#and wo grass hair

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Rusty | Chapter 12 | S.R

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Chapter Summary - In the wake of Luke’s visit, you and Spencer are forced to be honest with one another. How will a former FBI Agent react to discovering he’s been harbouring a fugitive?

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - heavy on dialogue, graphic depictions of violence and murder, past abuse, death of a parent, swearing, tears, prison arc, Cat Adams, dissociation, brief mention of past addiction, making out, use of term “rape”, fingering, oral (f receiving), male masturbation, confessed feelings.

WC - 6.2k

Chapter 12 - Slow Dancing in a Burning Room

Silence. 

As a little girl the sounds of silence ringing throughout your home was a warning sign. Silence was an indication that something wasn’t right, something was deeply wrong. 

The rare moments in which voices weren’t exploding off of walls, reverberating through the halls, cracking, rumbling, echoing within the house filled you with dread, morbid anticipation for when their raucous feuding would begin again. 

Silence in the Reid household derived the opposite, offering a privileged repreve. The small windows in time when his mother was lucid, instead of screaming so loudly that walls shook, were a wondrous abatement of his responsibility. 

When she simply slept as opposed to yelling that they were coming to take her away. Silence was a solace, enjoyed but not necessarily revelled in, because he knew all too well it wouldn’t last.

It went a long way to explain the fundamental difference between the two of you. Where you always tried to fill those deafening voids of quietude, Spencer fought to let them pass freely and for as long as they pleased.

It was so still in the lodge that you could hear the wind rustling through the long grass outside. If you really focused you could even hear the far off sounds of the horses in the stables. 

It was the kind of quiet that left you on tenterhooks, the kind that came before an all mighty eruption. The calm before the storm. The tranquillity before the chaos. The respite before all hell broke loose.

You and Spencer didn’t know each other at all and that was startling apparent now. But thanks to Luke’s visit, it was time to dig up all those secrets you’d both tried to bury from one another.

It was the witching hour. The be all and end all. 

You had relocated to the couch while Spencer was unable to sit still. He paced the length of his living room while you toyed with your hands in your lap. The longer he patrolled, the more he limped, but he didn’t let it slow him down. 

He raised his good hand and threaded it in his hair. He entwined his fingers in the locks and tugged at his roots. Grounding. Tethering. He was trying not to divorce his mind from the situation. 

It was almost an hour spent like this after Luke’s departure. Neither of you wanted to speak for fear of what you might say, what you might unearth. But it was an inevitable conversation and eventually one of you would need to break this fractured silence.

Normally that would fall to you, but not this time. The words wouldn’t come, you were still too busy trying to wade through all of the information. For a time you were at a stalemate, neither of you willing to be the first to break the silence. 

But then with a huff of breath, Spencer finally stopped pacing before he wore a hole in the floor and glared at you with the kind of gaze reserved for the criminals he interrogated back in his previous life. 

“I'm gonna need you to explain to me why my ex Fugitive Hunter, ex boyfriend has a file with your face on in his possession.” His voice was surprisingly steady, not loud but not quiet either. Not necessarily angry but certainly not untroubled.

You leaned forward, your elbows on your knees. You scrutinised him with your gaze, locking eyes with him to show you were not to be intimidated.

“And I’m gonna need you to explain to me how an FBI Agent wound up in prison before falling off the grid and uprooting his whole life to live out some cowboy fantasy.” You retorted, not willing to give it up so easily.

Spencer’s eyes darkened, you saw his jaw pulse as he clenched it. He was most definitely not budging on this.

“You first.” He growled.

You continued to stare at him, offering him your full attention but not a single word. His jaw oscillated furiously, you swore you could hear the grinding of his teeth.

“I swear to god if you don’t tell me everything I will call him back here, Y/N.” He spoke again when you didn’t make a sound. 

You run your tongue around the inside of your mouth, weighing up your options. You had very few. You could make a run for it but Spencer was no doubt faster and he was closer to the door. You could try and lie to him but now you knew he’d been a profiler that wouldn't be easy. 

If your gun wasn’t in your glovebox, you might have considered shooting him, not that you wanted it to come to that. You did care about him after all. 

Your final option was simply to tell him the truth and await his reaction. If he called Luke then you could reassess the situation. For now, all you had was the cold, undiluted truth. 

“I told you about my mom and my stepdad.” You began with a tenuous breath. “After I found out she died, I confronted the son of a bitch. I couldn’t stop myself. He as good as admitted to me that he killed her. I didn’t go there to hurt him, at least I don’t think I did. But I did take my revolver.

“He almost immediately started beating on me like I knew he would. I thought maybe if I let him hurt me just enough I could go to the cops. But then he got me up against a wall, his hand around my throat and I thought this is it, he’s going to kill me. So I had to act fast. 

“I pulled out my gun and I shot him in the stomach. As he was stumbling backwards I emptied my magazine into the bastard. But it wasn’t enough. He was dead, sure, but it wasn’t enough. After everything he’d put me and mom through, it wasn’t fucking enough. 

“So I reloaded and shot him six more times. A neighbour must have heard the gun fire because the cops showed up pretty fast. Everything was a blur. I somehow ended up in a cell, my fingerprints taken, my DNA. 

“I had to remain in holding pending trial as I had no one to bail me out. Eventually when the trial came, I was charged with manslaughter two. Seven years. Seven fucking years.” You paused to take another breath. Tears were readily falling down your cheeks at this point and Spencer’s expression was unreadable. 

“The guard that was transferring me upstate was a real soft touch, young and green. I’ll admit I manipulated him, got him in a compromised position and I escaped. 

“I spent about six months on the run. In the meantime I guess I must have fallen on the radar of your ex boyfriend and his partner. I knew I recognised him when I saw that photo in your room but I never saw him up close, only once from afar. It was his partner that finally caught up to me and I was put back in prison. 

“I spent a year in a max security facility. A few weeks ago there was a prison break. I almost didn’t leave. Almost. But I did. I ran and I fucking ran and I kept running until I find some cowboy injured on the side of the road. I'm not proud of what I did, Spencer, but if I had to do it all again I wouldn’t change a thing. So you can call Luke back but I will run again. I am not going back to prison, I would sooner die.” 

You stopped talking and were once again met by a long stretch of silence. Spencer started to pace the room again, his expression still blank and you had no idea what he was thinking. He didn’t make an immediate grab for the phone so you could only hope there was a small chance he might not turn you in. 

You watched from the couch as he walked back and forth, back and forth. Every now and again he would huff out a breath and rake his fingers through his hair. You didn’t know what to think, and it unnerved you. 

He wasn’t entirely surprised in truth, he’d known you were running from some kind of trouble. The signs had been there, and there had been many. And they all spiralled into the forefront of his memory. 

“What if I rob you? You don’t know me, I could be a criminal.” 

“You’re not gonna rob me.”

“You couldn’t possibly know that.” 

“I'm good at reading people. You have a trustworthy face.” 

——

He didn’t miss the way you jumped a little at the initial sound and how your body seemed to go rigid at the sight of the flashing lights.

——

“What do you do?” 

“This and that.”

——

“Are you in some kind of trouble?” 

“Why would you think that?”

“Deflection. Answering a question with a question. You are in trouble.”

He suddenly stopped pacing, looking back at you. His face didn’t give away what was going on in his head, perhaps that was deliberate. His body went rigid as he sucked in a breath and then deflated as he exhaled. 

“Four years ago I was arrested for drug possession and later charged with murder. I was framed by a woman I arrested about a year prior. She used a partner on the outside to get me in a compromised position, drugged me so I couldn’t remember what happened. I spent three months in prison while my team worked to prove my innocence. But in the meantime, Cat, the woman pulling the strings, had my mom kidnapped. 

“I have not been the same since then. When I was released I tried to continue as normal, like nothing had changed. But I was changed. Three months inside felt like three years and it destroyed the very fabric of my being. I can’t imagine what a year would have been like. 

“The first time I suffered a dissociation was when I had to come face to face with Cat again after my release. I thought she’d had my mom killed and I got her up against the wall with my hand around her throat. And to make matters worse, she was pregnant.” He grimaced a little now, clearly he was seeing the similarities between what he’d done and what your stepdad did to you. You wanted to tell him it wasn’t the same but he spoke again. “I still to this day don’t remember doing it. For a few seconds I blacked out and when I came back around my friend Jennifer had wrenched me off of her.

“And then it happened with Luke.” He choked back tears. “He tried to…touch me and my mind just divorced itself. The next thing I knew I had his arm twisted behind him, pinning it to his back. That’s when I knew I had to leave. If I wanted to keep the people I loved safe, I had to leave. My medication helps to a degree but I’m not the same. I’m never going to be the same. I couldn’t be an FBI Agent anymore when I couldn’t trust myself in the field. What if I dissociated and killed someone? No, I had to take myself out of the equation.” 

You could see the unshed tears behind his eyes but he was determined not to let them fall. Your own were still rapidly rolling down your cheeks but you didn’t care. You’d kept this all bottled up for far too long and it needed to come out. 

He stood staring at you, rolling his lip between his teeth. What did this all mean? Where did the two of you go from here? 

“So what now?” You sighed with a shrug of your shoulders. “I wouldn’t blame you for calling him back. You might not still be an agent but you took an oath once upon a time. Protect and serve, right?” 

Spencer was mulling over your words, nodding his head slowly. He cupped his jaw, brushed his fingers over the scratchy stubble. You weren’t sure if it was an attempt to ground himself or just something he did when he was deep in thought. 

“I should call him. I know that I should.” He dropped his hand again, his eyebrows pinched. You could almost see the internal debate happening in his head. “But…I know what it’s like to be pushed to the darkest realms of your mind, to feel like violence is the only way out. 

“If Cat had killed my mom, I wouldn’t have hesitated in doing the same to her. And I would have slept well after. There are three particular men from my past who if I ever saw again I would, without doubt, kill. So if I were to call Luke, it would be hypocritical of me. Because I understand why you did what you did. And honestly? I don’t blame you.” 

You choked on a sob and it wracked your frame. Your emotions were coming in huge waves and you couldn’t see an end in sight.

“Is this a trick?” Your voice wet with tears. “Did you somehow alert him and he’s on his way back here? Are you trying to distract me?”

Spencer surprised you when he laughed, shaking his head at your question. He finally moved closer to you, dropping down to the couch. He took hold of your hand in his good one and laced your fingers together. He smiled gently at you, his eyes soft as he looked at you. 

“No, Y/N, I swear to you this isn’t a trick.” He croaked. “Do you believe in karma?”

Your brow pinched deeper, unsure where he was going with this. 

“Yes, very much so.” You nodded. 

“Me too. Although I hate to admit that because I’m a man of science and logic. But I do believe that what we put out in the universe has some bearing on how we are compensated in return. You and I aren’t that much different. We’ve both seen our share of immense trauma, both had to face things no one should ever have to go through. 

“But I’m starting to think that maybe us finding each other was the universe's way of cutting us both some slack. Maybe we are each other’s rewards for the atrocities we’ve been forced to face. I have no intention of turning you in, and if you run anyway, I would be inclined to follow you. Because I think we need each other. I think we’re just two lost souls who found each other just when we needed one another the most. 

“I spent my whole life feeling as though no one understood me, alone in a constant sea of people. But since I met you, I’ve felt seen for the first time in my life. Even before I told you all of this, I think you saw something in me that resonated with you. I think ultimately, we’re one in the same; two peas from the same fucked up pod. I think I’m…” he trailed off, swallowing a lump that suddenly formed in his throat. “I think I’m falling in love with you and I think I want to let myself.” 

Somehow his confession caused more tears to fall from your eyes and he was quick to let go of your hand and cup your cheek so he could brush them away. He held you with a delicacy you’d never experienced before. No one had ever been so kind, so gentle with you. No one had ever looked at you the way Spencer was right now. 

You’d done a terrible thing and you knew it. Although you didn’t necessarily regret your actions, and you certainly weren’t missing any sleep over Leon's death. But because of what you’d done you’d resided yourself to being alone. No one in their right mind would ever accept for you for who you were and where you’d been. 

But Spencer Reid - Doctor, SSA whatever he was - didn’t just accept you but he understood you. 

It was intrinsic. A deep seated comprehension passed between you. Perhaps Spencer had a point, for all your collective wrong doings, all the trauma you had both suffered, maybe the universe was offering you to each other in compensation. 

The tears continued to fall and he didn’t stop wiping them away. The look he was giving you told you he would always be there to dry your tears. He briefly removed his hand from your face and took yours again, pulling you to your feet with him. Once you were both standing you instantly fell into his outstretched arms. 

You nuzzled your face against his chest and he encased you in his arms. His cast pressed against your back but if you felt any discomfort you didn’t mention it. His other hand meandered up and down your spine, rubbing your back in a calming manner while you sobbed into his t-shirt. It occurred to you that this was the first time he’d ever hugged you. 

In return you wrapped your arms around his waist, holding him so tightly he felt the air being squeezed from his lungs. But he didn’t care. Not in the slightest. 

He lowered his head, resting his cheek on your crown. His breath fanned through your hair, his strong, comforting hand scoring up and down your back whilst his heart beat could be felt from your proximity. 

Never in your entire life had you felt so secure than you did at that precise moment in time. 

You’d spent so many years running from the prospect of closeness, hiding your heart away from the world. After losing your father so young and then your mother at the hands of her second husband, you had learnt to never depend on anyone. 

In Spencer you had found a kindred spirit. He had built up the same walls around his heart, guarding himself from the world with the same careful precision you had. He didn’t let people in because he, like you, had been burnt in the past.

But as he held you in such a tentative yet unyielding manner, you could feel the defences you’d carefully curated start to crumble to dust. 

Spencer's approval and resolute understanding of the very fibre of your being was resoundingly stalwart. You knew as he tightened his grip on you that he would be forever unwavering in his adoration and protection of you. 

“Spence?” You whispered, wiping your eyes on his shirt before looking up at him. 

He lifted his own head and brought his good hand to your jaw. Your chin rested in his large palm while his fingers caressed your cheeks. 

“Yes Y/N?” He whispered, glossy eyes peering down at you. 

“I think it’s only fair that you know…” you trailed off, sucking in a breath, preparing to speak words you’d never said to another person before. “I also think I am falling in love with you too. And at this point, I’m too far gone to stop.” 

He breathed out a sigh of relief and chuckled lightly before brushing his lips over your own. 

“Please don’t stop.” He mumbled into your lips. “Because I have every intention of catching you when you are ready to fall.” 

“You know you’ll never have a normal life, right? I’m on the run, I’m always going to be looking over my shoulder.” 

“Y/N I have never known a normal day in my life.” He laughed. “I’d rather be looking over my shoulder forever with you by my side than ever be without you.” 

“You really do know all the right things to say, huh?” You smiled up at him, your heart wrapped in a warm blanket of affection.

“Not usually.” He shrugged. “But you make it so easy.” 

He brushed his lips over yours again, keeping his hand on your face, holding you as if you were a fragile bird. 

“No more secrets?” You asked, eyes pleading. 

You noticed something flicker across his features briefly as he drew in a breath.  

“In the interest of transparency, the real reason I don’t drink is because I had a drug problem. A long time ago now but, uh, yeah.” He puckered his lips. 

“Wow, you really are messed up.” You chuckled. “I have a trunk full of cash which I took from my mom’s safe after I killed my step dad. And the car outside is stolen. I took it from a junkyard and changed the plates so no one should be looking for it, but it’s always a possibility.” 

Spencer closed his eyes for a few seconds, nodding his head in understanding.

“Might be best to get rid of it at some point.” He mused out loud. “Where did you get a cell phone if you’re on the run?”

“It’s a burner.” You shrugged. “I mostly relied on a paper map and my own instincts whilst travelling but I needed it just in case. Good job I did too because otherwise you might still be out in that desert.” 

“Lucky for me.” He kissed you again, more passionate than before, his tongue edging into your mouth to deepen it. 

It was a strange and alien feeling having someone know you so completely, and not only know you but accept you. 

He was soon leading you back towards his bedroom and the two of you climbed into bed together. You undressed each other down to your underwear before Spencer started to tense up. He pulled back from your lips and stroked your hair back off of your face. 

“I, uh, I thought I was ready but…” he trailed off with a fractured sigh.

“You’re not there yet.” You finished for him.

“Not quite.” He admitted, a faint blush spreading to his cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’m trying.” 

“Please don’t apologise to me, it’s okay.” You brushed your knuckles over his stubbly jaw. “Spence, I have to ask…” 

His eyes snapped closed and his body stiffened. He rolled away from you until he was on his back.

“Please,” he mumbled. “It’s been a lot today. Can we just…?” 

“Okay,” you agreed, although not placated by his answer. “Can I…at least hold you?” 

His body seemed to relax a little at that and you saw his head nod against the pillow. He held his arm open and you curled into him, resting your head on his chest and draping your arm over his stomach, careful to avoid his wound he hadn’t yet redressed. 

His skin was warm against the side of your face and you closed your eyes, breathing him in. He tucked his own arm around you, resting his hand on your hip and brushing his fingers against your flesh. 

There were some things he simply couldn’t talk about. A part of him wanted to, a part of him wanted you to know him inside and out. And maybe one day you would. But he was exhausted by this day and needed to keep this one thing close to this chest. 

Telling the woman he was falling in love with that he was raped was not exactly high on his priority list.

***

When you awoke you were on your side facing the window. From this angle you could see pieces of the rolling expanse of land bathed in the early morning sunlight through the slatted blinds. 

Spencer’s casted arm was around you, one of his knees pressed between your own thighs, his front flush against your back.  He was already awake, that much you were certain of as his lips were peppering kisses along the side and back of your neck. 

You nuzzled back against him to let him know you were awake too, and he held you tighter. His hips grinded against your ass and given that between you there was only your flimsy panties and his boxers, it was inherently obvious how hard he was. 

Less than twelve hours ago he said he wasn’t ready for anything like this but you weren’t going to complain. 

Spencer had woken up like this, pressing against you, holding you for dear life. He’d been standing at half mast in his pants before he opened his eyes. With his brain still addled by sleep, he was going to take advantage of it and just let himself give over to this. 

He kissed along your jaw bone, fingers that peeked out of the cast brushing over your ribs. The cast was impeding what he wanted to achieve and he grumbled a little against your skin. 

“Can we, uh, relocate?” He mumbled. 

“As in?” You croaked out a reply. 

“Same position. Other side.” 

You nodded against the pillow before rolling over to face him. Spencer was particularly uncoordinated in his attempt to clamber over you, lay himself down and resume spooning you. 

He tucked his casted arm under the pillow and his good hand was now able to freely wander your body. He forced his mind to stay in the ether, somewhere between wakefulness and sleep. He needed this, he needed to feel connected to you, more so than he already did. 

He didn’t waste time with the preamble, didn’t want to allow his mind to be fully aware in case he started overthinking it. He brushed his fingers over the waistband of your panties to which you moaned in response.

Taking that as a green light, he manoeuvred his knee back between your thighs to wedge your legs open and let his hand slide inside them, instantly moving towards your clit. 

You gasped at the contact of his deft index finger pressing against your bundle of nerves, wiggling your ass back against his crotch. 

Spencer started rubbing intricate circles on your bud, closing his eyes and burying his face into the back of your neck. 

You were already completely soaked and it drove him wild to know he could have this effect on you before he’d even touched you. 

His ministrations were fast and desperate, and he started rutting against you in no time at all. You had barely escaped the blankets of sleep and your head was still hazy. 

His finger flicked and pressed with adept precision. He knew exactly what he was doing and your moans were testament to that. 

You were already spiralling, falling into the depths of pleasure bestowed by him. You rocked against his hand, fitfully to increase the friction. 

His heavy breaths on your neck and his hardness rubbing up against your ass cheek were only adding to it. You wanted to turn your head, look at him, kiss him; but he kept you pinned to his chest. 

Your thighs were trying to clamp around his hand as he toyed delicately with your clit, but his knee was in your way. You heard him chuckle darkly into your hair. 

“What? What do you want?” He mumbled, his lips pressing against the skin of your neck. 

“M-more,” you simply whined. 

Spencer thrust against you, the feeling was mutual. 

Suddenly he withdrew his hand from your panties making you whine like a feral dog. He then shuffled backwards, pulling you roughly by your shoulder until you were on your back. 

He quickly knelt over you, his eyes dark and pupils blown wide. His messy bed hair hung in his face and a sinful smile was adorned on his lips. 

