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Piero Ferrari?? Like the son of actual Enzo Ferrari??? He's a Charles fan omg what
Charles bleeds Ferrari and we are wondering why the son of Ferrari himself loves him?
Charles delivered the spiritual experience that was Monza 2019, of course that got the attention of FERRARI.
Piero is also on the record saying that is father would have loved Charles too.
Tifosi recognize Tifosi and Charles is the most insane Ferrari fan who clearly loves that team inside and out. Of course they love him back.
The thing is that it is very clear that the love of the team goes way beyond just being a fast car for Charles. You just need to listen to him talk about Ferrari for a good minute to understand.
Anyway yes remember Charles is quite literally FERRARI approved in the most literal sense.
Forza Ferrari and Forza Charles
#luci answers#there are drivers who love and respect Ferrari and then there are drivers who live breathe and DREAM Ferrari#and have that dancing horse stamped on their soul#and it's easy to tell the difference
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Omg, itâs big boy
#I finally did it#and it was so easy#I just paraglided onto him#zelda botw#botw link#BOTW#loz breath of the wild#giant horse
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can we stop putting celebrities on horses for aesthetic reasons when they can't ride for shit
#fio.txt#ignore this very specific rant lmao#but the amount of times i just want to scream when i see they've used another horse to make something look cool.........#yes this is about h*rry st*les#didnt even know he had a new mv but saw gifs on here#and like#deep breaths#i am weeping inside#his posture is bad first of all but not actually as horrible as it could have been#but even so he's not actually moving with the horse and that's just đ#the tack looks cool yeah but why the fuck would you give a rider with unsteady and therefore harsh hands#the reins that are attached to a leverage bit where basically the entire point is to NOT have constant contact#LOOSE REINS being a keyword here#like that's gonna cause pain every time he yanks on the reins#which isnt even his fault tbh like yeah friesians are gorgeous horses but theyre literally bred to look flashy nowadays#and theyre not very nice and easy to sit on for that reason esp not in trot when youre not used to such gaits#so please can we just get doubles that wont fall into the horses back with every step#this isnt just about him its about almost every scene where they just put random people on a horse#especially with either ill fitting or bits that are not suited for how unsteady the riders hands are#and its just painful to look at#at least they opted out of giving him spurs#but like for the love of god when you have so much money then put it to use somehow. take some lessons or pay someone who has actual skills#not even getting into the horse girl tv shows where i just want to rip my hair out bc so often thats just not how its done#thats not how it works and thats definitely not fucking bits you give to beginners ever unless youre a cruel human being who hates animals#well anyway. enough ranting
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like itâs not about all the little things that i keep saying are pissing me off. itâs the fact that i continuously feel like an afterthought in my own relationship because sheâs too wrapped up in her own thoughts in her own head to notice the world around her and act like she isnât the only one in it.
#i know i should just break up with her bc i keep making myself angrier and angrier and angrier at her#but i want to keep trying bc i know iâm mostly responsible for this#iâve held in any and all reservations and negative (albeit possibly constructive in some cases) feedback#because sheâs more skittish than a horse and she apologizes for so much as looking at me wrong when i havenât said or done anything#i feel like iâm walking on eggshells trying not to make HER walk on eggshells#like sheâs so fucking anxious around me that sometimes i worry that sheâs afraid of me#i get that her S E V E R E anxiety is a her problem that i canât fix#but JESUS FUCKING CHRIST donât make me feel like iâll send you into a panic attack for so much as breathing in your general direction#again this is kind of on me in that i knew she had severe anxiety and freaks out about everything LONG before we started dating#i just ignored it and thought with my stupid gay heart as it emerged from its cage for the first time in years#and now iâm facing the consequences of having not communicated any of my frustrations sooner#even though those frustrations were small and easy to shrug off#and i love her so i wanted to be able to shrug them off#i donât want to give up on something when i feel like i havenât even tried#i donât want to give up just because itâs suddenly and FINALLY gotten hard#flower
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With a great cloppitty-clop the column began to move, and Shasta breathed again.
"The Chronicles of Narnia: The Horse and His Boy" - C. S. Lewis
#book quote#the chronicles of narnia#the horse and his boy#c s lewis#horse riding#shasta#prince rabadash#breathe easy
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By Order of the Black Pirates
An 'Ice On My Teeth' Comeback Special Series
"N-No, please! Spare me! I was wrong! I swear I'll never do it again!" The man's voice cracked as he grovelled on the damp ground, tears carving paths through the grime on his face. His trembling hands offered up the tiny diamond he'd been foolish enough to stealâhis last-ditch effort to appease the eight figures towering over him like shadows of death.
He'd heard the whispers, the warnings: Never cross the Black Pirates. Never touch what belongs to them. Never even think of betrayal. Yet greed had blinded him. Now, staring into their cold, merciless eyes, he knew his regret was far too late.
The leader of the gang stepped forward, a smirk tugging at his lips as he tilted his head, studying the pitiful man like a cat sizing up a doomed mouse. "Didn't I ask you to screen these rats better?" he drawled, casting a sideways glance at the eldest among them before shifting his focus back to their prey. "No time to waste. Finish him."
A low chuckle echoed through the tension-filled night as the gang's usual executioner, a broad-shouldered figure clad in his signature fur coat, stepped forward, his grin as sharp as the blade in his hand.
"Sorry, buddy," he mused, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "This will be the night you take your final breathâby order of the Black fuckin' Pirates."
ÙÙÙÙÙÙÙÙÙÙÙÙÙÙÙïź©ÙšÙ
Watching the harrowing scene from a distance stood a figure with crossed arms, his voice low as he muttered to his right-hand, "Every man has a weakness. Find the Black Pirates', and we'll knock them off their high horses."
"And if they have none, sir?"
The figure's lips curled into a dark smile. "Then we'll make sure they do."
Pairing(s): gang members!ateez x fem!reader
AU: gang au
Summary: One by one, the Black Pirates uncover their greatest weakness. But when the cracks begin to show, will they stand firm or let their vulnerabilities bring their empire to its knees?
Genre: angst, hurt/comfort
Trigger Warnings: violence, torture, abuse, blood, murder, language, contains dark themes in general
A/N: Credits to the wonderful @sundaybossanova for giving me the idea of something Peaky Blinders inspired. Thank you so much and ilyđ
**Dearest readers, please note that all chapters are interconnected. You're advised to read them in order.
ATEEZ MASTERLIST
Hongjoong
⣠The Captain
The Captain of the Black Piratesârespected, feared, and unmatched in strategyâlives by his sharp mind and unshakable resolve. But his carefully constructed world begins to crumble when a grave mistake leads him to torture an innocent suspect nearly to death. Haunted by guilt, his quest for redemption takes an unexpected turn, awakening a part of him he never thought existed: a desire to protect and care for someone.
Seonghwa
⣠The Gentleman
The Black Pirates' poised diplomat, celebrated for his refined demeanour, sharp wit, and unmatched negotiation skills, is always in control. But his composure falters when he encounters an unwilling captive trapped in the Red Roomâa ruthless training ground for spies. Driven by an unexpected urge to save her, he finds his carefully maintained boundaries beginning to unravel.
Yunho
⣠The Enforcer [Coming soon]
The towering enforcer of the Black Pirates, both disarming and deadlyâhis easy charm capable of winning over enemies, while his legendary fury dominates the battlefield. But his unbreakable facade begins to crack when he meets a psychologist during a missionâsomeone who can see through his carefully crafted mask, just as he can see through hers. Beneath her confident exterior lies a frightened soul lost in a dark world, and for the first time, he finds himself compelled to protect someone in a way he never expected.
Yeosang
⣠The Phantom [Coming soon]
Mysterious and elusive, the Black Pirates' intelligence expert is known for his sharp instincts and unparalleled skill in espionage and reconnaissance. But when he crosses paths with a woman who surpasses him in both skill and wit for the first time, his confidence begins to waver. As she outsmarts him at every turn, he finds himself unexpectedly drawn to her, eagerly anticipating each challengeâbecause the thrill of being near her is something he never expected to crave.
San
⣠The Tempest [Coming soon]
The Black Pirates' most unpredictable force is a whirlwind of fiery passion and unbridled energyâalways the first to leap into action when chaos erupts. But his world tilts when he stumbles upon a woman who, unlike his victims who always begged to live, is on the brink of ending her own life. Upon discovering she's terminally ill, he finds himself gripped by an unfamiliar and urgent desire to save her, igniting a battle within himself unlike anything he's ever faced.
Mingi
⣠The Firestarter [Coming soon]
The Black Pirates' wild card is notorious for his fiery temper and even more explosive schemesâa dangerous yet irresistibly charming presence. But his confidence takes a hit when one of his near-disastrous plans is salvaged by an unlikely passerby: a composed and resourceful former aristocrat, exiled and stripped of her wealth, now navigating the world's harsh realities. Her icy demeanour and unshakable poise captivate him, leaving the ever-impulsive man unexpectedly drawn to her.
Wooyoung
⣠The Charmer [Coming soon]
The Black Pirates' negotiator and master of distractions is renowned for his confidence and flirtatious charm, which can sway almost anyone. But his ego is severely wounded when he encounters the loyal bodyguard of a high-profile target, someone completely immune to his usual tricks, during a high-stakes mission. Frustrated by his failure yet captivated by her unwavering resolve, he finds himself unable to stay away, drawn to the challengeâand to herâin ways he never expected.
Jongho
⣠The Anchor [Coming soon]
The steadfast foundation of the Black Pirates is renowned for his unfaltering strength and calm under pressure. As the gang's moral compass and protector, he's always put duty above all else. But when a rival gang's attack threatens the life of their kind-hearted hired doctor, he begins to realise that his priorities extend beyond just his brothers. Torn between his loyalty to the gang and his growing feelings for her, he faces an agonising choice: protect his family or save her.
Voila, my loves! As promised, I finally managed to come up with a little something for this comeback teehee. I hope you're as excited about this as I am! Truthfully, I just returned from a 10-day trip in Shanghai and am back to work on Monday already - which means I might not be able to write much until the following weekend but I will do my best to get the parts out ASAP!
Super excited to hear your thoughts on the concept! Do let me know which member's summary enticed you the most!âš and of course, just leave a comment if you'd like to be tagged for when the parts are released!
General ATEEZ Tag list:
@aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01
@evidive @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho
@the-kpop-simp @itstheghostofmypast @vantediary @green-agent @skzline
@sharksandminhos @writingwieny @heyitsmetonid @tinyteezer @hollxe1
@pandabur666 @vampzity @tournesol155 @lilactangerine @oddracha
@haven-cove @idfkeddieishot @vic0921 @vnessalau @apriecotte
@bangtannie7 @vtyb23 @khjoongie98 @scuzmunkie @anxiousskylar
@bunny4yungi @zl-world @bethelighthalazia @tsunchani
All Rights Reserved © edenesth
DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR OTHERWISE REPURPOSE ANY OF THE WORK HERE.
#edenesth#by order of the black pirates#ice on my teeth#ateez#ateez fanfic#ateez fanfiction#gang au#kim hongjoong#park seonghwa#jung yunho#jeong yunho#kang yeosang#choi san#song mingi#jung wooyoung#choi jongho#hongjoong x reader#seonghwa x reader#yunho x reader#yeosang x reader#san x reader#mingi x reader#wooyoung x reader#jongho x reader#ateez fic
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take me home, country road
[ao3]
You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 18) tw: minor character death, injuries, and misogynistic language
masterlist
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Heâs far off still, the smoking gun held tight in his hand and aimed up at the sky. A warning shot. Â
At first, you donât quite believe it. He appears like a mirage in the distance after wandering through the desert for days, on the brink of starvation. Like a trick of the eye. You squint against the light, sure that youâve mistaken the familiar felt pinch front hat and the speckled Appaloosa he sits astride for someone else, a stranger come to save you instead of the man youâve been desperately pining for since Graves stole you from your home.Â
But the longer you stare at the man coming towards you, the brim of his hat casting a shadow over his face save for the grim set of his mouth, the harder it is to deny that it really is John.Â
Your chest is fit to burst. Heart pumping wildly against your ribcage. The sight of him is revelatoryâa burning bush, a stream of light through storm clouds, St Elmoâs fire. The euphoric high is almost overwhelming.
âSon of a bitch,â Graves hisses beneath his breath, hand reaching for the revolver on his belt.Â
John is quicker though, firing off another round, this time at the ground between them, alarming Graves enough to make his arm jerk away from his side. Even you yelp. The gunfire cuts your swell of adulation short, bringing you back flush to the surface of the real world again. Gravesâ horse scrambles back a few steps, nearly rearing up before Graves gets control of him.
âWhoa, whoa, whoa, nowââ Graves booms, right in your ear, so loud that you wince, curling into yourself.Â
The gelding chuffs at Johnâs approach, unsettled. Graves digs his spurs into the horseâs side when it takes a few nervous steps back, making it whinny in pain. Youâd tell him off, but youâve learned by now to hold your tongue around Graves. He only knows how to impose his authority through pain.Â
âEasy, alrightââ Graves calls out, holding out the hand not tangled in the reins to show that itâs empty, the revolver still sheathed in its holster. âNo oneâs gonna do anything stupid.â
The horse John sits astride is the one he never dared to train you on. The one you know would buck you straight off if you tried to hoist yourself up on its saddle. Heâs bigger than Buttercup, all muscle and broodsome aura like its owner, and he doesnât take kindly to strangers.Â
When it breathes out, you imagine its breath should smell sulfuric. Fire and brimstone.Â
Closer to you now, you can see his eyes under the brim of his hat. He glowers at Graves, the same look youâve seen only once before, staring through the window of the general store at the scowl carved into his face when he dragged a man across town, but intensified. Not so much as a glimmer of sympathy or understanding in his eyes. Just cold rage.Â
The lines in his face are deep from lack of sleep, dark troughs under his eyes. Shoulders stiff; every muscle of his tensed, poised to react. You wonder how long after Graves took you John realized and followed the two of you in pursuit.Â
âIâm gonna say this once and you best not try my patience: let the lady go.â
The sound of his voice rumbles through you, making the hair on your arms raise. Seldom have you heard him use that tone of voice, more man than sheriff.Â
Gravesâ hand tightens on the reins, knuckles going white. You donât have to look over your shoulder to know that he has the same obsequious look on his face as he did back in town, indignation relegated to his extremities. You can see it in the tensed muscle of his forearms.
âNow Sheriff, you may have the run of this county, but Iâve got the power of the law on my side. The state of New York has issued a warrant for this womanâs arrest.â Gravesâ smarmy evocation to the legality of his actions rankles you. He acts like the whole situation is out of his control, that he takes no joy in your apprehension. Simply a matter of duty.Â
Not that it seems to make a difference. Even you could tell Graves that.Â
âI wonât ask again.â Johnâs voice is threaded with fury, angrier than youâve ever heard him speak.Â
And true to his words, he doesnât. The silence stretches between the two men, fraught with tension. Graves is a rigid line at your back.Â
Heâs the first to break the silence; the first to give. âAt least let me show you the warrant, Sheriff,â Graves implores. âI ainât just some vagrant thatâs come and taken the sheriffâs wife without causeâand I assure you, there is cause.â
John doesnât say a word, blue eyes still severe. Colder than the waters of Cocytus.Â
Graves must take his silence as permission because he reaches a hand into his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper. He holds it out to John at first, perhaps expecting the man to come close enough to take it from his hand, but John doesnât even glance at the hand offering him the arrest warrant, eyes still locked on Graves.Â
âSee now, Iâll even read it outââ he says, clearing his throat and half turning the paper back to him. ââWhereas it has been represented to Government thatâââ
âGive the letter to my wife,â John cuts him off, gesturing towards the warrant in Gravesâ hand with his gun. âSheâll deliver it to me once youâve handed her over.â
The interruption stuns Graves into silence, the warrant still held in his outstretched arm. He must not be accustomed to men deferring to women instead of him, much less a criminal like you. Your stomach cramps with nerves. The blow to his ego worries you more than John getting his hands on the arrest warrant. His behavior up to this point has been predictableâviolent, but unsurprising. You arenât interested in finding out if losing his temper changes that.Â
Johnâs eyes flick to yours. The first time heâs really looked at you since arriving unannounced, just a quick glance over you to ensure that youâre well. He must not like what he sees because the skin around his eyes tightens.Â
The moment of inattention is all Graves needs, eyes trained on it like a hunting dog. Johnâs eyes barely twitch away to meet yours and Graves draws his gun, his aim wild when he shoots.Â
You donât see what he hits, but the gunfire drives Johnâs horse into a panic, throwing its head back and rearing up onto its hind legs. Graves fires again and the ground between you explodes, dirt and debris erupting into the air. The horse roars, the sound deep and throaty.Â
Graves grabs you by the back of your dress, forcing your back to arch and shoulders to pull back, using you, for all intents and purposes, as a meat shield. You can hear John try to take control of his horse, but itâs near mindless with fear, braying and bucking when Graves fires again, white smoke billowing from the muzzle. Panic seizes you by the throat when Johnâs horse bucks him right off, bellowing a curse when his body slams to the ground.Â
A scream bursts from your throat, but Graves holds you in place before you can slide off the saddle, spitting a tense shut the fuck up into your ear before digging his heel into his horseâs flank and steering him around, beating a hasty retreat. His horse moves in a wide arc until his body is turned back in the direction that Graves was originally heading.Â
You struggle against him until the horse moves at a speed too dangerous to chance falling from its back. It covers ground fast, moving at a breakneck speed.Â
âStopâlet me down!â you scream, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. The howling wind carries your voice away.Â
The violent toing and froing makes it impossible to cast a backward glance and see if John is in pursuit. All of your senses narrow down to whatâs in front of you; from the saddle horn digging into your stomach and the air whipping past your face to the feeling of Gravesâ breath wafting over the back of your neck as he pants.Â
A booming crack fills the air and you scream, fear soaring to an unfathomable height.Â
Graves grunts and tenses behind you, his hands spasming around the reins and letting go involuntarily. Then you feel the body behind you slump to the side, his weight almost unbalancing you until he falls off the horse altogether, feet slipping out of the stirrups.Â
The blood in your ears masks the sound of his body hitting the ground. Your head whips around to follow the trajectory of Gravesâ body, but a wave of vertigo slams into you, a head on collision that forces you to dig your fingers into the horseâs mane and turn your body back around.Â
The horse barely notices the body slipping off its back though, tunnel vision on the road ahead. Legs pumping furiously beneath it, kicking up clouds of dust and dirt. Youâd have thought the horse wouldâve slowed up with the sudden unburdening of the other person astride it, but if anything, it picks up speed.Â
You canât calm down enough to catch your breath; it gallops ahead of you as well, your vision growing spotty with the short, jagged breaths you take in. Lungs collapsing under the weight of your chest. Eyes squinted against the piercing wind. Sunspots brighter than light itself.Â
Your instinct is to make yourself small; shield yourself from the impending pain. That inescapable reality rushes towards you as quickly as you race towards it. Youâre going to fall. Itâs almost certain. You whimper when a particularly rough stride makes you slip an inch to the right, your fingers gripping into the horseâs mane ever tighter, desperate to keep yourself astride.
Someoneâs voice breaks through the noise and you open your eyes.Â
In your fearstruck state, you almost donât recognize the man riding beside you and keeping pace until he says your nameâyour real nameâand you snap back to yourself. No time to contemplate your name in his mouth though, no time for anything except keeping from slipping into total panic.
âPull up on the reins!â John roars over the clamor of hooves.Â
You peel your face from the horseâs mane to meet his eyes. The parallel of a memory from long ago. It flashes before your eyes and you remember yourself. Numb hands fisted in the horseâs mane unclench.Â
âPull up!â he shouts again, and this time you comprehend. Itâs the same as the time before.Â
Summoning every ounce of courage in your bones, you tighten your thighs and belly to lift yourself up, gathering and bridging the reins in your manacled hands. Half halt, release, and half halt again.Â
âGoodânow circle!â Johnâs voice booms in your ear and through your blood.Â
You flinch when you try to steer your horse into a wide, sweeping turn and he resists at first, but on your second try, he follows your pull, his strides gradually slowing, easing up. When your horse finally comes to a standstill, walking its last few strides before coming to a stop, you sit with that bubble of tension until it bursts. Under your thighs, you can feel your horseâs ribs expand and contract with its labored breath.Â
The world blurs for a moment. The adrenaline flooding your body dissipates more with every breath you take, but the crash is just as intense as the rise. You can feel the shakes that wrack your body in a way that your mind canât quite yet take in, still outside of itself. The first thing you truly register is your husband suddenly at your side, coaxing you down from the horse, your handcuffed hands braced on his chest as he helps you down and then holding on to him when your knees nearly buckle under you.
âThank Christ,â he growls, pulling you into his chest.Â
The smell of tobacco and cloves is woven into the fabric of his shirt and you breathe it in zealously because itâs his. The reassurance that your husband has you, that heâs with you now, and the bad is over, nearly bowls you over. Makes you shake all the harder.
When you finally pull your face away from Johnâs chest, he cups your cheek with a gunpowder dusted hand, tilting your head up so he can press his lips to your forehead. Your gaze flits up and you stare at him with bleary eyes, wondering what he sees when he looks at you. Messy hair and a fleeting breath that quivers out, breaks to pieces, illuminates the sky when you glance over his head and itâs so blue that you could swim in it.Â
John frowns when you accidentally roll your shoulder back and wince. âYouâre hurt.âÂ
Thereâs no use in lying when he'll find out the truth soon enough, so you just nod.Â
âHis doing, was it?â he assumes more than asks, inspecting you closely now and noting all the fresh abrasions immediately visible to his eyes. Â
Most of your injuries are surface level, more than apparent to him after a quick perusal. A split lip and plenty of scrapes just beginning to scab. Youâre too tired to recount the events of the day before though, so you just shrug. Then hiss, the pain so intense that your bones go cold for a split second.Â
His forehead pinches with his frown, ghosting his hand over your shoulder as if to hold it in place. âIâll look at it later, okay, darlinâ?â
Every inch of you aches. You wish it could just be over now and you could be back in your bed by sundown, but you know the way home will be just as long. No rest unless you want the journey to be twice as long. The exhaustion alone might have you keel over before night falls.Â
Then someone coughs and drags you back into the real world.Â
You follow the sound with your eyes until they land on its cause. The crumpled form of the bounty hunter that dragged you out of town lies a quarter mile back. Itâs difficult to make out the state of him from so far away, but you can tell it isnât pretty, mangled and bloody from the fall he took off the horse.Â
âOh GodâŠâ you murmur, eyes widening when the man twitches against the grass.Â
Johnâs hand falls away from your cheek. His anger is so palpable that you can feel it fill him back up, blue eyes going steely and jaw tightening as he stares at the man that tried to take you from him.Â
âStay here,â your husband growls, hand reaching down to draw his pistol again.
John leaves you by the horses some distance away as he makes his way over to Gravesâ prone form. Blood seeps from a gunshot wound in his shoulder, saturating his shirt and wetting the dirt beneath him, and even from where you stand, you can see the odd angle of his ankle from where he hit the ground.Â
With no small amount of effort, Graves props himself up on his good arm, the other hanging limp against the ground. Even the sight makes you wince, bile churning in your stomach. He has to be in tremendous pain. Even John limps a little as he approaches the other man, hip likely sore from his own fall.Â
Against your better judgment, and your husbandâs command, you take a step towards them. And then another.
You have no reason other than the sinking feeling in your belly. If it were you with the gun, things would be different, you think. Youâd do it again, without a second thought. Anything to keep Graves from opening his mouth.Â
The gun in Johnâs hand makes clear his intentions in no uncertain terms. Out on the plains in the middle of nowhere, even taking pity on the man and bringing Graves to the nearest town might not be enough. Itâs a rough world out there. Tougher still with a wounded shoulder and sprained ankle.Â
More to the matter, Johnâs face says it all, jaw clenched and lips drawn into a tight line.Â
âIt doesnât have to go this way, sheriff,â Graves wheezes when the other man draws close enough to hear.Â
âYou know I havenât got a choice now,â John says, gazing up at the sky for a moment before looking back down at the man on the ground. âNot after you laid a hand on my wife.â
Despite the distance, Gravesâ voice carries when he speaks. âYou think you know that bitch? You donât know this woman from Eve. What makes you think she wonât butcher you like she did that man back east?â
So casually he says it that you almost miss it. And then you donât. The words pour over you like a sudden rain and you are back in that room, dread so potent that it chars the flesh, leaving cratered, necrotic holes wherever it touches. The worst moment of your life.Â
And Graves says it like a sin of your own making, like it was something you wanted, not a moment in your life haunting you from beyond the grave.Â
Your heart stops when your husband looks over at you assessingly. The truth lours over the two of you now, out in the open at last. All those months of hiding it, squandered in a moment by an injured manâs words. All you can do is stare helplessly at the man outlined by the blue sky, the horizon forever etching him into your memory. Itâs the first time since you stumbled into the sheriffâs office all those months ago that you havenât wanted him to think that you werenât the woman that was supposed to be his wife.
âShoulda listened to me, sheriff,â Graves laughs, his voice pained and raspy. âThat Jezebel needs to answer for what she did.â
You can see it in his eyes that he believes Graves. And why wouldnât he? The man has committed no crime; spoken not a lie to this point.Â
John looks at you in such a strange way though. Thereâs no surprise there; just a glint in his eye meant only for you. A glint that says darlinâ, this ainât nothinâ new; you never couldâve fooled me.Â
He knew your name after all. And you wonder how long heâs known. If he found out sometime in those first days or somewhere down the line or if the arrest warrant fell across his desk in recent days and he knew it would come to this, someone hunting you down across state lines to bring you back. If he knew heâd always have to come after you and rescue you from the jaws of death.Â
Everything comes all at once, each moment flashing across your mind barely long enough to leave an impression. Everything is proven immaterial in seconds.Â
Thereâs so much between the two of you. History, obligation, duty. Tenderness shouldnât even be the half of it, and yet it bears down twice as hard. Itâs the only thing that matters when you look at himânot the thought of being dragged back east and forced to stand trial, not the injustice of being made to atone for protecting yourself against a worse fate, but the thought of being taken away from him, of never seeing him again.
