispatching their mechanical transporters and burning their rooting vegetation. Our campaign to keep our systems clean of their pollution was a success.

On one occasion however a pod escaped and engage hyperdrive before photon torpodoes could neutralise it. A fleeing enemy will likely note the advesary it faces outclasses it, and as such is unlikely to return. A much needed lesson to stop the outbreak and keep our system safe.

There was no activity to be found in our system for a whole lightyear. We brought our successful findings to the higher order, who warned against pursuit of the polluters. We thought nothing of it.

We were wrong.

Homeworld sits next to the Starheart of a twenty planetary orbit, the beaken of our supremacy in our system.

We did not know war had come till eighteen, nineteen and twenty went quiet. The first combat humans I encountered were in sector seven of planet sixteen. These are not the same creatures as before. They are violence incarnate. They use mechanical and chemical weaponry, whilst woefully inefficient compared to our plasma rifles, the results haunt me to this hour. Metal projectiles do no simply fire superheated plasma through a target, they shatter and SHRED THE TARGET, ripping apart the inside before exit. One weilded a sharp pole, my etynomicon informs me this called a... Bastard Sword. It cut down 15 of our finest before succumning to phaser fire. This technique of...[searching for term] blade work is rare amoung the sapiens. However I have recieved reports of one human reworking our technology to create a plasma blade. My stoneheart trembles from the footage salvaged by inteligence. Audio files synced to visual indicate a blaring of war sounds...[loading] death metal. A type of... music from this particular sapien. Their strength rivals our Kullo, and their fellow sapiens cheer at their presence on the battlefield. Intelligence states that to their fellow sapiens, this individual is know as... [loading term] Hellwalker.

[hijackalx]

PRICE OF WIT +18

(tumblr vers.)

SUMMARY: Astarion can be so mean sometimes, but he swears he can make it up to you.

WORD COUNT: 1788

UNDER THE CUT: F!Reader, dom!astarion, VERY sub reader, make-up sex (kinda?), YALL ARE TOXIC AF TOGETHER, mean!astarion, possessive!astarion, praise, choking, biting, sadism and masochism, small mention of gale being a pervert lol

A/N: reworked this to be in second person, and also edited it since the AO3 version did not get that kind of love 💀 some lines/paragraphs have been changed. also this was originally written with act I/act II astarion in mind but i guess it works for ascended astarion too.

"NO! LET ME GO!"

Intelligent with a silver tongue to boot, Astarion can work his way through and into almost any circumstances he desires.

"I HATE YOU!"

A quick way out of a sticky situation? Got it. A smooth approach into a pleasurable one? No doubt. The world is his for the taking.

"I HATE YOU!"

Except for when it's not.

Sometimes his mouth moves faster than his brain. He occasionally says something a little too harsh, a little too cold— ice cold, and it doesn't matter how much or how little he means it, it still hurts.

Wit has a price, it seems.

You claw and shriek in his grasp. You didn't get far before he managed to wrap his arms around you and stop you from disappearing to who knows where. He winces as your fingernails dig into the skin of his forearms. He succeeds in grabbing your wrists and folding them against your body, trapping you against his chest.

"You're acting like a child!" He shouts through an exhausted growl as you continue to resist his hold.

He knows what he said was wrong— it was a snarky slip of the tongue. But you stormed off before he could apologize, so who's really the problem here?

The fire glows and crackles in the crisp night air, accompanied by Gale and Karlach, whose meals have been so rudely interrupted by your shrill screams. Although, they watch the tussle unfazed. This wouldn't be the first time you and him have had a peace-disrupting argument.

"They're the most immature people I've ever met," Karlach takes a bite of her turkey leg, her tone more irritated than anything. "No good for each other, those two."

Gale watches how you kick up dust and dirt just outside of Astarion's tent. He'd only heard pieces of what led to this as you spoke behind the fabric; some kind of complaint by Astarion that has clearly been taken to heart. Sighing, he meets Karlach's eyes, their shared gaze molding into apprehensive weariness.

"Well," he mutters into a lamb chop, "looks like we're in for another sleepless night."

"I love you, I love you, I love you—" your softly whimpered phrase is the only sound to be heard after the camp has settled in their bedrolls for the night.

All Astarion had to do was guide you back into his tent and successfully lay you down. After that, you were more willing to hear him out.

Your bodies are bathed in the gentle lantern light, your back pressed firmly to his bedding and your legs wrapped around his waist. He intertwines your fingers as he steadies your hands above your head. Soft, white locks tickle your cheek as he nuzzles into your neck, his teeth teasing at the skin every so often.

His pace is rhythmical but rough, his hips flush between your legs as he aims for your cervix— his favorite spot. He loves the way you writhe and try to push him away while pleading for more. The way your heels press into his back, how your voice breaks while you call out for him.

"I've got you, sweetheart," his exhales are hot against your skin.

His hand slips down to pinch your side after hearing you stifle a moan, a quick but effective reprimand. You squeak at how he cruelly twists the flesh, your abdomen tensing.

"Don't hold back," he scolds, and you catch how his brows lower in the corner of your eye. Your modesty has offended him.

You screw your eyes shut, mustering up the ability to speak clearly. "T-they'll hear," you blurt out. It's only fair to be considerate to your fellow party members— or at least try to.

Your response makes him laugh, and this time you're the one scrunching your brows. You don't understand what's so amusing until he says, "You wouldn't want to deprive Gale of his own pleasures, would you?"

You go entirely rigid, your face dropping slightly at how sure he sounds.

Questionably, he sits up to examine you, immediately noticing your change in expression. "What?" He asks. "Don't tell me you didn't know?"

Eyes wide and cheeks flushed a deep red, you stare up at him speechlessly. What he's implying is that... gale has been... touching himself while you and him are together?

How perverse.

He coos, squeezing your cheek and giving it a shake. "You're so cute." His condescending tone doesn't make you want to smack him in the face, strangely enough. In fact, you think you might like it judging by the way your stomach turns.

You take a moment to recover from the thought of your private acts not being so private. Noticing this, he balances his hands on the ground beside you, then pulls out before fully sheathing himself again with a fast, hard thrust. Your body jolts like it's been injured, and you can't hold back your yelp. His features are nothing short of devilish upon hearing the sound.

Sometimes he likes to be mean— but sometimes you like to let him.

"I quite like... the idea... actually," he says through breaths while he fucks you, his half-lidded gaze watching how your tits bounce. Leaning down, he begins to leave a trail of bite marks over your chest, each one he soothes with a gentle kiss as if to say 'sorry'. "Imagining Gale all alone—" another bite, another kiss. "—Wishing he were half as lucky as me."

He groans as your hands twitch and grip at his hair. Your back arches off the ground, and he runs a slightly calloused palm over the newly exposed area, tracing the curve of your body.

"Astarion," you say so weakly, so needy. He can't help letting a moan slip at how his name sounds coming from your mouth.

You're close, he can feel it. It's the way you tremble, the way you can't get close enough to him— wanting him deeper, harder, more, more— You're a greedy little thing, but he adores it. He adores you. How couldn't he give you anything and everything you want?

He sits up, his lustful stare heavy and thick as he peers down his nose at you.

You lift your chin as his hand wraps around your neck, allowing him all the access he wants. He begins to squeeze, your smaller fingers prying at his grip.

"You're mine," he watches intently as you squirm under his unwavering stare, his face still and emotionless. "Say it to me."

"I'm yours," you say readily, feeling your heart skip a beat when the corners of his mouth almost split into a proud grin.

"Tell me you won't try to run away again." His hold tightens.

"I-I won't. I won't leave you," you choke out. That's what you told him last time and the time before that. Just as your head begins to feel light and your eyelids heavy, your body buzzes and jerks with an orgasm.

He releases you so he can watch your full reaction; how you writhe and reach for him, how the hands scraping at his chest plead to close the distance between your bodies.

Tears slip down the corners of your eyes— maybe from pleasure, maybe not. He could hold you, but something inside tells him no. It's almost as if to serve as punishment for trying to run off.

Believe him, he doesn't want to punish his baby. But sometimes it's necessary.

Once your high dies down and you're left a heaving, exhausted mess, he grabs one of your limp hands and leaves a kiss on each fingertip. "Ooh," his thumb rubs your palm. "That was a good one."

You know very well that you're not finished. Luckily, he's kind enough to get you off first, even when he's upset with you. He's considerate where it counts, of course.

Or maybe he loves how much he can undo you with a second orgasm.

He caresses your face while you catch your breath. You lean into his touch, almost petting yourself. His undead palm is cold yet gentle, and you somehow find comfort in it. Your eyelids flutter closed.

"You're doing so good for me," he praises softly, his tone no louder than a murmur. "You can go a bit longer, can't you?"

He speaks tenderly and sweet, making your pulse beat even faster. "For me, darling?" He asks as if it's even a question— as if he doesn't know the answer.

Your body aches, worn and tired, yet you nod with eagerness. Anything, you think in your euphoric, fucked-out daze, anything for you.

There are times when you can't stand him, when he's the worst person in the world— but those only emphasize the times when he's the only person in the world; times when he makes you feel warm and loved, and so, so good.

Like when he nears his own orgasm and wraps his arms around you so tight, so close. He holds you like you're the dearest thing he's ever had, your skin pressed together like you're afraid to part.

And he fucks you so good you'll forget the nasty things he says and does, if only until the next time. For now, the way his breaths shake and his muscles contract in yearning— in need, is distracting enough.

"Fuck—" a word you'll rarely, if ever, hear him say. Too vulgar for his tastes, except for when he loses his ability to keep his composure. "Fuck," he hisses again as he thrusts into you, almost hard enough to lift your hips from the ground.

Before you know it, his teeth are sinking deep into the flesh of your neck. You gasp loudly, tangling your fingers in his curls. He stifles his moans by lapping up the crimson leaking from your puncture wounds, finishing inside you simultaneously.

Between the sounds of him reaching his climax and the bite, it's enough to push you over the edge a second time. Extra sensitive, your body reacts more violently than before. Your nails claw and tear at his back, leaving scratches through the maze of scars. The newly raised lines disfigure the old, tiny pools of blood rising to the top— a gentle reminder of your presence compared to his preferred methods.

"That's it, there you go," he pulls away breathlessly, making sure to use slow, flat sweeps of his tongue to clean up the mess he's made. The smeared red on your neck is licked away into a mere stain.

Your bodies finally ease into stillness. Exhausted, he rests his weight on top of you. His face nuzzles into the crook of your neck, eyes shut as you hold him.

Your lips press softly to his shoulder, your head lying against his. The heavy exhales between you alternate, your chests rising and falling deeply until they progress into something more controlled.

Though out of each other's lines of sight, you share the same troubled expression, your brows furrowed and lips pulled into frowns.

There's a long, silent moment of recuperation before he mutters into your ear,

“I love you."

[dokidokitsuna]

Tragic Sky

(very long salty rant ahead (+new Alterna backstory, though! ^^;))

So I've always thought Alterna’s backstory, despite being presented as a grand mystery that’s definitely worth fighting through 90% of the missions to uncover in its entirety…was kinda stupid. :/ I’m all for humanity destroying itself for ridiculous reasons, but trying to launch a rocket in an enclosed space?? Are you serious…? o_O How could the Alternans devote such immense amounts of time and energy to something like that without once thinking, “hey, uh…burning metric tons of high-energy fuel inside of our flammable safety dome might be a little unsafe, idk”.

And it shouldn’t even have been necessary! DX I mean, if they were able to build a dome like that in the first place, wouldn’t they have some sort of scaffolding or elevator system they could use to reach the top and just literally climb out if they wanted to leave that badly?? Had Alterna existed for so long that the technology used to create it was lost to time (seeing as it’s implied that Alterna was destroyed by its SECOND generation, I doubt it)...?? Or, did the writers suddenly realize that coming up with pseudo-scientific lore that explains why inkfishes resemble humanity is wholly unnecessary and adds nothing to the themes of Splatoon…but it was too late to rework the concept, so they just finished off the story with whatever-the-heck and called it a day. ¯_(ツ)_/¯ I guess we’ll never know...

Anyway, my version of Alterna’s backstory starts with a similar premise: humans invented crystal thingies that can manifest people’s desires and whatnot…but this alone caused conflict that eventually doomed Alterna. People began to make their own interpretations of other people’s desires, judging and condemning them for how they manifested. They began treating the crystals’ reflections as compulsory measures of morality and worth, rather than simple expressions of the human heart that exist outside of a good/bad binary. Alterna’s leaders envisioned themselves creating a society of ‘pure truth’, free from the destructive power of deceit and subterfuge…all the while ignoring the destructive power of paranoia and exclusion that they immersed themselves in.

Exclusion escalated to oppression, which eventually spawned rebellion: plans were made to create a rocket that would allow a select group of ‘undesirables’ to escape Alterna for the surface world, destroying the integrity of their safe haven in the process. Despite not knowing what was waiting for them out there, they were willing to take the risk in the name of freedom. Eventually, this secret plan was revealed to the public, resulting in Alterna’s first and last civil war. As the Alternans began to fight and kill each other, the crystals were overwhelmed with the unprecedented ferocity of their clashing desires-- “a violent and terrible chain reaction ensued”, and the energy within them exploded outward. The sky dome, still filled with the beautiful blue of the peoples’ wishes for peace and happiness, came crumbling down, raining fire and shrapnel upon Alterna. The still-poisoned air of the outside world flowed freely into the cavern, ensuring the eventual death of anyone who might have survived.