He kissed you hard and fast, tongue plunging into your mouth and messily exploring its contours. It only lasted a moment before his lips trailed down your jaw and to your neck. 

He sucked deeply at the apex of your throat, you could already feel a bruise to begin to form in his wake. But then his lips continued to trail lower…

He kissed the swell of your breasts over your bra, down between them across your sternum. Brushing over your ribs they kept getting lower and lower until…

A wanton moan escaped you as his lips ghosted across the waistband of your panties. Spencer smirked against them as he raised his hands and started pulling the fabric down out of his way. 

You kicked them off your legs, looking up at him with large eyes. 

“Is this what you want?” He spoke against the skin of your hip bone. 

“Y-yes…” you whimpered. “Yes p-please, Spencer.” 

“Not Spencer,” he smirked at you. “Call me Doctor.” 

You whined loudly, arching your back off of the bed.

“Fucking hell.” You panted. “Why is that so hot? P-please Doctor. Need it. Need you.” 

He growled at your use of his honorific, straining painfully at the front of his boxers. He let his lips graze lower, breathing in your natural scent. 

You instinctively parted your legs wider and Spencer settled between them, gazing between your legs like he’d just found the holy grail.

There was a point not so long ago when the idea of intimacy, specifically oral sex, would have sent him spiralling into the darkness. But right now he needed his face between your legs with an unadulterated desperation.

Perhaps had you been a man it might have been different. In all honesty he knew he’d never be able to perform oral sex on a man again. Chances were, he may never be able to receive it again either. 

Your glistening cunt spread before him was the most dizzying sight he’d ever beheld. And although it had been an extremely long time since he’d been here with a woman, he still knew exactly what was needed to pleasure you the way you deserved. 

His forearm came down on your stomach, pinning your writhing body to the bed. He edged his face closer and closer until you could feel his breath between your legs. 

And then the flat of his tongue swiped through your slicken folds, collecting your arousal on the muscle and swallowing you down. 

He moaned at your taste and it vibrated through you. You wiggled beneath him but he held you down harder with his arm. 

He was purposefully slow in his movements, making you desperately squirm against him in the need to get him where you so badly needed him. 

His facial hair was rough between your legs, causing a friction that was unimaginably pleasurable. 

He allowed his tongue to dance between your folds, teasingly avoiding your clit. You whined as your fingers dove into his hair and tried to tug him higher by his roots. A laugh escaped him, dissolving between your legs. 

“Someone’s impatient.” He mumbled, swallowing down more of your bitter arousal.

“Can you blame me?” You panted, wrapping your legs around his neck. 

He chuckled again, placing a kiss on the inside of each of your thighs. And without warning he plunged back between your legs like a scuba diver taking to the ocean and drew your bud into his mouth. 

You gasped loudly, fingers curling into his thick locks and gripping them with all of your might. He suckled your clit, his tongue swirling around it in the most jaw dropping way conceivable. 

Your eyes rolled back in your head and your thighs clamped around his head. You thought you could have just come then and there. 

His tongue was skilled, as though this was a well practised art to his. He was sure of himself and it was warranted. He settled quickly into a smooth rhythm, one in which sent a heat flooding throughout your entire body. 

His strong arm held you down against the bed as you frantically rocked against his face, coating his chin and mouth in your slick. 

Spencer was moaning against your clit, a man possessed by his one objective of bringing you to orgasm with his tongue. 

In his mind we’re only two thoughts fighting for dominance: getting you off and the almost painful straining against his boxers.

Without really meaning to, his hand wandered of its own volition between your bodies and straight into his pants. 

He gasped as his hand wrapped around his shaft as though surprised by it. He quickly started pumping himself in his hand, but kept his attention between your legs. 

The sounds of his saliva mixed with your arousal and the room was awash with the sloppy sounds of Spencer’s eating you out. 

Your fingers were lost in his hair. Your legs tightened around his head to the point you might suffocate him. But he didn’t care. 

He let his tongue glide back between your legs hissing in desire as he collected your seed on his deft muscle. Soon enough he settled back on your clit, sucking it back into his warm, wet mouth once more. 

Your body was convulsing, trembling and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. Your impending orgasm swelled in the pit of your stomach right beneath Spencer’s arm. 

Your nails grazed his scalp and he bucked into his hand, precum leaking from the tip. He wanted to continue this forever, spend every single moment of every single day worshipping you between your legs.

But he knew you were close, he knew it was only a matter of time before you reached your peak. 

As if on cue, you tugged tightly on his hair, thighs pressing viciously against the sides of his face. 

“F-fuck…” you stammered, the tears now rolling from your eyes. “S-Spence, I’m gonna…oh fuck.” 

A final, rushing wave of pleasure encompassed you and he sucked harder on your bud, as a scream erupted from you. 

You came with a string of slurs and whines and Spencer continued to lap his tongue back and forth over your clit until you were physically pushing him away. 

Your body was a quivering mess beneath him, your hold on his hair and grip of his face loosening as your limbs flopped like a rag doll to the mattress. 

Spencer collected your arousal on his tongue, making you whimper and shudder. With a chuckle he sat back on his haunches, still with his hand around his cock. 

You blinked a few times, bringing him into focus. The sight before you could only be described as divine. 

His mouth and chin was glossy with your arousal, his eyes nodded with lust. His hair was messier now after your assault on it and fell in his eyes. 

His boxers were pushed down to his thighs and he hurriedly jerked himself in his hand as he knelt over you. 

You rolled your bottom lip feverishly between your teeth, unable to take your eyes off of his thick, hard shaft in his hand.

His stomach was clenched, his abdominal muscles tightening beneath his flesh. His member was coated with his own slick and you regarded the way the vein on the underside pulsed with each pump of his hand. 

“I’m c-close.” He mumbled, increasing his speed. “Where can I…?”

“Anywhere.” You were quick to answer. “Anywhere.” 

The endless possibilities were too much for his hazy brain and didn’t move, couldn’t move. Instead he kept up his strokes for a few more moments before the tug in his balls and pinch of his stomach alerted him to the imminence of his orgasm.

Seconds later he stuttered out a breath, mumbling, “f-f-fuck!” And then he erupted, streak after streak of hot come across your stomach and hips. 

He slowed his strokes but continued to pump himself more leisurely as he expelled every last drop of his orgasm, some of which dripped down the side of his balled fist. 

Once his cock was completely spent, his legs gave way and he collapsed next to you on the mattress, quickly drawing you in for a deep and slightly messy kiss. 

The smell of sex clung to the air, heavy and heady and in return Spencer clung to you like you were his only lifeline. You held him with as much energy you had left in your body, limbs entwining to the point you didn’t know where you ended and he began.

He peppered sloppy kisses everywhere he could reach, from you cheeks to your neck to the crown of your head. This had to be heaven because nothing had ever felt this good.

He looked at you, deep into your eyes as he cupped your face delicately in his hand. It was impossible to doubt his loyalty to you when he looked at you like that. 

“I, uh, I lied before about something.” He croaked and you immediately frowned at him. 

“About what?” You pouted but Spencer was smiling at you, dispelling some of your nerves. 

“I told you I was falling in love with you. I lied.” 

“I don’t…I don’t understand.” You croaked. 

He inhaled deeply through his nose as his hand trailed into your hair. His gaze was permeating right through to your soul. 

“I’m not falling in love with you. Because I’ve already fallen.” His smile grew but there was a hint of nerves laced into his words. 

You exhaled in relief, half wanting to slap him for misleading you like that. But instead you kissed him. 

“God that was mean.” You laughed against his lips. “And I guess that makes two of us.” 

You felt him relax in your arms at your admittance and he pulled you tighter to his chest. 

You were ultimately just two fucked up people just trying to find your place in the world. And neither of you would have ever thought you’d find it here together. 

@kalulakunundrum @small-and-violent @voledart @katrina0-0 @bakugouswh0r3 @prettyboyandthefangirl @zooni92802 @marvellover1819 @babyspiderling

[love-at-first-sight-23]

Movie Night

WARNINGS: Plenty of smut, mentions of alcohol. Viewer discretion advised.

PLOT: It’s party time over with the Pogues! While inside grabbing extra drinks and popcorn, JJ finds you and can’t resist himself…

Crickets chirp and decorative lights make the backyard glow as you and the Pogues get ready for a movie night.

“Hey! Over here!” John B tosses a bag of Doritos over to JJ, narrowly missing Kiara’s head.

“Watch it!” She snaps and rolls her eyes at you. “Boys.”

Chuckling, you help set up lawn chairs in front of the large projection screen in the middle of the yard.

Once everything’s ready, you turn on the projector and the movie starts rolling. Settling down in a chair next to your friends, laughter soon fills the night. Beer and soda bottles, chocolate bar wrappers, and popcorn litter the grass.

“Hey y/n, mind grabbing us some more popcorn? It’s in the kitchen.” John B says to you.

“Why is it my job?” You complain.

“Because you do it the best.” John gives you his best puppy eyes. “Oh, and could you grab us a few more beers while you’re at it?” He adds.

“Sounds like he’s too lazy to do it himself,”Pope comments. His friend shoves him playfully.

Sighing, you get up and head into the house. As you wait for the popcorn to pop, you hear someone come in the door.

“Hey, babe,” JJ says with a smirk.

When you first came to the Outer Banks, you never dreamed of dating the one and only JJ Maybank, drop-dead gorgeous Pogue with golden blonde hair and sexy blue eyes to match. But then again, you were known for being irresistible too.

“Need something, Jay?”

“Oh, nothing,” he replies lazily. “Just, you know, you.” This is nothing new. JJ is definitely the flirtatious type, but with you he does nothing less than smother you with compliments and adoration every hour of the day. You don’t mind, of course.

He steers you into the living room, where he backs you into the wall and places hands on either side of you.

“JJ…?” You ask with a slight smile. “What are you doing…?” 

“What I can’t resist doing when I’m around you.” And he crashes his lips into yours, forcing you straight up against the wall as he fills you with his heat.

As he pulls away, you kiss him again without hesitation, cupping his face in your hands.

Just then, Pope walks in, his mouth agape as he sees you two making out. You pull away quickly, blushing slightly.

“What are you-? You know what, I don’t want to know.” Shaking his head, he leaves the room.

“Oops.” You and JJ giggle at each other. “Guess we better get the snacks.” 

Outside again, John B cheers when he sees the fresh popcorn and beverages and Pope eyes you suspiciously. You ignore him and get right back to having fun, downing several shots; JJ’s arm wrapped around your shoulders.

                       ｡･:*˚:✧･:*˚:✧｡

Later that night, while the rest of the group is in the living room in their sleeping bags chatting, you and JJ sneak up to the bedroom, with the excuse of needing to use the bathroom.

Laughing quietly, you shut the door behind you. JJ picks you up by the waist and tosses you onto the bed carefully.

In a matter of seconds he’s on top of you, his lips pressed against your mouth and tongue traveling inside. You can sense his growing erection against his pants as you kiss.

Clothes are tossed aside as well as your bra and panties, and JJ begins massaging your breasts, earning a few moans from you. His mouth sucks your tender tits again and again, making them wet.

You move down to suck on his hard cock, trying to fit his entire member in your mouth at one time. You stroke the parts that remain exposed.

JJ moans out your name, eyes watering in pleasure. He slides one finger, then two, inside your wet pussy. “JJ…” you whine.

“Shh, it’s okay baby, it’s okay.” He slides himself in little by little, waiting for you to get used to his size. You arch your back in pleasure as he thrusts in and out, moaning into his mouth. 

“JJ…” you gasp. “I’m going to… c-come…”

“Go ahead, beautiful,” he responds, his words coming out strained.

You reach your climaxes at the same time, hand covering your mouth to stop yourself from full-on screaming. Coming back down, JJ’s thrusts become weaker until finally he pulls himself out, breathing heavily.

After you lay on the bed, waiting out the overstimulation, you head to the bathroom to clean each other off.

Tiptoeing cautiously back into the living room, Kiara asks sleepily, “Where have you guys been?”

“Oh, nowhere,” you say together with grins on your faces.

[tj-dragonblade]

Dreamling Fic Masterpost

In honor of Dreamling Week, here's an updated masterpost of everything I've written for them so far, split into SFW and NSFW. Each section is arranged oldest to newest. Links go to Tumblr posts, and each Tumblr fic post has the direct AO3 link also.

You can also find me HERE on AO3.

(Read More for length so it's not ridiculous when pinned)

💕🌼The Fluff and Assorted Other Offerings🌦️❤️‍🩹 If it's rated M there is a brief spicy passage somewhere in the fic but not enough to warrant the full E

Use Your Words Rated T, ~2500 words Hob finds mistletoe hung in the bar. Dream is. Insistent. That they adhere to tradition.

Old Acquaintance Rated G, ~800 words It’s New Year’s Eve at the New Inn, and Dream and Hob are on the same page

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: velvet Rated G, 165 words One of Hob's favorite things about Dream

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: memory Rated G, ~230 words Dream is distracted by a memory

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: thread Rated G, ~200 words Hob loves his grey hair

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: daydream Rated T, ~800 words Hob's daydreams are not the only distracting ones

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: enthusiasm Rated G, ~200 words Enthusiasm is one of Hob's defining traits

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: trust Rated T, ~1500 words Dream finds Hob cooking for him (aka The Spicy Omelettes one)

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: grass Rated G, ~330 words A date in Fiddler's Green

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: fireplace Rated G, ~170 words Generic hearth metaphor

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: strong Rated T, ~3400 words Dream helps a drunken Hob get home (aka The Drunken Confessions one)

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: teach Rated T, ~520 words Dream teaches Hob how to summon him; self-immolation discouraged

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: vague Rated M, 465 words Sometimes Dream speaks vaguely. Sometimes he is Very Direct

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: glasses Rated T, ~330 words Sometimes Hob wears Glasses

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: yesterday Rated G, ~470 words Time works different in the Dreaming

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: recovery Rated T, ~2900 words Dream is dating; Hob works hard to just be a good friend while watching it fall apart (aka The Thessaly Breakup fic)

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: friend Rated T, ~1800 words Dream contemplates friendship, Hob, and the blurring of boundaries

In the Morning Light Rated T, ~1960 words Dream visits Hob on a rainy morning

Anticipation Rated T, ~700 words Dream chooses Hob’s Halloween costume (spoiler alert: it's the Wavemother's robe from BG3)

Untitled Knight Hob/King Dream Scene Rated M, ~1300 words A synopsis-plus-scene-draft of a potential Knight Hob and King Dream AU that in all likelihood I will never actually go back to, but I like what's here so it goes on the masterlist

The Keeper and the Traveler Rated G, ~1700 words Not-Exactly-Human AU. A campfire folktale about finding what you didn’t know you were searching for, or something like that. Inspired by Nightwish's 'The Islander'

I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm Rated M, ~6900 words It’s winter in London and Hob is interested in sharing various cold-weather human experiences with his distinctly-not-human boyfriend

Shampoo Rated G, ~550 words Fluffbruary 2024 prompt 'Scent'. Big changes also mean small changes, and sometimes a loss can bring gain as well

London Fog Rated M, ~3500 words Sequel to Caribbean Sunset. Human AU. Dream does his best to ignore Possibilities while he copes with returning from holiday

Before I Go Rated G, ~850 words Fluffbruary 2024 prompt 'Evening'. A Season-of-Mists-style leave-taking visit, some time later in their relationship

Vogue Rated M, ~750 words Fluffbruary 2024 prompt 'Photography'. Human AU. Dream comes home and Hob greets him with a camera.

☂️The Umbrella Boys series, a Human AU☂️ A Sweet Romance Beginning in a Queue Rated T, ~4500 words 🎶Bus stop, wet day, he’s there, I say, ‘Please share my umbrella’🎶 Love Rain Down On Me Rated M, ~2300 words 5 times those Three Little Words go unspoken, and one time they do not.

Chaos and Calm Rated G, ~1550 words Searching for rain boots and meeting friends in the park. No real plot, just meandering domestic parenting vibes.

🔥🌶️The Spice and the Smut🌶️🔥 (aka The Stuff You Hide in the Pantry at Work For) 😉😘

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: snack Rated E, ~1800 words Hob comes home to find Dream waiting from him in the traditional murder-widow robe

Built For You Rated E, ~820 words Hob questions Dream on some particulars of his waking world anatomy

Insatiable Rated E, ~3100 words Dream gets rimmed and railed within an inch of his life

Of Cutoff Shorts and Classic Cars Rated E, ~4300 words Hob has made some very distinct wardrobe choices on a hot day. Dream approves.

Little Indulgences Rated E, ~1000 words A spot of fun with lingerie and sex toys

Caribbean Sunset Rated E, ~5500 words Human AU. Hob hooks up with a beautiful stranger on a Caribbean cruise

My Song Can But Borrow Your Grace Rated E, ~6800 words Fanfic for Flatter the Mountain Tops by Teejaystumbles (linked in the post). Dragon AU. Hob wants Dream in dragon form to fuck him while he stays in human form; Dream is beginning to see there’s more to it than just a size kink.

Appreciation Rated E, ~4300 words Sequel to Anticipation. Hob wears the costume (the Wavemother's Robe from BG3); Dream has his fun.

On the Edge of a Waking Dream Rated M, ~3900 words Monsterfucktober Bingo Square 'Ghost'. Human AU. Dream never believed in ghosts until his boyfriend became one

The Beauty of the Beast Rated E, ~3100 words Monsterfucktober Bingo Square 'Were-creature'. Recently-turned werewolf Hob wants to protect Dream from this new side of him. Dream is. Not interested in being protected.

Ambrosia Rated E, ~4000 words An exercise in celebrating the human messiness (and messy humanness) that Dream finds so attractive in Hob

Customer Service Rated E, ~4500 words For the Dreamling Week 2024 June 5 prompt 'Dirty'. Human AU. Mechanic Hob's just trying to fix the rich guy's Porsche but the rich guy is looking at Hob like he's a five-course meal

[cherienymphe]

By The Water’s Edge (Namor x Reader)

WARNINGS: yandere elements, siren song influence, alluded to dubious consent, loss of virginity, pregnancy (hinted at intentional), wakandan!reader 

➥ if my Yucatec Maya translation is wrong, please feel free to let me know

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​

summary: you never stood a chance once you caught the eye of the king of the sea

~

You waded through the tall grass, the nightly breeze cooling your skin as you repeatedly looked over your shoulder. This corner of Wakanda was always so quiet at night, but silence never guaranteed anything. It didn’t guarantee that you weren’t being followed.

And you absolutely had to be sure that you weren’t being followed.

You were relieved that you could only hear the slight ruffle of grass from the wind, the beads on the end of your braids hitting each other, the clanking of the bracelets on your wrist. You turned back around with confidence, trekking further and further away from everyone else…and closer to the water. It was always a safe place for you, a place to sort through your thoughts, a place to just be, but now it was a comfort for an entirely other reason.

He had come out of the water one night like something out of a dream.

Or nightmare.

Your body had stilled as you sat on the water’s edge, rooted in a mixture of awe and horror. He was adorned in jewelry that reminded you so much of the kind you and your sisters wore. The glow of the moon had lit both his path and him as he slowly rose above the surface, water clinging to his skin and dripping from his dark locks.

He was beautiful, and you hadn’t been able to look away.

However, a tinge of horror had started to creep into your chest as so many things hit you at once.

Who was this man? How did he get into Wakanda undetected? Where did he come from? You had so many questions as you watched him come closer, and you had stood in trepidation. There had been a soothing breeze that night too, ruffling the blades of grass behind you and your skirt with it. Despite how much your heart had been racing, you still hadn’t moved, hadn’t left to inform the queen somehow.

You didn’t know why.

You and the outsider had stared at one another for what felt like too long, drinking each other in for entirely different reasons. You wanted to know who he was and why he was here and what he was going to do. He, on the other hand, seemed to be studying you. He had tilted his head, dark eyes fixated on your face like you were the least threatening thing in the world to him.

You didn’t know how you felt about that.

“My mother told stories about a place like this…”

The deep baritone of his voice had struck you, making you blink. For the first time since he walked out of the water, he broke eye contact, looking around and roaming his eyes over the land around you.

“Pristine air…and the water,” he trailed off, a hint of a smile on his lips. “A protected land with people that would never have to leave.”