You can feel that worry evaporate the longer you hold his gaze. Thereâs something intentional there, something he is saying without words.Â
These days, you do not think to tremble when his hands are on your lips. You tilt your head instead, wait for him to make his next move. Your trust, implicit, underlying everything. Knowing heâll break the bread and feed you from his hands if need be.
Though you canât unhinge your jaw enough to ask him to promise that heâll keep you, his eyes say that itâs a foregone conclusion. How could he ever let you go? Youâre everything heâs ever wanted, the only thing even duty could never take from him.Â
John looks back down at the man lying at his feet. âCouldnât help runninâ your mouth, now could you?â
Graves opens his mouth, but John doesnât wait for a response. He pulls the trigger.
#ceil writing#cod x reader#price x reader#john price/reader#price/reader#john price x reader#john price x you#price x you
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wild like the west
3.3k / pairing: cowboy!joel miller x cowgirl!reader
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summary:Â joel and his cowgirl warnings/information:Â MA 18+ (minors DNI), implied but unspecified age gap, joel is technically reader's boss (so power dynamic stuff), swearing, dirty talk, pet names (baby girl, brat, etc.), unprotected p in v, pussy pronouns, asphyxiation kink, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, clean up on aisle reader's stomach, reader is described having hair but otherwise (I believe) reader is a blank slate, no use of y/n, barely edited A/N: I unfortunately have not stopped thinking about a game joel miller x yellowstone crossover, and I feel like he would like this to be his long, happy life. I also haven't written for joel since may which feels like a sin! sorry baby!
It doesnât matter how many ass bruises you get, or the pain of repeated thrashes to your knees from getting bucked off; this unruly horse will bend its spirit to your will.Â
Half the job of purchasing new horses for the Miller Ridge Ranch is breaking them in like a pair of new shoes.Â
Any cowboy, or for you, cowgirl, knows that a horse can sense your personality and fear from a mile away. If you sprout fear, it wonât trust you to be the guide on its back. Itâs a mutual thing to trust one another. Itâs the trust Joel thrust upon you after loyally working at the ranch for a handful of years. Sure, you were young, but you had a good head on your shoulders.
He perches his cowboy boot on the low fence rail, teeth gnawing at a toothpick as he watches you with careful eyes. The morning dew settles over the long grass and tall trees, untouched by man, fostered by nature. With the sun clawing at the horizon, the land turns from a pale blue to a beaming orange glow. Itâs beautiful here, peaceful. You imagine this is the life that Joel always wanted, craved. Heâs not from around here, heâs got too much Southern twang to be from these northern Montana woods.Â
Life guided him up here and he never turned back.Â
You can feel the horse grow agitated under your haunches, whinnying with anxiety as it takes a few rough steps backward in the ground-up dirt.Â
âSâokay, boy, take it easy, easy,â you coo in a gentle voice that lets the horse breathe through its panic. You grip the coltâs mane at the very base of his neck, right by the horn of your saddle, gently scratching that sweet spot that seems to bring him some tranquility.
Youâre the only one who seems to calm these beautiful boys.Â
âYou got a habit of gettinâ inâta trouble before it even knows to start lookinâ for ya.â Joelâs southern drawl rumbles deep from his chest, stepping into the training ring and crooking his first two fingers in your direction.Â
âI got it, Joel,â you say insistently, guiding the horse by a little squeeze of your boots to its belly in Joelâs direction.Â
âKnow ya do.â Joel stops at the horseâs chest and pats its neck, large and calloused hand stroking down its coarse mane as he stares up at you, squinting from the morning sunlight.Â
His eyes are starkly brilliant in this light, typically a dark brown, now a glowy amber under the brim of his black cowboy hat. âYou know that part of learninâ how to be a cowboy is lettinâ them break in their own horse. Hop down.â
A sigh leaves your parted lips as you unhook one boot from the stirrups and throw yourself off. Taking the reigns, you walk with Joel back to the main fence.Â
âYouâre too nice to âem. I hired you to be a bit moreâŠâ He pauses indefinitely, tilting his head.
âRuthless. I know.â Your eyes connect, both hardened after years of this long life. One day of being a cowboy felt like a year at any other job.Â
The plan was plain and simple, a route youâd taken a hundred times with a crew that changed on and off for the past couple of years. The cattle were in need of fresh resources, lush grass to graze on, and streams of pristine crystal water. Up through the valley theyâd go.Â
The cowboys and cowgirls were gathered on their horses, Joel sat atop his beautiful black mare, eyes piercing his crew even behind his tinted sunglasses. Any season besides summer in this state demanded thick, warm work wear. Joel adorned a chocolate brown Carhartt and thick denim jeans under old, worn-out brown chaps.Â
âI want Wyatt and Jack to take front, Bo and Sadie, swing, Jess and June on the flank, Tucker and Sammy on the drag. Wear your bandanas, itâs gonna get dusty back there,â your eyes flick up to a string of confused faces, âany questions?âÂ
âWhy do we have to go through the valley? Weâd have to push hundreds of cows through open water,â Bo mutters, disdain for a woman making all these choices for him, perhaps.Â
âYeah, nâI canât swim. Never learned.â Another pipes in.Â
âThen youâre a goddamn idiot,â old man Wyatt gurgles up a chuckle. Wyatt has been a cowboy longer than you have been alive. He raised you up to be tough with a streak of kindness that could never be washed away. He gives you a tight nod of reassurance as you sigh weakly.Â
All this tomfoolery seems to be a bit much for Joelâs taste. âSheâs takinâ questions about the plan, not your âpinions on it. I tell her what to do, she tells yaâll what to do. You question her, you question me. So do as she says, or you answer to me.â
Joelâs always had a tight hand on the crew. He intimidates them. He is their boss, after all. They have a problem with you or this ranch or anyone else, they answer to him. Joel takes off his sunglasses and narrows his eyes on Bo, the newest cowboy with a pretty big mouth on him who bucks just as bad as your new colts. And his dead eyes are set on you.Â
The rest of the crew sets off towards the direction of the cattle herd, everyone except Bo.Â
Your head jerks upward in his direction, your own eyes narrowed. âYou wanna say somethinâ?â You ride alongside Bo, who seems to be wrestling with his stupid thoughts. But before he gets a chance to say anything, Joel intervenes.Â
âGot a fight in you? It starts anâ ends with me.â
Bo looks between both of you, simply scoffing before he backs his horse off and trots along towards the crew.Â
The view from the top of the valley is beautiful, all yellow and golden, with a pale blue sky and tall trees that harbor the secrets of the forest. Joel used to tell you it would whisper to him, warn him. Your chestnut-colored horse stands tall next to Joelâs, and both of you are overseeing the herd and the crew working together.Â
âNot as bad as I thought this was gonna be,â Joel mutters, turning his head in your direction. Youâre unrecognizably quiet. Heâs never known you to be so still.Â
He watches as your fingers anxiously twirl your horseâs mane. âYou undermine me in front of them, and they donât respect me, Joel.âÂ
So thatâs what got you so stiff. He takes in a deep breath of mountain air, crossing his wrists over the horn of his saddle and glancing over at you out of the corner of his eye. Your hair blows in the wind, gentle and flowing. Almost graceful if it wasnât in this wild west. Your beauty was city beauty, he was surprised you ever found your way out here.Â
âBoâs as green as grass. He needs to learn not tâtalk to you like that. And if he needs to learn from me, so be it.â
Keeping your lips zipped, your eyes scan the points that use the dogs to guide the herd in the right direction. The swings and flanks work the mid to back-mid to maintain movement, and the drags stationed at the back ensure that any loose stragglers keep up.Â
Joel rolls his eyes and sighs, reaching his hand across to your horseâs reigns, keeping your horse tucked to his side.Â
âCâmon, Cowgirl. Spit it out.âÂ
âYou go about defendinâ me, it looks like weâre sleepinâ together,â you gripe, âand I donât need our crew slinginâ the slander that I got my job fuckinâ the boss. I donât want that shit, Joel.â
Joel shifts his jaw from side to side, silent as he usually is. His tongue muscles over the right words, the words that will settle that ball of uncertainty you have nestled in your gut.Â
He settles on the truth.Â
âWe are sleepinâ together.âÂ
Shaking your head, you steal your reigns back from Joel and gently nuzzle your boots against the horseâs underbelly. âWell, maybe that should end.âÂ
Joel watches on with a small smirk as your horse is set in motion down the grassy hill. He shouts loud enough for his voice to carry down from the high ground. âYou set those boys straight, or Iâll have to keep doinâ it for ya.â
You sling back your middle finger in his direction, both of your horses riding side by side now as you follow the crew through to the valley.Â
Joel sighs upon entering his large, private cabin, resting his cowboy hat to air out on a hook by the front door. His clothes wreak of his musky sweat, and the shower calls his name. He walks stiffly. Joelâs thick thigh muscles are as strong as iron from riding his horse, and his back cracks each time he inhales.
But he canât deny that this life was made for him.Â
Training to be a carpenter, earning pennies on the dollar to work in the hot Texas sun, and for what? Building someone elseâs dream property? He had his own dreams.Â
The ranch was his dream.
He always had a profound appreciation for nature and the outdoors.Â
Fuck the city, fuck car horns honking obnoxiously, fuck the traffic. He found more fulfillment in listening to the wind flutter through the trees and would much rather hear the moos of his cattle than impatient commuters at six in the morning.Â
Plus, heâs never felt more free or independent. This was his land, and he made the decisions on how it was run. Hiring the sassy cowgirl from the metropolis just happened to be a nice bonus on lonely nights when there wasnât much left to his whiskey bottle, and the ride into town was more than twenty minutes for a new one. She sated him all the same, better, even. Â
Despite years of riding and wrangling, youâre so fucking soft. You have soft eyes, a pretty voice, and satiny thighs. Your lips are plush against his weathered ones, and you donât seem to mind sitting in his lap with his rougher-than-barbwire hands feeling over your body.Â
But in turn, youâve made a little soft spot in his wild like the west heart of his. And he swore heâd never settle down; you seem to have the same intentions.Â
Things were easy. Nice and easy. Almost routine.Â
The bunkhouse would be busy with cowboys and cowgirls playing card games, drinking their beers, singing to the music on the radio, and talking nonsense. Youâd slip out after dark and wind up upstairs in his bed.Â
He recalls you saying something about how his bed is more comfy than the ones in the bunkhouse.Â
âWhatever you say, darlinâ.âÂ
Tonight was no different. Fresh from his shower with a towel secured low on his waist, he hums curiously at the sight of you sprawled out across his bed. No more than a minute later, you are tugging it loose from his frame and letting it pool around his ankles.Â
âThought you said you were done,â Joel muses with a hint of teasing. You sit up from the bed on your knees and wrap your arms around his broad trap and shoulder muscles.Â
âI ainât a quitter,â you mutter against Joelâs mouth, feeling his tongue glide along yours as he explores you freely.Â
He sheds your clothes, feeling your freshly showered skin and hair under his rough palms. He canât help but touch you like youâre his, like he owns you. But no man can possess the wind.Â
You kiss as he slips you under the bedâs cool sheets, drunk on the way you move so pliantly under his guidance. His lips move to the slope of your neck, his greying whiskers scratching your skin before he washes over the irritation with more kisses.Â
Joelâs hands slip between your legs, cupping your clothed center in one hand. Your eyes light up at the friction, mewling up a moan of his name as he massages over the wet spot growing on your panties.Â
âSheâs already soaked, darlinâ. You been thinkinâ âbout this?â Joel muses, sitting up properly to peel your shirt off your body, two fingers curling around the hem of your panties and chucking them mindlessly on the floor.Â
âJoel,â you whisper breathlessly as heâs about to slip down between those pretty legs of yours.Â
âWhat?â He asks, damn near annoyed.Â
âI canât wait,â you beg breathlessly, his eyes meeting yours. âI-I canât, Iâm begginâ you, please. Itâs been a long day.âÂ
Joel sighs but ultimately nods. Itâs not what he wants, but sometimes you both need a quick fix.Â
Joelâs body parts your legs, a grunt escaping the depth of his throat as he ruts his hips against your own.Â
âGood idea,â he mutters against your mouth, leaning down and distracting himself with your kisses as he lines his length up and down your soaking center.Â
You sharply inhale as he enters and the sound is music to his ears. He feels your nails carving into his back muscles as he sinks himself in deeper deeper deeper, both of you panting with eagerness by the time his hips are flush with your own, lost in where you end and he begins.
You let out a string of moans as he reels himself back, only to return to your depths with a snap of his hips that releases a shrill whine of his name from your throat. His forearms are buried in the fluff of the pillows on either side of your head, forehead against forehead, his hips grinding against you now.Â
The friction is enough to make your head spin. You can feel the coarse hair of his happy trail tickling your already anxious pearl.Â
âFuck,â you huff out, letting your hands slip down his back, knowing that if you want him to pick up the pace, youâll have to ignite his fire. In one quick movement, your hands drag themselves up Joelâs back, your nails creating etched lines that raise red once you finish at the very tops of his shoulders.Â
Joel releases a long, low groan in response as his eyes snap open to meet yours. The sting of pain creates heat along Joelâs spine. His jaw is wound tight as he brings his large hand to wrap around your pretty throat, thumb on your chin to force you into staring straight at him.Â
âSuch a goddamn brat,â he growls, adding pressure to the column of your throat as he begins to pound into you harder and harder with each thrust of his hips. You cry out his name, a cacophony of your panting moans and your slick squelching against his hips fill your ears. The ecstasy of losing just a smidge of air is enough to make your eyes roll into the back of your head.Â
Heâs obsessed with the way your eyes gloss over in lust, your body jerking up the bed with each powerful thrust he gives you. Your mouth hangs open, gasping for air thatâs just out of your reach.Â
âYou take it, baby girl, you keep takinâ it. Sheâs so fuckinâ- goddamit, so fuckinâ good for me,â he pants, feeling the warm air dissolve against your skin as Joel begins to swell fatter inside of you.Â
Perfectly slick and warm, he loses himself in your pussy. You squeeze and choke him, his orgasm only building as you whimper how good he feels.Â
âHoly fuck, Joel, please please please, right there, ohmygod youâre gonna make me-â you gasp, your back arching off the mattress as you grip onto his forearm thatâs still holding your delicate throat, your other hand gripping the hair at the nape of his neck. He knows to squeeze a little harder as you fall apart, the euphoria of the combination sending you over the edge.Â
Joelâs holding on for dear life, always focused on putting you first, always trying to prove your jokes of him being an old man wrong. But he canât deny heâs nearly finished twice now, your pretty cunt all nice and warm for him.Â
Whatâs wrong with pushing you over the edge a little?
Joel abandons the hold on your throat as you still are witnessing the aftershocks of your orgasm, his two thick fingers circling over your swollen clit.Â
Joel smirks as your eyes snap open, your jaw dropping wide as you silently scream in pleasure. He nods sadistically, smirking as he overstimulates your already twitchy clit.
âYouâre gonna give me another, right here, right now,â Joel grunts, stilling his hips as heâs buried to the hilt inside you, feeling your pussy clench around his cock as your gasps and strangled moans fill the room.Â
âFuck, Joel I donât think I can,â you cry out, bracing the wrist of the hand thatâs still working figure-eights around your pearl. Joel watches as your chest rises and falls quickly, nipples at peaks as you continue to clench repeatedly around his cock.Â
 âKnow you can, baby, cum on this cock again. Youâre a strong cowgirl, ainâtâcha? You been thinkinâ âbout this all day, getting this pretty girl drilled by me, know ya have.â
And heâs right. Shamefully so. Denying Joel looks good in and out of his cowboy attire is just nonsense. The way he rides his horse with his thighs snagged tight around its middle, gnawing on his toothpicks to ward off the need to smoke a cigarette or chew; at this point, itâs everything that he does that turns you on.Â
And maybe thatâs why itâs so easy to give him a second one.Â
Your nails pierce into his skin as your hands grip his biceps, mewling and moaning something wrecked, feeling the warmth gather deep in your belly once more.Â
âKeep fuckinâ me, I didnât say to stop,â you pant.
Joel disguises his laughter by meeting your lips with his own, giving you messy kisses that taste better than perfect ones. His hips and fingers work in tandem to force you over the edge. Youâre shaking under him, your thigh muscles twitching with excitement, legs wrapping around his middle as he grows closer to his own finish.Â
Just as he feels like heâs going to give way, he can feel your pussy clenching around his aching cock, his tip brushing so perfectly against that spongy spot that sets your insides alight.Â
âFuck,â he grits, ripping himself loose of your perfectly wasted cunt as he yanks over his length. One, two, three more times, and heâs spilling warm spend across your belly. The pretty splatters are like a Jackson Pollock. He stares in awe at how pretty you look getting finished on.Â
The bed dips as he falls into place beside you. He doesnât lay idle. He reaches for some tissues from his bedside table, politely wiping away his mess as you stare at him with lustful eyes. You were so fucked out. Sorta cute.Â
âQuit,â he mutters, avoiding your eyes.Â
âYou ainât as old as I thought you were.â You whisper, a smirk tugging on the corners of your mouth.Â
Joel chuckles softly at your familiar tease. He's heard it countless times, but it never ceases to make him roll his eyes and pull you closer to him. He kisses your forehead affectionately, his voice carrying a hint of playful banter.
âYou gonna keep remindin' me about my age every chance you get? Donât stop ya from cominâ back each night.â
You lay your head on his chest and listen to his heart thump.Â
Joelâs got one arm slung around your shoulders, the other on your thigh thatâs draped across his middle. His strong hand works slowly into your tired muscles. You play with the greying curls on his chest, taking note of the dark, nearly black ones still speckled throughout.Â
âGoodnight, old cowboy.â You say, patting his chest, hearing his slow laughter rumble from his chest.Â
âGânight, pain in my ass.âÂ
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#joel miller#joel miller smut#pedro pascal#pedro pascal the last of us#pedro pascal joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller one shot#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#tlou#tlou fic#the last of us#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller x reader#joel tlou
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Amazing Natural Horse Products
These are amazing natural horse products that are really helping horses naturally. I have had great success with these products.
These are amazing natural horse products that are really helping horses naturally. I have had great success with these products. Iâve used a variety of them. I have healed up badly scraped up legs to helping one focus. Used the KnotEz mane and Tail detangler and conditioner to undo dreadlocks. Got rid of long term and newly formed sarcoids and warts using Sarcoid & Wart Off. Really liking whatâŠ
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But Daddy I Love Him - Jacaerys Velaryon
A/N: Oh hi! First of all, thanks for all the love on my last Jace fic. I'm sorry it's taken so long to post my next, I've had a crazy couple of weeks, but I wanted to make to get something out before this week's episode. I can't believe there's just 3 eps left of the season! I am hoping to get my Jace chapter fic out before then, so I have put most of my focus there. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!!
TS Prompt #8: But Daddy I Love Him
Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Lannister!Reader Word Count: 5.3k Synopsis: Jace and the reader fall in love, much to the displeasure of the reader's father.
Warnings: smut
Jacaerys Velaryon is beautiful.
It is tourney day in King's Landing, and your eyes are stuck to him as he makes his way out into the arena. Around you, there are scattered conversations whispered not low enough, about how the prince has matured in the last year, how handsome he has become.
He has not yet put his helmet on. This leaves his hair out, curls whipping around him in the gentle breeze. He flicks his hair back and there is a chorus of awes around you. You smirk at the reaction.
"The arrogance," your father, Jason Lannister, mutters from your side. You barely spare him a glance, not wanting to remove your eyes from Jacaerys.
"What do you mean?" you ask.
"He's showing off," your father says, disgust in his voice.
"It is a tourney," you say, "Isn't that the point?" He doesn't respond, just continues to monitor the arena space.
Jacaerys mounts his horse and with bated breath, you watch as he accepts the lance from the Master of Revels. His opponent is a knight you haven't met yet, a Ser Estermont. He has done well in the tourney so far, though, which makes you nervous.
As both men prepare to make their joust, you lean forward in your seat, needing to see as closely as possible, what is about to happen.
Unlike the matches before, this one is over in one round. Jacaerys aims his lance to the perfect angle, and expertly knocks over the knight from Greenstone.
Applause erupts from the viewing gallery, and you nearly stand up and cheer, you are so relieved about his win. Jacaerys rides around the stands and stops in front of the gallery you sit in. He lifts off his helmet and smiles in a way that makes your heart race.
"Lady Y/N," he says, and you think you hear discontented sighs from behind you. "Might I request your favor, that I may excel through the rest of this tournament?" You smile and reach for your wreath of flowers. For one moment, your father grips your wrist, as if he means to keep you from going. But it does not last long. No matter what your father may think of Jacaerys, he is still the prince, and future heir to the the throne. To deny him would mean scandal.
As you approach the railing, you try to fight off the grin at seeing him. Jacaerys extends his lance so that you may drop the wreath onto it easily.
"Thank you, My Lady," he says, eyes locked onto yours.
"Good luck, My Prince."
He rides off into the arena, garnering more applause from the stands, as you return to your seat. There are jealous eyes upon you. Even your father looks angry. But you pay them no mind. There will be more rounds, and Jacaerys is sure to succeed time and again, which will have him request the favor of more ladies.
Smiling as you sit down, you think of the girls who will bestow upon him their own wreaths. You might even feel bad for them, for surely, they will assume that his attention means he might court them. But you know that his affections lie only with you.
To you, the prince was just Jace, and you had loved him since you were a girl. Three months ago, he had declared his love for you, too, and ever since, the two of you had been hiding your love, waiting for the right moment to proclaim your intentions.
"He did quite well," you say to your father, making another effort to talk up Jacaerys to him.
"Ser Estermont was an easy opponent," your father says, disinterest and dismissal reflected in his tone.
Once the tournament is over, Jace makes his way into the castle. Several lords and ladies stop him on his way, congratulating him on his victory. He thanks them in passing, his thoughts only on getting into the castle, where he knows he will find you.
There is a feast to be held after the tournament, and while most everyone heads that way, he dismisses himself, saying he wishes to change before then.
When he turns down the hallway towards his quarters, the area is empty. The guards that usually stand at his door were at the tourney and are now sitting down for the feast.
You come around the other end of the hallway, your red dress immediately drawing his eye. You glance around cautiously before breaking into a run, launching yourself into his arms. He catches you easily, laughing as his arms settle around you.
"Oh," you say on a breath, pulling back just enough to face him, "You have no idea how worried I was for you."
"Have you so little faith?" he asks with a smile.
"I believed in you," you say, hand to his chest, "But belief doesn't change the fear that comes at watching a lord twice your size sprint at you with a lance."
"I'm alright," he says, his hands running gently along your back. You smile at him and lean in to kiss his lips softly. Jace hums contentedly into the kiss, his arms wrapping tighter around you as he pulls you into a corner and deepens the kiss.
Together, you stay locked there for a long moment, relishing the quiet that is so hard to find. Jace's hands travel through your hair and over your body, greedy to get his fill of you while he has you.
"I should get to the feast," you say softly when you break for air, your forehead pressed to his.
"Stay with me," he says, entwining his hand with yours.
"My father will be looking for me," you say. Jace's smile drops. "I'm trying," you say, "To sway him to our favor."
"I know you are."
"Your victory today should help with that," you say, giving him a small smile. "Congratulations, by the way."
"Thank you, My Lady," he says with a laugh. "I'll see you at the feast."
"Yes, My Prince."
By the next week, your father's attitude still hasn't changed. At the feast, you tried to talk about the prince, but he wouldn't hear anything of it. Jace had even come over to greet your family. Your father was diplomatic and only spoke to the prince for as long as he had to.
"I don't get why he won't give his blessing," you say, looking down at Jace. His head is in your lap, his eyes closed. He is so peaceful at this moment, you hate to bring this up again, but there seem to be fewer and fewer times for the two of you to be together. Even now, you are supposed to be with other ladies of the court, practicing your needlework. Instead, you snuck off to the Godswood to be with Jace amongst the blossoming trees.
"I'd be queen one day," you continue. "What more could he want for me?" Jace opens his eyes and looks at you with a frown.
"It's because of the rumors about me," he says lowly. You want to say he's wrong, but you wouldn't even believe yourself. The rumors of Jace's parentage had only grown in the last few years. It seemed that as he became older, and King Viserys grew sicker, the accusations only multiplied.
"I don't care about that, though," you say brushing your fingers through his hair.
"You should," he says, taking your hand in his own. "There are some who would see my brothers and I slain, rather than see us inherit our birthright."
"All the great houses swore allegiance to your mother," you say, squeezing his hand. "And you are her trueborn son. To do so would be--"
"Treason," he says, "But there are still those who would try it."
"My father wouldn't," you say. "As stubborn as he is, he is loyal to King Viserys, and by extension, your mother." Jace sits up, a serious expression on his face.
"Tensions are high amongst my family," he says, taking your hands in his. "In the entire kingdom, really. I am worried what may happen. Your father is smart, and that is why he must worry, too."
"You all fear something that may never come to pass," you say, "Are we to be separated in the name of what ifs?"
"We are to be separated until we can convince your father that I can keep you safe."
"And how do we do that?" you ask. Jace lays his head back on your lap.
"I don't know," he says.
The room is dark when you enter your father's quarters that night. He sent word to your lady's maid to see him immediately, but she couldn't find you until now, because you and Jace had been intwined in the Godswood all afternoon.
"Lady Clegane said she did not see you today," your father says right away, before you can even greet him. "Were you not to be under her tutelage this afternoon?"