…Then the crystals fell in the ocean, the sea creatures were imbued with human hopes and dreams, yadda yadda, all that’s basically the same as the canon too. And although I still think it’s unneeded (the mere concept of a bygone humanity in Splatoon carries plenty of weight without all this “lore”, imo), at least now the story isn’t stupid!

It speaks to the way humans actually treat each other, and blames their downfall on their long-established bad habits of cruelty and callousness, rather than morally-neutral traits like ambition and pursuit of the unknown (I would never have expected “curiosity killed the cat” as the lesson of the day from Splatoon, of all franchises. o_O This IS the same game that celebrates individual expression and forging your own path, right…?)

Anyway…I’m gonna be using elements of this rewritten backstory and the theme of “manifesting desires” to flesh out the final boss encounter and Agent 3’s subtle character arc. So please look forward to that~

[bored-storyteller]

Warning: slight angst, angst/comfort, blood mentions, Leona licks you, some may not like it so you are warned.

Author's note: It was supposed to come out on his birthday but that's okay, it's a reworking of something I've already written in the past.

Twisted Wonderland, Leona Kingscholar x Reader

Nightmare

Leona always thought that becoming king would be the greatest joy he could ever get in life. To be acclaimed by his people, loved, respected, seen for the wonder that he truly is. All his problems disappear before his merits, finally recognized.

You're proud of him, aren't you?

He looks at you next to him, he sees your smile. You know you will share his privileges with him.

You love him, you told him in many ways.

So why that sharp pain in his stomach, that death throb under his side?

You smile happily as you hold the bloody sword in your hands. His blood, dripping on the ground, on the royal robes, flowing amidst the laughter of jubilation at the deliverance from the dying king. Ruggie celebrates too, and Jack, and Epel, and even the brats of Heartslabyus cheer in victory. You didn't even bother using magic, just a sharp blade was enough.

His hand grips the wound in a vain attempt to survive.

But if he survives, what's he ever going to do with your hate on his shoulders?

Leona closes his eyes, and for a moment he asks for everything to end soon. But then he realizes from his gasp that it doesn't have the traits of death. The pain in his stomach is suddenly gone: he's awake.

He finds himself sitting between the sheets of his bed in the dark room.

All is calm, only the pale moon is watching him. His hand is wet yes, but only with the sweat of his torment.

It's just a nightmare, he tells himelf, and Leona Kingscholar is no longer a puppy afraid of nightmares. But even as he says it, his chest hurts, a primal dread scrapes the edges of his mind.

He feels so alone in that bed. It’s not the solitude that he claims, to which he is accustomed. It's a loneliness that asks him questions that he never wants to answer, it's a real loneliness, not the one he pretends to want.

Tomorrow everything will be easier with the sun, he thinks, yet he is downstairs outside his room.

He feels cold, his bare toes starting to bother him, but he's stronger than that.

His knocking on your door is insistent and arrogant, but effective.

When you open the door, a thousand emotions pass through your eyes: concern and confusion prevail.

He stands there like a grumpy tousled cat, cuddled up and nose wrinkled as your eyes alternate between him and the time on your phone's glowing screen.

“Leona…is it…quarter past three in the morning?”

“It seems.”

He sees you flutter tired eyelids: “What's going on? Did something catch fire? Is anyone sick? Hurt?”

Leona awake during the day is already a special event, but at night it is definitely a sign of misfortune.

But he snorts: “Nothing like that. Will you let me in?”

You smile at him, stepping aside: “Well, it's the practice, right?”

He doesn't moan or huff, he just walks past you looking for the first place he can sit down. Your expression saddens.

"Leona..." You call him softly, you kneel in front of him but his eyes escape you. His ears hang over his head and for some reason his general appearance of him brings you a melancholy that doesn't usually come from him. The boredom and pent-up anger that is usually your issues with him are dissolved into an existential sadness.

“What happens?” You investigate again, as gently as possible. What on earth could have hurt the prince so much as to reduce him like this? And what can you do, little creature, in front of something like that?

Leona remains immersed in silence for a period of time that you cannot quantify, but when his green eyes finally look at yours and you can hear his voice, there is no answer waiting for you: "Do you hate me?"

That question comes out to him in such a strange tone, feeble and wounded, that it scares even him. The big bad lion is not brave enough to face his inner monsters.

You're shocked, you almost think it's a joke, or you're dreaming, because such Leona is unthinkable.

“Do people hang out with those they hate at your home?” You ask with a hint of a smile that just wants to reassure him, even if you aren't sure either. Your hands slide over his, you take them meekly as if they were wet little birds: "Why on earth should I hate you, Leona?"

His mind suddenly comes up with more reasons than are actually real, and at the same time he seeks an answer within your gaze.

Then, suddenly, his eyebrows furrow in tension as he sights something that had gone unnoticed up to that moment.

“What did you do?” He asks as his thumb brushes the edges of what looks like a dry cut on your forehead near your left temple.

“What? What is it?” You ask confused at first, as your hand goes up to his.

“Oh, no, it's nothing!” Then you laugh, relaxing “A small accident during the alchemy lesson a few days ago. Nothing serious."

A few days ago. Nothing serious.

He hadn't noticed. Even though you'd been around him most of the time, he hadn't noticed at all. You had been hurt and he hadn't noticed.

He must have let you down, and he feels humiliated. Someone looked after you so well that you didn't even feel the need to tell him – or maybe he didn't listen to you?

He bites his lower lip in an unconscious punishment, while he feels his swollen heart become heavier in the new awareness of being useless to you.

“Come here.”

His dragging you into his lap feels rough, but you sense that something has changed in him, something that had remained unknown until then.

“Leona?” You call him quietly, but he silences you with a soft whisper. You're not sure what his behavior responds to, whether it's a puppy's need for affection, the care of a lover or a primordial protective instinct that resides in the animal part of him.

His tongue slowly caresses your wound with mechanical and slow movements. They are of no use now, yet they speak of his need to have you near, to be worthy of having you.

It's a prayer for forgiveness he'll never say in words, but what's the need for words?

Your palms rest patiently on his shoulders, and his hand gently holds the opposite side of your face as he continues that primal ritual.

How many hidden sides does your magical prince have?

“You should do this more often.” You tell him, while you hug more to his chest.

“Don't get your hopes up.” He answers you, but in the meantime he feels your body abandoned in his hands, all your need to receive the love of your loved one.

Your hand rests on his neck, caresses him, then goes up his cheek, up to his sensitive ear. Leona meekly bows his head to let himself be cuddled. For once, in the middle of the night, with you, he can afford it.

You still love him, it's a relief. A relief that deserves his invaluable commitment, not to make you leave.

[acerathia]

"You don't want me... I'm broken."

These words escape Katsuki, grating in his throat, tasting like blood, iron, smoke, and fire. And his heart thumps in his ears, these tiny explosions remind him of the life he took, of the exchange, sacrifice, a life for a life, a heart for a heart. His body won't ever truly belong to him anymore, but he learned to deal with that, to drown the pulse with explosions of his own.

That only made him trust himself less, his fingers trembling to hold your hand, too afraid of hurting you, too afraid of scaring you. He isn't anything but a bomb with a broken timer, he himself doesn't know when he's going to blow, his fuse diffusing, slipping from his fingers, catching fire due to every little thing.

So he turns away, runs from the problem for the first time in his miserable life, he can't even bring himself to take your hand in his, as much as he wants to dip his thumb between your knuckles, enjoying your skin against his worn callouses. But he never could have indulged like that, never could have just touched you like he wanted, like he desired. Because who is he going to be if he hurts you? Nothing but a liability, nothing but empty anger, only truly filled with fear, with guilt.

And he's right, he's broken. Nothing about him has been right, he's a messed up patchwork, with pieces not belonging to him, with the wrong pieces, the seams fraying, and there's nothing holding him, nothing saving him.

"So what? I'm gonna spend the rest of my life putting you back together." You shrug, taking his hands in yours, calm fingers against trembling ones, dipping between his knuckles, swiping over the delicate skin.

He can't help himself, he puts your hands against his forehead, hiding his face, appreciating the soft love on his face. The echo of the heart inside his chest accepts this prayer, quieting down, replacing the explosions inside his veins with tranquility, with snow and water.

If he can't take your hands in his, then you may have to take his, to appreciate his callouses against your soft skin. And maybe, maybe everything can be alright, maybe you can simply rework the seams holding him, fixing him, making a beautiful tapestry out of his soul.

[swordoffrivolousthings]

Thoughts about Heroes of Olympus and how it could have been better. pt 2

This time I will get so nitpicky that I will change too much for this series to be considered a reworking of the original. More like a HOO as a source material / hopefully.

So, to the next 9 points! part 1

Diversity in the Camp Half-Blood cabin archetypes, because humans aren't a monolith

Aphrodite cabin? pff, just a bunch of boy-obsessed girlies, am I right? (no, go jump in a lake)

But seriously, humans are not the same. Why has Riordan been stereotyping a lot of the cabins at camp by one (1) characteristic? I don't know.

Cabin 10 (Aphrodite's Cabin): People can be interested in make up, clothes and dating people. But this is a series about demigods whose parents are Greek Gods. Utilise that in your favour. Bring forth Aphrodite Ourania (Heavenly) kids that are morbidly interested (or not) in love in all its forms as a concept, knowing what fulfillment romantic love can bring but not being interested in persuing it. Just the philosophy of it all. Bring Pandemos (common) Aphrodite kids that like people, seeing them go about their day. That gather in public spaces and people watch. Aphrodite Androphonos (Killer of Men) or Aphrodite Tymborychos (Gravedigger) kids that are just as bloodthirsty as some of the Ares kids, violent and petty in their rage, like their mother.

Cabin 5 (Ares' Cabin): (an older gripe of mine, I'll admit) Not all Ares kids need to be violent killing machines. Give me kids of Ares that despite however much they try, they can't seem to come out victorious (because Ares has a track record for getting absolutely obliterated). Bring forth kids that are all bark, no bite, that make so much noise with their arrogance, but it is mostly a front. ("Magnanimous, unconquered, boisterous Ares, in darts rejoicing, and in bloody wars", Orphic Hymn 65 to Ares (trans. Taylor) ) Ares kids that lead wars more on the political, intangible side of things. Slippery little shits that are just about invincible when turning a situation in their favour with their words.

Cabin 11 (Hermes' Cabin): Trickster archetype characters can be fun and enjoyable, but when you have a cabin full of them it gets boring. Hermes kids that are intersted in animals, specificly cattle, and that help in the CHB stables. Camp Half-Blood has milk now, too! Hermes kids that interested in death, the way to the Underworld, whose souls follow in the steps of their father and guide people when lost in the realm of Hades. Hermes kids that are honorable merchants, that trade without stealing. They are the ones that try to bring their more kleptomaniac siblings into line, but rarely succeed.

2. Bring the war with Gaia on a larger scale, magnify it by 1000 times over

Gaia wants to rid the world of humans so nature could heal. Let her bring upon cities terribly powerful earthquakes (magnitude 6.8 and higher). Make them frequent, frighteningly so. Let a horrifying amount of magnitude 8.0 or greater hit major cities all around the world.

Have Gaia fuck around with tectonic plates in the oceans, make her start tsunamis. Have those be frighteningly big, too. Drive the people into the mountains, further inland, make them evacuate islands or peninsulas and drive up population in the cities. Than hit those cities with earthquakes.

Forest fires. A lot of them. Dry places around the world exist. Start a fire. See how fast it becomes an inferno. Light California and Florida and Texas on fire. Let the characters that are from there (i.e. Jason, Hazel and Frank who care about Camp Jupiter, Will Solace) be horrified at what is happening. Have them react.

Another hit, because humanity can bare some more punches, would be to introduce a plague to the main crops like seeds, rice, potatoes, and drive the production of food down. Let food be a concern, see how long the billions of people can go without food being produced all the time.

Volcanoes. Just, active volcanoes. Spitting, gurgling, bubbling, always on the edge of eruption.

Have agrarian gods ally with Gaia. See how much they can fuck up with humans: Aristaeus (bee-keeping, cheese-making, herding), Britomartis (nets made for hunting, fishing, fowling).

Do not be afraid to put the fear of nature in people. Make the main seven (7) realise just how much power and influence Gaia has. Raise the stakes.

3. The gods have gone mad with pain, what are the effects

It is established that the gods kept the Greeks and Romans apart because of many things. One of them is because the two parts that compose the gods attack each other.

Now there are mad gods roaming the world. Nature would be even more affected than what Gaia is already doing.

Zeus/Jupiter would make storms and thunderstorms out of the blue, ravage the world. Tornadoes, erratic air flow, no air flow, so much rain the earth can't absorb it. Ozone layer? something is certainly happening to it.

Poseidon/Neptune would mess up the currents, fuck over the tides and create tides so big that they rival tsunamis. Coral reefs, they start to die, powerful surface currents, too many riptides, the salinity drops. Small scale earthquakes.