You hadn’t taken your eyes off of him, watching as he looked back to you, running his hand through his wet hair. You ran your gaze over him, taking in his skin and the bands of muscle that were his arms and torso. Even his legs looked powerful, and you didn’t stop yourself from taking a step back.

“…but of all the reasons to envy this place…I never expected it to manifest in the form of a woman.”

You had frowned at that, brows pulling together in confusion, and that was when you finally spoke.

“Who are you?”

He had chuckled to himself, perfect teeth winking at you as he placed a hand to his chest as if you had reminded him of the very important fact that you were strangers.

“My people call me Ahau K’uk’ulkaan,” he’d said. “My other name… That is for my enemies, and I hope that you will never have to refer to me as such.”

You hadn’t realized how relaxed you had become, shocked with yourself when you didn’t move when he placed his foot on the dirt before you, moving closer.

“You come here a lot…”

Your heart had skipped a beat at that, eyes widening slightly at his words. It was true. You did come here a lot. It was probably your favorite place in all of Wakanda, and you had wracked your brain as to how he knew that. As if he could hear your thoughts, he answered your silent question.

“I’ve watched you,” he told you, gesturing to the water behind him. “I’ve watched you sing and write and just relax by the water’s edge.”

His admission should’ve terrified you, and in a way, it did, but there was something more that kept you from running. There was something that held you in place to listen to him.

“I didn’t intend to at first, that’s not who I am, but…”

He was standing right before you now.

“I could not look away.”

You swallowed, and his dark eyes were drawn to the movement, gaze momentarily lingering on your throat.

“I kept coming back, hoping to catch glimpses of you, and the more I did…the harder it became to leave for good.”

“How…how did you get in here? Queen Mother-.”

“Doesn’t need to know about what isn’t a threat.”

Your face had heated up at both his interruption and the implications behind his words. It wasn’t up to him to decide if he was a threat or not, and your lips parted, but no words came out. Here was a man who had uninterrupted access to Wakanda, the queen none the wiser, and you couldn’t help but to linger on the immense guilt you’d feel if he did turn out to be a threat all the while you said nothing.

You glanced up at the sky, noting how late it was getting and sure that one of your sisters would come looking for you soon. The man, K’uk’ulkaan, followed your gaze before your eyes met again, and you took another step back. Then another…then another. You were surprised that he settled for merely watching you, making no attempts to stop you, and when you were far enough away, you turned your back on him and ran back home.

You should’ve gone to the queen that night, or at the very least, the next morning. Something like this was unheard of, and you were the only one who knew, so it was your responsibility to do what was right in the best interests of your people. And yet…

You had spent all of the next day distracted, mind miles away as it was plagued with thoughts of the man who came from the water. You had almost convinced yourself that it was a dream, but the scent of the water on his skin was burned into your brain, and so conflicted about what to do, you had almost forgotten his words.

The reason why he was even here.

Years after that night, you would finally admit the truth to yourself. You didn’t keep his existence a secret for Wakanda. You didn’t return to him again and again to learn more about him to tell the queen. You didn’t get close to him and succumb to him for the benefit of your nation, but instead to sate your curiosity. You went back to him every night because you were curious about the beautiful man who put his existence in jeopardy just to know the woman by the water’s edge.

You had found yourself sneaking through the grass the next night, almost disappointed to find yourself alone.

“You did not tell your queen.”

You had been startled by the sound of his voice, jumping and looking over. He stood by the water, the flow of the tide washing over his feet as he gazed at you. You had stared at him for a long time, mulling over your next words.

“I might have,” you argued.

The small smirk dancing along his lips made your stomach flip.

“You did not,” he called you out on your lie. “Why?”

You didn’t have the courage to tell him it was solely for your curiosity. You had spent more hours awake the previous night than you wanted to admit, thinking on the man before you and the predicament you found yourself in. Part of you hated him for putting you in this position, the position to betray your home and your people by not revealing his existence and access to Wakanda to the queen.

However, another part of you, a larger part, was drawn to him.

And that draw, that pull you felt towards him, was why you came back night after night. You would meet him by the water’s edge, sometimes barely speaking and sometimes talking about everything. He told you about his home, an entire civilization of people who made a home and a way of life beneath the water. You thought that it explained so much, his ability to breathe under the water long enough to travel through it to Wakanda, and even his access to Wakanda in general.

You were fascinated by him, entranced, and he knew it.

“Y/N,” you had told him one night, your name rolling off of his tongue like water as he repeated it to himself.

You liked the way he said it, unable to take your eyes off of him as he held your hand. His other traced an index finger along your palm, the action equally soothing and arousing. There was a point where you forgot all about the queen and the fact that this outsider had access to your nation. The thought of what he and his people could do was long gone, replaced by the desire to see him every night instead.

Blinded by that desire or not, it didn’t take you long to understand that he wasn’t out to hurt Wakanda.

He was here for you.

The way he’d look at you both excited and scared you, having never been on the receiving end of such a look before. It was intense in a way that was almost overwhelming, like he was hanging onto your every word and studying every movement you made. You had wondered if it were possible that he was just as entranced by you as you were by him. You wondered if you imagined that glint in his eye, that look like he wanted to keep you all to himself.

“Do you sing for your family? Friends?”

You had shyly shaken your head, and his smile had warmed your chest as he reached up to touch your face.

“Why not? You have a beautiful voice,” he’d told you. “Hypnotizing even. Almost like…a siren song.”

“I’ve always liked singing alone.”

You had shrugged, still somewhat embarrassed that he’d heard you on several occasions. That embarrassment lessened as time went on, as well as your timidity, and your days felt brighter with the anticipation of seeing him every night. It was noticeable, your cousin Okoye commenting on it one day, asking about what had you glowing. You had shrugged in response, a small smile on your face.

“Just happy, I guess.”

You came home sometimes with new jewelry, a necklace or earrings he’d made resting against your skin. The first time, you had held your breath, heart pounding as he stood behind you. His bare chest had grazed your back as he clasped it behind your neck, fingers brushing your skin and causing a shudder to travel down your spine. You had heard him deeply inhale, breathing you in, and when he turned you around, it only hit you just how close you were.

“It suits you,” he had complimented, a secretive smile on his lips. “Just like I knew it would.”

If your parents or any of your sisters noticed, they didn’t voice it. If they noticed the way you began to pull away, isolate yourself and preferring to stare off into space, they kept quiet about it. K’uk’ulkaan consumed both your waking thoughts and your dreams, waking up and falling asleep with him on your mind. There were times where you couldn’t even fall asleep, too wrapped up in thoughts about the king of Talokan. Your mother only said something when you started eating less and less, seemingly in a daze as you merely pushed your food around on your plate.

You remembered what K’uk’ulkaan had said about your voice, comparing it to a siren’s song, and you thought to yourself that’s how you felt whenever you were around him.

Ensnared by a siren’s song, mind consumed with nothing but him.

So, it came as no surprise when you kissed him back one night, eager to taste more of him. The grass hid you both from view, the moonlight shining down on you both, and your hands pressed against his arms. Your entire body lit up with a heat that you desperately wanted to chase, moaning into his mouth. His hands on you felt like heaven, and you never wanted to leave.

The dirt had been nonexistent against your back, the water hiding your lower half from view as he rested against you. Your dress was feet away, the only thing on your skin being the jewelry he gave you…and him. Your fingers dug into his skin, nails scraping along his back while he thrust into you. Your mewls were low, paranoid of being found out, and you could tell that he liked hearing you.

You clenched around him, clinging to him and fluttering around his cock. He surrounded you, trapping you beneath him as he stretched you out, lips dragging over your skin and tasting you. Your fingers threaded through his hair as you gazed up at the moon, the faint sting in your core registering in the back of your mind but too overcome with pleasure to dwell on it.

You felt like he wasn’t close enough, hips lifting to meet his with every thrust. Your chest arched up into his, legs bending and toes sliding up his own legs. You lost count of how many times you came around him, stumbling back to your house in the early hours of the morning in a daze. You had the faintest memories of one of your sisters pressing her hand to your forehead, concerned that you might be sick as you merely laid in bed.

You only left your room to return to him again, sinking down onto him as he held you in his lap, fingers pressed into your skin. He touched you and held you like he never wanted to let you go, and whatever alarm bells went off in your head at that were promptly silenced as he lifted his hips, pushing his cock up into you as you wrapped your arms around him. Your face was buried into the crook of his neck, your breathing labored and choppy as you sighed against his skin.

His hands had traveled up, resting on your face as he pushed your head back, forcing you to look at him.

“Do you love me?”

Wracked with pleasure and drunk on him, you had lazily nodded, mind passing over the way his dark eyes glinted under the moonlight. He leaned in, kissing down the column of your throat and pulling a moan from you as your head lolled back. Your lashes fluttered, and your gaze rested on the sky.

“How much?”

“More than I’ve loved anyone,” you had sighed, head falling forward against his shoulder again.

“Do you promise?”

Your reply was immediate, and he didn’t let you go until you were coming undone in his arms. That was how most of your nights were spent now, stealing moments with your lover from the water and driving yourself insane every time you had to walk away.

“Why do you call me that?”

K’uk’ulkaan was looping a braid through a small seashell, his lips pressed to your forehead as he did.

“My k’iino,” he had murmured when you reached him, practically tripping over yourself to be in his arms. “Mine.”

He hummed, pulling away to finish what he was doing, and you watched his face.

“It means sunshine…or sun,” he quietly replied. “…even though I only ever see you at night, to me, the moon pales in comparison.”

You had smiled at that, heart sinking a bit as he pointed out the limitations on your trysts. Deep down, you knew that, realistically, things couldn’t go on like this forever. Somehow, some way, something had to give, but you had never expected it to come in the form of an upset stomach one morning, spilling the contents of your stomach in the bathroom.

One of your sisters went to your mother in concern, and she believed your assurance that it was just something you ate, but in your heart, you knew.

“…but this is my home.”

You both stood at the water’s edge, your eyes wide at his suggestion to leave Wakanda. Of all the solutions to the dilemma you faced, you hadn’t expected that. You didn’t miss the way his features hardened slightly at your resistance, stepping closer and head lowering a tad.

“You said you loved me.”

“I do,” you told him, blinking in shock that he’d ever doubt that.

He took your hand, bringing the back of it to his lips.

“…and don’t you think you should prove that to me…?”

Your mind spun, and you looked away.

“Besides…there’s no guarantee our child will survive on land like you.”

You looked back to him, stricken at his very valid point. He had long explained how he came to be, how he was so different from the rest of the Talokanil. The chances that the baby inside of you would be more like them rather than him due to you and what you lacked were high. Your eye stung, feeling stuck in an impossible situation.

“I need…to think,” you slowly whispered, stepping back.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that his eyes had darkened at your words. There was a sinking feeling in your stomach, and for the first time in almost a year, you left him while the moon was barely in the sky.

You didn’t sleep much, if at all, that night, staring up at your ceiling. You were wracked with a myriad of emotions, so many of them conflicting and confusing. K’uk’ulkaan had consumed every aspect of your life for months on end, and you felt like you couldn’t even physically live without him, but in the same breath… Wakanda was your home. Your entire life was here, and you couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.

Even the next night, you still hadn’t come to a decision. Night after night, you mulled over your predicament with a heavy heart, chest tight and eyes burning with tears. Your days were spent with your head in the toilet, and your nights were spent sitting outside of your house, wholly aware that you didn’t have all the time in the world.

And your time ran out one starless and moonless night, the most hypnotizing melody reaching your ears and imbedding itself into every crevice of your brain. It was addictive, filling your entire being with the desire to find it. You heard nothing and no one else as you seemed to glide across the land, steps sure as you waded through the grass. It filled your heart with a peace and security that you hadn’t felt in days, bringing a smile to your face.

Nothing registered. Not the disregard for your family and your nation, not the carelessness in the way you boldly walked through the tall grass, nor that you were traveling down a familiar path. Your body didn’t quite feel like your own, but you were too captivated to care. You only cared about following that sound.

And found it you did.

K’uk’ulkaan, Namor as he’d one day revealed to you what he also went by, stood in the water where you always met. His hand was outstretched to you, beckoning you closer with a welcoming smile. You happily returned it, your feet dipping into the water, dress clinging to your skin the deeper you waded. Your hand met his, bringing it to his lips with a soft kiss as he threaded his fingers through yours.

Without so much as a backwards glance, you followed him into the murky depths.

[renlyslittlerose]

Today's drabble is 'First Kiss'. This is a quick little drabble set in the Moonlight Serenade universe. This is from Padmé's POV during a visit back home. Takes place summer 1952~

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Padmé wondered if Anakin knew about all the subtle ways Obi-Wan cared for him.

She wondered if he knew that Obi-Wan always stood to his right, their shoulders brushing, only a few inches of space between them as they navigated through crowds and public spaces. That it was Obi-Wan who protected Anakin’s injured side, blocking it from view and from touch, always mindful of where he was in relation to Anakin’s arm, keeping it safe within the shadows of his form.

Or how when Anakin’s manufactured bravado and fake cheer would wear down, instead replaced with weariness and irritation, Obi-Wan would tilt his head upward just to hear Anakin’s soft voice grow ever softer, and to breath in the words Anakin spoke. Obi-Wan never asked Anakin to speak up, to put on a show, to smile and laugh and coddle those he normally might disappoint. Instead he changed his own demeanour to fit that of Anakin’s, bringing his energies down until they swayed together like reeds in a lake.

Or when Anakin’s smile became tight, his shoulder tense, his eyes glassy with pain, Obi-Wan would grip his residual arm and hold. A friendly gesture, to the unknowing gaze, but filled with so much love and care it sometimes hurt to see. Obi-Wan would replace Anakin’s pain with something else to focus on - the stern yet still tender touch of a lover. The ache in his arm and the stinging in his skin would be replaced with the heat of Obi-Wan’s palm and the strength in his hand, grounding and steady as Anakin trembled through the memories of an agony not yet finished.

She knew, of course, Anakin noticed the most obvious things. Like how Obi-Wan would hold his plate at dinner events and pile it high with foods, asking Anakin what he wanted as they went down the tables, making sure Anakin’s belly was sated before he’d see to his own needs. Or how he tied Anakin’s tie and helped with the laces of his shoes when asked; how he styled his hair in the morning, and ruined in the evening; how he shaved along the curve of Anakin’s jaw and down the stretches of his neck; or how he cut the meats and vegetables for their dinners while Anakin did what he did best in the kitchen - make a mess.

And other stills, that Obi-Wan didn’t know she knew. Things more intimate that Anakin would confess over the phone, his voice bright with cheer as he detailed the latest night of passion, Padmé curling the phone cord over her finger as she laughed and sneaked glances into the living room to make sure no one could overheard the detailed descriptions.

Padmé wondered if he knew. Because she did.

“Padmé?”

Padmé blinked and turned to her mother. They were stood on the back steps of her parents estate, summer sun shining down on the backyard party. Vancouver had rolled out the nice weather for her visit, the skies clear and the winds gentle, the smell of roses fresh in the air. She’d missed this.

“Sorry, mother,” she said, and kissed her cheek quickly before venturing down into the party, a tray of cocktails in her hand that she’d offered to take out to the party.

The grass was cool on her bare feet, and she greeted those she passed by with a smile and an offer of a drink. By the time she’d reached Anakin and Obi-Wan, the tray was empty save for two glasses of gin and tonic.

“Fancy a drink?” she asked.

Anakin’s hand was occupied by a plate with the leftovers of cake on it, so Obi-Wan - as was expected - took both glasses and raised one to her in appreciation.

“Lovely party,” Obi-Wan said. He glanced around the space, his aviators sitting on the bridge of his nose, hiding away his blue eyes that Anakin had described to Padmé more times than once all those years ago. “Thank you for inviting us.”

“You’re welcome, though I’m sorry I haven’t been able to chat much.”

“It’s been six years since your last visit,” Anakin said, the word ‘six’ sitting heavy in the air. “It’s natural people would want to spend time with you.”

His shrug brought Padmé’s attention to his shirt. It was a pretty green silk and short-sleeved, the lapels broad and the top few buttons opened. Padmé could see Anakin’s scars along his chest, and his residual arm poked out at the bottom of his sleeve, exposing it to the world.

“I like your shirt,” Padmé said.

Anakin smiled, though it seemed hesitant. “Obi-Wan bought it for me.”

Adoration filled Padmé then. Of course he had, because he knew Anakin wouldn’t buy it for himself. Because he still cared what others thought; still hid from the world despite it all; still faltered where confidence would be best.

But Obi-Wan knew how beautiful Anakin was, and made Anakin believe it. If only for a short while.

“Ani, I forgot my pocket mirror in my purse back inside. Could you go and grab it for me?” Anakin made move to leave, but Padmé stopped him to grab his plate, replacing it with the drink tray. “And take this back inside, will you? Give it to Samantha.”

Anakin rolled his eyes but did as instructed, his long legs carrying him quickly through the throngs of people. He still cut quite the image, broad shoulders and slim waist making him look more a model from one of the catalogs, than a mechanic with a penchant for hot-rod racing.

When she turned back to Obi-Wan, she didn’t have to see his eyes to know where he was looking.

“That shirt really does look lovely, doesn’t it,” Obi-Wan mused with a soft smile.

Padmé laughed and dragged him in for a kiss. It was quick and sweet, and when she pulled away the greys in Obi-Wan’s beard were painted in red lipstick.

“Padmé,” Obi-Wan mumbled, his cheeks a delightful pink that matched the ruby tones of her lips. He leaned a little in, voice low enough for her to hear. “Not that I’m not flattered, but I’m a married man.”

She giggled again, but when she gripped his arm and held she couldn’t help but squeeze down as she spoke, voice serious, her brows furrowed. “I just wanted to say thank you. For the things you do, the things you say. For who you are. Thank you.”

Obi-Wan’s smile softened, and he nodded quickly. “No need to thank me. But I cherish the sentiment all the same.”

When she pulled away she grabbed a napkin and passed it to Obi-Wan and took one of the gins from his grasp. By the time Anakin returned the lipstick had been wiped away, and Padmé watched as Obi-Wan quietly filled the empty space next to Anakin’s right side once more. She ended up keeping the gin and tonic, while Obi-Wan and Anakin subtly shared the one, lips placed over the spot where the other had drank, like a soft kiss shared between the pair, known only to the trio stood beneath the summer sun.

[hypnoneghoul]

Sundown: Chapter 1

WC: 2,6k

Relationship: Pre-relationship SwissAlps

Tags: Transfeminine Mountain, AU; Cowboy!Swiss x Barmaid!Mountain, First Meeting, Fluff, Protectiveness, Discussion About Being Transgender, Transphobia  (warning for that if someone's sensitive to it), not from swiss tho he's supportive!!!

Swiss has been travelling for a while. He finally gets to a place he can rest in and meets an unique individual. He's immediately enamored.

Notes: comm for @jazz-bazz, first part of our au! ty bex <3

Read chapter 1 under the cut or on AO3.

He’s been sweating his ass off for three days before something resembling civilization has finally come along. He’s half dead, his chick is half dead, and all he wants is to get a pint of cold beer and a damn bed.

The town—barely big enough to be called such—is obviously sparsely populated. Swiss doubts it’s even inhabited at first, but the closer he gets the more signs of life he’s noticing and the hope in him grows. He leans down to pat his chick’s neck and sighs at the puff of dust coming off of her.

“Soon, girlie. I’m gonna give ya a good brush, you deserve it.” The mare nickers and the pair continue their slow walk toward the town. It doesn’t take that long for them to make their way into the shadow casted by the town’s buildings. It smells like cow’s shit, but the people obviously have more water and food than they really need, which means there is a chance Swiss and his horse will get some. If not given freely, he’ll take it, but he is tired and he hopes their visit in that place will go smoothly.

Swiss doesn’t see any heads peeking out of doors or windows to look at him, neither threateningly nor curiously, as he looks around searching for any sign that would indicate where he can find a bar. He really needs a beer.

His knees crack when he jumps down from his mare. The ground is dry and a cloud of dust arises as his boots touch it. He finds something that could be a spot for travelers’ horses and as he leaves his chick there he hopes nobody will shoot her off if he was mistaken. It’s a solid roof over a spot covered in a thick layer of straw, with buckets full of fresh looking water hanging off of wooden beams and cubes of hay under them. Inviting enough.

Swiss pulled the reins over the mare’s neck and pulled the bit out of her mouth before tying her to one of the beams by the water. He hopes she won't be too picky. “Drink, girlie, I’ll be back soon.”