"I don't need to study my needlepoint, Father," you say, stopping in front of him. "No man alive cares how well his wife can stitch."
"You were with the prince, weren't you?" he asks, standing. He towers over you, but you hold your head high, meeting his gaze.
"Why don't you like him?" you ask. He merely shakes his head.
"It is not a daughter's job to pick her husband," he says, "That duty lies with her father."
"And who would you have me marry instead? A lesser lord of the Westerlands? Someone directly under your control?"
"If that is what I demanded, yes," he says, bracing your arms. "I raised you to obey me, Y/N."
"No, you raised me to cage me," you say, tugging from his grip. "I would be Jacaery's queen! There isn't a more advantageous match out there for me. Yet you refuse to even hear us out, because it is not of your doing!" His face reddens, a telltale sign of his rage. You have never raised your voice to him before, and are now slightly scared of what he may do.
"I think it's time you return to Casterly Rock," he says lowly.
"What?" you ask, momentarily stunned.
"Your time in King's Landing is over," he says firmly. "You have become disobedient and careless."
"Father--"
"Do you think I am the only one who sees it, Y/N?" he asks, taking your hands in his desperately. His eyes are wide and pleading. "Do you think no one saw the two of you in the Godswood today? That no one can see the secret looks you exchange? That family is shameless, and I will have you take no part in it.
"I will not allow your reputation to be ruined by the prince's," he says. Tears begin to form at the finality of his words.
"When do I leave?" you ask, setting your jaw as you fight off the tears.
"I'll escort you the day after tomorrow, so you can make your goodbyes," he says. He can't meet your eyes.
"Very well."
Jace is speechless when you tell him. He found you sitting outside of his chambers the next night, tears streaming down your face. He invited you inside, a hurtle the two of you had yet to pass until then, and held you close while you told him your fate.
"We'll only have tonight," you say quietly.
"Maybe it's for the better."
"How can it be when it separates us?" you ask, looking up at him with watery eyes.
"Just for now," he says, brushing your hair back gingerly. "When things relax, we can try to convince him again."
"How long will that be?" you ask, "He'll have me married off as soon as possible, I know." Jace frowns down at you, his eyes searching for an answer in yours, that he knows he can't find.
"I won't stop fighting for you, Y/N," he says. "I promise."
"I won't either."
"We'll find a way," he says. You nod your head, a new wave of tears incoming, and relax into his chest. He holds you in his arms for a long time, his had tracing patterns along your back. The fire is nearly out in his hearth, and the room grows dark quickly.
"When did he say he wanted you back?"
"Fuck what he said," you say, looking at him intently. "I am not leaving your side tonight." With a hand to his cheek, you bring your lips together. The kiss is slow, a bit salty with the tears streaming down your face, but it is all he has ever wanted. He tries not to think about the fact that this might very well be the last time he ever gets to taste your lips, ever gets to hold you.
But it seems that your thoughts go there as well. Quickly, the kiss turns passionate. Your teeth scrape against his lip, like you can take him with you to Casterly Rock. His hands move down your body, to places he hasn't dared to explore yet. As one, the two of you move, so that he has you pinned to the couch, his body atop yours in a way he's only dreamed about before. You moan into his kiss as his body rocks into yours.
âY/N,â he says breathlessly, forcing himself to break away from your kiss. Your lips are red, swollen from his touch. Your hair is spread out around you in a cascade of curls. It is torture to see you like this and not bring his body clashing into yours again.
âWhat?â you ask, your hand trailing down his chest, as if you need to touch him however you can.
âWe should stop.â
âWhy?â
âIf anyone ever found out, you would be disgraced. Your father already doesnât like me, I donât want to give him any other reason toââ
âIâll tell you something right now,â you say, âMy good name is mine alone to disgrace. Being here with you now, doesnât change a single thing about my honor.â
"Are you sure?"
"I need you, Jace," you whisper. You are barely able to finish the words before his mouth meets yours again, fiercer than before. He doesn't stay there too long. He needs to taste you everywhere, savor every moment he's got left with you.
His lips move across your face and down your neck. He loves the sounds you make when he bites down softly, the way your back arches your body into his. He sits the two of you up for just a moment, so that he can pull at the laces along your back.
When the top of your dress falls, he stares at your bare chest for a long moment. You smile at him, your skin flushed.
"You are so beautiful," he says. You grab hold of his face, kissing him again as you fall back onto the couch. Jace palms your breast, kneading gently as you whimper into his mouth. You pull at his clothes, too, until you rip his shirt off over his head.
Skin to skin now, Jace breaks from your lips to kiss down your chest. He lingers for a moment on your breasts, but his need to take you is growing too urgent. He moves down lower, tugging your dress down with him until you are fully exposed to him.
"Y/N," he says on a sigh, marveling at the sight of you.
"I love you."
"I love you," he says, dropping his lips to the folds at your center. The moan you let out is nearly enough to send him over, but he won't deny himself the opportunity to feel what it's like to be inside of you. He focuses on your pleasure, kissing the sensitive bud at the apex of your thigh, watching your face with rapt attention, seeing what action makes you cry out, which makes you thrust into him.
When you cry out his name, his watches proudly as your body clenches, waves of pleasure roll through you. Jace keeps up his actions for a few moments longer, tasting and savoring the moment as you come down.
When he sits up, he watches the rise and fall of your chest, the satisfied smile on your face. He kisses your lips passionately, treasuring the little sounds of happiness you make as he does.
He drops his trousers next, rubbing his cock against your slick folds. He presses into you slowly, barely able to keep his control, his need is so great. You gasp as you take him in, grabbing hold of his shoulders. He begins to rock into you, his movements gentle. As your sounds become more frequent, he picks up his pace, until the only sound he can hear is your cries of pleasure, and the collision of your two bodies.
He comes soon after that, his body collapsing on top of yours. For a long while, the two of you lay there, sweaty and happy, waiting for your breathing to return to normal.
"Jace," you say on a breath, breaking the silence first.
"Yes, my love?" he asks, his eyes meeting yours.
"This cannot be the last time," you say, cupping his cheek.
"It won't be. We'll find a way, I swear."
It's early morning when you return to your chambers. Your father collects you an hour later, and although the look he gives you suggests that he knows where you were, thankfully, he doesn't say anything.
The journey to Casterly Rock is long, taking nearly three weeks, and the entire time, your thoughts are on Jace. You bring him up a few times with your father, but after the most recent, he stops looking at you, stops speaking altogether, and rides astride his horse, leaving you alone with your thoughts.
When the news of King Viserys's death breaks, you hear it from your lady's maid. You shoo her away when she tries to finish braiding your hair. You know you should feel sad - Viserys was a great king, and had been sick for a long time. The last time you saw him, he looked like a walking corpse, and you had to avert your gaze.
But his passing means that Rhaenyra will be crowned queen. She will return from Dragonstone, where she fled just a week after you left King's Landing, and Jace with her.
You run from your chambers and burst into your parents' quarters, and find them talking in hushed, urgent tones. Your mother turns at your arrival and the look on her face scares you. There is panic in her gaze, mixed with a sadness that seems to grow when she sees you.
"Y/N," she says softly.
"I just heard the news."
"Yes."
"I expect we'll be leaving for King's Landing soon?" you ask, looking to your father. "For Princess Rhaenyra's coronation?"
"My dear," your mother says, a hand out to call you to her side. "Maybe you should sit down."
"What is it?" you ask as she sits you down in front of their empty hearth.
"Rhaenyra is not going to be queen," your father says.
"What do you mean?"
"Aegon has been crowned."
"He usurped the throne?" you ask in shock. "Are we gathering our bannerman? Should we--"
"Y/N," your father says with a sigh, taking your hands as he sits across from you. "We won't be calling our bannerman. We are supporting King Aegon."
"You swore allegiance to Rhaenyra," you say icily, looking between your parents' faces.
"I can't explain it all to you, daughter. There is much you don't understand."
"Uncle Tyland?" you ask quietly. Certainly, your level-headed uncle would see reason, when your father could not.
"He sits upon Aegon's small council," your father says.
"How long has this been planned?" you ask, moving away from your parents. The room suddenly feels too suffocating. Watching them, waiting for their response, you catch a quick look between your parents.
"How long have you known about this, Father?" you ask, stepping closer to look him in the eye.
"Rhaenyra was never going to be queen," he says lowly. "Regardless of the parentage of her sons. Although, that certainly didn't help her cause." You pull back from him, a look of disgust on your face. "And Aegon will make a good king."
"What will happen to Rhaenyra? To her sons?" you ask, the second question coming out broken. He doesn't answer. You look to your mother, hoping for some words of support from her, but she shares the same sad look on her own face.
"You've known this for so long . . ." you say, thoughts racing, "That's why you wouldn't approve an engagement between Prince Jacaerys and I."
"Yes," he says, "And I won't feel sorry for it. He'll be killed, no doubt. I don't want the same fate for you."
"But Daddy," you cry, calling him by a name you haven't in years, feeling as helpless as if you were still that child, "I love him!"
"It's already done, Y/N," he says, pain in his eyes. You let out a strangled sound before sliding down the wall.
"I'm having his baby," you say through a sob.
"What?" your mother asks urgently, crouching at your side. "What do you mean?" But no words come to you. The tears are falling too fast, any words choked by hiccupping.
Eventually, they bring you to your room. They both asked more questions about the baby, but you don't answer them, you can't. You don't trust them.
Your father had known this fate would befall Rhaenyra, would befall her sons. He knew you loved Jace, and he still let it all happen.
The next morning, your mother comes into your room. Her eyes are bloodshot, with dark circles underneath them. She brings you a cup of tea and kisses your forehead, before she says anything.
"Tell me about the baby," she says. "Are you certain?"
"No," you admit, bringing your knees to your chest. "But I haven't had my blood in a few weeks." Your mother nods and looks down sadly at her own drink.
"You'll need to drink moon tea," your mother says softly.
"I won't."
"Then you'll need to get married immediately, and claim the child as your new husband's."
"I won't do that either."
"Y/N," she begins with a sigh.
"You've already slammed the door on my whole world, I won't let you take this one last piece of him I have. If I am to have his child, I will keep it and I won't claim it as anyone else's."
"You'll be ruined," she says. "And if Aegon finds out that your child is Jacaerys's--"
"He won't. Nobody needs to know."
"Your father won't like this," she says gently. "You do not wish to make him angry."
"He's been angry. I've made my decision."
The next week, your cycle arrives, and you cry all day long.
"Sending another raven?" Rhaenyra asks, stepping out onto the cool balcony beside Jace. He gives her a tight lipped smile and nods. "Have you heard back from her?"
"Here and there," he says. He has been sending ravens to you for the past two weeks.
"I'm sorry your feelings fell into the middle of this mess."
"You have nothing to apologize for, Mother," he says seriously. She gives him a sad smile, a palm to his cheek.
"Baela tells me you have a plan to get her out," she says. Jace looks at her with wide eyes. He hadn't technically asked her permission, and what he was doing would be dangerous for their position.
"I know I should have told you," he starts.
"Yes, you should have. I would like to help," she says. She laughs at the bewildered look on Jace's face. "Do you think I would let you suffer here, knowing she's there, probably suffering too? Tell me your plan, Jace."
So he does. He gives her the same instructions he just sent to you. She gives him her support, while offering a few suggestions. She leaves him on the balcony after, giving him space to think over his plan, and to try and quell the hope building up inside of him.
All he is waiting for is one word from you, and he will enact this plan.
A day later, a raven knocks at his window, waking him from sleep. He leaps up immediately to grab its message, and finds just one word, written in your handwriting.
Yes.
On the morning of your escape, you awake with a smile on your face. It has been weeks since you felt anything at all. Your lady's maid enters into the room to ready you for the day, and you greet her, "Good morning."
"Good morning, My Lady," she says, looking at you in bewilderment. You're not sure you've spoken to her since you arrived at Casterly Rock. "I trust you slept well, then?"
"The best yet," you say.
As she moves about the room, getting your clothing together, you make sure to pick out the dullest dress in your wardrobe. When she sits you down to do your hair, you have her tuck your tendrils into a woven braid. Everything for indiscretion, or this plan will not work out.
When you walk into the breakfast room, your parents are gathered around a table. You give them a kind smile, playing the part of the dutiful daughter, knowing that your plans for escape were all laid.
"Good morning," your mother says, an air of suspicion in her voice.
"Morning," you say, sitting down next to her. "Good morning, Father."
"You haven't forgotten about your commitment today, I hope?" your father asks.
"No, I remember I am meeting with Lord Lannys today," you say innocently. He studies you for a moment like he doesn't believe you, but then his expression changes, or he forces it to. He forces himself to believe that you have finally pulled out of your darkness.
"Perhaps I'll accompany you down there," he says, "It's been a while since I have checked in on Lannisport."
"No," you say quickly. "You said you'd let me go with just a few guards."
"So I did."
"I have so little freedom," you say, "Am I to be chaperoned every day of my life?" The look on your father's face is one of remembrance, that this is the behavior he expects from his daughter.
"You will stay close to your guards," he says firmly.
"Of course."
"Our world is not as safe as it once was."
"I know."
"Very well."
You thank him and your mother, and when you bid them farewell, it is bittersweet. You try to see them as the loving parents you had when you were younger, but now you only see the causes of your heartbreak, and know that you're making the right call.
"When will she be here?" Joffrey asks impatiently, for the third time.
"Soon, I think," Jace answers.
"Why has it taken so long?"
"You don't have to wait with me, Joff," he says with a look to the younger boy. "It takes a long time to get here from the Westerlands."
In his plan, Jace had wanted to assure that your route would not be easily followable. The plan was for you to go to Lannisport and get aboard a ship that would take you to Seaguard. From there, you would travel by horse to Gulltown, where the Arryns would assure you passage to Dragonstone.
Yesterday, he got word that you arrived to Gulltown safely. If all went well, you would be in Dragonstone anytime now.
But the waiting was agony. Many times, Jace thought about saddling Vermax and flying out to you, just to get one glimpse of you. He knew himself, though, and knew that if he saw you, even from the air, he wouldn't want to let you out of his sights. He needed to wait patiently.
He was as bad as Joffrey, though.
When he finally sees your ship on the horizon, his heart starts beating faster. He rushes from his balcony and makes his way through the castle. Joffrey tries to keep up, but Jace loses him somewhere along the steps leading down to the shore.
Jace gets to the pier just as the small boat does. He doesn't think he is breathing as you step off the boat. Your eyes are searching for his and when they find him, a smile breaks across your face. You run towards him and he does the same, meeting you in the middle of the pier.
The second you are in his arms, you break down into tears. You cling to every part of him, your hands needing to touch him, needing to know that he is well. He realizes he is doing the same, his hand tangled in your hair, the other on your back.
"Oh, it's so good to see you," you say, pulling back just enough to look him over. Before Jace can say anything, you kiss him quickly, but fiercely.
"I'm so glad you're here," he says, hugging you again. You laugh, squeezing him just as tight.
"You're probably exhausted," he says, taking your hand and leading you back towards the castle. "You've had a long journey."
"Just a month," you say with a shrug, making him laugh.
"Well, you deserve your rest. I'll bring you right to my room," he says, "But there's one thing you'll have to do first."
"What's that?" you ask, furrowing your brow.
"Speak to my mother."
Dragonstone castle is not that much different from King's Landing, but it's unfamiliar, and unwelcoming. At least, the men sitting around Rhaenyra are. As you stand before them, some of your courage starts to slip.
"I am relieved to see you here safely, Lady Y/N," Rhaenyra says with a gentle smile.
"Thank you, Your Grace," you say. She stands and moves closer to you.
"I am sorry for having to do this, but seeing as your house has pledged their support to my brother, I have to ask where you allegiance lies," she says, stopping in front of you.
"With you, of course," you say immediately.
"You must know the risks, Y/N," she says, "You could very well be killed for supporting my claim and Jace's." For a moment, you glance back at your prince, and gather strength from his encouraging look.
"I'd burn my whole life down before I listen to another second of my father's scheming, and well before I bend the knee to Aegon Targaryen," you say.
"I love your son very much, I would never do anything to jeopardize his future, or yours, My Queen." Rhaenyra gives you a smile that is so much like her sons. She nods her head.
"Thank you, Y/N. Welcome to Dragonstone."
"Thank you, Your Grace," you say. Before you can even turn around, Jace's hand is in yours. He is looking down at you with a smile.
"Come on," he says, pulling on your hand gently. He leads you through the castle, up to his chambers, which will now be your own, he explains.
Once the doors close behind you, he is upon you, wrapping you in his arms as he kisses you. You smile into the kiss, realizing that this is not a dream, or just a passing moment. You'll get to stay in his arms for the rest of your lives.
"I love you," you say when you break away. "Thank you for getting me out of there."
"You're my lady, Y/N," he says, "And very soon I'll make you my princess. Of course I sent for you. I love you."
You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing your body into his again as your lips connect again.
"You must be exhausted," he says breathlessly. "You'll want to sleep."
"All I want is right here."
#jacaerys velaryon x reader#jacaerys velaryon x you#jacaerys velaryon#jacaerys x reader#jacaerys x you#jacaerys velaryon smut#jacaerys velaryon fanfic#jacaerys velaryon fanfiction#hotd#hotd fanfic#hotd imagine#hotd fanfiction
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The Succession
Summary: After the battle of Rookâs Rest, Queen Y/N is forced to rule alongside Prince Regent Aemond, in an attempt to keep her children safe and eventually seat her mother, Rhaenyra, on the throne. While attending her husband, on what appears to be his deathbed, she begins to unravel the dark truth of his near passing.
Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader
âBehold, the traitor dragon, Meleys. Slain by King Aegon.â
Cole mightâve bellowed anything before the mention of Y/Nâs husband and she would not have heard it. Breaching the castle doors, out onto the streets, where the smallfolk stare in wonder. The Queen has scarcely been seen in the days following her husbandâs accession, leaving many to wonder if she still lives.
Here she stands, in the flesh, walking about them like a commoner. âWhere is Aegon?â She finds Ser Criston, keeping pace beside his horse.
âYou mustnât be about, your grace. It is not safe.â
âWhere is my husband?â
Ser Gwayne looks back toward his fallen nephew, now carried by men.
âNo,â Y/N shakes her head, falling in line with the oversized box one might mistake for a casket. She canât see much of anything through the slats.
âYou must return to the castle, my Queen.â Cole circles back for her. âHis Grace will need you at his side.â
âHeâs alive?â Y/N breathes.
âWhen last I checked.â
She nods, remaining beside her husband as he is carted into the castle, up the stairs to his chambers. The maesters await him, peeling away armor and bits of charred flesh with it, to reveal the extent of his injuries.
âIs my son going to die?â Alicent asks.
âHe is badly burned.â The maester informs the Queen dowager.
âMen survive burns.â Y/N says, holding a hand to her belly, attempting to quell the churning.
âHe has many broken bones.â
âBones heal.â
The grand maester sighs, âthat is our hope, your grace.â
What lies beneath his breastplate is naught but more red, angry skin, or lack there of. Alicent comes round to Y/N, a rare occasion, resting a hand on her shoulder. âMayhaps it is best you step away.â
âI will stay,â Y/N shakes her head, âif anything happens⊠I must stay.â Hold his hand as he goes, if it comes to it.
Alicent nods, withdrawing.
Aegonâs breathing is something awful. Men survive burns. Bones heal.
An eternity passes in that room, on bated breath. Eventually the maesters begin clearing out, leaving the King to mutter, incoherently.
âYour grace.â The grand maester turns to Y/N. âIt is done.â
âThank you, Grand Maester. For all you have done, I- I owe you a debt.â
The man takes her hand, âwe can only do so much to aid in the kingâs healing, I believe it is you he needs. Be his strength.â
Y/N nods, âof course.â She makes herself comfortable upon the mattress beside him as the doors close, giving them a moment alone.
Aegonâs mumblings grow louder, though still impossible to make sense of.
âShhh,â Y/N hushes him, brushing hair from his face. âThere is nothing to fear. You need onlyâŠget better for me. I will tend the council shortly, but I shall return.â
He quiets then, as though her gentle reassurance is all he wanted.
âI will not abandon you. Not now, not ever. Rest easy, my love. You are safe now.â She presses a kiss to his forehead, before taking the stairs down to join the small council.
Those sitting around the table are already in deep discussion, gaping at the Queenâs entrance, standing to greet her.
âSo kind of you to wait for me, my lords.â Y/N smiles, taking her ball from the center.
âWe thought you might be with his grace, the king.â The hand explains. âHe will be expecting you when he wakes.â
âI am not sure he will ever wake.â The grand maester cuts in. âHis fate lies with the gods now.â
âGive it time.â Y/N sniffs, âit has been mere hours since his return.â
âIf Aegon could wake, he would have done so for you.â Alicent decides. âA king cannot rule in his sleep, we must appoint a regent to serve in his absence.â
âI am awake.â Y/N reminds them.
âMy Queen,â Tyland Lannister interjects, âif I may be so bold. Your lord husband has been wounded in battle, he will need your tender hand if we hope him to make any sort of recovery.â
âThat is very thoughtful of you, Lord Tyland.â Y/N replies, in a measured tone. Should she lose her head before the council, there will be no coming back from it. âStill, I am willing and able to rule.â
âIn the event of his graceâs untimely death, we must be prepared to proceed with the succession.â
âUnderstandably, and we do not lack heirs. My husband and I have four children.â Y/N shifts in her chair. âAssuming, as you have, that the men of the realm will never accept a woman on the throne, we then pass the crown to our first born son.â To charm the snakes, you must behave as a snake.
The council looks to each other. âPrince Laenor is but two years of age, our next ruling king, by law; though too young to presently serve.â
âI will advise him, I am his mother.â
Alicent rises from her seat, âmight I humbly suggest myself? I have already done so during my late husbandâs long illness-â
âWhich was fine then?â Y/N arches a brow, âa wife to rule in her husbandâs absence.â
Alicent lowers her gaze. âThis is different.â
âBecause I am your enemyâs daughter and named heir,â Y/N huffs. âRules for thee, not for me. Isnât that right?â
âMind yourself.â
âOr what?â Y/N lifts a shoulder, âyou will usurp my husband, as you did my mother?â
âViserys changed his mind.â Alicent says, with finality. âI am sorry for whatâs happened, but with his dying breath, he wished for Aegon to be king. I pray you do not hear a similar whisper from your husband anytime soon.â
âI love my husband,â Y/N seethes, âlet that be known.â
âOf course, my Queen.â
âWhatever the members of this council intend to do now will be spoken plainly, in my presence.â Y/N demands, staring down at her wedding ring.
âI believe it is in our best interest to appoint Prince Aemond as Regent, until our King has been restored.â Ser Criston announces, âas hand, I know the kingâs greatest concern is the safety and well being of his wife and children. We must honor that, in these unprecedented times.â
Y/N swallows, âvery well.â
âMy Queen.â Aemond reaches past her for the council ball, abandoned by her husband.
ââââââââââââââââââââââââ
Y/N goes through the motions, putting their children to bed. All is well, my darlings. Father needs only rest. When they have each found sleep, she returns to Aegon. Speaking to him the same way she always has, as though he can hear.
âThe men of the council are restless in your absence. They circle like vultures now,â Y/N chokes out, touching the unmarred skin of his face. âAnd I am alone in thisâŠ.I have never been alone.â
If she knew no better, she could swear his fingers twitch against hers. Mayhaps she is gripping them too tightly. She releases his hand, much to Aegonâs dismay, grumbling his discontent.
âHush now, I am here and you are here. The rest will sort,â Y/N reminds him.
She watches him then, the heaving rise and fall of his chest, wrapped in bandages. Men survive burns. Bones heal.
In time, Alicent joins her at Aegonâs side. âHas there been any change?â
âNo,â Y/N shakes her head.
âYou are kind to be here, he loves nothing in the world as he loves you. I am sure your presence alone is a comfort to him.â
âThat is my hope,â Y/N admits.
âI will leave you to it.â Alicent offers a hint of a smile, making for the door.
âMummy.â
Y/N hears it, his mother does not. âAlicent,â she calls her back.
Alicent flicks away tears before turning round, âwhat is it?â
âHeâs asking for you.â
âF-for me?â
Y/N nods, giving his hand a squeeze.
Alicent returns to his bedside, passing a hand over the side of his face. âIâm here.â
He draws in a rattling breath, âprotect her.â Aegon stumbles over the words. âPlease, Mummy.â
Y/N inhales sharply, hushing him.
Alicent locks eyes with her daughter by law. I pray you do not hear a similar whisper from your husband anytime soon. âI will do this, for you, Aegon. You neednât worry.â
Aegon says nothing else, succumbing to sleep once more.
Alicent excuses herself, with a nod.
Y/N muffles the sound of her cries in the hand which isnât holding his. Sheâs only half awake by the time she hears footfall and whispering at the end of her husbandâs bed.
âWas it worth the price?â Helaena asks.
âIâve no idea what you mean, my darling.â Aemond mutters, brushing his lips against her cheek.
Part 2
#house of the dragon#aegon targaryen x you#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon targaryen#hotd aegon#aegon imagine#aegon targaryen fanfic
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Lucifer breaks your deal with Alastor
ă»â„ Your soul is owned by Alastor, and Lucifer is not pleased about it.
x: OVER 20k words!? strap in yaâll, itâs a roller coaster.
xx: reader is g/n. no use of y/n. if you want to read it in chapter-form, you can read it over on my ao3 here.
warnings: adult themes, abuse, angst
âAlright, deep breaths. Youâve got this. Youâve practiced this so much itâs a cakewalk, so just take it easy. Youâll rock it, like always.â
âOi! Welcome to the show, ya dirty sinners! Didnât think yaâd see me all the way up here, didâja?!â
Screams and cheers echoed from the seats below, as the voice of the King of Greed boomed from the loudspeakers.Â
"Well, listen up, ya pitiful souls! I've got a craving for some more cash, so I've decided to bring the whole shebang right here to the heart of sin, Pentagram City!"