Artemis/Diana and Apollo/Phoebus, moon and sun? Well, imagine just how fucked up would it be for the day to suddenly last eight (8) hours and the rest of sixteen (16) to be night, or go even further. One (1) hour of daylight, twenty three (23) of night. Or change from one minute to another. Guess we have a problem huh.

The worst of it. There is no safe space. Apollo and Artemis can't retreat to Delos because half of them is repulsed by that place. No retirement and riding out the chaos until the Greeks and Romans work it out.

That means no godly help, but also no godly trouble, from anyone. The demigods are sailing blind into the unknown. Have the world border apocalyptic.

4. Tartarus and worldbuilding hellish landscapes

The Pit is the place where the monsters get reborn. The body of a literal god. Have the threat of him waking be there from the beginning. The way the ground moves with his every breath, the veins running deep with an almost ichor, but black and molten.

Make the air, beside being toxic, give other side effects. Damaged lungs, weakened bones, infections from the smallest cut. Not only it smells like the worst memories of whoever is unlucky enough to fall, but it preys on hem. Kind of like with Melinoe. Percy sees Gabe out of the corner of his eye, feels Luke's heavy gaze on his back. He turns around but there is nothing.

Have Annabeth feel the blood on her knees from when she knelt beside Luke's dying form/corpse. Let her hear Thalia's last yell towards the monsters that were hunting them when she died, echoing with Tartarus' every breath.

There is no water down there, and if there is, it is not safe. Have them suffer from dehydration, hunger, lack of sleep. Indulging in such things could mean death, so they don't.

Have the monsters, even half formed, emerge from their bubble of remaking and hunt them down.

Nico hadn't been safe either, but for him it was only a few days, not weeks. But he still hears Bianca's voice in his mind, even when escaped, that maybe he should have gone on the quest in TTC and have died. Because he had always been the annoying, pestering little brother and the world would've been better off without him.

Tartarus is weakness and pain and poison. It will haunt everyone that survives it, long after they've escaped.

5. Camp Half-Blood vs Camp Jupiter

The start of the conflict is dumb, and its resolution is even dumber. For this war to start, a minor, needless war, lets change some things. After the quest to find Thanatos/Mors in SON, a year goes by. Let Percy become integrated in the Camp Jupiter dynamics, have him learn the ins and outs of the place. Build trust and respect. Hell, have Octavian come to respect Percy.

Then the Argo II lands. Annabeth, instead of staying put and listening to the introductions Reyna makes, (which means being respectful to the leaders of the place you are currently in, those who are more important than you and your feelings) jumps at Percy. She judo-flips him when he is not expecting that. In what way could this be perceived by people that are wary of battle (the veterans) and kids that are out for blood, as kids are? As assault.

This sets the Romans from the start on the wrong side of the conflict. It does not matter they have a larger objective to achieve. Their pride, their praetors, both of them, were disregarded from their positions of power. One of them was assaulted. (and please do think of this situation objectively here, please) (According to legends among the Romans, every civil war between the Greeks and the Romans was started by children of Athena / from the Athena Parthenos PJO wiki <- just found this. wouldn't this be funny if it's true? Well, I'm making it true.)

This is a very strong basis for mistrust for the Greeks. It doesn't matter in that moment that Percy is Greek too, because he was practically adopted as a honorary Roman.

Annabeth continues to try and gaslight Octavian. And this time the Romans (Reyna and the rest) don't fall for it. It is manipulation, however small or seemingly insignificant. That can't be trusted.

But Percy's reaction, his endorsement doesn't help either. He may love Annabeth, but him also gaslighting Octavian to cover for her prophecy, is not ok. This is the stepping stone for the Romans losing their faith in him.

Jason? Well, he was taken from them and made Greek, which translates to do not trust, now. This is a logical conclusion to add to the fact that Leo's body is stolen and used to set fire to New Rome, potentially harming civilians, innocents.

And then, the anger would naturally translate to seeing Camp Half-Blood as a threat and wanting to eliminate that threat before it bites them in the ass. So the Romans do what Romans do best: preventive defense/warfare, what they used to conquer half the known world.

I'll admit that I've not read the finale of Blood of Olympus recently, but the Athena Parthenos helps with nothing. more about it in n. 8.

6. Death is chained, but death still affects things

Death is the finale. So why can people come back from the dead without something having changed about them? Especially when they need to make their own way back, which doesn't make sense but ok. (like, how would they find the places that lead back to the surface?)

So, have those that have come back to life be uncanny, or too canny.

Example a) Hazel - she is a daughter of Pluto. Have her appearance be just a little off, more god than human. More corpse than alive. Riordan gave her gold eyes? Ok, so have them not be natural, but a result of being dead for 70(?) years. She has adopted some gold in her time as dead, maybe because she is a daughter of Pluto and his domain is also wealth.

Example b) Jason - he is killed by Hera's true form, but comes back soon after. Have him see just a little too much, a bite too well. Things that the Mist covers even for other demigods. Have his eyes emit a low glow in the dark. Or when it becomes dark, have his eyes spark like lightning, quick, than disappear.

Just, make dying important, because it changes you. Otherwise it is just cheap.

7. Roman on Roman, Greek on Greek, Greek on Roman, Roman on Greek

Gaia's conflict is more than just black and white. Have demigods and humans that can see through the Mist want to help her. A majority of Satyrs and dryads and nymphs would join her.

Have demigods become spies for Gaia (she doesn't want then, nor need them but she will allow them to exist, for now) to learn how the others plan to retaliate. What they think that they can do against a primordial goddess.

This happens in both camps. And the spies are not subtle about it, because it is a cause worth dying for. This leads to paranoia in both camps.

It makes the conflict not only Greek vs Roman, demigods vs Gaia, but also family against family, friend against friend.

Drive the fact that people are willing to do what they think is right, and die for it, as deep as bone. Make the theme of the conflict (which I hope is clear that is governments/associations/powerful individuals that don't believe in climate change vs. what the fuck is actually going on, especially with this inner conflict in both camps)

8. Athena Parthenos and the inefficacy of it all

Why is the Athena Parthenos, a single statue that is tied to Athena only, the catalyst that offers the gods peace, rids away the madness.

The Athena Parthenos is a symbol of Athena's pride, and the fact that the Romans where smart enough to hit where it hurts most. Why would it be the thing that heals the rift between the gods? After all, the Greek and Roman gods are two being that share the same 'body'/spirit/are tied together inexplicably. And the two (2) parts hate each other.

I just don't see why it would affect the other gods. Or even Athena. This is what the wiki has to say: "[...]  the capture of the Parthenos was seen as an act of belittlement to Athena, and the source of the seemingly eternal conflict between Greek and Roman demigods" from the Athena Parthenos wiki. Why is it the source?? The Romans and the Greeks have been fighting for other reasons, not some statue. That was just a war prize for the Romans, if we were to take this logically.

The Romans emulated Greek culture and religion, which I guess is why the Greek gods started to become Roman. It doesn't explain why it heals the gods.

Why would the gods even need to be healed? They seem to be aware that it is the way it is. They tried to keep the Greeks and Romans apart because they knew this would happen to them. (or my guess, in other words)(don't get me started on the fact that Riordan chose to ignore that Minerva also has warfare and strategy domains in Roman mythology, all for a subplot badly executed, in my opinion)

9. War ends, but scars remain

I will admit now, I don't know how to work out a satisfactory conclusion to the original HOO and the version I've been cooking. I don't. I think that BOO was badly plotted and it would take a total remake for me to get something useful out of it.

But this isn't about how I would tie together the ending. I want to talk about the aftermath of war, taking into consideration, this time, both the original and what I've been working up to.

Aftermath in the original HOO - the Romans just leave? Like there is no meeting that I can remember that the leaders had. Just Reyna and Piper talking about feelings (not judging, but not the feelings I wanted discussed) and then it's Leo's funeral. I say that some animosity should have still remained, because these guys had killed some enemy soldiers. Lives had been lost, even if the 'rift ' is healed, there should still be some hard feelings. I would suggest the Romans not opening up New Rome, and subsequently the university they have there. Because they can be petty while still not actively at war with the Greeks. Like, this is the best I can do in terms of scars and consequences.

Aftermath in this HOO thought experiment - Well, the world is shit. Hundreds of thousands, if not millions of humans, have died horrifically. Society will need to deal with this trauma, that is for sure. But focusing on the demigod side of things; most demigods would be dead, lets be serious. Killed by the civil war or by each other because of paranoia. They still need to be separated, because the hatred is still there, and the gods can't help. So who would need to do some damage control? Our Six, of which, preferably, only three (3) are still alive. The pain is deep and the wounds are raw, and Percy, whom I think we all know has the luck and wits to survive despite it all will, be fed with the entire situation. Meaning that he would most likely abandon the godly world and go back to his family. Try to live a normal life, or not. Hazel and Frank will not be allowed back in New Rome, because they are traitors, and the Greeks will not have them because they are Roman. The same will go for Percy, also - Romans will not take him back, and the Greeks see him as too Roman. Maybe only Piper, if she survives, will be allowed back in Camp Half-Blood, but that depends. And maybe the shit with Gaia isn't done, because you can't kill gods.

So, uh, 18 points of what I would change in HOO later, I find that I haven't run out. Which is either terrifying or absolutely insane seeing how well the original series was written and just how half-assed this one is. Like, Riordan, HOO was clearly a way to keep making money and not a passion project. And I don't mean it in the mean way, because it had good moments and interesting ideas, but they were poorly executed. Or I needed to read between the lines to see the subtext he was to cowardly to include outright. (not that I'm saying I could do better beside a published author)

Hope you enjoyed my ramblings.

[emelinstriker]

Red Son ♡ Parental Guidance Pt.2

Demon Bull King be like: "If I had a nickel for everytime I lost my son's diaper, I'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice."

Just like the first part, Reader does exist in here, but the story revolves more around Red Son and your entire family chaos as a whole.

♤ Part 1

ⓘ Reader is FEMALE; (C/N) = Child's Name

♡ ~ Fluff ~ ♡

Finally, after an agonizingly long time of giving birth, the baby was finally in your arms. Red Son was anxiously holding your hand so tightly just half an hour prior, but now he was gently holding onto you and your child with a smile. He gave your temple a kiss while brushing his thumb over your hand, which was securely helping your arm hold up the baby that was previously crying.

"He looks so much like me when I was this small", he commented softly, making you huff in amusement.

"Well, do you wanna hold him?" 

His eyes lit up as his gaze met yours with a smile. That was enough of an answer for you to carefully hand your son over to your husband. You also told him how to hold the baby correctly so it doesn't get hurt or become uncomfortable. It didn't take long for tears to gather in his eyes as he gently held onto your child while his gaze softened at the sleeping potato. "Hello, little flame..."

And finally, all was at peace...

...

...Actually, that would be a lie.

Okay, Red Son did sign up for this when he decided to have a child with you. From the constant waking up in the nights to the multiple diaper changes and random vomit. He knew it would happen, and he was mentally prepared at the thought... But now he was having seconds thoughts on if he was actually prepared. Especially when it turns out his baby could sneeze fire.

Of all the scenarios he had prepared the nursery for, a fire-sneezing baby was not on his list. He did not account for the possibility that the baby could possess fire abilities before it even reached the two-months-mark. Hell, he had a plan for if the child somehow ended up inheriting part of the Samadhi Fire! Good thing he did not. You both were suspecting that your son either didn't have it or he has such a small amount that it wasn't a threat to himself or others.

That did not mean that he wasn't a threat to the furniture. Grandpa DBK once came in to check on the little one, only to watch in horror as the crib was set ablaze in front of his eyes. The baby was absolutely fine and was giggling among the flames like a tiny pyromaniac, don't worry.

That was definitely a child of the Demon Bull Family, no doubt about it.

However, due to the discovery of the baby already being this much of a tiny menace, you reluctantly let your husband rework the nursery to ensure such fire could not expand. And while the room was under maintenance, you were tasked with baby duty for probably the entire day. Honestly, you didn't really mind because your mother-in-law was there to help you out. After all, she and her husband were absolutely smitten by the little flaming menace to society. Princess Iron Fan's experience in the field of motherhood was both a great help and gave a lot of content to talk about for when you're bored.

"You would not believe how destructive Red Son was as a child", she commented as he sipped on her tea. Meanwhile you were rocking the baby in your arms, lulling it further into sleep. Your talk with the little one's grandma was quite boring in his point of view. She giggled into her hand.

"Your own child is pretty tame compared to what he managed to do. Then again, my husband wasn't helping the situation either." She then side-eyed the Demon Bull King, who was awkwardly trying to eat from his plate. Honestly, having his son here right now would've been better... at least then his wife wouldn't try to solely pick on him for embarrassing memories. Unfortunately, Red Son couldn't attend dinner this time due to the nursery incident. So DBK had to survive this on his own.

He swallowed the food he just munched on before huffing, "I personally don't think I was that bad in raising him."

"You set the kitchen on fire-"

"That was one time!"