He pats her on the ass on his way and walks away, heading into the adjoining building. The batwing doors’ hinges squeal loudly as Swiss walks into what indeed is a saloon. It’s nearly empty, only two men are sitting in a corner and talking quietly over drinks. Swiss scans the space and even though it’s empty, it seems nice. The men from the corner don’t acknowledge his presence, but he doesn’t crave attention this time, so it is fine by him. It’s a bit colder there than outside and he already feels some relief.

Swiss goes straight to the bar and just as he’s sitting down on one of the squeaky stools the barmaid walks out from behind a dark brown curtain hanging between the shelves. A gorgeous, tall wo…man? They are a very pretty man, if that's the case. He shrugs, though, it’s none of his business.

They are wearing a long, light green dress—a little old fashioned in style, but it’s a good piece. Little dirty-white apron covers the dress from their waist down to where their knees are under the skirt. The dress doesn’t have sleeves, only straps digging into their shoulders and going down to create a laced neckline that makes their tits look very compelling. Their hair is long and wavy, a beautiful shade of dark amber flowing down their back and over their shoulders.

Their eyes, though…oh, their eyes are what makes Swiss’ belly swoop and his mouth go even drier than it already was. Big—adorned by thick and long lashes—and in the color of the healthiest, most fresh, summer grass ever. Swiss haven’t seen grass as green in years.

“Anything to drink for you?” They ask, picking up a rag to wipe the bar. More to busy themself than because it’s dirty. If anything it’s dusted over from unuse. 

“Well, ain’t ya a pretty thing?” Swiss winks, his head tilted to the side. He knows he most definitely looks like a creep, but he can’t stop staring.

“Oh, me? Uhm–thank you?” they stutter as blush creeps up their cheeks, coloring them a light rosy pink. Gorgeous. “What…what about that drink?”

“Get me a pint of some good ole beer, sweetheart. Pretty please.” 

“Mhm,” they nod, obviously flustered, and turn to disappear behind the curtain again. Swiss sighs—he really is exhausted—as he rests his chin on his fist, his other hand scratching at his stubble. Well, more like a beard, he didn’t have much time or opportunities to take care of it, so it’s a bit unkept now.

Soon enough the bar…person returns with Swiss’ beer and hands it to him with a light smile. “There you go.”

“Thank you kindly,” he mutters, nodding, before pressing his lips against the chilly mug and tipping it back. He moans at the refreshing feeling washing over him the moment beer pours into his mouth.

“Is it that good?” the person chuckles, leaning against the wall with their hands crossed over their chest. Their beautiful, full chest and it’s–Swiss shakes his head. He ain’t seen no tits in ages but he isn’t an animal, damnit.

“Nah,” he snorts before taking another gulp. “It’s piss, but I’ve been dry as a desert, sweetheart.”

The person curls their lips into a little amused smile and turns, grabbing the rag and starting to wipe the bar again. Swiss tries to not be obvious in his staring—looking from under the rim of his hat. The stranger is so captivating, he can’t tear his eyes away. 

“Listen, I don’t mean any disrespect, sweetheart, but I’ve gotta ask–” Swiss starts after clearing his throat, but gets cut off. The other probably expected it to go that way.

“You’re the nicest person I’ve encountered in a long time,” they say with a smirk and Swiss bows his head, grinning. “Phrase your question as nicely and there’s a chance I won’t take out the revolver from under the bar and shoot your hat off.”

“Damn, sweetheart.” He recoils dramatically, raising his arms defensively. “You’re too pretty for me to offend, don’t ya worry.”

“So?”

“Are you a boy or a girl?” The question lands, but no offense shows on the person’s face. Swiss continues. “Cause if you’re a boy, then you’re the prettiest one I’ve ever seen—and I’ve seen a lot—and if you’re a girl, then…well, then you’re the prettiest one of those.”

“I’m a woman, kind sir,” she laughs, fully this time, and the melodic sound of it goest through Swiss’ ears right to his heart, “you haven’t proven yourself worthy of permission to call me a girl. Yet.”

“Understood. I'd love to try and prove my worth.” He winks and lifts the mug nodding, as if in a toast. “You’re a gorgeous woman, ma’am.”

“Thank you. I do understand the confusion, though, even my own body didn’t get the memo.” She sighs, fidgeting with her hands and worrying her lip between her teeth. Swiss gets a sudden urge to gently pull it free, lest she breaks the skin and paints her mouth with blood, but he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t, they’ve just met. Swiss doesn’t know what possessed him.

“Huh, that’s so…” He mumbles, staring holes into the already rugged wood of the countertop. With the corner of his eye he sees the barmaid pull up a chair on the other side of the bar and sit on it, right before him.

“Unnatural?” she finishes for him, but her guess of his thoughts couldn’t be falser.

“No, I wanted to say it makes you unique. It’s amazing,” Swiss says—confident—looking up at her again. She is so much closer now and so many more details of her beauty are visible to the man, and if she’d let him he’d count all the golden freckles adorning her face a hundred times over.

“Oh…” she whispers. Swiss doesn’t count her freckles, but he does follow the path of a blush crawling up her cheeks. “Well, uhm, I don’t know. It doesn’t feel amazing most of the time.”

“That must be tough,” he replies, wondering. “Is it like…like you don’t feel right in your body? Like it’s not yours?”

“Yeah, sometimes,” she has no idea why she’s suddenly spilling her innermost thoughts to a stranger she has met not even half an hour prior. There is something about him, though, that makes her feel safe and maybe carries a chance of finally being understood. Even if just a bit. “And sometimes I just feel…wrong all around.”

Swiss hums in acknowledgement and leans down to his mug, swallowing down a few gulps. Once his mouth is unoccupied again, he asks, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“It’s Mountain,” the barmaid says, “but I prefer just Mounty.”

Swiss snorts at that, but immediately regrets it upon seeing Mounty’s brows furrow in confusion and her eyes fill with a tiny bit of hurt. “Sorry, sweetheart, I ain’t laughing at you! My horse’s name is Monty, that’s why!”

“Oh. Oh, okay,” she relaxes and chuckles, too, a bit embarrassed by her immediate defensiveness. “Yeah, that is funny.”

“Nice to meet you, Mounty.”

“Won’t you give me your name?” the barmaid’s eyelashes flutter and Swiss wouldn’t be able to refuse or lie to her even if he wanted to.

“Swiss, sweetheart,” he says, lifting up the mug again. “My name’s Swiss.”

“Nice to meet you, too, Swiss,” Mounty replies, her face lighting up with a soft smile, and if Swiss was standing it would make his knees buckle. Still, his insides warm up and twist and he’s never felt like that; so stupid and…vulnerable.

Swiss feels himself blush and he quickly hides behind his mug.

“Would you–” Mounty is about to ask him something, but a squeak of the doors and heavy steps interrupt her.

“Afternoon!” a stranger calls out, walking into the saloon as if it was his own ground. Swiss looks up at the barmaid and sees her tense up—her lips turn into a thin line and her brows furrow. She knows the man and she isn't fond of him in the slightest.

Swiss doesn’t like that look on her.

“Afternoon, sir,” Mounty mutters, standing up. The man doesn’t reply, just walks over and sits down by the bar next to Swiss. He is alert after Mounty’s reaction, one of his hands close to his gun.

“Get me some whiskey, girl,” the stranger grumbles, spitting the last word out like it burns his tongue, like an insult. Swiss realizes it is supposed to be one and the knot inside him tightens, this time with something resembling anger. How can someone treat such a gorgeous, brilliant and kind creature without utmost respect?

“Hey, she ain’t your girl,” Swiss hisses as Mounty disappears to get the man’s drink. He won’t sit there and pretend he is okay with what is happening right next to him. “Bark orders at your wife like that. If you even have one, it don’t seem like you’ve got a lot to offer.”

“Why do you care?” the stranger scoffs, “he’s a freak.”

One second Swiss is sitting relaxed, sipping on his beer, and then in the next he’s up with his back straight, looming over the other man and staring down at him with fire in his eyes.

“I suggest you either apologize to her when she gets back,” he growls, reaching behind himself, to his revolver, “or get out now so neither of us have to see your ugly face any more. Or else…”

“Or else what!? Ya one of them, too, hm?” the man—clearly an idiot—snarls, craning his neck to look up at Swiss, pretending to be brave. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you had no balls on you.”

“Oh, I’ve got enough balls, asshole,” Swiss laughs and that seems to hit. He pulls his revolver out from behind his belt, twists it on his finger and watches the other man hesitate about his next words. “You wanna lose yours?”

The man scoffs as if there wasn’t fear in his eyes. He’s a coward and he storms out accordingly, because it’s unlikely he knows better than to actually challenge Swiss. He doubts he knows who he was.

Just as the man disappears outside, Mounty returns with a glass of whiskey intended for him. There’s no smile on her face and her rather neutral expression turns to confusion as she sees only Swiss by the bar. “Where did he go?”

“Oh, he realized he left something at home.” Swiss shrugs, returning to his stool.

“And what would that be?”

“Respect for women,” he says with a smirk and Mounty returns it, knowing and thankful. She sits again and looks at the glass in her hand before pressing it against her lips and cringing as she tips it back to drink. “Not a fan?”

“Not at all,” she coughs and Swiss chuckles. She is adorable. “All I drink is tea.”

“Tea is good,” he says and looks into his mug—there was still some beer left. He lifts it again and silence falls for a moment.

“You really are nice to talk to,” Mounty speaks after a while. “I get called a freak and other names all the time, usually the moment I come into someone’s view. It’s nice to be treated normally, have my feelings acknowledged…and be protected. You know?”

“I can only imagine.” Swiss smiles at her fondly. It must be hard living like that. Trying to live right by yourself and offending others by simply existing, just because they are too thick-skulled. If he could, he'd sit on that creaky chair every damn day and chase off every single man who'd as much as look at Mounty wrong.

It’s quiet again, Swiss finishing up his beer and Mounty drinking her whiskey—frowning at every single sip. They have just met, but the silence is comfortable. It feels like not only did they know each other for ages, but that they have a…special connection, of a kind.

Swiss snorts at his own thoughts. He’s stupid for them, for thinking this is anything more than…than what, exactly?

“A’ight, sweetheart,” he sighs after a moment, breaking the dead silence. “I should get going, find somewhere to sleep.”

“We’ve got beds,” Mounty perks up, immediately shying away as she realizes she might’ve been a bit too enthusiastic, “if you want…”

“I’d love a bed, but I don’t have much money,” the man shrugs. He’d rip anyone off without any remorse, but not her. He’s never gotten a soft spot for someone as fast as he did for her. “And I’d rather get a place for my horse than myself.”

“And if it’d all be on the house?”

“What, like me so much already you don’t want me to leave?” Swiss laughs, winking.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Mounty scoffs, but her own wink says something else. “You’re clearly exhausted, who would I be if I let you go back on the road without a proper rest?”

“Will you at least accept my help in here and in the stables as a payment?”

“I can consider it,” she mumbles, smiling softly as she stares at Swiss through her lashes.

“Alright, then. I’ll stay, sweetheart.”

[gurugirl]

The Queen's Secret Ch. 16*

Previous Chapter Summary (as a refresher): Getting Harry onto the property without being noticed was risky, and not everything goes exactly to plan but the reunited pair make the most of their time together.

Summary: Harry & Y/n are in bliss together at last but only a week into their reunion the King makes a surprise visit.

A/n: Thank you for being patient with me! I do apologize for how long this one took me to write but I hope you enjoy this part. 6.5k words

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, mentions of cheating

The Queen's Secret Masterlist

Rory told the King’s Advisor that the Queen was feeling slightly under the weather. She didn’t want him to call the doctor or anything, but just enough of an excuse to explain why Y/n wasn’t coming down to eat with everyone and why she wasn’t going into the garden to paint or read or lie in the grass like he’d gotten used to her doing.

Rory brought the food up to her and Harry rather than having anyone else on staff do it. It would only work for so long, the cover. But it was good enough for the first few days.

Harry’s appetite had completely returned. Not just for food, but for sex. And the Queen was not going to complain. They were free to love, touch, and talk to their heart's content. Their sweet little bubble was bliss and happiness. The Queen didn’t need to leave the confounds of her room when she had her Prince with her. She didn’t want to.

And Harry was out of his mind with delight. They both felt like it was a beautiful dream. This was how life was meant to be. Sweet. Exciting. Fulfilling.

But after three days the Queen knew she needed to start showing her face again. She needed to go back to doing normal things or else the advisor would start to ask questions. And the following week she would have another appointment with a doctor that Edgar selected, followed up with a massage from a therapist on the royal staff. Harry would need to hide elsewhere. So they had some things to talk about. They needed to make realistic plans. They couldn’t just hide in their sweet bubble for all eternity, as wonderful as that sounded.

“This afternoon I’ll be joining the house for dinner. I think it’s best I start getting back to my normal routine,” Y/n spoke as she kissed Harry’s back. He was lying on his stomach nude while the Queen did her morning stretches on the bed next to him. She kneed up to him and hugged his body to her as she let her lips cover the expanse of his back.

Harry put a hand behind himself to grab at her hip and he groaned in protest, “Want you here with me, though. I can’t bear to be away from you my Queen…” Harry teased as he twisted himself around to look at Y/n.

She smiled at him and pushed her fingers into his hair as he rolled to his back so he could see her better.

“Aww… you poor thing. It’ll only be for an hour today. Then tomorrow I need to also go into the garden for a while to do some reading. If I stay cooped up in here with you everyone will begin to wonder what’s going on with me,” she reached to push at his pouting lip and laughed.

Harry stuck his lip out in exaggerated sadness, “Baby… I need you all the time. What will I do without you for an hour?” Harry pulled her down to his chest and sighed.

Harry was mostly joking. He knew this needed to happen. The Queen was right. But he really would have preferred to never leave her presence.

“Well you can read, or take a nap… or sit in the sauna in the bathroom,” Y/n said as she caressed Harry’s cheek with the back of her hand.

Harry turned his face and kissed her palm, “So today already? You can’t wait one more day?”

The Queen pushed herself up closer to Harry so she could kiss his cheek as she shook her head, “Today’s the day, my love.”

And it was the day. Things needed to remain as normal as possible. The Queen wanted to keep Harry around for as long as she could. She knew it couldn’t last forever. This was temporary. The Queen would only be pregnant for so much longer. But for now, this would last as long as she could make it. She would keep him safe and then figure out a way to be with him for good. She couldn’t imagine it any longer to be away from him.

“Harry?” She asked, keeping herself draped over him.

Harry raised his brows, “Mhmm?”

“What do you want after I have her? Do you have a plan? For us?” They had lightly discussed the idea of running off together. But not the details, nor the fallout that would ensue. Harry might not ever see his other children again. Or at least until they were old enough to seek him out themselves later on. Would he be willing to risk that?

Harry sighed and kept his palm on Y/n’s low back, “I don’t have a plan. But I want to be with you. My current arrangement would kill me. I’m only allowed to see the kids once a month. With Gertrude present. For only a few hours. That’s all I get. She said she might allow more one day but…” Harry closed his eyes and clenched his jaw as he considered his words, “I don’t know, my love. I can’t bear to never see them again. But I couldn’t bear to never see you… or her,” he said as he moved his hand toward the side of the Queen’s belly.

 Y/n kept her fingers in his shaggy hair and ran her thumb over his forehead, “Would you want to make a plan? With me?”

Harry opened his eyes and looked at the Queen. He felt so lucky that she wanted him. That she’d finally decided she needed him as much as he needed her. But there was the matter of his other children. It wasn’t an easy choice.

Just as Harry was about to speak Y/n gasped with a big grin and sat up, taking Harry’s palm and placing it at the bottom of her bump, “Feel! She’s moving about!”

Their little growing bean was becoming bigger and stronger. Her foot was kicking and Harry could feel the small movements.

Harry smiled and laughed, “Wow! A dancer!”

When Y/n returned to her room after dinner she was determined to talk to him about coming up with a plan. Figuring out what they could do to stay together. The more she thought about it, the more she realized she’d give it all up for him. Harry was undoubtedly the love of her life. And she was carrying his child and knew she could give him more children.

Sitting down together near the window she began to speak, not knowing where the conversation would go but just feeling that it all needed to be said.

“I want to be with you. Me, you, the baby. More babies even down the road. But I don’t want this life anymore. I want to walk away from the kingdom and everything. I know you're hesitant about not seeing your children with Gertr-“

Harry dragged her into his arms and kissed her mouth. He knew it would be hard and he hadn’t thought of how to make it work but it was all he wanted. He wanted to be with her despite any consequences. He’d find a way to see his kids if he had to but having Y/n as his without the secrecy and sneaking was a dream come true.

She clutched his shirt as he brushed his tongue over her lips and her tongue and he put a hand on her belly, the other going to the back of her neck.

“I want you,” he spoke in panted words between kisses, “with my whole being,” he pulled her into his lap, making her straddle his thighs, “We’ll find a way, my love.”

Y/n knew they could. Her family would be disappointed. She’d been training for the possibility her whole life and now that she was Queen her family was royalty by proxy. They were already well-to-do and had many contacts in high places but having a daughter married to the King had them set for life. Had generations set for life. But she’d give it all away for Harry. And her family would still love her in the end. It wouldn’t be easy but she only wanted him.

When Harry slowed his kisses and his dick was hard under her thigh she moved back and looked at him, “I’m serious. I meant for this to be a real conversation. To get the ball rolling. We only have so much time, Harry.”

He rubbed his palms over her back and bumped his nose to hers, “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just hearing you say that you want all that with me, more babies?” He moved his face back to look at her and take her face in, her lips, the curve of her nose and her eyebrows, the wispy hairs at her forehead, her pretty eyes that he’d been dreaming of for a long time now looking back at him, “I want you. We’ll make this work no matter what. And I know we need to think about how we are gonna make that happen but I don’t know if there’s any great solution other than to just leave together after you have the baby. Me and you. We’ll just walk out hand in hand and drive off to another place until everyone gets used to the idea that it’s us. No matter what we do, if we have a flawless plan or not, this won’t be easy and there will be a lot of neigh-sayers.”

She knew he was right. No matter how perfectly they planned it all out, it would never be a perfect scenario.

“Just walk out hand-in-hand? You’re crazy you know that? Can you imagine? Me carrying the baby and you with your arms full of baby stuff as we just traipse out of here together and get into a car and drive off into the sunset,” she giggled. That certainly sounded nice. It probably wouldn’t go down like that but what could anyone do? It’s not like they could stop either of them. These weren’t the old days when the Queen could be hung for her insolence. The fallout would be political and personal but they wouldn’t be able to be stopped.

“I’m crazy for you. Let me make love to you. I haven’t had enough of you yet, my Queen. My angel,” he spoke before pressing his mouth over hers once again.

So, there was no real plan in place but the Queen knew it could work, knew it could be done however they wanted to make it happen. No one could stop them and that was the prevailing thought. Even the most perfect plan would still never be a perfect plan.

It had been three blissful days since Harry’s arrival and she could barely keep her hands to herself so she let him make love to her. This time they didn’t even move from the couch by the window. Harry pulled his pants down and the Queen lifted her dress and they moved together slowly with lips attached and gasps of I love you and I need you were whispered into the air.

There was nothing like being fucked by her Prince. They allowed themselves hours to fuck. Long strokes and pauses to stare into each other’s eyes. Harry would come inside of her and then he’d fuck her again when he was hard. He’d finger her and eat her out and she’d lay with her head on his lap and lick his cock, savoring the taste of him, of her on him. It was true bliss. The one she dreamed of now in her arms, in her bed. The father of her baby making love to her slowly and sensually until they fell asleep together, wiped out from sex, from emotion, from happiness.

A bath was in order the following morning. They were messy and smelly after their long session the night before. But it was a quick one as they woke up late because they’d gone to bed sometime in the early morning hours and Y/n’s body needed a little more sleep these days. But despite the bath being quick it was sweet with Harry helping her clean herself and his lips kissing her belly and her arms. Her hormones made her exceptionally horny but the happiness she felt with Harry near her was doing things to her libido as well. Things she’d never expected. She couldn’t get him off her mind. At breakfast and then after in the garden she had a hard time reading her book. She could only think of her strong man back in her room with his green eyes that gazed into her soul and his scruffy unshaven face, his hair a little shaggy, growing longer as he hadn’t had a cut. And even with the bit of hair on his face his dimples still showed when he smiled at her.