The cheering erupted once more, the spotlights danced across the sandy pit underneath the large circus tent. On the perimeter were rows and rows of stands, packed with demons nestled against each other.
It was Mammonâs first circus show in the Pride Ring, a very rare sight to see him leave his cozy little ring in general. But, when a good portion of your fans are sinners who canât leave without being incinerated, then you have to receive them on their home turf.
In the large pit, two lions jumped obediently through hoops, their handlers shouting commands and cracking their whips to further spur the catâs maneuvers.
Bright green flame danced around the lionâs faces, resembling that of a large mane. Their eyes were soulless, black pits that glimmered in the bright lights as they continued maneuvers through the tight obstacles.
On the edges of the pit, support poles towered above the crowd. Thin wires snaked across them, anchored to large platforms that hung in the air from the poleâs side.
âAs ya can see, weâve got a big show tahânight! Lots of great fuckinâ acts for ya mongrels to eat up. But, before we get to the juicy bits, direct your eyes up to the ceiling to get a look at our first performance!âÂ
Hundreds of gazes lifted to sky, the spotlights below beaming upward towards a platform at one end of the tent.
Bright, white lights hit your vision, and you squinted your eyes to prevent them from burning to a crisp from the focused beams.
You stood, your bare feet planted firmly against the platformâs white surface. Before you, a tightrope connected your place to another platform in the distance, beckoning you.
A small hoop hung from the ceiling, encircling a small portion of the wire. The trick was that it was too small for you to stand up straight while walking through it, so youâd need to limbo underneath it.
"As you can see, we've got some sorry sap up there that is about to practically walk on thin air! See that hoop over there? They're fixin' to stroll right through it."
Small oohâs and ahhâs emanated from the crowd, their eyes darting from you to the hoop.
"But hold your horses, folks! That ain't your run-of-the-mill hoop, no sir! That, my friends, is a hoop on fuckinâ fire!!â
Suddenly, the hoop ignited in a burst of green flames, illuminating the area before you. Gulping, you took another deep breath, steadying yourself.
Okay, well, you knew that was gonna happen. Youâve just never actually practiced with the hoop on fire, but it shouldnât be too hard.. right?
You nodded to yourself, assuring your racing thoughts that everything was gonna be alright.
The skin-tight suit you were wearing sparkled in the spotlight, dazzling the spectators with a red gleam as you hovered right over the edge of the platform, waving to the crowd.Â
You had been performing ever since you could remember, and this was just another part of the job. You werenât a part of Mammonâs original crew though, only being given the opportunity when they arrived at Pentagram City.
You were a Sinner, which meant being confined to the Pride Ring just like the rest. Fortunately, one of Mammonâs acrobats was too sickly to perform, so when you saw the large poster detailing auditions, you jumped at the opportunity to make some extra bucks.
You had arrived at the settled convoy of vehicles and trailers at the outskirts of the city, you were ecstatic. You hadnât performed in an actual circus in forever, and the make-shift village of performers and equipment was a fresh sight.
Mammon himself was a⊠colorful character. He was a hard party rocker with a big ego, and most likely had a swear jar at home overflowing with pennies, with how that guy talked.
You hadnât really met him when you auditioned, but you could definitely hear him. He was loud, practically demanding everyoneâs attention even when he wasnât addressing them.Â
You could hear him yelling about an absent performer, annoyance evident in his voice as he berated an assistant.
"What do ya mean he couldn't make it to practice 'cause he lost his voice? He's a bloody mime, mate! What the hell are we payinâ these blokes for!?"
When you had performed for the recruitersâwhich you were surprised to find wasnât Mammon, since the guy seemed to stick his nose in everythingâyou displayed to them your . A few somersaults, a bit of ariel silk action, and the classic, juggling.Â
âHow good is your balance?â One of them had questioned, their pen tapping softly against the wooden desk, as they considered your skills.
âGood enough, I suppose.â You replied truthfully.
Long story short, you got the gig. Although, when you heard they wanted you to tightrope under a hoop, that was a little surprising.Â
Good thing you werenât afraid of heights, or this would have been a nightmare.
Backing away from the edge, your gaze rested on the hoop aflame in front of you. After Mammon would finish speaking, youâd begin your act.
"But that ain't the only thing heating up tonight, folks."
Wait, what did he mean by that?
ââCause the tightrope⊠is also on fire!!!âÂ
What?!
The crowd went berserk hearing that. They whooped and hollered, as their twisted little fantasies came true before their eyes.
âOh, god damnit, Mammon!â You muttered.
When you told them you had a pretty good pain tolerance, that did not mean resistance to fire!
You sighed, it was a little too late to back out now. Plus, you needed the money. Bouncing on your toes, you attempted to hype yourself up.
Exhaling a large breath, your foot lifted from the stand, and slowly reached out towards the tightrope.Â
âFuck, this is going to hurt.â you groaned internally, your toe just inches from the wire. You could feel the heat of the fire as it hungrily licked at your feet.Â
Right as you were about to place yourself onto the wire, you felt something tugging at the back of your collar.Â
It was deathly cold, and you tried to pull away from its touch, but whatever was holding you had a strong grip. A thick green fog-like substance pooled at your feet, and you looked down in confusion as it began to circle around your figure.
You felt the force on your collar harshly pull you backwards, and your feet lifted from the ground. The smoke became so thick in front of you, it was only the bright lights from the spotlights below that gave you any visual. Suddenly, large eyes began to dot your vision, staring directly at you, into your hollow being.
âWhat the fu-â
Darkness suddenly covered your vision, and you felt like you were floating in mid-air. Though, you couldnât tell where exactly in the air you were, other than the fact the surface below you had completely vanished.
You tried to peel your eyes open, but whatever had thrusted you into this chilling realm would not let you get a glimpse of your surroundings. It wasnât until you felt your feet hit firm ground, and a much less intense light hit your eyelids. You opened them slowly, your mouth still partially open.
â-ckkkk?â You finished, your eyes darting from one side of the mysterious room to the other. It looked strange.. to say the least. It was old, a little run down. It screamed tacky.Â
You observed the room again, trying to find anything familiar that could gauge your location.
Were you in a hotel lobby? But, why? How? Youâve never been here before, nor did you know anyone who stayed at such a dump.
âAh, there you are, my friend! What a pleasure to see you!â
You pivoted sharply to face behind you, and your eyes widened in shock at the familiar face.
Standing before you, a large toothy-grin plastered across his face, was Alastor. The owner of your soul, your eternal boss, the Radio Demon, and the butt end of most of your unfunny jokesâwhich you would never dare say in front of him.
âYou!â
Your finger lifted, pointing accusingly at the tall, red demon. He only tilted his head amusingly at you, that smile only growing wider as you frowned.
âYes, it is I. Iâm glad you remember my face, how are you today?âÂ
âWhat do you want?â You grumbled, ignoring his question. You crossed your arms before taking a step back. There were others behind him, but it was Alastor you were focused on as you waited for his response.
âOh, just some charity work. My new friends over here are in need of some more helping hands, so I took it upon myself to volunteer your services!âÂ
He motioned to the others behind him, and you glanced at the strangers. One of them was a woman with long, platinum-blonde hair, who smiled awkwardly at you with a wave.Â
âThatâs great!â You replied sarcastically, throwing your hands up in exasperation, âbut couldnât you wait until after my gig? I was about to make some good money!â
Alastor only sidled up to you, before wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you against his cheek as if you two were best friends. You wanted to recoil from his touch, but you knew youâd get nothing good out of that action.Â
âOh, I am terribly sorry about that, my friend. But, we do have an agreement, as I'm sure you are well aware. Which means, for the time being, youâll be living here at the hotel!â
Of course you were aware of the âagreementâ, the guy had your soul!Â
âWhat hotel?â
âThe Hazbin Hotel! What do you think about the name, hm? I came up with it myself!âÂ
âItâs kind of lame.âÂ
âOh-ho! You are such a charm, my dear! I can always count on you to liven up the room with your jokes.â
You sighed, uncrossing your arms and lowering them to your sides in defeat. You were stuck here, with Alastor, until he no longer needed your presence. As always.
âI still would have appreciated a call beforehand or something.âÂ
âTake my arrival back in the city as the call, my friend. My return was no doubt discussed by many. You knew Iâd acquire your assistance at some point.â
Yes, thatâs right. Alastor had been gone a good, what, seven years? It was strange, how he had just disappeared without a word or any kind of clue to his location. Where had he gone? Why was he being so secretive about it?
You didnât miss him, of course. His absence was a mini vacation for you, a break from endless favors that he deemed you worthy to complete. What a joke.
âNow, why donât we go and introduce you to all these fantastic fellows, hm?â He spoke, a command deep in his static-laced tone.
You turned back towards the small group of demons, who stood a few feet away silently as the two of you bickered. Standing slightly away from the rest, was a familiar furry face. Husker. He was here too?Â
Nudging you forward with his cane, you walked up to the onlookers, who regarded you with a mixed expression. The shorter gray lady stood glaring at you with suspicion, her eyes darting between you and Alastor.
Beside her, was that pretty pale-faced demon in the red tuxedo. She smiled broadly at you, her eyes practically gleaming in excitement at seeing the multiple new faces.
âHello! My name is Charlie, and this is my hotel! I'm so glad to have you aboard!âÂ
â..Hi, itâs good to meet you too.â
âLet me introduce you to our crew! Over there is my girlfriend, Vaggie!â
She motioned towards the shorter gray woman, and you looked at her more carefully. She had an X across her eye, barely visible with the long hair she situated across half her face. She still eyed you with suspicion, but her demeanor had softened as Charlie spoke to you.
âAnd, over there is Angel Dust, our first resident of the hotel!â
âHow ya doing, Sugar?â Angel winked at you, as he leaned against the bar counter. Husk stood behind the counter, a thin line on his lips.
âIâm sure youâre familiar with Husker and Niffty, right?âÂ
You nodded, your gaze meeting Huskâs. His eyes softened just a teeny bit, before he let out a hmph and turned away towards the shelves of bottles against the wall.
Your attention turned back to Charlie, as she began filling you in with the details about the hotel and her plans.
She seemed like a sweet girl, passionate and imaginative. When she described her dreams to you, for the hotel, for the entirety of Hell, you listened carefully.
Sinners.. being redeemed? Going to Heaven? That seemed too good to be true. Unbelievable, almost. Sure, some of the demons down here werenât too bad, but surely none of them were good enough to actually climb to the pearly gates.Â
Charlie seemed⊠different from other dreamers, though, like she could actually get it to work. You couldnât pinpoint exactly what made you think so. Maybe it was because she was the princess of Hell, and was the second highest on the food chain of this damned place.
You were lucky with how down-to-earth she was, or your bluntness would have probably gotten you smited by now.
In comparison to Charlie, you were a nobody. Well, you were nobody in general. You didnât own anything of value, not even your soul.
Charlie didnât act like a princess though. Such as how she spoke to you, and her friends. No command in her tone, no true motives behind layers of smiles and sweetly spoken lies.Â
If she was the owner of your soul, maybe life wouldnât be so bad. She treated everyone fairly, without judgment of who they used to be. Only dreaming of who they could be.
Was the King of Hell the same? How much did Charlie mirror her father, anyway?Â
âSo.. what can you do?â Charlie broke you from your thoughts, she was turned to you, her gaze meeting yours intently as she waited for you to respond.
âWell, I'm a performer! Mostly aerobatics, but I can dance and other tricks. Oh! Iâm also a crowd-pleaser, iâm a really smooth talker.â Â
âThatâs ssooooo cool! You do that kind of stuff, like, in the circus?â
âMostly, yes. Any odd jobs I can find looking for my skill set, really. Iâm not picky when it comes to money.â
Charlie contemplated your words for a moment, her eyes darting. Sheâs already got a bartender and a cleaning lady, but where to put youâŠ
âIâm also fantastic at pick-pocketing.â You grinned pridefully at her. It was something you were very good at, and that you had continued to perfect during your time in Hell.
It was also what led you to make that wretched deal with Alastor.Â
âOh.. um, letâs stick with your other skills, hm?â Charlie smiled awkwardly, before she turned her head, and her eyes landed on an empty desk situated near the large entrance doors.Â
She perked, her eyes widening in glee as she spun around towards you.Â
âThatâs it! You can be our new receptionist! Youâll answer calls and greet all our newcomers, and youâll be in charge of making sure all our guests are well taken care of during their stay.â
Your smile faltered, your gaze resting on the desk behind Charlie before meeting her eyes once more. You chuckled like she had just told you a good joke. Except when your eyes met hers again, she only smiled at you in anticipation.
Wait, was she serious?
âIâm sorry,â you started, lifting your hands up and shaking your head, âbut that is not something iâm good at nor-â
âWell I think itâs a splendid idea!â Alastor appeared besides you, his hand resting on your shoulder. His claws dug slightly into your suit, and you whipped your head up, eyeing him with animosity.Â
His eyes were squinted, a glare behind that wide grin. âStay in line, or else.â was his silent command. You scrunched up your nose, ready to argue, but the intellectual part of your brain smacked you upside the head.Â
Your shoulders drooped, that frown deepening before you turned to Alastor. You pulled your shoulder from his grip, and looked at Charlie.Â
âFine.â
And, thatâs how it was for a time.Â
There wasnât much to do, in all honesty. As the months ticked by, you sat at that desk drowning in boredom. The people at the hotel were lively, but the job? Not so much.
While Alastor was the face, you were the paperwork. Although, he barely acted like it, which meant you took most of the work.Â
There were barely any phone calls, any new visitors, anything new at all really. So, you instead filled your days with walking around the hotel, observing the rooms of any renovations that Alastor could make, or youâd write shopping lists for groceries and other miniscule items for the crew, and going out yourself to shop.Â
There was that one demon, the snake inventor, that had become a resident during your time working. You had been there, when he attacked Alastor on the hotelâs doorstep. Your mouth agape as you watched him tear a piece of your bossâs suit, waiting for the snake to meet his death.
He didnât, surprisingly. Instead, he had arrived not too long after apologizing. Which was shocking, and.. eye opening.Â
Could Charlieâs dream come true? Alastor spoke of it as if it would turn into nothing but a failure. You had believed him, but now, that doubt was fading from your mind.
Could.. there be a chance for you too?Â
You had mentally slapped yourself for that thought. You, redeemed? With no soul, you were trapped here. Only ever being able to watch from the sidelines as those more worthy ascended.Â
Thoughts like that only came when you had drank a little too much. Finger mindlessly circling the rim of your wine glass, brow furrowed as you lamented over your poor decisions, youâd sit at the bar in silence late at night.
Nobody bothered you during those times, not even Alastor. No one saw the way your lip began to quiver, the way your vision blurred with tears.
No one noticed the surface of your drink disturbed with a droplet of salty sadness as it mixed with the bitter alcohol.Â
âYou donât deserve to feel sorry for yourself,â youâd think bitterly, soaked anger spilling down your cheeks, âyou damned yourself to eternal suffering the moment you shook that demonâs hand.â
Taking the glass, youâd lift it to your lips and empty the rest of the contents. That salty tang still hanging on your tongue when you set the glass back down.
On the worst nights, youâd simply rest your head against the countertop. The cool surface refreshing to your warm cheek, as you curled into yourself, and drifted into a restless sleep.
When youâd wake a few hours later, your blood-shot, tired eyes would open to the sight of a glass of ice-cold water and a migraine pill sitting a few feet away from your face.Â
You never saw who catered to your hungover needs, but you had an inkling of a guess.
Lifting your head, youâd blink away the morning fog before sitting up straight with a groan. Slowly, youâd reach out and grab the small capsule and the water, before swallowing both in one large gulp.
Then, it was back to work as always.
Sometimes, youâd actually that phone on your desk would brnnnggg loudly, and youâd leap out of your chair to have a conversation with a fresh new voice.Â
âYou guys at least provide free Hash, right?â The masculine voice on the other end questioned.
âSir, this a hotel meant for redemption. Yâknow, to Heaven? We donât have any paraphernalia here.â You grumbled, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration as you listened to the guy.
âWait.. so youâre saying Heaven doesnât have joints?â
âIâve never been up there, obviously. Though I'm sure drugs are a big no-no up there.âÂ
âThen what the fuck is the point of wanting to go up there?! No weed? No sex toys? Fuck Heaven! Fuck you and your stupid little hotel!âÂ
âChoke on dick and die!â You snarled, slamming the phone back into place. You leaned back in the chair, fuming silently. The calls never ended well.Â
âGood job, youâre really pulling in all those potential residents.â A sarcastic voice piped up near you.
Your head snapped to the bar across the room, your gaze resting on the black and white feline who was busy cleaning glasses on the counter.Â
Standing from your spot, you stroll over to the bar, before nestling into one of the bar stools. Placing a hand under your chin, you rested your elbow against the shiny countertop.
âPour an old friend a drink, wonât you Husk?â You asked sweetly, batting your eyelashes at him.Â
His soul was owned by Alastor too, and even if you didnât know the guy too well, you felt a kinship with him. You both were hollow beings, now.
âWe ainât friends,â the demon grumbled, âI'm just stuck with you and Niffty until I kick the bucket.â
âOkay, Mr. Grumpy-Pants.â You laughed as he reached for your go-to bottle. Same old, adorably-cross Husker.Â
He was getting better, though. Happier, even. The night he disappeared to go retrieve Angel Dust, he came back with a bounce in his step. Seemingly more at peace, with whatever happened between the two away from prying eyes.
Once, you swore you heard him humming some old, happy tune while he organized the liquor bottles on the shelf. Husk.. singing? That was something you thought youâd never see.
He had a very good poker face, and half the time you couldnât tell if the kitty even liked you. He always regarded you like he was behind a closed, see-through door. Getting close to you just enough to see and speak to you, but never enough you could actually reach out and use him for support. Hopefully, he was getting better with that too.
Maybe, with how things were going, heâd let you scratch his chin one day. You always wanted to try it, see if he purred just like they did back on Earth.
âWhat do you think about the hotel?â You asked him, as he popped the cap off the bottle with his claw, and began pouring a glass in front of your seat.
âIt ainât too bad,â Husk replied truthfully, âBut, it could be better.â
âI agree, I was having a pretty good time out on my own before this. Guess weâll just have to get used to it, Iâm not sure how long Alastor plans to keep us here.â
âYou donât know?âÂ
You raised an eyebrow at the feline, as you took a sip of your drink. âNo, I donât. Why would you think I do?âÂ
âWell, I just assumed the two of you would discuss those kind things.â
âYou think I talk to Alastor about his deceitful plans with this place?âÂ
âWhy wouldnât you? I mean, you two are practically the same, with your silver-tongue and all.â
You leaned back, a mixture of surprise and disgust on your face at his words. Husk thought you and Alastor were like, what, best buddies? The demon that owned your soul?
âThatâs a fucking lie,â You growled, glaring at him, âIâm not like that douchebag at all. Just because Iâm good at talking my way out of tough shit, doesnât mean I use them to manipulate people into making magical deals that fuck up their entire existence.âÂ
Using your feet, you pushed your chair back forcefully. It scraped harshly against the wooden floor, as you stood up from the stool. You didnât even glance at Husk as you sharply turned away, and stomped across the room.
âThanks for the drink, Asshole.â You called as you turned the corner into a long hallway, towards your room.
You didnât speak to Husker for a while after that, or go to the bar. Instead, you worked and kept to yourself in your room. It wasnât until you walked into the lobby one early morning, did you see the feline.
He was standing with the rest of the crew, concern etched across their faces as they circled around a mumbling, erratic Charlie Morningstar.Â
âWhy isnât the hotel working?!â You could hear her fume, as she fussed over a large tack board filled with drawings and pictures.Â
It wasnât until about a half an hour later, when Charlie had hung up the phone with her father, did you realize the day was going to get much stranger.
âAlright, guys! My dad is going to be here in one hour, so we have to make this place perfect!â She said, a nervous smile on her lips as she addressed the small crowd.
Everyone tensed, their eyes darting to each other at her words.
Charlieâs dad was coming? Lucifer Morningstar? The King of Hell?!
Suddenly, the room bursted into action. Sir. Pentious slithered to the kitchen, claiming he needed to bake sweets for Luciferâs arrival. Charlie was practically hyperventilating as Vaggie rubbed her shoulder soothingly.Â
âAw man, I gotta go put on my new perfume!â Angel Dust yelled from the chaos, as he sped away towards his room. Husk continued wiping down the bar countertop, but a little more feverishly now.Â
Alastor was the only one seemingly unchanged by the news of the kingâs arrival. He only stood there grinning, as the others rushed around him, before beginning to push back his cuticles.
âIâm just going to go⊠put on some better clothes.â You called, unsure if anyone was even listening as they scrambled about.Â
You quickly left the lobby, running to your room to clean yourself up and look presentable. Your mind raced as you did so, recalling all the rumors and gossip youâve heard over the years.
Was he a cruel king? He couldnât be, not with how Charlie turned out. But, with her reaction to asking for his help⊠that was strange. She had never spoken of him before, so it didnât seem like they were that close.
What was he going to think of you? Youâve never stood before such an important figure, other than Charlie, but that was wayyy different than speaking to the most powerful man in the realm.
Youâd just have to make him like you, to avoid any trouble. You needed to charm the King of Hell, just like youâve done successfully with so many others.
You adjusted your appearance in the mirror, before nodding your head in self-approval. You crossed your room, pulling open the door, and making your way down the stairs.Â
When you returned to the lobby, everyone was making last minute preparations.Â
Sir. Pentious was busy tidying the cookies on the cooking sheet in front of him. Angel Dust was finishing hanging up the balloons around the room, while Charlie was hyping herself up in the corner.
A large banner with a handwritten message âItâs A Boy!â hung from the ceiling, and you shook your head in embarrassment with a smile.
When you had made it back to the group, there was barely any time to talk before you heard a knock at the front door.
Everyone froze, and Charlie exhaled a large breath of nerves, before crossing the distance towards the door. She pulled it open, and a white hat poked from over her shoulder.
âCharlie!âÂ
You heard him before you saw him, and he sounded like a burst of sunshine as you watched Charlie get pulled into his bear hug.
She sputtered against his tight grip, before he finally released her. You could see the wide brim hat poking out of her figure, see that silly apple that stuck out from the top of his cane, as they talked for a few more moments.
It wasnât until Charlie turned to face you and the rest of the crew, did you see Lucifer Morningstarâs face. Your breath hitched, eyes widening as you drank in his figure.
Fuck. He was gorgeous.Â
He definitely presented himself like a king, with how he stood with his back straight and head held high. He rested slightly against his cane, his interest piqued at the new faces.
As his gaze swept across the lobby, it briefly landed on you, and your heart fluttered in your chest. God, his eyes were so pretty. They were a soft, muted yellow, like buttercream.Â
They held many emotions too, you could see it. There was deep sadness that never left his gaze, as if it followed him like a shadow. It was something you felt followed you too. What was his story?Â
Your eyes traced the rest of his appearance, landing next on the golden strands nestled under his hat.
That platinum-blonde hair practically glowed underneath the chandelier lighting, as it curled delicately around his face. It looked so smooth and silky, like the guy had a 10-step hair care routine. It probably smelled amazing too.Â
And, those cute little rosy cheek spots on the sides of his mouth, that stood out from his pale skin. If you tilted your head just right, youâd say he looked just like a cockatiel.
But, it was his smile that enraptured you. Not the fake one, that wide, awkward mess across his lips he did as a way to appeal to Charlie.
No, it was instead that warm, genuine grin that lit up his entire face, crinkling the corners of his eyes in a way that made you feel like you were the only person in the room. The smile that only appeared during tender moments, like when his daughter rubbed her cheek against his affectionately.Â
You hoped he would start to smile like that more often.Â
Charlie had approached your group, introducing Lucifer slowly through your companions. Your heartbeat quickened as they made their way closer to you.Â
Taking a deep breath, you clasped your hands together, smiling warmingly at the duo approaching. Charlie stopped, turning to her father as she began to introduce you.
âAnd thisss is our receptionist! Theyâre in charge of handling most of our inbound and outbound affairs, and in helping us capture potential residents too!âÂ
âAnd I'm doing a fantastic job at that, by the way.â You declared to the two, that smile of yours widening as you edged closer to them. You lifted your arm, extending a hand towards the fallen angel.
âItâs a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness.âÂ
God, could this dude get any more perfect? The closer he got, the warmer you felt your body temperature become, like he was practically the sun itself.
He regarded it for a moment, before hesitantly taking your grip. His hands were soft, but firm. The gold band on his pinkie grazed across your finger, it was cool to the touch, giving you much needed relief to the growing intensity of the heat of his grasp.
His eyes traveled up yours once more, to your eyes as they flickered between your batting lashes, and to your pretty smile that only grew wider as you leaned forward.
âThe pleasure is all mine.â He spoke softly with a grin, as he looked you over. His voice was like silk, and you wanted to wrap it around yourself like a sheet.Â
A stark difference to Alastorâs, who gave you a headache listening to that static overlay every time the guy opened his mouth.
âThis is your first time here, right?â
âYes, I'm just here to give my daughter the support she needs for her little project.â Lucifer nodded, glancing over to Charlie as he spoke.
âWell, I hope your opinion of the hotel has improved now that youâve seen it in person.âÂ
âOh, believe me, it has.â He assured, that nervous grin disappearing from his face, and you could see a playful smirk slowly blooming on his lips.
That was before his eyes landed on the bar at the other end of the room, his hand left yours as he turned to face it. You pulled your arm back, clenching your hand as his warmth faded from your skin.