"But the bottle itself was covered in flames four times. Not to mention the diaper incident that somehow happened twice-"

"I'm telling you, the smell came from every wall! How was I supposed to know he hid them on the ceiling??"

You blinked in confusion, "I- Wait, he managed to hide two used diapers as a baby? On the ceiling?" Princess Iron Fan nodded with an amused hum. Your gaze lowered itself onto your own baby. Guess you had to be prepared for even more chaotic moments like that potentially happening. As if the fires (C/N) accidentally created weren't bad enough.

"Well, was there anything else that happened between the two of them?" You were simply curious.

The Demon Bull King suddenly started to eat a lot quicker, to the point where he was trying to eat everything off the plate at the same time, practically inhaling it all to escape this conversation.

His wife laughed, sending her husband a taunting grin, "Of course! Let me tell you all about it~"

DBK then apparently deemed his attempt to escape not fast enough and simply ate the plate as a whole. He then excused himself from the dinner table and speedwalked off to who knows where with long, heavy steps.

You and his wife stared at his quick exit from the scene. While you were absolutely baffled that he just swallowed the entire plate, his wife couldn't hold in her laughter anymore.

And while Princess Iron Fan was telling you more embarrassing stories about her husband's best fails at being a parent, the Demon Bull King found Red Son in the kitchen. He seemed rather annoyed at something, so his father had to ask, "Is something the matter?"

Startled, his son almost dropped the bottle he was holding. Red Son sighed in relief when he realized it was only his father. "No, no. Everything's fine. I fixed up the nursery and wanted to get a newly filled bottle before telling (Y/N) it's ready. Just...", he responded as he glanced back down at the bottle, "I don't think I'm doing this right."

His father crossed his arms, leaning against the tall doorframe. "Do you perhaps need some help, son?"

The shorter bull demon scratched his head at this awkward situation. "...I wouldn't mind some help, actually. My attempts were a little... embarrassing, to say the least."

"It certainly couldn't have been that bad! It's simply about filling the bottle and heating it up."

"That's the problem, father. You see...", he said rather timidly before opening a cabinet and pulling out two more baby bottles that looked burnt. The Demon Bull King repeatedly blinked in shock, not believing what he was seeing. Red Son on the other hand was blushing in embarrassment, placing the bottles onto the counter before hiding his face in his hands, groaning out his frustration to the world.

"I'm a failure of a father...", his muffled voice commented from behind his hands.

To his surprise, his own father laughed. Red Son gave him an offended look, "Are you laughing at my misery?"

The giant bull wiped away a single tear from his eye before taking a deep breath to calm down a little. "Seems like we're not so different after all!" Now it was his son's turn to be stunned into silence. "I honestly thought you would have less problems than me with this!"

"What-" "Haha! Anyway, heh, let me show you how your mother taught me how to heat it up properly..." The bigger demon then approached the counter with the bottles and filled the clean one that wasn't burnt with milk from the carton. "I'm guessing you were struggling with the heating process, yes?" Red Son awkwardly nodded at his father's observations. "And I'm guessing you tried heating it up with your own fire." Again, his son nodded.

"You're not supposed to heat it up yourself. We have a microwave for a reason", Demon Bull King added with an amused smirk. "Your own flames won't be able to safely keep the bottle intact while increasing the temperature at a consistent rate. Here-" He then placed the bottle in the microwave, closing its door before setting the timer and starting it up. The demon shrugged, "Now you wait. It's as simple as that."

Red Son looked at him dumbfounded before his frustration seemed to take over again. "Why the fuck didn't I think of that?? UGH! I'M SO STUPID! THIS IS SO STUPID!" His hair started to flare up at his rage as he clenched his fists.

"Do you truly believe having a child with your wife is stupid?"

His father's question brought him back down again. Calming him, but also catching him a little off-guard. "W- What? No... No, of course not! I love my child!"

Demon Bull King huffed with a smile, "Well, then you need to learn and adapt to your child's needs to raise him well. It might be annoying keeping up with it all, but it will help his life improve a lot." He followed up on his words by picking up one of the burnt bottles, inspecting it. "Don't forget, you agreed on having a child with (Y/N). And as part of that agreement, your child is your responsibility too." His eyes then glanced at the shorter demon's surprised expression. Red Son did not consider that his father could give him advice just like his mother.

His thoughts were cut off when the microwave suddenly beeped, indicating that the bottle was now heated. He opened the door and to no one's surprise, the bottle was still fully intact and the milk was now warm. And despite the heat it held within, he had no problem grasping the bottle with his bare hand and closing the microwave once more. He then gave his father a very small bow with his head, "Thank you for your help, father."

The Demon Bull King chuckled, lightly patting his son on his head, "You better move along now and tell your wife about the nursery. Pretty sure she wants to drop off the baby back in the crib aga-"

K A B O O M

Both demons froze in shock, startled at the sudden explosion. Thinking they were under attack, they quickly made their way back to their wives in a hurry. Until they heard your distressed, but also oddly calm voice coming from the dining hall.

"Um- I- I didn't know he could do that! I'm so sorry!"

"It's all good, dear- We, uh, can just fix it right back up! Don't worry about it!" Princess Iron Fan responded, sounding quite concerned about the situation.

Both men entered the dining hall and watched as there was now a giant hole in the wall. Its borders as well as part of the debris were engulfed by flames. You and PIF didn't seem harmed, just extremely shocked at what you two just witnessed. Meanwhile little (C/N) was giggling again, with the same giggle from the time he set the crib on fire in front of his grandpa.

"...Are you sure I'm not a failure of a father?" Red Son asked rhetorically, his hands gesturing towards the scene with an expression that could only be read as 'Bruh'. Demon Bully King couldn't help but stare at the giant hole in the wall as a confused Bull Clone walked by on the other side.

Turns out your child could not only sneeze fire, but also create a stronger version of it that acts like a fiery bullet explosion. 'Huh, parenthood turns out be more and more fun with each day', you thought somewhat sarcastically, suddenly becoming more tired by the second as you dropped off your adrenaline. Your husband ended up helping you feed the bottle to the baby since he noticed how much more tired you looked.

In the meantime, Princess Iron Fan told both bull demons about what happened and how you and Red Son should be careful with your child's newfound abilities. The fact that he already possessed such powers within the first month was concerning.

It didn't take long for MK's gang to get permission to visit once your baby was properly settled into your home. The Demon Bull Family was a little bit wary about the gang's visits at first, but they quickly got used to their presence. Mainly because they weren't usually bothering the two of them in the first place. They were rather out to bother you, your husband and your little flame.

You never even met your husband's friends before their visits, so you were glad they all were kind and seemed to be enamored by your child. Red Son made sure to tell them beforehand about the potential fire sneezes that can happen. He also gave them other general warnings of abilities you two picked up on while observing the little one.

But with that being said, the gang had a lot of fun interacting with the kid. And it was quite surprising to see him not freaking out over all the attention he was being given. Well, for the most part... He did cry during their first visit due to MK and Mei's constant screaming. However, after telling them to be quiet around the baby, things seemed to be a lot more at peace with them.

Tang was extremely curious about the child's early powers while Pigsy was seen smiling a lot more around the baby. Sandy usually brought gifts with each visit, especially non-flammable, or at least highly fire resistant toys for the baby.

And Wukong was... on edge. At first, at least.

Of course he congratulated you two and also found the baby adorable. But after you told him about the chaotic incidents the child has caused... He was a bit cautious. Not for his safety, but for your and the gang's safety... Also the universe's, but Red Son and DBK already told him about how your child does not seem to possess the same type of power as the Samadhi Fire. At least that bit of information made the Monkey King loosen up enough to enjoy his stay around the child more.

In general, things were getting a lot more interesting for your family. Especially because Red Son suggested having another child in the future once you got your current child's powers under control.

Because apparently one fire-sneezing baby is not enough.

> Masterlist <

[silentglassbreak]

Fragmented

Noah Sebastian x OFC

Alright, back to our regularly scheduled programming. Thank you all for being patient with me. We need to develop this plot, so let's all buckle up.

Warnings: Nothing wild here. Testosterone being tossed around.

+It goes without saying. This is a work of fiction. My words are mine. Plagiarism is a crime.

Taglist: @flowery-mess @lma1986 @myownthoughts12 @poisongirl616 @missduffsblog @reidsblessing @malerieee @jilliemiw86 @thisbicc @xx-like-a-villian-xx @diabolicdiatonics

Part 9 - First Time

One Month Later

Normal is a relative term, isn’t it? By definition, it means conforming to a standard. Therefore, my life was getting into a sense of normalcy, as I was forcing it to.

I couldn’t handle the heartbreak anymore. It was too painful to allow myself to continue to sulk. Every time she left, anytime we said goodbye, my soul folded in on itself more and more. Is it going to stop hurting just because I want it to? No. Can I allow myself to move on? I think so.

One hundred and eighteen days since she ended things. My world fell apart, but I only have to wait so long before I start trying to put it back together. I’m encouraged to move forward. I’m told to let myself heal. And I think maybe it’s time.

Thirty-six days since Mileena and I recovered from the stomach flu, and our safe bubble was burst. We haven’t kissed, fucked, or had any above mildly flirtatious contact since.

We’re still close, and we still talk every day - sometimes for hours, but I’ve put up a silent barrier between us. Continuing to allow the physical affection was only making it harder for both of us. And I’ve learned, through months of dealing with this, that she has little to no control.

She’s still seeing Justin, which stings in ways I can’t even begin to explain, but I’ve swallowed it. Leena seems to have taken to him, which makes me happy. Although I never expected to feel that way, I do. Seeing her smile, and seeing her joy has brought a sense of calm to my soul, even if I’m not the person lighting that fire inside her.

Maybe I’m moving on.

Today, I was awake early, driving to the guys’ place, anxious and excited all at once.

Today was album completion day. After hours on hours of sitting with Jolly in the studio, rewriting lyrics, re-recording vocals, and reworking the instrumentals, it was finally ready.

Today, at 9AM, the album was due to Sumerian. We were going to send it at 8AM, the email already drafted and all of the files attached. It was a big moment, and we were ecstatic. The amount of work that had gone into this album made Death of Peace of Mind look like child’s play. We were all so ready to be moving to the next stage - preparing for release.

I pulled into the driveway, and noticed the amount of vehicles. I, clearly, wasn’t the only one there.

Just inside the front door, I kicked my boots off and made my way toward the living room, already hearing many conversations ongoing. Just inside the foyer, I could see Nick and Laura, enthralled in whatever conversation they were having. Jolly was sitting on the couch, eyes glued to the screen of his laptop, surely checking the email again to make sure all of the attachments were sound, and nothing had been forgotten.

In the back corner of the room, Folio stood by the fireplace, mid-conversation with Leena, who was holding Addison on her hip.

“Well, hello family!”

Everyone’s eyes flashed to me, smiles breaking out on everyone’s faces.

“There he is!” Nick walked over and clapped my shoulder. “Cant believe you’re the last one here!”

I shook my head. “Traffic was rough this morning.”

I gave him and Laura welcoming hugs, and made my way over to Leena and Addison.

“There’s my girls.” I gave Mileena a one-armed hug, and took Addie from her, squeezing her tight.

“Are you excited?” Leena was beaming at me, something like pride on her face.

“Excited and anxious. I’ll be glad once it’s out of our hands.”

Folio snorted next to me. “Yeah, so you can’t fuck with it anymore.”

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head. “It’s not fucking with it. It’s perfecting.”

He reached over, slipping Addie from my arms. “Well, go check on Jolly. He hasn’t spoken in twenty minutes.”

I padded over to the couch and flopped down. “All good here?”

He nodded, reopening the email. “I think so. Everything’s working. Cover art and back art is there. Lyric docs are attached. I think we’re all set. Bryan is going to forward in the pictures for the social media announcements. And Matt’s working on the details for the release party already.”

I nodded. “We don’t know how long?”

Jolly shrugged. “Three months, maybe? Slaughter is releasing their album next month, but then Alec told me it’s pretty clear until November. We’re likely shooting for a fall release.”

“Oh sweet. We can start touring in spring, maybe?”

Jolly smiled and leaned back. “I fucking hope so man. We’ve been getting a lot of heat for not hitting Australia on the last tour. Or Asia.”

“Maybe we start there?”

I could feel eyes burning into the side of my head, Mileena standing close enough to hear our conversation, but I ignored them.

“Festival season is in the spring and summer, so maybe we start with that? And work our way out?”

I huffed, and let my eyes drift over to Leena, who had a sad expression on her face that she wasn’t hiding well. “We’ll let Matt and Lana work it out.”

“Two minutes, guys.” Nick called from across the coffee table.

Folio came and plopped next to me. Nick sat next to Jolly, Laura perched on one of his knees. Leena sat, Addie in her lap, on the arm of the couch.

Jolly’s finger hovered over the ‘Send’ button, and we all held our breath.

“As always, I would like to just say, you guys are the best. We have worked our asses off for this, and if we receive even half of the success as Death of Peace of Mind, we’re lucky. We’re lucky to do what we love, and do it well.” I spoke to the entire room. To my brothers.

“Let’s fucking do this!” Folio announced, and the clock struck 8:30, Jolly clicking the mouse.