“Y/n, you’re feeling better today! It’s nice to see you out in the garden again,” Rory winked and sat down next to her.

Closing her book she sighed and leaned back onto her palms in the grass as she looked up at the blue sky, “I’m feeling fabulous today. But I am getting a little tired. Perhaps I’ll go back in soon,” she looked back at her friend with a knowing grin.

It was nice to have Rory on her side. Her best friend and someone she trusted completely.

“Tomorrow is my day off. Do you need me to stay around here? I know it’ll be a little tricky without my help,” Rory whispered. It was true. Without Rory around getting food to Harry would be a little more difficult but her friend deserved her days off like normal. Especially with how much she had helped them.

“Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out. You’ve been more than generous with all of your help.”

It had been a whole week. The Queen's doctor's appointment and massage were scheduled so Harry knew he’d be hidden in the linen closet for quite some time that day.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine,” he kissed her forehead as Rory stood by the door ready to lead Harry to his hiding spot until the coast was clear. The appointments would take place in her room as all of them had before. Plus It was more private.

“I know. I just feel bad that we need to do this,” she spoke as she rubbed her knuckles along his scruffy jaw.

Harry put his hands over hers and kissed her lips, “Worth it.”

Her morning was busy. A quick breakfast and then ushering Harry off into hiding before meeting with her doctor for a check-up followed up by a much-needed massage.

But before her massage was even finished the Queen heard a familiar voice that had her sitting up and with her hand held out to the masseuse, “Hold on…”

She listened closely and heard his voice in the hallway coming closer. Grasping the sheet close to her body she held her breath as the door opened and there he was. Edgar. The King of Manon. Her husband. Whom she hadn’t seen in nearly two months.

“My wife! There she is!” Edgar spoke loudly as he drew closer with Rory and another woman following behind closely.

Y/N dropped her mouth open, not quite sure how to respond. He hadn’t given her any heads up that he was coming. He hadn’t told anyone.

“What are you doing here? I hadn’t expected you,” Y/N spoke as Edgar gave her a friendly side hug before patting her sheet-covered bump.

“I wanted to come and see how things were going. Figured a night away from Manon would be nice. It’s so beautiful out here. And… oh! This is Lulu, my new assistant,” the King waved toward the woman who was standing to his left.

Y/n smiled at the girl who was near her own age, but far less pregnant, or rather, not pregnant at all, “Nice to meet you, Lulu.”

Looking toward Rory, Y/n realized there was something Rory wanted to say. She’d ask her later.

“Oh! Nice to meet you, Queen!”

A nice girl.

Y/n looked at Edgar once again and nodded toward the door, “Do you mind? I’d like to put on some clothes and then we can take tea in the sunroom.”

The Queen got herself dressed as Rory helped her with her buttons, “Lulu seems like a little more than an assistant. I mean, I can’t be sure but I’ve got a pretty good read on people, Y/n.”

Y/n remained silent as she listened. It wouldn’t surprise her if Edgar did decide to take a mistress. It was unusual in the modern kingdom, and if exposed would be a scandal, but it’s not like she could complain. And she wouldn’t anyway. Besides, she was sure the King knew about how she felt about Harry – he was looking the other way so as to keep up appearances with the kingdom and he knew she would as well.

Rory was sent to let Harry know of the situation at the Queen’s request after walking her to the sunroom.

Tea was served shortly after the Queen sat down on the chaise across from the King and Lulu.

“So you’re our new assistant?” Y/n broke the silence in the room as she eyed the pretty girl.

“Yes! Well, Edgar’s assistant,” Lulu turned her head to look at Edgar, “I didn’t know… Am I also to be her assistant as well?”

Edgar chuckled and patted her knee, “Yes, dear. Once she has the baby you’ll be answering to us both. But for now, you’re of more use to me. She’s got Rory at her aid now.”

Y/n nodded at his response. She wasn’t dumb. The girl was looking at Edgar like he was her whole world. The Queen had never even looked at him that way.

It was a relief that Y/n wasn’t asked too many questions. Edgar was clearly distracted by his new plaything. And even though there was not an ounce of jealousy in her bones, the obvious insult was not overlooked. It was likely this was a show on purpose. To see how far he could push it. Edgar was upset about the whole thing, Y/n realized. And he liked having the upper hand. This was his way of subtly showing to the Queen that he was still in charge. That he could do what he wanted if her heart was no longer his. Her heart had never really belonged to the King to begin with.

“Will you be sleeping with me this evening? I can have Rory bring in extra pillows…”

“No. That’s not necessary. I’ll sleep down here in the large suite that overlooks the garden. You need all the space you can get right now,” Edgar gestured to her belly and then looked over at Lulu who appeared to be needing some kind of reassurance.

Y/n pulled her lips into her mouth. So he brought his mistress to the estate and had planned on them sleeping together in the same house as his wife. She was insulted. But she would keep quiet and Edgar knew she would. Her immediate concern was Harry. Having the King here at the same time as Harry was very risky, though luckily Edgar was rather preoccupied with Lulu.

“Splendid. I’ll have a room set for Lulu then. The nice one that looks out the front toward the orchard. No one is staying in that wing.” Y/n was being cheeky. She wanted to see the look on Lulu’s face. She was aware of what was going on but would play dumb if that was what Edgar wanted.

The Queen wasn’t actually concerned about where Lulu stayed. She could go and stay with the King and they could fuck and make a racket for all she cared. She only wanted to get a rise from the girl. See what her response would be to staying in the lonely wing away from Edgar.

“Oh! But, I’m Edgar’s assistant. I should be staying close by. You know… just in case-” she stopped speaking when the king put his hand at her knee to indicate as much.

“What on earth would he need you for while he’s sleeping? I’m sure you don’t need to be on call all night, my dear. Besides, there isn’t another room nearby Edgar’s that’s unoccupied.”

Lulu looked at the King as she worried her lip between her teeth. Y/n was ready to burst out in laughter.

Edgar gave Y/n a sharp look and then spoke, “Lulu will love any room she’s set up in.”

The Queen nodded and smiled and looked down over her belly as she changed the subject, “The doctor has said I’m very healthy. The baby is as well. Everything is going very smoothly. I’m thankful for my health.”

“Good to hear. You look very well. This place seems to have been very good for you. You’re simply glowing.”

Y/n smiled, knowing she was extra relaxed and content lately. But that was mostly due to having Harry with her and the many many orgasms she’d been given since his arrival. Perhaps that was the glow he was talking about.

Rory entered the room and leaned over Y/n speaking quietly, “Harry is back in your room. We’ll have dinner ready in an hour. I’ll bring a tray up to him but if you want to go now to get yourself ready…”

The Queen stood up and looked at the King and Lulu, “Well, I must go and get ready for dinner. I was in the middle of my massage when you two arrived and I haven’t had a chance to freshen up. I’ll see you in an hour. If you’ll excuse me.”

Harry was seated by the window when the Queen entered her room.

“I heard he’s here.”

Y/n nodded and crossed the room to her handsome man, “Yes. With a young woman in tow.”

Harry stood up and pulled her into his arms, “A young woman?”

“Yes. Her name is Lulu. He’ll be preoccupied with her so don’t worry too much. But right now I need a bath.”

Harry drew a bath for her, putting bubbles in the tub, and helping her out of her dress. He took his own clothes off and climbed into the tub behind her.

She leaned into his chest, lying her head back onto his shoulder as they spoke quietly. Hespoke into her ear, his deep slow drawl soothing and sexy all at once.

Harry’s hands roamed over her shoulders and down her arms and around to her belly, “Love that you’re pregnant with my baby and that you’re taking such good care of her. I love you, Y/n.”

She sighed and smiled, placing her hands over Harry’s, “I love it too. Love that this baby is ours.”

Harry kissed her lobe and brushed his hands up over her tits, thumbing at her nipple, and then lowered his mouth to her neck.

She could feel his thick cock behind her, already full, and engorged. Ready for some action. Which seemed to be pretty constant since he’d arrived the week before.

“Harry… we can’t. I need to be downstairs in one piece in twenty minutes.”

He groaned and continued kissing her neck softly. He knew she was right. When they had sex they liked to take their time nowadays. Never wanting to repeat their quick sessions again if they could help it.

Chuckling, Y/n turned her face to capture his lips and lowered her hand behind her back, and began to stroke him slowly, “Wanna come before I go downstairs? I bet I can make you come and I’ll still have time to get dressed and make it to dinner before anyone notices a thing.

“Heeeyy…” Harry protested, “What’s that supposed to mean?” He put his hands at her ribs and poked his fingers in warning.

“It just means you always come so easily for me. Such a good boy, aren’t you?” She was teasing him but she was also pretty sure she could make him come quickly. Turning on her knees and facing him, she sat back onto her haunches and kept stroking him. She brought one of his hands up to her tits to encourage him to play with them.

Harry spread his thighs and leaned back as he used both hands to squeeze and massage at her breasts, “I should be insulted but you feel so good and you’re so fucking hot, Y/n… of course you make me come so easy. M’like a teenager around you,” Harry spoke as he gritted his teeth while Y/n pumped him, the water sloshing around the movement.

Y/n reached behind her and unhooked the tub stop so the water slowly began to drain. She intended on having him come in her mouth. Wanted the pleasure of going down to dinner in front of the King and his mistress, not only carrying Harry’s baby but having his come in her tummy.

Harry gripped the edge of the tub and leaned his head back when he felt himself get close, “Gonna fuck you so good when you get back from dinner,” Harry was panting his words as precome began to pool over his tip.

“I can’t wait,” Y/n grinned at him and then lowered her free hand to his scrotum like she knew he liked and gently massaged.

Harry’s deep moan came out a little too loud, “Shh… my love. Keep quiet.”

Harry clenched his jaw and licked his lips as he looked at his Queen. The water had drained from the tub and he knew that having her on her knees must hurt so he put his hand over hers, “Here,” he said, standing up and helping her along with him to the bed.

She was thankful that he was so thoughtful. Her knees were fine but she was sure another a few minutes and they’d have been sore and bruised.

Harry lay on the bed and Y/n settled between his legs. But this time, the soft surface under her knees made it easier to bend down and take him into her mouth.

He sucked in a sharp breath as he watched the Queen give him head and keep her eyes on his. She was always so good.

And of course, with his balls being stroked gently and his cock being sucked and swallowed around Harry came down her throat. He threw his arm over his mouth and bit into the skin to keep himself quiet. They’d both gotten pretty good at being very quiet.

Harry jerked his hips up and his cock slid deeper down her throat causing her to gag and pull back a little as she swallowed his salty come down.

Harry quickly put his fingers into her hair and helped lift her off, “Sorry, Y/n. Didn’t mean to do that,” he smiled as she laughed and shook her head.

Dinner was roasted vegetables and seared salmon. The King and Lulu drank red wine and Y/n had sparkling mineral water with lemon. The baby was jumping around at the meal and the drink in her belly to which she placed her hand over the movement and smiled to herself. She was close to saying something to Edgar about it but decided she didn’t want to share the lovely moment with him. These things were only for Harry and her good friend Rory nowadays. The King wouldn’t get the privilege.

“Are you feeling better?” Lulu asked as she happily sipped her wine.

Y/n furrowed her brow in confusion, “What do you mean? I’ve felt just wonderful lately.”

“Oh. You were so bright red and flushed when you got here for dinner. I thought you might have overworked yourself. “

Y/n raised her eyebrows and rubbed over her bump as she nodded. She was flushed when she arrived at dinner because she’d just finished off her lover in her mouth and was turned on quite a lot, “Oh. Yes. Sometimes I struggle to put on my clothes. And I’d just had a warm bath so that could be why. But I’m just fine. Thank you so much for your concern.”

“Tomorrow I was thinking of taking Lulu to the Pasteur with the horses that’s up the road. Have you visited since you’ve been here?”

Shaking her head no she spoke, “Of course not. I’m not allowed to leave the estate. Those were your rules.”

Lulu paused her motion as she was about to take a bite and looked from the Queen to Edgar but kept quiet. Yes, that’s right, Lulu. The King has forbidden his pregnant wife from outside contact. That is the kind of man you’re dealing with. Y/n thought to herself smugly.

The dessert was lemon chiffon pie. A request from the Queen. She’d done it on purpose. She knew Edgar despised it.

Another bottle of wine was served for the King and his mistress while Y/n sipped tea and enjoyed the dessert.

“I hope you do find the accommodations to your liking. I’ve never actually slept in the bed you’ll be in, Edgar, but the view of the garden is lovely. I’m sure Lulu will love the view as well. Undoubtedly you already have plans to show her the room anyway before leaving tomorrow.”

The King stared at Y/n and if looks could kill…

“But, anyway… I’m exhausted. The baby would like some rest and I’ve had a long day,” the Queen spoke as she stood up and looked at Lulu, “It was so lovely to meet you. What a wonderful thing you’re doing taking care of Edgar while I’m away. I’m sure he’s as happy as a clam, he sure seems very pleased.” She shifted her sight to Edgar and dropped her smile before turning to head back to her room.

Opening the door to her prince charming was always such a welcoming sight. The man could do no wrong. No matter what he was doing when she walked in. And this time he was doing pushups with his hair pulled back in one of her silk scrunchies. His shirt was off and he was already beginning to sweat. She wondered if he’d done it on purpose, just for her.

He sat back onto his knees with a grin as she strolled over to him and put her hands down to cup his face, tilting his head to look up at her, “Getting a workout in?”

Harry wrapped his strong arms around the back of her thighs, those dimples she adored cutting into his cheeks, pink lips curving up, “Well what does it look like I’m doing? Haven’t really been working out much lately. In fact, no real workouts since I left Manon. Figured I needed to keep up with you a little. You’ll get tired of me otherwise. M’getting’ soft.”

Snorting a laugh as Harry stood up she shook her head, “You? Soft? And I can’t tell that you haven’t worked out. You’re just naturally fit I guess. Good genes and all,” she raised her brows and put her hands on her tummy.

Harry put his hands over hers, “Yeah. Good genes.”

Y/n slid her hands up his chest, feeling his warm skin and muscled pecs on her way up, “So… you promised me a little something earlier,” she raised a brow.

“Oh did I? Hmm… And what was that?”

Y/n pursed her lips and hummed, “I believe your words were something along the lines of you were going to fuck me so good after I get back from dinner.”

Harry laughed and pushed his mouth to hers in a quick smack before pulling away, “Sounds delicious. Let me just take a quick shower-“

“Oh no you don’t. I want you just like this,” she said bringing her hands back over his slightly damp pecs.

Harry pulled his lips into his mouth and walked her backward to the bed as he kept his eyes on hers, “Then take your dress off my Queen. Let me see those big tits.”

His smirk was playful as he pulled his shorts down and started stroking himself. He watched her remove her clothes and his cock plumped up quickly at the sight of his pregnant Queen. When her breasts were freed from her bra he moaned and hastened his hand to pump himself to his tip. She was gorgeous. He’d never grow tired of looking at her, pregnant or not.

She was laid back into the bed gently as Harry moved over her body, his lips on her nipples and her bump and cunt.

“Already soaked, sweet girl,” Harry said running his fingers through her labia.

She nodded quickly, “Yes. Just fuck me, Harry. God, I need your cock or I’m gonna burst.”

Harry chuckled and tilted his head to look down at her, “Well, would hate for the Queen burst. Better give her what she wants.”

Harry laid down on his back and pulled her over him so she could sit and grind herself down on him. She loved hanging onto his pecs as she rode him gently, swaying her hips up and down, rocking her pelvis into his so her clit was being stimulated the whole time.

Harry squeezed her breasts in his hand as she rolled her hips and moaned. It was a delight to have him filling her and touching her. Having him every day for a week was doing wonders for her mental health, and probably her physical health too.

“Fuck, look at you, Y/n. Carrying my baby and riding my cock. You’re mine aren’t you?”

Y/n moaned and bit her lip as she nodded. She had to keep her volume down but Harry always felt so good and the way he talked to her in bed always made her toes curl. She sucked in a sharp breath when he bucked up into her, rocking his hips softly, “Yes. I love you. I’m yours, Harry.”

A small whimper fell from Harry’s mouth as he continued thrusting up into her. She was so wet and gripping his big cock just how he liked. But even with her pussy gripping him like it was, the sound was sloppy as they moved together.

“God I love you. Wanna get you pregnant again right after you have my first baby. Just keep knocking you up, fuck my come into you every night…” his words were strained as he spoke as quietly as possible.

“Yes! God… Fuck, Harry…” She widened her eyes and covered her mouth with one hand, looking at Harry who was chuckling, “shit that was loud.”

“If you want, we can do it like we did yesterday morning when the housekeeper was just in the hallway outside of the room.”

She grinned and lowered her hand from her mouth, “Actually, that sounds fantastic.”

Carefully, she pulled herself up and moved off of Harry, lying on her side as Harry moved in behind to spoon her. He lifted Y/n’s thigh, holding at the soft flesh underneath as he slid his cock back into position. He spoke quietly into her ear as he pushed himself inside of her, “There we go. Gonna fuck you like this, m’love. Make you cream all over my cock again. Ooh, fuck squeezing me so good baby. Just like that…” Harry closed his eyes as he bottomed out and positioned them so he could bring his hand to her mouth to keep her quiet just like they did the day before.

Y/n had been extra needy and she couldn’t wait til evening to have him. So she begged him and promised she’d be quiet even though the housekeeper was cleaning the hallway and the bathroom just feet from where she and Harry were. So he fucked her nice and slow and kept his hand over her mouth so the only noise coming from the room had been the subtle creaking of the bed.

When his palm covered her mouth she moved her own hand down to rub at her clit slowly as Harry plunged into her and pulled out to his tip, rolling his hips just right to get nice and deep.

Harry’s deep voice kept whispering into her ear, “You feel so good. Love how wet you get for me and how you’re so desperate for my cock. Love getting filled up with me don’t you?” His lips brushed against the back of her ear and she was already so far gone and moaning into his hand with abandon. Her noises were muffled as Harry panted and grunted quietly.

Her thighs were soaked. She’d made such a mess of herself once again and the sound of Harry’s cock plunging into her wet pussy was erotic and dirty.

He could feel her fingers brushing against his cock and then his balls as he pushed in further the way her fingers were rubbing at her clit. He knew her hand had to be wet with how everything between them was sticky with her arousal.

“Gonna come on my cock, love? Can feel your pussy clenching around me, your thighs are shaking. Let me feel you, Y/n.”

She was already coming before he finished speaking, her body tensing and her thighs beginning to close but Harry moved his leg between hers to keep her spread apart as he continued fucking into her.

Harry felt his balls tighten with his own orgasm. Her walls were pulsing around him and she was so wet and warm, “I’m gonna fill you up, Y/n. Fffuck, baby…”

Harry jerked his hips, reaching himself as far as his cock could go, and gasped as he moved his hand off the Queen’s mouth and held her thigh so he could use his thighs to continue working himself in and out as her cunt squeezed around him and milked his cock of every last drop of his come.

Moving her hand off her clit she reached around behind her to hold onto his forearm as he slowed his movements and let her leg fall down. Bringing his arm over her moved his hand over her breast and kissed her shoulder, “I love you. Love being with you. Would stay trapped inside this one room for the rest of my life if it meant being with you.”

Y/n laughed and turned her head, moving her body just enough that she could look over her shoulder at him, “Luckily you won’t have to do that. One day soon we’ll be able to be together without having to be trapped in a bedroom. Isn’t it funny that it’s been us in a bedroom alone together since the beginning? Only now we have more time. Can fall asleep next to one another, brush each other’s hair, make love all day long, watch movies, have long conversations… Actually, now that I think about it… being trapped in a room with you is pretty amazing.”

Harry squeezed her hip and pulled her in, lifting his head to kiss her. It was amazing. From the moment he first saw her again a week ago he knew this time would be different. There would be no going back from this. He would do everything he could to make sure that they ended up together.

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[xcalciumx]

Priority | Mitsuri Kanroji x Reader x Obanai Iguro

Word Count | 4.0k

Warnings | Mentions of blood ig. No spoilers. Mentions of Doma (ew.) ANGST i didn’t mean for it to be, but it is what it is. Tears. Drama.