âWhat in the unholy Hell is that?â
You stood up straight, as he walked closer to the bar. Only for Alastor to appear right behind him, a deadly grin on his lips as he strutted forward.
âJust some renovations weâve had done, adds a little bit of color! Donât you think?â
You sighed, your lips twisting into a slight frown as you watched the tension in the room escalate with every word Lucifer and Alastor exchanged. It wasn't until Charlie sidled up beside her father, that the drama got good.
âI guess thatâs why they call it the Has-Been Hotel, eh?â Lucifer grinned, nudging Charlie with his elbow.
You snorted, your hand coming up to cusp your mouth at the sudden outburst. His dad joke was just so hilariously stupidânot to mention, it was pointed at Alastor, which was bonus pointsâyou couldnât contain the noise you made.
All eyes turned to you, and you felt sweat beading at your forehead from all the sudden attention.
Alastor still had that large toothy grin, but his eyes were squinted in a glare as his head snapped uneasily towards you.Â
It was Luciferâs gaze that captured your attention, though. He turned in surprise, as if shocked someone actually laughed at his joke. It wasnât until he saw that the person that laughed was you, did he seem to slightly puff out his chest, a prideful grin dancing on his lips.
Heat flooded your cheeks as he sent you a mischievous wink, before his attention turned back to Alastor as the demon laughed2.
âYes, Ha-Ha. It was actually my idea, though.âÂ
âHa-Ha, well, itâs not very clever!âÂ
âA-Ha! Fuck you.â
You had stood to the side, as the two demons bickered and fought for Charlieâs attention. The insecurities of both became increasingly obvious to you as time went on.
Alastor, with his uneasiness that someone of much higher stature and power could take his role in the hotel. And, Lucifer, whoâs relationship with his daughter was sour enough that the idea of someone replacing his role as a father caused him to short circuit.
Then, when a short, rotund woman bursted through the front doors, dressed like a flapper and fawning over Alastor, you realized even more how today was looking to be a really strange day.
Mimzy, an old friend of Alastorâs from when they were both swinging through the 20âs and 30âs back on Earth.Â
You didnât know her very well, other than she never stopped talking, and in your opinion, had an ego bigger than Alastorâs. But, youâve been around long enough to know that whenever she came around, it was only to beg Alastor for help when she fucked up.
Your opinion of her only worsened when the wall a few feet away from you blew open less than ten minutes later.Â
The chaos that ensued was even worse, as bullets began ripping through the walls of the hotel. Loan Sharks, snarling Mimzyâs name with venom, threw another explosive towards the building.Â
When Alastor had suddenly arrived, shifting into his demonic form, you breathed a sigh of relief as he began to decimate the little army outside.
One of them was falling right above your head, and you tried to scramble away.Â
Before it could turn you into a stain on the carpet, it suddenly jerked away, smashing into the closest wall instead. Gold sparks faded from around its wooden frame, and you turned your head to see Lucifer at the other end of the room with Charlie, his eyes trailing your form as you beelined for the opposite wall.
Another explosion rocked the lobby again, and you stumbled on your feet. A table skidded quickly across the floor, heading right for you.
The adrenaline pumping through your veins sent your body into overdrive, and you swiftly lean down, lowering your hands to meet the floor. With a powerful push, you launch yourself into a graceful somersault, your body arching elegantly over the crashing obstacle. Time seems to stretch as you execute the maneuver with precision, feeling the rush of wind against your skin as you spin through the air. Your back barely grazing the tableâs surface before you landed into a roll.Â
You shoot up from the ground, heart racing, a dumbstruck smile blooming across your lips at the realization you were still in one piece.
You were too preoccupied with Sir. Pentious barreling into your side; that you missed the pale face mirroring your expression, as he watched you clear the table.Â
By the time you untangled yourself from the snake demon, the dust had begun to settle in the room. Alastor had killedâor eatenâmost of the Loan Sharks, and was now standing on the front lawn, cleaning bits of meat from underneath his nails.
Husk lifted his head slowly from behind the bar, eyes scanning the perimeter for danger. Mimzy crawled out from under the bar stools, before scurrying outside to speak with Alastor.
âJesus, is everyone okay?â Angel Dust called, while Charlie was helping dust off stray pieces of rubble from Vaggieâs hair.
âHELPPPP!â Came the loud, mousy squeal from above your head. Eyes lifting to the ceiling, you see Niffty clutching a support beam with her life.
âNiffty? How the fuck didâya get up there?!â Angel Dust yelled back, arms thrown in the air in exasperation.
It had partially dislodged from the ceiling, hanging loosely by one end. Niffty poked her head out from the side, her large eye darting across the room, as she waited for someone to come to her aid.
Your gaze traveled down from the support beam, your eyes landing on a water pipe, broken and sticking out from a large crack in the wall. It hung just perfectly in between you and Niffty, which would allow you to reach her quickly.
If you could just get a boost⊠aha! Your gaze lands on the partially torn couch that was scooted a few feet across the room from the explosions. If you leapt off its back, you could swing from the broken water pipe and use it to catapult yourself right next to Niffty.Â
Lucifer analyzed the ceiling before turning to his daughter, smirking as he slowly lifted his cane.
âDonât worry, Iâve got thi-âÂ
âHang on, Niff! Iâm coming!â Your voice rang through the room, your footsteps echoing as you ran towards the damaged furniture.Â
Taking a large leap, your feet hit the backrest of the couch. The muscles in your legs tense as you lower yourself slightly to vault forward and up, your arms shooting above your head as you close in on the pole.
Your fingers wrap around its chilling, metal surface; and with your palms snug against its frame, you swing forward, arching your body so your feet begin to lift above your head.Â
You release the pole, your legs high in the air as you lift yourself up. You feel the wooden beam graze to the back of your knee pit, and you curl your legs around its base, hanging upside down.
Tensing all the muscles in your abdomen, you use the momentum to swing your legs around the beam and your butt hits the top of its base. You blink, your heart pounding in your chest as you exhale a sigh of relief.
Damn, that felt good. This was so much better than rotting at a desk all day, you really missed your old job.Â
Niffty shot up next to you, wrapping her little arms around your forearm in glee.
âYou came to rescue me, youâre my hero!âÂ
âYeah, yeah. Just hang on, little lady.âÂ
You pulled her close, before getting to your feet. You lean over the edge, the only thing catching your eyes that you could use was that water pipe.
Okay, youâve done a bit of parkour before. Piece of cake.Â
You knelt slightly, before leaping from the beam. You stuck on foot out in front of you, and you felt your sole hit the top of the pipe. It was like taking a large step, as you swung your other leg forward and launched yourself with the other.Â
Curling your legs, you practically cannonball into the couch. The large, plush cushions swallowed you for a moment, before spitting you back onto your feet in front of it. Â
âHoly shit, ya didnât die!â Angel Dust exhaled a sigh of relief, walking up to you. Niffty fussed in your hold, and you gently lowered her to the ground.
Niffty ran to Angel, who kneeled down to fuss over her for any injuries. You turned from the duo, before you caught sight of another figure coming forward.
âYouâre an acrobat, arenât you?â Lucifer said, a hint of astonishment in his tone as he strolled up to you, his eyes gleaming with interest.
âYes, well, mostly. But I can do a lot of other things too.â You nodded, smiling bashfully at his facial expression.
âWow! I mean, hehâboy, I havenât seen anyone do that perfect of a maneuver in a long time. You looked like a ballerina up there with how strict your form was when you were swinging.â
Did Lucifer just.. compliment you? He knew about aerobics enough to make that kind of judgment on you? Man, this guy just kept getting better and better.
It should have been obvious, though. His silly red-and-white attire had struck you as familiar when you first saw him, and now you realized it was similar to the getup of a Ringmaster.
âThank you, I've been practicing since I was young. Iâve even done a few circus acts before, and itâs always such a thrill. I'd do it over and over again without getting tired.â
âI think thatâs called being an adrenaline junkie.â Lucifer teased, a playful smile on his lips. âBut, really, that was good. Impressive, even.â
âNot as impressive as saving me from getting crushed by the ceiling.âÂ
Luciferâs eyes widened just a tad, and he nervously adjusted his long collar, his smile turning bashful now.
âOh, you.. you saw that?â
You nodded, âYes, I did. Thank you. Also, your magic is just so pretty, theyâre like little golden fireworks!â
Before Lucifer could speak, you leaned in closer to him. Your ear just barely grazing the brim of his hat as you smiled.
âAnd, I just wanted to let you know, I agree with you about the hotel name,â you inched closer to his face, your voice lowering as you spoke with a honeyed tone, âI have no doubt you would come up with a better name, Your Highness.âÂ
Lucifer tensed, and you thought you could see those red spots on his cheek darkening just a shade.Â
He lowered his head slightly after that, his face mostly obscured by the brim of his hat. You couldnât see what he was doing, but, was that an edge of a smile on his lips?
After a second, Lucifer cleared his throat, before lifting his head again.
âIâm glad we share the same appreciation for aesthetics. Itâs been a pleasure speaking with you.âÂ
âHey, Dad? Can I, um, speak to you? About the hotel?â Charlie spoke, approaching. A firm look on her face, as if it was rather important.
âOf course, Iâll be right there,â Lucifer nodded, before turning back to you, âAgain, a pleasure to meet you. I hope we get to talk again.âÂ
Then, he did something you never expected, he curtsied. Your eyes widened, the King, showing you such a gesture of respect? All for what, doing a few tricks in the air?
Heat creeped onto your cheeks after that, and you watched him turn away, following after his daughter. Leaving you to stew about your encounter with Lucifer for the rest of the day.
Well, your thoughts on the King of Hell definitely stayed when you awoke the next morning, and the morning after that.Â
Your thoughts were still there in that lobby as you sat at your desk one afternoon, your hands organizing a large stack of papers. They had a picture of the Hazbin Hotel on them, along with words that basically screamed âCome check us out!â
The plan was to distribute the posters around the city. Buildings, poles, doorways, anything that could hold a staple was your target.Â
You were fiddling around in your drawer, searching for extra staples when you heard it. A gentle rapping against the front doors, which made you lift your head.
There was no one else in the lobby, not even Husk. Slowly, you walked towards the doors, and the silhouette of a hat stuck out from the bottom of the stained glass.
Is that..?
Reaching to the handle, you pull it open, and met the familiar soft, yellow gaze. His lips curved into a smile at your appearance, and he lifted his hand in greeting.
âOh! Hello, again!âÂ
Fuck, he was still gorgeous. Definitely an Angel, no doubt about that. His pearlescent skin practically glittered in the red hues of the afternoon light behind him, and you averted your gaze for a moment, trying not to be blinded by his ethereal beauty.
âYour highness? Iâmâahem, well, sorry. Iâm just surprised to see you back so soon. What are you doing here?â
âI'm here to see Charlie, of course!â He exclaimed, strolling right past you into the lobby. His eyes scanned the room, resting for a moment disapprovingly on the bar, before landing on the large desk.Â
âIs this where you work?â He motioned towards its wooden frame, you sidled up to him, before nodding.
âYep. Hardly move from there during the day.â
âYou sit there all day? Yeesh, thatâs terrible.âÂ
âMhm. Pretty boring, actually.â
âWell, if you ever want a better career, Iâm sure I could find you a job at LuLu World, Iâve got a circus that runs year round there.â
LuLu World? The theme park he owned? You had never been there before, but it always sounded amazing. And, he thought youâd be a great fit there too. He couldnât have been that impressed by a few of your maneuvers. Maybe, he just needed to go to an actual circus and see the real performers.
âIâd love to, but I'm kind of stuck here.â
âWhy?â Lucifer turned to you, an eyebrow raised.Â
âWell, umââÂ
âMy soul is owned by the demon you have beef with, and I canât exactly leave without his permission. I also canât tell you this because I apparently signed an NDA too.â
ââI just want to help people! So, I made a promise that I wouldnât leave until I made a difference. Yâknow, really make an effort to improve this wonderful community!â You responded with fake cheer, clasping your hands together.
Lucifer regarded you for a moment, his fingers fidgeting against the apple on his cane as he thought.
âOh.. well, thatâs generous of you. But, someone with your skill set doesnât deserve to rot away in a place like this, Iâm sure youâd make a difference somewhere more relevant.â
âAre you trying to get rid of me, Your Highness?â You teased, your nails grazing against the desk as you walked past him, before pivoting to face him.
âWhat? No! Of course not, justâforget I said anything.â He chuckled nervously, before fussing with his long collar. He seemed to do that often when
Aw, he got all flustered when he thought you were serious. Who knew the embodiment of Pride had such bad self esteem.
âCharlie went out to run some errands, but she should be on her way back, actually. Can I get you anything to drink while you wait?â
âChamomile Tea, if you have it?â
You nodded, before walking towards the small counter behind your desk. There was a coffee machine, a toaster, and a large, electric kettle. You placed the kettle underneath the small sink, filling it up, before switching it on and setting it down.Â
It would take a little time for the water to heat, so you returned to where your visitor awaited.
Lucifer leaned against your desk slightly, his fingers mindlessly tapping at his cane, his eyes staring at the wall. There he goes again, lost in his thoughts. Which he seemed to do quite often.
Would it be rude to wake him from his stupor? You had only just met him, so maybe, donât push your luck.
You turned your attention back onto the stack of posters, flicking through each one as you counted. You heard Lucifer shuffle beside you, before clearing his throat.Â
âWhat are you doing?â
âPosters for the hotel. Iâm going to put them up around the city later today.â You held one out to him, and he took it from your grasp. His fingers grazed yours, and you could feel the warmth seeping into your skin from just that small touch.
When he pulled his hand away, that warmth left you, and you felt that never-ending chill seep back into your bones again. It was something that followed you since you made that deal with Alastor. As if your soul was the sun, and you just got shoved down a long, dark well.Â
You could only claw at the edges for so long, letting the blood from your nails drip into the standing water at your feet, before you gave up trying. Youâve been sitting in that well for a long time, allowing time to pass by.
But, for some reason, since you arrived at the hotel, youâve begun to start digging at the cracks of that well again. Maybe, if you got your claws in deep enough, youâd find that beam of sunlight.
âHm, the drawings seems.. a little off. Did you do this?â Lucifer dragged you out of your thoughts, as he looked at you expectantly.Â
Shaking your head, you chuckled softly. âNo, unfortunately, stick figures are my only language in the arts. I think Charlie drew it.â
âDid I say this drawing was off? I lied! Ha-ha, yeah, this is great work.â Lucifer quickly replied, brushing off his earlier comment.
You were going to open your mouth to respond, before you heard the loud whistling of the kettle. You turned, watching the steam pour out of its lid, and quickly ran to fetch it.
You pulled a small tea cup from its stand on the edge of the counter, before filling it full with the water from the kettle.
Reaching towards a small cupboard, your fingers sorted through the different herbal flavors as you looked for one in particular. When your eyes finally caught the light green packaging, you pulled it out.
âHey, this might seem like an odd question, but do you like caramel?â Lucifer asked from behind you. You turned your head slightly, taking a glance at him. His nails clicked against his cane, fast and nervous as he waited.
âYes, I do. Itâs not my favorite sweet treat, but I've definitely indulged in it a few times.â
Taking a few moments as you spoke, you ripped open the package. Holding the small string in between your thumb and your index finger, you carefully placed the tea bag into the steaming water.Â
âGreat! I was wondering, well, I meanâyou see, I made some caramel apples for Charlie. Except, she hasnât had one of mine since she was a girl, so I just wanted someone to take a test bite before I presented it to heel
Slowly, you could see the color begin to change as the herbal goodness was dispersed in the cup. You turned to him slowly, eyebrows raised as you regarded him.
âYou want me to.. try one of your apples?â
âYes! That would be great, just to know I still got the gourmet chef in me.â He smiled, lifting up a finger right above his lips, and swirling it in the air. As if twirling a long mustache.
âYour tea, Your Majesty.â You chuckled, bending your head slightly, placing it down on the desk in front of him. When you lifted your head, you were greeted with the sight of a large, light-brown coated apple.Â
âItâs not poisoned I promise.â He teased, a lopsided grin on his face as he held the treat out to you, his fingers clasped around the kabob-like stick poking out of the bottom.
Carefully, you lifted your arm, plucking the caramel apple away from his grip. When you had it between your fingers, Lucifer reached down to take the tea cup from the desk, before swirling the mix around slightly. He blew at its surface, and the liquid rippled as steam still rose from it.
He gingerly lifted it to his lips, his pinky lifting away from the handle as he did so. His eyes softened as the herbal flavoring hit his tongue, and his body seemed to relax as warmth bloomed under his skin and the drink traveled down his throat.
âHe drinks with his pinky out? Thatâs so cute.â You gushed silently, never did you think the King of Hell would practice such mannerisms. But, in all honesty, he didnât seem like he should be in Hell at all. Guess thatâs what happens, when the highest powers known to man punish you for being you.
His eyes never left you as he drank, as he waited for you to take a bite. You turned the treat in your grip, inspecting it a final time. Carefully, you lifted it to your face, and took a bite of its side.
Lucifer seemed to grimace as your mouth closed against the large chunk of apple. You chewed for a moment, letting your taste buds do the work. Then, your brain short-circuited at the sensations, and your eyes lit up.
âWoa-hu-ho! This is fantastic!â You beamed, and Luciferâs eyes widened in a look of surprise.
âReally..?â
âYes! Itâs actually really good! I think Charlie is going to love it!â You nodded briskly, taking another bite of delicacy.
âHa, well. Guess I still got it in me after all this time.â He boasted, chest puffing just slightly at your compliments.
You obliterated that apple in front of him, taking barely a moment to breathe as you scarfed it down. God, his cooking was actually really good. What else could he make?
Lucifer only watched you, a faint smile on his lips as he watched you devour the treat. As if he was fascinated by your sudden primal hunger.Â
Your eyes met his and you stopped suddenly, covering your mouth as you continued to chew. Heat flooding your cheeks in embarrassment.
âIâm sorry, Your Majesty, this is pretty rude of me..â
âNo! Not at all, if I had more I'd surely give it to you,â he laughed, setting his almost-empty drink back onto the desk, âand please, call me Lucifer. Thereâs no need to use such titles in a private setting like this.â
Right as he spoke, the front entrance doors burst open, and Charlie and Vaggie strolled in chattering loudly. They held a few shopping bags in their hands, as they entered the lobby.
Right, so much for privacy. Couldnât you get five more minutes with the #1 bachelor in the realm?
âOh, Dad!â Charlie exclaimed, surprise etched on her face at seeing Lucifer standing beside you.
âCharlie!â He beamed, strolling over to her. He encompassed her into another of his signature bear hugs, and she sputtered for breath in his hold.
âWhaâgaspâwhat are you doing here?â
âI just came by to visit, also to take another peek at some renovations that really need to be done. Among other things.â
âOh, okay! Let me drop this stuff off by Angel Dust, and we can do that.â Charlie smiled at her father, before turning and crossing the room to another hallway.
Lucifer watched her leave, before turning to you, his eyebrows raised as he spoke, âI assume youâll still be sitting here the next time I stop by?âÂ
He wanted to see you again? Your brain couldnât process that thought when the words left his lips.
âAs always.â You smiled warmly at him, as you cleaned up the now-empty cup from the desk. You didnât say âYour Majestyâ this time, but you werenât sure whether calling your king by his real name was appropriate. At least, not yet.
âGood.â He nodded approvingly, before his back faced you and he walked out of the lobby. Your gaze lingered on the corner he had turned out of view from, before you sighed and returned to work.Â
You didnât notice those sickly red eyes watching you intensely from the shaded corner of the room, as you took a seat back at your desk.Â
Days like that continued, where youâd be greeted by the soft knocking against the entrance door. And, when you opened it, youâd meet the handsome, smiling face of Lucifer.
âGood morning, I hope youâre hungry!â Heâd state as he strolled past you, always stopping right next to your desk first when he came.
You made sure to save your stomach for the delicacy he always carried with him now. Usually, heâd bring two, one for Charlie, and one for you.Â
âI need to make sure sheâll like this one too.â He had explained. You were apparently his official taste tester now, but you never complained.
Heâd hold the treat out to you, one eyebrow raised playfully, as he presented the caramel apple like a rose.
âNow with sprinkles!â Heâd exclaim as youâd gingerly take it from his grip, your fingers brushing against his. The warmth a welcome feeling to your skin.
Youâd sit there, feasting on the apple in your seat as he leaned against the desk. He was very chatty, even when he still held reservations around people in general. It never bothered you, of course. It stopped you from getting so bored while you worked.
âDonât even get me started on Mammon,â Lucifer groaned, as you told him about your most recent circus acts, âthe guy will do anything to put more money in his pocket. Yâknow, he thinks weâre best buddies or something, thinks that lets him plagiarize my amusement park.â
âWhy donât you tell him to shut it down?â
âBecause it brings in more business,â Lucifer had shrugged, âPeople go there, expecting a good show, and donât find one. So, they go to my LuLu World, and bam, they never want to leave!â
You chuckled at the name, âLuLuâ. Yep, you were definitely speaking to the Sin of Pride, alright.
âWhatâs so funny?â He had asked, curious at your reaction. You straightened yourself, a lop-sided smile on your lips when you realized he caught your laugh.
âNothing itâs just.. âLuLu Worldâ? There had to be something better you could have called it.â
Lucifer gasped, placing a hand on his heart, feigning hurt. âWoah, woah. First, you say I'm good with names, and now youâre laughing at them? Dirty.âÂ
âOh, I'm so sorry. Please, good sir, donât smite me!â You mocked a pain expression, clasping your hands together in a gesture of begging.
âI will allow you to live for now. Canât have the hotel going into shambles because youâre not here to keep it running.â Luciferâs voice deepened as he fixed his posture into a much more royal stance. As if he was speaking to a lowly squire in court.
âI barely do anything around here, but thanks for the confidence boost.â youâd answer silently, as you leaned back in your chair, watching his antics with amusement.
You began to anticipate his arrival with excitement. Even pouring his tea beforehand, so when he walked through those doors, youâd place a steaming cup into his palms. You always enjoyed the way his eyes softened when he took his first sip.
Hell, you enjoyed.. everything about him. His smile, his jokes, the care he had for his daughter, even if he had a hard time showing it. He made you smile, which was something you havenât done willingly in a long time.Â
And, his smile? That real, true look of happiness that blossomed on his face? That slowly began to return as well.Â
For a few months, everything was dandy. Until, one evening, when Alastor summoned you to his room.
He never did that, and that made you nervous.
You stood at the closed door to his room, your heart pounding in your chest. What did he want? Did you do something wrong? Your thoughts just couldnât still as you fidgeted nervously.
Slowly, you lifted your knuckles to the door. Before you could even graze the wooden surface, the door swung open. It creaked loudly as it did so, and your breath hitched as you began to glimpse inside.
You poked your head in, your eyes scanning across the room. The decorations were so outdated, it almost made you gag. Skeletons of an alligator hung on the wall, its eyes glowing from the string of lights wrapped around its figure.
A large shelf of books, mostly for cooking, stood out against a small wooden table. A small radio sat snug on the desk, playing a gentle jazz tune. On the opposite side of the room, was where that freaky abyss lay. You had never stepped foot there, the part of the room that simply seemed to dissolve into a dark, swampy land.Â
Then, you heard humming. Staticy, soft humming, coming from the left side of the room.
Alastor stood over a bloody cutting board, a large kitchen knife in his hand. He wore an apron that was spattered with blood, his usual overcoat was gone, replaced by a dark red tuxedo underneath and aâsurprisinglyâclean white dress shirt.
He hummed along in sync with the music wafting from the speaker, as he continued to slice along the large slab of meat on the counter. You couldnât dare think what the flesh used to be as you slipped through the crack, shutting the door softly behind you.
It didnât seem like he knew you were standing there awkwardly by the door, but you knew he did. How long was he going to have you wait?
Clearing your throat, you spoke softly, âyou wanted to see me, Alastor?â
âAh, hello there, my friend!â He pivoted sharply, his tone chipper as he smiled at you. The knife was still in his grip, and he swirled it in the air playfully. âHow are you doing on this fine, hellish evening?â
âFine..â
âWonderful! I called you here today because there is something Iâve wanted to discuss with you for some time. You see, I've taken notice that you and our ever-so charming King of Hell have been growing closer these past few months.â
This is what he wanted to talk about? You fought to not roll your eyes at that.Â
âLet me guess, you want me to stop talking to him?â
Alastor giggled at that, a maniacal fit of he-heâs as he forcefully stabbed the knife into the slab of flesh. It stuck out like a grim warning, as he brushed his hands against his apron before removing it entirely.Â
âOn the contrary,â he spoke as he hung the apron against a dining chair, âI want you to get closer to him.â
You blinked, leaning your head back slightly as you processed his words.
âWait, what?â
Alastor nodded, confirming that you didnât just hallucinate that. He slowly walked forward, before placing a hand on your shoulder as he moved behind you.
âYou see, I believe itâs in both our best interests to forge a deeper connection with our illustrious King. There are certain⊠opportunities that may arise from such a relationship.â
âOpportunities? What kind of opportunities are we talking about here?â
âAh, now that would be telling, wouldnât it? Letâs just say that there are benefits to being in the Kingâs inner circle. Power, influence, the chance to shape Hell itself⊠But Iâve said too much already. Just trust me on this one, my dear.â
Trust Alastor? Ha! That was the first joke heâs ever spoken to you that was actually funny.Â
Your thoughts raced as he appeared on your other side, his claw grazing across the back of your neck as he rested his hand on your shoulder once more.Â
He wanted you to what, fake your attraction to Lucifer? Wanted you to lie and manipulate him so heâd bend to your will, and carry out Alastorâs evil deeds in the guise of caring for you?