A second of silence fell over us, until the confirmation that it was sent popped on the screen.

We all broke out in celebratory hollers and clapping.

“Fuck yeah! We fucking did it!” Nick exclaimed, patting Jolly’s shoulder.

“You guys are awesome, you know that?” Laura smiled at us all.

“We need to celebrate!” Folio stood up suddenly, all of our eyes snapping up to him. “Let’s call Matt, Bryan, Lana, and Davis, and let’s go fucking celebrate!”

“Uh, dude…it’s not even 9AM…” I was smirking at him.

“It doesn’t have to be a party.” He stopped, thinking for a moment. “Let’s go ride fucking roller coasters!”

Nick, Jolly, and myself all stood up, affirming our excitement at once.

“That’s fucking awesome! Let’s do it!” Nick was still holding onto Laura. “You’ll come?”

She smiled wide. “Blocked my whole day for you, babe. I’m down.”

Nick glanced at Leena. “You too?”

She seemed to hesitate, her eyes looking over to me. “I, uh, might need to pass.” She chewed her lip. “Addie and I had plans today.”

“So…cancel them?” Jolly interjected.

“We were supposed to meet with Justin.”

I scoffed. “So bring him?” Her eyes widened in surprise at me. Valid, given I was mildly surprised at myself as well. “Unless, of course, he’s too scared…”

-

The drive to Knott's Berry Farm was quicker than I expected. Folio and I rode in my truck with Addison, Nick and Laura were in her car, Bryan and Matt were picking up Davis and Lana, and Mileena would be meeting us in about an hour after she picked up Justin. As we turned right off of La Palma onto Beach Boulevard, the traffic came to a dead stop. The turn-in to Knott's toward the parking lot was packed.

"Is something going on today?"

I shrugged. "No idea. We got here early, so I didn't think it would be too packed for a Thursday." I glanced at the dash. "It's only noon."

He rolled his window down, leaning his body out of the window, and waving at a security guard who was directing traffic.

"Hey," The guard walked over to my car. "is there a reason it's so busy?"

The guard stood with his hands on his belt, and glanced down to the line of cars.

"The concert today. It doesn't start until 6, but folks want to get in early."

Folio raised an eyebrow, dropping back into the vehicle. "Concert?" He pulled his phone out and opened his browser. After a moment of searching, he smiled. "Oh dope, dude! There's three bands playing today!"

I was pulling toward the parking lot now, waiting for my turn to pay at the stall. "Which ones?"

"Skillet, Daughtry, and Lifehouse."

I nodded in surprise. "That's fucking cool, man. We picked a good day to come."

Once we had all parked, I was pushing the stroller with Addison squealing excitedly. We all talked about which rides we were hitting first.

"Dude, we can't just start with the biggest ones. We've got to warm up." Nick was trying to reason with Folio, who looked as though he was crawling right out of his skin.

"Bro, I am riding the Xcelerator first, and you can't fucking stop me."

I chuckled. "I'm so in on that, man."

Laura reached for the stroller, taking it from me easily. "That's fine. You and Folio go get your adrenaline rush. Addie and I will be waiting for Leena in Camp Snoopy."

I bent down to kiss Addie's nose as she munched on her cotton candy, making an absolute mess. "You be good for Auntie, baby girl."

She blew a bubble in response.

Folio and I practically sprinted to the line for the roller coaster, only being a few dozen people back. He immediately hopped up onto the railing, smiling wide.

"So excited. I haven't been here since I was a kid."

I nodded. "Leena and I came like...three months after we met? She likes to act like she loves roller coasters, but in reality, she only rides the mellow ones."

He giggled. "She always talks such a big game, dude."

"Fucking honestly. She's as human as the rest of us, contrary to popular belief."

He nodded, jumping down to move with the line. "You going to be good with her bringing Justin?"

I perused this a moment. "I think so. I've had some time to adjust."

He looked at me suspiciously. "Have you been adjusting? You and Leena seem to be pretty...I don't know...weird?"

Leaning against the rail, I crossed my arms and looked at him. "Weird like how?"

"Well, let's see," Folio turned to face his body toward me. "you break up, when clearly neither of you wanted to do that. You both get majorly depressed for a while. Then you have an outburst at the 4th party, where you both disappear for half an hour." He raised his eyebrow suspiciously. "Then you flirt all the time, and both get sick at the same time, hiding out for three days together, where neither of you will talk about what happened." I chewed on my bottom lip. "Now you guys just stare longingly at each other from across rooms, and act like everything's okay." We moved forward with the line.

"Oh, and not to mention that she has a boyfriend."

Thanks for that, Folio.

"Doesn't seem very adjusted."

I scoffed. "Well, I didn't realize I came today to get attacked, but alright."

He chuckled at me, smacking my shoulder. "I'm just asking. I'm not sure any of us really get why you two aren't just...together...."

I shrugged, then. "That was her decision."

He cocked his head. "But why?"

I sighed hard, arms still crossed. "She can't handle it, dude. The," I waved my hand around us. "Bad Omens, rock and roll, touring thing."

Folio looked interested. "No?"

Shaking my head, I noticed we were getting closer to the front. "Nope. And that's my life."

"Can't her and Addison come on tour?"

"Man, I wish. I've even tried to convince her too, but having a toddler on a tour bus wouldn't work, and even I know that."

He looked disappointed. "Fuck, man."

"Yeah, I know." Huffing out a weak laugh, I rubbed the back of my neck. "I even offered to quit. Just write and produce so I wouldn't have to tour."

"You couldn't do that, dude. You love this shit."

I nodded, and looked directly at him. "I know, but I love them more."

Folio and I were walking over to Camp Snoopy, where everyone had convened after riding their respective rides. I caught a glimpse of Mileena sat at a picnic table, surrounded by everyone, feeding Addison in the stroller. Before I even reached the group, I noticed it.

Everyone was speaking, laughing together. Justin was stood talking to Davis, talking about something with his hands, and Davis was definitely into the story. The entire group was engaged in some form of conversation, looking excited and lighthearted. Everyone, except Mileena.

She was handing Addison her snacks, back turned to the group, and a look of frustration on her face.

We approached them, everyone turning their attention to us.

"How was it?" Nick chirped up from behind Laura.

"Fucking rush. So much fun." Folio responded, coming to sit next to Leena, and grabbing the snacks from her. Leena smiled at him as he started talking to Addie, handing her the puffs from the bag. If anyone bonded with the baby the most, to everyone's surprise, it was Folio.

I stepped over to stand in front of Leena, staring down at her. I lowered my eyes so I was looking directly at her. I gave her the look; the one that she knew asked if she was alright. She just pursed her lips, and nodded curtly.

I glanced back over to where Justin was still talking to Davis, Jolly now having joined the conversation.

I smiled down at Leena. "Want to come with me to grab a soda?"

Her eyes drifted over to Justin, who was paying her no mind, and stood up.

"You okay with her for a minute?" Folio just nodded to her in response.

She followed behind me as I made my way toward the Calico Ghost Town, and the snack shops they had nearby. We joined the long line, and I turned to look at her.

"What's going on?"

She sighed. "Nothing, just wanted to be here a lot sooner."

"Everything okay with you two?"

She looked at me, her eyes hesitant, but I could see that she wanted to tell me.

I held my hands up. "Safe space, here."

Leaning her head back, she groaned. "He's irritating me."

"How so?"

"He's pissed that I wanted to come here. We had plans to get lunch, and take Addie to the park. I explained that today was a big deal, but he told me he didn't see why I had to come."

I raised an eyebrow. "Ah, okay. Makes sense."

"No, it doesn't. He knows that I'm close with all of the guys, not just you. But he still gets so fucking weird about it." Her voice was full of annoyance, which amused me.

"I mean..." I calculated my words. "Can you blame the guy?"

Her head snapped toward me. "What?"

Laughing, I took a step away from her. "Leena, I am your ex. We spend an awful lot of time together."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "We have a kid together, Noah."

I nodded. "I get that. I'm just saying, he probably has pretty good reason to be skeptical."

She huffed, and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I know. I just," Taking a slow breath, she calmed herself. "if him and I are going to make it work, he's going to have to understand. You guys are my family."

I let my arms reach for her, pulling her into a comfortable hug. "I know. And if he really likes you, he'll figure it out."

The day passed comfortably, the warm sun baking us while we waited in lines, played games, and ate funnel cakes. Mileena passed on the bigger coasters, as I had expected. Laura and I rode the Jaguar six times in a row, nearly toppling over from lightheadedness after the last ride.

Justin and I didn't speak much, only in passing comments and niceties. It was easier that way.

By 5PM, we started to see the signs go up for the concert, so we decided to head over to the stage area, tucked behind the Ghost Rider, in an attempt to get decent seats. We found a table big enough for everyone - with the exception of Matt and Lana, who insisted they be at the front - and got comfortable.

Addison had been sleeping for about an hour, and I had pulled her from the stroller, cradling her to my chest against my sweatshirt, so I could try and shield her ears some from the music. I stood at the end of the table, swaying her back and forth, Mileena sitting next to where I stood, chatting idly with Laura about the day.

I felt a bump to my elbow, and looked to my right, seeing Justin standing next to me, large beer in his hand.

I nodded toward him. "What's up, man?"

My hand was rubbing circles on Addison's back, my knees bouncing gently.

"Could I borrow you for a minute?"

Looking at him curiously, I tried to gauge his intentions. I had kept a good enough distance from Leena for the day, in an attempt to not stir any drama.

"Uh, one sec." I turned, motioning with my chin for Folio to come over. "Can you take her for a minute?"

He just peeled her off of me, repositioning her on his chest. This caught Mileena's attention, who had a concerned look on her face as I began following Justin to where he stood a few feet away. I flashed her a small smile for reassurance.

The opening riffs to Skillet's first song caught my attention for a split second before I turned my attention back to Justin.

"What's going on?"

He took a long pull from his beer, and I noted that it wasn't the first he had that night. "I just wanted to chat with you. Hadn't had much chance to talk today." He snorted then. "Or...ever, really."

I laughed, putting my hands in my sweater pocket. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Congrats on finishing the album, man."

I nodded. "Thank you, I appreciate that."

We both looked over to the stage, taking a second to listen to the song. Comatose. A good one.

"So, can I ask you something? Man to man?"

I turned back to look at him, shrugging. "Go for it."

"Are you fucking Mileena?"

This caught me wildly off guard, making me lean back on my heels, eyes blown wide.

"Excuse me?"

"Cause you two seem a little more comfortable than typical exes."

My mouth was hanging open, my brain scrambled. "Dude..."

"If you are, I guess it's whatever. We never made anything exclusive." His words didn't match his tone at all, which told me if I didn't give the right answer, he would probably put a fist straight into my mouth.

As tempting as that was...

"No, man, we're not sleeping together." I waved a hand in between us, shaking my head. "We're not like that."

"Anymore." He added on.

"Well," I glanced back at Leena, who was watching the concert from her seat. "clearly. We do have a kid together."

He smiled at me then, his eyes darkening. The look made my stomach turn.

"She's great in bed, isn't she?"

My blood turned to ice, and my spine involuntarily straightened. I may be moving on, but I'm still a human being. I can only tolerate so much, and he was testing my fucking limit.

Before I could respond, he decided to continue. "I can't imagine how you ever let go of that, brother. She's fucking wild."

I ground my teeth together, jaw clicking in the process. My hands were balled into fists at my side.

"Let's not." Was all I could get out.

He scoffed. "Oh come on, it's not like we haven't both been there."

The eyes staring back at me were malicious. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. A hot, angry fire lit in my chest, screaming at me to rip this jackass' tongue straight out of his mouth, but I didn't. Instead, I returned his smile with my own, venomous and rage-induced.

"I mean, I guess you have a point." He raised his eyebrows, clearly not expecting my response. "There is a small difference, though."

He took another chug from his cup, wiping his mouth. "What's that?"

I licked my lips, glancing around to ensure no one was around.

"You get to fuck her, right?" He just nodded in response. "She begged me to fuck her."

I watched his smile fall, his eyes squinting and chest puffing out. "Oh yeah?"

I let my shoulders roll back easily. "Yeah. So," I leaned in, making sure he could hear me clearly. "that girl over there, regardless of if she's riding your cock, or any other douchebag's, belongs to me."

I could see his jaw tighten. I turned my body to walk away, leaving him with one last comment.

"And I'll just warn you now," I looked him up and down. "you're just temporary. May want to wrap your head around that."

With that, I walked away. It wasn't my proudest moment, I'll admit, but I didn't care. I held my head high as I walked back to the table, and took my daughter from Folio, bobbing to the music while she slept soundly in my arms.

Mileena and Justin had disappeared shortly after our talk, which didn't surprise me. I didn't see them through the rest of Skillet's set, and Lifehouse was due to come out after the intermission. I had handed Addie to Laura, taking a few minutes to run to the restrooms and grab a pretzel. I waited in line at the snack stand, scrolling through the photos I had taken on my phone that day, when I felt a hard slap come across my left shoulder.

I looked over, seeing a tearful Leena, face red with anger. "What the fuck did you say to him?!"

My eyes panned around, seeing all of the eyes staring at us.