Summary |  After a mission goes wrong, you’re left to battle with something far worse than a demon: your emotions. Or in which Mitsuri and Obanai are kinda in love with you but you’re kinda broken. 

part one | part two

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘

Your ribs trembled as you struggled to stay upright, each inhale more painful than the last. The wracking pain in your lungs gave way to the harrowing coughs leaving your lips as you wobbled precariously on your feet. The coppery tang of blood invaded your nose, ears ringing. 

In front of you, the demon pranced about with his golden fans. 

A particularly harsh cough burst forth from your throat, your hand gripping the nichirin sword in your grasp tighter as you propelled your feet forwards. Gotta keep moving. Can’t stop moving. The dewy grass beneath you turned to dust as you narrowly avoided another one of the demon’s attacks. You took a wide berth around the demon's form, trying to allow time for you to control your breathing. It became glaringly clear that this was no inconvenience for the monster.

“Now, now. Why put up such a fight?” The white-haired beast crooned, his eyes tracking your every move as you came to a stop, legs no longer able to fully support you. “If it’s any consolation, you’re not the first hashira I’ve killed. Oh no, far from the first. You know, you’re very pretty. It would be an honour to carry you with me for eternity…”

A crazed look crept onto the demon's face as you ground your teeth together, shaking your head to clear away the dark vignette bordering your vision. You ignored the throbbing pain in your ankle, forcing yourself not to stop. Every inch of you screamed for reprieve - begged for mercy. But you could not give in. 

You had long since discarded your blood soaked haori, your sword was one strong blow from breaking and your vision was swimming with big black, ink-like blots. 

You knew that one wrong move would spell the end. 

Under the moon's guidance, you sought far into your soul, searching for a way to get out of this alive. Anything. From the deep nothingness of your mind popped a face, much like your own. 

“My darling baby. Don’t stop. Never stop.” You blinked blearily at the person in front of you. Were you hallucinating? Is this what death felt like? Two warm hands cupped your cheeks, and suddenly you felt four years old again. “You need to snap out of it. You’re not going to die - not my girl. Not today.” 

Your mothers voice was ringing in your ears. But as you went to grab for her, she vanished, leaving only the forest and carnage behind. A sob bubbled out of your mouth, wet tears dripping down your cheeks and mixing with your blood like some twisted painting. It had been too long since you had seen your family. Since they had…you vanquished the thought. You must have looked like a wreck as your gaze pinned onto the demon. His eyes widened in a childlike wonderment, his lips curling into a soft frown. 

“Tears? Human emotion -” 

You didn’t let him finish his monologue. Mustering all the strength left in your body, you darted forward, hair whipping everywhere as you recited the forms that you had said a thousand times before. A slicing pain came from your abdomen but you paid it no mind, just like the rest of the cuts and bruises now littering your body. You got closer and closer, each breath hurting like a jagged knife to the heart. But you didn’t stop, couldn’t stop. The final words of your twelfth form ripped from your lips and you barely registered as you swung your sword in an arc above your head. You were so close. The demon's neck was so close. From here, it would be like cutting cheese. It should’ve been like cutting cheese. 

Solid force bashed against your sword, a loud metal THWANG echoing through the silent woods. Blood rained over you like a shower, hands shaking as you severed through the demon’s neck. The momentum drove you forward, and you were left stumbling onto your knees, head smashing against a rocky outcrop. Screaming was impossible, your throat felt so raw and stripped of skin that even muttering became impossible. Your body was on fire, burning you apart from your toes to your scalp. You couldn’t keep up your constant breathing anymore, lungs constricting rapidly inside your shuddering form. Something sharp poked inside of you. Maybe a broken rib or two or six. You could feel that your ankles were both broken, and your arms were like cooked ramen, floppy and useless. 

The stars in the sky dimmed, or maybe that was just your vision slowly fading. Whatever it was, you welcomed the darkness. With the upper moon dead, you could resign yourself to death peacefully, knowing that you’d contributed to the efforts to defeat Muzan Kibitsuji. Or that’s what you thought.

“Oh my, you sure are stubborn.” Said a voice, breaking through the hazy cloud that had settled over your mind. “You nearly got me, you know? Pity that your sword couldn’t keep it up any longer.” 

Terror hugged you like a ghost. He wasn’t dead. You hadn’t killed him. That sound…it had been your sword breaking. It didn’t make sense. You had felt the blood spraying your skin, had felt the sword cutting through his flesh. How…? 

“Don’t be afraid, little one. You will live on through me. Or well, in me.” The demon was giggling to himself, his pants brushing against your corp uniform as you lay broken on the ground. You had lost. This was the end. All your efforts had been null. You should’ve known that you would never truly make it as a demon slayer. The only reason you had made it this far was luck. If the universe hadn’t been playing its stupid tricks, then you would have been massacred like the rest of your family. 

Yeah, so much for being a Hashira. 

Laying on the cold grass, you questioned how you had ever been strong enough to qualify as a pillar. To be considered ‘the best of the best’. What a load of crap. 

You couldn’t feel your legs, or your arms. Something heavy was pressing against your back and suddenly your body was forced to its feet. The arms looped under yours were the only thing keeping you standing. As much as you wanted to fight, you physically couldn’t. Hours had already passed since the upper moon first arrived. What you first thought was a simple mission had escalated far more than you could ever imagine. It was only you and him; everyone else was dead or well on their way. Your heart cried for the junior members of the corps. They hadn’t stood a chance. 

Dark. Everything was so dark. Sharp tingles of pain were creeping up your neck, your body felt like it was being moulded into something else. 

Dark. The dark was here. 

You couldn’t die like this. 

Dark.

Tears were streaming down your face. Were they? Maybe you were just imagining it.

Cold.

You needed to fight. You needed to fight. You needed to fight.

Tired. 

The most you could do was pry a single eye open. 

Through your squinting vision, you saw the large white moon, so far away up in the sky. The trees whistled with the wind, swaying gently in your peripheral. The demon was elsewhere. Behind you? Was that what the pain radiating from your back was? Maybe. Maybe not. You didn’t know. Everything was numb. A voice whispered into the shell of your ear.

“I can hear your heart slowing down…you sure don’t wanna die, huh?” 

You stared forwards, towards the trees. Was there someone there? What was that sound? 

A warm hand clasped yours. You couldn’t see her, but you knew your mum had come back. And she was tugging, tugging. Tugging you away somewhere. You let your eye fall shut again, just wanting this to be over. Your mum was taking you home, everything would be okay. 

No. Something muttered deep in the black depths of your mind. Look. 

“I just want this to stop,” you tried to say back, but your vocal strings were fried, your life was slowly slipping from your grasp. 

The voice came again, this time with a fiery barrage of anger.

Look. 

So you did. 

Your gaze narrow and shaky, you watched as a roaring snake blocked out the moon. And there was pink, pink everywhere. The pressure on your back suddenly disappeared and your body was left to tumble to the ground. This time, nothing could stop your descent into darkness. 

“Mmh,” a groan rumbled in your chest. The ground was rapidly moving beneath you, your arms deadweight on your chest. You were floating - no, someone was carrying you. You tried to move your body, but the flaring pain immediately stopped you.

“We’re nearly there,” a quiet voice mumbled somewhere above you. If you weren’t in so much pain, you would have flinched at the sudden noise. Where were you? What was happening?

Peeking your eyes open, you managed to make out the mismatched coloured eyes of the man carrying you. Something silky slid along your neck. 

You tried to say his name but failed, eyes blinking once, twice and then falling shut again as the darkness returned. 

The next time you woke up, it was to a dimly lit room. A plush pillow was situated under your head and a soft blanket was draped loosely over your lower half. Your whole body ached like a buttcheek on a stick, that was for sure. When you tried to move your legs, nothing happened. Your eyes grew wide, but you winced, your skin feeling tender around your left eye. Huffing a breath, you wiggled your way so that you could sit upright, staring in horror at your legs. Were you…?

“Don't get ahead of yourself. Your legs are in casts for now, they’re just broken.” 

Head whipping to the side, you saw Shinobu situated off to the side of your bed. You gaped like a fish, eyes darting between her and your unresponsive legs. A small smile covered her lips. 

When you tried to speak, your mouth was too dry. You only managed to cough.

The Insect Hashira got the hint, picking up a glass of water from the bedside table. You took it graciously in trembling hands, gulping down the liquid like a dry sponge. It became clear that you were about to choke, and Shinobu did nothing as you did just that, water sputtering from your lips as you hacked up your lungs. When your coughing fit finally ended, you handed the glass back, slumping unceremoniously back onto the pillows. The room stayed silent for a moment, your heavy breathing occupying the space. You were in the Butterfly mansion, that much was clear. However, you didn't know how. The last thing you remember, you were on the cusp of death and hallucinating some wacky-ass snake covered in love hearts. 

“How…” you rasped, making eye contact with Shinobu. “How’d I get here? Am I dead?” 

Shinobu stifled a giggle into her haori, magenta hair flying around as she shook her head no. She smiled at you, getting up from her seated position. 

“Well, Obanai and Mitsuri brought you back here. Poor girl was crying too much to explain what happened and you know how that damn Snake Hashira is.” 

You narrowed your eyes, trying hard to remember the past events. As you did, Shinobu made her way to the door. You raised a brow in question, but she only smiled again and slipped out of the room, silence following in her wake. You groaned. So much for asking questions.

For the next couple of minutes, you dwelled on your thoughts, eyes slowly drooping shut. Just when you thought you would fall back asleep, the door to the room burst open. Loud yelling instantly invaded your ears. 

“Yahhh! You’re awake, oh, you’re awake! Do you know how scared I was? Oh! You were bleeding everywhere and you wouldn’t respond when we were saying your name! I thought you were dead. I thought you…” You could only blink in shock at the love hashira. Her yelling quickly quieted down to sobs as she ran over to wrap her arms around your neck. Gargantuan tears rolled off her face and onto your prone form. “Never do that again, okay! When Obanai and I found you, we thought we were too late. Nyahh, why would you fight an upper moon demon alone you dummy!” The crying girl reached a new crescendo as she started yelling again, her voice causing a new throbbing to start up in the back of your head. 

“Okay, ‘Suri. I’m alright,” you whispered, hoping to soothe her screaming. Two big green eyes stared at you for a moment, a steady stream of tears still rolling from them. She went to open her mouth again but you sighed, reaching a hand to stroke her bubblegum hair back from her face. A red tint now accompanied the wet stains on her cheeks. She bit her lip hard, eyes darting all over your face before she wailed one last time and slumped over you like a cat. 

Internally, you cried at the pressure that she put on your ribs, but covered it with a small smile on your face. 

“Oi, you’re hurting her.” 

Mitsuri leaped off of you in an instant, hands covering her mouth. With her no longer obscuring your view of the room, you could see Obanai stood motionless in the doorway. He quietly entered, closing the door behind him. His dull eyes roved your form for a second, before settling on your face. 

“How do you feel?” 

You bit your lip to stop from saying how you really felt. That was, complete and utter shit. Instead, you managed a small grin, watching as he came to sit on the edge of the bed. Mitsuri followed, climbing up onto the sheets and snuggling up close. 

“Fine. How long have I been out?” 

Mitsuri hung onto your arm for dear life, and you watched as her bottom lip wobbled. 

“Two weeks now. I didn’t know if you were ever gonna wake up.” She said sadly, burrowing her head into the nook of your neck. From the side of your eye, you watched as Obanai rolled his eyes at the girl's words. With your free hand, you patted the love hashira on the back, hoping it gave her some sense of comfort. Craning your neck to the side, you averted your stare back to the Serpent Hashira, knowing he’d at least answer some of your questions without bursting into tears.

“What happened back there? I mean, I thought I was dead for sure.” You ended your words with a small laugh, but he didn’t seem to find them very funny. 

“When Kanroji and I arrived, that demon was absorbing you from behind.” That explained the numbness in your back. “You looked as good as dead, hell you were dead. But somehow we managed to ward him off long enough to grab you and get you back here.” 

He stopped talking, gaze assessing the look on your face. At your prolonged silence, Mitsuri popped her head up to look at your expression. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“You didn’t kill it?” you asked slowly. Next to you, Mitsuri gulped. Obanai just looked at you. “You let it get away?” You insisted, neck cracking as you raised up onto your weak forearms. Mitsuri uttered words of warning but you ignored them, brows pulled tightly together. Your eyes flew between your fellow hashira, lips opening and closing in disbelief. 

“That wasn’t the priority.” Obanai said simply. Your eyes focused on him. Besides you, Mitsuri hummed her agreement. 

“Why?” you growled. “How was that not the priority? I fought that damn demon for hours. Okay? Hours. The two of you together could have beat him no problem, upper moon or not. And what, you just let it get away? This is our job! This is what we do! If we don’t kill these demons when we get the chance, how the hell are we supposed to ever stop Muzan, huh? Ubayashiki won’t be happy to hear this. I’m not happy to hear this!” 

Mitsuri ducked her head, but Obanai’s gaze didn’t waver. 

“Ubayashiki knows.” 

You grit your teeth. “‘He knows’, that’s all you're gonna say? Why not explain your actions then! Explain why you let an upper moon get away when you were in the prime position to kill it!”

The raven haired man stayed silent this time, eyes finally falling to his lap. 

But you weren’t done with this, no way. A heavy pressure bared down on your chest, stopping you from getting full lungfuls of air. All the pain did was remind you of what happened. Remind you that you nearly died. And for what? What did you almost die for, if the demon got away in the end? You said exactly this, watching as the two avoided meeting your eye. 

“I swear to god,” you seethed. “You better tell me that you know where that demon went, or so help me…” 

The silence gave you your answer. 

Mitsuri sat up fully, eyes brimming with fresh tears. She took hold of your hand, bringing it close to her chest.

“We did it for you,” she babbled, tugging on the sleeve of your hospital jacket. “Please don’t be angry.” 

You wrenched your hand away.

“Well I am! I am angry! How can you say -”

“Stop it,” Obanai suddenly snapped. Both Mitsuri and you shot your eyes to where he was now standing up. His gaze had hardened, fists clenched by his side. “Don’t get mad at her. She did nothing wrong. We had two options: kill the demon or save your life. Now, I don’t know if you have some suicidal tendencies or something but we made our decision and we chose you. It’s up to you if you can accept that or not, but there’s no going back, so just stop.”

“Obanai…” Mitsuri whispered but he kept his steely glare directed at you. 

“That’s the problem,” you hissed, recovering from your initial shock. Out of all the hashira, Iguro was one of the quietest - rarely did he raise his voice or get angry like this. Nevermind that though, the beating in your head and the irritation you felt urged you on. “You made a dumb choice. That demon is gonna go and he’s gonna kill hundreds of more people. Why? Because you had a severe lapse in judgement? Is that why, Obanai?” 

Obanai met your words head on, his eyes narrowing. 

“Maybe it was a dumb decision,” he growled. “But it was our decision. Mitsuri and I. We chose you. You were more important in that moment. What about that can’t you understand?” 

“Oh, I understand perfectly fine! I understand that there are two incompetent hashira among us that don’t understand where their priorities should lay. How's that for understanding?” 

Mitsuri gasped quietly next to you but you didn’t dare tear your gaze away from the serpent hashira. If you could have seen his mouth, you swore he’d have been sneering at you in this moment. You watched as he took a few deep breaths, eyes shutting in what looked like exasperation.

“You.” He declared lowly. “You are our priority. And I am not going to apologise for saving you. Nor is Mitsuri. So, get. over. it.” The last words sounded like they were spoken through gritted teeth. Your nostrils flared. 

“I am not your priority.” You argued, eyes blazing. 

“That is not up to you to decide.”

“No? Well I just did! If you think… “ you started, voice beginning to rise. “If you think that my life is more important than taking down Muzan, then you're delusional. You’re crazy!” 

“Do not put words in my mouth!” Obanai hissed back, Kaburamaru copying this sentiment. 

Your eyes shot open as you laughed mockingly. “I’m not putting anything but the truth in your mouth!” 

“Stop it!” Mitsuri cried, now standing as well. “Stop it, the both of you!” 

Both your heads whipped towards the pink haired girl, who now had her hands clasped together as if she were about to get on her knees and beg. 

“Mitsuri,” Obanai said softly, his tone doing a complete 180. “It’s her, not me.” 

It’s a miracle your neck didn’t break at the speed in which you turned to glower at him. Your throat, still not completely healed, scratched with every word. 

“Me? Are you kidding? It’s ME?” You were hysterical at this point.

Obanai didn’t concede. 

“I don’t understand what your problem is. Really. This is pointless. What you’re saying is pointless!”

You were going to murder this man. You were going to have to commit seppuku for the war crimes that you were about to commit against him.

“Why!” You finally exploded. “I just want to know why you think saving me was your priority! Especially, when we both know that the right thing to do would’ve been to ditch me and kill that son-of-a bitch!”

This time, Obanai didn’t respond. You were panting, glare prominent on your face. Your ribs were hurting and all the shouting hadn’t helped the headache you were sporting. Off to the side, Mitsuri whimpered.

“Tell her, Obanai,” she murmured. He glared at her, then at you.

“No.” He said.

“Tell her,” she urged again. 

You could quickly feel the rage swelling in your belly.

“Tell me what?” you croaked, voice ran raw. You wanted to shout and scream and demand answers, but you were so tired. 

Obanai stayed quiet. Your eyes darted to Mitsuri now, who squeaked at whatever she saw in your gaze. Her hands fumbled nervously with the front of her uniform, teeth gnawing on her bottom lip. She shot a look at Obanai.

“We, um…” she started. On your other side, Obanai said something quietly. You didn’t hear, but Mitsuri clearly did as she grew a determined look on her face. 

“‘Suri…”  You warned.

No one spoke for a moment, before…

“We love you!” Mitsuri wailed, volume going unchecked as her face turned as red as hot coal. 

You blinked, suddenly stumped for words. “Huh, you mean…Huh?” 

Mitsuri started to cry again for whatever reason. You could only stare dumbly.

“I love you,” Mitsuri babbled between sobs. “He loves you too but he won’t say it!” She continued to cry. 

When you looked back at Obanai, he refused to meet your eye. 

A sudden knock on the door shocked you out of your stupor. Shinobu peeked her head inside, but immediately stopped as she took in all of your faces. Without a word, she quickly retreated, door slamming shut.

The room went dead silent, aside from Mitsuri’s quiet sniffles as she tried to gain control over her emotions. 

Slowly, you started to speak, directing your words at Obanai as you did.

“Tell me that’s not true. It’s just Mitsuri being Mitsuri, right? Right.” He still didn’t look at you, silently shaking his head. You felt your chin wobble. “Don’t say that,” you protested. “Don’t say that!” You grew angry again, poking a finger into the snake pillar's chest. Your body turned to Mitsuri. “‘Suri you don’t mean that. Don’t say that, please. Please.” 

She only smiled sadly. One of her hands reached out as if to comfort you, but you backed away into the pillow behind you. Your eyes widened in horror. 

“Get out,” you crowed. “Get out, now!” 

“What?” Mitsuri whispered.

“Get out of my room.” You stated, curling in on yourself. Mitsuri stepped forward, looking as though she didn’t know what to do with herself. Her eyes stared into yours, but it was like she wasn’t actually seeing you. 

“You don’t mean that. You’re just tired, you need time to recover. You don’t… After everything, you can’t possibly mean to say…” 

You choked on a sob, pulling the blankets higher over you. Bound by the cast, you did what you could to turn away from the both of them. Mitsuri said your name one last time but you covered your ears, tears finally springing into your eyes. 

“Get out…” you murmured, too tired to do anything. Too tired to beg or yell or cry. 

You heard as Obanai moved, saying something quietly to Mitsuri. Footsteps, then the door to your room closed and you were left all alone again. 

Alone.

Maybe that’s all you’d ever be. 

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Do we want a part two to this? I kinda do lol

part two is out!!

[bettyfrommars]

S3, %, 🧡

MegmegmegMEGGGGG niche nightmarescape just for you my love

Your Person is Nightmare Steve

Your Place is a Drive-In Theater

Your Thing is a Halloween Mask

pick your poison

18+ONLY, gore, nightmares, blood, terror, star-crossed lovers, gender neutral reader but the pronouns she/her are mentioned in song lyrics. These blurbs are rattled out quickly from head to throttle, so I hope there aren't too many errors.

word count: 747

He was working as a hotdog vendor when he spotted you that night. Steve pushed the paper devil mask up into his thick mess of hair to get a better look, palming a Wonder bread bun with a messy squirt of mustard.