âWhat makes you think heâd even fall for that? Heâs an angel, heâs not stupid.â
Alastor chuckled, patting your shoulder as his grin widened. âHavenât you noticed the change in his demeanor? The little.. pep in his step? Ever since he met you that first day, heâs only grown more attached to you.â
Was that true? Sure, Lucifer seemed to be getting better, slowly. Seemed to smile more genuine as time went on. But, that couldnât be because of you! He was reconnecting with his daughter, of course heâd be happier at the hotel.
It didn't matter, in the end. You werenât going to do that to Lucifer. You werenât going to ruin the one relationship that was built by trust. The question is, could you resist Alastor?
âWhat if I donât want to?â You finally ground out, your firsts clenching at your sides.
Suddenly, you felt a chill around your neck, and you gasped at the sensation. You lifted one hand up, to try and feel whatever was clenching at your throat.
Your fingers wrapped around a green, metal collar that seemed to tighten as the seconds ticked by. Energy sizzled against your fingertips, like static. Eyes widening, you ripped your hand away, your feet moving on instinct to get away from him.
Your back hit the wall roughly, your heart practically beating out of your chest as you watched Alastor slowly stalk towards you. His eyes began to shift, resembling that of radio dials. Those small antlers on his head began to rapidly branch out, growing longer every step he took.
âWhat if you donât want to? My, what a foolish question.â
He was just inches from your face, that toothy smile practically ear to ear as he leaned in. Lifting a hand, his claws grazed your collar bone, before traveling up towards the glowing green clasp.
A single claw hooked underneath the metal surface, pushing roughly against your throat as he tugged you harshly forward by it.Â
His breath hit your face, and you scrunch your nose from the foul odor. He reeked of death.
âIt seems you have forgotten who owns your soul, my dear.â He whispered in your ear. You squeezed your eyes shut, your lip quivering as he spoke.
âIf you try to resist, try to fight against your chains. Iâll make sure my radio broadcast is filled with nothing but your dying screams.â
Tears pricked at your eyes, the collar only becoming colder as you writhed slightly against his touch.
âI-Iâm sorr-â
âYou sold your soul to me, donât forget. If there is anyone to blame for your misfortune, it is you alone.â Alastor hissed, thrusting you even closer to him by your collar. You felt his smile crease brush against your skin, and you shivered.
You were becoming increasingly aware how sickly-yellow his teeth were, compared to Luciferâs. Disgust began to boil in your belly as you opened your mouth.
âIâll do it!â You whimpered, your heart pounding, âIâll do it..â
âWonderful.â He drawled, before leaning away from you. His claw released your collar, and it dissolved in green fog. You coughed, rubbing your neck, as Alastor took your shoulder and roughly nudged you to the door.Â
It opened on its own, and you were pushed through the threshold.Â
âIâm glad we could have this little chat,â Alastorâs chipper tone returned, as you stared at him with disgust, âHave a hellish rest of your day, my friend!â
The door slammed shut as he disappeared back into his room. Leaving a rush of angry tears to pool at your feet alone.
Two weeks had passed, since Alastor told you to tug the heartstrings of the King of Hell, to play him right into your fraud-loving palms. Oh, the universe must surely hate you.
You had begun to avoid Lucifer, though. Whenever he was around, catching you at work, youâd continue your silly little chats. You began to memorize the timeframe heâd show up to the hotel, and make some kind of excuse to not be there when he knocked. Either you were out shopping for supplies, or seeing the latest movie. Anything you could think of, youâd leave and force Husker to greet Lucifer.
The guilt of knowing what would happen if Lucifer fell in love with you? It ate you up inside. You hardly slept lately, tossing and turning with terrible nightmares of drowning in that cold, dark, bottomless well. The chains tied to your feet, preventing your escape to the surface.
Would anyone care if you just let yourself sink to the bottom?Â
Those thoughts were still on your mind as you did your morning jumping jacks.
You had asked Charlie to use one of her empty storage rooms as a place to practice your acrobatics, which you had started doing every night now. It was any easy escape from your troubles, on the farthest side of the hotel from the lobby, where no one could bother you.
It was a large room, with ceiling-high windows that lit the room with a light red hue. You had convinced Alastor to give you a makeshift gym as a part of your âdealâ. If you were going to be forced to be the bad guy, he could at least give you a place to kick ass.
There were multiple gymnastic bars set up at different heights, two balance beams, and a small-scale tightrope. The tightrope was a thick wire connected between two poles across one side of the room, roughly the size of your torso. There was a platform attached to each pole, allowing good foot room on each side of the wire.
Tonight, you were practicing walking on your hands across the balance beam. Sweat dripped from your forehead, and you watched it land onto the leathery cover of the beam beneath you.Â
You had made it halfway across, when you heard the door to the room open softly.Â
âI didnât even know there were rooms back here!â An astonished, familiar voice came from the doorway.Â
What was Lucifer doing here?!
Your brain short-circuited, and your arms began to wobble beneath you. You lost your balance, and immediately tumbled off the balance beam with a breathless âFuck!â
Your side hit the mats below, pain bloomed from your shoulder as you lay there in defeat. You heard a high pitched yelp from behind you, and the sounds of feet pattering against the floor neared.
âYouâre not dead, are you?â Lucifer laughed nervously as he kneeled beside you. He reached a hand down to your face, before he hesitated, and instead lifted his cane.
You felt soft poking against your cheek, as he prodded you with the black stick.Â
âStop that.â You grumbled into the mat, stirring slightly from the floor.
âOh, youâre not dead! What a relief.â He said, exhaling a breath he had been holding. âIâm terribly sorry about that! I didnât mean to scare you.â
You groaned, before lifting yourself up from the mat. You got to your feet, rubbing your shoulder tenderly.
âItâs fine, Iâm fine. What are you doing here, though?âÂ
Lucifer processed your question for a moment, before he suddenly straightened himself up. Head held high, he strutted over to you, before halting. He glanced at you, before he began fussing with his bow-tie nonchalantly.
âWell, I came to find you.âÂ
âWhy?âÂ
âBecause, I wanted to speak with you. And, youâre conveniently always out of the room when I want to do that.â
Shit. Did he notice you were avoiding him? You didnât think it was that obvious.
Lucifer watched you intensely, analyzing your reaction to his accusatory statement. He had a firm line on his lips, as if your actions didnât bother him.Â
âIâm not avoiding you.âÂ
âOh, really?â
âI came here to improve my aerobatics, before you rudely interrupted me.â
âRight, like you need to improve.â
You turned to him, an eyebrow raised. âWhat is that supposed to mean?â
âYouâre already good at it, thereâs no reason for you to come here every day.â
He turned his head to face you as he spoke, and your eyes caught sight of something wiggling slightly on the top of his head. Is that apple decoration not fully attached to his hat?
Suddenly, you had an idea. A playful smile began to bloom on your lips, as you slowly made your way towards him.Â
âActually, thatâs not true. Iâm not that good at tightrope walking, Iâve told you that before.â
Right before he turned his head so he could trace your movements, you shot your arm above his hat, your fingers pinching around the small apple stem.
You sharply pivoted, facing him now as you walked backwards towards the tightrope platform. The apple hung behind your back, as you kept his gaze.Â
âBuuut, I think Iâm much better at it than you.â
âExcuse me?â
You turned to face the platform, moving your arm fluidly and taking the stem between your teeth, before lifting yourself on the white surface.Â
Gripping the apple once more, you turn to him slowly, watching his eyes widen as you swing the apple between your fingers for his viewing pleasure.
âActually, I think I'm better at this whole circus bizz than you. Look! Iâm a magician even, would you like to see another trick, Your Majesty?âÂ
Lucifer stood there in shock, for a few moments. His red pupils darted from the swiped apple to you, before they dilated slightly. Then, he laughed, an audible âHa ha!â at your words.Â
âYou think youâre better at the circus than me?â Lucifer asked slowly, a mixture of disbelief and teasing in his tone.
âWithout a doubt!â You called, turning to face the wire. Not giving him a second glance, a smug smile formed on your lips.
Lucifer regarded you a moment, before a mischievous grin played on his face. âWell, letâs prove it then.âÂ
He lifted his cane, before tapping it against the ground twice. Suddenly, you found the platform vibrating underneath your feet. Then, it began to move. You stumbled, and then fell to your knees, gripping the edges as you squeezed your eyes shut.
What the hell was happening?!
The support pole began to rise up, and up, and up, until it barely grazed against the ceiling. Slowly, you opened one eyelid, and then the other. You were still safe, clutching to the platform. The tightrope was still holding, connected to the pole across the room.Â
You exhaled a side of relief, before crawling over to the edge. Your eyebrows flew up in surprise as you judged the distance to the ground, you were roughly three stories in the air!
Did.. Lucifer do that? He took âprove itâ to a whole new level with this one.Â
You got back onto your feet, the apple still in your palm as you placed your other hand against the support beam. Now, where was Lucifer? Did he stick you up here to starve to death?
âHey.â
You jumped, reeling back from the voice, right towards the edge of the platform.
âWoahâhang on there now!â Lucifer quickly reached out and wrapped his fingers around your wrists, tugging you back to the center of the stand. You blinked, slowing your heart beat, as you stared in surprise.
âLucifer? How did you get up here?â
âI can fly, remember?âÂ
Thatâs right, he did have wings. You just didnât think he was that fast with them. Lucifer had also completely ditched his hat and overcoat, instead he was in his red and white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to partially expose his forearms.Â
His hair was slightly disheveled, no doubt from the flight up here. It wasnât as slicked back as before, small strands of hair sticking out messily. You thought that was adorable.
Lucifer looked down, before smiling sheepishly and withdrawing his hand from your wrist. He brushed his fingers down your hand, his nails gently grazing against your palms.
This time, you didnât feel the cool sensation from his gold ring against your skin, as his pinky lifted from your hand.
âNow, are you going to walk across that wire, or are you going to just give me back my apple?â
You met his eyes, his gaze playful as he smirked at you. He took a step closer, and you took a step back. Slowly, your heel hit the wire, and you halted.Â
Lucifer watched you expectantly, waiting for you to make a move. He probably assumed youâd turn around to cross the wire, and heâd nab the apple from behind your back.
Too bad for the King of Hell, you could walk on a tightrope backwards. You winked at him, as your feet moved fully onto the wire. You pivoted slightly every so often, your body fluidly leaning back and forth as you adjusted for balance.
Lucifer watched you, admiration in his eyes as you maneuvered your way down the tightrope. You pulled the apple from behind you, teasing it in front of his view.
âThe big question is, how do you think youâre going to best me in those heels, Your Majesty?âÂ
Lucifer glanced down at his knee-high boots, before slowly peeling them off his feet. He placed them neatly to the side, before moving a foot to the wire.
He began to put his weight onto the tightrope, wobbling a little as he adjusted for balance. He definitely did not do this often, and you laughed softly at his failing posture.
Lucifer huffed, glancing at you, who was still moving a reasonable distance away from him. Then, a smirk played on his lips, and you saw forms begin to appear against his back.Â
The red feathers of his wingâs underbelly began to glimmer in the light from the large windows behind you, as he slowly opened them to full length.
Six ethereal, majestic wings flapped gracefully behind him. They began to pivot slightly, adjusting for Luciferâs balance much quicker and with ease.
âThat is so dirty!â You laughed at him, shaking your head disapprovingly.
âLooks like I'm going to getcha!â He teased, as he began to take much more confident steps across the wire; his wings flapping softly, boosting his speed.
You took bigger, riskier steps as you closed in on the other platform. Your heartbeat racing from the challenge, adrenaline beginning to pump in your veins.
âWhat happens if I eat this apple?â You asked, holding up the apple to your nose, before taking a deep sniff. Licking your lips playfully, you glanced back up to Lucifer.
âA tummy ache, I'm afraid. But, hey, I'll trade you a caramel apple for that one.â
Your stomach grumbled at that, and you genuinely licked your lips at his words.
âI might consider that proposition, if you can catch up to me that is.â
You spun on your heel, facing the base of the pole, as you began to increase your pace.
It wasnât until you felt the wire jerk under your feet, did you begin to wobble. With a hitched breath, you try to regain your balance, but to no avail.
Your foot slips, and you feel your body beginning to lean off too far to the side. Gasping in surprise, you flail your arms hoping to catch anything in your grip to stop your fall.
Right as you begin to free fall, you feel strong arms snake around yours and grip you firmly.Â
âHang on, I got you!â Lucifer practically spoke in your ear as he pulled you forward, back up onto the wire. You breathe heavily, clutching his forearms tightly as you lean in closer, catching your breath.
Large wings flapping stronger now, Lucifer held you close as you both balanced along the same small portion of the tightrope. You felt his hot breath on your face, and realized how close the two of you actually were.
Your chest was practically against his cute little bow-tie, your legs brushing against each other as you balanced on the tiny surface. The steady wing beats of the fallen angel sent wind softly grazing past your ears, cooling the heat that was beginning to creep onto your cheeks.
He was so close, and so fucking gorgeous. Forget what Alastor wanted to do, what you wanted to do was kiss this man silly. For months, you both danced at the edge of each other's hearts. Gifts of affection, words of compassion, the whole shebang.Â
Yet, youâve never looked the King in the eye and told him âI want you.â
Was it because you were stubbornly fighting against Alastorâs demands, that you even ignored your own true feelings? Just to spite the powerful cannibal?
Couldnât you just look at a sexy man in peace, without anyone else watching your every move?
âAre you alright?â Lucifer asked after a moment, pulling you from your ogling.
âYou saved me..â You finally breathed, eyes wide and you met his soft gaze.
âOf course I did, why wouldnât Iââ
Luciferâs words caught in his mouth as you pressed your lips to his. He froze at the touch initially, but it only took a moment for his entire body to soften against yours.Â
His hands found his way to your waist, and he pulled you flush against his body. Your fingers reached up, and you began to caress the sides of his face, twirling a few pieces of hair between your pinkies as you deepened the kiss.
The warmth that bloomed from his touch was intoxicating, your entire being craving for more as you leaned even farther into his embrace.Â
His hands moved from your waist, until they brushed underneath your shirt. His palms coming up to cup the small of your back as he pressed you closer to him, as if worried you might dissipate into the air and leave him forever.
It was a good thing he had six wings to keep the two of you afloat, or else you would have been a splatter on the mats by now.
You felt Lucifer's teeth graze against your lip, and you had to fight to not bite his lip back. After a few more moments, you pulled away from his face, your breath coming out ragged as you gave him some distance.Â
Lucifer blinked a few times, his eyebrows beginning to raise slowly as a dopey smile danced onto his lips.
âI really enjoyed that, but we should probably get on solid ground, don't you think?â He laughed breathlessly, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he looked at you adoringly.
You reached up, brushing the few loose strands out of his eyes, before nodding. âThat is a good idea.âÂ
âWell, just hang on.â Lucifer replied with a mischievous grin, and you opened your mouth to question him. Before you could get a word out, you felt him begin to lean backwards, pulling you along with him.Â
You yelped and squeezed your eyes shut, as you began to free fall on top of him. Lucifer only hugged you closer, before his wings shot open, slowing your descent.Â
Carefully, you peeled your eyelids open to the two of you gliding softly down, as Lucifer circled the pole lazily. Your feet swung in the air, and the wind rushed past your ears. The adrenaline rush causing you to laugh in glee as you felt your feet hit a hard surface.
You both stood there in silence for a few moments, the weight of what just transpired finally settling on top of you.Â
Holy shit, you just kissed the King of Hell! From trying to stay as far away from him, to getting as close as physically possible. What a twist.
âWell, now that weâre down here,â Lucifer began slowly, his gaze meeting yours with a playful roll of his eyebrows, âwe could continue our previous.. discussion.âÂ
You almost obliged, until you heard the familiar call of Charlie, as she searched for her father. You tensed in his grip, before pulling away from his hold. A pout formed on Luciferâs lips at the absence of your touch, before he straightened himself.Â
Snapping his fingers, that familiar white overcoat magically materialized onto his figure, along with his wide brim hat. Your eyes landed onto that spot where the missing apple usually was, and then you noticed how empty both your hands were.
âYour apple! I think I dropped it when I almost fell.â You explain apologetically.
âOh, you mean this apple?â
Lucifer pulled the red, gleaming trophy from beneath his overcoat. He threw it in the air a few times, catching it gracefully. A silent boast as he grinned at you. Your mouth only hung agape, as you scanned the apple for any imperfections.
âThere is no way you took that from me! How do I know you didnât just make that?â
âWoah! Sounds like someone is a sore loser.â Lucifer laughed, before turning towards the door, he kept his gaze on yours as he did so, walking backwards as he talked.
Slowly, you kept pace with him, shaking your head in disbelief at his words. He was just as preoccupied as you, sucking on your face, you couldnât believe he actually took it from you in the chaos.
âAt least we settled the little debate, hm? Seems like iâm better at these kinds of things than you. Just like I said.â
âWeâll definitely come back and test that theory with your wings bound this time.â
âOh, will we? Is that a challenge?â
Lucifer halted at the doorway, and you stopped a few footsteps away. You batted your eyelashes at him, grinning playfully, âitâs a promise, actually.âÂ
He grinned at that, before he leaned in closer, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.
âSo, you havenât been avoiding me, then?âÂ
âNot this again.â You groaned internally.
âNo, I havenât. Iâm sorry, Iâve just got a lot on my mind lately.â You quickly spoke, an apologetic look on your face. Would he buy your lie?
âAnd youâll tell me when something is wrong, right?âÂ
You cracked him an assuring smile, âof course!â You lied through pearly-white teeth.Â
Lucifer nodded approvingly at that, before he glanced out of the room. You both could hear Charlie a hallway or two away, and she seemed frantic to find her father. Lucifer only sighed, before turning to you.
âLooks like Iâll be seeing you real soon, Darling.â He promised, bowing his head slightly to you. You wanted to scold him for that, about lowering his head to someone of lower class, if he did that in public no doubt the citizens of Hell would mock him for it.
But, you werenât in public. You were alone, with someone you cherished, able to whisper all your secrets, hopes, and dreams to someone you trusted most. If only you could tell him the truth, and not be stuck here drowning in your own lies.
Lucifer gave you one final glance, before he turned away, strolling through the hall away from your room. A happy whistle came from his lips, and you could hear it slowly fading as he moved away.
Backing up, you plopped down on a bench on the side of the room. The recent events hit you like a freight train, and you realized how terribly stupid you were.
How were you supposed to protect Lucifer from whatever plan Alastor had in store for him, if you were going to keep disregarding your brain for your weak little heart?Â
Yes, Lucifer was the most powerful being in Hell, far more powerful than that red demon. But, he was also a sad, lonely angel. Who craved affection and attention, which he seemed to want solely from you and Charlie.Â
If your life were in danger, would he be stupid and risk his own for you? He wouldnât, he couldnât. Your filthy, sinning soulless self wasnât worth the trouble.
You just wish Lucifer would see that.Â
For an hour, you paced the perimeter of the room. Your thoughts clear as you evaluated all the metaphorical cards in your hand. If Husk taught you anything about gambling, it was always to call your opponents bluff before he had a chance to do it to you.
Your feet halted suddenly, your heart beating rapidly in your chest as you stared through the large windows. Your thoughts settling as you watched the waning light.
You werenât some pushover, some scared little child in need of protection. You werenât going to let some murderous psychopath take any more control of your life. You were going to call the shots this time, even if that meant being dragged by the throat into that well.
As long as everyone you cared about, even Husker, made it out.
There was only one plan of action you saw ahead. And, it was not going to be the easy route.
âIâm done.âÂ
Alastor halted, the wall sconces in the hallway illuminating his sharp grin as he heard the words leave your lips. It had been four days since you decided you were going to stand against him.
âPardon?â The words left his lips slowly, his head cracking in-humanely to one side, his ears twisting to face you.Â
âI said Iâm done deceiving for you. Iâm not going to lie to Lucifer, or anyone else, for any longer.â
Alastor didnât say anything, his back still turned to you. His claws tapped against his microphone, rhythmic and loud as he processed your words.
âIs that so?âÂ
âYes, and I donât care what you have to say about it. Thereâs more to the world than power, Alastor.â
You felt something cold tugging against your neck, that familiar, sickening sensation returning to your body. You sucked in a large breath, calming your rapid heartbeat.Â
Green illuminated your face as you felt something heavy begin to weigh on your body. Alastor held one of his hands out, before flicking his wrist with a painful pop sound.Â
The chain snapped forward from the collar around your throat, snaking around your figure as it wove to Alastorâs palm, its green glow casting eerie shadows against the walls. You struggled against its hold, feeling the cold, metallic links digging into your skin. Alastor's laughter echoed through the hallway, a chilling sound that sent shivers down your spine.
"You dare defy me?" Alastor's voice was low, dangerous. "You forget your place, little puppet."
Panic surged through you as you fought against the chain, but it only tightened its hold, squeezing the air from your lungs. You gasped for breath, your vision blurring as darkness threatened to consume you.
"Perhaps a reminder is in order," Alastor said, his tone dripping with malice. "A lesson in obedience."
âDonât you have any more tricks in the book than this fucking chain?â You growled between gasps, the back of your head sliding against the floor as you twisted against its metal grasp. âCâmon Al, this is just embarrassing.â
Immediately, his face contorted into a look into a large, crooked smile. His eyes shifted to resemble radio dials, as he harshly yanked you towards him. Your cheek slid across the carpet, and you felt the sting of rug burn bloom across your face.
âDonât let him see you scared, donât let him win.â You begged yourself internally, as you held your tears back.Â
Alastorâs face began to change, his features sharpening drastically, that crooked smile growing all the more larger. His antlers branched farther from his head, gnarling together in twisting designs above his ears.Â
Even his hair began to stand on end, as he stalked closer to you. Shadows enveloped the hall, like a fog rolling in. Obscuring the sight of your eventual corpse, as Alastor wrapped the chain around his arm, keeping it taut as he closed in.
âThe only embarrassment,â He started, his voice flickering into pure static at his rage, âwill be how fast it takes for your sÌŽÍÌÌÌĂ§Ì”ÌŻÌźÍÍÌżrÌ·ÌŒÌ„ÌżÌÌÌeÌžÍÌŁÌŻÍÌœÌaÌ·ÍÌŒÍÍ
mÌ”ÌźÍÍÍsÌŽÌ»ÍÌœÌ to die on your tÌžÌÍÌÍÍĂ¶Ì·Ì»ÍÌ©ÌÍn̞̚ÌÌÍÌg̱̔ÌÍÌÌÍÌÍ
Ă»Ì¶ÌÌŒÌČÍĂ©ÌŽÌș, when I rip your hÌ·ÌÌŁÍÌ
ÌÌÌÍĂ«Ì”ÌșÍÌÌa̶ÍÍÌ€ÍÍř̶ÌÌÍtÌŽÍÌŻÌ out of your throat.â
Archaic symbols danced your vision as Alastorâs entire body seemed to contort into jagged edges, his arms and legs doubling in length, as his hunched back hit the ceiling of the hallway. His crooked neck lowered, his head itching closer. One claw coming out to hook underneath you collar, pulling you up by the neck.Â
âWhat will our dear King do then, when he finds your mangled body on his front door?âÂ
You snarled, trying to tear away from his grip. How dare he still try and bring Lucifer into this, even when the fallen angel could pulverize him in an instant. Couldnât he face you one to one?Â
The Radio Demonâs eyes flickered a darker red, and you feel the collar begin to tighten around your throat, squeezing the breath from your airways. You gasped, tears pricking at your eyes as you clawed at your neck in a poor attempt to stop the sensation.
âAlastor? Is everything alright over there?âÂ
Suddenly, the squeezing at your throat dispersed like fog, as the collar and chain vanished into thin air. You were left on the floor, sputtering for breath, as Alastor quickly pivoted towards the voice. His body instantly shifted back to normal, with quiet pops and clicks as his joints squeezed back into place.
It was Vaggie, coming down the hall, her eye staring suspiciously at his shaded form.Â
Clutching your bruising throat, you stumble onto your feet. Your back hits the wall, and you use it for support to catch your breath.
Alastor straightened his suit, his expression morphing into its usual grin as if nothing had happened. âOh, everythingâs just dandy, Vaggie. Just having a delightful little chat with our friend here.â He gestured casually toward you, his tone dripping with false cheerfulness. âIsnât that right?â He raised an eyebrow, his eyes glinting with an unknown expression.
âYeahâcoughâsorry, just choked on the water I was drinking.â
âRight. Listen, Alastor, I wanted to talk to you in private. If thatâs okay with you.â Vaggie said, gesturing down the hall.
âOf course, itâs always a pleasure speaking with you, my dear!â You didnât miss the way Alastorâs eye twitched, as if he was not thrilled about having to leave. But, he was deceiving everyone else, too. Which meant he had to play his little part to a T.
âIâm just.. going to go. Iâm not feeling so well.â You muttered to the pair, before darting around the corner, out of sight.Â
You ran to your room, slamming your door behind you. Your back hit its frame, before slowly sliding down until your bottom hit the carpet. Tears of anger flowed down your cheeks, as you continued to rub your neck.
Fuck. Why were you so powerless?! If only you had even a sliver of magic in you, you could have defied him better. Now, what was Alastor going to do?Â
âWhat did you expect?â A part of your mind hissed scoldingly, âYou just tried to fight the demon that owns your soul, and got your ass handed to you.â
You growled, rising to your feet. Frustration, sadness, pain, everything seeped out of you, and you felt like killing someone in that moment.
âItâs betterââ
You picked up a spare shoe from the ground, your nails digging into it as you bared your teeth. Swinging it behind you, you vaulted it towards the opposite wall.
ââthan doing nothing at all!âÂ
You heard glass shattering, and watched shards spill from the mirror above your dresser. You could see your face, partially obscured in its remaining reflection. You could see the slight purple marks around your neck, see the tears spilling from your cheeks.. see that dark look on your features, like you actually would kill somebody.