"C'mon." I grabbed her arm, pulling her away from the line, but as soon as we were alone, she squirmed out of my grip.

"Seriously, Noah! What did you say?! He fucking left!"

I rolled my eyes at that. "I didn't say anything he didn't need to hear."

She deadpanned at me. "Which was what?"

Sighing, I adjusted my hat, turning it backwards on my head. "The guy's a dick, Leena. He wanted to talk about how you are in bed with me."

Her eyebrows shot up. "What?"

"I just made it clear that wasn't a good idea."

She narrowed her eyes. "He told me you said we were still sleeping together."

I shook my head. "Nope. I actually told him that we weren't."

"Noah, what did you say?"

After several attempts of trying to give her the cliffnotes version, she finally snapped and demanded to know what I said, verbatim.

Once I told her, I thought the big vein in her neck was going to explode all over both of us.

"What the fuck, Noah?!"

I kept my voice even. "I love how you're only mad at me, when he wanted to antagonize me, while also being halfway drunk." I threw my hands up. "On a day that's about my band, to begin with." I smirked, annoyed, and put my hands in my pockets. "Guy's got some fucking balls, I'll give him that."

Leena shook her head. "I am mad at him. But I'm more mad at you."

My face held an amused, bewildered look. "Make it make sense?"

She rolled her eyes. "Noah, you were the one who reasoned that he had a right to be uncomfortable."

"Oh, well let me be clear - I hereby retract that statement. Guy's a douche." I nodded at her to emphasize each word.

She groaned, and rubbed a hand over her face.

"The fuck am I going to do?"

I snorted. "That's on you, dude." She glared at me. "But my two cents? Break it off. He's an ass." And with that, I walked away from her, leaving her to stare after me with an exasperated look on her face.

Lifehouse finished, but my mood was dead. I had no interest in staying for Daughtry. I was so beyond annoyed by this entire situation, that I elected to leave early.

I offered to take Addison, but Mileena assured that she would take her until my regular day. Rather than argue, I just said my goodbyes to everyone, and headed for the entrance of the park.

My irritation grew the further out I got, and was at a full blown rage by the time I reached my truck, my fist landing on the door.

How could she? This muscled-up dirtbag comes in, pisses her off, and then has the audacity to try and talk shop with me, about her, and she's mad at me? Where is the fucking math on that? What did I fucking miss?

I had been so God damn tolerant. So patient. I had taken the mixed fucking signals, the back and forth emotions, the wanting me one second, and treating me like the outlier the next. I had taken it all on the chin. I'd sat there and watched her be in a new relationship, ignoring how painful that is. Moving on before my very eyes.

And all for...what? For going on tour? For leaving her alone? For admitting that I'm a human fucking being and pictured another woman naked? That for a split fucking second, I considered sleeping with her? For which I then beat myself up and felt guilty as fuck afterwards?!

I was done. Done being patient. Done being the bigger person. I got the fucked end of the stick this entire time, and now she's mad at me?

I sped down the highway, no regard for the limit, zooming toward my house so I could be alone. She ruined this day, and I was fucking over it.

It only took me twenty-five minutes before I was pulled up to my gate, noticing a sedan parked on the street outside of it with it's headlights on. This caught my attention, as it was a vehicle I didn't recognize.

I swiped in, and saw the sedan following me through the gate. This had me on guard, my eyes watching my rearview mirror as the car stopped behind my truck. I was too keyed up, willing to fuck up anyone who tried me at this moment.

Jumping out of my struck, I slammed the door behind me and walked toward the vehicle. The driver's door opened, and a small man, slightly hunched over, stepped out. He wore a lanyard around his neck with some form of ID, and held a manila envelope in his hands.

"This is private property." Was all I said before he walked up to me, a kind smile on his face.

"Noah Davis?"

I scrunched my nose. "Who's asking?"

He looked down at his papers and back up to me. "My name is Leonard James. Are you Noah Davis?"

I crossed my arms. "Sebastian."

He adjusted his glasses. "Oh, I apologize sir. I see that here. Noah Sebastian Davis?"

I rolled my eyes. "My government name, sure. Who are you?"

He handed me the envelope, still smiling at me.

"You've been served."

[darklydeliciousdesires]

The Games We Play - A Sean Wallace/Reader One Shot Story.

I did originally write a similar version of this premise for another fic, but loved it so much I had to rework and revisit the idea again here because it is 100% Sean energy. Enjoy, darlings!

Words - 1,594

Warnings - Smut below the cut and a brief mention of spousal abuse. Minors DNI!

The pleasure of him is biting, like a thousand tiny icicles chased by fire, melting through your blood as his cock rhythmically fills and empties you. His groans are all grit and sin, teeth crushing the delicate skin of your neck, his hand fisted in your hair.  

He keeps your head held back as you watch the sight of him fucking you in the large mirror you’re kneeling before, Sean behind you, his free hand leaving a scorching path of heat in its wake as it slips down over your curves, settling to begin stroking your clit in the same slow, rolling tempo his cock glides into you with. 

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Yes, she likes watching herself getting fucked properly for the first time in years,” he mumbles, kissing your throat, grinning when a sharp snap of his hips leads to your body jolting, your wail filling the room. “Haven’t had a man treat you this well in a while, have you, darling?” 

You feel conflicted in answering, something unpleasant tugging at your guts. He chuckles darkly, the pressing of his fingertips against your clit prompting further wails. “You needn’t verbalise. Your body is doing a very good job of answering my question for you.” His chuckle continues, icy blue eyes snapping over to the corner of the room, lifting his chin. “She doesn’t get this wet, or make such beautiful noises for you, does she?”  

“Fuck you, Wallace,” your husband spits from his location tied to a chair, seething with rage. 

Sean raises his eyebrows. “Fuck me? No, thank you. But I will let your wife do that, when I take her to the bed again, lie down and let her ride me. All while you continue to watch, of course.”  

“I will fucking kill you for this!” 

He tuts, driving into you a little quicker, trailing kisses from your neck to your shoulder. “No, you won’t. You were warned what would happen, should you decide to fuck with me. I explicitly said I would break you down and take everything you love the most. I took your money, I took your foot soldiers and now here I am, in your bedroom, literally taking your wife. She won’t want you again once I’m done with her. I’d say you could bet money on that, but you have none left.” 

“You are pure evil.” 

He smirks again, releasing your hair, hand stroking your neck before slipping to cup at your breasts in turn. “I am, but at least I know how to treat a lady. You don’t have a clue. Women, they like to be desired, attended to, made to feel as if they are the centre of your universe. You can’t just lock them within a gilded cage and throw money at them. Well, some you can, but not this one.”  

Your husband stares at you so unblinkingly, you’re finally forced to meet his gaze. “When I come for him, I will shoot you, too. Nasty, dirty fucking slut!”  

“See,” Sean begins, groaning when you clench around him, whispering the word ‘fuck’ a couple of times, teeth nipping your earlobe. “That is precisely what I mean. It isn’t her fault she finally had a man show her exactly what it is to be desired.” He then returns his attentions back to you, turning your head, kissing you with fiery need. “Everyone knows what he does to you. He makes no secret of it. Come with me and I promise, he shan’t be able to touch you ever again.”  

You can’t quite trust whether he truly means it magnanimously, or whether you’re a mere pawn in the game he is playing in dismantling your husband’s empire as he climbs back to the top of the criminal underworld. You want to believe him, though, that he’s going to rescue you from the living hell of being imprisoned within – as he rightly coined it – a gilded cage, by a husband who only cares that you’re a pretty trophy wife, a man who thrives upon knocking you around, and worse, whenever he is drunk or high.  

Looking back at the mirror, you see it in his eyes, something earnest through the many layers that make up the complexities of Sean. You feel conflicted, but he makes it okay for you. “Do not decide now, darling. Enjoy yourself first. It’s been a while since you have, hasn’t it?” 

“Mmhmm.” You moan, feeling his hand settle to your throat, fingers stroking, the fingertips upon your clit speeding up as his cock begins to pound you with keenness, evoking your cries, making you feel – as he rightly said – desired for the first time in a long, long time. Finally, you let go, let go of the fear, turning your head to kiss him, moaning into his mouth as your tongues roll against one another, the glimmers stirred by his beautifully thick cock streaking through you in a hail of bliss.  

The head of his hardness repeatedly ruts against your g spot, a blaze of pleasure burning, the sound his deep groans in your ear fuelling your undoing as he pours it into you, your waves crashing against his shore as you come with a feral wail.  

His fingers gentle at your throbbing clit, cock slowing, lips pressing your cheek. “Now, take me back to your bed, and show your husband exactly what he will be missing. Because I think you’re leaving here with me, aren’t you?” 

Moving off his cock, you stand, Sean rising to his feet. You reach for him, nails trailing over his neck, making him quiver with lust. “I'm coming with you a few more times first."  

He smirks, chuckling deeply. “Oh, that's an absolute given, princess.” He smacks your bum hard before you both move to the bed. He positions himself on his back, making it that you have to face your husband. Of course, he’d do that. He wants him to see it, watch further as you enjoy him, sinking down onto his cock with a soft mewl, leaning forward to kiss him.  

He’s so gorgeous, you near lose your mind looking down upon him, the juxtapose of being a very deadly man wrapped up in a package that is nothing short of male perfection. His skin is gorgeous, pale and inviting, freckles trailing over the planes of skin covering the taut muscles beneath.  

You glide your hands over his thick arms and shoulders keenly while beginning to bounce upon him, forcing deep groans from his throat, enjoying the sensations of being split so wide around him searing you to your marrow.  

“You look so gorgeous while you’re being fucked,” you whisper, able to see your husband glowering from the corner. 

Sean grins, hands cupping at your breasts. “And you look absolutely incredible while you’re doing it. You love it, don’t you, spearing yourself on a nice, fat cock, hmm?” 

“Fuck, yes I do!” you cry, wailing as he bounces you on it hard, hand gripping your hips, his nails leaving crescents behind. You both put on the kind of show so scorchingly erotic that anyone else watching it couldn’t help but be turned on, but for your husband, your pleasure is his torture.  

Watching a man do a better job than he ever has is bound to do that, though. And Sean knew it before he even stepped foot into the room.

He makes you come a couple more times before finally pinning you to the bed and fucking you like a jackhammer, your screams filling the air as he pulses thick ropes of cum within your sore, fluttering walls, collapsing atop you, absolutely done for. Or so you think.  

“It takes fifteen minutes to arrive back at my house. I look forward to the next bed I fuck you in being mine.” You smile at him, your heart skipping a beat when he kisses the tip of your nose. “Pack a bag, quickly.”  

There truly is little from this life you wish to take with you into the next, a fancy, designer hold all pulled from the wardrobe, your favourite things packed, the rest left there to act as ghosts of the presence of you within the house.  

“I suppose it is only fair I untie you,” Sean speaks, redressed in his suit as you arrive at his side, where he’s stood before your husband. “I am not a particularly fair man, though.”  

He eyes him dangerously before staring right at you, spitting onto the ground before your feet. “Fucking gold digging, garbage whore. He won’t treat you any better.”  

Sean glares at him, a cold stare of menace as he reaches for the waistband of his trousers, drawing a gun. “Yes, I will. And I plan on beginning that right now.” Pulling his finger upon the trigger, the semi-automatic fires a shot straight between his eyes, your husband slumping, blood trickling from the hole blown in his skull.  

“Nobody calls you a whore on my watch.” He slips the gun back into the back of his trousers, reaching to lift your chin and place a soft kiss upon your lips. “I will never lie to you, darling. I am not a good man, but I will be good to you. You’ll see.”  

He takes your hand, leading you from your former home, from the life of being on the arm of one gangster into another. You do see, though, as the weeks and months pass, that Sean truly wasn’t lying. He isn’t good, but by god, he’s good to you.  

[onceuponastory]

a true hero - bucky barnes x reader

Plot: When Princess Y/N is taken by a dragon, Bucky Barnes, her best friend and a humble blacksmith, joins the royal guard in their quest to help rescue her. Pairing: Blacksmith!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader Warnings: People and horses being killed by a dragon, ableism towards Bucky and his metal arm, injuries (nothing too graphic), classism, John Walker being an asshole, and Bucky doubting himself because of it. As always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know! Notes: This is another piece for @buckybarnesevents Alternate June-iverse Connect Four event! I combined the two squares Mythology and Royalty. This could also fit the Fairytale square, but I have a separate idea planned for that, (wink wink). This is based on a Scottish myth/legend. I just reworked it a little for this fic and gave it a slightly happier ending.

Not beta’d, so any mistakes are my own.

One spring morning, Bucky Barnes is hard at work. Sweat drips from his forehead, both due to the fire and his fast work. His work as the kingdom’s blacksmith keeps him busy, whether it’s making horseshoes for the local farmers, or new swords for the royal guard. He inherited the shop from his father a decade ago, and has since transformed it into a successful business. 

“Hello Bucky.” A familiar, soft voice speaks. Bucky gasps, quickly wiping the sweat from his brow and hoping he doesn’t have any dirt on his face. Not that Princess Y/N would care, though. She’s always been so kind to him, despite the difference in their upbringings and social classes. She’ll make a great Queen someday.