His mask attached to a modest string, tied in a bow at the back of his head, but yours was latex, a white skull with a ghoul nose and several blacked-out teeth.

Everyone had to wear a mask that night, those were the unspoken rules. Others were coming out of the corn fields in groups, filtering in to find a vacant vehicle to claim. You followed the crowd as if you knew what you were doing, shuffling along under a night sky that burned several shades of twilight blue.

There were green witches and zombies, black cats with yellow eyes, and evil clows with big hair and tiny hats. One had the head of a bird, a raven maybe, and it occurred to you that perhaps that was their real head, though it didn't seem polite to ask.

The one in the devil mask behind the food cart held a limp hotdog on a fork up in the air as if to offer it to you, dripping water, but you just kept walking, pretending not to notice him out of the corner of your vision.

The golden oldie Runaway by Del Shannon crackled out of the speakers, and once it ended, it started all over again. The scattered automobiles might've also been the sight of a junkyard, the way they were all rusted and riddled with bullet holes. Much of the interior was ripped or gutted, the grass dusted with shards of broken glass that nestled there like glitter or fallen stars.

There was condensation inside the confines of your disguise, and you peeled up the bottom to sneak a quick breath. The theater screen loomed blank in the sky, backed by endless, creeping night.

"It's almost time," the devil said. He was in front of you, blocking the aisle toward the screen. He pushed the mask up into his hair so that you could see his face.

"Time for what?" Your heart stuttered at the familiar chocolate suede of his eyes.

He leaned in, whispering. "Time to get out of here, if you know what I mean."

You didn't, but okay.

He turned to lead the way and you followed, up the hay loft ladder to the roof of the projection house. Runaway was on another cycle as Steve took your hand to help you along the ledge, gesturing for you to sit.

A countdown flickered on the screen, but the music was till blaring.

tears are fallin' and I feel the pain

wishin' you were here by me

to end this misery

"I hope you enjoy the show," his voice was different, deeper. Steve squeezed your hand, and you craned your neck to peer down through the eye holes to see the end product of his fingers intertwined with yours.

Once golden skin was now the color of red poppies, you followed the arm up to broad, bare shoulders, a sharp jawline, and two horns that were thick enough to belong to a bull.

A confident smile slashed his mouth to show pointed teeth, and the whites of his eyes were black as coal.

He was no longer wearing a mask. He was the devil.

I wonder

I wo-wo-wo-wo wonder

why why-why-why-why-why

she ran away...

The countdown on the screen ended and was replaced by the flickering scene of a row of cloaked figures in a green pasture with hoods pulled down to hide their faces. If they even had faces.

They stood eerily still for a long while, looming over the gathered patrons in their junkyard vehicles.

But then they were moving, down to the edge of the frame and into the crowd like melting shadows.

People were being dragged from their cars; people were screaming.

People were getting their souls sucked from their meat suits, crumbling to the ground with Jello limbs.

The two of you tilted your heads at the same time to watch blood splatter the now empty pasture scene on the screen.

And I wonder

where she will stay

my little runaway

I run-run-run-run runaway

"Have you thought about where you want to go next?" The devil asked.

You sighed, thinking. More shrieks from down below, more chaos erupting.

"I've always wanted to see Paris."

[forasecondtherewedwon]

stop-motion poetry

Fandom: Masters of the Air Rating: T Word Count: 1295

Summary: the irony of loneliness / is we all feel it / at the same time - Rupi Kaur (Italicized passages are also Rupi Kaur poems.)

i tried to find it but there was no answer at the end of the last conversation

Everywhere was empty, like a museum. Crosby’s skittish fingers kept tracing around inside his pocket, and he finally realized what he was absent-mindedly feeling for: the snow globe.

In his other pocket, he had the intercepted letter. He was treating those words as Bubbles’ last to him, though… would Bubbles have shown him the letter? Maybe, if Crosby had asked. Maybe, because Bubbles might feel he was coming between Crosby and Jean if he didn’t. He could be funny like that. Whenever Jean came up, Bubbles made Crosby feel like Wendy regarded by the Lost Boys—an adult among children.

Wouldn’t you like to know, Bubbles had shot back when Crosby’d repeated the name of the plane. Suddenly, Crosby was the clueless one, Bubbles with the inside baseball on the mystery of women, high on the promise of She’s Gonna. Now, Crosby wasn’t so sure Bubbles was correct; why should he have liked to know? He had no inclination to know what Bubbles knew. What the sky looked like when all the planes in it were falling. Whether you felt an explosion that happened so close, so fast. How long it took to die from a thing like that. Nope, Crosby wasn’t interested.

He preferred to remember Bubbles the way he remembered the snow globe: a little something to carry with him everywhere he went. When the world slanted, something to be plucked from the tilt and, once held, leveled.

—

i hardened under the last loss. it took something human out of me. i used to be so deeply emotional i’d crumble on demand. but now the water has made its exit. of course i care about the ones around me. i’m just struggling to show it. a wall is getting in the way. i used to dream of being so strong nothing could shake me. now. i am. so strong. that nothing shakes me. and all i dream is to soften.

She recalled that he’d had too much to carry, heavy kit bag slung over his shoulder, but when he’d taken the provisions she’d passed him, he’d managed not to crush the donut against the mug of coffee he’d held in the same hand. Herbert had been gentle, that was what Helen recalled. Forward, yes. Obvious, yes—but gentle.

Some of them hadn’t taken the donut, but just about all of them took the coffee, unless they were very young and shied from the bitterness. There had been others before Herbert. Men who’d crossed a room to talk to her, men who’d announced their name and stuck out their hand. Helen had felt their palms on the small of her back when they’d danced. She’d seen their faces up-close, with the bravado gone, had understood herself an as object of lust or a tap on their watch, reminding them time might be running out. Sometimes, she’d only danced with them through words. Sometimes they hadn’t come back from the mission, and she’d wished she’d been kinder.

It was good though, that she and Herbert hadn’t kissed on the mouth. It meant she couldn’t miss that feeling. Missing the smile he’d given her the morning they flew out was plenty hard. Missing the scent of the oil he’d used in his hair, the rosy smudge of lipstick she’d left on his jaw during their dance.

Ever since Major Rosenthal had told her, since he’d said Lieutenant Nash had gone down, Helen’s chest had been a crater she covered over with smiles like old boards, stiff and creaking, threatening to cave in. She felt guilt, because Herbert had called her “Helen of Troy.” She hadn’t sent them, but she was too smart and too good at punishing herself not to figure that she had, in a way, launched those ships of the air. She represented the innocent, to them. Sisters and sweethearts. To fight for her or something like her, they would all go, go by the hundreds. One less, now.

At the next dance, Helen decided, marooned on the grass by Rosenthal, she would shake her head and stay at the table.

—

yesterday when i woke up the sun fell to the ground and rolled away flowers beheaded themselves all that’s left alive here is me and i barely feel like living

Dawn came. Bucky wasn’t convinced the sun came with it. Through the windscreen and the cigarette smoke trapped in the cockpit, the sky changed colour, definitely paler than night as it arrived before his itchy eyes, but if there was light, he didn’t register it. Like a telephone call in another room, it wasn’t for him.

He wanted to drink himself into the plane. Become so liquid that the seat absorbed him, that a thin trickle of whatever was left of him dribbled into the fuel tank. Then he could be burnt up. Sic transit Major Egan: He was an unpredictable drunk, and a more successful flirt than he’d deserved to be. He’d had a best friend, once. That man—that better man—was gone and nobody was lookin’ for him. Bucky was looking pretty damn hard in the bottom of this flask, but so far, no luck.

The horizon turned blue, which was bullshit. Blue was for eyes. Bucky laughed harshly at nature’s mistake.

“Hey, Curt,” he called over his shoulder, loose grin sliding all over his mouth. “Curt!”

But that had been a different today-is-tomorrow. Bucky blinked more tears back into his eyes, like he’d been doing all night. His smile withered. Too much water. Not enough light.

—

in order to fall asleep i have to imagine your body crooked behind mine spoon ladled into spoon till i can hear your breath i have to recite your name till you answer and we have a conversation only then can my mind drift off to sleep

It was usually that Curt’s body did what his mind would’ve urged him not to if it’d been paying attention. As the plane swept towards the ground and his body, shoved back against the pilot’s seat, couldn’t slow the descent, his mind took the controls and slowed time. He began to be able to separate the breaths in his rapid panting. He could think of stuff that wasn’t this, climb into the top turret of his own brain. He could see that it was a stupid fuckin’ idea to try to land a Fort with a belly full of bombs while his hands distantly and futilely kept trying to pull up and slow the glide. His body knew how it ended: in an orange ball, fire round as a cloud. His mind reached out and tugged up another reality like a blanket.

A blue hour, walking the wing, the air damp and cool, but it didn’t matter because he was warm from drinking, but not so much drinking that he couldn’t strike a taunting Bucky hard and sharp with a clean, swift hook, but not so hard and sharp that Bucky didn’t still smile after it connected, but not such a big smile that Curt was in danger of thinking it was real. The smile. The memory.

The plane battered through the trees.

“Oh god.”

He tugged up another place, another time. Dickie with a whole, smooth face. Buck’s voice coming down the line, callin’ Curt Bucky’s little spoon. Smilin’. Sleeping in a Scottish bed that smelled like wool and the fire that’d burnt down in the hearth. He’d been wound up so tight after the crash-landing, scoring those rows of cabbages from the earth. He hadn’t thought he’d be able to surrender to anyone, ever, including sleep, but sleep had come eventually.

“DICKIE—”

Yes, sleep had come.

[coltrainbat]

HI, could you write about frank adler being a single (again) uncle and meets a new female bartender, reader in his usual bar. Both of them hit it off and started dating for about two months. frank introduced her to his niece, mary

Put it on my Tab

Making his way into his usual, Fergs, on a quiet Thursday night, Frank didn’t expect anything different. Place still looked the same; dimly lit with neon bar signs covering the walls and the smell of old beer. It felt like a second home, predictable, familiar and warm (due to the fact that they haven’t gotten that goddamn AC fixed). He settled onto the counter, head lowered waiting for his usual to appear magically in front of him like always.

“What can I getcha?” The voice wasnt from the usual gritty bar manager. For one it was feminine, young and perky. 

Frank couldn’t help his eyebrows raising at the sight of you. Sure they’ve hired pretty girls before but they usually didn’t last the week trying to keep up with demand while also hindering the advances of regulars. So how a beautiful <your hair colour> in a white tank top and denim short shorts was still here was a mystery to Frank. 

“Umm yeah hi can I just get umm.. just a..” he stumbled on his words trying to avoid your questioning gaze. 

“A beer?”

“Yeah that.” Frank gave a flat smile.

You undid the cap on the edge of the bar, Frank holding out his hand expectantly but you held the bottle away from him, holding it just above your shoulder. Raising an eyebrow expectantly.

“Please?” Frank said hesitantly.

“And…” You slowly inched it towards the bar top. 

“Thank you.” It was becoming increasingly clear to him how you have survived here. You don’t put up with shit.

You placed the beer in front of him “Manners..” you trailed 

“Maketh a man. William Horman.”

“Yes.” You smiled down at him from the bar.

“What are you doing here?” He said outwardly.

“Working.”

“Oh I see that. I meant what is someone like YOU doing HERE?" 

“What is someone like me… exactly?” You placed your palms on the bar, leaning into him closer. 

He took a long swig of his drink. Sighing in contentment at the taste.

“Too smart to be a bar maid, too classy for Coors beer and way too pretty for a place like this.” 

You looked around at the empty bar with a few drunk stragglers. Taking the beer from his hands you took a long swing. “I am never too good for Coors beer.” 

Frank let out a low whistle “That’s good to know.” 

“I’m Frank by the way.” He held out his hand for you to shake.

“Y/N.” You shook his hand.

“Nice to meet you.” He smirked

“Likewise.” You bit your bottom lip. 

“So when do you get off?” He smirked devilishy.

“So she’s not like other kids.” Frank looked over at you, peering over his sunglasses.

“What do you considered “other kids”…” 

“She spends a lot of time with adults so she talks a bit differently.”

You shrug “I’m sure she’s fine, she’s got a good uncle.” He grabbed your hand, placing it under his as he moved the gear shift. 

“She just takes a while to warm up to people so I just don’t want you to be discouraged.” 

“Frank, she doesn’t bite.” You waved him off. 

“No she grew out of that 2 years ago.” He joked with you.

He pulled into the driveway of their humble abode. Paint falling off the rackety old porch framed by the half dead grass from a hot blazing summer. You loved it. It was Frank, imperfect yet homey.

You got out of his truck and waited for him to lead towards the screen door with an obvious hole that had been scratched out by a cat desperate to decide when and where they go.

Hearing the sound of car doors being shut, Roberta made her way out. Taking one look at you, she stopped in her tracks, placing a

hand on her hip. 

“Well my goodness you are prettier than he described.”

“Why thank you Miss Taylor.” You let her embrace you in warm tight hug.

Her chin resting on your shoulder, she raised her eyes in excitement at Frank behind you. 

“Alright break it up you two.” He pulled you back into his side. 

“Thanks for watching her.” He gave the woman a warm smile. 

“Anytime, now I gotta go but it was lovely to meet you and hey don’t take what she says to heart… she takes a while to warm up.”

“I’ve been told! Hopefully this goes well and I’ll be seeing more of you.” She gave you and Frank both a quick kiss to the cheek. 

“You ready?” He whispered in your ear as you both stood in front of the door separating you from your make or break meeting.

You readjusted your bag strap on your shoulder, taking a deep breath “Ready.” With that he pushed open the screen. 

“Mary… I’m home. We’ve got company.” 

You both walked into the living room where the young girl sat, mindlessly stacking lego blocks on the floor, ignoring the calls of her uncle. 

“Hi Mary, I’m-“ You started to introduce yourself in your high pitched little kid voice. 

“Did he pick you up at Fergs?” She said dryly. 

“Close! I work at Fergs.” You gave a tense smile.

“That’s a stark change isn’t it Frank?”

“Mary!” He scolded.

You placed your hand on his shoulder mouthing it’s okay as you walked a little closer towards her. 

“Frank said you’re pretty smart.”

“I’ve gotten “baby Einstein” once or twice.” She replied, not looking up from the floor. 

“I was thinking more Hypatia.” She stopped her movements, looking up at you for the first time quizzically. 

“Whose that?”

“Oh you don’t know who Hypatia was?” You said in faux shock. 

She shook her head. 

“Huh… well for one she was a girl…” You stalked towards her, plopping down on the mat beside her. 

Pulling your legs up to your chest, hugging your knees. Her lack of running away was a good start so you went on…

“She was a mathematician in ancient Egypt back in a time were only men were allowed to do math.”

“Women can do math too!” She piped up, brows furrowed. 

“Oh I agree! Well she figured out a way for ships to navigate and I think I have… oh here it is!” You reached into your bag, pulling out a thick book on the ancient academic that you had secretly brought for her. 

It was brand new with a glossy cover and you threw it around your trailer a couple of times beforehand to make it look worn and read. You had read it of course but maths wasn’t really your thing, the history of women on the other hand… you were always down. 

“Can I please see?” She looked up at you with doe eyes, biting her bottom lip, desperate to flick through the pages.

“Yeah you can have it. I already read it. I’m onto Beyond Good and Evil now.” 

“By Friedrich Nietzsche?” She smiled at the common interest found.

You nodded, eyes widened at her. 

She looked up at Frank; “I like this one.” 

He leaned against the doorway, watching you two in amazement. No one got Mary besides him and Roberta but now he’s starting to think that no one had tried like you. No one bothered to listen when he’d tell them that talk of Barbies and pink nail polish didnt get her interested. That she was pulling thick academia books from the shelf at age 4, desperate to absorb the knowledge they held. How she wanted to be talked to like an equal or better yet be given the materials to have what she so desperately craved. Have someone listen, guide her, talk to her as she was and not try and dumb things down. And here you were, making her eyes light up and hanging on your every word. 

“Good. I’ll leave you two to it then I guess.” He said simply tapping the frame before making his way into the kitchen to prepare his two girls a snack. Smiling like an idiot. Yeah you were a keeper. 

[konjaku]

長葉蠅毒草[Nagabahaedokusō] Phryma oblongifolia

長[Naga] : Long

葉[-ba|Ha] : Leaf

蠅[Hae] : Fly; also written as 蝿

毒[Doku] : Poison

草[Sō] : Grass, herb

It grows in the shade of bushes, woods etc. The flowers, about six to seven millimeters long, turn upward immediately after flowering and gradually turn downward. Its seeds are a kind of so-called ひっつき虫[Hittsuki-mushi](Clinging bug) that attaches to the clothing of humans and hairs and of animals.

蠅毒草 is so named because the whole plant is poisonous and the toxic components of the rhizome are used to make raw materials for flypaper. It is also known as 蠅取草[Haetorisō](Grass for catching flies). 取る[Toru] means to take, to catch or to capture.

Incidentally, うるさい[urusai], meaning annoying, is usually written in hiragana, when in kanji, is written as 煩い, and often as 五月蠅い|五月蝿い. 五月[Gogatsu] means May. And, there is a saying that goes, 頭の(-��の-)蠅を追え[Atama no (ue no) hae wo oe](Chase the fly over your head), which means that before meddling with others, deal with your own problem first.

[earenwen-leafwhisper]

Incertitudes

----Masterlist----"Rules" for request----

Part 1

Pairing : Daemon x chubby fem reader, Nymor Martell (oc) x chubby fem reader

Summer : Y/n tries to stay focused on her engagement although troubled by Daemon’s statement.

Trigger warning : English is not my native language. I desperately need a beta reader.

Author notes : Hi, "incertitudes" is uncertainties in french, if you don't want to Google translation

The sound of the wind shook the canvas of the tents, a smell of dry earth, steel and flower floated in the air, very few people passed through the alleys of the tents, Sir Gervesot your sworn shield was placed about thirty meters from you two and watched your exchange on his guard. The sun was shining in the sky, under other circumstances you probably would have enjoyed this moment. But it was the trembling hands, your buzzing ears and your heart pounding so hard, that you felt the beats in your temples, that you reflected on the words of Daemon.

"You say you love me." You just whispered his words.

"Yes, of all my being."

"What do you know about love?! You hurt my fiance! He did nothing to you! I would never have assaulted one of the women you sleep with! That’s not love!" A fury unknown to you until then had just shown his nose.

"What do you know about love?"

"Because I love you! I was ready to turn the page that wasn’t even written, I would have let you love another... I’d rather be unhappy and see you happy with another. That’s love... As long as the other is happy, that’s all that matters..."

"Do you think you’re happy with this prince? He won’t bring you everything I can give you."

"I don’t know if I would be in the future, but a throne is not what I want..."

"What do you want?"

"Faithfulness? Loyalty?... I don’t know, but not all the riches of the world... They’re worthless if... If you’re afraid of losing the person you love to someone else..."

Tears were running down your cheeks, you were angry with the prince and at the same time, a part of you was screaming that you finally had what you wanted. Daemon was initially frustrated with your response, but as you began to cry, a form of guilt began to gnaw at him. The prince raised his hands to try to hold you in his arms, but you stepped back, raising your arms to avoid any physical contact. Your sworn shield by your cries had approached, hand on the pommel of his sword, the cracking of branches and grass indicated to you that it was close.

"Y/n..."

"No Daemon, I... I can’t... I’m engaged now... I can’t do this to my family."

Daemon watched you slowly recede, like a wild animal in front of a predator, his own heart pounding, your look showed how badly you were wounded, the prince himself was no longer sure of what he had to do, he could not let you go like that. He had to make up for it, if it wasn’t beating that "Nymor" in a tournament, he had to find another way to win you back. He was heartbroken when he saw you leaving in the direction of your fiancé’s tent, but at the same time, another fire began to burn in him, much stronger for you.

---

The tent of the Martell house was a flamboyant yellow outside but a more ochre yellow inside, some furniture was placed there, a table where several chairs were placed, several arms racks and armor stand, wooden pillars maintained the roof of the tent was visible and locations for wrought iron lamps were embedded in it. A silk curtain separated the tent in two, you looked around you, looking for Nymor, Sir Gervesot remained at the entrance of the tent, ready to intercept any incoming people.

You walked quickly towards the curtain, placed one of your hands on it, moved the piece of cloth on the cotton, heard a sound of movement and a grunt.