Reeling back, you placed your knuckles to your lips. Maybe, to stop that lip from quivering so violently. That face in the mirror reminded you of everything you hated about this wretched place.
And, now, you were becoming just like him. You stepped backwards, trying to distance yourself from the reflection, before the back of your legs hit the side of your bed, and you sank into the mattress. You wrapped your arms around your knees, curling into a ball as you sobbed the frustration out of you.
You could still feel the dark magic sizzling against your neck, as if it refused to release you of its hold just yet.
It wasnât until you heard soft rapping of knuckles against glass did you lift your head. Turning towards the balcony doors, your eyes widen at the sight of the familiar figure standing outside. His silhouette illuminated by the dark red hues of the evening light, as he waved through the frosted glass.
âI see you over there! Can you let me in for a moment?âÂ
What was Lucifer doing here?! This was terrible timing for him to make an appearance! But, he knows you're there, can see your silhouette through the glass as you sit there on the bed. You sighed, quickly cleaning your face of tears, and taking a few deep breaths.
âCome in.â You called hoarsely, cracking the best smile you could muster.
The glass doors slowly pushed out of them, and Lucifer quietly shimmied through the cracks. He pivoted to face you, a large smile on his lips as he squinted at you through the darkness of your room.
âIâm so glad youâre here, I was just about to leave and then I remembered I never gave you your caramel apple!âÂ
Lucifer began to stroll forward, your face becoming less obscured in the shadows as he closed in. You tried to shrink away slightly, turning your knees away from him so he couldnât see them quivering slightly.
âI put a layer of chocolate on it too, and soâwait, why are you crying?â His gaze intensified, as your face finally illuminated in the light.
âI-itâs nothing! I just had something in my eye!â You lied, cracking a wider smile.
âWhat are those marks on your neck?â Lucifer ignored your excuse, as he stalked closer to you. His eyes constantly scanning your figure looking for any more oddities.Â
âPlease, Lucifer.. Iâm just tired and-â
âWhat is this?â
Lucifer had asked, his pupils dilated, trained on something against your throat. Something more than the small purple marks.
You began to rub your thumbs together in a soothing motion as you watched him move closer to you. Gulping, you parted your lips to speak.
You didnât get a chance to say anything, before his hand gingerly lifted towards you. His nail grazed against your collarbone, and heat blossomed underneath your skin from his touch.Â
âPlease, just stop here,â you silently begged, eyes squeezing shut as his finger rested against your figure, âdonât ruin this moment by digging any farther.â
Your reaction only spurred him, however. Luciferâs eyes narrowed, his pupils thin slits now as he watched you.
Slowly, his finger trailed upward, skin brushing softly against yours as he traced the invisible force only a powerful demon could see. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest, every movement of his only quickening its pace.Â
Until his hand stopped, right in the middle of your neck, and you felt a sizzling against your skin. The heat was becoming too much, and you wanted to pull away from his touch. You didnât, instead, you tensed, deathly still before him.
A soft golden light illuminated from Luciferâs palm, as his fingers wrapped around an invisible object. A shadow formed in his grip, and he tugged at it, that glow in his palm growing stronger.
Backing away, he yanked a long, thin chain from your figure, as if trying to free you of a parasite that found a home deep in your bones. As he stepped backwards, it only dragged across the floor, still connected to your neck as it lengthened.
A thick, metal collar snuggly encompassed your throat. The chain locked tightly against it, a vivid reminder of your poor decisions.
Luciferâs palm slid across the cold, metal links. Eldritch magic seeped from its form in the shroud of thick fog. Archaic symbols danced at the edge of your vision as its glow illuminated Luciferâs unreadable expression.
The chain was a sickly green, its harsh glow an annoyance to his eyes. It was embedded with a dark, chilling magic. Whispers of untold horrors and ancient curses coiling around you, promises of a fate worse than death.Â
Lucifer could practically smell it, that red demon's aura as it encircled around your frame. A twisted signature, practically scrawled across your forehead like a stamp of ownership.
Oh, the audacity of a person to take such a kind soul and rip it away from its owner.Â
You werenât some dog to be beckoned at the flick of a wrist. You were so much more than that, you deserved so much more than that.Â
Yet here you were, the clasp around your neck like a shadowed hand, softly squeezing the life out of your eyes. He could see it, clear as day.
Small, white horns protruded from his head as he clenched the chain tighter. He tugged it once, twice, as if testing its durability. You leaned back slightly, the chain becoming taught between the two of you.
That collar around your throat kept you locked in place, as you watched him turn the chain in his hands. For a moment, Luciferâs figure melded into the horrid shadow of your owner, and your eyes widened in fear at your delusion.
You could see it, feel it. Your stomach brushing the stained carpet beneath you with that haunting figure bent in a sickly, twisted angle in front you. That chain wrapped around the radio demonâs hand as he threatened you with terrible acts if you failed to stay in line.
Seeing your face contort into pained anguish only caused him to bare his teeth slightly, the sharp edges glinting in the light.
Seeing it so deeply entwined with your very being only further spurred the kingâs anger. It seeped quietly from him, his grip tight against the chains as if trying to snap them with his bare hands.
âWho did this?â He hissed, his gaze boring into yours. He wanted to hear you say that demonâs name, wanted to hear you confirm the truth that was so obvious in front of him.Â
You knew he wasnât angry at you, but still you bowed your head slightly. Averting your gaze from his pleading eyes, shame slowly clawing at your stomach. For a moment, you felt like throwing up. Wanting to rid yourself of the terrible feeling that was seeping into your skin.
You felt like crying, or throwing yourself into his arms. Wanting to melt into his hold, and be told again and again that everything would be alright. That the most powerful man in hell would come to your rescue.
But, deals that bartered in souls are a much more difficult magic to conquer.
Fighting the urge to collapse into his embrace, you steeled yourself. Hands planted against your knees, back straight in a pathetic attempt to have some kind of power in this moment.Â
Your eyes sullenly traced across the harsh links of the chain, its form all too familiar by now. Yet, it still caused such grief in your bones no matter how many times you looked upon it over the years.
Slowly, your eyes shifted to meet his gaze. Your lips curved into a frown at his expression, and your predicament.
How were you supposed to tell the love of your life your soul didnât belong to you? That you were trapped in a deal of your own making?Â
Curse that little fine line in your deal that kept your mouth sealed shut, that prevented you from uttering his name.
âI-I..â You desperately tried to speak, to tell him the truth, but that invisible hand that pulled at your tongue forced your silence. Tears pricked at your eyes, the desperation in them evident as your attempts to explain only died behind those pretty lips of yours.
As your mouth shut in frustration, Luciferâs anger only heightened. His eyes flared into a blood-red glow, a harsh change from that soft yellow radiance you often found yourself lost in.
He pivoted harshly away, his voice contorting into a snarl as he stalked out of the room. His overcoat appeared atop his shoulders, and it swished behind him as he moved.Â
Luciferâs thoughts were too tangled with the images of his claws wrapping around the deal-makers throat to sit there and console you.
The tears that had threatened to spill finally rolled down your cheeks, your lip quivering as your eyes lingered on the doorway he had just exited. His thoughts too mangled with the image of his claws wrapping around the deal-makers throat to sit there and console you.
Placing your face into your hands, you sobbed quietly.Â
Oh, how that regret had begun to consume you as you continued to wallow in your self-pity.Â
Regret, for thinking that giving away your soul was a simple feat. That somehow, youâd still be happy after the fact.Â
Regret, for falling in love when you knew the deal that kept you to that deer demonâs side would never allow you to enjoy such a fleeting emotion. No matter how hard you clawed to Luciferâs soft embrace, that chain would always be there to drag you back.Â
Those soft whispers of affections, of promises you couldnât keep. Knowing, one day, that constant-smiling demon could play his little games and tear you away from your loverâs hold forever.
Oh, what a lovestruck idiot you are.Â
Luciferâs feet carried him back to the lobby, his eyes glowing as he noticed the cat-demon, Husk, cleaning glasses behind the bar. He sharply turned in his direction, surely, this other beingÂ
âYou, bartender.â Lucifer hissed, as he lifted himself up onto the barstool, crossing one leg over the other. Acting as if only wanting to have a friendly chat with the demon. His claws extended slightly, as they tapped impatiently against the countertop.Â
Husker looked up from the glass in his hands, his eyes bored and his mouth a thin line as he worked. It wasnât until he saw Luciferâs deadly expression did he drop the glass immediately, ears slightly pinned to his head, before straightening his back to address the king.
âI-uh, how can I help you, Your Majesty?âÂ
Luciferâs lips upturned into a lopsided grin, those sharp teeth on full display. Thatâs right, some people have to remember exactly who they are dealing with.
âWhere is your master?â
Husk paused, regarding Lucifer for a moment with an eyebrow raised. He was very aware of the tension between the two powerful demons, but he didnât expect the King of Hell would go looking for Alastor.
âIâm not sure, sir. You could bring it up with Charlie when she gets back, Iâm sure she knows more than little olâ me.âÂ
Lucifer grimaced slightly at that. Of all the people in the hotel, his daughter was the last one heâd want to bring into this whole debacle.
âThereâs got to be something you must know, bartender. He owns your soul too, does he not?â
âWhat, you think I keep track of the guy or something?âÂ
âNo, but you should,â Lucifer snarled, leaning over the counter, causing Husk to reel back slightly, âitâs clear no one here keeps eyes on that filth, enough to stop him from hurting people in this very hotel.â
Husk seemed to deflate at that. Those long, feathery eyebrows of his lowering slightly as an unreadable expression crossed his face. He set the glass down, before sharply turning away from Lucifer.
âHeâs usually in his room, by now,â Husk spoke quietly after a moment, âdown the left hall, last door on the right. Ya canât miss it.â
Lucifer didnât give thanks, instead he tapped his cane at his side, and golden waves circled around him. In an instant, the King was gone, a few pieces of gold dust landing softly against the barstool.Â
âAsshole.â Husk muttered, before popping open a bottle of liquor and lifting it to his lips.
Lucifer opened his eyes to see a large door in front of his face, green symbols glittered against its frame, etched into the wood with practiced precision.
Only Lucifer could see them, though. Only powerful wielders of such a force could see these runes. Magical spells, cast upon the room. Protection, defense, muffling, everything an evil guy could dream of.
Although, the demonâs magic was strange. Unfamiler, even. Seems like heâs been dabbling in a new form of sorcery.
Lucifer stood there, for a few moments. He didnât knock at the door, or jiggle the handle. The Radio Demon was not the one in control here, so he simply waited impatiently for an answer.
âI know youâre in there, you rat.â Lucifer hissed, the horns poking from his head continuing to rise. âI know you can hear me. Why donât you do us both a favor and show yourself, or are you too much of a coward now?âÂ
Slowly, the door to Alastorâs room creaked open. The interior obscured by thick shadows, with soft lights flickering from the edges of the room as Lucifer continued to stand there.
âYour Majesty!â A cheerful voice called from the shadows of the room, and Lucifer bared his teeth at the tone. âWhat an honor to have someone like you gracing my presence. Please, come in!â
Lifting his head high again, Lucifer took a confident step into the room. He had every right to be, even in the demonâs own abode, the Kingâs powers were unmatched.Â
Luciferâs lips curled into a sneer at the saccharine greeting. âSave the pleasantries, rat. We both know why Iâm here.â
As Lucifer stepped further into the room, the door behind him remained wide open, the light from the hallway illuminating the Kingâs figure. Alastorâs silhouette still danced within the shadows, the glow of his red eyes illuminating the space as he carefully followed the Kingâs movements.
âAh, but do we really, Your Majesty? Enlighten me.â
Luciferâs eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin. âYou have an uncanny knack to create suffering with everything you touch. Now, you pull the strings of innocent lives. Do you thirst for power that fucking badly, to make a deal for someoneâs soul?â
âThey made a deal on their own whim,â Alastor retorted, waving his hands in a sweeping motion, brushing off the accusation, âHow could I say no to such an offer? Iâm a demon, if you can recall.â
The lights in the room began to flicker with renewed life, and Alastorâs sharp grin only made the fallen angel want to tear it from his face.
âDemons like you deserve to be ground into dust.â Lucifer snarled, closing the distance between the two. He lifted his head, meeting Alastorâs piercing gaze. His claws wrapped around the Radio Demonâs black bow tie, and he harshly tugged him down to his eye level.
Alastor stared at the grip with a deathly silence, his face contorting into sharper features, his pupils taking the dialed form once more.Â
Energy crackled in the room, a mix of both demonâs powers as the tension only continued to escalate. Alastor didnât move from the hold, he knew better than to test that fate.Â
The lines above Luciferâs lips scrunching as he stared at the demon with disgust. âYou steal the souls of those weaker than you to fill that emptiness in your own, itâs pathetic.â
âMaybe.â Alastor shrugged nonchalantly, before a green spark sizzled against his bow-tie, and it limply fell from his clothing in Lucifer grip. He turned away, stalking towards the cutting board on the counter.
âDonât walk away from me, you freak. Lest I do everyone in this hotel a favor and remove you from existence right here.â
A dark chuckle bounced against the walls, filling the room as Alastor kept his back to Lucifer. âAh, but if you kill me, they die too. Souls entwined with each other, you see. Such a dilemma, wouldnât you say?â
Lucifer gritted his teeth, cursing his oversight. âShit,â he muttered under his breath.
Alastorâs voice took on a sly tone. âBut fear not, Your Majesty. Iâm not without mercy. I understand the affection you hold for such a.. charming demon.â
Luciferâs gaze hardened, suspicion clouding his features. âWhat do you want?â
âWhy donât we.. make a dÌŽÌ»ÍÌșÌĂšÌŽÌÍÌÌÌ»ÍaÌ”ÌÌ«ÍÍÌœlÌžÍÍÌœÌÌÌ?â Alastorâs tone crackled with static, as he spun to face the fallen angel. His head tilting curiously to one side, watching Luciferâs expression.
Lucifer laughed, an audible ha-ha as the words left Alastorâs lips. He twisted his cane between his fingers, his claws leaving small etched lines trailing behind his movements.
âA deal with you? Do you actually expect me to give you my soul?â
Alastorâs grin widened, his eyes gleaming with mischief. âOh, not your soul, silly! Itâs nothing too extravagant. Just a little exchange of power. After all, whatâs a deal between demons?â
âAnd, what exactly does this deal entail?â
Alastor paused for a moment, his intense gaze never leaving. âI have.. a few affairs I never got to settle when I died. Iâd like to be able to return to that filthy place, whenever and wherever I want.â
âThatâs it?â Lucifer asked in disbelief, his head leaning back slightly as he processed the demonâs words. âYou want access to the human realm? Youâre standing before the King of Hell! Why not simply ask for my title?â
Damnit, Lucifer, is it really the time to get your pride twisted?
âOh, I couldnât be bothered to bare such responsibilities of a king. Iâd take your strength in a heartbeat though, but we both know you arenât powerful enough to bless me with such a gift.â
The mockery in Alastorâs tone of the fallen angels' lack of heavenly abilities, spurred Lucifer. Whoâs horns were fully out for view now, that small fire licking hungrily between them.
âWell? What is it going to be, Your Majesty?â Alastor hummed, his nails clicking against the countertop. âDo you want their soul or not?â
A demon like Alastor, being granted the ability to leap from the realms? It was much different than giving Amsodueusâ little spawns access via that orange crystal, who didnât hold the kind of magic the demon before him did.Â
What would he do when he was up there? Steal more souls? Go on a slaughter spree? There was no telling with the twisted man before him.
But⊠it was Heavenâs problem. Wasnât it? It was them who cast Lucifer away from the place he helped create, and now it was their job to clean up the messes.
âWhy would you give me something of such value for something like that?â Lucifer asked after a moment.
âBecause your little lover is a deep pain in my side, always disrespecting and challenging my words. If it wasnât for that silver tongue of theirs, Iâd have killed them ages ago.â
Lucifer growled, golden flames dancing on his fingertips at Alastorâs words.Â
âThey also donât have any value. No power, no status, just a beggar on the street when I found them all those years ago. You could say I only made such a deal because I pitied their pathetic existence.â
âIf this guy keeps talking, I might just have to kill him.â
Time stood still in that room for a moment, the ending of the song playing from the radio the only indicator that the realm was still moving around them.
âIâm waiting~â Alastor sung, both demons locking eyes with each other across the room instensly.
As Lucifer weighed the consequences, a firm line set on his lips as he nodded. "Very well, Alastor," he said, extending a hand towards the demon. "We have a deal."
Their hands met in a firm shake, and as their fingers intertwined, a surge of dark energy crackled between them. Wisps of shadow and flame danced around their clasped hands, swirling around the duo.
Alastor was lost in a maniacal fit of laughter, as large eyes and symbols danced around him. That smile on his lips changed, as lines of thread locking his teeth together, as if someone had forcefully stitched that grin in place.
The air itself seemed to tremble with the force of their agreement, and the room pulsed with an otherworldly energy. The very fabric of reality seemed to warp and bend around them as the terms of their pact solidified.
Suddenly, you burst into the room, your eyes widening in fear as you saw the two demonâs hands entwined. You placed a hand to your mouth in shock, as you realized exactly what they were doing.
âOh, no no no NO!â You cried hoarsely against the loud rushing wind, pushing you against the wall. What kind of deal was Lucifer making?!Â
With a final burst of darkness, the pact was sealed, and both demons drew back. Alastorâs eyes gleamed with newfound power. His aura crackled with renewed strength, and the demonâs grin widened with satisfaction.
His eyes landed on you, a twisted smirk on his lips as he vanished in a plume of smoke. The intensity of it causing your eyes to water, and to fall into a fit of coughs.
The echoes of their agreement lingered in the air in a mixture of green and gold sparks of energy. Lucifer stood alone in the room, before he took a step backwards, stumbling slightly as you reached him.Â
Taking his arm, you yank him out of the room, into the hallway. You scan over his figure, your heartbeat quickening as you search for any kind of injuries.
âWhat did you do? You didnât make a deal for your soul, did you?!â You cried in panic, your hands on both sides of Luciferâs face as he blinked away the fog from behind his eyes.
âOf course, I didnât.â Lucifer muttered between your palms, âI simply gave him some power that he can go fuck off with for the rest of eternity.â
âBut.. he c-couldâoh, why would you do that?! That was so stupiââ
Lucifer quickly wrapped his fingers around your forearms, shaking you gently to get you to look at him. The slits of his pupils trained intently on your look of distraught.
âFor you!â He growled, and you slammed your mouth shut. His breath was ragged, his lips downturned into a painful frown as he watched your lip begin to quiver.
âI made a deal to exchange your soul for a little power, because I cannot bare seeing you suffer any longer. Do you get that? I walked into your bedroom, to find you bruised and in tears. Over what, spilled milk?!â
âI can take it, I've been taking it.â You cried, arms shaking as you fidgeted in his hold. Shame clawing at your throat. Why did you have to be so fucking useless when it came to things like this?
âNo! Stop that. Stop lying to me! That âeverything is fine and dandyâ, when itâs not. Iâm the goddamn King of Hell, and I canât even protect you because you refuse to let anyone prove that you matter.â
Lucifer squeezed his eyes shut, head leaning into your shoulder as he took a deep breath. Your scent easing his anger slowly as he sunk into your embrace.
âYou matter so much to me, you and Charlie. If I have to make a deal with a douchebag like him, to save your soul, then so be it. I donât care what he takes from me.âÂ
Tears spilled from your cheeks, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. You both fell to your knees, and it was your turn to lean into his embrace. Your shoulders shook as you sobbed into his chest.
You were finally free from that monster. He couldnât hurt you anymore, couldnât lay a finger on you without consequence. Yet, your tears were also of sadness. You had tried so hard to prevent this, to prevent Lucifer from being selfless and allowing Alastor to win.Â
You felt hands gently rubbing at your back, a soothing motion that quelled your quivering figure slightly. It was so warm, like laying in front of a lively fireplace. You wanted to stay there forever.
You were so tired. The mental exhaustion that had been plaguing your mind all these months finally slamming into you, and you lay there limp against his embrace.
âPlease.. please donât cry. I love you, I love you.â Lucifer whispered softly, his voice cracking as he pulled you deeper into his hold. He kept repeating those words, âI love youâ, as he placed soft kisses against your forehead.
You felt the soft touch of feathers graze against your ears, and cracked open an eye to see Luciferâs wings engulfing the both of you. They nestled into you, rubbing against your cheek softly, lulling you into a sleepy daze.
âIâve got you, I promise.â Lucifer whispered into your ear. âYouâre safe, youâre loved, I'm so sorry.âÂ
You placed a soft kiss to his collarbone, and snuggled deeper into his chest. Thankfully, no one was around to bother the two of you as you sat on the floor in the hall.
Just five minutes. Thatâs all you needed, five minutes basking in his warmth, in his soft words of affection. Five minutes to promise yourself youâd never let him do something like this again.
And maybe, everything would be alright.Â
you guys đ i made sure this fic was cooked, damnit!! A little more fast-paced than usual, but I hope you can forgive me for that. i also could not settle on what kind of deal alastor wanted to make, so i blind drew out of a hat. i just wanted to bring in a little drama, and itâs hard when one of them is can be easily bodied haha
i honestly have to stop telling yall how long I think my fics will be bc i said âoh i want this to be as long as artist!reader pt. 4â, yet itâs roughly 6-7k over it someone kill me
let me know what you think đ«¶
[Lucifer] taglist: @ohnoivefallen @doodlebob2726 @coleisyn @loslox @sukxma @undertale-is-sansational @nehy019 @mixplara @chewbrry @yellowsubiesdance @airwolf92 @laurenlaurie @lxkeee @jellybellyrulez @catnoirsleftnut @mbruben-stein @mint129106 @froggybich @moonlovers34 @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @lil-bexie @lowkeyhottho @wings-of-sapphire @the-tortured-poet @enigmatic-blues @bethleeham @blue122 @cherry-4200 @azullynx @luzzbuzz @for-hearthand-home
#lucifer x reader#lucifer morningstar x reader#lucifer morningstar#hazbin hotel#hellaverse#lucifer#alt title: youâre the rizzler this time
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*à©â©â§âË âYOU⊠CANâT WALK?â *à©â©â§âË
summary: after a night of⊠suspicious activities, you find that your body is rendered useless!! how does your boyfriend react??
feat. diluc ragnvindr, kaeya alberich, childe, kazuha kaedehara, scaramouche, xiao, ayato, al-haitham, kaveh
a/n: blue balled </3
warnings: heavily suggestive however no explicit smut, minors get tf out /lh <33, innuendos, fluff, mentions of âgirlieâ in childeâs, basically after aftercare
â â° DILUC is highkey embarrassed about not being able to resist his urges, so much so that youâre in pain because of him. he apologizes profusely and is so guilty that he hurt you đđ youâll have to reassure him that youâre alright, but that you just need some extra help getting around today or for the next week. heâll be your majestic horse for as long as you need him to. need to go to the bathroom? heâll carry you to and from, waiting for you to be done outside of the door. hungry? heâs already got adelinde cooking something up for you. thirsty? he just bought thirty different flavours of herbal tea. he treats all the love bites heâs given you and iced the bruises on your legs, looking up for your reaction each time. a friend of yours asked why your legs were so shaky and you couldnât walk, and his face exploded into a bright shade of red, making it obvious that your⊠nighttime activities were the cause.
â â° KAEYAâS your knight in shining armour, although sometimes you may want to smack his head. oh, heâll help you alright, but at the cost of your dignity. heâs carrying you bridal-style in his arms, which may sound wholesome, but the things heâs whispering in your ear are clearly not. turning bright red, you nuzzle your head further in his chest to prevent him from looking at you. cute. he chuckles at your reaction, pressing a soft kiss to your head before gently placing you in the bath. the warm water helps your muscles relax more, easing up the tension from your legs. you sigh in relief, sinking further into the bathtub as he scrubs the soap out of your hair. you shiver when he blows over your hickeys, deliberately trying to rile you up. this time, you wonât give him what he wants, though. you flip over on your side, turning away from him with what little self-respect you have left. but it all leaves your body when he leans in closer. âeasy there princess, being a brat is what got you here in the first place.â
â â° CHILDE, quite like his name suggests, is a literal child. you thought kaeya was bad? well, this giant man baby wants you to flaunt off your hickeys and bruises to the whole world, he wants everyone to know youâre his and his alone. his teasing is x10000 times stronger than normal, he has no basic decency đđ will make you ask for his help to inflate his ego, at this point just get up and leave </3 when you try to angrily glare at him, it comes off as more of a sad pout, so he caves and scoops you up in his arms like a kid. âaww, is my favourite baby coochie coo girlie okay? donât worry, daddyâs here-â please smack the living shit out of him, if you donât heâll continue to baby and coo at you for the rest of the day. donât even try to complain to him about the marks, heâll just add more until heâs satisfied đŹ oh, and one last piece of advice? donât let him see you in his shirt unless youâre looking to get wrecked (again), heâll go absolutely feral.
â â° KAZUHA, letâs be real, would be so soft and loving that you wouldnât have any bruises and i stand this with my life đ€ but for the purpose of the plot, letâs pretend he did. out of everyone, heâs the most delicate with you. heâs so gentle and careful carrying you like you could break at any moment, whispering one of his poems quietly and humming underneath his breath. if youâre hungry, he makes his specialty dish, spoon feeds you everything, even tipping the water cup up so you can drink from it. he gives you so much love and reassurance it makes your heart absolutely melt đ„șđ„ș he kisses each mark he made on your body, whispering âbeautifulâ each time :,) a tear slips by your eye, never has anyone treated you with such care before him. he wipes it away and pulls you close, making sure not to hurt you accidentally, and utters endless sweet nothings. in his eyes, you are a perfect creation, and he canât thank the heavens enough that you are his. his muse, his love, forever <3.