“Your highness.” Bucky murmurs, dropping into a bow. Y/N chuckles.

“Please, Bucky. I’ve told you plenty of times that you don’t need to call me that. After all, you’ve known me for long enough. Y/N is fine.” She’s right. The pair are the same age, and have known each other for most of their lives. Ever since a young Y/N visited Bucky’s father’s workshop with her father, and made a point of introducing herself to him. Since that day, Y/N always visits him whenever she can, either at his workshop or when he delivers weapons to the royal guards. Bucky knows that most people in the kingdom are wondering what a Princess would have in common with a blacksmith… and honestly, sometimes he wonders that too. Surely a well travelled, fancy Lord or Prince is more interesting than spending time with him. But Y/N never seems to have thought that, or judged him for what he does. In fact, he swears he could tell her the entire process of making a sword, and she’d still hang onto his every word.

“W-What are you doing here?” He chuckles, hating how tongue tied he suddenly is. 

“Well, I’m visiting the local library, and I had to come see you, of course. I do enjoy our visits.” She smiles. Bucky enjoys them, too. Although, that may be obvious considering the lovesick grin he has whenever she visits him. He’s been in love with Y/N for as long as he can remember. She’s the first thing he thinks of whenever he wakes up, and the last thing he thinks of when he goes to sleep. He’s never told her, though. Of course not. How could a humble blacksmith like him win a Princess' heart? 

Y/N may treat him with kindness despite their different lives, but few others would. And besides, one of those fancy Lords or Princes could give her so much more than he ever could. Y/N deserves a happy life, with everything she could ever need. And Bucky just can’t provide that. But, If being Y/N’s friend is all he’s destined to be, then that’s alright with him. Yet, he just can’t ignore how much his heart sinks when he thinks those words. “So, what have you been working on?” She asks. And then her eyes widen. “Oh, my goodness! Your arm!”

Bucky chuckles. “I finished working on the new version a few days ago.” He smiles proudly, turning his body to let Y/N see it. A few years ago, Bucky was involved in a carriage accident, and in the ensuing carnage, his left arm became trapped in the wreckage. Once he was free, the wound became infected. As soon as she found out, Y/N sent for the palace doctor, the best in the kingdom, to treat him. He advised that the arm should be removed as soon as possible, and it was. Since then, Bucky has been working on a metal prosthetic for it. His new version is still in the early stages, but he’s managed to get it moving, and it’s helping him a lot with his work.

“It’s beautiful.” She smiles. “You’ve done a wonderful job.” As Y/N gazes at his arm, her mouth dropped open with curiosity, Bucky smiles. And that same feeling he gets deep in his gut whenever he thinks about or sees Y/N returns. She saved his life that day. How could he ever repay that?

“Y/N, I-”

“Princess! Where are you?” A booming voice sounds, and Y/N’s face falls. Yet before either can say anything more, Sir John Walker storms into the workshop. Immediately, the atmosphere shifts. Sir John is one of the royal knights, sworn to protect Y/N at all costs. Although, considering how cruel and snobby he is to people who dare to even look in Y/N’s direction, both Y/N and Bucky think he may have let the role go to his head slightly. “Princess.” He sighs. “It’s not safe to wander around so freely, especially with this monster on the loose.” Sir John warns. And for once, Bucky agrees with him. For months, young women in the kingdom have been vanishing without a trace. Nobody knows who or what is responsible, whether man or beast, and the royal guard has had little to no luck finding it. Because of the threat, young women in the kingdom won't go out on their own, especially not at night. And despite how much he adores her company, Bucky doesn’t want Y/N to be the next victim. 

Although, if he could… Bucky would move heaven and earth, and stay by her side to make sure she’s protected.

“I assure you, Sir John, I am quite safe.” She insists, brushing off his concerns with a wave of her hand.

“You are out here, alone-“

“Bucky is here.” She snaps, her soft voice suddenly laced with anger. Even Bucky is surprised to hear it. “And I trust him.” Her words cause heat to settle on Bucky’s cheeks. Heat not caused by the fire this time. 

“Well Princess, I’d still insist that you don’t wander off from your guards again.” John huffs. And then, his disapproving gaze fixes on Bucky, and his eyes narrow. “After all…who knows what trouble you could encounter?” Bucky’s stomach drops, and he tries to ignore John’s words. Yet, it’s difficult. When he said most people in the kingdom must wonder what he and Y/N could have in common… John is absolutely that sort of person. “Now, come on. Your father requests your presence at the library.”

“Sorry.” Y/N whispers, bidding Bucky goodbye with a small wave of her hand. Bucky nods, returning the wave. Yet, after Y/N leaves, John stays for a moment, continuing to walk around Bucky’s workshop in silence.

“Is there an issue, Sir John?” Bucky asks, both to break the awkward silence, and in the hopes it pushes him to leave. Scoffing, John steps closer. As his body turns, he almost flexes the royal crest on his shoulder, reminding Bucky of the power imbalance between them. 

“Princess Y/N may be too kind to say it, but I am not. If I were you…I’d take some time to remember my place.” He whispers, spitting out the last word like it’s venom. 

“I’ve known her since we were young, John. If she wants to see me, she has every right to.” Bucky replies, clenching his jaw. He stands tall and defensive, to show John he doesn’t care about his words. But all he’s doing is reinforcing the same things Bucky tells himself all the time.

He doesn’t fit in. 

Y/N’s only being kind, and doesn’t really care about him.

The second she finds someone new, someone worthy of her status, she’ll forget about him.

“Don’t let him get to you.” He thinks. “He’s just a horrible person. Y/N cares about you, you know she does. That’s all that matters.”

“You’re just a lowly blacksmith. You don’t fit into this world.” John hisses. “The sooner you learn that, and stay away from her, the better.” And with that, he stalks out of the workshop, back to Y/N. As soon as he’s gone, Bucky sighs, his rigid, defensive posture collapsing. He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated.

“Dammit.” He hisses, leaning against the wall as he feels tears springing to his eyes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A few weeks later, Bucky lays asleep. The early morning sun streams in, lightly warming his face as his chest slowly rises and falls, and as he hangs on to his dream world for a little while longer. For a while, everything is quiet and at peace. Until a loud shout cuts through the morning, accompanied by the sound of hooves.

“Citizens! We have an urgent message from your King. Please come to the main square as soon as possible!” The noise immediately awakens Bucky. Moaning softly to himself, he clambers out of bed and pulls on some clothes. Still half asleep, he makes his way outside and joins the crowd of people gathering in the square. Whispers fill the air about what this emergency declaration could be, whether it’s new taxes or a war with some neighbouring kingdom. 

A member of the royal guard steps forward. Bucky recognises him. His name is Steve Rogers, and he’s a lot kinder to him than John ever was. Most notably, he treats him with respect, and like a human being, rather than looking at him like he’s muck on the bottom of his boot. As Steve approaches the crowd, the whispers about what this could be intensify. But in all honesty, Bucky doesn’t care. He just wants to go back to bed as soon as possible. 

That is, however, until he hears the announcement.

“Last night, the beast struck again. Someone spotted it, meaning we finally have visual confirmation of what it is. It’s a dragon.” Immediately, the whispers turn into a furore. Bucky raises a brow. He had heard stories of dragons as a child, but thought they were just a myth. A cautionary tale told to remind him to behave, lest he be left outside for the dragon to find him. But Steve has more to say. “And….” He takes a breath. “It’s taken Princess Y/N.” Bucky’s heart almost stops, and his mouth drops open. For a moment, he swears he could collapse from the shock. Please, god, let this be a horrible nightmare. Please let him wake up. Why didn’t he try harder, tell her to be safer, or promise to come find him if she needed help? His chest tightens, and he gasps, trying to breathe but feeling his chest constricting. All he ever wanted to do is protect her, and he failed. “We have lived in fear for long enough. We believe we know where its cave could be, and we are sending out an army to track it down. Our mission is to rescue as many people as possible. Including the Princess.” Steve explains. “But we need more support. Are there any volunteers?”

Without another thought, Bucky steps forward. “I would like to help.” Steve smiles.

“Excellent, Mister Barnes.” And then, an all too familiar voice sounds.

“And please, tell me how you, a lowly blacksmith, intend to help the royal guard?” Sir John sneers, laughing. “Do you even have any experience with swordsmanship?” Instantly, Bucky is transported back to his workshop the last time John was there, and the embarrassment he felt at how John looked at and spoke to him creeps in once more. Now, though, it’s tenfold. Of course, Bucky isn’t stupid. He knows how this must look. He’s not a knight, much less one whose sole purpose is to keep Y/N safe. And John’s right, he’s got hardly any experience in using weapons, let alone using them to kill a giant beast like a dragon. He’s just someone who loves Y/N… and isn’t that enough? 

“I want to help. I can make weapons. And I spend enough time around swords, so surely I’ll pick up sword fighting easily enough.” He explains, acutely aware of how the entire crowd is staring at him.

John glances down at Bucky’s metal arm, and scoffs. “For this mission, we require our recruits to be… fully operational, able to do whatever we need, whenever we need. I’m not sure if you’d be a suitable choice.” Right away, Bucky knows what he means, and he understands why, aside from his upbringing, John is so dead set on treating him so horribly. His arm. As if having a prosthetic makes someone any less of a hero, or prevents them from doing the right thing. Bucky’s cheeks burn with a mixture of embarrassment and anger, and tears sting at his eyes once more. How dare he? He tried so hard, all this time, to not let John’s words affect him. But now he knows that he’s judging him and viewing him as lesser because of his disability, something he cannot control… hurts him deeply. All he wants is to save Princess Y/N. Is that so wrong?

“It’s beautiful.” Her words replay in his mind, as does the look of pride and wonder she had as she looked at it. That memory makes Bucky feel even worse. The one person who stood up for him and appreciated him has been taken, and there’s no way of knowing if she’s even still alive. And they won’t even let him help rescue her.

“Sir John. Please don’t be so rude.” Sir Steve hisses. “He obviously cares for the Princess a great deal, and I do not see why his arm makes him a lesser candidate.” Bucky breathes a small sigh of relief. At least he has Sir Steve in his corner. Sir Steve turns back to Bucky, smiling. “Thank you for volunteering, Mister Barnes. You will be a fine addition to the army.” He insists, giving John a look as if to warn him not to protest further. Yet, the look John gives Bucky strikes fear into him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A few days later, the group sets off, ready to rescue the Princess and the others. Bucky glances down at the horse they gave him to ride. He’s not used to horse riding, or any part of this life. He still feels completely out of his depth. Suddenly, a memory enters his mind.

“I thought I’d find you here.” Y/N giggles, stopping in front of him. “I was out on a ride, and thought I’d come see my favourite person.” Bucky’s heart almost goes into overdrive, and his cheeks burn. “This is Chestnut.” The horse steps closer to Bucky, nuzzling into his hand slightly.

“He’s beautiful.” Bucky smiles. “I’ve never been horse riding before. Honestly, it kinda scares me a little.” He admits, but Y/N chuckles. Not mocking him, though. She never could.

“You don’t have to be afraid. It’s really quite simple when you get used to it.” Y/N laughs, letting him pet Chestnut. “I love it. But they have trained me to do this my whole life.” Bucky would love that. But to be honest, he’d love spending time with her, doing anything and everything possible. As their hands brush his coat, accidentally, their hands touch, and it sends a shockwave throughout Bucky’s entire body. So strong, so passionate that for a moment, it leaves him speechless. He registers something flickering in Y/N’s expression, and he wonders if Y/N feels the same about him. And yet, he can’t find the words to ask her, or tell her the truth. 

Bucky wishes he’d asked her now, or at least admitted his feelings. Maybe he could’ve prevented this, or at least found some way to protect her. The pit of guilt and fear continues to build deep in his gut. Y/N could be anywhere, even dying, and he does not know where.

“Maybe one day I’ll teach you how to ride.” Her last words to him that day echo in his mind.

Little did either of them know, though, where they’d be now, with Bucky riding a horse to slay a dragon and save her life. Or partnering up with Sir John Walker, of all people. Thankfully for Bucky, Sir John stays up ahead, as far away from him as possible. For now, anyway. Sir Steve’s horse soon falls into place beside Bucky’s, and Bucky finally takes a moment to relax.

“Thank you Sir.” Bucky says. “For standing up for me back there.” Sir Steve chuckles.

“Not at all. And please, call me Steve.” His face falls, his lips pressed tightly together. “I apologise for Sir John’s comments. He’s….”

“A smug asshole?” Bucky finishes, and Steve laughs. 

“Yes, very true.” He nods. “I know I can’t offer much solace, but you’re not the only person he dislikes and treats so cruelly. He doesn’t seem to like anyone aside from the Princess and her parents… although he usually sucks up to them.” He sighs. That doesn’t surprise Bucky in the slightest. After all, John strikes him as someone who wouldn’t hesitate to step on anyone to get what he wants, especially a position as the head of the Royal Guard. “Honestly, I relish the times when I get to put him in his place. Unfortunately, though, I can’t do much to get him removed. I know it cannot ease the way you feel, but I am glad you’re on this mission with us.”

“I want to do whatever I can to help.” Steve chuckles, and Bucky raises a brow.