"This have to stop, leave me alone."

"Nymor..."

"Y/n? What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be enjoying the festivities?"

"I was worried about you."

Nymor, who was lying on a bunk, got up hearing you. His curly hair was mixed and ruffled, his face had small wounds on the right corner of his head, all had been treated by the mestres, none would leave scars. His armor was on the ground beside the shirt he was wearing underneath, moving everything by the mestres. The top of his body was covered with a thin, simple shirt, without frills.

The Prince of Dorne raised his arms inviting you to approach, it is in a few pat that you run away in the arms of your fiancé, a weight weighing on your shoulders began to fall, you placed your arms around his torso, clutching him like a life buoy. Nymor began to gently stroke your back with one hand.

"I... I saw Daemon..."

You looked up, watching Nymor’s reactions, but he seemed thoughtful, you continued.

"We talked, I think... he... he explained his point of view to me... and finally told me that he loves me..." You felt Nymor’s hands clench against you. "I told her it wasn’t love... You don’t hurt the other for love..."

"Do you love him?" Nymor looked at you with her brown eyes.

'It’s not even six moon, but I... I think part of me always have him in mind, even in a tiny way. I’m sure you still have a part of your last love in you."

"That is true."

Nymor laid his head against yours, gently kissing your forehead. Prince Targaryen did not seem to be a person abandoning so easily, the goals he had set, the dornish prince, understood that your stay at King’s Landing had to be shortened, the faster you will go to Dorne and the faster, Daemon would stop in his shenanigans. A war with Dornes was not permitted for the crown, and this both princes were concise about, but only one was impulsive enough to trigger it. You stayed several hours beside Nymor, when he asked what had happened during the tournament, you explained to him that you had no heart to watch. You felt relaxed near Nymor, much more than with Daemon, in the presence of the Targaryen, a part of you was always vigilant, not of fear, just instinctive.

When night came, you proposed to the dornish prince to accompany you to the red keep, which he quickly accepted. Although his ego had been wounded in the face of his defeat. Your presence had appeased him. It is hand in hand, Sir Gervesot follow you, that you would go to the castle, which had several windows illuminated by the light of the torches. The light in the banquet hall was most flamboyant. You looked at Nymor and then at the banquet hall.

"Why not eat together? I don’t want to be around so many people."

"That’s a great idea."

With a glance and a smiling accomplice, you continued to walk, without suspecting that several knights in the golden cape were looking towards you. One of them goes on a brisk march through the tents, entering the largest and darkest of them. A most suffocating heat reigned there.

"My prince, they have returned to the castle."

---

The next morning, Anne came to help you prepare for the second day of jousting. Although Nymor had lost, you made the decision to dress in the color of the house Martell, a few days before, the dornish prince had offered you a sumptuous dress of a vibrant yellow, suns were placed there in small golden touch, your décolleter flattered your chest in its cut, the bottom of the dress was long the almost invisible folds allowed to have amplitude in your movements. There were no long sleeves or short sleeves, just two strips of fabric running through your shoulders leaving them bare. Such a dress was rare at King’s Landing, almost non-existent, only people from Dorne or Essos wore it. You complimented your outfit with a golden jewel where your favorite gemstone was in the center and a golden bracelet decorate with a sixteen-pointed sun.

You were supposed to have breakfast with your parents and Nymor, but Anne’s arrival changed your morning plans somewhat. King Viserys and Queen Aemma wished to discuss at breakfast and added themselves to the table. It bothered you a little bit, but you breathe quietly, trying to relax before you leave your apartments.

In the hallway leading to the dining room, you met Nymor, her short and curly black hair was stylized in a natural way, her curls falling in harmony, her dark brown eyes were lightened by the rays of the sun, giving her an almost mystical look. The wounds on his face were barely visible, from a distance his olive skin was almost read, it is by approaching him to say hello that you saw the wounds. He was dressed in a pink tunic with finely detailed floral motifs, the borders of the tunic was decorated with another fabric, the color of a yellow ochre also covered with floral motif. Nymor wore a black leather belt, where straps held the sheath of his sword, fine chains were hanging decorating with golden sun. His pants were very dark brown, in a very resistant fabric. The prince took your hand and kissed you, before offering you his arm and continuing your way.

"Hello Y/n, you are most radiant."

"Hello Nymor, I return your compliment."

You smiled at the prince, your heart beating quickly, you felt a slight warmth rising in your body. Nymor’s sweet voice and her courtesy always managed to remove your sincere smiles. Daemon could do it, too, but you had to forget about it, the good of your home depended on it.

"In Dorne you will no longer need to have a knight. I will not let anything happen to you and the old palace is very nice and very well protected.”

Nymor looked behind you, casting a glance at Sir Gervesot, you gently shook your head, smiling in a corner, thinking that he had recovered from his pride. You did not have time to answer him that you arrived at the doors of the dining room, open, surrounded by two knights post to the guard. The interior was visible, you could see some serving finishing the preparations, the wine pitchers placed on the large table, Nymor looked at you, whispered sweet words to your ear before entering the room.

The dining room was lit by sunlight, a large window allowed to see the roofs of red orange tiles of the city of King’s landing. Tapestries were hung on the walls and carpets placed on the floor. Nymor had pulled your chair out of gallantry before sitting to your right. You placed one hand in his, waiting for the last guests to arrive.

It was first your parents who arrived, wearing the colors of your house, followed a few minutes later by the king and his wife. You got up at the king’s arrival, you let go of Nymor’s hand at that moment. The modesty that reigned in the castle contrasted with the words of several lords and even the king. Protocol was protocol, even though it might seem absurd to you.

---

The breakfast went without a hitch, Queen Aemma congratulating you on this future union, rejoicing in the complicity she had seen between you and Nymor. Viserys spoke much more with your father, talking about the wedding preparations, the wedding night, the future festivities related to future births. Your mother was talking to Aemma and Nymor, giving you a few glances. A few laughs were exchanged when Nymor recounted life at the Sunspear and the day when his little brother Qyle fell into the summer sea water escaping the nanny surveillance. If the atmosphere was warm, it quickly fell to the mention of a person.

King Viserys, between a sip of wine and a piece of lard, spoke in an unbearable tone.

"After your marriage, Daemon may finally leave you alone, Lady Y/n. Yesterday’s demonstration at the joust meant disproportional doubt." He stared at Nymor. "I’m sorry he behaved like that yesterday."

You put your right hand on Nymor’s left thigh, the prince’s touch reassured you. As for Nymor, he was tense, with a tight smile he thanked the king. You might have thought that everything that happened in the red keep was meant for you to think about Daemon, that it was the scrolls that were always present, that haunted you at night, the colors of the Targaryen house, the gardens and the library where you were often found alone and now the king himself.

The rest of the breakfast happened slowly for you, you are the only comfort being the looks of your mother and the presence of the prince of Dorne.

---

The birds were singing, the cries of the crowd came to see the continuation of the jousting tournament, made you smile slightly, your parents and you had resumed your places, Nymor had settled on the empty seat to your right. During the fighting, he spoke to you in the ear, gently caressing your hand, the fighting was intense, several knights from the noble houses of Dornes had managed to arrive there, your fiancé, explained to you what were his houses, Adding a few little gossip of all kinds, making you laugh part time. You also went on to explain the gossip coming from the corridors of the castle, explaining the noble or rare warrior reasons for their titles. Several nobles present in the bleachers opposite the royal bleachers, noticed the complicity linking you.

But your bubble was shattered upon the arrival of a knight his spear bearing your favor. Nymor shook your hand, watching the prince march to his starting point. Surprisingly, there was no look towards the stands, no smile. Just, A warrior ready to fight. His fighting style had not changed since the day before, he was always aggressive, maybe less than in his fight with Nymor, but enough to bring down most of his opponents on the first try.

His toughest opponent was a knight fighting for House Stark, both were falling off their horses and fighting with swords. The two knights had managed to make it to the final round and neither participant had decided to lose. The sword strokes were raping, pieces of armor were torn from where to sink, Daemon’s helmet had flown during an attack, miraculously for him without injuring him leaving his long silvery hair flying in the wind moving with a supple movement on each dodge.

His opponent rushed towards him, taking him by surprise, and he was thrown to the ground. While he wanted to give her a sword stroke, the knight gave her a blow in the wrist, the prince released Dark sister under a moan of pain.

On the ground, Daemon cast for the first time a glance towards the royal tribune. He saw Viserys staring at him, smiling in the corner. Otto focus on the fight without commenting on anything. Aemma worries about the turn of the duel. Dropping his gaze. He saw this prince of dorne right on his chair, watching him back. He saw you, your hand gripping the dornish, your outfit in the color of the Martell. Daemon felt her heart tighten, you wore the colors of your fiancer and you were most beautiful. Your whole body expressed how worried you were and Prince Targaryen hoped it would be for him. A last breath of bravery passed through him, he observed the knight above him, his head was hidden by his helmet but he could feel the perspiration of it. With a look of disgust, Daemon managed to get himself out of the grip of his opponent, took a dagger out of his belt, he planted the blade in the left thigh of his opponent, who screamed under the pain. Heart pounding, Daemon took advantage of this diversion to catch dark sister, he got up with difficulty, pointing his blade towards his opponent.

"Give up or I’ll kill you."

The knight looked at Prince Targaryen, he wanted to take the blade out of his thigh, but a high heart prevented it. It was after several seconds of thinking about his possibilities to regain control and defeat Daemon, that the knight dropped his arms, declaring forfeit.

The spectators began to howl, waving flags of various colours, many of them in the colours of the Targaryen house. The shouter (sort of animator) entered the arena, grabbing the prince’s wrist, he raised his arm and proclaimed that Prince Daemon was the great winner of this tournament.

On your side you were experiencing your own battle, your feelings were most confused, between the worry, the pride that he won the jousting tournament, but also the remorse to feel such emotions in destination of someone other than your fiancer. One of your legs was shaking, your breath was jerking and your hand was shaking Nymor’s hand with force. You thought it would end here, that you’d go back to the castle and just celebrate the end of the jousts. But it made sense to count on the winner’s reward. That reward you had forgotten.

Servants had approached the prince, holding a wooden box close. By opening it all could see case inside stood a crown of flowers, flowers from Essos, they were beautiful, they were rare flowers that grew on the edge of the great desert.

You thought Daemon would refuse the reward and leave without it. But he took off his gloves, gently lifting the crown, he spent two minutes watching it before looking towards the stands. The prince advanced calmly, holding the crown towards the stands. All the people in the royal stands hoped the prince would offer it to the queen.

"Lady Y/h/n, your favor has kept me lucky throughout these battles, I want to name you queen of love and beauty."

Your heart was pounding with disturbing force, you thought you had imagined this moment, a part of you hoped for it, but another much louder screamed to accept, to come down from the bleachers to congratulate him. You looked towards your parents who were staring at Daemon, then your gaze passed over Nymor who was stretched on his chair, you shook his hand, trying to get him back, he shook his head before looking at you. With a little smile he loosened his grip on your hand, inviting you to accept the prince’s gift.

It is hesitant that you rose, letting the bottom of your dress float in the wind, arriving at the railing, you knelt down to take the crown from Daemon’s hands. As your hands touched, a very light electric shock ran through you. Daemon took your hands in his.

"Don’t forget my words, Y/n, I love you, with a love I’ve never felt before. Give me a chance."

You stayed several minutes so, your hands touching, looking you in the eyes, his purplish gaze managed to hypnotize you and had much more strength than you had imagined in the screen. It was the king’s speech that separated you. In it he congratulated his brother for having won. But you listened only little to him. Disturbing to touch each other, words from the day before Daemon, to look at each other. You rose slowly, returning to your place, you placed the crown of flowers on your lap, although your mother urged you to wear it on your head. It was the look in the void and the misty thoughts, that you returned to the castle, to prepare for the great closing dinner of the jousts. You did not know if the prince was present by his banishment, but he was the victor, so it remained uncertain.

---

In your chambers, you waited for Anne, the crown place on the table to quote parchments of Daemon. These had become forbidden fruits, your body was attracted by the scrolls, your reason cried out to you not to read them, your hand stretched out towards the small pieces of parchment sealed with the acronym of Daemon, you could smell the smell of parchment so present in your room, some gave off very light smoke, your heart beat inconsistently.

If you couldn’t move on from her parchment scraps, you never could with Daemon. It was taking a deep breath that you went to lock your door before you started looking for the very first parchment, sorting them by age, this was not easy, but the yellowing of the parchment helped, it being darker when older.

This small parchment, was like the grail, or rather the single ring. Hesitant, trembling hands, gasping for breath, a hint of perspiration flowing from your forehead.

You opened it up.

Finding out what the prince had to say to you. Think you’re ready for what you’d read.

Oh, oh how wrong you were.

---

Tag list :

@avalyaaa

[bubbledtee]

OMG imagine Outlaw!Jamie "wrangling" you with a lasso, tying you up with it before having his way with you...

OH MY GOD DO NOT PUT THIS IN MY BRAIN RIGHT NOW I NEEEEEED HIM SO BAD. (I'm sorry this doesn't have him lassoing you, but lassos hurt trust me LOL)

when your relationship started when you were both young and stupid, it was a thing for him to sneak away from camp with you for an hour or two and gallop across the terrain of the west with you behind him in his saddle. you'd be clung to him, giggling as he pushed his filly's speed through a straight and flat plain, a vast watering hole being your stopping point. as you clung to him, your hair would be flowing through the wind, its breath whistling past your ears as james's voice occasionally broke through with a gruff "Git!" or "Get on, mare!", to which you'd giggle out "Slow down, James! I feel like I'm gonna fall!". in response you'd get, "You're not gonna fall, woman! You've got a damn death grip on me!" with a hearty chuckle.

as you near the watering hole, james's voice would ring through your ears once again, "Wo-oah, girl." he'd pull up on the reins, bringing the filly down to an easy lope before a walk near the bank of the watering hole.

he'd dismount before reaching up and lifting you from the horse, his strength making it seem effortless. "You think they're gonna come lookin' for us again this time?" james would ask, his hands lingering on your waist as he towered over you. "I doubt it, I think they learned from last time. Plus, I finished all my chores before we left." you'd tell him, to which you'd get a smirk and a clear "Atta girl."

as you made your way to the bank of the body of water and sat, james would hold you close, his large frame keeping your small one warm and safe. eventually, his lips would find their way to yours and soon enough, he'd be moving over top of you, your back starting to press to the ground as he kisses you affectionately and fervently. it wouldn't be until you grabbed his hat from his head that he broke away, a smirk painted on his face as he held himself up with a hand beside your head.

"You tryin' to take my hat?" he'd ask, somewhat breathless as he watched you grin up at him bashfully.

"Hmm," you'd hum before looking at his hat in your hands. Suddenly, you'd quickly wiggle from beneath him and struggle to your feet before putting his hat on your head and running, giggling.

You watch as the blonde scrambles to his feet, a wide grin under his mustache as he began to chase you. "Get back here, girl!" he'd laugh, chasing after you quickly and gaining on you quickly. You'd shriek as his hands got dangerously close to your blouse before he suddenly tripped over the unlevel terrain, leaving him flat on the ground behind you.

You'd stop abruptly, eyeing him with growing worry. "James? Are you okay?" you'd ask uneasily, slowly inching toward him and searching his face for any gashes or bruises as he looked up at you.

"I'm not sure," he'd groan, pushing your guard completely down as you began to move to examine his body for any new bruises or scrapes. As you knelt to the ground to get a closer look, the blonde brute suddenly lunged to tackle you to the ground and wrangle you.

You'd gasp with pure shock, the action so quick you could hardly register it. It wasn't until the man snatched his hat from your hands and chucked it somewhere in the grass that you finally could articulate your words. "You jackass!" you'd practically yell, only eliciting a chuckle from James.

"You are just so gullible, ain't you, woman?" he'd say as he caressed your waist in his large, calloused hands.

You'd attempt to hold back your smile and red blush as you responded, "I am not gullible, James! I was just worried..."

The blonde would continue his previous attack of kisses before responding, his face just inches from your own. "Well, maybe it'll teach you not to steal my hat next time." he'd wink before pressing his lips against your own, his hands moving to unbutton your blouse as you did the same with his own shirt...

sorry this was a fade to black ending but writing smut is a big commitment and I'm not quite ready to make that commitment right now 😭😭 also this was so much for no reason

[thesevenofbirds]

Aubrey leading the retreat!!

//Found this old drawing of Aubrey and the lady from the other world whose name i don't remember for the life of me 💖 they are running away maybe? Hands grabbin dem. Hand holdin then :o in haste! Wo!

Image ID- two women holding hands, running on grass away from spectral arms. Aubrey Little is on the right, her hair is a poofy pompadour and she's wearing a denim patch vest, and ripped jeans over fishnets. She holds and presumably tugs on the hand of a smaller woman in a flowy dress, who wears a tall wizard hat, large round glasses, some jewelry, and scarves around her neck and waist. The woman is crying and clutching her hat to her head as she stands in a position about to run. Her leg furthest from Aubrey is caught in the grip of a disembodied, spectral arm on the ground, and similar hands as well as fog reach and grasp at the women's feet.

[shiesan]

My Little Gamer Boy

vox akuma x reader

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

"Sweetheart?"

You call out into a seemingly empty apartment. Removing you shoes at the door, you proceed to checkout the room you share with your boyfriend.

As you get closer and closer you hear the clacking of the keys on his keyboard.

"RYUJIN NO KEN WO KURAE!! Fuck yeah that has to be play of the game"

You smile to yourself.

*He's playing OW2 again, silly boy*

In all honesty, you were happy that your dear boyfriend, Vox, gets to do what he loves for a living. Recently he's been really enjoying Overwatch 2 and has been playing it a lot with co-workers. But sometimes Vox forgets that he's not as young as he used to be and plays the game for hours on end. Which is where you come in. Constantly reminding him that he needs to step away from the monitor for a bit, something he's very grateful for.

Back to the present, you’re just watching him by the door frame. Enjoying his little expressions on his face. 

He’s so cute”, you mumble to yourself.

As the game progresses his expressions change though. Turning a bit more sour and negative, even his aura feels a bit heavy. 

“NO!NO!NO! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. You rat bastard! We almost had them! Turn my dick into a straw you dimwit.” 

Sometimes the words that come out of his mouth are too funny. You can’t help but chuckle a little. 

“Oh fuck it. I need to touch grass. Bye guys.” He angrily took of his headphones as he said his goodbyes.

“Ugh, fucking hell.” He groans with hands to his face. He finally notices your presence, and turns slowly to you.

“Hi, Voxxy.” you say with a bit of a chuckle at the end.

“Hello, my love. Were you here the whole time?”

You nod.

“I’m sorry you had to see me being such a little shit.” He finally removes his hands from his face and looks at your with defeated eyes.

You walk slowly to him, trying your best not to burst out laughing.

“Babe, we’ve been together so long. I’ve seen you be a little shit multiple times, nothing new.” You say as you bring his head a bit closer to your tummy.

“I know, but still. We had them you know, they got Voxxy’s dragon wrath but still lost. Hackers I tell you. It wasn’t even ranked but the enemies were so cracked.” He says as he pulls you tighter and mumbles into your tummy.

“Ha,” you start to laugh.

“Is my misery bringing you some sort of amusement my dear?” He looks up to you and proceeds to raise and eyebrow. He had the most serious look on his face that you couldn’t help it anymore.

“AHAHAHAHAHAH. I’m so sorry, my love. I was watching you play and all your little expressions were too cute, You looked like a sad little monkey at the end of the game, too adorable.”

“THIS IS A SERIOUS MATTER Y/N! I’m devastated.” He says.

“yes, yes. It is. Apologies for being so rude, my lord” You say as you cup his face and caress his cheek. “Don’t worry voxxy, you’ll always be my #1 little gamer boy. Chu” You kiss him on the lips.

A slight tint of pink appears on his cheeks. “Damn right I am” he says as he pulls you in for another kiss. He pulls away and pulls you closer to him by the hips, “Have you had dinner yet?”

“No, not yet.” You reply as you gently brush his hair with your fingers.

“Alrighty, let me cook you a little something.”

“Wow. A gamer who can cook? I must’ve won the lottery.” You say as he stands up from his gaming chair.

“I could say the same thing,” he kisses the top of your head “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

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if this turned out bad I am so sorry I wrote this on a whim so don’t come @ me :P hope u enjoyed atl :’)