â â° SCARAMOUCHE, this bitch, thinks youâre being dramatic when you say in a scratchy voice that you canât walk. he tells you to just get over it, and when you get pissed and try to walk away from him, your legs fail you and you brace yourself for the impact, but it never comes. his arms are hooked above yours, effectively saving you from crashing down and causing further damage. you angrily yank your arm back, telling him to leave, but he only pulls you up closer into his arms. he wraps your legs around his hips as he holds your waist, cursing something under his breath. he places you onto the couch as you turn away from him in a huff. âare you just going to ignore me?â silence. âfine. be like that then.â silence again. ââŠiâm âŠsorry. i didnât mean it.â you turn back around, and heâs squatting on the ground with his head twisted so you canât see his face. he moves away quickly, flustered by your gaze, and leaves the room for a minute. when he comes back, heâs holding some warm tea for your throat. needless to say, he pampers you for the rest of the day.
â â°Â XIAO thinks youâre seriously ill when you almost tumble out of bed and land smack dab on the floor. youâll have to explain to him why your legs arenât exactly working, and when he does⊠flustered beyond relief. when he takes a closer look at you, he notices your body is full of love marks and bruises around your thighs. in the moment, he may have forgotten how fragile humans could be. he thinks heâs broken you, and heâs genuinely concerned for you đ you might have to direct him on how to help you, but once he gets the hang of it, heâll do the best he can. unlike how he wields his spear, heâs delicate and graceful. he might be rough around the edges, but heâs trying, and you donât have the heart to tell him that you donât need him to carry you for the rest of your life, not when he cocks his head and looks at you questioningly when you donât climb on his back. as an apology for temporarily immobilizing you, he brings you a qingxing flower and shares his almond tofu with you. honestly, what more could you ask for đ»?
â â°Â AYATO is actual husband material <33 heâs already prepared for this for some reason đ€š as soon as you wake up, any punishments you may have received have been treated and wrapped up carefully. a fresh pitcher of water is there for you, and by the looks of it, a bath is running. but none of it interests you if ayato isnât there with you. carefully, with the help of thoma, you are able to wobble to the room ayato is in, concentrated on his paperwork. hobbling towards him, he pushes his chair back so you can sit on his lap. pressing a kiss to your cheek, he brushes the hair out of your face, âdarling, you should be resting. i ran a bath for you, is everything okay? are you sore anywhere?â âcan you come join me? please?â you beg, putting on the cutest pout you can manage. âif you can wait ten minutes until iâm done.â internally, you sigh, but you patiently sit on his lap and wait until heâs finished. ah, but donât worry, the reward is definitely worth it. he kneads through all the sore spots, applies all your skincare, and changes your clothes. later, you do matching face masks đ
â â°Â AL-HAITHAM was probably prepared for this, he read hundreds of books about human reproduction đ he notes all the side effects you seem to have: a scratchy throat, unstable legs, exhaustion⊠he saves it for the next time you have⊠physical activities. he remembers an article he read on how to take care of your significant other after intercourse, and follows that. he makes homemade soup to soothe your throat, which he watches over you as you drink. he also forces you to take naps, heâll read âthe control politicians have over our daily livesâ just to make you fall asleep. heâll get your groceries, take out your trash, and do your work so you can focus on relaxing, all with a stoic face. if anyone asks him where you are, heâll just give an obvious lie with a straight face đđ ây/n is out collecting a census right now.â âbut they told me they were sick?â normally his lies are flawless, but when itâs about you⊠his mind doesnât function properly. but if you absolutely need to get somewhere, youâre going to have to ask him. last time, he locked kaveh out of the dorm for 48 hours for helping you get a book from the library because he fell asleep đ
â â° KAVEHâS face is the first thing you see when you wake up. jumpscare warning sir heâs hovering over you, observing your face. immediately after he sees that you are awake comes the barrage of questions. âmy love, are you all right? i wasnât too rough, was i?â heâs such a simp i could never see him being rough he dramatically gasps when he sees your shaky legs, pretending to be shocked, but heâs slightly happy that this means youâll have to cling onto him for the whole day. but oh my, both of you still have work!! whatever shall you do? it seems like the only solution is for him to take you everywhere⊠he proudly parades you around the akademiya, much to the embarrassment of you. but thereâs nothing you can really do, not when you canât run away, so you bury your head in his back to avoid the judging gazes of the other scholars. kaveh shoots a smug grin to an uncaring al haitham, who probably knows and heard everything from last nightđđ
©hawkssimpsblog 2023. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.
#self insert#genshin x y/n#genshin x reader#genshin x you#genshin impact x y/n#genshin impact x you#genshin impact x reader#diluc x reader#diluc x y/n#kaeya x you#kaeya x reader#kaeya x y/n#childe x reader#childe x you#childe x y/n#kazuha x reader#kazuha x you#kazuha x y/n#scaramouche x y/n#scaramouche x you#scaramouche x reader#xiao x y/n#xiao x you#xiao x reader#ayato x y/n#ayato x reader#al haitham x you#al haitham x y/n#kaveh x y/n#kaveh x reader
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whenever simon needs a lay, he doesn't go for girls like you: all snarky attitude and self-assuredness in that hole-in-the-wall bar with the peeling wallpaper, dim lighting, and sagging ceiling tiles. he wants those insecure things; the soft, quiet ones who've been recently dumped and are drinking away their woes. the ones who'll take him to theirs in a drunken haze and wake up startled, kicking him out of the front door without their number and an embarrassed forget this ever happened.
can do, sweetheart. (see ya never.)
but you've caught his interest. maybe it was the way your face was bareâ pockmarks on your cheeks and eyebrows untamedâyet you exuded confidence not even that loud bimbo with the fake lashes and vibrant ruby lipstick could ever recreate. maybe it was the way you held your own against that drunken man who attempted to grab a handful of arse over your faded, torn jeans, catching his pathetic bollocks and giving them a gnarly twist.
who knows. who cares.
what matters is that you've caught him by complete surprise.
he figured you were the type to want a firm hand. a couple of harsh slaps to your cheeks (both top and bottom), a fistful of your hair in his grip to pull, and to fuck you into the mattress until your body was imprinted on it.
wrong.
the moment he pulled your hair taut, you'd immediately tangled your clever fingers into his chest hair. "i'm no horse, brit. my hair isn't reins for you to lead me around with."
then he tried to bend you over his knee. proper brat like you needs to be put in'er place.
also wrong. "not that either. not yet anyway."
and then he's wrong a third time because you're no passive participant.
he sloppily eats your cunt like it's his first meal since coming back from urzikstanâ warm tongue, thick fingers, and the occasional pinch of his crooked teeth on your swollen bundle of nerves. when he tries to pull away, your entrance more than slick enough to take him without much discomfort, you fervently dig your heels into the scarred tissue of his strong back., stopping him in his tracks.
"you stop 'til i finish and not a moment sooner." his whiskey breath is warm between your legs when he huffs out, "affirm." you're fluttering around his hand in minutes when you start to direct him on how you like it, which he supposes is fortunate for you since he's real good at taking orders and even better at obeying them.
your climax is sweet in his mouth with a subtle hint of brine. the exact opposite of you, he finds. simon doesn't even get the chance to tell you to say anything because you're flipping onto your knees and shoving his rigid length into your mouth. he can't help the strangled sound that escapes him when the tip of him touches the back of your throat, constricting when you gag.
bloody hell.
you look up at him; wide, glassy eyes and sunken cheeks and it's pathetic how he can already feel himself on the precipice of ecstasy and he hasn't even gotten to the good part.
when he watches you place a condom in your mouth and roll it on his cock without hands, simon had to squeeze his eyes shut and think of england to stop the fire that threatened to light him ablaze.
alrigh', enough. on your back.
"no. get on yours."
your small hands push against his barrel chest, gesturing he lie backâ today preferably.
impatient bint.
you ignore that quip, opting to wrap your fingers around his thick base and sink onto him in one smooth motion.
slow, don't want ya hurtin' ya'self.
he gnaws on his tongue painfullyâ almost cutting it open with his canineâ to keep from finishing because, bloody fuckin' hell, do you feel like the heaven he'll never see.
simon's hands curl and tighten around the swell of your hipsâ his blunt, square nails digging into your sensitive skin. "easy," you hiss, "i bruise like a peach."
taste like it, too.
you look so sweet, so pliant while being split open on his cock, hot cunt sodden with your earlier releaseâ it sends mind-numbing arousal tingling up his spine, feeling it at the base of his skull. simon grunts when you begin to move, a languid up and down, gentle but firm. spots dance in his vision when you take all of him, his bollocks flush against your arse.
pretty thing with fire in your eyes taking him so well even though others have needed breaks to work up to it. muscle memory takes over then, his callused fingers automatically searching for your swollen clit, but you slap them away. "too sensitive, i'd only be uncomfortable."
yes ma'am.
you chuckle at that, pussy fluttering as you do and simon hisses through his clenched teeth.
keep tha' up 'nd i'll be done before the fun even starts.
this time you clamp down on purpose, your cunt squeezing his cock like a silken fist. "wouldn't that just be a shame. old man like yourself only got one in you?" the playful taunt sinks its teeth into the ego he's never cared aboutâ leaving behind a mark that stings and lingersâ and the lieutenant rears his head, if only for a moment.
watch it.
your eyes widen fractionally but your lips curl at the corners in amusement. "sorry, sir." minx.
his thoughts dissolve like sugar in hot tea once your hips began to rise and fall again, this time a much quicker pace. he surrenders to your unsatiable passion-- a hungry beast, feeding on want, on need-- with only his obsidian-black mask as witness.
for the first time in months (since price bent him over his desk post-op that one time) he's the one getting fucked.
and when you plant your feet by his sides, when your hips cant at the slightest of angles, his flared head presses against something firm and his world ceases to exist, the intensity of now reaching its peak.
when he comes to, your sweat-slick body trembles with effort, your pretty cunt still stuffed to the brim with his softening length. but he's not done with you yet, not by a long shot. now it's his turn.
in a quick movement, you find yourself on your back, looking up at simon, and the mewl that falls from your lips bounces off of the spartan white walls when he hooks your legs over his broad shoulders, and claims you again.
he plans on leaving a delicious ache between your legs that won't let you forget this night-- at least not for the next few days. (not like you could, i mean look at him. plus, he's going to magically forget his gloves here, maybe his pack of cigarettes. he's also definitely jotting down his phone number somewhere.)
forgive me i'm tired now so i lost some air at the end hehehe
#call of duty#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x f reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley smut#cod smut#simon riley smut
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Uncle Tommy (Part One)
Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Niece Reader
Warning: Smut, Incest, Taboo Relations, DDLG, Dub-Con
And yes, this was a request! Please comment and engage!
It was during the month of August that you moved back to Birmingham after having spent almost twelve years travelling with your mother Esma after your father died and whilst your mother disliked the idea, you were eighteen now and to put it bluntly, you were no longer a child and had to make your own decisions.
Your mother had met and married another man a few years ago, and you had no desire to be a burden on their newfound happiness so, when your Aunt Polly suggested for you to move in with either her or your Uncle Tommy, you were grateful for the opportunity.
Your Uncle Tommy had horses and you had always loved the idea of working with them, so it was an easy decision to move in with him. Your Uncle Tommy had a new wife. She was his third wife and whilst you thought that living with a man like him and his newfound love would be slightly awkward, you settled in easily.Â
After a few days, you began to feel more comfortable in your new surroundings, enjoying your work with the horses and even though you had not seen your Uncle Tommy for over 12 years beforehand, he seemed genuinely happy to see you.
You came across as bright, intelligent and respectful and found yourself in your uncle's office quite often, helping him with paperwork and other business-related tasks. However, there was something peculiar about your Uncle Tommy. Something that made you feel slightly uncomfortable but also somewhat exited when he was around, although you couldn't quite put your finger on what it was.
He was a mid-forty-year-old attractive man with a commanding presence, handsome, with piercing blue eyes and jet-black hair. You never remembered him like this from your childhood. Now he seemed to have acquired a distinguished elegance - a byproduct, perhaps, of his wealth and power.
It wasnât just his looks, but also the way he carried himself. Confident, commanding, yet respectful. He treated you like an adult and didnât hesitate to give you the responsibility you craved.
But then, occasionally, you felt as though he made some advances towards you which you were not sure whether or not you should reciprocate. He was your uncle after all. He was a married man, and you were in a relationship with a good young man who happened to be working in your uncle's factory.Â
On occasion, your uncle would put a stray hand on your waist, his fingers lightly tracing your curves as he leaned in close to whisper something mundane, his warm breath tickling your ear in a way that made you shiver.
You would quicken your pace, eager to escape the alluring pull of his nearness and return to the comfort of your own room. However, sometimes, you got lost in the moment, in his mesmerizing blue eyes that seemed to see straight through you.
One evening, after a particularly long day of work with the horses, you found him in the study.
He was sitting behind his desk, a glass of whiskey in one hand and a pen in the other. His eyes were focused on some documents in front of him, his brow furrowed in deep concentration.
"Uncle Tommy," you said softly, not wanting to disturb him.
He looked up, his gaze softening as he took in your appearance. You were wearing a simple dress that hugged your curves and showed off your legs. Your hair was loose around your shoulders, and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks under his gaze.
"Come in, Love," he said, gesturing to the empty chair in front of his desk. "What can I do for you?"
You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say.
"I just wanted to talk to you about something," you said finally. "It's about James, the young man I am seeing," you told him, causing him to furrow his eyebrows.
"What about him?" your uncle asked , setting his glass aside and giving you his full attention. There was a hint of something in his tone that you couldn't quite place, but it made you feel slightly uneasy.
"Well," you began, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. "I just wanted to let you know that we're getting serious. I think we might even get engaged soon which means that, maybe, I would be moving in with him."
Your uncle's expression didn't change, but you saw a flicker of something in his eyes that made you feel uncomfortable.
"Love, you are fucking 18 years old, " he said, his voice low and controlled. "You should not be making decisions like that yet," he said honestly as he leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled under his chin as he looked at you thoughtfully.
"I respect your feelings for this young man," he said finally. "But I urge you to be careful, eh? Don't be a fool. You are a fucking Shelby and you do not commit yourself to just anybody," your uncle said and you sat there in silence for a moment, digesting his words. You knew he was right, of course. You were young and had a whole life ahead of you. You should not make any rash decisions, especially when it came to matters of the heart.
"I understand Uncle Tommy, but I really love him,"Â you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
Your uncle chuckled in response before leaning over the desk and caressing your cheek. His touch was gentle, but the heat of it sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and danger at the same time.
"You are a beautiful young woman Y/N, " your uncle said, his voice dripping with suggestion. "And you deserve much better than a factory worker like him who seems to have no fucking aspirations to become anything more, eh," he added, his fingers tracing your jawline.
His fingers lingered longer than necessary, and you felt a strange heat spreading through your body. You knew you should pull away, but you couldn't bring yourself to move. Instead, you felt yourself leaning into his touch, your heart racing as your mind filled with forbidden thoughts just before his wife walked into the study.
"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt," she said as she entered the room, her eyes flickering between you and your uncle.
Your uncle quickly withdrew his hand, his face becoming impassive as he greeted his wife with a warm smile.
"No, it's alright, love. Y/N and I were just having a discussion about her future," he said, his voice betraying no emotion.
You quickly stood up, eager to escape the tension in the room, but you took what your uncle had said to heart. You knew that he was right and, over the next few weeks, the relationship between you and James became strained.
A few weeks later...
It was around 10 o'clock when you heard a knock on the door of your bedroom. You were sitting on your bed, reading a book and trying to clear your mind.Â
"Come in," you called out, setting your book aside and straightening your posture as the door opened and your uncle stepped inside.
He looked striking as ever, his hair perfectly styled and his suit tailored to perfection. His eyes scanned over you in a way that made you feel both excited and slightly uneasy.
"Uncle Tommy, what are you doing here?" you asked as he entered your bedroom, closing the door behind him, before sitting down by your side.
"I just came to check on you, Love," he said , eyes gleaming as he looked at your young and naive figure. "To see if you were doing alright," he continued, running his fingers ran through your hair. "Frances told me that you have been having some problems with this boy you were seeing," he then admitted , with a hint of concern in his voice.
You couldn't help but feel grateful for the attention, and somehow, comforted. You thus sat up next to him, wearing nothing but your satin nightgown, confiding about what happened between you and James.
"We had a little argument because he wants things that I am not ready for, you know. So, I have distanced myself a little from him for now and it's really making me sad," you answered honestly, and your uncle nodded before resting his hand on your bare thigh.Â
Your uncle's touch sent a jolt of pleasure throughout your body, his skin was warm and rough, you leaned in slightly towards him, letting out a soft sigh.
"Well, I told you before Love, you deserve better than a boy like James fucking McFallon, eh," your uncle said with a gentle voice, running his fingers up your thigh, causing you to shiver.
"Now, tell me though Sweetheart, he didn't make you do anything you didn't want to do, did he? Because if he has, then I will need to deal with him,"Â Thomas said, his voice a low growl.
You couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and safety in your uncle's presence. You knew that he would always be there for you and protect you from anything that could harm you.
"No, he didn't. I just didn't want to take the next step with him yet," you said softly, looking up at your uncle.
His fingers were still tracing their way up your thigh, sending tingles throughout your body.
"And he hasn't touched you in any placed you didn't want to be touched, has he?"Â Thomas asked, looking into your eyes with that piercing blue gaze.
"What do you mean by that?" you asked, in your rather naive mind, causing your uncle to chuckle.
"I mean, he hasn't touched you down here without your consent , has he?" Thomas clarified, his hand vaguely brushing over your clothed sex.
You felt a sudden heat rising to your cheeks as your uncle's words finally sunk in.
"No, he hasn't. I wouldn't allow it," you said, but your voice wavered slightly, giving away your uncertainty as your uncle's eyes gleamed as he nodded his head, pleased with your answer.
"Good, because if he had touched you right there without your consent, then would have had no choice but to fucking cut him, eh?"Â Thomas said, as he gently caressed your cheek with one hand while rubbing his fingers over your panties with the other, before pulling the fabric to the side.Â
You froze almost immediately , tensing up as you tried to comprehend what your uncle was doing.
"Uncle Tommy, you shouldn't touch me down there, I think," you stammered while, at the same time, inadvertently spreading your legs.
"You are right Love, I probably shouldn't. But doesn't it feel nice when I touch you there?" Thomas whispered as you rubbed his thumb over your clit, creating a strange wetness between your folds.
"It feels really weird, Uncle Tommy," you moaned as your uncle started to move his thumb in a circular motion, building up a strange and unfamiliar ache in your lower belly.
"Do you want me to stop?" Thomas asked, his voice husky and full of desire as he slowed down his movements, waiting for your answer.
"No, don't stop," you panted , your body coming alive under his touch.
Thomas smiled and resumed his previous pace while feeling himself grow hard beneath the confides of his pants.
"Do you think I could have a closer look at your treasure, Sweetheart? I would love to see that beautiful little hole of yours now, because it is getting so nice and wet for me,"Â your uncle whispered in your ear while slipping his fingers under the waistband of your panties.
"Uncle Tommy, I don't know if that's a good idea," you said, gasping slightly as you felt your uncle's fingers touch your intimate areas.
"I promise, Love, I will make you feel really nice down there," Thomas reassured you, sliding his index finger over your wet folds.Â
"Okay , but just this once," you agreed, reluctantly but with a hint of curiosity in your voice.
"Good girl. Why don't you lie down for me , Love?" Thomas suggested, removing his index finger from your wetness and giving you a soft pat on your bottom, encouraging you to lie back down on the bed.
You didn't resist and followed your uncle's instructions, biting your lip as he slipped off your panties, leaving you bare before him.
Thomas couldn't help but admire the sight of your body laid out before him. Your legs were slightly parted, giving him a glimpse of your beautiful, wet sex. Without warning, he then spread your labia open with his fingers, exposing your clit and inner folds.
"Such a beautiful sight, eh" Thomas whispered while gently tracing your folds with his index finger, causing you to shiver at the touch.
"You are simply stunning, Love," Thomas continued, awe in his voice as he leaned down to get a closer look.
"Have you ever put your fingers inside your little tressure box here?"Â Thomas asked, his voice low and deep as he gently circled your clit with his thumb.
"No, I don't think I have," you replied, feeling a mixture of excitement and nerves as your uncle asked you such a personal question.
"Would you like me to be the first one to do it?" Thomas asked, his eyes gleaming with desire.
"I-I don't know," you stammered, feeling yourself flush at the thought. "Is it going to hurt?" you asked, biting your lip as your uncle's fingers continued to explore your wet sex.
"Only for a moment, Sweetheart. But I promise, it will feel so good after that," Thomas reassured you, before slowly and gently running his index finger over your wet sex again.Â
"Okay , let's try it," you agreed, feeling yourself getting more and more aroused by your uncle's actions and words.
Thomas couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement as, very carefully, he pushed his index finger inside your tight sex, feeling your inner walls clench around it.
You couldn't help but gasp at the sensation, as your uncle's finger penetrated you for the first time. It felt strange and unfamiliar, but also incredibly pleasurable.
"How does it feel, Love?" Thomas asked, a hint of concern in his voice.
"It feels...weird, but also kind of nice," you replied, finding it hard to put your feelings into words.
"Good, that's great Love," Thomas praised you, as a proud smile appeared on his face. "Now, I want you to relax and breathe deeply while I move my finger inside of you, okay?"
You nodded eagerly, taking deep breaths as your uncle slowly moved his finger in and out of your sex. It was an odd sensation, but also incredibly arousing.
You couldn't believe what was happening in this moment, but at the same time, you couldn't deny that it felt incredible. Thomas's fingers were now exploring every inch of your wet sex, causing you to moan and writhe in pleasure beneath him.
"You're so fucking tight, Love," Thomas groaned, as his finger moved deeper inside of you. "But I think I can get a second finger inside without breaking your barrier," he said tentatively , looking deep into your eyes for consent.
You couldn't believe what you were hearing, but you also couldn't deny the arousal that was building up inside of you. You nodded your head in agreement, and Thomas slowly slid in a second finger, causing you to gasp at the feeling of being stretched.
"That's it, Sweetheart. Just relax and breathe," Thomas whispered softly in your ear, as he continued to move his fingers in and out of your wet sex.
The feeling was still strange and unfamiliar, but the pleasure that accompanied it quickly overshadowed any discomfort you might have felt earlier. Your breathing became heavier and more ragged as your uncle's fingers continued their slow, teasing movements.
Thomas could feel your body tensing up beneath his touch, so he leaned down to whisper in your ear once more, "You're doing great, Love. Just relax and let me make you feel good."
He moved his fingers slowly at first, allowing you to get used to the sensation of being penetrated in this way. He could feel your tight walls gripping his fingers, and he knew he had to be gentle.
"Oh God," you moaned, your head falling back as you felt your arousal build. "Something strange is happening," you admitted, as you could feel a pressure building up inside of you, along with a warmth spreading throughout your body.
"Explain it to me, Sweetheart. What do you feel?" Thomas asked again, his fingers still working their magic inside you.
"It feels good, but I feel like I am about to wet myself," you admitted, feeling a little embarrassed.
"That's good. This means you are close," your uncle said as he started to circle his thumb faster on your clit, pushing his fingers deeper inside of you at the same time.
"Let go, Sweetheart," Thomas coaxed you. "Don't hold back, just let it happen."
You listened to your uncle, allowing yourself to fully immerse in the sensations rippling through your body. His words were like a switch, releasing all remaining tension and inhibitions, sending you crashing over the edge in a dizzying wave of pure pleasure.
"That's it, Love. Let it all out," Thomas encouraged you with a gentle smile, as he watched you ride this new and exciting experience.
"Oh my god. Oh fuck," you moaned as your body trembled and shuddered, the pleasure radiating outwards from your core , pooling in your belly and spreading through your limbs.
Your orgasm hit you hard and strong as you released your wetness all over your uncle's hands, leaving you panting and sweating. You squirted for several seconds, leaving the sheets soaked and you blushing with embarrassment.
"I-I didn't know that could happen," you stammered, your cheeks flushed red as you tried to regain your composure as Thomas carefully pulled his fingers out of you, resting his hand on your thigh, as he studied your expression. Your face was flushed bright red, and you looked utterly spent.
"How are you feeling, Love?" he asked softly, his voice thick with concern.
You blinked dazedly up at him and nodded slowly. "I...I'm okay, I think," you finally answered, your voice still trembling slightly as you tried to make sense of what had just happened.
Thomas smiled at you and leaned down to press a soft kiss on your forehead. "Good," he said simply before standing up, leaving your side for a moment.
You watched him through hooded eyes as he walked towards the en-suite bathroom, before returning with a warm washcloth to gently clean you up. His touch was tender, caring and you ought to ask whether you had indeed wet yourself , but you couldn't summon the words. He then threw the washcloth into a nearby hamper before reclaiming his prominent position on your bed.
"Don't be embarrassed, Love. That's completely natural," Thomas murmured softly as he traced the curve of your cheek with the pad of his thumb, smiling down at your amazed expression.
"I've just never... felt anything like that before," you admitted shyly, feeling just slightly overwhelmed by how strong your reaction had been.
"It wasn't bad, though. In fact, I think I might like it," you added, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you looked up at your uncle. "Do you think I could make you feel that good too?" you whispered, your voice barely audible as you looked up at your uncle with wide eyes.
"I am sure you can, but not tonight, Love. Tonight was all about you," Thomas replied, his voice gentle and soothing. "There is no need to rush things, we have all the time in the world," he added affectionately, before pressing a soft kiss on your forehead once more.
"Now, why don't you have a rest and we can revisit this tomorrow if you like," Thomas suggested, as he tucked the blankets around you, tenderly tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
You watched him as he turned off the lights and left your bedroom, before letting your heavy eyelids fall closed and slipping into a peaceful sleep.
T
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