“Bucky, you don’t have to pretend. I’ve seen the way you look at the Princess, and how deeply you care for her.” Bucky’s cheeks turn scarlet, and his eyes widen.

“I was-” Bucky stammers, expecting to be told off for flirting above his station. But instead, Steve smiles.

“Don’t worry. She speaks about you a lot, actually. And she cares deeply for you, too. Very deeply.” He winks, almost as if there’s something there. Something that Bucky has hoped and prayed was true for so long is true. His heart pounds, his mouth and eyes go even wider, and he blinks in surprise as he tries to think up a way to respond.

As the embarrassment and shock spreads throughout his body, another, warmer feeling grows too.

Hope.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After making camp for the night, the group set off again early the next morning. The atmosphere is more serious, as everyone knows how close they are to reaching the dragon’s cave, yet are unaware of what horror faces them there. Bucky is silent, his stomach churning with anxiety. He barely slept last night, sick with fear about Y/N and if she’s alright. When he did manage to fall asleep, he was awoken by a nightmare. Y/N was alone, screaming and crying out for him, but he couldn’t get to her in time. He knows this is just his mind and his anxieties about Y/N, but he still hopes to whatever higher power there is that this wasn’t a prophetic dream, and that Y/N is okay. 

The closer they get to the cave, the trees darken with soot, their branches scorched by fire. Bucky registers the hair on the back of his neck standing up. This has somehow suddenly become more real, the fact they’re dealing with a fire blowing dragon, not just a mere mortal. Suddenly, he feels far more out of his depth. Yet, he keeps going, ready to save Princess Y/N. Unfortunately, the closer they get to the cave, the more insufferable John becomes.

“When we arrive, I’ll take charge with a group of soldiers and attack this monster head on.” He insists. “And then, I’ll bring back its head, and Princess Y/N will be in my arms.” As he and his friends whisper and laugh amongst themselves, Bucky hears the words “Surely there’ll be a royal wedding soon”, and all the things John’s sure Y/N will do to thank him for saving her life. Once more, Bucky’s stomach begins to churn. This time, though, it’s for something completely different. The way John speaks about Y/N, like she’s an object just for him to possess, makes him feel sick. Like someone as loving as her would ever want to marry someone like him.

“That plan will not work.” The words leave Bucky’s mouth before he can even stop them, and John stops, turning to face him, a brow angrily raised. 

“Excuse me?” Bucky’s blood chills, but he still keeps going. 

“I think it would be better if we went slower and surprised the dragon. Or at least, planned an attack first. If we all charge in on our horses, it’s going to hear us coming and attack us all before we can get too close.” John scoffs.

“Do you truly believe a blacksmith knows more than-”

“John, please.” Steve hisses, coming to Bucky’s defence once again, much to Bucky’s relief. “Let him speak.”

“Very well.” John sneers. Yet, Steve’s defence gives Bucky more confidence, and he continues.

“Like I said, if we go in too fast and loud, it’ll notice us from miles away and be ready to kill us all before we can even strike.” He explains. “I propose we wait a while until it falls asleep. That way, we can sneak up and wound it before it has the chance to fight back.” As Bucky talks through his idea, John continues to scoff and roll his eyes, muttering things under his breath. Bucky knows he probably does sound crazy to some people, not least because John’s right, he’s not a royal guard. And deep down, he doesn’t even know if this plan will work better than John’s, or at all. But that doesn’t mean he can’t point out the flaws in John’s idea. And after so long being treated like a second-class citizen by him, Bucky’s ready to take full pleasure in doing so.

“Very well. Who believes in this plan?” John asks, and some hands in the group rise, including Steve’s. “Well. You can all sit around like sitting ducks whilst we rescue the Princess and kill the beast.” He shrugs. 

As they advance on the cave, Bucky begins to wonder if John may be right about this after all, if his idea is complete nonsense. But then, Y/N’s smile fills his mind once more. She always believed in him, even when nobody else would. And really, her support is all that matters to him.

Soon, they reach a clearing, the dragons’ cave a few metres ahead, and the group takes shelter to prepare themselves. Most stay back with Bucky, following his advice and getting ready to plan their attack. Meanwhile, John and his followers get ready to charge. “See you at the wedding.” John whispers to Bucky, smirking down at him from his horse. Bucky refrains from punching him in the face.

As John’s group charges in, Bucky and the others wait for any noise or movement. Within seconds, a roar fills the air… as does the sound of screaming. Horrible, anguished screams that chill Bucky’s entire body, the likes of which Bucky has never heard before. He also registers the sound of horse hooves, of people desperately trying to get away… but another roar sounds, and they soon stop. 

“God….” Steve gasps as the agonising screams continue. Bucky tries to cover his ears, wanting the noises to stop, but they keep going. It’s suddenly very obvious what’s happened to John and the others. And what could happen to Bucky and the others if they don’t time their attack exactly right.

He looks around the group, each of the men staring back at him, their bodies shaking and mouths wide open with fear. Even Steve looks horrified, his face pale and panicked. They look at him, seeking reassurance that this won't happen to them. And Bucky doesn’t even know what he can say.

Soon, the screaming stops. And once more, the clearing is silent.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Nightfall comes quicker than Bucky would’ve liked, but he also uses the time to refine his plan. Despite the fear still coursing through his veins, he’s determined to kill this beast and save Y/N, whatever the cost. Including the loss of his life.

“So. What shall we do?” Steve asks.

“I’m going in there.” He tells the others. “Myself.” The others protest, but Bucky shakes his head. “No. I don’t want people to get hurt, like last time. You go rescue the others. This is my plan, and I should be the one to go into danger.”

“But you can’t go alone-”

“Yes, I am. Trust me, please.” Bucky hisses. Sighing and clenching his jaw, Steve nods.

“Okay. But if you need any support, we’re helping, alright?”

When Bucky enters the cave, he’s suddenly aware of how much colder it is. He steps closer inside, trying to calm his nerves. He notices a small orange glow down the tunnel, and he follows it, knowing it’ll either lead him to the dragon, or to Y/N. With each step, his heart pounds faster and faster, and he braces himself for whatever he’s about to see. When he rounds the corner, he sees the dragon, curled up and asleep by the fire. As he stares at the beast, one much larger than he expected, he remembers all the stories he was told growing up. Of the brave knights and princes who saved the princesses from the vicious beast. He used to imagine himself like that, as a hero.

Now that he’s here, staring down the dragon all alone… it’s different. And he doesn’t feel much like a hero at all. In fact, he’s terrified.

But Bucky knows what he has to do. He grabs his sword and stabs the dragon in its side. Immediately, it awakens, roaring in pain. As it clambers up, its tail swinging wildly, Bucky ducks underneath it, striking the dragon a few more times as he does so. The dragon readies its tail once more, and Bucky jumps up, clambering onto its body. It jolts, trying to throw him off, but he keeps a grasp on its wing, holding on for dear life. The dragon runs out of the cave, trying to escape him or at least find somewhere to fight. Bucky braces himself… and strikes the beast once more, this time deep in the chest.

With one final, earth shattering screech, the dragon’s body jolts, throwing Bucky clear. He lands hard, hitting his head against the ground, which dazes him for a few seconds. Despite the pain, the last of Bucky’s adrenaline continues to flow through his veins, and he gets back up again… albeit a little more unsteady on his feet. The dragon’s tail clips him a few times, but Bucky still moves forward, raising his sword and striking the dragon a few more times. His hits do not go as deep as his previous ones, yet the beast still roars out in pain. As it staggers away, Bucky tries to follow behind, but by now, the adrenaline is starting to wane, and his head is beginning to hurt.

Yet, as Bucky falls to his knees, about to pass out, he persists. By now, he’s too weak to stand, and instead tries to crawl after the dragon. But he’s too unsteady, and collapses in a heap a few times. Each time, he gets back up, ready to keep going. Until he’s too weak to even stand.

“Bucky…” Y/N’s soft whisper enters his mind. “You have to get up. You have to help me.” 

“Y/N…” He murmurs. Even though he knows this is just a hallucination, one caused by his injuries, he can still feel her whisper against his skin, and her hand cupping his cheek.

“Help me. Please.” With one last push, Bucky pulls himself up. But he’s still too weak, and he collapses to his knees once more. And this time, he just wants to go to sleep.

“I’m sorry Y/N.” He sighs as the world starts to fade away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Some time later, Bucky comes to. He registers soft blankets and pillows surrounding him, and for a moment he wonders if he’s back home, his moment of heroism little more than a dream. Yet when he opens his eyes, wincing a little at the sudden bright lights, Steve is staring back at him. 

“Good afternoon.” He chuckles. “Don’t sit up too quickly. The palace doctor said you’re still pretty concussed, so you’re on bedrest for a while.” Slowly, everything sinks in. Palace doctor. Steve. It’s real. He really fought a dragon. But that means….

“Y/N.” Bucky gasps. Despite Steve’s instruction, he tries to get out of bed. “Where’s Y/N?”

“Princess Y/N is fine.” Steve reassures him. “She had a few scrapes and bruises, but nothing too serious. She’s resumed her royal duties.” Bucky lets out a breath, an immense relief finally off his shoulders. 

“Thank the gods.” He smiles. 

“And,” Steve continues. “You killed the dragon and saved everyone still trapped in the cave.”

“I…I did?” Bucky gasps, still in disbelief. Still wondering if this is a dream. Steve chuckles, and nods. 

“You’re a hero, Bucky.” Before Bucky can say anything more, hurried footsteps echo down the hallway. The door bursts open, and Princess Y/N rushes in. 

“Bucky!” she gasps, almost launching herself onto his bed.

“Princess, wait! You’re both still injured-” But Y/N doesn’t even listen to Steve’s words. She wraps her arms around Bucky, pulling him close to her. Despite the pain, Bucky has never been so happy to see her, or to be holding her again. She begins crying, and her body shakes.

“You saved me….” She sniffles. “I thought I’d never see you again, or make it out alive. You saved me.” As she cries, Bucky continues to hold her, stroking her back to comfort her.

“I’m so glad you’re alright.”

“Because of you, Bucky.” She sniffles. “Because of you.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As soon as Bucky is out of the palace infirmary, Y/N’s parents hold a ceremony to thank him for saving the others, including their daughter, and for killing the dragon. Bucky stands beside Steve, dressed in the royal guard’s uniform. Since his rescue mission, Y/N has personally asked that he be appointed as her personal bodyguard, something Bucky is honoured to do.

“This thing is kind of uncomfortable.” Bucky murmurs, adjusting the neckline.

“Thankfully, we don’t have to wear it all the time, but you get used to it.” Steve laughs. “It looks good on you, though. Congratulations, Buck.” Bucky grins, standing up taller as pride fills his body. Although a part of him is still convinced that this is a dream, and that he’ll wake up alone again. 

And then, Y/N enters the room, walking down the aisle towards them both. She’s dressed immaculately in her full royal attire, crown perched upon her head. She looks gorgeous, like an angel. As she approaches Bucky, her face beaming, he blushes. Bucky bows, and Y/N lifts her sword, resting it on each shoulder.

“I dub thee Sir Bucky Barnes. The new knight of the realm, and my honoured protector.” She calls, and the crowd applauds. 

Later, after the ceremony, Bucky finds Y/N standing on the balcony outside her room. “Shouldn’t you be inside enjoying your party?” She asks, chuckling.

“I wanted to check up on you. We’ve both been through a lot in the past couple of days, to say the least.” Y/N nods. Although she hasn’t spoken too much about what she went through, Bucky knows it can’t have been good. But he wants her to know that he’ll make sure that she’ll never be afraid or alone ever again. 

“Thank you for saving my life, Bucky. I could tell you that every day for the rest of my life and it would still never be enough.” Bucky shrugs.

“You saved my life too, Y/N. All those years ago, when you got the palace doctor to see me.” Y/N nods, chuckling.

“I guess we saved each other, then.” As the pair laugh together, Y/N steps closer. “Bucky?” She whispers. Before he can even reply, she reaches up, cupping his face in her hands. In an instant, Bucky knows exactly what she means. “I love you. I have for the longest time.” She gasps. Quickly, she pulls him closer, placing her lips on his in a soft, yet passionate, kiss. Bucky places his hands on her waist, deepening the kiss. The kiss is somehow even better than he imagined it. When they pull apart from each other, Y/N is beaming once more. “Wow…that was incredible.” She gasps.

“I love you too.” Bucky admits. “I was just too scared to tell you the truth because I was afraid, and I thought I didn’t fit into your world because you’re… you’re you, and I was just a blacksmith and-”

“Bucky.” Y/N chuckles, stopping his rambling. “I never cared about our different classes. To me, you’re just Bucky. You’re the most caring person I know, and you make me smile, even on my worst days. And of course, you saved my life. I love you.” She repeats, pecking his lips again, and Bucky smiles.

“I love hearing you say that.” 

“Well, I’ll tell you that every day for the rest of my life.” She grins.

“Are there any rules about a Princess dating her bodyguard?” 

“No, I don’t think so.” She giggles. “And besides, even if there were… I think I’d be able to change them.” Grinning, Bucky pulls her in for another kiss.

                                                    THE END.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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